Frank. Yes, I will prove it, And you shall confess it. You are my whore, 'Tis all mine own: your marriage was my theft; The devil did not prompt me: till this minute,' You might have safe return'd; now you cannot. You have dogg'd your own death. Sus. And I deserve it; I'm glad my fate was so intelligent: [Stabs her. "Twas some good spirit's motion. Die? oh, 'twas timé ! How many years might I have slept in sin, [The] sin of my most hatred, too, adultery! Frank. Nay sure 'twas likely that the most was past; For I meant never to return to you After this parting. Sus. Why then I thank you more; You have done lovingly, leaving yourself, Thou art my husband, Death, and I embrace thee With all the love I have. Forget the stain 7 The Devil did not prompt me.] This is the pointing of the old copy; but it can scarcely be correct; for, in fact, the Devil did prompt him. We might read: The Devil did not prompt me till this minute : Of my unwitting sin; and then I come A crystal virgin to thee: my soul's purity Shall, with bold wings, ascend the doors of Mercy; For innocence is ever her companion. Frank. Not yet mortal? I would not linger you, Or leave you a tongue to blab. [Stabs her again. Sus. Now heaven reward you ne'er the worse for me! I did not think that death had been so sweet, better, Had I stay'd forty years for preparation; [Dies. Frank. 'Tis done; and I am in! once past our height, We scorn the deep'st abyss. This follows now, To heal her wounds by dressing of the weapon.3 Arms, thighs, hands, any place; we must not [Wounds himself. Light scratches, giving such deep ones: the best I can ..fail This follows now, To heal her wounds by dressing of the weapon.] The allusion to this silly superstition is vilely out of place, and shows Frank to be (what indeed the whole of his previous conduct confirms) a brutal, unfeeling villain. To bind myself to this tree. Now's the storm, Which, if blown o'er, many fair days may follow. Binds himself to a tree; the Dog ties him behind, and exit. So, so! I'm fast; I did not think I could. Have done so well behind me. How prosperous Effectual mischief sometimes is!-[Aloud.]-Help! help! Murder, murder, murder! Enter CARTER and Old THORNEY. Car. Ha! whom tolls the bell for? Thor. Ah me! The cause appears too soon; my child, my son. Car. Susan, girl, child! not speak to thy father? ha! Frank. Oh lend me some assistance to o'ertake This hapless woman. Thor. Let's o'ertake the murderers. Speak whilst thou canst, anon may be too late; As pulls damnation up if it be broke; I dare not name 'em: think what forced men do. Thor. Keep oath with murderers! that were a conscience To hold the devil in. Frank. Nay, sir, I can describe 'em, His satin doublet white, but crimson lined; Warbeck!-do you list to this, sir? Car. Yes, yes, I listen you; here's nothing to be heard. Frank. The other's cloak branch'd velvet, black,' velvet lined his suit. Thor. I have them already; Somerton, Somerton! Binal revenge, all this. Come, sir, the first work Is to pursue the murderers, when we have Remov'd these mangled bodies hence. Car. Sir, take that carcase there, and give me this. I will not own her now; she's none of mine. Thor. Alas! what grief may do now! Look, sir, I'll take this load of sorrow with me. [Exit, with SUSAN in his arms. 9 The other's cloak branch'd velvet,] i. e. with tufts, or tassels, dependent from the shoulders; somewhat like the gowns worn at present by vergers, beadles, &c. Car. Ay, do, and I'll have this. How do you, sir? Frank. O, very ill, sir. Car. Yes, I think so; but 'tis well you can speak yet : SCENE III.-Before Sir ARTHUR'S House. Enter Sir ARTHUR CLARINGTON, WARBECK, and SOMERTON. Sir Ar. Come, gentlemen, we must all help to grace The nimble-footed youth of Edmonton, That are so kind to call us up to-day With an high Morrice. War. I could wish it for the best, it were the worst now. Absurdity is, in my opinion, ever the best dancer in a morrice. Som. I could rather sleep than see them. Sir Ar. Not well, sir? Som. Faith not ever thus leaden; yet I know no cause for't. War. Now am I, beyond mine own condition, highly disposed to mirth. |