Alic. False indeed,

But not to thee, cruel, injurious Mosby !

security;

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 Moshy.

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;

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

more;

Pray quit the house.

Mos. Sir, I shall take your counsel.

[Exit Mosby. Ard. He hath escaped me then. But for my wifeFrank. What has she done? Ard. Done! must I tell my shame? Away! begone! lest, from my prey withheld, I turn, and tear the officious band, that lets me→ Soft! art thou Franklin? Pardon me, sweet friendMy spirits fail- -I shakeFrank. To your Alicia. Ard. To my lonely couch;

-I must retire.

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

Ard. To hate her, to forget her, if I cau : No easy task for one, who doats like me. From what an height I'm fallen! Once smiling love

Of all its horrors robbed 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

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.

To wait on good lord Cheyney. As he holds
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 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.

Mos. [To Green.]

ter to Alicia:

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're to be envied
there.

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

I want not cause nor will, not means nor friends

Green. Nor opportunity shall long be wanting. Mos. Enough: his fate is fixed. See! Bradshaw's here!

Enter BRADSHAW.

Brad. Save, save you, gentlemen!

Mos. We thank you, neighbour,

But whither in such haste?

Brad. To the isle of Shippey, ́

it.

A word-write you a let

This honest fool may bear

Hint at these men. In case her courage fail, 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 solum 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,

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 Bradshaw. 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 Mosby.] How do you like us? Mos. Methinks I read truth, prudence, se

crecy,

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 unseasona-
ble 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?

Shake. 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 their 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,

tunes.

He's jealous too of late, and threatens me.

Love, interest, self-defence, all ask his death.

That, that's the safest time. This promised mar

riage

With Mosby's sister has removed his qualms.

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 against 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 them all to win her to my arms. Alic. I prithee leave me, Michael. Michael.] What is nature!

[Exit

There is a power in love, subdues to itself
All other passions in the human mind.
This wretch, more fearful than the lonely mur-
derer,

Whom with inquiring eyes some stranger views,
Would meet the king of terrors undismayed,
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 the 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,

Turn not your eyes towards earth to view this

Enter ALICIA, with a dagger in her hand. Alic. See! Jealousy, o'erwatched, 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 closed.
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 threatened life. Then whence that
voice

That pierced 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 strayed.
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-

[Alicia 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 am wrapped in wonder—

hence

Hast lost all sense of fear, as well as shame, That thou dar'st haunt me thus, asleep and wa

king,

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,
I rush upon thee, and deface these charms,
That first enslaved my soul; mangle that face,
Where, spite of falsehood, beauty triumphs still;
Mar that fair frame, and crush thee into atoms.
Avoid me, and be safe-Nay now you drive me

hence. [Alicia kneels, he turns away. Cruel and false as thou hast been to me, I cannot see thee wring thy suppliant hands, And weep, and kncel in vain.

Alic. This, this is he

[Erit Arden.

I came prepared to murder. Curst Alicia!
[Takes up the dagger.
In thy own bosom plunge the fatal steel,
Or his, who robbed thee of thy fame and virtue.
It will not be-Fear holds my dastard hand :
Those chaster powers, that guard the nuptial bed
From foul pollution, and the hand from blood,
Have left their charge, and I am lost for ever.
[Exit.

BLACK WILL and SHAKEBAG.

bed himself as he walked,

let him escape!

B. Will. I pray thee, peace.

Shake. Green and I beheld him pass carelessly by within reach of your dagger. If you had held

A kind of palsy seized me.

Shake. Palsy! when you're upon your duty! Go, go and sleep, or drink away your fears. You tremble still