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THE
BRITISH DRAMA:
A COLLECTION OF THE MOST ESTEEMED
TRAGEDIES, COMEDIES, OPERAS, AND FARCES
IN THE
ENGLISH LANGITAGE.
VOLUME I.
PHILADELPHIA:
J. B. LIPPINC OTT & CO.
M. POLOCK, 406 COMMERCE ST.
1859.








IN-DEX
TO THE
FIR-S:T VOLUME.
TXRAGE.DI.ES.: -— PAGE
A New Way to Pay Old Debts,. 441
ARDEN of Feversham, w... 615 She Stoops to ~onqger~... 393
~B~arbarossa,  \. a.?';,:'. u~,. 196 The Beaux' Stratagem,.791
Cato,.         f/. -- -. 297 The Belle's Stratagem,...  532
Douglas,.t..i...: /;    & -.~- i 156 The Cjandestin Mariager ~ 73
Fatal Curiosity, /;i.~.<..tti< ~  5 The Country Girl,-... 586
George Barnwell,   A S-t-. >.  667 The Guardian,.    *. 16
Gustavus Vasa,t!.;' ~:j'g,78  The Hypperite,.... 681
Isabella,  f      k  Q3  > 1. -.  219 The Incopstant,...   170 
Jane Shore,._...: t      77 The Jealous Wife,                630
Oroonoko, W.4..............,.  567 The Man of the World,.    49
nt,  k'7at+ Q A >AA4if >NL~&*-.
Percy, /t      t   * b -/:.,  /: $  t. 517 The Rivals....... 341
The Fair Penitent,            < 116 The  SusPlousHusband.         4
The Gamester,'.a,/"     ",471 The Tonder,                26....
The Grecian Daughter,   t l W  34 Ways and Means,..        92
The Mourning Bride,4/''<:709;        o" 3f- ES..g.....t- dJ~ 4,    424 Bon Ton                 14
The Orphan,. t,'.... 424 Bon Ton,                            414
The Revenge,,- S,,,           330 Fortupe' Frolic,..           313
709 The Apprentice,'  ~..    69
Tancr d and Sigi munda,...769 The Apprentice,..                69
Venice Preservyed.            249 The Deuce is in Him,             369
CO:.MEDIES. ~'"'         The Devil to Pay,       l       108.
A Bold Stroke for a Wife,... 130 The Irish Widow,;..i.. 605:.yj c   4 Ki'   -tk'.. t., 




INDEX.
PAGE                                 PAGN
The Liarf'v.../ 756 Rosina,. 241
The Lylng Valet,&....   24 The Begg r's Opera,         ~.. 653
The Mayor,5of Garratt,          188 The Critic,.,.... 554
The MQk Doctor.. 700 The Doqtor and the, Apothecary,. 462
Three W      after Marriage,.  288 The Padlock,.         321
OPERAS, ETC.  /            TheQuae....  233
Hero and Leaydex,... 213 The Recruiting rge.. 210
~t - -*#;it-s..9                              v       t.,:.
Midas,.  148 Tom Thumb,.. 511
*iEw?.v;.1 —  0                            Lt.Rt-   // &6t044. (9 9> a~zs




FATAL CURIOSITY:
A TRAGEID Y,
IN THREE ACTS.
BY GEORGE LILLO.
REMARKS.
TIEE story of this piece is very simple and affecting, and is said to have been founded on a fact which happened
on the western coast of England. The circumstance of a son, long absent from his parents, keeping himself, on
his return to visit them, for some time unknown, is unforced; while at the same time their inducement, from the
depth of distress and penury, to perpetrate his murder, for the sake of the treasures he had shown them, is productive of some very fine scenes of intermingled horror and tenderness. Mr. Lillo rendered the distresses of common and domestic life as interesting to the audience, as those of kings and heroes; and the ruin brought on private families by an indulgence of avarice, lust, &c. as the havoc made in states and empires by ambition, cruelty,
er tyranny. His George Barnwoell, Fatal Curiosity, and.rden of Feversham, are all planned on common and
well-known stories; yet they have always drawn tears from the audience, and even the critics have laid down
their pens to take out the handkerchief.
DRAMATIS PERSONS,
DRURY-LANE.                       HAY-MARKET.
OLD WILMOT.............,.. Mr. Kemble.......................Mr. Bensley.
YOUNG WILMOT,..................Mr. Barrymore.............. Mr. Palmer.
EUSTACE,...............Mr. Truman... Mr. R. Palmer.
RANDAL........   Mr. C. Kemble..........Mr. Bannister, Ju.
AGNES........................Mrs. Siddons...................Miss Sherry.
CHARLOTTE,...................     Mrs. Powell.............         Mrs. Bulkeleq
MARIA..              Miss Leake...................Miss Hooke.
ScBEE. —Penryn, Cornwall.
ACT  I.                      Enjoys the sad prerogative above him,
3CENE L.-A Room in OLD WILaMOT'S House. To think, and to be wretched.-What is life,
To him that's born to die! or what that wisdom,
Enter OLD WILMOT.                  Whose perfection ends& in knowing we know
O. Wil. The day is far advanc'd; the cheerful         nothing!
sun                                    Mere contradiction all! a tragic farce,
Pursues with vigour his repeated course;        Tedious though short, and without art elab'rate
No labour lessens, nor no time decays           Ridiculously sadHis strength or splendour: evermore the same,                   Enter RANDAL.
From age to age his influence sustains
Dependent worlds, bestows both life and motion   Wrhere hast been, Randal 2
On the dull mass that forms their dusky orbs,     Ran. Not out of Penryn, Sir; but to the strand,
Cheers them  with heat, and gilds them  with  To hear what news from  Falmouth since the
brightness.                                     storm
Yet man, of jarring elements compos'd,          Of wind last night.
Who posts from change to change, from the first O. Wil. It was a dreadful one.
hour                                     Ran. Some found it so. A  noble ship from
Of his frail being till his dissolution,                 India
1*                                                     6




o                            FATAL CURIOSITY.                                   [ACT L
Ent'ring in the harbour, run upon a rock,   1 Shall I forsake you in your worst necessity.
A nd there was lost.                         Believe me, Sir, my honest soul abhors
O. Wil. What'came of those on board her?    The barb'rous thought.
Ran. Some few are sav'd; but much the    O. Wil. What! canst thou feed on air.
greater part,                        I have have not left wherewith to purchase food'Tis thought, are perished,:   -; For one meal more...
O. Wil. They are past the fear               Ran. Rather than leave you thus,
Of future tempests or a wreck on shore;      I'll beg my bread and live on others' bounty
Those who escap'd are still expos'd to both.  While I.serve you.
Where's your mistress?                         0. Wil. Down, down my swelling heart,
Ran. I saw her pass the High-street, towards Or burst in silence:'tis thy cruel fate
the Minster.                         Insults thee by his kindness. He is innocent
O. Wil. She's gone to visit Charlotte —She' Of all the pain it gives thee. Go thy ways,
doth well.                           [ will no more suppress thy youthful hopes
In the soft bosom of that gentle maid,       Of rising in the world.
There dwells more goodness than the rigld race - Ran.'Tis true; I'm young,
Of moral pedants e'er believ'd or taught.    And never tried my fortune, or my genius;
With what amazing constancy and truth        Which may, perhaps, find out some happy means
Doth she sustain the absence of our son,.......    As.yet unthought of, to supply your wants.
Whom more than life she loves! How shun for    0. Wil. Thou tortur'st me-I hate all obliga
him,                                         tions
Whom we shall ne'er see more, the rich and great; Which I can ne'er return. And who art thou,
Who own her charms, and sigh to make her That I should stoop to take'em from thy hand?
happy.-                              Care forthyself, but take no. thought forr me..
Since; our misfortunes,.we have found no friend,- I..will not want.thee-Lrouble me no more.
None who regarded our distress, but her;      Ran. Be not offended, Sir, and I will go:
And she,.by what I have observ'd of late,   I ne'er repin'd at your commands before 
Is tir'd, or exhausted —curs'd condition!   But, heaven's my witness, I obey you now
To live a burden to one only friend,         With strong reluctance and a heavy heart.
And blast her youth with our contagious woe!   Farewell, my worthy master! -     [Going
Who that had reason, soul, or sense, would bear it   O. W&il. Farewell-Stay —
A moment longer!-Then, this honest wretch'!-  As thou art yet a stranger to the world,
I must dismiss him-Why should I- detain      Of which, alas! I've:had too much experience,
A grateful, gen'rous youth to perish with me?    [ should, methinks, before we part, bestow
His service may procure him bread elsewhere.    A little counsel on thee. Dry thy eyesThough I have none to give him.  Pr'ythee  If thou weep'st thus, I shall proceed no farther.
Randal,                              Dost thou aspire to greatness, or to wealth,
How long hast thou been with me?            Quit books and the unprofitable search
Ran. Fifteen years.                        Of wisdom there, and study human kind:
I was a very child when first you took me,   No science will avail thee without that;
To wait upon your son, my dear young master:But, that obtain'd, thou need'st not any other.
I oft have wish'd I'd gone to India with him; I    This will instruct thee to conceal thy views,
Though you, desponding, give him o'er for lost. -And wear th.e face of probity and honour,
I am to blame.-This talk revives your. sorrow~'Till thou hast gain'd thy end; which must be
For his absence...-    -  ever.
O. Wil. That cannot be reviv'd,            Thy own advantage, at that man's expense
Which never died.                            Who shall be weak enough to think thee honest.
Ran. The-whole of my intent                  Ran.- You mock me, sure.
Was to confess your bounty, that supplied-     O. TVil.- Inever was more-serious.
The loss of both my parents: I was long        Ran. Why should you counsel what you
The object of your charitable care.                  scorn'd to practise?
O. Wil. No more of that.-Thou'st serv'd me    O. Wil. Because that foolish scorn has been
longer since                                 my ruin.
Without reward; so that account is balanc'd,    I've been an idiot, but would have thee wiser,
Or, rather I'm thy debtor. I remember,       And treat mankind, as they would treat thee,
When poverty began: to show her face                 Randal;
Within these walls, and all my other servants,  As they deserve, and I've been treated by'em.
Like pamper'd vermin from a falling:house, -  Thou'st seen, by me, and those. who now despise
Retreated with the plunder they had gain'd,          me,
And left me, too indulgent and remiss.      How men of fortune fall, and beggars rise;
For such ungrateful wretches, to be crush'd   Shun my example; treasure up my precepts;.
Beneath the ruin they had help'd to make,::..  The world's before thee-, be a knave and prosper.
That you, more good than wise, refused to leave What, art thou dumb.:  [After a long pause.
me.                                   Ran. Amazement ties my tongue.
Ran. Nay, I beseech you, Sir!-            Where are your former, principles?
0. Wil. With my distress,                    0. W;il. No matter;
In perfect contradiction to the world,       Suppose I have renounc'd'em: I have passions,
Thy love, respect, and diligence increased;  And love thee still; therefore would have thee
Now all the recompense within my power,              think,
Is to discharge thee, Randal, from my hard,  The world is all a scene of deep deceit,
Unprofitable service.                        And he who deals with mankind on the square,
Ran. Heaven forbid!                        Is his own bubble, and undoes:himself.  [Exit,




SCENE II.]                   FATAL CURIOSITY.'1
Ran. Is this the man I -thought so wise: and I Patience shall cherishhope, nor wronghis honour
just?                                 By unjust suspicion. I know his truth,
What! teach and counsel me to be a villain!   And will preserve my own. But to prevent
Sure grief has made him frantic, or some fiend   All future, vain, officious importunity,
Assumed his shape-.I shall suspect my senses.. Know, thou incessant foe of my repose,
High-minded he was ever, and improvident;     Whether he sleeps, secure from mortal cares,
But pit:ful:and.generous to a fault::In the deep bosom of the boist'rous main,:
Pleasure he loved, but honour was his idol.   Or, tossed with tempests, still endures.-its.rage,
0, fatal change!.0, horrid:transformation!-..    No second choice shall violate my vows;
So a majestic temple, sunk to -ruin,         - High heaven, -which heard them, and abhors theBecomes the loathsome shelter. and abode.             perjured,
Of lurking serpents, toads, and beasts of prey;:  Can witness, they were.. made without reserve; -
And scaly dragons hiss, and lions roar,.      Never to:be retracted, ne'er dissolved....
Where wisdom taught, -and music: charmed be, By- accidents or absence, time or death.
fore.          -               [Exit.   Mar. And did your vows oblige you to support
ICENE  I.L-A  Parlour in CHARLOTTE'S House. His haughty parents, to your utter ruin.  -..
Well may you weep to think. on what. you've
hinter CHARLOTTE and MARIA.                   done.; -
Char. What terror and amazement must they - - Char. I weep.to think that I can -do no more. -
Who die by shipwreck? 2-                 [feel:For their support. What will become of'em —,
1Mar.'Tis a dreadful thought!             The hoary, helpless, miserable pair.!:
Char. Ay,; is it not, Maria?  to descend,  -.Mar. What I can't praise, you force.me to.
Living and conscious, to that wat'ry tomb!           admire,
Alas! had we no sorrows of our own,           And mourn for you, as -you lament for.them.
The- frequent instances of others' woe        Your patience, constancy, and.resignation,.-..
Must give a gen'rous mind a world of pain.    Merit a better fate.
But you forget you promised me to sing.          Char. So pride would tell me,
Though cheerfulness and I have long been stran- And vain self-love; but I believe them not: - 
gAnd if, by wanting pleasure, I:have gained
Harmonious sounds are still delightful to me.  Humility, I'm richer for my loss.
There's sure no passion in the human sout,  Mar. You have the heavenly art, still to imThere's sure no passion in the human soul,
But finds its food in music-I would hear -prove
The song composed by that unhappy maid, -     Your mind by all events.  But here comes one,
Whose faithful lover'scap'd a thousand perils    Whose pride seems to increase with her misforFrom rocks, and sands, and the devouring deep:  Her faded dress, unfashionably fine,  [tunes.
And after all, being arrived at home,         As ill conceals her poverty, as that
Passing a narrow brook, was drowned there,    Strained complaisance her haughty, swelling
And perished in her sight.                           heart
Though perishing with want, so far from asking,
Mar. Cease, cease, heart-easing tears;      She ne'er receives a favour uncompelled;
Adieu, yousflutt'ring.fears,,And while she ruins, scorns to be obliged::
Which seven long tedious years.      Let me depart, I know she loves me:not.......
T'aught me to bear.             -[Exit MARIA.
Tears are for lighter woes                            Enter AGNES.
Fear, no such danger knows,
As Fate remorseless shows,               Char. This visit's kind.
Endless despair.           Agn. Few else would think it so::
- - Dear cause of- all:my pain,;Those who would once have-thought themselves
On the wide stormy main,                      much honoured
Thou towast preserved in vain,'By the least favour, though'twere but a look,
Though still ador'd;    1 could have shown them, now refuse to see me.
Hadst thou died there unseen.  --     -'Tis misery enough to be reduced.
IMy ~w~ounded eyes had bee~n  -.To the low level of the common herd, 
Sav'dfrom  the direst scene          -:Who, born to begg'ry, envy all above them;
Maid e'er deplord.:But'tis the curse of curses,- to endure
-  [CHARLOTTE finds a letter.,The insolent contempt of those we scorn.
Char. What's this?-A  letter, superscribed    Char. By scorning, we provoke- them to con.
to me!                                        tempt
None could convey it here but you, Maria:     And thus offend, and suffer in: our turns:
Ungen'rous, cruel maid! to use me thus!       We must have patience.
To join with flatt'ring men to break my peace,     Agn. No, I scorn them yet.
And persecute me to the last retreat!        But there's no end of suff'ring: who can say
Mar. Why should it break your peace, to hear Their sorrows are complete?. My wretched hue.
the sighs                                       band,
Of honourable love 1 This letter is-          Tired with our woes, and hopeless of relief,
Char. No matter whence-return it back un- Grows sick of life.
opened.                                And, urged by indignation and despair,
I have no love, no charms, but for my Wilmot,   Would plunge into eternity at once,
Nor would have any.                           By foul self-murder.
Mar. Alas! Wilmot's dead;                     Char. Gracious heaven, support-him!
Or, living, dead to you.                        Agn. His fixed love for me,
Char. I'll not despair;                      Whom he would fain persuade to share his fate,




8                           FATAL CURIOSITY.                                    [ACT L
And take the same, uncertain, dreadful course,   You and his father —(yes, you both were there)Alone withholds his hand.                    Strove to conceal him from me: I pursued you
Char. And may it ever!.                   Both with my cries, and call'd on heaven and earth
Agn. I've known with him the two extremes To judge my wrongs, and force you to reveal
of life,                              Where you had hid my love, my life, my WilThe highest happiness, and deepest woe,              mot!With all the sharp and bitter aggravations     Agn. Unless you mean t'affront me, spare the
Of such a vast transition. Such a fall                rest.
In the decline of life! I have as quick,'Tis just as likely Wilmot should return,
As exquisite, a sense of pain as he,         As we become your foes.
And would do any thing, but die, to end it;    Char. Far be such rudeness
But there my courage fails. Death is the worst  From Charlotte's thoughts; but when I heard you
That fate can bring, and cuts off ev'ry hope.        name
Char. We must not choose but strive to bear Self-murder, it reviv'd the frightful image
our lot                              Of such a dreadful scene.
Without reproach or guilt: but by one act      Agn. You will persist!Of desperation we may overthrow                Char. Excuse me; I have done.  Being a
The merit we've been raising all our days;           dream,
And lose our whole reward. And now, minethinks, I thought, indeed, it could not give offence
Now more than ever, we have cause to fear,     Agn. You could not think so, had you thought
And be upon our guard. The hand of heaven             at all:
Spreads clouds on clouds o'er our benighted heads, But I take nothing ill from thee. Adieu;
And, wrapp'd in darkness, doubles our distress.  I've tarried longer than I first intended,
I had, the night last past, repeated twice,  And my poor husband mourns the while alone.
A strange and awful dream: I would not yield                                       [Exi/
To fearful superstition, nor despise           Char. She's gone abruptly, and I fear displeas'd.
The admonition of a friendly power           The least appearance of advice or caution
That wish'd my good.                         Sets her impatient temper in a flame.
Agn. I've certain plagues enough,          When grief, that well might humble, swells oar
Without the help of dreams to make me wretched.       pride,
Char. I would not stake my happiness or duty And pride increasing, aggravates our grief,
On their uncertain credit, nor on aught      The tempest must prevail'till we are lost.
But reason, and the known decrees of heaven.    Heaven grant a fairer issue to her sorrows!
Yet dreams have sometimes shown events to                                          [Exii.
come,
And may excite to vigilance and care;        SCENE III.- The Town and Port of Penryn
My vision may be such and sent to warn us,
(Now we are tried by multiplied afflictions,)  Enter YOUNG WILMOT and EUSTACE,in Indian
t'o mark each motion of our swelling hearts,                    habits.
Lest we attempt to extricate ourselves,         Wit. Welcome, my friend! to Penryn: here
And seek deliverance by forbidden ways;               we're safe.
To keep our hope and innocence entire,         Eust. Then we're deliver'd twice; first from'Till we're dismiss'd to join the happy dead,        the sea,
or heaven relieves us here.                  And then from savage men, who, more remorseAgn. Well to your dream.                           less,
Char. Methought I sat, in a dark winter's Prey on shipwrecked wretches, and spoil and
night,                                       murder those
Orn the wide summit of a barren mountain;    Whom fatal tempests and devouring waves,
The sharp bleak winds pierc'd  through my In all their fury, spar'd.
shiv'ring frame,                       Wil. It is a scandal,
And storms of hail, and sleet, and driving rains,  Though malice must acquit the better sort,
Beat with impetuous fury on my head,         The rude unpolish'd people here in Cornwall
Drenched my chill'd limbs, and poured a deluge Have long lain under, and with too much justice:
round me.                           For'tis an evil, grown almost invet'rate,
On one hand ever gentle Patience sate,       And asks a bold and skilful hand to cure.
On whose calm bosom I reclin'd my head;        Eust. Your treasure's safe, I hope.
And on the other silent Contemplation.         Wil.'Tis here, thank heaven!
At length to my unclos'd and watchful eyes,  Being in jewels, when I saw our danger,
That long had roll'd in darkness, dawn appear'd; I hid it in my bosom.
And I beheld a man, an utter stranger,         Eust. I observed you;
But of a graceful and exalted mien,          And wonder how  you could command your
Who press'd with eager transport to embrace me.      thoughts,
I shunn'd his arms. But at some words he spoke, In such a time of terror and confusion.
Which I have now forgot, I turn'd again,       Wil. My thoughts were then at- home-O E..
But he was gone. And oh! transporting sight!         gland! England!
Your son, my dearest Wilmot, fill'd his place.    Thou seat of plenty, liberty, and health,
Agn. If I regarded dreams, I should expect    With transport I behold thy verdant fields,
Some fair event from yours.                  Thy lofty mountains rich with useful ore,
Char. But what's to come,                  Thy numerous herds, thy flocks, and winding
Though more obscure, is terrible indeed              streams!
Methought, we parted soon, and when L sought After a long and tedious absence, Eustace,
him,                                 With what delight we breathe our native air,




SCEN:XnI.]                   FATAL CURIOSITY.                                       9
And tread the genial soil that bore us first!  And fondly apprehend what none e'er found,'Tis said, the world is ev'ry wise man's country;  Or ever shall, pleasure and pain unmix'd;
Yet, after having view'd its various nations,  And flatter and torment ourselves by turns,
I'm weak enough, still to prefer my own,     With what shall never be.
To all I've seen beside.-You smile, my friend,  Wil. I'll go this instant
And think, perhaps,'tis instinct more than reason. To seek my Charlotte, and explore my fate.
Why, be it so. Instinct preceded reason,       Eust. What! in that foreign habit?
E'en in the wisest men, and may sometimes      Wil. That's a trifle,
Be much the better guide. But, be it either,  Not worth my thoughts.
1 must confess, that even death itself         Eust. The hardships you've endur'd,
Appear'd to me with twice its native horrors,  And your long stay beneath the burning zone,
When apprehended in a foreign land.          Where one eternal sultry summer reigns,
Death is, no doubt, in ev'ry place the same:  Have marr'd the native hue of your complexion;
Yet nature cast a look towards home, and most,  Methinks, you look more like a sun-burnt Indian
Who have it in their power, choose to expire  Than a Briton.
Where they first drew their breath.            Wil. Well,'tis no matter, Eustace!
Eust. Believe me, Wilmot,                  I hope my mind's not altered for the worse;
Your grave reflections were not what I smiled at; And for my outside-But inform me, friend,
I own the truth. That we're returned to Eng- When I may hope to see you.
land,                                  Eust. When you please:
Affords me all the pleasure you can feel.    You'll find me at the inn.
Yet I must think a warmer passion moves you;   Wil. When I have learn'd my doom, expect me
Thinking of that, I smil'd.                          there.
Wil. O Eustace! Eustace!'Till then farewell!
Thou know'st, for I've confess'd to thee, I love;    Eust. Farewell! success attend you! [Exeunt.
But, having never seen the charming maid,
Thou canst not know the fierceness of my flame.               ACT II.
My hopes and fears, like the tempestuous seas
That we have past, now mount me to the skies,      SCENE I.-CHARLOTTE'S House.
Now hurl me down from that stupendous height,
And drive me to the centre. Did you know     CHARLOTTE enters, in thought; and, soon after,
How much depends on this important hour,                      SERVANT.
You would not be surprised to see me thus.
The sinking fortune of our ancient house        erv. Madam, a stranger in a foreign habit
Compell'd me, young, to leave my native country,   Char. In a foreign habitMy weeping parents, and my lovely Charlotte;   Char. In a foreign habitWho rul'd, and must for ever rule my fate.'Tis strange and unexpected-But admit him.
O! should my Charlotte, doubtful of my truth,                            [Exit SERVANeT.
Or in despair ever to see me more  VWho can this stranger be? I know no foreigner.
)r in despair ever to see me more,
Have given herself to some more happy lover!-             WLMT eer.
Distraction's in the thought!-Or should my  W-LMOT ensers.
parents,                           — Nor any man like this.
Griev'd for my absence and oppressed with want,   Wil. Ten thousand joys 
Have sunk beneath their burden, and expir'd,                       [Going to embrace her.
While I, too late, was flying to relieve them;  Char. Sir, you are too bold-forbear and let
The end of all my long and weary travels,            me know
The hope that made success itselfa blessing,  What bus'ness brought you here; or leave the
Being defeated, and for ever lost,                   place.
What were the riches of the world to me.      Wil. Perfidious maid! am I forgot or scorn'd?
Eust. The wretch who fears all that is pos-   Char. Can I forget a man I never knew?
sible,                                  Wil. My fears are true: some other has her
Must suffer more than he who feels the worst         heart:
A man can feel, who lives exempt from fear.  She's lost-My fatal absence has undone me.
A woman may be false, and friends are mortal;                                     [Aside.
And yet your aged parents may be living,     0! could thy Wilmot have forgot thee, Charlotte'
And your fair mistress constant.               Char. Ha! Wilmot! say! what do your words
Wil. True, they may;                              ~ import 
I doubt,but I despair not-No, my friend!     O gentle stranger! ease my swelling heart:
My hopes are strong, and lively as my fears;  What dost thou know of Wilmot?
They tell me, Charlotte is as true as fair,    Wil. This I know.
That we shall meet, never to part again;    When all the winds of heaven seem'd to conspire
That I shall see my parents, kiss the tears  Against the stormy main, and dreadful peals
From their pale hollow cheeks, cheer their sad Of rattling thunder deafened ev'ry ear,
hearts,                              And drown'd th' affiighten'd mariners' loud cries;
And drive that gaping phantom, meagre want,   When livid lightning spread its sulphurous flames
For ever from their board; crown all their days   Through all the dark horizon, and disclos'd
To come, with peace, with pleasure and abun- The raging seas incens'd to his destruction;
dance;                               When the good ship in which he was embark'd
Receive their fond embraces and their blessings,  Broke, and, o'erwhelm'd by the impetuous surge.
And be a blessing to them.                  Sunk to the oozy bottom of the deep,
Eust.'Tis out weakness:-                 And left him struggling with the warring wave
Blind to events, we reason in the dark,     In that dread moment, in the jaws of death,
VOL...... B




10                           FATAL CURIOSITY.                                    CArT II.
When his strength fail'd, and every hope forsook  Remains, to tell my Charlotte I am he?
him,
[After viewing him sometime, she approaches
And his last breath press'd towards his trembling  [Atrviewinghimsometimeheapprocces
~~~~~~~lips,.~weeping, and gives him her hand; and
then, turning towards him, sinks upon
The neighbouring rocks, that echo'd- to his moan,      then, turning towards him, sinks upo
his bosom.
Return'd no sound -articulate, but-Charlotte.
Char. The fatal tempest, whose description. Why dost thou weep? why dost thou tremble
strikes                                       thus?
The hearer with astonishment, is ceas'd;"     Why doth thy panting heart and cautious touch
And WiImot is at rest. The fiercer storm -    Speak thee but half convinc'd. whence are thy
Of swelling passion that o'erwhelms the soul,-       ~ fears?
And rages worse than the mad foaming seas     Why art thou silent? canst thou doubt me still?
In which he perish'd, ne'er shall vex him more.  Char. No, Wilmot!'no; I'm  blind with too
Wil. Thou: seem'st to think he's dead; enjoy       much light:
that thought;                         O'ercome with wonder, and oppress'd with joy;
Persuade yourself; that what you wish is true-;  This vast profusion of extreme delight.
And triumph in'your falsehood.-Yes, he's dead; Rising at once, and bursting from despair,
You were his fate.  The cruel winds and waves, Defies the- aid of words, and mocks- description;
That cast him pale and breathless on the shore,  But for one sorrow,' one sad scene of anguish,
Spar'd him for greater woes-To know his Char- That checks the swelling torrent of my joys,
lotte,                                I could not bear the transport. -
Forgetting'all her vows to him and heaven,      TVil. Let me' know it:
Had cast him from her thoughts-then, then he Give me my portion of thy sorrow, Charlotte:!
died;                                 Let me partake thy grief, or bear it for thee.
But never must have rest. E'en now he wanders,: Char.: Alas!'my Wilmot!'the sad tears am
A sad, repining, discontented ghost,                 thine;
The unsubstantial shadow of himself,          They flow for thy misfortunes. I am pierc'd
And pours his plaintive groans in thy deaf ears,  With all the agonies of strong. compassion,
And stalks, unseen,'before thee.             With all the bitter anguish you must feel,
Char.'Tis enough   -                       When you shall hear your parents —Detested falsehood now has done its worst.       Wil. Are no more.
And art thou dead?   And would'st thou die,   Char. You apprehend me wrong.
my Wilmot!                             Wil. Perhaps I do.
For one thou thought'st unjust?-thou soul of Perhaps you mean to say, the greedy grave
truth!                                Was satisfied with one, and one is left
What must be done?-Which way shallI ex- To bless my longing eyes.-But which, my
press                                        Charlotte 1
Unutterable woe?. or how convince                Char. Afflict yourself no more with ground.
Thy dear departed spirit of the love,                less fears:
Th' eternal love, and never-failing faith,    Your parents both are living; Their distress,
Of thy much injur'd, lost, despairing Charlotte?  The poverty to which they are reduc'd,
Wil. Be still, my flutt'ring heart; hope not too In spite of my weak aid, was what I mourn'd;
~soon:                                And that in helpless age, to them whose youth
Perhaps I dream, and this is all illusion.    Was crowned with full prosperity, I fear,
Char. If, as some teach,'the spirit after death,  Is worse, much worse, than death. 
Free from the bonds and ties of sordid earth,    Wil. My joy's complete!
Can trace us to our most conceal'd retreat,   My parents living, and possessed of thee!See all we act, and read our very thoughts;   From this bless'd hour,, the happiest of my life,
To thee, 0 Wilmot! kneeling, I appeal:-      I'll date my rest. My anxious hopes and fears,
If e'er I swerv'd in action, word, or thought,  My weary travels, and my dangers past,
Or ever wished to taste a joy on earth        Are now rewarded all: now I rejoice
That centred not in thee since last we parted,-  In my success, and count my riches gain.
May we ne'er meet again, but thy loud wrongs   For know, my soul's'best treasure! I have
So close the ear of mercy to my cries,                wealth
That I may never see those bright abodes      Enough to glut e'en avarice itself:
Where truth and virtue only have admission,   No more shall cruel want, or proud contempt,
And thou inhabit'st now!                     Oppress the sinking spirits, or insult
Wil. Assist me, Heaven!                     The hoary heads of those, who gave me being.
Preserve my reason, memory, and sense!          Char.'Tis now, 0 riches, I conceive your
O moderate my fierce tumultuous joys,                 worth;
Or their excess will drive me to distraction.  You are not base, nor can you be superfluous,
0 Charlotte! Charlotte! lovely virtuous maid!   But when misplaced in base and sordid hands.
Can thy firm mind, in spite of time and absence., Fly, fly, my Wilmot! leave thy happy Charlotte!
Remain unshaken, and support its truth;       Thy filial piety, the sighs and tears
And yet thy frailer memory retain             Of thy lamenting parents, call thee hence.
No image, no idea, of thy lover?                Wil. I have a friend, the partner of my voyage,
Why dost thou gaze so wildly' look on me:    Who in the storm last night, was shipwreck'd
Turn thy dear eyes this way; observe me well.         with me.
Have scorching climates, time, and this strange    Char. Shipwreck'd last night! 0 you immorhabit,                                       tal powers!
So chang'd and so disguis'd thy faithful Wilmot, What have you suffered. How were you proThat nothing in my voice, my face, or mien,           served?




,SCENE mII.]                F A TAL.C U R I OS SIT Y.                                11
Wil. Let that, and all my other strange escapes  Ran.'Tis hard for me to judge..- You are
And perilous adventures, be-the theme   -already.Of many a happy winter night to come.        Grown so familiar to me, that I wonder
My present purpose was t'intreat my angel,   I knew you not at first; yet it may be; 
To know this friend, this other better W ilmot.;  For you're. muchzalter'd, and they think you dead.
And come with him this evening to my father's:  ~ Wil.. This is certain; Charlotte beheld me long,
I'll send.him to:thee....... And heard my loud reproaches and complaints,
Char. I consent with pleasure,.           Without remembering she had.ever.seen.me,
W/il. Heavens! what a. night!. HIow  shall.I My mind at ease grows wanton: I would fain':
-hbear my joy? -. -                  Refine on happiness. Why may I not. 
My parents, yours; my friends,: all will be mine.  Indulge mycuriosity, and, try.:
if such the early hopes, -the vernal bloom,  If it be possible, by seeing first.....
The distant prospect of my future bliss,,-.:  My parents as a stranger, to improve...:...
Then what the ruddy autumn 2-What-the fruit,,.Their pleasure-by Surprise,..
The full possession of thy heavenly charms?:   Ran. It may indeed.......: 
[Exeunt.. Enhance your.own, to see from what despair
Your timely coming and unhop'd success
-.  Have given you power to raise them.
Enter RANDAL.                    Wi/. I remember,.
Ran. Poor! poor!' and friendless! whithe  Eer since we learned together, you excell'd
shall I wander,                       In writing fairly, and could imitate
A-nd to- what point direct my- views and hopes?   Whatever hand you saw, with great exactness.
A menial servant -!-NoV-What! shall. I live,:. I therefore beg you'll write, in Charlotte's name.
Here in this land of freedom, live distinguished,   And character, a letter to my father
And mark'd ~ the willing slave of some: proud: Anlrecommendmeasafriendofhers
subject,'To his acquaintance.'To swell his useless train for broken fragments;    Ran. Sir, if you desire itThe cold remains of his superfluous board;    And yetI would aspire to something more and better.  -  Til: Nay,no objections-'Twill save time,
Turn- thy eyes then to the prolific ocean,         ~ Most precious with me now. For the deception,
Whose spacious bosom opens -to thy view:      If doing what my Charlotte will approve,
There deathless honour, and unenvied~ wealth,'Cause done for me, and with a good intent,
Have often crown'd the brave adventurer's toils.  Deserves the name, I'll answer it myself.
This is the native uncontested right,         If this succeeds, I purpose to defer
The fair inheritance of ev'ry Briton          Discov'ring who I am'till Charlotte comes.
That dares. put in his claim. My choice is made: And thou, and all who love me. - Ev'ry friend
A long farewell to Cornwall, and to England.      Who. witnesses my happiness to night,
If I return-But stay, what stranger's this,   Will, by partaking, multiply my joys.
Who, as he views me, seems to mend his pace?  Ran. You grow luxurious in imagination.
Enter WILMOT..             Could I deny you aught, I would not write
This-letter.  To say true, I ever thought 
Wit. Randal! The dear companion of my. Your boundless curiosity a weakness.
youth!                                  Wil. What canst thou blame in this.
Sure lavish fortune means to give me all'-     Ran. Your pardon; Sir!:I could desire or ask fori this bless'd day,.    Perhaps I spoke too freely;And leave me nothing to expect hereafter.     I'm ready to obey your orders.
Ran. Your pardon, Sir! I know but, one on.,: Wil. I am much thy debtor;
Could properly salute me by the title  [earth  But I shall find a time to quit thy kindness..
You're pleased to.give me, and I would not:think. O Randall but imagine to thyself
That you are he-'That you are Wilmot-. -     The-floods: of transport the sinceredelight
Wil. Why?                                 That all my friends will feel, when I disclose:.
Ran. Because I could not. bear the disappoint- To my astonished parents,:my return;.....,..
ment.                             And then confess that I have well contriv'd
Should I -be deceiv'd.                       By giving others joy, to exalt my own.
Wil. I am pleased to hear it:.                                                 [Exeunt.
Thy friendly fears better. ex-press thy thoughts.R:Than words.could do..                           SCENE II. —A Room in OLD WILMOT'
Ran. 0! Wilmot! O!, my master!;   House.
Are you returned    -
Wil. I have not embrae'd                             OLD WILMOT and AGNES.
My parents-I shall see you at. my father's.    0. Wil. Here, take this Seneca, this haughty
Ran.. No-; I'm  discharged.from, thence —O        pedant
Sir! such ruin.                      Who governing the master of mankind,
Wil. I've heard it all, and hasten to relieve'em, And awing power imperial, prates of-patience;
Sure heaven hath blessed me to that very end:   And praises poverty-possess'd of millions;
I've wealth enough: nor shalt thou want a part.  Sell him, and buy us bread. The scantiest meal
Ran. I have a part already. I am bless'd   The vilest copy of his book e'er purchas'd,
Inl your success, and share in all your joys.  Will give us more relief in this distress,
W: Vil. I doubt it not. But, tell me, dost thou  Than all his boasted precepts. Nay, no tears;
think,                                Keep them to move compassion when you beg.
My parents'not suspecting my return,          Agn. My heart: may break, but never stoop to
That I may visit them, and not be known?             that.




-12                          FATAL CURIOSITY.                                    LACT IM.
0. Wil. Nor would I live to* see it-But, The darkest hours precede the rising sun;
despatch.               [Exit AGNES. And mercy may appear when least expected
Where must 1 charge this length of misery,       0. Wil. This I have heard a thousand times
That gathers force each moment as it rolls,           repeated,
And must at last o'erwhelm me, but on hope:    And have, believing, been as oft. deceiv'd.
~ ain, flattering, delusive, groundless -hope,   Wil. Behold in me an instance of its truth.
That has for years deceiv'd.  Had I thought    At sea twice shipwreck'd, and as oft the prey
As I do now, as wise men ever think,          Of lawless pirates; by the Arabs thrice
When first this hell of poverty o'ertook me,  Surpris'd and robb'd on shore; and once reduc'd
That power to die implies a right to do it,   To worse than these, the sum of all distress
And should be used when life. becomes a pain,    That the most wretched feel on this side hell,
What plagues had I prevented! True, my wife E'en slavery itself: yet here 1 stand,
Is still a slave to prejudice and fear.       Except one trouble that will quickly end,
I would not leave my better part, the dear [ Weeps. The happiest of mankind.
Faithful companion of my happier days,           0. Wil. A rare example
To bear the weight of age and want alone.-    Of fortune's changes; apter to surprise
I'll try once more.                           Or entertain, than comfort or instruct.
If you would reason from events, be just,
Enter AGNES, and after her YOUNG WILMOT.  And count, when you escap'd, how many perish'd;
And draw your inference thence.
O. Wil. Return'd, my life! so soon?         Agn. Alas! who knows,
Agn. The unexpected coming of this stranger  But we were render'd childless by some storm,
Prevents my going yet.                        In which you, though preserv'd, might bear a part?
Wil. You're, I presume,                       Wil. How has my curiosity betray'd me
The gentleman to whom this is directed.       Into superfluous pain! I faint with fondness;
[Gives a letter. And shall, if I stay longer, rush upon them,
What wild neglect, the token of despair,      Proclaim  myself their son, kiss and embrace
What indigence, what misery, appears                  them;
In this once happy house! What discontent,    Till their souls, transported with the excess
What anguish and confusion fill the faces     Of pleasure and surprise, quit their frailmansions,
Of its dejected owners!               [Aside. And leave them breathless in my longing arms.
O. Wil. Sir, such welcome                   By circumstances then, and slow degrees,
As this poor house affords, you may command.   They must be let into a happiness
Our ever friendly neighbour-once we hoped     Too great for them to bear at once, and live:
T' have called fair Charlotte by a dearer name- That Charlotte. will perform: I need not feign
But we have done with hope-I pray excuse      To ask an hour for rest. [Aside.) Sir, I entreat
This incoherence-We had once a son. [ Weeps. The favour to retire, where, for a while,
Agn. That you are come from the dear vir-I may repose myself.  You will excuse
tuous maid,                            This freedom, and the trouble that I give you:
Revives in us the mem'ry of a loss,'Tis long since I have slept, and nature calls.
Which though long since, we have not learned to    O. Wil. I pray, no more; believe we're only
bear.                                        troubled,
Wil. The joy to see them, and the bitter pain  That you should think any excuse were needful.
It is to see them thus, touches my soul          Wil. The weight of this is some incumbrance;
With tenderness and grief, that will o'erflow.     [ Takes a casket out of his bosom, and give*
They know me not,-and yet, I fear, I shall                   it to his mother.
Defeat my purpose, and betray myself.  [Aside. And its contents of value: if you please
0. Wil. The lady calls you, here, her valued  To take the charge of it,'till I awake,
friend;                                I shall not rest the worse. If I should sleep
Enough, though nothing more should be implied,'Till I am ask'd for, as perhaps I may,
To recommend you to our best esteem-          I beg that you would wake me.
A worthless acquisition-May she find            Agn. Doubt it not:
Some means that better may express her kind- Distracted as I am with various woes.
ness!                                 I shall remember that.    [Exit, with 0. Wia.:But she, perhaps, hath purpos'd to enrich       Wilt. Merciless grief!
You with herself, and end her fruitless sorrow  What ravage has it made! how has it chang'd
For one whom death alone can justify          Her lovely bform and mind! I feel her anguish,
For leaving her so long. If it be so,         And dread, I know not what, from her despair.
May you repair his loss, and be to Charlotte  My  father too-O  grant them  patience,
A second, happier Wilmot! Partial nature,             Heaven!
Who only favours youth, as feeble age         A little longer, a few short hours more,
Were not her offspring, or below her care,    And  all their cares, and mine, shall end for ever.
Has sealed our doom: no second hope shall spring                                     [Exit.
To dry our tears, and dissipate despair.
Agn. The last and most abandoned of our                      ACT III.
kind!
SCENE I.- The same.
By heaven and earth neglected, or despisedThe same.
The loathsome grave that robb'd us of our son,   AGNES enters alone, with the casket in her hand.
And all our joys in him, must be our refuge.    Agn. Who should this stranger be! And then
Wil. Let ghosts unpardon'd, or devoted fiends      this casketFear without hope, and wail in such sad strains; He says it is of value, and yet trusts it,
But grace defend the'living from despair.     As if a trifle to a stranger's hand



:s:I.;].FATAL C U RIOSITY.                                      lB
His confidence amazes me-Perhaps            Were famine not as mortal as the sword,
It is not what he says-I'm strongly tempted  Your warmth might oe excus'd-But take thy
To open it and see-No, let it rest.                  choice;
Why should my curiosity excite me            Die how you will, you shall not die alone.
To search and pry into th' affairs of others,  Agn. Nor live, I hope.
Who have, t'employ my thoughts, so many cares   O. TVil. There is no fear of that.
And sorrows of my. own?-With how much ease   Agn. Then, we'll live both.
The spring gives way!-Surprising!             O. Wit. Strange folly! where the means'
My eyes are dazzled, and my ravish'd heart     Agn. There those jewelsLeaps at the glorious sight-How bright's the    0. Wil. Ah!-Take heed!lustre,                             Perhaps thou dost but try me; yet take heed —
How immense the worth of these fair jewels?    There's nought so monstrous but the mind of
Ay, such a treasure would expel for ever             man
Base poverty, and all its abject train;      In some conditions may be brought t'approve;
Famine; the cold neglect of friends;         Theft, sacrilege, treason, and parricide,
The galling scorn or more provoking pity     When flatt'ring opportunity entic'd,
Of an insulting world-Possess'd of these,    And desperation drove, have been committed
Plenty, content, and power might take their turn, By those who once would start to hear them
And lofty pride bare its aspiring head               nam'd.
At our approach, and once more bend before us. —   Agn. And add to these detested suicide,
A pleasing dream l'Tis past; and now I wake. Which, by a crime much less, we may avoid.
For sure it was a happiness to think,          0. Wil. The inhospitable murder of our guest!Though but a moment, such a treasure mine.    How could'st thou form a thought so very damnNay, it was more than thought-I saw and              ing,
touched                -So advantageous, so secure, and easy;
The bright temptation, and I see it yet-     And yet so cruel, and so full of horror?'Tis here-'tis mine-I have it in possession-   Agn.'Tis less impiety, less against nature,
Must I resign it? Must I give it back?     To take another's life than end our own.
And I, in love with misery and want,           O. fWil. No matter which, the less or greater
To rob myself, and court so vast a loss.-           crime:
Retain it then-But how?-There is a way-    Howe'er we may deceive ourselves or others,
Why sinks my heart? Why does my blood run  We act from inclination, not by rule,
cold?                              Or none could act amiss.-And that all err,
Why am I thrill'd with horror? —'Tis not choice, None but the conscious hypocrite denies.
But dire necessity, suggests the thought.,0! what is man, his excellence and strength,
Enter OLD WILMOT.                When in an hour of trial and desertion,
Reason, his noblest power, may be suborn'd
O. Wil. The mind contented, with how little To plead the cause of vile assassination.
pains                                 Agn. You're too severel: reason may justly
The wand'ring senses yield to soft repose,           plead
And die to gain new life? He's fallen asleep  For our own preservation.
Already, happy man!-What dost thou think,     0. Wil. Rest contented:
My Agnes, of our unexpected guest?          Whate'er resistance I may seem to make,
He seems to me a youth of great humanity:    I am betray'd within: my will,'s seduc'd,
Just ere he clos'd his eyes, that swam in tears,    And my whole soul infected. The desire
He wrung my hand and press'd it to his lips;    Of life returns, and brings with it a train
And with a look that pierc'd me to the soul,  Of appetites, that rage to be supplied.
Begged me to comfort thee: and-dost thou Whoever stands to parley with temptation,
hear me?-                          Parleys to be o'ercome.
What art thou gazing on? —Fie,'tis not well-  Agn. Then nought remains,
This casket was delivered to you closed:    But the swift execution of a deed
Why have you open'd it? Should this be known, That is not to be thought on or delay'd.
How mean must we appear?                      O. Wil. Generous, unhappy man! 0! what
Agio. And who shall know it?                      could move thee
0. Wil. There is a kind of pride, a decent To put thy life and fortune in the hands
dignity,                             Of wretches mad with anguish.
Due to ourselves; which, spite of our misfor-   Agn. By what means
tunes,                              Shall we effect his death?
May be maintain'd, and cherish'd to the last.  0. Wil. Why, what a fiend!To live without reproach and without leave  How cruel, how remorseless, and impatient,
To quit the world, shows sovereign contempt,    Have pride and poverty made thee?
And noble scorn of its relentless malice.     Agn. Barbarous man!
Agn. Shows sov'reign madness, and a scorn of Whose wasteful riots ruin'd our estates,
sense.                              And drove our son, ere the first down had spread
Pursue no farther this detested theme:      His rosy cheeks, spite of my sad presages,
I will not die, I will not leave the world   Earnest entreaties, agonies, and tears,
For all that you can urge, until compell'd.  To seek his bread'mongst strangers, and to perisa
0. Wit. To chase a shadow, when the setting In some remote, inhospitable land —
sun,                                The loveliest youth, in person and in mind,
Is darting his last rays, were just as wise,  That ever crown'd a groaning mother's pains!
As your anxiety for fleeting life,          Where was thy pity, where thy patience then,
Now the last means for its support are failing:   Thou cruel husband! thou unnat'ral father'
VOL. 1.            2




14                          FATAL C URIiO SITY.                                 [ACTr IIL
Thou most: remorseless, most ungrateful man!   Stop, hold thy hand!-Inconstant, wretched woTo waste my fortune, rob me of my son; *             man!
To drive me to despair, and then reproach me    What! doth my heart recoil.-O,Wilmot! WilFor being' what thou'st made me.                     mot!
O. Wil. Dry thy tears:..  What power shall I invoke to aid thee, Wilmot
I ought not to reproach thee. 1 confess                                     [Scene closes
That thou hast suffer'd:much: so have we both.
SCENE III. —Another Room.
But chide no more; I'm wrought up to thy purpose.
The poor, ill-fated, unsuspecting victim,      Enter CHARLOTTE EUTACE, and RANDAL.
Ere he reclin'd him on the fatal couch,
From which he's ne'er to rise; took off the sash  Char. What strange neglect! The doors aro
And costly dagger that thou saw'st him wear;         all unbarr'd,
And thus, unthinking, furnish'd us with arms    And not a living creature to be seen.
Against: himself.  Steal to the door,
And bring me word, if he be still asleep.
[Exit AGNES. Sir we are come to give and to receive
Or I'm: deceived, or-he-pronounc'd himself  A thousand greetings.-Ha! what can this mean I
The::happiest of mankind;- Deluded wretch!  Why do you look with: such amazement on us?
Thy thoughts are perishing, thy youthful joys,   Are these your transports for your son's return'
Touch'd by the icy hand of grisly death,    Where is my Wilmot 2. Has he not beenhere'
Are with'ring in their -bloom. But, thought ex- Would he defer your happiness so long;
-—: - tinguish'd,                       Or, could a habit so disguise your son,
He'll never know:the loss, nor feel the bitter  That you refus'd to own him.
Pangs of disappointment. Then I was wrong      Agn. Heard you that?
In counting:him a wretch: to die well pleas'd,    What prodigy of horror is disclosing,
Is all the fappiest of mankind can hope for.  To render murder venial!
To be a wretch, is to survive the loss         O. Wil. Pr'ythee, peace:
Of every joy, and even; hope itself,         The miserable damn'd suspend their howling,
As I: have done. Why do I mourn him then?   And the swift orbs are fix'd in deep attention.
For, by the anguish of my tortur'd soul,       Ran. What mean these dreadful,words and
He's to be envied, if compar'd with me.  [Exit.      frantic air!
That is the dagger my young master wore.
SCENE II.-A Room, with YOUNG WILMOT           Eus. My mind misgives me. Do not stand to
asleep. upon a Bed, in7 the distance.          gaze::Enter OLD WILMOT and AGNES.    -..:    On these dumb phantoms of despair and horror 1
Let us search farther: Randal, show the way.
Agn. The stranger sleeps at present; but so   [Exeunt RANDAL, EUSTACE, and CHARLOTTE
restless                              Agn. Let life forsake the earth, and light the
His slumbers:seem, they can't continue long.        sun,
Here, I've secur'd his dagger.               And death and darkness bury in oblivion
0. Wil. 0, Agnes! Agnes! if there be a hell, Mankind and all their deeds, that no posterity'tis just..        May ever rise to hear.our horrid tale,
We should expect it.                         Or view the grave of such detested parricides.
- Goes to take the dagger, lets it fall.   O. Wil. Curses and deprecations are in vain.
Agn. Shake off this panic,- and be more your- The sun will shine and all things have theiw
self.                                       course,
O. Wil. What's to be done?  On what had When we the curse and burden of the earth,
we:determin'd?.         -      - Shall be absorb'd and mingled with its dust.
Agn. You're quite dismay'd.                Our guilt and desolation must be told,
-[ Takes up the dagger. From age. to age, to teach desponding mortals,
O. Wil. Give me the fatal steel.       H- -How far beyond the reach of human thought'Tis but a single murder:.... Heaven, when incens'd, can punish.-Die -thou
Necessity, impatience and despair,                  first.                 [Stabs AGNES.
The three wide mouths of that true Cerberus,    I dare not trust thy weakness.
Grim Poverty, demand; —they shall be stopp'd.  Agn. Ever. kind,
Ambition, persecution, and revenge,         But most in this!
Devour their millions daily: and shall 1-      O. Wil. I will not long survive thee.
But follow me, and see how little cause        Agn. Do not accuse thy erring mother, Wilmot!
You had to think there was the least remain  With t(o much rigour,, when we- meet above.
Of manhood, pity; mercy, or remorse,         To give thee life for life, and blood for. blood,
Left in this savage breast.  -   Is not enough. Had I ten thousand lives,
[Going the -wrong way. I'd give them: all to speak my-penitence,
Agn. Where do you go:?                     Deep, and sincere, and equal to my-crime.
The street:is that way.                     Oh, Wilmot! oh, my son! my son!       [Dies.
O. Wil. True, I had forgot.                       Enter R        and E
Agn.. Quite, quite confounded.
O. Wil. Well, I recover.                    Eust. Oh, Wilmot! Wilmot!
I shall find the way.  [Retires towards the bed. A.rethese the fruits of all thy anxious cares
Agn. 0, softly!  softly! -The least noise undoes For thy ungrateful parents?-Cruel fiends!
us.                                   O. Wil... What whining fool art: thou, wh~
What are we doing? Misery and want                  would'st usurp
Are lighter ills than this! I cannot bear it!-  My sovereign right of grief? —Washe thy son I



SCENE III.                FATAL CURIOSITY.                                       lb
Say! canst thou show thy hands reeking with A'thousand ages hence, I then should suffer
blood,                             Much less than I deserve. Yet let me say,
That flow'd, through purer channels, from thy You'll do but justice, to inform the world,
loins'.                     This horrid deed, that punishes itself,
Compute the sands that bound the spacious ocean, Was not intended, thinking him our son;
And swell their numbers with-a single grain.;:i For that we: knew not,'till it was too late.
Increase the noise of thunder with thy voice;*    Proud and impatient under our afflictions,
Or, when the raging wind lays nature waste,    While heaven was labouring to make us happy,
Assist the tempest with thy feeble breath!  We brought this dreadful ruin on ourselves.
But name not thy faint sorrow with the anguish' Mankind may learn-but-oh!-     [Di/e.
Of a curs'd wretch, who only hopes for this  Ran. Heaven grant they may 
[Stabs himself. And may thy penitence atone thy crime!
To change the scene, but not relieve his pain;.    Tend well the hapless Charlotte, and bear hence
Ran. A dreadful instance of the last remorse! These bleeding victims of despair and pride;
May all our woes end here!                Toll the death-bell! and follow to the grave
0. Wil. 0 would they end:    The wretched parents and ill-fated son. [E:-e~xt.




THE GUARDIAN:
A COMEDY,
IN TWO ACTS.
BY DAVID GARRICK, Esq.
REMARKS.
Mr. Garrick, perhaps the best judge of the drama that this or any other nation ever produced, has, in the following
ittle piece, presented the theatrical world with a translation of M. Fagan's "Pupille," which was esteemed a
very complete little comedy. He has, however, not confined himself to a mere translation, but has, with great
judgment, made "such alterations from the original as the difference of the language and manners required."
The success with which this piece was attended, so far exceeded the hopes of the author, that he availed himself
of " an opportunity to return thanks to the public for their kind indulgence, and to the performers, for their great
sare."
Mr. Heartly the guardian, originally performed by Mr. Garrick himself, and Miss Harriot, his ward, by Mite
Pritchard, are two finely-drawn characters, which were well supported.
DRAMATIS PERSON3E.
DRURY-LANE.                      COVENT GARDEN.
MR. HEARTLY..............Mr. Garrick..................   r. Murray.
SIR CHARLES CLACKlT............Mr Yates.........         Mr. Munden.
MR. CLACKIT..............M  O'Brien......... Mr. Bruntonm
SERVANT....................................           Mr. W. Murray.
MIss HARRIOT..............    Miss Pritchard.........          Miss Taylor.
LUCY.....................Mrs. Clive.                             Mrs. Mattocks.
ACT I.                     me-Another sign of love.-And whenever I
SCELNE 1.L-A Hall at IIMR. HEARTLY'S.    speak to any body else she seems to be pvfectly easy-That's a certain sign of love.
Enter Sir C. CLACKIT, YOUNG CLACKIT, and       Sir C. The devil it is!
SERVANT.                       Young C. When I am with her, she's always
Sir C. Tell Mr. Heartly, his friend and neigh- grave; and the moment I get up to leave her,
bour, Sir Charles Clackit, would say three words then the poor thing begins —" Stay, you agreeto him.                                       able runaway, stay, I shall soon overcome the
Serv. I shall, Sir-                 [Exit. fears your presence gives me."-   I could say
Sir C. Now  nephew, consider once again, more-But a man of honouri unclebefore I open the matter to my neighbour Heartly,   Sir C. What, and has she said all these things
what I am going to undertake for you.-Why  to you.
don't you speak'!                               Young C. 0 yes, and ten times more-with
Young C. Is it proper and decent, uncle?  her eyes.
Sir C. Pshaw; don't be a fool-but answer   Sir C. With her eyes!  Eyes are very equime-don't you flatter yourself-What assurance vocal, Jack. —However, if the young lady has
have you that this young lady, my friend's ward, any liking to you, Mr. Heartly is too much a
has a ilking to you?                         man of the world, and too much my friend, to
Young C. First then-Whenever I see her oppose the match; so do you walk into the gar
she never looks at me-That's a sign of love.-  den, and I will open the matter to him.
Whenever I speak to her she never answers    Young C. Is there any objection to my staying,
16




ScENE I.]                     THE GUARDIAN.                                        17
uncle'. The business will soon be ended. You    Young C. You'll excuse me, Mr. Heartlywill propose the match, he will give his consent, My uncle does not set up for an orator-a little
I shall give mine, miss is sent for, and l'affaire confused or so, Sir-You see what I am —But
estfait.              [Snapping hisfingers. I ought to ask pardon for the young lady and
Sir C. And so you think that a young beautiful myself-We are young, Sir.-I must confess we
heiress, with forty thousand pounds, is to be had were wrong to conceal it from you-but my uncle,
with a scrap of French, and a snap of your fin- I see is pleased to be angry, and therefore I shall
ger?-Pr'ythee, get away, and don't provoke me. say no more at present.
Young C. Well, well, I am gone, uncle.-     Sir C. If you don't leave the room this moment,
When you come to the point, I shall be ready to and stay in the garden till I call youmake my appearance.-Bon voyage!    [Exit.   Young C. I am sorry I have displeased youSir C. The devil's in these young fellows, 1 I did not think it was mal-a-propos; but you
think.-We send'em abroad to cure their sheep- must have your way, uncle-You command-I
ishness, and they get above proof the other way.  submit —Mr. Heartly, yours.     [Exit.
Sir C. Puppy! [Aside.] My nephew's a little
unthinking, Mr. Heartly, as yotr see, and thereGood morrow to you, neighbour.              fore I have been a little cautious how I have proHeart. And to you, Sir Charles; I am glad to ceeded in this affair: but indeed he has persuaded
see you so strong and healthy.               me, in a manner, that your ward and he are not
Sir C. I can return you the compliment, my ill together.
friend-Without flattery, you don't look more than    Heart. Indeed! This is the first notice I have
thirty-five; and between ourselves, you are on had of it, and I cannot conceive why Miss Harthe wrong side of forty-But, mum for that.    riot should conceal it from me; for I have often
Heart. Ease and tranquillity keep me as you assured her that I would never oppose her inclisee.                                         nation, though I might endeavour to direct it.
Sir C. Why don't you marry, neighbour'  A    Sir C. You are right, neighbour.-But here
good wife would do well for you.             she is.
Heart. For me'  you are pleased to be merry,
Sir Charles.                                          Enter HARRIOT and LucY.
Sir Charles.
Sir C. No, faith, I am serious, and had I a daugh-   Har. He is with company-I'll speak to him
ter to recommend to you, you should say me nay, another time.                   [Retires.
more than once, I assure you, neighbour Heartly,   Lucy. Young, handsome, and afraid of being
before I would quit you. -                   seen.-You are very particular, Miss.
Heart. I am much obliged to you.                                    [Apart to HARRIOT.
Sir C. And now to my business.-You have   Heart. Miss Harriot, you must not go.-[HARao objection, I suppose, to tie up your ward, RIOT returns.] Sir Charles, give me leave to inMiss Harriot, though you have slipped the collar troduce you to this young lady.-[Introduces her.]
yourself.-Ha, ha, ha!                        You know, I suppose, the reason of this gentleHeart. Quite the contrary, Sir; I have taken man's visit to me'
her some time from the boarding school, and   Har. Sir!                       [Confused.
brought her home, in order to dispose of her   Heart. Don't be disturb'd, I shall not reproach
worthily with her own inclination.          you with any thing but keeping your wishes a
Sir C. Her father, I have heard you say, re- secret from me so long.
commended that particular care to you, when she   Har. Upon my word, Sir-Lucy!
had reached a certain age.                     Lucy. Well, and Lucy! I'll lay my life'tis a
Heart. He did so-And I am the more desi. treaty of marriage.-Is that such a dreadful thing'
rous to obey him scrupulously in this circumstance, Oh, for shame, Madam! Young ladies of fashion
as she will be a most valuable acquisition to the are not frightened at such things now-a-days.
person who shall gain her-for, not to mention   Heart. [To SIR CHARLES.] We have gone too
her fortune which is the least consideration, her far, Sir Charles.-We must excuse her delicacy,
sentiments are worthy her birth; she is gentle, and give her time to recover:-I had better talk
modest, and obliging.-In a word, my friend, I with her alone; we will leave her now.-Be pernever saw youth more amiable or discreet-but suaded that no endeavours shall be wanting on
perhaps I am a little partial to her.       my part to bring this affair to a happy and speedy
Sir C. No, no, she is a delicious creature, every conclusion.
body says so.-But I believe, neighbour, some-   Sir C. I shall be obliged to you, Mr. Heartly.thing has happened that you little think of.  Young lady, your servant.-What grace and
Heart. What, pray, Sir Charles 2           modesty! She is a most engaging creature, and I
Sir C. My nephew, Mr. Heartly   -         shall be proud to make her one of my family.
[ To HEARTLY.
Re-enter YOUNG CLACKIT.              Heart. You do us honour, Sir Charles.
Young C. Here I am at your service, Sir.-          [Exeunt SIR CHARLES and HEARTLY.
My uncle is a little unhappy in his manner; but   Lucy. Indeed, Miss Harriot, you are very parI'll clear the matter in a moment-Miss Harriot, ticular.  You was tired of the boarding school,
Sir-your ward-                               and yet seem to have no inclination to be marriSir C. Get away, you puppy!              ed.-What can be the meaning of all this? That
Young C. Miss Harriot, sir, your ward, a most smirking old gentleman is uncle to Mr. Clackit;
accomplished young lady, to be sure-         and, my life for it, he has made some proposals
Sir C. Thou art a most accomplished coxcomb, to your guardian.
to be sure.                                    Har. Pr'ythee, don't plague me about Mr.
Heart. Pray, Sir Charles, let the young gen- Clackit.
Oleman speak.                                  Lucy. But why not, Miss'  Though he is a
VOL. 1.... C        2*




18                            THE GUARDIAN.                                    [ACTr L
little fantastical, loves to hear himself talk, and me in particular.-But that is not all-I have
is somewhat self-sufficient, you must consider he lately found you thoughtful, absent, and disturbed
is young, has been abroad, and keeps good com- -Be plain with me-has not somebody been
pany. —The trade will soon be at an end, if happy enough- to please you!
young ladies and gentlemen grow over-nice and    Har. I cannot deny it, Sir-yes-someborny
exceptious.                                 indeed has pleased me.-But I must entreat yot.
Har. But if I can find one without thesefaults, not to give credit to any idle stories, or inquire
I may surely please myself.                  further into the particulars of my inchnatlon;
Lucy. Without these faults! and ishe young, for I cannot possibly have resolution: enough to
Miss!                                        say more to you.
Har. He is sensible, modest, polite, affable, and    Heart. But have you made a choice my dear?
generous; and charms from the natural impulses   Har. I have, in my own mind, Sir, and'tis
of his own heart, as much as others disgust by impossible- to make a better; —reason, honour,
their senseless airs and insolent affectation.  every thing must approve it.
Lucy. Upon my word!-but why have you   Heart. And how long have you conceived this
kept this a secret so longS?  Your guardian is passion?
kind to you beyond conception.-What difficulties   Har. Ever since I left the country to live with
can you have to overcome?                    you.                                 [Sighs.
Har. Why, the difficulty of declaring my sen-   Heart. I see your confusion, and will relieve
timents.                                     you from it immediately-I am informed of the
Lucy. Leave that to me, Miss.-But your wholespark, with all his accomplishments, must have - Har. Sir!
very little penetration not to have discovered his   Heart. Don't be uneasy, for I can with pleasure
good fortune in your eyes.                   assure you that your passion is returned with
Hear. I take care that my eyes don't tell too equal tenderness.
much; and he has too much delicacy to interpret   Har. If you are not deceived-I cannot be more
looks to his advantage.  Besides he would cer- happy.
tainly disapprove my passion; and if I should    Heart. I think I am not deceived; —but after
ever make the declaration, and meet with a denial, the declaration you have made, and the assurances
I should absolutely die with shame.          which I have given you, why will you conceal it
Lucy. I'll insure your life for a silver thimble.- any longer?  Have I not deserved a little more
But what can possibly hinder your coming toge- confidence from you?
ther.                                         Har. You have indeed deserved it, and should
Har. His excess of merit.                  certainly have it, were I not well assured that
Lucy. His excess of a fiddlestick!-But come, you would oppose my inclinations.
I'll put you in the way:-you shall trust me with    Heart. I oppose'em! Am I then so unkind to
the secret-I'll entrust it again to half a dozen you, my dear Harriot?-Can you in the least
friends; they shall entrust it to half a dozen doubt of my affection for you!-I promise you
more; by which means it will travel half the that I have no will but yours.
world over in a week's time: the gentleman will   Har. Since you desire it then, I will endeavour
certainly hear of it, and then if he is not at your to explain myself.
feet in the fetching of a sigh, I'll give up all my    Heart. I am all attention-speak.
perquisites at your wedding.-What is his name,   Har. And if I do, I feel I shall never be able
Miss  to speak to you again.
Har. I cannot tell you his name-indeed I   Heart. I see your delicacy is hurt: but let me
cannot: I am afraid of being thought too singu-'entreat you once more to confide in me.-  Tell
lar.-But why should I be ashamed of my pas- me his name, and- the next moment I will go to
sion? Is the impression which a virtuous cha- him, and assure him that my consent shall confirm
racter makes upon our hearts such a weakness both your happiness.
that it may not be excused 1                   Har. You will easily find him.-And when
Lucy. By my faith, Miss, I can't understand you have, pray tell him how improper it is for a
vou: you are afraid of being thought singular, young woman to speak first-persuade him to
and you really are so.-I would sooner renounce spare my blushes, and to release me from so terall the passions in the universe, than have one in rible a situation-I shall leave him with you —
my bosom beating and fluttering itself to pieces.  and hope that this declaration will make it impossible for you to mistake me any longer  [Going.
Re-enter I-EARTLY.
Heart. Leave us, Lucy.
Heart. Leave us, Lucy.                    Enter YOUNG CLACKIT.-HARRIOT remains on
Lucy. There's something going forward-'tisthe Stage.
very hard I can't be of the party.  [Aside, exit.   Heart. Are we not alone? what can this mean"?
Heart. She certainly thinks, from the character   Young C. Apropos, faith!  Here they are toof the young man, that I shall disapprove of her gether.
choice.                              [Aside.   Heart. I did not see him; but now the riddle's
Har. What can I possibly say to him   I am  explained.                          [Aside.
as much ashamed to make the declaration, as he   Har. What can he want now-This is the
would be to understand it.          [Aside. most spiteful interruption.           [Aside.
Heart. Don't imagine that I would know more    Young C. By your leave, Mr. Heartlyof your thoughts than you desire I should; but [Crosses him to go'to HARRIOT.] Have I caughi
the tender care which I have ever shown, and the you at last, my divine Harriot' —Well, Mr.
sincere friendship which I shall always have for Heartly, sans fagon —But what's the matter?you, give me a right to inquire into every thing  Things look a little gloomy here;-one mutters
that concerns you.-Some friends have spoken to to himself and gives me no answer, and the other




acme:N Lr.1.       THE  GUARDIAN.                                       19
turns her head and winks at me.-How the devil   Young C. Come, come, I know what [ knowam I to interpret all this?                   Har. Don't make yourself ridiculous, Mr.
Har. I wink at you, Sir!-.Did I, Sir?   Clackit.
Young C. Yes, you, my angel-but mum-    Young C. Don't you make yourself miserable,
Mr. Heartly, for heaven's sake, what is all this. Miss Harriot  -
Speak, I conjure you, is it life or death with me?-  Har. I am only so when you persist to torment
Har. What a dreadful situation I am in!  me.
Young C. Hope for the best.-I'll bring mat-  - Young C. And you really: believe that you
ters about, I warrant you.                  don't love me?                    - [Smies.
Heart. Miss- Harriot's will is a law to-me; and.- Har. Positively not.
for you, Sir-the friendship which II have ever -: Young C. And you are very sure now that:professed for your uncle is too sincere not to ex- you hate me.      [Conceitedly.
ert some of it on this occasion.  -Hat. Oh! most cordially.
Har. I sha'll die with confusion!  [Aside.   Young C. Poor young lady! I do pity you
Young C.:I am alive again.-Dear Mr. -Heart- from my soul.
ly, thou art a most adorable creature!:' What a   WHar. Then why don't you leave me.
happiness it is to have to do with a man of sense,  Young C. "She never told her love,
who has no foolish prejudices, and can see when a  -  But let concealment, like a worm i' th' bud,
young fellow has something tolerable about him!  -   Feed on her damask cheek."
Heart. Sir, not to flatter you, I must declare Take warning, Miss, when you once begin to
that it is from. a knowledge -of your friends and pine in thought,'tis all overt with you; ~and be.
family, that I have hopes of seeing you and this  assured, since you are obstinately bent to give
young lady happy. -I will go directly: to your yourself airs,: that-if you once suffer me to leave
uncle, and assure him that every thing goes on* this house in a pet-Do you mind me?-not all
to our wishes.  -                   [ Going. your sighing, whining, fits, vapours, and hysterHar. Mr. Heartly-pray, Sir!                ics, shall ever move me to take the least compasHeart. Poor Harriot, I see your distress, and sion on you —Coute qu'il coute.
am sorry for it; but it must be got over, and the
sooner the better.-Mr. Clackit, my dear, will be 
glad of an opportunity to entertain you for the   Sir C. There they are, the pretty doves!
ittle time that I shall be absent. Poor Miss Har- That is the age, neighbour Heartly, for happiriot!                         [Smiles; Exit. ness and pleasure.
Young C. Allez, allez, monsieur!-I'll an-   Heart. I-am willing, you see, to lose no time,
swer for that.-Well, Ma'am, I think every which may convince you, Sir Charles, how proud
thing succeeds to our wishes.-Be sincere, my I am of this alliance-in our families.
adorable-Don't you think yourself a very    Sir C.'Gad, I will send for the fiddles, and
happy young lady?                            take a dance myself, and a fig for the gout and
Har. I shall be most particularly obliged to rheumatism.-But hold, hold   the lovers meyou, Sir, if you would inform me what is the thinks are a little out of humour with each other.
meaning of all this.                         What is the matter, Jack?  Not pouting sure
Young C. Inform you, Miss?-The -matter, I before your time?
believe, is pretty clear: —our friends have under-    Young C. A trifle, Sir-the lady will tell
standings-we'have affections-and a marriage you.                         [Hums a tune.
follows of course.                             Hearr. You seem to be troubled, Harriot! —
Har. Marriage, Sir!:Pray what relation or what can this mean?
particular connection is there between you and    Har. You have been in an error, Sir, about
me, Sir                                      me;-I did not undeceive you, because I could
Young C. I may be deceived, faith;-but upon not imagine that the consequences could have
my honour, I always supposed that there was been so serious and so sudden;-but I-am now
a little smattering of inclination between us.  forced to tell you that you have misunderstood
Har. And have you spoke to my guardian me-that you have distressed me.
upo lithis supposition, Sir?.               Heart. How, my dear?
Young C. And are you angry at it?-  be-   Sir C. What do you say, Miss?
hieve not.                                     Young C. Mademoiselle is pleased to be out
Har. Indeed, Sir, this behaviour of yours is of humour; but I cant blame her; for, upon my
most extraordinary.                         honour, I think a little coquetry becomes her.
Young C. Upon my soul this is very droll. —    Sir C. Ay, ay, ay-oh, oh-Is that all? These
What:! has not yourguardian been here this mo- little squalls seldom overset the lover's.boat, but
ment, and- expressed all imaginable pleasure at drive it the faster to port-ay, ay, ay —- -
our intended union?                            Young C. Talk to her a little, Mr. Heartly.
Har. He is in an error, Sir:-and had I not She is a fine lady, and has many virtues; but
been too much astonished at your behaviour, I had she'does not know the world.
undeceived him long before now.               Heart. For heaven's sake, Miss Harriot, exYoung C. [Hums a tune.] But pray, Miss, plain this riddle to me.
what can be your intention in raising all this   Har. I cannot, Sir.-I have discovered the
confusion in the family, and opposing your own weakness of my heart-I have discovered it to
inclinations?                               you, Sir; —but your unkind interpretations and
Har. Opposing my own inclinations, Sir?   reproachful looks convince me that I have alYoung C. Ay, opposing your own inclina-' ready said too much.[ Exit; HEARTLY mnuses.
lions, Madam.                                  Sir C. Well, but harkye, nephew-this is
IiarG. Be assured, Sir, I never in my life had going a little too far —What have you done to hel:?
the least thought about you.                   Heart. I never saw her so agitated befbte.-'




20                            THE GUARDIAN.                                   [ACT IL
Young C. Upon my soul, gentlemen, I am as defend from every inquietude the most delicate and
much surprised at it as you can be-The little tender of her sex.
brouillerie between us arose upon her persisting    Sir C. Most nobly and warmly said, Mr.
that there was no passion, nopenchant between us. Heartly.-  Go to her, nephew  directly, —
Sir C. I'll tell you what, Jack —— There is throw yourself at her feet, and swear how much
a certain kind of impudence about you, that I her beauty and virtue have captivated you, and
don't approve of.                            don't let her go till you have set her dear little
Young C. But what can the lady object to.I heart at rest.
I have offered to marry her; is not that a proof    Young C. Would you have me say the same
sufficient that I like her. A young fellow must thing over and over again Q-I can't do it posihave some affection that will go such lengths to tively-It is my turn to be piqued now.
indulge it. Ha, ha!                            Sir C. Damn your conceit, Jack; I can bear
Sir C. Why really, friend Heartly, I don't see it no longer.
how a young man can well do more, or a lady   Heart. I am very sorry to find that any young
desire more.-  What say you neighbour.      lady so near and dear to me, should bestow her
Heart. Upon my word, 1 am puzzled about it heart where there is so little prospect of its being
- my thoughts upon the matter are so various valued as it ought.-However, I shall not opand so confused.-Every thing I see and hear is pose my authority to her inclinations; and soso contradictory-is so —She certainly can- Who waits there.
not like any body else!
Young C. No, no, I'll answer for that.
Heart. Or she may be fearful then that your Let the young lady know that I shall attend her.passion for her is not sincere; or, like  other commands in the library. [Exit SERVANT.] Will
young men of the times, you may grow careless you excuse me, gentlemen.
upon marriage, and neglect her.                Sir C. Ay, ay-we'll leave you to yourselves;
Young C. Ha!'Egad, you have hit it; no- and pray convince her that I and my nephew are
thing but a little natural, delicate sensibility-   most sincerely her very humble servants.
[Hums a tune.   Young C. 0 yes, you may depend upon me.
Heart. If so, perhaps the violence of her re-   Heart. A very slender dependence truly.
proaches may proceed from the lukewarmness of                              [Aside; Exit.
your professions.                              Young C. We'll be with you again to know
Young C. Je vous demande pardon-I have what your tete h thte produces, and in the meansworn to her a hundred and a hundred times, that time I am hers-  and yours-  Adieu. Come
she should be the happiest of her sex.-But uncle   Fal,  la, la!
there is nothing suprising in all this; it is the    Sir C. I could knock him down with pleasure.
~misery of an over-fond. heart, to be always doubt-                      [Aside; Exeunt.:ful of its happiness.
Heart. And if she marries thee, I fear that. ACT II.
she'll be kept in a state of doubt as long as she
lives.                          [Half aside.           SC, ENE I.-A Library.
Re-enter LucY.                     HEARTLY and a SERVANT discovered.
Lucy. Pray, gentlemen, which of you has af-   Heart. Tell Miss Harriot that I am here.-If
fronted my mistress' She is in a most prodi- she is indisposed, I will wait upon her in her own
gious taking yonder, and vows to return into the room. [Exit SERVANT.] However mysterious her
country again.                               conduct appears to me, yet still it is to be deciYoung C. Poor thing!                      phered  -This young  gentleman  has cerHeart. I must inquire further into this; her be. tainly touched her-There are some objections
haviour is too particular for me not to be disturb- to him, and among so many young men of fashion
ed at it.                                   that fall in her way, she certainly might have
Lucy. She desires that when she has recovered made a better choice: she has an understanding
herself, she may talk with you alone, Sir.  to be sensible of this; and, if I am not mistaken,
[To HEARTLY. it is a struggle between her reason and her pasHeart. I shall with. pleasure attend her.  sion that occasions all this confusion.-But here
[Exit LucY. she is.
Sir C. I would, give, old as I am, a leg or an           Enter HARRIOT.
arm to be beloved by that sweet creature as you
are, Jack!                                    Har. I hope you are not angry, Sir, that I left
Young C. And throw your gout and rheuma- you so abruptly, without making any apology?
tism into the bargain, uncle  I-Ha, ha, Divine   Heart. I am angry that you think an apology
IBacchus. La, la, la, &c.           [Sings. necessary.-The matter we were upon was of
Sir C. I wonder what the devil is come to the such a delicate nature, that I was more pleased
young fellows of this age, neighbour Heartly?-  with your confusion than I should have been with
Why a fine woman has no effect upon'em.-Is your excuses. You'll pardon me my dear.
there no method to make'em less fond of them-   Har. I have reflected that the person'for whom
selves. and more mindful of the ladies.     I have conceived a most tender regard, may, from
Heart. Look ye, Mr. Clackit, ifi Miss Harriot's the wisest motives, doubt of my passion; and
affections declare for you, she must not be tyeated therefore I would endeavour to answer all his
with neglect or disdain-Nor could I bear it, objections, and convince him how deserving he is
Slr.-Any man must be proud of her partiality of my highest esfdem.
to him; and he must be fashionably insensible in-   Heart. I have not-yet apprehended what kind
deed, who would not make it his darling care to of dispute could arise between you and Mr




SCENE I.1                     THE GUARDIAN.                                           21
Clackit:-but I would advise you both to come    Har. Yet my passion is a most disinterested
to a reconciliation as soon as possible.      one
Har. He still continues in his error, and I can-   Heart. Most disinterested one.
not undeceive him.                   [Aside.   Har. And to convince you,that you owe much
Heart. Shall I take the liberty of telling you, more to my affectionsmy dear — [ Takes her hand.]-You tremble,   Heart. And then?
Iarriot!-What is the matter with you?          Har. I could wish that I had not experiencedHar. Nothing, Sir.-Pray go on.                Heart. Stay, stay: Had not experiencedHeart. I guess whence proceeds all your unea-   Har. Your tender care of me in my infancysiness.-You fear that the'world will not be so   Heart. What did you say i-  Did I hear
readily convinced of this young gentleman's merit right, or am I in a dream?       [Aside.
as you are: and indeed I could wish him more    Har. Why have I declared myself. He'11 hate
deserving of you; but your regard for him gives me for my folly.                    [Aside.
him a merit he otherwise would have wanted, and    Heart. Harriot!
almost makes me blind to'his failings.          Har. Sir!
Har. And would you advise me, Sir, to make    Heart. To whom do you write this letter?
choice of this gentleman?                      Har. To-to-Mr. Clackit-Is it not?
Heart. I would advise you, as I always have   Heart. You must not mention then the care of
done, to consult your own heart upon such an oc- your infancy: it would be ridiculous.
ctsion.                                        Har. It would indeed:-I own it:-It is imHar. If that iL your advice, I will most reli- proper.
giously follow it; and, for the last time, I am re-   Heart. Then I'll only finish your letter with
solved to discover my real sentiments; but as a the usual compliment and send it away.
confession of this kind will not become me, I   Har. Yes-send it away-if you think I ought
have been thinking of some innocent stratagem  to send it.
to spare my blushes, and, in part, to relieve me    Heart. [Troubled.] Ought to send it! Who'a
from the shame of a declaration.-Might I be there?
permitted to write to him t                                 Enter a Servant.
Heart. I think you may my dear, without the Carry this letter. [An action escapes.from HARleast offence to your delicacy: and indeed you  RIOT as ito hi
ought to explain yourself; your late misunder- it not for Mr. Clackit.
standing makes it absolutely necessary.                           Who can it be for 
Har. Will you be kind enough to assist me H-h
Har.Will you writ e it for meough Sir? o assist  Heart. [ To the Servant.] Here, take this letter
WillHeart. Oh, moswrite it  willfor me, Sir  am  to Mr. Clackit. [Gives the letter; exit Servant.
Heart. Oh, most willingly! —And  as I am    Har. He disapproves my passion, and I shall
made a party it will remove all objections.   die    He disapproves my passion, and I shall
Har. I will dictate to you in the best manner I
am able.                             [Sighs.                  Enter LucY.
Heart. Here is pen, ink, and paper; and now,   Lucy. The conversation is over, and I may
my dear, I am ready.-He is certainly a man of appear. [Aside.]-Sir Charles is without, Sir,
family, and though he has some little faults, time and is impatient to know your determination.
and your virtues will correct them.-Come, what May he be permitted to see you?7
shall I write?            [Prepares to write.   Heart I must retire, to conceal my weakness.
Har. Pray give me a moment's thought; —'tis                                 Aside;
a terrible task, Mr. Heartly                                                  [Aside; Exit.
Xa terrible taskMr.  Heartly.                Lucy. Upon my word this is very whimsical. —
Heart. I know it is. —Don't hurry yourself-  What is the reason, Miss, that your guardian is
I shall wait with patience.-Come, Miss Harriot. gone away without giving me  an answer.
Har. [Dictating.] It is in vain for me to con-   Hr. What a contempt e must have for me
ceal from one of your understanding, the secrets to behave in this manner!   [Aside; Exit.
of my heart.                                    Lucy, Extremely well this, and equally foolish
Heart. The sec7rets of my heart.    [Writes. on both sides I-But what can be the meaning of
Har. Though your humility and modesty will it?-What a shame is this that I don't know
not suffer you to perceive it-                more of this matter, a wench of spirit as I am, a
Heart. Do you think that he is much troubled  favourite of my mistress, and as inquisitive as I
with those qualities.
har. Pray indulge me, Sir.                  ought to be 2 It is an affront to my character, and
I must have satisfaction immediately. —[Going.]
Heart. I beg your pardon. —Your humility  I will go directly to my young mistress, tease her
aond modesty will not suffer you to perceive it-  to death till I am at the bottom of this; and if
So.                                          threatening, soothing, scolding,whispering, crying,
Har. Every thing tells you, that it is you that and lying will not prevail, I will e'en give her
I love.
Heart. Very well.                 [Writes,..warning-and go upon the stage.        [Exit.
Har. Yes-you that 1 love.-Do you under-                  Re-enter HEARTLY,
stand me?                                       Heart. The more I reflect upon what has
Heart. O! yes, yes-I understand you-that passed, the more I am convinced that she did not
it is you that I love.-This is very plain, my dear. intend writing to this young fellow.-What
Har. I would have it so.-And though I am  am I to think of it then? —Had not my reason
already bound in gratitude to you-            made a little stand against my presumption, [
Heart. In gratitude to Mr. Clackit?        might have interpreted some of Harriot's words
Har. Pray write, Sir.                       in my own favour; but -Can it be possible
Heart. Well —in gratitude to you —I must that so young a creature should even cast a thought
write what she would have me.         [Aside. of that kind upon me?-Upon meI — No, no



22                            THE GUARDIAN.                                    ACT II.
I will do her and myself the justice to acknow- as such a choice.-Nay, Sir, I went a little farther
ledge, that, for a very few slight appearances, (you'll excuse me,) and told her —-' Good God,
there are a thousand reasons that destroy so ri- madam," said I, " why he is old and gouty, asthdiculous a supposition.                      matic, rheumatic, sciatic, splenetic." —It signified
~Enter SIR CHARLES CLACKIT..nothing, she had determined.Sir C. But you need not have told her all
Sir C.: Well, Mr. Heartly, what are we to that.-It can't be me.-No, no, it can't be me.
hope for?                                     Lucy. But I. tell you it is, Sir. You are the
Heart. Upon my word, Sir, I am still in the man.
daik.; we puzzle about indeed, but we don't get   Sir C. Say you so?-Why then, monsieur neforward.                                     phew, I shall have a little laugh with youSir C. What the devil is the meaning of all Ha, ha, ha! —Your betters must be served before
this 2 There never sure were lovers so difficult to you.-But here he comes- -Not a word, for
bring together. But have you not been a little your life.-We'll laugh at him most triumtoo rough with the lady? For as I passed by her phantly-Ha, ha! but mum, mum.
but now, she seemed a little out of humour-             Enter YOUNG CLACKT.
And, upon my faith, not the less beautiful for a
Iltte u              rSCle pouting.           IYoung  C  Meeting by accident with some
Heart.inpon my word, Sir Charles, what I artists of the string, and my particular friends, 1
can: collect from her behaviour is, that your ne- have brought'em to celebrate Miss Harriot's and
phew is not so much in her good graces as he my approaching happiness.     [To HEARTLY
made you believe.                              Sir C. Do you hear the puppy.  [Tio LucY.
Sir C.'Egad,: like enough;-But hold,   Heart. It is time to clear up all mistakes.
hold; this must be looked a little into   if it is so,   Sir C. Now for it.
I would be glad to know why and wherefore I   Heart. Miss Harriot, Sir was not destined for
have: been made so ridiculous.-Eh, Master you.
Heartly, does he take me for his fool, his beast,   Young C. What do you say, Sir'?
his merry Andrew? By the lord Harry-          Heart. That the young lady has fixed her afHeart. He is of an age Sir Charles-        fections upon another.
Sir C. Ay, of an age to be very impertinent;   Young C. Upon another!
but I shall desire him to be less free with his uncle   Sir C. Yes, Sir, another:-That is English,
for the future, I assure him.                Sir; and you my translate it into French, if you
like it better.
Re-enter LucY.                   Young C. Very well, Sir, extremely well.
Lucy. I have it, I have it gentlemen! you need    Sir: C. And that other, Sir, is one to whom
not puzzle any more about the matter-I have you owe great respect.
got the secret.-   I know the knighterrant that'Young C. I am his most respectful humble serLas wounded our distressed lady.             vant.
Sir C. Well, and who, and what, child?      Sir C. You are a~fine youth, my sweet nephew,
Lucy. What! has she not told you Sir?    to tell me a story of a cock and a bull, of you
[ To HEARTLY. and the young lady, when you have no more inHeart. Not directly.                       terest in her than the czar of Muscovy.
Lucy. So much the better. —What pleasure   Young C. [Smiles.] But, my dear uncle, don't
X t is to discover a secret, and then tell it to all the carry this jest too far-  I shall begin to be unworld!-I pressed her so much that she at last easy: but whoever my precious rival is, he
confessed.                                   must prepare himself for a little humility; for, be
Sir C. Well, what?                         he ever so mighty, my dear uncle, I have that in
Lucy. That, in the first place, she did not like my pocket will lower his topsails for him.
your nephew.                                                        [Searching his pocket.
Sir C. And I told the puppy so.              Sir C. Well, what's that?
Lucy. That she had a most mortal antipathy    Young C. A fourteen pounder only, my good
for the young men of this age; and that she had uncle-A letter from the young lady.
settled her affections upon one of riper years, and             [Takes it out of his pocket.
riper understanding.                           Sir C. What! to you?
Sir C. Indeed!                               Young C. To me, Sir   This moment re-Lucy, And that she expected from a lover in ceived, and overflowing with the tenderest sentihis autumn more affection, more complaisance, ments.
more constancy. and discretion, of course.     Sir C. To you?
Heart. This is very particular.              Young C. Most undoubtedly. - She  re-:Sir C.- Ay,-butit is very prudent for all that.  proaches me with -my excessive modesty-there
Lucy. In short, as she had openly declared can be no mistake.
against the nephew- I took upon me to speak of   Sir C. What letter is this he chatters about?
his uncle.                                                                 [To HEARTLY.
Sir C. Of me, child?                        Heart. One written by me, and dictated by the
Lucy. Yes,i of you, Sir;-..And she did not young lady.
say me nay  -B ut cast such a look, and fetched    Sir C. What! sent by her to him?
such a sigh-that if ever I looked'and sighed   Heart. 1 believe so.
in my life, I know how it is with her.         Sir C. WVell, but then-How  the devilSir C. What the'devil! —Why:surely-Eh, Mrs. Lucy!-Eh!-What becomes of your
Lacy! You joke for certain-Mr, Heartly!-Eh! fine story?
Lucy. Indeed I do not, Sir.'Twas in vain   Lucy.- I don't understand it.
otr sme to say that nothing could be so ridiculous   Sir C. Nor I 




SCENE I.]                    THE GUARDIAN.                                         23
Heart. [Hesitating.] Nor   I-                Sir C. [Bowing.] You are very obliging, MaYoung C. But I do-And so you will all pre- dam.
Zently.                                        Har. Neither is it, Sir, a merit of that extraordinary nature, that I should sacrifice to it an
inclination which I have conceived for another.
Har. Bless me, Mr. Heartly, what is all this   Sir C. How is this?
music for in the next room?                   Young C. Another! not you; mind that, uncle,
Young C. I brought the gentlemen of the   Lucy. What is the meaning of all this?
string, Mademoiselle, to convince you that I feel   Young C. Proof positive, uncle-And very
as I ought the honour you have done me.-[Show- positive.
ing the letter.J-But, for heaven's sake, be sin-   Sir C. I have been led into a mistake, Madam,
cere a little with these good folks; they tell me which I hope you will excuse; and I have made
here that I am nobody, and there is another hap- myself very ridiculous, which I hope I shall
pier than myself.                            forget:-And so, Madam, I am your humble serHar. To hesitate any longer would be injurious vant.
to my guardian, his friend, this young gentleman,   Heart. What I now see, and the remembrance
and my own character. You have all been in an of what is past, force me to break silence.
error.-Mv bashfulness may have deceived you-    Young C. Ay, now for it.-Hear him-hear
My heart never did.                          him.Young C. C'est vrai..         -  Heart. 0 my Harriot!-I too must be disgraced
Har. Therefore before I declare my sentiments, in my turn.-Can you think that I have seen and
it is proper that I disavow any engagement:-  conversed with you unmoved?-Indeed I have
But at the same time must confess            not.-The more I was sensible of your merit, the
Young C. Oh-ho!                           stronger were my motives to stifle the ambition
Har. With fear and shame confess —-        of my heart.-But now 1 can no longer resist the
Young C. Courage, Mademoiselle!          violence of my passion, which casts me at vour
Har. That another, not you, Sir, has gained a feet, the most unworthyindeed of all your admirers,
power over my heart.    [ To YOUNG CLACKIT. but of all the most affectionate.
Sir C. Another, not you; mind that, Jack.   Har. I have refused my hand: to Sir Charnes
Ha, ha!: and this young gentleman: the one accuses me
Har. It is a power indeed which he despises.- of caprice, the other of singularity:-Should I
r cannot be deceived in. his conduct.-Modesty  refuse my hand a third time, [smiling,] I might
may tie the tongue of our sex, but silence in him  draw upon myself a more severe reproach-and
could proceed only from contempt.           therefore I accept your favour, Sir, and will enSir C. How prettily she reproaches me!I-But deavour to deserve it.
I'll soon make it up with her.       [Aside.   Heart. And thus I seal my acknowledgements
Har. As to that letter, Sir, your error there is and from henceforth devote my every thought
excusable; and I own myself in that particular a and all my services, to the author of my happiness.
little blameable.  -But it was not -my fault that.....               [Kisses her hand.
it was sent to you; and the contents must have  Sir C. Well, my dear discreet nephew, are you
told you that it could not possibly, be meant for satisfied with the fool's part you have given me,
you.                   r To YOUNG CLAcKIT. and played yourself in the farce?
Sir C. Proof positive, Jack: —Say' no more.- -  Young -C. What would you have me say, Sir?
Now is my time to begin.- Hem!-hem!-Sweet I am too much a philosopher to fret.
young  lady!-hem!-whose  charms are  so   Heart. I' hope, Sir Charles, that we shall still
mighty, so far transcending every thing that we continue to live as neighbours and friends. For
read of in history or fable, how could you possibly you, my Harriot. words cannot express my wonthink that my silence proceeded from contempt?  der or my joy; my future conduct must tell you
was it natural or prudent, think you, for a man  what a sense I have of my happiness, and how
of sixty-five, nay, just entering into his sixty-sixth  much I shall endeavour to deserve it.
year-                                          For ev'ry charm that ever yet bless'd youth,
Young C. O misericorde! what, is my uncle    Accept compliance, tenderness, and truth;
my rival?  Nay then, I burst, by Jupiter!-Ha,   My friendly care shall change to grateful love,
ha, ha!                                        And the fond husband still the Guardian prove
Har. Don't imagine, Sir, that to me your age                                  [Exeunt
is any fault.




THE LYING VALET:
A FARCE,
IN TWO ACTS.
BY DAVID GARRICK, ESQ.
REMARKS.
raIs piece was first launched at the Theatre in Goodman's Fields; but Mr. Garrick, who soon quitted that
place for the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, brought his Farce with him. It appears to be founded on an old English
Comedy: but it has spirit, incident, and variety, with language well adapted to the characters.
Considerable success attended the numerous early repetitions of this diverting afterpiece, and it forms a useful
addition to the stock-list of every Theatre in the kingdom.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
DRURY LANE.
SHARP............................  Mr. Garrick.
GAYLESS,........................................Mr. Blakes.
JUSTICE GUTTLE,...........                     Mr. Taswell.
BEAU TRIPPET,...M............. r. Neal.
DICK.... -....................................Mr. Yates..MrLmSA..........................................Miss Bennet.
MELISSA,.                                        Miss Bennet.
KITTY PRY,......................................Mrs. Clive.
MRS. GADABOUT,...................              Mrs. Cross.
MRS. TRIPPET................................... Mrs. Ridolt.
ACT I.                      have imposed upon her, I am almost resolved to
throw myself at her feet, tell her the real situation
SCENE I.-GAYLEss's Lodgings.            of my affairs, ask her pardon, and implore her pity.
Enter GAYLESs and SHARP.               Sharp. After marriage, with all my heart, Sir.
Gay. What, because I am poor, shall I abandon
Sharp. How, Sir! shall you be married to- my honour.
morrow.  Eh, I'm  afraid you joke with your   Sharp. Yes, you must, Sir, or abandon me: so
poor humble servant.                          pray discharge one of us; for eat I must, and
Gay. I tell thee Sharp, last night Melissa con- speedily too: and you know very well that that
sented, and fixed to-morrow for the happy day.   honour of vours will neither introduce you to a
Sharp.'Tis well she did, Sir, or it might have great man's table, nor get me credit for a single
been a dreadful one for us, in our present condi- beef-steak.
tion: all your money spent, your moveables sold,   Gay. What can I do.
your honour almost ruined, and your humble ser-   Sharp. Nothing, while honour sticks in your
vant almost starved; we could not possibly have throat: do gulp, master, and down with it.
stood it two days longer. But if this young lady    Gay. Pr'ythee, leave me to my thoughts.
will marry you and relieve us, o'my conscience,   Sharp. Leave you! No, not in such bad com.
I'll turn friend to the sex, and think of a wife pany, I assure you. Why you must certainly
myself.                                       be a very great philosopher, Sir, to moralize and
Gay. And yet, Sharp, when I think how I declaim so charmingly as you do, about honour
24




SCENE I.]                   THE LYING VALET.                                       25
and conscience, when your doors are beset with       Re-enter SHARP, with KITTY.
bailiffs, and not one single guinea in your pocket
to bribe the villians.                         Kitty. I must know where he is, and will
Gay. Don't be witty, and give your advice, know too, Mr. Impertinence!
Sirrah!                                        Sharp. Not of me you won't. [Aside.] He's
Sharp. Do you be wise and take it, Sir. But not within, I tell you, Mrs. Kitty. I dont know
to be serious; you certainly have spent your for- myself. Do you think 1 can conjure?
tune, and out-lived your credit, as your pockets   Kitty. But I know you will lie abominably;
and my belly can testify: your father has disown- therefore don't trifle with me. I come from my
ed you; all your friends forsook you, except my- mistress, Melissa:you know, I suppose, what's
self; who am starving with you. Now, Sir, if to be done to morrow morning?
you marry this young lady, who as yet, thank    Sharp. Ay, and to-morrow night too, girl!
heaven, knows nothing of your misfortunes, and   Kitty. Not if I can help it. [Aside.] But come,
by that means procure a better fortune than that where is your master  for see him I must.
you squandered away, make a good husband, and    Sharp. Pray Mrs. Kitty, what's your opinion
turn economist, you still may be happy, may still of this match between my master and your misbe Sir William's heir, and the lady too no loser tress?
by the bargain. There's reason and argument,   Kitty. Why, I have no opinion of it at all; and
Sir.                                         yet most of our wants will be relieved by it too; for
Gay.'Twas with that prospect I first made instance now, your master will get a fortune,
love to her.                                that's what I am afraid he wants; my mistress
Sharp. Pray then make no more objections to will get a husband, that's what she has wanted
the marriage. You see I am  reduced to my for some time; you will have the pleasure of my
waiscoat already; and when necessity has un- conversation, and I an opportunity of breaking
dressed me from top to toe, she must begin with your head for your impertinence.
you; and then we shall be forced to keep house,   Sharp. Madam, I'm your most humble serand die by inches; —Look you, Sir, if you wont vant! But I'll tell you what, Mrs. Kitty, I am
resolve to take my advice, while you have one positively against the match; for was I a man of
coat to your back, I must e'en take to my heels, my master's fortune,
while I have strength to run, and something to   Kitty. You'd marry if you could, and mendit
cover me: so Sir, wishing you much comfort and ha, ha, ha!-Pray Sharp, where does your masconsolation with your bare conscience, I am your ter's estate lie 2
most obedient and half-starved friend and servant.   Sharp. Lie, lie!-why, it lies-'faith I can't
[Going. name any particular place, it lies in so many; his
Gay. Hold, Sharp, you won't leave me 2    effects are divided, some here and some there; his
Sharp. I must eat, Sir; by my honour and steward hardly knows himself.
appetite, I must!                              Kitty. Scattered, scattered, I suppose. But
Gay. Well then, I am resolved to favour the harkye, Sharp, what's become of your furniture?
cheat; and as I shall quite change my former You seem to be a little bare here at present.
course of life, happy may be the consequences; at   Sharp. Why you must know, as soon as the.
least of this I am sure-                     wedding was fixed, my master ordered me to reSharp. That you can't be worse than you are move his goods to a friend's house, to make room
at present.             [A knocking without. for a ball which he designs to give here the day
Gay. Who's there?                        after the marriage.
Sharp. Some of your former good friends, who   Kitty. The luckiest thing in the world! for my
favoured you with money at fifty per cent. and mistress designs to have a ball and entertainment
helped you to spend it; and are now become here to-night before the marriage; and that's my
daily mementoes to you of the folly of trusting business with your master.
rogues, and laughing at my advice.             Sharp. The devil it is!            [Aside.
Gay. Cease yourimpertinence!-to the door!-    Kitty. She'll not have it public; she designs to
If they are duns, tell'em my marriage is now  invite only eight or ten couple of friends.
certainly fixed, and persuade'em still to forbear   Sharp. No more 2
a few days longer. And do you hear Sharp, if   Kitty. No more: and she ordered me to desire
it should be any body from Melissa, say I am not your master not to order a great entertainment.
at home, lest the bad appearance we make here   Sharp. Oh, never fear.
should make'em suspect something to our disad-   Kitty. Ten or a dozen little nice things, with
vantage.                                     some fruit, I believe, will be enough in all conSharp. I'll obey you, Sir; but I'm afraid they science.
will easily discover the consumptive situation of   Sharp. Oh, curse your conscience!   [Aside.
our affairs by my chop-fallen countenance. [Exit.   Kitty. And what do you think I have done of
Gay. These very rascals, who are now con- my own head?
linually dunning and persecuting me, were the   Sharp. What?
very persons who led me to.my ruin, partook of   Kitty. 1 have invited all my lord Stately's sermy prpsperity, and professed the greatest friend- vants to come and see you, and have a dance in
ship.                                        the kitchen: wont your master be surprised?
Sharp. [Without.] Upon my word, Mrs. Kit-   Sharp. Much so, indeed!
ty, my master'snot at home.                   Kitty. Well, be quick and find out your mas
Kitty. [ Without.] Lookye, Sharp, I must and ter, and make what-haste you can with your prewill see him.                                parations: you have no time to lose. Pr'ythee,
Gay. Ha, what do I hear  Melissa's maid!-  Sharp, what's the matter with you. I have not
She's coming up stairs. What must I do?-1'll seen you for some time, and you seem to look
get into this closet and listen.     [Exit. little thin.
Vo,. I....D        3




-26                        THE LYING: VALET.                                    AcTr I.
Sharp. Oh, my unfortunate face! [Aside.] I'm  do you be as merry as love and poverty will per.
in pure health, thank you, Mrs. Kitty; and I'll mit you.
assure you I have a very good stomach, never bet-   Would you succeed, a faithful friend depute,
ter in all my life; and I am full of vigour, hussy!   Whose head can plan, and front can execute.
[Offers to kiss her.                                 [Exeunt
Kitty. What, with that face —Well, by by.NE II-M                       Lodgings.
[Going.]-Oh, Sharp, what ill-looking fellows
are those, who were standing about your door          Enter MELISSA and KITTY.
when I came in. They want your master too, I   M/el. You surprise me, Kitty! the master not at
suppose?.                                   home, the man in confusion, no furniture in the
Sharp. Hum! Yes, they are waiting for him. house, and ill-looking fellows about the doors!
They are some of his tenants out of the country,'Tis all a riddle.
that want to pay him some money.               Kitty. But very easy to be explained.
Kitty. Tenants! What, do you let his tenants   Mel. Pr'ythee explain it then, nor keep me
stand in the street.                        longer in suspense.
Sharp. They choose it; as they seldom come to   Kitty. The affair is this, Madam: Mr. Gaytown, they are willing to see as much of it as less is over head and ears in debt; you are over
they can when they do: they are raw, ignorant head and ears in love: you'll marry him to-mor.
honest people.                               row; the next day your whole fortune goes to his
Kitty. Well, 1 must run home-farewell!-  creditors, and you and your children are to live
But do you hear? Get something substantial for comfortably upon the remainder.
us in the kitchen: a ham, a turkey, or what you    Mel. I cannot think him base.
will. We'll be very merry. And be sure to   Kitty. But I know they are all base. You
remove the tables and chairs away there too, that are very young, and very ignorant of the sex; I
we may have room to dance. I can't bear to be am young too, but have more experience: you
confined in my French dances-tal, lal, lal. [Dan- never was in love before; I have been in love
ces.] Well, adieu! Without any compliment, I with a hundred, and tried'em all; and know'em
shall die, if I don't see you soon.  [Exit.  all to be a parcel of barbarous, perjured, deluding
Sharp. And, without any compliment, I pray  bewitching devils.
heaven you may!                                Mel. The low wretches you have had to do
Re-enter GAYLE~ss; they lookfor some t~ime    with, may answer the character you give'em; but
Mr. Gaylesssorrowfully at each other.          Kitty. Is a man, Madam.
Gay. Oh, Sharp!.         Mel. I hope so, Kitty, or I would have nothing
Sharp. Oh, master!                       to do with him.
Gay. We are certainly undone!               Kitty. With all my heart. I have given you
Sharp. That's no news to me.              my sentiments upon the occasion, and shall leave
Gay. Eight or ten couple of dancers-ten or you to your own inclinations.
a dozen little nice dishes, with some fruit —my    Mel. Oh, Madam, I am much obliged to you
lord Stately's servants-ham and turkey!      for your great condescension; ha, ha, ha! HowSharp. Say no more; the very: sound creates ever, I have so great a regard for your opinion,
an appetite: and I am sure, of late, I have had no that had I certain proofs of his villanyoccasion for whetters and provocatives.        Iitty. Of his poverty you may have a hunGay. Cursed misfortune! what can we do?    dred; I am sure I have had none to the contrary.
Sharp. Hang ourselves; I see no other reme-   Mel. Oh, there the shoe pinches:  [Aside.
dy; except you have a receipt to give a ball and a   Kitty. Nay, so far from giving me the usual
supper without meat or music.                perquisities of my place, he has not so much as
Gay. Melissa has certainly heard of my bad kept me in temper with little endearing civilities;
circumstances, and has invented this scheme to and one might reasonably expect, when a man
distress me, and break off this match.       is deficient one way, that he should make it up
Sharp. I don't believe it, Sir; begging your in another.                  [A knocking.
pardon.                                        Mel. See who's at the door. [Exit KI TTY.] I
Gay. No! why did her maid then make so must be cautious how I hearken too much to this
strict an inquiry into my fortune and affairs?  girl; her bad opinion of Mr. Gayless seems, to
Sharp. For two very substantial reasons; the arise from his disregard of her.
first to satisfy a curiosity natural to her as       Re-enter K       a
woman: the second, to have the pleasure of my
conversation, very natural to her as a woman of So, Sharp, have you found your master? Will
taste and understanding.                    things be ready for the ball and entertainment.
Gay. Pr'ythee be more serious: is not our all   Sharp. To your wishes, Madam. I have just
at stake?                                   now bespoke the music and the supper, and wait
Sharp. Yes, Sir; and yet that all of ours is of now for your ladyship's further commands.
so little consequence, that a man with a very   Mel. My compliments to your master, and let
small share of philosophy, may part from it with- him know I and my company will be with him
out much pain or uneasiness. However, Sir, I'll by six; we design to drink tea, and play at cards,
convince you, in half an hour, that Mrs. Melissa before we dance.
knows nothing of your circumstances. And I'll   Kitty. So  shall I and  my  company, Mr.
tell you whattoo, Sir; she shan't be here to-night, Sharp.                        [Aside.
and yet you shall marry her to-morrow morning.   Sharp. Mighty well, Madam!       [Aside.
Gay. How, how, dear Sharp?                  M2rel. Pr'ythee, Sharp, what makes you come
Sharp.'Tis here, here, Sir! warm,.warm; and  without your coat?'Tis too cool to go so airy,
delays will cool it; therefore I'll away to her, and  sure.




SCSNE Im]                  fr HE LYING VALET.                                      27
Kitty. Mr. Sharp, Madam, is of a very hot violence, that, being half delirious I made a full
constitution; ha, ha, ha!                   confession.
Sharp. If it had been ever so cool, I have had    Mel.'A full confession! What did you confess?
enough to warm me since I came from home, I'm    Sharp. That my master loved fornication:
sure; but no matter for that.       [Sighs. that you had no aversion to it; that Mrs. Kitty
Mel. What d'ye mean?                      was a bawd, and your humble servant a pimp.
Sharp. Pray don't ask me Madam; I beseech   Kitty. A bawd! a bawd! Do I look like a
you don't: let me change. the subject.       bawd, Madam?
IKitty. Insist upon knowing it Madam.-My    Sharp. And so, Madam, in the scuffle, my
curiosity must be satisfied, or I shall burst. [Aside. coat was torn to pieces, as well as your reputation.
MAel. I do insist upon "knowing; on pain of   Mel. And so you joined to make me infamous!
my displeasure, tell me!                       Sharp. For heaven's sake, Madam, what could
Sharp. If my master should know-I must not I do?  His proofs fell so thick upon me, as wittell you, madam, indeed.                     ness my head, [Shows his head, plastered,] that
Mel. I promise you, upon my honour, he never I would have given up all the reputations in the
shall.                                       kingdom rather than have my brains beat to a
Sharp. But can your ladyship insure secrecy  jelly.
from that quarter?                            Mel. Very well!-But I'll be revenged. And
Iitty. Yes, Mr. Jackanapes, for any thing you did not you tell your master of this 2
can say.                                       Sharp. Tell him! No, madam. Had I told
Mel. I engage for her.                     him, his love is so violent for you, that he would
Sharp. Why then, in short, Madam —I cannot certainly have murdered half the attorneys in
tell you.                                    town by this time.
Mel. Don't trifle with me.                   Mel. Very well!-But I'm resolved not to go
Sharp. Then since you will have it, Madam, to your master's to-night.
I lost my coat in defence of your reputation.  Sharp. Heavens, and my impudence be praisliel. In defence of my reputation  ed!                                          [Aside.
Sharp. I will assure you, Madam, I've suffer-   Kitty. Why not, Madam?   If you are not
ed very' much in defence of it; which is more guilty, face your accusers.
than I would have done for my own.             Sharp. Oh, the devil! ruined again! [Aside.
Mel. Pr'ythee explain.                     To be sure, face'em  by all means, Madam:
Sharp. In short, Madam, you was seen, about they can but be abusive, and break the windows
a month ago, to make a visit to my master, alone. a little. Besides, Madam, I have thought of a
Mel. Alone! my servant was with me.       way to make this affair quite diverting to you: I
Sharp. What, Mrs. Kitty?  So much the have a fine blunderbuss, charged with half a
worse; for she was looked upon as my property; hundred slugs, and my master has a delicate,
and I was brought in guilty, as well as you and large Swiss broad-sword; and between us, Madam.
my master.                                   we shall so pepper and slice'em, that you will
Kitty. What,your property, jackanapes?    die with laughing.
Mel. What is all this?. AIel. What, at murder?
Sharp. Why, madam, as I came out but now:Kitty. Don't fear, Madam, there will be no
to make preparation for you and your company murder if Sharp'sconcerned.
to-night, Mrs. Pryabout, the-attorney's wife at   Sharp. Murder, Madam!'Tis self-defence:
next door,- calls to me: " Harkye, fellow!" says besides in these sort of skirmishes, there are never
she, "do you and your modest master know that more than two or three killed: for, supposing they
my husband shall indict your house, at the next bring the whole body of militia upon us, down
parish' meeting, for a nuisance'"           but with a brace of them, and away fly the rest
Mcl. A nuisance!                          of the covey.
Sharp. I said so-" A nuisance! I believe none   Mel. Persuade me ever so much, I wont go;
in the neighbourhood live with more decency and that's my resolution.
regularity than I and my master;" as is really the   Kitty. Why then, I'll tell you what, Madam;
case.-" Decency and regularity!" cries she, with since you are resolved not to go to the supper,
a sneer —" why, Sirrah, does not my window look suppose the supper was to come to you:'tis great
into your master's bed-chamber?  And did not pity such great preparations as Mr. Sharp has
he bring in a certain' lady, such a day?" describing made should be thrown away.
you, Madam,-" And did not I see    "           Sharp. So it is, as you say, Mrs. Kitty; but
Alel. See! 0 -scandalous! What?         I can immediately run back and unbespeak what
Sharp. Modesty requires my silence.        I have ordered;'tis soon done.
Mel. Did not you contradict her 2            AMlel. But then what excuse can I send to your
Sharp. Contradict her! Why, I told her I master?  he'll be very uneasy at my not coming.
was sure she lied: "for zounds!"' said I, for I   Sharp. Oh terribly so -But I have it: I'll tell
could not help swearing," -:'I am sowell convinced him that you were suddenly taken with the vaof the lady's and my master's prudence, that I am  pours, or qualms, or what you please, Madam.
sure had they a mind to amuse themselves, they   Mel. I'll leave it to you, Sharp, to make my
would certainly have drawn the window-curtains." apology; and there's half-a-guinea for you to
Mel. What,'did you say nothing else?t Did help your invention.
not you convince her of her error and imperti-   Sharp. Half-a-guinea!-'Tis so long since I
nence.                       had any thing to do with money, that I scarcely
Sharp. She swore to such things, that I could know the current coin of my own country. Oh,
do nothing butswear and call names: upon which, Sharp, what' talents hast thou! to secure thy
out bolts her husband upon me, with a fine' taper master, deceive his mistress, out-lie her chambercrab in his hand, and fell upon me with such maid, and yet be paid for thy honesty.-But my




28                          THE LYING VALET.                                   [ACT II.
joy will discover me. [Aside.] Madam, you have terity, that neither your circumstances, nor my ve
eternally fixed Timothy Sharp, your most obedi- racity are suspected.
ent, humble servant.-Oh, the delights of impu-   Gay. But how hast thou excused me from the
dence and a good understanding!              ball and entertainment?
[Aside, and exit.   Sharp. Beyond expectation, Sir.  But in
Kitty. Ha, ha, ha! Was there ever such a that particular, I was obliged to have recourse to
lying varlet! with his slugs and his broad-swords, truth, and declare the real situation of your affairs.
his attorneys and broken heads and nonsense!-  I told her we had so long disused ourselves to
Well, Madam, are you satisfied now? Do you dressing either dinners or suppers, that I was
want more proofs?                           afraid we should'be but awkward in our preparaMel. Of your modesty I do; but I find you tions. In short, Sir, at that instant a cursed
are resolved to give me none.                gnawing seized my stomach, that I could not help
Kitty. Madam!                              telling her, that both you and myself seldom made
Mel. I see through your little mean artifice: a good meal, now-a-days, once in a quarter of a
you are endeavouring to lessen Mr. Gayless in year.
my opinion, because he has not paid you for ser-   Gay. Hell and confusion! have you betrayed
vices he had no occasion for.                me, villain. Did you not tell me, this moment, she
Kitty; Pay me, Madam! I am sure I have very did not in the least suspect my circumstances 
little occasion to be angry with Mr. Gayless for   Sharp. No more she did, Sir, till I told her.
not paying me, when, I believe,'tis his general   Gay. Very well!-And was this your skill and
practice.                                    dexterity?
Mel.'Tis false! He's a gentleman, and a man    Sharp. I was going to tell you, but you wont
of honour; and you are-                      hear reason. My melancholy face and piteous
Kitty. Not in love, I thank heaven!        narration had such an effect upon her generous
[Courtesies. bowels, that she freely forgives all that's past.
Mel. You are a fool.                         Gay. Does she Sharp?
Kitty. I have been in love, but I'm much wiser   Sharp. Yes, and desires never to see your face
now.                                         again; and, as a further consideration for so doing,
Mel. Hold your tongue, impertinence!       she has sent you half-a-guinea.
Kitty. That's the severest thing she has said                         [Shows the money,
yet.                                 [Aside.   Gay. What do you mean?
Mel. Leave me.                               Sharp. To spend it, spend it, Sir, and regale.
Kitty. Oh, this love, this love, is the devil!  Gay. Villain,you have undone me!
[Exit.   Sharp. What, by bringing you money, when
Mel. We discover our weakness to our servants, you are-not worth a farthing in the whole world?
make them our confidents, put'em upon an equa- Well, well, then to make you happy again, I'll
lity'with us, and so they become our advisers. keep it myself; and wish somebody would take
Sharp's behaviour, though I seemed to disregard it in their head to load me with such misfortunes.
it, makes me tremble with apprehensions; and                          [Puts up the money.
though I have pretended to be angry with Kitty    Gay. Do you laugh at me, rascal?
for her advice, I think it of too much consequence    Sharp. Who deserves more to be laughed at?
to be neglected.                             ha, ha, ha!-Never for the future, Sir, dispute the
success of my negociations, when even you, who
Re-enter KITTY.                know me so well, can't help swallowing my hook.
Kitty. May I speak, Madam.       Why, Sir, I could have played with you backMel. Don't be a fool. What do you want'. wards and forwards, at the end of my line, till I
Kitty. There is a servant, just come out of had put your senses into such a fermentation,
the country, says he belongs to Sir William  Gay- that you should not have known, in an hour's
less, and has got a letter for you, from his master, time, whether you was a fish or a man.
upon very urgent business.                     Gay. Why what is all this you have been tellMel. Sir William Gayless! What can this ing me 
mean? Where is the man?                      Sharp. A downright lie, from  beginning to
Kitty. In the little parlour, Madam.      end.
Mel. I'll go to him.-My heart flutters strange-   Gay. And have you really excused me to her?
ly.                                  [Exit.   Sharp. No, Sir; but I have got this half-guinea
Kitty. 0 woman, woman, foolish woman! to make her excuses to you; and instead of a
She'll certainly have this Gayless: nay, were she confederacy between you and me to deceive her,
as well convinced of his poverty as I am, she'd  she thinks she has brought me over to put the
have him. Here is she going to throw  away deceit upon you.
fifteen thousand pounds-upon what?  He's a    Gay. Thou excellent fellow..
man and that's all; and, heaven knows, mere man    Sharp. Don't lose time, but slip out of the house
is but a small consolation now-a-days!   [Exit. immediately-the back way, I believe, will be the
safest for you-and to her as fast as you can;
ACT II.                    pretend vast surprise and concern that her indisposition has debarred you the pleasure of her corn
SCENE L                     pany here to-night. You need know no more,Enter GAYLESS and SHARP.            away 
Gay. But what shall we do, Sharp? Here's
Gay. Pr'ythee be serious, Sharp: hast thou her maid again.
really succeeded?                             Sharp. The devil she is! I wish Icould poison
Sharp. To our wishes, Sir. In short, I have lier: for I'm sure while she lives 1 can never
managed the business with such skill and dex- prosper.




SBENE I.]                    THE LYING VALET.                                       29
Enter KITTY.                    Gay. Your words have done it effectually.
Kitty. Your door was open, so I did not stand  Re-enter KITTY, with MRS. GADABOUT, her
upon ceremony.                                 Daughter, and Niece; JUSTICE  GUTTLE,
Gay. I am sorry to hear your mistress is taken    TRIPPET, and MRS. TRIPPET.
so suddenly-                                   Mrs. G. Ah, my dear Mr. Gayless!
Kitty. Vapours, vapours only, Sir; a few ma-                                [Kisses him.
trimonial omens, that's all: but I suppose Mr.   Gay. My dear widow!          [Kisses her.
Sharp has made her excuses.                    Mrs. G. We are come to give you joy, Mr.
Gay. And tells me I can't have the pleasure of Gayless; and here's Mr. Guttle come to give
her company to-night. I had made a small pre- you joy.-Mr. Gayless, Justice Guttle.
paration; but'tis no matter: Sharp shall go to   Sharp. Oh, destruction! one of the quorum.
the rest of the company, and let them know'tis                                   [Aside.
put off:                                       Just. G. Hem! though I had not the honour
Kitty. Not for the world, Sir: my mistress was of any personal knowledge of you, yet, at the insensible you must have provided for her, and the stigation of Mrs. Gadabout, I have, without any
rest of the company; so she is resolved, though  previous acquaintance with you, thrown aside all:she can't, the other ladies and gentlemen shall ceremony, to let you know that I joy to hear the
partake of your entertainment.-She's very good- solemnization of your nuptials is so near at hand.
natured.                                        Gay. Sir, though I cannot answer you with
Sharp. I had better run and let'em know'tis the same elocution, however, Sir, I thank you
deferred.                           [Going. with the same sincerity.
Kitty. [Stops him.] I have been with'em al-   Mrs. G. Mr. and Mrs. Trippet, Sir; the proready, and told them my mistress insists upon  perest lady in the world for your purpose, for
their coming; and they have already promised to she'll dance for four-and-twenty hours together.
be here: so pray don't be under any apprehensions    Trip. My dear Charles, I am very angry with
that your preparations will be thrown away.  you, faith: so near marriage, and not let me know!
Gay. But as I can't have her company, Mrs.'twas barbarous.  You thought, 1 suppose, I
Kitty,'twill be a great pleasure to me, and a should rally you upon it; but dear Mrs. Trippet
greater compliment to her, to defer our mirth; be- here has long ago eradicated all my anti-matrimosides, I can't enjoy any thing at present, and she nial principles.
not partake of it.                             Kitty. Pray ladies, walk into the next room;.Kitty. Oh, no, to be sure; but what can I do? Mr. Sharp can't lay his cloth till you are set down
My mistress will have it so! and Mrs. Gadabout, to cards.
and the rest of the company, will be here in a   l/lMrs. G. One thing I had quite forgot: Mr.
few minutes: there are two or three coachfuls of Gayless, my nephew, who you never saw, will be,om.                                         in town from France presently; so I left word to
Sharp. Then my master must be ruined, in send him here immediately, to make one.
spite of my parts.                   [Aside.   Gay. You do me honour, Madam.
Gay.'Tis all over, Sharp.        [Apart.   Sharp. Do the ladies choose cards or supper
Sharp. I know it, Sir.             [Apart. first -
Gay. I shall go distracted! what shall I do'  Gay. Supper! What does the fellow mean'
[Apart.                                      [Aside.
Sharp. Why, Sir, as our rooms are a little out   Just. G. Oh, the supper by all means; for I
of furniture at present, take'em into the captain's, have eat nothing to signify since dinner.
that lodges here, and set'em down to cards: if   Sharp. Nor I, since last Monday was a forthe should come in the mean time, I'll excuse you night.                           [Aside.
to him.                              [Apart.   Gay. Pray, ladies, walk into the next room.Kitty. I have disconcerted their affairs, I find. Sharp get things ready for supper, and call the
I'll have some sport with them. [Aside.] Pray, music.
Mr. Gayless, don't order too many things: they    Sharp. Well said, master.
only make you a friendly visit; the more ceremo-   MIrs. G. Without ceremony, ladies.
ny, you know, the less welcome. Pray, Sir, let     [Exeunt GAYLESS, TRIPPET, and Ladies.
me entreat you not to be profuse. If I can be   Kitty. I'll to my mistress; and let her know
of service, pray command me; my mistress has every thing is ready for her appearance.
sent me on purpose. While Mr. Sharp is doing                              [Aside, and exit.
the business without doors, I may be employed   Just. G. Pray Mr.-what's your name, don't
within. If you'll lend me the keys of your side- be long with supper:-but harkye, what can I do
board, I'll dispose of your plate to the best advan- in the mean time' suppose you get me a pipe
tage.                            [To SHARP. and some good wine; I'll try to divert myself
Sharp. Thank you Mrs. Kitty; but it is dis- that way till supper's ready.
posed of already.               [A knocking.   Sharp. Or suppose, Sir, you was to take a nap
Kitty. Bless me the company's come! I'll go till then: there's a very easy couch in that closet.
to the door and conduct them into your presence.   Just. G. The best thing in the world! I'll take
[Exit. your advice; but be sure to wake me when supper
Sharp. If you'd conduct them  into a horse- is ready.                            [Exit.
pond, and wait on them there yourself, we should   Sharp. Pray heaven, you may not wake till
be more obliged to you.                      then!-What a fine situation my master is in at
Gay. I can never support this!            present! I have promised him my assistance; but
Sharp. Rouse your spirits, and put on an air his affairs are in so desperate a way, that I am
of gayety, and I don't despair of bringing you off afraid'tis out of my skill to recover them. Well,
yet.                                         "Fools have fortune," says an old proverb, ani a
3*




30                          THE LYING VALET.                                   [ACTII.
very true one it is; for my master and I are two Re-enter GAYLESS, TRIPPET, and MRS. GADA.
of the most unfortunate mortals in the creation.  BOUT, with MELISSA, in boys' clothes, dressed i'n
the French manner.
Re-enter GAYLESS.
Gay. Well, Sharp, I have set them down to   Mfrs. G. WMell, but my dear Jemmy, you are
cards; and now what have you to propose'.    not hurt, sure?
Sharp. I have one scheme left, which in all   Mel. A little, with riding post only.
probability may succeed.  The good citizen,   AIrs. G. Mr. Sharp alarmed us all, with an
overloaded with his last meal, is taking a nap in account of your being set upon by four men;
that closet, in order to get him an appetite -for'that you had killed two, and was attacking -the
yours. I'll pick his pocket, and provide us a other when he came away; and when we met
supper with the booty.  -                    you at the door, we- were running to your rescue.
Gay. Monstrous! for, without considering the    Mel. I had a small rencounter with half a
villany of it, the danger of waking him makes it dozen villains; but finding me resolute they were
impracticable,                               wise enough to take to their -heels. I believe I
Sharp.' If he wakes, I'll smother him, and lay scratched some of them.  -
his death to indigestion: a very common death                 [Lays her hand to her sword.
among the: justices.                           Sharp. His vanity has saved my credit.  I
Gay. Pr'ythee, be serious; we have no time to have a thought come into my head: may prove to
lose.  Can you invent nothing to drive them out our advantage, provided Monsieur's ignorance
of the house  -                              bears any proportion to his impudence.  [Aside.
Sharp. I can fire it.  -lMrs. G. Now my fright is over, let me intro- Gay. - Shame and confusion so perplex me, i duce you, my dear, to Mr. Gayless. Sir, this is
cannot give myself a moment's thought.       my nephew.
Sharp. 1 have it; did not Mrs. Gadabout say    Gay. Sir, I shall be proud of your friendship.
her nephew -would be here?                                                   [Salutes her.
Gay. She did.                                Mel. I don't doubt but we shall be better- acSharp. Say no more, but in to your company. quainted in a little time.
If I don't send them out of the house for the   Just. G. Pray, Sir, what news in France?
night, I'll at least frighten their stomachs away;   Mel. Faith, very little that I know of in the
and if this stratagem fails, I'll relinquish politics, political way; I had no time to spend among the
and think my understanding no better than my politicians. I wasneighbours.                                     Gay. Among the ladies, I suppose?
Gay. How shall I reward thee, Sharp.        Mel. Too much indeed. Faith I have not
Sharp. By your silence and obedience. Away  philosophy enough to- resist their solicitations.
to your company, Sir. [Exit GAYLESS.] NOW, YOU take me?                [Apart to GAYLESS.
dear Madam Fortune, for once open your eyes,   Gay. Yes, to be a most incorrigible fop. [Aside.]
and behold a poor unfortunate man of parts ad-'Sdeath! this puppy's impertinence is an addition
dressing you. Now is your time to convince your to my misery.            [Apart to SHARP.
foes you are not that blind, whimsical whore they    Mel. Poor Gayless! to what shifts is he retake you for; but let them see, by your assisting  duced! I cannot bear to see him much longer in
me, that men of sense, as well as fools, are some- this condition; I shall discover myself.
times entitled to your favour and protection.-                  [Apart to MRS. GADABOUT.
[Goes aside, and cries out] Help, help, help,. Irs. G. Not before the-end of the play; bemaster! gentlemen, ladies! murder, fire, brim- sides, the more his pain now, the greater his pleastone i! help, help, help!                  sure when relieved from it.          [Apart.
Trip. Shall we return to our cards?  I have
Re-enter GAYLEss, TRIPPET, and the LADIES, a sans prendre here, and must insist you play it
with Cards in their hands,:and SHARP enters out.
running, and meets them.                     Ladies. With all my heart.
Gay. What's the matter  -.'               Mel. Alons donc.....
Sharp. Matter, Sir! If you don't run this:mi-    [As they go out, SHARP pulls MELISSA
nute with that gentleman, this lady's nephew will -           by the Sleeve.
oe murdered. I am sure'twas he; he was set   Sharp. Sir, sir, shall I beg leave to speak with
upon at the corner of the street by four; he has you?  Pray did you find a bank-note in your way
killed two; and if you don't make haste, he'll be hither    - -
either murdered or took to prison.  -          Mel. What between here and Dover, do you
Mrs. G. For heaven's sake, gentlemen, run to mean?
his assistance. How I tremble for Melissa! this   Sharp. No, Sir, within twenty or thirty yards
frolic of her's may be fatal.        [Aside. of this house.
Gay. Draw, Sir, and follow me.               Mel. You are drunk, fellow.
[Exeunt all but SHARP.   Sharp. I am undone, Sir, but not drunk, I'll
assure you.
Re-enter JUSTICE GUTTLE, disordered, as from   Ael. What-is all this?
sleep.                      Sharp. I'll tell you, Sir: a little while ago my
Just. G. What noise and confusion is this?    master sent me out, to change a note of twenty
Sharp. Sir, there's a man murdered in the pounds; but I unfortunately hearing a noise in
street.                                      the street of "damme, Sir!" and clashing of
Just. G. Is that all?  Zounds! I was afraid swords, and' rascal" and "'murder!' I runs up
you had thrown the supper down. A- plague of to the place, and saw four men upon one; and
our noise! I shan't recover my stomach- this half having heard you was a mettlesome young genhour.                                        tleman I immediately concluded it must be you:




COENE I.]                   THE L YIN G VA LET.                                     31
so ran back to call my master; and when I went his master's serivce. There never sure was a
to look for the note, to change it, I found it gone,. more faithful servant to his master, or a greater
either stole or lost: and if I don't get the money rogue to the rest of mankind-. But here he comes
immediately, I shall certainly be turned out of again. The plot thickens. I'll in and observe
my place, and lose my character.             Gayless.                              [Exit.
Mel. I shall laugh in his face. [Aside.] Oh, Re-enter SHARP, before several Persons with
I'll speak to your master about it, and he will for-   Dishes in their hands, and a COOK, drunk.
give you at my intercession.
eSharp. Ah, Sir! you don't know my master.    Sharp. Fortune, I thank thee; the most lucky
Sharp  Ah, Sir! you don't know m  master.  accident! [Aside.] This way, gentlemen, this
Mel. I'm very little acquainted with him, but
I have heard he's a very good natured man.    ay
Cook. 1 am afraid I have mistook thehouse.
Sharp. 1 have heard so too, but I have felt it Is this Mr. Treatwell's.
otherwise;* he has so much good nature, thatwell's i
otherwise; he has so much good nature, that if I   Sharp. The same, the same. *What, don't you
could compound for one broken head a day, I know mel
should think myself very well off.
Meshouldthink myou self very well off        Cook. Know you? —Are you sure there was
Mel. Are you serious, friend?             a
Sharp. Lookye, Sir, I take you for a man of   supper bespoke here 2
honour; there is something in your face -that is   Sharp. Yes; upon my honour, Mr. Cook: the
generous, open, and masculine; you don't look company is in the next room, and must have gone
without had not you brought it. -I'll draw a
ike a foppish, effeminate tell-tale; so I'll venture without hadI ee you have brought it. loth'll draw a
to trust you. See here, Sir, these are the effects.  I see you have brought a cloth with you;
of my master's good nature.   [Showts hos head. but you need not have done that, for we have a
Mel atchlessimpudence  ide.] Why do very good stock of linen-at the pawnbroker's.
myou  lv   e with him th enc, after such usage   Aside, and exit; but returns immediately,
harp. l e't  worhthe  a great deal of moneyr  drawing in a table.] Come, come, my boys, be
Sharp. He's worth a great deal of money; quick. The company begin to be very uneasy;
and when he's drunk, which is commonly once but I knew my old friend Lickspit here would
a day, he's very free, and will give me any thing  not fail us.
but I design to leave him when he's married, for   Cook. Lickspit! I am no friend of yours, so I
all that.                                      Cook. Lickspit! I am no friend of yours, so I
all that.
Mel. Is he going to be married then?       desire less familiarity.-Lickspit too!
Sharp. To-morrow, Sir; and between you and              Re-enter GAYLESS.
I, he'll meet with his match, both for humour and    Gay. What is all this?  [Apart to Sharp.
something else too.                            Sharp. Sir, if the sight of the supper is offenMel. What,she drinks too 2                 sive, I can easily have it removed.  [Apart.
Sharp. Damnably, Sir; but mum. You must   Gay. Pr'ythee, explain thyself Sharp. [Apart.
know this entertainment was designed for Madam    Sharp. Some of our neighbours, I suppose,
to-night; but she got so very gayafter dinner, that have bespoke this supper; but the cook has drank
she could not walk out of her own house; so her away his memory, forgot the house, and brought
maid, who was half gone too, came here with an it here: however, Sir, if you dislike it, I'll tell
excuse, that Mrs. Melissa had got the vapours; him of his mistake, and send him about his buand so she had indeed violently, here, here, Sir.  siness.                        [Apart.
[Points to his head.   Gay. Hold, hold, necessity obliges me against
Mel. This is scarcely to be borne. [Aside.] mv inclination to favour the: cheat, and feast at
Melissa! I have heard of her: they say she's m'y neighbour's expense.             [Apart.
very whimsical.                                Cook. Hark you, friend, is that your master?
Sharp.; A very woman, and please your honour;                               [ To SHARP.
and between -you and I, none of the mildest and    Sharp. Ay, and the best master in the world.
"wisest of her sex.  But to return, Sir, to the    Cook. I'll speak to him then.-Sir, I have, actwenty pounds.                               cording to your commands, dressed as genteel a
Mel. I am surprised, you, who have got so supper as my art and your price would admit of.
mhiuch money in his service, should be at a loss                                [ To GAY
for twenty pounds, to save your bones at this   Sharp. Good again, Sir!'tis paid for.
juncture.                                                                  [Apart to GAY.
Sharp. I have put all my money out at inter-   Gay. I don't in the least question your abilities,
est; I never keep above five pounds by me; and  Mr. Cook; and I am obliged to you for your care.
if your honour wo'ild lend me the other fifteen,   Cook. Sir, you are a gentleman; and if you
and take my note for it-       [A knocking. would but look over the bill, and approve it, you
Mel. Somebody's at the door.               will over and above return the obligation.
Sharp. I can give very good security.                                  [Pulls out a bill.
[A knocking.   Sharp. Oh, the devil!
Mel. Don't let the people wait, Mr.-         Gay. [Looks on the bill.] Very well, I'll send
Sharp. Ten pounds will do.    [A knocking. my man to pay you to-morrow.
Mel. Allez vous en.                          Cook. I'll spare him that trouble, and take it
Sharp. Five, Sir.            [A knocking. with me, Sir. I never work but for ready money.
Mel. Je ne puis pas.                         Gay. Ha!
Sharp. Je ne puis pas. I find we shan't un-   Sharp. Then you wont have our custom.
derstand one another; I do but lose time; and [Aside.] My master is busy now, friend. Do
if I had any thought, I might have known these you think he wont pay you?
young fops return from their travels generally   Cook. No matter what I think; either my meat
with as little money as improvement.    [Exit. or my money.
Mel. Ha, ha, ha! What lies does this fellow    Sharp.'Twill be very ill-convenient for him to
invent, and what rogueries does he commit, for pay you to-night.




32                          THE LYING VALET.                                   [ACT II
Co.?k. Then I'm afraid it will be ill-convenient twenty pounds, which I sent him to receive; and
to pay me to-morrow; so, d'ye hear-          the bankers' shops being shut up, and having very
little cash by me, I should be very much obliged
to you, if you would favour me with twenty pieces
Gay. Pr'ythee, be advised.-'Sdeath, I shall be till to-morrow.
discovered!          [Takes the COOK aside.   Mel. Oh, Sir, with all my heart: [ Takes out,Mel. What's the matter!  [To SHARP. her purse.] and as I have a small favour to beg
Sharp. The cook has not quite answered my of you, Sir, the obligation will be mutual.
master's expectations about the supper, Sir, and    Gay. How may I oblige you, Sir?
he's a little angry at him; that's all.       Mel. You are to be married, I hear, to Melissa'
Mel. Come, come, Mr. Gayless, don't be uneasy;   Gay. To-morrow, Sir.
a bachelor cannot be supposed to have things in   Mel. Then you'll oblige me, Sir, by never seethe utmost regularity; we don't expect it.  ing her again.
Cook. But I do expect it, and will have it.  Gay. Do you call this a small favour, Sir 2
Mel. What does this drunken fool say 2       M Alel. A mere trifle, Sir. Breaking of contracts,
Cook. That [ will have my money, and I wont suing for divorces, committing adultery, and such
stay till to-morrow, and-and-                like are all reckoned trifles now-a-days; and
Sharp. Hold, hold! what are you doing? are smart young fellows, like you and myself, Gayless,
you mad  [Runs and stops his mouth. should be never out of fashion.
Mel. What do you stop the man's breath for 2    Gay. But pray, Sir, how are you concerned in
Sharp. Sir, he was going to call you names. this affair 2
Don't be abusive, cook; the gentleman is a man   Mel. Oh, Sir, you must know I have a very
of honour, and said nothing to you. Pray be pa- great regard for Melissa, and indeed she for me;
dfied. You are in liquor.                    and, by the by, 1 have a most despicable opinion
Cook. I will have my-                     of you; for, entre nous, I take you, Charles, t}
Sharp. [Still holding.] Why, I tell you, fool, be a very great scoundrel.
you mistake the gentleman; he is a friend of   Gay. Sir!
my master's, and has not said a word to you.-   Mel. Nay, don't look fierce, Sir, and give yourPray, good Sir, go into the next room. The fel- self airs-damme, Sir, I shall be through your
low'sdrunk, and takes you for another. [ To ME- body else in the snapping of a finger.
LISSA.] You'll repent this when you are sober,   Gay. I'll be as quick as you, villain.
friend.-Pray, Sir, don't stay to hear his imperti-         [Draws, and makes at MELISSA.
nence.                                         Kitty. Hold, hold, murder! you'll kill my misGay. Pray, Sir, walk in. He's below your tress-the young gentleman, I mean.
anger.                         [To MELISSA.   Gay. Ah! her mistress!   [Drops his sword.
Mel. Damn the rascal! what does he mean by    Sharp. How! Melissa! Nay, then drive away,
affronting me?-Let the scoundrel go; I'll polish cart; all's over now.
his brutality, I warrant you. Here's the best
reformer of manners in the universe. [Draws        Enter all the Company, laughing.
his sword.] Let him go, I say.
Sharp. So, so, you have done finely now.-Get   Mrs. G. What, Mr. Gayless, engaging with
away as fast as you can. He's the most coura- Melissa before your time 2 Ha, ha, ha!
geous, mettlesome man in all England. Why, if   Kitty. Your humble servant, good Mr. Politihis passion was up, he could eat you.-Make  cian. [To SHARP.] This is, gentlemen and ladies,
your escape you fool.                       the most celebrated and ingenious Timothy Sharp,
Cook. I wont.-Eat me! He'll find me damned schemer-general and redoubted squire to the most
hard of digestion, though.                  renowned  and fortunate adventurer, Charles
Sharp. Pr'ythee, come here; let me speak with Gayless, knight of the woeful countenance-ha,
you.                     [Takes COOK aside. ha, ha!-Oh that dismal face, and more dismal
head of yours!  [Strikes SHARP upon the head.
Sharp.'Tis cruel in you to disturb a man in
Kitty. Gad's me! Is supper on the table alrea- his last agonies.
dy'i-Sir, pray defer it for a few minutes; my   Mel. Now, Mr. Gayless!-What, not a word 
mistress is much better, and will be here immedi- You are sensible I can be no stranger to your
ately.                                       misfortunes, and I might reasonably expect an
Gay. Will she, indeed?  Bless me, I did not excuse for your ill treatment of me.
epect-but however-Sharp!                      Gay. No, Madam, silence is my only refuge;
Kitty. What success, Madam?               for to endeavour to vindicate my crimes, would
[Apart to MELISSA. show a greater want of virtue, than even the
Mel As we could wish, girl: but he is in such commission of them.
pain and perplexity, I can't hold it out much lon-   Mel. Oh, Gayless!'twas poor to impose upon
ger.                                         a woman, and one that loved you too.
Kitty. Ay, and that holding out is the ruin of   Gay. Oh, most unpardonable; but my necee
half our sex.                                sitiesSharp. I have pacified the cook; and if you   Sharp. And mine, Madam, were not to be
oan but borrow twenty pieces of that young prig, matched, I'm sure, o'this side starving.
all may go well. You may succeed, though I   Mel. His tears have softened me at once.
could not. Remember what I told you. —About [Aside.] Your necessities, Mr. Gayless, with such
it straight, Sir.        [Apart to GAYLESS. real contrition, are too powerful motives not to
Gay. Sir, sir, I beg to speak a word with you. affect the breast already prejudiced in your fa[ To MELISSA.] My. servant, Sir, tells me he has vour.-You have suffered too much already for
Sad the misfortune, Sir, to lose a note of mine of your extravagance; and as I take part in your




SCENIE.]                    THE LYING VALET.                                       33
sufferings,'tis easing myself to relieve you: conversant with cash than you have been, I am
know, therefore, all that's past I freely forgive.   now, with the greatest sincerity, your most obe
Gay. You cannot mean it, sure! I am lost in dient friend, and humble servant.
wonder!                                        Gay. Oh, Mrs. Pry, 1 have been too much inMel. Prepare yourself for more wonder. You dulged with forgiveness myself, not to forgive
have another friend in masquerade here. Mr. lesser offences in other people.
Cook, pray throw aside your drunkenness, and   Sharp. Well then, Madam, since my master
make your sober appearance.-Don't you know  has vouchsafed pardon to your handmaid Kitty, 1
that face, Sir?                             hope you'll not deny it to his footman Timothy.
Cook. Ay, master; what! you have forgot your   Mel. Pardon! for what?
friend, Dick, as you used to call me'         Sharp. Only for telling you about ten thousand
Gay. More wonder indeed! Don't you live with  lies, Madam; and, among the rest, insinuating
my father?                                   that your ladyship wouldMel. Just after your hopeful servant there had    Mel. I understand you; and can forgive any
left me, comes this man from Sir William, with  thing Sharp, that was designed for the'service of
a letter to me; upon which (being by that wholly your master; and if Pry and you will follow our
convinced of your necessitous condition ) I in- example, I'll give her a small fortune, as a reward
vented, by the help of Kitty and Mrs. Gadabout, for both your fidelities.
this little plot, in which your friend Dick there    Sharp. I fancy, Madam,'twould be better to
has acted miracles, resolving to tease you a little, halve the small fortune between us, and keep us
that you might have a greater relish for a happy both single; for as we shall live in the same house,
turn in your affairs. Now, Sir, read that letter, in all probability we may taste the comforts of
and complete your joy.                       matrimony and not be troubled with its inconveniences. What say you,. Kitty?
Gay.. [Reads.] Madam, I am father to the un-   Kitty. Do you hear, Sharp; before you talk of
fortunate young man, who, I hear, by a friend  the comforts of matrimony, take the comforts of
qf mine (that by my desire has been a continual a good dinner, and recover your flesh a: little; do
spy upon him) is making his addresses to you. If  puppy.
he is so happy as to make himself agreeable to   Sharp. The devil backs her, that's certain
you, whose character Iam charmed with, I shall and I am no match for her at any weapon.
ovn him with joy for my son, and forget his                                      [Aside
former follies.-I am, madam, your most humble    Gay. Behold, Melissa, as sincere a convert as
servant,                 WILLIAM GAYLESS. ever truth and beauty made. The wild, impetuP. S. —I will be soon in town rmyself to con- ous sallies of my youth are now blown over, and
gratulate his reformation and marriage.      a most pleasing calm of perfect happiness succeeds.
Oh, Melissa, this is too much!  Thus let me
show my thanks and gratitude; for here'tis only Thus AEtna's flames the verdant earth consume,
due.                [Kneels; she raises him. But milder heat makes drooping nature bloom;
Sharp. A reprieve! a reprieve! a reprieve!    So virtuous love affords us springing joy,
Kitty. I have been, Sir, a most bitter enemy to Whilst vicious passions, as they burn, destroy.
you; but since you are likely to be a little more'              rXeunt.
VOL. I... E




TH E GRECIA-N: DAUGIHTE R:
A4 TRA4G 13D,,.Y.,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY ARTHUR MURPHYT.
RE MA REKS.
Taia tragedy.was produced: at. Drury: Lane in,1.72. A picture of-the. Roman-.harity, which Mr. Mr Murphy -no.
ticed- at the house:of a: celebrated:painter, w!herein the-centinel bursts- into: tears at:" The pious fraud: of charity
and love," first suggested the-idea to our author.
" Perhaps, of all the events recorded in history, that filial-piety; on which the fable of this play is:foundedi may
be: classed amongst the most affecting-yet it was-one of the most- hazardous for a dramatist to adlopt-  for nothing
less than-complete- skill could have-given to-thisisingular occurrence effectual force, joined-to becoming delicacy:
In this arduous effort, Mr. Murphy has evinced the most;exact judgment, and the nicest execut n." —Inchbald
DRAMATIS PERRS O-N-XE.
As originally acted; 1772.         DRURY LANE, 1813.
D.s.ONYSIUSt........P.....  a. r................... Mr. Raymond
EVANDE R,............., 1r. Barry.....                     Mr. Plope.
PHILOTAS,............... Mr. Reddish.......   Rae.
MELANTHON,..........Mr. Aickin.......       Mr. Powel.
PHoCIoN,..........         Mr. J. Aickin.....             Mr. Holland.
ARCAS,...........          Mr. Hurst.....  Mr. J. Wallack.
GREEK HERALD,..........       Packer.....M..............  r. R. Phillips.
CALIPPUS.........          Mr. Inchbald......Mr. Elringtn.
GREEK SOLDIER,.......... Mr. Davies.....r. Carr
OFFICER,.........          Mr. WTrheeler..M....Mr. Waldegrave.
EUPHRASIA,.......... Mrs. Barry.....                        Miss Smith.
ERIXENE........  Miss Platt..... Miss TidswelU.
SCENE-Syracuse.
ACT I.                       Groans in captivity?  In his own palace
Lives a sequester'd pris'ner? Oh! Philotas,
SCENE  I.                      If thou hast not renounc'd humanity,
Enter MELANTIHON and PHILOTAFA.           Let me behold my sovereign; once again
Admit me to his presence; let me see
1el. Yet, a moment; hear, Philotas, hear me. My royal master.
Phil. No more; it must not be.                   Phil. Urge thy suit no further;
Mel. Obdurate man!                             Thy words are fruitless; Dionysius' orders
Thus wilt thou spurn me, when a king distress'd, Forbid access; he is our sov'reign now;
A good, a virtuous, venerable king,'Tis his to give the law, mine to obey.
The father of his people, from a throne,           Mel. Thou canst not mean it: his to give the
Which long with every virtue he adorn'd,                  law!
Torn by a ruffian, by a tyrant's hand,           Detested spoiler!-his! a vile usurper!
34




SCENE.                  THE.GRE C IA:N~ DAUGH' ER.                                     3.[ave we forgot the elder Dionysius,        To where the elder Di6nysius -form'd:,
Surnam'd the Tyrant?. To Sicilia's throne     On the sharp summit of the pointed:-rock,
The mbonster waded through whole seas, of blood. Which overhangs the. deep;.a dungeon drear;Sore groaned' the land beneath his iron-rod.   Cell within' cell, a- labyrinth of horror,
Till rous'd at- length, Evander came from Greece, Deep cavern'd in the cliff  where many!aI wretchf
Like freedom'!s genius came, and- sent the tyrant,  Unseen by mortal eye has groan'd inangish,.
Stripp'd of the crown, and to his humble rank:   And died obscure, unpitied and-:unknown.
0ince more- reduc'd, to roam- for' vile subsistence;.-   Mel; Clandestine miurderer! Y'es- there:'s. the
A waid'iing'sophist, through the realms of Greece.       scene
Phil. Whate'er his right, to him in: Syracuse-  Of horrid-massacre. Fullioft I've wa-lkd,
All btend the knee; his the supreme dominions.  When all things lay in sleep and darkness hush'd.
And death and torment wait his sovereign- nod.   Yes, oft I've walk'd the: lonely sullen beach,
kMel. But soon' that power shall cease; behold  And heard the mournful sound of many a corse
his walls                        -      Plung'd from the rock -into the wave beneath,
Now close encircled by the Grecian bands-;      That murmurs on the shore. And-means he thus
Timoleon leads them on;. indignant Corinth.     To enda amonarch's life 2:: Oh grant my prayer;
Sends'her'avenger forth, array'd in terror,    My timely succour may protect his days:.
To hurl ambition from a throne usurp'd;         The guard is yours.- -
And' bid'all- Sicily resume her rights.          Phil. Forbear; thou plead'st' in. vainPhil. Thou w'ert a statesman once, Melanthon; And though I feel soft pity throbbing here,.
now,  -:          -.. Though each emotion prompts the gen'rous-deed`
Grown din with age, thy eye pervades no more   I must not yield; it were assurd: destruction.
The deep-laid' schemes which Dionysius plans-.;  Farewell, despatch a message to the Greeks;
Know, then a fleet from Carthage even now       I'll to my station; now, thou kinw'st. the worsts
Stems the rough billow; and. ere yonder suns. he.
That, no.w declining,.seeks the western wave;:   Mek Oh, lost Evander!.Losts Euphrasia- too!'
Shall to the shades of night resign the worldi    Htow, will her'gentle nature bear the- shockThou'lt see thie Punic sails in yonder bay,.    Of a dear father, thus in ling'ring pangs
Whose waters wash the Walls of Syracuse;-. A prey to famine, like the' veriest: wretch
Mel; Art thou a stranger to Timoleon's'name  Whom the hard hand of misery hath grip'd 1
Intent to plan, and circumspect to see          In vain she'll rage with, impotence of sorrow;
All possible events, he rushes on               Perhaps provoke her- fate: Greece arms in vain-;,
Resistless in his- course i Your boasted- master    All's lost; Evander dies.! 
Scarce stands at bay; each hour the strong blockade                                                    EnZter CALIPPUS.
Hems him in closer, and ere long thou'lt- view     Cal. Where is the king- 
Oppression's iron rod to fragments shiver'd!     Our troops,. that sallied to attack the foe,
The good Evander then-'Retire- disordered: to the eastern gate
Phil. Alas, Evander                           The Greeks pursue-: Timoleon- ridesin blood,
Will ne'er behold the golden time you look for!  i Arm,.arm, and meet their fury.
Mel, I ow! not beholdit! Say, Philotas, speak,   Mel. To the citadel
Hias the fell tyrant, have his felon murderers.- Direct thy footsteps-: Dionysius there
Phil. As yet, my. friend, Evander lives.      Marshals a chosen band.
Mel. And yet.Cl;- Do: thou call- forth
Thy dark, half-hinted purpose-lead me to him;  Thy hardy vet'rans;: haste, or all is lost!
If thou hast murdered him —-                                             [Exit; warlike music,
Phil. By heaven, he lives.!at.                 o't. houllforth
Phil. 13~y heaven, he lives.  -'     M SpIel. Now, ye just gods, now look propitious
Mel. Then bless me with one tender interview.,         down;.:.
Thrice has the sun gone. down since last these eyes Now give the Grecian sabre tenfold edge,
Have seen the good old king; say,, why is this. 7  And save a virtuous king!   [Warlike music.
Wherefore debarr'd his presence? Thee, Philotas,:            E      
The troops obey, -that guard the royal pris'ner;Enter E
Each avenue to thee is open; thou.         Euph. -War on, ye heroes,
Canst grant admittance; let me, let me, see him.  Ye great assertors of -a monarch's cause: 
Phil. Entreat no more; the soul of Dionysius Let the wild tempest rage. Melanthon, ha!
Is ever wakeful; rent with all the pangs        Didst thou not hear the vast tremendous roar I
That wait on conscious guilt..         Down tumbling from, its base -the eastern tower
_Miel. But when dun night-                     Burst on the tyrant's ranks, and on the -plain
Phil. Alas it cannot be: but mark my words.  Lies an extended -ruin.
Let Greece urge on her general assault.           Mel..Still new horrors 
Despatch some friend, who may o'erleap the walls, Increase each hour, and gather round'our heads.
And tell Timoleon, -th'egood old Evander          Euph.  The -glorious -tumult lifts -my tow'ring
Has liv'd three:days,,by Dionysius' rder,              soul.
Lock'd up from every sustenance of nature,      Once more, Melanthon' once againT:hyfathaer -
And iUfe'hon6w vearedd out, alihost expires.  -  Shallmount Sicilia's throne.
Mel. If any' spark of virtue dwells within thee,   MIel. Alas! that hour           ~ -
Lead me, Philotas, lead me to his prison.       Would come with joy to:every honest heart;
Phil. The tyrant's4jealous care.hath mov'd him.But no such hour in all the: round-oftime,.thencei:.    -..s. tI fear the fates, averse, will e'er:lead: on,
Mel. Ha! movY  h~im, say'st thou? i'           Euph. And still Melanthon, still does pale do
Phil. At.the midnight hour,.             spair..-.   a.. 
Silent canve.v'd him up the steep ascent,   -    Depress thy spirit?  Lo!. Timoleon comes




36                    THE GRE.CIA;N DAUGHTER.                                  [Acr lt.
Arm'd with the power of GreeCe; the brave, the   Euph. 0 Dionysius, if distracting fears
just,                                Alarm this throbbing bosom, you will pardon
God-like Timoleon! ardent to redress,        A frail and tender sex. Till the fury
He guides the war, and gains upon his prey.  Of war subside, the wild, the horrid interval
A little interval shall set the victor       In safety let me soothe to dear delight
Within our gates triumphant.                In a lov'd father's presence: from gis sight,
Mel. Still my fears                        For three long days, with specious feigi'd excuse
Forebode for thee. Would thou hadst left this Your guards debarr'd me.. Oh! while yet he
place,                                       lives,
When hence your husband, the brave Phocion, Indulge a daughter's love; worn out with age,
fled;                               Soon must he seal his eyes in endless night,
Fled with your infant son!                  And with his converse charm my ears no more
Euph. In duty fix'd,                         Dion. Afflicted fair,
Here I remain'd, while my brave, gen'rous Phocion  Thy couch invites thee. When the tumult's o'er,
Fled with my child, and from.his mother's arms  Thou'lt see Evander with redoubled joy.
Bore my sweet little one. - Full well thou know'st Though now unequal to the cares of empire
The pangs I suffer'd in that trying moment.  His age sequester him, yet honours high
Did( I not weep 2  Did I not rave and shriek,    Shall gild the evening of his- various day.And by the roots tear my dishevell'd hair:  Perdiccas, ere the morn's revolving light
Did I not follow to the sea-beat shore,      Unveil the face of things, do thou despatch
Resolved, with him and with my blooming boy,   A well-oar'd galley to Hamilcar's fleet;
To trust the winds and waves?               At the north point of yonder promontory
Mel. The pious act, whate'er the fates intend,  Let some select officer instruct him
Shall merit heart-felt praise.               To moor his ships, and issue on the land.
Euph. Yes, Phocion, go,                    Then may Timoleon tremble: vengeance then
Go with my child, torn from this matron breast,  Shall overwhelm his camp, pursue his bands
This breast that still should yield its nurture to With fatal havoc to the ocean's margin,
him,                                And cast their limbs to glut the vulture's famine,
Fly with my infant to some happier shore.    In mangled heaps upon the naked shore. [Exit
If he be sale, Euphrasia dies content.         Euph. What do I hear? Melanthon, can it be?
Till that sad close of all, the task be mine  If Carthage comes, if her perfidious sons
To tend a father with delighted care,        List in his cause, the dawn of freedom'sgone.
To smooth the pillow of declining age,         Mlel. Woe, bitt'rest woe, impends; thou
See him sink gradual into mere decay,                would'st not thin —
On the last verge of life watch every look,    Euph. How?-Speak! unfold!
Explore each fond unutterable wish,            Mel. My tongue denies its office.
Catch his last breath, and close his eyes in peace.   Euph. How is my father 2 Say, MelanthonMel. I would not add to thy afflictions; yet  Mel. He,
My heart misgives; Evander's fatal period-  I fear to shock thee with the tale of horror!
Euph. Still is far off: the gods have sent relief, Perhaps he dies this moment.-Since Timoleon
And once again I shall behold him king.      First form'd his lines round this beleaguer'd city,
Mel. Alas! those glitt'ring hopes but lend a No nutriment has touch'd Evander's lips.
ray                                 In the deep caverns of the rock imprison'd,
To gild the clouds, that hover o'er your head,    He pines in bitterest want.
Soon to rain sorrow down, and plunge you deeper   Euph. Well, my heart,
In black despair.                            Well do your vital drops forget to flow!
Euph. The spirit.stirring virtue,            Mel. Despair, alas! is all the sad resource
That glows within me, ne'er shall know despair. Our fate allows us now.
No, I will trust the gods. Desponding man!     Euph. Yet why despair? 
Hast thou not heard with what resistless ardour  Is that the tribute to a father due?
Timoleon drives the tumult of the war?      Blood is his due.
Hast thou not heard him thund'ring at our gates? Melanthon, come; my wrongs will lend me force;
The tyrant's pent up in his last retreat;    The weakness of my sex is gone; this arm
Anon thou'lt see his battlements in dust,    Feels tenfold strength; this arm shall do a deed
His walls, his ramparts, and his towers, in ruin;  For heaven and earth, for men and gods to wonDestruction pouring in on ev'ry side,                der at!
Pride and oppression at their utmost need,   This arm shall vindicate a father's cause.
And nought to save him in his hopeless hour.                                    [Exeunt.
[Flourish, of Trumpets.
Mel. Ha! the fell tyrant comes-Beguile his                  ACT II.
rage,
rage,                               SCENE L.-A wild romantic scene amidst overAnd o'er your sorrows cast a dawn of gladness.  SCENE      -A   d     roma ntic scene  idst overhanging Rocks; a Cavern on one side.
Enter DIONYSIUS, CALIPPUS, OFFICERS, 4.C.
Enter ARCAS, with a Spear in his hand.
Dion. The vain presumptuous Greek! his,
hopes of conquest,                    Arc. The gloom of night sits heavy on the
Like a gay dream, are vanish'd into air.             world;
-Proudly elate, and flush'd with easy triumph  And o'er the solemn scene such stillness reigns,
O'er vulgar warriors, to the gates of Syracuse    As'twere a pause of nature.; on the -beach
He urg'd the war, till Dionysius' arm        No murm'ring billow breaks; the Grecian tents
Let slaughter loose, and taught his dastard train  Lie sunk in sleep; no gleaming fires are seen;
To seek their safety by inglorious flight.   All Syracuse is hush'd: no stir abroad,




SCENE I.]             THIE  G R E C IAN  D A U G H T E R.                          37
Save ever and anon th;8-dashing oar;           Phil.: How didst thou gain the summit of thu
That beats the sullei.wave: u,;And hark!-Was         rock.
that      iJ.Euph. Give me my father; here you hold him
The groan of anguish.tibm Evander's cell,            fetter'd;
Piercingthe midnight gloom,.-It is the sound   Oh! give him.to me;-if ever
Of bustling prows, that cleave the briny deep.    The touch of.nature throbb'd within your breast,
Perhaps at this deadhiour Hamilcar's fleet  Admit me.to Evander; in these caves
Rides in the bay.                           I know he pines in want; let me convey
Enter PiftLOTAS,'frbm the Cavern.      Some charitable succour to a father.
Phil. Alas.! Euphrasia, would I dare comply.
Phil. What, ho! brave Areas! ho!
Arc., W-hy thus desert thy conCh2           Euph. It willbe virtue in thee. Thou, like me,
Phil. Methought the sound                 Wert born in Greece:-Oh! by our common paOf distant uproar chas'd affrighted sleep.       rentArc. At intervals the oar's resounding stroke   Nay, stay; thou shalt not fly; Philotas, stay;
You have a father too'; think, were his lot
Comes echoing from the main. Save that report, You have a father to; think, were his lot
A death-like sl:neice through the wide expanse    Hard as Evander's if by flon hands
~Broods o'er fie~dreary coast.   -  Chain'd to the earth, with slow,.consuming pangs
B  sPhil. Do:thoureatire,                  He felt sharp want, and wit]h a. a sking eye
Phil.`.'ot-)ou    11etire,
And seek repose; the duty of thy watch      Implor'd relief, yet cruel men ieny'd it,
IIs now prform'id 1i take thy post.         Would'st thou not burst through adamantine gates,
- Arc:."lHw~ fares                         Through walls and rocks, to save him?  Think,
Your royal pris'ner 2                                Philotas,
Phil. Arcas, shall I own                   Of thy own. aged sire;: and pity mine.
A. secret weakness 3 My heart inward melts    Think of the, agonies a daughter feels,
When thus q parent wants the common food,
To see that suffering virtue. On the earth,  When thus a parent wants the common food,
The cold, damp earth, the royal victim lies; * The bounteous hand of nature meant for all.
The cold, damp earth, the royal victim lies;   Phil.!Twere  best withdraw thee, princess;
And, while pale famine drinks his vital spirit,  Phil.   were best withdraw thee, princess;
He welcomes death, and smiles himself to rest.       thy assistance
Oh! would I could relieve him! Thou withdraw. Evnderwantsnot; itisfruitless all
Thy wearied nature claims repose; and now    Thy tears, thy wild entreaties, are in vain.
The watch is mine.                            Euph. Ha I —thou hast murder'd him; hel-Is
Arc. May no alarm disturb thee.    [Exit.          no more
Phil. Some dread event is lab'ring into birth.  I understand thee;-butchers, you have shed;At close of day the sullen sky helkd forth  The precious drops of life; yet, e'en in death,
Unerring signals. With disastrous glare    j. Let me behold him; let a daughter close
With duteous hand a father's beamless eyes;
The moon's full orb rose crimson'd o'er with blood;  With duteous hand a father's beamless eyes;
And lo! athwartthe gloom a falling star  Print her last kisses on his honour'd hand,
And, lo! athwart.the gloom a filling star
And lay him decent in the shroud of death
Trails a long tract of fire!-What daring step    And lay him decent in tht shroud of death
Sounds on the flinty rock   Stand there what    Phil. Alas! this frantic grief can nought avail.
Sounds on the flinty rock? Stand there; what,
~~~~ho i                  t~~Retire, and seek the couch of balmy sleep,
In this dead hour, this season of repose.
Who ak;~erpose: thou dar'str'a~ilcE. Euph. And dost thou then, inhuman that thou
pose:
W~ho and what art thou?.                      art,'Who and what art thou 2..'      Advise a wretch like me to know repose?
Eqph. [Behind the scenes.] Thou need'st not Advise a wretch like me to know repose
fear;'' This is my last abode: these caves, these rocks,
It is a ~friend approaches.                 Shall ring for ever with Euphrasia's wrongs;
Phil. Ha! -what mean                      All Sicily shall hear me; yonder deep
Those plaintive notes?. Shall echo back an injur'd daughter's cause;
Euph. Here isntive note ambush'd Greek,   Here will I dwell, and rave, and shriek, and give
No warrior to surprise thee on the waitgch.  These scatter'd locks to all the passing winds;
An humble suppliant cornes. —Alas, my strength Call on Evander lost; and, pouring curses,
And cruel gods, and cruel stars invoking,
Exhauste-d quite forsakes this weary frai'e   Stand on the cliff in madness and despair.
Phil. What voice thus piercing through the
Phil. Yet calmthis violence; reflect, Euphrasia,
What art tom  wi thy errand  quickly say   With what severe enforcement Dionysius
What wretch, swith. wli intent, at this dread Exacts obedience to his dread command.
What wretch, with. w5~"~ntbnt,' at this dread
hour-  -'..             If here-thou'rt foundhour —
Wherefore alarm'st thou thu(s our peaceful watch2mansion. [Falls
- ir. w Her fix'd eternal home;-inhuman savages,
L;''ab Here stretch me with a father's murder'd corse.
Re-enter PHILOTAS, with EiPHRA$IA.        Phil. By heaven,
Euphrasia! —--                             My heart in pity bleeds.
Why, princess, thus anticipate the dawn?   Her vehemence of grief o'erpowers me quite.
Still sleep and silence wrap the weary world,  My honest heart condemns the barb'rous deed,
The stars in mid career usurp the pole;     And if I dareThe Grecian bands,.the winds, the waves, are   Euph. And if you dare!-Is that
hush'd;                             The voice of manhood? Honest, if you dare
All things are mute around us; all but you'Tis the slave's virtue!'tis the utmost limit
Rest in oblivious slumber from their cares.  Of the base coward's honour.-Not a wretch,
Euph. Yes, all; all rest: the very murd'rer. There's not a villain, not a tool of power,
sleeps;                             But, silence interest, extinguish fear,
Guilt is at rest: I only wake to misery.     And he will prove benevolent to man
4




