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SUCH THINGS ARE;

A Play, in Five Acts.

As Performed at the
Theatre Royal, Covent Garden.

by

MRS. INCHBALD.

Second Edition.







London:
Printed for G. G. J. and J. ROBINSON, Pater-noster Row.
MDCCLXXXVIII.




ADVERTISEMENT.


The travels of an Englishman throughout Europe, and even in some parts
of Asia, to soften the sorrows of the Prisoner, excited in the mind of
the Author the subject of the following pages, which, formed into a
dramatic story, have produced from the Theatre a profit far exceeding
the usual pecuniary advantages arising from a successful Comedy.

The uncertainty in what part of the East the hero of the present
piece was (at the time it was written) dispensing his benevolence,
caused the Writer, after many researches and objections, to fix the
scene on the island of Sumatra, where the English settlement, the
system of government, and every description of the manners of the
people, reconcile the incidents of the Play to the strictest degree
of probability.




PROLOGUE,

Written by THOMAS VAUGHAN, Esq.

Spoken by Mr. HOLMAN.


  How say you, critic Gods[1], and you below[2];
  Are you all friends?--or here--and there--a foe?
  Come to protect your _literary_ trade,
  Which Mrs. _Scribble_ dares _again_ invade--
  But know you not--_in all_ the fair ones do,
  'Tis not to please themselves alone--but you.
  Then who so churlish, or so cynic grown,
  Would wish to change a _simper_ for a _frown_?
  Or who so jealous of their own _dear_ quill,
  Would point the paragraph her fame to kill?
  Yet such there are, in this all-scribbling town,  }
  And men of letters too--of some renown,           }
  Who sicken at all merit but their own.            }
  But sure 'twere more for Wit's--for Honour's sake,
  To make the Drama's _race_--_the give and take_.
                            [_Looking round the house._
  My hint I see's approv'd--so pray begin it,
  And praise us--_roundly_ for the _good things_ in it,
  Nor let severity our faults expose,
  When godlike Homer's self was known to doze.
    But of the piece--Methinks I hear you hint,
  Some dozen lines or more should give the tint--
  "Tell how _Sir John_ with _Lady Betty_'s maid
  Is caught intriguing at a masquerade;
  Which Lady Betty, in a jealous fit,
  Resents by flirting with _Sir Ben_--the cit.
  Whose _three_-feet spouse, to modish follies bent,
  Mistakes a _six_-feet Valet--for a Gent.
  Whilst Miss, repugnant to her Guardian's plan,
  Elopes in Breeches with her fav'rite man."
  Such are the _hints_ we read in _Roscius'_ days,
  By way of Prologue ushered in _their_ plays.
  But _we_, like Ministers and cautious spies,
  In _secret measures_ think--the merit lies.
  Yet shall the Muse thus far unveil the plot--
  This play was _tragi-comically_ got,
  Those sympathetic sorrows to impart
  Which harmonize the feelings of the heart;
  And may at least this humble merit boast,
  A structure founded on fair _Fancy_'s coast.
  With you it rests that judgement to proclaim,
  Which _in the world_ must raise or sink it's fame.
  Yet ere her judges sign their last report,
  'Tis you [_to the boxes_] must recommend her to the Court;
  Whose smiles, like _Cynthia_, in a winter's night,
  Will cheer our wand'rer with a gleam of light.

 1. Galleries.
 2. Pit.




ACT I.


SCENE, _The Island of Sumatra, in East India_.

CHARACTERS.


   MEN.

  _Sultan_,             Mr. Farren,
  _Lord Flint_,         Mr. Davies,
  _Sir Luke Tremor_,    Mr. Quick,
  _Mr. Twineall_,       Mr. Lewis,
  _Mr. Haswell_,        Mr. Pope,
  _Elvirus_,            Mr. Holman,
  _Mr. Meanright_,      Mr. Macready,
  _Zedan_,              Mr. Fearon,
  _First Keeper_,       Mr. Thompson,
  _Second Keeper_,      Mr. Cubitt,
  _First Prisoner_,     Mr. Helme,
  _Second Prisoner_,    Mr. Gardener.
  _Guard_,              Mr. Blurton,
  _Messenger_,          Mr. Ledger.

   WOMEN.

  _Lady Tremor_,        Mrs. Mattocks,
  _Aurelia_,            Miss Wilkinson,
  _Female Prisoner_,    Mrs. Pope.

  _Time of Representation, Twelve Hours._




SUCH THINGS ARE.

A PLAY.

IN FIVE ACTS.




ACT I.


SCENE I. _A Parlour at Sir_ Luke Tremor'_s_.

_Enter Sir_ Luke, _followed by Lady_ Tremor.


_Sir Luke._ I tell you, Madam, you are two and thirty.

_Lady Tremor._ I tell you, Sir, you are mistaken.

_Sir Luke._ Why, did not you come over from England exactly sixteen
years ago?

_Lady._ Not so long.

_Sir Luke._ Have not we been married the tenth of next April sixteen
years?

_Lady._ Not so long.--

_Sir Luke._ Did you not come over the year of the great Eclipse?
answer me that.

_Lady._ I don't remember it.

_Sir Luke._ But I do--and shall remember it as long as I live--the
first time I saw you, was in the garden of the Dutch Envoy; you were
looking through a glass at the sun--I immediately began to make love
to you, and the whole affair was settled while the eclipse
lasted--just one hour, eleven minutes, and three seconds.

_Lady._ But what is all this to my age?

_Sir Luke._ Because I know you were at that time near seventeen--and
without one qualification except your youth--and not being a Mullatto.

_Lady._ Sir Luke, Sir Luke, this is not to be borne--

_Sir Luke._ Oh! yes--I forgot--you had two letters of recommendation,
from two great families in England.

_Lady._ Letters of recommendation!

_Sir Luke._ Yes; your character----that, you know, is all the fortune
we poor Englishmen, situated in India, expect with a wife who crosses
the sea at the hazard of her life, to make us happy.

_Lady._ And what but our characters would you have us bring? Do you
suppose any lady ever came to India, who brought along with her,
friends, or fortune?

_Sir Luke._ No, my dear--and what is worse--she seldom leaves them
behind, either.

_Lady._ No matter, Sir Luke--but if I delivered to you a good
character----

_Sir Luke._ Yes, my dear you did--and if you were to ask me for it
again, I can't say I could give it you.

_Lady._ How uncivil! how unlike are your manners to the manners of my
Lord Flint.

_Sir Luke._ Ay--you are never so happy as when you have an opportunity
of expressing your admiration of him--a disagreeable, nay, a very
dangerous man--one is never sure of one's self in his presence--he
carries every thing he hears to the ministers of our suspicious
Sultan--and I feel my head shake whenever I am in his company.

_Lady._ How different does his Lordship appear to me--to me he is all
_politesse_.

_Sir Luke._ _Politesse!_ how shou'd you understand what is real
_politesse_? You know your education was very much confined.--

_Lady._ And if it _was_ confined----I beg, Sir Luke, you will one
time or other cease these reflections--you know they are what I can't
bear! [_walks about in a passion._] pray, does not his Lordship
continually assure me, I might be taken for a Countess, were it not
for a certain little groveling toss I have caught with my head--and
a certain little confined hitch in my walk? both which I learnt of
_you_--learnt by looking so much at _you_.--

_Sir Luke._ And now if you don't take care, by looking so much at his
Lordship, you may catch some of his defects.

_Lady._ I know of very few he has.

_Sir Luke._ I know of many--besides those he assumes.--

_Lady._ Assumes!!----

_Sir Luke._ Yes; do you suppose he is as forgetful as he pretends to
be? no, no--but because he is a favourite with the Sultan, and all
our great men at court, he thinks it genteel or convenient to have
no memory--and yet I'll answer for it, he has one of the best in the
universe.

_Lady._ I don't believe your charge.

_Sir Luke._ Why, though he forgets his appointments with his
tradesmen, did you ever hear of his forgetting to go to court when a
place was to be disposed of? Did he ever make a blunder, and send a
bribe to a man out of power? Did he ever forget to kneel before the
Prince of this Island--or to look in his highness's presence like the
statue of Patient-resignation in humble expectation?--

_Lady._ Dear, Sir Luke----

_Sir Luke._ Sent from his own country in his very infancy, and brought
up in the different courts of petty, arbitrary Princes here in Asia;
he is the slave of every great man, and the tyrant of every poor
one.----

_Lady._ "Petty Princes!"--'tis well his highness our Sultan does not
hear you.

_Sir Luke._ 'Tis well he does not--don't you repeat what I say--but
you know how all this fine country is harrassed and laid waste by a
set of Princes, Sultans, as they style themselves, and I know not
what--who are for ever calling out to each other "that's mine," and
"that's mine;"--and "you have no business here"--and "you have no
business there"--and "I have business every where;" [_Strutting_]
then "give _me_ this,"--and "give _me_ that;" and "take this, and
take that." [_makes signs of fighting._]

_Lady._ A very elegant description truly.

_Sir Luke._ Why, you know 'tis all matter of fact--and Lord Flint,
brought up from his youth amongst these people, has not one _trait_ of
an Englishman about him--he has imbibed all this country's cruelty,
and I dare say wou'd mind no more seeing me hung up by my thumbs--or
made to dance upon a red-hot gridiron----

_Lady._ That is one of the tortures I never heard of!--O! I shou'd
like to see that of all things!

_Sir Luke._ Yes--by keeping this man's company, you'll soon be as
cruel as he is--he will teach you every vice--a consequential--grave
--dull--and yet with that degree of levity, that dares to pay his
addresses to a woman, even before her husband's face.

_Lady._ Did not you say, this minute, his Lordship had not a _trait_
of his own country about him?--

_Sir Luke._ Well, well--as you say, that last _is_ a _trait_ of his
own country.

     _Enter_ Servant _and_ Lord Flint.


_Serv._ Lord Flint.--[_Exit_ Servant.

_Lady._ My Lord, I am extremely glad to see you--we were just
mentioning your name.--

_Lord._ Were you, indeed, Madam? You do me great honour.

_Sir Luke._ No, my Lord--no great honour.

_Lord._ Pardon me, Sir Luke.

_Sir Luke._ But, I assure you, my Lord, what I said, did _myself_ a
great deal of honour.

_Lady._ Yes, my Lord, and I'll acquaint your Lordship what it was.
[_going up to him._

_Sir Luke._ [_Pulling her aside_] Why, you wou'd not inform against me
sure! Do you know what would be the consequence? My head must answer
it. [_frightened._]

_Lord._ Nay, Sir Luke, I insist upon knowing.

_Sir Luke._ [_To her_] Hush--hush----no, my Lord, pray excuse
me--your Lordship perhaps may think what I said did not come from my
heart; and I assure you, upon my honour, it did.

_Lady._ O, yes--that I am sure it did.

_Lord._ I am extremely obliged to you. [_bowing._

_Sir Luke._ O, no, my Lord, not at all--not at all.--[_aside to
her._] I'll be extremely obliged to _you_, if you will hold your
tongue--Pray, my Lord, are you engaged out to dinner to-day? for her
Ladyship and I dine out.

_Lady._ Yes, my Lord, and we should be happy to find your Lordship of
the party.

_Lord._ "Engaged out to dinner"?--egad very likely--very likely--but
if I am--I have positively forgotten where.

_Lady._ We are going to----

_Lord._ No--I think (now you put me in mind of it) I think I have
company to dine with me--I am either going out to dinner, or have
company to dine with me; but I really can't tell which--however, my
people know----but I can't call to mind.--

_Sir Luke._ Perhaps your Lordship _has_ dined; can you recollect that?

_Lord._ No, no--I have not dined----what's o'clock?

_Lady._ Perhaps, my Lord, you have not breakfasted.

_Lord._ O, yes, I've breakfasted--I think so--but upon my word these
things are very hard to remember.

_Sir Luke._ They are indeed, my Lord--and I wish all my family wou'd
entirely forget them.

_Lord._ What did your Ladyship say was o'clock?

_Lady._ Exactly twelve, my Lord.

_Lord._ Bless me! I ought to have been some where else then--an
absolute engagement.--I have broke my word--a positive appointment.

_Lady._ Shall I send a servant?

_Lord._ No, no, no, no--by no means--it can't be helped now--and they
know my unfortunate failing--besides, I'll beg their pardon, and I
trust that will be ample satisfaction.

_Lady._ You are very good, my Lord, not to leave us.

_Lord._ I cou'd not think of leaving you so soon, Madam--the happiness
I enjoy here is _such_--

_Sir Luke._ And very likely were your Lordship to go away now, you
might never recollect to come again.

     _Enter_ Servant.

_Serv._ A Gentleman, Sir, just come from on board an English vessel,
says, he has letters to present to you.

_Sir Luke._ Shew him in--[_Exit_ Servant.] _He_ has brought his
character too, I suppose--and left it _behind_, too, I suppose.

     _Enter Mr._ Twineall, _in a fashionable undress_.

_Twi._ Sir Luke, I have the honour of presenting to you, [_Gives
letters_] one from my Lord Cleland--one from Sir Thomas Shoestring
--one from Colonel Fril.

_Sir Luke._ [_Aside_] Who in the name of wonder have my friends
recommended?--[_reads while Lord_ Flint _and the Lady talk apart_]
No--as I live, he is a gentleman, and the son of a Lord--[_going to
Lady_ Tremor.] My dear, that is a gentleman, notwithstanding his
appearance--don't laugh--but let me introduce you to him.

_Lady._ A gentleman! certainly--I did not look at him before--but now
I can perceive it.

_Sir Luke._ Mr. Twineall, give me leave to introduce Lady Tremor to
you, and my Lord Flint--this, my Lord, is the Honourable Mr. Twineall
from England, who will do me the favour to remain in my house, till
he is settled to his mind in some post here. [_They bow._] I beg your
pardon, Sir, for the somewhat cool reception Lady Tremor and I gave
you at first--but I dare say her Ladyship was under the same mistake
as myself--and I must own I took you at first sight for something very
different from the person you prove to be--for really no English ships
have arrived in this harbour for these five years past, and the dress
of us English gentlemen is so much altered since that time--

_Twi._ But, I hope, Sir Luke, if it is, the alteration meets with your
approbation.

