SCENE II-A Chamber.

Enter ARDEN in his Night-gown.

Ard. Unhappy Arden, whither canst thou wander

To lay thy heavy load of sorrows down!
Will change of place relieve the afflicted mind,
Or does all nature yield a balin to cure
The pangs of slighted love and broken faith?
Ungrateful false Alicia! false with Mosby,
The vile dependent of my foe professed,
Lord Clifford's full-fed flatterer! O damned!
Come, Franklin, come: Arden, thy friend, invites
thee;

And let me pour my griefs into thy bosom,
And find in friendship what I've lost in love.

Alic. What maid, that knows man's variable nature,

Would sell her free estate for marriage bonds?
From vows and oaths, and every servile tye,
The tyrant man at pleasure is set free;
The holy nuptial bond leaves him at large;
Yet vests him with a power, that makes us slaves.
'Tis heavenly this—

Ard. To stop my just reproach,

Art thou the first to tax the marriage state?

Alic. Are you not jealous? do you not give ear To vain surmises and malicious tongues, That hourly wound my yet untainted fame? Ard. And wouldst thou make me author of the shame,

Thy guilt has brought on us!-I'll bear no longer. The traitor Mosby, cursed, detested Mosby, Shall render an account for both your crimes. Alic. What do I hear!

Ard. The base mechanic slave Shall auswer with his blood.

Alic. O hear me speak!

[Aside.

Shall make me shed thy blood.
Alic. I do not hope it.

Ard. For me, be as immortal as thy shame.
Alic. I see your cruel purpose: I must live,
To see your hand and honour stained with blood,
Your ample fortune seized on by the state,
Your life a forfeit to the cruel laws.

O Arden, blend compassion with your rage,
And kindly kill me first!

Ard. Not for my sake

Are all thy tears; then had you felt them sooner Plead not the ruin you have made; but say, Why have you driven me to these extremes? Why sacrificed my peace, and your own fame, By corresponding with a menial slave?

Alic. Thou canst not think, that I have wronged thy bed?

Ard. Would I could not!
Alic. By Heaven-
Ard. No perjuries.

But now, as you lay slumbering by my side,
I still awake, anxious and full of thought,
(For thou hast banished sleep from these sad eyes
With gentle accents, thrilling with desire,
You called on Mosby. Love made me doubt my

ears,

And question, if the dark and silent night
Conspired not with my fancy to deceive me :
But soon I lost the painful pleasing hope;
Again you called upon your minion Mosby.
Confirmed, I strove to fly your tainted bed,
But, wanting strength, sunk lifeless on my pillow
You threw your eager arms about my neck,
You pressed my bloodless cheeks with your warm
lips,

Which glowed, adultress! with infernal heat;
And called, a third time, on the villain Mosby.

Alic. A dream indeed, if I e'er called on him. Ard. Thy guilty dreams betray thy waking thoughts.

Alic. I know I'm simple, thoughtless, and ur guarded;

And what is carelessness you construe guilt.
Yet were I weak as those fantastic visions,
Sure I could never have condemned you, Arder,
On circumstances and an idle dream.

Ard. But such a dream!—
Alic. Yet was it but a dream,
Which, though I not remember, I abhor,
And mourn with tears, because it gives you pain
Arden, you do not wish me innocent,
Or on suspicions could you doom me guilty?
Ard. Not wish thee innocent? do sinking ma

Alic. That always was your own.

Ard. Thou flatterer-then whence this cruel strife?

Still art thou cold; nor warm are thy embraces,
Nor sparkle in thine eyes the fires of love:
Cold, cold, and comfortless.

Alic. Indeed you fright me.

Ard. 'Tis possible

Alic. What?

Ard. That thou may'st yet deceive me.
Alic. O! I am wretched!

Ard. Both perhaps are so.

But, if thou ever loved'st, thou'lt not despise me,
And wilt forgive me, if indeed I've wronged thee,
As I've forgiven thee-Pity, I'm sure, I need.
[Erit ARD.

Alic. Thou hast it, Arden, even from her, that wrongs thee.

All, all shall pity thee, and curse Alicia.

Can I feel this, and further tempt the stream
Of guilty love! O whither am I fallen!

Enter MARIA.

fate.

The evil hour, long feared, is fallen upon us,
And we shall sink beneath it. Do not frown-
If you're unkind, to whom shall I complain?
Mos. Madam, it was my sister I expected.
Alic. Am I forgotten then? Ungrateful man!
This only could have added to my woes.
Did you but know what I have borne for you,
You would not thus unmoved behold my tears.
Mos. Madam, you make me vain.
Alic. Insult not, Mosby':

You were the first dear object of my love;
And could my heart have made a second choice,
I had not been the object of your scorn:
But duty, gratitude, the love of fame,
And pride of virtue, were too weak to erase
The deep impression of our early vows.

Mos. Therefore you kindly chose to wed ano

ther.

