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Will. Wasn't I true to you? Look in my |
Ere bright Rosina met my eyes, face, and say that.
How peaceful pass'd the joyous day!
In rural sports I gain'd the prize,
Each virgin listen'd to my lay.
But now no more I touch the lyre,
No more the rustic sports can please;
I live the slave of fond desire,
Lost to myself, to mirth, and ease.
The tree that, in a happier hour,
Its boughs extended o'er the plain,
When blasted by the lightning's power, My posy on her bosom plac'd,
Nor charms the eye, nor shades the
Since the sun rose, I have been in continual
exercise; I feel exhausted, and will try to rest With scorn she hears me now complain,
a quarter of an hour on this bank. Nor can my rustic presents move:
(Lies down on a bank by the fountain. Her heart prefers a richer swain,
Gleaners pass the Stage, with sheaves of Corn And gold, alas! has banish'd love.
on their heads; last Rosina, who comes for
ward singing. [Coming back.) Let's part friendly, howsom
Ros. Light as thistle-down moving, which ever. Bye, Phebe: I shall always wish you
floats on the air, well.
Sweet gratitude's debt to this cottage I bear; Phe. Bye, William.
Of autumn's rich store I bring home my part, (Cries, wiping her eyes with her apron. The weight on my head, but gay joy in my Will. My heart begins to melt a little.
heart. [Aside.] I lov'd you very well once, Phebe; but you are grown so cross, and have such What do I see? Mr. Belville asleep? I'll steal vagaries
softly-at this moment I may gaze on him Phe. I'm sure I never had no vagaries with without blushing. (Lays down the Corn, and you, William. But go; maybap Kate may be walks softly up to him.] The sun points full on angry.
this spot; let me fasten these branches together Will. And who cares for she? I never with this riband, and shade him from its beams minded her anger, nor her coaxing neither, -yes that will domBut if he should waketill you were cross to me.
[Takes the Riband from her bosom, and ties the Phe. (Holding up her hands.] 0 the father! branches together.) How my heart beats ! One I cross to you, William ?
look more-Ah! I have waked him. Will. Did not you tell me, this very morn- [She flies, and endeavours to hide herself ing, as how you had done wi' me ?
ugainst the door of the Cottage, turning her Phe. One word's as good as a thousand. head every instant. Do you love me, William ?
Bel. What noise was that ? Will. Do I love thee? Do I love dancing on
[Half raising himself. the green better than thrashing in the barn? Ros. He is angry-How unhappy I am! Do I love a wake, or a harvest-home?
How I tremble !
(Aside. Phe. Then I'll never speak to Harry again Bel. This riband I have seen before, and on the longest day I have to live.
the lovely Rosina's bosom-Will. I'll turn my back o' the miller's maid (He rises, and goes toward the Cottage. the first time I meet her.
Ros. I will hide myself in the house. (RoPhe. Will you indeed, and indeed ?
SINA, opening the door, sees Captain Belville, Will. Marry will I: and more nor that, and starts back. ]-Heavens! a man in the I'll go speak to the parson this moment house! I'm happier-zooks, I'm happier nor a lord or Capt. B. Now, love, assist me! a squire of five hundred a year.
(Comes out und seizes Rosina ; she breaks
from him, and runs atfrighted across the Phe. In gaudy courts, with aching hearts, Stage; BELVILLE follows ; CAPTAIN BELThe great at fortune rail :
VILLE, who comes out to pursue her, sees The hills may higher honours claim,
his brother, and steals of at the other But peace is in the vale.
Scene ; BELVILLE leads Rosina back. Will. See high-born dames, in rooms of state,
Bel. Why do you fly thus, Rosina? What With midnight revels pale ;
can you fear? You are out of breath. No youth admires their fading charms, Belville, who supports her in his arms.]
Ros. (), Sir !-my strength fails-[Leans on For beauty's in the vale.
Where is he?-A gentleman pursued meBoth. Amid the shades the virgin's sighs
(Looking round, Add fragrance to the gale:
Bel. Don't be alarmed, 'twas my brother So they that will may take the hill,
-- he could not mean to offend you. Since love is in the vale.
Ros. Your brother! Why then does he not (Exeunt, arm in arm. imitate your virtues ? Why was he here? Enter BELVILLE.
Bel. Forget this : you are safe. But tell
me, Rosina, for the question is to me of Bel. I tremble at the impression this lovely importance; have I not seen you wear this girl has made on my heart. My cheerfulness riband ? has left me, and I am grown insensible even Ros. Forgive me, Sir; I did not mean to to the delicious pleasure of making those disturb you. I only meant to shade you from happy who depend on my protection.
the too great heat of the sun.
