University of Virginia Library

ACT. V.

Scene I.

The Street.
Enter Bellmour and Dumont or Shore.
Sh.
You saw her then?

Bell.
I met her, as returning
In solemn Penance from the publick Cross.
Before her, certain Rascal Officers,
Slaves in Authority, the Knaves of Justice,
Proclaim'd the Tyrant Gloster's cruel Orders.
On either Side her march'd an ill look'd Priest,
Who with severe, with horrid haggard Eyes,
Did ever and anon by Turns upbraid her,
And thunder in her trembling Ear Damnation.
Around her, numberless the Rabble flow'd,
Shouldring each other, crowding for a View,
Gaping and Gazing, Taunting and Reviling;
Some Pitying, but those, alas! how few!
The most, such Iron Hearts we are, and such
The base Barbarity of Human Kind,
With Insolence and lewd Reproach pursu'd her,
Hooting and Railing, and with Villainous Hands
Gathering the Filth from out the common Ways,
To hurl upon her Head.

Sh.
Inhuman Dogs!
How did she bear it?

Bell.
With the gentlest Patience.
Submissive, sad, and lowly was her Look;
A burning Taper in her Hand she bore,
And on her Shoulders carelesly confus'd
With loose Neglect her lovely Tresses hung;
Upon her Cheek a faintish Flush was spread,
Feeble she seem'd, and sorely smit with Pain,
While bare-foot as she trod the flinty Pavement,
Her Footsteps all along were mark'd with Blood.
Yet silent still she pass'd and unrepining;
Her streaming Eyes bent ever on the Earth,
Except when in some bitter Pang of Sorrow,
To Heav'n she seem'd in fervent Zeal to raise,
And beg that Mercy Man deny'd her here.

Sh.
When was this piteous Sight?

Bell.
These last Two Days.
You know my Care was wholly bent on you,
To find the Happy Means of your Deliverance,
Which but for Hasting's Death I had not gain'd.
During that Time, altho' I have not seen her,
Yet divers trusty Messengers I've sent,
To wait about, and watch a fit Convenience
To give her some Relief; but all in vain.
A churlish Guard attends upon her Steps,
Who menace those with Death that bring her Comfort
And drive all Succour from her.

Sh.
Let 'em threaten.
Let proud Oppression prove its fiercest Malice;
So Heav'n befriend my Soul, as here I vow
To give her Help, and share one Fortune with her.

Bell.
Mean you to see her, thus, in your own Form?

Sh.
I do.

Bell.
And have you Thought upon the Consequence?

Sh.
What is there I should fear?

Bell.
Have you examin'd
Into your inmost Heart, and try'd at leisure
The several secret Springs that move the Passions?
Has Mercy fix'd her Empire there so sure,
That Wrath and Vengeance never may return?
Can you resume a Husband's Name, and bid
That wakeful Dragon fierce Resentment sleep?

Sh.
Why dost thou search so deep, and urge my Memory
To conjure up my Wrongs to life again?
I have long labour'd to forget my self,
To think on all Time, backward, like a Space,
Idle and void, where Nothing e'er had Being;
But thou hast peopled it again; Revenge
And Jealousie renew their horrid Forms,
Shoot all their Fires, and drive me to Distraction.

Bell.
Far be the Thought from me! my Care was only
To arm you for the Meeting: Better were it
Never to see her, than to let that Name
Recal forgotten Rage, and make the Husband
Destroy the generous Pity of Dumont.

Sh.
Oh! thou hast set my busy Brain at work,
And now she musters up a Train of Images,
Which to preserve my Peace I had cast aside,
And sunk in deep Oblivion—Oh! that Form!
That Angel-face on which my Dotage hung!
How have I gaz'd upon her! till my Soul
With very Eagerness went forth towards her,
And issu'd at my Eyes—Was there a Jem
Which the Sun ripens in the Indian Mine,
Or the rich Bosom of the Ocean yields,
What was there Art cou'd make, or Wealth cou'd buy,
Which I have left unsought to deck her Beauty?
What cou'd her King do more?—And yet she fled.

Bell.
Away with that sad Fancy.—

Sh.
Oh! that Day!
The Thought of it must live for ever with me.
I met her, Bellmour, when the Royal Spoiler
Bore her in triumph from my widow'd Home!
Within his Chariot by his Side she sate
And listen'd to his Talk with downward Looks;
Till sudden as she chanc'd aside to glance,
Her Eyes encounter'd mine—Oh! then, my Friend!
Oh! who can point my Grief and her Amazement!
As at the Stroke of Death, twice turn'd she pale,
And twice a burning Crimson blush'd all o'er her;
Then, with a Skriek Heart-wounding, loud she cry'd,
While down her Cheeks Two gushing Torrents ran
Fast falling on her Hands, which thus she wrung—
Mov'd at her Grief the Tyrant Ravisher,
With Courteous Action woo'd her oft to turn;
Earnest he seem'd to plead; but all in vain;
Ev'n to the last she bent her Sight towards me,
And follow'd me—till I had lost my self.