38                     T-HE GRECIAN DAUGHTER.                                      [,A.(IT.'The gen'rous heart does -more: will dare: do.all   You must be brief,. or ruin: will ensue..[Exit.
That honour prompts.-How dost thou dare to:  -Evan:. [Raising himself]:Oh! w.henshall I get
murder.                                      free?-These ling'ring pangsRespect the gods, and know no other fear.      Despatch me,. pitying gods, and.savemey child!
Phil. No other -fear assails -this, warlike- breast. I -hum,: I.burn;.alas! no placeof rest:
-I- pity your misfortunes;,yes, -by -heaven,                                     [Co.m.es out.
My heart bleeds'for you.:Gods! youve touoh'd  A little.: air;., once. more.  a breath of, air;
— my soul! -'                         Alas! I faint; I die.
The gen'rous impulse is not given in:vain.      Euph...Heaxt-,piercing.sight!
I feeflthee,-:natu're, and I-dare obey.        Let me support you, sir.
Oh!- thou-hast-conquerd.-Go, Euphrasia, -go,   Evan. Oh l   id your arm.
Behold thy -father.                         -  Whoe'er thou  art, I thank thee; that kind breeze
Yet mark my words; if aught of nourishment   Comes gently o'ermy' snses —lea d me forward:
Thou- would'st convey, my: partners of-fthewatch  Andis'there left one charitable hand. 
Will ne'er consent.                            To reach its succours to a wretci like me?
Euph. I-will observe your-orders:             E.uph. Well mnay'st thou ask it. Oh, my
-:On any terms, oh! let-me, letl-me, see -him.          breaking heart!
Phil. -Youn lamp -will -guide thee:through -the  The hand of death is on him.
cavern'd way.                           Evan. Still a little, -
— Buph. - My heart runs o'er in- thahks; the- pi- A little onward to the air conduct me;
ous act'Tis well; —Ithan th ee;'thou art kild andgood;
rimoleon shall reward; the bounteous gods,     And much I wonder at this gen'rous'pity
And thy own-virtue, -shall reward-the-deed.,:    Euph. Do you not know. me, Sir?
- [Enters- the cave.   Evan. Methinks, I know
Phil.- Prevailing, powerful virtue!-Thoun sub- That voiceI art th6ou-alas! my eyes are dim 
-duest                                 Each object.swims before me —No, intruth
The stubborn heart, and mould'st it to thy-purpose. I do not know thee.
Would I could save them! —But -though not for   Euph. Not your own Euphrasia? 
me                                       Evan. Art thou my daughter?
The glorious power to shelter innocenceh,  my honourd sire'Yet for a moment to assuage its woes,            Evrn. My daughter, my Euphrasia! colhe to
Is the best sympathy, the purest joy,                   close
Nature intended for the heart of man,          A father's eyes! Given to my last embrace!
When thus she gave the social gen'rous tear.   Gods! do 1 hold her once again?  Your mercies
[Exit. Are without numiber.       [Falls on the couch.
1. would pour.my praise;
SCEE IL.. —ThIe- inside- of the: Cavern.    But, oh, your gooduness overcomes me quite!
You. read my heart; you see what passes there..~Fnter AqeAs:and EPHRAS.!A..   Euph. Alas; he faints; the gushing tide of
Arc. iNo; on my life: I -dare-not.                  transport
Euph.- But a-small,                          IBears down each. feeble sese e: restore him, heea
~ wretched pittance; one poor cordial drop             yen!
['o renovate exhausted drooping age.             Evn. All, my Euphrasia, all will soon be well.
di ask no more.                     -          Pass but a moment, and this busy globe,
Arc. Not the smallest store                  Its thrones, its empires, and its bu'istinfg  millions,
Of scanty nourishment must pass these-walls.    Will seem a speck in the great void''of space.
Our lives were forfeit else: a moment's parley  Yet while I stay, thou darling of my' age!
Is all I grant; in yonder cave he lies.        Nay, dry those tears.'Evan.   [Within the Cell.] Oh, struggling -na-   Euph. I will, my father.
ture! let thy coriflict end.'         Evan. WhereOh: give -me, give-me -rest.                  I fear to.ask it, whereis virtuous Phocion?
Euph. M' y father's voice!                  - Euph.. Fled from the tyrant's power.
It pierces here! -it cleaves my very heart.  - Evan..And left thee here
I shall expire,. and never see him- more.      Expos'd and helpless.
Arc.'Repose thee, princess, here, -[Drtams d,Euph.-,Ie. is. all truth and honour:
couch) here rest thy- limbs.           ie fled to save my child.
fill the returning blood shall-lend theefirmness.   Evan. My young Evander!
-Euph. -The:caves,  the;-rocks, re-echo.to- his Your boyis safe, Eup hrasia?-Oh! my heart!
groans!'                       Alas! quite gone; worn out with'rmisery
And isthere- no relief?                        Oh, weak, decay'd, old man!
Arc. All I can grant                           Euph. Inhuman wretches!
You shall command., I,:will-unbar the- dungeon,  Will none relieve his want? A —drop of water
Unloose the -chain that binds him to the rock,    Might save his life; and even- that's: denied him.
And leave your interview without restraint.      Evan.~ These strong emotions-Oh! that eager
[Opens a Cell in the back scene,        airEuph. Hold, hold, my heart!- Oh!,how- shall - It is too much —assist me; bear me hence;
I sustain                             And lay me down in peace.
Ihe agonizing scene?:[Rises.] I must behold him;   Euph.:His eyes are fix'd;
Nature, that drives me on, will lend me force.  And those pale quiv'ring lips! He. clasps my
Is that my father                    -                  hand:
Arc. Take your'last farewell.           -   What, no assistance! Monsters, will you thus
His vigour seems not yet exhausted quite.      Let him expire in these. weak, feeble arms?




SCENE II.]   TTHE GRECIAN DAUGHTER.                                                    389
Enter PHILOTAS.                 AWith your worst efforts,-ad cand  try: new modes
-Phil. Those wild, those. piercing.shrieks, will To bid mengrow enamourd-of-hercharms.
give th' alarm.                         Arc. Philotas, for Euphrasia, in her cause
Euph.; -Support.him; bear him:hence;'tis all I now can -hazard all.!Let us preserve'I ask-.' Her father for her.
Evan. [As he'is carried..] O.'death! where    Phil. Oh  her:lovelydaring
art. thou 3 Death, thou'dreaadof -guilt,   Transcends all praise., By heaven, he shall not die.
Thou wish of innocence,- affiction's''fr~-iend, - Arc. And yet we must be wary. I'll go forth,
Tir'd nature calls thee; come,.in mercy come.   -Ardirst.explore each- avenue:around,
And lag me!pillow'd in eternal-rest.        Lest the fix'd sentinel obstruct your -purpose;.'My chiid,'where- art thou J. give.me,;;reac-h. thY
My child, where a rt thou? giveme;; reach —thy Phil. I thankt-hee,:-Arcas; we will-act-like men
hand;                                   P
W`hy'dost thou weep. "My eyes are dry —Alas!    ho fee-for others'woes-iShe leads him forth,
Quite parch'd my lips-quite. parch'd,.they  cleave And tremblingly supports his drooping age.
together.                  [:Exeunt,         Re-enter. EUPHRASIA:and EVANIDR.
2Re-enter ARoas.                   Evan.- Euphrasia, -oh, my:child! returning life
Glows here about-my-heart.- Conduct-me forward!
Arc. The gray of morn- breaks through yo    At the-lastgaspreserv'd  -Ha! dawning ligt
eastern cloudes.:            Let me —behold; in faith, I see thee- now-;'Twere -time this -iterview should end:- the hour I do indeed:the-father sees-his-child.
Now -warns  Euphrasia- hence: -what man could    Euph; I have reliev'd him-Oh, the joy's too
dare,                                         -great;
I haveindulg'd-Philotas!-ha!- the icell       Tis speechless rapture!
~~Left voids!-Evander -gone -What  ~may- this    Evan." Blessings, blessings on-thee!
-;me~an? 2                            i Euph.'My faether still- shall live. Alas! PhiPhilotas, speak!                                        lotas
-~Re-enter PHILoTAs.              Could' I abandon'that white-,hoary head,
That venerable' formi? —'Abandon him
Phil.- Oh, vile, detested lot,               To perish here-in-misery and- famine?
Here to obey the savage tyrant'is will,           Phil. Thy tears, thou miracle of goodness!
And murder virtue, -that can thus lbehold  Have triumph'd o'er -me. Take him, take your
Its executioner,-and smile upon him.                    father;
That piteous sight! i                         Convey him hence; I do release him to you.
Arc.~ She must withdraw,: Philotas;            Evan. What said Philotas? Do I fondly dream.
Delay undoes us both.  The —restless:maindeed my senses are imperfect; yet
Glows with the blush ofday. The time requires, Methought I heard him! Did he say, release me?
-Without-her- further pause, or vain excuse,      Phil. Thou art my-kingj and nowno more my
That she depart this moment.                            prisner:. —Phil.- Areas, yes;, Go with your daughter, with that wondrous patMy -voice:-shall wairn her of th? approaching idan     tern
ger.                           [Exi  Of filial-piety to after times.
Arc. W;Vould she —had rie'er -adventurd toour Yes, princess, lead him -forth; I'll point the paith,
dre uard.                             Whose soft declivity will guide your-steps
-I, dread-tb- event; and hark! —the wind-convteys To-the deep vale -which'these o'erhanging rocks
In clearer sound the uproar of the-m~ain.    - Encompass round.';You may convey him- thence
Thefiates prepare hnew-havoc;s on;th' event   To some safe shelter.. Yet a-moment's pause;
Depenfds-the fate of empire.  Wherefore-thus    I must conceal your flight from ev'ry eye.
Delays Euphrasia 3-Ha! what means, Philotas, Yes I- will save, or perish in their cause. - [Exit.
That sudden haste, that pale disordered look   Evan. Whither, oh! whither shall Evander go?
l I'm at the-goal-' of life;if in the race
-:i.R-e.-entc~!s.PHI HILOT'.  j Honour has follow'd with no ling'ring step,
Phil.'O! l can hri ld no-more at-such a sight,  But there sits smiling with her laurell'd wreath
E'en-the- hard- heart of tyranny would melt    To crown my brow, there-would I fain make halt,
To infant -oftness.'Arcas,. go, behold        And not inglorious lay me down- to rest.
The-piouisfraud- of chafity and love;           -Euph.; And will you then refuse when::thus
Behold that-unexampled goodness; see               -'the gods
Th' expedient:sharp necessity has -taught her; I Afford a refuge to thee? 
Thy heart-will burn,:will melt, will yearnr to view    Evan. Oh! - my child,
A child like her.                              There is no refuge for me.
Arc.'Ha!-:Sayw-hat mystery                   Euph. Pardon, Sir:
Wakes these emotions.                         Euphrasia's care has form'd a safe retreat;
Phil. Wonder-working virtue!                There mays't-thou dwell; it will not: long:be
The father foster'd at his daughter's breast!          -wanted.
O filial piety!-The milk design'd            Soon shall Timoleon, with resistless force,
For her -own offspring, on-the parent's lip    Burst yon devoted walls.
Allays the parching fever. All her'laws          Evan. - Timoleon!
Inverted quite; great nature triumphs- still.    Euph. Yes,
Arc. The tale unmans my soul.                The brave Timoleon with-the-.power of Greece;
-Phil.:Ye tyrants, hear it,                Another day shall make. the city.his.
And learn, that, while your cruelty prepares     Evan. Timoleon come tovindicate.r y right'
Unheard-of torture, virtue can keep pace       Oh! thou shalt reign in Sicily! my child




40                    THE GRECIAN DAUGHTER.                                     [ACT II.
Shall grace her father's throne. Indulgent heaven!   Phil. Life ebbs apace;
Pour down your blessings on this best of daugh- To-morrow's sun sees him a breathless corse.
ters;                                   Dion. Curse on his ling'ring pangs! Sicilia's
To her and Phocion give Evander's crown;               crown
Let them, oh! let them both in virtue wear it,   No more shall deck his brow; and if the sand
And in due time transmit it to, their boy!   Still loiter in the glass, thy hand, my friend,
May shake it thence.
Phil. -It shall, dread Sir; that task
Phil. All things are apt; the drowsy sentinel  Leave to thy faithful servant.
Lies hush'd in sleep; I'll marshal thee the way  Dion. Oh I Philotas,
Down the steep rock.                          Thou littleknow'st the cares, the pangs of empire.
Euph. Oh! let us quickly hence.            The ermin'd pride, the purple that adorns
Evan. The blood but loiters in these frozen  A conqueror's breast, but serves, my friend, to
veins.,                                      hide
Do you, whose youthful spirit' glows with life,    A heart that's torn, that's mangled with remorse:
Do you go forth, and leave this mould'ring corpse. Even victory itself plants anguish here,
To me had heaven decreed a longer date,       And round my laurels the fell serpent twines.
It ne'er had suffer'd a fell monster'sireign,   Phil. Would Dionysius abdicate his crown,
Nor let me see the carnage of my people.      And sue for terms of peace.
Farewell, EEuphrasia; in one lovyd embrace      Dion. Detested thought!
To these rejnain, pay the last obsequies,     No, though ambition teem with countless ills,
And leave me here to sink to silent dust.     It still has charms of power to fire the soul.
Euph. And will you then, on self-destruction  Though horrors multiply around my head,
bent,                                I will oppose them all. The pomp of sacrifice,
Reject my prayer, nor trust your fate with me?   But now ordain'd, is mockery to heaven.
Evan. Trusthehe! Euphrasia. Trust in thee,'Tis vain,'tis fruitless; then let daring guilt
my child'                       Be my inspirer, and consummate all.
Though life's a burden I could well lay down,    Where are those Greeks, the captives of my sword,
Yet I will prize it, since bestow'd by thee,  Whose desp'rate valour rush'd within our walls,
Oh! thou art good; thy virtue soars a flight  Fought near our person, and the pointed lance
For the wide world to wonder at; in thee,     Aim'd at my breast.
Hear it all nature, future ages hear it,        Phil. In chains they wait their doom.
The futhber finds a parent in his child. [Exeunt.    Dion. Give me to see'em; bring the slaves before me.
ACT III.                       Phil. What, ho! Melanthon, this way lead
your prisoners.
SCENE I.-A Rampart near the Harbour.
Enter MELANTHON, with GREEK SOLDIERS, and
Enter DIONISIUS  and Officers.                          PHOCION.
Dion. Base deserters!                         Dion. Assassins, and not warriors! do yecome,
Curse on their Punic faith! Did they once dare   When the wide range of battle claims your sword,
To grapple with the Greek!  Ere yet the main    Thus do you come against a single life
Was ting'd with blood, they turn'd their ships To wage the war? did not our buckler ring
averse.                               With all your darts in one collected volley
May storms and tempests follow in their rear,    Shower'd on my head? did not your swords at
And dash their fleet upon the Libyan shore!            once
Point at my breast, and thirst for regal blood?
Enter CALIPPUS.                   Greek Offl. We sought thy life. I am by birth
Cal. My liege, Timoleon, where the harbour          a Greek.
opens,                               An open foe in arms, I meant to slay
Has storm'd the forts, and even now his fleet  The foe of humankind. With rival ardour
Pursues its course, and steers athwart the bay.   We took the field: one voice, one mind, one heart,
Through ev'ry street                          All leagu'd, all covenanted: in yon camp
Despair and terror fly. A panic spreads       Spirits there are who aim, like us, at glory.
From man to man, and superstition. sees       Whene'er you sally forth, whene'er the Greeks
Jove arm'd with thunder, and the gods against us. Shall scale your walls, prepare thee to encounter
Dinn. With sacred rites their wrath!must be A like assault. By me the youth of Greece
appeas'd.                            Thus notify the war they mean to wage.
let instant victims at the altar bleed;         Dion. Thus then I warn them of my great re
Let incense roll its fragrant clouds to heaven,        venge.
And pious matrons and the virgin train,       Whoe'er in battle shall become our pris'ner,
In slow procession to the temple bear         In torments meets his doom.
The image of their gods.                        Greek Oil. Then wilt thou see
The solemn sacrifice, the virgin throng,      How vile the body to a mind that pants
Will gain the popular belief, and kindle      For genuine glory. Twice three hundred Greeks
In the fierce soldiery religious rage.        Have sworn, like us, to hunt thee through the
Away, my friends, prepare the sacred rites.            ranks;
[Exit CAL. Ours the first lot; we've fail'd; on yonder plain??anter PHILOTAS.              Appear in arms, the faithful band will meet thee.
Dion. Vile slave, no more. Melanthon, drag
Philotas, how tares your prisoner?'em hence
EHas he yet breath'd his last?               To die in misery.? Impall'd alive,




,AE 11.]              THE GRECIAN DAUGHTER.                                          41
The winds shall parch them on the craggy cliff.  Blaze in the front of war, and glut its rage
Selected from the rest, let one depart        With blows repeated in the tyrant's veins.
A messenger to Greece, to tell the fate                                            [Exeunt,
Her chosen sons. her first advent'rers, met.
[Exit.  SCENE II. —A Temple, with a Monument in
Mel. Unhappy men! how shall my care protect                 the middle.
Your forfeit lives! Philotas, thou conduct them   Enter EUPHRASIA, ERIXENE, and other Femak
To the deep dungeon's gloom. In that recess,                   Attendants.'Midst the wild tumult of eventful war,
We may ward off the blow. My friends farewell;   Euph. This way my virgins, this way bend
That officer will guide your steps.                    your steps.
[All but PHOCION follow PHILOTAS. Lo! the sad sepulchre, where, hears'd in death,
Pho. Disguis'd                              The. pale remains of my dear mother lie.
Thus in a soldier's garb, lie knows me not.   There, while the victims at your altar bleed,
[Aside. And with your prayers the vaulted roof resounds,
Melanth)n!                                   There let me pay the tribute of a tear,
Mel. Ha!-those accents!-Phocion here!    A weeping pilgrim o'er Eudocia's ashes.
Pho. Yes, Phocion here! speak, quickly tell   Erix. Forbear, Euphrasia, to renew your sorme, say,                                      rows.
How fares Euphrasia. Euph. My tears have dried their source; then
Mel. Euphrasia lives, and fills the anxious mo-      let me here
ments                                 Pay this sad visit to the honour'd clay,
With every virtue. Wherefore venture hither!  That moulders in the tomb. These sacred viands
Why with rash valour penetrate our gates.   I'll burn, an off'ring to a parent's shade,
Pho. Could I refrain'!  Oh! could I tamely And sprinkle with this wine the hallow'd mould.
wait                                  That duty paid, I will return, my virgins.
Th' event of ling'ring war' with patience count                        G:  oes into the Tomb.
The lazy-pacing hours, while here in Syracuse:    Erix.: Look down, propitious powers! behold
The tyrant keeps all that my heart holds dear?        that virtue,
For her dear sake all danger sinks before me;    And heallthe pangs that desolate her soul.
For her I burst the barriers of the gate,
Where the deep cavern'd rock affords a passage.              Enter PHILOTAS,
A hundred chosen Greeks pursu'd my steps:       Phil. Mourn, mourn, ye virgins; rend your
Phil. Mourn, mourn, ye virgins; rend your
We forc'd an entrance; the devoted guard               scatter'd garments:;
Fell victims to our rage; but in that moment  Some dread calamity hangs o'er your heads.
Down from the walls superior numbers came.    In vain the tyrant would appease with sacrifice
The tyrant led them on. We rush'd upon him,  Th'impending wrath of ill-requited heaven.
If we could reach his heart, to end the war.  Ill omens hover over us: at the altar
But heaven thought otherwise. Melanthon, say, The victim dropp'd, ere the diviner seer
I fear to askit, lives Evander still  t     Had gor'd his knife. The brazen statues tremble,
Alel. Alas! he lives imprison'd in the rock.    And from the marble, drops of blood distil.
Thou must withdraw thee hence; regain once   Erix. Now, ye just gods, if vengeance you
more                                          prepare,
Timoleon's camp; alarm his slumb'ring rage;            prepare
Now find the guilty head.
Assail the walls; thou with thy phalanx seek
The subterraneous path; that way at night          Re-enter EUPHRASIAfrom the Tomb.
The Greeks may enter, and.let in destruction
On the astonish'd foe.                          Euph. Virgins, I thank you-Oh!  more
Pho. Would'st thou have.me                          lightly now
Basely retreat while my Euphrasia trembies    My heart expands; the pious act is done,
Here on the ridge of peril?                  And I have paid my tribute to a parent.
Mel. Yet hear the voice                     Ah! wherefore does the tyrant bend his way' 
Of sober age. Should Dionysius' spies           Phil. He flies the altar; leaves the unfinish'd
Detect thee here, ruin involves us all:                rites.
Thy voice may rouse Timoleon to th' assault,    No god there smiles propitious on his cause.
And bid him storm the works.                  Fate lifts the awful balance; weighs his life,
Pho. By heaven, I will;                     The lives of numbers, in the trembling scale.
My breath shall wake his rage; this very night,    Euph. Despair and horror mark his haggard
When sleep sits heavy on the slumb'ring city,         looks,
Then Greece unsheaths her sword, and great re- His wild, disorder'd step —Do you retire.
venge                                                              [To Attendants.
Shall stalk with death and horror o'er the ranks  Retire, Philotas; let me here remain,
Of slaughter'd troops, a sacrifice to freedom I  And give the moments of suspended fate
nur first let me behold Euphrasia.            To pious worship and to filial love.
I4fel. Hush                                   Phil. Alas! I fear to yield:-awhile I'll leave
Thy pent-up valour: to a secret haunt                  thee,
Ill guide thy steps: there dwell, and in apt time  And at the temple's entrance wait thy comilng.
I'll bring Euphrasia to thy longing arms.                                            [Ex.a
Pho. Oh! lead me to her; that exalted virtue    Euph. Now then, Euphrasia, now thou may'st
With firmer nerve shall bid me grasp the jav'lin,      indulge
Shallbid my sword, with more than lightning's The purest ecstacy of soul. Come forth,
swiftness  -                  -       Thou man of wo, thou man of every virtue
VOL. I.... F         4*




~42                   THE GRECIA:N DAUGHTER.                                     [l'rv:niter EVANDERfrom the Monuiment.  If they are all debas'd,' and willing slaves,
The young buiibreathingrto grow gray in bondage,:Eitin. And does the grave thus cast me up  And the old siildingto ignoble graves,.~~~~~again  ~~,Of sih~uc atrace'no matter who iskiing.
With aingbl dfa'thr's love: to. -iteeee''thus  A'A d-yet I will not think it; no! my people
Tominglerapture ad~aughter' s~ armsArie brav e and gen rous; I  wll trust their valour.
-Euph. H!ow fares my father now?
Evan. "y aidE'up                          -: ujh.:Yet:stay;' yetbe advis'd.
[/as given new life.    o oThbuiom this vital stream P N      miee
a i n iNo plan is'fix'd and'no concerted':neasitre.
iDerivstethy'being -;'with'unheardf                            and honour.   itness gods,
~Thou hast repaid it to thy nati~v~e sohi'i;-rc~i~e.Here in the tenimple of Olympian' Jove
E:uph. Sprung from Evander -if ilittle portion  Phl i tas  wearsOf all his go~oidness- ~d~well' wit~hirn my-heat,   Evan. Forbear: the man like''thee,
Thou:-  wilt not wonder. Oh  rmy;fathr,        Whofeels the best emotibns'of the heart
How-idst ~thou —bear thy — long,- long sufferings?'Trudth, reason, justice, honour's fine excitements,
Acts by those laws, and wants no other sanction.
Endure their brb'rus rage                            h.                  apprahes suredebq~~~a~a~*. 8~~s'ieh. g              ain, t' M-'arm~' app~te/ihes;' suire'de-:''an.-'My foes but did                                strution
To this old frame, what nature's hand must do.
To thee, to all, will follow:- h'ik!. asound''Was'but'goin~g hence-by- merie dicay. Comes hollow murm'ring thrtooghi'the'vaulted aisle.
To that futurity which Plato taught,           t ains upon the ear.                    er
Illst~ou ecal~sf  lt gahisui uon t'h6; hr. "ith/&i'W:,"myfat he
But thou ecai st me -thou!  All's. lost if. thou art seen.
"EMph.'Timoleobn too                          Phil.'Aid lo!'i' Calpus
Invites thieea-back 6to' life.
Darts it th' the' lightning's' speed'ai~0ss'the aisle.
* iEwan: — And' does-he- still    E.'Evan. T'h6u' at-:'the sOhitd-hoiUhse convene my
Urge on'the siege?                                     friends.
- Euph: His active geniu comes                 elanthon'Dion,'aid'their brave associates,
qT~o-tscourvge a guilty;; race. The' Puinie fleet  Will'show that'liberty has leaders still.
Half lost is swallow'd by the roaring sea.     Anon I'll meet'em there: [Exit PHILOTAS.] my
The shatter'd: refuse seek the- Libyanrshore,          child farewell:
To bear the news of their defeat to Carthage.    Thou shalt direct me now. [Exit into the Tomb.
Evan. These are thy wonders, heaven! abroad,   Euph. Coming forward. How my distracted
Moves  thy spirit'           heart throbs wild'with fear!
Moves  o'er the deep, and mighty fleets are va-    hat brings' alippus? wherefore?  Save'me:nish'd.n 
Euph. Ha!-Hark!-what noise is that.? hIt
comes this way..                                     Enter CALIPPUS.
Some busy footstep beats the: holl0ow'd pavement.    Cal.'Thi sullen musitg inthese rear bodes
Oh! Sir, retire-Ye powers!1-Philotas!-ha!   Alarms-suspicion: the king knows thy;ottings
PHILOS.                        Thy rooted hatred to' he'"state'and him.
His'sov'reign' will cm'ands thee to0repair
Phil. For thee, Euphrasia, Dionysius calls. TThisi monent- tO his preSence.
Some new suspicion goads him. -At:yon gate       Euph. Ha! what. means
I stopp'd Calippus, as with eager haste        Thetyrant.-I -'obey[. [Exiit`C','Cts.  ]   And, oh!
He bent this way to seek thee. Oh! my sovereign        ye powers
My king, my imnJ-ur'd. master, will you pardon  Ye ministers'of heaven!'defen my ifather;
The wrongs I've done thee                      Support hisdrooping'andhen'anon
[Kneels to EVANDER. Avenging justice shakes her crimson:i steel,
Evan. Virtue such as thine,                  Oh! be the grave. at; least a- place of'rest;
From the fierce trial of tyrannic power        That'ifdm'his' covert, in'.the' hour of'peace,
Shines forth'with added lustre.                Forth he may come to bless a willing people,.. Phil. Oh;' forgive                         And be your own just:image here oni earth.
M'arident zeal; there is no time to:waste.''[Exit.
You must withdraw; trust to your faithful friends.
Pass'but another'day, and'Dinysius:-AT IV.
Falls from a'thron'e usurp'd.                            SCENE I-The Citadel.
Evan. But ere he pays
REnter:'-D'owNy.us, C:a:nlrrvsi atd:'others.
The forfeit of his'ciinmes,' what streamsof'blood  teA                       an ther.
Shall flow in torrents round! Methinks, I might   Dion.' Aid means' the'Greek to treat of terms
Prevent'this= w~aste of natu'tre-I'll go' forth,    i  of peace? 
And:to my pedople show their rightful king.   By heaven, this panting bosom hop'd to meet
Euph. Banish' that thought i  forbear; the rash  His boasted phalanx on th' embattled plain.
attempt                               And doth-' he now, on peaceful councils  bent,
Were fatal to our hopes; oppress'd, dismay'd,    Despatch his herald! —Let: the  slave'apProach.
The people look aghast,'and, wan with fearE
None will espouse your cause.
Evan. Yes, all will dare                     Noiw-speak'thy purpose; what doth Greece:imTo act like men;-their king, I gave myself'part?
To a whole people. I made no reserve;'   Her. Timoleor,, Sir,- whose great renoWn in
My life was theirs'; each drop about my heart'arms
Pledg'd to the public cause; devoted to' it;   Is-'eqviall'd only: by: the s.:fter'irtues
That  was my compact; is'the subject'sless?  Of mild humanity that sway'his-'hiert,




*.s. I.] LI             THE:GRECG IAN D A UGH T-ER.                                      43
Sends me his.delegat.e to ofer terms,:Dion. Approach,1fair mourner, and dispel th3. Onwhich even foes, may well accord; onwhich            fears.
The fiercest nature, thoiugh it'spurn at justice,  T'hy grief, thy, tender duty to thy. father,
Maysympathiszewith his.......... Has touchl'd menearly. — In.his lone retreat,
Dfoint." Unifold t-hy..myste ry;             Respect, attendance,ev'ry lenient caire
T.hu;i.shalit.be hearid....."   -              To soothe affliction, and extend his. life,
-'Hle Thegen'rous- leazder sees,             Evander, has.commanded..'tWti pity sees'the wild,'':estructive havoc'  Euph.' Vile dissembler!
Of ruthless war; he hath surveyed around        Detested homicide! [Aside.] And has thy heart
The heaps of.'slain: that cover yonderfield,   Felt; for the, wretched -'
And,; toucf'd.,with gen'rous sense of human wo,;Dion. IUrgencies of state
Weeps'o'er his victories.         A.'"          b6ridJ g'd his;liberty.;but'to.his person
Dion. Your leaderwe eps,                    All honour hath been paid.
Then letthie aa'ithor of tho.se ilIsthou.speak'st of,   Euph..Therighteous. gods:. ~
Let th' ambitious.factor, of destruction,'      Have mark'd thy ways,,and willin time repay
Tine,,.ret reat,eal and close thescene.of blood.  Just retribution.
Why'dfott: affri'hted''peace,'h,;o'l.,hiS stanidard. Dion.: If; to see thy, father,,.
Uprear'd. in Sic'iy. and whrefr e   re''  If here to.. meet.him in a, fond embrace,,The-iron ranks, of war, fro ihich the shepherd  Will calm.thy' breast, and dry;those, beauteous
Ftetires'appalld, and leaves the blasted hopes.         tears,              -
Of. half the year,,.while closer to'her breast  A moment more shall bring him toyour presence.
The mother clasps her infiant''  Euph. Ha'!,            lead, him hither i'Sir, to move him
Her..'Tis not mine.now,:To,! plead.Timoleon's.cause;;.not mine the office iAged, infirm, worn out, with toil.and.yearsTo justify the strong, the righteorus,,motives-'  No, let me seek.him rather-If softpity,To, rge him tothe war:...the only, sope   Has touch'd:your..heart, oh! send me, send me,
My'A t deput.ation aims, at, ais, to fi'..to. him.
An interval of,'peace, a pause of horror,'   Dion. Control. this wild alarm; with prudent
That they, wose bodie- s on the naked shore.care
L4e, eweltring. in their.'blood, from either host'    Philotas.shall conduct him  here. I grant;May meet the last sad rites to'nature'due..  Thetenderinteview.'
And. decent lie in honourabie.graYes.'    i.   Euph. Disastrous. fate!
Dion.: G'o tell your. leader his pretexts are vain. Ruin impends!-This will discover all;
L'et him, with those that live,embark' for Greecei I'll perish first; provoke his utmost. rage. [Aside,
And leave our peaceful pljans, the mangled limbs Though much [ languish to behold my father,
Of' those he muirder'd,..frm mytender care'   Yet now it were not.-fit —the sun goes down;
Shall meet due obsequies.                       Night falls apace;'soon as returning dayHer. The hero,' Sir,'                           Dion. This night, this very hour, you both must
Wages no war with those, who bravely die.                meet.           -'Tis..for, the dead I.supplicat'e' I.for'iihem'     Together you may servethe state and me.
Wesue for peace; and to the living too          Thiou, seest the havoc of, wide-wasting war;
T".rlien.Would, extend it,. but the groan s   And more, full well you know, are stil to bleed.
Of/ a,wholepeopie.'haye  unsriheath'. hi's.sword.    Thou may'st prevent their. fate.
A 4igl dayi,pay. the. funeral rites.'      Euph. Oh! give the means,
To-morrow's sun may see both armies meet        And I will bless thee.for it.
Without hostility, and all in honour;. Dion. From a Greek'.*-;Y.on.,to. in..ter the. troops.who  bravely fell;  Torments have wrung the truth. iThy husband,
We,"'on our p'art, to give an humble sod.          Phocion —'
To those who gain'd a footing on the isle,, Euph. Oh'! say, speak of my Phocion.
And by their death have conquer'd.                Dion. He;'tis he'
Dion. XBe it.so;:H~ath kindled up this war; with treach'rous arty
I grant thy suit:;.,son as,to-mof rrow's d awkn   lnflam'd,the states of -Greece, and n, ow, the traitor,I- ume. the world, the;rage  of i.ating wa r  Comes.with a foreign aid to wrest my crown.
In vain' shall thirst for blood: and now farewell..   yEuph.. And does-my Phocion share Timoleon's
Sone.. ecareful.officer conduct, him, forth.             glory?
[Exit HERALD.   Dion. With him invests our walls, and bids
By ei,he.-.ewthe-:Greek, hath offer.'d to my. sword,'   ebelli' "als,   ",'  
An easy p-ey; a sacrifice to, glut''Erect her standard here.
My great revenge..,Away, my friends,.disperse.    Euph:'Oh  ble-sshim, gods!
Philotas,. waits. Euphrasia aswe order'd.    Where'er my hero treads the pathsof. war,
Phil.4:Sle.'s.here.,at hand.                 List on his- side; against the hostile jav'lin.Dion. Admit. her to our.presence.            Uprear.his mighty buckler'; to his sword
Rage and despair, a thousand warring.passions,   Lend. the, fierce whirlwind's -rage,l that he may
All rise by turns, and piecemeal rend my heart;          come.
Yet ev'ry means, all measures must be tried.    -With wreaths of triumph, and with conquests
To sweep the Grecian spoiler from the' land,             crown'd,
And fix the crown unshaken on my brow..    And a whole nation's voice
Applaud my hero with a love like mine!
Enter EUPHRASIA,                    Dion. Ungrateful'fair! Has not our, sov'reign
-  will
Euph. What sudden cause requires Euphrasia's On.thv descendants: fix'd Sicilia's crown? 
prese'ince?'i''' -Have I not vow.?d protection to your boy 




44                    THE GRECIAN DAUGHTER.                                   [ACT rv
Euph. From  thee the -crown! From  thee!                Enter EUPHRASIA.
Euphrasia's children                  Euph. All hail, ye caves of horror -In this
Shall on a nobler basis found their rights,          gloom
On their own virtue, and a people's choice.  Divine content can dwell, the heartfelt tear,
Dion. Misguided woman!        -           Which, as it falls, a father's trembling hand
Euph. Ask of thee protection!             Will catch, and wipe the sorrows from my eye.
The father's valour shall protect; kis boy.  Who's there? —Evander i-Answer-tell meDion. Rush not on sure destruction; ere too        speak —
late
Accept our proffer'd grace. The terms are these:'Re-enter PHOCION, from the Tomb.
Instant send forth a message to your husband;  Pho. What voice is that?-Melanthon!
Bid him draw off his Greels,lunmoor his fleet,  Euph. Ha! Those sounds —
And measure back his way. Full well he knows Speak of Evander; tell me that he lives,
You and your father are my hostages;         Or lost Euphrasia dies.
Ankd for his treason both may answer.          Pho. Heart-swelling transpdrt!
Eu2ph. Think'st thou then   -              Art thou Euphrasia.'tis thy Phocion, love;
So meanly of my Phocion?-Dost thou deem him  Thy husband comes. 
Poorly wound up to a mere fit of valour,       Euph. Support ime; reach thy hand.;
o To'melt away in a weak woman's tear 2        Pho.J Once more I clasp thee in this fond emOh! thou dost little know him; know'st but little   brace.
Of hissexalted soul. With gen'rous ardour      Euph. What miracle has brought thee to melt,Still Will he urge the great, the glorious plan,  Pho. Love
And gain the ever honour'd, bright reward    Inspir'd my heart, and guided all my ways.
Which fame entwines around the patriot's brow,    Euph. Oh! thou dear wand'rer! -But whereAnd bids for ever flourish on his tomb,              fore here?
For nations freed, and tyrants laid in dust.  Why in'this place of wo?  My tender little one,
Dion. By heaven, this night Evander breathes Say, is he safe 2 oh! satisfy a mother;
his last.                           Speak of my child, or I grow wild at once.
Euph. Better for him to sink at once to rest,   Tell me his fate, and tell me all thy own.
Than linger thus beneath the gripe of famine,  Pho. Your boy is safe, Euphrasia; lives to reign
In a vile dungeon, scoop'd with barb'rous skill   In Sicily; Timoleon's gen'rous care
Deep in the flinty rock; a monument          Protects him in his camp; dispel thy fears;
Of that fell malice and that black suspicion  The gods once more will give him to thy arms.
- That mark'd your father's reign.             Euph. My father lives, sepulchred ere his time
Dion. Obdurate woman! obstinate in ill!    Here in Eudocia's tomb; let me conduct thee
Here ends all parley.  Now your father's doom  Pho. I came this moment thence.
Is fix'd, irrevocably fix'd.                   Euph. And saw Evander.
Euph. Thy doom, perhaps,                     Pho. Alas! I found him not.
May first be fix'd: the doom that ever waits   Euph. Not found him there?
The  fell oppressor, from a throne usurp'l   And have they then-have the fell murd'rersHurl'd headlong down. Think of thy father's          Oh!                         [Faints.
fate
At Corinfate Dionysius!Pho. I've been too rash; revive, my love, revive!
At Corinth, Dionysius!                      Thy Phocion calls; the gods will guard Evander,
Dion. Ha! this night                       And save him to reward thy matchless virtue.
Evander dies; and thou, detested fair!
Thou shalt behold him, while inventive cruelty   Re-enter MELANTHON, with EVANDER.
Pursues his wearied life through every nerve.  Evan. Lead me, Melanthon; guide my aged
I scorn all dull delay. This very night              steps:
Shall sate my great' revenge.        [Exit. Where is he? let me see him.
Euph. This night perhaps                     Pho. My Euphrasia,
Shall whelm thee down, no more to blast creation. Thy father lives;-thou venerable man!
My father, who inhabit'st with the dead,     Behold-I cannot fly to thy embrace.
Now let me seek thee in the lonely tomb,       Evan. Euphrasia! Phooion too! Yes, both are
And tremble there with anxious hope and fear.        here:
[Exit. Oh! let me thus, thus, strain you to my heart.
SCENE II.-The inside of the Temple.         Euph. Why, my father,
Why thus adventure forth? The strong alarm
Enter PHOCION and MELANTHON.          O'erwhelm'd my spirits.
Evan. I went forth, my child,
Mel. Summon all                           When all was dark, and awful silence round,
Thy wonted firmness; in that dreary vault    To throw me prostrate at the altar's foot,
A living king is number'd with the dead.     And crave the care of heaven':for thee and thine.
I'll take my post, near where the pillar'd aisle  Melanthon there —'
Supports the central dome, that no alarm'
Surprise you in the pious act.       [Exit.:      Enter PHILOTAS.
Pho. If here                                 Phil. Inevitable ruin hovers o'er you;
They both are found, if in.Evander's arms   The tyrant's fury mounts into a blaze;
Euphrasia meets my search, the fates atone   Unsated yet with blood, he calls aloud
For all my suff'rings, all afflictions past. "  For thee, Evander; thee his' rage hath order'd
Yes, I wI. seek them-ha!-the gaping tomb    This moment to his presence.
Invites my steps-now be propitious, heaven!   Evan. Lead me to him: 
[Enters the Tomb. His presence hath no terror for Evander.




ISON.II.]             THE GRECIAN DAUGHTER.-                                        415
Euph.: Horror! it must not he.            Conquest is proud, inexorable, fierce;
Phil. No; never, never:                    It is humanity ennobles all.
I'll perish rather. His policy has granted     Pho. Farewell; the midnight hour shall give
A day's suspense from arms; yet even now             you freedom.
HIiv troops prepare, in the dead midnight hour,     [Exit with MELANTHON and PHILOTAs.
With base surprise, to storm Timoleon's camp.  Euph. Ye guardian deities, watch all-his ways.
Evan. And doth hegranta false insidious truce,   Evan. Come, my Euphrasia,
To turn the hour of peace to blood and horror?   Together we will pour
E uph. I know the monster well: -when spe- Our hearts in praise, in tears of adoration,
cious seeming                       For all the wondrous goodness lavish'd on us.
Becalms his looks, the rankling heart within                                    [Exeunt.
Teems with destruction;
Mountains hurl'd up in air, and moulten rocks,                ACT V.
And all the land with desolation cover'd.
Mel. Now, Phocion, now on thee our hope de-NE I.
pends.                                     Enter DIONYsiUS and CALIPPUS.
Fly to Timoleon; 1 can grant a passport:
Rouse him.to vengeance.; on the tyrant turn    Dion. -Ere the day clos'd, while yet the busy eye
His own insidious arts, or all is lost.      Might view their camp, their stations, and their
Pho. Evander, thou ap oLd thou, my best Eu-        guards,
phrasia,,    -                       Their preparations for approaching night,
Both shall attend my flight..                Didst thou then mark the motions of the Greeks?
Mel. It were in vain;                        Cal. From the watch-tower I saw them: all
Th' attempt would hazard all.                        things spoke
Euph.  Together here                       A foe secure, and discipline relax'd.
We will remain, safe in the cave of death;     Dion. Their follv gives them to my sword: are
And wait our freedom from thy conqu'ring arm.        all
Evan. Oh! would the gods roll back the streamMy orders issued
Cal. All.
_of time,
And give this arm the sinew that it boasted    Dion. The troops retir'd
At Tauromenium, when its force resistless    To gan recruited vigour from repose?
Mow'd down the ranks of war; I then might   Cal. The city round lies hush'd in sleep.!. guide                                  Dion. Anon,
The battle's rage, and, ere Evander die,     Let each brave officer, of chosen valour
Add still another laurel to my brow.         Meet at the citadel. An hour at furthest
Euph. Enough of laurell'd victory your sword' Before the dawn,'tis fixed to storm their camp;
Heath reap'd in earlier days.                Haste, Calippus,
Evan. And shall mysword,'                  Fly to thy post, and' bid' Euphrasia enter.
When the great cause of liberty invites,                                -     [Exit CA.
Remain inactive, unperforining quite  s      Evander dies this night: Euphrasia too
Youth, second youth, rekindles in my veins:  Shall be dispos'd of. Curse on Phocion's fraud,
Though worn with age, this arm will know its That from my power withdrew their infant boy.
oflme;en                            In him the seed of future kings were crush'd,
Will show that victory has not forgot        And the whole hated line at once extinguished.
Acquaintance with this hand.-And  yet-O                   Enter EUPHRASIA.
shame!
It will not be: the momentary blaze            Dion. Once more approach and hear me;'tis
Sinks and expires: I have surviv'd it all:           not now
Surviv'd my reign, my people, and myself..   A time to waste in the vain war of words.
Euph. Fly, Phocion, fly! Melanthon will con- A crisis big with horror is at hand.
duct thee.                          I meant to spare the stream of blood, that soon
Mel. And when th' assault begins, my faithful Shall deluge yonder plains. My fair proposals
cohorts                             Thy haughty spirit has with scorn rejected.
llhall form their ranks around this sacred dome.  And now, by heaven! here in thy very sight,
Pho. And my. poor captive friends, my brave Evander breathes his last.
companions                            Euph. If yet there's wanting
Taken in battle, wilt thou guard their lives   A crime to fill the measure of thy guilt
Phil. Trust to my care: no danger shall assail Add that black murder to the dreadful list;
them.                               With that complete the horrors of thy reign.
Pho. By heaven, the glorious expectation swells   Dion. Woman, beware: Philotas is at hand,
This panting bosom! Yes, Euphrasia, yes;    And to our presence leads. Evander. All
Awhile I leave you to the care of heaven.    Thy dark complottings, and thy treach'rous arts,
Fell Dionysius, tremble! ere the dawn        Have prov'd abortive.
Timoleon thunders at your gates; the rage,     Euph. Ha!-What new event!
The pent-up rage, of twenty thousand Greeks,   And is Philotas false — Has he betray'd him?
Shall burst at once; and the tumultuous roar                                      [Asd
Alarm the astonish'd world.                    Dion. What, ho! Philotas.
Evan. Yet, ere thou go'st, young man,
Attend my words: though guilt may oft provoke,
As now it does, just vengeance on its head,    Euph. How my heart sinks within me I
In mercy punish it. The rage of slaughter      Dion. Where's your pris'ner.
Oan add no trophy to the victor's triumph;     Phil. Evander is no more.




46                     THE"  GIRECIAN DA:UG HTEh.                                   [AC
Dion. Ha!-Death' lhasrobb'd me                 Cal. Lead to the- onset: reibee';shall find we
Of half my great revenge.                                bear'. Phil. -Worn' out- with anguish,:'':Hearts prodigal of blod, whein honour' calls,
I saw life ebb apace. With; studied art:         Resolv'd to conquer or to did'in freedom.We gave each cordial' drop, alas'! in va'in;      Dion  Thus I've resolv'd: when the declning
He. heav'd a, sigh, invok'd his d'aughtse's nami,  moon
Smil'd, and expir'd. -                            ath vel'd her orb, our' silent march begins:
Dion. Bring. me his hoary head.-;::             iTh eirder thus': Caliipus. thiou le'ad forth,
Phil..You'll pardon, Sir,'my over-hasty zeal:.'Iberia's sons'with t'he Numid:can bands,
I gave" the body to' the foaming surge,         And line the shore-Perdicas': be it thine
D1own' the steep rock despis'd..To march' thy-: tcohl6rti'to the nioita'n's fo-ot,:
Dion. Now then thou feel'st my vengeance.   IWhere the wood skirts the' valley; there malko
Euph. Glory in it;'                                    halt
Exult and triumph., Thy worst shaft is sped,    Till brave. Amyntor: stretch along the vale.
Yet still the unconquer'd mind with scorn can  Oursielf, with thei embodied cavalry'
vie-w:thee,'; -~  Clad in their mail'd cuirass, will circle round
Wiith.the calmsunshine of the breast can see,    To wheire theiir ca'mp' e'xtends its farthest line;
T'iy.'ower n.equa to subd.ti   e soul'...  Unnumb'er'd- torches thlere'shall blaie at once,
Which virtuei'for' d,' and wa ic'h the'. gds'protect. The signal of the charge; th'en- oh! my friends;,
Dion. Philotas, bear her hence,  v'e' shall not      Onev'ry side lt'" the'hi  ld uprdar' loose,  -
_.t,'iv~e;,'                 z;  f, -;,;.,...........,,,Bid massacre and carnage stalk around,;.This moment.b.n'ear hier.he'ce; you'know' the rest; Unsparing, unrelenting'; drench your swords
o'," s ee ouir wiil obey"'; that done, with all  In hostile blood, and riot in adestruction.
A warrior's speed attend. me at te citadel.......:.I: mg    -11  h:~!-~'Ik d`   Enter an OP'ICER.
There. meet the heroeswhom this night shall lead              Enter an OFFIER.
To: freedm, victory, toie,'glrioui/ havoc,:'  Ha! spealk; unfold'thy ppose.
And the destruction of the Grecian name. [Exit.    Ofi. Instant arm;
Euph. Accept my thanks, Philoetas's; gen'rous'  To'arhs, my liege; the f6b' brekai's in upon u~;man!                                   The subterraneous path is theirs; thIat way
These tears attest th'.emotions of my hart.    Their band: invads't'' S th'ly, sunl' ii sleep.
But, oh! should Greece defer- -i'.          Dion. Tre'son's at  *oki:  detiest'-;:' treaioh'roui:
Phil.'Dispeel thy fears';';,.             villains''
Phocion wil.l bringrelief;-or should the tyrant'  Is this their promisd truce. Away', m3 friends,
Assault their. camp, he'll meet a marnshalil'd foe.   Rouse all the war: fly to- yor sev'ral post-'
Let. me conducet, thiee t. the.silent toimb,.  And instant brih'g all' Syracusi'e in arims.
Eubph'./ Ahi there'gEvan        and ier'd        [nElii  wnddisarm'kd  isic.
Defenceless quite,: may, meet. some ruffi-an stroke,
Phil. Lo! here a weapon; bear this' da'ggerr toof the Temple; a
hm- him.,'''''   "                      ~Monument in the middle.
In the drear monument.sho'ld h e.ostestep      Enter EUPERASIA, ERiXINE, anid F &'/t Ae -
Dare to app roah hhim, they  must enter ingly.;      tsedeiy;ts.
This guas the.passage.man by mani they die. he.
Theie may'st thou dwell amidst. thie wild coinmo-    Euph. Which way, Erixene, which way, my
tion.                                           virgins;
Euph. Ye pityin'g gods, protect my father Shall:we direct our st-eps?  What sacred altar,
there!                      [Exeunt. Clasp on our knees:
Erix. Alas! the horrid tum ult ~
SCENE II.-T-he Citadel.               Spreads the destruction wide' On every side'
The victor's shouts', the'groans of murder'd
EnterDIoNYSIUS, CALIPPUS and several O'lcers.            wretches,
In wild confusion rise.  Once more descend
ion. Ye b:rav~e associates:, whio s6  oft ha'e  Eiidc iC's tombrt; thie -th-u nay'st finfid  shelter.,shar'.'...... Euph. Anon, Erixene, I mean to visit,
Our tiAl an:   danger in the fieid of gry,.     Perhaps for the list tine, a'n-other's utrn.
My fellow-warriors, what no god coiiid promise,   Thi''dgger tlire,'thi instrument of death,
Fortune has given us' In his dark erliBiace,    Should fortune prosper the fell tyrant's arms,
Lo! sleep e'nvelops the. Whoe G'ecifi camp.    This:dagger'thi-en may free mie from his power,
Agains.t afos',the outcasts of their country,   Aiad that drieair vi ult e'itombt us all in peace.
Freeboters,ving in piirsit of prey,'..          Flourish.
Success,by war or cove rt stratagem'Ex.   Hark!
Alike is lorious:  Theh, h maynygall:at frienids,  Euph. Th1e di'n 
Whi't'     O/ed''o  wordas'   The Ige'rous'call  f  Of arms withi clie'res'ouni''ddvances.  Hark!
freedomn,,.....,,.......-...-    That sudden iust!Again'!'Thby rush upon us!
Your wi~vejs?, your'chfildrenyourl invadned.ght.;s,. "The po'tal'opens; lo! se.thiere;behold!
1 1that c'an- steel tihe patriot breast  ith valour;, rWar, horriatw.' is ar, inva;s the sacred fahe;
Expan'ds and rouses in. the swelling heart.     No ait'ar givsb a'a aictiary now. [Warlike -music.
Follow the impulsive ardor'i  folloi   me6iio;  
Your king, your leader, -in the friendly gloom   Enter DIONYSlUS and,:CAI.iPPUS, uith several
Of night assault their camp:your country's love                    Soldiers.
And  fame eternal shall ttend;'.ii,.'      Dion. Here will I:mck their siege; here stand
Who march'd throuig'h~  od and hrror to re'deem'at bay,':  
From th' invader's power their native land; ~   And brave'em to'th'e last.




~L~JI    III.]        TH -E. E;  R EC I-A N  D-A U-G H 17 ERa                        47
Euph.rs ia..he!  Dete sted,.   tre a.ch'rous wom   van. My, child; my daughter! sav'd again
Forimy' revneppres.er.v'd! By heaven,'t....vby thee'''  [Embraces'r.
Vengeance.aa,._wm-f thy!.guilt,~and this gp!'dj.:......
V.ens.e nad-~iihoa-.lthi         ef s,              r Aljouriskh of T-rumpets.  Enter PHOCION,
This night has massacredl                                   M.ELANTELON,'c.:
Cal'. [4IHj.ng. Diqny-Sus' arm.]j My lie ef-' Phwo. Now let the monster yield.  My best'beari'      -:               Euphrasia! 
Ue!. ~if  prvd may, plead; yur caupmw     p' Euph. My lord! my Phocion! welcome to my
Creece,                                      heart.
And mitigate y.our fat e.                    Lo!t there the wonders of Euphrasia's arm!
Dion, resupptuo.  slave' ~        Pho. And is the proud one fallen' The dawn
My rage.'is.up  i armsi. by  " heaven, she. dies.     shall seehim 
A- spectacle'for public view. Euphrasia!
Eater EVANDER from the T'3omb.         Evander too! Thus to behold you: bothEvan. Torher!Th I
ETans;  H~orrr!-~ forbear! Thou.mnrd'rer- hold    Evan.  To. hera -direct thy looks;' therefix; thy
The gods behold hee horrible assassinn  And gaze with wonder there. The life Igave her;
_A *t —i the blow.,  -7were. a stab to heaven    Oh, she has us'd it for the noblest ends!.
A tllenantiuere as e s tabt tWl eaneon, -d.   To fill each duty; make her'father feel
All nature shudders at it'! Will n, friend..X
Arm in a cause~ dlike tthis,a fat~her.s. hand2 2,..The purest joy, the heart dissolving bliss,
S rike at his: bosom rather.s — Lo F!Es  hander  OfTo have a grateful child. But has:the rage
Strike.:.at;-. his b s 1om 1rather    ii'
Prostrate and gro'v.eliig on the earfth.,befor"e thee'    O t  casd
of slaughter ceas'd:.
HbeProstrate andige;ro-o e exuttesa ty  e drp   Pho. It has.
He begs t    hi e;, es.ht t tbuhe sparetmy   chi..Evan. Where is Timoleon?
Dion. E.vander.D... myey  once more..he.......... Pho. He guardi the citade:; there gives his
l) on......an f-........ m;ey.e, oncem,,n ore be    orders'
hold him.                                    od eur
May the fiends seize Philotas! Treach'rous slave  To calm the uproar, and recall from carnage'Tis well thou liv'st; thy death were poor revenge His conquering troops.
From any hand but mine.      [Offers to strike.   Euph. Oh! once again, my father,
Euph. No, tyrant, no;                       Thy sway shall bless the land. Not for himself
Eh[Rushing before EVANDER. Timoleon conquers; to redress the wrongs. h'ushn.ee... Of bleeding Sicily the hero comes.
I have provok'd your vengeance; through this bo - Thee, good Melanthon, thee, thou ge'rous ma
Thee, good Melanthon, thee, thou gen'rous man,
~p       som    irst                 His justice shall reward. Thee too, Philotas,
Open a passage; first on me, on me,
pxhassa ge;r fur;    X,,, Whose sympathizing heart could feel the touch
Exhaust your fury; every power above          Of soft humanit, the hero's bouty,' Of soft humanitv, the hero's bourty,.
Commands thee to respect that aged head;      His brightest honours, shall be lavish'd on thee.
His wither'd frame wants blood to glut thy rage; Evander too wi  ll  e thee near his  throne;
Strike here; these veins are full; heres blood' Evander too will place thee near his throne;
enough;ll; h                         And show mankind, even on this shore of being
The purple tide g gush to glad thy sight.  That virtue still shall meet its sure reward.
The purple tide will gush to glad thy sight.    Phil. I am rewarded; feelings such as mine
Phil. I am rewarded; feelings such as mine
[A cflourish of trumpets. Are worth all dignities; my heart repays me.
hion. Ha! the fierce tide of war              Evan. Come, let us seek Timoleon; to his care
This way comes rushing on.
[Exit, woith Oicers1 I will commend ye both: for now, alas!:Euph. Ebth    my Thrones and dominions are no more for me.
Euph. [Embracing  EVANDER.] Oh! thus, my To thee 1 give my crown: yes, thou, Euphrasia,
We'll perish thus together.                   Shalt reign in Sicily. And, oh! ye powers,
Dion.,[ Without.] Bar the gates;          In that bright eminence of care and peril,
dClose evry passage, and repel their force    Watch over all her ways; conduct and guide
Close ev ry passage, and repel their force.
Evan. And must I see thee bleed i Oh!  for a The goodness you inspir'd; that she may prove,
sword!                               If e'er Jistress like mine invade the land,
Bring, bring, me daggers!                     A parent to her people; stretch the ray
Euph. H a!                                  Of filial piety to times unborn,
That men may hear her unexampled virtue,
Re-enter DIONYSIUS.              And learn to emulate the Grecian Daughter!
Dion. Guards seize the slave,                                                  [Exeunt.
And give him to my rage.
Evan. [Seized by the Guards.] Oh! spare her,
spare her,
Inhuman villains!                                            EPILOGUE.
Euph. Now, one glorious effort!
Dion. Let me despatch; thou traitor, thus my    WRITTEN BY DAVID FARRICK~ ESQ.
armEuph. A daughter's arm, fell monster, strikes THE Grecian Daughter's compliments to all;
the blow.                            Begs that for epilogue you will not call;
[Stabs him; he falls and dies. For leering, giggling, would be out of season,
Behold, all Sicily, behold!-The point        And hopes by me, you'll hear a little reason,
Glows with the tyrant's blood. Ye slaves, [To   A father rais'd from death! a nation sav'd!
the Guards.] look there;             A tyrant's crimes by female spirit brav'd!
Kneel to your rightful king: the blow for freedom  That tyrant stabb'd, and by her nerveless arm,
Gives you the rights of men! And, oh! my father, While virtue's spell surrounding guards cbuld
My ever honour'd sire, it gives thee life.            charm!




48                   THE GRE GIAN DAUGHTER.                                   [ACr v.
Can she, this sacred tumult in her breast,    But jest apart, for scandal forms these tales;
Turn father, freedom, virtue, all to jest i  Falsehood be mute; let justice hold the scales.
Wake you, ye fair ones, from your sweet repose, Britons were ne'er enslav'd by evil powers:
As wanton zephyrs wake the sleeping rose'.   To peace and wedded love they give the midnigh
Dispel those clouds which o'er your eye-lids crept,  hours.
Which our wise bard mistook, and swore you From slumbers pure no rattling dice can wake. wept.'em:
Shall she to macaronies life restore,       Who make the laws, were never known to break
Who yawn'd, half dead, and curs'd the tragic'em.
bore?'Tis false, ye fair, whatever spleen may say,
Dismiss em smirking to their nightly haunt,  That you down folly's tide are borne away.
Where dice and cards their moon-struck minds You never wish at deep distress to sneer:
enchant.                           For eyes, though bright, are brighter through a
Some, muffled like the witches in Mackbeth,         tear.
Brood o'er the magic circle, pale as death!   Should it e'er be this nation's wretched fate'
Others the caldron go about-about!         To laugh at all that's good, and wise, and great;
And ruin enters, as the fates run out.      Let genius rouse, the friend of humankind,
Bubble, bubble,                   To break those spells which'charm and sink the
Toil and trouble,                         mind:
Passions burn,                    Let comedy, with pointed ridicule,
And bets are double!               Pierce to the quick, each knave and vicious fool:
Double, double!                  Let tragedy-a warning to the times,
Toil and trouble,                 Lift high her dagger at exalted crimes;:Passions burn,                   Drive from the heart each base, unmanly passion,
And all is bubble. ~                Till virtue triumph in despite of fashion.




THE MAN OF THE WORLD:
A e OW E 9yy
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY CHARLES MACKLIN.:REMARKS.
TuHIsplay —was performed in Ireland, 1764, under the title of "The True-bon Scotsman," and received the ap.
plause due to its great merit. It was not till 1781 that official permission was obtained for its representation in
London, where it has ever since eminently increased the delights of the rational and legitimate drama. Mr.
MIacklin sustained the character of Sir Pertinax Macsycophant, which was considered an unequalled performance,
till the appearance in it of the late Mr. Cooke, who is generally thought to have exceeded our author in his delineation of this arduous character.
Mr. Macklin's biographer says:-" Beside the merit of this piece in plot, character, sentiment, and diction, it is
critically constructed in respect to the three unities of time, place, and action.-If many of our modern dramatic
writers (as they are so pleased to call themselves) would consult this comedy as a model, they would be ashamed
of dragging so many heterogeneous characters together, so irrelevant to the general business of the scene,
and which give the stage more the appearance of a caricature-shop, than a faithful representation of life and
manners."
DRAMATIS PERSDNME_
COVENT GARDEN.
"'LORD LUMBERCOURT,........ Mr. Waddy.            SAM..................      r. Freeman.
SIR PERTINAX MACSYCO-                             JOHN,......              Mr. Atkins.
PHANT,.................   r. Cooke.
EGERTON,................ Mr. C. Kemble.    LADY RUDOLPHA LUMBERMELVILLE,................. r. Murray.                 COURT,..........  Mrs. H. Johnstone.
SERGEANT EITHERSIDE......M. Davenport.           LADY MACSYCOPHANT,.... Miss Leserve.
COUNSELLOR PLAUSIBLE,..... Mr. Beverley.        CONSTANTIA.......... Miss Brunton.
SIDNEY,.....,        Mr. Brunton.        BETTY HINT,....          Mr... Mrs. Mattocks.
TOMLINS.................. Mr. Abbott.            NANNY,.......            Miss Cox.
SCENE.-Sir Pertinax Macsycophant's House, ten miles from London.
ACT I  Bet. How is she now, Nanny q Any better?
SCENE I.-A  Library.                    Nan. Something-but very low spirited still. I
verily believe it is as you say.
Enter BETTY and FOOTMAN.                  Bet. Nay, I would take my oath of it'; I cannot
Bet. The postman is at the gate, Sam; pray  be deceived in that point, Nanny.  Ay, she is
step and take in the letters.                     certainly breeding, depend upon it.
Sam. John the gardener is gone for them, Mrs.   Ncn. Why, so the housekeeper thinks too.
Betty.                                              Bet. Oh, if she is not, there is no bread in nine
Bet. Bid John bring them  to me, Sam; tell loaves; nay, I know the father, the man that
him, I'm here in the library.                    ruined her.
Sam. I will send him  to your ladyship in a    Na. The deuce you do'
track, Madam.                       [Exit SAM.   Bet. As sure as you are alive, Nanny, or I am
Enter NANNY.            *        greatly deceived-and yet I can't be deceived
Nan. Miss Constantia desires to speak to you, neither. —Was not that the cook that came gallopMistress Betty.                                  ing so hard over the common just now 2
Vor, I....G            5                                            49




50                     THE MAN OF THE WORLD.                                    IACT 1.
Nan. The same: how very hard he galloped: der what the deuce the men see in her —A crea.
he has been but three quarters of an hour, he says, ture that was taken in for charity! I am sure she
coming from Hyde-park-corner!                is not so handsome. I wish she was out of the
Bet. And what time will the family be down' family once: if she was, I might then stand a chance
Nan. He has orders to have dinner ready by of being my lady's favourite myself. Ay, and
five. There are to be lawyers, and a great deal perhaps of getting one of my young masters for a
of company here —He fancies there is to be a sweetheart, or at least the chaplain-but as to
private wedding to-night between our young him, there would be no such great catch, if I
master Charles, and lord Lumbercourt's daughter, should get him. I will try for him, however: and
the Scotch lady; who, he says, is just come from  my first step shall be to let the doctor know all
Bath, on purpose to be married to him.       I have discovered about Constantia's intrigues
Bet. Ay, Lady Rodolpha! nay, like enough, with her spark at Hadley-Yes, that will do; for
for I know it has been talked of a good while-  the doctor loves to talk with me, and always smiles
Well, go tell Miss Constantia that I will be with and jokes with me, and he loves to hear me talkher immediately.                             And I verily believe, he! he! he! that he has a
Nan. I shall, Mrs. Betty.          [Exit. sneaking kindness for me, and this story I know
Bet. So! I find they all begin to suspect her will make him have a good opinion of my honescondition; that's pure: it will soon reach my lady's ty-And that, I am sure, will be one step toears, I warrant.                             wards-Oh! bless me, here he comes, and my
Enter JOHN, with Letters.          young master with him. I'll watch an opportuniWell, John, ever a letter for me'           ty to speak with him, as soon as he is alone; for
John. No, Mrs. Betty; but here's one for Miss I will blow her up, I am resolved, as great a
Constantia.                                  favourite, and as cunning as she is.  [Exit.
Bet. Give it me-hum-My lady's hand.
John. And here is one, which the postman           Enter EGERTON and SIDNEY.
says is for my young master-But it is a strange    Eger. I have done, Sir. You have refused. I
direction. [Reads] To Charles Egerton, Esq.   have nothing more to say upon the subject-I am
Bet. Oh, yes, yes! that is for Master Charles, satisfied.
John; for he has dropped his father's name of   Sid. Come, come, correct this warmth, it is the
Macsycophant, and has taken up that of Egerton. only weak ingredient in your nature, and you
The parliament has ordered it.               ought to watch it carefully. From your earliest
John. The parliament! Pr'ythee, why so, Mrs. youth, your father has honoured me with the care
Betty.                                       of your education, and the general conduct of
Bet. Why, you must know, John, that my your mind; and however singular and morose his
lady, his mother, was an Egerton by her father; behaviour may be towards others, to me he has
she stole a match with our old master. Sir Stan- ever been respectful and liberal. I am now under
ley Egerton, that you just mentioned, dying an his roof too; and because I will not abet an unold bachelor, and mortally hating our old master, warrantable passion, in direct opposition to your
and the whole gang of the Macsycophants-he father's hopes and happiness, you blame-you
left his whole estate to master Charles, who was angrily break from me, and call me unkind.
his godson; but on condition though, that he   Eger. Dear Sidney, for my warmth I stand
should drop his father's name of Macsycophant, condemned, but for my marriage with Constantia,
and take up that of Egerton; and that is the I think 1 can justify it upon every principle of
reason, John, why the parliament has made him  filial duty, honour, and worldly prudence.
change his name.                               Sid. Only make that appear, Charles, and you
John. 1 am glad that master Charles has got know you may command me.
the estate, however; for he is a sweet tempered   Eger. I am sensible how unseemly it appears
gentleman.                                   in a son, to descant on the unamiable passions of
Bet. As ever lived-But come, John, as I a parent; but as we are alone, and friends, I canknow you love Miss Constantia, and are fond of not help observing in my own defence, that when
being where she is, I will make you happy. You a father will not allow the use of reason to any
shall carry her letters to her.              of his family-when his pursuit of greatness
John. Shall I, Mrs. Betty? I am very much makes him a slave abroad only to be a tyrant at
obliged to you. Where is she'               home-and when, merely to gratify his own amBet. In the housekeeper's room, settling the bition, he would marry his son into a family he
dessert. —Give me Mr. Egerton's letter, and I detests-sure, Sidney, a son thus circumstanced
will leave it on the table in his dressing-room.-I (from the dignity of human nature, and the feelsee it is from his brother Sandy. So, now go and ings of a loving heart)  has a right not only tc
deliver your letter to your sweetheart, John.  protest against the blindness of the parent, but to
John. That I will; and I am much beholden pursue those measures that virtue and happiness
to you for the favour of letting me carry it to her; point out.
for though she would never have me, yet I shall   Sid. The violent temper of Sir Pertinax, I own,
always love her, and wish to be near her, she is cannot on many occasions be defended; but still
so sweet a creature-Your servant, Mrs. Betty.  your intended alliance with lord Lumbercourt[Exit.   Eger. Oh! contemptible! a trifling, quaint,
Bet. Your servant, John; ha! ha! ha! poor debauched, voluptuous, servile fool; the mere
fellow, he perfectly doats on her; and daily follows lackey of party and corruption; who, for a mean,
her about with nosegays and fruit-and the first slavish, factious prostitution of near thirty years,
of every thing in the season —Ay, and my young and the ruin of a noble fortune, has had the desmaster, Charles, too, is in as bad a way as the picable. satisfaction, and the infamous honour, of
gardener-in short, every body loves her, and that being kicked up and kicked down-kicked in and
is one reason why I hate her-for my part, I won- out-just as the insolence, compassion, or the




SCENE 1.]             THE MAN OF THE WORLD.                                        51
conveniency of leaders, predominated; and now- intrusion; I hope I do not disturb your revebeing forsaken by all parties,-his whole political rence.
consequence amounts to the power of franking a   Sid. Not in the least, Mrs. Betty
letter, and the right honourable privilege of not   Bet. 1 humbly beg pardon, Sir; —but I-Ipaying a tradesman's bill.                  I wanted to break my mind to your honour about
Sid. Well, but dear Charles, you are not to a-a-a scruple-that-that lies upon my conwed my lord, but his daughter.              science-and indeed I should not have presumed
Eger. Who is as disagreeable for a companion, to trouble you-but that I know you are my
as her father is for a friend or an ally.   young master's friend, and my old master's friend,
Sid. [Laughing.] What, her Scotch accent, and my lady's friend, and indeed a friend to the
i suppose, offinds you?                    whole family-for to give you your due, Sir, you
Eger. No;-upon my honour-not in the least. are as good a preacher as ever went into a pulpit.
I think it entertaining in her-but were it other-   Sid. Ha! ha! ha! do you think so, Mrs.
wise-in decency-and indeed in national affec- Betty?
tion (being a Scotsman myself) I can have no   Bet. Ay, in troth (do I-and as good a gentleobjection to her on that account-besides, she is man too as ever came into a family, and one that
my near relation.                           never gives a servant a hard word; nor that does
Sid. So I understand. But, pray, Charles, any one an ill turn-neither behind one's back.
how came Lady Rodolpha, who I find was born nor before one's face.
in England, to be bred in Scotland?           Sid. Ha! ha! ha! Why you are a mighty
Eger. From the dotage of an old, formal, ob- well-spoken woman, Mrs. Betty; and  I am
stiIlate, stiff, rich, Scotch grandmother; who upon mightily beholden to you for your good character
promise of leaving this grandchild all her fortune, of me.
would have the girl sent to her to Scotland, when   Bet. Indeed, Sir, it is no more than you deshe was but a year old; and there has she been bred serve, and what all.the servants say of you.
up ever since, with this old lady, in all the vanity,   Sid. I am much obliged to them, Mrs. Betty.
splendour, and unlimited indulgence, that fond- But pray what are your commands with me 2
ness and admiration could bestow on a spoiled   Bet. Why, I will tell your reverence-to be
child, a fancied beauty, and a pretended wit. And sure I am but a servant, as a body may say; and
is this a woman fit to make my happiness? this, every tub should stand upon its own bottomthe partner Sidney would recommend me for life-2? butto you, who best know me, I appeal.             [She takes hold qf him familiarly, looking
Sid. Why, Charles, it is a delicate point, unfit  first about very cautiously, and speaks
for me to determine-besides, your father has set    in a low familiar tone of great secrecyJ]
his heart upon the match                    My young master is now in the china-room -in
Eger. All that I know-But still I ask and close conference with Miss Constantia. I know
insist upon your candid judgment- Is she the what they are about-but that is no business of
kind of woman that you think could possibly. con- mine-and therefore I made bold to listen a little,
tribute to my happiness? I beg you will give me because you know, Sir, one would be sure-before
an explicit answer.                         one took away any body's reputation.
Sid. The subject is disagreeable —but since I   Sid. Very true, Mrs. Betty-very true, indeed,
must speak, I do not think she is.            Bet. Oh! heavens forbid that I should take
Eger. I know you do not; and 1 am sure you away any young woman's good name, unless I
never will advise the match.                had a reason for it-but, Sir-if I am in this place
Sid. I never did-I never will.            alive-as I listened with my ear close to the door,
Eger. You make me happy-which I assure I heard my young master ask Miss Constantia
you I never could be, with your judgment against the plain marriage question-Upon which I
me in this point.                           started-I trembled-nay, my very conscience
Sid. But pray, Charles, suppose I had been stirred within me so-that I could not help
so indiscreet as to have agreed to marry you to peeping through the keyhole.
Constantia, would she have consented, think you?   Sid. Ha! ha! ha! and so your conscience made
Eger. That I cannot say positively; but I you peep through the keyhole, Mrs. Betty!
suppose so.                                   Bet. It did indeed, your reverence. And there
Sid. Did you never speak to her then upon I saw my young master upon his knees-Lord
that subject?                              bless us! kissing her hand, as if he would eat it!
Eger. In general terms only: never directly and protesting and assuring her he knew that
requested her consent in form. But I will this your worship would consent to the match. And
very moment-for I have no asylum from my then the tears ran down her cheeks as fastfather's arbitrary design, but by Constantia's   Sid. Ay!
arms. Pray do not stir from hence. 1 will re-   Bet. They did indeed, Sir;-I would not tell
turn instantly. I know she will submit to your your reverence a lie for the world.
advice, and I am sure you will persuade her to   Sid. I believe it, Mrs. Betty. And what did
my wish; as my life, my peace, my earthly hap- Constantia say to all this?
piness, depend on my Constantia.     [Exit.   Bet. Oh! oh! she is sly enough-She looks as
Sid. Poor Charles! he little dreams that I love if butter would not melt in her mouth-but all is
Constantia too; but to what degree I knew not not gold that glitters-smooth water, you know,
myself, till he importuned me to join their hands-  runs deepest. I am sorry, very sorry indeedYes, I love, but must not be a rival; for he is as my young master makes himself such a fooldear to me as fraternal fondness-My benefactor, but-um  -    u ha! take my word for it, he
my friend!                                 is not the man-for though she looks as modest
Enter BETTY, running up to him.       as a maid at a christening-yet-a-when sweetBt. I beg your worship's pardon for my hearts meet-in the dusk of the evening-and stay




52                    THE MAN OF THE WORLD.                                   LACT II.
together a whole hour-in the dark grove-and    Con. His prudence, you see, Sir, has made him
and-aha! embrace-and kiss-and-weep  at retire; therefore we had better ddfer the subjec.
parting-why then-then you know-ah! it is till he is present-In the meantime, Sir, I hope
easy to guess all the rest.                 you will permit me to mention an affair that has
Sid. Why; did Constantia meet any body in greatly alarmed and perplexed me. I suppose
this manner'                               you guess what it is.
Bet. Oh! heavens! I beg your worship will not   Eger. I do not, upon my word!
misapprehend me! for I assure you, I do not be-   Con. That's a little strange-You know, Sir,
lieve they did any harm-that is, not in the grove-  that you and Mr. Sidney did me the honour of
at least, not when I was there-and she may be breakfasting with me this morning in my little
honestly married, for aught I know-She may be study.
very honest, for aught I know-heaven forbid I   Eger. We had that happiness, Madam.
should say any harm of her-I only say-that   Con. Just after you left me, upon my opening
they did meet in the dark walk-and perhaps my book of accounts, which lay in the drawer of
nine months hence-ay, remember, Sir-I said the reading desk, to my great surprise-I there
that-a-certain  person in  this family-nine found this case of jewels, containing a most elemonths hence-may ask me to stand godmother- gant pair of ear-rings, a necklace of great value,
only remember-for I think I know what's what- and two bank-bills, in this pocket-book; the myswhen I see it, as well as another.          tery of which, Sir, I presume you can explain.
Sid. No doubt you do, Mrs. Betty.           Eger. I can.
Bet. I do indeed, Sir; and so your servant, Sir;   Con. They were of your conveying, then!
[Going, returns.] but I hope your worship will   Eger. They were, Madam.
not mention my name in this business;-or that   Con. 1 assure you, they startled and alarmed me.
you had any item from me about it.            Eger. I hope it was a kind alarm, such as
Sid. I shall not, Mrs. Betty.             blushing virtue feels, when with her hand she
Bet. For indeed, Sir, I am no busy body, nor gives her heart-and last consent.
do I love fending or proving —and I assure you,   Con. It was not, indeed, Sir.
Sir, I hate all tittling and tattling-and gossiping,   Eger. Do not say so, Constantia-come, be
and backbiting-and taking away a person's cha- kirnd at once; my peace and worldly bliss depend
racter.                                     upon this moment.
Sid. I observe you do, Mrs. Betty.          Con. What would you have me do'
Bet. I do, indeed, Sir; —I am the furthest from    Eger. What love and virtue dictate.
it of any person in the world                  Con. Oh! Sir-experience but too severely
Sid. I dare say you are.                  proves that such unequal matches as ours never
Bet. I am, indeed, Sir; and so, Sir, your hum- produced aught but contempt and anger in parents,
ble servant.                                censure from the world-and a long train of
Sid. Your servant, Mrs. Betty.            sorrow and repentance in the wretched parties,
Bet. So! I see he believes every word I say; which is but too often entailed upon their hapless
that's charming-I will do her business for her, I issue.
am resolved.                   [Aside: exit.   Eger. But that, Constantia, cannot be our conSid. What can this ridiculous creature mean-  dition; for my fortune is independent and ample,
by her dark walk — I see envy is as malignant equal to luxury and splendid folly; I have the
in a paltry waiting wench, as in the vainest, or right to choose the partner of my heart.
the most ambitious lady of the court. It is always   Con. But I have not. Sir-I am a dependent
an infallible mark of the basest nature; and merit, on my lady-a poor, forsaken, helpless orphan.
in the lowest as in the highest station, must feel Your benevolent mother found me, took me to her
the shafts of envy's constant agents-falsehood  bosom, and there supplied my parental loss with
and slander.                                every tender care, indulgent dalliance, and with
Enter SAM.                 all the sweet persuasion that maternal fondness,
Sm.Egterto SAn      religious precept, polished manners, and hourly
se. tir, Mr. wEgertoun tanh  Miss Constantia example, could administer.  She fostered me;
desire to speak with you in the china-room.  Wep] and shall I now turn viper, and with
Sitcd. Very well, Sam. [JEcit SAM.] I will. not black ingratitude sting the. tender heart that thus
see them-what's to be done.-inform his father has cherished me'! Shall I seduce her house's
of his intended'marriage!-no;-that must not heir, and kill her peace' No-though I loved to
be-for the overbearing temper and ambitious the mad extreme of female fondness; though every
policy of Sir Pertinax would exceed all bounds worldly bliss that woman's vanity or man's ambiof moderation. But this young man must not tion:could desire, followed the indulgence of my
marry Constantia-1 know it will offend him-no  love, and all the contempt and misery of this life
matter. It is our duty to offend, when the offence the denial of that indulgence, I would discharge
saves the man we love from a precipitate action. — y dty to mv benefactress my earthlyguardian
Yes, I must discharge the duty of my function   more tnan parent.
and a friend, though I am sure to lose the man    Eger. My. dear Constantia!  Yourprudence
whom I intend to serve.     -        [Exit. your gratitude, and the cruel virtue of your selfdenial, do but increase my love, my admiration,
ACT II.                  and my misery.
SCENE I. —A Library.               -Con. Sir, I must beg you will give me leave to
_Enztter EGERTON and CONSTANTIA.       return these bills and jewels.
Eger. Pray do not mention them;,stire my
Con Mr. Sidney is not here, Sir.          kindness and esteem may be indulged sd far, withEger. I assure you 1 left him here, and I beg- out suspicion and reproach-I beg you will accept
ged that he would stay till I returned.      of them; nay, I insist



SCENEI.]               THE MAN OF THE WORLD.                                        53
Con. I have done, Sir,-my station here is to that the whole tenor of your conduct is most ofobey-I know they are gifts of a virtuous mind, fensive.
and mine shall convert them to the tenderest and   Eger. I am sorry you think so, Sir. I am sure
most grateful use.                           I do not intend to offend you.
Eger. Hark! I hear a carriage-it is my fa-   Sir P. [In anger.] I care not what ye intend
ther; dear girl, compose yourself-I will consult -Sir, [ tell ye, ye do offend-What is the meanSidney and my lady: by their judgment we will ing of this conduct?-neglect the levee! —'Sdeeth!
be directed; —will that satisfy you 2        Sir, your-what is your reason, I say, for thus
Con. I can have no will but my lady's; with neglecting the levee, and disobeying my comyour leave, I will retire-I would not see her in mands 2
this confusion..                               Eger. Sir, I own-I am not used to levees;
Eger. Dear girl, adieu!  [Exit CONSTANTIA. — nor do I know how to dispose of myself-nor
Enter SAM.                   what to say or do, in such a situation.
Sir P. Zounds, Sir! do you not see what others
Sam. Sir Pertinax and my lady are come, Sir; do 2 gentle and simple; temporal and spiritual;
and my lady desires to speak with you in her own lords, members, judges, generals, and bishops2
room-Oh! she is here, Sir.       [Exit SAM.  aw crowding, bustling, pushing foremost intill the
Enter LADY MACSYCOPHANT.             middle of the circle, and there waiting, watching,
Lady Sil.~ Dear child I am glad to see you: and striving to catch a luock or a smile fra the
why did you not come to town yesterday, to attend great mon; which they meet with an amicable
the levee-your father is incensed to the ptter-risibility of aspect-a modest cadence of bodyrisibility of aspect —a modest cadence of body —
the levee-at your nofat her is incensed to the  tter- and a conciliating co-operation of the whole
Eger. Madam, it is with extreme regret I tell mon — which expresses an officious promptitude
you, that I can no longer be a slave to his temper, for his service, and indicates —that they luock
his politics, and his scheme of marrying me to upon themselves as the suppliant appendages of
this woman. Therefore you had better consent his power, and the enlisted Swiss of his poleetiat once to my going out of the kingdom, and to cal fortune-this, Sir, is what ye ought to domy taking Constantia with me; for, without her, and this, Sir, is what I never once omitted for
I never can be happy.                        these five-and-tharty years-let wha would be
Lady lm. As you regard my peace, or your   eenister.
own character, I beg you will not be guilty of so   Eger. [Aside.] Contemptible!
rash a step —you promised me, you would never   Sir P. Whatis it tha ye mutter, Sir 
marry her without my consent. I will open it to   Eger.  Only a slight reflection, Sir; and not
your father: pray, dear Charles, be ruled-let me relative to you..
prevail.                                      XSir P. Sir, your absenting yoursal fra the
Eger. Madam, I cannot marry this lady.     levee at this juncture is suspeecious-it is luocked
ELady M. Well, well; but do not determine. upon as a kind of disaffection; and aw your country1lrst patiently hear wehat your father and Lord men are highly offended with yeer conduct: for,
Lumbercourt have to propose, and let them try  Sir, they do not luock  upon ye as a friend or a
weel wisher either to Scotland or Scotsmen.
to manage this business for you with your father — w  he          t
pray do, Charles.                              Eger. Then, Sir, they wrong me, I assure
Eger. Madam, I submit.                     you; but pray, Sir, in what particular can I be
Lady M. And while he is in this ill humour, charged either with coldness or offence to my
I beg you will not oppose him, let him say What country 2
he will; when his passion is a little cool, I will   Sir P. Why, Sir, ever since your mother's
try to bring him to reason-but pray do not thwart uncle, Sir Stanley Egerton, left ye this three
h]im.                                        thousand pounds a year, and that ye have, in
Sir P. [WFithlout.] Haud your gab, ye scoun- compliance with his will, taken up the name of
drel, and do as you are id. Zounds!  ye are so Egerton, they think ye are grown proud-that ye
full of your gab. Take the chesnut gelding, re- have estranged yoursal fra the Macsycophantsturn to town, and inquire what is become of my have associated with yeer mother's family-with
lord.                                        the opposeetion-and with those, again I must
Lady M. Oh 1 here he comes, I'll get out of tell you, wha do not wish weel till Scotland-bethe way.                             [Exit. sides, Sir, in a conversation the other day, after
Sir P. [WTithout.] Here you, Tomlins.      dinner, at yeer cousin Campbell Mackenzies, beTom. [ Without.] Sir.                     fore a whole table full of yeer ain relations, did ye
Sir P. [Without.] Where is my son Egerton2 not publicly wish-a total extinguishment of aw
Tom. [Without. In the library, Sir Pertinax. party, and of. aw national distinctions whatever,
Sir P. [Without.] Vary weel, the instant the relative to the three kingdoms. And, ye blockSawyers come, let me ken it.                 head-was that a prudent wish-before sae mony
of yeer own countrymen, and be damned to ye L
Enter SIR PERTINAX.              Or, was it a filial language to hold before me 2
Sir P. Vary weel —-Valy weel-' ah, ye   Eger. Sir, with your pardon-I cannot think
are a fine fellow-what have ye to say for your- it unfilial, or imprudent; I own I do wish-most
sal-are not ye a fine spark'! are ye not a fine ardently wish, for a total extinction of all parties —
spark, I say? —ah! you're a-so  you would particularly that of English, Irish, and Scotch,
not come up till the levee 2                 might never more be brought into contest, or comEger. Sir, I beg your pardon-but —I —I —I petition; unless, like loving brothers, in generous
was not very well;- besides-I did not think  emulation for one common cause.
that —that my presence there was necessary.    Sir P. How, Sir; do ye persist -;what,
Sir P. Sir, it was necessary —I tauld ye it would ye banish aw party-and aw distinction
was necessary-and, Sir-I must now tell ye, betwaxt English, Irish, and your ain countrymen?
5*




64                    THE MAN OF THE WORLD.                                    [ACrTII.
Eger. I would, Sir.                          Sir P. Let me know the instant he arrives.
Si? P. Then damme, Sir-ye are nae true    Tom. I shall, Sir.                    [Exit.
Scot. Ay, Sir, ye may luock as angry as ye   Sir P. Step ye oot, Charles, and receive Lady
wull; but again I say-ye are nae true Scot.  Rodolpha. And I desire, Sir, ye'wool treat her
Eger. Your pardon, Sir, I think he is the true with ass much respect and gallantry ass possibleScot, and the true citizen, who wishes equal jus- for my lord has hinted that ye have been very
tice to the merit and demerit of every subject of remiss ass a lover. Adzooks, Charles! ye should
Great Britain-Amongst whom, Sir, I know but admeenister a whole torrant o' flattery till her;
of two distinctions.                        for a woman ne'er thinks a man loves her, till he
Sir P. Weel, Sir, and what are those? what has made an idiot of her understanding by flattery;
are those.                    [Impatiently. flattery is the prime bliss o' the sex, the nectar
Eger. The knave and —and the honest man.  and ambrosia o' their charms; and ye can ne'er
Sir P. Pshaw! redeeculous!              gi'e them o'er muckle of it: sae, there's a guid lad,
Eger. And he who makes any other-let him  gang and mind yeer flattery. [Exit EGERTON.j
be of the north or of the south, of the east or of Hah! I must keep a tight hand upon this fallow,
the west, in place or out of place-is an enemy to I see. I'm  frightened oot o' my wits lest his
the whole, and to the virtues of humanity.   mother's family should seduce him to their party,
Sir P. Ay, Sir! this is your brother's im- which would ruin my whole scheme, and break
pudent doctrine-for the which I have banished my heart. A fine time o' day indeed for a blockhim for ever fra my presence, my heart, and my head to turn patriot-when the character is exfortune-Sir, I will have nae son of mine, because ploded, marked, proscribed; why, the common
truly he has been educate in the English uni- people, the very vulgar, have found out the jest,
varsity, presume to speak against his native land-  and laugh at a patriot now-a-days, just as they do
or against my principles. Sir, Scotsmen-Scots- at a conjurer, a magician, or any other impostor in
men, Sir-wherever they meet throughout the society.
globe-should unite and stick together, as it were,
in a poleetical phalanx. However-nae mair of 
that now, I will talk at large till ye about that   Tom. Lord Lumbercourt.         [Exit.
business anon; in the meantime, Sir, notwith-   Lord L. Sir Pertinax, I kiss your hand.
standing your contempt of my advice, and your   Sir P. Your lordship's most devoted-I rejoice
disobedience till my commands, I wool convince to see you.
ye of my paternal attention till your welfare, by   Lord L. You stole a march upon me this
my management with this voluptuary-this Lord morning!-gave me the slip, Mac; though I
Lumbercourt, whose daughter ye are to marry:   never wanted your assistance more in my life. I
ye ken, Sir, that the fellow has been my patron thought you would have called upon me.
above these five-and-tharty years.             Sir P. My dear lord, I beg ten millions of
Eger. True, Sir.                           pardons, for leaving town before you-but ye ken
Sir P. Vary weel-and now, Sir, you see by that your lordship at dinner yesterday settled that
his prodigality he is become my dependant; and we should meet this morning at the levee.
accordingly 1 have made my bargain with him-   Lord L. That I acknowledge, Mac —I did
the deel a bawbee he has in the world but what promise to be there, I own-butcomes through these clutches; for his whole estate,   Sir P. You did, indeed —and accordingly I was
which has three impleecit boroughs upon it —  at the levee; and waited there till every mortal
mark-is now in my custody at nurse; the which was -gone, and seeing you did na come, I conestate, on nqy paying off' his debts, and allowing  luded that your lordship was gone before.
him a life-rent of seven thousand per annum, is to   Lord L. To confess the truth, my dear Mac,
be made over till me for my life; and at nmy death that old sinner, Lord Freakish, General Jolly,
is to descend till ye and your issue-the peerage Sir Anthony Soaker, and two or three more of
of Lumbercourt, you ken' will follow of course — that set, laid hold of me last night at the opera;
so, Sir, you see there are three impleecit boroughs, and, as the General says,-I believe, by the inthe whole patrimony of Lumbercourt, and a peer- telligence of my head this morning-ha! ha! ha!
age, at one slap —why it is a stroke-a hit-a hit — we drank deep ere we departed-ha! ha! ha!
a capital hit, mon. Zounds! Sir, a man may live a andcentury, and not make sic another hit again  Sir P. Ha! ha! ha! nay, if you were with
Eger. It is a very advantageous bargain, no that party, my lord, I don't wonder at not seeing
doubt, Sir; but what will my lord's family say to your lordship at the levee!
j t.                           ~Lord L. The truth is, Sir Pertinax, my felSir P. Why, mon, he cares not if his family low let me sleep too long for the levee. But I
were awat the deel, sohis kixury be but gratified- wish I had seen you before you left town —
only let him have his race-horse, till feed his wanted you dreadfully.
vanity; his polite blacklegs, to advise him in his   Sir P. I am heartily sorry that I was not in
matches on the turf, cards, and tennis; his harri- the way; but on what account, my lord, did you
dan, till drink drams wi' him, scrat his face, and want me'l
burn his periwig, when she is in her maudlin   Lord L. Ha! ha  ha! a cursed awkward afhysterics-the fellow has aw that he wants, and fair-and-ha! ha! yet I cannot help laughing at
aw tht he wishes, in this world-            it neither; though it vexed me confoundedly.
Sir P. Vexed you, my lord-I wish I had been
Enter TOMLINS.                 wi' ye then; but for heaven's sake, my lord, what
Tom. Lady Rodolpha is come, Sir.          was it that could possibly vex your lordship.
Sir P. -And my lord         -               Lord L. Why, that impudent, teasing, dunTom. No, Sir, he is-about a mile behind, the ning rascal, Mahogany, my upholsterer-vou
servant says.                                know the fellow 




SCENEI.]               THE MAN OF THE WORLD.                                      55
Sir P. Perfectly, my lord.                Mac, that the villain will send down to NewLord L. The impudent scoundrel has sued me market, and seize my string of horses.
up to some infernal kind of a-something or other,   Sir P. Your string of horses! We must prein the law, which I think they call an execu- vent that, at all events:-that would be such a
tion!                                       disgrace, I will despatch an express to town diSir P. The rascal!                       rectly, to put a stop till the scoundrel's proceedings.
Lord L. Upon which, Sir, the fellow-ha! ha!   Lord L. Pr'ythee do, my dear Sir Pertinax.
ha! I cannot help laughing at it-by way of ask-   Sir P. Oh! it shall be done, my lord.
ing pardon, ha! ha! ha! had the modesty to wait   Lord L. Thou art an honest fellow, Sir Pertion me two or three days ago-to inform my ho- nax, upon honour.
nour, ha! ha! as he was pleased to dignify me-   Sir P. Oh, my lord:'tis my duty to oblige your
that the execution was now ready to be put in lordship to the very utmost stretch of my abeelity.
force against my honour, ha! ha! ha!-but that,
out of respect to my honour, as he had taken a
great deal of my honour's money, he would not   Tom. Colonel Toper presents his compliments
suffer his lawyer to serve it-till he had first in- to you, Sir, and having no family down with him
formed my honour —because he was not willing to in the country-he and captain Hardbottle, if not
affront my honour! ha! ha! ha!-  a son of a inconvenient, will do themselves the honour of
whore!                                     taking a family dinner with you.
Sir P. I never heard of so impudent a dog.   Sir P. They are two of our militia officers:
Lord L. Now, my dear Mac! ha! ha! as the does your lordship know them! 
scoundrel's apology was so very satisfactory, and   Lord L. By sight only.
his information so very agreeable to my honour-    Sir P. I am afraid, my lord, they will interrupt
I told him, that in honour I could not do less than our business.
to order his honour to be paid immediately.    Lord L. Ha! ha! not at all-not at all-ha!
Sir P. Ha! ha! ha!-vary weel-ye were as ha! ha! I should like to be acquainted with Tocomplaisant ass the scoundrel till the full, I think, per, they say he is a fine jolly fellow!
my lord.                                       Sir P. Oh! very jolly, and very clever. He
Lord L. IHa! ha! ha! to the full; but you shall and the captain, my lord, are reckoned two of the
hear-you shall hear, Mac-so, Sir, with great hardest drinkers in the country.
composure, seeing a smart oaken cudgel, that   Lord L. Ha! ha! ha! so I have heard-let us
stood very handily in a corner of my dressing- have them by all means, Mac; they will enliven
room-I ordered two of my fellows to hold the the scene-how far are they from you!
rascal, and another to take the cudgel, and return    Sir P. Just across the meadows    not half a
the scoundrel's civility with a good drubbing, as mile, my lord-a step-a step.
long as the stick lasted!                      Lord L. Oh, let us have the jolly dogs, by all
Sir P. Ha! ha! ha! admirable! as gude a means!
stroke of humour as ever I heard of-and did they    Sir P. My compliments, I shall be proud of
drub him soundly, my lord!                  their company. [Exit TOMLINS.] Gif ye please,
Lord L. Oh!  most liberally, ha! ha! ha! most my lord, we wull gang and chat a bit wi' the woliberally; and there I thought the affair would men. I have not seen lady Rodolpha since she
have rested, till I should think proper to pay the returned fia the Bath; I long to have a little news
scoundrel-but this morning, Sir, just as I was from her aboot the company there.
stepping into my chaise-my servants all about   Lord L. Oh! she'll give you an account of
me-a fellow, called a tip-staff, stepped up, and them, I'll warrant you.  [A very loud laugh
begged the favour of my footman, who thrashed  without.] Here the hairbrain comes! it must be
the upholsterer, and the two that held him, to go her by her noise.
along with him upon a little business to my lord   Lady R. [Without.]  Allons! gude folks-folchief justice.                              low me-sans ceremonies
Sir P. The devil!
Lord L. And at the same instant I, in my turn, Enter LADY RODOLPHA, LADY MACSYCOPHANT,
was accosted by two other very civil scoundrels,        EGERTON, and SIDNEY.
who, with a most insolent politeness, begged my   Lady R. [Running up to SIR PERTINAX.] Sir
pardon, and informed me, that I must not go into Pertinax,-your most devoted-most obsequious,
my own chaise!                              and most obedient vassal.  [Courtesies very low.
Sir P. How, my lord! not intill your ain car-   Sir P. Lady Rodolpha-down till the ground
riage!                                      my congratulations, duty, and affection, sincerely
Lord L. No, Sir-for that they, by order of attend your ladyship. [Bowing ridiculously low.
the sheriff, must seize it, at the suit of a gentle-   Lady R. Oh! Sir Pertinax-your humeelity is
man —one Mr. Mahogany, an upholsterer.       most sublimely complaisant-at present unanswerSir P. An impudent villain!               able-but, Sir, I shall intensely study to return
Lord L. It is all true, 1 assure you; so you see, it [Courtesies very low.] fafty fold.
my dear Mac, what a damned country this is to   Sir P. Weel, Madam, ha! you luock gaily
live in, where noblemen are obliged to pay their weel-and how-how is your ladyship after your
debts, just like merchants, cobblers, peasants, or jaunt till the Bath.
mechanics.- Is not that a scandal, dear Mac, to   Lady R. Never better, Sir Pertinax-as well
a nation.                                   as youth, health, riotous spirits, and a careless,
Sir P. My lord, it is not only a scandal, but a happy heart can make me.
national grievance.                            Sir P. I am mighty glad till hear it, my lady.
Lord L. Sir, there is not another nation in the   Lord L. Ay, ay,- Rodolpha is always in
world that has such a grievance to complain of. spirits; Sir Pertinax, Vive la bagatelle, is the
But what concerns me most, I am afraid, my dear philosophy of our family, ha!   Rodolpha,-ha I




86                     THE MAN OF THE WORLD.                                  fACT II.
Lady R. Traith is it, my lord: and upon ho-   Sir P. Ha! ha! ha! Pray, Madam, what was
nour, I am determined it never shall be. changed the object of their furious contantion.
by my consent-weel I vow-ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!   Lady R. Oh! a vary important. one, I assure
Vive la bagatelle would be a most brilliant motto you, Sir Pertinax; of no less consequence, Mafor the chariot of a belle of fashion-what say dam, than how an odd trick at whist was lost, or
ye till my fancy, Lady Macsycophant?        might have been saved!
Lady M. It would have novelty at least to re-   Omnes. Ha! ha! ha!
commend it, Madam.                             Lady R. In another party, Sir Pertinax, we
Lady R. Which of aw charms is the most de- had what was called the cabinet council; which
lightful that can accompany wit, taste, love, or was composed of a duke and a haberdasher-a red
friendship-for novelty, I take to be the true je ne hot patriot and a sneering courtier-a discarded
scai quoi of all wordly bliss. Cousin Egerton, statesman and his scribbling chaplain-wi' a busy
should not you like to have a wife with Vive la bawling, muckle-heeded, prerogative lawyer-All
bagatelle upon her wedding chariot.     of whom were every minute ready to gang togeEger. Oh! certainly, Madam.              ther by the lugs, aboot the in and the oot meenisLady R. Yes-I think it would be quite out of try: ha! ha! ha!
the common, and singularly ailegant.           Omnes. Ha! ha! ha!
Eger. Indisputably, Madam-for, as a motto    Sir P. Ha! ha! ha! weel, that was a droll.
is a word to the wise, or rather a broad hint to the motley cabinet, I vow. Vary whimsical, upon
whole world, of a person's taste and principles, honour; but they are all great politeecians at Bath,
Vive la bagatelle would be most expressive, at and settle a meenistry there with ass much ease
first sight, of your ladyship's characteristic!  ass they do a tune for a country dance!
Lady R. Oh, Maister Egerton! you touch my   Lady R. Then, Sir Pertinax, in a retired part
very heart wi' your approbation-ha! ha! ha! that of the room-snug- -in a by-corner-in close conis the vary spirit of my intention, the instant I ference, we had a Jew and a beeshop.
commence bride. Well, I am immensely proud   Sir P. A Jew and a beeshop! ha! ha! a devilthat my fancy has the approbation of so sound an ish gude connexion that; and pray, my lady,
understanding-so sublime a genius-and so po- what were they aboot.
lished, nay, so exquisite a taste, as that of the all-   Lady R. Why, Sir, the beeshop was striving
accomplished Mr. Egerton.                   to convert the Jew; while the Jew, by intervals,
Sir P. But, Lady Rodolpha, I wish, till ask was slily picking up intelligence fra the beeshop,
your ladyship some questions aboot the company aboot the change in the meenistry, in hopes of
at Bath; they say ye had aw the world there.    making a stroke in the stocks.
Lady R. 0, yes;-there was a vary great mob    Omnes. Ha! ha! ha!
indeed; but vary little company: aw canaille-   Sir P. Ha!'ha! ha! admirable, admirable, I
except our ain party; the place was quite crowded honour the smouse-hah!-it was deevilish clever
wi' your little purseprood mechanics-an odd kind of him, my lord, deevilish clever, the Jew distilof queer luocking animals, that ha'e started intill ling the beeshop;s brains.
fortunes fra lottery tickets, rich prizes at sea, gam-   Lord L. Yes, yes, the fellow kept a sharp look
bling in Change Alley, and sic like caprices of out; I think it was a fair trial of skill on both
fortune, and awaw they aw crood till the Bath, to sides, Mr. Egerton.
larn genteelity, and the names, titles, intrigues,   Eger. True, my lord; but the Jew seems to
and bon mots of us people of fashion —ha!'ha! have been in the fairer way to succeed.
ha!                                           Lord L. Oh! all to nothing, Sir: ha! ha! ha!
Omnes. Ha! ha! ha!                        Well, child, I like your Jew and your bishop
Lord L. Ha! ha! ha! I know them-I know  much-it is monstrous clever, let us have the rest
the things you mean, my dear, extremely well. I of the history, pray, my dear.
have observed them a thousand times; and won-   Lady R. Gude traith, my lord, the sum total is,
dered where the devil they all came from! ha ha! ha! that there we aw danced, and wrangled, and flatLady M. Pray, Lady Rodolpha, what were tered, and slandered, and gambled, and cheated,
your diversions at Bath?                   and mingled, and jumbledLady. R. Gude faith, my lady, the company    Omnes. Ha! ha! ha!
were my diversion-and better nae human follies   Lord L. Well, you are a droll girl, Rodolpha,
ever afforded-ha! ha! ha! sic an a maxture-and  and upon honour, ha! ha! ha!-you have given
sic oddits, ha! ha! ha! a perfect gallimowfry! ha! us as whimsical a sketch as ever was hit off.
ha! ha! Lady Kunigunda Mackenzie and I used What say you, Mr. Sidney?
to gang aboot till every part of this human chaos,   Sid. Upon my word, my lord, the lady has
ha! ha! on purpose till reconnoitre the monsters, made me see the whole assembly at Bath, in
and pick up their frivolities, ha! ha! ha! ha!  glaring, pleasing, distinct colours!
Omnes. Ha! ha! ha!                          Lady R. O, dear Maister Sidney, your apSir P. Ha! ha! ha! why, that must have been probation makes me as vain as, a reigning toast
a high entertainment till your ladyship!    at her looking-glass.
Lady R. Superlative, and inexhaustible, Sir
Pertinax: ha! ha! ha! Madam, we had in yane            Enter TOMLINS.
group a peer and a sharper-a duchess and a pinmaker's wife-a boarding-school miss and her   Tom. Colonel Toper and Captain Hardbottle
grandmother-a fat parson, a lean general, and a are come. Sir.
yellow admiral-ha! ha! all speaking together,   Sir P. 0, vary weel! dinner immediately.
and bawling, and fretting, and fuming, and wrang-    Tom. It is ready, Sir.  [Exit TOMLINS.
ling, and retorting in fierce contention, as if the    Sir P. My lord, we attend your lordship.
fame, and the fortune, of aw the parties, were till   Lord L. Lady Mac, your ladyship's hand, if
be the issue of the conflict.                you please.                [He leads her out.




