THE A MELO-DRABI ATIC ROMANCE, THREE ACTS, (FOUNDED ON THE POPULAR NOVEL OF THAT NAME,) PERFORMED, FOR THE FIRST TIME, AT THE l^ogal eTofiurg Eijmxt, On MONDAY, the Uth of JULY, 1823. PRINTED FOR JOHN LOWNDES, 36, BOW STREET, COVENT GARDEN. P?tICE TWO SHILLINGS. 4 T© FRANCIS HUNTLEY, ESQ. TO WHOSE ATTENTION AND TALENT THE I»IIA«IA 09 ' MELMOTH, THE WANDERER, IS so STEEPLY INDEBTED FOR ITS PRODUCTION AND 9ie»ES«, THE FOLLOTTING PAOES ARE SINCERELY 1N8GRIBKD, BY HIS OBLICKp, B. WEST. MARYLEBONK, Jl'I-Y 1823. DK AM AXIS PERSONiE. Mr. Bengough. Mr. Huntley. Miss Young. Mr. Howell. .. Mr. Gale. Mr. Bradley. Mr. Fisher. Mr. Sloman. f Mr. Cooper. { Mr. AsBURY. Mr. BOULANGER. Monks, Familiars, Inquisitors, Officers, 8fc. 8f€, INA, Wife of Walbnrg..,. Immalee, their Daughter Slutto, attached to Popo Nuns, Attendants, ^c. ^e. Mrs. Stanley. Mrs. Young. Miss. Gaskill. SCENE -Spain. MELMOTH, THE WANDERER! ACT I. SCENE l.~Room in a Spanish Inn. £wfer RozoMBiRo andVovo. Rqz. Out! out! you graceless varlet, you! the house has not been open many weeks, and you must be ogling the maids, instead of minding your work, you lazy loon ! Fopo, Vm sure, master, I work the flesh ofF my very bones; look at my fingers else.— Oh! my Slutto! its all for you! Oh! Oh! Roz, Come, Come! have done with your snivel- ling, and get to your work! Before this Slutto came, you could work, and do things as they ought to be; now, devils in me if I can get a stroke done any how! but, she shall troop. I wont have my work stand still for love, and be damn d to it! Fopo, And what work are you talking of? Roz, The customers. Fopo, Ho, ho, he, he, he! the customers ! Roz. What are you grinning at, you ragamuffin? Fopo. Why sir! he, he, hum! you said the customers. - iZo-s. Well sir! and what then? Fopo. Why, Sir, then to my simple knowledge there has'nt been a dozen since you opened house ; and although you have whited your house from top B to bottom, so as to put people s eyes out with look- ing, IVe been actually obliged to get tipsy every tiight, if it was only for the sake of setting a good example to our neighbours. Roz, Why — ah ! that is — it is a lamentable fact that we really have not enough to do. Popo. Oh— ho! Master, don't say so! If you have not got enough* to do, wehave— that is, me — I have! Why, hav'nt I got to range out your windows every day — scour all your floors? Didn't I whiten the whole front of your house ? And now^ to fill up my time, hav'nt I got to do theback — nothing ?— Why, I'm gardener— waiter— fetcher and carrier all day and night too. /, master pf mine, have enough to do, whatever you have ; so don't say we are idle. Ro%. Why, you varlet— I'll—I'll kick ye out of my doors! How dare you open your mouth to talk to your roaster— eb, you villain ? I'll teach ye ! Popo. Now, my good old master! — It's of no use making a fuss— I know I am as serviceable a young ckap as any in all Spain ; and so, if you won t let me marry my little Slutto, why, a fig for you I say !— pay me my wages, and well trudge together ! Roz. Whj, my good fellow — {Knocking) — There, don't you hear there's somebody knocking; and, by the loudness, somebody of consequence; — there, go your ways, and mind your work ! — the house will thrive some day, and then I may rise your viBi^QS— {Aside) I must not lose him! He does more work for a little money than two would do for double \— (Knocking,)— coming !— There, go yourwa^^s! \Exit Landlord, Enter &LVTTO. Popo. Ah! my little Slutto! IVe been having a quarrel with master about' you. rSbjiito, About me I laws> have ye? Pffpo, Yes, have I !— and he says hell turn mt ~ of doors, and marry you himself. THE WANDERER. ^ o Slutto. He marry me!— AVhy, the nasty filthy old fellow—marry him!— and do you think if you was turned out that I would stay in !— No ! not I, indeed ! So we will go together ! Popo, Why, that's just what I've been saying to myself!— says I, if she's turned~;^thatis,if Fm turn d out— should I stay be— no, if she's turned out— will she— that is, would I -Why, hang him, he's put me in such a way, I hardly know what I say. But, I'll tell you what— if you like, 111 go to the Monastery, and ask Father Anselmo to ma^ke us one. I've got a little money, and we will set up- an inn, and the deviVs in it if we-don't get on as ^ell as master, eh !— Wlmt says my Slutto? Will you be Signora Slutto Popo, and make your fortune ? " Slutto, Oh, yes— I don't object. And now you bring it up— I don't mind telling ye, that I've often wanted to pop the question myself, but could neyer muster enough courage. Popo, Oh, Slutto ! you're an angel— and I'm your fellow— and so we shall do. Now, come along— iet old surly pipe — and be hanged. I don't think we're in the wrong— to get up in the world. — (Rozombiro c^//^— Popo ! Popo!")— Coming r There, I must be off. (''Popo !") Coming I Stay here, and I'll be back in a jeffy 1 \Ejit Popo. Slutto. Well, I do love him 1 And to fill «p my time — I'll sing a song about love — SongSwTTp, Tell me, have you seen a to^r, Call'd Love — a little boy, Armed with arrows, wanton, blind. Cruel now, and then as kind, If he be among you, say, He is Venus' runaway ; And ne'er be sure, Fpr, l6 ! his lure, l.a rose d'amour. 4 MELMOTH, Wings he hath, which though yc clip. He will leap from lip to lip ; If, by chance, his arrows miss. He will shoot ye in a kiss. If he be among you, say, • "; He is Venus' runaway J And ne'er be sure, For, lo ! his lure. La rose d'amour. Enter Rozombiro, followed by Melmoth. Roz, Noi Signor— they Ve not arrived yet. Jl/e/. Very well! Rqz, Would you please to take anything, Signor? this is the New Inn, on the Old Road;— stands well— eh ! doesn't it, Signor ? MeL Ay— ay— talkative booby ! Roz, Beg your Honour's pardon! but — but as my house is — MeL Landlord— I wish to be private 1 leave the room ! If I should need you, I will call. Roz. Oh, my good Signor— I'm gone! But— as my house — Mel. Begone instantly ! bring me intelligence the instant they arrive I away ! [^Exit Rozombiro, vexed. Mel. (solus.) The awful hour draws on — no time must be lost ! Immalee once mine — how to gain her — 'tis plain she loves me! but, then the terms — her first-born immolated ! how to act— how to resolve— I know not I and yet— (muses.)— It must be so! FU put it to him ! should he refuse me — the infernal aid I have so dearly purchased — must assist me! Despair, misery, and death, must glare before him ! One way alone remairis^ — ages of torment await me — three days remain. Horror ! but three \— {Rozombiro enters.) How now ? Roz. They've just arrived at my new house — , they're admiring my incomparable inn — I must go ' and help them with their cloaks. H^e, Popo! Jaccho! Sktto! \Exit THE WANDEREB. 