The British Drama: A Collection of the Most Esteemed Tragedies, Comedies ...

His confidence amazes me-Perhaps
It is not what he says-I'm strongly tempted
To open it and see-No, let it rest.
Why should my curiosity excite me
To search and pry into th' affairs of others,
Who have, t'employ my thoughts, so many cares
And sorrows of my own?-With how much ease
The spring gives way !—Surprising!
My eyes are dazzled, and my ravish'd heart
Leaps at the glorious sight-How bright's the
lustre,

How immense the worth of these fair jewels?
Ay, such a treasure would expel for ever
Base poverty, and all its abject train;
Famine; the cold neglect of friends;
The galling scorn or more provoking pity
Of an insulting world-Possess'd of these,
Plenty, content, and power might take their turn,
And lofty pride bare its aspiring head

At our approach, and once more bend before us.-
A pleasing dream! "Tis past; and now I wake.
For sure it was a happiness to think,
Though but a moment, such a treasure mine,
Nay, it was more than thought—I saw and
touched

The bright temptation, and I see it yet→
'Tis here-'tis mine-I have it in possession-
Must I resign it? Must I give it back?
And I, in love with misery and want,
To rob myself, and court so vast a loss?—
Retain it then-But how ?-There is a way-
Why sinks my heart? Why does my blood run
cold?

Why am I thrill'd with horror ?-Tis not choice,
But dire necessity, suggests the thought.

Enter OLD WILMOT.

O. Wil. The mind contented, with how little pains

The wand'ring senses yield to soft repose,
And die to gain new life? He's fallen asleep
Already, happy man!-What dost thou think,
My Agnes, of our unexpected guest?
He seems to me a youth of great humanity:
Just ere he clos'd his eyes, that swam in tears,
He wrung my hand and press'd it to his lips;
And with a look that pierc'd me to the soul,
Begged me to comfort thee: and-dost thou
hear me?-

What art thou gazing on ?-Fie, 'tis not well-
This casket was delivered to you closed:
Why have you open'd it? Should this be known,
How mean must we appear?

Ag. And who shall know it?

O. Wil. There is a kind of pride, a decent dignity,

Due to ourselves; which, spite of our misfor

Were famine not as mortal as the sword,
Your warmth might oe excus'd-But take thy
choice;

Die how you will, you shall not die alone.
Agn. Nor live, I hope.

O. Wil. There is no fear of that.
Agn. Then, we'll live both.

O. Wil. Strange folly! where the means?
Agn. There those jewels-

O. Wil. Ah!-Take heed!

Perhaps thou dost but try me; yet take heedThere's nought so monstrous but the mind of

man

In some conditions may be brought t'approve;
Theft, sacrilege, treason, and parricide,
When flatt'ring opportunity entic'd,
And desperation drove, have been committed
By those who once would start to hear them
nam'd.

Agn. And add to these detested suicide,
Which, by a crime much less, we may avoid.

O.Wil. The inhospitable murder of our guest!— How could'st thou form a thought so very damning,

So advantageous, so secure, and easy;
And yet so cruel, and so full of horror?

Agn. 'Tis less impiety, less against nature,, To take another's life than end our own.

O. Wil. No matter which, the less or greater

crime :

Howe'er we may deceive ourselves or others,
We act from inclination, not by rule,
Or none could act amiss.-And that all err,
None but the conscious hypocrite denies.
O! what is man, his excellence and strength,
When in an hour of trial and desertion,
Reason, his noblest power, may be suborn'd
To plead the cause of vile assassination.
Agn. You're too severe; reason may justly
plead

For our own preservation.

O. Wil. Rest contented:
Whate'er resistance I may seem to make,
I am betray'd within: my will's seduc'd,
And my whole soul infected. The desire
Of life returns, and brings with it a train
Of appetites, that rage to be supplied.
Whoever stands to parley with temptation,
Parleys to be o'ercome.

Agn. Then nought remains,
But the swift execution of a deed
That is not to be thought on or delay'd.
O. Wil. Generous, unhappy man! O! what
could move thee

To put thy life and fortune in the hands
Of wretches mad with anguish.

Agn. By what means
Shall we effect his death?

O. Wil. Why, what a fiend!-
How cruel, how remorseless, and impatient,
Have pride and poverty made thee?

Agn. Barbarous man!

