CONSTANTIA. Oh! Lucia, Lucia, I shall die with terrours-- What can these noises mean? [A groan is heard.] Heard you that groan?

LUCIA. Sure life expir'd with it!--A woman's voice--

Enter hastily WILSON and GOODWIN, THOMAS and other Servants, at which CONSTANTIA and LUCIA shriek.

CONSTANTIA. Protect us, heaven!--what are you?

WILSON. A messenger, In utmost hurry rous'd us from our beds, And pray'd us to haste hither with all speed, To save a family.

CONSTANTIA. Oh sirs!--heav'n grant 'Tis not too late--some sad event, I dread-- [A groan, and then another]

They're from the room where Mrs. Andrews sleeps. [CONSTANTIA swoons, and is taken of with LUCIA.]

Enter MARIA.

MARIA. Woe! woe unutterable!--fights of horrour!

All welt'ring in their gore--haste! haste with me. [They go off.]

[Back Scene opens and discovers Mrs. ANDREWS's bedchamber-- Lord BELMOUR on the ground with his sword in his hand b.l.o.o.d.y, and Mr. ANDREWS with his also drawn and b.l.o.o.d.y, in a fix'd posture, resting on it, and looking on the ground.]

GOODWIN. O heav'n! what havock's here! [To ANDREWS] Alas!

my friend, What have you done?

WILSON. He's quite insensible.

Perhaps this woman can inform us--speak--

MARIA. I will, I will. Hearing the bell twice rung With violence unusual from the chamber In which my mistress lay, I thither flew; Where entering, with amazement I beheld Lord Belmour there, and her upon her knees: Sudden, my master, with an unsheath'd sword In rage rush'd in, and instantly a.s.sail'd him, (Who also had drawn his) they fought awhile; When with a hideous groan lord Belmour reel'd, Bit quick recovering, with doubled fury At his a.s.sailant made--when, she, quite wild, Rush'd on lord Belmour's sword, and fell with him.

WILSON. 'Tis better done by him, than by our friend.

ANDREWS. Done--What done? all is not done as yet--this--

[He is going to stab himself, GOODWIN and WILSON rush on him, and wrest his sword from him.]

GOODWIN. What would your madness do? too much already, This fatal scene exhibits to our view.

ANDREWS. Deaf, deaf to all,--away,--away with counsel!-- 'Tis clear as noonday light--burst--burst, my brain!--

Lord BELMOUR. Listen--oh listen to a dying criminal-- Your wife is innocent--I, I alone--

ANDREWS. Peace, villain, peace!--how came you in her chamber?

Lord BELMOUR. Without her knowledge--Oh! 'twas by that woman, [Pointing to MARIA]

My vile accomplice in the soul attempt.

MARIA. Mercy! O mercy! and I'll tell the whole.

Oh! she is innocent--I, all to blame--

WILSON. 'Tis fit a magistrate be sent for instantly; As also meet a.s.sistance to these wounded, Who seem to need it much. [A servant goes off.]

Lord BELMOUR. Good sirs!

Let me be hence convey'd--I can't escape-- And heav'n will in some moments give full justice. [He is led out.]

ANDREWS. And let me also fly these scenes of horrour, Or I shall wilder be than the chain'd wretch That beats the dungeon walls.

[As he is pa.s.sing by Mrs. ANDREWS, she seizes the skirt of his coat.]

Mrs. ANDREWS. Oh sir!--my husband!--

ANDREWS. Take! take the vile adultress from my sight.

Mrs. ANDREWS. For charity, forbear those bitter words.

True, I have injur'd you beyond all hopes Either of your indulgence, or heav'n's mercy.

But by that Pow'r! before whose just tribunal, I shortly shall be summon'd to appear, My soul abhors the base imputed guilt, (How strong soe'er appearance speak against me) Ev'n in thought.

ANDREWS. Abandon'd, faithless woman!

Oh! that her foul disgrace clos'd with her eyes!

Then might I undisturb'd behold this havock. [Aside]

Did not I, find you on your knees to him?

Mrs. ANDREWS. I was beseeching him to leave the room.

ANDREWS. How came he there?

Mrs. ANDREWS. By the same Pow'r supreme!

You're not yourself of that event more ignorant.

Soon as my woman for the night had left me, He from the closet rush'd into my chamber.

ANDREWS. Oh! I have been too hasty--much too rash.------

Mrs. ANDREWS. You will not think so, when you hear the whole.

The wretched n.o.bleman, you now have punish'd, Is not less guilty than if I had yielded.

Yet, think not that I mean t' acquit myself; My conduct led him to the vile attempt: And, oh! with rage and thirst of vengeance fir'd, I was too busy in th' infernal plot, Contain'd in that false letter to your friend, The honest, gen'rous, and most faithful Wilson.

I also had your old and trusty steward Accus'd of crimes to which he was a stranger; And Jefferson to me owes his perdition.

ANDREWS. Cease! cease! pour self-convicting mourner, cease!-- This cannot be--'tis the sick fancy's dream.

Mrs. ANDREWS. Oh! that it were untrue, as thou art kind.

Yes; this, all this, and more I have committed.

I have undone thee--I, thy bosom's favourite,-- And am the fatal source of all these horrors.

But my swift hast'ning fate will be some recompence.-- I bleed within apace, and grow most faint------ How happy was I once, and how ungrateful!

ANDREWS. 'Tis, 'tis too much--

Mrs. ANDREWS. Alas! I see it is.-- How these reflections rack my madding brain!-- Turn, Oh! turn that tender aspect from me!

'Tis worse than scorpion rods, or whips of steel.

Abhor me; scorn me; tear me from thy fondness, And every imprecation pour upon me: For hope is fled, and I would court despair.

Some suff'rings here might lessen those hereafter, I would not covet else a moment's life.--

ANDREWS. Would I could sooth her tortur'd soul to rest!