_Lady._ O! to be sure--it is extremely elegant and becoming.

_Sir Luke._ Yes, my dear, I don't doubt but you think so; for I
remember you used to make your favourite monkey wear just such a
jacket, when he went out a visiting.

_Twin._ Was he your favourite, Madam?--Sir, you are very obliging.
[_Bowing to Sir Luke._]

_Sir Luke._ My Lord, if it were possible for your Lordship to call to
your _remembrance_ such a trifle--

_Lady._ Dear Sir Luke----[_Pulling him._

_Lord._ Egad, I believe I do call to my remembrance--[_Gravely
considering._]--Not, I assure you, Sir, that I perceive any great
resemblance--or, if it was so--I dare say it is merely in the
dress----which I must own strikes me as most ridiculous--very
ridiculous indeed.----

_Twi._ My Lord!

_Lord._ I beg pardon, if I have said any thing that----Lady Tremor,
what did I say?----make my apology, if I have said any thing
improper--you know my unhappy failing. [_Goes up the stage._

_Lady._ [_to Twineall._] Sir, his Lordship has made a mistake in the
word "ridiculous," which I am sure he did not mean to say--but he is
apt to make use of one word for another--his Lordship has been so long
out of England, that he may be said in some measure to have forgotten
his native language.

     [_His Lordship all this time appears consequentially absent._

_Twi._ And you have perfectly explained, Madam--indeed I ought to
have been convinced, without your explanation, that if his Lordship
made use of the word _ridiculous_ (even intentionally) that the word
had now changed its former sense, and was become a mode to express
satisfaction--or his Lordship wou'd not have made use of it in the
very forcible manner he did, to a perfect stranger.

_Sir Luke._ What, Mr. Twineall, have you new modes, new fashions for
_words_ too in England, as well as for dresses?--and are you equally
extravagant in their adoption?

_Lady._ I never heard, Sir Luke, but that the fashion of words varied,
as well as the fashion of every thing else.

_Twi._ But what is most extraordinary--we have now a fashion in
England, of speaking without any words at all.

_Lady._ Pray, Sir, how is that?

_Sir Luke._ Ay, do, Mr. Twineall, teach my wife, and I shall be very
much obliged to you--it will be a great accomplishment. Even you, my
Lord, ought to be attentive to this fashion.

_Twi._ Why, Madam, for instance, when a gentleman is asked a question
which is either troublesome or improper to answer, you don't say you
_won't_ answer it, even though you speak to an inferior----but you
say----"really it appears to me e-e-e-e-e--[_mutters and shrugs_]--that
is--mo-mo-mo-mo-mo--[_mutters_]--if you see the thing--for my part
----te-te-te-te----and that's all I can tell about it at _present_."

_Sir Luke._ And you have told nothing!

_Twi._ Nothing upon earth.

_Lady._ But mayn't one guess what you mean?

_Twi._ O, yes--perfectly at liberty to guess.

_Sir Luke._ Well, I'll be shot if I _could_ guess.

_Twi._ And again--when an impertinent pedant asks you a question that
you know nothing about, and it may not be convenient to say so--you
answer _boldly_, "why really, Sir, my opinion _is_, that the Greek
poet--he-he-he-he--[_mutters_]--we-we-we-we--you see--if his idea
was--and if the Latin translator--mis-mis-mis-mis--[_shrugs_]----that
I shou'd think--in my humble opinion--but the Doctor _may_ know
better than I."----

_Sir Luke._ The Doctor must know very little else.

_Twi._ Or in case of a duel, where one does not care to say who was
right, or who was wrong--you answer--"_This_, Sir, is the state of the
matter--Mr. F-- came first--te-te-te-te--on that--be-be-be-be--if the
other--in short--[_whispers_]--whis-whis-whis-whis"----

_Sir Luke._ What?

_Twi._ "There, now you have it--there 'tis--but don't say a word about
it--or, if you do--don't say it come from me."--

_Lady._ Why, you have not told a word of the story!

_Twi._ But that your auditor must not say to you--that's not the
fashion--he never tells you that--he may say--"You have not made
yourself _perfectly_ clear;"--or he may say--"He must have the matter
_more particularly_ pointed out somewhere else;"--but that is all the
auditor can say with good breeding.

_Lady._ A very pretty method indeed to satisfy one's curiosity!

     _Enter_ Servant.

_Serv._ Mr. Haswell.

_Sir Luke._ This is a countryman of ours, Mr. Twineall, and a very
good man I assure you.

     _Enter_ Mr. Haswell.

_Sir Luke._ Mr. Haswell, how do you do?

[_Warmly._

_Has._ Sir Luke, I am glad to see you.----Lady Tremor, how do you do?
[_He bows to the rest._

_Lady._ O, Mr. Haswell, I am extremely glad you are come--here is a
young adventurer just arrived from England, who has been giving us
such a strange account of all that's going on there. [_Introducing
Twineall._

_Has._ Sir, you are welcome to India. [_Sir Luke whispers Haswell._
Indeed!--_his_ son.

_Lady._ Do, Mr. Haswell, talk to him--he can give you great
information.

_Has._ I am glad of it--I shall then hear many things I am impatient
to become acquainted with. [_Goes up to Twineall._] Mr. Twineall, I
have the honour of knowing his Lordship, your father, extremely
well--he holds his seat in Parliament still, I presume?

_Twi._ He does, Sir.

_Has._ And your uncle, Sir Charles?

_Twi._ Both, Sir--both in Parliament still.

_Has._ Pray, Sir, has any act in behalf of the poor clergy taken place
yet?

_Twi._ In behalf of the poor clergy, Sir?--I'll tell you--I'll tell
you, Sir.----As to that act--concerning--[_shrugs and mutters_]
--em-em-em-em--the Committee--em-em--ways and means--hee-hee--I
assure you, Sir--te-te-te--[_Sir Luke, Lady, and Lord Flint laugh._

My father and my uncle both think so, I assure you.

_Has._ Think _how_, Sir?

_Sir Luke._ Nay, that's not good breeding--you must ask no more
questions.

_Has._ Why not?

_Sir Luke._ Because--we-we-we-we--[_mimicks_]--he knows nothing about
it.

_Has._ What, Sir--not know?

_Twi._ Yes, Sir, perfectly acquainted with every thing that passes in
the house--but I assure you, that when they come to be reported----
but, Sir Luke, now permit me, in my turn, to make a few inquiries
concerning the state of this country.

     [_Sir Luke starts, and fixes his eyes suspiciously on Lord Flint._

_Sir Luke._ Why, one does not like to speak much about the country one
lives in--but, Mr. Haswell, you have been visiting our encampments;
_you_ may tell us what is going on there.

_Lady._ Pray, Mr. Haswell, is it true that the Sultan cut off the head
of one of his wives the other day because she said "I won't?"

_Sir Luke._ Do, my dear, be silent.

_Lady._ I won't.

_Sir Luke._ O, that the Sultan had you instead of me!

_Lady._ And with my head off, I suppose?

_Sir Luke._ No, my dear; in that state, I shou'd have no objection to
you myself.

_Lady._ [_Aside to Sir Luke._] Now, I'll frighten you ten times
more.--But, Mr. Haswell, I am told there are many persons suspected of
disaffection to the present Sultan, who have been lately, by his
orders, arrested, and sold to slavery, notwithstanding there was no
proof against them produced.

_Has._ Proof!----in a State such as this, the charge is quite
sufficient.

_Sir Luke._ [_In apparent agonies, wishing to turn the discourse._]
Well, my Lord, and how does your Lordship find yourself this
afternoon?--this morning, I mean--Bless my soul! why I begin to be
as forgetful as your Lordship. [_Smiling and fawning._

_Lady._ How I pity the poor creatures!

_Sir Luke._ [_Aside to Lady._] Take care what you say before that tool
of state--look at him, and tremble for your head.

_Lady._ Look at him, and tremble for _yours_--and so, Mr. Haswell, all
this is true?--and some people, of consequence too, I am told, dragged
from their homes, and sent to slavery merely on suspicion?

_Has._ Yet, less do I pity those, than some, whom prisons and dungeons
crammed before, are yet prepared to receive.

_Lord._ Mr. Haswell, such is the Sultan's pleasure.

_Sir Luke._ Will your Lordship take a turn in the garden? it looks
from this door very pleasant;--does not it?

_Lady._ But pray, Mr. Haswell, has not the Sultan sent for you to
attend at his palace this morning?

_Has._ He has, Madam.

_Lady._ There! I heard he had, but Sir Luke said not.--I am told he
thinks himself under the greatest obligations to you.

_Has._ The report has flattered me--but if his highness _shou'd_ think
himself under obligations, I can readily point a way, by which he may
acquit himself of them.

_Lady._ In the mean time, I am sure, you feel for those poor
sufferers.

_Has._ [_With stifled emotion._] Sir Luke, good morning to you--I
call'd upon some trifling business, but I have out-staid my time,
and therefore I'll call again in a couple of hours--Lady Tremor,
good morning--my Lord--Mr. Twineall--[_Bows, and exit._

_Twi._ Sir Luke, your garden _does_ look so divinely beautiful--

_Sir Luke._ Come, my Lord, will you take a turn in it? Come Mr.
Twineall--come my dear--[_taking her hand._] I can't think what
business Mr. Haswell has to speak to me upon--for my part, I am
quite a plain man--and busy myself about no one's affairs, except
my own--but I dare say your Lordship has forgot all we have been
talking about.

_Lord._ If you permit me, Sir Luke, I'll hand the Lady.

_Sir Luke._ Certainly, my Lord, if you please--come, Mr. Twineall, and
I'll conduct you. [_Exeunt._

END OF THE FIRST ACT.




ACT II.


SCENE I. _An Apartment at Sir_ Luke Tremor'_s_.

_Enter_ Twineall _and_ Meanright.


_Twi._ My dear friend, after so long a separation, how glad I am to
meet you!--but how devilish unlucky that you shou'd, on the very day
of my arrival, be going to set sail for another part of the world! yet
before you go, I must beg a favour of you--you know Sir Luke and his
family perfectly well, I dare say?

_Mean._ I think so--I have been in his house near six years.

_Twi._ The very person on earth I wanted!--Sir Luke has power here,
I suppose?--a word from him might do a man some service perhaps?
[_significantly._

_Mean._ Why, yes; I don't know a man that has more influence at a
certain place.

_Twin._ And her Ladyship seems a very clever gentlewoman?

_Mean._ Very.

_Twi._ And I have a notion they think _me_ very clever.

_Mean._ I dare say they do.

_Twi._ Yes--but I mean _very_ clever.

_Mean._ No doubt!

_Twi._ But, my dear friend, you must help me to make them think better
of me still--and when _my_ fortune is made, I'll make _yours_--for
when I once become acquainted with people's dispositions, their little
weaknesses, foibles and faults, I can wind, twist, twine, and get into
the corner of every one's heart, and lie so snug, they can't know I'm
there, till they want to pull me out, and find 'tis impossible.

_Mean._ Excellent talent!

_Twi._ Is not it? and now, my dear friend, do you inform me of the
secret dispositions, and propensities of every one in this family,
and of all their connections.--What Lady values herself upon one
qualification, and what Lady upon another?--What Gentleman will like
to be told of his accomplishments? or what man would rather hear
of his wife's, or his daughter's?--or of his horses? or of his
dogs?--now, my dear Ned, acquaint me with all this--and within a
fortnight I will become the most necessary rascal----not a creature
shall know how to exist without me.

_Mean._ Why such a man as you ought to have made your fortune in
England.

_Twi._ No--my father, and my three uncles monopolized all the great
men themselves; and wou'd never introduce me where I was likely to
become their rival--This--this is the very spot for me to display
my genius--But then I must penetrate the people first--and you will
kindly save me that trouble.--Come, give me all their characters--all
their little propensities--all their whims--in short, all I am to
praise--and all I am to avoid praising,--in order to endear myself to
them. [_Takes out tablets._] Come--begin with Sir Luke.

_Mean._ Sir Luke--values himself more upon personal bravery, than upon
any thing else.

_Twi._ Thank you, my dear friend--thank you. [_Writes._] Was he ever
in the army?

_Mean._ Oh yes--besieged a capital fortress, a few years ago--and
now, the very name of a battle or a great general tickles his vanity,
and he takes all the praises you can lavish upon the subject as
compliments to himself.

_Twi._ Thank you--thank you a thousand times--[_Writes._] I'll mention
a battle very soon.

_Mean._ Not directly.

_Twi._ O, no--let me alone for time and place--go on, my friend--go
on--her Ladyship--

_Mean._ Descended from the ancient kings of Scotland.

_Twi._ You don't say so!

_Mean._ And though she is so nicely scrupulous as never to mention the
word genealogy, yet I have seen her agitation so great, when the
advantages of high birth have been extoll'd, she could scarcely
withhold her sentiments of triumph; which in order to disguise, she
has assumed a disdain for all "vain titles--empty sounds--and idle
pomp."

_Twi._ Thank you--thank you--this is a most excellent _trait_ of the
Lady's--[_Writes._] "Pedigree of the kings of Scotland?" O, I have her
at once.

_Mean._ Yet do it nicely--oblique touches, rather than open explanations.

_Twi._ Let me alone for that.

_Mean._ She has, I know, in her possession--but I dare say she wou'd
not show it you, nay, on the contrary, would even _affect_ to be
highly offended, if you were to mention it--and yet it certainly would
flatter her, to know you were acquainted with her having it.

_Twi._ What--what--what is it?

_Mean._ A large old-fashioned wig--which Malcolm the third or fourth,
her great ancestor, wore when he was crowned at Scone, in the year----

_Twi._ I'll mention it.

