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Mrs. Hardcastle (running forward from be- Hastings. But though he had the will, he has hind). Olud! he'll murder my poor boy, my dar. not the power to relieve you. ling! Here, good gentleman, whet your rage upon

Miss Neville. But he has influence, and upon me. Take my money, my life, but spare that young that I am resolved to rely. gentleman ; spare my child, if you have any mercy. Hastings. I have no hopes. But since you perHardcastle. My wife, as I'm a Christian. From sist

, I must reluctantly obey you. (Exeunt. whence can she come? or what does she mean?

Mrs. Hardcastle (kneeling). Take compassion on us, good Mr. Highwayman. Take our money,

Enter SIR CIIARLES MARLOW and MISS HARD our watches, all we have, but spare our lives. We

CASTLE. will never bring you to justice, indeed ve won't, good Mr. Highwayman.

Sir Charles. What a situation am I in ! If what Hardcastle. I believe the woman's out of her you say appears, I shall then find a guilty son. If senses. What, Dorothy, don't you know me. what he says be true, I shall then lose one that, of

Mrs. Hardcastle. Mr. Hardcastle, as I'm alive! all others, 1 most wished for a daughter. My fears blinded me. But who, my dear, could

Miss Hardcastle. I am proud of your approbahave expected to meet you here, in this frightful tion; and to show I merit it, if you place yourplace, so far from home? What has brought you selves as I directed, you shall hear his explicit deto follow us?

clarations. But he comes. Hardcastle. Sure, Dorothy, you have not lost your

Sir Charles. I'll to your father and keep him to wits': So far from home, when you are within for the appointment.

(Exit Sir Charles. ty yards of your own door! (To him.] This is

Enter MARLOW. one of your old tricks, you graceless rogue you.

Marlow. Though prepared for setting out, I (To her.) Don't you know the gate and the mul

come once more to take leave; nor did I till this berry tree; and don't you remember the horse

moment, know the pain I feel in the separation. pond, my

dear? Mrs. Hardcastle. Yes, I shall remember the I believe these sufferings can not be very great, sir,

Miss Hardcastle (in her own natural manner). horse-pond as long as I live; I have caught my which you can so easily remove. death in it. (To Tony.) And is it to you, you longer, perhaps, might lessen your uneasiness, by

A day or two graceless varlet, I owe all this? I'll teach you to

showing the little value of what you think proper abuse your mother, I will.

to regret. Tony. Ecod, mother, all the parish says you have

Marlow (aside). This girl every moment imspoiled me, and so you may take the fruits on't. Mrs. Hardcastle. I'll spoil you, I will.

proves upon me. (To her.] It must not be, madam.

I have already trifled too long with my lieart. My (Follows him off the Stage. Erit. Hardcastle . There's morality, however, in his very pride begins to submit to my passion. The

disparity of eclucation and fortune, the anger of a reply.


parent, and the contempt of my equals, begin to lose their weight; and nothing can restore me to

myself but this painful effort of resolution. Hastings. My dear Constance, why will you

Miss Hardcastle. Then go, sir: l’ll urge nothing deliberate thus? If we delay a moment, all is lost for

more to detain you. Though my family be as good ever. Pluck up a little resolution, and we shall soon be out of the reach of her malignity.

as hers you came down to visit, and my education, Miss Neville. I find it impossible. My spirits are

I hope, not inferior, what are these advantages

without equal affluence? I must remain contented so sunk with the agitations I have suffered, that I am unable to face any new danger. Two or three

with the slight approbation of imputed merit; I years' patience will at last crown us with happiness. while all your serious aims are fixed on fortune.

must have only the mockery of your addresses, Hastings. Such a tedious delay is worse than inconstancy. Let us Ay, my charmer. Let us

from behind date our happiness from this very moment. Perish fortune! Love and content will increase what we Sir Charles. Here, behind this screen. possess beyond a monarch's revenue. Let me pre- Hardcastle. Ay, ay; make no noise. I'll envail.

gage my Kate covers him with confusion at last. Miss Neville. No, Mr. Hastings, no. Prudence Marlow. By Heavens! madam, fortune was once more comes to my relief, and I will obey its ever my smallest consideration. Your beauty, at dictates. In the moment of passion, fortune may first caught my eye, for who could see that without be despised, but it ever produces a lasting repent- emotion ? But every moment that I converse with ance. I'm resolved to apply to Mr. Hardcastle's you, steals in some new grace, heightens the piccompassion and justice for redress.

ture, and gives it stronger expression. What at



first seemed rustic plainness, now appears refined Marlow. Zounds, there's no bearing this; it's simplicity. What seemed forward assurance, now worse than death! strikes me as the result of courageous innocence Miss Hardcastle. In which of your character, and conscious virtue.

sir, will you give us leave to address you ? As the Sir Charles. What can it mean? Heamazes me! faltering gentleman, with looks on the ground, that Hardcastle. I told you how it would be. Hush! speaks just to be heard, and hates hypocrisy; or

Marlow. I am now determined to stay, madam, the loud confident creature, that keeps it up with and I have too good an opinion of my father's dis- Mrs. Mantrap, and old Miss Biddy Buckskin, till cernment, when he sees you, to doubt his approba- three in the morning ?-Ha! ha! ha! tion.

