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nothing to crofs him. Poor fellow, that girl will be the death of him— (a noise at the door. J Oh! there he is.
So, you're come home—but it's too late for labour; you'll fee me ftarve for want foon.
Oiiv. Father—fhe's gone—fhe has left me; I'll work now, father; you fhall never ftarve.
White. Left you, Oliver? You mould have more pride. Your father was proud enough—that is— what am I faying. The garden's running to wafte, your help would fet us up again—I haven't received
a penny thefe five days; but I'll never borrow.
No—your father's too proud to borrow .
Oliv. 1 can never bear this. Oh! Fanny! Fanny! to what has thy fickle nature brought me?
White. Plague on her, I fay!
Oliv. Nay, don't abufe her. She has cut me to the heart. She is falfe—but do not abufe her?— Where's filler Ellen?
White. Gone in to fupper—that is—gone in to reft. We had a tolerable breakfaft, and
Oliv. How!—Is it true, then ?—Is it—
White. We mail have plenty to-morrow. Come come—
Oliv. No food—not received money thefe five days! Oh !—fhame! fhame.
White. I have faid too much—What ails the boy?
Oliv. Nothing—Nothing ails me, father. lam very well—only a little tired.
White. His looks alarm me ; yet if I tell him the extent of our mifery, 'twould break his heart! Oh! this girl! this girl! \_ExH.
Oliv. My lears were juft—difgrace is certain; but I mull lave my father, Babble was right, then, and Father's brought to want by me. Oh, fhame, fhame. Where fhall I go—what ftiall I do—I can't reft—no, no, I can't reft I Oh! Fanny, the fault is all your's. [Exit.
SCENE IV.—A Rough Lane, with Wood.
Sid. So! after ten years abfence, I'm arrived at laft; and if I find my niece Fanny innocent as when I left her, I fhan't grudge "the labour that has made me rich. Very extraordinary that Ihe has never written to me. All Mrs. Antidote's letters informed me Ihe was well. My fon too—I may hear news of him. How this fellow loiters. La Roque!
(oliver appears among the trees
Oliv. 1 heard a,voice. Who's there?
Sid. 'Tis I—Why do you linger?
Oliv. Oh! a ftranger!
Sid. Ha! Who art thou?
Oliv. A wretch!—a miferable wretch!
Sid. What do you want, aye?
Sid. Zounds! a thief. He does not look like one. You are no robber—fpeak.
Oliv. A robber—don't—don't—this is too bad— Father—lifter—Oh! no, no, no—indeed I am no robber.
Sid. I don't like this fellow—(calls) I fay, La Roque! I fay—
Enter La Roqjte.
La Ro. Blefs my foul! here Sair! Veil, I villi we was arrive. I never was the man to like de tornble in de ditch—den de fear of tief. Ah 1 begar! here is von.
Oliv. You dare not fay it.
Sid. (to Oliver.) What has been the caufe of this? Oliv. A fiend in woman's fhapc.
La Ro. A woman Oh! la Canibal!
Si J. What woman?
Oliv. No matter. She malt live for repentance*— I fhall not name her,
La Ro. No you name her for fear your little body fliould dangle on de gibbet.
Oliv. No! why mould I fear any thing, now I have loft her?
La Ro. Loft her! Oh ! he means his vife I fuppofe—ah—how different is me—I had vife once—I lofe her—begar I never was fo comfortable in my rife.
La Ro. De Town—de village ve iuft pafs—have no doubt de juftice dere. You will foon be.introducee at Court, mon ami—dis way if you pleafe, Sair! To de left.
Sid. I live to the right.
La Ro. Oh! ver veil, Sair: but vill you proced vid dis—dis— Oliv. What?
La Ro. Gentleman—pardonnez moi—I beg pardon—Diable n'import, if I like dis new acquaintance of my mafter at all.
Std. Silence! hold your chattering Come
La Ro. Veil! here I am— I vifh I vas any vere elfe.
Sid. Go forward to the village. My name will direct you to the houfe. Say I am coming, but don't repeat a lyllable of what has paffed here • Remember.
La Ro. When fhall I forget, I do not know. Dat petit ganjon has frighten me out of my head all de wit 1 have.
Sid. No difficult matter, that. You cowardly booby—Why you are big enough to eat him.
La Ro. Oh! vel, but I am not hungry. Vel, Sair, I fhall go find my way thro' all dis black foieft ; but I can't help thinking I mould have been found more agreeable company dan dis gentleman. (/fiJe.) Begar I have de perception de little gentleman, is big tief. [Exit.
Sid. So, you want money?
Otiv. Not for mylelf; but I have a lifter—father—
Sid. What is your name?
Sid. Oliver! Oliver what!
Oliv, I have told you my name—I'll not difgrace my father's.
Sid. Why are you wandering here—at fuch a time too?
Oliv. You fhall hear. Not far diftant from this fpot, I became acquainted with an angel in beauty, but a very woman in difpofition; I lov'd her—do love her—Oh! Fanny!
Sid. Who did you fay?
Oliv. (aside.) Ha! I have betrayed—but he cannot know her. Fanny Tranfit is her name.
Sid. Indeed! (aside.) So, fo! ftie'a one of your high-flyers, is fhe; I'll foon tame her if it is fo. But your demand for money
Oliv. Never! I never did demand it. 'Tis true, I might have afted wrong through the impulfe of defpair—if you refufe to do good, you do it from refle&ion.
Sid. His words and looks are thofe of innocence. I wifh to do right, and fear to do other wife. There is money, I give it freely, not at your defire, but from the didates of my own heart.
Oliv. Heaven blefs you! This will make my old father young again. 'Twill make him happy, tho' I can never be fo.
Sid. I don't know that: If I find Mrs. Antidote, and be damn'd to her has been fluffing that giri's head with fine notions as tbey are called, curfe me if I don't fluff her into fome hovel, where Hie may ftudy thofe tricks all the reft of her life. Come, you lhall go with me, young man.
Oliv. Any where, with you. But my father, one moment to fee my father.
Sid. I forgot. You'll eafily find me in the village; I'm a queer-looking little old fellow; the folks in the village will make as much fufs about my appearance, as if the Elephant was to be feen there, or a long-tailed Kangaroo. [Exit.
Oliv. Heaven blefs you! Heaven will blels you» for you have faved my father. [Exit.
SCENE V.—An apartment at Mrs. Antidote's.
Enter Fannv Transit.
Fanny, (singing-) "A foldier, a foldier, a foldier for me." Heigho! they're gone, not a red coat to be feen; no more Reviews, no more delightful tnufic, no more moon-light walks. - Why was not Oliver a foldier? in regimentals he'd have outlhone them all. It's a great pity he wasn't a foldier!—Oh! here comes my fsge Duenna, Mrs. Antidote, who wifhes to appear fitteen at forty fivef by ufing every new cofmetic that's advertifed; and becaufe fhe thinks that foolifh old perfumer, Mr. Babble, wants to marry her, would tain have me take a liking to his ftupid fop of a fon.
Enter Mrs. Antidote, (reading.)
Mrs. Ant. Bloom of Circaffia—Alabafter wafh, Otto of rofe—French rouge—Court plaifter. The very articles in which my toilet is moil in want.