'Twas I alas! 'twas I

That filled her breast with fury-drove her down

The precipice of death! Wretch that I am! ANNA. Oh, had you seen her last despair

ing look!

300

Upon the brink she stood, and cast her eyes Down on the deep; then lifting up her head And her white hands to Heaven, seeming to say,

LORD RANDOLPH.

307

Why am I forced to this? she plunged herself
Into the empty air.
I will not vent
In vain complaints the passion of my soul.
Peace in this world I never can enjoy.
These wounds the gratitude of Randolph gave;
They speak aloud and with the voice of fate
Denounce my doom. I am resolved. I'll go
Straight to the battle, where the man that
makes

311

Me turn aside must threaten worse than death.

Thou, faithful to my mistress, take this ring, Full warrant of my power. Let every rite With cost and pomp upon their funerals wait;

315

For Randolph hopes he never shall return. Exeunt

EPILOGUE

An Epilogue I asked; but not one word
Our bard will write. He vows 'tis most

absurd

5

With comic wit to contradict the strain
Of tragedy and make your sorrows vain.
Sadly he says that pity is the best
And noblest passion of the human breast:
For when its sacred streams the heart o'er-
flow,

In gushes pleasure with the tide of woe;
And when its waves retire, like those of Nile,
They leave behind him such a golden soil,
That there the virtues without culture grow.
There the sweet blossoms of affection blow.
These were his words; void of delusive art,
I felt them, for he spoke them from his heart.
Nor will I now attempt, with witty folly,
To chase away celestial melancholy.

16

When I undertook to write a comedy, I confess I was strongly prepossessed in favor of the poets of the last age, and strove to imitate them. The term "genteel comedy" was then unknown amongst us, and little more was desired by an audience than nature and humor, in whatever walks of life they were most conspicuous. The author of the following scenes never imagined that more would be expected of him, and therefore to delineate character has been his principal aim. Those who know anything of composition are sensible that, in pursuing humor, it will sometimes lead us into the recesses of the mean; I was even tempted to look for it in the master of a sponging-house: but in deference to the public taste, grown of late, perhaps, too delicate, the scene of the bailiffs was retrenched in the

representation. In deference also to the judgment of a few friends, who think in a particular way, the scene is here restored. The author submits it to the reader in his closet; and hopes that too much refinement will not banish humor and character from ours, as it has already done from the French theatre. Indeed, the French comedy is now become so very elevated and sentimental, that it has not only banished humor and Molière from the stage, but it has banished all spectators too.

Upon the whole, the author returns his thanks to the public for the favorable reception which The Good-Natured Man has met with, and to Mr. Colman in particular for his kindness to it. It may not also be improper to assure any who shall hereafter write for the theatre that merit, or supposed merit, will ever be a sufficient passport to his protection.

Says swelling Crispin, "begged a cobbler's vote."

prevent, not defend, his errors.

27

JARVIS. Faith, begging your honor's pardon, I'm sorry they taught him any philoso

SIR WILLIAM. Don't let us ascribe his faults to his philosophy, I entreat you. No, Jarvis, his good-nature arises rather from his fears of offending the importunate than his desire of making the deserving happy.

JARVIS. What it rises from, I don't know. But, to be sure, everybody has it that asks it. SIR WILLIAM. Aye, or that does not ask it. I have been now for some time a concealed spectator of his follies, and find them as boundless as his dissipation.

46

JARVIS. Well, if I could but any way see him thoroughly vexed, every groan of his would be music to me; yet faith, I believe it impossible. I have tried to fret him myself every morning these three years; but, instead of being angry, he sits as calmly to hear me scold as he does to his hair-dresser.

SIR WILLIAM. We must try him once more, however, and I'll go this instant to put my scheme into execution; and I don't despair of succeeding, as, by your means, I can have frequent opportunities of being about him without being known. What a pity it is, Jarvis, that any man's goodwill to others should produce so much neglect of himself as to require correction! Yet we must touch his weakness with a delicate hand. There are some faults so nearly allied to excellence that we can scarce weed out the vice without eradicating the virtue. Exit JARVIS. Well, go thy ways, Sir William Honeywood. It is not without reason that the world allows thee to be the best of men. -But here comes his hopeful nephew; the strange good-natured, foolish, open-hearted -and yet, all his faults are such that one loves him still the better for them.

Enter HONEYWOOD

91