SCIENE I.             THE MAN OF THE WORLD.                                          57
Sir P. Lady Rodolpha, here is an Arcadian had him i' that tipsy mood-we might ha'e
swain, that has a hand at your ladyship's devotion! settled the point amongst ourselves, before the
Lady R. And I, Sir Pertinax, ha'e yane athis lawyers came-but noow, Sir, I dinna ken
-[ Gives her hand to EGERTON.] there, Sir,-as what will be the consequence.
to hearts-ye ken, cousin, they are nae brought   Eger. But when a man is intoxicated, would
into the account o' human dealings now-a-davys.  that have been a seasonable time to settle business,
Eger. Oh! Madam, they are mere temporary  Sir 
baubles, especially in courtship; and no more to   Sir P. The most seasonable, Sir, the most
be depended upon than the weather-  or a lot- seasonable; for, Sir, when my lord is in his cups,
tery ticket.                                 his suspeecion and his judgment are baith asleep,
Lady R. Ha! ha! ha! twa axcellent seemilies, and his heart is aw jollity, fun, and gude fellowI vow, Mr. Egerton, axcellent!-for they illus- ship-you may then mould his consent to any
trate the vagaries and inconstancy of my dis- thing; and can there be a happier moment than
sipated heart, ass exactly-ass if ye had meant that for a bargin, or to settle a dispute wi' a
till describe it.    [EGERTON leads her out. friend? What is it you shrug your shoulders at,
Sir P. Ha! ha! ha! what a vast fund of Sir?
speerits and good humour she has, Maister Sid-   Eger. At my own ignorance, Sir: for I unney.                                         derstand neither the philosophy nor the morality
&d. A great fund, indeed, Sir Pertinax.    of your doctrine.
Sir P. Hah! by this time to-morrow, Maister   Sir P. I ken ye do not, Sir:-and what is
Sidney, I hope we shall ha'e every thing ready warse, ye never wull understand it, ass ye profor ye to put the last helping hand till the earthly ceed. In yane word, Charles-I ha'e often tauld
happiness o' your fiiend and pupil; and then, Sir, ye, and noow again I tell ye yance for aw, that
my cares wull be over for this life; for as till my every man should be a man o' the warld, and
other son I expect nae gude of him; nor should I should understand the doctrine of pleeabeelity;
grieve were I to see him in his coffin. But this for, Sir, the manceuvres of pleeabeelity are ass
match-Oh! it wull make me the happiest of necessary to rise in the warld, ass wrangling and
aw human beings.                    [Exeunt. logical subtlety are to rise at the bar. Why ye
see, Sir, I ha'e acquired a noble fortune, a princeACT III.                    ly fortune, and hoow do ye think I ha'e raised it?
SCENE I.-A Library.                  Eger. Doubtless, Sir, by your abilities.
Enter IR PETNAX and EERTON.  Sir P. Dootless, Sir, ye are a blockhead-nae,
Sir, I'll tell ye hoow I raised it, Sir; I raised it by
Sir P. Sir, I wull not hear a word aboot it; —  boowing; by boowing, Sir; I naver in my life
I insist upon it ye are wrong-ye should ha'e could stond straight i' th' presence of a great mon;
paid your court till my lord, and not ha'e scrupled but always boowed, and boowed, and boowed, as
swallowing a bumper or twa-or twanty till it were by instinct.
oblige him!                                   Eger. How do you mean, by instinct, Sir?
Eger. Sir, I did drink his toast in a bumper.  Sir P. Hoow do I mean, by instinct-why,
Sir P. Yas, ye did; but how?-how?-just Sir, 1 mean by-by-by instinct of interest, Sir,
ass a cross-brain takes pheesic, wi' wry mouths, whach is the universal instinct of mankind, Sir:
and sour faces, whach my lord observed; then, to it is wonderful to think, what a cordial, what an
mend the matter, the moment that he and the amicable, nay, what an infallible influence, boowcolonel got intill a drunken dispute abootreleegion, ing has upon the pride and vanity of human naye slily slunged awa'.                       ture; Charles, answer me sincerely, ha'e ye a
Eger. 1 thought, Sir, it was time to go, when mind till be convinced of the force of my doctrine,
my lord insisted upon half-pint bumpers.     by example and demonstration?
Sir P. Sir, that was not levelled at you-but   Eger. Certainly, Sir.
at the colonel, the captain, and the commissioner,   Sir P. Then, Sir, as the greatest favour I can
in order till try their bottoms; but they aw agreed confer upon ye, I wull give ye a short sketch of
that ye and I should drink oot o' smaw glasses.  the stages of my boowing; ass an excitement and
Eger. But, Sir, I beg pardon-I did not choose a landmark for ye till boow by, and as an infallito drink any more.                           ble nostrum for a mon o' the warld till thrive i'
Sir P. But, Sir, I tell you there was necessity the warld.
for your drinking more at this particular juncture.   Eger. Sir, I shall be proud to profit by your
Eger. A necessity! in what respect, Sir.    experience.
Sir P. Why, Sir, I have a certain point to    Sir P. Vary weel. [They both sit down.]
carry, independent of the lawyers, with my lord, And noow, Sir, ye must recall till your thoughts,
in this agreement of your marriage, aboot whach, that your grandfather was a mon, whose penuriI am afraid we shall ha'e a warm crooked squab- ous income of half-pay was the sum total of his
ble-and therefore I wanted your assistance in it. fortune; and, Sir, aw my proveesion fra him was
Ebger. But how, Sir, could my drinking con- a modicum of Latin, an expartness of areethmetic,
tribute to assist you in your squabble?     and a short system of worldly counsel; the chief
Sir P. Yas, Sir, it would ha'e contributed-it ingredients of which were, a persevering industry,
might have prevented the squabble.           a reegid economy, a smooth tongue, a pliabeelety
Eger. How so, Sir?                         of temper, and a constant attention till make
Sir P. Why, Sir, my lord is proud of ye for a every mon weel pleased wi' himself.
son-in-law, and of your little French songs-your   Eger. Very prudent advice, Sir.
stories, and your bon mots, when ye are in the    Sir P.. Therefore, Sir, I lay it before ye-now,
humour-and gin ye had but staid, and been a Sir, wi' these materials, I set oot, a rough rawleetle jolly, and drank half a score bumpers wi' boned stripling, fra the north, till try my fortune
him, till he got a little tipsy, I-am sure when we wi' them here i' the south; and my first step
VoL. I....H.




58                     THE MAN OF THE WORLD.                                    [ACT III.
intill the world was a beggarly clerkship in Saw-   Sir P. My next boow, Sir, was till your am
ney Gordon's counting-house, here i' the city of mother, whom I ran away wi' fra the boardingLondon, whach, you'll say, afforded but a barren  school, by the interest of whose family I got a
sort of a prospect.                           gude smart place i' th' treasury; and, Sir, my.Eger. It was not a very fertile one, indeed, vary next step was intill parliament, the whach I
Sir.                                          entered wi' ass ardent and ass determined an
Sir P. The revearse, the revearse. Well, Sir, ambeetion, ass ever ageetated the heart o' Cmsar
seeing mysel in this unprofitable situation, I re- himsel. Sir, I boowed, and watched, and attendflected deeply, I cast aboot my thoughts, and con- ed, and dangled upo' the then great mon, till I
eluded that a matrimonial adventure, prudently  got intill the vary bowels of his confidence-hah!
conducted, would be the readiest gait I could gang  got my snack of the clothing, the foraging, the
for the bettering of my condeetion, and according- contracts, the lottery tickets, and aw the poleetical
ly set aboot it-noow, Sir, in this pursuit-  bonuses; till at length, Sir, I became a much
beauty-beauty, ah! beauty often struck mine wealthier mon than one half of the golden calves
eyne, and played aboot my heart, and fluttered, I had been so long a bo6wing to. [He rises,
and beet, and knocked, and knocked, but the deel EGERTON rises too.]  And was nae that boowan entrance I ever let it get-for I observed that ing to some purpose, Sir, ha 3
beauty is generally a prood, vain, saucy, expen-    Eger. It was, indeed, Sir.
sive sort of a commodity.                       Sir P. But are ye convinced of the gude effects,
Eger. Very justly observed, Sir.            and of the uteelity of boowing.
Sir P. And therefore, Sir, I left it to prodigals    Eger. Thoroughly, Sir, thoroughly.
and coxcombs, that could afford till pay for it, and    Sir P. Sir, it is infallible-but, Charles, ah!
in its stead, Sir,-mark-I luocked oot for an  while I was thus boowing and raising this princeancient, weel-jointured, superannuated dowager: ly fortune, ah! I met many heart sores, and disa consumptive, toothless, phthisicky, wealthy  appointments, fra the want of leeterature, ailowidow-or a shreeveled, cadaverous, neglacted  quence, and other popular abeelities; Sir, gin I
piece of deformity, i' th' shape of an ezard, or an could but ha'e spoken i' th' house, I should ha'e
empersi-and-or in short, any thing, any thing, (lone the deed in half the time; but the instant I
that had the siller, the siller; for that was the opened my mouth there, they aw fell a laughing
north star of my affection-do ye take me, Sir? at me: aw which defeeciencies, Sir, 1 determined
Was nae that right 3                          at any expense till have supplied by the polished
Eger. 0 doubtless, doubtless, Sir.          education of a son, who I hoped would yane day
Sir P. Noow, Sir, where do ye think I gaed raise the house of Macsycophant till the highest
to luock for this woman wi' th' siller-nae till pinnacle of ministeerial ambeetion; this, Sir, is
court-nae till play-houses, or assemblies-ha, my plan: I ha'e done my part of it: Nature has
Sir, I gaed till the kirk, till the Anabaptists, In- done her's: ye are ailoquant, ye are popular; aw
dependent, Bradleonian, Muggletonian meetings; parties like ye; and noow, Sir, it only remains for
till the morning and evening service of churches ye to be directed-completion follows.
and chapels of ease; and till the midnight, melt-   Eger. Your liberality, Sir, in my education,
ing, conceeliating love-feasts of the Methodists -    and the judicious choice you made of the worthy
and there at last, Sir, I fell upon an old, rich, sour, gentleman, to whose virtues and abilities you enslighted, antiquated, musty maiden; that luocked trusted me, are obligations I ever shall remember
-ha! ha! ha! she luocked just like a skeleton in  with the deepest filial gratitude.
a surgeon's glass-case-noow, Sir, this meeserable    Sir P. Vary weel, Sir-vary  weel;  but,
object was releegiously angry wi' hersel, and aw  Charles,. ha'e ye had any conversation yet wi'
the warld; had nae comfort but in a supernatural, Lady Rodolpha, aboot the day of yeer marriage,
releegious, enthusiastic deleerium; ha! ha! ha! yeer leeveries, yeer equipage, or yeer establishSir, she was mad -mad ass a bedlamite.        ment.
Eger. Not improbable, Sir; there are numbers   Eger. Not yet, Sir.
of poor creatures in the same enthusiastic con-   Sir P. Pah! why there again now, there again
dition.                                       ye are wrong; vary wrong.
Sir P. Oh! numbers, numbers; now, Sir, this   Eger. Sir, we have noc had an opportunity.
poor, cracked, crazy creature, used to sing, and    Sir P. Why, Charles, ye are vary tardy in
sigh, and groan, and weep, and wail, and gnash  this business.
her teeth constantly, morning and evening, at the    Lord L. [Singing without.]
tabernacle. And ass soon ass I found she had
the siller, aha! gude traith, I plumped me doon
upo' my knees close by her, cheek-by-jole, and    Sir P. Oh! here comes my lord!
sung, and sighed, and groaned as vehemently ass   Lord L. [Singing without.]
she could do for the life of her; ay, and turned up  Sons qf care,'twas made for you.
the whites of my eyne, till the strings almost
cracked again. I watched her attentively; hand-Enter LOan LunMEINct,   nkng a   dish of
ed her till her chair; waited on her hame; got   cofe; ToMLINs  waiting, with a solver in his
most releegiously intimate wi' her in a week;
married her in a fortnight; buried her in a month;  Sons of care,'twvas madefor you.
touched the siller; and wi' a deep suit of mourn- Very good coffee indeed, Mr. Tomlins.
ing, a sorrowful veesage, and a joyful heart, Ie,'twa made
began the warld again: and this, Sir, was the
first effectual boow I ever made till the vanity of Here, Mr. Tomlins.   [Gives him the cup.
human nature: noow, Sir, do ye understand this    Tom. Will your lordship please to have another
doctrine.                                    dish.
PEger. Perfectly well Sir.                    Lord L. No more, 3,r. Tomlins. [Exit TOMI




SCENE 1.               THE MAN OF THE WORLD.                                            59
LINS.] Well, my fiost of the Scotch pints! we have    Lord L. This evening, my lady: come, Sir
had warm work.                                 Pertinax, let us leave them to settle their liveries,
Sir P. Yes, you pushed the bottle aboot, my wedding suits, carriages, and all their amorous
lord, wi' the joy and veegour of a bacchanal.  equipage for the nuptial camp.
Lord L. That I did, my dear Mac-no loss    Sir P. Ha! ha! ha! axcellent! weel, I voow,
of time with me —I have but three motions, old my lord, ye are a great officer: this is as gude a
boy, charge!-toast! fire!-and off we manceuvre to bring on a rapid engagement, as the
go-ha! ha  ha, that's my exercise.           ablest general of them aw could ha'e started.
Sir. P. And fine warm exercise it is, my lord,   Lord L. Ay, ay; leave them together, they'll
especially with the half-pint glass.           soon come to a right understanding, I warrant
Lord L. It does execution point blank-ay, ay, you, or the needle and the loadstone have lost their
none of your pimping acorn glasses for me, but sympathy.
your manly, old English, half-pint bumpers, my          [Exeunt LORD LUMBERCOURT and Sot
dear. -Zounds, Sir, they try a fellow's stamina             PERTINAX.
at once.  But where's Egerton?                  Eger. What a dilemma am I in!        [Aside.
Sir P. Just at hand, my lord; there he stonds,   Lady R. Why, this is downright tyrannyluocking at your lordship's picture.          it has quite damped my spirits, and my betrothed,
Lord L. My dear Egerton.                    yonder, seems planet-struck too, I think.
Eger. Your lordship's most obedient.           Eger. A whimsical situation mine!   [Aside.
Lord L. I beg your pardon, I did not see you-    Lady R. Ha! ha! ha! methinks we luock like
I am sorry you left us so soon after dinner; had  a couple of cawtious geenerals, that are obliged
you staid, you would have been highly entertain- till take the field, but neither of us seems willing
ed; I have made such examples of the commission- till come to action.                 [Aside,
ex the captain, and the colonel.                 Eger. 1 protest, I know not how to address
Eger. So I understand, my lord.              her.                                   [Aside.
Lord L. But, Egerton, I have slipped from the    Lady R. He wull nae advance, I see-what
company, for a few moments, on purpose to have am I to do i' this affair 1 gude traith, I wrll even
a little chat with you. Rodolpha tells me, she do as 1 suppose many brave heroes ha'e done
fancies there is a kind of a demur on your side, before me; clap a gude face upo' the matter, and
about your marriage with her.                  so conceal an aching heart under a swaggering
Sir P. A demur, hoow so, my lord?            countenance. [Aside.] Sir, Sir, ass we ha'e, by
Lord L. Why, as I was drinking my coffee the commands of our gude fathers a business of
witl. the women, just now, I desired they would  some little consequence till transact, I hope ye
fix the wedding night, and the etiquette of the wull excuse my taking the leeberty of recommendceremony; upon which the girl burst into a loud ing a chair till ye.     [Courtesies very low.
laugh, telling me she supposed I was joking, for that   Eger. [Greatly embarrassed.] Madam, I beg
Mr. Egerton had never yet given her a single your pardon.
glance, or hint upon the subject.                     [Hands her a chair, then onefor himself
Sir P. My lord, I have been just this vary    Lady R. Aha! he's resolved not to come too
instant talking to him aboot his shyness to the near till me, I think.                [Aside.
lady.                                            Eger. A pleasant interview-hem! hem!
Enter TOMLINS.                                                         [Aside.
Tom. Counsellor Plausible is come, Sir and    Lady R. Hem! hem! [.Mimics him.] ie wull
TomSerg eant  sEllor Flausitherside.  is comenot open the congress, I see; then I wull. [Aside.]
n r~neant Eitherside.                       Come, Sir, whan wull ye begin?    [ Very loud.
Sir P. Why, then, we can settle this business    me, Sir, whan wull ye begin   [Very loud.
this vary evening, my lord.          Eger. [Starts.] Begin! what, Madam.
Lord L. As well as in seven years-and to   Lady R. To make love till me.
make the way as short as possible, pray, Mr.   Eger. Love, Madam?
Tomlins, present your master's compliments and said                a word till me yet upo' the subject: nor cast
mnine to lady Rodlolpha, and let her ladyship know said a word till me yet upo' the subject: nor cast
mnine to'lady Rodolpha, and let her ladyship know  a single glance on me, nor brought forth one
we wish to speak to her directly. [Exit ToM- a single glance on me, nor brought forth one
we wish to speak to her directly.  [Eit TOm   tender sih nor even yance secretly squeeed my
LTNs.] He shall attack her this instant, Sir Perti-,      en yance secretly squeezed my
LINS.  He shall attack her this instant, Sir Perti- loof. Now, Sir, thoffoor fathers are so tyrannical
Sair P. Ha! ha! ha! ay! that's excellentthis ass to dispose of us merely for their ain interests,
is doing business effectually, my lord,        without a single thought of oor hearts or afiecLord i. Oh! I will pit them in a moment, Sir tions; yet, Sir, I hope ye ha'e mair humanity than
Pertinax-that will bring them into the heat of to think of wedding me, without first admeenisterPertinax —that will bring them into the heat of.  some of the preleeminaries usual on those octhe action at once; and save a deal of awkward- ing some of the preleeminaries usual on those ocness on both sides-Oh, here your Dulcinea casions.
comes Sir!                                Eger. Madam, I own your reproach is just;
I shall therefore no longer disguise my sentiments,
Enter LADY RODOLPIHA.               but fairly let you know my heartLady R. Weel, Sir Pertinax, I attend your   Lady R. Ah! ye are right, ye are right, cousin.
commands, and yours, my paternal lord.         Honourably and affectionately right-noow that
[She courtesies. is what I like of aw things in my swain-ay, ay,
Lord L. Why then, my filial lady, we are to cousin, open your heart frankly till me, ass a true
inform you, that the commission for your lady- lover should; but sit ye doown, sit ye doown again,
ship, and this enamoured cavalier, commanding  I shall return your frankness, and your passion
you jointly and inseparablyto serve your country, cousin, wi' a melting tenderness, equal to the
in the honourable and forlorn hope of matrimony, amorous enthusiasm of an ancient heroine.
is to be signed this very evening.               Eger. Madam, if you will hear meLady R. This evening, my lord!                 Lady R. But remember ye must begin yeel




0.0                     THE MAN OF THE WORLD.                                  [AcT 111
address wi' fervency, and a most rapturous ve-   Eger. Then, Madam, you may command
hemence; for ye are to conseeder, cousin, that our me.
match is nae till arise fra the union of hearts, and    Lady R. Why, then, Sir, the condeetion is
a long decorum of ceremonious courtship, but is this; ye must here gi'e me your honour, that nae
instantly till start at yance out of necessity or importunity, command, or menace, o' your famere accident, ha! ha! ha! just like a match ther-in fine, that nae consideration whatever
in an ancient romance, where ye ken, cousin, the shall induce you to take me, Rodolpha Lumberknight and the damsel are mutually smitten, and court, till be your wedded wife.
dying for each other at first sight; or by an    Eger. Madam! I most solemnly promise, I
amorous sympathy, before they exchange a single never will.
glance.                                        Lady R. And I, Sir, in my turn, most selemnEger. Dear Madam, you entirely mistake.    ly and sincerely thank ye for your resolution,
Lady R. So noow, cousin, wi' the true ro- [Courtesies.] and your agreeable aversion, ha! ha!
mantic enthusiasm, ye are till suppose me the ha! for ye ha'e made me as happy as a poor
lady o' the enchanted castle, and ye-ha! ha! ha! wretch reprieved in the vary instant of intended
ye are to be the knight o' the sorrowful counte- execution.
nance —ha! ha! ha! and, upon honour, ye luock    Eger. Pray, Madam, how am I to understand
the character admirably, ha! ha!           all this! 
Eger. Trifling creature!                     Lady R. Sir, your frankness and sincerity
Lady R. Nay, nay, nay, cousin, gin ye do na demand the same behaviour on my side. Therebegin at yance, the lady o' the enchanted castle fore, without further disguise or ambiguity, know,
will vanish in a twinkling.                  Sir, that I myself am ass deeply snmitten wi' a
Eger. [Rises.] Lady Rodolpha, I know your certain swain, ass I understand ye are wi' yeer
talent for raillery well; but at present, in my case, Constantia.
there is a kind of cruelty in it.              Eger. Indeed, Madam!
Lady R. Raillery! upon my honour, cousin,   Lady R. Oh, Sir, aw my extravagance, levity,
ye mistake me quite and clean. I am serious; and redeeculous behaviour in your presence,
vary serious; and I have cause till be serious: ay, noow, and ever since your father prevailed on
and vary sad intill the bargain; [Rises.] nay, I mine to consent till this match, has been a prewill submit my case even till yoursel-can ony meditated scheme, to provoke your gravity and
poor lassie be in a mair lamentable condeetion gude sense intill a cordial disgust, and a positive
[ Whining.] than to be sent four hundred miles, refusal.
by the commands of a positive grandmother, till   Eger. Madam, you have contrived and exemarry a man who I find has nae mair affection cuted your scheme most happily; but, with your
for me than if I had been his wife these seven leave, Madam, if I may presume so far-pray who
years.                                       is your lover 2
Eger. Madam, [ am extremely sorry.           Lady R. In that too I shall surprise you, SirLady R. But it is vary weel, cousin-vary  he is [Courtesies.] your ain brither. So ye see,
weel-f see your aversion plain enough-and, cousin Charles, thoff I could nae mingle affections
Sir, I must tell ye fairly, ye are the ainly mon wi' ye, I ha'e nae gaed oot o' the family.
that ever slighted my person, or that drew tears   Eger. Madam, give me leave to congratulate
fra these eyne; but'tis vary weel. [Cries.] I wull myself upon your affection-you couldn't have
return  till Scotland to-morrow  morning, and ulaced it on a worthier object; and whatever is to
let my grandmother know how I have been af- be our chance in this lottery of our parents, be asfronted by your slights, your contempts, and your sured that my fortune shall be devoted to your
aversions.                                   happiness and his.
Eger. If you are serious, Madam, your dis-   Lady R. Generous indeed, cousin, but not a
tress gives me a deep concern: but affection is not whit nobler, I assure you, than your brother Sandy
in our power; and when you know that my heart believes of you; and pray, credit me, Sir, that we
is irrecoverably given to another woman, I think shall both remember it, while the heart feels, or
your understanding and good nature will not only memory retains a sense of gratitude: but now,
pardon my past coldness and neglect of you, but Sir, let me ask one question-pray, how is your
forgive me when I tell you, I never can have that mother affected in this business'
honour which is intended me, by a connexion    Eger. She knows of my passion, and will, I
with your ladyship.                          am sure, be a friend to the common cause,:
Lady R. [Starting up.] How, Sir! are ye se-   Lady R. Ah! that is lucky, vary lucky-out
rious'                                      first step must be to take her advice upon our
Eger. Madam, I am too deeply interested, both conduct, so as till keep our fathers in the dark, till
as a man of honour and a lover, to act otherwise we can hit off some measure that wull wind them
with you on so tender a subject.             aboot till our ain purpose, and till the common
Lady R. And so, ye persast in slighting me.  interest of our ain passions.
ger. I beg your pardon, but I must be ex-   Eger. You are very right, Madam, for should
plicit-and at once declare, that I never can give my father suspect my brother's affection for your
my hand where I cannot give my heart.        ladyship, or mine for Constantia, there is no
Lady R. Why, then, Sir, I must tell you, that guessing what would be the consequence; his
your declaration is sic an affront ass nae woman whole happiness depends upon his bargain with
o' speerit ought to bear, and here I make a so- my lord: for it gives him the possession of three
lemn vow never till pardon it-but on yane con- boroughs, and those, Madam, are much dearer to
deetion.                                     him than the happiness of his children: I am
Eger. If that condition be in my power, Ma- sorry to say it, but to gratify his political rage, he
dam —                                        would sacrifice every social tie that is dear to
Lady R. Sir, it is i' your poower.         friend or family.                   [Exeunt.




SCENE I.]              THE MAN OF THE WORLD.                                        61
ACT IV.                     always the best wi' sic a man; ye must even come
SCENVE I.-A Library.              up till his mark at yance, and let him know fra
me, that I will secure him a seat for yane of those
Enter SIR PERTINAX and COUNSELLOR PLAU- vary boroughs.
SIBLE.                      Plau. Oh! that will do, Sir Pertinax;  that
Sir P. No, no; come away, Counsellor Plau- will do, I'll answer for it.
sible-come away, I say; let them chew upon it   Sir P. And further, I beg ye wull let him
-let them chew upon it. —Vhy, Counsellor, did know, that I think myself obliged till conseeder
ye ever hear so impertinent, so meddling, and so him in this affair ass acting for me ass weel ass
obstinate a blockhead, ass that Sergeant Either- for my lord, ass a common friend till baith, and
side 1 confound the fallow, he has put me oot of for the service he has already done us, mak' my
aw temper!                                   special compliments till him; and pray let this
Plau. He is very positive, indeed, Sir Per- soft, sterling, bit of paper be my faithful advocate
tinax, and no doubt was intemperate and rude; till convince him what my gratitude further inbut, Sir Pertinax, I would not break up the match tends for his great [Gives him a bank-bill.] equity,
notwithstanding: for, certainly, even without the in adjusting this agreement betwixt my lord's
boroughs, it is an advantageous bargain, both to family and mine.
you and your son.                              Plan. Ha! ha! ha! Sir Pertinax, upon my
Sir P. But, Plausible, do you think I wull word this is noble-ay, ay! this is an eloquent
give up the nomination till three boroughs? why, bit of paper, indeed.
I would rather give him twanty, nay, tharty thou-   Sir P. Maister Plausible, in aw human dealsand pounds in any other part o' th' bargain- ings the most affectual method is that of ganging
especially at this juncture, when votes are likely at yance till the vary bottom of a mon's heartto become so valuable-why, mon, if a certain for, if we expact that men should serve us, we
affair comes on, they'll rise above five hundred must first win their affections by serving them —
per cent.                                    Oh! here they baith come!
Plan. No doubt they will, Sir Pertinax-but   Enter LORD LUMBERCOURT and SERGEANT
what shall we do in this case 1 for Mr. Sergeant             EITHERSIDE.
insists that you positively agreed to my lord's
having the nomination to the three boroughs   Lord L. My dear Sir Pertinax, what could
during his own life.                         provoke you to break off this business so abruptSir P. Why, yes, in the first sketch of the ly' —You are really wrong in the point; and if
agreement 1 believe I did consent; but at that you will give yourself time to recollect, you will
time, mon, my lord's affairs did not appear to be find that my having the nomination to the
half so desparate ass I noow find they turn oot. boroughs for my life, was a preliminary articleSir, he must acquiesce in whatever I demand, for and I appeal to Mr. Sergeant Eitherside here,
I ha'e gotten him intill sic an hobble, that he whether I did not always understand it so.
canna exist without me.                        Serg. E. I assure you, Sir Pertinax, that in
Planu. No doubt, Sir Pertinax, you have him  all his lordship's conversation with me upon this
absolutely in your power.                    business, and in his positive instructions too, we
Sir P. Vary weel; and ought not a mon till always understood the nomination to be in my
make his vantage of it?                     lord, dlurante vita, durante vita-clearly, clearly,
Planu. No doubt you ought, no manner of beyond the shadow of a doubt.
doubt; but, Sir Pertinax, there is a secret spring    Sir P. WVhy then, my lord, till shorten the
in this business that you do not seem to perceive, dispute, aw I can say, in answer till your lordand which I am afraid governs the whole matter ship, is, that there has been a total mistake berespecting these boroughs.                   twaxt us in that point-and therefore the treaty
Sir P. What spring do ye mean, Counsellor? must end here-1 give it up-I wash my hands
Plau. Why this: I have some reason to think of it for ever —for ever.
that my lord is tied down, by some means or   Plau. Well but, gentlemen, a little patience,
other, to bring Sergeant Eitherside in, the very pray. Sure this mistake, some how or other,
first vacancy, for one of those boroughs-now  may be rectified-Mr. Sergeant, pray let you and
that, I believe, is the sole motive why the ser- I step into the next room by ourselves, and regeant is so very strenuous that my lord should consider the clause relative to the boroughs, and
kee.p-the boroughs in his own power, fearing that try if we cannot hit upon some medium that will
you might reject him  for some man of your be agreeable to both parties.
own.                                             r Serg. E. Mr. Plausible, I have already conSir, P.. Oh I niy dear Plausible, ye are clever sidered the clause fully, am entirely master of the
-yes, vary clever-ye ha'e hit upo' the vary question, and my lord cannot give up the point;
string that has made aw this discord-O! I see it is unkind, unreasonable, to expect it, and I shall
it-I see it noow; but haud, haud-bide a wee never, never-on no account whatsoever shall I
bit-a. wee bit mon-I ha'e a thought come ever advise him to give it up.
intill my head-yes-I think noow, Plausible,   Plan. Nay, Mr. Sergeant, I beg you will not
wi' a little twist in oor negociation, that the vary misapprehend me-do not think I want his lordstring, properly tuned, may be still made to pro- ship to give up any point without an equivalent.
duce the vary harmony we wish for-ya-yas, I Sir Pertinax, will you permit Mr. Sergeant and
ha'e it-this sergeant I see understands business, me to retire for a few moments, to reconsider this
and if I am not mistaken knows hoow till take a point about the three boroughs?
hint.                                          Sir P. Wi' aw my heart and saul, Maister
Plan. Oh! nobody better, Sir Pertinax. nobody Plausible, ainy thing till accommodate his lordbetter.                                      ship-ainy thing-ainy thing.
Sir P. Why then, Plausible, the short road is   Plan. What say you, my lord?
6




62                     THE MAN OF THE WORLD.                                   [ACT IV.
Lord L. Nay, I submit it entirely to you and  but yane interest for the future, let us ha'e nae
Mr. Sergeant.                                mair words aboot these paltry boroughs, but conPlau. Come, Mr. Sergeant, let us retire.   elude the agreement at yance-just as it standsLord L. Ay, ay, go, Mr. Sergeant, and hear otherwise there must be new writings drawn,
what Mr. Plausible has to say, however.      new consultations of lawyers; new objections and
Serg. E. Nay, I will wait on Mr. Plausible, delays will arise, creditors wull be impatient and
my lord, with all my heart; but I am sure I can- impertinent-so that we shall nae finish the Lord
not suggest the shadow of a reason for altering  knows when.
my present opinion:-impossible, impossible, he   Lord L. You are right, you are right; say no
cannot give them up; it is an opinion from which more, Mac, say no more-split the lawyers-you
I never can depart.                          judge the point better than all Westminster-hall
Plau. Well, well, do not be positive, Mr. could-it shall stand as it is-yes, it'shall be
Sergeant; do not be positive. I am sure, reason, settled your own way, for your interest and mine
and your client's conveniency, will always make are the same, I see plainly. Oh! here the lawyou alter your opinion.                      yers come-so gentlemen-well, what have ye
Serg. E. Ay, ay, reason, and my client's con- done-how are your opinions now 3
veniency, Mr. Plausible, will always control my
opinion, depend upon it. Ay, ay! there you are              EITRERSIDE.
right; Sir, I attend you.  [Exeunt Lawyers.
Sir P. I am sorry, my lord, extremely sorry,   Serg. E. My lord, Mr. Plausible  has conindeed, that this mistake has happened.      vinced me-fully convinced me, that the boroughs
Lord L. Upon honour, and so am I, Sir Perti- should be given up to Sir Pertinax.
nax.                                           Plau. Yes, my lord, I have convinced him-I
Sir P. But come noow, after aw, your lord- have laid such arguments before Mr. Sergeant,
ship must allow ye ha'e been i' the wrong. Come, as were irresistible.
my dear lord, ye must allow that noow.         Serg. E. He has, indeed, my lord; for when
Lord L. How so, my dear Sir Pertinax.     I come to consider the long friendship that has
Sir P. Not aboot the boroughs, my lord, for subsisted between your lordship and Sir Pertinax;
those I do not mind of a bawbee-but aboot yeer the great and mutual advantages that must atdistrust of my friendship. Why, do ye think tend this alliance; the various foreclosings, seiznoow, I appeal till your ain breast, my lord; do ing, distracting, and in short every shape of ruin
ye think, I say, that I should ever ha'e refused or that the law can assume; all which must be put
slighted your lordship's nomination till these in force, should this agreement go off; and as Sir
boroughs'                           Pertinax gives his honour, that your lordship's
Lord L. Why really I don't think you would, nomination shall be sacredly observed, why, upon
Sir Pertinax; but one must be directed by one's a nearer review of the whole affair, I am convinlawyer, you know.                            ced that it will be the wiser measure to conclude
Sir P. Ha! my lord, lawyers are a dangerous the agreement just as it is drawn-just as it is
species of animals till ha'e any dependence upon drawn, my lord: it cannot be more to your ad-they are always starting punctilios and deefi- vantage.
culties among friends. Why, my dear lord, it is   Lord L. I am very glad you think so, Mr.
their interest that aw mankind should be at vari- Sergeant, because that is my opinion too-so, my
ance; for disagreement is the vary manure wi' dear Eitherside, do you and Plausible despatch
which they enrich and fatten the land of leetiga- the business now as soon as possible.
tion; and as they find that that constantly produces   Serg. E. My lord, every thing will be ready
the best crop, depend upon it they wull always be for signing in less than an hour-come, Mr.
sure till lay it on ass thick ass they can.  Plausible, let us go and fill up the blanks, and
Lord L. Come, come,' my dear Sir Pertinax, put the last hand to the writings, on our part.
you must not be angry with the sergeant for his   Plau. I attend you, Mr. Sergeant.
insisting so warmly on this point-for those                             [Exeunt Lawyers.
boroughs, you know, are my sheet anchor.       Lord L. And while the lawyers are preparing
Sir P. I know it, my lord; and as an instance the writings, Sir Pertinax. I will go and saunter
of my promptness to study, and my acquiescence with the women.
till your lordship's inclination, ass I see that this   Sir P. Do, do, my lord, and I wull come to
Sergeant Eitherside wishes ye weel, and ye him, you presently.
I think noow he would be as gude a mon to be   Lord L. Very well, my dear Mac, I shall exreturned for yane of those boroughs as could be pect you.                  [Exit singing.
pitched upon, and ass such I humbly recommend    Sir P. So! a leetle flattery, mixed wi' the
him to your lordship's consideration.        finesse of a guilded promise on yane side, and a
Lord L. Why, my dear Sir Pertinax, to tell quantum sufficit of the aurum palpabile on the
you the truth, I have already promised him; he other, have at last made me the happiest father in
must be in for one of them; and that is one reason  Great Britain, and feel nothing but dignity and
why I insisted so strenuously-he must be in.    elevation.   aud! haud! bide a wee! bide a
Sir P. And why not 3-why not 3 is nae yeer wee! I ha'e yane leetle mair in this affair till adword a fiat 3 and wull it nae be always so till me 3 just, and then, Sir Pertinax, ye may dictate till
are ye nait my friend, my patron? and are we fortune herself, and send her till govern feuls;
nait by this match of out children to be united while ye show, and convince the world that wise
intill yane interest'                     men always govern her. Wha's there!
Lord L. So I understand it, I own, Sir Pertir P. My lord, it canna be otherwise-then  Tell my               SAM.
Sir heaven's sake, ass your lordshipit cand I ha'e otherwisethen Tell my son Egerton I would speak wit him
for heaven's sake, ass your lordship and I ha'e I ha'e settled the grand point [Exit. SAM.




SCENE I.]                THE MAN OF THE WORLD.                                           63
wi' my lord, this I think is the proper juncture public business has twa consciences; mind, Sir,
till feel the political pulse of my spark, and yance twa consciences; a releegious and a poleetical confoi aw till set it to the exact measure that I would science-you see a mairchant, or a shopkeeper,
ha'e it constantly beat.                       that kens the science of the world, always luocks
upon an oath in a custom-house, or behind a
Enter EGERTON.                  counter, only as an oath in business-a thing
Come hither, Charles.                           of course-a mere thing o' course, that has naeEger. Your pleasure, Sir?                   thing till do wi' releegion; and just so it is at an
Sir P. About twa hours since I told you, election, exactly the same-for instance, noow, I
Charles, that I received this letter express, cor- am a candidate —pray observe-I gang till a periplaining of your brother's acteevity at an election  wig-maker, a hatter, or a hosier, and I give ten,
i' the north, against a particular friend of nine; twanty, or tharty guineas, for a periwig, a hat, or
which has given great offence; and, Sir, ye are a pair of hose, and so on through a majority o'
mentioned in the letter, ass weel ass he.  To be voters; vary weel, what is the consequence 2 why,
plain, I must roundly tell ye, that on this inter- this commercial intercourse, ye see, begets a friendview depends my happiness, ass a mon and a ship betwixt us, and in a day or twa, these men
faither, and my affection till ye, Sir, ass a son, for gang and give me their suffrages. Weel, what is
the remainder of your days.                    the inference, pray, Sir q can ye, or ainy lawyer,
Eger. I hope, Sir, I shall never do any thing divine, or casuist, caw this a bribe  nae, Sir, in
either to forfeit your affection, or disturb your fair poleetical reasoning, it is ainly generosity on
happiness.                                     the yane side, and gratitude on the ither-so, Sir,
Sir P. I hope so too; but to the point-the let me ha'e na mair of yeer releegious or philosofact is this. There has been a motion made this phical refinements; but prepare-attend-and
vary day, to bring on the grand affair, which is speak till the question, or ye are nae son o' minesettled for Friday se'nnight: noow, Sir, ass ye are Sir, 1 insist upon it.
popular, ha'e talents, and are weel heard, it is ex- 
pacted, and I insist upon it, that ye endeavour till
atone for yeer misconduct, by preparing and    Sam. Sir, my lord says the writings are now
taking a lairge share in that question, and sup- ready, and his lordship and the lawyers are waitporting it wi' aw your poower.                 ing for you and Mr. Egerton.
Eger. But, Sir, I hope you will not so exert   Sir P. Vary weel; we'll attend his lordship.
your influence, as to insist upon my supporting a [Exit SAM.] Come, Sir, let us gang doown and
measure by an obvious prostituted sophistry, in  despatch the business.
direct opposition to my character and my con-                  [Going, is stopped by EGERTON
science.                                          Eger. Sir, with your permission, I beg you
Sir P. Conscience! did ye ever hear ainy man  will first hear me a word or two upon this subtalk of conscience in poleetical maiters  con- ject.
science, quotha!-I ha'e been in parliament these    Sir P. Weel, Sir; what would ye say.
three-and-tharty years, and never heard the term    Eger. I have often resolved to let you know
made use of before-Sir, it is an unparliamentary  [Bows very low.] my aversion to this match.
word, and ye wull be laughed at for it.           Sir P. Hoow, Sir 1
Eger. Then, Sir, I must frankly tell you, that   Eger. But my respect and fear of disobliging
you work against my nature-you would connect you, hitherto kept me silent.
me with men I despise, and press me into mea-   Sir P. Your avarsion! hoow dare ye use sic
sures I abhor. For know, Sir, that the malignant language till me? your avarsion! luock ycu, Sir,
ferment, which the venal ambition of the times I shall cut the matter vary short-Conseedez-my
provokes in the heads and hearts of other men-I fortune is nae inheritance; aw my ain aquiseetion;
detest.                                        I can make ducks and drakes of it; so do not
Sir P. What are ye aboot, Sir"; with your provoke me, but sign the articles directly.
malignant, yeer venal ambeetion, and your ro-   Eger. I beg your pardon, Sir; but I must be
mantic nonsense?  Sir, every mon should be free on this occasion, and tell you at once, that I
ambeetious till serve his country-and every mon  can no longer dissemble the honest passion that
should be rewarded for it. And pray, Sir, would  fills my heart for another woman.
not ye wish till serve yeer country? answer me    Sir P. Hoow! another woman! ah, ye villain,
that, I say, would not ye wish till serve your how  dare ye love another woman without my
country 1                                      parmission-but what other woman?  wha is she?
-Eger. Only show me how  I can serve my speak, Sir, speak.
country, and my life is her's. —Were I qualified    Eger. Constantia.       [Bowing very low.
to lead her armies, to steer her fleets, and deal her   Sir P. Constantia! Oh, ye profligate! what, a
honest vengeance on her insulting foes; or could  creature taken in for charity?
my eloquence pull down a state leviathan, mighty    Eger. Her poverty is not her crime, Sir, but
by the plunder of his country, black with the her misfortune; and virtue, though covered with a
treasons of her disgrace, and send his infamy  village garb, is virtue still; therefore, Sirdown to free posterity, as a monumental terror to    Sir P. Haud veer jabbering, ye villain! haud
corrupt ambition, I would be foremost in such  yeer jabbering! none of yeer romance, or refineservice, and act it with the unremitting ardour of ment, till me. 1 ha'e but yane question till ask
a Roman spirit.                                 ye, but yane question, and then I ha'e done wi' ye
Sir P. Why, ye are mad, Sir; stark, staring, for ever —for ever-therefore think before ye
raving mad; certainly the fellow has been bitten  answer; wull ye marry the lady, or wull ve break
by some mad whig or other! ye are vary young-  my heart?
vary young, indeed, in these matters; but experi-   Eger. Sir, my presence shall not offend 0you
ence wull convince ye, Sir, that every mon in  any longer: but when reason and reflection take




64                      THE MAN OF THE WORLD.                                        [ACT V.
their turn, I am sure you will not be pleased with    Bet. Never fear, Sir.             [Exit
yourself for this unpaternal passion.    [Going.   Sir P. Wha's there!
Sir P. Tarry, I command you-and I command ye likewise not to stir till ye ha'e given me             Enter TMLIN.
yane  answer-a defeenitive answer-wull ye Where is Maister Sidney.
marry the lady, or wull ye not?                  Tom. In the drawing-room, Sir.
Eger. Since you command me, Sir, know then      Sir P. Tell him I would speak wi' him. [Exit
that I cannot-will not marry her.       [Exit.  TOMLiNS.] Why suppose this Sidney noow
Sir P. Oh! the villain has shot me through  should be privy till his friend Charles' love for
the head; he has cut my vitals! I shall run dis- Constantia-what then, gude traith, it is natural
tracted-there never was sic a bargain ass I ha'e till think that his ain love wull demand the premade wi' this feulish lord-possession of his whole ference-ay, and obtain it too-yas! yas! selfestate, wi' three boroughs upon it; sax members! self! is an ailoquent advocate on these occasionswhy, what an acquiseetion, what consequence! for only make it a mon's interest till be a rascal,
what dignity, what weight till the house of Mac- and I think ve may safely depend upon his insycophant —O! domn the fellow-three boroughs, tegreety in serving himsel.
only for sending doon  six  broomsticks-Oh!                    Enter SIDNEY.
miserable; ever since this fallow came intill the
world have I been secretly preparing him for the    Sid. Sir Pertinax, your servant. Mr. Tomlins
seat of ministerial dignity, and sure never, never told me you desired to speak with me.
were times so favourable-every thing conspires  ir P. Yes, I wanted till speak wi' ye upon.
were times so favourable —every thing conspires;veysnuabsiss              MitrSdn
for aw the auld poleetical posthorses are broken- very singular business.-Maister  Sidney, give
winded, and foundered, and canna get on; and  me yeer hond, gin it did na luock like flattery
(which I detest,) I would tell ye, Maister Sidney,
ass till the rising generation, the vanity of sur- (which I detest,)I would tell ye, Maister  idney,
passing yane another in what they feulishly aw  that ye are an honour till your cloth, yeer country,
taste and ailegance, binds them hond and foot in  and till human nature.
the chains of luxury; which wull always set them  Sid. Sir, you are very obliging.
up till the best bidder; so that if they can but get    ir P. Sit ye doon here, Maister Sidney  sit
wherewithal till supply their dissipation, a meenis- ye doon here by me —my friend.  [They sit.]
ter may convert the poleetical morals of aw sic 1 am under the greatest obligations till ye, for the
voluptuaries intill a vote that would sell the nation care ye ha'e taken of Charles-the principles,
till Prester John, and their boasted leeberties till releegious, moral, and poleetical, that ye ha'e inthe great Mogul.                         Exit. fused intill him, demand the warmest return of
gratitude, baith fra him and fra me.
ACT  V.                        Sid. Your approbation, Sir, next to that of my
own conscience, is the best test of my endeavours,
SCENE  I-r-A Library.               and the highest applause they can receive.
Ee P i     an TY  Sir P. Sir, ye deserve it, richly deserve it; and
Enter SIR PERT   an  BETTY.   noow, Sir, the same care that ye ha'e had of
Sir P. Come this way, Betty, come this way; Charles, the same my wife has taken of hier
ve are a gude girl, and I'll reward you for this favourite, and sure never were accomplishments,
discovery. Oh! the villain! offer her marriage!'  knowledge, or principles, social and releegious,
Bet. It is true, indeed; I would not tell your impressed intill a better nature than Constantia's.
honour a lie for the world; but in troth it lay upon    Sid. In truth, Sir, I think so too.
my conscience, and I thought it my duty to tell   Sir P. She is, besides, a gentlewoman, and of
your worship.                                  ass gude a family as any in this county.
Sir P. Ye are right, ye are right; it was yeer    Sid. So I understand, Sir.
duty to tell me, and I'll reward you for it; ye say    Sir P. Sir, her faither had a vast estate; the
Maister Sidney is in love wi' her too-pray, how  which he dissipated, and melted in feastings, and
came you by that intelligence.                friendships, and charities, hospitalities, and sic
Bet. Oh! Sir, I know when folks are in love, kind of nonsense-but to the business.-Maister
let them strive to hide it as much as they will; I Sidney, I love ye-yas, I love you, and ha'e been
know it by Mr. Sidney's eyes, when I see him  Iuocking oot, and contriving hoow till settle ye in
stealing a sly side-look at her; by his trembling, the world: Sir, I want till see ye comfortably and
his breathing short, his sighing when they are honourably fixed at the heed of a respectable
reading together-besides, Sir, he made love verses family, anda gin ye were my ain son, a thoosand
upon her, in praise of her virtue, and her playing  times, I could na mak' a mair valuable present till
upon the music; ay! and I suspect another thing, ye for that purpose, ass a partner for life, than this
Sir; she has a sweetheart, if not a husband, not same Constantia, wi' sic a fortune doon wi' her
far from hence.                                ass ye yoursel shall deem to be competent: ay,
Sir P. Wha! Constantia'                     and an assuranee of every canonical contingency
Bet. Ay, Constantia, Sir-Lord, I can know  in my poower till confer or promote.
the whole affair, Sir, only for sending over to    Sid. Sir, your offer is noble and friendly; but
Hadley, to farmer Hilford's youngest daughter, though the highest station would derive lustre
Sukey Hilford.                                  from Constantia's charms and worth; yet, wer
Sir P. Then send this instant, and get me a she more amiable than love could paint her in the
particular account of it.                      lover's fancy, and wealthy beyond the thirst of
Bet. That I will, this minute, Sir.          the miser's appetite, I could not-would not wed
Sir P. In the meantime keep a strict watch her.                                      [Rises.
upon Constantia-and be sure ye bring me word    Sir P. Not wed her! odzwins, mon! ye surprise
of whatever new matter ye can pick up aboot her, me! why so. what hinders.          [Rises.
my son, or this Hadley husband or sweetheart.     Sid. I beg you will not ask a reason for my




SC1N Ii.]             THE- MAN. OF THE WORLD.                                         65
refusal; -but, briefly and finally, it cannot bej nor   Sir P. I ha'e done wi' ye-I.ha'e done wi' ye.
is it. a subject I can longer converse upon.  Ay, ay, noow I can account for my son's conduct;
Sir P.' Weel Sir, I ha'e done, I ha'e done-.sit his avarsion till courts, till meenisters, levees,
doon, mon —sit doon again-sit ye doon. [They  public business,.and his disobedience till my cornsit.] t shall mention it no more-not- but I must mands —a perfeedious fellow-ye're a Judas! ye
confess honestly till ye, friend Sidney, that the: ha'e ruined the morals of my son, ye villain,. but I
match, had ye approved of my proposal,- besides  ha'e done wi' ye; however, this 1 wull prophesy
profiting you, would ha'e been of singular sarvice at oor pairting, for your comfort, that gin ye. air
till me likewise; hoowever, ye may still sarve me so vary squeamish in obliging your patron, ye'll
ass effectually ass ifye had married her..    never rise in the church.
Sid. Then, Sir, I am sure I will most heartily.   Sid. Though my conduct, Sir, should. not
Sir/ P. I believe it, I believe it, friend Sidney, make me rise in her power, I am sure it will in
and I thank ye. I ha'e nae friend till depend  her favour-in the favour of my own conscience
upon but yoursel-my heart is almost broke-I too, and in the esteem of all worthy men; and
canna help these tears; and to tell ye the fact at that, Sir, is a power and dignity beyond what
yance, your friend Charles is struck wi' a most patrons of any denomination can confer.  [Exit.
dangerous malady, a kind of insanity-in short,. Sir P. What a reegorous, saucy, stiff-necked
this Constantia, I am afraid, has cast an evil eye fallow it is!-[ see my folly noow; I am undone
upon him-do ye understand me?                 by my ain policy! this Sidney was the last man
Sid. Not very well, Sir.                    that should ha'e been about my son. The fallow
Sir P. Why, he is grievously smitten wi'.the indeed, hath given him principles that might ha'e
love of her, and I am afraid will never be cured' done vary weel among the ancient' Romans, but
withoot a leetle of your assistance.          are domned unfit for the modern Britons —weel!
Sid. Of my assistance!- pray, Sir, in what gin I had a thoosand sons, I never would suffer
mannerS                                       yane of yeer English univarsity bred fellows, till
Sir P. In what manner! Lord, Maister Sid- be, aboot a son of mine again; for they ha'e sic an
ney, how can ye be so dull? Now then, my vary, a pride of leeterature and character, and sic saucy
gude friend, gin ye would take an opportunity to English notions of leeberty, conteenually fermentspeak a gude word for him till the wench, and  ing in their thoughts, that a   man is never sure of one
contrive to bring them together once, why, in a of them; but what am I to do? Zoons, he must
few days after, he would nae care a pinch o': snuff nae marry this beggar-I canna sit, doon tamely
for her. [SIDNEY starts up.] What is the matter under that-stay, haud a wee; by the blood, I
wi' ye, mon-what the deevil gars ye start and have it-yas! I ha'e hit upon't.
luock so astonished?
Sid. Sir, you amaze me! In what part of my                 Enter BETTY.
mind, or conduct, have you found that baseness,   Bet. Oh! Sir, I have got the whole secret out.
which entitles you to treat me with this indignity  Sir P. Aboot what 
Sir P. Indignity-what indignity do ye mean,   Bet. About Miss Constantia; I have just had
Sir? Is asking ye till serve a friend wi' a wench all-the particulars from farmer- Hilford's youngest
an indignity?  Sir, am not I'your patron and; daughter, Sukey Hilford.
benefactor, ha?                                 Sir P. Weel, weel, but what is the story?
Sid. You are, Sir, and I feel your bounty at quick, quick, what is it? 
my heart-but the virtuous gratitude, that sowed.. Bet. Why, Sir,: it is certain that Mrs. Conthe deep sense of it there, does not inform me, stantia has a sweetheart, or a husband, a sort of
that in return, the tutor's sacred function, or the: a gentleman, or a gentleman's gentleman, they
social virtue of the man, must be debased into the don't know which, that lodges at Gaffer Hodges';
pupil's pander, or the patron's prostitute.  for Sukey says she saw them together last night
Sir P. Hoow! what, Sir, do -ye dispute?  are in the dark walk, and Mrs. Constantia was all in
ye na my dependant-ha! and do ye hesitate tears.
aboot an ordinary civeelity, which is practised    Sir P. Ah! I am afraid this is too gude news
every day by men and women of the first fashion? till be true.
Sir, let me tell ye, however nice ye may be, there   Bet. Oh! Sir, it is certainly true; besides, Sir,
is nae a dependant aboot the coort that would.nae she has just writ a letter to the gallant; and I
jump at sic an oppertunity till oblige his patron.  have sent John Gardener to her, who is to carry
Sid. Indeed, Sir, I believe the doctrine of pimp- it to him to Hadley; now, Sir, if your worship
ing for patrons may be learned- in every party  would seize the letter. See, see, Sir, here John
school: for where faction and public venality are comes, with the letter in his hand!
taught as measures necessary to the prosperity. - Sir P. Go, go; step ye out, Betty, and leave
af the Briton and the patriot-there every vice is the fallow till me.
to be expected.                                 Bet. I will, Sir.                    [ExitSir P. Oho! oho! vary weel, fine insinuations!
I ken what ye glance at-yas, ye-intend this satire  Enter JOHN, with a packet and a letter.
as a slander upon meenisters-ay! ay! fine sedee-.  John. There, go you into my pocket. [Puts
tion against government. —Oh! ye villain —ye- up the packet.] There's nobody in the library -
ye sirrah-ye are a black sheep, and I'll mark ye, so I'll e'en go through the short way; let me see
and represent ye: I'll draw'your picture-ah.! ah1 what is the name —Mel-Meltil-Oh! no! MelI am glad ye show yoursel-yas, yas-ye ha'e ville, at Gaffier Hodges'.
taken off the mask at last: ye ha'e been in my    Sir P. What letter is. that, Sir?.
service for many years, ye hypocrite! ye impos.   John. Letter, Sir!
tor-but I never knew your principles before,    Sir P. Give it me, Sir.
Sid. Sir, you never affrohted them before; if   John. An't please your honour, Sir-it.-it is
you had, you should have known them sooner.   not mine.
VOL. I.... 1         6*




66                     THE MAN OF THE WORLD.                                      [ACrTV.
Sir P. Deliver it this instant, Sirrah; or I'll   Lady M1. As well as I do my own, Sir; it is
break yeer head.                              Constantia's,
John. There, there, your honour.              Sir P. It is so; and a better evidence it lq,
[ Gives the letter to SIR PERTINAX. than any that can be given by the human tongue;
Sir P. Be gone, rascal-this I suppose wull here is a warm, rapturous, lascivious letter, under
let us intill the whole business.             the hypocritical siren's ain hond; her ain hond,
John. You have got the letter, old surly, but Sir, her ain hond. But judge yourselves-read
the packet is safe in my pocket. I'll go and  it.
deliver that, however; for I wull be true to poor   Eger. [Reads.] I have only time to tell you,
Mrs. Constantia, in spite of you.  [Aside: exit. that thefamily came down sooner than I expectSir. P. [Reading the letter.] Um!-Um!-  ed, and that Icannot bless my eyes with the sight
Um! And bless my eyes with the sight of you. qf you till the evening.  The notes and jewels,
Um! um! Throw myself into your dear arms. which the bearer will deliver to you, were preZoouns, this letter is invaluable i           sented to me, since I saw you, by the son of my
benefactorEnter BETT'Y.                    Sir P. Now, mark.
Oh! Betty, ye are an axcellent wench, this letter   Eger. [Reads.] All which I beg you will conis worth a million.                           vert to your own immediate use, for my heart
Bet. Is it as I suspected, Sir, to her sweet- has no room for any wish, or fortune, but what
heart s                                       contributes to your relief and happiness.Sir P. It is-it is! bid Constantia pack oot of    Sir P. Oh, C    harles i do ye see, Sir,
the house this instant; and let them get the chaise what a dupe she makes of you 2 But mark what
ready to carry her wherever she pleases but first follows; mark, Charles, mark.
send my wife and son hither.                    Eger. [Reads.l (h, how 1 longBet. I shall, Sir.                            Sir P. Mark.
Sir P. Do so, be gone. [Exit BETTY.] Aha I   Eger. [Reads.] To throw myself into your
Maister Charles, I believe I shall cure your passion  dear, dea armsfor a vartuous beggar noow; I think he canna be    Sir P. Mark, mark.
so infatuated as to be a dupe till a strumpet-let   Eger. [Reads.] To sooth yourfears, your apme see-hoow am I till act noow  -why, like a prehensions, and your sorrows. I have sometrue poleetician, I must pretend mnost sincerely, thing to tell you of the utmost moment, but will
where I intend most deceit.                   reserve it till we meet this evening in the dark
walkEnter LADY MACSYCOPHANT and EGERTON.   In the dark walk!
Sir P. In the dark walk-ah! an evil-eyed
Weel, Charles, notwithstanding the meesery ye curse upon her! yas, yas, she has been often in
ha'e brought upon me, I ha'e sent for ye and yeer the dark walk, I believe-but read, read!
mother, in order till convince ye baith of my af-   Eger. [Reads.] In the meantime, banish all
fection, and my readiness till forgive; nay, and fears, and hope the best, from fortune, and your
even till indulge your parvarse passion; for since ever dutiful and ever affectionate
I find this Constantia has got hold of your heart,                   Constantia Harrington.
and that your mother and ye think that ye can    Sir P. There, there's a warm epistle for you!
never be happy withoot her, why I'll nae longer in short, the fact is-the hussy, ye must know, is
oppose your inclinations.                     married till the fallow.
Eger. Dear Sir, you snatch me from the sharp-   Eger. Not unlikely, Sir.
est misery. On my knees, let my heart thank    Lady MI. Indeed, by her letter, I believe she is.
you for this goodness.                           Sir P. Noow, Madam, what amends can ye
Lady M. Let me express my thanks too, and make me for countenancing your son's passion for
my joy; for had you not consented to his marry- sic an a reptile 2 and ye, Sir, what ha'e you till
ing her, we all should have been miserable.   say for your disobedience and your frenzy 2 Oh!
Sir P. Weel, I am glad I ha'e found a way  Charles! Charles, you'll shorten my days!
till please ye baith at last —but noow, my dear                                  [Sits down.
Charles, suppose noow, that this spotless vestal,   Eger. Pray, Sir, be patient-compose yourthis wonder of vartue, this idol of your heart, self a moment; I will make you any compensashould be a concealed wanton after aw!        tion in my power.
Eger. A wanton, Sir!             [Eagerly.    Sir P. Then instantly sign the articles of
Sir P. Or suppose that she should have an  marriage.
engagement of marriage, or an intrigue wi' another   Eger. The lady, Sir, has never yet been conmon, and is only making a dupe of ye aw this suited, and I have some reason to believe that her
time; I say, only suppose it, my dear, dear Charles; heart is engaged to another man.
what would ye think of her 2                    Sir P: Sir, that is nae business of yours-I
Eger. I should think her the most deceitful, know she wull consent; and that's aw we are till
and the most subtle of her sex, and if possible consider. Oh! here comes my lord!
would never think of her again.
Sir P. Wull ye give me yeer honour of that           Enter LORD LUMBERCOURT.
Eger. Most solemnly, Sir.                     Lord L. Sir Pertinax, every thing is ready,,Sir P. Enough-I am satisfied. [Cries with  and the lawyers wait for us.
joy.] You make me young again; I was afraid    Sir P. We attend your lordship; where is
ye were fascinated wi' the charms of a crack. Do  Lady Rodolpha 2
ye ken this hond?                              Lord L. Giving some female consolation to
Eger. Mighty well; Sir.                     poor Constantia. Why, my lady! ha! ha! ha!
Sir P. And ye, Madam?                      I hear your vestal, Constantia, has been flirting!




SCENE I.]             THE MAN OF THE WORLD.                                         67
Sir P. Yas, yas, my lord, she is in very gude better than she should be-she has had nae
order for ainy mon that wants a wife, and an heir damage in this mansion; but ye may gang till
till his estate, intill the bargain.         Hadley, till yane farmer Hodges, and there ye
may learn the whole story, fra a cheeA they caw
Enter TOMLINS.                Melville.
Tom. Sir, there's a man below, that wants to   Mel. Melville!
speak to your honour upon particular business.  Sir P. Yas, Sir; Melville.
Sir P. Sir, I canna speakl till any body noow-    Mel. O! would to heaven she had no crime to
he must come another time; haud-stay, what, is answer but her commerce with Melville-no, Sir,
he a gentleman?                             he is not the man; it is your son, your Egerton,
Tom. -Ie looks something like one, Sir; a sort that has seduced her! and here, Sir, are the eviof a gentleman; but he seems to be in a kind of a dences of his seduction.
passion; for when I asked his name, he answered    Eger. Of my seduction, Sir?
hastily,'tis no matter, friend, go tell your master  M1el. Of yours, Sir, if your name be Egerton.
there is a gentleman here, that must speak to him    Eger. I am that man, Sir; but pray what is
directly.                                    your evidence I
Sir P. Must! ha! very peremptory indeed!   Mel. These bills, and these gorgeous jewelspr'ythee let's see this angry sort of a gentleman not to be had in her menial state, but at the price
for curiosity's sake.        [Exit TOMLINS. of chastity; not an hour since she sent them, imEnter LADY RODOLPHsA.             pudently sent them, by a servant of this house;
contagious infamy started from their touch.
Lady R. Oh! my Lady Macsycophant, I am    Eger. Sir, perhaps you may be mistaken concome an humble advocate for a weeping piece of cerning the terms on which she received them;
female frailty; who begs she may be permitted to do you but clear her conduct with respect to Melspeak till your ladyship, before you finally repro- ville, and [ will instantly satisfy your fears conbate her.                                    concerning the jewels and her virtue.
Sir P. I beg your pardon, Lady Rodolpha,.Mel. Sir, you give me newA life; you are my
but it must not be; see her, she shall not.  better angel-I believe in your words, your looksLady M. Nay, there can be no harm, my dear  know then-I am that Melville.
in hearing what she has to say for herself.    Sir P. Hoow, Sir! ye that Melville, that was
Sir P. 1 tell you, it shall not be.       at farmer Hodges'?
Lady M1. Well, well, my dear, I have done, I   Mel. The same, Sir; it was he brought my
have done.                                   Constantia to my arms; lodged and secreted meEnter TOMLINS and MELVILLE.           once my lowly tenant, now my only friend;
the fear of inexorable creditors made me change
Tom. Sir, that is my master.              my name from Harrington to Melville, till I could
Sir P. Weel, Sir, pray what is your urgent'see and consult some who once called themselves
business wi' me, Sir  my friends.
Mel. To shun disgrace and punish baseness.   Eger. Sir, suspend your fears and anger but
Sir P. Punish baseness? what does the fallow  for a few minutes-I will keep my word with you
mean? wha are ye, Sir 7                     religiously; and bring your Constantia to your
2A'el. A man, Sir.                         arms, as virtuous and as happy as you could wish
Sir P. A mon, Sir!                        her.
Mel. And one whose spirit and fortune once
bore as proud a sway as any within this country's  [Exeunt LADY MACSYCOPHANT and EGERTON.
limits.                                        Sir P. The clearing up of this wench's virLord L. You seem to be a soldier, Sir!   tue is domned anlucky! I'm afraid it wull ruin
AMel. I was, Sir, and have the soldier's cer- aw oor affairs again-hoowever, I ha'e yane stroke
tificate, to prove my service-rags and scars: for still in my heed, that wull secure the bargain wi'
ten long years, in India's parching clime, I bore my lord, let matters gang as they wull. [Aside.]
my country's cause, and in noblest dangers sus- But I wonder, Maister Melville, that ye did nae
tained it with my sword-at length ungrateful pick up some leetle matter of silver in the Indiespeace has laid me down, where welcome war first Ah! there ha'e been bonny fortunes snapped up
took me up-in poverty-and the dread of cruel there of late years by some of the meelitary
creditors. Paternal affection brought me to my blades.
native land, in quest of an only child. I found   Mel. Very true, Sir; but it is an observation
her, as I thought, amiable as paternal fondness among soldiers, that there are some men who
could desire; but foul seduction has snatched her never meet with any thing in the service but
from me; and hither am I come, fraught with a blows and ill fortune-I was one of those, even to
father's anger, and a soldier's honour, to seek the a proverb.
seducer, and glut revenge.                     Sir P. Ah!'tis pity, Sir; a great pity, noow,
Lady M. Pray, Sir, who is your daughter?    that ye did nae get a mogul, or some sic an aniMel. I blush to own her-but-Constantia.    mal, intill your clutches-Ah! I should like till
Omnes. I-low!                             ha'e the strangling of a nabob-the rummaging
Lady M. Constantia!                       of his gold dust, his jewel closet, and aw his
Eger. Is Constantia your daughter, Sir  magazines of bars and ingots; ha! ha! ha! gude
Alel. She is, and was the only comfort that traith, noow, sic an a fellow would be a bonny
nature, fortune, or my own extravagance, had left cheel to bring over till this toown, and till exhibit
me.                                         him riding on an elephant; upon honour, a mon
Sir P. Gude traith, then I fancy ye wull find might raise a poll tax by him that would gang
but vary little comfort fra her; for she is nae near till pay the debts of the nation!




68                     THE MAN OF THE WORLD.                                   [ACT V.
Enter EGERTON, CONSTANTIA, LADY -MAcsYCO- duns, debts, or daughter;- only let me - be at my
PHANT, and SIDNEY.               ease, and ratme if I care one pinch of snuff if her
Eger. Sir, I "promised' to satisfy your fears ladyship concorporates with the cham-nof Tartary.
concerning your daughter's virtue; and my best                  [Exit LORD LUMBERCOURT.
proof to you and all the world, that I think her   Sir P. Ass to ye, my Lady Macsycophant, 1
not only chaste, but the most deserving of her sex, suppose ye concluded, before ye gave your consent
is, that I have made her the partner of my heart, till this match, that there -would be an end of
and the tender guardian of my earthly happiness every thing betwixt ye and me; ye shall ha'e
for life!                                    a jointure,: but'not a bawbee besides, living or
Sir P. ttoow married!                    dead, shall ye, or any of your issue, ever see of
Eger. I know, Sir, at present we shall meet mine; so, Madam, live wi' yeer Constantia, wi'
your anger —but time, reflection, and our dutiful yeer son, and wi' that-that damned black sheep
conduct, we hope., will reconcile you to our hap- there.              Eit SIR PERTINAX.
piness.                                        Lady R. Weel, cousin Egerton, in spite o' the
Sir P. Naver, naver; and could I make ye, ambeetious frenzy o' your father, and the thoughther, and aw your issue, beggars-I would move less deesipation o' mine, don Cupid has at last
hell, heaven, and earth till effect it.      carried his point in favour o' his devotees; but I
Lord L. Why, Sir Pertinax, this is a total mun noow take my leave with the fag-end of an
revolution, and will entirely ruin my affairs.  auld north country wish, brought fra the hospitaSir P. My lord, wi' the consent of your lord- ble land of fair Strathbogie; may mutual love and
ship and Lady Rodolpha, I ha'e an expedient till gude humour ever be the guest of your hearts, the
offer, that w ull not ainly punish that rebellious: theme of your tongues, and- the blighsome phanvillain, but answer every end that your lordship  tom  of aw your tricksy- dreams through the
and Lady Rodolpha proposed by the intended rugged road of this crooked, deceitful world; and
match wi' him.                               may our fathers be an example to oorsels, that
Lord L. I doubt it much, Sir Pertinax: I will remind us to treat oor bairns, should heaven
doubt it much: but what is it, Sir. what is your croon our endeavours, wi' more lebeerality and
expedients                                   affection, than that with which oor fathers have
Sir P. My lord, I ha'e another son, my son treated us!          [Exit LADY RODOLPHA.
Sandy, he is a gude lad; and provided the leady    Eger. You seem melancholy, Sir.
and your lordship ha'e nae objection tillthim, every   A'iel. These precarious turns of fortune,  Sir,
article of that rebel's intended marriage shall be will press upon the'heart: for notwitstanding my
amply fulfilled, upon Lady Rodolpha's union with Constantia's happiness, and mine in hers, I own
my younger son, Sandy.                       I cannot help feeling some regret, that my misLord L. Why, that is an expedient, indeed, fortunes should be cause of- any disagreement
Sir Pertinax; but what say you, Rodolpha?   between a father: and the man to whom I am
Lady R.. Nay, nay, my lord, ass. I had nae under the most endearing obligations.
reason till ha'e the least affection till my cousin    Eger. You, Sir, have no share in his disaEgerton, and'ass my intended marriage wi' him  greement; for had not you- been born, from my
was entirely an act of obedience till my grand- father's nature, some other cause of his resentmother, provided.my: cousin Sandy wull be as ment must have happened; and angry vicissitudes
agreeable till her ladyship, ass my cousin Charles have taken their leave of us all: if affluence can
here would ha'e been-I have nae the least ob- procure content and ease; they are within our
jection till the change; ay, ay, upon honour yane reach. My fortune is ample, and shall be dedibrother is ass gude till Rodolpha ass another.    cated to the happiness of this domestic circle.
Sir P. I'll answer, Madam, for your grand- My scheme, though mock'd by knave, coquette,
mother; noow, my lord, what say you?                and fool,
Lord L. Nay, Sir Pertinax, so the agreement To thinking minds must prove this golden rule:
stands, all is right again; come, child, let us be In all pursuits-but chiefly in a wife,
gone. Look ye, Sir Pertinax, let me have no Not wealth, but morals, make the happy life.
more perplexity or trouble about writings, lawyers,                             [Exeunt.




THE APPRENTICE:
A FARCE,
IN TWO ACTS.
BY ARTHUR MURPHY.
REMARKS.
Tins is- an ingenious satire on a pernicious, folly prevalent among many young people, who, without the- requisite talent, lose their time and reputation in attempts on the works of authors, who would be unable, in such
hands, to recognise their own offspring. It was first performed in 1756, at Drury Lane, and has induced a great
reform; though many stage-struck heroes still "leave their calling for this idle trade." The performance of
Dick, by Mr. John Bannister, and his admirable recitation of the prologue, were fortunate-instances of that gen?
tleman's comic versatility.
it9 The marginal references to the numerous quotations, in the character of Dick, from other dramatic writers,
interfere so unpleasantly with the text, that they are omitted in the modern editions; they, however, considerably
heighten the effect of the piece, and are easily traced by readers at all conversant with the drama.
DRAMATIS PERSONiE.
As originally acted at DRURY LANE; 1756.                DRURY LANE, 1815.
WINGATE... Mr. Yates..........                          Mr. Gattie.
DICK,.....Mr. Woodward..........                            Mr. Bannister.
GARGLE,...... Mr. Burton.......... Mr. Penson.
SIMON,......           Mr. H. Vaughan...................      Mr. Oxberry.
SCOTSMAN.................. Mr. Blakes...........................Mr. Carr.
IRISHMAN,......        Mr. Jefferson............................ Fisher.
CATCHPOLE,.......               Mr. Vaughan..........................Mr. Maddocks.
CHARLOTTE;......                 Miss Minors........  Mrs. Orge
Spouting Club, Watchmen, &c.
PROLOGUE.                       From real life our little cloth is fitl'd.
WRITTEN BY MR. GARRICi.                  The hero is a youth,-by Fate design'd
For culling simples,-but whose stage-struck mind
Spoken by MR. BANNISTER.              Nor Fate could rule, nor his indentures bind.
PROLOGUES precede the piece-in mournful verse; A  place there is where such young Quixotes
As undertakers walk hefore a hearse;                    meet;
Whose doleful march may strike the harden'd'Tis call'd  the SPOUTING  CLUB,-a  glorious
mind,                                           treat,
And wake its feelings-for the dead-behind.      Where'prentic'd kings-alarm the gaping street:
To-night, no smuggled scenes from France we There Brutus starts and stares by midnight taper,
show,                                   Who, all the day, enacts —a -woollen-draper.'Tis English-English, Sirs!I-from top to toe.    There Hamlet's ghost stalks forth with doubled
Though coarse the colours and the hand un-              fist,
skill'd,                                Cries out with hollow voice,-" List, list, O list!"
69




70                           THE APPRENTICE.                                   [ACr I.
And'ightens Denmark's prince, a young tobac- send for him for- a sly, slow, hesitating blockconist.                               head! he'll only plague me with his physical cant
The spirit, too, cleared from his deadly white,    and his nonsense. Why dont you go, you booby,
Rise,,- a haberdasher to the sight!        when I bid you?
Not y.'ung attornies-have this rage withstood,  Sim. Yes, Sir.                    [Exit
But change their pens for truncheons, ink for   Win. This fellow will be the death of me a:
blood,                               last! I have been turmoiling for him all the days
And (.,range reverse!) die for their country's of my life, and now the scoundrel's run away.
good.                                Suppose I advertise the dog?-Ay, but if the vilTo chezk these heroes, and their laurels crop,    lain should dcceive me, and happen to be dead,
To bring'em back to reason-and their shop,    why then he tricks me out of six shillings-my
Our author wrote;-O  you, Tom, Jack, Dick, money's flung into the fire-.  Zookers, I'll not
Will i                               put myself in a passion; let him follow his noseWho hold the balance, or who gild the pill!'tis nothing at at all to me-what care I 3
Who wield the yard, and simpering pay your
Re-enter SIMON.
couct,
And, at each flourish, snip an inch too short!    What do you come back for, friend?
Quit not you( shops; there thrift and profit call,    Sim. As I was going out, Sir, the post came
Whilst here, y sung gentlemen are apt to fall!    to the door, and brought this letter.
[Bell rings.   Win. Let me see it. The gipsies have got
But soft!-the grompter calls!-brief let me be-  hold of him, ha, ha!  What a pretty fellow
Here groans yolu'll hear, and flying apples see,   you are! ha, ha!-Why don't you step where I
Be damn'd pei laps; farewell!-remember me!   bid you, Sirrah?
Sim. Yes, Sir.                     [Exit.
_Win. Well, well, I'm resolved, and it shall be
so-I'll advertise him to-morrow morning, and
ACT ~I                     promise, if he comes home, all shall be forgiven,
and when the blockhead comes, I may do as I
~S'CENE I.                  please, ha, ha! I may do as I please. Let me
see-he had on-slidikins, what signifies what
Enrer WINGATE and SIMON.            he had on? I'll read my letter, and think no
more about him,-Hey! what a plague have
W7in. Nay, nay, but I tell you I am convinced we here?1 [Mutters to himself.] Bristol-a-I know it is so; and so, friend, don't you think what's all this 
to trifle with me; I know you're in the plot, you
scoundrel; and if you don't discover all, I'll-  [Reads.] "Esteemedfriend,-Last was twenSim.  Dear heart, Sir, you won't give a body tieth ultimo, since none of thine, which will occatime.                                        sion brevity.  The r'eason of my writing to thee
Win. Zookers! a whole month missing, and no at present, is to inform thee that thy son came
account of him far or near! —Sirrah, I say he to our plece with a company of strollers, who
could not be'prentice to your master so long, and were taken up by the magistrate, and committed
you live so long in one house, with him, without as vagabonds to jail."-Zookers! I'm glad of
knowing his haunts and all his ways-and then, it-a villain of a fellow! let him lie there.-" I
vatlet, what brings you here tomy house sooften. am sorry thy lad should follow such profane
Sim. My master Gargle and I, Sir, are so un- courses; but out of the esteem I bear unto thee,
easy about un, that I have been running all over I have taken thy boy out of confinement, and sent
the town since morning to inquire for un; and so him of for your city in the waggon, which left
in nly way I thought I might'as well call here.   this four days ago. He is consigned to thy adWin. A  villain, to give his-'father all this dress, being the needfulfrom  thyfriend and
servant,
trouble. And so you have not heard any thing servant,                     R ROADBRIM.
"EBENEZER BROADBRIM."
of him, friend? 
Sim. Not a word, Sir, as I hope for marcy, Wounds! wnat did he take the fellow out for?
though, as sure as you are there, I believe I can A scoundrel, rascal! turned stage-player!-I'll
guess what's come on un. As sure as any thing, never see the villain's face. Who comes there?
master, the gipsies have gotten hold on un; and
we shall have un come home as thin as a l-ake.             Re-enter SIMON.
like the young girl in the city, with living upon    Sim. I met my master over the way, Sir.
nothing but crusts and water for six-and-twenty  Our cares are over. Here is Mr. Gargle, Sir.
days.                                          Win. Let him come in-and do you go down
Win. The gipsies have got hold of him, ye stairs, you blockhead.          [Exit SIMON.
blockhead! Get out of the room-Here you,                   Ent
Simon!                                                     Enter GARGLE.
Sim. Sir.                                  So, friend Gargle, here's a fine piece of workWin. Where are you going in such a hurry?  Dick's turned vagabond!
Let me see; what must be done?  A ridiculous    Gar. He must be put under a proper regimen
numskull, with his damned Cassanders and Clop- directly, Sir.-He arrived at my house within these
patras, and trumpery; with his romances, and his ten minutes, but in such a trim! He's now below
Odyssey Popes, and a parcel of rascals not worth stairs: I judged it proper to leave him there till I
a groat! Zookers! I'll not put myself in a:pas- had prepared you for his reception.
sion. Simon, do you step back to your master,   Win. Death and fire! what could put it into
my friend Gargle, and tell him I want to speak the villain's head to turn buffoon?
with him-though I don't know what I should    Gar. Nothing so easily accounted for: why




SCENE I.]                   THE APPRENTICE.                                         71
when he ought to be reading the Dispensatory, player! wounds! you'll not have an eye in your
there was he constantly reading over plays, and head in a month; ha, ha! you'll have'em knocked
farces, and Shakspeare.                      out of the sockets with withered apples-reWVin. Ay, that damned Shakspeare! I hear the member, I tell you so.
fellow was nothing but a deer-stealer in War-   Dick. A critic too! [ Whistles.] Well done old
wickshire! I never read Shakspeare. Wounds!  Squaretoes.
I caught the rascal myself reading that nonsensi-   WVin. Look ye, young man, take notice of
cal play of Hamlet, where the prince is keeping what I say: I made my own fortune, and I could
company with strollers and vagabonds. A fine do the same again. Wounds! if I were placed
example, Mr. Gargle.                         at the bottom of Chancery-lane, with a brush and
Gar. His disorder is of the malignant kind, and  black-ball, i'd make my own fortune again. You
my daughter has taken the infection from him. read Shakspeare! get Cocker's Arithmetic; you
Bless my heart!-she was as innocent as water- may buy it for a shilling on any stall-best book
gruel, till he spoiled her. I found her the other that ever was wrote.
night in the very fact.                        Dick. Pretty well, that; ingenious, faith!'Egad,
Win. Zookers! you don't say so? caught her the old fellow has a pretty notion of letters.
in the fact.                                                                       [Aside.
Gar. Ay, in the very fact of reading a play-    Win. Can you tell how much is five-eighths of
book in bed.                                 three-sixteenths of a pound? Five-eighths ofthreeWin. Oh, is that the fact you mean? Is that sixteenths of a pound. Ay, ay, I see you're a
all? though that's bad enough.              blockhead. Look ye, young man, if you have a
Gar. But I have done for my young madam; mind to thrive in this world, study figures, and
I have confined her to her room, and locked up make yourself useful-make yourself useful.
all her books.                                 Dick. How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Win. Look ye, friend Gargle, I'll never see seem to me all the uses of this world!   [Aside.
the villain's face. Let him follow his nose and    Win. Mind the scoundrel now.
bite the bridle.                                Gar. Do, Mr. Wingate, let me speak to him
Gar. Sir, I have found out that he went three -softly, softly-I'll touch him  gently.-Come,
times a week to a spouting club.             come, young man, lay aside this sulky humour,
Win. A spouting club, friend Gargle! what's and speak as becomes a son.
a spouting club?.                             Dick. 0, Jephtha, judge of Israel, what a treaGar. A meeting of'prentices, and clerks, and sure hadst thou!
giddy young men, intoxicated with plays; and so   WVin. What does the fellow say?
they meet in public houses, to act speeches; there    Gar. He relents, Sir. Come, come, young
they all neglect business, despise the advice of  man, he'll forgive.
their friends, and think of nothing but to become   Dick. They fool me to the top of my bent.
actors.'Gad, I'li hum'em, to get rid of'em-a truant
Win. You don't say so? a spouting club! disposition, good my lord. No, no,stay, that's not
wounds, I believe they are all mad.          right-I have a better speech. [Aside.] It is as
Gar. Ay, mad indeed, Sir: madness is occa- you say-when we are sober, and reflect but ever
sioned in avery extraordinary manner; the spirits so little on our follies, we are ashamed and sorry:
flowing in particular channels-              and yet, the very next minute, we rush again inWin..'Sdeath, you are as mad yourself as any  to the very same absurdities.
of them.                                        Win. Well said, lad, well said-Mind me,
Gar. And continuing to run in the same friend; commanding our own passions, and artducts-                                       fully taking advantage of other people's, is the
Win. Ducks! damn your ducks! Who's be- sure road to wealth. Death and fire!-but I
low there? Tell that fellow to come up.     won't put myself in a passion.'Tis my regard
Gar. Dear Sir, be a little cool-inflammatories for you makes me speak; and if 1 tell you you're
may be dangerous. —Do pray, Sir, moderate your a scoundrel,'tis for your good.
passions.                                      Dick. Without doubt, Sir. [Stifling a laugh.
Win. Pr'ythee be quiet, man; I'll try what I    Win. If you want any thing, you shall be procan do, Here he comes.                       vided. Have you any money in your pocket?
Enter DICK.                  Ha! ha! what a ridiculous numskull you are
now! ha! ha! Come, here's some money for you.
Dick. Now my good father, what's the matter? [Pulls out his money and looks at it.] I'll give it
Wgin. So, friend, you have been upon your to you another time; and so you'll mind what I
travels, have you? you have had your frolic? say to you, and make yourself useful for the future.
Look ye, young man, I'll not put myself in a pas-   Dick. Else, wherefore breathe 1 in a Chrission.  But, death and fire, you scoundrel, what tian land?
right have you to plague me in this manner?  do    Win. Zookers I you blockhead, you'd better
you think I must fall in love with your face, be- stick to your business, than turn buffoon, and get
cause I am your father?                     truncheons broke upon your arm, and be tumbling
Dick. A little more than kin, and less than  upon carpets.
kind.                                [Aside.   Dick. I shall in all my best obey you, daddy.
TWin. Ha, ha! what a pretty figure you cut   Win. Very well, friend-very well said-you
now! Ha, ha! why don't you speak, you block- may do very well if you please; and so I'll say no
head? have you nothing to say for yourself?  more to you, but make yourself useful; and so
Dick, Nothing to say for yourself. What an now go and clean yourself, and make ready to go
old prig it is.                      [Aside. home to your business-and mind me, young man,
Win. Mind me, friend, I have found you out; let me see no more play-books, and let me never
I see you'll never come to good. Turn stage- find that you wear a laced waistcoat-you scoun



72                          THE APPRENTICE.                                     [A TL
drel, what right have you to wear a laced waist-   Sim. Blessings on him! what is he about now.
coat i-I never wore a laced waistcoat!-never Why, the door is locked, master.
wore one till I was forty.-But I'll not put myself   Dick. Ay, but I can easily force the lock-you
in a passion-go and change your dress, friend.  shall see me do it as well as any Sir John Brute of
Dick. I shall, Sir-'em all-this right legI must be cruel, only to be kind;            Sim. Lord love you, master, that's not your
Thus' bad begins,,but worse remains behind. right leg.
Cocker's Arithmetic, Sir?                      Dick. Pho! you fool, don't you know I'm drunk?
Wtin. Ay, Cocker's Arithmetic-study figures, this right leg here is the best lock-smith in Engand they'll carry you through the world.     land; so, so.    [Forces the door, and goes in.
Dick. Yes, Sir. [Stifling a laugh.]  Cocker's   Sim. He's at his: plays again; odds my heart,
Arithmetic!                           [Exit. he's a rare hand, he'll go through with it I'll war-:Wiin. Let him mind me, friend Gargle, and I'll -rant him.: Old: Codger must not smoke that I
make a man of him.                           have any concern-I must be main cautious. Lord
Gar; Ay,- Siri you know the world.-The young  bless his heart, he's to teach me to act Scrub.
man will do very well —I wish he were out of his He begun-with me long ago, and I got as far as
time; he shall then have my daughter.        the Jesuit before a went out of town:-ScrubWin. Yes,-but I'll touch the cash-.-he shan't coming,- Sir-Lord, ma'am, I've a whole packet
finger it during my life.-I must keep a tight full of news; some say one thing, and some say
hand- over him-[ Goes to the door.]-Do ye hear, another; but, for my part ma'am, I believe he's a
friend?-Mind what I say, and go home to your Jesuit-that's main pleasant —I believe he's a Jebusiness immediately.-Friend Gargle, I'll make suit.
a main of him.
Repenter DICE
Re-enter DICK.
Dick. I have done the deed;-didst thou not
Dick. Who called on Achmet! Did not Bar- hear a noise?
barossa require me here?                      Sim. No, master; we're all snug.
Win. What's the matter now — Barossa!-    Dick. This coat will do' charmingly; I have
Wounds!-What's Barossa?-Does the fellow  bilked the old fellow nicely.- In a dark corner of
call me names?-What makes the blockhead his cabinet, I found this paper; what it is the
stand in such confusion 2                    light will show.-[Reads.]' I promise to pay,'
Dick. That Barbarossa should suspect my Ha!  -'I promise to pay to Mr. Moneytrap, or
truth''   order, on demand''Tis his hand —a note of
Win. The fellow's stark, staring mad-get out his-yet more-' the sum  of seven pounds,
of the room, you villain, get out of the room.  fourteen shillings, and seven pence, value received
[DICK stands in a sullen mood. by me-  London, this 15th June, 1775.'Gar. Come, come, young man, every thing is'Tis wanting what should follow; his name shall
easy;- don't spoil all again-go and change your follow, but'tis torn off, because the note is paid.
dress, and come home to your business. Nay,   Sim. 0, lud! dear Sir, you'll spoil all. I wish
nay, be ruled by me.       [ Thrusts him off. we were well out-of the house. Our best way, masWin. I'm very peremptory, friend Gargle; if ter, is to make off directly.
he vexes me once more, I'll have nothing to say   Dick. I will, I will; but first help me on with
to him. Well, butnowI thinkofit, I haveCock- this coat. -Simon, you shall be my dresser;
er's Arithmetic below stairs in the counting-house you'll be fine and happy behind the scenes.
-I'll step and get it for him, and so -he shall take    Sim.. O, lud! it will be main pleasant; 1 have
it home with him. Friend Gargle, your servant. been behind the screens in the country.
Gar. Mr. Wingate, a good: evening to you.   Dick. Have you, where'
You'll send him home to his business?::' Sim. Why, when I lived with the man that
Win. He shall follow you home directly. Five- showed wild beastices.
eighths of three-sixteenths of a pound!-multiply    Dick. Hark ye, Simon, when I am  playing
the numerator by the denominator! five times some deep tragedy, and cleave the general ear with
sixteen is ten times eight, ten times eight is eighty, horrid speech, you must take out your white
and-a-a-carry one.                   [Exit. pocket handkerchief and cry bitterly.
[Teaches him.
Re-enter DICK and SIMo                                            Tehes  him.
RSim. But I haven't got a white pocket handSim. Lord love ye, master-I'm so glad you're kerchief.
come back-come, we had as good e'en gang home   Dick. Then I'll lend you mine.
to my master Gargle's.                                            [Pulls out a ragged one.
Dick. No, no, Simon, stay a moment-this is   Sim. Thank ye, Sir.
but a scurvy coat I have on, and I know my father   Dick. And when I am playing comedy, you
has always some jemmy thing locked up in his must be ready to laugh your guts out, [Teaches
closet-I know his ways-he takes'em in pawn; him.] for I shall be very pleasant - Toll-de-roll.
for he'll never part with a shilling without security.                           [Dances.
Sim. Hush! he'll hear us-stay, I believe he's   Sim. Never doubt me, Sir.
coming up stairs.                              Dick. Very well; now run down and open the
Dick. [Goes to the door, and listens.] No, no, street door; I'll follow you in a crack.
no, he's going down, growling and grumbling-ay,   Sim. I'm gone to serve you, master.
say ye so? —' Scoundrel, rascal let him bite the   Dick. To serve thyself-for, look ye, Simon,
bridle.-Six times twelve is seventy two.'-All's when I am manager, claim thou of me the care o'
safe, man; never fear him. Do you stand here- the wardrobe, with all those moveables, whereof
[ shall despatch this business in a crack,   the property-man now stands possessed.




SCENE I.]                   T H E APPRENTICE.                                      73
Sim. O, lud! this is charming-hush! I am  -I seed the degger yesterneet, and I thought I
gone.                               [Going. should ha'e killed every one that came in my
Dick. Well, but hark ye, Simon, come hither-  way.
what money have you about you, Master Mat-  Irish. Stand out of the way, lads, and see me
thew.                                       give a touch of Othollo, my dear.  [Takes the
Sim. But a tester, Sir.                   cork, burns it, and blacks his face.]  The devil
Dick. A tester! that's something of the least, burn the cork, it would not do it fast enough.
Master Matthew, let's see it.                  1 Mein. Here, here, I'll lend you a helping hand.
Sim. You have had' fifteen sixpences now.             [Blacks him; knocking at the door.
Dick. Never mind that-I'll pay you all at   Pres. Open locks, whoever knocks.
my benefit.nter DI
Sim. I don't doubt that, master-but mum.
[Exit.   Dick; Hlow now, ye secret, black, and midnight
Dick. Thus far we run before the wind.-  hags.   What is't ye do?  How fare the honest
An apothecary!!-make an apothecary of me! partners of my heart.  What bloody scene has
-what, cramp my genius over a pestle and Roscius now to act?  Arrah, my dear cousin
mortar, or mew me up in a shop, with an alligator Mackshane, won't you put a remembrance on
stuffed, and a beggarly account of empty boxes! me.
-to  be culling simples, and constantly adding   Irish. Ow! but is it mocking you are   Look
to the bills of mortality!-No, no! it will be ye, my dear, if you'd be taking me off-don't you
much better to be pasted up in capitals- The part call it taking off? —by my shoul, I'd be makingof Romeo by a young gentleman who never ap- you take yourself off. What, if you're for being
peared on any stage before!-My ambition fires obstroporous, I would not matter you three skips
at the thought.-But hold, mayn't 1 run some of a flea.
chance of failing in my attempt — hissed, pelted,   Dick. Nay, pr'ythee, no offence, I hope we
laughed at, not admitted into the Green-room.-  shall be brother players.
That will never do-Down, busy devil, down,   Irish. Ow! then we'd be very good friends;
down.-Try it again. Loved by the women, en- for you know two of a trade can never agree, my
vied by the men, applauded by the pit, clapped by dear.
-he gallery, admired by the boxes.-" Dear colonel,   Dick. What do you intend to appear in 
i not he a charming creature."-" My lord, don't  Irish. Othollo, my dear; let me alone; you'll
3ou like him  of all things?"-" Makes love see how I'll bodder'em-; though by my shoul, mylite an angel!"-" What an eye he has!"'-" Fine self does not know but I'll be frightened when
lees!"-" I'll certainly go to his benefit."-Ce- every thing is in a hub-bub, and nothing to be
lesial sounds!   And then I'll get in with all heard, but "Throw  him  over:"  "Over with
thepainters, and have myself put up in every print- him:" " Off, off, off the stage:" " Music."  Ow!
sho?-in the character of Macbeth! " This is a but may be the dear craturs in the boxes will be
sorrr sight."  [Stands in an attitude.]  In the lucking at my legs, ow! to be sure, the devil burn
chartcter of Richard-" Give me another horse; the luck they'll- give'em.
bindup my wounds."-This will do rarely-        Dick. I shall certainly laugh in the fellow's
And'hen I have a chance of getting well married face.                            [Aside.
-~-0, glorious thought!   By heaven I will   Scots. Stay till you hear me gi'e a speecimen of
enjoy it, though but in fancy.-But what's elocution.
o'clock?-it must be almost nine. I'll away at once:   Dick. What, with that impediment, Sir?
this is club-night. —'Egad, I'll go to them  for   Scots. Impeediment! what impeediment?  I
awhile.-The spouters are all met-little they do not leesp, do I    I do not squeent; I am well
think I'n in town-they'll be surprised to see me. leemed, am I not 
-   OffI go, and then for my assignation with my   Irish. By my shoul, if you go to that, I am as
Master Gargle's daughter-poor Charlotte! well timbered myself as any of them, and shall
she's locked up, but I shall find means to make a figure in genteel and top comedy.
settle matlers for her escape; she's a pretty thea-   Scots. 1'1l give you a speecimen of Mocbeeth.
trical genius.-If she flies to my arms like a hawk   Irish. Make haste then, and I'll begin Othollo.
to its perch it will be so rare an adventure, and so   Scots. Is this a dagger that I see before me, &c.
dramatic an incident.                         Irish. [Collaring him.] William, be sure you
Limbs! d, your office; and support me well;   prove my lose a whore, &c.
Bear me bit to her, then fail me if you can.   [Another MEMBER comes forward, with his:  [Exit.        face. powdered, and a pipe in his hand.
il~[em. I am thy father's spirit, HamletACT II                        Irish. You are my father's spirit?  My moth-er was a better man than ever you was.
SCENE I.-Discovers the Spouting -Club.' Dick. Pho! pr'ythee! you are not fat enough
The PRESIDENT and MEMBERS seated.       for a ghost.
MIem. I intend to make my first appearance in
Pres. Come, we'll fill a measure the table round. it for all that; only I'm puzzled about one thing, I
Now good digestion wait on appetite, and health want to know, when I come on first, whether 1
on both. Come give us a speech.              should make a bow to the audience 
Scots. Come now, I'll gi'e you a touch of Moc-   Watch. [Behind the scenes.] Past five o'clock,
beeth.                                       cloudy morning.
1 Mem. That will be rare. Come, let's have it.   Dick. Hey! past five o'clock;'sdeath, I snail
Scots. What dost lier at, mon2 I have had miss my appointment with Charlotte; I have
muckle applause at Edinburgh, when I enacted in staid too long, and shall lose my proselyte. Come,,he Reegiceede; and now I intend to do Mocbeeth let us adjourn. We'll scower the watch; confu
VOL. I.... K        7




74                          THE APPRENTICE.                                     AcMr U.
sion to morality; I wisn the constable were mar-   Char. Dear heart, don't let us stand fooling
ried.-  Huzza! huzza!  here, as I live and breathe we shall both be taken;
All. Huzza, Huzza!               [Exeunt. do, for heaven's sake, let us make our escape..
Dick. Yes, my dear Charlotte, we will go toSCENE II.-A Street.               gether;
Enter DICK, with a lantern and ladder.    Together to the theatre we'll go
There to their ravish'd eyes our skill we'll show.
Dick. All's quiet here; the coast's clear-now  And point new beauties-to the pit below.
for my adventure with Charlotte; this ladder will                  [Exit with CHARLOTTE,
do rarely for the business, though it would be bet-   Sim. And I to sweep my master's shop will go.
ter if it were a ladder of ropes —but hold; have I  [Exit into the house, and shuts the door.
not seen something like this on the stage? yes I
have, in some of the entertainments. Ay, I remem-        Enter a WATCHMAN.
ber an apothecary, and here about he dwells-this 
is my   aster Gargle's  being dark, the beggar's    Watch. Past six o'clock, and a cloudy morning
is my Master Garg's; being dark, the beggars  Hey-day! what's here? A ladder at Master
shop is shut; what, ho! apothecary! but soft,
shop is shut; whatho! apothecary!  ut sOft Gargle's window! I must alarm the family-Ho!
what light breaks through yonder window?  It is     Gargle!          [Knocks at the door.
the east, and Juliet is the sun; arise, fair sun, &c.   Gar. Above.] What'sthematter? Howcomes: Gar. [Above.] What's the matter. How comes
this window to be open? Ha! a ladder! Who's
CHARLOTTE appears at a window.
Char. Who's there; my Romeo?                Watch. I hope you an't robbed, Master Gargle?
Dick. The same, my love, if it not thee' displease. As I was going my rounds, I found your window
Char. Hush! not so loud; you'll waken my open.
father.                                        Gar. I fear, that is some of that young dog's
tricks. Take away the ladder; I mtst inquire
Dick. Alas! there is more peril in thine eye- tricks.  Take away the laer Ist inquire
Char. Nay, but pr'ythee now: I tell you, you'll into all this.                  [Exit.
spoil all. What made you stay so long?
Dick. Chide not, my fair; but let the god of        Re-enter SIMoNlike  crub.
love laugh in thy eyes, and revel in thy heart.
Sim.  Thieves! murder! thieves! popery! —
Char. As I am a living soul, you'll ruin every    Watch. What's the matter wit. the fellow?
thing; be but quiet, and I'll come down to you.      Spare all I have, and take my life
2; [oSire. Spare all I have, and take my life!
[Goi. G.   Watch. Any mischief in the house?
Dick. gr o, no, not so fast; Charlotte, let us act   Sim. They broke in with fire and swor4;
t_.he garden scene                          first        -                             X
arAfiddlestickfor the garden scene.  firstthey'll be here this minute.
Char. A fiddlestick for the garden scene.
Dickl. Nay, thenI'll t Ranger; up g Watch. What, are there thieves in the house? 
Dick. Nay, then, I'll act Ranger; up I go,    i. WithsordadpitlSi
Sins. With sword and pistol, Sir.
~yo'neck or nothingto frgta               Watch. How many are there of them?
Char. Dear heart, you're enoug t6 frighten a-and-forty.
body out of one's wits. Don't come up; I tell
you there's no occasion for the ladder. I have    Watch. Nay, then'is time for me to go.
settled every thing with Simon, and he's to let                                  [xit.
me through the shop, when he opens it.                     Enter GARGLE.
Dick. WVell, but I tell you I would not give a
farthing for it without the ladder, and so up I go;   Gar. Dear heart! dear heart! she's gonq she's
if it was as high as the garret, up I go.   gone!-my daughter, my daughter!- )VWhat's
the fellow in such a fright for?
Enter SJMON, at the door.            Sim. Down on your knees, down an your
Simn. Sir, Sir; Madam, Madam —-            marrow-bones, down on your marrow-boles.
Dick. Pr'ythee be quiet, Simon, I am ascending    Gar. Get up, you fool, get up. Dear heart, I'm
all in a fermentation.
the high top-gallant of my joy.
Si/m. An't please you, master, my young mis-            Enter  INATE
tress may come through the shop; I am going to
sweep it out, and she may escape that way fast   W'in. So, friend Gargle,-you're ap early, 1
enow.                                       see-nothing like rising early-nothing to be got
Char. That will do purely; and so do you stay by lying in bed, like a lubberly felbw-what's
where you are, and prepare to receive me.   the matter with you? ha! ha! you bok like a[Exit from above. ha! ha!Sim. Master, leave that there, to save me from  Gar. Oh-no  wonder-my daughter, my
being respected.                            daughter!
Dick. With all my heart, Simon.              Win. Your daughter! what signifies a foolish
Enter CHARLOTTE.               girl?
Gar. Oh dear heart! dear heart! —out of the
Char. O, lud! I'm frightened out of my wits; window.
feel with what a pit-a-pat action my heart beats.    Win. Fallen out of the window!-well, she was
Dick.'Tis an alarm to love; quick, let me a woman, and'tis no matter-if she's dead, she's
snatch thee to thy Romeo's arms, &c.        provided for.-Here, I found the book-could not
Watch. [Behind the scenes.] Past six o'clock, meet with it last night.-Here, friend Gargle,
and a cloudy morning.                       take the book, and give it that scoundrel of a fel.
Dick. Is that the raven's voice I hear?  low.
Sim. No, master, it's the watchman's.       Gar. Lord, Sir, he's returned to his tricks.




SeENE II.J                   THE APPRE NT I C E.                                      75
Win. Returned to his tricks!-what,-broke    G'ar. Do, my dear Sir, let us step to him.
loose again  Win. No, not I, let him stay there-this it
Gar. Ay, and carried off my daughter with him. is to have a genius-ha! ha! —a genius!:ha 
WFin. Carried off your daughter-how did the:ha!-a genius is a fine thing indeed!-ha! ha!
rascal contrive that?                                                                [ExiL,
Gar. Oh, dear Sir,-the watch alarmed us    Gar. Poor man! he has certainly a fever on
awhile ago, and I found a ladder at the window-  his spirits —do you step in with me, honest man,
so I suppose my young Madam made her escape till I slip on my coat, and then I'll go after this
that way.                                     unfortunate boy.
fWin. 1'11 never see the fellow's face.       Por. Yes, Sir-'tis in Gray's Inn-lane.
Sim. Secrets! secrets!                                                          [Exeunt.
Win. What, are you in the secret friend?
Sim. To be sure, there be secrets in all fami-     SCENE  lI-Spunging  House.
lies-but, for my part, I'll not speak a word pro
orcn   lter sapae   DICK and BAILIFF at a table, and CHARLOTTE
or con, till there's a peace.
W in. You won't speak, Sirrah-I'll make        sitting in a disconsolate manner by him.
you speak-do you know nothing of this, num-    Bail. Here's my service to you, young gentlescull?                                        man-don't be uneasy-the debt is not muchSim. Who I, Sir?-he came home last night why do you look so sad?
from your house, and went out again directly.   Dick. Because captivity has robbed me of a just
Win. You saw him then-                      and dear diversion.
Sim. Yes, Sir,-saw him  to be sure, Sir-he    Bail. Never look sulky at me-1 never use
made me open the shop-door for him-he stopped' any body ill-come, it has been many a good
on the threshold, and pointed at one of the clouds, man's lot-here's my service to you-but we've
and asked me if it was not like an ouzel?    no liquor-come, we'll have t'other bowl.
Win. Like an ouzel-wounds! what's an ouzel?   Dick. I've now not fifty ducats in the worldGar. And the young dog came back in the yet still I am in love, and pleased with ruin.
dead of night, to steal away my daughter.       Bail. What do you say?-you've fifty shillings,
Enter a PORTER.                 1hope.
Dick. Now, thank heaven! I'm not worth a
Win. Who are you, pray? —what do you want? groat.
Por. Is one Mr. Gargle here?                  Bail. Then there's no credit here, I can tell
Gar. Yes-who wants him?                   you that-you must get bail, or go to NewgatePor. Here's a letter for you.              who do you think is to pay house-rent for you?Gar. Let me see it. Oh, dear heart!-[Reads.] Such poverty-struck devils as you shan't stay in
" To Mr. Gargle, at the Pestle and Mortar"- my house-you shall go to quod, I can tell you
slidikins, this is a letter from that unfortunate that. [Knocking at the door.]  Coming, coming,
young fellow.                                 I am coming-I shall lodge you in iNewgate, I
ZWin. Let me see it, Gargle.       [Reads, promise you, before night,-not worth a groat!"To Mr. Gargle, f c.                      you're a fine fellow to stay in a man's house" Most potent, grave, and reverend doctor, my very you shall go to quod.           [Exit.
noble and approved good master, that I have ta'en    Dick. Come, clear up, Charlotte, never mind
away your daughter it is most true, true I will marry this-come, now —let us act the prison-scene in
her; —'tis trite,'tis pity, and pity'tis,'tis true." —  the Mournin  Bride.
What in the name of common sense is all this 1 "I    Char. How can you think of acting speeches,
have done your shop some service, and you know it; when we're in such distress?
no more of that-yet I could wish, tha at this time Iy dear angel
had not been this thing,"-what can the fellow mean?ut my  ear angel-"for time may have yet one fated hour to come,       Enter TWINGATE and GARGLE.
which, winged with liberty, may overtake occasion
past." —Overtake occasion past'!-no, no, time and  Come, now we'll practise an attitude-how many
tide wait for no man —" I expect redress from thy of'em have you?
noble sorrows-thine and my poor country's ever,  Char. Let me see,-one-two-three-and:"lR. WINGATE."  then in the fourth act, and then-O  gemini, I
Mad as a March hare! I have done with him-  have ten at least.
let him stay till the shoe pinches, a crack-brained    Dick. That will do swimmingly-I've a round
numscull.                                     dozen myself-come, now begin-you fancy me
Por. An't please ye, Sir, I fancies the gentle- dead, and I think the same of you-now mind.
man is a little beside himself-he took hold un me                  [ They stand in attitudes.
here by the collar, and called me villain, and bid    Win. Only mind the villain.
me prove his wife a whore-Lord help him, I   Dick. 0 thou soft fleeting form of Lindamira!
never see'd the gentleman's spouse in my born    Char. Illusive shade of my beloved lord!
days before.                                    Dick. She lives, she speaks, and we shall still
Gar. Is she with him now?                  be happy! 
Por. I believe so-there is a likely young wo-    Win. You lie, you villain, you shan't be happy,
man with him, all in tears.                                              [Knocks him down.
Gar. My daughter, to be sure.                 Dick. [On the ground.] Perdition catch your
Por. I fancy, master, the gentleman's under arm, the chance is thine.
troubles-I brought it from a spunging-house.    Gar. So, my young madam-I have found you
Win. From a spunging-house!                 again.
Por. Yes, Sir, in Gray's Inn-lane.            Dick. Capulet, forbear; Paris, let loose your
Win. Let him lie t!lere, let him lie there-I am  hold-she is my wife-our hearts are twined toglad of it-                                   gether.




