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stranger, who views the dignity of your sorrow Eti. Ay, ay; so you say. You call us wretched with reverence, and the severity of your fate with plodders, you know. What do you think of us compassion; be just to yourself, you are not now? My master has been in a fine rage about you guilty.
and Dupré; you must be tattling. St. A. Compassion ? O heaven! Am I not his Pie. Tatiling? son? Not guilty? I'll hear of no compassion. Eti. Ay, you have been telling Dupré something Proclaim our crimes; clothe us in the same in
or other. famy; overwhelm us in one common rain; raise Pie. Me! upon my soul, I – monuments to perpetuate the villany of the house Phil. Well, well, it doesn't signify; whatever of Darlemont; let the name be recorded as pesti- it was, it drove Dupré into the square, raving like lential to virtue, and the race exterminated from a madman, and my master has been raving ever the world for ever. (St. Alme throws himself in an since. He has almost murdered the porter, I can agony on a chair. Theodore, to whom De l'Epée tell you, for letting Dupré out,-against his express has explained Dupré's confession, endeavours by orders, it seems. every means to console him.)
Pie. Letting him out! and why not? where is Dup. Since that fatal deed, my horror and re- he gone? morse have never given me one moment's peace. Eti. I fancy, that's the very thing my master But heaven is just; it has preserved this noble wishes to know. youth, and sends me to unload my conscience at Pie. Is it? I'm sure then he wishes to know the tribunal of the laws. Deliver me this moment more than I can tell him. to them. I know the punishment that awaits me, Phil. Ay, ay, that's your business; but he'll and am resigned to it, too blest at last, if in con- find a way to make you tell him, I believe. sessing and expiating the crimes to which I have Pie. Make me tell! None of your impertinence, been an accomplice, I can repair the evils they if you please, sir. bare caused.
Eti. Don't make a fool of yourself, but come St. A. (Starting up, as if with a sudden thought, quietly with us; we shall all be finely handled for and rushing forward between De l'Epée and Fran- staying so long. vul.) Yes, yes—they must be repaired. Follow Pie. Handled, indeed! Come, I like that, too : me, wretched old man.
handled! Fran. St. Alme, where are you going?
Phil. Don't be too flippant, friend Pierre ; he's St. A. Where despair calls me.
in a most unmerciful humour, I promise you. Del E. Look on your Julio.
Come. St. A. The sight of him drives me to madness. Pie. This is all about that confounded picture, Fran. What is your design?
I suppose. My cursed curiosity will be the rain St. A. To avenge him, or die.-Come, villain. of me at last. (Exit St. Alme, dragging Dupré away with Phil. Eti. Cha. Come away! come away!
him.—Dupré looking back on Theodore. Pie. Well, well; friends, fellow-servants, genFran. I must follow and detain him; or, in this tlemen!
[Exeunt. madness of conflicting passions, he may publish bis father's crimes, and defeat our very hope to save
Scene II.-A Saloon in the palace of Harancour, him from such dishonour.
in which the picture is now placed. Mad. F. We follow you. Well, this St. Alme
Enter DARLEMONT. is a very good young man, upon my word; and, though he is Darlemont's son, I can't help being
Dar. Doubt, horror, and distraction! Where concerned for him, I protest.
now can I look for support? my son estranged De l’E. Franval speaks highly of his virtues and from me! Dupré a fugitive! All torments that disbis honour. Ah! thou poor reed, shaken so long obedience, treachery, and self-condemnation can by storms! How this eventfal day may end for conjure up, beleaguer and consoand me! (A noise thee, heaven knows! But come, my 'Theodore,
Enter PHILIPPE. should an unfeeling uncle persist in renouncing thee, should the laws reject thy appeal, thou shalt Now, sir. still find a warm, though humble, asylum, in the
Phil. We have brought him, sir : Pierre is at affection of De l'Epée.
the door. [Exeunt.
Dar. So! he's in the plot, too. Bring him in.
[Exit Philippe.) Down, thronging apprebensions, ACT V.
down! I shall betray myself. SCENE I.-The Room in the palace of Harancour.
