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soon as possible. (Exit Lucy.) Trueman, you
I am sure will not be idle on this occasion. SCENE I.-A Room in THOROWGOOD's
True. He only who is a friend, can judge of my distress.
[Erit. Enter Maria, meeting TQueman.
SCENE II.-MILLWOOD's House.
Enter MilLWOOD. greatest diligence, but all in vain.
Marin. Does my father yet suspect the cause Mil. I wish I knew the event of his design. of his absence ?
The attempt without success would ruin him. True. All appeared so just and fair to him, -Well, what have I to apprehend from thai? it is not possible he ever should. But his al)- I fear too much. The mischief being only insence will no longer be concealed. Your tended, his friends, through pity of his youth, father is wise; and though he seems to hearken turn all their rage on me. I should have to the friendly excuses I would make for Barn- thought of that before. Suppose the deed well, yet I am afraid he regards 'em only as done; then and then only I shall be securesuch, without suffering them to influence his Or what if he returns without attempting it at judgment.
allEnter THOROWGOOD and Lucy.
Enter Barnwell, bloody. Thorow. This woman here has given me a
But he is here, and I have done him wrong. sad, and, bating some circumstances, too pro- His bloody hands show be has done the deed, bable an account of Barnwell's defection. but show he wants the prudence to conceal it. Lucy. I am sorry, Sir, that my frank con
Barn. Where shall I hide me? Whither shall fession of my fornier unhappy course of life ! fly to avoid the swift unerring hand of should cause you to suspect my truth on this justice ? occasion.
Mill. Dismiss your fears; though thousands Thorou. It is not that ; your confession has had pursued you to the door, yet, being enter in it all the appearance of truth. Among ed here, you are as safe as innocence. I have many other particulars, she informs me that a cavern by art so cunningly contrived, that Barnwell has been influenced to break his the piercing eyes of jealousy and revenge may trust, and wrong me, at several times, of con- search in vain, nor find the entrance to the safe siderable sums of money. Now, as I know retreat. There will I hide you, if any danger's this to be false, I would sain doubt the whole near. of her relation, too dreadful to be willingly possible : for while I bear my conscience in
Barn. Oh, hide me—from myself, if it be believed.
Maria. Sir, your pardon; I find myself on a my bosom, though I were bid where man's eye sudden so indisposed that I must retire. Poor, never saw, nor light ere dawned, 'twere all in ruined Barnwell! Wretched, lost Maria !
vain. For, oh, that jonate, that impartial
(Aside ; exit. judge, will try, convict, and sentence me for Thorow. How am I distressed on every side! murder, and execute me with never-ending Pity for that unhappy youth, fear for the life torments. Behold these hands all crimsoned of a much valued friend-and then my child
o'er with my dear uncle's blood. Here's a the only joy and hope of my declining life!- sight to make a statue start with horror, or Her melancholy increases hourly, and gives me turn a living man into a statue ! painful apprehensions of her loss- -Oh, True.
Mill. Ridiculous! Then it seems you are man, this person informs me that your friend, afraid of your own shadow, or, what is less at the instigation of an impious woman, is gone than a shadow, your conscience. to rob and murder his venerable uncle.
Barn. Though to man unknown I did the True. Oh, execrable deed! I'm blasted with accursed act, what can bide me from Heaven's horror at the thought!
all-seeing eye? Lucy. This delay may ruin all.
Mill. No more of this stuff! What advantage Thorow. What to do or think I know not have you made by his death : or what advanThat be ever wronged me I know is false ; the tage may yet be made of it? Did you secure the rest may be so too; there's all my hope.
keys of his treasure, which no doubt were True. Trust not to that; rather suppose all about him? What gold, what jewels, or what true, than lose a moment's time. Even now
else of value bave you brought me ? the horrid deed may be doing_dreadful imagi
Barn. Think you added sacrilege to mur. nation !-or it may be done, and we be vainly der! Oh, had you seen him as his life fowed debating on the means to prevent what is al from him in a crimson food, and heard him ready past.
praying for me by the double name of nephew Thorow. This earnestness convinces me that and of murderer; (alas, alas, he knew not then he knows more than he has yet discovered that his nephew was his murderer!) how would What, ho! without there, who waits ?
you have wished, as I did, though you had a
thousand years of life to come, to have given Enter a Servant.
them all to have lengthened his one hour.