_Mean._ Take care.

_Twi._ O, let me alone for the _manner_.

_Mean._ She'll pretend to be angry.

_Twi._ That I am prepared for.--Pray who is my Lord Flint?

_Mean._ A deep man--and a great favourite at court.

_Twi._ Indeed!--how am I to please him?

_Mean._ By insinuations against the _present_ Sultan.

_Twi._ How!

_Mean._ With all his pretended attachment, his heart----

_Twi._ Are you _sure_ of it?

_Mean._ Sure:--he blinds Sir Luke, (who by the bye is no great
politician) but I know his Lordship--and if he thought he was sure of
his ground--(and he thinks he _shall_ be sure of it soon)--then--

_Twi._ I'll insinuate myself and join his party--but, in the mean
time, preserve good terms with Sir Luke, in case any thing shou'd fall
in my way there.--Who is Mr. Haswell?

_Mean._ He pretends to be a man of principle and sentiment--flatter
him on that.

_Twi._ The easiest thing in the world--no people like flattery
better than such as he.--They will bear even to hear their _vices_
praised.--I will myself undertake to praise the vices of a man of
sentiment till he shall think them so many virtues.--You have
mentioned no Ladies, but the Lady of the house yet.

_Mean._ There is no other Lady, except a pretty girl who came over
from England, about two years ago, for a husband, and not succeeding
in another part of the country, is now recommended to this house--and
has been here three or four months.

_Twi._ Let me alone, to please her.

_Mean._ Yes--I believe you are skilled.

_Twi._ For the art of flattery, no one more.

_Mean._ But damn it--it is not a liberal art.

_Twi._ It is a great science, notwithstanding--and studied, at
present, by all the connoisseurs.--Zounds! I have staid a long time--I
can't attend to any more characters at present--Sir Luke and his Lady
will think me inattentive, if I don't join them--Shall I see you
again?--if not--I wish you a pleasant voyage--I'll make the most
of what you have told me--you'll hear I'm a great man--God bless
you!--good bye!--you'll hear I'm a great man. [_Exit._

_Mean._ And, if I am not mistaken, I shall hear you are turned out of
the house before to-morrow morning. O, Twineall! exactly the _reverse_
of every character have you now before you--the greatest misfortune in
the life of Sir Luke has been, flying from his army in the midst of an
engagement, and a most humiliating degradation in consequence, which
makes him so feelingly alive on the subject of a battle, that nothing
but his want of courage can secure my friend Twineall's life for
venturing to name the subject--then Lord Flint, firmly _attached_ to
the _interest_ of the Sultan, will be all on fire, when he hears of
open disaffection--but most of all her Ladyship! whose father was
a grocer, and uncle, a noted advertising "Periwig-maker on a new
construction." She will run mad to hear of births, titles, and long
pedigrees.--Poor Twineall! little dost thou think what is prepared
for thee.--There is Mr. Haswell too--but to him have I sent you to be
reclaimed--to him,--who, free from faults, or even foibles, of his
own, has yet more potently the blessing given, of tenderness for ours.
[_Exit._


SCENE II. _The inside of a Prison._

_Several Prisoners dispersed in different situations._

_Enter_ Keeper _and_ Haswell _with lights_.


_Keep._ This way, Sir--the prisons this way are more extensive
still--you seem to feel for these unthinking men--but they are a set
of unruly people, whom no severity can make such as they ought to be.

_Has._ And wou'd not gentleness, or mercy, do you think, reclaim them?

_Keep._ That I can't say--we never try those means in this part of the
world--that man yonder, suspected of disaffection, is sentenced to be
here for life, unless his friends can lay down a large sum by way of
penalty, which he finds they cannot do, and he is turned melancholy.

_Has._ [_After a pause._] Who is that? [_To another._

_Keep._ He has been try'd for heading an insurrection, and acquitted.

_Has._ What keeps him here?

_Keep._ Fees due to the Court--a debt contracted while he proved his
innocence.

_Has._ Lead on, my friend--let us go to some other part. [_Putting his
hand to his eyes._

_Keep._ In this ward, we are going to, are the prisoners, who by some
small reserve--some little secreted stock when they arrived--or by
the bounty of some friend who visit them----or suchlike fortunate
circumstance, are in a less dismal place.

_Has._ Lead on.

_Keep._ But stop--put on this cloak, for, before we arrive at the
place I mention, we must pass a damp vault, which to those who are not
used to it--[Haswell _puts on the cloak_]--or will you postpone your
visit?

_Has._ No--go on.

_Keep._ Alas! who wou'd suppose you had been used to see such
places!--you look concerned--vext to see the people suffer--I wonder
you shou'd come, when you seem to think so much about them.

_Has._ Oh! that, that is the very reason. [_Exit, following the Keeper._

     [Zedan, _a tawny Indian Prisoner, follows them, stealing
     out, as if intent on something_.]

     _Two Prisoners walk slowly down the stage._

_1st Pris._ Who is this man?

_2d Pris._ From Britain--I have seen him once before.

_1st Pris._ He looks pale--he has no heart.

_2d Pris._ I believe, a pretty large one.

     _Re-enter_ Zedan.

_Zed._ Brother, a word with you. [_To the 1st Prisoner, the other
retires._] As the stranger and our keeper passed by the passage, a
noxious vapour put out the light, and as they groped along I purloined
_this_ from the stranger--[_Shews a pocket-book_] see it contains two
notes will pay our ransom. [_Shewing the notes._

_1st Pris._ A treasure--our certain ransom!

_Zed._ Liberty! our wives, our children, and our friends, will these
papers purchase.

_1st Pris._ What a bribe! our keeper may rejoice too.

_Zed._ And then the pleasure it will be to hear the stranger fret, and
complain for his loss!--O, how my heart loves to see sorrow!--Misery
such as I have known, on men who spurn me--who treat me as if (in my
own Island) I had no friends that loved me--no servants that paid me
honour--no children that revered me--who forget I am a husband--a
father--nay, a _man_.--

_1st Pris._ Conceal your thoughts--conceal your treasure too--or the
Briton's complaint--

_Zed._ Will be in vain--our keeper will conclude the bribe must come
to him, at last--and therefore make no great search for it--here,
in the corner of my belt [_Puts up the pocket-book_] 'twill be
secure--Come this way, and let us indulge our pleasant prospect.
[_They retire, and the scene closes._


SCENE III. _Another part of the Prison._

_A kind of sopha with an old man sleeping upon it_--Elvirus _sitting
attentively by him_.

_Enter_ Keeper _and_ Haswell.


_Keep._ That young man, you see there, watching his aged father as he
sleeps, by the help of fees gains his admission--and he never quits
the place, except to go and purchase cordials for the old man, who,
(though healthy and strong when he first became a prisoner) is now
become ill and languid.

_Has._ Are they from Europe?

_Keep._ No--but descended from Europeans--see how the youth holds his
father's hand!--I have sometimes caught him bathing it with tears.

_Has._ I'll speak to the young man. [_Going to him._

_Keep._ He will speak as soon as he sees me--he has sent a petition to
the Sultan about his father, and never fails to inquire if a reply is
come. [_They approach_--Elvirus _starts, and comes forward_]

_Elv._ [_To_ Haswell] Sir, do you come from the Court? has the Sultan
received my humble supplication? Can you tell?--softly--let not my
father hear you speak.

_Has._ I come but as a stranger, to see the prison.

_Elv._ No answer yet, keeper?

_Keep._ No--I told you it was in vain to write--they never read
petitions sent from prisons--their hearts are hardened to such
worn-out tales of sorrow. [Elvirus _turns towards his Father and
weeps_.

_Has._ Pardon me, Sir--but what is the request you are thus denied?

_Elv._ Behold my father! but three months has he been confined here;
and yet--unless he breathes a purer air--O, if _you_ have influence at
Court, Sir, pray represent what passes in this dreary prison--what
passes in my heart.----My supplication is to remain a prisoner
here, while my father, released, shall be permitted to retire to
humble life; and never more take arms in a cause the Sultan may
suspect--which engagement broken, _my life_ shall be the forfeit.--Or
if the Sultan wou'd allow me to serve him as a soldier--

_Has._ You would fight against the party your father fought for?

_Elv._ [_Starting._] No--but in the forests--or on the desert
sands--amongst those slaves who are sent to battle with the wild
Indians--there I wou'd go--and earn the boon I ask----or in the
mines--

_Has._ Give me your name--I will, at least, present your suit--and,
perhaps--

_Elv._ Sir! do you think it is likely? Joyful hearing!

_Has._ Nay, be not too hasty in your hopes--I cannot _answer_ for my
success. [_Repeats_] "Your father humbly implores to be released from
prison--and, in his stead, _you_ take his chains--or, for the Sultan's
service, fight as a slave, or dig in his mines?"

_Elv._ Exactly, Sir--that is the petition--I thank you, Sir.

_Keep._ You don't know, young man, what it _is_ to dig in mines--or
fight against foes, who make their prisoners die by unheard-of
tortures.

_Elv._ _You_ do not know, Sir, what it _is_,--to see a parent suffer.

_Has._ [_Writing_] Your name, Sir?

_Elv._ Elvirus Casimir.--

_Has._ Your father's?

_Elv._ The same--one who followed agriculture in the fields of
Symria--but, induced by the call of freedom--

_Has._ How? have a care.

_Elv._ No--his son, by the call of nature, supplicates his freedom.

_Keep._ The rebel, you find, breaks out.

_Elv._ [_Aside to the Keeper._] Silence--silence! he forgives it--don't
remind him of it--don't undo my hopes.

_Has._ I will serve you if I can.

_Elv._ And I will merit it--indeed I will--you shall not complain of
me--I will be--

_Has._ Retire--I trust you. [Elvirus _bows lowly, and retires_.]

_Keep._ Yonder cell contains a female prisoner.

_Has._ A female prisoner!

_Keep._ Without a friend or comforter, she has existed there these
many years--nearly fifteen.

_Has._ Is it possible!

_Keep._ Wou'd you wish to see her?

_Has._ If it won't give her pain.

_Keep._ At least, she'll not resent it--for she seldom complains,
except in moans to herself--[_Goes to the cell._] Lady, here is one
come to visit all the prisoners--please to appear before him.

_Has._ I thank you--you speak with reverence and respect to her.

_Keep._ She has been of some note, though now so totally unfriended--at
least, we _think_ she has, from her gentle manners; and our governor
is in the daily expectation of some liberal ransom for her, which
makes her imprisonment without a hope of release, till that day
arrives--[_Going to the cell_]--Lend me your hand--you are weak. [_He
leads her from the cell--she appears faint--and as if the light
affected her eyes_--Haswell _pulls off his hat, and, after a pause_--

_Has._ I fear you are not in health, Lady?----

     [_She looks at him solemnly for some time._

_Keep._ Speak--Madam, speak.

_Pris._ No--not very well. [_Faintingly._

_Has._ Where are your friends? When do you expect your ransom?

_Pris._ [_Shaking her head._] Never.

_Keep._ She persists to say so; thinking by that declaration, we shall
release her _without_ a ransom.

_Has._ Is that your motive?

_Pris._ I know no motive for a falsehood.

_Has._ I was to blame--pardon me.

_Keep._ Your answers are somewhat prouder than usual.

     [_He retires up the stage._

_Pris._ They are.--[_To_ Haswell] Forgive me--I am mild with all of
these--but from a countenance like yours--I could not bear reproach.

_Has._ You flatter me.

_Pris._ Alas! Sir, and what have I to hope from such a meaness?--You
do not come to ransom me.

_Has._ Perhaps I do.

_Pris._ Oh! do not say so--unless--unless--I am not to be deceived
--pardon in your turn this suspicion--but when I have so much to
hope for--when the sun, the air, fields, woods, and all that wonderous
world, wherein I have been so happy, is in prospect; forgive me, if
the vast hope makes me fear.

_Has._ Unless your ransom is fixed at something beyond my power to
give, I _will_ release you.

_Pris._ Release me! Benevolent!

_Has._ How shall I mark you down in my petition? [_Takes out his
book._] what name?

_Pris._ 'Tis almost blotted from my memory. [_Weeping._

_Keep._ It is of little note--a female prisoner, taken with the rebel
party, and in these cells confined for fifteen years.

_Pris._ During which time I have demeaned myself with all humility to
my governors--neither have I distracted my fellow prisoners with a
complaint that might recall to their memory their own unhappy fate--I
have been obedient, patient; and cherished hope to chear me with vain
dreams, while despair possess'd my reason.

_Has._ Retire--I will present the picture you have given.

_Pris._ Succeed too--or, never let me see you more--[_She goes up the
stage._

_Has._ You never shall.

_Pris._ [_Returns_] Or, if you shou'd miscarry in your views [for who
forms plans that do not sometimes fail?] I will not reproach you even
to _myself_----no--nor will I suffer _much_ from the disappointment
--merely that you may not have, what I suffer, to account for.
[_Exit to her cell._

_Has._ Excellent mind!

_Keep._ In this cell--[_Going to another._

_Has._ No--take me away--I have enough to do--I dare not see more at
present.--[_Exeunt._


SCENE IV. _The former Prison Scene._

_Enter_ Zedan.


_Zed._ They are coming--I'll stand here in his sight, that, shou'd he
miss what I have taken, he'll not suspect me, but suppose it is one
who has hid himself.

     _Enter_ Keeper _and_ Haswell.

_Keep._ [_To_ Zedan] What makes you here?--still moping by yourself,
and lamenting for your family?--[_To_ Haswell] that man, the most
ferocious I ever met with--laments, sometimes even with tears, the
separation from his wife and children.

_Has._ [_Going to him_] I am sorry for you, friend; [Zedan _looks
sullen and morose_.] I pity you.

