Ran. Poor! poor! and friendless! whither shall I wander,
And to what point direct my views and hopes?
A menial servant!-No-What, shall I live,
Here in this land of freedom, live distinguish'd,
And mark'd the willing slave of some proud
subject,
To swell his useless train for broken fragments;
The cold remains of his superfluous board;
I would aspire to something more and better.
Turn thy eyes then to the prolific ocean,
Whose spacious bosom opens to thy view:
There deathless honour and unenvied wealth
Have often crown'd the brave adventurer's
This is the native uncontested right, [toils.
The fair inheritance, of ev'ry Briton [made:
That dares put in his claim. My choice is
A long farewell to Cornwall, and to England;
If I return-But stay, what stranger's this,
Who, as he views me, seems to mend his
pace?
E'er since we learn'd together, you excell'd
In writing fairly, and could imitate
Whatever hand you saw, with great exactness.
I therefore beg you'll write, in Charlotte's
And character, a letter to my father, [name
To his acquaintance.
And recommend me, as a friend of hers,
Ran. Sir, if you desire it-
And yet-
Wil. Nay, no objections-Twill save time, Most precious with me now. For the decep
If doing what my Charlotte will approve,
'Cause done for me, and with a good intent,
Deserves the name, I'll answer it myself.
If this succeeds, I purpose to defer
Discov'ring who I am 'till Charlotte comes,
And thou, and all who love me. Ev'ry friend
Who witnesses my happiness to-night,
Will, by partaking, multiply my joys.
Ran. You grow luxurious in imagination.
Could I deny you aught, I would not write
Wil. Randal! The dear companion of my This letter. To say true, I ever thought
Sure lavish fortune means to give me all
I could desire or ask for, this bless'd day,
And leave me nothing to expect hereafter.
Raa. Your pardon, Sir! I know but one on
Could properly salute me by the title [earth
You're pleased to give me, and I would not
think
That you are he-That you are Wilmot-
Wil. Why?
Ran. Because I could not bear the disappointment Should I be deceiv'd..
Wil. I am pleas'd to hear it:
Thy friendly fears better express thy thoughts Than words could do.
P. O! Wilmot! O! my master! Are you return'd?
Wil. I have not embrac'd
My parents-I shall see you at my father's. Rin. No; I'm discharg'd from thence-O Sir! such ruin.
Wil. I've heard it all, and hasten to relieve 'em:
Sure heaven hath bless'd me to that very end: I've wealth enough; nor shalt thou want a part.
Ran. I have a part already. I am bless'd In your success, and share in all your joys. Wil. I doubt it not. But, tell me, dost thou think,
My parents not suspecting my return,
That I may visit them, and not be known?
Ran. "Tis hard for me to judge. You are
already
Grown so familiar to me, that I wonder
I knew you not at first: yet it may be;
For you're much alter'd, and they think you
dead.
Wil. This is certain; Charlotte beheld me
long,
And heard my loud reproaches and complaints, Without rememb'ring she had ever seen me. My mind at ease grows wanton: I would fain Refine on happiness. Why may not
Your boundless curiosity a weakness.
Wil. What canst thou blame in this?
Ran. Your pardon, Sir!
I'm ready t' obey your orders.
Perhaps I spoke too freely;
Wil. I am much thy debtor;
But I shall find a time to quit thy kindness.
O Randal! but imagine to thyself
The floods of transport, the sincere delight
That all my friends will feel, when I disclose
To my astonish'd parents my return;
And then confess that I have well contriv'd,
By giving others' joy, to exalt my own.
SCENE III-A Room in OLD WILMOT'S
House.
OLD WILMOT and AGNES.
O. Wil. Here, take this Seneca, this haughty pendant,
Who, governing the master of mankind, And awing power imperial, prates of-patience;
And praises poverty-possess'd of millions: Sell him, and buy us bread. The scantiest meal
The vilest copy of his book e'er purchas'd,
Will give us more relief in this distress,
Than all his boasted precepts. Nay, no tears;
Keep them to move compassion when you beg.
Agn. My heart may break, but never stoop
O. Wil. Nor would I live to see it-But, despatch. [Exit AGNES. Where must I charge this length of misery, That gathers force each moment as it rolls, And must at last o'erwhelm me, but on hope: Vain, flattering, delusive, groundless hope, That has for years deceiv'd? Had I thought As I do now, as wise men ever think, When first this hell of poverty o'ertook me, That power to die implies a right to do it, And should be us'd when life becomes a pain, What plagues had I prevented! True, my wife
E'en slavery itself: yet here I stand,
Except one trouble that will quickly end,
The happiest of mankind.