76                          THE APPRENTICE.                                    [ACT I1.
Win. Sirrah! villain! I'll break every bone in  A paltry, scribbling fool-to leave me outyour body.                     [Strikes him. He'll say, perhaps-he thought I could not spout
Dick. Parents have flinty hearts, no tears can Malice and envy to the last degree!
move'em: children must be wretched.         And why.-I wrote a farce as well as he;
Win. Get off the ground, you villain; get off And fairly ventur'd it, without the aid
the ground.                                  Of prologue dress'd in black, and face in masque-Dick.'Tis; a pity there are no scene-drawers-to  rade.
lift me.                                     0 pit!-have pity-see how I'm dismay'd!
Win.'Tis mighty well, young man-zookers' Poor soul!-this canting stuff will never do,
I made my own fortune; and I'll take a boy out Unless, like Bayes, he brings his hangman too.
of the Blue-coat Hospital, and give him all I have. But granting that from these same obsequies,
Look ye here, friend Gargle.-You know I'm not Some pickings to our bard in black arise;.
a hard-hearted man-the scoundrel, you know, Should' your applause to joy convert his fear,
nas robbed me; so d'ye see, I won't hang him,- As Pallas turns to feast-Lordella's bier 
i'll only transport the fellow-and so, Mr. Catch- Yet'twould have been a'better scheme by half,
pole, you' may take him to Newgate.          T' have thrown his weeds aside,- and learn'd with
Gar. Well, but, dear Sir, you know I always        me to laugh.
intended to marry my daughter into your family; I could have shown him, had he been inclin'd,
and if you let the youpg man be ruined, my mo- A spouting junto of the female kind.
ney must all go into another channel.        There dwells a milliner in yonder row,
Win. How's that'-into another channel! Well dress'd, full voiced, and nobly built for show,
must not lose the handling o his money-Why,'Who, when in rage, she scolds at Sue and Sarah;
I told vyou, friend Gargle, I'm not a hard hearted  Damn'd, damn'd, dissembler: thinks she's Madam
man. Ha! ha!-why, if the blockhead would           Zara.'but get as many crabbed physical words from  She has a daughter too, that deals in lace,
Hippocrites and Allen, as he has from his non- And sings-O ponder well-and Chevy Chace,
sensical trumpery,-ha! ha!-I'don't know, be- And fain would fill the fair Ophelia's place.
tween you and I, but he might pass for a very And in her cock'd-up hat, and gown of camlet
good physician.                              Presumes on something-touching  the Lord
Dick. And must I leave thee, Juliet.              Hamlet.
Char. Nay, but, pr'ythee now have done with A cousin too she has, with squinting eyes,
your speeches-you see we are brought to the last'With waddling gait, and voice like London
distress, and so you had better make it up.          Cries;
[Apart to DICK. Who, for the stage too short by half a story,
Dick. Why, for your sake, my dear, I don't Acts Lady Townly-thus-in all her glory.
care if 1 do. [Apart.]-Sir, you shall find for the And while she's traversing the scanty room,
future, that we'll both endeavour to give you all Cries-" Lord, my lord, what can T do at home.'
the satisfaction in our power.              In short, there's girls enough for all the fell6ws,
Win. Very well, that's right.            The ranting, whining, starting, and the jealous,
Dick. And since we don't go on the stage,'tis The Hotspurs, Romeos, Hamlets, and Othellos.
some comfort that the world's a stage, and all the Oh! little do those silly people know
men and women merely players.               What dreadful trials actors undergo.
Some play the upper, some the under, parts,  Myself, who most in harmony delight,
And most assume what's foreign to their hearts; Am scolding here from morning until night.
Thus life is but a tragic-comic jest,        Then take advice from me, ye giddy things,
And all is farce and mummery at best. [Exeunt. Ye royal milliners, ye apron d kings;
Young men, beware, and shun your slippery
ways,
-  EPILOGUE.                   I Study arithmetic, and burn your plays.
ORIGINALLY SPOKEN  BY MRS. OLIVE.    And you, ye girls, let not our tinsel train
EEnchant your eyes, and turn your madd'ning
Enters, reading a Play-Bill.                brain;
A VERY pretty bill,-as I'm alive!          Be timely wise, for oh! be sure of this,
The part of-N-obody-by Mrs. Clive!          A shop with virtue is the height of bliss,




JANE SHORE:
A TRAGEDY,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY NICHOLAS ROWE.
REMARKS.
IT has been observed, that Rowe seldom moves either pity or terror, but often elevates the sentiments; he seldom
pierces the breast, but always delights the ear, and often improves the understanding. This excellent tragedy is
always acted with great applause, and will, in one instance at least, prove the author's power to excite a powerful effect: consisting chiefly of domestic scenes and private distress,.the play before us is an affecting appeal to.pity,
Sepecially in the parting of Alicia and Hastings, the interview between Jane Shore and Alicia, and in.the catastrophe. In the plot, Rowe has nearly followed the history of this misguided and unhappy fair one, and has produced
an impressive moral lesson.    -.:
DRAMATIS PERSONAL.
As originally acted in 1713.         COVENT GARDEN, 1814.
LORD HASTINGS,................Mr..Booth.........Mr. C. Kemble.
DUKE OF GLOSTER,.......... Mr. ibber....Mr. Egerton.
BELMOUR,.............Mr. Mills.                   Mr. Claremot.
SIR RICHARD RATCLIFFE,..;.....Mr. Bowman....... Mr. Treby.
SIR WILLIAM CATESBY,.............. Mr. Husband......Mr. Creswell.
SHORE,............................ Mr. Wfrilks.... Mr. Barrymore.
JANE SHORE............           Mr. Oldfield..........Miss O'Neil.
ALICIA,........ Mrs.- Porter...            Mrs. Fawcett.
Lords'of the Council, &c.
ACT I.                       The last remaining male of princely York,
(For Edward's boys, the state esteems not of.'em,)
SCENE. — The Tower.                 And therefore on your sov'reignty and rule
Enter the DUKE OF G~LOSTEHR, SIR RICHARD RAT-  The commonweal does her dependence make,
CLFFE t hand CATESBY.               And leans upon your highness' able hand.
Cates. And yet to-morrow doesthe council meet,
Glos. Thus far success attendsuponourcouncils,  To fix a day for Edward's coronation.
And each event has answer'd to my wish;         Who can expound this riddle. 
The queen and all her upstart race are quell'd;   Glos. That can I.
Dorset is banish'd, and her brother Rivers,     Those lords are each:one my approv'd good friendi,
Ere this, lies shorter by the head at Pomfret.  Of special trust and nearness to my bosom;
The nobles have, withjoint concurrence,.nam'd me  And, howsoever busy they may seem,
Protector of the realm: my brother's children,  And diligent to bustle in the state, 
Young Edward and the little York, are lodg'd    Their zeal goes on no further than we lead,
Here, safe within the Tower; How say you, Sirs,  And at our bidding stays...
Does not this business wear a lucky face?        Cates. Yet there is one,
The sceptre and the golden wreath of royalty.   And he amongst the foremost in his power, -
Seem hung within my reach.                      Of whom I wish your highness were assur'd.
Sir R. Then take'em to you,                  For me, perhaps it is my nature's fault,
And wear them long and worthily; you are        I own I doubt of his inclining much.
77




78                             JANE- SHORE.                                   [ACT.
Glos. I guess the man at whom your words   Lord H. Thus it is, gracious Sir, that certain
would point;                                 officers,
Hiastings-                                  Using the warrant of your mighty name,
Cates. The same.                          With insolence unjust, and lawless power,
Glos. He bears me great good will.        Have seiz'd upon the lands which late she held
Cates.'Tis true, to you, as to the lord protector, By grant, from her great master Edward's bounty
And Gloster's duke, he bows with lowly service;  Glos. Somewhat of this, but slightly have I
But were he bid to cry, God save king Richard,       heard;
Then tell me in what terms he would reply.  And though some counsellors of forward zeal,
Believe me, I have prov'd the man, and found him: Some of most ceremonious sanctity
I know he bears a most religious reverence  And bearded wisdom, often have provok'd
To his dead master Edward's royal memory,   The hand of justice to fall heavy on her;
And whither that may lead him, is most plain.   Yet still, in kind compassion of her weakness,
Yet more-One of that stubborn sort he is,   And tender memory of Edward's love,
Who, if they once grow fond of an opinion,  I have withheld the merciless stern law
They call it honour, honesty, and faith,    From doing outrage on her helpless beauty.
And sooner part with life than let it go.     Lord H. Good heaven, who renders mercy back
Glos. A.nfiyet this tough, impracticable heart,   for mercy,
Is govern'd by a dainty-finger'd girl;      With open-handed bounty shall repay you:
Such flaws are found in the most worthy natures; This gentle deed shall fairly be set foremost,
-A laughing, toying, wheedling, whimpering she,  To screen the wild escapes of lawless passion,
Shall make him amble on a gossip's message,  And the long train of frailties flesh is heir to.
And take the distaff with a hand as patient   Glos. Thus far the voice of pity pleaded only:
As e'er did Hercules.                       Our further and more fullextent of grace
Sir R. The fair Alicia,                   Is given to your request. Let her attend,
Of noble birth and exquisite of feature,    And to ourself deliver up her griefs.
Has held him long a vassal to her beauty.   She shall be heard with patience, and each wrong
Cates. I fear, he fails in his allegiance there;   At full redress'd. But I have other news,
Or my intelligence is false, or else        Which much import us both; for still my fortunes
The dame has been too lavish of her feast,  Go hand in hand with yours: our common foes,
And fed him till he loathes.                The queen's relations, our new-fangled gentry,
Glos. No more, he comes.                  Have fall'n their haughty crests-that for your
Enter LORD HASTINGS..                                               [Exeunt.
Lord H. Health, and the happiness of many  SCENE II.-An apartment in JANE SHORE'S
days,                                                 House.
Attend upon your grace.
Attend upon your grace.                            Enter BELMOUR and DUMONT.
Glos. My good lord chamberlain,
We're much beholden to your gentle friendship.  Bel. How she has liv'd you have heard my tale
Lord H. My lord,I come an humble suitor to you.    already;
Glos. In right good time. Speak out your plea- The rest your own attendance in her family,
sure freely.                        Where I have found the means this day to place
Lord H. I am to move your highness in behalf       you,
Of Shore's unhappy wife.                    And nearer observation, best will tell you.
Glos. Say you, of Shore?                 See with what sad and sober cheer she comes.
Lord H. Once a bright star, that held her
place on high:                                   Enter JANE SHORE.
place on high:
The first and fairest of our English dames,  Sure, or I read her visage much amiss,
While royal Edward held the sov'reign rule.  Or grief besets her hard. Save you, fair lady,
Now, sunk in grief and pining with despair,  The blessings of the cheerful morn be on you,
Her waning form no longer shall incite      And greet your beauty with its opening sweets.
Envy in woman, or desire in man.              Jane S. My gentle neighbour, your good wishes
She never sees the sun, but through her tears,      still
And wakes to sigh the live-long night away.  Pursue my hapless fortunes! ah, good Belmour!
Glos. Marry! the times are badly chang'd with How few, like thee, inquire the wretched out,
her,                                And court the offices of soft humanity.
From Edward'sdays to these. Then all was jollity, Like thee, reserve their raiment for the naked,
Feasting and mirth,lightwantonness and laughter, Reach out their bread to feed the crying orphan,
Piping and playing, minstrelsy and masking,    Ori mix their pitying tears with those that weep.'Till hife fled from us like an idle dream,  Thy praise deserves a better tongue than mine,
A show of mummery without a meaning.        To speak and bliss thy name. Is thisthe gentleman,
My brother, rest and pardon to his soul,    Whose friendlservice you commended to me
Is gone to his account; for this his minion,  Bel. Madam, it is.
The revel-rout is done-But you were speaking,    Jane S. A venerable aspect!     [Aside
Concerning her-I have been told, that you   Age sits with decent grace upon his visage,
Are frequent in your visitation to her.     And worthily becomes his silver locks;
Lord H. No further, my good lord, than friendly He wears the marks of many years well spent,
pity                                Of virtue, truth well tried, and wise experience;
And tender-hearted charity allow.           A friend like this would suit my sorrows well.
Glos. Go to: I did not mean to chide you for it. Fortune, I fear me, Sir, has meant you ill,
For, sooth to say, I hold it noble in you                                  [To DUMONT'
To cherish the distressed.-On with your tale.   Who pays your merit with that scanty pittance,




CENE II.]                        JANE' SIHIORE.                                    79
Which my poor hand and humble roof can give;    Jane S.'Tis true, the royal Edward was a
BI3t to supply those golden vantages,                wonder,
WThich elsewhere you might find, expect to meet  The goodly pride of all our English youth;
A just regard and value for your worth,     He was the very joy of all that saw him,
The welcome of a friend, and the free partnership  Form'd to delight, to love, and to persuade.
Of all that little good the world allows me.  But what had I to do with kings and courts?
Dum. You over-rate me much; and all my an- My humble lot had cast me far beneath him;
swer                                And that he was the first of all mankind,
Must be my future truth; let that speak for me,:The bravest, and most lovely, was my curse.
And make up my deserving.                     Alic. Sure something more than fortune join'd
Jane S. Are you of England?                       your loves:
Dum. No, gracious lady, Flanders claims my Nor could his greatness, and his gracious form,
birth;                              Be elsewhere match'd so well, as to the sweetness
At Antwerp has my constant.biding been,     And beauty of my friend.
TWhere sometimes I have known more plenteous   Jane S. Name him no more:
days                                He was the bane and ruin of my peace.
Than these which now my failing age affords.    This anguish, and these tears, these are the legacies
Jane S. Alas! at Antwerp! 0, forgive my tears! His fatal love has left me. Thou wilt see me,
[Weeping. Believe me, my Alicia, thou wilt see me,
They fall for my offences-and must fall     Ere yet a few short days pass o'er my head,
Long, long, ere they shall wash my stains away.  Abandon'd to the very utmost wretchedness.
You knew perhaps-O, grief! 0, shame! —my  The hand of power has seiz'd almost the whole
husband.                            Of what was left for needy life's support;
Dum. I knew him well; but stay this flood of Shortly thou wilt behold me poor, and kneeling
anguish.                            Before thy charitable door for bread.
The senseless grave feels not your pious sorrows:   Alic. Joy of my life, my dearest Shore, forbear
Three years and more are past, since I was bid,  To wound my heart with thy forboding sorrows;
With many of our common friends, to wait him    Raise thy sad&soul to better hopes than these,
To his last peaceful mansion. I attended,    Lift up thy eyes, and let them shine once more,
Sprinkled his clay-cold corse with holy drops,    Bright as the morning sun above the mist.
According to our church's rev'rend rite,     Exert thy charms, seek out the stern protector,
And saw him laid, in hallow'd ground, to rest.   And sooth his savage temper with thy beauty;
Jane S Oh, that my soul had known nojoy but Spite of his deadly, unrelenting, nature,
him!                                He shall be mov'd to pity, and redress thee.
That I had liv'd within his guiltless arms,    Jane S. My form, alas! has long forgot to please:
And dying slept in innocence beside him!    The scene of beauty and delight is chang'd;
But now his honest dust abhors the fellowship,  No roses bloom upon my fading cheek,
And scorns to mix with mine.                 Nor laughing graces wanton in my eyes;
Enter a SERVANT.                But haggard grief, lean-looking, sallow care,
And pining discontent, a rueful train,
Serv. The lady Alicia                      Dwell on my brow, all hideous and forlorn.
Attends your leisure.                       One only shadow of a hope is left me;
Jane S. Say, I wish to see her.            The noble-minded Hastings, of his goodness,
[Exit SERVANT. Has kindly underta'en to be my advocate,
Please, gentle Sir, one moment to retire,    And move my humble suit to angry Gloster.
I'll wait you on the instant, and inform you   Alic. Does Hastings undertake to plead your
Of each unhappy circumstance, in which               cause?
Your friendly aid and counsel much may stead me. But wherefore should he not? Hastings has eyes:
[Exeunt BELMOUR and DUMONT. The gentle lord has a right tender heart,
Enter A.LICIA.                Melting and easy, yielding to impression,
And catching the soft flame from each new beauty;
Alic. Still, my fair friend, still shall I find you  But yours shall charm him long.
thus?                                Jane S. Away, you flatterer!
Still shall these sighs heave after one another,    Nor charge his gen'rous meaning with a weakness
These trickling drops chase one another still,  Which his great soul and virtue must disdain.
As if the posting messengers of grief        Too much of love thy hapless friend has prov'd.
Could overtake the hours fled far away,      Too many giddy, foolish, hours are gone,
And make old time come back?                And in fantastic measures danc'd away:
Jane S. No, my Alicia,                     May the remaining few know only friendshilp
Heaven and his saints be witness to my thoughts,  So thou, my dearest, truest, best, Alicia,
There is no hour of all my life o'er-past,   Vouchsafe to lodge me in thy gentle heart,
That I could wish should take its turn again.  A partner there, I will give up mankind,
Alic. And yet some of those days my friend has Forget the transports of increasing passion,
known,                              And all the pangs we feel for its decay.
Some of those years might pass for golden ones,  Alic. Live! live and reign for ever in my bosom;
At least if womankind can judge of happiness.                               [Embracing,
W5hat could we wish, we who delight in empire,  Safe and unrivall'd there, possess thy own;
WThose beauty is our sov'reign good, and gives us  And you, the brightest of the stars above,
Our reasons to rebel, and power to reign;    Ye saints, that once were women here below,
What could we more than to behold a monarch,  Be witness of the truth, the holy friendship,
Lovely, renown'd, a conqueror, and young,    Which here to this my other self I vow
Bound in our chains, and sighing at our feet?    If I not hold her nearer to my soul,




80                              JANE SHORE.                                    [LArT n.
Than every other joy the world can give,    VWhat. visitor is this, who, with bold freedom,
Let poverty, deformity, and shame,           Breaks in upon the peaceful night and rest,
Distraction and despair, seize me on earth,  With such a rude approach 2
Let not my faithless ghost have peace hereafter,
Nor taste the bliss of your celestial fellowship!         Enter a SERVANT.
Jane S. Yes, thou art true, and only thou art   Serv. One from the court,
true;                               Lord Hastings (as I think) demands my lady.
Therefore, these jewels, once the lavish bounty  Alic. Hastings! Be still, my heart, and try to
Of royal Edward's love, I trust to thee;             meet him
[Giving a Casket. Withhisown arts! with falsehood.-But he comes.
Receive this, all that I can call my own,
And let it rest unknown, and safe with thee:    Enter LORD HASTINGS, speaking to a Ser^-ant
That, if the state's injustice should oppress me,            as entering.
Strip me of all, and turn me out a wanderer,   Lord H. Dismiss my train, and wait alone
My wretchedness may find relief from thee,           without.
And shelter from the storm.                  Alicia here! Unfortunate encounter!
Alic. My all is thine;                    But be it as it may.
One common hazard shall attend us both,        Alic. When humbly, thus,
And both be fortunate, or both be wretched.  The great descend to visit the afflicted,
But let thy fearful, doubting, heart be still;  When thus, unmindful of their rest, they come
The saints and angels have thee in their charge,  To sooth the sorrows of the midnight mourner,
And all things shall be well. Think not, the good,
The gentle, deeds of mercy thou hast done,   Dispels the sullen shades with her sweet influence.
Shall die forgotten all; the poor, the pris'ner,  And cheers the melancholy house of care.
The fatherless, the friendless, and the widow,  Lord H.'Tis true, I would not over-rate a
Who daily own the bounty of thy hand,                courtesy,
Shall cry to heaven, and pull a blessing on thee.  Nor let the coldness of delay hang on it,
Even man, the merciless insulter, man,       To nip and blast its favour, like a frost;
Man, who rejoices in our sex's weakness,     But rather chose, at this late hour, to come,
Shall pity thee, and with unwonted goodness  That your fair friend may know I have prevail'd;
Forget thy failings, and record thy praise.  The lord protector has receiv'd her suit,
Jane S. Why should I think that man will do And means to show her grace.
for me,                               Alic. My friend! my lord.
What yet he never did for wretches like me     Lord H.  Yes, lady, yours; none has a right
Mark by what partial justice wmore ample
Such is the fate unhappy women find,         To tax my power than you.
And such the curse entail'd upon our kind,     Alic. I want the words
That man, the lawless libertine, may rove,   To pay you back a compliment so courtly;
Free and unquestion'd through the wilds of love; But my heart guesses at the friendly meaning,
While woman,-sense and nature's easy fool,    And wo' not die your debtor.
If poor weak woman swerve from virtue's rule;  Lord H.'Tis well, Madam:
If, strongly charm'd, she leave the thorny way,   But I would see your friend.
And in the softer paths of pleasure stray;     Alic. Oh, thou false lord!
Ruin ensues, reproach and endless shame,     I would be mistress of my heaving heart,
And one false step entirely damns her fame;
Andl one false step entirely damns her fame;  Stifle this rising rage, and learn from thee
In vain, with tears the loss she may deplore,  To dress my face in easy, dull, indiff'rence;
In vain, look back on what she was before;   But'two' not be; my wrongs will tear their way,
She sets, like stars that fall, to rise no more.  And rush at once upon thee.
[Exeunt.   Lord H. Are you wise'
Have you the use of reason? Do you wake?
ACT II.              What means this raving, this transporting passion?
Alic. 0 thou cool traitor! thou insulting tyrant!
SCENE. —An Apartment in JANE SHORE'S  Dost thou behold my poor, distracted heart,
House.                    Thus rent with agonizing love and rage,
And ask me what it means'? Art thou not false't
Enater ALICIA, speaking to: JANE ~SHORE as   Am I not scorn'd, forsaken, and abandon'd;
entering.                  Left, like a common wretch, to shame and infamy,
Alic. No further, gentle friend; good angels' Given up to be the sport of villain's tongues,
guard you,                          Of laughing parasites, and lewd buffoons?
And spread their gracious wings about your slum- And all because my soul has doated on thee
bers.                               With love, with truth, and tenderness unutterable!
The drowsy night grows on the world, and now   Lord H. Are these the proofs of tenderness and
The busy craftsman, and the o'er-labour'd hind       love'
Forget the travail of the day in sleep:      These endless quarrels, discontents,and jealousies,
Care only wakes, and moping pensiveness;     These never-ceasing wailings and complainings
With meagre discontented looks they sit,     These furious starts, these whirlwinds of the soui,
And watch the wasting of the midnight taper.   Which every other momentrise to madness'l
Such vigils must I keep, so wakes my soul,     Alic. What proof, alas! have I not given of love?
Restless and self-tormented! O, false Hastings!  What have I not abandon'd to thy arms!
Thou hast destroyed my peace.                Have I not set at nought my noble birth,
[Knocking without. A spotless fame, and an unblemish'd race,
What noise is that.             The peace of innocence, and pride of virtue?




sCJNE I.j                        JANE  SHORE.                                      81
My prodigality has given thee all;           See thy last breath with indignation go,
And now, I've nothing left me to bestow,     And tread thee sinking to the shades below.
You hate the wretched bankrupt you have made.                                     [Exit.
Lord H. Why am I thus pursued from place   Lord H. How fierce a fiend is passion! With
to place,                                    what wildness,
Kept in the view, and cross'd at every turn?  What tyranny untam'd, it reigns in woman!
In vain I fly, and, like a hunted deer,      Unhappy sex! whose easy yielding temper
Scud o'er the lawns, and hasten to the covert;    Gives way to every appetite alike:
Ere I can reach my safety, you o'ertake me   And love in their weak bosoms is a rage
With the swift malice of some keen reproach,    As terrible as hate, and as destructive.
And drive the winged shaft deep in my heart.    But soft ye now-for here comes one, disclaims
Alic. Hither you fly, and here you seek repose; Strife and her wrangling train; of equal elements,
Spite of the poor deceit, your arts are known,    Without one jarring atom, was she fobrm'd,
Your pious, charitable, midnight visits.    And gentleness and joy make up her being.
Lord H. If you are wise, and prize your peace
of mind,
Yet take the friendly counsel of my love;    Forgive me, fair one, if officious friendship
Believe me true, nor listen to your jealousy.  Intrudes on your repose, and comes thus late
Let not that devil, which undoes your sex,   To greet you with the tidings of success.
That cursed curiosity, seduce you            The princely Gloster has vouchsaf'd your hearing,
To hunt for needless secrets, which, neglected,   To-morrow he expects you at the court;
Shall never hurt your quiet; but, once known,   There plead your cause, with never-failing beauty,
Shall sit upon your heart, pinch it with pain,  Speak all your griefs, and find a full redress.
And banish the sweet sleep for ever from you.  Jane S. Thus humbly let your lowly servant
Go to-be yet advis'd.-                               bend;                    [Kneeling.
Alic. Dost thou in scorn                   Thus let me bow my grateful knee to earth,
Preach patience to my rage, and bid me tamely   And bless your noble nature for this goodness.
Sit, like a poor contented idiot, down,        Lord H. Rise, gentle dame, you wrong my
Nor dare to think thou'st wrong'd me? Ruin seize    meaning much,
thee,                               Think me not guilty of a thought so vain,
And swift perdition overtake thy treachery!  To sell my courtesy for thanks like these.
Have I the least remaining cause to doubt?    Jane S.'Tis true, your bounty is beyond my
Hast thou endeavour'd once to hide thy falsehood?   speaking:
To hide it might have spoke some little tenderness, But, though my mouth be dumb, my heart shall
And shown thee half unwilling to undo me:            thank you;
But thou disdain'st the weakness of humanity;   And when it melts before the throne of mercy,
Thy words, and all thy actions, have confessed it; Mourning and bleeding for my past offences,
Even now thy eyes avow it, now they speak,   My fervent soul shall breathe one prayer for you,
And insolently own the glorious villany.     That heaven will pay you back, when most you
Lord H. Well then, I own my heart has broke        need,
your chains.                         The grace and goodness you have shown to me.
Patient, I bore the painful bondage long,    *  Lord H. If there be aught of merit in my serAt length my gen'rous love disdains your tyranny;    vice,
The bitterness and stings of taunting jealousy,   Impute it there, where most'tis due, to love;
Vexatious days, and jarring, joyless nights,  Be kind, my gentle mistress, to my wishes,
Have driven him forth to seek some safer shelter, And satisfy my panting heart with beauty.
Where he may rest his weary wings in peace.    Jane S. Alas! my lordAlic. You triumph!-do! and with gigantic   Lord H. Why bend thy eyes to earth?
pride                               Wherefore these looks of heaviness and sorrow? 
Defy impending vengeance. Heaven shall wink; Why breathes that sigh, my love? And whereNo more his arm shall roll the dreadful thunder,     fore falls
Nor send his lightnings forth: no more his justice  This trickling shower of tears,. to stain thy sweetShall visit the presuming sons of men,               ness?
But perjury, like thine, shall dwell in safety.  Jane S. If pity dwells within your noble breast,
Lord H. Whate'er my fate decrees for me here- (As sure it does,j oh, speak not to me thus.
after,                                Lord H. Can I behold thee, and not speak of
Be present to me now, my better angel!               love'
Preserve me from the storm that threatens now,  Even now, thus sadly as thou stand'st before me,
And, if I have beyond atonement sinn'd,      Thus desolate, dejected, and forlorn,
Let any other kind of plague o'ertake me,    Thy softness steals upon my yielding senses,
So I escape the fury of that tongue.         Till my soul faints, and sickens with desire;
Alic. Thy prayer is heard-I go-but know, How canst thou give this motion to my heart,
proud lord,                         And bid my tongue be still?
Howe'er thou scorn'st the weakness of my sex,  Jane S. Cast round your eyes
This feeble hand may find the means to reach, Upon the high-born beauties of the court;
thee,                               Behold, like opening roses, where they bloom,
towe'er sublime in power and greatness plac'd,  Sweet to the sense, unsully'd all; and spotless;
With royal favour guarded round and grac'd;    There choose some worthy partner of your heart,
On eagle's wings my rage shall ulrge her flight,   To fill your arms and bless your virtuous bed,
And hurl thee headlong from thy topmost height; Nor turn your eyes this way.
Then, like thy fate, superior will 1 sit,      Lord H. What means this peevish, this fantasAnd view thee fallen, and grov'ling at my feet;     tic change?
VOL. 1....L




82                              JANE  SHORE.                                   [ACT II.
Where is thy wonted pleasantness of face,    Than ever king did, when he made a lord.
Thy wonted graces and thy dimpled smiles?     Lord H. Insolent villain! henceforth let this
Where hast thou lost thy wit and sportive mirth. teach thee,   [Draws and strikes him.
That cheerful heart, which us'd to dance for ever, The distance'twixt a peasant and a prince.
And cast a ray of gladness all around thee?   Dum. Nay then, my lord, [Drawing.] learn
Jane S. Yes, I will own I merit the reproach;      you by this, how well
And for those foolish days of wanton pride,  An arm resolv'd can guard its master's life
iMly soul is justly humbled to the dust:              [ They fight; DUMONT disarms LORI
All tongues, likeyours, are licens'd to upbraid me,      HASTINGS.
Still to repeat my guilt, and urge my infamy,  Lord H. Confusion! baffled by a base-born hind!
And treat me like that abject thing I have been.    Dum. Now, haughty Sir, where is our differLord H. No more of this dull stuff''Tis time      ence now?
enough                              Your life is in my hand, and did not honour,
To whine and mortify thyself with penance,   The gentleness of blood, and inborn virtue,
The present moment claims more gen'rous use;  (Howe'er unworthy I may seem to you,)
Thy beauty, night, and solitude, reproach me,    Plead in my bosom, I should take the forfeit.
For having talk'd thus long-come, let me press But wear your sword again; and know, a lord,
thee,           [Laying hold of her. Oppos'd against a man, is but a man.
Pant on thy bosom, sink into thy arms,         Lord H. Curse on my failing hand! your bet.
And lose myself in the luxurious flood.              ter fortune
Jane S. Forbear, my lord!-here let me rather Has given you'vantage o'er me; but perhaps
die,                     [Kneeling. Your triumph may be bought with dear repentAnd end my sorrows and my shame for ever.            ance.                        [Exit.
Lord H. Away with this perverseness-'tis too much.                                  Re-enter JANE SHORE.
Nay, if you strive-'tis monstrous affectation!
[Striving.   Jane S. Alas! what have you done    Know
Jane S. Retire! I beg you, leave me                ye the power,
Lord H. Thus to coy it!-                  The mightiness, that waits upon this lord?
With one who knows you too.-                   Dum. Fear not, my worthiest mistress;'tis a
Jane S. For mercy's sake-                          cause
Lorl H. Ungratefill woman! Is it thus you pay In which heaven's guards shall wait you. 0 pursue,
My services?-                              Pursue, the sacred counsels of your soul,
Jane S. Abandon me to ruin-                Which urge you on to virtue;
Rather than urge me-                        Assisting angels shall conduct your steps,
Lord H. This way to your chamber;          Bring you to bliss, and crown your (lays with peace.
[Pulling her.   Jane S. 0 that my head were laid, my sad
There if you struggle-                               eyes clos'd,
Jane S. Help, O gracious heaven!          And my cold corse wound in my shroud to rest!
Help! Save me! Help!                [Exit. My painful heart will never cease to beat,
Will never know a moment's peace, till then.
Enter DUMONT; he interposes.           Dum. Would you be happy, leave this fatal
place;
Dum. My lord! for honour's sake           Fly from the court's pernicious nehihbourhood;
Lord H. Hah! What art thou i-Be gone!   Where innocence is sham'd; and blushing modesty
Dum. My duty calls me                      Is made the scorner's jest; where hate, deceit,
To my attendance on my mistress here.        And deadly ruin, wear the masks of beauty,
Lord H. Avaunt! base groom-               And draw deluded fools with shows of pleasure.
At distance wait, and know thy office better.  Jane S. Where should I fly, thus helpless and
Dum. No, my lord-                                  forlorn,
The common ties of manhood call me now,      Of friends and all the means of life bereft?
And bid me thus stand up in the defence        Dum. Belmour, whose friendly care still wakes
Of an oppress'd, unhappy, helpless, woman.          to serve you,
Lord H. And dost thou know me, slave?    Has found you out a little peaceful refuge,
Dumn. Yes, thou proud lord!               Far from the court and the tumultuous city.
I know thee well; know thee with each advantage, Within an ancient forest's ample verge,
Which wealth, or power, or noble birth, can give There stands a lonely but a healthful dwelling,
thee.                               Built for convenience and the use of life:
I know thee too for one who stains those honours, Around it, fallows, meads, and pastures fair,
And blots a long illustrious line of ancestry,  A little garden, and a limpid brook,
By poorly daring thus to wrong a woman.     By nature's own contrivance seem'd dispos'd;
Lord H.'Tis wondrous well! I see, my saint- No neighbours, but a few poor simple clowns,
like dame,                          H onest and true, with a well-meaning priest:
You stand provided of your braves and ruffians,  No faction, or domestic fury's rage,
To man your cause, and bluster in your brothel. -Did e'er disturb the quiet of that place,
Dum. Take back the foul reproach, unman- When the contending nobles shook the land
ner'd railer!                       With York and Lancaster's disputed sway.
Nor urge my rage too far, lest thou should'st find  Your virtue there may find a safe retreat
I have as daring spirits in my blood         From the insulting powers of wicked greatness.
As thou or any of thy race e'er boasted;       Jane S. Can there be so much happiness in.
And though no gaudy titles grac'd my birth,          store 1
Yet heaven, that made me honest, made me more  A cell like that is all my hopes aspire to.




~cih'EPUE I.JI                   JANE  SHORE.                                         83
Haste then; and thither let us take our flight,  And move him for redress.
Ere the clouds gather, and the wintry sky              [She gives the paper to ALICIA, who
Descends in storms to intercept our passage.                 opens and seems to read it.
Dum. Will you then go?- You glad my very    Alic. Now for a wile,
soul.                                To sting my thoughtless rival to the heart;
Banish your fears, cast all your cares on me:  To blast her fatal beauties, and divide her
Plenty and ease, and peace of mind, shall wait you, For ever from my perjur'd Hastings' eyes:
And make your latter days of life most happy.    Their fashions are the same, it cannot fail.
O lady! but I must not, cannot, tell you,                [Aside: pulling out the other paper.
How anxious I have been for all your dangers,   Jane S. But see, the great protector comes this
And how my heart rejoices at your safety.              way.
So when the spring renews the flowery field,  Give me the paper, friend.
And warns the pregnant nightingale to build,    Alic. For love and vengeance!
She seeks the safest shelter of the wood,               [Aside: she gives her the other paper.
Where she may trust her little tuneful brood;
Where no rude swains her shady cell may know, Enter the DUKE OF GLOSTER, SIR RICHARD RATNo serpents climb, nor blasting winds may blow;   CLIFFE, CATESBY, Courtiers, and other AttendFond of the chosen place, she views it o'er,    ants.
Sits there, and wanders through the grove no more;
Warbling, she charms it each returning night,   Jane  S. rKneeling.] O noble Gloster, turn
And loves it with a mother's dear delight.             thy gracious eye,.n.  Incline thy pitying ear to my complaint;
A poor, undone, forsaken, helpless, woman,
ACT H[I.                     Entreats a little bread for charity,
To feed her wants, and save her life from perishing.
SCENE I.-Tie  C'ourt.                 Glos. Arise, fair dame, and dry your wat'ry
eyes.
E'nter ALICIA, with a paper.                   [Receiving the paper, and raising her.
Beshrew me, but'twere pity of his heart
Alic. This paper to the great protector's hand   That could refuse a boon to such a suittess.
With care and secrecy must be convey'd:       You've got a noble friend to be your advocate;
His bold ambition now avows its aim,          A worthy and right gentle lord he is,
l'o pluck the crown from Edward's infant brow,  And to his trust most true.  This present now
And fix it on his own. I know he holds        Some matters of the state detain our leisure;
My faithless Hastings adverse to his hopes,   Those once despatch'd, we'll call for you anon,
And much devoted to the orphan king;          And give your griefs redress. Go to! be comforted.
On that I build: this paper meets his doubts,   Jane S. Good heavens repay your highness for
And marks my hated rival as the cause                  this pity,
Of Hastings' zeal for his dead master's sons.  And shower down blessings on your princely
O jealousy! thou bane of pleasing friendship,         head.
How does thy rancour poison all our softness,    Come, my Alicia, reach thy friendly arm,
And turn our gentle natures into bitterness!  And help me to support this feeble frame,
See, where she comes! once my heart's dearest That, nodding, totters with oppressive wo,
blessing,                             And sinks beneath its load.
Now my chang'd eyes are blasted with her beauty,                 [ Exeunt JANE S. and ALIC.
Loath that known face, and sicken to behold her.   Glos. Now, by my holidame!
Enter JANE SbHORE.               Heavy of heart she seems, and sore afflicted.
But thus it is when rude calamity
Jane S. 0 my Alicia!                       Lays its strong gripe upon these mincing minions;
Alic. What new grief is this'?              The dainty gew-gaw forms dissolve at once,
What unforeseen misfortune has surpris'd thee,   And shiver at the shock. What says her paper?
That racks thy tender heart thus                                          [Seeming to read.
Jane S. 0 Dumont!                           Ha! What is this?  Come nearer, -Ratcliffe!
Alic. Say, what of him?                             Catesby!
Jane S. That friendly, honest, man,         Mark the contents, and then divine the meaning.
Whom Belmour brought of late to my-assistance,                                   [He reads,
On whose kind care, whose diligence and faith,   Wonder not, princely Gloster, at the notice
My surest trust was built, this very morn     This paper brings youfrom afriend unknown;
Was seiz'd on by the cruel hand of power,     Lord Hastings is inclin'd to call you Master,
Forc'd from my house, and borne away to prison. And kneel to Richard as to England's.king;
Alic. To prison, said you? can you guess the But Shore's bewitching wife misleads his heart,
cause 2                              And draws his service to king Edward's sons:
Jane S. Too well, I fear. His bold defence of me Drive her away, you break the charm that holds
}Has drawn the vengeance of Lord Hastings on           him,
him.                                 And he, and all his powers attend on you.
Alic. Lord Hastings! ha!                     Sir R.'Tis wonderful!
Jane S. Some fitter time must tell thee       Cates. The means by which it came
The tale of my hard hap. Upon the present    Yet stranger too!
Hang all my poor, my last remaining, hopes.      Glos. You saw it given, but now.
Within this paper is my suit contain'd;          Sir R. She could not know the purport.
Here, as the princely Gloster passes forth,     Glos. No,'tis plain —
I wait to give it on my humble knees,         She knows it not, it levels at her life;




84                              JANE  SHORE.                                  LACT.I1.
Should she presume to prateof such high matters,   Glos. The council (much I'm bound to thank
The meddling harlot, dear she should abide it.'em for't)
Cates. What hand soe'er it comes from, be as- Have plac'd a pageant sceptre in my hand,
sur'd,                              Barren of power, and subject to control;
It means your highness well-                Scorn'd by my foes, and useless to mvy friends.
Glos. Upon the instant,                   Oh, worthy lord! were mine the rule indeed.
Lord Hastings will be here; this morn I mean   I think I should not suffer rank offence
To prove him to the quick; then if he flinch,  At large to lord it in the commonweal;
No more but this-away with him at once,     Nor would the realm be rent by discord thus,
He must be mine or nothing.-But he comes! Thus fear and doubt, betwixt disputed titles.
Draw nearer this way, and observe me well.    Lord H. Of this I am to learn; as not supposing
[ They whisper. A doubt like thisGlos. Ay, marry, but there is
Enter LORD HASTINGS.             And that of much concern. Have you not heard
How, on a late occasion, Doctor Shaw
Lord H. This foolish woman hangs about my  Has mov'd the people much about the lawfulness
heart,                              Of Edward's issue! By right grave authority
Lingers and wanders in my fancy still;      Of learning and religion, plainly proving,
This coyness is put on,'tis art and cunning,  A bastard scion never should be grafted
And worn to urge desire- I must possess her.  Upon a royal stock; from thence at full
The groom, who lift his saucy hand against me,  Discoursing on my brother's former contract
Ere this is humbled, and repents his daring.  To lady Elizabeth Lucy, long before
Perhaps, even she may profit by th' example,    His jolly match with that same buxom widow,
And teach her beauty not to scorn my power.    The queen he left behind himGlos. This do, and wait me ere the council sits.   Lord H. Ill befall
[Exeunt RATCLIFFE, and CATESBY. Such meddling priests, who kindle up confusion,
My lord, you're well encounter'd; here has been  And vex the quiet world with their vain scruples!
A fair petitioner this morning with us;     By heaven,'tis done in perfect spite of peace.
Believe me, she has won me much to pity her:   Did not the king,
Alas! her gentle nature was not made        Our royal master, Edward, in concurrence
To buffet with adversity. I told her        With his estates assembled, well determine
How worthily her cause you had befriended;    What course the sov'reign rule should take henceHow much for your good sake we meant to do,          forward?
That you had spoke, and all things should be well. When shall the deadly hate of faction cease,
LordH. Your highness binds me ever to your When shall our long-divided land have rest,
service.                            If every peevish, moody, malecontent,
Glos. You know your friendship is most po- Shall set the senseless rabble in an uproar,
tent with us,                       Fright them with dangers, and perplex their brains
And shares our power. But of this enough,   Each day with some fantastic giddy change?
For we have other matters for your ear.        Glos. What if some patriot, for the public good,
The state is out of tune: distracting fears,  Should vary from your scheme, new-mould the
And jealous doubts, jar in our public councils.     state?
Amidst the wealthy city, murmurs rise,       /Lord H. Curse on the innovating hand atLewd railings, and reproach on those that rule,      tempts it!
With open scorn of government; hence credit,   Remember him, the villain, righteous heaven,
And public trust'twixt man and man are broke.:In thy great day of vengeance! Blast the traitor
The golden streams of commerce are withheld,   And his pernicious counsels; who, for wealth,
Which fed the wants of needy hinds and artizans,  For power, the pride of greatness, or revenge,
Who therefore cursethe great, and threat rebellion. Would plunge his native land in civil wars!
Lord H. The resty knaves are over-run with    Glos. You go too far, my lord.
ease,                                 Lord H. Your highness' pardon
As plenty ever is the nurse of faction;     Have we so soon forgot those days of ruin,
If, in good days, like these, the headstrong herd   When York and Lancaster drew forth their
Grow madly wanton and repine, it is                  battles;
Because the reins of power are held too slack,    When, like a matron butcher'd by her sons,
And reverend authority of late              Our groaning country bled at every vein;
Has worn a face of mercy more than justice.  When murders, rapes, and massacres, prevail'd;
Glos. Beshrew my heart! but you have well When churches, palaces, and cities blaz'd;
divin'd                             When insolence and barbarism triumph'd,
The source of these disorders. Who can wonder And swept away distinction: peasants trod
If riot and misrule o'erturn the realm,     Upon the necks of nobles: low were laid
When the crown sits upon a baby brow?      The reverend crosier and the holy mitre,
Plainly to speak, hence comes the gen'ral cry,    And desolation cover'd all the land?
And sum of all complaint:'twill ne'er be well    Who can remember this, and not, like me,
With England (thus they talk) while children  Here vow to sheath a dagger in his heart,
govern.                             Whose damn'd ambition would renew  those
Lord H.'Tis true, the king is young: but what     horrors,
of that?                           And set once more that scene of blood before us?
We feel no want of Edward's riper years,       Glos. How now! so hot!
While Gloster's valour and most princely wisdom    Lord H. So brave, and so resolv.ed.
So well support our infant sov'reign's place,  Glos. Is then our friendship of so little moment,
His youth's support, and guardian to his throne.  That you could arm your hand against my life?




SCENE I.]                       JANE  SHORE.                                       85
Lord I. I hope your highness does not think  Teach every grace to smile in your behalf,
I mean it;                          And her deluded eyes to gloat for you;
No, heaven forfend that e'er your princely person His ductile reason will be wound about,
Should come within the scope of my resentment.  Be led and turn'd again, say and unsay,
Glos. 0 noble Hastings! nay, I must embrace Receive the yoke, and yield exact obedience.
you;                                  Glos. Your counsel likes me well, it shall be
By holy Paul, you're a right honest man!             follow'd
[Embraces him. She waits without, attending on her suit.
The time is full of danger and distrust,    Go, call her in, and leave us here alone.
And warns us to be wary. Hold me not                    [Exeunt RATCLIFFE and CATESBY.
Too apt for jealousy and light surmise,     How poor a thing is he, how worthy scorn,
If, when I meant to lodge you next my heart,    Who leaves the guidance of imperial manhood
I put your truth to trial. Keep your loyalty,    To such a paltry piece of stuff as this is!
And live your king and country's best support:  A moppet made of prettiness and pride;
For me, I ask no more than honour gives,     That oftener does her giddy fancies change,
To think me yours, and rank me with your friends. Than glittering dew-drops in the sun do colours[Exit. Now, shame upon it! was our reason given
Lord H. I am not read,                    For such a use; to be thus puff'd about?
Nor skill'd and practis'd in the arts of greatness,  Sure there is something more than witchcraft in
To kindle thus, and give a scope to passion.        them,
The duke is surely noble: but he touch'd me  That masters even the wisest of us all.
Even on the tend'rest point; the master-string           Enter JANE SHORE.
That makes most harmony or discord to me.
I own the glorious subject fires my breast,  Oh! you are come most fitly. We have ponder'd
And my soul's darling passion stands confess'd;  On this your grievance: and though some there are,
Beyond or love's or friendship's sacred band,  Nay, and those great ones too, who would enforce
Beyond myself, I prize my native land:       The rigour of our power to afflict you,
On this foundation would I build my fame,   And bear a heavy hand; yet fear not you:
And emulate the Greek and Roman name;       We've ta'en you to our favour: our protection
Think England's peace bought cheaply with my Shall stand between, and shield you from mishap.
blood,                                Jane S. The blessings of a heart with anguish
And die with pleasure for my country's good.         broken
[Exit. And rescu'd from despair, attend your highness.
Alas! my gracious lord, what have I done
ACT IV.                     To kindle such relentless wrath against me
SCENE I. —The same.                  Glos. Marry, there are, though I believe them
not,
Enter DUKE OF GLOSTER, RATCLI'F'E, and   Who say you meddle in affairs of state:
CATEsBY.                    That you presume to prattle like a busy-body,
Give your advice, and teach the lords o' the council
Glos. This was the sum of all; that he would  What fits the order of the commonweal.
brook                                 Jane S. Oh, that the busy world, at least in this,
No alteration in the present state.         Would take example from a wretch like me 
Marry, at last, the testy gentleman         None then would waste their hours in foreign
Was almost mov'd to bid us bold defiance:            thoughts.
But there I dropp'd the argument, and, changing Forget themselves, and what concerns their peace,
The first design and purport of my speech,  To search, with prying eyes, for faults abroad,
I prais'd his good affection to young Edward,    If all, like me, consider'd their own hearts,
And left him to believe my thoughts like his.  And wept their sorrows which they found at home.
Proceed we then in this foremention'd matter,  Glos. Go to; I know your power; and though
As nothing bound or trusting to his friendship.      I trust not
Sir R. Ill does it thus befall. I could have To every breath of fame, I'm not to learn
wish'd                              That Hastings is profess'd your loving vassal.
This lord had stood with us.                But fair befall your beauty: use it wisely,
His name had been of'vantage to your highness, And it may stand your fortunes much in stead,
And stood our present purpose much in stead.   Give back your forfeit land with large increase,
Glos. This wayward and perverse declining And place you high in safety and in honour.
from us,             -              Nay, 1 could point a way, the which pursuing,
Has warranted at full the friendly notice,  You shall not only brin yourself advantage,
Which we this morn receiv'd. I hold it certain, But give the realm much worthy cause to thank
The puling, whining harlot rules his reason,         you.
And prompts his zeal for Edward's bastard brood.   Jane S. Oh! where or how-can my unworCates. If she have such dominion o'er his heart,  thy hand
And turn it at her will, you rule her fate;  Become an instrument of good to any?
And should, by inference and apt deduction,  Instruct your lowly slave, and let me fly
Be arbiter of his. Is not her bread,        To yield obedience to your dread command.
The very means immediate to her being,         Glos. Why, that's well said-Thus then-Obh
The bounty of your hand?  Why does she live,       serve me well.
If not to yield obedience to your pleasure,  The state, for many high and potent reasons,
To speak, to act, to think, as you command!    Deeming my brother Edward's sons unfit
Sir R. Let her instruct her tongue to bear your For the imperial weight of England's crownmessage;                              Jane S. Alas! for pity.
8




863                             JANE  SHORE.                                 [ACT. IV.
Glos. Therefore have resolv'd               Glos.'Tis well-we'll try the temper of your
To set aside their unavailing infancy                heart.
And vest the sov'reign rule in abler hands.  What, hoa! Who waits without?
This, though of great importance to the public,
Hastings, fbr very peevishness, and spleen,  Enter RATCLIFFE, CATESBY, and Attendante.
Does stubbornly oppose.                     Go, some of you, and turn this strumpet forth!
Jane S. Does he? 2 Does Hastings?         Spurn her into the street; there let her perish,
Glos. Ay, Hastings.                -      And rot upon a dunghill. Through the city
Jane S. Reward him for the noble deed, just See it proclaim'd, that none, on pain of death,
For    heavensi! i                         Presume to give her comfort, food, or harbour;
For this one action, guard him and distinguish him  Who ministers the smallest comfort, dies.
With signal mercies, and with great deliverance; Her house, her costly furniture and wealth,
Save him from wrong, adversity, and shame,  We seize on, for the profit of the state.
Let never-fading honours flourish round him,    Away! Be gone!
And consecrate his name, even to time's end.  Jane S. Oh, thou most righteous JudgeGlos. How now!                            Humbly behold, I bow myself to thee,
Jane S. The poor, forsaken, royal little ones! And own thy justice in this hard decree:
Shall they be left a prey to savage power?  No longer, then, my ripe offences spare,
Can they lift up their harmless hands in vain,    But what I merit, let me learn to bear.
Or cry to heaven for help, and not be heard?2    Yet, since'tis all my wretchedness can give,
Impossible! 0 gallant, generous, Hastings,  For my past crimes my forfeit life receive;
Go on; pursue, assert, the sacred cause:    No pity for my sufferings here I crave,
Stand forth, thou proxy of all-ruling Providence, And only hope forgiveness in the grave.
And save the friendless infants from oppression.  a  [Exit JANE SHORE, guarded by CATESBY
Saints shall assist thee with prevailing prayers,      and others.
And warring angels combat on thy side.       Glos. So much for this. Your project's at an end.
Glos. You're passing rich in this same heaven-                      [T2 SIR RICHARD.
ly speech,'T'his idle toy, this hilding, scorns my power,
And spend it at your pleasure. Nay, but mark me! And sets us all at nought.  See that a guard
My favour is not bought with words like these.   Be ready at my callGo to-you'll teach your tongue another tale.   Sir R. The council waits
Jane S. No, though the royal Edward has un- Upon your highness' leisure.
done me,                              Glos. I'll attend them.          [Exeunt.
HIe was my king, my gracious master, still;
He lov'd me too, though'twas a guilty flame;    SCENE II.-he Council Chamber.
Anid can I-O my heart abhors    tought!
Stand by, and see his children robb'd of right?    The DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, EARL OFr DERBY,
Glos. Dare not, even for thy soul, to thwart me   BISHOP OF ELY, LORD HASTINGS, and others,
further!                             discovered in council. The DUKE OF GLOSTER
None of your arts, your feigning, and your foolery;   enters, and takes his place at the upper end.
Your dainty squeamish coying it to me;
Go-to your lord, your paramour, be gone!       Der. In happy times we are assembled here,
Lisp in his ear, hang wanton on his neck,    To point the day, and fix the solemn pomp,
And play your monkey gambols o'er to him.   For placing England's crown, with all due rites,
You know my purpose, look that you pursue it,   Upon our sovereign Edward's youthful brow.
And make him yield obedience to my will.      Lord H. Some busy, meddling knaves,'tis said,
Do it-or wo upon the harlot's head.                  there are,
Jane S. Oh that my tongue had every grace of As such will still be prating, who presume
speech,                             To carp and cavil at his royal right;
Great and commanding, as the breath of kings;   Therefore, I hold it fitting, with the soonest,
That I had art and eloquence divine,        T' appoint the order of the coronation;
To pay my duty to my master's ashes,        So to approve our duty to the king,
And plead, till death, the causeofinjur'd innocence. And stay the babbling of such vain gainsayers.
Glos. Ha! Dost thou brave me, minion! Dost   Der. We all attend to know your highness'
thou know                                   pleasure.               To GLOSTF.R.
How vile, how very a wretch, my power can make    Glos. My lords, a set of worthy men you are,
thee?                              Prudent, and just, and careful for the state;
That I can place thee in such abject state  Therefore, to your most grave determination
As help shall never find thee; where, repining,   I yield myself in all things; and demand
Thou shalt sit down, and gnaw the earth for an- What punishment your wisdom shall think meet
guish                               T' inflict upon those damnable contrivers,
Groan to the pitiless winds without return;  Who shall, with potions, charms, and witching
Howl, like the midnight wolf amidst the desert,      drugs,
And curse thy life, in bitterness and misery!    Practise against our person and our life!
Jane S. Let me be branded for: the public scorn,   Lord I. So much I hold the king your highTurn'd forth and driven to wander like a vaga-       ness' debtor,
bond,                               So precious are you to the commonweal,
Be friendless and forsaken, seek my bread    That I presume, not only for myself;
Upon the barren wild and desolate waste,     But in behalf of these my noble brothers,
Feed on my sighs, and drink my falling tears,    To say, whoe'er they be, they merit death.
Ere I consent to teach my lips injustice,      Glos. Then judge yourselves, convince your
lOr wrong the orphan, who has none to save him       eyes of truth:




SCENE II.                       JANE  SHORE.                                       87
Behold my arm, thus- blasted, dry, and wither'd,;    Alic. Stop a minute —
[Pulling up his sleeves. Till my full griefs find passage. 0, the tyrant!
Shrunk like a foul abortion, and decay'd,    Perdition fall on Gloster's head and mine.
Like some untimely product of the seasons,     Lord H. What means thy frantic grief?
Robb'd of its properties of strength and office.  Alic. I cannot speakThis is the sorcery of Edward's wife,        But I have murder'd thee.-Oh, I could tell thee t
Who, in conjunction with that harlot Shore,    Lord H. Speak, and give ease to thy conflictAnd other like confed'rate, midnight hags,           ing passion!
By force of potent spells, of bloody characters,    Be quick, nor keep me longer in suspense,
And conjurations horrible to hear,           Time presses, and a thousand crowding thoughts
Call fiends and spectres from the yawning-deep,  Break in at once! this way and that they snatch,
And set the ministers of hell at work,       They tear my hurried soul.-All claim attention,
To torture and despoil me of my life.        And yet not one is heard. Oh! speak, and leave
Lord H. If thev have done this deed                me
Glos. If they have done it!               For I have business would employ an age,
Talkest thou to me of ifs, audacious traitor!  And but a minute's time to get it done in.
Thou art that strumpet witch's chief abettor,  Alic. That, that's my grief-'tis I that urge
The patron and complotter of her mischiefs,           thee on,
Arn4 join'd in this contrivance for my death.  Thus hunt thee to the toil, sweep thee from earth,
Na) start not, lords-What,ho! a guard there, Sirs! And drive thee down this precipice of fate.
Enter Guards.                    Lord H. Thy reason is grown wild. Could thy
weak hand
Lord Hastings, 1 arrest thee of high treason.  Bring on this mighty ruin. If it could,
Seize him, and bear him instantly away.      What have I done so grievous to thy soul,
He shall not live an hour. By holy Paul,     So deadly, so beyond the reach of pardon,
I will not dine before his head be brought me.    That nothing but my life can make atonement'!
Ratcliffe, stay thou, and see that it be done:  Alic. Thy cruel scorn hath stung me to thet
The rest, that love me, rise and follow me.           heart,
[Exeunt GLOSTER and LORDS.: And set my burning bosom all in flames:
LORD HASTINGS, SIR RICHARD RATCLIFFE, and  Raving and mad I flew to my revenge,
Guards, remain.                And writ I know not what-told the protector,
Lord H. What! and no more but this-How! That Shore's detested wife, by wiles, had won thee
to the scaffold!                     To plot against his greatness.-He believ'd it,
Oh, gentle Ratcliffe! tell me, do I hold thee?  (Oh, dire event of my pernicious counsel!)
Or, if I dream, what shall I do to wake,     And, while I meant destruction on her head,
To break, to struggle, through this dread confu- He has turn'd it all on thine.
sion                                   Lord H. O, thou inhuman! Turn thy eyes
For surely death itself is not so painful             away,
As is this sudden horror and surprise.        And blast me not with their destructive beams:
S'ir R. You heard the duke's commands to me  Why should I curse thee with my dying breath?
were absolute.                       Be gone! and let me die in peace.
Therefore, my lord, address you to your shrift,  Alic. Canst thou, 0 cruel Hastings, leave me
With all good speed you may. Summon your              thus?
courage,                             Hear me, I beg thee-I conjure thee, hear me!
And be yourself; for you must die this instant.   While, with an agonizing heart, I swear,
Lord H. Yes, Ratcliffe, I will take thy friendly  By all the pangs I feel, by all the sorrows,
counsel,                             The terrors and despair thy loss shall give me,
And die as a man should;'tis somewhat hard,    My hate was on my rival bent alone.
To call my scatter'd spirits home at once:   Oh! had I once divin'd, false as thou art,
But since what must be, must be-let necessity   A danger to thy life, I would have died,
Supply the place of time and preparation,    I would have met it for thee.
And arm me for the blow.'Tis but to die,      Lord H. Now mark! and tremble at heaven's'Tis but to venture on the common hazard,             just award:
Which many a time in battle I have run;      While thy insatiate wrath and fell revenge'Tis but to close my eyes and shut out daylight,  Pursu'd the innocence which never wrong'd thee,
To view no more the wicked ways of men,      Behold, the mischief falls on thee and me:
No longer to behold the tyrant Gloster,      Remorse and heaviness of heart shall wait thee,
And be a weeping witness of the woes,        And everlasting anguish be thy portion.
The desolation, slaughter, and calamities,   For me, the snares of death are wound about me,
Which he shall bring on this unhappy land.   And now, in one poor moment, I am gone.: Enter AICIA.                Oh! if thou hast one tender thought remaining,
Fly to thy closet, fall upon thy knees,
Alic. Stand off, and let me pass-I will, I must, And recommend my parting soul to mercy.
Catch him once more in these despairing arms,    Alic; Oh! yet, before I go for ever from thee,
And hold him to my heart.-O, Hastings! Hast- Turn thee in gentleness and pity to me,
ings!                                                                  [Kneeling
Lord H. Alas! why com'st thou at this dread- And, in compassion of my strong affliction,
ful moment,                          Say, is it possible you can forgive
To fill me with new terrors, new distractions;   The fatal rashness of ungovern'd love? 
To turn me wild with thy distemper'd rage,   For, oh!'tis certain, if I had not lov'd thee
And shock the peace of my departing soul?   Beyond my peace, my reason, fame, and life,
Away; I pr'ythee, leave me 1                 This day of horror never.orruld have known us.




88                              JANE SHORE.                                    [Acr V.
Lord H. Oh, rise, and let me hush thy stormy Cast every good, and every hope, behind;
sorrows.              [Raising her. Detest the works of nature, loathe mankind;
Assuage thy tears, for I will chide no more,  Like me, with cries distracted fill the air,
No more upbraid thee, thou unhappy fair one.    Tear her poor bosom, rend her frantic hair,
I see the hand of heaven is arm'd against me,    And prove the torments of the last despair.
And, in mysterious providence, decrees                                            [Exii
To punish me by thy mistaken hand.
Most righteous doom! for, oh, while I behold thee,           ACT V.
Thy wrongs rise up in terrible array,
And charge thy ruin on me; thy fair fame,               SCENE I-A   treet.
Thy spotless beauty, innocence, and youth,          Enter BELMOUR and DUMONT.
Dishonour'd, blasted, and betray'd, by me.
Alic. And does thy heart relent for my undoing?   Dum. You saw her, then?
Oh, that inhuman Gloster could be mov'd,      EBel. I met her, as returning
But half so easily as I can pardon!        In solemn penance from the public cross.
Lord H. Here, then, exchange we mutual for- Before her, certain rascal officers,
giveness:                           Slaves in authority, the knaves of justice,
So may the guilt of all my broken vows,      Proclaim'd the tyrant Gloster's cruel orders.
My perjuries to thee, be all forgotten,     Around her, numberless, the rabble flow'd,
As here my soul acquits thee of my death,    Should'ring each other, crowding, for a view,
As here I part without one angry thought,    Gaping and gazing, taunting and reviling;
As here I leave thee with the softest tenderness,   Some pitying-but those, alas, how few!
Mourning the chance of our disastrous loves,  The most, such iron hearts we are, and such
And begging heaven to bless and to support thee. The base barbarity of humankind,
Sir R. My lord, despatch; the duke has sent to With insolence and lewd reproach pursu'd her,l
chide me,                           Hooting and railing, and with villanous hands
For loitering in my duty-                   Gath'ring the filth from out the common ways,
Lord H. I obey.                            To hurl upon her head.
Alic. Insatiate, savage, monster! Is a moment   Dum. Inhuman dogs!
So tedious to thy malice?'  Oh, repay him,  How did she bear it?
Thou great Avenger! Give him blood for blood:   Bel. With the gentlest patience;
Guilt haunt him! fiends pursue him! lightnings Submissive, sad, and lowly, was her look;
blast him!                          A burning taper in her hand she bore,
That he may know how terrible it is,         And on her shoulders, carelessly confus'd,
To want that moment he denies thee now.     With loose neglect, her lovely tresses hung;
Lord H. This rage is all in vain, that tears thy Upon her cheek a faintish blush was spread;
bosom:                              Feeble she seem'd, and sorely smit with pain.
Retire, I beg thee;                          While, barefoot as she trod the flinty pavement,
To see thee thus, thou know'st not how it wounds Her footsteps all along were mark'd with blood;
me;                                 Yet, silent still she pass'd, and unrepining:
Thy agonies are added to my own,             Her streaming eyes bent ever on the earth,
And make the burden more than I can bear.    Except when, in some bitter pang of sorrow,
Farewell-Good angels visit thy afflictions,  To heaven, she seem'd in fervent zeal to raise,
And bring thee peace and comfort from above.   And beg that mercy man denied her here.
[Exit.   Dum. When was this piteous sight?
Alic. Oh! stab me to the heart, some pitying    Bel. These last two days.
hand,                               You know my care was wholly bent on you,
Now strike me dead-                          To find the happy means of your deliverance,
Re-e~nter LORD HAsTINGEs.          Which but for Hastings' death I had not gain'd
During that time, although I have not seen her,
Lord H. One thing I had forgot-            Yet divers trusty messengers I've sent,
I charge thee, by our present common miseries;  To wait about, and watch a fit convenience
By our past loves, if they have yet a name;  To give her some relief, but all in vain;
By all the hopes of peace here and hereafter;  A churlish guard attends upon her steps,
Let not the rancour of thy hate pursue       Who menace those with death, that bring her
The innocence of thy unhappy friend;                 comfort,
Thou know'st who'tis I mean; Oh! should'st thou And drive all succour from her.
wrong her,                            Dum. Let'em threaten;
Just heaven shall double all thy woes upon thee,  Let proud oppression prove its fiercest malice;
And make'em know no end-Remember this,   So heaven befriend my soul, as here I vow
As the last warning of a dying man.          To give her help, and share one fortune with her.
Farewell, for ever!                            Bel. Mean you to see her thus in your own
[The Guards carry HASTINGS ff.          form?
Alic. For ever! Oh, for ever!  Dum. I do.
Oh, who can bear to be a wretch for ever!      Bel. And have you thought upon the conseMy rival, too! his last thoughts hung on her,       quence 2
And, as he parted left a blessing for her:     Dum. What is there I should fear?
Shall she be blest, and I be curst, for ever  EBel. Have you examin'd
No; since her fatal beauty was the cause     Into your inmost heart, and try'd at leisure
-Of all my sufferings, let her share my pains;  The sev'ral secret springs that move the passions
Let her, like me, of every joy forlorn,      Has mercy fix'd her empire there so sure,
Devote the hour when such a wretch was born;  That wrath and vengeance never may return I




SCENE.]                        JANE  SHORE.                                       89
Can you resume a husband's name, and bid    All food and friendship from her, yet permit her
That wakeful dragon, fierce resentment, sleep.   To wander in the streets, there choose her bed,
Dum. O, thou hast set my busy brain at work, And rest her head on what cold stone she pleases.
And now she musters up a train of images,      Dum. Here then let us divide; each in his
Which, to preserve my peace, 1 had cast aside,       round
And sunk in deep oblivion-Oh, that form!     To search her sorrows out; whose hap it is
That angel face on which my dotage hung!    First to behold her, this way let him lead
How I have gaz'd upon her, till my soul      Her fainting steps, and meet we here together.
With very eagerness went forth towards her,                                     [Exeunt.
And issu'd at my eyes.-Was there a gem
Which the sun ripens in the Indian mine,                SCENVE II.-A Street.
Or the rich bosom of the ocean yields?         Enter JANE SHORE, her hair hanging loose on
What was there art could make, or wealth could      her shoulders, and bare-footed.
buy,
Which I have left unsought to deck her beauty?    Jane S. Yet, yet endure, nor murmur, O my
What could her king do more?-And yet she fled.      soul!
Bel. Away with that sad fancy-             For are not thy transgressions great and numberDum. Oh, that day!                                less?
The thought of it must live for ever with me.    Do they not cover thee like rising floods,
I met her, Belmour, when the royal spoiler   And press thee like a weight of waters down?
Bore her in triumph from my widow'd home!    Wait then with patience, till the circling hours
Within his chariot, by his side, she sat,    Shall bring the time of thy appointed rest,
And listen'd to his talk with downward looks,    And lay thee down in death.'Tlill, sudden as she chanc'd aside to glance,  And hark! methinks the roar, that late pursud me,
Hereyes encounter'd mine-Oh I then, my friend! Sinks like the murmurs of a falling wind,
Oh! who can paint my grief and her. amazement  And softens into silence. Does revenge
As at the stroke of death, twice turn'd she pale;  And malice then grow weary, and forsake ne?
And twice a burning crimson blush'd all o'er her My guard, too, that observ'd me still so close,
Then, with a shriek heart-wounding, loud she Tire in the task of their inhuman office
cried,                              And loiter far behind. Alas! I faint
VWhile down her cheeks two gushing torrents ran  My spirits fail at once-this is the door
Fast falling on her hands, which thus she wrung-  Of my Alicia-Blessed opportunity!
Mov'd at her grief, the tyrant ravisher,     I'll steal a little succour from her goodness,
With courteous action, woo'd her oft to turn  Now while no eye observes me.
Earnest he seem'd to plead, but all in vain;                       [She knocks at the door
Even to the last she bent her sight towards me,
And follow'd me-till I had lost myself.
Bel. Alas, for pity! Oh! those speaking tears! Is your lady,
Could they be false? did she not suffer with you? My gentle friend, at home? Oh! bring me to her.
For, though the king by force possess'd her person,   Serv. Hold, mistress, whither would you 1
Her unconsenting heart dwelt still with you?                          [Pulling her back.
If all her former woes were not enough,        Jane S. Do you not know me?
Look on her now; behold her where she wanders,   Serv. I know you well, and know my orders too:
Hunted to death, distress'd on every side,   You must not enter here
With no one hand to help; and tell me then,    Jane S. Tell my Alicia,
If ever misery were known like hers?'Tis I would see her.
Dum. And can she bear it? Can that delicate   Serv. She is ill at ease,
frame                               And will admit no visitor.
Endure the beating of a storm so rude 1        Jane S. But tell her
Can she, for whom the various seasons chang'd'Tis 1, her friend, the partner of her heart,
To court her appetite and crown her board,   Wait at the door and beg,For whom the foreign vintages were pressgd,    Serv.'Tis all in vain,For whom the merchant spread his silken stores, Go hence, and howl to those that will regard you
Can she-                                                         [Shuts the door, and exit
Entreat for bread, and want the needful raiment    Jane S. It was not always thus; the time has
To wrap her shiv'ring bosom from the weather q       been,
When she was mine, no care came ever nigh her; When this unfriendly door, that bars my passage,
I thought the gentlest breeze that wakes the spring  Flew wide, and almost leap'd from off' its hinges,
Too rough to breathe upon her; cheerfulness    To give me entrance here; when this good house
Danc'd all the day before her, and at night  Has pour'd forth all its dwellers to receive me;
Soft slumbers waited on her downy pillow.-  When my approaches made a little holiday,
-Now, sad and shelterless, perhaps she lies,  And every face was dress'd in smiles to meet me:
Where piercing winds blow sharp, and the chill But now'tis otherwise; and those who bless'd me
rain                                Now curse me to my face. W hy should I wander,
Drops from some pent-house on her wretched head, Stray further on, for I can die even here?
Drenches her locks, and kills her with the cold.               [She sits down at the door.
It is too much.-Hence with her past offences,
They are aton'd at full.-Why stay we then?    Enter ALTCIA in disorder, two SERVANTS
Oh! let us haste, my friend, and find her out.               tbllowing.
Bel. Somewhere about this quarter of the town,   Alic. What wretch art thou, whose misery and
I hear the poor abandon'd creature lingers:         baseness
Her guard, though set with strictest watch to keep Hangs on my door; whose hateful whine of wo
VOL1...M.               8*




90                              JANE SHORE.                                   [ACT V
Breaks in upon my sorrows, and distracts     Thou common parent, take me to thy bosom,
My jarring senses with thy beggar's cry I    And let me rest with thee.
Jane S. A very beggar, and a wretch, indeed;
One driven by strong calamity to seek
For succours here; one perishing for want,     Bel. Upon the ground!
Whose hunger has not tasted food these three days, Thy miseries can never lay thee lower.
And humbly asks, for charity's dear sake,    Look up, thou poor afflicted one! thou mourner,
A draught of water and a little bread.       Whom  none has comforted! Where are thy
Alic. And dost thou come to me, to me, for bread;  friends,
I know thee not-Go-hunt for it abroad,       The dear companions of thy joyful days,
Where wanton hands upon the earth have scat- Whose hearts thy warm prosperity made glad,
ter'd it,                           Whose arms were taught to grow like ivy round
Or cast it on the waters-Mark the eagle,             thee,
And hungry vulture, where they wind the prey; And bind thee to their bosoms? Thus, with thee,
Watch where the ravens of the valley feed,   Thus let us live, and let us die, they said.
And seek thy food with them-I know thee not. Now where are they.
Jane S. And yet there was a time, when my   Jane S. Ah, Belmour! where, indeed 2 They
Alicia                                       stand aloof,
Has thought unhappy Shore her dearest blessing. And view my desolation from afar!
And mourn'd the live-long day she passed with- And yet thy goodness turns aside to pity me.
out me;                             Alas! there may be danger; get thee gone.
Inclining fondly to me, she has sworn        Let me not pull a ruin on thy head.
She lov'd me more than all the world besides.    Leave me to die alone, for I am fallen
Alic. Ha! say'st thou? Let me look upon thee Never to rise, and all relief is vain.
well-                                 Bel. Yet raise thy drooping head; for I anm'Tis true-I know thee now-A mischief on thee!       come
Thou art that fatal fair, that cursed she,  -'o chase away despair. Behold! where yonder
That set my brain a madding. Thou hast robb'd That honest man, that faithful, brave, Dumont,
me;                                 Is hasting to thy aidThou hast undone me —Murder! 0, my Hast-   Jane S. Dumont! Ha! where?
ings!                                         [Raising herself and looking about.
See his pale bloody head shouts glaring by me!  Then heaven has heard my prayer; his very
Avaunt; and come not near me-                       name
Jane S. To thy hand                        Renews the springs of life, and cheers my soul.
I'trusted all; gave my whole store to thee,  Has he then'scap'd the snare?
Nor do I ask it back; allow me but             Bel. He has; but seeThe smallest pittance, give me but to eat,   He comes, unlike to that Dumont you knew,
Lest I fall down and perish here before thee.  For now he wears your better angel's form,
Alic. Nay! tell not me! Where is thy king, And comes to visit you with peace and pardon.
thy Edward,
And all thy cringing train of courtiers,
That bent the knee before thee?                Jane S. Speak, tell me! Which is he?  And
Jane S. Oh! for mercy!                            oh! what would
Alic. Mercy! I know it not-for I am miserable. This dreadful vision! See it comes upon meI'll give thee misery, for here she dwells,  It is my husband-Ah!            [Shle swoons..
This is her house, where the sun never dawns;  Shore. She faints! support her!
The bird of night sits screaming o'er the roof,  Bel. Her weakness could not bear the strong
Grim spectres weep along the horrid gloom,           surprise.
And nought is heard but wailings and lamentings. But see, she stirs! And the returning blood
Hark! something cracks above! it shakes! it Faintly begins to blush again, and kindle
totters!                           Upon her ashy cheekAnd see the nodding ruin falls to crush me!    Shore. So-gently raise her —'Tis fallen,'tis here! I felt it on my brain!-                       [Raising- her usp.
Let her take my counsel:                       Jane S. Ha! what art thou?  Belmoura!
Why should'st thou be a wretch 1 Stab, tear thy    Bel. How fare you, lady?
heart,                                Jane S. My heart' is thrill'd with horrorAnd rid thyself of this detested being:        Bel. Be of courageI wo' not linger long behind thee here.      Your husband lives!'tis he, my worthiest friendA waving flood of bluish fire swells o'er me;  Jane S. Still art thou there! —Still dost thou
And now'tis out, and I am drown'd in blood.         hover round me!
Ha! what art thou? thou horrrid headless trunk! Oh, save me, Belmour, from his angry shade!
It is my Hastings! see he wafts me on!  B- el.'Tis he himself! he lives! look upAway! I go! I fly! I follow thee.    [Runs of.   Jane S. I dare not!
Jane S. Alas! she raves; her brain, I fear, is Oh! that my eyes could shut him out for everturn'd;                                Shore. Am I so hateful then, so deadly to thee,
In mercy look upon her, gracious heaven,     To blast thy eyes with horror?:Since I'm grown
Nor visit her for any wrong to me.           A burden to the world, myself, and thee,
Sure I am near upon my journey's endi        Would I had ne'er surviv'd to see thee more.
My head runs round, mny eyes begin to fail,    Jane S. Oh! thou most injur'd-dost thou live,
And dancing shadows swim before my sight.            indeed 1
I can no more, [Lies down.] receive me, thou cold Fall then, ye mountains, on my guilty head;
earth,                              Hide me, ye rocks, within your secret caverns;




S(ENE II.]                      JANE  SHORE.                                       91
Cast thy black veil upon my shame, 0 night!    Jane S. I will not part with him-for me!
And shield me with thy sable wing for ever.          -for me!
Shore. Why dost thou turn away --— Why Oh! must he die for me?
tremble thus?                        [Following him as he is carried off; she falls.
Why thus indulge thy fears? and, in despair,  Shore. Inhuman villains!
Abandon thy distracted soul to horror?                          [Breaks from the Guards.
Cast every black and guilty thought behind thee, Stand off'! the agonies of death are on her —
And let'em never vex thy quiet more.       She pulls, she gripes me hard with her cold hand.
My arms, my heart, are open to receive thee,  Jane S. Was this blow wanting to complete
To bring thee back to thy forsaken home,             my ruin?
With tender joy, with fond forgiving love.  Oh! let me go, ye ministers of terror.
Let us haste,                               He shall offend no more, for I will die,
Now while occasion seems to smile upon us,  And yield obedience to your cruel master.
Forsake this place of shame, and find a shelter.   Tarry a little, but a little longer,
Jane S. What shall I say to you? But; I obey — And take my last breath with you.
Shore. Lean on my arm -                      Shore. Oh, my love!
Jane S. Alas! I'm wondrous faint:         Why dost thou fix thy dying eyes upon me,
But that's not strange, I have not eat these three With such an earnest, such a piteous, look,
days.                               As if thy heart were full of some sad meaning
Shore. Oh! merciless!                    Thou could'st not speak!Jane S. Oh! I am sick at heart!-           Jane S. Forgive me!- but forgive me!
Shore. Thou murd'rous sorrow!               Shore. Be witness for me, ye celestial hosts,
Wo't thou still drink her blood, pursue her still 1   Such mercy and such pa-don as my soul
Must she then die 1  O my poor penitent!    Accords to thee, and begs of heaven to show thee;
Speak peace to thy sad heart; she hears me not:  May such befall me at my latest hour,
Grief masters every sense-                   And make my portion blest or curst for ever.
Jane S. Then all is well, and I shall sleep in
Enter CATESBY, with a guard.                 peacepeace-.Cates. Seize on'em both, as traitors to the state-'Tis very dark, and I have lost you now —
Bel. What means this violence?            Was there not something I would have bequeath'd
[Guards lay hold on SHORE and BELMOUR.          you?
Cates. Have we not found you,             But I have nothing left me to bestow,
In scorn of the protector's strict command,  Nothing but one sad sigh. Oh! mercy, heaven!
Assisting this base woman, and abetting                                           [Dies.
Her infamy?                                   Bel. There fled the soul,
Shore. Infamy on thy head!               And left her load of misery behind.
Thou tool of power, thou pander to authority!  Shore. Oh, heavy hour!
I tell thee, knave, thou know'st of none so virtuous, Fare thee well —      [IKissing her.
And she that bore thee was an Ethiop to her.   Now execute your tyrant's will, and lead me
Cates. You'll answer this at full-away with To bonds or death,'tis equally indifferent.'em.                                  Bel. Let those, who view this sad example, know
Shore. Is charity grown treason to your court? What fate attends the broken marriage vow;
What honest man would live beneath such And teach their children, in succeeding times,
rulers?                            No common vengeance waits upon these crimes,
I am content that we should die together —    When such severe repentance could not save
Cates. Convey the men to prison; but, for her, From want, from shame, and an untimely grave.
Leave her to hunt her fortune as she may.            [ The curtain descends slowly to music




WAYS AND MEANS:
A COMIED Y,
IN THREE ACTS.
BY GEORGE COLMAN, ESQ.
REMARKS.
THIS Play is an early production of the most successful dramatic writer of the age who though often attacked
by those critical paupers,
Who snatch the poet's wreath with envious claws,
And hiss contempt for merited applause;
has neutralised their venom by the universal sanction of his country, and the superior vigour and brilliancy of his
writings.-Under the inspiration of the comic Muse, Mr. Colman has produced a variety of excellent comedies,
farces, &c. that will never be excelled in the main requisites of dramatic effect and sterling humour.
The three-act comedy before us is well supported throughout;-the whimsicality of Sir David Dunder, the efforts
of the lovers, the curiosity of Peery, the wary cunning of Tiptoe, and the general effect of a clever dispersion of
pun and laughable situation, are fair claims to frequent representation.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
HAYMARKET.                                    HAYMARKET.
SIR DAVID DUNDER....... Mr. Bannister,jun. ROUNDFEE,.................. Mr. Bannister
RANDOM,................. Mr. Palmer.        QUIRK.-.....Mr. Moss.
SCRUPLE,.Mr. Williamson.
OLD RANDOM,............ Mr. Aickin.     LADY DUNDER,................s.   Webb.
CARNEY,..........Mr. Barret.    HARRIET..........                      Mrs. Kemble.
TIPTOE,............      Mr. R. Palmer.    KITTY.....................Mrs. Prideaulx.
PAUL PEERY,.............Mr. Usher.       I MRS. PEERY,.................Mrs. Love.
Passengers, French and English Waiter, Bailiff, Servants, &c.
ScENE.-Partly at Dover, and partly at Sir David Dunder's, near Dover.
ACT I.                      are, you only waddle about a little bit, and then
stand still till you are pulled again.
SCENE I.-Anti-Room in an Inn.               Paul P. Pr'ythee, wife, be quiet-You know,
PA    PEERY discovered, in a chair, asleep; barI was always famous for giving satisfaction.
AL PEERY discoered, in a chair, asleep; bar-   Mrs. P. Were you! I wish I could find it
bell ringing violently              out.
Enter MRaS. PEERY.                   Paul P. But what's the matter?
2Irs. P. Packets are the  matter-diligences
Mrs. P. Why, Paul! why, husband!              are the matter.  Sea and land-cargoes and carPaul P. Eh! What! [Waking.]                   riages.  Four sea-sick gentlemen, from  Calais;
~Mrs. P. For shame! for shame, Mr. Peery! and four ladies just stept out of the mail coach,
The bar-bell has been ringing this half hour; and from Canterbury.-The men, I believe, are mahere you sleep like the rusty clapper of it; and king inquiries for the machine to London.
srqrce stir when you are pulled-and when you    Paul P. Are they'  Then show'em all inw
92




SCENE II.]                   WAYS AND MEANS.                                        93
one room. I pity the poor gentlemen.-Nothing    I Man. Oh! certainly, hostess: travellers, you
is so dreadful as sea sickness-so put'em all know —if you'll give me leave, Ma'am.
together-and they'll only be sick of one another,   I Worn. Sir, you are very obliging.
you know.                       [Bell rings.                   [The men hand the women.
Enter WAITER.                   Mrs. P. Here, William, wait on the company.
Wait. Two gentlemen in a post-chaise, with a   F. Pass. Ah! c'est drole! pair by pair! two
servant, from London, Sir.   [Exit WAITER. by two!
Mrs. P. Run, Mr. Peery!                        [Exeunt MEN, handing out the WOMEN.
Paul P. Ay, ay-You take care of the stage-   Mrs. P. Show'em into Noah's ark, William,
6oaches, and let me alone for the post-chaise d'ye hear t [Bell rings.] Coming! Here, John!
gentry.-Here, Lewis, John, William! Show a Lewis! coming!                         [Exit.
room, here, to the gentlemen, there!
[Exit, bawling.      SCENE II. —A Room in the Inn.
Enter WAITER, showing in one FRENCH and  Enter PAUL PEERY, showing in RANDOM and
three ENGLISH PASSENGERS, from the Packet.  SCRUPLE.
Wait. Walk in, gentlemen.                    Paul P. This way, your honours; this way!
Mrs. P. Walk in, gentlemen, if you please. one step at the door, if you please.
Welcome to England! Welcome to Dover, gen-   Rand. Step on, Sir, if you please-pay the
tlemen!                                     post-boy, and send in the servant; [PEERY go1 Pass. So-just six o'clock in the morning- ing,] and, harkye, landlord! what's the name of
becalmed at sea-not a wink all night-the devil your house I
take this packet, say I. I'm rumbled, and tum-   Paul P. The Ship, your honour.  The oldest
bled, and jumbled-                           and best established house in the town, Sir.
Mrs. P.- I'm  extremely sorry for it, Sir! —    Rand. Very. well; then give us a better room,
but-                                         and get us some breakfast.
F. Pass. Now, begar, it do me goot.          Paul P. It shall be done, Sir.  I suppose,
Mrs. P. I'm vastly happy to hear it-do you gentlemen, you mean to cross to Calais.
choose any refreshment, Sir?                  Scru. Pshaw!
F. Pass. Vous avez raison-I never vas so   Paul P. You intend to take. water, gentlerefresh in all my life.                      men'!
Mlirs,,P. I am very glad, indeed, Sir!      Rand. No, Sir, but we intend to take your
2 Pass. I'm damned sick.                   wine. We may stay here some days, perhaps.
Mirs. P. I'm very sorry, I assure you, Sir!  Paul P. Thank your honours! every thing
F. Pass. Ma foi, madame have beaucoup de shall be had to your satisfaction; and as far as a
politesse!                                  cellar and larder can go, I think I-vastly obliged
2 Pass. Get me a glass of brandy-ti tol, lol-  to your honours! Here, Lewis, William, breakI feel confounded qualmish, but tol, lol, lol, la-I fast for two in the Lion, there.  [Exit.
don't like to own a sea-sickness —and-' Britons   Rand. Well said, my thorough, clumsy, talkaever rule the waves."                       tive innkeeper!-and now, my dear Scruple, after
[Singing, and smothering his uneasiness. our night's journey, welcome to Dover. Here
F'. Pass. Briton rule de vave! I tink de vave we are, you see-not with the old, stale intention
rule you, ma foi, ha, ha!  of taking a voyage to the continent; but a voyage
2 Pass. Right, Mounseer! in the present case, to the island of Love.
I grant you. Packet sailing-mere plain water   Scru. But suppose we should find neither wind
agrees best with your folks: but, when there is nor tide in our favour?
occasion to mix a little of our British spirit with   Rand. Why then we shall be love bound here
it, why, it's always too much for a French a little, that's all. But, hang it, why anticipate
stomach. Now that's the time when an English- evils. If we are to be unlucky, the less we think
man never feels qualmish at all.             of it the better-confound all thinking, say I.
Enter WAiTER, sho~wing in four WOMEN.        Scru. Confound thinking, Mr. Random! I'm
sure its high time to think-and that very seriMrs. P. Servant, ladies.                   ously.
1 Worn. Lard! this mail coach is the worst   Rand. Hey-day!  Moralizing!  " Confound
conveyance in the world. It squeezes four peo- thinking, Mr. Random!" Yes, Sir, confound
ple together, like two double letters.       thinking:-I'm  sure thinking would confound
Mrs. P. Disagreeable to be sure, Ma'am!   us; and most confoundedly too, Mr. Scruple, at
1 Man. And that infernal packet!         present
Mrs.:P. Nothing can be half so bad, Sir!    Scru. Yet one can't help having one's doubts.
2 Man. But then the cabin-                   Rand. Poh! pr'ythee don't doubt at al —..irs. P. Except the cabin, your honour!   doubting is mean and mechanical; and never
2 Wom. And riding backward in a coach-  entered the head or heart of a gentleman. Why,
augh!                                        now, if you observe from our own daily experilMIrs. P. I can't conceive any thing so shock- ence, the people that doubted most were either
ing, Ma'am!                                 our taylors, or tavern-keepers, or shoemakers; or
F. Pass. Voila la politesse encore!        some such pitiful puppies —Zounds, man, don't
Mrs. P. Beg pardon, ladies and gentlemen.-  be faint-hearted now! we shall never win our fair
But our house is so full at present, we have but ladies, at this rate-besides, haven't we all the
one room to spare; the cloth is laid in it for break- reasonable hopes in the world?
fast, and it will be ready directly-hope you will   Scru. Why we are sure of their good wished.
excuse the-                                  I believe.




94                          WAYS AND MEANS.                                    [ACT I.
Rand. Certainly-and as to any trifling ob- gaged for the expedition, to avoid inquiries-to
stacles, such as father and mother, or so —chance wait on us both-dress us both-and fly on Dotm
must direct us.                              our errands, like a shuttlecock between two batScru. But may not those trifling obstacles you tledores?
mention-                                       Rand. Yes, or like another Atlas, with all our
Rand. Pshaw! doubting again! why you are world upon his shoulders. Only look at him,
more of a Mandarin, on a chimney-piece, than a Scruple!
man-there's no touching you but your head
begins shaking. Consider, we attacked'em  at    Enter TIPTOE, with a small portmanteau.
Bath, where they were three weeks. ago, on a
visit to a female friend, without impertinent re-   Tip. Gentlemen, shall I put down the lug
lations about'em to give'em advice-and made, gage?
I think, no inconsiderable,progress.          Scru. Ay, on this table
Scru. Granted; but they were then suddenly    Tip. [Putting it down.], Whew! It's enough
called home to their father's, the baronet's, near to make a man faint to look at it.
Dover, here; who hinted, in his letter, at no very   Rand. Why, you scoundrel, it's all you have
distant match for both of'em.               to bring in; and we have contrived, on purpose to
Rand. 0 never fear, if the girls are — averse to make it easy, to put both our clothes in one portit; and they, at our parting, like simple -damsels manteau.
in romance, bewailed their.cruel fate, while we,   Tip. That's the very reason I complain, Sir,
like true knights errant, promised.to rescue them  You don't know how fatiguing it is to carry
from confinement.. But you hadI more- oppor- double.
tunities with your flame than I: why did not you   Rand. A shrewd fellow this. He may be of
marry her at once?                           use to us. And now we have to inquire, pray,
Scru. Because I loved her.                Sir, what may your name be?
Rand. Well, that's some reason too-you    Tip. Tiptoe-Tiptoe, gentlemen, at your serwould have made a damned unfashionable figure, vice. I have seen better days, no offence to your
I confess.                                  honours-bonest Tiptoe once stood above the
Scru. You mistake me; I had too much honour world; but now-all the world stands upon Tipto impose on my Harriet's amiable simplicity, and toe.
have the utmost detestation for marrying merely   Scru. And pray, Sir, what were you, forto make a fortune. In these interested cases, if merly?
we keep up appearances, after marriage, the wife    Tip. A decent young man, Sir-that could
becomes a clog and incumbrance; if we throw off dress wigs, write a running-hand, and preferred
the mask, we are making a worthy woman, per- a sober, steady family. I shaved my old master,
haps, miserable, who has afforded the only means bottled off his wine, copied his papers, and kept
of making her husband easy.                  the key of his cabinet and cellar; in short, Sir, I
Rand. Mighty romantic, truly! and charming was his prime minister.
policy for a fillow without a guinea!         Scru. How came you to leave him, Sir?
ScrT. My policy was: chosen from  the pro-   Tip. Ruined by party, Sir; —some of his pa-verb, Random! I thought honesty the best. 1 pers were missing, and as I kept the key-Iconfessed to her my embarrassed circumstances.    Rand. Began to be suspected-eh! honest
Rand. Charming!                           Tiptoe?
Scru. Told her I had nothing to boast of but   Tip. Why, I can't tell how it was, Sir; but
my family; whom my imprudence had disobliged. the cabinet was against me-the whole house
Rand. Excellent!                          opposed me-and poor Tiptoe, like other great
Scr m. And thus, by candidly acknowledging menmyself unworthy her. affections, I undesignedly,   Rand. Was turned out, I take it?
insured them.                                  Tip. Oh, fie! no, Sir; I resigned. I then
Rand. Pugh! this may do well enough for the fairly advertised my abilities-" wants a place-.grave, sentimental, elder sister; but Kitty's the can turn his hand to every thing:"-you, gengirl for my taste-young, wild, frank, and ready tlemen, bid most for me-here I am, and I hope,
to run into my arms, without the trouble of dying you'll have no cause to complain of my qualificaor sighing. Her mind full of fun, her eyes full tions.,of fire, her head full of novels, and her heart full   Scru. He'll make no bad ambassador for us,
of love-ay, and her pocket full of money, my at least, Random, and now to breakfast, and our
boy!                                         plan of operations. If they fail-farewell, dear,
Scra. Well, we must now find means to in- dear little England! and yet I am wedded to
troduce ourselves to the family; I dread encoun- theetering the old folks too;. people in the country,   Rand. Like modern husbands to their wives
here, are apt to be suspicious; they ask queer Scruple: it's almost impossible to be seen in one
Questions sometimes.                         another's company any longer.
Rand. Oh! the mere effect of their situation;          [E xeunt RANDOM and SCRUPLE..
~where they get more health than polish.       Tip. Very fine company I seem to have got
Scru. And yet old country families-       into-hired in one instant, by two men, I had not
Rand. Are like old country bacon-damned heard of three moments; set out on a journey at,fat and very rusty, Scruple. But come, let's to four in the morning, and it had scarce struck five,
breakfast, and settle our plan.over a cup of coffee. when I began to suspect they were all sixes and
But where the devil's our scoundrel  we only sevens.
hired him overnight, and have scarce set our eyes
yO him since.  Enter a FRENCH WAITER.
"m.n him since.
Scru. What, our joint lacquey? that we en- Well, friend!




sCEN-Im.]                   WAYS AND MEANS.                                         95
F.  Wait. Serviteur, monsieur.            room suits their honours?  I should be sorry to
Tip. Friend! oh Lord i no!-It's the enemy. give any offence. I have given'em a room I give
-French waiters creep into shabby Dover inns, to the best of company.
like French footmen into large London families.   Tip. Oh, excellent! make no apologies: your
French footmen'  more shame for their employ- room is as good as your company, Master Peery.
ers! who starve their own poor countrymen, to   Rand. [Without.] Damn your house!-Here!
feed a set of skinny scoundrels. whose looks give Tiptoe! Tiptoe! you scoundrel!
-the lie to their living, and prove their master's   Tip. Coming directly, Sir.-You are right;
head in much nicer order than his heart. What, you were always famous for giving satisfaction.
you come to carry up the portmanteau, I sup-   Rand. Tiptoe!
pose.                         Paul P. Hark! is it your master?
F. Wait. Oui,- de portmanteau, dat belong  -Tip. Faith, 1 do not know. It's either his'to-                                         honour in gray, or the worthy gentleman in
Tip. Well, take it [Puts it on his shoulder.] green.-Good bye, Master Peery.
and take care of it too, monsieur, d'ye mind;   Rand. Tiptoe!
none of your old tricks of running away.       Tip. Coming, Sir.                  [Exit.
F/  Wait. Never you fear; laissez moi faire.   Paul P. Why, what the devil can these mer-' O! de roast oeefof Old England."          chants do at Dover?  A bit of a smuggling busi[Exit, singing. ness, perhaps. They must be rich fellows, by
Tip. There go all the worldly goods of my the servant's being so saucy-and, then they call
two poor masters; and here comes our inquisitive about'em, and abuse the house so kindly!-Oh!
puppy of a landlord. Deuce take the fellow! he your abusive fellows are the best customers in the
asked me more questions at the bar of the inn, world; for none pay so well at an inn as those
than if I had been brought t the bar of the Old who are always damning the waiters for ill treatBailey.                                      ment.                             [Bar-bell.
Enter PEERY.                                Enter WAITER.
Paul P. Ahl my honest friend-sweet, honest:Wait. Sir David Dunder, of Dunder Hall,
Mr. Tiptoe, your servant!                    Sir, has had business in the town before breakTip. lAside.] How did he pick up my name, fast, and stept in, whilst his horses put to, to go
now?                                        back.                                [Exit.
Paul P. I hope t'he two worthy gentlemen, I   Paul P. Odds my life! a rich man, a good
have shown above stairs, have every thing to natured gentleman, and lives but a mile off: the
their satisfaction? Though I say it, that should only great man, I know, whose situation never
not say it, Paul Peery, of the Ship, was ever keeps me at a great distance. An odd fellow,
famous for giving satisfaction. Which of the too; and takes more money from my house than
two do you serve, my friend?                a tax gatherer; I can never keep a guest for his
Tip. Umph! serve! —why-a-               cursed kind invitations.-But he pays well while
Paul P. His honour in gray 1 or-           he stays. So, William! wife! hostler! rub down
Tip. Ay.                                  the horses, and show up Sir David Dunder.
Paul P. Or the worthy gentleman in green?                                        [Exit.
Tip. Yes.                                 PEERY returns, attending SR DAVID talking as
Paul P. Umph:! Two sweet gentlemen, in-                     endingS
deed; and happy is one of'em in a servant. You
seem to give double the attendance of an ordinary    Sr D. Pooh, Paul, you're a blockhead-there's
footman.                                     two of'em you tell me?
Tip. Why, though I say it, that shouldn't say    Paul P. Worth a plum a piece, Sir David.
t —Tim Tiptoe was ever famous for giving satis-   Sir D. Plums! figs!-How's your wife, Paul,
tfaction:.'           t[1fAlimicking PEERY. eh?
Padt P. A close fellow! Well, I wish'em    Paul P. She's prettysuccess with all my heart, Mr. Tiptoe. You    Sir D. Be quiet-I know  she is.  And so
have lived with'em a long while, I imagine?  these two merchants are as rich asTip. Why, I have tived with lem long enough,   Paul P. Any thing, your honour.
for that matter, Mr. Peery.                    Sir D. Damned good simile-very new too.
Paul P. They are of property, no doubt?    Have they taken care of the horses?
Tip. Of such property, Master Peery-it's im-   Paul P. They're going topossible to describe it. 1                     Sir D. Be quiet-I know  it-Merchants!
Paul P. Indeed! and where may their pro- hazard! Vessels are lottery tickets —two blanks
perty lie at this time.?                     to a prize.
Tip. I believe all their property lies on the sea   Paul P. Right, your honour; and the seacoast, at this time.                           Sir D. Is the worst wheel in the world for
Paul P. Oh, oh'! the sea  eoast! What, in'em, Paul; for when once they stick at the bot-.ships, I imagine?  tom, I would not give a farthing for the chance
~ Tip. Yes; it's all in the ship.          of their coming up. Where do they come from?
Paul P. So, so! merchants'! rich rogues, I'll   Paul P. London-London  merchants; and
lay my life. lAside.] Ah! warm, warm! Good theymen, Mr. Tiptoe, trusted by every body, I war-   Sir D. I know it, you blockhead-are respect
rant.                                        ed all over the world. London merchants, Paul,
Tip. Trusted for a great while too, I promise are like London porter; a little heavy or so, someyou.                                        times; but stout, stiff, heady, old hogsheadd, that
Paul P. T hope they find every thing to their keep up the vigour of a strong English constitufiking. —Must be civil here. [Aside.] I hope the tion. Where are they going?




96                          WAYS AND MEANS.                                     [ACTr 1
Paul P. I can't tell, Sir David; but if you    Sir D. Hey! my wife! my wife! Why, yes, I
wish for any intelligence-                   think so. She is not yours, is she?
Sir' D. You can't give it me. Tell'em I wish   Scru. Oh! you'll pardon us, Sir; only we have
to be introduced, d'ye hear t Sir David Dunder, heard the name of Sir David Dunder, in this
Dunder Hall-you know the form-Bart.; bloody country, before.
hand, all that-wishes to-Who  have we   Sir D. Like enough; the Dunders are pretty
here?                                       well known, I believe, every where.
Paul P. The very men, Sir David; coming   Rand. Certainly; indeed, you were the last
this way too.                                person in our mouths, Sir David.
Sir D. Then do you get out on't.             Sir D. Pop'd in apropos, eh! Never knew it
Paul P. So! two more guests going by his otherwise. Just like Simon Spungy, our curate;
cursed invitations.             [Aside; exit. never knocks but at dinner, and always comes in
Sir D. [Looking out.] Gad! they are youngish with the cloth. But we are notorious for hospimen for merchants.  WVell, why the worse? tality to strangers of your stamp; and if you can
They may be clever fellows, for all that. If so, spare a day or two at Dunder Hall-all in the
the younger the better; and a man must be clever family way, you know,-Sir David, that's meindeed, when his enemies can throw nothing but Lady and two misses-two fine young women,
his youth in his teeth.                      upon my soul, as any in Kent-tall as hop-poles
Enter RANDOM and SCRUPLE.            -will be happy to-eh 
Scru. Sir, you're particularly kind; butRand. Nay, pr'ythee, Scruple, one turn on the   Rand. We'll attend you with pleasure, Sir
quay, and-who is. he? Egad, the same queer David!
fellow we observed just now  under the win-   Sir D. Will you? that's right. It's close by;
dow.                                         quite convenient. And if necessity obliges you
Scru. Right, giving orders to his coachman.   tocome to the coast here-why,'tis but a mile.Sir D. Gentlemen, your servant.            All in my power. I know your business, and
Both. Sir, your very obedient!            we'll have the horses directly. We shall be at
Sir D. My landlord tells me-honest Paul home time enough for a late breakfast. Here —
here-You've just left London. Good journey, I eh! I'll step to coachy myself; but don't, don't
hope. Our town of Dover is but an odd, whim- abuse honest Paul-meant no harm, upon my
sical, sort of a-eh!-and, after the city, you think soul —mere inuendo-a slight sketch, but no proit a damned dirty, dingy, kind of a-umph 2   fession specified. Paul is like other inn-keepers,
Scru. Why, Sir, at'present, we can't say we blunders and talks: a damned deal of the bull and
are tired of the exchange.                   mouth about him; but no more meaning than a
S,;r D. The exchange! O, oh! Paul's right-  split crow, or a spread eagle, egad!  [Exit.
[Aside.] I know it.-The Exchange, as you say,   Rand. Give me your hand, my boy! the day's
for people in your situation, is much pleasanter.  our own; the luckiest hit in the world!
Scru. Sir! Our situation!                   Scru. Do you think so?
Sir D. Be quiet; my host has let me into your   Rand. Think so! Zounds, what's the matter
characters.                                  with you? Isn't the very man we have been folRand. The devil he has! And how should he lowing, the first man we have met? Hasn't he
know any thing of-?                         thrown open his doors to us, when we only hoped
Sir D. Nay, don't be angry; no harm: mere to get in at his window? Isn't he our father-ininuendo-didn't tell plump-talked of your deal- law that is to be, and hasn't he given us an inings.                                        vitation?
Scru. Dealings!.                             cru. Granted: and what then?
Rand. Why, zounds! the scoundrel has not   Rand. What then? Why then, instead of represumed to-                                 connoitring the whole day round his wall, we
Sir D. Must be rich-damned crusty. [Aside.] have nothing to do but to walk in, whisk away
-You're right, though can't be too cautious. I with the girls, and be married immediately.
would not wish to pry. Mean nothing but re-   Scru. And is this to be our return, Mr. Ranspect, upon my soul. How many clerks do you dom, for Sir David's kindness 1
keep?                                         Rand. Why, how can you make a better, than
Both. Clerks!                              by giving such a strong proof of your attachment
Sir D. Can't do without them, you know. to his family?
Fine folks though, all you, eh  Props of the    Scru. For shame, Random! basely endeavour
public-bulwarks of Britain. Always brought to injure a man, whose hospitality has brought
forward as an example to the world. Been in you under his roof! No, no; our reconnoitring
the stocks lately, gentlemen'               plan indeed-weak as you may think it, I should
Scru. Hell, and the devil!                prefer going to his wall, as you say, I assure you.
Sir D  That's right, don't tell. I like you the   Rand. Very likely; the weakest always go
better.  You see what I know of you, and-    there. Remember, however, I scorn a mean aoRand. Sir, we suspect what you imagine-  tion, as much as any man; but, if a good marriage
and                                          is the readiest road to the reconciliation with our
Sir D. I know it. You wonder to see me so friends, who can, if they choose, make us easy-I
devilish distant. I live but a mile off-Lady  see no great injury offered to Sir David, nor his
Dunder-a sweet, fine, fat woman-my wife, by family.
Ihe bye-will be happy to entertain gentlemen    Scru. Why, in that case, to be sureof-                                            Rand. Ay, ay, no more of your cases now,
Rancd. How! Lady Dunder your wife?         good doctor; but follow my prescriptions, I enS'-ru. Is 1 edy Pmnder your wife, Sir?   treat you. Besides, my father is expected from
rBoth in haste. the South of France every day. He may arrive




SCENE i.].              WAYS AND MEANS.                                         97
before we have brought matters to bear; and fa- moderate man, to settle a proper premium between
thers are apt to spoil sport, you know.      the parties? Why I, to be sure.
Enterareapttosp TI spTOu.  Round. And is there a worse security in the
Enter TIPTOE.                 world than your fellows of fashion?  Your snug
Tip. The old gentleman, Sir, with the old man of business, when he puts his name to a note
coach, is inquiring for you in the court-yard.  is always punctual in his payment; or ese we
Scru. O, Sir David!  allons  follow us, Sirrah. lock him in limbo-safe in the house of bondage.
We haven't a moment to spare.               Now, your man of fashion always gets safe in
Rand. That's right, Scruple! stick close; for another house; and if he can't duly pay, why he
he seems so whimsical an old fellow, that he may gets duly elected, and I have a false return for my
get into his carriage, drive off, and forget he has money.
ever given us an invitation. Come along, Tip-   Quirk. That's not the case here, t you know.
toe! quick, quick, you scoundrel!  [Exeunt. Round. No, but it's as bad. A pretty wildTip. Quick! Zounds! I'm almost dead. All goose chace we have had here! Rammed into a
night, bumping down to Dover, on a ragged, raw- post chaise, with more expense than speed; gapboned, post-horse, with a brace of pistols at my ing at hops, through a cursed small-beer country
knees; and as soon as we arrive, clapt up behind and after two youngsters, who by this time, I
a queer, country coach, with a couple of leather take it, have hopped over to Calais. That's anostraps in my hand, to be rattled back again! Ah, ther genteel way of chousing an honest creditor.
Tiptoe! Tiptoe! You must get into a sober family The coast of France is edged with English inagain, I see. My running-hand will be all I have solvents. Calais is a King's-bench, and Boulogne
left for it at last; for I shall be run off my feet, 1 little more than a Marshalsea. A parcel of prodifind, in a fortnight.                [E it. gal, webfooted, spendthrifts, come here, and take
water like ducks.
ACT II.                      Quirk. Yes, but they are lame ducks.
Round. While we, who have hatched'em like
SCENE I.-A  Room in the Ship at Dover.   hens, in the shell of their dissipation, stand cluck- Enter ROUNDFEE and QUIRK.         ing complaints on the shore, without daring to
follow.
Round. Why, I told you so all along; but you    Quirk. Come, come, accidents will happen
have no more head than a smooth shilling.    sometimes.
Quirk.  No, but I have a mouth, if you would   Round. And who brought this accident about,
let me open it.                              but the dapper Mr. Quirk? with your plaguy
Round. Yes, and then you'd shut it again; politic pate! a thick Simmond's-inn skull, only fit
just as you do at my dinners; where you have to peep through a pillory. You must be sending
been opening and shutting it, any time these ten me your two, fine, St. James' gentlemen. Damme,
years.                                       there's more poor rogues, I believe, in that parish
Quirk. What! and haven't I deserv'd  it? than in St. Giles'! all in a gang too:-knaves of
haven't I filled more parchments for you, than clubs every one of them-and there my two
stomachs; more skins than bellies; and closed youngsters coaxed me over with a pretty refreshmany an account before I could close my orifice; ing story of friends in the country, and rich old
haven't I given you a character in the courts, fathers with fine crazy constitutions; charming
good humouredly establishing your reputation, churchyard coughs, and pretty touches of the
before I regarded my own? Haven't I sworn for rheumatism; sweet bile, and delightful bad livers!
you, and roundly too, RM/r. Roundfee?        It put one in fine spirits to hear them talk; and
Round. Well, well, I always allowed you had you, you booby, to back it!
a good swallow.                                Quirk. Why, I had it from the best authority.
Quirk. Wasn't I, when you were tottering, However, young Random's father is abroad for
friend enough to take out a commission of bank- his health; and every body says in a fine, fair way
ruptcy against you? and didn't I kindly make of dying; and then you'll be in a fair way of remyself a cruel creditor, and insist upon receiving covery.  The report is current, my old lad.
three parts of your effects?                  Round. Yes, and the son got current cash for
Round. And haven't I always acknowledged it; and now he must go abroad too; with a cursed
my ruin with gratitude?                     consumptive pocket, I warrant: and that other
Quirk. No, nor any thing else. I have dan- oily-tongued fellow, Mr. Scruple.
gled after half the heirs in town, without an ac-   Quirk. But why call me in question? Could
knowledgment; making myself the imaginary not you see for yourself? Didn't they ask you to.
friend of their imaginary wants, merely to intro- dine with'em; and wer'n't you foolish enough to
duce'em to you, as a man of honour and secrecy. drink and grow open-hearted 2 and then when
Round. Ay, if required.                    Random told you he'd take you to Shooter's Hill
Quirk. Granted; it says so in the advertise- in his phaetonment-and did not they come to you, when, if   Round. Psha! no such thing.
it was not for me, they would have been accom-   Quirk. And introduce you to Peggy Pattens,.
modated at a genteel end of the town'? Instead who said you had fine eyes, if you did not squint,
of which, I trudged'em through the Strand, and a good walk, if you did not stooptowards the Bar, all winter long, with their boots   Round. Hush!
and high collars, for fear of sore throats, to chew    Quirk., Didn't you chuckle, and whisper he
your tough chops, in the back parlour. Then was an honest fellow.? and though I kept winkey'd clap you on the back, call you by your ing, and pulling your sleeve, did not you take
hristian name, tell damned lies, and swear you notes which were due the day they set off, and
were an honest fellow, to make you come down give a draft for the three thousand?
with the ready. And who was the disinterested,   Round. Zounds, it'senough to drive one mad
Vo. [... N         9




98:                         WAYS AND MEANS.                                    [ACT n.
to think on't! You got the warrant backed by tleman: his figure, to ne sure, wasn't so cleverly
the Sheriff of Canterbury?                  cut out for the character. A fat fubsy phiz, sunk
Quirk. Yes, by the Sub, and all may be re- between a couple of round shoulders, and, damme,
paired at last. We have traced'em truly to this he croaked like a toad in a hole. What do you
house, and if the tide hasn't served, we may nab say to a hop in the garden, eh. Look at the lawn.'em yet. Come along, old Round. We'll pump   Rand. Why, at present, Sir Davidthe waiters, sound our host, and success, no doubt,   Sir D. I know it-Rather not-That's right:
will crown our inquiries. Come along!       no nonsense: I hate excuses. Looks like rain:
[Exeunt. cursed cloudy; and all that. No ceremony here.
Scru. A little rest after a journey isSCENE II.-An Apartment in Dunder Hall.   Sir D. Right —By the bye, talking of that,
A Glass Door in the back scene, with a view  after a journey, I met with Kit-D'ye know Kit
into the Gardens.                          Skurry.
SIR  DAVID, LADY  DUNDER, RANDOM, and    Rand. Never heard of him.
SCRUPLE, discovered at the finish of breakfast.    Scr. Nor I.
Sir D. An odd, harum-scarum, absent, flighty
Rand. We are only mortified, Sir David, as fish. Old friend of our's; but a damned quiz:
we have not had the pleasure of seeing the young got acquainted in the queerest way in the world.
ladies, that we are deprived of their company at   Lady. I've heard Sir David mentionbreakfast.                                     Sir D. Be quiet. Coming from  Paul's one
Sir D. Pshaw! Nonsense! mustn't mind that night, where I picked you up in an odd sort of a
-t'other cup-Eh? [ To RANDOM.] Always the strange stylecase with my girls-Lump o' sugar? —[ To ScRu-   Scru. Why it was ratherPhFE.                                          Sir D. Hush! Got into my coach-all alone,
Scru. Not any.                            dull as hell, dark as the devil: so, to amuse myLady. They are taking their constant morn- self, fell fast asleep.
ing's round, gentlemen. They always breakfast   Rand. Entertaining, indeed! 
before the rest of the family; and are generally   Sir D. Very-I know it. When the carriage
breathing the air of the shrubbery, while Sir came to the hill, rubbed my eyes to wake, out of
David and I are sipping our tea and chocolate.   one corner, and saw Skurry stuck up in the other.
Sir D. Be quiet: I know it. Picking posies, I thought coachy had crammed in a corpse.
gathering daisies and daffy-down-dillies. Pretty    Rand. It looked rather suspicious.
pastoral girls, though, I assure you: very like   Sir D. Took him fobr dead, as I hope to live.
mamma.                                         Rand. How did you behave?
Lady. Oh, Sir David.                         Sir D. Sat still: frightened out of my wits, till
Sir D. Hush! The very picture of my dear I got home; and John came out with a candle?
Lady Dunder. Not so plump, perhaps; but all   Scru. And how did he explain 1
in good time —Bit more muffin?                Sir D. Easy enough. Got drunk upon busiScru. The young ladies, Sir David, are happy ness; going to town; popped into my carriage for
in their resemblance of so accomplished a mother. the mail-coach, to secure a good place before the
Sir D. Yes; like as three peas. My lady, in- rest of the passengers; and as the hostler crossed
deed, has more of the marrow-fat.           the yard in the dark, bid him shut the door, and
[All rise, as having done breakfast. be damned to him. Made us monstrous merry,
Lady. Why people do flatter, I confess. None didn't it, love 2
of our neighbours but are pretty partial to the   Lady. Extremely.
Dunders. Not an assembly round, but my girls   Sir D. Yes, my lady laughed till she was ready
are first called out to move in a minuet; and al- to-Go to the farm, eh 1 Peep at the pigs?
ways stand the head couples in a country dance.    Lady. Lard, Sir David, how you tease genRand. We make no doubt, Madam.  The tlemen to walk, who have scarcely recovered from
charms which your ladyship's daughters must in- the rattle of the road: your friends have no relish
herit-                                      for pigs now; besides, it's so late, we shall hardly
Sir D. Be quiet.-Asked every where, I pro- have time to dress for dinner.
mise you. Quite the delight of Dover-Acted all   Sir D. Eh! gad, that's true. No-dinner withthe tragedy parts too, at my friend thing-em-bob's. out dressing.-Wont walk.-Well, do as you
Harriet got great applause, upon my soul: but like: I leave you here with my dear Lady Dun-.Kitty was so cursed comical! did Desdemona one der. [To Lady D.]  Talk to'em, deary, do;
night; gets killed, you know, by a bolster.  give'em a sketch of the county. Some Dover'
Scru. An agreeable amusement! Gentlemen's scandal, and Canterbury tales quite in your way,
play-houses are much to be wished for.      lovee. She knows all about you.
Sir D. Fine fun, isn't it?  We had a touch    Scru. Indeed!
of dramatics once ourselves, at the hall here-    Sir D. Yes, I told all, just as I had it from
gutted a kitchen, and filled it with fly-flaps-All Paul. Make her prattle to you, do you hear?
gentlemen players, you know.                 Devilish deal of solid sense about her, 1 assure
Rand. A kitchen! And how did your players you.
oerform n'                                     Rand. That we are convinced of.
Sir D. Players! Pokers! Empty as pots; and    Sir D. I'll just take a turn, and abuse my peoas flat as the dresser.                      ple; see what's going on within and withoutLady. Oh, fie, Sir David! You know, Sir house and garden; farm and fire-side: look at the
Simon Squab came from London on purpose; and plate and the pantry: gape at the geese, and the
every body said his Romeo was charming.      ducks, and the dogs, and the hogs, and the logs.
Sir D. Eh! gad, that's true: forgot Squab. Must go-damned sorry: must mind my little
True, deary;-fine,-very fine, indeed, for a gen- cutter of cabbages; an idle, eating, cheating dog;




SCENE II.]                  WAYS AND MEAN S.                                       99
and would sooner be damned than dig. He's of    Scru. I'll take the tenderest care of her, be asno more use in the garden than Adam: for he sured, Madam.
steals every apple he can find, and wont even        [Exit SCRUPLE with HARRIET through,
take the pains of grafting a'gooseberry bush.            the glass door.
[Exit.   Rand. If your ladyship would favour us with
Scru. I hope we don't detain your ladyship a little hartshorn-'
from walkingaQ  Lady. Lard! that I should be so stupid as to
Lady. By no means: Sir David's horse-walks leave my salts on the dressing-table. I'll run for
have given me a dislike to so fatiguing an exer- them  myself in a minute. Sit still, Kitty, my
cise. I drive round the grounds in a whiskey, dear; a little of Dalmahoy's pungent will relieve
now and then-or a canter on a poney-         you presently, I warrant.             [Exit.
Rand. But, while Sir David is at his farm,   Rand. And now, my dear Kitty'! 
your ladyship has probably your menagerie to   Kitty: [Rising.] Hush, hush! lud! you have
attend. Is your ladyship fond of birds in that frighted me out of ny wits: I hav;e hardly breathstyle'!                                      to ask you a question. Where' did you come
Lady. Oh, no, I prefer a little canary in my from' - Who brought you here'? How long do
closet, to all the birds of the air in England.  you stay! And who do you go away with?
Scru. No getting rid of her, I see-[Aside.] I   Rand. I came from London; brought here by
wonder your ladyship has given up walking too; your father; stay till to-night; and go away with
the air of this garden is delightful.        you, my angel.-So much for question and anRand. Charming! And this lawn before the swer.
house here.                                    Kitty. With me! you might' have asked my
[ Walking up to the glass door with SCRUPLE. consent first, I think.
Rand. Nay, nay, we have no time for forms
Enter KITTY, running in with a bundle of.flow- now. Your mother will be back'instantly, and:
ers, HARRIE'r following.          we may want opportunities: your father knows
nothing of me nor my friend;' but picked us up at
Kitty. Oh! mamma, mamma! see what a big the inn with a common invitation: but delays
bundle of flowers I have got.                might produce some cross accident to make our
Lady. Hush, Kitty-Consider!               designs known, and defeat our plan. The family
Kitty. Eh! what, company? O lud! Two  retires early, I find: we shall order a post-coach
Jemmies, I vow. Do, mamma, introduce us.    to the garden wall at eleven. Now, Kitty, if we
Lady. For heaven's sake, girl-Gentlemen, could but find the outside of a certain chamber
give me leave to introduce                   doorKitty. La, mamma, you are so round about al-   Kitty. 0 gemini! you must not venture along
ways.-I'll go and give'em one of my best courte- the gallery. You and Mr. Scruple will be at the
sies.-You'll see now: I'll do it in half the time — farther end of it. All the visitors will sleep there..
The men come from the glass door to the front  Papa and mamma next to you, and Harriet and
of the stage. KITTY'goes up to RANDOM, be- I beyond them. I would not venture out for the
gins courtesying, looks in'his face, -drops the world.
flowers, and screams.]                         Rand. No, but if Scruple and I were to venKitty. Oh!                                 ture.
Rand. Ha! the young lady's taken ill.      IKitty. Oh! it would be to no purpose. We
[Running to her. shall have nothing to do with it: you may creep
Lady.: Mercy on me! Why, girl! why, Kitty! about in the dark as much as you please, we won't
What's the matter with you''-               assist you, I promise you.-We -won't-no —we
[ They put her in a chair. won't even put a chair on the outside of the door,:Kitty.' Nothing, mamma-nothing-but some-'that you may know our room from the others.
thing that                                     Rand. Thanks! thanks! my  dear, sweet,
Rand. Something that was in the flowers, charming, bewitching, little-[Embracing her.]
Madam, I believe;
Kitty.: Yes, yes, —agreat-                         Enter LADY DUNDER, hastily.
Rand. A great wasp. I heard it buz by me, as
you dropt'em.'                                Lady. Here are the salts.
Kitty. Yes, a wasp: it was so. I declare it has   Rand. [Changing his tone, but without letting
so flurried me; seeing what I -so little expected.-  KITTY go.]'That's right, Madam:  lean upon me:
[Looking at RANDOM. walking about will be of infinite service, -I am
Rand. How do you find' yourself now, Ma- certain. 
dam' A little flurried still, I'm afraid.      Lady. You're very good, indeed, Mr. Random.'
Lady. And I; to be without: my smelling-bottle How are you now, Kitty? 
too-Bless me, why, Harriet, you give no more   Kitty; Recovered vastly. Much easier since
assistance than  [SCRUPLE at the beginning  you left us, mamma.-[Quitting RANDOM.]i
of the bustle goes round to HARRIET.]          Lady..Ay, ay, I knew it would be soon over
Har. Excuse me, Madam; but seeing my sister foolish girl, to be in a flutter at such a trifle! but
so suddenly taken ill-                       come, we have troubled Mr. Random too much
Scru. Has quite affected Miss Harriet's spirits. already: we'll take our leaves, and dress for the
One turn ini the air will relieve them. If the day.-To be alarmed at an insect indeed!
young lady will give me leave to attend her into    Kitty. La, mamma, why not'
the garden-                                    Rand. Certainly there's more in it than your
Lady. You're extremely kind, Sir: go, my love ladyship imagines.
— Poor, dear, sympathetic girl! The gentleman   Lady. Well, well; you're very good-Bu.
will assist you.:           ha, ha, ha! Sir David will laugh finelv at'this




100                         WAYS AND MEANS.                                    rACT Ii.
-tottering in a chair-and-you won't forget to I have offended; I shall soon quit a house,
tell it at dinner, I dare say-                Madam, where I find my presence is disagreeKitty. Well, I deserve to be laughed at, I see: able- -                         [Going.
foolish enough, to be sure. Come, mamma-    Har. Unkind! ungenerous man! you, too, who
[ Taking her arm, and looking archly at RAN- read my heart; who see its tenderness, and what
DOM as she goes out.] You won't forget the chair, this struggle costs me: but prudence urges your
I dare say, Mr. Random.                      departure; go then  I cannot, dare not, follow
[Exeunt KITTY and LADY. you: my actions are not at my disposal. Ah! if
Rand. So; this even exceeds my warmest ex- they were, I'd share nty fortunes with you to bel
pectations. If Scruple follows Harriet up closely, happy.
our success is certain: but he is so shilly shally.   Scru. Dear, sweet simplicity! 0, Harriet, forDamn it, if he lets her reflect we are lost. Wo- give my petulance; pardon a passion, whose
men were never born for reflection; and when- warmth consumes all bonds. Yes, yes, I will be
ever they have any, it's generally used to turn all prudent for your sake, Harriet; and yet I must
our schemes topsy turvy.              [Exit. not lose you; but wish and wa:t for happier
times.
SCENE III.-A Garden belonging to Dunder   Har. The times will come, assure yourself.
Hall.                    My father may put off this match.
HARRIET and SCRUPLE.                 Scru. If he should hasten it?
Har. Why then-Nay, nay, you know  my
Scru. Why, Harriet! why torture me with weakness.
these needless objections                      Sc&ru. Then I will be content; you must at
Har. Needless! good heavens! How can I ac- last be mine. [ Taking her hand.] Till then I'll
cept your proposals? the indelicacy, the conse- watch with anxious care about you; still cherish
quences which may follow; the steps, too, your hopes, still curb them at your bidding. Prudence
friend is taking with my younger sister-     shall chasten passion; prudence, which, like this
Scru. My life on't, are guided by honour; and fan, my Harriet, tempers the bosom's heat, but
the emergency, the occasion, every thing conspires never chills it.
in urging us to take advantage of the moment.   Har. Then keep it: [Giving the fan.] keep
The scheme I have proposed is-               it as an emblem of your conduct; and when I
BHar. In your present situation rash, even to claim it, which one day, no doubt, I shall, be it
madness: time too, without so hasty a proceed- from difficulties-removed or yet increasing, or
ing, may produce circumstances in our favour. from whatever cause, when once I take it, acA little delay-                              count me all your own.
Scru. Will occasion, perhaps, an eternal separa'   Scru. My lovely girl! 0 may that daytion: you know my situation'; know that, with   Sir D. [ Without.] Hollo! girls? plague on't,
prudence, (a virtue, which, I confess, I have why, where the deuce-[Enters.] Oh! here you
hitherto neglected,) it may be essentially altered  are, aha! got acquainted already-that's right:
for the better: but the anxieties I shall suffer by he's as pretty a promising sprig of a-what's he
delay; the engagements, which the commands of talking of? somewhat sensible? mentioning me? 
a father may oblige you to subscribe to; all con-   Scru. We were just talking of you, indeed,
vince me, if your regard continues, you will fa- Sir David.
vour my warmest wishes. This very evening,   Sir D. Like enough; what, you've got my
Harriet-                                     young puss in a corner?
Har. Impossible! Press no further, I beseech    Scru. I was explaining to Miss Harriet, Sir.
you. The peace of a family depends on my con-   Sir D. 1 know it; isn't she an apt scholar?
duct. Parents have ties on me, Mr. Scruple, had it all from me; sticks to a point, keeps close
which I should shudder to violate.           to a subject; harkye, Hal, got news for you;
Scru. Absurd! have not they proposed a match lookye, a letter from Lordon.
for you-                                       Har. About me, papa?
Har. A detested one, I own: but a thousand    Sir D. Every tittle.  Full of flames, settleaccidents may prevent its going forward; and, ments, constancy, contracts, peace, and pin-money
till I see the strongest necessity for securing my -made up the match: here it is, [Showing the
own happiness, I dare not risk the happiness of Letter.] as neat a mixture of love and law; noothers, so very, very near to me.            thing but harmony and business; just like a
Scru. Still, still, Harriet, this delay! why take drum: all music and parchment. You'll stay the
pleasure in tormenting me?                  wedding, won't you 1
Har. It is not in my nature: bred up in the    Scru. That I'm  afraid will be out of my
country, I have imbibed notions, which the re- power.
finement of a town education might term roman-   Sir D. Pooh! Pr'ythee,'twont be long; make
tic; for I have preferred happiness to splendour; us monstrous happy: Random and you now, eh!
nor have I blushed to own to you, the affections shall make no noise about it. Just a snug party.
of an honest, generous mind, have much more Only a few friends, a roasted ox, a blind fiddler,
weight with me than the allurements of pomp and and a hop in the hall.
fortune: apprised of these sentiments, tempt me   Scru. May I ask the gentleman's name?
no more, I beg, Sir; nor strive to take advantage    Sir D. Lord Snolts. D'ye know him?
of a partiality, which would be ill-placed on one    Scru. His person only; which is by no means
who would recommend to me so inconsiderate a in his favour: his lordship is somewhat gummy.
behaviour.                         [ Warmly. extremely short too, Sir David.
Scru. Confusion! But I am to blame, Madam;   Sir D. Ha! no great hopes of' his growing
I have relied too much on that partiality, which I neither. My lord will be five-and-forty come
see cannot surmount the slightest obstacles. I see Lammas, I take it.