_Keep._ Yes--he had a pleasant hamlet on the neighbouring island--plenty
of fruits--clear springs--and wholesome roots--and now complains
bitterly of his repasts--sour rice, and muddy water. [_Exit Keeper._

_Has._ Poor man! bear your sorrows nobly--and as we are alone--no
miserable eye to grudge the favour--[_Looking round_] take this
trifle--[_Gives money_] it will at least make your meals better for a
few short weeks--till Heaven may please to favour you with a less
sharp remembrance of the happiness you have lost--Farewell. [_Going._]
[Zedan _catches hold of him, and taking the pocket-book from his belt,
puts it into_ Haswell'_s hand_.]

_Has._ What's this?

_Zed._ I meant to gain my liberty with it--but I will not vex you.

_Has._ How came you by it?

_Zed._ Stole it--and wou'd have stabb'd you too, had you been
alone--but I am glad I did not--Oh! I am glad I did not.

_Has._ You like me then?

_Zed._ [_Shakes his head and holds his heart._] 'Tis something that I
never felt before--it makes me like not only you, but all the world
besides--the love of my family was confined to them alone; but this
makes me feel I could love even my enemies.

_Has._ Oh, nature! grateful! mild! gentle! and forgiving!--worst of
tyrants they who, by hard usage, drive you to be cruel!

     _Enter_ Keeper.

_Keep._ The lights are ready, Sir, through the dark passage--
[_To_ Zedan.] Go to your fellows.

_Has._ [_To_ Zedan.] Farewell--we will meet again.

     [Zedan _exit on one side_, Haswell _and_ Keeper _exeunt on
     the other_.

END OF THE SECOND ACT.




ACT III.


SCENE I. _An Apartment at Sir_ Luke Tremor'_s_.

_Enter Sir_ Luke _and_ Aurelia.


_Sir Luke._ Why, then Aurelia, (though I never mention'd it to my
Lady Tremor) my friend wrote me word, he had reason to suppose your
affections were improperly fixed upon a young gentleman in that
neighbourhood; and this was his reason for wishing you to leave that
place to come hither--and this continual dejection convinces me my
friend was not mistaken--answer me--can you say he was?

_Aur._ Why, then, Sir Luke, candidly to confess--

_Sir Luke._ Nay, no tears--why in tears? for a husband? be comforted
--we'll get you one ere long, I warrant.

_Aur._ Dear, Sir Luke, how can you imagine I am in tears because I
have not a husband, while you see Lady Tremor every day in tears for
the very opposite cause?

_Sir Luke._ No matter--women like a husband through pride--and I have
known a woman marry from that very motive, even a man she has been
ashamed of.

_Aur._ Why, then I dare say, poor Lady Tremor married from pride.

_Sir Luke._ Yes;--and I'll let her know pride is painful.

_Aur._ But, Sir, her Ladyship's philosophy--

_Sir Luke._ She has no philosophy.

     _Enter Lady_ Tremor _and_ Twineall.

_Sir Luke._ Where is his Lordship? What have you done with him?

_Lady._ He's speaking a word to Mr. Meanright about his passport
to England.--Did you mean me, Sir Luke, that had no philosophy? I
protest, I have a great deal.

_Sir Luke._ When? where did you shew it?

_Lady._ Why, when the servant at my Lady Grissel's threw a whole urn
of boiling water upon your legs, did I give any proofs of female
weakness? did I faint, scream, or even shed a tear?

_Sir Luke._ No--no--very true--and while I lay sprawling on the
carpet, I could see you fanning and holding the smelling bottle to the
Lady of the house, begging her not to make herself uneasy, "for that
the accident was of no manner of consequence."

_Aur._ Dear Sir, don't be angry;--I am sure her Ladyship spoke as she
thought.

_Sir Luke._ I suppose she did, Miss.

_Aur._ I mean--she thought the accident might be easily got the better
of--She thought you might be easily recovered.

_Lady._ No, indeed, I did not--but I thought Sir Luke had frequently
charged me with the want of patience; and that moment, the very thing
in the world I cou'd have wished, happened--on purpose to give me an
opportunity to prove his accusation false.

_Sir Luke._ Very well, Madam--but did not the whole company cry shame
on your behaviour? did not they say, it was not the conduct of a wife?

_Lady._ Only our particular acquaintance cou'd say so--for the rest of
the company, I am sure, did not take me to be your wife--thank Heaven,
our appearances never betray that secret--do you think we look like
the same flesh and blood?

_Sir Luke._ That day, in particular, we did not--for I remember you
had been no less than three hours at your toilet.

_Aur._ And, indeed, Sir Luke, if you were to use milk of roses, and
several other little things of that kind, you can't think how much
more like a fine gentleman you wou'd look.--Such things as those make,
almost, all the difference there is between you and such a gentleman
as Mr. Twineall.

_Twi._ No, pardon me, Madam--a face like _mine_ may use those
things--but in Sir Luke's, they wou'd entirely destroy that fine
martial appearance--[_Sir_ Luke _looks confounded_.] which women as
well as men admire--for, as valour is the first ornament of _our_
sex----

_Lady._ What are you saying, Mr. Twineall? [_Aside._] I'll keep him on
this subject if I can.

_Twi._ I was going to observe, Madam--that the reputation of a
General--which puts me in mind, Sir Luke, of an account I read of a
battle--[_He crosses over to Sir_ Luke, _who turns up the Stage in the
utmost confusion, and steals out of the room_.]

_Lady._ Well, Sir--go on--go on--you were going to introduce--

_Twi._ A battle, Madam--but, Sir Luke is gone!

_Lady._ Never mind that, Sir--he generally runs away on these
occasions.

_Sir Luke._ [_Coming back._] What were you saying, Aurelia, about a
husband?

_Lady._ She did not speak.

_Sir Luke._ To be sure, Ladies in India do get husbands very quick.

_Twi._ Not always--I am told, Sir Luke----Women of family, [_fixing
his eyes stedfastly on Lady_ Tremor.] indeed, may soon enter into the
matrimonial state--but the rich men in India, we are told in England,
are grown lately very particular with whom they marry, and there is
not a man of any repute that will now look upon a woman as a wife,
unless she is descended from a good family. [_Looking at Lady_ Tremor,
_who walks up the Stage and steals off, just as Sir_ Luke _had done
before_.

_Sir Luke._ I am very sorry--very sorry to say, Mr. Twineall, that has
not been always the case.

_Twi._ Then I am very sorry too, Sir Luke; for it is as much
impossible that a woman, who is not born of a good family, can be--
[_Lady_ Tremor _returns_.

_Sir Luke._ That is just what I say--they _cannot_ be--

_Lady._ Sir Luke, let me tell you--

_Sir Luke._ It does not signify _telling_, my dear,--you have _proved_
it.

_Lady._ [_To_ Twineall.] Sir, let me tell _you_--

_Twi._ O! O! my dear Madam, 'tis all in vain--there is no such
thing--it can't be--there is no pleading against conviction--a person
of low birth must, in every particular, be a terrible creature.

_Sir Luke._ [_Going to her._] A terrible creature! a terrible
creature!

_Lady._ Here comes my Lord Flint--I'll appeal to him.

     _Enter Lord_ Flint.

_Sir Luke._ [_Going to him._] My Lord, I was saying, as proof that our
great Sultan, who now fills this throne, is no impostor, (as the rebel
party wou'd insinuate) no low-born man, but of the Royal Stock; his
conduct palpably evinces--for, had he not been nobly born, we shou'd
have beheld the Plebeian bursting forth upon all occasions [_Looking
at Lady_ Tremor] and then, Heaven help all those who had had any
dealings with him!

_Lady._ Provoking! [_Goes up the stage._

_Lord._ Sir Luke, is there a doubt of the Emperor's birth and title?
he is the real Sultan, depend upon it--it surprises me to hear you
talk with the smallest uncertainty.

_Twi._ O, Sir Luke, I wonder at it too, [_Aside to Lord_ Flint.]
and yet, damn me, my Lord, if I have not my doubts. [_Lord_ Flint
_starts_.

_Sir Luke. I_, my Lord? far be it from me! I was only saying what
other people said; for my part _I_ never harboured a doubt of the
kind.--[_Aside._] My head begins to nod, only for that word--pray
Heaven, I may die with it on!--I shou'd not like to lose my head--nor
shou'd I like to die by a bullet--nor by a small sword--and a cannon
ball wou'd be as disagreeable, as any thing, I know--it is very
odd--but I never yet could make up my mind, in what manner I shou'd
like to go out of the world. [_During this speech._ Twineall _is
paying court to Lord_ Flint; _they come forward and Sir_ Luke
_retires_.

_Lord._ Your temerity astonishes me!

_Twi._ I must own, my Lord, I feel somewhat aukward in saying
it to your Lordship--but my own heart--my own conscience--my own
sentiments--they _are_ my own--and they are dear to me.--And so it
is--the Sultan does not appear to be [_With significance._] that great
man some people think him.

_Lord._ Sir, you astonish me--pray what is your name? I have forgotten
it.

_Twi._ Twineall, my Lord--the honourable Henry Twineall--your Lordship
does me great honour to ask--arrived this morning from England, as
your Lordship may remember--in the ship Mercury, my Lord--and all the
officers on board speaking with the highest admiration and warmest
terms of your Lordship's official character.

_Lord._ Why, then, Mr. Twineall, I am very sorry--

_Twi._ And so am I, my Lord, that your sentiments and mine shou'd so
far disagree, as I _know_ they do.--I am not unacquainted with your
firm adherence to the Emperor--but I am unused to disguise my thoughts--I
cou'd not, if I wou'd--I have no little views--no sinister motives--no
plots--no intrigues--no schemes of preferment,--and I verily believe
that if a large scymitar was now directed at my head--or a large
pension directed to my pocket--(in the first case at least) I shou'd
speak my mind.

_Lord._ [_Aside._] A dangerous young man this! and I may make
something of the discovery.

_Twi._ [_Aside._] It tickles him to the soul, I find.--My Lord, now I
begin to be warm on the subject, I feel myself quite agitated--and,
from the intelligence which I have heard, even when I was in
England,--there is every reason to suppose----exm--exm--exm--
[_Mutters._]

_Lord._ What, Sir? what?

_Twi._ You understand me.

_Lord._ No, Sir--explain.

_Twi._ Why, then, there is every reason to suppose--some people are
not what they shou'd be--pardon my thoughts, if they are wrong.

_Lord._ I _do_ pardon your thoughts, with all my heart--but your
words, young man, must be answer'd for [_Aside._] Lady Tremor, good
morning.

_Twi._ [_Aside._] He is going to ruminate on my sentiments, I dare
say.

_Lady._ Shall we have your Lordship's company towards the evening? Mr.
Haswell will be here; if your Lordship has no objection?

_Sir Luke._ How do you know Mr. Haswell will be here?

_Lady._ Because he has just called, in his way to the Palace, and said
so--and he has been telling us some very interesting stories too.

_Sir Luke._ Of his morning visits, I suppose--I heard Meanright say he
saw him very busy.

_Lady._ Sir Luke and I dine out, my Lord; but we shall return early in
the evening.

_Lord._ I will be here, without fail.--Sir Luke, a word with you if
you please--[_They come forward._] Mr. Twineall has taken some very
improper liberties with the Sultan's name, and I must insist on making
him answer for it.

_Sir Luke._ My Lord, you are extremely welcome [_Trembling._] to do
whatever your Lordship pleases with any one belonging to me, or to my
house--but I hope your Lordship will pay some regard to the master of
it.

_Lord._ O! great regard to the master--and to the mistress also.--But
for that gentleman----

_Sir Luke._ Do _what_ your Lordship pleases.

_Lord._ I will--and I will make him--

_Sir Luke._ If your Lordship does not forget it.

_Lord._ I shan't forget it, Sir Luke--I have a very good memory, when
I please.

_Sir Luke._ I don't, in the least, doubt it, my Lord--I never did
doubt it.

_Lord._ And I can be very severe too, Sir Luke, when I please.

_Sir Luke._ I don't, in the least, doubt it, my Lord--I never did
doubt it.

_Lord._ You may depend upon seeing me here in the evening--and then
you shall find I have not threatened more than I mean to perform--good
morning!

_Sir Luke._ Good morning, my Lord--I don't in the least doubt it.
[_Exit Lord_ Flint.

_Lady._ [_Coming forward with_ Twineall.] For Heaven's sake, Mr.
Twineall, what has birth to do with--

_Twi._ It has to do with _every thing_, Madam--even with beauty--and I
wish I may suffer death, if a woman, with all the mental and personal
accomplishments of the finest creature in Europe, wou'd to me be of
that value, [_Snapping his fingers._] if lowly born.

_Sir Luke._ And I sincerely wish every man who visits me was of the
same opinion.

_Aur._ For shame, Mr. Twineall! persons of mean birth ought not to be
despised for what it was not in their power to prevent--and if it is a
misfortune, you shou'd consider them only as objects of pity.

_Twi._ And so I do pity them--and so I do--most sincerely--poor
creatures! [_Looking on Lady_ Tremor.

_Sir Luke._ Aye, now he has mended it finely.

_Lady._ Mr. Twineall, let me tell you--

_Sir Luke._ My dear--Lady Tremor--[_Taking her aside._] let him
alone--let him go on--there is something preparing for him he little
expects--so let the poor man say and do what he pleases, for the
present--it won't last long--for he has offended my Lord Flint, and,
I dare say his Lordship will be able, upon some account or another, to
get him imprisoned for life.

_Lady._ Imprisoned! Why not take off his head at once?

_Sir Luke._ Well, my dear--I am sure I have no objection--and I dare
say my Lord will have it done, to oblige you.--Egad, I must make
friends with her to keep mine safe. [_Aside._

_Lady._ Do you mean to take him out to dinner with us?

_Sir Luke._ Yes, my dear, if you approve of it--not else.

_Lady._ You are grown extremely polite.

