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Told all the dreadful tale.

Alon. What groan was thatf

Zan. As I have been a vulture to my heart, So will I be a raven to thine ear.

Enter MANUEL, uho whispers Alvarez.

And trne as ever snuff'd the scent of blood,
As ever fiapp'd its heavy wing against
The window of the sick, and croak'd despair.
Thy wife is dead.

Alc. The dreadful news is trne.

Alon. Prepare the rack; invent now tortures for him,

Zan. This, too, is welL Thefix'd and noble mind
Turns all occurrence to its own advantage;
And I'll make vengeance of calamity.
Were I not thus reduced, thou wouldst not know
That, thus reduced, I dare defy thee stilL
Torturo thou may'st, but thou shalt ne'er de-
spise me,

The blood will follow where the knife is driven,
The fiesh will quiver where the pincers tear,
And sighs and cries by nature grow- on pain.
But those are foreign to the soul; not mine
The groans that issne, or the tears that fall;
They disobey me: on the rack I scorn thee,
As when my faulchion clove thy helm in battle.
Ah. Peace, villain!

Zan. While ! live, old man, I'll speak:
And well I know thou darest not kill me yet;

For that would rob thy bloodhounds of their prey

Alon. Who call'd Alonzo?
Again! 'Tis Carlos' voice, and I obey.
Oh, how I laugh at all that this can do I

(Stabs himself.)

The wounds that pain'd, the wounds that murdur'd

me,

Were given before; I was already dead;
This only marks my body for the grave.
Afric, thou art reveng'd—0, Leonora! (Dies.)
Zan. Good ruffians, give me leave; my blood is
yours,

The wheel's prepar'd, and yon shall have it all;
Let me but look one moment on the dead,
And pay yourselves with gazing on my pangs.

(He goes to Alamo s body.)
Is this Alonzo? Where's the haughty mien?
Is that the hand which smote me? Heavens, how
pale

And art thou dead? So is my enmity.

I war not with the dust. The great, the proud,

The conqneror of Afric was my foe,

A lion preys not upon carcasoe.

This was the only method to subdne me.

Terror and doubt fall on me; all thy good

Now blazes, all tliy guilt is ia the grave.

Never had man such funeral applause;

If I lament thee, sura thy worth was great

O vengeance,' I have followed thee too fn r,

And to receive me, hell blows all her fires. Exeunt.

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ACT L

SCENE I.—A Room in Oakhfs House. - Noise heard

tciihin,

Mrs. 0. (Within.) Don't tell me: I know it is so:

it'.- monstrous, and I will not bear it.
Oak. (Within.) But, my dear!—
Mrs. O. Nay, nay. - (Squabbling icithin.)

Enter MES, OAKLY, tcith a letter. juliowed by
OAKX'y.

Mrs. 0. Say what you will, Mr. Oakly, you shall never persuade me but this is some filthy intrigne of yours.

Oak. I can assure you, my love—

Mrs. 0. Your love! Don't I know your—Tell me, I say, this instant, every circumstance relating to this letter.

Oak. How can I tell you, when you will not So much as let me see it?

Mrs. 0. Lookye, Mr. Oakly, this usage is not to

he borne. You take a pleasure in abusing my tenderness and soft disposition. To bo perpetually running over the whole town, nay, the wholo kingdom, too, in pursuit of your amours! Did not I discover that you was great with mademoiselle, my own woman 'i Did not you contract a shameful familiarity with Mrs. Freeman? Did not I detect your intrigne with Lady Wealthy? Was not you—

Oak. Oons! madam, the Grand Turk himself has not half so many mistresses. You throw me out of all patience I Do I know anybody but our common friends? Am I visited by anybody that does not visit you? Do I ever go out, unless yoa go with me? And am I not as constantly by your side, as if I were tied to your apron-strings?

Mrs. 0. Go, go I you are a false man. Have not I found you out a thousand times? And have not I this moment a letter in my hand, which convinces me of your baseness? Let me know the whole affair, or I will—.

Oak. Let you knowl Let me know what you would have of me? You stop my letter before It comes to my hands, and then expect that I should know tfce contents of it!

