346! 
 
 
 7rancklin 
 Matilda
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 MAT I L D A * 
 
 TRAGEDY. 
 
 
 As it is peiformed at the 
 
 THEATRE- ROYAL, 
 
 DRURY-LANE. 
 
 By the A u T H o R of the EAKL OF WARWICK, 
 
 DUBLIN: 
 
 Printed for J. EXSHAW, W. SLEATER, J. POTTS, 
 D. CHAMBE RLAINE, J.WILLIAMS, W.WILSON, 
 J.SHEPPARD, J. A. HUSBAND, R.MONCRIEFFE, 
 R. MARCHBANK, T. WALKER, C. JENKIN, and 
 J. HILLARY. M. DCC. LXXV.
 
 
 
 
 'Li.
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 TO THE PUBLIC. 
 SIR, 
 
 E RMIT me to return you my unfeigned 
 thanks for your kind reception of this TRA- 
 GEDY on the ftage, and to requeft the con- 
 tinuance of your favour to it in the clofet. It 
 would be the higheft ingratitude in me to forget 
 the only patron I ever had the good fortune to 
 meet with, by whofe powerful afliftance I have 
 been enabled to defeat the combined forces of 
 envy, malice and detraction. I muft at the 
 feme time fairly confefs, my victory over the 
 enemy was owing, I believe, as many other 
 victories have been, more to the art and 
 prowefs of my OFFICKRS than to any ex- 
 traordinary merit of my own. To the firft 
 in command, Mifs YOUNGE, I have infinite 
 obligations, which I (hall always gratefully 
 acknowledge, tho' I may never have it in my 
 power to repay them; nor can the fkill and 
 conduct of my generals, REDDISH, SMITH 
 and PALMER, be fufficien,tly admired. To 
 your patronage and protection I moft heartily 
 and fincerely recommend them : If 1 have 
 been the happy inftrument of giving them a 
 favourable opportunity of riling in YOUR 
 erteem, it will give me the greateft fatisfaclion. 
 You can belt diftinguiih their merit, and 
 YOU alone are able to reward it. 
 
 7 ant } Sir, ycur much obliged, 
 
 And devoted bumble Servant, 
 
 A 2 The Author. 
 
 881302
 
 Dramatis Perfonae. 
 
 MEN. 
 
 MORCAR, ( Ear! of Mereia, < Mr. REDDISH. 
 
 *" } AvStvW, {M'-S-TH. 
 
 S i w A R D, S Mor car's friend, < Mr . PALMER. 
 
 
 OFFICERS, &V. 
 
 W O M E N. 
 
 BER.THA, > Her friend, 
 
 SCENE, MOR CAR'/ O^, and tbe Environs near 
 NOTTINGHAM.
 
 PRO L O G U E. 
 
 WRITTEN BY A FRIEND. 
 SPOKEN BY MR. SMITH. 
 
 *1 Tragic I 'ale ', from Norman WilHanis Age, 
 
 Simple, and unadortfd, attempts the Stage. 
 
 Ourjilly Bard, morejimple than his Tak, 
 
 Thinks on your polffid Manners to prevail; 
 
 What in thcfe barb'rous Days were counted Crimes, 
 
 Are Slips of courfe in thefe enlighten d Times : 
 
 Let not your Anceftors too rude appear, 
 
 Though firm in Friendjbip, and in Love Jlncere. 
 
 Love then like Glory did each Heart inflame, 
 
 Beauty was Virtue, and to win it, Fame. 
 
 NOVJ Lovers lofe their Miftre/es with Grace, 
 
 As at New -Market tbe$ would lo/e a Race, 
 
 Where, if in Hopes they fe em a little cro/s d, 
 
 'Tisfor the Money of the Match that's loft. 
 
 When Tilts and Tournaments called forth the Brave, 
 
 The Fame offpotlefs Innocence to fave, 
 
 Each gallant Knight preferred his Love to Life, 
 
 For then the great eft Elfjjlng was a Wife : 
 
 To prove their Chaftity the dauntlefs Fair 
 
 Wuldwalk through Flames, nor Jlnge a Jingle Hair; 
 
 Nay, fome fo chafte, fo cold to all Dejtre, 
 
 Not only 'scap'd it, they put out the Fire ! 
 
 But now no Heroes die for Love's fweet PaJJion, 
 
 jfyul&trj Trials are quite out of Fc.flrion. 
 
 Te Sons of Frailty -you nvhom Rage devours, 
 
 For you this Night the Mufe exerts her Pow'rs ; 
 
 With crimfon Hands, pale Cheeks, and blood- Jhot Eye; ; 
 
 She bids the Furies in their Terrors rife ! 
 
 A 5 In
 
 P R O L O G U E. 
 
 ;// Vdlou?l Brenft their Scorpion Stings they dart, 
 
 Fir ft fire the Brain, and then corrupt the Heart. 
 
 But what a vails all Virtue ! PaJ/tons Guft, 
 
 Like Whirlwinds, drive it from the Heart like Duft^ 
 
 JPljen Reafon dawns, well may Repentance mourn 
 
 Love, Friend/hip, Duty, by the Roots up-torn. 
 
 Tofooth this fatal Vice, the Flatterer tells 
 
 In ft army Minds bow warm? ft Friend foip dwells ; 
 
 'The Tree ivhofe Jkeltering Arms fpread kindly round,, 
 
 Jf Light 1 ning-ftruck , lies blnfted on the Ground ; 
 
 Jn vain will Merits pajl Indulgence claim, 
 
 One Moment's Rafonefs I'lafts whole Tears of Fame, 
 
 EPILOGUE.
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 By the AUTHOR of the TRAGEDY. 
 SPOKEN BY Miss Y O U N G E. 
 
 JLJ. A f ha! poor Creature ! bow you trembling ft and! 
 Come to the Bar, Sir, and bold up your Hand-, 
 YOU won't- by Council thenyoiid have it done, 
 And I muft plead jour Caufe nuell, get you gone. 
 
 [Coming forward to the Audience. 
 Now for the great Tribunal of Old Drwy ; 
 Are you allfworn there Gem^men of the Jury? 
 Good Men, and true, I hope -flay, let me fee ,- 
 Amongft you all he challenges but three. 
 Pbyftcians, Lawyers, Parfons he admits, ~> 
 
 Beaux, Ladies, Courtiers, Maccaronies, Cits, 
 And only Jcratches Critics, News-writers, and Wits. J 
 
 The Critic/r/? we banijh from cur Seffion, 
 Death is bis "Trade, and Damning his ProfeJJlon ', 
 Difqualifyd because, to iay no further. 
 Butchers are never beard in Cafe of Murther. 
 
 Next we difclaim ttf Artificers of New, 
 Who live by Fibs, and fiourijh by Abufe ; 
 They muji condemn, or lofe their daily Bread ; 
 If they dorit cut, and fir, Jb they're never read $ 
 Like fabhd Giants here they roam for Food, 
 And Fe / Fa / Fam / fnuff up an Author's Bloody 
 In the next Ledger hang him up to roaft, 
 Or tear him Piece-meal in the Morning-Poft. 
 
 To Whs we laft except, and 'bow ail <jther,, 
 The Hero of our Tale a Rival Brother ! 
 
 A 4. At-
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 As Rogues, juji^fca^d the Gallows, join the Shrieves^ 
 Turn Hangmen, and tuck up their Fellow-Thieves* 
 So Bards condemned, exert the Critic's Skill, 
 And execute their Brethren of the Quill ! 
 If like their own, indeed, the Brat Jbould die, 
 They* II gladly join to write its Elegy ; 
 But if the Child is fttong, and like to live. 
 That is a Crime they never can forgive. 
 
 Fromfuch let Englijh Juries ft ill Be free, 
 Our Author here appeals to your Decree, 
 The Public ii a Court of Equity. 
 Jfhe has Jhock'd your Tajle, your Senfe, or Reafon, 
 Or againft Nature guilty been of Treafon, 
 QJ with his Head; but if with honeft Art, 
 His well-meant Scenes have touched the feeling Hearty 
 If they have raised your Pitt, wak'd your Fears, 
 Or jfweetly ba<ve " begttiPd you of your Tears,"^ 
 Let venial Errors your Indulgence claim, 
 Your Voice bis Triumph, yourAfplaufe his Fame- 
 
 Speak by your Foreman what fays Goodman Pit ? 
 Will you condemn the Prifoner, or acquit ? 
 Your Verdict, f-'irs, Not Guilty if you pleafe 
 You Jmiie Acquitted- hope you II pay bis Fees.
 
 MATILDA 
 
 A TRAGEDY. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 S.CENE, MATILDA'^ Tent, with a view of the 
 diftant country. 
 
 MATILDA, BERTHA. 
 MATILDA. 
 
 A Thank thee, gentle Bertha, for. thy goodnefs ; 
 
 If aught cou'd footh the anguilhof my foul, 
 
 Or raife it from the horrors of defpair 
 
 To hope and joy, 'twou'd be thy gen'rous friendfliip-. 
 
 But I amfuiik fo deep in mifery, 
 
 That comfort cannot reach me. 
 
 A 5 Btrti 
 
 * The reader will meet *witb fame lines which, to Jhcrten. 
 tbejcenes, were omitted in the reprefent alien. 
 
 ;
 
 L 
 
 2 MATILDA. 
 
 Serf. Talk not thus, 
 
 My fvveet Matilda; innocence, like thine', 
 Muil be the care of all-direding heav'n. 
 Already hath the interpofijjg hand 
 Of Providence redeem'd thee from the rage 
 Of favage war, and fhelter'd thee within 
 This calm afylum. Mercia's potent Earl, 
 The noble Morcar, will proteft thy virtues, 
 And, if I err not, wifhes but to mare 
 His conquefts with thee. 
 
 Matil. O, my friend, oft times 
 
 The flow'ry path that tempts our wand'ring fteps 
 But leads to mis'ry ; what thou fondly deem'il 
 My foul's belt comfort, is its bht'reft woe. 
 Earl Morcar loves me. To the gen'rous mind 
 The heavieft debt is that of gratitude, 
 "When 'tis not in our power to rejsay it. 
 
 Bert. Oft have I heard thee fay, to him thou ow'il 
 Thy honour and thy life. 
 
 j\Iati/. I told thee truth. 
 
 Beneath my father's hofpi table roof, 
 1 fpent my earlier happier days in peace 
 And faf'ety : When the Norman conqu'ror cime, 
 Diiconl, thou know'ft, foon lit her fatal torch, 
 And fpread deilruclion o'er this wretched land. 
 The loyal Ranulph flew to William's aid, 
 And left me to a faithful peafant's care, 
 Who liv'd, fequerter'd in the fertile plains 
 Of rich Northumbria : There awhile I dwelt 
 In fwect retirement, when the favage Malcolm 
 Rum'd on our borders. 
 
 Bert. I remember well 
 
 The melancholy hour. Confulion rag'd 
 On ev'ry fide, and defolation fpread 
 Its terrors round us. How did'lt thou efcape ? 
 
 MatU
 
 MATILDA. 3 
 
 Matil. A crew of defp'rate rufHans feix'd upon me, 
 A hdplefs prey : For, O ! he was not there, 
 Who beft cou'd have defended his Matilda. 
 Then had I fall'n a wretched facrifice 
 To brutal rage, andlawlefs violence, 
 Had not thegen'rous Morcar interpos'd 
 Tofave me: Tho' hejoin'd the guilty caule 
 Of foul rebellion, yet his foul abhor'd 
 Such violation. At his awful voice 
 The furly rufHans left me, and retir'd. 
 He bore me, half expiring in his arms, 
 Back to his tent ; with ev'ry kind attention 
 There ftrove to footh my griefs, and promis'd, foon 
 As fit occafion offer'd, to reftore me 
 To my afflifted father. 
 
 Bert. Something furc 
 
 Was due to gen'rous Morcar for his aid, 
 So timely given. 
 
 Matil. No doubt : But mark what follow'd. 
 
 In my deliverer too foon I found 
 An ardent lover, fighing at my feet. 
 
 Bert. And what is there the proudeftof our fex 
 Cou'd wifh for more ? To be the envy'd bride 
 Of noble Morcar, firft of England's peers, 
 In fame and fortune. 
 
 Matil. Never truft, my Bertha, 
 
 To outward fl.ew. 'Tis not the fmiles of fortune,. 
 The pomp of wealth, or fplendor of a court, 
 Can make us happy. In the mind alone, 
 Reftsfolid joy, and true felicity, 
 Which I can never tafte : For, O, my friend ! 
 A fecret forrow weighs upon my heart. 
 
 Bert. Then pour it in the bofom of thy friend ; 
 Let. me paitake it with thce. 
 
 Matil; 
 
 >
 
 T 
 
 I 
 
 4 MATILDA. 
 
 Matil. Gen'rous maid f 
 
 Know then, for nought will I conceal from thee, 
 I honour Mercia's Earl, revere his virtues, 
 And wilh I cou'd repay him with myfelf ; 
 But, blufliing, I acknowledge it, the heart 
 His vows folicit, is not mine to give. 
 
 Bert. Has then fome happier youth- 
 
 Matil. Another time 
 
 I'll tell thee all the ftory of our loves, 
 But, O, my Bertha ! did'lt thou know to whom 
 My virgin faith is plighted, thou wou'd fay 
 I am indeed unhappy. 
 
 Bert. Cou'd Matilda 
 
 Beftow the treafure of her heart on one 
 Unworthy of her choice ? 
 
 Matil. Unworthy ! No. 
 
 I glory in my paffion for the beft, 
 The iovelieft of his fex. O ! he was all 
 That bounteous nature, prodigal of charms, 
 Did on herchoiceft fav'rite e'er beftow. 
 His graceful form and fweet deportment fpoke 
 ~~he fairer beauties of his kindred foul, 
 Where ev'ry grace andev'ry virtue {hone. 
 But thou wilt tremble, Bertha, when \ tell thee, 
 He is Earl Morcar's brother. 
 
 Bert. Ha ! his brother .' 
 
 The noble Edwin ? Often have I heard 
 My father 
 
 Matil. Did Lord Edrick know him then ? 
 
