 | Love the Cause and Cure of Grief, or The Innocent Murderer |  |
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ACT III.
SCENE I.
SCENE a Garden.Young Freeman and Charlotte.
Y. Freeman.
This Morning's Sun shines on the happyest Husband
That ever yet possess'd a lovely Bride.
Behold, my Love, the splendid Eye of Day
Looks o'er the Hills in Brightness all array'd,
While at our Feet the Flow'rs send up their Sweets,
And ev'ry Tree, and Bush, is Melody,
As if all Nature hail'd us to our Bliss.
Charlotte.
I'm surely bless'd beyond the Lot of Wives:
I cou'd say much upon our happy State.
Y. Freeman.
Hide not a Blush, a Blush the Morning wears.
Charlotte.
I've not a Want, my dearest Freeman, now,
But my poor Mother's and my Father's Smiles;
Which I shall soon behold; for your good Father
Went early out to seek the the wish'd-for Guests,
And bring them hither.
Y. Freeman.
Swift ye Minutes run,
And bring to my Embrace that honour'd Pair,
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In this dear Bosom of unrival'd Sweets
Is all the Treasure of my Soul repos'd.
SCENE II.
Weldon enters.Weldon.
There stands a Friend, so much he shares my Heart,
Whose Peace I value equal to my own;
Yet must his Ears receive a Tale from me
Which to his early, his ecstatic, Joys
Will prove like Blightings to the budding Flow'rs:
But 'tis a Tale that, if I shou'd not tell it,
He soon must hear from a less friendly Voice.
[To himself.
Joy to my Freeman and his charming Bride;
And much I wish that I cou'd give you both,
As you deserve, more Comfort than I bring.
Y. Freeman.
Welcome the dear Companion of my Youth,
My much lov'd Weldon: thou art come to share,
And to encrease, the Pleasures of the Day:
But, my dear faithful Friend, methinks you wear
A Sadness in your Countenance, that suits
The present Hour but ill.
Weldon.
I've at my Heart
A Burden which I must unload to you,
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Seems but ill chosen for a Task like this,
It must not be delay'd.
Y. Freeman.
Go in, my Love:
Thou Beauty who art always in my Eye!
Charlotte.
Whate'er my Beauty is, my only Pride
Is plac'd in my Obedience and my Love.
[She goes.
SCENE III.
Weldon.Freeman, we've long been Friends; and, when at College,
We've often turn'd, with an enquiring Eye,
Together o'er the philosophic Page;
Thence have we learn'd that true Philosophy
Consists in bearing Ills inevitable
With the same Patience as we'd view a Storm,
Which is not in our Pow'r to stop or lay.
Y. Freeman.
So well I know my Friend that I am sure
He wou'd not bring a Trifle to my Ear
Prepar'd with such Solemnity as this.
Speak what you have to say; I am resign'd.
Weldon.
I'm glad you are; for you have much to bear.
Y. Freeman.
What can affect my Peace? My Charlotte's well,
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But hold, I now begin to doubt my Pow'r.
If the sad Story which you have to tell
Is of the Sorrows which you bear yourself,
I shall break in upon the Joys which I
Propos'd to-day, and mix my Griefs with thine.
Weldon.
Your Tenderness for me makes me already
Anticipate the Anguish to myself,
Which you too soon must feel: howe'er, resolve
To bear it like a Man. Be sure I will
Not leave the Friend I love, my second self,
In the Distress with which I shall o'erwhelm you,
For I will keep a friendly stretch'd-out Hand,
Till I have pull'd you out, or sunk with you.
Stand firm; be ready for the Stroke.
Y. Freeman.
I am.
You see a sturdy Oak that well will bear
The Buffeting of the contending Winds.
Weldon.
Stand firm I say again. Within this Hour
I saw your Father seiz'd, and haul'd to Jail.
Y. Freeman.
At that I'm more surpris'd than terrify'd:
The Action must be forg'd, he's not in Debt.
Weldon.
