Imagens das páginas

ever to love under adverse circumstances, though the execrable Isabel trampled on my first hopes; yet she whom I have now chosen, Angelina, the unsophisticated Angelina,, may not-and yet I have a rival, even with her-I fear, a dangerous one. Fool that I was to suffer Theodore to see the lovely cottager, to suffer her to meet that accomplished nobleman, but that's past; go, Lewis, send Hubert and Lascar hither to me immediately. (Exit Isabel) My determination is fixed at last-Angelina must be removed out of Theodore's reach; he is gay, accomplished and handsome, but Angelina has a soul superior to external show! Often, under the disguise of a friar, I have conversed with her; I have forgot her exquisite form, in my admiration of the beauties of her mind.

She was

not designed by nature for a cottage: a court is the proper sphere of Angelina.


In yonder cottage dwells a maid,

Bewitching, young, and gay;

Her blooming beauties, like the morn,

Expanding into day.

This lovely nymph,

In form a Sylph,

Such matchless beauties own;

My wealth and fame,

I'd here disclaim,

To live for her alone.

To guard the footsteps of my fair,
As through the meads she rove;

To twine a garland for her hair,

And tell her how I love.

This lovely nymph, &c.


Ethel. My brave fellows, I depend on you. fidelity for the performance of a trifling service; I have tried you often, and still found you worthy to be trusted; be faithful and I will reward you well.

Las. Where you lead, captain, your band will never halt.

Ethel. (aside) Angelina's cries would unman me, I dare not stay.

Hub. You muse, captain, do not think we'll shrink from danger?

Ethel. No, no, Hubert, there's little danger in this enterprise; you know old Ambrose ?

Hub. O yes, this is his cottage.

Ethel. He has a daughter.

Hub. Oh, ho! I understand you, and if she were in your possession-is it not so, captain?

Ethel. You have found my meaning, Hubert.

Las. Oh, if that's all, captain, leave it to Hubert and and if the wench is not your's this very night, never me e; trust the word of a bandit again.

Ethel. The evening is fast closing, conceal yourselves near this place, and watch your opportunity to seize Angelina, but use her gently, treat her as the wife of your chief, do you mark me? and bring her to the ruins.

[Exit Ethelwolfe and Isabel.

Hub. Come then, Lascar, to our post-'tis almost dark.




Theo. To morrow then, dearest Angelina, I set out for


Vienna, to obtain my father's consent to our union.

[ocr errors]

Ang. Yet do not be too precipitate, Theodore, nor rashly, for my sake, risque his displeasure.

Theo. I do not despair of obtaining his consent, his affection for an only son is very great; besides, he knows how to value such merit as your's.

Ang. I fear, my Lord, you are too partial to your poor cottage-maid.


Say, when to gilded courts returning,
Some brighter beauty meets your view,

Will you remember Angelina,

And will you to your vows be true?


Believe me, love, no gay illusion

Can chase your image from my heart;
And fear no rival 'mongst those beauties,
Who ape what thou by nature art.

Ang. I wish this journey could have been avoided, 'tis a long way from hence to Vienna.

Theo. Your wishes are my laws, sweet maid, bid me stay and I will obey you.

Ang. Oh no, my Lord; for, though but the daughter of a peasant, I have been taught to respect my parents, and should I presume to derogate from what you owe to yours, I should blush for my folly. And yet I feel a secret presentiment of evil from this approaching separation, a chill at my heart which seems to say, we part for ever. Theo. Nay, prithee Angelina, 'tis surely for me to dread a rival.


Behold, sweet maid, yon blushing rose,

An emblem fair of thee;

Its varied beauties are like your's,

From affectation free.

And may the graces of your mind,

Unsullied still remain ;

And, like the fragrance of the rose,
Their purity retain.

I have overstaid my usual hour of returning to the castle, so for the present, Angelina, farewell-to-morrow I will see you again.

Ang. Farewell, my Lord. I see my father returning from his labor.

[Exit Theodore.

What could be the mysterious story my mother was abou to relate when Theodore's entrance interrupted her! (Hubert advances from his concealment, but seeing Am

brose and Theresa approaching, he retires again.) The. (entering) Well, child; well, love; is his Lordship gone?

Ang. Yes, mother:-well, my dear father (to Ambrose) are you not very fatigued?

Am. No, my love, my fatigue is all forgotten in kind welcome from you and Theresa.


The. Aye, aye, Ambrose"; it wont be long thus, you wont be forced to work so hard, when once Angelina is married-dear heart, how lightsome I feel; why Angelina thou'lt be a Marchioness, and have servants, and carriages, and fine cloaths, and jewels, I warrant. Lord love thee, how handsome thou'lt look, and I am sure thou'lt take care of your poor old father and mother.

Ang. Yes indeed I will, if I am so fortunate as you expect.

The. If why art thou not sure of being married to Lord Theodore?

Ang. Ah no, mother, if it depended solely on him, I do not doubt his generosity, but will his father, the Marquis, consent to his union with a cottager?

The. Oh, ho! I'd have the Marquis know it would not

disgrace his family, forsooth. Who knows but you may be descended from one quite as noble: for my part, I do not doubt it in the least.

Ang. Not doubt it, mother! what can this mean? is this the mysterious story you promised to communicate, ог what can it mean?

The. Mean, why truly it means no more than truth. Am. That you are not our child, Angelina.

Ang. Not your child! oh, in pity do not disown me. Am. The Saints can witness how fondly I love thee; still thou art not mine, nor do I know who were thy parents. Thou wert consigned to our care by a stranger whose appearance was noble-he promised to reclaim thee again, but after sixteen years having intervened, I begin to fear he may never return; he swore us to secrecy, but now that you are at an age to know the consequence, I venture to intrust it to you: perhaps I should before, but I feared the loss of thy affection-I loved thee as my own, Angelina; I loved to hear thee call me father.

The. Alack the day! and I thought you would not regard me as your mother.

Ang. My dear father, my kind mother, sure you could not suspect me capable of such ingratitude.


While in this heart remembrance lives,

And vigor to affection gives,

Be it my task to prove,

The Orphan that your bounty rear'd,

And with parental care endear'd,

Will still deserve your love.

But you forget my father is fatigued, come, let us go in.
The. Aye, come in, Ambrose, your supper is ready.
Am. Come, Angelina, love; the night-air is damp.
[Exeunt Ambrose and Theresa.

« AnteriorContinuar »