Bel. Alas, for pity! Oh, those speaking tears! Could they be false? Did she not suffer with you? For though the king by force possess'd her person, Her unconsenting heart dwelt still with you." If all her former woes were not enough, Look on her now; behold her where she wanders, Hunted to death, distress'd on every side, With no one hand to help; and tell me then, If ever misery were known like hers? Dum. And can she bear it? Can that delicate Entreat for bread, and want the needful raiment Bel. Somewhere about this quarter of the town, [Exeunt. SCENE II.-A Street. Enter JANE SHORE, her hair hanging loose on her shoulders, and bare-footed. Jane S. Yet, yet endure, nor murmur, O my soul! For are not thy transgressions great and numberDo they not cover thee like rising floods, [less? And press thee like a weight of waters down? Wait then with patience, till the circling hours Shall bring the time of thy appointed rest, And lay thee down in death. "Tis I, her friend, the partner of her heart, Go hence, and howl to those that will regard you. Jane S. It was not always thus: the time has been, When this unfriendly door, that bars my passage, Hangs on my door: whose hateful whine of woe Jane S. A very beggar, and a wretch, indeed; Alic. And dost thou come to me, to me for bread? Has thought unhappy Shore her dearest blessing, well; "Tis true;-I know thee now;-a mischief on thee! Thou art that fatal fair, that cursed she, [me; That set my brain a madd'ning. Thou hast robb'd Thou hast undone me.-Murder! O, my Hastings! See his pale bloody head shoots glaring by me! Avaunt! and come not near me. Jane S. To thy hand And hark! methinks the roar that late pursu'd me, I trusted all; gave my whole store to thee: Sinks like the murmurs of a falling wind, And malice then grow weary, and forsake me? Is your lady, Jane S. Do you not know me? Jane S. Tell my Alicia, 'tis 1 would see her. Nor do I ask it back; allow me but Jane S. O for mercy! Alic. Mercy! I know it not!-for I am miserable. I'll give thee Misery, for here she dwells; This is her house, where the sun never dawns; The bird of night sits screaming o'er the roof, Grim spectres sweep along the horrid gloom, And nought is heard but wailings and lamentings. Hark! something cracks above! it shakes! it totters, And see the nodding ruin falls to crush me! 'Tis fall'n, 'tis here! I felt it on my brain! Let her take my counsel: [heart, Why shouldst thou be a wretch? Stab, tear thy I wo' not linger long behind thee here. And now 'tis out, and I am drown'd in blood. I can no more; (lies down,) receive me, thou cold Thou common parent, take me to thy bosom, Enter BELMOUR. Bel. Upon the ground! Thy miseries can never lay thee lower. [aloof, Jane S. Ah, Belmour! where indeed? they stand Bel. Yet raise thy drooping head; for I am come Jane S. Dumont! Ha! Where? (Raising herself, and looking about.) Then heaven has heard my pray'r; his very name Renews the springs of life, and cheers my soul. Has he then 'scap'd the snare? Bel. He has; but see He comes unlike the Dumont you knew, For now he wears your better angel's form, Jane S. Speak, tell me! Which is he? and, oh! This dreadful vision? See, it comes upon me-- Cast thy black veil upon my shame, O night! Shore. Why dost thou turn away?-Why tremble Cast every black and guilty thought behind thee, Now while occasion seems to smile upon us. Jane S. Alas! I'm wondrous faint: [days. But that's not strange, I have not eat these three Jane S. Oh! I am sick at heart! Wo't thou still drink her blood, pursue her still? Enter CATESBY, with a Guard. Cates. Seize on 'em both, as traitors to the state!- (Guards lay hold on Shore and Belmour.) Cates, Have we not found you, In scorn of the protector's strict command, Shore. Infamy on thy head; Thou tool of power, thou pander to authority! I tell thee, knave, thou know'st of none so virtuous; Cates. Convey the men to prison; but for her,- (Following him as he is carried off—she falls.) Shore. Inhuman villains! (Breaks from the Guards.) Stand off! the agonies of death are on her! She pulls, she gripes me hard with her cold hand. [prise. Jane S. Was this blow wanting to complete my sur-Oh! let me go, ye ministers of terror, [ruin? He shall offend no more, for I will die, And yield obedience to your cruel master Tarry a little, but a little longer, And take my last breath with you. Bel. Her weakness could not bear the strong Shore. So,-gently raise her,—(Raising her up.) Jane S. My heart is thrill'd with horror. Your husband lives! 'tis he, my worthiest friend. round me? Oh, save me Belmour, from his angry shade! Oh! that my eyes could shut him out for ever. Shore. Am I so hateful, then, so deadly to thee. Jane S. Oh! thou most injur'd-dost thou live, in- Shore. Oh, my love! Why dost thou fix thy dying eyes upon me, Jane S. Forgive me!