To spread her charms for ever in his eye:
To her are all my visits. But-Alicia-
She must, she shall comply: when to my arms
Her honour she resign'd, her fond reluctance
whisper'd,

She could deny me nothing. [Exit into ARDEN's.

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 th' afflicted mind;
Or does all nature yield a balm to cure
The pangs of slighted love and broken faith?
Ungrateful, false Alicia! false with Mosby,
The vile dependent of my foe profess'd,
Lord Clifford's full-fed flatterer!—
Come, Franklin, come: Arden, thy friend, in-
vites thee;

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

Alic. Why, Arden, do you leave your bed thus early?

Have cold and darkness greater charms than I? There was a time when winter nights were short, And Arden chid the morn that call'd him from

me.

Ard. This deep dissembling, this hypocrisy, (The last worst state of a degenerate mind) Speaks her in vice determin'd and mature.

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

Would sell her free estate for marriage bonds?
From vows and oaths, and every servile tie,
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.—
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: curs'd, detested, Mosby, Shall render an account for both your crimes. Alic. What do I hear?

Ard. That base, mechanic slave

Shall answer with his blood.

Alic. O hear me speak.

[Aside.

Ard. No, I am deaf: as thou hast ever been To fame, to virtue, and my just complaints. Alic. Thus on my knees

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 sacrific'd my peace, and your own fame.
By corresponding with a menial slave?
Alic. Thou can'st not think, that I have
wrong'd thy bed?

Ard. Would, I could not!
Alic. By Heavens !
Ard. No perjuries.

But now, as you lay slumbering by my side,
I still awake, anxious, and full of thought,
(For thou hast banish'd sleep from these sad
eyes,)

With gentle accents, thrilling with desire,
You call'd on Mosby: love made me doubt my

ears,

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

Which glow'd, adulterous! with infernal heat;
And call'd a third time on the villain Mosby,
Alic. A dream, indeed, if I e'er call'd on him.
Ard. Thy guilty dreams betray thy waking
thoughts.

Alic. I know I'm simple, thoughtless, and unguarded;

And what is carelessness, you construe guilt.
Yet were I weak as those fantastic visions,
Sure I could never have condemn'd you, Arden,
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

mariners,

When struggling with the raging seas for life, Wish the assistance of some friendly plank? 'Tis that, and that alone, can bring me comfort.

Alic. O jealousy! thou fierce, remorseless fiend, Degenerate, most unnatural, child of love; How shall I chase thee from my Arden's bosom? Ard. There is a way, an easy way, AliciaAlic. O name it-speak.

Ard. What's past may be forgotten.

Your future conduct.

Alic. You distract me, Arden.

Say, how shall I convince you of the truth? Ard. I ask but this: never see Mosby more. By Heaven, she's dumb!

Alic. O how shall I conceal

My own confusion, and elude his rage? [Aside. Ard. Thou'rt lost, Alicia!-lost to me and

Alic. That always was your own.

At length has rous'd 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.

SCENE III-A Parlour in ARDEN's House.

Enter ALICIA, meeting MosBY. Alic. Mosby, that brow befits our wayward fate. The evil hour, long fear'd, is fallen upon us, And we shall sink beneath it. Do not frownIf you're unkind, to whom shall I complain?

Mos. Madam, it was my sister I expectedAlic. Am I forgotten then? Ungrateful man! This only could have added to my woes. Did you but know what I have borne for You would not thus, unmov'd, behold my tears. Mos. Madam, you make me vain. Alic. Insult not, Mosby.

you,

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 t'erase
The deep impression of your early vows.

Mos. Therefore you kindly chose to wed another. Alic. Reproach me not with what I deem'd my duty.

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

I would have died ere giv'n my hand to Arden.
Mos. You gave him all.

Alic. No, no, I gave him nothing: Words without truth-a hand without a heart. VOL. I....4 I

52*

Alic. Ha!-say on.

Mos. And, not preventing, art thou not the cause?

Alic. Ah! whither, Mosby-whither wouldst thou drive me?

Mos. Nay, didst thou love, or wouldst secure Preserve my life, and bind me yours for ever, thy fame, 'Tis yet within your power.

Alic. By Arden's death!

Mean'st thou not so? speak out, and be a devil.

Mos. Yes, 'tis for thee I am so-But your looks Declare, my death would please you better, Madam.

