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true, than lose a moment's time. Even now the fraid of your own shadow, or, what is less than a horrid deed may be doing-dreadful imagina- shadow, your conscience ! tion !

or it may be done, and we be vainly de- Barn. Though to man unknown I did the acbating on the means to prevent what is already cursed act, what can we hide from Heaven's allpast.

seeing eye? Thor. This earnestness convinces me, that he Mill. No more of this stuff. What advantage knows more than he has yet discovered. What, have you made of his death; or what advantage ho! without there! who waits?

may yet be made of it? Did you secure the keys

of his treasure, which, no doubt, were about him? Enter a Servant.

What gold, what jewels, or what else of value Order the groom to saddle the swiftest horse, have you brought me? and prepare to set out with speed; an affair of Burn. Think you I added sacrilege to murder? life and death demands his diligence. [Exit Ser-Oh! had you seen him, as his life flowed from vant.] For you, whose behaviour on this occasion him in a crimson flood, and heard him praying I have no time to commend as it deserves, I must for me by the double name of nephew and of engage your further assistance. Return, and ob- murderer-alas, alas! he knew not then, that serve this Millwood till I come. I have your di- his nephew was his murderer!) how would you rections, and will follow you as soon as possible. have wished, as I did, though you had a thou[E.rit Lucy.] Trueman, you, I am sure, will not sand years of life to come, to have given them all be idle on this occasion. [Exit Thorow good to have lengthened his one hour! But, being dead,

True. He only, who is a friend, can judge of my I fled the sight of what my hands had done; nor distress.

(Exit. could I, to have gained the empire of the world,

have violated, by theft, his sacred corpse.

Mill. Whining, preposterous, canting villain ! SCENE II.-Millwood's house. to murder your uncle, rob him of life, nature's

first, last, dear prerogative, after which there is Enter MillwOOD.

no injury—then fear to take what he no longer Mill. I wish I knew the event of his design. wanted, and bring to me your penury and guilt! The attempt without success would ruin him. Do you think I will hazard my reputation, nay, Well; what have I to apprehend from that? I life, to entertain you? fear too much. The mischief being only intend- Barn. Oh, Millwood !- this from thee! ed, his friends, through pity of his youth, turn all But I have done. If you hate me, if you wish their rage on me. I should have thought of that me dead, then are you happy; for, oh! it is sure before. Suppose the deed done; then, and then my grief will quickly end me. only, I shall be secure.-Or what if he returns Mill. In his madness he will discover all, and without attempting it at all !

involve me in his ruin. We are on a precipice,

from whence there is no retreat for both Then Enter BarnWELL bloody.

to preserve myself— (Pauses. There is no But he is here, and I have done him wrong. His other way. It is dreadful, but reflection comes bloody hands shew he has done the deed, but too late when danger is pressing, and there is no shew he wants the prudence to conceal it. room for choice. It must be donem{Aside. Barn. Where shall I hide me? Whither shall Rings a bell

, enter a Servant.]- Fetch me an ofI fiy, to avoid the swift unerring hand of justice? ficer, and seize this villain. He has confessed Mill

. Disiniss your fears: though thousands himself a murderer. Should I let him escape, I had pursued you to the door, yet, being 'entered might justly be thought as bad as he. here, you are as safe as innocence. I have a ca

[Erit Sertant. vern, by art so cunningly contrived, that the Barn. Oh, Millwood ! sure you do not, you piercing eyes of jealousy and revenge may search cannot mean it. Stop the messenger; upon my in vain, nor find the entrance to the safe retreat. knees, I beg you would call him back. It is fit I There will I hide you, if any danger's near. die indeed, but not by you. I will this instant

Barn. Oh, hide me from myself, if it be deliver myself into the hands of justice, indeed I possible; for, while I bear my conscience in my will; for death is all I wish. But thy ingratitude bosom, though I were hid where man's eye never so tears my wounded soul, it is worse ten thousaw me, nor light ever dawned, it were all in sand times than death with torture. vain. For, oh! that inmate, that impartial judge, Mill. Call it what you will; I am willing to will try, convict, and sentence me for murder, live, and live secure, which nothing but your and execute me with never-endiog torments. Be- death can warrant. hold these hands, all crimsoned over with my, Barn. If there be a pitch of wickedness that dear uncle's blood! Here is a sight to make a sets the author beyond the reach of vengeance, statue start with horror, or turn a living man in- you must be secure. But what remains for me, to a statue !

but a dismal dungeon, hard galling fetters, an Mill. Ridiculous! Then it seems you are a- awful trial, and an ignominious death, justly to fall unpitied and abhorred: After death to be my credit is superior to thy malice, I need not suspended between heaven and earth, a dreadful have blushed to own him. spectacle, the warning and horror of a gaping Mill. My arts ! I do not understand you, sir : crowd! This I could bear, nay, wish not to if he has done amiss, what is that to me? Was avoid, had it but come from any hand but thine. he my servant, or yours? you should have taught

him better. Enter Blunt, Officer, and Attendants.

