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Has. Here, then, exchange we mutual forgiveSo may the guilt of all my broken vows, My perjuries to thee, be all forgotten, As here my soul acquits thee of my death, As here I part without one angry thought, As here I leave thee with the softest tenderness, Mourning the chance of our disastrous loves, And begging heav'n to bless and to support thee. Sir R. My lord, despatch; the duke has sent to For loitering in my duty[chide me,
Has. I obey.
Alic. Insatiate, savage monster! Is a moment So tedious to thy malice? Oh, repay him, Thou great Avenger! Give him blood for blood: Guilt haunt him! fiends pursue him! lightnings That he may know how terrible it is [blast him!! To want that moment he denies thee now.
Has. This rage is all in vain, that tears thy bosom: Retire, I beg thee;
To see thee thus, thou know'st not how it wounds
Alic. Oh! stab me to the heart, some pitying Now strike me dead.
Re-enter LORD HASTINGS.
I charge thee, by our present common miseries;
Oh, who can bear to be a wretch for ever?
SCENE I-A Street.
Enter BELMOUR and DUMONT.
Dum. You saw her, then?
Bel. I met her, as returning,
In solemn penance from the public cross.
Dum. Inhuman dogs! How did she bear it ?.
Bel. With the gentlest patience; Submissive, sad, and lowly was her look; A burning taper in her hand she bore, And on her shoulders, carelessly confus'd, With loose neglect, her lovely tresses hung; Upon her cheek a faintish blush was spread; Feeble she seem'd, and sorely smit with pain; While barefoot as she trod the flinty pavement, Her footsteps all along were mark'd with blood. Yet, silent still she pass'd, and unrepining; Her streaming eyes bent ever on the earth, Except when in some bitter pang of sorrow, To heav'n she seem'd in fervent zeal to raise, And beg that mercy man deny'd her here. Dum. When was this piteous sight? Bel. These last two days,
You know my care was wholly bent on you,
Let proud oppression prove its fiercest malice
Bel. And have you thought upon the consequence? Dum. What is there I should fear?
Bel. Have you examin'd
Into your inmost heart, and try'd at leisure
Dum. O thou hast set my busy brain at work,
Dum. Oh, that day!
The thought of it must live for ever with me.
With courteous action woo'd her oft to turn;
Bel. Alas, for pity! Oh, those speaking tears!
Dum. And can she bear it? Can that delicate
Entreat for bread, and want the needful raiment
Bel. Somewhere about this quarter of the town,
SCENE II-A Street. Enter JANE SHORE, her hair hanging loose on her shoulders, and bare-footed.
'Tis I, her friend, the partner of her heart,
Go hence, and howl to those that will regard you.
(She sits down.)
Hangs on my door: whose hateful whine of woe
Jane S. A very beggar, and a wretch, indeed;
Alic. And dost thou come to me, to me for bread?
Jane S. Yet, yet endure, nor murmur, O my soul!
Jane S. To thy hand
And hark! methinks the roar that late pursu'd me, I trusted all; gave my whole store to thee:
Jane S. Tell my Alicia, 'tis I would see her.
Has thought unhappy Shore her dearest blessing,
'Tis true;-I know thee now;-a mischief on thee!
The smallest pittance, give me but to eat,
And now 'tis out, and I am drown'd in blood.
Cast thy black veil upon my shame, O night!
Jane S. Oh! thou most injur'd-dost thou live, inFall then, ye mountains, on my guilty head: [deed? Hide me, ye rocks, within your secret caverns;
(Breaks from the Guards.) Stand off the agonies of death are on her! She pulls, she gripes me hard with her cold hand. [prise. Jane S. Was this blow wanting to complete my sur-Oh! let me go, ye ministers of terror, He shall offend no more, for I will die, And yield obedience to your cruel master Tarry a little, but a little longer, And take my last breath with you.
Shore. Oh, my love!
(Following him as he is carried off-she falls.) Shore. Inhuman villains!
Why dost thou fix thy dying eyes upon me,
Jane S. Forgive me!-but forgive me!
Jane S. Then all is well, and I shall sleep in
'Tis very dark, and I have lost you now :-
A COMEDY, IN FIVE ACTS.-BY CHARLES MACKLIN.
LADÝ RODOLPHA LUMBERCOURT. Sir PERTINAX MACSYCOPHANT. COUNSELLOR PLAUSIBLE.
BETTY HINT. SIDNEY
Nanny. Why, so the housekeeper thinks, too.
Betty. Nay, I know the father, the man that Betty. The postman is at the gate, Sam ; pray step ruined her. and take in the letters.
(Betty. Nanny. The deuse you do! Sam. John the gardener is gone for them, Mrs. Betty. As sure as you are alive, Nanny; or I
Betty. Bid John bring them to me, Sam: tell him am greatly deceived; and yet, I can't be deceived I am here in the library.
neither. Was not that the cook that came gallopSam. I'll send him to your ladyship in a crack. ing so hard over the common just now?
[Exit. Nanny. The same: how very hard he galloped! Enter NANNY.
he has been but three quarters of an hour, he says, Nanny. Miss Constantia desires to speak to you, coming from Hyde-park Corner. Mrs. Betty.
Betty. And what time will the family be down? Betty. How is she now?-any better, Nanny? Nanny. He has orders to have dinner ready by
Nanny. Something; but very low-spirited still. five; there are to be lawyers, and a great deal of I verily believe it is as you say.
company here: he fancies there is to be a private Betty. O! I would take my book oath of it. I wedding to-night, between our young, Master cannot be deceived in that point, Nanny.--Ay, ay, Charles, and Lord Lumbercourt's daughter, the her business is done: she is certainly breeding, Scotch lady; who, he says, is just come post from depend upon it.
