LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA DAVIS EI.4.A Chivers, Tl Conrad and Eud 1834. XEROX lomas Holley ora. Phila., ICU Jniversity Microfilms Library Services Arbor. Michigan 48106 CONRAD AND EUDORAj TIIE DEATH OP ALONZO. 60- -? IN FIVE ACTS. urmntm o? IV KBJITVCKT : .V? BT THOIlAi nOLLEY CniVE| If . D. . II . I . .* r S ' ,V* v * 4 . * ' * fHILADRLPIIIA. Ift34. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFOR1JIA DAVIS v> > * * . \ % V A o c c c ( C C. C C C *v - :> . . : c ,- C 8 t > ^ D 1 o a ',<'"'. * e -i c , .r> . ^ * 69103 DH AMATI3 PERSONS. ALOW to, Eudora'i tfttuctr. Co W R A l, U '//<> A'///* ,7/0/1 TO. Hit LAM HO. ALFRED. ALVKB. I) AH HT, fin KIAR. ^/i fnnJtrfprr. fY/irfur, Uwrnl*, Judge, Jury, Jailor, Juttitri, Uc. i , Connur iriff. K i. v i H A , /liu/tini'i mot fur. A N . . u M , Jlonzo'i wife. 02 t: CONRA1? AND EUDORA; ot, THE DEATH OF A LOS ZO. IN FIVE ACTS. ACT X. SCENE I. FrankM. a ritlap on the Kentucky rfor. Jttonzo and Eudora walking in tin evening. ALOVIO. Tun lower world, lay* Shakspeare, is a stage, Where every mortal act* a comic part \ Who, now and then, in Tragedies engage, Which break up every fountain of the heart! For marriages have been so long the rago* Kach actor seems to play it with an art; For common tilings have never fail'd to sate us, Till something should succeed to reinstate us. ' Eudora. Your wisdom must suggest, a married The only one beneath the sun, worth living? Jthn. Man is a compound bcinp made of l Love, out of soul and body he'a all love! f Hut why the heart is mortal, and must go To dust again is not a work of mine. AW. We see it thus, and know it should be so, And should not, for mortality, repine! But let our hearts attend to life's first cause) And live obedient to the moral laws. B t 6 CONRAD AND EUDORA; .f Jon. This is a definite world, and to are we, And tend, in our relations to each other Proving that we arc just as we should be That every man should he his neighbour's brother. For all must meet in that eternity, A children of the s:imc immortal Father ! Then, why not, in this pleasant world delight' SinciRopir has su d, whatever is, is right* .. Eud. rtiat is, all moral, virtuous cts are right. Because, they are the will of llruv revealed The oracles of sacred truth confirm it. Jtlun. Confinn that which tliey CUM not prove ! think not? Eud. Do not believe the oracles of Cod Agree with human attribute*, and tend To benefit the human race > .lion. I do. (/tr/actanllt;. Eud. The mountain*, rising on the fruitful world, Are glowing with immensity around us! The sun, the moon, and all that we behold. Confirm us of this truth, and quite confound us! Jtlun. Then, why should we not live in joy and mirth' When erery blessing we ran ask, surrounds us* Eud. The book of nature rusts upon our shelve*! And we forget the duty owed ourselves. Alun. Al! telU us with a voice, divine as deep, That death is soor. to lull us all to sleep! Eud. 'Tis right thut every man should moralize Upon those precepts which pertain to good ! .Hun. 'Ti.H also rifcht he should not sacrifice His early 1 fe, in the prorogue of good. Some, call their childhood up with tears! Because they let some precious moment pass. Ir. manhood thty forget their passing ) ears Then say, Ah! what a havoc time has nude! Their hearts become o'erburthenM with their cares- Hut such have dropt their acorns in the shade! And why should they thus mourn about their prime' Because, like all things, they were born to die' But time has nothing more to do with blunders, Than sunshine has to do with this world's wonders. Eud. No human heart repinet at doing good. Ji'on. And here \ou would suggest an evil thing OR, Till; DK.ITII OK ALOXZO. That is I make myself my own man** nun, lie satiifii d with self, Ai\d wish no ruore. AW. Mv plan is notwftftcrilcgc the truth. .7/y/i. All good from^vils come now, thi we know. Were I to hold exposed, in both my lunds, Hoth spotless trutli, ami tnith defiled, which take' Take that which Adam took from mother F.vc! Hccause, such truths unto our natures tend. Man cannot see beyond an eagle's eve! . lie cannot hold the sun, nor grasp tne moon; * 'But he can time the lion, slay the lamb!" He cannot live upon the air, nor fly; Rut he has feelings which mature in love. When things around in due relations stand. f-'uri. Tlu- oak may stand aloof a thousand yearn! And brave the whirlwind's and the lightning's blast. Hut, when it falls, we shed no tears, nor weep, And quite forget it ever braved the storm; Hut, when man dies, our conscience rears a tablet To his memory that his name may live ! And, if his deeds can only fill the rent, We go and write them on his monument. Now, why all thi*' I'll tell thee why it is: The end of law is not immediate death. .7Am. Hut look at this we grow mature and old, While hope's delusions dance around us ever, Then opportunity, at length, takes wing; And, tir.st we know, affections grow so cold, We hope for dc.ith, that we nia\ live for ever. AW. ** Whatever is, i> right" if Ms not wrong 1 ! \Jinn :n /dom to the \\oild R COMRAD AND f Tis yonder canopy of deathless love! Like* blue-eyed woman in a love-sick hour! Whose altitude from earth distracts the mind, Which would be there, but is afraid to go. Now, as the ocean mirrors forth the stars, So does this paper personate my heart. Thy smiles are as the unclouded stars that shine. My heart, within this vestibule of love, Is, as the ocean, pregnant with thy smiles; ' While my imagination's mingled thoughts. Are figured frost-works on its fancied tide. All life is circumfused with radiant joy, The vessel of my life is on the tide The summer of thy smiles look fresh and gay The canvass of my baraue is spread out wide. Oh ! may it catch each fervent sigh of thine Then on the highest heaven of consolation, All my thoughts shall soar, and rest in heaven. Eud. Then give it me perchance it raay be blest Too kind to be a brother, and not kind Enough to be a husband let me hear Aloii. How sweet to trace the outlines of thy face And drink the living music of thy voice ! [Reads. To fold thee gently on mv bosom's couch, And hear the echoes of thy faithful sighs. Oh! how my life could nurture thee, Kudora! [Embrar't Eud. /Tis true, thy voice is sweet to human cars, [her. But talking lovers are the falsest of their race. They woo us with the sunshine of their thoughts As lecherous Sol doth woo the emerald spring. . m They make a world of spirits, and commune With min'Htcrs, in other, brighter spheres. Thus did a lover, who was born to honour, A youth of genius and luxurious hopes An heir to all, but deep and constant love. He talked with lightnings m their fiery course! And seemed no more afraid of raging storms, When ocean moaned the dirge* of the dead! Than would a child, beneath a cooling shade, To hear the music of melodious birds. He made the very thunderbolt his pen, And with the ink of lightning, wrote his song. t>R, THE DEATH OF ALONZO. " Transfixed liU trident in the human heart, Till admiration turned to love-tick tears' Hut mark hi* nettled agony and strife! Although his echoes chased him o'er the nca y Through ull his soul ran fiery indignation! Because lie wanted morals in h.* heart. His love, with anuthy, grew cold and stifl'! The tenant of his soul became an exile! lie, an some transient star, shut out hy gloom. Through time** resolving years, went up to heaven! Tor men to look upon, with ga/ing eyes. - Became disgusted with life's hahitution, And, through his sinful deeds, despised the world. .Hon. Oh! what a glorious and exalted thought, To make thin vestibule of restive life- This ante-chamber of 'mortality! Where settled resolutions mould resolves; A prelude unto symphonies divine! hud. But oh! the fairest flower* the soonest fade* .7/011. And wert thou born to die, voluptuous maid 1 Born unto manifold distresses here* A pilgrim wandering through earth's lonely wild* Oh! that mortality were infinite! Then, how my oul could Jove and press thee near! Thus chained to one, so lovely as thou art! Whv wcrt thou made from this bright world to fTart* / Those eyes, which, l.ke a river, deep and clear! Was beauty made to dwell so shortly here* AW. Why dot ihou manifest, for me, such care* 'Tin true, 1 know iu\ self, and feel my \\orth; But self-esteem may faun me into pride. 'Tis strange, such love should kimllc up so soon! 'Tis better to prorogue the spreading Hamc, Than feel, in after life, regrets for love! This manifest of love, is like a star, Which, as the da> light of reflection breaks, Recedes behind the curtain of the world; J 10 roMUO AM* n noli \; And leave* un trace that once it was, b<* gliM>m! Hut one wide labyrinth of truckles* space! Tlii* is the blind vacuity of fate! Which fill* the interim' of life'* delight*, Ami claims a home in evry human heart 1 - Could I be flattered, in my youth, by wonts 1 might hrup Borrow on my heart and thine. Hut, being taught, by mother's soundless love, I've weighed mine anchor near a hotter shore. The raging sea, on which life's harnuc is tost, May bear me on, wnere rocks ami nlwals invite; Hut when I take a survey of my youth, J have been blest with such a tender mother! J i/ft, Thou art sole evsene** of my heingN love* Kutt. Thou telh-st me, to my face, I urn the light Which shuts out dark ness from thy soul, Itencath \shose he-Mr there shines resplendent ilay >\ i.hout it, life is darker than the tomb! Ami, oh! I have hern thinking it were besti For, I have nothing but m\se1f on earth! My father died when I was but a child, Ami left my mother and myself alone! \ es, 1 have one bright je\\ el, white as snow ! Wouldst ihou behold it shine* then ope m\ heart! Haise up the tablet to my bosom's fount, And in its chambers in my heart** deep eorc, The jewel 1 cs! more precious fir, than gold! l.ink'd with my life, oil earth! my hopes of heaven! Matured, it yields a thousand precious fruits, Hut needs the culture of u tender hand! Without this kindness, tis a barren waste! The dove will love but one fond mate through life; And if u fowler's shot but lay that low, Thou mayest, at noontide, in the sultry sun, When wanton zephyrs play around her wings, Staml auditor, and hear her plead his cause!- 'T would. lend affection to the hardest heart. ./Am. Sweet lady! with thy deathless charms, oh! Come! on the rose bed of my bosom rest! [milc? Oh! speak unto me, that I may be thine* ud. Shine thou my morning unto brighter day * o/i AM brctut* on, TIIK IHUTII or AI.ON/O* 11 ifA'M. !!' rr, shall thmi sleep, as on ft downy much ; Here, on the velvet of my bosom rest! Ami help my wings with thine, to flee away. A.W. My mother! good heaven*! I have delayed my time! Unknown adventure! I must hir inr home, ,IA>. Nay! tav, my love '-then inert, me on to-morrow. 4Afi:n ntnnf. [ilxcnnt AWwfl. See how the fulirmt sun, in yonder west, Doth hhish at this untimely precedent 1 Hi hold him! ho\v he h-ans his radiant heud I'pon his hand, and on eternity! \Vhih' yonder clouds, nexvdipt, in heavenly <1ye, I.onk hark, in crimson, on his heanis, and weep! As if to l>id jrood h\ e to parting dHV; \\ hile, through yon rent appears the hlue arcade, I. ike hlue-i'Vi-d \voinan in a love-sick hour! As if ihrv rouM transmute earth's sin and Jftiile, And mould man's image into heaven above. Thy \oice i* soOrr than the Damn flute Thy wolds urr sweeter than AreadiaN lute. I'.udora! could I deem her of ibis earth, Perchance I m;-ht he happy in her love; Itul, oh! the foily, and mothinks, the crime, To woo an angel from the heavens above.- Entrr Jlnsflinr t Sweet Angelinc! how art thou ' .'lni*rlinr I am well. \Vliy ure heart the instrument and strings. ?". Which shall be mute, tillstnick by thy dear lundf. 12 COXRAD AND El D01AJ .f Aw. Oh! give me but one atom from thy lip-, Ami, like the healing medicine of old, 'Twill cure the heart which thou hast wounded o! 11 ut tell me thou art mine, and life is joy i Yes, all my life shall be but as one morn. Ami that, a may day , shining without clouds. .Ing. Yes, 1 am thine, bv yonder heavenly light! Jtlon. A lamb! a tender-hearted, gentle lamb! Had I this earth a home in heaven abovei And all the stars that shine in yonder sphere, I would be poor, without thy richer self! f/itf. Like thy sweet voice, they seem to whisper joy, As if no future frost might all destroy! Alon. No; never shall my heart forget that morn! Thou hast endowed each feeling with a thought, Which doth, by maific, work upon the heart 'Tis as a mountain ict on fire by love, Which burn% into iU centre, all unseen! Jngtline *ing$. The sky, by day, is seen afar, In one celestial hue; Ily night, there is a brighter star, Than all the rest in view; JJut soon, that sky muy disappear, That star, to darkness pass! And so may fond affection near, Assume the same ala*! J/on. 1 tell thee, love like this can never tire, lint flags for moments, to revive again ; 'Tis that bright spark which melts away in' heave n 1 Jlng. This heart, is as a lyre, of many strings! And that which thou wouldst have, or swei t, or sour, The same is at thy will, this day and hour! [Km bract* her. Jkm. Is it that faithfulness, like Noah'* dove* Which hath no parallel on land or sea*-- This heart retains one crystal stream as free, Which runs, immediate, "from my soul to thine. .ting. 'Tis thine, Alonzo, adieu! [Kxeunt . .1lon. Farewell! The sun is almost set! she has not come! 1 sec him beckoning to the watchful stars, Which make the heraldry of fulgent heaven! OR, THK DEATH OF ALONZO. 13 Sec how his sentinels stand out, to punt, The skirts of time, and diadem old night! Now, on the confines of celcstical space, They softly tread the downy couch of eve, And walk in pensile beauty through the skye! Trembling, with queenly innocence, to teach This lower' world the chastcness of the heavens! The sun's red arrows cleave yon azure brow, And spend their influence on the engirdled earth! [Pauset. KrnoBA rtturn tinging. Come, oh! come to the bridal night! ( Montis are gtmc, and the sky is bright. Come, oli! come to the sylvan bower, Twilight fades, and the dew drops lowerj Smile, oh! smile, she's a virtuous shrine! liive her praise in a song divine- Come, oh! quickly come! c .lion. Were 1 the music of a tuneful lyre, To live in echoes, and in tones expire! To pass off gently to a world of dreams, Ana die in melody that never dies! . I'd change existence with infinite will, And live in echoes, and be music still. [Embrace* Her. Oh! Kudora! thou, dearest to my heart! That gentle voice hath settled in my thought! Come, sing again, my love! and joy be thine. Corrc to the altar, ami hear her vow ! [Si igi. Kipe and fresh in her bosom now! Hear her tongue, like a ircntle bird, llreathe her soul in a single word! Sec that blush on her smiling checks Pure and chaste as the word she speaks! Come, oh! quickly come! Conuv lest the music die away! Chaste and pure as the dawn of day; Come, for the sunset's on the wane, Night will eutne on liis smiles again! Kveniig's shade o'er the day isca-st! Mornhig'* gone, and the evening's past; Now, yc need not come! Alan. Oh! joy! AW. Away ! *1 luve delayed my time! (Frightened. 14 TOKRAD AND CI'DOIU; What will my mother think of tluV Jlon. Why hunt for absent woes when none are nigh? And, if the will not let thec be content, I have thy legacy 'twill bring* her down! Eud. And wouldst thou huve me disobey my mother* Alan. Her love's maternal love, which ends in hope! In welfare, and in virtuous rectitude. My love is not a mother's love, but more! 