Bell.
Alas! for pity! Oh! those speaking Tears!
Could they be false? Did she not suffer with you?
And tho' the King by force possess'd her Person,
Her unconsenting Heart dwelt still with you:
If all her former Woes were not enough,
Look on her now, behold her where she wanders,
Hunted to Death, distress'd on every side,
With no one Hand to help; and tell me then,
If ever Misery were known like hers?

Sh.
And can she bear it? Can that delicate Frame
Endure the beating of a Storm so rude?
Can she, for whom the various Seasons chang'd,
To court her Appetite. and crown her Board,
For whom the foreign Vintages were press'd,
For whom the Merchant spread his silken Stores,
Can she—
Intreat for Bread, and want the needful Rayment,
To wrap her shivering Bosom from the Weather?
When she was mine, no Care came ever nigh her.
I thought the gentlest Breeze that wakes the Spring
Too rough to breathe upon her. Cheerfulness,
Danc'd all the Day before her; and at Night
Soft Slumbers waited on her downy Pillow—
Now sad and shelterless, perhaps, she lyes,
Where piercing Winds blow sharp, and the chill Rain
Drops from some Pent-house on her wretched Head,
Drenches her Locks, and kills her with the Cold.
It is too much—Hence with her past Offences,
They are atton'd at full—Why stay we then?
Oh! let us haste, my Friend, and find her out.

Bell.
Somewhere about this Quarter of the Town,
I hear the poor abandon'd Creature lingers:
Her Guard, tho' set with strictest Watch to keep
All Food and Friendship from her, yet permit her
To wander in the Streets, there choose her Bed,
And rest her Head on what cold Stone she pleases.

Sh.
Here let us then divide; each in his Round
To search her Sorrows out, whose hap it is
First to behold her, this way let him lead
Her fainting Steps, and meet we here together.

[Exeunt.
Enter Jane Shore, her Hair hanging loose on her Shoulders, and bare-footed.
J. Sh.
Yet, yet endure, nor murmur, Oh! my Soul!
For are not thy Transgressions great and numberless?
Do they not cover thee, like rising Floods,
And press thee like a Weight of Waters down?
Does not the Hand of Righteousness afflict thee;
And who shall plead against it? Who shall say
To Pow'r Almighty, Thou hast done enough:
Or bid his dreadful Rod of Veng'ance, stay?
Wait then with Patience, till the circling Hours
Shall bring the Time of thy appointed Rest,
And lay thee down in Death. The Hireling thus
With Labour drudges out the painful Day,
And often looks with long expecting Eyes
To see the Shadows rise and be dismiss'd.
And hark! methinks the Roar that late pursu'd me,
Sinks, like the Murmurs of a falling Wind,
And softens into Silence. Does Revenge
And Malice then grow weary, and forsake me?
My Guard too, that observ'd me still so close,
Tire in the Task of their inhuman Office,
And loiter far behind. Alas! I faint,
My Spirits fail at once—This is the Door
Of my Alicia—Blessed Opportunity!
I'll steal a little Succour from her Goodness
Now, while no Eye observes me.
[She knocks at the Door.
Enter a Servant.
Is your Lady,
My gentle Friend, at home? Oh! bring me to her.

[Going in.
Serv.
Hold Mistress, whither wou'd you?

[Putting her back.
J. Sh.
Do you not know me?

Serv.
I know you well, and know my Orders too.
You must not enter here—

J. Sh.
Tell my Alicia,
'Tis I would see her.

Serv.
She is ill at Ease,
And will admit no Visitor.

J. Sh.
But tell her
'Tis I, her Friend, the Partner of her Heart,
Wait at the Door and beg—

Serv.
'Tis all in vain—
Go hence, and Howl to those that will regard you.

[Shuts the Door, and Exit.
J. Sh.
It was not always thus; The Time has been,
When this unfriendly Door, that barrs my Passage,
Flew wide, and almost leap'd from off its Hinges
To give me Entrance here; When this good House
Has pour'd forth all its Dwellers to receive me;
When my Approach has made a little Holy-day,
And ev'ry Face was dress'd in Smiles to meet me.
But now 'tis otherwise; and those who bless'd me,
Now curse me to my Face. Why should I wander,
Stray further on, for I can die ev'n here!

