I don't shake the metaphysics out of him ere long. O ho! I've bolted him, however.—

Enter PENRUDDOCK from the Cottage.

Zooks! What a heathen philosopher it is!

Penrud. Now, Mr. Attorney, what have you to say, for thus disturbing my whole family? What have I done, or the poor cat, my peaceable companion, that thus the boisterous knuckles of the law should mar our meditations?

Weazel. Truly, sir, I was compelled to make some little noise; your castle is but small.

Penrud. It's big enough for my ambition.
Weazel. And passing solitary.

Penrud. I wish you had suffered it to be silent too. Weazel. In faith, sir, if I knew how to be heard without a sound, I would gratify your wish; but if your silence suffers by my news, I hope your happiness will not.

Penrud. Happiness! What's that? I am content, I enjoy tranquillity; Heaven be thanked, I have nothing to do with happiness.

Weazel. There you are beyond me, sir. If an humble fortune and this poor cottage give you content, perhaps great riches and a splendid mansion I would not add to it.

Penrud. Explain your meaning, friend: I don't understand you.

Weazel. In plain words, then, you are to know, that your rich relation, Sir George Penruddock, is deceased. Penrud. Dead!

Weazel. Defunct; gone to his ancestors; whipped away by the sudden stroke of an apoplexy; this moment here, Heaven knows where the next : Death will do it when he likes, and how he likes; I need not remind you, sir, who are so learned a philosopher, how frail the tenure of mortality.

Penrud. You need not, indeed if Sir George thought as seriously of death before it happened, it may have been well for him; but his thoughts, I fear, were otherwise employed.

Weazel. I much doubt if he ever thought at all; Sir George was a fine gentleman, and lived freely. Penrud. No wonder then he died suddenly-but how does this apply to me?

Weazel. No otherwise than as you are the heir of all he died possessed of: I have the will in safe keeping about me. [Takes out some papers.]

Penrud. Have patience, have patience; this is somewhat sudden; I am unprepared for such an event; 'twas never in my contemplation: I was in no habits with Sir George, never courted him, never

corre

sponded with him: the small annuity, 'tis true, on which I have subsisted, was charged on his estate, and regularly paid, but here he never came; man could not be more opposite to man; he worshipped Fortune, I despised her; I studied closely, he gamed incessantly

Weazel. And won abundantly-if money be your passion, you'll find plenty of it.

Penrud. Money! what should I do with money? Weazel. Money indeed !-why money is-in short, what is it not?

Penrud. Not health, methinks, not life-for he, that had it, died.

Weazel. But you, that have it, live-and is there nothing that can tempt you? Recollect-booksmoney will buy books; nay more, it will buy those who write them.

Penrud. It will so.

Weazel. "Twill purchase panegyrics, odes, and dedications

Penrud. I can't gainsay it.

Weazel. House, table, equipage, attendants

Penrud. I have all those

what else?

витие

Weazel. Ah, sir, you surely can't forget there are such things in this world as beauty, love, irresistible woman-[DAME DUNCKLEY crosses the stage.]

Penrud. I keep a woman; she visits me every day, makes my bed, sweeps my house, cooks my dinner, and is seventy years of age-yet I resist her.

Weazel. I could say something to that, but I am afraid it will offend you.

Penrud. Say on boldly; never fear me.

Weazel. Why truly, sir, I find you of a very different temper from what I expected: I should doubt if your philosophy has made you insensible; I am sure it has not made you proud.

Penrud. I am as proud in my nature as any man ought to be, but surely as humble as any man can be. Weazel. Suffer me then to ask you, if there is not a certain lady living, Arabella Woodville by name?

Penrud. Who told you this? how came you thus to strike upon a name, that twenty years of solitude have not effac'd?

Weazel. Because I would prepare you for a task, that with the fortune you inherit must devolve upon you. The interests of this lady, perhaps even her existence, are now in your hands. When I shall deliver the deeds bequeathed to you by your cousin, I shall arm you with the means of extinguishing the wretched Woodville at a blow.

Penrud. What is it you tell me? Have a care how you reverse my nature with a word. Woodville in my power! Woodville at my mercy! If there's a man on earth, that can inspire me with revenge, it is that treacherous, base, deceitful rival. I was in his power, for I loved him-he betrayed me; I was at his mercy, for I trusted him-he destroyed me.

Weazel. Now then you'll own, that money can give something, for it gives revenge.

Penrud. Come on; my mind is made up to this fortune; to the extremest atom I'll exact it all the

miser's passion seizes on my heart, and money, which I held as dirt, is now my deity.

[Exeunt into the cottage.

SCENE II.

Another part of the Forest.

WOODVILLE, followed by TRUEMAN.

Wood. Go, go, begone!-Why do you follow

me?

True. I pray you, sir, don't dismiss the chaise in this wild place let it convey you to the next town, and then pursue your journey as you please.

Wood. Don't talk to me, don't trouble me: my journey's at an end.

True. You have been up all night: your mind and body both require some rest.

Wood. What if they do? can you administer to agonies like mine? How dare you thus intrude? By what authority have you, my servant, made yourself a spy upon my actions?

True. By no authority, but that of my affection and good-will: you have been kind to me in your prosperity, ought I to desert you in adversity? Indeed, indeed, sir, I can't leave you here alone.

think

Wood. Foolish, officious fellow, I perceive you I have lost my senses: no, I possess them clearly: I know both where I am and what I have to do-had I designs against myself, you could not hinder them; but I have none; 'tis not my own life but yours that is in danger, unless you instantly depart. Look! here is your dismission-I am resolute to be obeyed. [Draws a Pistol. True. Take my life; fire when you please: I'm not afraid of dying.

Enter SYDENHAM.

Syden. Woodville, what ails you? are you mad? do you fight duels with your own servant ?

Wood. Ducks!—

Syden. You are right: I see he is not armed. What the devil and all his doings possesses you to point your pistol at a naked man? If you consider him as your equal, give him the fellow to it; if you would punish him as your servant, turn him

away.

Wood. But he will not be turn'd away.

True. Not whilst it was my duty to stay by you; now Mr. Sydenham is come, I will intrude no longer.

[Exit. Syden. Harry Woodville, are you in your senses, to act in this manner?

Wood. Are you not out of yours, to come thus far to ask me such a question?

Syden. Perhaps I am, but there's no reasoning about friendship; when I see a fellow, whom I love, throw away his happiness, game away his fortune, and then run from the ruin he has made, I have a foolish nature about me, that in spite of all his frenzy will run after him; and though he may break loose from all the world beside, damn me if he shall shake off me, though he had twenty pistols in his reach, and I not one in mine.

Wood. Your friendship, Mr. Sydenham, is not wanted at this moment, and give me leave to say it is unwelcome.

Syden. Very likely; I care little about the welcome that you give me, as I am not quite sure you are the man I was in search of: my friend was a gentleman, though an unwise one; he would hear reason, though he was unapt to follow it; above all things he was not that frantic desperado, as to turn his pistol either against his servant or himself.