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Dear cause of all my pain,

Though perishing with want, so far from On the wide stormy main,

asking, Thou wast preserved in vain,

She ne'er receives a favor uncompell'd, Though still adored. And, while she ruins, scorns to be obliged : Hadst thou died there unseen,

Let me depart, I know she loves me not. My wounded eyes had been

[Exit Maria. Saved from the direst scene Maid e'er deplored.

Enter Agnes. [Charlotte finds a letter. Char. This visit's kind.

Agnes. Few else would think it so: Char. What's this? - A letter superseribed Those, who would once have thought themto me!

selves much honor'd None could convey it here, but you,'Maria. By the least favour, though 'twere but a look, Ungen'rous, cruel maid! to use me thus ! I could have shown them, now refuse to see To join with flatt'ring men, to break my 'Tis misery enough to be reduced [ine. peace,

To the low level of the common herd, And persecute me to the last retreat!

Who, born to beggary, envy all above them : Mar. Why should it break your peace, to But 'tis the curse of curses to endure hear the sighs

The insolent contempt of those we scorn. Of honourable love? This letter is

Char. By scorning, we provoke them to Char. No matter whence : return it back coniempt, unopen'd:

[mot. | And thus offend, and suffer in our turns : I have no love, no charms, but for my Wil We must have patience. Nor would have any.

Agnes. No, I scorn them yet ; Mar. Alas! Wilmot's dead;

But there's no end of suff'ring: Who can say Or, living, dead to you.

[rish hope; Their sorrows are complete? My wretched Char. I'll not despair : Patience shall che

husband, Nor wrong his honour by unjust suspicion.

(Tired with our woes, and hopeless of relief, I know his truth, and will preserve my own. Grows sick of life, But, to prevent all future importunity, Aud, urged by indignation and despair, Know, thou incessant foe to my repose, Would plunge into eternity at once, Whether he sleeps secure from mortal cares, By foul self-murder. In the deep bosom of the boist'rous main, Char. Gracious Heaven support him! Or, toss'd with tempest, still endures its rage ; ) Agnes. His fixed love for me, No second choice shall violate my vows : Whom he would fain persuade to share his fates High Heaven, which heard them, and abhors And take the same uncertain, dreadful course, the perjured,

Alone withholds his hand. Can witness, they were made without reserve: Char. And may it ever! [tremes of life, Never to be retracted, ne'er dissolved

Agnes. I've known with him, the two ex-
By accident or absence, time or death. The highest happiness, and deepest woe,
Mar. And did your vows oblige you to With all the sharp and bitter aggravations
support

Of such a vast transition-Such a fall
His haughty parents, to your utter ruin? In the decline of life! I have as quick,
Well may you weep, to think on what you've As exquisite a sense of pain, as he,
done.

(more And would do any thing, but die, to end it; Char. I weep to think that I can do no But there my courage fails. Death is the worst For their support. What will become of That fate can bring, and cuts off ev'ry hope. them!

Char. We must not chuse but strive to bear The hoary, helpless, miserable pair!

our lot Mar. What I can't praise, you force me to Without reproach or guilt. By one rash act admire,

Of desperation, we may overthrow And mourn for you, as you lament for them. The merit we've been raising all our days, Your patience, constancy, and resignation, | And lose our own reward. And now, meNerit a better fate.

thinks, Char. So pride would tell me,

Now, more than ever, we have cause to fear, And vain self-love, but I believe them not: And be upon our guard. The hand of Heaven And if by wanting pleasure, I have gain'd Spreads clouds on clouds o'er our benighted Humility, I'm richer for my loss.

heads, Mar. You have the heavenly art still to im- | And, wrapp'd in darkness, doubles our distress. prove

[one, I had, the night last past, repeated twice, Your mind by all events. But here comes A strange and awful dream: I would not yield Whose pride seems to increase with her mis. To fearful superstition, nor despise fortunes.

| Thesadmonition of a friendly power, Her faded dress, unfashionably fine,

That wish'd my good. As ill conceals her poverty, as that

Agnes, I have certain plagues enough, Simind complaisance, her haughty, swelling Without the help of dreams, to make me heart.

wretched.

