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SCENE III.-The outside of Tropic's house, with a view of a sugar plantation.-Some slaves appear to have just left work.-Large bell rings.


Ala. (R.) At length we are arrived at my master Tropic's plantation; and see, my young friends, there he' is at a distance. Now, kind Virginia, plead for me.

Vir. I will, if-if-I can find spirits to perform the task; but my courage fails me just when I'most want it. Ala. Oh! do not forsake me in this extremity. Retire a moment and collect yourself.

[They retire, L.-Paul likewise retires and converses with some of the Slaves.

Enter TROPIC and DIEGO, R.

Die. There, sir, I told you so; now your own eyes will convince you. There is Alambra; who has the assurance to come into your presence with some vagabond companions.

Tro. Bring him hither. [Diego going to seize Alambra. Ala. Oh! spare me.

[Paul rushes forward and draws his sword to defend Alambra against Diego, who desists.

Tro. Bold youth, what means this presumption?

AIR-PAUL, who crosses to Tropic.

Boldly I come, to plead the cause

Of nature and of truth;

Oh! let your heart own nature's laws :
Redress this injur'd youth.

Die. [Comes down, R.] Don't credit what they say. Don't listen to that girl; she'll make you believe anything she pleases.

Tro. I am resolute.

Die. I wish you would turn your eyes this way. You should not trust yourself even to look upon Virginia. Tro. Is this Virginia?

[Alambra puts Virginia over to Tropic.


Ah! could my falt'ring tongue impart
The tale of woe that pains my heart,
Then in vain I should not crave

Your pity for a wretched slave.

The injur'd ne'er in vain address'd,
In plaints of woe, a Briton's breast:
Compassion ever marks the brave:
Oh! pity, then, your wretched slave.
Ah! could, &c.

[During the air, Tropic converses with Paul-Diego watches his countenance anxiously-Tropic looks fiercely at Diego-when Virginia has finished her song, she goes to Alambra, who is kneeling, and takes him by the hand.

Tro. Alambra, you have been wrong'd; but you shall have ample justice. Diego!

Paul. [To Tropic.] Mark his countenance: how timid is guilt! [Diego sneaks off, L.

Tro. [Crosses between them.] The knave shall answer me this. What do I owe to you, children of truth? Simple nature spoke forcibly to your hearts. Distress of a fellow-creature was a claim too powerful to be resisted. Regardless of every personal danger, you boldly preferred a complaint against a wretch, at whose power of revenge you might have trembled. And I-I who had been made an innocent accomplice of this man's guilt, might have still wandered in the paths of oppression and injustice, had I not been rescued by the courageous virtue of these poor children.

[Alambra, in action, calls on the rest of the slaves.-They enter, R. and L.


Oh! bless'd for ever be this day,
When charity asserts her sway:
When beauty, generous as fair,

Deems not the slave beneath her care;
And bids the beams of mercy smile

Upon the suffering sons of toil.

[The Slaves, who, from the moment Alambra was pardoned, have testified their joy and gratitude, have now prepared a chair composed of bamboos and branches of trees, in which they seat Virginia, and carry her on their shoulders.-Exeunt in procession, L.



SCENE I.-A Room in Virginia's Cottage.


Ala, Paul and Virginia bade me say, that in a few. hours you will see them. My master, the English planter, overwhelms them with kindness, and insists upon escorting them part of the way home.

[Guns heard, L. Dom. Hark! what noise is that? [Firing of guns heard, L. He goes out and returns.] A ship is arrived, and from Spain. [Looking out.] A sailor comes on shore with We may have some news.


Enter a Sailor, with letters, L.

Welcome on shore, my lad; any letter for Virginia?
Sai. Virginia? No.

Dom. Well, they are not much to be expected. As for Paul, I imagine there can be none for him.

Sai. No.

Dom. He is as much unknown in Europe as I am.
Sai. But here's a letter for one Dom-Domi-

Dom. For whom?

Ala. Dominique?

Sai. Ay, Dominique. Perhaps you are the man. Dom. I am the mam. [Takes the letter-Exit Sailor, L.] But, a letter for me! Who would write to me? I am unknown in Europe. I know nobody: nobody knows me. [Reads the superscription.] Addressed to the faithful Dominique. [Opens the letter.] From Donna Leonora de Guzman, Virginia's aunt. [Reads.] " Faithful Dominique, your character for honesty and fidelity are not unknown to Tell Virginia that I now acknowledge her as my niece; that the errors of her family are forgotten, and that she is sole heiress of my wealth."


Ala. Virginia rich! How many people she will make happy.

Dom. Do I dream? Do I really read this under the hand of Donna Leonora ?

Ala. Oh don't talk, but read the letter.

Dom. Ay, here is a postscript, sure enough. [Reads.] "Prepare Virginia to receive this sudden good news, and to receive Don Antonio de Guardes, my particular friend,

He will deliver my

who comes a passenger in this ship.

letters to my niece, and explain the whole of my favourable intentions towards her."

Ala. Oh, joy! Oh, delight! How happy will Paul and Virginia be.

Dom. See, they are bringing presents for her. I suppose the Don will be here himself soon.

Enter four Sailors, L., bearing boxes and presents for Virginia-they cross, and exeunt R.

Ala. I'll run back to Virginia immediately, and tell her

Dom. What will you tell her?

Ala. Why, that there is fine news arrived; and a fine gentleman is arrived; and has brought fine presents; and

Dom. Take care you don't blunder in the business. In the first place, you give Virginia this letter-now mind my instructions, and tell her



Don Antonio's come,


Just arriv'd from Spain;

And soon, in a devil of a hurry, it should seem,

Will he go home again.

What pleasure, what delight,

To see this charming sight!

Fal, lal, de ral!

Such gold and jewels bright!

Dom. Why, the plague, won't you learn your lesson? Now attend to what I say








All the rest leave me to guess on;

Give me the letter, pray.

Listen to me, pray

No more you need to say.

Here but what I say

Adieu I must away.

Come, good Dominique,

I'll now Virginia seek,

The letter give, and your commands I will receive;

I'm all attention-speak.

I know my time to talk,

That's over-you may walk;

And so, with your fal, de ral!

You now may go your way.

Ala. Will you, then, withhold the letter?

Come, now-good, now-don't refuse. Dom. On second thoughts, I think I'd better Tell her myself the news.

[blocks in formation]


Dom. This must be Don Antonio.

Ant. Sebastian, send my message to the governor. must pay my respects to him immediately, or not at all. I shall be on board to-morrow morning.

Dom. [Aside.] On board to-morrow morning!

Ant. On my arrival here to-day, I find a ship bound for Spain to-morrow; and, as I hate to lose time, I shall take the opportunity of returning. Virginia can have no objection. She will be overjoyed at going to Spain? Dom. My lord, did I hear you aright? Virginia to go to Spain?

Ant. Yes, to be sure. Virginia returns to Spain with me, who am her lover to-day, and her husband to-morrow, as her aunt's letter will explain to her.

Dom. Don Antonio, what you propose is impossible. Ant. Ay, ay! why so?

Dom. Virginia's affections are engaged to another. Ant. Another! Ha, ha, ha! You are a person of interest in this family, and I must purchase your friendship.

Dom. It is not to be bought in such a cause as your's. Ant. Insolent slave!

Dom. You will permit me to withdraw?

Ant. No.

Dom. You insult an inferior. I am sorry you do not remember what is due to your station. Were I equally forgetful of mine,

Ant. And this impertinence you mistake for independence of mind?

Dom. I hope I do not mistake it. He who is idle or dissipated must ever be dependent; for his folly renders him the slave of others. Independence is not confined


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