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GEORGE BARNWELL.

BY

LILLO

PROLOGUE

The Tragic Muse, sublime, delights to show | The absent pomp with brighter gems supply.
Princes distress'd, and scenes of royal woe; Forgive us, then, if we attempt to shew,
In awful pomp, majestic, to relate

In artless strains, a tale of private woe.
The fall of nations, or some hero's fate;

A London 'prentice ruin'd is our theme, That scepter'd chiefs may, by example, know Drawn from the fam'dold song that bears his name. The strange vicissitudes of life below;.

We hope your taste is not so light to scorn i What dangers on security attend,

A moral tale esteem'd ere you were born; . How pride and cruelty in ruin end ;

Which, for a century of rolling years, Hence providence supreme to know, and own Has fili'd a thousand thousand eyes with tears. : Humanity adds glory to a throne.

If thoughtless youth, to warn and shame the age In every former age, and foreign tongue,

From vice destructive, well becomes the stage; With native grandeur thus the goddess sung. If this example innocence insure, Upon our stage, indeed, with wish'd success, | Prevent our guilt, or by reflection cure; You've sometimes seen her in an humbler dress; | If Millwood's dreadful crimes, and sad despair, Great only in distress, when she complains, Commend the virtue of the good and fair; In Southern's, Rowe's, or Otway's moving strains, Though art be wanting, and our numbers fail, The brilliant drops that fall from each bright eye, Indulge the attempt, in justice to the tale.

DRAMATÍS PERSONÆ.

MEN.

WOMEN.
THOROWGOOD, a Merchant.

MARIA, Daughter to Thorowgood.
BARNWELL, Uncle to George.

MilLWOOD, Mistress to Barnwell.
GEORGE BARNWELL.

LUCY, Millwood's Maid.
TRUEMAN, Friend to Barnwell,

Officers, with their Attendants, Keeper,
BLUNT, Millwood's Footman.

and Footman. SCENE,-London, and an adjacent Village.

ACT І.

saved ! Excellent queen! O how unlike those SCENE I.—A Room in THOROWGOOD's House. princes, who make the danger of foreign enemies

a pretence to oppress their subjects by taxes Enter THOROWGOOD and TRUEMAN.

great, and grievous to be borne! True. Sir, the packet from Genoa is arrived. Thor. Not so our gracious queen; whose richest

[Gives letters. | exchequer is her people's love, as their happiness Thor, Heaven be praised! The storm that her greatest glory. threatened our royal mistress, pure religion, li True. On these terms to defend us, is to make berty, and laws, is, for a time, diverted. The our protection a benefit worthy her who confers haughty and revengeful Spaniard, disappointed of it, and well worth our acceptance. Sir, have you the loan on which he depended from Genoa, | any commands for me at this time? must now attend the slow returns of wealth from 'Thor, Only look carefully over the files, to his new world, to supply his empty coffers, ere he see whether there are any tradesmen's bills uncan execute his proposed invasion of our happy paid ; if there are, send and discharge them. We island. By this means, time is gained to make must not let artificers lose their time, so useful such preparations, on our part, as may, Heaven to the public and their families, in unnecessary concurring, prevent his malice, or turn the medi- attendance.

[Exit TRUEMAN. tated mischief on himself. True. He must be insensible indeed, who is

Enter MARIA. not affected when the safety of his country is con- Well, Maria, have you given orders for the encerned. Sir, may I know by what means - tertainment? I would have it in some measure If I am not too bold

worthy the guests. Let there be plenty, and of Thor. Your curiosity is laudable; and I gratify the best, that the courtiers may at least commend it with the greater pleasure, because from thence our hospitality. you may learn, how honest merchants, as such, Mar. Sir, I have endeavoured not to wrong may sometimes contribute to the safety of their your well-known generosity by an ill-timed parsicountry, as they do at all times to its happiness; mony. that if hereafter you should be tempted to any Thor. Nay, it was a needless caution : I have action that has the appearance of vice or mean no cause to doubt your prudence. ness in it, upon reflecting on the dignity of our | Mar. Sir, I find myself unfit for conversation; sprofession, you may, with honest scorn, reject | I should but increase the number of the company, whatever is unworthy of it.

