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Serv. 'Tis all in vain,
Go hence, and howl to those that will regard you.

[Exit, shutting the door. J. Sho. It was not always thus; the time has been, When this unfriendly door, that bars my passage, Flew wide, and almost leap'd from off its hinges, 'To give me entrance here; ' when this good house,

Flas pour'd forth all its dwellers to receive me;'
When my approach has made a little holy-day,
And ev'ry face was dress'd in smiles to meet me:
But now* 'tis otherwise; and those who bless'd me,
Now curse me to my face. Why should I wander,
Stray further on, for I can die e'en here!

[She sits down at the door. Enter Alicia in disorder; two Servants following:

Alic. What wretch art thou? whose misery and baseness
Hangs on my door; whose hateful whine of woe
Breaks in upon my sorrows, and distracts
My jarring senses with thy beggar's cry?

J. Sho. A very beggar, and a wretch, indeed;
One driven by strong calamity to seek
For succour here; one perishing for want;
Whose hunger has not tasted food these three days;
And humbly asks, for charity's dear sake,
A draught of water and a little bread.

Alic. And dost thou come to me, to me for bread?
I know thee not-Go-hunt for it abroad,
Where wanton hands upon the earth have scatter'd it,
Or cast it on the waterst-Mark the eagle,
And hungry vulture, where they wind the prey;
Watch where the ravens of the valley feed,
And seek thy food with them I know thee not.

* The times have been,
That, when the brains were out, the man would die,
And there an end: but now, they rise agaio,
With twenty mortal murdere on their crowns,
And push us from our stools.

Macbeth, A.di. S. iv. + “ Cast thy bread upon the waters, for thou shalt find it after many days."

Eccles. XI. I.
* To wind is to scent.
" The dam will wake; and, if she wind you once," &c.

Titus Andronicus, A. IV. S. I, § “ The ravens of the valley”. Prov. XXX. 17.

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J. Sho. And yet there was a time, when my Alicia IIas thought unhappy Shore her dearest blessing, And mourn'd that live-long day she pass'd without me;

When, pair'd like turtles, we were still together,

When, often as we prattled arm-in-arm,'
Inclining fondly to me she has said,
She lov'd me more than all the world beside.

Alic. Ha! say'st thou! let me look upon thee well-
'Tis true I know thee now -Yes, now I know thee!
Thou art that fatal fair, that hated she,
That set my brain a madding. Thou hast robb'd me;
Thou hast undone me-murder! Oh my Hastings!
See his pale bloody head shoots glaring by me!
Give me him back again, thou soft deluderg
Thou beauteous witch-

J. Sho. Alas I never wrong'd you "O! then be good to me; have pity on me;

Thou never knew'st the bitterness of want, • And may'st thou never know it. Oh! bestow

Some poor remain, the voiding of thy table, * ' A morsel to support my famish'd soul.'

Alic. Avaunt! and come not near me

J. Sko. To thy hand
I trusted all, gave my whole store to thee;
Nor do I ask it back; allow me but
The smallest pittance, give me but to eat,
Lest I fall down, and perish here before thee.
Alic. Nay! tell not me! Where is thy King, thy

And all the smiling cringing train of courtiers,
That bent the knee before thee?

J. Sho. Oh! for mercy!

Alic. Mercy! I know it not-for I am miserable.
I'll give thee misery, for here she dwells;
This is her house, where the sun never dawns,
The bird of night sits screaming o'er the roof,
And nought is heard but wailings and lamentings.
Hark! something cracks above; it shakes, it totters!

*“ Desiring to be fed with the crumbs wbich fell from the rich " Man's table."

Luke XVI. 21.


And, see, the nodding ruin falls to crush me!
'Tis fall'n, 'tis here! I feel it on my brain !

61 Serv. This sight disorders her-
62 Serv. Retire, dear lady
And leave this woman-

Alic. Let her take my counsel !
Go to him, woman, thou did'st steal him from me.
I wo' not linger long behind thee here.
A waving flood of blueish fire swells o'er me;
And now 'tis out, and I am drown'd in blood.
Ha! what art thou! thou horrid headless trunk?
It is my Hastings ! See! he wafts me on!
Away! I go! I fly! I follow thee.
< But come not thou with mischief-making beauty
To interpose between us, look not on him,
• Give thy fond arts and thy delusions o'er;
. For thou shalt never, never part us more.'