Mrs. O. Heaven be praised! I stopped it I suspected some ef these doings for some time past! But the letter informs me who she is, and I'll be revenged on her sufficiently. Oh, you base man, you I

Oak. I beg, my dear, that you would moderate your passion. Shew me the letter, and I'll convince you of my innocence,

Mrs. 0. Innocence! abominable. Innocence! But I am not to be made such a fool; — I am convinced of your perfidy, and very sure that —

Oak. 'Sdeath and fire! your passion hurries you out of your senses. Will you hear me?

Mrs. 0. No; you are a base man; and I will not hear you.

Oak. Why, then, my dear, since you will neither talk reasonably yourself, nor listen to reason from me, I shall take iny leave till you are in a better humour. So, your servant! (Going.)

Mrs. O. Ay, go, you ornel mun! Go to your mistresses, and leave your poor wife to her miseries. How unfortunate a woman am 1! I could die with vexation. (Throwing herself into a chair.)

Oak. There it is! Now dare not I stir a step further: if I offer to go, she is in one of her fits in an instant Never sure was a woman at once of so violent and so delicate a constitution! What shall I say to soothe her? (Aside.) Nay, never make thyself so uneasy, my dear. Come, come, you know I love you.

Mrs. 0. I know you hate me; and that your unkindness and barbarity will be the death of me. OVhining.)

Oak. Do not vex yourself at this rate; I love you most passionately—indeed I do. Thismust be some mistake.

Mrs. O. Oh! I am an unhappy woman.

Oak. Dry up thy tears, my love, and be comforted. You will find that I am not to blame in this matter. Come, let me see this letter; nay, you shall not deny me. (Takes the letter.) [sure.

Mrs. 0. There! take it; you know the hand I am

Oak. (Reads.) To Charles Oakly, Esq.—Hand! 'Tis a clerk-like hand, a good round text; and was certainly never penned by a fair lady.

Mrs. 0 Ay, laugh at me, do!

Oak. Forgive me, my love, I did not mean to laugh at thee. But what says the letter? (Reads.) "Daughter elopedyou must be privy to it - scandalous dishonourablesatisfactionreeenge—um, um, um, —injured father, Hknrv Russet."

Mrs. 0. (Rising.) Well, sir, you see I have detected yon; tell me this instant where she is concealed.

Oak. So—so—so—This hurts me: I'm shocked. (To himself.)

Mrs. O. What! are you confounded with your guilt? Have I caught you at last?

Oak. O! that wicked Charles; to decoy a young lady from her parents in the country! The profiigacy of the young fellows of this age is abominable. (To himself.)

Mrs. 0. (Half aside, and muting.) Charles!—Let zne see. Chariest—No; impossible! 'ihisisalla trick. [himself.)

Oak. He has certainly ruined this poor lady. (To

Mrs. O. Art, art; all art! Them's a sudden turn now I You have ready wit for an intrigne, I Hud.

Oak. Such an abandoned action I I wish I had never had the care of him.

Mrs. 0. Mighty fine, Mr. Oakly! Go on, sir, go on! I see what you mean. Your assurance pro• vokes me beyond your very falsehood itself. £>o, you imagine, sir, that this affected concert:, ihis fiimsy pretence about Charles, is to bring you off. Matchless confidence! but I am armed against every thing—I am prepared for all your dark schemes—I am aware of all your low stratagems.

Oak. See there now I Was ever anything so provoking? To persevere in your ridiculous For heaven's sake, my dear, don't distract me. When you see my mind thus agitated and uneasy, that a young fellow, whom his dying father, my own brother, committed to my care, should be guilty of such enormous wickedness; I say, when you are witness of my distress on this occasion, how can you be weak enough and crnel enough to—

Mrs. 0. Prodigiously well, sir! You do it very well. Nay, keep it up, carry it on! there's nothing like going through with it. O, you artful creature! But, air, I am not to be so easily satisfied. I do not believe a syllable of all this. Give me the letter (Snatches the letter.)—You shall sorely repent this vile business, for I am resolved that I will know the bottom of it [Exit.

Oak. This is beyond all patience. Provoking woman! Her absurd suspicions interpret every thing the wrong way. But this ungracious boy! in how many troubles will he involve hie own asd this lady's family! I never imagined that he was of such abandoned principles.

Enter MAJOR OAKLY and CHARLES.

Charles. Good-morrow, sir!

Maj. O. Good-morrow, brother, good-morrow. What; you have been at the old work, I find. I heard yon—ding dong! 1'faith, she has rung a noble peal in your ears. But now, now? Why suro you've had a remarkable warm bout on't: you seem more ruffied than usual.