SCENE IV.]                  WAYS AND MEAN S.                                       101
Scru. Rather an advanced age to begin making    Scru. With the utmost pleasure, believe me,
love.                                        Madam.                        [Presenting it.
Sir D. Right: we sha'n't lose a moment; he    Sir D. Well done, Dangle, egad I Flap awayj
has been making money, however, this long time; Hal. Do you a deal of good.
rich as a Rabbi.                               Har. [Fanning.]  How  refreshing  to  the
Scru. Money, I hear, Sir David, is not the spirits!
only ingredient necessary in matrimony.        Sir D. Yes, so it's a sign. En't it, you?
Sir D. No: what else?                        Scru. Certainly-it is-it is a sign, Sir David.
Scru. The power of Cupid, sometimes.         Sir D. 1 know it. Women can't do without
Sir D. Curse Cupid! he has not a half-penny'em. All their airs and graces depend upon it.
to buy him breeches. A love match won't light The tap, flap, flirt, crack, peep, pat, and a hun-;
you a candle, egad.                          dred uses besides, which I have no notion of.
Scru. And yet a stupid, old, ugly husband,   Har. [Fanning.] It would not be proper, if:
is-                                          you had, papa.
Sir D. I know it: like a heavy old fashioned    Sir D. Like enough: but let's in, and open
piece of plate-always handsome when he's rich. our budget: quite delight my lady with the news:
Har. [After reading the Letter.] Be here to- she'll be in a hell of a pucker.  A fine fuss with
morrow! Bless me, this is so sudden, so unexpected! preparations to-morrow, I warrant: up to the neck
Sir D. Right! the best way in the world in in beef, gowns, ducks, jewels, ribbons, and puff'
these cases. All settled now, but the ceremony; pastry. Come, Hal. [Going out.] Soon have
that we'll finish as soon as possible.-Marriage is your swain kissing your hand.  [SCRUPLE kisses
a kind of cold bath, Hal! never stand trembling on it.] Come along: soon settle this. Kitty will be
the brink: dash away-one plunge, a slight shock, coupled next. Cares are all over; and 1 can now
and the business is over.                    safely swear that most of my uneasiness is behind
Har. But you know, papa, I have scarcely ever me.    [Exeunt; SCRUPLE courting HARRIET,
seen his lordship: it will be so hasty.                   behind SIR DAVID, in dumb show.
Sir D. Be quiet! I know it; married so myself, Hal. Shouldn't have had my dear Lady           SCENE IV.-The Ship Inn.
Dunder, if I had not been hasty. All agreed on
before we met; coupled in a quarter of an hour Enter PEERY, meeting ROUNDPEE and QUIRK.
after I saw her; come together as people dance
minuets; I bowed, she courtesied, and, egad, I   Paul P. I hope, gentlemen, you have every
had her by the left hand in a moment.        thing to your satisfaction.
Scru. But the case here is different. Her   Round. I wish we had, with all my heart.
ladyship had but little reasons for wishing delay:   Paul P. I am very sorry any thing should hapif all husbands, indeed, had equal accomplish- pen amiss. I do all for the best, your honours —
ments-                                       for people in post-chaises.          [Aside.
Sir D. Eh! why something in that; men ar'n't   Quirk. Well, and how goes your house? are
all alike; every body is not blessed with manner you tolerably full at present, eh, landlord?
and style to-eh!-few such figures as I. But   Paul P. Um! Full enough in the larder, yout
Hal, here, is grave, and studies the mind. My honour.  Plenty of fowls, ducks, geese, and
lord has told her his already, you know. So as pigeons; and butchers' meat in abundance: mutsoon as he comes, why   -                    ton chops, lamb chopsHar. Let me entreat you, Sir, not to be so pre-   Round. Damn chops: we don't want victuals,
cipitate; let me take a little time to       cram us with news.
Sir D. Take time! Pooh, time steals too fast   Quirk. But what company have you?  Any
to be taken, now, Hal. My lord leaves London  body of note now 1 Any body that makes a noise
to-morrow, be here to dinner, to church, in the in your house?
evening to-eh?-why, what ails you? Look as   Paul P. Let me see-first, there's my wifered, and as pale as-                           Round. Psha! we have nothing to do with
Har. The weather, Sir; nothing more-the your wife, man; we want an acquaintance or two.
heat of the-                                   Quirk. Ay, haven't you two-two young
Sir D. Odso, true; forgot that. Been broiling gentlemen, for instance, above stairs?
here in the sun, like a lot of negroes: we'll walk    Paul P. Hum!-there's a very old one in the
to the house, and-                           back parlour.
Har. I attend you; but it has really so over-   Round. Oh the devil!
come me-I-I almost want strength to follow    Paul P. Two young gentlemen indeed came;
you. [Embarrassed.] I want-                  down from London about seven this morning,
Scru. Your fan, Madam.                     and theySfr D. Ay, right: a few flaps in the face would    Both. What! What!
tring her about in a second.                   Paul P. Went away about eight, I believe.
Scru. This, Madam, which you have just per-   Round. Damnation! I thought so.
mitted me the honour of carrying for you.      Quirk. But were they tall or short, or fat or
Sir D. Eh! Did she' Give it her. Take it, lean, orHal.                                           Paul P. Eh! One was in a gray coat, and
Har. Shall I, papa?                       the other in. a green one-Very inquisitive.
Sir D. To be sure.  Can't well do without it,                                   [Aside.
I think, at present. A mighty civil, dangling,   Round. [To QUIRK.] The very clothes we
well-bred sort of a —— carries it o' purpose for you, heard at the hotel they sat out in. What shall
you see, to give you on all occasions.       we do, Quirk? How shall we turn?
Har. If then, on this occasion, the gentleman    Quirk. Back.
will return it.                 [Hesitating.    Round. Let's inquire further, however-I sup.
9*




102                          WAYS AND MEANS.                                  [ACT III.
nose now, landlord, you'd like to see two such and you have grown as strong and as stout as a
gentlemen again in your house'              camel.
Paul P. Certainly, your honour! They are    Old Rand. But I have a huge lump of cares
friends of yours, I imagine!                on my back, notwithstanding.
Quirk. Why, we should be glad to see'em    Car. But health is the great thing to care about.
again, I promise you. Do you expect'em back, Why you look as hale and as hearty as ever.
shortly'                                      Old Ral d. Indeed! do you think so, Carney'!
Paul P. Oh yes, in a day or two, I make no    Car. Think! I know it.
doubt.                                         Old Rand. It has been of service. Before I
Round. Indeed! I am rejoiced to hear it.  went over [ was as pale and as puffy —flesh withPaul P. Nay, perhaps sooner-I guess where out colour, and my face peeping through a parcel
they are gone; hardly out of sight of Dover.  of wrappers.
Quirk. A.h! at Calais, no doubt-or at Bou-    Car. For all the world like a mummy
logne, edging the coast, as you say, Mr. Roundfee.   Old Rand. How! why don't you see now?Paul P. And from what I could gather from    Car. Oh! quite another thing, Sir.
the servant, I make no doubt, but their occasions    Old Rand. Another thing, Sir! Why, you
will make them come quickly to our town again. booby, I am as well as ever I was in my life, exRound. Rare news, Quirk —you're  a very cept a few pains, a gout, and a cough.
clever, sensible, intelligent fellow, landlord; I am    Car. Very true, Sir.
so happy at the thought of seeing my old friends    Old Rand. Very true! Then why are you so
again-gad I-I begin to find my stomach return- very costive in your congratulations? Oh, the
ing-so you'll get us a chop, and half a pint of South of France is the best physician in the world
your best port.                             — if it can't cure it seldom kills, and that's more
Paul P. It shall be done, Sir. Stingy scoun- than most doctors can say for themselves.  Then
drel! [Aside.] Here, Lewis.                  the pleasant time we have passed together; I
nursing myself, and you keeping me company, in
-  Enter WAITER.                 my room, all the while eI was sickopny, ine,
Lay a cloth in the back room, up two pair of charming, warm climate!
stairs, d'ye hear'!            ~Car. Ay, happy days, indeed, Mr. Random.
Wait. Very well, Sir. There's the packet just The walks too I enjoyed, in imagination, looking
put into the harbour, Sir.                   out of your window.,. Paul P. Ha! Any body particular'! qiOld Rand. And so you'd wish to have walked
Wait. Mr. Random and another gentleman are out, and be damned to you! taking your amusecoming up the quay,- Sir.     -              ment abroad, while poor I was taking physic at
Round. Eh! Who'!                           home. -Here's friendship for you! and a pretty
Quirk. Random  Put back again, by all that's return for the pleasure I found in keeping you
lucky.:'            close to my bed-side all the day long. Lord!
Pcaul P. Odso! A rare customer! Run, Lewis.  Lord! what few folks feel for any body but them[Exit WAITER.] Your snack shall be ready pre- selves 
sently, gentlemen, and  -                      Car. Nay, T'm sure I suffered as much as you
Quirk. But stop and-                       did yourself.
Paul P. And every thing to your satisfaction,   Old Rand. Well, well, you are the best of the
~gentlemen-and —-                            bunch, I believe-the only man I can agree with.
Round. We want to —                        What can be the reason of it, Carney?
Paul P. IHot, and hot, gentlemen..Car. The similarity of our dispositions, no
Round. Plague of your-                     doubt; for 1 talk, eat, drink, and think, exactly as
Paul P. And I am your very humble servant, you do, Mr. Random.
gentlemen  Coming!           [Exit, bawling.    Old Rand. Something in that, I believe-but
Round. H uzza! rare news, Quirk.  The what a singular, cruel case mine is, that with so
luckiest hit in the world! They are just come on many connexions and a family to boot, I find
Shore, you see, and we shall come in for the cash, such few proofs of people liking me-Plagued
at least their persons, which is something towards with a profligate dog of a son too-who, because
it, directly. Come, come, we'll send fbr an officer I have indulged in a few trifling pleasures myself,
whilst we are; at dinner; and drinking- a merry thinks that he must be uninterrupted in his wild
meeting.-Come, my dear Quirk, we'll soon vagaries. Zounds! getting children is worse than
settle the business, I warrant; and then, after our getting a fever: they keep an incurable heat in
hot post-chaise scamper, and I've made  sure of one's blood, and cost a devilish deal of money into
my money, we'll travel back slowly, at our ease, the bargain.
inthe dilly.                       [Exeunt.    Car. But there is some prospect of a cure here,
I hope?
ACT III.                      Old Rand. -No, no-past recovery, I promise
you. The dog will be deucedly disappointed to
SCENE I-A  Room in the Ship, at Dover.  see me so stout, again, I fancy. [Coughing.] Eh,
Enter OLD RANDOM, leaning on CARNEY.    Carney'
Car. Impossible, Mr. Random: I can't think
Old Rand. Gently, gently, good Carney! The him so depraved. I dare say he'll be overjoyed
cursed sea breeze has got hold of my hip, and I to see you. I am sure, for my part,-[Pompously.
can no more move, at first setting off, than a post   Old Rand. Ay, ay, you are a good soul, Carhorse.                                       ney, and don't know what ingratitude means-at
Car. There! there! gently-and now, Mr. least I think you don't, for you are continually
Random, many welcomes to England again. We telling me so-but he -Didn't I intend to
have been feeding on French air, like cameleons, make him my sole heir, and leave him every thing,




SCENE I.]                   WAYS  ND MEANS.                                        103
except my plate, and my pictures, and my houses, as soon as we set foot in England-a profligate.and my money?: and see his gratitude! You are a scoundrel! I'll-One moment, if you please —.talking to me from morning to night of regard and come here, Peery! you see this business.
attachment; now he has never made half a dozen    Paul P. Plain enough.
of those fine professions in his life.         Old Rand. Do you know of any Mr. Scruple
Car. Where is he now?                     he mentions?
Old Rand. Rattling all over the town. 1 sup-   Paul P. Odso! it's the two young merchants,
pose, with his friend Mr. Scruple, without a as sure as a gun, that Sir David carried off in his
guinea in his pocket; living like other fashionable carriage this morning.
puppies, on what he has least of, his wits; laugh-   Old Rand. Merchants!
ing at every man who has sense enough not to   Paul P. Yes, and now I recollect, one called
act and dress like himself-and this is ton and the other Scruple, sure enough.
fashion now-a-days. Damme, he's hardly fit for   Old Rand. Well, well, you see the mistakeany thing. What can I do with him, Carney?  you must be bail in this business.
Car. Um! Put him in the Guards, Mr. Ran-   Paul P. Who, I! Lord, your honour!
dom.                                           Old Rand. Come, no words. Who is this
Sir David, you talk of?
Enter PEETRY.                   Paul P. Sir David Dunder, of Dunder Halllives hard by.
Old Rand. Ha! honest Peery!                lives hard by.
aldl Pd. I      hope  I see you well, Sir  your   Old Rand. Order a post-chaise. I'll drive there
Paul P. I hope I see you well, Sir? your immediately.
honour looks charmingly since I had the honour   Paul P. But it's so late, your honour. Past
Of seeing your honour.                         Paul P. But it's so late, your honour. Past
of seeing your honour.                       ten o'clock.
Old Rand. See there! How  the alteration
Old Rand. No matter: I'll raise the house.
strikes strangers. [ ToCARNEY.] And any news, Zounds; I'll raise the dead, but I'll be at the botPaulster Peery? any thing particurring lar, except since  tom of all this directly: and if you are shy about
hPaul. Nothing particular, except since ydur  bail, why-I'll leave honest Carney here in pawn,
honour arrived
till I come back.
Old Rand. Well, and what happened then'? til I come hack.
An body inquiringRand. Well, andfter mewhat happened then Car. I had rather keep you company, if you
Any body inquiring  after me? Who is it? 
Paul P. Two very inquisitive people.       please, Mr. Random.
Old Rand.  Oh! custom-house officers, I ima- Paul P. Why, as it appears like a mistake,
Od Rand,  Oh  custom-house officers, I'ima- Sir; and I have known you backwards and forgine.
Paul.P. No, they came from London-they've        so long, and your estate-and
asked a vast deal about your honour. Seem re-   Old rand. Well, trundle these fellows down
joied to hear your honour's arrived  stairs. You'll accept of his undertaking.
joiced to hear your honour's arrived.          B~i. We desire no better.
Old Rand. Very civil of'em. I see nothing    Ba. We desire no better.
particular in this, Master Peery.    Old Rand. As to this Mr. What's his name?
Paul P. And I believe they have sent for a Mr. Roundfee, who is in the house; not a word.
Pconstable for your honour.I believetheyhavof it to him, till I return; for particular reasons.
Old Rand. For me, Mor. Peery!                Paul P. Every thing shall be done to your
OCr. Impossible! For what'?               satistaction, Sir.  Come, gentlemen, we'll proceed to the cellar, if you please; the best lock-up
Paul P. Um t Perhaps they think his honour's
house in Christendom.
a spy.                                         Car. Mercy on us; what an escape!
Car. Mercy on us! We shall. be both appre-   Old Rand. An escape! a scoundrel! an abanhended for runners.
froned —What do you think now of all this, CarOld Rand. I apprehend that you are a block-  ned-What do you think now of all this, Car
head! runners! Why 1 can hardly walk, and    Car. Think Why, I-What do you hik
never spy any thing without spectacles. Why,   Car. Think  Why, I-What do you think?
what's the meaning of all this'               Old Rand. That you are a blockhead, not to
Paul P. I can guess at no other reason they see the meaning of all this: that my son's a blockPaul P. I can guess at no other reason they head to behave so; and that I am a greater blockcan have for taking up you, who are just come head than any body to suffer it.-Zounds! I can
from France-but perhaps your honou r may re- hardly contain myself. I'll never see his face
member some capital crime you have committeda
I am sure'Squire Random, a gentleman of six again. Come along, Carney: I'll be with him,
and sooner than he suspects, I believe: I'll unkennel him, I warrant you: I'll disclaim him, I'll
Enter BAILIFF and Follower,          discard him, I'll undermine him, I'll undo himdamme, I'll unget him,-That's, disinherit him —
Bai. Is your name Random, Sir?            He shall rot in a jail: rot me, if he shan't; I'll
Old Rand. Well, Sir, suppose it is'      teach him what it is to run in debt in person, and
Bai. Then, Sir, you are my prisoner.       get arrested by proxy.             [Exeunt.
Old Rand. The devil I am?
Bai. At the suit of Ralph Roundfee, money    SCENE  I. —A Gallery in Dunder Hall.
scrivener of London, for three thousand pounds.
Paul P. The'squire arrested for debt?-it Four chamber doors at equal distances in the
can't be.                                     back scene. A chair placed against the farCar. I should sooner suspect myself.        thest door on the right hand; stage dark.
Bai. And Mr. Scruple here for the same sum.    RANDOM opens the second door on the left,
[slaps CARN:Y'S shoulder.]
S  Car. Scruple! Who, I?                      So! all quiet: not a soul stirring. [ComesfgrOld -Rand.: Scruple-! Dick's crony, by Jupiter! ward.]  Sir David, good man, thanks to early
and I and poor Carney arrested for the dog's debts hours, is snoring away in the next room to me.




104                         WAYS AND MEANS.                                   [Ac'T n.,
1 heard him, like a high wind, through the cracks It's the first time I ever entered into a scheme of
of the old family wainscot. He little dreams of this sort; and am now convinced that no man
what's to happen before he wakes. Where can thinks of running away, without being cursedly
Scruple be all this while'. He promised to be on frightened.
the watch, as soon as every thing was silent; but   Tiptoe. [Singing without.]he's so cursed slow, and backward in this business! If I was not pretty sure that one woman is    So great a man, so great a man, I'll be 
as much as any one can manage, 1 should be    Scru. Hark! What's that?  Ha! a light.
tempted to take his nymph away without waiting How the devil now am I to find out my room
for him. It's so damned dark too, that there's again? It comes nearer and nearer. I must yvenno being certain of his door. The chair was a ture. I have three chances to one of doing no
lucky thought; we should have made some con- mischief; and I dare say my unlucky stars (or
founded mistake without it, I believe. How the rather my want of any stars at all) will direct me
plague now shall I make him hear, without dis- to Sir David. So, here's somebody's chamber;
turbing any one else.                        1 must in, at all hazards. [Goes into the same
Scru. [Opens the farthest door on the left.] chamber he came out of.]
St-St!
Rand. Scruple!                             Enter TIPTOE, with a dark lantern, singing,
Scru. Random, is it you  and drunk.
Rand. Yes!-softly!-all's snug. The baron-   Tip. Here I am at last! What a plaguy parcel
et's as fast as a church.                   of turnings and windings, to get up to this old
Scru. And his wife?-                     crazy gallery! umph! It has made me as giddy as
Rand. Pickling, I believe, below stairs in the a goose. Now for my masters, damn my masstore-room. The old woman's head is so full of ters! Scamper! Scamper! Scamper!-Twon't do
this nonsensical match Sir David has told her of, -No; never fit for me. Give me a regular,
that she'll be up with the house-keeper, I find, steady, sober family for my money. If it hadn't
three parts of the night, to make preparations for been for the lantern I begged of the old boy at the
the wedding.                                 inn-I was forced to treat the drunken scoundrel
Scru.'Sdeath, we shall be discovered: we shall before he would give it me-I might have tumbled
never get out without her hearing us.        over the bannisters. Mr. Random, now I think
Rand. Pooh! never have done with your doubts on't, ordered me to come in the dark! Umph!
and objections 1                             Gentlemen think no more of servants' necks nowScru. Surely her being up is an objection of a-days, they think we've one to spare, like the
some weight.                                 Swan in Lad-lane, I believe. But softly! softly!
Rand. Certainly, she's of great weight in the No noise. I must go to the chamber to tell him
house-for which reason she's gone quite to the the carriage is ready. Let me see, it's the last
bottom of it. She must have devilish good ears door but one, at one end of the gallery; but
to hear us there; for we shan't come within a whether it's to the right, or to the left, curse me
mile of her. But have you heard any thing of if 1 recollect.  Stay-[ Turning  round, and
Tiptoe?                                     counting the doors.]  One, two, three. Damme
Scru. No: do you expect him.               how the doors dance! I shall never find the right,
Rand. Yes: I sent him to Dover, with orders if they take it in their heads to run round so conto bring the carriage and horses to the back gate foundedly. I remember, [ Taking the chair, and
of the garden. It's turned of eleven too, I take drawing it along.] when I lived with old Lady
it. Look what's o'clock, will you?         Hobble she always sat still at Ranelagh to find
Scru. Look! why it requires the eyes of a cat. out her company. Now, as these gentlemen here,
It's as dark as a dungeon.                   [Pointing to the doors.] choose to take a RaneRand. Odso, I had forgot; but he'll be here lagh round, I think I had better sit quiet in the
presently: I have been obliged to let him into the middle of'em, till any old acquaintance comes by.
secret: he has procured a key of the back-door, [Pulls the chair against the next door, and sits
and will slide up to my chamber; which he has down.]  Zounds! how fast somebody sleeps, Sir
had an opportunity of marking, he tells me, in his David, perhaps. I wonder if baronets ever snore.
own way, to give us intelligence.            What the devil am I to do now? Get my head
Scru. Well, if he is but punctual-        broke for not calling my master; and my bones
Rand; Oh! you may depend upon him: but, broke, if I should happen to call any body else intill he comes, we may as well prepare our fair stead of him. As that is the case, i'll call nobody,
companions.  I'll try and find out the chair, egad!-I'll e'en go back to the carriage, and wait
which is against their dressing-room door; where till they come for me. So, gently, steady.
they are in waiting. [Feeling about.]  Their                              [Exit, singing.
bed-chamber is beyond it; so I may enter without   Scru. [After a pause, opens the door.] Once
infringing the rules of etiquette, you know.  more every thing is quiet. I can't conceive who
Scru. Hlad'nt I better go with you?      it could be so long with a light in the gallery. I
Rand No, no; stay here as an outpost: I shall had best give Random notice of what has happensoon be oack.                                ed; that in case we are watched, he may be upon
Scr a. Gently, no mistakes now.            his guard. Hereabouts the door must be-[GoRand. Never fear! So, here's the chair.    ing to the door RANDOM entered.] Eh! no chair
Scru. Remember —caution's the word.       -'sdeath, this is Sir David's! A pretty blunder
Rand. Ay, and expedition too. The house I should have made! [Goes to the next.] 0 here
must divide, you know: so the sooner we clear it is at last. [ Taps at the door.] What a number
the gallery the better. [ Taps; door opens, and of accidents this little contrivance has prevented!
Ae enters into the women's chamber.]         I had better explain to him what hoas happened.
Scru. How awkward I feel in this business! in the inside of my chamber; for it's dangerous




ScMEE II.]                  WAYS AND MEANS.                                        105
Waiting on the outside a moment, I find. What   Rand. Our two fair ones both equipped for
the deuce keeps him so long now? [ Taps again; flight.
SIR DAVID opens the door in his bed-gown and    Sir D. My Harriet?
night-cap.]                                    Rand. Yes, and my Kitty-they'll be in our
Sir D. Well'.                            arms in an instant, you rogue! And we've noScru. Hush! it's I.                       thing to do, but to lead'em to the coach, and
Sir D. I!                                 away as fast as love, money, and horses, can carry
Scru. Softly! Softly! Zounds, you are so un- us. Didn't I tell you now, that your doubts were
guarded! Follow me! Quick, quick! Only fol- all nonsense  but,'sdeath, you are so dull about
low me, and you shall hear all. [Exit into his it: your fears have so overcome you, that-why
own chamber.]                                aren't you like me-all rapture, all passion?
Sir D. Follow me! Damned, if I do though.   Sir D. Hem! [Showing signs of agitation.
Can't stir a step without running the risk of   Rand. Ay, this is right now! this is as it.
breaking my nose. Cursed queer! A fellow in  should be. But I'll go and bring'em out. [Gothe dark with no name, a rascal to rot) the house, ing; turns back.] Ha, ha, ha! I can't help
perhaps-gad, it has put me all in a twitter.  laughing to think what a damned clatter Sir
David will make by and by. His fat fubsy wife
RANDOM comes out with a bundle from the   too; cackling about the house, like an old hen that
women's chamber.               has lost her chickens.
Rand. St! St!                                Sir D. Old hen! Damme, I wish she had
Sir D. Eh!                                never sat to have brought such a brood.
Rand.'Tis I.                                                                   [Aside.
Sir D. So! here's'tother I.      [Aside.   Rand. And he too. Did you ever see such a
Rand. Where are you? Here! hold this bun- tedious booby in your life. But I'll go and condle. [ Thrusting it into his hands.] Why, what duct our charge. By the bye, has Tiptoe beeTn
makes you shake so?  Are you cold here?    here?
Sir D. Zounds, a thief!-He'll cut my throat   Sir D. No.
if I cry out.                       [Aside.   Rand. Careless' scoundrel! But we shall find
_Rand. For shame, flurried at such a trifle as him  at the gate with the carriage, I suppose.
this! But there's no knowing even one's friends Now for it. Now to deliver our damsels from the
till they're tried, I see.                   clutches of an obstinate fool of a father. A blockSir D. Like enough. Most of your friends head, to think to marry women to whom he
have been tried, I dare say.         [Aside. pleases! No, no: whenever there's any forbidden
Rand. Put we shall have a whole cargo to fruit, it is not in human nature to rest easy till it
carry. Stay where you are now. Don't stir for is tasted.            [Feeling for th.e door.
your life, and I'll be back in an instant. We'll   Sir D. Liquorish dogs!    [Keeps back.
soon make an end, I warrant you.               Scru. [Coming out.] Why, what could he
[Returns to the women's chamber. mean?  There's no noise: all's quiet as can be.
Sir D. That you will, a pretty public one too, Random!
I take it. Mercy on me! How shall I get away?   Rand. Well.
The dog's given me a bundle here as big as a   Scru. Are you ready?
child. I shall be brought in for a new kind of   Rand. Yes, yes: didn't 1 tell you so  We're
burglary —Cast for breaking into my own house, coning.
and hanged for robbing myself of property. My    Scru. Well, well: Tiptoe has not been here.
lady's locked up below, I suppose; bound back to   Rand. Psha! Plague, I know it; you told me
back with the old housekeeper: or gagged and so already.
ravished, poor quiet soul, with the rest of the    Scru. Did I? When?
family females. If I could but contrive to-    Rand. Why, this instant; but you are in such
[Feeling about. a flutter, you can't remember a word you say.
Scru. [Putting out his head.] Hollo!       But you have taken care of the bundle I hope?
Sir D. Oh, the devil! There's one in every    Scru. Bundle! What bundle?
corner, a whole banditti playing at bo-peep.   Rand. That, that I gave you just now.
[Aside.   Scru. Just now! not you, indeed! Why, you're
Scru. Come, come, don't trifle now; I've some- in a flutter yourself.
thing to say to you.                           Rand. Pooh, pooh! I tell you the bundle I
Sir D. The fellow don't know me in the dark. brought out of the room. The bundle thatI'll deceive him.                    [Aside.   Scru. Damn the bundle! I never saw it, nor
Scru. Nay, this delay will-. felt it in all my life.
Sir D. Hush.                                Rand. Now, how can yo,- be so cursed obstiScru. What's the matter? Anybody coming? nate?  I put it into your own hands, and you
Sir D. Yes, yes.                          shook as if you'd an ague.
Scru. Ha! we are discovered. In, in.         Scru. Shook! your memory is shook, I believe.
[Shuts the door.   Rand. Gad, I could have sworn.I had given it
Sir D. Now, if I could but crawl down this you, but we must not stand upon trifles now.
back stair case.                             Time's precious.-[ Opens the women's door;
[lMeets RANDOM coming out, and runs HARRIET and KITTY come out.] This way, this
against him.                      way. Now, ladies, we attend you.
Rand. Now, my dear Scruple, all's ready.    Kitty. Lud! it's as dark as pitch.
Sir D. Zounds, it's the two merchants!      Rand. Never fear.
[Aside.   Har. Heavens! how I tremble.
Rand. Our packing is all over.               Scru. Courage now, my Harriet, and we may
Sir 0. Indeed!                           soon defy every danger.
VoL. I....O




106                         WAYS AND MEANS.                                   [AOT IIL
Rand. Well said, courage! well said Caesar, out asking. French leave, if I had not been here
egad!'Sdeath, Madam, if you draw back now, have smuggled my goods in the dark, trotted over
you spoil all. I'll bring you all through, I warrant the Tweed, and been hammered together by a
you.                                         bare-breeched blacksmith. A fine Scotch union,
Har. I fear I shall never bear up. The step I egad! my two rich roses here tied to a pair of poor
am taking, the weight on my spirits-         pitiful thistles! but zounds! I'll have satisfaction.
Rand. Vapours! vapours, from being in the   Lady. For heaven's sake, my dear! cool your
dark;, nothing else, believe me, Madam.      choler a little, Sir David.
Hal. My mother too-what will not she feel?   Sir D. Be quiet. What! have I had a sword
Scru. Nay, pursue this no further.         bobbing between my legs, at Dover hops, and
Kitty.: Mamma will be in a sweet bustle, I quiet country meetings, fbr these twenty years;'warrant. Rattling about Sir David's* ears for and now not rub off its rust, in the oily guts of a;bringing you into the house.                couple of whale catchers, for what I know to the
Sir D. [Behind.] Be quiet; I know it.      contrary?
Kitty. Yes, that's exactly like him for all the
world. Gemini, I shall never find my way.         OLD RANDOM and CARNEY, without.
Rand. Stay: take my arm. Come, Madam.   Old Rand. Come along, Carney: late as it is,'Scruple-arm in arm all four, and then for our my gentlemen can't escape now, I believe. [ They
amarch.                                      enter.] Hey-day! the whole family collected!
Sir D. March! damme, but I'll muster among   Rand. My father! a pretty business we have
ye, though-                          [Aside. made of it.
[SIR DAVID comes forward between them.   Old Rand. I beg pardon for this intrusion,KITTY takes hold of SIR DAVID'S and hut if Sir David Dunder is here, and sees the
RANDOM'S arms, HARRIET of SIR DAVID'S occasionand SCRUPLE'S; all arm in arm, SIR DA-   Sir D. I know it; see it all already: fine occaVID in the middle.                     sion, indeed: and you, too, [ To OLD RAND.] act
Rand. So; thus linked, he must be a cunning as accomplices, do you?-an old fellow-sham!
and a bold fellow too, that thinks of dividing us. What, you've a wig, now, I warrant, like a young
[Going.-A loud ringing at the bell, counsellor's-squeezed over a toupee with a dapScrmu Hark! somebody rings at the gate.   per tail peeping out between the ties.
Har. Oh mercy! we shall be seen.            Old Rand. How!
Kitty. Lud! there's a light! hide! hide us, for   Car. My worthy old friend means, Sirheaven's sake. It's mamma, as sure as 1 live.  Sir D. Hush:-he is an old one, is he? means
Sir D. [Aloud.] No, no! stay where you are. to run away with my wife, then, I suppose.
Come along, my lady; a light will do us a deal of   Lady. I fancy he'd find it a difficult matter to
good.                                        carry me off.
Old Rand. Run away! Not I. I came here
EZnter LADY DUNDER, with a light.      after a couple of youngsters, thatSir D. Did you! There they are. Take'emn
Servant, ladies and gentlemen.               away with you: as pretty a pair as any in EngLady. Mercy on me! Sir David! girls! gen- land: you may match'em  against all Europe,
tlemen!                                      egad.
Scru. Confusion'! Old Rand. So, you are two pretty gentlemen;
Rand. Sir David!                          are not you? And how dare you, Sir, look me in
Sir D. Yes, here we are-been frisking about the face, after your profligate proceedings?  [ To
like a parcel of rabbits. Our burrows are all RAND.] Not content neither in contracting debts,
empty.                                       but you must have me, your poor father, you dig,
Lady. Why, what's the meaning of-          arrested for'em.
Sir D. Be quiet-meaning? treachery-mean    Car. Yes, and me too.
to bamboozle us. Dark night, rope ladders, gar-   Rand. I am at a loss how to comprehend;
aen gate, and Gretna Green-that's the meaning Sirof it.                                         Old Rand. But that rascal, that rogue, RoundLady. How land is this the return for-    fee, I think they call him, he can, I believe. Here
Sir D. Hush! ay, is this the return for my have I and poor Carney just been taken in cusopen, hospitable, generous-I that put salt in tody for you, at Dover; while you have been playyour porridge, bread in your mouth, and steaks in ing your pranks at large all over the country..
your stomach; crammed every thing into you, but   Sir D. Eh! be quiet.-Cursed  unrgenteel
gratitude.                                   though in you, if you are his father. Zounds!
Lady. And come here on purpose, I suppose, you have used me worse than they! Get yourself
with a trumped-up story of-                  locked up for your son here, with a plague to you!
Sir D. Trump 1 damme, this will-be their last that he and his friend may have time to run off
trump I take it. And you too! [ To the Women.] with my daughters.
You! [To HARRIET.] you that I intended tolink    Old Rand. 1! I have withdrawn my counteto a lord; to go and give up a peer for a pedlar; a nance long ago, I promise you.
merchant; a fellow that lives like a lobster by salt   Sir D. Ha! family failing. The son woult}
water; a culler of pepper and spice; a trader in have withdrawn his countenance too, if I'd. let
train oil, Greenland blubber, and China pipkins; him.
or a black dealer in devils to sell at American    Old Rand. How! what, attempt tomarkets.                                       Sir D. Be quiet.-I am the injured party: let
Scru.'Sdeath! What is all this?          me speak.,Rand. If you'll give us-leave, Sir, to. —  Lady. No, Sir David, I'llSir D. Give! gad, you'd have taken leave with-   Scru. To end all confusion, I'll speak.




CEN1 II.                    W  A Y S AND  MEANS.                                   107
Rand. What tne deuce can Doubtful say now,   Lady. Well, I vow the young man-pleads so
after all.                           [Aside. prettily in his defence, thatScru. It is yourself, Sir David, who have been   Rand. If your ladyship and my father coula
chiefly to blame.                           forget past occurrences, and join with me in my
Rand. He beats me all to nothing.   (Aside. suit to Sir David for a union with his daughterScru. Your unguarded kindness to strangers I hope my future conduct-,might have been attended with much more dis-   Old Rand. Um!-Why, as things are so, Sir
agreeable consequences. You took our charac- David; and my connexions are pretty considerters from report, I see: characters which we never able-my estate pretty well knownthought of assuming.                           Car. A good six thousand a year.-I have
Sir D. Oh, damn Paul!                     known my good friend here some time; and have
Scru. Our invitation was unsought; and though had his property under my eye for these five
mur manner of requiting your favours appears un- years.
Justifiable, you may congratulate yourself, that   Old Rand. And his friend, I am happy to tell
instead of being practised upon by men, unworthy you, is as well connected as he is.
your countenance, you have met with gentlemen.   Sir D. Is he?-Well. as matters are-and my
Sir D. Here's two fine fellows! come into my lord might find a flaw here,-afi ugly business,
house-going to carry off half on't on their shoul- not much to his liking; I think we can but in
ders-and then-I have met with gentlemen.     honour be off-so, to prevent cursed country scanScru. Our conduct, Sir David, is not so cul- dal, gabbling girls, ugly old maids, and all thatpable as you imagine. A chance, like your pre- I think we may as well, my lady?
sent invitation, threw us in your daughters' way   Lady. As you think proper, Sir David. —Harat Bath, and our continued affection (I think I riet?
may answer for my friend) may prove our motives   Har. We are bound now, Madam, both by inare unguided by interest: as a further proof of it, clination and duty, to follow your commands.
we disclaim all views of their fortune.-Bestow    Kitty. Yes, mamma, we are both bound.
but their hands, Sir David, and we shall be happy.   Sir D. Well, then; there, there! take one anoSir D. Eh! zounds! something noble in that ther-no words.
too.                                           Rand. And now, Kitty, I am your prisoner
Lady. But to think of carrying away our two for life.
dear rosy girls here; handsomer than all the pale   Old Rand. Remember, Roundfee, though;chits of the county.                        there you might have been a prisoner not much
Sir D. Hush! handsomer? Ay,. and richer to your liking.
too! with pockets full of money: housewives   Sir D. What! a usurer? Damme, let's duck
stuffed with bank notes; and work bags crammed him.
with guineas.                                  Old Rand. Oh! he and his gentlemen may be
Old Rand. Indeed, I begin to think Dick is settled with at leisure. Their blunders have left
not such a sad dog as I took him for. Eh! Car- them to our mercy, and they merit none, I proney?                                        mise you; —fellows, whose business it is to prey
Car. I am perfecly of your opinion, Mr. Ran- upon the unthinking, extort from the needy, and
dom.                                         live upon the distresses of mankind, deserve very
Lady. And what has the other gentleman to little compassion when they are distressed themsay for himself?              [To RANDOM. selves.
Kitty. indeed, mamma, we are not much to   Sir D. I know it. But here, however, they
blame neither.                              shall have no distresses to prey upon, no moping,
Rand. Love, Madam, all-powerful love, must melancholy looks now. All's well, I hope, at
plead my excuse; a passion which may once have last, as it ought to be-and nothing ought to give
Influenced vour ladvship's delicate susceptible any of us, here, so much pleasure as looking, to{<bosomra.  -...night on a set of very merry faces.   [Exeunt.




THE DEVIL TO PAY:
OR,
THE WIVES METAMORPHOSED;
A BA..LLAD PARCE,
BY CHARLES COFFEY, EsQ.
REMARKS.
THis well-known little piece had as many hands concerned in its fabrication, as ever clubbed together in a
business of so slight importance. It was originally written in three acts by a performer of the name of Jevon, af.
terwards altered considerably by Messrs. Coffey and Mottley, and again cut into a single act by Theophilus Cibber.
From all the above copies, it was reproduced in its present state in 1731, and published with Mr. Coffey's name
as the author. The celebrated Mrs. Clive is said to owe the rise of her great reputation to her success in the part
of NJell; and Mr. Harper, the original in Jobson, considerably advanced in rank and salary by his excellent performance of that character.
In spite of the impossible absurdity whence all the characters derive their origin, this petite piece is tolerated
and even seen with pleasure, from the easy humour of the dialogue, and the natural behaviour of the character.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
COVENT GARDEN, 1818.                              COVENT GARDEN, 1818.
SIR JOHN LOVERULE,.......... Mr. Incledon.  DOCTOR,...........            Mr. Chapman.
BUTLER.....................1.    Treby.
COOK,.............         Mr. King.      LADY LOVERULE,...........  M...rs. Gibbs.
F'OOTMAN...................Mr. Duruset.  LUCY,......................... Mrs. Coats.
COACHMAN,.........         Mr. Atkins.    LETTICE,................... iss Cox.
JOBSON,...                  Mr. Emery.   NELL,............Mrs. Jordan..
SCENE I.-JossoN's House.                 Nell. Did ever one hear such stuff. But I pray
Enter JOBsoN and NELL.               you now, Jobson, don't go to the alehouse tonight.
Nell. Pr'ythee, good Jobson, stay with me to-   Job. Well, I'll humour you for once; but don't
night, and for once make merry at home.         grow saucy upon't; fbr I'm invited by Sir John
Job. Peace, peace, you jade, and go spin: for, Loverule's butler, and am to be princely drunk
~f I lack any thread for my stitching, I will punish  with punch at the hall-place: we shall have a bowl
yotu by virtue of my sovereign authority.       large enough to swim in.
Nell. Ay, marry, no doubt of that, whilst you    Nell. But they say, husband, the new lady will
take your swing at the alehouse, spend your sub- not suffer a stranger to enter her doors; she
stance, get as drunk as a beast, and then come home grudges even a draught of small beer to her own
like a sot, and use one like a dog.             servants: and several of the tenants have come
Job. Nounz I do you prate?  Why, how now, home with broken heads from her ladyship's own
brazen-face, io you speak ill of the government? hands, only for smelling strong beer in the house.
Don't you know, hussy, that I am king in my    Job. A plague on her for a fanatical jade! She
own  house, and that this is treason against my  has almost distracted the good knight.  But she's
majesty?-                                      now abroad, feasting with her relations, and will
108




SCENEI I.1                  THE DEVIL TO PAY.                                       109
scarce come home to-night; and we are to have      Fill up the mighty sparkling bowl.
much drink, a fiddle, and merry gambols.           That every true and loyal soul
Nell. 0, dear husband, let me go with you;       May drink and sing without control,
we'll be as merry as the night's long.               To support our pleasure.
Job. Why how now, you bold baggage! would        Thus, mighty Bacchus, shalt thou be
you be carried to a company of smooth-faced,         Guardian of our pleasure;
eating, drinking, lazy serving-men? No, no, you   That under thy protection we;ade, I'll not be a cuckold.                         May enjoy new pleasure.
Nell. I'm sure they would make me welcome:       And as the hours glide away,
you promised I should see the house; and the fa-   We'll in thy name invoke their stay,
mily has not been here before, since you married   And sing thy praises, that we may
and brought me home.                                 Live and die with pleasure.
Job. Why, thou most audacious strumpet,   But. The king and the royal family in a brim*dar'st thou dispute with me, thy lord and master? mer.
Get in and spin, or else my strap shall wind
about thy ribs most confoundedly.                                AIR.
AIR.                         Here's a good health to the king,
And send hirn a prosperous reign;
He that has the best wife,                  O'er hills and high mountains
She's the plague of his life,              We'll drink dry the fountains,
But ~or her, who will scold and will quarrel,  Until the sun rises again, brave boys,
Let him cut her off short                 Until the sun rises again.
Of her meat and her sport,
And ten times a day hoop her barrel, brave boys,  Then here's to thee, my boy boon,
And ten times a day hoop her barrel.          And here's to thee my boy boon;
As we've tarried all day
Novell. Well, we poor women must always be       For to drink down the sun,        [boyst
slaves, and never have any joy; but you men run  So we'll tarry and drink down the moon, br'ave
and ramble at your pleasure.                     So we'll tarry and drink down the moon.
Job. Why, you most pestilent baggage, will   Omnes. Huzza!
you be hooped   Be gone.             [
GNell. I must obey.                Going.nter SI JOHN LOVERUIE, and LADY Lovr'Job. Stay; now I think on't, here's sixpence                  RULE.
for you; get ale and apples, stretch and puff thy-   Lady L. O heaven and earth! what's here
self up with lamb's wool, rejoice and revel by within my doors? Is hell broke loose<  What
thyself, be drunk and wallow in thy own sty, likeiends are here, you i,,, grumblingvs   asthou art.         troops of fiends are here? Sirrah, you impudent
a grumbling sow as thou art.                 rascal, speak!
He that has the best wife,    [Sings.   Sir J. For shame, my dear.-As this is a time'
She's the plague of his life, &c.  [Exeunt. of mirth and jollity, it has always been the custom
of my house to give my servants liberty in this:
SCENE II-SIR JOHN LOVERULE'S House.  season, and to treat my country neighbours, that
Enter BUTLER, COOK, FOOTMAN, COACHMAN,  with innocent sports they may divert themselves.
LUCY, LETTICE, 4-C.                Lady L. I say, meddle with your own affairs,
I will govern my own house without your putting
But. I would the blind fiddler and our dancig in an oar. Shall I ask your leave to correct my
neighbours were here, that we might rejoice a own servants 
little, while our termagant lady is abroad: I have     Sir J. I thought Madam  this had been 
Sir J. I thought, Madam, this had been mvmade a most sovereign bowl of punch.
made a most sovereign bowl of punch.  house, and these my tenants and servants.
Lucy. We had need rejoice sometimes, for our   Lady L. Did I bring a fortune, to be thus'
devilish new lady will never suffer it in her hear- abused and snubbed before people? Do you calling.                                         my authority in question, ungrateful man? Look
Enter Blind FIDDLER, JOBSON, and NEIGHBOURS. to your dogs and horses abroad, but it will be nly
But. Welcome, welcome all; this is our wish. province to govern here; nor will I be controlled
- Honest old acquaintance, goodman Jobson, bye'era hunting, hawking knight in Christendom.
how dost thou?                                       A IR.-SIR JOHN LOVERTILE.
Job. By my troth, I am always sharp-set to-        Ye gods, you gave to me a wife,
wards punch, and am now come with a firm reso-         Out of your grace and favour,
lution, though but a poor cobler, to be as richly    To be the comfort of my life,
drunk as a lord: I am a true English heart, and        And I was glad to have her;
took upon drunkenness as the best part of the        But if your providence divine
liberty of the subject.                                 For greater bliss design her,
But. Come, Jobson, we'll bring out our bowl        T' obey your wills at any time,
of punch in solemn procession; and then for a          I'm ready to resign her.
song to crown our happiness.       [Exeunt. This is to be married to a continual tempest:
Re-en~ter JonsoN, BUTLERX, 4C.' with a bogld of  strife and noise, canting and hypocrisy, are eterPunch.                     nally afloat.-'Tis impossible to bear it long.
Lady L. Ye filthy scoundrels, and odious jades
AIR.                     I'll teach you to junket it thus, and steal my proCome, jolly Bacchus, god of wine,       visions; I shall be devoured, at this rate.
Crown ibis night with pleasure;         But. I thought, Madam, we might be mierry
Let none at cares of life repine,       once upon a holiday.
To destroy our pleasure:                Lady L. Holiday, you popish cur! Is onm
10




110                        THE DEVIL TO PAY.                                  SCENE 11f
day more holy than another? And if it be, you'll go down the lane about a quarter of a mile, and,
be sure to get drunk upon it, you rogue. [Beats you'll see a cobler's cottage; stay there a little,
him.] You minx, you impudent flirt, are you and I'll send my servant to conduct you to a tejigging it after an abominable fiddle 1      nant's house, where you'll be well entertained.
[Lugs LucY by the ears.   Doec. I thank you, Sir; I'm your most humble;
Lucy. 0 lud! she has pulled off both my ears. servant-But as for your lady there, she shall this.
Sir J. Pray, Madam, consider your sex and night'feel my resentment.'        [Exit.
quality: I blush for your behaviour.           Sir J. Come, Madam, you and I must have.
Lady L. Consider your incapacity: you shall some conference together.'not instruct'me. Who are you, thus muffled, you' Lady L. Yes;' will have a conference and aw
buzzard?  [She beats them off; JOBSON steals by. reformation too in this house, or I'll turn it upside
Job. I am an honest, plain, psalm-singing cob- down-I will.                   [Exeunt..
bhler, Madam: if your ladyship would but go to
church, you might hear me above all the rest there.'   SCENE III.-JOBsoN's: Hoouse e
Lady L. I'll try thy voice here first, villain.
[Strikes him.        Enter NELL and the DOCTOR.
Job. Nounz! what a plague, what-a devil ails   Nell. Pray, Sir, mend your draught, if you:
syou?.i                               please; you are very welcome, Sir.
Lady L. 0 profane wretch! wicked varlet!   Doc. Thank you hearitily, good woman; and
Sir J. For shame! your behaviour is mon- to requite your civility, I'll tell'you your fortune.'strous!                                      Nell. O, pray do, Sir,; I never: had my fortune
Lady L. Was ever poor lady so miserable in a told me in my life.
brutish husband as I am 1 I that am so pious and    Doc. Let me behold the lines of your face.:so religious a woman!           -             Nell. I am afraid, Sir,'tis none of the cleanest;
Job. [Sings.] He that has the best wife,   I have been about dirty work all this day.
She's the plague of his life;        Doc. Come, come,'tis a good'face, be not.
But for her that will scold and will quarrel.    ashamed of it; you shall show it in' greater places.[Exit.suddenly.
Lady L. 0 rogue! scoundrel! villain!     Su
Lady L. O roguem! scoundrel! villain  Nell. 0 dear, Sir, I shall be mightily ashamed:
Sir J. Remember modesty.                  I want dacity when I come before great folks.
Lady L. I'll rout you all with a vengeance-   Doc. You must be confident, and fear nothing;
~I'11 spoil- your squeaking treble.          there is much happiness attends you.
[Beats thefiddle about thle blind Man's head.   Nell. Oh me! this is a rare man; heaven be
Fid. 0 murder! murder!                    thanked.                              [Aside,
Sir J. Here, poor fellow, take your staff and    Doe. To-morrow, before the sun rise, you shall
be gone; there's money to buy you two such; be the happiest woman in this country.
that's-your way.            [Exit FIDDLER.   Nell. How, by to-morrow? alack-a-day, Sir,
Lady L., Methinks you are very liberal, Sir. how can that be 
Must my estate maintain you in your profuseness?   Doc. No more shall you be troubled with a
Sir J. Go up to your closet, pray, and compose surly husband, that rails at, and straps you.
your mind.                                     Nell..Lud! how came he to know that? he
Lady L. O wicked man! to bid me pray.  -  must be a conjurer! [Aside.] Indeed my husband
Sir J. A man can't be completely cursed, I is somewhat rugged, and in hiscups will beat me,
see, without marriage: but since there is such a but it is not much: he's an honest pains-taking'thing as separate maintenance, she shall to-morrow  man, and I let him have his way. Pray, Sir, take
enjoy the benefit of it. [Knocking at the door.] tother cup of ale.
Here, where are my servants? must they *be   Doc. 1 thank you-Believe me, to-morrow you
frighted from  me?-Within'there-see  who shall be the richest woman i'th' hundred, and ride
~~~knocks..,~~ ~in your own coach.
Lady L. Within there-Where are my sluts?   Nell.    father  you jeer me.
ye drabs,.ye queans-Lights there.              Doc. By my art, I do not. But mark my
Re-enter BUTLER.'             words, be confident, and bearall out, or worse will
follow.
But. Sir, it is a doctor that lives ten miles off;   Nell. Never fear, Sir, I warrant you-O gehe practises physic, and is an astrologer; your mini! a coach.
worship knows him very well; he is a cunning
man, makes almanacks, and can- help- people to              Enter JOBsoN.
-their goods again.                            Job. Where is this quean? Here, Nell! What
a plague, are you drunk with your lamb's wool?
E~nter: DOCTOR.                1Nell. 0 husband! here's the rarest man-he
Doc. Sir, I humbly. beg your honour's pardon has told me my fortune.
for this unseasonable intrusion: but I am benight-   Job. Has he so! and planted my fortune too,
~ed, and'tis so dark that I can't possibly find my a lusty pair of horns upon my head-Eh! —s't
way home; and knowing your worship's hospita- not so?
lity, desire the favour to be harboured under your     Doc. Thy wife is a virtuous woman, and thou'lt
-roof to-night.                              be happyLady L. Out of my house, you lewd conjurer,  Job. Come out, you hang-dog, you juggler, you.you magician.                               cheating, bamboozling villain; must I be cuckolded
Doc. Here's a turn? Here's a change!-Well, by such rogues'as you are, mackmaticians, and
If I have any art, ye shall smart for this. [Aside. almanack makers?
Sir J. You see, friend, I am not master of my    Nell. Pr'ythee, peace, husband, we shall be
-wn house; therefore, to avoid any uneasiness, rich, and have a coach of our own.




ErENE V.J                    THE DEVIL TO PAY.                                         111
Job. A coach! a cart, a wheel-barrow, you jade. servants  - Somebody come and hamstring this.
By the mass, she's drunk, beastly drunk, most rogue.                              [Knocks.
confoundedly drunk-Get to bed, you strumpet.    Job. Why, how now, you brazen quean I you
[.Beats her. must get drunk with the conjurer, must you? I'll
Nell. 0 mercy on: us! is this a taste of my  give you money another time to spend in lamb's,
good fortune? Oh, you are the devil of a conjurer, wool, you saucy jade, shall I 
sure enough.                          [rExit.   Lady L. Monstrous!  I can find no bell to
Doc. You had better not have touched her, you  ring;  Where are my servants? they shall toss
surly rogue.                                   him in a blanket.
Job. Out of my house you villain.              Job. Ay, the jade's asleep still: the conjurer
Doc. Farewell, you paltry slave.            told her she should keep her coach, and she is,
Job. Get out you rogue.           [Exeunt. dreaming of her equipage.                [Sings.
SCENE IV. —An open Country.                     I will come in, in spite she said,
nter DOCTOROf all such churls as thee;
Thou art the cause of all our pain,
AIR.                                 Our grief and misery.
Doc. My little spirits, now appear,                   Thou first broke the commandment,
Nadir and Abi shog, draw near;                     In honour of thy wife;
The time is short, make no delay;                 When Adam heard her say these words,
Then quickly haste, and come away::                He ran away for life.
Nor moon, nor stars afford their light,
But all is wrapped in gloomy night:        Lady L. Why, husband! Sir John! will you
Both men and beasts to rest incline,     suffer me to be thus insulted?
And all thingsfavour my design.             Job. Husband! Sir John! what a plague, has
Spir. [Within.] Say, master, what is tobe done?    she knighted me? and my name's Zekel too; a
Doc. MIy strict commands be sure attend,      good jest faith.
For, ere this night shall have an end,   g   jt faith.
For, ereust this niht cobbler's whave tran ensform,  Lady L. Ha! he' s gone, he's not in the bed..
You must this cob~ler's w~j~e trans~Heaven! where am  I?  Foh! what ]oathsome
And to the knight's the like perform:              where am  I?  Foh! what loathso
With all your most specific charms,      smells are here   Canvass sheets,. and a filthy
Convey each wife to diff'rent arms;      ragged curtain; a beastly rug, and a flock bed. Am
Let the delusion be so strong,           I awake, or is it all a dream? what rogue is that,
That none may know the right from wrong.   Sirrah! where am I?  who brought me hither?
Spir. All this we will with care perform      what rascal are you 1
In thunder, lightning, anld in storm.      Job. This is amazing-I never heard such,
[Thunder. Fxit DOCTOR. words from her before? if 1 take my strap to you,
I'll make you know your husband, I'll teach you
JSCENE V.-JOBSONT'S EHouse.- The bed -in view.  better manners, you saucy drab..
JOBsON discovered at work.              Lady L. Oh, astonishing impudence! you my
Job. What devil has been abroad to-night Z I ~husband, Sirrah  I'll have youhanged, you rogue;
never heard such claps of thunder in my life; I I'n a lady. Let meknow whoI has given me a
sleeping draught, and, conveyed~ me hither, yott
thought my little hovel would have flown away  sleeping draught, an  conveyed me hthr, yo
but now all is clear again, and a fine star-light
morning it is. I'll settle myself to work. They    Job. A sleeping draught  yes, you drunken jade,
say, winter's thunder is summer's wonder.      you had a sleeping draught, w ha plague to ye.
What, has not your lamb's wool done working
AIRn                       yet?
Of -all the trades from east to west,    Lady L. Where am I? where has my villanous
The cobler's, past contending,       husband put me? Lucy! Lettice! where are my
Is like in time to prove the best,     queans?
Which every day is mending.           Job. Ha, ha, ha! what does she call her maids.
How great his praise, who can amend    too? the conjurer has made her mad as well as
The soles of all his neighbours;     drunk.
Nor is unmindful of his end,             Lady L. He talks of conjurers; sure I am beBut to his last still labours.       witched! ha! what clothes are hre e' a InseyLady L. [In bed.] Hey-day! what impudent woolsey gown, a calico hood, a red baize petticoat;
ballad-singing rogue is that, who dares wake me I am removed from my own house by witchcraft.
out of my sleep? I'll have you flayed, you rascal. What must I do?  What will become of me?
Job. What a plague, does she talk in her sleep?                      [Horns wind without.
or is she drunk still?                          Job. Hark! the hunters and the merry horns
are abroad. Why, Nell, you lazy jade,'tis break
AIR.                      of day; to work, to work; come,. and spin, you
In Bath a wanton wife did dwell,       drab, or I'll tan your hide for you. What a
As Chaucer he did write,             plague, must 1 be at work two hours before you
Who wantonly did spend her time        in the morning?
In many a fond delight.                Lady L. Why, Sirrah, thou impudent villain
All on a -time so sick she was,        dost thou not know me, you rogue-?
And she at lenth did die;,             Job. Know you, yes I know vou well enough,
And then her soul at Paradise
A-nd then her soul at Paradise       and I'll make you know ame before T have done
Did knock most mightily.
with you.
Lady L. Why, villain, rascal, screech.owl, who    Lady L. I am Sir John Lover'ule's lady, how
makest a worse noise than a dog hung in the came I here?.ples, or a hog in a high wind,-where are all my    Job. Sir John Loverule's lady t no Nell, not




112                        THE DEVIL TO PAY.                                [SCENE VL
quite s, bad neither; she plagues every one that   Lucy. Oh, no, I'm  overjoyed: she's in the
comes near her-the whole country curses her.   kindest humour!-Go to the bed, and speak to
Lady L. Nay, then I'll hold no longer-you her-Now is your time.    [Apart to LE'rTICE.
rogue, you insolent villain, I'll teach you better   Let. Now's my time! what, to have another
manners.                                     tooth beat out  [Apart.] Madam!
[Flings the bedstaff and other things at him.   Nell. What dost say, my dear -O  father
Job. This is more than ever I saw by her. I What would she have? 
never had an ill word from her before. Come,   Let. What work will your ladyship please to
strap, I'll try your mettle; I'll sober you, I war- have done to-day?
rant you, quean.                               Nell. Work, child!'tis holiday; no work to[He straps her; she flies at him. day.
Lady L. I'll pull your throat out; I'll tear out   Let. Oh, mercy! Am I or thee awake? or do
your eyes; I am a lady, Sirrah. 0 murder! we both dream?-Here's a blessed change?
murder! Sir John Loverule will hang you for                               [Apart to LucY.
this. Murder! murder!                          Lucy. If it continues, we shall be a happy
Job. Come, hussy, leave fooling, and come to family.                 [Apart to LETTICE.
your spinning, or else I'll lamb you, you never   Let. Your ladyship's chocolate is ready.
were so lambed since you were an inch long.   Nell. Mercy on me! what's that? Some garTake it up you jade.                         ment, I suppose. [Aside.] Put it on then, sweet[She flings it down..Fle straps her. heart.
Lady L. Hold, hold! I'll do any thing.       Let. Put it on, Madam? I have taken it off;
Job. O! I thought I should bring you to your-'tis ready to drink.
self again.                                    Nell. I mean, put it by; I don't care for drinkLady L. What shall I do?  I can't spin.  ing now.
[Aside.
Job. I'll into my stall;'tis broad day now.              Enter COOK.
[Works and sings.] Hey-day, I think the jade's
brain is turned. What, have you forgot to spin,   Cook. Now I go, like a bear to the stake, to
hussy 2                                      know her scurvy ladyship's commands about dinLadyL. But I have not forgot to run. I'll ner. How many rascally names must I be called?
een try my feet. I shall find somebody in the                                     [Aside.
town, sure, that will succour me. [She runs out.   Let. Oh, John Cook! you'll be out of your.Job. What! does she run for it?-I'll after her. wit to find my lady in so sweet a temper.
[He runs out.                             [Apart to CooK.
Cook. What a devil, are they all mad?
SCENE  VI.-SIR JOHN LOVERULE'S House.                                 [Apart to LETTICE.
NELL discovered in Bed.             Lucy. Madam, here's the cook come about
Nell. What pleasant dreams I have had to- dinner.
night! Methought I was in Paradise, upon a bed   Nell. Oh! there's a fine cook! He looks like
of violets and roses, and the sweetest husband by one of your gentlefolks. [Aside.]-Indeed, homy side! Ha, bless me! where am  I now? nest man, I'm very hungry now, pray get me a
What sweets are these 1 No garden in the spring rasher upon the coals, a piece of milk cheese, and
can equal them.-Am I on a bed?-The sheets some white bread.
are sarcenet, sure; no linen ever was so fine.-   Cook. Hey! what's to do here? my head turns
What a gay silken robe have I got-O heaven! round. Honest man! I looked for rogue and
I dream!-Yet if this be a dream, I would not rascal, at least. She's strangely changed in her
wish to wake again. Sure I died last night and diet, as well as her humour. [Aside.]-I'm afraid,
went to heaven, and this is it.              Madam, cheese and bacon will sit very heavy on
Enter LUCY.                  your ladyship's stomach in a morning. If you
please, Madam, I'll toss you up a white fricassee
Lucy. Now, must I awake an alarum that will of chickens, in a trice, Madam; or what does
not lie still again till midnight at soonest; the first your ladyship think of a veal sweetbread?
greeting I suppose will be jade, or slut. [Aside.]   Nell. Even what you will, good cook.
-Madam! madam!                                 Cook. Good cook! good cook! Ah!'tis a
YVll. O gemini! who's this? What dost say, sweet lady.                        [Apa rt.
sweetheart?
Luicy. Sweetheart!  0 lud, sweetheart! The               Enter BUTLER.
best names 1 have had these three months from
Oh! kiss me, chip, I am out of my wits-We
her, have been slut or jade. [Aside.]-What gown have the kindest, sweetest lady.
and ruffles will your ladyship wear to-day?                             [Apart to BUTLER.
VNell. What does she mean? Ladyship! gown   But. You shamming rogue, I think you are
asnd ruffles -Sure I am awake! —Oh! I remera-.and ruffles!-Sure I am awake!-Oh! 1 remem- out of your wits, all of ye; the maids look merher the cunning man, now.Apart to COOK
Lucy. Did your ladyship speakr  t.
L ucy. Did your laship speak1' 1             Lucy. Here's the butler, Madam, to know
VNell. Ay, child; I'll wear the same I did yes-  lady.hip's orders.
~ter  ~~~day.~'yourladyship's orders.
terday.                                        Nell. Oh! pray, Mr. Butler, let me have some'Lucy. Mercy upon me!-Child!-Here's a
miracle!                           [A. small beer when my breakfast comes in.
miracle                              [ CAside.   But. Mr. Butler! Mr. Butler! I shall be
Enter LETTICE.                turned into stone with amazement. [Aside.jLet. Is my lady awake?-Have you had her Would not your ladyship rather have a glass of
shole or her slipper at your head yet?      Frontiniac, or Montepulchiano.
[Apart to Lucy.   Nell. 0 dear! what hard names are there;




SCENE VI.]                   THE DEVIL TO PAY.                                       113
out I must not betray myself. [Aside.]-Well,   Sir J. My dear, I am overjoyed to see my fawhich you please, Mr. Butler.                 mily thus transported with ecstacy, which you
have occasioned!
Enter COACHMAN.                    Nell. Sir, I shall always be proud to do every
But. Go, get you in, and he rejoiced, as I am. thing that may give you delight, or your family
[Apart to COACHMAN. satisfaction.
Coach. The cook has been making his game    Sir J. By heaven I am charmed!-Dear creaI know not how long. What,do you banter too? ture, if thou continuest thus, I had rather enjoy
[Apart to BUTLER. thee than the Indies. But can this be real.Lucy. Madam, the coachman.                  May I believe my senses?
Coach. I come to know if your ladyship goes   Nell. All that's good above can witness fbr
out to-day, and which you'll have, the coach or me, I am in earnest.                [Kneels.
chariot.                                         Sir J. Rise, my dearest.-Now  am  I happy
Nell. Good lack-a-day!-I'll ride in the coach, indeed.
if you please.
Coach. The sky will fall, that's certain. [Exit.  DUET.-SIR JOHN LOVERULE and NELL.
Nell. I can hardly think I am awake yet. How    Sir J. Was ever man possess'd of
well-pleased they all seem to wait upon me! —Oh,       So sweet, so kind a wife?
notable cunning man!-My head turns round!-    Nell. Dear Sir, you smake me proud.
I am quite giddy with my own happiness.                   Be you but kind,
And you shall find
All the good I can boast of,
Though late I was a cobbler's wife,               Shall end but with my life.
In cottage most obscure-a,              Sir J.       Give me thy lips.
In plain stuff gown, and short-ear'd coif,  Nell. First let me, dear Sir. wipe'ent.
Hard labour did endur-a.                 Sir J.  Was ever so sweet a wife?  [Kisses her
The scene is chang'd, I'm alter'd quite,  Nell.      Thank you, dear Sir.
And from poor humble Nell-a,                        I vow and protest
I'll learn to dance, to read, and write,              I ne'er was so kiss'd.
And from all bear the bell-a.  [Exit.                 Again, Sir!
Sir J. Again, and again, my dearest,
Enter SIR JOHN LOVERULE, meeting his                 0 may it last for life!
SERVANTS.                            What joy thus to eqifold thee!
But. Oh, Sir! here's the rarest news!        Nell. What pleasure to behold thee 
Lucy. There never was the like, Sir! You'll   Sir    Incnd again to kiss!
Sir J.  How ravishing the bliss!
he over-joyed and amazed!                       Nell. Ilittle thought this morning
Sir J. What, are ye mad?-What's the matter'Twoold ever come to this.    LExeunt
with ye?-How now? here's a new face in my
family!-What's the meaning of all this?                Enter LADY LOVERULE.
But. Oh, Sir! the family's turned upside-   Lady L. Here's a fine rout and rioting! You
down! We are almost distracted; the happiest Sirrah, butler, you rogue 
people!                                         But. Why, how now?  Who are you?
Lucy. Ay, my lady, Sir: my lady-              Lady L. Impudent varlet! don't you know
Sir J. What, is she dead'                  your lady?
But. Dead! heaven forbid!' -! she's the    But. Lady!-Here, turn this mad woman out
oest woman; the sweetest lady!                of doors.
Sir J This is astonishing!-I must go and    Lady L. You rascal-take that, Sirrah.
inquire into this wonder. If this be true, I shall                   [Flings a glass at him.
rejoice indeed.                                IFoot. Have a care, hussy; there's a good pump
But.'Tis true, Sir, upon my honour. Long without; we shall cool your courage for you.
live Sir John and my lady! Huzza!   [Exeunt.   Lady L. You, Lucy, have you forgot me too,
Re-enter NELL.                 you minx?
Lucy. Forgot you, woman! Why, 1 never reNell. I well remember the cunning man warn- membered you; I never saw you before in my
ed me to bear all out with confidence, or worse, life.
he said, would follow.-I am ashamed, and know    Lady L. Oh, the wicked slut! I'll give you
not what to do with all this ceremony! I am  cause to remember me, 1 will, hussy.
amazed and out of my senses!-I looked in the                      [Pulls her head-dress o.0
lass, and saw a gay fine thing I knew not!-    Lucy. Murder! nurder! help!
Methought my face was not at all like that I have
seen at home in a piece of lookilag-glass fastened    Re-enter SIR JOHN LOVERULE and NELL.
upon the cupboard. But great ladies, they say,
have flattering glasses, that show them far unlike
themselves, whilst poor folks' glasses represent   LadyL. You, Lettice, you slut! won't you
them e'en just as they are.                   know me neither                  [Strikes hes.
Let. Help! help!
Re-enter Lucy.                   Sir J. What's to do there?
Lucy. Oh, Madam! here's my master just re-   But. Why, Sir, here's a mad woman calls
turned from hunting.                          herself my lady, and is beating and cuffing us all
round.
Re-enter SIR JOHN LOVERULE.             Sir J. Thou my wife? poor creature, I pity
Nell. 0 gemini! this fine gentleman my hus- thee.-I never saw thee before.
oand!                                 [Aside.                         [To LADY LOVF.RUJL 
VOL. I.... P                1()*




114                        THE DEVIL- TO PAY.                               [scES Y.: Lady L. Then it is -in vain- to expect- redress her face: into the likeness of my lady's: and last
from:thee, thou wicked- contriver of all my misery. night, when the storm arose, my spirits conveyed
Nell. How am I amazed? Can that be I there, them to each other's bed.
in my clothes, that have made all this disturbance?   Sir J. Oh, wretch, thou hast undone me! 1
And yet: I am here, to: my thinking, in these fine am fallen from the height of all my. hopes, and
clothes. How can this be? I am so confounded must still be cursed with a tempestuous wife, a
and aftrighted, that -I begin to wish I was with. fury whom I never knew quiet since I hadl her.
Zekel Jobson again.                  [Aside. -  Doc. If that be all, 1 can continue the charm
Lady L. To whom shall I apply myself;, or for both their lives.
whither can I fly 2 —Heaven! what do I see. Is   Sir J. Let the event be what it will, I'll hang
not that 1 yonder, in my gown and petticoat I wore you, if you do not end the charm this instant.
yesterday? How can it be2! I cannot be in two    Doc. I will, this minute, Sir: and perhaps
places at once.                              you'll find it the luckiest of your life: I can assure
Sir J. Poor wretch! She's stark mad.     you, your lady will prove the better for it.
Lady L. What, in the devil's name, was I   Sir J. Hold, there's one material circumstance
here before I came?  Let me look in -the glass. I'd know.
-Oh, heavens! I am astonished! I don't know    Doc. Your pleasure, Sir?
myself!-If this be I that the glass shows me, I   Sir J. Perhaps the cobbler has-  you undernever saw myself before.                    stand me.
Sir J. What incoherent madness is this?    Doc. I do assure you, no; for ere she was conveyed to his bed, the cobbler was got up -to work,
Enter JoaSoN.                and he has done nought but beat her ever since;
Lady L. There, that's the devil in my likeness, and you are like to reap the fruits of his labour.
who has robbed me of my countenance.-He  He'll be with you in a minute. —Here he comes.
here too?
Job. Ay, hussy, and here's my strap,.you              Re-enter JOBSON.
quean r                                        Sir J. So, Jobson, where's your wife?
Nell. 0 dear! I'm afraid my husband will beat   Job. An't please your worship, she's here at
me; that man on t'other side the room there.  the door; but indeed I thought I had lost her
Job. I hope your honours will pardon her; she just now; for as she came into the hall, she fell
was drinking with a conjurer last night, and has into such a swoon, that I. thought she would never
been mad ever since, and calls herself. my Lady come out on't again; but a tweak or two by the
Loverule.:      nose, and half a dozen straps, did the business at
cSir J. Poor woman! take care of her; do not last.-Here, where are you hussy 2
hurt her; she may be cured of this.
Job. Yes, and please your worship, you shall        Re-enter LADY LOVERULE.
see me- cure her presently. —Hussy, do you see   B But. [Holds up the candle, but lets itfall when
this 2                                       he sees her.] 0 heaven and earth! is this my
-VNell. O! pray, Zekel, don't beat me!    lady 2
Sir J. What says my love?  Does she infect:  Job. What does he say? My wife changed to
thee with madness too?                      my lady?
Nell. I. am not well; pray lead me in.       Cook. Ay, I thought the other was too good for:[Exeunt NELL and MAIDS. our lady.
Job. I beseech your worship don't take it ill   Lady L. Sir, you are the person I have most
of me; she shall never trouble you more.-    offended, and here confess I have been the worst
Sir J. Take her home, and use her kindly.    of wives in every thing, but that I always kept
Lady L. What will become of me?           myself chaste. - If you can vouchsafe once more
[Exeunt JOBsoN and LADY LOVERULE. to take me to your bosom, the remainder of my
days shall joyfully be spent in duty and observance
Enter FOOTMAN.                 of your will.
Foot. Sir, the doctor who called here last night,   Sir J. Rise, Madam; I do forgive you; and if
desires you will give him leave to speak a word or you are sincere in what you say, you'll make me
two with you, upon very earnest business.   happier than all the enjoyments in the world
Sir J. WVhat can this mean? Bring him in.  without you could do.
Job. What a plague! am I to lose my wife
Enter DOCTOR,                 thus?
Doc. Lo! on my knees, Sir, I beg forgivenesse-enter L
for what I have done, and put my life into your
hands.                                        Lucy. Oh. Sir, the strangest accident has hapSir J. What mean you?.         pened-it has amazed us!-My lady was in so
Doc. I have exercised my magic art upon your great a swoon, we thought she had been dead.
lady; I know you have too much honour to take   Let. And when she came to herself, she proved
away my life, since I might still have concealed another woman.
it, had I pleased.                            Job. Ha ha ha! a bull a bull!
Sir J. You have now brought me to a glimpse
of misery too great to bear.'Is all my happiness          Re-enter NELL.
then turned into vision only... -   Nell. My head turns round; I must go home.
Doc. -Sir, 1 beg you, fear not; if any harm  O, Zekel, are you there?
comes on it, I freely give you leave to hang me.    Job. 0 lud! is that fine lady my wife? Egad,
Sir J. Inform: me what you have done.     I'm afraid to come near her. What can be the
Doc. I have transfornmed.- your lady's face so meaning of this 2
thatshe seemsthe cobbler's wife. and have charmed    Sir J. This is a happy change, and I'll have it




SCENE VI.]                   THE DEVIL TO PAY.                                      115
celebrated with all the joy I proclaimed for my Job.   I hope you'll give me leave to speak,
late short-lived vision.                               If 1 may be so bold:
Lady L, To me'tis the happiest day I ever         Nought but the devil, and this good strap,
knew.                                                  Could ever tame a scold.   [Exeunt,
Sir J. Here Jobson, take thy fine wife.
Job. But one word, Sir. - Did not your worship make a buck-of me, under the rose? 
Sir J. No, upon my honour, nor ever kissed                PROLOGUE.
her lips till I came from hunting; but since she
has been the means of bringing about this happy   SPOKEN BY MR. TEOPHILUS  IBBER.
change, I'll give thee five hundred pounds home
with her, to buy a stock of leather.         IN ancient Greece the comic muse appear'd,
Job. Brave boys! I'm a prince.-The prince Sworn foe to vice, by virtue's friends rever'd
of coblers! Come hither and kiss me, Nell; I'll Impartial she indulg'd her noble rage,
never strap thee more.                        And satire was the business of the stage.
Nell. Indeed, Zekel, I have been in such a No reigning ill was from her censure free
dream  that I'm  quite weary of it. Forsooth, No sex, no age of man, and no degree;
Madam, will you please to take your clothes, and Whoe'er by passion was, or folly, led,
let me have mine again.                       The laurell'd chief, or sacerdotal head,
[Tro LADY LOVERULE. The pedant sophist, or imperious dame,
Job. Hold your tongue, you fool, they'll serve She lash'd the evil, nor conceal'd the name.
you to go to church.         [Apart to NELL.   How hard the fate of wives in those sad times,
Lady L. No; thou shalt keep them, and I'll When saucy poets would chastise their crimes!
preserve thine as relics.                     When each cornuting mate, each rampant jilt,
Job. And can your ladyship forgive my strap- Had her name branded, on the stage, with guilt 
ping your honour so very much?                Each fair may now the comic muse endure
Lady L. Most freely. The joy of this blessed  And join the laugh, though at herself, secure.
change sets all things right again.: Link'd to a patient lord, this night behold
Sir J. Let us forget  every thing that is past, A wilful headstrong termagant, and scold:
and think of nothing now but joy and pleasure.: WYVhom, though her husband did what man could
do
The devil only could reclaim like vou:
AIR.                      Like you, whose virtues bright embellish life,
And add a blessing to the name of wife.
Lady L. Let every face with smiles appear,      A merry wag, to mend vexatious brides,
iceo iromn everfey bfpreast, andcare, These scenes begun, which shook your father's
Since, from a life of pain and care,
WTe now are truly bless'd.
Sir J.   May no remembrance of past time      And we obsequious to your taste, prolong
Our present pleasure soil;          Your mirth, by courting the supplies of song:
Be aught but mirth and joy a crime, - If you approve, we our desires obtain,
And sporting all our toi           I And by your pleasures shall compute our gain.




THE FAIR PENITENT:
A TRA.GEDY:
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY NICHOLAS ROWE.
REMARKS.
THns tragedy, founded on the Fatal Dozwry of Massinger, was produced in 1703, at the theatre in Lincoln t v -..
Fields; and is considered by Dr. Johnson, one of the most pleasing tragedies on the stage.
The story is domestic, and assimilated to common life; and the diction harmonious. The character of Lotharie
is supposed to have been expanded into Lovelace, by Richardson, in his inimitable romance of Clarissa Harlowe:
but the British fair will scarcely sympathise with Calista, for the loss of so unworthy a lover. Some critics have
observed, that the title of the play does not correspond with the behaviour of Calista, who at last shows no marks
of real contrition, (best testified by amendment,) but is still enamoured of the villanous and vain boaster, who is
the cause of her guilt.
Originally intended for the legal profession, and even called to the bar, the success of Rowe in the drama
rendered the toils of practice unnecessary; as his noble patrons conferred on him many places of honour and
emolument, in all which, it is said, he justified their choice; but alone acquired fame by his dramatic productions.
DRAMATIS PERSONJE.
LINCOLN'S-INN-FIELDS, 1703. COVENT GARDEN, 1799.   DRURY LANE, 1815.
SCIOLTO,............. Mr. Bowman...... Mr. Pope.Mr. Pope.
ALTAMONT,.           Mr. Verbruggen...   Mr. Brunton.                    Mr. }Wallack
HORATIO,.Mr. Betterton......    Mr. Betterton.......... Mr. Rae.
LOTHARIO,...........Mr. Powell........  Mr. H. Johnston..          Mr. Elliston.
ROSSANO,              Mr. Baily.........  Mr. Claremont..........       Mr. Crooke.
CALISTA,.Mrs. Barry.......  Mrs. St. Leger..........                   Miss Walstein.
LAVINIA,               Mrs. Bracegirdle...  Miss Chapman.Miss Boyce.
LUCILLA,              Mrs. Prince.......  Miss Cox.....   Miss Cooke.
Servants to Sciolto, &c.
SCENE.-Sciolto's Palace and the Garden, with some Dart of the Street near it, in Genoa.
ACT 1.                       Sciolto's noble hand, that rais'd tioe first,
Half dead and drooiiiig6ro'eithy father's grave,
SCEINE I.-A  Garden belonging to SCIOLTO'S  Completes its bounty, and restores thy name
Palace.                     To that high rank and lustre which it boasted,
Before ungrateful Genoa had forgot
Enter ATAMONT  The merit of thy god-like father's arms;
Alt. Let this auspicious day be ever sacred,  Before that country, which he long had serv'd
No mourning, no misfortunes, happen on it:      In watchful councils and in winter camps,
Let it be mark'd for triumphs and rejoicings;   Had cast off his white age to want and wretchedLet happy lovers ever make it holy,                    ness,
Choose it to bless their hopes, and crown their And made their court to factions by his ruin.
wishes.                                     Alt. Oh, great Sciolto! Oh, my more than
This happy day, that gives me my Calista.              father!
Hor Yes. Altamont; to-day thy better stars    Let me not live, but at thy very name
Are join'd to shed their kindest influence on thee; My eager heart springs up, and leaps with joy.
116




SCENE.]                   THE FAIR PENITENT.                                      117
When I forget the vast, vast debt I owe thee-    The winds, with all their wings, would be too
Forget! (but'tis impossible) then let me          slow,
Forget the use and privilege of reason,      To bear me to her feet. For, oh, my father!
Be driven from the commerce of mankind,      Amidst the stream of joy that bears me on,
To wander in the desert among brutes,        Bless'd as I am, and honour'd in your friendship,
To be the scorn of earth, and curse of heaven!   There is one pain that hangs upon my heart.
Hor. So open, so unbounded was his goodness,   Scio. What means my son?
It reach'd even me, because I was thy friend.  Alt. When, at your intercession,
When that great man I lov'd, thy noble father,   Last night, Calista yielded to my happiness,
Bequeath'd thy gentle sister to my arms,     Just ere we parted, as I seal'd my vows
His last dear pledge and legacy of friendship,  With rapture on her lips, I found her cold,
That happy tie made me Sciolto's son;       As a dead lover's statue on his tomb:
He call'd us his, and, with a parent's fondness,   A rising storm of passion shook her breast,
Indulg'd us in his wealth, bless'd us with plenty,  Her eyes a piteous shower of tears let fall,
Heal'd all our cares, and sweeten'd love itself.    And then she sigh'd as if her heart was breaking.
Alt. By heaven, he found my fortunes so With all the tend'rest eloquence of love
abandon'd,                             I begg'd to be a sharer in her grief:
That nothing but a miracle could raise'em:  But she, with looks averse, and eyes that froze
My father's bounty, and the state's ingratitude,   me,
Had stripp'd him bare, nor left him even a grave. Sadly replied, her sorrows were her own,
Undone myself, and sinking with his ruin,    Nor in a father's power to dispose of.
I had no wealth to bring, nothing to succour him,   Sci. Away! it is the coz'nage of their sex;
But fruitless tears.                         One of their common arts they practise on us:
Hor. Yet what thou couldst thou did'st,    To sigh and weep then when their hearts beat
And did'st it like, a son; when his hard credi-    high
Urg'd and assisted by Lothario's father,   [tors, With expectation of the coming joy.  [bred,
(Foe to thy house, and rival of thy greatness,)    Thou hast in camps and fighting fields been
By sentence of the cruel law forbade         Unknowing in the subtleties of women;
His venerable corpse to rest in earth,       The virgin bride, who swoons with deadly fear,
Thdu gav'st thyself a ransom for his bones;  To see the end of all her wishes near,
Heaven, who beheld the pious act, approv'd it.    When, blushing, from the light and public eyes,
And bade Sciolto's bounty be its proxy,      To the kind covert of the night she flies,
To bless thy filial virtue with abundance.   With equal fires to meet the bridegroom moves,
Alt. But see, he comes, the author of my hap- Melts in his arms, and with a loose she loves.
piness,                                                                   [Exeunt.
The man who sav'd my life from deadly sorrow,       Enter LOTHARIO and ROSSANO.
Who bids my days be bless'd with peace and    Loth. The father, and the husband!
plenty,                                  Ros. Let them pass.
And satisfies my soul with love and beauty.  They saw us not.
Enter ScIOLTO; he embraces ALTAMONT.        Loth. I care not if they did;
Ere long I mean to meet'em face to face
Sci. Joy to thee, Altamont! joy to myself!  And gall'em with my triumph o'er Calista.
Joy to this happy morn, that makes thee mine;  Ros. You lov'd her once.
That kindly grants what nature had denied me,    Loth. I lik'd her, would have married her,
And makes me father of a son like thee.      But that it pleas'd her father to refuse me,
Alt. My father! Oh, let me unlade my breast,  To make this honourable fool her husband,
Pour out the fulness of my soul before you:  For which, if I forget him. may the shame
Show every tender, every grateful thought,   I mean to brand his name with, stick on mine.
This wondrous goodness stirs. But'tis im-    Ros. She, gentle soul, was kinder than her
possible,                                    father.
And utterance all is vile; since I can only    Loth. She was, and oft in private gave me
Swear you reign here, but never tell how much.     hearing;
Sci. 0, noble youth! I swear, since first I Till, by long list'ning to the soothing tale,
knew thee,                            At length her easy heart was wholly mine.
Even from that day of sorrow when I saw thee   Ros. I've heard you oft describe her, haughty,
Adorn'd and lovely in thy. filial tears,          insolent,                     [wonder,
The mourner and redeemer of thy father,      And fierce with high disdain: it moves my
I set thee down and seal'd thee for my own:  That virtue, thus defended, should be yielded
Thou art my son, even near me as Calista.    A prey to loose desires.
Horatio and Lavinia too are mine:              Loth. Hear then, I'll tell thee:
[Embraces HOR. Once, in a lone and secret hour of night,
All are my children, and shall share my heart.   When every eye was closed, and the pale moorn
But wherefore waste we thus this happy day   - And stars alone shone conscious of the theft,
The laughing minutes summon thee to joy,     Hot with the Tuscan grape, and high in blood,
And with new  pleasures court thee as they  Hap'ly I stole unheeded to her chamber.
pass:                          [ing,    Ros. That minute sure was lucky.
Thy waiting bride even chides thee for delay-   Loth. Oh,'twas great!
And swears thou com'st not with a bridegroom's  I found the fond, believing, love-sick maid,
haste.                                 Loose, unattir'd, warm, tender, full of wishes;
Alt. Oh! could I hope there was one thought Fierceness and pride, the guardians of her
of Altamont,                                 honour,                      Lwaking.
One kind remembrance in Calista's breast,    Were charm'd to rest and love atone was.




118                       THE ]'AIR PENITENT.                                  -[Aar!.
Within her rising bosom all was calm,          And must we love again? perhaps she means
As peaceful seas that know no storms, and only   To treat in juncture with her new ally,
Are gently lifted up and down by tides.        And make her husband party to th' agreemen,.
I snatch'd the glorious, golden opportunity,     Luc. Is this well done, my lord. have you
And with prevailing youthful ardour press'd her;     put off
Till, with short sighs. and murmuring reluctance, All sense of human nature? keep a little,
The yielding fair one gave me perfect happiness. A little pity to distinguish manhood;  [you.
Even all the live-long night we pass'd in bliss.    Lest other men, though cruel, should disclaim"
In ecstasies too fierce to last for ever;     And judge you to be number'd with the brutes.
At length the morn and cold indiff'rence came:   Loth. 1 see thou'st learn'd -to rail.
When, fully sated with the luscious banquet,     Luc. I've learn'd to weep.
I hastily took leave, and left the nymph  That lesson my sad mistress ofien gives me:
To think on what was past, and sigh alone.    By day she seeks some melancholy shade
Ros. You saw her soon again   To hide her sorrows from the.prying world;
Loth. Too soon I saw her:                   At night she watches, all the long, long hours,
For, oh! that meeting was not like the former:  -And listens to the winds and beating rain,.
I found my heart no more beat high with transport, With sighs as loud, and tears that fall as fast.
No more I sigh'd and languish'd for enjoyment;  Then ever and anon she wrings her hands,'Twas past, and reason took her turn to reign,    And cries, False, false Lotharino! -
While every weakness fell'before her throne.    Loth. Oh, no more! 
Ros. What of the lady?                     I swear, thou'lt spoil thy pretty face with crying.
Loth. With uneasy fondness                  And thou hast beauty that may make thy fortune:
She hung upon me, wept, and sigh'd, and swore  Some keeping cardinal shall dote upon thee,
She was undone; talk'd of a priest andmarriage; And barter-his church treasure for thy freshness.
Of flying with me from her father's power;      Luc. What! shall. I sell my innocence and
Call'd every saint and blessed angel down,           youth,
To witness for her that she was my wife.      For wealth or titles, to perfidious man?
I started at that name.                       To man, who makes his mirth of our undoing!
Ros. What answer made you?                 The base, profess'd betrayer of our sex!
Loth. None; but, pretending sudden pain and Let me grow old in all misfortunes else,
illness,                                Rather than know the sorrows of Calista!
tscap'd the persecution.  Two nights since,     Loth. Does she send thee to chide in her behalf 
By message urg'd, and frequent importunity,   I swear thou dost it with so good-a grace,
Again I saw her. Straight with tears and sighs, That I could almost love thee for thy frowning.
With swelling breasts, with swooning and dis-   Luc. Read there, my lord, there, in her owra
traction,                                     sad lines,              [Giving a letter.
With all the subtleties and powerful arts     Which best can tell the story of her woes,
Of wilful woman, lab'ring for her purpose,    That grief of heart which your unkindness gives
Again she told the same dull, nauseous tale.         her.
Unmov'd, I begg'd her spare th' ungratefulsubject,   Loth.' [Reads.] Your cruelty-Obedience to
Since I resolv'd, that love and peace of mind  my father -Give my hand to Altamont.
Might flourish long inviolate betwixt us,     By heaven,'tis well! such ever be the gifts
Never to load it with the marriage chain;     With which I greet the man whom  my soul
That I would still retain her in my heart,           hates.                          [Aside.
My ever gentle mistress and my friend;.      But to go on-wish-heart-honour-too faithBut for those other names of wife and husband,  less —weakness-to-morrow —last trouble-lost
They only meant ill nature, cares, and quarrels.  Calistca.
Ros. How bore she this reply?              Women, I see, can change as.well as men.
Loth. At first her rage was dumb, and wanted  She writes me here, forsaken as I am,
words;                           [loud; That I should bind my brows with mournful
But when the storm found way,'twas wild and         willow,
Mad as the priestess of the Delphic god,      For she has given her hand'to Altamont:
Enthusiastic passion swell'd her breast,      Yet tell the fair inconstant —
Enlarg'd her voice, and ruffled all her form    Luc. How, my lord!
Proud, and disdainful of the love I proffer'd-  Loth. Nay, no more angry words: say to
She call'd me, villain! monster! base betrayer!   Calista,                         [sure;
At last, in very bitterness of soul,          The humblest of her slaves shall wait her plea-'With deadly imprecations on herself,         If she can leave her happy husband's arms,
She vow'd severely ne'er to see me more;      To think upon so lost a thing as I am.
Then bid me fly this minute; I obey'd,          Luc. Alas! for pity come with gentler looks:
And, bowing, left her to grow cool at leisure.  Wound not her heart with this unmanly triRos. She has relented since, else why this         umph;
message,                                And though you love her not, yet swear you do:
To meet the keeper of her secrets here        So shall dissembling once be virtuous in you.
T'his morning?                                 Loth. Ha! who comes here?
Loth. See the person whom you nam'd.          Luc. The bridegroom's friend, Horatio.
He must not see us here. To-morrow early
Be at the garden gate.
Well, my ambassadress, what must we treat of?    Loth. Bear to my love                 [her.
Come you to menace war and proud defiance,    My kindest thoughts, and swear I will not fail
Or does the peaceful olive grace your message?     [LOTH, putting up the letter hastily, drops
Is vour fair mistress calmer? does she soften?         it; Exeunt.




SCENE I.]                 THE FAIR PENITENT.                                       119
Enter HORATIO.                  Hor. Seek not to know what I would hide
Hor. Sure,'tis the very error of my eyes.     4from all,
Waking I dream, or I beheld Lothario;       But most from thee. I never knew a. pleasure,
He seem'd conferring with Calista's woman:   Aught that was joyful, fortunate, or good,
At my approach they started and retir'd.     But straight I ran to bless thee with the tidings,
What business could he have here, and with her'  And laid up all my happiness with thee:
I know he bears the noble Altamont           But wherefore, wherefore should I give thee pain.
Profess'd and deadly hate —What paper's this'  Then spare me, I conjure thee; ask no further;
Ha! To Lothario!-'Sdeath! Calista's name!   Allow my melancholy thoughts this privilege,
[Reads. And let'em brood in secret o'er their sorrows.
Your cruelty has at length determined me;   Layv. It is enough; chide not, and allis well!
and Ihave resolved this morning to yield a perfect Forgive me if I saw you sad, Horatio,
obedience to my father, and to give my hand to And ask'd to weep out part of your misfortunes;
Altamont, in spite of my weakness for the false  I wo' not press to know what you forbid me.
Lothario. Icould almost wish I had that heart Yet, my lov'd lord, yet you must grant me this,
and that honour to bestow wtith it, which, you, 1 Forget your cares for this one happy day,
have robbed me of *                          Devote this day to mirth, and to your Altamont;
Damnation! to the rest-                   For his dear sake, let peace be in your looks.
But, oh! -Ifear; could I retrieve'em, 1should Even now  the jocund bridegroom waits your
again be undone by the too faithless, yet too lovely  wishes.
Lothario.  This is the last weakness qf my pen, He thinks the priest has but half bless'd his
and to-morrow. shall be the last in which I will   marriage,
indulge my eyes. Lucilla shall conduct you, if Till his friend hails him with the sound of joy.
you are kind enough, to let me see you: it shall   Hor. Oh, never, never, never! Thou art inbe the last trouble you shall meet withfrom the lost  nocent;
CALISTA.   Simplicity from ill, pure native truth,
The lost indeed! for thou art gone as far    And candour of the mind, adorn thee ever;
As there can be perdition. Fire and sulphur!   But there are such, such false ones, in the world,
Hell is the sole avenger of such crimes.'Twould fill thy gentle soul with wild amazement,
Oh, that the ruin were but all thy own!     To hear their story told.
Thou wilt even make thy father curse his age:  Lay. False ones, my lord!
At sight of this black scroll, the gentle Altamont   Hor. Fatally fair they are, and in their smiles
(For, oh! I know his heart is set upon thee)  The graces, little loves, and young desires inShall droop and hang his discontented head,        habit;
Like merit scorn'd by insolent authority,    But all that gaze upon'em are undone;
And never grace the public with his virtues —    For they are false, luxurious in their appetites,
VVhat if I give this paper to her father 2   And all the heaven they hope for is variety:
It follows that his justice dooms her dead,  One lover to another still succeeds,
And breaks his heart with sorrow; hard return   Another, and another after that,
For all the good his hand has heap'd on us!  And the last fool is welcome as the fornler;
Hold, let me take a moment's thought-        Till, having lov'd his hour out, he gives place,
And mingles with the herd that went before him,.
Enter LAVINIA.                  Lav. Can there be such, and have they: peace
Lav. My lord!                                    of mind' 
Trust me it joys my heart that I have found you. Have they, in all the series of their changing,
Inquiring wherefore you had left the company,   One happy hour' If women are such things,
Before my brother's nuptial rites were ended,    How was I form'd so different from my sex?
They told me you had felt some sudden illness.   My little heart is satisfy'd with you;
Hor. It Were unjust-No, letme spare my friend, You take up all her room as in a cottage
Lock up the fatal secret in my breast,       Which harbours some benighted princely stranger,
Nor tell him that which will undo his quiet.  Where the good man, proud of his hospitality,
Lay. What means my lord?                  Yields all his homely dwelling to his guest,
Heor. Ha! said'st thou, my Lavinia?       And hardly keeps a corner for himself.
Lay. Alas! you know not what you make me   Hor. Oh, were they all like thee, men would
suffer.                         [eyes        adore'em,
Whence is that sigh? And wherefore are your And all the business of their lives be loving;
Severely rais'd to heaven' The sick man thus,  The nuptial band should be the pledge of peace,
Acknowledging the summons of his fate,       And all domestic cares and quarrels cease!
Lifts up his feeble hands and eyes for mercy,  The world should learn to love by virtuous rules,
And with confusion thinks upon his exit.     And marriage be no more the jest of fools.
Hor. Oh, no! thou hast mistook my sickness                                    [Exeunt.
quite:                                                  ACT II.
These pangs are of the soul. Would I had met
Sharpest convulsions, spotted pestilence,                SCENE I. —A Hall.
Or any other deadly foe to life,
Rather than heave beneath this load of thought.      Enter CALISTA and LUCILLA.
Lay. Alas! what is it? Wherefore turn you    Cal. Be dumb for ever, silent as the grave;
from me?                             Nor let thy fond, officious love disturb
Why did you falsely call me your Lavinia,    My solemn sadness with the sound of joy.
And swear I was Horatio's better -half,      If thou wilt sooth me, tell some dismal tale
Since now you mourn unkindly by yourself,    Of pining discontent, and black despair:
And rob me of my partnership of sadness.?    For, oh! I'vegone around through all my thoughts,




120                       THE FAIR PENITENT.                                    [ACT n.
But all are indignation, love, or shame,     Calista is the mistress of the year;
And my dear peace of mind is lost for ever.   She crowns the seasons with auspicious beauty,
Luc. Why do you follow still that wand'ring And bids even all my hours be good and joyful.
fire,                            [you    Cal. If I were ever mistress of such happiness,
That has misled your weary sttps, and leaves Oh! wherefore did I play th' unthrifty fool,
Benighted in a wilderness of wo;              And, wasting all on others, leave myself
That false Lothario! Turn from the deceiver;   Without one thought ofjoy to give me comfort?
Turn, and behold where gentle Altamont          Alt. Oh, mighty love! Shall that fair face
Sighs at your feet, and woos you to be happy.       profane
Cal. Away! I think not of him. My sad soul This thy great festival with frowns and sadness?
Has form'd a dismal, melancholy scene,       I swear it sha'not be, for I will woo thee
Such a retreat as I would wish to find;      With sighs so moving, with so warm a transAn unfrequented vale, o'ergrown with trees          port,
Mossy and old, within whose lonesome shade   That thou shalt catch the gentle flame from me,
Ravens and birds ill-omen'd only dwell:      And kindle into joy.
No sound to break the silence, but a brook      Cal. I tell thee, Altamont,
That bubbling winds among the weeds: no mark  Such hearts as ours were never pair'd above:
Of any human shape that had been there,      Ill suited to each other: join'd, not match'd;
Unless a skeleton of some poor wretch,       Some sullen influence, a foe to both,
Who had long since, like me, by love undone,    Has wrought this fatal marriage to undo us.
Sought that sad place out to despair and die in.   Mark but the frame and temper of our minds,
Luc. Alas, for pity!                       How very much we differ. Even this day,
C'al. There I fain would hide me  [shame; That fills thee with such ecstacy and transport,
From  the base world, from malice, and from  To me brings nothing that should make me
For'tis the solemn counsel of my soul             bless it,
Never to live with public loss of honour:    Or think it better than the day before,'Tis fix'd to die, rather than bear the insolence    Or any other in the course of time,
Of each affected she that tells my story,    That duly took its turn, and was forgotten.
And blesses her good stars that she is virtuous.  Alt. If to behold thee as my pledge of happi.
To be a tale for fobols! Scorn'd by the women,    ness,
And pitied by the men! Oh, insupportable!    To know none fair, none excellent, but thee;
Luc. Oh, hear me, hear your ever faithful If still to love thee with unwearied constancy,
creature!                             Through every season, every change of life,
By all the good I wish, by all the ill       Be worth the least return of grateful love,
My trembling heart forebodes, let me entreat you  Then let my Calista bless this day
Never to see this faithless man again;       And set it down for happy.
Let me forbid his coming.                       Cal.'Tis the day
Cal. On thy life                           In which my father gave my hand to Altamont;
I charge thee, no: my genius drives me on;   As such, I will remember it for ever.
I must, I will behold him once again;
Perhaps it is the crisis of my fate,              Enter ScoITo, HORATIO, and LAVINIA.
And this one interview shall end my cares.
My lab'ring heart, that swells with indignation,  Sci. Let mirth go on, let pleasure know no
Heaves to discharge the burden; that once done,     pause,
The busy thing shall rest within its cell,   But fill up every minute of this day.
And never beat again.'Tis yours, my children, sacred to your loves;
Luc. Trust not to that:                    The glorious sun himself for you looks gay;
Rage is the shortest passion of our souls:   He shines for Altamont and for Calista.
Like narrow brooks that rise with sudden showers, Let there be music, let the master touch
It swells in haste, and falls again as soon;  The sprightly string and softly breathing flute,
Still as it ebbs the softer thoughts flow in,  Till harmony rouse every gentle passion;
And the deceiver, love, supplies its place.  Teach the cold maid to lose her fears in love
Cal. I have been wrong'd enough to arm my And the fierce youth to languish at her feet.
temper                                 Begin: even age itself is cheer'd with music;
Against the smooth delusion; but, alas!     It wakes a glad remembrance of our youth,
(Chide not my weakness, gentle maid, but pityme) Calls back past joys, and warms us into trans
A woman's softness hangs about me still;            port.                         [Musie.
Then let me blush, and tell thee all my folly.  Take care my gates be open, bid all welcome;
I swear I could not see the dear betrayer    All who rejoice with me to-day are friends:
Kneel at my feet and sigh to be forgiven,    Let each indulge his genius, each be glad,
But my relenting heart would pardon all,     Jocund, and free, and swell the feast with mirth;
And quite forget'twas he that had undone me.   The sprightly bowl shall cheerfully go round,
[Exit Luc. None shall be grave, nor too severely wise;
Ha! Altamont! Calista, now be wary,         Losses and disappointments, cares and poverty,
And guard thy soul's excesses with dissembling: The rich man's insolence, and great man's scorn,
Nor let this hostile husband's eyes explore  In wine shall be forgotten all. To-morrow
The warring passions and tumultuous thoughts  Will be too soon to think and to be wretched.
That rage within thee, and deform thy reason.   Oh grant, ye powers, that I may see these happy|
[Pointing to ALTAMONT and CALIST
Enter ALTAMONT.                 Completely bless'd, and I have life enough.
Alt Be gone, my cares, I give you to the winds, And leave the rest indifferently to fate.
Far to be borne, far from the happy Altamont;                                    [Exeunt.




SCENE II.]                 THE FAIR PENITENT.                                     121
/or. What if, while all are here intent on    Hor. The brave,'tis true, do never shun the
revelling,                                  light;
I privately went forth, and sought Lothario.  Just are their thoughts, and open are their
This letter may be forg'd! perhaps the wanton-     tempers,
ness                                  Still are they found in the fair face of day,
Df his vain youth, to stain a lady's fame;  And heaven and men are judges of their actions.
Perhaps his malice, to disturb my friend.     Loth. Such let'em be of mine; there's not a
Oh, no! my heart forbodes it must be true.        purpose
Methought, even now, 1 mark'd the starts of Which my soul e'er fram'd, or my hand acted,
guilt                          [lation But I could well have bid the world look on,
That shook her soul; though damn'd dissimu- And what I once durst do, have dar'd to justify.
Screen'd her dark thoughts, and set to public   Hor. Where was this open boldness, this free
view                                        spirit,
A specious face of innocence and beauty.     When but this very morning I surpris'd thee,
With such smooth looks and many a gentle In base dishonest privacy, consulting
word,                                 And bribing a poor mercenary wretch,
The first fair she beguil'd her easy lord;   To sell her lady's secrets, stain her honour,
Too blind with love and beauty to beware,   And, with a forg'd contrivance, blast her virtue?
He fell unthinking in the fatal snare;       At sight of me thou fled'st.
Nor could believe that such a heavenly face    Loth. Ha! fled from thee?
Had bargain'd with the devil to damn her wretch-   Hor. Thou fled'st, and guilt was on thee like a
ed race.                       [Exit.       thief,
A pilferer, descried in some dark corner
SCENE II.-The Garden of ScIOLTo's Palace. Who there had lodg'd, with mischievous intent,
Enter LOTHARIO and ROssANO.          To rob and ravage at the hour of rest,
And do a midnight murder on the sleepers.
Loth. To tell thee then the purport of my   Loth. Slave! villain!      [Offers to draw.
thoughts;.Ros. Hold, my lord! think where you are,
The loss of this fond paper would not give me    Think how unsafe and hurtful to your honour
A moment of disquiet, were it not  It were to urge a quarrel in this place,
My instrument of vengeance on this Altamont;  And shock the peaceful cit with a broil.
And shock the peaceful city with a broil.
Therefore I mean to wait some opportunity     Loth. Then, since thou dost provoke my venOf speaking with the maid we saw this morning.     geance, know
Ros. I wish you, Sir, to think upon the danger I would not, for this city's wealth, for all
Of being seen; to-day their friends are round'em; Which the sea wafts to our Ligurian shore
And any eye that lights by chance on you,    But that the joys I reap'd with that fond wanton,
Shall put your life and safety to the hazard.  The wife of Altamont, should be as public
[Exeunt. As is the noon-day sun, air, earth, or water
Enter HORATIO.                 Or any common benefit of nature.
Think'st thou I meant that shame should be con11cr. Still I must doubt some mystery of mis-    ceal'd?
chief,
Some artifice beneath. Lothario's father!    Oh, no! by hell and vengeance, all I wanted
I knew him well; he was sagacious, cunning,    Was some fit messenger, to bear the news
Fluent in words, and bold in peaceful counsels,   To the dull doting husband: now I have found
But of a cold, unactive hand in war;        And thou art he.
Yet with these coward's virtues, he undid     Hr. I hold thee
My unsuspecting, valiant, honest friend.
My unsuspecting, valiant, honest friend.    To break through law, and spurn at sacred order,
This son, if fame mistakes not, is more hot,  And do           a brutal injury like this.
And do a brutal injury like this.
More open and unartful —
Yet mark me well, young lord, I think Calista
Re-enter LOTHARIO and ROssANO.        Too nice, too noble, and too great of soul,
To be the prey of such a thing as thou art.
Ha! he's here!                 [Seeing him.'Twas base and poor, unworthy of a man,
Loth. Damnation! he again!-This second To forge a scroll so villanous and loose,
time                                  And mark it with a noble lady's name;
To-day he has cross'd me like my evil genius.    These are the mean, dishonest arts of cowards,
Hor. I sought you, Sir.                   Who, bred at home in idleness and riot,
Loth.'Tis well then I am found.          Ransack for mistresses th' unwholesome stew
Hor.'Tis well you are. The man who wrongs And never know the worth of virtuous love.
my friend                               Loth. Think'st thou I forg'd the letter I
To the earth's utmost verge I would pursue.          Think so still,
No place, though e'er so holy, should protect him; Till the broad shame come staring in thy face,
No shape that artful fear e'er form'd should hide And boys shall hoot the cuckold as he passes.
him,                                    Hor. Away! no woman could descend so low.
Till he fair answer made, and did me justice.  A skipping, dancing, worthless tribe you are;
Loth. Ha! dost thou know me  that I am  Fit only for yourselves, you herd together;
Lothario?                             And when the circling glass warms your vain
As great a name as this proud city boasts of.      hearts,
Who is this mighty man, then, this Horatio,  You talk of beauties that you never saw,
That I should basely hide me from his anger,    And fancy raptures that you never knew.
Lest he should chide me for his friend's displea-   Loth. But that I do not hold it worth my
sure?                                      leisure,
VOL. I.....Q        11                          l




i22                      THE FAIR PE NIT-ENT                                 [ACT III.
I could produce such damning proof-         Or I must force you hence.
Her.'Tis false!                            Loth. This wo' not brook delay;
You blast the fair with lies, because they scorn West of the town a mile, among the rocks,.
you,        l                         Two hours ere noon, to-morrow. I expect thee,
-Hate you like age, like ugliness and impotence;  Thy single hand to mine.
Rather than make you bless'd, they would die   Hor I'll meet thee there.
virgins,                                Loth. To-morrow, oh, my better stars! toAnd stop the propagation of mankind.               morrow
Loth. It is the curse of fools to be-secure,  Exert your influence; shine strongly for me;
And that be thine and Altamont's.  Dream on;'Tis not a common conquest I would gain,
Nor think upon my vengeance till thou feel'st it. Since love as well as arms must grace my triHor. Hold, Sir; another word, and then fare-     umph.   
well.                                             [Exeunt LOTHARIO and ROSSANO,
Though I think greatly of Calista's virtue,   Hor. Two hours ere noon to-morrow! ha! ere
And hold it far beyond thy power to hurt-         that
Yet, as she shares the honour of my Altamont,   He sees Calista! Oh, unthinking foolThat: treasure of a soldier, bought with blood,    What if I urg'd her with the crime and danger?
And kept at life's expense, I must not have  If any spark from heaven remain unquench'd
(Mark me, young Sir) her very name profan'd.  Within her breast, my breath:perhaps may wake
Learn to restrain the license of your speech;     it.'Tis held you are too lavish. When you are met; Could I but prosper there, I would not doubt
Among your set of fools, talk of your dress,  My combat with that loud vainglorious boaster.
Of dice, of whores, of horses, and yourselves;  Were you, ye fair, but cautious whom ye trust'Tis safer, and becomes your understandings.    Did you but think how seldom fools are just,
Loth. What if we pass beyond this solemn So many of your sex would not in vain
order,                                Of broken vows, and faithless men, complain;
And, in defiance of the stern Horatio,      Of all the various wretches love has made,
Indulge our gayer thoughts, let laughter loose,    How few have been by men of sense betray'd?
And use his sacred friendship for our mirth.  Convinc'd by reason, they your power confess,
Her.'Tis well, Sir, you are pleasant-     Pleas'd to be happy, as you're pleas'd to bless,
Loth. By the joys                         And, conscious of your worth, can never love you
Which my soul yet has uncontrol'd pursu'd,         less.                          [Exit
I would not turn aside from my least pleasure,
Though all thy force were arm'd to bar my way;               ACT I[I.
But, like the birds, great nature's happy commoners,                                  SCENE I.-An Apartment in SCIOLTO'S
That haunt i-n woods, in meads, and flowery                    Palace.
gardens,
Rifle the sweets, and taste the choicest fruits,    Enter SCIOLTo and CALISTA.
Yet scorn to ask the lordly owner's leave.    Scio. Now, by my- life, my honour,'tis too
Hor. What liberty has vain presumptuous          much!
youth,                                Have I not mark'd thee, wayward as thou art
That thou should'st dare provoke me unchastis'd?  Perverse and sullen all this day of joy? 
But henceforth, boy, I warn thee, shun my walks.: When every heart was cheer'd, and mirth went
If in the bounds of this forbidden place          round,
Again thou'rt found, expect a punishment,    Sorrow, displeasure, and repining anguish,
Such as great souls, impatient of an injury,  Sat on thy brow.
Exact from those who wrong'em much; even    Cal. Is then the task of duty half perform'd?
death,                                Has not your daughter given herself to Altamont,
Or something worse: an injur'd husband's ven- Yielded the native freedom of her will
geance                                To an imperious husband's lordly rule,
Shall print a thousand wounds, tear thy fine form, To gratify a father's stern command?
And scatter thee to all the winds of heaven.  Sci. Dost thou complain?
Loth. Is then my way in Genoa prescrib'd     Cal. For pity, do not frownthen,
By a dependent on the wretched Altamont.   If, in despite of all my vow'd obedience,
A talking Sir, that brawls for him in taverns,    A sigh breaks out, or a tear falls by chance:
And vouches for his valour's reputation?   For, oh! that sorrow which has drawn your anger,
Hor. Away! thy speech is fouler than thy Is the sad native of Calista's breast.
manners.                                Sci. Now by the sacred dust of that dear saint
Loth. Or, if there be a name more vile, his That was thy mother; by her wondrous goodparasite;                                   ness,
A beggar's parasite!                       Her soft, her tender, most complying sweetness,
Her. Now learn humanity,                  I swear, some sullen thought that shuns the light,
[Offers to strike him: ROSSANO interposes. Lurks underneath that sadness in thy visage.
Since brutes and boys are only taught with blows. But mark me well, though by yon heaven I love
Loth. Damnation!             [ They draw.        thee
Ros. Hold, this goes no further here.      As much, I think, as a fond parent can;
Loth. Oh, Rossano!                        Yet shouldst thou (which the powers above
Or give me way, or thou'rt no more my friend.      forbid,)
Re, Sciolto's servants, Sir, have taken'th' E'er stain the honour of thy name with infamy,
alarm;                                I'll cast thee off, as one whose impious hands
You'll be oppress'd by numbers. Be advis'd  Had rent asunder nature's nearest ties,




SCOENE I.]                 -THE FAIR: PENITENT.                                        123
Which, once divided, never join again.          -Hor. Then to be good is to be happy-Angels
To-day I've made a noble youth thy husband!    Are happier than  mankind, because they're
Consider well his worth; reward his love;            better.  
Be willing to be happy, and thou art so.       Guilt is'the source of sorrow!'tis the fiend,'
[Exit ScroLTo. Th' avenging fiend, that follows us behind,
Cal.- How hard is the condition of our sex.   [With whips and stings; -The bless'd know:none
Through every state of life the slaves of man!'    of this,' 
In all the dear delightful days of youth,-  But rest in everlasting peace of mind,
A'rigid father dictates to oiur wills, --     And find the height of all their heaven is goadAnd. deals out spuleasu rsanhand.'                  ness.
Tohis, the yran husband's reign succeed  Cal. And what bold parasite's officious tongue
Proud with opinion of superior reason, -       Shall dare; to. tax Calista's name with guilt?.
He holds domestic business and devotion          Hor. None should; but'tis a: busy talking
All we are capable to know, and -shuts us,-           world,
Like cloister'd idiots:, from the world's acquaint-  That with licentious breath -blows, like the wind,
~'-?......ahnce,.'-. As freely on the palace as the cottage'.:
And all the joys of freedom. Wherefore are we'   Cal. What-'mystic'riddle lurks beneath- thy
Born with high- souls,: but- to assert ourselves,'    words,
Shake off this vile obedience they exact,'    Which thou wouldst seem unwilling to express,
And claim an equal empire o'er the world 3     As if it meant dishonour to my virtue.:. Away with this ambiguous'shuffling phrase,: 
-   Enter- HORATIO.'            And let thy oracle be understood.; lor. She's here! yet, ho! my tongue is at a   Hor. Lothario!
loss  -                                    Cal. Ha! What wouldst: thou mean- by him?
Teach me, some power; that happy art of speech,:  Hor. Lothario and Calista!-Thus they join
To dress my purpose up in gracious words;' Two names, which heaven -decreed should never
Such as may softly steal upon her soul,:             meet.
And never'waken the tempestuous passions;'' Hence have the talkers of this populous city
By hteaven she weeps!-Forgive me, fair Calista, A shameful tale to tell, for public sport,
If I presume, on privilege of friendship,'     Of an unhappy beauty, a false fair one,'To join my grief to yours, and mourn the evils  -Who plighted to a noble youth her faith,
That hurt your peace, and quench those eyes in  When she had given her honour to a wretch.
tears.                                     Cal. Death and confusion! Have I liv'd to
Cal. To steal, unlook'd for, on my private         this 3
sorrow,                                  Thus to be treated with unmanly insolence?
Speaks not the man of honour, nor the friend,    To be the sport of a loose' ruffian's tongue!
But rather means the spy.                      Thus to be us'd! thus! like the vilest creature,
Hor. Unkindly said!-                        That ever was a slave to vice and infamy.
For, oh! as sure as you accuse me falsely,      Hor. By honour and fair truth, you'wrong me
I come' to prove myself Calista's friend.'            much;
Cal. You are my husband's friend, the friend- For, on my soul, nothing but strong necessity
of' Altamont!' Could urge my tongue to this ungrateful office.'Hor. Are you not one  Are you not' join'd by 1 came with strong reluctance, as if death
heaven,                                 Had stood across my way, to save your honour,
Each interwoven with the~ other's fate:.       Yours and Sciolto's, yours and Altamont's;
Then who can give his friendship but to one 3-   Like one who ventures through a burning p'le,
Who can be Altamont's, and not Calista's  1:     To save his.tender wife, with all her' brood 
Cal. Force,: and the wills of our' imperious. Of little fondlings, from the dreadful ruin.
rulers,.'... Cal. Is this the famous friend of Altamont,
May bind two bodies in one wretched chain:     For noble worth and deeds of arms renown'd 3
But minds will still look back to their own choice. Is this the tale-bearing officious fellow
Hotr. When souls, that should agree to will'the That watChes for intelligence frominyes    -
same,                                   This wretched Argus of a jealous husband,
To have one common object for their wishes,' That fills his easy ears with:monstrous tales,
Look: different ways, regardless- of each other,:    And makes him toss, and -rave, and wreak at
Think what a train of wretchedness ensues;           length
Love shall be banished from the genial bed;    Bloody revenge;on his defenceless wife,
The night shall be lonely andof carnquiet   -  Who guiltless dies, because her fool ran mad 3?
And every-day shall be -a day. of cares;.         Hor. Alas! this rage is vain; for if your fame
Cal. Then all the boasted office of thy friend- Or peace be worth your care, you must be calm,
ship,                                   And listen to the means are left to save'em.
Was but to tell Calista what a wretch she is.'Tis now the lucky minute of your fate,
Alas! what needed that?                      By me your genius speaks, by me it warns you,
Hor.' Oh! rather say,                        Never to see that curs'd' Lothario more;
1 came to tell her how she might be happy;     Unless you mean to be despis'd, be shunn'd,
To sooth the secret anguish of her soul;       By all our virtuous maids and noble matrons;
To comfort that fair mourner, that forlorn one,   Unless you have devoted this rare beauty
And teach her steps to know the paths of peace.  To infamy, diseases, prostitutionCal. Say thou, to whom this paradise is known,   Cal. Dishonour blast thee, base, unmanner'd
Where lies the blissful region? Mark: my way to     slave!.i. it,'  That dar'st forget my birth; and sacred sex,
For oh!'tis sure I long to be at rest.        And shock me with the rude, unhallow'd sound 




I2;4                     THE FAIR PENITENT.                                   [ACT' Ix.
ior. Here kneel, and in the awful face of Shot from her angry eyes; as if she meant
heaven                                Too well to keep the cruel vow she made.
Breathe out a solemn vow, never to see,      Now, as thou art a man, Horatio, tell me,
Nor think, if possible, on him that ruin'd thee;   What means this wild confusion in thy looks;
Or, by my Altamont's dear life, I swear,     As if thou wert at variance with thyself,'rhis paper; nay, you must not fly-This paper, Madness and reason combating with thee,
This guilty paper shall divulge your shame.  And.thou wert doubtful which should get the
Cal. What mean'st thou by that paper? What      better?
contrivance                             Hor. I would be dumb for ever; but thy fate
[last thou been forging to deceive my father;    Has otherwise decreed it. Thou hast seen
To turn his heart against his wretched daughter; That idol of thy soul, that fair Calista;
That Altamont and thou may share his wealth.?  Thou hast beheld her tears.
A wrong like this will make me even forget    Alt. I have seen her weep;
The weakness of my sex.-Oh, for a sword,     I have seen that lovely one, that dear Calista,
To urge my vengeance on the villain's head  Complaining, in the bitterness of sorrow
That forg'd the scroll!                    That thou, my friend Horatio, thou hast wrong'd
Hor. Behold! Can this be forg'd?               her.
See where Calista's name-                     Hor. That I have wrong'd her! Had her eyes
[Sh7owing the letter near.    been fed
Cal. To atoms thus,          [Tearing it. From  the rich stream which warms her heart,
Thus let me tear the vile, detested falsehood,    and number'd
The wicked, lying evidence of shame.        For every falling tear a drop of blood,
Hor. Confusion\!                          It had not been too much; for she has ruin'd thee,
Cal. Henceforth, thou officious fool,     Even thee, my Altamont. She has undone thee.
Meddle no more, nor dare, even on thy life,   Alt. Dost thou join ruin with Calista's name?
To breathe an accent that may touch my virtue. What is so fair, so exquisitely good?
I am myself the guardian of my honour,      Is she not more than painting can express,
And will not bear so insolent a monitor.    Or youthful poets fancy when they love?
Does she not come, like wisdom or good fortune,
Enter ALTAMONT.                Replete with blessings, giving wealth and honour?
Alt. Where is my life, my love, my charming   Hor. It had been better thou hadst liv'd a
bride,                                      beggar,
Joy of my heart, and pleasure of my eyes?  And fed on scraps at great men's surly doors,
Disorder'd  -and in tears!-Horatio too!   Than to have match'd.with one so false, so fatal.
My friend is in amaze-What can it mean?       Alt. It is too much for friendship to allow thee.
Tell me, Calista, who has done thee wrong,  Because I tamely bore the wrong thou didst her,
That my swift sword may find out the offender,  Thou dost avow the barb'rous, brutal part,
And'do thee ample justice.                 And urge the injury even to my face.
Cal. Turn to him.                           Hor. I see she has got possession of thy heart,
Alt. Horatio!                            She has charm'd thee, like a Syren, to her bed,
Cal. To that insolent.                    With looks of love, and with enchanting sounds:
Alt. My friend!                           Too late the rocks and quicksands will appear,
Could he do this? Have I not found him just,   When thou are wreck'd upon the faithless shore,
Honest as truth itself? and could he break  Then vainly wish thou hadst not left thy friend,
The sanctity of friendship? Could he wound  To follow her delusion.
The heart of Altamont in his Calista?        Alt. If thy friendship
Cal. I thought what justice I should find from  Does churlishly deny my love a room,
thee!                                It is not worth my keeping; I disclaim it.
Go fawn upon him, listen to his tale.         Hor. Canst thou soon forget what I've been to
Thou art perhaps confederate in his mischief,     thee?
And wilt believe the legend, if he tells it.  I shar'd the task of nature with thy father,
Alt. Oh, impious! what presumptuous wretch And form'd with care thy inexperienc'd youth
shall dare                            To virtue and to arms.
To offer at an injury like that?           Thy noble father, oh, thou light young man!
Priesthood, nor age, nor cowardice itself,  Would he have us'd me thus? One fortune fed
Shall save him from the fury of my vengeance.      us;
Cal. The man who dar'd to do it was Horatio; For his was ever mine, mine his, and both
Thy darling friend;'twas Altamont's Horatio.   Together flourish'd, and together fell.
But mark me well; while thy divided heart   He call'd me friend, like thee: would he have left
Dotes on a villain that has wrong'd me thus,      me
No force shall drag me to thy hated bed.    Thus for a woman, and a vile one, too?
Nor can my cruel father's power do more       Alt. Thou canst not, dar'st not mean it! Speak
Than shut me in a cloister: there, well pleas'd,   again
Religious hardships will I learn to bear,    Say, who is vile; but dare not name Calista.
To fast and freeze at midnight hours of prayer:  Hor. I had not spoke at first, unless compell'd
Nor think it hard, within a lonely cell,     And forc'd to clear myself; but since thus urg'd
With melancholy speechless saints to dwell:  I must avow, I do not know a viler.
But bless the day I to that refuge ran,       Alt. Thou wert my father's friend; he lov'd
Free from the marriage chain,, and from that       thee well;
tyrant, man.                   [Exit. A kind of venerable mark of him
41t. She's gone; and as she went, ten thou- Hangs round thee, and protects thee from my
sand fires                                   vengeance.




SCENE.1                 THE FAIR PENITENT.                                      12fi
I cannot, dare not lift my sword against thee,  Lav. Stay, Altamnont, my brother, stay!
But henceforth never let me see thee more.    Alt. It cannot, sha' not be-you must not hold
[Going out.       me.
Hor. I love thee still, ungrateful as thou art,  Lay. Look kindly, then.
And must and will preserve thee from dishonour,   Alt. Each minute that I stay,
Even in spite of thee.          [Holds him. Is a new injury to fair Calista.
Alt. Let go my arm.                       From thy false friendship, to her arms I'll fly;
Hor. If honour be thy care, if thou wouldst Then own, the joys which on her charms attend,
live                                  Have more than paid me for my faithless friend.
Without the name of credulous, wittol husband,            [Breaks from LAVINIA, and exit.
Avoid thy bride, shun her detested bed,       Hor. Oh, raise thee, my Lavinia, from  the
The joys it yields are dash'd with poison-         earth.
Alt. Off!                                 It is too much; this time of flowing grief,
To urge me but a minute more is fatal.      This wondrous waste of tears, too much to give
Hor. She is polluted, stain'd —           To an ungrateful friend, and cruel brother.
Alt. Madness and raging!                    Lay. Is there not cause for weeping? Oh,
But hence-                                         Horatio!
Hor. Dishonour'd by the man you hate-     A brother and a husband were my treasure,
Alt. I pr'ythee loose me yet, for thy own sake,'Twas all the little wealth that poor Lavinia
If life be worth thy keeping-                Sav'd from  the shipwreck of her father's forHor. By Lothario.                                tunes.
Alt. Perdition take thee, villain, for the false- One half is lost already. If thou leav'st me,
hood!                   [Strikes him. If thou shouldst prove unkind to me, as Altamont,
Now, nothing but thy life can make atonement.  Whom shall I find to pity my distress,
Hor. A blow! thou hast us'd me well-      To have compassion on a helpless wanderer,
[Draws. And give her where to lay her wretched head?
Alt. This to thy heart-                     Hor. Why dost thou wound me with thy soft
Hor. Yet hold-By heaven his father's in his      complainings 2
face!                     [Wtdnrdepr,,    Though Altamont be false, and use me hardly,
Spite of my wrongs, m       t.             Yet think not I impute his crimes to thee.
And 1 could rather die myself than hurt him.    Talk not of being forsaken; for I'll keep thee
Alt. Defend thyself; for by my much wrong'a Next to my heart, my certain pledge of happiness.
love,                                   Lav. Then you will love me still, cherish me
I swear, the poor evasion shall not save thee.     ever,
Hor. Yet hold-thou know'st, 1 dare.       And hide me from misfortune in your bosom?
[Theyfight.   Hor. But for the love I owe the good Sciolto,
From Genoa, from falsehood, and inconstancy,
Enter LAVINIA, ho runs between their swords. To some more honest, distant clime I'd go;
Lav. My brother, my Horatio! is it possible? Nor would I be beholden to myscountry,
Oh, turn your cruel swords upon Lavinia.     For aught but thee, the partner of my flight.
If you must quench your impious rage in blood,    Lav. And I would follow thee; forsake, for
Behold, my heart shall give you all her store,    thee,
To save those dearer streams that flow from  My country, brother, friends, even -all I have.
yours.                                 Though mine's a little all, yet were it more,
Alt.'Tis well thou hast found a safeguard: And better far, it should be left for thee,
none but this,                        And all that I would keep should be Horatio.
No power on earth, could save thee from my fury. So, when a merchant sees his vessel lost,
Hor. Safety from thee!                     Though richly freighted from a foreign coast,
Away, vain boy! Hast thou forgot the rev'rence  Gladly for life, the treasure he would give,
Due to my arm, thy first, thy great example,  And only wishes to escape and live:
Which pointed out thy way to noble daring,   Gold and his gains no more employ his mind;
And show'd thee what it was to be a man?    But, driving o er the billows with the wind,
Lav. What busy, meddling fiend, what foe to Cleaves to one faithful plank, and leaves the rest
goodness,                                    behind.                      [Exeunt.
Could kindle such a discord?
Hor. Ask'st thou what made us foes?'Twas
ACT IV.
base ingratitude,             [mercy,'Twas such a sin to friendship, as heaven's            SCENE I. —A Garden.
That strives with man's untoward, monstrous
wickedness,                                 LOTHARIO and CALISTA discovered.
Unwearied with forgiving, scarce could pardon.  Loth. Weep not, my fair; but let the god of
He who was all to me, child, brother, friend,      love
With barb'rous bloody malice, sought my life.    Laugh in thy eyes, and revel in thy heart,
Alt. Thou art my sister, and I would not make Kindle again his torch, and hold it high,
thee                                  To light us to new joys. Nor let a thought
The lonely mourner of a widow'd bed;         Of discord, or disquiet past, molest thee;
Therefore thy husband's life is safe: but warn But to a long oblivion give thy cares,
him,                                  And let us melt the present hour in bliss.
No more to know this hospitable roof.          Cal. Seek not to sooth me with thy false
Fie has but ill repaid Sciolto's bounty.          endearments,
We must not meet;'tis dangerous. Farewell.   To charm me with thy softness:'tis in vain:
[He is going, LAVINIA holds him. Thou canst no more betray, nor I be ruin'd.
11~'




126                       TE  FAI R PENITENT.                                  [ACT IxvT
The hours of folly and of fond delight    -  With Altamont complaining for his wrong.,sAre wasted all, and fled,, those. that remain    -    Alt.. Behold him here-. [Comingforwward.
Are doom'd to weeping, anguish, and repentance.   Cal. Ah!                      [Starting.
I come to charge thee with. a long account...' Alt.'The wretch! whom thou hast made.
Of all the sorrows I have known. already,     Curses and sorrows hast thou heap'd upon him,
And all I have to come,; thou hast undone me.   And vengeance is the only good that's left.
Loth. Unjust Calista! dost' thou Call it ruin                               [Drawing.'to love as we have done,; to melt, to languish,  Loth. Thou hast ta'en me somewhat unawares,
To-wish for somewhat exquisitely. happy,'tis true                     -.
And then be bless'd even to that wish's height'  But love and war take turns, like day and, night,
To die with joy, and straight to live again:  And little preparation serves my turn,
Speechless to gaze, and with tumultuous trans- Equal to both, and arm'd for either field.
port —                                 We've long been foes; this moment ends our
Cal. Oh, let me hear no more; I cannot bear it;.  quarrel;'Tis deadly to remembrance. Let that night,    Earth, heaven, and fair Calista, judge the combat!
That guilty night, be blotted from the year:                  [ They fight; LOTHARIOfalls.
For'twas the night that gave me up to shame,   Oh, Altamont! thy genius is the stronger!
To sorrow, to the false Lothario.            Thou hast prevail'd!-My fierce, ambitious soul
Loth.. Hear, this,-ye, powers.! mark, how the fair Declining droops, and all her fires grow pale;
d.Deceiver.                            Yet let not this advantage, swell thy pride,
Sadly complains of violated truth;           I conquer'd in my turn, in love I triumph'd.
She calls me false, even she, the faithless she,.   Those joys are lodg'd beyond the reach of fate;
Wihorm day and- night, whom heaven and earth, That sweet revenge comes smiling to my thoughts,
have heardh,                           Adorns my fall, and cheers my heart in:dying..
Sighing to vow, and tenderly protest,                                               [Dies.
Tenathousand.times, she would be only mine;   C(al. And what remains for me, beset with
And.-yet, behold, she has. given herself away,     shame,
Pled from my arms, and wedded to. another,   Encompass'd round with wretchedness.? There is
Even to the man whom most I hate on earth.-   But this one way to break the toil, and'scape.'Cal. Art thou so base to upbraid me with a      [She catches up LOTHARIO'S sword, and,
crime,':.o.ffers to kill herself; ALTAMONT wrests
Which nothing but thy cruelty could cause  -          itfrom her.
If indignation, raging in my soul              Alt. What means thy frantic rage?
For thy unmanly insolence and scorn,            Cal. Off! let me go.
Urg'd me to do a deed of desperation,.        Alt. Oh! thou hast more than murder'd me;
And wound myself to be reveng'd on thee,           yet still,                     [horror,
Think whom I should devote to death and hell,  Still art thou here! and my soul starts with
Whom curse as my undoer, but Lothario?       At thought of any danger that may reach thee.
Hadst thou been just, not all Sciolto's power,'. Cal. Think'st: thou I mean to live? to be forNot all the vows and prayers of sighing Altamont,  given-?
Could have prevail'd, or won me to forsake thee.  Oh, thou hast known:but little of Calista!
Loth. How have I fail'd, in justice or in love?  If thou hadst never heard nmy shame, if only
Burns not my' flame as brightly as at first?  The midnight moon and silent stars had seen
Even now my heart beats high, I languish for        it,
thee,.                         I would not bear to -be reproach'd by them,
My transports are as fierce, as strong my wishes, But dig down deep to find a grave beneath,
As if thou ne'er hadst bless'd. me.with thy And hide me from their beams.
beauty.                                  S.i. [Within.] What, ho! my son!
Cal. How didst thou dare to think that I would    Cal. Is it the voice of thunder,: or my father?
live                                   Madness! Confusion! let the storm come on,
A slave to base- desires and brutal pleasures,  Let the tumultuous roar drive all upon me;
To be a wretched wanton fbr thy- leisure,:  Dash my devoted bark, ye surges, break it!
To toy and waste an.hour of idle time with?.'Tis for my ruin that the tempest rises.
Myso. ul. disdains'thee for so mean a thought.  When I am lost, sunk to the bottom low,
Loth. The driving storm of passion will have Peace shall return, and all be calm again.
way,'Enter SCIOLTO.
And I must yield before it. Wert thou calm,
Love, the poor criminal whom thou hast doom'd,    Sci.; Even now  Rossano leap'd,the garden
Has yet a thousand tender things to plead,:. wall. —.
To charm thy rage, and mtigate his-fate.'    Ha! death has been among you-Oh, my fears!
E,, nter ALT.AMON,-.b; e...'    Last night thou hadst a diff'rence with thy friend,
iThe cause thou.gav'st me for it was a damn'd
Alt. Ha! do I live and wake?     [Aside.        one.
Cal. Ha.dst. thou been..true, how happy had I-:Didst thou.not wrong the man who told the truth?
been!.                                Answer me quickNot Altamont, but.thou, hadst.been my lord.    Alt. Oh! press me not to speak;
But wherefore:nam'd-E happiness- with thee?. Even now my heart is breaking, and the- mention
It is for thee,:for. thee, that I am curs'd; -  Will lay me dead before you. See that body,
For thee my, Secret: oul.each -hour arraigns me,   And guess my shame! my ruin! Oh, Calista!
Calls me to answer for my virtue stain'd,      Sci. It is enough! but I am slow to.execute,
My honour lost to thee.: for. thee:it,haunts me,   And justice lingers in my lazy hand 
W ith stern Sciolto vowing vengeance on me,.  Thus let me wipe dishonour from my name,




SCNE I.]                  T H E FAIR: PENIT EN T.                                  127
And cut thee from  the. earth, thou. stain to On the poor, faithless, lovely, dear Calista.
goodness-                                Sci. Hast thou not read what brave Virginius
[ Offers to kill CALISTA; ALTAMONT holds     did?
him..                         With his own hand he slew his only daughter,
Alt. Stay thee, Sciolto, thou:rash father, stay,  To save her from the fierce Decemvir's lust.
Or turn the point on me, and through my breast  He slew her yet unspotted, to prevent
Cut out the -bloody passage to Calista;      The shame which she might know. Then what
So shall my love be perfecti while for her:        should I do.?
1 die, for whom alone I wish'd to live. -    But thou hast tied mv hand.-I wo' not kill her;
Cal.. No-, Altamont; my heart, that scorn'd Yet, by the ruin she has brought upon us,
thy love,.    The common infamy that brands us both,
Shall never be indebted to thy pity.         She sha'not scape.
Thus torn, defac'd, and wretched as I seem,    Alt. You mean that she shall die then 1
Still I have something of Sciolto's virtue.    Sci. Ask me not what, nor how, I have resolv'd;
Yes, yes, my father, I applaud thy justice:.  For all within is anarchy and uproar.
Strike home, and 1 will bless thee for the blow;  Oh, Altamont! what a vast scheme of joy
Be merciful, and free me from. my pain;      Has this one day destroyed I Well did I hope'Tis sharp,'tis terrible, and I could curse  This daughter would have bless'd my latter days;
The cheerful day,-men, earth, and. heaven, and  That I should live to see you the world's wonder,
thee,                                  So happy, great, and good, that none were like
Even thee, thou venerable, good old man,           you.
For being author to a wretch like me.        While I, from bus life and care set free,
Sci. Thy pious:care has given me time to think, Had spent the evening of my age at home,
And sav'd me from a. crime; then rest, my sword, Among a little prattling race of yours:
To honour have I kept thee ever sacred,      There, like an old man, talk'd awhile, and then
Nor will I stain thee with a rash revenge.   Laid down and slept in peace. Instead of this,
But, mark me well, I will have justice done:  Sorrow and shame must bring me to my graveHope not to bear away thy crimes unpunish'd:   Oh, damn her! damn her!
I will see justice executed on thee,
Even to a Roman strictness; and thou, nature,
Or whatsoe'er thou art that plead'st within me,  Serv. Arm yourself, my lord:
Be still; thy tender strugglings are in vain.  Rossano, who but now escap'd the garden,
Cal. Then am 1 doom:d to live, and bear your Has gather'd in the street a band of rioters,
triumph.        [braiding, Who threaten you and all your friends with ruin,
To groan beneath your scorn and fierce up- Unless Lothario be return'd in safety.    [Exbtu
Daily to be reproach'd, and have my misery     Sci. By heaven their fury rises to my wish,
At morn, at noon, at night, told over to me?  Nor shall misfortune know my house alone;
Is this, is this, the mercy of a father?     But thou, Lothario, and thy race, shall pay me
[ only beg to die, and he denies me.         For all the sorrows which my age is cursed with.
Sci. Hence from my sight! thy father cannot I think my name as great, my friends as potent,
bear thee;                             As any in the state; all shall be summon'd;
Fly with thy infamy to some dark cell,       I know that all will join their hands to ours,
Where, on the confines of eternal night,     And vindicate thy vengeance. When our force
Mourning, misfortune, cares, and anguish dwell; Is full and arm'd, we shall expect thy sword
Where ugly shame hides her opprobrious head,   To join with us, and sacrifice to justice.  [Exit.
And death and hell detested rule maintain;     Alt. There is a heavy weight upon my senses;
There howl out the remainder of thy life,    A dismal, sullen stillness, that succeeds
And with thy name may be no more remember'd. The storm of rage and grief, like silent death,
Cal. Yes, I will fly to some such dismal place, After the tumult and the noise of life.
And be more curs'd than you can wish I were;    Would it were death, as sure'tis wondrous like it,
This fatal form, that drew:on my undoing,    For I am sick of living; my soul's pall'd,
Fasting, and tears, and hardships, shall destroy;  She kindles not with anger or revenge;
Nor light, nor food, nor comfort, will. I know,    Love was th' informing, active fire within;
Nor aught that may continue hated life.      Now that is quench'd, the mass forgets to move,
Then when you see; me meagre, wan, and chang'd, And longs to mingle with its kindred earth.
Stretch'd at my length, and dying in my cave,                                      [Exit
-On that cold earth, 1 mean shall be my grave,                 ACT V.
Perhaps you may relent, and sighing say, 
At length her tears have wash'd her stains away;  SCENE I.-A  room hung with black.
At length'tis time her punishment should cease; On one side LOTHARIO'S Body on a:Bier; on the
Die, thou poor suff'ring wretch, and be at peace.   other a Table, with a Scull and other bones, a
[Exit.   Book and a Lamp on it.-CALISTA is discoverSci. Who of my servants wait there?          ed on a couch, in black; her hair hanging
)Enter two or three SERVANTS.:     loose and disordered.  After soft music, she
Raise that body, and bear it in. On your lives    rises and comesforward.
Take care my:doors:be guarded well, that none   C: al.'Tis well! these solemn sounds, this pomp?
Pass out, or enter, but by my appointment.         of horror,
[Exeunt SERVANTS, with LOTHARIo's body. Are fit to feed the frenzy in my soul.
Alt. There is a- fatal: fury in your visage,  Here's room for meditation even to madness,
It blazes fierce,: and menaces destruction,  Till. the mind burst with thinking. This dull
I tremble at the vengeance which you meditate      flame




128                       THE FAIR PENITENT.                                    LACT V.
Sleeps in the socket. Sure the book was left    Sci.'Tis justly thought, and worthy of that
To teach me something;-for instruction then-        spirit                         [Rome
He teaches holy sorrow and contrition,       That dwelt in ancient Latian breasts, when
And penitence.-Is it become an art then?      Was mistress of the world. I would go on,
A trick that lazy, dull, luxurious gownmen   And tell thee all my purpose; but it sticks
Can teach us to do over? I'll no more on't;   Here at my heart, and cannot find a way.
[ Throwing away the Book.   Cal. Then spare the telling, if it be a pain,
I have more real anguish in my heart,        And write the meaning with your poniard here.
Than all their pedant discipline e'er knew.    Sci. Oh! truly guess'd-seest thou this tremWhat charnel has been rifled for these bones?      bling hand?    [Holding up a Dagger.
Fie! this is pageantry;-they look uncouthly.    Thrice justice urg'd-and thrice the slack'ning
But what of that, if he or she that own'd'em       sinews
Safe from disquiet sit, and smile to see     Forgot their office, and confess'd the father.
The farce their miserable relics play 3      At length the stubborn virtue has prevail'd 
But here's a sight is terrible indeed!       It must, it must be so-Oh! take it then,
Is this that haughty, gallant, gay Lothario,                           [Gives the Dagger.
That dear, perfidious-Ah!' —  aVo e looks! And know the rest untaught.
And those dead eyes!                           Cal. I understand you.
Ascend, ye ghosts, fantastic forms of night,  It is but thus, and both are satisfied.
In all your different dreadful shapes ascend,      [Offers to kill herself; ScIOLTO catches
And match the present horror, if you can.             her arm.
Sci. A moment, give me yet a moment's space.
En~ter SCIOLTO.               The stern, the rigid judge has been obey'd;
Sci. This dread of night, this silent hour of Now nature, and the father, claim their turns.
darkness,                              I've held the balance with an iron hand,
PNature for rest ordain'd, and soft repose;  And put off. every tender human thought,
And yet distraction and tumultuous jars      To doom my child to death; but spare my eyes
Keep all our frighted citizens awake:        The most unnatural sight, lest their strings
Amidst the general wreck, see where she stands,    crack,
[Pointing to CALISTA. My old brain split, and I grow mad with horror.
Like Helen, in the night when Troy was sack'd,   Cal. Ha! is it possible' and is there yet
Spectatress of the mischief which she made.  Some little, dear remain of love and tenderness
Cal. It is Sciolto! Be thyself, my soul,  For poor, undone Calista, in your heart?
Be strong to bear his fatal indignation,       Sci. Oh! when I think what pleasure I took in
That he may see thou art not lost so far,          thee,
But somewhat still of his great spirit lives  What joys thou gav'st me in thy prattling inIn the forlorn Calista.                            fancy,
Sci. Thou wert once                        Thy sprightly wit, and early blooming beauty;
My daughter.                                 How have I stood and fed my eyes upon thee,
Cal. Happy were it I had died,             Then, lifting up my hands and wondfring, bless'd
And never lost that name.                          thee;
Sci. That's something yet;                 By my strong grief, my heart even melts within
Thou wert the very darling of my age:              me;
I thought the day too short to gaze upon thee;    I could curse nature, and that tyrant honour,
That all the blessings I could gather for thee,  For making me thy father and thy judge;
By cares on earth, and by my prayers to heaven, Thou art my daughter still.
Were little for mry fondness to bestow,        Cal. For that kind word,
Why didst thou turn to folly then, and curse me 3 Thus let me fall, thus humbly to the earth,
Cal. Because my soul was rudely drawn from  Weep on your feet, and bless you for this good
yours,                                       ness.
A poor, imperfect copy of my father;         Oh!'tis too much for this offending wretch,
It was because I lov'd, and was a woman.     This parricide, that murders with her crimes,
Sci. Hadst thou been honest, thou hadst been Shortens her father's age, and cuts him off
a cherub:                              Ere little more than half his years be number'd.
But of that joy, as of a gem long lost,        Sci. Would it were otherwise-but thou must
Beyond redemption gone, think we no more.          die.Hast thou e'er dar'd to meditate on death 3    Cal. That I must: die, it is my only comfort:
Cal. I have, as on the end of shame and sor- Death is the privilege of human nature,
row.                                  I And life without it were not worth our taking:
Sci. Ha! answer me! Say, hast thou coolly I Come then,
thought                               I.  Thou meagre shade; here let me breathe my last'Tis not the stoic's lessons got by rote.    Charm'd with my father's pity and forgiveness,
The pomp of words, and pedant dissertations,    More than if angels tun'd their golden viols,
That can sustain thee in that hour of terror:  And sung a requiem to my parting soul.
Books have taught cowards to talk nobly of it,  Sci. I'm summon'd hence; ere this my friends
But when the trial comes they stand aghast;        expect me.
Hast thou consider'd what may happen after it!  There is, I know not what of sad presage,
How thy account may stand, and what to answer? That tells me I shall never see thee more;
Cal. I've turn'd my eyes inward upon myself,  If it be so, this is our last farewell,
Where foul offence and shame have laid all waste; And these the parting pangs, which nature feels,
Therefore my soul abhors the wretched dwelling, When anguish rends the heart-strings-Oh, my
And longs to find some better place of rest.       daughter!                        [Exit




SOEnE 1.]                 THE FAIR PENITENT.                                       129
Cal. Now think, thou curs'd Calista, now  Dost thou notlabour with thy murd'rous weight?
behold                                And you, ye glitt'ring, heavenly host of stars,
The desolation, horror, blood, and ruin,    Hide your fair heads in clouds, or I shall blast
Thy crimes and fatal folly spread around,          you;
That loudly cry for vengeance on thy head;   For I am all contagion, death, and ruin;
Yet heaven, who knows our weak imperfect And nature sickens at me. Rest, thou world,
natures,                              This parricide shall be thy plague no more;
How blind with passions, and how prone to evil, Thus, thus I set thee free.  [Stabs herself.
Makes not too strict inquiry for offences,     Hor. Oh, fatal rashness!
But is aton'd by penitence and prayer:      Enter SCIOLTO, pale and bloody, supported by
Cheap recompense! here'twould not be receiv'd;              Servants.
Nothing but blood can make the expiation,                     Servarts.
And cleanse the soul from inbred deep pollution.    Cal. Oh, my heart!             [fed
And see, another injur'd wretch appears,     Well may'st thou fail; for see, the spring that
To call for justice from my tardy hand.      Thy vital stream, is wasted, and runs low.
My father! will you now, at last, forgive me,
Enter ALTAMONT.                 If, after all my crimes, and all ycur suff'rings,
Alt. Hail to you, horrors! hail, thou house of I call you once again by that dear name?
death!                               Will you forget my shame, and those wide
And thou, the lovely mistress of these shades,     wounds?
Whose beauty gilds the more than midnight Lift up your hand and bless me, ere I go
darkness,                              Down to my dark abode!
And makes it grateful as the dawn of day.      Sci. Alas, my daughter!
Oh, take me in a fellow-mourner, with thee   Thou hast rashly ventur'd in a stormy sea,
I'll number groan for groan, and tear for tear;    Where life, fame, virtue, all were wreck'd and
And when the fountains of thy eyes are dry,        lost.                        [anguish,
Mine shall supply the stream, and weep for both. But sure thou hast borne thy part in all the
Cal. I know thee well, thou art the injur'd  And smarted with the pain. Then rest in peace
Altamont;                             Let silence and oblivion hide thy name,
Thou com'st to urge me with the wrongs I've And save thee from the malice of posterity;
done thee.                            And may'st thou find with heaven the same
TBut know I stand upon the brink of life,         forgiveness,
And in a moment mean to set me free          As with thy father here.-Die, and be happy.
From shame and thy upbraiding.                 Cal. Celestial sounds! peace dawns upon my
Alt. Falsely, falsely                            soul,                         [mont!
Dost thou accuse me! 0, forbid me not        And every pain grows less-Oh, gentle AltaTo mourn thy loss,                           Think not too hardly of me when I'm gone;
To wish some better fate had rul'd our loves,  But pity me-Had I but early known
And that Calista had been mine, and true.    Thy wondrous worth, thou excellent young
Cal. Oh, Altamont!'tis hard for souls like      man
mine,                                 We had been happier both-Now,'tis too late;
Haughty and fierce, to yield they've done amiss.  And yet my eyes take pleasure to behold thee;
But, oh, behold! ry proud, disdainful heart,  Thou art their last dear object-Mercy, heaven!
Bends to thy gentler virtue. Yes, I own.                                           [Dies.
Such is thy truth, thy tenderness, and love,   Sci. Oh, turn thee from  that fatal object,
That, were 1 not abandon'd to destruction,         Altamont!'With thee I might have liv'd for ages bless'd,    Come near, and let me bless thee ere I die.
And died in peace within thy faithful arms.  To thee and brave Horatio I bequeath
My fortunes-Lay me by thy noble father,
Enter HORATIO.                And love my memory as thou hast his;
iHor. Now mourn indeed, ye miserable pair!   For thou hast been my  son-Oh, gracious
For now the measure of your woes is full.         heaven t
The great, the good Sciolto dies this moment.    Thou that hast endless blessings still in store
Cal. My father!                           For virtue and for filial piety,
Alt. That's a deadly stroke, indeed.      Let grief, disgrace, and want be far away;
Hor. Not long ago, he privately went forth,    But multiply thy mercies on his head.    [him,
Attended but by few, and those unbidden.    Let honour, greatness, goodness, still be with
I heard which way he took, and straight pur- And peace in all his ways-           [Dies.
sued him;                               Hor. The storm of grief bears hard upon his
But found him compass'd by Lothario's faction,     youth,
Almost alone, amidst a crowd of foes.       And bends him, like a drooping flower, to earth.
Too late we brought him aid, and drove them  By such examples are we taught to prove
back:                                 The sorrows that attend unlawful love.
Ere that, his frantic valour had provok'd    Death, or some worse misfortune, soon divide
The death he seein'd to wish for from their The injur'd bridegroom from his guilty bride.
swords.                               If you would have the nuptial union last,
Cal. And dost thou bear me yet, thou patient Let virtue be the bond that ties it fast.
earth?                                                                   [Exeunt
VOL. I.... R




A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIFE:
A COMEOtE D Y,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY MRS. CENTLIVRE.
REMARKS.
TaE busy variety of this lively comedy, produced at the Theatre, Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, in the year 1713, has al
ways procured it a great share of popular favour; notwithstanding its numerous offences against probability,
decorum, and nature.
In the principal characters, there is great scope for that rich comic talent, which is always displayed, to the dea
aight of their audiences, at the Theatres Royal of this. great metropolis.
The fair authoress says, in her Prologue,
"To-night we come upon a bold design,
To try to please without one borrow'd line;
Our plot is new and regularly clear,
And not one single tittle from tMoliere;
O'er buried poets we with caution tread,
And parish sextons leave to rob the dead."
DRAMATIS PERSONiE.
COVENT GARDEN, 1774.               DRURY LANE 1814
COLONEL FEIGNWELL,............... Mr. Woodward..........                  Mr. Bannister.
SIR PHILIP MODELOVE,............... Mr. Booth................            Mr. Penley.
PERIWINKLE,...................... Mr. Quick.                                 Mr. Munden.
TRADELOVE,........                        Mr. Dunstall..................... Mr. Penson.
OBADIAH PRIM,.............              Mr. Shuter...................       r. Dowton.
FREEMAN,....                              Mr. Whitefield.........          Mr. Wallack.
SIMON PURE,.Mr. Wewitzer........                                           Mr. Oxberry.
SACKBUT,                                   Mr......... Fearon.........        r. Palmer.
ANNE LOVELY,.................... Miss Mackin.......... M........rs. Glover.
MRS. PRIM,.Mrs. Pitt................... Mrs. Sparks.
BETTY............ Mrs. Evans.                             Miss Tidswell.
Stock-brokers, Gentlemen, Travellers, Coachmen, &c.
ACT I.                          Col. F. Why,'faith, Freeman, there is something in't: I have seen a lady at Bath, who has
SCENE. —A  Tavern.                kindled such a flame in me, that all the waters
COLONEL FEIGNWELL and FREEMAN over a             ere can't quench.
~~~b ottl e      r. Free. Is she not to be had, colonel.
Col. F. That's a difficult question to answer;?tsee. Come, colonel, his majesty's health.-  however, I resolve to try; perhaps you may be
You are as melancholy as if you were in love! I able to serve me; you merchants know one anowish some of the beauties of Bath ha'n't snapt ther.  The lady told me herself she was under the
your heart.                                      charge of four persons.
130




