University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

The bed-chamber of Trapbois: very bare, hung, in parts, with ragged tapestry. A window on the left. Beneath it, a seat: a bed on the right: a table under which is a chest chained to the floor.
From a door behind the tapestry, enter Trapbois, in an old damask night-gown.
Trapb.
Old as they think me,—ugh,—I can cross bite them.
Let's see all safe before we sleep. These jewels,
(Opening a casket which he takes from his pocket.)
I would not lend six thousand pounds upon 'em,
For all the Master Heriots in the town:
But there be fools, who will; so I shall make
The broker's penny on 'em—Ugh! they're things
I never liked the charge of. I was wrong
To let that Heriot have my undertaking
(Unlocks the chest under the table with one hand, holding the casket in the other.)
For the safe render of them; were I robb'd now,
I must be answerable. Lie with me.
(Relocks the chest, takes the jewels out of the casket, which he puts empty on the table, and folds them

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into a leathern case, which he thrusts into the pocket of his night-gown: Then putting out the lamp, he gets into bed.)
We'll not be parted for to-night. So, so,
I have the trick on't.

(When all is still, Dalgarno without, from below, climbs to the window and enters, followed by Peppercole. They both wear masks and cloaks. Peppercole carries also a dark lanthorn.)
Dalg.
Speedily, but softly.

Pep.
An' this be called a frolic, then I know not
What makes a burglary. Doth the true manhood,
Like the salt water, wait upon the moon?
Methinks, my valour then is most at full,
When vulgar day is down— (he gropes towards the chest.)
Beard of my father!
What noise?

Dalg.
The echo of a bragging tongue;
A swagger at the second hand.—Hast found it?
Thou didst affect to be familiar here.

Pep.
The chest is chained.

Dalg.
Thou hast thy picklock: that
Will serve the turn.

Pep.
What will it not, when I
Command its service?

Dalg.
Work it then, and prate not.

Pep.
(picking the lock.)
Hark!

Dalg.
Hush! Thou doest nothing, but with noise;
Thou can'st not go a bat-fowling o'nights,
But bear'st a cracker in thy lanthorn.

(The moon rising, shines in over the window-seat. Trapbois stirs in bed.)
Pep.
There!

Trapb.
Who's that?

Dalg.
I shall know to silence him.

Trapb.
(stumbling out of bed.)
Ugh!—thieves again!

Dalg.
(Forcing Trapbois back to the bed.)
Dare but so much as breathe
Above a whisper, and you breathe your last!

Pep.
Such a vile pickster!

Dalg.
Quick, knave, or this muzzle— (Pointing his pistol towards Peppercole.)

Shall teach thy nostrils a more intimate smell
Of dry salt-petre, than they ever whiff'd
Of moist Virginia.

Trap.
I can hold no longer:
Better my life be reft at once—

(They struggle: the old man tears Dalgarno's scarf.)
Dalg.
Again!
Thou strugglest toughly for thy years; but this
(Noosing the torn scarf over the mouth of Trapbois.)
At least will muffle thee.

Trapb.
(Grasping the leathern case, the top of which peeps from his night gown pocket.)
What, wilt thou gag me?

Dalg.
And bind those bony hands. What's that they hug
With such a deadly gripe?

Pep.
(bringing up the dark lanthorn.)
The very jewels,
The ruby gems we seek! How red they glimmer!

Dalg.
I'd have them, were they redder than his blood.

Trapb.
Help! murder! murder!

Dalg.
(tearing the jewels from the leathern case.)
Nay, if thou peal out
That shrill alarm, our own security
Will need a shorter course.

Martha rushes in, from a door opposite to the tapestry.
Martha.
No, on my soul,
Murderer! for in a father's cause, the nerves
Ev'n of weak woman catch a giant's strength,
And dash th'assassin off!

(She arrests the right hand of Dalgarno, which is raised over Trapbois, and falls on her knees in the effort; while Dalgarno's left hand becomes entangled in, and strains, the scarf, which having been noosed over the old man's mouth, is now, by his own resistance, slipped and tightened round his throat.
Trapb.
(Faintly.)
They've done it, housewife.

(The leathern case drops from his hand, he gasps and dies.)
Dalg.
'Tis false, old churl—not I, but thine own struggles
Have strain'd the noose thy feeble breath is choked with.
Down, woman, down!

A noise is heard behind the tapestry, as of some one trying to force his way. Martha stoops her head, and snatches a pistol from Dalgarno's belt.
Martha.
Down—but to rise in vengeance!

Dalgarno with his left hand which he has withdrawn from the scarf, seizes Martha; and having parried, with his right hand, the pistol she points at him, endeavours to force it from her.
Dalg.
Then thus we close the strife. (He wrests the pistol from her) Nigel, bursting through the tapestry door, discharges his pistol at Dalgarno.


Nigel.
And thus make up
Th'account of blood!

Pep.
(retreating through the open door at which Martha entered.)
Which balance, I'll not wait
The striking of.

[Exit.
Dalgarno presents at Nigel his pistol, which, missing fire, he throws away, and draws his sword.
Dalg.
I am but grazed, not maimed.