'Tis love that growcth, ai\d keeps pace with joy< Mark* down each quiver of thy lip each smile! Makes music of thy steps, and hears thy voice, With rupture, when all else, on earth, is still* But does man's love stop here * no ; 'tis not so! He lives within thee, ax his world of worlds! Muxt lie down with thee, in voluptuous bliss, Must nurture thee in love, till life is o'er ; f And wake, to guide thee, on the future morn, This is man's love ! this is my love ! then stay ! Eud. The sun is almost set! and 1 must go! Alon. Oh! stay my love! and set thy prisoner free! Eud. The stars ure gathering now, as sentinels. The fulgent HUH lies down in tranquil peace! Mantling his brow, with dark pavillion'd night, And, at the birth-place of the primal morn, Shakes hands with day, and leaves her in repose. Tare well! 1 must begone! indeed, I must! .ilun. He happy! this fond perquisite of love, Is not an argument of future grief; Hut cluster* gathered from the vines of truth, Which feeds expectancy on actual joy. He thou, unto me, us u cooing do\e, Which go<:st in quest of somr immortal leaf \ Then come bark laden to an ark divine, And 1 will he the kindest of the kind. Nay, say but one brief moment, that my lift? May not be darkened, longing for thy light! Oil! that 1 were a jewel in thy breast, That thou might'st press me to ihy tender boar*, And feed upon the sunshine of thy smiles Drink down the first born rivers of thy life ; And bathe existence in thy healthful blood. Yen, swim about through all thy summer vein*. OR, Till: DEATH OP ALON7.O. . 15 And anchor every feeling in thy soul. Pud. Now, 1 must leave thee, lest my absence lie re, Leave, wronif impression* on my mother*! mind. .f //i. I tell thee, say thnu hast not seen me-* Tell her thoii hu,t been to see a friend! And tell her Frankfort w ill bear witness to't. AW. And wilt thou not return, nnd see me home* 7/c/ii. 'Tii best that 1 remain they may suspect me. AW. Suspect thee, Alon/o* suspect thee, what > This speech imports some foregone thought of thine? Presumptuous word! thou incubus to love! Did mother know thou wcrt sincere, the cause, Would she not turn her love to thy regard ' Yes, doat upon thee with familiar smiles! You mint remember, mother's love in threat! K'en us a mount above a mote hill Mta'idt, So does my mother's love above the childlc** 1 Then go, and she will be to thce, a mother! And part of love for me, bestow ."n thee! ./'Am. You know what pains mo t people take to lie! It gluts a fool to self-esteem, to thi.ik Himself the author of the world's surprise! Although the word were /Ktna's red-hot flames, A sword, with twenty edges, ki en and sharp ; Would wound his lips at every utterance! So, he could leave a gash in other's hearts, He'd let the poisonous adder hist and bite! Hud. Then, 1 must be gone! fire well Alonzo! ( Shake* hand*. .linn. Conn- to me again to-morrow, my love! J-'uit. At uh.it time to-morrow shall I come* .'Hon. Meet m< , my love' this etc, in S\ Kia's shade, In the i v< miij;, at the hour of six. [AVriiw/ A'ur/oru. .Hnn. Oh! what a joy were that sweet lapse of love, NVIi rh m:ike life's intrrim a svv'ect delight. Oh* that my soul could drink ol'bt-r its til), And v.tt life's litiigingH with redoubled bliss! Tin- pure out-pounni-;-. o( the draught would kill! An 1 hope uould v, in;f Hi- 1 , l.ke a frightened dote, Like Israel'* pill.ir, in t!i< !> .;d of iit^ht, Which st -MX! in |M-U\:I, a iieucini to Ilir li-i.t. [ There is a s ciet \\lii-jn-r in Ihi* heart, 16 CONRAD AND EC DOHA? Called conscience! 'tis my life's embassador! Whence doth it come > from heaven ? from earth* or hell ' 'Tis like the boit of Jupiter new hurled! Like Neptune's trident in my heart transfixed! It summons, from the temple of my soul, Nature's high priest, to mediate (or virtue! Should I not heed this voice > what if I break, The link which binds me to existence's self? Oh! Conscience! why wcrt thou given to torture me? If I unweld one link from nature's chain, Wherewith I stand connected unto heaven, 'Twill let me down to dark nonentity I- To rise no more! with devils damned! in chains! But hark ! the zephyrs waft a soothing- strain, Methinks tis hers! it settles in my heart! Till all life's music mingles into love ! SCENE M.Befort a Tavern, in Frankfort. ALOXXO tntcrt and in ft (3 ROLAHD. Poland. Good day, Alonzo! what's the news? A Ion. None! Rol. Whv look so sad? are you in love? .Hon. In love? Do you suppose a man of sense would love? Because he loved, look sad ? llol. Lord Byron loved until it broke his heart! You'd better take a Sappho's leap from Leucatc. Tasso, Petrarch Dante went mad for love! The Poets, all, run mad, at run-mad love! Alon. He never "loved but one, and that loved one Could ne'er be his!" ttul. 1 that the way with you* Frankfort is sleeping 'in the sultry tin, And nothing now U going 1 on! see here, Will you not legislate for us again? Jtlon. Is my election sure ? Hoi I think it is. Jilon. Well, 1 will never offer more! hoi. Why not? I have my reasons, which you ne'er shall know ! You may, in time, propose some other man. OR, THK DEATH OP ALOXZo. IT /to/. Hast thou not teen the beautiful Eudora? Mm. Who is the > liui Deny it not you know we're friends! [Pointtathim. If you have seen her not, the neighbours lie! Eudora, daughter of Elvira. Jbn. Ah> /to/. Perhaps your Angelinc may love another? .lion. Perchance she may, but who is this Eudora? /to/. Ah! not know the beautiful valley maid* Who, born upon a rose-bed, without thorns, Is, of the fairest, fairest one herself! If you love Angelinc, love not Eudora! Love well, Evulora! butnot Angel'me! [Stukcthiithaulder. .'lion. Who is she, of whom thou hast spoken so highly I Hoi She is not rich, but she is much the more! But mark! I tell you, not to give you pain A schoolboy friend of mine was sick of love; But he is pone your only chance is now. Mun. Where is he pone ? Rol. To Mexico! the sun! He has been gone some time; he may be savage E'er he comes again you'd better mind your eye! He means to marry her on his return. Jilon. But, I have all her legacy in hand Yes, 1 have seen her she is beautiful! 7 And lop the tender roses in their bloom' KrnoRA cntfrs. I may relent me yet, and make her mine! AW. Kclcnt, Alonzo? am I not thine own* Won. What nr.dst thy mother, on thy brief return? OK, Til P DKATII OF ALON/.o. 10 AW. She questioned me about my stay from home, And told me, I had better mind talce care! Jllon. Take care of what* to shun my cornpanrf AW. Not keen these shining 1 words of virtue bright. Jllon. Let me kiss the nectar from thy tender lip*,; We must go on no chance can turn us back F.ud. You alarm me, Alonzo! am I thine > * ._ Mon. \ cannot swallow down thy mother's words! \ I long to he where I hate never been, And Ions; to see what I have never seen Eud. \ must return again. [TfcAret her hand. Mercy, Alonzo! [Fall* on one knee. .Hon. Etidora! art thou not that living light, Which shuts out chaos from my soul ' Thou shalt not go! I have thee to myself. End. Be thou, unto me, as a branching tree, And I, beneath thee as a feeble lamb! Oh! if the winds blow fierce, do, hush the storm! .lion. Rise! thy mother wish'd to win thee from me! Eud. Why dost thou speak so harsh! my mother loves thee! Alan. Loves me } 'tis no such tiling! there, say no more! No; 'tis too late! I'd rather be a slave, And plough your mother's land, than be the man I am, and bear her private scorn! 'tis true! To have her cloud the daylight of my life! And drop into love's chalice, vormwood gall! Which no Cunathus ever wash'd away! 'Didst thou not feel a throbbing* at thy heart, When she advis'd thee to beware of me* I'll be rcvcng'd I'll bear no woman's scorn! AW. Oh! Alon/o! she is kind to thee! .1lun. Kind' Persuade me black is white there, say no more! Were yonder rocky mountains massive gold, Could 1 recall those words, I'd give them freely! Oh! Eudora! thu hast beguil'd my thought! (Jo get thee meet me on to morrow eve, That I may banquet on thy beauteous charms. AW. What dost thou mean, Alon/o 1 art thou mad* Open thy wanton breast, and let in virtue! Unlock the chambers of thy soul, and let 20 CONRAD AND EI DOHA; In prudence, let in sacred honour trust! Wouldst thoti betray the trust repoa'd in thee, For that te Vantage which thou hast in hand! Heap dust and ashes on my mauler's head? And drive me, loathsome, from myself and heaven? Say, no, Alotuo! and 1 still am happy. jtton. Knowest thou the ordinances of my love > Then hear maternal puling- never more ! End. What! despise my mother? I must be gone* Jllon. Begone * where to? I say thou shalt not go! This arm and hand protect thee! -thou must go! I tell thee, by this heart, that loves thee well, My soul is kindled into rapturous flight! Here, I have a jewel wear it near thy heart, Recount the happy days and hours we spent, Wlu'ch none have reahz'd like 1 and thou; For which no substitute was ever found, When ev'ry whisper was a vow of truth. Go, meet me on uiis very eve farewell! [Exit EUUOIA. The sky above me is Italian blue, [Alone. As day leans westward to enchanted night| Which looks on man's creation with a love, As deep, as from this earth to heaven on high. While 1 am here, in love's lascivious garb, Betraying truth, and feeding lust on virtue! I The which, to think on, makes me loathe myself, And hate the birth which made me such a fool! Oh! Angeline! my love! and if my tears Were tests of my affection, call me kind! They flow as if 1 had ten thousand thorns, To root from out a long detracted heart! [ If >t/u. What talc is this, to woo me from my joys? By heavens! I'd loose my life Kudora's mine! [Exit. SCKNK III. Kentucky IHvcr. Enter Uu.iTi.ii, with Guru and Game. Pint /fun. Did you not see a ladyc in the grove? Stcvnd Hun. 1 saw a female form, adorn' J in white. OB) THE DEATH OF AtOftlO* 21 With trtsses all dishevel'd on her neck, Who held within her hand, a scarf as fair. t\r*t Hun. Did you not see a gentleman past by? Who follow'd down the sombre vale, in haste? M'hat can that mean? she seem'd to loathe his tight! He overtook her, and she sat her down, And sccm'd as if distracted with some thought! Second Hun. By heavens! they walk'd far o'er the dis- tant hi 11! 'Tis strange! their actions speak too much, for right! Perhaps she is an orphan in distress! You may depend its no concern of ours. /Yr/ 1 Inn. Come, let us drink, and take to rest awhile. Second Hun. No; let us to the village-- I'twil soon be dark. First Hun. The moon will shine how will you vote* Second Hun. Well, I'll give Alonzo my vote, I think. Fint Hun .Oh, no! he has resign'd 'tis now, too late. Second Hun. Ah! well, 1 do not care come, take a drinki [Or in fa. Now, let's go on, we'll reach the village soon. Fint Hun. 'Tis strange Alonzo should resign* Second Hun. It is [Exeunt tmnet. A LOI zo enter s t with doivncant k*>k* t at if tome mitfortunt had befallen him. lion. My very heartstrings into terror burst,- Tuned o*er the highekt pitch of agony! While nature, striving to undo her deeds, Doth flutter, like a wounded bird, in dust! Kach life p!,e of tins heart, new caged, expands, And !trikei my splintered ribs, to mangle more! Kach crimson fetring, by slow degrees, crack loose, And burn my cheek* with everlasting fehame! While fiery blood leap* through my burning \ cm*, And washes down my heart, to \vaxte my life. The past in happiness is gone forevt r, And lend* the present only .Ucrner grief! We onlv feel the jo)* we now enjoy j And fail to keep the joys we have enjoy'd! Look, now, through memory's darkened Into the gulf of unrequited grief! My poor Kudora! with tlivsjf, alone* 22 CONRAD AND 1:1 DOR v; Now stretch, damned hcartstring, till you break! Hreak up life's anguish, deeper titan the sea! My poor Kudora! She is left alone! Now, my conscience tells me, marry her No! ftv heavens! I must be there! I must be there! Klse some vile wretch seduce her back again. I will not irp lest she run mad with grief! Oh! Angt-line! this night, 1 wed with thee, Then heap, Olympic woes on hills of grief! Oh! my heart! 1 wish it could be so How can Kudora be my wife 4 she can't! These tears arc from the gulfs of human wo! This wound this punctur'd wound! can never heal, Hy all the sundry on earth 'tis done! And here! the vessel which once held my tears, [St'nkct hu heart. ts one eternal flaw, one fractur'd wreck! And ever)' crack is leaking out my life! Let nature reinstate herself again. "What's this* another heart string on the stretch* Hurst, foul offender! burst! and let me rest! Let life run into all her brief extremes, And n-.iture feed on settled agony! Now, dash remembrance from my restive soul, And live upon for^tfulness! make hope Lil's bitterness console, and kill the past! Feed on my heart at once! then, gorge thyaclf ! Tear drag rend humanity in twain! Thou vile-anointed, hell-deserving wretch! . Now, like an infant, tir'd of its dull nurse, Grow peevish of existence, and the world! Live! die incessantly, for one lone hand, And that borne from me, n* u mountain curse To poor Kudora! take that thought away! Oh! for a sea to drown this living fire! Sicr.c on him, terror! Vengeance! take revenue! Pursue the villain throughout all the earth, \V hat's this* conscience' death! Satin! wrath and hell! My head! my heart! my soul! the world is on me! [Hushc* out. I*B OF ACT I. OR, Till: DEATH OF ALOXZO. 23 ACT II. SCENE I. ,f Cottage in the Country, near which, Rr- A ai// KI.VIMA, hermothfr, ore sitting u-A-i/r, Eui- in a melancholy mood, complains of her tniifortuncf, Kc bon A n* a/i l.ook'd on thce, when thou wast a child, all night >- . And, when Uie damask dawn of orient morn Walk'd in my wicket, found me by thee still I- He found me there, by thee! Oh! what a curse! From day to day from year to year, these hands Have nurs'd the'e, child! and, from these lacteal springs Have I, at midnight, fed thec, - half asleep! And why didst thou deny me joy in a,;e > As some bright star, above the rest hath shone, The queen of all the radiant perns of heaven} Then shut, from tranquil light, to utter gloom! So docs the night of grief crane thy beams! M'here shall we go, for recompense* Oh! God! There is no resting place- beneath the tmn! There is the cottage where her mother lives. [Point* at if* AW. C)!i! she is full of tenderness and love. Eh. I would that I were drad and in my grave! To die, and leave thec in the villain's hands' [Indignant. That foul apostate, rebel, truilor, wretch! lie, who hath ruin'd my child, and broke this heart! No; had I power, these old, decrepit hands, Should make each second of his dying life, A thousand years of misery! Oh! thou man! Could I but ope the windows of thy heart, * I'd shut a lion in, to trar 't in pieces! Yes, open ev'ry vein thut feeds thv heart, Anil fill each empty tube with inoften lead, And hang thee up, and mock thce day and night! 