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Thor. These are the genuine signs of true re- True. I came not to reproach you; I thought pentance; the only preparatory, the certain way to bring you comfort; but I am deceived, for I to everlasting peace. Oh, the joy it gives to see have none to give. I came to share thy sorrow, a soul formed and prepared for Heaven! For this but cannot bear my own. the faithful minister devotes himself to medita- Barn. My sense of guilt, indeed, you cannot tion, abstinence, and prayer, shunning the vain know; it is what the good and innocent, like delights of sensual joys, and daily dies, that others you, can never conceive : but other griefs, at may live for ever. For this be turns the sacred present, I have none, but what I feel for you. volume over, and spends his life in painful search In your sorrow I read you love me still; but, of truth. The love of riches and the lust of yet, methinks, it is strange when I consider what power, he looks upon with just contempt and de- | I am. testation; he only counts for wealth the souls he True. No more of that ; I can remember nowins, and his highest ambition is to serve man- thing but thy virtucs, thy honest, tender friendkind. If the reward of all bis pains be to pre-ship, our former happy state, and present misery. serve one soul from wandering, or turn one from Oh, had you trusted me when first the fair sethe error of his ways, how does he then rejoice, ducer tempted you, all might have been preventand own his little labours overpaid !
ed! Burn. What do I owe for all your generous Barn. Alas, thou knowest not what a wretch kindness? But though I cannot, Heaven can and I have been. Breach of friendship was my first will reward you.
and least offence. So far was I lost to goodness, Thor. To see thee thus, is joy too great for so devoted to the author of my ruin, that, had words. Farewell.—Heaven strengthen thee ! - she insisted on my murdering thee, I think-I Farewell.
should have done it. Barn. Oh, sir, there is something I would say, True. Prithee, aggravate thy faults no more. if my sad swelling heart would give me leave. Burn. I think I should ! Thus good and geneThor. Give it vent a while, and try.
rous as you are, I should have murdered you! Barn. I had a friend-it is true I am unwor- True. We have not yet embraced, and may be thy—yet methinks your generous example might interrupted. Come to my arms. persuade- -Could not I see him once, before I Barn. Never, never will I taste such joys on go from whence there is no return?
earth ; never will I so soothe my just remorse. Thor. He is coming, and as much thy friend as Are those honest arms and faithful bosom fit to
I will not anticipate his sorrow; too soon embrace and to support a murderer ? These iron he will see the sad effect of this contagious ruin. fetters only shall clasp, and flinty pavement bear This torrent of domestic misery bears too hard me ; [throwing himself on the ground,] even upon me. I must retire to indulge a weakness I these too good for such a bloody monster. find impossible to overcome. (Aside.] Much lo- True. Shall fortune sever those whom friendved—and much lamented youth! Farewell.- ship joined? Thy miseries cannot lay thee so low, Heaven strengthen thee !- -Eternally fare- but love will find thee. Here will we offer to well!
stern calamity ; this place the altar, and ourBarn. The best of masters and of men-Fare- selves the sacrifice. Our mutual groans shall well! While I live, let me not want your prayers. echo to each other through the dreary vault ; our
Thor. Thou shalt not. Thy peace being made sighs shall number the moments as they pass, and with Heaven, death is already vanquished. Bear mingling tears communicate, such anguish, as a little longer the pains that attend this transitory words were never made to express. life, and cease from pain for ever.
Barn. Then be it so. (Rising.) Since you [Erit THOROWGOOD. propose an intercourse of woe, pour all your. Burn. Perhaps I shall. I find a power within, griefs into my breast, and in exchange take mine. that bears my soul above the fears of death, and, [Embracing.) Where's now the anguish that we spite of conscious shame and guilt, gives me a promised? You have taken mine, and make me taste of pleasure more than mortal,
no return. Sure peace and comfort dwell within
these arms, and sorrow cannot approach me while Enter TRUEMAN and Keepcr.
I am here. This too is the work of Heaven; Keep. Sir, there is the prisoner. [Erit Keeper. which, having before spoke peace and pardon to Barn. Trueman! My friend, whom I so wish. me, now sends thee to confirm it. Oh, take ed to see, yet now he's here, I dare not look upon some of the joy that overflows my breast ! him!
[Wecps. True. I do, I do. Almighty power! how hast True. Oh, Barnwell ! Barnwell!
thou made us capable to bear at once the exBarn. Mercy! Mercy! gracious Heaven! For tremes of pleasure and of pain. death, but not for this, I was prepared. True. What have I suffered since I saw thee
Enter Kecper. last! What pain has absence given me !-But,
Keep. Sir. oh, to see thee thus !
