# A Series of Plays in which it is attempted to delineate The Stronger Passions of the Mind, Volume Two/The Election Act 5

ACT V.
SCENE I. A vaulted passage in a prison. Enter Keeper, with several Turnkeys bearing pots of porter, &c. for the prisoners.
Keep. (calling to somebody without.) Take another pot of porter to the dog-stealer in the north ward, and a Welsh rabbit to his comrade. (to another who enters with a covered dish.) Where have you been all this time?
1st Turn. Waiting on the rich debtor in the best chamber; he has fallen out with his stew'd carp, because the sauce of it be'nt cook'd to his liking.
Keep. I'm sorry for that: we must spare no pains upon him.
Enter 2d Turnkey.
2d Turn. (holding out a small jug.) Come, come, this won't do. Transportation-Betty says, nothing but true neat Hollands for her; and this here gin you have sent her be'nt fit for a gentlewoman to drink.
Keep. Yes, yes; travell'd ladies are woundy nice. However, we must not quarrel with her neither: take it to the poor author in the debtor's ward; it will be good enough for him.
Enter Truebridge.
True. What part of the prison is Mr. Baltimore in?
Keep. I'll shew you, Sir; follow me.
True. I thought to have found him in your own house. In the common prison?
Keep. It is his own fault, Sir; he would go no where else; and the more miserable every thing is about him, the better he likes it. His good lady could scarcely prevail upon him to let us set a couple of chairs in his room.
True. Has she been long here?
Keep. Better than an hour I should think.
True. Does he seem much affected?
Keep. Anan, Sir?
True. I mean, much cast down.
Keep. O, Lud; no, Sir! I dare say not; you know people are used to such things every day.
True. Very true, Mr. Keeper, I forgot that.—Show me the way. (Exeunt.
SCENE II. A prison. Baltimore is discovered sitting in a thoughtful posture, with Mrs. Baltimore resting her arm on the back of his chair, and observing him attentively.
Balt. (after starting up with alacrity, and walking several times up and down.) And they are calling out, as they go thro' the streets, that I am a true Baltimore, and the son of their old benefactor?
​ Mrs. B. They are, indeed. The same party that assembled to attempt your rescue, are still parading about tumultuously, and their numbers are continually increasing.
Balt. That's right! The enemy, I hope, has heard the sound of it round his doors: they have bid him a good morrow cheerily.
Mrs. B. I don't believe they suspect him yet, for it is too bad to imagine.
Balt. (exultingly.) But they will all know it soon. All the world will know it. Man, woman, and child will know it; and even clothed in the very coats his ostentatious bounty has bestow'd upon them, the grey-headed labourers will curse him. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! How many chaldron of coals, and hogsheads of ale, and well fatten'd oxen will, in one untoward moment, be forgotten by those ungrateful hinds! Ha, ha, ha! The very children will call to him as he passes by. Methinks I tread lightly on the floor of this dungeon, with the step of an injured man who rises from the grasp of oppression. Raise thy drooping head, my Isabella: I am a thousand times more happy than I have been: all mankind will sympathize with me now.
Mrs. B. Every honest breast, indeed, must detest baseness and hypocrisy.
Balt. Ay, thou speak'st with some energy now. Come to my heart! there will be sympathy between us. Now, thou art the wife of Baltimore! But oh! my Isabella! a poor man's wife has many duties to fulfil.
​ Mrs. B. None that I will not most cheerfully fulfil.
Balt. Ah! thou art a fair flower planted on an ungracious soil, and I have nursed thee rudely.
Mrs. B. O, no! you were most kind and gentle once.
Balt. And I will be so again, Isabella: for this viper gnaw'd at my heart, and I could be gentle to nothing; not even to thee. But my heart feels lighter now: I will be rough to thee no more.
Enter Truebridge.
Ha! my friend! good morning to you! Nay, nay: (taking his hand frankly.) don't be afraid to look at me: I wear no desponding face upon it. (pointing to the bare walls of his prison.) You see what a happy thing it is to have a liberal, generous, magnificent rival to contend with. Have you seen any of my good noisy friends on your way?
True. Yes, crowds of them; and I really believe this arrest will gain you your election. There is something in man that always inclines him to the side of the oppressed.
Balt. Ay, by God! and the savage feels it more strongly than the philosopher.