Thor. Why should I wonder to find such unMill. Heaven defend me! Conceal a mur- common impudence in one arrived to such a derer! Here, sir, take this youth into your cus-height of wickedness? When innocence is batody. I accuse him of murder, and will appear nished, modesty soon follows. Know, sorceress, to make good my charge. [They seize him. I am not ignorant of any of the arts by which

Barn. To whom, of what, or how shall I com- you first deceived the unwary youth. I know plain? I will not accuse her. The hand of Hea- how, step by step, you have led him on, reluctant ven is in it, and this the punishment of lust and and unwilling, from crime to crime, to this last parricide. Yet Heaven, that justly cuts me off, horrid act, which you contrived, and, by your still suffers her to live; perhaps to punish others. cursed wiles, even forced him to commit. Tremendous mercy! So fiends are cursed with Mill. Ha! Lucy has got the advantage, and immortality, to be the executioners of Heaven! accused me first. Unless I can turn the accusa

Be warned, ye youths, who see my sad despair: tion, and fix it upon her and Blunt, I am lost. Avoid lewd women, false as they are fair.

[Aside. By reason guided, honest joys pursue :

Thor. Had I known your cruel design sooner, The fair, to honour and to virtue true, it had been prevented. To see you punished, as Just to herself, will ne'er be false to you. the law directs, is all that now remains. Poor By my example learn to shun my fate : satisfaction! for he, innocent as he is, compared (How wretched is the man who's wise too late!) to you, must suffer too. But Heaven, who knows Ere innocence, and fame, and life, be lost, our frame, and graciously distinguishes between Here purchase wisdom cheaply, at my cost. frailty and presumption, will make a difference,

(Exeunt Barnwell, Officer, and Attendants. though man cannot, who sees not the heart, but Mill

. Where is Lucy? Why is she absent at only judges by the outward action. such a time?

Mill. I find, sir, we are both unhappy in our Blunt. Would I had been so too! Lucy will servants. I was surprised at such ill treatment, soon be here; aud I hope to thy confusion, thou without cause, from a gentleman of your appeardevil!

ance, and therefore too hastily returned it; for Mill. Insolent! This to me?

which I ask your pardon. I now perceive you Blunt. The worst that we know of the devil have been so far imposed on, as to think me enis, that he first seduces to sin, and then betrays gaged in a former correspondence with your serto punishment.

[Exit. vant, and, some way or other, accessary to his Mill. They disapprove of my conduct then, undoing. and mean to set up for themselves.My ruin Thor. I charge you as the cause, the sole cause, is resolved.--I see my danger, but scorn both of all his guilt, and all his suffering; of all he now it and them. I was not born to fall by such weakendures, and must endure, till a violent and instruments.

[Going. shameful death shall put a dreadful period to his

life and miscries together. Enter THOROWGOOD.

Mill. It is very strange. But who is secure Thor. Where is the scandal of her own sex, from scandal and detraction? So far from conand curse of ours?

tributing to his ruin, I never spoke to him till Mill. What means this insolence! Whom do since this fatal accident, which I lament as much you seek?

as you. It is true I have a servant, on whose acThor. Millwood.

count he hath of late frequented my house. If Mill. Well, you have found her then. I am she has abused my good opinion of her, am I to Millwood.

blame? Has not Barnwell done the same by Thor. Then you are the most impious wretch you? that ever the sun bebeld.

Thor. I hear you; pray go on. Mill. From your appearance I should have Mill. I have been informed he had a violent expected wisdom and moderation; but your man- passion for her, and she for him : but till now I ners belie your aspect. What is your business always thought it innocent. I know her poor, and here? I know you not.

given to expensive pleasures. Now, who can tell Thor. Hereafter you may know me better; I but she may have influenced the amorous youth en Barnwell's master.

to commit this murder to supply her extravaganMill. Then you are master to a villain, which, cies? - It must be so. I now recollect a thouI think, is not much to your credit.

sand circumstances that confirm it. I will have Thor. Had he been as much above thy arts, as her, and a man servant, whom I suspect as an Vol. I.

