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diff --git a/old/4554.txt b/old/4554.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b814605 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/4554.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3289 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of Lover's Vows +by Mrs. Inchbald +(#2 in our series by Mrs. Inchbald) + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before distributing this or any other +Project Gutenberg file. + +We encourage you to keep this file, exactly as it is, on your +own disk, thereby keeping an electronic path open for future +readers. Please do not remove this. + +This header should be the first thing seen when anyone starts to +view the etext. 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Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.10/04/01*END* + + + + +This etext was provided by Kelly Hurt <KLHurt@yahoo.com>. + +Lovers Vows +A Play in Five Acts +by Mrs. Inchbald +from the German of Kotzebue + + + + + TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES: + +This e-text is taken from the 5th edition published in 1798. + +As the PREFACE. makes clear, "Lovers Vows." is not a direct translation +of Kotzebue's play "Child of Love" (sometimes known as "Natural Son"). + +In the printed text, when a character enters or exits, the name is +often in all CAPS. I retained this. + +In the original, some of the spoken words are emphasised by italics. +In the plaintext version I've created, I have used underscores (_) in +front of and behind the word/s that are italicized in the print copy. +An example: The _underscores_ indicate italicized text. + +The stage directions, actors in the DRAMATIS PERSONAE., and the +speakers' names were all italicized. I ignored that in the plaintext +version. + +In the HTML version I've created, I have used italics, centering, etc. +as they are used in the printed copy. For ease of reading, I have +placed the speakers' names in bold and skipped a line between speeches. + +I typed in the text and did the initial proofing and the HTML coding. +Further proofing done by family members Marlett Hurt and Kerry Siniard. + +Kelly Hurt +KLHurt@yahoo.com + + + + + + PREFACE. + +IT would appear like affectation to offer an apology for any scenes or +passages omitted or added, in this play, different from the original: +its reception has given me confidence to suppose what I have done is +right; for Kotzebue's "Child of Love" in Germany, was never more +attractive than "Lovers' Vows" has been in England. + +I could trouble my reader with many pages to disclose the motives which +induced me to alter, with the exception of a few common-place sentences +only, the characters of Count Cassel, Amelia, and Verdun the Butler--I +could explain why the part of the Count, as in the original, would +inevitably have condemned the whole Play,--I could inform my reader why +I have pourtrayed the Baron in many particulars different from the +German author, and carefully prepared the audience for the grand effect +of the last scene in the fourth act, by totally changing his conduct +towards his son as a robber--why I gave sentences of a humourous kind +to the parts of the two Cottagers--why I was compelled, on many +occasions, to compress the matter of a speech of three or four pages +into one of three or four lines--and why, in no one instance, I would +suffer my respect for Kotzebue to interfere with my profound respect +for the judgment of a British audience. But I flatter myself such a +vindication is not requisite to the enlightened reader, who, I trust, +on comparing this drama with the original, will at once see all my +motives--and the dull admirer of mere verbal translation, it would be +vain to endeavour to inspire with taste by instruction. + +Wholly unacquainted with the German language, a literal translation of +the "Child of Love" was given to me by the manager of Covent Garden +Theatre to be fitted, as my opinion should direct, for his stage. This +translation, tedious and vapid as most literal translations are, had +the peculiar disadvantage of having been put into our language by a +German--of course it came to me in broken English. It was no slight +misfortune to have an example of bad grammar, false metaphors and +similes, with all the usual errors of feminine diction, placed before a +female writer. But if, disdaining the construction of sentences,--the +precise decorum of the cold grammarian,--she has caught the spirit of +her author,--if, in every altered scene,--still adhering to the nice +propriety of his meaning, and still keeping in view his great +catastrophe,--she has agitated her audience with all the various +passions he depicted, the rigid criticism of the closet will be but a +slender abatement of the pleasure resulting from the sanction of an +applauding theatre. + +It has not been one of the least gratifications I have received from +the success of this play, that the original German, from which it is +taken, was printed in the year 1791; and yet, that during all the +period which has intervened, no person of talents or literary knowledge +(though there are in this country many of that description, who profess +to search for German dramas) has thought it worth employment to make a +translation of the work. I can only account for such an apparent +neglect of Kotzebue's "Child of Love," by the consideration of its +original unfitness for an English stage, and the difficulty of making +it otherwise--a difficulty which once appeared so formidable, that I +seriously thought I must have declined it even after I had proceeded +some length in the undertaking. + +Independently of objections to the character of the Count, the +dangerous insignificance of the Butler, in the original, embarrassed me +much. I found, if he was retained in the _Dramatis Personae_, +something more must be supplied than the author had assigned him: I +suggested the verses I have introduced; but not being blessed with the +Butler's happy art of rhyming, I am indebted for them, except the +seventh and eleventh stanzas in the first of his poetic stories, to the +author of the prologue. + +The part of Amelia has been a very particular object of my solicitude +and alteration: the same situations which the author gave her remain, +but almost all the dialogue of the character I have changed: the +forward and unequivocal manner in which she announces her affection to +her lover, in the original, would have been revolting to an English +audience: the passion of love, represented on the stage, is certain to +be insipid or disgusting, unless it creates smiles or tears: Amelia's +love, by Kotzebue, is indelicately blunt, and yet void of mirth or +sadness: I have endeavoured to attach the attention and sympathy of +the audience by whimsical insinuations, rather than coarse +abruptness--the same woman, I conceive, whom the author drew, with the +self-same sentiments, but with manners adapted to the English rather +than the German taste; and if the favour in which this character is +held by the audience, together with every sentence and incident which I +have presumed to introduce in the play, may be offered as the criterion +of my skill, I am sufficiently rewarded for the task I have performed. + +In stating the foregoing circumstances relating to this production, I +hope not to be suspected of arrogating to my own exertions only, the +popularity which has attended "The Child of Love," under the title of +"Lovers' Vows,"--the exertions of every performer engaged in the play +deservedly claim a share in its success; and I must sincerely thank +them for the high importance of their aid. + + + + + PROLOGUE. + + WRITTEN BY JOHN TAYLOR, ESQ. + + SPOKEN BY Mr. MURRAY. + +POETS have oft' declared, in doleful strain, +That o'er dramatic tracks they beat in vain, +Hopeless that novelty will spring to sight; +For life and nature are exhausted quite. +Though plaints like these have rung from age to age, +Too kind are writers to desert the stage; +And if they, fruitless, search for unknown prey, +At least they dress _old game a novel way_; +But such lamentings should be heard no more, +For modern taste turns Nature out of door; +Who ne'er again her former sway will boast, +Till, to complete her works, _she starts a ghost_. + If such the mode, what can we hope to-night, +Who rashly dare approach without a sprite? +No dreadful cavern, no midnight scream, +No rosin flames, nor e'en one flitting gleam. +Nought of the charms so potent to invite +The monstrous charms of terrible delight. +Our present theme the German Muse supplies, +But rather aims to soften than surprise. +Yet, with her woes she strives some smiles to blend, +Intent as well to cheer as to amend: +On her own native soil she knows the art +To charm the fancy, and to touch the heart. +If, then, she mirth and pathos can express, +Though less engaging in an English dress, +Let her from British hearts no peril fear, +But, as a STRANGER*, find a welcome here. + + * Hamlet. + ========= + DRAMATIS PERSONAE. + + MEN. + +BARON WILDENHAIM. . . . . Mr. Murray. +COUNT CASSEL. . . . . . . Mr. Knight. +ANHALT. . . . . . . . . . Mr. H. Johnston. +FREDERICK . . . . . . . . Mr. Pope. +VERDUN the BUTLER . . . . Mr. Munden. +LANDLORD. . . . . . . . . Mr. Thompson. +COTTAGER. . . . . . . . . Mr. Davenport. +FARMER. . . . . . . . . . Mr. Rees. +COUNTRYMAN. . . . . . . . Mr. Dyke. + Huntsmen, Servants, &c. + + WOMEN. + +AGATHA FRIBURG. . . . . . Mrs. Johnson. +AMELIA WILDENHAIM . . . . Mrs. H. Johnston. +COTTAGER'S WIFE . . . . . Mrs. Davenport. +COUNTRY GIRL. . . . . . . Miss Leserve. + +SCENE, Germany--Time of representation one day. + + + + ========= + LOVERS' VOWS + + ACT I. + + SCENE I. A high road, a town at a + distance--A small inn on one side of + the road--A cottage on the other. + + The LANDLORD of the inn leads + AGATHA by the hand out of his house. + +LANDLORD. No, no! no room for you any longer--It is the fair to-day +in the next village; as great a fair as any in the German dominions. +The country people with their wives and children take up every corner +we have. + +AGATHA. You will turn a poor sick woman out of doors who has spent her +last farthing in your house. + +LANDLORD. For that very reason; because she _has_ spent her last +farthing. + +AGATHA. I can work. + +LANDLORD. You can hardly move your hands. + +AGATHA. My strength will come again. + +LANDLORD. Then _you_ may come again. + +AGATHA. What am I to do? Where shall I go? + +LANDLORD. It is fine weather--you may go any where. + +AGATHA. Who will give me a morsel of bread to satisfy my hunger? + +LANDLORD. Sick people eat but little. + +AGATHA. Hard, unfeeling man, have pity. + +LANDLORD. When times are hard, pity is too expensive for a poor man. +Ask alms of the different people that go by. + +AGATHA. Beg! I would rather starve. + +LANDLORD. You may beg and starve too. What a fine lady you are! Many +an honest woman has been obliged to beg. Why should not you? [Agatha +sits down upon a large stone under a tree.] For instance, here comes +somebody; and I will teach you how to begin. [A Countryman, with +working tools, crosses the road.] Good day, neighbour Nicholas. + +COUNTRYMAN. Good day. [Stops.] + +LANDLORD. Won't you give a trifle to this poor woman? [Countryman +takes no notice, but walks off.] That would not do--the poor man has +nothing himself but what he gets by hard labour. Here comes a rich +farmer; perhaps he will give you something. + + Enter FARMER. + +LANDLORD. Good morning to you, Sir. Under yon tree sits a poor woman +in distress, who is in need of your charity. + +FARMER. Is she not ashamed of herself? Why don't she work? + +LANDLORD. She has had a fever.