The Scarlet Letter: A Dramatic Composition

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Transatlantic publishing Company, 1896 - 52 pages
 

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Page 35 - Ah. better, far better To wear that raiment, . Than life-long lurk in deceit. Woe unto me ! — My letter in secret still doth burn With a pain that never and never dies ; As though I stood at the judgment-seat, Nor offered even confession's payment ; While, from the throne above, Like trumpet-blasts, I hear the accusing voice : — "Thou, consecrate and placed O'er men, to teach them purity, False art thou to thy trust ! Thy calling hast thou disgraced. Soiled are thy robes, and thou Liest low in...
Page 11 - Far beyond the sea, A child to thee was born, Bringing disgrace and scorn. Heaven's wise decree Hath taken thy daughter away, Wafted on wings of death.
Page 13 - O Hester, Hester ! — His soul with thine condemned may be. [ARTHUR sinks back, exhausted. with hand over heart. BELLINGHAM and WILSON, anxious, support him. Chorus. Look, look ! He reels And trembles. Too sharp the stress Of grief that he feels For the wanton's woe. Though fallen low, Base woman, thou shouldst be proud Of the wretchedness His pity deigns to bless. Answer him, aloud. Arthur (rousing himself to fresh effort). Ay. Tell them who tempted thee.
Page 6 - The form was moulded by the sentiment, passion or situation at each moment. Besides the metre and rhythm of each line, regarded separately, there is often a complicated word melody, or a scheme of emphases and pauses, running through several lines. These three, as a simple instance, while having each its own "time...
Page 14 - Arthur. Speak out the name : Chorus. Speak, speak ! ChilL (from crowd). Ay, woman; speak, And give thy child a father ! Hester (startled and agitated). Ha ; that voice — No, no ; thrice no, to thee ! My child hath found A heavenly father. Ye shall...
Page 52 - Twill save me from life : And sweet to my lips its coldness comes, As the cool winds that blow From mountains white forever with snow. Thou shalt not go alone ! [She drinks the poison and dies. Chorus, Hush, hush ! Their souls are fled. . Peace unto the dead ! The flower of sacrifice Blooms in no earthly garden. Thou, Hester, over us triumph hast won ; Towards mercy turning our sullen hate. Thou, Arthur, though repenting late, — May God thee pardon ! [END OF THE SCARLET LETTER.] STE1NVJAY PIANOS...

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