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A darker and more silent hour, to break Just as they are separating, enter, from the Wood
Into the chamber where they think thou sleep'st. LORD RANDOLPH and GLENALYON
This moment, this, heaven hath ordain'd to save
thee!

Lord R. Not in her presence.

Now-
Fly to the camp, my son!
Doug. And leave you here?

Glen. I'm prepared.
No: to the castle let us go together,

Lord R. No; I command thee, stav. Call up the ancient servants of your house,

I go alone: it never shall be said

That I took odds to combat mortal man.
Who in their youth did eat your father's bread;
Then tell them loudly, that I am your son.

The noblest vengeance is the most complete. If in the breasts of men one spark' remains

[Erik Of sacreu love, fidelity, or pity,

[GLENALVON makes some steps to the same Some in your cause will arm. I ask but few

side of the stage, listens, and speaks. To drive these spoilers from my father's house.

Glen. Demons of death, come settle on my sword Lady R. Oh, nature, nature! what can check The lover

and the husband both must die.

And to a double slaughter guide it home! thy force? Thou genuine offspring of the daring Douglas !

Lord R. (Without.) Draw, villain! draw! But rush not on destruction: save thyself,

Doug: [Without.) Assail me not, Lord Rann And I am safe. To me they mean no harm.

dolph; Thy stay but risks thy precious life in vain.

Not as thou lov'st thyself. (Clashing of swords. That winding path conducts thee to the river.

Glen. (Running out.] Now is the time. Cross where thou seest a broad and beaten way, Enter Lady RANDOLPH, at the opposite side of Which, running eastward, leads thee to the camp.

the stage, faint and breathless. Instant demand admittance to lord Douglas : Show him these jewels which his brother wore.

Lady R. Lord Randolph, hear me: all shall be

thine own! Thy look, thy voice, will make him feel the truth,

But spare! Oh, spare my son! Which I by certain proof will soon confirm.

Enter Douglas, with a sword in each hand.
Doug. I yield me, and obey : but yet my heart
Bleeds at this parting. Something bids me stay,

Doug. My mother's voice !
And guard a mother's life. Oft have I read I can protect thee still.
Of wondrous deeds by one bold arm achiev'd. Lady R. He lives ! he lives!
Our foes are two; no more: let me go forth,

For this, for this, to heaven, eternal praise !
And see if any shield can guard Glenalvon.

But sure I saw thee fall. Lady R. If thou regard'st thy mother, or re

Doug. It was Glenalvon. ver'st

Just as my arm had master'd Randolph's sword, Thy father's memory, think of this no more.

The villain came behind me; but I slew him. One thing I have to say before we part:

Lady R. Behind thee! ah ! thou art wounded! Long wert thou lost; and thou art found, my child, How pale thou look'st! and shall I lose thee now?

Oh, my child, In a most fearful season, War and battle I have great cause to dread. Too well I see Doug. Do not despair: I feel a little faintners, Which way the current of thy temper sets .

I hope it will not last. (Leans upon his sword. To-day I have found thee. Oh! my long-lost

Lady R. There is no hope ! hope!

And we must part ! the hand of death is on thee! If thou to giddy valour giv'st the rein,

Oh! my beloved child ! O Douglas, Douglas ! To-morrow I may lose my son for ever.

(Douglas growing more and more faird. The love of thee, before thou saw'st the light,

Doug. Oh! had I fallen as my brave fathers fell, Sustain'd my life when thy brave father fell.

Turning with fatal arm the tide of battle, If thou shalt fall, I have nor love nor hope

Like them I should have smild and welcom'd In this waste world! My son, remember me!

death; Doug. What shall I say? How can I give you But thus to perish by a villain's hand! comfort ?

Cut off from nature's and from glory's course, The God of battles of my life dispose

Which never mortal was so fond to run. As may be best for you! for whose dear sake

Lady R. Hear, justice, bear! stretch thy arengI will not bear myself as I resolv'd.

ing arm!

(Douglas falls. But yet consider, as no vulgar name,

Doug. Unknown I die; no tongue shall speak That which I boast, sounds among martial men, How will inglorious caution suit my claim?