without adding to their satisfaction, True. Should Barnwell, or 1, who have the be- Thor. Nay, my child, this melancholy must not nefit of your example, by our ill conduct, bring be indulged. any imputation on that honourable name, we Mar. Company will but increase it: I wish must be left without excuse.

you would dispense with my absence. Solitude Thor. You compliment, young man. [TRUE-bost suits my present temper. MAN bows respectfully.] Nay, I am not offended. Thor. You are not insensible, that it is chiefly As the name of merchant never degrades the on your account these noble lords do me the hogentleman, so, by no means does it exclude him; nouir so frequently to grace my board. Should only take heed not to purchase the character of you be absent, the disappointment may make complaisant at the expence of your sincerity.—| them repent of their condescension, and think But, to answer your question: The bank of Ge- their labour lost. noa had agreed, at an excessive interest, and on Mar. He, that shall think his time or honour good security, to advance the king of Spain a sum lost in visiting you, can set no real value on your of money sufficient to equip his vast Armada; of daughter's company, whose only merit is, that she which our peerless Elizabeth (more than in name is yours. The man of quality, who chooses to the mother of her people) being well informed, converse with a gentleman and merchant of your sent Walsingham, her wise and faithful secretary, worth and character, may confer honour by so to consult the merchants of this loyal city; who doing, but he loses none. all agreed to direct their several agents to influ Thor. Come, come, Maria, I need not tell you, ence, if possible, the Genoese to break their con

that a young gentleman may prefer your convertract with the Spanish court. It is done: the sation to mine, and yet intend me no disrespect state and bank of Genoa having maturely weighed, at all; for though he may lose no honour in my and rightly judged of their true interest, prefer company, it is very natural for him to expect the friendship of the merchants of London to more pleasure in yours. I remember the time that of the monarch, who proudly styles himself when the company of the greatest and wisest king of both Indies.

men in the kingdom would have been insipid and True. Happy success of prudent counsels! | tiresome to me, if it had deprived me of an op What an expence of blood and treasure is here 'portunity of enjoying your mother's.

Mar. Yours, no doubt, was as agreeable to affairs with us; we are no otherwise esteemed her; for generous minds know no pleasure in so- or regarded by them, but as we contribute to ciety but where it is mutual.

their satisfaction. Thor. Thou knowest I have no heir, no child, Lucy. You are certainly, madam, on the but thee; the fruits of many years successful in wrong side in this argument. Is not the expence dustry must all be thine. Now, it would give me all theirs ? And, I am sure, it is our own fault if pleasure, great as my love, to see on whom you we have not our share of the pleasure. will bestow it. I am daily solicited, by.men of Mill. We are but slaves to men. the greatest rank and merit, for leave to address Lucy. Nay, it is they that are slaves, most cer you : but I have hitherto declined it, in hopes tainly; for we lay them under contribution. that, by observation, I should learn which way 1 Mill. Slaves have no property; no, not even your indinations tend; for, as I know love to be in themselves : all is the victor's. essential to the married state, I had rather my Lucy. You are strangely arbitrary in your approbation should confirm your choice, than di- principles, madam. tect it.

