Dom. I am fugacious; (Attempts to escape.) away-it was Mr. Sampson she said she wanted to Meg. (Darting at him.) Stay!--Thou tremblest! speak with. (Offering a flask.) Drink of this?

Lucy. I wish he were returned. Dom. I am not a thirst, most execrable-I mean, Dominie. (Without, speaking to Flora.) Avoid thee! excellent

—that is, where is Colonel Mannering? Meg. Drink!

Flora. (IVithout.) This way, Mr. Sampson-follow Dom. Lo; I oboy! (Drini's.)

me! Meg. Can your learning tell what this is?

Dominie. (Without.) Conjuro te-I mean, show Dom. Praised be thy bounty,--brandy.

me to him. Meg. Will you remember my errand now? Col. Here is Mr. Sampson-and now, perhaps,

Dom. I will, most pernicious-that is, pertina- we shall know how to act. ciously. Meg. Then tell Colonel Mannering, if ever he owed

Enter FLORA, followed by DOMINIE SAMPSON. a debt to the House of Ellangowan, and hopes to Flora. Gracious me, Mr. Sampson! what's tho see it prosper, he must come instantly, armed, and matter with you ? well attended, to the Glen, below the Tower of

Dom. Exorciso te! Derncleugh, and fail not on his life! you know the Flora. Exercise me! What is't you mean, sir? spot.

Are you out of your wits? Dom. I do-where you once dwelt, most accursed Dom. Conjuro te! - that is, most accurate.

Flora. Conjure me! You're bewitched yourself, Meg. Aye, Abel Sampson, there blazed my hearth for certain. for many a day! and there, beneath the willow,

Dom. Of a surety, it is my belief-deprecor-that - that hung its garlands over the brook, I've sat, and is, I would confer with the Colonel Mannering. sung to Harry Bertram, songs of the old time.

Flora. Well, there is the Colonel, and the young Dom. (Aside.) Witch rhymies, and incantations. I ladies with him, Mr. Sampson. would I could abscond.

[Exit. Meg. That tree is withered now, never to be green Col. Now, Mr. Sampson, what is the meaning of again; and old Meg Merrilies will never sing blythe all this alarm? songs more. But I charge you, Abel Sampson, Dom, Exorciso! when the heir shall have his own-as soon as he Col. Now, sir! sball

Dom. I crave pardon, honourable sir; but my Dom. Woman!- What say'st thou?

witsMeg. That you tell him not to forget Meg Mer- Col. Seem rather disordered, I think;- but I beg rilies, but to build up the old walls in the glen, for you will arrange them, and explain your business. her sake, and let those that live there be too good

Dom. I will; sed conjuro te!-I mean, I will deto fear the beings of another world; for, if ever liver my message. the dead come back among the living, I'll be seen

Col. Your message! from whom? in that glen many a night after these crazed bones

Dom. From Belzebub, I believe. are whitened in the mould.

Col. This is an ill-timed jest, Mr. Sampson. Dom. (Aside.) Fear and perturbations creep upon Dom. She, of whom I spake, is no jesting person. me! but I will speak soothingly unto her. (Aloud.) Col. Whom--whom did you speak of? Assuredly, Mrs. Margaret Merrilies, I will go

Dom. Belzebub's mistress, Meg Merrilies. whither thou biddest me, and remember your behest.

Lucy. God heaven! was it she whom I saw ? Oh, But, touching the return of little Harry Bertram, I sir, what what said she ? opine

Dom. Prodigious! I am oblivious! Meg. I have said it, old man! you shall see him

Col. Mr. Sampson, how can you trifle thus ? Bagain, and the best lord he sball be that Ellan

Dom. Honoured Colonel! bear with me a mo. gowan has seen this hundred years. But ye're o'er ment. The witch hath terrified me! It was touchlong here. To Mannering! away! and bid him

ing little Harry Bertram. come to that spot instantly, or the heir of Ellan

Lucy. How! my lost brother? gowan may perish for erer.

Dom. Yea! who, though of a tender age, was, Dom. (Going.) I will hie me nimbly, most faci- by a blessing upon my poor endeavours, a prodigy norous-1 would say, fascirating-(Meg motions nim of learning. off-she stands looking after him, her arm pointing in

Col. Well, sir, but what of him ? the direction he is going ) Prodigious! - Prodigious!

