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son, protect the ladies. Arm yourself, and follow me; your presence may be important. [Exit. Dom. (Taking down a gun and sword from the wall.) Young ladies, follow me and fear not. Lo! I have armed myself, and will smite lustily in the cause of little Harry. (The gun goes off.) Pro-o-o-digious!

[Exeunt Lucy and Julia, running, Dominie after them, dragging the gun, and awkwardly shouldering the sword.

SCENE III.-The Cavern near the Tower of Derncleugh a broken and lofty entrance at the top, near the back, from which des ends a rugged path- a dark and narrow passage hewn in the rock below.

DIRK HATTERAICK discovered walking up and down in the vault, near the embers of a fire. Enter GILBERT GLOSSIN from the top cautiously with a dark lantern.

Glo. Hist! hist! Hat. Is it you?

Glo. Are you in the dark, my dear Dirk? Hat. Dark? Dark as the devil's mouth, and my fire is out.

Glo. We'll repair it in a trice. (Gathering up some dry sticks, and repairing the fire, which burns up briskly.) It is a cold place, to be sure.

Hat. (Eagerly warming himself.) Cold! snowwater, and hail! It is perdition! And I could only keep myself alive, by walking up and down this infernal hole, and thinking on the merry rouses we have had in it.

Glo. And shall again, boy. (Producing a flask.) See, here's something to warm your heart as well as your limbs.

Hat. Give it to me, give it to me! (Drinks.) Ah! this lights the fire within. I have dreamt of nothing but that damned dead fellow, Kennedy, ever since I've been here.

Glo. Come, come, the cold's at your heart still! take another pull. I left that bull-headed brute of a farmer, refreshing, as he calls it, with the soldiers, and the youngster crosses the heath alone; so, there's an easy trick to be won.

Hat. No, I'd rather fight for it; a few good blows puts a colour upon such a business,-besides, I should like my revenge on that Liddesdale bully for the hard knocks he gave me.

MEG MERRILIES appears through the dark narrow passage, attended by HENRY BERTRAM and DANDIE DINMONT.

Meg. (In a deep whisper to Bertram.) Will you believe me now? You shall hear them attest all I have said-but do not stir till I give the sign. [They retire back. Hat. (Who has been warming himself.) Is Sebastian true, think you?

Glo. True as steel! I fear none of them but old Meg.

Meg. (Stepping forward.) And what d'ye fear from her?

Glo. (Aside.) What fury has brought this hag hither? (To Meg.) Nay, nothing, nothing, my good mother; I was only fearing you might not come here to see our friend, Dirk Hatteraick, before he left us.

Meg. What brings him back with the blood of the Kennedy upon his hands?

Hat. It has dried up, you hag! It has dried up twenty years ago. Meg. It has not! the bottom of this

It cries, night and day, from dungeon to the blue arch of

heaven, and never so loudly as at this moment! And, yet, you proceed, at if your hands were whiter than the lily. Hat. Peace, you foul witch! or I'll make you quiet.

Glo. No violence, no violence against honest Meg! I will show her such good reasons for what we have further to do -you know our purpose, I suppose?

Meg. Yes!-Tomurder an unoffending youth, the heir of Ellangowan. And you, you treacherous

cur! that bit the charitable hand that fed you! Will you again be helping to kidnap your master's son? Beware! I always told ye, evil would come on ye, and in this very cave.

Glo. Hark ye, Meg! we must speak plain to you! My friend, Dick Hatteraick, and I, have made up nothing talking, unless you have a mind to share our minds about this youngster, and it signifies his fate. You were as deep as we in the whole business.

Meg. 'Tis false; You forced me to consent that you should hurry him away, kidnap him, plunder bim; but to murder him was your own device!yours! And it has thriven with you well.

Hat. The old hag has croaked nothing but evil bodings these twenty years. She has been a rocka-head to me all my life.

Meg. I, a rock-a-head! The gallows is your rocka-head.

Hat. Gallows! Ye hag of Satan! the hemp is not sown that shall hang me.