Mill. I would have my conquest complete, like Mar. What can I say? How shall I answer, those of the Spaniards in the new world; w as I ought, this tenderness, so uncommon even in first plundered the natives of all the wealth they the best of parents ? But you are without ex had, and then condemned the wretches to the ample; yet, had you been less indulgent, I bad mines for life, to work for more. been most wretched. That I look on the crowd Lucy. Well, I shall neyer approve of your of courtiers that visit here, with equal esteem, scheme of government; I should think it much but equal indifference, you have observed, and I | more politic, as well as just, to find my subjects must needs cunfess; yet, had you asserted your an easier employment. authority, and insisted on a parent's right to be Mill. It is a general maxim among the knowobeyed, I bad subinitted, and to my duty sacri- ing part of mankind, that a woman without vir

tue, like a man without honour or honesty, is caTror. From your perfect obedience, in every pable of any action, though never so vile : and other instance, I feared as much : and therefore yet what pains will they not take, what arts not would leave you, without a bias, in an affair use, to seduce us from our innocence, and make wherein your happiness is so immediately con us contemptible and wicked, even in their own cerned.

opinion? Then, is it not just, the villains, to their diar. Whether from a want of that just ambi cost, should find us so? But guilt makes them tion that would become your daughter, .or from suspicious, and keeps them on their guard; there some other cause, I know not; but I find high fore we can take advantage only of the young birth and titles don't recommend the man, who and innocent part of the sex, who, having never owns them, to my affections.

injured women, apprehend no injury from them. Thur. I would not that they should, unless his Lucy. Ay, they must be young indeed. merit recommends him more. A noble birth and Miil. Such a one, I think, I have found. As fortune, though they make not a bad man good, I have passed through the city, I have often oh yet they are a real advantage to a worthy one, served him receiving and paying considerable and place his virtues in the fairest light.

sums of money ; from thence I conclude, that he Mar. I cannot answer for my inclinations; but is employed in affairs of consequence. chey shall ever be submitted to your wisdom and Lucy. Is he handsome? authority. And as you will not compel me to Mill, Ay, ay, the stripling is well made, and marry where I cannot love, love shall never make has a good face. me act contrary to my duty. Sir, have I your Lucy. About permission to retire ?

Miil. Eighteen. Thor. I'H see you to your chamber. (Ereunt. Lucy. Innocent, handsome, and about eigh

teen !--You will be vastly happy. Why, if you SCENE II. A Room in MILLWOOD's House. manage well, you may keep him to yourself these

two or three years. Enter MilLWOOD and Lucy,

Mill. If į manage well, I shall have done Mill. How do I look today, Lucy?

with him much sooner. . Having long had a den Lucy. Oh, killingly, madam! A little more red, sign on him, and meeting him yesterday, I made and you'll be irresistible. But why this more a full stop, and, gazing wishfully in his face, ask. than ordinary care of your dress and complexion? ed his name. He blushed, and, bowing very low, What new conquest are you aiming at?"

answered, George Barnwell. I begged his parMill. A conquest would be new indeed. don for the freedom I had taken, and told him, Lucy. Not to you, who make them every day that he was the person I had long wished to see,

but to me. Well, it is what I am never to and to whom I had an affair of importance to expect, unfortunate as I am; but your wit and communicate at a proper time and place. He

named a tavern; I talked of honour and reputaMill, First made me a wretch, and still conti- tion, and invited him to my house. He swala nue me so. Men, however generous or sincere lowed the bait, promised to come, and this is ) one another, are all selfish hypocrites in their the time I expect him. [Knocking at the door,

Someboily knocks- D'ye hear; I am at home than myself. I do not know that person in the to nobody to-day but him. [Erit Lucy.) Less world, whose happiness I do not wish, and affairs must give way to those of more conse- would not promote, were it in my power. In an quence; and I am strangely mistaken if this does especial manner I love my uncle, and my master; not prove of great importance to me, and him but, above all, my friend. too, before I have done with him. Now, after Mill. You have a friend, then, whom you love? what manner shall I receive him? Let me con. Barn. As he does me, sincerely. sider— What manner of person am I to re Mill. He is, no doubt, often blessed with your ccive? He is young, innocent, and bashful ; company and conversation ? therefore I must take care not to put him out of Burn. We live in one house, and both serve countenance at first. But then, if I have any the same worthy merchant. skill in physiognomy, he is amorous; and, with a Mill. Happy, happy youth! Whoever thou art, little assistance, will soon get the better of his I envy thee, and so must all, who see and know modesty. I will even trust to nature, who does this youth. What have I lost, by being formed wonders in these matters. If to seem what one a woman! I hate my sex, myself. Had I been a is not, in order to be the better liked for what man, I might, perhaps, have been as happy in one really is; if to speak one thing, and mean your friendship, as he who now enjoys it is : but the direct contrary, be art in a woman-I know as it is-Oh! nothing of nature.