 Bert. He knew his virtues, and his fame in arms, 
 And often wou'd lament the dire effe&s 
 Of civil difcord, that cou'd thus diffolve 
 The ties of nature, and of brethren make 
 The bitc'reft foes. If right I learn, Lord Edwin 
 
 Is
 
 MATILDA. 5 
 
 Is William's firmeft friend, and ftill fupports 
 His royal matter. 
 
 Matt/. Yes, my Bertha, there 
 
 I ftill find comfort : Edwin ne'er was ftain'd 
 As Morcar is, with foul difloyalty, 
 But ftands betwixt his fov'reign and the rage 
 Of rebel multitudes, to guard his throne. 
 If nobly fighting in his country's caufe, 
 My hero fails, I (hall not weep alone ; 
 The king he lov'd and honour'd, will lament him, 
 And grateful England mix her tears with mine. 
 
 Bert. And doth Earl Morcar know of Edwin's love ? 
 
 Matil. O, no ! I would not for a thoufand worlds 
 He fhou'd fufpeft it, left his fiery foul 
 Shou'd catch th' alarm, and kindle to a flame 
 That might deftroy us all. 
 
 Bert. I know his warmth 
 
 And vehemence of temper, unreflrain'd 
 By laws, and fpurning at the royal pow'r 
 Which he contemns, he rules defpotic here. 
 
 Matil. Alas .' how man from man, and brother oft 
 From brother differs ! Edwin's tender paffion 
 Is foft and gentle as the balmy breath 
 Of vernal zephyrs ; whilft the favage north, 
 That curls the angry ocean into ftorms, 
 Is a faint image of Earl Morcar's Jove : 
 'Tis rage, 'tis fury all. When lafl we met , 
 He knit his angry brow, and frown' d fevere 
 Upon me ; then, with wild diftrafted look, 
 Bade me beware of trifling with his paffion, 
 He wou'd not brook it trembling I retired, 
 And bath'd my couch in tears. 
 
 Bert. Unhappy maid ! 
 
 But time, that foftens ev'ry human woe, 
 Will bring fomc bleft event, and lighten thine. 
 
 i
 
 6 MATILDA. 
 
 Matil. Alas ! thou know'ft not what it is to love. 
 Haply thy tender heart hath never felt 
 The tortures of that foul- bewitching paffion. 
 Its joys arefweet and poignant, but its pangs 
 Are exquifite, as I have known too well : 
 For, O ! my Bertha, fince the fatal hour 
 When Edwin left me, never hath fweet peace, 
 That us'd to dwell with all its comforts here, 
 E'er deigned to viiit this afflicted breaft. 
 
 Bert. Too plain, alas .' I read thy forrows grief; 
 Sits in fad triumph on thy faded cheek, 
 And half obfcuresthe luitreof thy beauties. 
 
 Matil. Talk not of beauty, 'tis our fex's bane, 
 And leads but to deftruclion. I abhor 
 The fatal gift. O ! would it had plcas'd heav'n 
 To brand my homely features with the mark 
 Of foul deformity, or let me pafs 
 Unknown, and undiftinguifh'd from the herd 
 Of vulgar forms, fave by the partial eye 
 Of my lov'd Edwin j then had I been bleft 
 With chirms unenvy'd, and a guiltlefs love. 
 ^Bert. Where is thy Edwin now ? 
 
 //'/. Alas ! I know not. 
 
 'Tis now three years fince hit thefe eyes beheld 
 Their deareft object. In that humble vale, 
 Whence, as 1 told thee, Malcolm's fury drove me, 
 There firft we met. O ! how I cherim ftill 
 The fond remembrance ! There we firft exchang'd 
 Our mutual vows, the day of happinefs 
 Was fixt ; it came, and in a few mort hours 
 He had been made indiflblubly mine, 
 When fortune, envious of our happinefs 
 And William's danger, call'd him to the field. 
 
 Bert. A.nd fince that parting have ye never met ?
 
 MATILDA. 7 
 
 Matil. O never, Bertha, never but in thought. 
 Imagination, kind anticipator 
 Of love's pleafures, brings us oft* together. 
 Oft' as I fit within my lonely tent, 
 And caft my wifhful eyes o'er yonder plain, 
 In ev'ry palling traveller I ftrive 
 To trace his image, hear his lovely voice 
 In ev'ry found, and fain wou'd flatter me 
 Edwin ftill lives, Hill loves his loft Matilda. 
 
 Bert. Who knows but fate, propitious to thy love 
 May guide him hither. 
 
 Matil. Gracious heaven forbid .' 
 
 Confider, Bertha, if the chance of war 
 Shou'd this way lead him, he muft come in arms 
 Againft his brother : Oh ! 'tis horrible 
 To think on. Shou'd they meet, and Edwin fall, 
 What mall fupport me ? And if vidYry fmiles 
 Upon my love, how dear will be the purchafe 
 By Morcar's blood ! Then muft 1 lofe my friend, 
 My guardian, my protector ev'ry way 
 Matilda muft be wretched. 
 
 Bert. Is there ought 
 
 In Bertha's pow'r ? 
 
 Matil. Wiltthou difpatch, my friend, 
 
 Some trufty meffenger with thefe ? Away. 
 
 'gl^-cs her letters. 
 I'll meet thee in my tent farewel. [Exit Berth. 
 
 Matil. (alone) Mean time 
 
 One hope remains, the gen'rous Siward he 
 Might faveme Itill. His fympathetic heart 
 Can feel for the afHifted. I have heard, 
 (Such is the magic pow'r of facred friend/hip) 
 When the impetuous Morcar fcatters fear 
 And terror round him, he, and he alone 
 
 Caa
 
 
 S MATILDA. 
 
 Can ftem the rapid torrent of his paffion, 
 
 And bend him, tho' reluflant, to his will ; 
 
 And fee, in happy hour, he comes this way. 
 
 Now fortune, be propitious! if there be, 
 
 As I have heard, an eloquence in grief, 
 
 And thofe can moft perfuade, who are moft wretched, 
 
 I fliall not pafs unpitied. 
 
 Enter SIWARD. 
 
 Siw. Ha ! in tears, 
 
 Matilda ! What new grief, what cruel foe 
 To innocence and beauty, thus cou'd vex 
 Thy gentle fpirit? 
 
 MatiL Canil thou afk the caufe, 
 
 When thou behold'ft me ftill i fhameful bonds. 
 A wretched captive, friendlefs and forlorn, 
 Without one ray of hope to footh my forrovvs. 
 
 Siw. Can me, whofe beauteous form, and fair de. 
 Charm ev'ry eye, and conquer ev'ry heart, (meaner, 
 Can me be wretched ? can fhe want a friend, 
 Whom Siward honours, and whom Morcar loves? 
 O ! if thou knew'ft with what unceafuig ardor, - 
 What unexampled tendernefs and truth, 
 He doats upon thee, fure thou might'it be wrought 
 At leaft to pity. 
 
 Matil. Urge no more, my Lord, 
 
 Th' ungrateful fubjeft ; but too well I know 
 How much thy friend deferves, how much, alas, 
 I owe him ! If it be Earl Morcar's wifli 
 To make me happy, why am I deta'n'd 
 A pris'ner here ? Spite of his folemn promife 
 He would reftore me to my royal matter, 
 Or fend me back to the defiring arms 
 Of the afflided Ranulph, who in tears 
 
 Of
 
 MATILDA. 9 
 
 Of bitt'reft anguifh, mourns his long-loft daughter ? 
 Surely, my lord, it ill becomes a foldier 
 To forfeit thus his honour and his word. 
 
 Siw. I own it ; yet the caufe pleads ftrongly for him. 
 If by thy own too powerful charms mifled, 
 He deviates from the paths of rigid honour, 
 Matilda might forgive. Thou know'ft he lives 
 But in thy fmiles ; his love-enchanted foul 
 Hangs on thofe beauties he would wifh to keep 
 For ever in his fight. 
 
 Matt/. Indulgent heav'n, 
 
 Keep me for ever from it ! O, my Lord ! 
 If e'er thy heart with gen'rous pity glow'd 
 For the diftrefs'd j if e'er thy honeft zeal 
 Cou'd boaft an influence e'er the man you love ; 
 O ! now exert thy pow'r, affift, direct, 
 And lave thy friend from ruin and Matilda. 
 There are, my Lord, who molt offend, where jnoft 
 They wifh to pieafe. Such often is the fate 
 Of thy unhappy friend, when he pours forth 
 His ardent foul in vows of tend'reft paffion ; 
 'Tis with fuch rude and boift'rous violence 
 As fuits but ill the hero or the lover. 
 
 Si-iv. I know his weaknefs, know his follies all, 
 And feel 'em but too well : He loves with tranfporr, 
 And hates with fury. Warm'd with fierce deiire, 
 Or ilrong refentment, his impetuous foul 
 Is hurried on, till reafon quits her feat, 
 And pafiion takes the loofely-flowing rein; 
 Then all is rage, confufion, and defpair. 
 And yet, when coor reflection hath remov'd 
 The veil of error, he wiil weep his faults 
 With fuch a fweet contrition, as wou'd melt 
 The hardeft heart to pity and forgivenefs. 
 O ! he has virtues that may well atone 
 
 For
 
 io ^ MATILDA. 
 
 For all his venial rafhnefs, that deferve 
 
 A fov'reign's love, and claim a nation's praife; 
 
 Virtues that merit happinefs and thee. 
 
 Why wilt thou thus defpife my noble friend ? 
 
 His birth and fortune, with the rank he bears 
 
 Amongft the firft of England's peers, will raife thee 
 
 As far above thy fex, in wealth and povv'r, 
 
 As now thou art in beauty. 
 
 Matil, O, my Lord ! 
 
 'Tis not the pride, the luxury of life, 
 The fplendid robe and glitt'ring gem, that knits 
 The lafting bonds of mutual happinefs : 
 Where manners differ, where affections jarr, 
 And will not kindly mix together, where 
 The fweet harmonious concord of the mind 
 Is wanting, all is mifery and woe. 
 
 Siiv. By heav'n, thou plead'ft thy own and virtue's 
 With fuch bewitching eloquence, the more (caufe, 
 Thy heart, alarm'd by diffidence, ftill urges -^ 
 Againft this union with my friend, the more 
 I wifh to fee him bleft with worth like thine. 
 
 Matil. My Lord, it muft not be ; for grant him all 
 The fair perfections you already fee, 
 And I cou'd wifh to find, there is a bar 
 
 That muft for ever difunite us -Born 
 
 Of Norman race, and from my earlieft years 
 Attach'd to William's caufe ; I love my king 
 And wifh my country's peace : That king, my Lord, 
 Whom Morcar wifhes to dethrone ; that peace 
 Which he deftroys : Had he an angel'* form, 
 With all the virtues that adorn his fex, 
 With ail the riches fortune can beftow, 
 I wou'd not wed a traitor. 
 
 Shu. Call not his errors by fo harfli a name ; 
 He has been deeply wrong'd, and fouls like his, 
 
 Muft
 
 MATILDA. >i 
 
 Muft feel the wounds of honour, and refent them. 
 
 Alas .' with thee I weep my country's fate, 
 
 Nay wifh, perhaps, as well to William's caufe, 
 
 And England's peace, as can the loyal daughter 
 
 Of gallant Ranulph, and wou'd, therefore, joy 
 
 To fee Matilda lend a gracious ear 
 
 To Morcar's fuit. Thy reconciling charms 
 
 Might footh his troubled foul, might heal the wounds 
 
 Of bleeding England, and unite us all 
 
 In one bright chain of harmony and love. 
 
 The gallant Edwin too 
 
 Matil. Ha ! what of him ? 
 
 Know'ft thou that noble youth ? 
 
 Sito. So many years 
 
 Have paft fince laft we met, by diff'rent views, 
 And our unhappy feuds, fo long divided, 
 I fhould not recoiledl him ; but report 
 Speaks loudly of his virtues. He, no doubt, 
 If yet he lives 
 
 Matil. Yet lives f Why, what, my Lord ? 
 
 $iw. You feem much mov'd. 
 
 Matil. Forgive me, but whene'er 
 
 This fad idea rifes to my mind, 
 Of brother againft brother arm'd, my foal 
 Recoils with horror. 
 
 Siiv. 'Tis a dreadful thought : 
 
 Wou'd I cou'd heal that cruel breach ! but then 
 Thou might'ft do much, the taflt is left for thee. 
 
 Matil. For me ? Alas ! it is not in my pow'r. 
 
 Sizo. In thine, and thine alone. O think, Matilda ! 
 How great thy glory, and how great thy praife, 
 To be the blelfed inftrument of peace ; 
 The band of union 'twixt contending brothers. 
 Thou fee'ft them now, like two defcending floods, 
 Whofe rapid torrents meeting, half o'erwhelm 
 
 The
 
 iz MATILDA. 
 
 The neighb'ring plains: Thy gentle voice might ftill 
 The angry waves, and bid their waters flow 
 In one united ftream, to blefs the land. 
 
 Matil. That flatt'ring thought beams comfort on my 
 Amidft my forrows ; bear me witnefs, heav'n ! (foul, 
 Cou'd poor Matilda be the happy means 
 Of reconcilement : Cou'd thefe eyes behold 
 The noble youths embracing, and embrac'd 
 In the firm cords of amity and love : 
 
 ! it would make me ample recompence 
 
 For all my griefs, nor would I more complain, 
 But reft me in the filent grave, well pleas'd 
 To think, at laft, I had not Hv'd in vain. 
 
 Sim. Cherifh that virtuous thought, illuftrious maid, 
 And let me hope my friend may ftill be happy. 
 
 Matil. I wifli it from my foul : But fee, my Lord, 
 Earl Morcar comes this way, with hafly fttps, 
 Acrofs the lawn. I muft retire: Farewell 
 You'll not forget my humble fuit. 
 
 Siw. O ! no, 
 
 1 will do all that lovelieft innocence 
 
 And worth like thine, deferve. Farewel : Mean time 
 Remember, Siward's every wifh, the blifs 
 Of Morcar, Edwin's life, the public peace, 
 And England's welfare, all depend on thee. 
 
 [Exit Matilda. 
 
 Slw. (alo?ie ^There's no alternative but this -, my friend 
 Mull quit Matilda, or defert the caufe 
 We've rafhly promis'd to uipport Perhaps 
 The laft were beft both mall be try'd he comes, 
 
 Enter MORCAR. 
 