True. He was always a ridiculous ostentatious fellow; but if Freeman has thought to ruin your cause by the unworthy means you hint at, he is the greatest fool as well as the greatest knave in the community.
Balt. (ironically.) Don't be too severe upon him! he has been bred to turn his money to good account, ​you know: a purchased debt is his property as well as a bale of broadcloth; and he has a great many charitable deeds and bountiful donations to put into the balance against one little underhand act of unmanly baseness.
True. Hang all his bountiful donations! If he has done this, I will curse him by the hour-glass with any good fellow that will keep me company.
Balt. Nay, nay, nay! you are warm, Truebridge. You are of an irritable disposition. You have no charitable allowances to make for the failings of good people. Ha, ha, ha!
Enter Turnkey.
Turn. Mr. Freeman begs to be admitted to see Mr. Baltimore.
Balt. (stretching out his arm vehemently.) Does he, by my conscience! (to True.) What think you of this?
True. If things are as we suspect, it does, indeed, exceed all ordinary calculations of effrontery.
Balt. (to Turn.) Let him be admitted. (exit Turn.) Now we shall see the smoothness of his snake's skin; but the switch, not the sword, shall scotch it. (walks hastily up and down.)
Enter Freeman.
Balt. (stopping short upon his entrance, and assumes an ironical respect.) Good morning, worthy Sir. You are the only man in England, I may say in Europe, nay, I will say in the whole habitable globe, for you love magnificence, Mr. Freeman, whose ​dauntless confidence could have been wound up to the steady intrepidity of such a visit.
Free. (simply.) O, no, my friend, don't praise me more than I deserve. In courage to run to the assistance of a friend, you yourself have set me the example; and my character, I hope, will never be found deficient in any thing that becomes a good neighbour, and an honest man.
Balt. (smiling sarcastically.) Certainly, Sir; be at all pains to preserve, in the public opinion, your invaluable character. I would really advise you to have a certificate of all your eminent virtues drawn up, and sign'd by every housekeeper in the parish. Your wonderful liberalities in worsted hose and linsey-woolsey petticoats; your princely subscriptions for bridges and market-places; and your noble donations to lying-in hospitals, have raised your reputation over the whole country: and if the baseness of treacherously entrapping a fair and open rival, whom you profess'd to respect, can throw any shade upon your sublime virtues, you have only to build a tower to the parish church, or a new almshouse, and that will set every thing to rights again. (aside to True.) Look how he draws in his detestable mouth, and stares upon me like a cat?
Free. I now perceive, Sir, the point of your discourse, and I forgive every thing that it insinuates. I might say many things, but there is just one simple answer I will return to it. All my fortune is at this moment at your disposal. You shall now be a free unencumber'd man, owing no man any ​thing. For how can you be said to be indebted to one who owes even his own life to you. To tell you this, was my errand here.
Balt. (shrinking back, and then recovering himself with proud disdain.) And I, noble Sir, have one simple answer to return to you: I will rather remain in this prison till the hand of death unbolt my door, than owe my enlargement to you. Your treachery and your ostentatious generosity are equally contemptible.
Free. On the word of an honest man, I have had no knowledge of this shameful arrest,
Balt. And on the word of a gentleman, I believe you not.
Free. Will you put this affront upon me?
Balt. (smiling maliciously.) Only if you are obliging enough to bear it. Do entirely as you please. (aside to True. turning away contemptuously from Free.) See how like a sneaking timid reptile he looks. (walks up and down proudly.)
Mrs. B. much alarmed (to Free.) O, leave him! leave him! You must not speak to him now: he knows not what he says.
True. (aside to Free.) Go away for the present, Mr. Freeman, and I will call upon you by and bye. If you are an honest man, you are a noble one.
Free. (impressively.) In simple truth, then, I am an honest man; and I shall be glad to have some discourse with you whenever you are at leisure.(Exit.
​ Balt. (stopping short in his walk and looking round.) Is he gone? (to Free.) What did you think of that? Was it not admirable? (endeavouring to laugh but cannot.) The devil himself will now appear a novice in hypocrisy.
True. Faith! Baltimore, I cannot think him guilty: he wears not the face of a guilty man.
(Baltimore's countenance falls; he turns away abruptly from Truehridge and walks up and down in disorder.)
