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This you must answer one day.

Open that door. (Nurse follows her.)

(Door opens, and PEDRO is brought forVil. Send for all helps: all, all that I am worth,

ward by Vi leroy's Servants.)

Here's one can tell you all. Shall cheaply buy her peace of mind again.

(To a Servant.)

Ped. All, all: save me but from the rack, I'll con

fess all. Enter COUNT BALDWIN, CARLOS, BELFORD, Vil. You and your accomplices design'd MAURICE, EGMONT, with Servants. To murder Biron? Speak.

Ped. We did. C. Bald. O! do I live to this unhappy day?

Vil. Did you engage upon your private wrongs, Where is my wretched son ?

Or were employ'a ? Car. Where is my brother ?

Ped. Herover did us wrong. (They see him, and gather about the body.)

Vil. You were set on, then? Vil. I hope, in heav'n,

Ped. We were set on.
Car. Can'st thou pity him ?

Vil. What do you know of me?
Wish him in heav'n, when thou hast done a deed, Ped. Nothing, nothing:
That must for ever cut thee from the hopes

You saved his life, and have discover'd me.
Of ever coming there?

Vil. He has acquitted me, Vil. I do not blame you;

If you would be resolved of any thing, You have a brother's right to be concern'd

He stands upon his answer. For his untimely death.

Bel. Who set you on to act this horrid deed ? Car. Untimely death, indeed !

C. Bald. I'll know the villain; give me quick his Vil. But you must not say I was the cause.

name, Car. Not you the cause! Why, who should | Or I will tear it from thy bleeding heart. murder him?

Ped. I will confess. We do not ask you to accuse yourself;

C. Bald. Do, then. But I must say, that you have murder'd him;

Ped. It was my master; Carlos, your own son. And will say nothing else, till justice draws

C. Bald. Oh, monstrous! monstrous! most unUpon our side, at the loud call of blood,

natural! To execute so foul a murderer.

Bel. Did he employ you to murder his own broBel. Poor Biron! is this thy welcome home?

ther? Maur. Rise, sir; there is a comfort in revenge, Ped. He did; and he was with us when 'twas Which is left you.

(To C. Baldwin.)

done. Car. Take the body hence.

C. Bald. If this be true, this horrid, horrid tale,

(Biron carried off.) It is but just upon me; Biron's wrongs C. Bald. What could provoke you?

Must be revenged; and I the cause of all! Vil. Nothing could provoke me

Maur. What will you do with him ? To a base murder, which, 1 find, you think

C. Bald Take him apart; Me guilty off. I know my innocence ;

I know too much.

[Exit Pedro, guarded. My servants, too, can witness, that I drew

Vil. I had forgot. Your wretched, dying son, My sword in his defence, to rescue him.

Gave me this letter for you. Bel. Let the servants be called,

(Gives it to C. Baldwin.) Egm. Let's hear what they can say.

I dare deliver it. It speaks of me, Cur. What they can say! Why, what should I pray to have it read. servants say?

C. Bald. You know the hand? They are his accomplices, his instruments,

Bel. I know 'tis Biron's hand. And will not charge themselves. If they could C. Bald. Pray read it. (Bedford reads the letter.) do

Sir,-1 find I am come only to lay my death at your A murder for his service, they can lie,

door. I am now going out of the world, but cannot Lie nimbly, and swear hard to bring him off. forgive you, nor my brother Carlos, for not hindering You say you drew your sword in his defence; my poor wife, Isabella, from marrying with Villeroy; Who were his enemies? Did he need defence ? when you both knew, from so many letters, that I was Hath he wrong'd any one ? Could he have alive.

BIRON. cause

Vil. How ! did you know it, then? To apprehend a danger, but from you?

C. Bald. Amazement all!
And yet you rescued him!

Enter CARLOS, with Officers.
No, no! he came
Unseasonably, (that was all his crime)

Oh, Carlos! are you come. Your brother here, Unluckily, to interrupt your sport:

Here, in a wretched letter, lays his death You were new married, married to his wife; To you and me Have you done anything And therefore you, and she, and all of you,

To hasten his sad end ? (For all of you I must believe concerned)

Car. Bless me, sir! I do anything? who, I? Combined to murder him out of the way.

C. Bald. He talks of letters that were sent to us. Bel. If it be so

I never heard of any. Did you know Car. It can be only so.

He was alive? C. Bald. The law will do me justice; send for the Car. Alive! Heaven knows, not I. magistrate.

