University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

A street in Penryn.
Enter Randal.
Rand.
Poor! poor! and friendless! whither shall I wander,
And to what point direct my views and hopes?—
A menial servant!—No—What shall I live,
Here in this land of freedom, live distinguished,
And marked the willing slave of some proud subject,
And swell his useless train for broken fragments;
The cold remains of his superfluous board?—
I wou'd aspire to something more and better—
Turn thy eyes then to the prolifick ocean,
Whose spacious bosom opens to thy view:
There deathless honour, and unenvied wealth
Have often crowned the brave adventurer's toils.
This is the native uncontested right,
The fair inheritance of ev'ry Briton
That dares put in his claim—My choice is made:
A long farewel to Cornwall, and to England;
If I return—But stay, what stranger's this,
Who, as he views me, seems to mend his pace?

Enter young Wilmot.
Y. Wilm.
Randal!—The dear companion of my Youth!—
Sure lavish fortune means to give me all
I could desire, or ask for this blest day,
And leave me nothing to expect hereafter.

Rand.
Your pardon, sir! I know but one on earth
Cou'd properly salute me by the title
You're pleased to give me, and I would not think,
That you are he—That you are Wilmot.—

Y. Wilm.
Why?

Rand.
Because I cou'd not bear the disappointment
Shou'd I be deceived.

Y. Wilm.
I am pleased to hear it:
Thy friendly fears better express thy thoughts
Than words could do.

Rand.
O! Wilmot! O! my master!
Are you returned?

Y. Wilm.
I have not yet embraced
My parents—I shall see you at my father's.

Rand.
No, I'm discharged from thence—O sir! such ruin—

Y. W.
I've heard it all, and hasten to relieve 'em:
Sure heaven hath blessed me to that very end:
I've wealth enough; nor shalt thou want a part.

Rand.
I have a part already—I am blest
In your success, and share in all your joys.

Y. Wilm.
I doubt it not—But tell me, dost thou think,
My parents not suspecting my return,
That I may visit them, and not be known?

Rand.
'Tis hard for me to judge. You are already
Grown so familiar to me, that I wonder
I knew you not at first: Yet it may be;
For you're much alter'd, and they think you dead.

Y. Wilm.
This is certain; Charlot beheld me long,
And heard my loud reproaches, and complaints
Without rememb'ring she had ever seen me.
My mind at ease grows wanton: I wou'd fain
Refine on happiness. Why may I not
Indulge my curiosity and try
If it be possible by seeing first
My parents as a stranger, to improve
Their pleasure by surprize?

Rand.
It may indeed
Inhance your own, to see from what despair
Your timely coming, and unhoped success
Have given you power to raise them.

Y. Wilm.
I remember,
E'er since we learned together you excelled
In writing fairly, and could imitate
Whatever hand you saw with great exactness.
Of this I'm not so absolute a master.
I therefore beg you'll write, in Charlot's name
And character, a letter to my father;
And recommend me, as a friend of hers,
To his acquaintance.

Rand.
Sir, if you desire it—
And yet—

Y. Wilm.
Nay, no objections—'Twill save time,
Most precious with me now. For the deception,
If doing what my Charlot will approve,
'Cause done for me and with a good intent,
Deserves the name, I'll answer it my self.
If this succeeds, I purpose to defer
Discov'ring who I am 'till Charlot comes,
And thou, and all who love me. Ev'ry friend
Who witnesses my happiness to night,
Will, by partaking, multiply my joys.

Ran.
You grow luxurious in your mental pleasures:
Cou'd I deny you aught, I would not write
This letter. To say true, I ever thought
Your boundless curiosity a weakness.

Y. Wilm.
What canst thou blame in this?

Rand.
Your pardon, Sir!
I only speak in general: I'm ready
T'obey your orders.

Y. Wilm.

[Exeunt.