ACT THE THIRD. SCENE I. He A Room in OLD WILMOT's House. Enter AGNES alone, with the Casket in her Hand. Agnes. Who should this stranger be?-And then this casket says it is of value, and yet trusts it, My eyes are dazzl'd, and my ravish'd heart Leaps at the glorious sight. How bright's the lustre, Famine; the cold neglect of friends; the scorn, Plenty, content, and power, might take their turn, At our approach, and once more bend before us. Though, but a moment, such a treasure mine. Nay, it was more than thought-I saw, and touch'd Enter OLD WILMOT. O. Wim. The mind contented, with how little pains The wand'ring senses yield to soft repose! me? What art thou gazing on ?-Fie, 'tis not well.— Why have you open'd it? Should this be known, Agnes. And who shall know it? O. Wilm. There is a kind of pride, a decent dignity, Due to ourselves; which, spite of our misfortunes, Agnes. Shows sovereign madness, and a scorn of sense. Pursue no farther this detested theme: I will not die; I will not leave the world, O. Wilm. To chase a shadow, when the setting sun Is darting his last rays, were just as wise As your anxiety for fleeting life, Now the last means for its support are failing: Were famine not as mortal as the sword, Your warmth might be excus'd-But take thy choice: Die how you will, you shall not die alone. O. Wilm. There is no fear of that. O. Wilm. Strange folly! where the means? O. Wilm. Ah!- -Take heed! Perhaps thou dost but try me—yet take heed! And desperation drove, have been committed O. Wilm. How couldst thou form a thought so very damning ? So advantageous, so secure, and easy; Agnes. 'Tis less impiety, less against nature, To take another's life, than end our own. O. Wilm. No matter, which, the less or greater crime : Howe'er we may deceive ourselves or others, We act from inclination, not by rule, Or none could act amiss: and that all err, E -Oh! what is man, his excellence and strength, plead For our own preservation. O. Wilm. Rest contented : Reason may justly Whate'er resistance I may seem to make, Agnes. Then naught remains, But the swift execution of a deed O. Wilm. Gen'rous, unhappy man! Oh! what could move thee To put thy life and fortune in the hands Agnes. By what means Shall we effect his death? O. Wilm. Why, what a fiend !- Agnes. Barbarous man! Whose wasteful riots ruin'd our estate, And drove our son, ere the first down had spread To seek his bread 'mongst strangers, and to perish Thou most remorseless, most ungrateful man! O. Wilm. Dry thy tears: I ought not to reproach thee. I confess That thou hast suffer'd much so have we both. But chide no more; I'm wrought up to thy purpose. The poor, ill-fated, unsuspecting victim, Ere he reclin'd him on the fatal couch, From which he's ne'er to rise, took off the sash, And bring me word, if he be still asleep. [Exit AGNES. Or I'm deceiv'd, or he pronounc'd himself The happiest of mankind. Deluded wretch: Thy thoughts are perishing, thy youthful joys, Touch'd by the icy hand of grisly death, Are with'ring in their bloom.- -But, thought extinguish'd, He'll never know the loss, Nor feel the bitter pangs of disappointment→→ Is all the happiest of mankind can hope for. Of every joy, and even hope itself, As I have done-Why do I mourn him then? [Exit |