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But yet my thoughts will follow this dear object!
Vain visions all! And yet her goodness brings
A retrospect of joys which still obtrude,
And call remembrance to a weeping task!
I'll give these briny visitors, free welcome.

(Leaning on his hand, weeping.)

This, which erewhile she (credulous soul)
Believ'd a beauteous and delightful temple,
A choicest piece of the Great Architect,
Wherein the throne of Love erected was,
And Truth and every virtue seem'd to dwell;
Now must to her appear a wizzard's tower,
Where Sin enthron'd sits grinning at Deceit,
And Perfidy and every vice applaud!
[Enter GAOLER.]

Gaoler. Your grandfather, sir.

Young R.


Let him be admitted.

[Exit Gaoler

(Young Raymond continues lying, resting his head on his



Old R. Heav'n behold this youthful sacrifice

To stern and unrelenting justice offer'd,

From thy high throne of mercy, pray look down
With pity and with pardon on his soul.
Support my tott'ring frame a little while-
Give me but pow'r to take a last farewell,
And then the business of my life may close,
If thy good will allow it so to be :-

His grief, poor boy, hath mark'd him out a grave.

Look ye, and see who comes to visit thee:

(looking at him)

Rise, rise, dear boy, and let me see thy face,

For grief, though strong, cannot disgrace it now!

And see, my old eyes keep thine company (weeps)

Come to my arms whilst I have pow'r to use them,
And let me bless thee with a father's blessing,

Ere fate shall rob me of the pow'r to do so.

(Old Raymond assists the other to rise.)

Young R. Oh yes, my dearest, best, and kindest friend, Like a vile serpent I'll hang 'pon thy neck

Just for a moment, till I sting thy ear

With a confession that will strike thee dumb;
Of a black, damning crime, a stain to nature,
Which all I can do will not purge away!

Old R. What crime doth hang so heavy on thy soul? Unfold, unfold the dreadful secret to me:

My heart heaves high, and now sinks deeply in me—
I trembling listen for the sad disclosure.

Young R. My brother!-Oh my father! how can I My murd'rous treach'ry to thee ever tell!

Old R. What means my son?

[Enter DELMORE.]

Young R. Ha! What art thou? who thus, Like my slain brother, grown from youth to manhood, Dost here obtrude upon my withering sight, Unfolding, without speech, my blackest guilt? A wild confusion plays about my brain, Extends my arteries, thrills o'er my nerves, And drives me to despair.

Del. I am thy brother!

(goes near to him)

Young R. My brother! no, no, it cannot be so,

I am unworthy of so kind a name ;

Thou shouldst have said I was his murderer!-
Del. 1 am, indeed, thy brother-tby long-lost,
Thy loving brother, sorrowing ev'n to death
For thy sad, gloomy, and unhappy fate.

Young R. Is't possible! and art thou still alive!

(advancing, steadfastly looks at, and touches him)

Thanks, great heaven! a dreadful weight's remov'd:

And my soul feels in death new life and health,

My sickly and despairing heart again

Assumes a vigor lost to it before,

And I may yet repent and be forgiven.

Old R. His senses are disorder'd-grief makes him


Come, look at us, it was thy noble brother

Who did advance the sum I told thee of.

Young R. Alas, dear sir, I dare not call thee brother ; I thank thee with a sore repentant heart,

And wish to beg thy pardon, and so die;
But know not how to tell the crime and live.
Del. I do not understand thee: pray be plain,

And tell me what doth labor in thy breast?

Young R. Wilt thou believe I caus'd thy wretched exileGave thee to slaves, consented to thy death?

Del. Oh wherefore, brother?What cause did I give Ever to thee for such unkindness to me?

Old R. (aside) My soul is all amazement and surprise! It is impossible, it cannot be so!

Young R. No; all my thoughts are on that single object.

To me thou art an heav'nly messenger,

Arriv'd in time to stop my fleeting soul
From journeying to the dismal gates of hell.
Can'st thou forgive me, and quickly too?

For my time's measur'd with a hand severe;

My number'd minutes are, alas, but few!

Old R. (aside) I cannot now disturb his anguish'd


Or I'd inquire into the wond'rous tale,

The subject of his late and strange confession :

But after-time, perchance, may it develope. (turns to him) I do, poor boy, here offer up my prayers,

That with true penitence thy hopes be strengthen'd,

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And that assurance to thy soul be given

Of future bliss ere death shall close thine eyes. [Enter GAOLER.]

Gaol. Sir, I have the Sheriff's order that thou prepar❜st Thyself and come with me.-You must leave this place. (to Old Raymond and Delmore)


Old R. Yes, my friend, we will go, but spare a


pray thee, but to take a last farewell ;

Heaven bless, comfort, and support thee!

Farewell! (Old and Young Raymond embrace)

Young R. Dost thou, indeed, pardon thy wretched


Who suffer'd more than death a thousand times,
With dread, that thou hadst suffer'd it but once?
Del. I do, I do! (they embrace) Farewell!-farewell!
[Enter another GAOLER.]

Gaol. Bring out the prisoner, for his time is past.
Young R. I thank thee, and once more I call thee


A good and kind, a dear forgiving brother.

Old R. Farewell! and may we meet in those blest


Where souls are bathing in eternal bliss.

[Exit Old Raymond and Delmore.

Young R. I trust we shall; Hope hath resum'd her


And as the light doth close upon my eyes,

I feel a comfort rising in my soul

Greater than I expected or deserv❜d.

[Exeunt with Gaolers.

SCENE II. The place of Execution.

[A Scaffold hung with black, at the further end of the Stage. A part of the apparatus of death discovered.Marshalmen, Constables, and Spectators.-Executioner on the Scaffold.]

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Enter YOUNG RAYMOND and GAOLERS. (A CLERGYMAN meets them as they enter.)

Cler. Your venerable grandfather requested me
To meet you here and join my prayers to thine.
Young R. For this great goodness I thank him and you.
He always was a tender loving man ;

Supply'd the gentle offices of parent.
The only fault which his soft nature has
Is thinking all men blameless as himself,

Needing no other check than their own honor.

Cler. Thou hast thy soul prepar'd with true contrition To meet th' inevitable stroke of death?

Young R. I've ta'en a retrospect of all my vices,
Of avarice, drunkenness, and dissipation,
Of black designs 'gainst innocence and truth,
To the last crime for which I come to suffer,
And found the former brought this ruin on nie.

The dismal crisis of my fate is near!
Here end the gay delusions of this world,` 1
Here vice and folly meet their just reward!

(bell tolls)

Turning to the scaffold; the bell tolls.) "Tis dreadful! but let Heav'n's high will be done! Oh! were but man from my sad fate to learn, And well remember this great solemn truth, That certain punishment on crimes awaits, I shall not for the world have liv'd in vain.

(Raymond and the Clergyman ascend the scaffold together. The bell continues tolling, and the curtain falls slowly as they ascend.)

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