Oak. I am, indeed, brother! thanks to that young gentleman there. Have a care, Charles! you may be called to a severe account for this. The honour of a family, sir, 1s no such light matter.

Charles. Sir!

Mai. 0. Heyday! What, has a curtain lecture produced a lecture of morality? What is all this?

Oak. To a profiigate mind, perhaps, these things may appear agreeable in the beginning; but don't you tremble at the conseqnences?

Charles. I see, sir, that you are displeased with me; but I am quite at a loss to gness at the occasion, [set?

Oak. Tell me, sir!—where is Miss Harriot Rus

Cfiarles. Miss Harriot Russet;—Sir, explain.

Oak. Have you not decoyed her from her father?

Charles. I!—Decoyed her—decoyed my Harriot! I would sooner die than do her the least injury. What can this mean? [after alL

Maj. 0. I believe the young dog has been at her.

Oak. I was in hope, Charles, you had better principles. But there's a letter just come from her father—

Charles. A letter!-What letter? Dear sir, give it me. Some intelligence of my Harriot, Major? The letter, sir, the letter this moment, for heaven's sake! [innocence—

Oak. If this warmth, Charles, tends to prove your

Charles. Dear sir, excuse me; I'll prove anything: let me but see this letter, and I'll—

Oak. Let you see it! I could hardly get a sight of it myself. Mrs. Oakley has it

Charles. Has she got it? Major, I'll be with you again directly. (Exit ha<tiltt.

MaJ. 0 Heyday! The devil's in the boy I Whir a fiery set of people! By my truth, I think the whole family is made of nothing but combustibles.

Oak, I like this emotion; it looks well: it may serve, too, to convince my wife of the folly of her suspicions. Would to heaven I could quiet them for ever!

Maj.O. Why, pray now, my dear naughty brother, what heinous offence have you committed this morning? what new cause of suspioton? You have been asking one of the maids to mend your ruffle, I suppose; or have been hanging your head out at the window, when a pretty young woman has

by; or—

Oak. How can you trifie with my distresses, Major? Did Inot tell you it was about a letter?

Maj. 0. A letter!—hum—A suspicious circumstance to be sure! What! and the seal a trne lover's knot now, eh? or a heart transfixed with darts; or possibly the wax bore the industrious impression of a thimble; or perhaps the folds were lovingly connected by a wafer, pricked with a pin, and the direction written in a vilo scrawl, and not a word spelt as it should be! Ha, ha, ha!

Oak. Pooh! brother—Whatever it was, the letter, you find, was for Charles, not for me. This outrageous jealousy is the devil.

Maj. 0. Mere matrimonial blessings and domestic comfort, brother! Jealousy is a certain sign of love.

Oak. Love! it is this very love that hath made us both so miserable. Her love for me has confined me to my house, like a state pensioner, without the liberty of my friends, or the use of pen, ink, or paper; while my love for her has made such a fool of me, that I never had the spirit to contradict her.

Maj. 0. Ay, ay, there you've hit it; Mrs. Oakly would make an excellent wife, if you did but know how to manage her.

Oak. You are a rare fellow indeed to talk of managing a wife. A debauched bachelor; a rattle-brained, rioting fellow—who have picked up your commouplace notions of women in bagnios, taverns, and the camp; whose most refined commerce with the sex has been in order to delude country girls at your quarters, or to besiege tho virtne of ablgails, milliners, or mantua-makers' apprentices.

Maj. 0. So much the better!—so much the better! Women are all alike in the main, brother; high or low, married or single, quality or no quality. I have found thom so, from a duchess down to a milk-maid; every woman is a tyrant at the bottom. But they could never make a fool of me. No, no; no woman should ever domineer over me, let her be mistress or wife.

Oak. Single men can be no judges in these cases. They must happen in all families. But when things are driven to extremities; to see a woman in uneasiness—a woman one loves too—one's wife, who can withstand it? You neither speak nor think like a man that has loved and been married, Major.

Maj. 0. I wish I could hoar a married man speak my language. I'm a bachelor, it's trne; but I am no bad judge of your case for all that I know yours and Mrs. Oakly's disposition to a hair. She is all impetuosity and fire—a very magazine of touchwood and guupowder. You are hot enough, too, upon occasion; but then it's over in an instant. In comes love sad conjugal affection, as you call it; that is, mere folly and weakness—and you draw off your forces, just when you should pursne tho

attack, and folio.. 20f with spirit and the flr? *^r Jwn, broW M her

Oak. Why, what would you^ve'medo?

