Above what once thou wast, some few do rise;
None above what thou art.
Bland. It shall be so.
M'Donald. It is so.
Bland. Then to prove it.
For I must yet a trial undergo,
That will require a consciousness of virtue. (Exit.)
M'Donald. O, what a temper doth in man reside!
How capable of yet unthought perfection!
Scene, the General's quarters.
(Enter General and Seward.)
General. Ask her, my friend, to send by thee her pacquets.
(Exit Seward.)
O, what keen struggles must I undergo!
Unbless'd estate! to have the power to pardon;
The court's stern sentence to remit;—give life;—
Feel the strong wish to use such blessed power;
Yet know that circumstances strong as fate
Forbid to obey the impulse. O, I feel
That man should never shed the blood of man!
(Enter Seward.)
Seward. Naught can the lovely suitor satisfy,
But conference with thee, and much I fear
Refusal would cause madness.
General. Yet to admit,
To hear, be tortur'd, and refuse at last—
Seward. Sure never man such spectacle of sorrow
Saw before. Motionless the rough-hewn soldiers
Silent view her, or walk aside and weep.
General. (After a pause.) Admit her.
(Seward goes out.) O, for the art, the precious art,
To reconcile the sufferer to his sorrows!
(Honora rushes in, and throws herself wildly on her knees before him; he endeavors to raise her.)
Honora. Nay, nay, here is my place, or here, or lower,
Unless thou grant'st his life. All forms away!
Thus will I clasp thy knees, thus cling to thee—
I am his wife—'t is I have ruin'd him—
O, save him! Give him to me! Let us cross
The mighty seas, far, far—ne'er to offend again—
(The General turns away, and hides his eyes with his hand.)
(Enter Seward and an Officer.)
General. Seward, support her; my heart is torn in twain.
(Honora, as if exhausted, suffers herself to be raised, and leans on Seward.)
Officer. This moment, sir, a messenger arrived
With well confirm'd and mournful information,
That gallant Hastings, by the lawless scouts
Of Britain taken, after cruel mockery
With show of trial and of condemnation,
On the next tree was hung.
Honora. (Wildly.) O, it is false.
General. Why, why, my country, did I hesitate? (Exit.)
(Honora sinks, faints, and is borne off by Seward and Officer.)
Scene, the Prison.
(André meeting Bland.)
André. How speeds Honora? (Pause.) Art thou silent, Bland?
Why, then, I know my task. The mind of man,
If not by vice debas'd, debilitated,
Or by disease of body quite unton'd,
Hath o'er its thoughts a power—energy divine.
Of fortitude the source and every virtue—
A godlike power, which e'en o'er circumstance
Its sov'reignty exerts. Now from my thoughts,
Honora! Yet she is left alone—expos'd—
Bland. O, André, spurn me, strike me to the earth;
For what a wretch am I in André's mind.
That he can think he leaves his love alone,
And I retaining life!
André. Forgive me. Bland.