O. Wil. A rare example
Of fortune's changes; apter to surprise
Or entertain, than comfort or instruct.
If you would reason from events, be just,
And count, when you escap'd, how many
perish'd;
And draw your inference thence.
Agn. Alas! who knows,
But we were render'd childless by some storm,
In which you, though preserv'd, might bear a
pari?
Wil. How has my curiosity betray'd me Into superfluous pain! I faint with fondness; And shall, if I stay longer, rush upon them, Proclaim myself their son, kiss and embrace them;
Till their souls, transported with the excess
Of pleasure and surprise, quit their frail man-
sions,
And leave them breathless in my longing arms.
By circumstances then, and slow degrees,
They must be let into a happiness
Too great for them to bear at once, and live:
That Charlotte will perform: I need not feign
To ask an hour for rest. [Aside.] Sir, I en-
The favour to retire, where, for a while,
I may repose myself. You will excuse
This freedom, and the trouble that I give you:
"Tis long since I have slept, and nature calls.
O. Wil. I pray, no more; believe we're only
troubled,
[ful. That you should think any excuse were needWil. The weight of this is some incumbrance;
[Takes a casket out of his bosom, and gives it to his mother.
I beg that you would wake me.
Agn. Doubt it not:
O. Wil. The lady calls you, here, her valued friend; [plied, Enough, though nothing more should be im- And its contents of value: if you please To recommend you to our best esteem,- To take the charge of it 'till I awake, A worthless acquisition-May she find [ness! I shall not rest the worse. If I should sleep Some means that better may express her kind-Till I am ask'd for, as perhaps I may, But she, perhaps, hath purpos'd to enrich You with herself, and end her fruitless sorrow For one whom death alone can justify For leaving her so long. If it be so, May you repair his loss, and be to Charlotte A second, happier, Wilmot! Partial nature, Who only favours youth, as feeble age Were not her offspring, or below her care, Has seal'd our doom: no second hope shall spring
To dry our tears, and dissipate despair.
Agn. The last and most abandon'd of our
kind!
By heaven and earth neglected or despised!
The loathsome grave, that robb'd us of our son,
And all our joys in him, must be our refuge.
Wil. Let ghosts unpardon'd, or devoted
fiends,
Fear without hope, and wail in such sad
But grace defend the living from despair!
The darkest hours precede the rising sun;
And mercy may appear when least expected.
O. Wil. This I have heard a thousand times
repeated,
And have, believing, been as oft deceiv'd.
Wil. Behold in me an instance of its truth.
At sea twice shipwreck'd, and as oft the prey
Of lawless pirates; by the Arabs thrice
Surpris'd and robb'd on shore; and once re-
duc'd
To worse than these, the sum of all distress
That the most wretched feel on this side hell,
Distracted as I am with various woes,
shall remember that.
[Exit, with O. WIL.
Wil. Merciless grief!
What ravage has it made! how has it chang'd
Her lovely form and mind! I feel her anguish,
And dread, I know not what, from her despair.
My father too-0 grant them patience,
A little longer, a few short hours more,
And all their cares, and mine, shall end for
[Exit.
AGNES enters alone, with the casket in her hand.
Agn. Who should this stranger be? And
then this casket-
He says it is of value, and yet trusts it,
As if a trifle, to a stranger's hand-
His confidence amazes me-Perhaps
It is not what he says-I'm strongly tempted
To open it, and see-No, let it rest.
Why should my curiosity excite me,
To search and pry into th' affairs of others;
Who have, t'employ my thoughts, so many
[ease
And sorrows of my own?-With how much
The spring gives way?-Surprising!
My eyes are dazzled, and my ravish'd heart
Leaps at the glorious sight-How bright's the | In some conditions may be brought t'approve; lustre,
How immense the worth of these fair jewels?
Ay, such a treasure would expel for ever
Base poverty, and all its abject train;
Famine; the cold neglect of friends;
The galling scorn, or more provoking pity
Of an insulting world-Possess'd of these,
Plenty, content, and power might take their
turn,
And lofty pride bare its aspiring head
At our approach, and once more bend before
[wake.