Char. I would not stake my happiness or The least appearance of advice or caution, On their uncertain credit, nor on aught duty. Sets her impatient temper in a flame. But reason, and the known decrees of Heaven / When grief, that well might huinble, swells Yet dreams have sometimes shown events to our pride, come,

And pride, 'increasing, aggravates our grief, And may excite to vigilance and care. | The tempest must prevail till we are lost. My vision may be such, and sent to warn us, | Heaven granta fairer issue to her sorrows![Exit. (Now we are tried by multiplied afflictions) To mark each motion of our swelling hearts, Scent III.—The Town and Port of Penryn. Lest we attempt to extricate ourselves, And seek deliv'rance by forbidden ways

| Enter Young Wilmot and Eustace, in Indian To keep our hopes and innocence entire,

Habits. Till we're dismiss'd to join the happy dead, Y. Wilm. Welcome, my friend, to Penryn! Or Heaven relieves us here.

Here we're safe.

[the sea, Agnes. Well, to your dream. [night, Eust. Then we're deliver'd twice: first from

Char. Methought, I sat, in a dark winter's And then from men, who, more remorseless, On the wide suin mit of a barren mountain ; 'prey

(murder The sharp, bleak winds, pierced through my On shipwreck'd wretches, and who spoil, and shiv'ring frame,

Those, whomfell tempests, and devouring waves, And storms of hail, and sleet, and driving rains, In all their fury, spared." Beat with impetuous fury on my head,

Y. Wilmot. It is a scandal, Drench'd my chill'd limbs, and pour'd a de- (Though malice must acquit the better sort,) Juge round me

The rude, unpolish'd people here, in Cornwall, On one hand, ever-gentle Patience sat, Have long lain under, ‘and with too much On whose calm bosom I reclined my head;

justice :
And on the other, silent Contemplation. For 'tis an evil, grown almost invet'rate,
At length, to my unclosed and watchful eyes, And asks a bold and skilful hand to cure.
That long had roll'd in darkness, dawn ap- Eust. Your treasure's safe, I hope.
peared;

Y. Wilm. 'Tis here, thank Heaven!
And I beheld a man, an utter stranger, Being in jewels, when I saw our danger,
But of a graceful and exalted mien, [me. I hid it in my bosom.
Who press'd with eager transport to embrace Eust. I observed you,

(thoughts,
I shunn'd his arms; but at some words he spoke, And wonder how you could command your
Which I have now forgot, I turn'd again; In such a time of terror and confusion.
But he was gone-And oh, transporting sight! Y. Wilm. My thoughts were then at homne.
Your son, my dearest Wilmot, fill'd his place! O England! England !

Agnes. If I regarded dreams, I should expect | Thou seat of plenty, liberty, and health, Some fair event from yours.

With transport I behold thy verdant fields, Char. But what's to come,

Thy lofty mountains rich with useful ore, Though more obscure, is terrible indeed. Thy num'rous herds, thy flocks, and winding Methought we parted soon, and when I sought! streams. him,

After a long and tedious absence, Eustace, You and his father-(yes, you both were there) With what delight we breathe our native air, Strove to conceal him from me. I pursued And tread the genial soil that bore us first! you

[earth | 'Tis said, the world is ev'ry wise man's country; Both with my cries, and call'd on heaven and Yet, after having view'd'its various nations, To judge my wrongs, and force you to reveal I'm weak enough, still to prefer my own Where you had hid my love, my life, my Wil. To all I've seen beside You smile, my friend! mot!

[the rest. And think, perhaps, 'tis instinct more than Agnes. Unless you mean to offend me, spare

reason. 'Tis just as likely Wilmot should return, Why, be it so : instinct preceded reason As we become your foes.

E'en in the wisest men, and may sometimes Char. Far be such thought you name Be much the better guide. But, be it either, From Charlotte's breast : but when I heard I must confess, that even death itself Self-murder, it revived the frightful image Appear'd to me with twice its native horrors, Of such a dreadful scene!

| When apprehended in a foreign land. Agnes. You will persist !- fdream, Death is, no doubt, in ev'ry place the same;

Char. Excuse me: I have done. Being a Yet nature casts a look towards home, and most I thought, at least, it could not give offence. Who have it in their power, chuse to expire Agnes. You could not think so, had you Where they first drew their breath. thought at all.

Eust. Believe me, Wilmot,

[at; But I take nothing ill from thee.-Adieu! Your grave reflections were not what I smiled I've tarried longer than I first intended, I own the truth. That we're returned to And my poor husband mourns the while, alone. | England,

[Exit Agnes. Affords me all the pleasure you can feel. Char. She's gone abruptly, and I fear, dis- Yet I must think a warmer passion moves you; pleased.

| Thinking of that, I smiled.

