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went pasta for an other person; and I am so
well citised of the reutile of her affections,
that I w... support them with my fortune, my ho-
Bour, and my life.—Ea, sha'u't İ, Mr. Sterling?ife.
What say you?

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[S] To be sure, my lord. These bawing women have been the ruin of everything. [Anie. L0. B, come, I'll end this business in a trive—It you, lales, will compose yourselves, and Mr. Steung la ensare Miss Fanny from violence, I will engage to draw her from her pillow with a whisper through the key-ble.

Mrs. H. The horrid creatures—I say, my lord, break the door open.

Les O. Let me beg of your delicacy not to be too pre-pitate! Now to our experiment!

[4isaning towards the door. M. S. Now, what will they do? My heart will beat through my besoin.

Re-enter BETTY with the key

Bet. There's no occasion for breaking open doors, myri; we have done nothing that we ought to be ashamed of, and my mistress shall face her ene[Going to unlock the door.

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Mr. H. There's impudence! Lord (). The mystery thickens. Lady of the Deschamber, To Besty. open the door, and entreat Sir John Melvil (for the lates will have it that he is there) to appear, and answer to high crimes and mis-jemeanors. Call Sir John Melvil into court!

Enter Sir JOHN MELVIL.

Sir J. I am here, my lori.
Mr. H. Hey-day!

Sir J. What's all this alarm and confusion? There is nothing but hurry in this house? What is the reason of it?

Lord O. Because you have been in that chamber; -have been nay, you are there at this moment, as these ladies have protested, so don't deny itTrar. This is the clearest alibi I ever knew, Mr.

Sergeant.

Flow. Luce clarius,

174 0. Upon my word, ladies, if you have often these frolics, it would be really entertaining to pass a whole summer with you. But, come, To Betty open the door and entreat your amiable mistress to come forth, and dispel all our doubts with her smiles. Bet. [Opening the door.] Madam, you are wanted in this room. [Pertly

Enter FANNY, in great confusion. Miss S. You see she's ready dressed-and what confusion she's in.

Mrs. H. Ready to pack off, bag and baggage! Her guilt confounds her!

Flow. Silence in the court, ladies.

Fan. I am confounded indeed, madam. Lord O. Don't droop, my beauteous lily! but with your own peculiar modesty declare your state of mind. Pour conviction into their ears, and rapture into mine. [Smiling. Fan. I am, at this moment, the most unhappymost distressed-the tumult is too much for my heart and I want the power to reveal a secret, which, to conceal, has been the misfortune and misery of my― [Faints away.

were lost in this. Speak, speak, speak to y
dearest Fanny let me but hear thy voice: 2
your eyes, and bless me with the smallest sig. f
Miss S. Lovewell!—I am easy.
Mr. H. I am thunderstruck!
Lord O. I am petrified!

Sir J. And I undone.

Fan. [Recovering. O, Lovewell' even supperee by thee, I dare not look my father not his hirady in the face.

Ster. What now, did not I send you to Lands sir?

Lord 0. Eh! What? How's this? By what right and title have you been half the night in that lady's bed-chamber?

Lore. By that right which makes me the hippiest of men; and by a title which I would at forego for any the best of kings could give.

Bet. I could cry my eyes out to hear his magn nimity.

Lord O. I am annihilated!

Ster. I have been choked with rage and wonder; but now I can speak.-Lovewell, you are a villas, -you have broken your word with me.

Fan. Indeed, sir, he has not: you forbade him to think of me, when it was out of his power to obey you-we have been married these four months.

Ster. And he shat stay in my house four hours. What baseness and treachery! As for you, you shall repent this step as long as you live, madam!

Fan. Indeed, sur, it is impossible to conceive the tortures I have already endured in consequence of my disobedience. My heart has continually upbraided me for it; and though I was too weak to struggle with affection, I feel that I must be miserable for ever without your forgiveness.

Ster. Lovewell, you shail leave my house di rectly; and you shall follow him, madam!

Lord 0. And if they do, I will receive them into mine. Lookye, Mr. Sterling, there have been some mistakes, which we had a better forget for our own sakes; and the best way to forget them, is to forgive the cause of them, which I do frem my soul. life and fortune; it is a debt of honour, and must Poor girl! I swore to support her affection with my be paid. You swore as much too, Mr. Stering; but your laws in the city will excuse yon. I suppose; for you never strike a balance witho errors excepted.

Ster. I am a father, my lord; but for the sake of other fathers, I think I ought not to forgive her, for fear of encouraging other silly girls, like herself to throw themselves away without the censent of their parents.