SCENEI.]  A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIFE.                                                  131
Free. Odso!'tis Miss Anne Lovely,.       - her father, my old master, was the most whimsical,
Col. P. The same-do you know -her? - -    out-of-the-way-tempered man.I ever heard of, as
Free. Know  her? ay-'Faith, colonel, your you will guess by his last will and testament.condition is more- desperate than you imagine. This was his- only child; and I have heard him
why, she is the talk and pity of the whole town; wish her dead a thousand times.:He died worth
and it is the opinion of the learned, that she -must thirty thousand pounds, which' he left to his
die a maid.   daughter, provided she married with the consent
Col. F. Say you -so  That's somewhat'odd, -of her guardians,: but that she might be sure never
in this charitable city.-She's a woman, I hope  I-to do so, he left her in the care of four men, as
Free. For aught I know —-but it had!been'as opposite to each other as'the four- elements: each
well for her had nature made her any other part has his quarterly rule, and three months in the
of the creation. The man who keeps this house' year she is obliged to be subject to each of their
served her father; he is a very honest fellow, and  humours,:: and they'are pretty different, I assure
may be of use to you: we'll send for him to take you.-She is just come from Bath. -
a glass with us: he'll give you her whole history,   Col. FP.'Twas there I saw her.
and'tis worth your hearing..     Sack. Ay,: Sir, the last quarter, was her beau
Col. F. But may one trust him               guardian's.  She appears in all public places duFree. With your life: I have obligations enough  ring his reign.
upon him,,to make him do any thing: I serve;him- Col. F. She visited:a lady who boarded in the
with wine.                           [Rings. same house with me: I liked her person, and
Col. F. Nay, I know him very well myself. I found an opportunity to tell her so. She replied,
once used to frequent a club that was kept here.  she had no objection to mine; Ibut:if I could not
reconcile contradictions, I must not think of her,
for that she was condemned to the caprice of four
Draw. Gentlemen, d'ye call-                 persons, who never yet agreed, in any one thing,
Free. Ay, send up your master.              and she was obliged to please them all.
Draw. Yes, Sir.'it.    Sack.'Tis most true, Sir: I'll give you a short
Col. F. Do you know any of this lady's guar- description of the men, and leave you to judge of
dians, Freeman?                               the poor lady's condition.  One is a kind of a
Free. I know two of them very well.         virtuoso, a silly half-witted fellow, but positive and
Enter SACIKBUT.                surly, fond of every thing antique and foreign, and
wears his clothes of the fashion of the last century,
Free. Here comes one will give you an account dotes upon travellers, and believes more of Sir
of them all., Mr. Sackbut, we sent for you to John Mandeville than he does of the Bible.
take a glass with us.'Tis a maxim among the    Col. F. That must be a rare odd fellow.
friends of the bottle, that as long as the master is   Sack. Another is a change-broker: a fellow that
in company, one may be sure of good wine..   will out-lie the devil for the advantage of stock,
Sack. Sir, you shall be sure to have as: good; and cheat his father that got him in a bargain: he
wine as you send in. Colonel, your most humble' is a great stickler for trade, and, hates:every man
servant; you are welcome to town.: -    - that wears a sword.
Col. F. I thank you, Mr. Sackbut.             Free. He is a great admirer of the Dutch
Sack. I am as glad to see you. as I'should a management, and swears they understand trade
hundred tun of French claret, custom free.-My  better than any nation under the sun.
service to you, Sir, [Drinks.] You don't look so:   Sack.'The third is an old beau, that has May
merry as you used'to do;'aren't:you well, colonel? in his fancy and dress, but December in his face
Free. He has got a woman in his -head, land- and his heels: he admires all new fashions, and
lord: can you help him?                      those must be French; loves operas, balls, masqueSack. If'tis in my power, I shan't scruple to, rades, and is always the most tawdry of the whole
serve my friend.                              company on a birth-day.
Col. F.'Tis one perquisite of your calling.  Col. F. These are pretty opposite one to anloSack. Ay, at'tother end of the town, where. ther, truly; and the fourth, what is he, landlord I
you officers use', women are good forcers-of trade:   S- ack. A very rigid quaker, whose quarter bea well-customed house, a handsome bar-keeper, gan this day. 1 saw Miss Lovely goin, not above
with clean obliging drawers, soon get the master two hours ago. Sir Philip set her down.' What
an estate; but our citizens seldom do any thing  think you now, colonel? Is not'the poor lady to
but cheat within the walls.-But as to the lady,: be pitied  
colonel, point you at particulars? or have you a    Col. F. Ay, and rescued-too, landlord.-'good Champagne stomach.-Are you in full pay,   Free.'Inmy opinion, that's impossible. -
or reduced. colonel         -                    Col. F. There is nothing impossible to a lover!
Col. F. Reduced, reduced, landlord!         W hat would not a man attempt for a fine woman
Free. To the miserable condition of a lover!   and thirty thousand pounds-? Besides, my honoum
Sack. Pish! that's preferable to half-pay: a is at stake: I promised to deliver her, and she bid
woman's resolution may break before the peace: me win her and wear her.
push her home, colonel, there's no parleying with    Sack. That's fair,'faith!
the fair sex.                                    Free. If it depended upon knight-errantry, I
Col. F. Were the lady her own mistress, I should not doubt your setting free the damsel; but
have some reasons to believe I should soon com- to have avarice, impertinence, hypocrisy, and
mand in chief.                                 pride, at once to deal with, requires more cunning
Free. You know Miss -Lovely, Mr. Sackbut? than generally attends a man of'honour.
Sack. Know her! Ay, poor Nancy: I have    Col. P. My fancy tells me  I shall come off with
carried her to school many a frosty. morning. glory. I resolve to try, however. Do you'know
Alas! if she's the woman, I pity you, colonel: all the guardians, Mr. Sackbut?