Y. Wilm. O Eustace! Eustace!

1 Y. Wilm. Well ; 'ris no matter, Eustace! Thou know'st, for I've confess'd to thee, I love; I hope my mind's not alter'd for the worse, But having never seen the charming maid, And for my outside-But inform me, friend, Thou canst not know the fierceness of my flame. When I may hope to see you. My bopes and fears, like the tempestuous seas Eust. When you please : . That we have pass'd, now mount me to the skies, You 'll find me at the inn. Now hurl me down from that stupendous Y. Wilm. When I have learn'd my doom, height,

Till then, farewell! [expect me there ; And drive me to the centre. Did you know | Eust. Farewell ! success attend you! How much depends on this important hour,

[Exeunt severally. You would not be surprised to see me thus. The sinking fortune of our ancient house Compelld me, young, to leave my native

ACT II.
country,

Scene I.-Charlotte's House.
My weeping parents, and my lovely Charlotte,
Who ruled, and must for ever rule, my fate.

Enter Charlotte thoughtful; and soon after a O, should my Charlotte, doubtful of my truth,

Servant, from the other Side. Or in despair ever to see me more,

Serv. Madam, a stranger, in a'foreign haHare given herself to some more happy lover!

bit, desires to see you. Distraction's in the thought!-Or, should my | Chår. In a foreign habit! parents,

'Tis strange, and unexpected. But admit him. Grier d for my absence, and oppress’d with |

[ Exit Servant. want,

Who can this stranger be? I know no foHave sunk beneath their burden, and expired,

reigner While I, too late, was flying to relieve them;

Enter Young Wilmot.
The end of all my long and weary travels, Nor any man like this.
The hope that made success itself a blessing, 1 Y. Wilm. Ten thousand joys !
Being defeated, and for ever lost;

[Going to embrace her. What were the riches of the world to me? Char. Sir, you are too bold—Forbear, and Eust. The wretch who fears all that is pos- | let me know

[place. sible,

What business brought you here, or leave the Most suffer more than he who feels the worst Y. Wilm. Perfidious maid !-Am I forgot, A man can feel, yet lives exempt from fear.

or scorn'd? A woman may be false, and friends are mortal; Char. Can I forget a man I never knew? And yet your aged parents may be living,

Y. Wilm. My fears are true; some other And your fair mistress constant.

has her heart : Y. Wilm. True, they may ;

She's lost: my fatal absence has undone me! I doubt, but I despair not. No, my friend !

[Aside. My hopes are strong, and lively as my fears; | O! could thy Wilmot have forgot thee, CharThey tell me, Charlotte is as true as fair;

lotte !

(words import? That we shall meet, never to part again; I Chur. Ha! Wilmot ! say, what do your That I shall see my parents, kiss the tears O, gentle stranger, ease my swelling heart! From their pale hollow cheeks, cheer their sad What dost thou know of Wilmot? hearts,

Y. Wilm. This I know

[spire And drive that gaping phantom, meagre want, When all the winds of heaven seem'd to conFor ever from their board; their days to come Against the stormy main, and dreadful peals Crown all with peace, with pleasure, and of rattling thunder deafen'd ev'ry ear, abundance ;

And drown'd the affrighten'd mariners' loud Receive their fond embraces and their blessings,

cries;

[fames Add be a blessing to them.

When livid lightning spread its sulphurous Eust. Tis our weakness :

Through all the dark horizon, and disclosed Blind to events, we reason in the dark,

The raging seas incensed to his desiruction; And fondly apprehend, what none e'er found When the good ship, in which he was ennOr ever shall, pleasure and pain unmix'd ;

bark'd,

(surge, And flatter and torment ourselves by turns, Broke, and, o'erwhelm’d by the impetuous With what shall never be.

Sunk to the oozy bottom of the deep, Y. Wilm. I'll go this instant

And left him struggling with the warring waves; To seek my Charlotte, and explore my fate. In that dread moment, in the jaws of death, East. What, in that foreign habit?

When his strength fail'd, and ev'ry hope forY. Wilm. That's a trifle,

sook him,

fbling lips, Sot worth my thoughts.

And his last breath press'd towards his tremEsst. The hardships you've endured, The neighbouring rocks that echo'd to his And your long stay beneath the burning zone, mioan, Where one eternal sultry summer reigns, Return'd no sound articulate but---Charlotte. Have marr'd the native hue of your compexion : Char. The fatal tempest, whose description Methinks you look more like a sun-burnt In

strikes Than a Briton.

[dian, | The hearer with astonishment, is ceased;

still ?