Barn. I never observed woman before; or

this is, sure, the most beautiful of her sex. (Aside.] Enter BARNWELL, bowing very low. LUCY at You seem disordered, madam-May I know the a distance.

cause? Mill. Sir, the surprise and joy

Mill. Do not ask me I can never speak it, Barn, Madam !

whatever is the cause. I wish for things imposMill. This is such a favour (Advancing. sible. I would be a servant, bound to the same Barn. Pardon me, madam.

master, to live in one house with you. Mill. So unhoped for! (Still advances, Burn. How strange, and yet how kind, her

(BARNWELL salutes her, and retires as in words and actions are ! And the effect they have confusion.

on me is as strange. I feel desires I never knew To see you here-Excuse the confusion

before. I must be gone, while I have power to Barn. I fear I am too bold

go. [Aside.] Madam, I humbly take my leave. Mill. Alas, sir, I may justly apprehend you 1 Mill. You will not, sure, leave me so soon! think me so. Please, sir, to sit. I am as much Barn. Indeed I must. at a loss how to receive this honour as I ought, as Mill. You cannot be so cruel! I have prepared I am surprised at your goodness in conferring it. a poor supper, at which I promised myself your · Barn. I thought you had expected me; I pro company. mised to come.

Barn. I am sorry I must refuse the honour Mill. That is the more surprising; few men you designed me; but my duty to my master calls are such religious observers of their word. me hence. I never yet neglected his service. He Barn. All who are honest are.

is so gentle, and so good a master, that, should Mill. To one another; but we simple women I wrong him, though he might forgive me, I are seldom thought of consequence enough to should never forgive myself. gain a place in their remembrance.

Mill. Am I refused by the first man, the se(Laying her hand on his, as by accident. cond favour I ever stooped to ask? Go then, thou Barn. Her disorder is so great, she don't per proud hard-hearted youth; but know, you are the ceive she has laid her hand on mine. Heavens ! only man that could be found, who would let me How she trembles !—What can this mean? sue twice for greater favours.

(Aside. Burn. What shall I do? How shall I go, or Mill. The interest I have in all that relates to stay? you (the reason of which you shall know here Mill. Yet do not, do not leave me. I with my after) excites my curiosity; and, were I sure you | sex's pride would meet your scorn; but when ! would pardon my presumption, I should desire look upon you, when I behold those eyes-Oh! to know your real sentiments on a very particu spare my tongue, and let my blushes--this flood lar subject.

of tears too, that will force its way, declareBarn. Madam, you may command my poor what woman's modesty should hide. thoughts on any subject. I have none that I 1 Barn. Oh, heavens! she loves me, worthless as would conceal.

I am. Her looks, her words, her flowing tears Mill. You will think me bold.

confess it. And can I leave her then? Oh, never, Barn. No, indeed.

never !-Madam, dry up your tears : you shall Mill. What, then, are your thoughts of love? command me always; I will stay here for ever,

Barn. If you mean the love of women, I have if you would have me. not thought of it at all. My youth and circum Lucy. So: she has wheedled him out of his virstances make such thoughts improper in me yet. | tue of obedience already, and will strip him of But if you mean the general love we owe to man all the rest, one after another, till she has left kind, I think po one has more of it in his temper / him as few as ber ladyship, or myself. [Aside. Mill. Now you are kind indeed! but I mean Blunt, Well, and what hopes are there of sucnot to detain you always: I would have you shake | cess in that? off all slavish obedience to your master; but you Lucy. The most promising that can be. It is may serve him still.

true the youth has his scruples; but she will soon Lucy. Serve him still! Ay, or he'll have no teach him to answer them, by stifling his conopportunity of fingering his cash; and then he'll science. Oh, the lad is in a hopeful way, depend not serve your end, I'll be sworn. (Aside. upon it.

