The Mournful Nuptials, or Love the Cure of all Woes | ||
SCENE I.
Briar's House.Briar and Charlotte.
Briar.
Yes, Charlotte, yes, my child, to make you happy,
I'll curb my rage, I'll bridle up my hate:
The bitter indignation that I bear
To Freeman is not level'd at his son:
I will love him, my girl, for loving you.
Charlotte.
O! may your days be long and pros'prous all!
He surely is the sweetest, gentlest, youth,
That ever trod the plains, or woo'd a maid!
Briar.
Daughter, I must confess I did not think 'twas in the
pow'r of words to throw my temper into such a mold
as the young man has fram'd it to:
And made me wish the son of Freeman well.
Charlotte.
What do my eyes behold? my Freeman's mother!
Come, I suppose, to bless me with her voice.
I shall grow mad with joy.
Briar.
Ah! does the proud dame once condescend to enter
Briar's roof!
The Mournful Nuptials, or Love the Cure of all Woes | ||