And Wilmot is at rest. The fiercer storm

approaches weeping, and gives him Of swelling passions, that o'erwhelms the soul,

her hand; and then, turning to And rages worse than the mad foaming seas

wards him, sinks upon his bosom. In which he perish'd, ne'er shall vex him more. Why dost thou weep? Why dost thou tremble Y. Wilm. Thou seem'st to think he's dead; thus? enjoy that thought ;

Why doth thy panting heart, and cautious Persuade yourself, that what you wish is true,

touch,

[thy fears? And triumph in your falschood. Yes, he's Speak thee but half convinced? Whence are dead,

Why art thou silent ? Canst thou doubt we You were his fate. The cruel winds and waves, That cast him pale and breathless on the shore, Char. No, Wilmot ! no; I'm blind with Spared him for greater woes—to know his

too much light: Charlotte,

O'ercome with wonder, and oppress'd with joy. Forgetting all her vows to him and Heaven, This vast profusion of extreme delight, Had cast him from her thoughts.- Then, Rising at once, and bursting from despair, then he died;

Defies the aid of words, and mocks description. But never can have rest. E'en now he wanders, | But, for one sorrow, one sad scene of anguish, A sad, repiping, discontented ghost

That checks the swelling torrent of my joys, The unsubstantial shadow of himself;

I could not bear the transport. And pours his plaintive groans in ihy deaf Y. Wilm. Let me know it: And stalks, unseen, before thee. [ears, Give me my portion of thy sorrow, Charlotte! Char. 'Tis enough :

Let me partake thy grief, or bear it for thee. Detested falsehood now has done its worst.

Char. Alas, my Wilmot! these sad tears are And art thou dead? And wouldst thou die,

thine; my Wilmot,

| They flow for thy misfortunes. I am pierced For one thou thought'st unjust? Thou soul of With all the agonies of strong compassion. truth !

[press With all the bitter anguish you must feel, What must be done? Which way shall ex. When you shall hear your parentsUnutterable woe? Or how convince

Y. Wilm. Are no more. Thy dear departed spirit, of the love,

Char. You apprehend me wrong. Th' eternal love, and never failing faith

Y. Wilm. Perhaps I do, Of thy much-injured, lost, despairing Char-Perhaps you mean to say, the greedy grave lotte!

(hope not too soon ! | Was satisfied with one, and one is left Y. Wilm. Be still, my Hutt'ring heart; | To bless my tonging eyes. But which, my Perhaps I dream, and this is all illusion.

Charlotte ?

Aside. | Char. Aflict yourself no more with groundChar. If, as sone teach, the spirit after death, less fears : Free from the bounds and ties of sordid earth, Your parents both are living. Their distress Can trace us to our most conceal'd retreat, | The poverty to which they are reduced, See all we act, and read our very thoughts; In spite of my weak aid, was what I mourn To thee, O Wilmot ! kneeling, I appeal, That poverty, in age, to them whose youth Ife'er I swerved in action, word, or thought, Was crown' with full prosperity, I fear, Or ever wish'd to taste a joy on earth

Is worse, much worse, than death. That center'd not in thee, since last we parted Y. Wilm. My joy's complete ! May we ne'er meet again; but thy loud wrongs | My parents living, and possessid of thee.. So close the ear of mercy to my cries,

From this blest hour, the happiest of my life, That I may never see those bright abodes I'll date my rest. My anxious hopes and fears, Where truth and virtue only have admission, My weary travels, and my dangers past, And thou inhabit'st now!

Are now rewarded all: now I rejoice Y. Wilm. Assist me, Heaven!

In my success, and count my riches gain. Preserve my reason, memory, and sense! For know, my soul's best treasure! I have O moderate my fierce tumultuous joys,

wealth Or their excess will drive me to distraction. Enough to glut e'en avarice itself: 0. Charlotte! Charlotte! lovely, virtuous maid! | No more shall cruel want, or proud contemple, Can thy firm mind, in spite of time and ab Oppress the sinking spirits, or insult sence,

The hoary heads of those who gave me berta Remain unshaken, and support its truth; Char. 'Tis now, O riches, I conceive your And yet thy frailer memory retain.

worth : No image, no idea of thy lover ?

You are not base, nor can you be superfluous, Why dost thou gaze so wildly? Look on me; But when misplaced in base and sordid hatid Turn thy dear eyes this way; observe me well. Fly, fly, my Wilmot! leave thy lappy Chat Have scorching climes, time, and this strange | Thy filial piety, the sighs and tear flot habit,

Of thy lanienting parents, call thee hence So changed and so disguised thy faithful Wilmot, Y. Wilm. I have a friend, the partner That nothing in my voice, my face, or mien,

my voyage, Remains to tell my Charlotte I am he? Who, in the storm last night, was shipwreel

[After viewing him some time, she with ine.