--If you would but pay for one dinner-- + +FARMER. The harvest has been indifferent, and my cattle and sheep have +suffered distemper. [Exit. + +LANDLORD. My fat, smiling face was not made for begging: you'll have +more luck with your thin, sour one--so, I'll leave you to yourself. +[Exit. + + [Agatha rises and comes forward.] + +AGATHA. Oh Providence! thou hast till this hour protected me, and +hast given me fortitude not to despair. Receive my humble thanks, and +restore me to health, for the sake of my poor son, the innocent cause +of my sufferings, and yet my only comfort. [kneeling] Oh, grant that +I may see him once more! See him improved in strength of mind and +body; and that by thy gracious mercy he may never be visited with +afflictions great as mine. [After a pause] Protect his father too, +merciful Providence, and pardon his crime of perjury to me! Here, in +the face of heaven (supposing my end approaching, and that I can but a +few days longer struggle with want and sorrow), here, I solemnly +forgive my seducer for all the ills, the accumulated evils which his +allurements, his deceit, and cruelty, have for twenty years past drawn +upon me. + + Enter a COUNTRY GIRL with a basket. + +AGATHA [near fainting]. My dear child, if you could spare me a trifle-- + +GIRL. I have not a farthing in the world--But I am going to market to +sell my eggs, and as I come back I'll give you three-pence--And I'll be +back as soon as ever I can. [Exit. + +AGATHA. There was a time when I was as happy as this country girl, and +as willing to assist the poor in distress. [Retires to the tree and +sits down.] + + Enter FREDERICK--He is dressed in a German + soldier's uniform, has a knapsack on + his shoulders, appears in high spirits, + and stops at the door of the inn. + +FREDERICK. Halt! Stand at ease! It is a very hot day--A draught of +good wine will not be amiss. But first let me consult my purse. +[Takes out a couple of pieces of money, which he turns about in his +hand.] This will do for a breakfast--the other remains for my dinner; +and in the evening I shall be home. [Calls out] Ha! Halloo! +Landlord! [Takes notice of Agatha, who is leaning against the tree.] +Who is that? A poor sick woman! She don't beg; but her appearance +makes me think she is in want. Must one always wait to give till one +is asked? Shall I go without my breakfast now, or lose my dinner? The +first I think is best. Ay, I don't want a breakfast, for dinner time +will soon be here. To do good satisfies both hunger and thirst. +[Going towards her with the money in his hand.] Take this, good woman. + + [She stretches her hand for the gift, + looks steadfastly at him, + and cries out with astonishment and joy.] + +AGATHA. Frederick! + +FREDERICK. Mother! [With astonishment and grief.] Mother! For God's +sake what is this! How is this! And why do I find my mother thus? +Speak! + +AGATHA. I cannot speak, dear son! [Rising and embracing him.] My +dear Frederick! The joy is too great--I was not prepared-- + +FREDERICK. Dear mother, compose yourself: [leans her against his +breast] now, then, be comforted. How she trembles! She is fainting. + +AGATHA. I am so weak, and my head so giddy--I had nothing to eat all +yesterday. + +FREDERICK. Good heavens! Here is my little money, take it all! Oh +mother! mother! [Runs to the inn]. Landlord! Landlord! [knocking +violently at the door.] + +LANDLORD. What is the matter? + +FREDERICK. A bottle of wine--quick, quick! + +LANDLORD [surprised]. A bottle of wine! For who? + +FREDERICK. For me. Why do you ask? Why don't you make haste? + +LANDLORD. Well, well, Mr. soldier: but can you pay for it? + +FREDERICK. Here is money--make haste, or I'll break every window in +your house. + +LANDLORD. Patience! Patience! [goes off. + +FREDERICK [to Agatha]. You were hungry yesterday when I sat down to a +comfortable dinner. You were hungry when I partook of a good supper. +Oh! Why is so much bitter mixed with the joy of my return? + +AGATHA. Be patient, my dear Frederick. Since I see you, I am well. +But I _have been_ ill: so ill, that I despaired of ever beholding you +again. + +FREDERICK. Ill, and I was not with you? I will, now, never leave you +more. Look, mother, how tall and strong I am grown. There arms can +now afford you support. They can, and shall, procure you subsistence. + + [Landlord coming out of the house + with a small pitcher.] + +LANDLORD. Here is wine--a most delicious nectar. [Aside.] It is only +Rhenish; but it will pass for the best old Hock. + +FREDERICK [impatiently snatching the pitcher]. Give it me. + +LANDLORD. No, no--the money first. One shilling and two-pence, if you +please. + + [Frederick gives him money.] + +FREDERICK. This is all I have.--Here, here, mother. + + [While she drinks Landlord counts the money.] + +LANDLORD. Three halfpence too short! However, one must be charitable. + [Exit Landlord. + +AGATHA. I thank you, my dear Frederick--Wine revives me--Wine from the +hand of my son gives me almost a new life. + +FREDERICK. Don't speak too much, mother.--Take your time. + +AGATHA. Tell me, dear child, how you have passed the five years since +you left me. + +FREDERICK. Both good and bad, mother. To day plenty--to-morrow not so +much--And sometimes nothing at all. + +AGATHA. You have not written to me this long while. + +FREDERICK. Dear mother, consider the great distance I was from +you!--And then, in the time of war, how often letters +miscarry.--Besides ---- + +AGATHA. No matter now I see you. But have you obtained your discharge? + +FREDERICK. Oh, no, mother--I have leave of absence only for two +months; and that for a particular reason. But I will not quit you so +soon, now I find you are in want of my assistance. + +AGATHA. No, no, Frederick; your visit will make me so well, that I +shall in a very short time recover strength to work again; and you must +return to your regiment when your furlough is expired. But you told me +leave of absence was granted you for a particular reason.--What reason? + +FREDERICK. When I left you five years ago, you gave me every thing you +could afford, and all you thought would be necessary for me. But one +trifle you forgot, which was, the certificate of my birth from the +church-book.--You know in this country there is nothing to be done +without it. At the time of parting from you, I little thought it could +be of that consequence to me which I have since found it would have +been. Once I became tired of a soldier's life, and in the hope I +should obtain my discharge, offered myself to a master to learn a +profession; but his question was, "Where is your certificate from the +church-book of the parish in which you were born?" It vexed me that I +had not it to produce, for my comrades laughed at my disappointment. +My captain behaved kinder, for he gave me leave to come home to fetch +it--and you see, mother, here I am. + + [During this speech Agatha + is confused and agitated. + +AGATHA. So, you are come for the purpose of fetching your certificate +from the church-book. + +FREDERICK. Yes, mother. + +AGATHA. Oh! oh! + +FREDERICK. What is the matter? [She bursts into tears.] For heaven's +sake, mother, tell me what's the matter? + +AGATHA. You have no certificate. + +FREDERICK. No! + +AGATHA. No.--The laws of Germany excluded you from being registered at +your birth--for--you are a natural son! + +FREDERICK [starts--after a pause]. So!--And who is my father? + +AGATHA. Oh Frederick, your wild looks are daggers to my heart. +Another time. + +FREDERICK [endeavouring to conceal his emotion]. No, no--I am still +your son--and you are still my mother. Only tell me, who is my father? + +AGATHA. When we parted five years ago, you were too young to be +intrusted with a secret of so much importance.--But the time is come +when I can, in confidence, open my heart, and unload that burthen with +which it has been long oppressed. And yet, to reveal my errors to my +child, and sue for his mild judgment on my conduct ---- + +FREDERICK. You have nothing to sue for; only explain this mystery. + +AGATHA. I will, I will. But--my tongue is locked with remorse and +shame. You must not look at me. + +FREDERICK. Not look at you! Cursed be that son who could find his +mother guilty, although the world should call her so. + +AGATHA. Then listen to me, and take notice of that village, [pointing] +of that castle, and of that church. In that village I was born--in +that church I was baptized. My parents were poor, but reputable +farmers.--The lady of that castle and estate requested them to let me +live with her, and she would provide for me through life. They +resigned me; and at the age of fourteen I went to my patroness. She +took pleasure to instruct me in all kinds of female literature and +accomplishments, and three happy years had passed under protection, +when her only son, who was an officer in the Saxon service, obtained +permission to come home. I had never seen him before--he was a +handsome young man--in my eyes a prodigy; for he talked of love, and +promised me marriage. He was the first man who ever spoken to me on +such a subject.--His flattery made me vain, and his repeated +vows--Don't look at me, dear Frederick!--I can say no more. [Frederick +with his eyes cast down, takes her hand, and puts it to his heart.] +Oh! oh! my son! I was intoxicated by the fervent caresses of a young, +inexperienced, capricious man, and did not recover from the delirium +till it was too late. + +FREDERICK [after a pause]. Go on.--Let me know more of my father. + +AGATHA. When the time drew near that I could no longer conceal my +guilt and shame, my seducer prevailed upon me not to expose him to the +resentment of his mother. He renewed his former promises of marriage +at her death;--on which relying, I gave him my word to be secret--and I +have to this hour buried his name deep in my heart. + +FREDERICK. Proceed, proceed! give me full information--I will have +courage to hear it all. [Greatly agitated.] + +AGATHA. His leave of absence expired, he returned to his regiment, +depending on my promise, and well assured of my esteem. As soon as my +situation became known, I was questioned, and received many severe +reproaches: But I refused to confess who was my undoer; and for that +obstinacy was turned from the castle.--I went to my parents; but their +door was shut against me. My mother, indeed, wept as she bade me quit +her sight for ever; but my father wished increased affliction might +befall me. + +FREDERICK [weeping]. Be quick with your narrative, or you'll break my +heart. + +AGATHA. I now sought protection from the old clergyman of the parish. +He received me with compassion. On my knees I begged forgiveness for +the scandal I had caused to his parishioners; promised amendment; and +he said he did not doubt me. Through his recommendation I went to +town; and hid in humble lodgings, procured the means of subsistence by +teaching to the neighbouring children what I had learnt under the +tuition of my benefactress.---To instruct you, my Frederick, was my +care and delight; and in return for your filial love I would not thwart +your wishes when they led to a soldier's life: but my health declined, +I was compelled to give up my employment, and, by degrees, became the +object you now see me. But, let me add, before I close my calamitous +story, that--when I left the good old clergyman, taking along with me +his kind advice and his blessing, I left him with a firm determination +to fulfil the vow I had made of repentance and amendment. I _have_ +fulfilled it--and now, Frederick, you may look at me again. [He +embraces her.] + +FREDERICK. But my father all this time? [mournfully] I apprehend he +died. + +AGATHA. No--he married. + +FREDERICK. Married! + +AGATHA. A woman of virtue--of noble birth and immense fortune. Yet, +[weeps] I had written to him many times; had described your infant +innocence and wants; had glanced obliquely at former promises-- + +FREDERICK [rapidly]. No answer to these letters? + +AGATHA. Not a word.--But in time of war, you know, letters miscarry. + +FREDERICK. Nor did he ever return to this estate? + +AGATHA. No--since the death of his mother this castle has only been +inhabited by servants--for he settled as far off as Alsace, upon the +estate of his wife. + +FREDERICK. I will carry you in my arms to Alsace. No--why should I +ever know my father, if he is a villain! My heart is satisfied with a +mother.--No--I will not go to him. I will not disturb his peace--O +leave that task to his conscience. What say you, mother, can't we do +without him? [Struggling between tears and his pride.] We don't want +him. I will write directly to my captain. Let the consequence be what +it will, leave you again I cannot. Should I be able to get my +discharge, I will work all day at the plough, and all the night with my +pen. It will do, mother, it will do! Heaven's goodness will assist +me--it will prosper the endeavours of a dutiful son for the sake of a +helpless mother. + +AGATHA [presses him to her breast]. Where could be found such another +son? + +FREDERICK. But tell me my father's name, that I may know how to shun +him. + +AGATHA. Baron Wildenhaim. + +FREDERICK. Baron Wildenhaim! I shall never forget it.--Oh! you are +near fainting. Your eyes are cast down. What's the matter? Speak, +mother! + +AGATHA. Nothing particular.--Only fatigued with talking. I wish to +take a little rest. + +FREDERICK. I did not consider that we have been all this time in the +open road. [Goes to the Inn, and knocks at the door.] Here, Landlord! + + LANDLORD re-enters. + +LANDLORD. Well, what is the matter now? + +FREDERICK. Make haste, and get a bed ready for this good woman. + +LANDLORD [with a sneer]. A bed for this good woman! ha, ha ha! She +slept last night in that pent-house; so she may to-night. [Exit, +shutting door. + +FREDERICK. You are an infamous--[goes back to his mother] Oh! my +poor mother--[runs to the Cottage at a little distance, and knocks]. +Ha! hallo! Who is there? + + Enter COTTAGER. + +COTTAGER. Good day, young soldier.--What is it you want? + +FREDERICK. Good friend, look at that poor woman. She is perishing in +the public road! It is my mother.--Will you give her a small corner in +your hut? I beg for mercy's sake--Heaven will reward you. + +COTTAGER. Can't you speak quietly? I understand you very well. +[Calls at the door of the hut.] Wife, shake up our bed--here's a poor +sick woman wants it. [Enter WIFE]. Why could not you say all this in +fewer words? Why such a long preamble? Why for mercy's sake, and +heaven's reward? Why talk about reward for such trifles as these? +Come, let us lead her in; and welcome she shall be to a bed, as good as +I can give her; and our homely fare. + +FREDERICK. Ten thousand thanks, and blessings on you! + +WIFE. Thanks and blessings! here's a piece of work indeed about +nothing! Good sick lady, lean on my shoulder. [To Frederick] Thanks +and reward indeed! Do you think husband and I have lived to these +years, and don't know our duty? Lean on my shoulder. [Exeunt into the +Cottage. + + END ACT I. + + + + + ACT II. + + SCENE I. A room in the cottage. + + AGATHA, COTTAGER, his WIFE, and + FREDERICK discovered--AGATHA + reclined upon a wooden bench, + FREDERICK leaning over her. + +FREDERICK. Good people have you nothing to give her? Nothing that's +nourishing. + +WIFE. Run, husband, run, and fetch a bottle of wine from the landlord +of the inn. + +FREDERICK. No, no--his wine is as bad as his heart: she has drank +some of it, which I am afraid has turned to poison. + +COTTAGER. Suppose, wife, you look for a new-laid egg? + +WIFE. Or a drop of brandy, husband--that mostly cures me. + +FREDERICK. Do you hear, mother--will you, mother? [Agatha makes a +sign with her hand as if she could not take any thing.] She will not. +Is there no doctor in this neighbourhood? + +WIFE. At the end of the village there lives a horse-doctor. I have +never heard of any other. + +FREDERICK. What shall I do? She is dying. My mother is dying.