 | The Tragedy of Jane Shore |  |
35
ACT IV.
Scene I.
Continues.Enter Duke of Gloster, Ratcliffe and Catesby.
Glost.
This was the Sum of all; that he wou'd brook
No Alteration in the present State:
Marry! at last, the testy Gentleman
Was almost mov'd to bid us bold Defiance;
But there I drop'd the Argument, and changing
The first Design and Purpose of my Speech,
I prais'd his good Affection to young Edward,
And left him to believe my Thoughts like his.
Proceed we then in this fore-mention'd Matter,
As nothing bound or trusting to his Friendship.
Rat.
Ill does it thus befall. I cou'd have wish'd
This Lord had stood with us. His Friends are wealthy,
Thereto, his own Possessions large and mighty;
The Vassals and Dependants on his Power
Firm in Adhearance, ready, bold and many;
His Name had been of 'Vantage to your Highness,
And stood our present Purpose much in stead.
Glost.
This wayward and perverse declining from us
Has warranted at full the friendly Notice,
Which we this Morn receiv'd. I hold it certain,
This puling whining Harlot rules his Reason,
And prompts his Zeal for Edward's Bastard Brood.
Cat.
If she have such Dominion o'er his Heart,
And turn it at her Will; you rule her Fate,
And should, by Inference and apt Deduction,
Be Arbiter of his. Is not her Bread,
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The Bounty of your Hand? Why does she live,
If not to yield Obedience to your Pleasure,
To speak, to act, to think as you command?
Rat.
Let her instruct her Tongue to bear your Message;
Teach every Grace to smile in your Behalf,
And her deluding Eyes to gloat for you;
His ductile Reason will be wound about,
Be led and turn'd again, say and unsay,
Receive the Yoak, and yeild exact Obedience.
Glost.
Your Counsel likes me well, it shall be follow'd.
She waits without attending on her Suit,
Go, call her in, and leave us here alone.
[Exeunt. Rat. and Catesby.
How poor a Thing is he, how worthy Scorn,
Who leaves the Guidance of Imperial Manhood
To such a paltry piece of Stuff as this is;
A Moppet made of Prettiness and Pride;
That oftner does her giddy Fancies change,
Than glittering Dew-drops in the Sun do Colours.—
Now shame upon it! Was our Reason given
For such a Use! to be thus puff'd about
Like a dry Leaf, an idle Straw, a Feather,
The Sport of every whifling Blast that blows?
Beshrew my Heart, but it is wond'rous strange;
Sure there is something more than Witchcraft in them,
That masters ev'n the wisest of us all.
Enter Jane Shore.
Oh! You are come most fitly. We have ponder'd
On this your Grievance: And tho' some there are,
Nay, and those Great Ones too, who wou'd enforce
The Rigour of our Power to afflict you,
And bear a heavy Hand, yet fear not you,
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Shall stand between, and sheild you from Mishap.
J. Sh.
The Blessings of a Heart with Anguish broken,
And rescu'd from Despair, attend your Highness.
Alas! my gracious Lord! What have I done
To kindle such relentless Wrath against me?
If in the Days of all my past Offences,
When most my Heart was lifted with Delight,
If, I with-held my Morsel from the Hungry,
Forgot the Widow's Want, and Orphan's Cry;
If I have known a Good I have not shar'd,
Nor call'd the Poor to take his Portion with me,
Let my worst Enemies stand forth, and now
Deny the Succour, which I gave not then.
Glost.
Marry! there are, tho' I believe them not,
Who say you meddle in Affairs of State:
That you presume to prattle, like a busy Body,
Give your Advice, and teach the Lords o'th' Council
What fits the Order of the Common-weal.
J. Sh.
Oh that the busy World, at least in this,
Would take Example from a Wretch like me!
None then would waste their Hours in foreign Thoughts,
Forget themselves, and what concerns their Peace,
To tread the Mazes of fantastick Falshood,
To haunt her idle Sounds and flying Tales,
Thro' all the giddy noisy Courts of Rumour;
Malicious Slander never wou'd have Leisure,
To search with prying Eyes for Faults abroad,
If all, like me, consider'd their own Hearts,
And wept the Sorrows which they found at home.
Glost.
Go to! I know your Power, and tho' I trust not
To every Breath of Fame, I'm not to learn
That Hastings is profess'd your loving Vassal.