Bath, in order to be married to him.
Betty. Ay, Ay, Lady Rodolpha. Nay, like enough, for I know it has been talked of a good while: well, go tell Miss Constantia that I will be with her immediately.
Nanny. I shall, Mrs. Betty. [Exit. Betty. So!-I find they all believe the impertinent creature is breeding-that's pure! it will soon reach my lady's ears, I warrant. Enter JOHN. Well, John, ever a letter for me? John. No, Mrs. Betty; but here is one for Miss Constantia.
Betty. Give it me.-Hum! my lady's hand. John. And here is one, which the postman says is for my young master; but it's a strange direction. (Reads) To Charles Egerton, Esq.
me-loves to hear me talk, too; and I verily be-
Betty. O! yes, yes; this is for Master Charles,
John. The parliament!-pr'ythee, why so, Mrs.
Betly. Why, you must know, John, that my lady, his mother, was an Egerton, by her father; she stole a match with our old master, for which all her family, on both sides, have hated Sir Pertinax, and the whole crew of the Macsycophants, ever since; and so, John, my lady's uncle, Sir Stanley Egerton, dying an old bachelor, and, as I said before, mortally hating our old master, and all the crew of the Mascycophants, left his whole estate to Master Charles, who was his god-son; but on condition that he should drop his father's name of Mascycophant, and take up that of Egerton; and that is the reason, John, why the parliament has made him change his name.
Sid. (With a glow of tender friendship.) Come, come, correct this warmth; it is the only weak ingredient in your nature, and you ought to watch it carefully. Because I will not abet an unwarrantable passion by an abuse of my sacred character, in marrying you beneath your rank, and in direct opposition to your father's hopes and happiness, you blame me, you angrily break from me, and call me unkind.
John. I am glad that Master Charles has got the estate, however; for he is a sweet-tempered gentle
Eger. (With tenderness and conviction.) Sidney, for my warmth I stand condemned; but, for my marriage with Constantia, I think I can justify it upon every principle of filial duty, honour, and worldly prudence.
Sid. Only make that appear, Charles, and you know you may command me.
Eger. (With great filial regret I am sensible how unseemly it appears in a son to descant on the unamiable passions of a parent; but, as we are alone, and friends, I cannot help observing in my own defence, that when a father will not allow the use of reason to any of his family; when his pursuit of greatness makes him a slave abroad, only to be a tyrant at home; when a narrow partiality to Scotland, on every trivial occasion, provokes him to enmity even with his wife and children, only because they give a national preference where they think it most justly due; and when, merely to gratify his own ambition, he' would marry his son into a family he detests; (great warmth) sure, Betty. In the housekeeper's-noom, settling the Sidney, a son thus circumstanced, (from the dignity dessert. Give me Mr. Egerton's letter, and I'll of human reason, and the feelings of a loving heart) leave it on the table in his dressing-room: I see it has a right, not only to protest against the blindis from his brother Sandy-So; now go and de-ness of a parent, but to pursue those measures that liver your letter to your sweetheart, John. virtue and happiness point out.
Betty. As ever lived. But come, John; as I know you love Miss Constantia, and are fond of being where she is, I will make you happy; you shall carry this letter to her.
John. Shall I, Mrs. Betty? I am very much obliged to you. Where is she?
Sid. The violent temper of Sir Pertinax, I own, cannot be defended on many occasions; but stillyour intended alliance with Lord Lumbercourt
John. That I will; and I am much beholden to you for the favour of letting me carry it to her; for though she should never have me, yet I shall always love her, and wish to be near her, she is so sweet a creature. Your servant, Mrs, Betty. [Erit. Betty. Your servant, John. Ha, ha, ha! poor fellow, he perfectly doats on her; and daily follows her about with nosegays and fruit, and the first of every thing in the season.-Ay, and my young master, Charles, too, is in as bad a way as the gardener:-in short, everybody loves her, and that's one reason why I hate her. For my part, I wonder what the deuse the meu see in her-a creature that was taken in for charity; I'm sure she's not so handsome. I wish she was out of the family once; if she was, I might then stand a chance of being my lady's favourite myself; ay, and perhaps of getting one of my young masters for a sweetheart, or at least the chaplain; but as to him there would be no such great catch if I should get him. I will try for him, however; and my first step shall be to tell the doctor all I have discovered about Constantia's intrigues with her spark at Hadley.Yes, that will do; for the doctor loves to talk with
Eger. (With great impatience.) O contemp tible!-a trifling, quaint, haughty, voluptuous, ser vile tool! the mere lacquey of party and corruption; who, for the prostitution of nearly thirty years, and the ruin of a noble fortune, has had the despicable satisfaction, and the infamous honour, of being kicked up and kicked down, kicked in and kicked out, just as the insolence, compassion, or convenience of leaders predominated: and now, being forsaken by all parties, his whole political consequence amounts to the power of franking a letter, and the right honourable privilege of not paying a tradesman's bill.
Sid. Well, but dear Charles, you are not to wed my lord, but his daughter.
Eger. Who is as disagreeable to me for a companion, as her father for a friend or an ally.
Sid. What, her Scotch accent, I suppose, offends you.
Eger. No, upon my honour, not in the least; I think it entertaining in her: but, were it other