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your hands without a fortune : throw him ten stinginėss, by the balance of power, but I thousand into the bargain.

would make her repate it a hundred times to Whit. Indeed but I sha'n't; he shall run your face, to make her ashamed of it; but mad, and I'll marry her myself rather than do mum, old gentleman, the devil a word of your that. Mr. Bates, be a true friend, and sooth infirmities will she touch upon; I have brought my nephew to consent to my propošal. her up to softness and to gentleness, as a

Bates. You have raised the fiend, and ought kitten to new milk; she will spake nothing to lay him; however, I'll do my best for you; but no and yes, as if she were dumb; and no when the head is turned, nothing can bring it tame rabbit or pigeon will keep house, or be right again so soon as ten thousand pounds; more injanious with her needle and tamboushall I promise for you?

rine. Whit. I'll sooner go to Bedlam myself. Whit. She is vastly altered then since I saw [Exit BATES.) Why, I'm in a worse condition her last, or I have lost my senses, and in either than I was before. If this widow's father will case we had much better, since I must speak not let me off without providing for his daugh- plain, not come togetherter, I may lose a great sum of money, and Sir' P. Till you are married, you mean-none of us be the better for it; my nephew balf with all my heart, it is the more gentale for mad; myself half married ; and no remedy for that, and like our family: I never saw Lady either of us.

O'Neale, your mother-in-law, who, poor cra

ter, is dead, and can never be a mother-inEnter SERVANT.

law again, till the week before I married her; Serv. Sir Patrick O'Neale is come to wait and I did not care if I had never seen her upon you, would you please to see him?

then, which is a comfort too in case of death, Whit. By all means, the very person I want

or accidents in life. ed; don't let him wait. (Exit SERVANT.] I

Whit. But you don't understand me, Sir wonder if he has seen my letter to the widow;

Patrick, I say, I will sound him by degrees, that I may be

Sir P. I say, how can that be, when we both sure of my mark before I strike the blow.

spake English?

Whit. But you mistake my meaning, and Enter Sir PATRICK O'NEALE.

don't comprehend me.

Sir P. Then you don't comprehend yourself, Sir P. Mr. Whizzle, your humble servant; Mr. Whizzle, and I have not the gift of proit gives me great pleasure, that an old jontle- phecy to find out, after you have spoke, what man of your property, will have the honour of never was in you. being united with the family of the O'Neales; Whit. Let me entreat you to attend to me a we have been too much jontlemen not to spend little. our estate, as you have made yourself a kind Sir P. I do attend, man; I don't interrupt of jontleman by getting one; one runs out one you out with it. way, and t'other runs in another, which makes Whit. Your daughterthem both meet at last, and keeps up the bal- Sir P. Your wife that is to be. Go on. ance of Europe.

Whit. My wife that is not to be-Zounds! Whit. I am much obliged to you, Sir Patrick; will you hear me? I am an old gentleman, you say true; and I Sir P. To be, or not to be, is that the queswas thinking

tion? I can swear too, if it wants a little of Sir P. And I was thinking if you was ever that. 50 old, my daughter can't make you young Whit. Dear Sir Patrick, hear me. I confess again; she has as fine, rieh, tick blood in her myself unworthy of her; I have the greatest veins, as any in all Ireland. I wish you had a regard for you, Şir Patrick ; I should think swaté crater of a daughter like mine, that we myself honoured by being in your family, but might make a double cross of it.

there are many reasons Whit. That would be a double cross indeed ! Sir P. To be sure there are many reasons

(Aside. why an old man should not marry a young woSir P. Though I was miserable enough with man; but that was your business, and not mine. my first wife, who had the devil of a spirit, Whit. I bave wrote a letter to your daughand the very model of ber aughter, yet a ter, which I was in hopes you had seen, and brave man never shrinks from danger, and I brought me an answer to it. may bave better luck another tinie.