Marlou. O, curse on iny noisy head! I never Miss Hardcastle. No, Mr. Marlow, I will not, attempted to be impudent yet that I was not taken can not detain you. Do you think I could suffer down! I must be gone. a connexion in which there is the smallest room Hardcastle. By the hand of my body, but you for repentance? Do you think I would take the shall not. I ser it was all a mistake, and I am remean advantage of a transient passion to load you joiced to find it. You shall not, sir, I tell you. I with confusion? Do you think I could ever relish know she'll forgive you. Won't you forgive him, that happiness which was acquired by lessening Kate? We'll all forgive you. Take courage, man. yours?

[They retire, she tormenting him to the Marlow. By all that's good, I can have no hap

back scene. piness but what's in your power to grant me! Nor Enter MRS. IIARDCASTLE, TONY. shall I ever feel repentance but in not having seen

Mrs. Hardcastle. So, so, they're gone off. Let your merits before. I will stay even contrary to

them go, I care not. your wishes; and though you should persist to

Hardcastle. Who gone ? shun me, I will make my respectful assiduities

Mrs. Hardcaslle. My dutiful niece and her genatone for the levity of my past conduct. Miss Hardcastle. Sir , I must entreat you'll de- tleman, Mr. Hastings, from town. He who came

down with our modest visiter here. sist. As our acquaintance began, so let it end, in

Sir Charlcs. Who, my honest George Hastindifference. I might have given an hour or two to levity; but seriously , Mr. Marlow, do you thinkings? As worthy a fellow as lives, and the girl

could not have made a more prudent choice. I could ever submit to a connexion where I must

Hardcasllc. Then, ly the hand of my body, I'm appear mercenary, and you imprudent? Do you think I could ever catch at the confident addresses proud of the connexion.

Mrs. Hardcastle. Well, if he has taken away of a secure admirer?

the lady, he has not taken her fortune; that reMarlow (knecling]. Does this look like securi

mains in this family to console us for her loss. ty? Does this look like confidence? No, madam,

Hardcasllc. Sure, Dorothy, you would not be so every moment that shows me your nierit, only

mercenary? serves to increase my diffidence and confusion.

Mrs. Hardcastlc. Ay, that's my affair, not yours. Here let me continue

Hardcastle. But you know if your son, when of Sir Charles. I can hold it no longer. Charles, Charles, how hast thou deceived me! Is this your is then at her own disposal


age, refuses to marry his cousin, her whole fortune indifference, your uninteresting conversation ? Hardcastle. Your cold contempt; your formal

Mrs. Hardcastle. Ay, but he's not of age, and interview! What have you to say now?

she has not thought proper to wait for his refusal. Marlow. That l'm all amazement! What can


Mrs. Hardcasllc (aside). What, returned so Hardcastle. It means that you can say and un- soon! I begin not to like it. say things at pleasure : that you can address a lady Hastings [lo Hardcastic). For my late attempt in private, and deny it in public: that you have to fly off with your niece, let my present confusion one story for us, and another for my daughter. be my punishment. We are now come back, to

Marlor. Daughter!—This lady your daughter? appeal from your justice to your humanity. By her

Hardcastle. Yes, sir, my only daughter: my father's consent I first paid her my addresses, and Kate; whose else should she be?

our passions were first founded in duty. Marlou. Oh, the devil!

Miss Scrillc. Since his death, I have been Miss Hardcaslle. Yes, sir, that very identical obliged to stoop to dissimulation to avoid opprestall squinting lady you were pleased to take me sion. In an hour of levity, I was ready even to for; (courtesying) she that you address ell as the give up my fortune to secure my choice: but I'm mild, modest, sentimental man of gravity, and the now recovered from the delusion, and hope from bold, forward, agreeable Rattle of the ladies' club. your tenderness what is denied me from a neare: Ha! ha! ha!


Mrs. Hardcastle. Pshaw, pshaw; this is all but | The first act shows the simple country maid, the whining end of a modern novel.

