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His confidence amazes me-Perhaps

Were famine not as raortel as the sword, It is not what he says-I'm strongly tempted Your warmth might be excus'd-But take thy To open it and see-No, let it rest.

choice; Why should my curiosity excite me

Die how you will, you shall not die alcno.
To search and pry into th' affairs of others, Agn. Nor live, I hope.
Who have, t'employ my thoughts, so many cares O. Wil. There is no fear of that.
And sorrows of my own ?- With how much ease Agn. Then, we'll live both.
The spring gives way Surprising!

0. Wil. Strange folly! where the means ? My eyes are dazzled, and my ravish'd heart Agn. There those jewels Leaps at the glorious sight-How bright's the O. Wil. Ah-Take heed !lustre,

Perhaps thou dost but try me; yet take heedHow immense the worth of these fair jewels ? There's nought so monstrous but the mind of Ay, such a treasure would expel for ever Base poverty, and all its abject train;

In some conditions may be brought t'approve; Famine; the cold neglect of friends;

Theft, sacrilege, treason, and parricide, The galling scorn or more provoking pity When flatt'ring opportunity entic'd, Of an insulting world-Possess'd of these, And desperation drove, have been committed Plenty, content, and power might take their turn, By those who once would start to hear them And lofty pride bare its aspiring head

nam'd. At our approach, and once more bend before us. Agn. And add to these detested suicide, A pleasing dream! 'Tis past; and now I wake. Which, by a crime much less, we may avoid. For sure it was a happiness to think,

0. Wil. The inhospitable murder of our guest ! Though but a moment, such a treasure mine. How could'st thou form a thought so very damnNay, it was more than thought-I saw and

ing, touched

So advantageous, 50 secure, and easy; The bright temptation, and I see it yet

And yet so cruel, and so full of horror ? 'Tis here—'tis mine- 1 have it in possession Agn. 'Tis less impiety, less against nature, Must I resign it? Must I give it back ?

To take another's life than end our own. And I, in love with misery and want,

0. Wil. No matter which, the less or greater To rob myself, and court so vast a loss?

crime: Retain it then-But how ?- There is a way, Howe'er we may deceive ourselves or others, Why sinks my heart? Why does my blood run We act from inclination, not by rule, cold?

Or none could act amiss. And that all err,
Why am I thrill'd with horror ?—'Tis not choice, None but the conscious hypocrite denies.
But dire necessity, suggests the thought. O! what is man, his excellence and strength,

When in an hour of trial and desertion,
Enter OLD WILMOT.

Reason, his noblest power, may be suborn'd O. Wil. The mind contented, with how little To plead the cause of vile assassination. pains

Agn. You're too severe : reason may justly The wand'ring senses yield to soft repose,

plead
And die to gain new life ? He's fallen asleep For our own preservation.
Already, happy man !-What dost thou think, O. Wil. Rest contented :
My Agnés, of our unexpected guest?

Whate'er resistance I may seem to make,
He seems to me a youth of great humanity: I am betray'd within : my will's

seduc'd, Just ere he clos'd his eyes, that swam in tears, And my whole soul infected. The desire He wrung my hand and press'd it to his lips; Of life returns, and brings with it a train And with a look that pierc'd me to the soul, Of appetites, that rage to be supplied. Begged me to comfort thee: and—dost thou Whoever stands to parley with temptation, hear me?

Parleys to be o'ercome.
What art thou gazing on ?-Fie, 'tis not well Agn. Then nought remains,
This casket was delivered to you closed :

But the swift execution of a deed
Why have you open'd it? Should this be known, That is not to be thought on or delay'd.
How mean must we appear ?

0. Wil. Generous, unhappy man! O! what Agr.. And who shall know it?

could move thee 0. Wil. There is a kind of pride, a decent To put thy life and fortune in the hands dignity,

Of wretches mad with anguish. Due to ourselves; which, spite of our misfor Agn. By what means tunes,

Shall we effect his death? May be maintain'd, and cherish'd to the last. 0. Wil. Why, what a fiend ! To live without reproach and without leave How cruel, how remorse and impatient, To quit the world,

shows sovereign contempt, Have pride and poverty made thee? And noble scorn of its relentless malice.

Agn. Barbarous man!
Agn. Shows sov'reign madness, and a scorn of Whose wasteful riots ruin'd our estates,

And drove our son, ere the first down had spread Pursue no farther this detested theme:

His rosy cheeks, spite of my sad presages, I will not die, I will not leave the world

Earnest entreaties, agonies, and tears, For all that you can urge, until compellid. To seek his bread 'mongst strangers, and to perisa 0. Wil. To chase a shadow, when the setting In some remote, inhospitable landsun,

The loveliest youth, in person and in mind, Is darting his last rays, were just as wise, That ever crown'd a groaning mother's pains! As your anxiety for fleeting life,

Where was thy pity, where thy patience then, Now the last means for its support are failing : Thou cruel husband! thou unnat'ral father! VOL. I.