Enter PIERRE, PHILIPPE, ETIENNE, and The picture having been removed.
Tell me, sirrah! whither is he fled ?
Pie. Fled, sir! Who, sir ?
-where is he? Phil. Nay, nay, no banging back :-you must Pie. If you'll believe me, sir, I can't tell. come to my master.
Dar. I'l not believe yoá, villain! I'll have the Cha. Come along, come along.
truth, though I tear it out of your heart. I know Pie. Let me go, I say. I am coming along; but you went to him into his room: deny that too. you have a mind to strangle me before I get there. Pie. Went to him in bis-yes, yes, I did, I beHands off, gentlemen! (Disengages himself from lieve,–I did, sir. them.) I won't be dragged in this manner, like a Dar. (Seizing him.) What was your business lamb to a slaughter-house. What's the meaning with him, then ? of this? What's the matter, I say?
Pie. (Very much frightened.) As I hope for Phil. O, poor innocent creature; you'll know mercy, sir, I only went, after you ordered me to what the matter is, sooner than you desire, I fancy. take away the young Count's picture, just toYou must always act the great man; you must af- Dar. (Perceiving the other servants, he recovers fect to be in all your young master's secrets. himself.) Go; I'll call you, when I have done with
Pie. I! I wish I may be hanged if I know any him. (Exeunt Philippe, Etienne, and Charles; of his secrets,
Darlemont pulls the door very violently.
Pie. Sir, I see I have done something that keenest sorutiny of suspiciou. I hear them. Be alarms you.
their errand what it may, my resolution's fixed. Dar. Alarms me!
Defiance is a champion whose vigour may be Pie. That displeases you; I read it in your dreaded; but Fear, a reoreant destined to fall by looks : bat, what it is, I protest I know no more the very sword which he surrenders. They come; than I do what is become of Dupré.
I must withdraw one moment.
[Esit. Dar. (Having composed himself.) I'm not displeased; you are mistaken. Come, tell me ho. Re-enter Pierre, introducing FRANVAL and De nestly what passed between yon.
L'EPEE. Pierre places chairs, and exit. Pie. Why, nothing, sir ; only, at first, when I Fran. Pray, sir, remember; not one word of said something about your bidding me remove the Dapré. I know him well; to find bis servant his picture, he shook his head, with a deep groan. So, accuser, would rouse his pride to fury, and render to spirit him up a little, I told him,-- as I told you, all our endeavours to serve him, and in him my sir,--that I had seen a young gentleman in the friend, ineffectual. No bint of Dupré's evidence, morning, a stranger, who seemed deaf and dumb, unless be absolutely drives us to desperate meatoo, as like that picture, as if he had sat for it.
sores, I beg. Dar. (Very eagerly.) What did he say to that? De l'E. I sball observe.
Pie. Not one single word, sir; but all the blood flew into his face in a moment, and he sunk on the
Re-enter DARLEMONT. table, weeping bitterly; then he waved his band |( Darlemont and De l' Epée eye each other stedfastly. $0, and I left him. Dar. (A side.) Ha! he has revealed nothing
Franval presents De l'Epée.) yet.. You have seen nothing of bim sinoe, then ? De l'E. Your servant, sir. (Darlemont bows to Pie. No, sir.
them, points to the chairs, and they all sit; DarleDar. Nor of the strangers ?
mont in the centre, evidently struggling with his Pie. Nothing, sir,
alarm.) Dar. Leave me.
Dar. You desire, I am told, to speak with me Pie. (A side.) And glad to be so cheaply quit, in private. May I ask what motive-too. What is the meaning of all this routi í De l'E. The deep interest we both take in the durst not own that I told Dupré the strangers honour of the father of St. Alme, and the soletan were at Franval's, (Going.)
