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this ceremony. (Aside.) “ To Mrs. Brady, in, birds in hand is worth one in the bushes, Mr. Pall-mall."
Whittol-come, Sir. Wid. Now prosade-fire and powder, but I Whit. But I have not settled my matters. would
Wid. O, we'll settle them in a trice, I warraut Whit. Sir, what's the matter?
(Puts herself in a position. Wid. Nothing at all, Sir; pray go on.
Whit. But I don't understand the sword; I Wbit.“ Madam, -As I prefer your happiness had rather fight with pistols. to the indulgence of my own passions"
Wid. I am very happy it is in my power to Wid. I will not prefer your happiness to the oblige you; there, Sir, take your choice; I will indulgence of my passions-Mr. Whittol, rade on. plase you if I can.
[Offers pistols. Whit. “ I must confess that I am unworthy of Whit. Out of the pan into the fire! there's no your charms and virtues.”
putting him off; if I had chosen poison, I dare Wid. Very unworthy indeed; rade on, Sir. swear he had arsenic in his pocket. [Aside.)
Whit. “ I have, for some days, had a sedere Look ye, young gentleman, I am an old man, and struggle between my justice and my passion": you'll get no credit by killing me; but I have a
Wid. I have had no struggle at all: my justice nephew as young as yourself, and you'll get more and passion are agreed.
honour in facing him. Whit." The former has prevailed, and I beg Wid. Ay, and more pleasure too expect leave to resign you, with all your accomplish- ample satisfaction from him, after I have done ments, to some more deserving, though not more your business ; prepare, Sir. admiring servant, than your
miserable and de- Whit. What the devil; wont one serve your poted,
THOMAS WHITTLE." turn? I can't fight, and I wont fight; I'd do any Wid. And miserable and devoted you shall be thing rather than fight; I'll marry your sister; - to the postscript : rade on.
my nephew shall marry her; I'll give him all my Whit." " Postscript:let me have your pity, fortune; what would the fellow have? Here, né but not your anger.'
phew! Thomas! murder! murder! Wid. In answer to this love epistle, (Snatches
(He flies, and she pursues. the letter.) you pitiful fellow, my sister presents you with her tinderest wishes, and assures you
Enter Bates and Nephew. that you have, as you desire, her pity, and she Nep. What's the matter, uncle ? generously throws her contempt too into the bar- Whit. Murder, that's all; that ruffian there gain. (Tears the letter, and throws it at him. would kill me, and eat me afterwarıls. Whit. I'm infinitely obliged to her.
Nep. I'll find a way to cool him! come out, Sir, Wid. I must beg lave in the name of all our I am as mad as yourself; i'll match you, I'warfamily to present the same to you.
rant you. Whit. I am ditto to all the family.
Wid. I'll follow you ail the world over. Wid. But as a brache of promise to any of our Whit. Stay, stay, nephew, you sha'n't fight; family was never suffered without a brache into we shall be exposed all over the town, and you somebody's body, I have fixed upon myself to be may lose your life, and I shall be cursed from your operator; and I believe that you will find morning till night; do, nephew, make yourself that I have as fine a hand at this work, and will and me happy; be the olíve-branch, and bring give you as little pain, as any in the three king- peace into my family; return to the widow; soms. [Sits down and looses her knee-bands. will give you my consent, and your fortune, and
Whit. For Heaven's sake, captain, what are a fortune for the widow, five thousand pounds! you about?
Do persuade him, Mr. Bates. Wid. I always loosen my garters for the ad- Bates. Do, Sir; this is a very critical point of vantage of lunging; it is for your sake as well as your life ; I know you love her; 'tis the only memy own, for I will be twice through your body, thod to restore us all to our senses. Defore you shall feel me once.
Nep. I must talk in private first with this hot Whit. What a terrible fellow it is! I wish young gentleman. Thomas would come in.
[Aside. Wid. As private as you plase, Sir. Wid. Come, Sir, prepare yourself; you are not Whit. Take their weapons away, Mr. Bates ; the first, by half a score, that I have run through and do you follow me to my study, to witness my and through the heart, before they knew what proposal; it is all ready, and only wants signwas the matter with them.
ing; come along, come along.