2

sense.

Thou most remorseless, most ungrateful man! Stop, hold thy hand l-Inconstant, wretched wo To waste my fortune, rob me of my son ;

man ! To drive me to despair, and then reproach me What! doth my heart recoil ?—0, Wilmot! WilFor being what thou'st made me.

mot! 0. Wil. Dry thy tears :

What power shall I invoke to aid thee, Wilmot I ought not to reproach thee. I confess

[Scene closes That thou hast suffer'd much : so have we hoth. But chide no more; l'm wrought up to thy purpose.

SCENE III.-Another Room. The poor, ill-fated, unsuspecting victim,

Enter Charlotte, EUSTACE, and RANDAL
Ere he reclin'd him on the fatal couch,
From which he's ne'er to rise, took off the sash Char. What strange neglect! The doors are
And costly dagger that thou saw'st him wear ;

all unbarr'd,
And thus, unthinking, furnish'd us with arms And not a living creature to be seen.
Against himself. Steal to the door,
And bring me word, if he be still asleep.

Enter Old Wilmot and AGNES.

(Erit Agnes. Sir we are come to give and to receive Or l'm deceived, or he pronounc'd himself A thousand greetings.—Ha! what can this mean? The happiest of mankind. Deluded wretch! Why do you look with such amazement on us ? Thy thoughts are perishing, thy youthful joys, Are these your transports for your son's return? Touch'd by the icy hand of grisly death, Where is my Wilmot ? Has he not been bere Are with'ring in their bloom. But, thought ex- Would he defer your happiness so long; tinguish'd,

Or, could a habit so disguise your son,
He'll never know the loss, nor feel the bitter That you refus'd to own him ?
Pangs of disappointment. Then I was wrong Agn. Heard you that?
In counting him a wretch: to die well pleas'd, What prodigy of horror is disclosing,
Is all the happiest of mankind can hope for. To render murder venial !
To be a wretch, is to survive the loss

0. Wil. Pr’ythee, peace : Of every joy, and even hope itself,

The miserable damn'd suspend their howling, As I have done. Why do I mourn him then ? And the swift orbs are fix'd in deep attention. For, by the anguish of my tortur'd soul,

Ran. What mean these dreadful words and He's to be envied, if compar'd with me. (Erit.

frantic air!

That is the dagger my young master wore. SCENE II.-A Room, with Young Wilmot Eus. My mind misgives me. Do not stand to asleep upon a Bed, in the distance.

gaze Enter OLD WILMOT and AGNES.

On these dumb phantoms of despair and horror :

Let us search farther : Randal, show the way. Agn. The stranger sleeps at present; but so (Exeunt RANDAL, EUSTACE, and CHARLOTTE restless

Agn. Let life forsake the earth, and light the His slumbers seem, they can't continue long.

sun, Here, I've secur'd his dagger.

And death and darkness bury in oblivion 0. Wil. O, Agnes ! Agnes ! if there be a hell, Mankind and all their deeds, that no postenty

May ever rise to hear our horrid tale, We should expect it.

Or view the grave of such detested parricides. Goes to take the dagger, lets it fall. 0. Wil. Curses and deprecations are in vain. Agn. Shake off this panic, and be more your. The sun will shine and all things have theu self.

course, 0. Wil. What's to be done? On what had When we the curse and burden of the earth, we determin'd ?

Shall be absorbid and mingled with its dust. Agn. You're quite dismay'd.

Our guilt and desolation must be told, (Takes up the dagger. From age to age, to teach desponding mortals, 0. Wil. Give me the fatal steel.

How far beyond the reach of human thought 'Tis but a single murder :

Heaven, when incens'd, can punish.—Die thou Necessity, impatience and despair,

first.

(Stabs AGNES The three wide mouths of that true Cerberus, I dare not trust thy weakness. Grim Poverty, demand ;-they shall be stopp'd. Agn. Ever kind, Ambition, persecution, and revenge,

But most in this! Derour their millions daily : and shall I

0. Wil. I will not long survive thee. Bat follow me, and see how little cause

Agn. Do not accuse thy erring mother, Wilmot! You had to think there was the least remain With two much rigour, when we meet above. Of manhood, pity, mercy, or remorse,

To give thee life for life, and blood for blood, Left in this savage breast.

Is not enough. Had I ten thousand lives, (Going the wrong way. I'd give them all to speak my penitence, Agn. Where do you go?

Deep, and sincere, and equal to my crime. The street is that way.

Oh, Wilmot ! oh, my son! my son! [Dias 0. Wil. True, I had forgot. Agn. Quite, quite confounded.

