Representative American Plays/Superstition/Act 3

Scene 1. An open Wood. {Enter Charles, followed hy Edward.)

Charles. Give me the sword; remain at

the edge of the wood; If any one approach, haste to inform me. {Exit Edward.) I am here first, 'tis well. My mother

thinks It is a softer interview I seek ; And while she cautioned me, her sad smile

seem'd To sanction what she fear'd. My dear,

kind mother. And should I fall — well : it would be my

fate. We are but barques npon the sea of life. And when the storm is up, we greet the

port, ​Or meet the rock, as destiny determines, Spile of our feeble efforts. Mary, too! These thouuhts are not in season. Here 's my man.

{Enter George Egerton, hastily.)

Well met, sir. George. Sir, I kiss your hands. I' faith, I 've had a race to get here. My wise

uncle Hung- round me like a bride in the first

month — Or rather like a wife in the second year, When jealousy commences. — Come on, sir. Charles. Best breathe awhile; I have the

advantage of you. George. You will not keep it long. My greater skill Will give me still the odds. Charles. It may be so.

Yet you may be deceived. My masters

flattei^d Or I, too, have some science. George. I 'm glad of it ;

For you 're a pretty fellow, and deserve To fall with credit. Come, sir, to your

guard. We shall be interrupted. Charles. Better so,

Than that we fight unfairly. You pant still, sir. George. You are a soul of honour, and, were 't possible — But no ; the person of an Egerton Must never be profan'd. Come, Sir, en garde. Charles. If you will have it so. George. I will.

Charles. Come on then.

[They fight. George is wounded.) George. I 'm pink'd egad ; who would have thought it? ^S' death! I 'm out of practice. Charles. Here, Sir, on this bank.

Your head against this tree — Your

wound 's not deep I hope. How feel you now? George. I' faith, but faintly.

{Enter Edward.)

Edw. There is a gentleman approaching.

Sir. George. It is my uncle, like a keen old sportsman. In at the death. Pry'thee begone, my

friend, 'T were well you were not known. Charles. This handkerchief —

So, press it close — I '11 haste to send you

aid.— But for the lady's fame, and your own

honour. The cause of this our meeting is a secret. George. It shall be so : I thank you. But

away!

{Exeunt Charles and Edward.) That's a fine lad. But where i' the

devil's name, Leam'd he to fence? I wonder, now I

think on 't, Who '11 write my epitaph. My uncle

can't, He has no genius. I would do 't myself. Had I an amanuensis: let me see — Hie jacet — {Faints.)

{Enter Sir Reginald.)

Sir R. Gracious Heav'n, what is this !

My nephew bleeding, dead! no, he but faints.

With loss of blood. Soft, he revives; why, nephew —

My poor mad George, how fares it? George. How d' ye, uncle ?

Is 't day or night ? Faith my eyes twin- kle strangely. Sir R. Cheerly, George, cheerly, we '11 do well enough, —

What shall I do? — But how came this about?

Was't fairly done? George. According to the rules.

Should I die, uncle, and my adversary

E'er be discover'd, testify for him —

He kill'd me like a gentleman and Chris- tian. Sir R. a duel! ah, George, George. But zounds! do the roundheads

Fight duels too ! a pretty school I 've chosen

To teach you prudence in! will no one come!

{Enter Two Men, with a Bier.)

Ah, you are welcome, set it down, so, so. George. A pretty ominous conveyance,

this. Sir R. I pry'thee hold thy peace, and get

thee in. George. A gTain of opium now, were worth a jewel, Uncle, I '11 never fight again without it. Sir R. Be quiet, George — you waste your strength. So, so. {The men take him up and are about moving.) ​George. Head foremost if you please, my worthy friends; 'Tis but fair play — heels first perhaps, to-morrow. {The men carry him a few paces.) Halt, if it please ye, gentlemen, one mo- ment. Two hobbles more and I 'm defunct. —

Pray, general. Drill those recruits to the step. In camp,

now, uncle, It were a pleasure to be carried out. Sir R. Wilt hold thy peace then ? George. Yes. — The left foot, uncle —

Sir R. Now, gentlemen, at the word "march" lift up The left foot each of you, and so move on. George. Right, uncle. Sir R. Hold your tongue. March !

George. Ay; so, so.

{Exeunt.)

Scene 2. The Village.

{Enter Charles and Edward.)

Charles. Can it be true! the savages so

near? Edw. It is so said.