This is but as a Breeze that only moves
The Leaves, and has not Force to shake them off:
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Keep steady as the Oak, and fortify
Your Mind with Resolution; for the Charge
Against your Father is no less than Murder.
Y. Freeman.
He never cou'd delight in Blood, but rather
Wou'd spill his own to save another's: yet
Go on, and tell me who's the murder'd Person.
Weldon.
Give me your Hand; and stand against this Blast,
And you may bear the Rest.—Your Charlotte's Father
Is dead.
Y. Freeman.
Murder'd by whom? Not by my Father;
For since your Arbitration of the Diff'rence
Betwixt them, they were Friends, without Reserve,
And by the strictest Bonds which cou'd be bound:
There's in our Familys so great a Change,
That all our Hearts are one. I have some Hopes
That the Report of Briar's Death is false.
Weldon.
I saw him breathless, and besmear'd with Blood,
And saw your Father, after he was seiz'd,
And hear'd the Charge, the fatal Charge, against him,
With ev'ry Circumstance attending it.
Y. Freeman.
I'll lay my Hand upon your friendly Arm,
While you relate me each particular
Of this mysterious melancholly Tale.
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Briar, unhappy to his End, was found,
In his own Fields, dead and besmear'd with Blood,
And in his Side a Wound; your Father by him,
And in his Hand the Staff that gave the Blow,
The iron Spike at the sharp End of which
Was cover'd o'er with Blood, and, as they try'd,
Exactly fill'd the Wound: thus stands the Case.
Y. Freeman.
This is like Thunder from the Hand of Heav'n;
And I must yield to it.
Weldon.
Bear up, my Friend;
Droop not beneath the Storm that beats upon you.
I will use ev'ry honest Art to heal
Your Wounds, and to emerge you from Distress.
I'm going now, confide, dear Freeman, in me,
Upon a Work that to the World will shew
My Sense of Honour, Justice, and of Truth.
[He goes.
SCENE IV.
Mrs. Freeman enters.Mrs. Freeman.
Was ever pleasant Morn o'ercast like this!
O! my lov'd Son, for much expected Joy,
Array yourself with Sadness and Despair.
I have receiv'd such fatal Tidings as
I dread to tell.
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They have already reach'd
My Ear, and deeply enter'd in my Heart.
Madam, retire, and leave to me to guide
The shipwreck'd Bark thro such a Storm as this.
What Comfort I can bring my honour'd Mother
She may be sure I'll give.
Mrs. Freeman.
Talk not to me
Of Comfort; I'll have none; for none do I
Deserve. O! cou'd I but recall the Hour
In which my Pride drove me to Briar's House,
Contented I'd meet Death in any Form!
Y. Freeman.
My dearest Mother, add no recent Griefs
To those which now are scarcely to be borne.
O! my poor Charlotte, what hast thou to feel!
Mrs. Freeman.
The Torrent has o'erwhelm'd that lovely Flow'r;
Which I committed to the Care of those
Who will not be unmindful of their Charge.
Y. Freeman.
That Charge be only mine.
SCENE V.
As he is going Charlotte enters.Charlotte.
Where's Freeman? Where's
My Husband? Are you here? Give me my Father.—
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The nuptial Boon which, with a thousand Sighs,
And glowing Kisses, you promis'd me?—What?
Sent you your Father forth to murder mine?
Know that the Wound of which my Father dy'd
Has kill'd your Wife, has kill'd your loving Wife.
Y. Freeman.
O! think that ev'ry Tear my Charlotte sheds,
Draws from her Freeman's Heart the sanguin Drops.
Charlotte.
O! O!
[She leans on him, and sighs.
Y. Freeman.
Yield not, my Love, yield not, my Life,
So much to Grief; for ev'ry Sigh you fetch
Flys to my Breast, and does the Dagger's Office.
Soul of my Soul look up, and see, in me,
A Father, Husband, Lover, and a Friend.
Mrs. Freeman
O! Sight of Woe! too much for me to bear!
I must withdraw myself, or sink beneath
The Weight of Sorrow which their Griefs bring on me.