132                A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIFE.                                   ACTIIU.
Sack. Very well; they all use my house.    the woman has fortune enough to make the man
Col. F. And will you assist me, if occasion re- happy, if he has either honour or good manners,
quires.                                     he'll make her easy. Love makes but a slovenly
Sack. In every thing I can, colonel.      figure in a house, where poverty keeps the door.
Free. I'll answer for him.                   Betty. And so you resolve to die a maid, do
Col. F. First I'll attack my beau guardian: you, Madam?
where lives he.                 Miss L. Or have it in my power to make the
Sack.'Faith, somewhere about St. James'; man I love master of my fortune.
though to say in what street I cannot: but any   Betty. Then you don't like the colonel so well
chairman will tell you where Sir Philip Modelove as I thought you did, Madam, or you would not
lives.                                      take such a resolution.
Free. Oh! you'll find him in the Park at eleven   Miss L. It is because I do like him, Betty, that
every day; at least I never pass through at that I do take such a resolution.
hour without seeing him there-But what do you    Betty. Why, do you expect, Madam, the
intend?                                     colonel can work miracles. Is it possible for him
Col. F. To address him in his own way, and to marry you with the consent of all your guarfind what he designs to do with the lady.    dians?
Free. And what then                          M lliss L. Or he must not marry me at all, and
Col. F. Nay, that I can't tell; but I shall take so I told him; and he did not seem displeased with
my measures accordingly.                    the news.-He promised to set me free; and I, on
Sack. Well,'tis a mad undertaking, in my that condition, promised to make him master of
mind; but here's to your success, colonel.  that freedom.
[Drinks.   Betty. Well! I have read of enchanted castles,
Col. F.'Tis something out of the way, I con- ladies delivered from the chains of magic, giants
fess; but fortune may chance to smile, and I suc- killed, and monsters overcome; so that I shall be
ceed.                                        the less surprised if the colonel shall conjure you
out of the power of your four guardians: if he
Bold was the man who ventur'd first to sea,   does, I am sure he deserves your fortune.
But theJfirst vent'ring lovers bolder were.  Miss L. And shall have it, girl, if it were ten
The path of love's a dark and dang'rous way, times as much-For I'll ingenuously confess to
Without a land-mark or one friendly star.   thee, that I do love the colonel above all the men
And he, that runs the r.isk, deserves the fair.  I ever saw:-There's something so jantee in a
[Exeunt. soldier, a kind of je ne scais quoi air, that makes
them more agreeable than all the rest of mankind.
SCENE H. —An Apartment in PRIM's House. -They command regard, as who shall say, We
Enter MIss LOVELY, and her maid BETTY.   are your defenders; we preserve your beauties
from the insults of rude and unpolished foes, and
Betty. Bless me, Madam! why do you fret and ought to be preferred before those lazy indolent
tease yourself so! This is giving them the ad- mortals, who, by dropping into their father'
vantage, with a witness.                     estates, set up their coaches, and think to rattle
wMiss L. Must I be condemned all my life to themselves into our affections.
the preposterous humours of other people, and    Betty. Nay, Madam, I confess that the army
pointed at by every boy in town!-Oh-! I could has engrossed all the prettiest fellows-A laced
tear my flesh and curse the hour I was born. — coat and a feather have irresistible charms.
Isn't it monstrously ridiculous that they should   Miss L. But the colonel has all the beauties of
desire to impose their quaking dress upon me at the mind as well as the body.-O all ye powers
these years? When I was a child, no matter what that favour happy lovers, grant that he may be
they made me wear; but now-                  mine! Thou god of love, if thou be'st aught but
Betty. I would resolve against it, Madam; I'd name, assist my Feignwell!
see'em hanged before I'd put on the pinched cap
~~~~~~again.~~ ~ APoint all thy darts to aid his just design,
Miss L. Then I must never expect one mo-   Andmake his plots as prevalent as thine.
ment's ease: she has rung such a peal in my ears                               [Exeunt.
already, that I shan't have the right use of them             ACT  I
this month.-What can I do?
Betty. What can you not do, if you will but          SCENE I.-The Park.
give your mind to it 3 Marry, Madam.
Miss L. What! and have my fortune go to    SIR PHILIP MODELOVE on a bench, with a
build churches and hospitals!                             WOMAN masked.
Betty. Why, let it go. —If the colonel loves
you, as he pretends, he'll marry you without a    Sir P. Well but, my dear, are you really confortune, Madam; and 1 assure you a colonel's stant to your keeper?
lady is no despicable thing.                   lZonm. Yes, really, Sir.-Hey-day! who comes
Mliss L. So you would advise me to give up yonder.  He cuts a mighty figure.
my own fortune, and throw myself upon the   Sir P. Ha! a stranger, by his equipage keepcolonel's!                                  ing so close at his heels. —He has the appearance
Betty. I would advise you to make yourself of a man of quality.-Positively French, by his
easy, Madam.                                 dancing air.
Miss L. That's not the way, I'm sure. No,   Womr. He crosses, as if he meant to sit down
no, girl. there are certain ingredients to be min- here.
gled with matrimony, without which I may as   Sir P. He has a mind to make love to thee
well change for the worse as the better. When child.




SCENE I.]           A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIFE.                                      133
Enter COIONEL.               in Great Britain of late years. I was sure you
were French the moment I laid my eyes upon
Worn. It will be to no purpose if he does.  you; I could not come into the supposition of
Sir P. Are you resolved to be cruel then?  your being an Englishman: this island produces
Col. F. You must be very cruel indeed, if you few such ornaments.
can deny any thing to so fine a gentleman, Ma-   Col. F. Are you married, Sir Philip?
dam.                   [Takes out his watch.   Sir P. No; nor do I believe I shall ever enter
Womrn. I never mind the outside of a man.  into that honourable state: I have an absolute
Col. F. And I'm afraid thou art no judge of tendre for the whole sex.
the inside.                                    Col F. That's more than they have for you, I
Sir P. I am positively of your mind, Sir; for dare swear. [Aside.] I find I was very much miscreatures of her function seldom penetrate beyond taken-I imagined you had been married to that
the pocket.                                  young lady whom I saw in the chariot with you
Worn. Coxcombs!           [Aside, and exit. this morning in Gracechurch-street.
Sir P. Pray, what says your watch? mine is   Sir P. Who, Nancy Lovely? I am a piece of
down.                                        a guardian to that lady: you must know, her faCol. F. I want thirty-six minutes of twelve, ther, I thank him, joined me with three of the
Sir.                                         most preposterous old fellows-that, upon my soul,
[Puts up his watch, and takes out his snuff-box.  I am in pain for the poor girl: she must certainly
Sir P. May I presume, Sir.                lead apes, ha, ha!
Col. F. Sir, you honour me.                  Cot F. That's a pity, Sir Philip. If the lady
[Presenting the box. would give me leave, 1 would endeavour to avert
Sir P. He speaks good English-though he that curse.
must be a foreigner. [Aside.]-This snuff is ex-   Sir P. As to the lady, she'd gladly be rid of
tremely good-and the box prodigious fine: the us at any rate, I believe; but here's the mischief:
work is French, I presume, Sir.              he who marries Miss Lovely, must have the conCol. F. I bought it in Paris, Sir.-I do think sent of us all four-or not a penny of her portion.
the workmanship pretty neat.                 -For my part, I shall never approve of any but a
Sir P. Neat!'tis exquisitely fine, Sir. Pray, man of figure-and the rest are not only averse to
Sir, if I may take the liberty of inquiring-what cleanliness, but have each a peculiar taste to
country is so happy to claim the birth of the finest gratify.-For my part, I declare I would prefer
gentleman in the universe?  France, I presume. you to all men I ever saw.
Col. F. Then you don't think me an English-   Col. F. And I her to all womenman?-                                         Sir P. I assure you, Mr. Feignwell, I am for
Sir P. No, upon my soul, don't I.          marrying her, for I hate the trouble of a guardian,
Col. F. I am sorry for't.                  especially among such wretches; but resolve
Sir P. Impossible you should wish to be an never to agree to the choice of any one of them  -
Englishman! Pardon me, Sir, this island could and I fancy they'll be even with me, for they nonot produce a person of such alertness.      ver came into any proposal of mine yet.
Col. F. As this mirror shows you, Sir. [Puts   Col. F. I wish I had leave to try them, Sir
up a pocket-glass to SIR PHILIP'S face.] I know  Philip.
not how to distinguish you, Sir: but your mien    Sir P. With all my soul, Sir; I can refuse a
and address speak you right honourable.      person of your appearance nothing.
Sir P. Thus great souls judge of others by    Col. F. Sir, I am infinitely obliged to you.
themselves-I am onlv adorned with knighthood:   Sir P. But do you really like matrimony?
that's all, I assure you, Sir: my name is Sir   Col. F. I believe I could with that lady.
Philip Modelove.                               Sir P. The only point in which we differ.Col. F. Of French extraction?            But you are master of so many qualifications, that
Sir P. My father was French.               I can excuse one fault: for 1 must think it a fault
Col. P. One may plainly perceive it-There is in a fine gentleman: and that you are such, I'll
a certain gaiety peculiar to my nation (for I will give it under my hand.
own myself a Frenchman) which distinguishes   CoL. F. I wish you'd give me your consent to
us every where.-A person of your figure would marry Miss Lovely, under your hand, Sir Philip.
be a vast addition to a coronet.               Sir P. I'll do't, if you'll step into St. James'
Sir P. I must own I had the offer of a barony Coffee-house, where we may have pen and inkabout five years ago, but I abhorred the fatigue though I can't foresee what advantage my conwhich must have attended it.-I could never yet sent will be to you, without you can find a way
bring myself to join with either party.      to get the rest of the guardians.-But I'll introCol. F. You are perfectly in the right, Sir duce you, however. She is now at a quaker's,
Philip-a fine person should not embark himself where I earned her this morning, when. you saw
in the slovenly concern of politics: dress and plea- us in Gracechurch-street.-I assure you she has
sure are objects proper for the soul of a fine gen- an odd ragout of guardians, as you will find when
tleman.                                      you hear the characters, which I'll endeavour to
Sir P. And love —                         give you as we go along.-Hey! Pierre, Jacque,
Col F. Oh! that's included under the article Renno.-Where are you all, scoundrels?-Order
of pleasure.                                 the chariot to St. James' Coffee-house.
Sir P. Parbteu! il est un horrmme d'esprit.   Col. F. Le Noir, La Brun, La Blanc- -AIorMay I crave your name, Sir?                 bleu, ou sont ces coquins la? Allons, Monsieur
Col. F. My name is La Feignwell, Sir, at le Chevalier.
your service.                                  Sir P. Ah, pardonnez m.oi, Monsieur.
Sir P. The La Feignwells are French, I   Col. F. Not one step, upon my soul, Sir
know; though the name is become very numerous Philip.
12




134                A BO.LD STROKE FOR A. WIFE.                                [ACT4I.. Sir —P. The best bred.man in Europe,i posi-   Miss L. Ay, to keep the sun from scorching
tively.                            [Exeunt. me.
Obad. If- thou couldst. not bear the sunbeams,
how dost thou:think man can bear thy beams'
Enter Miss LOVELY and MRS. PRIM.         Those breasts inflame- desire: let them be hid, I
say.
Mrs. P. Then thou wilt not obey me: and syMiss L. Let me be quiet, I say. Must I be!thou dost really think those fal-lals become thee? tormented. thus for ever? Sure no woman's con-.Miss L: I do, indeed.                     dition ever equalled mine! Foppery, folly, avarice,
Mrs. P. Now will I be judged by all sober peo- and hypocrisy, are, by turns, my constant compie, if I don't look more like a modest woman than  panions-I cannot think' my father meant this
thou dost, Anne.                             tyranny!  No, you: usurp an authority which he
Miss L. More like a hypocrite, you mean, Mrs. never intended you should take.
Prim.                                          Obad. Hark thee, dost thou call good counsel
Mrs. P. Ah! Anne, Anne, that wicked Philip  tyranny? Do I or my wife tyrannise, when we
Modelove will undo thee.-Satan sofills thy heart desire thee in all love to put off thy tempting atwith pride, during the three months of his guar- tire?
dianship, that thou becomest a stumblingblock to    Miss L. I wish I were in my grave! Kill me
the upright.                                rather than treat me thus.
Miss L. Pray, who are they?  Are the pinch-    Obad. Kill thee! ha, ha! thou thinkest thou
ed cap and formal hood the emblems of sanctity? art acting some lewd play sure.-Kill thee? Art
Does your virtue consist, in your dress, Mrs. thou prepared for death, Anne Lovely? No, no,
Prim?:thou wouldst rather -.have a husband, Anne.MIVrs. P. It doth not consist in cut hair, spot- -Thou wantest a gilt coach, with six lazy fellows
ted face, and a bare neck.-Oh the wickedness of behind, to flaunt it in the ring of vanity, among
the generation! the primitive women knew not the princes and rulers of the land —who pamper
the abomination of hooped petticoats.       themselves with the fatness thereof; but I will
Miss L. No; nor the abomination of cant nei- take care that none shall squander away thy father. Don't tell me, Mrs. Prim, dont. — know  ther's estate; thou shalt marry none such, Anne.
you have as much pride, vanity, self-conceit, and'  Miss L. Would you marry me to one of your
ambition among you, pouched under that formal own canting sect.
habit and sanctified countenance, as the proudest   Obad. Yea, verily, no one else shall ever get
of us all; but the world begins to see your pru- my consent, I do assure thee, Anne.
dery.                        t1/Iiss L. And I do assure thee, Obadiah, that I
MPirs. P. Prudery! What! do they invent new  will as soon turn papist, and die in a convent.
words as well as new fashions? Ah! poor fan-   Mrs. P. 0 wickedness!
tastic age, 1 pity thee.-Poor deluded Anne, which    Miss L. 0 stupidity!
dost thou think most resembleth the saint, and    Obad. 0 blindness of heart!
which the sinner, thy dress or mine 7 Thy naked.Miss L. Thou blinder of the world, don't probosom allureth the eye of the by-stander-en- voke me-lest I betray your' sanctity, and leave
courageth the frailty of human nature-and cor- your wife to judge of your purity. —What were
rupteth the soul with evil longings.         the emotions of your spirit-when you squeezed
Miss L. And pray who corrupted your son Mary by the. hand last night in the pantry?Tobias with evil longings? Your maid Tabitha When she told you, you bussed so filthily? Ah!
wore a handkerchief, and yet he made the saint a you had no aversion to naked bosoms, when you
sinner.                                      begged her to show you a little, little, little, bit of
-M lrs. P. Well, well, spit thy malice. I con- her delicious bosom-Don't you remember those
fess Satan'did buffet my son Tobias, and my ser- words, Mr. Prim?
vant' Tabitha: the evil spirit was at that time too    _IMrs. P. What does she say, Obadiah'
strong, and they both became subject to its work-   Obad. She talketh unintelligibly, Sarah.ings-not from any outward provocation-but Which way did she hear this?  This should not
from an inward call: he was not tainted with the have reached the ears of the wicked ones:-verily,
rottenness of'the fashions, nor did his eyes take it troubleth me.               [Aside.
in the drunkenness of beauty.
1Miss.L. No! that's plainly to be seen.                Enter SERVANT.
Mirs. P. Tabitha is one of the faithful: he fell
not with a strander~'Serv, Philip Modelove, whom  they call Sir
not with a stranger.
Miss. So! then you hold wenching no crime, Philip, is below, and such another with him:
shall I send them up?
provided it be within the pale of your own tribe. shall I send them up?
-You are an excellent casuist, truly!ad. Yea. 
Enter OBADIAH PRIM.'             Enter SIR PHILIP MODELOVE and COLONEL
FEIGNWELL.
Obad. N.ot stripped of thy vanity yet, Anne!
Why dost thou not make her put it off, Sarah?  Sir P. How dost thou do, friend Prim? Odso!
Mrs. P. She'will not do it.               my she friend here. too! What, are you docuObad. Verily,,thy naked bosom troubleth my menting Miss Nancy?  Reading her a lecture
utward.man  i t pray thee' hide, it, Anne: -put on upon the pinched coif, I wai rant ye!
a handkerchief, Anne Lovely.                   Mrs. P. 1 am sure.thou didst never read her
Miss L.  I hate handkerchiefs when'tis not any lecture that was good.-My flesh so riseth
=old weather, Mr. Prim.                      at these wicked ones, that prudence adviseth me.Obad. I have seen'thee wear a handkerchief, to withdraw from their sight.      [Exit.
nay, and a mask to boot, in the middle of July.    - Col. F. Oh, that I could find means to speak




SCENE Il]           A- BOLD STROKE- FOR A WIFE.                                   135
with her! How charming she appears! I wish, I   Trade. Well, Sir Philip, I obey your sumcould get this letter into her hand.  [Aside. mons.
- Sir P. Well, Miss, I hope thou hast got the   Per. Pray, what have you to offer for the good
better of them.                              of Miss Lovely, Sir Philip?!Miss L. The difficulties of my life are not to   Sir P. First, I desire to know what you intend
be surmounted, -Sir Philip.-I hate the imperti- to do with that lady? Must she be sent to the
nence: ofl him as much as the stupidity of the Indies for a venture-or live an old maid, and
other.:  [Aside. then be entered amongst your curiosities, and
- Obad. V-erily, Philip, thou wilt spoil this maid- shown for a monster, Mr. Periwinkle?
en.                                            Col. F.  Humph, curiosities; that must be the
Sir P. I find we still differ in opinion; but that virtuoso.                   [Aside.
we may none of us spoil her, pr'ythee, Prim, let   Per.'Why, what would you do with her?
us consent to marry her.-I have sent for our   Sir P. I would recommend this gentleman to
brother guardians to meet me here about this her for a husband, Sir-a person whom I have
very thing.-Madam, will you give me leave to picked out from the whole race of mankind.
recommend a husband to you?-Here's a gen-   Obad. I would advise thee to shuffle him again
tleman, whom, in my mind, you can have no ob- with the rest of mankind; for I like him not.
jection to.                                    Col. F. Pray, Sir, without offence to your for[Presents COLONEL; she looks another way. mality, what may be your objections?
-Miss L. Heaven deliver me from the formal   Obad. Thy person, thy manners, thy dress.
and the fantastic fool  thy acquaintance,-thy every thing, friend.
Col. F. A fine woman-a fine horse, and fine   Sir P. You are most particularly obliging.
equipage, are the finest things in the universe: friend. Ha, ha!
and if I am so happy to possess you, Madam, I   Trade. What business do you follow, pray,
shall become the envy of mankind, as much as Sir?
you outshine your whole sex.                   Col. F. Humph, by that question he must be
[As he takes her hand, he tries to put a letter the broker. [Aside.] Business, Sir i the business
-into it: it drops-PRIM takes it up. of a gentleman.
[iss L. I have no ambition to appear conspicu-   Trade. That is as much as to say, you dress
ously ridiculous, Sir.  [Turning from, him. fine, feed high, lie with every woman you like,
Col. F. So fail the hopes of Feignwell.   and pay your surgeon's bills better than your
Aliss L. Ha!. Feignwell!'tis he! What have tailor's or your butcher's.
I done?:Prim has the letter, and it will be dis-   Col. F. The court is much obliged to you, Sir,
covered.                             [Aside  for: your character of a gentleman.
Obad. Friend, I know not thy name, so can-   Trade. The court, Sir! What would the court
not call thee by it; but thou seest thy letter is un- do without us citizens 1
welcome to the maiden; she will not read it.   Sir P. Without your wives and daughters,
~ /Miss L. Nor shall you; [Snatches the letter.] you mean, Mr. Tradelove.
I'll tear it in a thousand pieces, and scatter it, as   Per. Have you ever travelled, Sir?
I will the hopes of all those that any of you shall   Col... - That question must not be answered
recommend to me.            [Tears the letter. now. [Aside.] In books I have, Sir.
Sir P. Ha! Right woman,'faith!          I  Per. In books! That's fine travelling indeed!
Col. F. Excellent woman!         [Aside. -Sir Philip, when you present a person I like,
Obad. Friend, thy garb savoureth too much of he shall have my consent to marry Miss Lovely;
the vanity of the age for my approbation; nothing till when, your servant.        [Exit.
that resembleth Philip Modelove shall I love;   Col. F. I'll make you like me before I have
mark that,-therefore, friend Philip, bring no more done with you, or I am mistaken.  [Aside.
of thy own apes under my roof.                 Trade. And when you can convince me that
Sir P. 1 am so entirely a stranger to the mon- a beau is more useful to my country than a mersters of thy breed, that I shall bring none of them, chant, you shall have mine; till then, you must
I am sure.                                  excuse me.                            [Exit.
Col. F. I am likely to have a pretty task by the   Col. F. So much for trade-I'll fit you too.
time 1 have gone through them all; but she's a                                    [Aside.
city worth taking, and'egad I'll carry on the    Sir P. In my opinion this is very inhuman
siege: if I; can but blow up the outworks, I fancy treatment, as to the lady, Mr. Prim.
I am pretty secure of the town.     [Aside.   Obad. Thy opinion and mine happen to differ
as much as our occupations, friend: business reEnter SERVANT.                quireth my presence, and folly thine; and so I
Serv. Toby Periwinkle and Thomas Trade- must bid thee farewell.                 [Exit.
love demand to see thee.    [To SiR PHILIP.   Sir P. Here's breeding for you, Mr. Feignwell!-Gad take me.
Sir P. Bid them come up.  [Exit SERVANT.
Miss L. Deliver me from such an inundation     Half my estate I'd give to see'erm bit.
of noise and nonsense. Oh, Feignwell! what-   Col. F. I hop     e you all, if my plot hit.
ever thy contrivance be, prosper it, heaven.                                    [Exeunt
[Exit.
Sir P. Sic transit gloria mundi!
SCENVE I.-A Tavern.
Enter PERIWINKLE and TRADELOVE.
-COLONEL FEIGNW ELL in an Egyptian dress, with
These: are my brother guardians, Mr. Feignwell.              SACKBUT.
-Pr'ythee, observe the creatures.            Sack. A lucky beginning, colonel-you have
[Aside to COLONEL FEIGNWELL. got the old beau's consent.




136                A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIFE.                                   [ACT Ir.
Col. F. Ay, he's a reasonable creature; but der that your taste is so refined; why you have it
the other three will require some pains. Shall in your blood.-My humble service to you, Sir;
I pass upon him, think you''Egad, in my mind, to the immortal memory of John Tradescant, your
I look as antique as if I had been preserved in the never-to-be-forgotten uncle.  [Drinks.
ark.                                            Col. F. Give me a glass, landlord.
Sack. Pass upon him! ay, ay, if you have as-   Per. I find you are primitive, even in your
surance enough.                              wine: Canary was the drink of our wise foreCol. F. I have no apprehension from  that fathers;'tis balsamic, and saves the charge of
quarter; assurance is the cockade of a soldier.'pothecaries' cordials-Oh! that I had lived in
Sack. Ay, but the assurance of a soldier differS your uncle's days! or rather, that he were now
much from that of a traveller-Can you lie with alive!-Oh! how proud he'd be of such a nea good grace'                               phew!
Col. F. As heartily, when my mistress is the    Sack. Oh pox! that would have spoiled the
prize, as I would meet the foe when my country jest.                               [Aside.
called and king commanded: so don't you fear   Per. A person of your curiosity must have col
that part: if he don't know me again, I am safe. lected many rarities.
-I hope he'll come.                             Col. F. I have some, Sir, which are not yet
Sack. I wish all my debts would come as sure: come ashore; as, an Egyptian idol.
I told him  you had been a great traveller, had    Per. Pray what may that be?
many valuable curiosities, and was a person of    Col. F. It is, Sir, a kind of an ape, which they
most singular taste: he seemed transported, and formerly worshipped in that country: I took it
begged me to keep you till he came.          from the breast of a female mummy.
Col. F. Ay, ay, he need not fear my running    Per. Ha, ha! our women retain part of their
away.-Let's have a bottle of sack, landlord; our idolatry to this day; for many an ape lies on a
ancestors drank sack.                        lady's breast, ha, ha!
Sack. You shall have it.                     Sack. A smart old thief.            [Aside.
Col. P. And whereabouts is the trap-door you    Col. F. Two tusks of an hippopotamus, two
mentioned'                                  pair of Chinese nut-crackers, and one Egyptian
Sack. There's the conveyance, Sir.   [Exit. mummy.
Col. F. Now, if I should cheat all these roguish    Per. Pray, Sir, have you never a crocodile?
guardians, and carry off my mistress in triumph,   Col. F. Humph! the boatswain brought one
it would be what the French call a grand coup with a design to show it, but, touching at Rotd'eclat.-Odso! here comes Periwinkle.-Ah! I terdam, and hearing it was no rarity in England,
deuce take this beard; pray Jupiter, it does not he sold it to a Dutch poet.-Lookye, Sir, do you
give me the slip, and spoil all.             see this little vial'
Enter SACKBUT with wine, PERIWINKLE follow-   Per. Pra      is called poluflosboio.
ing.                        Col. F. This is called poluflosboio.
~ng-    Per. Poluflosboio!-It has a rumbling sound.
Sack. Sir, this gentleman. hearing you have    Col F. Right, Sir; it proceeds from a rumbling
been a great traveller, and a person of fine specu- nature-This water was part of those waves
lation, begs leave to take a glass with you: he is which bore Cleopatra's vessel, when she sailed to
a man of a curious taste himself.            meet Antony.
Col. F. The gentleman has it in his face and    Per. Well, of all that travelled, none had a
garb; Sir, you are welcome.                  taste like you.
Per. Sir, I honour a traveller and men of your   Col. F. But here's the wonder of the world.
inquiring disposition; the oddness of your habit This, Sir, is called zona, or moros musphonon:
pleases me extremely:'tis very antique, and for the virtues of this are inestimable.
that I like it.                                Per. Moros musphonon! What in the name
Col. F.'Tis very antique, Sir:-this habit of wisdom can that be' —to me, it seems a plain
once belonged to the famous Claudius Ptolemeus, belt.
who lived in the year one hundred and thirty-   Col. F. This girdle has carried me all the
five.                                        world over.
Sack. If he keeps up to the sample, he shall lie   Per. You have carried it, you mean.
with the devil for a bean-stack, and win it every    Col. F. I mean as I say.-Whenever I am
straw.                               [Aside. girded with this, I am invisible! and by turning
Per. A hundred and thirty-five! why, that's this little screw, can be in the court of the great
prodigious now!-Well, certainly'tis the finest mogul, the grand signior, and king George, in as
thing in the world to be a traveller.        little time as your cook can poach an egg.
Col. F. For my part, I value none of the mo-   Per. You must pardon me, Sir, I can't bedern fashions a fig-leaf.                    lieve it.
Per. No more don't I, Sir: 1 had rather be the    Col. F. If my landlord pleases, he shall try the
jest of a fool than his favourite-I am laughed at experiment immediately.
here for my singularity.-This coat, you must   Sack. I thank you kindly, Sir; but I have no
know, Sir, was formerly worn by that ingenious inclination to ride post haste to the devil.
and very learned person, Mr. John Tradescant,   Col. F. No, no, you sha'n't stir afoot; I'll only
of Lambeth.                                  make you invisible.
Col. F. John Tradescant! Let me embrace   Sack. But if you could not make me visible
you, Sir-John Tradescant was my uncle, by my again.
mother's side; and I thank you for the honour   Per. Come, try it upon me, Sir; I am not
you dG his memory; he was a very curious man afraid of the devil nor all his tricks.-'Sbud, I'll
indeed.                                      stand'em all.
Per. Your uncle, Sir-Nay, then it is no won-   Col. F. There, Sir, put it on.-Come, landlord,




SCENE I.'            A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIFE.                                         137
you and I must face the east. [They turn.] Is it pride and foppery of the times, can boast of such
on, Sir?                                      a foretop as the cockatoo?
Per.'Tis on.            [They turn again.    Col. F. I must humour him. [Aside.] Such a
Sack. Heaven protect me! where is he?       skin as the lizard?
Per.'Why here, just where I was.              Per. SiUch a shining breast as the humming,
Sack. Where, where, in the name of virtue?  bird? 
Ah, poor Mr. Periwinkle!-'Egad, look to't, you    Col. F. Such a shape as the antelope?
had best, Sir; and let him be seen again, or I shall   Per. Or. in all the artful mixture of their varn.
have you burned for a wizard.                  ous dresses, have they half the beauty of one box
Col. F. Have patience, good landlord.        of butterflies?
Per. But really don't you see me now?          Col. F. No; that must be allowed. For in
Sack. No more than I see my grandmother, part, if it were not for the benefit of mankind, I'
that died forty years ago.                     have nothing to do with them; for they are as in
Per. Are you sure you don't lie? Methinks I different to me as a sparrow or a flesh-fly.
stand just where I did, and see you as plain as I    Per. Pray, Sir, what benefit is the world to
did before.                                    reap from this lady?
Sack. Ah! I wish 1 could see you once again.   Col. F  Why, Sir, she is to bear me a son, who
Col. F. Take offthe girdle, Sir.             shall revive the art of embalming, and the old
[He takes it off  Roman manner of burying the dead; and for the
Sack. Ah, Sir, I am glad to see you with all benefit of posterity, he is to discover the longitude
my heart.                     [Embraces him. so long sought for in vain.
Per. This is very odd; certainly there must be    Per.'Od! these are valuable things, Mr. Sacksome trick in't.-Prav, Sir, will you do me the  but!
favour to put it on yourself?                     Sack. He hits it off admirably; and t'other
Col. F. With all my heart.                   swallows it like sack and sugar. [Aside.] CerPer. But first I'll secure the door.         tainly this lady must be your ward,. Mr. PeriCol. F. You know how to turn the screw, Mr. winkle, by her being under the care of four perSackbut.                                       sons.
Sack. Yes, yes-Come, Mr. Periwinkle, we    Per. By the description, it should-'Egad, if
must turn full east.                           I could get that girdle, I'd ride with the sun, and
[They turn; COLONEr. sinks by the trap-door. make the tour of the world in four-and-twenty
Col. F.'ris done; now turn.    [They turn. hours. [Aside.] And you are to give that girdle
Per. Hai! mercy upon me; my flesh creeps to the first of the four guardians that shall give
upon my bones.-This must be a conjurer, Mr. his consent to'marry that lady, say you, Sir 2
Sackbut.                                          Col. F. I am so ordered, when I can find him.
Sack. He's the devil, 1 think.                 Per. I fancy I know the very woman-her
Per. Oh, Mr. Sackbut, why do you name the name is Anne Lovely.
devil, when perhaps he may be at your elbow ~.  Col. F. Excellent!i-He said, indeed, that the
Sack. At my elbow! Marry, heaven forbid!   first letter of her name was L.
Col. F. Are you satisfied?                    Per. Did he really?-Well, that's prodigious[From under the Stage. ly amazing, that a person in Grand Cairo should
Per. Yes, Sir, yes-How  hollow  his voice know asy thing of my ward,
sounds!'                    Col. PF. Your ward!
Sack. Yours seemed just the same —'Faith, I    Per. To be plain with you, Sir, I am one of
wish this girdle were mine, I'd sell wine no more. those four guardians.
Harkye: Mr. Periwinkle, [ Takes him aside tilt   Col. F. Are you indeed, Sir? I am transportthe COTL,ONELr rises again.] if he would sell this ed to find that the man who is to possess this
girdle, you might travel with great expedition.    moros musphonon is a person of so curious a taste
Col. F. But it is not to be parted with, for -Here is a writing drawn up by that famous
money.                                         Egyptian, which if you will please to sign, you
Per. I am sorry for't, Sir, because I think it must turn your face full north, and the girdle is
the greatest curiosity I ever heard of.        yours.
Col. P. By the advice of a learned physiogno-   Per. If I live till the boy is born, I'll be elnmist in Grand Cairo. who consulted the lines in balmed, and sent to the Royal Society, when I die.
my face, T returned to England, where he told me    Col. F. That you shall, most certainly.
I should find a rarity in the keeping of four men,            Enter DR
which I was born to possess for the benefit of
mankind: and the first of the four that gave me    Draw. Here's Mr. Staytape, the tailor, inhis consent, I should present him with this girdle quires for you, colonel.
-Till I have found this jewel, I shall not part   Col. F. Who do you speak to, you son of a
with the girdle.                               whore?
Per. What can this rarity be? Didn't he name    Per. Ha! colonel.                  [Aside.
it to you?                                       Col. P. Confound the blundering dog! [Aside.
Col. F. Yes, Sir: he called it a chaste, beauti:   Draw. Why to colonelful, unaffected woman.                            Sack. Get you out, you rascal.
Per. Pish! women are no rarities; women are                                 [Kicks him out.
the very gewgaws of the creation; playthings for   Draw. What the devil is the matter?
boys, who when they write man they ought to    Col. F. This dog has ruined all my schemes,
throw aside.                                   I see by Periwinkle's looks.            rAside.
Sack. A fine lecture to be read to a circle of   Per. How finely I should have been choused
ladies!                                [Aside. -Colonel, you'll pardon me that I did not give
Per. What woman is there, dressed in all the you your title before-it was pure ignorance,
VOL. I.... S       12*




138                A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIFE.                                 lAc Tv.'faith it was. Pray-hem-hem! Pray, colonel, it would not be amiss if you went down to-molwhat post had this learned Egyptian in your regi- row morning.
ment?                                          Per. It is a long journey, and the roads very
Col. F'. A pox of your sneer! [Aside.] I don't bad.
understand you, Sir.                           Free. But he has a great estate, and the land
Per No, that's strange! I understand you, very good-Think upon that.
colonel-An Egyptian of Grand Cairo I ha, ha,   Per. Why that's true, as you say; I'll think
ha! I am sorry such a well-invented tale should upon it. In the mean time, I give you many
do you no more service. We old fellows can see thanks for your civility, Mr. Freeman, and should
as far into a millstone as them that pick it. I am  be glad of your company to dine with me.
not to be tricked out of my trust-mark that.   Free. I am obliged to be at Jonathan's CoffeeCol F. The devil! I must carry it off; I wish house at two, and now it is half an hour after one;
I were fairly out. [Aside.] Lookye, Sir, you may if 1 despatch my business, I'll wait on you; I
make what jest you please, but the stars will be know your hour.
obeyed, Sir; and depend upon't I shall have the    Per. You shall be very welcome, Mr. Freelady, and you none of the girdle. Now for Mr. man, and so your humble servant.    [Exit.
Freeman's part of the plot.    [Aside; exit.  Re-enter COLONEL FEIGNWELL and SACKaUT.
Per. The stars! ha, ha! No star has favoured
you, it seems. The girdle! ha, ha, ha! none of   Free. Ha, ha, ha! I have done your business
your legerdemain tricks can pass upon me. Why, colonel; he has swallowed the bait.
what a pack of trumpery has this rogue picked up    Col. F. I overheard all, though I am a little in
-His pagod, poluflosboio, his zonos, moros mus-  dark. I am to personate a highwayman, I
phonons, and the devil knows what —But I'll take suppose-that's a project I am not fond of; for
care-Ha, gone! Ay,'twas time to sneak off: though I may fright him out of his consent, he
Soho! the house!                           may fright me out of my life when he discovers
me, as he certainly must in the end.
Free. No, no; I have a plot for you without
TWhere is this trickster? Send for a constable; danger; but first we must manage TradeloveI'll have this rascal before the lord mayor; I'lI Has the tailor brought your clothes!
Grand Cairo him, with a pox to him-I believe   Sack. Yes, pox take the thief.
you had a hand in putting this imposture upon   Free. Well, well, no matter; I warrant we
me, Sackbut.                                 have him yet-But now  you must put on the
Sack. Who, I, Mr. Periwinkle  I scorn it. I Dutch merchant.
perceived he was a cheat, and left the room on    Col. F. The deuce of this trading plot-I wish
purpose to send for a constable to apprehend him, he had been an old soldier, that I might have atand endeavoured to stop him when he went out tacked him in my own way, heard him fight over
-But the rogue made but one step from the stairs all the battles of the late war. But, for trade, by
to the door, called a coach, leaped into it, and Jupiter, I shall never do it.
drove away like the devil, as Mr. Freeman  can   Sack. Never fear, colonel: Mr. Freeman wilt
witness, who is at the bar, and desires to speak instruct you.
with you; he is this minute come to town.      Free. You'll see what others do: the coffeePer. Send him in. [Exit SACKBUT.] What a house will instruct you.
scheme this rogue has laid! How I should have    Col. F. -I must venture, however-But I have
been laughed at, had it succeeded!          a further plot in my head upon Tradelove, which
you must assist me in, Freeman; you are in credit
Enter FREEMAN, booted and spurred.      with him, I heard you say.
Mr. Freeman, I had like to have been imposed on    Free. I am, and will scruple nothing to serve
by the veriest rascal-                      you, colonel.
Free. I am sorry to hear it-The dog flew    Col. F. Come along then. Now for the Dutchfor't: he had not'scap'd me, had I been aware of man    Honest Ptolemy, by your leave.
him; Sackbut struck at him, but missed his blow, Now must bob-wig and business come in play -
or he had done his business for him.        A thirty thousand pound girl leads the way.
Per. 1 believe you never heard of such a con-                                [Exeunn
trivance, Mr. Freeman, as this fellow had found               ACT IV
out.
Free. Mr. Sackbut has told me the whole story,    SCENE I-JONATHAN'S Coee-house in
Mr. Periwinkle; but now I have something to'Change Alley.
tell you of much more importance to yourself —I
happened to lie one night at Coventry, and know-  Enter TRADELOVE and STOcK-JOBBERS, vith
ing your uncle, Sir Toby Periwinkle, I paid him             rolls of paper.
a visit, and, to my great surprise, found him dy-   I Stock. South-sea at seven-eighths; who buys?
ing.                                           Trade. Harkye, Gabriel, you'll pay the diffirPer. Dying!                              ence of that stock we transacted for t'other day?
Free. Dying, in all appearance; the servants   Gab. Ay, Mr. Tradelove, here's a note for the
weeping, the room in darkness; the'pothecary, money.
shaking his head. told me the doctors had given    Trade. I would fain bite the spark in the browr
him over.; and then there are small hopes, you coat: he comes very often into the alley, but never
know.                                        employs a broker.
Per. I hope he has made his will-he'always   EnterCOLONL FEIGNWELL  d FREAN.
told me he would make me his heir.
Free. I have heard you say as much, and there-   Trade. Mr. Freeman, yvour servant. Who le
fore resolved to give you notice. I should think that gentleman?




SCENE II.]         A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIFE.                                      139
-Free. A Dutch merchant just come to Eng  -Trade.'Tis so true, mynheer, that I'll lay you
land; but, harkye, Mr. Tradelove-I have a piece two thousand pounds on it.
Of news will get you as much as the French king's   Col. F. Two duysend pound, mynheer,'tis
death did, if you are.expeditious. [Showing him  gadaen-dis gentleman sal hold de gelt.
a letter.] Read there.; I received. it just now from.         [ Gives FREEMAN money.
one that belongs to.the emperor's minister.. Trade. With  all my heart —..this binds the
wager.
Trade. [Reads.] Sir,-As I have many obli- Free.  You havecertainlylost, mynheer; the
gations to you, I cannot miss any opportunity to siege raised indeed.
show my gratitude: this moment my lord has   Col. F. Ik geloy't niet, mynheer Freeman, ik
received a private express, that the Spaniards sal ye dubbled honden, if you please.,have raised their siege from Oefore Cagliari. If   Free. I am let into the secret, therefore wont
this proves of any advantage to you, it will an- win your money.
swer both the ends and wishes of, Sir, your most   Trade. Ha, ha, ha! I have snapped the Dutchobliged humble servant,                      man,'faith, ha, ha! this is no ill day's work.HENRICUS DUSSELDORP. Pray, may I crave your name, mynheer?
P. S. In two or three hours the news will be   Col. F. Myn naem, mynheer 2 myn naem is
- uRDlic.                                    Jan Van Timtamtirelereletta Heer Van FeignMay one depend upon this, Mr. Freeman?      well.
[Aside to FREEMAN.   Trade. Zounds.'tis a damned long name; I
Free. You may-I never knew  this person shall never remember it-Myn Heer Van, Tim,
send me a false piece of news in my life.    Tim, Tim-What the devil is it?
Trade. Sir, 1 am much obliged to you:'egad,   Free. Oh! never heed:I know the gentleman,'tis rare news-Who sells South-sea, for next and will pass my word for twice the sum.
week?                                         Trade. That's enough.
Stock. [All together.] I sell; I, I, I, I, I sell.  Col. F. You'll hear of me sooner than you
I Stock. I'll sell five thousand for next week, wish, old gentleman, 1 fancy. [Aside.] You'll
at five eighths.                             come- to Sackbut's, Freeman?
2 Stock. I'll sell ten thousand, at five eighths,                   [Aside to FREEMAN
for the same time.                             Free. Immediately.  [Aside to the COLONEL,.
Trade. Nay, nay; hold, hold; not all together,   Trade. Mr. Freeman,.I give you many thanks
gentlemen: I'll be no bull; I'll buy no more than for your kindness1 can take: will you sell ten thousand pounds, at   Free. I fear you'll repent when you know all.
a half, for any day next week, except Saturday.?                                 Aside.
1 Stock. I'll sell it you, Mr. Tradelove.    Trade. Will you dine with me?
[FR:EEMAN whispers to one of the Gentlemen.   Free. I am engaged at Sackbut's: adieu.
I Gent. The Spaniards raised the siege of                                       [Exit.
Cagliari'? I don't believe one word of it.. Trade. Sir, your humble servant. Now I'll
[Aside. see what I can do upon'Change with my news
2 Gent. Raised the siege l as much as you have                                [Exeunt.
raised the Monument.
Free.'Tis raised, I assure you, Sir.
2 Gent. What will you lay on't?            Enter FREEM.N and COLONEL FEIGNWELL.
Free. What you please.
1 Gent. Why I have a brother upon the spot,   Free. Ha, ha, ha! the old fellow swallowed the
in the emperor's service: I am certain, if there bait as greedily as a gudgeon.
were any such thing, I should have had a letter.    Col. F. 1 have him,'faith, ha, ha, ha! His two
2 Gent. I'll hold you fifty pounds'tis false.    thousand pounds secure-If he would keep his
Free.'Tis done.                          money, he must part with the lady, ha, ha!
2 Gent. I'll lay you a brace of hundreds upon           Enter SACKBUT.
the same.
Free. I'll take you.                        Sack. Joy, joy, colonel! the luckiest accident in
Trade. I'll lay any man a brace of thousands the world.
the siege is raised.                          Cal. F. What say'st thou.
Free. The Dutch merchant is your man to   Sack. This letter does your business.
take in.               [Aside to ZTRADELOVE.   Col. F. [Reads.] To OBADIAH PRIM, HosiL,,
Trade. Does he not know the news. near the Building called the Monument, in LonFree. Not a syllable; if he did he would bet a don.
hundred thousand pounds as soon as one penny    Free. A letter to Prim  How came you by it?
-he's plaguy rich, and -a mighty man at wagers.   Sack. Looking over the letters our post-woman
-  To TRADELOVE. brought, as I always do, to see what letters are
Trade. Say you  EadI'll bite him, if directed to my house, (for she can't read, you
possible —Are you from Holland, Sir?.      must know,) I spied this, directed to Prim, so
Col. F. Ya, mynheer.                      paid for it among the rest. I have given the old
Trade. Had you the news before you came jade apint of wine, on purpose to delay time, till
awayv                                        you see if the letter be of any service; then I'll
Cat. F. What believe you, mynheer? -      seal it up again, and tell her I took it by mistake.
Trade. What. do -I believe?  iVhy i believe -I have read it, and fancy you'll like the project.
that the Spaniards have actually raised the siege -Read, read, colonel.
of Cagliari.                                   Col. F. [Reads.] Friend Prim, there is, a'C'ol. F. What duyvel's news is dat?'Tis niet rived from Pennsylvania, one Simon Pure, a
waer, mynheer-'tis no true, Sir.            leader of the faithful, who hath sojourned with




140                A BOLD STROKE FOR A WiFE.                                  [ACT IV.
us eleven days, and hath been of great comfort to tain: I wish I knew who he was; I'd make him
the brethren.-He intendeth for the quarterly repent it —I have lost three hundred pounds
meeting in London; I have recommended him  by it.
to thy house. I pray thee treat him kindly, and    Trade. What signifies your three hundred
let thy wife cherish him, for he's of a weakly pounds to what I have lost i There's two thouconstitution-he will depart from us the third sand pounds to that Dutchman with a cursed long
day; which is all from thyfriend in thefaith,  name, besides the stock I bought: the devil! I
AMINADAB HOLDFAST. could tear my flesh-I must never show my face
Ha, ha! excellent! I understand you, landlord: upon'Change more;-for, by my soul, I can't
I am.o personate this Simon Pure, am I not  pay it.
Sacki~. Don't you like the hint 2            Free. I am heartily sorry for it! What can I
Col. F. Admirably well!                   serve you in? Shall I speak to the Dutch merFree.'Tis the best contrivance in the world, chant, and try to get you time for the payment?
Trade. Time! Ads'heart! I shall never be
if the right Simon gets not there before you-  Trade. Time! Adsheart! I shall never be
Col. F. No, no, the quakers never ride post; Free I am very much concerned that I was
and suppose, Freeman, you should wait at the
Bristol coach, that if you see any such person, you the occasion, and wish I could be an instrument
the occasion, and wish I could be an instrument
Brmightol coachntrive that if you see any such person, youof retrieving your misfortunes; for my own, I value
might contrive to give me notice-                                                a
9Free. I will.                [Bell inl   it not. Adso, a thought comes into my head, that,
Free. I will.                 [Bell rings.
Sack. Coming, coming!              [Exit.  well improved, may be of service.
Trade. Ah! there's no thought can be of any
Free. Thou must despatch Periwinkle first —! there's no thought can be of an
Remember his uncle, Sir TIoby Periwinkle, is an  service to me, without paying the money or runold bachelor of seventy-five-that he has seven ning away.
hundred a year, most in abbey-land-that he was   Free. How do ye know? What do you think
once in love with your mother; shrewdly suspect-  f my proosing Miss Lovely to him say   He is a
ed by some to be your father —That you have single man-and I heard him say he had a mind
been thirty years his steward-and ten years his to marry an English  woman-nay, more than
gentleman-remember to improve these hints.    that, he said somebody told him you had a pretty
Col. F. Never fear; let me alone for that-but ward-he wished you had betted her instead of
what's the steward's name  your money.
Trade. Ay, but he'd be hanged before he'd
Freeol.   isF. Enough-Now for the country put take her instead of the money: the Dutch are too
covetous for that; besides, he did not know that
Enter SACKEuT.                there were three more of us, I suppose.
Sack. Zounds! Mr. Freeman, yonder is Trade-   Free. So much the better; you may venture to
love in the damned'st passion in the world.-He  give him your consent, if he'll forgive you the
swears you are in the house-he says you told  wager. It is not your business to tell him that
him you were to dine here.                  your consent will signify nothing.
Free. I did so, ha, ha, ha! he has found him-    Trade. That's right, as you say; but will he
self bit already.                            do it, think you?
Col. F. The devil! he must not see me in this   Free. I can't tell that; but I'll try what I can
dress now.                                   do with him. —He has promised to meet me here
Sack [ told him Iexpected you here, but you an hour hence; I'll feel his pulse, and let you
were not come yet. expecte  youereb       know. If I find it feasible, I'll send for you; if
Free. Very well-make you haste out, colonel, not, you are at liberty to take what measures you
and let me alone to deal with him: where is he  please.
Sack. In the King's-head.                    Trade. You must extol her beauty, double her
Free. Ay, ay, very well. Landlord, let him  portion, and tell him I have the entire disposal of
know I am come in-and now, Mr. Pillage, suc- her, and that she can't marry without my consent
cess attend you.            [ExitZ SACKBUT. — nd that 1 am a covetous rogue, and will never
Col. F. Mr. Proteus rather-               part with her without a valuable consideration.
Free. Ay, ay, let me alone for a lie at a pinch.
From changing shape, and imitating Jove,     Trade.'Egad, if you can bring this to bear,
Idraw the happy omens qf my love.         Mr. Freeman, I'll make you whole again: I'll pay
i'm not the first young brother of the blade,   the three hundred pounds you lost with all my
Who made his fortune in a masquerade.     soul.
[Exit.   Free. Well, I'll use my best endeavours.Enter TRADELOVE.                Where will you be?
Trade. At home: pray heaven you prosper!Free. Zounds! Mr. Tradelove, we're bit, it If I were but the sole trustee now, I should not
seems.                                      fear it.                               [Exit.
Trade. Bit, do you call it, Mr. Freeman! I'm    Free. Ha, ha, ha!-he has it.   [Exit.
ruined.-Pox on your news.
Free. Pox on the rascal that sent it me.-       SCENE III.-PERIWINKLE'S House.
Trade'. Sent it you! Why Gabriel Skinflint
Trde Sent it you  Why ariel Skinfli Enter PERIWINKLE on oneside, a FOOTMAN on
has been at the minister's, and spoke with him;
and he has assured him'tis every syllable false;
he received no such express.                   Foot. A gentleman from Ccventry inquires for
Free. I know it: I this minute parted with my you, Sir.
friend, who protested he never sent me any such    Per. From  my uncle, I warrant you: bring
letter.-Some roguish stock-jobber has done it on him up. —This will save me the trouble, as well
purpose to make me lose my money, that's cer- as the expense, of a journey.




SCENE IV.]          A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIFE.                                      141
Enter COLONEL, as MR. PILLAGE.        to renew his lease-at the same rent.- Verv
well, Mr. Pillage, I see my uncle does mention it,
Col. F. Is your name Periwinkle, Sir?     and I'll perform his will.-Give me the lease.Per. It is, Sir.                          [COLONEL gives it him, he looks upon it, and
Col. F. I am sorry for the message I bring.-  lays it upon the table.] Pray you step to the door,
My old master, whom 1 served these forty years, and call for pen and ink, Mr. Pillage.
claims the sorrow due from a faithful servant to   Col. F. I have a pen and ink in my pocket,
an indulgent master.                [Weeps. Sir, [Pulls out an ink-horn.] I never go without
Per. By this I understand, Sir, my uncle, Sir that.
TobV Periwinkle, is dead.                      Per. -I think it belongs to your profession.Col. F. He is, Sir, and has left you heir to [He looks upon the pen while the COLONEL
seven hundred a year, in as good abbey-land as changes the lease and lays down the contract.]
ever paid Peterpence to Rome. I wish you long I doubt this is but a sorry pen, though it may
to enjoy it, but my tears will flow when I think  serve to write my name.        [Writes.
of my benefactor. —[ Weeps.] Ah! he was a good    Col. F. Little does he think what he signs.
man —he has not left many of his fellows, the                                     fAside.
poor lament him sorely.                        Per. There is your lease, Mr. Pillage. [Gives
Per. I pray, Sir, what office bcre you?   him the paper.] Now I must desire you to make
Col. F. I was his steward, Sir.           what haste you can down to Coventry, and take
Per. I have heard him mention you with much care of every thing, and I'll send down the underrespect: your name is-                       taker for the body; do you attend it up, and whatCol. F. Pillage, Sir.                     ever charges you are at I'll repay you.
Per. Ay, Pillage, I do remember he called you    Col. F. You have paid me already, I thank
Pillage. Pray, Mr. Pillage, when did my uncle you, Sir.                           [Aside.
die?                                          Per. Will you dine with me?
Col. F. Monday last, at four in the morning.   Col. F. I would rather not: there are some of
About two he signed his will, and gave it into my my neighbours whom I met as I came along, who
hands, and strictly charged me to leave Coventry leave the town this afternoon, they told me, and
the moment he expired; and deliver it to you with I should be glad of their company down.
what speed I could; I have obeyed him, Sir, and   Per. Well, well, I won't detain you. I will
there is the will.  [Gives it to PERIWINKLE. give orders about mourning. [Exit COLONEL.]
Per.'Tis very well; I'll lodge it in the Comn- Seven hundred a year! I wish he had died sevenmons.                                       teen years ago: —what a valuable collection of
Col. F. There are two things which he forgot rarities might I have had by this time!-I might
to insert, but charged me to tell you, that he de- have travelled over all the known parts of the
sired you'd perform them as readily as if you had globe, and made my own closet rival the Vatican
found them written in the will, which is to re- at Rome-Odso, I have a good mind to begin my
move his corpse, and bury him  by his father, at travels now —let me see —I am but sixty: my faSt. Paul's, Covent Garden, and to give all his ther, grandfather, and great grandfather. reached
servants mourning.                           ninety odd; I have almost forty years good: let
Per. That will be a considerable charge; a pox  me consider! what will seven hundred a year
of all modern fashions. [Aside.] Well! it shall be amount to in-ay; in thirty years, I say hut thirty
done, Mr. Pillage; I will agree with one of death's -thirty times seven is seven times thirty-that is
fashion-mongers, called an undertaker, to go down, -just twenty-one thousand pounds-'tis a great
and bring up the body.                       deal of money-I may very well reserve sixteen
Col. F. I hope, Sir, I shall have the honour to hundred of it for a collection of such rarities as
serve you in the same station I did your worthy will make my name famous to posterity-I would
uncle: I have not many years to stay behind him, not die like other mortals, forgotten in a year or
and would gladly spend them in the family, where two, as my uncle will'be-No,
I was brought up.-[Weeps.] —He was a kind
I wand  t    ender master to me. — He was a kind  With nature's curious works I'll raise my fame,
and tender master to me.
Per. Pray don't grieve, Mr. Pillage, you shall That men till doomsday may repeat my name.
hold your place, and every thing else which you                                    [Exit.
held under my uncle-You make me weep to see           SCENE IV.-A  Tavern.
you so concerned. [Weeps.] He lived to a good
old age, and we are all mortal.                 FREEMAN and TRADELOVE over a bottle.
Col. FP. We are so, Sir, and therefore I must
beg you to sign this lease: you'll find, Sir Toby    Trade. Come, Mr. Freeman, here's mynheer
has taken particular notice of it in his will-I Jan, Van, Tim, Tam, Tam,-I shall never think
could not get it time enough from the lawyer, or of that Dutchman's name.
he had signed it before he died.               Free. Mynheer Jan Van Timtamtirelereletta
[Gives him a Paper. Heer Van Feignwell.
Per. A lease! for what?                      Trade. Ay, Heer Van Feignwell: I never
Col. F. I rented a hundred a year. farm from  heard such a confounded name in my life-here s
Sir Toby upon lease, which lease expires at Lady- his health, I say.
day next. I desire to renew for twenty years-   Free. With all my heart.
that's all, Sir.                               Trade. Faith, 1 never expected to have found
Per. Let me see. [Looks over the lease.] Very so generous a thing in a Dutchman.
well-Let me see what he says in his will about   Free. As soon as I told him your circumstanat. [Lays the lease upon the table, and looks on ces, he replied, he would not be the ruin of any
Me will.] Ho, here it is- The farmn lying-now  man for the world-and immediately made this
in possession of SAMUEL PILLAGE-sujffer him  proposal himself. Let him  take what time he




142                A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIFE.                                   [ACT V.
will for the payment, said he; or, if he'll give me'  ree. And he shall use his interest, I promise
his word, I'll forgive him the debt.         you, mynheer.
Trade. Well, Mr. Freeman, I can -but thank    Trade. I will say all that ever I can think on
you.'Egad, you have made a man of me again! to recommend you, mynheer; and if you please,
and if ever I lay a wager more, may:I rot in jail. -I'11 introduce you to the lady.
Free. I assure you, Mr. Tradelove, 1 was very   Col. F. Well, dat is waer-Maer ye must first
much concerned, because I- was the occasion,- spreken of myn to de frow, and to oudere gentlethough very innocently, I protest..-  -. men.
Trade. I dare swear you was, Mr. Freeman.    Free. Ay, that's the best way-and then I and
the Heer Feignwel! will meet you. there.
Enter COLONEL FEIGNWELL, dressed as a Dutch    Trade. I  will go this moment, upon honour.
merchant.                  Your most obedient humble servant. My speakCol. F. Ha, mynheer' Tradelove, Ik been soory ing will do you little good, mynheer: ha, ha! we
voor your troubles-maer Ik sal you easie maken, have bit you, faith: ha, ha!
1k will de gelt die'hebben —'               Well-my debt's discharg'd, and as for Nan,
Trade. I shall for ever acknowledge the obliga- He has my consent-to get her, if-he can. [Exit.
tion, Sir.
Free. But you understand upon what condi-   Col. F. Ha, ha, ha! this was a masterpiece of
tion, Mr. Tradelove; 0'Miss Lovely.          contrivance, Freeman.
Col. F. Ya,'de frow sal al te regt setten, myn-' Free He hugs himself with his supposed good
eer.         de ffortune, and little thinks the luck's on our side!
1ee'r.                                       MA come, pursue the fickle - goddess, while she's
Trade. With all my heart, mynheer; you shall' But come, pursue the fickle goddess, while she's
have my consent to marry' her freely.'      in the mood-Nw for the quaker.
Free. Well then, as I am a party concerned    Col. F  That s the hardest task.
between you, mynheer Jan Van Timtarntirelere-   Of all the counterfeits perform'd by man,
letta Heer Van Feignwell shall give you a dis-   A soldier makes the simplest puritan.
charge of your wager under his own hand-and                                     [Exeunt.
you shall give him your consent to marry Miss
Lovely under yours-that is'the way to avoid all               ACT V.
manner of disputes hereafter.
Col. F. Ya, weeragtig.          SCENE I.-An Apartment in PRIM'S House.
Col. F. Ya, weeragtig.
Trade. Ay, ay, so it is, Mr. Freeman: I'll give   MRS. PRIM and MIss LovErY, in Quaker's
it under mine this minute.  [Sits down to write.           dresses, meeting.
Col. F. And so Ik sal.     [Does the same.
Free. So ho, the house!                      M rs. P. So, now I like thee, Anne: art thou
not better without thy monstrous hoop-coat and
Enter DRAWER.                 patches I If heaven should make thee so many
Bid your master come up-I'll see there be wit- black spots upon thy face, would it not fright thee,
nesses enough to the bargain.:       [Aside. Anne?
Enter SACKBUT.                  Mliss L. If it should turn you inside outward,
and show all the spots of your hypocrisy,'twould
Sack. Do you call, gentlemen?            fright me worse!
Free. Ay, Mr. Sackbut, we shall want your    I Mrs. P. My hypocrisy! I scorn thy words,
hand here.;                     Anne: I lay no baits.
Trade. There, mynheer, there's my consent   Miss L. If you did, you'd catch no' fish.
as amply as you can desire; but you must insert  2AIrs. P. Well, well, make thy jests-but I'd
your own name, for I know not how to spell, it: I have thee to know, Anne, that I could have catchhave left a blank for it. ".                 ed as many fish (as thou call'st them) in my time,
[Gives the COLONEL a paper.  as ever thou didst with all thy fooltraps about
Col. F. Ya, Ik sal dat well doen-         thee.
Free. Now, Mr. Sackbut, you'and 1 will wit-   Miss L. Is that the reason of your formality,
ness it.                       [They write. Mrs. Priml Truth will out: I ever thought, inCol F. Daer, mynheer Tradelove, is your dis- deed, there was more design thangodliness in the
charge.                 i[ Cives him a paper. pinched cap.
Trade. Be pleased to witness this receipt too,   Mrs. P. Go, thou art corrupted with reading
gentlemen.                                  lewd plays, and filthy romances-Ah! I wish thou
[FREEMAN and SACKBUT put their hands. art not already too familiar with the wicked ones.
Free. Ay, ay, that we will.'          liss L. Too familiar with the wicked ones 
Col. F. Well, mynheer, ye most meer doen, ye: Pray, no more of those freedoms, Madam-I am
most myn voorsprach to de frow syn.         familiar with none so' wicked as yourself-How
Free. He means you must recommend- him to'; dare you thus talk to me! you, you, you, unworthy
the lady-                                    woman, you.                [Bursts into tears.
Trade. That [I will, and to the rest of my bro-        Enter TRADELOVE.
ther guardians.
Col. F. Wat voor, de duyvel heb you meer   Trade. What, in tears, Nancy?  What have
guardians?                                  you done to her, Mrs. Prim, to make her weep? 
Trade. Only three, mynheer.        -          iss L. Done to me! I admire I keep my
Col. F. What donder heb ye myn betrocken, senses among you; but I. will rid myself of your
mynheer?-Had Ik dat gewoeten, Ik soude eaven tyranny, if there be either law or justice to be had.
met you geweest syn.                         I'll force you to give me up my liberty.
Sack. But Mr. Tradelove is the-principal, and   lMrs. P. Thou hast more need to weep for thy
he can do a great deal with the rest, Sir.  I sins, Anne-Yea, for thy manifold sins.




SCENE I.]          A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIFE.                                       143
Alis L. Don't think that I'll be still the fool of more service to a nation than fifty coxcombs.
which you have made me. No, I'll wear what I'Tis the merchant makes the belle. How would
please-go when and where 1 please-and keep the ladies sparkle in the box, without the merwhat company I think fit, and not what you shall chant? the Indian diamond! the French brocade!
direct —I will.                             the Italian fan! the Flanders lace! the fine Dutch
Trade. For my part, I do think all this very holland! how would they vent their scandal over
reasonable, Miss Lovely;'tis fit you should have the teatables  and where would your beaux have
your liberty, and for that very purpose I am come. Champagne to toast their mistresses, were it not
for the merchant?
Enter PERIWINKLE and OAD)IAIt PRIM, with a
nter PERIWINKLE and   AA  PRIM, with a    Obad. Verily, neighbour Tradelove. thou dost
waste thy breath about nothing-All that thou
Per. I have bought some black stockings' of hast said tendeth only to debauch youth, and fili
your husband, Mrs. Prim, but he tells me the their heads with the pride and luxury of this
glover's trade belongs to you; therefore, I pray world.-The merchant is a very great friend to
you look me out five or six dozen of mourning Satan, and sendeth as many to his dominions as
gloves; such as are given at funerals, and send the Pope.
them to imy house.                             Per. Right; I say, knowledge makes the man.
Obad. My friend, Periwinkle, has got a good    Obad. Yea, but not thy kind of knowledge-it
windfall to-day-seven hundred a year.       is the knowledge of truth-Search thou for the
Mrs. P. I wish thee joy of it, neighbour.  light within, and not for baubles, friend.
Trade. What, is Sir Toby dead then?  -'liss L. Ah, study your country's good, Mr.
Per. He is! You'll take care, Mrs. Prim.-  Periwinkle, and not her insects.-Rid you- of
Alrs. P. Yea, I will, neighbour.           your homebred monsters, before you fetch any
Obad. This letter recomrnmendeth a speaker; from abroad.-I dare swear you have* maggots'tis from Aminadab Holdfast of Bristol: perad- enough in your own brain to stock all the virventure he will be here this night; therefore, tuosos in Europe with butterflies.
Sarah, do thou take care for his reception.    Sir P. By my soul, Miss Nancy's a wit.
[ Gives her the letter.   Obad. That is more than she can say of thee,
Mrs. P. I will obey thee.          rExit. friend.-Lookye,'tis in vain to talk; when I meet
Obad. What art thou in the dumps for, Anne  a man worthy of her, she shall have my leave to
Trade. We must marry her, Mr. Prim.       marry him.
Obad. Why truly, if we could find a husband   Miss L. Provided he be of the faithful-Was
worth having, I should be as glad to see her mar- there ever such a swarm of caterpillars to blast the
ried as thou wouldst neighbour.              hopes of a woman! [Aside.] Know this, that you
Per. Well said, there are but few worth hav- contend in vain: I'll have no husband of your
ing.                                         choosing, nor shall you lord it over me long.Trade. I can recommend you a man now, that I'll try the power of an English senate-Orphans
I think you can none of you have an objection to! have been redressed and wills set aside —and none
SEnter IR PHILIP MODELOVE.     did ever deserve their pity more.-O Feignwell!
where are thy promises to free me from  these
Per. You recommend? Nay, whenever she vermin? Alas! the task was more difficult than
marries, I'll recommend the husband-         he imagined!
Sir P. What, must it be a whale, or a rhinoceros, Mr. Periwinkle? ha, ha, ha!           A harder task than  hat the poet el
Per. He shall be none of the fops at your end    Of yore, the fair Andromeda befell;
of the -town, with full perukes and empty skulls,    he but one monsteferd, I'efour toear,
-nor yet any of our trading gentry, who puzzle   And see no Perseus, no deliv'rer near. [Exit.
the heralds to find arms for their coaches. No,            Enter SERVANT.
he shall be a man famous for travels, solidity, and
curiosity-one who has searched into the profundity of nature! When heaven shall direct such   Sr P.     o      are you all, in my opinion.  Sit.
a one, he shall have my consent, because it may Pur   e inquireth for thee. IAH.] One Simon
turn to the benefit of mankind.              Pure inuireth for thee.               [
Miss L. The benefit of mankind!- What, would    Obad. Friend Tradelove, business requireth
you anatomize men?                           my presence.
Sir P. Ay, ay, Madam, he would dissect you.   Trade. Oh, I shan't trouble you-Pox take
Trade. Or, pore over you throu through a micros- him for an unmannerly dog-However, I have
cope, to see ow your blood circulates from the kept my word with my Dutchman, and I'll introcope, to see how your blood circulates from the duce him too for all you.
crown of your head to the sole of your foot-ha, duce him too for all you.
ha! but I have a husband for you, a man that     Enter COLONEL, in a Quaker's habit.
knows how to improve your fortune; one that   Obad. Friend Pure, thou art welcome: how is
trades to the four corners of the globe.    it with friend Holdfast, and all friends in Bristol?
Miss L. And would send me for a venture per- Timothy Littleworth, John Slenderbrain, -and
haps.                                        Christopher Keepfaith?
Trade. One that will dress you in all the pride   Col. F. A  goodly company! [Aside.] They
of Europe, Asia, Africa, and America-a Dutch are all in health, [ thank thee for them.
merchant, my girl.                             Obad. Friend Holdfast writes me word, that
Sir P. A Dutchman! ha, ha! there's a hus- thou camest lately from Pennsylvania: how do ah
band for a fine lady.-Ya frow, will you meet myn friends there?
slapen-ha. ha! he'll learn you to talk the lan-   Col. F. What the devil shall I say? I know
guage of the hogs, Madam, ha, ha!           just as much of Pennsylvania as I do of Bristol.
Trade. He'S teach you that one merchant is                                      [Astde




144                A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIFE.                                   LACT V.
Obad. Do they thrive'                       Obad. What is the matter? why didst thou
Col. F. Yea, friend, the blessing of their good shriek out, Anne?
works fall upon them.                          Miss L. Shriek out! I'll shriek and shriek again
cry murder, thieves, or any thing, to drown the
noise of that eternal babbler, if you leave me with
Obad. Sarah, know our friend Pure.         him any longer.
Mlrs. P. Thou art welcome.  [He salutes her.   Obad. Was that all? Fie, fie, Anne.
Col. F. Here comes the sum of all my wishes-    Col. F. No matter, I'll bring down her stomach,
How charming she appears even in that disguise! I'll warrant thee-Leave us, I pray thee?
[Aside.   Obad. Fare thee well. Verily, I was afraid
Obad. Why dost thou consider the maiden so the flesh had got the better of the spirit.  [Exit.
attentively, friend?                          Col. F. My charming lovely woman!
Col. F. I will tell thee: about four days ago I                         [Embraces her.
saw a vision-This very maiden,. but in vain at-   Miss L. What meanest thou by this disguise,
tire, standing on a precipice, and heard a voice Feignwell.
which called me by my name-and bid me put   Col. F. To set thee free, if thou wilt perform
forth my hand and save her from the pit.-I did thy promise.
so, and methought the damsel grew unto my side.  AIliss L. Make me mistress of my fortune, and
M'rs. P. What can that portend?           make thy own conditions.
Obad. The damsel's conversion-I am  per-   Col. F. This night shall answer all my wishes.
suaded.                                      — See here I have the consent of three of thy
Miss L. That's false, I'm sure-   [Aside. guardians already, doubt not but Prim will make
Obad. Wilt thou use the means, friend Pure' the fourth.            [OBADIAH listening.
Col. F. Means! what means? is she not thy    Obad. 1 would gladly hear what arguments the
daughter, already one of the faithful?      good man useth to bend her.          [Aside
Mrs. P. No, alas! she's one of the ungodly.  Miss L. Thy words give me new life, me
Obad. Pray thee mind what this good man will.
say unto thee: he will teach thee the way thou    Obad. What do I hear?
shouldst walk, Anne.                           Miss L. Thou best of men, heaven meant ti)
Miss L. I know my way without his instruc- bless me sure, when I first saw thee.
tion: I hoped to have been quiet when once I had    Obad. He hath mollified her; 0 wonderful
put on your odious formality here.           conversiona! Prim  listening.
Col. F. Then thou wearest it out of compul-  Col. F.  [Softly.]  Ha! Prim  listening.-No
sion, not choice, friend?                   more, my love, we are observed: seem to be edifiM1iss L. Thou art in the right of it, friend-   ed, and give'em hopes that thou wilt turn quaker,
fMrs. P. Art thou not ashamed to mimic the and leave the rest to me. [Aloud.] I am glad to
good manll! Ah!  thou stubborn girl.        find that thou art touched with what I said unto
Col. Fo. Mind her not; she hurteth not me- thee, Anne; another time I will explain the other
If thou wilt leave her alone with me, I will dis- article unto thee: in the meanwhile, be thou dutiful to our friend Prim.
cuss some few points with her, that may per- ful to our friend Prim.
chance soften her stubbornness, and melt her into Miss L. I shall obey thee in every thing.
compliance.                                                      [OBADIAH comesforward.
Obad. Content: I pray thee put it home to her.   Obd. Oh, what a prodigious change is here I
— Come, Sarah, let us leave the good man with thou hast wrought a miracle, friend! Anne, how
her.                                         dost thou like the doctrine he hath preached I
Miss L. [Catching hold of PRIM; he breaks   Miss L. So well, that I could talk to him for
loose; exeunt OBAD. and MRs. P.] What, do ever, methinks-I amashamed of my former folly,
you mean to leave me with this old enthusiastical and ask your pardon.
canter 1 don't think, because I complied with your   Cot. F. Enough, enough, that thou art sorry:
formality, to impose your ridiculous doctrine upon he is no pope, Anne.
me.                                            Obad. True, I am no pope, Anne. Verily,
Col. F. I pray thee, young woman, moderate thou dost rejoice me exceedingly, friend: will it
thy passion.                                 please thee to walk into the next room, and reMiss L. I pray thee, walk after thy leader, you fresh thyself? —Come, take the maiden by the
will but lose your labour upon me.-These hand.
wretches will certainly make me mad!           Col. F. We will follow thee.
Col. F. I am of another opinion! the spirit             Enter SERVANT.
telleth me I shall convert thee, Anne.
Aliss L.'Tis a lying spirit, don't believe it.  Serv There is another Simon Pure inquireth
Col. F. Say'st thou so? Why then thou shalt for thee, master.
sonvert me, my angel.                     CaCol. F. The devil there is.           [Aside.
[Catching her in his arms.   Obad. Another Simon Pure! I do not know
Miss L. [Shrieks.] Ah! monster, hold off, or him, is he any relation of thine?
i'll tear thy eyes out.                        Col. F. No, friend, I know him not.-Pox take
Col. F. Hush! for heaven's sake-dost thou him: I wish he were in Pennsylvania again, with
not know me? I am Feignwell.               all my soul.                         [Aside.
J iss L. Feignwell!                         Aliss L. What shall I do            [Aside.
Re-enter OBAIIAH PRIM.               Obad. Bring him up.
Col. F. Humph! then one of us must go down,
Oh, I'm undone! Prim here-I wish with all my that's certain.-Now, impudence assist me.
soul [ had been dumb.                                                             [Aside.




weI I.j             -MA BOLD STROKE FOR A WIFE.                                        145
Enter SIMON PURE.                 Bath- Ay, this is he that picked my lady
Raffle's pocket in the grove-Don't you rememObad. What is thy will with me, friend?      ber that the mob pumped you, friend?- This
Simon. Didst, thou not receive a letter from  is the most notorious rogue
Aminadab Holdfast, of Bristolcoeri one is the most notorious rogue-c
minadab Holdfast, of. Bristol, concerning m oerSimon. What does provoke thee to seek my
Simon Pure!                life? Thou wilt not hang me, wilt thou, wrongObad. Yes, and Simon Pure is already here, fully
foiend. F. An  Smo  PrewiltahrefieddoObad. She will do thee no hurt, nor thou shalt
ifol. R. And Simon Pure will stay here, friend, do me none; therefore get thee about thy business,
if it' possible.              [Aside,. friend, and leave thy wicked course of life, or
Simon. That's an untruth for I am he.
Cot..  Take thou heed, friend  what thou  thou mayest not come off so favourably every
dost say-: I do affir m that ld am Simon Pure.  where.  Simon, I pray thee, put him forth.
dost say: I do affirm that I am Simon Pure.         Col. P. Go, friend, I would advise thee, and
Simon. Thy name may he Pure, friend, but    Col. F. Go, friend, I would advise thee, and
Simon. Thy name may be Pure, friend, but tempt thy fate no more.
not that Pure.
Col. F. Yea, that Pure which my good friend, c Simon. Yes, I will go; but it shall be to thy
Aminadab Holdfast, wrote to my friend  Prim  confusion; for I shall clear myself; I will return
Aminadab   Ho   wroteto my    Prm.with some proofs that shall convince thee, Obaout: the same   mon   ure tdat came from iah, that thou art highly imposed on.    [Exit.
Pennsylvania, and sojourned in Bristol eleven,
Col. F. Then there will be no staying for me,
days: thou wouldst not take my name from me, that's certain-what the devil shall I do?
wouldst thou?-till I have done with it. [Aside.                                      [Aside.
Simon. Thy name! I am astonished!              Obad. What monstrous works of iniquity are
Col. F. At what? at thy own assurance?      there in this world, Simon?
[Going up to him, SIMON PURE starts backa.   Col. F. Yea, the age is full ofvice-'Sdeath,
Simon. Avaunt, Satan, approach me not: I
Simon.  vaunt, Satan, approach me not:   I am so confounded I know not what to say.
defy thee, and all thy works.                                                          [side
Miss L. Oh, he'll out-cant him.-Undone, un-    Obad. Thou art disordered, friend-art thou
Obad. Thou art disordered, friend-art thou
done for ever.                         [Aside. not well
Col. Ft. Hark thee, friend, thy sham will not
Col. F. Hark thee, friend, thy sham  will not   Col. F. My spirit is greatly troubled, and sometake-Don't exert thy voice, thou art too well ac- thin  telleth me, that though I have wrought a
thin telleth me, that though I have wrought a
quainted with Satan to start at him, thou wicked         in converting this maiden
maiden, yet my labour will be in vain; for the
Enter a SERVANT, who gives PRIM a letter.   evil spirit fighteth against her: and 1 see, yea, I
see with the eye of my inward man, that Satan
Obad. One of these must be a counterfeit, but will re-buffet her again, whenever I withdraw
which I cannot say.                            myself from her, and she will, yea, this very damCol. Fit. What can that letter be?           sel will return again to that abomination from
Simon. Thou must be the devil, friend, that's whence I have retrieved her, as it were, yea, as if
certain; for no human power can speak so great it were out of the jaws of the fiend.
a falsehood..                          Iiss L. I must second him. [Aside.] What
Obad. This letter sayeth that thou art better meaneth this struggling within me? I feel tile
acquainted with that prince of darkness, than any spirit resisteth the vanities of this world, but the
here.-Read that, I pray thee, Simon.           flesh is rebellious, yea, the flesh-I greatly fear
[Gives it to the COLONEL. the flesh, and the weakness thereof-humCol. F. [Reads.] There es a design formed to rob (Obad. The maid is inspired. [Aside.] Prodigiyour house this night, and cut your throat; and for ous  The damsel is filled with the spirit-Sarah.
that purpose there is a man disguised like a quaker,
who is to pass fo  one Simon Pure: the gang, where-          Enter MRS. PRIM.
of I am one, though now resolved to rob no more, has   Mrs. P. I am greatly rejoiced to see such a
been at Bristol: one of them came in the coach with
the quaker, whose name he hath taken; and, from what change in our beloved Anne. I came to tell thee,
he hath gathered from him, formed that design, and that supper stayeth for thee.
did not doubt that he should impose so far upon you    Col. F. I am not disposed for thy food; my
as to make you turn out the real Simon Pure, and spirit longeth for more delicious meat!-fain
keev him ui'th you. Make the right use of this.  would I redeem this maiden from the tribe of sinAdieu.   ners, and break those cords asunder wherewith
Excellent well!                       [Aside. she is bound-humObad. Dost thou hear this?                    Aliss L. Something whispers in my ears, me[To SIMON PURE. thinks-that I must be subject to the will of this
Simon. Yea, but it moveth me not; that doubt- good man, and from him only must hope for conless is the impostor.                          solation-hum-It also telleth me that I am a
[Pointing at the COLONEL. chosen vessel to raise up seed to the faithful, and
Col. F. Ah! thou wicked one-now I consider that thou must consent that we two be one flesh
lay face, I remember thou didst come up in the according to the word-humleathern conveniency with me-thou hadst a black    Obad. What a revelation is here! This is cei:.
bob-wig on, and a brown camlet coat with brass tainly part of thy vision, friend; this is the masbuttons.-Canst thou deny it, ha?              den's growing unto thy side: ah! with what wilSimon. Yes, I can, and with a safe conscience, lingness should I give thee my consent, could I
too, friend.                                   give thee her fortune too-but thou writ never get
Obad. Verily, friend, thou art the most impu- the consent of the wicked ones.
dent villain I ever saw.                          Col. F. I wish I was sure of yours.   [Asidae.
Miss L. Nay, then, I'll have a fling at him.   Obad. Thy soul rejoiceth, yea, rejoiceth, I say,
[Aside.] I remember the face of this fellow at to find the spirit within thee; for lo, it moveth
VoL..,..T         13




146                A:BOLD ST R-O:KE:FOR A WI!FE.                            [LACT 
thee with natural agitation.-yea, with natural   Simon. I am grieved to see. thy wife so much
agitation towards this good man-yea, it stirreth, troubled: I.will follow and console her.  [Exit
as, one may say-yea, verily. I say., it stirreth up        Enter SERVANT
thy inclination-yea, as one would stir a pudding.
All. Hum!                   -' Serv: Thy brother guardians inquire'for thee,
Miss L.. I see, I see! the spirit guiding of thy here is another man with them.
hand, good Obadiah Prim, and now behold thou    Miss L. Who can that'other man be?
art signing thy consent and now. I see. myself                               [To COL. F.
within thy arms, my friend and brother, yea, I    Col. F.'Tis Freeman, a friend of mine, whom
am become bone of thy bone, and flesh of. thy  I ordered to bring the rest of the guardians here.
flesh. [Embracing him.] Hum- -
AIrs. P. The spirit hath greatly moved  them
both-friend Prim, thou must consent; there'sERIWINKLE, and FREEMAN.
no resisting of the spirit!                    Free. Is all' safe? Did my letter do you ser.
Obad. Fetch me the pen and ink, Sarah —and  vice?
my hand shall confess its obedience to the spirit.    Col. PF. All, all's safe! ample service.
[Exit MRS. PRIM.                                       [Aside.
Col. F. I wish it were over.      [Aside.   Sir P. Miss Nancy, how dost do, child?
Miss L.'Don't call me' Miss,, friend Philip;
Re-enter MRs. PRIM, with pen and ink.                         me" Miss, friend Philip;
my name is Anne, thou knowest.
Miss: L. I tremble lest this quaking rogue should    Sir P. What, is the girl metamorphosed?
return, and spoil all.'            [Aside.   Miss L. I wish thou wert so  metamorphosed.
Obad. Here, friend, do thou -write what the Ah! Philip, throw off that gaudy attire, and wear
spirit prompteth, and I will sign it:        the clothes becoming thy age.
[COL,. F. sits down.   Obad. I am ashamed to see these men.
Col. F. [Reads.] This is to certify to all whom it                              [Aside.
may concern,. that I do freely give all my right and    Sir P. My age! the woman is possessed.
title in Anne Lovely to Simon Pure, and my full   Col. F. No, thou art possessedrather, friend.
consent that' she shall' become his wife according to   Trade. Harkye, Miss Lovely, one word with
the form of marriage. Witness my hand.'      you.                [ Takes hold of her hand.
- Obad. That's enough-give me the pen.   - Col. F. This maiden is my wife, thanks to my
i  igns it. friend Prim, and thou hast no business with her.
Enter: BETTY, running to MISS LOVELY.       Trade. His wife!'harkye, Mr. Freeman.
Per. Why you have made a very'fine piece of
Betty. Oh! Madam, Madami here's the qua- work of it, Mr. Prim.
king man again:: he has brought a coachman, and    Sir P. Married to a quaker! thou art a fine
two or three more.                           fellow to be left guardian to an orphan trulyMiss L. Ruined past redemption!            there's a husband for a young lady!
[Aside to the COLONEL.  - Col. F. When I have put on my beau clothes.
Col. F. No, no; one minute sooner had spoil- Sir Philip, you'll like me bettered'all; but now-here's company coming, friend,   Sir P. Thou wilt make a very scurvy beaugive me the paper.                           friend-'[Going to PRIM hastily.   Col. F. I believeI can proveit under yourhand
Obad.; Here it is, Simon;- and: I wish'thee that you thought me a very fine gentleman in the
nappy with-the maiden.                       Park t'other day, about thirty-six minutes after
-M~iss L.'Tis done; and now,:: devil, do thy eleven; will.-you take a pinch, Sir Philip?-One
worst.                                       of the finest snuff-boxes you ever saw.
Enter SIMON PURE, COACHMAN, and others.                                Offers him snuff.Sir P. Ha, ha, ha! I am overjoyed,'faith I
Simon. Look thee, friend, I have brought these am, if thou be'st the gentleman-I own I did give
people to satisfy thee that I am not the impostor my consent- to the gentleman I brought here to'Which thou didst take me for: this is the man that day —but whether this is he-  can't be positive.
did' drive the leathern conveniency, and brought - Obad.: Canst thou not!-Now I:think thou art
me from Bristol —and this is-                a fine fellow to be- left guardian to an orphan.-: Col. F. Look ye, friend, to'save the court the Thou shallow-brained shuttlecock, he may be a
trouble of examining witnesses —I plead guilty, pickpocket for aught thou dost know.
ha, ha!'''      Per. You would have been two rare fellows to
Obad.' How's this?  Is not thy:name Pure have-been intrusted with the sole management of
then?.... i              her fortune:; would ye not, think ye  -But Mr.
- -Col. F:- No, really, Sir::I: only made-bold with  Tradelove and myself shall take care of her porthis gentleman's nanie-but here I give it up safe tion;aind, sound: -it' has done the business I had' occa-' Trade. Ay, ay, so we will;-Didn't you'tell
sion for, and now I intend to wear my own, which me the Dutch' merchant desired me to meet him
shall be at his service upon the same occasion at here, Mr. Freeman?
any time.-Ha, ha, hat'    -Free. "I did so, and I amr sure he will be here,
Simon. Oh!-the wickedness of the: age!  if you'll have a little patience..[Exit COACHMAN, 4'C.   Col. F. What,' is Mr. Tradelove impatient 
Obad. I am-struck dumb with:thy impudence, Nay, then, ib ben gereet voor your, he be, Jan
Anne; thou hast deceived -me-and perchance Van- Timtamtirelereletta'Heer Van Feignwe!l
undone thyself.                              vergeeten! 
Mrs. P. Thou art a dissembling baggage, and    Trade. Oh! pox of the name!. what have you
"thame will overtake thee.:          [Eit. tricked me-too, Mr. Freeman?




MscrNs 1.]           A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIFE.                                         147
Col. F. Tricked, Mr. Tradelove! did not I    Col. F. You read a lease, I grant you; but you
give you two thousand pounds for your consent signed this contract.        [Showing a paper.
fairly? And now do you tell a gentleman he has   Per. How durst you put this trick upon me,
tricked you I                                  Mr. Freeman I Didn't you tell me my uncle was
Per. So, so, you are a pretty guardian,'faith, dying?
to sell your charge: what, did you look upon her   Free.' And would tell you twice as much to
as part of your stock?                        serve my friend, ha, ha!
Obad. Ha, ha, ha! I am glad thy knavery is    Sir P. What, the learned and famous Mr.
found out, however-I confess the maiden. over- Periwinkle choused too!-Ha, ha, ha!-I shall
reached me, and I had no sinister end at all.   die with laughing, ha, ha, ha!
Per. Ay, ay, one thing or other over-reached    Trade. Well, since you have outwitted us all,
you all-but I'll take care he shall never finger a pray you, what and who are you, Sir.
penny of her money, I warrant you-over-reach-    Sir P. Sir, the gentleman is a fine gentleman.
ed, quotha! Why 1 might have been over-reach- -I am glad you have got a person, Madam,
ed too, if I had no more wit: I don't know but who understands dress and good breeding.-I
this very fellow may be him that was directed to was resolved she should have one of my choosme from Grand Cairo t'other day. Ha, ha, ha!  ing.
Col. F. The very same.                         Trade. A beau! nay, then she is finely help-.
Per. Are you so, Sir? but your trick would ed up.
not pass upon me.                                 Miss L. Why beaux are great encouragers of
Col. F. No, as you say, at that time it did not, trade, Sir, ha, ha, ha!
that was not my lucky hour-but, harkye, Sir, I    Col. F. Look ye, gentlemen-I am the person
must let you into one secret-you may keep honest who can give the best account of myself; and I
John Tradescant's coat on, for your uncle, Sir niust -beg Sir,Philip's pardon,: when. I tell him,
Toby-.Periwinkle, is not -dead-so the charge of. that I have as mu:h aversion to what he calls dress
mourning will be saved, ha, ha, ha!-Don't you and..breeding, as I have to the enemies of my reremember, Mr. Pillage, your uncle's steward?  ligion. 1 have had the honour. to.serve his maHa, ha, ha!  jesty, and headed a regiment of the bravest fellows.
Per. Not dead! I begin to fear I am tricked  that ever pushed bayonet in the throat of-a Frenchtoo.                                           man; and notwithstanding the fortune this lady
Col. F. Don't you remember the signing of a brings me, whenever my country wants my aid.
lease, Mr. Periwinkle?                        this sword and arm are at her service.
Per. Well, and what signifies that lease, if my 
uncle is not dead?-Ha! I am sure it was a lease   And now, y fair, if thou'lt but deign to smile,
Imeet a recompense for all my toil:
IB~~~ sigf~ned. —~.Love'and religion ne'er admit restraint,
ol., Ay, but it was  lease foAnd force makesimany sinners, not one saint;
of this beautiful tenement, I thank you.    S*.  Still free as air the active mind does rove,
[Takes hold of Miss L.   And-searches proper objects for its love;
Omnes. Ha, ha. ha! Neighbour's fare.  -- But that once fix'd,'tis past the power: of art
Free. So then, I find, -you. are all tricked, ha,  - To chase the dear idea from the heart:
ha!..                         -'-Tis liberty- of -choice that sweetens lifei - - 
Per. I am certain I read as plainsa lease as ever  - Makes the glad husband, and the happy w2fe
I read in my life.                                                                  [Exeumt.




MIDAS:
AN ENG.LISH BURLETTA,
IN TWO ACTS.
BY KANE O'HARA.
REMARKS.
THE mythology of the ancients has furnished subjects for ridicule in this English burletta; but the deities of the
heathens were almost too absurd for burlesque. The humour of this piece is considerable, though not always
apparent on the stage; aided, however, by the powers of the orchestra, and the great vocal talent usually emnloyed at our royal theatres, it never fails to please and attract. This piece was first performed as an opera, but
found its appropriate place as an afterpiece.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
As originally acted at COVENT GARDEN, 1764.  DRURY LANE, 1804.             COVENT GARDEN, 1814
JUPITER......... r. Legg.............   Mr. Sedgwick.........  Mr. Tinney.
JUNO,....                Mr. Stephens...........  Mrs. Harlowe......... Miss Log-an.
MAoMus.....    Mr. Dibdin........
APOLLO,.....           Mr. Mattocks...........    Mr. Kelly.........          Mr. Sinclair.
PAN,...........Mr. Dunstall.......... Mr. Caulfield.............  Mr. Emery.
MARS,.................      Mr. Rhodes...                Mr. Higman.
BACCHUS,..............Mr. Jones.......   Mr. Duruset.
MERCURY,........        Mr. Baker..         M... Ir. Gibbons.....        Mr. Heath.
CUPID,.....................................  Master IWest....               Master Wilson.
M1NERVA,...............                          Miss Saunders.......M.....rs. Davies.
VENUS,...............                           Miss Bristow.........   Mrs. Norman
BELLONA,........................ Miss Williams.
LUNA,..............  Miss Arne.
HEBE................................... Miss Watson.
MORTALS.
MIDAS............    r. Shuter.............  Mr. Suett.....        Mr............ M Liston.
DAMAETAS,......        Mr. Fawcett.......        Mr. Wathen...........       Mr. Taylor.
SILENO,........... Mr. Beard....    Mr. Dignum..............  Mr. Fawcett.
MYSIS....r....         Miss Poitier.Miss Tyrer..............  Mrs. Liston.
DAPHNE.......... Miss Miller..               Mrs. Mountain....          Mrs. Stirling.
N YSA,...        Miss Hallam...      Mrs. Bland...........  Miss Bolton.
ORACLE,.Mr. Waylen.........
Graces, Attendants, Chorusses, &c. &c.
SCENE.-First on Mount Olympus, afterwards on the Pastures of Lydia.
ACT  I.                       l            With his nods
SCENE I.                                     Men and gods
The curtain rising discovers the Heathen Deities,              When he win awe;
seated amidst the clouds, in full council: they              Heaven shrinks
address JUPITER in the following Chorus.                     When he speaks,
Jove, in his chair,                                        Hell squeaks;
Of the sky lord mavor,                                       Earth's globe is but his taw,
148




SCENE II.]                            MIDAS.                                       149
Cock of the school,                          his throne, and the Gods all ascend together
He bears despotic rule;                      singing the initial chorus;
His word,                               Jove in his chair, &c.
Th~ough absurd,                   SCENE IL.-A Champaign country, with a disMust be law.
Even~~~~~~ Fate,-~ tant Village.
ven Fate,                         Violent storm of thunder and lightning. A shepThough so great,                    herd sleeping in the field is roused by it, and
HiMust notbald pate;                runs away frightened, leaving his cloak, hat,
Jove would.cuf;                    and guitar, behind him.-APOLLO (as cast
Jove s swoul bluf,                  from Heaven) falls to the earth, with a rude
~For sa straw:                    shock, and lies for a while stunned; at length
he begins to move, rises, advances, and lookLike mice in cheese,                ing forward, speaks.
To stir must cease,                 Apol. Zooks! what a crush! a pretty, decent
Or gnaw.                              tumble!
J up. [Rising.] Immortals, you have heard your Kind usage, Mr. Jove-sweet Sir, your humble.
plaintive sov'reign,                  Well, down I am;-no bones broke, though sore
And culprit Sol's high crimes. Shall we who        pepper'd!
govern,                               Here doom'd to stay.-What'can I do?-turrn
Brook spies upon us? Shall Apollo trample         shepherd-       [Puts on the cloak, t.c.
On our commands' We'll make him an example. A lucky thought.-In this disguise, Apollo
As for you, Juno, curb your prying temper, or   No more, but Pol the swain, some flock I'll follow.
We'll make you, to your cost know-we're your Nor doubt I, with my voice, guitar, and person,
emperor.                              Among the nymphs to kick up some diversion.
Juno. I'll take the law. [ To JUPITER.]  My               Enter SILENO.
proctor, with a summons,
Shall cite you, Sir, t'appear at Doctors' Commons.   Sil. Whom have we here? a sightly clown! —
Jup. Let him-but first I'll chase from heaven    and sturdy:
yon varlet.                           Hum-plays, I see, upon the hurdy-gurdy.
Juno. What, for detecting you and your vile Seems out of place-a stranger-all in tatters;
harlot  I'll hire him-he'll divert my wife and daughters.Whence, and what art thou, boy?
AIR.                       Pl. An orphan lad, Sir.
Think not, lewd Jove,                   Pol is my name —a shepherd once my dad, Sir I
Thus to wrong my chaste love;           I'th' upper parts here-though not born to serving.
For, spite of your rakehelly godhead,   I'll now take on, for faith I'm almost starving.
By day and by night,                      Sil. You've drawn a prize i' th' lottery.-So
Juno will have her right,                      have I too;
Nor be, of dues nuptial, defrauded.  Why-I'm the master you could best apply to.
I'll ferret the haunts                                     DUET.
Of your female gallants;
In vain you in darkness enclose them;    Sil. Since you mean to hire for service,
Your favourite jades                            Come with me, you jolly dog;
I'll plunge to the shades,                  You can help to bring home harvest,
Or into cows metamorphose them.             Tend the sheep, and feed the hog.
Fa, la, la
Jup. Peace, termagant-I swear by Styx, our     With three crowns, your         la
With three crowns, your standing wages,
thunder                                        You shall daintily be fed;
Shall hurl him to the earth. —Nay, never wonder,  Bacon, beans, salt beef, cabbages,
I've sworn it, gods.
I've sworn it, gods.                                 Buttermilk, and oaten bread.
Apol. Hold, hold, have patience,                   Butterm         o   aten bread.
Papa. —No bowels for your own relations!
Come, strike hands, you'll live in clover,
AIR.                             When we get you once at home;
And when daily labour's over,
Be by your friends advised,                     We'll dance to your strum-strum.
Too rash, too hasty dad!                                             Fa, la, la.
Maugre your bolts and wise head,          Pol. I strike hands, I take your offer,
The world will think you mad.               Farther on I may fare worse;
What worse can Bacchus teach men,            Zooks, I can no longer suffer
His roaring bucks, when drunk,              Bung  guts and empty purse.
Than break the lamps, beat watchmen,                                     Fa, la, la
And stagger to some punk 2            Sil. Do strike hands;'tis kind I offer;
Jup. You saucy scoundrel-there, Sir.-Come,   Pol. I strike hands, and take your offer;
disorder,                                Sil. Farther seeking you'll fare worse;
Down, Phcebus, down to earth, we'll hear no   Pol. Farther oil I may fare worse.
further.                                Sil. Pity such a lad should suffer,
Roll, thunders, roll; blue lightnings flash about   Pol. Zooks, I can no longer suffer,
him.                                    Sil. Hungry guts and empty purse,
The blab shall find our sky can do without him.    Pol. Hungry guts and empty purse.
[ Thunder and lightning. JUPITER darts a                                   Fa, la, la
bolt at him; hefalls; —JUPITER re-assumes              [Exeunt, dancing and singing.
J3*




150                                    MIDAS.                                  [Acr I;
SCEIE- II.-SILENO'S Farm-House.                          If you cast me -
Off, you. blast me
Enter DAPHNE and, NYsA. _                            Never more to rise.'Daph. But, Nysa, how goes on Squire Midas'        Pray, goody, &c.:
courtship? 7      ~                  i 2.Mysis. Sirrah, this insolence deserves a drubNysa. Your sweet Damtetas, pimp to his great     bing..
worship,: worship,                       d.  Nysa. With what sweet temper he bears all her
Brought me. from him a purse; — but the cond. snubbing 
tionsI've cur'd hions-.  i    Sil. Oons, no more words.  Go,  boy, and
-I've curd him I believeof~such commissions.. -    get your dinner.... -.':'  [:E~r it  POL.
get your dinner:..:   [Exit POL.
Dap/h. The moon calf! This must blast himi  Fie, why so cross-grain'd to a.you'ng beginner?
with my father....
~ithmy.''!  Nysa. So modest I:
Nysa. Right. So we're rid of the two frights. So geteel 
Daph. So genteel!
together.!  Sil. [To MYSIS.] Not pert, nor lumpish.
Botk. Ha,  ha,ha!'ratla haa!              M...
Both.  a, ha, ha!-ha, haMysis. Would he were iang'd!
Enter MsI.    Nysa. Daph. La! mother, why so frumpish!
M-ysis.  Hey-day! what mare's nest-'s found?.          QUARTETTO. -
-For ever grinning:
*-.For eve grinning:  -' I'' Nysa. Mamma, how can you be' so ill-natlur'd
Ye rantipoles-is't thus you mind your spinning?        To the gentle, candsoue swainTo the gentle, handsome swain.?
AIR..  Daph. To a lad so limb'd, so featur'd,
Sure'tis cruel to give pain.
Girls are' known  Sure'is cruel, &c.
Sure'tis cruel, &c.
fTo. mise thiefyprone, idle.  0;  Mysis  Girls, for' you, my fears perplex me,
If ever they be idle.        -:             I'm alarm'd on your account:
VWi ho would rear. — Sit.  Wife, in vain you tease and vex me,
Two daughters fair                               I will rule, depend upon't.
Must hold a steady bridle.          Nysa. Ah! ah!
For here they skip,                     Daph. Mamma!
And there they trip,                    Nysa. Mamma, how can you be so ill-natur'd?
And this and that way sidle.        Daph. Ah, ah, to a lad so limb'd and featur'd?
Giddy maids,                            Nysa. To the gentle, handsome swain,
Poor silly jades,                       Daph. Sure'tis cruel to give pain;
All after men are gadding;          Nysa. Sure'tis cruel to give pain;
They flirt pell-mell,                   Daph. To the' gentle, handsome swain.
Their train to- swell,                  Mysis. Girls, for you, my fears perplex me,
To coxcomb, coxc omb adding:                 I'm alarm'd on your account.
To every fop    -'              Sil.   Wife, in vain you tease and vex me,
They're cock-a-hoop,: -            I will rule, depend upon't.
And set their mothers madding.      Nysa.   Mamma'
Enter SILENO, introducing POL.          Iysis.  Pshaw  Pshaw 
Daph.   Papa!
Sit. Now, dame and girls; no more let's hear   Sil.   Ah! ah!
you grumble.. Daph. Mamma, how can you be so ill-natur'd,
At too hard toil;-I chanc'd just now to stumble   Sil.   Pshaw, pshaw, you must not be so illOn this stout drudge-and hir'd him-fit for la-         natur'd;
bour..:           Nysa. Ah, ah,'to a lad so limb'd, so featur'd I
To'em, lad-then-he can play, and sing, and caper.   Daph. To the-gentle, handsome'swain.:
Mysis. Fine rubbish to bring home; a-strplling    Sit.   He's a gentle, handsome swain.
thrummer!.....            Nysa. Sure'tis cruel to give pain.
What art thou good for? speak, thou ragged mum-   Mysis.'Tis my pleasure to give pain.
mer!..[.T.o POL.   Daph. Sure'tis cruel to give pain.
Nysa. Mother, for shame  Sil.   He's a gentle, handsome swain.
Mysis. Peace, saucebox,. or -I'll maul you.  Nysa. To the gentle, handsome swain.
Pol. Goody, my strength and parts you under-  Allysis. To your odious,'fav'rite'sain.. value,.                                                                 [Exeunt.
For his or your work, I am brisk and handy,:                              
Daph. A sad cheat else -.......   CENE IV.. —MIDAs'  iouse.
Mysis. What you, you jack-a-dandy    Enter MirDAsand DAMJrTAS.;-   AIR.                 (Mid. Nysa, you say, refus'd the guineas British,
Dam. Ah! please your worship-she is wonPot. Pray, goody, please to moderate the ran-:   drous skittish.
cour of your tongue:                Mid. I'11 have her, cost what'twill. Odsbobs,
Why flash those sparks of fury from       I'll force heryour eyes                           Dam. A halterRemember, when the judgment's weak,   Mid. As for madam; I'll divorce her.the prejudice is strong:          Some favour'd lout incog. our bliss opposes.
A stranger why will you despise?.  Dam. Ay, Pol, the hind, puts out of joint our
Ply me,                          noses.
Try-me,..: Mid. I've heard of that Pol's tricks, of his sly
Prove ere you deny me,              tampering,




SCENE VI.]                             M-1 D A                                        51
To fling poor Pan, but soon I'll send him scamper-  There is old Sileno frisks like a mad
ing.                                                   Lad,'Sblood, Ill commit him-'drive him to the gallows!  Glad'Where is old Pan"?.                                       To see us sad:
Dam. Tippling, Sir, at th' alehouse.                       Cap'ring,
Mid. Run fetch him-we shall hit on some ex-                Vap'ring,
pedient:                                             While Pol, scraping,
To rout this Pol.                                            Coaxes
Dam. I fly; [Going: returns.] Sir, your obe-               The lasses
dient.                          [Exit.               As he did the dad.
Mid. What boots my being. squire,               Round about, &c.
Justice of peace, and quorum;
(hurchwarden-:knight: o'the shire,                          Enter MysIs.
And custos rotulorum;
if saucy little Nysa's heart,: rebellious,.......
If saucy little Nysa's heart, rebellious,  - - cMysis. 0 Pan-! the devil to pay, both my sluts
MVy squireship slights, and hankers after fellows?  frantic
Both in their tantrums, for yon cap'ring antic.
AIR.                      But I'll go seek'em all-and if I find'em,
I'll drive'em-as if old Nick were behind'em.
Shaltl a paltry clown, not fit to wipe my shoes,
Dare my amours to cross?                                                [ Going.
Shall a peasant minx, when Justice Midas woos,         Sa, soa,don't flounce;
Avast-disguise your fury.
Her nose up at~him toss?
No. I'll kidnap_-then possess her:            PMi we shall trounce;
I'll sell heir -Pol a slave, get mundungus in ex-udge and 
change:: -.                                                  AIR.
So glut to-the height of pleasure,
My love and: my revenge.              Mysis. Sure Ishall runwithvexation distracted,
No: I'll kidnap, &c.          [Exit. To see my purposes thus counteractedf!:
This way, or that way, or which way soevmr,
SCENE V.-A  Village Alehouse Door.         All things run contrary to my endeavour.
Daughters projecting
PAN is discovered sitting at a table, with a tan-    Their ruin and shame,
kard, pipes, and tobacco before him; his bag-    Fathers neglecting
pipes lying by him.                                The care of their fame;
Nursing in bosom a treacherous viper;
H. e rules twhe roast in the sky;   Here's a fine dance-but'tis he pays the piper.
He rules the roast -in the sky;
Yet he's a fool if he thinks                                               [Exeunt.
That he's as happy as 1;             SCENE VI.-A Wood and Lawn-near SILENO's
Juno rates him,                                       Farm.
And grates -him, -
And leads his highness a weary -life;   A tender slow symphony: DAPIINE crosses, mne
I have my lass,                      lancholy and silent; NYsA watching her.
And my glass,
And stroll a bachelor's merry life.   Nys. O ho; is it so-Miss Daphne in the
Let him fluster,                         dumps
And bLethmluster,.             Mum-snug's the word —-I'1 lead her sucha dance
Yet cringe to his-haridan's furbelow;     hall make her stir her stumps.
To my fair tulips,'       To all her secret haunts,
Like a shadow I'll follow and watch her;
I glue lipskin                                                             her.
And clink the cannikin, here, below.   And, faith, mamma shall hear on't if I catch her.
[Retiree.
Enter DAMETA[S.
Dam. There sits the: old soaker, his pate trou-           Reenter DAPHNE.
bling little                              Daph. La; how  my heart goes pit-a-pat; what
How the world wags, so he gets drink and vittle, —  thumping, 
Hoa, Master Pan-'Gad you've trod on a thistle! E'er since my father brought us home this bumpYou may pack up your all, Sir, and go whistle.       kin
The wenches have turn'd tail-to yon buck ranter:
Tickled by his guitar-they scorn your chanter.                     AIR.
AIR.                           Tie's as tight a lad to see to,
As e'er stept in leather shoe;
All round the maypole how they trot.            And what's better, he'll love me too,
Hot                                     And to him I'll prove true blue.
Pot,                                  Though my sister cast a hawk's eye.
And good ale have got;                    I defy what she can do;
Routing,                             He o'erlook'd the little doxy,
Shouting,                               I'm the girl he means to woo.
At you flouting,                        Hither I stole out to meet him,
Fleering,                               He'll no doubt my steps pursue;.
Jeering,                             If the youth prove true, I'll fit him;
And what not                              If he's false-I'll fit him too.




152                                   MIDAS                                   LA T r,
Enter POL.                    Daph.  Miss, your assurance,
Pol. Think o' the devil-'tis said,           Nysa.    And, Miss, your high airs
He's at your shoulder —                icDaph.  Is past all endurance,
This wench was running in my head,        Nysa.      Are at their last prayers.
And pop-behold her.                     Daph. No more of these freedoms, Miss Nysa,
I be.
AIR.                       Nysa. Miss Daphne's conceit must be lower'd
a peg.
Lovely nymph, assuage my anguish:          Daph.      Poor spite!
At your feet a tender swain,             Nysa.       Pride hurt!
Prays you will not let him languish,       Daph.    Liver white!
One kind look would ease his pain.       Nysa.       Rare sport!
Did you know the lad who courts you,       Daph. Do show your teeth, spitfire, do, but you
Hie not long needs sue in vain:                  can't bite;
Prince of song, of dance, of sports-you   Nysa. This haughtiness soon will be laid in
Scarce will meet his like again.                 the dirt.
Daph. Sir: you're such an olio                         Poor spite, &c.
Of perfection in folio,                            Pride hurt, &c.
No damsel can resist you:                                 [Exeunt; squabbling.
Your face so attractive,
Limbs so supple and active,                           ACT II.
That, by this light,
At the first sight,                           SCENE I.-A Grove.
I could have run and kiss'd you.           Enter NYSA, followed by MIDAs.
AIR.                       Mid. Turn, tygress, turn: nay fly not —I have thee at a why not.
If you can caper, as well as you modulate,          How  comes it, little Ny,
How comes it, little Nysy,
With the addition of that pretty face,            That heart to me so icy
Pan, who was held by our shepherds a god o'late,    Should be to Pol like tinder,
Will be kick'd out, and you set in his place.     Burn'd up to a very cinder'
His beard so frowsy, his gestures so awkward are,   Nysa.   Sir, to my virtue ever steady:
And his bagpipe has so drowsy a drone,            Firm as a rock
That if they find you, as I did, no backwarder,     I scorn your shock
You may count on all the girls as your own.       But why this attack 
Mysis. [From within.] Pol, Pol, make haste,       A miss can you lack
come hither.                                    Who have a wife already?
Pol. Death, what a time to call;             Mid. Ay, ay, there's the curse-but she is old
Oh! rot your old lungs of leather.                and sickly;
B'ye, Daph.                   And would my Nysa grant the favour quickly.
Daph.       B'ye, Poll.                    Would she yield now-I swear by the lord Harry,
[Exit POL; NYsA comds forward. The moment madam's coffin'd-her I'll marry.
Nysa. Marry come up, forsooth,
Is't me, you forward vixen,                               AIR.
You choose to play your tricks on;
And could your liquorish tooth           O      what pleasures will abound
Find none but my sweetheart to fix on      When my wife islaid in ground
Let earth cover her,
Daph. Marry come up again,                         Let earth cover her,
Indeed, my dirty cousin!                   We'll dance over her,
When my wife is laid in ground.
Have you a right to every swain?        Oh how happy is laid in ground.
Would little Nysa pig with me!
DUET.                             How I'd mumble her,
Daph. My minikin Miss, do you fancy that Pol       Touze and tumble her,
Can ever be caught by an infant's doll?  Would little Nysa pig with me! 
Nysa. Can you, Miss Maypole, suppose he will   Nysa. Young birds alone are caught with chaff,
fall                              At your base scheme I laugh.
In love with the giantess of Guildhall?    Mid. Yet take my vows.
Daph.        Pigmy elf,                     Nysa. I would not take your bond, Sir,Nyse.         Colossus itself,                       Half my estateNysa.         Colossus itself,               Vysa. No, nor the whole-my fond Sir. [Exit.
Both. You will lie till you're mouldy upon the  ys  No, nor the whole-my fond  ir. Et.
shelf.                              Mid. Well, master Pol I'll tickle,
Daph. You stump o'th' gutter, you hop o' my        For him, at least, I have a rod in pickle:
thumb  When he's in limbo,
Not thus our hoity-toity miss
A husband for you must from Lilliput             ill stick her arms a-kimbo.
Will stick her arms a-kimbo.
come.
Nysa. You stalking steeple, you gawky stag,                Eter PAN.
Your husband must come from Brobdignag.                               Pan. So,'squire, well met-I flew to know
Daph,    Sour grapes,                            your business.
Nysa.     Lead apes;                         Mid. Why, Pan, this Pol we must-bring him
Both. I'll humble your vanity, Mistress Trapes.  on his knees.




:scXN  Irv.]                          M IDA S.                                    153
Prn. That were a feat indeed;-a feat to   Mid. Well, come, let's take one bouze, and
brag on.                                    roar a catch,
Mid. Let's home-we'll there concert it as we Then part to our affairs.
wag on;                                 Pan. A match.
Ill make him skip-                            Mysis. A match.
Pan. As St. George did the dragon. [Exeunt.
TRIO.
SCEIVE II.-A Lawn before MIDAS' House.
31id. Master Pol
Enter NYSA.                           And his toll de roll loll,
Nysa. Good lack! what is come o'er me!                I'll buffet away from the plain, Sir
Pan. And I'll assist
Daphne has stepp'd before me!an. 
Envy and love devou r me                 Your worship's fist.
Polnvy and love    phi hr                              With all my might and main, Sir.
o  otes upon er phizMys. And I'll have a thump,'Tis that sticks in my gizzard.              TMys. And I'll have a thump,
Midas appears now twenty times more hideous:        Though he is so plump,
And makes sucha wounded racket.
Ah, Nysa, what resource?-a cloister.          Mid. mll bluff.
Death alive-.yet thither must I run,         Pan. Ill rouffg
And turn a nun,              MsPan. I'll rough,
Prodigious!                             Mys. I'll huff,
- Mid. I'll cuff,
AIR.                       All.   And I'll warrant we pepper his jacket.
In these greasy old tatters              Mid. For all his cheats,
a_.y~... ~~And wenching feats,
aHis charmns ~brighter shine:                 He shall rue on his knees'em.
Then his guitar he clatters                  Or skip, by goles
With tinkling divine:                     As high as Paul's,
But my sister,                           Like ugly witch on besom,
And! he k pass'd by;                Arraigned he shall be,
And me he pass'd by;                   Of treason to me!
Of treason to me!
I'm Jealous                       Pan. And I with my davy will back it,
Of the fellow's                        I'll swear
Bad taste and blind eye. [Exit.   Mid. I'll sar,
SCENE IIl.-MIDAs' Parlour.              Mys. I'll tear,
All. 0 rare!
MIDAS, MYsis, and PAN, discovered in consulta-     And I'll warrant we pepper his jackt.
tion over a large bowl of punch, pipes, and
tobacco.
tSCENE IV.-A  Landscape.
Mid. Come, Pan, your toastPan. Here goes our noble umpire.             Enter SILENO and DAM/TAS, zn warm arguw
Mysis. And Pol's defeat-I'll pledge it in a                   ment.
bumper.
Mi:d. Hang him, in every schenme that whelp ~Sil. My Daph, a wife for thee; the'squire's
has cross'd us.                             base pander!
Mysis. Sure he's the devil himself;      To the plantations sooner would I send her.
Pan.. Or  Doctor Faustus.                   Dam. Sir, your good wife approv'd my offers.
Sil. Name her not, hag of Endor,
Alysis. Ah!'squire-for Pan would you but   Stl. Name her not, hag of Endor,
stoutly stickle,                      What. knew she of thee but thy coffers?
This Pol would soon be in a wretched pickle.  Dam. And shall this ditch-born whelp, this
Pan. You reason right —                         jack-an-apes,
Mid. His toby I shall tickle.             By dint ofcongees and of scrapesBil. These are thy slanders and that c- nk-d
Mysis. Look'squire, I've sold my butter, here
the price is                                 hag'sAt your command, do but this job for Mysis.   Dam. A thing made up of pilfer'd rags;
Count'em-six guineas and an old Jacobus,      Sil. Richer than thou with all thy brags
Keep Pan, and shame that scape-grace coram Of flocks, and herds, and money bags.
nobis.
DUET.
Mid. Goody, as'tis your request,                            D
I pocket this here stuff;            Sil.  If a rival thy character draw,
And as for that there peasant,               In perfection he'll find out a flaw;
Trust me I'll work his buff.                 With black he will paint,
At the musical- struggle                   Make a de'il of a saint,
I'll bully and juggle;                   And change to an owl a matcaw.
My award's                       Dam. Can a father pretend to be wise,
Your sure card;                    Who his friend's good advice woahld despise i'Blood, he shall fly his country-that's enough.      Who, when danger is nigh,
Pan. Well said, my lad of wax.                     Throws his spectacles by,
Mid. Let's end the tankard,                    And blinks through a green girl's eyes 
I have no head for business till I've drank hard.    Sil. You're an impudent pimp and a grub.
Pan. Nor have my guts brains in them till   Dam. You are fool'd by a beggarly scrub;
they're addle,                                 Your betters you snub.
When I'm most rocky, I best sit my saddle.     Sil.  Who will lend me a club,
VOL. I.... U




I54                                   M I DAS.                                [Acr 
This insolent puppy to drub.          Dam. Midas must judge.
You're an impudent pimp and a grub,    Mysis. And Pol must fly.
Dam. You're cajol'd by a beggarly scrub,    - il.   Zounds, Pol shan't budge.
Sil.  Who will rot in a powdering tub,  Mysis. You lie.
Dam. Whom the prince of impostors I dub;     Dam.  You lie.
Sil.  A guinea for a club,                  MTysis. )
Dam. You're bald pate you'll rub,            Dam.  You lie, you lie.
Sit.  This muckworm to drub.                 Sil.
Dam. When you find that your cub,
Sit. RubofE, sirrab, rubsirrah, rub..     Enter MIDAS, enraged, attended by a crowd of
SU- - Ruboff, sirrah, rub, sirrah, rub.
Dam. Is debauch'd by a whipp'd syllabub.
[Exeunt.   Mid. Peace, ho! Is hell broke loose? what
means this jawing 2
Enter Mysis, attended by DAPHNE and NYSA.  Under my very nose this clapper-clawing 1
AIR.
Mysis. Soh!:you attend the trial-we shall       What the devil's here to do,
eYour vahgabond-                            Ye loggerheads and gipsies 2
YourSl.  smoke your foul contrivance. vagabond-  Sirrah you, and hussy you,
S/I. I smoke your foul contrivance.A
Daph. Ah, Nys, our fate depends upon this            And each of you tipsy iS:
issue-                                     But I'll as sure pull down your pride as
Nysa,. Daph-for your sake my claim I here            A gun, or as Itm justlce Midas!
forego;                             Chorus. O, tremendous justice Midas!
And with your Pol much joy I wish you.                 Who shall oppose wise justice Midas2
Daph. O, gemini, say'st thou me so?                           AIR.
Dear creature, let me kiss you.
Nysa. Let's kneel, and beg his stay, papa will   Mid. I'm given to understand that you are all
back us.                                   in a pother here;
Daph. Mamma will storm.                    Disputing whether Pan or Pol shall pipe to you
Nysa. What then 2 she can but whack us.             another year.
Do you think your clumsy ears so proper to deQUINTETTO.                            cide, as
Daph. Mother, sure you never               The delicate ears of justice Midas?
Will endeavour                        Chorus. 0, tremendous, &c.
To dissever                          Mid. So you allow it then-ye mobbish rabble?From my favour
So sweet a swain;                      Enter POL and PAN, severally.
None so clever                     Oh. here comes Pol and Pan —now stint your gab.
E'er trod the plain.                 ble.                              [ble
Nysa. Father, hopes you gave her,          Fetch my great chair-I'll quickly end this squabDon't deceive her,
Can you leave her
Sunk for ever                             Now I'm seated,
In pining care 2                     I'll be treated
Haste and save her                              Like the sophi on his throne;
From black despair.                  In my presence,
Daph. Think of his modest grace,                 Scoundrel peasants
His voice, shape, and face;                     Shall not call their souls their own.
Nysa. Hearts alarming,                           My behest is,
Daph. Bosoms warming,                            He who best is,
Nysa. Wrath disarming,                                 Shall be fix'd musician chief;
Daph.   With his soft lay:                       Ne'er the loser
Nysa. He's so charming,                          Shall show nose here.
Ay, let him stay,                             But be transported like a thief.
Both. He's so charming, &c.
Mlysis. Sluts, are you lost to shame..
Sil.   Wife, wife, be more tame.            Dam. Masters, will you abide by this condition
Mysts. This is madness!                     Pan.   I ask no better.
Pol.  I'm all submission.
Sober sadness!
MPan.   Strike up, sweet Sir.
Could see him swing,              - Pot.  Sir, I attend your leisure.
For his badness.                     Mid. Pan, take the lead,
Sil.'Tis no such thing.                Pan. Since'tis your worship's pleasure.
Dam. Must Pan resign to this fop his employ-                  AIR.
ment                     [ imentj A pox on your pother about this or that;
Must I to him yield of Daph the enjoy- Your shrieking or squeaking, a sharp or a flat;
Mysis. Ne'er while a tongue I brandish,   I'm sharp by my bumpers, you're flat, master Po;
Dawph shallblandish.               So here goes a set-to at toll de roll loll.
Daph shall blandish.
Dam. Will you reject my income,           When beauty her rack ofpoorloverswould hamper,
Herds and clinkum 2                And after Miss Will-o'the-Wisp the fools scamSit.   Rot and sink'em.                         per;




SCENE IV.J                            MIDAS.                                       155
Ding dong, in sing song, they the lady extol:  Mid.'Tis well. -What keeps you here, you
Pray what's all this fuss for, but-toll de roll loll.  ragamuffin?
Go trudge —or do you wait for a good cuffing?
Mankind are a medley —a chance-medley race;   Po.    ow all attendAll start in full cry, to give dame Fortune chase:   Throws of his disguise, and appears s
There's catch as catch can, hit or miss, luck is all   APOLLO.
And luck's the best tune of life's toll de- roll oll.: The wrath of Jove for rapine,
I've done, please your worship,'tis rather too long; Corruption, lust, pride, fraud, there's no escaping.
[Mird. Not at all.]                        Tremble, thou wretch; thou stretch'd the utmost
I only meant life is but an old song::.    tether;
The world's but a tragedy, comedy, droll;    Thou and thy tools shall go to pot together.
Where all act the scene of toll de roll loll.
Mid. Byjingo, well perform'd for one of his age;               AIR.
Now,hang dog,don't you blush to show your visage?    Dunce I did but sham,
Pol. Why, master Midas, for that matter,  For Apollo I am,'Tis enough to dash one,                 - -  - God of music, and king of Parnass;
To hear the arbitrator,                       Thy scurvy decree,
In such unseemly fashion,                   For Pan against me,
One of the candidates bespatter,. -         I —--   reward with the ears of an ass.
With so much partial passion. a      Mid. Detected, balk'd, and small,
falls  aslee On our marrow-bones we fall.
AIR.                       Mysis. Be merciful.:* Ah, happy hours, how fleeting,          Dam.  Be pitiful.:
7YZe danc'd on down.away;.   -..;.. Mid. Forgive us, mighty Sol —Als! alas!
When, my soft vows repeating,..
At Daphne's feet I lay.'                               FINALE.
But from her charms when sunder'd,
Apol. Thou, a Billingsgate quean,
As Midas' frowns presage,
Each hour will seem a hundred; -                 a pandar obscene,      To M.
Thou, a pandar obscene,    [    Mo[ To    METAS.
-:Each day appear an age.            With strumpets and bailiffs shall class;
M1id.  Silence-this just decree, all at your peril,  Thou driven from man,  [ To MIDAS,
Obedient hear-else I shall use you very ill.     Shalt wander with Pan;.  He a stinking old goat, thou an ass, an ass, &c.
Be thou squire —his estate    [To SILENO.
Pan shall remain,                    To thee I translate.
Pol quit the plain.                To you his strong chests, wicked mass;
Chorus. 0, tremendous, &c.                                      [ To DAPHNE and NYSA.
Mid. All bow with me to mighty Pan-en-         Live happy, while 1,
throne him-                             Recall'd to the sky,
No pouting-and with festal chorus crown him —  Make all the gods laugh at  idas.
[The croowdform tzwo ranks beside the chair, Daph. Sil. Nysa, To the bright god of day,
andc joi~n in tbhe,C/horus, wshilst MIDAS rownns    together with the l Let us dance,sing,and play;........him withbays... other Nymphsand  Clap hands every lad with
Sw ains. -: J   his lass..
Chorus. See triumphant sits the bard,        Daph.- Now, critics lie snug
We the bagpipe's glory raise-. I   -. CGhovtp. Now, critics, lie.snug,.&c.
We                     Nhebgip'sgoryrie:,:'~ [ C~ Nw, c'ritics,] lie. snug,,&~C.,




DOUGLAS.
A TRAGED DY,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY JOHN HOME.
REMARKS.
Tins beautiful tragedy, suggested by the old Scots ballad of Gil (or Childe) JMorrice, was first performed at Edin
burgh, in 1756, and in the following year at Covent Garden Theatre. Mr. Home, who was a Scots clergyman, inrurred rigorous censure from the elders of the kirk, for adorning the stage with this pathetic and interesting corn
position. Persecution usually defeats its own purpose: disgracefully expelled the kirk, he resigned his living and
preferments, seeking protection from the liberality of England, where the piece was received with well-deserved
applause, and its author rewarded with a pension from his late Majesty, then Prince of Wales.
During the representation in Edinburgh, a young North Briton stood up in the pit and exclaimed, with an air
of triumph, " Weel, lads what think ye o' Wully Shakspeare now?"
Among other great testimonies to the merit of this play, Mr. David Hume, the historian, gave it a preference to
the Merope of Maffei, and to that of Voltaire, which it resembles in its subject; and Mr. Gray observes, in a letter,
1757; " There is one scene (between Matilda and the Peasant) so masterly, that it strikes me blind to all the doe
fects in the world."
DRAMATIS PERSONlE.
As originally acted in EDINBURGH, 1756.  COVENT GARDEN, 1813.       DRURY LANE, 1814.
NORVAL,..........   Mr. Digges............    Mr. Conway...Mr. Rae.
LORD RANDOLPH.... Mr. Young............   Mr. Egerton.........         Mr. Holland.
GLENALVON,.........Mr. Love..............     Mr. Barrymore...........Mr. Raymond.
STRANGER,.......  Mr. Hayman..........  Mr. Young.........             Mr. Wroughton.
DONALD,................                       Mr. Claremont......... Mr. Cooke.
OFFICER,...................................Mr. Fisher.
SERVANT,........                             Mr. Atkins...Mr. Maddocks.
PRISONER,.......                             Mr. Duruset..............Mr. Buxton.
LADY RANDOLPH,.... Mrs. Ward........         Mrs. Powell.............Miss Smith.
ANNA,..........      Mrs. Hopkins........     Miss Cooke................. Miss Boyce.
ACT I.                        Who, from the chiding stream, or groaning oak,
Still hears and answers to Matilda s moan.
S4CENE I. —The Court of a Castle, surrounded  Oh, Douglas! Douglas! if departed ghosts
with woods.                    Are e'er permitted to review this world,
Enrter LADY RANDnOLPH.                Within the circle of that wood thou art,
And with the passion of immortals hear'st
Lady R. Ye woods and wilds, whose melan- My lamentation: hear'st thy wretched wife
choly gloom                                Weep for her husband slain, her infant lost.
Accords with my soul's sadness, and draws forth   My brother's timeless death I seem.to mourn,
The voice of sorrow from my bursting heart,       Who perish'd with thee on that fatal day.
Farewell awhile! I will not leave you long;      But Randolph comes, whom fate has made my lord
For in your shades I deem some spirit dwells,    To chide my anguish, and defraud the dead.
156




SCENE r.l                          DOUGLAS.                                       ]57
EInter LORD RANDOLPH.             Forgive me, lady: humble though I am,
Lord R. Again these weeds of wo! say dostThe mind I bear partakes not; of my fortune:
Lordthu     ee weeds of wo! say dost So fervently I love you, that to dry
To feed a passion which consumes thy life    These piteous tears, I'd throw my life away.
Thes living claim some duty; vainly thou       Lady R. What power directed thy unconscious
Bestow'st thy cares upon the silent dead.         tongue
To speak as thou hast done? to name-..
Lady R. Silent, alas! is he for whom I mourn:   o speak as thou hast done  to nameChildless, without memorial of his name,   I
Childless, without memorial of his name,    But since my words have made my mistress tremHe only now in my remembrance lives.
Lord R. Time, that wears out the trace of        ble,
deepest anguisih,          e t        I will speak so no more; but silent mix
Has pass'd o'er thee in vain.                My tears with hers.
Sure thou art not the daughter of Sir Malcolm:  1ad'y. No, thou shalt not be silent:
Strong was his rage, eternal his resentment-  I'll trust thy faithful love, and thou shalt be
Henceforth the instructed partner of my woes.
For when thy brother fell, he smil'd to hear
That Douglas' son in the same field was slain. 
Lady R. Oh! rake not up the ashes of my fa- Roll back the flood of never-ebbing time?
thers:                                Compel the earth and ocean to give up
Implacable resentment was their crime,
And grievous has the expiation been.           Anna. What means my noble mistress?
Lord R. Thy grief wresis to its purposes my   Lady R. Didst thou not ask, what had my sorwords.                                      rows been,
I never ask'd of thee that ardent love       If I in early youth had lost a husband?
In the cold bosom of the earth is lodg'd,
Which in the breasts of fancy's children burns.
XDecent affection and complacent kindness    tMangled with wounds, the husband of my youth;
Werent affectll I wish'd for  but I   kindness  And in some cavern of the ocean lies
Were all I wish'd for; but I wish'd in vain.  My child and his
Hence with the less regret my eyes behold    My  child and hisThe storm of war that gathers o'er this land:  Anna. Ohl   lady most rever'd! 
If I should perish by the Danish sword,      The tale wrapt up in your amazing words
Matilda would not shed one tear the more.    Deign to unfold.
Lady R. Thou dost not think so: woful as I am,   Lady R. Alas! an ancient feud
I love thy merit, and esteem thy virtues.    Hereditary evil, was the source
But whither goest thou now?                 Of my misfbrtunes. Ruling fate decreed
Lord R. Straight to the camp,              That my brave brother should in battle save
Where every warrior on the tiptoe stands     I'The life of Douglas' son, our house's foe;
Of expectation, and impatient asks           The youthful warriors vow'd eternal friendship.
Each who arrives, if he is come to tell,     To see the vaunted sister of his friend,
The Danes are landed.                        Impatient, Douglas to Balarmo came
Lady PR.. 0, may adverse winds            Under a borrow'd name. My heart he gain'd.
Far from the coast of Scotland drive their fleet    Nor did I log refuse the hand he begg'd:
And every soldier of both hosts return       My brother's presence authoriz'd our marriage.
In peace and safety tot his peaceful home!   Three weeks, three little weeks, with wings of
In peace and safety to his peaceful home!
Lord'. Thou speak'st a woman's, hear a          down,
warrior's wish;                       Had o'er us flown, when my lov'd lord was call'd
Right from their native land, the stormy north    To fight his father's battles; and with him,
1May the wind blow, till every keel is fixed  In spite of all my tears, did Malcolm go.
Immoveable in Caledonia's strand!           Scarce were they gone, when my stern sire was
Then shall our foes repent their bold invasion,   told,
AThat the false stranger was lord Douglas' son.
And roving armies shun the fatal shore.
Lady, farewell: I leave thee not alone;      Frantic with rage, the baron drew his sword,
Yonder comes one whose love makes duty light.  And questiond me.
Kneeling beneath his sword, falt'ring, 1 took
[Lzd. An oath equivocal, that I ne'er would
Enter ANNA.                  Wed one of Douglas' name. Sincerity!
Thou first of virtues, let no mortal leave
Anna. Forgive the rashness of your Anna's Thy onward path, (although the earth should gape,
love:                                  And from the gulf of hell destruction cry,)
Urg'd by affection, I have thus presum'd     To take dissimulation's winding way!
To interrupt your solitary thoughts;           Anna. Alas! how few of women's fearful kind
And warn you of the hours that you neglect,  Durst own a truth so hardy!
And lose in sadness.                           Lady R.''he first truth
Lady R. So to lose my hours               Is easiest to avow. This moral learn,
Is all the use 1 wish to make of time.       This precious moral, from my magic tale.Anna. To blame thee, lady, suits not with my In a few days the dreadful tidings came
state:                                 That Douglas and my brother both were slain.
But sure I am, since death first preyed on man,  My lord! my life! my husband! —mighty God 
Never did sister thus a brother mourn.       What had I done to merit such afflictlon?
What had your sorrows been if you had lost,    Anna. My dearest lady, many a tale of tears
In early youth, the husband of your heart?  I've listened to; but never did I hear
Lady R. Oh!                               A tale so sad as this.
Anna. Have I distressed you with officious love,   Lady R. In the first days
And ill-tim'd mention of your brother's fate!  Of my distracting grief, I found myself
14




lb'                                D 0UDOUGLAS.                                [AcTIt.
As women: wish" to be who-love- their lords,-    I'11 woo her as the. lion woos his brides.
But who durst tell my father? the good:priest.  The deed's a doing now, that makes me lord
Who join'd our hands, my brother's ancient tutor,i Of these rich valleys, and a chief of power.
With his lov'd Malcolm, in the battle fell:-  -The season is most apt; my sounding steps
They two alone were privy to -the marriage.'Will not be heard amidst the din of arms.
On silence and concealment I resolv'd,       Randolph has -liv'd, too long; his better fate
Till time should make my father's fortune mine.  Had the ascendant once, and kept me down.That very night on which my son was born,   -When I had seizedn the da'me, by chance he came,
My-nurse,.the only confidante I had,        Rescu'd, and had'the ladylfor his labour: 
Set out with him to reach her sister's house:  I scap'd unknown:;' a slender consolation!
But nurse nor infant: have -I ever seen,:Heaven is my witness, that I do not love
Or heard of, Anna, since that. fatal hour.   To sow in peril, and let others reap
Anna.: Not seen nor heard of! then perhaps he The jocund harvest.'Yet I am not safe;
lives.                              By love, or something like it, stung, inflam'd,
Lady R. No. It-was dark December; wind and Madly I blabb'd my passion to his wife
rain'                             And she has threaten'd to acquaint him of it.
Had beat all night. Across the Carron lay   The way of woman's will I do not know:
T'he destin'd road, and in its swelling flood   But well 1   know  the baron's wrath is deadly.
My'faithful servant perish'd with my child.  I will not live in fear; the man I dread
Oh! had I died when my lov'd husband fell!    Is as a Dane to me; ay, and the man
Had some good angel op'd to me the book      Who stands betwixt me and my chief desire —
Of Providence, and let me read my life,      No bar but he; she has no kinsman near;
My heart had; broke when I beheld the sum -.: No brother, in his sister's quarrel bold;
Ofills, which one by one I have endur'd.'And for the righteous         c      ause,:Anna.:: That God, whose ministers good angels I knew no chief that'will-defy Glenalvon. [Exit.
are,
Hath shut the book, in mercy to mankind.                      ACT II.
But we must leave this themhe: Glenalvon comes:
I saw him bend on you his thoughtful eyes,        - SCENE I.-A Court, q.c.
And hitherwards he slowly stalks his way.   Enter SERVANTS and a STRANGER at one door,
Lady R. I will avoid him. An ungracious per-   and LADY RANDOLPH and ANNA at anotiher.
son
Is doubly irksome in an hour like this.' Lady R.  What means this clamour:? Stranger,
Anna.:Why speaks my lady thus of Randolph's     speak secure;
heirlady thus ofRandolphs Hast thou been wrong'd&? have these rude men
Lady'R. Because:he's not the heir of Ran-       presum'd.
dolph's virtues.                       To vex the weary traveller on his way?'
Subtle and shrewd, he offers to mankind        1 Serv. By:us no stranger ever suffer'dlwrong:
An artificial image of himself:            -:This man with outcry wild has call'd us forth;
Yet is he brave and. politic in war,         So sore afraid he cannot speak his fears,
And stands aloft in: these unruly times. -
Why I describe him thus I'll tell hereafter.  nter LOSRdNDrLPH   and NoRtaL, oit t
Stay and detain him till I reach the castle. 
[Exit.': Lady R. Not vain the stranger's fears! how
Anna. Oh happiness! where art thou to be         fares my lord 2
found'             Lord R. That it fares well, thanks to this galI see thou dwellest not with birth and beauty,     lant youth,
Though grac'd with grandeur, and in wealth ar- Whose valour sav'd me from a wretched death.
ray'd;                                 As down the winding' dale I' walk'd alone,
Nor dost thou, it would seem, with virtue dwell;  At the cross way'four armed men attagk'd me;
Else had this gentle lady miss'd thee not.   Rovers, I judge, from the licentious camp,
Enter GLENALVON.                 Who would have quickly laid Lord Randolph low
Had not this brave and generous stranger come,
Glen. What dost thou muse on, meditating Like my good angel, in the hour of fate
maid?  And, mocking danger, made my foes his own.
Like some entranc'd and visionary seer,      They: turn'd upon him, but his active arm
On earth-thou stand'st, thy thoughts ascend to Struck to the'ground, from whence they rose no
heaven.'                            more,
": Anna.- Would that I: were, e'en as thou say'st, The fiercest two; the others fled amain,
a seer,                               And left' him master of the bloody field.
To have my doubts by heavenly vision clear'd.  Speak, Lady Randolph, upon beauty's tongue
Glen. What- dost thou doubt of?. What hast'Dwell accents pleasing:to the brave and bold;
-thou to do   -'Speak, noble dame, and thank him for thy lord.'With subjects intricate'?  Thy youth, thy beauty,'Lady-R. My lord, I cannot speak what now 1
Cannot be question'd; think of these good gifts;   feel;
And'then thy contnemplations will be pleasing.-  My hearto'erflows with gratitude to heaven,
Anna'. Let -women view yon monument of wo,'And to this noble youth, who, all unknown
Then boast of beauty:; who so fair as she?  To you and yours, deliberated not,
But I must follow; this- revolving day'    Nor paus'd at peril, but, humanely brave,
Awakes the memory of her ancient woes. [Exit. Fought on your side against such' fearful odds.:ltn. So!-Lady' RandolDh shuns me. by Have you'not learn'd of him whom we should
and by                                      thank?




SCEEI.                            D   U-GLA.                                   159
Whom call the saviour of Lord Randolph's -life' - He stands conspicuous; fame and great renown
Lord R. I ask'd that question, and he answer'd. Are brought within the compass of his sword.
not;                                  On this my mind reflected, whilst you spoke,
But 1 must know who my deliverer is.         And bless'd the wonder-working Lord of heaven;
[T7'oNORVAL.   Lord R. Pious and grateful ever are thy
Nor. A low-born man, of parentage obscure,       thoughts!
Who nought can boast, but his desire to' be -    My deeds shall follow where thou point'st the way.
A soldier, and to gain a name in arms.       Next to myself, and equal to Glenalvon,
Lord R. Whoe'er thou art, thy spirit is enno- In honour and command, shall Norval be.
bled                                    Nor. I know not how to thank you. Rude I arr
By the great King of kings; thou art ordain'd    In speech and manners: never till this hour
And stamp'd a hero, by the sovereign hand    Stood I in such a presence; yet, my lord,
Of nature! Blush not, flower of modesty      There's something in my breast, which makes me
As well as valour, to declare thy birth.           bold
Nor. My name is Norval: on the Grampian hills To say, that Norval ne'er will shame thy favour..My father feeds his flocks; a frugal swain,    Lady R. 1 will be sworn thou wilt not. Thou
Whose constant cares were to increase his store,   shalt be
And keep his only son, myself, at home.      My knight, and ever, as thou didst to-day,
For I had heard of battles, and I long'd     With happy valour guard the life of Randolph
To follow to the field some warlike lord:      Lord R. Well hast thou spoke. Let me forbiJ
And heaven soon granted what my sire denied.       reply;
This moon which rose last night, round as my We are thy debtors still. Thy high desert
shield,                                                               [To NORVAL.
Had not yet filled her horns, when, by her light,  O'ertops our gratitude. I must proceed,
A band of fierce barbarians from the hills,  As was at first intended, to the camp.
Rus I'd like a torrent down upon the vale,   Some of my train I, see are speeding hither,
Sweeping our flocks and herds. The shepherds Impatient doubtless of their lord's delay.
fled                                   Go with me, Norval, and thine eyes shall see
For safety and for succour. I alone,         The chosen warriors of thy native land,
With bended bow, and quiver full of arrows,    Who languish for the fight, and beat the air
Hover'd about the enemy, and mark'd          With brandish'd swords.
The road he took; then hasted to my friends,   Nor. Let us be gone, my lord.
Whom, with a troop of fifty chosen men,        Lord R. [To LADY R.] About the time tho
I met advancing. The pursuit 1 led,                the declining sun
Till we o'ertook the spoil-encumber'd foe.   Shall his broad orbit o'er yon hill suspend,
We fought and conquer'd. Ere a sword was Expect us to return. This night once more
drawn,                                 Within these walls I rest; my tent I pitch
An arrow'from my bow had pierc'd their chief,   To-morrow in the field. Prepare the feast.
Who wore that day the arms which now I wear. Free is his heart who for his country fights 
Returning home in triumph, I disdain'd       He in the eve of battle may resign
The shepherd's slothful life; and having heard    Himself to social pleasure: sweetest then,
That our good king had summon'dl his bold peers When danger to a soldier's soul endears
To lead their warriors to the Carron side,   The human joy that never may return.
I left my father's house, and took with me                    [Exeunt LORD R. and NOR.
A chosen servant to conduct my steps;          Lady R. His parting words have struck a fatal
Yon trembling coward, who forsook his master.          truth.
Journeying with this intent, 1 pass'd these towers, Oh, Douglas! Douglas! tender was the time
And, heaven directed, came this day to do    When we two parted ne'er to meet again!
The happy deed that gilds my humble name.,.. How many years of anguish and despair
Lord R. He is as wise as brave. Was ever tale Has heaven annex'd to those swift passing hours
With such a gallant modesty rehears'd?      Of love and fondness.
My brave deliverer! thou shalt enter now    Wretch that I am! Alas! why am I so?
A nobler list, and in a monarch's sight      At every happy parent I repine.
Contend with princes for the prize of fame.  How bless'd the mother of yon happy Norval!
I will present thee to our Scottish king,    She for a living husband bore her pains,
Whose valiant spirit ever valour lov'd.  And heard him bless her when a man was born:
Ah! my Matilda, wherefore starts that tear?  She nurs'd her smiling infant on her breast;
Lady R. I cannot say; for various affections,  Tended the child, and rear'd the pleasing boy;
And strangely mingled, in my bosom swell;    She, with affection's triumph, saw the youth
Yet each of them may well command a tear.   In grace and comeliness surpass his peers:
I joy that thou art safe; and I admire       Whilst I to a dead husband bore a son,
Him; and his fortunes who hath wrought- thy And to the roaring waters gave my child.
safety:                                 Anna. Alas! alas! why will you thus resume
Yea, asmy mind predicts, with thine his own.    Your grief afresh'  I thought that gallant youth
Obscure and friendless he the army sought,   Would for a while have won you from your wo.
Bent upon peril, in the range of death       On him intent you gazed, with a look
Resolv'd to hunt for fame, and with his sword    Much more delighted, than your pensive eye
To gain distinction which his birth denied.  Has deign'd on other objects to bestow.
In this attempt, unknown he might have perish'd,   Lady R. Delighted, say'st thou?  Oh! even
And gain'd, with all his valour, but oblivion.    there mine eye
Now, grac'd by thee, his virtues serve no more   Found fuel for my life-consuming sorrow;
Beneath despair.  The soldier now of hooe,  I thought, that had the son of Douglas liv'd,




160                                D O U G L A S.                              ACT III.
He might have been like this young gallant stran- As fire, when kindled by our shepherds, moves
ger;                                   Through the dry heath before the fanning wind.
And pair'd with him in features and in shape,  Lady R. Reserve these accents for some other
In all endowments, as in years, I deem,            ear;
My boy with blooming Norval might have num- To love's apology I listen not.
ber'd.                                Mark thou my words: for it is meet thou shoulds.
Whilst thus I mus'd, a spark from fancy fell  His brave deliverer, Randolph here retains.
On my sad heart, and kindled up a fondness   Perhaps his presence may not please thee well:
For this young stranger, wand'ring from his home, But, at thy peril, practise ought against him:
And like an orphan cast upon my care.        Let not thy jealousy attempt to shake
I will protect thee, said I to myself,       And loosen the good root he has in Randolph,
With all my power, and grace with all my favour. Whose favourites I know thou hast supplanted.
Anna. Sure, heaven will bless so gen'rous a re- Thou lookest at me, as if thou wouldst pry
solve.                                Into my heart.'Tis open as my speech.
You must, my noble dame, exert your power:    I give this early caution, and put on
You must awake: devices will be fram'd,      The curb, before thy temper breaks away.
And arrows pointed at the breast of Norval.  The friendless stranger my protection claims;
Lady R. Glenalvon's false and crafty head will His friend I am, and be not thou his foe. [Exit.
work                                     Glen. Child that I was to start at my own shaAgainst a rival in his kinsman's love,             dow,
If I deter him not; I only can.              And be the shallow fool of coward conscience!
Bold as he is, Glenalvon will beware         I am not what I have been; what I should be.
How he pulls down the fabric that I raise.   The darts of destiny have almost pierc'd
I'll be the artist of young Norval's fortune.  My marble heart. Had I one grain of faith
Enter GLENALVON.                In holy legends and religious tales,
I should conclude there was an arm above
Glen. Where is my dearest kinsman, noble That fought against me, and malignant turn'd,
Randolph.                             To catch myself, the subtle snare I set.
Lady R. Have you not heard, Glenalvon, of Why, rape and murder are not simple means!
the base-                              The imperfect rape to Randolph gave a spouse;
Glen. I have; and that the villains may not And the intended murder introduc'd
scape,                                A favourite to hide the sun from me;
With a strong band I have begirt the wood.   And, worst of all, a rival. Burning hell!
If they lurk there, alive they shall be taken,  This were thy centre, if I thought she lov'd him!
And torture force from them the important secret,'Tis certain she contemns me; nay, commands me,
Whether some foe of Randolph's hired their And waves the flag of her displeasure o'er me,
swords,                               In his behalf. And shall I thus be brav'd?
Or if-                                       Curb'd, as she calls it, by dame Chastity?
Lady R. That care becomes a kinsman's love. Infernal fiends, if any fiends there are
I have a counsel for Glenalvon's ear.        More fierce than hate, ambition, and revenge,
[Exit ANNA. Rise up, and fill my bosom with your fires.
Glen. To him your counsels always are com- Darkly a prqject peers upon my mind,
mands.                                Like the red moon when rising in the east,
Lady R. I have not found so; thou art known Cross'd and divided by strange colour'd clouds.
to me.                                 I'll seek the slave who came with Norval hither,
Glen. Known!                              And for his cowardice was spurn'd from him.
Lady R. And most certain is my cause of know- I've known a follower's rankled bosom breed
ledge.                                Venom most fatal to his heedless lord.   [Exit.
Glen. What do you know?  By the most
-  blessed cross,
You much amaze me. No created being,                   SCENE. —The same.
Yourself except, durst thus accost Gleralvon.
Lady R. Is guilt so bold? and dost thou make
a merit                                 Anna. Thy vassals, Grief, great nature's order
Of thy pretended meekness? this to me,            break,
Who, with a gentleness which duty blames,   And change the noontide to the midnight hour.
Htave hitherto conceal'd, what, if indulg'd,  Whilst Lady Randolph sleeps, I will walk forth,
Would make thee nothing! or, what's worse than  And taste the air that breathes on yonder bank.
that,                                 Sweet may her slumbers be! Ye ministers
An outcast beggar, and unpitied too!        Of gracious heaven, who love the human race,
For mortals shudder at a crime like thine.   Angels and seraphs, who delight in goodness,
Glen. Thy virtue awes me. First of woman- Forsake your skies, and to her couch descend!
kind!                                 There from her fancy chase those dismal forms
Permit me yet to say, that the fond man      That haunt her waking; her sad spirit charm
Whom  love transports beyond strict virtue's With images celestial, such as please
bounds,                               The bless'd above upon their golden beds.
If he is brought by love to misery,
In fortune ruin'd as in mind forlorn,
Unpitied cannot be. Pity's the alms           Serv. One of the vile assassins is secur'd.
Which on such beggars freely is bestow'd;    We found the villain lurking in the, wood:
For mortals know that love is still their lord,  With dreadful imprecations he denies
And o'er their vain resolves advances still:  All knowledge of the crime. But this is not




'MPi{E  I.,                        D O  vDOUG-LAS.                                161
His first essav: these iewels were conceal'd  Spome eighteen years ago I rented land
In the most secret places of his garment;   Of brave Sir Malcolm, then Balarmo's lord;
Belike the spoils of some that he has murder'd.   But, falling to decay, his servants seiz'd
Anna. Let me look on them. Ha! here is a All that I had, and then turn'd -me and mine
heart,                                (Four helpless infants and their weeping mother;
The chosen crest of Douglas' valiant name!  Out to the mercy of the winter winds.
These are no vulgar jewels. Guard the wretch. A little hovel by the river's side
[Exit. Receiv'd us; there hard labour, and the skill
Enter SERVANrTS, with a PRISONER.      In fishing, which was formerly my sport,
Supported life. Whilst thus we poorly liv'd,
Pris. 1 know no more than does the child un- One stormy night, as I remember well,
born                                  The wind and rain beat hard uponour roof;
Of what you charge me with.                 Red came the river down, and loud and oft
I Serv. You say so, Sir!                  The angry spirit of the water shriek'd.
But torture soon shall make you speak the truth. At the dead hour of night was heard the cry
Behold, the lady of Lord Randolph comes:     Of one in jeopardy. I rose, and ran
Prepare yourself to meet her just revenge.  To where the circling eddy of a pool,
Enter LADY RANDOLPH and ANNA.          Beneath the ford, us'd oft to bring within
My reach whatever floating thing the stream
Anna. Summon your utmost fortitude, before  Had caught. The voice was ceas'd; the personlost,
You speak with him. Your dignity, your fame,  But, looking sad and earnest on the waters,
Are now at stake. Think of the fatal secret,    By the moon's light I saw, whirled round and
Which in a moment from your lips may fly.         round,
Lady R. Thou shalt behold me, with a despe- A basket: soon I drew it to the bank,
rate heart,                           And, nestled curious, there an infant lay.
Hear how my infant perish'd. See, he kneels.   Lady R. Was he alive?
Pr-is. Heaven bless that countenance so sweet   Pris. He was.
and mild!                               Lady R. Inhuman that thou art!
A judge like thee makes innocence more bold.   How couldst thou kill what waves and tempests
Oh, save me, lady, from these cruel men,           spar'd?
Who have attack'd and seiz'd me; who accuse   Pris. I am not so inhuman.
Me of intended murder. As I hope            The needy man who has known better days,
For mercy at the judgment-seat of heaven,   One whom distress has spited at the world,
The tender lamb, that never nipt the grass,  Is he whom tempting fiends would pitch upon
Is not more innocent than I of murder.      To do such deeds as make the prosperous men
Lady R. Of this man's guilt what proof can Lift up their heads, and wonder who could do then.
ye produce?                          And such a man was I: a man declin'd,
1 Serv. We found him lurking in the hollow  Who saw no end of black adversity:
glen.                                 Yet, for the wealth of kingdoms, I would not
When view'd and call'd upon, amaz'd he fled  Have touch'd that infant with a hand of harm.
We overtook him, and enquir'd from whence     Lady R. Ha! dost thou say so? then perhaps
And what he was: he said he came from far,         he lives!
And was upon his journey to the camp.         Pris. Not many days ago he was alive.
Not satisfied with this, we search'd his clothes,  Lady R. Oh, God of heaven! did he then die
And found these jewels, whose rich value plead    so lately?
Most powerfully against him. Hard he seems,   Pris. I did not say he died; I hope he lives.
And old in villany. Permit us try      -    Not many days ago these eyes beheld
His stubbornness against the torture's force.  Him flourishing in youth, and health, and beauty.
Pris. Oh, gentle lady! by your lord's dear life,   Lady R. Where is he now?
Which these weak hands, I swear did ne'er assail,   Pris. Alas! I know not where.
And by your children's welfare, spare my age!  Lady R. Oh, fate! I fear thee still. Thou
Let not the iron tear my ancient joints,          riddler, speak
And my gray hairs bring to the grave with pain.   Direct and clear; else I will search thy soul.
Lady R. Account for these; thine own they   Pris. Fear not my faith, though 1 must speak
cannot be:                                  my shame:
For these, I say: be steadfast to the truth;  Within the cradle where the infant lay,
Detected falsehood is most certain death.   Was stow'd a mighty store of gold and jewels;
[ANNA removes the SERVANTS, and returns. Tempted by which, we did resolve to hide
Pris. Alas! I'm sore beset! let never man,    From all the world this wonderful event,
For sake of lucre, sin against his soul!   And like a peasant breed the noble child.
Eternal justice is in this most just!      That none might mark the change of our estate,
I, guiltless now, must former guilt reveal.  We left the country, travell'd to the north,
Lady R. Oh! Anna, hear!-once moreI charge  Bought flocks and herds, and gradually brought
thee speak                                  forth
The truth direct; for these to me foretell  Our secret wealth. But God's all seeing eye
And certify a part of thy narration,         Beheld our avarice, and smote us sore:
With which, if the remainder tallies not,    For, one by one, all our own children died,
An instant and a dreadful death abides thee.  And he, the stranger, sole remain'd the heir
Pris. Then, thus adjur'd, I'll speak to you as Of what indeed was his. Fain then would I
just                                   Who with a father's fondness lov'd the boy,
As if you were the minister of heaven,      Have trusted him, now in the dawn of youth,.
Sent down to search the secret sins of men.  With his own secret: but my anxious wife,
VOL. I.... X      14*




162                               D O U G L A S.                             [ACT im.
Foreboding evil, never would consent.  [LADY RANDOLPH goes towards the SERVANTS
Meanwhile the stripling grew inyears and beauty;   Lady R. This: man is not the assassin you
And, as we oft observ'd, he bore himself,          suspected,
Not as the offspring of our cottage blood;   Though chance combin'd some likelihood agairst
For nature- will break out. mild with the mild,    him,
But with the froward he was fierce as fire;  He is- the faithful bearer of the jewels
And night and day he talk'd of war and arms;   To their right owner, whom in haste he seeks.
I set myself against his warlike bent;*'Tis meet that you should put him on his way,
But all in vain; for when a desperate band  Since your mistaken zeal hath dragged him hither.
Of robbers from the savage mountains came-              [Exeunt PRISONER and SERVANTS.
Lady R. Eternal Providence! What is thy My faithful Anna! dost thou share my joy?.
name2-                                I know thou dost. Unparallel'd event!
Pris. My namn -is Liorval and my name he i Reaching from heaven to earth, Jehovah's arm
bears.                                Snatch'd from the waves, and brings me to my son i
Lad R.'Tis he!'tis he himself! It is my son! Judge of the widow, and the orphan's father,
Oh, sovereign mercy!'twas my child I saw!    Accept a widow's and a mother's thanks
Pris. If I, amidst astonishment and fear,  For such a gift! What does my Anna think
Have of your words and gestures rightly judg'd,  Of the young eaglet of a valiant nest'?
Thou- art the daughter of-my ancient master;    How soon he gaz'd on bright and burning arms,'The child I rescu'd from the flood is thine.  Spurn'd  the low dunghill where' his fate had
Lady R. With' thee, dissimulation now were      thrown him;
vain.                                 And' tower'd up to the regions of his sire!'
I am indeed the daughter of Sir Malcolm;      Anna. How fondly did your eyes devour the boy!
The child thou rescu dst from the flood is mine.   Mysterious nature, with the unseen cord
Pris. Bless'd be the hour that made me a poor Of powerful instinct, drew you to your own.
man;                                    Lady R. The ready story of his birth believ'd,
My poverty hath sav'd my master's house!    Suppress'd my fancy quite; nor did he owe
Lady R. Thy words surprise me: sure thou  To any likeness my so sudden favour:
dost not feign!                       But now I long to see his face again,
The tear stands in thine eye; such love from thee Examine every feature, and find out
Sir Malcolm's house deserv'd not; if aright  The lineaments of Douglas, or my own.
Thou told'st the story of thbr own distress.  But, most of all, I long to let him know
Pris. Sir Malcolmofour barons was the flower; Who his true parents are, to clasp his neck,
The safest friend, the best, the kindest master.   And tell him all the story of his father.
But ah! he knew not of my sad estate.        Anna. With wary caution you must bear your
After that battle, where his gallant son,         self
Your own brave brother, fell, the good old lord    In public, lest your tenderness break forth,
Grew desperate and reckless of the world;   And in observers stir conjectures strange.
And never, as he erst was wont, went forth  To-day the baron started at your tears.
To overlook the conduct of his servants.      Lady R. He did so, Anna: well thy mistress
By them I was thrust out, and them I blame:       knows
May heaven so judge me as I judge my master! If the least circumstance,, mote of offence,
And God so love me as I love his race!      Should touch the baron's eye, his sight would bo
LadyR. His race shall yet reward thee. On With jealousy disorder'd. But the more
thy faith:It does behove me instant to declare
Depends the fate of thy lov'd master's house.  The birth of Douglas, and assert his rights.
Rememb'rest thou a little, lonely hut,        Anna. Behold, Glenalvon comes.
That like a holy hermitage appears-           Lady R. Now I shun him not.
Among the cliffs of Carron?                This day I brav'd him in behalf of Norval;
Pris. I remember the cottage of the cliffs.  Perhaps too far; at least my nicer fears
Lady R.'Tis that I mean:                 For Douglas thus interpret.
There dwells a man of venerable age,
Who in my father's service spent his youth:              Enter GLENALVON.
Tell him I sent thee, and with him remain,    Glen. Noble dame,
Till I shall call upon thee to declare,     The hovering Dane at last his men hath landed:
Before the king and nobles, what thou now   No band of pirates; but a mighty host,
To me hast told. No more but this, and thou    That come to settle where their valour conquers:
Shalt live in honour all thy future days;   To win a country, or to lose themselves.
Thy son so long shall call thee father still,  A nimble courier, sent from yonder camp,
And all the land shall bless the man who sav'd   To hasten up the chieftains of the north,
The son of Douglas, and Sir Malcolm's heir.    Inibrm'd me as he pass'd, that the fierce Dane
Remember well my words; if thou shouldst meet'Had on the eastern coasts of Lothian landed.
Him, whom thou call'st thy son, still call him so;   Lady R. How many mothers shall bewail their
And mention nothing of his nobler father.          sons!
Pris. Fear not that I shall mar so fair aharvest, How many widows weep their husbands slain!
By putting in my sickle ere'tis ripe,      Ye dames of Denmark, even for you I feel,
Why did 1 leave my home and ancient dame    Who sadly sitting on the sea-beat shore,
To find the youth, to tell him all I knew,  Long look for lords that never shall return.
And make him wear these jewels on his arm;     Glen. Oft has th' unconquer'd Caledonian sword
Which might, I thought, be challeng'd and so Widow'd the north. The children of the slain
bring                                 Come, as 1 hope, to meet their fathers' fate.
To hight the secret of his noble birth.     The monster War, with her infernal brood,




:NE;1.]                             D' DO U G L  AS.                                    163
Loud-yelling -fury and; life-e;nding pain,'   <' The Danes are landed: We must beat them back,
Are objects- sn'ited to Gllvon' s soul.:       Or live the slaves of Denmark.
-Scorn is more grievous than the pains of death;  Lady1 R. Dreadful time!.
Reproach more piercing than the pointed sword.   "Lord R. The fenceless villages are all forsaken;' Lady R. I sr thee not,;but' when I ouight to  The'trembling mothers a-nd their children ldg'd
s- -scorn;',"';.'''..                 In wall-girt towers and castles!  hilst the'.men
Nor e'er repr6oach, but when' insulted. v'irttUe'.    Retire ind'ignant: yet, like broken waves,':''
Against audacious vice aisserts herseflf.'      They but retirtie, more awful to return.'.
I own thy- worth, Glenalvii';'none more apt'     Lady R. Immense, as fame.repbrts, theDainish
Than I to- praise' thine eminhen'ce in arms,          host 
An'fd-ib tie' echo' of thy mniartial fame.. Lord P. Were it as numer:ous as loud fame
No longer vain ly feed a guilty pa ssion:. "          reports;
Go and pursue'a la-wful- mistress, Glory:.      A n army knit like ours'would pier'ceit through:
Upon the Danisih -crest rede'emi thy fault,'"   Brothers that shrink not fromeach other's side
Ani l-et thy' valour bie the:shield o Randolph.  And fond comnpanions, f ll our warlike files':''.
G2-lef:it. Onle instant stay, and hear an alter'd man. For his dear offspring, and the wife: he.loves,'.
When beauty pleads for virtue', vice abash'd    The husband and-the fearless father arm;'
Flies its own colurs, ad g'es o'er to virtue.'    In vulgar breasts herbic ardou'r burns
i'am  our convert, tim'e w'ili show how'truly:    And the poor peasant iiates'-his darin ord.'
Yet one immbdiate proof I mean'to give.'  Lady R. Men's' minds'are temperidike their
That yo-uth,: for'&wh"om you'r ardent zeal'to-day    swords, for war;.
Somewhat too haughtily defied your slave,       Lovers of d   anger, on destructions brink
Amidst the shock of arm'ies'I'll defend,  They joy to' rear erect:their darin-g forims'.
Arid turn death from him', with a:guardian arm.  Hence, early graives; hence, the lone' widow's life;
Lady R. Act thus, Glenalvon, and I am thy  And the sad mother's'grief-embitter'd age.
friend;                                  Where is our gallant guest 
But that's thy least reward. Believe me: Sir,     Lord R. Down in the vale' 
The truly generous is the truly wise;           I left' him managing'a fiery st'eed,
And he, who loves not others; iiv'es" Unbiess'd.     Whose stubbornness had f6ild'the strength and
[Exit LADY RANDOLPH.           skill
Glen. Amen'!'and virtue is its own reward:    Of every rider.  But now he comes,
I think that I have hit the very tone           In earnest conversation with Glenalvon.
In which she loves to speak. Honey'd assent,
How pleasant art thou to the taste of man,
And' woman also! flattery direct'               Glenalvon, with the lark arise;  goforth'
Rarely disgusts.  They little'know mankind     And lead my troops that lie in yonder vale:
Who doubt its operatin:'tis' my key,.         Private I travel to the royal camp:
And opes the wicket of the- human heart.        Norval thou goest with me. But say, young man,
How far:I havesucceeded now, I know not;       Where didst thou learn-so to discourse of war,
Yet I incline to think her stormy virtue'    And in such terms, as 1 o'erheard to-day?
Is lull'd awhile:'tis her alone I fear':       War is no village science, nor its phrase
Wh'il:she -and Randolp0h live', andiive in faith    A language taught amon'gst the shepherd swain's
And amity, uncertain is my tenure.                Nor. Small is the skill my lord' delights to praise
The slaveof' Norval's I hav,,e found. most apt'  In him he favours.  Hear from whence it came.
I show'd him gold, and' he hias pawn'd lis soul   Beneath a mountain's brow;'the most remote'
To say anrd swear "whate'ver I suggest.'       And inaccessible by shepherds trod,
Norval, l'm toid, has:that alluring look,.  In a deep cave, dug by no mortal hand,
TL'wixt'm~an,an~d wom'an,. whichI have observ'd   A hermit livi'd:; a melancholy man! 
To charim the nicer an'd fantastic dames,:   Who was the wonder of our wand'ring swains.
Who are, like Lady Randoph,'full of virtue'   Austere and lonely, cruel to himself
In raising R andolph's jealousy, I may          Did they report him; the cold earth his bed,
But point him to the' truth.' He seldom errs    Water his drink, his food the shepherds' alms.
Who thinks the worst he canoif womankind.       I went to see him, and ny h-eart was touch'd'
[Exit. With rev'rence and with pity.. -  ild he spke,
And, entering on discourse, such stories told,
/ACT  IV.-                    As made me' oft revisit his sad cell.
SCENE I.-The same.                  For he had been a soldier in his youthu;
And fought in famous battles,, when' the peers
Enhter LORD'RRANDOLPH, attended.:        Of Europe, by the bold Godfredo led.':'L6ord, R. Summon -a hundred horse, by break  Against the usurping infidel display'd.
o - day,                                 T e blessed cross and won the Holy Land.
To wait our pleasure at the castle gate.        Pleas'd with my admiration, and the fire
-   -  Enter LADY RANDOLPH.     f    His speech struck from me, the old man would
shake
Lady R. Alas, my lord I've heard unwelcome  His years away, and act his young encounters
news';                                   Then, having show'd his wounds, he'd sit him
The Danes are'landed.                                  down,
Lord R. Ay', no inroad thisl                  And all the live-long day discourse of war.
Of the Northumbriair,  bent to take a spoil:' To help my fancy, in the smooth green turf
No sportive war, nhotournament essay,.         He cut the figures of'the' marshall'd hosts.
Of some younglknight resolv'd'to break a spear,  Describ'd the'motions, and explain'd the uie
And stainwith hostile blood'his' maiden arms.' Of the deep column, and the len-gthen'd line




1634                               -D O UG L  A S.                             Ar 
The square, the crescent, and the phalanx firm:  Now, if I live, with mighty chiefs 1 stand:
For all that Saracen or Christian knew       And, if I fall, with noble dust I lie.
Of war's vast art, was to this hermit known.  Lady R. There is a generous spirit in thy
Lord R. Why did this soldier in a desert hide    breast,
Those qualities that should have grac'd a camp?  That could have well sustain'd a prouder fortune.
Nor. That too at last I learn'd. Unhappy man! This way with me; under yon spreading beech
Returning homewards by Messina's port,      Unseen, unheard, by human eye or ear,
Loaded with wealth and honours bravely won,   I will amaze thee with a wondrous tale.
A rude and boist'rous captain of the sea      Nor. Let there be danger, lady, with the secret.
Fasten'd a quarrel on him. Fierce they fought:  That I may hug it to my grateful heart,
The stranger fell, and with his dying breath  And prove my faith. Command my sword. my life
Declar'd his name and lineage. Mighty power! These are the sole possessions of poor Norval.
The soldier cried, my brother! Oh, my brother!   Lady R. Know'st thou these gems'
Lady R. His brother!                       Nor. Durst I believe mine eyes,
Nor. Yes; of the same parents born;       I'd say I knew them, and they were my father's.
His only brother. They exchanged forgiveness;   Lady R. Thy father's, say'st thou' ah, they
And happy in my mind was he that died;            were thy father's!
For many deaths has the survivor suffered.    Nor. I saw them once, and curiously inquir'd
In the wild desert on a rock he sits,       Of both my parents, whence such splendour came
Or on some nameless stream's untrodden banks,  But I was check'd, and more could never learn.
And ruminates all day his dreadful fate.      Lady R. Then learn of me-thou art not Nor.
At times, alas! not in his perfect mind,          val's son.
Holds dialogues with his lov'd brother's ghost;  Nor. Not Norval's son' 
And oft each night forsakes his sullen couch,  Lady R. Nor of a shepherd sprung.
To make sad orisons for him he slew.          Nor. Who am I then'
Lady R. In this dire tragedy were there no more   Lady R. Noble thou art,
Unhappy persons? did the parents live'    For noble was thy sire..
Nor. No, they were dead; kind heaven had   Nor. I4vill believeclos'd their eyes,                    Oh, tell me further! say, Who was my father?
Before their son had shed his brother's blood.  Lady R. Douglas!
Lord R. Hard is his fate; for he was not to   Nor. Lord Douglas, whom to-day I saw?
blame!  Lady R. His younger brother.
There is a destiny in this strange world,     Nor. And in yonder camp'
Which oft,decrees an undeserved doom:         Lady R. Alas!
Let schoolmen tell us why-                    Nor. You make me tremble-Sighs and tears!
[ Trumpets at a distance. Lives my brave father?
From whence these sounds?                    Lady R. Ah! too brave, indeed!
Enter an O''FFICER.            He fell in battle ere thyself was born.
Nor. Ah me, unhappy! ere I saw the light!
Offi. My lord, the trumpets of the troops of But does my mother live'   I may conclude,
Lorn!                                 From my own fate, her portion has been sorrow.
The valiant leader hails the noble Randolph.  Lady R. She lives; but wastes her life in conLord R. Mine ancient guest! does he the war-    stant wo,
riors lead 1                          Weeping her husband slain, her infant lost.
Hias Denmark rous'd the brave old knight in arms?   Nor. You that are skill'd so well in the sad story
Offi. No; worn with warfare, he resigns the Of my unhappy parents, and with tears
sword.                                Bewail their destiny, now have compassion
His eldest hope, the valiant John of Lorn,  Upon the offspring of the friends you lov'd;
Now leads his kindred bands.                Oh, tell me who and where my mother is!
Lord R. Glenalvon, go;                    Oppress'd by a base world, perhaps she bends
With hospitality's most strong request      Beneath the weight of other ills than grief;
Entreat the chief.       [Exit GLENALVON. And, desolate, implores of heaven the aid
Offi. My lord, requests are vain.         Her son should give. It is, it must be, soHe urges on, impatient of delay,            Your countenance confesses that she's wretched,
Stung with the tidings of the foe's approach.  Oh, tell me her condition! Can the swordLord R. May victory sit upon the warrior's Who shall resist me in a parent's cause?
plume!                                  Lady R. Thy virtue ends her wo-My son!
Bravest of men! his flocks and herds are safe;   my son!
Remote from war's alarms his pastures lie,  I am thy mother, and the wife of Douglas!
By mountains inaccessible secur'd:                                  [Falls upon his neck.
Yet foremost he into the plain descends,      Nor. Oh, heaven and earth! how wondrous is
Eager to bleed in battles not his own.            my fate!
11 go and press the hero to my breast.      Art thou my mother'  Ever let me kneel!
[Exit with OFFICER.   Lady R. Image of Douglas! fruit of fatal love i
Lady R. The soldier's loftiness, the pride and All that I owe thy sire I pay to thee.
pomp                                    Nor. Respect and admiration still possess me,
Investing awful war, Norval, I see,         Checking the love and fondness of a son:
Transport thy youthful mind.                Yet I was filial to my humble parents.
Nor. Ah! should they not'?               But did my sire surpass the rest of men,
Bless'd be the hour I left my father's house!  As thou excellest all of womankind?.
I might have been a shepherd all my days,     Lady R. Arise, my son. In me thou dost behold
And stole obscurely to a peasant's grave..The poor remains of beauty once admir'd.




SCENE 1.]                          D O UG L A S.                                  165
Yet in my prime I equall'd not thy father;     Enter LORD RANDOL.PH and GLENALYON.
His eyes were like the eagle's, yet sometimes
Liker the dove's; and, as he pleas'd, he won  Lord R. Yon gallant chief,
All hearts with softness, or with spirit aw'd.  Of arms enamour'd, all repose disclaims.
Nor. How did he fall?  Sure'twas a bloody   Lady R. Be not, my lord, by his example
field                                       sway'd.
When Douglas died! Oh, I have much to ask! Arrange the business of to-morrow now,
Lady R. Hereafter thou- shalt hear the length- And when you enter, speak of war no more.
en'd tale                                                                  [Exit.
Of all thy father's and thy mother's woes.    Lord R.'Tis so, by heaven i her mien, her
At present this-Thou art the rightful heir        voice, her eye,
Of yonder castle, and the wide domains,     And her impatience to be gone, confirm it.
Which now Lord Randolph, as my husband,holds.   Glen. He parted from her now. Behind the
But thou shalt not be wrong'd; I have the power   mount
To right thee still. Before the king l'll kneel,   Amongst the trees, I saw him glide along.
And call Lord Douglas to protect his blood.   Lord R. For sad sequester'd virtue she's reNor. The blood of Douglas will protect itself.   nown'd.
Lady R. But we shall need both friends, and    Glen. Most true, my lord.
favour, boy,                            Lord R. Yet this distinguish'd dame
To wrest thy lands and lordship from the gripe   Invites a youth, the acquaintance of a day,
Of Randolph and his kinsman. Yet I think    Alone to meet her at the midnight hour.
My tale will move each gentle heart to pity,  This assignation, [Shows a letter.] the assassin
My life incline the virtuous to believe.           freed,
Nor.'Io be the son of Douglas is to me   Her manifest affection for the youth;
Inheritance enough! Declare my birth,       Might breed suspicion in a husband's brain,
And in the field I'll seek for fame and fortune.   Whose gentle consort all for love had wedded:
Lady P. Thou dost not know what perils and Much more in mine. Matilda never lov'd me.
injustice                             Let no man, after me, a woman wed,
Await the poor man's valour. Oh, my son!    Whose heart he knows he has not, though she
The noblest blood of all the land's abash'd,      bring
Having no lackey but pale poverty.          A mine of gold, a kingdom, for her dowry;
Too long hast thou been thus attended, Douglas! For let her seem, like the night's shadowy queen.
Too long hast thou been deem'd a peasant's Cold and contemplative-he cannot trust her;
child:                                She may, she will, bring shame and sorrow on him;
The wanton heir of some inglorious chief    The worst of sorrows, and the worst of shames!
Perhap.. has scorn'd thee in thy youthful sports,    Glen. Yield not, my lord, to such afflicting
Whilst thy indignant spirit swell'd in vain.       thoughts,
Such contumely thou no more shalt bear:      But let the spirit of a husband sleep,
But how I purpose to redress thy wrongs      Till your own senses make a sure conclusion.
Must be hereafter told. Prudence directs     This billet must to blooming Norval go:
That we should part before yon chief's return.   At the next turn awaits my trusty spy;
Retire, and from thy rustic follower's hand  I'll give it him refitted for his master.
Receive a billet, which thy mother's care,   In the close thicket take your secret: stand;
Anxious to see thee, dictated before         The moon shines bright, and' your own eyes may
This casual opportunity arose                     judge
Of private conference. Its purport mark:     Of their behaviour.
For, as I there appoint, we meet again.       Lord R. Thou dost counsel well.
Leave me, my son, and frame thy manners still  Glen. Permit me now to make one slight essay:
To Norval's, not to noble Douglas': state.  Of all the trophies, which vain mortals boast,
Nor. I will remember. Where is Norval now, By wit, by valour, or by wisdom, won,
That good old man.            The first and fairest in a young man's eye
Lady R. At hand conceal'd he lies,        Is woman's captive heart. Successful love
A useful witness. But beware, my son,       With glorious fumes intoxicates the mind,
Of yon Glenalvon; in his guilty breast      And the proud conqueror in triumph moves,
Resides a villain's shrewdness, ever prone   Air-borne, exalted above vulgar men.
To false conjecture. - He hath griev'd my heart.    Lord R. And what avails this maxim?
Nor. Has he, indeed?  Then let yon false    Glen. Much, my lord.
Glenalvon                             Withdraw a little; I'll accost young Norval,
Beware of me.                        [Exit. And with ironical, derisive counsel 
Lady R. There burst the smother'd flame.    Explore his spirit. If he is no more
0, thou all-righteous and eternal King!    Than humble Norval, by thy favour rais'd,
Who father of the fatherless art call'd,    Brave as he is, he'll shrink astonish'd from me X
Protect my son! thy inspiration, Lord!     But, if he be the favourite of the fair,
Hath fill'd his bosom with that sacred fire,  Lov'd by the first of Caledonia's dames,
Which in the breasts of his:forefathers burn'd:   He'll turn upon me, as the lion turns
Set him on high, like them, that he may shine   Upon the hunter's spear.
The star and glory of his native land!-  Lord R.'Tis shrewdly thought.
Yonder they come. How do bad women find        Glen. When we grow loud, draw near. But
Unchanging aspects to conceal their guilt,'       let my lord
When 1, by reason and by justice urg'd       His rising wrath, restrain!-  [Exit RANDOLPR
Full hardly can dissemble with these men'Tis strange, by heaven'!
In:nature's pious cause?'                That she should run full tilt her fond career




!6,~                              of o U G L A S.                            [CT I
roone so.little known. She,. too, that seem'd  Glen. Thy truth. thou'rt all a liee and false as
Pure as' the winter stream, when ice, emboss'd,   hell
Whitens its course. Even I did think.her chaste, Is the vainglorious tale thou told'st to Randolph.
Whose charity exceeds not. Precious sex!     Nor. If I were chain'd, unarm'd, and bed-rid ol1,
Whose deeds lascivious pass Glenalvon's thoughts! Perhaps I should revile: but, as I am,
1 have no tongue to rail. The humble Norval
nter NORVAL..Is of a race who strive not but with deeds.
His port I love: he s in a proper mood      Did I not fear to. freeze thy shallow valour,
To chide the thunder, if at him it roar'd.-  And make thee sink too soon beneath my sword,
[Aside. I'd tell thee —whatthou art. I know thee well.
Has Norval seen the troops.                 Glen. DPost thou not know Glenalvon born to
Nor. The setting sun                            command
With. yellow radiance lighten'd all the vale;  Ten thousand slaves like thee —And as the warriors mov'd, each polish'd helm,  Nor. Villain, no more!          [Draws.
Corslet, or spear, glanc'd back his gilded beams.  Draw, and defend thy life. I did design
The hill they climb'd, and, halting at its top,  To have defied thee in another cause;
Of more than mortal size, towering, they seem'd  But heaven accelerates its vengeance on thee.
A host angelic, clad in burning arms.       Now for my own and Lady Randolph's wrongs.
Glen. Thou.talk'st it well; no leader of our host                         [ Theyfight.
In sounds more lofty speaks of glorious war.Enter LORD RANDOLPH
Nor. If I shall e'er acquire a leader's name,
My speech -will be less ardent. - Novelty     Lord R. Hold, I command you both. The man
Now prompts my tongue, and youthful admiration    that stirs
Vents itself freely; since no part is mine  Makes me his foe.
Of praise pertaining.to the great in arms.    Nor. Another voice than thine
Glen.: You. wrong yourself, brave Sir; your That threat had vainly sounded, noble Randolph.
martial deeds.-Glen. Hear him, my lord; he's wondrous conHave rank'd you with the great. But mark me,      descending!
Nor.val:,' Mark the humility of shepherd Norval!
Lord Randolph's favour now exalts your youth  Nor. Now you may scoff in safety.
Above his veterans of famous service.                                [Sheathes his sword.
Let me,, who know these soldiers, counsel you.  Lord R. Speak not thus,
Give them all honour: seem not to command;    Taunting each other; but unfold to me
Else they will scarcely brook your late sprung The cause of quarrel, then I judge betwixt you.
power,                                  Nor. Nay, my good lord, though I. revere you
Which nor alliance props, nor birth adorns.       much,
Nor. Sir, I have been accustomed all my days  My cause I plead not, nor. demand your judgment.
To hear and speak the plain and.simple truth:   I blush to speak; I will not, cannot, speak
And though I have been told that there are men  The opprobrious words that I from him have
Who borrow friendship's t ongue to speak their    borne:
scorn,                                To the liege lord of my dear native land
Yet in such language I am little skill'd.   I owe a subject's homage;: but even him.
Therefore I thank. Glenalvon for his-counsel,  And his high arbitration I'd reject.
Although it sounded harshly  Wh  remind     Within my bosom reigns another lord;
Me of my birth obscure' Why slur my power   Honour, sole judge and. umpire of itself.
With such contemptuous terms:1             If my free speech offend you, noble Randolph,
Glen. I did not mean                      Revoke your favours, and let'Norval go
To gall your.pride,, which now I see is great.  Hence as he came, alone, but not dishonour'd.
Nor. My pride!                              Lord R. Thus far I'll mediate with impartial
Glen. Suppress it, as you wish to prosper.      voice:
Your pride's excessive. Yet for Randolph's.sake, The ancient foe of Caledonia's land
I will not leave you to its rash direction..  Now waves her. banners o'er her frighted fields.
If thus you swell, and frown.at high-born men,   Suspend your-purpose, till your country's arms
Will high-born men endure a shepherd's scorn'?  Repel the bold: invader; -then decide
Nor. A shepherd's scorn!                  The private quarrel.
Glen. Yes; if you presume                   Glen. I agree to this.
To bend on soldiers these disdainful eyes,    Nor. And I."
What will become of youQ.
Nor. If this were told.   -       Aside.Enter SERVANT.
Hast thou no fears.-for thy presumptuous self'?  Serv. The banquet waits.
Glen. Ha! dost thou threaten me?           Lord R. We come.        rExit, with SERV.
Nor. Didst thou not hear?                  Glen. Norval,
Glen. Unwillingly I did; a nobler foe     Let not our variance mar the social hour,
Had not beenquestion'd thus. But such asthee- Nor wrong the hospitality of Randolph.'
Nor. Whom.dost thou.think me?           Nor:frowning anger,.nor yet wrinkled hate,
Glen. Norval.. -,...    Shall stain my countenance. Smooth thou thy
Nor. So I am-                                   brow;.
And who is N. orval, in Glenalvon's eyes.    Nor let our strife disturb the gentle dame.
Glen. A peasant's son, a wandering beggar boy;   Nor. Think not.so lightly, Sir, of my resentAt best no more, even if he speaks the truth.     ment.
Nor. False as thou art, dost thou suspect my When we contend again,- our strife is mortal.
truth.  [Exeunt.




'ENE:I. [                         DjO U G      L AS.-                            167
ACT:V.                   With many a wearied step and wishful look.
Now Providence hath brought you to my sight,
SCEINE I.-A Wood.                Let not your too courageous spirit scorn
Enter DOUGLAS.                The caution which I give.
Doug. I scorn it not.
Doug. This isthe place, thecentre of the grove; My mother warn'd me of Glenalvon's baseness:
Here stands t.he oak, the monarch of the wood.   But I will not suspect the noble Randolph.
How sweet and: solemn is: this midnight scene!   In our encounter with the vile assassins,
The silver moon, unclouded, holds her way    I mark'd his brave demeanour; him I'll trust.
Through skies, where I could count each little star;   Old N. I fear you will, too far.
The fanning west wind scarcely stirs the leaves;   Doug. Here in this place
The river, rushing o'er its pebbled bed,     I wait my mother's coming; she shall kinow
Imposes silence with a stilly sound.         What thou hast told: her counsel I will follow:
In such a place as this, at such an hour,    And cautious ever are a mother's counsels.
If ancestry can be in aught believ'd,        You must depart: your presence may prevent
Descending spirits have convers'd with men,  Our interview.
And told the secrets of the world unknown.     Old N. My blessing rest upon thee!
E'nter OLD NORVAT.              Oh, may heaven's hand, which sav'd thee from
the wave,
Old N.' ris he. But what if he should chide And from the sword of foes, be near thee still;
me hence?                             Turning mischance, if aught hangs o'er thy head,.
His just reproach I fear.   [DoUGLAS sees him. All upon mine!                     [Exit.
Forgive! forgive!                              Doug. He loves me like a parent;
Canst thou forgive the man, the selfish man,  And must not, shall not, lose the son he loves,:Who bred Sir Malcolm's heir a shepherd's son.  Although his son has found a nobler father.
Doug. Kneel not to me; thou art my father still. Eventful day! how hast thou chang'd my state!
Thy wish'd-for presence now completes my joy.  Once, on the cold and winter-shaded side
Welcome to me; my fortunes thou shalt share,   Of a bleak hill, mischance had rooted me,
And ever: honour'd with thy Douglas live.    Never to thrive, child of another soil;
Old N. And dost thou call me father?:Oh, my  Transplanted now to the gay sunny vale,
son!                                  Like the green thorn of May my fortune flowers.
I think that I could die to make amends     Ye glorious stars! high heaven's resplendent host!
For the great wrong T did thee.'Twas my crime, To whom I oft have of my lot complain'd,
Which in the wilderness so long conceal'd.. Hear, and record my soul's unalter'd wish!
The blossom of thy youth.                    Dead or alive, let me but be renown'd!
Doug. Not worse the fruit,                 May heaven inspire some fierce gigantic Dane,
Ihat in the wilderness the blossom blow'd.  To give a bold defiance to our host!
Amongst the shepherds, in the humble cot,    Before he speaks it out, I will accept:
I learn'd some lessons, which. I'll. not forget  Like Douglas conquer, or like Douglas die.
When I inhabit yonder lofty towers.
I, who was once a swain, will ever prove
The poor man's friend; and, when my vassals bow,   Lady R. My son! I heard a voiceNorval shall smooth the crested pride of Douglas.   Doug. The voice was mine.
Old N. Let me but live to see thine exaltation!   Lady R. Didst thou complain aloud to nature's
Yet grievous are my fears. Oh, leave this place,   ear,
And those unfriendly towers!                 That thus in dusky shades, at midnight hours.
Doug. Why should I leave them?           By stealth the mother and the son should meei.
Old N,  Lord Randolph and his kinsman seek                             [ They embrace.
your life.                              Doug. No; on this happy day, this better birth.
Doug. How know'st thou that.                    day,
Old N. I will inform you how.             My thoughts and words are all of hope and joy.
When evening came, I left the secret place    Lady R. Sad fear and melancholy still divide
Appointed for me by your mother's care,     The empire of my breast with hope and joy.
And fondly trod in each accustom'd path     Now hear what I adviseThat to the castle leads. Whilst thus I rang'd,    Doug. First, let me tell
I was alarm'd with unexpected sounds        What may the tenour of your counsel change.
Of earnest voices. On the persons came.       Lady R. My heart forebodes some evil.
Unseen I lurk'd, and overheard them name      Doug.'Tis not goodEach other as they talk'd, lord Randolph this,    At eve, unseen by Randolph and Glenalvon,
And that Glenalvon. Still of you they spoke,    The good old Norval in the grove o'erheard
And of the lady: threat'ning was their speech,    Their conversation; oft they mentioned me
Though but imperfectly my ear could hear it.:   With dreadful threat'nings; you they sometimes?Twas strange, they said, a wonderful discovery;   nam'd.
And ever and anon they vow'd revenge.'Twas strange, they said, a wonderful discovery; 
Doug. Revenge! for what?.   And ever and anon they vow'd revenge.
Old N. For being what you are,:   Lady R. Defend us, gracious God! we are beSir Malcolm's heir: how-else have you offended?   tray'd.
When they were gone, I hied me to my cottage,  They have found out the secret of thy birth!
And there sat musing how I: best might find  It must be so. That is the great discovery.
Means to inform you of their wicked purpose;    Sir Malcolm's heir is come to claim his own;
But I could think of none. At last, perplex'd,   And they will be reveng'd. Perhaps even now,
I issued forth, encompassing the tower,      Arm'd and prepar'd for murder. they but wait




168                               D O U G L AS.                                [AT V.
A darker and more silent hour, to break      Just as they are separating, enter, from the Wood
Into the chamber where they think thou sleep'st.   LORD RANDOLPH and GLENALVON
This moment, this, heaven hath ordain'd to save
thee!                                  Lord R. Not in her presence.
Fly to the camp, my son!                     NowDoug. And leave you here  Gle. I'm prepared.
No: to the castle let us go together,          Lord R. No; I command thee, stav.
Call up the ancient servants of your house,  Ta t I       took odds to combat mortal man.
Who in their youth did eat your father's bread;   I          took odds to combat mortal man.
Then tell them loudly, that I am your son.   The noblest vengeance i the most complete.
If in the breasts of men one spark remains         [GLENALVON makes some steps to the same
Of sacrecd love, fidelity, or pity,                E-(~LENALVON makes some steps to the same
Of sacreu love, fidelity, or pity,
Some in your cause will arm. I ask but few           side of the stage, listens, and speaks.
To drive these spoilers from my father's house.  Glen. Demons of death, come settle on my sword.
To drive these spoilers from my father's house,
Lady R. Oh, nature, nature! what can check And to a double slaughter guide it home!
~~~~~~thy forceThe lover and the husband both must die.
Thou genuine offspring of the daring Douglas  Lod R. [Without.] Draw, villain! draw!
But rush not on destruction: save thyself,     Doug. [Without.]  ssail me not, Lord RanAnd I am safe. To me they mean no harm.           dthoulov'stthyself  [Clashinghfswor
Thy stay but risks thy precious life in vain.
Thy stay but risks thy precious life in vain.  Not as thou lov'st thyself. [Clashing of swords.;That winding path conducts thee to the river.  Glen. [Running out.] Now is the time.
Cross where thou seest a broad and beaten way,  Enter LADY RANDOLPH, at the opposite side f
Which, running eastward, leads thee to the camp.    the stage,faint and breathless.
Instant demand admittance to lord Douglas:
Show him these jewels which his brother wore.  Lady R. Lord Randolph, hear me: all shall be
Thy look. thy voice, will make him  feel the      thine own 
truth,                                But spare! Oh, spare my son!
Which I by certain proof will soon confirm.    Enter DOUGLAS, with a sword in each hand.
Doug. I yield me, and obey: but yet my heart
Bleeds at this parting. Something bids me stay,    Doug. My mother's voice 
And guard a mother's life. Oft have I read  I can protect thee still.
Of wondrous deeds by one bold arm achiev'd.   Lady R. He lives! he lives!
Our foes are two; no more: let me go forth,  For this, for this, to heaven, eternal praise!
And see if any shield can guard Glenalvon.  But sure I saw thee fall.
Lady R. If thou regard st thy mother, or re-   Doug. It wasGlenalvon.
ver'st                                Just as my arm had master'd Randolph's sword,
Thy father's memory, think of this no more.  The villain came behind me; but I slew him.
One thing I have to say before we part:        Lady R. Behind thee! ah! thou art wounded!
Long wert thou lost; and thou art found, my child,  Oh, my child,
In a most fearful season. War and battle    How pale thou look'st! and shall I lose thee now?
I have great cause to dread. Too well I see    Doug. Do not despair: I feel a little faintness,
Which way the current of thy temper sets.   I hope it will not last.  [Leans upon his sword.
To-day I have found thee.  Oh! my long-lost   Lady R. There is no hope!
hope!  And we must part! the hand of death is on thee!
If thou to giddy valour giv'st the rein,    Oh! my beloved child! 0 Douglas, Douglas!
To-morrow I may lose my son for ever.              [DOUGLAS growing more and more faint.
The love of thee, before thou saw'st the light,  Doug. Oh! had I fallen as my brave fathers fell,
Sustain'd my life when thy brave father fell.  Turning with fatal arm the tide of battle,
If thou shalt fall, I have nor love nor hope  Like them I should have smil'd and welcom'd
In this waste world! My son, remember me  death!
Doug. What shall I say 2 HFow can I give you But thus to perish by a villain's hand 
comfort?                              Cut off from nature's and from glory's course,
The God of battles of my life dispose       Which never mortal was so fond to run.
As may be best for you! for whose dear sake  Lady R. Hear, justice, hear! stretch thy avengI will not bear myself as I resolv'd.              ing arm!              [DOUGLAsfalls.
But yet consider, as no vulgar name,          Doug. Unknown I die; no tongue shall speak
That which I boast, sounds among martial men,      of me.
How will inglorious caution suit my claim'    Some noble spirits, judging by themselves,
The post of fate unshrinking I maintain.    May yet conjecture what I might have prov'd,
My country's foes must witness who I am.    And think life only wanting to my fame:
On the invaders' heads I'll prove my birth,  But who shall comfort thee'Till friends and foes confess the genuine strain.    Lady R. Despair, despair 
If in this strife 1 fall, blame not your son,  Doug. Oh, had it pleas'd high Heaven to lot
Who, if he live not honour'd, must not live.       me live
Lady R. I will not utter'what my bosom feels. A little while!-my eyes that gaze on thee
Too well I love that valour which I warn.   Grow dim apace! my mother-O! my mother!
Farewell, my son, my counsels are but vain,   [Dies; LADY RANDOLPHfaints upon the body,
[ They embrace.      Enter LORD RANDOLPH and ANNA.
And as high heaven hath will'd it, all must be.
[They separate.   Lord R. Thy words, thy words of truth, have
Gaze not on me, thou wilt mistake the path;        pierc'd my heart:'1ll point it out again.          [Exeunt. I am the stain of knighthood and of arms.




SCENE.]                           DOU G LAS.                                     169
Oh! if my brave deliverer survives          Though slain and baffled by the hand he hated.
The traitor's sword                          Foaming with rage and fury to the last.
Anna. Alas! look there, my lord.          Cursing his conqueror, the felon died.
Lord R. The mother and her son! How
Re-enter ANNA.
curs'd am I!
Was I the cause?  No: I was not the cause.    Anna. My lord! my lord!
Yon matchless villain did seduce my soul       Lord R. Speak: I can hear of horror.
To frantic jealousy.                           Anna. Horror, indeed!
Anna. My lady lives:                         Lord R. Matilda!
The agony of grief hath but suppress'd         Anna. Is no more:
Awhile her powers.                           She ran, she flew like lightning up the hill:
Lord R. But my deliverer's dead!          Nor halted till the precipice she gain'd,
Lady R. [Recovering.] Where am I now? Beneath whose lowering top the river falls
Still in this wretched world?        Ingulf'd in rifted rocks: thither she came,
Grief cannot break a heart so hard as mine.    - As fearless as the eagle lights upon it,
Lord R. Oh, misery!                        And headlong downAmidst thy raging grief I must proclaim        Lord R.'Twas I, alas!'twas I
My innocence.                                That fill'd her breast with fury; drove her down
Lady R. Thy innocence!                     The precipice of death! Wretch that I am!
Lord R. My guilt                             Anna. Oh, had you seen her last despairing look!
Is innocence compar'd with what thou think'st it.  Upon the brink she stood, and cast her eyes
Lady R. Of thee I think not; what have I to-do Down on the deep: then, lifting up her head
With thee, or any thing?  My son! my son!    And her white hands to heaven, seeming to say,
My beautiful! my brave! how proud was I      Why am I forc'd to this?  she plung'd herself
Of thee and of thy valour! my fond heart     Into the empty air.
O'erflow'd this day with transport, when I thought   Lord R. I will not vent,
Of growing old amidst a race of thine.       In vain complaints, the passion of my soul.
Now all my hopes are dead! A little while    Peace in this world I- never can enjoy.
Was I a wife! a mother not so long!        These wounds the gratitude of Randolph gave;
What am I now? —1 know-but I shall be       They speak aloud, and with the voice of fate
That only whilst I please; for such a son    Denounce my doom. I am resolv'd. I'll go
And such a husband drive me to my fate.      Straight to the battle, where the man that makes
[Exit, running. Me turn aside, must threaten worse than death.
Lord R. Follow her, Anna: I myself would Thou, faithful to thy mistress, take this ring,
follow,                               Full warrant of my power. Let every rite
But in this rage she must abhor my presence.    With cost and pomp upon their funerals wait:
[Exit ANNA. For Randolph hopes he never shall return.
]Curs'd, curs'd Glenalvon, he escap'd too well,      [ The curtain descends slowly to music:
VOL. I....Y       15




THE' INCONSITANT:
OR,
THE WAY TO WIN HIM:
A COMEDY,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY GEORGE FARQUHAR, EsQ.
REMARKS.
THIS lively and entertaining comedy:was first acted at Drury Lane in 1702..In his preface, the author.observes,
that he took the hint from Beaumont and Fletcher's Wild Goose Chase, though, in fact, the main plot and several
entire scenes were borrowed from that eccentric piece.
The catastrophe of the last act, where:Young-Mirabel is delivered from the bravoes by the care of Oriana, dtiguised as his page, was supposed to owe its origin to a similar affair, in which Farquhar himself had some coneern
when on military duty in France, where the scene is laid.
There are still some over-wrought passages in-this play, and some improbabilities, almost beyond the pale of that
license so liberally allowed to works of imagination: it is still, however, a great favourite.
The inimitable performance of Bisarre, by Mrs. Jordon, and of Duretete, by Mr. John: Bannister, will long be
remembered with delight.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
COVENT GARDEN, 1772.                      DRURY LANE, 1814.
OLD MIRABEL,..........              Mr. Shuter...........               Mr. Dowton.
YOUNG MIRABEL,..........             Mr. Smith..........                 Mr. Elliston.
DURETETE..........                 Mr. Woodward...................      Mr. Bannister.
DUGARD,..........                   Mr. Gardner...........            Mr. Holland
PETIT...........                Mr. Cushing............ Mr. Fisher.
ORIANA,..........                   Mrs. Lessingham....... Miss Boyce.
B1SARRE,..........             Mss Iacli..................... Mrs. Edwin.
LAMORCE,...............  Mrs. Dyer.........................  VMrs. Scott.
Ladies, Gentlemen Bravoes, Soldiers, Servants and Attendants.
ACT  I.                         Pet. How many will there be of you, Sir?
SCENE I.- The Street.                    Dug. Let me see; Mirabel one, Duretete two,
myself threeEnter DUGARD and his man PETIT, in riding-    Pet And I four.
habits.                        Dug. How  now, Sir! at your old travelling
Dug. Sirrah, what's a clock?                  familiarity! When abroad, you had some freedom
Pet. Turned of eleven, Sir.                    for want of better company; but, among my
Dug. No more! We have rid a swinging pace friends at Paris, pray remember your distancefiom Nemours since two this morning! Petit, run  Be gone, Sir-[Exit PE rIT.] This fellow's wit
to Rousseau's, and bespeak a dinner at a louis-d'or was necessary abroad, but he's too cunning for a
a head, to be ready by one.                       domestic; I must dispose of him some way else. 
170




c.N ix.]                      TUHE INCONSTANT.                                      171
Who's here? Old Mirabel and my sister! my  louis-d'or a head!'tis enough to stock the whole
4earest sister!                              nation with bastards;'tis, faith. Mr. Dugaid, I
leave you with your sister.          I[Exit.
Enter OLD. MIRABEL and ORIANA.           Dug.Well,, sister, I need not ask you how::.Qr i.My:brother!-Welcome.                 you do, your looks resolve me; fair, tall, well-Dug. Monsieur Mirabel! I'm heartily glad to shaped; you're almost grown out of my rememsee you.                                     brance.
Old Mir. Honest Mr. Dugard, by the blood. Ori. Why truly, brother, I look pretty well,
of the Mirabels, I'm your most humble servant.  thank nature and my toilet; I eat three meals a
Dug.:Wh.y, Sir, you've cast your skin sure, day, am very merry when up, and sleep soundly
you're brisk:.and gay, lusty health about you, no when I'm down.
sign of age but your silver hairs.             Dug. But, sister, you remember that upon my
Old MIir. Silver hairs,! Then they are quick- going abroad you would choose this old gentlesilver hairs, Sir. Whilst I have golden pockets, m.an.for your guardian; he's no more related to
let  my hairs be silver an they will. Adsbud, Sir, our family than Prester John, and I have no reaI can dance, and sing, and drink, and-no, I son to think you mistrusted my. management of
can't wench.: But, Mr. Dugard, no news of my your fortune: therefore, pray be so kind as to tell
son Bob in all your travels?                me, without reservation, the true cause of making
Dug. Your son's come home, Sir.           such a choice.
Old Mir. Come home! Bob come home! By    Ori. Lookye, brother, you were going a ramthe blood of the Mirabels, Mr. Dugard, what say  bling, and'twas proper, lest I should go a rambling
ye?-                                         too, that somebody should. take care of me..Old. Orn. Mr. Mirabel returned, Sir?          Monsieur Mirabel is an honest gentleman, was
Dug. He's certainly come, and you may see our father's friend, and has a young lady in this
him within this hour or two.                 house whose company I like, and who has chosen: Old lMir. Swear it, Mr. Dugard, presently him for her guardian as well as I.
swear it..    Dug. Who, Mademoiselle Bisarre?
Dug. Sir, he came to town with me this    Ori. The same; we live merrily together, withmorning; I left him at the Bagnieurs, being a out scandal or reproach; we make much of the
little disordered after riding, and I shall see him:old gentleman between us; and he takes care of
again presently..       us; we eat what we like, go. to bed when we
Old Mir. What! and he was ashamed to ask please, rise when we will, all the week we dance
a: blessing with his boots on. A nice.dog! Well, and sing, and upon Sundays go first to church,
and how fares the young rogue? ha?         and then to the play. —Now, brother, besides
Dug. A  fine gentleman, Sir. He'll be his these motives for choosing this gentleman for my
own -Hmessenger.        -:guardian, perhaps I had some private reasons.
Old Mlir. A fine gentleman! But is- the rogue    Dug. -Not so private as you imagine, sister;
like. me still?                             your love to young Mirabel is no secret, I can
Dug'. Why yes, Sir; he's very like his -mo- assure you; but so public that all -your friends ar
ther, and as like you as most modern sons are to ashamed on't.
their fathers.                                  Ori..O'my word, then my. friends are very bashOld Mir. Why,. Sir, don't you think that I ful; though I'm afraid, Sir, that those people are
begat him?                                  not ashamed enough at their own. crimes, who
)Dug. Why yes, Sir; you married his mother, have so many blushes to spare for the faults of
and he inherits your estate. He's very like you, their neighbours.
upon my word.                                  Dug. Ay but, sister, the people say.Ori. And pray, brother, what's become of his    Ori. Pshaw, hang the people; their court of
honest companion, Duretete?                 inquiry is a tavern, and their informer claret; they
Dug. Who, the captain?  The very same he think as they drink, and swallow reputations like
went abroad; he's the only Frenchman I ever loaches: a lady's health goes briskly round with
knew that could not change.  Your son, M'r. the glass, but her honour is lost in the toast.
Mirabel, is more obliged to nature for that fellow's   Dug. Ay; but, sister, there is still somethingcomposition than for his own; for he's more'   Ori. If there be something, brother,'tis none
happy in Duretete's folly than his own wit. In of the people's something; marriage is my thing,
short, they are as inseparable as finger and thumb; and I'll stick to't.
but the first instance in the world I believe, of'-Dug. Marriage! Young Mirable marry! He'll
opposition in friendship.'''             build churches sooner. Take heed, sister, though
Old 2Mir. Very well: will he be home to din- your honour stood proof to hishome-bred assaults,
ner, think ye?'                           you must keep a stricter guardfor the future: he'Dug. Sir, he has ordered me to bespeak a has now got the foreign air, and the Italian softdininer for us at Rousseau's, at a louis-d'or a ness; his wit's improved by converse, his behaviour
head.           -                            finished by observation, and his assurances conOld M2ir. A  louis-d'or a head! Well said, firmed by success. Sister, I can assure'you he
Bob; by -the blood of the Mirabels, Bob's im- has made his conquests; and'tis a plague. upon
proved:' But Mr. Dugard, was it so civil of Bob your sex,: to be the soonest deceived by those very
to visit Monsieur Rousseau before his own men that you know have been false to others.
natural father, eh? Harkye, Oriana, what think    Ori. For heaven's sake, brother, tell- me no
you:now of a fellow that can eat and drink'ye a more of his faults; for if you do, I shall  ruln mad
whole louis-d'or at a sitting':He must be as for him: say no more, Sir; let me but get hims
strong as Hercules, life and spirit in abundance. into the bands of matrimony, I'll spoil his wander':
Befoie Gad,'I dtn't Wonder at.these men of ing, I warrant him; I'll lo his business that'way,
quality, that their own wives can't serve'em. A.never fear.




172                         THE INCONSTANT.                                    [AcTr L
Dug. Well, sister. I won't pretend to under-   Mir. The women of England were excellent
stand the engagements between you and your did they not take such insufferable pains to ruin
lover; I expect when you have need of my council what nature has made so incomparably well. But
or assistance, you will let me know more -of your come, Duretete, let us mind the business in hand;
affairs. Mirabel is a gentleman, and, as far as mistresses we must havei and must take up with
my honour and interest can reach, you may com- the manufacture of the place, and upon a compemand me to the furtherance of your happiness: in tent diligence we shall find those in Paris shall
the meantime, sister, I have a great mind to make match the Italians from top to toe.
you a present of another humble servant; a fellow    Dur. Ay, Mirabel, you will do well enough,
that I took up at Lyons, who-has served me honest- but what will become of your friend? you know
ly ever since.                               I am so plaguy bashful, so naturally an ass upon
Ori. Then why will you part with him?    these occasions, thatDug. He has gained so insufferably on my   Mir. Pshaw, you must be bolder, man: travel
good humour, that he's grown too familiar; but three years, and bring home such a baby as bashthe fellow's cunning, and may be serviceable to fulness! A great lusty fellow! and a soldier! fie
you in your affair with Mirabel. Here he comes. upon it.
Enter PETIT.:Dur. Lookye, Sir, I can visit, and I can ogle
a little-as thus, or thus now-but if they chance
Well, Sir, have you been at Rousseau's?    to give me a forbidding look, as some women, you
Pet. Yes, Sir, and who should I find there but know, have a devilish cast with their eyes-or if
Mr. Mirabel and the captain, hatching as warmly they cry-what d'ye mean?  what d'ye take me
over a tub of ice, as two hen pheasants over a for  Fie, Sir, remember who I am  Sir-   A
brood.-They would not let me bespeak any person of quality to be used at this rate!'egad,
thing, for they had dined before I came.    I'm struck as flat as a frying pan.
Dug. Come, Sir, you shall serve my sister; I   Mir. Words o'course! never mind'em: turn
shall still continue kind to you.-Wait on your you about upon your heel with a jantee air; hum
lady home, Petit.                    [Exit. out the end of an old song; cut a cross caper, and
Pet. A chair, a chair, a chair!          at her again.
Ori. No, no, I'll walk home,'tis but next   Dur. [Imitates him.] No, hang it,'twill never
door.                                [Exit. do.-Oons, what did my father mean by sticking
SCENE II.-A Tavern.               me up in a university, or to think that I should
MIRABEL and DURETETE rise from- the table. gain any thing by my head, in a nation whose
genius lies all in their heels. -Well, if ever I
Mir. Welcome to Paris once more, my dear come to have children of my own, they shall have
captain; we have eat heartily, drank roundly, the education of the country; they shall learn to
paid plentifully, and let it go for once. I liked dance before they can walk, and be taught to sing
every thing but our women, they looked so lean before they can speak.
and tawdry, poor creatures!'tis a sure sign the Mir. Come, come, throw off that childish huarmy is not paid.-Give me the plump Venetian, mour; put on assurance, there's no avoiding it;
brisk and sanguine, that smiles upon me like the stand all hazards, thou'rt a stout lusty fellow, and
glowing sun, and meets my lips like sparkling hast a good estate; look bluff, Hector, you have a
wine, her person shining as the glass, and spirit good slde-box face, a pretty impudent face; so,
like the foaming liquor.                    that's pretty well.-This eluow went abroad like
Dur. Ah, Mirabel, Italy, I grant you; but for an ox, and is returned like an ass.  [Aside
our women here in France, they are such thin    Dur. Let me see new how I look. [Pulls ora
brawn-fallen jades.                          a pocket-glass, and looks on it.] A  side-boi
Mir. There's nothing on this side the Alps facesay you cke -'F,, I don't like it, Mirabel.worth my humble service'tye —Ha, Roma la Fie, Sir, don't ab'ire your friends. I could not
santa! Italy for my money; their customs, gar- wear such a face or the best countess in Christen,
dens, buildings, paintings, music, polices, wine, dom.
and women! the paradise of the world;-not''Mir. Why an't you, blockhead, as well as I 
pestered with a parcel of precise old gouty fellows,   Dur. Wb f. thou hast impudence to set a good
that would debar their children every pleasure face upon anly thing; I would change half my
that they themselves are past the sense of; com- gold for halt thy brass, with all my heart. Who
mend me to the Italian familiarity: Here, son, comes here? Odso, Mirahel, your father?
there's fifty crowns; go pay your girl her week's
allowance.                                              Enter OLD MIRABEL.
Dur. Ay, these are your fathers for you, that   Old Mir. Where's Bob?  dear Bob 7
understand the necessities of young men; not like   Mir. Your blessing, Sir.
our musty dads, who, because they cannot fish    Old Mir. My blessing! Damn ye, ye young
themselves, would muddy the water, and spoil the rogue; why did not you come to see your father
sport of them that can. But now you talk of the first, Sirrah. My dear boy, I am heartily glad to
plump, what d'ye think of a Dutch woman?   see thee, my dear child, faith-Captain Duretete,
lMir. A  Dutch woman's too compact; nay, by the blood of the Mirabels, I'm yours-well, my
every thing among. them is so; a Dutch man is lads, ye look bravely, faith. —Bob, hast got any
thick, a Dutch woman is squab, a Dutch horse is money left'?
round, a Dutch dog is short, a Dutch ship is  VMir. Not a farthing, Sir.
broad-bottomed; and, in short, one would swear   Old Mlir. Why, then, I won't gi' thee a sous.
the whole product of the country were cast in the   Mir. I did but jest, here's ten pistoles.
same mould with their cheeses.                 Old Mir. Why, then here's ten more; I love
Dur. Ay, but, Mirabel, you have forgot the to be charitable to those that don't want it:English ladies.                             Well, and how d'ye like Italy, my boys!