But fair befall your Beauty: Use it wisely,
And it may stand your Fortunes much in stead;
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And place you high in Safety and in Honour:
Nay, I could point a Way, the which pursuing,
You shall not only bring your self Advantage,
But give the Realm much worthy Cause to thank you.
J. S.
Oh! where or how?—Can my unworthy Hand
Become an Instrument of Good to any?
Instruct your lowly Slave, and let me fly
To yield Obedience to your dread Command.
Glost.
Why that's well said—Thus then—Observe me well.
The State, for many high and potent Reasons,
Deeming my Brother Edward's Sons unfit
For the Imperial Weight of England's Crown—
J. Sh.
Alas! for Pity.
[Aside.
Glost.
Therefore have resolv'd
To set aside their unavailing Infancy,
And vest the sovereign Rule in abler Hands.
This, tho' of great Importance to the Publick,
Hastings, for very Peevishness and Spleen,
Does stubbornly oppose.
J. Sh.
Does he! Does Hastings!
Glost.
Ay, Hastings.
J. Sh.
Reward him for the noble Deed, just Heavens:
For this one Action, guard him and distinguish him
With signal Mercies, and with great Deliverance.
Save him from Wrong, Adversity and Shame.
Let never-fading Honours flourish round him,
And consecrate his Name even to Time's End:
Let him know nothing else but Good on Earth,
And everlasting Blessedness hereafter.
Glost.
How now!
J. Sh.
The poor forsaken, Royal little Ones!
Shall they be left a Prey to Savage Power?
Can they lift up their harmless Hands in vain,
Or cry to Heaven for Help, and not be heard?
Impossible! O gallant generous Hastings,
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Stand forth, thou Proxy of all-ruling Providence,
And save the friendless Infants from Oppression.
Saints shall assist thee with prevailing Prayers,
And warring Angels combat on thy Side.
Glost.
You're passing rich in this same heavenly Speech,
And spend it at your Pleasure. Nay, but mark me!
My Favour is not bought with Words like these.
Go too—you'll teach your Tongue another Tale.
J. Sh.
No, tho' the Royal Edward has undone me,
He was my King, my gracious Master still;
He lov'd me too, tho' 'twas a guilty Flame,
And fatal to my Peace, yet still he lov'd me;
With Fondness, and with Tenderness he doated,
Dwelt in my Eyes, and liv'd but in my Smiles.
And can I—Oh my Heart abhors the Thought,
Stand by, and see his Children robb'd of Right.
Glost.
Dare not, ev'n for thy Soul, to thwart me further;
None of your Arts, your Feigning, and your Foolery,
Your dainty, squeamish Coying it to me.
Go—To your Lord, your Paramour, be gone;
Lisp in his Ear, hang wanton on his Neck,
And play your Monkey Gambols over to him;
You know my Purpose, look that you pursue it,
And make him yield Obedience to my Will.
Do it,—or woe upon thy Harlot's Head.
J. Sh.
Oh that my Tongue had ev'ry Grace of Speech,
Great and Commanding as the Breath of Kings,
Sweet as the Poet's Numbers, and prevailing
As soft Perswasion to a Love-sick Maid;
That I had Art and Eloquence Divine!
To pay my Duty to my Master's Ashes,
And plead till Death the Cause of injur'd Innocence.
Glost.
Ha! Do'st thou brave me, Minion! Do'st thou know
How vile, how very a Wretch, my Pow'r can make thee;
That I can let loose Fear, Distress and Famine,
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That I can place thee in such abject State,
As Help shall never find thee; where repining,
Thou shalt sit down, and gnaw the Earth for Anguish,
Groan to the pitiless Winds without Return,
Howl like the Midnight Wolf amidst the Desart,
And curse thy Life in Bitterness of Misery.
J. Sh.
Let me be branded for the publick Scorn,
Turn'd forth, and driven to wander like a Vagabond,
Be friendless and forsaken, seek my Bread
Upon the barren, wild, and desolate Waste,
Feed on my Sighs, and drink my falling Tears;
E'er I consent to teach my Lips Injustice,
Or wrong the Orphan, who has none to save him.
Glost.
'Tis well—we'll try the Temper of your Heart.
What hoa! Who waits without?
Enter Ratcliff, Catesby, and Attendants.
Rat.