5 MeL Ha ! now to commence ! — This letter laid on the table — now to Guzman's ! — the Will ! (searches his bosom.) — 'Tis here ! — Immalee, be kind! consent! -^they come ! I must not yet be seen 1 . Roz, (tvit/iOKL) This wdij, Signor! — This way! JleL They are here! the casement! it must be *o ! [Opens it, and jumps out. £nteJ^WALBVRG, Is A, liVlMALEE, LoRENZO, Fkederico, and folloived by Rozombiro. Roz. This way ! this way !— eh 1 why, where the diabolo has the Signor flown to ? — I left him here this in^stant ; and — oh ! here is a note — left by him, I dare say — ''To Waiburg J' —l^ ihdit your name, Signor? Wal. It h Takes letter, opens it, and reads) — ■ "Thy uncle is already deadl Haste to the Castello V* Ina. Dead ! then we have arrived too late ! Wal. It vexes me sore ! I had borne his hate so long, that could I on his death-bed have received his proffered love, 'twould have been a balm to all my sorrow. Lor. Tut ! let not that vex thee thy fortunes will prosper, 1 warrant. — The summons said, haste to me — heir of my wealth, did it not ? Wal. It did, good youth. — Immalee — you ap- pear dejected! — Come — come — drive this Rinaldo from thy mind! — Here is Lorenzo — true to thee, although thou hast slighted him. Come hither to me ! let me join your hands — and, oh, may heaven join your hearts ! — Immalee ! Imma. ( abstractedly.) Father! Wal. Nay, Immalee — banish this folly — I was speaking of Lorenzo. Imma. Oh, father! press it no farther ? you know I respect Lorenzo — but Rinaldo 1 — ah ! he alpne retains my— love ! Loren. Rinaldo ! but he is dead ! Imma. Ha! it may be! it maybe! but IVe a, somewhat here [her heart) assures me he is not ! Lorefi. Nay, Immalee 1 you talk wildly I— these feet followed him to the grave— these eyes beheld earth close on him for ever. ^ . hnma. (affected.) Lorenzo! dear Lorenzo! if in- deed you love me, do not— oh, do not— touch so harshly the string of all ray woes !— Forbear ! forbear ! WaL [who has been talking apart with Ina.) Tut ! tut, wife !— What a plague makes ye so melancholy? how could we have made a proper appearance ? I tell you 'twas all for the best ! Ina. Best !— ha, Walburg ! if he should have altered his opinion before his death, and nothing more likely — our whole resources destroyed— our money exhausted — ruin and misery will be the tionsequence ! Wal, Pshaw ! why, what makes you so fond of damping our joy ?— Look on our boy here— how could we have provided for him ?— and suppose he should have altered his will — here s Lorenzo and I — two healthy men. Wife! wife! Want will never show his face where we appear ! We can work— can't we? _ Ina. Work ! Who will employ you, in this land of bigotry ?— How can you live in the very heart of the Inquisition ? WaL Come! come! enough of this!— By this time our refreshment is ready— I must partake hastily— then fly to Guzman's'—and know whether we are heirs to happiness, or kin to woe. Gome, wife! Hold up your head! you need not blush I— I forgive you— you shall be a great personage, think so or not. lE:vcunt. SCENE ll.~Room in Guzman's Palace— In the centre a Bureau, surmounted with a handsome Cns^. Melmoth enters hastily — he looks round with cau- Mon— takes Parchment from his bosom. [Music. Mel. No one observes This writing, an exact imitation— in aught save the purport— must be sub- THE WANDERER. '7 stituted for the one in yonder case. Not an instant must be lost. The key! — 'tis here. {Opens the case-stakes out paper s-^places others in their stead- looks round with agitation— Music) 'Tis mine ! — Now, Immalee, thy breath alone will save thy father, mbther, all that thou dost love, respect, pr reverence,—— Hist ! — that noise ! — they conae 1 —This closet must conceal me. {He enters,} [Several friends of the deceased enter^Monks and [ Officers of the Inquisition— Inhabitants of the City—Servants of Guzman enter and range themselves, Melmoth comes forward, disguised as a Monk, Walburg, with Lawyers, enter, Anselmo stands forward — while the Character i enter, — Music.'] Ansel, Hear 1 Friends of the deceased Guzman ! with him, till life and troubles closed; he opened his mind to me ; let not my friends be surprised,— said he ; — I have ever loved them. — These were his dying words — Walburg, I auger well for you ;— He often spoke of you, and on his death-bed he blessed you. Wal, Thanks, holy Father, for your information ; we had been long at variance, and it joys me much to hear it — Please you, and this good company, we will proceed ; my family await the result of this hour with impatience. Ansel, Proceed to your duty ! — (To the Lawyers.) [The Case is opened; — the Lawyers open the Will ; they start in amazement.'] Lawyers. Good Heavens ! most wonderful I Wal. (observing them.) These bigots ! — my cup of happiness astounds them! their indignation will not allow them to articulate. Give me the Will !— -I'll read it 1^ — nay, doubt me not, all shall hear me — ■ (takes it, looks at it an instant — starts.) Gods — -wh^it do I see 1^ — All, all to the Church,"— signed— Guz- man^ — sealed too — his arms !— ha ! — support me [— 8 MELHOTH, (the Jtfonh approach him) off !— a light breaks in upon me ; — the Monks, ha, ha, tis' a vile forgery, Ansel mo I— you say you was with him ! saw him die ! (seizes him) 'twas you !-^Gonfess I — confess that Will ! — how came it there ? — my brain ! I shall go mad ! — (supplicates) Anselmo I- — Think on my wife, my children, my — ha ! Misery ! Beggary I — ha, ha, ha^ (swoons) J^IeL (aside,) It works as I would wish (aloud) raise him, he will recover. AnseL ( supporting him,) Rouse thee ! rouse thee, Walburg ! all will be well, the Church will provide for thee. Monks and Inquisitors, Never! AnseL Why ! — your reason ? Liguis, He is an Heretic ! Monks, Away with him ! Wal. recovering,) Ha ! heard ye that ? — Where is the Will? Lawyer, 'Tis here. Wah Keep it then — I'll not be juggled thus : — - it shall be judged. Go, call the Officers together. Monks, let your superiors attend — it shall be tried. Away, ye grovelling things ! — But now ye thought me rich and mighty ; ye would have licked the dust from off my feet. Now, that the tide has changed, beggary and infamy be my portion. Get hence, I say I or, by offended heaven, I'll strew such fell destruction o'er ye, that none shall live to tell his fellow out. Away! I say. (All ejccept Melmoth ejceunt,) How now 1 why dost linger ? I know thee wot. Mel, ( taking off his cloak.) Not know me, Wal- burg ? — thy friend Rinaldo ! (Walburg starts,) — Why do ye wonder ? — How fares my Immalee ? Wal, Thy Immalee ! — -Avaunt ! there is no lustre in thy orbless eyes. Away ! 