The Mysterious Mother/Act 3 Scene 2
SCENE II.
COUNTESS, ADELIZA.
COUNTESS.
Approach, sweet maid. Thy melancholy mien
Speaks thy compassionate and feeling heart.
'Tis a grave lesson for thy blooming years,
A scene of dissolution! But when Death
Expands his pinions o'er a bed so holy,
Sure he's a welcome guest.
Approach, sweet maid. Thy melancholy mien
Speaks thy compassionate and feeling heart.
'Tis a grave lesson for thy blooming years,
A scene of dissolution! But when Death
Expands his pinions o'er a bed so holy,
Sure he's a welcome guest.
ADELIZA.
Oh! do not doubt it,
The pious matron meets him like a friend
Expected long. And if a tender tear,
At leaving your poor ward, melts in her eye,
And downward sinks its fervent ecstacy;
Still does impatience to be gone, betray
Her inward satisfaction. Yesternight,
As weeping, praying, by her couch I knelt,
Behold, my Adeliza, mark, she said,
How happy the death-bed of innocence![1]
Oh! lady, how those sounds affected me!
I wish'd to die with her—and oh! forgive me,
If in that moment I forgot my patroness!
Oh! do not doubt it,
The pious matron meets him like a friend
Expected long. And if a tender tear,
At leaving your poor ward, melts in her eye,
And downward sinks its fervent ecstacy;
Still does impatience to be gone, betray
Her inward satisfaction. Yesternight,
As weeping, praying, by her couch I knelt,
Behold, my Adeliza, mark, she said,
How happy the death-bed of innocence![1]
Oh! lady, how those sounds affected me!
I wish'd to die with her—and oh! forgive me,
If in that moment I forgot my patroness!
COUNTESS.
It was a wish devout. Can that want pardon?
But to confess it, speaks thy native candour.
Thy virtuous, thy ingenuous truth disdains
To hide a thought—
It was a wish devout. Can that want pardon?
But to confess it, speaks thy native candour.
Thy virtuous, thy ingenuous truth disdains
To hide a thought—
ADELIZA, falling at her feet.
Oh! can I hear this praise,
And not expire in blushes at thy feet?
Oh! can I hear this praise,
And not expire in blushes at thy feet?
COUNTESS.
What means this passion?
What means this passion?
ADELIZA.
Ah recall thy words:
Thy Adeliza merits no encomium.
Ah recall thy words:
Thy Adeliza merits no encomium.
COUNTESS.
Thou art too modest. Praise is due to truth.
Thou shouldst not seek it; nor should I withhold it.
Thou art too modest. Praise is due to truth.
Thou shouldst not seek it; nor should I withhold it.
ADELIZA.
For pity, spare me.—No, my honour'd mistress,
I merit not—oh! no, my guilty heart
Deserves thy frowns—I cannot speak—
For pity, spare me.—No, my honour'd mistress,
I merit not—oh! no, my guilty heart
Deserves thy frowns—I cannot speak—
COUNTESS.
Be calm:
Thou know'st no guilt. Unfold thy lab'ring breast.
Say, am not I thy friend? Me canst thou fear?
Be calm:
Thou know'st no guilt. Unfold thy lab'ring breast.
Say, am not I thy friend? Me canst thou fear?
ADELIZA.
Can I fear ought beside? Fear ought but goodness?
Has not thy lavish bounty cloath'd me, fed me?
Hast thou not taught me virtue? Whom on earth,
But such a benefactress, such a friend,
Can Adeliza fear? Alas! she knows
No other friend! and christian fortitude
Dreads not a foe. Methinks I would have said
That christian innocence—but shame restrain'd
My conscious tongue—I am not innocent?
Can I fear ought beside? Fear ought but goodness?
Has not thy lavish bounty cloath'd me, fed me?
Hast thou not taught me virtue? Whom on earth,
But such a benefactress, such a friend,
Can Adeliza fear? Alas! she knows
No other friend! and christian fortitude
Dreads not a foe. Methinks I would have said
That christian innocence—but shame restrain'd
My conscious tongue—I am not innocent?