Sir P. What the devil, Mr. Whizzle, do you Whit. Yes, but I am no brave man, Sir make a letter-porter of me? Do you imagine, Patrick, and 'I begin to shrink already. you dirty fellow, .with your cash, that Sir

Sir P. I have bred her up in great subjec- Patrick O'Neale would carry your letters? I tion; she is as tame as a young colt, and as would have you know that I despise letters, tinder as a sucking chicken ; you will find her and all that belong to 'em; nor would I carry a true jontlewoman, and so knowing that you a letter to the king, Heaven bless him, uncan teach her nothing; she brings every thing less it came from myself, bat money, and you have enough of that, if Whit. But, dear Sir Patrick don't be in a you have nothing else, and that is what I call passion for nothing. the balance of things.

Sir P. What, is it nothing to make a pennyWhit. But I have been considering your postman of me? But I'll go to my daughter daughter's great deserts, and my great age- directly, for I have not seen her to-day; and

Sir P. She is a charming crater; I would if I find that you have written any thing that venture to say that, if I was not her father. I wont understand, I shall take it as an affront

Whit. I say, Sir, as I have been considering to my family, and you shall either let out the your daughter's great deserts, and as I own noble blood of the O'Neales, or I will spill the 1 have great demerits

last drop of the red puddle of the Whizzles. Sir P. To be sure you have, but you can't [Going, returns.)-Harkye, you Mr. Whizzle, help that; and if my daughter was to mention Wheezzle, Whistle, what's your name? You any thing of a fleering at your age, or your must not stir till I come back; if you offer to ate, drink, or sleep, till my honour is satisfied, i vagant baggage, to begin her tricks already! 'twill be the worst male you ever took in your Send them to the devil, and say I wont pay a life; you had better fast a year, and die at the farthing: end of six months, than dare to lave your Tho. You'll have another mob about the house. So now, Mr. Wheezle, you are to do door.

(Going. as you plase.

[Exit. Whit. Stay, stay, Thomas; tell them I am Whit. Now the devil is at work indeed! If very busy, and they must come to-morrow some miracle don't save me, I shall run mad morning ;-stay, stay, that is promising pay. like my nephew, and have a long Irish sword ment; no, no, no-tell 'em they must stay till through me into the bargain,

I am married, and so they will be satisfied,

and tricked into the bargain. Enter THOMAS.

Tho. When you are tricked we shall all be Sad work, Thomas !

satisfied.

[Aside and erit. Tho. Sad work, indeed! why would you Whit. That of all dreadful things, I should think of marrying? I knew what it would think of a woman, and that woman 'should be come to.

a widow, and that widow should be an Irish Whit. Why, what is it come to?

one!- Who have we here? Another of the Tho. It is in all the papers.

family, I suppose.

[Retires. Whit. So much the better; then nobody will believe it.

Enter Widow as Lieutenant O'Neale, seemTho. But they come to me to inquire.

ingly fluttered, and putting up his sword, Whit. And you contradict it?

THOMAS following. Tho. What signifies that? I was telling lady Gabble's footman, at the door just now, that it Tho. I hope you are not hurt, captain. was all a lie, and your nephew looks out of Wid. O, not at all, at a!l ; 'tis well they run the two-pair-of-stairs window, with eyes all on away, or I should have made them run faster; fire, and tells the whole story; upon that, I shall teach them how to snigger and look there gathered such a mob!

through glasses at their betters; these are Whit. I shall be murdered, and have my your maccaroons, as they call themselves; by house pulled down into the bargain!

my soul but I would have taught them better Tho. It is all quiet again. I told them the manners, if they would have stood still till 1 young man was out of his senses, and that you had overtaken them; these whipper-snappers were out of town; so they went away quietly, look so much more like girls in breeches, than and said they would come and mob you another those I see in petticoats, that fait and trot, it time.

is a pity to hurt'em; but to business ; friend, Whit. Thomas, what shall I do?

where is your master ? Tho. Nothing you have done, if you will Tho. There, captain ; I hope he has not ofhave matters amend.

fended you. Whit. I am out of my depth, and you wont Wid. If you are impartinent, Sir, you will lend me your hand to draw me out.

offend me ; lave the room. Tho. You were out of your depth to fall in Tho. I value my life too much not to do that love; swim away as fast as you can, you'll be —what a raw-boned Tartar! I wish he had drowned if you marry.

not been caught and sent here. Whit. I'm frightened out of my wits; yes,

(Aside to WHITTLE ; exit. yes, 'tis all over with me; I must not stir out Whit. Her brother, by all thats terrible! of my house ; but ain ordered to stay to be and as like her as two tigers! I sweat at the murdered in it for aught I know ;-what are sight of him; I'm sorry Thomas is gone; he you muttering, Thomas ? Pr’ythee speak out has been quarrelling already. (Aside. and comfort me.