obligation we are at the same time under to fulfil Dar. And-stay within call. [Exit Pierre.). I an act of justice; these, sir, are the motives of know not what to think, nor what course to take. wbich we judged' it proper to request this interIs this fellow's account true, or false ? am I be- view in private. trayed, or not? nor dare I tax him too closely; Dar. (Embarassed.) Does any man suppose my that would excite suspicion. Horrible uncertainty honour, then, in question? 0, let no man ever trust himself into the path of Fran. A moment's patience, sir. guilt! it is a labyrinth beset with dismay and re- De l'E. You are the uncle, and were left the morse, and not to be retrod without a miracle! | guardian of Julio, Count of Harancour. Yet I think, for his own sake, I think, Dupré will Dar, (Shocked.) Well, sir! not divulge me, No, no, this sudden start is but De l'È. Of that unhappy youth, who was de the restlessness of his sickly conscience.
prived by death of the watehsul affection of his pa
rents, and by nature lest destitute of that distincRe-enter Pierre.
tive prerogative of man, the power of appealing Pie. Sir, the Advocate Franval begs the favour against injustice and oppression! of a few moments' private conversation with you. Dar. (Haughtily.) Oppression, sir?
Dar. Franval! With me, or with my son ? Del E. Ha! then you conceive my meaning? Pie. Witb you he said, sir.
Dar. (Checking himself.) If you have business, Dar. Tell him, I beg his pardon, I'm particu- state it plainly. larly engaged. [Exit Pierre.] He comes to tortare Del'£. Do you desire it? me on his side, to prattle to me of his sister, and
Dar. What meansthe match they have so craftily settled with St. DeľE. Are you prepared for plain and honest Alme: but I shall counterwork their project. speaking? My son is good and dutiful, and loves me; and, Dar. I'm not prepared for rude interrogation, though he could withstand my commands, Í (Rises to go away.) know he cannot long be proof to my intreaties ; Fran. (Rises and stops him.) Listen one instant, and the alliance I have provided, is the only imagin- and perhaps, what he has spoken, will hardly be able means of securing me and himself against all construed thus. turns of fortune.
Dar. Damnation! (Aside.) To the point of Re-enter PIERRE.
De l'E. (Rises.) With all my soul. In de Pie. I beg pardon, sir; the Advocate Pranval plain word iben, learn, that chance, or rather that kas sent me back to inform you, that he has imme- good Power that govers chance and the destiny diate business of the first importance, and that the of man, first placed your nephew, Julio, in my Abbé D l’Epée, from Paris, is with him.
hands. This defrauded orphan, whose misfortune Dar. (Starts.) Who?
should have doubled the tenderness of his natural Pie. The Abbé De l'Epée.
protector towards him; this outcast, deaf and Dar. Wbat! the instructor of the deaf and dumb? dumb, is still alive;
and by our mouths now dePie. I don't know, sir; but I dare say it is ; for mands of you the restitution of his name and forit's the very gentleman that stopped me with the tune. young stranger in the square this morning.
Dar. (After a convulsion of his whole frame.) Dar. (Having paced once or twice across the room Lives, do you say? still lives? You will not in great agitation.) Desire them
to walk up. [Exit wonder, if I am astonished, while I listen to fables Pierre.] He in Toulouse! accompanied by a such as these. youth, speaking by signs, pointing out this house, De l'E. No, sir; struck as I see you are by this and like the picture! I'll not believe it. What! discovery, my only wonder is, that your emotions after so many years ? Yet, wherefore should this are not more terrible. very man address himself to me? I must command Dar. And who are yon, who arrogantly presume myself; and by a firm and calm exterior, base the I to interpret looks? You, who attribute the erimes
you first invent for sordid, selfish ends, and dare at which your soul revolts. Have I not witnessed pronounce men guilty in the face of proof? the agonies of your despair—the horrors of your Pran. Not 60; the proofs are ours.
self-accusation? 0, sir, do not make it believed Dar. Away! my nephew died in Paris. that you justify the deeds, which I know you abhor, Fran. Are you sure of that?
Dar. Hence! for ever leave me! I can maintain De l'E. Recollect, sir, that he is your nephew, my rights, though I am deserted by an unnatural and let your conscience answer. Were you present son. in bis expiring moments ? dare you deliberately St. A. Since you will drive me from you, sir, affirm you saw him dead?