Mrs. B. (perceiving Freeman's hat on the ground, which he had dropt in his confusion.) Mr. Freeman has left his hat behind him. (As she stoops to lift it Balt. runs furiously up to her and prevents her.)
Balt. Touch not the damned thing, or I will loath thee! Who waits without? hollo! Turnkey! (Enter Turnkey; and he, giving the hat a kick with his foot, tosses it across the stage.) Take away that abomination, do! (Exit hastily into an inner apartment.)
True. Don't lose hopes of fair weather, my dear Madam, tho' we are now in the midst of the storm. Follow and sooth him, if it be possible, and I'll go in the mean time to Freeman. (Exeunt severally. ​
SCENE III. An open scattered street in a small country town. Enter Jenkison and Servet by opposite sides; and are going to pass without observing one another.
Serv. (calling to Jenk.) Not so fast, Mr. Jenkison, I was just going to your house.
Jenk. And 1 was just going to do myself the pleasure to call at your's.
Serv. And you was glad to go quickly along, I believe. It would neither be pleasant nor safe for you, perhaps, to meet the new member in his chair, with all his friends round him. "Baltimore for ever!" would not sound very pleasantly in your ears. Ay, Mr. Jenkison! You have made a fine hand of this business for a man of your pretensions in the profession.
Jenk. I believe, Mr. Servet, I may be permitted to assume to myself, without the imputation of vanity, as much professional dexterity in this affair as the most able of my contemporaries could have brought into the service. Every thing has been done that the very nicest manoeuvres of the law would admit of. Who could have thought of a rich friend, from nobody knows where, paying Baltimore's debts for him? Who could have thought of those fools taking him up so warmly upon his imprisonment, in manifest contradiction to the old proverb, that "rats and vermin leave a falling house?" Who could have thought so many of Mr. ​Freeman's friends would have stay'd from the poll, too, after solemnly promising their votes? I am sure you are too polite not to do me the justice to confess that these things were not to be counted upon. A pinch of your snuff, if you please: you keep the best rappee of any gentleman in the county.
Serv. But what can you say for yourself in the present bussiness, Mr. Jenkison? I'm sure, my client, Mr. Baltimore, has given you advantages enough, if you had known how to use them. Since his quarrel with Mr. Freeman in the prison, have not you and I gone between them with at least half-a-dozen of messages, unknown to their friends? and nothing but a paltry meeting with pistols to come of it after all! It is a disgrace to the profession.
Jenk. What could I have done, Mr. Servet?
Serv. What could you have done! Has not my client by my mouth, told your client in pretty plain terms, in return to all his amicable advances, that he is a liar, and a hypocrite, and a knave, and a coward; and with but very little difficulty on your part a kick or a cudgel might have been added: and do you ask me what was to be done with all this? A meeting with pistols, indeed! It is a disgrace to the profession. I once procured for a smug-faced client of mine a good douse o' the chops, which put a couple of hundred pounds into his pocket; enabling him thereby to run off with a rich heiress, and make his fortune, as you may well say by a stroke. As for myself I put, of course, double the sum in my own.
​ Jenk. Do me the favour to believe, my worthy Sir, that I have always looked up to your superior abilities with the profoundest respect. But have a little patience: and do me the honour to suppose I am not altogether a novice. We may have a duel first and a law-suit afterwards. I suppose we shall have the pleasure of meeting at the place and hour appointed.
Ser. Never doubt that. But I hear the crowd coming this way. (some of the crowd begin to enter, and a great noise is heard at a distance.) Let us avoid them, and talk further of this matter as we go. (exeunt Jenk. and Serv. Enter more of the crowd.)
First Mob. Well, I can't say but it was a rare speech.
Second Mob. And very nicely delivered.
First Mob. Ay, he is a nice man.
First Woman. And such a sweet-faced gentleman. He'll stand by his king and country, I warrant ye.
First Mob. (to third Mob.) But you lost it all, neighbour Brown, you was so long of coming. "Gentlemen," said he, and he bowed his head so, "the honour you have this day preferred me to"—
Second Mob. No, no, man; "that you have conferred upon me."
First Mob. Well, well, where's the difference. "I shall ever consider upon"——
Second Mob. Reflect upon.
First Mob. Did not I say reflect upon? "With—with great joy" no "great"—I dont't know very ​well; but he meant, as one should say, as how he would think upon us with good-will. And then, quoth he,—but first of all you know, he said, stretching out his hand so, that "the confidence imputed to him."