3 I

accomplice, secured immediately. I hope, sir, count their value by their loss. Another and you will lay aside your ill-grounded suspicions of another spoiler came, and all my gain was poverty me, and join to punish the real contrivers of this and reproach. My soul disdained, and yet disbloody deed.

[Offers to go. dains, dependence and contempt. Riches, no Thor. Madam, you pass not this way: I see nsatter by what means obtained, I saw secured your design, but shall protect them from your the worst of men from both. I found it theremalice.

fore necessary to be rich, and to that end I sumMill. I hope you will not use your influence, moned all my arts. You call them wicked; be it and the credit of your name, to screen such guil- so; they were such as my conversation with your ty wretches. Consider, sir, the wickedness of sex bad furnished me withal. persuading a thoughtless youth to such a crime. Thor. Sure none but the worst of men con

Thor. I do—and of betraying him when it versed with thee. was done.

Mill. Men of all degrees, and all professions, Mill. That which you call betraying him may I have known, yet found no difference, but in convince you of my innocence. She who loves their several capacities; all were alike wicked, to him, though she contrived the murder, would ne- the utmost of their power. In pride, contention, ver have delivered him into the hands of justice, avarice, cruelty, and revenge, the reverend as I, struck with horror at his crimes, have done. priesthood were my unerring guides. From

Thor. How should an unexperienced youth es suburb magistrates, who live by ruined reputations, cape her snares? The powerful magic of her as the inhospitable natives of Cornwall do by wit and form might betray the wisest to simple shipwrecks, I learned, that to charge my innocent dotage, and fire the blood that age had froze long neighbours with my crimes, was to merit their since. Even I, that with just prejudice came protection : for to screen the guilty is the less prepared, had, by her artful story, been deceived, scandalous, when many are suspected ; and but that my strong conviction of her guilt makes detraction, like darkness and death, blackens all even a doubt impossible.—[Aside.)-Those whom objects, and levels all distinction.-Such are subtlely you would accuse, you know are your your venal magistrates, who favour none but accusers; and, which proves unanswerably their such as by their office they are sworn to punish. innocence, and your guilt, they accused you be- With them, not to be guilty is the worst of fore the deed was done, and did all that was in crimes, and large fees, privately paid, are every their power to prevent it.

needful virtue. Mill. Sir, you are very hard to be convinced ; Thor. Your practice has sufficiently discoverbut I have a proof, which, when produced, will ed your contempt of laws, both human and silence all objections. [Erit Millwood. divine; no wonder, then, that you should hate Enter Lucy, TRUEMAN, Blunt, officers, 8c.

the officers of both. Lucy. Gentlemen, pray place yourselves, some

Mill. I know you, and I hate you all; I eron one side of that door, and some on the other; pect no mercy, and I ask for none; I followed watch her entrance, and act as your prudence

my inclinations, and that the best of you do every shall direct you. This way, [To Thorowgood.] day. All actions seem alike natural and inditand note her behaviour. I have observed her; ferent to man and beast, who devour, or are deshe is driven to the last extremity, and is forming

voured, as they meet with others weaker or some desperate resolution. I guess at her design.

stronger than themselves. Re-enter Millwood with a Pistol ; Trueman, sive, daring, and inquisitive, should be a stranger

Thor. What pity it is a mind so comprehensecures her.

to religion's sweet and powerful charms ! True. IIere thy power of doing mischief ends, Mill. I am not fool enough to be an atheist, though deceitful, cruel, bloody woman!

I have known enough of men's hypocrisy to make a Mill. Fool, hypocrite, villain, man! thou thousand simple women so. Whatever religion is canst not call me that.

in itself, as practised by mankind, it has caused the True. To call thee woman were to wrong thy evils you say it was designed to cure. War, plague, sex, thou devil !

and famine have not destroyed so many of the huMill. That imaginary being is an emblem of man race, as this pretended piety has done; and thy cursed sex collected. Ä mirror, wherein with such barbarous cruelty, as if the only way to each particular man may see his own likeness, honour Heaven were to turn the present world and that of all mankiud.

into hell. Thor. Think not, by aggravating the faults of Thor. Truth is truth, though from an enemy, others, to extenuate tħy own, of which the abuse and spoken in malice. Yoa bloody, blind, and of such uncommon perfections of mind and body superstitious bigots, how will you answer this? is not the least.

Mill

. What are your laws, of which you make Mill. If such I had, well may I curse your your boast, but the fool's wisdom, and the coward's barbarous sex, who robbed me of them ere I valour, the instrument and screen of all your vilknew their worth; then left ine, too late, to lanics ? By them you punish in others what you act yourselves, or would have acted, had you been in their circumstances. The judge, who condemns the poor man for being a thief,

had been a thief himself, had he been poor. Thus you go on deceiving and being deceived, harassing, plaguing, and destroying one another. But women are your universal prey.