'Till thou had'st grown so old in ugliness 34 CONRAD AMI Kt That ry'ry fowl that soar* in air, should rrr am, And cv'ry wolf stand howling at thy come! [ If */>*. /Turf. That I had died when I was but a child! That I had never seen the light of day! Ho, who, was as the pulses of my heart, Ho, who clung 1 round me, hut deform'd me thiu! And, with the lying lips of wanton hist, Itctray'd me unto bitterness and shame! He, who once held me to his beating heart, And bude me hoar the whispers of its love, And mark the fervor of his soul! now gone* He he, to chain me with a chain of lead! [Disdainfully. Oh! for a healing Marah for this thirst! He, lure me to his arms, then crush my heart > Hut let me not upbraid him! he was kind! An udder! till I fluttered in his jawi. Shall 1 forgive him> Thereby swear my guilt* . Not while this heart maintains my eagle thought. Not while this hand can move a single joint. Not while these eyes can see these feet can walk. Not while the sun svakos up at morn by heavens! Not while he shines, and sits upon yon sea! I live to view the mirror of his blood, [DUdainfutly. Reflect the deep damnation of his deeds! And make seduction stare me in Uic face* No; if there be no hand, so good, on earth, As to absolve me of this cursed crime! If there be none on earth, so kind, as true, To shut the villain in a new dug grave! And rid the air, in which I live, of bane By truth, and that which I have lost, I'll drcsi Me in an Indian's garb, and paint me red, The quiver'd angel of revengeful wrath And hunt him, like Diana, with a spear, And wake the stings of his ingratitude! To stifle this proud soul with such an *ir, When, in this rich apothecary, lives An antidote, to purge him from the world! /.Vr . Repine no more, F.udora! all is vain! End. He, once the **applc of mine eye," emit off! If it offend thee, pluck it out! it does! My noonday sun is dark with lowering clouds! OK, TIIK DEATH OF AtOXXO. *J5 And that meridian splendor, once to bright, I.ICH folded in the funeral of disdain! Now tliis dark garb of widowhood, shut H out The Munnhine which made virtue day, and chills The healthy merriment of youthful blood! liars up the door which open* on my soul! Shuts love within the dungeon of my brain, And makes a culprit of my cv'ry thought! Turn* out the tenant of my bosom'd sirr, To play upon the winds! that ever)' car May drink the sound that cv'ry tongue may blast, Tlu- roses which once paradi&'d my soul! Oh! living death! why taunt me with thy woes' A'/r. An! why complain, when thou art half to blame? Eud. Oh! mother; wound me not I tell thcc now What' he! the Milo swore he'd take my life! Aiul then, upon the curse, shed woman's tears! And bade me, with a sigh, not break his heart! And spoke of business which prorogued the time- Till, like the sequence of an earthquake shock, That lingering silence which succeed* the storm ; Aghast 1 stood! and begged him peace once more! But, with the fury of a gorgon, rushed, And clasp'd me in his arms, still threatening death! And, though, with purpose bent, 1 still had hopes! [ Wttp*. Elvira. Oh! how could nature look upon such things! JiWttjH. AW. The wrath of heaven doth not chastise like men, Hut lingers in infringement, giving pain. [Wcepg. Elvira. Oil! Kudora! Kudora! why weep now? Why choose this bright congenial day, to turn Thy heart strings into discord! and, break down The channel of life's precious stream! and melt The current of existence into tears' Though heaven's decree has been delayed, my child! At last, his death will yield thee richer (rifts! Eud. I tell thee, mother! though thou k no west me well! And brought'st me upward from a child, with care! Thou know'st me not! I'm strange to thce, for all! 1 tell thee, and the lamps, which burn in heaven, Rear witness that my words have all gone forth! And oan no more return than could a ball 26 CONRAD AND EUDOBA Shot from the cannon's mouth -I tell thee now ' And mark me! mv young- heart is not forsworn- No; 'tis as pure, in its intent, as snow! I would not harm the simplest thing 1 on earth! As loathe to scorn, as fierce to insult given! Hut, when despite is on my nature thrown, I swear, 'tis harder far than adamant! And now, for all I hore him, in thin world! For every moment that I saw his face, If health survive, and only life shall last, For all the smiles which won me to belief, Shall fourfold years, and endless hate be g-iven! And this wide heart, so full, it fain would burst This fountain, which is si. red to bitter wrath, Which that insatiate wretch so rudely stung 1 , And wounded with the arrows of his lust! Shall turn an August to his life, and thirst For every drop that palpitates his heart! 1 tell thee, here are settled resolutions! For, agony now slumbers in resolve. I'd pray to heaven for fifty live-long^ years, And travel through the world, to take his life! Etc. Oh! my child! my child! thou art run mail! AW. Mad! Thou know'st I have enough to make me mad! To burn up every atom of my blood; And freeze the pulse* of my heart to death! But 'tis not so! perhaps I might go mad, Had I a soul a* little us myself; And had no other way to vciit my wrath, Than through these weeping- windows, which you see! Which, every moment, tclU me, that 1 breathe The same fresh air, in which a traitor lives! I lad ! no other door to enter heaven, Than through these narrow straiU and locks, which shoal Existence then, my heart might weep! but, mark! For such a little heart, there never lived Beneath God's heaven, a nobler, larger soul! The mountains' heights arc ascertained! the seas Arc fathomed, and the ocean's depths are known! The heavens arc fettered by material apace! Revenge in woman hath no limitations! OK, Till! DKVIII OP ALOMO. .27 Tis measure less! and never had a shore! Thou know'st a woman'* love? how deep! how strong! Then weigh it in the scales of heaven, and weep! Elv. My child! tiiou art beside thyself! 'tis vain! 1 have foregone these many things for thce! And here, I find thec railing out in wrath, A if thou couldst allay the temptest-stormi And grasp the whirlwinds in thy hands let's go! [Start away. Eud. \ know one tempest I can still, too well! And such a wreck shall never shame this world! The chronicles of life are sealed bv death \ And on the outskirts of the eternal hills, Stands bold revenge to confiscate his soul! Elv. Thou, Eudora! do all this? who aids thee* End. Mother! 1 love thee teach me not to hate! Klv. Thou art distracted oh ! that I were dead! End. Weep not, my mother! 1 will soothe thine age! Could I retrace the current of my years, Rack to the fountain of my early hopes, How I could smile before thee! with a heart As buoyant as a fuwn on Judah'* hills! No mortal man shall know that day und hour, "When these poor haiuU shall chase life's cloud away, And from the sky of life, that curtain draw, A nd hurl a traitor from his domil throne! Then will the sunshine of meridian day, licamon the bright Hesperian fruit of gold; Break through the ha/.e of disappointment's morn, And light me and my mother home to heaven! Elv. O! heaven grant that hour could come. End. 'Twill come! Elv. Come let us take us to our lonely home. End. Hark! 1 hear the cooing* of a matelc*s dove! 'Tin so much like the voice I heard that day! It sings so mellow, with harmonious pain! Her music dwell* within me, a* a song, Through visions purified and oh! the grove! llright gems of love! what spirits (ill mine eyes* Oh! what a reason wus such perfect love! In early childhood, where my spirit met Its ministers of pence! to wrt^tc :nd melt 28 CONRAD AND Kl'DOR \; Like snow in sunshine > shall it be to now? M v heart-strings bursting with untamed regret- All circum fused with tears! no; hope U strong! The chains which bound my life are twain, And mildew rusts them, from his cadent tears! And now, all trembling-, like a stormy oak, Shaken on high, by some unfriendly wind, I see his iron heart- strings burst and bleed! And cry unsolaced to his tortured mind! Mark! this hand shall do 't, and this heart shall guide. Eh. What will become of Angeline, his wife* [Disdainfully. But she hath done no wrong! upbraid her not. Eud. I would not waste the offspring of my thoughts, To name her name! she was that golden gate, "Which shut my entrance out of happiness! No! no! who could be happy with a traitor? No one! not e'en an angel out of heaven! Eh. Let us home, my child! he loves her. Eud. He love? And enemy to virtue, love > tell me That heaven is hell! that he will go to heaven! 1 tell thcc, now, I have u daring soul! Feeble in body yet, in mind, a lion! Then say no more talk not of Angeline! Methinks 1 sec him sitting by her side, As he disported one?, with me telling lies! Eh. His children will be taught their father's language. Eud. His children! heavens! my child! my child! my child! [Exeunt Eudvra and Elvira. SCKNE U. Frankfort: in the vie! nil y of irAiV/i, Conrad meets Alfred, his friend. Alfred. Good morning, my noble friend any news? Con. Nothing worth the question. Jlf. Ah! nothing? You have been absent for a long t'r.nc past* No news' and just from Mexico* 'Us strange! Con. Ah! u* to that, 1 have some sort of news. Alf. \Vhat did you sec, worth naming to a friend* I saw still born liberty sv/st'ncd in gold! OR, THE DEATH OF ALONIO. 2& I Saw l.uman laws made highways into crime! Saw avarice debasing human nature! And cut the throat of a cut-throat, because He insulted a lady in my sight! Jllf. Hy heavens! worse and worse! them art the man! Thou art the man, for me ! when we were boys, I recollect, you used to take the field. Con. Ay as to that, those days are past and gone! jilf. Itv truth! I thought there was no crime on earth, Could match that villain's! Con. Whut do you mean* .ilf. Have you not heard the wide report abroad? If 'tis not so,* then scandal's fast asleep, And rumor, with her snaky tongue, has found Some confine in the earth, and buried envy! . -* When man sets fire :he lips of hell, and makes Hlack passion stare /oung- virtue in the face, Then nx a pivot in thy heart for doubt To turn on! Didst tho'u know Alonzo? Con. Know him > Why, Alfred! I know him better than thyself. Alf. Did you not know he loved Eudora? COH. No. I think not never did there live a sweeter. Jllf. Why > how > who was she > whai is she> Con. A maid The damsel of the valley pure as snow .'?//. Melted by a summer's sun. Con. Do not jest 'Twotild be a chmgcroiis thing. Jllf. Did you know her? Con. 1 know her* we went to school together. ilf. Then, I suppose, you thought her chaste. Con. I did ; But not more chaste than the is now, I guess! iff. Ily heavens! the villain should be burnt alive! The whitest snow, in falling, may be changed! Con. What means this kind o'*talk she is not married' Jilf. Ah! if t'wc-re so, t* would be as well as 'tis, Hut not much better! Con. What is it > tell mo? Mf. \\ hy, he is blown so high, the birds may build D 90 CONRAD AND Et DORA; Their nesU in him, before he falls! she's lowf Con. What? taunt me no more with slanderous words! Come, play the fool no more! 1 know them both. dlf. Then, what 1 tell thec, 1 would have thce keep, At silent as the grave confines the dead! The gentleman who represent)! our state Con. H~s he committed murder treason rape? Alf. Yes! all that! as sure as you're a living man! His passion, not content with earthly things, Has conjured up his brain beguiled his heart! Whereby he ruined the sweetest thing on earth! Con. Verv well I'll see you soon again. Mf. SUy> [DuturM. Thou art in love! he not disturbed 'tis vain! ('on. \ do not care! tis* nought to me! what else? Jtlf. \ think thou art my friend! be such to her! And better still, 1 know that I am thine ; And 'tis from this strong friendship that 1 speak. Con. Why! tell me what thou knowest about the man? Alf. If thou hast courage, learn him honesty. He made a promise to Kudora, as I heard, And acted like a traitor in the bargain. Co/i. Ah! if she loved him well, and he deceived her, Then, the crime falls heavier on his heart Than on them both, did both love equally. .///. 1 understand this thing from good me it's mouths. ('on. What* it is not so' it can't be possible > Alf. Trees arc known by fruits they bear! spring it come! 'Cow. Jiy heaven! I understand ye you arc his friend? Jllf. I'm no such thing! I'd rather cut his throat ! Co/i. That you had better keep within your mouth. .iff. 1 must be gone good day! [Exeunt .llfrtd. COM. tlood day, Alfred. 1 would not nurture in my soul, one thought, [Jlunc. Which would he hurtful to my fellow man; And hope, for virtue's sake for heaven and love, Which 1 have borne so long that 'tis not so. 1 love Kudora! and, u sw< ctcr child, I never saw deserve a mother's love. That villain must have used some violent menus; And, if he did, which I shall seek to know, OH, TIIK DEATH OP A I. ON 7,0. 31 I'll arm me M a Hydra, full of heacix, A*ul, Argils ey'd, with swift Achillen* speed, Pursue him, like a bloodhound, clay and nipht. And finding* him, make daylight through his heart! 'Till, draining ev'ry life drop from his veins, Winter of death shall blow upon hit soul, And freeze up his existence into dust! Shall I premeditate a brother's death' No kinsman of this heart! tUink'.st thou, this hand, When wush'd in life's red spring, will not, with joy, Pluck out the thorn which wounds Kudora's heart' I would not hurt the heart of mortal nun; J would not wound the feelings of a slave; I wot i Id not trespass on the moral laws, For that poor, paltrv recompense, call'd pride. Ily heaven! I have for man, far nobler views! A id would not wound the sympathies of self. [.Strikes hit heart. My end and aim, for this, and future life, Takes root in richer soil than common earth; Hut if the chalice of my hopes, so full Of pure and perfect love,-fbe drain'd to dregs; And I am forced to drink the wormwood left Ily truth! my run-mad heart shall quench its fire. Look at these hands! these stainless hands of mine! Were they kept clean thus long, to murder man! To turn a Vulcan ihakc a human forge, And point a steel, that has no feeling in it* And loose the fountain of his mortal lift.-, 'Till ev'ry drop of human gore runs out* Would'st thou belkrve, a man, who never saw A death in all his Hfe! one, who would weep, In woman's tears, to see a suffering thing! Would'st thou believe that man could sport with human lifc This is the man these are the hand* shall do 't! I have authority from higher climes. And mark! if I have not I tell tlree, there Are crimes, which, once committed, call for aid, Which, when bestowM, would be a crime itself, We'rt not fdr such as this the shedding blood, Ax sacrifice, for orphan honour >tolcn! ; 32 COJKHAD AND H I>OH A ; Clouding Uic crystal c a of limpid life That unpolluted region of the soul, In which obscene defilement never sat; Now, may heaven give me wings to speed this work. [Extuni. SCENE HI. Jt Cottage in the Country, where Eudora and Elvira /I'M. Conrad filer* goes to the door and , knock* { and Elvira comet out. Con. Good evening, El Yin! pleasant evening. Elv. Pleasant evening walk in, and take your rest. Con. I have a message for Eudora's self; And I must see her. Elv. You cannot see her, I hope you did not come here to insult me > Con. I did not my name is Conrad, tell her so- That I am of her people, and her Und \ have a present tor her. Elv. 1 cannot. I have rctirM forever from the world, And would not see the dearest friends on earth! Con. I knew that, e'er I came here, give her this [Hand* her a Utter. Tell her, that I would speak ten words, at most. [Goes in to Eudora. Elv. Eudora begs me to inform you that She must refuse; and bade me give you this [Hand* him a book. Con. By heaven! I came to see Eudora's face, And I must do 't excuse me, ladye! 