Enter Randal and EUSTACE. 0. Wil. Well, I recover.

Eust. Oh, Wilmot ! Wilmot!
I shall find the way. [Retires towards the bed. Are these the fruits of all thy anxious cares
Agn. O, softly! softly! The least noise undoes For thy ungrateful parents ?>Cruel fiends!

0. Wil. What whining fool art thou, who What are we doing? Misery and want

would'st usurp. are lighter ills than this! I cannot bear it! My sovereign right of grief?—Was he thy son ?

'tis just

us.

Say! canst thou show thy hands reeking with | A thousand ages hence, I then should suffer blood,

Much less than I deserve. Yet let me say, That flow'd, through purer channels, from thy You'll do but justice, to inform the world, loins ?

This horrid deed, that punishes itself, Compute the sands that bound the spacious ocean, Was not intended, thinking him our son; And swell their numbers with a single grain; For that we knew not, 'till it was too late. Increase the noise of thunder with thy voice; Proud and impatient under our afflictions, Or, when the raging wind lays nature waste, While heaven was labouring to make us happy, Assist the tempest with thy feeble breath! We brought this dreadful ruin on ourselves. But name not thy faint sorrow with the anguish Mankind may learn-but-oh!

(Diaa Of a curs'd wretch, who only hopes for this Ran. Heaven grant they may !

(Stabs himself. And may thy penitence atone thy crime ! To change the scene, but not relieve his pain. 'Tend well the hapless Charlotte, and bear hence

Ran. Å dreadful instance of the last remorse! These bleeding victims of despair and pride; May all our woes end here!

Toll the death-bell! and follow to the grave Ó. Wil. O would they end

The wretched parents and ill-fated son. (Eseuns.

THE GUARDIAN:

A COMEDY,

IN TWO ACTS.

BY DAVID GARRICK, Esq.

REMARKS Mr. Garrick, perhaps the best judge of the drama that this or any other nation ever produced, has, in the following ittle piece, presented the theatrical world with a translation of M. Fagan's “Pupille,” which was esteemed a very complete little comedy. He has, however, not confined himself to a mere translation, but has, with great jadgment, made “such alterations from the original as the difference of the language and manners required." The success with which this piece was attended, so far exceeded the hopes of the author, that he availed himself of "an opportunity to return thanks to the public for their kind indulgence, and to the performers, for their great ware."

Mr. Heartly the guardian, originally performed by Mr. Garrick himself, and Miss Harriot, his ward, by Milor Pritchard, are two finely-drawn characters, which were well supported.

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-I could say

ACT I.

me-Another sign of love. And whenever I SCENE I.-A Hall at MR. HEARTLY's.

speak to any body else she seems to be per

fectly easy- That's a certain sign of love. Enter Sir C. ClackIt, Young CLACkit, and Sir C. The devil it is! SERVANT.

Young C. When I am with her, she's always Sir C. Tell Mr. Heartly, his friend and neigh-grave; and the moment I get up to leave her, bour, Sir Charles Clackit, would say three words then the poor thing begins "Stay, you agreeto him.

able runaway, stay, I shall soon overcome the Serd. I shall, Sir

(Erit. fears your presence gives me.” Sir C. Now nephew, consider once again, more- -But a man of honour, unclebefore I open the matter to my neighbour Heartly, Sir C. What, and has she said all these things what I am going to undertake for you.—Why to you? don't you speak ?

Young C. O yes, and ten times more-with Young C. Is it proper and decent, uncle ?

Sir C. Pshaw; don't be a fool-but answer Sir C. With her eyes! Eyes are very equime-don't you fatter yourself—What assurance vocal, Jack.--However, if the young lady has bave you that this young lady, my friend's ward, any liking to you, Mr. Heartly is too much e has a ilking to you?

man of the world, and too much my friend, to Young C. First then-Whenever I see her oppose the match ; so do you walk into the gas she never looks at me—That's a sign of love.- den, and I will open the matter to him. Whenever I speak to her she never answers Young C. Is there any objection to my staying,

her eyes.

16

see.

uncle : The business will soon be ended. You Young C. You'll excuse me, Mr. Heartlywill propose the match, he will give his consent, My uncle does not set up for an orator—a little I shall give mine, miss is sent for, and l'affaire confused or so, Sir-You see what I am--But est fait.

(Snapping his fingers. 1 ought to ask pardon for the young lady and Sir C. And so you think that a young beautiful myself.—We are young, Sir.— I must confess we heiress, with forty thousand pounds, is to be had were wrong to conceal it from you—but my uncle, with a scrap of French, and a snap of your fin- 1 see is ased to be angry, and therefore I shali ger ?-Pr’ythee, get away, and don't provoke me. say no more at present. Young C. Well

, well, I am gone, uncle. Sir C. If you don't leave the room this moment, When you come to the point, I shall be ready to and stay in the garden till I call youmake my appearance. --Bon voyage ! [Erit. Young C. I am sorry I have displeased you

Sir Ć. The devil's in these young fellows, 1 I did not think it was mal-a-propos; but you think.–We send 'em abroad to cure their sheep must have your way, uncle-You command-I ishness, and they get above proof the other way. submit-Mr. Heartly, yours.

