Oh what a bloody wretch I am become, -- [He fills a goblet several times and drinks, then dashes the goblet to the floor. It tastes like blood! And wine will ever taste thus, so will water! The bread I eat will choke me! I am gone raging mad! SCENE X. I am mad! Come, thou shalt have these diamonds on thy neck Oh, sir, they were my mother's! If thou have .Albert. have a mother-but she would not The savage creatures are my kindred now! Is madness! I have done a deed of hell, SCENE XI. Night-Albert's cabin, a dim lamp is burning-Albert Enter the CAPTAIN. Albert. What shriek was that?-and where is Cap. Where plummet will not reach her! Cap. My hands are clean The deck-Albert holding a young female by the arm Albert. Thou say'st thy name is Angela-well- Thou shalt be now the angel of the ship! Upon the silent deck, meting out time As the clock's ticking;- still she stood, like death, Albert. And I the while was taking senseless sleep! They seized her in the darkness; - from their grasp Cap. I'll let them settle it as they like best. [He goes to an inner chamber. Thou hast brought misery on me! I am dyed Are we never to meet without these squabblings? SCENE XII. Night-tempest-thunder and lightning-the ship drives before the storm- Albert's cabin - Albert alone: Three days the storm has raged-nor is there yet SCENE XIII. The vessel floating without mast or rudder-famine on Albert. What miserable sound of mortal strife [He advances along the deck with difficulty; the seamen are eagerly stripping the body. Albert. My brethren in affliction, sin not thus; The murdered dead-she has made cause against us; Touch not that flesh, lest God abandon you! Pale ghastly faces, cresting the fierce waters, Keep in the vessel's wake as if in mockery! [He rushes to the door, the Captain meets him. Cap. I heard your voice, you have got company? Albert. Out of my way!- My blackest curse be on thee: I am a damned sinner through thy means! Mate. There is no bread! - there is no drop of If they reach any shore, I am undone! 31 SCENE XIV. Albert's city-two merchants on 'Change. 1st Mer. I've seen the men myself, and heard In number they are seven-a ghastly crew, 1st Mer. I know they had misgivings - for his Took to her bed in grief for his departure, 4th Mer. [coming up.] I would consult you on Their lips were black and shrivelled, and their jaws Of Albert Luberg - Were it not most right Hung like the stiffened jaws of a dead face. The semblance of a lie -'tis a calm story; 3rd Mer. [coming up.] Well sir, I've heard this And fresh particulars which you heard not. Of a most wholesome lesson, which will preach Is still stretched out to punish, let him strive To send a vessel out to meet with him? It were but right to follow him, for justice! 4th Mer. We are agreed then! Let us find a ship 1st Man. 2nd Man. Ah, poor Madame Luberg! [They all go off together. SCENE XV. Street-a crowd assembled. He was brought in this morning. 1st Man. No, but I saw the wreck he was taken [The crowd increases. 4th Man. Well, I've seen him-and I wish I had never set eyes on him! Oh, he's a bad man! he has a horrid look-and I remember him a proper young man, and the handsomest that went out of harbour! 5th Man. But he was dying of hunger when they picked him from the wreck-they say a child would outweigh him! poor fellow! 6th Man. Do you pity him, a bloody pirate! 5th Man. Oh but you havn't seen his face as I have! He is like a withered old man, and has such a look of misery! God help him! 1st Man. And what's to be done with him? 7th Man. "T is no more than he deserves! cape Who ever lived in blameless reputation! And then her niece, the gentle, orphaned Constance! [They disperse. SCENE XVI. A small, dark cell in a prison—Albert heavily ironed, is sealed upon straw; he is haggard and wild in appearance, with his eyes cast down as if stupified. The door slowly opens, and Constance, in deep mourning, enters; she seats herself on a bench near him, looks on him in silence and weeps; Albert slowly raises his head, and gazes at her for some time before he appears to recognise her. Glad, innocent spirits; when from the same prayerbook We made the same responses, and our eyes - Now death stares in my face. - a horrid death! Albert. I dare not speak the name, but is it thou? And heaven-oh, I ara damned! I have no hope! Cons. Oh Albert, Albert! Albert. Canst thou speak my name? Do ye not curse me, thou and my poor mother? [He bows his head to his knees, and weeps bitterly. Cons. [kneeling beside him.] Oh God! who art a father to the afflicted, Who art a fount of mercy-look on him! Albert. Thou angel of sweet mercy! woe is me! Cons. Thy mother! ask not, Albert, of thy mother. Albert. Ah, she does not forgive me! nor will God! Cons. Albert, thy mother's dead and her last words Were prayers for thee! Albert. Then I have killed my mother! Oh blood! blood, blood! will my poor soul be never Freed from the curse of blood! Cons. [taking his hand.] Albert, be calm, 'Twas by the will of God, that that dear saint Went to her blessed rest-I mourn her not I do rejoice in her eternal peace! Cons. Say not, dear Albert, that thou hast no Cons. to Albert. Now, now farewell! And may Almighty God look down and bless thee! Albert. [wildly] Farewell, farewell! we shall meet never more! Albert. [looking on the hand of Constance.] I dare It is a farewell for eternity! not press it to my longing lips — There is pollution on them-they have sworn To guide me o'er the waters! long ere this Cons. Albert, I fear thee not—I mourn for thee. I knew that thou hadst sinned, but I forgave thee! May God forgive thee, and support that maiden! Albert. Thou art not woman, Constance, thou art angel! Ah, there were days when we two sate together, [Constance, overcome by her feelings, is supported out by