Second Mob. Tut, man! reposed upon him.
First Mob. Did not I say so as plain as a man could speak?—Was a trust that, with the greatest scrupulousness of regard—That is to say, you know, that he won't sell his vote for a pension: nor give away our poor little earnings to feed a parcel of lazy placemen and courtiers. Lord help us! And that he won't do.
Third Mob. No, no! I'll answer for him. Why I have heel-pieced his shoes for him when he was no bigger than a quart-pot.
First Mob. But what pleased me most of all was, when he waved his hand in this fashion, and said, "Gentlemen, It has always been the pride and boasting——
Second Mob. Pride and boast.
First Mob. No, indeed; I say pride and boasting, Thomas Truepenny; have not I a pair of ears in my head as well as you?
Second Mob. Well, well, boasting be it then!
First Mob. Yes, "boasting of this honourable borough to support its own dignity and independency against all corruptful encroachments." And then he went on to tell us, you know, all about the glory and braveness of our ancestors—O! let him alone for a speech! I'll warrant ye, when he stands ​up among the great men in that there house of parliament, he'll set his words together in as good a fashion as the best of them.
Second Mob. Yes, to be sure, if he does it in the fashion that you have been a-shewing us.
Second Woman. O la! there he comes, and the pretty chair and all the pretty ribbons flying about! Do come and let us run after him. (Enter a great crowd, and Baltimore carried in a chair ornamented with boughs and ribbons, &c. on the back ground, and crossing over the bottom of the stage exeunt with acclamations: the first crowd joining them.)
SCENE IV. An open space in a forest surrounded with thickets and fern, &c. Enter Baltimore and Servet, looking out several ways as they enter.
Serv. Now I do see them a-coming!
Balt. You have discovered them half-a-dozen of times already since we entered the forest: Are they at hand?
Serv. (still looking out thro' some bushes.) They an't far off, but I don't know how it is they keep always a-moving and always a-moving, and yet they never come nearer.
Balt. He stops to take heart perhaps. (smiling with malicious satisfaction.)
Serv. Yes, poor man, ha, ha, ha! his mind is disturb'd enough, no doubt. But you. Sir, are so composed! You have the true strong nerves of a ​gentleman. Good blood always shews itself upon these occasions. (looking out again.) Yonder now, I could tell you, even at this distance, by that very manner of waving his pocket handkerchief that he is in a devilish quandary.
Balt. Indeed! dost thou already discover in him the disturbed gait of a frightened man? This is excellent!—Let me look! let me look! (looking thro' the hushes with great satisfaction and eagerness.) Where, Servet?
Serv. Look just between the birch-tree and the little gate.
Balt. (peevishly.) Pooh, nonsense! It is a colt feeding amongst the bushes, and lashing off the flies with his tail.
(As they are looking, enter Freeman and Jenkison behind them.)
Free. Good morning, gentlemen: I hope we have not kept you waiting.
Balt. I am here, Sir, at your request, to give you the satisfaction you require, and I have waited your time without impatience.
Free. Ah, Mr. Baltimore! it is a cruel necessity that has compell'd me to require such a meeting as this from a man to whom I owe my life. But life, with contempt and degradation in the eye of the world annex'd to it, is no benefit: you have cruelly compell'd me—
Balt. Make no apology. Sir, for the invitation you have given me to this place: it is the only one in my life that I have received from you with pleasure, and obey'd with alacrity.
​ Free. You will regret, perhaps, when it is too.late, that some explanation, on your part, did not prevent——
Jenk. Yes, Sir, some little explanation of your words. The most honourable gentleman is always free to confess that words are not always intended to convey the meaning they may obviously seem to express.
Balt. (contemptuously.) I make no doubt, Sir, that you can find a great many different meanings to the same words. A lie may be easily turn'd into a slight mistake, or a villain into a gentleman of deep and ingenious resource, in your polite dictionary: but I am a plain unpolish'd man, Mr. Jenkison, and I have but one sense in which I offer what I have said by the mouth of my friend here (pointing to Serv.) to Mr. Freeman, and to the world, unretracted and unexplain’d. (aside to Serv.) Does he not look pale?
Serv. O, very pale.
Free. Then, Mr. Baltimore, you compel a man of peace to be what he abhors.