1 am Eudora's friend a trusty friend. Elv. Are you a madman? -get you gone 1 say She will not see thcef Con. Tell her o'er again Ask her if 1 can see her on to-morrow ? Give her these jewels, and bid her keep them, For the love the giver bears her take them. [Tb/rtf them and got* in. (Alone) The sun is fulgent, and his sheeny light, Hy God's strong alchemy, transmutes the day What harmonious wo is that which stirs OB, TIIK DKATft OP ALON7.0. S3 The fountain of my MMI|, and jars the string*, Which vibrate in my heart > *tU tweet a* *ad! Oh! how it settles in the tenderness of pride, Waving upon life'i atmosphere of love! Ah! *ti the dove an emblem of her virtue. That is another witness nature gives, Which proves how much her innocence wa* wronged! The spirits of the world, are all at war, And nature mourns the morn and evening weeps! II y truth! I will not go 1 cannot go! The fountains of my heart are wont to gush, And 1 must hurst, or give existence vent. I will I will behold Kudora's face! I'll see if she be changed since first we met. I'll watch the mirror of her soul, and trace The outlines of primeval joy sweet hour*! When tears were lost in smiles, as morning hate In sunshine.. Has she forgot my name* no. I'll tell her, like a man, and make her im'tle. [GofJt to the door and knocks, and Kudora, comet out. Con. Art thou Kudora > oh! Kudora! come [Hffuif* to go to Aim, and he wttp*. Kud. What mean you, Conrad . speak, that I may know ? Thou look'st like playtime, in my early youthi When I was that, I ne'er shall he a^ain! [ JfV/)*. Con. Dost thou remember those dear streams of ours, Where we have heard the sweet melodious birds * That plenitude of bliss is gone, Kudora! One month ago, and I was far from thee Hut I could not remain my soul was full! AW. Conrad! thou art distressed > Con. 1 am, Kudora! Hut love and tenderness forbid me tell it. Eud. Speak, Conrad! mother knew thee not thou hadst Been welcome, had she known thy manly face. Con. That lonely hut and was that built for thee> it. {Ion. Ye, for me! a villain drove [ll'ttpt. AW. Name it not 1 will not hear it* [ ffi/A anger. AW. Soft; soft! Con. Oh! Eudora! didst thou not know 1 lov'd thee > 34 CONRAD AND Kt DoKA, Eud. No, Conrad! that I cannot know I'll think ! Con. Think not Kudora! dost thou ace you sun, Shedding it* beauty on the world? von hills* Yon canopy of deathless blue? entnroned Above the universe, without a frown* Now, if thou dost, thou secst I love thee well! For 1 am but a spark of that great light A satellite disccrption of the heavens! I know the reason that thou lingcrest here. Eud. How plainly do I sec those eyes of youth, Beaming with love, as when an active child! 1 lov'd them then why was I led away? [ HVf/ii. And now, in this sad day, I feel that love A something, which I would, but can't define. Con. Why live, Kudora! from the world* from man? Eud. Why wound me with recurrences so keen? When heaven dislikes to hear them? say no more! My soul is full of sorrow, and my heart Is crush'd beneath the mountain of my woes! Oh! my father! were he living! were he here! But he'is gone! yea, dead and in hi* grave! 1 feel the tide of indignation rushing Back upon me till a monument stands Up, and points to heaven Ah! tis sorrow's pangs! [flee/u. Con. Oh! Kudora! give me thy hand be mine* A better heart ne'er warm'd a human breast. End. Never never though I lov'd thee as my life! Would I forswear myself? I've done it once!' I'll never do 't again I never did! [ n't f fa ami full* in hit arms. Con. What hast thou sworn, Kudora? tell me, love! Eud. Not to beoucath this heart to mortal man, Until my woes are baptiz'd in his blood! And wash'd from hell's most spurious counterfeit. Con. Then we are sworn alike give me thy hand* [She refute*. You sec this face of mine you see this daggcri [Showt it. This is my young companion I am thine! Now, we can nil be friends give ufe thy hand* Rud. Not till I hear thee swear,- and look to heaven! Con. By heavens! I will not 'twas that villain's prayer! Eud. Yes, that it was; may heaven defend thv love! [/*(!// un nit breast. OR, Till: DKATJI Of ALOMO. 35 Then swear not hy the heavens it is God's throne! Nor by the earth," my love, "for 'tis his footstool!" But swear hy comfort here, and life to come. Con. 1 swear by comfort here, and heaven to come, [Knult, That, with thy hand, as gift of estimation As truly shall this earth reci'.ve his Mood. AW. Then it is thine, and I am thine, mine all; [ 'Jit-fa her hand. But never will I marry mortal man, 'Till he turn priest, and wed him unto death! Con. 'Tis said 'tis done, as sure a said 1 will Not sleep '1*11 not lie down upon my bed, Until I place this birthright in his heart, And send him, with the legacy, to hell! AW. Be not too rash the 'thing should be well done! And mind, you leave no spark behind but tramp The embers, ere you quit him, into ashes I- For fear, one breath may blow him back his soul, And kindle life again he has a wife! And I am sorry for her! Con. And so am I she never did me harm; And I am sorry for his children child! [Looksat Eudm. AW. Oh! heavens! forgive me, Conrad! name it not Con. Thou hast a child, Kudora! I know it all I will restore thee to thyself again. That child shall he no orphan, like thyself! She shall be rear'd and taught bcneatn my roof. Eud. Oh! Conrad! them w.cr't sent to heal this wound. Con. What* thou did'bt love the villain? let him die! [I haw* Au dagger. AW. Oh! Conrad! forgive me! Con. Forgive you, what* Because you lov'd him* that needs no forgiveness! The thing forgives itself, and heaps up hell Against his guilt the wrath offiiun and heaven! I Jove the better hate his crime the more- To know thou wer*t 10 kind, and he betray thee. AW. Then, drag him from the world! he is that curtain, Shading life, which shut* out sunshine from my soul! . But tear the wolf-skin ft OP. 'us back, and throw tlfl roNRAH AND rrnn* A; It to the Hop* F.ttdora live* once morel- Thin hand and heart shall then be thine thine own. rou. These hand* shall wash thy name as white as snow* Hud. I would not chronicle my mime on earth, But have my virtue written in the skies. COM. You would not have me kill him in the night? Let me fight him like a man, face to face. Cowards seek their prey by night, like wolves I am no fox I'll weigh hi* chunre with mine. 'AW. Fight with a traitor* give him chance to kill thee? He may possess the muscle, nerve and strength- All that -and still not have a human soul! The ox hath power a stubborn, ignorant thing. Would'st thou be bsvlanc'd with an ignorant ox? Man's reason, once dehas'd, falls short of instinct i Therefore, secure him in the night a dungeon night! And raise the flood-gates of his treacherous heart, And let the riven of his life run hack To dust the elements from which they came. [dncs m/ft the rvtfagc. Con. Then, I must be as yon eternal sun-- Fix'd and immovable hard as adamant i And steadfast as the pillars of this world. What care I for this golden trophy, here, Call'd honour 1 silver opinions* night! night! Shall hide me from the sophistry of men; And make this unsophisticated heart, A chaplet for Eudora ami mankind. She has become like Israi-.'j increase, Needs the strength of such an honest arm, To roll this mountain from her tender heart! To morrow, 1 shall see linn for the last. [Kudora rftumt. End. He careful, Conrad! he may kill thee first! And when thou dost return, oh! 1 wdl love thee! And ull my life shall be to nurse and praise thee! And wash thy bloody hands with tears of joy. Con. Sweet ladyc! sweetener of all love, my joy- On! what would 1 not do to please thee? die! I'd die without a pang to see thee smile. Kud. Take care! lest he betray thee unto death! Oh! then, this life would be a tenfold curse! Steal on him, Conrad! when he's in his office- Tell him you're his friend, and wish to yec him! OK, THIS DKATII OF ALONtO. 87 I am hit friend 1 am to dp that man A moit immortal good! 1 am to rid Htm of a burthen, which I would not wear, For all Golconda'i mine* I am to prune Hi* tuckcr'd conscience, which is waiting down Hii substance, into pigmy Methinks he should be thankful in the grave! AW. He would not face thee, for hU weight in gold. Con. Why not, Kmluru' AW. Oh! he's such a coward! The mott notorious cowartl in this world. NVho ever saw a foe to virtue brave, And not indict a blush to hide his shame * Find him out, hut call Eudora's name ! And thou can'st do, with him, iust what you please. Tell him, Kudora lov'd him then, you smile; Then mark the cloud which overhangs his brow! Fire his expectation then sav, 'tis peace. Then, ask him if he do not think me pure* Then read self-condemnation on his checks! Make liim acknowledge how he scrv'd my mother Then note the quiver of his lying lips! Ask him if he does not deserve to die* And mark how prostrate he will fall before thee! Howling for mercy, like a beaten dog. Ask him all this and tell me what he says. 1 would not have you sec his wife she's kind! And would not tlo her wrong she calls him dear! lint, if she knew his heart as well as I, She'd not refuse to be our accessary. Cow. Now, out of two fond hearts, we make but one. Like two sweet notes from one melodious string, We make our music on a human harp. AW. Take care, Conrad! bo not rash! mind, my lore! Rut weigh ambition in the scales of patience. Cio, li' j Ulysses, in a clt>ak well arm'd Con. One kiss, Kudora! and the work is done [A's'jM* A/r. Farewell! I hate that word! it makes me wish [Shake* Myself with thee again then, fare tlice well! [handt. AW. Farewell, and 1 will wail mind what 1 told thee. [ Kjccunt omnci. ftxn or ACT n. f OMMTt AM) :i AOTZXZ. SCKNR \.-Fraidfort. Enttr Cnrad t tlotoly and thoughtfully. Con. I have an eddying 1 aorrow in my heart! It must be done 1 it must be done, as sworn! I know too much of speed to linger here! Here is a hand, and here is too, a heart! A kinder, never lov'd, or h;ul a friend. A prouder, never beat a human breast ! With these two friends, in purpose bound, I'll make A breach in nature, time shall never heal! Beside this heart, sleeps virtue's warmest friend. Within this cell, it rests in deep repose. It counts the very pulses of my heart, And cheers impatience on to swifter speed. How warm it feels! now, when I wake it hence! (Draw* hit dagger. See how its face will shine! and I will wash It in a human fount, all full of blood! Then bury him, without a funeral rite, That virtue's foes may read his epitaph! This tongue, no more, shall sound his obsequies! Nor wake him from his rest! but, like his prey, Shall live and die! upon his first resolve! Now, when I wake him, thus, 'twill be, to sheathe It in the foulest heart that ever beat! 1 would not deign inter it in his breast, But such an absolution sweeps away The guilt, which dyed the name of innocence! 'Tis hard! but these are darling energies! He made his bedhis fardels shall be thorns. There is a watchman in the city, here, Which cries loves night of hate, to actual morn! When 1 must guardian be, to love's estate Avenge her many wrongs, with gratitude; And stamp the traitor underneath my feet! Thou good old friend! my heart! it must be done! OR, TI1K DEATH OF ALONZO. 30 I Wake up thy rivulet*, and feed my sou!< And make a* freshet, like Kvulora'* tear*! Now, balance consequence with insult given; And in the scale* of everlasting love, Sweep down the wasting banks of bandy life, And wash seduction from creation's shore. My country! when 1 look upon my land Mine own devoted soil, which guve me birth, 1 cry out in my spirit, glorious Isle!' Thou younger mother of the best of men! Where once the canebrake told the rivers flow. The queen of Andalusia stands divine! r 1M live a thousand years and be ut rest With thee thou altogether lovely land! Wer't not for that huge dam, which shoals the stream Of all life's blessedness! now, he shall die! Hut stay am I not wrong * She bade me kill Him in the night! the starless, dead of night! But 1 must probe the courage of his soul, And meet him in the daylight, like a man. Enter ALVXR. Who come* there? Alver, my fri. u nd! how art thou* .i/rrr. Well, I thank vour'kindncss, how art thou* Von. Well, 1 thank ye Alver! can'st thou not tell Me where Alonzo keeps himself, to day > jilver. Yes, 1 saw him )>a*s the hUcct just now why* Con. You know 1 have been absent for some time; I wish to see him we were once old friend*. 9/rcr. Alonzo's friend* no, no! that cannot be! 1 thought the villain had no friends of lite. Were 1 his friend, 'twould be to take his life! Con. Why MI* Alver! my frie-id! thou art officious? Jli'tr. I want no cameos, intaglios and jewels No foul, barbaric j-old, cnrieh'd with pearl, To make myself a frantic libertine. And woo a wanton nymph from virtue*! To be thus tilagrt ed with antique gems! [Disdainfully. I'd rather be an owl, and hoot all night, Thau such a conscience-smitten truitor. t'o/i. Hast thou a spark of hatred gainst that man* Jllctr. I'm nut his friend! I need not tell thee more. 40 . CONK ID A EUDORA; A fair outside but when you March hit heart, There, guilt ami rottenness sepulchred lie, And crime viands paoting with stupendous guilt! The offspring- of his promise to Kudora. Mark me ! a man, who lives a foe to virtue, Is no friend 10 man! traitor! coward! dor! ^ y That man would steal your soul at dead of night! That man, M ho would deceive an orphan girl, By blushes silvered over with his tears- >Vould rob 9 widow, and betray hU father! If smaller hearts hold in their smaller deeds, Then larfctr hearts hold in them greater crimes ; And the incentive in the last, is greatest! Therefore, I say, bewui-e of such a man! A Cataline a Nero is a brighter man. Con. Thou art incensed Mguinst that man! why lo* Thou would'st impugn him with thy very wrath! Alter. Since thy return, thou hast not heard the news, Which float about, like chaff upon the wind, Which way you choose to blow it. Con. Why* that's strange! Jilvtr. 'Tis not more strunge than true! didst thou not About one year ago, this same Alon/.o. [know. Courted fair F.udora' Con. No; I did not. .f/trr. The villain kept it from the world, for fear Hi* devilish deeds might come to light. Con. How HO> What harvest has he sown to reap thy curses* .ih-tr. Go down in yonder vale, and thou wilt see. Look at that eye, which was unto thy soul, A living star! which roll'd within its orb, And would have gazed a wild gu/.elle away Now shining in an atmosphere of tears! The sorrows of Klvira arc too great! Con. Where is Klvira' has she left this place > Alvrr. Yes, long ago 5 and made the solitudes Her home. Con. Has he exposed 'ier goods to sale? He had her property ut his control, To which Elvira's daughter was an heir. Ah! so much the worse; I did not know that. OR, TUB DEATH OP ALON/o. 41 The treacherous devil, then, lias mined them both. You trump the adder see if lie will hitc! To try a man, place money in his hunch, Then mount him on the steed of lenity; And when lie has the reins, if you perceive lie guide* him wt II, with eure HIM! honesty, Then et him down as one who may he trusted^ Hut when you see him sell his neighbour's horse, Upon a h reach of trust, you shun that man. He is a traitor! thus lie sold Kudora. dm. What has lie done* .tf/rrr. 1'romlsed to marry her. * Con. Is that all 1 that eannot hreak her heart. J\lrcr. This cannot hreak it: Yu already hrokeii. Con. Perhaps some light may chase away her gloom? ,0/irr. You cannot mend a broken egg. Con., That's true. ,V//rr. Well, you can no more make her what she was. A woman's virtue robbed, like loss of sight, Can never he restored and life is night! Were he to give you all he has on earth, 'T would only lend enchantment to the crime, And gild dcstruftion. (jilt wears oil'; Hut guilt like this can never wear away. If thou canst be her friend, 'twould please the heavens. Con. \ he her friend * how can that be* J/rir. Kill him! dm. Do that which I could not behold thec do? There, thou hast touched the secret strings of nature. .Mrcr. No less than death can ever give her peace. Con. How knowest thou that' 9/itr. lly fathoming the crime. Coiirml ti.kt.t h'm fnnul. Alver! thou art an hum >t inun I know thee! Were I a man, who trusted men I'd choose thcc From the world! but say no more! I'll love thee, Though I ne'er shall see thec more! [Shakes htmdt. Mwr. Fare thec well! [Ejcntnt Jlvtr. Con. When Noah sent the turtle from the ark, The first poor, honest thing, was drowned! -it died! Elijah multiplied the widow's oil, And, Nathan gave to David good advice. K 43 CONRAD AND &ITDORA; How 1 love to look upon an honest man? My heart once i^rew so full of love, I thought 'Twoulil he u hotter plan to trust that man.. My aoul wan full, to risk him to befriend met Hut such a deed an this, admits no trust! Then, quickly, down the door of prudence hut. And lock'd credulity in tmhcTicf. I love that man, as David lovM his brother! But he infill turn out Catalinc, for all. Therefore, 'tis host to hardly trust one's aelf. Who' knows ho\v soon man's nature may missive! And frail expectancy beguile his trust > Where art thou, friend * what! asleep in daylight! I Til/ft* mtl hi a dagger, This bright cmbassador's as warm as life! This is that guardian ati^i-l, at the tfattJ Of paradise, which kei ps the banished out. Ah! 