]
ACT IV
SCENE--A desolate prospect--a ridge of rocks--a Chapel on the summit of
one--Moon behind the rocks--night stormy--irregular sound of a
bell--HERBERT enters exhausted.
ACT IV
SCENE--A desolate prospect--a ridge of rocks--a Chapel on the summit of
one--Moon behind the rocks--night stormy--irregular sound of a
bell--HERBERT enters exhausted.
Wordsworth - 1
MARMADUKE Thou art a Woman
To bring perdition on the universe.
IDONEA Already I've been punished to the height
Of my offence.
[Smiling affectionately. ]
I see you love me still,
The labours of my hand are still your joy;
Bethink you of the hour when on your shoulder
I hung this belt.
[Pointing to the belt on which was suspended HERBERT'S scrip. ]
MARMADUKE Mercy of Heaven! [Sinks. ]
IDONEA What ails you? [Distractedly. ]
MARMADUKE The scrip that held his food, and I forgot
To give it back again!
IDONEA What mean your words?
MARMADUKE I know not what I said--all may be well.
IDONEA That smile hath life in it!
MARMADUKE This road is perilous;
I will attend you to a Hut that stands
Near the wood's edge--rest there to-night, I pray you:
For me, I have business, as you heard, with Oswald,
But will return to you by break of day.
[Exeunt.
]
ACT IV
SCENE--A desolate prospect--a ridge of rocks--a Chapel on the summit of
one--Moon behind the rocks--night stormy--irregular sound of a
bell--HERBERT enters exhausted.
HERBERT That Chapel-bell in mercy seemed to guide me,
But now it mocks my steps; its fitful stroke
Can scarcely be the work of human hands.
Hear me, ye Men, upon the cliffs, if such
There be who pray nightly before the Altar.
Oh that I had but strength to reach the place!
My Child--my Child--dark--dark--I faint--this wind--
These stifling blasts--God help me!
[Enter ELDRED. ]
ELDRED Better this bare rock,
Though it were tottering over a man's head,
Than a tight case of dungeon walls for shelter
From such rough dealing.
[A moaning voice is heard. ]
Ha! what sound is that?
Trees creaking in the wind (but none are here)
Send forth such noises--and that weary bell!
Surely some evil Spirit abroad to-night
Is ringing it--'twould stop a Saint in prayer,
And that--what is it? never was sound so like
A human groan. Ha! what is here? Poor Man--
Murdered!