Dom. Of a verity, she prophesied his return. Prodigious!

Lucy. Gracious heaven! Meg. Now, then, to complete the work of fate, Dom. And has commanded you, worthy Colonel, though every step I take be on a corpse. I was to attend her summons with armed men, at her born to raise the old house of Ellangowan from its ancient domicile, in the glen, by Derncleugh ruins,- and the moment is at hand, when you shall

Tower. behold

Col. With armed men ?
Bertram's right, and Berlran's might,

Dom. Yea, and speedily, lest, as she said, the heir
Meet on Ellangowan's height.

of Ellangowan perisheth for ever. [Exit.

Lucy. Oh, sir, slight her not! vagrant and gipsy as she is, she nursed my little brother, and was

said to doat on him. 'Tis a wild hope; but, for SCENE II.-An Apartment in Woodburne House-my sake, listen to it! should I find a brother to swords, guns, pistols, &c., over the mantel-piece. protect me, to thank you, too, for all your good

ness! Erter COLONEL MANNERING, followed by LUCY Col. It shall be attended to this moment. (Rings. BERTRAM and JULIA MANNERING.

Enter a Servant. Julia. Oh, my dear brother! you cannot think Barnes, order the servants to provide themselves how frightened we were ! she desired us to go with weapons instantly. (Excit Strvant.] Mr. Samp

snow

son, protect the ladies. Arm yourself, and follow heaven, and never so loudly as at this moment! me; your presence may be important. [Exit. And, yet, you proceed, at if your hands were whiter

Dom. (Taking down a gun and sword from the wall.) than the lily. Young ladies, follow me and fear not. Lo! I have Hat. Peace, you foul witch! or I'll make you armed myself, and will smite lustily in the cause of quiet. little Harry. (The gun goes off.) Pro-o-o-digious! Glo. No violence, no violence against honest [Exeunt Lucy and Julia, running, Dominie Meg! I will show her such good reasons for what

we have further to do - you know our purpose, I after theni, dragging the gun, and awkwardly shouldering the sword.

suppose !

Meg. Yes !-To murder an unoffending youth, the

heir of Ellangowan. And you, you treacherous SCENE III.-The Cavern near the Tower of Dern

cur! that bit the charitable hand that fed you! cleugh-a broken and lofty entrance a' the Top, near

Will you again be helping to kidnap your master's the back, from which des ends a rugged path-adark

son? Beware! I always told ye, evil would come and narrow passage hewn in the rock below.

on ye, and in this very cave. DIRK HATTERAICK discovered walking up and Glo. Hark ye, Meg! we must speak plain to you! down in the vault, near the embers of a fire. My friend, Dick Hatteraick, and I, have made up

our minds about this youngster, and it signifies Enter GILBERT GLOSSIN from the top cautiously nothing talking, unless you have a mind to share with a dark lantern,

his fate. You were as deep as we in the whole Glo. Hist! hist!

business. Hat. Is it you?

Meg. 'Tis false; You forced me to consent that Glo. Are you in the dark, my dear Dirk ? you should hurry him away, kidnap him, plunder

Hat. Dark? Dark as the devil's mouth, and my him; but to murder him was your own device!fire is out.

yours!

And it has thriven with you well. Glo. We'll repair it in a trice. (Gathering up some

Hat. The old hag has croaked nothing but evil dry sticks, and repairing the fire, which burns up bodings these twenty years. She has been a rockbriskly.) It is a cold place, to be sure.

a-head to me all my life. Hat. (Eagerly warming himself.) Cold !

Meg. I, a rock-a-head! The gallows is your rockwater, and hail ! It is perdition! And I could only a-head. keep myself alive, by walking up and down this in- Hat. Gallows! Ye hag of Satan! the hemp is fernal hole, and thinking on the merry rouses we not sown that shall hang me. have had in it.

