Gorges Edmond Howard

“ MARIA. I cannot—O! I must not. JEFFERSON. Why? MARIA. Her honour. JEFFERSON. Say, are you truly serious in this matter? Or, but amusing me with idle hopes? MARIA. Pray have you ever found me such a trifler? JEFFERSON. I cannot say I have, and yet—— MARIA. Yet, what? JEFFERSON. Her virtue! MARIA. Why you are virtuous, yet cannot avoid This passion for the loveliest of women: Nor may she be insensible to you. No youth more wins our sex's admiration. Among the rest, the beauteous, gentle Lucia, In secret languishes: it is too plain: Though ev'ry art be practis'd to conceal it. ”

“ Some grinn'd in rage, some tore their hair, whilst others, Upon their knees, with hands and eyes uplifted, In curses dar'd assail all-ruling Providence Under the varied names of Fate and Fortune. Nor is there one in the black list of crimes, Which these infernals seem'd not prompt to perpetrate, Whilst on a cast their trembling fortunes hung. ANDREWS. O Wilson! every passion, every power Of the great human soul are by this vice, This fatal vice of all, quite, quite absorb'd, Save those which its fell purposes excite! Oh! that most vile seducer lady Belmour! ”

“ O Jefferson! would I cou'd tear thee hence, From this fond heart, and its lost peace restore!—- But soft! I hear my dear Constantia's voice. Enter CONSTANTIA. CONSTANTIA. O Lucia! I'm of women most unhappy; No more must I of that chos'n youth have hope, In whom my ev'ry thought, my soul is center'd. LUCIA. You quite astonish me—it cannot be. Even the day was fix'd for your espousals. CONSTANTIA. O! but lord Belmour, his relentless uncle, Hath just now charg'd my father, that henceforth His visits here be countenanced no more; Vowing most solemnly, that shou'd we wed, He'd disinherit him. ”

“ And 'tis most fit, my lord, you should comply. He is your uncle, and can much befriend you. Lord WESTON. O my Constantia! cruel, dear Constantia! Can'st thou conceive that any earthly views, Could for the loss of thee requite an heart, That cannot form a bliss from heav'n without thee? By that chaste passion, which no time can alter! Not mines of wealth, nor all life's splendid pomp, Can weigh with me against that worth of soul, With which thou art enrich'd so far above All others of thy sex I yet have seen, Far as thy beauteous form excels them all. ”

“ O guilty! every thing confirms it. Had my sworn enemy distress'd me thus, Time might have sooth'd the anguish of my soul; But oh! what mode of patience can endure To find the traitor in my bosom friend! GOODWIN. Rather think him innocent. ANDREWS. Yet how? Did not the blush of conscience mark his visage? The thought, the very thought, inflames to madness. GOODWIN. He seem'd surpriz'd, but shew'd no sign of guilt. 'Twere better sure, to sift this matter calmly; Passion but mars the purpose it pursues. ANDREWS. O! cou'd I hope for doubt! GOODWIN. You've known him long? ”

“ MARIA. I see you are as obstinate as usual, And still persist in your old-fashion'd ravings. Does not experience daily prove that wealth Alone gives honour; poverty disgrace? THOMAS. All this concerns this transient world alone; Nor is it worth a single moment's thought. A slender pittance, earn'd by honest industry, Surpasses mines of wealth acquir'd by fraud. MARIA. It cannot sure be wrong to make reprisals! Hath she not got in loan from us our earnings From time to time, nor heeds our pressing calls? ”

“ They are too much for weakness to endure. ANDREWS. No, no, I'll watch thee whilst a single spark Of that lov'd life remains, and sooth thy woes. Mrs. ANDREWS. Too kind!—Forbear!—Were your fond wish indulg'd, It would but add new weight to your afflictions. Oh! agonizing thoughts!—Oh! my pour soul!— ANDREWS. She droops; she dies—and oh! by saving me— Physicians, surgeons, ev'ry help be sent for!— Mrs. ANDREWS. 'Twere fruitless all unless their friendly aid Some balm could minister to deep despair— Rage on, distress—-haste, madness! ”

“ Should but the modest blush, the fault'ring speech, Or the disorder of the conscious soul, Betray the fondness it would fain conceal; Not only cold indifference, but neglect, Is full too oft the base return we meet.— CONSTANTIA. Ha! Lucia! whence these fears? am I despis'd? What have I done! I have betray'd myself. O! I conjure thee, by the sacred tie Of honour, friendship, confidence and love, Speak nought of this, but leave me to despair! LUCIA. Alas! 'tis my poor heart betrays itself. [Aside] Why to despair? ”