Balt. I am sorry, Sir, this business is so disagreeable to you: the sooner we dispatch it, in that case, the better. Take your ground. (aside to Serv.) Does he not look very pale?
Serv. (aside.) O, as white as a corpse.
Free. I believe you are right (to Serv. and Jenk.) Mark out the distance, gentlemen: you know what is generally done upon these occasions, I am altogether ignorant. You seem to be ready, Mr. Baltimore, and so am I.
​ Serv. (aside to Balt.) He would bully it out now, but he is in a great quandary for all that.
Bal. (aside to Serv. angrily.) No, hang him he is as firm as a rock! (aloud to Free.) I am perfectly ready also, Sir. Now take your fire.
Free. No; I cannot call you out, and take the first fire myself: this does not appear to me reasonable.
Balt. You are the insulted man.
Free. Yes but I am the challenger, and must insist on first receiving your's.
(They take their ground, and Balt. is about to fire when Truebridge and Charles Baltimore break in upon them thro' the bushes.)
True. (seizing Baltimore's arm.) Hold your rash hand, madman, and make not yourself accursed!
Balt. What do you mean, Truebridge?
True. (pointing to Free.) That there stands before you the unknown friend——
Free. (to True, eagerly.) Hold, hold! remember your promise: I have bound you to it.
True. But you release me from that promise by effecting this meeting unknown to me, when I had every claim upon your confidence. I will not hold my tongue.
Balt. For God's sake, then, tell the worst thou hast got to say, for I am distracted!
True. There stands before you, then, that unknown friend; the great uncle of your wife, as I suffered you to suspect, who has paid all your debts, open'd your prison doors, and even kept ​back his own friends from the poll to make you the member for Westown. (Balt. staggers back some paces, and the pistol falls from his hand.)
Char. (capering with joy.) O, brave and noble! this makes a man's heart jump to his mouth! Come here, Mr. Spitfire, (taking up the pistol.) we shall have no more occasion for you.
Balt. (giving Charles an angry push as he stoops down close by him to lift the pistol.) Get away, damn'd fool! Does this make you happy?
True. Fie, Baltimore! It is not manly in thee to be thus overcome.
Balt. If thou had'st lodged a bullet in my brain I had thank'd thee for it.
True. And is there nothing, then, within your breast that is generously called forth to meet the noble gratitude of a liberal mind? A mind which has strove to acquit itself of the obligation that it owes to you, and to make you ample reparation for an injury which you have suffered on his account, tho' entirely unknown to him. There is nothing in your breast that comes forth to meet such sentiments as these. Injuries and oppression are pleasing to your mind; generosity and gratitude oppress it. Are these the feelings of a brave man? Come, come! (taking his arm gently.)
Balt. Hold, away! I am fool'd, and depress'd, and degraded! (turns away from him abruptly.)
True. Well, then, battle out with your own proud spirit the best way you can. Freeman, I must agree to it, is a magnificent, boasting, ​ostentatious fellow; and devil take me if I could bear to have any reciprocity in good offices with him myself!
Balt. By the Lord! Truebridge, I'll run you thro' the body if you say that again.
True. Ha! come nearer to me then. I shall now tell Freeman of an obligation he owes to you, Baltimore, and we shall see if he bears it more graciously.
Free. I owe my life to his courage.
True. Yes, but it is not that. Come nearer me, Baltimore. (to Free.) You were anxious, I believe, to erect a monument to the memory of your father.
Free. Yes, Sir; and Mr. Jenkison has written for me to have it accomplish'd.
True. And also, at the same time, to have a certificate of your baptism?
Free. Yes. Sir, some family business required it; but I have yet received no answer.
True. No; the clergyman to whom you wrote is my particular friend; he has made the enquiries you desired; and the result is of such a nature that he has thought it necessary to be the bearer of it himself.
Free. What may it be?
True. He is at my house, and will inform you of every thing minutely; but, just at this moment, I can't help telling you myself, that to erect a monument to the memory of your father is unnecessary, ​as Mr. Baltimore has already piously saved you that trouble.
Free. What do you mean by that? I am a man of peace, but I will tear the heart out of any one who dares to insult my father's memory.
True. He has done it in sober piety.
Free. What! erected a monument for my father in the parish church of Southerndown?
True. No, in the parish church of Westown,
Free. My father is not buried there.
