The Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic Censor

Lord A. I’ll hear no more. Summon the officers I say. I am resolved.

Sir R. I too am at last resolved! at length the arm is raised that, in descending must crush you.

Lord A. I despise your united threats! am I to be the sport of insolence and fraud? What am I, sir, that thus you dare insult me! Who am I?

Sir R. No longer the man you seem to be! hear me! before grief and shame shall burst my heart, hear me proclaim my guilt! When the late lord Austencourt dying bequeathed his infant son to my charge, my own child was of the same age! prompted by the demons of ambition, and blinded to guilt by affection for my own offspring —I changed the children.

Charles. Merciful Heaven!

Sir R. (to lord A.) Hence it follows that you, unnatural monster, are my son!

Sir W. Ods life! Hey! then there is something in the world to astonish me, besides the reformation of my lady Worret.

Lord A. Shallow artifice! Think you I am weak enough to credit this preposterous fiction, or do you suppose the law will listen to it?

Falk. Ay, sir; the law will listen to it, shall listen to it. I, sir, can prove the fact, beyond even the hesitation of incredulity!

Lord A. You!

Falk. I. You have seen me hitherto a poor man and oppressed me; you see me now rich and powerful, and well prepared to punish your villany; and thus, in every instance, may oppression recoil on the oppressor.

Lord A. Then I am indeed undone!

O’Ded. Shall I call the officers now, my lord? Mr. Austencourt, I should say; I ask pardon for the blunder: and now, ladies and gentlemen, be pleased to hear me speak. This extraordinary discovery is just exactly what I did not expect. It is true I had a bit of a discovery of my own to make: for I find that the habits of my profession though they haven’t led me to commit acts of knavery, have too often induced me to wink at them. Therefore as his quandam lordship has now certainly lost Miss Helen, I hope he’ll have no objection to do justice in another quarter. [Exit.

Sir R. Oh, Charles! my much injured nephew! how shall I ever dare to look upon you more?

Charles. Nay, nay, sir, I am too brimful of joy at my opening prospects here (taking Helen’s hand) to cherish any other feeling than forgiveness and good humour. Here is my hand, sir, and with it I pledge myself to oblivion of all the past, except the acts of kindness I have received from you.

Sir W. That’s a noble generous young dog – My lady Worret, I wonder whether he’ll offer to marry Helen now?

Lady W. Of course, after what has passed, you’ll think it decent to refuse for a short time: but you are the best judge, sir Willoughby, and your will shall in future be mine —

Sir W. Shall it – that’s kind – then I will refuse him to please you: for when you’re so reasonable, how can I do otherwise than oblige you.

Lady W. (aside.) Leave me alone to manage him still.

Enter O’Dedimus, introducing Fanny

Lord A. (seeing Fanny.) Ah, traitor!

O’Ded. Traitor back again into your teeth, my master! and since you’ve neither pity for the poor innocent, nor compassion for the little blunt gentleman her father, ’tis time to spake out and to tell you that instead of a sham priest and a sham license for your deceitful marriage as you bid me, I have sarved the cause of innocence and my own soul, by procuring a real priest and a real license, and by St. Patrick you are as much one as any two people in England, Ireland, or Scotland!

Fanny. Merciful powers! there is still justice for the unfortunate!

Lord A. (after a conflict of passion.) And is this really so?

O’Ded. You’re man and wife, sure enough. We’ve decent proof of this, too, sir.

Lord A. You no doubt expect this intelligence will exasperate me. ’Tis the reverse. By heaven it lifts a load of guilty wretchedness from my heart.

Fanny. Oh, my lord! my husband!

Falk. Can this be genuine? Sudden reformation is ever doubtful.

Lord A. It is real! my errors have been the fruits of an unbridled education. Ambition dazzled me, and wealth was my idol. I have acted like a villain, and as my conduct has deserved no forgiveness, so will my degradation be seen without compassion; but this weight of guilt removed, I will seek happiness and virtue in the arms of my much-injured Fanny.

Fanny. Silent joy is the most heartfelt. I cannot speak my happiness! My father!

Falk. This is beyond my hopes; but adversity is a salutary monitor.

Sir R. Still, Charles, to you I am indebted beyond the power of restitution.

Char. My dear father – no – no dear uncle, I mean, here is the reward I look for.

Helen. Ah, Charles – my lord, I mean, I beg pardon – to be sure papa, ay, and mamma-in-law too, will now no longer withhold their consent.

Sir W. Who, me? Not for the world – hey! mercy on us! I forgot your ladyship (aside) do you wish me to decline the honor?

Lady W. (aside.) Why no, as matters have turned out.

Char. Then Fortune has indeed smiled on me today!

Falk. The cloud of sorrow is passed, and may the sun of joy that now illumines my face, diffuse its cheering rays on all around us.

O’Ded. And sir Willoughby and her ladyship will smile most of us all; for every body knows they’re the happiest man and wife among us.

Helen.

And while amongst ourselves we anxious trace
The doubtful smile of joy in every face,
There is a smile, which doubt and danger ends —
The smile of approbation from our friends.

THE END

notes

1

Had Mr. Cooper entered on the profession in the days of Garrick, we are persuaded he would, with the advantage of that great man as a model, and the scientific Macklin as an instructor, have been one of the first actors that ever existed.

2

Perhaps!!! Mr. Wood we dare say has too much good sense to relish this perhaps, it rather savours of irony.

3