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 distinguish'd,
And mark'd the willing slave of some proud subject!—
To 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 prolific ocean,
Whose spacious bosom opens to thy view:
There deathless honour, and unenvied wealth,
Have often crown'd 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 pleas'd 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
—If I shou'd be deceived.

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

Rand.
O! Wilmot! O! my master!
Are you return'd?

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

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

Y. Wilm.
I've heard it all, and hasten to relieve 'em:
Sure heaven hath bless'd 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 remembr'ing 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 surprise?

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

Y. Wilm.
I remember,
E'er since we learn'd together, you excelled
In writing fairly, and could imitate
Whatever hand you saw with great exactness.
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 myself.
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.

Rand.
You grow luxurious in imagination.
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!
Perhaps I spoke too freely;
I'm ready t'obey your orders.

Y. Wilm.
I am much thy debtor,
But I shall find a time to quit thy kindness.
O Randal! but imagine to thyself
The floods of transport, the sincere delight
That all my friends will feel, when I disclose
To my astonish'd parents my return,
And then confess, that I have well contriv'd
By giving others joy t'exalt my own.