tion.

One day hear me one day I lost. Your mother had just come to occupy this hotel which I had prepared for her; already the story, adroitly spread, had given our neighbors the idea that I was rich. Well, I lost. Must I, then, always be the fool of fortune? I had felt the pangs of poverty; I had seen her suffer whom I loved; I had seen two children, thy brothers, pushed by misery into the tomb; friends, society, rank, all had then disappeared. And must there now be a repetition of all these woes? No, no! cried I; it must not be. It is too much. I can no longer be a loser; and a loser I was no longer!

George. Ah! the fatal, fatal step! But, come! We must retrace it. You will make restitution of all you have won unfairly; you will do it, my father?

M. de F. Ay, call me father, and do with me what you will. George. It is bravely said. Come on! Know'st thou where

I shall guide thee? Back, back to poverty and honor, my father!

Enter first SIR E., Left; then WILFORD, Right.

Sir Edward. Wilford, is no one in the picture-gallery? Wilford. No not a soul, sir not a human soul; None within hearing, if I were to bawl

Ever so loud.

Sir E. Wilford, approach me.

For aiming at your life?

Despise me for it?

Wil. I!-0, sir.

Sir E. You must;

What am I to say

Do you not scorn me,

For I am singled from the herd of men,

A vile, heart-broken wretch!

Wil. Indeed, indeed, sir,

You deeply wrong yourself.

Your equal's love,

The poor man's prayer, the orphan's tear of gratitude,

All follow you; and I-I owe you all,

I am most bound to bless you!

Sir E. Mark me, Wilford.

I know the value of the orphan's tear,

The poor man's prayer, respect from the respected;

I feel to merit these, and to obtain them,

SIR EDWARD MORTIMER AND WILFORD. 205

Is to taste here below that thrilling cordial,
Which the remunerating angel draws
From the eternal fountain of delight,

To pour on blessed souls that enter heaven.
I feel this I! How must my nature, then,
Revolt at him who seeks to stain his hand
In human blood! And yet, it seems, this day
I sought your life. O, I have suffered madness!
None know my tortures

pangs; but I can end them, — End them as far as appertains to thee.

I have resolved it fearful struggles tear me;
But I have pondered on 't, and I must trust thee.
Wil. Your confidence shall not be—

Sir E. You must swear.

Wil. Swear, sir!

Will nothing but an oath, then

Sir E. No retreating.

Wil. (After a pause.) I swear, by all the ties that bind a man, Divine or human, never to divulge!

Sir E. Remember, you have sought this secret,
Extorted it. I have not thrust it on you.

'Tis big with danger to you; and to me,
While I prepare to speak, torment unutterable.
Know, Wilford, that

Wil. Dearest sir,

Collect yourself; this shakes you horribly. -
You had this trembling, it is scarce a week,
At Madam Helen's.

Sir E. There it is. Her uncle-
Wil. Her uncle!

none know it:

Sir E. Him- she knows it not, You are the first ordained to hear me say, his murderer!

I am

Wil. O, heaven!

yes,

Sir E. Honor-thou blood-stained god! at whose red altar Sit war and homicide, O! to what madness

Will insult drive thy votaries! Heaven bear witness!
In the world's range there does not breathe a man,

Whose brutal nature I more strove to soothe,

With long forbearance, kindness, courtesy,

Than his who fell by me. But he disgraced me,

Stained me! O, death and shame! the world looked on
And saw this sinewy savage strike me down;

Rain blows upon me, drag me to and fro
On the base earth, like carrion.

Desperation,

In every fiber of my frame, cried Vengeance!
I left the room which he had quitted. Chance
(Curse on the chance!), while boiling with my wrongs,
Thrust me against him, darkling, in the street.
I stabbed him to the heart; and my oppressor
Rolled lifeless at my foot! (Crosses to R.)
Wil. (L.) O, mercy on me!
How could this deed be covered?

Sir E. Would you think it?

E'en at the moment when I gave the blow,
Butchered a fellow-creature in the dark,
I had all good men's love. But my disgrace,
And my opponent's death thus linked with it,
Demanded notice of the magistracy.

They summoned me, as friend would summon friend,
To acts of import and communication.

