To bring perdition on the universe. [Smiling affectionately. I see you love me still, The labours of my hand are still your joy; [Pointing to the belt on which was sus- Mar. To give it back again! Idon. That smile hath life in it! This road is perilous; For me, I have business, as you hear Oswald, But will return to you by break of day. ACT IV. ith [Exeunt. Eld. Enter ELDRED. Better this bare rock, Though it were tottering over a man's head, Than a tight case of dungeon walls for shelter From such rough dealing. [A moaning voice is heard. Ha! what sound is that? Trees creaking in the wind (but none are here) Send forth such noises-and that weary bell! Surely some evil Spirit abroad to-night Is ringing it 'twould stop a Saint in prayer, And that-what is it? never was sound so like A human groan, Ha! what is here? Poor Man Murdered! alas! speak-speak, I am your friend: No answer-hush--lost wretch, he lifts his hand That I embarked for Syria. On our voyage Doth hannt your memory. Osw. Patience, hear me further!One day in silence did we drift at noon By a bare rock, narrow, and white, and bare ;, No food was there, no drink, no grass, no shade, No tree, nor jutting eminence, nor form Inanimate large as the body of man, Nor any living thing whose lot of life moon. To dig for water on the spot, the Captain Landed with a small troop, myself being one: There I reproached him with his treachery. Imperious at all times, his temper rose; He struck me; and that instant had I killed him, And put an end to his insoience, but my Comrades Rushed in between us: then did I insist (All hated him, and I was stung to madness) That we should leave him there, alive!-we did so. Mar. And he was famished? Osw. Naked was the spot; Methinks I see it now-how in the sun Its stony surface glittered like a shield; And in that miserable place we left him, Alone but for a swarm of minute creatures Not one of which could help him while alive, Or mourn him dead. Mar. A man by men cast off, Left without burial! nay, not dead nor dying, But standing, walking, stretching forth his The plot to rid themselves, at any cost, All vanished. I gave way-do you attend? Osw. I hid my head within a Convent, there Mar. The proofs-you ought to have seen The guilt-have touched it-felt it at your heartAs I have done. Osw. And, wheresoe'er I turned me, I beheld [Marking MARMADUKE'S countenance. Mar. O wretched Human-kind!-Until the mystery Of all this world is solved, well may we envy The worm, that, underneath a stone whose weight Would crush the lion's paw with mortal anguish, Doth lodge, and feed, and coil, and sleep, in safety. Fell not the wrath of Heaven upon those traitors? Osw. Give not to them a thought. Palestine From We marched to Syria: oft I left,the Camp, Into deep chasms troubled by roaring streams: And felt, if aught on earth deserves a curse, I had been nourished by the sickly food Mar. I pity, can forgive, you; but those That monstrous perfidy! Osw. Keep down your wrath. False Shame discarded, spurious Fame despised, Twin sisters both of Ignorance, I found Life stretched before me smooth as some broad way Cleared for a monarch's progress. Priests might spin Their veil, but not for me-'twas in fit place Mar. 'Tis a strange aching that, when we would curse And cannot. You have betrayed me-I have done 1 am content-I know that he is guiltlessThat both are guiltless, without spot or stain, Mutually consecrated. Poor old Man! And I had heart for this, because thou lovedst Her who from very infancy had been Light to thy path, warmth to thy blood!-Together [Turning to OSWALD. We propped his steps, he leaned upon us both. Osw. Ay, we are coupled by a chain of ada mant; Let us be fellow-labourers, then, to enlarge come; We need an inward sting to goad us on. But that was a vain hope. You have struck home, With a few drops of blood eut short the busi ness; A noise at midnight does so frighten me. Idon. Hush! Elea. [Listening. They are gone. On such a night, my husband, Dragged from his bed, was cast into a dungeon, Where, hid from me, he counted many years, A criminal in no one's eyes but theirsNot even in theirs-whose brutal violence So dealt with him. Idon. I have a noble Friend First among youths of knightly breeding, One Who lives but to protect the weak or injured. There again! [Listening Elea. 