'tis a ticket in a lottery "With love, and hate, and homicide for number*, And when the pri/e is drawn, 'twill turn out blood! And pay my way to fond Kudora's arms. How sweet is nclf-congratulation's voice! Like echoes from the Hijfhs of those we love: It builds a bridge across the ^ulf of fear, And Vmds the sword of resignation on. Have I them all > 'tis better to be Mire, [AWi'j ut hlinxeJf. Than lose one's life from nejfli^eiice to a*k An absolution when decrees are past, Seems hc^in^ pardon after punishment. [IIcsitattM. Now, 1 must think upon it for the last. I'll do that which is In ,t I'll call him out. [dw to /tin nf/irr am/ kmtck*. l/un:o comes out. .'1/unzo. Conrad! ik that you' I'l on my word! Con. Ah! no news' Well, that U strange, I do declare! no news! Suppose we take a \\alk' I hate home news! [Ihritatct. .ilun. 1 would, but 1 1 hutc I muht be j^one away. OR, TUP. DEATH OP ALONZO. 43 Cnn. St:iy :i!1 excuse is vain! walk, or do worse. Jlitn. Do what > tliou h:ist no hatred 'gainst a friend? Con. None in the world hcst friend you ever had. .7A//I. Well, indeed! and I am^hcd tohcarit. [Tmnllet. Cun. Why do vou tremble so* Why look so pule? You look like you had been in some had place > You have no lutrcd lodged in heart, for me? Why do you ask that question? ,7/w/i. You look mad! You look an if you had repressed some thought,- , Some hatred which is wont to vent is't so? Cun. 'Tis Mexico. .Hon. Conrad, 1 ask forgivenessdo not kill me! [Kneelt. Con. Alon/o! what's the matter? rise, you fool! [liitca. I said 'twas Mexico the land the sun- That savage land! the things I saw last year! .'lion. I fear that Htmny land! men's heart* grow hot Beneath that sun. Con. It should he warm to friends. .'Hon. Art thou my friend * oh! could I think thee to! Cun. Did I not tell thee so, just now* why not? Thou look'st as if SOUK- foregone dci*d l)cpiiied thcc. \\\\\ not look up, and l>e a IH.UI' do>t love? .iltm. I love my wife and children they arc kind. dm. Hast thou a wife and children? Jllun. Ycs^ 'tis true. Cnn. Kudora is th\ \\ife? .Qlun. No; An^eliiie! [frightened. Cun. Ah! then the people lie they iay, Kudora! .lion. Kudora \cs--l know! hut! 1 thought Cnn. Thought \\hat! Art thou a man? Hast thou a soul? Jinn. I am not what I was! ah! 'tis too hard! Cun. Thou 'rt more than thou wilt ever he aprain! Hun. You will not nmnU r me ? [Frig/tit ned. Cun. ^^"ll\ think vou NO > Dost thou deM-r\e tii die* She hade me ask thee? v Thou wilt not speak, and look'tt as pale as dcath Ditl'st thou IH \i i 1 Imi Kudora > .lion. I did. Con. \Yhy, then, not marry her? * Jlun. 1 could not, then! 44 CONRAD AND KUDORA; Con. Why not * lie not to me-^T know thee, devil! Thou hadst'her moneys in thy lund, thou villain! Why cheat her of IKT" birthright, und thus bring Her" mother into want aiul sorrow ! xju uk * Jlon. Oh! Conrad, do not kill me! 1ft me live! [h'nctl*. Con. Thou, villain! lt thou not deserve, to d.e* .fA//i. Oil! Consul, do mil kill me spare my life! Didst thou ttot tell me^thou wert true, my friend? Con- I did I tlioilgCt thec honest! thou art not! Jbn. Oh! be my fncnd! 1 would that I were deud! i [It 'tt-jit. Con. Would freely die, had'st thou a friend to kill thcc* .7/0/1. Oh! Conrad, spare my life! Con. Ah! hear how he lies! Thou art a traitor to thyself! Jlon. Oh! guilt! Con. Guilt, I think you say* thou art guilty then* Thou prowling 1 wolf, in clothing of a lunib! 'Twould he mueh better if thou ItudM no wife. Jinn. Thou wilt not kill me, Conrad? Con. Think on thy soul! {J'ointn at him. Thou art dying with a eonsoi once-w anting lieart! Aiul 1 am sorrv for thy \\A\- and ehildn-n How many elnldnn have you in this world * Jlun. I have two lovely children! Con. Only two* .Hun. None hut two, on earth! Con. Tlwn name them, if you please. Jilon. Juliet and Anna. Con. Poor Juliet! and poor Anna! Jlltm. I love them. Con. Whieh dost thou love the best, of all the three* .'/////*. I have l>ttt two on t:irt!i Juliet and Anna! Con. Where is Kudoru* \\hne is H!U-, I siiy^ [Hit i. MX /tin tlitgifrr* MM. Conrad, tlo not kill IIM ! I pr:,y for life! [Kitiel*. Think of my wife ;;nd children! Spare them! 4>! Con. Wha'.! did\t t!oi pare Llvira, \\ln n she wept, And niourn'd her only elt.lil' Mm. Have merey on ine! [/!fii*t:v In* /taitJt. Con. What mercy did'.st thou ever giant to her* My poor Kudura! *Did':>t t!ou heed her cries* OR, THE DEATH OP AI.OX7.O. 45 Who c all M upon thcf, in the hour of need* Thou art asham'd to bej* for pardon now! . Did mercy ever know thy -heart' now, tell me!- [Ttifa* him by the throat. .lion. I beg thee for my life! Con. What shall I do> " [1*9* go M* throat. Did I not tell thee, that I wan thy friend' Hon. Then, be my friend! and let UK* live once more! Con. Why did'st thou tell a lie, about thy children' Thou shouhist be nuirdeivd in these itrccts,- comcfiie! We mtut he gone I have a halm for thee! [Hitct. .Hun. Indeed I cannot go I must attend! 1 should l>e, ut this moiii' u', with my friends. Con. Thou will he judged he fore tomorrow morn! Thou wilt he chained, l>y de\ils, do\\ n in hell! .Hon. Why sa\ f st thou' art my friend, and look'st so mad ? 1 cannot understand thee! thou art mud! 1 *ce - thy countenance is fidl of storms! Con. So my lightning kills a traitor, all is well! If I hut prove thy friend then all is right' .Jinn. \ cannot go! I fear some harm may breed! Thou art a ditVcrcnt man fnnn what I thought. Thou art Kudora'* friend! hat seen her? Con. Will! Hon. She is mine enemy! the worst on earth! Con. I last thou not l>een the vilest foe to her.' Hast thou not rolled a mountain on her heart' Must thou not robbed her of her joys in life? And driven her mother from the best of friend*' .Hun. Thou hast set n T.udora! and, I know it We!R 1 must return! I fear thee, for my life! dm. If thou art innocent of crime, why fear' The truth will he thy buluark and thy shield. No man's afraid when he has truth about him. Talk not phdosophv ! that, 1 will teach. Hon. Art thou my friend, ami wilt thou swear it now? Con. I swear, I am thy friend! thy strongest friend! Jilon. Thou hast no enmity at heart' do'st love me? Con. Why! do-t thou not believe a friend? M,n. 1 do! Con. Then go with me, and I will teach thee much! [ A'xtu/*/ Cvnrud and Jlunzo. 48 roNKAD AND KCDOHA; SCF.KE II. In the riciniti/ of Frankfort t on the fCintutky Conrad. Thou hast a wife three children* ami Oiyic.lf! Much money, many enein'es! thou'rt rich! 1 would nol l>e so rich for all this world. Doit ihou not know what caused the Trojan war? How Cacus foil hy Hercules of old.* How Judith murdered llolofi rnei* How Hector fended oil' Achille*' arm* How D.ivid slew (loli.di with a stonr* Thy pandects shall he v.lent in an h:ur! Thou hast more opulence tlu.n patient Jo!)! Thou cun'st not pay thy way to lu-axen, my friend! Hut thoti can'st pay thy vc.xai^e intti hell! 'Twcrc well to gird thy c;-h a!>out tlu-e, now- Thin very ! thine! and all (/on. I don't want any money I want Mood! She, don*t want any money sin- wants hloodj Thou owest thy Me! and she dcmantls I'lV Day! Judgment h.ith come against tlu-c, in iM world; And I, her officer, demand thy He! Thii vcrilict! from the l..w> of (io.l and u.ture, 'Now cry against tin i-, in this manly hand. [X/mwx fi! dagger, Mai. \ pray thee, to forgive me! oh! foi^i\e! dm. Dost thon hi hold tlie moveiiirnt < f that stream^ Then, like fool Canute, hid its waves he still! No more can I retract what I have sworn. Against this execution hast thou none? And 'if thou had'st, it would not bar here's one! [(jirett him a thiggtr. Jllon. Remember my poor children, and my wife! Con. Defend thyself! this heart was born a man's! I will remember one Eudora's cliild! OR, Till: DEATH OF ALOXZO. 47 Rise, ami measure thy coumj^c with tliat dagger! I would not steal away thy We* hy nijjht! .//*!. I cannot! will not hurt llivc! rat her die! 1 owe thce no ill will! and will not strike! I'/Xrrwim ttnirn the dagger. AIM. Tak % up thy ^aiorcr! else thy soul in nne! linn. \ wilt not raise- my hand, if tlioii wilt kill! (V/i. Take up thy daii-r, and defend thyself! Hun. I raimot! will not raise my arm against their! 4 I have \\roniccel Kudora, and am sorry for'l! Oli! l'\e Kilileretl di- ttli a thousand t.nu >! \IVffpt. (\m. Delciul Ihy life I suy! art thoti a man* (o, l>jf! \Slujta hi* fticc % ttnJ kick* Aim. (it* totliy vomit! ;r', foul ho^-! (io to thy \\ullo\v! take thee to thy mire! [JCieJi* him. tin, Judas! h:ili thyself upon a tree! Th:il |>:t^-c r>-!\ , may look at tlu-c and lau^li! She told me what thou art apo^iute! coward! [Kjrniiit .f/onro. Thou tthalt not live Hut I must HCC lier lirs.t t [Jltmc. And tlu-n, hy her request, if she persist, I'll uade across the sea, to cut his throal. Though I despise 1 him as I do a snake 1 know would !*',te me when he hf^etl so hard! 1 could not lu Ip from feeling fur his fate! 'Tis hard to kill a coward! *ts a task! Oh! 'tis a sin to cut a coward's throat! 1/tke Neptune'* t rid tilt at :.u infant hurlM! Now, I will mei-ther, and my thou^ht> perpciul. S( J KN K 1 1 1 ..'/ rntttif in th< Country, t'wfora ti-en waiting, like the lonesome dove, And still, my comforter de-lays his time! 1 fear the \illain lias hi en rash indeed! How anxiety doth fever every nerve! His uin^-s are cleft ii|)on some wate-ry waster Too far away, to fine! his native shore! My thoughts, new perched, hi^h on my panting heart, , Dotli penetrate futurity, j>o dork! 48 CONRAD AND EVDORA? While heaven takes knowledge of indignant wo! Oh! that the messenger would come! peace! peace! Then could my sickened spirit find repose. That bright destroying Angel to my iioul, Now guards life's Paradise, with outstretched armii And yields his increase unto virtuous good. The tilings around me, arc not as they were! The tribute that 1 owe him oh! how great; 'Twill take a life time to repay his love. "Why does he slay? he surely can't forget! His nc art has been so kind to poor Eudora! Methinks 1 should be twining rosy wreathes! Where shall I find fit laurel* for his brow? A coronet of roses shaft adorn his head! This tender heart shall bo his chanlet, all my life! I'll feed him on the utmost of mv love Gather the first blown flowers ofr the spring, And waft him praises in my soul's deep songs! What, if, by some unmanly means, he fall! The world would be an opposite t3 life! Nonentity! a chaos of dark shades! Me thinks 1 hear him come oh I would it were! [Conrad mtet* her, and the embrace* Aim. Oh! Conrad! Conrad! thou hast saved my tear*. My soul went out from self, to search for thcc! It wandered from its dwelling like a birdt And like the faithful dove, bewailed its mate! Dids't thou not hear some deep dolorous sound? Oh! 'twas the wide vibrations of my soul! Thine absence caused such tempests in my heart Con. Oh, Eudora! thy voice is so divine! Speak on, my gentlest! feed my longing heart J2tM/. They dashed their waves against life's sandy shore, And washed away the footprints of mv hope. But on the sea of life my bark still sailed, As virtue stood, to guide her, at the helm. Oh.! joy to thee, sweet Conrad! joy of joys! [timbraeti Aim. Con. With thee, Eudora, all my life is love, Eternal sunshine gilds my former gloomy And hurls his sacrilegious heart to dust W. Whathastthoudone? widdid'sttliouicc Alonxo? OR, TUB DKATH OF ALONKO. 49 Can. Oh! yen, I've seen him what a timid man! lie tiirnM biographer, with precious speed, Ami wrote thy life in characters of i^old. He m:ule thee out the Magdalen of old! As tranquil as the bright, unclouded moon Oh! how he hejfif'd to m-e his satellites! He liegirM me to In friend his litt'e s'ars; And call'd them rose-buds s'nti-rs of his soul. And when he call'd his wife, he wept aloud AM big as sorrows self! and said, 't wan hard! That he had dune thec wrong, and suflcr'd for *l! I chok'd him, as a villain should he rhok'di As visions of stupendous wrath rosr hijfh, Ami dinnn'd his eye-halls! from fiin Htr.inplinjf heart, Itush'd up his throat, olympic K*u'dt, and ffazM, With fren/y leaping fnim his throhhing braint Till, [round ahout went swimming in his tears! 1 pave this tla^er to him, to defend his life, And, like a willow twi^, snapt from its stem, Fell prostrate, tremhlinK 1 at his nj^ly self \Vhile I stoo Jllvtr. I do not know! I only know he's gone! That is I understand this from a friend. As I am travelling f:ir beyond the west, I must be gone and bid you both farewell. [Exeunt. Con. If he is gone, Eudora! thou art happy? End. My soul huth made firm promise unto thee, On one condition that, is this, alone And if thou dost not take his life, I know, Thou cans't not be my friend 1 further know, Thou can'st not .bear up under my misfortunes! And, if tliou cans't not, tell me now Oh! grief! [Wtept. OR, THE DEATH OF ALOJttO. 51 Con. What would'*! thou have me do, my dear Kiidorm? Kwl. I tell thec now, this hand dial! ne'er be thine, Until you wash my misery clean with blood! Con. 'Til done, a* sure as said hut he in gone! ^W. (io hunt him through the world'* wide range! Search cv'ry nook and corner of creation, And Ic! me feast mine eyes upon his Mood! And I will smile and he exceeding glad. 1 must behold his life-Mood on the blade, And ThoiiKis like, must touch it with my hands? 'Tis not because I love his bl(M>d, or thirst his life But 'tis, because he was unkind to poor Kudora! Then cavil not at death demur at nought; 1 will not bear mistrust it augurs fear. I would not have a coward in my sight- I do detest .such bipeds, with my soul! If thou dost love me well then, risk thy life! And manifest it in this injur'd cause. Enter A LI- in: n. Conrad meet* him. Alfred. Good da v, Kudora Conrad! art thou well? [.Shake* hand*. Can. Well, 1 thank thcc thou art from Frankfort, friend? Alfred. 