Enter Albert in the woods.
How full of sweet content had this life been,
If it had been embraced but before
My burthenous conscience was so fraught with sin!
But now my griefs o'ersway that happiness.
O, that some lecher or accurs'd betrayer
Of sacred friendship might but here arrive,
And read the lines repentant on each tree
That I have carv'd t' express my misery!
My admonitions now would sure convert
The sinful'st creature; I could tell them now,
How idly vain those humans spend their lives
That daily grieve, not for offences pass'd,
But to enjoy some wanton's company;
Which when obtain'd, what is it but a blot,
Which their whole life's repentance scarce can clear?
I could now tell to friend-betraying man,
How black a sin is hateful treachery,
How heavy on their wretched souls 'twill sit,
When fearful death will plant his siege but near them,
How heavy and affrighted will their end
Seem to approach them, as if then they knew
The full beginning of their endless woe
Were then appointed; which astonishment,
O blest repentance, keep me Albert from!
And suffer not despair to overwhelm,
And make a shipwreck of my heavy soul.
Enter Maria, like a page.
Who's here? a page? what black disastrous fate
Can be so cruel to his pleasing youth?
Maria. So now, Maria, here thou must forego
What nature lent thee to repay to death!
Famine, I thank thee, I have found thee kindest;
Thou sett'st a period to my misery.
[Faints.
Alb. It is Maria, that fair innocent,
Whom my abhorred lust hath brought to this;
I'll go for sustenance: and, O ye powers!
If ever true repentance wan acceptance,
O, show it Albert now, and let him save
This[387] wronged beauty from untimely grave.
[Exit Albert.
Maria. Sure, something spake, or else my feebled sense
Hath lost the use of its due property;
Which is more likely, than that in this place
The voice of human creature should be heard.
This is far distant from the paths of men:
Nothing breathes here but wild and ravening beasts,
With airy monsters, whose shadowing wings do seem
To cast a veil of death on wicked livers;[388]
Which I live dreadless of, and every hour
Strive to meet death, who still unkind avoids me:
But that now gentle famine doth begin
For to give end to my calamities.
See, here is carv'd upon this tree's smooth bark
Lines knit in verse, a chance far unexpected!
Assist me, breath, a little to unfold
What they include.
The Writing.
I that have writ these lines am one, whose sin
Is more than grievous; for know, that I have been
A breaker of my faith with one, whose breast
Was all compos'd of truth: but I digress'd,
And fled th' embrace[389] of his dear friendship's love,
Clasping to falsehood, did a villain prove;
As thus shall be express'd. My worthy friend
Lov'd a fair beauty, who did condescend
In dearest affection to his virtuous will;
He then a night appointed to fulfil
Hymen's bless'd rites, and to convey away
His love's fair person, to which peerless prey
I was acquainted made, and when the hour
Of her escape drew on, then lust did pour
Enraged appetite through all my veins,
And base desires in me let loose the reins
To my licentious will: and that black night,
When my friend should have had his chaste delight,
I feign'd his presence, and (by her thought him),
Robb'd that fair virgin of her honour's gem:
For which most heinous crime upon each tree
I write this story, that men's eyes may see
None but a damn'd one would have done like me.
Is Albert then become so penitent,
As in these deserts to deplore his facts,
Which his unfeign'd repentance seems to clear?
How good man is when he laments his ill!
Who would not pardon now that man's misdeeds,
Whose griefs bewail them thus? could I now live,
I would remit thy fault with Carracus:
But death no longer will afford reprieve
Of my abundant woes: wrong'd Carracus, farewell;
Live, and forgive thy wrongs, for the repentance
Of him that caused them so deserves from thee;
And since my eyes do witness Albert's grief,
I pardon Albert, in my wrongs the chief.
Enter Albert, like a hermit.