Hide me ye Hills, and cover me from Day;
Nor ever let me taste of Comfort more,
Till my lov'd Children, and my much lov'd Husband,
Are free from Danger, and to Joy restor'd.
[She goes.
SCENE VI.
Charlotte.My Father! O! my Father! Wretched Wife!
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Your Father's Death is yet a Mystery,
A Myst'ry which To-morrow may 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 Hands in the same Blood of which
You was a Part: and must you be obey'd?
That too is hard: my Love is innocent,
My Freeman is not guilty: O! my Heart!
Y. Freeman.
Here sit, my Love, here let my Charlotte rest;
And I'll be near you, near my Soul's Support,
He comes forwards.
Lest in the dreadful Absence of her Reason,
She shou'd commit some Violence upon
The lovely'st Frame that Beauty e'er was cast in.
He goes towards her.
If there are Ministers of Heav'n to guard
The innocent, and Virtue is their Care,
Here let them take a Charge that's worthy them,
And from her fair unblemish'd Seat of Thought
Drive ev'ry Image of Affliction; there
Let no Appearances Admittance gain
But what are fraught with Joy: to her Mind's Eye
Shew the fair Prospect of our future Loves;
And let no Traces of her former Griefs
Be lurking there; but let her rise to Bliss.
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SCENE VII.
A Servant enters.Servant.
With Sorrow I approach my much lov'd Master,
When I must bring Addition to his Woes.
The virtuous Matron's dead; the Weight of Grief,
Pressing too fast upon her gentle Nature,
Has stop'd her Springs of Life; and she's no more.
Y. Freeman.
Who is no more?
Servant.
Your Charlotte's Mother's dead.
[Charlotte faints.
Y. Freeman
She sinks, she faints; and if the Angel's fled
To her original Seat of Bliss, to Heav'n,
I've Nothing more to manage here on Earth.
[Turning to the Servant.
This is a Tale you shou'd have told to me,
To me alone, that at a proper Season,
More fit than this, it might have reach'd her Ear.
O! Charlotte! O! my Wife! hear, hear, the Voice
Of him that calls you back to Life, to Love.—
Her Breast is cold, her Eyes have loss'd their Lustre;
But her Breath's sweeter than the Syrian Rose.
O! charm me with the Music of thy Voice!—
She breathes; and on her Lips Carnations bloom;
And her Eyes cheer me like the Morning Sun.
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Who calls me back to Life, to Wretchedness?
Y. Freeman.
To Life, my Soul, and Love, to Love, and me;
For, after such a black and dismal Storm,
The Face of Heav'n must soon begin to clear.
Charlotte.
Mine is no common Case, no vulgar Misery:
A loving Father and the tenderest Mother
That ever a poor Child was bless'd with, gone,
Gone, and for ever loss'd to wretched me.
Who, not divested of Humanity,
Can see my Woes with an unpitying Eye?
And what Daughter (I am no Daughter now!)
What Child, what Orphan Child, that has a Sense
Of Duty and of Love, can think of Joy,
Or can, in my Condition, think of Life?
Come, Death, to one that earnestly invokes you,
O! come thou friendly everlasting Sleep,
And close my Eyes in Night that knows no Dawn.
Y. Freeman.
Perish a thousand Worlds rather than you,
Than you, to me a World of Sweets, shou'd give
Those scarcely tasted Beautys to the Grave!
'Tis Virtue now to live, and great the Virtue,
To save that Life which all depends on thine.
Charlotte.
If I can live, I need not strive to love.—
O! Freeman, take me to your honest Heart;
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Life will be worth my Care, preserv'd by you.
Tho strong the Pains which have besieg'd me round,
Your Love must be the Cure of all my Grief.
Y. Freeman.
Thou sweetly drooping Flow'r, come to this Breast,
Which has no Room for any Guest but you.