Bel. To what motive do I owe this tender Dor. To be sure, she never would let any of attention ?
our young men come a near her; and yetRos. Ah, Sir! do not the whole village love Bel. Speak : I am on the rack. you?
Dor. I'm afeard-sbe mopes and she pipes.Bel. You tremble; why are you alarmed ? But your honour would be angry-I'ni afeard [Taking her hand.] For you, my sweet maid,
Bel.' Then my foreboding heart was right. nay, be not afraid,
(Aside [ROSINA withdraws it. I feel an affection which yet wants a
Enter RUSTIC. Ros. When first-but in vain-I seek to ex-lost-she's carried away
Rust. Help, for Heaven's sake, Sir! Rosina's plain, What heart but must love you? I blush,
Bel Rosina ! fear, and shame
Enter CAPTAIN BELVILLE. Bel. Why thus timid, Rosina ? still safe by my side,
Capt. B. [Confusedly.) Don't be alarmedLet me be your guardian, protector, let
me go--I'í tly to save her. and guide.
Bel. With me, Sir-I will not lose sight of Ros. My timid heart pants—still safe by you. Rustic, hasten instantly, with our reapers. your side, [guide. Dorcas, you will be our guide.
(Exit. Be you my protector, my guardian, my
Rust. Don't be frightened, Sir; the IrishBel. Why thus timid, &c.
men have rescued her; she is just here. (Exit. Ros. My timid heart pants, &c.
Enter the tuo IRISHMEN. Bel. Unveil your mind to me, Rosina. The graces of your form, the native digpity of your 1 Irish. (To Dorcas.] Dry your tears, my mind, which breaks ihrough the lovely simplicity jewel ; we have done for them. of your deportment, a thousand circumstances Dor. Have you saved her? I owe you more concur to convince me you were not born a than life. villager.
1 Irish. Faith, good woman, you owe me Ros. To you, Sir, I can have no reserve. A nothing at all. I'll tell your honour how it pride, I hope an honest one, made me wish to was. My comrades and 'I were crossing the sigh in secret over my misfortunes.
meadow, going home, when we saw them first; Bel. (Eagerly.) They are at an end. and hearing a woman cry, I looked up, and
Ros. Dorcas approaches, Sir; she can best saw them putting her into a skiff against her relate my melancholy story.
will. Says I, “Paddy, is not that the clever
little crater that was glaning in the field with us Enter DORCAS.
this morning ?"-"'Tis so, sure enough," says Dor. His honour here? Good lack! How he.-"By Si. Patrick," says I, “there's enough sorry I am I happened to be from home. Troth, of us to rescute her.” 'With that we ran for the I'm sadly tired.
bare life, waded up to the knees, laid about us Bel. Will you let me speak with you a mo- bravely with our shillelays, knocked them out ment alone, Dorcas ?
of the skiff, and brought her back safe: and Dor. Rosina, take this basket.
here she comes, my jewel. (Exit Rosina with the basket. Bel. Rosina has referred me to you, Dorcas,
Re-enter Rustic, leading Rosina, who throws for an account of her birth, which I have long
herself into Dorcas' arms. suspected to be above her present situation.
Dor. I canno' speak.--Art thou safe? Dor. To be sure, your honour, since the
Bel. I dread to find the criminal. dear child gives me leave to speak, she's of as
Rust. Your honour Deed not go far a field, I good a family as any in England. Her mother, believe; it must have been some friend of the sweet lady, was my bountiful old master's captain's, for his French valet commanded daughter, 'Squire Welford, of Lincolnshire, the party His estate was seized for a mortage of not half
Capt. B. I confess my crime; my passion its value, just after young madam was mar- for Rosina hurried me out of myself. ried, and she ne'er got a penny of her portion.
Bel. You have dishonoured me, dishonoured Bel. And her father? Dor. Was a brave gentleman too, a colonel. But begone, I renounce you as my brother,
the glorious profession you have embraced.His bonour went to the Eastern Indies, to bel: and renounce my ill-placed friendship. ter his fortune, and madam would go with
Capt. B. Your indignation is just; I have him. The ship was lost, and they, with all the offended almost past forgiveness. Will the offer little means they had, went to the bottom. of my hand repair the injury? Young Madam Rosina was their only child;
Bel. If Rosina accepts it, I am satisfied. they left her at school ; but when this sad news
Ros. (To BELVILLE.] Will you, Sir, suffer ?came, the mistress did not care for keeping her, This hope is a second insult. Whoever offepus so the dear child has shared my poor morsel.
the object of his love is unworthy of obtaining Bel. But her father's name?
her. Dor. Martin ; Colonel Martin.
Bel. This noble refusal paints your Bel. I am too happy; he was the friend of racter. I know another, Rosina, who loves you my father's heart: a thousand times have I with as strong, though purer ardour :—but if heard him lament his fate. Rosina's virtues allowed to hopeshall not go unrewarded.