_Sir Luke._ Yes, my dear, his Lordship has taught me how to be
polite.--Mr. Twineall, Lady Tremor and I are going to prepare for our
visit, and I will send a servant to shew you to your apartment, in
order to dress, for you will favour us with your company, I hope?

_Twi._ Certainly, Sir Luke, I shall do myself the honour.

_Lady._ Come this way, Aurelia, I can't bear to look at him.
[_Exit with_ Aurelia.

_Sir Luke._ Nor I to _think_ of him. [_Exit._

_Twi._ If I have not settled my business in this family, I am
mistaken--they seem to have but one mind about me.--Devilish clever
fellow, egad!--I am the man to send into the world--such a volatile,
good-looking scoundrel too! No one suspects me----to be sure I am
under some few obligations to my friend for letting me into the
different characters of the family--and yet I don't know whether I
am obliged to him or not--for if he had not made me acquainted with
them--I shou'd soon have had the skill to find them out myself.--No;
I will not think myself under any obligation to him--it is devilish
inconvenient for a gentleman to be under an obligation. [_Exit._


SCENE II. _The Palace. The Sultan discovered with guards and officers
attending._

Haswell _is conducted in by an officer_.


_Sul._ Sir, you are summoned to receive our thanks, for the troops
restored to health by your kind prescriptions.--Ask a reward adequate
to your services.

_Has._ Sultan--the reward I ask, is to preserve more of your people
still.

_Sul._ How more? my subjects are in health--no contagion reigns
amongst them.

_Has._ The prisoner is your subject--there misery--more contagious
than disease, preys on the lives of hundreds--sentenced but to
confinement, their doom is death.--Immured in damp and dreary vaults,
they daily perish--and who can tell but that amongst the many hapless
sufferers, there may be hearts, bent down with penitence to Heaven and
you, for every slight offence--there may be some amongst the wretched
multitude, even innocent victims.--Let me seek them out--let me save
them, and you.

_Sul._ Amazement! retract your application--curb this weak pity; and
receive our thanks.

_Has._ Curb my pity?--and what can I receive in recompence for that
soft bond, which links me to the wretched?--and while it sooths their
sorrow repays me more, than all the gifts or homage of an empire.----But
if repugnant to your plan of government--not in the name of pity--but
of justice.

_Sul._ Justice!----

_Has._ The justice which forbids all but the worst of criminals to be
denied that wholesome air the very brute creation freely takes; at
least allow them _that_.

_Sul._ Consider, Sir, for whom you plead--for men, (if not base
culprits) yet so misled, so depraved, they are offensive to our state,
and deserve none of its blessings.

_Has._ If not upon the undeserving,--if not upon the hapless wanderer
from the paths of rectitude,--where shall the sun diffuse his light,
or the clouds distil their dew? Where shall spring breathe fragrance,
or autumn pour its plenty?

_Sul._ Sir, your sentiments, but much more your character, excite my
curiosity. They tell me, in our camps, you visited each sick man's
bed,--administered yourself the healing draught,--encouraged our
savages with the hope of life, or pointed out their _better_ hope in
death.----The widow speaks your charities--the orphan lisps your
bounties--and the rough Indian melts in tears to bless you.----I wish
to ask _why_ you have done all this?--What is it prompts you thus to
befriend the wretched and forlorn?

_Has._ In vain for me to explain--the time it wou'd take to tell you
why I act thus----

_Sul._ Send it in writing then.

_Has._ Nay, if you will _read_, I'll send a book, in which is
_already_ written why I act thus.

_Sul._ What book?--What is it called?

_Has._ "The Christian Doctrine." [Haswell _bows here with the utmost
reverence_.] There you will find all I have done was but my duty.

_Sul._ [_To the Guards._] Retire, and leave me alone with the
stranger. [_All retire except_ Haswell _and the_ Sultan. _They come
forward._]

_Sul._ Your words recall reflections that distract me; nor can I bear
the pressure on my mind without confessing--I am a Christian.

_Has._ A Christian!--What makes you thus assume the apostate?

_Sul._ Misery, and despair.

_Has._ What made you a Christian?

_Sul._ My Arabella,--a lovely European, sent hither in her youth, by
her mercenary parents, to sell herself to the prince of all these
territories. But 'twas my happy lot, in humble life, to win her love,
snatch her from his expecting arms, and bear her far away--where, in
peaceful solitude we lived, till, in the heat of the rebellion against
the late Sultan, I was forced from my happy home to bear a part.--I
chose the imputed rebels side, and fought for the young aspirer.--An
arrow, in the midst of the engagement, pierced his heart; and his
officers, alarmed at the terror this stroke of fate might cause
amongst their troops, urged me (as I bore his likeness) to counterfeit
it farther, and shew myself to the soldiers as their king recovered. I
yielded to their suit, because it gave me ample power to avenge the
loss of my Arabella, who had been taken from her home by the merciless
foe, and barbarously murdered.

_Has._ Murdered!

_Sul._ I learnt so--and my fruitless search to find her since has
confirmed the intelligence.--Frantic for her loss, I joyfully embraced
a scheme which promised vengeance on the enemy--it prospered,--and I
revenged my wrongs and her's, with such unsparing justice on the foe,
that even the men who made me what I was, trembled to reveal their
imposition; and they find it still their interest to continue it.

_Has._ Amazement!

_Sul._ Nay, they fill my prisons every day with wretches, that
dare whisper I am not the real Sultan, but a stranger. The secret,
therefore, I myself safely relate in private: the danger is to him who
speaks it again; and, with this caution, I trust, it is safe with you.

_Has._ It was, without that caution.--Now hear me.----Involved in
deeds, in cruelties, which your better thoughts revolt at, the meanest
wretch your camps or prisons hold, claims not half the compassion
_you_ have excited. Permit me, then, to be your comforter, as I have
been theirs.

_Sul._ Impossible!

_Has._ In the most fatal symptoms I have undertaken the body's cure.
The mind's disease, perhaps, I'm not less a stranger to--Oh! trust the
noble patient to my care.

_Sul._ How will you begin?

_Has._ Lead you to behold the wretched in their misery, and then
shew you yourself in their deliverer.----I have your promise for a
boon--'tis this.--Give me the liberty of six that I shall name, now
in confinement, and be yourself a witness of their enlargement.--See
joy lighted in the countenance where sorrow still has left its rough
remains.--Behold the tear of rapture chase away that of anguish--hear
the faultering voice, long used to lamentation, in broken accents,
utter thanks and blessings.--Behold this scene, and if you find the
medicine ineffectual, dishonour your physician.

_Sul._ I will behold it.

_Has._ Come, then, to the governor's house this very night--into that
council room so often perverted to the use of the torture; and there,
unknown to them as their king, you shall be witness to all the
grateful heart can dictate, and enjoy all that benevolence can taste.

_Sul._ I will meet you there.

_Has._ In the evening?

_Sul._ At ten precisely.--Guards, conduct the stranger from the
palace. [_Exit Sultan._

_Has._ Thus far advanced, what changes may not be hoped for? [_Exit._

END OF THE THIRD ACT.




ACT IV.


SCENE I. _An Apartment at Sir_ Luke'_s_.

_Enter_ Elvirus _and_ Aurelia.


_Elvirus._ Oh my Aurelia! since the time I first saw you--since you
left the pleasant spot, where I first beheld you; what distress, what
anguish have we known?

_Aur._ Your family?

_Elv._ Yes--and that caused the silence which I hope you have
lamented.--I could not wound you with the recital of our misfortunes
--and now, only with the sad idea that I shall never see you more,
I am come to take my leave.

_Aur._ Is there a chance that we may never meet again?

_Elv._ There is--and I hope it too--sincerely hope and request it--to
see you again, wou'd be again to behold my father pining in misery.

_Aur._ Explain--[_A loud rapping at the door._] that is, Sir Luke, and
Lady Tremor--what shall I say, shou'd they come hither? they suspect I
correspond with some person in the country--who shall I say you are?
upon what business can I say you are come?

_Elv._ To avoid all suspicion of my real situation, and to be sure to
gain admittance, I put on this habit, and told the servant, when I
inquired for you, I was just arrived from England--[_She starts._]
nay, it was but necessary I should conceal who I was in this
suspicious place, or I might plunge a whole family in the imputed
guilt of mine.

_Aur._ Good Heaven!

_Elv._ I feared, besides, there was no other means; no likelihood to
gain admission--and what, what wou'd I not have sacrificed, rather
than left you for ever without a last farewell? think on these weighty
causes, and pardon the deception.

_Aur._ But if they should ask me--

_Elv._ Say, as I have done--my stay must be so short, it is impossible
they shou'd detect me--for I must be back--

_Aur._ Where?

_Elv._ No matter where--I must be back before the evening--and would
almost wish never to see you more--I love you, Aurelia--O, how truly!
and yet there is a love more dear, more sacred still.

_Aur._ You torture me with suspense--Sir Luke is coming this way--what
name shall I say, if he asks me?

_Elv._ Glanmore--I announced that name to the servant.

_Aur._ You tremble.

_Elv._ The imposition hurts me--and I feel as if I dreaded a
detection, though 'tis scarce possible--Sorrows have made a coward of
me--even the servant, I thought, looked at me with suspicion--and I
was both confounded and enraged.

_Aur._ Go into this apartment; I'll follow you--there we may be
safe--and do not hide the smallest circumstance which I may have to
apprehend. [Elvirus _exit at a door_.

_Sir Luke._ [_Without._] Abominable! provoking! impertinent! not to be
borne!

_Aur._ [_Listening._] Thank Heaven, Sir Luke is so perplexed with some
affairs of his own, he may not think of mine.--[_Exit to_ Elvirus.

     _Enter Sir_ Luke, _followed by Lady_ Tremor.

_Sir Luke._ I am out of all patience--and all temper--did you ever
hear of such a compleat impertinent coxcomb? Talk, talk, talk,
continually! and referring to me on all occasions! "Such a man was a
brave General--another a great Admiral," and then he must tell a long
story about a siege, and ask me if it did not make my bosom glow!

_Lady._ It had not that effect upon your face, for you were as white
as ashes.

_Sir Luke._ Aye, you did not see yourself, while he was talking of
grandfathers and great grandfathers--if you had--

_Lady._ I was not white, I protest.

_Sir Luke._ No--but you were as red as scarlet.

_Lady._ And you ought to have resented the insult, if you saw me
affected by it--Oh! some men wou'd have given him such a dressing--

_Sir Luke._ Yes, my dear, if your uncle the frisseur had been alive,
he wou'd have given him a dressing, I dare say.

_Lady._ Sir Luke, none of your impertinence; you know I can't nor
won't bear it--neither will I wait for Lord Flint's resentment on Mr.
Twineall--No, I desire you will tell him to quit this roof
immediately.

_Sir Luke._ No, my dear--no, no--you must excuse me--I can't think of
quarrelling with a gentleman in my own house.

_Lady._ Was it your own house to day at dinner when he insulted us?
and would quarrel then?

_Sir Luke._ No--that was a friend's house--and I make it a rule never
to quarrel in my own house--a friend's house--in a tavern--or in the
streets.

_Lady._ Well, then, I would quarrel in my own house--a friend's
house--a tavern--or in the streets--if any one offended _me_.

_Sir Luke._ O, my dear, I have no doubt of it--no doubt, in the least.

_Lady._ But, at present, it shall be in my own house,--and I will tell
the gentleman to quit it immediately.

_Sir Luke._ Very well, my dear--pray do.

_Lady._ I suppose, however, I may tell him I have your authority to
bid him go?

_Sir Luke._ Tell him I have no authority--none in the world over
you--but that you will do as you like.

_Lady._ I can't tell him so--he won't believe it.

_Sir Luke._ Why not? you often tell me so, and _make_ me believe it
too.

_Lady._ Here the gentleman comes--go away for a moment.

_Sir Luke._ With all my heart, my dear. [_Going in a hurry._

_Lady._ I'll give him a few hints, that he must either change his mode
of behaviour, or leave us.

_Sir Luke._ That's right--but don't be too warm--or if he should be
very impertinent, or insolent--(I hear Aurelia's voice in the next
room) call _her_, and I dare say she'll come and take your part.
[_Exit Sir_ Luke.

     _Enter_ Twineall.

_Twi._ I positively could pass a whole day upon that stair-case--those
reverend faces--I presume they are the portraits of some of your
Ladyship's illustrious ancestors.

_Lady._ Sir! Mr. Twineall--give me leave to tell you--[_In a violent
passion._

_Twi._ The word illustrious, I find, displeases you--pardon me--I did
not mean to make use of so forcible an epithet--I know the delicacy of
sentiment, which cannot bear the reflection that a few centuries only
shou'd reduce from royalty, one, whose dignified deportment seems to
have been formed for that resplendent station.

_Lady._ The man is certainly mad!----Mr. Twineall--

_Twi._ Pardon me, Madam--I own I am an enthusiast on these
occasions--the dignity of blood--

_Lady._ You have too much, I am sure--do, have a little taken from
you.

_Twi._ Gladly wou'd I lose every drop that fills these plebeian veins,
to be enobled by the smallest----

_Lady._ Pray, Sir, take up your abode in some other place.

_Twi._ Madam! [_Surprised._

_Lady._ Your behaviour, Sir--

_Twi._ If my friend had not given me the hint, damn me if I shou'd not
think her down right angry. [_Aside._

_Lady._ I can scarce contain my rage at being so laugh'd at. [_Aside._

_Twi._ I'll mention the wig----this is the time--[_Aside._] Perhaps
you may resent it, Madam--but there is a favour--

_Lady._ A favour, Sir! is this a time to ask a favour?

_Twi._ To an admirer of antiquity, as I am.

_Lady._ Antiquity again!

_Twi._ I beg pardon----but----a wig, Ma'am--

_Lady._ A what? [_Petrified._

_Twi._ A wig. [_Bowing._

_Lady._ Oh! oh! oh! [_Choaking._] this is not to be borne--this is too
much--ah! ah! [_Sitting down, and going into fits._] a direct, plain,
palpable, and unequivocal attack upon my family--without evasion or
palliative.--I can't bear it any longer.--Oh! oh!--[_Shrieking._

_Twi._ Bless my soul, what shall I do? what's the matter?