But being dead, I fled the sight of what my Order the groom to saddle the swiftest horse, hands had done; nor could I, to have gained and prepare to set out with speed; an affair of the empire of the world, have violated by theft life and death demands bis diligence. [Exit bis sacred corpse. Serrant.] For you, whose behaviour on this Mill. Whiping, preposterous, canting villain! occasion I have no time to commend as it de- to murder your uncle, rob him of life, nature's serves, I must engage your further assistance. first, last, dear prerogative, after which there's Return, and observe this Millwood till I come. no injury, then fear to take what he no longer I have your directions, and will follow you as wanted, and bring to me your penury and guilt. Do you think I'll hazard my reputa- Mill. What means this insolence? whom do tion, nay my life, to entertain you ?
you seek for ? Barn. Ob, Millwood !-this from thee ?-Bnt Thorow. Millwood !I have done-If you hate me, if you wish me Mill. Well, you have found her then, I am dead, then are you happy; for, oh, 'tis sure Millwood ! my grief will quickly end nie.
Thorow. Then you are the most impious Mill. In this madness he will discover all, wretch that e'er the sun bebeld! and involve me in his ruin. We are on a pre- Mill. From your appearance I should have cipice, from whence there's no retreat for both. expected wisdom and moderation; but your Then to preserve myseif-(Pauses. ]—There is manners belie your aspect. What is your no other way. 'Tis dreadful ; but reflection business here? I know you not. comes too late when danger's pressing, and Thorow. Hereafter you may know me better. there's no room for choice. It inust be done. I am Barnwell's master.
(Aside ; rings a bell. Mill. Then you are master to a villain;
which, I think, is not much to your credit. Enter a SERVANT.
Thorow. Had he been as much above thy Fetch me an officer, and seize this villain. arts, as my credit is superior to thy malice, i He has confessed himself a murderer. Should need not have blushed to own him. I let him escape, I might justly be thought If he has done amiss, what's that to me? was
Mill. My arts! I don't understand you, Sir. as bad as he.
[Exit SERVANT. Barn. Oh, Millwood ! sure you do not, you taught him better,
he my servant, or yours ? you should have cannot mean it. Siop the messenger; upon my knees, I beg you'd call him back. Tis
Thorow. Why should I wonder to find such fit I die, indeed, but not by you. I will this uncommon impudence in one arrived to such a instant throw myself into the hands of justice, height of wickedness? know, sorceress, I'm indeed I will ; for death is all I wish. But not ignorant of any of the arts, by which you thy ingratitude so tears my wounded svul, 'tis first deceived the unwary youth. I know how, worse ten thousand times than death with step by step, you've led him on, reluctant and torture.
unwilling, from crime to crime, to this last Mill. Call it what you will; I am willing to cursed wiles even forced him to commit.
horrid act, which you contrived, and by your live, and live secure, which nothing but your death can warrant.
Mill. Ha! Lucy has got the advantage, and Barn. If there be a pitch of wickedness that accused me first. Unless 1 can turn the accusets the author beyond the reach of vengeance, I sation, and fix it upon her and Blunt, I am
Aside. you must be secure. But what remains for me, but a disinal dungeon, bard galling fetters,
Thorow. Had I known your cruel design an awful trial, and an' ignominious death, sooner, it had been prevented. To see you justly to fall, unpitied and abhorred? This i punished, as the law directs, is all that now could bear, nay wish not to avoid, had it but remains. Poor satisfaction! For he, innocent come from any hand but thine.
as he is, compared to you, must suffer too.
Mill. I find, Sir, we are both unhappy in Enter Blunt, Officer, and Attendants. our servants. I was surprised at such ill Mill. Heaven defend me! conceal a mur
treatment without cause, from a gentleman of derer! here, Sir, take this youth into your returned it, for which I ask your pardon.
your appearance, and therefore too hastily custody, I accuse him of murder, and will
now perceive you have been so far imposed on, appear to make good my charge.
They seize him: Idence with your servant, and some way or
as to think me engaged in a former corresponBarn. To whom, of what, or how, shall other accessary to his undoing. I complain? I'll not accuse her. The hand of Heaven is in it, and this the punishment of cause, of all his guilt, and all his suffering, of
Thorow, I charge you as the cause, the sole lust and parricide.
all he now endures, and must endure, till a Be warn'd, ye youths, who see my sad despair; violent and shameful death shall pnt a Aroid lewd women, false as they are fuir. dreadful period to his life and miseries toBy my example, learn to shun my fute,
gether. (How wretched' is the man who's wise too late!) Mill. 'Tis very strange! But who's secure Ere innocence, and fume, and life, be lost, from scandal and detraction ? So far from conHere purchasé wisdom cicaply at my cost. tributing to his ruin, I never spoke to him till
(Exeunt BARNWELL, Officer, and At- since this fatal accident, which I lament as tendants.
much as you. 'Tis true I have a servant, on Mill. Where's Lucy? why is she absent at whose account he hath of late frequented my such a time?
house. If she has abused my good opinion of Blunt. Would I had been so too! Lucy will her, am I to blame? Has not Barnwell done soon be here; and I hope to thy confusion, the same by you? thou devil!
