Em. My generous friend! No, I will not contract a marriage contrary to my inclinations. [She hesitates a moment.] But a few hours are passed, Mr. Francis, since I refused you this hand. If still it be the object of your wishes, take it, it is your's. My esteem, my most profound esteem, was your's, even before I knew you personally; and if I do not love you with the same ardor that I have loved another, let a sweet, a tender friendship supply the place of love, and insure our mutual happiness. Mr. H. If this be not mere perverseness, I don't know what is. When I wanted her to have him, she wou'dn't; and now that I want her to have another, she will have nobody else. Mr. F. Be calm, my cousin, this is not the moment to discuss such a matter. [To Emily.] My charming friend, flattered beyond expression by so great a proof of your esteem, I must yet repeat the same thing to you, that we are all at present too much agitated to discuss an affair of such high importance with the calmness it requires. If, when we are more composed Mr. H. Mighty well, Sir, mighty well; but we shall see presently whether 'tis you or I that have the disposal of Emily's hand. [Aside.] I think I've now done enough for Mrs. Harley; she may fight the rest of the battle herself. [Exit. Mr. F. My generous Emily, far be it from me to take advantage of a sentiment, which I fear has its origin only in a too recent disappointment. If some time hence, when cool reflection may be your's, these sentiments should still be the cherished inmates of your bosom, we will talk farther on the subject. Em. Oh! I am sure they cannot be changed. Mr. F. Wait only till to-morrow. A night's rest will compose your spirits. Would that I could now remain with you. I dare flatter myself that I might have power to tranquillise you farther; but business of importance calls me elsewhere. Farewell, my lovely girl, and consider always how much less poignant are the feelings of the injured than of the injurer. [Exit. Em. Why have I been so long blind to this man's merits? Yes, Lucy, nothing now can alienate me from him. He who acts so generously as a friend, never can be other than a tender and indulgent husband; and if I cannot love a second time to the excess I once have loved, I will endeavour to render my friendship so like a stronger passion, that it may be mistaken for that passion itself. Lu. You are in the right, Madam, you cannot fail of being happy with Mr. Francis; he will soon make you forget Mr. Clermont. Em. Yes, 'tis resolved. I hasten for the last time to see the traitor, to upbraid him with my wrongs, and bid him farewell for ever. Then, from that moment, shall my heart be wholly resigned to its new attachment. [Exit with Lucy. ACT V. SCENE I. MR. HARLEY's house is seen at a distance in the back ground. Before the house is a lawn and shrubbery, which is terminated by an iron pallisade about half way up the stage, in which is a gate. On the left hand, towards the front of the stage, appears Farmer Thompson's house in the side scene. On the right hand is a field gate, close by which passes the high road to London. Several trees are scattered about. The night is just closed in. mise. CLERMONT comes out from the farm-house. Cler. She comes not! Can she have forgotten her proOh, no! I know her heart-know that she cannot designedly have failed me. She is, perhaps, so strictly watched, that to escape has been impossible. What can be done? The night already is closed in, and I must return to town-return without the sweet consolation of one last adieu. But hark, some one approaches. (He goes towards the iron gate. Mr. Francis comes down the lawn, advances to the iron gate, and opens it.) Ah, no! it is no female form, no female footstep. I had best not be seen. [He conceals himself behind a tree.] Mr. F. [Looking about.] I understand my wanderer to be at the farm. My heart flutters at the thoughts of this interview. If he be indeed the man I seek, and still be culpable!-But hark [At this moment Warren appears at the gate, which opens on the road, and speaks as he comes up to it.] War. Come on, Roberts. Charge the postilions not to quit the horses, and to keep the chaise-door open. Mr. F. What can this mean? I may as well conceal myself, and observe. [He goes behind a tree.] Cler. [Peeping from his concealment.] Great heaven! Surely 'tis Warren's voice? What new villainy can he be meditating? [He retires again.] [Warren and Roberts come forward through the gate.] Rob. I have brought your pistols. Mr. F. [Peeping from the tree.] They seem robbers. War. [Taking the pistols.] It was well by way of precaution, though I do not suppose we shall have occasion for them. Emily will not make much resistance. Cler. (Peeping from the tree.) Emily! Mr. F. (Peeping from the tree.) Emily! War. Come on, all is safe. (He and Roberts go towards the iron gate.) Aha, she has left the gate open to save time. These stars are somewhat too bright--a good black cloud would have kept our secret better. Rob. And have been more favorable to Emily's timidity. War. She comes not-yet the hour is past. Rob. By five minutes at least-Oh! the impatience of love. War. Rather the alarms of fear-think it is question of a fine woman and a large fortune. Rob. You should have put the fortune first, for I believe you think more of that than of the woman. And for what part of the continent are you bound? War. For Hamburgh. 