“ Mrs. ANDREWS. How happy am I in this honour'd favour! You know my loss at play for some time past Hath been prodigious; it hath reach'd my husband. Lady BELMOUR. Were I in your case, that should not disturb me. Is not the jealous dotard twice your age? Such incidents shou'd more confirm my empire. Nay, my offence shou'd be his accusation, Nor wou'd I rest until he shou'd acknowledge The fault was his, not mine; so, rouse your spirits. Mrs. ANDREWS. Impossible, I've injur'd him too deeply; Have lost with his esteem, his love for ever. Lady BELMOUR. Then farewel further intercourse between us. ”

“ Lord BELMOUR. Since then all soothing arguments are fruitless; 'Tis fit t' apprize you that you yet remain Under my wardship by your father's will; And now to wed would be by law a nullity. Lord WESTON. Unrighteous, partial law! whose keen restraint 'Gainst female innocence alone is pointed, Whilst villains riot in its spoils unpunish'd; So that love's chaste, connubial joys no more, On its fleet wings, but in the tardy pace Of sordid interest move. But, thank kind heaven! My will is free to choose; else, my good lord, The parish proofs deceive. Lord BELMOUR. Perish all love! ”

“ CONSTANTIA. O sir! how you alarm me! heav'n! what fears? ANDREWS. Constantia singled out, preferr'd to numbers Of the first rank, who would exult to win him, Will rouse up ev'ry baneful blast of envy, Perfections such as thine ne'er 'scape malignity. CONSTANTIA. The example of that honour to her sex, My dear lost mother, with the wholesome lessons Instill'd by you, will so direct my steps, I may those blasts escape your fondness fears. ANDREWS. Yet, should this change in your condition happen, This also treasure in your mind; that man, As in his frame, so is his spirit rough ”

“ That she who best submits will surest reign; In youth be idolized, in age revered. But when perverse contention marks her conduct, And passion's transitory joys are pall'd, The past offence will to the mind recur, And all that once had charm'd be quite forgot. CONSTANTIA. Good heav'n! of two such parents make me worthy. Enter MARIA. ANDREWS. Some message from my wife—withdraw awhile. CONSTANTIA. [As she goes off] Alas! I fear some deep distress affects him. ANDREWS. Where is your mistress? MARIA. In her chamber, sir. ANDREWS. Go tell her I am here, and wish to see her. MARIA. Good sir! ”

“ ANDREWS. Condemn not all for some; and prize their worth. By them we are refin'd; by them inspir'd; For them, we ev'ry toil and danger court, That lead to glory and make fame immortal. Trust me, my friend, there's no terrestrial blessing Equals the union of two souls in virtue. WILSON. Your wife was then but Young? ANDREWS. About sixteen, And I in years superiour to her father. Yet she appear'd of such congenial manners With my first wife, whose intimate she was, It led me to this early second marriage. And ev'n long after, such was her behaviour, That I insensibly forgot my loss ”

“ WILSON. I hope 'twill speedily be in my power, As 'tis my wish sincere, to give you joy On the most happy marriage of your daughter. Andrew. A thousand thanks! 'twas to have been to morrow, But is postponed a while. WILSON. There is no prize, Wealthy, or noble, which she doth not merit. ANDREWS. Again I thank my friend; but tell me wherefore, We meet not now as we were wont? time was When scarce a single day knew us asunder; Of late we're so for weeks. WILSON. Where lies the blame? You then were us'd to join your happy friends, In all their harmony and mirthful innocence ”

“ WILSON. Deluded, undone man! How this insidious woman hath depriv'd him Of that sage judgment which he once possess'd! GOODWIN. Where is the letter? ANDREWS. Unluckily destroy'd. WILSON. And are these all the grounds on which you charge An old and faithful friend with such a breach Of virtue, honour, and of all that's worthy? O most abandon'd woman! weak as wicked. ANDREWS. Recal your words, base slanderer, else this hand Shall pluck forth the rude tongue that utter'd them. GOODWIN. Forbear, I pray! you will alarm my family. WILSON. [To GOODWIN.] This is too much for ev'n a brother's bearing. ”

