Imatges de pÓgina

they will; and oftentimes they leave to reason and virtue nothing but my wishes and my sighs. Stock. Come, come, the man who can accuse corrects himself.

Bel. Ah! that is an office I am weary of; I wish a friend would take it up: I would to heaven you had leisure for the employ ! but did you drive a trade to the four corners of the world, you would not find the task so toilsome as to keep me free from faults.

Stock. Well, I am not discouraged; this. candour tells me, I should not have the fault of self-conceit to combat; that, at least, is not among the number.

Bel. No; if I knew of any man on earth who thought more humbly of me than I do of myself, I would take up his opiniou and forego

my own.

Stock. And was I to chuse a pupil, it should be one of your complexion; so, if you will come along with me, we will agree upon your admission, and enter upon a course of lectures directly.

Bel. With all my heart.



Lord Eustache and Frampton,.

Ed. East. WELL, my dear Frampton, have

you secured the letters?

Fram. Yes, my Lord for their rightful


Ld. Eust. As to the matter of property, Frampton, we will not dispute much about that. Necessity, you know, may sometimes. render a trespass excusable.

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Fram. I am not casuist sufficient to answer you upon that subject; but this I know, that you have already trespassed against the laws of hospitality and honour, in your conduct towards Sir William Evans and his daughter.--And as your friend and counsellor both, I would advise you to think seriously of repairing the injuries you have committed, and not increase your offence by a farther violation.

Ld. Eust. It is actually a pity you were not bred to the bar, Ned; but I have only a mo-ment to stay, and am all impatience to know if there be a letter from Langwood, and what he


Fram. I shall never be able to afford you the least information upon that subject, my Lord.

Ld. Eust. Surely, I do not understand you.. --You said, you had secured the letters--Have you not read them?

Fram. You have a right, and none but you, to ask me such a question. My weak compliance with your first proposal relative to these letters, warrants your thinking so meanly of me. But know, my Lord, that though my personal affection for you, joined to my unhappy cir-. cumstances, may have betrayed me to actions unworthy of myself, I never can forget, that there is a barrier fixed before the extreme of baseness, which honour will not let me pass.

Ld. Eust. You will give me leave to tell you,. Mr. Frampton, that where I lead, I think need not halt.


Fram. You will pardon me, my Lord; the consciousness of another man's errors, can never be a justification for our own; and poor indeedi must that wretch be, who cau be satisfied with

the negative merit of not being the worst man he knows.

Ld. Eust. If this discourse were uttered in a conventicle, it might have its effect; by setting the congregation to sleep.

Fram. It is rather meant to rouse than lull your Lordship.

Ld. Eust. No matter what it is meant for ; give me the letters, Mr. Frampton.

Fram. Yet excuse me. I could as soon think of arming a madman's hand against my own life, as suffer you to be guilty of a crime, that will for ever wound your honour.

Ld. Eust. I shall not come to you to heal the wound your medicines are too rough and coarse for me.

Fram, The soft poison of flattery might, perhaps, please you better.

Ld. Eust. Your conscience may, probably, have as much need of palliatives as mine, Mr. Frampton, as I am pretty well convinced, that your course of life has not been more regular than my own.

Fram. With true contrition, my Lord, I confess part of your sarcasm to be just. Pleasure was the object of my pursuit, and pleasure F obtained, at the expence both of health and fortune; but yet, my Lord, I broke not in upon the peace of others; the laws of hospitality I never violated; nor did I ever seek to injure, or seduce, the wife or daugter of my friend. Ld East. I care not what you did--give me the letters.

Fram. I have no right to keep, and therefore shall surrender them, though with the atmost reluctance; but, by our former friendship, I entreat you not to open them.

Ld. Eust. That you have forfeited:

Fram. Since it is not in my power to prevent your committing an error, which you ought for ever to repent of, I will not be a witness of it. There are the letters.

Ld. Eust. You may, perhaps, have cause to repent your present conduct, Mr. Frampton, as much as I do our past attachment.

Fram. Rather than hold your friendship upon such terms, I resign it for ever. Farewell, my lord.

Re-enter FRAMPTON.

Fram. Ill-treated, as I have been, my lord, I find it impossible to leave you surrounded by difficulties.

Ld. Eust. That sentiment should have operated sooner, Mr. Framptom: Recollection is seldom of use to our friends, though it may sometimes be serviceable to ourselves.

Fram. Take advantage of your own expres sion, my lord, and recollect yourself. Born and educated, as I have been, a gentleman, how have you injured both yourself and me, by admitting and uniting, in the same confidence, your rascally servant!

Ld. Eust. The exigency of my situation is a sufficient excuse to myself, and ought to have been so to the man who called himself my friend.

Fram. Have a care, my lord, of uttering the least doubt upon that subject; for could I think you once mean enough to suspect the sincerity of my attachment to you, it must vanish at that instant.

Ld. Eust. The proofs of your regard have been rather painful of late Mr. Frampton. Fram. When I see my friend upon the verge

of a precipice, is that a time for compliment? Shall I not rudely rush forward, and drag him from it! Just in that state you are at present, and I will strive to save you. Virtue may languish in a noble heart, and suffer her rival, vice, to usurp her power; but baseness must not enter, or she flies for ever. The man who has forfeited his own esteem, thinks all the world has the same consciousness, and therefore is, what he deserves to be, a wretch.

Ld. Eust. Oh, Frampton! you have lodged a dagger in my heart.

Fram. No, my dear Eustace, I have saved you from one, from your own reproaches, by preventing your being guilty of a meanness, which you could never have forgiven yourself. Ld. Eust. Can you forgive me, and be still. my friend?

Fram. As firmly as I have ever been, my lord.-- But let us, at present, hasten to get rid of the mean business we are engaged in, and forward the letters we have no right to detain: SCHOOL FOR RAKES.


Duke and Lord.

Duke. Now my co-mates, and brothers in exile,

Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods
More free from peril than the envious court?
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
The season's difference; as the icy phang,
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind;
Which, when it bites and blows upon my body,
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say,
This is no flattery; these are councellors,
That feelingly persuade me what I am.

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