 More. O, Siward ! was not that 
 
 The fair Matilda, whom you parted from ?
 
 MATILDA. 13 
 
 Site. It was. 
 
 More. What fays (he ? the dear, cruel maid ! 
 
 Is (he ftill deaf? inexorable ftill ? 
 Sizo. You muft not think of her. 
 More. What fay'ft thou, Siward ? 
 
 Not think of her ! 
 
 SI-TV. No. Root her from thy heart, 
 
 And gaze no more. I blulh to fee my friend 
 So loll to honour: Is it for a man, 
 On whom the fate of England may depend, 
 To quit the dang'rous poll, where duty calls, 
 And all the bus'nefs of the war, to figh 
 And whine in corners for a captive woman ? 
 Refume the hero, Morcar, and fubdue / 
 
 This idle paffion. 
 
 More. Talk not thus of love, 
 
 The great refiner of the human heart, 
 The fource of all that's great, of all that's good ; 
 Of joy, of pleafure If it be a weaknefs, 
 It is a weaknefs which the belt have felt ; 
 I wou'd not wifh to be a ftranger to it. 
 
 Siiv. Let me entreat thee, if thou valueft life, 
 Or fame, or honour, quit Matilda. 
 
 More. Yes: 
 
 I thank you for your counfel. 'Tis th' advice 
 Of cold unfeeling wifdom, kindly meant 
 To make me prudent, and to leave me wretched : 
 Bat thus it is, that proud exulting health 
 Is ever ready to prefcribe a cure 
 For pain and ficknefs which it never knew. 
 
 Siw. There too thou err'ft ; for I have known its joys 
 And forrows too. In early life I loft 
 The partner of my foul. E'er fince that hour 
 I bade adieu to love, and taught my foul 
 To offer her devotions at the fluine 
 
 Of
 
 H MATILDA. 
 
 Of facred friendfhip ; there my vows are paid : 
 Morcar beft knows the idol of my worfhip. 
 
 More. I know and love thee for it : But O ! my friend, 
 I cannot force this tyrant from my breaft ; 
 E'en now I feel her here, fhe fits enthron'd, 
 Within the foldings of my heart, and he 
 Who tears her thence muft draw the life-blood from me. 
 My morning {lumbers, and my midnight dreams, 
 Are haunted by Matilda. 
 
 Sim. To be thus 
 
 The flave of one that {corns thee, O ! 'tis bafe, 
 Mean and unworthy of thee. 
 
 More. I will bear 
 
 That fcorn no longer : Thou haft rous'd me, Siwardf 
 I will enjoy the glorious prize ; fhe's mine, 
 By right of conqueft mine. I will affert 
 A vi&or's claim, and force her to be happy. 
 
 Siw. That muft not be. It ill becomes the man 
 Who takes up arms againft a tyrant's pow'r, 
 T' adopt a tyrant's maxims j force and love 
 Are terms that never can be reconcil'd. 
 You will not, muft not do it. 
 
 More. Muft not ! who 
 
 Shall dare oppofe me ! 
 
 Siw Honour, confcience, love, 
 
 The fenfe of fhame, your virtue, and your friend. 
 Whilft 1 have life, or pow'r, I will not fee 
 Matilda wrong'd. 
 
 More. Y u are her champion then 
 
 It feems, her favour'd, happy friend, perhaps 
 Her fond admirer too. lil-fated Morcar ! 
 I fee it but too well. I'm loft, abandon'd ; 
 Alike betray'd by fiienJftiip and by love. 
 I thank you, jSir, you have perform'd your office, 
 And merit your reward. 
 
 Siiv.
 
 MATILDA. 15 
 
 Situ. Unkind reproach ! 
 
 Did I for this defert my Sov'reign's caufe, 
 My peaceful home, and all its joys, to ferve 
 Ungrateful Morcar ? Why did I rebel ? 
 The haughty William never injur'd me. 
 For thee alone I fought, for thee I conquer'd ; 
 And, but for thee, long fince I hademploy'd 
 My gallant foldiers to a nobler purpofe, 
 Than loit'ring thus in idle camp to hear 
 Alove-fick tale, and footh a mad man's phrenzy. 
 
 More. You could ? Away, and leave me then< 
 
 With-draw 
 
 Your boafted aid, and bid Northumbria's fons 
 Bend to the tyrant's yoke, whilft I alone 
 Defend the caufe of freedom, and my country. 
 Here let us part. Remove your loiterers, 
 And join th' ufurper. 
 
 Si-i'j. Mark the difPrence now 
 
 Betwixt blind paffion and undaunted friendfhip : 
 You are impatient of the keen reproof, 
 Recaufe you merit : I can bear it all, 
 Becaufe I've not deferv'd it. 
 
 Enter an OFFICER. 
 
 Ojfic. Good, my Lords, 
 
 Forgive this rough intrusion, but the danger, 
 I rruft, will plead my pardon. As I watch'd 
 From yonder tow'r, a duflcy cloud appear'd, 
 As if from diftant troops advancing, foon 
 I faw their armour glitter in the fun ; 
 With rapid motion they approach'd j each moment 
 We mull expedl them here. 
 
 Sizo,
 
 16 MATILDA 
 
 Siw. Why, let 'em come, 
 
 Already I have order'd fit difpofal 
 Of all our little force. Away, good Ofmond, 
 Be filent and be ready. (Exit Officer. 
 
 Now, my friend, 
 
 Thou art as welcome to thy Siward's breaft, 
 As dear as ever. When the man I love, 
 Walks in the paths of error, I reprove him 
 With honeft freedom ; but when danger comes 
 Upon him, I forget his faults, and flee 
 With all a lover's ardour to his refcue ; 
 His forrows and his wants alone remember'd, 
 And all his follies buried in oblivion. 
 
 More. Thou haft difarmed me now. This pierces more 
 Than all the bitter poifon of reproach, 
 Which thou haft pour'd upon me. O F 'twas treafon 
 Againft the facred majefty of friendmip, 
 To doubt thy honour, or fufpeft thy virtue. 
 Thou wilt forgive : But when the wounded mind 
 Is torn with paffion, ev'ry touch is pam ; 
 You mould not probe fo deeply. 
 
 Size. 'Twas my duty. 
 
 But come, no more of that. The foe advances. 
 If we fucceed, as my prophetic foul 
 Foretels we mail J have fome comfort for you 
 If not, we'll borrow courage from defpair, 
 And die like men. Thou ftand'ft upon the rock 
 Of danger, and the yawning precipice 
 Opens before us ; I will fnatch thee from it, 
 Or leap the gulph, and perifli with my friend. 
 
 The End of tie Firjl
 
 MATILDA. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE, a Fortrefs belonging to MORCAR. 
 EDWIN alone (in chains.} 
 
 I 
 
 ,T is the will of heav'n, and muft be done. 
 The hard-fought field is loft, and here I am 
 A pris'ner in my brother's camp : alas ! 
 That fortune thus fhou'd guide me to a foe 
 Whom moft I wifh'd to fhun ! We little thought 
 The troops by Morcar led, had this way bent 
 Their ill-direfted courfe : but Providence 
 Hath fo ordain'd, perhaps, to heal the wounds 
 Of civil difcord. O ! unhappy Edwin, 
 For what art thou referv'd ? No matter what. 
 Since fate depriv'd me of my dear Matilda, 
 Whom I for three long years have fought in vain ; ,' c - 
 Life hath been irkfome to me : this, perchance, 
 May end it For, who knows iff-joature yet 
 May. live within the conqu'ror*s breaft, to plead 
 A brother's pardon ? Yet he knows me not, 
 But foon he muft Ha ! who comes here ? Earl 
 
 Siward [ 
 
 The fecond in command, to whom, o'erpower'd 
 By circling foes, and fainting with my wounds, 
 I yielded up my fword. If fame fay true, 
 He bears a mind too great to look with fcorn 
 On the Of prefs'd, or triumph o'er misfortune. 
 
 B Enter
 
 MATILDA. 
 
 Enter S i w A R D. 
 
 Siw. Stranger, whoe'er ihou art, be comforted j 
 Thy faie hath thrown thee into noble hands, 
 Who know thy merit. May I aflc thy name ? 
 
 Ed<w. I am a poor abandon'd wretch, the (port 
 Of fortune ; one whofe leaft affliction is 
 To be a captive, and from ev'ry eye 
 Wou'd wifh to hide the ftory of my fate : 
 Too foonmyname and forrows will be known. 
 
 Siw. Refpeft is ever due to mifery : 
 I will not urge thee further; all I hope, 
 That gen'rous pity could afford to footh 
 Calamity like thine, by my command 
 -Hath been extended to thee. Heie awhile 
 You muft remain a prii'ner, but ere long 
 1 hope to greet thee by a fairer name, 
 And rank thee as our friend. 
 
 Edw. Your geu'rous orders 
 
 .Have been obey'd, and I acknowledge it 
 With grateful hesrt May I not afk the fate 
 Of him who fought fo nobly by my fide, 
 That brave oldrrau. 
 
 Siw. The gallant Ranulph 
 
 Edw. Yes ; 
 
 My fellow captive. 
 
 Siw. He is fafc and fres. 
 
 Edm. Ha ! free ! Thank heav'n ? 
 
 Siw. The gen'rous Morcar, urg'd 
 
 By my entreaties, pardon'd and releas'd him, 
 Tho' much our foldiers murmur'd,and demanded 
 His life and your's ; a facrifice, they faid, 
 Due to the manes cf their flaughter'd fiiends ; 
 But mercy has prcvail'd.
 
 MATILDA 19 
 
 Edtu. What e'er becomes 
 
 Of an unhappy wanderer, like me, 
 For your kind treatment of the aged Ranulph, 
 Accept my thanks ; it was a precious boon ; 
 Morcar may find me not unworthy of it. 
 To day I am his captive, but to-morrow 
 May fee me his deliverer : for know 
 My royal matter, the victorious William, 
 With eagle fwiftnefs, foon will follow me 
 With twenty times your force. As this (hall prove 
 Or true, or falfe, fo deal with me ; remember 
 I warn'd you of it. 
 
 Size. And remember thou 
 
 That I with joy receive the welcome news : 
 Welcome to me, for I am William's friend. 
 
 Edio. Thou caa'ft not then be mine, orEngland's foe-. 
 With fuch a heart as thine, fo nobly form'd 
 To feel for the afflicted, fatisfy'd, 
 For thou feem'ft, of William's royal right, 
 What cou'd engage thee in this foul revolt, 
 This bafe rebellion ? 
 
 Siw. What but the great bond 
 
 Of kindred fouls, inviolable friendship ! 
 The only folid blifs on this fide heav'nj 
 Jhac doubles all the joys of human life, 
 And, by dividing, leflens ev'ry woe. 
 
 JLdw. Who knows but this day's fad event may prove 
 The happy means to heal a nation's wounds, 
 Aud foth our jarring factions into peace ? 
 
 Sito. Had Morcar thought with me, longfince thatend 
 Mad been obtain'd ; but Morcar is 
 
 Ed=w. Inexorable. 
 
 So I have heard, and therefore little hope 
 To change his nature. O ! cou'd he be wrought 
 To fweet oblivion of his wrongs ; to bury 
 
 B 2 His
 
 -o MATILDA. 
 
 His deep refentment : Mine fhou'd be the tafk, 
 A tafk, heav'n knows, I wou'd with joy perform, 
 To reconcile offended majcfty : 
 To foften all his errors, plead his pardon, 
 And give my fov'reign one brave foldier more. 
 
 Siw. When next we meet I trull it mail be fo : 
 Mean time, let me prepare him for the change ; 
 Retire a while-*~ere long we'll fend for thee, 
 Forev'ry moment I expeft him here : 
 Thy freedom and thy happinefs mall be 
 My firft concern, for thou haft well deferv'd it. 
 
 Edw. Farewel. Be quick in your reiblves; the time 
 Requires it ; and be wife ere 'tis too late. 
 
 [Exit Edwin. 
 
 S I \v A R D. (alone) 
 
 1 hope we mail. This well-tim'd victory, 
 If rightly us'd, may frnooth our way to peace. 
 Now, Morcar> all thy happinefs depends 
 Upon thyfclf alone. Now, friendihip, raife 
 Thy pow'iful voice, and force .him to be happy. 
 He will, he muft he comes 
 
 Enter M o R c A R. 
 
 Siw. My conqu'ror, welcome ! 
 
 More. Thrice welcome to my arms, my noble Siward; 
 At length we meet in joy, the day is ours ; 
 Thanks to thy friendly aid. 
 
 S:w. V/e muft net boaft ; 
 
 'Twas hardly purchas'd, and has coft us dear : 
 You follow'd 'em too clofe. 
 
 More.' I wn >twas r *ft ; 
 
 My youthful ardor urg'd the keen purfuit 
 Too' far j and 'but for thee I had been loft. 
 
 In
 
 MATILDA. -i 
 
 In war, thy arm prote&s me, and in peace, 
 Thy councils guide. O ! how fhall I return 
 Thy goodnefs ? Thou wert born to fave thy friend. 
 
 Siiv. Away, I'll not be thank'd. I've done my duty, 
 And if thou think 'ft thyfelf indebted for it, 
 Repay me not with flatt'ry, but with love. 
 E'er iince my foul with thine, congenial met 
 In focial bands, and mark'd theeforher own, 
 Thy int'reft and thy happinefs have been 
 My firil ambition -, and when thou art bleft 
 With all thy foul can wifli for, Siward then, 
 And then alone, will have his full reward. 
 
 More. O, unexampled faithfulnefs and truth ! 
 But fay, my Siward, is our lofs fo great? 
 
 Sizo. The flow'r of half our troops. But 'tis not now- 
 A time to vyeep, for I have glorious tidings, 
 That much imports thy happinefs. 
 
 More. Ha f what ? 
 
 Si*v. Know that amongft our captives I have ta'en 
 A noble prize, will make us full amends 
 For ev'ry lofs the gallant Ranulph. 
 More. Ha! 
 
 Matilda's father ! then I'm fatisfy'd. 
 The wily chief! by heav'n he fhall repay me 
 For her unkindnefs: Give him to my rage, 
 To my refentment, to my injur'd love. 
 Where is he, Siward ? 
 
 Siw. I have fet him free. 
 
