University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

—Lady Le Brun's chamber.
Lady Le Brun ushers in Lady Transit.
LADY LE BRUN.
This way, dear madam! You're before your time—
But never mind; my lord will soon be here;
I'm sure he will. I show you to this chamber,
Because it is my private sacristy,
Which nobody approaches. Shall I stay,
Or be at hand to usher in your lord?

LADY TRANSIT.
Stay a few minutes, but till I recover
My flutter'd spirits.

LADY LE BRUN.
Come, come, be compos'd;
I can ensure your perfect reconcilement.

LADY TRANSIT.
Indeed!—I feel as if it cou'd not be.
I won't detain you longer. I'll attend
And wait my lord's arrival.

LADY LE BRUN.
I obey you.
Alas, poor thing! (aside)
.

[Exit.
LADY TRANSIT.
What did that look imply?
It seem'd like pity; it might be contempt;
They are allied too nearly. Did I not
Come here unsanction'd by my father's leave?
And can I wonder if chastising Heaven
Provides a punishment for disobedience?
O Trevor, gallant friend, what wou'd I give
That thou wert now beside me! Ha! who's that?

Sir Charles Le Brun appears.
SIR CHARLES.
A friend as gallant, and not less dispos'd
Than Trevor to protect you. Fear me not!
Whilst you are silent, you are in no danger;
If you cry out, you bring destruction down
On all around you, and perhaps this chamber
Shall float with your unworthy husband's blood.

LADY TRANSIT.
Sir Charles Le Brun, I set you at defiance.
I find that innocence can feel no fear;
That conscious virtue buoys my spirit up,
To meet your menaces with firm contempt.
Why should I cry, when there are none to hear?
When you, whose heart no pity can approach,
Have barr'd your doors from them who might have felt it?

SIR CHARLES.
You do me wrong: you wrong the truest friend
That ever sacrific'd his heart's best feelings
To pity, to respect, to love for woman.
Your faithless husband spurn'd you from his doors,
I open'd mine—You've enter'd, and are safe.

LADY TRANSIT.
Then let me pass.

SIR CHARLES.
Stop! you must hear me first—
I felt your wrongs, and seiz'd the first occasion
To vent my vengeance on the man who wrong'd you:
His insolence soon gave me fair pretence—
My sword was ready; but you stay'd my hand.

LADY TRANSIT.
Did I? Your conscience will have cause to bless me.

SIR CHARLES.
I sheath'd my sword at Trevor's intercession,
Who spoke, as I believ'd, by your commission.
Now will you tell me I am not your friend?
Now will you spurn me, set me at defiance?
Now will you turn my fury on your husband?
Or hear me plead my passion at your feet,
And let me seize this unopposing hand,
And press it to the fondest, truest heart
That ever beat within a lover's breast?

LADY TRANSIT.
Thou wretch! thou murderer, if this be death
That now comes over me—dark, dark, and cold—

(She faints, and Sir Charles supports her.)
SIR CHARLES.
Heav'ns! I have gone too far—She faints—she falls.
Here after a pause, Lord Transit enters unseen by Sir Charles, and stands horror-struck, while Sir Charles proceeds:
Oh, let my arms support you! let my breast
Be Beauty's pillow, lovelier in its paleness
Than when its roseate lustre glow'd so bright
That my rapt eye cou'd hardly rest upon it.

LORD TRANSIT.
I'm petrified with horror—No! Go on;
Stir not—but what you have subdued, support,
And prop the ruin that records your triumph!

SIR CHARLES.
Hear me, my lord!

LORD TRANSIT.
I will not hear you, sir;
Nor will I stay to look upon that wreck
Of all that was divine, and pure, and lovely.
Alive we never part. I shall wait for you.

[Exit.
Lady Le Brun runs to the assistance of Lady Transit.
LADY LE BRUN.
My lord, my lord, return! Sir Charles, you've kill'd her;
Inhuman wretch, you've kill'd her—Hence, away!
Go, hide yourself for ever—I'm your wife,
And cannot speak the word that fits your crime.

Trevor rushes in, and draws his sword.
TREVOR.
I can—a villain! With that word I stamp you,
And with my sword am ready to confirm it.

LADY LE BRUN.
Put up your sword! For Heav'n's sweet sake forbear!
Cease your loud anger! She revives! she lives!

TREVOR.
Louisa, I am with you.

LADY TRANSIT.
Raise me up.
George, something terrible, I know, has happen'd;
But I am innocent—Where is my lord?
Send for him! Madam, if you are sincere,
You can explain—

LADY LE BRUN.
And will—although the truth
Will strike conviction to that heart, whose honour
Shou'd be as dear to me as is my own.

Lord Transit, followed by Fairford and Heartright.
LORD TRANSIT.
Bay not me, sir, with your outrageous din;
Come in, and see your daughter in the arms
Of her triumphant lover.

FAIRFORD.
No, not she;
She is in no man's arms—'Tis false, 'tis false.
You have defam'd my daughter—That I see,
And, by defaming, seek to screen yourself:
That I can understand—My child is wrong'd;
And this your charge is false and foul as hell.