Love. I hope there will be no danger of that, sit Young ladies, with minds like my Panny's, we startle at the very shadow of vice; and when try know to what uneasiness only an indiscretion bas exposed her, her example, instead of encourging will rather serve to deter them.

Mrs. H. Indiscretion, quotha! a mighty pry delicat word to express disobedience!

Lord O. For my part, I indulge my own pass too much to tyrannize over those of other peop Pool souls! I pity them. And you must give them, too. Come, come, melt a little of your flint, Mr. Sterling.

LOVEWELL rushes out of the chamber. Ster. Why, why as to that, my lord-to be $5, Love. My Fanny in danger! I can contain no sister Heidelberg ? he is a relation of your's, my lord-What say you, longer. Prudence were now a crime; all other cares

Mrs. H. The girl's ruined, and I forgive her.

Ster. Well! so do I then. Nay, no thanks. [To deserve any. All I have to offer in excuse for OVE. and FAN. who seem preparing to speak.] There's what has happened, is my total ignorance of your end of the matter. [Exit FLOW. TRAV. and BET. situation. Had you dealt a little more openly with Lord O. But, Lovewell, what makes you dumb me, you would have saved me, yourself, and that 1 this while? lady, (who I hope will pardon my behaviour) a great deal of uneasiness. Give me leave, however, to assure you, that light and capricious as I may have appeared, now my infatuation is over, I have sensibility enough to be ashamed of the part I have acted, and honour enough to rejoice at your happiness.

Love. Your kindness, my lord. can scarcely lieve my own senses-they are all in a tumult of ar, joy, love, expectation, and gratitude. I ever as, and am now more bound in duty to your lord ip.-For you, Mr. Sterling, if every moment of -y life, spent gratefully in your service, will, in me measure, compensate the want of fortune, you, Love. And now, my dearest Fanny, though we rhaps, will not repent your goodness to me. And are, seemingly, the happiest of beings, yet all our u, ladies, I flatter myself, will not, for the future, joys would be damped, if his lordship's generosity aspect me of artifice and intrigue-I shall be hap- and Mr. Sterling's forgiveness should not be sucy to oblige and serve you. As for you, Sir John-ceeded by the indulgence, approbation, and consent Sir J. No apologies to me, Lovewell; I do not of these our best benefactors. [To the audience.

CYMON:

A DRAMATIC ROMANCE, IN THREE ACTS

BY DAVID GARRICK.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

MERLIN

CYMON

DORUS

LINCO

DAMON

DORILAS

HYMEN

CUPID

Knights
Shepherds.

URGANDA
SYLVIA

FATIMA

DORCAS

Shepherdesses.

ACT I.

SCENE L-Urganda's Palace

Enter MERLIN and URGANDA,

Mer. Hear you! I have heard you; for years have heard your vows, your protestations. Have you not allured my affections by every female art? and when I thought that my unalterable passion wa to be rewarded for its constancy, what have you done? Why, like mere mortal woman, in the true spirit of frailty, have given up me and my hopesfor what a boy! an idiot!

Urg. Even this I can bear from Merlin.

Mer. You have injured me, and must bear more.
Urg. I'll repair that injury.

Mer. Then send back your favourite Cymon to his disconsolate friends.

Urg. How can you imagine that such a poor, ignorant object as Cymon is, can have any charms for me?

Mer. Ignorance, no more than profligacy, is ex cluded from female favour; of this the success o rakes and fools is proof sufficient.

Urg. You mistake me, Merlin; pity for Cymon's state of mind, and friendship for his father, have induced me to endeavour at his cure.

Mer. False, prevaricating Urganda! love was your inducement. Have you not stolen the prince from his royal father, and detained him here by your power, while a hundred knights are in search after him? Does not everything about you prove

Urg. But hear me, Merlin; I beseech you, hear the consequence of your want of honour and faith

pe.

to me? You were placed on this happy spot, to be

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the guardian of its peace and innocence; but now, at last, by your example, the once happy lives of the Arcadians are embittered with envy, passion, vanity, selfishness, and inconstancy: and whom are they to curse for this change? Urganda! the lost Urganda.

Trg. I beseech you, Merlin, spare me.

Mer. Yes; I'll converse with you ne more, because I will be no more deceived. I cannot hate you, though I shun you; yet, in my misery, I have this consolation, that the pangs of my jealousy are at least equalled by the torments of your fruitless passion.

Sull wish and sigh, and wish again;
Love is dethron'd; revenge shall reign!
Still shall my pow'r your vile arts confound,
And Cymon's cure shall be Urganda's wound.