-but forgive me! And make my portion blest or curst for ever. Jane S. Then all is well, and I shall sleep in 'Tis very dark, and I have lost you now:- [you? (Dies.) A COMEDY, IN FIVE ACTS.-BY CHARLES MACKLIN. ACT I-SCENE I-A Library. Betty. The postman is at the gate, Sam; pray step and take in the letters. [Betty. Sam. John the gardener is gone for them, Mrs. Betty. Bid John bring them to me, Sam: tell him I am here in the library. Sam. I'll send him to your ladyship in a crack. [Exit. Enter NANNY. Nanny. Miss Constantia desires to speak to you, Mrs. Betty. Betty. How is she now?-any better, Nanny? Nanny. Something; but very low-spirited still. I verily believe it is as you say. Betty. O! I would take my book oath of it. I cannot be deceived in that point, Nanny.-Ay, ay, her business is done: she is certainly breeding, depend upon it. LADY RODOLPHA LUMBERCOURT. CONSTANTIA. BETTY HINT. SERVANTS. Nanny. Why, so the housekeeper thinks, too. Betty. Nay, I know the father, the man that ruined her. Nanny. The deuse you do! Betty. As sure as you are alive, Nanny: or I am greatly deceived; and yet I can't be deceived neither. Was not that the cook that came galloping so hard over the common just now? Nanny. The same: how very hard he galloped! he has been but three quarters of an hour, he says, coming from Hyde-park Corner. Betty. And what time will the family be down? Nanny. He has orders to have dinner ready by five; there are to be lawyers, and a great deal of company here: he fancies there is to be a private wedding to-night, between our young Master Charles, and Lord Lumbercourt's daughter, the Scotch lady; who, he says, is just come post from Bath, in order to be married to him. Betty. Ay, Ay, Lady Rodolpha. Nay, like enough, for I know it has been talked of a good while: well, go tell Miss Constantia that I will be with her immediately. Nanny. I shall, Mrs. Betty. [Exit. Betty. So!-I find they all believe the impertinent creature is breeding-that's pure! it will soon reach my lady's ears, I warrant. Enter JOHN, Well, John, ever a letter for me? John. No, Mrs. Betty; but here is one for Miss Betty. Give it me.-Hum! my lady's hand. Betty. O! yes, yes; this is for Master Charles, John. The parliament!-pr'ythee, why so, Mrs. Betty. Why, you must know, John, that my lady, his mother, was an Egerton, by her father; she stole a match with our old master, for which all her family, on both sides, have hated Sir Pertinax, and the whole crew of the Macsycophants, ever since; and so, John, my lady's uncle, Sir Stanley Egerton, dying an old bachelor, and, as I said before, mortally hating our old master, and all the crew of the Mascycophants, left his whole estate to Master Charles, who was his god-son; but; on condition that he should drop his father's name of Mascycophant, and take up that of Egerton; and that is the reason, John, why the parliament has made him change his name. John. I am glad that Master Charles has got the estate, however; for he is a sweet-tempered gentle man. me-loves to hear me talk, too; and I verily be- Enter EGERTON and SIDNEY. Sid. (With a glow of tender friendship.) come, correct this warmth; it is the only weak ingredient in your nature, and you ought to watch it carefully. Because I will not abet an unwarrantable passion by an abuse of my sacred character, in marrying you beneath your rank, and in direct opposition to your father's hopes and happiness, you blame me, you angrily break from me, and call me unkind. Eger. (With tenderness and conviction.) Dear Sidney, for my warmth I stand condemned; but, for my marriage with Constantia, I think I can justify it upon every principle of filial duty, honour, and worldly prudence. Sid. Only make that appear, Charles, and you know you may command me. Eger. (With great filial regret) I am sensible how unseemly it appears in a son to descant on the unamiable passions of a parent; but, as we are alone, and friends, I cannot help observing in my own defence, that when a father will not allow the use of reason to any of his family; when his pursuit of greatness makes him a slave abroad, only to be a tyrant at home; when a narrow partiality to Scotland, on every trivial occasion, provokes him to enmity even with his wife and children, only because they give a national preference where they think it most justly due; and when, merely to gratify his own ambition, he would marry his son into a family he detests; (great warmth) sure, Betty. In the housekeeper's-room, settling the Sidney, a son thus circumstanced, (from the dignity dessert. Give me Mr. Egerton's letter, and I'll of human reason, and the feelings of a loving heart) leave it on the table in his dressing-room: I see it has a right, not only to protest against the blindis from his brother Sandy.