Thorow. I hear you. Pray go on. Mill, Insolent! this to me!
Mill. I have been informed he had a violent Blunt. The worst that we know of the devil passion for her, and she for him; but till now is, that he first seduces to sin, and betrays to I always thougbt it innocent. I know her punishment.
[Exit Blunt. poor, and given to expensive pleasures. Now, Mill. They disapprove of my conduct then. who can tell but she may have influenced the My ruin is resolved. I see my danger, but amorous youth to commit this murder, to supscorn both it and them. I was not born to fall ply her extravagancies—It must be so. I by such weak instruments.
[Going. now recollect a thousand circumstances that
confirm it. I'll have her, and a man-servant Enter THOROWGOOD.
whom I suspect as an accomplice, secured Thorow. Where is the scandal of her own immediately.
(Offers to go. sex, and curse of ours ?
Thorow. Madam, you pass not this way.
see your design, but shall protect them from laws of which you make your boast, but the your malice.
fool's wisdom, and the coward's valour, the Mill. I hope you will not use your influence, instrument and screen of all your villanies ? and the credit of your name, to screen such By them you punish in others what you act guilty wretches. Consider, Sir, the wicked- yourselves, or would have acted, had you ness of persuading a thoughtless youth to such been in their circumstances. The judge, who a crime!
condemns the poor man for being a thief,
had Trorow. I do—and of betraying him when been a thief himself had he been poor.–Thus it was done.
you go on deceiving and deceived, harassing, Mill. That which you call betraying him, plaguing, and destroying one another. But may convince you of my innocence. She whó women are your universal prey: loves him, though she contrived the murder, Women, by whom you are, the source of joy, would never have delivered him into the hands With cruel arts you labour to destroy : of justice, as I, struck with horror at his A thousand ways our ruin you pursue, crimes, have done,
Yet llame in us those arts first taught by you. Thorow. How should an unexperienced On, may from hence cach violated maid, youth escape her snares? Even 1, that with By flattering, faithless, barbarous man betray'd, just prejudice came prepared, had by her art. When robb'd' of innocence and rirgin fame, ful story been deceived, but that my strong from your destruction raise a nobler name ; conviction of her guilt makes even a doubt T arenge their sex's wrongs derote their mind, impossible. [Aside. Those whom subtilly you And future Millwovd's prore, to plague mankind. would accuse, you know are your accusers;
[Exeunt. and, which proves unanswerably their innocence and your guilt, they accused you before
ACT V. the deed was done, and did all that was in their power to prevent it.
SCENE 1.-A Dungeon. A table, and a lamp. Mill. Sir, you are very hard to be con
BARNWELL reading. vinced; but I have a proof, which, when produced, will silence ali objectiop.
Enter THOROWGOOD, at a distance.
(Exit MILLWOOD. Thorow. There see the bitter fruits of pasEnter Lucy, TruEMAN, Blunt, Officers, &c. dulged: severe reiections, penitence, and
sion's detested reign, and sensual appetite in. Lucy. Gentlemen, pray place yourselves, tears. some on one side of that door, and some on the Burn. My honoured, injured master, whose other; watch her entrance, and act as your goodness has covered me a thousand times prudence shall direct you. This way; [To with shame, forgive this last unwilling disTHOROW GOOD) and note her behaviour; I have respect. Indeed I saw you not. observed her; she's driven to the last ex- Thorow. 'Tis well; I hope you are better tremity, and is forming some desperate resolu- employed in viewing of yourself; your jour. tion. I guess at her design.
ney's long, your time for preparation almost
spent. I sent a reverend divine to teach yon Re-enter Millwood with a pistol, TrueMAN to improve it, and should be glad to hear of secures her,
his success. True. Here thy power of doing mischief Barn. The word of truth, which he recomends, deceitful, cruel, bloody woman! mended for my constant companion in this my
Mill. Fool, hypocrite, villain, man! Thou sad retirement, has at length removed the canst not call me that.
doubts 1 laboured under. From thence I have True. To call thee woman were to wrong learned the infinite extent of heavenly mercy, thy sex, thou devil.