_Sir Luke._ [_Without._] Maids! maids! go to your mistress--that
good-for-nothing fellow is doing her a mischief.

     _Enter_ Aurelia.

_Aur._ Dear Madam, what is the matter?

     _Enter Sir_ Luke, _and stands close to the scenes_.

_Lady._ Oh! oh! [_Crying._

_Sir Luke._ How do you do now, my dear?

_Twi._ Upon my word, Sir Luke--

_Sir Luke._ O, Sir, no apology--it does not signify--never mind it--I
beg you won't put yourself to the trouble of an apology--it is of no
kind of consequence.

_Lady._ What do you mean, Sir Luke? [_Recovered._

_Sir Luke._ To shew proper philosophy, my dear, under the affliction I
feel for your distress.

_Lady._ [_To_ Aurelia.] Take Twineall out of the room.

_Aur._ Mr. Twineall, her Ladyship begs you'll leave the room, till she
is a little recovered.

_Twi._ Certainly. [_Bows respectfully to her Ladyship, and exit with_
Aurelia.

_Sir Luke._ I thought what you wou'd get by quarrelling--fits--and
tears.

_Lady._ And you know, Sir Luke, if you had quarrelled, you wou'd have
been in the same situation. [_Rising from her seat._] But, Sir Luke,
my dear, Sir Luke, show yourself a man of courage but on this
occasion.--

_Sir Luke._ My dear, I wou'd do as much for you as I wou'd for my own
life--but damn me if I think I could fight to save that.

     _Enter Lord_ Flint.

_Lord._ Lady Tremor, did the servant say you were very well, or very
ill?

_Lady._ Oh, my Lord, that insolent coxcomb, the honourable Mr.
Twineall--

_Lord._ Oh, I am very glad you put me in mind of it--I dare say I
shou'd have forgot it else, notwithstanding I came on purpose.

_Lady._ Forgot what?

_Lord._ A little piece of paper here, [_Pulling out a parchment._] but
it will do a great deal--has he offended you?

_Lady._ Beyond bearing.

_Lord._ I am glad of it, because it gives double pleasure to my
vengeance--he is a disaffected person, Madam--boldly told me he
doubted the Sultan's right to the throne--I have informed against him,
and his punishment is at my option--I may have him imprisoned; shot;
sent to the gallies; or his head cut off--but which does your Ladyship
chuse?--Which ever you please is at your service. [_Bowing._

_Lady._ [_Rising and curtsying._] O, they are all alike to me; which
ever you please, my Lord.

_Sir Luke._ What a deal of ceremony!--how cool they are about it.

_Lord._ And why not cool, Sir; why not cool?

_Sir Luke._ O, very true--I am sure it has froze me.

_Lord._ I will go instantly, for fear it shou'd slip my memory, and
put this paper into the hands of proper officers--in the mean time,
Sir Luke, if you can talk with your visitor, Mr. Twineall, do--inquire
his opinion of the Sultan's rights--ask his thoughts, as if you were
commissioned by me--and, while he is revealing them to you, the
officers shall be in ambush, surprise him in the midst of his
sentiments, and bear him away to--[Twineall _looking in_.

_Twi._ May I presume to inquire how your Ladyship does?

_Lady._ O, yes--and pray walk in--I am quite recovered.

_Lord._ Lady Tremor, I bid you good day for the present.

_Sir Luke._ [_Following him to the door._] Your Lordship won't forget?

_Lord._ No--depend upon it, I shall remember.

_Sir Luke._ Yes--and make some other people remember too. [_Exit Lord_
Flint.

_Twi._ Is his Lordship gone? I am very sorry.

_Sir Luke._ No--don't be uneasy, he'll soon be back.

     _Enter_ Haswell.

_Sir Luke._ Mr. Haswell, I am glad to see you.

_Has._ I told her Ladyship I would call in the evening, Sir Luke; and
so I have kept my word--I wanted too to speak with my Lord Flint, but
he was in such a hurry as he passed me, he wou'd hardly let me ask him
how he did.--I hope your Ladyship is well this afternoon. [_Bows to_
Twineall--_Sir_ Luke _exit at the door to_ Aurelia _and_ Elvirus.

_Twi._ Pardon me, Mr. Haswell, but I almost suspect you heard of her
Ladyship's indisposition, and therefore paid this visit; for I am not
to learn your care and attention to all under affliction.

_Has._ [_Bows gravely._] Has your Ladyship been indisposed then?

_Lady._ A little--but I am much better.

_Twi._ Surely, of all virtues, charity is the first! it so protects
our neighbour!

_Has._ Do not you think, Sir, _patience_ frequently protects him as
much?

_Twi._ Dear Sir--pity for the poor miserable--

_Has._ Is oftener excited than the poor and miserable are aware of.
[_Looking significantly at him._

_Sir Luke._ [_From the room where_ Aurelia _and_ Elvirus _are_.] Nay,
Sir, I beg you will walk into this apartment--Aurelia, introduce the
gentleman to Lady Tremor.

_Lady._ Who has she with her?

_Has._ Aurelia!--O! I have not seen her I know not when--and besides
my acquaintance with her relations in England, there is a frank
simplicity about her that--

     _Enter Sir_ Luke, Aurelia, _and_ Elvirus.

_Sir Luke._ You shou'd have introduced the gentleman before--I assure
you, Sir, [_To_ Elvirus.] I did not know, nor shou'd I have known, if
I had not accidentally come into the room. [Haswell _starts, on seeing_
Elvirus.

_Sir Luke._ [_To Lady_ Tremor.] A relation of Aurelia's--a Mr.
Glanmore, my dear, just arrived from England; who call'd to pass a
few minutes with us, before he sets off to the part of India he is to
reside in. [Elvirus _and_ Aurelia _appear in the utmost embarrassment
and confusion_.

_Lady._ I hope, Sir, your stay with us will not be so short as Sir
Luke has mentioned?

_Elv._ Pardon me, Madam, it must--the caravan, with which I travel,
goes off this evening, and I must accompany it.

_Has._ [_Aside._] I doubted before; but the voice confirms me.
[_Looking on_ Elvirus.

_Lady._ Why, you only arrived this morning, did you, Mr. Glanmore? you
came passenger in the same ship, then, with Mr. Twineall?

_Twi._ No, Madam--Sir, I am very sorry we had not the pleasure of your
company on board of us. [_To_ Elvirus.

_Sir Luke._ You had;--Mr. Glanmore came over in the Mercury--did not
you tell me so, Sir? [Elvirus _bows_.

_Twi._ Bless my soul, Sir! I beg your pardon--but surely that
cannot be--I got acquainted with every soul on board of us--every
creature--all their connections--and I can scarcely suppose you were
of the number.

_Sir Luke._ [_Aside._] How impertinent he is to this gentleman too! O!
that I had but courage to knock him down.

_Elv._ [_To_ Twineall.] Perhaps, Sir--

_Aur._ Yes, I dare say, that was the case.

_Twi._ What was the case, Madam?

_Sir Luke._ Wha--wha--wha--[_Mimicks._] that is not good breeding.

_Has._ Why do you blush, Aurelia?

_Aur._ Because [_Hesitating._] this gentleman----came over in the
same ship with Mr. Twineall.

_Sir Luke._ And I can't say I wonder at your blushing.

_Twi._ Why then positively, Sir, I thought I had known every
passenger----and surely--

_Lady._ Mr. Twineall, your behaviour puts me out of all patience--did
you not hear the gentleman say he came in the same vessel; and is not
that sufficient?

_Twi._ Perfectly, Madam--perfectly--but I thought there might be some
mistake.

_Elv._ And there is, Sir--you find you are mistaken.

_Lady._ I thought so.----

_Has._ [_To_ Elvirus.] And you _did_ come in the same vessel?

_Elv._ Sir, do _you_ doubt it?

_Has._ Doubt it?

_Elv._ Dare not doubt it.--[_Trembling and confused._

_Has._ Dare not?

_Elv._ No, Sir, dare not. [_Violently._

_Aur._ Oh, heavens!

_Sir Luke._ [_To_ Aurelia.] Come, my dear, you and I will get out of
the way. [_Retiring with her._

_Lady._ O, dear!--for heaven's sake!--Mr. Twineall, this is your
doing.

_Twi._ Me, Madam!----

_Has._ I beg the company's pardon--but [_To_ Elvirus.] a single word
with you, Sir, if you please.

_Lady._ Dear Mr. Haswell----

_Has._ Trust my prudence and forbearance, Madam--I will but speak a
word in private to this gentleman.--[Haswell _takes_ Elvirus _down to
the bottom of the stage; the rest retire_.

_Has._ Are you, or are you not, an impostor?

_Elv._ I am--I am--but do not you repeat my words--Do not _you_ say
it. [_Threatening._

_Has._ What am I to fear?

_Elv._ Fear _me_--I cannot lie with fortitude; but I can----Beware of
me.

_Has._ I _will_ beware of you, and so shall all my friends.

_Elv._ Insolent, insulting man.--[_With the utmost contempt._

_Lady_ Tremor _and the rest come down_.

_Lady._ Come, come, gentlemen, I hope you are now perfectly satisfied
about this little nonsense.--Let us change the subject.--Mr. Haswell,
have you been successful before the Sultan for any of those poor
prisoners you visited this morning?

_Sir Luke._ Aye; Meanright told me he saw you coming from them with
your long cloak; and said he shou'd not have known you, if somebody
had not said it was you.

     [Elvirus _looks with surprise, confusion, and repentance_.]

_Lady._ But what success with the Sultan?

_Has._ He has granted me the pardon and freedom of any six I shall
present as objects of his mercy.

_Lady._ I sincerely rejoice.--Then the youth and his father, whom you
felt so much for, I am sure, will be in the number of those who share
your clemency.

     [Haswell _makes no reply, and after a pause_]--

_Elv._ [_With the most supplicatory tone and manner._] Sir--Mr.
Haswell--O, heavens!

_Sir Luke._ Come, Mr. Haswell, this young man seems sorry he has
offended you--forgive him.

_Lady._ Aye, do, Mr. Haswell--are you sorry, Sir?

_Elv._ O! wounded to the heart--and, without his pardon, see nothing
but despair.

_Lady._ Good heavens!

_Has._ Sir Luke, my Lord Flint told me he was coming back
directly--pray inform him I had business elsewhere, and cou'd wait no
longer. [_Exit._

_Elv._ O! I'm undone.

_Lady._ Follow him, if you have any thing to say?

_Elv._ I _dare_ not--I feel the terror of his just reproach.

_Lady._ Did you know him in England?

_Aur._ Dear Madam, will you suffer me to speak a few words----[_Aside
to Lady_ Tremor.

_Sir Luke._ Aye; leave her and her relation together, and let us take
a turn in the garden with Mr. Twineall.--I'm afraid his Lordship will
be back before we have drawn him to say more on the subject, for which
he will be arrested.

_Lady._ You are right.

_Sir Luke._ Mr. Twineall, will you walk this way?--That young lady and
gentleman wish to have a little conversation.

_Twi._ O, certainly, Sir Luke, by all means. [_Exeunt Sir_ Luke _and
Lady_.

[_To_ Elvirus.] I am extremely sorry, Sir, you kept your bed during
the voyage: I shou'd else have been most prodigiously happy in such
good company. [_Exit._

_Aur._ Why are you thus agitated? It was wrong to be so impetuous--but
such regret as this----

_Elv._ Hear the secret I refused before--my father is a prisoner for
life.

_Aur._ Oh, heavens! then Mr. Haswell was the only man----

_Elv._ And he had promised me--promised me, with benevolence, his
patronage--but the disguise he wore when I first saw him, led me to
mistake him now--made me expose my falsehood, my infamy, and treat his
honour'd person with abuse.

_Aur._ Aye; let his virtues make you thus repent; but let them also
make you hope forgiveness.

_Elv._ Nay, he is just, as well as compassionate--and for detected
falsehood----

_Aur._ You make me tremble.

_Elv._ Yet he shall hear my story--I'll follow him, and obtain his
pity, if not his pardon.

_Aur._ Nay, supplicate for that too--and you need not blush, or feel
yourself degraded, to _kneel_ to HIM, for he wou'd scorn the pride
that triumphs over the humbled. [_Exeunt._


SCENE II. _The Garden._

_Enter Sir_ Luke, Twineall, _and Lady_ Tremor.


_Twi._ Why, really, Sir Luke, as my Lord has given you charge to sound
my principles, I must own they are just such as I delivered to him.

_Sir Luke._ Well, Mr. Twineall, I only wish you to be a little more
clear--we will suppose the present Sultan no impostor--yet what
pretensions do you think the _other_ family----

_Twi._ That I'll make clear to you at once--or if my reasons are _not_
very clear, they are at least very _positive_, and that you know is
the same thing.--This family--no--that family--the family that reigned
before this--this came after that--they came before. Now every one
agrees that this family was always--so and so--[_whispering._]--and
that the other was always--so and so--[_whispering._]--in short, every
body knows that one of them had always a very suspicious--you know
what----

_Sir Luke._ No, I don't.

_Twi._ Pshaw--pshaw--every body conjectures what--and though it was
never said in so many words, yet it was always supposed--and though
there never has been any proof, yet there have been things much more
strong--and for that very reason, Sir William--(Sir Luke, I mean--I
beg your pardon)--for that very reason--(I can't think what made me
call you Sir William)--_for that very reason_--(Oh, I was thinking of
Sir William Tiffany)--for that very reason, say people what they
will--_that, that_ must be their opinion--but then where is the man
who will speak his thoughts freely as I have done?

     _Enter Guards, who had been listening at a distance during
     this speech._

_Sir Luke._ [_Starting._] Bless my soul, gentlemen, you made my heart
jump to my very lips.