Ros. Do not, Sir, envy me the calm delight Dor. Yes I know'd it would be so. Heaven of passing my independent days with Dorcas, never forsakes the good man's children.
in whom I have found a mother's tenderness. Bel. I have another question to ask you, Dor. Bless thee, my child; thy kindness Dorcas, and answer me sincerely; is her melts my heart heart free?
Bel. Do you refuse me too then, Rosina ? Ros. How bless'd am I, supremely bless'd (Rosina raises her eyes tenderly on BEL- Since Belville all his soul expressid,
VILLE, lowers them again, and leans And fondly clasp'd me to his breast: on Dorcas.
I now may reap-how chang'd the Dor. You, Sir? You ?
scene! Ros. My confusion-My blushes
But ne'er can I forget the day,
When, all to want and woe a prey, Will. No; do you speak, Phebe.
Soft pity taught his soul to say, Phe. I am ashamed-William and I, your
Unfeeling Rustic, let her glean!" honour-William prayed me to let him keep The hearts you glad your own display, me company-so be gained my good-will to
The heavens such goodness must rehave him, it so be my grandmother consents.
[day, [Courtesying, and pluying with her apron. Will. If your honour would be so good to
And bless'd through many a summer's Dor.
Full crops you'll reap in this rich speak to Dorcas.
scene : Bel. Dorcas, you must not refuse me any thing to-day. I'll give William a farm.
And O! when summer joys are o'er Dor. Your honour is too kind-take her,
And autumn yields its fruits no more, William, and make her a good busband.
New blessings be there yet in store, Will. That I will, dame.
For winter's sober hours to glean. Will. & Phe. (To BELVILLE.] Thank your Chorus. And O! when summer's joys, &c. honour.
(BELVILLE joins their hands, they bow and
courtesy. Will. What must I do with the purse, your
The following Airs are ommitted in the honour? Dorcas would not take it.
representation. Bel. I believe my brother has the best right. Capt. Bel. From flower to flower gay roving, Capt. B. 'Tis yours, William; dispose of it
The wanton butterfly as you please.
Does nature's charms descry. Will. Then I'll give it to our honest Irishmen,
From flower to flower gay roving, who fought so bravely for our Rosina.
The wanton buttertly. Bel. You have made good use of it, William; nor shall my gratitude stop here.
On wavy wings high mounting, Capt. B. Allow me to retire, brother. When
If chance some child pursues, I am worthy of your esteem, I will return, and
Forsakes the balmy dews; demand my rights in your affection.
On wavy wings high mounting, Bel. You must not leave us, brother. Re
If chance some child pursues. sume the race of honour; be indeed a soldier, and be more than my brother-be my friend,
Thus wild, and ever changing,
A sportive butterfly,
I mock the whining sigh;
Still wild, and ever changing,
A sportive butterfly.
[showers, Bel. How bless'd, my fair, who on thy face On some
her gifts kind fortune Uncheck'd by fear, may fondly gaze ? Who reap, like us, in this rich scene. Who, when he breathes the tender sigh,
Beholds no anger in thine eye?
Ah, then, what joys await the swain,
Who ardent pleads, nor pleads in vain; Which something leaves for want to Whose voice, with rapture all divine, glean.
Secure may say, “ This heart is mine!”
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY THOMAS OTWAY.
REMARKS. THIS interesting tragedy owes its plot and plan to the Abbé de St. Réal's “ Histoire de la Conjuration de Marquis de Bedamar," or Account of the Spanish Conspiracy at Venice, of which the Marquis de Bedamar, the ambassador from Spain, was a promoter. Nature and the passions are inely touched in this play; and it continues a favourite, deprived, as it now is in representation, of that mixture of vile comedy which originally diversified the tragic action. It has been remarked, that Belvidera is the only truly valuable character ; and indeed the principal fault of this drama seems a want of sufficient and probable motive,
The honour of my house, you've done me
wrong. SCENE 1.-A Street in Venice. You may remember (for I pow will speak,
And urge its baseness) when you first came Enter PRIULI and Jaffier.
From travel, with such hopes as made you Pri. No more! I'll hear no more! Be gone
look'd on, and leave me.
By all men's eyes, a youth of expectation, Jaf. Not hear me ! By my suffering, but you Pleas'd with your growing virtue, I receiv'd shall !
(merits : My lord, my lord!
I'm not that abject wretch Courted, and sought to raise you to your You think me. Patience! Where's the dis- My house, my table, nay, my fortune too, tance throws
My very self, was yours; you might have us'd Me back so far, but I may boldly speak To your best service ; like an open friend (me In right, though proud oppression will not I treated, trusted you, and thought you mine : hear me?