Wid. Is your name Whittol ? Tho. It is all a judgment upon you; because Whit. My pame is Whittle, not Whittol. your brother's foolish will says the young man Wid. We sha'n't stand for trifles—and you must have your consent, you wont let him were born and christened by the name of have her, but will marry the widow yourself; Thomas ? that's the dog in the manger; you can't eat the Whit. So they told me, Sir, oats, and wont let those who can.

Wid. Then they told no lies, fait; so far, so Whit. But I consent that he shall have both good. (Takes out a letter.) Do you know that the widow and the fortune, if we can get him hand-writing? into his right senses.

Whit. As well as I know this good friend of Tho. For fear I should lose mine, i'll get mine, who helps me upon such occasions. out of Bedlam as soon as possible ; you must

[Showing his right hand, and smiling. provide yourself with another servant.

Wid. You had better not show your teeth, Whit. The whole earth conspires against Sir, till we come to the jokes-the hand-writ. me! you shall stay with me till I die, and then ing is yours. you shall have a good legacy, and I'wont live Whit. Yes, Sir, it is mine.

(Sighs long I promise you.

(Knocking at the door. Wid. Death and powder! what do you sigh Tho. Here are the undertakers already. for? Are you ashamed, or sorry, for your

fExit. bandy-works? Whit. What shall I do? my head can't bear Whit. Partly one, partly t'other. it; I will hang myself for fear of being run Wid. Will you be plased, Sir, to rade it through the body.

aloud, that you may know it again when you

hare it. Re-enter Thomas, with bills.

Whit

. (Takes the letter and reads.] “ MaTho. Half a score people I never saw before, dam"with these bills and drafts upon you for pay- Wid. Would you be plased to let us know ment, signed Martha Brady.

what Madam you mean? for woman of quaWhit. I wish Martha Brady was at the bot- lity, and woman of no

quality, and woman of tom of the Thames ! what an impudent extra- | all qualities, are so mixed together, that you

nes8

on.

don't know one from other, and are all called | ing in Hyde-Park, let the consequence be madams; yon should always read the super- what it will. scription before you open the letter.

Wid. For fear you might forget that favour, Whit. I beg your pardon, Sir.- I don't I must beg to be indulged with a little pushlike this ceremony. [Aside.] “ To Mrs. Brudy, ing now; I have set my heart upon it; and in Pull-mall.

two birds in hand is worth one in the bushes, Wid. Now prosade-fire and powder, but I Mr. Whittol-come, Sir. would

Whit. But I have not settled my matters. Whit. Sir, what's the matter?

Wid. O, we'll settle 'em in a trice, I warWid. Nothing at all, Sir ; pray go on.

rant you.

[Puts herself in a position. Whit. “ Madam, -As I prefer your happi- Whit. But I don't understand the sword; I

to the indulgence of my oun piis- had rather fight with pistols. sions"

Wid. I am very happy it is in my power to Wid. I will not prefer your happiness to the oblige you ; there, Sir, take your choice ; I indulgence of my passions—Mr. Whittol, rade will plase you if I can. [Offers pistols.

Whit. Out of the pan into the tire! there's Whic. “ I must confess that I am unworthy of no putting him off'; if I had chosen poison, I your charms and rirtues."

dare swear he had arsenic in his pocket. Wid. Very unworthy indeed ; rade on, Sir. (Aside.] Look ye, young gentleman, I am an

Whit. “ I have, for some days, had a serere old man, and you'll get no credit by killing struggle between my justice and my passion": me; but I have a nephew as young as your

Wid. I have had no struggle at all: my jus- self, and you'll get more honour in facing him. tice and passion are agreed.