Women, by whom you are, the source of joy,
With cruel arts you labour to destroy:

A thousand ways our ruin you pursue,
Yet blame in us those arts first taught by you.
Oh, may from hence each violated maid,
By flattering, faithless, barbarous man betrayed,
When robbed of innocence, and virgin fame,
From your destruction raise a nobler name,
To avenge their sex's wrongs devote their mind,
And future Millwoods prove to plague mankind!

[E.reunt,

ACT V:

SCENE I.-A Room in a Prison. proposed reformation, and know me hereafter

for your friend. Enter THOROWGOOD, BLUNT, and Lucy.

Lucy. This is a blessing as unhoped for as unThor. I HAVE recommended to Barnwell a re- merited. But Heaven, that snatched us from imverend divine, whose judgment and integrity I pending ruin, sure intends you as its instrument am well acquainted with. Nor has Millwood to secure us from apostacy. been neglected; but she, unhappy woman, still Thor. With gratitude to impute your deliverobstinate, refuses his assistance.

ance to Heaven is just. Many, less virtuously Lucy. This pious charity to the afflicted well disposed than Barnwell was, have never fallen in becomes your character; yet pardon me, sir, if I the manner he has done. May not such owe wonder you were not at their trial.

their safety rather to Providence than to themThor. I knew it was impossible to save him; selves? With pity and compassion let us judge and I and my family bear so great a part in his him. Great were his faults, but strong was the distress, that to have been present would but temptation. Let his ruin teach us diffidence, huhave aggravated our sorrows without relieving mility, and circumspection : for if we, who wonhis.

der at his fate, had, like him, been tried, like Blunt. It was mournful indeed. Barnwell's himn, perhaps, we had fallen.

[Ereunt. youth and modest deportment, as he passed, drew tears from every eye. When placed at the bar, SCENE II.-A dungeon, a table, and a lamp. and arraigned before the reverend judges, with many tears and interrupting sobs, he confessed

BARNWELL reading. Enter THOROWGOOD and aggravated his offences, without accusing, or

at a distance. once reflecting on Millwood, the shameless au- Thor. There see the bitter fruits of passion's thor of his ruin. But she, dauntless and uncon- detested reign, and sensual appetite indulged; secerned, stood by his side, viewing, with visible vere reflections, penitence, and tears. pride and contempt, the vast assembly, who all, Barn. My honoured, injured master, whose with sympathising sorrow, wept for the wretched goodness has covered me a thousand times with youth. Millwood, when called upon to answer, shame, forgive this last unwilling disrespect. Inloudly insisted upon her innocence, and made an deed I saw you not. artful and a bold defence; but finding all in vain, Thor. It is well; I hope you are better emthe impartial jury and the learned bench concur-ployed in viewing of yourself; your journey is ring to find her guilty, how did she curse herself, long, your time for preparation almost spent. I poor Barnwell, us, her judges, all mankind ! But sent a reverend divine to teach you to improve what could that avail? She was condemned, and it, and should be glad to hear of his success. is this day to suffer with him.

Barn. The word of truth, which he recomThor. The time draws on. I am going to visit mended for my constant companion in this my Barnwell, as you are Millwood.

sad retirement, has at length removed the doubts Lucy. We have not wronged her, yet I dread I laboured under. From thence I have learned this interview. She is proud, impatient, wrathful, the infinite extent of heavenly mercy; that my and unforgiving. To be the branded instruments offences, though great, are not unpardonable; and of vengeance, to suffer in her shame, and sympa- that it is not my interest only, but my duty, to thize with her in all she suffers, is the tribute we believe to rejoice in my hope. So shall Heamust pay for our former ill-spent lives, and long ven receive the glory, and future penitents the confederacy with her in wickedness.

profit, of my example. Thor. Happy for you it ended when it did ! Thor. Proceed. What

you

have done against Millwood, I know, Barn. It is wonderful that words should charm proceeded from a just abhorrence of her crimes, despair, speak peace and pardon to a murderer’s free from interest, malice, or revenge. Prose-conscience; but truth and mercy flow in every Jytes to virtue should be encouraged; pursue your sentence, attended with force and energy divine.

1

will reward you.

llow shall I describe my present state of mind ! Barn. Mercy! Mercy! gracious Heaven! For I hope in doubt, and trembling I rejoice; I feel death, but not for this, I was prepared. my grief increase, even as my fears give way. True. What have I suffered since I saw thee Joy and gratitude now supply more tears than last! What pain has absence given me!