[Erit. Whil. But, captain, suppose I will marry your Bates. Victoria ! victoria! give me your swords sister?
and pistols ; and now do your worst, you spirited, Wid. I have not the laste objection, if you re- loving, young couple ; I could leap out of my cover of your wounds. Callaghan O'Connor skin!
(Erit. lives very happy with my great aunt, Mrs. De- Nep. O my charming widow; what a day borah O'Neale, in the county of Gallway; ex- have we gone through! cept a small asthma he got by my running him Wid. I would go through ten times as much through the lungs, at the Currough: he would to deceive an old, amorous spark, like your uncle, have forsaken her, if I had not stopped his perfidy to purchase a young one, like his nephew. by a famous family styptic I have here: 6, ho! Nep. I listened at the door all this last scene; my my little old boy, but you shall get it. (Draws. heart was agitated with ten thousand fears; sup
Whit. What shall I do ?-well, Sir, if I must, pose my uncle had been stout, and drawn his sword I must; I'll meet you to-morrow morning in Wid. I should have run away as he did ; when Hyde-Park, let the consequence be what it will. two cowards meet, the struggle is who shall run
Wid. For fear you might forget that favour, first; and sure I can beat an old man at any thing. I must beg to be indulged with a little pushing Nep. Permit me thus to seal my happiness. now; I have set my heart upon it; and two
Enter Whittle and BATES; Whittle stares. Tho Into happiness. You have been foolisa Bates. Confusion !
a long while, turn about and be wise; he has got Whit. (Turning to Bates.) Hey-way! I am the woman and his estate, give them your blessing, afraid his head is not right yet!' he was knowing which is not worth much, and live like a Christia
for the future. and kissing the captain's hand. Bates. Take no notice, all will come about.
Whit. I will, if I can: but I can't look at 'em; (Aside.
I can't bear the sound of my voice, nor the sight Wid. I find, Mr. Whittol, your family loves of my own face ; look ye, I am distressed and dis kissing better than fighting; he swears, I am as tracted! and can't coine to yet; I will be reconlike my sister as two pigeons.
ciled if possible; but don't let me see or hear from Enter SiR PATRICK O'NEALE.
you, if you would have me forget and forgive you
-I'shall never lift up my head again! Sir P. I hope, Mr. Whizzle, you'll excuse my Wid. I hope, Sir Patrick, that my preferring the coming back to give you an answer, without hav- nephew to the uncle will meet with your approing any to give; I hear a grate dale of news about bation ? myself, and came to know if it be true; they say Sir P. You are out of my hands, Pat, so if my son is in London, when he tells me himself
, you wont trouble me with your afflictions, I shall by letter here, that he's at Limerick ; and I have sincerely rejoice at your felicity. been with my daughter to tell her the news, but Nep. It would be a great abatement of my preshe would not stay at home to receive it, so I am sent joy, could I believe that this lady should be come–0 gramachree! my little din ousil craw, assisted in her happiness, or be supported in her what have we got here? a piece of mummery! afflictions, by any one but her lover and husband. here is my son and daughter too, fait; what are Sir P. Fine notions are fine tings, but a fine you waring the breeches, Pat, to see how they estate gives every ting but ideas, and them too, if become you when you are Mrs. Weezel ? you'll appale to those who help you to spend it
Wid. I beg your pardon for that, Sir! I wear what say you, widow ? them before marriage, because I think they be- Wid. By your and their persuasion I will tell come a woman better than after.
my mind to this good company; and for fear my Whit. What, is not this your son? (Astonished. words should want ideas too, I will add an Irish
Sir P. No, but it is my daughter, and that is tune, that may carry off a bad voice, and bad matter, the same thing.
A widow bewitch'd with her passion, Wid. And your niece, Sir, which is better
Though Irish, is now quite asham'd, than either.
To think that she's so out of fashion, Whit. Mighty well! and I suppose you have
To marry, and then to be tamed. not lost your wits, young man ?
'Tis love, the dear joy, Nep. I sympathize with you, Sir; we lost 'em
That old fashion'd boy, together, and found 'em at the same time.
Has got in my breast with his quiver; Whit. Here's villany! Mr. Bates, give me the
The blind urchin he, paper; not a farthing shall they have till the law
Struck the cush la maw cree, gives it 'em.