'Tis thither that I have transported the treasures which my industry has placed out of the reach of Mrs. Harley's extravagance, and I waited but for this last, this greatest of all my treasures, to follow them. Rob. You won't even leave Mr. Harley his daughter to console him in his bankruptcy. Mr. F. (Peeping from the tree.) His bankruptcy! War. I cannot see, without the profoundest admiration, how tranquilly the old gentleman dreams on, with his foot on the very brink of a tremendou precipice. He deserves it all, however, for suffering himself to be so duped by a vain and silly wife, herself the dupe of two of the vilest cheats in all London. But hark! I hear light footsteps on the turf. She comes! she comes! EMILY comes down the lawn, leaning upon Lucy. They both pass through the iron gate. Em. I tremble, I scarcely dare advance. Lu. Courage, Madam, 'tis but a few steps now. Cler. Peeping from the tree.) Great heaven! 'tis she! Mr. F. (Peeping from the tree.) Oh, woman! 'tis she! Em. I know not how I have found resolution to take this step. Lu. I think I hear some one. Perhaps 'tis he. War. Yes, yes, you have nothing to fear, my lovely girl, 'tis he. Lu. (Terrified.) Heavens! 'tis the voice of Warren. Em. (Starting.) Sure 'tis the voice of Warren. War. Yes, 'tis indeed the voice of Warren-the transported, the enamoured Warren. Em. What do you want, Sir? What brings you here at this late hour, in this suspicious manner? War. There is no occasion to dissemble, my love. True, I am not alone, as you perhaps expected; but this is only a friend, who will assist us in our flight. Em. How, Sir, whence this audacity? Lu. (Whispering Warren.) You have made a vile blunder here: haste and begone, or dread the consequence. War. Begone!What! in the very moment of my happiness! Shake off this timidity, my dearest girl; 'tis amiable, I must confess; yet believe me, we have nothing to fear. Em. Indeed, I think I have every thing to fear. Help! help! (Clermont and Mr. Francis rush out from their concealment. Clermont endeavours to seize Warren by the arm, crying" STOP, TRAITOR!" Warren takes a pistol from his belt, and aims at Clermont, who contrives to turn aside his arm, so that the pistol misses him. Mr. Francis endeavours to seize on Roberts, who escapes by the gate on the road. The Farmer and his Servante come out from the farm, with lights, carrying pitchforks, pokers, tongs, &c. &c. Em. Ah, Clermont! Clermont! (She faints into Lucy's arms.) Lu. Be comforted, Madam, pray be comforted; Mr. Clermont is not killed, and Mr. Francis is here. Mr. F. My sweet Emily! Cler. (To Warren, who struggles to escape from him.) No, traitor, hope not to escape me. (Mr. Harley and Sir James come out from the house hastily, followed by John and other servants with lights.) Mr. H. What the devil is all this to do about? Robbers, I suppose. Robbers of a singular kind, however-faces all pretty well known at my house. May I ask the meaning of all this? Mr. Warren is in custody, while Mr. Clermont has taken upon himself the office of constable. I hope my worthy partner was not attempting to rob my worthy clerk of his worthy mistress. Mr. F. No, Sir, Mr. Warren aimed at a much higher prize. But Emily revives. How is it, my sweet cousin? Em. Where is he? is he hurt? is he killed? Oh, answer me, tell me, is he safe? Mr. F. He is, my dearest Emily. Pray compose yourself. Cler. (To the Farmer.) Mr. Thompson, will you and your servants be so good as to look to this man, and take care that he does not escape. (The Farmer and his Seroants surround Warren.) Em. Oh, speak! is he yet alive? is he not killed? Cler. (Going up to her.) No, dearest Emily, I escaped most happily; but had I been wounded ever so severely, the kind, the tender interest you show for my safety had been my instant cure. Em. Oh! why do I show this interest? cruel, cruel Clermont. Mr. H. Whew! this is going pretty far, I think, in the face of so many people. Mrs. Harley and Fabricio come down the lawn. Mrs. H. What am I to think of all this? Half the neighbourhood seems assembled here; and there are |