Your Highness Pleasure.—
Glost.
Go some of you, and turn this Strumpet forth;
Spurn her into the Sreet, there let her perish,
And rot upon a Dunghill. Thro' the City
See it proclaim'd, That none, on Pain of Death,
Presume to give her Comfort, Food, or Harbour;
Who ministers the smallest Comfort, dies.
Her House, her costly Furniture and Wealth,
The Purchase of her loose luxurious Life,
We seize on, for the Profit of the State.
Away! Be gone!
J. Sh.
O thou most righteous Judge—
Humbly behold, I bow my self to Thee,
And own thy Justice in this hard Decree:
No longer then my ripe Offences spare,
But what I merit, let me learn to bear.
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For my past Crimes my forfeit Life receive;
No Pity for my Sufferings here I crave,
And only hope Forgiveness in the Grave.
[Exit J. Shore guarded by Catesby and others
Glost.
So much for this. Your Project's at an End:
[To Ratcliff.
This idle Toy, this Hilding scorns my Power,
And sets us all at Nought. See that a Guard
Be ready at my Call—
Rat.
The Council waits
Upon Your Highness Leisure.—
Glost.
Bid 'em enter.
Enter the Duke of Buckingham, Earl of Derby, Bishop of Ely, Lord Hastings and others, as to the Council. The Duke of Gloster takes his Place at the upper End, then the rest sit.
Derb.
In happy Time are we assembled here,
To point the Day, and fix the solemn Pomp,
For placing England's Crown with all due Rites,
Upon our Sovereign Edward's Youthful Brow.
L. Hast.
Some busy meddling Knaves, 'tis said there are,
As such will still be prating, who presume
To carp and cavil at his Royal Right;
Therefore I hold it fitting, with the soonest
T'appoint the Order of the Coronation;
So to approve our Duty to the King,
And stay the babling of such vain Gainsayers.
Derb.
We all attend to know your Highness Pleasure.
[to Gl.
Glost.
My Lords! A Set of worthy Men you are,
Prudent and just, and careful for the State:
Therefore to your most grave Determination,
I yield my self in all Things; and demand,
What Punishment your Wisdom shall think meet
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Who shall with Potions, Charms, and witching Drugs,
Practise against our Person and our Life.
L. Hast.
So much I hold the King your Highness's Debtor,
So precious are you to the Commonweal,
That I presume, not only for my self,
But in Behalf of these my Noble Brothers,
To say, whoe'er they be, they merit Death.
Glost.
Then judge your selves, convince your Eyes of Truth;
Behold my Arm thus blasted, dry and wither'd,
[pulling up his Sleeve.
Shrunk like a foul Abortion, and decay'd,
Like some untimely Product of the Seasons,
Rob'd of its Properties of Strength and Office.
This is the Sorcery of Edward's Wife,
Who in Conjunction with that Harlot Shore,
And other like confederate Midnight Haggs,
By Force of potent Spells, of bloody Characters,
And Conjurations horrible to hear,
Call Fiends and Spectres from the Yawning Deep,
And set the Ministers of Hell at Work,
To torture and despoil me of my Life.
L. Hast.
If they have done this Deed—
Glost.
If they have done it!
Talk'st thou to me of If's! audacious Traytor!
Thou art that Strumpet Witch's chief Abettor,
The Patron and Complotter of her Mischiefs,
And join'd in this Contrivance for my Death,
Nay start not, Lords,—What hoa a Guard there, Sirs!
[Enter Guard.
Lord Hastings I arrest thee, of High Treason.
Seize him, and bear him instantly away,
He sha' not live an Hour. By Holy Paul!
I will not dine before his Head be brought me:
Ratcliff, stay you, and see that it be done.
The rest that love me, rise and follow me.
[Exeunt Gloster and Lords following.
[Manent Lord Hastings, Ratcliff and Guard.
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What! and no more but this—how to the Scaffold!
Oh gentle Ratcliff! tell me do I hold thee?
Or if I dream, what shall I do to wake,
To break, to struggle thro' this dread Confusion?
For surely Death itself is not so painful
As is this sudden Horror and Surprize.
Rat.
You heard, the Duke's Commands to me were absolute.
Therefore my Lord, address you to your Shrift,
With all good Speed you may. Summon your Courage,
And be your self; for you must die this Instant.