I go—Enjoy your riches; but enjoy them in cheerDar, (After another dreadful emotion, and a less solitude: no child, no friend to share them. pause before he can recover himself.) And do you Where I shall hide this dishonoured head, I know know the man to whom you put these dishonour not. But to baunt with savages, or dwell with able and malignant questions?
lepers, will be paradise to that board, where a son Prar. Far otherwise :-we come not with ma- and father must daily meet, blackened with mutual lignity, but with sincere solicitude to save the fa- 1 guilt, and consciously living under each other's ther of St. Alme, the uncle of Julio, from pablic contempt. (Going.) ignominy, and inevitable impending ruin.
Dar. Stay, ruflian! monster!-No, begone Dar. Begone! And if you are vain enough to league with the assassins of your father, and of think your brawling eloquence has power to over- your own hopes; I shall find means to confront throw the credit and character of Darlemont, to you all. (Going.) annul a legal act, a formal register of death, exert that power : I hurl defiance at you.
Enter MADAME FRANVAL, THEODORE, and MAFran. Rush not on your destruction. Confide in
RIANNE. us; and believe that, next to those just claims of which I am the assertor, nothing, no nothing, can
St. A. Confront this witness, too. (Points to
Theodore.). be more sacred to me than the honour of the father
Dar. (Turns round and sees Theodore.) Horror! of my friend.
madness! Hide me from his sight! Dar. My heart throws back the impatation. I
St. A. Turn to him-take him to you: his looks dare your malice to produce one proof, that this suppositious foundling is the descendant
of the speak blessings and forgiveness. bouse of Harancour.
Dar. To be disgraced-never! This is the very DelE. A thousand! The time when he was
crisis of my fate, and I will stand the event. I do found; his transport on re-entering this the loved him not. And you at once decide your choice
look on him. Is this your instrument? I know place of his nativity; his emotion on first seeing Him, or me, you must renounce this instant. (To ihis house,
St. Alme.) Fran, His infirmity ; his striking likeness to
St. A. Put me not to so severe a trial. the late President, his father; the declaration of poor Claudine ;
Dar. Enough—'Tis past-Farewell for ever. De l'E. His own declarations,
(Going.) Dar. His declarations !
St. A. (Falls on his knees, and catches Darleel’E. His.-Be not too obstinately incredu- mont.) In the name of all that's sacred, my father! lous.
You heed me not! You fly me!-Look on me, Fran. Yes ; fostered by his humanity, and
father!-For all our sakes--relent, relent!
Dar. Never, never. guided by his lessons, Julio has found in De l'Epée
St A. O! sir! sir-I must be heard. a more than father : genius has compensated the
[Exit Darlemont in the greatest agony, dragging wrongs that nature did him, and made him, even in dumbness, eloquently intelligible.
St. Alme after him on his knees. T'heodore all
this while in the greatest agitation. Dar. Concerted fraud and artifice! I know my
De l’E. Obdurate man! Be still, be still, poor holds of safety, and despise your menace. His boy, you shall have justice yet. death is registered. Del'e Suppose that register a forgery.
Mad. F. Now, son; can you any longer besitate? Dar. (Aside.) So; then the villain has betrayed 1 delayed the execntion of the trust reposed in me;
Frun. No; I should become criminal myself, if me !
this dreadful memorial must instantly be preferred. Del E. It staggers him ; we triumph. (Aside to Franval.) I see, your lips are ready to avow the (Takes the accusation from his pocket.)
Mar. Then we are lost for ever. secret of your heart. O, for your own sake, listen to the charities of nature.
Enter DOMINIQUE and CLAUDINE. Fran. Free yourself at once from the torments that too long have burrowed in your bosom.
Mad. F. Well, Dominique: well, Claudine ! Dar. Why do I submit to the ascendancy these Heyday! where are your companions ?—What, men assume over me?
have you brought none of the old servants with Fran. (Taking his hand.) Yield to our friendship. you? De l'E. (Taking his other hand.) Yield to our
Dom. It isn't for want of searching for them, prayers.
madam. First, we called at Denys, the groom's ; Dar. Leave me, I say--begone! Never will I --- he and his old wife went out early in the mornacknowledge this impostor! (Going.)
ing, nobody knows where.