--Pray +for her, good people! + +AGATHA. Make yourself easy, dear Frederick, I am well, only weak--Some +wholesome nourishment-- + +FREDERICK. Yes, mother, directly--directly. [Aside] Oh where shall +I--no money--not a farthing left. + +WIFE. Oh, dear me! Had you not paid the rent yesterday, husband-- + +COTTAGER. I then, should know what to do. But as I hope for mercy, I +have not a penny in my house. + +FREDERICK. Then I must--[Apart, coming forward]--Yes, I will go, and +beg.--But should I be refused--I will then--I leave my mother in your +care, good people--Do all you can for her, I beseech you! I shall soon +be with you again. [Goes off in haste and confusion.] + +COTTAGER. If he should go to our parson, I am sure he would give him +something. + + [Agatha having revived by + degrees during the scene, rises.] + +AGATHA. Is that good old man still living, who was minister here some +time ago? + +WIFE. No--It pleased Providence to take that worthy man to heaven two +years ago.--We have lost in him both a friend and a father. We shall +never get such another. + +COTTAGER. Wife, wife, our present rector is likewise a very good man. + +WIFE. Yes! But he is so very young. + +COTTAGER. Our late parson was once young too. + +WIFE [to Agatha.] This young man being tutor in our Baron's family, he +was very much beloved by them all; and so the Baron gave him this +living in consequence. + +COTTAGER. And well he deserved it, for his pious instructions to our +young lady: who is, in consequence, good, and friendly to every body. + +AGATHA. What young lady do you mean? + +COTTAGER. Our Baron's daughter. + +AGATHA. Is she here? + +WIFE. Dear me! Don't you know that? I thought every body had known +that. It is almost five weeks since the Baron and all his family +arrived at the castle. + +AGATHA. Baron Wildenhaim? + +WIFE. Yes, Baron Wildenhaim. + +AGATHA. And his lady? + +COTTAGER. His lady died in France many miles from hence, and her +death, I suppose, was the cause of his coming to this estate--For the +Baron has not been here till within these five weeks ever since he was +married. We regretted his absence much, and his arrival has caused +great joy. + +WIFE [addressing her discourse to Agatha.] By all accounts the +Baroness was very haughty; and very whimsical. + +COTTAGER. Wife, wife, never speak ill of the dead. Say what you +please against the living, but not a word against the dead. + +WIFE. And yet, husband, I believe the dead care the least what is said +against them--And so, if you please, I'll tell my story. The late +Baroness was, they say, haughty and proud; and they do say, the Baron +was not so happy as he might have been; but he, bless him, our good +Baron is still the same as when a boy. Soon after Madam had closed her +eyes, he left France, and came to Waldenhaim, his native country. + +COTTAGER. Many times has he joined in our village dances. Afterwards, +when he became an officer, he was rather wild, as most young men are. + +WIFE. Yes, I remember when he fell in love with poor Agatha, Friburg's +daughter: what a piece of work that was--It did not do him much +credit. That was a wicked thing. + +COTTAGER. Have done--no more of this--It is not well to stir up old +grievances. + +WIFE. Why, you said I might speak ill of the living. 'Tis very hard +indeed, if one must not speak ill of one's neighbours, dead, nor alive. + +COTTAGER. Who knows whether he was the father of Agatha's child? She +never said he was. + +WIFE. Nobody but him--that I am sure--I would lay a wager--no, no +husband--you must not take his part--it was very wicked! Who knows +what is now become of that poor creature? She has not been heard of +this many a year. May be she is starving for hunger. Her father might +have lived longer too, if that misfortune had not happened. + + [Agatha faints.] + +COTTAGER. See here! Help! She is fainting--take hold! + +WIFE. Oh, poor woman! + +COTTAGER. Let us take her into the next room. + +WIFE. Oh poor woman!--I am afraid she will not live. Come, chear up, +chear up.--You are with those who feel for you. [They lead her off.] + + ========== + SCENE II. An apartment in the Castle. + + A table spread for breakfast--Several + servants in livery disposing the + equipage--BARON WILDENHAIM enters, + attended by a GENTLEMAN in waiting. + +BARON. Has not Count Cassel left his chamber yet? + +GENTLEMAN. No, my lord, he has but now rung for his valet. + +BARON. The whole castle smells of his perfumery. Go, call my daughter +hither. [Exit Gentleman.] And am I after all to have an ape for a +son-in-law? No, I shall not be in a hurry--I love my daughter too +well. We must be better acquainted before I give her to him. I shall +not sacrifice my Amelia to the will of others, as I myself was +sacrificed. The poor girl might, in thoughtlessness, say yes, and +afterwards be miserable. What a pity she is not a boy! The name of +Wildenhaim will die with me. My fine estates, my good peasants, all +will fall into the hands of strangers. Oh! why was not my Amelia a +boy? + + Enter AMELIA--[She kisses the Baron's hand.] + +AMELIA. Good morning, dear my lord. + +BARON. Good morning, Amelia. Have you slept well? + +AMELIA. Oh! yes, papa. I always sleep well. + +BARON. Not a little restless last night? + +AMELIA. No. + +BARON. Amelia, you know you have a father who loves you, and I believe +you know you have a suitor who is come to ask permission to love you. +Tell me candidly how you like Count Cassel? + +AMELIA. Very well. + +BARON. Do not you blush when I talk of him? + +AMELIA. No. + +BARON. No--I am sorry for that. aside] Have you dreamt of him? + +AMELIA. No. + +BARON. Have you not dreamt at all to-night? + +AMELIA. Oh yes--I have dreamt of our chaplain, Mr. Anhalt. + +BARON. Ah ha! As if he stood before you and the Count to ask for the +ring. + +AMELIA. No: not that--I dreamt we were all still in France, and he, +my tutor, just going to take his leave of us for ever--I 'woke with the +fright, and found my eyes full of tears. + +BARON. Psha! I want to know if you can love the Count. You saw him +at the last ball we were at in France: when he capered round you; when +he danced minuets; when he----. But I cannot say what his conversation +was. + +AMELIA. Nor I either--I do not remember a syllable of it. + +BARON. No? Then I do not think you like him. + +AMELIA. I believe not. + +BARON. But I think it proper to acquaint you he is rich, and of great +consequence: rich and of consequence; do you hear? + +AMELIA. Yes, dear papa. But my tutor has always told me that birth +and fortune are inconsiderable things, and cannot give happiness. + +BARON. There he is right--But of it happens that birth and fortune are +joined with sense and virtue ---- + +AMELIA. But is it so with Count Cassel? + +BARON. Hem! Hem! Aside.] I will ask you a few questions on this +subject; but be sure to answer me honestly--Speak truth. + +AMELIA. I never told an untruth in my life. + +BARON. Nor ever _conceal_ the truth from me, I command you. + +AMELIA. [Earnestly.] Indeed, my lord, I never will. + +BARON. I take you at your word--And now reply to me truly--Do you like +to hear the Count spoken of? + +AMELIA. Good, or bad? + +BARON. Good. Good. + +AMELIA. Oh yes; I like to here good of every body. + +BARON. But do not you feel a little fluttered when he is talked of? + +AMELIA. No. [shaking her head.] + +BARON. Are not you a little embarrassed? + +AMELIA. No. + +BARON. Don't you wish sometimes to speak to him, and have not the +courage to begin? + +AMELIA. No. + +BARON. Do not you wish to take his part when his companions laugh at +him? + +AMELIA. No--I love to laugh at him myself. + +BARON. Provoking! Aside.] Are not you afraid of him when he comes +near you? + +AMELIA. No, not at all.--Oh yes--once. [recollecting herself.] + +BARON. Ah! Now it comes! + +AMELIA. Once at a ball he trod on my foot; and I was so afraid he +should tread on me again. + +BARON. You put me out of patience. Hear, Amelia! [stops short, and +speaks softer. To see you happy is my wish. But matrimony, without +concord, is like a duetto badly performed; for that reason, nature, the +great composer of all harmony, has ordained, that, when bodies are +allied, hearts should be in perfect unison. However, I will send Mr. +Anhalt to you ---- + +AMELIA [much pleased]. Do, papa. + +BARON. --He shall explain to you my sentiments. [Rings.] A clergyman +can do this better than----[Enter servant.] Go directly to Mr. Anhalt, +tell him that I shall be glad to see him for a quarter of an hour if he +is not engaged. [Exit servant. + +AMELIA [calls after him]. Wish him a good morning from me. + +BARON [looking at his watch]. The Count is a tedious time +dressing.--Have you breakfasted, Amelia? + +AMELIA. No, papa. [they sit down to breakfast.] + +BARON. How is the weather? Have you walked this morning? + +AMELIA. Oh, yes--I was in the garden at five o'clock; it is very fine. + +BARON. Then I'll go out shooting. I do not know in what other way to +amuse my guest. + + Enter Count CASSEL. + +COUNT. Ah, my dear Colonel! Miss Wildenhaim, I kiss your hand. + +BARON. Good morning! Good morning! though it is late in the day, +Count. In the country we should rise earlier. + + [Amelia offers the Count a Cup of tea.] + +COUNT. Is it Hebe herself, or Venus, or ---- + +AMELIA. Ha, ha, ha! Who can help laughing at his nonsense? + +BARON [rather angry]. Neither Venus, nor Hebe; but Amelia Wildenhaim, +if you please. + +COUNT [Sitting down to breakfast]. You are beautiful, Miss +Wildenhaim.--Upon my honour, I think so. I have travelled, and seen +much of the world, and yet I can positively admire you. + +COUNT. Wherefore? + +AMELIA. Because I might then, perhaps, admire you. + +COUNT. True;--for I am an epitome of the world. In my travels I learnt +delicacy in Italy--hauteur, in Spain--in France, enterprize--in Russia, +prudence--in England, sincerity--in Scotland, frugality--and in the +wilds of America, I learnt love. + +AMELIA. Is there any country where love is taught? + +COUNT. In all barbarous countries. But the whole system is exploded in +places that are civilized. + +AMELIA. And what is substituted in its stead? + +COUNT. Intrigue. + +AMELIA. What a poor, uncomfortable substitute! + +COUNT. There are other things--Song, dance, the opera, and war. + + [Since the entrance of the Count the Baron +has removed to a + table at a little distance. + +BARON. What are you talking of there? + +COUNT. Of war, Colonel. + +BARON [rising]. Ay, we like to talk on what we don't understand. + +COUNT [rising]. Therefore, to a lady, I always speak of politics; and +to her father, on love. + +BARON. I believe, Count, notwithstanding your sneer, I am still as +much a proficient in that art as yourself. + +COUNT. I do not doubt it, my dear Colonel, for you are a soldier: and +since the days of Alexander, whoever conquers men is certain to +overcome women. + +BARON. An achievement to animate a poltroon. + +COUNT. And, I verily believe, gains more recruits than the king's pay. + +BARON. Now we are on the subject of arms, should you like to go out a +shooting with me for an hour before dinner? + +COUNT. Bravo, Colonel! A charming thought! This will give me an +opportunity to use my elegant gun: the but is inlaid with +mother-of-pearl. You cannot find better work, or better taste.--Even my +coat of arms is engraved. + +BARON. But can you shoot? + +COUNT. That I have never tried--except, with my eyes, at a fine woman. + +BARON. I am not particular what game I pursue.--I have an old gun; it +does not look fine; But I can always bring down my bird. + + Enter SERVANT. + +SERVANT. Mr. Anhalt begs leave---- + +BARON. Tell him to come in.--I shall be ready in a moment. [Exit +Servant. + +COUNT. Who is Mr. Anhalt? + +AMELIA. Oh, a very good man. [With warmth.] + +COUNT. "A good man." In Italy, that means a religious man; in France, +it means a cheerful man; in Spain, it means a wise man; and in England, +it means a rich man.--Which good of all these is Mr. Anhalt? + +AMELIA. A good man in every country, except England. + +COUNT. And give me the English good man, before that of any other +nation. + +BARON. And of what nation would you prefer your good woman to be, +Count? + +COUNT. Of Germany. [bowing to Amelia.] + +AMELIA. In compliment to me? + +COUNT. In justice to my own judgment. + +BARON. Certainly. For have we not an instance of one German woman, who +possesses every virtue that ornaments the whole sex; whether as a woman +of illustrious rank, or in the more exalted character of a wife, and +mother? + + Enter Mr. ANHALT. + +ANHALT. I come by your command, Baron---- + +BARON. Quick, Count.