Maurice.

None may take
The sovereign accent from the lip of fate
And say, this thing is written certainly-
But if I err not, madam,-better promise
Of the clear dawn and the unclouded sunshine,
Ne'er waited on the night. I trust the Jury.
They have no fears to nurse, and seek no favor
As do that class of men, the mean ambitious
Who, for the lowly greed of appetite,

Or hungering for a state they never merit
Cringe with a servile zeal to wealth and numbers,
And nothing show but baseness as they rise.
My faith is in the people.

Widow.

Mine in you, sir.

Maurice. I will deserve your confidence. This person.
Who robb'd you of your fortune, would but vainly
Attempt to bully me. I am no bully,

But something have I in my soul that strengthens
Its courage, when the insolent would dare
Usurp the right that I am set to guard.

Be hopeful, madam. Take no care for the morrow,
Though with the morrow our great trial comes,
God and his angels keep the innocent,

And in his own good season, will redress
Their many wrongs with triumph.

Widow.
Sir, I thank you;-
And this poor child, the child of bitterness,
If not of wrath, shall bless you in her prayers,
That nightly seek her mother in the heavens!
Maurice. [kissing the child.] Your name is Kate,
you tell me a sweet name!

Well, pray for us to-night, Kate. With the morrow,
If my heart's hope do not decieve my heart,
Your prayers shall all be answer'd. I'll think of her,
And of her sweet and innocent face to-morrow,
When striving with her enemy.

Child.

As if you were my father.

I'll pray, sir,

Widow. She has none, sir.

Maurice. Losing or winning, daughter, still in me, Look for a father who will cherish you.

Mercer. But not that he is one whom men fiud prudent

To pass with civil aspect, nor confront

With wrath or opposition. He has power,

Such as few men possess, or dare contend with

Has wealth in great abundance-is perhaps,
Most fearless and most desperate in battle,
Who better loves the conflict with his fellow
Than any gifts that peaceful life could bring.
Endow'd with giant strength and resolution,
And such a shot from five to fifteen paces
As still to shatter, waving in the wind,
The slenderest wand of willow.

And though I feel not like solicitude
With that you show for me, am grateful for it!
I am a man who in pursuit of duty
And now, sirs, let us understand each other:

Will hold no parley with that week day prudence
Which teaches stili how much a virtue costs.
Of this man, Blasinghame, I've heard already,-
Even as you both describe him. It would seem,
Lest I should fail in utter ignorance,

He took a patient trouble on himself,

To school me in his virtues. Read this letter. [gives letter.
Mercer. His hand!-his signature!

Brooks. It is. I know it. [they read.
Maurice. Well, gentlemen, you see it written there,
What are my dangers, if I dare to venture

Widow. Farewell, good sir, I have not words to thank This widow's cause against him. Favor me,

you.

Maurice. You have a heart that overflows with speeech,
And swells into your eyes! No more, dear madam,
Be hopeful and be happy. [Exeunt widow and child.
We must gain it.

The proofs are clear—I cannot doubt the issue,-
And still a prescient something at my heart,
Awakes its triumph with assuring accents
That never spoke in vain. But what are these.
[Enter Col. Mercer and Col. Brooks.

Welcome gentlemen.
Mercer. We trust, sir, that you see in us your friends.
Maurice. Such, since our brief acquaintance you have
seemed sir,

And mine's a heart preferring to confide,

That still would rather suffer wrong of faith,
Than not believe in man.

Mercer.

And read the answer which has just been written.
Mercer. [reads aloud.] Sir:-The suit of Pressley vs
Blasinghame will be prosecuted to conclusion without re-
gard to consequences, with the best strength and abilities

of

Maurice. It is brief, sir.
Mercer. Too brief.

Brooks.

NORMAN MAURICE.

"Tis a defiance!
Maurice. 'Twas meant so, gentlemen. I am a man,
Or I am nothing! This poor widow's cause,
The very insolence of this Blasinghame,
Has made my own! I'll die for it if it need be.
Mercer. Art principled 'gainst the duel?
Maurice.
Rather ask,

If, when my enemy takes me by the throat,
I do oppose him with an homily.
No man shall drive me from society,

You'll find us true; I take the laws I find, of force, and use them,

And thus it is, that, sure of our good purpose,

We come to counsel with you as a friend.

For my protection and defence, as others
Employ them for assault.