Whose wasteful riots ruin'd our estates,
And drove our son, ere the first down had spread
His rosy cheeks, spite of my sad presages,
Earnest entreaties, agonies, and tears,
To seek his bread 'mongst strangers, and to perisu
In some remote, inhospitable land-
The loveliest youth, in person and in mind,
That ever crown'd a groaning mother's pains!
Where was thy pity, where thy patience then,
Thou cruel husband! thou unnat ral father!

Thou most remorseless, most ungrateful man!,
To waste my fortune, rob me of my son;
To drive me to despair, and then reproach me
For being what thou'st made me.

O. Wil. Dry thy tears:

I ought not to reproach thee. 1 confess

That thou hast suffer'd much: so have we both.
But chide no more; I'm wrought up to thy purpose.
The poor, ill-fated, unsuspecting victim,
Ere he reclin'd him on the fatal couch,
From which he's ne'er to rise, took off the sash
And costly dagger that thou saw'st him wear;
And thus, unthinking, furnish'd us with arms
Against himself. Steal to the door,
And bring me word, if he be still asleep.
[Exit AGNES.
Or I'm deceived, or he pronounc'd himself
The happiest of mankind. Deluded wretch!
Thy thoughts are perishing, thy youthful joys,
Touch'd by the icy hand of grisly death,
Are with'ring in their bloom. But, thought
tinguish'd,

Stop, hold thy hand!-Inconstant, wretched woman!

What! doth my heart recoil?-O, Wilmot! Wil

mot!

What power shall I invoke to aid thee, Wilmot [Scene closes

SCENE III-Another Room.

Enter CHARLOTTE, EUSTACE, and RANDAL. Char. What strange neglect! The doors are all unbarr'd,

And not a living creature to be seen.

Enter OLD WILMOT and AGNES.
Sir we are come to give and to receive
A thousand greetings.-Ha! what can this mean?
Why do you look with such amazement on us?
Are these your transports for your son's return?
Where is my Wilmot? Has he not been here?
ex-Would he defer your happiness so long;
Or, could a habit so disguise your son,
That you refus'd to own him?
Agn. Heard you that?

He'll never know the loss, nor feel the bitter
Pangs of disappointment. Then I was wrong
In counting him a wretch: to die well pleas'd,
Is all the happiest of mankind can hope for.
To be a wretch, is to survive the loss
Of every joy, and even hope itself,
As I have done. Why do I mourn him then?
For, by the anguish of my tortur'd soul,
He's to be envied, if compar'd with me. [Exit.
SCENE II.—A Room, with YOUNG WILMOT
asleep upon a Bed, in the distance.
Enter OLD WILMOT and AGNES.
Agn. The stranger sleeps at present; but so
restless

His slumbers seem, they can't continue long.
Here, I've secur'd his dagger.

O. Wil. O, Agnes! Agnes! if there be a hell,
'tis just

We should expect it.

Goes to take the dagger, lets it fall. Agn. Shake off this panic, and be more yourself.

O. Wil. What's to be done? On what had we determin'd?

Agn. You're quite dismay'd.

What prodigy of horror is disclosing,
To render murder venial!

O. Wil. Pr'ythee, peace:

The miserable damn'd suspend their howling,
And the swift orbs are fix'd in deep attention.
Ran. What mean these dreadful words and
frantic air!

That is the dagger my young master wore.

Eus. My mind misgives me. Do not stand to

course,

When we the curse and burden of the earth,
Shall be absorb'd and mingled with its dust.
Our guilt and desolation must be told,

[Takes up the dagger. From age to age, to teach desponding mortals,
How far beyond the reach of human thought
Heaven, when incens'd, can punish.-Die thou
[Stabs AGNES.

O. Wil. Give me the fatal steel. "Tis but a single murder:

Necessity, impatience and despair,

The three wide mouths of that true Cerberus,
Grim Poverty, demand;-they shall be stopp'd.
Ambition, persecution, and revenge,

Devour their millions daily and shall I-
But follow me, and see how little cause
You had to think there was the least remain
Of manhood, pity, mercy, or remorse,
Left in this savage breast.

first.

I dare not trust thy weakness.

Agn. Ever kind,

But most in this!