Some noble spirits, judging by themselves, The post of fate unshrinking I maintain. May yet conjecture what I might have pror'd, My country's foes must witness who I am. And think life only wanting to my fame: On the invaders' heads I'll prove my birth,

But who shall comfort thee? 'Till friends and foes confess the genuine strain.

Lady R. Despair, despair' If in this strife I fall, blame not your son,

Doug. Oh, had it pleas'd high Heaven to let Who, if he live not honour'd, must not live.

me live Lady R. I will not utter what my bosom feels. A little while ! -my eyes that gaze on thee Too well I love that valour which I warn. Grow dim apace! my mother-O! my mother! Farewell, my son, my counsels are but vain, (Dies; LADY RANDOLPH faints upon the body

[They embrace.

Enter LORD RANDOLPH and Anna. And as high heaven hath will'd it

, all must be.

(They separate. Lord R. Thy words, thy words of truth, have Craze not on me, thou wilt mistake the path;

pierc'd my heart: «'ll point it out again.

(Ereunt. I I am the stain of knighthood and of arms.

of me.

Oh! if my brave deliverer survives

Though slain and baffled by the hand he hated. The traitor's sword

Foaming with rage and fury to the last. Anna. Alas! look there, my lord.

Cursing his conqueror, the felon died. Lord R. The mother and her son! How curs'd am I!

Re-enter ANNA. Was I the cause? No: I was not the cause. Anna. My lord ! my lord ! Yon matchless villain did seduce my soul

Lord R. Speak : I can hear of horror. To frantic jealousy.

Anna. Horror, indeed! Anna. My lady lives :

Lord R. Matilda ! The agony of grief hath but suppressid

Anna. Is no more : Awhile her powers.

She ran, she flew like lightning up the hill: Lord R. But my deliverer 's dead !

Nor halted till the precipice she gain'd, Lady R. (Recovering:) Where am I now? Beneath whose lowering top the river falls Still in this wretched world?

Ingulf'd in rifted rocks : thither she came, Grief cannot break a heart so hard as mine. As fearless as the eagle lights upon it, Lord R. Oh, misery!

And headlong down Amidst thy raging grief I must proclaim

Lord R. "I was I, alas ! 'twas I My innocence.

That fill'd her breast with fury; drove her down Lady R. Thy innocence!

The precipice of death! Wretch that I am! Lord R. My guilt

Anna. Oh, had you seen her last despairing look! (s innocence compar'd with what thou think'st it. Upon the brink she stood, and cast her eyes

Lady R. Of thee I think not; what have I to do Down on the deep: then, lifting up her head
With thee, or any thing? My son! my son! And her white hands to heaven, seeming to say,
My beautiful! my brave! how proud was I Why am I forc'd to this ? she plung'd herself
of thee and of thy valour! my fond heart Into the empty air.
O'erflow'd this day with transport

, when I thought Lord R. I will not vent, Of growing old amidst a race of thine.

In vain complaints, the passion of my soul. Now all my hopes are dead! A little while Peace in this world I never can enjoy. Was I a wife! a mother not so long!

These wounds the gratitude of Randolph gave; What am I now ?- know-but I shall be They speak aloud, and with the voice of fate That only whilst I please; for such a son Denounce my doom. I am resolv'd. I'll go And such a husband drive me to my fate. Straight to the battle, where the man that makes

[Erit, running. Me turn aside, must threaten worse than death. Lord R. Follow her, Anna: "I myself would Thou, faithful to thy mistress, take this ring, follow,

Full warrant of my power. Let every rite But in this rage she must abhor my presence. With cost and pomp upon their funerals wait:

Exit Anna. For Randolph hopes he never shall return. Curs’d, curs'd Glenalvon, he escap'd too well,

[The curtain descends slowly to musu, Vol. I...,Y 15

TIE INCONSTANT:

OR,

THE WAY TO WIN HIM :

A OOMEDY,

IN FIVE ACTS.

BY GEORGE FARQUHAR, Esq.

REMARKS This lively and entertaining comedy was first acted at Drury Lane in 1702. In his preface, the author observed that he took the hint from Beaumont and Fletcher's Wild Goose Chase, though, in fact, the main plot and several entire scenes were borrowed from that eccentric piece.

