 | The Daughter |  |
SCENE I.
—The Shore on the Coast of Cornwall.Enter Philip, Ambrose, and others.
Phil.
Our craft is scandalized! We strip the dead!
But what of that? The dead but want a grave!
We give it them. We take what they can spare.
Amb.
You're right; we do no more!
Phil.
As to the rights
Of the living, whom they leave behind, let men
Look to their own! If not, why let it go!
Is it for us to stand the drenching rain!
Wade to our necks into the sea! perhaps
Take boat and pull among the breakers, at
The peril, every moment, of our lives,
For their behoof, while they lie snug in bed,
Loll o'er their fires, or sit around their feasts?
Methinks there's reason in the wrecker's trade!
Amb.
There is. He risks, and toils, for what he gets.
Phil.
But then he does no mischief to the dead,
More than the waves have done!—and if there be
Among us, one that does, he's not of us.
Those marks of violence, which hands alone,
Not rocks, and waves, that have not hands, can leave,
Are scandal to our name!
Amb.
'Tis clear, foul play
Hast oft of late been done, and chiefly there
Enter Norris.
Where Norris takes his stand! What right has he
To make that reef his own?
Nor.
Who talks of me?
What of Black Norris?—Humph!—You envy him!
“What right has he to make that reef his own?”
The right you all would stand on, if you could—
The right of might!
Phil.
Who thought of seeing him?
Who dream'd that he was near?
Nor.
I am a dark
And surly man!—Am I the worse for that?
May not the heart that's here, be soft as yours?
400
And no one here would pass for such a man—
I'd never trust! He'll prove a hypocrite!
The sky doth change its 'haviour—'tis no rogue;
And why not man that lives beneath the sky,
If he be honest? Marks of violence
On bodies wash'd ashore! You want to know
How they came there? I'll tell you—Why, by hands!
Is not that frank?—I'll tell you something more—
'Twas not by mine. It follows not, because
The hair is rough, the dog's a savage one!
Amb.
'Tis true.
Nor.
Come, come, hang no man for his looks!
The thing 's disgrace! Let's put a stop to it;
And each man do his best, to find him out,
That brings the shame upon us—be it me,
Or you, or him, or whomsoe'er it may;
And hunt him not by looks! Such hounds—you know
What hounds are, I suppose—are oft at fault!
Sleek looks may be companions to rough hearts!
I have found it many a time! As for the reef
You say I make my own—you're welcome to it!
But take it if you dare.
[Aside—goes out.
Amb.
We've done him wrong.
Phil.
I know not.
Amb.
Think the best! Come; in the end
It may be as he says. Whate'er we've thought,
No guilt has been brought home to him—although
His father is no better than he should be,
And sees far lands, by favour of the law.
Let's keep awake! Each think the watch his own!
Whispers grow loud, and we must silence them,
Else we'll be look'd to, and our trade at end!
[They go out on different sides.
| The Daughter | |