C. Bald. Had you no news of him, from a report, Car. I'll go myself for him.

[Exit. Or letter, never ? Vil. These strong presumptions, I must own, in

Car. Never, never, I. deed,

Bel. That's strange, indeed: I know he often Are violent against me; but I have

writ A witness, and on this side heay'n, too.

To lay before you the condition (TO C. Baldwin.) art;

Or this hard slavery: and more I know,

That, if he ever should come home again, That he had several answers to his letters.

He could not long outlive the loss of her. lle said they came from you: you are his brother? Bel. If you rely'd on that, why did you kill him? Car. Never from me.

Car. To make all sure. Now you are answer'd Bel. That will appear.

all. The letters, I believe, are still about him:

Where must I go? I am tired of your questions. For some of them I saw but yesterday.

C. Bald. I leave the judge to tell thee what thou C. Bald. What did those answers say ? Bel. I cannot speak to the particulars;

A father cannot find a name for thee. But I remember well, the sum of them

Take him away.

(Carlos led off.) Was much the same, and all agreed,

Grant me, sweet heay'n! the patience to go That there was nothing to be hoped from you:

through That 'twas your barbarous resolution

The torment of my cure. Here, here begins To let him perish there.

The operation. Alas! she's mad, C. Bald. Oh, Carlos! Carlos! hadst thou been a brother

Enter ISABELLA, distracted; and her child running Car. This is a plot upon me. I never knew

from her. He was in slavery, or was alive,

Vil. My Isabella, poor, unhappy wretch! Or heard of him, before this fatal hour.

What can I say to her? Bel. There, sir, I must confront you.

Isa. Nothing, nothing; 'tis a babbling world; He sent you a letter, to my knowledge, last night; I'll hear no more on't When does the court sit? And you sent him word you would come to him. I have a cause to try. I fear you came too soon.

Will you not hear it? Then I must appeal C. Bald. 'Tis all too plain,

To the bright throne. - Call down the heav'nly Bring out that wretch before him.


To witness how you use me. (Pedro produced.)

C. Bald. Pray, give her way. She'll hurt no. Car. Ha! Pedro there! Then I am caught, in

body. deed,

Isa. What have you done with him? He was Bel. You start at sight of him;

here but now; He has confess'd the bloody deed.

I saw him here. Oh, Biron, Biron! where, Car. Well, then, he has confess'd,

Where have they hid thee from me?

He is gone. And I must answer it.

But here's a little flaming cherubim Brl. Is there no more?

Will nothing do? I did not hope to find Car. Why? what would you have more? I know Justice on earth; 'tis not in heav'n neither, the worst,

Biron has watch'd his opportunityAnd I expect it.

Softly; he steals it from the sleeping gods, C. Bald. Why hast thou done all this?

And sends it thus-Ha, ha, ha! (Stabs herself.) Car. Why, that which damns most men bas Now I laugh at you; I defy you all, ruin'd me;

You tyrant murderers! The making of my fortune. Biron stood

C. Bald. Oh, thou most injured innocence! Yet Between me and your favour; while he lived,

live, I had not that; hardly was thought a son,

Live but to witness for me to the world, And not at all akin to your estate.

How much I do repent me of the wrongs, I could not bear a younger brother's lot,

The unnatural wrongs, which I have heap'd on To live depending upon courtesy.

thee, Had you provided for me like a father,

And have pull'd down this judgment on us all. I had been still a brother,

Vil. Oh, speak! speak but a word of comfort to C. Bald. 'Tis too true;

me! I never loved thee as I should have done;

C. Bald. If the most tender father's care and It was my sin, and I am punish'd for't.

love Oh, never may distinction rise again

Of thee, and thy poor child, can make amends, In families! let parents be the same

Oh, yet look up and live!
To all their children; common in their care,

Isa. Where is that little wretch ?
And in their love of them. I am unhappy.
For loving one too well.

(They raise her.) Vil. You knew your brother lived; why did you i uis in peace, to leave him to your care. take

I have a wretched mother's legacy, Such pains to marry me to Isabella?

A dying kiss : pray let me give it him, Car. I had my reasons fort,

My blessing; that, that's all I have to leave thee. Vil. More than I thought you had.

Oh, may thy father's virtues live in thee! Car. But one was this:

And all his wrongs be buried in my grave. I knew my brother loyed his wife so well,








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Moll F.-" AND I AM A WOMAN OF FASHION."-Act iii, scene 4.

