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True. I do, I do. Almighty power! how hast | fect, that beauty and death, ever at enmity, now thou made us capable to bear at once the ex- seem united there. tremes of pleasure and of pain.

Barn. I groan, but murmur not. Just Hea

ven! I am your own; do with me what you Enter KEEPER.


Mar. Why are your streaming eyes still fixed Keep. Sir.

below, as though thou wouldst give the greedy True. I come.

[Erit Keeper. earth thy sorrows, and rob me of my due ! Were Barn. Must you leave me? Death would soon happiness within your power, you should bestow have parted us for ever.

it where you pleased; but in your misery I must True. Oh, my Barnwell! there's yet another and will partake. task behind. Again your heart must bleed for Barn. Oh, say not so, but fly, abhor, and leave others woes.

me to my fate! Consider what you are, how vast Barn. To meet and part with you I thought your fortune, and how bright your fame. Have was all I had to do on earth. What is there pity on your youth, your beauty, and unequalled more for me to do or suffer?

virtue; for which so inany noble peers have sighed True. I dread to tell thee, yet it must be in vain. Bless with your charms some honourable known ! Maria

lord. Adorn with your beauty, and by your exBarn. Our master's fair and virtuous daugh- ample improve, the English court, that justly


claims such merit: so shall I quickly be to you— True. The same.

as though I had never been. Barn. No misfortune, I hope, has reached Mar. When I forget you, I must be so indeed. that inaid ! Preserve her, Heaven, from every ill, Reason, choice, virtue, all forbid it. Let women, to shew mankind that goo:lness is your care,

! like Millwood, if there are more such women, True. Thy, thy misfo tunes, my unhappy friend, smile in prosperity, and in adversity forsake. Be have reached her. Whatever you and I have felt, it the pride of virtue to repair, or to partake, the and more, if more be possible, she feels for you. ruin such have made.

Barn. I know he doth abhor a lie, and would True. Lovely, ill-fated maid! Was there ever pot trifle with his dying friend. This is indeed such generous distress before? How must this the bitterness of death.

[Aside. pierce his grateful heart, and aggravate his woes! True. You must remember (for we all observed Barn. Ere I knew guilt or shame, when forit), for some time past, a heavy melancholy tune smiled, and when my youthful hopes were weighed her down. Disconsolate" she seemed, at the highest; if then to have raised my thoughts and pined and languished from a cause unknown; to you, had been presumption in me never to have till, hearing of your dreadful fate, the long-stifled been pardoned, think how much beneath yourself flame blazed out; she wept, and wrung her hands, you condescend to regard me now! and tore her hair, and, in the transport of her Mar. Let her blush, who, proffering love, ingrief, discovered her own lost state, while she la- vades the freedom of your sex's choice, and

meanly sues in hopes of a return. Your inevitaBarn. Will all the pain I feel restore thy ease, ble fate hath rendered hope impossible as vain. lovely unhappy maid! [Weeping Why did you Then why should I fear to avow a passion so just not let me die, and never know it?

and so disinterested ? True. It was impossible. She makes no se- True. If any should take occasion from Millcret of her passion for you; she is determined to wood's crimes to libel the best and fairest part see you ere you die, and waits for me to intro- of the creation, here let them see their error. duce her.

[Erit Trueman. The most distant hopes of such a tender passion Barn. Vain, busy thoughts, be still! What from so bright a maid, might add to the happiavails it to think on what I might have been! Iness of the most happy, and inake the greatest now am what I have made myself.

proud : yet here 'tis lavished in vain. Though by

the rich present the generous donor is undone, he Enter TRUEMan and Maria.

on whom it is bestowed receives no benefit.

Barn. So the aromatic spices of the east, True. Madam, reluctant I lead you to this which all the living covet and esteem, are with dismal scene. This is the seat of misery and guilt. unavailing kindness wasted on the dead. Here awful justice reserves her public victims. Mar. Yes, fruitless is my love, and unavailing This is the entrance to a shameful death. all my sighs and tears. Can they save thee from

Mar. To this sad place then, no improper approaching death? From such a death? Oh sorguest, the abandoned lost Maria brings despair

, row insupportable ! Oh, terrible idea! What is and sees the subject and the cause of all this her misery and distress, who sees the first, last world of woe. Silent and motionless he stands, object of her love, for whom alone she would as if his soul had quitted her abode, and the life- live, for whom she would die a thousand thouless form alone was left behind; yet that so per- sand deaths, if it were possible, expiring in her

mented yours.

arms ? Yet she is happy when compared to me. Then must you own, you ought not to complain, Were millions of worlds mine, I would gladly Since you nor weep, nor shall I die in vain. give them in exchange for her condition. The

[Exeunt Barnwell and Officers. most consummate woe is light to mine. The last of curses to other miserable maids, is all I ask for relief, and that's denied me.

SCENE III.—The place of execution. my True. Time and reflection cure all ills.

The Gallows and Ladder at the farther end of Mar. All but this. His dreadful catastrophe virtue herself abhors. To give a holiday to sub

the Stage. A crowd of spectators, Blunt and

Lucy. urb slaves, and passing entertain the savage herd, who elbowing each other for a sight, pursue and Lucy. Heavens ! what a throng! press upon him like his fate! A mind, with piety Blunt. How terrible is death, when thus preand resolution armed, may smile on death: But

pared! public ignominy, everlasting shame, shame, the Lucy. Support them, Heaven! Thou only death of souls ! to die a thousand times, and yet canst support them; all other help is vain. survive even death itself in never-dying infamy- Officer. [Within.] Make way there; make way, Is this to be endured! Can I, who live in him, and give the prisoners room. and must each hour of my devoted life feel all Lucy. They are here: observe them well.these woes renewed-Can I endure this? How humble and composed young Barnwell

True. Grief has so impaired her spirits, she seems! but Millwood looks wild, ruffled with pants as in the agonies of death.

passion, confounded, and amazed. Barn. Preserve her, Heaven, and restore her peace, nor let her death be added to my crimes. Enter BARXWELL, MILLWOOD, Officers and Er(Bell tolls.] I am summoned to my fate.