[Erit. Enter HEARTLY.

Sir C. Puppy! (Aside.) My nephew's a little

unthinking, Mr. Heartly, as you see, and thereGood morrow to you, neighbour.

fore I have been a little cautious how I have pro Heart. And to you, Sir Charles ; I am glad to ceeded in this affair: but indeed he has persuaded see you so strong and healthy.

me, in a manner, that your ward and he are not Sir C. I can return you the compliment, my ill together. friend—Without flattery, you don't look more than Heart. Indeed! This is the first notice I have thirty-five; and between ourselves, you are on had of it, and I cannot conceive why Miss Harthe wrong side of forty-But, mum for that. riot should conceal it from me; for I have often Heart. Ease and tranquillity keep me as you assured her that I would never oppose her incli

nation, though I might endeavour to direct it. Sir C. Why don't you marry, neighbour ? A Sir C. You are right, neighbour. -But here good wife would do well for you.

she is. Heart. For me? you are pleased to be merry,

Enter HARRIOT and Lucy. Sir Charles.

Sir C. No, faith, I am serious, and had I a daugh Har. He is with company-I'll speak to him ter to recommend to you, you should say me nay, another time.

(Retires. more than once, I assure you, neighbour Heartly, Lucy. Young, handsome, and afraid of being before I would quit you.

seen.—You are very particular, Miss. Heart. I am much obliged to you.

[Apart to Harriot. Sir C. And now to my business.—You have Heart. Miss Harriot, you must not go.—[HARno objection, I suppose, to tie up your ward, riot returns.) Sir Charles, give me leave to inMiss Harriot, though you have slipped the collar troduce you to this young lady.—[Introduces her.) yourself.-Ha, ha, ha!

You know, I suppose, the reason of this gentleHeart. Quite the contrary, Sir; I have taken man's visit to me? her some time from the boarding school, and

Har. Sir!

(Confused. brought her home, in order to dispose of her Heart. Don't be disturbid, I shall not reproach worthily with her own inclination.

you with any thing but keeping your wishes a Sir Ć. Her father, I have heard you say, re- secret from me so long. commended that particular care to you, when she Har. Upon my word, Sir -Lucy! bad reached a certain age.

Lucy. Well, and Lucy! I'll lay my life 'tis a Heart. He did so -And I am the more desi- treaty of marriage.- Is that such a dreadful thing? rous to obey him scrupulously in this circumstance, Oh, for shame, Madam! Young ladies of fashion as she will be a most valuable acquisition to the are not frightened at such things now-a-days. person who shall gain her-for, not to mention Heart. ( To Sir Charles.) We have gone too her fortune which is the least consideration, her far, Sir Charles.—We must excuse her delicacy, sentiments are worthy her birth; she is gentle, and give her time to recover :- I had better talk modest, and obliging. In a word, my friend, I with her alone; we will leave her now.–Be pernever saw youth more amiable or discreet—but suaded that no endeavours shall be wanting on perhaps I am a little partial to her.

my part to bring this affair to a happy and speedy Sir C. No, no, she is a delicious creature, every conclusion. body says so.-But I believe, neighbour, some Sir C. I shall be obliged to you, Mr. Heartly.thing has happened that you little think of. Young lady, your servant. - What grace and Heart. What, pray, Sir Charles ?

modesty! She is a most engaging creature, and I Sir C. My nephew, Mr. Heartly

shall be proud to make her one of my family.

(TO HEARTLY. Re-enter Young CLACKIT.

Heart. You do us honour, Sir Charles. Young C. Here I am at your service, Sir.

[Exeunt Sir Charles and HEARTLY. My uncle is a little unhappy in his manner; but Lucy. Indeed, Miss Harriot, you are very parI'll clear the matter in a moment-Miss Harriot, ticular. You was tired of the boarding school, Sir-your ward

and yet seem to have no inclination to be marriSir C. Get away, you puppy!

ed.- What can be the meaning of all this? That Young C. Miss Harriot, sir, your ward, a most smirking old gentleman is uncle to Mr. Clackit; accomplished young lady, to be sure

and, my life for it, he has made some proposals Sir C. Thou art a must accomplished coxcomb, to your guardian. to be sure.

Har. Prythee, don't plague me about Mr. Heart. Pray, Sir Charles, let the young gen- Clackit. deman speak.

Lucy. But why not, Miss ? Though he is a Vol. I....C

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