A pleasing dream! Tis past; and now I
For sure it was a happiness to think,
Though but a moment, such a treasure mine.
Nay, it was more than thought-I saw and
The bright temptation, and I see it yet-
Tis here 'tis mine-I have it in possession-
Must I resign it? Must I give it back?
And I in love with misery and want?
To rob myself, and court so vast a loss ?-
Retain it then-But how?-There is a way-
Why sinks my heart? Why does my blood run
cold?
Why am I thrill'd with horror?-"Tis not choice,
But dire necessity, suggests the thought.
O. Wil. The mind contented, with how little
pains,
The wand'ring senses yield to soft repose,
And die to gain new life? He's fallen asleep
Already-Happy man!-What dost thou think,
My Agnes, of our unexpected guest?
He seems to me a youth of great humanity:
Just e'er he clos'd his eyes, that swam in tears,
He wrung my hand, and press'd it to his lips;
And, with a look that pierc'd me to the soul,
Begg'd me to comfort thee: and-dost thou
Theft, sacrilege, treason, and parricide,
When flatt'ring opportunity entic'd,
And desperation drove, have been committed
By those who once would start to hear them
nam'd.
Agn. And add to these, detested suicide,
Which, by a crime much less. we may avoid.
O. Wil. Th' inhospitable murder of our
guest!-
[damning,
How could'st thou form a thought so very
So advantageous, so secure, and easy;
And yet so cruel, and so full of horror?
Agn. "Tis less impiety, less against nature,
To take another's life, than end our own.
O. Wil. 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,
None but the conscious hypocrite denies.
O! what is man, his excellence and strength,
When, in an hour of trial and desertion,
Reason, his noblest power, may be suborn'd
To plead the cause of vile assassination.
Agn. You're too severe: reason may justly
For our own preservation.
[plead
O. Wil. Rest contented:
Whate'er resistance I may seem to make,
I am betray'd within: my will's seduc'd,
And my whole soul infected. The desire
Of life returns, and brings with it a train
Of appetites, that rage to be supplied.
Whoever stands to parley with temptation,
Parleys to be o'ercome.
Agn. Then nought remains,
But the swift execution of a deed
That is not to be thought on, or delay'd.
O. Wil. Gen'rous, unhappy man! O! what
could move thee
To put thy life and fortune in the hands
[well-Of wretches mad with anguish,
Agn. By what means
Shall we effect his death?
What art thou gazing on?-Fie, 'tis not
This casket was deliver'd to you clos'd:
Why have you open'd it? Should this be known,
How mean must we appear?
Agn. And who shall know it?
O. Wil. There is a kind of pride, a decent
dignity,
[tunes,
Due to ourselves; which, spite of our misfor-
May be maintain'd, and cherish'd to the last.
To live without reproach, and without leave
To quit the world, shows sovereign contempt,
And noble scorn of its relentless malice.
Aga. Shows sov'reign madness, and a scorn
of sense.
Pursue no farther this detested theme:
I will not die, I will not leave the world
For all that you can urge, until compell'd.
0. Wil. To chase a shadow, when the set-
ting 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.
Agn. Nor live, I hope.
0. Wil. There is no fear of that.
Agn. Then, we'll live both.
0. Wil. Strange folly! where the means?
Agn. There; those jewels-
O. Wil. Ah!-Take heed!-
Perhaps thou dost but try me; yet take heed-
There's nought so monstrous but the mind of
O. Wil. Why, what a fiend!-
How cruel, how remorseless, and impatient,
Have pride and poverty made thee?
Agn. Barbarous man!
Whose wasteful riots ruin'd our estate,
And drove our son, ere the first down had
spread
His rosy cheeks, spite of my sad presages,
Earnest entreaties, agonies, and tears,
To seek his bread 'mongst strangers, and to
In some remote, inhospitable land- [perish
The loveliest youth, in person and in mind,
That ever crown'd a groaning mother's pains!
Where was thy pity, where thy patience,
then?
Thou cruel husband! thou unnatʼral father!
Thou most remorseless, most ungrateful man!
To waste my fortune, rob me of my son;
To drive me to despair, and then reproach me
For being what thou'st made me.
O. Wil. Dry thy tears:
I ought not to reproach thee. I confess
That thou hast suffer'd much: so have we
[purpose.
both.
