



Produced by Charles Bowen, from scans provided by Google Books




Source: books.google.com

http://books.google.com/books?pg=PP8&dq=the+nephews&id=tSgHAAAAQAAJ#v=o
nepage&q=&f=false





                                  THE

                                NEPHEWS:

                                A PLAY,

                             IN FIVE ACTS.


                           *   *   *   *   *


                  FREELY TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF

                       _WILLIAM AUGUSTUS IFFLAND,_

                                   BY

                       HANNIBAL EVANS LLOYD, ESQ.


                           *   *   *   *   *


                                LONDON:

               PRINTED BY W. AND C. SPILSBURY, SNOWHILL;

          AND SOLD BY G. G. AND J. ROBINSON, PATERNOSTER-ROW;
                 CADELL AND DAVIES, STRAND; J. DEBRETT,
                PICCADILLY; AND J. BELL, OXFORD-STREET.

                              M.DCC.XCIX.






                            DRAMATIS PERSONAE

CHANCELLOR FLEFFEL.

COUNSELLOR FLEFFEL, his Son.

MR. DRAVE, a Merchant, Guardian to the two BROOKS.

LEWIS BROOK,     \
                  >  Brothers
PHILIP BROOK,    /

MR. ROSE, a Banker.

Clerk to the Chancellor.

Old Man.

FREDERICK DRAVE's Servant.

MRS. DRAVE.

AUGUSTA.






                              THE NEPHEWS.



                                _ACT I._


                                SCENE I.

                       At the Chancellor's House.

             COUNSELLOR FLEFFEL, LEWIS BROOK, at Breakfast.

                            Enter a Servant.

                      Counsellor (to the Servant).

Take away. But, no--let it stand; my father may chuse some: is he
returned?

_Servant._ I'll enquire, Sir. [Exit Servant.

_Counsellor_ [rising and viewing himself]. We've made a long breakfast.

_Lewis._ But _you_ have eaten nothing.

_Counsellor._ Why, my dear friend, I'm quite uneasy about my growing so
fat.

_Lewis_ [ironically]. Oh, certainly; All the affecting graces of a
pining love-sick swain will be destroyed: you'll lose all your credit
with the ladies.--Apropos of ladies, how do you stand with Miss Drave?

_Counsellor._ Ill enough. Your worthy guardian and the whole family are
so intolerably stiff.

_Lewis._ Don't say I told you; but you certainly are the happy man.

_Counsellor._ I?--No indeed; it is rather you.

_Lewis._ You have nothing to fear from me. You know my passion for your
sister. But for that grave, melancholy gentleman, my dear brother, I'd
have you beware of him.

_Counsellor_ [laughs] Excellent! As if such a sour misanthrope could
please any one, particularly a young girl.

_Lewis._ Tastes are different; and besides, my serious guardian is his
friend.

_Counsellor._ So much the worse for _you_.

_Lewis._ No matter.

_Counsellor._ How! Believe me, this excellent brother of yours is
continually defaming you.

_Lewis._ I know it very well.

_Counsellor._ And he is now striving----

_Lewis._ I know what you would say; to enforce the clause of my
father's will.

_Counsellor._ Tell me, how is this clause worded?

_Lewis._ If one of his sons should turn out a prodigal, the other is
declared his tutor.

_Counsellor._ It is a shocking clause.

_Lewis._ It is indeed. Yet, should they attempt it--by heavens!--But to
the purpose--your father is still willing to give me your sister?

_Counsellor._ Certainly.

_Lewis._ But take care then I have some of the ready with her.

_Counsellor._ Oh, you may depend upon that.

_Lewis._ Not any of your father's own; only my share of the fortune of
old Crack-brains.

_Counsellor._ Old Crack-brains! What do you mean?

_Lewis._ As if you did not know! Why my old uncle, to whom you have
prescribed a little wholesome confinement, by way of cure for his
pretended madness.

_Counsellor._ Oh! that old man! So, so.

_Lewis._ Exactly. You always seem wonderfully at a loss when that point
is touch'd.

_Counsellor._ But--I was going to observe--yes--it might be done, had
he not escaped--but now it is uncertain whether he is alive, or what is
become of him.

_Lewis._ I say he is dead.

_Counsellor._ But we have not heard.

_Lewis._ He shall be dead.

_Counsellor._ But----

_Lewis._ Why a live man is as easily declared to be dead, as a man in
his senses to be mad; and if he should make his appearance, you can
secure him again.

_Counsellor._ No! who would do that?

_Lewis._ Zounds! what a tender conscience! If my uncle could be
declared mad, by your good-nature, that you might shew your Christian
charity, in managing his estate, I am sure your noble heart would have
no scruple to advance a part of the inheritance to the lawful heir.

_Counsellor._ My dear friend, your expressions are so harsh--so----

_Lewis._ His madness was not so very clear. The old fellow was
reasonable enough at times.

