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Barn. I know it is dreadful! I feel the anguish | her down. Disconsolate she seemed, and pined of thy generous soul; but I was born to murder all and languished from a cause unknown; till hearing who love me. (Both weep.)

of your dreadful fate, the long stifled flame blazed True. I came not to reproach you; I thought to out, and in the transport of her grief, discovered bring you comfort. O had you trusted me when her own lost state, while she lamented yours. first the fair seducer tempted you, all might have Barn. (Weeping.) Why didn't you let me die and been prevented.

never know it? Barn. Alas! thou knowest not what a wretch I True. It was impossible; she makes no secret have been! breach of friendship was my first and of her passion for you, and is determined to see least offence, So far was I lost to goodness; so you ere you die; she waits for me to introduce devoted to the author of my ruin; that hail she in- her. Isted on my murdering thee, I think I should have

[Erit. done it.

True. Pr'ythee aggravate thy faults no more. Barn Vain busy thoughts be still! What avails

Barn. I think I should! thu: good and generous it to think on what I might have been? I now am, as you are, I should have murdered yon!

- what I have made myself. True. We have not yet embraced, and may be interrupted. Come to my arms.

Enter TRUEMAN and MARIA. Barn. Never, never will I taste such joys on earth; never will ( 80 smooth my just remorse. True. Madam, reluctant I lead you to this disAre those honest arms, and faithful bosom, tit to mal scene: this is the seat of misery and guilt. embrace and to support a murderer? These iron Here awful justice reserves her public vicfetters only shall clasp, and flinty pavement hear tims. This is the entrance to shameful death. me; even these are too good for such a bloody

Maria. To this sad place then no improper guest, monster.

the abandond, lost Maria brings despair; and see True. Shall fortune sever those whom friendship the subject and the cause of all this world of woe. joined? Thy miseries cannot lay thee so low, but Silent and motionless he stands, as if his soul had love will find thee. Upon this rugged couch then quitted her abode, and the lifeless form alone was let us lie, for well it suits our most deplorable left behind. condition. Here will we offer to stern calamity, Barn. Just heaven, I am your own; do with me inis earth the altar and ourselves the sacrifice. what you please. Our mutual groans shall echo to each other through Maria. Why are your streaming eyes still fixed the dreary vault. Our sighs shall number the below ? as though thou wouldst give the greedy moments as they pass, and mingling tears com earth thy sorrows, and rob me of my due ? Were municate such anguish, as words were never made happiness within your power, you should bestow it to express.

where you please; but in your misery, I must and Barn. Since you propose an intercourse of woe, will partake. pour all your griefs into my breast, and in exchange Barn. Oh! say not so, but fly, abhor, and leave tabe mine. (Embracing.) Where's now the anguish me to my fate. Consider what you are: so shall I that you promised? You have taken mine, and quickly be to you as though I had never been. made mo po return. Sure peace and comfort dwell Maria. When I forget you, I must be so indeed. within these arms, and sorrow cannot reproach me Reason, choice, virtue, all forbid it. Let woman, while I am here! This, too, is the work of heaven; like Millwood, if there be more such women, smile who, havivg before spoke peace and pardon to me, in prosperity, and in adversity forsake. Be it the now sends thee to confirm it. O take, take some pride of virtue to repair, or to partake, the ruin of the joy that overflows my breast.

such have made.

True. Lovely, ill-fated maid !
Enter Keeper.

Maria. Yes, fruitless is my love, and unavailing

all my sighs and tears. Can they save thee from Keeper. Sir.

approaching death? From such a death? O, sorTrue. I come.

row insupportable.

Barn. Preserve her, heaven, and restore her (Exit Keeper.

peace, nor let her death be added to my crimes. Barn. Most you leave me! Death would soon (Bell tolls ) I am summoned to my fate. have parted us for ever. True. O my Barnwell, there is yet another task

Enter Keeper. behind : again your heart must bleed for others' woes.

Keep. The officers attend you, sir. Millwood is Barn. To meet and part with you, I thought was already summoned. all I had to do on earth! What is there more for me to do or suffer?

[Exit. True. I dread to tell thee, yet it must be known! Barn. Tell them I am ready. And now, my Maria

friend, farewell. (Embracing.) Support and comBarn. O master's fair and virtuous daughter! fort the best you can this mourning fair. No more. True. The same.