We met; and 'twas resolved, to stifle rumor,

To put me on my trial. No accuser,

No evidence appeared, to urge it on ;

'Twas meant to clear my fame. How clear it, then?
How cover it? you say.- Why, by a lie,
Guilt's offspring and its guard! I taught this breast,
Which truth once made her throne, to forge a lie, -
This tongue to utter it; rounded a tale,
Smooth as a seraph's song from Satan's mouth;
So well compacted, that the o'er-thronged court
Disturbed cool justice in her judgment-seat,
By shouting " Innocence! " ere I had finished.
The court enlarged me; and the giddy rabble
Bore me in triumph home. Ay, look upon me!

I know thy sight aches at me.
Wil. Heaven forgive you!

It may be wrong: indeed, I pity you.
Sir E. I disdain all pity.

I ask no consolation! Idle boy!

Thinkst thou that this compulsive confidence
Was given to move thy pity? Love of fame
(For still I cling to it) has urged me thus
To quash the curious mischief in its birth;
Hurt honor, in an evil, cursed hour,

Drove me to murder, lying; —'t would again!
My honesty-sweet peace of mind

all, all

SIR EDWARD MORTIMER AND WILFORD. 207

Are bartered for a name. I will maintain it!
Should slander whisper o'er my sepulcher,
And my soul's agency survive in death,
I could embody it with heaven's lightning,
And the hot shaft of my insulted spirit
Should strike the blaster of my memory

Dead in the church-yard Boy, I would not kill thee:
Thy rashness and discernment threatened danger;

To check them, there was no way left but this,

Save one

You shall not be your death.

Wil. My death!

This empty honor!

What! take

my victim.

life my

(Crosses to L.)

child of

your bounty,

Sir E. Empty! - Groveling fool!
Wil. (R.) I am your servant, sir,
And know my obligation. I have been
Too curious haply.- 'Tis the fault of youth;
I ne'er meant injury. If it would serve you,
I would lay down my life I'd give it freely.
Could you, then, have the heart to rob me of it?
You could not· should not.

Sir E. How!

Wil. You dare not.

Sir E. Dare not!

-

Passion moved you;

Wil. Some hours ago you durst not.
Reflection interposed, and held your arm.
But, should reflection prompt you to attempt it,
My innocence would give me strength to struggle,
And wrest the murderous weapon from your hand.
How would you look to find a peasant boy
Return the knife you leveled at his heart,

And ask you which in heaven would show the best,
A rich man's honor, or a poor man's honesty?

Sir E. Tis plain I dare not take your life. To spare it,

I have endangered mine.
You know not its extent.
Trifle not with my feelings.

But dread my power:

Be warned in time;

Listen, sir:
Myriads of engines, which my secret working
Can rouse to action, now encircle you.
Your ruin hangs upon a thread; provoke me,
And it shall fall upon you. Dare to make
The slightest movement to awake
my fears,
And the gaunt criminal, naked and stake-tied,
Left on the heath to blister in the sun,
Till lingering death shall end his agony,

Compared to thee, shall seem more enviable
Than cherubs to the cursed!

Wil. O, misery!

Discard me, sir; I must be hateful to you.
Banish me hence I will be mute as death;
But let me quit your service.

Sir E. Never! Fool!

To buy this secret, you have sold yourself,
Your movements, eyes, and most of all your breath,
From this time forth, are fettered to my will.

COLMAN.

VIII. HOTSPUR.

Enter KING HENRY, L., followed by HOTSPUR.

K. Henry. Why, yet you do deny your prisoners,
Unless at our own charge we ransom straight
Your brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer!
No; on the barren mountains let him starve!
For I shall never hold that man my friend,
Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost
To ransom home revolted Mortimer.

Hotspur. Revolted Mortimer!

He never did fall off, my sovereign liege,
But by the chance of war.

Then let him not be slandered with revolt.

K. Hen. Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou dost belie him. Art thou not ashamed? But, sirrah, henceforth

Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer.

Send me your prisoners with the speediest means, you shall hear in such a kind from me

Or

As will displease you.

(Exit KING HENRY, R.}

Hot. (R.) And if the devil come and roar for them,

I will not send them. I will after straight,

And tell him so; for I will ease my heart,

Although it be with hazard of my head.

Enter WORCESTER, L.

Worcester. What! drunk with choler?
Hot. Speak of Mortimer?

Zounds, I will speak of him; and let my soul
Want mercy, if I do not join with him!
In his behalf, I'll empty all these veins,

And shed my dear blood drop by drop in the dust,