Wil. (c.) I'll support him. Read! read! read!

Fitz. What is this?

My mind misgives me :
It is my brother's hand. [Reading.] "To be destroyed
before my death.

Narrative of my murder of " Oh, great Heaven!
[Reading.] "If, ere I die, my guilt should be disclosed,
May this contribute to redeem the wreck
Of my lost honour!" I am horror-struck!
Wil. Plain-plain! Stay! he revives.
Sir E. What has been-Soft!

I have been wandering with the damned, sure! Brother! And-ay, 'tis Wilford! Oh! thought flashes on me Like lightning!-I am brain-scorched!-Give me leave; I will speak-soon I will-a little yet!

Come hither, boy-wronged boy! Oh, Wilford! Wilford!

[Bursts into tears, and falls on Wilford's neck.

Wil. Be firm, sir-pray, be firm!

for you

My heart bleeds

Warms for you! Oh! all your former charity
To your poor boy is in my mind ;—still, still
I see my benefactor.

Sir E. Well, I will

I will be firm: one struggle, and 'tis over.
I have most foully wronged you. Ere I die,
And I feel death-struck, let me haste to make
Atonement. Brother, note. The jewels-
Yes, and that paper-Heaven and accident
Ordained it so were placed-curse on my flesh,
To tremble thus !- -were placed there by my hand.
Fitz. Oh, mercy on me!

Sir E. More. I feared this boy;

He knew my secret, and I blackened him,
That, should he e'er divulge the fatal story,
His word might meet no credit. Infamy
Will brand my memory for't; Posterity,

Whose breath I made my god, will keep my shame
Green in her damning record. Oh! I had-
I had a heart o'erflowing with good thoughts
For all mankind: one fatal-fatal turn

Has poisoned all! Where is my honour now?

To die-to have my ashes trampled on

By the proud foot of scorn!-Polluted!-Hell!
Who dares to mock my guilt?-Is't you? or you
Wrack me that grinning fiend!-Damnation !
Who spits upon my grave ?—I'll stab again !
I'll-Oh!

?

[Falls. Fitz. This rives my heart in twain !-Why, brother!

brother!

His looks are ghastly.

Enter GREGORY, R.

Gre. Sir, the officers

Fitz. Away, knave !-Send them hence-the boy is in

Hel. Where is he?-Ill, and on the ground!-Oh! Mortimer!

Oh, Heaven!-My Mortimer!-Oh, raise him-gently! Speak to me, love. He cannot !

Sir E. Helen-'twas I-that-killed

[He struggles to speak, but, unable to utter, he falls and dies-Helen kneels over him as the curtain slowly descends.

DISPOSITION OF THE CHARACTERS AT THE FALL OF

No. LI.

EDITED BY F. C. WEMYSS

0

GOTOBED TOM.

A Farce,

IN ONE ACT.

BY

THOMAS MORTON,

AUTHOR OF

"All that Glitters is not Gold," "The Writing on the Wall," "Sink or Swim," &c. &c. &c.

NEW-YORK:

WM. TAYLOR & CO., 16 Park-Place.

BALTIMORE, MD.:

WM. & HENRY TAYLOR, Sun Iron Buildings.

PRICE 12 1-2 CENTS.

REMARKS.

This is truly what it professes to be---a farce, a delightful, merry farce, full of droll situations, admirably wrought up, which must be seen to be fully appreciated. Well as it reads in the closet, it is upon the stage improved a hundred per cent. It will hold a prominent place in the list of acting pieces, as long as true wit and humor are appreciated within the walls of a theatre. Morton seems to acquire fresh vigor in every effort, the last effusion of his prolific brain always surpassing any previous attempt. Gotobed Tom may be assured the smiles of his audience will always be on hand to give him new life, long life, for his death would be an irreparable loss to the illustrious family of "the Smiths," and be regretted by all who ever knew him.

F. C. W.