toping Friar take his bottle of wine; I fhall confine my. felf to plain cherry-brandy. Enter ANGELA. Ang. I am weary of wandering from room to room; in vain do I change the scene; discontent is every where. There was a time when mufic could delight my ear, and nature charm my eye; now all is loft, all faded! Alice. Lady Angela! Did you hear thofe noifes in the cedar room.? Ang. What noifes? I heard none. Alice. How -When the clock ftruck one, heard you no mufic? Ang. Mufic!-None. Alice And never have heard any while in the cedar room. Ang Not that 1. while I fat alone in my chamber this morning Alice. Well, Lady, well! Ang. I thonght I heard fome one finging; it feemed as, if the words ran thus, (finging)" Lullaby! Lullaby! Hush thee, my dear !" Alice. (fcreaming) The very words!It was the ghoft, Lady! it was the ghoft! Ang. The ghoft, Alice! I protest I thought it had been you. Alice Me, Lady! mercy, when did you hear this finging? Ang. Not five minutes ago, while you were talking with father Philip Alice. I am glad of it with all my heart! Then it was not the ghoft! it was I, Lady! it was I! And have you heard no other finging fince you came to the castle ? Ang. None; but why that question? Alice. Becaufe, Lady be frightened. But, perhaps, you may Ang. No, no, no, Alice; from good fpirits, I have nothing to fear, and Heaven and my innocence will protect me against bad. Alice. My fentiments, I proteft! but I must not stand here goffipping, I warrant all goes wrong in the kitchen: Your pardon, Lady, I must away! CHAPTER CX. SIR PHILIP BLANFORD, MISS BLANFORD AND HENRY. Mifs B. THE joy your tenantry difplayed at feeing you again must be truly grateful to you. Sir Phil. No, my child, for I feel I do not merit it. Alas! I can fee no orphans clothed with my beneficence, no anguish affuaged by my care. Mifs B. Then I am fure my dear father wishes to thew his kind intentions. So I will begin by placing one under your protection. (Leads Henry forth. Sir Philip on feeing him, farts, and becomes greatly agitated) Sir Phil. Ah! do my eyes deceive me? No, it must be him! Such was the face his father wore! Henry Spake you of my father? Sir Phil. His prefence brings back recollections which drive me to madnefs! How came he here? Who have I to blame for this? Mifs B. (Falling on h's neck) Your daughter. Henry. Oh, Sir, tell me! on my knees I ask it! do my parents live? Blefs me with my father's name, and my days fhall pafs in active gratitude, my nights in prayers for you. (Sir Philip views him with contempt.) Do not mock my mifery! Have you a heart? Sir Phil Yes; of marble. Cold and obdurate to the world-ponderous and painful to myself--Quit my fight for ever. Mifs B. Go, Henry, and fave me from my father's anger. Henry. I obey, cruel as the command is, I obey it I fhall often look at this (touching the medal*) and think on the blissful moment when your hand placed it there. Sir Phil. Ah! tear it from his breast. Henry. Sooner take my life! It is the first honour I have ever earned, and it is no mean one; for it affigns me the firft rank among the fons of industry! This is my claim to the sweet rewards of honeft labour; This will give me competence, nay more, enable me to defpife your tyranny! Sir Phil. Rafn boy, mark! Avoid me and be fecure-➡➡ * This medal Henry received from the hands of Miss Blan ford, which he won as the reward of his industry. Repeat this intrufion, and my yengeance fhall pursue thee. Henry. I defy its power !-You are in England, Sir, where the man, who bears about him an upright heart, bears a charm too potent for tyranny to humble. Can your frown wither up my youthful vigor? No! Can your breath ftifle in my heart the adoration it feels for that pitying angel? Oh, no! Sr Phil. Wretch! you shall be taught the difference between us! Henry. I feel it now! proudly feel it! You hate the man that never wrong'd you-I could love the man who injures me--You meanly triumph o'er a wormI make a giant tremble. Sir Phil. Take him from my fight! Why am I not obey'd? Mifs B. Henry, if you with my hate fhould not accompany my father's, inftantly retire. Henry. When you command I inftantly obey. CHAPTER CXI. SIR PHILIP BLANFORD AND FARMER ASHFIELD. ARMER Afhfield, I believe you hold a farm of mine. Sir Phil. FA Afb. Eez, zur, I do, at your zarvice. Sir Phil. I hope a profitable one. Alb. Zometimes it be, zur. But this year it be all t'other way as twur-but I do hope as our landlords have a tightish big lump of the good, they'll be zo kind hearted as to take a little bit of the bad. Sir Phil. It is but reasonable-I conclude then you are in my debt. Afb Eez, zur, I be-at your zarvice. Sir. Phil. How much? Afb. Zur, I do owe ye a hundred and fifty poundsat your zarvice. Sir Phil. Which you can't pay ? Afb. Not a varthing, zur-at your zarvice. Sir Phil. Well, I am willing to give you every indul. gence. Ab. Be you, zur; that be deadly kind. Dear heart! It will make my auld dame quite young again, and don't think helping a poor man will do your honour's health any harm-I don't, indeed, zur.