True. I come.
[Erit Keeper. Burn. I know it is dreadful! I feel the anguish Burn. Must you leave me? Death would soon of thy generous soul-But I was born to murder have parted us for ever. all who love me !
True. Oh, my Barnwell! there's yet another.
task behind. Again your heart must bleed for have sighed in vain. Bless with your charms others woes.
some honourable lord. Adorn with your beauty, Barn. To meet and part with you I thought and by your example improve, the English court, was all I had to do on earth. What is there that justly claims such merit: so shall I quickly more for me to do or suffer?
be to you, as though I had never been. True. I dread to tell thee, yet it must be Mar. When I forget you, I must be so indeed. known! Maria
Reason, choice, virtue, all forbid it. Let women, Bera. Our master's fair and virtuous daugh- like Millwood, if there are more such women, ter?
smile in prosperity, and in adversity forsake. Be True. The same.
it the pride of virtue to repair, or to partake, the Barn. No misfortune, I hope, has reached ruin such have made. that maid! Preserve her, Heaven, from every ill, True. Lovely, ill-fated maid! Was there ever to shew mankind that goodness is your care ! such generous distress before? How must this
True. Thy, thymisfortunes, my unhappy friend, pierce his grateful heart, and aggravate his woes! have reached her. Whatever you and I have felt, Barn. Ere I knew guilt or shame, when forand more, if more be possible, she feels for you. tune smiled, and when my youthful hopes were
Barn. I know he doth abhor a lie, and would at the highest; if then to have raised my thoughts not trifle with his dying friend. This is indeed to you, had been presumption in me never to the bitterness of death.
(Aside. have been pardoned, think how much beneath True. You must remember (for we all observed yourself you condescend to regard me now! it) for some time past, a heavy melancholy Mar. Let her blush, who, proffering love, inweighed her down. Disconsolate she seemed, vades the freedom of your sex's choice, and and pined and languished from a cause unknown; meanly sues in hopes of a return. Your inevitatill
, hearing of your dreadful fate, the long-stifled ble fate hath rendered hope impossible as vain. flame blazed out; she wept, and wrung her hands, | Then why should I fear to avow a passion so just and tore her hair, and, in the transport of her and so disinterested ? grief, discovered her own lost state, while she la- True. If any should take occasion from Milllented yours.
wood's crimes to libel the best and fairest part Barn. Will all the pain I feel restore thy ease, of the creation, here let them sce their error.lovely unhappy maid ! (Weeping.) Why did you The most distant hopes of such a tender passion not let me die, and never know it?
from so bright a maid, might add to the hapTrue. It was impossible. She makes no secret piness of the most happy, and make the greatest of her passion for you; she is determined to see proud : yet here 'tis lavished in vain. Though you ere you die, and waits for me to introduce by the rich present the generous donor is undone,
[Erit TRUEMAN. he on whom it is bestowed receives no benefit. Barn. Vain, busy thoughts, be still ! What Barn. So the aromatic spices of the east, which avails it to think on what I might have been! I all the living covet and estcem, are with unavailnow an—what I have made myself.
ing kindness wasted on the dead.
Mar. Yes, fruitless is my love, and unavailing Enter TRUEMAX and MARIA,
all my sighs and tears. Can they save thee from True. Madam, reluctant I lead you to this dis- approaching death? From such a death? Oh sormal scene. This is the seat of misery and guilt. row insupportable! Oh, terrible idea! What is Here awful justice reserves her public victims. her misery and distress, who sees the first, last This is the entrance to a shameful death. object of her love, for whom alone she would live,
Mar. To this sad place then, no improper for whom she would die a thousand thousand guest, the abanıloned lost Maria brings despair, deaths, if it were possible, expiring in her arms? and sees the subject and the cause of all this Yet she is happy when compared to me. Were world of woe. Silent and motionless he stands, millions of worlds minc, I would gladly give them as if his soul had quitted her abode, and the life in exchange for her condition. The most conJess form alone was left behind; yet that so per- summate woe is light to mine. The last of curfect, that beauty and death, ever at enmity, now ses to other miserable maids, is all I ask for my seem united there.