Char. Shipwreck'd last night 20, you im-1 Rand. O, Wilmot !-0, my master! mortal powers !

[ed? Are you return'd ? What have you suffer'd! How were you preserv- Y. Wilm. I have not yet embraced Y. Wilm. Let that, and all my other strange My parents—I shall see you at my father's. escapes,

Rand. No, I am discharged from thence And perilous adventures, be the theme

O, sir, such ruine Of many a happy winter-night to come.

Y. Wilm. I've heard it all, and hasten to My present purpose was t'entreat my angel,

relieve them ; To know this friend, this other better Wilmot, Sure, Heaven hath bless'd me to that very end: And come with him this evening to my fa- | I've wealth enough-nor shalt thou want a part. ther's :

Rand. I have a part already-I am blest I'll send him to thee.

In your success, and share in all your joys. Char. I consent with pleasure.

Ý. Wilm. I doubt it not.But tell me, dost Y. Wilm. Heavens! what a sight! How

thou think, shall I bear my jay!

| My parents not suspecting my return, My parents, yours, my friends, all will be mine. That I may visit them, and not be known? If such the early hopes, the vernal bloom, Rand. 'Tis hard for me to judge.--You are, The distant prospect of my future bliss,

already, Theo what the ruddy autuinn? What the fruit, | Grown so familiar to me, that I wonder The full possession of thy heavenly charms? | I knew you not at first: yet it may be; (Exeunt severally. For you're much alter’d, and they think you

dead.

Y. Wilm. This is certain ; Charlotte beheld SCENE. II.-A Street in Penryn.

me long,

And heard my loud reproaches and complaints, Enter Randal.

Without rememb'ring she had ever seen me.

My mind, at ease, grows wanton: I would fain Rand. Poor! poor! and friendless! whi. Refine on happiness. Why may I not ther shall I wander?

Indulge my curiosity, and try
And to what point direct my views and hopes? If it be possible, by seeing first
A menial servant !-No-What, shall I live My parents as a stranger, to improve
Here in this land of freedom, live distinguish'd, Their pleasure by surprises
And inark'd the willing slave of some proud Rand. It may, indeed,
subject!

Enhance your own, to see from what despair
To swell his useless train for broken fragments, Your timely coming, and unhoped success,
The cold remains of his superfluous board ?- | Have given you power to raise them.
I would aspire to something more and better. L Y. Wilm. I remember,
Turn thy eyes then to the prolific ocean, E'er since we learn'd together, you excell'd
Whose spacious bosom opens to thy view : | In writing fairly, and could imitate
There deathless honour, and unenvied wealth, Whatever hand you saw, with great exactness.
Have often crown'd the brave adventurer's toils. I therefore beg you'll write, in Charlotte's name
This is the native uncontested right,

And character, a letter to my father ; The fair inheritance of ev'ry Briton,

And recomiend me, as a friend of hers, That dares put in his claim. ---My choice is To his acquaintance. made:

Rand. Sir, if you desire it A long farewell to Cornwall, and to England ! | And yetIf I return-But stay, what stranger's this, Y.'Wilm. Nay, no objections ! 'Twill save Who, as he views me, seems to mend his pace? time,

[tion, Enter Young Wilmot.

| Most precious with me now. For the decepY. Wilm. Randal ! the dear companion of If doing what my Charlotte will approve, my youth !

'Cause done for me, and with a good intent, Sare, lavish fortune means to give me all Deserves the name, I'll answer it myself. I could desire, or ask, for this blest day, If this succeeds, I purpose to defer And leave me nothing to expect hereafter ! Discoy'ring who I'am till Charlotte comes, Rand. Your pardon, sir! I know but one And thou, and all who love me. Ev'ry friend on earth

Who witnesses my happiness to-night, Could properly salate me by the title

Will, by partaking, multiply my joys. You're pleased to give me; and I would not Rand. You grow luxurious in imagination. think

Could I deny you avght, I would not write That you are he--that you are Wilmot! This letter. 'To say true, I ever thought Y. Wilm. Why?

Your boundless curiosity a weakness. Rand. Because I could not bear the disap- Y. Wilm. What canst thou blame in this? pointment,

| Rand. Your pardon, sir ! If I should be deceived.

| Perhaps I spoke too freely; 7. Wilm. I am pleased to hear it:

I'm ready to obey your orders. Thy friendly fears better express thy thoughts

1 Y. Wilm. I am much thy debtor, Than words could do.

But I shall find a time to quit thy kindness.

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