 More. Ha! free! Thy ill-tim'd mercy hath betray'd; 
 Our caufe. The tyrant wou'd have ranfom'd him 
 With half his kingdom. 
 
 Siiv. Still thy rapid pailions 
 
 O'erpow'r thy reafon. What if it fliou'd ferve 
 A better purpofe; fmooth thy paths to blifs, 
 And gain Matilda for thee ! 
 
 B 3 Merc.
 
 22 MATILDA. 
 
 More. O, my friend ! 
 
 My Siward, do not flatter me : By heav'n, 
 Her kind confent wou'd give my ravifh'd foul 
 More true and heart-felt happinefs, than cou'd 
 A thoufand vidYnes o'er the proud ufurper. 
 
 Siw. Know then, I gave him liberty and life 
 On thefe conditions That he fhou'd withdraw 
 His pow'rs from William's aid, and never more 
 Affift his caufe; the time wou'd come, I told him, 
 That he fhou'd know to whom he ow'd the boon, 
 And how he might repay it. 
 
 Merc. That was kind, 
 
 Indeed, my Siward, that was like a friend. 
 O ! thcu reviv'fl my drooping heart ; but tell me, 
 Did my Matilda, let me call her mine, 
 Did fhe acknowledge, did fhe thank thee for it ? 
 
 Siw. O! I afTum'd no merit; but to thee, 
 And to thy gen'rous, unexampled love, 
 Did I attribute all. She figh'd, and wept, 
 Pour'd forth a thoufand ble/fings on thy head 
 
 More. And doft thou think, my Siward, that one ray 
 Of hope remains? 
 
 ,S/w, The clouds already vanifh, 
 
 The profped brightens round thee ; hafte and feiza. 
 The lucky moment. When the gen'rous mind 
 Js footh'd by obligation, foon it opens 
 To the mild diclates of humanity, 
 And foftens into fympathy and love. 
 
 More. O, Siward ! cou'd'it thou teach me but to win 
 That lovely maid 
 
 Fiw. The taflc is half perform'd 
 
 Already, and my friend fliall foon be blefs'd. 
 One thing, and one alone, remains to fix 
 Her tbiib'ful heart, if ye.t a doubt remains. 
 
 More.
 
 MATILDA. 23 
 
 Merc. O! name it, Shvard ; if 'tis in the pow'r 
 Of wealth to purchafe, or of victory 
 In the fair field of glory to acquire, 
 It fhall not long be wanting. 
 
 Siw. It requires 
 
 No price, but f'jch as Morcar well can pa/ ; 
 No vicVry, but the vidVry o'er thyfeli, 
 And thy own paffions Give up thy lefentmenr; 
 Make peace with William, and Matilda's thine. 
 ' More. Matilda mine! and muft I purchafe her 
 At the dear price of honour ? with the lofs 
 Of all my fotilholds dear, my country's welfare I 
 My wo-d 
 
 Siiv. Away I whilft prudence warranted: 
 
 Our honeft zeal, I was the firft to aid 
 Thy juft revenge ; but valour ill-advi ,'d, 
 And ill exerted in a hopelefs caufe, 
 Degen'rate into ralhnefs. You in i (lake 
 Th pride of honour, for the pride of virtue. 
 
 More. And wcu'd'ft thou have me bend beneath the' 
 Of ignominious flav'ry, quit the caufe (yok" 
 
 Of heav'n-born freedom, and betray my friends ? - 
 
 ?;'/. I'd have thee juft and happy We have been 
 Succefsful, let us now be generous, 
 -Whilft we have lomcthing to beftow; nor wait 
 Till fickle fortune from our brow (hall tear 
 The blafted wreath, and leave us nought to give, 
 Too long already have we facrihVd 
 At proud rmbition's altar, to revenge ; 
 Now let us offer ai the (hrine of peace, 
 And fafrirke- 
 
 Merc. To love, and to Matilda.^ . 
 
 It fhall be fo the ftruggle's part away, 
 My Siward, hafte, and tell her, I obey; 
 Her laws, her king, her mailer lhall be mine ; : 
 
 B 4 I have '
 
 24 MATILDA. 
 
 J have no will but hers, and in her eyes 
 Will read my duty Yet a moment flay, 
 What will my brave companions of the war, 
 My fellow foldiers fay ? Will they approve 
 This unexpected change ? 
 
 Siw. I know them firm 
 
 Jn their obedience, and refolv'd to ac~i 
 As yea command But-1 will fee 'em ftrait, 
 And urge fuch powerful reafons as may belt 
 Secure them to our parpofe. Fare thee well. 
 
 Marc. Siward, thy kind anticipating care 
 Prevents my ev'ry wifh But fay, my friend, 
 Where is the gallant chief, whom we fubdu'd, 
 Who fought fo hardly, and fo nobly fell ? 
 
 Siim. In yonder tent, a wretched pris'ner ftill, 
 He counts the tedious hours; a heavy gloom 
 Sits on his brow, as if fome deep-felt fcrrow 
 Opprefs'd his noble mind We niuft releafe him. 
 
 More. Thou know'ft, my Siward, thrice we had o'cr- 
 His troops, and thrice his /ingle valour turn'd (powVd 
 The fortune of the djy : Since firlt I trod 
 The paths of glory, ne'er did I behold 
 Such deed? of valour wrought by mortal hand; 
 I almoll envy'd, though Iconquer'd him. 
 He wore <hh beaver up, nor could I trace 
 His feature?, but he bears a noble form : 
 Know'it thou his quality or name : 
 
 Situ. Not yet; 
 
 He ieems induftrious to conceal them both 
 From ev'ry eye. 
 
 More. Some deity protects him, 
 
 As its peculiar care, for as I rais'd 
 My iwbrd sgainil him, whether the foft paflion 
 That triumphs o'er me. had unman:.'d niy foul, 
 J krovv not; but, bcie'.i cf all its pow'r,
 
 M A T r L D A. $5- 
 
 My nervelefs arm dropp'd ineffectual down, 
 And let him 'fcape me. 
 
 Sim. 'Tis moft true, I faw 
 
 And vvonder'd at it. When you left the field, 
 With defp'rate rage he rufh'd intrepid on, 
 And feem'd to court his fate, till circling foes 
 Compell'd him to refign, and'yisld his fword. 
 
 More. Away. I burn with ardor to forgive, 
 To free, and to embrace him: fly, my Siward. 
 Let him approach, he cou'd not wifh to meet 
 In happier hour, the mailer of his fate, 
 For now, methinks, I cou'd be reconcil'd 
 To ev'ry foe. Away, my Siward, hafte 
 And fend him to me. 
 
 Sim. Treat him like a friend,. 
 
 He may be ufeful. Such dillinguiflr'd merit 
 Mud have its influence, he commands, no doubt, 
 The royal car, and may procure fuch terms 
 As William may with honour yield, and we 
 Without a blufh accept. (Exit. Si-;.- 
 
 More, (alone) Farewel. And now 
 
 How ftands the great account ? Can I acqui': 
 Myfelf, or mall I be condemned before 
 Thy great tribunal, all-repaying jullice ? 
 * But fair Matilda wipes out ev'ry Itain, 
 'Tis fhe commands me to forgive, and me 
 Mull be obey'd ; I'm not the firft apoltate 
 From honour's caufe the tyrant love has made. 
 My friend too urg'd the change 
 
 (Guards bring in Edwin chained, 
 He's here Strike off 
 
 Thofe ignominious chains he has deferv'd 
 A better fate. (Guards unchain him. 
 
 Stranger, whoe'er thou art, (turning to Edwin, 
 Thy gallant bearing in th' unequal conjift, 
 
 BS For 

 
 26 MATILDA. 
 
 For we had twice thy numbers, hath endear'd 
 A foldier to a foldier. Vulgar minds 
 To their own party, and the narrow limits 
 Of partial friend/hip, meanly may confine 
 Their admiration ; but the brave will fee, 
 And feeing, praife the virtues of a foe. 
 
 Edw. (a/Me.} O, pow'rful nature, how thou work'ft 
 within me! 
 
 More. Still filent! ftill conceal'd! perchance thou 
 .Knowing thy rank and name, I might recal (fear'ft, 
 My proinis'd pardon ; but be confident, 
 For by that facrcd honour, which I hold 
 Dearer than life, I promife here to free, 
 And to proteft thee : did'll thou hide from me 
 My deadliest foe: Shou'd William's felf appear 
 Before me, he \vho hath fo deeply wrong'd me, 
 So long oppos'd : Nay, fhou'd I hear the voice 
 Of that advent'rous, ram, mifguided youth, 
 Whom yet I cannot hate my cruel brother,. 
 I cou'd forgive him. 
 
 Edw. (difcovering bimfelf.) Then behold him here. 
 
 More. Edwin! Amazement! By what wond'rous 
 Myftericus Providence, do'il thou unfold (means, 
 
 Thy fccret purpofes ? I little thought 
 When laft we met, what heav'n- protected victim 
 Efcap'd my fword. 
 
 Edw. With horror I recal 
 
 The dreadful circumftance. Throughout the battle 
 I knew, and carefully avoided thee. 
 
 More. O, Edwin ! how, on this propitious day, 
 Have vicYry, fame and friend fhip, fortune, love 
 And nature, all confpir'd to make me bleft! 
 We have been foes too !org Of that no more. 
 My Edwin, welcome .' Once more to thy arms 
 Receive a brother.
 
 MATILDA. 27 
 
 Edw. Yet a moment flay: 
 
 By nature touch'd the fame accordant firing 
 That vibrates on thy heart now beats on mine; 
 But honour, and the duty which I owe 
 The belt of kings, reftrain the fond embrace 
 I vvifli to fhare, and bid me aft, if yer 
 In Morcar I behold my fov'rergn's foe. 
 If it be fo, take baclc thy proffer'd freedom, . 
 Take back my forfeit life r I wou'd not wifh 
 To be indebted for it to a traitor. 
 
 More Perhaps I may deferve a better name ; , 
 Perhaps I may be chang'd. 
 
 Edv}. I hope thou art ; ; 
 
 For this I came, for this I yielded to thee, 
 To tell thee William's ftrength is ev'ry hour 
 Increafing: if thou meun'it to make thy peace, 
 Now is the crilis 
 
 More. Edwin, Hop, nor urge 
 Such mean unworthy motives as alone 
 Cou'd thwart my purpofe. Morcar cannot fear, 
 But Morcar can be gen'rous : for know, 
 Before I faw thee here I hid vefolv'd 
 To (heath my fword and bs the conqu'ror's friend ; 
 For O ! there is a cauie 
 
 Ed<w. Whate'er the caufe, 
 
 Th' effect is glorious. Now thou art again 
 My brother. Here, let us once more unite 
 The long-diflever'd cord. (They embrace* 
 
 More. And never mor$ 
 
 May blind refentment, faction, party, fage, 
 Envy, or jealous fear, diflblve the tye ! 
 And now, my Edwin, blufhing, I confefs, 
 Not to thy tender care for Morcar's fafety, 
 To friendship's council, or to realon's voice, 
 Owe we this wifli'd for change. A female hand 
 Directs and wills ir v
 
 r2# JW A i I L D A. 
 
 EJnv. Hu ! a woman ! 
 
 Yes, . - \ 
 
 If fuch I ought to call that form divine, / 
 
 Which triumphs here, who rules my .ev'ry though:, 
 My ev'ry action guides. In. yonder tent 
 A beauteous captive dwell. 5 , who hath enflav'd 
 Her conqu'ror : She demands the iacriiice ; 
 She wou'd not give her hand to William's foe, 
 And therefore, only, Morcar is his friend. 
 
 Edw. I cou'd have wifh'd that this important change 
 Were to the hero, not the lover, due. 
 
 More. I am above deceit, >nd own my weaknefs ; 
 But thou (halt fee her Yes, my Edwin, thou 
 Shalt bear the welcome tidings to my lo,ye. 
 Thy prefence will bear witnefs to the ch.ar.gs ; 
 Thy freedom, and the joyful news tiho.a bring'lt 
 Of our blefl union, will confirm it to her. 
 Wilt thou, my Edwin 
 
 Edw. Do not afk me what 
 
 I muft refufe. I wou'd do much to ferve 
 A friend and brother; but. a talk of joy. 
 Ill fuits a foul opprefs'd with griefs like mine. 
 
 ! i cou'd tell thee but'twou'd be unkind, 
 When thou art ent'ring on the paths of blifs, 
 To Hop thee with my melancholy tale. 
 
 More. What e'er thy griefs, I pity, and hereafter 
 May find the means to leflen, or remove them ; 
 Mean time this tender office may divert 
 Thy forrows ; nay, if thou deny'it me, Edwin, 
 
 1 fhaii not think our union is fincere. 
 
 Edw. Then be it fo. 
 
 More. I'll fend a trufty flave 
 
 That fhall conduct thee to her. Soon I mean 
 To follow thee awaybegone and profper. 
 
 But,
 
 M A T I L D A. 29 
 
 ' But, O, my brother ! if thou hall a heart 
 "J'frat js not fteel'J with iloic apathy 
 A gain-It the magic, of alfconquYmg [ove, 
 Beware of beauty's povv'r ; for flie hao charms 
 Wou'd melt the frozen bread of hoary age, 
 Or draw the lonely hermit from his cell 
 To gaze upon her. 
 
 Edw. Know, thy fears are vain ; 
 
 For long, long fince,' by honor's iacred tyes, 
 United to the lovelieft of her fex, 
 Edwin, like Morcar, is to one alone 
 Devoted, and my heart is fix'd'as thine. 
 
 Morc r Then I am bleft. Thy fympathetic foul, 
 With warmer feeling?, mail exprefs my paffion, 
 Wak'd by the fond remembrance of thy own. 
 
 Go then, thy kind returning friend/hip prove, 
 
 Go, plead with all the eloquence of love; 
 
 And as thou do'ft thy brother's anguilh telJ, 
 
 Still on thy lips may fofc perfuafion dwe.ll ! 
 
 Urge my fond fuit with energy divine, 
 
 Nor ccaf; till thou hail made the lovely captive mine 
 
 The End cf tfo Stcond AH. 
 
 ACT
 
 5 o MATILDA. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE, MATILDA'^ Tent, <witb a 
 of the Camp. 
 
 MATILDA BERTHA. 
 MATILDA. 
 
