Jane Shore - LightNovelsOnl.com
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Thou art that fatal fair, that cursed she, That set my brain a madding. Thou hast robb'd me; Thou hast undone me--Murder! O, my Hastings!
See his pale b.l.o.o.d.y head shoots glaring by me!
Avaunt; and come not near me--
_Jane S._ 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 Edward, And all thy cringing train of courtiers, That bent the knee before thee?
_Jane S._ 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, Grim spectres sweep along the horrid gloom, And nought is heard but wailings and lamentings.
Hark! something cracks above! it shakes! it totters!
And see the nodding ruin falls to crush me!
'Tis fall'n, 'tis here! I felt it on my brain!-- Let her take my counsel: Why shouldst thou be a wretch? Stab, tear thy heart, And rid thyself of this detested being: I wo' not linger long behind thee here.
A waving flood of bluish 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. [_runs off._
_Jane S._ Alas! she raves; her brain, I fear, is turn'd; In mercy look upon her, gracious heav'n, 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.
_Enter Belmour._
_Bel._ Upon the ground!
Thy miseries can never lay thee lower.
Look up, thou poor afflicted one! thou mourner, Whom none has comforted! Where are thy friends, 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.
Now where are they?
_Jane S._ Ah, Belmour! where, indeed? They stand aloof, And view my desolation from afar!
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--
_Jane S._ Dumont! Ha! where? [_raising herself, and looking about._
Then heav'n has heard my pray'r; his very name Renews the springs of life, and cheers my soul.
Has he then 'scap'd the snare?
_Bel._ He has; but see---- He comes, unlike to that Dumont you knew, For now he wears your better angel's form, And comes to visit you with peace and pardon.
_Enter Sh.o.r.e._
_Jane S._ Speak, tell me! Which is he? And oh! what would This dreadful vision! See it comes upon me-- It is my husband----Ah! [_she swoons._
_Sh.o.r.e._ She faints! support her!
_Bel._ Her weakness could not bear the strong surprise.
But see, she stirs! And the returning blood Faintly begins to blush again, and kindle Upon her ashy cheek--
_Sh.o.r.e._ So--gently raise her-- [_raising her up._
_Jane S._ Ha! what art thou? Belmour!
_Bel._ How fare you, lady?
_Jane S._ My heart is thrill'd with horror--
_Bel._ Be of courage-- Your husband lives! 'tis he, my worthiest friend--
_Jane S._ 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--
_Jane S._ I dare not!
Oh! that my eyes could shut him out for ever--
_Sh.o.r.e._ Am I so hateful then, so deadly to thee, To blast thy eyes with horror? Since I'm grown A burden to the world, myself, and thee, Would I had ne'er surviv'd to see thee more.
_Jane S._ 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; Cast thy black veil upon my shame, O night!
And s.h.i.+eld me with thy sable wing for ever.
_Sh.o.r.e._ Why dost thou turn away?----Why tremble thus?
Why thus indulge thy fears? and, in despair, Abandon thy distracted soul to horror?
Cast every black and guilty thought behind thee, And let 'em never vex thy quiet more.
My arms, my heart, are open to receive thee, To bring thee back to thy forsaken home, With tender joy, with fond forgiving love.
Let us haste, Now while occasion seems to smile upon us, Forsake this place of shame, and find a shelter.
_Jane S._ What shall I say to you? But I obey--
_Sh.o.r.e._ Lean on my arm----
_Jane S._ Alas! I'm wondrous faint: But that's not strange, I have not eat these three days.
_Sh.o.r.e._ Oh! merciless!
_Jane S._ Oh! I am sick at heart!----
_Sh.o.r.e._ Thou murd'rous sorrow!
Wo't thou still drink her blood, pursue her still?
Must she then die? O my poor penitent!
Speak peace to thy sad heart; she hears me not: Grief masters ev'ry sense--
