Mrs. Inchbald

“ Enter URSULA.
Ursula. So, Mrs. Flora, I give you joy of your new sweetheart—For shame, for shame, I saw what passed.
Flora. Lord bless you—it is only a woman.
Ursula. A woman!
Flora. Aye, in men's clothes, like the master, and so there could be no harm you know.
Ursula. I did not know the servant was a woman too!
Flora. Why, I am not sure of it—but I thought so when I let him kiss me, and I thought so when I promised to meet him in the grove—and I will e'en go—for I dare say 'tis only a woman. ”

“ It was now the middle of November; and yet, as Matilda passed along, never to her, did the sun shine so bright as upon this morning—never did her imagination comprehend, that the human heart could feel happiness true and genuine as hers!
On arriving at the house, there was no abatement of her felicity: all was respect and duty on the part of the domestics—all paternal care on the part of Lord Elmwood; and she would have been at that summit of her wishes which annihilates hope, but that the prospect of seeing Miss Woodley and Mr. Sandford, still kept this passion in existence. ”

“ BARON.
You don’t know yet what the quarrel is.
MR. ANHALT.
Conscience is always right—because it never speaks unless it is so.
BARON.
Ay, a man of your order can more easily attend to its whispers, than an old warrior. The sound of cannon has made him hard of hearing.—I have found my son again, Mr. Anhalt, a fine, brave young man—I mean to make him my heir—Am I in the right?
MR. ANHALT.
Perfectly.
BARON.
And his mother shall live in happiness—My estate, Weldendorf, shall be hers—I’ll give it to her, and she shall make it her residence. Don’t I do right? ”

“ One morning in winter, just as the dean, his wife, and darling child, had finished their breakfast at their house in London, a servant brought in a letter to his master, and said “the man waited for an answer.”
“Who is the man?” cried the dean, with all that terrifying dignity with which he never failed to address his inferiors, especially such as waited on his person.
The servant replied with a servility of tone equal to the haughty one of his master, “he did not know; but that the man looked like a sailor, and had a boy with him.”
“A begging letter, no doubt,” cried Lady Clementina. ”

“ Marquis. Really a man! Why?—What?—Don't I look like a man?
Countess. Yes—that you do—and a sweet pretty man—Come, come, don't be frightened—shake hands—I forgive you—forgive you all your impertinence—and, carry the jest as far as you will, I am resolved not to be angry.
Marquis. I am very much obliged to you—infinitely obliged to you—I assure you this favour—this honour.—I don't know what to say—She absolutely puts me out of countenance. (Aside.)
Countess. What confused?—Come, resume your gaiety—Come, come—
Marquis. Come, come, then. (seizing her.)
Enter DON ANTONIO.
Antonio. Hah!—What! ”

“ This was like the stroke of sudden death to Miss Milner, and clinging to life, she endeavoured to avert the blow by prayers, and by promises. Her friend loved her too sincerely to be prevailed upon.
“But in what manner can I accomplish the separation?” cried she, “for till I marry we are obliged, by my father’s request, to live in the same house.”
“Miss Milner,” answered Miss Woodley, “much as I respect the will of a dying man, I regard your and Mr. Dorriforth’s present and eternal happiness much more; and it is my resolution that you shall part. ”

“ Had these miseries, common to the unhappy prostitute, been alone the punishment of Agnes—had her crimes and sufferings ended in distress like this, her story had not perhaps been selected for a public recital; for it had been no other than the customary history of thousands of her sex. But Agnes had a destiny yet more fatal. Unhappily, she was endowed with a mind so sensibly alive to every joy, and every sorrow, to every mark of kindness, every token of severity, so liable to excess in passion, that, once perverted, there was no degree of error from which it would revolt. ”

“ BARON.
I will once more repeat to you my sentiments. It is the custom in this country for the children of nobility to marry only with their equals; but as my daughter’s content is more dear to me than an ancient custom, I would bestow you on the first man I thought calculated to make you happy: by this I do not mean to say that I should not be severely nice in the character of the man to whom I gave you; and Mr. Anhalt, from his obligations to me, and his high sense of honour, thinks too nobly—
AMELIA.
Would it not be noble to make the daughter of his benefactor happy? ”