1 know thee now ; and here, before the face of heaven, I swear, by all my hopes of happiness to come, she — THE WANDERER. 9 MeL Walburg! — Pause ere you pronounce — List to me Know me for thy master ; aye, and ril show it too. Refuse me the hand of thy fair daughter, and biting, nameless, horrid misery o'er- takes ye. Think, Walburg, on Melmoth, when rustling in straw— pray ing to'stone walls — your wife, your children, stretched around ye in the agonies of death— hated by all — shunned, forsaken — then, then, will you think of Melmoth, and curse the hour you was born. Be wise — be wise. -Consent — and happiness, life, and pleasure are thine. WaL Horror freezes me— Cold sweats bedew my^; palsied limbs— but strength permits-^ 1 repeat,> will die repeating it, despite thy boasted power~: she never shall be thine. Listen to me, Melmoth- (for such I find thou art) : I once loved thee, even ' as Inwnalee : — I should have joyed to call ye Son. Alas! I knew thee not. The night arrived that;, should have seen your marriage — A man whom you had offended struck ye to the heart ; and, stretched in the embrace of death, the bride beheld the stricken bridegroom with deepest woe— me and mine did honours to your corpse, and buried you in a grave formed by nature— in a rude, but honoured rock. Judge, then, my disgust and horror, when I see thee stand before me in all the horrid reality of life, demanding my innocent child as the bride— the bride of the grave. I sicken with disgust.— By heaven, I would not call thee son, though 'twas topurchase life !^ — ( Rushes out,) Mel. Indeed! dost think so ? I'll try thee farther ; aad if thou dost not pray of me to take thy daugh- ter — I know not the workings of the human heart— ^ Now to seek her, to open my heart to her, inform lier of my dangers, my engagements. I know her feeling nature, I must play deeply and subtiHy here— no time, no opportunity must be lost^ She must, she shall be mine. [Emti It) MELMOTH, SCENE III.— .4 Room m Walburg s House. Enter 1mm a lee. Imma. 'Tis all in vain, their anxiety afflicts me, but my own wretchedness drives me mad — Oh Lorenzo ! How I pity thee, to gain my love, what hast thou not sacrificed — every thing has been risked for our good; but no! 1 cannot love him — Love! alas, that feeling is dead within me ; Rinaldo's grave contains my heart, my love, and never can another share his place in my remembrance, my affections — Wliat strange feeling comes over — Oh ! thus have I felt in happier days, when all things were bright about me^ — his footsteps, or his voice would cause iliy heart to throb — my pulse beat high — but now alas! — ha! ( — Melmoth open the ivindow, and looks mi) What do I see! My eyes swim — Rinaldo, Rinaldo — or is't a spirit! Speak! Speak! — Mel. Immalee ! Imma, 'Tis he! 'Tis he! {Screams and falls senseless, Melmouth Enters and raises) MeL Immalee rouse thee. — • Imma, (rec(?t;em^) Ha ! The blest vision has fled! And, no! Still 'tis here ! Rinaldo, speak what would^st thou ? speak, honoured shade. — Mel. Immalee, I live. Imma. Am I then permitted once more to see thee, once more to hold thee in these trembling arras— oh! Inconceivable joy. MeL Oh! Immalee — sweeter than the air we lireathe. Imma. They told me you was dead! But I belieTed it not. McL Immalee, th^y told you true, a seeming deaths was upon me — the world seemed lost to me for ever — -but — nay, lean on me, Immalee, a few sl^^ort fleeting hours are allotted me — To the point !— • My name is not Rinaldo, but Melmoth ! Imma, {shudders) Melmoth! THE WANDERER. 11 Md, kje, Melmoth! Melmoth the Wanderer! Listen — I have mad^ a compact — signed with blood — witnessed by fiends — registered in hell, to wed a maid with her own consent, and deliver up her first born to — • Imma, Hold! Oh, hold! And do you wish to sacrifice your Immalee! oh, Melmoth! I have ever loved thee — I knew thee not. 31eL Pshaw — you know me now ! say — wiU y©u be mine ? Imma. The terms are — MeL Immalee, do you love me? — Imma. Love thee — thou knowest I do! MeL Prove it! Consent! Imma, Horror and Love are combating withiu this bosom, one would make me to flee from thee for ever, the other make me thine — but, my mind is heated now — I cannot resolve — to-morrow I v/ill tell — I must retire. Mel. To-morrow be it then — Immalee, farewell! {E.vit Immalee — Melmoth gazes after her) To- morrow ! Then,- Immalee, thou art mine ! [E.vit. SCENE it.— View of the Hall of Justice— at the back, a large entrance, steps leading to it ; on one side the Fe-^ace of Guzman — on the other the Monastry-^large handsome gates leading to it — - Stage dark. Enter Popo. Popo. Plague on it — how dark its gotten; the Monks have been so busy all day, that I have not been able to see father Anselmo. . I must see him now, or my Slutto v/ill tear my eyes out ! — -The dear little cherub ! I hope I shant affront their holinesses, or perhaps they may give me a free admission to their friend the — hey \ what a bustle there seems — ■ I tremble every joint— poh I faint heart never gained , fair lady ; Now for it ! Cburage my Boy ! (Eulls. bell,. . 12 M£LMOTH, it r'wg^ loud.) Oh, Lord! what a jirk I'v^ given ( the gate opens, and a Mute appears.) How do you do. Sir I- — (The Mute motions him to be quiet ) what does he mean? (burlesques the motions of Mute) I beg your pardon, sir, but me and Slutto will be very much obliged to you, if— if — (The Mute stamps with his foot, and exhibits a scroll, on which is inscribed'* Silence or Death T) ^'Silence or Death !" Oh, Tm as quiet as a mouse^ — only if you could just tell father Anselmo — (Mute points off, and motions for him to begone.) Oh! Certainly, Sir! I'm gone— Oh, Slutto ! Slutto !— When shall we be married ? [Esit. ' [The Mute looks after him — opens gate — beckons — > two others enter — he points, and they exit after Popo — the first to gate. [Music. (chorus OF MONKS AND PROCESSION.) Hail, Justice ! Heaven descended hail ! To thee we swell the hymn of praise ! Oh ! May thy influence e*er prevail ! Still may'st thou cheer Life's gloomy ways ! Justice ! Universal good, ^ Queller of the deadly feud, t\ } By thee, the hapless wretch redress'd, Finds hope revive within his breast. The King, the Subject, Lord, and Hind, All thy untold blessings find. [During the Chorus several Inquisitors enter the Hall. — Confused noises are heard at con- clusion of Chorus. Walburg rushes on. Wal. Way — Way ! Waste not thy breath with empty sounds of that which is far, far above thy grasp. Way — Way. THE WANDERER. 