University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

As he is going Charlotte enters.
Charlotte.
Where's Freeman? Where's my husband? Are you here?
Give me my father.—
Is this the joy, is this the paradise,
The nuptial boon which, with a thousand sighs
And glowing kisses, you promis'd me?—What?
Sent you your father out to murder mine?
Know that the wound of which my father dy'd
Has kill'd your wife.

Y. Freeman.
O! think that ev'ry tear my Charlotte sheds
Draws from her Freeman's heart the sanguine drops.

Charlotte.
O! O!

(She leans on him and sighs.
Y. Freeman.
Yield not, my love,
So much to grief; for ev'ry sigh you fetch
Flys to my breast, and does the dagger's office.
Sorrows flow on me in too full a tyde;
And much I doubt my pow'r to stem the torrent.

Weldon.
Speak comfort to her; for she seems to faint.
Remember what you promis'd, that you'd bear
The buffetings of the contending winds.
Summons up all your spirits; and disdain
To droop;
For now's your time most to exert the man,
Whose bus'ness is to prop that falling flow'r.

Y. Freeman.
Soul of my soul, look up, and see, in me,
A father, husband, lover, and a friend.
Heav'n surely trys us with afflictions soon,
And checks us in the high-day of our blood,
Lest, with too great share of human bliss,
We shou'd grow wanton, and forget its pow'r.

Charlotte.
Then heaven shou'd give us strength to bear a trial so severe.
When I behold you, when I hear you speak,
I can not think you wou'd be accessary
To such an act as curdles all my blood,
And turns me almost to a weeping statue.

Y. Freeman.
Turn, turn, your eyes on me; and here repose
Your ev'ry sorrow, and your ev'ry care;
For here alone you must expect relief.
(He turns to Weldon.
With how ill a grace, my friend, I strive to administer comfort,
Who want a comforter so much myself.

Weldon.
That you shall have in me, confide in me.

Charlotte.
My father! O! my father!

Y. Freeman.
Your father's death is yet a mystery
Which to-morrow will unveil.

Charlotte.
To-morrow will not give me back my father:
Methinks I hear him cry, Charlotte, my child,
Fill not the arms of him whose barb'rous sire
Imbrued his hand in the same blood of which
You was a part: and must you be obey'd?
That too is hard:
My Freeman is not guilty: O! my heart!
Weldon steps betwixt young Freeman and Charlotte.
Thus I divide ye, till to-morrow shews
On whom the guilt of Briar's death must fall:
If Freeman's innocence appears, then meet,
And make each other's happyness your care;
But, if he's guilty, sever'd then remain
For ever.

Y. Freeman.

Hold; that is unfriendly urg'd: the terms are too severe:
the guiltless for the guilty must not suffer; that
is repugnant to nature's laws and ev'ry rule of right.

Charlotte.
Ah! Freeman, is it so? Then much I fear
I've took my leave of joy.

Weldon.
Oppose not my proposals; trust thy friend,
Who will use evr'y honest art to heal
Your wounds, and to emerge ye from distress.
(Aside to Freeman.
I'm going now
Upon a work that to the world will shew
My sense of honour, justice, and of truth:
To-morrow ye shall see me here again,
If rightly I presage, a welcome guest.

Y. Freeman.
I yield to the conditions: only this,
After I've visited my unhappy father,
Let me watch her slumbers if she sleeps,
Or, if her griefs deny her eyelids rest,

Let me near her, lest, in the absence of her reason,
she may commit some violence on the lovelyest frame
that beauty e'er was cast in.—Let me inteat my mother
to be mindful of herself, and to extend her care
to the dear idol of my eyes and soul, while I am absent
here: expect my quick return; which, I hope,
will be more joyful than this parting is.