Becomes a virtue in a case like this,
And the brave heart, untaught in human practice,
Finds good assurance from another source
That prompts its action right-This letter's written
And goes within the hour. Let Blasinghame
Chafe as he may, and thunder to the terror,
Of those who have no manhood in themselves,
He thunders at these portals still in vain!
To morrow comes the trial-after that!—
But let the future wear what look it may,
I'll find the heart to meet it-as a man!

Mercer.
Maurice.

In conflict with the sea.
Mercer.

Then you are firm?

Humbled my pride when at its height, and crushed me,
Until I learned to loathe myself, as being

So feeble in his grasp.

Osborne.

He curses you no longer!

Warren. Can I forget the past? This memory Becomes a part of the nature o' the man,

And of his future makes fearful aspect,

Unless he cures its hurts. My path is where
My enemy treads in triumph! I shall seek it,
And 'twill be hard if hate, well leagued with cunning,
Is baffled of his toil. I seek St. Louis!

Osborne. Beware! You'll make him desperate!
Warren.
I hope so!
Osborne. It brings its perils with it! Norman Maurice
If he be not wary!

As are the rocks, Will rend his hunter!-
Warren.

We joy to find you thus!
We'll stand by you through danger to the last.
Brooks. Ay, Maurice, we are with you.
Maurice.
Friends, your hands!

I am not used to friendship but I love it,

As still a precious gift, vouchsafed by heaven,
Next best to love of woman! For this danger,-
Fear nothing! we shall 'scape it! Nay, 'twill give us,
Or Truth is not of God, new plumes for triumph.

SCENE II.

But fear you nothing. You shall go with me,
And see how deftly, with what happy art,

I shall prepare the meshes for my captive.
Osborne. Me! go with you?-and wherefore?
Warren.
A small matter!-
While I shall drive the nail, you'll clinch the rivet.
I'd have you there to prove this document!
Osborne. Spare me this, Warren!

Osborne. I do not hate this man! He hath not wrong'd
me,

Cross'd not my path, nor with a better fortune,
Won from me aught I cherish'd.
Warren.

Enough! Enough!

The law office of Richard Osborne. Osborne discovered Me hath he robb'd and wrong'd-me hath he cross'dwriting.

To him enter Warren.

His better fortune still a fate to mine!

Warren. We're on the track at last. Look at that My injury is yours! You love me, Osborne,—

He's not the man whom fortune can keep under.
Warren. What! you forget our precious document.
Osborne. You will not use it now?
Warren.

Ah! will I not then?

If ever useful, now's the right time for it!
See you not that he rises like an eagle,
Already is in practice with the ablest,

With popular favor without working for it,
And stands i' the way of better politicians.
They fit his name to music for bad singers,
To whom none listen save at suffrage time;-
We'll spoil the song for him.

Osborne.
What would you do?-
Warren. Thou art dull. Dick Osborne! Have I yet
to tell you,

Warren.
Matthews, who writes me, is an ancient friend
Who knows this Maurice well. He sees himn often,
Though it would seem that Maurice knows not him.
His rising fortunes favor you! 'Twere well
You sought your niece. You are her kinswoman,-
The nearest,-and the loss of all your fortune,
By failure of the Bank-

Warren. And should he die ?-Should accident, or-
Mrs. J.
I see! I see!

Warren. You are my friend, and you will show her-
Mrs. J.
Ah! trust me, Robert Warren-
That's enough!

Warren.

We understand each other. You will go,-
Her only kinswoman, to seek her out.

You have but her in the world! Say you have err'd;
It was because you loved her that you strove,
'Gainst one, who, whatsoe'er his worth and talent,
Was not o'erbless'd by Fortune! He may frown,
But cannot well deny you; and, for Clarice-
She will not, sure, repel her mother's sister.

Mrs. J. I'll go! I need the succour of my kindred.
Warren. We'll meet then; but you will not know me
there!

'Tis not my policy to vex my rival,
Provoke suspicion, move his jealousy,
Or startle her by any bold renewal,

Of pleadings late denied. Should you discover
That he who, in their presence, stands before you,
Is other than he seems, you will know nothing,
Since that may spoil your game as well as mine.
Mrs. J. You are a deep one!
Warren.

When I have your counsel!
This Maurice thought but humbly of your judgment;
He knew you not as I do. He was blinded
By his own proud conceit and arrogance,
And held himself an oracle. "Twere wise
If still you suffer'd him to fancy thus-
Check'd him in nothing-never counsell'd him-
For still I know he holds your wisdom cheaply,
And scorns the experience which might rise against
His own assured opinion. Such a person
Needs but sufficient chord-

He scorns me,-does he? He shall feel me still.