The catastrophe of the last act, where Young Mirabel is delivered from the bravoes by the care of Oriana, die guised as his page, was supposed to owe its origin to a similar affair, in which Farquhar himself had some conicera when on military duty in France, where the scene is laid.

There are still some over-wrought passages in this play, and some improbabilities, almost beyond the pale of that license so liberally allowed to works of imagination: it is still, however, a great favourite.

The inimitable performance of Bisarre, by Mrs. Jordon, and of Duretete, by Mr. John Bannister, will long be remembered with delight.

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ACT I.

Pet. How many will there be of you, Sir ? SCENE I.-The Street.

Dug. Let me see; Mirabel one, Duretete two, Enter DUGARD and his man Petit, in riding

myself three

Pet. And I four. habits.

Dug. How now, Sir! at your old travelling Dug. Sirrah, what's a clock ?

familiarity! When abroad, you had some freedom Pet. Turned of eleven, Sir.

for want of better company; but, among my Dug. No more! We have rid a swinging pace friends at Paris, pray remember your distance from Nemours since two this morning ! Petit, run Be gone, Sir-(Exit Petit.) This fellow's wit bo Rousseau's, and bespeak a dinner at a louis-d'or was necessary abroad, but he's too cunning for a a head, to be ready by one.

domestic; I must dispose of him some way else. ·

Je?

Who's here ? Old Mirabel and my sister! my louis-d'or a head ! 'tis enoug) to stock the whole dearest sister!

nation with bastards; 'tis, faith. Mr. Dugaid, I leave you with your sister.

TEžit. Enter OLD MIRABEL and ORIANA.

Dug. Well, sister, I need not ask you how Ori. My brother! Welcome.

you do, your looks resolve me; fair, tall, well Dig. Monsieur Mirabel! I'm heartily glad to shaped; you're almost grown out of my rememsee you.

brance. Old Mir. Honest Mr. Dugard, by the blood

Ori. Why truly, brother, I look pretty well, of the Mirabels, I'm your most humble servant.

thank nature and my toilet; I eat three meals a Dug. Why, Sir, you've cast your skin sure, day, am very merry when up, and sleep soundly you're brisk and gay, lusty health about you, no when I'm down. sigr. of age but your silver hairs.

Dug. But, sister, you remember that upon my Old Mir. Silver hairs! Then they are quick- going abroad you would choose this old gentle silver hairs, Sir. Whilst I have golden pockets, man for your guardian; he's no more related to let my hairs be silver an they will." Adsbud, Sir

, our family than Prester John, and I have no rea I can dance, and sing, and drink, and—no, I son to think you mistrusted my management of can't wench. But, Mr. Dugard, no news of my your fortune : therefore, pray be so kind as to tell son Bob in all your travels ?

me, without reservation, the true cause of making Dug. Your son 's come home, Sir.

such a choice. Old Mir. Come home! Bob come home! By Ori. Lookye, brother, you were going a ram the blood of the Mirabels, Mr. Dugard, what say bling, and 'twas proper, lest I should go a rambling

too, that somebody should take care of me, Old Ori. Mr. Mirabel returned, Sir ?

Monsieur Mirabel is an honest gentleman, was Dug. He's certainly come, and you may see

our father's friend, and has a young lady in this him within this hour or two.

house whose company I like, and who has chosen Old Mir. Swear it, Mr. Dugard, presently him for her guardian as well as I. swear it.

Dug. Who, Mademoiselle Bisarre ? Dug. Sir, he came to town with me this Ori. The same; we live merrily together, withmorning; I left him at the Bagnieurs, being a

out scandal or reproach; we make much of the little disordered after riding, and I shall see him old gentleman between us; and he takes care of again presently.

us; we eat what we like, go to bed when we Old Mir. What! and he was ashamed to ask please, rise when we will, all the week we dance a blessing with his boots on. A nice dog! Well, and sing, and upon Sundays go first to church, and how fares the young rogue ? ha ?

and then to the play:--Now, brother, besides Dug. A fine gentleman, Sir. He'll be his these motives for choosing this gentleman for my own messenger.

guardian, perhaps I had some private reasons. Old Mir. A fine gentleman! But is the rogue

Dug. Not so private as you imagine, sister; like me still?

your love to young Mirabel is no secret, I can Dug. Why yes, Sir; he's very like his mo assure you; but so public that all your friends are ther, and as like you as most modern sons are to ashamed on't. their fathers.