 \^/J Bertha ? I have had fuch frightful dreams, 
 They harrow'd up my foul. 
 
 Bert. It is the work 
 
 Of bufy fancy in thy troubled mind ; 
 Give it no heed. 
 
 Matil. O ! it was more, much morer 
 
 Than fancy ever form'd ; 'twas real all ; 
 It haunts me ftill, and ev'ry circumftance 
 Is now before me ; but I'll tell thee all. 
 Scarce had Iclos'd my eyes, to feek that reft - 
 Which long had been a ftranger, when methought 
 Alone I wander'd thro' a mazy wood, 
 Befet with thorns and briars on ev'ry fide j 
 The mournful image of my wretched date : 
 When, from a winding walk, the beauteous form- 
 Of my lov'd Edwin, feem'd to glide acrofs, 
 And ran with- hafte to meet me : But, behold ! 
 A tyger rum'd between, and feiz'd upon hirru 
 I fhriek'd aloud. 
 
 Bert. 'Twas terrible. 
 
 MatiL But mark 
 
 What follow'd ; for a gleam of light broke in, 
 And fav'd me from defpair : When 'crofs the glade 
 
 A gen'rcus
 
 MATILDA. 31 
 
 A gen'rous lyon, as with pity mov'd 
 
 At the unequal conflift, darted forth 
 
 And fprung with vengeance on the fpotted beafrv 
 
 Who turn'd with fury on his nat'ral foe, 
 
 And loos'd my Ed\\in j he efcap'd, and fled : 
 
 I wak'd in agonies. 
 
 Bert. Be comforted ;, 
 
 The dream prefages good : Some gen'rous friend 
 Shall fave him from the perils of the war, 
 And give him to thy longing arms again. 
 
 Matt!. O, never, never ! 
 
 Enter an OFFICER, 
 
 Officer. Noble lady, one 
 
 From William's camp, by Morcar's orders fent, 
 Wou'd crave a minute's conference, and fays 
 He bears fome news that may be welcome. 
 
 Matil. Ha ! 
 
 From Willizun's camp ! O, flatt'ring hope ! who knows 
 But he may bring fome tidings of my love ! 
 Tidings, perhaps, ] may not wim to hear. 
 Perhaps he comes to fpeak of Edwin's death ; 
 Or Edwin's falftiood Be it as it may, 
 L cannot be more wretched than I am. 
 Condudl him hither. (Exit- Qjpctr. 
 
 Q, my flutt'ring heart I 
 Look yonder ! ho ^imagination forms 
 What mofl .we wifh for ; fee, he comes It is, 
 It is my Edwin Save me, Bertha ! O ! 
 
 (as be enters Jbe faints- 
 Enter EDWIN. 
 
 Efa. What do I fee ? Matilda here ! fhe faints/ 
 
 Am
 
 3 2 MATILDA. 
 
 Am I deferted then ? abandon'd, loft, 
 
 Betray'd by her I love ? She breathes, fhe- lives f 
 
 But not for me for Morcar; for my brother. 
 
 MATILDA, (toBertba) 
 
 Where is he ? O ! it was delufion all ; 
 The form deceiv'd me. Had it been my love,. 
 He wou'd have flown with rapture to me See- 
 He ftands far off, and will not look upon me. 
 
 Edw. I dare nor. 
 
 MatiL Is it thus we meet again ? 
 
 Is this the kind, the tender, faithful Edwin ? 
 
 Edw. Art thou Matilda ? Speak ; for I am lo$ 
 In wild aftonifhment. It cannot be. 
 In Morcar's camp ! Is this the lovely captive 
 That I fhou'd meet ? 
 
 MatiL All-feeing heav'n, 
 
 Bear witnefs for me : If, from that fad hour 
 When laft we parted, this devoted heart 
 Hath ever wander'd, ever cart one thought, 
 Or forrn'd a with for any blifs but thee, 
 Defpife me, Edwin ; flight me, caft me off 
 To infamy and fhaine. 
 
 Edw. I muft, I muft 
 
 Believe thee ; Yet, 'tis ftrange when thou fhalt knoyv 
 From whom I came, and what my errand here. 
 Thou wiit not call me cruel or unkind, 
 When I mall tell, thee I am come to claim 
 Another's right, O ! heav'n, another's right 
 To my Matilda; to requeft thy hand 
 For Morcar. 
 
 MatiL For thy brother ! 
 
 Edzo. Yes, ev'n now 
 
 We parted. Here he told me I mould meet 
 .A beauteous captive ; little did I think
 
 M A T I L D A. 35 
 
 It was Matilda, whom he long had vvoo'd ; 
 Whofe gen'rous heart, he hop'd, wou'd now accept 
 A convert made to loyalty by love ; 
 She only waited for thatbleft event, 
 With mutual ardour to return his paffion. 
 Can it be thus ? Alas ! thy prefence here 
 Confirm* k but too weli. 
 
 that'll. Appearance of:, 
 
 By itrange events and caufelefsjealouly, 
 Confounds the guilty with the innocent. 
 But fure my Edwin's noble mind difdains 
 To cherifh low fufpicion ; 'tis a vice 
 Abhorrent to thy nature, and Matilda 
 Will never practice it on thee. True love 
 Knows not diftruft, or diffidence, but refts 
 On its o'.vn faith fecure, and hopes to meet 
 The truth it merits. 
 
 Edw. Can this be the voice 
 Of falfliood ? Can thofe lips ? 
 
 Matil. Miftaken man ! 
 
 Cou'dft thou e'er credit the delufive tale ? 
 Cou'dft thou believe I had fo foon forgot 
 My plighted faith ? But fince I am fufpected, 
 Return, and bear this anfwer back to Morcar. 
 F\ril fay, I thank him for the choice he made 
 Of tnee to be the herald of his love : 
 For what is there Matilda can refufe, 
 That Edwin could requeli ? . 
 
 Edw. O ! that recals 
 
 A thoufand tender thoughts-- . 
 
 Matil, Go tell him too, 
 
 What e'er I Yalhly promis'd but to gain 
 A few fliort moments, to preferve my king, 
 And fave a father's life, I never meant 
 To feign a paflion which I cou'd not feel ; 
 
 FOJ
 
 34 MATILDA. 
 
 For I was deftin'd to another's arms ; 
 To one, who now regardlefs of his vows 
 To poor Matilda, after three long years 
 Of cruel abfence from her, comes at laft 
 To doubt her honour, and fufpeft her love. 
 
 Ediu. O! never, never. Sooner will I doubt 
 The pow'rs of nature, and believe thefe eyes' 
 Can mifinterpret ev'ry object here, 
 Than think thee falie. O ! take me to thy arms 
 And bury all my doubts. Can'ft thou forgive 
 The jealous warmth of agonixmg paffion ? 
 
 Matit. I can : I muft. JBut fay, to what bleft chance 
 Am 1 indebted for this happy moir.f nt ? 
 
 Ettto. The chance of war. I am a pris'ner here, 
 And but for ihee 
 
 Mali!. When I mall tell thee all 
 
 That I have fuffer'd fince we parted laft 
 Thou wilt not blame, but pity poor Matilda. 
 Mean while be calm ; it is not now a time 
 For idle doubts and vifionary fears 
 When real dangers threat. I fee already, 
 By thy imparfedt tale, what mifery 
 Mult (bort await us, when the fiery Earl 
 Shall know this ftrange event. 
 
 Edw* And wherefore know it^ 
 
 Why not conceal our pafiion, till fome means 
 Of freedom offer ? 
 
 Matil. I abhor the thought. 
 
 No, Ldwin, no. The crifis of our fate 
 Approaches. Never let us Itain our loves 
 With crooked fraud and bafe diffimulation. 
 Hark ! did'ft thou hear a voice in yonder grove ? 
 Siward inconf'rence with the haughty Earl ; 
 Behold them fee they part and Morcar hafles 
 
 With
 
 MATILDA. 55 
 
 With quick impatient ilep, to know his fate. 
 Now fummon all thy pow'rs. 
 
 Edvi. I am prepar'd. 
 
 He comes : a few Ihort minutes will determine 
 Whether Matilda plays the hypocrite, 
 Or is deferving of her Edwin's love. 
 
 Enter MORCAR. 
 
 More. At length I hope Matilda's fatisfy'd. 
 Edwin has told thee what a facrifice 
 My heart hath made. Ambition, glory, pride, 
 And fierce refentment bend beneath thy pow'r, 
 And yield the palm to all-fubduing love. 
 Yes, thou haft conquer'd. I am William's friend ; 
 The ftruggle's paft. I have perform'd the talk 
 Affign'd, and come to claim my juft reward. 
 
 Matil. By virtuous afts the feJf-approving mind 
 Is amply paid, nor feeks a recompence 
 From ought befide. You have redeem'd your honour, 
 Turn'd to the paths of duty, and difcharg'd 
 The debt you owe your country, and your king : 
 England and William will be grateful for it. 
 What can you wifh for more ? 
 
 More. There is a prize, 
 
 More welcome far, beyond what e'er a king 
 Or kingdom can bellow thy love 
 
 Matil. My lord ! 
 
 More. If to have fav'd thee from the brutal rage 
 Of pitilefs ruffians j if to have renounc'd 
 A victor's claim, and be myfelf the Have 
 Of her I conquer'd ; if to have releas'd 
 My bitt'reft foe, becaufe ally'd to thee; 
 If, afttr all my cruel wrongs, t' accept 
 
 \ TAe
 
 3 6 MATILDA. 
 
 The proud oppreflbr's hand, can merit ought, 
 I am not quite unworthy of the boon. 
 
 Matil. The good and ju ft, my lord, demand our praife, 
 And gen'rous deeds will claim the tribute due, 
 The debt of humble gratitude; but love, 
 Love, that muft mark the colour of our days 
 For good or ill, for happinefs or woe. 
 'Tis not the gift of fortune, or of fame, 
 Nor earn'd by merit, nor acquir'd by virtue, 
 All the rich treafures, which, or wealth, or povv'r 
 Have to beftow, can never purchafe that 
 Which the free heart alone itfelf muft give. 
 
 Mart, Give it with freedom then to him who mod 
 Hath ftudy'd to deferve 
 
 Matil. You talk, my lord, 
 
 As if the right of conqueft cou'd beftow 
 A right more precious, and a dearer claim ; 
 But know, for now 'tis time to throw afide 
 The veil that long hath hid from Morcar's eje 
 The fecret of my foul ; and fay at la ft 
 I never can be thine. 
 
 More. Ha! Never! O, 
 
 Recal that word ! 
 
 Matil. I muft not: Edwin knows 
 
 There is a bar of adamant between, 
 That muft for ever part us. 
 
 More. Ha ! for ever ! 
 
 Diftraftion! can it be ? Take heed, Matilda, 
 I am not to be mock'd thus. O, my brother ! 
 Did'ft thou not hear her ? But aftonifhment 
 Has clos'd thy lips in filence Never mine ! 
 And wherefore not be mine ? (turning to Matilda*. 
 
 Matil. Becaufe I am 
 
 Another's Well I know our haplefs fex, 
 So cuftom wills, and arbitrary man, 
 Is taught in fearful filence to conceal The
 
 M A' T I L D A. 3- 
 
 I he honeft feelings of a tender heart : 
 
 Elfe, wherefore fhou'd Matilda blufh to own 
 
 A virtuous paffion for the beft of men ? 
 
 More. A virtuous paffion ! grant me patience, heav'n ! 
 
 I am betray'd, abandon'd, loft. Another's! 
 
 Some fawning flave, fome Norman plunderer, 
 
 Rich with the ravifh'd fpoils of Englifh valour, 
 
 Hath fnar'd her eafy heart, and tortur'd mine. 
 
 But I will drag him from his dark abode ; 
 
 Where e'er he lurks, he fha.ll ? not 'fcape my vengeance. 
 
 Thou hear'ft her, Edwin. 
 
 Edia. . Aye : Who wou'd not wifh 
 
 To hear the voice of nature, and of love, 
 
 Thus nobly pleading by the lips of truth ? 
 
 More. Amazement! Thou art link'd with the 'vile' 
 
 That hath ufurp'd my right. - All, all confpire^ (flave_ 
 
 To make me wretched. 
 
 Edvi. Why fhou'd Morcar think 
 
 That lovely maid wou'd aft beneath herfelf, 
 And make fo mean a choice ? Now, on my foul, 
 I doubt not but the object of her love 
 Hath earn'd the glorious prize, and will be found 
 Defervingof it. 
 
 More. Thou know'ft him then ? 
 
 Edw. I do ; 
 
 Know him as brave, as noble as thyfelf : 
 One who wou'd fcorn, howe'er the outward aft 
 Might feem unworthy of him, to do ought 
 That fhou'd difgrace his family and name, 
 A man he is of yet untainted honour, 
 Of birth and valour equal to thy own, 
 Though fortune frowns upon him, 
 
 More. Now by heaven, 
 
 But that I know thy eyes were never bleft 
 With my Matilda's charms, I fliou'd fufpcft 
 Thou hadft betray'd the facred truft repos'd
 
 38 MATILDA. 
 
 In thy falfe heart, by unfufpefting friendlhip, 
 And vver't thyfelf the traitor. 
 
 Ediu. Think fo ftill. 
 
 Let fancy, ever bufy to torment 
 The jealous mind, alarm thee with the thought 
 Of feeing him whom thou hall thus revil'd ; 
 Stand forth and dare the proof; fuppofe him here 
 Before thee, ready to aflert his claim, 
 His prior right to all the joys that love 
 And fair Matilda can beftow: Then look 
 On me, and know thy rival in thy brother. 
 
 More. Confufion ! horror ! mifery ! O, heav'n ! 
 Can'it thou behold fuch complicated guilt, 
 Such unexampled perfidy, and yet 
 With -hold thy vengeance ? Let thy light'nings blaft 
 The bafe betrayer ! O, Matilda ! falfe, 
 Deceitful, cruel woman ! 
 
