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FINAL SCRIPT<br />
late Mr. Darcy's steward. Let me recommend you, however, as a friend, not to give implicit<br />
confidence to all his assertions, for as to Mr. Darcy's using him ill, it is perfectly false, for, on the<br />
contrary, he has always been remarkably kind to him, though George Wickham has treated Mr.<br />
Darcy in a most infamous manner. I do not know the particulars, but I know very well that Mr.<br />
Darcy is not in the least to blame, that he cannot bear to hear George Wickham mentioned, and<br />
that though my brother thought that he could not well avoid including him in his invitation to<br />
the officers, he was excessively glad to find that he had taken himself out of the way. His coming<br />
into the country at all is a most insolent thing, indeed, and I wonder how he could presume to do<br />
it. I pity you, Miss Eliza, for this discovery of your favorite's guilt; but really, considering his<br />
descent, one could not expect much better.<br />
ELIZABETH<br />
His guilt and his descent appear by your account to be the same. I have heard you accuse him of<br />
nothing worse than of being the son of Mr. Darcy's steward, and of that he informed me himself.<br />
CAROLINE<br />
I beg your pardon. Excuse my interference—it was kindly meant. (They bow to each other.)<br />
MARY<br />
I will take this opportunity, while the musicians are taking refreshment, to sing a song for the<br />
assembly. I will sing The Last Rose of Summer by Thomas Moore.<br />
(Mary sings.)<br />
'Tis the last rose of summer<br />
Left blooming alone;<br />
All her lovely companions<br />
Are faded and gone;<br />
No flower of her kindred,<br />
No rosebud is nigh,<br />
To reflect back her blushes,<br />
To give sigh for sigh.<br />
I'll not leave thee, thou lone one!<br />
To pine on the stem;<br />
Since the lovely are sleeping,<br />
Go, sleep thou with them.<br />
Thus kindly I scatter,<br />
Thy leaves o'er the bed,<br />
Where thy mates of the garden<br />
Lie scentless and dead.<br />
So soon may I follow,<br />
When friendships decay,<br />
From Love's shining circle<br />
The gems drop away.<br />
When true hearts lie withered<br />
And fond ones are flown,<br />
Oh! who would inhabit,<br />
This bleak world alone?<br />
I will next sing The Minstrel Boy by Thomas Moore<br />
MR. BENNET<br />
That will do extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough. Let the other young<br />
ladies have time to exhibit.<br />
MR. COLLINS<br />
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