the chaplain. Achzib made his escape from the pirate-ship in some way which eluded all detection. He did not, however, think it expedient to enter again the seaport; and as all places were alike to him, with this exception, he resigned himself to chance, and took up his abode in the first considerable city he came to. He was so extravagantly elated with his success, that he carried himself with so self-satisfied an air as to attract the notice of every one. Some said he was newly come into possession of a great fortune, and that money, and the importance it gained for him, were so novel as to have turned his head; some said he was the little-great man of a small town, where his consequential airs were mistaken for marks life." of real greatness;-others said he was a travelling effectually as the higher motives of more vigorous doctor, who had just taken out a new patent :-while others took him for a marvellously wise philosopher, who, thinking of anything rather than himself, had acquired this ridiculous carriage in sheer absence of mind;-and others again, supposed him to be a poet, inflated with the success of a new poem. Achzib, in the meantime, thinking he had done, enough for the present, determined to have an interval of rest. He accordingly took a large house, fürnished it sumptuously, and began in reality to be looked upon as somebody. He did not, it is true, hold much intercourse with the citizens, though he was a most munificent patron of boxers, wrestlers, and all kind of prize-fighters and gamblers. He occasionally went on 'Change too, and circulated now and then some spurious lie or other; which, deranging all money business, while it made the fortunes of a few, was the ruin of many. He had considerable dealings also with the usurers; and keeping a pack of hounds and a noble stud of horses, found occupation enough both for day and night. To diversify his employments he dabbled in judicial astrology, and the favourite pursuits of the old alchemists. He repeatedly asserted that he had mixed the Elixir Vitæ, and also that he could compound the Philosopher's-stone. They who heard this, had an easy way of accounting for the money that he appeared always to have at command; but he himself well knew that every stiver was drawn from the bags of the usurer, though never destined to find their way back again. The life Achzib led, was much to his mind; he told lies with the most truthful face in the world, and cheated in so gentlemanly a style, that he might perhaps have maintained this life much longer, had he not been accidentally tempted to his fourth trial. He was on the Prada, or place of public resort, and seeing two grave persons in deep discourse together, and who seemed unconscious of all that surrounded them, he took a seat near, hoping to hear some secret worth knowing or telling. Their conversation, however, was entirely of a moral or religious nature; and Achzib would soon have been weary of it, had they not branched off to the subject of temptation, and the habits of mind which render a man peculiarly assailable by it. "For instance," said the one, "old age, if beset by temptation, could but inadequately resist it, for the mind becomes enfeebled with the body. Youth may be inexperienced and volatile; middle age engrossed by the world and its pursuits; but is it not the noble enthusiasm of the one, and the severe uprightness of the other which makes them often superior to their trials; and which of these does the weakness and despondency of old age possess?" "But," rejoined the other, "the passions have ceased to stimulate in old age. Ambition, love, and avarice, are the temptations of earlier life. Men do not become suddenly vicious in old age, for the habits of mind and body in men become part and parcel of themselves; and, if through life these have been regulated by principle, I say not religion, they will preserve age, if it were assailed by temptation, as "True," replied the first speaker, “if the trial came only through the medium of the passions; but though a man may have arrived at old age unpolluted by outward sins, yet the temper of his mind may be the very opposite of virtue. He may doubt the goodness of God, though his life has been one series of mercies; he may be obstinately uncheered by his love, and unawakened by his daily Providence. A murmuring, morbid doubting of God's goodness is the peculiar weakness of such a mindand the human being who can have passed through life, and at last retains such a spirit, is neither guiltless of sin, nor unassailable by temptation." But such a case," replied the other, "is extremely rare. Old age finds a natural aliment in religion; and as its ties to the earth are sundered, the very necessities of its nature unite it more closely with heaven." "Such a case," persisted his friend, “may be rare, but alas, it is not beyond the range of human experience; and the peculiar prayer of such a spirit should be, lead me not into temptation!'" "Oh, but," exclaimed the other, with holy enthusiasm, "God, who is boundless and long-suffering in mercy, and who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, will keep such feeble spirit from trial beyond his strength; or in his loving-kindness will extend the hand of his mercy to save him, even as the sinking apostle was sustained when his faith failed him upon the waters!" Achzib rose up before the conclusion of this last observation; taking great praise to himself that wise men, such as he, gathered up their advantage from even the casual conversation of two strangers. THE OLD MAN. OLD MAN. PERSONS. MARGARET, HIS DAUGHTER. UGOLIN, THE SUITOR OF MARGARET. SCENE I. A small house just without the gate of the city—an Old Man. Supported by Eternal Truth, Yon glorious sun looked not more bright, |