Meg. It is sown, and it is grown, and hackled and twisted. Did I not tell you, that the boy would return in spite of you? Did I not say, the old fire would burn down to a spark, and then blaze up again?

[The party appear on the watch in the narrow passage.

Hat. You did; but all is lost, unless he's now made sure. Ask Glossin else.

Meg. I do; and in the name of heaven, demand, if he will yet forego his foul design against his master's son ?

Glo. What! and give up all to this Brown, or Bertram-this infernal heir-male, that's come back? Never!

Meg. Bear witness, heaven and earth! They have confessed the past deed, and proclaimed their present purpose.

[She throws a little flax, dipped in spirits of wine, on the fire, which blazes up-at this signal Henry Bertram rushes upon Glossin-Dandie Dinmont upon Dirk Hatterick, and masters his swordHatteraick suddenly fires a pistol at Meg, who falls, with a loud scream, into the arms of Dinmont-he then rushes up to the entrance of the cavern, he is met by COLONEL MANNERING and Soldiers, who instantly secure him and Glossin-Servants follow with lights.

Col. (To the Soldiers.) Carry off these villains! we have heard their own tongues seal their guilt, Justice shall do the rest. (Exeunt Soldiers with Glossin and Hatteraick, through the passage.) And look to this unfortunate woman. Hasten, some one, for proper assistance.

Meg. Heed me not-I knew it would be this way, and it hath ended as it ought-Bear me up-let me but see my master's son, let me but behold Henry Bertram, and bear witness to him, and the gipsy vagrant has nothing more to do with life.

Dominie, (Without.) This way, Miss Lucy-this

way!

Where-where is little Harry Bertram? I must behold the infant, the dear child! Enter DOMINIE SAMPSON at the passage, followed by LUCY, JULIA, aud Country People, who range at the back-Dominie rushes forward impatiently. Dom. (Gazing on Bertram.) Beatissime! It is his father alive! It is, indeed, Harry, little Harry Bertram-look at me, my child! do you not remember me, Abel Sampson?

Ber. A light breaks in upon me-Yes, that was, indeed, my name, and that-that is the voice and figure of my kind old master.

Dom. Miss Lucy Bertram, look!-lo! behold!is he not your father's image? Embrace him, and let fall your tears upon a brother's cheek.

Lucy. My brother! my long lost brother restored to his rights! Welcome !-oh! welcome to a sister's love!

owned! he's owned!-There's a living witness, and Meg. (Suddenly raising herself.) Hear ye that! He's here here is one, who will soon speak no more. Hear her last words! There stands Harry Ber. tram-Shout! shout! and acknowledge him Lord of Ellangowan! (The people shout.) My ears grow dull-stand from the light, and let me gaze upon him-no, the darkness is my own eyes.

(Sinks into the arms of Dinmont.

Col. Come hither, some of you-bear her to Woodburne House-let all care be taken of hersupport and bear her gently away, she may yet recover. [Exit Dinmont and Attendants, bearing off Meg.] And now, Mr. Bertram, I hope no misunderstanding will prevent your accepting what I most sincerely offer, my friendship and congratulations, upon your restoration to birth and fortune.

Ber. Colonel Mannering, I accept them most gladly; and if I am not deceived, the wishes of both our hearts may make us not only friends, but brothers. What say you, sister, am I right?

Julia. Oh, she can't speak, so I will. Give Miss Bertram your arm, brother, and here, Henry, is mine; and now, let us go in before we talk more upon the subject.

Re-enter DANLIE DINMONT.

Ber. My hearty friend and brave defender, come! we cannot part with you yet.

Din. I beg pardon of your honour, and these young ladies; but I haven't got my Sunday's suit on, and this coat is rather the worse for the two or three tussles we have had to-day.

Ber. And can that be an objection to him, in whose cause it suffered? You may thank Mr. Dinmont's courage, ladies, for my life and safety. Lucy. Thank him! aye, that we do, and bless him for it.

Din. Eh! and heaven bless you, my bonnie lass, wi' all my heart.