13 He rushes up the steps, and k about tf^ enter, two Mutes appear infrmt of door, which suddenly opens — Melmoth is seen within surrounded by the Officers of the Inquisition. — They ejpUbit a scroU~^on which appears— "All to the Church !" Walburg utters a cry of anguish — falls senseless on the steps, —Monks, ^c, group around him, END OF ACT THE THIRST. ACT IL SCENE I.— ^ Room in Walburg s House.— Lorenzo, Frederico, Ina, discovered— the child plays at the back. — Ina and Lorenzo supposed to to have been in anxious Coversation. Loren. Nay, nay, Ina, is this well? remember your , health is injured by this violent emotion; besides, I cannot see the reason. Ina. What, Lorenzo! After watching for hini in vain during last night — the day on the last decline, and still absent!— Oh, Lorenzo! Did you but feel- but you are not a parent! Do not — do not upbraid me ! Walburg has been rash— very rash ! Why spend all our earnings? but I will not despair! I will try to hope! Loren. Nay, this is too bad! I could account for a little anxiety, but now, you really exceed all bounds,— Ha! Allow yourself to think what you will be— not what you may!— Walburg and yourself living in ease and happiness— Immalee enjoying that place in society, she was formed to move in— 14 MEL-MORTH, Myself happy by serving you — -and this little man, if it fails to make you happy, at least it will make him so — Won't it, Frederico ? Fred. Why, I do not know, Lorenzo. I know, that I have been very happy, when you have carried me from town to town, and shewn me the wonders of the great world ; but, when you bade me look at our old house for the last time, the tears came to my eyes ; and when my play-fellows surrounded me, to bid me good bye, my heart v/as so full I could not speak to them ; but I pressed their hands so hard» they must have known what I meant. jLorm. But you must forget them now. Fred, What, Lorenzo, forget them because I have grown rich ! No, Lorenzo ! 1 am very youtig, but I remember what my father has told me, that the riches of the great was designed for the relief of the poor, and that the richest people were generally the most wicked. Now, Lorenzo, if I thought it would have that eiFect upon you, or us, or my father and mother, I would rather we were back again in our old peace- fiil cottage^ press our hard pallets, and pluck our daily food from the brook that ripples round the cottage. What think ye, mother? ah! you sigh! and now a tear drops from your eye upon my hand ; why do you weep, mother ? speak ! speak to your poor Frederico ! Ina. Good boy, may you ever think thus ! may thy youthful innocence never be ripened into manhood and hypocrisy, but with thy years may'st thou retain thy virtue and so be happy ; joyous here and here- after. Sing Frederico ! sing — Fred, I will, dear mother, the air is a lively one, and may charm you from your melancholy — • . Song, — Frederico. The Village Bell \ The Village Bell ! 11 uw riehly sweet iu chime doth svretl. J>lnc)^ dlny, dmt/y ^'t\ THL WANDERER. * ^ 15 To those whose hearts From Guilt are free ; To those who ne'er Knew misery. The Village Bell will e'er impart Sweet pleasure to the guiltless heart. Ding, ding, dingy Sfc. The Village Bell ! The Village Bell ! How soothing sweet, its chime doth swell. Ding, ding, ding, To those whose woes Rack e'en in sleep, Who, when they wake But wake to weep. Sweet Village Bell thou can'st impart. Balm even to the breaking heart. Ding, ding, ding, %e, ^ Lor en. Bravo! Aye, Ina, hug him to your breast, you may well be proud of him 1 he does credit to those who were his tutors, and who one day will re- ceive the reward of their labors. What I — tell me that such talent was doomed to bloom and blow, and spread its fragrance in a cottage! No, boy ! a palace awaits thee! you shall be honored, worshipped, and — Ina. Lorenzo forbear! nor let your visionary ^ fancies cheat you of your wits — forbear. Loren. Visipnary, or not — I have determined to look at the bright side of the picture, and — (a knock) Ha! he comes — now then we shall be convinced. [in^ catches at a chair for support — Lorenzo opens the door — Walburg rushes in — in a state of desperation — throws himself on his knees, covers his face with his hands — his whole person agitated and convulsed. Loren. Good Heavens ! what means this phrenzy ? Ina. My Walburg, how is it ? Wal. Not a ducat ! not a ducat ! ( relapses.) Ina. Uou^e thee, Walburg !— nay— -tis thy Ina calls ! 16 MELMOTH, WaL Ina !— Where is she Ha ! art thou there ? AwdLj — away ! — When thou knowest it, thou wilt curse me. Tna. Nay, Walburg — not so. — Jna will never break the bruised reed — will n^ver wound the heart that loves her. WaL Then thou art mine— Bride of despair, thou art mine ! Fred. Father, Lorenzo says I shall have a horse, and live in a great house. — Shall I, father? Wal, (spurnijig him,) Thou shalt be a very dog — a beggar in the street shall be a prince to thee \ — ■ Thou shalt be loathed — scorned — cursed — for your father s sake ^ and, oh, heavens 1— Lorenzo 1 Did Lorenzo tell thee— Oh! may my withering curse fall on him and all his kin ; and — ■ Ina, Husband, for the love of heaven withhold this frantic speech !— Lorenzo loves us all, dearly loves us 1 WaL Lorenzo, passion hurried me- — —Your hand. Oh, good youth, did you know but half the misery now rankling, tearing within my bosom, you would forgive — pity me. Loren, Walburg, this excess of grief amazes me ! Recover yourself, and let us know the extent of your misfortune, that with alacrity we may pour the healing balm of comfort, and share your sorrow. Ina, Speak, and let us know the worst.— Already I anticipate — ^ WaL Know, then, that upon opening the Will, I found that —Oh ! by heaven, my tongue blis- ters while I relate it — I found all was left to the Church!" Lortn, A vile forgery ! — Walburg, proceed. WaL Doubting its validity, I demanded trial. — Strait it was ordered. I stated my case — was re- viled, scoffed, and abused. Finally, sentence was pronounced against me— in favour of the Church ! Oh ! then my rage was up Choaking ire rose to THE WANDERER. 17 my throat— my hands clenched my sword-^-another moment, and I had rushed upon them, and ^ught my death. But dearly— dearly Ina, Your death 1— Oh, Walburg ! Wal A secret, hidden hand withheld me. My visionary fancies presented thee to my aching view :. Oh ! then my hand dropped nerveless to my side— My spirit groaned within me— ague seized me — and I rushed from the glorying, exulting court ot wickedness and blasphemy. At the porch Melmoth accosted me. Ina 8s Loren. Melmoth! WctL Aye, Melmoth :— And, if that amazes thee, list again, and let it turn thy brain, as it has mine. Melmoth and Rinaldo are one ! [They shudder — Ina sinks into a Qhair. Loren, Just heavens ! And spake he to ye ? • What said he — I am filled with wonder 1 WaL Yes — yes! The dead rises from the grave — the tomb gives up its inhabitant — ^the cold and loathsome living corpse demands my innocent offspring as the bride of pollution. Corruption!