O. Wil. I will not long survive thee.
Agn. Do not accuse thy erring mother, Wilmot!
With too much rigour, when we meet above.
To give thee life for life, and blood for blood,
Is not enough. Had I ten thousand lives,

[Going the wrong way. I'd give them all to speak my penitence,

Agn. Where do you go?
The street is that way.

O. Wil. True, I had forgot.
Agn. Quite, quite confounded.
O. Wil. Well, I recover.
I shall find the way.
[Retires towards the bed.
Agn. O, softly! softly! The least noise undoes

us.

What are we doing? Misery and want
Are lighter ills than this! I cannot bear it!—

Deep, and sincere, and equal to my crime.
Oh, Wilmot! oh, my son! my son!

Enter RANDAL and EUSTACE.
Eust. Oh, Wilmot! Wilmot!
Are these the fruits of all thy anxious cares
For thy ungrateful parents ?-Cruel fiends!

[Dies.

O. Wil. What whining fool art thou, whe would'st usurp

My sovereign right of grief?-Was he thy son ?

Say! canst thou show thy hands reeking with blood,

That flow'd, through purer channels, from thy loins?

Compute the sands that bound the spacious ocean,
And swell their numbers with a single grain;
Increase the noise of thunder with thy voice;
Or, when the raging wind lays nature waste,
Assist the tempest with thy feeble breath!
But name not thy faint sorrow with the anguish
Of a curs'd wretch, who only hopes for this
[Stabs himself.
To change the scene, but not relieve his pain.
Ran. A dreadful instance of the last remorse!
May all our woes end here!

Ó. Wil. O would they end

THE GUARDIAN:

A COMEDY,

IN TWO ACTS.

BY DAVID GARRICK, Esq.

REMARKS.

Mr. Garrick, perhaps the best judge of the drama that this or any other nation ever produced, has, in the following little piece, presented the theatrical world with a translation of M. Fagan's "Pupille," which was esteemed a very complete little comedy. He has, however, not confined himself to a mere translation, but has, with great judgment, made "such alterations from the original as the difference of the language and manners required." The success with which this piece was attended, so far exceeded the hopes of the author, that he availed himself of "an opportunity to return thanks to the public for their kind indulgence, and to the performers, for their great

care."

Mr. Heartly the guardian, originally performed by Mr. Garrick himself, and Miss Harriot, his ward, by Miss Pritchard, are two finely-drawn characters, which were well supported.

Serv. I shall, Sir

[Exit. Sir C. Now nephew, consider once again, before I open the matter to my neighbour Heartly, what I am going to undertake for you.-Why don't you speak?

Young C. Is it proper and decent, uncle?

Sir C. Pshaw; don't be a fool-but answer me don't you flatter yourself What assurance have you that this young lady, my friend's ward, has a liking to you?

Young C. First then-Whenever I see her she never looks at me-That's a sign of love.— Whenever I speak to her she never answers 16

me-Another sign of love.-And whenever I speak to any body else she seems to be perfectly easy-That's a certain sign of love.

Sir C. The devil it is!

Young C. When I am with her, she's always grave; and the moment I get up to leave her, then the poor thing begins-"Stay, you agreeable runaway, stay, I shall soon overcome the fears your presence gives me."I could say more- -But a man of honour, uncle

Sir C. What, and has she said all these things

to you?

Young C. O yes, and ten times more-with her eyes.

Sir C. With her eyes! Eyes are very equivocal, Jack. However, if the young lady has any liking to you, Mr. Heartly is too much a man of the world, and too much my friend, to oppose the match; so do you walk into the garden, and I will open the matter to him.

Young C. Is there any objection to my staying,

You Young C. You'll excuse me, Mr. HeartlyMy uncle does not set up for an orator-a little confused or so, Sir-You see what I am--But I ought to ask pardon for the young lady and myself. We are young, Sir.-I must confess we were wrong to conceal it from you-but my uncle, see is pleased to be angry, and therefore I shall say no more at present.

uncle? The business will soon be ended.
will propose the match, he will give his consent,
I shall give mine, miss is sent for, and l'affaire
est fait
[Snapping his fingers.
Sir C. And so you think that a young beautiful
heiress, with forty thousand pounds, is to be had
with a scrap of French, and a snap of your fin-1
ger-Pr'ythee, get away, and don't provoke me.
Young C. Well, well, I am gone, unele.-
When you come to the point, I shall be ready to
make my appearance-Bon voyage! (Exit.
Sir C. The devil's in these young fellows, II
think-We send 'em abroad to cure their sheep-
ishness, and they get above proof the other way.
Enter HEARTLY.