Dom.

(He kisses Lucy, who, alarmed at his boldness, runs back confused.

Prodigious!

Din. Lord's sake forgive me! I ask your pardon, I am sure; I forgot but ye'd been a bairn of my own. The captain here's so homely like! he just makes one forget one's self-and I'm so overjoyed and if the heir of Ellangowan be welcomed here like, at his good fortuneDom. So are we all; (Advancing to the Audience.) too, our joy will be-Prodigious!!!

FINALE AND CHORUS.

Julia. Oh! let your hands assure the youth,
There's nothing now to fear,

For his return is little worth

Unless he's welcomed here.

For there's nae luck about the house,
There's nae luck ava',

There's little pleasure in this house,
When your smiles are awa'.

Chorus.
Ber. The Heir of Ellangowan's fate
Depends upon this night,

For there's nae luck, &c.

If you deny him your support,
He's neither right not might.
For there's nae luck, &c.

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A TRAGEDY, IN THREE ACTS-BY GEORGE LILLO.

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Young W.-"THE WEIGHT OF THIS, TO ME IS SOME INCUMBRANCE."-Act ii, scene 3.

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Ridiculously sad

Enter RANDAL.

Where hast been, Randal?

Rand. Not out of Penryn, sir; but to the strand,

To hear what news from Falmouth since the storm

Of wind last night.

Old W. It was a dreadful one.
Rand. Some found it so.

India,

For such ungrateful wretches, to be crush'd
Beneath the ruin they had help'd to make.

That you, more good than wise, refus'd to leave

me.

Rand. May I beseech you, sir

Old W. With my distress,

In perfect contradiction to the world,

Thy love, respect, and diligence, increas'd.
Now, all the recompense within my power,

A noble ship from Is to discharge thee, Randal, from my hard,

Ent'ring the harbour, run upon a rock,
And there was lost.

Old W. What came of those on board her?

Rand. Some few are sav'd; but much the greater

part,

'Tis thought are perish'd.

Old W. They are past the fear

Of future tempests, or a wreck on shore:
Those who escap'd, are still expos'd to both.
Where's your mistress?

Rand. I saw her pass the High-street, t'wards the
Minster.

Old W. She's gone to visit Charlotte. She doth
well!

In the soft bosom of that gentle maid,
There dwells more goodness than the rigid race
Of moral pedants e'er believ'd, or taught.
With what amazing constancy and truth
Doth she sustain the absence of our son,

Unprofitable service.

Rand. Heaven forbid!

Shall I forsake you in your worst necessity?
Believe me, sir, my honest soul abhors
The barb'rous thought!

Old W. What! canst thou feed on air?

I have not left wherewith to purchase food
For one meal more!

Rand. Rather than leave you thus,
I'll beg my bread, and live on others' bounty,
While I serve you.

Old W. Down, down, my swelling heart,
Or burst in silence! 'Tis thy cruel fate
Insults thee by his kindness. He is innocent
Of all the pain it gives thee. Go thy ways:
I will no more suppress thy youthful hopes
Of rising in the world.

Rand. 'Tis true, I'm young,

And never try'd my fortune, or my genius,
Which may, perhaps, find out some happy means,

Whom more than life she loves! How shun for As yet unthought of, to supply your wants.

Whom we shall ne'er see more, the rich and

him,
great,

Who own her charms, and sigh to make her
happy!

Since our misfortunes we have found no friend,
None who regarded our distress, but her;
And she, by what I have observ'd of late,
Is wearied, or exhausted. Curs'd condition!
To live a burden to one only friend,

And blast her youth with our prodigious woe!
Who, that had reason, soul, or sense, would bear it
A moment longer? Then, this honest wretch!
I must dismiss him. Why should I detain
A grateful, gen'rous youth, to perish with me?
His service may procure him bread elsewhere,
Though I have none to give him. Pr'ythee, Ran-
dal,

How long hast thou been with me?

Rand. Fifteen years.

