But we have done with hope-I pray excuse This incoherence-We had once a son.

[Weeps. Agn. That you are come from the dear virtuous maid,

Revives in us the mem'ry of a loss, Which, though long since, we have not learn'd to bear.

Wil. The joy to see them, and the bitter pain It is to see them thus, touches my soul With tenderness and grief, that will o'erflow. They know me not, and yet, I fear, I shall Defeat my purpose, and betray myself.

[Aside.

O. Wil. The lady calls you, here, her valued friend; [plied, Enough, though nothing more should be imTo recommend you to our best esteem,A worthless acquisition-May she find [ness! Some means that better may express her kindBut she, perhaps, hath purpos'd to enrich You with herself, and end her fruitless sorrow For one whom death alone can justify For leaving her so long. If it be so, May you repair his los, and be to Charlotte A second, happier, Wilmot! Partial nature, Who only favours youth, as feeble age Were not her offspring, or below her care, Has seal'd our doom: no second hope shall spring

To dry our tears, and dissipate despair.

Agn. The last and most abandon'd of our kind!

By heaven and earth neglected or despised! The loathsome grave, that robb'd us of our son, And all our joys in him, must be cur refuge.

Wil. Let ghosts unpardon'd, or devoted fiends, Fear without hope, and wail in such sad

strains;

But grace defend the living from despair!
The darkest hours precede the rising sun;
And mercy may appear when least expected.
O. Wil. This 1 have heard a thousand times
repeated,

And have, believing, been as oft deceiv'd.

Wil. Behold in me an instance of its truth. At sea twice shipwreck'd, and as oft the prey Of lawless pirates; by the Arabs thrice Surpris'd and robb'd on shore; and once reduc'd

To worse than these, the sum of all distress That the most wretched feel on this side hell,

E'en slavery itself: yet here I stand,
Except one trouble that will quickly end,
The happiest of mankind.

O. Wil. A rare example

Of fortune's changes; apter to surprise
Or entertain, than comfort or instruct.
If you would reason from events, be just,
And count, when you escap'd, how many
perish'd;

And draw your inference thence.
Agn. Alas! who knows,

But we were render'd childless by some storm,
In which you, though preserv'd, might bear a

part?

Wil. How has my curiosity betray'd me Into superfluous pain! I faint with fondness; And shall, if I stay longer, rush upon them, Proclaim myself their son, kiss and embrace them;

Till their souls, transported with the excess Of pleasure and surprise, quit their frail mansions,

And leave them breathless in my longing arms. By circumstances then, and slow degrees, They must be let into a happiness

Too great for them to bear at once, and live: That Charlotte will perform: I need not feign To ask an hour for rest. [Aside.] Sir, I en

treat

The favour to retire, where, for a while, I may repose myself. You will excuse This freedom, and the trouble that I give you: 'Tis long since I have slept, and nature calls. O. Wil. I pray, no more; believe we're only troubled,

[ful. That you should think any excuse were needWil. The weight of this is some incumbrance;

[Takes a casket out of his bosom, and gives
it to his mother.

And its contents of value: if you please
To take the charge of it 'till I awake,
I shall not rest the worse. If I should sleep
Till I am ask'd for, as perhaps I may,
I beg that you would wake me.
Agn. Doubt it not:

Distracted as I am with various woes,
I shall remember that. [Exit, with O. WIL.

Wil. Merciless grief!
What ravage has it made! how has it chang'd
Her lovely form and mind! I feel her anguish,
And dread, I know not what, from her despair.
My father too-O grant them patience,
Heaven!

A little longer, a few short hours more, And all their cares, and mine, shall end for [Exit.

ever.

ACT III.

SCENE 1.-The same.

AGNES enters alone, with the casket in her hand. Agn. Who should this stranger be? And then this casket

He says it is of value, and yet trusts it,
As if a trifle, to a stranger's hand-
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
[ease

cares

And sorrows of my own?-With how much
The spring gives way?-Surprising!
My eyes are dazzled, and my ravish'd heart

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,

us.

And lofty pride bare its aspiring head
At our approach, and once more bend before
[wake.
A pleasing dream! 'Tis past; and now I
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
touch'd

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 e'er 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,
Begg'd me to comfort thee: and-dost thou
hear me?-
[well-
What art thou gazing on?-Fie, 'tis not
This casket was deliver'd to you clos'd:
Why have you open'd it? Should this be known,
How mean must we appear?

Agn. And who shall know it?

O. Wil. There is a kind of pride, a decent dignity, [tunes, Due to ourselves; which, spite of our misforMay be maintain'd, and cherish'd to the last. To live without reproach, and without leave To quit the world, shows sovereign contempt, And noble scorn of its relentless malice. Agn. Shows sovʼreign madness, and a scorn of sense.

Pursue no farther this detested theme:
I will not die, I will not leave the world
For all that you can urge, until compell'd.
O. Wil. To chase a shadow, when the set-
ting sun,

Is darting his last rays, were just as wise,
As your anxiety for fleeting life,
Now the last means for its support are failing:
Were famine not as mortal as the sword,
Your warmth might be 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?
4gn. 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

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. Th' inhospitable murder of ou
guest!-
[damning,
How could'st thou form a thought so very
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
For our own preservation.
[plead

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. Gen'rous, 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 estate,
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
In some remote, inhospitable land- [perish
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 unnatʼral 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. I confess That thou hast "suffer'd much: so have we [purpose.

both.

But chide no more I'm wrought up to thy
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.

B

[Exit AGNES

Or I'm deceiv'd, 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 grissly death,
Are with ring in their bloom. But, thought
extinguish'd,

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 envy'd, 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.

Are these your transports for your son's return?

Where is my Wilmot? Has he not been here?
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?

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

O. W'il. 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. Eust. My mind misgives me. Do not stand to gaze

On these dumb phantoms of despair and horror!

Let us search farther: Randal, show the way. [Exeunt RANDAL, EUSTACE, and CHARLOTTE, Agn. Let life forsake the earth, and light

the sun,

And death and darkness bury in oblivion Mankind and all their deeds, that no posterity May ever rise to hear our horrid tale,

Or view the grave of such detested parricides. O. Wil. Curses and deprecations are in The sun will shine, and all things have their

self.

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

Agn. You're quite dismay'd.

course,

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

4

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, Wil-

mot!

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

woman!

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

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

mot?

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 re. morse!

May all our woes end here!

O. Wa. O would they end A thousand ages hence, I then should suffer Much less than I deserve. Yet let me say, You'll do but justice, to inform the world, This horrid deed, that punishes itself, Was not intended, thinking him our son; For that we knew not, 'till it was too late. Proud and impatient under our afflictions, While heaven was labouring to make happy,

us

We brought this dreadful ruin on ourselves. Mankind may learn-but-oh!

[Dies.

Ran. Heaven grant they may! And may thy penitence atone thy crime! "Tend well the hapless Charlotte, and bear hence

These bleeding victims of despair and pride;
Toll the death-bell! and follow to the grave
The wretched parents and ill-fated son.
[Exeunt.