Ori. O’my word, then my friends are very bashOld Mir. Why, Sir, don't you think that I ful; though I'm afraid, Sir, that those people are begat him?

not ashamed enough at their own crimes, who Dug: Why yes, Sir; you married his mother, have so many blushes to spare for the faults of and he inherits your estate. He's very like you, their neighbours. upon my word.

Dug. Ay but, sister, the people sayOri. And pray, brother, what's become of his Ori. Pshaw, hang the people; their court of honest companion, Duretete ?

inquiry is a tavern, and their informer claret ; they Dug. Who, the captain? The very same he think as they drink, and swallow reputations like went abroad; he's the only Frenchman I ever loaches: a lady's health goes briskly round with knew that could not change. Your son, Mr. the glass, but her honour is lost in the toast. Mirabel, is more obliged to nature for that fellow's Dug. Ay; but, sister, there is still somethingcomposition than for his own; for he's more

Ori. If there be something, brother, 'tis none happy in Duretete's folly than his own wit. Ir of the people's something; marriage is my thing, short, they are as inseparable as finger and thumb; and I'll stick to't. but the first instance in the world, I believe, of Dug. Marriage ! Young Mirable marry! He'll opposition in friendship.

build churches sooner. Take heed, sister, though Old Mir. Very well : will he be home to din- your honour stood proof to his home-bred assaulis, ner, think ye?

you must keep a stricter guard for the future: he Dug. Sir, he has ordered me to bespeak a has now got the foreign air, and the Italian softdinner for us at Rousseau's, at a louis-d'or a ness; his wit's improved by converse, his behaviour head.

finished by observation, and his assurances conOld Mir. A louis-d'or a head! Well said, firmed by success. Sister, I can assure you he Bob; by the blood of the Mirabels, Bob's im- has made his conquests; and 'tis a plague upon proved. But Mr. Dugard, was it so civil of Bob your sex, to be the soonest deceived by those very to visit Monsieur Rousseau before his own men that you know have been false to others. natural father, eh? Harkye, Oriana, what think Ori. For heaven's sake, brother, tell me no you now of a fellow that can eat and drink ye a more of his faults; for if you do, I shall run mad whole louis-d'or at a sitting? He must be as for him: say no more, Sir; let me but get him strong as Hercules, life and spirit in abundance. into the bands of matrimony, I'll spoil his wanderBefore Gad, I don't wonder at these men of ing, I warrant him; I'll lo his business that way, quality, that their own wives can't serve 'em. Al never fear.

Dig. Well, sister. I won't pretend to under- Mir. The women of England were excellent, stand the engagements between you and your did they not take such insufferable pains to ruin lover; I expect when you have need of my council what nature has made so incomparably well. But or assistance, you will let me know more of your come, Duretete, let us mind the business in hand; affairs. Mirabel is a gentleman, and, as far as mistresses we must have, and must take up with my honour and interest can reach, you may com- the manufacture of the place, and upon a compemand me to the furtherance of your happiness: in tent diligence we shall find those in Paris shall the meantime, sister, I have a great mind to make match the Italians from top to toe. you a present of another humble servant; a fellow Dur. Ay, Mirabel, you will do well enough, that I took up at Lyons, who has served me honest but what will become of your friend ? you know ly ever since.

I am so plaguy bashful, so naturally an ass upon Ori. Then why will you part with him? these occasions, that, Dug. He has gained so insufferably on my Mir. Pshaw, you must be bolder, man: travel good humour, that he's grown too familiar; but three years, and bring home such a baby as bash the fellow's cunning, and may be serviceable to fulness ! A great lusty fellow! and a soldier! fie you in your affair with Mirabel. Here he comes. upon it.

Dur. Lnokye, Sir, I can visit, and I can ogle Enter Petit.

a little--as thus, or thus now-but if they chance Well, Sir, have you been at Rousseau's ? to give me a forbidding look, as some women, you

Pet. Yes, Sir, and who should I find there but know, have a devilish cast with their eyes or if Mr. Mirabel and the captain, hatching as warmly they cry-what d'ye mean? what d'ye take me over a tub of ice, as two hen pheasants over a for? Fie, Sir, remember who I am Sir-A brood.—They would not let me bespeak any person of quality to be used at this rate ! 'egad, thing, for they had dined before I came.

