Alic. Sure, something more than fortune join'd your loves: Nor could his greatness, and his gracious form, J. Sh. Name him no more : He was the bane and ruin of my peace. This anguish and these tears, these are the legacies Alic. Joy of my life, my dearest Shore, forbear He shall be mov'd to pity, and redress thee. J. Sh. My form, alas! has long forgot to please; The scene of beauty and delight is chang'd; No roses bloom upon my fading cheek, Nor laughing graces wanton in my eyes; And pining discontent, a rueful train, Dwell on my brow, all hideous and forlorn. Alic. Does Hastings undertake to plead your cause? But wherefore should he not? Hastings has eyes; The gentle lord has a right tender heart, Melting and easy, yielding to impression, And catching the soft flame from each new beauty; But yours shall charm him long. J. Sh. Away, you flatterer! Nor charge his gen'rous meaning with a weakness, Alic. Live! live and reign for ever in my bosom; [Embracing. Safe and unrivall'd there possess thy own; 1 Which here to this my other self I vow. J. Sh. Yes, thou art true, and only thou art true; Therefore these jewels, once the lavish bounty Of royal Edward's love, I trust to thee; [Giving a casket. Receive this, all that I can call my own, And let it rest unknown, and safe with thee: That if the state's injustice should oppress me, Strip me of all, and turn me out a wanderer, My wretchedness may find relief from thee, And shelter from the storm. Alic. My all is thine; One common hazard shall attend us both, But let thy fearful doubting heart be still; The saints and angels have thee in their charge, And all things shall be well. Think not, the good, The gentle deeds of mercy thou hast done, Shall die forgotten all; "the poor, the pris'ner, "The fatherless, the friendless, and the widow, "Who daily own the bounty of thy hand, "Shall cry to Heav'n and pull a blessing on thee;" Ev'n man, the merciless insulter man, Man, who rejoices in our sex's weakness, Shall pity thee, and with unwonted goodness J. Sh. Why should I think that man will do for me, What yet he never did for wretches like me? Mark by what partial justice we are judg'd: Such is the fate unhappy women find, And such the curse entail'd upon our kind, That man, the lawless libertine, may rove, Free and unquestion'd through the wilds of love; While woman, sense and nature's easy fool, If poor weak woman swerve from virtue's rule, If, strongly charm'd, she leave the thorny way, And in the softer paths of pleasure stray, Ruin ensues, reproach and endless shame, And one false step entirely damns her fame : In vain with tears the loss she may deplore, In vain look back on what she was before; She sets, like stars that fall, to rise no more. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I. Continues. Enter ALICIA, speaking to JANE SHORE as entering. Alicia. No farther, gentle friend; good angels guard you, Forget the travail of the day in sleep: What noise is that? [Knocking without. What visitor is this, who with bold freedom, Breaks in upon the peaceful night and rest, Enter a Servant. Ser. One from the court, Lord Hastings (as I think) demands my lady. Alic. Hastings! Be still, my heart, and try to meet him With his own arts: with falshood-But he comes. Enter Lord HASTINGS, speaks to a Servant as entering. Hast. Dismiss my train, and wait alone without. Alicia here! Unfortunate encounter! But be it as it may. Alic. When humbly, thus, The great descend to visit the afflicted, |