relief, and that's denied me. Barn. I groan, but murmur not. Just Hea- True. Time and reflection cure all ills. ren! I am your own; do with me what you please. Mar. Al but this. His dreadful catastrophe,
Mar. Why are your streaming eyes still fixed Virtue herself abhors. To give a holiday to subelow, as thongh thou wouldst give the greedy burb slaves, and passing entertain the savage herd, carth thy sorrow 3, and rob me of my due! Were who, elbowing each other for a sight, pursue and happiness within your power, you should bestow press upon him like his fate! A mind, with piety it where you pleased; but in your misery I must and resolution armed, may smile on death : But
public ignominy, everlasting shame, shame, the Barn.' Oh, say not so, but ily, abhor, and death of souls! to die a thousand times, and leave me to my fate! Consider what you are, how yet survive even death itself in never-dying infavast your fortune, and how bright your fame. my-Is this to be endured! Can I, who live in him, llave pity on your youth, your beauty, and un- and must each hour of my devoted life feel als equalled virtue; for which so many noble peers these woes renewed.--Can I endure this ?
and will partake.
True. Grief has so impaired her spirits, she end! Life, like a tale that's told, is passed away. pants as in the agonies of death.
That short, but dark and unknown passage, death, Barn. Preserve her, Heaven, and restore her is all the space between us and endless joys, or peace, nor let her death be added to my crimes ! woes eternal. (Bell tolls.] I am summoned to my fate.
Mill. Is this the end of all my flattering hopes?
Were youth and beauty given me for a curse, Enter Keeper.
and wisdom, only to ensure my ruin? They were, Keep. Sir, the officers attend you. Millwood they were. Heaven, thou hast done thy worst. is already summoned.
Or if thou hast in store some untried plague, Barn. Tell them, I am ready. And now, my somewhat that is worse than shame, despair, and friend, farewell. [Embracing.) Support, and com- death, unpitied death, confirmed despair, and fort, the best you can, this mourning fair.-No soul-confounding shame ; something that men more-Forget not to pray for me. [Turning to and angels cannot describe, and only fiends, who MARIA.] Would you, bright excellence, permit bear it, can conceive; now, pour it now on this me the honour of a chaste embrace, the last hap- devoted head, that I may feel the worst thou piness this world could give were mine. (She in- canst inflict, and bid defiance to thy utmost clines towards him, they embrace.] Exalted good- power. ness! Oh, turn your eyes from earth and me to Barn. Yet ere we pass the dreadful gulf of Heaven, where virtue, like yours, is ever heard ! death, yet ere you are plunged in everlasting woe, Pray for the peace of my departing soul. Early Oh, bend your stubborn knees, and harder heart, iny race of wickedness began, and soon I reach- humbly to deprecate the wrath divine! Who ed the summit. Ere nature has finished her work, knows, but Heaven, in your dying moments, may and stamped me inan, just at the time when others bestow that grace and mercy which your life des. begin to stray, my course is finished. Though pised ! short my span of life, and few my days, yet count Mill. Why name you mercy to a wretch like my crimes for years, and I have lived whole ages. me ? Mercy is beyond my hope, almost beyond Thus justice, in compassion to mankind, cuts off my wish. I cannot repent, nor ask to be forgiven, a wretch like me; by one such example to se- Barn. Oh, think what 'tis to be for ever, ever cure thousands from future ruin.—Justice and miserable, nor with vain pride oppose a power, mercy are in Heaven the same: its utmost seve- that is able to destroy you ! rity is mercy to the whole: thereby to cure man's Mill. That will destroy me; I feel it will. A folly and presumption, which else would render deluge of wrath is pouring on my soul. Chains, even infinite mercy vain and ineffectual.
darkness, wheels, racks, sharp-stinged scorpions, If any youth, like you, in future times, molten lead, and whole seas of sulphur, are light Shall mourn my fate, though he abhors my to what I feel. crimes,
Barn. Oh, add not to your vast account deOr tender maid, like you, my tale shall hear, spair! a sin more injurious to Heaven, than all And to my sorrows give a pitying tear; you have yet committed. To each such melting eye and throbbing heart, Mill. Oh, I have sinned beyond the reach of Would gracious Heaven this benefit impart, mercy! Never to know my guilt, nor feel my pain, Barn. Oh, say not so! it is blasphemy to Then must you own, you ought not to complain, think it. As yon bright roof is higher than the Since you nor weep, nor shall I die in vain. earth, so, and much more, does Heaven's good(Ereunt BARNWELL and Officers. ness pass our apprehension. Oh, what created
being shall presume to circumscribe mercy, that SCENE III.—The Place of Erecution. knows no bounds! The Gallows and Ladder at the farther End of be boundless, yet it is free. I was doomed, be
Mill. This yields no hope. Though pity may the Stage. A Crowd of Spectators, BLUNT and fore the world began, to endless pains, and thou LUCY.
to joys eternal. Lucy. Heavens! what a throng !