Alic. Exaggerating fiend! be dumb for ever. His death! I must not cast a glance that way. Mos. Is there another way-O think, Alicia. Alic. I will, for that will make me mad: and

madness

Were some excuse. Come, kind distraction! come, 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 you 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. [Exit.
Mos. Sir, I would gladly know, whether your

grant

Of the rich abbey-lands of Feversham Be yet confirm'd or not?

Ard. What if I tear

Her faithless heart, ev'n in the traitor's sight. Who taught it falsehood. [Aside

Frank. He is lost in thougnr.

Frank. Impossible to thought.

[Draws.

Whence, Arden, comes this sudden madness on thee,

That your Alicia, ever dear esteem'd,
And deeply lov'd—

Ard. Out on the vile adult'ress!
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 choose a proper place to show 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 FRANKLIN, Frank. Your longer stay will but incense him

friend;

My spirits fail-I shake-I must retire.
Frank. To your Alicia.

Ard. To my lonely couch;

For I must learn to live without her, Franklin, Frank. Pray, Heaven, forbid!

Ard. To hate her, to forget her-if I can;
No easy task for one who dotes like me.
From what a height I'm fallen! Once, smiling
love

Of all its horrors robb'd the blackest night,
And gilt with gladness every ray of light;
Now, tyrant-like, his conquest he maintains,

And o'er his groaning slave with rods of iron reigns. [Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I-The Street.

Enter GREEN and MOSBY.

Green. You pity me, and know not my estate. I'm ruin'd, Mosby: thoughtless and ill advis'd, 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 ungen'rous 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 his rage!

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

Green. Robb'd of the means of life,
What 's life itself? a useless load, a curse:
Which yet I'll dearly sell to my revenge.

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

Mos. Suppose you fail

Green. I can but lose my life.

[secure,

Mos. Then where is your revenge, when he, 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 groveling wretch Would wish to hold his life on such conditions!

Mos. But change the scene: suppose but Ar

den dead,

Your land restor'd, 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 accus'd, insulted, struck me;
Nay, his fair, virtuous wife, on my account-
Green. If fame speaks true, you're to be envied
there.

Enter BRADSHAW,

Brad. Save, save you, gentlemen. Mos. We thank you, neighbour. But whither in such haste?

As he holds

Brad. To the isle of Sheppy, To wait on good Lord Cheyney. In high esteem our worthy townsman Arden, I shall first call on him.-Tis well I met you, For yonder two were but bad road-companions. Green. They seem of desperate fortunes. Mos. Have they names?

Brad. One I know not: but judge him from

his comrade.

The foremost of the two I knew at Boulogne, Where in the late king's reign I serv'd myself. He was a corporal then, but such a villainBeneath a soldier's name.-A common cut-throat,

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

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

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 had'st 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 guests. Farewell, gentlemen.

Mos. Along with Bradshaw, And leave the management of these to me. [Aside 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 'scaped me so. You have surveyed us well. [To MOSBY.] How do you like us? Mos. Methinks, I read truth, prudence, secrecy, And courage, writ upon your manly brows. B. Will. What villany 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 dark deed is this to be the wages? [cut?

Shake. Hast ever an elder brother's throat to
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.-

In Feversham there lives a man, call'd Arden;
In general esteem, and ample means;
And has a wife, the very pride of nature.
I have been happy long in her affections, [tunes.
And, he, once dead, might with her share his for
He's jealous too of late, and threatens me.
Love, int'rest, self-defence, all, ask his death.—
B. Will. This man you'd have dispatched?
Mos. I would.

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

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

[of work. B. Will. 'George! this will be a dangerous piece Shake. Very dangerous. A man so known; and of his reputation too.

B. Will. And then the power and number of his friends must be considered. [Sirs? Mos. What! does your courage shrink already, 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 sad 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 contriv'd 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

SCENE II-A Room in ARDEN's House.

Enter ALICIA, with a letter. Alic. He doubts me; yet he dares not tell me so, But thus, by Green, whets my unsettled mind. [Reads.

"Strike home, or not at all. In case you fail, We have found instruments, by means of BradHe shall not find me undetermin'd now. [shaw." (For so he seem'd dispos'd,) he'll bring me word. Hark! Michael's on the watch.-If Arden sleeps, That, that's the safest time. This promis'd marWith Mosby's sister has remov'd his qualms. riage

Enter MICHAEL.

Why dost thou break upon me unawares? What of your master?