Persons Represented.




At the close of the Overture, a peal of bells is heard at a distance, the curtain continuing down; when the peal is nearly finished, the curtain rises and discovers a magnificent Entrance to a Park, with a View of a Gothic Castle on an eminence at a distance. On the side scene, near the park-gate, the outside of a small neat Farm-house, with a bank of turf before the door, on which SOPHIA and ANNETTE are seated, and at work. Annette throws down her work, and runs to meet PEGGY, who enters immediately on the other side. Sophia continues to work pensively.

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My little heart is dancing.
When the merry bells go ding, ding,
My heart beats time as I trip along;
And my eyes impart
How light my heart;
While all the burden of my song,
Fal, fal la, ding, ding, dong.

Peggy. Keep it up, jolly ringers; ding, ding, dong! and away with it again; it puts my spirits quite in a heyday. I never hear a merry peal but my heart beats time to it.

Ann. Ay, and your tongue too, Peggy.

Peggy. To be sure I do rattle away; but when good nature sets a woman's tongue a-going, they must have very bad ears for music who wish to stop it. What say you, my little foreigner?

Ann. You know, Peggy, my spirits are generally in time and tune with yours. I was out of my wits for your coming back, to know what was going on. Is all this for the wake?

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Sophia. Consider my situation, Peggy.

Pey. To be sure I do, and that's why I want you to consider my advice. Helpless souls! you haven't a single faculty to make the pot boil between you. I should like to see you at work in a dairy; your little nice fingers may serve to rear an unfledged linnet, but would make sad work at cramming poultry for market.

Sophia. But you, my good Peggy, ought not to upbraid me; for you have helped to spoil me, by taking every care and trouble off my hands: the humility of our fortunes ought to have put us more upon a level.

Peggy. That's a notion I can't bear. I speak my mind familiarly to be sure, because I mean no harm; but I never pretend to more than a servant, and you were born to be a lady: I'm sure on't; Í see it, as sure as the gipsies, in every turn of your

Sophia. Charmed with it, Peggy; and so indeed I am: it was the life of a mother I can never forget. I do not pass an hour without reflecting on the happiness she diffused and enjoyed.

Peggy. Then if you'd follow her example, put a little less sorrow in your sentiment, and a little more sunshine in your countenance, and never sacrifice the main chance for moonshine.


Sophia. Have done, Peggy, or you'll make me seriously angry: this is your particular day of non


Peggy. No nonsense, but a plain road to fortune. Our young landlord, Sir John Contrast's son, is expected ever hour; now, get but your silly passion for Trumore out of your head, and my life on't, 'twill do. I dreamt last night I saw you with a bunch of nettles instead of a nosegay, and that's a sure sign of a wedding: let us watch for him at the park gate, and take your aim; you eyes will carry further, and hit surer, than the best gun your father has.

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Sophia. Heigho!


Ann. Ay, that's the old tune; it's all night long, sigh, sigh! pine, pine! I can hardly get a wink of sleep.

married a husband as young as myself, And for every frolic as willing; Together we laugh'd when we had any pelf,

And we laugh'd when we had not a shilling. gone to the wars; heav'n send him a prize! For his pains he is welcome to spend it; example, I know, is more merry than wise, But, lord help me! I never shall mend it.


Peggy. And how is it ever to end? The two fathers, yours and your lover's, are specially circum-He's stanced to make a family alliance. A curate, with forty pounds a year, has endowed his son with two fine qualities to entail his poverty, learning and modesty; and my gentleman (my master, heaven bless him!) is possessed of this mansion, a farm of a hundred acres, a gun, and a brace of spaniels. I should have thought the example so long before your eyes, of living upon love, might have made you

Ann. It would be a thousand pities you eve should

Peggy. But here comes your father and Rental, the steward; they seem in deep discourse. Sophia. Let us go in, then; it might displease my father to interrupt them.

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Peggy. Don't be too sure of yourself, miss; there kind, when, in fact, he is only out of humour with is no age in which a woman is so likely to be in-himself. fected with fo'ly, as just when she arrives at what Rent. I always thought you must have been bred they call years of discretion.

above the station I saw you in; but I never guessed

how much. Could you immediately submit to such [Exeunt into the house.

a change of situation ? Enter RASHLY and RENTAL.