--Get your elegant gun.--I pass your apartments, +and will soon call for you. + +COUNT. I fly.--Beautiful Amelia, it is a sacrifice I make to your +father, that I leave for a few hours his amiable daughter. [Exit.] + +BARON. My dear Amelia, I think it scarcely necessary to speak to Mr. +Anhalt, or that he should speak to you, on the subject of the Count; +but as he is here, leave us alone. + +AMELIA [as she retires]. Good morning, Mr. Anhalt.--I hope you are +very well. [Exit.] + +BARON. I'll tell you in a few words why I sent for you. Count Cassel +is here, and wishes to marry my daughter. + +ANHALT [much concerned]. Really! + +BARON. He is--he--in a word I don't like him. + +ANHALT [with emotion]. And Miss Wildenhaim ---- + +BARON. I shall not command, neither persuade her to the marriage--I +know too well the fatal influence of parents on such a subject. +Objections to be sure, if they could be removed--But when you find a +man's head without brains, and his bosom without a heart, these are +important articles to supply. Young as you are, Anhalt, I know no one +so able to restore, or to bestow those blessings on his +fellow-creatures, as you. [Anhalt bows.] The Count wants a little of my +daughter's simplicity and sensibility.--Take him under your care while +he is here, and make him something like yourself.--You have succeeded +to my wish in the education of my daughter.--Form the Count after your +own manner.--I shall then have what I have sighed for all my life--a +son. + +ANHALT. With your permission, Baron, I will ask one question. What +remains to interest you in favour of a man, whose head and heart are +good for nothing? + +BARON. Birth and fortune. Yet, if I thought my daughter absolutely +disliked him, or that she loved another, I would not thwart a first +affection;-- no, for the world, I would not. [sighing.] But that her +affections are already bestowed, is not probable. + +ANHALT. Are you of opinion that she will never fall in love? + +BARON. Oh! no. I am of opinion that no woman ever arrived at the age +of twenty without that misfortune.--But this is another subject.--Go to +Amelia--explain to her the duties of a wife and of a mother.--If she +comprehends them, as she ought, then ask her if she thinks she could +fulfil those duties, as the wife of Count Cassel. + +ANHALT. I will.--But--I--Miss Wildenhaim--[confused. I--I shall--I--I +shall obey your commands. + +BARON. Do so. [gives a deep sigh. Ah! so far this weight is +removed; but there lies still a heavier next my heart.--You understand +me.--How is it, Mr. Anhalt? Have you not yet been able to make any +discoveries on that unfortunate subject? + +ANHALT. I have taken infinite pains; but in vain. No such person is +to be found. + +BARON. Believe me, this burthen presses on my thoughts so much, that +many nights I go without sleep. A man is sometimes tempted to commit +such depravity when young.--Oh, Anhalt! had I, in my youth, had you +for a tutor;--but I had no instructor but my passions; no governor but +my own will. [Exit. + +ANHALT. This commission of the Baron's in respect to his daughter, I +am--[looks about]--If I shou'd meet her now, I cannot--I must recover +myself first, and then prepare.--A walk in the fields, and a fervent +prayer--After these, I trust, I shall return, as a man whose views are +solely placed on a future world; all hopes in this, with fortitude +resigned. [Exit. + + END ACT II. + + + + + ACT III. + + SCENE I. An open Field. + + FREDERICK alone, with a few pieces + of money which he turns about in his hands. + +FREDERICK. To return with this trifle for which I have stooped to beg! + return to see my mother dying! I would rather fly to the world's end. + [Looking at the money.] What can I buy with this? It is hardly +enough to pay for the nails that will be wanted for her coffin. My +great anxiety will drive me to distraction. However, let the +consequence of our affliction be what it may, all will fall upon my +father's head; and may he pant for Heaven's forgiveness, as my poor +mother ---- [At a distance is heard the firing of a gun, then the cry +of Hallo, Hallo--Gamekeepers and Sportsmen run across the stage--he +looks about.] Here they come--a nobleman, I suppose, or a man of +fortune. Yes, yes--and I will once more beg for my mother.--May Heaven +send relief! + + Enter the BARON followed slowly + by the COUNT. The BARON stops. + +BARON. Quick, quick, Count! Aye, aye, that was a blunder indeed. +Don't you see the dogs? There they run--they have lost the scent. +[Exit Baron looking after the dogs. + +COUNT. So much the better, Colonel, for I must take a little breath. +[He leans on his gun--Frederick goes up to him with great modesty.] + +FREDERICK. Gentleman, I beg you will bestow from your superfluous +wants something to relieve the pain, and nourish the weak frame, of an +expiring woman. + + The BARON re-enters. + +COUNT. What police is here! that a nobleman's amusements should be +interrupted by the attack of vagrants. + +FREDERICK [to the Baron]. Have pity, noble Sir, and relieve the +distress of an unfortunate son, who supplicates for his dying mother. + +BARON [taking out his purse]. I think, young soldier, it would be +better if you were with your regiment on duty, instead of begging. + +FREDERICK. I would with all my heart: but at this present moment my +sorrows are too great.--[Baron gives something.] I entreat your +pardon. What you have been so good as to give me is not enough. + +BARON [surprised]. Not enough! + +FREDERICK. No, it is not enough. + +COUNT. The most singular beggar I ever met in all my travels. + +FREDERICK. If you have a charitable heart, give me one dollar. + +BARON. This is the first time I was ever dictated by a beggar what to +give him. + +FREDERICK. With one dollar you will save a distracted man. + +BARON. I don't choose to give any more. Count, go on. + + [Exit Count--as the Baron follows, + Frederick seizes him by the + breast and draws his sword.] + +FREDERICK. Your purse, or your life. + +BARON [calling]. Here! here! seize and secure him. + + [Some of the Gamekeepers run on, + lay hold of Frederick, and disarm him.] + +FREDERICK. What have I done! + +BARON. Rake him to the castle, and confine him in one of the towers. +I shall follow you immediately. + +FREDERICK. One favour I have to beg, one favour only.--I know that I +am guilty, and am ready to receive the punishment my crime deserves. +But I have a mother, who is expiring for want--pity her, if you cannot +pity me--bestow on her relief. If you will send to yonder hut, you +will find that I do not impose on you a falsehood. For her it was I +drew my sword--for her I am ready to die. + +BARON. Take him away, and imprison him where I told you. + +FREDERICK [as he is forced off by the keepers]. Woe to that man to +whom I owe my birth! [Exit. + +BARON [calls another Keeper]. Here, Frank, run directly to yonder +hamlet, inquire in the first, second, and third cottage for a poor sick +woman--and if you really find such a person, give her this purse. +[Exit Gamekeeper.] + +BARON. A most extraordinary event!--and what a well-looking youth! +something in his countenance and address which struck me +inconceivably!--If it is true that he begged for his mother--But if he +did----for the attempt upon my life, he must die. Vice is never half +so dangerous, as when it assumes the garb of morality. [Exit.] + ====== + SCENE II. A room in the Castle. + +AMELIA [alone.] Why am I so uneasy; so peevish; who has offended me? +I did not mean to come into this room. In the garden I intended to go +[going, turns back]. No, I will not--yes, I will--just go, and look if +my auriculas are still in blossom; and if the apple tree is grown which +Mr. Anhalt planted.--I feel very low-spirited--something must be the +matter.--Why do I cry?--Am I not well? + + Enter Mr. ANHALT. + +Ah! good morning, my dear Sir--Mr. Anhalt, I meant to say--I beg pardon. + +ANHALT. Never mind, Miss Wildenhaim--I don't dislike to hear you call +me as you did. + +AMELIA. In earnest? + +ANHALT. Really. You have been crying. May I know the reason? The +loss of your mother, still?-- + +AMELIA. No--I have left off crying for her. + +ANHALT. I beg pardon if I have come at an improper hour; but I wait +upon you by the commands of your father. + +AMELIA. You are welcome at all hours. My father has more than once +told me that he who forms my mind I should always consider as my +greatest benefactor. [looking down] And my heart tells me the same. + +ANHALT. I think myself amply rewarded by the good opinion you have of +me. + +AMELIA. When I remember what trouble I have sometimes given you, I +cannot be too grateful. + +ANHALT [to himself]. Oh! Heavens!--[to Amelia]. I--I come from your +father with a commission.--If you please, we will sit down. [He places +chairs, and they sit.] Count Cassel is arrived. + +AMELIA. Yes, I know. + +ANHALT. And do you know for what reason? + +AMELIA. He wishes to marry me. + +ANHALT. Does he? hastily] But believe me, the Baron will not +persuade you--No, I am sure he will not. + +AMELIA. I know that. + +ANHALT. He wishes that I should ascertain whether you have an +inclination ---- + +AMELIA. For the Count, or for matrimony do you mean? + +ANHALT. For matrimony. + +AMELIA. All things that I don't know, and don't understand, are quite +indifferent to me. + +ANHALT. For that very reason I am sent to you to explain the good and +the bad of which matrimony is composed. + +AMELIA. Then I beg first to be acquainted with the good. + +ANHALT. When two sympathetic hearts meet in the marriage state, +matrimony may be called a happy life. When such a wedded pair find +thorns in their path, each will be eager, for the sake of the other, to +tear them from the root. Where they have to mount hills, or wind a +labyrinth, the most experienced will lead the way, and be a guide to +his companion. Patience and love will accompany them in their journey, +while melancholy and discord they leave far behind.--Hand in hand they +pass on from morning till evening, through their summer's day, till the +night of age draws on, and the sleep of death overtakes the one. The +other, weeping and mourning, yet looks forward to the bright region +where he shall meet his still surviving partner, among trees and +flowers which themselves have planted, in fields of eternal verdure. + +AMELIA. You may tell my father--I'll marry. [Rises.] + +ANHALT [rising]. This picture is pleasing; but I must beg you not to +forget that there is another on the same subject.--When convenience, +and fair appearance joined to folly and ill-humour, forge the fetters +of matrimony, they gall with their weight the married pair. +Discontented with each other--at variance in opinions--their mutual +aversion increases with the years they live together. They contend +most, where they should most unite; torment, where they should most +soothe. In this rugged way, choaked with the weeds of suspicion, +jealousy, anger, and hatred, they take their daily journey, till one of +these _also_ sleep in death. The other then lifts up his dejected +head, and calls out in acclamations of joy--Oh, liberty! dear liberty! + +AMELIA. I will not marry. + +ANHALT. You mean to say, you will not fall in love. + +AMELIA. Oh no! [ashamed] I am in love. + +ANHALT. Are in love! [starting] And with the Count? + +AMELIA. I wish I was. + +ANHALT. Why so? + +AMELIA. Because _he_ would, perhaps, love me again. + +ANHALT [warmly]. Who is there that would not? + +AMELIA. Would you? + +ANHALT. I--I--me--I--I am out of the question. + +AMELIA. No; you are the very person to whom I have put the question. + +ANHALT. What do you mean? + +AMELIA. I am glad you don't understand me. I was afraid I had spoken +too plain. [in confusion]. + +ANHALT. Understand you!--As to that--I am not dull. + +AMELIA. I know you are not--And as you have for a long time instructed +me, why should not I now begin to teach you? + +ANHALT. Teach me what? + +AMELIA. Whatever I know, and you don't. + +ANHALT. There are some things I had rather never know. + +AMELIA. So you may remember I said when You began to teach me +mathematics. I said I had rather not know it--But now I have learnt it +gives me a great deal of pleasure--and [hesitating] perhaps, who can +tell, but that I might teach something as pleasant to you, as resolving +a problem is to me. + +ANHALT. Woman herself is a problem. + +AMELIA. And I'll teach you to make her out. + +ANHALT. _You_ teach? + +AMELIA. Why not? none but a woman can teach the science of herself: +and though I own I am very young, a young woman may be as agreeable for +a tutoress as an old one.--I am sure I always learnt faster from you +than from the old clergyman who taught me before you came. + +ANHALT. This is nothing to the subject. + +AMELIA. What is the subject? + +ANHALT. ---- Love. + +AMELIA [going up to him]. Come, then, teach it me--teach it me as you +taught me geography, languages, and other important things + +ANHALT [turning from her] Pshaw! + +AMELIA. Ah! you won't--You know you have already taught me that, and +you won't begin again. + +ANHALT. You misconstrue--you misconceive every thing I say or do. The +subject I came to you upon was marriage. + +AMELIA. A very proper subject from the man who has taught me love, and +I accept the proposal [curtsying]. + +ANHALT. Again you misconceive and confound me. + +AMELIA. Ay, I see how it is--You have no inclination to experience +with me "the good part of matrimony:" I am not the female with whom +you would like to go "hand in hand up hills, and through +labyrinths"--with whom you would like to "root up thorns; and with whom +you would delight to plant lilies and roses." No, you had rather call +out, "O liberty, dear liberty." + +ANHALT. Why do you force from me, what it is villanous to own?