COUNTESS.
Thou dearest, orphan, to my bosom come,
And vent thy little sorrows. Purity
Like thine affrights itself with fancied guilt.
I'll be thy confessor; and trust me, love,
Thy penance will be light.
Thou dearest, orphan, to my bosom come,
And vent thy little sorrows. Purity
Like thine affrights itself with fancied guilt.
I'll be thy confessor; and trust me, love,
Thy penance will be light.
ADELIZA.
In vain you chear me.
Say, what is guilt, but to have known a thought
I blush'd to tell thee? To have lent mine ear,
For three long weeks, to sounds I did not wish
My patroness should hear! Ah! when till now
Have I not hoped thy presence, thought it long,
If two whole days detain'd thee from our mass?
When have I wept, but when thou hast refus'd
To let thy Adeliza call thee mother?
I know I was not worthy of such honour,
Too splendid for a child of charity.
I now am most unworthy! I, undone,
Have not desir'd thy presence; have not thought it
Long, if two days thou hast declin'd our mass.
Other discourse than thine has charm'd mine ear;
Nor dare I now presume to call thee mother!
In vain you chear me.
Say, what is guilt, but to have known a thought
I blush'd to tell thee? To have lent mine ear,
For three long weeks, to sounds I did not wish
My patroness should hear! Ah! when till now
Have I not hoped thy presence, thought it long,
If two whole days detain'd thee from our mass?
When have I wept, but when thou hast refus'd
To let thy Adeliza call thee mother?
I know I was not worthy of such honour,
Too splendid for a child of charity.
I now am most unworthy! I, undone,
Have not desir'd thy presence; have not thought it
Long, if two days thou hast declin'd our mass.
Other discourse than thine has charm'd mine ear;
Nor dare I now presume to call thee mother!
COUNTESS.
My lovely innocence, restrain thy tears.
I know thy secret; know, why beats and throbs
Thy little heart with unaccustom'd tumult.
My lovely innocence, restrain thy tears.
I know thy secret; know, why beats and throbs
Thy little heart with unaccustom'd tumult.
ADELIZA.
Impossible.———Oh! let me tell thee all—
Impossible.———Oh! let me tell thee all—
COUNTESS.
No, I will tell it thee. Thou hast convers'd
With a young knight—
No, I will tell it thee. Thou hast convers'd
With a young knight—
ADELIZA.
Amazement! Who inform'd thee?
Pent in her chamber, sickness has detain'd
Our abbess from the parlour. There I saw him,
Oft as he came alone.
Amazement! Who inform'd thee?
Pent in her chamber, sickness has detain'd
Our abbess from the parlour. There I saw him,
Oft as he came alone.
COUNTESS.
He talk'd of love;
And woo'd thee for his bride.
He talk'd of love;
And woo'd thee for his bride.
ADELIZA.
He did.
He did.
COUNTESS.
('Tis well: [Aside.
This is the stranger I beheld this morning.)
His father dead, he hastes to take possession
Of his paternal fortunes—is't not so?
('Tis well: [Aside.
This is the stranger I beheld this morning.)
His father dead, he hastes to take possession
Of his paternal fortunes—is't not so?
ADELIZA.
He sorrows for a father—something too
He utter'd of a large inheritance
That should be his—in truth I mark'd it not.
He sorrows for a father—something too
He utter'd of a large inheritance
That should be his—in truth I mark'd it not.
COUNTESS.
But when he spoke of love, thy very soul
Hung on his lips. Say, canst thou not repeat
Each word, each syllable? His accent too
Thou notedst: still it rings upon thine ear.
And then his eyes—they look'd such wond'rous truth;
Art thou not sure he cannot have deceiv'd thee?
But when he spoke of love, thy very soul
Hung on his lips. Say, canst thou not repeat
Each word, each syllable? His accent too
Thou notedst: still it rings upon thine ear.