Mich. He's scarce sunk to rest, But full of meditated rage 'gainst Mosby.

Alic. He'll sleep in peace, ere long.-
Mich. Think not on that.

O, did Maria bless me with her smiles,
As you do Mosby, had I twenty lives,
I'd risk 'em all to win her to my arms.
Alic. I pr'ythee leave me, Michael.
[Exit MICHAEL.
What is nature?
There is a power in love, subdues to itself
All other passions in the human mind. [derer,
This wretch, more fearful than the lonely mur-
Whom with inquiring eyes some stranger views,
Would meet the king of terrors undismay'd,
For her he loves, and dare him to the combat.
And shall not I preserve my Mosby's life,
And shall not I?-A husband!-What's a hus-
band?

I have a soul above th' unnatural tie,
That tells me, I'm his right, and only his,
Who won my virgin heart.-Ye tender parents,
Whose cruel kindness made your child thus
wretched,

[scene;

Turn not your eyes toward earth to view this Twill make you sad in heaven.

[Exit.

SCENE III-Another Room. ARDEN sleeping on a couch.-Enter ALICIA, with a dagger in her hand.

Alic. See!-Jealousy, o'erwatch'd, is sunk to rest, While fearful guilt knows no security, But in repeated crimes. My weary eyes, Each moment apprehensive of his vengeance, Must seek for rest in vain 'till his are clos'd. Then for our mutual peace, and Mosby's love[Approaching to stab him, starts. He wakes-defend me from his just revenge! And yet he sees me not, nor moves a finger To save his threaten'd life. Then whence that

voice,

That pierc'd my ears, and cried, Alicia hold!
Can mimic fancy cheat the outward sense,
And form such sounds? If these heart-racking

thoughts

Precede the horrid act, what must ensue?
Worse plague I cannot fear from Arden's death,
But from his life-the death of him I love.
Perish the hated husband-Wherefore hated?
Is he not all that my vain sex could wish?
My eyes, while they survey his graceful form,
Condemn my heart, and wonder how it stray'd.
He sighs-he starts-he groans. His body sleeps,
But restless grief denies his mind repose.
Perhaps he dreams of me; perhaps he sees me,
Thus, like a fury broke from deepest hell,
Lust in my heart, and murder in my hand,-

[She drops the dagger, ARDEN starts up. Ard. Her dagger, Michael-seize it, and I'm safe.

How strong she is!-Oh!-what a fearful dream,
Before me still! speak, vision-art thou Alicia,
Or but the coinage of my troubled brain ?-
Alic. O Arden-husband-lord-
Ard. Art thou my wife?

Thou'rt substance-I'm wrapp'd in wonderhence

Hast lost all sense of fear, as well as shame,
That thou durst haunt me thus, asleep and waking,
Thou idol, and thou torment of my soul.
Alic. My bleeding heart-

Ard. Away, begone, and leave me:
Lest. in the transports of unbounded rage,

SCENE I.—A Road near Feversham. Enter BLACK WILL, Shakebag, and GREEN. Green. Well, is Arden, at last, despatched ? Shake. Yes, safe to Feversham.

Green. Safe, say you! his good fortune mocks us all.

His strange escape has almost stagger'd me; But, thinking of my wrongs, I'm more confirm'd. B. Will. Well said, my man of resolution! A gentleman commits a murder with double the satisfaction, for such a heart. We must lay our snares more cunning for the future.

Green. We should consult with Michael, Arden's man

The pigmy-hearted wretch, though long ago
He swore his master dead, acts with reluctance.
Shake. The coward must be spurred.-He does
it, or he dies.

Green. I wonder at his absence.-As he knew Of our attempt, and promis'd to be here.

Enter MICHAEL.

Mich. I saw my master and Lord Cheyney pass, And my heart leap'd for joy. [Apart.

B. Will. What says the villain? Mich. Would I were gone. [Aside.] Sir, if I give offence[Going.

Green. Michael, come back; you must not leave us so?

Mich. What is your pleasure?
Green. Why, we understand

You are in love with Mosby's beauteous sister.
Mich. Suppose I am.

B. Will. You deal too mildly with the peasant. You swore to kill your master, villain. Be an honest man of your word, and do it then, white liver! Mich. Sir, I repented.

B. Will. Repented! What's that? Dog know your rank, and act as we command, or your heart's blood

Mich. What must I do?

[Frighted.