--I love +you more than life--Oh, Amelia! had we lived in those golden times, +which the poet's picture, no one but you ---- But as the world is +changed, your birth and fortune make our union impossible--To preserve +the character, and more the feelings of an honest man, I would not +marry you without the consent of your father--And could I, dare I +propose it to him. + +AMELIA. He has commanded me never to conceal or disguise the truth. I +will propose it to him. The subject of the Count will force me to +speak plainly, and this will be the most proper time, while he can +compare the merit of you both. + +ANHALT. I conjure you not to think of exposing yourself and me to his +resentment. + +AMELIA. It is my father's will that I should marry--It is my father's +wish to see me happy--If then you love me as you say, I will marry; and +will be happy--but only with you.--I will tell him this.--At first he +will start; then grow angry; then be in a passion--In his passion he +will call me "undutiful:" but he will soon recollect himself, and +resume his usual smiles, saying "Well, well, if he love you, and you +love him, in the name of heaven, let it be."--Then I shall hug him +round the neck, kiss his hands, run away from him, and fly to you; it +will soon be known that I am your bride, the whole village will come to +wish me joy, and heaven's blessing will follow. + + Enter Verdun, the BUTLER. + +AMELIA [discontented]. Ah! is it you? + +BUTLER. Without vanity, I have taken the liberty to enter this +apartment the moment the good news reached my ears. + +AMELIA. What news? + +BUTLER. Pardon an old servant, your father's old butler, gracious +lady, who has had the honour to carry the baron in his arms--and +afterwards with humble submission to receive many a box o' the ear from +you--if he thinks it his duty to make his congratulations with due +reverence on this happy day, and to join with the muses in harmonious +tunes on the lyre. + +AMELIA. Oh! my good butler, I am not in a humour to listen to the +muses, and your lyre. + +BUTLER. There has never been a birth-day, nor wedding-day, nor +christening-day, celebrated in your family, in which I have not joined +with the muses in full chorus.--In forty-six years, three hundred and +ninety-seven congratulations on different occasions have dropped from +my pen. To-day, the three hundred and ninety-eighth is coming +forth;--for heaven has protected our noble master, who has been in +great danger. + +AMELIA. Danger! My father in danger! What do you mean? + +BUTLER. One of the gamekeepers has returned to inform the whole castle +of a base and knavish trick, of which the world will talk, and my +poetry hand down to posterity. + +AMELIA. What, what is all this. + +BUTLER. The baron, my lord and master, in company with the strange +Count, had not been gone a mile beyond the lawn, when one of them ---- + +AMELIA. What happened? Speak for heaven's sake. + +BUTLER. My verse shall tell you. + +AMELIA. No, no; tell us in prose. + +ANHALT. Yes, in prose. + +BUTLER. Ah, you have neither of you ever been in love, or you would +prefer poetry to prose. But excuse [pulls out a paper] the haste in +which it was written. I heard the news in the fields--always have +paper and a pencil about me, and composed the whole forty lines +crossing the meadows and the park in my way home. [reads.] + + Oh Muse, ascend the forked mount. + And lofty strains prepare, + About a Baron and a Count, + Who went to hunt the hare. + + The hare she ran with utmost speed, + And sad, and anxious looks, + Because the furious hounds indeed, + Were near to her, gadzooks. + + At length, the Count and Baron bold + Their footsteps homeward bended; + For why, because, as you were told, + The hunting it was ended. + + Before them strait a youth appears, + Who made a piteous pother, + And told a tale with many tears, + About his dying mother. + + The youth was in severe distress, + And seem'd as he had spent all, + He look'd a soldier by his dress; + For that was regimental. + + The Baron's heart was full of ruth, + While from his eye fell brine o! + And soon he gave the mournful youth + A little ready rino. + + He gave a shilling as I live, + Which, sure, was mighty well; + But to some people if you give + An inch--they'll take an ell. + + The youth then drew his martial knife, + And seiz'd the Baron's collar, + He swore he'd have the Baron's life, + Or else another dollar. + + Then did the Baron in a fume, + Soon raise a mighty din, + Whereon came butler, huntsman, groom, + And eke the whipper-in. + + Maugre this young man's warlike coat, + They bore him off to prison; + And held so strongly by his throat, + They almost stopt his whizzen. + + Soon may a neckcloth, call'd a rope, + Of robbing cure this elf; + If so I'll write, without a trope, + His dying speech myself. + + And had the Baron chanc'd to die, + Oh! grief to all the nation, + I must have made an elegy, + And not this fine narration. + + MORAL. + + Henceforth let those who all have spent, + And would by begging live, + Take warning here, and be content, + With what folks chuse to give. + +AMELIA. Your muse, Mr. Butler, is in a very inventive humour this +morning. + +ANHALT. And your tale too improbable, even for fiction. + +BUTLER. Improbable! It's a real fact. + +AMELIA. What, a robber in our grounds, at noon-day? Very likely +indeed! + +BUTLER. I don't say it was likely--I only say it is true. + +ANHALT. No, no, Mr. Verdun, we find no fault with your poetry; but +don't attempt to impose it upon us for truth. + +AMELIA. Poets are allowed to speak falsehood, and we forgive yours. + +BUTLER. I won't be forgiven, for I speak truth--And here the robber +comes, in custody, to prove my words. [Goes off, repeating] "I'll +write his dying speech myself." + +AMELIA. Look! as I live, so he does--They come nearer; he's a young +man, and has something interesting in his figure. An honest +countenance, with grief and sorrow in his face. No, he is no robber--I +pity him! Oh! look how the keepers drag him unmercifully into the +tower--Now they lock it--Oh! how that poor, unfortunate man must feel! + +ANHALT [aside]. Hardly worse than I do. + + Enter the BARON. + +AMELIA [runs up to him]. A thousand congratulations, my dear papa. + +BARON. For Heaven's sake spare me your congratulations. The old +Butler, in coming up stairs, has already overwhelmed me with them. + +ANHALT. Then, it is true, my Lord? I could hardly believe the old man. + +AMELIA. And the young prisoner, with all his honest looks, is a robber? + +BARON. He is; but I verily believe for the first and last time. A +most extraordinary event, Mr. Anhalt This young man begged; then drew +his sword upon me; but he trembled so, when he seized me by the breast, +a child might have overpowered him. I almost wish he had made his +escape--this adventure may cost him his life, and I might have +preserved it with one dollar: but, now, to save him would set a bad +example. + +AMELIA. Oh no! my lord, have pity on him! Plead for him, Mr. Anhalt! + +BARON. Amelia, have you had any conversation with Mr. Anhalt? + +AMELIA. Yes, my Lord. + +BARON. Respecting matrimony? + +AMELIA. Yes; and I have told him ---- + +ANHALT [very hastily]. According to your commands, Baron ---- + +AMELIA. But he has conjured me ---- + +ANHALT. I have endeavoured, my Lord, to find out ---- + +AMELIA. Yet, I am sure, dear papa, your affection for me ---- + +ANHALT. You wish to say something to me in your closet, my Lord? + +BARON. What the devil is all this conversation? You will not let one +another speak--I don't understand either of you. + +AMELIA. Dear father, have you not promised you will not thwart my +affections when I marry, but suffer me to follow their dictates. + +BARON. Certainly. + +AMELIA. Do you hear, Mr. Anhalt? + +ANHALT. I beg pardon--I have a person who is waiting for me--I am +obliged to retire. [Exit in confusion. + +BARON [calls after him]. I shall expect you in my closet. I am going +there immediately. [Retiring towards the opposite door.] + +AMELIA. Pray, my Lord, stop a few minutes longer; I have something of +great importance to say to you. + +BARON. Something of importance! to plead for the young man, I +suppose! But that's a subject I must not listen to. [Exit. + +AMELIA. I wish to plead for two young men--For one, that he may be let +out of prison: for the other, that he may be made a prisoner for life. + [Looks out.] The tower is still locked. How dismal it must be to be +shut up in such a place; and perhaps--[Calls] Butler! Butler! Come +this way. I wish to speak to you. This young soldier has risked his +life for his mother, and that accounts for the interest I take in his +misfortunes. + + Enter the BUTLER. + +Pray, have you carried anything to the prisoner to eat? + +BUTLER. Yes. + +AMELIA. What was it? + +BUTLER. Some fine black bread; and water as clear as crystal. + +AMELIA. Are you not ashamed! Even my father pities him. Go directly +down to the kitchen, and desire the cook to give you something good and +comfortable; and then go into the cellar for a bottle of wine. + +BUTLER. Good and comfortable indeed! + +AMELIA. And carry both to the tower. + +BUTLER. I am willing at any time, dear Lady, to obey your orders; but, +on this occasion, the prisoner's food must remain bread and water--It +is the Baron's particular command. + +AMELIA. Ah! My father was in the height of passion when he gave it. + +BUTLER. Whatsoever his passion might be, it is the duty of a true, and +honest dependent to obey his Lord's mandates. I will not suffer a +servant in this house, nor will I, myself, give the young man any thing +except bread and water--But I'll tell you what I'll do--I'll read my +verses to him. + +AMELIA. Give me the key of the cellar--I'll go myself. + +BUTLER [gives the key]. And there's my verses--[taking them from his +pocket] Carry them with you, they may comfort him as much as the wine. + [She throws them down. [Exit Amelia. + +BUTLER [in amazement]. Not take them! Refuse to take them--[he lifts +them from the floor with the utmost respect]-- + + "I must have made an elegy, + And not this fine narration." [Exit. + + END ACT III + + + + + ACT IV. + + SCENE I. A Prison in one of the + Towers of the Castle. + FREDERICK [alone]. + +FREDERICK. How a few moments destroy the happiness of man! When I, +this morning, set out from my inn, and saw the sun rise, I sung with +joy.--Flattered with the hope of seeing my mother, I formed a scheme +how I would with joy surprize her. But, farewell all pleasant +prospects--I return to my native country, and the first object I +behold, is my dying parent; my first lodging, a prison; and my next +walk will perhaps be--oh, merciful providence! have I deserved all +this? + + Enter AMELIA with a small basket covered + with a napkin.--She speaks to someone without. + +AMELIA. Wait there, Francis, I shall soon be back. + +FREDERICK [hearing the door open, and turning around]. Who's there? + +AMELIA. You must be hungry and thirsty, I fear. + +FREDERICK. Oh, no! neither. + +AMELIA. Here is a bottle of wine, and something to eat. [Places the +basket on the table.] I have often heard my father say, that wine is +quite a cordial to the heart. + +FREDERICK. A thousand thanks, dear stranger. Ah! could I prevail on +you to have it sent to my mother, who is on her death-bed, under the +roof of an honest peasant, called Hubert! Take it hence, my kind +benefactress, and save my mother. + +AMELIA. But first assure me that you did not intend to murder my +father. + +FREDERICK. Your father! heaven forbid.--I meant but to preserve her +life, who gave me mine.--Murder your father! No, no--I hope not. + +AMELIA. And I thought not--Or, if you had murdered any one, you had +better have killed the Count; nobody would have missed him. + +FREDERICK. Who, may I enquire, were those gentlemen, whom I hoped to +frighten into charity? + +AMELIA. Ay, if you only intended to frighten them, the Count was the +very person for your purpose. But you caught hold of the other +gentleman.--And could you hope to intimidate Baron Wildenhaim? + +FREDERICK. Baron Wildenhaim!--Almighty powers! + +AMELIA. What's the matter? + +FREDERICK. The man to whose breast I held my sword--[trembling]. + +AMELIA. Was Baron Wildenhaim--the owner of this estate--my father! + +FREDERICK [with the greatest emotion]. _My_ father! + +AMELIA. Good heaven, how he looks! I am afraid he's mad. Here! +Francis, Francis. [Exit, calling. + +FREDERICK [all agitation]. My _father_! Eternal judge! tho do'st +slumber! The man, against whom I drew my sword this day was my father! + One moment longer, and provoked, I might have been the murderer of my +father! my hair stands on end! my eyes are clouded! I cannot see any +thing before me. [Sinks down on chair]. If Providence had ordained +that I should give the fatal blow, who, would have been most in +fault?