Yielded protection and lov'd fellowship.—
Indeed, when I did hear of thy estate,
It almost kill'd me;—I was weak before—
André. 'T is I have murder'd thee!
Honora. All shall be well.
Thy General heard of me, and instant form'd
The plan of this my visit. I am strong,
Compar'd with what I was. Hope strengthens me;
Nay, even solicitude supports me now;
And when thou shalt be safe, thou wilt support me.
André. Support thee!—O Heaven! What!— and must I die?
Die!—and leave her thus—suffering—unprotected!
(Enter Melville and Guard.)
Melville. I am sorry that my duty should require
Service, at which my heart revolts; but, sir,
Our soldiers wait in arms. All is prepar'd—
Honora. To death! Impossible! Has my delay,
Then, murder'd him? A momentary respite—
Melville. Lady, I have no power.
Bland. Melville, my friend,
This lady bears dispatches of high import,
Touching this business;—should they arrive too late—
Honora. For pity's sake, and heaven's, conduct me to him;
And wait the issue of our conference.
O, 't would be murder of the blackest dye.
Sin execrable, not to break thy orders—
Inhuman, thou art not.
Melville. Lady, thou say'st true;
For rather would I lose my rank in arms,
And stand cashier'd for lack of discipline,
Than gain 'mongst military men all praise,
Wanting the touch of sweet humanity.
Honora. Thou grantest my request?
Melville. Lady, I do.
Retire! (Soldiers go out.)
Bland. I know not what excuse, to martial men,
Thou canst advance for this; but to thy heart
Thou wilt need none, good Melville.
André. O Honora!
Honora. Cheer up, I feel assur'd. Hope wings my flight,
To bring thee tidings of much joy to come.
(Exit Honora, with Bland and Melville. )
André. Eternal blessings on thee, matchless woman!—
If Death now comes, he finds the veriest coward
That e'er he dealt withal. I cannot think
Of dying. Void of fortitude, each thought
Clings to the world—the world that holds
Honora! (Exit.)
END OF THE FOURTH ACT.
ACT FIFTH.
Scene, the Encampment.
(Enter Bland.)
Bland. Suspence—uncertainty—man's bane and solace!
How racking now to me! My mother comes.
Forgive me, O my father, if in this war,
This wasting conflict of my 'wildering passions,
Memory of thee holds here a second place!
M'Donald comes with her. I would not meet him;
Yet I will do it. Summon up some courage—
Confess my fault, and gain, if not his love,
At least the approbation of my judgment.
(Enter Mrs. Bland and Children, with M'Donald.)
Bland. Say, Madam, is there no change of counsel,
Or new determination?
Mrs, Bland. Nought new, my son.
The tale of misery is told unheard.
The widow's and the orphans' sighs
Fly up, unnoted by the eye of man,
And mingle, undistinguish'd, with the winds.
My friend (to M'Donald), attend thy duties. I must away.
Second Child. You need not cry, Mama, the General will do it, I am sure, for I saw him cry. He turn'd away his head from you, but I saw it.
