Page:Representative American plays.pdf/124

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My thoughts glanc'd not on thee. Imagination

Pictur'd only, then, her orphan state, helpless;

Her weak and grief-exhausted frame. Alas!

This blow will kill her.

. (Kneeling.) Here, do I myself

Devote, my fortune consecrate, to thee,

To thy remembrance, and Honora's service.

. Enough! Let me not see her more—nor think of her—

Farewell, farewell, sweet image! Now for death.

. Yet that thou should'st the felon's fate fulfil—

Damnation! My blood boils. Indignation

Makes the current of my life course wildly

Through its round and maddens each emotion.

. Come, come, it matters not.

. I do remember,

When a boy at school, in our allotted tasks,

We, by our puny acts, strove to pourtray

The giant thoughts of Otway. I was Pierre.

O, thou art Pierre's reality—a soldier,

On whose manly brow sits fortitude enamor'd;

A Mars, abhorring vice, yet doom'd to die

A death of infamy; thy corse expos'd

To vulgar gaze—halter'd—distorted—oh—

(Pauses, and then adds in a low hollow voice:)

Pierre had a friend to save him from such shame—

And so hast thou.

. No more, as thou dost love me.

. I have a sword, and arm, that never fail'd me.

. Bland, such an act would justly thee involve,

And leave that helpless one thou sworest to guard

Expos'd to every ill. O, think not of it!

. If thou wilt not my aid—take it thyself.

(Draws and offers his sword.)

. No, men will say that cowardice did urge me.

In my mind's weakness, I did wish to shun

That mode of death which error represented

Infamous: now let me rise superior;

And with a fortitude too true to start

From mere appearances, show your country

That she, in me, destroys a man who might

Have liv'd to virtue.

. (Sheathing his sword.) I will not think more of it;

I was again the sport of erring passion.

. Go thou and guide Honora from this spot.

. (Entering.) Who shall oppose his wife? I will have way!

They, cruel, would have kept me from thee, André.

Say, am I not thy wife? Wilt thou deny me?

Indeed I am not dress'd in bridal trim.

But I have travelled far:—rough was the road—

Rugged and rough—that must excuse my dress.

(Seeing distress.) Thou art not glad to see me.

. Break my heart!

. Indeed, I feel not much in spirits. I wept but now.

. (To .) Say nothing.

. I am ready.

. (Seeing the .) Are they here?

Here again—the same—but they shall not harm me.

I am with thee, my André—I am safe—

And thou art safe with me. Is it not so?

(Clinging to him.)

. Where is this lovely victim?

. Thanks, my mother.

. M'Donald sent me hither. My woes are past.

Thy father, by the foe released, already

Is in safety. This be forgotten now;

And every thought be turn'd to this sad scene.

Come, lady, home with me.

. Go home with thee?

Art thou my André's mother? We will home

And rest, for thou art weary—very weary.

(Leans on .)

( retires to the, and goes off with them, looking on her to the