And a husband secures me for ever! Bates. We'll cheat the law, and give it them
Ye, fair or es, I hope, will excuse me, (Gides Nephew the paper. Though vulgar, pray do not abuse me. Whit. He may take his own, but he sha'n't I cannot become a find lady, have a sixpence of the five thousand pounds I O love has bewitch'd widow Brady. promised him. Bates. Witness, good folks, he owns to the
Ye critics, to murder so willing, promise.
Pray see all our errors with blindness, Sir P. Fait, I'll witness dat, or any thing else
For once change your method of killing, in a good cause.
And kill a fond widow with kindness; Whit. What, am I choused again ?
If you look so severe,
In a fil of despair, Bates. Why, should not my friend be choused out of a little justice for the first tiine ? Your
Again will I draw forth my steel, Sins;
You know I've the art, hard usage has sharpened your nephew's wits; therefore, beware, don't play with edge-tools,
To be twice through your bcart, you'll only cut your fingers.
Before I can once make you feel, Sirs. Sir P. And your trote too, which is all one;
Brother soldiers, I hope you'll protect De
Nor let cruel critics dissect me; therefore, to make all asy, marry my daughter first, and then quarrel with her afterwards; that
To favour my cause be but ready, will be in the natural course of things.
And grateful you'll find widow Brady Whit. Here, Thomas! where are you?
To all that I see here before me,
The bottom, the top, and the middle, Enter THOMAS.
For music we now must implore ye, Here are fine doings! I am deceived, tricked, and No wedding without pipe and fiddle; cheated!
If all are in tune, Tho. I wish you joy, Sir; the best thing that
Pray let it be soon, could have happened to you; and as a faithful My heart in my bosom is prancing ! servant I have done my best to check you.
If your hands should unite, Whit. To check me!
To give us delight, Tho. You were galloping fullspeed, and down hill 0, that's the best piping aud dancing! too, and if we had not laid hold of the bridle, being Your plaudits to me are a treasure, a bad jockey, you would have hung by your horns Your smiles are a dow'r for a lady, in the stirrup, to the great joy of the whole town. 0, joy to you all in full measure, Whit. What, have you helped to trick me ?
So wishes, and prays, widow Brady.
ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM:
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY GEORGE LILLO.
We have before alluded to this Play, (in our remarks on the Author's Tragedy of Fatal Curiosity, , as founded on a well-known domestic trouble, recorded by Hollinshed, in his chronicle; and by Jacob, in his History of Feversham.-In 1592, a tragedy under the same title was published, by an anonymous writer; and in 1770 was reprinted by Edward Jacob, with an absurd preface, imputing it to Shakspeare. From this, Mr. Lillo formed the present tragedy, which he is said to have left unfinished to the care of Dr. John Hoadley, by whom it was completed.
With some alteration, this piece might be well adapted for modern representation; it is pathetic and interest. ing, with many well-written passages. The last act in particular, with the death of Arden by the villany of Mosby, and the despair Alicia, is not only deeply affecting, but is a sad proof of the folly and danger of the slightest acquaintance or association with the depraved. In 1790, Mr. Holman produced this tragedy, with alterations, for his benefit.
THE MAYOR OF FEVERSHAM,..
SCENE.-Feversham in Kent.
A young Gentlewoman.
And laugh at all to come.-For other instruments,
(suit SCENE I.— The Street before ARDEN's door. There's Green: he bears him hard about this Mosby alone.
For th' abbey-lands, to which the hot youth pleads
[fav'rite; Mos. The morning's dark, and horrid as my Some fancied right.- Michael, the trencher: purpose.
A bastard, bred of Arden's charity : Thrice have my snare's been laid for Arden's life, He has been privy to our secret joys, And thrice has he escap'd.-. I am not safe: And, on that trust presuming, loves my sister The living may revenge.-Oh! could I win Winks at adultery, and may at murder Alicia to conspire her husband's fall,
Maria is his price. I've plac'd ber here, Then might I say, security, thou'rt mine, Companion of my sweet Alicia's hours,
To spread her charms for ever in his eye: O Arden, blend compassion with your rage,
Plead not the ruin you have made; but say She could dený me nothing. (Exit into Arden's. Why have you driven me to these extremes ?