Harmless and young, of every thing afraid; Hardcastle. Be it what it will, I'm glad they're Blushes when hired, and with unmeaning action come back to reclaim their due. Come hither, “I hopes as how to give you satisfaction.” Tony, boy. Do you refuse this lady's hand whom Her second act displays a livelier sceneI now offer you.

The unblushing bar-maid of a country inn, Tony. What signifies my refusing? You know Who whisks about the house, at market caters, I can't refuse her till I'm of age, father. Talks loud, coquets the guests, and scolds the

Hardcastle. While I thought concealing your waiters. age, boy, was likely to conduce to your improve- Next the scene shifts to town, and there she soars, ment, I concurred with your mother's desire to keep The chop-house toast of ogling connoisseurs. it secret. But since I find she turns it to a wrong On 'squires and cits she there displays her arts, use, I must now declare you have been of age these And on the gridiron broils her lovers' heartsthree months.

And as she smiles, her triumphs to complete, Tony. Of age! Am I of age, father? E'en common-council men forget to eat. Hardcastle, Above three months.

The fourth acts shows her wedded to the 'squire, Tony. Then you'll see the first use I'll make of And madam now begins to hold it higher; my liberty. (Taking Miss Neville's hand.) Wit- Pretends to taste, at operas cries caro! ness all men by these presents, that I, Anthony And quits her Nancy Dawson for Che Faro: Lumpkin, esquire, of Blank place, refuse you, Doats upon dancing, and in all her pride Constantia Neville, spinster, of no place at all, for Swims round the room, the Heinel of Cheapside: my true and lawful wife. So Constance Neville Ogles and lears with artificial skill, may marry whom she pleases, and Tony Luinpkin Till, having lost in age the power to kill, is his own man again.

She sits all night at cards, and ogles at spadille. Sir Charles. O brave 'Squire !

Such, through our lives the eventful history, Hastings. My worthy friend.

The fifth and last act still remains for me. Mrs. Hardcastle.' My undutiful offspring! The bar-maid now for your protection prays,

Marlor. Joy, my dear George, I give you joy Turns female Barrister, and pleads for Bays. sincerely. And could I prevail upon my little tyrant here to be less arbitrary, I should be the happiest man alive, if you would return me the favour.

EPILOGUE* Hastings (to Miss Hardcastle). Come, madam, you are now driven to the very last scene of all To be spoken in the character of Tony Lumpkin your contrivances. I know you like him, I'm sure

BY J. CRADOCK, ESQ. he loves you, and you must and shall have him. Hardcastle (joining their hands). And I say

WELL—now all's ended—and my comrades gone, so too. And, Mr. Marlow, if she makes as good Pray what becomes of mother's nonly son ? a wife as she has a daughter, I don't believe you'll A hopeful blade! in town I'll fix my station, ever repent your bargain. So now to supper. To. And try to make a bluster in the nation: morrow we shall gather all the poor of the parish As for my cousin Neville, I renounce her, about us, and the mistakes of the night shall be Off—in a crack—I'll carry big Bet Bouncer. crowned with a merry morning : so, boy, take her; Why should not I in the great world appear? and as you have been mistaken in the mistress, my I soon shall have a thousand pounds a-year ! wish is, that you may never be mistaken in the No matter what a man may here inherit, wife.

(Exeunt omnes. In London—'gad, they've some regard to spirit.

I see the horses prancing up the streets,

And big Bet Bouncer bobs to all she meets ; EPILOGUE, BY DR. GOLDSMITH,

Then huiks to jigs and pastimes, every nightAPOKEN BY MRS. BULKLEY, IN THE CHARACTER OF Not to the plays—they say it a’n’t polite;

To Sadler's Wells, perhaps, or operas go,

And once, by chance, to the roratorio.
Well, having stonp'd to conquer with success, Thus here and there, for ever up and down,
And gain'd a husband without aid from dress, We'll set the fashions too to half the town;
Still, as a bar-maid, I could wish it too,

And then at auctions—money ne'er regard, As I have conquer'd him to conquer you: Buy pictures like the great, ten pounds a-yard: And let me say, for all your resolution,

Zounds! we shall make these London gentry say That pretty bar-maids have done execution. We know what's damn'd genteel as well as they Our life is all a play, composed to please, “We have our exits and our entrances.”

* This came too late to be spoken.






O memory, thou fond deceiver,

Still importunate and vain;

To former joys recurring ever,

And turning all the past to pain.

Hence intruder most distressing,

Seek the happy and the free:

The wretch who wants each other blessing,

Ever wants a friend in thee.



Yet why complain? What though by bonds conACT I.


Should bonds repress the vigour of the mind ? FIRST PROPHET.