LADY TRANSIT.
George, calm his anger. (To Trevor.)


TREVOR.
Uncle, hear me speak.

FAIRFORD.
Aye, and I'm glad you're here, my gallant boy!

TREVOR.
Lady Le Brun, when I appeal to you,
I know you can expound this dark affair;
And as I think your motives were sincere
In bringing this much-injur'd lady hither,
By justifying her you'll clear yourself.

LADY LE BRUN.
As truly as I can attest to Heaven,
That I invited Lady Transit hither
For no one purpose but to meet her lord,
And seal his pardon,—so can I declare
She came for that sole purpose, being told
By me expressly, that Sir Charles Le Brun
Was gone from Town. For this I had his word;
And why he broke it, why he came by stealth,
By robber-like surprise (for other name
I cannot give it), to insult this lady,
Under his own roof, let Sir Charles account;
I cannot.

LORD TRANSIT.
Nor can he devise a tale
To overthrow the evidence of sight.
I saw my wife encircled by his arms,
Claspt in his fond embrace—Aghast I stood
Rooted with horror—He the whilst exclaim'd—
“Oh, let my arms support you! Let my breast
“Be Beauty's pillow!”—More he said; but this
Will serve his character, the favour'd lover.

SIR CHARLES.
Lord Transit, when I call'd on you to hear,
I wou'd have utter'd from my heart the truth
You wou'd not hear: proudly you turn'd away,
Threw me your challenge, threaten'd me with death,
And thought to force confessions from my fear,
Which from my conscience I had freely made.
I know the duty that I owe to truth,
To innocence, to justice—and I'll pay it;
But not at your command, nor till I see
That letter which my wife was pleas'd to write,
And sent by Mr. Pliant to your lordship.

LADY LE BRUN.
Lord Transit, if you have that letter with you,
I solemnly adjure you to produce it.

LORD TRANSIT.
Here is the letter—Let your husband read it.

(Gives it to Lady Le Brun.)
Pliant enters.
PLIANT.
Ah! here I am, the source of all confusion!
Ah, my sweet lady, if you want to know
Who 'twas betray'd your letter to Sir Charles,
'Twas I—I did it—I do all the mischief,
And never mean it—That is my misfortune—

LADY LE BRUN.
And every body's else, that has to do with you.

PLIANT.
I know it; I acknowledge it for truth.
No sooner do I fasten on a man
My curst left-handed friendship, down he goes
Plump as the whale does when the Thresher rides him.

SIR CHARLES.
Lady Le Brun, I'm satisfied—Your letter
Does honour to your heart. I ask your pardon.

LADY TRANSIT.
I now desire Sir Charles will recollect,
That I stand here and silently endure
Unjust suspicions to attaint my honour.
'Tis time for innocence to speak, when crimes
Black and detestable are on the point
Of being shifted from their real author,
And fasten'd upon me. Sir Charles, confess!

SIR CHARLES.
If Honour ever harbour'd in my heart,
Or Truth e'er found a passage to my lips,
'Tis now—when solemnly I do aver
Myself the hateful cause that casts a doubt
Ev'n for a moment on that spotless wife,
Who, when expecting to receive her husband,
Was by my rude, profane assailance struck
With indignation, terror, and surprise;
And fainting, nay, expiring, as I fear'd,
Was so discover'd senseless in my arms.

FAIRFORD.
Ay, vengeance light upon you! well she might.

SIR CHARLES.
Now, if my lord has any other doubt,
Let him propound it.

LORD TRANSIT.
You was at the castle,
And visited my Lady Transit there
The instant I had left it.

SIR CHARLES.
I was there,
And only found admission to your lady
On the surmise that I might be encharg'd
With some kind message from you; some farewell
That look'd like pity, which you never felt.

FAIRFORD.
There, my Lord Transit, have you heard enough?
Will that content you?

HEARTRIGHT.
Come, no more of this.
His heart is wounded deep, and deep enough;
Your acids will but agonize it more.
Look, look! the load-star that directs his course
Beams in your daughter's eyes. See where he moves,
And follows as its soft attraction draws,
To its safe haven, there to rest for ever.

(Lord Transit during this speech fondly advances towards his wife, and in conclusion falls into her arms.)
FAIRFORD.
There, there! All's over!—Heartright, I cou'd hug you,
'Sdeath, I cou'd strangle you, but that I love you.
Oh, you can smile—Egad, I'm pleas'd to see it.

HEARTRIGHT.
Yes, 'tis a sympathy my muscles have,
A kind of trick, when I see others happy.
Jests are not apt to move them.

FAIRFORD.
Nephew George,
I won't say much to you. I feel the more.

LORD TRANSIT.
When Mercy and Forgiveness are gone forth,
The moment is auspicious to offenders.
May it not then be time for us, who feel
And own our imperfections, to prefer
The only plea that we presume to urge—
A zeal to profit, and a wish to please?