— ]the dead ! — No, by heaven it shall not be ! Oh \ the curses of the wicked one are strong — I feel them— ^they are upon me! — Brand after brand strikes to my , brain Curse ! — I am the cause : — Curse ! Curse ! — (^Falls exhausted.) Loren. {raising him,) Walburg, be more yourself: shake off this agitation, for your own happiness— the happiness of your wife, your child, your Im- malee ! IVaL (starting up.) Immalee !— Where is she ? Ina. But now she left us— doubtless she is in her room. Wai. Lorenzo, go nay— quickly, quickly I— Oh ! excuse my harshness — I know not what I do or say. See if my Immalee is in her room— bring her here— I would speak with her. There— go — go - [Exit Lorenzo. Ina, Why so anxious for her? — She is- — — 18 MELMOTH, Whl. Wife, wife, there is a reason. I could tell thee, that would —Now, where is she t Will she come ? (to Lorenzo, as he enters.) Lor en. She has left the house ! WaL Ha! where — where is she gone ? Wife, for pity's sake, tell me Ina, You terrify me ! — She spoke of visiting the Abbey ruins : I knew not she had gone. WaL The Abbey ruins ! — Then I must seek her there. Oh! Ina, 1 could tell thee, that would make thy flesh creep in horror, thy blood curdle with disgust. But, while I speak, she is lost— while I hesitate, she is ruined past redemption ! — -Answer not — speak not — anon, I'll join thee. — — Immalee, stay ! thy father comes. Join not thy hands with his : wed with the grave first. Immalee ! [Rushes out. — Exeunt omnes,. SCENE II.— Abbey Ruins. Enter Immaiee and Melmoth. Slel. Then, Immalee, you are mine. Said you not so ? Imma. Oh, no, no ! I said it not ! Melmoth, cannot the horrid price of happiness be annulled ? Mel, Say, Immalee, if I was stretched before you a black and stitfened corpse — my eyes closed in death — the grave ready to close on me for ever, and thy voice could bring me back, and thy word could bid me live, say, Immalee, would you be my pre- server ? Imina, Thou knowest I would — my life should be sac^rificed to save thine. But, Melmoth, to con- sent to Mel. Hold ! — A moment longer, and hear me. If thou dost not consent to , be mine before the hour of midnight — (thou sayest thou lov'st me) — this body will be stretched before you a black and stiffened corpse ; my eyes will be closed — my eye- balls dim ; the grave will be yawning for its victim; my time will have arrived— my hour will be coliae Oh, Immaleel ages— eternities of tortui*e aWait me ! Speak, speak, and bless — preserve thy Mei- moth! Imma. How to act — how to resolve! — — ^Wheti my poor father hears it, 'twill shorten his dear life, and bring him down heart-broken to the grave. Oh, Melmoth ! gain my fathers consent, and Im- malee will renounce kindred, country, habits; thoughts :—^Gain but his consent, and I am thine for ever. MeL If I could gain thy father s sanction, wouldst thou consent to join thy destiny with mine! Would'st thou indeed be mine, amid mystery and sorrow ? Would'st thou follow mcfrom land to s^ea, and from sea to land— a restless, harmless, devoted being- the brand on thy brow, and the curse on thy name ? Wouldst thou indeed be mine, my own, my only Immalee ? , ; Imm, {wildlij) I would ! I will! {Throws herself into- his dnns.) {WdlhviVg, without.'] WaL Immalee! Immalee! my child, where ait thou ? Imma. Haste ! 'tis my father's voice !— Swift ! let -me fly! His frown w^ould annihilate me. - Mel. Nay, stay : the moment is most opportune* I will put it to him. Wal. {entering.) Ha! Immalee, my child, I hav€^ found thee! — Come, thy father's arms are open to rebeive ye. Monster! detain her not; or, by heavens ! you shall find that I have yet the strength and courage of my youth ! Mel. Nay, waste not words, good man. Im- malee (to save me from an impending death) con- sents to wed with Melmoth. Thy approbation alone is wanted, and Immalee will be mine. Wal. 'Tis false— 'tis false as hell ! She cannot be so lost to virtue, reason, duty !— Say^ Iinma- iee^But, hold ! Before tbe word doth pass th^t 20 MELMOTH, beauteouis lip, list to me : ^The monster, Mel- moth, stands before you — Now, speak, and ease ray souL Imma. I know him, my father — I know 'tis Mel- moth. . Wal. By heavens, she leans toward him !— Im- malee — Immalee, and wouldst thou wed with a monster, who will prey upon thy every hour of peace and happiness ; whose every movement be- trays the ferocity, malignity of his soul ? Wouldst thou then wed a demon, Immalee ? MeL Speak, Immalee. Imma, I ! — oh, look not so sternly on me — 1 1 nay, then I cannot tell thee. WaL Speak! Confess! {sternly.) Imma, I love him! I love himl MeL Thou hearest — WaL I do! {a pause,)~Oh> Immalee! I had thought that when Walburg, or Ina, died— their Immalee would have mourned the loss, comforted, nourished, cherished the survivor with filial and affectionate kindness ; but, all pleasant hopes are blasted— lost— for ever. I see thee willingly re- nounce thy home— thy parents — kindred — all! I cannot withhold ! Imma, Father! dear father ! Wring not your poor Immalee's already broken heart to anguish ! Mel- moth ! the terms— the horrid terms by which I am to be yours! my father knows them not. He must 1 he must ! MeL Infatuated girl ! But, if it must be so, know, that I have sworn to marry a maid, and WaL Enough! I know thee not! Immalee — I cannot, tell what magic spell draws thee with such force towards destruction— but, if thou didst ever love thy parent— if thou did'st ever reverence his command— by that love— by that obedience — I entreat thee— follow me ! Imma, {Agitated greatly,) Father— I— nay, Mel- moth, he will relent ;— on my kne^s, I implore— entreat ! tH£ WANDERER. 21 WaL Kneel not to me! Speak not to me!— Immalee— return to us— quit that demon— and I will bless thee!— but, if thou dost resist me — oh! may my deepest curse fall heavy on you— may every fancied happiness be found a grief— may sick- ness, misery, and all the long catalogue of disastrous ills, fall on thee and thine 1— Follow me ! Imma. Father— I will— I will go with you ! ^ MeL {Seizing her hand,) Immalee! at midnight! Imma. Ha! my brain's on fire!— Father! ha, ha I ~ Melmoth ! WaL Immalee— thy father calls ! follow ! Imma. Heavens! Father, I obey! Melmoth, farewell— for ever ! Father, I come !