Alic. Reproach me not with what I deemed my duty.

Oh! had I thought I could assume the name,
And never know the affection of a wife,

I would have died ere given my hand to Arden.
Mos. You gave him all-

Alic. No, no, I gave him nothing:

Words without truth-an hand without a heart!

At length hath roused himself.

Mos. And I must fall

The victim

Alic. No; he knows not yet his wrongs,
Mos. But quickly will.

Alic. That, that's my greatest fear.

Mos. Then, branded with a strumpet's hated

name,

The cause abhorred of shame, of blood, and ruin,
Thou'lt be exposed, and hooted through the world.
Alic. O hide the dreadful image from my view!
Chaste matrons, modest maids, and virtuous
wives,

Scorning a weakness which they never knew,
Shall blush, with indignation, at my name!

Mos. My death-but that, though certain---
Alic. Labour not

To drive me to despair. Fain would I hope---
Mos. You may, and be deceived. For me, I

know

My fate resolved-and thee the instrument, The willing instrument of Mosby's ruin! Inconstant, false Alicia!

Alic. False indeed,

But not to thee, cruel injurious Mosby !

His father long enjoyed

Ard. For my estate,

dangers,

And Arden dies! My husband dies for Mosby ! [Shrieks and runs to MOSBY.

Enter ARDEN and FRANKLIN.

He's here! O save me! tell me, did he hear?
Ard. [Starting.] Franklin, support your friend!
I shake with horror!

Frank. What moves you thus?
Ard. See!-Mosby with my wife!

Mos. But, madam, I shall spare your farther trouble;

In happy time behold my neighbour here!
[As taking leave of ALICIA.
Alic. Mischief and wild confusion have begun,
And desolation waits to close the scene!

And sacred honour of a gentleman,) I shall assert myself, and thus secure From further violation.

Mos. Her known virtue Renders the injury, your fancy forms, A thing of air.

[Draws.

Frank. Impossible to thought! Whence, Arden, comes this sudden madness on thee,

That your Alicia, ever dear esteemed,
And deeply loved-

Ard. Out on the vile adultress!
But thou, demure, insinuating slave,
Shalt taste my vengeance first. Defend thyself!
Mos. I scorn to take advantage of your rage.
Ard. A coward too! O my consummate shame!
Mos. This I can bear from you.

Ard. Or any man!

Why hangs that useless weapon by thy side, Thou shame to manhood? Draw! Will nothing move thee! [Strikes him.

Frank. Hold! Whither would your mad revenge transport you?

Ard. Shall shameful cowardice protect a villain?

Mos. You chuse a proper place to shew your courage!

Ard. Go on. I'll follow to the ocean's brink, Or to the edge of some dread precipice, Where terror and despair shall stop thy flight, And force thy trembling hand to guard thy life. Mos. What I endure to save a lady's honour! [To FRANK. Frank. Your longer stay will but incense him

SCENE I.-The Street.

Enter GREEN and MOSBY.

Green. You pity me, and know not my estate. I'm ruined, Mosby; thoughtless, and ill-advised, My riotous youth will leave my age a beggar. These abbey-lands were all the hopes I'd left; My whole support.

Mos. Base and ungenerous Arden, To force a man, born equal to himself, To beg, or starve!

Green. By Heaven, I will do neither : I'll let the proud oppressor know

Mos. How blind is rage!

Who threats his enemy, lends him a sword
To guard himself.

Green. Robbed of the means of life,
What's life itself?-an useless load, a curse,
Which yet I'll dearly sell to my revenge!

Mos. You mean to kill him, then?
Green. I do, by Heaven!

Mos. Suppose you fail?

Green. I can but lose my life.

The foremost of the two I knew at Boulogne, Where, in the late king's reign, I served myself. He was a corporal then; but such a villainBeneath a soldier's name; a common cut-throat, That preys on all mankind, and knows no party. Mos. An horrid character you give him, Bradshaw.

Brad. No worse than he deserves.

Mos. [Aside.] An useful hint:

He shall not want employment.-What's his name?

Brad. Black Will. His family-name I never

heard.

secure,

Riots, unbounded, in his ill-got wealth?

Green. What can I do?

Mos. 'Tis plain you wish him dead.

Green. Each moment of his life is to my soul A tedious age of pain; for while he lives, Contempt, and all the ills a lazar knows, Must be my wretched lot, and lengthen out The miserable hours. What grovelling wretch Would wish to hold his life on such conditions?

Mos. But change the scene: suppose but
Arden dead,

Your land restored, and fortune in your power;
Honour, respect, and all the dear delights,
That wait on wealth, shall wing the joyful hours,
And life contracted seem one happy day.
I hate this Arden, and have stronger motives
Than any you can urge to wish his death.
He has accused, insulted, struck me!
Nay, his fair virtuous wife, on my account→→→→
Green. If fame speaks true, you are to be en-
vied there.