[Exeunt. Enter BLUNT.

SCENE III. Blunt. Madam, supper's on the table.

Mill. Come, sir, you'll excuse all defects. My | Draws, and discovers BARNWELL and MILLthoughts were too much employed on my guest,

Wood at supper. An entertainment of music to observe the entertainment.

and singing. After which they come forward. [Ereunt BARNWELL and MILLWOOD. Barn. What can I answer? All that I know Blunt. What! is all this preparation, this ele is, that you are fair, and I am miserable. gant supper, variety of wines, and music, for the Mill. We are both so, and yet the fault is in entertainment of that young fellow?

ourselves. Lury. So it seems.

Barn. To ease our present anguish by plungBlunt. How! is our mistress turned foolat last? ing into gailt, is to buy a moment's pleasure with She's in love with him, I suppose.

an age of pain. Lucy. I suppose not. But she designs to make Mill. I should have thought the joys of love him in love with her, if she can.

as lasting as they are great; if ours prove otherBlunt. What will she get by that? He seems wise, it is your inconstancy must make them so. under age, and cannot be supposed to have much Barn. The law of Heaven will not be revermoney.

sed, and that requires us to govern our passions. Lucy. But his master has, and that's the same Mill. To give us sense of beauty and desires, thing, as she will manage it.

and yet forbid us to taste and be happy, is a Blunt. I do not like this fooling with a hand- cruelty to nature. Have we passions only to some young fellow : while she is endeavouring to | torment us? epsnare bin, she may be caught herself.

Barn. To hear you talk, though in the cause Lucy. Nay, were she like me, that would cer- of vice; to gaze upon your beauty, press your tainly be the consequence; for, I confess, there hand, and see your snow-white bosom heave and is something in youth and innocence that moves fall, inflame my wishes ; my pulse beats high, my me mightily.

senses all are in a hurry, and I am on the rack Blunt. Yes ; so does the smoothness and of wild desire.--Yet, for a moment's guilty plumpness of a partridge move a mighty desire pleasure, shall I lose my innocence, my peace of in the hawk to be the destruction of it.

mind, and hopes of solid happiness? Lucy. Why, birds are their prey, and men are | Mill. Chimeras all ! ours; though, as you observed, we are some Barn. I would not yet must on times caught ourselves. But that, I dare say, Reluctant thus the merchant quits his ease, will never be the case of our mistress.

And trusts to rocks and sands, and stormy seas ! Blunt. I wish it may prove so; for you know In hopes some unknown golden coast to find, we all depend upon her. Should she trifle away Commits himself, though doubtful, to the wind, her time with a young fellow that there is nothing Longs much for joys to come-yet mourns these to be got by, we must all starve.

left behind. Lucy. There is no danger of that; for I am Mill. Along with me, and prove sure she has no view in this affair but interest. No joys like woman-kind, no heaven like love.

(Exeunt.

ACT II.

| honest friend and injured master in the face ?SCENE 1.- A Room in THOROWGOOD's House. Though hypocrisy may a while conceal my guilt,

at length it will be known, and public shame and Enter BARNWELL.

ruin must ensue. In the mean time, what must Barn. How strange are all things round me! | be my life? Ever to speak a language foreign to Like some thief who treads forbidden ground, my heart ; hourly to add to the nunsber of my and fain would lurk unseen, fearful I enter each crimes, in order to conceal them. Sure such apartment of this well-known house. To guilty was the condition of the grand apostate, when love, as if that were too little, already have I ad-first he lost his purity. Like me, disconsolate ded breach of trust- A thief!-- Can I he wandered ; and, while yet in heaven, bore all know myself that wretched thing, and look my his future hell about him.'.

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