Whate'er resistance I may seem to make,
I am betrayed within: My will's seduced,
And my whole soul infected. The desine
Of life returns, and brings with it a train
Of appetites, that rage to be supplied!
Whoever stands to parley with temptation,
Parleys to be o'ercome.

Agn. Then nought remains

But the swift execution of a deed,
That is not to be thought on, or delayed→→

O. Wilm. Generous, unhappy man! O! what
could move thee

To put thy life and fortune in the hands
Of wretches mad with anguish !
Agn. By what means

Shall we effect his death?

O. Wilm. Why, what a fiend!

How cruel, how remorseless and impatient
Have pride and poverty made thee !
Agn. Barbarous man!

Whose wasteful riots ruined our estate,

And drove our son, ere the first down had spread His rosy checks, spite of my sad presages, Earnest intreaties, agonics, and tears,

To seek his bread amongst strangers, and to perish

In some remote, inhospitable land;

The loveliest youth, in person and in mind,
That ever crowned a groaning mother's pains!
Where was thy pity, where thy patience then?
Thou cruel husband! thou unnatural father!
Thou most remorseless, most ungrateful man!
To waste my fortune, rob me of my son,
To drive me to despair, and then reproach me.
For being what thou hast made me!
O. Wilm. Dry thy tears:

I ought not to reproach thee. I confess

That thou hast suffered much: So have we both. But chide no more; I am wrought up to thy purpose.

The poor, ill-fated, unsuspecting victim,
Ere he reclined him on the fatal couch,
From which he's ne'er to rise, took off the sash,
And costly dagger that thou saw'st him wear,
And thus, unthinking, furnished us with arms
Against himself. Steal to the door,
And bring me word, if he be still asleep.
[Exit AGNES.
Or I'm deceived, or he pronounced himself
The happiest of mankind. Deluded wretch !
Thy thoughts are perishing, thy youthful joys,
Touched by the icy hand of grisly Death,
Are withering in their bloom-But, thought ex-
tinguished,

He'll never know the loss,

Nor feel the bitter pangs of disappointment-
Then I was wrong in counting him a wretch:
To die well pleased,

Is all the happiest of mankind can hope for.
To be a wretch, is to survive the loss
Of every joy, and even hope itself,

As I have done-Why do I mourn him then?
For, by the anguish of my tortured soul,
He's to be envied, if compared with me.

Enter AGNES, with Young WILMOT's dagger. Agn. The stranger sleeps at present; but so restless

His slumbers seem, they can't continue long.
Here, I've secured his dagger.

0. Wilm. O Agnes! Agnes! if there be a hell,

'Tis just we should expect it.

[Goes to take the dugger, but lets it fall. Agn. Shake off this panic, and be more your

self!

O. Wilm. What's to be done? On what had we determined?

Agn. You're quite dismayed.

Takes up the dagger. O. Wilm. Give me the fatal steel. 'Tis but a single murder,

Necessity, impatience, and despair,

The three wide mouths of that true Cerberus,
Grim poverty, demand: they shall be stopped.
Ambition, persecution, and revenge,

Devour their millions daily: And shall I—
But follow me, and see how little cause
You had to think, there was the least remain
Of manhood, pity, mercy, or remorse,
Left in this savage breast.

[Going the wrong way.

Agn. Where do you go?
The street is that way.

O. Wilm. True; I had forgot.
Agn. Quite, quite confounded!

O. Wilm. Well, I recover. I shall find the

way.

[Exit. Agn. O softly! softly! The least noise undoes us.

What are we doing? Misery and want
Are lighter ills than this! I cannot bear it!—
Stop, hold thy hand!—Inconstant, wretched wo-

man!

What! doth my heart recoil?- -O Wilmot ! Wilmot!

What power shall I invoke to aid thee, Wilmot! [Exit.

Enter CHARLOTTE, EUSTACE, and RANDAL. Char. What strange neglect! The doors are all unbarred, And not a living creature to be seen!

Enter Old WILMOT and AGNES.

Char. Sir, we are come to give and to receive
A thousand greetings-Ha! what can this mean
Why do you look with such amazement on us?
Are these your transports for your son's return?
Where is my Wilmot ?-Has he not been here?
Would he defer your happiness so long,
Or could a habit so disguise your son,
That you refused to own him?
Agn. Heard you that?—

What prodigy of horror is disclosing,
To render murder venial!

O. Wilm. Prithee, peace!

The miserable damned suspend their howling,

And death and darkness bury in oblivion
Mankind and all their deeds, that no posterity
May ever rise to hear our horrid tale,
Or view the grave of such detested parricides!
O. Wilm. Curses and deprecations are in vain :
The sun will shine, and all things have their
course,

When we, the curse and burden of the earth,
Shall be absorbed, and mingled with its dust.
Our guilt and desolation must be told,
From age to age, to teach desponding mortals,
How far beyond the reach of human thought
Heaven, when incensed, can punish-Die thou
first.
[Stabs AGNES.

I durst not trust thy weakness.
Agn. Ever kind,

But most in this!