[She sits down at the Door.
Enter Alicia in Disorder; Two Servants following.
Alic.
What Wretch art thou? Whose Misery and Baseness
Hangs on my Door; whose hateful Whine of Woe
Breaks in upon my Sorrows, and distracts
My jarring Senses with thy Beggar's Cry.

J. Sh.
A very Beggar, and a Wretch indeed;
One driv'n by strong Calamity to seek
For Succour here. One perishing for Want,
Whose Hunger has not tasted Food these three Days;
And humbly asks, for Charity's dear sake,
A Draught of Water, and a little Bread.

Alic.
And dost thou come to me, to me for Bread?
I know thee not—Go—hunt for it abroad,
Where wanton Hands upon the Earth have scatter'd it,
Or cast it on the Waters—Mark the Eagle,
And hungry Vulture, where they wind the Prey;
Watch where the Ravens of the Valley feed,
And seek thy Food with them—I know thee not.

J. Sh.
And yet there was a Time, when my Alicia
Has thought unhappy Shore her dearest Blessing,
And mourn'd that live-long Day she pass'd without me:
When pair'd like Turtles, we were still together;
When often as we prattled Arm in Arm,
Inclining fondly to me she has sworn,
She lov'd me more than all the World beside.

Alic.
Ha! say'st thou! Let me look upon thee well—
'Tis true—I know thee now—A Mischief on thee!
Thou art that fatal Fair, that cursed she,
That set my Brain a madding. Thou hast robb'd me;
Thou hast undone me—Murder! Oh my Hastings!
See his pale bloody Head shoots glaring by me!
Give him me back again, thou soft Deluder,
Thou Beauteous Witch—

J. Sh.
Alas! I never wrong'd you—
Oh! then be good to me; have pity on me:
Thou never knew'st the Bitterness of Want,
And may'st thou never know it. Oh! bestow
Some poor Remain, the voiding of thy Table,
A Morsel to support my famish'd Soul.

Alic.
Avant! and come not near me—

J. Sh.
To thy Hand
I trusted all, gave my whole Store to thee:
Nor do I ask it back, allow me but
The smallest Pittance, give me but to eat,
Least I fall down and perish here before thee.

Alic.
Nay! tell not me! Where is thy King, thy Edward,
And all the smiling, cringing Train of Courtiers,
That bent the Knee before thee?

J. Sh.
Oh! for Mercy!

Alic.
Mercy! I know it not—for I am miserable.
I'll give thee Misery, for here She dwells;
This is her House, where the Sun never dawns,
The Bird of Night sits screaming o'er the Roof,
Grim Spectres sweep along the horrid Gloom,
And nought is heard but Wailings and Lamentings.
Hark! something Cracks above! it shakes, it totters!
And see the nodding Ruin falls to crush me!
'Tis fall'n! 'tis here! I feel it on my Brain!

1 Serv.
This Sight disorders her—

2 Serv.
Retire, dear Lady—
And leave this Woman—

Alic.
Let her take my Counsel!
Why shoud'st thou be a Wretch? Stab, tear thy Heart,
And rid thy self of this detested Being,
I wo'not linger long behind thee here.
A waving Flood of blewish Fire swells o'er me;
And now 'tis out, and I am drown'd in Blood.
Ha! What art thou! Thou horrid headless Trunk!
It is my Hastings! See! He wafts me on!
Away! I go! I fly! I follow thee.
But come not thou with mischief-making Beauty
To interpose between us, look not on him,
Give thy fond Arts and thy Delusions o'er,
For thou shalt never, never part us more.

[She runs off, her Servants following.
J. Sh.
Alas! She raves; Her Brain, I fear, is turn'd.
In Mercy look upon her, Gracious Heaven,
Nor visit her for any wrong to me.
Sure I am near upon my Journey's End;
My Head runs round, my Eyes begin to fall,
And dancing Shadows swim before my sight.
I can no more. [lies down]
Receive me thou cold Earth,
Thou common Parent, take me to thy Bosom,
And let me rest with Thee.

Enter Bellmour.
Bell.
Upon the Ground!
Thy Miseries can never lay thee lower.
Look up thou poor afflicted one! Thou Mourner
Whom none has comforted! Where are thy Friends,
The dear Companions of thy Joyful Days,
Whose Hearts thy warm Prosperity made glad,
Whose Arms were taught to grow like Ivy round thee,
And bind thee to their Bosoms?—Thus with thee,
Thus let us live, and let us die, they said,
For sure thou art the Sister of our Loves,
And nothing shall divide us—Now where are they?