“ Oh! tell me, how, or when I've been thine enemy, That thou could'st calmly mean me all this mischief. I cannot credit it. JEFFERSON. 'Tis, 'tis too true— [Weeps.] ANDREWS. I once thought Jefferson the child of virtue. JEFFERSON. To fix me such, your lessons were not wanting. But oh! when we indulge one vicious passion, A train of others unforeseen will follow, Until at length all virtue is extinguish'd. ANDREWS. What's to be done! distress crowds on distress——— Inhuman! barbarous! most abandon'd woman! ”

“ I know a truer flame was ne'er profess'd: A fondness which commenced in his apprenticeship, Here in this house, then but the late lord's nephew, Nor next in heirship to estate or title. MARIA. And sure all must approve his well-judg'd choice! In charms and virtues there are none surpass her. THOMAS. Heav'n grant my fears are groundless! but, Maria, To think on what of late I daily see, Afflicts my soul. MARIA. What is't your fears suggest? ”

“ Know, sir, That through the world, an honest British trader Esteem and honour meets. But, were I lower Than vanity directs you to conceive me, And you of the first rank; where freedom reigns, You have no right to offer me such insult. Lord BELMOUR. Talk not of rank to one who loves as I do; The pride of kings beneath those eyes might languish, And prostrate thus, and trembling wait their sentence. [He falls on his knees, seizes her hand, which she forces from him.] Mrs. ANDREWS. What have you seen in my deportment, sir, To warrant this intrusion? 'tis unworthy. ”

“ True joys dwell only with united hearts, And solitude is far the wiser choice Than wedlock where domestic bliss is absent. How vain is then the hope of such delights With those of Fashion's stamp, whose only merit, Is, that they are of this all-conqu'ring sex, Of ev'ry other excellence regardless? Lord BELMOUR. Again, young lord, I tell you, shou'd you wed With the first merchant's daughter of the world, 'Twould to your lineage be disgrace for ever. Lord WESTON. Disgrace lies only in the want of virtue, That excellence, in which she most abounds. ”

“ Your stock I see, is not a little weighty. Cou'd you supply me with five hundred more For a few hours? I have no doubt to treble them, At a small party, I expect this instant: And I'll repay them gratefully this evening At lady Meldmay's, where we are to meet. I, and three more this morning hold a bank; In which, if you wou'd choose to share a chance, Fortune perhaps might favour you this way. Mrs. ANDREWS. Not now; but here's the further sum you wish for; And fail not to repay it as you promise. 'Tis but a part of what I owe to others. Lady BELMOUR. I wou'd not disappoint you for the world. ”

“ MARIA. I tell you, madam, 'tis the height of fondness. A fever, that he lately had, in which His ceaseless ravings were of you, confirm'd 'it. He shuns all company, neglects his food, And wanders often, as would one insane. Mrs. ANDREWS. Astonishment! MARIA. He cannot quit the house His 'prenticeship has full two years expir'd, And twice he hath prepar'd him for the Indies. ”

“ Lord WESTON. Nor hath the soil been faithless to its trust. CONSTANTIA. Could you then hope from an unduteous daughter, To meet in wedded state, the due compliance Heav'n hath ordain'd, or I expect its blessings? You would yourself on serious thoughts condemn me. Lord WESTON. [He falls on his knees.] How far thou soar'st above all human excellence! And how thy virtues raise those peerless charms! I have transgress'd—-but Oh! vouchsafe thy pity! It was the zeal of fondness, and the fear Of losing thee, that urg'd me to the question, Which hath thy delicacy so offended. CONSTANTIA. O! ”

“ Reflect too, that your income is unequal To that high rank in life, it shou'd support. Lord WESTON. The more I lose, the more I prize myself, In persevering thus—-but, my lov'd uncle! What can impede the progress of my bliss, When your consent hath sanctified my choice? Lord BELMOUR. What though I yielded once to your fond suit, It is now rumour'd, and by all believ'd, Not only that her father is reduc'd To bankruptcy and want, but that the whole Of the large fortune which an uncle left her Is wasted with the rest. Lord WESTON. Is this her fault? Is she to suffer for another's act? ”

“ ANDREWS. Again, 'tis false. GOODWIN. O! my good friends, forbear; I've heard too much. Permit me then to speak between you both. What is affirm'd on one side, on the other As firmly is denied: wherefore, it lies On him who made the charge to shew his proof. ANDREWS. Then, at your instance only;—'twas a letter, From my ill-fated wife to this deceiver, Which on the way by accident I seiz'd; Wherein th' attempts he made (advantage taking Of the distress her indiscretion caus'd) To his adult'rous purpose to seduce her, Are manifest. ”