Are these the fruits of all thy anxious cares
For thy ungrateful parents?- -Cruel fiends!
O. Wilm. What whining fool art thou, who
would'st usurp

My sovereign right of grief!-Was he thy son?-
?—
Say, canst thou shew thy hands reeking with
blood,

That flowed, through purer channels, from thy loins?

Compute the sands that bound the spacious ocean,
And swell their number with a single grain;
Increase the noise of thunder with thy voice;
Or, when the raging wind lays nature waste,
Assist the tempest with thy feeble breath;
But name not thy faint sorrow, with the anguish
Of a curst wretch, who only hopes from this
[Stabbing himself.

To change the scene, but not relieve his pain!
Rand. A dreadful instance of the last remorse!
May all your woes end here!

Ŏ. Wilm. O would they end

A thousand ages hence, I then should suffer
Much less than I deserve. Yet let me say,
You'll do but justice to inform the world,
This horrid deed, that punishes itself,
Was not intended, thinking him our son;
For that we knew not till it was too late.
Proud, and impatient under our afflictions,
While Heaven was labouring to make us happy,
We brought this dreadful ruin on ourselves.
Mankind may learn-but-oh-

[Dies.

Rand. Heaven grant they may! And may thy penitence atone thy crime !— Tend well the hapless Charlotte, and hear hence These bleeding victims of despair and pride; Toll the death-bell! and follow to the grave The wretched parents and ill-fated son.

[Exeunt omnes.

SCENE I.-The Street before ARDEN's Door. Enter MOSBY.

Mos. The morning's dark, and horrid as my purpose.

Thrice have my snares been laid for Arden's life,
And thrice hath he escaped. I am not safe:
The living may revenge. Oh! could I win
Alicia to conspire her husband's fall,
Then might I say, security, thou'rt mine,
And laugh at all to come. For other instruments,
There's Green: he bears him hard about this suit

For the abbey-lands, to which the hot youth pleads

Some fancied right. Michael, the trencher favourite,

A bastard, bred of Arden's charity,
He has been privy to our secret joys,
And, on that trust presuming, loves my sister-
Winks at adultery, and may at murder.
Maria is his price. I've placed her here,
Companion of my sweet Alicia's hours,
To spread her charms forever in his eye:
To her are all my visits. But Alicia-
She must, she shall comply: when to my arms

Would sell her free estate for marriage bonds?
From vows and oaths, and every servile tye,
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.
'Tis heavenly this-

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, cursed, detested Mosby, Shall render an account for both your crimes. Alic. What do I hear!

Ard. The 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→→→

Ard. Adultress! dost thou kneel And weep, and pray, and bend thy stubborn heart (Stubborn to me) to sue for him? Away! Away this instant, lest I kill thee too.

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 sacrificed my peace, and your own fame, By corresponding with a menial slave?

Alic. Thou canst not think, that I have wronged thy bed?

Ard. Would I could not!
Alic. By Heaven-
Ard. No perjuries.

But now, as you lay slumbering by my side,
I still awake, anxious and full of thought,
(For thou hast banished sleep from these sad eyes
With gentle accents, thrilling with desire,
You called on Mosby. Love made me doubtmy

ears,

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

Which glowed, adultress! with infernal heat;
And called, a third time, on the villain Mosby.

Alic. A dream indeed, if I e'er called on him. Ard. Thy guilty dreams betray thy waking thoughts.

Alic. I know I'm simple, thoughtless, and ur guarded;

And what is carelessness you construe guilt.
Yet were I weak as those fantastic visions,
Sure I could never have condemned you, Arder,
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 ma-

riners,

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, Alicia.
Alic. 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 my truth?
Ard. I ask but this: never see Mosby more!
[He starts.
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 Heaven.

Alic. Indeed I'm lost, if you unkindly doubt me. Ard. Wilt thou, then, ne'er converse with Mosby more?

Alic. If I e'er do, may Heaven, and you, forsake me!

Ard. You'll keep your word, Alicia! Prithee,

SCENE III.-A Parlour in ARDEN's House.

Enter ALICIA, meeting MOSBY,

Alic. Mosby, that brow befits our wayward
fate.

The evil hour, long feared, is fallen upon us,
And we shall sink beneath it. Do not frown-
If you're unkind, to whom shall I complain?
Mos. Madam, it was my sister I expected.
Alic. Am I forgotten then? Ungrateful man!
This only could have added to my woes.
Did you but know what I have borne for you,
You would not thus unmoved behold my tears.
Mos. Madam, you make me vain.
Alic. Insult not, Mosby:

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 to erase
The deep impression of our early vows.

Mos. Therefore you kindly chose to wed ano-
ther.

Alic. Reproach me not with what I deemed
my duty.

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

I would have died ere given my hand to Arden.
Mos. You gave him all

Alic. No, no, I gave him nothing:

Words without truth-an hand without a heart!

At length hath roused 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,

The cause abhorred of shame, of blood, and ruin,
Thou'lt be exposed, and hooted through the world.
Alic. O hide the dreadful image from my view!
Chaste matrons, modest maids, and virtuous
wives,

Scorning a weakness which they never knew,
Shall blush, with indignation, at my name!

Mos. My death-but that, though certain---
Alic. Labour not

To drive me to despair. Fain would I hopeMos. You may, and be deceived. For me, I know