True. Ay, but he is, indeed. One church, one grave, one coffin contains both your father and his.
Free. O, God! what is this? (Balt. starts and puts his hands before his eyes.)
Char. I would give a thousand pounds that this were true.
True. (to Char.) Thou hast lost thy money then. But prithee be quiet, Charles! (Jenkison and Servet look ruefully upon one another.)
Free. (after a pause.) Was not my mother the wife of Freeman?
True. Yes; and, I believe, his faithful wife; but she was your mother first.
Free. She was seduced and betray'd?
True. We will not, if you please, enter into that part of the story at present. My account says, that she married, after bringing you into the world, a poor but honest man: that the late Mrs. Baltimore discovered her some years afterwards, sympathised with her misfortune, and from her own pin-money, for the family affairs were even then very much ​involved, paid her a yearly sum for the support and education of her son, which laid the foundation of his future wealth and prosperity.
Balt. (stepping forward with emotion.) Did my mother do this?
True. Yes, Baltimore, she did: till Mrs. Freeman, inform'd of the state of your father's affairs, with an industry that defied all pain and weariness, toil'd night and day to support the aspiring views of her son, independent of a bounty which she would no longer receive, tho' it was often and warmly press'd upon her.
Free. (with emotion.) And did my mother do that?
True. She did, indeed.
Free. Then God bless her! I do not blush to call myself her son.
True. (stretching out his hands to Balt. and Free.) Now, don't think that I am going to whine to you about natural affection, and fraternal love, and such weaknesses. I know that you have lived in the constant practice of all manner of opposition and provocation towards one another for some time past: you have exercised your tempers thereby, and have acquired habits that are now, perhaps, necessary for you. Far be it from me to break in upon habits and gratifications! Only, as you are both the sons of one father, who now lies quietly in his grave, and of the good women, for I call them both good, who bore no enmity to one another, tho' placed in a situation very favourable for its growth, ​do for the love of decency take one another by the hand, and live peaceably and respectably together! (taking each of them by the hand.)
Balt. (shaking off True.) Get away, Truebridge, and leave us to ourselves.
(True. retires to the bottom of the stage, and makes signs for Jenk. Serv. and Char. to do so too: they all retire.)
(Balt. and Free, stand looking at one another for some time without speaking. Balt. then drawing nearer to Free, clears his voice, and puts on the action of one who is going to speak emphatically; but his energy is suddenly dropt, and he turns away without speaking. He draws near him a second time, clears his voice again and speaks in broken accents.)
Balt. I have been to you, Mr. Freeman, most unreasonable and unjust. I have—I have—my behaviour has been stern and ungracious—But—but my heart—O! it has offended beyond—beyond even the forgiveness of a—of a——
Free. (eagerly.) Of a what, Mr. Baltimore?
Balt. Of a brother.
Free. God bless you for that word! Are you the first to pronounce it? Yes, I will be a brother, and a father, and a friend, and an every thing to you, as long as there is breath in my body. And tho' we do not embrace as brothers——
Balt. (rushing into his arms.) Ah! but we do! we do! most heartily! But I have somethuig to say. ​Let me lean against this tree for a little. (leans his back against a tree.)
Free. What would you say?
Balt. (in a broken voice.) I am—I am where I ought not to be. Your generosity imposed upon you—the borough of Westown is vacant.
Free. No; it is filled with the man for whom I will henceforth canvass thro' thick and thin every shire, town, and village in the kingdom, if need be: the borough of Westown is not vacant.
Balt. (endeavouring to open his waistcoat and collar.) My buttons are tight over my breast: I cant't get this thing from my throat. (Free. attempts to assist him.)
True. (running forward from the bottom of the stage.) Let me assist you, Baltimore.
Balt. No, no, hold away: he will do it for me. I feel the touch of a brother's hand near my breast, and it does me good.
True. (exulting.) Ha! is it thus with you? Then we have triumphed! conquest and victory!
Char. (tossing up his hat in the air.) Conquest and triumph and victory! O it is all right now!
True. Yes, Charles, thou may'st now be as boisterous as thou wilt.
Jenk. (aside to Serv.) We have made but a bad business of it here.
Ser. (aside to Jenk.) It was all your fault, (they quarrel in a corner, whilst Free. and True. are occupied with Balt.; and Charles runs exultingly about, tossing his hat in the air.)