Charles. Edward, do you return,

And see the unfortunate gentleman I

wounded Placed in security. I '11 hasten home.

{Exit Edward.)

My first care is my mother — then for

Mary! {Exit Charles.)

{Enter Walford, meeting Alice.)

Walf. A\nienee this alarm f Alice. father, we are lost.

A hunter has come in nigh dead with

speed, With tidings that the savages are coming. Walf. How near?

Alice. Alas ! a few miles from the village. Walf. Is 't possible ! can they have thus eluded Our watchful troops! we must prepare — welcome!

{Enter Ravensworth.)

Heard you the fearful tidings. Ravens- worth? Ray. I have, and will you now believe., our sins

Bring these afflictions on us? We have

murderei-s Lurking among us. Walf. How !

Rav. This moment pass'd me.

The relative of the Knight, Sir Reginald ; Dying, or dead. Walf. Whose was the act?

Rav. Whose was 't?

The act of him, whose every act is crime. The son of this dark woman. Walf. How is it known ?

Rav. His sword and handkerchief stain'd both with blood. And mark'd with his vile name, were

found in the wood. He has not Jbeen one day yet in the vil- lage, And lo! these visitations. On the in- stant He must be dealt with. Walf. First for our defence —

What do you counsel? Rav. Prayer and sacrifice.

Walf. 'T is too late now, we must take other means.

{The Villagers enter, exhibiting signs of wild affright.)

Walf. Hark ye, my friend, have messen- gers been sent To warn the seatter'd settlers round? 1st Villa. They have.

Walf. Why rings not the alarum bell ! 1st Villa. I know not,

Unless the exposed position of the church — Walf. Go, some of you and do it. — Hasten, friends, Seize every man his arms.

{Exeunt Villagers.)

Rav. Behold where comes

In all her pride, one of the moving causes

Of all this horror — mark with what an

air. How tranquil and compos'd she looks

around Upon the growing evil — safe, 'midst the

fury Of her own tempest.

{As he speaks; Enter Isabella; the women shrink from her in fear. Alice gazes upon her with interest; Ravensworth fixes his eyes sternly upon her. She remains unmoved.) Walf. Ravensworth, forbear.

Is this a time. —

[Enter 2d Villager.) ​Now, friend, what news have you"? 2d Villa. They have begun to issue from the wood. —

{Enter Sir Reginald.)

Sir R. What is this I hear? the savages approaching- ! Now plague upon this gout ! — But I 've

an arm left That yet can wield a sword. Walf. Your nephew, Sir,

May need your care. You 're strange to our wild warfare. Sir R. True ; I 'd forgot poor George. They '11 cut thro' me Before they get a hair of him. {Retires.)

{Re-enter 1st Vill*ager.)

Walf. How now?

1st Villa. We 've rallied at the church ; but want a leader.

Walf. You shall not want one longer.

Alice. 0, my father!

Walf. Heav'n bless you, my dear daugh- ter. Follow me. {Exit Walford, followed hij Vil- lagers. Distant yell. The alarm hell rings, a feiv distant and strag- gling shots heard. Houses at a dis- tance beginning to blaze; — a pause of the hell.)

Ray. Now, where 's your son ?

Isa. Gone, Sir, to save your daughter.

Ray. My daughter ! I 'd forgot. — Is she not here. {Runs wildly around. Bell rings. The shots are nearer and more fre- quent. The blaze increases.)

Ray. My daughter! where, where 's my daughter !

{Enter Charles, hearing Mary.)

Charles. There, Sir.

(Rayensworth receives her, and for a moment yields to his paternal feel- ing. But instantly withdraws from Charles with a scowl. Charles, after affectionately recognizing his mother, rushes out. Alice joins Mary; who is prevented from ad- dressing Isabella, by her father's frown. Isabella maintains her dig- nity and composure. Alarm con- tinues, shouts, yells, etc.)

{The Villagers enter in disorder, followed by Charles and Walford.)

Charles. One effort more.

Walf. It is impossible,

Panic has seiz'd them all and we must perish. {The bell has ceased. A dreadful yell. The Villagers turn and are about to fly in despair, when

Enter the Unknown.)

Unk. Turn back for shame — as ye are men, turn back!

As ye are husbands, fathers, turn, and save

From death and violation those ye love. —

If this not move you, as ye are Chris- tian men

And do believe in God, tempt not his wrath

By doubting thus his providence. Be- hold

I am sent to save you. Omnes. Save us, save us.