1 am. Con. Then, what's the news in town to day? Alfred. Nothing nothing worth your while. Cun. That's all well. And has no person left of late > Alfred. Not one. foil. Has not Alonzo left! Alfred. No; not he, I swear. (\m. Then Alver '.s told a lie 'twai all a joke. Alfred. Joke or no joke, he's there I must be gone I have some business in the west adieu. Con. Then let him go who cares? I do not care. [Exeunt ALI mi. Eud. Now, Conrad! is the time the appointed time. Get you a mask! go, dress yourself in Muck, And during the election, get him out Then, no one will suspect by whom he'i kill'd! But all will say the rival party did it 2 * CONRAD AND KV DOR A; i%-, *. . The mob political fcgamst hit side ! V 'Now it your time tbis very night 'tis dark! Con. But mark we must tlisposc of all we havci That, when the deed is done, we leave the state, ; And not procrastinate our speedy flight; Lest, that prorogue endanger both our lives! Then, I must leave thec to attend the sale. Eud. When thou dost come, bring blood upon thy dagjrer! t Dost thou not kill him, see my fucc no more! Con. I'll kill him, if he have the life to lose. [Start uway. End. Nay, stay, one sweet embrace before you jyo! [in bract*. May all success attend you to the end. And when thou shall return, with triumph crown'd I will be waiting 1 at this gate, with smiles With open arms, to meet thec and rejoice. Ueavcn bless you, Conrad! peace be thine, my love! Ccwi. Once more, Kudora! could 1 take thy smiles, They would be piloU through this stormy sea. Eud. Let not reluctance weigh upon thy purpose. Be buoyant as a turtle on the wing. Let future happinesn illume thy thought. Take thou, this dove into thy bosom's ark, And lift thy expectation into' bliss. Had I a strong Herculean arm, by heavens! I'd ride ambition with a lightnings' speed, And furl him, with his foul companion dust! And thou, the Neptune to my soul's wide sea, Should breathe the Adriatic gules of love, And fix thy trident in his fai'hless heart! Con. The *unhcams of thy smiles doth vegetate Mv heart till vigour blooms my vermeil cheeks. Thine a/ure lamps twin born divinities! Illume the sanctuary of my soul, And turn this deed to sanctifying light While, from thy sighs, balsamic odours riti^ To waft luxuriance through my courag'd sou!* Perhaps, my love, 1 ne'er may see t'lee more! And now, before I go, 1 would be&ccch you- fr OR, Tlltt DEATH OP ALO5ZO* J . ' If any portent should retard my speed, t Be firm in mind, as love is infinite- The best of Fingul's heroes speaks to thec! lie looks beyond this '>ltic expanse of time, ... Till distance makes diminutive his sight ; ^ ' And not u thrill of pain disturbs the calm! There ham?* a iu>lemn thought above this heart This citadel of mortal life beyond all hound*; Which doth inspire me with :i feeling so intense, That infinite makes magnitude of self. Kud. Conrad! urt thou as timid as thou scem'ft? Con. I um no huge glad'ator, u ithont soul! A man may have his purpose-, and still feel. There are strange m xtures in this chalice, lifej And, though I re I sh half, must gulp down all! This firm pedestal, on the which I .stand, Will never hold a monument like this! While hope o'crtop* the pinnacle of thought, And looks magnificent in loftiest flight- The cloud of conscience has cclip>'d my soul! While nature, frighten'd, sluinht rn in alarm! If I depart from thei to-morrow morn Shall wake thee with a dawn, UIIH en before! AW. What! after thou hast fastened on hit heart, And earth grow pregnant with his hlood? And meet it as the river meets the sea* COM. The overture may echo back the deed! As thunder travels on, from eloud to cloud! (food nii; lit to satisfaction infinite! If thin should be the sequence 'hen, pood night! Harmonious tones of Wonderful despair, Would drive out melody, and jar thy soul! /,W. Why steal 'ruin tune, that which thou canal not pay > fort. I woidd thou had'st some instrument to play. /.W. 1 want no in-;rument, but thy intent. !\m. i'an fane*' jienetratr that nui/.y morn, Wh'"*!; dawns o:. t!iy expectaney^ Ktuf. My fancies tell me thou can'st melt that maze! Con. I Kin upon an embassy of deepcbt crime! The angel's minister but do no more! And, in the night'* profoundcst solitude, I ,64 CONRAD AND Ef DOR A J ; V > Whcft At* with his fond Gahtca lies, . I will,* on ^Etna's peak, look down with fire , ' The harvest of my hate is fully ripe, And all his vintage trod beneath my feet! ,, Eud. Lives there a desolation in thy heart,? Affection has a toilsome journey through Con. Then, he must die! Sec how this lion sleept! [/'/ hit dagger* This Morpheus h*s a lion for his pillow! , Hut, when, from slumber, I hall say, awake! [Drawtit. The very strings of nature shall crack loose! And then, the poppy that hhall drowse his blood, Shall make life's languid hold, let go of self. Eud. That sleep should be his soul's divinity i The tribune be his grave a* 1 his slave! And thousand times ten thousand devil* friends! Through all the dark compartment* of his heart, Shall darker midnight meet eternal gloom! Can. Then, fond limit MM! lov'd by me so well, I will be dutiful to thec, who, lend'st Unto my future life, endearment dear. [Hinlirucra her and leave*. Eud. Jlltmt. Now, I must bid adieu to joy uijain, Until he comes. Oh! how 1 do mistrust. 1 will not close mine eyes, this blessed night- No not until that sacred pledge be seal'd{ And this proud heart to him, alliunced be! Then, when the morning dawn shall wake to light, My soul shall radiate misfortune's nitrht. {Exeunt Eudura. SCENE \\.-Frankfort Time, jl/if//j /*/. Conrad en- tern frttm the, luccrn t wtilk* the */rf7, dramcd in dark clothe t with a maxyuc on his facet and t with difficulty t finds Jlnuzt'a hmme. Co.x m AD with a papur in his hand. This is a cunning cU-cd like all such deeds) This very deed, perhaps, may save my life! We cure diseases by revulsion build Up action in a part, by causing parts To act This deed may be my warmest friend, OH, T1IB HEATH OP ALONZO. 65 "Tin thus through life, one deed blots out another, As poisons ncutrali/e by antidotes. This is my aim. I've sought the clerk three times, A lid still, I have not found him at his home. "Twas my desire, when first 1 came, to have % This deed recorded first, that it might hide Suspicion, and be evidence for guilt Therefore, record a deed to do a deed! A deed recorded, hhall excuse a deed. And, if the crime of murder be found out As most of murders are in spite of proof, "Twill bring me out, by law, a guiltless man. Now, if I had some friend to lure him out. While I could strike the recreant dead hut, hark! In such a deed, we could not find a friend. Now, if the watchman find me out, this masque Shall be thrown oil I may be thought a slave! - * You see this hat this very hat, I found [Takriuff hUhal. Two hundred miles away beside a wood , * I took it left one dollar in its place, , ' . And said, old hat thou art my humble friend! For ought 1 know, this was a preacher's hat; How long he may have fought against the devil, AnU still, in his achievement, fail'd at last. Now, when I put it oil', should it be worn Again 'twill only consecrate the head, That 'ncath this crown, may say the devil's dead! [(iocs fo n wimlutn nnkx in but tftn-g nut find him. I'crhaps that is the place and I mUtake. Tis truethe sign the sign the doctor's sign! [ Ijtttks ttjt a ml r rat Is the liipt. This is the place, and F mu>t change my name. [(/of* to t/if t/imr nni/ kiutrk*. /'///* In'* /mutt in hi* ttofom. .7 j "finale ifi/rt 1 i In tin/ trithint/tr wife uf .ilnn:o. Jlngtlint. \ would not venture out this time o night [Conrad knuck*. .Honzo. Who's there' C Indeed 1 do not know you'd better sec. [ Knoflf* tii^ain and luokt round. .lion. Who can this be HO late at night? < [Open* t/ie dtntr and *tcp* back. Con. Rehold! [Throw* of hi* majtijuc ami take* him by the. t /trout. Look in my face, and call my name? Alon. Conrad! Conrad! "do not kill me, have mercy! Con. Where is my wife? now, villain! die die die! [Stub* him. Now, pray! if thou can'.st pray, now nray now die! Now, drink the wormwood which Kudora drank. [MtiM/ti him. Jltunzo diet. [ Conrad ru*he* out and Is *ern no more. Angelinc, .'Jlonzo't wife, run* in the rotim t *rr<-,////>, ami full* it/ton hi* brctut. dm*. 'Tin he *tU he Conrad has kill'd Alon/o! Oh! my husbiuul! my husl>:nul! thou art dead! 'TU he *ti he llie wretch has kilPd Alon/.o! [7*he doctor, f/o/iro* brother, ruth fa hi, crying, murder murder! Watchmen and citizen* ruxh in, crying, mur- dermurder! Jllonzo't dead! *llon:o'* dtad! Citizen.*. Who, under (!od' heavens could have done thii deed? fine. *Ti he 'lin he ! Conrad has kill'd Alonzo! Hatch. Who did it? speak! itpeak! Conrad kill'd Alonzo? Ang. Conrad *twa Conrad, kill'd my husband ! dead! Oh! death death death! what will become of me! Doctor. Did you see his face ? my (itxl! 1 know 'twas he! Ang. I saw his face I heard hi* voice he's gone! [dngelinc ft tin hi* iml*e, white the rc*t look round. Oh! my husband my husband leath death! Speak, Alon/o! *pc:ik to Aujceliue No pulse my husband'* dead! he's gone!- he's rone! [fuintt away on hi* breast. The watchmen tind eiti- zen* take her into an adjoining room, bt or ACT in. OB, THK DEATH 0V ALO5SO. . 67 ACT nr. 8CRNR I. Frankfort. Time, morning. 7%t Doctor, brother of Jlonzo, theriff, guard* and citizen* meet the tavern where (\ntrud ,- Sheriff to the Innkeeper. Did you not hear Alonzo was Innkeeper. Dead! [dead? iS'Arr. Some savage person, murdered him, last night. Iiikeep. KdlMhim! was he murdered! merciful heavens! I never heard the like in all my life. fiber. He wan stubbed about the seventh rib, and died! And 'tis my duty to investigate And find, with speed, who that vile villain was. Inkrep. Yes, certainly 'tis. Sher. "We are requested to inquire of you, Who tarried here lust night? Inkerp. 1 do not know. [Point* to the bar. There is the register find out his name. Xher. Yes, here it is. Now, lead us to his room. Innkeep. He's gone! gone long ago! he left by light! ' fiber. Then, let us search his room. * Innkeen. Was he the man? Alter. *Tis said he was the very man! Innkeep. Who saw him? *Tis best to weigh the thing not be too sure. Dottvr. He was the very man! Innkeep. How do you know? fhct. Alonzo's wife, sir, SHW him do the deed. Innkeep. Where was lie? Ihct. In the room adjoining hers. Rhc said she heard his voice, and knew it well. But there are other things, which made her know it. Alonzo told his wife, a year ago, lie swore eternal vengeance to his face? Innkeep. Well, well! search his room 'tis all no use. Rher. Where is his room* we must search his room! Innkeep. Porter, take the sheriff to Conrad's room. (S'/im/r, Af/or, and citizen* go in hi* room h search. Innkeeper to Edgar. 'Tis strange Uut Conrad should be such a man! , 58 CONRAD AND Fl'noli A ; What circumstance has led them to suspect? A milder face, than his, I never saw. He drank my health before he left this morning, And hoped the governor, who rule* the state, Might he elected jovial an you please. I do not understand, why they suspect, That Conrad kilted that nun! do you know* Edgar. Why, I believe Alon/.o's wife, sometime Before Ilia death, oVrhcard him say, 'twas bent To leave the stale that, Conrad threatened death! Now, 1 believe she neither saw nor heard him. But, 'twas a tiling long looked for, by them both. Jnnkccj). You don't say so! 1 never beard a word! What quarrel bad they? they were always friends? Edgar. Yes; they were friends, as far as I have known. liuikttp. I want to know, then, why they say 'twaa Conrad? I never saw a countenance so mild! Edgar. 1 always liked him be was always kind. Innktep. They have no cause to search the room for Edgar. Perhaps they have some cause! [him! Jnnkttp. What is that cause * . Ed gar. You know, about three years ago, Alonzo Paid uii first addresses to Kudora Innkeep. Well! now, what has that to do with this case ? Edgar. That is the very thing to breed a murder! * Innkeep. Then, you believe that Conrad killed Alonzo! Edgar. I should believe that, just as soon as not. Innketp. 'Tis strange, that you believe without some proof! Did any enmity exist between 'em* Edgar. I do not know, but 1 expect there did Alon/o did not act the gentleman! Innkecp. How ! did not act the gentleman! with whom? Edgar. \ bate to say, precise,* but, things arc such, That one might think, that, as he loves Euilora Knowing, tJiat dead Alonzo did deceive her! One, I say, might think that Conrad killed him! I know what 1 would do, in &uch a case.. Innkefp. Did you say, Alonzo's self deceived her? Edgar. 'Tis said, he did! 1 did not see him do it >' OR, TflB DEATH OF ALONIO. 69 Junket p. All! is that nil >_wouM you believe uch trash? He, kill a niun. because 1liut man deceived Kudora! 'twas her fault! she was to blame! %Vhv dill he not unite \\ith sonic one else? Kttgnr. It may be so, and like enough, I guess* Such thing* exist, that death 's the only means Can give her satisfaction!- thi*, I know. Junket p. There is some part I have not heard speak out! Edgar. Alonzo promised marriage did deceive her! Stole her virtue; and left her on the world! Jiinkren. What! he did not ruin Flvira's child! Ktlgur. So says the world. What every body nay*, Of course, is true. Jnnkeeu. Then, damn him! let him die' s Edgar. I say M>, too! I would have done the same; I say, whut Conrad did, wan manly right! Jnnkeeu, What! have my child* abused? my child! my child! I'd lose my life, and fifty lives beside, To shield "my daughter Iroin a gi'pii'if world! - He should have killed him in the open streets. Edgar, lie mute the hhcriiV comes we must be calm. Sheriff and citizens return with a handkerchief, found on Conrad* Led. Sheriff. Look here! behold this handkerchief, and weep! This hunderchief was left upon h : s bed! Look at this living htain, and read his guilt! [.v//oir* tin- Lloud on the handkerchief. Now, who would a&k for better proof than this? Behold the very cordial of his heart! Sec, where the savage wiped his dagger on it! And, trutl), to shame the devil, left it here! This works materially to his disgrace. Doclvr. Give it to me it shall be evidence in court. [He taken it and cut* it with hit knife. Behold! look here! the villain's name's upon it! See where the dagger pierced it, as 'twas wiped! Oh! my brother! (weeps.) Let him travel crosi the sea, But I will find him justice sluJl be dealt! 60 CONRAD AND KUDoR AJ Now, Mr. Sheriff, you have neon thi* blood! I do adjure you, by tin- sorrow which I feel, To deputise to ynur men, and bring him bacl^ 'Ti but un evening'* rule to where lie live*. Then, by my oath, invented in thU writ, You bring him buck, if ho in in thin world. Oh! my brother! my brother! dead und gone! [ 1 1 fry M, ffilff OM He did what you, and I, und ull had done! Iwo\dd have tracked him through white Kcmhla'f mows, And Uack, from thence, throughout Arabia's Hands By heavens! 1 say, he acted like a man! [\\\uvs his hand. A child 's a tiling so near a father's Nt-lf, He would not see her harmed! and think you, sir, I'd have a wife, and know she had been harmed- Live with her* love her fold her in my arms And, like an easy coward, mope all day, And sleep all night, and her seducer live? Thou urt no man! tliou art a thoughtless fool! MfT. Come, men! 'tis time we must obey the law. We have no use for such a man as thai 1 [^uinting to the Junket per. Exeunt ahtrijf and hi* guard. Edgar to the Iiinkctper* \Vc have done wisely, in a twofold sense. But, mark me! did )ou not observe that skill* That man who cut the 'kerchief! mark his oath! He docs not know that Conrad killed his brother- Any more than you or 1 he only thinks! We all may think but thinking will not do! He knows one thing he knows three things- And these three things all Frankfort know*! That, dead Alon/o treated her unkind Deceived her, in the utmost of her hopes! And, more than all, he takes it home to self; And, though Uc feel*, were he in Conrad'* place- OR, THE DEATH OF ALOXZO. 