And then his eyes—they look'd such wond'rous truth;
Art thou not sure he cannot have deceiv'd thee?
ADELIZA.
Alas! my noble mistress, thou dost mock
Poor Adeliza—what can I reply!
Alas! my noble mistress, thou dost mock
Poor Adeliza—what can I reply!
COUNTESS.
The truth. Thy words have ever held its language.
Say, dost thou love this stranger? Hast thou pledg'd
Thy faith to him?
The truth. Thy words have ever held its language.
Say, dost thou love this stranger? Hast thou pledg'd
Thy faith to him?
ADELIZA.
Angels forbid! What faith have I to give?
Can I dispose of ought without thy leave?
Angels forbid! What faith have I to give?
Can I dispose of ought without thy leave?
COUNTESS.
Insinuating softness!—still thou turnest
Aside my question. Thou dost love this stranger.
Insinuating softness!—still thou turnest
Aside my question. Thou dost love this stranger.
ADELIZA.
Yes, with such love as that I feel for thee.
His virtues I revere: his earnest words
Sound like the precepts of a tender parent:
And, next to thee, methinks I could obey him.
Yes, with such love as that I feel for thee.
His virtues I revere: his earnest words
Sound like the precepts of a tender parent:
And, next to thee, methinks I could obey him.
COUNTESS.
Ay, as his wife.
Ay, as his wife.
ADELIZA.
Oh! never. What, to lose him,
As thou thy Narbonne!
Oh! never. What, to lose him,
As thou thy Narbonne!
COUNTESS.
Check not, Adeliza,
Thy undevelop'd passion. Should this stranger
Prove what my wish has form'd, and what his words
Report him, it would bless my woeful days
To see thee plac'd above the reach of want,
And distant from this residence of sorrow.
Check not, Adeliza,
Thy undevelop'd passion. Should this stranger
Prove what my wish has form'd, and what his words
Report him, it would bless my woeful days
To see thee plac'd above the reach of want,
And distant from this residence of sorrow.
ADELIZA.
What! wouldst thou send me from thee! oh! for pity!
I cannot, will not leave thee. If thy goodness
Withdraw its bounty, at thy castle-gate
I'll wait and beg those alms thy gracious hand
To none refuses. I shall see thee pass,
And, pass'd, will kiss thy footsteps—wil't thou spurn me?
Well then, I'll die, and bless thee—Oh! this stranger!
'Tis he has done this; he has drawn thy anger
On thy poor ward!—I'll never see him more.
What! wouldst thou send me from thee! oh! for pity!
I cannot, will not leave thee. If thy goodness
Withdraw its bounty, at thy castle-gate
I'll wait and beg those alms thy gracious hand
To none refuses. I shall see thee pass,
And, pass'd, will kiss thy footsteps—wil't thou spurn me?
Well then, I'll die, and bless thee—Oh! this stranger!
'Tis he has done this; he has drawn thy anger
On thy poor ward!—I'll never see him more.
COUNTESS.
Be calm, my lovely orphan; hush thy fears.
Heav'n knows how fondly, anxiously I love thee!
The stranger's not to blame. Myself will task him,
And know if he deserves thee. Now retire,
Nor slack thy duty to th' expiring saint.
A lover must not weigh against a friend. [Ex. Adeliza.
And lo! where comes the friar. 'Twere not fit
He knew my purpose. Benedict, I fear,
Has views on this side heav'n.
Be calm, my lovely orphan; hush thy fears.
Heav'n knows how fondly, anxiously I love thee!
The stranger's not to blame. Myself will task him,
And know if he deserves thee. Now retire,
Nor slack thy duty to th' expiring saint.
A lover must not weigh against a friend. [Ex. Adeliza.
And lo! where comes the friar. 'Twere not fit
He knew my purpose. Benedict, I fear,
Has views on this side heav'n.
- ↑ Dr. Young relates that Mr. Addison, on his death-bed, spoke in this manner to his pupil Lord Warwick.