Clau. Then we went to the coachman's widow. Enter ST. ALME.
Dom. She was gone to pass the day at her cousin's St. A. O, my father, have compassion on me!- in the country. However, we told all the neighon yourself! my cousin Julio
bours to be sure to tell them they were wanted, the Dar. What, you conspire against me! St. Alme! moment they came back. St. Alme!
Fran. You took care to conceal the motive of St. A. If I was ever dear to you
our sending for them? Dar. Peace, fool ! Join to calumniate your fa- Dom. O, to be sure. You'll never catch me ther, and defraud yourself! (De l' Epée sends blabbing, when I'm trusted with a secret. Franval out; he returns immediately.)
Fran, 'Tis well; wait without. St. A. Do not, do not aggravate our dishonour!
(Exeunt Dominique and Claudine. Releot, relent! Let me not hate myself by know- The facts this paper contains, will, I doubt not, ing that your affection for me led you into crimes, I excite the immediate attention and zeal of the ma[ACT V.
DEAF AND DUMB; OR, THE ORPHAN PROTECTED. gistrates. We must be gone. If St. Alme re- / writing into his other hand, and makes sigus ta kiz turns in our absence, calm and console him, I be- to read it.) seech you! You Marianne, particularly-you, my St. A. (Reads.) “ Half of my fortune must be sister, tell him what I undergo. But, come; a your's, St. Alme--if you refuse me, 1 here roer ageir single moment of delay may-( A noise within.) to disappear, and never more be heard of. From our Nar. Hark! hark! What noise ?
cradles we were accustomed to share every good, like De l'E. It is St. Alme.-Good heaven! in what brothers—and I can never be happy at the expense of agitation! in what alarm !
my friend." Still the same, noble Julio! (Es.
braces Theodore.) Enter St. Alme.
Del E. This single act overpays all I bare doee St. A. O, sir!—My friend !-(Falls on Franval.) for him Fran, St. Alme! Speak-speak
Mad F. The very spirit of the old count.—He's St. A. My father
his father's own son. Fran. Heavens !
St. A. O, that I could efface the memory of the St. A. My father
wrongs ! How shall I ever bear the weight of that De l'E. Go on.
recollection? St. A. Distracted by Julio's wrongs—I ran, I De l'E. (Looking at Marianne.) If this young burst into the chamber with my father-Dupré fol- lady would but kindly condescend to take a tide w lowed, and at once owned he had revealed all to
assist you, you might, perhapsyou; and was resolved (anless he did the young Mad. F. Nay, nay ; reflect, sir, that such an en Count justice) by a public consession to make him wouldthe partner of his punishment. My father shud- De l'E. Bless, for ever bless, two virtest dered-maddening and agonized I drew my sword, hearts, that beaven formed for each other, aš and vowed, if be persisted to refuse his acknow- make the happiness of this fortunate das coe ledgment of Julio, that moment to expire op its plete. point before his eyes. The dread of indelible dis- Mad. F. I protest, I can't
really I don't knsgrace—the cry of my despair-the horror of my
Fran. I am sure,
madam death prevailed-nature triumphed-my father re- Mad F. Upon my word, son, you seem to lented--and with a trembling hand—there, there— suade me to anything. (To St. Alme.) You (Gives De l'Epée a paper.)
not speak, sir; (to Marianne) Do, nor you Mui De l'E. (Reads.) ** I do acknowledge Theodore, anne. The matter has been settled among yea, I the propil of De l' Epée, to be Julio, the lawful Count see, and now you pretend to ask my approbata of Harancour; and am prepared immediately to re- though, after that letter, I assure you, if you bel instate him in all his rights. DARLEMONT. .” To not found a friend to whose intercession Dother thee, all-gracious heaven, be endless praise and can be refused, I should not have been prevailed thanks! (Gives the paper to Theodore.)