I have no Thoughts of Paradise beyond
What my dear Charlotte, what my Love, can give:
I have no Wish, but what I wish for you:
Wish I to live, 'tis that my Life may be
Employ'd in tender Offices to you:
Wou'd I behold Encrease of Flocks and Herds,
'Tis that I wou'd encrease my Love's fair Dow'r:
Have I delight to see my Garden yield
The fairest Flow'rs which e'er adorn'd the Spring,
'Tis that they may adorn a fairer Flow'r:
If, when I walk my Orchard round, I hope
To see my Fruit-trees bending with their Weight,
'Tis that I may prepare a grateful Feast,
And to the cheerful Banquet call my Love:
Whate'er I wish to have, or wish to be,
'Tis to improve thy Bliss, and merit thee.
[They go.
SCENE VIII.
The Court sitting, the Judge, the Jury, Witnesses, Freeman senr. at the Bar, and Weldon Foreman of the Jury.Judge.
Hear and consider well the Charge against him.
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Swear that they found him striding o'er the dead,
And in his Hand a Staff, whose bloody Point
Exactly fill'd the Wound, fresh bleeding then:
From what we've hear'd we must our Judgement pass;
In mine he's guilty; but the Sentence rests
In you the Arbitrators of his Life:
You, who are foremost of the Jury, speak.
Weldon.
He's innocent.
Judge.
Is that the Voice of all?
Weldon.
I speak, my Lord, th'unbyass'd Voice of all.
Judge.
Now, by the sacred Majesty of Heav'n,
That sees and judges all, the Blood of him,
Our fellow Subject, who was foully murder'd,
Crys loud for Justice; Blood for Blood repay:
In him the King, his Wife, and only Child,
Have loss'd a Subject, Husband, and a Father:
The King, his Wife, and Child, of you demand
That Justice shou'd be executed here.
Weldon.
Give me your Promise that his Life's secure,
And I'll produce in Court the Man that kill'd him;
Nor do I ask that Promise but on Terms
Which you may grant with Honour to your Name.
If it appears that he who kill'd him did it
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But in his own Defence, your Promise stands.
Judge.
I freely give it; and be Heaven's high Judge
The Witness of my Heart.
Weldon.
I am the Man.
Judge.
Bold and intrepid.—Quick proceed to ease
Th'astonish'd Court, that's full of Expectation.
Quick and proceed I say.
Weldon.
Behold in me
The Man that kill'd him, but no Murderer.
Judge.
Now to the Fact.
Weldon.
Tho much my Mind is shock'd
At the Remembrance of the fatal Deed,
And gladly wou'd avoid th'unpleasing Tale,
Yet, in Regard to Truth and my fair Name,
I will begin.—Early in the Morning, as
My Custom was, I walk'd o'er Briar's Grounds,
And met him unexpected in my Way:
I took Occasion then to talk to him
Of an Account that had been long betwixt us:
As our Dispute grew high, I thought he us'd
A Language too ingrateful to the Man
Who had been a patient Creditor so long:
He did indeed provoke me, by his Usage,
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Than ever yet I treated any Man,
And to reproach him with Severity:
Th'unhappy Man, impatient of Rebuke,
Struck on my Temples with an oaken Staff:
Amidst my Rage the Stick I wrested from him,
And, smarting with the Blow, drove at his Side;
When suddenly he fell, and with a Groan
Cry'd, I've deserv'd my Death, and spoke no more:
Astonish'd at the Blood which flow'd from him,
I view'd the Staff; at the small End of which
Was a sharp iron Spike, which had before
Escap'd my Eye. Surpris'd I look'd around,
And, seeing no one near, I walk'd away,
And sighing thought the poor ill-fated Man
Had too severely pay'd the Debt he ow'd me.
My Sorrows with my Story so encrease,
I beg a Respite here. My Friend can best,
For he best knows, relate what happen'd next,
When, walking o'er the Field, he found him dead.
Judge.
Th'almighty Judge knows how my Soul rejoices
At this our Clearing of the innocent.
Take up the Thread of this surprising Tale;
[To Freeman senr.
And balk not our Attention with Delay.
Freeman senr.
Gay, and as joyful as the Sun, I went
To ask th'unhappy Man, that's dead, to come
| Love the Cause and Cure of Grief, or The Innocent Murderer | |