61 HcM do the name still, he must have revenue! And mure, to change preHiimption into truth, Ho make* old circumstance look young |e tear Conrad's heart! Now, he will swear that handkerchief wan cut, Aiul, that the rent was nude h\ Conrad's dagger! Therefore, coiuleiiincd, or not condemned hv*s wrong! Iiinkrrji. How many ways to kill a do^c beside hanging. /iVjrijr. Perhaps, it was a party inoh, at last! Innkirp. I wish it so- for Cour.nl ix a man- He is a man amongst a thousaml nu-n! AV/^/r. (iood day! 1 wish you well. . Tin- haute to you. [AVfun/ omnft. SCKNK If. .^ cttthifzf in I fie country, whrrr Rttdora //net. iS'Af ir #laniling at the ^ down then rise a^ainj And now, 'tis almost nit^ht, lu* lias not come! Sure, if lie (Iocs not i omi* ere ni^lit ivturns, My heart must (juile inisp\c t 'ti.> now so wi-ak! Conrtid rclurn* t rm/nxtti /.'afr be happy smile! AVeep not, my love! my wife! thoii art my wife! Then weep, witli teai-s of joy, for he is gone! AW. Oil! Conrad! Conr.ul! have you let him go? Where is the v.lla 11 gone 1 oh! tell inr, quick! Co/I. He's j;*one to hell! where all iK'duceit go! I'lud. The serpent's one again! Con. He has, nty love. Jtutl. Then, I am done for ever! COM. Weep not, my love! tliou hast one friend on earth. And he tlu' strongest of all friends! AW. Then m>! [Discontentedly. The love of all thy friends? nay, all the uoild In centered in thi* one 1 am thine all! 62 CONRAD AND EV DO* A; Thou art no friend to me! oh, no? no! not [Wctpt. Con. What! will thou, in the face of heaven, betray me* Eud. Betray thee, Conrad! oh! 1 love that look.! * ' [IsK>kti at him. Con. By heavens! my practice should be made an art! And thou, betrayer, deceived! to full like [7xW. Thv betrayer! ' [Jwks sternly at her. ud. Speak, Did'st thou say he fell? Con. Idid I say he fell! Eud. And is he dead? Con. 1 told thee, sweet Kudora! he was gone! Eud. Thou did'st where is he gone? Con. Gone down to hell! [I'ointf down. Eud. Where is the dagger? let me see the blood upon it! Con. Here, by his friend, asleep! there, let him rest, Like wearied child upon its mother's breast! Eud. Did 'si thou inter it in his faithless heart? Con. I did but disinterred it o'er again I could not let it rot in Mich a grave! *Tis best to let it sleep, as sleeps the sleeper! Lest, showing it, thou long'st for other's blood! Eud. There is no one on earth, whom 1 would harm I would not hurt a hair in virtue's head! Con. Thou would'st not harm a hair, but break a heart! Eud. Ho\v, break a heart, my love? Con. 'Tis best tike cure! End. Oli! what a cruel hoart, to forge such words! Oh! I would die for thee, ten thousand deaths! Con. Thou wilt betray me, just as sure as fate! Eud. Betray thee * never! never, in thU world! Give me thy hand, my love look in my fuce! * . . Con. 1 see thy face thy soul thy heart and life! * Thv soul, and eye, and heart will all betray me! AW. If thou can'itt prophesy, keep sorrows dark! Con. He's gone! I could not help itl-^oh! he's gone! Eud. Then, farewell pride! then, farewell hope and love! Farewell, sweet Conrad! oh! that I were dead! Con. Wake np, young sleeper! bringthy deeds to light! And set thy prisoner free! [Gratjj* ki duggrr* Eud. Forgive me, oh! [A'/irr//i Con. Look at this dagger! sec it for the last! Bee how tliat angel bright, points up to heaven! [it OR i TU* DEATH OP ALO^ZO, 09 Bid T not tell thee thou wouldst soon betray me! I heard thee swear thou woukUt be true and kind. [Take, her hand. Honest woman, 'tis thy nature, *ti thy life ; Why doi^ thou not behold thy friend, "and smile f Kise, secst thou not upon that dagger, blood! Look at it crimson from the tide of life! 'Tin done! then, 1 am thine, and thou art mine. Eud. My friend, oh! let me kiss thy life away! How dii you meet* did he not hurt thee, lore! Con. liow could he, when I killed him at one blow! And when he ope'd the tloor 1 caught his throat, Then said, where is my wife* now, villain, die! And, with one stroke, 1 brought him to the ground. End. Then, thou art safe-, -and no one saw thy face? Con. No soul on earth ; 'twas done in dead of night $ And ere he died, 1 took me back to bed, And, in the morning, woke, and thought of thee. Kud. Then, thou art safe, and I am lull of joy. Con. Hut stay, by truth! I have forgot one tiring, My name is on the handkerchief, 1 left! /,W. Left where, my love! Co/i. Upon the bed 1 slept in. ' AW. He not disturbed, that will avail them nought. dm. 1 am disturbed about that handkerchief: What if his brother find it! he will swear He saw me have it there! A'uJ. I reckon not. Con. He has a thousand frirnds would swear the same! /.W. Ah! would they perjure truth and honesty? Co/i. They would perjure neither, but ihcmcl\ cs. No, sweet Kudnra! if 1 um molested, . My only recompense is thee, thou dove! Then let us go, we must, through life, be one. They enter thc.cdtiag+are married. Enter offteer and guards t to t^. him. Officer goes to the gate and calif. Sheriff. JIuJUo there, Conrad! come thee out this way! ** **" [/JWora olid Conrad come to the dour* ' Kud. Do not g*>, my love I they arc your enemies. Shcr. Sweet kuly! we arc all his friends, as thine. 64 CONRAD AND EUDOHA J Thou, friend! I would have thee for my fnend. Shrr. W.e wish to speak with Conradwe're hU friends. Con. What would'st thou have with me> Officer. But one kind word. Con. They have no proof, my love! 'tis best I go! [Jttidc to Eudora. For, if I stay, you know they may suspect me! 'Twill lend them argument to new suspicion. They know, my love! he did thy virtue wrong-. That heaven should have chastised him long ago! That it bchoov'd me to defend thy shame! They kill mistrust by heaping guilt on me Thereby, acknowledge, hlimllv, all his guilt. Tis best, perhaps, 1 go be calm, my love! And 1 will come back free, and love thee still, [lit goei* Off. Conrad! here is a writ 1 wish youM read. [Hand* him a paper. You know my duty, as a man in office-. Con. This is a writ accusing me of murder! [Itcadi. Tis strange! I do declare! who swore to this? Off". His name is signed below there, you can ice! Con. The liar's name's not worth my guiltless search I- What would'st thou have me do.' Off. Go back again! Con. That, 1 will never do, while I have breath! . Off. That argues guilt! Con. I value not your thoughts. They are but wind they come and then, they go! Off. You know my duty, Conrad!- do you not? Con. 1 do! and know my duty as a husband! Off. We all are subject to the Uw. Con. I'm not! I am not subject never will I be! * Off. Do not persist we must obey the !iw! Con. Obey just what you please 1 care not what! [DitdainfuUy* Off. This argues, man! not only fear, but guiltl Twas said, thou would'st refuse!- then, why not go? Con. Because 1 liave a stronger tie to atay ! Off. But, if the law requires your presence, 50? Why not give absence, sir, your ties to hoiJ, Until your brief return . ? we all have v/;v;9 ; OR , THE DEATH OP ALONZO. . ' 65 At home! still, we are here! * Con. My wife it ill! Off. There st amis your wife we see that hi is kind!^?** We love her kindness, and admire your love! > And she is willing you should yield to law? ; ' < '" End. No; 1 am not! and he shall never go! Off. Sweet lady e! we arc ull his friend*, as thine! We wish to act as wisely us we can. Con. Then act, and act I'll die before I'll go! Off. We wish the truth unfolded to the world. 'Tis that for which we came for which we live; And, if you still persist thou art the man! [J J ointt at him. And we arc bound, by law, to take you buck. Con. Then, take me back! 1 will not pro stand back! [J)rawt hit dagger. Off. Sieze on him, guards now take him take him back [He thrown them off, and Eudora niahn between. Eud. Oh! Conrad! Conrad! these are thine enemies! Con. Stand oft'! approach me not else thou shalt die ! [ I'ointt to tfie officer. As many more, as I have power to kill. Thy mother bare thy father no such sons! Thou hast no brother with so proud a heart! Thy brother no such brother as I am. 1 am a lion 'mongst a thousand men. Encounter no such man 'twould be a shame! \fhcn storms arc rajr-ng, and the winds blow high, The talletit trees bend lowest to the ground; And I would spill thy blood on earth, like rain! Off. We would not harm thee all we want is justice! We must abide by what the law invokes I- The writ demands thy body back to court. Con. What if thou could'st not find me > go back cmptv^ [ Tauntingly. Oh! what a vacuum! thou hadst better fill! Choke up existence with some useful thought; And learn your motley calves obedience! [I'oint* at the guard. Off. Thou art no common man then, use thy sense. * AW. Oh! Conrad! do not .hear that half starved wolf. He's murdered many a lamb in nature's fold; ,. G 00 ' CONRAD A!fD ETJDORA; ^ And lonfri thy life, as doth a mink for blood. Off. Come, let me speak with thce alone 'tis best! [Kudora hulds Conrad. Eud. Noj they will kill thce, by the way, my love! [ lYccpt. Off. Nay, gentle ladyc! we are not so savaurc. [Officer whiif/jcrti to Conrad. Con. Weep not, my love! 'tis best that I should go. 1 am as safe a* truth, us clear as heaven! One sweet embrace! now calm thy gentle heart! [Embrace n her. Farewell, Eudora! Eud. When wilt thou return? Con. To morrow morn! to morrow morn, my love! Off. Tis best, a thousand times the best 'tis ri^ht. [Exeunt Eudora. Let me see that dagger which you hold? I do not a-sk it, to educe more fears! Con. I have no fears! I do not know the term. There is the dagger look it black with gazing. [I funds it. See'st thou much blood upon that burnish'd blade > Off. We thank you for your kindness give you thanks. [Luoktatit. Guard. That dagger made that wound, as sure us death ! Con. Docs that man's wound resemble daggers? Off. No. Con. They should, to bear your definition out! You'd have the dagger and the wound born twins! You have your logic ail Corinthian brass, And prick your ears at nothing, like an a**! Off. I say, this dagger 16ok* much like that wound. A charitable deed, 1 '11 take tt home. [I'ul* it in hit pocket, with the htmdktrrhiff wrajtcd round it. Turn* to the, guard. Now, if the prisoner is not guilty men; Then, we have done our duty and tis well; [litre Conrad Attain t/ie daggtr and hundkircJiief out nf hit pocket. But guilty, or not guilty, who can tell? [Officer Itad* him out. Guard* follow. Euthira returnt. Good heavens! 1 could have wept a thousand tears! * :* OR, THE DEATH OP ALOlfZO. B7 Now, we commence another path of thorns! I thought mv utmost hope was tpicnch'd in blood; Hut now, I fear 'twill end us both in death! [Wtfpt. Klrini enter*. Oh! mother! he is gone the guard is gone! He is accused of murder he is gone! [J1*efp*. AYr/rw. Kudora! why art all these tcurs, my clu'M? AW. The guard hath borne him ofVto prison! AYr/ra. Oh! calm thy fears he reconciled they're friends! No doubt hut he will come, when all is right. Thou hast shed tears enough!- come, let us home! [A'xfu/*/ AYr/ra and AWora. 8CKNK 111. .1 fourt liottte in Frankfort. Juc?$e t Law* ytr* t Jury t ll'itncs&tx and Citizen* waiting hit trial. Judge. Conrad accused of murdering Aloiuo! Jury and witnesses are sworn proceed! J)arby xptaks fnr plaintiff. With the writ in hit hand. May it please your honour! I would speak in vain, Did I not know this man achievM that death! This man has killed a statesman, whom we loved; And no one here can help but feel his loss. A Ion /o \vas that man! you knew him well! , We once were boys he had a noble heart. He would not brook a wrong, to clothe -disgrace. * 1 never knew that r: u achieve one wrong. Jlut he was prudvnt honored loved by all, ,., * And none said ought, to stain his sacred name! That he was killed by sonic tinfricitdlv blow- f The weapon and the wound doth testify! That he was murdered in the dt ad of night. When none but Clod's all seeing eye could sec! That he was killed by C'ourad*s iron hands, Done on that \erv night 'ie hwlg'd in town \\ IIH h mouItU siispieion into Hindi-led truth- Is, also, suorn to, in this sacred \vrit! There was, upon his bed, a kerchief found, Impicrced \vith sneli like blade, as made tin* \\ound! Ai.tl more than all, there stands Alon/.o's \\ile. Clothed in dark widow -hood, and weeds, that mourn! She saw him with her eyes, and heard his curse 68 COXA A D AKD EC DOR AJ Now, the** are tnithn, when known, must make us feel I- Yes, ttir the recess'd fountain* of our soiHs But mark ! before 1 let one witness speak, Should not this grand tribunal weep? Should not our heart* gush out respective tears?* Not only for tliut murderer's cruel fate, nut that, hy your ronlve, through conscience sworn, Ilii soul shall stand at that tribunal heaven! By all thai i* humane and dear to in m By all that justice and religion teach! By all on earth, and all in heaven above, (With all the evidence 1 may adduce) This man should sufVer unto lav fid death! Judge. Then, cull the witnesses and let them speak. Darby. Then, Angcline! btfpre this court and jury, Relate the most you know of tin* imn'a guilt. Aug. I saw Alon/o fall, and heard his voice! Con. Is that the first bad tiling you saw, that night? My husband! then, 1 fell upon his breast! Darby. Relate the most you know whether or not, You saw Alon/o fall hy Conrad** hand* .fug. I saw that bloody rebel! heard his voice! [JVetpi* Con. At first, she said, the first thintc that she saw, "Was poor Alon/.o! ah! where did he fall? AniZ. lie died in the adjoining room from mine. Con. You was not in the room then, where he fell? How could you see him fall hy Conrad's hand* .ffl. I heard him, when lie stabbed him to the heart! Con. May please your honour! innocence can plead, Without disguise, her own truth telling cause. There is no truth in what this woman swears. She saw me not this needs no argument. The ham) kerchief, which they suggest, us proof; The)', no doubt, found upon my bed but mark! i' A true as you are judge, tin y'mude the rent! That handkerchief \\a sound, when I return'd; ^\nd, its to blood, there may have been some blood; But, from no mortal's heart on earth, but mine. That, poor Alon/.o fell by Conrad** hand, That, all of us do mourn liis sudden loss, That he was bruvc, and kind, and good to man! OR', Til?: DEATH OP ALONZO. 00 That, he was once a schoolboy, full of fun i Ami, all such ptly argument as this, The phantom visions of a moon-struck hrain! . The skv horn fancies of a t mi tor's soul! Choked full of yellow dust, call'd money gold! That I rose early left my kerchief, ' true; Hut not more true, than, 'that I always And each, ami all have known, of you, no good! 1 tell this jury ami this sapient court! And all, who hear me, in my self-defence! That you have robbed your clients of their fees! Tliat you have yearned to filch the widow's mite! u 2 . . . . ,J. 70 f rovin!) JniD KUDORA; .* ^i?".* . Tnai rou tlMre brought poor orphan* into want ! ( AI d'.d Il4.it man, for whom you lie this tUv- ) / c:ir ilc witncHU ofl! And no\v, I say, a atmn^cr unto love, (And wheh a man's a foe to fcimle virtue, That muu's a foe to tJf, io God, and hcuvcn! Whose wonU arcjieudacltcs, which distract the brain! "Whose voice is mania, and whose sunk 1 * arc clouds!) Will, then, thb ^rand tribunal Ucir such noise M- Judge. As Uc u not arrui^nc^ for any crime, But counsel for the plaintiff, in this cause, * I know no reason why he should not speak; 9 Jf, wlyit he suy, be fuhc, the court .can judge. ttarby. Then, sir, the nature of this case demands My voice! Look at Uiat widow's tears, and weep! ' [Tuinti to Jngclint. Look on that ajfony! that rooted strife! Which lifts up, into heaven, exalted wo! Look at her check, bedewed with tender tears! 