Forget not to pray for me; would you, bright exBarn. No misfortune, I hope, has reached that cellence, permit me the honour of a chaste embrace, lovely maid !, Preserve her, heaven, from every ill, the last happiness this world could give were mine. to shew mankind that goodness is your care. (They embrace.) Exalted goodness! O turn your

True. Whatever you and I have felt, and more, if eyes from earth and me, to heaven, where virtue, more be possible, she feels for you.

like yours, is ever heard. Pray for the peace of Barn. This is, indeed, the bitterness of death! my departing soul. Early my race of wickedness (Aside.)

began, and soon has reached the summit. Ere naTrue. You must remember, for we all observed ture has finished her work, and stamped me man, it, for some time past, a heavy melancholy weighed just at the time that others begin to stray, my course

is finished; though short my span of life, and few : If any youth, like you, in future limes, my days, yet count my crimes for years, and I Shall mourn my fate, though he abhor my crimes; have lived whole ages. Justice and mercy are in Or tender maid, like you, my tale shall hear, heaven the same; its utmost severity is mercy to And to my sorrows give a pitying tear : the whole, thereby to cure, man's folly and pre- To each such melting eye, and throbbing heart, sumption, which else would render even infinite Wouid gracious heapen this benefit impart, inercy vain and ineffectual. Thus justice, in com- Never to know my guilt, nor feel my pain, passion to mavkind, cuts off a wretch like me, by Then must you own you ought not to complain; one such example to secure thousands from future Since you nor weep, nor shall I die in vain. ruin,


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Persons Licpresented

















Solo. Bold Rob Roy, the Southrons say,

Is now upon the border; SCENE I. The interior of a Village Inn.--TRAVEL

Should he meet wi' us the day, LERS preparing to set forward on their journey

'Tuad breed a sad disorder. HOSTESS attending them.

Chorus. Soon the sun, &c.
Soon the sun will gae to rest,

Hostess. Brawly sung, my maisters, brawly sung!
Let's awa' thegither;

I wish ye a' safe hame, for ye're ain sakes, an'a Company is aye the best.

quick return for inine. Here Tam, gi'e our frien's Crossing o'er the heather.

their stirrup-cup, while I rub down the table. Tak' each lad his stirrup cup,

wish you a' gude e'en, frien's. His heart will feel the lighter ;

[Ereunt Travellers. Tak' each lass a wee bit sup,

Odd! there are twa mair travellers just alighting. Her e'e will sparkle brighter.

Wha'd hae thought o'mair company at the “Thistle No. $. -THE BRITISH DRAMA.

an' Bagpipes" sae late i' the day. But what wi' | Francis loathed the counting-house, worse than 1 Whigs and Tories, Jacobites an Rob Roy, we in loathe a bankruptcy. While his father was making the North here drive a bonny trade o't.

money, he was making poetry; and so his father, Enter ROB ROY, dressed like a north-country grazier sir, being a stern man, said that his nephew Rash-and OWEN, in a plain brown suit, boots, a whip, leigh should take Mr. Frank’s

place; for he would &c., shown in by WILLIE.

never ask his only child, a second time, to be the

partner of his fortunes and affections. Oh dear! Willie. Traveller to Glasco', maister.

Rob. Well, sir; but what motive could induce this Rob. Landleddy, let us have your best, and Rashleigh to betray a trust which, for his own quickly too.

interest, one would naturally suppose he would be Host. Troth will I, sir; ye'll be for a dram, nae most faithful to? doubt, till we can toss up something het for yer Owen I suspect, to aid some political purpose, late dinner,

whereby, at the expense of honour and conscience,

[Exit Hostess. he expects to make a larger per centage of worldly Owen places a small saddle-bag on the table, and sinks profit. He knew that to shake the house of Os

baldistone and Co., Crane Alley, London, was to into a chair, evidently greatly fatigued.

alarm the government. The cash he took was po Owen. Ch, my poor bones! the firm of my con- hurt; but the assets--the assets, sir; however, I'll stitution has been worse shaken than the great not give them up, for I know Rashleigh has como bouse of Osbaldistone and Co., Crane Alley, north. London.

Rob. (aside.) North, indeed! Umph! he's a Hostess re-enters, and places liquor and glasses on the cunning chield that--he'll

be too cunning for him

self at last, I fear. A false friend, Mr. Owen, never table.

yet served a good cause. Young man, have you sent my message to the hall, Owen. You say true, sir, such people are as varibard by.

able as the course of exchange.