Meg. It is sown, and it is grown, and hackled and Glo. And shall again, boy. (Producing a flask.) twisted. Did I not tell you, that the boy would reSee, here's something to warm your heart as well turn in spite of you? Did I not say, the old fire as your limbs.

would burn down to a spark, and then blaze up Hat. Give it to me, give it to me! (Drinks.) Ah! again? this lights the fire within. I have dreamt of nothing but that damned dead fellow, Kennedy, ever

[The party appear on the watch in the narrow passince I've been here.

sage. Glo. Come, come, the cold's at your heart still! Hat. You did ; but all is lost, unless he's now take another pull. I left that bull-headed brute of made sure. Ask Glossin else. a farmer, refreshing, as he calls it, with the sol- Meg. I do; and in the name of heaven, demand, diers, and the youngster crosses the heath alone; | if he will yet forego his foul design against his so, there's an easy trick to be won.

master's son ? Hat. No, I'd rather fight for it; a few good blows Glo. What! and give up all to this Brown, or puts a colour upon such a business, ---besides, I Bertram-this infernal heir-male, that's come back? should like my revenge on that Liddesdale bully Never! for the hard knocks he gave me.

Meg. Bear witness, heaven and earth! They have

confessed the past deed, and proclaimed their MEG MERRILIES appears through the dark nar

present purpose. row passage, attended by HENRY BERTRAM and DANDIE DINMONT.

[She throws a little flax, dipped in spirits of wine,

on the fire, which blazes up-at this signal Henry Meg. (In a deep whisper to Bertram.) Will you believe me now? You shall hear them attest all I

Bertram rushes u'on Glossin-Dandie Dinmont

upon Dirk Hatterick, and mast-rs his suordhave said-but do not stir till I give the sign.

Hatteraich suddenly fires a pistol at Meg, uho

[They retire back. Iat. (Who has been warming himself.) Is Sebastian

falls, with a loud scream, into the arms of Din.

mont-he then rushes up to the entrance of the truo, think you?

cavern, he is met by COLONEL MANNERGlo. True as steel! I fear none of them but old Meg.

ING and Soldiers, who instantly secure him and

Glossin-Servants follow with lights. Meg. (Stepping forward.) And what d'ye fear from her?

Col. (To the Soldiers.) Carry off these villains! Glo. (Aside.) What fury has brought this hag we have heard their own tongues seal their guilt. hither? (To Meg.) Nay, nothing, nothing, my good Justice shall do the rest. (Exeunt Soldiers with Glosmother; I was only fearing you might not come sin and Hatteraick, through the passage.) And look to here to see our friend, Dirk Hatteraick, before he this unfortunate woman. Hasten, some one, for left us.

proper assistance. Meg. What brings him back with the blood of Meg. Heed me not-I knew it would be this way, the Kennedy upon his hands?

and it hath ended as it ought--Bear me up-let me Hat. It has dried up, you hag! It has dried up but see my master's son, let me but behold Henry twenty years ago.

Bertram, and bear witness to him, and the gipsy Meg. It has not! It cries, night and day, from vagrant has nothing more to do with life. the bottom of this dungeon to the blue arch of Dominie, (Without.) This way, Miss Lucy- this

way! Where-where is little Harry Bertram ? I Din. I beg pardon of your honour, and these must behold the infant, the dear child !

young ladies; but I haven't got my Sunday's suit Enter DOMINIE SAMPSON at the passage, followed on, and this coat is rather the worse for the two or

three tussles we have had to-day. by LUCY, JULIA, aud Country People, who range at the back-Dominie rushes forward impatiently.

Ber. And can that be an objection to him, in

whose cause it suffered ? You may thank Mr. Dom. (Gazing on Bertram.) Beatissime! It is his Dinmont's courage, ladies, for my life and safety. father alive! It is, indeed, Harry, little Harry Ber- Lucy. Thank him! aye, that we do, and bless tram-look at me, my child! do you not remember him for it. me, Abel Sampson ?

Din. Eh! and heaven bless you, my bonnie lass, Ber. A light breaks in upon me-Yes, that was, wi' all my heart. indeed, my name, and that that is the voice and

(He kisses Lucy, who, alarmed at his boldness, figure of my kind old master.

runs back confused. Dom. Miss Lucy Bertram, look !-lo! behold!