 Matil. 'Tis the lot 
 
 Of unprotected innocence to meet 
 The cruel cenfure, which to guilt alone 
 Is due. I've not deceiv'd, I've not betray'd thee ; 
 And wou'd'ft thou Men to the artlefs tale 
 
 I cou'd unfold- 
 
 More. Away ! I will not hear, 
 
 Nor fee, nor think of thee. Deceitful villain ! 
 Was this thy kind concern for Morcar's fafety ? 
 Was it for this that fubtle Edwin came 
 A willing captive ? Boafted William's fltength, 
 And lur'd me to a bafe, inglorious peace ? 
 That, like a midnight ruffian, he might flea], 
 Unfeen and unfufpeded on my love, 
 And rob me of Matilda. 
 
 Edw. I abhor 
 
 A thought fo mean ; the bare fufpicion ftains, 
 With, fuch foul blot, my honour and my name, 
 
 I will
 
 MATILDA. 39 
 
 I will not deign to anfwcr thee. My birth 
 Alone might prove, to any fenfe but thine, 
 That i difdain it : 'Tis enough to fay 
 I am Earl Morcar's brother. 
 
 Marc. I difclaim 
 
 All ties of nature, or of friendship with thee, 
 And henceforth hold thee as my deadlieft foe : 
 As fuch I will purfue thee, flave, for know 
 Thou art my pri.s'ner ftill Who waits there ? Seize 
 
 And guard this traitor. 
 
 (Guards enter andfeize on Edwin. 
 MATILDA, (kneeling to Mercar). 
 
 O, my lord ! if e'er 
 
 Soft pity touch'd thy breaft, if e'er thy heart 
 Felt the warm glow of fympathetic grief 
 For the unhappy, do not let the rage 
 Of thoughtltfs paffion urge thee to a deed 
 Of horror, which, too late, thou wilt repent. 
 O, fpare a guiltlefs brother, fpare thyfelf 
 The bitter pangs of fad remofe that foon 
 Shall harrow up thy foul, when radiant truth 
 Shall flafh conviftion on thee. O ! forgive 
 And pity- 
 
 Edw. Rife, Matilda : 'Tis Leneath 
 
 The dignity of innocence to kneel 
 Before proud guilt, and fupplicatc a tyrant. 
 MATILDA, (rijing.) 
 
 I feel the jufl reproach Forgive me, Edwin ; 
 Henceforth I never will difgrace thy love, 
 By mean fubmifllon. Morcar, if thou hop'ft 
 For future peace, or pardon, fet us free. 
 
 More. I'll hear no more, convey her to her tent. 
 
 Matil. Edwin, adieu ! If honour, virtue, truth, 
 And mutual love, protect the innnocent, 
 
 We
 
 40 MATILDA 
 
 We yet fhall meet in happinefs farewel ! 
 
 [Exit Matilda guarded. 
 More. Let none have entrance there, but faithful 
 
 Si ward. 
 
 Wou'd he were here, that I might pour my forrows 
 Into his friendly bofom ! O, Siward ! 
 Where art thou ? Ha, he comes ! 
 
 Enter SIWARD. 
 
 Situ. My Lord, the troops, 
 
 Flufh'd with their late fuccefs, refufe all terms 
 Of peace with William, and cry out for war 
 And vengeance 
 
 More. They fhall have it. New, by heav'n, 
 
 Thou bring'ft me glorious tidings well, what more ? 
 
 &'w. They have difcover'd that the noble pris'ner, 
 Who had furrender'd, is thy brother Edwin ; 
 This hath alarm'd them ; they fufpedl you both 
 Of vilecollufion, to betray their caufe, 
 .And yield them to the tyrant. If, they fay, 
 You mean them fair, let Edwin be confm'd 
 And anfwer for the treafon, with his life. 
 
 More. And fo he mail : They cou'd not afk a boon 
 Which Morcar wou'd more readily beftow ; 
 Already their requeft is granted. See 
 The traitor is fecur'd. All-feeing heav'n ! 
 Thou fee'ft howjuftice will o'crtake the wicked ! 
 
 Siw. What can this mean ? Since laft I faw, m'y friend, 
 How the fair day that fhone fo bright upon us, 
 Is fuddenly o'ercaft. 
 
 More. Alas, my Siward ! 
 
 When thou (halt know but 'tis enough to fay 
 Matilda's falfe, and Edwin is a villain.
 
 MATILDA 41 
 
 &'<w. Amazement ! can it be ? 
 
 Merc. ' It is too true; 
 
 And I am loft for ever. O, Matilda ! 
 Deceitful woman ! 
 
 Sim. 'Tis not now a time 
 
 For idle plaints : Confult your fafcty : Fly 
 
 This moment to the camp your prefence there, 
 
 And that alone, may quell the riling ftorm : 
 Leave Edwin to my care. 
 
 More. I go, my Siward, 
 
 Safe in thy friendmip ; I entruft to thee 
 My j uft revenge. Yon mofs-grown tcw'r that hangs 
 O'er the deep flood-- 'tis under thy comir.ard 
 Place double guard he muft not 'fcape hi 5 fate 
 Shall be determin'd foon. What e r 'er it prove, 
 It cannot be more wretched than my own. [Exit Mor- 
 
 ED'.VIN, SIWARD. 
 
 EDWIN. (pointing to the guards.) 
 
 Where is rny dungeon ? My conductors h-.-re 
 Wait but your orders j give 'em their commifiion ; 
 For you, it feems, Sir, are to execute 
 The friendly office : Do it, and be happy. 
 
 Si. Guards, let your pris'ner fres Thou little 
 
 know 'ft 
 
 Of Siward': foul, to think it joys in ought 
 That gives another pain. I've learnt too well, 
 In fad affliction's hard, but wholefome fchool, 
 The lefibn of humanity. 
 
 Edw. O gen'rous Siward, if thou haft a heart 
 To feel for others mis'ries, pity mine, 
 And poor Matilda's ; She has not defervM 
 A fate like this. 
 
 C Siia'.
 
 42 M A T I L D A. 
 
 Si*v. Alas! it rives my foul 
 
 To fee the tender bonds of amity 
 Thus torn afundcr by the very means, 
 I fondly thought forever vvou'd unite them ; 
 And the fair ilruclurc, which my hopes had rais'd, 
 Of love and friendfhip, in a moment jlirunk 
 From its weak bale, and bury'd all in ruin. 
 If thou can'ft prove thy innocence, as yet 
 I hope thou wilt, for in that noble mein 
 I read a confcious pride, that vvou'd not ftoop 
 To ought thai's bafe Still may I hope to heal 
 Thefe bleeding woulds, and footh him to forgivenefs. 
 Mean time be tree. Give me thy facred word, 
 The foldier's oath, thou wilt be found when e'er 
 I call upon thee ; and yon tent alone 
 S'hall be thy prifon ; free to range around, 
 Far as my guard extends. 
 
 Edw. Accept my thanks, 
 
 The humble tribute of a grateful heart ; 
 'Tis all I have to give. The time may come 
 When Edwin fhall repay thee as he ought. 
 
 S/iv. Is there ought more, which honour, and the duty 
 I owe my friend, permit me to bellow, 
 That thou wou'dfl afk ? 
 
 Edw. O, grant me to behold 
 
 Thatinjur'd maid, to take my Jalt farewel; 
 Then ad as fate and Morcar ihall determine. 
 1 give the pledge of fafety thou requir'lt, 
 And will be found fpeak, wilt thou Men to me ? 
 
 Siw. Of that we'll talk hereafter come within 
 I'll hear thy ftory Thou but know'ft me yet 
 As Morcar's friend ; hereafter thou may"ft find 
 I am ftill more the friend of truth and virtue. 
 
 We End of the Tbird
 
 MATILDA. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE, An Apartment belonging to Si WARD, 
 opening to a wood. 
 
 EDWIN, MATJLDA. 
 EDWIN. 
 
 X HANKS t<y the noble Siward's gen'rous pity 
 For the diftrefs'd ; once more we meet, Matilda, 
 But only meet, alas ! to mourn our fate, 
 To feel each others woes, and to be wretched. 
 
 Mafil. Eternal bleffings wait on him who thus 
 Cou'd fweeten forrow's bitter draught, and make 
 Captivity a bleiTing ! O, my Edwin ! 
 A few fhort moments fpent with thofe we love, 
 Is Worth an age of common life. 
 
 Edw. With thee 
 
 Indeed it is ; but we are on the verge 
 Of a dark precipice, and ev'ry ftep 
 Is dangerous. If Morcar fliou'd return, 
 And find us here together, we are loft 
 For ever ; thou haft fecn, and feen with horror, 
 The defp'rate rage of his tumultuous foul, 
 'Let us avoid it, let us 
 
 Matt!. What, my love ? 
 
 Thou art my guide, proteflor, guardian, all 
 I have to boaft on earth. O ! teach me where 
 To find fome bleft afylum for my woes, 
 And guide my footfleps to the paths of peace. 
 
 Edw. Let me entreat thee then 
 
 C 2 Mattf.
 
 44 M A T I L D A. 
 
 Matil. O, fpeak ! thou know'il 
 
 I have no will but thine. 
 
 Edw. Then leave me, leave 
 
 This hated roof: I have a friend within, 
 Who (hall conduct thee to the royal camp 
 In fafety ; bear this fignet to the king, 
 He will protect thee, and what ever fats 
 Decrees for me, Matilda may be happy. 
 
 Matil. O ! never, never : Safety dwells with thee, 
 And thee alone. Without my faithful Edwin, 
 The peopled city, and the crouded court, 
 Wou'd be a defart to me. No, my love, 
 We will not part : The fame benignant pow'r 
 That led thee hither, that, beyond my hopes 
 Brought my loft Edwin to thefe arms again, 
 Will ftill protect that virtue which it loves. 
 
 Edw. Did'it thou not tell me, that this very morn 
 Thou had'ft determin'd, as the only means 
 To fhun my brother's love, on fudden flight ? 
 
 Matil. But then I fliou'd have fled in fearch of thee. 
 
 Edw'. Thou winning foftnefs ! ho'.v lhali I reward 
 Such unexampled lend-rnefs and truth ! 
 
 Matil. By flying with me. Come, m) love, lead on, 
 I'll follow thee to dangers and to death ; 
 Nor perils fhall affright, nor labours tire, 
 When thou art with me. 
 
 Edw. . No; It mull not be. 
 
 Matil. Why ? What fhou'd keep thee here ? 
 
 Ed<w. The ties of honour. 
 
 Matil. And are they ftrongei than the bonds of love? 
 
 Edw. To Siward's kind indulgence, well thou 
 
 know'ft, 
 
 I owe this little interval of peace, 
 This tranfient gleam of happinefs with thee } 
 And fliou'd I break my facred word, hi* life 
 
 Might
 
 MATILDA. 45 
 
 Might anfvver for it ; wou'd'ft thou have, me thus 
 Repay his kindnefs ? No, my love ; I may 
 Ik wretched, but I cannot be ungrateful. 
 
 Matil Mud thou return tken to that hateful prifon 
 When Morcar comes ? 
 
 Edw. I jnufl. O! think when I' 
 
 Am pent within a loathfome dungeon, who 
 Shall {richer then thy unprote&ed virtue ? 
 No Edwin there to fuccour thee : Who knows 
 What brutal luft and pow'r may dare to aft, 
 On a deferred, beauteous, fnendlefs woman ? 
 Diilra&ing thought ! A monarch's vengeance then 
 Wou'd come too late; wou'd make me poor amends 
 For my Matilda's violated charms. 
 
 Matil. He cannot be fo mean, fo bafeof foul, 
 Or if he fhou'd, I Jiave a dagger here 
 To fave me from difhonour. 
 
 Edw. What! by death? 
 
 Dreadful alternative ! O ! hazard not 
 Thy precious life, but feize the lucky moment 
 Which fortune gives us, ere it be too late. 
 
 Matil. Urge me no more ; already I Have felt, 
 Too deeply felt, the pangs of abfence from thee : 
 Another feparation wou'd be worfe 
 Than death, and all its terrors No my love; 
 We are cmbark'd on a tumultuous fea, 
 Am. KU; ft a bids the fury of the florm. 
 The waves of ar.gry fortune may o'erwhelm 
 But fball not part us: We will ilem the torrent,, 
 Brave the prond ocean's rage, and gain the harbour 
 Of peace and happinefs - or Jtnk together. 
 
 Edw. Thou haft foretold the tempeft, and behold; 
 It rufhes on us. 
 
 C Enter
 
 46 MATILDA. 
 
 Enter MORCAR and HAROLD. 
 
 Matil. Ha ! Earl Morcar here ! 
 
 More. Harold, I thank thee ; thy intelligence 
 Was but too true. (turning to Edwin. 
 
 Traitor ! who fet thee free ? 
 
 They wou'd have 'fcap'd my vengeance falfe Matilda ? 
 'Tis thus I am rewarded for my love, 
 My ill-tim'd mercy to a thanklefs brother. 
 Back to thy dungeon, flave. Guards, drag him hence, 
 To prifon, and to death. (to tkefoldiers. 
 
 Edw. Or death, or life, 
 
 Are equal to me, if I muft be torn 
 From my Matilda. But, vvhate'er thy purpofe, 
 Be fpeedy in thy vengeance, nor delay 
 The cruel work; for know, thy matter comes, 
 William approaches to revenge my caufe. 
 
 More. But not to fave thee. 
 
 Edzo. Then farewel, Matilda, 
 
 Perhaps for ever If we meet no more 
 Thou wilt remember But I will not doubt 
 Thy honour, or thy love. I know thy truth. 
 Know thou wilt aft as belt becomes thy fate, 
 Whate'er it be, and worthy of thyfelf. 
 
 Matil. Of tbee, my Edwin, rather fay of thts. 
 Yes ; I will copy well thy bright example ; 
 I'll not difgrace thy love with woman's weaknefs, 
 But part without a tear. I will but ftay 
 To tell thy tyrant brother how 1 hate, 
 How I defpife him, and then follow thee. 
 
 More. I'll hear no more begone ! away with him. 
 For thee, Matilda - - \Exeunt guards with Eiuin. 
 
 Matil.- What for me remains 
 
 1 know too well ; thy odious love, reproach 
 Unmerited, and threats which I defpife. 
 
 Thou
 
 MATILDA. 47 
 
 Thou think'lt I have deceiv'd thee think fb ftill. 
 Enjoy thy error. Thou believ'ft us guilty ; 
 'Twill make thee happy now Perchance to find 
 Us innocent, may be thy punifhment hereafter. 
 
 Marc. Aye, 'twas a proof of innocence to fly, 
 Thou and thy paramour together. 
 