When, in requital of my best endeavours, Pri. Have you not wrong'd me?
You treacherously practis'd to undo me ; Jaf. Could my nature e'er
Seduc'd the weakness of my age's darling, Have brook'd injustice, or the doing wrongs, My only child, and stole her from my bosom. I need not now thus low have bent myself Oh, Belvidera! To gain a bearing from a cruel father.
Jaf. "Tis to me you owe her: Wrong'd you ?
Childless you had been else, and in the grave Pri. Yes, wrong'd me! In the nicest point, Your name extinct; no more Priuli heard of
You may remenber, scarce five years are past, Jaf. Yes, all, and then adieu for ever.
ripening. And, buffeting the billows to her rescue, Pri. Home, and be humble; study to reRedeem'd ber life with half the loss of mine.
trench; Like a rich conquest, in one hand I bore her, Discharge the lazy vermin of thy hall, And with the other dash'd the saucy waves, Those pageants of thy folly : That throng'd and press’d to rob me of my Reduce the glitt'ring trappings of thy wife prize.
[arms: To bumble weeds, fit for thy little state :
(Erit. Till for her life she paid me with herself. Jaf. Yes, if my heart would let mePri. You stole her from me, like a thief you This proud, this swelling heart : home I would stole her,
But that my doors are baleful to my eyes, [go, At dead of night! that cursed hour you chose Fillid and damm'd up with gaping creditors, To rifle me of all my heart held dear.
Watchful as fowlers when their game will May all your joys in her prove false, like mine;
spring: A sterile furtune, and a barren bed,
I've now not biity ducats in the world, Attend you both; continual discord make Yet still I am in love, and pleas’d with ruin. Your days and nights bitter and grievous; still Oh! Belvidera! Oh! she is my wifeMay the hard hand of a vexatious need And we will bear our wayward fate together, Oppress and grind you; till at last you find But ne'er know comfort more. The curse of disobedience all your portion. Juf. Half of your curse you have bestowed
Enter PIERRE. in vain : Heaven has already crown'd our faithful loves Pier. My friend, good morrow; With a young boy, sweet as his mother's How fares the honest partner of my heart? beauty :
Igrandsire, What, melancholy ! not a word to spare me? May he live to prove more gentle than his Jaf. I'm thinking, Pierre, how that damn'd And happier than his father.
starving quality, Pri. Rather live
Call’d honesty, got footing in the world. To bait thee for his bread, and din your ears Pier. Why, powerful villany first set it up, With hungry cries ; whilst his unhappy mother For its own ease and safety. Honest men Sits down and weeps in bitterness of want. Are the soft easy cushions on which knaves
Jaf. You talk as if 'twould please you. Repose and fatten. Were all mankind villains, Pri. "Twould, by heaven!
They'd starve each other; lawyers would Juf. Would I were in my grave!
want practice, Pri. And she too with thee.
Cut-throats rewards : each man would kill For, living here, you're but my curs'd remem
(murder. I once was happy.
(brancers Himself; none would be paid or hang'd for Jaf. You use me thus, because you know Honesty! 'twas a cheat invented first my soul
To bind the hands of bold deserving rogues, Is fond of Belvidera. You perceive [me. That fools and cowards might sit safe in power, My life feeds on her, therefore thus you treat and lord it uncontrol'd above their betters. Oh! could my soul ever have known satiety ; Jaf. Then honesty is but a notion ? Were I that thief, the doer of such wrongs Pier. Nothing else; As you upbraid me with, wbat hinders me Like wit, much talk'd of, not to be defin'd : But I might send her back to you with con- He that pretends to most, too, has least share tumely,
in't. And court my fortune where she would be 'Tis a ragged virtue : Honesty! no more on't. Pri. You dare not do't.
Jaf. Sure thou art honest ! Juf. Indeed, my lord, I dare not.
Pier. So, indeed, men think me; My heart, that awes me, is too niuch my But they're mistaken, Jaffier : I'm a rogue master:
As well as they ; Three years are past, since first our vows were A fine, gay, bold-fac'd villain as thou seest me. plighted,
'Tis true, 1 pay my debts, when they're conDuring which time, the world must bear me
tracted ; witness,
I steal from no man; would not cut a throat I've treated Belvidera like your daughter, To gain admission to a great man's purse, The daughter of a senator of Venice:
Or a whore's bed; I'd not betray my friend Distinction, place, attendance, and observance, To get his place or fortune; I scorn to flatter Due to her birth, she always has commanded. A blown-up fool above me, or crush the wretch Out of my little fortune I've done this;
Jaf. A villain !
To see the sufferings of my fellow-creatures, Pri. No more.
And own myself a man : to see our senators