Wid. Ay, and more pleasure too-I expect Whit. “ The former has prerailed, and I beg ample satisfaction from him, after I have done leare to resign you, with all your accomplish- your business; prepare, Sir. ments, to some more deserring, though not more Whit. What the devil; wont one serve your admiring servant, than your miserable and de- turn? I can't fight, and I wont fight; I'll do roted,

THOMAS WHITTLE. any thing rather than fight; I'll marry your Wid. And miserable and devoted you shall sister ; my nephew shall marry her; I'll give be-to the postscript: rade on.

him all my fortune; what would the fellow Whit. “ Postscript:-let me hare your pity, have? Here, nephew! Thomas! murder! but not your anger.'

murder !

[He flies, and she pursues. Wid. In answer to this love epistle, (Snatches the letter.) you pitiful fellow, my sister pre

Enter Bates and NEPHEW. sents you with lier tinderest wishes, and assures you that you have, as you desire, her Nep. What's the matter, uncle ? pity, and she generously throws her contempt Whit. Murder, that's all; that ruffian there too into the bargain.

would kill me, and eat me afterwards. (Tears the letter, and throws it at him. Nep. I'll find a way to cool bim! come out, Whit. I'm infinitely obliged to her.

Sir, I am as mad as yourself'; I'll match you, Wid. I must beg lave in the name of all our I warrant you. family to present the same to you.

Wid. l'll follow you all the world over. Whit. I am ditio to all the family.

Whit. Stay, stay, nephew, you sha'n't fight; Wid. But as a brache of promise to any of we shall be exposed all over the town, and our family was never suffered without a brache you may lose your life, and I shall be cursed into somebody's body, I have fixed upon my- from morning to night; do, nephew, make self to be your operator; and I believe that yourself and me happy, be the olive-branch, you will find that I have as fine a hand at this and bring peace into my family; return to the work, and will give you as little pain, as any widow ; I will give you my consent, and your in the three kingdonis.

fortune, and a fortune for the widow, tive thou. [Sils down and looses her knee-bands. sand pounds! Do persuade him, Mr. Bates. Whit. For Heaven's sake, captain, what are Butes. Do, Sir; this is a very critical point you about?

of your life; I know you love her ; 'tis the Wid. I always loosen my garters for the only method to restore us all to our senses. advantage of lunging; it is for your sake as Nep. I must talk in private first with this well as my own, for I will be twice through hot young gentleman. your body, before you shall feel me once. Wid. As private as you plase, Sir.

Whit. What a terrible fellow it is! I wish Whit. Take their weapons away, Mr. Bates ; Thomas would come in.

[Aside. and do you follow me to my study, to witness Wid. Come, Sir, prepare yourself ; you are my proposal ; it is all ready, and only wants not the first, by half a score, that I have, ruu signing ; come along, come along. [Erit. through and through the heart, before they Bales. Victoria ! victoria ! give me your knew what was the matter with them.

swords and pistols; and now do your worst, Whit. But, captain, suppose I will marry you spirited, loving, young couple; I could your sister ?

leap out of my skin!

[Exit. Wid. I have not the laste objection, if you Nep.O my charning, widow; what a day recover of your wounds. Callaghan O'Connor have we gone through! lives very happy with my greut aunt, Mrs. Wid. I would go through ten times as Deborah O'Neale, in the county of Gallway; much to deceive an old, amorous spark, like except a small asthma he got by my running your uncle, to purchase a young one, like his him through the lungs, at the Currough: he nephew. would have forsaken her, if I had not stopped Wep. I listened at the door all this last his perfidy by a famous family styptic I have scene; my heart was agitated with ten thouhere : 0, ho! my little old boy, but you shall sand fears; suppose my uncle bad been stout,

[Draus. and drawn bis sword. Whit. What shall I do?-well, Sir, if I Wid. I should have run away as he did; must, I must; I'll meet you to-morrow morn- when two cowards ineet, the struggle is who

get it.

shall run first ; and sure I can beat an old man hung by your horns in the stirrup to the great at any thing.

joy of the whole town. Nep. Permit me thus to seal my happiness. Whit. What, have you helped to trick me?

