 | Francis Beaumont |  |
Scene I.
—An open heath.[Francis Beaumont alone.]
Francis
Oh! I can toil no longer! 'Tis in vain.
A load of sorrow weighs my spirit down.
The thought of what I was, and what I am,
Drives me to phrenzy! I will think no more.
My brain turns round—my giddy senses swim—
And I am sick and weary unto death.
Death! would that it were here! Thou antic Death,
That mock'st the pamper'd creatures of the world,
Why com'st thou not to him that calls upon thee?
Princes and monarchs from thy presence fly;
The high and mighty of the earth thou scarest:
He to whom man is slave and parasite,
Whom fickle woman flatters with her smile;
He whom the summer courts, and winter's breath
Not roughly visits; who commands the winds,
The land, the sea, and every element,
To minister soft motion and delight;
To him the very name of death is dreadful:
But for a wretch like me it hath no terrors;
Come in what shape it may, it could not seem
So hideous to me as life itself.
It could not—
[The form of the Tempter rises.]
Ha! what vision is before me?
Who art thou?
4
One that reads thine inmost thoughts.
Francis.
If from the realm of spirits thou art sent
To commune with a denizen of earth,
I'm in a mood to hear thee. Speak thine errand.
The Tempter.
I speak at thy suggestion, not before.
What darkly thou conceivest I unfold,
Interpret all the wishes of thine heart,
And show thee where thy strength and weakness lie.
Francis.
Hast thou the power to execute my will?
The Tempter.
To execute is thine: but I can help
To turn thy thoughts to purpose and resolve.
Francis.
I would do many things, but lack the means.
The Tempter.
Means are not wanting where the will is strong.
Francis.
Books tell me so, but not the page of life.
The Tempter.
Thou call'st on death, as myriads of thy race
Have done before, yet shunn'st the ready way
To find him whom thou seek'st.
Francis.
I shun him not.
The Tempter.
Thou eatest still the food that life sustains.
Francis.
I would not die in lingering agony.
5
The rope, the dagger, or the subtle poison,
Will bring thee to an end with speed enough.
Francis.
But suicide! There's horror in the thought!
And 'tis a last resource, when all things fail.
The Tempter.
Go, seek an honourable soldier's grave.
Francis.
Were honour to be gain'd, I'd quickly go,
Fly to the farthest corners of the earth,
And seek the victor's meed through fire and slaughter.
But to be rank'd among the nameless herd,
To sell my blood for paltry sustenance;
To fall uncared for, and to lie unburied
Amidst a heap of putrid carcases,
That other men may plant upon their brows
The laurels which I win and I deserve:
Methinks there is no honour in all this.
The Tempter.
The world would only say that Francis Beaumont
Enlisted for a common soldier.
Francis.
Mine enemies would triumph over it.
The Tempter.
A few that wish thee dead and gone would triumph:
The rest would sneer awhile, and soon forget thee.
Francis.
Before I perish, let me have revenge.
The Tempter.
Who is thy deadliest enemy?
Francis.
Orlando.
6
Thy cousin.
Francis.
Curse on his relationship.
The Tempter.
He holds the goodly fief that should be thine.
Francis.
Yes: and he spurn'd me from my father's hearth,
And bade his menials chase me from the door.
The Tempter.
He woo's the daughter of old Egerton.
Francis.
She loves him not. Her vows are given to me.
The Tempter.
Her father urges her to wed thy cousin
And his broad lands.
Francis.
She never shall be his.
The Tempter.
Last night thou saw'st him in thy father's park.
Francis.
I did. A strange desire came over me
To wander o'er the well-known haunts once more,
And muse on bygone days. In saddest mood
I sallied forth, to trespass on the land
That once I deem'd my own inheritance.
'Twas midnight. Spectre-like I paced along
The dark broad avenues, o'er which the moon
Cast a pale light; when sudden I beheld,
Returning from the steward's house, Orlando,
Wrapt in a cloak: I knew him by his gait;
He saw not me, but pass'd with hurried step
Thro' the elm walk.
7
The thought occurr'd to thee,
How easily thou might'st dispatch the man
Who stands between thee and thy dearest hopes.
Francis.
He was alone, and not a creature near
To help him, if he cried.
The Tempter.
He may, perhaps,
Be there again to-night.
Francis.
And should I kill him,
Demon or Spirit, whosoe'er thou be,
Tell me, shall I be safe?
The Tempter.
'Tis not revealed:
But wherefore askest thou? Methought, poor wretch,
Death had for thee no terrors. Go and do
What thine heart prompts, and what thy spirit dares.
I leave thee to fulfil thy destiny.
[The Tempter vanishes.]
Francis.
He stands alone between me and my rights!
I would—yet not for that; but for revenge.
To spurn me from the house where I was born,
The threshold of my ancestors! To rob me
Of my soul's treasure and my plighted love!
And Egerton, the mercenary banker,
Who courted me while I was fortune's heir,
Now, if he meets me, looking cold and sullen,
Avoiding me as if I were a beggar!
Oh! 'tis enough to make one hate mankind:
There's nothing in the world but treachery.
| Francis Beaumont | |