Page:The Mysterious Mother - Walpole (1781).djvu/37

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A TRAGEDY.
29
MARTIN.
Will this convince thee! Where's the gossip's dream?
The village-fable now? Hear heav'n's own voice
Condemn impiety!

FLORIAN.
Condemn imposture! Hear heav'n's own voice
Condemn imposture!

EDMUND.
Condemn imposture!Here end your dispute.
The storm comes on.

MARTIN.
The storm comes on.Yes, you do well to check
Your comrade's profanation, left swift justice
O'ertake his guilt, and stamp his doom in thunder.

FLORIAN.
Father, art thou so read in languages
Thou canst interpret th' inarticulate
And quarreling elements? What says the storm?
Pronounces it for thee or me? Do none
Dispute within the compass of its bolt
But we? Is the fame loud-voic'd oracle
Definitive for fifty various brawls?
Or but a shock of clouds to all but us?
"What if two drunkards at this instant hour
"Contend for preference of taste, one ranking
"The vines of Burgundy before the juice
"That dances in a foam of brilliant bubbles
"From Champagne's berries, think'st thou thunder speaks
"In favour of the white or ruby grape?"

MARTIN.
What mockery! I resign thee to thy fate— [Going.


[The

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