SCENE IV.

The Hall in the Cottage of Norman Maurice. Timemidnight. Enter Maurice in night-gown, as just started from his couch. His hair dishevelled—his manner wild and agitated-his whole appearance that of a man painfully excited and distressed.

Maurice. That I should be unmann'd! That a mere dream,

The blear and frightful aspects of a vision,

Should rouse me to such terror,-shake my soul
From the strong moorings of a steadfast will,
And drive it, a mere wreck, upon the seas,
No hand upon the helm. Ah! my Clarice.

[Enter Clarice.

Clarice.

There is nothing, husband-
The hearth holds only the sinall jar of flowers.
Maurice. The reptile ever seeks such crouching place,
And garbs his spotty hide with heedless blossoms,
That knows not what they harbor. Fling it hence!
'Twas on the hearth it crouch'd. But hear me, wife,
That dream! 'Twas of a serpent on our hearth,
Thou heedless, with thy face upon the flowers,
Disposing them for show. Unseen and slow,
And thou, meanwhile was sleeping. I beheld,
It coil around me with its mazy folds,
Even at the moment when the reptile's fang
Was darting at thy cheek! 'Twas then I shriek'd
And rush'd upon the monster thus, and smote,-
[Dashing the vase to pieces.
Heedless of every sting, I trampled it,
But even as it writhed beneath my heel,
Methought, it lifted up a human face
[Exit Warren. That looked like Robert Warren.

And he shall have it!

Mrs. J.
Warren. I'll seek your counsel soon, and you shall
teach me

What is our proper action. You will find me
More ready to confide in your experience,
Than him whose cunning seem'd to baffle it.
Farewell then, madam, 'till we meet again.

Maurice. These are instincts of the soul,
That have a deep and true significance,

And, though no more in danger from his malice,
I feel within me that he works unsleeping,
In venomous toils against me.
Clarice.

Come, Norman, come to bed.

But in vain.

You frighten me.

To Ferguson's defeat.

Before the Jury?

Matthews. Ay, every way-before the judge and jury,-
In court and out of court. At public meetings
They were in opposite ranks, and with each issue,
Maurice has risen still in popular favor,

While Ferguson declines. It will rejoice us,
If, as you say, you have some history

Maurice. Forgive me! There! I have thee at my To floor this powerful foe!

lips

I grieve thee! I will forget this vision, in the blessing This grasp makes real to rapture. Let us in. [He folds his arm about her, and they leave the apart ment, he still looking behind him suspiciously-she looking up at him.

SCENE V.

Enter

The

Warren.

You need not doubt it.

But who are friends to Maurice, here,-the people?
Matthews. Were it the people only, it were nothing.
But here their sympathies are held by others,
Men of much wealth and some ability,

Who gladly in this Maurice find an ally,

And join with him to use him. There's a party
Who long have lack'd a leader. Norman Maurice
Brings them the head they seek. He guides their councils,
And with such prudent skill and policy
That still they fancy he is but their mouthpiece,
Even while he gives the breath of life to them.
I know that they will run him for the Senate.
Warren.

Matthews.

Can they elect him?
It is very doubtful!

They never yet succeeded with their man,
Not having had the man to make success.
What they can do for him is not the question,
So much, as what he may achieve for them.
I tell you though not fearful for the issue,

The edge of a wood. A cottage in the distance.
Robert Warren, Osborne, and Harry Matthews.
former disguised with false hair, whiskers, &c.
Matthews. [pointing to cottage,] There, we may see If it be true, indeed, that,―

it now!

It makes us something anxious. Now, this secret

Warren.

Be you ready;

This danger, for you too must see the danger,-
To feed this foolish malice.

Warren, [aside to O.] Is it foolish ?-
Not when the profit's yours, the pleasure mine ;-
And I, if fortune mocks me not with fancies,
Shall find a pleasure in the game I play at,

That you may never dream of! Be you easy

There's little danger! I've securities

'Gainst him in you, and in his secret fears,
Not less than in the policy I use;

Maurice. Then sing for me, I'm in the mood for music; My heart is glad; my thoughts would wander freely;

Osborne. His own, though now it seems not. I've an Commencing with the indistinct, but sweet.