(Kisses her. Tho. Into happiness. You have been foolish

a long while, turn about and be wise; he has Enter WHITTLE and BATES; WHITTLE stares.

got the woman and his estate, give them your Bates, Confusion !

[Aside. blessing, which is not worth much, and live Whit. [ Turning to Bates.] Hey-day! I am like a Christian for the future. afraid his head is not right yet! he was kneel- Whit. I will, if I can; but I can't look at ing and kissing the captain's hand.

'em; I can't bear the sound of my voice, nor Bates. Take no notice, all will come about the sight of my own face: look ye, I am dis

[Aside. tressed and distracted! and can't come to yet; Wid. I find, Mr. Whittol, your family loves I will be reconciled if possible ; but don't let kissing better than fighting ; he swears, I am me see or hear from you, if you would have me as like my sister as two pigeons.

forget and forgive you-I shall never lift up

my head again? Enter Sir PATRICK O'NEALE.

Wid. I hope, Sir Patrick, that my preferring Sir P. I hope, Mr. Wbizzle, you'll excuse the nephew to the uncle will meet with your my coming back to give you an answer, with approbation ? out having any to give; I hear a grate dale of

Sir P. You are out of my hands, Pat, so if news about myself, and came to know if it be you wont trouble me with your afflictions, I true; they say my son is in London, when he shall sincerely rejoice at your felicity. tells me himself, by letter here, that he's at

Nep. It would be a great abatement of my Limerick ; and I have been with my daughter present

joy, could I believe that this lady to tell her the news, but she would not stay at should be assisted in her happiness, or be suphome to receive it, so I am come-O grama-ported in her afflictions, by any one but her chree! my little din ousil craw, what have we

lover and husband. got here? a piece of mummery, here is my estate gives every ting but ideas, and them

Sir P. Fine notions are fine tings, but a fine waring the breeches, Pat, to see how they be too, if you'll appale to those who help you to come you when you are Mrs. Weezel? spend it—what say you, widow ?

Wid. I beg your pardon for that, Sir! I wear Wid. By your and their persuasion I will them before marriage, because I think they tell my mind to this good company; and for become a woman better than after.

fear my words should want ideas too, I will Whit. What, is not this your son?

add an Irish tune, that may carry off a bad

[Astonished. voice, and bad matter. Sir P. No, but it is my daughter, and that A widow bewitch'd with her passion, is the same thing.

Though Irish, is now quite asham'd, Wid. And your niece, Sir, which is better To think that she's so out of fashion, than either.

To marry, and then to be tamed. Whit. Mighty well! and I suppose you

'Tis love, the dear joy, have not lost your wits, young man?

That old-fashion'd boy,
Nep. I sympathize with you, Sir; we lost Has got in my breast with his quiver ;
'em together, and found 'em at the same time. The blind urchin he,
Whit. Here's villany! Mr. Bates, give me

Struck the cush la maw cree, the

paper; not a farthing skall they have till And a husband secures me for ever! the law gives it 'em.

Ye, fair ones, I hope, will excuse me, Bates. We'll cheat

the law, and give it them Though vulgar, pray do not abuse me.

[Gives NEPHEW the paper. I cannot become a fine lady, Whit. He may take his own, but he sha'n't O love has bewitch'd widow Brady. have a sixpence of the five thousand pounds 1 Ye critics, to murder so willing, promised him.

Pray see all our errors with blindness, Bates. Witness, good folks, he owns to the For once change your method of killing, promise.

And kill a fond widow with kindness; Sir P. Fait, I'll witness dat, or any thing If you look so severe, else in a good cause.

In a fit of despair, Whit. What, am I choused again?

Again will I draw forth my steel, Sirs; Bates. Why, should not my friend be choused

You know I've the art, out of a little justice for the first time? Your To be twice through your heart, hard usage has sharpened your nephew's * Before I can once make you feel, Sirs. wits; therefore, ben are, don't play with edge- Brother soldiers, I hope you'll protect me. tools, you'll only cut your fingers.