--I dare not pronounce-- after a pause] That benevolent young +female who left me just now, is, then, my sister--and I suppose that +fop, who accompanied my father-- + + Enter Mr. ANHALT. + +Welcome, Sir! By your dress you are of the church, and consequently a +messenger of comfort. You are most welcome, Sir. + +ANHALT. I wish to bring comfort and avoid upbraidings: for your own +conscience will reproach you more than the voice of a preacher. From +the sensibility of your countenance, together with a language, and +address superior to the vulgar, it appears, young man, you have had an +education, which should have preserved you from a state like this. + +FREDERICK. My education I owe to my mother. Filial love, in return, +has plunged me into the state you see. A civil magistrate will condemn +according to the law--A priest, in judgment, is not to consider the act +itself, but the impulse which led to the act. + +ANHALT. I shall judge with all the lenity my religion dictates: and +you are the prisoner of a nobleman, who compassionates you for the +affection which you bear towards your mother; for he has sent to the +village where you directed him, and has found the account you gave +relating to her true.--With this impression in your favour, it is my +advice, that you endeavour to see and supplicate the Baron for your +release from prison, and all the peril of his justice. + +FREDERICK [starting]. I--I see the Baron! I!--I supplicate for my +deliverance.--Will you favour me with his name?--Is it not Baron---- + +ANHALT. Baron Wildenhaim. + +FREDERICK. Baron Wildenhaim! He lived formerly in Alsace. + +ANHALT. The same.--About a year after the death of his wife, he left +Alsace; and arrived here a few weeks ago to take possession of his +paternal estate. + +FREDERICK. So! his wife is dead;--and that generous young lady who +came to my prison just now is his daughter? + +ANHALT. Miss Wildenhaim, his daughter. + +FREDERICK. And that young gentleman, I saw with him this morning, is +his son? + +ANHALT. He has no son. + +FREDERICK [hastily]. Oh, yes, he has--[recollecting himself]--I mean +him that was out shooting to-day. + +ANHALT. He is not his son. + +FREDERICK [to himself]. Thank Heaven! + +ANHALT. He is only a visitor. + +FREDERICK. I thank you for this information; and if you will undertake +to procure me a private interview with Baron Wildenhaim---- + +ANHALT. Why private? However, I will venture to take you for a short +time from this place, and introduce you; depending on your innocence, +or your repentance--on his conviction in your favour, or his mercy +towards your guilt. Follow me. [Exit. + +FREDERICK [following]. I have beheld an affectionate parent in deep +adversity.--Why should I tremble thus?--Why doubt my fortitude, in the +presence of an unnatural parent in prosperity? [Exit. + + ========== + SCENE II. A Room in the Castle. + + Enter BARON WILDENHAIM and AMELIA. + +BARON. I hope you will judge more favourably of Count Cassel's +understanding since the private interview you have had with him. +Confess to me the exact effect of the long conference between you. + +AMELIA. To make me hate him. + +BARON. What has he done? + +AMELIA. Oh! told me of such barbarous deeds he has committed. + +BARON. What deeds? + +AMELIA. Made vows of love to so many women, that, on his marriage with +me, a hundred female hearts will at least be broken. + +BARON. Psha! do you believe him? + +AMELIA. Suppose I do not; is it to his honour that I believe he tells +a falsehood? + +BARON. He is mistaken merely. + +AMELIA. Indeed, my Lord, in one respect I am sure he speaks truth. +For our old Butler told my waiting-maid of a poor young creature who +has been deceived, undone; and she, and her whole family, involved in +shame and sorrow by his perfidy. + +BARON. Are you sure the Butler said this? + +AMELIA. See him and ask him. He knows the whole of story, indeed he +does; the names of the persons, and every circumstance. + +BARON. Desire he may be sent to me. + +AMELIA [goes to the door and calls]. Order old Verdun to come to the +Baron directly. + +BARON. I know tale-bearers are apt to be erroneous. I'll hear from +himself, the account you speak of. + +AMELIA. I believe it is in verse. + +BARON. [angry]. In verse! + +AMELIA. But, then, indeed it's true. + + Enter BUTLER. + +AMELIA. Verdun, pray have not you some true poetry? + +BUTLER. All my poetry is true--and so far, better than some people's +prose. + +BARON. But I want prose on this occasion, and command you to give me +nothing else. [Butler bows.] Have you heard of an engagement which +Count Cassel is under to any other woman than my daughter? + +BUTLER. I am to tell your honour in prose? + +BARON. Certainly. [Butler appears uneasy and loath to speak.] +Amelia, he does not like to divulge what he knows in presence of a +third person--leave the room. [Exit Amelia. + +BUTLER. No, no--that did not cause my reluctance to speak. + +BARON. What then? + +BUTLER. Your not allowing me to speak in verse--for here is the poetic +poem. [Holding up a paper.] + +BARON. How dare you presume to contend with my will? Tell in plain +language all you know on the subject I have named. + +BUTLER. Well, then, my Lord, if you must have the account in quiet +prose, thus it was--Phoebus, one morning, rose in the East, and having +handed in the long-expected day, he called up his brother Hymen---- + +BARON. Have done with your rhapsody. + +BUTLER. Ay; I knew you'd like it best in verse---- + + There lived a lady in this land, + Whose charms the heart made tingle; + At church she had not given her hand, + And therefore still was single. + +BARON. Keep to prose. + +BUTLER. I will, mu Lord; but I have repeated it so often in verse, I +scarce know how.--Count Cassel, influenced by the designs of Cupid in +his very worst humour, + + "Count Cassel wooed this maid so rare, + And in her eye found grace; + And if his purpose was not fair," + +BARON. No verse. + +BUTLER. + "It probably was base." + +I beg pardon, my Lord; but the verse will intrude in spite of my +efforts to forget it. 'Tis as difficult for me at times to forget, as +'tis for other men at times to remember. But in plain truth, my Lord, +the Count was treacherous, cruel, forsworn. + +BARON. I am astonished! + +BUTLER. And would be more so if you would listen to the whole poem. +[Most earnestly.] Pray, my Lord, listen to it. + +BARON. You know the family? All the parties? + +BUTLER. I will bring the father of the damsel to prove the veracity of +my muse. His name is Baden--poor old man! + + "The sire consents to bless the pair, + And names the nuptial day, + When, lo! the bridegroom was not there, + Because he was away." + +BARON. But tell me--Had the father his daughter's innocence to deplore? + +BUTLER. Ah! my Lord, ah! and you _must_ hear that part in rhyme. +Loss of innocence never sounds well except in verse. + + "For ah! the very night before, + No prudent guard upon her, + The Count he gave her oaths a score, + And took in change her honour. + + MORAL. + Then you, who now lead single lives, + From this sad tale beware; + And do not act as you were wives, + Before you really are." + + Enter COUNT CASSEL. + +BARON [to the Butler]. Leave the room instantly. + +COUNT. Yes, good Mr. family poet, leave the room, and take your +doggerels with you. + +BUTLER. Don't affront my poem, your honour; for I am indebted to you +for the plot. + + "The Count he gave her oaths a score + And took in change her honour." + [Exit Butler. + +BARON. Count, you see me agitated. + +COUNT. What can be the cause? + +BARON. I'll not keep you in doubt a moment. You are accused, young +man, of being engaged to another woman while you offer marriage to my +child. + +COUNT. To only _one_ other woman? + +BARON. What do you mean? + +COUNT. My meaning is, that when a man is young and rich, has +travelled, and is no personal object of disapprobation, to have made +vows but to one woman, is an absolute slight upon the rest of the sex. + +BARON. Without evasion, Sir, do you know the name of Baden? Was there +ever a promise of marriage made by you to his daughter? Answer me +plainly: or must I take a journey to inquire of the father? + +COUNT. No--he can tell you no more than, I dare say, you already know; +and which I shall not contradict. + +BARON. Amazing insensibility! And can you hold your head erect while +you acknowledge perfidy? + +COUNT. My dear baron,--if every man, who deserves to have a charge +such as this brought against him, was not permitted to look up--it is a +doubt whom we might not meet crawling on all fours. [he accidently +taps the Baron's shoulder.] + +BARON [starts--recollects himself--then in a faultering voice]. +Yet--nevertheless-the act is so atrocious-- + +COUNT. But nothing new. + +BARON [faintly]. Yes--I hope--I hope it is new. + +COUNT. What, did you never meet with such a thing before? + +BARON [agitated]. If I have--I pronounced the man who so offended--a +villain. + +COUNT. You are singularly scrupulous. I question if the man thought +himself so. + +BARON. Yes he did. + +COUNT. How do you know? + +BARON [hesitating]. I have heard him say so. + +COUNT. But he ate, drank, and slept, I suppose? + +BARON [confused]. Perhaps he did. + +COUNT. And was merry with his friends; and his friends as fond of him +as ever? + +BARON. Perhaps [confused]--perhaps they were. + +COUNT. And perhaps he now and then took upon him to lecture young men +for their gallantries? + +BARON. Perhaps he did. + +COUNT. Why, then, after all, Baron, your villain is a mighty good, +prudent, honest fellow; and I have no objection to your giving me that +name. + +BARON. But do you not think of some atonement to the unfortunate girl? + +COUNT. Did _your_ villain atone? + +BARON. No: when his reason was matured, he wished to make some +recompense; but his endeavours were too late. + +COUNT. I will follow his example, and wait till my reason is matured, +before I think myself competent to determine what to do. + +BARON. And 'till that time I defer your marriage with my daughter. + +COUNT. Would you delay her happiness so long? Why, my dear Baron, +considering the fashionable life I lead, it may be ten years before my +judgment arrives to its necessary standard. + +BARON. I have the head-ach, Count--These tidings have discomposed, +disordered me--I beg your absence for a few minutes. + +COUNT. I obey--And let me assure you, my Lord, that, although, from +the extreme delicacy of your honour, you have ever through life +shuddered at seduction; yet, there are constitutions, and there are +circumstances, in which it can be palliated. + +BARON. Never [violently]. + +COUNT. Not in a grave, serious, reflecting man such as _you_, I grant. + But in a gay, lively, inconsiderate, flimsy, frivolous coxcomb, such +as myself, it is excusable: for me to keep my word to a woman, would +be deceit: 'tis not expected of me. It is in my character to break +oaths in love; as it is in your nature, my Lord, never to have spoken +any thing but wisdom and truth. [Exit + +BARON. Could I have thought a creature so insignificant as that, had +power to excite sensations such as I feel at present! I am, indeed, +worse than he is, as much as the crimes of a man exceed those of an +idiot. + + Enter AMELIA. + +AMELIA. I heard the Count leave you, my Lord, and so I am come to +enquire---- + +BARON [sitting down, and trying to compose himself]. You are not to +marry count Cassel--And now, mention his name to me no more. + +AMELIA. I won't--indeed I won't--for I hate his name.--But thank you, +my dear father, for this good news [draws a chair, and sits on the +opposite side of the table on which he leans.