Page:Representative American plays.pdf/119

102 . O my good friend!

. (Taking her hand.)

I know thy cause of sorrow.

Art thou now from our Commander?

. (Drying her tears and assuming dignity.)

I am.

But vain is my entreaty. All unmov'd

He hears my words, he sees my desperate sorrow.

Fain would I blame his conduct,—but I cannot.

Strictly examin'd, with intent to mark

The error which so fatal proves to me,

My scrutiny but ends in admiration.

Thus when the prophet from the hills of Moab,

Look'd down upon the chosen race of Heaven,

With fell intent to curse, ere yet he spake,

Truth all resistless, emanation bright

From great Adonai, fill'd his froward mind,

And chang'd the curses of his heart to blessings.

. Thou payest high praise to virtue. Whither now?

. I still must hover round this spot until

My doom is known.

. Then to my quarters, lady;

There shall my mate give comfort and refreshment:

One of your sex can best your sorrows soothe.

(Exeunt.)

. Where'er I look, cold desolation meets me.

My father—André—and self-condemnation.

Why seek I André now? Am I a man

To soothe the sorrows of a suffering friend?

The weather-cock of passion! fool inebriate!

Who could with ruffian hand strive to provoke

Hoar wisdom to intemperance! who could lie!

Aye, swagger, lie, and brag!—Liar! Damnation!

O, let me steal away and hide my head,

Nor view a man, condemned to harshest death,

Whose words and actions, when by mine compar'd.

Show white as innocence and bright as truth.

I now would shun him, but that his shorten'd

Thread of life gives me no line to play with.

He comes with smiles, and all the air of triumph.

While I am sinking with remorse and shame;

Yet he is doom'd to death, and I am free.

. Welcome, my Bland! Cheerly, a welcome hither!

I feel assurance that my last request

Will not be slighted. Safely thy father

Shall return to thee. (Holding out a paper.) See what employment

For a dying man. Take thou these verses;

And, after my decease, send them to her

Whose name is woven in them; whose image

Hath controul'd my destiny. Such tokens

Are rather out of date. Fashions

There are in love as in all else; they change

As variously. A gallant knight, erewhile,

Of Cœur de Lion's day, would, dying, send

His heart home to its mistress; degenerate

Soldier, I send but some blotted paper.

. If 't would not damp thy present cheerfulness,

I would require the meaning of thy words.

I ne'er till now did hear of André's mistress.

. Mine is a story of that common kind,

So often told, with scanty variation,

That the pall'd ear loaths the repeated tale.

Each young romancer chuses for his theme

The woes of youthful hearts, by the cold hand

Of frosty age, arm'd with parental power,

Asunder torn. But I long since have ceas'd

To mourn; well satisfied that she I love,