Nor let cruel critics dissect me; Sir P. And your trote too, which is all one; To favour my cause be but ready, therefore, to make all asy, marry my daugh- And grateful you'll find widow Brady. ter first, and then quarrel with her afterwards; that will be in the natural course of things.

To all that I see here before me, Whit. Here, Thomas ! where are you?

The bottom, the top, and the middle,

For music we now must implore you,
Enter THOMAS.

No wedding without pipe and fiddle;

If all are in tune, Here are fine doings ! I am deceived, tricked, Pray let it be soon, and cheated!

My heart in my bosom is prancing! Tho. I wish you joy, Sir ; the best thing that If your hands should unite, could have happened to you; and as a faith

To give us delight, sul servant I have done my best to check you. 0, that's the best piping and dancing! Whit. To check me !

Your plaudits to me are a treasure, Tho. You were galloping full speed, and Your smiles are a dow'r for a lady; down hill too, and if we had not laid iold of the 0, joy to you all in full measure, bridle, being a bad jockey, you would have So wishes, and prays, widow Brady.

now.

ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM:

A TRAGEDY,

IN FIVE ACTS.

BY GEORGE LILLO.

REMARKS.

WE have before alluded to this Play, (in our remarks on the Author's Tragedy of Fatal Curiosity,) as founded on a well-known domestic trouble, recorded by Hollinshed, in his chronicle; and by Jacob, in his History of Feversham.In 1592, a tragedy under the same title was published, by an anonymus writer ; and in 1770 was reprinted by Edward Jacob, with an absurd preface, imputing it to Shakspeare. From this, Mr. Lillo formed the present tragedy, which he is said to have left unfinished to the care of Dr. John Hoadly, by whom it was completed.

With some alteration, this piece might be well adapted for modern representation ; it is pathetic and interesting, with many well-written passages. The last act in particular, with the death of Arden by the villany of Mosby, and the despair of Alicia, is not only deeply affecting, but is a sad proof of the folly and danger of the slightest acquaintance or association with the depraved. In 1790, Mr. Holman produced this tragedy, with alterations, for his benefit.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

DRURY LANE.
The MAYOR OF FEVERSHAM,

Mr. Burton.
ARDEN, a Gentleman of Feversham,

Mr. Havard.
FRANKLIN, his Friend,

Mr. Scrase.
MICHAEL, Arden's Servant,

Mr. Wignell.
GREEN,

Mr. Packer.
Mosby,

Mr. Bransby.
BRADSHAW,

Mr. Johnston,
BLACK WILL,
Ruffians.

Mr. Phillips.
GEORGE SHAKEBAG,

Mr. Vaughan.
ADAM Fowl, an Innkeeper.
OFFICERS, &c.
A SERVANT to Arden.
ALICIA, Wife to Arden,

A young Gentlewomun.
MARIA, Sister to Mosby,

Miss Barton.
SCENE,-Feversham in Kent.

.

.

ACT I.

For th' abbey-lands, to which the hot youth pleads

[fav'rite; SCENE I.-The Street before ARDEN's door. Some fancied right.-Michael, the trencher

A bastard, bred of Arden's charity :
Mosby, alone.

He has been privy to our secret joys, Mos. The morning's dark, and horrid as my And, on that trust presuming, loves my sisterpurpose.

[life, Winks at adultery, and may at murder. Thrice have my snares been laid for Arden's Maria is his price. I've plac'd her here, And thrice has he escap'd.-I am not safe : Companion of my sweet Alicia's hours, The living may revenge.-Oh! could I win To spread her charms for ever in his eye: Alicia to conspire her husband's fall,

To her are all my visits. But--AliciaThen might I say, security, thou'rt mine, She must, she shall comply: when to my arms And laugh at all to come. -For other instru- Her honour she resign'd, her fond reluctance ments,

[suit

whisper'd, There's Green : he bears him hard about this She could deny me nothing. (Exit into ARDEN'S.

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