— ha— ha— ha ! [Attempts to follow her Father— but, before she reaches him, (as he exits ) she falls senseless. — Melmoth raises her. — The Scene closes on them. SCENE III.— Room at Walburg's. Lorenzo enters — leans upon a Table, in a dejected manner. Lor. Yes— it shall be so ! my health ! my life t all for her happiness.— Yes— he shall be obeyed ! What is life— what health— if deprived of that which makes life durable? 'tis resolved!— a few struggles, groans, and throbs, and all that is mortal, sinks into dark deep slumber. Immalee! that name— just heaven — how I have loved her ! but, no more of this — I shall grow coward. — ^Their means are not sufficient for their own support — ^why ? why should I be the devourer of their mite ?— this note will explain — (lays it on the ^ai/e.)— Pardon— pardon— just om- nipotent power ! Immalee — may'st thou learn from this how great — how desperate the love of Lorenzo — ■ the lost— dead— dead Lorenzo ! — [Rmhes into a room. Enter l^ A, with Child asleep— she lays it down, and gazes on it. Ina. Sleep on, sweet innocent! may thy future 22 MELMdTH, dreams be all as peaceful ! may st thoa ireVer wakd to half the grief— the agony— the desperate des^pair of thy poor famished parents! Two days — no noiirish- ment— alas! alas! I can no longer bear it— my child ! my child ! . WaL (without, knocking,) Wife! Wife! Open quickly ! [Knocking repeated. Ina, (Opens door,) Hush I speak low— the baby sleeps. . WaL {Advances to the Child'--gazes at it a moment'—' then, seizing his Wifes hand, he looks anxiously in her y^ce.)— Hark ye, wife— I once thought, that by humouring their infant wishes, we ensured love and respect from them when arrived at years of maturity . Alas ! I find I was mistaken ; vice blends its baneful bitters in the cup where every virtue seemed to ij^ell — the sweet whispering cup is raised — the bitter horrid poison dashes to the lip, and every promised sweet is nauseous bitter. Ina! if thou would'st not nourish an adder in thy bosom, which will one day sting thee to the soul — now, that sleeps innocent sleep rests on its eyelids — say! shall I Speak, Ina {—{Seizes a large knife,) Ina, Walburg! what means this wild, this m- coherent talk ? Our daughter, Immalee WaL Ha! forbear! she is the source— the hellish source of all my woes. Ina. What of her, Walburg ? Wal, Seek not the knowledge of it— but why withhold? Immalee— the child of our youth— the child of our dear lasting love— is lost— lost for ever! Melmoth will call her bride— oh! everlastmg tor- tures !— the bride of death !" Ina. It cannot be! It cannot be! I know her heart— h^r feeling nature— ever kind, pure, and affectionate ! It cannot be ! Wal, Ina— you deceive yourself !— Listen ! I have resolved ! our names must be blotted from the earth. Death— murder— desperation is in my mind ! Ina— I have sworn— strive not to persuade me ! I will not THE WANDEHER. 23 live to see my child's disgrace — my honest family's misery and infamy ! — a few more days at most, an^ horrid lingering death await us. Starvation !— oh ! 'tis horrid ! say, will it not be best to save the anguish — agony — and die at once — speak ? Ina. Waiburg — for shame ! Where is now your firmness ? Where is now your faith ? I have shared your fate ! food has not passed my lips since last you shared ii ! Still — I will not repine — but trust that the same power that inflicts will one day remove the infliction, and again bless us with health, and life, and happiness. WaL Sure thou art more than mortal! I sink beneath afiiictibn — but thou, Phcenix like, dost rise amidst the ruin^ of our fortune, and smile in sweet serenity ; — bui, I must now be firm. Why should we live — and but to meet with death — when thus I could rid me of woe, disgrace, and infamy ? Ina. We have admired the firmness of the martyrs— we have loved them for their zeal. Now, Waiburg— our time is come 1 it is an hour sharp and terrible ! WaL It is indeed. (Shudders,) Ina. But shall we therefore shrink ? — Your an- cestors were the first in Germany who embraced the Reformed Religion — have bled and blazed for it. Can there be a stronger attestation to the truth of it? Wai. Yes, yes ; that of starving for it. I have often felt— I feel it now— that a death at the stake would be happiness to what I now sufFer.^ What is this I hold ? Ina. It is my hand, my love. WaL Yours!— No — impossible!- Your hand was soft and cool — but this is dry ! —is this a human igind ? Ina — you must have been starving. Ina. Alas 1 we have all been so ! [A faint groan is heard as from the Room. WaL Hark? what death-like horrid moan was that ? — Ina ! heard you that dreadful groan ? 24 MELMOTH, Ina. Groan! no-^ Ws but the child moaning in its sleep. WaL Ha Why does he moan ? Ina. Alas'. Hunger is the cause! WaL And I sit and hear this !— I sit to hear his young sleep broken by dreams of hunger— while, for a word s speaking, I could pile this floor with mountains of gold, and all for the risk of-— Ina, Of what?— O^w^e^J— Of what? Oh, let us die— rot— before yourface, rather than thou should'st seal your perdition by that horrible—- WaL (Jiercely,) Hear me, woman ! Hear me, and tremble not!— To see my children die of famine, will be to me instant suicide, and impenitent despair— But, if I close with this fearful offer, I may yet repent ! escape, there is hope on one side— on the other, none. None ! None !— Your arms clmg around me— but they are cold ! you are wasted to a skeleton! shew me the means of a single meal, and I will spit at the tempter, and spurn him. But— where— where to find it ? Let me go then to meet him ! you will pray for me, Ina ? Ina ! Heavens I am I then speaking to a corpse ? (^She sinks into a chair) Ha! Is it so indeed? (looks at her with agitation) The cold hand of death is on her— starts up wildly— seizes the knife) The Child!— Oh, ^ madness!— Misery— my Child! Is there no other hand but mine to God!— To murder thee!— Well, well ; better so, than to let thee live to beg- to- r-to curse the author of your being!— No more! Phrenzy is in the thought!— Urchin! To thy heart! {raises the knife, and snatches off the covering) Ha! Ha! Ha! See! See! it smiles upon me— I cannot, cannot do it! {stands irresolute) [Ina starts from the chair— throws herself into the arms of Walburg.— Child clings to his knee, Ina, Walburg, dear Walburg! {he looks anriously on them) THL WANDEREE. 25 Waii Uhen thou art restored to life and sufFeringT-: tiay^ raise thy head—shelter it in my bosom— Inta^ Inzr-^knocking) Lorenzo, quick — open the door— {knocking repeated) Lorenzo — — {The door is forced, and never al Inquisitors rush in- and the: Chief stands forward) Inq, Seize the Murderers I Ina S^ Wai. Murderers!