vailed upon the wretched youth to promise -- what I
tremble but to think on.
|ing tempest lost, the cruel, artful Millwood pre ||65|
BLUNT. I am amazed! What can it be?
LUCY. You will be more so, to hear it is to attempt
|the life of his nearest relation and best benefac ||70|
BLUNT. His uncle! whom we have often heard him
speak of as a gentleman of a large estate and fair
character in the country where he lives.
sessed of the last dear purchase of his ruin, but her
avarice, insatiate as the grave, demanded this horrid
sacrifice. Barnwell's near relation and unsuspected
virtue must give too easy means to seize the good
|LUCY. The same. She was no sooner pos ||75|
ful secret and prevent the terrors of her guilty fears.
|man's treasure, whose blood must seal the dread ||80|
BLUNT. Is it possible she could persuade him to do
an act like that? He is, by nature, honest, grateful,
compassionate, and generous; and though his love
practise what he most abhors, yet we all can witness
for him with what reluctance he has still complied!
So many tears he shed o'er each offence, as might, if
possible, sanctify theft, and make a merit of a crime.
|and her artful persuasions have wrought him to ||85|
his uncle he started into rage, and, breaking from her
arms, where she till then had held him with well-
dissembled love and false endearments, called her
'cruel, monster, devil,' and told her she was born for
|LUCY. 'Tis true, at the naming the murder of ||90|
pose to meet his rage with rage, but affected a most
passionate fit of grief -- railed at her fate and cursed
her wayward stars, that still her wants should force
her to press him to act such deeds as she must needs
|his destruction. She thought it not for her pur ||95|
no law, and love no bounds; that therefore he never
truly loved, but meant, in her necessity, to forsake
her; then kneeled, and swore that since, by his refusal, he had given her cause to doubt his love, she
|abhor as well as he: but told him necessity had ||100|
true, he robbed his uncle to supply her wants, and
murdered him to keep it from discovery.
|never would see him more, unless, to prove it ||105|
BLUNT. I am astonished! What said he?
LUCY. Speechless he stood; but in his face you
very soul. Oft he, in anguish, threw his eyes towards
heaven, and then as often bent their beams on her;
then wept and groaned, and beat his troubled breast.
At length, with horror, not to be expressed, he cried:
|might have read that various passions tore his ||110|
proofs of love? What drew me from my youthful
innocence, to stain my then unspotted soul, but love?
What caused me to rob my worthy gentle mater,
but cursed love? What makes me now a fugitive
|'Thou cursed fair! have I not given dreadful ||115|
by all the world, but love? What fills my eyes with
tears, my soul with torture never felt on this side
death before? Why, love, love, love! And why,
above all, do I resolve (for,' tearing his hair, he cried,
|from his service, loathed by myself, and scorned ||120|
|'I do resolve) to kill my uncle?'||125|
BLUNT. Was she not moved? It makes me weep
to hear the sad relation.
LUCY. Yes -- with joy, that she had gained her
point. She gave him no time to cool, but urged him
performs it and escapes, there's more money for her;
if not, he'll ne'er return, and then she's fairly rid of
|to attempt it instantly. He's now gone; if he ||130|
BLUNT. 'Tis time the world were rid of such a
LUCY. If we don't do our endeavors to prevent
this murder, we are as bad as she.
BLUNT. I'm afraid it is too late.
LUCY. Perhaps not. -- Her barbarity to Barnwell
length with her already. I did not think her or
myself so wicked as I find, upon reflection, we are.
|makes me hate her. We have run too great a ||140|
BLUNT. 'Tis true, we have all been too much so.
But there is something so horrid in murder, that all
that. I would not be involved in the guilt of that
for all the world.
|other crimes seem nothing when compared to ||145|
LUCY. Nor I, heaven knows; therefore, let us clear
ourselves by doing all that is in our power to prevent
seems probable. Will you join with me to detect
this curs'd design?
|it. I have just thought of a way that, to me, ||150|
BLUNT. With all my heart. He who knows of a
murder intended to be committed and does not dis
|cover it, in the eye of the law and reason is a ||155|
LUCY. Let us lose no time; I'll acquaint you with
the particulars as we go. Exeunt.
A walk at some distance from a country seat.
BARN. A dismal gloom obscures the face of day;
either the sun has slipped behind a cloud, or journeys
down the west of heaven with more than common
speed, to avoid the sight of what I'm doomed to act.
I tread, methinks, the solid earth trembles beneath
my feet. Yonder limpid stream, whose hoary fall
has made a natural cascade, as I passed by, in doleful
accents seemed to murmur 'Murder.' The earth,____________________
|Since I set forth on this accursed design, where'er ||5|
Questia, a part of Gale, Cengage Learning. www.questia.com
Book title: British Dramatists from Dryden to Sheridan.
Contributors: George Henry Nettleton - Editor, Arthur Eillicot Case - Editor.
Publisher: Boston ; Houghton Mifflin company,..
Place of publication: Boston; New York.
Publication year: 1939.
Page number: 616.
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