1 sav, Alonzo was a noble man Con. Not if you judge him by the fruits he bore! Darby. 1 say, Alonzo was a man of loftiest mind! A statesman, sir! of whom we should be proud ft A gentleman, acknowledged from his youth Con. No man's a gentleman until he's twenty-one! Darby. I say, Alonzo died! was killed at night! When all was silent, not a star did shine Cti' int UK< I | J'i 1'M o! III. ! MO hmr>! 'I ho k (\mUri* hii'l Mild di||i,i I ulltill h> lthoWII| And, ilihi; u-nl In bnth, in hlmpo mid M/.I-, Do not accord with fucU, as with wound, With, also, ail Oio threats exposed to OH, THE DKATlf OF ALOFT IO. ^ * ' 71 , Then, all I 'vc said, it vain, untrue and a . f Dnrlnt *MaJc lo thi Shtrijf. Then bring the dnfrgtr nnd Ihr 'krrcliltf herel ' Thry uliull coiilirni tin- tniih* \v1iYU I huvc spoke*) ' I A'/r/ /-//T *rarflir 9 bill e/innot J(i\A them. I hail till III hut 1 run not find thrm Itowf , Con. Now, I could h;y, tic ncvor hay. M.i) please the court! I have one witnew more (I'uiiilt to tl* Doctor. , There is a tendril of the same dear vine, 4 From which, so many buds, doth yearly spring 1 -*- i n IN tin' Inii Hurvlviiif^ nnim t 79 roNII \n KI'DpRAl Ah! I have rid thro of a wnrM of shame > ( 7h Jlngtltnt. Oh! them lurd hearted wretch! how vile! how vile! [ffrr/M* COM. I \vihh I had some team to quench your lire! You have no nroof that I huve done this deed! Jkirln/. Did you, or did you not, behold Uiat deed? /Jort. IdUl! Con. Where wan he, when you Haw him lout? yAn-f. He left naHMed out the room, nit I went In! Con. How could you nee him in the dead of nij;ht> IM. I heard him run, and aUo heard him Npeakt Con. Thin it the ne pint ultra of extreme*! This prima facie look* extremely fair. I Di*ilain fully, You may have heard a !ore or Nome huge hea.it/ A clap of thunder? wiil thi hanpr a manf If tli lame evidence can huiu^ a man, CJood hye to legislation, and her UWH! America'* no more tlio lijcht of heaven! 7Arr/>y. \Vc have one evidence, may nleanc the court! \\'hieh u not here! to-morrow, he hh'all come The handkerchief and da^er HJiall he found ( And then, all deutation \\ ill he vain. From I lie HO Niii^etttion* he may ^o to jail. COM. Then you'll he deep in mud, an your in mire." Jut/tff. Sheriff' ! take the primmer hack to jail !_ Darby, lio [Pointing after him. him out Judge. I've heard no evidence can hang that man/ [Court adjounu. xcunt omns SCENE IV. TXe 9ubu>l* of Frankfort Darby mtttt y, the Doctor. Darby. We have but one more evidence ) Jhtrby. He han,;, [Simla-* InunU. Illntnt Doctor. r.nlir AIINOI ii, //// n lithr in hi* Ituiul, /)t/, (iood tliy, to theo, old friend! u hat ' all the lie \\ N > [ V< uAc* Au/w/i. I have not neen you for these many duyn! < \Vhen you and I were I>OVM, we were ^ool friends. Although, you were not rieh I did not cure I ulwuyn like u frii'nd, und ne'er forget him. 1 like the poor, mtieh hetter than the rich- The rieh ean ^et alouj^, you know the poor, The hest wuy that the \ ean whal'M all the new*? JrnnM. \Ve have no newit! [htolm at the tetter, Poor Conntd'n wile in niek! J)m-hy. You knew that Conrad wan your vilcnt foe* .////. Not never, in th'iM world!~-that cunnut bof That man ha< helped me in difttreu! Jhirfit/. That may he *oi Uut not (f late > Jtrn. Oh, yen he i.a t of late Darby. Well, well that, too, it well enough he*i changed! You do not know what use arc made of friemUj He feeds you on hin money mind your eyo! He known what use to put his money to .* .< He buy* hi* own salvation, ut your low! 7V,:V. w?r. Why! how'.-, that? Darby, lie killed Alonxo, did he? ,7r//. 1 don't believe he did too good A man! Darby Ah, ha that proves what 1 have said now ma.-k ! ^ He means to prove you killed that man yourself. 1. * frK. Wliv? Iww? good hca%*tiw! I killed Alonzo? Darby. Tlic blame'* on you he'll hive you hung stone dead! i '* 74 COX* AD AKD Er DO* A j Jfrn. Good heavens! I never killed the man, on etrth! Darby. That may be truebut such wont do in court* You are a poor man you have no rich friends You cannot fee a lawyer tend your suit I When dangers come, the poor man's quite forsaken! And, without money, nun's a scare-en. w, here. Jrn. That is a fact! what will a poor man do? Darby. Well 1 can't tell, do the test he can. Jlrn. Are you concerned that way? Darby. Perhaps I may be. rst come, first served that the way with me. ,1m, 1 have no friend*! thought Conrad was the best J)arty* Well) as you seem to be an honest man, d, V expect, quite innocent of murder, V I'll undertake your case. tdm. Then here's my thanks [Bow*. He bade me. give this letter to liis wife- How sorry did I feel, to sec him weep! And, when he wrote this letter see hU tears! [Looks al if. Darby. These YJT tears, my friend, arc drops of guilt! He did not like to die, and leave his wife \ Nor, did he like, though best, to have YOU hung! This meeting of two sorrows in his soul, ' Broke up his conscience which, stood forth in tears! jfni. Is it possible, so good a man as he . Darby. So good! no odds how good a man may be, Tis not his nature not to save his life I- Perhaps that letter hold* some scheme, "Whereby he means to Have you hung let's ice JJrn, Lie told me, &, ,.e peril of my life, To give it to Eudorat no one else iKarby. Are you a fool? what! die by your [TUfea it and nodi. ' Kudora! my dear wife! I would be with thec, But I am bound in chains! yes, iron chains! There is but one resolve can save my life- Our only hope now rests on Arnold's oath If he wdl swear that Darby kill'd Alouzo! f Then, I am safe if not, I must be hung! If you are not too sick, come, btay with me Give Darby money, and he'd sell his soul! Darby. Give Conrad woman, and he'd sell hii life. 01, THE DEAJTII OP ALOXIO. 75 Ther, take it to bis wife come back to court* Be thou, her friend in act, but not in need. [Exeunt Arnold. Enter Doctor. Darby. Well, I've teen our friend- good news good newt Without one single cent, be comet to court! Doctor. But, what if he turn traitor what comet next? Darby. By heavens! I made the fool believe he'd bang! That Conrad had thrown all the guilt on him! And no alternative was left, but this. But, mark! he brought a letter which I read , Directed to .Kudora 'twas a plot . ,..; *f Now, mind! if he will swear, 'twill bang them both* . ^ Doct. Then, all is safe then, come go with nw-honniX,.^ [Exeunt omnet. F SCENE V. Courthouse in Frankfort, at before. lawyer t t tfc. Darby tpeakt. May please this court -we, now, bare evidence 4 Enter Conrad and Eudara, guarded. Now, they are here, the tame in guilt and mind. The unjust, for our just and buried friend! His virtues live, although his heart is dead! May all pood angels guard him home to heaven. Here is one witnevt, which the court shall bear. Arnold! did you not bear a lette?, scaled, home time ago, to Conrad's wif * By all the tics of gratitude amd CATC, * I dedicate him to your charge the rope. . Con. That, now, my fate it scaled, I could not think, 76 ' CONR A I) AND E t'DORA J Were T not crushed beneath such tiinful men! > And this, the last, of such Olympic oaths, * ' The greatest worst of all -oh, man! trail man! * When thou art base thou art, of all, most vile! t There stands my wife, whom I have m:ulc my heaven! Which no man can pollute, however false! A woman lovely, lovint^m the extreme Until, insult is on her honour thrown! From that bright bush, he pluck'd the sweetest rose TH-i ever bloom'd 1 whose virtuous sweets he stole, Then spurn'd! because she had no more to steal! They knew, her virtue was a heaven of love! A sanctuary, holy, perfect, pure ! And, if 1 die, 1 die by bunds, most foul! And, not from proof for they have none not one! Then, swear! as 1 have liv'd, so let me die! That, in my death! my soul shall love but one That only one, for whom I'd live or die! You have been auditors to deeds most foul! They knew Kudoru's joy was mine 'twas life! They knew the prize wax worth ten thousand deaths! And if I die, my death sh:.ll be for lo\r! JJarby. The jury will retire here is the writ. [/&*#, You know what facts arc stated! then, 'tis death! Judge tu I fit /<",'/ You nil have consciences enswayed by hate- Weigh not the truth in scales of prejudice; Nor cloud it, when it would, convincing, shine. If what you 've heard ppves* your minds with guilt, Then he Diust die, as surely as he lives. And now, 1 charge you, by the \vorth of souls, When you retire, be rcconcilM jun one. ['JJit jury retire, tiitd bring in the vtrdict death. Judge. Then Conrad! it behoove* nit, us thy judge. To say, thou art condemned, and have to die! May heavenly angels guard thee to thy home! kudura. Hast thou no voice to speak the same to me* -v* Shall Conrad die! and I, hi being-, live' l *1 once had tears, I have oh! that I were in heaven! Look at these hands these tender hamls all chained! As if my heart found music in their links! Am I not Chi lion's prisoner? Tanso's friend? Hear how they sing my rcnuiem! give me strength! Kmlora! canst them loose these manly hands? These hands wrcak'd vengeance for myself and thec! Oh! Darby! thou hast caused poor Conrad's death! Oh! for the carrol of some heavenly bird! Sweet nightingale! thou hast complain'd so long! Sing on, sad bird! for thou shalt sing no more! [H't uJ. Thou hast redecm'd me unto death with tlice! Co/i. The same kind deed thou would'st have done for me ! Eud. To live without thcc, would he living death! To die with thec, would be eternal life! The sweetest death that ever mortal died! As thou 'vert with me, in mine hour of pain, Bo will I nurse thec in the lap of death! [Embrace*. As I have been thy pathway to the tomb, So will I light thcc through its darkest shades! As thou lost been my brother, father, friend! Then, let us die! absolved of two great pangs The foes of virtue, and the traitor's fangs. Hark! 1 hear the watchman cry, 'tis morn! Con. Tticn let it come! these hands may then be free! The greatest load that ever mortal bore ! Eudora! gentlest of revengeful loves! Look up to heaven, and smile rejoice, my love? As I am thine, then, all thy will is mine! This life is thine, for thou art in this life! At 1 am lost in thcc, so am I found! OB, Tft DKATR OP AtOKZO. 79 Hark! hark! the uard is at the door tis done! / (Drum beat*. This morn, we part? and we shall meet DO more! Eud. I have a talc.to tell, too sweet for that / Twould send an unthcm through thy t>oul part? part? Hast tliou not known. Kudora's hearty this while.' Oh! 'tis too deep to fathom, in this world! Here is one chapter thou hast never read! [Show* him a phial of poison. Look here! dost thou not sec this precious balm! This was an angel's gift! 'twill couch ull pain! Through ull the fibres of thy manly heart, Send sleep! immortal sleep! send -night! (Lark night! And wake thy morrow in another world! [Fall* on him. Con. Oh! Eudora! poor Eucbra! Conrad's wife! [Embrace* Ktr. Thy heart is strong thy precious soul is wide! These hands are bound, else I would By to thee. Eud. What I imbibe, the same is sweet to thee, Though 'twere a clialice, teeming o'er with galL This little friend I'll keep, if that should fail. [Showa him a digger, which *ht procured, to kiO them, if the poison should fail. Con. Oh! Rudora! 'twill drowse away this life! Then, we nmt sleep, ami thou, within these arms! Eud. 'Twas for that purpose that 1 brought it here! Con. One short hour more, Kudora? and we parti Eud. Part? never! never! on this side the grave! This is the marriage banquet of our loves! Drink thou one half, und I the rest then, peace! [He takfM the phial and drinks one half. Thou hast not known me yet kind woman's love! This world hath never known fond woman's love! . This is the place that lesson shall be taught! That, he, who has a wife, may think on mc< And love her, that her love is woman's love! 'Tis that which makes her fear, till tempests rage! Then, deepest seas roll high with loftiest wavcst Hut let the storm be calm and all is love! Ye, who have wives, think on Kudoni's love! Love Conrad's wife! and wish Kudora thine! Con. Hark! the sounding drum! my time if cornel 80 coxryAD AKD KTJDOBA; . Eud. Then- come, iwcct antidote! come, cure all pain! Now, will 1 drink my put, ami die with thcel [Drink*. tDrawi the dagger. But one more rite! if that expcdi "Where am I f Conrad? am I not in heaven? This can't be heaven! else Conr&d would be here! Oh! give me wings that I may -ftf to Uice! Thou art not here? -Uien I will not be there! [Drumbeat* I hear a sound! there are no sounds in heaven! There, angels sing! there angels' songs are heard! I am not there, else Conrad, too, would sing! [Drum, Where! where am I, then! oh! Conrad! come! come! [l\et round. Oh! Conrad! Conrad! spirits! take me home! Away to Conrad's home ! [FulU on hit brctut, and he wuktt, Con. Eudora! [S/ic rauten her head, ud. Where! where U that voice? OK, H1 DBATB OP ALONlCt 81 * Con. Kmlora' love' Eud. Oh! tweet Conrad! thou art here! [Embraet* Aim. Co*. Ktidora! 1! too dark for heaven til hell! ud. Wilt then* remain? . Con. EudoraJ^ift thou stay? Do thou but stay, tml I'll remain 'tis death! Tia that dark vale through which we pan to heaven! W are not dead until we past that shade! Not dead to life, to earth alive to heaven * [Drum Eud. Rise, Conrad! rue and sec! 'tis dark! dark! [Dru. Con. Hark! the drum! -where are we? not in heaven ! hark ! ( / V?/ round and look* up. The guard! the drum! Eudora's* love is gone! Eud. No! 1 had lost my soul I have it now! [Strike* her forehead. Jailor make* a noi*e at the door without. Con. Be still, F.udora. [Draw her dagger. Hold! thou canst not kill > . Eud. Too wcuk?~*'lion has not strength like this! '** % ^' [Raue* her dagger. Too weak! tlie strength of death, too weak* now peace! Con, Hark ! too weak ! they come ! they come ! strike ! strike deep ! [Nhe *tab Aim, and he fall*. Eud. His blood's upon the blade now meet mine own* [Stabs her &ejf and falls. Jailor and guard enter. Jailor. Heavens! guard, what a sight! Took! look! behold! The groans we heard, %ere murder! they are dead! Her soul's with his arid both their hearts arc dead! Guard. What* dead! Conrad dead? IcU see dead? he breathes! Jailor. Here is the dagger buried in her heart! [J'ull* it out. 8co if he's dead! see if he's cold! has pulse. [Feel* her*. Eud. O O O! Conrad! [Die*, Con. Farewell, Kudora! Guard. Conrad speaks! he still has pulse! [Feel*, Jailor. Here is the wound! the wound! she's dead! she's dead! 62 COK1AD A!fD ErDORA; f Con. The wound! the wound! give roe my wife! my wife! [ They phot her on the l#<1, ond %e struggle* to rite. She was too tender! Oh! she could not kill! [Ttuy bear htm to her. Where is her pulse > her soul * 'tis oae ! my wife ! Now, 1 have lost my wife! Eudora's gone! Kiuloru! speak ! oh! speak, my love! oh! death! Where U that dagger? strike mic! kill me dead! %>> t*e\ me go with poor Kudnra! strike! strike!- Offictr. We must obey tle law you must be hung 1 * Con. Give me xuy wife! help! oh! heaven! help! my wife! [ 77iry bear him out to the gallowt, and the curtain falls. rmt BMB. ot tftr I THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE STAMPED BELOW RENEWED BOOKS ARE SUBJECT TO IMMEDIATE RECALL LIBRARY, UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, DAVIS Book Slip-25m-6,'66(G3855s4)458 N9 556892 PS1294 Chivers, T.H. C4 Conrad and Eudora. C65 LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA DAVIS