— Murderers! Wal. Back. — The first who lifts a hand, oi" steps a foot, dies on the spot Back- — ^ Back, I say! {he raises the knije) Monsters! Havel not been cast sufficiently low by your machinations^ , and art thou come here to heap insult upon injury. Beware! Beware! Beard not the lion in his den. , Inq. Nay, hold this frantic speech, and. know — 'Information has been laid before the Holy Inquisition, that you have committed horrid murder on the body of the youth Lorenzo— your unwilling- ness to open the door— the situation of your wife— your present alarm, and evident fear.— Wal. Rage! Rage! Inq. The knife! AlU— All! convince me of the fact. 2nd. Inq. A letter, we found it on the table— its contents may help the present charge. Inq. (reads) Ha! 'tis plain— The body to be delivered to Melmoth."— Now then, where have you concealed your victim ? Wal. Wonder, indignation, and horror! Bind up my speech! — Death to your fancies! Behold! In this Room, (I will conduct you) he sleeps in peace. [All but Ina enter room. Ina. Just heavens grant that the charge be false ; land yet I doubt me. [A cry of horror is heard within, Walburg rushes out of room, followed by Inquisitors. Ina. Now — Walburg — speak ! — Lorenzo is-- — ~ Wal. At the point of death! 7w«. Good heavens! — But you — Wal. Na— I am innocent ! The blood pours vitally 2g TIELMOTH, from bis bosom, and every vein— speech is gobfe— I am innoceiit—1 am innocent— of blood 1 iw. Bear him to the cells of the Inqmsition! Let the dying man be taken care of— dress hi* ^bounds-bear him aftfer us! Comel-Preparet- Follow 1 (as they are going out) •r.„,u»^i Imma. (without) Father! Father! DearFather!- (She enters, rushes up taker father, and throws her self at his feet he spurns her. Wal. Viper-Behold! This is the work of thy adored-detested Melmoth-I die! I dip! But oh how contented if I do but hear you say, you_wil renounce him.-^My own Immalee-renounce h»m! Imna. I do— I do! Wal. Swear! imma. {kneels) Father, I swear! Melmoth enter*, and seizes her hand. Mel. Immalee— Remember at Midnight. Wal. Immalee— your oath ! /mW. Father— Melmoth ! , ...a ^ me seizes both their hands— looks at each a moment, and then composing herself, clasps her hands fervently, and exclaims— I swear! tails prostrate at the feet of ^Blhmg. Th^form a picture Curtain Falls. END or ACT THE SECOND. ACT III. SCENE I.— A Landscape— Evening. Enter Popo, follotved by Slutto. Slutto. Popo— Popo, you're a deceiver. Popo. Slutto, you're a plague. Slutto Hey day! marry come up, my genu* Si^nor— and hey for your soft tender dears— why ySeceSSul-yes. I sly deceitful, why haven'tyou iworn a hundred odd times, that I was your only love? . , Popo. 'Well— but then I was a novice. &M«o. Signer Popo— hold your tongue— 1 will, THE WANDEKEE. 27 speak — a pretty life Fm likely to lead, if this is your treatment before marriage, what am , I. to expect after? one word for all, Jeronymo Popo; you're not a man fit to be called my husband — so trooper- march. Fopo, But my dear — think of my vow«— Slutto, False. P^^oo, My promises — — Slutto. Useless. Popo, My tears — ;/ ' :, ^ v.: Slutto, Feigned. Popo, My groans ' Slutto. A fetch. Popo, What ! is this my sweet, darling, 3ear, s^oft, tender, languishing, dying, crying, pleasing Signora Margaretta Slutto. Why then— if it is the^ dear little angel — angel's all sham- — I can see through it, and now Fve found you, you are a devil in petticoats. Slutto, "A devil in petticoats r Poj»o. Where's your hoofs ? Slutto, My hoofs, ha 1— Popo, What have you done with your tail ? Slutto, My tail— my hoof— a devil— why— — — Popo, Ha, ha,, ha ! — and was you really soft, enough to think, that L was in earnest. Ha, ha, ha I —why bless your stupid head, Fve a sweet, soft pretty, tender, little-girl — that Slutto, Popo 1 — Popo, Tall figure . . — Slutto, Signer Popo ! Popo, Plum p : ■ r Slutto, Popo! Popo! ) Popo, Fine eyes Slutto, Oh, my dear Popo t . Popo. And then, her nose, her cheeks, her lips — her lips, you little fool. Oh, fire, love, and Cupid I — her lips ^ Slutto, But Popo — who is she ? Popo. Ha> how Fve kissed those beautiful lips!— Phew. Slutto, Where is she, Popo, my love ? 2S MEXBIOTH', Popo, I've taken her round the waist, so— chucked her under the chin, so— and then IVe kissed, so--so --so. {kisses her furiously.) ' Slutto. Popo ! Popo ! What are you at ? Topo\ Making it up, you little devil. ^ Slutto, What, then are you really in earnest f Popo: Really ? Ha ! ha ! ha see how it is : you want me to fall out again, for the pleasure of makino' it up-Eh ! eh! Its all done -its settled. Slutto. What s, done, Popo ? Popo. Why, Father Anselmo will be with us at Midnight— then he 11 join our hands, marry us you know^you'll sell yourself to me-1 shall give my- self to you— and you'll be Mrs. Margaretta Slutto Po|)o.-^What is to be. DUETT. — Slutto and Popo. ^ From " Feudal Times." Slutto. All sliall leave their labouring, ^ We'll call each honest Jiei^hbouT ill : Hey tor pipe and tiibouring, When I and Popo wed. Popo. Never shall our holiday Be called a melancholy day ; It shall be a jolly day When I and bluttp bed ^Qfj^^ Fal de ral de ml, 8;e. Slutto. Then, Popo, swe«t Popo, siace you have a mind to Prarpromise, when married, always to be kind to Popo. All th"at'l have, Slatto; I^*^^ ^^^^ All shall be thine, Slutto ; 1 must wear the breeches Bott""''' FaKieraL Slutto. Yet they say, love's a doubt, Mai:riage often wears it oat : — Ere a year comes about, Lost is love and joy. Popo. Ere a year passes by, Sure our love will multiply ; Mother you— Father I— r Qf a chopping Boy ! THE WANDERER. 29 y Enter' Tmm ALEE, followed by Melmoth. Father ! Fat^^^^ MeL {re.sirabnng ^er.l Immalee, forbear! why seek certain destruction ?—Immalee, behold me prostrate— humble— heart-broken — ^^at your feet! T love ye— love ye to distraction !—Immalee, the shades of evening are drawing close around us : a few short moments alone are left, Immalee, be my better angel — my preserver! Imma. IMelmoth, is this a time to talk of love is this a time to dream of happiness ^— My father I my poor dear father !^ — (iveeps.) ' MeL Angel of mercy, stay and hear nie!^ — Up- braid' me not — do not contemn me. If I am pas- sionate, your beauty makes me so ; it I am preci^^ pitate, oh ! Immalee, my danger causes it. Think, think, my Immalee. Thou wilt not murder me ! Imma. Melmoth, cease to persuade 1 have sworn Jl/e/. Sweet, you have. .But have you allo^ved yotirself to thiiik on half the horror that oath, if strictly kept, will bind upon -ye ?