How shall I describe my present state of Mill. That imaginary being is an emblem of mind? I hope in doubt, and trembling I rethy cursed sex collected. A mirror, wherein joice; ! feel my grief increase, even as my each particular man may see his own likeness, fears give way. Joy and gratitude now supand that of all mankind.
ply more tears than the horror and anguish of Thorow. Think not, by aggravating the faults despair before. of others, to extenuate thy own, of which the Thorow. These are the genuine signs of true abuse of such uncommon perfections of mind repentance; the only preparatory, the certain and body is not the least.
way to everlasting peace. Mill. If such I had, well may I curse your Barn. What do I owe for all your generous barbarous sex, who robbed me of 'em ere I kindness ? But though I cannot, Heaven can knew their worth ; then left me, too late, to and will reward you. count their value by their loss.-Another, and Thorow. To see thee thus, is joy too great another spoiler came, and all my gain was for words. Farewell.—Heaven strengthen poverty and reproach. My soul disdained, thee !-Farewell. and yet disdains, dependence and contempt. Burn. Oh, Sir, there's something I would Riches, no matter by what means obtained, I say, if my sad swelling heart would give me saw secured the worst of men from both; I leave. found it therefore necessary to be rich, and to Thorow. Give it vent awhile, and try. that end I summoned all my arts. You call Barn. I had a friend-'tis true I am us'em wicked ; be it so; they were such as my worthy_yet methinks your generous examconversation with your sex had furnished me ple might persuade. Could I not see him withal.
once, before I go from whence there's no Thorow. Sure none but the worst of men return? conversed with thee!
Thorow. He's coming, and as much thy Mill. Men of all degrees, and all professions, friend as ever. I will not anticipate his sor. I have known, yet
found no difference, but in row; too soon he'll see the sad effects of this their several capacities; all were alike, wicked contagious ruin. This torrent of domestic to the utmost of their power.
What are your misery bears too hard upon me. I must retire, to indulge a weakness I find impossi
Enter KEEPER. ble to overcome. (Aside.] Much loved-and much lamented youth !- Farewell.Heaven
True. I come. strengthen thee!- -Eternally farewell.
[Exit KEEPER. Barn. The best of masters, and of men
Barn. Must you leave me? Death would Farewell. While I live let me not want your
soon have parted us for ever.
True. Oh, my Barnwell, there's yet another prayers. Thorow. Thou shalt not. Thy peace being for others' woes.
task behind. 'Again your heart must bleed made with Heaven, death is already van- Barn. To meet and part with you, I thought quished. Bear a little longer the pains that attend this transitory life, and cease from pain more for me to do or suffer?
was all I had to do on earth. What is there for ever.
[Exit. Barn. Perhaps I shall. I find a power known! Maria
True. I dread to tell thee, yet it must be within, that bears my soul above the fears of
Barn. Our master's fair and virtuous daughdeath, and, spite of conscious shame and
ter? guilt, gives me a taste of pleasure more than
True. The same. mortal.
Bern. No misfortune, I hope, has reached
that maid ! Preserve hér, Heaven, from every Enter TRUEMAN.
ill, to show mankind that goodness is your
care! Barn. Trueman !—My friend, whom I so wished to see ; yet, now he's here, I dare not friend, have reached her ear.
True. Thy, thy misfortunes, my unhappy
Whatever you look upon him.
[Weeps. and I have felt, and
more, if more be possible, True. Oh, Barnwell, Barnwell!
she feels for you. Barn. Mercy! mercy! gracious Heaven! For death, but not for this, was I pre
Barn. This is indeed the bitterness of death.
(Aside. pared. True. What have I suffered since I saw thee served it) for some time past, a heavy melan
True. You must remember (for we all oblast! What pain has absence given me !--Butcholy weighed her down. Disconsolate she oh, to see thee thus !
Barn. I know it is dreadful! I feel the seemed, and pined and langu ished from a anguish of thy generous soul— But I was born fate, the long stifled flame blazed out, and in
cause unknown; till, hearing of your dreadful to murder all who love me.
(Both weep: the transport of her grief discovered her own True. I come not to reproach you; I thought lost state, while she lamented yours. to bring you comfort. Oh, had you trusted me when first the fair seducer tempted you, die, and never know it?
Barn. (Weeping.) Why did you not let me all might have been prevented.