[Erit. Urg. "And Cymon's cure shall be Urganda's wound!" What mystery is couched in these words? What can he mean?

Enter FATIMA, looking after MERLIN.

Fat. I'll tell you, madam, when he is out of hearing. He means mischief, and terrible mischief, too; no less, I believe, than ravishing you, and cutting my tongue out. I wish we were out of his -clutches.

Urg. Don't fear, Fatima.

Fat. I can't help it; he has great power, and is mischievously angry.

Urg. Here is your protection. [Sheus her wand.] My power is at least equal to his. [Muses.] “And Cymon's cure shall be Ürganda's wound!"

Fat. Don't trouble your head with these odd ends of verses, which were spoken in a passion; or, perhaps, for the rhyme's sake. Think a little to clear us from this old mischief-making conjurer. What will you do, madam?

Urg. What can I do, Fatima?

Fat. You might very easily settle matters with him, if you could as easily settle them with yourself. Urg. Tell me how?

Fat. Marry Merlin, and send away the young fellow. [URGANDA shakes her head.] I thought so: but before matters grow worse, give me leave to reason a little with you, madam.

[Sighs.

of beauty to make fools, and not cure them. I
I, poor I, could have made twenty fools of ve
in half the time that you have been endearring
make your fool sensible. Oh! 'tis a sal vay f
spending one's time.

Urg. Silence, Fatima! my passion is 150 g to be jested with.

Fat. Far gone, indeed, madam; and yonder re the precious object of it

Crg. He seems melancholy: what's the matt with him?

Fat. He's a fool, or he might make himself ver merry among us. I'll leave you to make the mon of him.

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Urg. Stay, Fatima, and help me to divert Fat. A sad time, when a lady must call in be divert her gallant! but I'm at your service. Enter CYMON, melancholy

Cymon. Heigho!

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Fat. What's the matter, young gentleman ?
Cymon. Heigho!

Urg. Are you not well, Cymon?
Cymon. Yes, I am very well.
Urg. Why do you sigh, then?
Cymon. Eh!

[Looks found

Fat. Do you see it in his eyes now, madam ?
Urg. Pr'ythee, be quiet. What is it you want!
tell me, Cymon, tell me your wishes, and you shall
have them.
Cymon, Shall I?

Urg. Yes, indeed, Cymon.
Fat. Now for it.
Cymon, I wish-heigho!

Urg. These sighs must mean something.

Aside to FATTMA
Fat. I wish you joy, then; find it out, madam.

Urg. What do you sigh for?
Cymon. I want-

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Urg. What, what, my sweet creature? [Eagerig.
Cymon. To go away.

Fat. Oh, la! the meaning's out.
Urg. Where would you go?
Cymon. Anywhere.

Urg. Had you rather go anywhere, than stay w

me?

Cymon. I had rather go anywhere than stay wai anybody.

Urg. Will you love me if I let you go? Cymon. Anything, if you'll let me go; pray, i me go.

Urg. I am in love, Fatima. Fat. And poor reason may stay at home: me exactly! Ay, ay, we are all alike; but with this difference, madam, your passion is surely a strange one; you have stolen away this young man, who, bating his youth and figure, has not one circumstance to Fat. I'm out of all patience! what the de...” create affection about him. He is half an idiot, would you have, young gentleman? Halyx = madam, which is no great compliment to your wis-grain of understanding, or a spark of sensity a dom, your beauty, or your power.

Urg. I despise them all; for they can neither relieve my passion, nor awaken his.

Fat. Cymon is incapable of being touched with anything; nothing gives him pleasure, but twirling cap, and hunting butterfles: he'll make a sad lover, indeed, madam.

his

Urg. I can wait with patience for the recovery of his understanding; it begins to dawn already. Fat. Where, pray?

Urg. In his eyes.

Fat. Eyes! Ha, ha, ha! Love has none, madam; the heart only sees, on these occasions. Cymon was born a fool, and his eyes will never look as you would have them, take my word for it.

Urg. Don't make me despair, Fatima.

Fat. Don't lose vour time, then; 'tis the business

you, you would know and feel yourself to be th happiest of mortals.

Cymon. I had rather go, for all that. Fat. The picture of the whole sex! Oh! ma'm fondness will never do a little coquetry s thing: I bait my hook with nothing else; india [Aride to UNBAN ways catch fish.

Urg. I will shew him my power, and captiva: & heart through his senses.