But when we (Rob Roy pours out, and Owen drinks.) reach Glasgow, sir, perhaps you can assist my inWillie. Ay, sir, and the lassie will sune be back quiries. wi' the answer,

Rob. I—I'll meet you there, Mr. Owen. I just re

[Exit. collect a small matter of business that I have to Rob. Well, fellow-traveller, how does our Scotch do in this neighbourhood. (Aside.) I must go to whisky agree with your English Stomach ?

the Hall: Rashleigh has been there, no doubt; and Owen. Thank you, sir, thank you—it cheers the Sir Frederick Vernon may wish to speak with me. body, but it cannot raise the spiri: I'm quite below I'll meet you at Glasgow, Mr. Owen. par, as we say in the city.

Owen. Heaven help me! I sball never live to baRob. Try it again, man.

lance an account there, without a companion or Owen. I hope Mr. Francis Osbaldistone will make guide. I was never ten miles from Crane Alley haste- yet I have a sad tale to tell him.

before in all my days. Rob. Osbaldistone! I know something of that Rob. Pho, man! there is nothing to fear. Where family, sir, and if there's anything I can serve you shall I hear of you ? in, you may command me.

Oven. At Messrs. Macvittie and MacFin's, in tho Orcen. You are very kind, sir, but is is far beyond Gallowgate, sir. We have another agent, one Mr. your help.

Nicol Jarvie, in the Saltmarket, but I can't depend Rob. Perhaps not. Will you trust me with the upon him. matter?

Rob. Fare ye well, Mr. Owen-Rashleigh in the Owen. Surely I will, sir. The affairs of tho great north! then the heather will soon be on firə commercial and banking house of Osbaldistone (Aside, and going up.) and Co., Crane Alley, London, are no secret by this

Enter WILLIE. time. All public as the Gazette. That I should live to see it and to say it! Oh dear!

Willie. Here's the squire to speak wi' ane Mr. Rob. Come, come, there's nought so bad but what Owen. it may be mended. Let's hear the business that

Enter FRANCIS OSBALDISTONE-after he enters brings you to the Hall. Oven. It's a long account, sir; but I'll sum it up

ROB ROY exits hastily, unperceived by him. by the shortest rules. You must know, sir, my Francis. Owen, my excellent, kind friend! name is Owen. I am head clerk and junior partner Ouen. O, Mr. Frank ! O, Mr. Osbaldistone! such of the house of Osbaldistope and Co., Crano Alley, news! (wiping his eyes.) But why did you never London; and I am now on my way to Glasgow, to answer our letters-mine and your good father's ? recover certain papers which have been taken Francis Letters! I have never yet received one. stolen, I'm afraid, in the absence of the head of the I have written repeatedly, and have been astorm.

nished at receiving no reply. Rob. Stolen ! by whom!

Owen. 0, Lord ! no letters! O, my stars! no Owen. By his nephew, Mr. Rashleigh.

letters! then they have been intercepted. How Rob. Rashleigh! I know-I remember, the son has your poor father heen deceived ! O, Mr. of Sir Hildebrand, late of the Hall here.

Francis, what have you not to answer for? But Owen. The same, sir. Sir Hildebrand and the that's past now-it's all over! rest of his sons are taken up on suspicion of trea- Francis. Good Heaven! my father, he is illsonable practices. It's an awful balance they have dead? to strike.

Owen. No, no, not so bad as that! thank Heaven, Rob. But how happened it that this son, this Mr. his day book is still open, but bis affairs are in Francis you talk of, was not left in charge of his worse confusion than my poor brain--oh, dear! father's affairs, rather than the nephew, Rash- Francis. Explain yourself, I beseech you, and in leigh?

terms less technical. Owen. Ah, sir, there lies all the mischief! Mr. Owen. Well, well, the sum total is, that your you, sir.

cousin Rashleigh, taking advantage of my good | pose on the weak minds of the domestics, bis master's absence in Holland, bas absconded with penetration may discover who and what I am bepapers of such consequence to ourselves and the fore the plans are matured on which my future government, that unless we can recover them, or happiness now entirely rest. get help from our agents by a certain day, the house Diana. Rely on my discretion, sir! you may with of Osbaldistone and Co., Crane-alley, London, is ir safety. tho bankrupt list as sure as the Gazette! Francis. Gracious Heaven! my folly and dis

Martha. (Advancing with a cloak, resembling that piedience the hare ruined my father? Tell me, of a Catholic priest, and giving it lo Sir Frederick.) bow sball I redeem the consequence of my Indeed, Sir Frederick - I beg pardon, father @ror?