Maj. O. Do as you please for ou» month, whether she likes it or not; and I'll answer isr it, she will consent you shall do as you please all her utu after. In short, do but shew yourself a man of spirit, leave off whining about love and tenderness, and nonsense, and the business is done, brother.

Oak. I believe you are in the right, Wajor! I see you are in the right I'll do it—I'll certainly do it But then it hurts me to the soul, to think what uneasiness I shall give her. The first opening of my design will throw her into fits; and the pursuit of it, perhaps, may be fatal

Maj. 0. Fits! ha, ha, ha! I'll engage to cure her of her fits. Nobody understands hysterical cases better than I do; besides, my sister's symptoms are not very dangerous. Did you ever hear of her falling into a fit when you were not by? Was she ever found in convulsions in her closet? No no; these fits, the more care you take of them, the more you will increase the distemper; let them alone, and they will wear themselves out, I warrant you.

Oak. Trne, very trne; you are certainly in the right; I'll follow your advice. Where do you dine to-day? I'll order the coach, and go with you.

Maj, 0. O brave! keep up this spirit, and you are made for ever.

Oak. You shall see now, Major! Who's there?

Enter Servant.

Order the coach directly. I shall dine out to-day.

Serc. The coach, sir? Now, sir?

Oak. Ay, now, immediately.

Srrc. Now, sir?—the—the—coach, sir?—that is— my mistress—

Maj. 0. Sirrah! do as you are bld. Bid them put to this instant

Serc. Yes—yes, sir—yes, sir. [Exit,

Oak. Well, where shall wo dine?

Maj. 0. At the St Albans, or where you will. This is excellent, if you will but hold it.

Oak. I will have my own way, I am determined.

Maj. 0. That's right

Oak. I am steel.

Maj. 0. Bravo!

Oak. Adamant

Mat. 0. Bravissimo!

Oak. Just what you'd have me. [It?
Maj. 0. Why that's well said. But will you do
Oak. I will.
Maj. 0. You won't

Oak. I will. I'll be a fool to her no longer. But harkye! Major, my hat and gloves lie in my study. I'll go and steal them out, while she is busy talking with Charles.

Maj.O. Steal them! for shame! Pr'ythee take them boldly; call for them; make them bring them to you here; and go out with spirit, in the face of your whole family.

Oak. No, no;—you are wrong;—let her ravo after lam gone; and when I return, you know, I shall exert myself with more propriety, after this open affront to her authority.

Maj. O. Well, take your own way.

Oak. Ay, ay: let me manage it, let me manage it" lExit.

Maj. 0. Manage it! ay, to be sure, you are a rare manager! It is dangerous, they say, to meddle between man and wife. I am no great favourite of Mrs. Oakly's already; and, in a week's time, I expect tg have the door shut in my teeth,.

fcsWea/Bnmefl andn^^- Sne'snei tmcle; my Harriot's lost £- . . ,

Jfty, 0. G'—0 off witn a man? I thought so; they a?s alike.

vharUs. 0h.no! Fie'I to avoid the haleful match with Sir Harry Beadle.

Maj. 0. 'Faith, a girl of spirit: but whence comes all this intelligence?

Charles. In an angry letterfrom her father. How miserable I am! If I had not offended my Harriot, much offended her, by that foolish riot and drinking at your house in the country, she would certainly, at such a time, have taken refuge in my arms.

Moj. 0. A very agreeable refuge for a young lody, to be sure; and extremely decent!

Charles. What a heap of extravagancies was I guilty of!

Maj. 0. Extravagancies with a witness! Ah! you silly young dog, you would ruin yourself with her father, in spite of all I could do. There you sat, as drunk as a lord, telling the old gentleman the whole affair, and swearing you would drive Sir Harry beagle out of the country, though I kept winking and nodding, pulling you by the sleeve, and kicking your shins under the table, in hopes of stopping you; but all to no purpose.

Charles. What distress may she be in at this instant! Alone and defenceicss! Where, where can she be?

Maj. 0. What relations or friends has she in town?

Charles. Relations! let mo see—Faith, I have it! If she is in town, ten to one but she is at her aunt's. Lady Frcolove's. I'll go thither immediately.

