SCENE II.
Hyde Park.
Enter Lord Gayville impetuously, looking at his Watch.
Lord G. Not here! I am sure I marked the hour as well as the place, precisely in my note. [Walks about.] Had I been told three days ago, that I should have been the appellant in a premeditated duel, I should have thought it an insult upon my principles—That Clifford should be the cause of my transgressing the legal and sacred duties, we have ever both maintained—oh, it would have seemed a visionary impossibility—But he comes, to cut reflections short—
Enter Clifford.
Lord G. I waited for you, sir.
Cliff. [Bows in Silence.]
Lord G. That ceremonial would grace an encounter of punctilio, but applies ill to the terms upon which I have called you here.
Cliff. What terms are those, my lord?
Lord G. Vengeance! Ample, final vengeance! Draw, sir.
Cliff. No, my lord; my sword is reserved for more becoming purposes: It is not the instrument of passion; and has yet been untried in a dispute with my friend.
Lord G. But why is it not ready for a different trial, the vindication of perfidy, the blackest species of perfidy, that ever the malignant enemy of mankind infused into the human breast—perfidy to the friend who loved and trusted you, and in the nearest interests of his heart.
Cliff. Take care, my lord; should my blood boil like yours, and it is rising fast, you know not the punishment that awaits you. I came temperate, your gross provocation and thirst of blood make temperance appear disgrace—I am tempted to take a revenge—
Lord G. [Draws.] The means are ready. Come, sir, you are to give an example of qualities generally held incompatible—bravery and dishonour.
Cliff. Another such a word, and by Heaven!—How have I deserved this opinion?
Lord G. Ask your conscience—Under the mask of friendship you have held a secret intercourse with the woman I adore; you have supplanted me in her affections, you have robbed me of the very charm of my life—can you deny it?
Cliff. I avow it all.
Lord G. Unparalleled insolence of guilt!
Cliff. Are you sure there is nothing within the scope of possibility that would excuse or atone—
Lord G. Death—Death only—no abject submission—no compromise for infamy—chuse instantly—and save yourself from the only stretch of baseness left—the invention of falsehood to palliate.—
Cliff. [In the utmost Agitation, and drawing his Sword.] Falsehood!—You shall have no other explanation.—[After a Struggle within himself, Clifford drops the Point, and exposes his Breast.]
Lord G. Stand upon your defence, sir—What do you mean?
Cliff. You said nothing but my life would satisfy you, take it, and remember me.
Lord G. I say so still—but upon an equal pledge—I am no assassin.
Cliff. [With great Emotion.] If to strike at the heart of your friend, more deeply than that poor instrument in your hand could do, makes an assassin, you have been one already.
Lord G. That look, that tone, how like to innocence! Had he not avowed such abominable practices—
Cliff. I avow them again: I have rivalled you in the love of the woman you adore—her affections are riveted to me. I have removed her from your sight; secured her from your recovery—
Lord G. Damnation!
Cliff. I have done it to save unguarded beauty; to save unprotected innocence; to save—a sister.
Lord G. A sister!
Cliff. [With Exultation.] Vengeance! Ample, final vengeance! [A Pause.] It is accomplished—over him—and over myself—my victory is complete.
Lord G. Where shall I hide my shame!
Cliff. We'll share it, and forget it here.
[Embraces.
Lord G. Why did you keep the secret from me?
Cliff. I knew it not myself, till the strange concurrence of circumstances, to which you were in part witness a few hours since, brought it to light. I meant to impart to you the discovery, when my temper took fire—Let us bury our mutual errors in the thought, that we now for life are friends.
Lord G. Brothers, Clifford—Let us interchange that title, and doubly, doubly ratify it. Unite me to your charming sister; accept the hand of Lady Emily in return—her heart I have discovered to be yours——We'll leave the world to the sordid and the tasteless; let an Alscrip, or a Sir Clement Flint, wander after the phantom of happiness, we shall find her real retreat, and hold her by the bonds she covets, virtue, love, and friendship.
Cliff. Not a word more, my lord, the bars against your proposal are insuperable.
Lord G. What bars?
Cliff. Honour! Propriety—and pride.
Lord G. Pride, Clifford!
Cliff. Yes, my lord; Harriet Clifford shall not steal the hand of a prince; nor will I—though doting on Lady Emily with a passion like your own, bear the idea of a clandestine union in a family, to whom I am bound by obligation and trust. Indeed, my lord, without Sir Clement's consent, you must think no more of my sister.
Lord G. Stern stoic, but I will, and not clandestinely; I'll instantly to Sir Clement.
Cliff. Do not be rash; Fortune, or some better agent, is working in wonders—Meet me presently at your uncle's; in the mean while promise not to stir in this business.
Lord G. What hope from delay?
Cliff. Promise—
Lord G. I am in a state to catch at shadows——I'll try to obey you.
Cliff. Farewell!——
[Exeunt.