_Guard._ [_To_ Twineall.] Sir, you are our prisoner, and must go with
us.

_Twi._ Gentlemen, you are mistaken--I had all my clothes made in
England, and 'tis impossible the bill can have followed me already.

_Guard._ Your charge, is something against the state.

_Twi._ Against the state?--You are mistaken--it cannot be me.

_Guard._ No--there is no mistake.--[_Pulling out a paper._]--You are
here called Henry Twineall.

_Twi._ But if they have left out _honourable_, it can't be me----I am
the Honourable Henry Twineall.

_Sir Luke._ Aye, that you are to prove before your judges.

_Guard._ Yes, Sir--and we are witnesses of the long speech you have
just now been making.

_Twi._ And pray, gentlemen, did you know what I meant by it?

_Guard._ Certainly.

_Twi._ Why, then, upon my soul, it was more than I did--I wish I may
be sacrificed----

_Sir Luke._ Well, well, you are _going_ to be sacrificed--Don't be
impatient.

_Twi._ But, gentlemen--Sir Luke! [_The Guards seize him._

_Lady._ Dear Mr. Twineall, I am afraid you will have occasion for the
dignity of all my ancestors to support you under this trial.

_Sir Luke._ And have occasion for all my courage too.

_Twi._ But, Sir--but, gentlemen----

_Sir Luke._ Oh! I wou'd not be in your coat, fashionable as it is, for
all the Sultan's dominions.

     [_Exit Sir_ Luke _and Lady_--Twineall, _and Guards--separately_.

END OF THE FOURTH ACT.




ACT V.


SCENE I. _The Prison._

Haswell _and the female Prisoner discovered_.


_Haswell._ Rather remain in this loathsome prison!--refuse the
blessing offered you!--the blessing your pleased fancy formed so
precious you durst not even trust its reality!

_Pris._ No--while my pleased _fancy_ only saw the prospect, I own it
was delightful; but now reason beholds it within my reach, the view
is changed--and what, in the gay dream of fond delirium, seemed a
blessing, in my waking hours of sad reflection would prove the most
severe of punishments.

_Has._ Explain--what is the cause that makes you think thus?

_Pris._ A cause that has alone for fourteen years made me resigned to
a fate like this.--When you first mentioned my release from this drear
place, my wild ideas included, with the light, all that had ever made
the light a blessing--'twas not the _sun_ I saw in my mad transport,
but a lost husband filled my roving fancy--'twas his idea that gave
the colours of the world their beauty, and made me fondly hope to
grasp its sweets.

_Has._ A husband!

_Pris._ But the world that I was wont to enjoy with him--to see again
without him--every well-known object would wound my mind with dear
remembrances for ever lost, and make my freedom torture.

_Has._ But yet----

_Pris._ Oh! on my knees a thousand times I have thanked Heaven that
_he_ partook not of this dire abode--that he shared not with me my
hard usage!--a greater blessing I possess'd from that, than all his
loved society cou'd have given--but in a happy world, where smiling
nature pours her boundless gifts!--oh! there his loss wou'd be
unsufferable.

_Has._ Do you lament him dead?

_Pris._ Yes--or, like me, a prisoner--else he wou'd have sought me
out--have sought his Arabella!--[Haswell _starts_.]--Why do you start?

_Has._ Are you a Christian?--an European?

_Ara._ I am.

_Has._ The name made me suppose it.--I am shocked that----the
Christian's sufferings--[_Trying to conceal his surprise._]--but were
you made a prisoner in the _present_ Sultan's reign?

_Ara._ Yes, or I had been set free on his ascent to the throne; for he
gave pardon to all the enemies of the slain monarch: but I was taken
in a vessel, where I was hurried in the heat of the battle with a
party of the late Emperor's friends--and all the prisoners were by the
officers of the present Sultan sent to slavery, or confined, as I have
been, in hopes of ransom from their friends.

_Has._ And did never intelligence or inquiry reach you from your
husband?

_Ara._ Never.

_Has._ Never?

_Ara._ I once was informed of a large reward for the discovery of a
female Christian, and, with boundless hopes, asked an interview with
the messenger; but found, on inquiry, _I_ could not answer his
description, as he _secretly_ informed me it was the Sultan who made
the search for one _he himself_ had known and dearly loved.

_Has._ Good Heaven!--[_Aside._]--You then conclude your husband dead?

_Ara._ I do;--or, like me, by some mischance, taken with the other
party, and having no friend to plead his cause before the Emperor,
whom he served----

_Has._ _I_'ll plead it--should I ever chance to find him--but, ere we
can hope for other kindness, you must appear before the Sultan--thank
him for the favour which you now decline, and tell the cause why you
cannot accept it.

_Ara._ Alas! almost worn out with sorrow--an object of affliction as I
am--in pity, excuse me--present my thanks--my humble gratitude--but
pardon my attendance.

_Has._ Nay, you must go--it is necessary--I will accompany you to
him.--Retire a moment; but when I send, be ready.

_Ara._ I shall obey. [_She bows obediently, and exit._

     [_As_ Haswell _comes down_, Elvirus _places himself in
     his path_--Haswell _stops, looks at him with an austere
     earnestness, which_ Elvirus _observing, turns away his face_.

_Elv._ Nay, reproach me--I can bear your anger, but do not let me meet
your eye--Oh! it is more awful, now I know who you are, than if you
had kingdoms to disperse, or could deal instant death.--[Haswell
_looks on him with a manly firmness, then walks on_, Elvirus
_following him_.]--I do not plead for my father now.--Since what has
passed, I only ask forgiveness.

_Has._ Do you forgive yourself?

_Elv._ I never will.

     _Enter_ Keeper.

_Keep._ One of our prisoners, who, in his cell, makes the most pitious
moans, has sent to entreat that Mr. Haswell will not leave this place
till he has heard his complaints and supplications.

_Has._ Bring me to him. [_Going._

_Elv._ Nay, leave me not thus--perhaps never to see you more!----

_Has._ You shall see me again--in the mean time, reflect on what you
merit. [_Exit with_ Keeper.

_Elv._ And what is that?--Confusion!--and yet, he says, I am to
see him again--speak with him.--Oh! there's a blessing to the most
abandoned, a divine propensity (they know not why) to commune with the
virtuous! [_Exit._


SCENE II. _The first Prison Scene._

_Enter second_ Keeper, Haswell _following_.


_Has._ Where is the poor unfortunate?

_2d Keep._ Here, Sir.

_Has._ Am I to behold greater misery still?--a still greater object of
compassion?

     [_Second_ Keeper _opens a door, and_ Twineall _enters a
     prisoner, in one of the prison dresses_.

_Has._ What have we here?

_Twi._ Don't you know me, Mr. Haswell?

_Has._ I beg your pardon, Sir--I beg your pardon--but is it?--is
it?----

_Twi._ Why, Mr. Haswell--if you don't know me, or won't know me, I
shall certainly lose my senses.

_Has._ O, I know you--know you very well.

_Twi._ What, notwithstanding the alteration in my dress?--there was a
hard thing!

_Has._ O, I'll procure you that again--and, for all things else, I'm
sure you will have patience.

_Twi._ O, no, I can't--upon my soul I can't.--I want a little lavender
water--My hair is in such a trim too!--No powder--no brushes----

_Has._ I will provide you with them all.

_Twi._ But who will you provide to look at me, when I am dress'd?

_Has._ I'll bring all your acquaintance.

_Twi._ I had rather you wou'd take me to see them.

_Has._ Pardon me.

_Twi._ Dear Mr. Haswell!--Dear Sir!--Dear friend!--What shall I call
you?--Only say what title you like best, and I'll call you by it
directly--I always did love to please every body--and I am sure at
this time I stand more in need of a friend than ever I did in my life.

_Has._ What has brought you here?

_Twi._ Trying to get a place.

_Has._ A place?

_Twi._ Yes; and you see I have got one--and a poor place it is!--in
short, Sir, my crime is said to be an offence against the state; and
they tell me no friend on earth but you can get that remitted.

_Has._ Upon my word, the pardons I have obtained are for so few
persons--and those already promised----

_Twi._ O, I know I am no favourite of yours--you think me an
impertinent, silly, troublesome fellow, and that my conduct in life
will be neither of use to my country nor of benefit to society.

_Has._ You mistake me, Sir--I think such glaring imperfections as
yours will not be of so much disadvantage to society as those of a
less-faulty man.--In beholding your conduct, thousands shall turn from
the paths of folly, to which fashion, custom, nature, (or call it what
you will) impels them;--therefore, Mr. Twineall, if not pity for your
faults, yet a concern for the good effect they may have upon the world
(shou'd you be admitted there again) will urge me to solicit your
return to it.

_Twi._ Sir, you have such powers of oratory--what a prodigious capital
quality!--and I doubt not but you are admired by the world equally for
that----

     _Enter_ Messenger _to_ Haswell.

_Mess._ Sir, the Sultan is arrived in the council chamber, and has
sent me. [_Whispers._

_Has._ I come.--Mr. Twineall, farewell for the present. [_Exit with_
Messenger.

_Twi._ Now, what was that whisper about?--Oh, heavens! perhaps my death
in agitation.--I have brought myself into a fine situation!--done
it by wheedling too!

_2d Keep._ Come, your business with Mr. Haswell being ended, return to
your cell. [_Roughly._

_Twi._ Certainly, Sir--certainly!--O, yes!--How happy is this prison
in having such a keeper as you!--so mild, so gentle--there is
something about you,--I said, and I thought the moment I had the
_happiness_ of meeting you here,--Dear me!--what wou'd one give for
such a gentleman as him in England!--You wou'd be of infinite service
to some of our young bucks, Sir.

_2d Keep._ Go to your cell--go to your cell. [_Roughly._

_Twi._ This world wou'd be nothing without elegant manners, and
elegant people in all stations of life.--[_Enter_ Messenger, _who
whispers second_ Keeper.]--Another whisper! [_Terrified._

_2d Keep._ No; come this way.--The judge is now sitting in the hall,
and you must come before him.

_Twi._ Before the judge, Sir--O, dear Sir!--what, in this
deshabille?--in this coat?--Dear me!--but to be sure one must conform
to customs--to the custom of the country where one is.--[_He goes to
the door, and then stops._]--I beg your pardon, Sir--wou'd not you
chuse to go first?

_2d Keep._ No.

_Twi._ O! [_Exeunt._


SCENE III. _The Council Chamber._

_Enter_ Sultan, Haswell, _and_ Guards.


_Has._ Sultan, I have out-run your bounty in my promises; and one
poor, unhappy female----

_Sul._ No--you named yourself the number to release, and it is
fixed--I'll not increase it.

_Has._ A poor, miserable female----

_Sul._ Am I less miserable than she is?--And who shall release me from
my sorrows?

_Has._ Then let me tell you, Sultan, she is above your power to
oblige, or to punish.--Ten years, nay more, confinement in a drear
cell has been no greater punishment to her, than had she lived in a
pleasant world without the man she loved.

_Sul._ Hah!

_Has._ And freedom offered she rejects with scorn, because he is not
included in the blessing.

_Sul._ You talk of prodigies!--[_He makes a sign for the Guards to
retire, and they exit._]--and yet I once knew a heart equal to this
description.

_Has._ Nay, will you see her?--Witness yourself the fact?

_Sul._ Why do I tremble?--My busy fancy presents an image----

_Has._ Yes, tremble, indeed! [_Threatening._

_Sul._ Hah! have a care--what tortures are you preparing for me?--My
mind shrinks at the idea.

_Has._ Your wife you will behold--whom you have kept in want, in
wretchedness, in a damp dungeon, for these fourteen years, because you
wou'd not listen to the voice of pity.----Dread her look--her
frown--not for herself alone, but for hundreds of her fellow
sufferers--and while your selfish fancy was searching, with wild
anxiety, for her _you_ loved, unpitying, you forgot others might love
like you.

_Sul._ O! do not bring me to a trial which I have not courage to
support.

_Has._ She attends without--I sent for her to thank you for the favour
she declines.--Nay, be composed--she knows _you_ not--cannot, thus
disguised as the Sultan. [_Exit_ Haswell.

_Sul._ Oh! my Arabella! could I have thought that your approach wou'd
ever impress my mind with horror!--or that, instead of flying to your
arms with all the love I bear you, terror and dread shou'd fix me a
statue of remorse.

     _Enter_ Haswell, _leading_ Arabella.

_Has._ Here kneel, and return your thanks.

_Sul._ My Arabella! worn with grief and anguish! [_Aside._

_Ara._ [_Kneeling to the_ Sultan.] Sultan, the favour you wou'd
bestow, I own, and humbly thank you for.

_Sul._ Gracious Heaven! [_In much agitation._

_Ara._ But as I am now accustomed to confinement, and the idea of all
the world can give, cannot inspire a wish that warms my heart to the
enjoyment--I supplicate permission to transfer the blessing you have
offered, to one of those who may have friends to welcome their return
from bondage, and so make freedom precious.--I have none to rejoice at
_my_ release--none to lament my destiny while a prisoner.--And were I
free, in this vast world (forlorn and friendless) 'tis but a prison
still.

_Sul._ What have I done?--[_Throwing himself on a sopha with the
greatest emotion._

_Has._ Speak to him again.--He repents of the severity with which he
has caused his fellow creatures to be used.--Tell him _you_ forgive
him.

_Ara._ [_Going to him._] Believe me, Emperor, I forgive all who have
ever wronged me--all who have ever caused my sufferings.--Pardon
_you_!--Alas! I have pardoned even those who tore me from my
husband!--Oh, Sultan! all the tortures you have made me suffer,
compared to such a pang as that--did I say I had forgiven it?--Oh! I
am afraid--afraid I have not yet.

