Yea, death itself; through which you will find entrance Into the pleasant pastures of the fold, Where you shall feed forever as the herds That roam at large in the low valleys of Achor.
And as the flowing of the ocean fills Each creek and branch thereof, and then retires, Leaving behind a sweet and wholesome savor;So doth the virtue and the life of God Flow evermore into the hearts of those Whom He hath made partakers of His nature;And, when it but withdraws itself a little, Leaves a sweet savor after it, that many Can say they are made clean by every word That He hath spoken to them in their silence."EDITH (rising and breaking into a kind of chant).
Truly we do but grope here in the dark, Near the partition-wall of Life and Death, At every moment dreading or desiring To lay our hands upon the unseen door!
Let us, then, labor for an inward stillness,--An inward stillness and an inward healing;That perfect silence where the lips and heart Are still, and we no longer entertain Our own imperfect thoughts and vain opinions, But God alone speaks in us, and we wait In singleness of heart, that we may know His will, and in the silence of our spirits, That we may do His will, and do that only!
A long pause, interrupted by the sound of a drum approaching;then shouts in the street, and a loud knocking at the door.
MARSHAL.
Within there! Open the door!
MERRY.
Will no one answer?
MARSHAL.
In the King's name! Within there!
MERRY.
Open the door!
UPSALL (from the window).
It is not barred.Come in.Nothing prevents you.
The poor man's door is ever on the latch.
He needs no bolt nor bar to shut out thieves;He fears no enemies, and has no friends Importunate enough to need a key.
Enter JOHN ENDICOTT, the MARSHAL, MERRY, and a crowd.Seeing the Quakers silent and unmoved, they pause, awe-struck.ENDICOTTopposite EDITH.
MARSHAL.
In the King's name do I arrest you all!
Away with them to prison.Master Upsall, You are again discovered harboring here These ranters and disturbers of the peace.
You know the law.
UPSALL.
I know it, and am ready To suffer yet again its penalties.
EDITH (to ENDICOTT).
Why dost thou persecute me, Saul of Tarsus?
ACT II.
SCENE I.-- JOHN ENDICOTT's room.Early morning.
JOHN ENDICOTT.
"Why dost thou persecute me, Saul of Tarsus?"All night these words were ringing in mine ears!
A sorrowful sweet face; a look that pierced me With meek reproach; a voice of resignation That had a life of suffering in its tone;And that was all! And yet I could not sleep, Or, when I slept, I dreamed that awful dream!
I stood beneath the elm-tree on the Common, On which the Quakers have been hanged, and heard A voice, not hers, that cried amid the darkness, "This is Aceldama, the field of blood!
I will have mercy, and not sacrifice!"
Opens the window and looks out.
The sun is up already; and my heart Sickens and sinks within me when I think How many tragedies will be enacted Before his setting.As the earth rolls round, It seems to me a huge Ixion's wheel, Upon whose whirling spokes we are bound fast, And must go with it! Ah, how bright the sun Strikes on the sea and on the masts of vessels, That are uplifted, in the morning air, Like crosses of some peaceable crusade!
It makes me long to sail for lands unknown, No matter whither! Under me, in shadow, Gloomy and narrow, lies the little town, Still sleeping, but to wake and toil awhile, Then sleep again.How dismal looks the prison, How grim and sombre in the sunless street,--The prison where she sleeps, or wakes and waits For what I dare not think of,--death, perhaps!
A word that has been said may he unsaid:
It is but air.But when a deed is done It cannot be undone, nor can our thoughts Reach out to all the mischiefs that may follow.
'T is time for morning prayers.I will go down.
My father, though severe, is kind and just;And when his heart is tender with devotion,--When from his lips have fallen the words, "Forgive us As we forgive,"--then will I intercede For these poor people, and perhaps may save them.
[Exit.
SCENE II.-- Dock Square.On one side, the tavern of the Three Mariners.In the background, a quaint building with gables; and, beyond it, wharves and shipping.CAPTAIN KEMPTHORN and others seated at a table before the door.SAMUEL COLE standing near them.
KEMPTHORN.
Come, drink about! Remember Parson Melham, And bless the man who first invented flip!
They drink.
COLE.
Pray, Master Kempthorn, where were you last night?
KEMPTHORN.
On board the Swallow, Simon Kempthorn, master, Up for Barbadoes, and the Windward Islands.
COLE.
The town was in a tumult.
KEMPTHORN.
And for what?
COLE.
Your Quakers were arrested.
KEMPTHORN.
How my Quakers?
COLE.
These you brought in your vessel from Barbadoes.
They made an uproar in the Meeting-house Yesterday, and they're now in prison for it.
I owe you little thanks for bringing them To the Three Mariners.
KEMPTHORN.
They have not harmed you.
I tell you, Goodman Cole, that Quaker girl Is precious as a sea-bream's eye.I tell you It was a lucky day when first she set Her little foot upon the Swallow's deck, Bringing good luck, fair winds, and pleasant weather.
COLE.
I am a law-abiding citizen;
I have a seat in the new Meeting-house, A cow-right on the Common; and, besides, Am corporal in the Great Artillery.
I rid me of the vagabonds at once.
KEMPTHORN.
Why should you not have Quakers at your tavern If you have fiddlers?
COLE.
Never! never! never!
If you want fiddling you must go elsewhere, To the Green Dragon and the Admiral Vernon, And other such disreputable places.
But the Three Mariners is an orderly house, Most orderly, quiet, and respectable.
Lord Leigh said he could be as quiet here As at the Governor's.And have I not King Charles's Twelve Good Rules, all framed and glazed, Hanging in my best parlor?
KEMPTHORN.
Here's a health To good King Charles.Will you not drink the King?
Then drink confusion to old Parson Palmer.
COLE.
And who is Parson Palmer? I don't know him.
KEMPTHORN.
He had his cellar underneath his pulpit, And so preached o'er his liquor, just as you do.
A drum within.
COLE.