(Enter nearly at the same time, by opposite sides, Mrs. Baltimore and Mrs. Freeman with Charlotte.
Mrs. B. (alarmed.) O, you are wounded, Baltimore.
True. No, no! there are no wounds here: we are victorious.
Mrs. B. Over whom?
True. Over a whole legion of devils! or, at least, over one great black one, who was as strong and as stubborn as a whole legion.
Mrs. B. (joyfully.) Ha! and is he overcome at last? Let me rejoice with you, my Baltimore! We have found our lost happiness again.
Balt. We have found something more, my dear Isabella: we have found a brother. (presenting Free. to Mrs. B.)
Mrs. B. Yes, I knew you would find in this worthy man a friend and a brother.
Balt. Nay, nay! you don't catch my meaning: he is the son of my father.
Mrs. Free. What does he say?
Char. The son of his father! My ears are ringing.
Mrs. B. (after a pause of surprize.) In sober earnest truth? (clasping her hands together.) O thank heaven for it! (holding out her hand to Free.) My friend and my brother.
Balt. (to Free.) Yes, she has always been your friend.
​ Free. (kissing her hand with emotion.) I know she has, and I have not been ungrateful. (presenting Mrs. Free, to Mrs. B. and Balt.) And here is one who has not been so much your friend as she will be. Her too warm interest in a husband's success misled her into an error which she sincerely repents.
Mrs. Free. (affectedly.) Mrs. Baltimore has too much sensibility herself not to pardon the errors it occasions in others.
Mrs. B. (taking her hand.) Be assured, my dear madam, I can remember nothing with resentment that is connected with our present happiness.
Serv. (aside to Jenk.) And Mrs. Freeman is shaking hands with them too! O! there will be a stagnation to all activity! there will not be a law-suit in the parish for a century to come!
(Jenk. and Ser. retire to the bottom of the stage quarrelling.)
Mrs. B. (looking round.) But there is something wanting for me still: My dear Charlotte—
Charl. (coming forward and jumping into Mrs. B's arms.) Yes, I was just waiting for this. O! I shall love you, and live with you, and hang about you continually! My sister, my aunty, my cousin! how many names may I call you?
Mrs. B. As many as you please. But there is another name that you must learn to say: (leading her up to Balt.) do you think you can look gravely ​in this gentleman's face and call him uncle? Nay, don't be frightened at him. (to Balt.) Poor girl, she has stood in awe of you intolerably.
Balt. (embracing her) She shall stand in awe of me no more; and, if ever I look sternly upon her again, I will cheerfully submit to whatever correction she may think proper to inflict upon me. (smiling significantly.)
Char. (holding out his hand to Charlotte.) And is there no such thing as cousins to be made out of all this store of relationship.
Charl. O yes! there is a lazy, idle, good-for-nothing thing called a cousin, that we must all have some little kindness for, as in duty bound, notwithstanding.
Free. Don't mind her, my friend Charles: you shall be lazy and idle no longer. I'll find employment for you: I'll rouse you up and make a man of you. There is not a peer of the realm has it in his power to do more for his relations than I have. And by heaven I will do it too.
True. (laying his hand on Freeman's shoulder.) Gently now, my good Sir! we know all that perfectly well.
Balt. (aside to True.) O, let him boast now, he is entitled to it.
Free. (aside to Balt, giving a nod of satisfaction) Ay, all is well, I see. (aloud) Now, my happy friends, if I have been of any use amongst you, shew me your gratitude by spending the rest of the ​day at my house, with my good friend the Vicar of Blackmorton; who has many things to tell you.
Mrs. Free. (aside to True.) As I am the elder brother's wife, the foolish ceremony of my talking precedence of Mrs. Baltimore will be settled accordingly; and I'm sure it will distress me extremely.
True. (aside to her.) Don't distress yourself, Madam; there is a bar to that, which you shall have the satisfaction of being acquainted with presently. Pray don't let your amiable delicacy distress you, (aloud.) Now let us leave this happy nook. But I am resolved to have a little bower erected in this very spot, where we will all sometimes retire, whenever we find any bad dispositions stirring within us, with that book in our hands, which says, "If thy brother offend thee seven times in a day"—No, no, no! I must not repeat sacred words with an unlicensed tongue: but I will bless God in silence for restoring a rational creature to the kindly feelings of humanity.(Exeunt.
THE END.