Rash. No; I thought of different professions to

support the rank of a gentleman: after various Rent. But you are the only tenant upon the ma- trials, I found I wanted suppleness for some of my nor that has not congratulated our new landlord pursuits, and talent, perhaps, for others; and my apon taking possession of his purchase.

last resource was a cottage and love, in the most Rash. Strange disposition of events! that he, of literal sense of both. My Anna was equally fitted all mankind, should be purchaser in this country! for a cottage as a court. Her person, her accom(Aside.) I must not see Sir John Contrast.

plishments, her temper, the universal charm of Rent. Why so? he is prepared; in giving him society, made our new life a source of delight. an account of his tenants, your name wasn't forgot.

AIR.-(Original.) -RASHLY. Rash. And pray, my friend, how did you describe me?

Enrompass'd in an angel's frame, Rent. As what I always found you, an honest

An angel's virtues lay; man. One can go no further than that word in the

Too soon did heav'n assert the claim. praise of a character; therefore, to make him bet

And call its own away. ter acquainted with yours, I was forced to tell him the worst I knew of you.

My Anna's worth, my Anna's charms,

Just never more return:
Rash. Good Rental, what might that be?
Rent. I told him you had the benevolence of a

What now shalı fill these widow'd aris : prince, with means little better than a peasant;

Ah me! my Anna's urn! » that, consequently, your family was often indebted to your gun (at which you were the best hand in Rent. Not so, my good sir; you have two living the country) for the only meat in your kitchen. images of her; and for their sakes you must try to Rash. And what said he to the gun?

work upon this old obdurate-Heaven has, perRent. Shook his head, and said, if you were a haps, sent you together for that purpose. poacher, woe be to you when his son arrived.

Rash. No, my friend, he is inflexibility itself. Rash. His son !

I mean to fly þim. It must be your part to dispose Rent. Yes, his only son, in fact; the eldest, it of my farm and little property. seems was turned out of doors twenty years ago,

Rent. Your resolution is too hasty. I pretend for a marriage against his consent. This is by a

to no skill in plotting; but I think I see my way second wife, and declared to be his heir. He gives clearly in your case. Dear sir, be advised by me. him full rein to run his own course, so he does not

La. N. (Without.) Holloa! countryman! do you marry; and by all accounts, a fine rate he goes at belong to the lodge ? Rash. But what is becoming of the elder?

Rash. Heyday! what strange figure have we Rent. Nobody knows; but the old servants, who here? remember him, are always lamenting the change. Rent. As I live, the young heir's gentleman. I Rash. You know him well?

got acquainted with his character when I was in Rent. What do you mean?

London to solicit the stewardship, and it is as cuRash. A discovery that will surprise you. I have rious as his master's. lived with you the many years we have been ac- Rash. What countryman is he? quainted, an intimate friend and an impostor. Rent. True English by birth; he took his foreign Rent. An impostor ?

name upon his travels, to save his master's repuRash. Your new master, the purchaser of this tation. Nothing is so disgraceful, now-a-days, as estate is an obstinate father; I am a disinherited to be waited upon by your own countryman: pray son: put these circumstances together, and instead be contented toof Rashly call meRont. Is it possible?

Enter LA NIPPE, affectedly dressed. Rash. Call me Contrast.

La N. Halloa, countryman! which is the nearest Rent. Mr. Rasbly, Sir John Contrast's son ? way-What, Mr. Rental? faith, the sun was 80

Rash. Even bo; for the sole offence of a marriage much in my eyes, I did not know you. with one of the most amiable of womankind, I Rent. Welcome to Castle Manor, Mr. Homestall; received one of Sir John's rescripts, as he calls the I forget your French name. signification of his pleasure, with a note of one La N. La Nippe, at your service; and when you thousand pounds, and a prohibition of his pre- see me thus equipped, I hope you'll forget my sence for ever. I knew his temper too well to English one; for though you see me thus metareply.

morphosed, I have modesty enough left to blush at Rent. You must know him best; I had conceived hearing it, for having defaced English oak with him of a disposition more odd than harsh.

plaster of Paris. Rash. You are right; but this oddity has all the Rent. Pray, how came you to be on foot? effects of harshness. Sir John Contrast has ever La N. A spring in the chaise broke at the bottom thought decision to be the criterion of wisdom; of the hill; the boy was quite a bore in tying it up, and is as much averse to retract an error as a right so I took out my luggage, and determined to walk action. In short, in his character, there is a con- honie. tinual variance between a good heart and a perverse Rash. The prettiest little package I ever saw. head; and he often appears angry with all man- Rent. What may it contain ?

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