My pretty one, here is an ornament Inference. (pulling Moonshine by the sleeve) Hold, That passes current with the female sex- Hebe. Twenty guineas! Moonshine. So you must not refuse it, positivelyFor my sake you must not. Hebe. (aside) For your sake, Robert, I will not. Moonshine. Take it, fair nymph: 'Twill from a necklace grace that ivory bosom. Hebe. I thank you, sir, I thank you! Moonshine. "Tis a trifle. Don't mention it-But (significantly) tell me, miss, your larder, Your larder, is it empty now? Hebe. Yes, sir, it is! Inference. Oh no, you mean that it soon will be, ma'am, After we've gain'd admittance. Hebe. Sir, indeed It is at present. Moonshine. Empty, empty! what? I'll not believe it, no, child. Inference. Nor will I (aside) That I may feast on my imagination. Moonshine. For shame! have you forgotten my rich boon? Hebe. Ah no, sir, I address my prayers above For your requital in a future state. Inference. Which, 'tis conclusive, will erelong arrive; If you do not supply our present wants. Hebe. I wish I could!- -You do, alas! appear In need of sustenance-yet, gentlemen, After this bounty you cannot be poor. Moonshine. No, no, not poor; but our misfortune is, That each of us since yester eve has been In galling durance to a horse's back: So have you aught or naught within your larder? Hebe. Ah, why suspect me when I tell a truth That strikes me with reproach-The only cottage. In all the country round reduc'd to want Is ours. Moonshine. (with importance) How, child? My own imprudence only is the cause! Then tell me-curse it-without more ado, Inference. (reproving him with irony) General, that question is impertinent : It presupposes you devoid of wit To mitigate an acrid disposition With the mild, milky flow of your own temper. Moonshine. If the man's crabbed let him be so stiil: I like not crusty nature in a smile: 'Tis like a lemon, it becomes insipid As soon as it grows sweet- -(to Hebe) However, girl, He's rich, say you? Hebe. Yes, very rich, I'm told~But, sir——— Moonshine. (going) Come, Mr. Scholium, it is time we walk. Hebe. But how shall I discharge my obligations? [exit Moonshine without deigning an answer Inference. Consequently, maʼam D -(aside) The mercenary wretch Would have the start of me Ho, general, ho Hebe. This gift! name! -Ho, general, ho! [exit [goes out of the cottage Great Providence, I thank thee-in my brother's SCENE II.-An apartment in AMBERT's house. Enter AMBERT, followed by a servant. Amb. Has Loobin, the old cottager, yet come? Amb. Send him hither. [exit servant, and in a few moments Enter LOOBIN. Loobin, take this, (handing him a purse) give it to Frederic Worlace, The English youth addressing Courland's daughter. Loobin. And if, sir, if he ask me whence it cameAmb, As you dread my resentment do not tell him. Loobin. Well, well, sir. Amb. Loobin. Loobin. Do you fear me, sir? Amb. Ha! who approaches? -leave me. [exit Loobin at one door, and a few moments after, at the opposite end of the stage, Enter servant showing in FREDERIC WORLACE. Fred. Worl. May I hope You'll pardon this intrusion from a stranger When, sir, you know I come to plead the cause (Ambert returns Frederic's bow with some reserve, and beckons the servant to leave the room) Not long since The secret sway of an o'erruling power Led me along an unfrequented road- A thousand groups of correspondent gloom I watch'd it long at length my eyes, depress'd Sought respite on the earth-but there were startled As it was wretched! 'Twas, sir, an old woman: Her wither'd arms lay lifeless on the ground Of an old blasted tree-To her bare head A few white straggling hairs with moisture cleav'd, Over her deadly visage lingering drops Rested in wrinkles furrowed by the hand Of fourscore years at least- Her eyes were rais'd, My mind was lost in horror-when her voice He ask'd her place of residence, and she Reply'd she had no home, nor knew how to Procure one. Amb. (in a contemptuous manner) You, of course, believ'd her. Fred. Worl. As firmly as I had the voice of inspi ration! She nam'd a neighbouring cottage, and declar'd But that Amb. (unable to suppress his resentment) But what, sir? Fred Worl. That not many hours before Fred. Worl. May be perhaps conjectur❜d. Amb. Have you done, sir? Fred. Worl. If I've awaken'd the remorse of guilt I have perform'd my wish. Amb. But, sir, not mine! I would awaken the remorse of shame! Accuse me? It is I you mean- then tell me so! Fred. Worl. If wrong, sir, I am open to conviction. On whose foul lips my crime has been created. Fred. Worl. When forc'd Amb. Listen, rash youth, ere you insult me further This woman has but to expend a breath And solve a doubt with which my soul's afflicted; If absolutely sinking to the grave Would she not start at conscience, not disclose A truth which, told, would save her from perdition? The secret wasting in her perjur'd soul Is one on which my peace-my life depends: Nature, and love, and gratitude, and duty, Command her to reveal it Fred. Worl. How? -Yet she will not! Amb. No persuasion can entice it from her; And I would wring it now! Fred. Worl. Should it die with her? |