ROSINA. My timid heart pants-still safe by your side, Bel. Unveil your whole heart to me, Rosina. The graces of your form, the native dignity of your mind which breaks through the lovely simplicity of your deportment, a thousand circumstances concur to convince me you were not born a villager. Ros. To you, sir, I can have no reserve. A pride, I hope an honest one, made me wish to sigh in secret over my misfortunes. Bel. [Eagerly.] They are at an end. Ros. Dorcas approaches, sir; she can best relate my melancholy story. Enter DORCAS. Dor. His honour here? how sorry I am I happened to be from home. Troth, I'm sadly tired. Ros. Why would you insist on going? indeed, sir, she will kill herself. Bel. Will you let me speak with you a moment alone, Dorcas? Dor. Sure will I, your honour. Rosina, take this basket. Ros. [Aside.] I'll put the rest of the thread in, and' run with it to the weaver's. [Exit. [Capt. BELVILLE at the top of the stage, speaking to a servant. 'Capt. B. Rosina has taken that bye-road: run instantly, and execute my orders; but be prudent, and watch the moment.' [He retires. Dor. Will your honour please to walk into our homely cottage? Bel. I thank you, Dorcas, but 'tis pleasanter here: sit down by me on the bench. [She courtesies and sits down. 'Dor. Dear soul! not a bit of pride.' Bel. Rosina has referred me to you, Dorcas, for an account of her birth, which I have long suspected to be above her present situation. Dor. To be sure, your honour, since the dear child gives me leave to speak, she's of as good a family as any in England. Her mother, sweet lady, was my bounti ful old master's daughter, 'Squire Welford of Lincolnshire. 'Bel. What happiness! but go on. 'Dor. He was a noble gentleman, but too heedless ' about money-matters.* His estate was seized for a 'mortgage of not half its value, just after young madam was married, and she ne'er got a penny of her portion. 'They say, if Rosina had a friend, she might get the 'estate again, by paying the mortgage.' Bel. And her father? Dor. Was a brave gentleman too, a colonel: a charming couple they were, and loved one another so, it would have done your heart good to see them. His honour went to the Eastern Indies, to better his fortune, and madam would go wi' him. The ship was lost, and they, It is in the original " and nobody's enemy but his own.' I have altered this, as it is a proverbial expression, which, in my mind, is of very pernicious tendency. The men of whom this is commonly said, are, I think, enemies to many besides themselves though perhaps with not much of positive hostile intention, if any. Dr. R. Hey in his Dissertation on the Pernicious Effects of Gaming, (p. 54, edit. 1784. p. 41, edit. 1812,) has treated this subject with his usual ability. Speaking of Idleness and Extravagance, he says: "To excuse, or so much as to palliate, those vices, under an "idea that they are hurtful to none but him who is guilty of them, " is an ill-judged Lenity. And it deserves the more to be noticed "here, because the same Lenity may perhaps by some be extended "to Gaming itself, as well as to these two vices which are in the "train of pernicious Effects.-The plea is false: a man cannot be "idle and extravagant, without injuring others as well as himself. "Not to mention singly the several mischiefs which such a one must "bring upon those with whom he has connexions, (as that would carry me too far from the immediate subject I am upon;) it may "be observed that habitual Idleness and Extravagance unfit a person entirely for the discharge of his duty to mankind. It is not enough for a man to have a few vague feelings of good-will to with all the little means they had, went to the bottom. Young Madam Rosina was their only child; they left her at school; but when this sad news came, the mistress did not care for keeping her! so the dear child has shared my poor morsel. Bel. 'Tis enough, Dorcas: you shall not repent your kindness to her. But her father's name? Dor. Melville; Colonel Melville.* Bel. I am too happy: he was the friend of my father's heart; a thousand times have I heard him lament his fate. [Aside.] Rosina's virtues shall not go unrewarded. Dor. Yes, I trusted all wou'd be right. Heaven never forsakes the good man's children.+ Bel. I have another question to ask you, Dorcas, and answer me sincerely; is her heart free? 