L. Hast.
Yes, Ratcliff, I will take thy Friendly Counsel,
And die as a Man should; 'tis somewhat hard,
To call my scatter'd Spirits home at once:
But since what must be, must be—let Necessity
Supply the Place of Time and Preparation,
And arm me for the Blow. 'Tis but to die,
'Tis but to venture on that common Hazard
Which many a Time in Battle I have run.
'Tis but to do, what, at that very Moment,
In many Nations of the peopled Earth,
A thousand and a thousand shall do with me:
'Tis but to close my Eyes, and shut out Day-Light,
To view no more the wicked Ways of Men,
No longer to behold the Tyrant Gloster,
And be a weeping Witness of the Woes,
The Desolation, Slaughter and Calamities,
Which he shall bring on this unhappy Land.
Enter Alicia.
Alic.
Stand off! and let me pass—I will, I must,
Catch him once more in these despairing Arms,
And hold him to my Heart.—Oh Hastings, Hastings!
L. Hast.
Alas! Why com'st thou at this dreadful Moment,
To fill me with new Terrors, new Distractions,
To turn me wild with thy distemper'd Rage,
And shock the Peace of my departing Soul?
Away! I prithee leave me!
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Stop a Minute.—
'Till my full Griefs find Passage.—Oh the Tyrant!
Perdition fall on Gloster's Head and mine.
L. Hast.
What means thy frantick Grief?
Alic.
I cannot speak—
But I have murder'd thee.—Oh I would tell thee!
L. Hast.
Speak, and give Ease to thy conflicting Passions:
Be quick, nor keep me longer in Suspence.
Time presses, and a thousand crowding Thoughts
Break in at once; this Way and that they snatch,
They tear my hurry'd Soul. All claim Attention,
And yet not one is heard. Oh speak and leave me,
For I have Business would employ an Age,
And but a Minute's Time to get it done in.
Alic.
That, That's my Grief—'Tis I that urge thee on,
Thus hunt thee to the Toil, sweep thee from Earth,
And drive thee down this Precipice of Fate.
L. Hast.
Thy Reason is grown wild. Could thy weak Hand
Bring on this mighty Ruin? If it could,
What have I done so grievous to thy Soul,
So deadly, so beyond the Reach of Pardon,
That nothing but my Life can make Attonement?
Alic.
Thy cruel Scorn had stung me to the Heart,
And set my burning Bosom all in Flames:
Raving and mad I flew to my Revenge,
And writ I know not what—told the Protector,
That Shore's detested Wife by Wiles had won thee,
To plot against his Greatness.—He believ'd it,
(Oh dire Event of my pernicious Counsel)
And while I meant Destruction on her Head,
H' has turn'd it all on thine.
L. Hast.
Accursed Jealousy!
O merciless, wild unforgiving Fiend!
Blindfold it runs to undistinguish'd Mischief,
And murders all it meets. Curst be its Rage,
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Be all those easy Fools who give it Harbour:
Who turn a Monster loose among Mankind,
Fiercer than Famine, War, or spotted Pestilence;
Baneful as Death, and Horrible as Hell.
Alic.
If thou wilt Curse, Curse rather thine own Falshood;
Curse the lewd Maxims of thy perjur'd Sex,
Which taught thee first to laugh at Faith and Justice,
To scorn the Solemn Sanctity of Oaths,
And make a Jest of a poor Woman's Ruin:
Curse thy proud Heart, and thy insulting Tongue,
That rais'd this fatal Fury in my Soul,
And urg'd my Veng'ance to undo us both.
Ld. Hast.
Oh thou Inhuman! turn thy Eyes away,
And blast me not with their destructive Beams:
Why shou'd I Curse thee with my dying Breath?
Be gone! and let me sigh it out in Peace.
Alic.
Can'st thou—Oh cruel Hastings, leave me thus!
Hear me, I beg thee—I conjure thee, hear me!
While with an agonizing Heart, I swear
By all the Pangs I feel, by all the Sorrows,
The Terrors and Despair thy Loss shall give me,
My Hate was on my Rival bent alone.
Oh! had I once divin'd, false as thou art,
A Danger to thy Life, I would have dy'd,
I would have met it for thee, and made bare
My ready faithful Breast to save thee from it.