-But, the horror and anguish of despair before. oh, to see thee thus !

Thor. These are the genuine signs of true re- Barn. I know it is dreadful! I feel the anguish pentance; the only preparatory, the certain way of thy generous soul-But I was born to murder to everlasting peace. Oh, the joy it gives to see all who love me !

[Both acep. a soul formed and prepared for Heaven! For this True. I came not to reproach you; I thought the faithful minister devotes himself to medita- to bring you comfort; but I am deceived, for I tion, abstinence, and prayer, shunning the vain have none to give. I came to share thy sorrow, delights of sensual joys, and daily dies, that others but cannot bear my own. may live for ever. For this he turns the sacred Barn. My sense of guilt, indeed, you cannot volume over, and spends his life in painful search know; it is what the good and innocent, like you, of truth. The love of riches and the lust of can never conceive: but other griefs, at present, power, he looks upon with just contempt and de- I have none, but what I feel for you. In your testation; he only counts for wealth the souls he sorrow I read you love me still; but, yet, me wins, and his highest ambition is to serve mankind. thinks, it is strange, when I consider what I am. If the reward of all his pains be to preserve one

True. No more of that; I can remember nosoul from wandering, or turn one from the error thing but thy virtues, thy honest, tender friendof his ways, how does he then rejoice, and own ship, our former happy state, and present misery. his little labours overpaid !

Oh, bad you trusted me when first the fair seBarn. What do I owe for all your generous ducer tempted you, all might have been preventkindness ? But though I cannot, Heaven can and

ed!

Barn. Alas, thou knowest not what a wretch Thor. To see thee thus, is joy too great for I have been. Breach of friendship was my first words. Farewell.—Hleaven strengthen thee! and least offence. So far was I lost to goodness, Farewell.

so devoted to the author of my ruin, that had she Barn. Oh, sir, there is something I would say, insisted on my murdering thee, I think —-I if my sad swelling heart would give me leave. should have done it. Thor. Give it vent a while, and try.

True. Prithee, aggravate thy faults no more. Barn. I had a friend-it is true I am unwor- Barn. I think I should ! Thus good and genethy-yet mcthinks your generous example might rous as you are, I should have murdered you ! persuade-Could not I see him once, before I True. We have not yet embraced, and may be go from whence there is no return?

interrupted. Come to my arms. Thor. He is coming, and as much thy friend as Barn. Never, never will I taste such joys on ever. I will not anticipate bis sorrow; too soon carth; never will I so soothe my just remorse. he will see the sad effect of this contagious ruin. Are those honest arms and faithful bosom fit to This torrent of domestic misery bears too hard embrace and to support a murderer? These iron upon me. I must retire to indulge a weakness I fetters only shall clasp, and flinty pavement bear find impossible to overcome. (Aside.] Much lo- me; [throwing himself on the ground,] even these ved—and much lamented youth !-- Farewell. too good for such a bloody monster. Heaven strengthen thee!

Eternally fare- True. Shall fortune sever those whom friendwell!

ship joined ? Thy miseries cannot lay thee so low, Barn. The best of masters and of men,

-Fare- but love will find thee. Here will we offer to well! While I live let me not want your prayers.

stern calamity; this place the altar, and ourThor. Thou shalt not. Thy peace being made

selves the sacrifice. Our mutual groans shall with Heaven, death is already vanquished. Bear echo to each other through the dreary vault; our a little longer the pains that attend this transitory sighs shall nunber the moments as they pass, and life, and cease from pain for ever.

iningling tears communicate such anguish, as

[Exit Thorou good. words were never made to express. Barn. Perhaps I shall. I find a power within, Barn. Then be it so. [Rising.) Since you that bcars my soul above the fears of death, and, propose an intercourse of woe, pour all your spite of conscious shame and guilt, gives me a griefs into my breast, and in exchange take mine. taste of pleasure more than mortal.

[Embracing.) Where's now the anguish that we Enter TRUEMAN and Keeper.

promised? You have taken mine, and make me

no return. Sure peace and comfort dwell within Krep. Sir, there is the prisoner. [Exi: Keeper. these arins, and sorrow cannot approach me while Barn. Trueman!—My friend, whom I so wish I am here. This too is the work of Heaven; ed to see, yet now he's here, I dare not look upon which, having before spoke peace and pardon to him !

(1 ceps. me, now sends thee to contirm it. Oh, take some True. Oh, Barnwell! Barnwell!

of the joy that overflows my breast !

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