Barn. See, Millwood, see, our journey is at an Enter KEEPER.

end! Life, like a tale that's told, is passed away.

Thąt short, but dark and unknown passage, Keep. Sir, the officers attend you. Millwood death, is all the space between us and endless is already summoned.

joys, or woes eternal. Barn. Tell them, I am ready. And now, my Mill. Is this the end of all my flattering hopes? friend, farewell. (Embracing.) Support, and Were youth and beauty given me for a curse, and comfort, the best you can, this mourning fair.— wisdoin only to ensure my ruin? They were, they No more-Forget not to pray for me. "[Turn- were. Heaven, thou hast done thy worst. Or, ing to Maria.] Would you, bright excellence, if thou hast in store some untried plague, somepermit me the honour of a chaste embrace, the what that is worse than shame, despair, and last happiness this world could give were mine. death, unpitied death, confirmed despair, and [She inclines towards him, they embrace.] Exal- soul-confounding shame; something that men ted goodness! Ob, turn your eyes from earth and and angels cannot describe, and only fiends, who me to Heaven, where virtue, like yours, is ever bear it, can conceive; now, pour it now on this heard ! Pray for the peace of my departing soul. devoted head, that I may feel the worst thou Early my race of wickedness began, and soon I canst inflict, and bid defiance to thy utmost reached the summit. Ere nature has finished her power. work, and stainped me man, just at the time Barn. Yet ere we pass the dreadful gulf of when others begin to stray, my course is finished. death, yet ere you are plunged in everlasting woe, Though short my span of life, and few my days, Oh, bend your stubborn knees, and harder heart, yet count my crimes for years, and I have lived humbly to deprecate the wrath divine! Who

Thus justice, in compassion to knows, but Heaven, in your dying moments, may mankind, cuts off a wretch like me; by one such bestow that grace and inercy which your life desa example to secure thousands from future ruin.— pised ! Justice and mercy are in Heaven the saine: its Mill. Why name you mercy to a wretch like utmost severity is mercy to the whole; thereby me? Mercy is beyond my hope, almost beyond to cure man's folly and presumption, which else my wish. I cannot repent, nor ask to be forwould render even infinite mercy vain and inef- given, fectual.

Barn. Oh, think what 'tis to be for ever, ever If any youth, like you, in future times, miserable, nor with vain pride oppose a power, Shall mourn my fate, though he abhors my that is able to destroy you! crimes,

Mill. That will destroy me; I feel it will. A Or tender maid, like you, my tale shall hear, deluge of wrath is pouring on my soul. Chains, And to my sorrows give a pitying tear;

darkness, wheels, racks, sharp-stinged scorpions, To each such melting eye and throbbing heart, molten lead, and whole seas of sulphur, are light Would gracious Heaven this benefit impart, to what I feel. Never to know my guilt, nor feel my pain, Barn. Oh, add not to your vast account de

whole ages.

spair! a sin more injurious to Heaven, than all Mill. Encompassed with horror, whither must you have yet committed.

I go? I would not live—nor die- - That I could Mill. Oh, I have sinned beyond the reach of cease to be or ne'er had been ! mercy!

Barn. Since peace and comfort are denied her Barn. Oh, say not so: it is blasphemy to here, may she find mercy where she least expects think it. As yon bright roof is higher than the it, and this be all her hell! From our example earth, so, and much more, does Heaven's good- may all be taught to fly the first approach of ness pass our apprehension. Oh, what created vice : but if o'ertaken, being shall presume to circumscribe mercy,

that By strong temptation, weakness, or surprise, knows no bounds!

Lament their guilt, and by repentance rise ; Mill. This yields no hope. Though pity may The impenitent alone die unforgiven : be boundless, yet it is free. I was doomed, be- To sin's like men, and to forgive like Heaven. fore the world began, to endless pains, and thou

[Ereunt. to joys eternal. Earn. Oh, gracious heaven! extend thy pity

Enter TRUEMAN. to her; let thy rich mercy flow in plenteous streams, to chase her fears, and heal her wounded Lucy. Heart-breaking sight!-oh, wretchsoul!

ed, wretched Millwood! Mill

. It will not be: your prayers are lost in True. How is she disposed to meet her fate? air, or else returned, perhaps, with double bles- Blunt. Who can describe unutterable woe? sings, to your bosom : they help not me.

Lucy. She goes to death encompassed with Barn. Yet hear Millwood !

horror, loathing life, and yet afraid to die. No Mill. Away, I will not hear thee: I tell thee, tongue can tell her anguish and despair. youth, I am by Heaven devoted a dreadful in- True. Heaven be better to her than her fears! stance of its power to punish. (Barnwell seems May she prove a warning to others, a monument to pray.] If thou wilt pray, pray for thyself, not of mercy in herself.

How doth his fervent soul mount with his Lucy. Oh, sorrow insupportable ! Break, break, words, and both ascend to Heaven ! that Heaven, whose gates are shut with adamantine bars True. In vain, against my prayers, had I the will to pray.

I With bleeding hearts, and weeping eyes, we cannot bear it. Sure 'tis the worst of torments

show, to behold others enjoy that bliss which we must A humane, generous sense of other's woe;

Unless we mark what drew to ruin on, Officer. The utmost limit of your time is expi- And, by avoiding that -prevent our own. red.

[Ereunt omnes



my heart!

never taste.






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