Walf. Say,

What shall we do ; we 're ready to obey thee. Unk. Front then and bear yourselves like men — 'T is well.

The savage sees us rally; and the pause

His caution grants, secures us the advan- tage. {He passes rapidly along the line, di- viding them into three bodies. Then addresses Walford and Charles.)

This band be yours — this yours — Quick, lead them forth.

And each by a rapid circuit, turn the foe

By either flank. This will I lead myself

Against his front — holding him thus in check

Until I hear the horn sound your ar- rival —

Then while perplex'd he hesitates be- tween us.

Rush to the onset all — close on the heathen.

And shower destruction on him — haste away. {Exeunt Unkxov^n, Walford and Charles, leading their bands.) Isa. How awful is this pause, that but precedes

The shock that may o'erwhelm us. God, to thee.

The mother turns. Not for myself,

Not for my sinful self — ^but for my son —

My innocent son I plead. Cut him not off

In the blossom of his days. , Ray. Mark, if the hag ​Mutter not, even now, her incantations.

{A few scattering shot heard.) The fronts have met, and from the forest

coverts, Exchange their cautious fire.

{A bugle sounds, answered hy another from a different quarter. Shouts, Yells, a general and continued dis- charge of musketry. Shouts and bugles.) Ray. The crisis has arrived — the fire has ceased, And now the closer work of death com- mences. Ascend yon tree, and say what thou ob- servest.

{To a boy, icho ascends the tree.) Boy. I see them now. The Indians stand dismay'd. We 're pouring now upon them from the

forest. From every side. — Now, now the Indians

turn — They meet — they close — they're strug- gling man to man. Sword, knife and tomahawk are glanc- ing. ISA. Heaven !

Protect, protect my Charles! Alice. Save my dear father. {Shout.)

Rav. What shout is that? Hear ye the

savage yellt Boy. No, no, 't was ours, — we 've con- quer'd — and they come, Dragging their prisoners with them. Here 's my father.

{Enter 1st Villager shouting "Victory," meets and caresses the boy.)

{General Shout, Bugles. Enter Wal- FORD, Charles, Villagers, with In- DiA^q- Prisoxers. They arrange themselves on each side; the Indians in the background. Charles flies to his mother, luho sinks on her knees in his embrace. Alice joins her fa- ther, various groups formed. Mary manifests much interest for Charles, who regards her tenderly. Ravexsworth preserves his suspi- cious and reserved demeanour.)

{Enter the UxKXOWx. He passes down the centre. All gaze on him luith awe, and stretch forth their hands towards him, bending their bodies.)

UxK. No; not to me this homage — net to man

Is your this day's deliverance owing.

There— ^ To heaven address your gratitude. To

God Stretch forth your hands and raise your

swimming eyes. Before Jehovah bend your bodies down, And from your humble hearts pour out

the flood Of Thankfulness. It was his care that

watch'd His eye that saw; his arm that smote the

heathen — His be the praise and glory.

{All bend in adoration. The Ux-

KXOWN casts a glance at Isabella,

and exclaims as he goes out,)

Yes; 'tis she. {Exit Uxkxowx.) {After a short pause, they raise their

heads and look around anxiously for

the UxKXOWX".)

{Enter Sir Reginald.)

Walf. Has this thing been'? Where is

he? did he pass you? Sir R. Who?

Walf. Our mysterious leader —

Sir R. I saw him not.

Walf. Was 't an earthly being ? Alice. my father!

It was not mortal. Charles. In the fight his arm,

Like the fierce lightning wither'd where it fell. Sir R. You speak of wonders ! Rav. Woman, what think you —

Was it an angel — or a fiend? Walf. What mean you?

(Isabella turns from him proudly. Charles represses his anger on ex- changing glances with Mary.) Rav. You '11 know anon. Walf ord, you bleed. {Crosses to Walford.)

Walf. A trifle.

Rav. He does not bleed — Walf. I think not ; yet he dar'd

The thickest of the fight. Rav. Can you not see?

Do you but mark? Walf. Your meaning is most dark.

Rav. The murkiest night must fly before the day; Illusion, strong as Hell must yield to

Truth. You understand me not — No matter —

come — Let these vile heathens be securely plac'd To await their certain death — then to the temple — ​There, to the Throne of Mercy to present

Our sacrifice of prayer and of thanksgiving.

{Exeunt Charles, Isabella, and others.)