—I had a thought of speaking to your worship about it but then, thinks J, the gentleman may be one of thofe that like to do a good turn, and not have a word zaid about it-zo, zur, if you had not mentioned what I owed you, I am zure I never fhould-should not indeed, zur. Sir Phil Nay, I will wholly acquit you of the debt, on condition Afb. Ees zur. Sir Phl. On condition, I fay, you inftantly turn out that boy-that Henry. Afb. Turn out Henry !-Ha, ha, ha! Excufe my tittering, zur; but you bees making your vun of I, zure. Sir Phil. I am not apt to trifle-fend him instantly from you, or take the confequences. A Turn out Henry! I do wow I fhou'dn't know how to fet about it-I should not indeed, zur. Sir Phil. You hear my determination. If you disobey, you know what will follow-I'll leave you to reflect on it. (Exit.) Afb. Well, zur, I'll argufy the topic, and then you may wait upon me, and I'll tell ye. (Makes the motion of turning out.) I fhould be deadly awkward at it vor zartin -however I'll put the cafe. Wel!! I goes whizzling whoam-no-drabit it! I fhou'dn't be able to wizzle a bit, I'm zure. Well! I goes whoam, and I zees Hez. ry zitting by my wife mixing up fomeit to comfort the wold zoul, and take away the pain of her rheumaticsvery well! Then Henry places a chair vor I by the virezide, and zays, "Varmer, the horfes be fed, the sheep be folded, and you have nothing to do but to zit down, smoke your pipe, and be happy!'-Very well! (becomes affected.) Then I zays-Henry, you be poor and friendlef, zo you must run out my houze directly." Very well! Then my wife ftares at I-reaches her hand towards the vire place, and throws the poker at my head. Very well! Then Henry gives a kind of anguifh fhake, and getting up, fighs from the bottom of his heart--then hold ing up his head like a king, zays-" Varmer, I have too long been a burden to you-Heaven protect you, as you have me-Farewell! I go." Then I fays, "If S thee does, I'll be hang'd!" (with great energy.) Hollo! you Mifter Sir Philip! you may come in Enter SIR PHILIP. Zur, I have argufied the topic, and it wou'd'nt be pretty-zo I can't. Sir Phil. Can't! abfurd! Afb. Well, zur, there is but one word-I won't. Afb. No, zur, I won't-I'd zee myfelf hang'd fift and you too, zur-I would indeed. (bowing.) Sir Phil. You refuse them to obey. Afb. I do, zur-at your zarvice. (bowing.) Ab. I be zorry for that too-I be indeed, zur; bot if corn wou'dn't grow I cou'dn't help it. It wan't poifoned by the hand that fow'd it. This hand, zur, be as, as free from guilt as your own. It were never held out to clinch a hard bargain, nor will it turn a good lad out into the wide wicked world because he be poorish a bit. I be zorry you be offended, zur, quite-dut come what wool. I'll never hit this hand against here, but when I be zure, that zomeit at the inzide will jump against it with pleafure. (bowing.) I do hope you'll repent of all your zins, I do indeed, zur ; and if you should, I'll come and zee you again as friendly as ever- -I wool indeed, zur. CHAPTER CXII. Explanation of the following Scene. Stukely, a noted gamester, by the affistance of other fharpers having ruined Mr. Beverly, by cheating him, not only of his own property, but by the artifice of a letter, wherein Stukely pretends great friendship for Mr. Beverly and his family, he persuades Mr. Beverly to rob his wife of all her jewels, and even to sell the reversion of her uncle's eftate. Stukely not satisfied with the ruin of Mr. Beverly's fortune, plots the dishonour of his family. But Mrs. Beverly, though reduced to extreme want, values her virtue as more precious than all the treasures of the east. She rejects his infamous proposal with a spirit of indignation, becoming a woman of such moral goodness and exalted virtue. STUKELY AND MRS. BEVERLY. Stukely. T O meet you thus alone, madam, was what |