Why sacrific'd my peace, and your own fame.
By corresponding with a menial slave?
Alic. Thou can'st not think, that I bare
wrong'd thy bed? Ard. Unhappy Arden, whither canst thou Ard. Would, I could not ! wander
Alic. By Heavens ! To lay thy heavy load of sorrows down!
Ard. No perjuries. Will change of place relieve th' afflicted mind; But now, as you lay slumbering by my side, Or does all nature yield a balm to cure
I still awake, anxious, and full of thought, The pangs of slighted love and broken faith? (For thou hast banísh'd sleep from these sad Ungrateful, false Alicia! false with Mosby,
eyes,) The vile dependent of my foe profess'd, With gentle accents, thrilling with desire, Lord Clifford's full-fed flatterer!
You callid on Mosby: love made me doubt my Come, Franklin, come: Arden, thy friend, in
ears, vites thee;
And question if the dark and silent night And let me pour my griefs into thy bosom, Conspir'd not with my fancy to deceive me : And find in friendship what I've lost in love. But soon I lost the painful, pleasing hope;
Again you call’d upon your minion Mosby. Enter ALICIA.
Confirm'd, I strove to fly your tainted bed, Alic. Why, Arden, do you leave your bed thus But, wanting strength, sunk lifeless on my pillow. early?
You threw your eager arms about my neck, Have cold and darkness greater charms than 1? You press’d my bloodless cheeks with your warm There was a time when winter nights were short,
lips, And Arden chid the morn that call’d him from Which glow'd, adulterous! with infernal heat;
And call'd a third time on the villain Mosby, Ard. This deep dissembling, this hypocrisy, Alic. A dream, indeed, if I e'er call'd on him. (The last worst state of a degenerate mind) Ard. Thy guilty dreams betray thy waking Speaks her in vice determind and mature.
[Aside. Alic. I know I'm simple, thoughtless, and unAlic. What maid, that knows man's variable guarded; nature,
And what is carelessness, you construe guilt. Would sell her free estate for marriage bonds ? Yet were I weak as those fantastic visions, From vows and oaths, and every servile tie, Sure I could never have condemn'd you, Arden, The tyrant man at pleasure is set free;
On circumstances and an idle dream.
Which, though I not remember, I abhor:
Alic. Are you not jealous ? do you not give ear Arden, you do not wish me innocent, To vain surmises and malicious tongues, Or on suspicions could you doom me guilty? That hourly wound my yet untainted fame ? Ard. Not wish thee innocent! do sinking Ard. And wouldst thou make me author of
mariners, the shame
When struggling with the raging seas for life, Thy guilt has brought on us !—I'll bear no longer. Wish the assistance of some friendly plank ? The traitor, Mosby: curs'd, detested, Mosby, 'Tis that, and that alone, can bring me comfort Shall render an account for both your crimes. Alic. O jealousy! thou fierce, remorseless fend, Alic. What do I hear ?
(Aside. Degenerate, most unnatural, child of love; Ard. That base, mechanic slave
How shall I chase thee from my Arden's bosom? Shall answer with his blood.
Ard. There is a way, an easy way, Alicia Alic. O hear me speak.
Alic. O name it-speak.
Alic. You distract me, Arden.
Alic. O how shall I conceal
(Recovers himself. My own confusion, and elude his rage? (Aside. No-Not the hell thou'st kindled in this bosom Ard. Thou'rt lost, Alicia lost to memand Shall make me shed thy blood.
Heaven. Alic. I do not hope it.
Alic. Indeed I'm lost, if you unkindly doubt Ard. For me, be as immortal as thy shame.
Alic. I see your cruel purpose : I must live, Ard. Wilt thou then ne'er converse with To see your hand and honour stain'd with blood. Mosby more? Your ample fortune seiz'd on by the state, Alic. If e'er I do, may Heaven, and you forYour life a forfeit to the cruel laws.
Ard. You'll keep your word, Alicia!—Pr’ythee, But he has found the fraud-the slumbering lion say.
At length has rous'd himself Alic. You'll break my heart.