'Dor. To be sure, she never would let any of our 'young men come a-near her, and yet→→ "wards his friends, and to have an easy sociable turn in conversa"tion there is required in the discharge of every duty some degree "of labour and attention. And it is not to be expected that he 66 whom his own immediate concerns cannot rouse to action or re"strain within bounds, should exert or restrain himself for the sake "of others: although certainly, to a well-disciplined mind, there " is nothing in the discharge of ordinary duties which may not be 66 amply repaid by the pleasure of Benevolence, or by the conscious❝ness of doing what is right." There seems to be a dramatic illustration of these sentiments. Murphy wrote a Comedy which he called No One's Enemy but his own, which was acted at Covent Garden in 1764. If I have ever read this piece, I have no recollection of either the fable or the characters; but it is thus spoken of in the Biogr. Dram. (edit. 1812, Vol. III. p. 87,)" the character of Careless, whom the author "intends for the person who is No One's Enemy but his own, being "that of a worthless wretch, without honour or probity, the piece was totally disliked by the public." * The 8vo. edition has Martin. + See Psalm xxXVII, 25. In The Vicar of Wakefield (Vol. I. chap. III.) when the Vicar takes leave of his Son, he gives him a Bible, and says, "it will be your comfort on the way; these two "lines in it are worth a million. I have been young, and now "am old: and yet saw I never the righteous forsaken, nor bis "seed begging their bread.' Psalm XXXVII, 25. Let this be your consolation as you travel on." Bel. Speak: I am on the rack. Dor. I'm afeard-she mopes and she pines-but your honour would be angry-I'm afeard the captain Bel. [Aside.] Then my foreboding heart was right! ''tis well, Dorcas; I see my brother yonder; leave us. 'Dor. I'll go seek for the dear child. [She goes out. Enter Captain BELVILLE. Capt. B. I wish it was over; I'm not quite easy. 'Bel. I thought you intended to shoot to-day, 'brother? Capt. B. No; I changed my mind. 'Bel. You fancied it pleasanter chatting with Rosina? Capt. B. With Rosina? 'Bel. O, don't affect ignorance, I saw you come out ' of her cottage. Capt. B. True, yes; I had forgot. Fatigu'd with the heat, I entered the house, and finding nobody 'there, threw myself in the arm-chair, and fell asleep : 'that was all, I assure you. Bel. Not quite for whom was the purse intended? come, brother, you love her. Capt. B. Just as I love all pretty women : Bel. I see plainly the source of all your errors, 'brother: an early acquaintance with the worst part of the sex, has given you an unfavourable idea of the ❝ best. But time will correct that mistake; your heart is noble, and therefore cannot but be charmed with 'virtue and I must make allowance, if it appear to you 'the more charming when you find it in a fair lodging, as I may say. Be sincere with me, brother: do you think Rosina loves you? Capt. B. She has a few palpitations," I believe; but 'the little fool does not know what ails her. 'Bel. 'Tis enough; since she loves you, you shall marry her. Capt. B. Marry her! do I hear right? Bel. Why do you smile? she is amiable, and merits to be treated with respect. Capt B. Respect!-respect!-a little gleaner!-no power of face can stand this. Bel. Hear me, sir. Capt. B. But pray, Charles, since she is so very re'spectable, why not marry her yourself? Bel. I wish her partiality for you did not prevent my 'taking your advice. To obviate every objection, she is your equal; the daughter of Colonel Melville, and 'entitled to a share of her grandfather's estate. In the 6 mean time obtain her consent, and a third of my fortune is yours. [Going. Capt. B. This alters the case extremely, brother: Rosina in herself-but let us find her. 'Bel. Whither are you going, brother? 'Capt. B. Only to-what shall I say? fellows meet her—" 'if my Enter DORCAS and' RUSTIC. I am ruin'd Rus. Help, help, sir! Rosina's lost? she is carried away Bel. Rosina? Capt. B. [Confusedly.] Don't be alarmed-let me go-' Rus. I heard her cries, and ran to the place; but she was gone. 6 Capt. B. I fly to save her.' Bel. With me, sir-I will not lose sight of you.' Rustic, hasten instantly with our reapers. 'you will be our guide.' Dorcas, [Exit. SCENE II. A Meadow by the River-side.* Enter BELVILLE, Capt. BELVILLE and DORCAS; on the other side, RUSTIC, and the first and second IRISHMAN. Rus. Don't be frighted, sir; the Irishmen have rescued her, she is just here. As this piece is now acted, I believe that the Scene is not changed. |