--And after a pause] And +who am I to marry? + +BARON [his head on his hand]. I can't tell. + + [Amelia appears to have something on her + mind which she wishes to disclose.] + +AMELIA. I never liked the Count. + +BARON. No more did I. + +AMELIA [after a pause]. I think love comes just as it pleases, without +being asked. + +BARON. It does so [in deep thought]. + +AMELIA [after another pause]. And there are instances where, perhaps, +the object of love makes the passion meritorious. + +BARON. To be sure there are. + +AMELIA. For example; my affection for Mr. Anhalt as my tutor. + +BARON. Right. + +AMELIA [after another pause]. I should like to marry. [sighing.] + +BARON. So you shall [a pause]. It is proper for every body to marry. + +AMELIA. Why, then, does not Mr. Anhalt marry? + +BARON. You must ask him that question yourself. + +AMELIA. A have. + +BARON. And what did he say? + +AMELIA. Will you give me leave to tell you what he said? + +BARON. Certainly. + +AMELIA. And you won't be angry? + +BARON. Undoubtedly not. + +AMELIA. Why, then--you know you commanded me never to disguise or +conceal the truth. + +BARON. I did so. + +AMELIA. Why, then he said---- + +BARON. What did he say? + +AMELIA. He said--he would not marry me without your consent for the +world. + +BARON [starting from his chair]. And pray, how came this the subject +of your conversation? + +AMELIA [rising]. _I_ brought it up. + +BARON. And what did you say? + +AMELIA. I said that birth and fortune were such old-fashioned things +to me, I cared nothing about either: and that I had once heard my +father declare, he should consult my happiness in marrying me, beyond +any other consideration. + +BARON. I will once more repeat to you my sentiments. It is the custom +in this country for the children of nobility to marry only with their +equals; but as my daughter's content is more dear to me than an ancient +custom, I would bestow you on the first man I thought calculated to +make you happy: by this I do not mean to say that I should not be +severely nice in the character of the man to whom I gave you; and Mr. +Anhalt, from his obligations to me, and his high sense of honour, +thinks too nobly-- + +AMELIA. Would it not be noble to make the daughter of his benefactor +happy? + +BARON. But when that daughter is a child, and thinks like a child---- + +AMELIA. No, indeed, papa, I begin to think very like a woman. Ask +_him_ if I don't. + +BARON. Ask him! You feel gratitude for the instructions you have +received from him, and fancy it love. + +AMELIA. Are there two gratitudes? + +BARON. What do you mean? + +AMELIA. Because I feel gratitude to you; but that os very unlike the +gratitude I feel towards him. + +BARON. Indeed! + +AMELIA. Yes; and then he feels another gratitude towards me. What's +that? + +BARON. Has he told you so? + +AMELIA. Yes. + +BARON. That was not right of him. + +AMELIA. Oh! if you did but know how I surprized him! + +BARON. Surprized him? + +AMELIA. He came to me by your command, to examine my heart respecting +Count Cassel. I told him that I would never marry the Count. + +BARON. But him? + +AMELIA. Yes, him. + +BARON. Very fine indeed! And what was his answer? + +AMELIA. He talked of my rank in life; of my aunts and cousins; of my +grandfather, and great-grandfather; of his duty to you; and endeavoured +to persuade me to think no more of him. + +BARON. He acted honestly. + +AMELIA. But not politely. + +BARON. No matter. + +AMELIA. Dear father! I shall never be able to love another--Never be +happy with any one else. [Throwing herself on her knees.] + +BARON. Rise, I command you. + + [As she rises, enter ANHALT.] + +ANHALT. My Lord, forgive me! I have ventured, on the privilege of my +office, as a minister of holy charity, to bring the poor soldier, whom +your justice has arrested, into the adjoining room; and I presume to +entreat you will admit him to your presence, and hear his apology, or +his supplication. + +BARON. Anhalt, you have done wrong. I pity the unhappy boy; but you +know I cannot, must not forgive him. + +ANHALT. I beseech you then, my Lord, to tell him so yourself. From +your lips he may receive his doom with resignation. + +AMELIA. Oh father! See him and take pity on him; his sorrows have +made him frantic. + +BARON. Leave the room, Amelia. [on her attempting to speak, he raises +his voice.] Instantly.--[Exit Amelia. + +ANHALT. He asked for a private audience: perhaps he has some +confession to make that may relieve his mind, and may be requisite for +you to hear. + +BARON. Well, bring him in, and do you wait in the adjoining room, till +our conference is over. I must then, Sir, have a conference with you. + +ANHALT. I shall obey your commands. [He goes to door, and re-enters +with Frederick. Anhalt then retires at the same door.] + +BARON [haughtily to Frederick]. I know, young man, you plead your +mother's wants in excuse for an act of desperation: but powerful as +this plea might be in palliation of a fault, it cannot extenuate a +crime like yours. + +FREDERICK. I have a plea for my conduct even more powerful than a +mother's wants. + +BARON. What's that? + +FREDERICK. My father's cruelty. + +BARON. You have a father then? + +FREDERICK. I have, and a rich one--Nay, one that's reputed virtuous, +and honourable. A great man, possessing estates and patronage in +abundance; much esteemed at court, and beloved by his tenants; kind, +benevolent, honest, generous-- + +BARON. And with all those great qualities, abandons you? + +FREDERICK. He does, with all the qualities I mention. + +BARON. Your father may do right; a dissipated, desperate youth, whom +kindness cannot draw from vicious habits, severity may. + +FREDERICK. You are mistaken--My father does not discard me for my +vices--He does not know me--has never seen me--He abandoned me, even +before I was born. + +BARON. What do you say? + +FREDERICK. The tears of my mother are all that I inherit from my +father. Never has he protected or supported me--never protected her. + +BARON. Why don't you apply to his relations? + +FREDERICK. They disown me, too--I am, they say, related to no one--All +the world disclaim me, except my mother--and there again, I have to +thank my father. + +BARON. How so? + +FREDERICK. Because I am an illegitimate son.--My seduced mother has +brought me up in patient misery. Industry enabled her to give me an +education; but the days of my youth commenced with hardship, sorrow, +and danger.--My companions lived happy around me, and had a pleasing +prospect in their view, while bread and water only were my food, and no +hopes joined to sweeten it. But my father felt not that! + +BARON [to himself]. He touches my heart. + +FREDERICK. After five years' absence from my mother, I returned this +very day, and found her dying in the streets for want--Not even a hut +to shelter her, or a pallet of straw--But my father, he feels not that! + He lives in a palace, sleeps on the softest down, enjoys all the +luxuries of the great; and when he dies, a funeral sermon will praise +his great benevolence, his Christian charities. + +BARON [greatly agitated]. What os your father's name? + +FREDERICK. --He took advantage of an innocent young woman, gained her +affection by flattery and false promises; gave life to an unfortunate +being, who was on the point of murdering his father. + +BARON [shuddering]. Who is he? + +FREDERICK. Baron Wildenhaim. + + [The Baron's emotion expresses the sense of + amazement, guilt, shame, and horror.] + +FREDERICK. In this house did you rob my mother of her honour;; and in +this house I am a sacrifice for the crime. I am your prisoner--I will +not be free--I am a robber--I give myself up.--You _shall_ deliver me +into the hands of justice--You shall accompany me to the spot of public +execution. You shall hear in vain the chaplain's consolation and +injunctions. You shall find how I, in despair, will, to the last +moment, call for retribution on my father. + +BARON. Stop! Be pacified-- + +FREDERICK. --And when you turn your head from my extended corse, you +will behold my weeping mother--Need I paint how her eyes will greet you? + +BARON. Desist--barbarian, savage, stop! + + Enter Anhalt alarmed. + +ANHALT. What do I hear? What is this? Young man, I hope you have not +made a second attempt. + +FREDERICK. Yes; I have done what it was your place to do. I have made +a sinner tremble [points to the Baron and exit.] + +ANHALT. What can this mean?--I do not comprehend-- + +BARON. He is my son!--He is my son!--Go, Anhalt,--advise me--help +me--Go to the poor woman, his mother--He can show you the way--make +haste--speed to protect her-- + +ANHALT. But what am I to---- + +BARON. Go.--Your heart will tell you how to act. [Exit Anhalt.] +[Baron distractedly.] Who am I? What am I? Mad--raving--no--I have a +son--A son! The bravest--I will--I must--oh! [with tenderness.] Why +have I not embraced him yet? [increasing his voice.] why not pressed +him to my heart? Ah! see--[looking after him]--He flies from the +castle--Who's there? Where are my attendants? [Enter two servants]. +Follow him--bring the prisoner back.--But observe my command--treat him +with respect--treat him as my son--and your master. [Exit. + + END ACT IV. + + + + + ACT V. + + SCENE I. Inside of the + Cottage (as in Act II). + + AGATHA, COTTAGER, and his WIFE discovered. + +AGATHA. Pray look and see if he is coming. + +COTTAGER. It is of no use. I have been in the road; have looked up +and down; but neither see nor hear any thing of him. + +WIFE. Have a little patience. + +AGATHA. I wish you would step out once more--I think he cannot be far +off. + +COTTAGER. I will; I will go. [Exit. + +WIFE. If your son knew what heaven had sent you, he would be here very +soon. + +AGATHA. I feel so anxious---- + +WIFE. But why? I should think a purse of gold, such as you have +received, would make any body easy. + +AGATHA. Where can he be so long? He has been gone four hours. Some +ill must have befallen him. + +WIFE. It is still broad day-light--don't think of any danger.--This +evening we must all be merry. I'll prepare the supper. What a good +gentleman our Baron must be! I am sorry I ever spoke a word against +him. + +AGATHA. How did he know I was here? + +WIFE. Heaven only can tell. The servant that brought the money was +very secret. + +AGATHA [to herself]. I am astonished! I wonder! Oh! surely he has +been informed--Why else should he have sent so much money? + + Re-enter Cottager. + +AGATHA. Well!--not yet! + +COTTAGER. I might look till I am blind for him--but I saw our new +Rector coming along the road; he calls in sometimes. May be, he will +this evening. + +WIFE. He is a very good gentleman; pays great attention to his +parishioners; and where he can assist the poor, he is always ready. + + Enter Mr. ANHALT. + +ANHALT. Good evening, friends. + +BOTH. Thank you, reverend Sir. + + [They both run to fetch him a chair]. + +ANHALT. I thank you, good people--I see you have a stranger here. + +COTTAGER. Yes, your Reverence; it is a poor sick woman, whom I took in +doors. + +ANHALT. You will be rewarded for it. [to Agatha.] May I beg leave to +ask your name? + +AGATHA. Ah! If we were alone---- + +ANHALT. Good neighbours, will you leave us alone for a few minutes? I +have something to say to this poor woman. + +COTTAGER. Wife, do you hear? Come along with me. [Exeunt Cottager +and his Wife.] + +ANHALT. Now---- + +AGATHA. Before I tell you who I am, what I am, and what I was----I +must beg to ask----Are you of this country? + +ANHALT. No--I was born in Alsace. + +AGATHA. Did you know the late rector personally, whom you have +succeeded? + +ANHALT. No. + +AGATHA. Then you are not acquainted with my narrative? + +ANHALT. Should I find you to be the person whom I have long been in +search of, your history is not altogether unknown to me. + +AGATHA. "That you have been in search of!" Who gave you such a +commission? + +ANHALT. A man, who, if it so prove, is much concerned for your +misfortunes. + +AGATHA. How? Oh, Sir! tell me quickly--Whom do you think to find in +me? + +ANHALT. Agatha Friburg. + +AGATHA. Yes, I am that unfortunate woman; and the man who pretends to +take concern in my misfortunes is----Baron Wildenhaim----he who +betrayed me, abandoned me and my child, and killed my parents.--He +would now repair our sufferings with this purse of gold. [Takes out +the purse.] Whatever may be your errand, Sir, whether to humble, or to +protect me, it is alike indifferent. I therefore request you to take +this money to him who sent it. Tell him, my honour has never been +saleable. Tell him, destitute as I am, even indigence will not tempt +me to accept charity from my seducer. He despised my heart--I despise +his gold.--He has trampled on me--I trample on his representative. +[Throws the purse on the ground.] + +ANHALT. Be patient--I give you my word, that when the Baron sent this +present to an unfortunate woman, for whom her son had supplicated, he +did not know that woman was Agatha. + +AGATHA. My son? what of my son? + +ANHALT. Do not be alarmed--The Baron met with an affectionate son, who +begged for his sick mother, and it affected him. + +AGATHA. Begged of the Baron! of his father! + +ANHALT. Yes; but they did not know each other; and the mother received +the present on the son's account. + +AGATHA. Did not know each other? Where is my son? + +ANHALT. At the Castle. + +AGATHA. And still unknown? + +ANHALT. Now he is known--an explanation has taken place;--and I am +sent here by the Baron, not to a stranger, but to Agatha Friburg--not +with gold! his commission was--"do what your heart directs you." + +AGATHA. How is my Frederick? How did the Baron receive him? + +ANHALT. I left him just in the moment the discovery was made. By this +time your son is, perhaps, in the arms of his father. + +AGATHA. Oh! is it possible that a man, who has been twenty years deaf +to the voice of nature, should change so suddenly? + +ANHALT. I do not mean to justify the Baron, but--he has loved you--and +fear of his noble kindred alone caused his breach of faith to you. + +AGATHA. But to desert me wholly and wed another-- + +ANHALT. War called him away--Wounded in the field, he was taken to the +adjacent seat of a nobleman, whose only daughter, by anxious attention +to his recovery, won his gratitude; and, influenced by the will of his +worldly friends, he married. But no sooner was I received into the +family, and admitted to his confidence, than he related to me your +story; and at times would exclaim in anguish--"The proud imperious +Baroness avenges the wrongs of my deserted Agatha." Again, when he +presented me this living, and I left France to take possession of it, +his last words before we parted, were--"The moment you arrive at +Wildenhaim, make all enquiries to find out my poor Agatha." Every +letter from him contained "Still, still, no tidings of my Agatha." And +fate ordained it should be so, till this fortunate day. + +AGATHA. What you have said has made my heart overflow--where will this +end? + +ANHALT. I know not yet the Baron's intentions: but your sufferings +demand immediate remedy: and one way only is left--Come with me to the +castle. Do not start--you shall be concealed in my apartments till you +are called for. + +AGATHA. I go to the Baron's?