-So; now go and de-ness of a parent, but to pursue those measures that liver your letter to your sweetheart, John. virtue and happiness point out. Betty. As ever lived. But come, John; as I know you love Miss Constantia, and are fond of being where she is, I will make you happy; you shall carry this letter to her. John. Shall I, Mrs. Betty? I am very much obliged to you. Where is she? John. That I will; and I am much beholden to you for the favour of letting me carry it to her; for though she should never have me, yet I shall always love her, and wish to be near her, she is so sweet a creature.-Your servant, Mrs. Betty. [Exit. Betty. Your servant, John. Ha, ha, ha! poor fellow, he perfectly doats on her; and daily follows her about with nosegays and fruit, and the first of every thing in the season.-Ay, and my young master, Charles, too, is in as bad a way as the gardener:-in short, everybody loves her, and that's one reason why I hate her. For my part, I wonder what the deuse the men see in her-a creature that was taken in for charity; I'm sure she's not so handsome. I wish she was out of the family once; if she was, I might then stand a chance of being my lady's favourite myself; ay, and perhaps of getting one of my young masters for a sweetheart, or at least the chaplain; but as to him there would be no such great catch if I should get him. I will try for him, however; and my first step shall be to tell the doctor all I have discovered about Constantia's intrigues with her spark at Hadley. Yes, that will do; for the doctor loves to talk with Sid. The violent temper of Sir Pertinax, I own, cannot be defended on many occasions; but stillyour intended alliance with Lord Lumbercourt- Eger. (With great impatience.) O! contemptible!-a trifling, quaint, haughty, voluptuous, ser vile tool! the mere lacquey of party and corruption; who, for the prostitution of nearly thirty years, and the ruin of a noble fortune, has had the despicable satisfaction, and the infamous honour, of being kicked up and kicked down, kicked in and kicked out, just as the insolence, compassion, or convenience of leaders predominated: and now, being forsaken by all parties, his whole political consequence amounts to the power of franking a letter, and the right honourable privilege of not paying a tradesman's bill. Sid. Well, but dear Charles, you are not to wed my lord, but his daughter. Eger. Who is as disagreeable to me for a companion, as her father for a friend or an ally. Sid. What, her Scotch accent, I suppose, offends you. Eger. No, upon my honour, not in the least; I think it cntertaining in her: but, were it other wise, in decency, and indeed in national affection, | gives a servant a bad word, nor that does any one being a Scotchman myself, I can have no objection an ill turn, neither behind their back nor before to her on that account:-besides, she is my near their face. relation. Sid. So I understand. But pray, Charles, how came Lady Rodolpha, who I find was born in England, to be bred in Scotland? Sid. Ha, ha, ha! why, you are a mighty wellspoken woman, Mrs. Betty; and I am mightily beholden to you for your good character of me. Bet. Indeed, it is no more than you deserve, and what all the world and all the servants say of you. Sid. I am much obliged to them, Mrs. Betty; but, pray, what are your commands with me? Eger. From the dotage of an old, formal, obstinate, stiff, rich, Scotch grandmother; who, upon a promise of leaving this grandchild all her fortune, would have the girl sent to her to Scotland, when Betty. Why, I'll tell you, sir;-to be sure, I am she was but a year old; and there has she been but a servant, as a body may say, and every tub ever since, bred up with this old lady, in all the should stand upon its own bottom; but (she looks vanity and unlimited indulgence that fondness and about cautiously)—my young master is now in the admiration could bestow on a spoiled child, a fan-china-room, in close conference with Miss Concied beauty, and a pretended wit: (in a tone of stantia. I know what they are about, but that is friendly affection) and is this a woman fit to make no business of mine; and, therefore, I made bold my happiness? this the partner that Sidney would to listen a little; because, you know, sir, one would recommend to me for life? to you, who best know be sure, before one took away anybody's reputame, I appeal. tion. Sid. Very true, Mrs. Betty; very