They fight: Dalgarno is driven back to the window seat. Through the window opposite, lights are seen.
Martha.

Hark! voices! help! Good people,
murder! help!

Nigel.
Yield, ruffian, thy resistance is in vain
Against approaching numbers!

Hildebrod, and others
(without)
Up stairs!

Martha.
Ha!
They hear and come! Now, felon, we shall have thee!
[Exit Martha.

Dalg.
(leaping upon the window seat)
If I give ground, it is to numbers, not
To thee.

(Throws himself from the window with the jewels in his left hand, fighting with his right to the last.)
Nigel.
I'd rather fight a few more passes,
Than keep this lonely guard of death and darkness.
What, does the old man stir? Sure something rustled
Like his harsh gown. Shame on my fev'rish fancy!
The light!

Re-enter Martha followed by Hildebrod Jin. Vin. habited as a Waterman, and Alsatians, bearing lights.
Jin.
One, now as I approached the house,
Burst from the door.

Nigel.
The other fought his way
To yonder casement.

Hild.
(approaching the body.)
Here's no wound.

Nigel.
This scarf,
This was the deadly means.

Martha.
(who has thrown herself on her knees before the body)
No breath! no motion!

Hild.
(To Nigel)
Both masqued, you say?

Martha.
(Starting up)
Diligence, bailiff—Justice—
And full revenge!

Hild.
To-morrow: my police
Are scarce in trim to take the field to-night.

Martha.
What would you give the murd'rers time, t'escape?

Hild.
Silence!

Martha.
A daughter silent, while her father
Lies murder'd at her feet! Man, it were best
You trifle not with me!

Hild.
With a she-bear
As soon. You will have justice, never fear,
Mistress, for you can pay her. What is that?
(To Nigel, who has taken up the empty casket, left on the table by Trapbois)
A jewel-casket?

Nigel.
(throwing it again on the table)
One I know too well!
Its rich contents filch'd out,—and, with them gone
The lands and hopes of Nigel!

Hild.
Why your burglar
Must live by's trade, like others—Well, be watchful;
And I will hold my inquest here to-morrow,
At two i'the afternoon, when (To Nigel and Martha)
you'll attend
As witnesses. (Aside to Nigel)
I leave you with the heiress;
Hum! you conceive me?

[Exit winking his one eye at Nigel, and followed by all, except Nigel, Martha, and Jin. Vin.
Nigel.
Pestilent ribaldry,
Unquenchable as the Greek fire, will flash
Amid the very damps of death itself!
Now lad, (To Jin. Vin.)
your bus'ness?

Jin.
I am sent by friends,
That wish you from Whitefriar's. I've a boat yonder.

(Nigel and Jin. Vin. confer aside.
Martha.
I knew 'twould come to this! My poor, poor father!
For the accursed gold they've murder'd him!

Nigel.
(To himself.)
The king's to hunt at dawn, in Greenwich park.
Why not at once present myself before him,
And trust his goodness?

Jin.
Well, resolve at once.

Nigel.
Wait for me, then, here, by the river stairs.

Jin.
Then, quickly.

[Exit.
Nigel.
I am very loath to leave
A lonely woman in the house of death;
But I must quit this roof.

Martha.
I will go with you.

Nigel.
You!

Martha.
Yes. I will persuade my poor old father
To quit this murd'rous den. My father! Oh!
I have no father now.

Nigel.
Would I could help you.

Martha.
(As if suddenly taking her resolution.)
Then give me but a passage in your boat,
Unto Paul's wharf. I've kinsfolk there, with whom
I would fain take my shelter, 'till this inquest.

Nigel.
The boat shall land you there.

[Going.
Martha.
(Approaching the body.)
Only a moment.
It is not fit that nature's rude convulsion
Should meet the eye so fearfully. (Composes and covers the body.)
There, rest,
My father, rest. With no irrev'rent hand
(Loosens the scarf from his neck)
I loose this web, this fatal instrument;
But in the sacred hope, that by its clue
Thy murd'rers may be traced. So, fare thee well,
With this one look, the last. If thou did'st love
Nought else of human kind, yet me, at least,
Thou loved'st. So to die! and by such hands!

Nigel.
I would not break upon your griefs, but, time—

Martha.
My moan is made! my sorrow (all, at least,
That man shall ever note in me) is past:
My future thought shall be of justice only.
(Strikes her foot against the leathern case.)
What's here? the case where he was wont to keep
His close and secret papers. Ah! I doubt me
Lest its contents be little fit to meet
The curious and most vulgar eyes of those,
Who must sit here to-morrow. It is heavy.

Nigel.
I'll bear it: would I bore a heart as light!

Martha.
(Giving him the case.)
If wealth might lighten thee, thou shouldst not lack
Alleviation; for this case contains
The key to all he had: bills, bonds, long harvest
Of fourscore years, the bootless portion now
Of his lone daughter. Come, thou lagging day,
Bring back thy light, that I may set about
The work of my revenge; for, if the murderers
Fly to the earth's extreme, I will pursue,
Till I have hunted down, this track of blood!

[Exeunt.