I'm struck as flat as a frying pan. Dug. Come, Sir, you shall serve my sister; I Mir. Words o'course! never mind 'em : turn shall still continue kind to you. Wait on your you about upon your heel with a jantee air; bum lady home, Petit.

[Exit. ( out the end of an old song; cut a cross caper, and Þet. A chair, a chair, a chair!

at her again. Ori. No, no, I'll walk home, 'tis but next Dur. (Imitates him.) No, hang it, twill never door.

(Ezit. do.-Oons, what did my father mean by sticking SCENE II.-A Tavern.

me up in a university, or to think that I should MIRABEL and DURETETE rise from the table.

gain any thing by my head, in a nation whose Mir. Welcome to Paris once more, my dear come to have children of my own, they shall have

genius lies all in their heels ? -Well, if ever I captain; we have eat heartily, drank roundly, the education of the country; they shall learn to paid plentifully, and let it go for once. I liked dance before they can walk, and be taught to sing every thing but our women, they looked so lean before they can speak. and tawdry, poor creatures ! 'tis a sure sign the army is not paid. —Give me the plump Venetian, mour; put on assurance, there's no avoiding it;

Mir. Come, come, throw off that childish hubrisk and sanguine, that smiles upon me like the stand 'all hazards, thou’rt a stout lusty fellow, and glowing sun, and meets my lips like sparkling hast a good estate ; look bluff, Hector, you have a wine, her person shining as the glass, and spirit good side-box face, a pretty impudent face; so, like the foaming liquor, Dur. Ah, Mirabel, Italy, I grant you; but for an ox, and is returned like an ass.

that 's pretty well. This fellow went abroad liko

(Aside our women here in France, they are such thin

Dur. Let me see now how I look. [Pulls ous brawn-fallen jades.

a pocket-glass, and looks on it.) A side-box Mir. There's nothing on this side the Alps face, say you ?-_'Esad, I don't like it, Mirabel.worth my humble service 'tye-Ha, Roma la Fie, Sir, don't above your friends. I could not santa! Italy for my money; their customs, gar- wear such a face or the best countess in Christen: dens, buildings, paintings, music, polices, wine, dom. and women! the paradise of the world ;-not Mir. Why an't you, blockhead, as well as 1! pestered with a parcel of precise old gouty fellows, Dur. Wbr thou hast impudence to set a good that would debar their children every pleasure face upon any thing; I would change half my that they themselves are past the sense of; com- gold for ha'i thy brass, with all my heart. Who mend me to the Italian familiarity: Here, son, comes here? Odso, Mirabel, your father ? there 's fifty crowns; go pay your girl her week's allowance.

Enter OLD MIRABEL. Dur. Ay, these are your fathers for you, that Old Mir, Where's Bob? dear Bob? anderstand the necessities of young men; not like Mir. Your blessing, Sir. our musty dads, who, because they cannot fish Old Mir. My blessing! Damn ye, ye young themselves, would muddy the water, and spoil the rogue; why did not you come to see your father sport of them that can. But now you talk of the first, Sirrah? My dear boy, I am heartily glad to plump, what d'ye think of a Dutch woman ? see thee, my dear child, faith-Captain Duretete,

Mir. A Dutch woman's too compact; nay, by the blood of the Mirabels, I'm yours—well, my every thing among them is so; a Dutch man is lads, ye look bravely, faith.—Bob, hast got any thick, a Dutch woman is squab, a Dutch horse is money left? round, a Dutch dug is short, a Dutch ship is Mir. Not a farthing, Sir. broad-bottomed; and, in short, one would swear Old Mir. Why, then, I won't gi' thee a sous. the whole product of the country were cast in the Mir. I did but jest, here's ten pistoles. mame mould with their cheeses.

Old Mir. Why, then here's ten more; I love Dur. Ay, but, Mirabel, you have forgot the to be charitable to those that don't want it :English ladies.

Well, and how d'ye like Italy, my boys ?

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