“ But in such a case, Miss Milner’s election of a husband shall not direct mine. If she does not know how to estimate her own value, I do. Independent of her fortune, she has beauty to captivate the heart of any man; and with all her follies, she has a frankness in her manner, an unaffected wisdom in her thoughts, a vivacity in her conversation, and withal, a softness in her demeanour, that might alone engage the affections of a man of the nicest sentiments, and the strongest understanding. ”

“ Though many a year passed, and many a rough encounter was destined to the lot of the two Henrys before they saw the shores of Europe, yet to them, to live or to die together was happiness enough: even young Henry for a time asked for no greater blessing—but, the first glow of filial ardour over, he called to mind, “Rebecca lived in England;” and every exertion which love, founded on the highest reverence and esteem, could dictate, he employed to expedite a voyage, the end of which would be crowned by the sight of her. ”

“ BARON.
I know, my dear Amelia, I can repay you for the loss of Count Cassel; but what return can I make to you for the loss of half your fortune?
AMELIA.
My brother’s love will be ample recompense.
BARON.
I will reward you better. Mr. Anhalt, the battle I have just fought, I owe to myself: the victory I gained, I owe to you. A man of your principles, at once a teacher and an example of virtue, exalts his rank in life to a level with the noblest family—and I shall be proud to receive you as my son. ”

“ Sandford returned to Elmwood House, but with his spirits depressed, and his heart overcharged with sorrow. He had seen Lady Matilda, the object of his visit, but he had beheld her considerably altered in her looks and in her health; she was become very thin, and instead of the vivid bloom that used to adorn her cheeks, her whole complexion was of a deadly pale—her countenance no longer expressed hope or fear, but a fixed melancholy—she shed no tears, but was all sadness. ”

“ That, perhaps, was easy to resolve; but she had a child to leave behind! a child, from whom to part for a day was a torment. Yet, before she submitted to a situation which filled her mind with a kind of loathing horror, often she paced up and down the street in which William lived, looked wistfully at his house, and sometimes, lost to all her finer feelings of independent pride, thought of sending a short petition to him; but, at the idea of a repulse, and of that frowning brow which she knew William could dart on her petitions, she preferred death, or the most degrading life, to the trial. ”

“ AGATHA.
Yes, I am that unfortunate woman; and the man who pretends to take concern in my misfortunes is——Baron Wildenhaim——he who betrayed me, abandoned me and my child, and killed my parents.—He would now repair our sufferings with this purse of gold. [Takes out the purse.] Whatever may be your errand, Sir, whether to humble, or to protect me, it is alike indifferent. I therefore request you to take this money to him who sent it. Tell him, my honour has never been saleable. Tell him, destitute as I am, even indigence will not tempt me to accept charity from my seducer. ”

“ Lost in the maze of happiness that surrounded her, Miss Milner oftentimes asked her heart, and her heart whispered like a flatterer, “Yes;” Are not my charms even more invincible than I ever believed them to be? Dorriforth, the grave, the pious, the anchorite Dorriforth, by their force, is animated to all the ardour of the most impassioned lover—while the proud priest, the austere guardian is humbled, if I but frown, into the veriest slave of love. ”

“ Often had Agnes, by the winter’s fire, listened to tales of ghosts—of the unceasing sting of a guilty conscience; often had she shuddered at the recital of murders; often had she wept over the story of the innocent put to death, and stood aghast that the human mind could premeditate the heinous crime of assassination.
From the tenderest passion the most savage impulse may arise: in the deep recesses of fondness, sometimes is implanted the root of cruelty ”

“ But for some time before Rushbrook was called to this private audience, he had, by his unwearied attention, endeavoured to impress upon Matilda’s mind, the softest sentiments in his favour. He succeeded—but not as he wished. She loved him as her friend, her cousin, her foster-brother, but not as a lover. The idea of love never once came to her thoughts; and she would sport with Rushbrook like the most harmless child, while he, all impassioned, could with difficulty resist telling her, what she made him suffer. ”

“ BARON.
The whole castle smells of his perfumery. Go, call my daughter hither. [Exit Gentleman.] And am I after all to have an ape for a son-in-law? No, I shall not be in a hurry—I love my daughter too well. We must be better acquainted before I give her to him. I shall not sacrifice my Amelia to the will of others, as I myself was sacrificed. The poor girl might, in thoughtlessness, say yes, and afterwards be miserable. What a pity she is not a boy! The name of Wildenhaim will die with me. My fine estates, my good peasants, all will fall into the hands of strangers. ”