But chide no more I'm wrought up to thy
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 costly dagger that thou saw'st him wear;
And thus, unthinking, furnish'd us with arms
Against himself. Steal to the door,
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 grissly death,"
Are with ring in their bloom. But, thought
extinguish'd,
He'll never know the loss, nor feel the bitter
Pangs of disappointment. Then I was wrong
In counting him a wretch: to die well pleas'd,
Ls all the happiest of mankind can hope for.
To be a wretch, is to survive the loss
Of every joy, and even hope itself,
As I have done. Why do I mourn him then?
For, by the anguish of my tortur'd soul,
He's to be envy'd, if compar'd with me.
[Exit. SCENE II-A Room, with YOUNG WILMOT asleep upon a Bed, in the distance.
Enter OLD WILMOT and AGNES.
Agn. The stranger sleeps at present; but so restless
His slumbers seem, they can't continue long. Here, I've secur'd his dagger.
O. Wil. O, Agnes! Agnes! if there be a hell, 'tis just
[Goes to take the dagger, lets it fall. Agn. Shake off this panic, and be more yourself.
O. Wil. What's to be done? On what had we determin'd?
Agn. You're quite dismay'd.
[Takes up the dagger. O. Wil. Give me the fatal steel. "Tis but a single murder:
Necessity, impatience, and despair,
The three wide mouths of that true Cerberus,
Grim Poverty, demand ;--they shall be stopp'd.
Ambition, persecution, and revenge,
Devour their millions daily: and shall I—
But follow me, and see how little cause
You had to think there was the least remain
Of manhood, pity, mercy, or remorse,
Left in this savage breast.
Are these your transports for your son's re turn?
Where is my Wilmot? Has he not been here?
Would he defer your happiness so long;
Or, could a habit so disguise your son,
That you refus'd to own him?
Agn. Heard you that?
What prodigy of horror is disclosing,
To render murder venial!
O. Wil. Pr'ythee, peace:
The miserable damn'd suspend their howling, And the swift orbs are fix'd in deep attention. Ran. What mean these dreadful words and frantic air!
That is the dagger my young master wore. Eust. My mind misgives me. Do not stand to gaze
On these dumb phantoms of despair and horror!
Let us search farther: Randal, show the way. [Exeunt RANDAL, EUSTACE, and CHARLOTTE. Agn. Let life forsake the earth, and light the sun,
And death and darkness bury in oblivion Mankind and all their deeds, that no posterity May ever rise to hear our horrid tale,"
Or view the grave of such detested parricides. O. Wil. Curses and deprecations are in The sun will shine, and all things have their vain.
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With too much rigour, when we meet above. To give thee life for life, and blood for blood, [Going the wrong way. I'd give them all to speak my penitence, Is not enough. Had I ten thousand lives,
Agn. Where do you go?
The street is that way.
O. Wil. True! I had forgot.
Agn. Quite, quite confounded.
O. Wil. Well, I recover.
I shall find the way. [Retires towards the bed. Agn. O, softly! softly! The least noise undoes us.
What are we doing? Misery and want
Are lighter ills than this! I cannot bear it!-
Stop, hold thy hand!-Inconstant, wretched
Deep, and sincere, and equal to my crime. Oh, Wilmot! oh, my son! my son!
Say! canst thou show thy hands reeking with blood,
That flow'd, through purer channels, from thy loins?
Compute the sands that bound the spacious ocean,
And swell their numbers with a single grain;
Increase the noise of thunder with thy voice;
Or, when the raging wind lays nature waste,
Assist the tempest with thy feeble breath!
But name not thy faint sorrow with the an-
guish
Of a curs'd wretch, who only hopes for this
[Stabs himself.
To change the scene, but not relieve his pain.
Ran. A dreadful instance of the last re.
morse!
May all our woes end here!
0. Wa. O would they end A thousand ages hence, I then should suffer Much less than I deserve. Yet let me say, You'll do but justice, to inform the world, This horrid deed, that punishes itself, Was not intended, thinking him our son; For that we knew not, 'till it was too late. Proud and impatient under our afflictions, While heaven was labouring to make happy,
We brought this dreadful ruin on ourselves. Mankind may learn-but-oh!-
Ran. Heaven grant they may! And may thy penitence atone thy crime! "Tend well the hapless Charlotte, and bear hence
These bleeding victims of despair and pride;
Toll the death-bell! and follow to the grave
The wretched parents and ill-fated son.
[Exeunt.
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