Dom. Prodigious! is he not your father's image? Embrace him, and

Din. Lord's sake forgive me! I ask your pardon, let fall your tears upon a brother's cheek. Lucy. My brother! my long lost brother restored I am sure; I forgot but ye'd been a bairn of my

own. to his rights! Welcome !-oh! welcome to a

The captain here's so homely like! he just sister's love!

makes one forget one's self-and I'm so overjoyed Meg.. (Suddenly raising herself.) Hear ye that! He's like, at his good fortune owned! he's owned !-There's a living witness, and

Dom. So are we all; (Advancing to the Audience.) here - here is one, who will soon speak no more.

and if the heir of Ellangowan be welcomed here Hear her last words! There stands Harry Ber: too, our joy will be -- Prodigious !!! tram-Shout! shout! and acknowledge him Lord

FINALE AND CHORUS. of Ellangowan! (The people shout.) My ears grow dull-stand from the light, and let me gaze upon

Julia. Oh! let your hands assure the youth, him-no, the darkness is my own eyes.

There's nothing now to fear, (Sinks into the arms of Dinmont.

For his return is little worth Col. Come hither, sone of you-bear her to

Unless he's welcomed here. Woodburne House-let all care be taken of her

For there's nae luck about the house, support and bear her gently away, she may yet

There's nae luck ava', recover. (Exit Dinmont and Attendants, bearing off

There's little pleasure in this house, Meg.) And now, Mr. Bertram, I hope no misunder

When your smiles are ava'. standing will prevent your accepting what I most Chorus.

For there's nae luck, dic. sincerely offer, my friendship and congratulations,

Ber. The Heir of El'angouan's fate upon your restoration to birth and fortune. Ber. Colonel Mannering, I accept them most

Depends upon this night, gladly; and if I am not deceived, the wishes of

If you diny him your support, both our hearts may make us not only friends, but

ile's neither right not might.

For there's nae luck, &c. brothers. What say you, sister, am I right? Julia. Oh, she can't speak, so I will. Give Miss

Chorus.

For: there's nae luck, dc. Bertram your arm, brother, and here, Henry, is

Lucy. Then uelcome home the rightful heir, mine ;-and now, let us go in before we talk more

To native halls and lands, upon the subject.

There's right and might, and music, too, Re-enter DANLIE DINMONT.

In your approving hands.

For th:re's nae luck, &c. Ber. My hearty friend and brave defender, come!

Chorus. we cannot part with you yet.

For there's nae luck, &c.

A TRAGEDY, IN THREE ACTS-BY GEORGE LILLO.

Young W.-"THE WEIGHT OF THIS, TO ME IS SOME INCUMBRANCE."--Act ii, sccne 3.

Persons Represented.

Goo WILMOT.
YOUNG WILMOT.

EUSTACE.
RANDAL.

AGNES
CHARLOTTE.

MARIA.
SERVANT.

ACT I.

Cheers them with heat, and gilds them with his SCENE I. Wilmot's House.

brightness.

Yet man, of jarring elements compos'd,
OLD WILMOT discovered.

Who posts from change to change, from the first

hour oid W. The day is far advanc'd. The cheerful Of his frail being to his dissolution,

Enjoys the sad prerogative above him, Pursues with vigour his repeated course :

To think, and to be wretched! What is lifo No labour lessens, nor no time decays

To him that's born to die? His strength or splendour: evermore the same, Or, what the wisdom, whose perfection ends From age to age his influence sustain's

In knowing we know nothing? Dependent worlds, bestows both life and motion Mere contradiction all! A tragic farce, On the dull mass, that forms their dusky orbs. Tedious, though shers; elab'rate without art;

sun

Ridiculously sad

For such ungrateful wretches, to be crush'd

Beneath the ruin they had help'd to make.
Enter RANDAL.

That you, more good than wise, refus'd to leave Where hast been, Randal?

me. Rand. Not out of Penryn, sir; but to the strand, Rand. May I beseech you, sir To hear what news from Falmouth since the old W. With my distress, storm

In perfect contradiction to the world, Of wind last night.

Thy love, respect, and diligence, increas'd. Old W. It was a dreadful one.

Now, all the recompense within my power, Rand. Some found it so. A noble ship from Is to discharge thee, Randal, from my hard, India,

Unprofitable service. Ent'ring the harbour, run upon a rock,

Rand. Heaven forbid ! And there was lost.