--No. + +ANHALT. Go for the sake of your son--reflect, that his fortunes may +depend upon your presence. + +AGATHA. And he is the only branch on which my hope still blossoms: +the rest are withered.--I will forget my wrongs as a woman, if the +Baron will atone to the mother--he shall have the woman's pardon, if he +will merit the mother's thanks--[after a struggle]--I _will_ go to the +castle--for the sake of my Frederick, go even to his father. But where +are my good host and hostess, that I may take leave, and thank them for +their kindness? + +ANHALT [taking up the purse which Agatha had thrown down]. Here, good +friend! Good woman! + + Enter the COTTAGER and his WIFE. + +WIFE. Yes, yes, here I am. + +ANHALT. Good people, I will take your guest with me. You have acted +an honest part, and therefore receive this reward for your trouble. +[He offers the purse to the Cottager, who puts it by, and turns away]. + +ANHALT [to the Wife]. Do _you_ take it. + +WIFE. I always obey my pastor. [taking it]. + +AGATHA. Good bye. [shaking hands with the Cottagers.] For your +hospitality to me, may ye enjoy continued happiness. + +COTTAGER. Fare you well--fare you well. + +WIFE. If you find friends and get health, we won't trouble you to call +on us again: but if you should fall sick or be in poverty, we shall +take very unkind if we don't see you. + + [Exeunt Agatha and Anhalt on one side, + Cottager and his Wife on the other]. + + ========== + SCENE II. A Room in the Castle. + + BARON sitting upon a sopha.--FREDERICK + standing near him, with one hand pressed + between his--the Baron rises. + +BARON. Been in battle too!--I am glad to hear it. You have known hard +services, but now they are over, and joy and happiness will +succeed.--The reproach of your birth shall be removed, for I will +acknowledge you my son, and heir to my estate. + +FREDERICK. And my mother---- + +BARON. She shall live in peace and affluence. Do you think I would +leave your mother unprovided, unprotected? No! About a mile from this +castle I have an estate called Weldendorf--there she shall live, and +call her own whatever it produces. There she shall reign, and be sole +mistress of the little paradise. There her past sufferings shall be +changed to peace and tranquility. On a summer's morning, we, my son, +will ride to visit her; pass a day, a week with her; and in this social +intercourse time will glide pleasantly. + +FREDERICK. And, pray, my Lord--under what name is my mother to live +then? + +BARON [confused]. How? + +FREDERICK. In what capacity?--As your domestic--or as---- + +BARON. That we will settle afterwards. + +FREDERICK. Will you allow me, Sir, to leave the room a little while, +that you may have leisure to consider _now_? + +BARON. I do not know how to explain myself in respect to your mother +more than I have done already. + +FREDERICK. My fate, whatever it may be, shall never part me from her. +This is my firm resolution, upon which I call Heaven to witness! My +Lord, it must be Frederick of Wildenhaim, and Agatha of Wildenhaim--or +Agatha Friburg, and Frederick Friburg. [Exit. + +BARON. Young man! Frederick!--[calling after him.] Hasty indeed! +would make conditions with his father. No, no, that must not be. I +just now thought how well I had arranged my plans--had relieved my +heart of every burden, when, a second time, he throws a mountain upon +it. Stop, friend conscience, why do you take his part?--For twenty +years thus you have used me, and been my torture. + + Enter Mr. ANHALT. + +Ah! Anhalt, I am glad you are come. My conscience and myself are at +variance. + +ANHALT. Your conscience is in the right. + +BARON. You don't know yet what the quarrel is. + +ANHALT. Conscience is always right--because it never speaks unless it +_is_ so. + +BARON. Ay, a man of your order can more easily attend to its whispers, +than an old warrior. The sound of cannon has made him hard of +hearing.--I have found my son again, Mr. Anhalt, a fine, brave young +man--I mean to make him my heir--Am I in the right? + +ANHALT. Perfectly. + +BARON. And his mother shall live in happiness--My estate, Weldendorf, +shall be hers--I'll give it to her, and she shall make it her +residence. Don't I do right? + +ANHALT. No. + +BARON [surprized]. No? And what else should I do? + +ANHALT [forcibly]. Marry her. + +BARON [starting]. I marry her! + +ANHALT. Baron Wildenhaim is a man who will not act inconsistently.--As +this is my opinion, I expect your reasons, if you do not. + +BARON. Would you have me marry a beggar? + +ANHALT [after a pause]. Is that your only objection? + +BARON [confused]. I have more--many more. + +ANHALT. May I beg to know them likewise? + +BARON. My birth! + +ANHALT. Go on. + +BARON. My relations would despise me. + +ANHALT. Go on. + +BARON [in anger]. 'Sdeath! are not these reasons enough?--I know no +other. + +ANHALT. Now, then, it is my turn to state mine for the advice I have +given you. But first, I must presume to ask a few questions.--Did +Agatha, through artful insinuation, gain your affection? or did she +give you cause to suppose her inconstant? + +BARON. Neither--but for me, she was always virtuous and good. + +ANHALT. Did it cost you trouble and earnest entreaty to make her +otherwise? + +BARON [angrily]. Yes. + +ANHALT. You pledged your honour? + +BARON [confused]. Yes. + +ANHALT. Called God to witness? + +BARON [more confused]. Yes. + +ANHALT. The witness you called at that time was the Being who sees you +now. What you gave in pledge was your honour, which you must redeem. +Therefore thank Heaven that it is in your _power_ to redeem it. By +marrying Agatha the ransom's made: and she brings a dower greater than +any princess can bestow--peace to your conscience. If you then esteem +the value of this portion, you will not hesitate a moment to +exclaim,--Friends, wish me joy, I will marry Agatha. + + [Baron, in great agitation, + walks backwards and forwards, + then takes Anhalt by the hand.] + +BARON. "Friend, wish me joy--I will _marry_ Agatha." + +ANHALT. I do wish you joy. + +BARON. Where is she? + +ANHALT. In the castle--in my apartments here--I conducted her through +the garden, to avoid curiosity. + +BARON. Well, then, this is the wedding-day. This very evening you +shall give us your blessing. + +ANHALT. Not so soon, not so private. The whole village was witness of +Agatha's shame--the whole village must be witness of Agatha's +re-established honour. Do you consent to this? + +BARON. I do. + +ANHALT. Now the quarrel is decided. Now is your conscience quiet? + +BARON. As quiet as an infant's. I only wish the first interview was +over. + +ANHALT. Compose yourself. Agatha's heart is to be your judge. + + Enter AMELIA. + +BARON. Amelia, you have a brother. + +AMELIA. I have just heard so, my Lord; and rejoice to find the news +confirmed by you. + +BARON. I know, my dear Amelia, I can repay you for the loss of Count +Cassel; but what return can I make to you for the loss of half your +fortune? + +AMELIA. My brother's love will be ample recompense. + +BARON. I will reward you better. Mr. Anhalt, the battle I have just +fought, I owe to myself: the victory I gained, I owe to you. A man of +your principles, at once a teacher and an example of virtue, exalts his +rank in life to a level with the noblest family--and I shall be proud +to receive you as my son. + +ANHALT [falling on his knees, and taking the Baron's hand]. My Lord, +you overwhelm me with confusion, as well as with joy. + +BARON. My obligations to you are infinite--Amelia shall pay the debt. +[Gives her to him.] + +AMELIA. Oh, my dear father! [embracing the Baron] what blessings +have you bestowed on me in one day. [to Anhalt.] I will be your +scholar still, and use more diligence than ever to please my _master_. + +ANHALT. His present happiness admits of no addition. + +BARON. Nor does mine--And yet there is another task to perform that +will require more fortitude, more courage, than this has done! A trial +that!--[bursts into tears]--I cannot prevent them--Let me--let me--A +few minutes will bring me to myself--Where is Agatha? + +ANHALT. I will go, and fetch her. [Exit Anhalt at an upper entrance.] + +BARON. Stop! Let me first recover a little. [Walks up and down, +sighing bitterly--looks at the door through which Anhalt left the +room.] That door she will come from--That was once the dressing-room +of my mother--From that door I have seen her come many times--have been +delighted with her lovely smiles--How shall I now behold her altered +looks! Frederick must be my mediator.--Where is he? Where is my +son?--Now I am ready--my heart is prepared to receive her--Haste! +haste! Bring her in. + + [He looks stedfastly at the door--Anhalt + leads on Agatha--The Baron runs and + clasps her in his arms--Supported by him, + she sinks on a chair which Amelia places + in the middle of the stage--The Baron + kneels by her side, holding her hand.] + +BARON. Agatha, Agatha, do you know this voice? + +AGATHA. Wildenhaim. + +BARON. Can you forgive me? + +AGATHA. I forgive you. [embracing him]. + +FREDERICK [as he enters]. I hear the voice of my mother!--Ha! mother! + father! + + [Frederick throws himself on his knees + by the other side of his mother--She clasps + him in her arms.--Amelia is placed on the + side of her father attentively viewing + Agatha--Anhalt stands on the side of + Frederick with his hands gratefully raised + to Heaven.]----The curtain slowly drops. + + END. + + + + + ========== + EPILOGUE. + + WRITTEN BY THOMAS PALMER, ESQ. + OF THE TEMPLE. + + SPOKEN BY MR. MUNDEN. + +OUR Drama now ended, I'll take up your time +Just a moment or two in defence of my _rhime_ + * "Tho' I hope that among you are _some_ who _admir'd_ + "What I've hitherto said, dare I hope none are tir'd? + "But whether ye have, or have not heard enough + "Or whether nice critics will think it all stuff; + "To myself _rhime_ has ever appear'd, I must own, + "In its nature a sort of _philosopher's stone_; + "And if Chymists wou'd use it, they'd not make a pother, + "And puzzle their brains to find out any other." +Indeed 'tis most strange and surprising to me +That all folks in _rhiming_ their int'rest can't see; +For I'm sure if it's use were quite common with men, +The world would roll on just as pleasant again. + "'Tis said, that while ORPHEUS was striking his lyre, + "Trees and brutes danc'd along to the sound of the wire; + "That AMPHION to walls soon converted the glebes, + "And they rose, as he sung, to a city call'd Thebes; + "I suppose _they_ were _Butlers_ (like me) of that time, + "And the tale shows our sires knew the wonders of _rhime_." +From time immemorial, your lovers, we find, +When their mistresses' hearts have been proud and unkind, +Have resorted to _rhime_; and indeed it appears +That a _rhime_ would do more than a bucket of tears. +Of love, from experience, I speak-- odds my life! +I shall never forget how I courted my wife: +She had offers in plenty; but always stood neuter +'Till I, with my pen, started forth as a suitor; +Yet made I no mean present of _ribband_ or _bonnet_, +_My_ present was caught from the stars--'twas a _sonnet_. + "And now you know this, sure 'tis needless to say, + "That prose was neglected, and _rhime_ won the day-- + "But its potent effects you as well may discover + "In the _husband_ and _wife_, as in _mistress_ and _lover_; + "There are some of ye here, who, like me, I conjecture. + "Have been lull'd into sleep by a good _curtain lecture_. + "But that's a mere trifle; you'll ne'er come to blows, + "If you'll only avoid that dull enemy, _prose_. + "Adopt, then, my plan, and the very next time, + "That in words you fall out, let them fall into _rhime_; + "Thus your sharpest disputes will conclude very soon, + "And from jangling to jingling you'll chime into _tune_. + "If my wife were to call me a _drunken old sot_, + "I shou'd merely just ask her, what Butler is not? + "And bid her take care that she don't go to pot. + "So our squabbles continue a very short season, + "If she yields to my _rhime_--I allow she has reason." +Independent of this I conceive _rhime_ has weight +In the higher employments of church and of state, +And would in my mind such advantages draw, +'Tis a pity that _rhime_ is not sanctioned by law; + "For 'twould _really_ be serving us all, to impose + "A capital fine on a man who spoke prose." +Mark the pleader who clacks, in his client's behalf, +His technical stuff for three hours and a half; +Or the fellow who tells you a long stupid story +And over and over the same lays before ye; +Or the member who raves till the whole house are dosing. +What d'ye say of such men? Why you say they are prosing. +So, of course, then, if _prose_ is so tedious a _crime_, +It of consequence follows, there's _virtue_ in _rhime_. +The best piece of prose that I've heard a long while, +Is what gallant Nelson has sent from THE NILE. +And had he but told us the story in _rhime_, +What a thing 'twou'd be; but, perhaps, he'd no time. +So, I'll do it myself--Oh! 'tis glorious news! +Nine _sail_ of the line! Just a ship for each Muse. +As I live, there's an end of the French and their navy-- +Sir John Warren has sent the Brest fleet to Old Davy. +'Tis in the Gazette, and that, every one knows, +Is sure to be truth, tho' 'tis written in prose. + +* The lines between inverted commas are not spoken. + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Lover's Vows +by Mrs. Inchbald + |