_Sul._ Forgive it now, then, for he is restored.--[_Taking off
his turban._]--Behold him in the Sultan, and once more seal his
pardon.--[_She faints on_ Haswell.]--Nay, pronounce it quickly, or my
remorse for what you have undergone, will make my present tortures
greater than any my cruelties have ever yet inflicted.

_Ara._ [_Recovering._] Is this the light you promised?--[_To_
Haswell.]--Dear precious light!--Is this my freedom? to which I bind
myself a slave for ever.--[_Embracing the_ Sultan.]--Was I _your_
captive?--Sweet captivity!--more precious than an age of liberty!

_Sul._ Oh, my Arabella! through the amazing changes of my fate, (which
I will soon disclose) think not but I have searched for _thee_ with
unceasing care; but the blessing to behold you once again was left
for my kind monitor alone to bestow.----Oh, Haswell! had I, like you,
made others' miseries my concern, like you sought out the wretched,
how many days of sorrow had I spared myself as well as others--for I
long since had found my Arabella.

_Ara._ Oh, Heaven! that weighest our sufferings with our joys, and
as our lives decline seest in the balance thy blessings far more
ponderous than thy judgements--be witness, I complain no more of
what I have endured, but find an ample recompence this moment.

_Has._ I told you, Sir, how you might be happy.

_Sul._ ----Take your reward--(to a heart like yours, more valuable
than treasure from my coffers)--this signet, with power to redress the
_wrongs_ of all who suffer.

_Has._ Valuable indeed!----

_Ara._ [_To_ Haswell.] Oh, virtuous man!--to reward _thee_ are we made
happy--to give thy pitying bosom the joy to see us so, has Heaven
remitted its intended punishment of continued separation.

_Sul._ Come, my beloved wife!--come to my palace--there, equally, my
dearest blessing, as when the cottage gave its fewer joys--and in him
[_To_ Haswell.] we not only find our present happiness, but dwell
securely on our future hopes--for here, I vow, before he leaves our
shores, I will adopt every measure he shall point out--and that period
of my life whereon he shall lay his censure, that will I fix apart
for penitence.--[_Exit_ Sultan _and_ Arabella.--Haswell _bows to
Heaven with thanks_.

     _Enter_ Keeper.

_Keep._ An English prisoner, just now condemned to lose his head, one
Henry Twineall, humbly begs permission to speak a few short sentences,
his last dying words, to Mr. Haswell.

_Has._ Condemned to lose his head?--Lead me to him.

_Keep._ O, Sir, you need not hurry yourself--it is off by this time, I
dare say.

_Has._ Off?

_Keep._ Yes, Sir--we don't stand long about these things in this
country--I dare say it is off.

_Has._ [_Impatiently._] Lead me to him instantly.

_Guard._ O! 'tis of consequence, is it, Sir?--if that is the case----
[_Exit_ Keeper, _followed by_ Haswell.


SCENE IV. _An arch-way at the top of the stage, through which several
Guards enter_--Twineall _in the middle, dressed for execution, with a
large book in his hand_.


_Twi._ One more verse, gentlemen, if you please.

_Off._ The time is expired.

_Twi._ One more, gentlemen, if you please.

_Off._ The time is expired.

     _Enter_ Haswell.

_Twi._ Oh! my dear Mr. Haswell! [_Bursting into tears._

_Has._ What, in tears at parting with me?--This is a compliment
indeed!

_Twi._ I hope you take it as such--I am sure I mean it as such.--It
kills me to leave _you_--it breaks my heart;--and I once flattered
myself such a charitable, good, feeling, humane heart as you
possess----

_Has._ Hold! Hold!--This, Mr. Twineall, is the vice which has driven
you to the fatal precipice whereon you are--and in death will you not
relinquish it?

_Twi._ What vice, Sir, do you mean?

_Has._ Flattery!--a vice that renders you not only despicable, but
odious.

_Twi._ But how has flattery been the cause?

_Has._ Your English friend, before he left the island, told me what
information you had asked from him, and that he had given you the
direct _opposite_ of every person's character, as a just punishment
for your mean premeditation and designs.

_Twi._ I never imagined that amiable friend had sense enough to impose
upon any body!

_Has._ Yet I presume, he could not suppose fate wou'd have carried
their resentment to a length like this.

_Twi._ Oh! cou'd fate be arrested in its course!

_Has._ You wou'd reform your conduct?

_Twi._ I wou'd--I wou'd never say another civil thing to any
body--never--never make myself agreeable again.

_Has._ Release him--here is the Sultan's signet. [_They release him._

_Twi._ Oh! my dear Mr. Haswell! never was compassion!--never
benevolence!--never such a heart as yours!----

_Has._ Sieze him--he has broken his contract already.

_Twi._ No, Sir--No, Sir--I protest you are an illnatured, surly,
crabbed fellow. I always thought so, upon my word, whatever I have
said.

_Has._ And, I'll forgive _that_ meaning, sooner than the other--utter
any thing but flattery--Oh! never let the honest, plain, _blunt_
English name, become a proverb for so base a vice.--

_Lady Tre._ [_Without._] Where is the poor creature?

     _Enter Lady_ Tremor.

_Lady._ Oh! if his head is off, pray let me _look_ at it?----

_Twi._ No, Madam, it is on--and I am very happy to be able to tell you
so.----

_Lady._ Dear Heaven!--I expected to have seen it off!--but no
matter--as it is on--I am come that it may be kept on--and have
brought my Lord Flint, and Sir Luke, as witnesses.

     _Enter_ Lord, Aurelia, _and_ Sir Luke.

_Has._ Well, Madam, and what have they to say?

_Sir Luke._ Who are we to tell our story to?--There does not seem to
be any one fitting in judgement.--

_Has._ Tell it to me, Sir--I will report it.

_Sir Luke._ Why then, Mr. Haswell, as Ghosts sometimes walk--and as
one's conscience is sometimes troublesome--I think Mr. Twineall has
done nothing to merit death, and the charge which his Lordship sent in
against him, we begin to think too severe--but, if there was any false
statement----

_Lord._ It was the fault of my not charging my memory--any error I
have been guilty of, must be laid to the fault of my total want of
memory.

_Has._ And what do you hope from this confession?

_Sir Luke._ To remit the prisoner's punishment of death to something
less, if the Sultan will please to annul the sentence.

_Lord._ Yes--and grant ten or twelve years imprisonment--or the
Gallies for fourteen years--or----

_Sir Luke._ Ay, ay, something in that way.

_Has._ For shame--for shame--Gentlemen!--the extreme rigour you shew
in punishing a dissension from your opinion, or a satire upon your
folly, proves to conviction, what reward you had bestowed upon the
_skilful_ flatterer.

_Twi._ Gentlemen and Ladies, pray why wou'd you wish me requited with
such extreme severity, merely for my humble endeavours to make myself
agreeable?--Lady Tremor, upon my honour I was credibly informed, your
ancestors were Kings of Scotland.

_Lady._ Impossible!--you might as well say that you heard Sir Luke had
distinguished himself at the battle of----

_Twi._ And, I _did_ hear so.

_Lady._ And he _did_ distinguish himself; for he was the only one that
ran away.

_Twi._ Cou'd it happen?

_Lady._ Yes, Sir, it did happen.

_Sir Luke._ And go _you_, Mr. Twineall, into a field of battle, and I
think it is very likely to happen again.

_Lord._ If Mr. Haswell has obtained your pardon, Sir, it is all very
well--but let me advise you to keep your sentiments on politics to
yourself, for the future--as you value that pretty head of yours.

_Twi._ I thank you, Sir--I do value it.

     _Enter_ Elvirus.

_Has._ [_Going to him._] Aurelia, in this letter to me, has explained
your story with so much compassion, that, for her sake, I must pity it
too.--With freedom to your father, and yourself, the Sultan restores
his forfeited lands--and might I plead, Sir Luke, for your interest
with Aurelia's friends, this young man's filial love, shou'd be repaid
by conjugal affection.

_Sir Luke._ As for that, Mr. Haswell, you have so much interest at court,
that your taking the young man under your protection----besides, as
Aurelia was sent hither merely to get a husband--I don't see----

_Aur._ True, Sir Luke--and I am afraid my father and mother will begin
to be uneasy that I have not got one yet--and I shou'd be very sorry
to disoblige them.

_Elv._ No--say rather, sorry to make me wretched.--[_Taking her hand._

     _Enter_ Zedan.

_Has._ My Indian friend, have you received your freedom?

_Zed._ Yes--and come to bid you farewell--which I wou'd _never_ do,
had I not a family in wretchedness till my return--for you shou'd be
my master, and I _wou'd_ be your slave.----

_Has._ I thank you--may you meet at home every comfort!

_Zed._ May you--may you--what shall I say?--May you once in your life
be a prisoner--then released--to feel such joy, as I feel now!----

_Has._ I thank you for a wish, that tells me most emphatically, how
much you think I have served you.

_Twi._ And, my dear Lord, I sincerely wish you may once in your life,
have your head chopped off--just to know what I shou'd have felt, in
that situation.----

_Zed._ [_Pointing to_ Haswell.] Are all his country-men as good as he?

_Sir Luke._ No-no-no-no--not _all_--but the worst of them are good
enough to admire him.

_Twi._ Pray Mr. Haswell, will you suffer all these encomiums?

_Elv._ He _must_ suffer them--there are virtues, which praise cannot
taint--such are Mr. Haswell's--for they are the offspring of a mind,
superior even to the love of fame--neither can they, through malice,
suffer by applause, since they are too sacred to incite envy, and must
conciliate the respect, the love, and the admiration of all.

FINIS.




EPILOGUE,

Written by MILES-PETER ANDREWS, Esq.

Spoken by Mrs. MATTOCKS.


  Since all are sprung, they say, from Mother Earth,
  Why stamp a merit or disgrace on birth?
  Yet so it is, however we disguise it,
  All boast their origin, or else despise it.
  This pride or shame haunts ev'ry living soul
  From Hyde-park Corner, down to Limehouse Hole:
  Peers, taylors, poets, statesmen, undertakers,
  Knights, squires, man-milliners, and peruke-makers.
  _Sir Hugh Glengluthglin_, from the land of goats,
  Tho' out at elbows, shews you all his coats;
  And rightful heir to _twenty pounds_ per annum,
  Boasts the rich blood that warm'd his great great grannam;
  While wealthy Simon Soapsuds; just be knighted,
  Struck with the sword of state, is grown dim sighted,
  Forgets the neighbouring chins he used to lather,
  And scarcely knows he ever had a father.

    Our Author, then, correct in every line,
  From nature's characters hath pictur'd mine;
  For many a lofty fair, who, friz'd and curl'd,
  With crest of horse hair, tow'ring thro' the world,
  To powder, paste, and pins, ungrateful grown,
  Thinks the full periwig is all her own;
  Proud of her conquering ringlets, onward goes,
  Nor thanks the barber, from whose hands she rose.

    Thus doth false pride fantastic minds mislead,
  And make our weaker sex seem weak indeed:
  Suppose, to prove this truth, in mirthful strain,
  We bring the _Dripping family_ again.--
  Papa, a tallow chandler by descent,
  Had read "how _larning_ is most excellent:"
  So Miss, returned from boarding school at Bow,
  Waits to be finished by Mama and Co.--
  "_See, spouse, how spruce our Nan is grown, and tall_;
  _I'll lay, she cuts a dash at Lord Mayor's ball_."--
  In bolts the maid--"_Ma'am! Miss's master's come_";--
  Away fly Ma' and Miss to dancing room--
  "_Walk in, Mounseer; come_, Nan, _draw up like me_."--
  "_Ma foi! Madame, Miss like you as two pea._"--
  Mounseer takes out his kit; the scene begins;
  Miss trusses up; my lady Mother grins;--
  "_Ma'amselle, me teach a you de step to tread_;
  _First turn you toe, den turn you littel head_;
  _One, two, dree, sinka, risa, balance; bon_,
  _Now entrechat, and now de cotillon_."
                             [Singing and dancing about.
  "_Pardieu, Ma'amselle be one enchanting girl_;
  _Me no surprise to see her ved an Earl_."--
  "_With all my heart," says Miss; "Mounseer, I'm ready_;
  _I dream'd last night, Ma, I should be a Lady_."

    Thus do the _Drippings_, all important grown,
  Expect to shine with lustre not their own;
  New airs are got; fresh graces, and fresh washes,
  New caps, new gauze, new feathers, and new sashes;
  Till just complete for conquest at Guildhall,
  Down comes an order to suspend the ball.
  Miss Shrieks, Ma' scolds, Pa' seems to have lost his tether;
  Caps, custards, coronets--all sink together--
  Papa resumes his jacket, dips away,
  And Miss lives single, till next Lord Mayor's day.

    If such the _sorrow_, and if such the strife,
  That break the comforts of domestic life,
  Look to the hero, who this night appears,
  Whose boundless excellence the World reveres;
  Who, friend to nature, by no blood confin'd,
  Is the glad relative of all mankind.




      *      *      *      *      *      *




Transcriber's note:


Contemporary spelling, hyphenation and punctuation (including
placement of apostrophes) have generally been retained even where
inconsistent.

The following changes were made to the text:


In ACT 1, Scene 1, the misspelling "underderstand" was corrected in
the speech:

     _Sir Luke._ _Politesse!_ how shou'd you understand what is
     real _politesse_?


In ACT 4, Scene 1, the misspelling "cant't" was corrected in the
speech:

     _Sir Luke._ And I can't say I wonder at your blushing.


In ACT 5, Scene 3, the misspelling "Lady Ter." was corrected in the
passage:

  _Lady Tre._ [_Without._] Where is the poor creature?

Shortly afterwards, in a speech by Haswell, the spelling "Aureila's"
was regularised as follows:

     (...) might I plead, Sir Luke, for your interest with
     Aurelia's friends (...)

In the speech by Sir Luke that follows, "you" was changed to "your" in
the passage:

     _Sir Luke._ As for that, Mr. Haswell, you have so much
     interest at court, that your taking the young man under your
     protection----



***