I was a very child when first ye took me
To wait upon your son, my dear young master.
I oft have wish'd I'd gone to India with him,
Though you, desponding, give him o'er for lost.
(Old Wilmot uipes his eyes.)
I am to blame: this talk revives your sorrow
For his long absence,

Old W. That cannot be reviv'd

Which never died.

Rand. The whole of my intent

Was to confess your bounty, that supplied
The loss of both my parents: I was long

The object of your charitable care.

Old W. No more of that: thou'st served me
longer since

Without reward; so that account is balanced,
Or, rather, I'm the debtor. I remember,
When poverty began to shew her face

Within these walls, and all my other servants,
Like pamper'd vermin from a falling house,
Retreated with the plunder they had gain'd,
And left me, too indulgent and remiss

Old W. Thou tortur'st me! I hate all obliga-
tions

Which I can ne'er return. And who art thou,
That I should stop to take 'em from thy hand?
Care for thyself, but take no thought for me.
I will not want thee: trouble me no more!
Rand. Be not offended, sir, and I will go.
I ne'er repined at your commands before!
But heaven's my witness, I obey you now,
With strong reluctance, and a heavy heart.
Farewell, my worthy master!

Old W. Farewell! Stay;

(Going.)

As thou art yet a stranger to the world,
Of which, alas! I've had too much experience;
I should, methinks, before we part, bestow
A little counsel on thee. Dry thy eyes:
If thou weep'st thus, I shall proceed no farther.
Dost thou aspire to greatness or to wealth?
Quit books, and the unprofitable search
Of wisdom there, and study humankind:
No science will avail thee without that;
But that obtain'd, thou need'st not any other.
This will instruct thee to conceal thy views,
And wear the face of probity and honour,
Till thou hast gain'd thy end: which must be

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Is this the man I thought so wise and just?
What, teach and counsel me to be a villain?
Sure, grief has made him frantic, or some flend
Assum'd his shape. I shall suspect my senses.
High-minded he was ever, and improvident,
But pitiful and generous, to a fault.
Pleasure he loved, but honour was his idol.
Oh, fatal change! Oh, horrid transformation!
So a majestic temple, sunk to ruin,

Becomes the loathsome shelter and abode

Of lurking serpents, toads, and beasts of prey;
And scaly dragons hiss, and lions roar,

Where wisdom taught, and music charm'd before.

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Char. (Finds a letter.) What's this? A letter superscrib'd to me;

None could convey it here but you, Maria.
Ungen'rous, cruel maid! to use me thus!
To join with flatt'ring men to break my peace,
And persecute me to the last retreat!

Mar. Why should it break your peace to hear the sighs

Of honourable love? This letter is-

Char. No matter whence: return it back unopen'd:

I have no love, no charms, but for my Wilmot,
Nor would have any.

Mar. Alas! Wilmot's dead!

Or, living, dead to you.

Char. I'll not despair: patience shall cherish hope;

Nor wrong his honour by unjust suspicion.
I know his truth, and will preserve my own.
But, to prevent all future importunity,
Know, thou incessant foe to my repose,
Whether he sleeps secure from mortal cares,
In the deep bosom of the boist'rous main,
Or, toss'd with tempest, still endures its rage,
No second choice shall violate my vows;
High heaven, which heard them, and abhors the
perjur'd,

Can witness, they were made without reserve.
Never to be retracted, n'er dissolv'd

By accident or absence, time or death.

Mar. And did your vows oblige you to support His haughty parents, to your utter ruin? Well may you weep to think on what you've done. Char. I weep to think that I can do no morə For their support. What will become of them? The hoary, helpless, miserable pair!

Mar. What I can't praise, you force me to admire,

And mourn for you, as you lament for them.
Your patience, constancy, and resignation,
Merit a better fate.

Char. So pride would tell me,

And vain self-love, but I believe them not:
And if, by wanting pleasure, I have gain'd
Humility, I'm richer for my loss.

Mar. You have the heavenly art still to improve Your mind by all events. But here comes one, Whose pride seems to increase with her misfor

tunes.

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