Good morrow to you, neighbour.

Heart. And to you, Sir Charles; I am glad to see you so strong and healthy.

Sir C. I can return you the compliment, my friend-Without flattery, you don't look more than thirty-five; and between ourselves, you are on the wrong side of forty-But, mum for that. Heart. Ease and tranquillity keep me as you

see.

Sir C. Why don't you marry, neighbour? A good wife would do well for you.

Heart. For me? you are pleased to be merry, Sir Charles.

Sir C. No, faith, I am serious, and had I a daughter to recommend to you, you should say me nay, more than once, I assure you, neighbour Heartly, before I would quit you.

Heart. I am much obliged to you.

Sir C. And now to my business.-You have no objection, I suppose, to tie up your ward, Miss Harriot, though you have slipped the collar yourself-Ha, ha, ha!

Heart. Quite the contrary, Sir; I have taken her some time from the boarding school, and brought her home, in order to dispose of her worthily with her own inclination.

Sir C. Her father, I have heard you say, recommended that particular care to you, when she had reached a certain age.

Heart. He did so-Ånd I am the more desirous to obey him scrupulously in this circumstance, as she will be a most valuable acquisition to the person who shall gain her-for, not to mention her fortune which is the least consideration, her sentiments are worthy her birth; she is gentle, modest, and obliging-In a word, my friend, never saw youth more amiable or discreet-but perhaps I am a little partial to her.

Sir C. No, no, she is a delicious creature, every body says so-But I believe, neighbour, something has happened that you little think of. Heart. What, pray, Sir Charles? Sir C. My nephew, Mr. Heartly——————

Re-enter YOUNG CLACKIT.

Young C. Here I am at your service, Sir.My uncle is a little unhappy in his manner; but I'll clear the matter in a moment-Miss Harriot, Sir-your ward

Sir C. Get away, you puppy! Young C. Miss Harriot, sir, your ward, a most accomplished young lady, to be sure

Sir C. Thou art a must accomplished coxcomb, to be sure.

Heart. Pray, Sir Charles, let the young gentleman speak.

Sir C. If you don't leave the room this moment, and stay in the garden till I call you

Young C. I am sorry I have displeased you— did not think it was mal-a-propos; but you must have your way, uncle-You command--I submit-Mr. Heartly, yours. [Exit.

Sir C. Puppy! [Aside.] My nephew's a little unthinking, Mr. Heartly, as you see, and therefore I have been a little cautious how I have proceeded in this affair: but indeed he has persuaded me, in a manner, that your ward and he are not ill together.

Heart. Indeed! This is the first notice I have had of it, and I cannot conceive why Miss Harriot should conceal it from me; for I have often assured her that I would never oppose her inclination, though I might endeavour to direct it.

Sir C. You are right, neighbour.-But here she is.

Heart. Don't be disturb'd, I shall not reproach you with any thing but keeping your wishes a secret from me so long.

Har. Upon my word, Sir-Lucy!

Lucy. Well, and Lucy! I'll lay my life 'tis a treaty of marriage. Is that such a dreadful thing? Oh, for shame, Madam! Young ladies of fashion are not frightened at such things now-a-days.

Heart. (To SIR CHARLES.] We have gone too far, Sir Charles.-We must excuse her delicacy, and give her time to recover:-I had better talk with her alone; we will leave her now.-Be persuaded that no endeavours shall be wanting on my part to bring this affair to a happy and speedy conclusion.

翼人

Sir C. I shall be obliged to you, Mr. Heartly.— Young lady, your servant.-What grace and modesty! She is a most engaging creature, and I shall be proud to make her one of my family. [TO HEARTLY. Heart. You do us honour, Sir Charles. [Exeunt SIR CHARLES and HEARTLY. Lucy. Indeed, Miss Harriot, you are very particular. You was tired of the boarding school, and yet seem to have no inclination to be married. What can be the meaning of all this? That smirking old gentleman is uncle to Mr. Clackit; and, my life for it, he has made some proposals to your guardian.

Har. Pr'ythee, don't plague me about Mr. Clackit.

Lucy. But why not, Miss? Though he is a

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