Have we not cause for triumph, when we see

Ourselves alone from idol worship free?
Ye captive tribes, that hourly work and weep Are not this very morn those feasts begun
Where flows Euphrates murmuring to the deep, Where prostrate error hails the rising sun ?
Suspend your woes awhile, the task suspend, Do not our tyrant lords this day ordain
And turn to God, your father and your friend, For superstitious rites and mirth profane?
Insulted, chain’d, and all the world our foe, And should we mourn? Should coward virtue fly,
Our God alone is all we boast below.

When vaunting folly lifts her head on high?
No; rather let us triumph still the more,

And as our fortune sinks, our spirits soar.
Our God is all we boast below,
To him we turn our eyes;

The triumphs that on vice attend
And every added weight of woe

Shall ever in confusion end;
Shall make our homage rise.

The good man suffers but to gain,

And every virtue springs from pain :

As aromatic plants bestow
And though no temple richly dressed, No spicy fragrance while they grow;
Nor sacrifice are here;

But crush'd, or trodden to the ground,
We'll make his temple in our breast,

Diffuse their balmy sweets around.
And offer up a tear.

[The first Stanza repeated by the CHIORUS.


But hush, my sons, our tyrant lords are near,

The sounds of barbarous pleasure strike mine ea: ; That strain once more; it bids remembrance rise, Triumphant music floats along the vale, And brings my long-lost country to mine eyes. Near, nearer still, it gathers on the gale; Ye fields of Sharon, dressed in flowery pride, The growing sound their swift approach declares. Ye plains where Kedron rolls its glassy tide, Desist, my sons, nor mix the strain with theirs. Ye hills of Lebanon, with cedars crown'd,

Enter CIALDEAN PRIESTS attenıled. Ye Gilead groves, that tling perfumes around,

FIRST PRIEST. How sweet those groves, that plain how wondrous fair,

AIR, How doubly sweet when Heaven was with us Come on, my companions, the triumph display, there!

Let rapture the minutes employ


The sun calls us out on this festival day,

Is this a time to bid us raise the strain,
And our monarch partakes in the joy. Or mix in rites that Heaven regards with pain?

No, never. May this hand forget each art

That wakes to finest joys the human heart, Like the sun, our great monarch all raptute sup- Ere I forget the land that gave me birth, plies,

Or join to sounds profane its sacred mirth!
Both similar blessings bestow;

The sun with his splendour illumines the skies,
And our monarch enlivens below.

Rebellious slaves! if soft persuasion fail,
More formidable terrors shall prevail.



Haste, ye sprightly sons of pleasure,

Why, let them come, one good remains to cheer
Love presents the fairest treasure,

We fear the Lord, and scorn all other fear.
Leave all other joys for me.

[Exeunt Chaldeans. A CHALDEAN ATTENDANT.

Or rather, love's delights despising,

Can chains or tortures bend the mind
Haste to raptures ever rising,

On God's supporting breast reclined ?'
Wine shall bless the brave and free.

Stand fast, and let our tyrants see

That fortitude is victory. (Exeunt.
Wine and beauty thus inviting,
Each to different joys exciting,

Whither shall my choice incline?


I'll waste no longer thought in choosing,
But, neither this nor that refusing,
I'll make them both together mine.

O peace of mind, angelic guest,

Thou soft companion of the breast,

Dispense tby balmy store!

Wing all our thoughts to reach the skies,
But whence, when joy should brighten o'er the Till earth receding from our eyes,

Shall vanish as we soar.
This sullen gloom in Judah's captive band?

Ye sons of Judah, why the lute unstrung?
Or why those harps on yonder willows hung?
Come, take the lyre, and pour the strain along,

No more. Too long has justice been delay'd, The day demands it; sing us Sion's song. The king's commands must fully be obey'd; Dismiss your griefs, and join our warbling choir, Compliance with his will your peace secures; For who like you can wake the sleeping lyre? Praise but our gods, and every good is yours.

But rebellious to his high command,

You spurn the favours offer'd from his hand
Every moment as it flows,

Think, timely think, what terrors are behind;
Some peculiar pleasure owes,

Reflect, nor tempt to 'rage the royal mind.
Come then, providently wise,
Seize the debtor as it flies.

Fierce is the tempest howling
Think not to-morrow can repay

Along the furrow'd main,
The debt of pleasure lost to-day.

And fierce the whirlwind rolling
Alas! to-morrow's richest store

O'er Afric's sandy plain.
Can but pay its proper score.

But storms that fly

To rend the sky,

Every ill presaging,

Less dreadful show Chain'd as we are, the scorn of all mankird,

To worlds below so want, to toil, and every ill consign'd,

Than angry monarch's raging.





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