with to give my consent. (Theodore, after a son Fran. (Tearing the accusation to pieces.) From from Der Epée, kisses Marianne, and gives her las what a load is my heart relieved ! (Î'heodore, hav- to St. Alme.). ing read the paper, throws himself at De l'Epée's feet, St. A. O, joy unutterable! and kisses them; rises transported, and embraces Mar. How are we all bebolden to your good Franval: then running towards St. Alme, pauses, ness! as if struck by some sudden thought; looks stedfastly De l'E. 'Tis to the prudence of your brother, at him, and runs to the table, where he writes some and to the fortitude of St. Alme, we owe our fins thing under Darlemont's declaration.).
triumph. (To St. Alme.) Consoled by love, by Fran. What would he do? What is his design? friendship, and a father's return to virtue, al can De l'E. I know not.
of regret may well be forgotten, sir; and let us Mad. F. He seems extremely moved.
hope, that the example of this protected orphan, Mar. How the tears stream from his eyes! (Theo may terrify the unjust man from the abuse or in dore returns to St. Alme, takes one of his hands and and confirm the benevolent in the discharge of ai places it on his heart, then gives what he has been the gentle daties of humanity. (Esemet
A COMEDY, IN FIVE ACTS.-BY GEORGE FARQUHAR.
can dance, and sing, and drink, and—no, I can't Scene I.-The Street.
wench. But Mr. Dugard, no news of my son Bob
in all your travels ? Enter DUGARD, and his man, Petit, in riding Dug. Your son's come home, sir. habils.
Old Mir. Come home? Bob come home? By
the blood of the Mirabels! Mr. Dugard, wbąt say Dug. Sirrah, what's o'clock ? Petit. Turned of eleven, sir.
you? Dug. No more! We have rid a swingeing pace
Oriana. Mr. Mirabel returned, sir? from Nemours, since two this morning. Petit, run
Dug. He's certainly come, and you may see him
within this hour or two. to Rousseau's, and bespeak a dinner, at a louis d'or
Od Mir. Swear it, Mr. Dugard, presently swear a bead, to be ready by one. Petit. How many will there be of you, sir?
Dug. Sir, he came to town with me this morning. Dug. Let me see-Mirabel one, Duretete two, after riding, and I shall see him again presently,
I left him at the baigneur's, being a little disordered myself three
Old Mir. Wbat! and he was ashamed to ask a Petit. And I four. Dug. How now, sir? at your old travelling fami- and how fares the young rogue, eh?
blessing with his boots on! A nice dog! Well, liarity! When abroad, you had some freedom, for want of better company; but among my friends,
Dug. A fine gentleman, sir; he'll be his own mesat Paris, pray remember your distance. Begone, sir. (Exit" Petit.] This fellow's wit was necessary
Old Mir. A fine gentleman! But is the rogue
like me still? abroad, but he's too canning for a domestic; I must dispose of him some way else. Who's here? Old and as like you, as most modern sons are to their
Dug. Why, yes, sir; he's very like his mother, Mirabel, and my sister!--my dearest sister!
[him? Enter OLD MIRABEL and ORIANA.
Old Mir. Why, sir, don't you think that I begat
Dug. Why, yes, sir; you married his mother, Oriana. My brother! Welcome!
and he inherits your estate. He's very like you, Dug. Monsieur Mirabel, I'm heartily glad to
upon my word. see you.
Oriana. And pray, brother, what's become of his Old Mir. Honest Mr. Dugard, by the blood of honest companion, Duretete? the Mirabels! I'm your most humble servant, Dug. Who, the Captain? The very same, he
Dug. Why, sir, you've cast your skin, sure; went abroad; be's the only Frenchman I ever knew, you're brisk and gay; lusty health about you; pó that could not change. Your son, Mr. Mirabel, is sign of age, but your silver hairs.
more obliged to nature for that fellow's composiOld Mir. Silver hairs! Then they are quicksil- tion, than for his own: for he's more happy in ver hairs, sir. Whilst I have golden pockets, let Duretete's folly than his own wit. In short, they my hairs be silver, an' they will. Adsbud! sir, I are as inseparable as finger and thumb; but the