Maj. 0. Lady Freelovc's! Hold, hold, Charles! Do you know her ladyship?

Chgrles. Not much; but I'll break through all, to get to my Harriot.

Maj. 0. I do know her ladyship.

Charles. Well, and what do you know of her?

Maj. 0. O, nothing! her ladyship is a woman of the world, that's alL

Charles. What do you mean?

Moj. 0. That Lady Freelove is an arrant—By-theby, did not she, last summer, make formal proposals to Harriot's father from Lord Trinket?

Charles. Yos; but they were received with the ulmost contempt. The old gentleman, It seems, hates a lord, and he told her so in plain terms.

Mai. 0. Such an aversion to the nuhility may not run in the blood; the girl, I warrant you, has no objection. However, if she's there, watch her narrowly, l harles. Lady Freelove is as mischievous as a monkey, and as cumiinjt, too. Have a care of her, I say, have a care of her I

Charles. If she's there, I'll have her out of the house within this half hour, or set fire to It

Moj. 0. Nay, now you are too violent; stay a moment, and we'll consider what's best to be done. Enter OAKLY. Ook. Come, is the coach ready? Let us be gone. Does Charles go with us?

Charles. I go with yon!—What can I do? lam so vexed and distracted, and so many thoughts crowd in upon me, I don't know which way to turn my self.

Mrs. 0. (Within.) The coach!—dines out!— Where is your master?

Oak. Zonnds! brother, here she is,

Re-enter MRS. OAKLY. Mrs. 0. Pray, Mr. Oakly, what is the matter that you cannot dine at home to-day?

Oak, Don't be uneasy, my dear!—I have a little business to settle with my brother; so I am only juht going to dinner with him and Charles, to the tavern.

Mrs. 0. Why cannot you settle your business here, as well as at a tavern? But it is some of your ladit s' business, I suppose, and so you must get rid of my company. This is chiefiy your fault, Major Oakly.

Maj. 0. Lord! sister, what signifies it, whether a man dines at home or abroad?

Mrs. 0. It signifies a great deal, sir! and I don't choose—

Maj. 0. Phoo I let him go, my dear sister, let him. go; he will be ten times better company when he comes back. I tell you what, sister—you sit at home till you are quite tired of one another, and then you grow cross, and fall out: if you would but part a little now and then, you might meet ——*in humour.

Mrs. 0. 1 beg, Major Oakly, that you would trouble yourself about your own affaire: and let me tell you, sir, that I—

Oak. Nay, do not put thyself into a passion with the Major, my dear! it was not his fault; and I shall come back to thee very soon.

Mrs. 0. Comebackl why need you go out? I know well enough when you mean to deceive me; for then there is always a pretence of dining with Sir John, or my lord, or somebody; but when you tell me you are going to a tavern, it's such a barefaced affront—

Oak. This is so strange now I Why, my dear, I shall only just—

Mrs. 0. Only just go after the lady in the letter, I suppose.

Oak. Well, well, I won't go, then. Will that convince you? I'll stay with you, my dear. Will that satisfy you?

Maj. 0. For shame! hold out, if you are a man.

(Apart.)

Oak. She has been so much vexed this morning already, I must humour her a little now. (Apart.)

Maj. O. Fie, fie! go out, or you are undone. (Apart.)

Oak. You see it's impossible. I'll dine at home with thee, my love. (Apart to Mrs. Oakly.)

Mrs. 0. Ay, ay, pray do, sir. Dine at a tavern, indeed! (Going.) 'v. .

Oak. (Returning.) You may depend on me another time, Major. .- ...-. . \

Maj. 0. Steel and adamant! Ah!
Mrs. 0. (Returning.) Mr. Oakly!
Oak. O, my dear! [Exit with Mrs. Oakly.

Maj. O. Ha, ha, ha! there's a picture of resolutioui there goes a philosopher for you! Ha, CSCrleal

Charles. O, uncle! I have no spirits to laugh now.

Maj. 0. So! I have a fine time on't between you and my brother. Will you meet me to dinner at the St. Alban's by four? We'll drink her health, and think of this affair.

Charles. Don't depend on mo. I shall be running all over the town, in pursuit of my Harriot; at M events, I'll go directly to Lady Freolove's: if I find her not there, which way I shall direct myself, heaven knows!

Moj. O. Harkye, Charles! If jou meet with her, you may be at a loss. Bring her to my house ; j have a snug room, anil—

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