Mos. And I must fall
Mos. But quickly will.
Alic. That, that's my greatest fear. O give me that!
Mos. Then, branded with a strumpet's hated Alic. That always was your own.
name. Ard. Thou flatterer—then whence this cruel The cause abhorr'd of shame, of blood, and ruin, strife?
Thou'lt be exposed and hooted through the world. Still art thou cold : nor warm are thy embraces, Alic. O hide the dreadful image from my view! Nor sparkle in thine eyes the fires of love : Chaste matrons, modest maids,and virtuous wives, Cold, cold, and comfortless.
Scorning a weakness which they never knew, Alic. Indeed, you fright me.
Shall blush with indignation at my name. Ard. 'Tis possible.
Mos. My death--but that-though certainAlic. What?
Alic.. Labour not Ard. That thou may'st yet deceive me. To drive me to despair. Fain would I hope Alic. O! I am wretched!
Mos. You may-and be deceiv'd. For me, I Ard. Both perhaps are so.
know But if thou ever lov'dst, thou'lt not despise me, My fate resolv'd-and thee the instrument; And wilt forgive me, if indeed I've wrong'd thee, The willing instrument of Mosby's ruin. As I've forgiven thee—Pity, I'm sure, I need. Inconstant, false Alicia !
(Esrit. Alic. False, indeed; Alic. Thou hast it, Arden, even from her that but not to thee, cruel, injurious Mosby!
Mos. Injurious !- False one! might not all All, all shall pity thee, and curse Alicia.
Alic. Ha !-say on.
Mos. And, not preventing, art thou not the
cause? Of coming life be usher'd with like joy.
Alic. Ah! whither, Mosby-whither wouldst
thou drive me? Franklin, from court return'd, has brought the
Mos. Nay, didst thou love, or wouldst secure grant Of tne abbey-lands confirm’d by the young king, Preserve my life, and bind me yours for ever,
thy fame, in To Arden, for his life ; nor will deliver
'Tis yet within your power. Il But to himself the deed.
Alic. By Arden's death! Alic. A worthy friend?
Mean'st thou not so ? speak out, and be a devil. The grant is not more welcome to my husband, Than Franklin's company,
Mos. Yes, 'tis for thee I am so—But your looks
Declare, my death would please you better, MaMar He's flown to meet him. (Exeunt.
Alic. Exaggerating fiend! be dumb for ever. SCENE III.- A Parlour in ARDEN'S House.
His death! I must not cast a glance that way. Enter Alicia, meeting Mosby.
Mos. Is there another way?-O think, Alicia. Alic. Mosby, that brow befits our wayward fate. Alic. I will, for that will make me mad: and The evil hour, long fear'd, is fallen upon us,
madness And we shall sink beneath it. Do not frown, Were some excuse. Come, kind distraction ! come, If you're unkind, to whom shall I complain ?
And Arden dies—my husband dies, for Mosby. Mos. Madam, it was my sister I expected
[Shrieks, and runs to Mosby. Alic. Am I forgotten then? Ungrateful man! This only could have added to my woes.
Enter Arden and FRANKLIN, Did you but know what I have borne for you, He's here! O save me! tell me, did he hear? You would not thus, unmov'd, behold my tears. Ard. (Starting.) Franklin, support your friend. Mos. Madam, you make me vain.
I shake with horror. Alic. Insult not, Mosby.
Frank. What moves you thus ? You were the first dear object of my love, Ard. See- Mosby-with my wife? And, could my heart have made a second choice, Mos. But, Madam, I shall spare you farther I had not been the object of your scorn:
trouble; But duty, gratitude, the love of fame,
In happy time, behold my neighbour here. And pride of virtue, were too weak t'erase
[As taking leave of Alicia. The deep impression of your early vows. Alic. Mischief and wild confusion have begun, Mos. Therefore you kindly chose to wed another. And desolation waits to close the scene. [Exit. Alic. Reproach me not with what I deem'd my Mos. Sir, I would gladly know, whether your duty.
Her faithless heart, ev'n in the traitor's sight, Alic. No, no, I gave him nothing:
Who tanght it falsehood.
Aside Words without truth-a hand without a heart. Frank. He is lost in thougnr.
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