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Preserve my reason, memory, and sense!
O moderate my fierce tumultuous joys,
Or their excess will drive me to distraction.
0, Charlotte ! Charlotte ! lovely, virtuous maid !
Can thy firm mind, in spite of time and absence,
Remain unshaken, and support its truth ;
And yet thy frailer memory retain
No image, no idea of thy lover?
Why dost thou gaze so wildly? Look on me;
Turn thy dear eyes

this

way; observe me well. Have scorching climates, time, and this strange habit, So chang'd and so disguis'd thy faithful Wilmot, That nothing in my voice, my face, or mien, Remains to tell my Charlotte I am he?

[After viewing him some Time, she approaches

weeping, and gives him her Hand; and then,

turning towards him, sinks upon his Bosom. Why dost thou weep? Why dost thou tremble thus ? Why doth thy panting heart, and cautious touch, Speak thee but half convinc'd? Whence are thy fears? Why art thou silent ? Canst thou doubt me still? Char. No, Wilmot ! no; I'm blind with too much

light:
O'ercome with wonder, and oppress'd with joy.
This vast profusion of extreme delight,
Rising at once, and bursting from despair,
Defies the aid of words, and mocks description.
But, for one sorrow, one sad scene of anguish,
That checks the swelling torrent of my joys,
I could not bear the transport.

Y. Wilm. Let me know it :
Give me my portion of thy sorrow,

Charlotte !
Let me partake thy grief, or bear it for thee.

Char. Alas, my Wilmot ! these sad tears are thine ; They flow for thy misfortunes. I am pierc'd With all the agonies of strong compassion, With all the bitter anguish you must feel, When

you

shall hear your parents

D

's

Y, Wilm. Are no more.
Char. You apprehend me wrong.

Y. Wilm. Perhaps I do,
Perhaps you mean to say, the greedy grave
Was satisfy'd with one, and one is left
To bless my longing eyes. But which, my Charlotte ?
Char. Afflict yourself no more with groundless

fears :
Your parents both are living. Their distress-
The poverty to which they are reduc'd,
In spite of my weak aid, was what I mourn'd:
That poverty, in age, to them whose youth
Was crown'd with full prosperity, I fear,
Is worse, much worse, than death.

Y, Wilm. My joy's complete !
My parents living, and possess'd of thee !
From this blest hour, the happiest of my life,
I'll date my rest. My anxious hopes and fears,
My weary travels, and my dangers past,
Are now rewarded all : Now I rejoice
In my success, and count my riches gain. -
For know, my soul's best treasure! I have wealth
Enough to glut e'en avarice itself :
No more shall cruel want, or proud contempt,
Oppress the sinking spirits, or insult
The hoary heads of those who gave me being.
Char. 'Tis now, O riches, I conceive your

worth: You are not base, nor can you be superfluous, But when misplac'd in base and sordid hands. Fly, fly, my Wilmot ! leave thy happy Charlotte! Thy filial piety, the sighs and tears Of thy lamenting parents, call thee hence.

Y. Wilm. I have a friend, the partner of my voyage, Who, in the storm last night, was shipwreck'd with

ne.

Char. Shipwreck'd last night!-0, you immortal

powers ; What have you suffered! How were you preservd?)

Y. Wilm. Let that, and all my other strange es

capes,
And perilous adventures, be the theme
Of many a happy winter night to come.
My present purpose was t'intreat my angel,
To know this friend, this other better Wilmot,
And come with him this evening to my father's:
I'll send him to thee.

Char. I consent with pleasure.
Y. Wilm. Heavens ! what a night! How shall I

bear my joy!
My parents, yours, my friends, all will be mine,
If such the early hopes, the vernal bloom,
The distant prospect of my future bliss,
Then what the ruddy autumn: What the fruit,
The full possession of thy heavenly charms!

(Exeunt severally.

SCENE II.

A Street in Penryn.

Enter RANDAL. Rand. Poor! poor!' and friendless! whither shall

I wander? And to what point direct my views and hopes ? A menial servant !-No-What, shall I live Here in this land of freedom, live distinguish'd, And mark’d the willing slave of some proud subject ! To swell his useless train for broken fragments, The cold remains of his superfluous board? I would aspire to something more and better.

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Turn thy eyes then to the prolific ocean,
Whose spacious bosom opens to thy view:
There deathless honour, and unenvy'd wealth,
Have often crown'd the brave adventurer's toils.
This is the native uncontested right,
The fair inheritance of ev'ry Briton,
That dares put in his claim.-My choice is made :
A long farewell to Cornwall, and to England !
If I return-But stay, what stranger's this,
Who, as he views me, seems to mend his pace ?

Enter YOUNG WILMOT.
Y. Wilm. Randal! the dear companion of my

youth !-
Sure, lavish fortune means to give me all
I could desire, or ask, for this blest day,
And leave me nothing to expect hereafter !

Rand. Your pardon, sir! I know but one on earth
Could properly salute me by the title
You're pleas'd to give me ; and I would not think
That you are he-that you are Wilmot!

Y. Wilm. Why?
Rand. Because could not bear the disappoint-

ment,
If I should be deceiv’d.

Y. Wilm. I am pleas'd to hear it :
Thy friendly fears better express thy thoughts
Than words could do.

Rand. O, Wilmot !-0, my master!
Are
you

return'd?
Y. Wilm. I have not yet embrac'd
My parents—I shall see you at my father's.
Rand. No, I am discharg'd from thence-0, sir,

such ruin
Y. Wilm. I've heard it all, and hasten to relieve

them : Sure, Heaven hath bless'd me to that very

end : I've wealth enough-nor shalt thou want a part.

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be ;

Rand. I have a part already-I am blest
In

your success, and share in all your joys.
Ý. Wilm. I doubt it not-But tell me, dost thou

think,
My parents not suspecting my return,
That I may visit them, and not be known?
Rand. "I'is hard for me to judge—You are, al-

ready, Grown so familiar to me, that I wonder I knew you not at first : yet it may For you're much alter'd, and they think you dead.' Y. Wilm. This is certain

i Charlotte beheld me
long,
And heard my loud reproaches, and complaints,
Without rememb'ring she had ever seen me.
My mind, at ease, grows wanton : I would fain
Refine on happiness. Why may I not
Indulge my curiosity, and try
If it be possible, by seeing first
My parents as a stranger, to improve
Their pleasure by surprise ?

Rand. It may, indeed,
Enhance your own, to see from what despair
Your timely coming, and unhop'd success,
Have given you power to raise them.

Y. Wilm. I remember,
E'er since we learn'd together, you excell'd
In writing fairly, and could imitate
Whatever hand you saw, with great exactness.
I therefore beg you'll write, in Charlotte's name
And character, a letter to my father ;
And recommend me, as a friend of her's,
To his acquaintance.

Rand. Sir, if you desire it

And yet

.Y. Wilm. Nay, no objections ! 'Twill save time, Most precious with me now.

For the deception, If doing what

my

Charlotte will approve,

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