J. Sh.
Ah! Bellmour, where indeed! They stand aloof,
And view my Desolation from a-far;
When they pass by, they shake their Heads in scorn,
And cry, behold the Harlot and her End!
And yet thy Goodness turns aside to Pity me,
Alas! There may be danger, get thee gone!
Let me not pull a Ruin on thy Head,
Leave me to die alone, for I am fall'n
Never to rise, and all Relief is vain.

Bell.
Yet raise thy drooping Head; for I am come
To chase away Despair. Behold! Where yonder
That honest Man, that faithful brave Dumont,
Is hasting to thy Aid—

J. Sh.
Dumont! Ha! Where!
[Raising her self, and looking about.]
Then Heav'n has heard my Prayer, his very Name
Renews the Springs of Life, and chears my Soul.
Has he then scap'd the Snare?

Bell.
He has, but see—
He comes, unlike to that Dumont you knew,
For now he wears your better Angel's Form,
And comes to visit you with Peace and Pardon.

Enter Shore.
J. Sh.
Speak, tell me! Which is he? And oh! What wou'd
This dreadful Vision! See it comes upon me—
It is my Husband—Ah!

[She Swoons.
Sh.
She Faints! Support her!
Sustain her Head, while I infuse this Cordial
Into her dying Lips—from spicy Drugs,
Rich Herbs and Flow'rs the potent Juice is drawn;
With wondrous Force it strikes the lazy Spirits,
Drives 'em around, and wakens Life anew.

Bell.
Her Weakness could not bear the strong Surprize.
But see, she stirs! And the returning Blood
Faintly begins to blush again, and kindle
Upon her Ashy Cheek—

Sh.
So,—gently raise her—

[Raising her up.
J. Sh.
Ha! What art Thou! Bellmour!

Bell.
How fare you, Lady?

J. Sh.
My Heart is thrill'd with Horror—

Bell.
Be of Courage—
Your Husband lives! 'Tis he, my worthiest Friend—

J. Sh.
Still art thou there!—still dost thou hover round me!
Oh save me Bellmour from his angry Shade!—

Bell.
'Tis he himself!—he lives!—look up—

J. Sh.
I dare not!
Oh that my Eyes could shut him out for ever—

Sh.
Am I so hateful then, so deadly to thee
To blast thy Eyes with Horror? Since I'm grown
A Burthen to the World, my Self and Thee,
Wou'd I had ne'er surviv'd to see Thee more.

J. Sh.
Oh thou most injur'd—Dost thou live indeed!
Fall then ye Mountains on my guilty Head,
Hide me ye Rocks within your secret Caverns,
Cast thy black Veil upon my Shame, O Night!
And shield me with thy sable Wing for ever.

Sh.
Why dost thou turn away?—Why tremble thus?
Why thus indulge thy Fears? And in Despair,
Abandon thy distracted Soul to Horror?
Cast every black and guilty Thought behind thee,
And let 'em never vex thy Quiet more.
My Arms, my Heart are open to receive thee,
To bring thee back to thy forsaken Home,
With tender Joy, with fond forgiving Love,
And all the Longings of my first Desires.

J. Sh.
No, arm thy Brow with Vengeance; and appear
The Minister of Heav'n's enquiring Justice;
Array thy self all terrible for Judgment,
Wrath in thy Eyes, and Thunder in thy Voice;
Pronounce my Sentence, and if yet there be
A Woe I have not felt, inflict it on me.

Sh.
The Measure of thy Sorrows is compleat;
And I am come to snatch thee from Injustice.
The Hand of Pow'r no more shall crush thy Weakness,
Nor proud Oppression grind thy humble Soul.

J. Sh.
Art thou not risen by Miracle from Death?
Thy Shroud is fall'n from off thee, and the Grave
Was bid to give thee up, that thou might'st come
The Messenger of Grace and Goodness to me,
To seal my Peace, and bless me e'er I go.
Oh let me then fall down beneath thy Feet,
And weep my Gratitude for ever there;
Give me your Drops, ye soft-descending Rains,
Give me your Streams, ye never-ceasing Springs,
That my sad Eyes may still supply my Duty,
And feed an everlasting Flood of Sorrow.

Sh.
Waste not thy feeble Spirits—I have long
Beheld, unknown, thy Mourning and Repentance;
Therefore my Heart has set aside the past,
And holds thee white, as unoffending Innocence;
Therefore in spight of cruel Gloster's Rage,
Soon as my Friend had broke my Prison Doors,
I flew to thy Assistance. Let us haste
Now while Occasion seems to smile upon us,
Forsake this Place of Shame, and find a Shelter.