Fat. You'll throw away your powder and shot.
INCANTATION. URGANDA.
Hither, spirits, that aid me, hither!
Whither stays my love? ah! whiter!
Alas! this heart must faithful proce,
Though still he flies Urganda's love.

[URGANDA waves her wand, and the wom

changes to a magnificent garden. Cupid and
the Loves descend. Ballet by Loves and
Zephyrs. During the dance, CYMON stares
vacantly, grows inattentive, and at last, falls
asleep.

Urg. Look, Fatima, nothing can affect his insensibility; and yet, what a beautiful simplicity!

Fat. Turn him out among the sheep, madam, and think of him no more; 'tis all labour in vain, as the song says, I assure you.

Urg. Cymon, Cymon! what, are you dead to

these entertainments?

Cymon. Dead! I hope not.

[Starts.

Urg. How can you be so unmoved?
Cymon. They tired me so, that I wished them al
good night, and went to sleep. But where are they?
Urg. They are gone, Cymon.
Cymon. Then let me go too.
Fat. The old story!

[Gets up.

Urg. Whither would you go? Tell me, and I'll go with you, my sweet youth.

Cymon. No, I'll go by myself.

Urg. And so you shall; but where ?
Cymon. Into the fields.

Urg. But is not this garden pleasanter than the fields, my palace than cottages, and my company more agreeable to you than the shepherds?

Cymon. Why, how can I tell till I try? you won't

let me choose.

AIR.-CYMON.

You gave me, last week, a young linnet,
Shut up in a fine golden cage ;

Yet how sad the poor thing was within it,
Oh! how it did flutter and rage!
Then he mop'd, and he pin'd,
That his wings were confin'd,
Till I open'd the door of his den;
Then so merry was he,
And because he was free,
He came to his cage back again.
And so should I too, if you would let me go.
Urg. And would you return to me again?
Cymon. Yes, I would; I've no where else to go to.
Fat. Let him have his humour; when he is not
confined, and is seemingly disregarded, you may
have him, and mould him as you please. "Tis a
ceipt for the whole sex.

SCENE II-A rural prospect.

Enter PHOEBE and DAPHNE.

the false fellow make the same vows to another, almost before my face! I can't bear it, and I won't. Oh! that I had the power of our enchantress yonder. -I would play the devil with them all.

Phoebe. What, to be left and forsaken! and sce

all this disturbance among you, she does not in the Daph. And yet, to do justice to Sylvia, who makes least encourage the shepherds, and she can't help their falling in love with her.

Phabe. May be so; nor can I help hating and detesting her, because they do fall in love with her. Linco. [Singing without.] "Care flies from the lad that is merry.'

Daph. Here comes the merry Linco, who never knew care, or felt sorrow. If you can bear his laughing at your griefs, or singing away his own, vou may get some information from him.

Enter LINCO, singing.

Linco. What, my girls of ten thousand! I was this moment defying love and all his mischief, aud you are sent in the nick by him, to try my courage; but I'm above temptation, or below it; I duck down, and all his arrows fly over me.

AIR.-LINCO.

Care flies from the lad that is merry,
Whose heart is as sound,

And cheeks are as round,

As round and as red as a cherry.

Phoebe. What, are you always thus

Linco. Ay, or heaven help me! What, would you have me do as you do? walking with your arms across, thus-heighoing by the brook-side among the willows. Oh! fie for shame, lasses! young and handsome, and sighing after one fellow a-piece, when you should have a hundred in a drove, follow ing you like-like-you shall have the simile another time.

Daph. No; pr'ythee, Linco, give it us now.

Linco. You shall have it; or what's better, I'll tell you what you are not like-you are not like our re-shepherdess Sylvia; she's so cold, and so coy, that she flies from her lovers, but is never without a score of them; you are always running after the fellows, and yet are always alone; a very great difference, let me tell you: frost and fire, that's all.

Urg. I'll follow your advice. [Exit FATIMA. Well, Cymon, you shall go wherever you please, and for as long as you please.

Cymon. And shall I let my linuet out, too?

Urg. And take this, Cymon, wear it for my sake, and don't forget me. [Gives him a nosegay.] Go, Cymon, take your companion, and be happier than I can make you.

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condition my poor sister is. I am as happy as she
Daph. Don't imagine that I am in the pining
is miserable.

Linco. Good lack! I'm sorry for it.
Daph. What, sorry that I am happy
Linco. Oh! no, prodigious glad.
Phoebe. That I am miserable!

Linco. No, no; prodigious sorry for that, and prodigious glad of the other.

Phoebe. Pr'ythee, be serious a little.