L. Hast.
Now mark! and tremble at Heaven's Just Award,
While thy insatiate Wrath and fell Revenge,
Pursu'd the Innocence which never wrong'd thee,
Behold! the Mischief falls on thee and me;
Remorse and Heaviness of Heart shall wait thee,
And everlasting Anguish be thy Potion:
For me the Snares of Death are wound about me,
And now, in one poor Moment, I am gone.
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Fly to thy Closet, fall upon thy Knee,
And recommend my parting Soul to Mercy.
Alic.
Oh! yet, before I go for ever from thee,
Turn thee in Gentleness and Pity to me,
[Kneeling.
And in Compassion of my strong Affliction,
Say, is it possible you can forgive
The fatal Rashness of ungovern'd Love?
For oh! 'tis certain, if I had not lov'd thee
Beyond my Peace, my Reason, Fame and Life,
Desir'd to Death, and doated to Distraction,
This Day of Horror never should have known us.
L. Hast.
Oh! Rise, and let me hush thy stormy Sorrows.
[Raising her.
Asswage thy Tears, for I will chide no more,
No more upbraid thee, thou unhappy Fair One.
I see the Hand of Heav'n is arm'd against me,
And, in mysterious Providence, decrees,
To punish me by thy mistaking Hand,
Most Righteous Doom! for, oh! while I behold thee,
Thy Wrongs rise up in terrible Array,
And charge thy Ruin on me; thy fair Fame,
Thy spotless Beauty, Innocence, and Youth,
Dishonour'd, blasted and betray'd by me.
Alic.
And does thy Heart relent for my undoing?
Oh! that inhuman Gloster cou'd be mov'd,
But half so easily as I can pardon.
L. Hast.
Here then exchange we mutually Forgiveness.
So may the Guilt of all my broken Vows,
My Perjuries to thee be all forgotten,
As here my Soul acquits thee of my Death,
As here I part without one angry Thought,
As here I leave thee with the softest Tenderness,
Mourning the Chance of our disastrous Loves,
And begging Heav'n to bless and to support thee.
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My Lord, dispatch; the Duke has sent to chide me
For loitering in my Duty.—
L. Hast.
I obey.
Alic.
Insatiate, Savage, Monster! Is a Moment
So tedious to thy Malice? Oh! repay him,
Thou great Avenger, give him Blood for Blood:
Guilt haunt him! Fiends pursue him! Lightnings blast him!
Some horrid, cursed kind of Death o'ertake him,
Suddain, and in the Fullness of his Sins!
That he may know, how terrible it is,
To want that Moment he denies thee now.
L. Hast.
'Tis all in vain, this Rage that tears thy Bosom,
Like a poor Bird that flutters in its Cage,
Thou beat'st thy self to Death. Retire, I beg thee;
To see thee thus, thou know'st not how it wounds me,
Thy Agonies are added to my own,
And make the Burden more than I can bear.
Farewel—Good Angels visit thy Afflictions,
And bring thee Peace and Comfort from above.
Alic.
Oh! stab me to the Heart, some pitying Hand,
Now strike me dead.—
L. Hast.
One Thing I had forgot—
I charge thee by our present common Miseries,
By our past Loves, if yet they have a Name,
By all thy Hopes of Peace here and hereafter,
Let not the Rancour of thy Hate pursue
The Innocence of thy unhappy Friend;
Thou know'st who 'tis I mean; Oh! should'st thou wrong her
Just Heav'n shall double all thy Woes upon thee,
And make 'em know no End—Remember this
As the last Warning of a dying Man:
Farewel for ever.
[The Guards carry Hastings off.
Alic.
For ever! Oh! For ever!
Oh! Who can bear to be a Wretch, for ever!
My Rival too! His last Thoughts hung on her,
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Shall she be blest, and I be curst, for ever!
No: Since her fatal Beauty was the Cause
Of all my Suff'rings, let her share my Pains;
Let her, like me, of ev'ry Joy forlorn,
Devote the Hour when such a Wretch was born:
Like me to Desarts and to Darkness run,
Abhor the Day, and curse the golden Sun;
Cast ev'ry Good, and ev'ry Hope behind;
Detest the Works of Nature, loath Mankind;
Like me, with Cries distracted fill the Air;
Tear her poor Bosom, rend her frantick Hair,
And prove the Torments of the last Despair.
[Exit.
End of the Fourth Act.
| The Tragedy of Jane Shore | |