true, indeed. Betty. O heavens forbid that I should take away any young woman's good name, unless I had a good reason for it; but, sir, (with great solemnity), if I am in this place alive, as I listened with my ear close to the door, I heard my young master ask Miss Constantia the plain marriage question; upon which I started and trembled, nay, my very conscience stirred within me so, that I could not help peeping through the key-hole. Sid. Why, Charles, it is a delicate point, unfit for me to determine; besides, your father has set his heart upon the match. Eger. (Impatiently.) All that I know-but still I ask and insist upon your candid judgment-is she the kind of woman that you think could possibly contribute to my happiness? I beg you will give me an explicit answer. Sid. The subject is disagreeable; but, since I must speak, I do not think she is. Eger. (In a start of friendly rapture.) I know you do not; and I am sure you never will advise Sid. I never will-I never will. [the match Eger. (With a start of joy.) You make me happy! Which, I assure you, I never could be with your judgment against me in this point. Sid. Ha, ha, ha! and so your conscience made you peep through the key-hole, Mrs. Betty? Betty. It did, indeed, sir; and there I saw my young master upon his knees-lord bless us! and what do you think he was doing?-kissing her hand as if he would eat it; and protesting and assuring her he know that you, sir, would consent to the match; and then the tears ran down her cheeks as fast Sid. Ay. Betty. They did indeed. I would not tell your reverence a lie for the world. Sid. I believe it, Mrs. Betty; and what did Constantia say to all this? Sid. But pray, Charles, suppose I had been so indiscreet as to have agreed to marry you to Constantia, would she have consented, think you? Eger. That I cannot say positively; but I suppose so. [ject, then? Sid. Did you never speak to her upon that subEger. In general terms only; never directly requested her consent in form: (he starts into a warmth of amorous resolution) but I will this very Betty. Oh!-Oh! she is sly enough; she looks as moment, for I have no asylum from my father's ar- if butter would not melt in her mouth; but all is bitrary design, but my Constantia's arms. Pray not gold that glitters; smooth water, you know, do not stir from hence; I will return instantly. sir, runs deepest. I am sorry my young master I know she will submit to your advice; and I am makes such a fool of himself; but, um!-take my sure you will persuade her to my wish, as my life, word for it, he is not the man; for, though she my peace, my earthly happiness, depend on my looks as modest as a maid at a christening,-(hesiConstantia. [Exit. tating)-yet-ah!—when sweethearts meet, in the Sid. Poor Charles! he little dreams that I love dusk of the evening, and stay together a whole Constantia too; but to what degree I knew notmy-hour in the dark grove, and embrace, and kiss, and self, till he importuned me to join their hands. weep at parting-why, then, you know, sir, it is Yes, I love; but must not be a rival, for he is dear easy to guess all the rest. to me as fraternal affinity. Enter BETTY. Betty. (Running up to Sidney.) I beg pardon for my intrusion, sir, I hope, sir, I don't disturb your reverence. Sid. Not in the least, Mrs. Betty. Betty. I humbly beg you will excuse me, sir; but I wanted to break my mind to your honour, about a scruple that lies upon my conscience; and indeed I should not have presumed to trouble you, sir, but that I know you are my young master's friend, and my old master's friend, and, indeed, a friend to the whole family; (curtsying very low), for, to give you your due, sir, you are as good a preacher as ever went into a pulpit. Sid. Ha, ha ha! do you think so, Mrs. Betty? Bet. Ay, in truth do I; and as good a gentleman, too, as ever came into a family, and one that never Sid. Why did Constantia meet anybody in this manner? Betty. (Starting with surprise.) O! heavens! I beg, sir, you will not misapprehend me; for I assure you, I do not believe they did any harm; that is, not in the grove; at least not when I was there; and she may be honestly married for aught I know. O! lud, sir, I would not say an ill thing of Miss Constantia for the world. I only say that they did meet in the dark walk; and all the servants observe that Miss Constantia wears her stays very loose, looks very pale, is sick in the morning and after dinner; and, as sure as my name is Betty Hint, something has happened that I won't name; but, nine months hence, a certain person in this family may ask me to stand god-mother; for I think I know what's what, when I see it, as well as another |