SCENE III.--_A Field with a clump of trees.

_Enter the ~Dog~._

_Dog._ Now for an early mischief and a sudden! The mind’s about it now; one touch from me Soon sets the body forward.

_Enter_ FRANK _and_ SUSAN.

_Frank._ Your request Is out; yet will you leave me?

_Sus._ What? so churlishly? You’ll make me stay for ever, Rather than part with such a sound from you.

_Frank._ Why, you almost anger me. Pray you be gone. You have no company, and ’tis very early; Some hurt may betide you homewards.

_Sus._ Tush! I fear none; To leave you is the greatest hurt I can suffer: Besides, I expect your father and mine own To meet me back, or overtake me with you; They began to stir when I came after you I know they’ll not be long.

_Frank._ So! I shall have more trouble,--[_The ~Dog~ rubs against him_]--thank you for that:[441] [_Aside._] Then I’ll ease all at once. It is done now; What I ne’er thought on.--You shall not go back.

[441] The dog is of course supposed invisible. Frank thanks Susan for telling him of the threatened arrival of Carter and Old Thorney which would lead to discovery.

_Sus._ Why, shall I go along with thee? sweet music!

_Frank._ No, to a better place.

_Sus._ Any place I; I’m there at home where thou pleasest to have me.

_Frank._ At home? I’ll leave you in your last lodging; I must kill you.

_Sus._ O, fine! you’d fright me from you.

_Frank._ You see I had no purpose; I’m unarmed; ’Tis this minute’s decree, and it must be: Look, this will serve your turn. [_Draws a knife._

_Sus._ I’ll not turn from it, If you be earnest, sir; yet you may tell me Wherefore you’ll kill me.

_Frank._ Because you are a whore.

_Sus._ There’s one deep wound already; a whore! ’Twas ever further from me than the thought Of this black hour; a whore?

_Frank._ Yes, I’ll prove it, And you shall confess it. You are my whore. No wife of mine; the word admits no second. I was before wedded to another; have her still. I do not lay the sin unto your charge, ’Tis all mine own: your marriage was my theft, For I espoused your dowry, and I have it. I did not purpose to have added murder; The devil did not prompt me till this minute: You might have safe returned; now you cannot. You have dogged your own death. [_Stabs her._

_Sus._ And I deserve it; I’m glad my fate was so intelligent: ’Twas some good spirit’s motion. Die? O, ’twas time! How many years might I have slept in sin, The sin of my most hatred, too, adultery!

_Frank._ Nay, sure, ’twas likely that the most was past; For I meant never to return to you After this parting.

_Sus._ Why, then, I thank you more; You have done lovingly, leaving yourself, That you would thus bestow me on another. Thou art my husband, Death, and I embrace thee With all the love I have. Forget the stain Of my unwitting sin; and then I come A crystal virgin to thee: my soul’s purity Shall with bold wings ascend the doors of Mercy; For Innocence is ever her companion.

_Frank._ Not yet mortal? I would not linger you, Or leave you a tongue to blab. [_Stabs her again._

_Sus._ Now Heaven reward you ne’er the worse for me! I did not think that Death had been so sweet, Nor I so apt to love him. I could ne’er die better, Had I stayed forty years for preparation; For I’m in charity with all the world. Let me for once be thine example, Heaven; Do to this man as I him free forgive, And may he better die and better live. [_Dies._

_Frank._ ’Tis done; and I am in! Once past our height, We scorn the deep’st abyss. This follows now, To heal her wounds by dressing of the weapon.[442] Arms, thighs, hands, any place; we must not fail [_Wounds himself._ Light scratches, giving such deep ones: the best I can To bind myself to this tree. Now’s the storm, Which if blown o’er, many fair days may follow.

[442] An allusion to an old superstition in which the idea was that wounds were healed by the turning of the assailant’s weapon against himself so as to cover it with his blood.

[_Binds himself to a tree; the ~Dog~ ties him behind and exit._

So, so, I’m fast; I did not think I could Have done so well behind me. How prosperous And effectual mischief sometimes is!--[_Aloud_] Help! help! Murder, murder, murder!

_Enter_ CARTER _and_ OLD THORNEY.

_Car._ Ha! whom tolls the bell for?

_Frank._ O, O!

_O. Thor._ Ah me! The cause appears too soon; my child, my son!

_Car._ Susan, girl, child! not speak to thy father? ha!

_Frank._ O, lend me some assistance to o’ertake This hapless woman.

_O. Thor._ Let’s o’ertake the murderers. Speak whilst thou canst, anon may be too late; I fear thou hast death’s mark upon thee too.

_Frank._ I know them both; yet such an oath is passed As pulls damnation up if it be broke. I dare not name ’em: think what forced men do.

_O. Thor._ Keep oath with murderers! that were a conscience To hold the devil in.

_Frank._ Nay, sir, I can describe ’em, Shall show them as familiar as their names: The taller of the two at this time wears His satin doublet white, but crimson-lined, Hose of black satin, cloak of scarlet--

_O. Thor._ Warbeck, Warbeck, Warbeck!--do you list to this, sir?

_Car._ Yes, yes, I listen you; here’s nothing to be heard.

_Frank._ Th’ other’s cloak branched[443] velvet, black, velvet-lined his suit.

[443] _i.e._ Adorned with tufts, or tassels, dependent from the shoulders.--_Gifford._

_O. Thor._ I have ’em already; Somerton, Somerton! Binal revenge all this. Come, sir, the first work Is to pursue the murderers, when we have Removed these mangled bodies hence.

_Car._ Sir, take that carcass there, and give me this. I will not own her now; she’s none of mine. Bob me off with a dumb-show! no, I’ll have life. This is my son too, and while there’s life in him, ’Tis half mine; take you half that silence for’t.-- When I speak I look to be spoken to: Forgetful slut!

_O. Thor._ Alas, what grief may do now! Look, sir, I’ll take this load of sorrow with me.

_Car._ Ay, do, and I’ll have this. [_Exit_ OLD THORNEY _with_ SUSAN _in his arms_.] How do you, sir?

_Frank._ O, very ill, sir.

_Car._ Yes, I think so; but ’tis well you can speak yet: There’s no music but in sound; sound it must be. I have not wept these twenty years before, And that I guess was ere that girl was born; Yet now methinks, if I but knew the way, My heart’s so full, I could weep night and day. [_Exit with_ FRANK.