Vaughan, I mean your reverence has nothing to Oren. Oh, Mr. Frank, you raise my heart ten po fear, though you are a (atholic and Jacobite. cuit, to hear you talk in that way. Repair to Glas- There is not a soul in the place, myselt exceptec, gow, and assist my poor endeavours. Though you that dare stir a foot towards this part of the liouse understand little, I grieve to say, of debtor and after nightfall. cre litor, you thorou,

hly understand, I rejoice to Sir F. I repeat, it is not from them I fear detectell it, the great fundamental principle of all moral tion; the chiaracter I openly bear, of consessor to accounting-the great ethic rule of three-let A do Miss Vernon, is a sufficient security; but remember, to B as he would have B do to him, and the product Diana, Francis Osbaldistone and his father are will give the rule of conduct required.

firm adherents of the present government; and Francis. It shall, it must be so - this very hour I'll should be discover me, or the purpose which bid adieu to the enchantress, who still must rule my renders my concealment in this part of the country destiny, and seek this destroyer, this traitor, Rash- necessary, it might be fatal to the cause of Scotland leigh! Set forvard, Owen, instantly- by the time and ourselves. you have made the necessary inquiries at Glas- Diana. But my cousin is a man of honourable Fow, I shall be with you. Oh, Diana! must we and affectionato feelings; he would never betray then part?

Owen. Diana! Ah, love, lovo! I thought so- Sir F. You mean he would never sacrifice his never knew a man open an account with him, but love in the person of Diana Vernon. Subdue his affairs got into coufusion. I never had any those reflections, my child, for the sake of your fudealings with him in all my life. It's more danger- ture peace of mind-annihilato them, while it is cus, Mr. Francis, than mpeddling with contraband yet in your power-thing that you are devoted to vols:. But I've heard of the consignment - to a cloister, or the betrothed bride of Rashleigh OsLiisa Diana Vernon, best affections! Itemn, heart! | baldistone. Item, honour! Itein-Oh, Mr. Francis, look at tho

( at a tapestry panel. per contrå-blank! ruin! Oh, dear!

Dina. You may leave now, Martha.

When my (Exit. cousin Francis arrives, say I wish to speak with Prancis. Yes, for a while we must scparate; him here, vit I cannot cease to loro cannot live without

[Erit. ber.

The bride of Rashleigh! never, never! any lot

rather than that, the content, the jail, the grave! SONG.-BY BURNS.

I must act as becomes the descendant of a noble Air." Low Down in the Droom."

ancestry. Yet how preferable is the lot of those

whose birth and situation neither renders them O my love's like the red, red rose,

meanly dependent, nor raises then to the dimThu's newly sprung in June.

cuities and dangers which too often accompany O my lore's like the inclody,

wealth and grandeur. Thelt's sweetly played in tune.

(Sing introduced.) As fair art thou, my bonny luss, Soder in lore am I;

Enter MARTHA, introducing FRANCIS OSBAL-
Anil will love 'hez still, my dear,

DISTONE, and exit.
Tho' a the seas gang dry.

Francis. Diana, you sent for me.
Tilai the seas gang er?, my dear,

liuna. Yes, Frank, it was to bid you farewell. and rocks melt ri' the sun;

Suppress your amazement while I tell you that I And I will love thee stil, my dear,

an acquainted with the distresses which the Binile the sands of life shull run.

trachery of Rashleigh has brought upon your

Dut fare ihee weel, my only lore,
Lind furu thee uu el awhilc!

Francis. IIow, in the name of Heaven ! since dne! I icili come again, my love,

but within these few minutes I myself was in. Tio' 'iuere ten thousand mile.

forid ?

Liina. Ask me no questions. I have it not in [Erit my power to reply to them. Fate has involved me

in such a series of nets and entanglements, that I SCENE II.-The Library of Osbaldistone IIall. dare hardly speak a word, for fear of consequences. Enter SIR FREDERICK and DIANA VERNON, You must meet, and obriate the difficulties this MARTHA attending.

blow has occasioned.

Francis. And how is that possible ? Eir f. It is now time we separate Remember, Diana. Everything is possible to him that posDiana, my instructions. Wo are surrounded by sesses courage and activity. dangers, which will require all your prudence Francis. What do yon advise? to avert, 'Tis evident, your cousin Francis sus- Diana. Quit this place instantly, and for ever! pects the visits of a stranger to those apartments; Francis. Diana! and though this dress, resembling that of your Diana. You have only one friend to regret, and Ancestor's portrait, has hitherto enabled me to im- she has long heen accustomed to sacrifice her

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