Mos. The world will talk; but be that as it

She will be glad to shift the deed on them.
Green. I am instructed.

Enter BLACK WILL and SHAKEBAG.

B. Will. What! comrade Bradshaw! How fare you, man? S'blood! dost not remember honest Black Will? Why, thou art grown purseproud sure.

Brad, Why, you're not easily forgotten, Will. But, prithee, what brings thee to Feversham?

B. Will. A soldier, you know, is at home wherever he comes. Omne sotum forti patria! There's Latin-Give's a tester.

Brad. In time of peace, we should apply to some honest creditable business, and not turn the name of soldier into vagabond.

B. Will. Yes, as you have done. I'm told you keep a goldsmith's shop here in Feversham, and, like a mechanical rogue, live by cheating. I have more honour.

Brad. Would thou hadst honesty.

B. Will. Where do our honesties differ? I take a purse behind a hedge, and you behind a

counter..

Brad. Insolent slave!

B. Will. You cent. per cent. rascal! I may find a time to teach you better manners. Brad. Go, mend thy own.

B. Will. Thou wert always a sneaking fellow, Bradshaw, and couldst never swear, nor get drunk. Come, shall I and my comrade Shakebag taste your ale?

Brad. My house entertains no such guestsFarewell, gentlemen.

Mos. Along with Bradshaw,

7

And leave the management of these to me. [dside to GREEN. Green. It shall be done.-Bradshaw, a word with thee.

Brad. Your pardon, gentlemen.

[Exeunt GREEN and BRAD. B. Will. He was a cadet in the last French war, like other soldiers, then; but now he has got a nest, and feathered it a little, he pretends to reputation. S'blood! had this been a fit place, he had not escaped me so. You have surveyed us well. [To Mos.] How do you like us? Mos. Methinks I read truth, prudence, secrecy,

And courage, writ upon your manly brows.

B. Will. What hellish villainy has this fellow in hand, that makes him fawn upon us? [Aside. Mos. I fear the world's a stranger to your merit.

If this may recommend me to your friendship— [Gives a purse. B. Will. Of what damned deed is this to be the wages?

Shake. Hast ever an elder brother's throat to cut?

B. Will. Or an old peevish father to be buried? Mos. Neither of these.

Shake. A rival then, mayhap

Mos. There you come nearer to me.
Shake. Then speak out;

We're honest, sir.

B. Will. Trusty, and very poor.

Mos. Metal too fit for me. [Aside.] Then hear me, sirs.

But you must both, ere I disclose my purpose,
Promise, and bind that promise by your oaths,
Never-[They both laugh.] Why this unseason-
able mirth?

B. Will. You'd have us swear?
Mos. Else why did I propose it?

B. Will. There's the jest. Are men, who act in despite of all law, honour, and conscience; who live by blood (as it is plain you think we do) are we free-thinkers, like silly wenches and canting priests, to be confined by oaths?

Shuke. Would you bind us, let the price equal the purchase, and we'll go to hell for you with pleasure.

Mos. Horrid! they shake even me, who would
employ them.
[Aside.

I apprehend--The business then is this:
In Feversham there lives a man, called Arden;
In general esteem, and ample means;
And has a wife, the very pride of nature.
I have been happy long in her affections,
And, he once dead, might with her share his for-

tunes.

He's jealous too of late, and threatens me.
Love, interest, self-defence, all ask his death.
B. Will. This man you'd have dispatched?
Mos. I would.

B. Will. Rich, say you?
Mos. Immensely so.

B. Will. And much beloved?
Mos. By all degrees of men.

B. Will. George! this will be a dangerous piece of work.

Shake. Damned dangerous. A man so known; and his reputation too.

B. Will. And then the power and number of his friends must be considered.

Mos. What! does your courage shrink already, sirs?

Shake. No.

B. Will. This is ever the curse of your men of true valour; to be the tools of crafty cowardly knaves, who have not the heart to execute what their heads have projected. It is a damned ungrateful world-What money have you more about you?

Mos. Ten pieces.

B. Will. I've had as much for stealing a dog. Mos. I give you that as a retaining fee: When the deed's done, each shall have twice that sum,

And a good horse to further his escape.

B. Will. Sir, will you have him murdered in a church?

Shake. Or on the altar; say the word, and it shall be done.

Mos. Some safer place, the street, highway, or fields,

Will serve my turn as well.

Shake. Just as you please.

Mos. Where may I find you, gentlemen?

B. Will. At Adam Fowl's, the Flower-de-luce.
Mos. I have confederates in this design;

When we have contrived the manner of his death,
I'll send you word.

B. Will. You'll find us always ready.
Mos. And determined?
B. Will. Ay, fear it not.

Farewell.
[Exeunt several ways.

SCENE III-A Room in ARDEN'S House.

Enter ALICIA, with a Letter. Alic. He doubts me; yet he dares not tell

me so,