 Matil. No ; 
 
 I fcorn a thought fo mean. Cou'd I have left 
 My Edwin, long ere this I might have been 
 Beyond the reach of tyranny : beyond 
 Thy hated pow'r ; and fafc beneath the wing 
 Of facred majefty, in William's care. 
 
 More. In William's care ! 
 
 Matil. Thy conqueror's for know 
 
 The hero comes to fcatter blefiings round him, 
 To heal his country's wound?, chaftife rebellion, 
 And punifh falfe perfidious flaves like thee. 
 
 More. By heav'ns ! fhe braves my wrath, infults rnv 
 And triumphs o'er her flave. (weaknefs, 
 
 Matil. There was a time, 
 
 When with an eye of pity, I beheld 
 Thy hopelefs love ; when I conceal'd my pafuon 
 For the dear idal of" my heart, becaufe 
 I fear'd 'twould make thee wretched ; but thy rage, . 
 Thy crael treatment of a guiltlefs brother, 
 Has caneell'd all. 
 
 A.W. Then, mark me: If thoo hop'il. 
 
 For Edwin's freedom, make off this v!: paffion ; 
 Yield thy proud heart to him who befl dcferves it, 
 And meet me at-the altar Two hours hence 
 I (hall expect thee there Beyond that time 
 He may not live to th.ank th:e for thy bounty. 
 
 Matil. Then let him periih glut thy tyrant foul 
 With vengeance : bathe it in a brother's blood. 
 All ruffian, all barbarian, as thou art, 
 
 C 4 Thou
 
 48 M A T i L D A. 
 
 Thou can": r-ot murder his immortal fame: 
 Thou ca..'. rot rob him of Matilda's love. 
 But know when he, for whom alone this pulle 
 Wou'd wifh to beat, this lazy blood to flow 
 Within my veins, when he fliall be no more ; 
 Another life fliall latiate thy revenge ; 
 Another viclim fhall attend thy triumph. 
 
 More. Thou talk'ft it nobly -'tis the common trick, 
 The affectation of thy fex to boaft 
 A fancied firmnefs, which ye never knew ; 
 But with affrighted nature thou wou'd'fl fhrink 
 When death approaches. 
 
 Matil. Put me to the proof. 
 
 If thou Aveu'd'ft punim Edwin, know he lives 
 Wi- bin this breaft itrike home, and pierce him there. 
 
 Msrc. Imperious woman ! thou defy'il my pow'r, 
 And let it crufh thee. If thy country bleeds 
 In ev'ry vein ; if perjur'd Edwin falls, 
 As r oon he Pnall, a victim to my rage ; 
 Thou art the murd'rer ; thou the parricide : 
 I ftand abiblv'd ; the guilt is all thy own. 
 
 Mali!. If it be guilt to fuffer keen reproach, 
 Pain, perfecution, terror, chains and death 
 For him I love, rather than ftain my foul 
 With foul difloyalty, 1 am indeed 
 The guiltieft of my fex, and well deferve 
 The pangs I feel. 
 
 More. , Thou'ft driv'n me to the pit 
 
 Of black defpair, and I will drag thee down 
 To (hare the dreadful ruin thou haft made. 
 
 Matt!. I know thy favage purpofe ; but remember, 
 The hour approaches when thou (halt repent 
 This bafe, unmanlv ti'mmph. William comes: 
 Hear that and tremble, thou unnat'ral brother; 
 Nor rocks, nor ca-. . m his vengeance; 
 
 Inglorious
 
 MATILDA. 49 
 
 Inglorious and unpitied, (halt thou fall, 
 And after ages (hall confign thy name 
 To endlefs fcorn, and infamy immortal . [Exit Matilda* 
 
 More. Inexorable judge! I ftand condemn'd, 
 And fhall await my doom but not alone 
 Or unreveng'd fhall Morcar fall henceforth 
 I bid adieu to love, and all his train 
 Of fond delufions Vengeance ! I am thine, 
 And thine alone : Thou daughter of defpair ! 
 Deftruftive goddefs ! come, pofTefs my foul 
 With all thy terrors Yes ; it fhall be fo. 
 A few fhort hours are all that niggard fate 
 Will deign to fpare me ; I'll employ 'em well, 
 For I will crowd into the narrow circle 
 A little age of mifery and horror. 
 Ha ! Siward here ! what brought thee hither r 
 
 Enter SIWARD.- 
 
 Sito. Pi:y 
 
 For the diftrefs'd, I knew thou wert unhappy, 
 And came where duty call'd, to pour the balm 
 Of friendfhip in, and heal thy wounded heart. 
 
 More . O, they have pisrc'd too deep ; e/n thou, my 
 Thou haft betray'd me : was it not unkind (friend, 
 To fet my pris'ner free ; to let him meet 
 Matilda, and confpire againft my life ? 
 
 &'w. Impoffible ! by heav'n the artful ftory 
 He told, fo wrought upon my eafy foul, 
 I thought him innocent. 
 
 More. Haft thou not heard- 
 
 Sinv. From Harold only an imperfeft tale, 
 So ftrange I cou'd not credit it. 
 
 More. Alas ! 
 
 'Tis all too true : I am the verieft Have, 
 
 Tfc*
 
 50 MATILDA. 
 
 The meaneft wretch that e'er was trampled on 
 By an imperious woman : O, my friend ! 
 My Siward ! I have nought on earth but thee : 
 Shou'd'ft thou fbrfake me in this hour -of terror ! 
 But lure thou wilt not. 
 
 &''. ' ' No : Whate'er the will 
 
 Of wayward fortune may determine for us, 
 Behold me ready to partake thy rate. 
 If we inuft fue for peace, let Siward bear 
 The olive for thee : if once more we caft 
 The defp'rate dye of battle, let me perim 
 By Morcar's fide. Come, let us on together ; 
 Shake off this load of unavailing forrow, 
 And feek the field ; there, if we fall, we fall 
 With honour : if we rife, we rife to glory. 
 
 More. Talk not of glory to a wretch like me, 
 Bereft of ev'ry hope. There was a time 
 When that enliv'ning call wou'd have awak'd 
 My active ipirit, and this drooping heart 
 Bounded with joy j but my Matilda's loft : 
 
 Revenge alone . 
 
 (Enter a mefienger to Siward with letters. 
 
 Siw. From Walflcoff thefe; 
 
 'Tis well retire. [Exif mej/enger, 
 
 (Reads} How's this ? then all is loll. 
 
 He writes me here, that William's fame in arms, 
 Spite of his cruel and oppreffive laws, 
 Hath rais'd him friends in ev'ry part : already 
 The northern rebels are difpers'd, and thoufands 
 Flock to the royal ftanaavd. To refill- 
 Were madnefs. 
 
 More. And to yield were cowardice 
 
 More lhameful 
 
 Sin: What muft we refglve on ? 
 
 Merc,
 
 M A T I .L D A. 51 
 
 Marc. Death: 
 
 The wretches only hope, the wifh'd-for end 
 Of ev'ry care, but I wou'd meet him cloath'd 
 In all his terrors, with his reeking fpear, 
 Dipt in the blood of an ungrateful miftrefsj 
 And a falfe happy rival ; then, my Siward, 
 Shalt thou behold me welcome the kind ftroke, 
 And fmile in agony. 
 
 Sito. Unhappy youth ? 
 
 The ftorm beats hard upon thee ; but our fate 
 Will foon bt fixt, for William comes to-morrow. ^ 
 
 More. To-morrow ! ha ! then fomelhing mull be done, , 
 And quickly too. If William comes, he comes 
 To triumph over us : then,- my Siward, who 
 Shall punim Edwin ? \vho- mall wed Matilda ? 
 I cannot bear it If thou lov'lt me, Siward ; 
 For now I mean to try thy virtue ; fwear 
 By all the pow'rs that wait on injut'd honour, ' ' 
 What e'er my anxious foul requdb of thee, 
 Thou'lt not refufe it. ' 
 
 Sito. By the hallow'd flame- - 
 
 Of facred friendfiiip, that within this breaft, 
 Since the firft hour I feal'd thee for my own, 
 With unremitted ardor ftill hath glow'd, 
 I will not Speak, my Morcar, here I fwear 
 To aid thy purpofe. 
 
 More. 'Tis enough ; and now 
 
 Come near and mark me: Thou cominand'll the towV 
 Where Edwin is confin'd. 
 Siw. I do. 
 
 More. Methinks 
 
 It were an eafy tafk you undcrfland me 
 
 Juftice is flow, and William comes to-uiorro\v. 
 
 Thy friendly hand 
 
 Siw, My lord .'-- <
 
 52 MATILDA. 
 
 More. Thou trembl'lt- Well another time, my Siward, 
 We'll talk on't fhall we not? Thou mean'ft to do 
 As thou haft promis'd? 
 
 Si-iv. Certainly, 
 
 More. Then fpeak, 
 
 And do not trifle with me. 
 
 Siw. Sure, my lord, 
 
 Yon cannot mean to 
 
 More. Is he not a villain ? 
 
 Siw. I fear he may be fo. 
 
 More. A hypocrite ? 
 
 Siiv. He hath, perhaps, deceiv'd you, and defences 
 . More. To perilh. 
 
 Siw. No; t fuffer, not to die ; 
 
 Or, if to perifti, not by Morcar's hand, 
 Or Siward's O ! 'tis horrible to flied 
 A brother's blood - 
 
 More. r A rival's. 
 
 Siw. Nature 
 
 More. Love 
 
 Siva: Humanity- 
 
 More. Matilda 
 
 Siw. (fifide^) Gracious heav'n i 
 
 That paffion thus mould root up ev'ry fenfe 
 Of good and evil in the heart of man, 
 And change him to a Monfler. 
 
 More . Hence ! away, 
 And leave me From this moment I will herd 
 With the wild favage in yon leaflefs defart, 
 Nor truil to friendfhip but another hand 
 
 Siw. fmufmg.) Ha! that alarms me then it muft be 
 And yet how far (fo ; 
 
 More. You paufe. 
 
 Siw. I am refolv'd. 
 
 More, On what?
 
 MATILDA. 53 
 
 Size* To ferve, to honour, to obey you. 
 
 Edwin (hall ne'er difturb thy peace again. 
 
 More. O glorious inftance of exalted friendfhip! 
 
 My other felf, my belt, my dear-lcv'd Siward 
 
 Confcience ! thou bufy monitor, away 
 
 And leave me Siward, when mall it be done ? 
 
 To night, my Siward, ftiall it not ? 
 
 Situ. Or never. 
 
 More. Let me but fee the proud Matilda weep; 
 Let me but hear the mufic of her groans 
 And fate my foul with vengeance For the reft 
 'Tis equal all. But tell me, Siward, fay, 
 How fhall I know the bloody moment ? What, 
 Shall be the welcome fignal ? 
 
 Si<w. When thouheai^ft 
 
 The folemn curfeu found, conclude 
 The bufinefs done Farewel. When I return 
 
 With tears of joy thou (halt my zeal commend, 
 
 And own that Siward was indeed thy friend. 
 
 The End of the Fourth Atl. 
 
 ACT
 
 MATILDA. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE, A Gothic Hall. 
 
 MORCAR, HAROLD. 
 
 Mo R CAR. 
 
 JL REASON and foul rebellion in my camp ! 
 But I was born to be for ever wretched, 
 The fport of fortune. Thefe bale mutineers -- 
 
 Har. Your prefence on the battlements, my lord, 
 Difpers'd 'em foon ; they hang their heads in filenee, 
 And all is peace. 
 
 MORCAR, (to bimfelf.) 
 
 Jt is not fo within. . 
 Wow'd it were done or 
 
 Har. What, my Lord? 
 
 More. No matter. 
 
 What urg'd my foldiers to rebel ? 
 
 Har. 'Tis thought 
 
 The gallant captive did by fecrct means 
 Excite them to revolt. 
 
 Mire. It mu ft be fo. 
 
 By heav'n thou mak'ft me happy with the tidings : 
 His head mall pay the forfeit. 
 
 Har. Whilft he lives 
 
 We are not fafe. 
 
 More. No wore we are, good Harold ; 
 
 Tis fit he perifli, is it not ? What fay'ft thou ? 
 " Har. Prudence demands his lite to fave your own, 
 
 More.
 
 MATILDA. 55 
 
 More. O ! thou haft given fuch comfort to my foul 
 
 Har. My Lord 
 
 More. Be watchful : Bring me early notice 
 
 Of ev'ry motion : Go. (Exit Har. 
 
 Or I muft fall, 
 
 Or Edwin Hence, ye vifiorwry fears ; 
 Ye vain chimeras, hence It is no matter : 
 Confcience, I heed thee not ; 'tis felf-defence, 
 Nature's firft law, and I muft ftand acquitted. 
 The prudent Si ward feem'd to hefitate, 
 As if he wim'd, but knew not how to fhun 
 The office. He who cou'd behold my tortures, 
 With all that cold tranquillity, wou'd ne'er ' 
 Have ventur'd to remove them. But I've trufted 
 The fword of vengeance to a fafer hand. 
 What ho f Who waits ? 
 
 Enter an OFFICER. 
 That foldier whom thou faw'ft 
 In private conf'rence with me, is he gone 
 As I directed him ? 
 
 Ojfic. My Lord, even now 
 
 I faw him haft'ning tow'rd the tow'r. 
 
 More. Tis well. 
 
 When he returns conduct him to me Stay ; 
 If Siward comes this way, I'm not at leifure": 
 I will not fee him. (Jlarts.} Hark ! did'ft thou not hear 
 The folemn curfeu ? 
 
 Offif. No, my Lord. 
 
 More. Not hear it! 
 
 It {hocks my foul with horror Hark ! again ! 
 Hollow and dreadful .' Sure thy faculties 
 Are all benumb'd. 
 
 Offic. Indeed, I heard it not. 
 
 Mere. Away, and leave me to myfelf, (Exit Qffic. 
 
 Methought
 
 $6 MATILDA. 
 