[She runs off, her Servants following.
J. Sho. Alas! she raves; her brain, I fear, is turn'd.
In mercy look upon her, gracious Heaven,
Nor visit her for any wrong to me.
Sure I am near upon my journey's end;
My head runs round, my eyes begin to fail,
And dancing shadows swim before my sight:
I can no more, [lies down) receive me, thou cold earth!
Thou common parent, take me to thy bosom, **
And let me rest with thee.

Bel. Upon the ground!
Thy miseries can never say thee lower.


afflicted one! thou mourner Whom none has comforted!+ Where are thy friends,

* Timon of Athens, when digging, the earth, A. IV. S. III. callsit" common mother,” and talks of its“ plenteous bosom".

+ " She weepeth sore in the night, and her tears are on her cheeks:

among all her lovers she hath nonte to comfort her; all her friends “ have dealt treacherously with her, they are become her enemies."

Lament. 1. 2. See also v. 21. “ I looked for some to have pity on me, but there was no man; * neither found I any to comfort me."

Psalm LXIX, 21.

The dear companions of thy joyful days,
Whose hearts thy warm prosperity made glad,
Whose arms were taught to grow like ivy round thee,
And bind thee to their bosoms? Thus, with thee,
Thus let us live, and let us die. (they said)
For, sure, thou art the sister of our loves,

And nothing shall divide us.'--Now where are they?
J. Sho. Ah! Belmour, where indeed! They stand

aloof, And view my desolation from afar;* • When they pass by, they shake their heads in scorn,

And cry, behold the harlot and her end!'+
And yet thy goodness turns aside to pity me!
Alas! there may be danger, get thee gone!
Let me not pull a ruin on thy head,
Leave me to die alone; for I am fall'n
Never to rise, and all relief is vain.

Bel. Yet raise thy drooping head; for I am come
To chase away despair: behold! where yonder
That honest man, that faithful, brave, Dumont,
Is hasting to thy aid
J. Sho. Dumont! ha! where!

[Raising herself and looking about.
Then Heaven has heard my prayer. His very name
Renews the springs of life, and chears my soul.
Has he, then, 'scap'd the snare?

Bel. He has, but see-
lle comes unlike to that Dumont you knew,
For now he wears your husband's better form,
And comes to visit


and pardon. * " My lovers and my neighbours did stand looking upon my “ trouble, and my kinsmen stood afar off.” Psalm xxXVIII. 11.

See also XXII. 17. Matt, XXVII. 55. + “ Al} that see me laugh me to scorn; they shoot out tbeir “ lips, and shake their heads,".

Psalm xxII. 7. " All they that pass by clap their hands at thee; they hiss and wag s their head at the daughter' of Jerusalem, saying, Is this the city “ that men called The perfection of beauty, The joy of the whole “ earth?"

Lament, II. 15. Standing afar off for the fear of her torment, saying, Alas, alas,

that great city Babylon,” (“ the mother of harlots,” xvii. 5.) 6. that mighty city! for in one hour is tby judgment come.

Rev, XVIII, 10.

with peace

Enter Shore.
Ji Sho. Speak, tell me! which is he? And oh! what

This dreadful vision! See, it comes upon me
It is my husband-Ah!

[She swoons.
Shore. She faints! support her!
• Sustain her head, while I infuse this cordial
"Into her dying lips—from spicy drugs,
« Rich herbs and flowers, the potent juice is drawn;
6 With wond'rous force it strikes the lazy spirits,
• Drives them around, and wakens life anew.'

Bel. Her weakness could not bear the strong surprize.
But, see, she stirs! and the returning blood
Faintly begins to blush again, and kindle
Upon her ashy cheek-
Shore. So-gently raise her [Raising her up.
J. Sho. Ha! what art thou ? Belmour!
Bel. How fåre you, lady?
J. Sho. My heart is thrill’d with horror-

Bel. Be of courage
Your husband lives! 'Tis he, my worthiest friend
J. Sho. Still art thou there!--still dost thou hover

round 'me!
Oh, save me, Belmour, from his angry shade!*

Bel. 'Tis he himself!-he lives !-look up

J. Sho. I dare not!
Oh! that my eyes could shut him out for ever

Shore. Am I so hateful, then, so deadly to thee,
To blast thy eyes with horror? Since I am grown
A burthen to the world, myself, and thee,+
Would I had ne'er surviv'd to see thee more.

J. Sho. Oh! thou most injur'd-dost thou live indeed?
Fall, then, ye mountains, on my guilty head;
Hide me, ye rocks, within your secret caverns;

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* My Uncle Clarence' angry ghost.

Richard 111. A. III, S. I.
+ That with the world, myself and thee,
I, ere I sleep, at peace may be.

Bp. Keon's Evening Hymn.

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