Shall I forsake you in your worst necessity ? old W. What came of those on board her? Believe me, sir, my honest soul abhors Rand. Some few are sav'd; but much the greater The barb'rous thought! part,

Old W. What! canst thou feed on air? 'Tis thought are perish'd.

I have not left wherewith to purchase food Old W. They are past the fear

For one meal more!
Of future tempests, or a wreck on shore:

Rand. Rather than leave you thus,
Those who escap'd, are still expos'd to both. I'll beg my bread, and live on others' bounty,
Where's your mistress?

While I serve you.
Rand. I saw her pass the High-street, t'wards the Old W. Down, down, my swelling heart,
Minster.

Or burst in silence! 'Tis thy cruel fate
Old W. She's gone to visit Charlotte. She doth Insults thee by bis kindness. He is innocent
well!

Of all the pain it gives thee. Go thy ways:
In the soft bosom of that gentle maid,

I will no more suppress thy youthful hopes
There dwells more goodness than the rigid race Of rising in the world.
Of moral pedants e'er believ'd, or taught.

Rand. 'Tis true, I'm young,
With what amazing constancy and truth

And never try'd my fortune, or my genius, Doth she sustain the absence of our son,

Which may, perhaps, find out some happy means, Whom more than life she loves! How shun for As yet unthought of, to supply your wants. him,

old W. Thou tortur'st me! I hate all obligaWhom we shall pe'er see more, the rich and

tions great,

Which I can ne'er return. And who art thou, Who own her charms, and sigh to make her That I should stop to take 'em from thy hand? happy!

Care for thyself, but take no thought for me. Since our misfortunes we have found no friend,

I will not want thee: trouble me no more! None who regarded our distress, but her;

Rand. Be not offended, sir, and I will go. And she, by what I have observ'd of late,

I ne'er repined at your commands before!
Is wearied, or exhausted. Curs'd condition ! But heaven's my witness, I obey you pow,
Tolive a burden to one only friend,

With strong reluctance, and a heavy heart.
And blast her youth with our prodigious woe! Farewell, my worthy master!
Who, that had reason, soul, or sense, would bear it

(Going.) A moment longer ? Then, this honest wretch !

old W. Farewell! Stay; I must dismiss him. Why should I detain

As thou art yet stranger to the world, A grateful, gen'rous youth, to perish with me? Of which, alas! I've had too much experience; His service may procure him bread elsewhere, I should, methinks, before we part, bestow Though I have none to give him. Prythee, Ran- A little counsel on thee. Dry thy eyes: dal,

If thou weep'st thus, I shall proceed no farther. How long hast thou been with me?

Dost thou aspire to greatness or to wealth ? Rand. Fifteen years.

Quit books, and the unprofitable search I was a very child when first ye took me

Of wisdom there, and study humankind: To wait upon your son, my dear young master. No science will avail thee without that; I oft have wish'd I'd gone to India with him, But that obtain'd, thou need'st not any other. Though you, despunding, give him o'er for lost. This will instruct thee to conceal thy views, (Old Wilmot uipes his eyes.) Till thou hast gain'd ihy end: which must be

And wear the face of probity and honour, I am to blame: this talk revires your sorrow

ever For his long absence,

Thy own advantage, at that man's experse Old W. That cannot be reviy'd

Who shall be weak enough to think thee honest. Which never died.

Rand. You mock me, sure. Rand. The whole of my intent

Old W. I never was more serious. Was to confess your bounty, that supplied

Rand. Why should you counsel, what you scorn'd The loss of both my parents: I was long

to practise ? The object of your charitable care.

Old W. Because that foolish scorn has been my Old W. No more of that : thou'st served me

ruin. longer since

I've been an idiot, but would have thee wiser, Without reward; so that account is balanced, And treat mankind as they would treat thee, Or, rather, I'm the debtor. I remember,

Randal, When poverty began to shew her face

As they deserve, and I've been treated by them: Within these walls, and all my other servants, Thou'st seen by me, and those who now despise Like pamper'd vermin from a falling house,

me, Retreated with the plunder they had gain'd, How men of fortune fall, and beggars rise ; And left me, too indulgent and remiss

Shun my example ; treasure up my precepts;