Barn. Oh, gracious heaven! extend thy pity Blunt. How terrible is death, when thus pre- to her ; let thy rich mercy flow in plenteous pared!
streams, to chase her fears, and heal her woundLucy. Support them, Heaven! Thou only canst ed soul! support them; all other help is vain.
Mill. It will not be: your prayers are lost in Officer. (Within.] Make way there; make way, air, or else returned, perhaps, with double blesand give the prisoners room,
sings, to your bosom : they help not me. Lucy. They are here: observe them well.– Barn. Yet hear me, Millwood ! How humble and composed young Barnwell Mill. Away, I will not hear thee: I tell thee, seems ! But Millwood looks wild, and ruffled
youth, I am by Heaven devoted a dreadful inwith passion, confounded, and amazed.. stance of its power to punish, [BARNWELL seems Enter BARNWELL, MILLWOOD, Officers and Ex
to pray.) If thou wilt pray, pray for thyself, nat
me. How doth his fervent soul mount with his ecutioner,
words, and both ascend to Heaven ! that HeaParn. See, Millwood, see, our journey is at an ven, whose gates are shut with adamantine bars
against my prayers, had I the will to pray. I cannot bear it. Sure 'tis the worst of torments
Enter TRUEMAN. to behold others enjoy that bliss, which we must Lacy. Heart-breaking sight !---Oh, wretchnever taste.
ed, wretched Millwood! Officer. The utmost limit of your time is ex- True. How is she disposed to meet her fate? pired.
Blunt. Who can describe unutterable woe? Mill. Encompassed with horror, whither must Lucy. She goes to death encompassed with I go? I would not live-nor die-That I could horror, loathing life, and yet afraid to die. No cease to be or ne'er had been !
tongue can tell her anguish and despair Barn. Since peace and comfort are denied her True. Heaven be better to her than her fears! here, may she find mercy where she least expects May she prove a warning to others, a monument it, and this be all her hell! From our example of mercy in herself! may all be taught to fly the first approach of vice: Lucy. Oh, sorrow insupportable! Break, break, but if o'ertaken,
By strong temptation, weakness, or surprise, True. In vain,
show To sin's like men, and to forgive like Heaven. A humane, generous sense of others' woe ;
[Exeunt. Unless we mark what drew to ruin on, And, by avoiding that, prevent our own.
BY COLLEY CIBBER.-SPOKEN BY MARIA.
SINCE fate has robb'd me of the hapless youth, 'Tis very well, enjoy the jest :--but you,
and them the difference this perhaps : But soft-With caution first I'll round me The cit's ashamed whene'er his duck he traps ; peep:
But you, when madam's tripping, let her fall, Maids, in my case, should look before they leap. Cock up your hats, and take no shame at all. Here's choice enough, of various sorts and hue, What if some favour'd poet I could meet, The cit, the wit, the rake cock'd up in cue, Whose love would lay his laurels at my feet? The fair spruce mercer, and the tawny Jew. No-painted passions real love abhors
Suppose I search the sober gallery-No; His flame would prove the suit of creditors. There's none but 'prentices, and cuckolds all-a- Not to detain you then with longer pause, row;
In short, my heart to his conclusion draws; And these, I doubt, are those that make them so. I yield it to the hand that's loudest in applause.
[Pointing to the bores.
BY HENRY FIELDING.
The Tragic Music has long forgot to please, Virtue distrest in humble state support; With Shakespeare's nature and with Fletcher's Nor think she never lives without the court.
Though to our scenes no royal robes belong, No passion mov'd, through five long acts you sit, And though our little stage as yet be young, Charm'd with the poet's language or his wit. Throw both your scorn and prejudice aside, Fine things are said, no matter whence they fall; Let us with favour, not contempt, be tried ; Each single character might speak them all. Through the first acts a kind attention lend,
But from this modern fashionable way, The growing scene shall force you to attend;
And make them charm their lovers with a tear. No armiès fall to fix a tyrant's right:
The lover too by pity shall impart From lower life we draw our scene's distress : His tender passion to his fair one's heart : -Let not your equals move your pity less ! The breast which others' anguish cannot move,
Was ne'er the seat of friendship, or of love.
SCENE,- Penryn, in Cornwall.