J. Sh.
What shall I say to you? But I obey—

Sh.
Lean on my Arm—

J. Sh.
Alas! I am wondrous faint:
But that's not strange, I have not eat these three Days.

Sh.
Oh Merciless! look here my Love, I've brought thee
Some rich Conserves.—

J. Sh.
How can you be so good?
But you were ever thus; I well remember
With what fond Care, what Diligence of Love,
You lavish'd out your Wealth to buy me Pleasures,
Preventing every Wish: Have you forgot
The costly String of Pearl you brought me Home
And ty'd about my Neck?—How cou'd I leave you?

Sh.
Taste some of this, or this—

J. Sh.
You're strangely alter'd—
Say, gentle Bellmour, is he not? How pale
Your Visage is become? Your Eyes are hollow;
Nay, you are wrinkled too—Alas the Day!
My Wretchedness has cost you many a Tear,
And many a bitter Pang, since last we parted.

Sh.
No more of that—thou talk'st, but do'st not eat.

J. Sh.
My feeble Jaws forget their common Office,
My tasteless Tongue cleaves to the clammy Roof,
And now a gen'ral Loathing grows upon me—
Oh, I am sick at Heart!—

Sh.
Thou murd'rous Sorrow!
Wo't thou still drink her Blood, pursue her still!
Must she then die! Oh, my poor Penitent,
Speak Peace to thy sad Heart: She hears me not;
Grief masters ev'ry Sense—help me to hold her—

Enter Catesby, with a Guard.
Cat.
Seize on 'em both, as Traytors to the State.—

Bell.
What means this Violence!—

[Guard lay hold on Shore and Bellmour.
Cat.
Have we not found you,
In scorn of the Protector's strict Command,
Assisting this base Woman, and abetting
Her Infamy?

Sh.
Infamy on thy Head!
Thou Tool of Power, thou Pander to Authority!
I tell thee Knave, thou know'st of none so Virtuous,
And she that bore thee was an Æthiop to her.

Cat.
You'll answer this at full—Away with 'em.

Sh.
Is Charity grown Treason to your Court?
What honest Man would live beneath such Rulers?
I am content that we shall die together.—

Cat.
Convey the Men to Prison; but for her,
Leave her to hunt her Fortune as she may.

J. Sh.
I will not part with him—for me!—for me!
Oh! must he die for me?

[Following him as he is carry'd off.—She falls.
Sh.
Inhuman Villains!
[Breaks from the Guard.
Stand off! the Agonies of Death are on her—
She pulls, she gripes me hard with her cold Hand.

J. Sh.
Was this Blow wanting to compleat my Ruin!
Oh let him go, ye Ministers of Terror,
He shall offend no more, for I will die,
And yield Obedience to your cruel Master.
Tarry a little, but a little longer,
And take my last Breath with you.

Sh.
Oh my Love!—
Why have I liv'd to see this bitter Moment,
This Grief by far surpassing all my former!
Why dost thou fix thy dying Eyes upon me
With such an earnest, such a pitious Look,
As if thy Heart were full of some sad Meaning
Thou could'st not speak!—

J. Sh.
Forgive me!—but forgive me!

Sh.
Be Witness for me, ye Celestial Host,
Such Mercy and such Pardon as my Soul
Accords to thee, and begs of Heav'n to shew thee;
May such befal me at my latest Hour,
And make my Portion blest or curst for ever.

J. Sh.
Then all is well, and I shall sleep in Peace—
'Tis very dark, and I have lost you now—
Was there not something I would have bequeath'd you?
But I have nothing left me to bestow,
Nothing but one sad Sigh. Oh Mercy Heav'n!

[Dies.
Bell.
There fled the Soul,
And left her Load of Misery behind.

Sh.
Oh my Heart's Treasure! Is this pale sad Visage
All that remains of thee? Are these dead Eyes
The Light that cheer my Soul? Oh heavy Hour!
But I will fix my trembling Lips to thine,
Till I am cold and senseless quite, as thou art.
What, must we part then?—will you—
[To the Guards, taking him away.
Fare thee well—
[Kissing her.
Now execute your Tyrant's Will, and lead me
To Bonds or Death, 'tis equally indifferent.

Bell.
Let those, who view this sad Example, know,
What Fate attends the broken Marriage Vow;
And teach their Children in succeeding Times,
No common Vengeance waits upon these Crimes,
When such severe Repentance could not save,
From Want, from Shame, and an Untimely Grave.

[Exeunt.