— I mmalee, can I gaze on thy sweet face, blooming in all the life and paradise of virtue, and marked with every budding innocence, and then to think it possible that thou couldst contemplate thy father stretched on the rack — thy mother's limbs writhing in agony — -when ty a single word, ^ syllable, you- could snatch them from impending death. - No'r no, no, Immalee i— it must not — cannot be. ' r « Imma, Ha ! is it thus ?^ — -^But, who has drivea them to this horrid pass WT was you, Melmoth — 'twas you, on whom my heart doted — — You^. you! MeL It was. You know my power— be wise, be happy. An ^ath! — Oh, Immalee! if thou dost love thyself, thy father; mother, or else respect it not. On one side, happiness and all its merry train presents itself— on the other, misery, beggary, de- spair, and death. Come, coftie, Immalee — the Abbey Ruins.^ ^Wed me.H^BehoM! night ap- ^ MELMOTH, proaches a fatal, horrid night to me. Gome— the Abbey Ruins ! — Come — come. Imma. Melmoth, your words have pierced me ta my soul. Go to my father; pray to him sent : he will relent— he will pardon— he will— he ^illl_Bring him to the Abbey Ruins— 111 meet thee there. Time wears— away, Melmoth, away ! MeL I go— I go. Oh! may the expression of thine eye beam in mine, when pleading to thy father— then, and then alone, success is certain.-- With eagle's swiftness will I seek your Father, and join you on the instant.— Remember!— Remember 1 SCENE ll,—Du72geon of the Inquisition, " A tamp suspended from the roof— a grated door on one side— at the back, a small secret panel door. Wal- bqrg asleep on a couch— Invi lying on some straw, Wal (dreaming,) Ha! lovely youth!— Lorenzo, they said I killed you. Thy face is bright, and thy hair shiny. Your hand, Lorenzo— Oh! cold— cold ^51d._Ag^in I what ails thee ?-r-Tny hair ,is clotted with blood!— Hal avaunt !-r'tis Metaioth —Pemoa!— before her poor fathers face-r— Hark! she c^lls her father !—Immalee, I come— comeT— i)ie> viper, die! -What have I done ?— Immalee J oh" poor Immalee ! — -Ha l the room blazes !— sav^ the child !r ^Wife— Inarr-see that beam ! ha! it blazes— burns— it cracks— ha!, ha! it fallg— it crushes— Gods ! Wjfe— Ina— Ina \—iStarti up wildly, and rushes to the front,) Ina, Walburg— dear Walburg— Wal. Ina here ? Ina, they went this way— you must have let them pas&.r^Oh ! 'twas, xru^lry- cruel — cruel * < Ina, Talk not thus wildly^ dearest— you alarm me! — • \ • Wal, Wildly, wildly— why should I be otherwise, is not my daughter dead ? am I not curst and hated, and loathed by all the world?— Ina!— Ina!— I have floods at my heart !— madness on my bram!— I am a wretch!— a very wretch!- 31 Ina, Dear Walburg !— do not agitate yourself thus - Wal, (vacantly) Oh, Ina! I know you love me — yes, though I have ruined all your prospects, and blasted all your hopes— still 1 find, I feel you love me^ 'Ina, 1 shall die soon. You will weep for me, wear sables on my account, and drop a tear upon my grave.— Ina— Dear Walburg, rest on this mat — will watch bv you. WaL "Hush, Ina!— tis folly. Can a father rest, ^and know his child's in danger? No, no !— Wife ^-c. THE WANDERER. 35 play upon its face. Melmotli stands aghast,) Horror ! the time is arrived — still it strikes not ! Why — why- do 1 dally thus? Immalee ! hasten or I'm lost — lost for ever! (Walburg and Immalee enter at back.) Ha! they come ! Walburg ! Immalee ! Behold — behold the horrid record of my guilt — my shame! Come to the Altar ! fiaste — haste ! Imma. Father, the events of the night have nearly maddened me ! I can no more— — support me 1 {^faints?) Wal. Nay, dearest Immalee— rouse thee love — and brave these unnatural horrors with my wild heroism 1 Mel. Quick ! — Quick! Bear her to the Altar — she must be wedded thus ! Ha ! The hand moves— still it strikes not! Immalee — Rouse thee, love! (He takes her in his arms.) Toward the altar, Walburg ! Wal. Nay ! Nay ! She will recover ! Mel. A moment lost — seals my perdition ! [He places he?^ before the Altar. Wal. The altar is prepared !— the bride is ready 1 The Father waits ! where is the holy priest ! Mel. At hand !— Behold ! [He stamps' his foot — the tojnb bursts open — the Monk appears, surrounded by Fire ; a deep wound is upon his forehead, and his face is pale and ghastly.. Wal. It shall not be! — it shall not be! — No, rather would I meet death in its most horrid shape ! Come, Immalee— my child ! let us leave this place of horror ! Mel. Nay, but by hell you shall not !— Immalee, you have sworn — Walburg, your consent is regis- tered by attesting angels ! stir but a step, and this strong arm, nerved with infernal force, shall strike thee blasted to the earth ! Wal. Wretch !— an old man's hand — may strike thee to thy heart 1 — — \They fight, Walburg disarmed and thrown. Imma. Spare him! spare him! sparehis grey hairs! Mel. Be mine ! Imma. Never I Mel. His fate is sealed! [Rushes towards Immalee withholds him. 36 MELMOTH Imma. Help! help! MeL You call in vain. [Lorenzo rushes in — sword drawn. Loren, No — not while Lorenzo lives, or wears a sword ! — Murderer ! — Traitor! — dare if thou canst, the face and strength of youth, and so be vanquisher or vanquished nobly! — On! MeL Head-strong boy ! — Be sure thy fate is death for thy temerity ! [Theijfght. Kvit fighting. Imma. ( Clinging to her Father.) Father — Speak to your Immalee ! — oh, what a scene is here ! — ha ! the dial ! the hand moves — it is an hour ! now, now, it strikes ! [Melmoth enters at the moment, — stands aghast. It strikes slowly. Mel. The hour has arrived — and I am lost, lost for ever! — Immalee ! — Walburg! — humbly on my knees, biting the earth at your feet, 1 entreat, implore — save me ! save me ! — say but the word, and I am re- deemed ! — Nine, Ten, nay then, 'tis too late ! Walburg — had you not thrust yourself between me and bliss, 1 might have been repentant — happy ! — Now to add, one more (the last) to the long cata- logue of my crimes ! die ! \_He seizes Walburg — they grapple — Walburg is thrown with force; the last sound strikes — Melmoth utters a cry of terror ; a Thunderholt descends, strikes him, he totters and falls near a ruin, which instantly falls to pieces, and crushes him. Shouts are heard.— horenzo and Ii^ rushes on, attended by a number of Monks, 8^c. hearing Torches ; they rush to the Front. Loren. Joy ! Joy to the heirs of Guzman ! grap- pling with our dread enemy^ — his vest flew open ! I seized it ! — behold ! \^He ejchibits a scroll, on which appears — All to Walburg and his heirs.'' Wal. Ha! is it Joy! Joy! Wife! Immalee Lorenzo — my preserver ! [They form a group. Curtain falls. F. MartksU, Printer, Kenton Street, £rc:&twic.k-iq.