Linco. No; heaven forbid! If I am serious, 'tis all over with me. I must laugh at something; shall I be merry with you?

Daph. The happy shepherdess can bear to be laughed at.

Linco. Then Sylvia might take your shepherd without a sigh.

Daph. My shepherd! what does the fool mean?
Phabe. Her shepherd! Pray, tell us, Linco.
[Eagerly.

Linco. "Tis no secret, I suppose. I only met her Damon and Sylvia together just now, walking to Daph. What, my Dainon ?

Linco. Your Damon that was, and that would be Sylvia's Damon, if she would put up with him. Daph. Her Damon! I'll make her to know-a wicked slut! a vile fellow! Come, sister, I'm ready to go with you-we'll be revenged. If our old governor continues to cast a sheep's eye at me, I'll have her turned out of Arcadia, I warrant you; a base, mischievous[Exit. Phabe. This is some comfort, however-ha, ha, ha! in seeing one's sister as miserable as one's self. [Exit. Linco. Ha, ha, ha! Oh! how the pretty, sweettempered creatures are ruffled.

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And make him warm, and sensible, and kind;
Her yet cold heart, with passion's sighs shall move,
Melt as he melts, and give him love for love.
This magic touch shall to these flowers impart

[Touches a nosegay in her hand. A power when beauty gains, to fix the heart. [Exit.

Enter CYMON, with his bird.

Cymon. Away, prisoner, and make yourself merry. [Bird flies.] Ay, ay, I knew how it would be with you; much good may it do you, Bob. What a sweet place this is! Hills and greens, and rocks, and trees, and water, and sun, and birds! Dear me! 'tis just as if I had never seen it before. [Whistles about till he sees SYLVIA, then stops and sinks his whistling by degrees, with a look and attitude of astonishment. Oh, la! what's here? "Tis something dropped from the heavens, sure; and yet, 'tis like a woman, too! Bless me is it alive? [Sighs.] It can't be dead, for its cheek is as red as a rose, and it moves about the heart of it. I don't know what's the matter with me. I wish it would wake, that I might see its eyes. If it should look gentle, and smile upon me, Í should be glad to play with it. Ay, ay, there's something now in my breast that they told me of. It feels oddly to me; and yet I don't dislike it.

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I am glad I came abroad! I have not been sa pleased ever since I can remember. But, p it may be angry with me. I can't help i, 201 I had rather see her angry with me than a sinile upon me. Stay, stay! [SYLVIA L what a pretty foot it has!

[Retires. SYLVIA raises herself from the bans.
AIR. SYLVIA.

Yet awhile, sweet sleep, deceive me,
Fold me in thy downy armi,
Let not care awake to grieve me,
Lull it with thy potent charmi
I, a turtle, doom'd to stray,

Quitting young the parent's nest,
Find each bird a bird of prey;

Sorrow knows not where to rest.

[SYLVIA sees CYMON with emotion, whất s gazes strongly on her, and retires, pulling: his cap.

Syl. Who's that? Cymon. 'Tis I.

[Speaks gently and confus [Bows and hea

Syl. What's your name?

Cymon. Cymon.

Syl. What do you want, young man?
Cymon. Nothing, young woman.

Syl. What are you doing there?

Cymon. Looking at you there. What eyes it has

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her.

Cymon. I had rather belong to you; I would not desire to go abroad, if I did.

Syl. Does Urganda love you?

Cymon. So she says. If I were to stay here always, I should not be called the simple Cymon. Syl. Nor I the hard-hearted Sylvia. Cymon. Sylvia, Sylvia! what a sweet name! [ could sound it for ever!

Syl. I shall never see you again. I wish I ha not seen you now.

Cymon. If you did but wish as I de, all the eschantresses in the world could not hinder us fr seeing one another. [Kneels and kisses her ta Syl. We shall be seen, and separated for ever. i must go.

Cymon. When shall I see you again? In half as hour?

Syl. Half an hour! that will be too soca. N no; it must be three quarters of an hour. Cymon. And where, my sweet Sylvia! Syl. Anywhere, my sweet Cymon! Cymon. In the grove, by the river there. Syl. And you shall take this to remember [Gives him the nosegay enchanted by MIN wish it were a kingdom, I would give it you, 12. 1 queen along with it.

Cymon. And here is one for you, too; wh of no value to me, unless you will receive it, it, my sweet Sylvia!

Syl. Cymon.

[Gives her URGANDA'i nawyo; DUET.-SYLVIA and CyMox. Take this nosegay, gentle youth! And you, sweet maid, take mine

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