 Methought 
 
 I heard a voice cry flop it is thy brother : 
 We lov'd each other well ; our earjy years 
 Were fpent in mutual happinefs together: 
 Matilda was not there I do remember 
 One day, in fportive mood, I rafhly plung'd 
 Into the rapid flood, which had well nigh 
 O'erwhelm'd me ; when the brave, the gallant Edwin, 
 Rufh'd in and fav'd me Shall I, in return, 
 Deftroy my kind preferver ? Horrid thought ! 
 Forbid it, heav'n! (paufes) I am myfelf again. 
 All pow'rful natuie ! once more I am thine. 
 He mail not die Who's there 
 
 Enter ^OFFICER. 
 
 MyOfwald! fly, 
 
 Fly to the tow'r this moment, hafte and fave 
 My brother Some bale ruffian 
 
 Offic. If, my Lord, 
 You mean the noble pris'ner there, I fear 
 It is too late : This moment as I pafs'd 
 The citadel, I faw a mangled corfe 
 Drawn forth by Si ward's order 
 
 More. Slave, thou ly'ft. 
 
 Away this moment, bring me better news 
 On peril of thy life. [Exit Offic. 
 
 Who knows but heav'n, 
 In gracious pity, ftill may interpofe 
 And fave me from the guilt ? It is not done ; 
 
 \tjball not mujl not be All's quiet yet ; 
 
 I have not heard the fignal. (The bell tolls'. 
 
 Hark ! he's dead : 
 
 My brother's dead O ! cover mej ye fhades 
 Of everlalHng night ! Hid , if ye can, 
 A murth'rer from himfelf Ha ! fee he comes : 
 
 His
 
 MATILDA. 57 
 
 His wounds are Weeding ftill ; his angry eyes 
 
 Glare full upo,Tme. Speak what wou'd'ft thou have ? 
 
 Matilda mall be thine : He frniles and leave me 
 
 (~he paufes and recovers bimfelf. 
 'Twas but the error of my troubled foul. 
 
 ! guilt, guilt, guilt ! (throws bimfelf doiua. 
 
 Here will I lay me down, 
 And end my days in bitternefs and anguifh. 
 
 Enter SIWARD. 
 Who's theie ? Ka) Si ward here. (rij'ts.) 
 
 Speak, murth'rer, fpeak, 
 
 Where is my brother ? Villain, thou hail fnar'd 
 My foul ; my honour's ftain'd, my fame deftroy'd, 
 And my fweet p-.act of mind is loft for ever. 
 &'w. Matilda will reftore it. 
 More. Never, never. 
 
 The price of blood ! .No : Cou'd Matilda bring 
 The vanquifh'd world, in dovv'ry with her charms, 
 
 1 wou'd not wed her. O ! cou'd I recal 
 One hafty moment, 0;;c rafii, cruel aft 
 But 'twas thy favage hand that 
 
 Situ. I recdv'd 
 
 Your orders : 'Twas my duty to obey them. 
 
 More. Where flept thy friendmip then ? Thou 
 know'ft dcfpair 
 
 And madnefs urg'd me to it but for thee- 
 
 Thy callous heart had never felt the pangs, 
 
 The agonies of difappointtd love ; 
 
 Thoudid'ft not know Matilda Curs'd obedience.! 
 
 How often has thy infolence oppos'd 
 
 Thy mafter and thy prince ? how often dar'd 
 
 To thwart fry will, and execute thy own : 
 
 But v.hen I bade thee do a deed of horror, 
 
 And flied a brother's blood thou cou'd'ilobey me. 
 
 Siro. Away ! this is the trick of felf-dclufion, 
 
 The
 
 58 MATILDA. 
 
 The common cant of hypocrites, who rail 
 
 At others guilt, to mitigate their ov/n ? 
 
 I've been the mean, the fervile infarument 
 
 Of thy bafe vengeance ; but thou had'ft preparW 
 
 Another, a low ruffian, to perform 
 
 The bloody office ; I deteft thec for it, 
 
 Defpife, abhor thee. 
 
 More. Thou wert once my friend. 
 
 Siw. Henceforth I am thy foe Thou haft deftroy'd 
 The beft of brothers, and the beft of men. 
 
 More, Defpis'd by Siward then my cup of fbrro'w 
 
 Is full, indeed But this mail '- 
 
 (Attempts to kill hi mf elf, Siwardwrejis the fivord from Urn* 
 
 Ha ! difarm'd ! 
 
 But coward guilt is weak as infancy ; 
 It was not fo before I murder'd Edwin. 
 
 Si<w. The murd'rer's pumfhment fhou'd be to live, 
 And fhall be thine ; thou know'ft not half thy guilt 
 Nor half thy forrows : I mall rend thy foul. 
 Prepare thee for another deeper wound ; 
 And know that Edwin lov'd thee, in his hand, 
 Whilft mine was lifted up for his deftruclion, 
 I found this paper, 'tis the counterpart 
 Of one he had difpatch'd to William, read it 
 And tremble at thy complicated guilt. 
 
 Mo R C A R , (taking the paper ) 
 What's here ? He pleads my pardon with the king, 
 Afcribes my frantic zeal, in Edgar's caufe, 
 To i!l-advis'd warmth, and recommends 
 His murderer to mercy : Horrid thought ! 
 I am the vileft, moft abandon'd flave 
 That e'er difgrac'd humanity O, Siward? 
 If thou haft yet, among the dying embers 
 Of our long friend fhip, one remaining fpark 
 Of kind companion for the wretched Morcar, 
 
 Lend
 
 MATILDA. 59 
 
 Lend me thy aid to (hake off the fad load 
 Of hated life that prefles fore upon me. 
 
 $'?<;. Tho' thou'rt no longer worthy of my friend/hip, 
 Deaf to the cries of nature, and the voice 
 Of holy truth, that wou'd have council'd thee 
 To better deeds, yet hath my foolifh heart 
 Some pity for thee After crimes like thefe, 
 There is but one way left Say, wilt thou patient wait 
 Till I return ? 
 
 More. I will. 
 
 Siw. Remember, Morcar, 
 
 You promis'd me I have a draught within, 
 Of wondrous pow'r, that in a moment lulls 
 The tortur'd foul to fweet forgetfulnefs 
 Of all its woes : I'll haiie and bring it thee, 
 'Twill give thee reft and peace. [Exit Siward. 
 
 More. I hope for ever. 
 
 But where's the loft Matilda ? who mall comfort 
 That dear unhappy maid, whom I have robb'd 
 Of ev'ry blifs. O, fave me from the fight, 
 Ye pitying pow'rs ! 
 
 Enter MATILDA. 
 
 She comes diffraction ! 
 Until. O ! 
 
 My lord, permit 
 
 More. Away I know thee not. 
 
 Matil. Not know me ! 'tis the poor diftrefs'd Matilda, 
 Who comes to aik forgivenefs for the rage 
 Of frantic love ; the madnefs of defpair, 
 That urg'd me to fuch wrath and bitternefs 
 Of keen reproach; but pardon (kneels.) 
 
 Gen'rous Morcar, 
 
 A woman's weaknefs: Speak and make me bleft. 
 Alas ! he hears me not. 
 
 More. Matilda, rife ; 
 
 I pray thee leave me (weeps.) 
 
 Matil
 
 60 MATILDA. 
 
 Matil. Gracious heav'n ! he weeps ; 
 
 Propitious omen! O, my lord ! thofe tears 
 Are the foft marks of fympithizing woe, 
 And feem to fay, I fhall not plead in vain. 
 
 More. Aflc what thou wilr, for know, fo dear I hold 
 Matilda's happinefs, that, here I fwear, 
 ff all the kingdoms of the peopled earth 
 Were mine to give, I'd lay them at her feet : 
 But much I fear they wou'd not make her happy. 
 
 Matil. Alas f my lord, Matilda's hap : n tfs . 
 Is centered all in one dear precious jev 
 'Tis in tbj keeping Edwin 
 
 More. What of him ? 
 
 Matil. Is innocent. 
 
 More. I know it. 
 
 Matil. Juft and good; 
 
 He never meant to injure thee, indeed 
 He did not. 
 
 More. I believe ir, for his nature 
 
 Was ever mild and gentle. 
 
 Matil. * Good, my l:>rd, 
 
 You mock me. 
 
 Merc. No, Matilda; fpeak, go on, 
 And praife him : I cou'd talk to thee for ever 
 Of Edwin's virtue; 
 
 Matil. Then thou wou'd'H not hurt 
 His precious life, thou wou'd'ft not- 
 
 Marc. I wou'd give 
 
 A thoqfand worlds to fave him. 
 
 Matil. Wou'd'ft thou ? then 
 
 My pray'rs are heard, thou haft forgiv'n all, 
 And I am happy. Speak, is Edwin free? 
 
 More. From ev'ry care wou'd I were half fo bleft ! 
 
 Matil What mean you r Ha ! thy eyes are fixt with 
 
 horror, 
 
 Thy looks are wild. What haft thou done ? O ! fpeak. 
 
 More.
 
 MATILDA. 61 
 
 More. Matilda, if thou com'ft for Edwin's life, 
 It is too late for Edwin is no more. 
 Matil. And is my Edwin flain ? 
 More. Aye : Bafely murdev'd. 
 
 ! 'twas the vileft, mod unnai'ral deed 
 That e'er 
 
 Matil. Blafted be the cruel hand 
 
 That oealt the blow [ O, may his guilty heart 
 Ne'er tafte of balmy peace, or fweet repofe ! 
 
 More. But ever, by the vulture conference, torn j 
 Bleed inward, Hill unpity'd, till he feek 
 For refuge in the grave. 
 
 Matil. Nor find it there. 
 
 More. 'Tis \vell : Thy curfes are accomplifli'd all ; 
 
 1 feel 'em here within for know-. -'twas I. 
 I gave the fatal order, and iny friend, 
 
 My Sivvard, has too faithfully perfoim'du. 
 
 Matil. Siward! impoflible ! There dwells not then 
 In human breaft, or truth or virtue O ! 
 Unnat'ral brother 1 but I will be calm. 
 
 More. Alas f thy fate is happinefs to mine ; 
 For thou art innocent. "^ 
 
 More. And foon, I hope, 
 
 To be rewarded for it. O ! my Edwin, 
 Matilda foon mail follow thee thou think'lt 
 I am unarm'd, deferted; doom'd like thee 
 To hated life j but know, I have a friend, 
 A bofom-friend, and prompt, as thine, to enter 
 On any bloody fa-vice I command. (Draws a dagger. 
 
 Merc. Command it then for jultice, for revenge, 
 Behold ! my bofom rifes to the blow ; 
 Strike here, and end a wretched murd'rer 
 
 Matil. No j 
 
 That were a mercy thou haft not deferv'd j 
 1 fhall not feek revenge in Morcar's death, 
 
 In mine thou fhalt be wretched 
 
 (Attempts tojlab b(rjelf\ Mercer lay t hold of tbe dagger. 
 
 Mm.
 
 6z MATILDA 
 
 Mom Stop, Matilda 
 
 Stop thy rafh hand, the weight of Edwin's blood 
 Sits heavy on my heart. O .' do not pierce it 
 With added guilt. 
 
 Matil. No more, I muft be gone 
 
 To meet my Edwin, who already chides 
 My ling'ring fteps, and beckons me away. 
 
 More , Yet hear me ! O ! if penitence and pray'r, 
 If deep contrition, forrow and remorfe 
 Ccu'd bring him back to thy defiring eyes, 
 O ! with what rapture wou'd I yield him now 
 To thee, Matilda bear me \vitnefs---Ha! (Jlarts,) 
 'Tis he- Look up, dear injur'd maid he comes 
 To chiim my promife. 
 
 Matil. It is, it is my Edwin! 
 
 (Enter Sizvard and Edwin : Edwin rum and 
 
 embraces Matilda. 
 
 More. O unexpected blifs! what gracious hand 
 Site. Behold the cordial draught I promis'd you ! 
 I knew thy noble nature, when the ftorm 
 Of paflion had fubfided, wou'd abhor 
 A deed fo impious- 'Tis the only time 
 That Siward ever did deceive his friend. 
 Can'ft thou forgive ? 
 
 More. Forgive thee ! O thou art 
 
 My guardian angel, fent by gracious heav'n 
 To fave me from perdition. O, my brother! 
 I blufh to ftand before thee vvih thou take 
 From thefe polluted hands one precious gift? 
 " 'Twill make thee full amends for all thy wrongs. 
 Accept her, and be happy. 
 
 (He joins the bands of Edwin and Matilda, then turning 
 
 to. Siward) 
 That vile flave 
 Whom I ernploy'd ~ 5r,
 
 M A T I L I) -A. 63 
 
 Siw. I guefs'd his horrid purpoie, 
 Watch'd ev'ry ftep, and as the villain aim'd 
 His ponyard at the guihlefs Edwin's breaft, 
 Tuin'd ibdden round, and plung'd it in his own. 
 The bloody corfe was dragg'd 
 
 More. 1 know the reft. 
 
 O, Si'.vard ! from what weight of endlsis woe 
 Hath thy bleft hand preferv'd me! 
 
 Edw. O, my Matilda! how mall we repay 
 Our noble benefa&or ? Much f owe 
 To gallant Siward, but to Morcar more : 
 Thou gav'ft me life, but my kind, gen'rous brother 
 Enhanc'd the gift, and blefs'd me with Matilda. 
 
 Matil. (to More.) Words are too poor to thank thee as 
 Accept this tribute of a grateful heart, (I ought; 
 
 Thefe tears of joy; and, O! may ev'ry curfe 
 My frantic grief for Edwin pour'd upon thee, 
 Be chang'd to deareft bleflings on thy head ! 
 
 More. Alas ! thy bleliings cannot reach me. Guilt 
 May plead for pardon, but can never bcail 
 A claim to happinefs : I only alk 
 A late forgivenefs. If a life. of forrovv, 
 And deep remorfe, can wafh my crimes away, 
 Let 'em. be bury'd with me in oblivion, 
 And do not curfe the memory of Morcar. 
 
 (turning to Edwin. 
 
 "O, Edwin ! fay, can'ft thou forgive the crime 
 Of frantic love, of madnefs and defpair ? 
 
 Edw. As in my lateft hour from heav'n I hope 
 Its kind indulgence for my errors part, 
 Ev'n fo, my brother, from my foul I pardon 
 And pity thee. 
 
 More. Then I mail die in peace. 
 
 Edw. Talk not of death, my brother, thou muft live 
 To fee our happinefs complete, to hear 
 
 My
 
 
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