His family have scourged, hunted and driven
From shed and shelter in their native land.
We needs must thank that most paternal care,
That, when the expos'd infant climbs to manhood
Comes for the first time, then, to claim his service.
Walf. You broach a startling topic—But the day wears—
Fare thee well Ravensworth.
Rave. Farewell, farewell. (Exit Walford, l. h.)
Timid, weak minded man.
Enter Mary, from House, l. h.
Come hither, daughter
Mary. Father! (running to him.)
Rave. What mean these tears?
Mary. I cannot check them.
Rave. They do displease me, tears can only flow
From frailty or from folly, dry them straight,
And listen to me. I have heard, the son
Of this strange woman is returning home,
And will again pollute our neighbourhood;
Remember my command, and shun his presence
As you would shun the adder. If report
Err not, his course of boyhood has been run
Without one gleam of virtue to redeem
The darkness of his vices.
Mary. I'll obey—
To the utmost of my power.—But, my dear father,
May not report err sometimes? You were wont
To instruct me never to withhold the truth;
And fearlessly to speak in their defence,
Whom I could vindicate from calumny;
That to protect the innocent, the absent—
Rave. How's this! the innocent—and calumny?
And whence do you presume to throw discredit
On general report—What can you know?
Mary. Not much perhaps, of late: while I remain'd
At his mother's—he was in his boyhood then;
B