'Tis my husband's foot. Good Eldred I will retire-good night! Enter ELDRED, (hides a bundle). Eld. I am belated, and you must know the cause—(speaking low) that is the blood of an unhappy Man. Elea. Oh! we are undone for ever. Eld. Heaven forbid that I should lift my hand against any man. Eleanor, I have shed tears to-night, and it comforts me to think of it. Elca. Where, where is he? Eld. I have done him no harm, but-it will be forgiven me; it would not have been so once. [A short pause; she falls upon his neck. Eld. To-night I met with an old Man lying stretched upon the ground-a sad spectacle: raised him up with a hope that we might shelter and restore him. Elea. (as if ready to run). Where is he? You were not able to bring him all the way with you; let us return, I can help you. [ELDRED shakes his head. Eld. He did not seem to wish for life: as I was struggling on, by the light of the moon I saw the stains of blood upon my clothes-he waved his hand, as if it were all useless; and I let him sink again to the ground, Elea, Oh that I had been by your side! Eld. I tell you his hands and his body were cold-how could I disturb his last moments? he strove to turn from me as if he wished to settle into sleep. Elea. But, for the stains of blood Eld. He must have fallen, I fancy, for his head was cut; but I think his malady was cold and hunger. Elea. Oh, Eldred, I shall never be able to look up at this roof in storm or fair but I shall tremble. Eld. Is it not enough that my ill stars have kept me abroad to-night till this hour? I come home, and this is my comfort! Elea. But did he say nothing which might have set you at ease? Eld. I thought hè grasped my hand while he was muttering something about his Child-his Daughter (starting as if he heard a noise). What is that? Elea. Eldred, you are a father. Eld. God knows what was in my heart, and will not curse my son for my sake. Elea. But you prayed by him? you waited the hour of his release? Eld. The night was wasting fast; I have no friend; I am spited by the world-his wound terrified me-if I had brought him along with me, and he had died in my arms!I am sure I heard something breathing-and this chair! Elea. Oh, Eldred, you will die alone. You will have nobody to close your eyes-no hand to grasp your dying hand-I shall be in my grave. A curse will attend us all. Eld. Have you forgot your own troubles when I was in the dungeon? Elea. And you left him alive? Eld. Alive!-the damps of death were upon him he could not have survived an hour. Elea. In the cold, cold night, Eld. (in a savage tone), Ay, and his head was bare; I suppose you would have had me lend my bonnet to cover it.-You will never rest till I am brought to a felon's end. Elea. Is there nothing to be done? cannot we go to the Convent? Eld. Ay, and say at once that I murdered him! Elea. Eldred, I know that ours is the only house upon the Waste; let us take heart: this Man may be rich; and could he be saved by our means, his gratitude may reward us. Eld. 'Tis all in vain. Elea. But let us make the attempt. This old Man may have a wife, and he may have children-let us return to the spot, we may restore him, and his eyes may yet open upon those that love him, Eld. He will never open them more; even when he spoke to me, he kept them firmly sealed as if he had been blind. Idon. (rushing out). It is. it is, my FatherEld. We are betrayed (looking at IDONEA). Elea. His Daughter!-God have mercy! (turning to IDONEA). Idon. (sinking down). Oh! lift me up and carry me to the place. You are safe; the whole world shall not harm you. Elea, This Lady is his Daughter. I will assist you to lay hands upon him. Osw. No, no, my Friend, you may pursue your business 'Tis a poor wretch of an unsettled mind, Who has a trick of straying from his keepers; We must be gentle.., Leave him to my care. [Exit Forester. If his own eyes play false with him, these freaks Of fancy shall be quickly tamed by mine; SCENE, the edge of the Moor. MARMADUKE and ELDRED enter from opposite sides. Mar. (raising his eyes and perceiving ELDRED.) In any corner of this savage Waste, That I may see him. On a ridge of rocks Eld. A lonesome Chapel stands, deserted now: The bell is left, which no one dares remove; And, when the stormy wind blows o'er the peak, It rings, as if a human hand were there To pull the cord. I guess he must have heard it; And it had led him towards the precipice, Mar. Perhaps you are his son? Mar. You are The All-seeing knows, I did not think he had a living Child.— But whither did you carry him? Eld. Mar. That was no work of mine. Nor was it mine. Mar. But had he strength to walk? I could have borne him And seems the like for you; if 'tis your wish, I'll lead you to his Daughter; but 'twere best That she should be prepared; I'll go before. Mar. There will be need of preparation. [ELDRED goes off. Elea. (enters). Master! Your limbs sink under you, shall I support you? Mar. (taking her arm). Woman, I've lent my body to the service Which now thou tak'st upon thee. God forbid That thou shouldst ever meet a like occasion With such a purpose in thine heart as mine was. Elea. Oh, why have I to do with things like these? [Exeunt. SCENE changes to the door of ELDRED's cottageIDONEA seated-enter ELDRED. Eld. Your Father, Lady, from a wilful hand Has met unkindness; so indeed he told me, And you remember such was my report: From what has just befallen me I have cause To fear the very worst. Idon. My Father is dead; Why dost thou come to me with words like these? Eld. A wicked Man should answer for his crimes. Idon. Thou seest me what I am. It was most heinous, And doth call out for vengeance. Idon. Do not add, I prithee, to the harm thou'st done already. Eld. Hereafter you will thank me for this service. Hard by, a Man I met, who, from plain proofs |