_Counsellor._ Quite out of his senses, I assure you: mad as a March
hare.

_Lewis_ I don't know how--but indeed, I sometimes pity him.

_Counsellor._ It was the will of God.

_Lewis._ Oh, I have nothing to do with that: 'tis a subject too deep
for me. But beware of my brother: he suspects foul play, and has spies
drawn up every where.

                        Enter CHANCELLOR FLEFFEL.

_Counsellor._ Good morning, dear father.

_Lewis_ [bowing]. My Lord!

_Chancellor._ Good morning, my son,--your most obedient, Sir.

_Lewis._ Engaged so early?

_Chancellor._ Can I avoid it, my dear Sir?

_Lewis._ The State is much indebted to you.

_Chancellor._ Yet my zeal is frequently overlooked--no attention paid.
[To his son] No news, Samuel?

_Counsellor._ No, father.

_Chancellor._ I feel quite tired.

_Counsellor._ You have had no breakfast.

_Chancellor._ No; and the cold marble floor of the Palace has quite
chilled me. What have you here? [Seats himself at the breakfast table.]
Our most excellent Prince has been heaping new favours upon me. You
have heard, no doubt, [to Lewis] of the bustle there has been. An
underclerk of the Treasury, a man of no extraction, accused me of a
fraud, in executing the late regulations for the distribution of corn
to the poor.

_Lewis._ So I have been informed--and what is our Prince's pleasure?

_Chancellor._ As the man could bring no evidence whatever, his Serene
Highness, for the reparation of my honour, has been graciously pleased
to punish him.

_Lewis._ And in what manner?

_Chancellor._ The warrant was signed yesterday, [drinks]--To be
cashiered and banished.

_Lewis._ He is pretty well rewarded.

_Chancellor._ I have supplicated, my dear Sir, for a mitigation of the
sentence--but in vain----Samuel, cut me a wing of that fowl----I have
sent another letter, on your account, to Mr. Drave.

_Lewis._ Too kind, my Lord.

_Chancellor._ I long to see his answer. To my last he sent an absolute
refusal.

_Lewis._ Is it possible? Can he dare?

_Chancellor_ [rising]. He has not gathered roses by it, my dear
Sir--No, no, [laughs] L.4000, which I had in his hands, I withdrew
instantly.--Your good father was wrong to put such promising sons under
this man's guardianship.

_Lewis._ I agree with you; but some of his best friends advised him.

_Chancellor_ [taking snuff]. Has Drave ever given any account of his
guardianship?

_Lewis._ Not yet.

_Chancellor._ Note that, Samuel. He _shall_ give it--I have hinted it
in Court already--You must not lose your fortune, my dear Sir.

_Lewis._ I do not think there is any danger.

_Chancellor._ Well, but have you drawn up a statement of your
property, as you promised?

_Lewis_ [gives him a paper]. Here it is.

_Chancellor_ [looking over it]. So, so; a very good fortune!
[muttering] L.10,000 in the hands of Rose--Which Rose is that?

_Lewis._ John Frederick.

_Chancellor._ Samuel, give me the red ink.--[Writes.] So, so--L.10,000,
at John Frederick Rose's.

_Lewis._ May I ask why that name strikes you so much?

_Chancellor._ For important reasons.

_Lewis._ You think----

_Chancellor._ That your property is not in the best hands, my dear Sir.
Rose is rather in a ticklish situation just now.

_Lewis._ I may lose it then!

_Chancellor._ Not you exactly, but your worthy tutor might suffer.
[Looks at the back of the paper.] Aye, aye; many drawbacks too--you are
not the best manager, my good friend.

_Lewis._ I know it, my Lord.

_Chancellor._ Overcharged besides by your honest guardian now and then.
I am a plain, sincere man. Speak freely--the valuable furniture--the
plate--is there any regular inventory?

_Lewis._ No, my Lord. It was in the will.

_Chancellor._ You must apply to the Court then.

_Lewis._ Yes--But--

_Chancellor._ Only for form sake--you just sign a little paper--a mere
form, I assure you. You are too good-natured--give so easily away--must
not be.--Come, we will go to my room, and examine your affairs more
closely. [Exeunt.


                               SCENE II.

                       Apartment in Drave's House.

                 Mr. DRAVE writing.--Mrs. DRAVE enters.

_Mrs. D._ Good morning, my dear--you have not come down.

_Mr. D._ [gives her his hand, without looking up]. Good morning.

_Mrs. D._ You are busy.

_Mr. D._ I shall have done in a moment.

_Mrs. D._ I'll leave you.

_Mr. D._ [rising]. It is done now.

_Mrs. D._ You seem angry.

_Mr. D._ No wonder--that man----

_Mrs. D._ Who?

_Mr. D._ My hopeful ward Lewis