True. It was impossible. She makes no Barn. Alas, thou knowest not what a wretch I've been. Breach of friendship was my first mined to see you ere you die, and waits for me
secret of her passion for you; she is deterand least offence. So far was I lost to good to introduce her.
[Exit. ness, so devoted to the author of my ruin, that had she insisted on my murdering thee-I avails it to think on what I might have been?
Barn. Vain, busy thoughts, be still! What think--I should have done it.
I am now what I've made myself. True. Pr’ythee, aggravate thy faults no
Re-enter TRUEMAN, with Maria. Barn. I think I should! Thus good and generous as you are, I should have murdered True. Madam, reluctant I lead you to this you !
dismal scene. This is the seat of misery and True. We have not yet embraced, and may guilt. Here awful justice reserves her public be interrupted. Come to my arms.
victims. This is the entrance to a shameful Barn. Never, never, will I taste such joys death. on earth ; never will I sooth my just remorse. Maria. To this sad place then, no improper Are those honest arms and faithful bosom fit guest, the abandoned and lost Maria brings to embrace and support a murderer? These despair, and sees the subject and the cause of iron fetters only shall clasp, and flinty pave- all this world of wo. Silent and motionless ment bear me ; [Throuing himself on the he stands, as if his soul had quitted her abode, ground.] even these are too good for such a and the lifeless form alone was left behind. bloody monster.
Barn. I groan, but murmur not. Just True. Shall fortune sever those whom friend- Heaven! I am your own; do with me what ship joined ? Thy miseries cannot lay thee so you please. low, but love will find thee. Here will we Maria. Why are your streaming eyes still offer to stern calamity; this place the altar, fixed below, as though thou'dst give the and ourselves the sacrifice. Our mutual groans greedy earth thy sorrows, and rob me of my shall echo to each other through the dreary due? Were happiness within your power, vault; our sighs shall number the moments as you should bestow it where you pleased; but they pass; and mingling tears communicate in your misery I must and will partake. such anguish, as words were never made to Barn. Oh, say not so; but fly, abhor, and express.
leave me to my fate. Consider what you are. Barn. Then be it so. [Rising.) Since you So shall I quickly be to you-as though I had propose an intercourse of wo, pour all your never been. griefs into my breast, and in exchange take Maria. When I forget you, I must be so inmine. (Embracing.) Where's now the anguish deed. Reason, choice, virtue, all for bid it. that you promised ? Oh, take, take some of Let women, like Millwood, if there are more the joy that overflows my breast !
such women, smile in prosperity, and in True. I do, I do. Almighty Power ! how adversity forsake. Be it the pride of virtue to bast thou made us capable to bear at once the repair, or to partake, the ruin such have made. extremes of pleasure and of pain !
True. Lovely, ill-fated maid !
Maria. Yes, fruitless is my love, and unavail. | for the peace of my departing soul! Early my ing all my sighs and tears. Can they save race of wickedness began, and soon I reached thee from approaching death ? - from such a the summit. Thus justice, in compassion to death ?-Oh, sorrow insupportable!
mankind, cuts off a wretch like me; by one Barn. Preserve her, Heaven, and restore such example to secure thousands from future her peace, nor let her death be added to my ruin. crimes !-Bell Tolls.] l'm suminoned to my If any youth, like you, in future times fate.
Shall mourn my fate, though he al hors my crimes ; Re-enter KEEPER.
Or tender muid, like you, my tale shall hear, Keep. Sir, the officers attend you. Mill. To each such melting dye ani throbbing heart
my sorrows gire a pitying tear; wood is already summoned. Barn. Tell'em l'm ready. Exit KEEPER.] Nerer to know
my guilt, nor feel my pain,
Would gracious Hearen this benefit impart: And now, my friend, farewell. [Embrucing:!| Then must you own you ought not to complain, Support and comfort, the best you can, this Since you nor weep, nor 1 's all die, in rain. mourning fair. No more--Forget not to pray for me.-[Turning to MARIA. Would you,
[Exit BARSWELL. bright excellence, permit me the honour of a
True. In vain chaste embrace, the last happiness this world with bleeding hearts, and weeping eyes, we shou could give were mine,- She inclines towards A humane, gen'rous sense of others' tro, him; they eml. race.}-Exalted goodness! Oh, Unless we mark what drew their ruin en, turn your eyes from earth and ine to Heaven, And, ly aroiding that, prerent our ouen. where virtue like yours is ever heard. Pray
(The curtain descends to slow music,