SOENE:I.]                   THE INCONSTANT.                                        173
Mir. O the garden of the world, Sir; Rome,   Ori. Pr'ythee be quiet Bisarre; you know
Naples, Venice, Milan, and a thousand others — can be as mad as you when this Mirabel is out
all line.                                    of my head.
Old Mir. Ay, say you so? and they say, that   Bis. I warrant now, you'll play the fool when
Ghiari is very fine too.                     he comes, and say you love him; eh?
Dur. Indifferent, Sir, very indifferent; a very    Ori. Most certainly; —  can't dissemble, Biscurvy air; the, most unwholesome to a French  sarre:-besides,'tis past that, we're contracted.
constitution in the world.                     Bis. Contracted! alack-a-day, poor thing. What
MIinr. Pshaw, nothing on't; these rascally gazet- you have changed rings, or broken an old broadteers have misinformed you.                  piece between you! Well, I must confess, I do
Old Mir. Misinformed me! Oons, Sir, were love a little coquetting with all my heart! my
not we beaten there.?                        business should be to break gold with my lover
Mir. Beaten, Sir, the French beaten!      one hour, and crack my promise the next; he
Old Mir. Why, how was it, pray, sweet Sir? should find me one day with a prayer-book in my
Mir. Sir, the captain will tell you.       hand, and with a play-book another; he should
Dur. No, Sir, your son will tell you..     have my consent to buy the wedding-nng, and
Mir. The captain was in the action, Sir.   the next moment would laugh in his face.
Dur. Your son saw more than I, Sir, for he    Ori. 0 my dear, were there no greater tie upon
was a looker on.                             my heart than there is upon my conscience, I
Old Mir. Confound you both for a brace of would soon throw the contract out of doors; but
cowards: here are no Germans to overhear you; the mischief on't is, I am so fond of being tied
why don't ye tell me how it was?            that I'm forced to be just, and the strength of my
AMir. Why, then you must know, that we passion keeps down the inclination of my sex.
marched up a body of the finest, bravest, well- But here's the old gentleman.
dressed fellows in the universe; our commanders
at the head of us, all lace and feather, like so         Enter OLD MIRABEL.
many beaux at a ball-I don't believe there was a    Old Mir. Where's my wenches? where's my
man of'em but could dance a charmer, morbleau. two little girls, eh  have a care, look to your-'Old Mir. Dance! very well, pretty fellows, selves, faith, they're a coming, the travellers are
faith                                        a coming.  Well! which of you two will be
Mir. We capered up to their, very trenches, my daughter-in-law now? Bisarre, Bisarre, what
and there saw peeping over a parcel of scare- say you, mad-cap  Mirabel is a pure wild fellow.
crow, olive-coloured, gunpowder fellows, as ugly   Bis. I like him the worse.
as the devil.                                  Old Mir. You lie, hussy, you like him the
Dur.'Egad, I shall never forget the looks of better, indeed you do: what say you, my t'other
them while I have breath to fetch.           little Filbert, eh?
Mir. They were so civil indeed as to welcome    Ori. I suppose the gentleman will choose for
us with their cannon; but for the rest, we found himself, Sir.
them such unmannerly, rude, unsociable dogs, that   Old tAir. Why, that's discreetly said, and so
we grew tired of their company, and so we even he shall.
danced back again.
Oldanced  ir. And did ye all come back!  Enter MIRABEL and DURETETE, who salute the
MIir. No, two  or three thousandof us stayed                 Ladies.
behind.                                      Bob, harkye, you shall marry one of these girls,
Old Mir. Why Bob, why?                    Sirrah.
~Vir. Pshaw-because they could not come   Mir. Sir, I'll marry'em both, if you please.
that night.-But come, Sir, we were talking of   Bis. IHe'll find that one may serve his turn.
something else: pray how does your lovely charge,                                 [Aside.
the fair Oriana?                               Old Mir. Both! Why, you young dog, d'ys
Old Mir. Ripe, Sir, just ripe; you'll find it banter me? —Come, Sir, take your choice.better engaging with her than with the Germans, Duretete, you shall have your choice too; but
let me tell you. And what would you say, my Robinshall choose first. Come, Sir, begin.
young Mars, if I had a Venus fbr thee too? come,   Mir. Let me see.
Bob, your apartment is ready, and pray let your   Old Mir. Well! which d'ye like?
friend be my guest too; you shall command the   MIir. Both.
house between ye, and I'll be as merry as the best   Old Mir. But which will you marry?
of you.                            [Exeunt.   Mir. Neither.
Old Mir. Neither-Don't make me angry, now,
ACT II.                    Bob; pray don't make me angry.-Lookye, Sirrah,
if I don't dance at your wedding to-morrow, I
SCENE 1.-OLD MIRABEL'S House.          shall be very glad to cry at your grave.
MIir. That's a bull, father.
Enter ORIANA and BISARRE.
Old Mir. A bull! Why, how now, ungrateBis. And you love this young rake, d'ye?  ful Sir, did I make thee a man, that thou shouldet
Ori. Yes.                                 make me a beast?
Bus. In spite of all his ill usage?          Mir. Your pardon, Sir. I only meant your
Ori. I can't help it.                     expression.
Bis. What's the matter wi' ye?               Old Mir. Harkye, Bob, learn better manners
Ori. Pshaw!                              to your father before strangers: I wont be angry
Bis. C), hang all your Cassandras and Cle'-   this time.-But, oons, if ever you do't it again,
patras for me.-Pr'ythee mind your airs, modes, you rascal, remember what I say.   [Exit.
and fashions; your stays, gowns, and feathers.  Mir. Pshaw, what does the old fellow mear
15*




174                           THE INCONSTANT.                                       [ACTxL
by mewing me up- here with a couple of'green  Duretete?. Dost hear this. starched piece of ausgirls? Come, Duretete, will you go?   terity? Q 
Ori. I hope, Mr. Mirabel, you han't -forgot-    Dur. She's mine, man; she's mine: my own
Mir. No, no, Madam, I han't forgot; I have talent: to a T.  I'll- match her- in dialects, faith,
brought you a thousand little Italian curiosities; I was seven years at the university, man, nursed
i'll assure you, Madam, as far: as -a- hunidred  up with: Barbara, Celarunt, Darii, Ferio, B-aralip.
pistoles wouild reach, I- ha'n't forgot the-least cir- t6n. Did you ever:: know,- man, that'twas metacum-stance.  physics made me an ass?  It was, faith. IHad
Ori.'Sir, you misunderstand me.             she talked a word of singing, dancing, plays,
Mir. Odso, the relics, -Madam, from- Rome.: I fashions, or the like, I had foundered at the -first
do remember now- you made a vow of chastity be- step; but as she is-Mitabel, wish me joy.
fore my departure; a- vow  of chastity or something    Mir. You don't mean marriage, lI:hope?.
like it; was it not, Madam?  Dur. No,'no I am a man of more honour.
Ori. 0, Sir, ['m answered at present.' [Exit.:Mim. Bravely resolved, captain - now fo -thy
Mir. She was coming full mouth upon me credit, warm me this frozen snow.ball,'twill be a
with.: h er. contract — Would  I   might despatch  conquest above the: Alps. 
-t'other.: [ To DUR-   Dru. But will- you promise to be always near
Di- r:'. -Mirabel-that' lady there, observe- her, me::s-he -'s:wondrous pretty, faith, and seems -to have.Mir. Upon all occasions, never fear.
but few words; I like her mainly; speak to-;her,. Dur. Why then you shall see- me in two moman, pr'ythee speak to her.  [Apart to MIABEL. merits itake an induction: from  my: love to her
*Mir. Madam, here's a: gentleman, who de — hand, from her hand to;her mouth, fronm her
dlares --  -  mouth- to her heart, and so: conclude in- her bed
Dur. Madam, don't believe him, I declare no- categorematice.                          [Exit.
thing-What the devil do you mean, man?        M.ir.  Now  the game begins,: and: my fool is
Mfir. He says, Madam- that you are as beauti- entered.-But here comes one to spoil my sport*
ful as an angel.:                now shall I be teased to death with this oldDur. He tells a damned lie, Madam; I say no  fashioned contract.  I — should' love her - too, if 1
such thing:- are- you mad, Mirabel I  Why,:I might do it my own way; but she'll do:nothing
shall drop down with shame.                     without witnesses, forsooth. I wonder women can
Mir. And so, Madam, not doubting but your'be so immodest.
ladyship may like him as well as he does you, I
think it proper to leave you together.                          Enter ORIANA.
[ Going; DUR. holds him. Well, Madam, why d'ye ye follow me?
Dur. Hold, hold —Why, Mirabel, friend, sure   -Orni. Well, Sir, why do ye shun me?
you wont be so barbarous as to leave me alone?:   Mir.'Tis my humour, Madam, and I'm naPr'ythee- speak to  her for yourself, as it were. rturally swayed by inclination.
Lord, Lord, that a Frechman should want- impu-:   Ori. Have you -forgot- our contract, Sir 
dence!-                                            ir. All I remember of that contract is, that
Mir. You look mighty demure, Madam-She'sa it was made some three years ago, and that's
deaf, captain.                  [Apart to DUR. enough in conscience to forget the rest on't..
Dur. I had much rather have hhe adumb.       - Ori.'Tis sufficient, Sir, to recollect the pass.
[.. Apart. ]ing of it:; for in- that circumstance I presume lies
Mir. The gravity of your air-, Madearm, pro-'the force of the obligation.
mises some extraordinary fruits from your -study,: i r. Obligations, Madam- that are forced-upon
which moves us with curiosity to inquire the subjec t the will-' are no tie upon the conscience; I was a
of your ladyship's con'templation.'Not a word:! [slave to- my passion when I passed the instrument;
Dur. I hope' in the Lord she's speechless; if [but the recovery of my freedom makes the contract
she bee she's mine this mioment.   -iii'abel, d'ye void.
think a woman's silence can be natural   -  -  Ori.- Come, Mr. Mirabel, these expressions I
[A pa:rt. expected fromt the raillery of your humour, but
Bus. But the: forms that logicians. introduce, I, hope for very different sentiments from your
and which proceed from simple enumeration, are [honour:and generosity. 
dubitable, and proceed only upon admittance —    i: ri  Lookye, Madam, as for my generosity,'tis:
Mlir. -Hoity-toity! what a plague have we here q at your service, with all my heart: I'll keep- you a
Plato in petticoats:.:coach- and six horses, if you please, only permit
Dur. Ay, ay, let her go on, main; she: talkls in  me: to keep my honour to myself; for I can assure
my own mother tongue.                           you, Madam, that the thing called honour is a
Bis.'Tis exposed to invalidity from  a con- circumstance absolutely unnecessary in a natural
tradictory instance, looks only upon  common -correspondence between male and female; and
operations, and is infinite in its:termination.:he's a madmaan that- lays- it out, considering its
7/Iir. Rare pedantry.                        scarcity, upon any such trivial occasions. There's
Dur. Axioms! Axioms'! Self evident princi- honour required of us by our friends, and honour
ples.                                           due to our enemies, and they return it to us again;
Bis. Then the ideas wherewith the mind is but I never heard of a man that left but an inch
preoccupate.-O gentlemen, I hope you'll pardon  of his honour in a woman's keeping, that could
my cogitation; I was involved in a profound.point ever get the least account on't.-Consider, Madam.
of philosophy; but I shall discuss it somewhere you have no such thing -among ye, and'tis a
else, being satisfied that the subject is not agreea- main point of policy to keep no faith with reproWe to your sparks that profess the vanrity' of the bates-thou -art a -pretty little reprobate, and so
times.                                  [Exit. get' thee about thy business.
Mir. Go thy way, good wife Bias  do you hear    Ori. Well, Sir,:even all this I will allow tJ the




SCENE1.]                    THE INCONSTANT.                                          17b
gaiety of your temper; your travels have improved   Ori. 0 Sir, I shall match ye': a good husband
yaur talent of talking, but they are not of force, I makes a good wife at any time.
hope, to impair your morals.. I  ratteir. I'll rattle down                        t  your 
Mir. Morals! Why there'tis again now-. I ears. -.;'..
tell thee, child, there:is not the least' occasion for    Or. And I'll rattle about the city'to run you
morals in any business between you and; I-Don't in debt for more.-.. -.
you know, that of all commerce in the world            l here tear the lac  off:your -ciothes, and
is no such cozenage and deceit' as in the traffic when you: swoon for vexationl you shan't have a
betweenri man -and woman-? We: study all our penny:to'buy a bottle of hartshorn.
lives long how to- put tricks. upon: one another —    Ori. And you, Sir, shall have hartshorn in'
No-fowler lays abroad more: nets for his game, nor abundance. -' -::       -.
a hunter for his prey, than you. do to- catch poor   Mir. I'll keep as many mistresses as I have
innocent. men-Why- -do; you'sit. three or:fourb  coach-horses.;.
hours at your toilette in a:morning  only with a-   Ori. And I'll keep- as: many gallant's as you
villanous- design to make'. some poor fellow a: foot have grooms.-::.. -
before night. - What dye sigh for.? What d'ye    Mir.:' But, sweet:Madam, there is such a thing
weep for'' What d'ye pray for?'Why, for a as a divorce.
husband:.'That is,; you implore.Providence. to'Ori. But, sweet Sir, there is such a thing as:
assist you  in the just and pious design of making: alimony; so, divorce on, and spare not.- [Eit.
the wisest of his creatures a fool;,and the head''of    Mir. Ay, that separate: maintenance is the
the creation a- slave. -                      devil —that's their refuge-o'my conscience- -one
Ori. Sir, I am- proud of my power, and am re- would take cuckoldom for a meritorious" attion:
solved to: use it.                            because the women- are so handsomely rewarded
AMir. Hold, hold, Madam, not so fast-As you  for't.a - -  [Exit.
have variety of vaniities to:make coxcombs of us, i:. -....
so we have vows, oaths, -and protestations, of all i   Enter DURETETE and PETIT.
sorts and:sizes, to make fools of you.  And this,    Dur.- Andshe's-mighty peevish:, you say
in short, my dear creature, is our present condition'Pet.    0 Sir, she'has a tongue  as long as my
I have sworn and lied briskly to gain my ends of- leg, -and talks so, crabbedly, you would' think she
you; your ladyship' has patched and painted vio- always spoke Welsh.lently to gain your ends of me.-But since we are   Dur. That's an odd language methinks for
both disappointed, let us make a drawn battle, and her philosophy.
part clear on both sides.                       Pet. But sometimes she w{if sit you half a day
Ori. With all my'heart, Sir; give me up my without speaking a word, anld talk oracles al the
contract, and IPll never. see your face again.  while by the wrinkles of her forehead, and the
-Mir. Indeed 1 won't, child.                motions of her eyebrows.
Ori. What, Sir, neither do one nor t'other'   Dur. Nay, I shall match her in philosophical
Mlir. No; you shall die a: maid, inless you oglesi faith; that's my talent: I can talk best, you
please to be otherwise upon my terms.         Must know, when; I say nothing.
Orin. Sir, you're a —  -.- Pet. But d'ye ever laugh, Sir?'
Mir. What am 1, mistress?       -            Dur. Laugh: Won't she endu-re laughing?
Ori. A: villain, Sir'!'                   Pet. Why she s a -critic, Sir she hates a jest,
Mir.. i-'m glad on't-I: never- knew an honest for fear it should-please her; and nothin'g keeps
fellow in my life, but was a villain upon these oche in humour but what gives; her the spleen.;
rasions. —Ha'nt you drawn yourself now into: a: And then for logic, and: all that, you knowvery pretty dilemma? -Ha, ha, ha!:the- poorlady'Du. Ay, ay, I'm  prepared: I have been
-has made a vow of virginity,  when: she thought practising hard words, and no sense, this hour, to
of making a vow for the-contrary. Was ever:entertain her. 
poor woman-so cheated into chastity 2   Pet. Then place yourself behind this screen,
O Ori. Sir, my fortune- is equal -to yours my:that you may have a view of her behaviour before
friends as powerful, and both shall be put to the you begin.
test, to do me justice.''                 Dur. I long to engage her, lest I should forget
Mir.' What! you'll force me to marry y-ou,:will:my lesson.
ye     S                                        Pet. Here she comes, Sir, I must fly.
Ori. Sir, the law shall.                          [Exit PETIT; DU'RETETE stands: peeping
MI/r. But the law can't -force  me to:: do any      behind the curtain.
thing-else, can it?     - -                                           a -          
On.i. Pshaw, 1 despise thee -monster..-' Enter BISARRE, with a bobk, and MAID.
Mlir.. Kiss and be friends then-Don't cry,child,   Bis. Pshaw, hang books, they sour our temper,
and you shall have your sugar-plum —Come, Ma- spoil our-eyes, and ruin our complexions.
dam, d'ye: think I: could be so unreasonable as to'               [Throws away the book.
make'you fast. all your life long' No,. I did but  -Dur.. Eh! the devil such a word there is in all
jest, you shall have your liberty; here, take your Aristotle..
contract, and give me mine.                     Bis. Come, wench, let's be free, call in the
Ori. No, I won't.                           fiddler, there's nobody near us.
Mir. Eh! What, is the girl a fool?          Dur. Would to the Lord there was not.
Ori. No, Sir, you shall find me cunning enough    Bis. Here, friend, a minuet!-quicker time;
to do myself justice; and since I must not depend ha-would we had a man or two.
upon your love, I'll be revenged, and force you to    Dur. [Stealing away.1 You shall have the
marry me out of spite.                        devil sooner, my dear dancing philosopher!
Mlir. Then I'll beat-thee out of spite; and make  - Bis. Od's my life! —Here's one.:
a most confounded husband.  [Pulls him back,




176                        THE INCONSTANT.                                    [A IIm.
Dur. Is all my learned preparation come to   Bis. -Sir, your intention of waiting on me w9
this?                                       the greatest affront imaginable, howe'er your exBis. Come, Sir, don't be ashamed, that's my pressions may turn it to a compliment; your visit,
good boy-you're very welcome, we wanted such Sir, was intended as a prologue to a very scurvy
a one-Come, strike up. I know you dance well, play, of which Mr. Mirabel and you so handsomely
Sir, you're finely shaped for't-Come, come, Sir; laid the plot. —" Marry! No, no, I'm  a man of
quick, quick, you miss the time else.        more honour." Where's your honour 2 Where's
Dur. But, Madam, I came to talk with you.   your courage now? Ads my life, Sir, I have a
Bis. Ay, ay, talk as you dance, talk as you great mind to kick you.-Go, go to your fellowdance, come.                                 rake now, rail at my sex, and get drunk for vexaDur. But we were talking of dialectics.    tion, and write a lampoon-But I must have you
Bis. Hang dialectics-Mind the time —quick- to know, Sir, that my reputation is above the
er, sirrah. [To the fiddler.] Come-and how  scandal of a libel, my virtue is sufficiently approvd'ye find yourself now, Sir 2                ed to those whose opinion is my interest: and, for
Dur. In a fine breathing sweat, doctor.   the rest, let them talk what they will; for when
Bis. All the better, patient, all the better- I please, I'll be what I please, in spite of you and
Come, Sir, sing now, sing; I know you sing well; all mankind; and so, my dear man of honour. if
I see you have a singing face, a heavy, dull, you be tired, con over this lesson, and sit there
sonata face.                                 till I come to you.               [Runs of.
Dur. Who, I sing                            Dur. Tum ti dum. [Sings.] Ha, ha, ha! -
Bis. 0, you're modest, Sir-but come, sit "Ads my life, I have a great mind to kick you!"
down; closer, closer.-Here, a bottle of wine-  -Oons and confusion! [Starts up.] Was evet
Come, Sir, fa, la, la; sing, Sir.           man so abused 2 —Ay, Mirabel set me on.
Dur. But, Madam, I came to talk with you.
Bis. 0 Sir, you shall drink first. Come, fill            Re-enter PETIT.
me a bumper-here, Sir, bless the king.         Pet. Well, Sir, how d'ye find yourself?
Dur. Would I were out of his dominions! By   Dur. You son of a nine-eyed whore, d'ye come
this light, she'll make me drunk too.    [Aside. to abuse me?  I'll kick you with a vengeance,
Bis. 0 pardon me, Sir, you shall do me right; you dog.
fill it higher.-Now, Sir, can you drink a health      [PETIT runs off, and DuR. after him.
under your leg 2
Dur. Rare philosophy that, faith.                           ACT 111.
Bis. Come, off with it to the bottom.-Now,
how d'ye like me, Sir?                                SCENE L-The same.
Dur. 0, mighty well, Madam!                     Enter OLD MIRABEL and MIRAEL.
Bis. You see how a woman's fancy varies;
sometimes splenetic and heavy, then gay. and    Old MAir. Bob, come hither, Bob.
frolicsome.-And how d'ye like the humour?     MIir. Your pleasure, Sir?
Dur. Good Madam, let me sit down to answer   Old Mir. Are not you a great rogue, sirrah?
you, for I am heartily tired.                  Mir. That's a little out of my comprehension,
Bis. Fie upon't; a young man, and tired! up, Sir; for I've heard say that I resemble my father.
for shame, and walk about; action becomes us-a    Old Mir. Your father is your very humble
little faster, Sir-What d'ye think now of my slave-I tell thee what, child, thou art a very
lady La Pale, and lady Coquet, the duke's fair: pretty fellow, and I love thee heartily; and a very
daughter 2  Ha! Are they not brisk lasses? great villain, and I hate thee mortally.
Then there is black Mrs. Bellair, and brown    Mir. Villain, Sir! Then I must be a very imptMrs. Bellface.                               dent one, for I can't recollect any passage of my
Dur. They are all strangers to me, Madam.   life that I'm ashamed of.
Bis. But let me tell you, Sir, that brown is not   Old Mir. Come hither, my dear friend; dost
always despicable.                          see this picture 2    [Shows him a little picture.
Dur. Upon my soul, I don't-                 Mir. Oriana's! Pshaw!
Bis. And then you must have heard of the    Old l1ir. What Sir, won't you look upon't 
English beau, Spleenamore, how unlike a gentle- -Bob, dear Bob, pr'ythee come hither now —
man-                                        Dost want any money, child?
Dur. Hey-not a syllable on't, as I hope to be   Mir. No, Sir.
saved, Madam.                                  Old Mir. Why then here's some for thee;
Bis. No! why then play me a jig. Come, Sir. come here now-  How canst thou be so hardDur. By this light, I cannot; faith, Madam, I hearted, an unnatural, unmannerly rascal (don't
have sprained my leg.                       mistake me, child, I an't angry,) as to abuse this
Bis. Then sit you down, Sir: and now tell me tender, lovely, good-natured, dear rogue?what's your business with me  What's your Why, she sighs for thee, and cries for thee, pouts
errand?  Quick, quick, despatch-Odso, may for thee, and snubs for thee; the poor little heart
be you are some gentleman's servant, that has of it is like to burst- Come, my dear boyv, be
brought me a letter, or a haunch of venison.  good-natured like your own father, be now-and
Dur.'Sdeath! Madam, do I look like acarrier? then see here, read this -the effigies of the
Bis. 0, cry you mercy; I saw you just now, lovely Oriana, with ten thousand pounds to her
I mistook you, upon my word: you are one of the portion-ten thousand pounds, you dog; ten
t*ravelling gentlemen-and pray, Sir, how do all thousand pounds, you rogue. How  dare you
all our impudent friends in Italy 2          refuse a lady with ten thousand pounds, you imn
Dur. Madam, I came to wait on you with a pudent rascal?
more serious intention, than your entertainment  lMir. Will you hear me speak, Si0?
has answered.                                  Old MlIir. Hear you speak, Sir! If you had ten




SCoNE I.)                   THE INCONSTANT.                                         177
thousand tongues, you could not out-talk ten                Enter BISARRE.
thousand pounds, Sir.
Bis. That dare I, Sir-I say that your son is a
Mir. Nay, Sir, if you won't hear me, I'll be
A'   I  1f y   won't  1.r m   wild, foppish, whimsical, impertinent coxcomb;
gone, Sir! I'll take post for Italy this moment.   and were I abused as this gentleman's sister is, I
Olefellow knows I wont part and were I abused as this gentleman's sister is, I
vOld Mir. A * h!7 t~e  fw the os g- wont.p  Swould make itan Italian quarrel, and poison the
with him. [Aside.] Well, Sir, what have you to whole family.
say                                          whole fam
Iir. The universal reception, Sir, that mar-   Dug. Come, Sir,'tis no time for trifling; my
sister is abused, you are made sensible of the
riage has had in the world, is enough to fix it for   a         ouhe
a  c g' a   t d     e   affront, and your honour is concerned to see her
a public good, and to draw every body into the redressed.
common cause; but there are some constitutions
like some instruments, so peculiarly singular, that   Old Mir. Lookye  Mr. 
they make terrible music by themselves, but never go farthest. I will do your sister justice, but it
do well in a concert.                        must be after my own rate; nobody must abuse
Old VMir. Why tis is reason, I must confess; my son but myself. For although Robin be a sad
Old Mir. Why this is reason, I must confess; I   M  
but yet it is nonsense too: for though you should  dog yet he's nobody's puppy but my own.
B/s. A  y, that's my sweet-natured, kind old
reason like an angel, if you argue yourself out of gentlemany, Wheedling him.   Ve will be good
a good estate, you talk like a fool.         gentleman-[ Wheedling him.] We will be good
a good estate, you talk like a fool.,r. Bbribe into bondage with then, if you'll join with us in the plot.
Mir. But, Sir, if you bribe into bondage with
Mr~. But, Sir, if youOld lMir. Ah, you coaxing young baggage
the riches of Croesus, you leave me but a beggar   O i h  y o c X
the riches of Cesus, you leave m  but a beggar what plot can you have to wheedle a fellow of
for want of my liberty..
Old Mir. Was ever such a perverse fool heard? xty-three'Sdeath, Sir, why did I give you education? was   Bis. A plot that sixty-three is only good for, to
it to dispute me out of my senses!  Of what bring other people together, Sir: a Spanish Plot,
it to dispute me out of my senses. Of what
colour now is the head of this cane   You'll saless dangerous than that of eighty-eight; and you
-    n    i t  h    o t      1 You'll say must act the Spaniard,'cause your son will least'tis white, and ten to one make me believe it tooI thought that young fellows studied to get money.    pect you; and if he should, your authority
hav  studied'todespise i  my* * protects you from a quarrel, to which Oriana is
Mir. No, Sir, I have studied to despise it; my unwilling to expose her brother.
Mir. No, Sir,,unwilling to expose her brother.
reading was not to make me rich, but happy, Sir.   Old Mir. And what part will you act in the
Old Mir. There he has me again now. [Aside.] business, Madam?
But, Sir, did not I marry to oblige you?.          Sir. My friend is grown a per
Mir. To oblige me, Sir! In what respect, pray   Bet. Myscelf, Sr. Myi friend is grown a perOld Mir. Why, to bring you into the world, fect changeling: these foolish hearts of ours spoil
Sir;d r. wa'n't tWhat an obligation?    ko th  our heads presently; the fellows no sooner turn
Mir. And because I would have it still an knaves, but we turn fools.  But I am still myself;.bligation, I avoid marriage,               and he may expect the most severe usage from
3bligation, I avoid marriage..,., 
Old Mihr. IH-ow is that, Sir? zme,'cause I neither love him nor hate him. [Exit.
tIir. Because I would not curse the hour I was *Old Mir. Well said, Mrs. Paradox; but, Sir,
born.                                        who must open the matter to him t
Old Mir. Lookye, friend, you may persuade    Dug. Petit, Sir, who is our engineer-general.
Old Mir. Lookye, friend, you may persuadeAnd here he comes
me out of my designs, but I'll command you out
if yours; and though you may convince my rea-                Enter PETIT.
son that you are in the right, yet there is an old   Pet. 0, Sir, more discoveries! are all friends
attendant of sixty-three, called positiveness, which  about us?
you, nor all the wits in Italy, shall ever be able to    Dug. Ay, ay, speak freely.
shake: so, Sir, you're a wit, and I'm a father: you   Pet. You must know, Sir- Od's my life,
may talk, but I'll be obeyed.                I'm out of breath; you must know, Sir-you
MIir. This it is to have the son a finer gentleman must knowthan the father; they first give us breeding that   Old Mir. What the devil must we know, Sir 1
they don't understand, then they turn us out of   Pet. That I have [Pants and blows.] bribed,
doors'cause we are wiser than themselves. But Sir, bribed-your son's secretary of state.
I'm a little aforehand with the old gentleman.   Old Mir. Secretary of state!-who's that, for
[Aside.] Sir, you have been pleased to settle a heaven's sake?
thousand pounds sterling a year upon me; in    Pet. His va!et-de-chambre, Sir! you must know,
return of which, I have a very great honour for Sir, that the intrigue lay folded up with his masyou and your family, and shall take care that ter's clothes; and when he went to dust the emyour only and beloved son shall do nothing to broidered suit, the secret flew out of the right
make him hate his father, or to hang himself. pocket of his coat, in a whole swarm of your
So, dear Sir, I'm your very humble servant.  crambo songs, short-footed odes, and long-legged
[Runs of'.Pindarics.
Old Mir. Here, sirrah, rogue, Bob, villain!  Old Mir. Impossible!
Enter DUGARD.                   Pet. Ah, Sir, he has loved her all along; there
was Oriana in every line, but he hates marriage.
Dutg. Ah, Sir, his but what he deserves.   Now, Sir, this plot will stir up his jealousy, and
Old Mir.'Tis false, Sir, he don't deserve it; we shall know by the strength of that how to
what have you to say against my boy, Sir?    proceed farther.-Come, Sir, let's about it with
Dug. I shall only repeat your own words.   speed.                             [Eeunt.
I speed.                             [Exeunt.
Old Mir. What have you to do with my
words?  1 have swallowed my words already, I Enter MIRABEL and BISARRE, passing carelessly
have eaten them up, and how can you come at                 by one another.'em, Sir?-I say that Bob's an honest fellow, and   Bis. I wonder what she can see in this fellow
who dares deny it?                          to like him!                          [Aside.
VOL. I... Z




178                          THE INCONSTANT.                                      [ACT IIT.
Mir. I wonder what my friend c(an see in this    MIir. Now she rants —
girl to admire her  [Aside.   "Que  quibus anteferam?  Jam  jam  nec
Bis. A wild, foppish, extravagant rake.   ~           maxima Juno."
[Aside.   Bis. A  man! No, the woman's birth was
Mir. A light, whimsical, impertinent madcap.  spirited away.
[Aside.   Mir. Right, right, Madam: the very words.
Bis. Whom do you mean, Sir?                   Bis. And some pernicious elf left in the cradle,
AMir. Whom do you mean, Madam?               with human shape, to palliate growing mischief.
Bis. A fellow that has nothing left: to re-esta-  [Speak together, and raise their voices by
blish him for a human creature, but a prudent           degrees.
resolution to hang-himself.                       Mir. "Perfde, sed duris genuit te cautibus
SAIir. There is a way, Madam, to force. me to       horrens
that resolution.                               Caucasus, Hyrcaneque admorunt Ubera TiBis. I'll do it with all my heart.                    gres.".lMir. Then you must marry me.                  Bis. Go, Sir, fly to your midnight revelsBis. Lookye, Sir, don't think your ill manners  Mir. Excellent!
o me shall excuse your ill usage of my friend, nor    "I sequere Italiam  ventis, pete regna per
oy fixing a quarrel here, to divert my zeal for the     undas,
absent: for I'm resolved, nay, I:come prepared, to:    pero eqidem  mediis, si quid pia Numina
make you a panegyric that shall mortify your            possunt."            [Together again.
pride like any modern dedication.                Bis. Now the devil take his impudence! he
Mir. And 1, Madam, like a true modern patron, vexes me so, I don't know whether to cry or laugh
shall hardly give you thanks for your trouble.,    at him.                            [Aside.
Bis. Come, Sir, to let you see what little founda-   Mit. Bravely performed, my dear Libyan. I'll
tion you have for your dear sufficiency, I'll:take  write the tragedy-of Dido, and you'shall act the
you to pieces.                                 part: but you do nothing at all, unless you fret.
_Mir. And what piece will you choose?.      yourself into a fit, for here the poor lady is stifled
Bis. Your heart, to be sure;'cause I should  with vapours, drops into the arms of her maids;
get presently rid on't; your courage I would give  and the cruel, barbarous, deceitful wanderer is in
to a Hector, your wit to a play-maker, your the very next line called pious _Eneas.-There's
honour to an attorney, your body to the physicians, authority for ye.
and your soul to its Master.                         Sorry indeed.Xneas stood
Mair. I had the oddest dream last night of the      To see her in a pout;
duchess of Burgundy; methought the furbelows         But Jove hisef, who ne'er thought  od
of her gown were pinned up so high behind, that        To stay a second bout,
I could not see her head for her tail.               Commands him off with all his crew,
Bis. The creature don't mind me! [Aside.]            And leaves poor Dy, as 1 leave you.
Do you think, Sir, that your humourous imperti-                                    [Runs off.
nence can divert me? No, Sir, I'm above any    Bis. Go thy ways, for a dear, mad, deceitful,
pleasure that you can give, but that of seeing you  agreeable fellow. Omy conscience, I must excuse
miserable. And mark me, Sir, my friend, my Oriana.
injured friend, shall yet be doubly happy, and you
shall be a husband as much as the rites of marriage,  That lover soon his angryfair disarms.
and the breach of them, can make you.'     Whose slighting pleases, and whose faults are
[MIRABEL pulls out a Virgil, and. reads             charms.
to himself.                           Re-enter PETIT, who runs about to every door,.Mir. " At regina dolos, (quis fallere possit                 and knocks.
amantem?)                          Pet. Mr. Mirabel! Sir, where are you? noDissimulare etiam sperasti, per.fide tantum,"'  where to be found q
Very true,
"rPosse nef s."Re-enter MIRABEL.
~  Posse nefas."
By your favour, friend Virgil,'twas but a ras-   Mir. What's the matter, Petit?
cally trick of your hero to forsake poor Pug so    Pet. Most critically met-Ah, Sir, that one
inhumanly.                                     who has followed the game so long, and brought
Bis. I don't know what to say to him. [Aside.] the poor hare just under his paws, should let a
The devil-what's Virgil to us,' Sir 2          mongrel cur chop in, and run away:with the puss.
Mir. Very much, Madam; the most a-propos    Mir. If your worship can get out of your allein the world —for what should I chop upon but gories, be pleased to tell me in three words what
the very place where the perjured rogue of a lover you mean!
and the forsaken lady are battling it tooth and    Pet. Plain, plain, Sir.  Your mistress and
nail. Come, Madam, spend your spirits no longer; mine is going to be married.
we'll take an easier method; I'll be JEneas now,   MTir. I believe you lie, Sir.
and you shall be Dido, and we'll rail by book.   Pet. Your humble servant, Sir.       [Going.
Now for you, Madam Dido.                         Alir. Come hither, Petit. Married, say you 2
"Nec te noster amor, nec te data dextera    Pet. No, Sir,'tis no matter; I onlyvthought to
quondam,                              do you a service, but 1 shall take care how [ confer
Nec moritura tenet crudelifunere Dido."      my favours for the future.
Ah, poor Dido!                  [Looks at her.   1/Iir. Sir, I beg ten thousand pardons.
Bis. Rudeness, affronts,- impatience! I could                                   [Bows low.
almost start out even to manhood, and -want but a    Pet.'Tis enough, Sir-I come to tell you, Sir,
weapon as long as his to fight him upon the spot. that Oriana is this moment to be sacrificed;
What shall I say?                     [Aside. married past redemption.




SCENE I.]                   THE INCONSTANT.:179
Mir. I understand her; she'll take a husband I find in my heart to pay thee. [Aside.] Is, the
out of'spite to me, and then out of love to me she fellow mad. Why sure, Sir, I ha'n't frightened
will make -him i cuckold. But who is the happy you out of-your senses,i.
man?                                          Old Mir. But you have, Sir.
Pet. A lord, Sir.                            Mir. Then I'll beat them into you again.
Mir. I'm her ladyship's most humble servant;                        [Offers to strikehint.
a train and a title; h4y! Room for my- lady's   Old.Mir. Why, rogue-Bob, dear Bob, don't
coach l a front row in the box for her ladyshipt you know me, child? 
Lights, lights, for her honour!-Now must I be  wMir. 1Ha, ha, ha! the fellow's downright disa constant attender at my -lord'slevee to work my  tracted! Thou miracle of impudence!  wouldst
way to my lady's couchee —a countess, 1 presume, thou make-me believe that such a grave gentle-'Sir.'man as my father would go a masquerading thus?
Pet. A Spanish count - Sir, that Mr. Dugard  That aperson of threescore and three would run
knew abroad, is come to Paris, saw your mistress about. in a fool's coat to disgrace himself and
yesterday, marries her to:day, and whips her into family? Why, you impudent villain, do you think
Spain to-morrow.                             I will' suffer such an affront to pass upon -my
Mir.  Ay,'is'it so'? and must: Ifollow my cuckold  honoured father, my  worthy father, my deal
over the Pyrennees1?  Had she married within  father?'Sdeath, Sir, mention my father but once
the precincts of a billet-doux, I would be the man again, and I'll send your soul' t thy grandfathei
to lead her to church; but, as it happens, I'll forbid this minute'!   [ Offers to stab him.
the banns. Where is this mighty don?           Old Mir. Well, well, I am not your father.
Pet. Have a care, Sir; he's a rough, cross-  lMir. Why then, Sir, you are the saucy, hectorgrainedpiece, and there's no tampering with himr. ing Spaniard, and I'll use you accordingly.
Would you apply to Mr. Dugard, or the lady    Old Mir. The devil-take the Spaniards, Sir:
herself, something might be done; for it is in we have all got nothing but blows since we began
despite to you that the' business is carried so to take their part.
hastily. Odso, Sir, here he comes. I must be Re-enter DUGARD, ORIANA, and: PETiT;:  ith
gone;.:-.. - [E1xit.    MAID. DUGARD runs to MIRABEIL, the rest to
Re-enter OLD MIRABEL, dressed in' a Spanish    OLD MIRABEL.
habit, leading ORIANA.'
Dag. Fie, fie, Mirabel, murder your father.!
Ori. Good, my lord, a nobler choice had better   Mir. My father! What, is the whole family
suited your lordship's merit. My person, rank, mad? Give me way, Sir: I won't be held.
and circumstance expose me as the public theme    Old Mir. No, nor I either; let me be gone,
of raillery, and subject me so to injurious usage, pray.
my lord. that I can lay no claim to any part of   Mir. My father'!           [Qfers to go.
your regard, except your pity.                  Old Mir. Ay, you dog's face! I am your faOld Mir. Breathes he vital air, that dares pre- ther; for I have bore as much for: thee as your
sume                                   mother ever did.
With rude behaviour to profane such excellence?   -Mir. 0 ho! then this was a trick it' seems, a
Show me the man-                             design, a contrivance, a stratagem-Oh! how my
And you shall- see how my sudden revenge     bones ache!
Shall fall upon the head of such presumption.  Old Mtir. Your bones, sirrah; why yours?
Is this thing one I  [Strutting up to MIRABEL.   Mir. Why, Sir, ha'n't I been beating my own
_Mir. Sir!                                flesh and blood all this while. - 0, Madam.'[To
Ori. Good, my lord.                        ORIANA.] I wish your ladyship joy of your new
Old lIIir. If he, or any he-               dignity. Here was a contrivance indeed. 
Ori. Pray, my lord, the gentleman's a stranger.   Pet. The contrivance was well enough, Sir;
Old Mir. O, your pardon, Sir-but. if you for they imposed upon us all.
had-remember, Sir-the lady now is mine, her   Mir. Well, my dear Dulcinea, did your Don
injuries are mine; therefore, Sir, you understand  Quixote battle for you bravely7? My father will
me -  Come,  Madam.                          answer for the force of my love..
[Leads ORIANA to the door; she goes of.   Ori. Pray, Sir, don't insult the misfortunes of
MIRABEL runs to his father, and pulls your own creating.. i
him by the sleeve.                     Dug. My prudence will be counted cowardice,
Mir. Ecoutez, Monsieur le Count.          if I stand tamely-now. [Aside;. Comes: up between
Old Mir. Your business, Sir?               MIRABEL and his sister.] Well, Sir! 
2Mir. Boh!                                   Mir. Well, Sir! Do you take me for one of:
Old M'ir. Boh! What language is that, Sir?   your tenants, Sir, that you put on your landlord
AIlir. Spanish, my lord.                   face at me!,Old Mir. What d'ye mean?                   Dug. On what presumption, Sir, dare you asMir. This, Sir.        [Trips up his heels. sume thus  r[Draws.
Old MiM. A  very concise quarrel, truly      Old Mir. What's that to you, Sir? [Draws.
I'll bully him. [Aside.] Trinidade Seigneur- give   Pet. Help! help! the lady faints.
me fair play.                 [Offers to rise.   Mir. Vapours! vapours! she'll come to herself.
Mir. By all means, Sir. [Takes away his If it be an angry fit, a dram of assafmotida-If
sword.] Now, Seigneur, where's that bombast jealousy, hartshorn in water-If the mother, burnt
look and fustian face your countship wore just feathers-If grief, ratifia-If it be strait stays or
now?'         [Strikes him. corns, there's nothing like a dram of plain.brandy.
Old Mir. But hold, sirrah, no more jesting;                                     rFxit.
I'm your father, Sir, your father!             Ori. Hold off; give me air —O, my brother,Mir. My father! Then by this light I could would you preserve my life, endanger sAot..youlz




180                         THE INCONSTANT.                                    [ACT IV.
own; would you defend my reputation, leave it to    Old Mir. Let me alone to ferret him out; I'l
itself.'Tis a dear vindication that's purchased sacrifice the abbot, if he receives him; I'll try
by the sword; for though our champion proves whether the spiritual or the natural father has the
victorious, yet our honour is wounded.       most right to the child. -But, dear captain,
Old:Mir. Ay, and your lover may be wounded, what has he done with his estate?
that's another thing. But I think you are pretty    Dur. Settled it upon the church, Sir.
brisk again, my child.                          Old Mlir. The church! Nay, then the devil
Ori. Ay, Sir, my indisposition was only a pre- won't get him out of their clutches-Ten thoutence to divert the quarrel; the capricious taste of sand livres a year upon the church!'Tis downyour sex excuses this artifice in ours:      right sacrilege-Come, gentleman, all hands to
For often, when our chief perfections fail,  work; for half that sum, one of these monasteries
Our chief defects with foolish men prevail.  shall protect you a traitor from the law, a rebellious
[Exit. wife from her husband, and a disobedient son
Pet. Come Mr. Dugard, take courage; there from his own father.                   [Exit.
Dug. But will you persuade me that he's gone
Old Mir. Sir, I'll have no plot that has any to a monastery 
relation to Spain.                             Dur. Is your sister gone to the Filles RepenDUug. I scorn all artifice whatsoever; my sword ties?  1 tell you, Sir, she's not fit for the society
shall do her justice.                       of repenting maids.
Pet. Pretty justice, truly! Suppose you run    Dug. Why so, Sir?
him through the body; you run her through the   Dur. Because she's neither one nor t'other;
heart at the same time.                      she's too old to be a maid, and too young to
Old lMir. And me through the head-rot your repent.                            [Exeuntt
sword, Sir; we'll have plots; come, Petit, let's  SCENVE II.-The Inside of a Monastery.
hear.
Pet. What if she pretended to go into a nun-  ORIANA discovered in a Nun's habit, with
nery, and so bring him about to declare himself?              BISARRE.
Dug. That I must confess has a face.         Ori. I hope, Bisarre. there is no harm in jestOld Mir. A face! A face like an angel, Sir. ing with this religious habit 
Ads my life, Sir,'Tis  the most beautiful plot   Bis. To me, the greatest jest in the habit is
in Christendom. We'll about it immediately.   taking it in earnest: I don't understand this im[Exeunt. prisoning people with the keys of paradise, nor
ACT IV.                     the merit of that virtue which comes by constraint.
But I must be gone upon my affairs; I have
SCENE I.-OLD MIRABEL'S House.           brought my captain about again.
Enter OLD MIRABEL and DUGARD.            Ori. But why will you trouble yourself with
that coxcomb 3
PDug. The lady abbess is my relation, and privy    Bis. Because he is a coxcomb; had I not better.o the plot.                                 have a lover like him, that I can make an ass of
Old Mlir. Ay, ay, this nunnery will bring him  than a lover like yours, to make a fool of me.
about, I warrant ye.                         [Knocking below.] A message from Mirabel, I'll
Enter DURETETE.                lay my life. [She runs to the door.] Come hither,
Dur. Here, where are ye all?-O! Mr. Mira- run; thou charming nun, come hither.
bel, you have done fine things for your posterity-    Ori. What's the news?
And you, Mr. Dugard, may come to answer   Bis. Don'tyousee who's below 
this-I come to demand my friend at your hands    Ori. I see nobody but a friar.
restore him, Sir, or-                          Bis. Ah! thou poor blind Cupid! O'my con[To OLD MIRABEL. science, these hearts of ours spoil our heads inOld M-Amil. Restore him!  What, d'ye think I stantly! the fellows no sooner turn knaves than
have got him in my trunk, or my pocket 1     we turn fools. A friar! don't you see a villanous
Dur. Sir, he's mad, and you're the cause on't. genteel mien under that cloak of hypocrisy 3
Old Mir. That maybe; for I was as mad as he    Ori. As I live, Mirabel turned friar! I hope in
when I begot him.                            heaven, he's not in earnest.
Dug. Mgad, Sir! what d'ye mean 3             Bis In earnest: ha, ha, ha! are you in earDur. What do you mean, Sir, by shutting up nest 2  Now's your time; this disguise he has
your sister yonder to talk like a parrot through a certainly taken for a passport, to get in and try
cage 2 or a decoy duck, to draw others into the your resolutions; stick to your habit, to be sure;
snare! Your son, Sir, because she has deserted treat him with disdain, rather than anger: for
him, has forsaken the world; and in three words, pride becomes us more than passion; remember
has-                      [ To OLD MIRABEL. what I say, if you would yield to advantage, and
hOld Mir. Hanged himself!                  hold out the attack; to draw him on, keep him
Dur. The very same-turned friar.           off, to be sure.
Old -Mir. You lie, Sir;'tis ten times worse.   The cunning gamesters never gain too fast,
Bob turned friar!-Why should the fellow shave   But lose at first, to win the more at last.    [Exit.
his foolish crown, when the same razor may cut
his throat?                                        Ente MIRABEL in a Friar's  habit.
Dur. If you have any command, or you any   Mir. Save you, sister-Your brother, young
interest over him, lose not a minute; he has thrown lady, having a regard for vour soul's health, hath
himself into the next monastery, and has ordered sent me to prepare you for the sacred habit by
me to pay off his servants, and discharge his confession.
equipage.                                      Ori. That's false; the cloven foot already.




ERIO NIII.                 THE  I N CO N S TAN T.                                 181
[Aside.] My brother's care I own; and to you, served a turn for us both, and they shall e'en go
sacred Sir, I confess, that the great crying sin off together.
which I have long indulged, and now prepare to             [Exit, throwing away the habit.
expiate, was love.
Mir. She's downright stark mad in earnest;     SCENE III-OLD MIRABEL'S House.
death and confusion, I have lost her! [Aside.]
You confess your fault, Madam, in such moving       Enter DURETETE, with a letter.
terms, that I could almost be in love with the sin.   Dur. [Reads.] My rudenesswas only a proof q
Orz. Take care, Sir; crim    es,      are  your  humour, which I havefound so agreeabe,
that I own myself penitent, aud willing to make any
their own rewards; my chief delight became my that I own myself enitent ad unng to
only grief; he in whose breast I thought my heart reparaton upon yourfirst appearance to
secure, turned robber, and despoiled the treasure Mirabel swears she loves me, and this confirm
that he kept.                               it; then farewell gallantry, and welcome revenge;
Mir. Perhaps that treasure he esteems so'tis my turn now to be upon the sublime; I'll take
much, that, like the miser, though afraid to use it, her off, I warrant her.
he reserves it safe.
Ori. No, holy father: who can be miser in                Enter BISARRE.
another's wealth, that's prodigal of his own? His Well, mistress, do you love me.
heart was open, shared to all he knew; and what,   Bis. I hope, Sir, you will pardon the modesty
alas! must then become of mine? but the same ofeyes that drew this passion in, shall send it out in    Dur. Of what 2 of a dancing devil?-Do you
tears, to which now hear my vow-             love me, I say.
Mir. [Discovering himself.] No, my fair angel,   Bis. Perhaps Ibut let me repent: here on my knees, behold the   Dur. What?
criminal that vows repentance his.-Ha! no con-   Bis. Perhaps, I do not.
cern upon her?                                Dur. Ha! abused again! Death, woman, I'11Bis. Hold, hold, Sir; I do, I do!
-   Enter OLD MIRABEL.             Dur. Confirm it then by your obedience; stand
Old Mir. Where, where's this counterfeit nun? there, and ogle me now, as if your heart, blood,
Ori. Madness! confusion! I'm ruined!     and soul, were like to fly out at your eyes-First,
Mir. What do I hear?   [Puts on his hood.] the direct surprise. [She looks full upon him.]
What did you say, Sir 1                      Right; next the deux yeux par oblique. [She
Old Mir. I say she's a counterfeit, and you gives him the side glance.] Right; now depart
may be another, for aught I know, Sir; I have and languish. [,She turns from. him  and looks
lost my child by these tricks, Sir.          over her shoulder.] Very well; now sigh. [She
Mir. What tricks, Sir?                     sighs.] Now drop your fan on purpose. [She
Old.Mir. By a pretended trick, Sir. A con- drops her fan.] Now take it up again: Come
trivance to bring my son to reason, and it has now, confess your faults; are you not a proud —
made him  stark mad; I have lost him and a say after me.
thousand pounds a year.                        Bis. Proud.
Mir. [Discovering himself.] My dear father,   Dur. Impertinent.
I'm your most humble servant.                  Bis. Impertinent.
Old Mir. My dear boy, welcome ex inferis,   Dur. Ridiculous.
my dear boy;'tis all a trick, she's no more a nun    Bis. Ridiculous.
than I am.                                     Dur. Flirt.
Mir. No!                                    Bis. Puppy.
Old Mir. The devil a bit.                   Dur. Zoons! woman, don't provoke me; we
PMir. Then thank ye, my dear dad, for the are alone, and vou don't know but the devil may
most happy news-And now, most venerable holy tempt me to do you a mischief; ask my pardon
sister                             [Kneels. immediately.
Bis. I do, Sir; I only mistook the word.
Your mercy and your pardon I maplore,      Dur. Cry then: have you got e'er a handkerFor the offence of asking it before.     chief?
Bis. Yes, Sir.
Lookye, my dear counterfeiting nun, take my    Dur. Cry, then, handsomely; cry like a queen
advice, be a nun in good earnest; women make in a tragedy.
the best nuns always when they can't do other-   [She pretends to cry, bursts out a laughing.
wise.
Ori. 0! Sir, how, unhappily have you de-           Enter six LADIES, laughing.
stroyed what was so near perfection! He is the    Bis. Ha, ha, ha!
counterfeit that has deceived you.             Ladies. Ha, ha, ha!
Old Mir. Ha! Lookye, Sir, I recant, she is a   Dur. Hell broke loose upon me, and all the
nun.                                         furies fluttered about my ears! Betrayed again!
M-~ ir. Sir, your humble servant, then I'm a friar   Bis. That you are, upon my word, my dear
this moment.                                 captain; ha, ha, ha!
Old Mir. Was ever an old fool so bantered by   Dur. The Lord deliver me!
a brace o' young ones; hang you both, you're   1 Lady. What! is this the mighty man with
both counterfeits, and my plot's spoiled,'that's all. the bullface, that comes to frighten ladies 2
Ori. Shame and confusion, love, anger, and   Bis. A man! It's some great dairy-imaid in
disappointment, will work my brain to madness.  man's clothes.
[Exit.   Dur. Lookye, dear Christian women, pray hear
Mir. Ay, ay, throw by the rags, they have n me.
16




182                          THE INCONSTANT.                                     [ACTr V.
- Bis. Will you ever attempt a lady's honour    Old M1/ir. Ay, poorchild, poor child, d'ye know
again?                                        me.
Dur. If you please to let me get away with my    Ori. You! you are Amadis de Gaul, Sir;honour, I'll do any thing in the world.        Oh! oh my heart! Were you never in love, fair
Bis. Will you persuade your friend to marry lady?  And do you never dream of flowers and
mine?                                        gardens?-I dream  of walking fires, and tall
Dur. 0 yes, to be sure.                     gigantic sights.  Take heed, it comes nowBuis. And will you do the same by me'?     What's that?  Pray stand away: I have seen
Dur. Burn me if I do, if the coast be clear.    that face sure-How light my head is!
[Exit.   MlIir. What piercing charms has beauty even in
Bis.'Ha, ha, ha! Come, ladies, we'll go make madness —Come, Madam, try to repose a little.
an end of our tea.                  [Exeunt.    Ori. I cannot; for I must be up to go to church,
and I must dress me, put on my new gown, and
Enter MIRABEL and OLD MIRABEL.           be so fine, to meet my love. Hey, ho-!-   Will
Mir. Your patience, Sir. I tell you I won't not you tell me where my heart lies buried?
marry; and though you send all the bishops in    Mir. My very soul is touched-Your hand,
France to persuade me, I shall never believe their my fair.
doctrine against their practice. You would com-   Ori. How soft and gentle you feel! I'll tell
pel me to that: state,:which.I have heard you curse you your fortune, friend.
yourself, when my mother and you have battled    MIir. How she stares upon me!
itt for a whole week together.                   Ori. You have a flattering face; but'tis a fine
Old Mmir. Never but once, you rogue, and that one-I warrant you have five hundred mistresseswas when she longed for six Flanders mares: ay, Ay, to be sure, a mistress for every guinea in his
Sir, then she was breeding of you, which showed pocket-Will you pray' for me? I shall die towhat an expensive dog I should have of you.   morrow —And will you ring.my passing-bell?
MTlir. Do you know me, injured creature?
Enter PETIT.                    Ori. No,-but you shall be my intimate acWell, Petit, how does she now?               quaintance-in the grave.               Weeps.
Pet. Mad, Sir, con pompos-Ay, Mr. Mirabel,   M1lir. 0 tears, I must believe you; sure there's
you'll believe that I speak truth now, when I a kind of sympathy in madness; for even 1, obduconfess that I have told you hitherto nothing but rate as I am, do feel my soul so tossed with storms
lies;; our jesting is come to a sad earnest, she's of passion, that I could cry for help as well as she.
downright distracted.                                                        [ Wipes his eyes.
Ori. What, have you lost your lover?  No,
Re-enter BISARRE.               you mock me; I'll go home and pray.
Bis. Where is this mighty victor?-The great  llfir. Stay, my fair innocence, and hear me
exploit is done; go triumph in the glory of your own my love so loud that I may call your senses
conquest, inhuman, barbarous man! O Sir, [To to their place, restore'em to their charming,
OLD MIRABEL.] your wretched ward has found a happy functions, and reinstate myself into your
tender guardian of you; where her young inno- favour.
cence expected protection, here has she found her   Bis. Let her alone, Sir,'tis all too late; she
ruin.                                         trembles, hold her; her fits grow stronger by her
Old Mir. Ay, the fault is mine; for I believe talking; don't trouble her, she don't know you,
that rogue wont marry, for fear of begetting such  Sir.
another disobedient son as his father did. I have    Old Mir. Not know him! what then? she
done all I can, Madam, and now can do no more loves to see him for all that.
than run mad for company.             [Cries.              Re-enter DURETETE.
Enter DUGARD, with his sword drawn.         Dur. Where are you all? What the devil!
Dug. Away! Revenge, revenge.               melancholy, and I here! Are ye sad, and such a
Old Mir. Patience, patience, Sir. [OLD MIRA- ridiculous subject, such a very good jest, among
BEL holds him.] Bob, draw.            [Aside. you, as I am?
Dug. Patience! The coward's virtue, and the   l1/lir. Away with this impertinence; this is no
brave man'sfailing, when thus provoked-Villain! place for bagatelle; I: have murdered my honour,:- li/ir. Your sister's frenzy shall excuse your destroyed a lady, and my desire of reputation is
madness; and to show my concern for what she come at length too late; see there.
suffers, I'll bear the villain from her brother. —   Dur. What ails her?
Put up your anger with your sword; I have a    Mm1ir. Alas! she's mad.
heart like yours, that swells at.an affront received,   Dur. Mad! dost wonder at that?  By this
but melts at an injury given; and if the lovely light, they're all so; they're cozening mad; they're
Oriana's grief be such a moving. scene,'twill find: brawling mad; they're -proud mad; I just now
a part within this breast, perhaps as tender as a came from a whole world of mad women, that had
brother's.                                    almost-What, is she dead?
- Dug. To, prove. that soft compassion for her   M ir. Dead! heavens forbid.
grief, endeavour to remove it.-There, there,   Dur. Heavens further it; for'till they be as
behold an object that's-infective; I cannot view  cold as a key, there's no trusting them; you're
her,. but l am as mad as she.:               never sure that a woman's in earnest, till she is
Enter:ORIANA; they pla.e her in achair,    nailed in her coffin. Shall I talk to her?  Are
Enter ORIANA!, they place her in a chair.
you mad, mistress?
A sister that my dying parents left with their last   Bis. What's that to you, Sir?
words and blessing -to. my care.. Sister, dearest   Dur. Oons, Madam, are you there?
~iter.                                                                      [Exit, running




SCENE I                      T H EI NC 0 N STANT.                                   183
/Mir. Awan, thou wild buffoon; how poor. and    Dur. Did not I tell you so' They are all alike
mean this humour now appears 3 His follies and saints or devils.
my own I he'e disclaim; this lady's frenzy has   Mir. Ay, ay; there's no living here with
restored my senses, and was she perfect now, as security: this house is so full of stratagem anc
once she was, (before you all I speak it,) she design, that I must abroad again.
should be mine.; and as she is, my tears and    Dur. With all my heart, I'll bear thee conW
prayers shall wed her.                        pany, mv lad; I'll meet you at the play; and we'll
Dug. How happy had this declaration been set out for Italy to-morrow morning.
some hours ago.                                 Mir. A match; I'll go pa.y my compliment o
Bis. Sir, she beckons to you, and waves us to leave to my father presently.
go off; come, come, let's leave'em.            Dur. I'm afraid he'll stop you.
[Exeunt all but MIR. and ORa.   Mir. What, pretend a command over me after
Ori. Oh, Sir.                              his settlement of a thousand pounds a year upon
1Mir. Speak, my charming angel, if your dear me? No, no, he has passed away his authority
senses have regained their order; speak, fair, and with the conveyance; the will of a living father is
bless me with the news.                       chiefly obeyed for the sake of the dying one.
Ori. First, let me bless the cunning of my sex,                                 [Exeunt..
and that happy counterfeited frenzy that has restored to my poor labouring breast the dearest,                 ACT V.
best beloved, of men.                          SCENE I.-A  Street before the Play-house.
Alir. Tune, all ye spheres, your instruments
of joy, and carry round your spacious orbs the Enter MIRABEL and DURETETE, as coming from
happy sound of Oriana's health; her soul, whose                 the play.
harmony was next to yours, is now in tune again.  How dye like this play 
the counterfeiting fair has played the fool.    ir.   liked thecompany; the lady, the rich
-  -   3/~ir. 1 liked the company; the lady, the rich
She was so mad to counterfeit for me;.-. beauty in the front:box, had my attention. These
I was so mad to pawn my liberty:          impudent poets bring the ladies together to supBut now we both are well, and both are free.  port them, and to kill every body else.
Ori. How, Sir, free?                        For deaths upon the stage the ladies cry,
fMir. As air, my dear bedlamite; what, marry; But ne'er mind us that in the audience die.
a lunatic? Lookye, my dear, you have counterfeited madness so very well this bout, that you'll   Dur. Hoity-toity; did Phillis inspire you with
be apt to play the fool all your life long.  aI-ere, all this?
gentlemen..lir. Ten times more; the play-house is the
Ori. Monster! you won't disgrace me'.   element of poetry, because the region of beauty
JMir. O'my faith, but I will; here, come in, the ladies, methinks, have a more inspiring trigentlemen.-A miracle! a miracle! the woman's unlphant air in the boxes than any where else;
dispossessed, the devil's vanished.          they sit commanding on their thrones with all
their subject slaves about them: their best clothes
Re-enter OLD MNRABEL and DUGARD.
best looks, shining jewels, sparkling eyes, the treaOld Mir. Bless us, was she possessed?     sure of the world in a ring. 1 could wish that my
Mir. With the worst of demons, Sir, a mar- whole life long were the first night of a new play.
riage-devil, a horrid devil. Mr. Dugard, don't   Dur. The fellow has quite forgot his journey.
be surprised. I promised my endeavours to cure [Aside.] Have you bespoke post horses 3
your sister; no mad doctor in Christendom could  -Mlir. Grant me but three days, dear Captain,
have done it more effectually. Take her into one to discover the lady, one to unfold myself, and
your charge; and have a care she don't relapse; one to make me happy; and then I'm yours to
If she should, employ me not again, for I am no the world's end.
more infallible than others of the faculty; I do   Dur. Hast thou the impudence to promise thy.
cure sometimes.                               self a lady of her figure and quality in so short t
Ori. Your remedy, most barbarous man, will time 3
prove the greatest poison of my health: for though   I/lir. Yes, Sir-I have a confident address, no
my former frenzy was but counterfeit, I now shall disagreeable person, and five hundred louis-d'ors
run into a real madness.                     in my pocket.
[Exit: OLD M IRABELfOllows.   Dur. Five hundred louis-d'ors! You an't mad'
Dug,. This was a turn beyond my knowledge.   Mlir. I tell you she's worth five thousand; one
I'm so confused, I know not how to resent it.  of her black brilliant eyes is worth a diamond as
[Exit. big as her head. I compared her necklace with'Mir. What a dangerous precipice have I her looks, and the living, jewels out-sparkled the'scaped! Was not I just now on the brink of dead one by a million.
destruction.                                   Dur. But you have owned to me, that abating
Enter DURE.TETE.                Oriana's pretensions to marriage, you loved her
passionately; then how can you wander at this.
Oh, my friend, let me run into thy bosom; no rate 
lark, escaped from the devouring pounces of a   Mir. I longed for a partridge t'otherday off the
hawk, quakes with more dismal apprehension.    king's plate; but d'ye think, because I could nol
Dur. The matter, man!                      have it:, I must eat nothing            -
Mir. Marriage, hanging; I was just at the
gallows' foot, the running noose -about my neck,  Enter ORIANA in Boy's clothes, with a letter
and the:cart wheeling from me.-Oh-I shan't be   Ori. Is your name Mirabel, Sir.
myself this month again.                        AMir. Yes, Sir.




18;4                        THE INCONSTANT.                                    [ACT r.
Ori. A letter from your uncle in Picardy.    Dur. Why, how now, Mr. Page, do you start
[Gives the letter. up to give laws of a sudden? do you pretend to
Mir. [Reads.] The bearer is the son of a Pro- rise at court, and disapprove the pleasure of your
testant gentleman, who, flying for his religion, betters? Lookye, sirrah, if ever you would rise by
left me the charge of this youth-  A pretty a great man, be sure to be with him in his little
boy —He's fond of some handsome service. actions: and, as a step to your advancement, follow
that may afford him  opportunity of improve- your master immediately, and make it your hope
ment: your care of him will oblige, Yours.   that he goes to a bagnio.
Hast a mind to travel, child.                 Ori. Heavens forbid!               [Exit
Ori.'Tis my desire, Sir; I should be pleased   Dur. Now would I sooner take a cart in comto serve a traveller in any capacity.        pany of the hangman, than a coach with that
Mir. A hopeful inclination; you shall along woman: what a strange antipathy have I taken
with me into Italy as my page.               against these creatures; a woman to me is aversion
Dur. I don't think it safe; the rogue's [Noise upon aversion, a cheese, a cat, a breast of mutton,
Without.] too handsome-The play's done, and the squalling of children, the grinding of knives,
some of the ladies come this way.            and the snuff' of a candle.        [Exeunt.
Enter LAMORCE, with her train borne up       SCENE 11. -A Handsome Apartment
by a PAGE.                         Enter MIRABEL and LAMORCE.
Mir. Duretete, the very dear identical, she.  Lam. To convince me, that your service wU
Dur. And what then?                        something more than good breeding, please to lay
*Mir.. Why'tis she.                       out an hour of your company upon my desire, as
Dur. And what then, Sir                   you have already upon my necessity.
Mir. Then! Why! -Lookye, sirrah, the   Mir. Your desire, Madam, has only prevented
first piece of service I put upon you, is to fol- my request: my hours! make'em yours, Madam,
low that lady's coach, and bring me word where eleven, twelve, one, two, three, and all that belong
she lives.                     [I  ORIANA. to those happy minutes.
Ori. I don't know the town, Sir, and am afraid   Lam. But I must trouble you, Sir, to dismiss
of losing myself.                            your retinue, because an equipage at my door,
Mir. Pshaw!                               at this time of night, will not be consistent with my
Lam. Page, what's become of all my people?  reputation.
Page. I can't tell, Madam; I can see no sign   Mir. By all means, Madam, all but one little
of your ladyship's coach.                    boy —#Here, page, order my coach and servants
Lam. That fellow is got into his old pranks, home, and do you stay;'tis a foolish country boy,
and fallen drunk somewhere; none of the foot- that knows nothing but innocence.
men there?                                     Lam. Innocence, Sir? I should be sorry if
Page. Not one, Madam.                      you made any sinister constructions of my freedom.
Lam. These servants are the plague of our  MI ir. 0 Madam, I must not pretend to remark
lives; what shall I do?                     upon any body's freedom, having so entirely
Mir. By all my hopes, fortune pimps for me: forfeited my own.
now, Duretete, for a piece of gallantry.       Lam. Well, Sir,'twere convenient towards our
Dur. Why, you won't sure?                  easy correspondence, that we entered into a free
Mir. Won't, brute! Let not your servants' confidence of each other, by mutual declaration of
neglect, Madam, put your ladyship to any in- what we are, and what we think of one another.convenience, for you can't be disappointed of an Now, Sir, what are you?
equipage whilst mine waits below; and would   MIir. In three words, Madam-I am a gentleyou honour the master so far, he would be proud man, I have five hundred pounds in my pocket,
to pay his attendance.                       and a clean shirt on.
Dur. Ay, to be sure.              [Aside.   Lam. And your name isLam. Sir, I won't presume to be troublesome,  M/Iir. Mustapha.-Now, Madam, the invenfor my habitation is a great way off.        tory of your fortunes.
Dur. Very true, Madam, and he's a little en-   Lam. My name is Lamorce; my birth noble;
gaged; besides, Madam, a hackney-coach will do I was married young, to a proud, rude, sullen,
as well, Madam.                              impetuous fellow; the husband spoiled the gentleAIir. Rude beast, be quiet! [To DURETETE.] man; crying ruined my face, till at last I took
The further from home, Madam, the more oc- heart, leaped out of a window, got away to my
casion you have for a guard-pray, Madam-   friends, sued my tyrant, and recovered my fortuneLam. Lard, Sir-[She declines his entreaties. I lived from fifteen to twenty to please a husband;
Dur. Ah! the devil's in his impudence; now  from twenty to forty I'm resolved to please myself;
he wheedles, she smiles; he flatters, she simpers; and from thence upwards I'll humour the world.
he swears, she believes; he's a rogue, and she's   AIir. Ha, ha, ha! I rejoice in your good fortune
a w-   in a moment.                  [Aside. with all my heart.
Mir. Without there! my coach; Duretete,   Lam. 0, now I think on't, Mr. Mustapha,
wish me joy.             [Hands the lady out. you have got the finest ring there, 1 could scarcely
Dur. Wish you safe home! Here, you little believe it right; pray let me see it.
Picard, go follow your master, and he'll lead you-   Mir. Hum! Yes, Madam,'tis,'tis right-but,
Ori. Whither, Sir?                        but, but, but, but it was given me by my mother,
Dur. To the academy, child:'tis the fashion, an old family ring, Madam, an old-fashioned family
with men of quality, to teach their pages their ring.
exercise-go.                                   Lam. Ay, Sir-If you can entertain yourself
Ori. Won't you go with him too, Sir? that for a moment, I'll wait on you immediately.
woman may do him some harm  I don't like her.                                      [Exit.




~cENE,I.]                  THE INCONSTANT.                                        1815
_Alir. Certainly the stars were in a strange in-.Mir. Sir, your most humble servant.
triguing humour when I was born-Ay, this                              [They change wigs.
night should I have had a bride in my arms, and    1 Bra. Madam, your most humble slave.
that I should like well enough: but what should I    [Goes up foppishly to the Lady, and
have to-morrow night?  The same. And what                salutes her.
next night? The same. And what next night?    2 Bra. The fellow's very liberal; shall we
The very same. Soup for breakfast, soup for din- murder him.             [Apart.
ner, soup for supper, and soup for breakfast again-    1 Bra. No, no! 1 want but a handsome preBut here's variety.    [Runs towards the door. tence to quarrel with him, for you know we must
act like gentlemen. Here, some wine-[ Wine
Enterfour BRAVOES with LAMORCE, MIRABEL brought.] Sir, your good health.
starts back.                                  [Pulls MIRABEL by the nose.
3lJir. Oh! Sir, your most humble servant: a
She comes, she comes —Hum, hum —Bitch —  pleasant frolic enough, to drink a man's health,
Murdered, murdered, to be sure!  The cursed and pull him by the nose: ha, ha, ha! the pleasantstrumpet! To make me send away my servants- est pretty-humoured gentleman.
Nobody near me! These cut-throats always make   Lam. Help the gentleman to a glass.
sure work. What shall I do? 1 have but one                                  [MIR. drinks.
way. [Aside.] Are these gentlemen your relations,   1 Bra. How d'ye like the wine. Sir?
Madam?                                        _Mir. Very good o' the kind. Sir: but I tell ye
Lam. Yes, Sir.                             what, I find we're all inclined to-be frolicsome, and
Mir. Gentlemen, your most humble servant';'egad, for my own part, I was never more disposed
Sir, your most faithful; yours, Sir, with all my to be merry; let's make a night on't, ha!-This
heart; your most obedient-come, gentlemen. wine is pretty, but I have such Burgundy at
[Salutes all round.] Please to sit-no ceremony, home.-Lookye, gentlemen, let me send for half
next the lady, pray, Sir.           [All sit. a dozen flasks of my Burgundy; I defy France to
Lam. Well, Sir, and how d'ye like my friends? match it;-'Twill make us all life, all air, pray,
Mir. 0 Madam. the most finished gentlemen! gentlemen.
I was never more happy in good company in my   2 Bra. Eh! Shall us have his Burgundy 2
life; I suppose, Sir, you have travelled?                                        [Apart.
1 Bra. Yes, Sir.                             1 Bra. Yes, faith, we'll have all we can; here
Mir. Which way, may I presume?            call up the gentleman's servant. [Apart.]-What
1 Bra. In a western barge, Sir.,    think you, Lamorce?
Mir. Ha, ha, ha! very pretty; facetious, pretty,   Lam. Yes, yes. [Apart.] Your servant is a
gentleman!                                  foolish country boy, Sir; he understands nothing
Lam. Ha, ha, ha!  Sir, you have got the but innocence.
prettiest ring upon your finger there-         Mir. Ay, ay, Madam. -Here, page!
Mir. Ah! Madam,'tis at your service, with all
my heart.                 [OfCering the ring.
Lam. By no means, Sir, a family ring!     Take this key, and go to my butler, order him to
[Takes it. send half a dozen flasks of the red Burgundy,
11fir. No matter, Madam.  Seven hundred marked a thousand; and be sure you make haste;
pounds, by this light.               [Aside. I long to entertain my friends here, my very good
2 Bra. Pray, Sir, what's o'clock?         friends.
Mir. Hum! Sir, I have left my watch at home.   Omnes. Ah, dear Sir!
2 Bra. I thought I saw the string of it just   1 Bra. Here, child, take a glass of wine-Your
now-                                         master and I have changed wigs, honey, in a frolic.
Mtir. Od's my life, Sir, I beg your pardon; here  Where had you this pretty boy, honest Mustapha?
it is-but it don't go.          [Puts it up.   Ori. Mustapha!                    [Aside.
Lam. 0 dear, Sir, an English watch; Tom-   Mir. Out of Picardy -this is the first errand
pion's, I presume.                           he has made for me, and if he does it right, I'll
MIir. D'ye like it, Madam?-no ceremony- encourage him.'tis at your service, with all my heart and soul-    Ori. The red Burgundy, Sir 2
Tompion's! Hang ye.                  [Aside.   lI/ir. The red marked a thousand; and be sure
1 Bra. But, Sir, above all things, I admire the you make haste.
fashion and make of your sword-hilt.           Ori. I shall, Sir.                  [Exit.
Alir. I'm mighty glad you like it, Sir.      1 Bra. Sir, you were pleased. to like my wig
1 Bra. Will you part with it, Sir?        have you any fancy for my coat? —Lookye, Sir,
Mir. I won't sell it.                   - it has served a great many honest gentlemen very
1 Bra. Not sell it, Sir?  faithfully.
Mir. No, gentlemen-but I'll bestow it with    Mir. The insolence of these dogs is beyond'all my heart.                    [Offers it. their cruelty.                      [Aside,
1 Bra. O, Sir, we rob you.                   Lam. You're melancholy, Sir.
Mir. That you do, I'll be sworn. [Aside.] I   Mir. Only concerned, Madam, that I should
have another at home, pray, Sir-Gentlemen, have no servant here but this little boy-he'll
you're too modest; have I any thing else that you make some confounded blunder, I'll lay my life
fancy 2 Sir, will you do me a favour  [To the on't; [ would not be disappointed of my wine for
first BRAVO.] I am extremely in love with that the universe.
wig which you wear; will you do me the favour   Lam. He'll do well enough, Sir; but supper's
to change with me?                           ready; will you please to eat a bit, Sir 2
I Bra. Lookye, Sir, this is a family wig, and   Mir. O, Madam, I never had a better stomaca
I-would not part with it; but if you like it-  in my life.
VoL. I.... 2 A      16*




186                         THE -INCONSTAN T.                                  r[ crT v.
Lam. Come then-we have nothing but a plate      SCENE IV.-LAMORCE'S Lodgings.
of soup.                                                    Enter MIRABEL
Alir. Ah! the marriage soup I could dispense
*Air. Bloodv hell-hounds, I overneard you!.[wAsideth now.  handing the L  Was not I two hours ago the happy, gay, rejoic.
[Asid2 Bra.e e despatch himng the Lady. ing Mirabel? How did I plume: my hopes in o
2 Bra. Shall we despatch him                                                    p.
3 Bra. To be sure. I think he knows me.   fair coming prospect of a long scene of years
Life courted me with all the charms of vigour
t  con i   to loo a man in th faes  aft  youth, and fortune; and to be torn away from all
the confidence to look a man in the face after I promised joys is more than death the manner
have done him an injury, therefore we'll murder my promised joys is more tha  n death; the manner
Ehim.                              [ -rExeunt. too, by villains.-O my Oriana, this very moment
might have blessed me in thy arms, and my poor
SCENE III. —OLD MIRABEL'S House.         boy! the innocent boy!-Confusion! —But hush!
Enter DURETETE.                they come: I must dissemble stillDur. My friend has forsaken me, I have                Enter the four BRAVOES.
abandoned my mistress, my time lies heavy upon No news of my wine, gentlemen?.
my hands, and my money burns in my pocket.-   I Bra. No, Sir; I believe your country booby
But now I think on't, my myrmidons are upon has lost himself, and we can wait no longer for'tduty to-night; Ill fairly stroll down to the guard, True, Sir, -you're a pleasant gentleman; but I
and nod away the night with my honest lieutenant suppose you understand our business.
over a flask of wine, a good story, and a pipe of  M2ir. Sir, I may go near to guess at your emtobacco.                         [-Going of. ployments; you, Sir, are -a lawyer, I presume, you
Enter BISARR9.                a physician, you a scrivener, and you a stockhjobber. -All cut-throats,'egad.     [Aside.
Bis. Who comes there  Stand!                 4 Bra.; Sir, I am a broken officer;: I was cashDur. Hey dey, now she's turned dragoon.    iered at the head of the army for a coward; so I
Bis. Lookye, Sir, I'm told you intend to travel took up the trade of murder to retrieve the reputaagain.-I design to wait on you as far as Italy.   tion of my courage.
Dur. Then I'll travel into Wales.            3 Bra. I am a soldier too, and would serve my
Bis. Wales!'What country's that't        king; but I don't like the quarrel, and I have more
Dur. The land of mountains, child, where honour than to fight in a bad cause.
you're never out of the way,'cause there's no   2 Bra. I was bred a gentleman, and I have no
such thing as a high road.                   estate, but I must have my whore and my bottle,
Bis. Rather always in a high -road,'cause you through the prejudice of education.
travel all upon hills;-but be't as it will, I'll jog    1 Bra. I am a ruffian too, by the prejudice of
along with you.                              education; I was bred a butcher. In short, Sir,
Dar. -But we intend to sail to the East Indies.  if your wine had come, we might have trifled a
Bis. East or West,'tis all one to me; I'm tight little longer.-Come, Sir, which sword will you
and light, and the fitter for sailing.       die by? mine, Sir?
Dur. But suppose we take through Germany,   2 Bra. Or mine?                    [Draws.
and drink hard.      3 Bra. Or mine?                   [Draws.
Bis. Suppose I take through Germany, and   4 Bra. Or mine?                      [Draws.
drink harder than you?.             lir. I scorn to beg my life; but to be butchered
Dur.'Sdeath, woman, will you go to the guard thus! [Knocking.] O, there s the wine  this
with me, and smoke a pipe?                   moment for my life or death.
Bis. Allons donc!
Dur. The devil's in the woman.-Suppose I                  Enter ORIANA.
hang myself?                                Lost, for ever lost!-Where's the wine, child?
Bis. There I'll leave you.                                                     [Faintly.
Dur. And a happy riddance; the gallows is   Ori. Coming up, Sir.               [Stamps.
welcome.                                     Enter DURETETE and sixa of the grand lMusqueBis. Hold, hold, Sir! [Catches'him  by the   teers-; the Ruffians drop their Swords; exit
arm as he is going.] one word before we part.  ORIANA.
Dur. Let me go Madam
Bis. Stir, if you dare.-Come, Sir, stand there    The wine, the wine, the wine'outh,
now, t and ogle me. [He frowns upon her.] Now  pleasure, fortune, days, and years, are now my
now, and ogle me. [He frowns upon her.] Now
own again.-Ah, my dear friends did not I tell
a languishing sigh! [He groans.] Now run and
you this wine would make me: merry! —Dear
take my fan-faster. rHe runs and takes it up.] you this wine woulde make   bmerry — Dear
captn,  these gentlemen are the bes iaured,
Now play with it handsomely.                 facetious, witty creatures thath ve snu knew.
Dur. Ay, ay.          [He tears it to pieces.
Bis. Hold, hold, dear, humorous coxcomb;                  Enter LAMORcE.
captain, spare my fan, and I'll-Why, you    Lam. Is the wine come, Sir?
rude, inhuman monster, don't you expect to pay    Mir. 0 yes, Madam, the wine is come  see
for this?                                   there!'[Pointin.g to the Soldiers.] Your ladyship:Dur. Yes, Madam, there's twelvepence; for has got a very fine ring upon your finger.
that is the price on't.  -                      Lam. Sir,'tis at your service.
Bis. Sir, it cost a guinea.                  Mir. 0 ho! is it so? Thou dear seven hundred
Dur. Well, Madam, you shall have the -sticks pounds, thou'rtwelcome.home again with all my
again.;   [Throws them to her, and exit. heart-Ad's my life, Madam, you, have got the
Bis. Ha, ha,'ha!' ridiculous, below my con- finest built watch there! Tompion's; I presume
cern. I mniust follow him, however, to know if he: La.  Sir, you may wear it.
can give me any news of Oriana.'[Exit.   /l ir. 0, Madam, by no means;'tis too much



SCENE IrI.]                 THE  INCO N S TAN T.                                   187
Rob you of all! [ Takes it from her.] Good, dear, Father, friends, gentlemen, behold the youth that
time, thou'rt a precious thing; I'm glad I have has relieved me from the most ignominious death.retrieved thee, [Puts it up.] What, my friends Command me, child; before you all, before my
neglected all this while! Gentlemen, you'llpardon  late so kind indulgent stars, I swear to grant
my complaisance to the lady —How now? —Is it whate'er you ask.
civil to be so out of humour at my entertainment,   Ori. To the same stars, indulgent now to me,
and I so pleased with yours? —Captain, you're I will appeal as to the justice of my claim; I shall
surprised at all this; but we're in our frolics, you demand but what was mine before-  the just
must know.-Some wine here.                 - performance of your contract to Oriana.
[Discovers herself
Enter Servant, with wine.             Omnes. Oriana!
Come, captain, this worthy gentleman's health.  Ori. In this disguise I resolved to follow you
[ Tweaks the first BRAVO by the nose; he abroad, counterfeited the letter that got me into
roars.                               your service; and so, by this strange turn of fate,
But now-where's my dear, dear deliverer, my  I became the instrument of your preservation.
boy, my charming boy'                          Dur. Mirabel, you're caught.
1 Bra. I hope some of our crew below stairs   Mir. Caught! I scorn the thought of impo
have despatched him.                         sition! Caught! No,'tis my voluntary act; this
Mmir. Villain! what sayest thou'  Despatch- was no human stratagem; but by my providential
ed! I'll have ye all tortured, racked, torn to stars, designed to show the dangers wandering
pieces alive, if you have touched my boy.-Here, youth incurs by the pursuit of an unlawful love,
page! page! page!                 [Runs out. to plunge me headlong in the snares of vice, and
Dur. Here, gentlemen, be sure you secure then to free me by the hands of virtue: here on
those fellows.                               my knees I humbly beg my fair preservei's par1 Bra. Yes; Sir, we know you and your guard don; my thanks are needless, for myself I owe.
will be very civil to us.                    And now for ever do protest me yours.
Dur. Now for you, Madam-.He, he, he!-    Old Mfir. Tal, al, di, dal, [Sings.] Kiss me,
I'm so pleased to think that I shall be revenged daughter-no, you shall kiss me first. [ To LAof one woman before I die.                   MORCE.] for you're the cause on't. Well, Bisarre,
Dur. Take'em to justice.                  what say you to the captain -
[ Guards carry of BRAVOES.   Bis. I like the beast well enough; but I don't
Enter OLD MI~RABEL, DUGARD, and BIsARRE.   understand his: paces so well as to venture him in
a strange road.
Old Mir. Robin, Robin, where's Bob? where's:Old Mir. But marriage is so beaten a path that
my boy'-Whhat, is this the lady' a pretty vixen, you can't go wrong.
hfith!-Harkye, child, because: my son was so   Bis. Ay,'tis so beaten, that the way is spoiled.
civil as to oblige you with a coach, I'll treat you    Dur. There is: but one thing should nmake me
with a cart, indeed I will.                  thy husband-I could marry thee to-day for the
Dug. Ay, Madam,-and you shall have a privilege of beating thee to-morrow.
swinging equipage, three or four thousand foot-   Old Mmir. Come, come, you may agree foi all
men at your heels at least.                  this.  Mr. Dugard, are not you pleased with
Dur. No less becomes her quality.          this'
Bis. Faugh! the monster!  Dug. So pleased, that if I thought it might
Dur. Monster! ay, you're all a little monstrous, secure your son's affection to my sister, I would
let me tell you.                             double her fortune.
Re-enter MIRABEL.                 Mir. Fortune! has she not given me mine!
Old Mir. Ah, my dear Bob, art thou safe, man? my life, my estate, my all, and what is more, her
Mir. No, no, Sir, I'm ruined! the saver of my virtuous self-Behold the foil [Pointing to LAlife is lost!                                MORCE.] that sets this brightness off! [ To ORIOld Mir. No, he came and brought us the ANA.] Here, view the pride [To ORIANA.] and
news..              scandal of the sex.            [To LAMORCE.
MIir. But where is he.   -      What -liberty can be. so tempting there,
Re-enter ORTANA.                                             [To LAMORCE.
Ha! [Runs and embraces her.] My dear pre    Asa soft,          smrous bondage  here?
server, what shall I do to recompense your trust I                           [To ORIANA.




THE MAYOR OF GARRATT:
A FARCE,
IN TWO ACTS.
BY SAMUEL FOOTE, EsQ.
REMARKS.
THIS humourous and entertaining piece was first performed at the Haymarket Theatre, in 1763.-The sketch of
character here is bold and coarse, but calculated for the multitude. Major Sturgeon, the city militia officer, is
highly wrought, and was admirably performed by Mr. Foote, who received an applause not less merited than that
which is bestowed on the exertions of Mr. Dowton, in his inimitable keeping of the same character. Bruin is a
sample not absolutely unparalleled within the sound of Bow bells, and Jerries we meet every day.
The main incident of this piece is derived from a popular burlesque on our parliamentary elections: this takes
place after every general election, when the successful candidate, selected as the most deformed and stupid indi
vidual of the multitude, is chaired at Garratt Lane, in the parish of Wandsworth, and receives the honour of
knighthood from his constituents. A considerable sum is squandered by the mob on these occasions, and the
forms of election are strictly observed: the several candidates are taught to deliver an oration, replete with popular sentiments and promises; that they will lower the prices of gin, bread, beer, &c.; make old women bishops,
and that they will not accept any place in the House. Sir Jeffrey Dunstan, a roguish and very deformed mendicant, well known in London, was for many years JMayor of Garratt, and Sir Harry Dinsdale succeeded him in his
titles and honours, and in his sinecure of Garratt, which differs chiefly from other sinecures, by the absence of a
good salary,
DRAMATIS PERSONSE
DRURY LANE, 1764.           DRURY LANE, 1814.
MAJOR STURGEON,...........    Mr. Foote.............  Mr. Dowton.
SIR JACOB JOLLUP,........... Mr. Baddeley............Mr. Penley.
JERRY SNEAK,...........            Mr. Weston...........  Mr. Russell.
BRUIN,....................... Mr Moody.........    Mr. G. Smith.
ROGER....                    Mr. Clough..............Mr. Evans.
MOB..                            Messrs. Fox, Mar.......    Messrs. Chatterly,' Watkins, c..........      West, 4fc.
SNUFFLE,...........Mr. Vaughan............Mr. Maddocks
CRISPIN HEELTAP,..............  Mr. Bransby.........       Mr. Wewitzer
MRS. BRUIN,...........           Mrs. Lee......... Mrs. Scott.
MRS. SNEAK,............ Mrs. Clive.............. Ms. Harlowe.
ACT I.                       rascal?  Is that all your manners?  Has his
SCENE  I.-SIR  JACOB  JOLLUP'S  House at' majesty dubbed me a knight for you to make me
GarrCtt.E I.-  JAB   OLL'  House  a mister? Are the candidates near upon coming?
Roger. Nic Goose, the tailor, from  Putney,
Enter SIR JACOB JOLLUP.               they say, will be here in a crack, Sir Jacob.
Sir J. Roger!                                     Sir J. Has Margery fetched in the linen?
~Enter ROGER.  ~          Roger. Yes, Sir Jacob.
Sir J. Are the pigs and the poultry locked up
Roger. Anan, Sir!                             in the barn?
/ir J. Sir, sirrah! and why not Sir Jacob, you    Roger. Safe, Sir Jacob.
188




SCENE I.             THE MAYOR OF GARRATT.                                        189
Sir J. And the plate and spoons in the pantry? spirits, to attack the gibbet where Gardel is hangRoger. Yes, Sir Jacob.                    ing: but, turning down a narrow lane to the let,
Sir J. Then give me the key; the mob will as it might be about there, in order to possess a
soon be upon us; and all is fish that comes to pig-sty, that we might take the gallows in flank,
their net. Has Ralph laid the cloth in the hall? and at all events secure a retreat, who should
Roger. Yes, Sir Jacob.                    come by but a drove of fat oxen for Smithfield.
Sir J. Then let him bring out the turkey and  The drums beat in the front, the dogs barked in
chine, and be sure there is plenty of mustard; the rear, the oxen set up a gallop: on they came
and, d'ye hear, Roger, do you stand yourself at thundering upon us, broke through our ranks
the gate, and be careful who you let in.    in an instant, and threw the whole corps in conRoger. I will, Sir Jacob.          [Exit. fusion.
Sir J. So, now I believe things are pretty secure.   Sir J. Terrible!
But I can't think what makes my daughters so   Maj. S. The major's horse took to his heels;
late ere they-[A knocking at the gate.] Who away he scoured over the heath. That gallant
is that, Roger?                             commander stuck both his spurs into the flank,
Roger. [Without.] Justice Sturgeon, the fish- and for some time held by his mane; but, in crossmonger, from Brentfobrd.                    ing a ditch, the horse threw up his head, gave the
Sir. J. Gad's my life! and major to the Mid- major a dowse in the chops, and plumped him into
dlesex militia. Usher him in, Roger.        a gravel-pit, just by the powder mills.
Enter MAJOR STURGEON.               Sir J. Dreadful!
Maj. S. Whether from the fall or the fright, tte
I could have wished you had come a little sooner, major moved off in a month. Indeed, it was an
Major Sturgeon.                              unfortunate day for us all.
A' faj. S. Why, what has been the matter, Sir   Sir J. As how?
Jacob?                                        Maj S. Why, as Captain Cucuinber, Lieute.
Sir J. There has, major, been here an impu- nant Pattypan, Ensign Tripe, and myself, were
dent pill-monger, who has dared to scandalize the returning to town in the T'urnham-green stage,
whole body of the bench.                    we were stopped near the Hammersmith turnpike,
Maj. S. Insolent companion! had I been here, and robbed and stripped by a single footpad.
I would have mittimused the rascal at once.    Sir J. An unfortunate day indeed!
Sir J. No, no, he wanted the major more than    Maj. S. But, in some measure to make rme
the magistrate: a few smart strokes from vour amends, I got the major's commission.
cane would have fully answered the purpose.-    Sir J. You did?
Well, major, our wars are done; the rattling drum    l'aj. S. 0 yes. I was the only one of the
and squeaking fife now wound our ears no more.  corps that could ride; otherwise we always sucMaj. S. True, Sir Jacob, our corps is disem- ceeded of course: no jumping over heads, no
bodied; so the French may sleep in security.    underhand work among us; all men of honour;
Sir J. But, major, was it not rather late in life and I must do the regiment the justice to say,
for you to enter upon the profession of arms?    there never was a set of more amiable officers.
Maj. S. A little awkward in the beginning,   Str J. Quiet and peaceable.
Sir Jacob: the great difficulty they had was, to    Maj. S. As lambs, Sir Jacob. Excepting one
get me to turn out my toes; but use, use reconciles boxing bout at the Three Compasses in Acton,
all them kind of things: why, after my first cam- between Captain Sheers and the Colonel, conpaign, I no more minded the noise of the guns cerning a game at all-fours, I don't remember a
than a flea-bite.                           single dispute.
Sir J. No!                                  Sir J. Why, that was mere mutiny; the capMaj. S. No. There is more made of those tain ought to have been broke.
matters than they merit. For the general good,    iaj. S. He was; for the colonel not only took
inideed, I am glad of the peace: but as to my away his cockade, but his custom: and I don't
single self-and yet we have had some desperate think poor Captain Sheers has done a stitch for
duty, Sir Jacob.                            him since.
Sir J. No doubt.                            Sir J. But you soon supplied the loss of
Maj. S. Oh! such marchings and counter- Molassas?
marchings, from Brentford to Ealing, from Ealing   Mllaj. S. In part only: no, Sir Jacob, he had
to Acton, from Acton to Uxbridge; the dust flying, great experience; he was trained up to arms
sun scorching, men sweating!-Why, there was from his youth; at sixteen, he trailed a pike in
our last expedition to Hounslow; that day's work the Artillery-ground; at eighteen, got a company
carried off Major Molassas. Bunhill-fields never in the Smithfield pioneers; and by the time he
saw a braver commander! He was an irrepara- was twenty, was made aid-de-camp to Sir Jeffrey
ble loss to the service.                    Grub, knight, alderman, and colonel of the yellow.
Sir J. How came that about.                Sir J. A rapid rise!
Maj. S. Why, it' was partly the major's own    Maj. S. Yes, he had a genius for war; but
fault: I advised him. to pull off his spurs before what I wanted in practice, I made up by doubling
he went upon action: but he was resolute, and my: diligence. Our porter at home had been a
would not be ruled.                          sergeant of marines; so, after shop was shut up
Sir J. Spirit-zeal for the service.       at night, he used to teach me my exercise; and
Maj. S. Doubtless. But to proceed: in order to he had not to deal with a dunce, Sir Jacob
Ret our men in good spirits, we were quartered at   Sir J. Your progress was great.
Thistleworth the evening before. At day-break   Maj. S. Amazing. In a week I could shoulder
our regiment formed at Hounslow town's end, as and rest, and poize, and turn to the right, and
it might be about here. The major made a fine wheel to the left; and in less than a month I
disposition: on we marched, the men all in high could fire without winking or blinking.




190                    THE MAYOR OF GARRATT.                                    [ACTrz.
Sir J. A perfect Hannibal.                Re-enter MAJOR STURGEON-, leading in MRs,
Aiaj. S. Ah, and then I learned to form lines,               SNEAK.
and hollows, and squares, and evolutions, andi
revolutions. Let me tell you, Sir Jacob, it, was  I demand a million of
lucky -that monsieur kept his myrmidons at home,: pardons. I have given you a profusion of trouble;
or we should have peppered his flat-bottomed  but my husband is such a goose-cap, that I can't
boats..get no good out of him at home or abroad.Sir J. Ay, marry, he had: a marvellous -es- Jerry, Jerry Sneak!-Your blessing, Sir Jacob.
cape.  Sir J. Daughter, you are welcome to Garratt.
cape.
-Maj. S. We would a taught him what a Briton   Irs. S. Why, Jerry Sneak  I say.
can do, who'is fighting pro arvis and focus.
can (    y, who is fightig pro arvis andfocus. lkEnter JERRY SNEAK, with a band-box and a hoopSir J. Pray now, major, which do you look    petticoatuner harm, and cinal, c.
upon'as the best disciplined troops,-the' London       n
regiments, or the Middlesex militia?.-      Sneak. Here,'lovy.
Mlaj. S. Why,. Sir Jacob, it does not become   Mrs. S. Here, looby: there, lay these things in
me to say? but, lack-a-day, they have never seen the hall; and then go and look after.the horse.
any service-Holiday soldiers! Why, I don't be- Are you sure you have got all the things. out of
lieve, unless indeed: upon a lord'mayor's'day, and the chaise?
that mere matter of accident, that they were ever   Sneak. Yes, chuck.
wet tc the skin in their lives.'Ars. S. Then give me my fan.
Sir J. Indeed'!                                    [JERRY drops the things in searching
Maj. S. No! -soldiers for sunshine; cockneys;             his pocketfor the fan.
they have not the appearance, the air, the free-   Mrs. S. Did ever mortal see such a-I declare,
dom, the jenny sequoi that-Oh, could you but I am quite ashamed to be seen with him abroad:
see me salute! You have never a spontoon'in the go, get you gone out of my sight.
house?.    Sneak. I go, lovy. Good day to my father-inSir J. No; but we could get you a shove- law.
pike.                                          Sir J. I am glad to see you, son Sneak; but
Maj. S. No matter. Well, Sir Jacob, and how  where is your brother Bruin and his wife?
are your fair daughters, sweet Mrs. Sneak, and    Sneak. He will be here anon, father, Sir Jacob;
the lovely Mrs. Bruin; is she as lively and as bril- he did but just step into the Alley to gather how
liant as ever?                             tickets were sold.
Sir J. Oh, oh, now the murder is out; this visit   Sir J. Very well, son Sneak.  [E.xit SNEAK
was intended for them: come, own now, major,   Mrs. S. Son! yes, and a pretty son you have
did not you expect to meet with them here? you provided.
officers are men of such -gallantry!          Sir J. I hope all for' the best: why, what ter.
~M aj. S. Why, we do tickle up the ladies, Sir rible work there would have been, had you marJacob: there is no resisting a red coat.    ried such a one as your sister.; one house could
Sir J. True; true, major.                 never have contained you. Now, I thought this
Maj. S. But that is now all over with me: meek mate"Farewell to the plumed steeds, and neighing    Mrs. S. Meek! a mushroom! a milksop!
troops," as the black man says in the play; like   Sir J. Look ye, Molly, I have married you to a
the Roman censurer, I shall retire to my Savine man; take care you don't make him a monster.
field, and there cultivate cabbages.                                        [Exit SIR J.
Sir J. Under the shade of your laurels.     liirs. S. Monster! Why, major, the fellow has
Maj. S. True: I have done' with the major, no more heart than a mouse. Had my kind stars
and now return to the magistrate; cedunt arma indeed allotted me a military man, I should,
togge.'                           doubtless, have deported myself in a beseemingly
Mob. [Without.] Huzza!'          manner.
Maj. S. Unquestionably,  Madam.
Re-enter ROGER.                 Mrs. S. Nor would the major have found, had
it been my fortune to intermarry with him, that
Sir J. What's the matter now, Roger?     Molly Jollup would have dishonoured his cloth.
Roger. The electors desire to know if your   Mlaj. S. I should have been-toohappy.
worship has any body to recommend.. -      Mrs. S. Indeed Sir, I reverence the army; they
Sir J. By no means; let them be free in their are all so brave, so polite, so every thing a woman
choice; I sha'n't interfere. -'       can wish.
Roger. And if your worship has any objection.Ml/aj. S. Oh, Madamto Crispin Heeltap, the cobbler, being returning    Mrs. S. So elegant, so genteel, so obliging: and
officer'                                   then the rank; why, who would dare to affront
Sir J. None, provided the rascal can keep him- the wife of a major    
self sober. Is he there?.'         Maj. S. No man with impunity.; that I take
Roger. Yes, Sir Jacob.  Make way there; the freedom to say, Madam.
stand farther off from the gate: Here is Madam    Mrs. S. I know it, good Sir. Oh! I am a
Sneak in a chair along with her husband.     stranger to what I have missed.
Maj. S.'Gadso, you will permit me to convoy   Maj. S. Oh, Madam!-Let me die, but she
her in.                              [Exit. has infinite merit.                  [Aside.
Sir J. Now here is one of the evils of war.   PiMrs S. Then to be joined to a sneaking, sloThis Sturgeon was as pains-taking a Billingsgate- venly cit: a paltry, prying, pitiful pin-maker!
broker as any in the bills of mortality. But the   Maj. S. Melancholy!
fish is got out of his element, the soldier has quite   M1irs. S. To be jostled and cramm'ed with the
demolished the citizen.                      crowd; no respect, no place, no precedence; te




SCENE I.            THE MAYOR   F GARRATT.                                        191.
be choked with the smoke of the city; no country would overhear me: and she says as how I bawl
jaunts but to Islington; no balls but at Pewterers' worser than the broom-man.*
hall.                                          M liaj. S. And you must not think of disobliging
AIaj. S. Intolerable!                    your lady.
A1irs. S. I see, Sir, you have a proper sense of   Sneak. I never does: I never contradicts her,
my sufferings.                               not I.
A/iaj. S. And would shed my best blood to re-   tl/aj. S. That's right: she is a woman of infilieve them.:                              nite merit.
MArs. S. Gallant gentleman!                 Sneak. 0, a power!; And don't you think she
AIaj. S. The brave must favour the fair.  is very: pretty withal?
Mlirs. S. Intrepid major!       -laj. S. A Venus!
M7laj. S. Divine Mrs. Sneak-!                Sneak. Yes, werry like Venus.-Mayhap you
Mizrs. S. Obliging commander!              have known her some time?
Maj. S. Might I be permitted the honour —   Maj. S. Long.
MIrs. S. Sir!                                Sneak. Belike before she was married?
Maj. S. Just to ravish a kiss from your hand?   Maj. S. I did Master Sneak.
Mrs. S. You have a right to all we -can    Sneak. Ay, when she was a virgin. I thought
grant.                                      you was an old acquaintance, by your kissing her
AIfaj. S. Courteous, condescending, complying  hand; *for-we ben't quite so familiar as that. —But
— um —Ha l                                   then indeed we ha'n't been married a year.
RIeaj. S. The mere honeymoon.
Re-enter JERRY SNEAK.               Sneak. Ay, ay, I suppose we shall come to it
by degrees.
Sneak Chuck, my brother and sister Bruin are   Brn.   ithout.]  ome along,Janewh
just turning the corner; the Clapham stage was you are as pursy and lazy, you jadequite full, and so they came by vater.
Mrs. S. I wish they had all been soused in the Enter BRUIN and Ms.   BRUIN; BRUIN with a
Thames.-A prying, impertinent puppy!          cotton cap on; his wife with his wig, great coat,
Maj. S. Next time I will clap a sentinel to   andfishing-rod.
secure the door.
M/rs. S. Major Sturgeon, permit me to with- Come, Jane, give me my wig: you slut, howyou
draw for a moment; my dress demands a little have towsled the curls! Master Sneak, a goo
morning to you. Sir, I am your humble servant
Maj. S. Your ladyship's most entirely devoted. unknown.
Alrs. S. Ladyship! he is the very Broglio and           Re-enter ROGER.
Belleisle of the army!
Sneak. Shall I wait upon you, dove?          Roger. Mrs. Sneak begs to speak with th,
Mrs. S. No, dolt; what, would you leave the major.
major alone?  Is that your manners, you mon-  AIaj. S. I will wait on the lady immediately.
grel                        -                  Sneak. Don't tarry an instant; you can't think
MIlaj. S. Oh, Madam, I can never be alone; your how impatient she is. [Exit M AJOR.]. A good
sweet idea will be my constant companion.    morrow to you, brother Bruin: you have had a
Mrs. S. Mark that: I am sorry, Sir, I am: ob- warm walk across the fields.
ligated to leave you.                          Mrs. B. Good lord, I am all in a muckMai. S. Madam-                               Bruin. And who may you thank for it, hussy?
M-lrs. S. Especially with such a wretched com- if. you had got up time enough, you might have
panion.                                     secured the stage; but you are a lazy lie-abedMaj. S. Oh, Madam-                           Mrs. B. There's Mr. Sneak keeps my sister
Mrs. S. But as soon as my dress is restored,- I a chay.
shall fly to relieve your distress.            Bruin. And so he may; but I know better
AIaj. S. For that moment I shall wait with the what to do with my money.
greatest impatience.  -M21rs. B. For the matter of that, we can afford
Melrs. S. Courteous commander!           it well enough as it is.
Maj. S. Paragon of women!                  Bruin. And how do you know that? Who
lMrs. S.; Adieu!             v            told you as much, Mrs. Mixen? I hope I know
Maj. S. Adieu!        [Exit MRS. SNEAK. the world better than to trust my concerns with
Sneak; Notwithstanding, Sir, all my chicken- a wife: no, no, thank you for that; Mrs. Jane.
has said, I am  special company when she is  ilrs. B. And pray who is more fitterer to be
not by,                                      trusted?
Maj. S. I doubt not, Master Sneak.           Bruin. Hey-day! Why, the wench is beSneak. If you would but come one Thursday witch'd: come, come, let's have none of your palnight to our club, at the Nag's-head in the Poul- aver here.-Take twelve-pence and pay the watertry, you would meet some roaring, rare boys, man.-But first see if he has broke none of the
i'faith; there's Jemmy Perkins, the packer; little pipes:-and, d'ye hear, Jane, be sure to lay the
Tom Simkins, the grocer; honest Master Muzzle, fishing-rod safe.      [Exit MRS. BRUIN.
the midwife-                                   Sneak. Odds me, how finely she's managed!
Maj. S. A goodly company.                  what would I give to have my wife as much under!
Sneak. Ay, and then sometimes we have the   Bruin. It is all your own fault, brother Sneak.
choice spirits from Comus' court, and we crack    Sneak. D'ye think so? She is a sweet pretty
jokes, and are so jolly and funny. I have learnt creature.
myself to sing " An old woman clothed in gray;"-:  * An alteration in this sentence is generally made
but I durst not sing out loud, because my wife to introduce a comic song, for which see p. 195.




192                  THE MAYOR OF GARRATT.                                    [ACTr I.
Bruin. A vixen.                              1 Mob. Hear neighbour Heeltap.
Sneak. Why, to say the truth, she does now    2 Mob. Ay, ay, hear Crispin.
and then hector a little; and, between ourselves,   3.lMob. Ay, ay, hear him, hear Crispin: he will
domineers like the devil. O Lord, I lead the life put us into the model of the thing at once.
of a dog. Why, she allows me but two shillings   Heel. Why then, silence! I say.
a week for my pocket.                          All. Silence!
Bruin. No!                                   Heel. Silence, and let us proceed, neighbours
Sneak. No, man;'tis she that receives and with all the decency and confusion usual upon
pays all: and then I am forced to trot after her these occasions.
to church, with her cardinal, pattens, and prayer-   1 Mob, Ay, ay, there is no doing without that.
book, for all the world as if I was still a'prentice.   All. No, no, no.
Bruin. Zounds! I would souse them all in the   Heel. Silence then, and keep the peace; what,
kennel.                                     is there no respect paid to authority: am not I the
Sneak. I durst not. And then at table, I never returning officer?
gets what I loves.                             All. Ay, ay, ay.
Bruin. The devil!                           Heel. Chosen by yourselves, and approved of
Sneak. No; she always helps me herself to by Sir Jacobh 
the tough drumsticks of the turkeys, and the   All. True, true.
damned fat flaps of shoulders of mutton. I don't   Heel. Well then, be silent and civil; stand back
think I have eat a bit of under-crust since we have there, that gentleman without a shirt, and make
been married. You see, brother Bruin, I am al- room for your betters. Where's Simon Snuffle,
most as thin as a lath.                     the sexton?
Bruin. An absolute skeleton!                 Snuffle. Here.
Sneak. Now, if you think I could carry my   Heel. Let him come forward; we appoint him
point, I would so swinge and leather my lambkin; our secretary: for Simon is a scollard, and can
Jod, I would so curry and claw her!        read written hand; and so let him be respected
Bruin. By the lord Harry, she richlydeservesit. accordingly.
Sneak. Will you, brother, lend me a lift?   3 Mob. Room for Master Snuffle.
Bruin. Command me at all times.             Heel. Here, stand by me: and let us, neighSneak. Why then, I will verily pluck up a bours, proceed to open the premunire of the thing:
spirit; and the first time she offers to     but first, your reverence to the lord of the manor:
Mrs. S. LWithout.] Jerry, Jerry Sneak!    a long life and a merry one to our landlord, Sir
Sneak.'Gad's my life, sure as a gun that's her Jacob! Huzza!
voice: lookye, brother, I don't choose to breed a.Mob. Huzza!
disturbance in another body's house; but as soon   Sneak. How fares it, honest Crispin?
as ever I get home-                            Heel. Servant, Master Sneak. Let us now
Bruin. Now is your time.                  open the premunire of the thing, which I shall do
Sneak. No, no; it would not be decent.    briefly, with all the loquacity possible; that is, in
Mrs. S. [Without.] Jerry! Jerry!         a medium way; which, that we may the better do
Sneak. I come, lovy. But you will be sure to it, let the secretary read the names of the candistand by me?                                dates, and what they say for themselves; and then
Bruin. Trot, nincompoop.                  we shall know what to say of them. Master
Sneak. Well, if I don't-I wish-           Snuffle, begin.
Mrs. S. [Without.] Where is this lazy puppy    Snuffle. [Reads.] " To the worthyinhabitants
a-loitering                                 of the ancient corporation of Garratt.  GentleSneak. I come, chuck, as fast as I can. Good men, your votes and interests are humblyrequeskLord, what a sad life do I lead!     [Exit. ed inrfavour of Timothy Goose, to succeed our
Bruin. Ex quovis linguo: who can make a late worthy mayor, Mr. Richard Dripping, in the
silk purse of a sow's ear'                 said office, he being-"
Heel. This Goose is but a kind of gosling, a
sort of sneaking scoundrel. Who is he?
Sir J. Come, son Bruin, we are all seated at   Snufle. A journeyman tailor from Putney,
table, man; we have but just time for a snack;   Heel. A journeyman tailor! A rascal, has he
the candidates are near upon coming.        the impudence to transpire to be mayor?  D'ye
Bruin. A poor, paltry, mean-spirited.-Damn consider, neighbours, the weight of this office?
it, before I would submit to such a-        Why, it is a burden for the back of a porter; and
Sir J. Come come, man; don't be so crusty.   can you think that this cross-legg'd, cabbage-eatBruin. I follow, Sir Jacob. Damme, when ing son of a cucumber, this whey-faced ninny,
once a man gives up his prerogative, he might as who is but the ninth part of a man, has strength
well give up-But, however, it is no bread and to support it?
butter of mine.-Jerry! Jerry!-Zounds, I   1 Mlob. No Goose! no Goose!
would Jerry and jerk her too.        [Exit.   2  ob. A Goose!
ACT II.                      Heel. Hold your hissing, and proceed to the
next.
SCENE I.                      Snuffle. [Reads.] " Your votes are desiredfor
Matthew Mug."
SIR JACOB JOLLUP, MAJOR STURGEON, BRUIN,   Moba    A Mug! a Mug!
MRS. BRUIN, JERRY SNEAK, and MRS. SNEAK,   Heel Oh, oh, what you are all ready to have a
discovered on SIR JAcoa'garden we all                                   readynter  touch    have a
MO   ith HEELTAP at their head s i   touch of the tankard! but fair and soft, good
a Goose, others a Mug, and others a    gPrimmer neighbours, and, unless I am mistaken, you will
Pc,  te s!  find him a  damned bitter draught.
Heel. Silence, there; silence!              1 Mob. A Mug! a Mug!




SCENE I.]             THE MAYOR OF GARRATT.                                       193
2 Mob. Hear him; hear Master Heeltap.      Mlrs. B. No!
1 3Mob. A Mug! a Mug!                       Sir J. And what's your objection?
Heel. Harkee, you fellow, withyour mouth full   Bruin. Why, I was never over-fond of your
of mug, let me ask you a question: bring him  Maygames: besides, corporations are too serious
forward. Pray is not this Matthew Mug, a vic- things; they are edge-tools, Sir Jacob.
tualler                                        Sir J. That they are frequently tools, I can
3 Mob. I believe he may.                  readily grant: but I never heard much of their
Heel. And lives at the sign of the Adam and edge.
Eve.                     Mrs. B. Well now, I protest I am pleased with
3 IMob. I believe he may.                 it mightily.
Heel. Now answer upon your honour, and as   Bruin. And who the devil doubts it?  You
you are a gentleman, what is the present price of women folks are easily pleased.
a quart of home-brewed at the Adam and Eve?  Mrs. B. Well, I like it so well, that I hope to
3 lAob. I don't know.                     see one every year.
Heel. You lie, sirrah: an't it a groat      Bruin. Do you?  Why then you will be
3 Mob. I believe it may.                  damnably bit; you may take your leave, I can tell
Heel. Oh, maybe so. Now, neighbours, here's you: for this is the last you shall see.
a pretty rascal; this same Mug, because, d'ye see,   Sir J. Fie, Nr. Bruin, how can you be such a
state affairs would not jog glibly without laying a bear? Is that a manner of treating your wife.
farthing a quart upon ale, this scoundrel, not con-   Bruin. What, 1 suppose you would have me
tented to take things in a medium way, has had such a snivelling sot as your son-in-law Sneak, to
the impudence to rise it a penny.            truckle and cringe, to fetch and toMob. No Mug! no Mug!
Heel. So, I thought I should crack Mr. Mug.   Re-enter JERRY SNEAK, in a violent hurry.
Heel. So, I thought I should crack Mr. Mug,
Come, proceed to the next, Simon.              Sneak. Where's brother Bruin   O Lord!
Snuffle. The next upon the list is Peter Prim- brother, I have such a dismal story to tell you.
mer, the schoolmaster.                        Bruin. What's the matter.
Heel. Ay, neighbours, and a sufficient man:   Sneak. Why, you know I went into the garden
let me tell you, Master Primmer is the man for to look for my vife and the major, and there I
my money; a man of learning, that can lay down hunted and hunted as sharp as if it had been for
the law; why, adzooks, he is wise enough to one of my own minikins; but the deuce a major
puzzle the parson: and then, how you have heard or madam could I see; at last, a thought came
him oration at the Adam and Eve, of a Saturday into my head to look for them up in the summernight, about Russia and Prussia.'Ecod, George house.
(4age the exciseman is nothing at all to un.  Bruin. And there you found them?
4 Mob. A Primmer!                           Sneak. I'll tell you: the door was locked; and
Heel. Ay, if the folks above did but know him. then I looked through the key-hole: and there,
Why, lads, he will make us all statesmen in time. Lord ha' mercy upon us! [ Whispers.] as sure
o2 MIob. Indeed!                          as a gun.
Heel. Why he swears as how, all the miscar-   Bruin. Indeed! Zounds, why did not you
riages are owing to the great people's not learning break open the door?
to read.                                      Sneak. I durst not. What, would you have
3 -Mob. Indeed!                          me set my wit to a soldier?  1 warrant the major
Heel. "For," says Peter,, says he, "if they would have knocked me down with one of his
would but once submit to be learned by me, there boots.
is no knowing to what a pitch the nation might   Bruin. Very well! Pretty doings! you see,
rise."                                      Sir Jacob, these are the fruits of indulgence. You
1 Mob. Ay, I wish they would.             may call me a bear, but your daughter shall never
Sneak. Crispin, what is Peter Primmer a can- make me a beast.           [MOB huzzas.
didate.                                      Sir J. Hey-dey! What, is the election over
Heel. He is, Master Sneak.                already?
Sneak. Lord, 1 know him, mun, as well as my      Re-enter CRISPITN HEELTAP, 4(C.
mother: why, I used to go to his lectures to Pewterers'.hall,'long with deputy Firkin.       Heel. Where is Master Sneak 
Heel. Like enough.                          Sneak. Here, Crispin.
Sneak. Odds me, brother Bruin, can you tell   Heel. The ancient corporation of Garratt, in
me what is become of my vife?              consideration of your great parts and abilities, and
Bruin. She is gone off with the major.    out of respect to their landlord, Sir Jacob, have
Sneak. Mayhap to take a walk in the garden. unanimously chosen you mayor.
I will go and take a peep at what they are doing.   Sneak. Me! huzza! Good Lord, who would
[Exit. have though it? But how came Master Primmer
Mob. [Without.] Huzza!                    to lose it? 
Heel. Gad-so! the candidates are coming.    Heel. Why, Phil Fleam had told the electors,
[Exeunt MOB, L4C. that Master Primmer was an Irishman; and so
they would none of them give their vote for a
Re-enter SIR JACOB JOLLUP, BRUIN, and MRS. foreigner.
BRUIN, through the garden gate.         Sneak. So then I have it for certain: huzza!
gir J. Well,'son Bruin, how d'ye relish the Now, brother Bruin, you shall see how  I'll
oorporation of Garratt?                     manage my madam.'ad, I'll make her know
Bruin. Why; lookye, Sir Jacob, my way is al- I am a man of authority; she shan't think to omul
ways to speak what I think: I don't approve on't lock and domineer over me.
at all.                                       Mrs. S. [Without.] Jerry! Jerry!
VOL.I.... 2 B.      17




194                 THE MAYOR OF GARRATT.                                     [ACTII,.
Bruin. Now for it, Sneak; the enemy's at   Sneak. Nay, brother Bruin, she has had werry
hand.                                       good proffers, that is certain.     [Apart.
Sneak. You promise to stand by me, brother   Mrs. S. My last legs!-but I can rein my pas
Bruin           -. "i                       sion no longer; let me get at the villain.
Bruin. Tooth and nail.                      Bruin. 0 fie, sister Sneak.
Sneak. Then now for it; I am ready, let her   Sneak. Hold her fast.            [Apart.
come when she will.                           Mrs. S. Mr. Bruin, unhand me; what, is it
you that have stirred up these coals then? He is
Re-enter MRs. SNEAK.             set on by you to abuse me.
Bruin. Not I; I would only have a man behave
Mrs. S. Where is the puppy  like a man
Sneak. Yes, yes, she is axing for me.       Mrs. S. What, and you are to teach him, I
Mrs. S. So, sot; what, is this true that I hear   warrant. But here comes the major.
Sneak. May be'tis, may be tan't; [ don't
choose to trust my affairs with a voman.-  Is        Re-enter MAJOR STURGEON.
that right, brother Bruin?.        [Apart.
Bruin. Fine! don't bate her an inch. [Apart. Oh, major! such a riot and rumpus! Like a man,
Sneak. Stand by me.              [Apart. indeed! I wish people would mind their own
Mrs. S. Hey-day! I am amazed! Why, what affairs, and not meddle with matters that does not
is the meaning of this?  concern them:-but all in good time; I shall one
Sneak. The meaning is plain; that I am grown day catch him alone, when he has not his bullies
a man, and vil do what I please, without being to back him.
accountable to nobody.                        Sneak. Adod, that's true, brother Bruin: what
Mrs. S. Why, the fellow is surely bewitched.  shall [ do when she has me at home, and nobody
Sneak. No, I am unwitched, and that you shall by but ourselves?              [Apart.
know to your cost; and since you provoke me, I   Bruin. If you get her once under, you may do
will tell you a bit of my mind; what, I am the with her whatever you will.
husband, I hope?                             M1aj. S. Lookye, Master Bruin, I don't know
Bruin. That's right; at her again.  [Apart. how this behaviour may suit with a citizen; but
Sneak. Yes, and you sha'nt think to hector and were you an officer, and Major Sturgeon upon
domineer over me as you have done; for I'll go to your court-martialthe club when I please, and stay out as late as I   Bruin. What then?
list, and row in a boat to Putney on Sundays, and  M.aj. S. Then? why then you would be broke.
wisit my friends at Vitsontide, and keep the key of   Bruin. Broke! and for what 
the till, and help myself at table to vhat wittles I   Maj. S. What! read the articles of war. But
like; and I'll have a bit of the brown.     these things are out of your spear; points of
Bruin. Bravo, brother Sneak, the day's your honour. are for the sons of the sword.
own.                                [Apart.   Sneak. Honour! if you come to that, where
Sneak. An't it?  Vhy, I did not think it vas in  was your honour when you got my vife in the
me. Shall I tell her all I know?   [Apart. garden?
Bruin. Every thing. You see she is struck    Maj. S. Now, Sir Jacob, this is the curse of
dumb.                               [Apart. our cloth: all suspected for the faults of a few.
Sneak. As an oyster. [Apart.] Besides, Ma-   Sneak. Ay, and not without reason. I heard
dam, I have something furder to tell you:'ecod, of your tricks at the King of Bohemy, when you
if some folks go into gardens with majors, mayhap was campaigning about, I did. Father Sir Jacob,
other people may go into garrets with maids.-    he is as wicious as an old ram.
There, I gave it her home, brother Bruin. [Apart..   Maj. S. Stop whilst you are safe, Master Sneak;
Mrs. S. Why, noodle! jackanapes! harkye, for the sake of your amiable lady, I pardon what
who am I?                                  is past-but for you-             [To BRUIN.
Sneak. Come, don't go to call names. Am I?   Bruin. Well.
vhy, my vife, and I am your master.           Maj. S. Dread the whole force of my fury.
Mrs. S. My master! you paltry, puddling    Bruin. Why, lookye, Major Sturgeon, I don't
puppy! you sneaking, shabby, scrubby, snivelling much care for your poppers and sharps, because
whelp!                                      why, they are out of my way; but if you will
Sneak. Brother Bruin, don't let her come near doff with your boots, and box a couple of boutsme.                                 [Apart.   Maj. S. Box! box!-Blades! bullets! bag-shot!
-Mrs. S. Have I, sirrah, demeaned myself to wed    AIrs. S. Not for the world, my dear major; oh,
such a thing, such a reptile as thee? Have I not risk not so precious a life. Ungrateful wretches!
made myself a by-word to all my acquaintance?  and is this the reward for all the great feats he
Don't all the world cry, Lord, who would have has done? After all his marchings, his sousings,
thought it  Miss Molly Jollup to be married to his sweatings, his swimmings, must his dear
Sneak; to take up at last with such a noodle as he? blood be spilt by a broker?
Sneak. Ay, and glad enough you could catch    Maj. S. Be satisfied, sweet Mrs. Sneak; these
me; you know you was pretty near your last legs. little fracasas we soldiers are subject to; trifles,
fMrs.. Was there ever such a confident cur? bagatailes, Mrs. Sneak. But, that matters may
My last legs! Why, all the country knows I be conducted in a military manner, I will get our
could have picked and choosed where I would. chaplain to pen me a challenge. Expect to hear
Did not I refuse'Squire Ap-Griffith from Wales? from my adjutant.          [To BRUIN.
Did not Counsellor Crab come a courting a twelve-   Mrs. S. Major! Sir Jacob! what, are you all
month? Did not Mr. Wort, the great brewer of leagued against his dear life? A man! yes, a very
Brentford, make an offer that I should keep my manly action indeed, to set marridd people a
post-chay?                                 quarrelling, and ferment a difference between hus



rsENE I.]               THE MAYOR OF GARRATT.                                            195
hand and wife: if you were a man, you would   In the character of Jerry Sneak, it has been usual to
not stand by and see a poor woman beat and  introduce the followingcomicsong, of
abused by a brute, you would not.
Sneak. 0 Lord, I can hold out no longer, why,
brother Bruin, you have set her a veeping.  My    When I was a lad, my fortune was had,
life, my lovy, don't veep: did I ever think I should  y grandfather Idid lose,;
have made nmy Molly to veep q?::         I'll bet you a can, you have heard of the man,
Mrs. S. Last legs! you lubberly-                   His name it was Robinson Crusoe.
[Strikes him.
Sir J. Oh, fie) Molly!him.                               Oh! poor Robinson Crusoe,
AirsS.Waaeyuleagued against me,                 Tinky ting tang, tinky ting tang,
Mlrs. S. What, are you leagued against me,                Oh! poor Robinson Crusoe.
Sir Jacob?
Sir J. Pr'ythee, don't expose yourself before.   You've read in a book of a voyage he took,
the whole parish.  But what has been the occa-      While the raging whirlwinds blew so;
sion of this?                                    That the ship with a shock fell plump on a rock,
MIrs. S. Why, has not he gone and made him-      Near drowning poor Robinson Crusoe.
self the fool of the fair? Mayor of Garratt, in-.       Oh! poor, cc.
deed! ecod, I could trample him under my feet.
Sneak. Nay, why should you grudge me my    Poor soul! none but he escap'd on the sea,
purfarment 2                                        Ah! Fate. Fate! how could you do so;
Mrs. S. Did you ever hear such an oaf 1 Why'Till at length he was thrown on an island unknown
thee wilt be pointed at wherever thee goest.        Which receivedpoor Robinson Crusoe.
Lookye, Jerry, mind what I say; go get'em: to              Oh  poor, 4c,
choose somebody else, or never come near me   But he sav'd from on board a gun and a sword,
again..                                          And another old matter or two, so; 
Sneak. What shall I do, father Sir:Jacob?: -.  That by dint of hiszthrift he:manag'd to shiftf 
Sir J. Nay, daughter, you take this thing in     Pretty wellUfor poor Robinson &Crusoe.:..too serious a light; my honest neighbours thought           Oh  poor 4c.
to compliment me: but come, we'll settle, the
business at once. Neighbours, my son Sneak.   He wanted something to eat, andcouldn'tgetmeat,:
being seldom amongst us, the duty will never be     The cattle away from him flew so;
done; so we will get our honest friend, Heeltap,   That but for his gun he'd been sorely undone,
to execute the office: he is, I think, every way    And starv'd, would poor Robinson Crusoe.
qualified.                                                  Oh I poor, 4;c.
Mob. A Heeltap! 
Heel. What, do you mean as Master Jeremy's   And he happen'd to save from the merciless wave
deputy?                                            A poor parrot, Iassure you'tis true, so;
Sir J. Ay, ay, his locum tenens.                That, when he came homefrom a wearisome roam,
Sneak. Do, Crispin, do be my locum tenens.        Us'd to cry out, poor Robinson Crusoe.
Heel. Give me your hand, Master Sneak, and                Oh! poor, 4fc.
to oblige you 1.will be. the locum tenens.......::
Sir J. So, that is settled: but now to heal the.Then he got   tgeth  at eve he could,
other breach: come, -major, the gentlemen of your   And he stuck it together with glue, so;
cloth seldom bear malice; let me: interpose be-    The  ad h         uinwhche       gt 
twee  you and my son.......The carcass of Robinson Crusoe.
twee. you and my son.
Maj. S. Your son-in-law, Sir Jacob, does de-              Oh! poor,.4c.
serve a castigation; but on recollection, a cit   While his man Friday kept the house snug and tray,
would but sully my arms. I forgive him.             Tobe sure'ws hs  iness to do so,
5.,y..         v.        To'be sure'twas his business to do so,
Sir J. That s right. As a token of amity,   They iv' d friendly together, less like servant than
and to celebrate our feast, let us call in the fiddles.:   neighbour,
Now if the major had but his shoes, he might        Liv'd Friday and Robinson Crusoe.
join in a country dance.
Maj. S. Sir Jacob, no shoes; a major must be! poor, c
never out of his boots; always ready for action.   Then he wore a large cap, and a coat without nap,
Mrs. Sneak will find me lightsome enough.           And a beard as long as a Jew, so,
Sneak. What, are all the vomen engaged?    That, by all that's civil, he look'd like a devil
why then my locum  tenens and I will jig to-        More than poorRobinson Crusoe.- ~.
gether. Forget and forgive, major.      -                   Oh! poor, 4c.
Iaj. S. -Freely.::
Nor be it said, that after all my toil,      At length, within hail, he saw a stout sail,
I stain'd my regimentals: by a broil. -: -:   And he took. to his little canoe, so;
To you I dedicate boots,sword, and shield,    When he reach'd the ship, they gave him a trip,
Sir J. As harmless in the chamber as the field.  Back to England brought Robinson Crusoe.
[Exeunt.              Oh  poor, 4c.




BARBAROSSA:
A TRAG D,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY DR. BROWNE.
REMARKS.
THE advantage of Garrick in Achmet, and Mossop in Barbarossa, when this play first appeared in 1755, contri
bated more to its success than the invention of the author, who has evidently borrowed his design from other
dramatic productions; particularly, from the tragedy of.Jerope, and in some delineations of character from
Ta7nerlane and the.Morning Bride.
Master Betty made his first appearance before a London audience, in the interesting character of Achmet, in
this play; and was received with loud laughter, which ended in tumultuous applause at his surprising ability and
genuine grace.
It is here correctly given, as then performed.
KAMATIS PERSONAL
COVENT GARDEN, 1803.                            COVENT GARDEN, 1803
ACHMET,.......                 Master Betty. -HASSAN.....                     Mr. Atihns.
BARBAROSSA,.................,.M.   Hargrave.
OTHMAN............   Mr. Murray.    ZAPHIRA,........Mrs. Litchfield.
SADI.............Mr. Creswell. IRENE,.................... Miss Brunton
ALADIN,......,.Mr. Chapman.   SEMIRA,................... Mrs. Gaudr9,
YUSEr.....    Mr. Abbot.
Officers, Attendants, Soldiers, &c.
SCENE.-The Royal Palace of Algiers.
ACT I.                     I      ~AEnter SADI.
Ahi Sadi here!
SCSIR'VE  l —An Apartment in the Palace.    My honoured friend!
Sadi. Stand off-pollute me not:
Enter OTHMAN and a SLAVE.              These honest arms, though worn with want, disdain
Oth. A stranger, say'st thou, that inquires of Thy gorgeous trappings, earned by foul dishonour.
Othman.                       Oth. Forbear thy rash reproaches; for beneath
SlWave.  He does; and waits admittance. -      his habit, which to thy mistaken eye
Oth. Did he tell                             Confirms my guilt, I wear a heart as true
His name and quality!                           As Sadi's to my king.
Slave. That he declined:                        Sadi. Why then beneath
But call'd himself thy friend.                  This cursed roof, this black usurper's palace,
Oth. Conduct the stranger to me.             Dar'st thou to draw infected air, and live
[Exit SLAVE. The slave of insolence!
Perhaps some worthy citizen, returned           O shame to dwell
From voluntary exile, to Algiers,               With murder, lust, and rapine! did he not
Once knwn in happier days.                     Come from the depths of Barea's solitude,
196




SCENE I.]                       B A R B A R O S S A.                               197
With fair pretence of faith and firm alliance?    His royal blood,
Did not our grateful king, with open arms,   The life-blood of his people, o'er the bath
Receive him as his guest? O fatal hour!    Ran purple! Oh, remember! and revenge!
Did he not then with hot, adult'rous eye,      Oth. Doubt not my zeal. But haste, and seek
Gaze on the Queen Zaphira? Yes,'twas lust,          our friends.
Lust gave th' infernal whisper to his soul,  Near to the western port Almanzor dwells,
And bade him murder, if he would enjoy!      Yet unseduc'd by Barbarossa's power.
Yet thou, pernicious traitor, unabash'd      He will disclose to thee, if aught be heard
Canst wear the murderer's badge.             Of Selim's safety, or (what more I dread)
Oth. Mistaken man!                       Of Selim's death. Thence best may our resolves
Yet still I love thee:                       Be drawn hereafter. But let caution guide thee.
Still unprovok'd by thy intemperate zeal,      Sadi. I obey thee.
Could passion prompt me to licentious speech,    Near to the western port, thou say'st?
Bethink thee-might I not reproach thy flight   Oth. Even there.
With the foul names of fear and perfidy?    Close by the blasted palm-tree, where the mosque
Didst thou not fly, when Barbarossa's sword  O'erlooks the city. Haste thee hence, my friend.
Reek'd with the blood of thy brave countrymen? I would not have thee found within these walls.
What then did I?-Beneath this hated roof,                                    [Flourish.
In pity to thy widow'd queen-                And hark-these warlike sounds proclaim  the
Sadi. In pity?                                     approach
Oth. Yes, Sadi! Heaven is witness, pity sway'd Of the proud Barbarossa, with his train.
me.                                 BegoneWith honest guile I did enrol my name          Sadi. May dire disease and pestilence
In the black list of Barbarossa's friends:   Hang o'er his steps!-Farewell- Remember,
In hope, that some propitious hour might rise,       Othman,
When heaven would dash the murderer from his Thy queen's, thy prince's, and thy country'swrong.
throne,                                                                   [Exit.
4nd give young Selim to his orphan'd people.   Oth. When I forget them be contempt my lot!
Sadi. Indeed! canst thou be true                Enter BRBRO            Guards 
Oth. By heaven, I am.
0th. By heaven, I am.                            Enter BARBAROSSA, Guards, Tic.
Sadi. Why then dissemble thus?              Bar. Valiant Othman,
Oth. Have I not told thee.               Are those vile slaves impal'd?
I held it vain, to stem the tyrant's power,    Oth. My lord, they are.
By the weak efforts of an ill-tim'd rage.      Bar. Did not the rack extort confession from
Sadi. I find thee honest; and with pride          them?
Will join thy counsels.                        Oth. They died obdurate: while the melting
Can aught, my friend, be done?                      crowd
Can aught be dar'd Q                         Wept at their groans and anguish.
Oth. We groan beneath the scourge.           Bar. Curse on their womanish hearts!
This very morn, on false pretence of vengeance   But why sits
For the foul murder of our honour'd king,    That sadness on thy brow? for oft I find thee
Five guiltless wretches perish'd on the rack.  Musing and sad; while joy for my return,
Sadi. 0 my devoted country!                My sword victorious, and the Moors o'erthrown,
But say, the widow'd queen-my heart bleeds for Resounds through all my palace.
her.                                   Oth. Mighty warrior!
Oth. Hemm'd round by terrors,             The soul, intent on offices of love,
Within this cruel palace, once the seat      Will oft neglect or scorn the weaker proof,
Of every joy, through seven long tedious years,  Which smiles or speech can give.
She mourns her murder'd lord, her exil'd son,  Bar. Well: be it so.
Her people fallen: the murderer of her lord,  To guard Algiers from anarchy's misrule,
Returning now from conquest o'er the Moors,    I sway the regal sceptre.
Tempts her to marriage; but with noble firmness, But'tis strange,
Surpassing female, she rejects his vows,     That when, with open arms, I would receive
Scorning the horrid union. Meantime he,      Young Selim; would restore the crown, whith
With ceaseless hate, pursues her exil'd son,         death
The virtuous youth, even into foreign climes.    Reft from his father's head —he scorns my bounty,
Ere this, perhaps, he bleeds. A murd'ring ruffian And proudly kindles war in foreign climes,
Is sent to watch his steps, and plunge the dagger Against my power, who sav'd his bleeding country.
Into his guiltless breast.
Sadi. Is this thy faith!                                 Enter ALADIN.
Tamely to witness to such deeds of horror!    Aladin. Brave prince, I bring thee tidings
Give me thy poignard? lead me to the tyrant.    Of high concernment to Algiers and thee.
What though surrounding guards-             Young Selim is no more.
0th. Repress thy rage.                       Oth. Selim no more!
Thou wilt alarm the palace, wilt involve       Bar. Why that astonishment?
Thyself, thy friend, in ruin. Haste thee hence; He was our bitterest foe.
Haste to the remnant of our loyal friends.     Oth. So perish all thy causeless enemies f
And let maturer councils rule thy zeal.        Bar. How died the prince, and where?
Sadi. Yet let us ne'er forget our prince's wrongs:   Aladin. The rumour tells
Remember, Othman, (and let vengeance rse)    That, flying to Oran, he tnere begg'd succouri
How in the pangs of death, and in his gore  From Ferdinand of Spain, t' invade Algiers.
Welt'ling, we found our prince!               Bar. From Christian dogs!
17*




i98                              -BARBAROSSA.                                     LACT
oth. How! league with infidels!             Each: purpose of my soul? Why these sullen
Aladin. And there held council with the haugh-      tears?
ty Spaniard,                            Irene. Let not these tears offend my fathers
To conquer and dethrone thee; but in vain:             eye;
For in a dark encounter with two slaves,      They are the tears of pity. From the queen
Wherein the one fell by his youthful arm,     I come, thy suppliant.
Selim at length was slain.                      Bar. What wouldst thou urge'
Bar. Ungrateful boy!   -                      Irene. Thy dread return from war,
Oft have I courted him to meet my kindness;   And proffer'd love, have open'd every wound,
But still in vain; he shunn'd me like a pestilence; The soft and lenient hand of time had clos'd.
Nor could I e'er behold him, since the down   If ever gentle pity touch'd thy heart,
Cover'd his manly cheek.-How many years       Urge not thy harsh command
Numbered he?                                 To see her; her distracted soul is bent
Oth. I think, scarce thirteen when his father To mourn in solitude. She asks no more.
died,                                   Bar. She mocks my love. Had not war,
And now some twenty.                          And great ambition, call'd me from Algiers,
Bar. Othman, now for proof                  Ere this, my power had reach'd what she denies
Of undissembled service.-Well I know,         But there's a cause, which touches on my peace,
Thy long experienc'd faith hath placed thee high  And bids me brook no more her false delays.
In the queen's confidence:. Irene. Oh, frown not thus!  Sure, pity ne'er
Othman, she must be won.                               deserv'd
Plead thou my cause of love:                  A parent's frown! but look more kindly on me,
Make her but mine,                            Let thy consenting pity mix with mine
And such unsought reward shall crown thy zeal,  And heal the woes of weeping majesty.
As shall outsoar thy wishes.                  Unhappy queen!
Oth. Mighty king,                            Bar. What means that gushing tear?
Where duty bids, I go.                          Irene. Oh, never shall Irene taste of peace,:Bar. -Then haste thee, Othman,              While poor Zaphira mourns.
Ere yet the rumour of her son's decease         Bar. Dry up thy tears.  What'! damp the geHath reach'd her ear;                                  neral triumph,
Tell her, I come,borneon the wings of love!-    That echoes- through Algiers! which now shall
Haste —fly-I follow thee.     [Exit OTHMAN.            pierce
Now, Aladin,           -:   The vaulted heaven, as soon as fame shall spread
Now fortune bears us to the wish'd-for port:  Young Selim's death, my empire's bitterest foe.
This was the rock I dreaded. Dost not think     Irene. 0 generous Selim!            [ Weeps.
Th' attempt was greatly daring?                 Bar. Ah! there's more in this?
Aladin. Bold as needful.                    Tell me, Irene:-on thy duty, tell me,
What booted it, to cut the old serpent off,   Why, at this detested name of Selim,
While the young adder nested in his place?   Afresh thy sorrow streams?.
Bar. True: Algiers is mine,                   Irene. Yes, 1 will tell thee,
Without a rival.                              For he is gone, and dreads thy hate -no more;
Yet I wonder much,                            My father knows, that scarce five moons are past,
Omar ieturns not: Omar, whom I sent           Since the Moors seiz'd and sold me at Oran,On this high trust. I fear,'tis he hath fallen.    A hopeless captive in a foreign clime.
Didst thou not say, two slaves encounter'd Selim?   Bar. Too well I know, and rue the fatal day.
Aladin. Ay, two;'tis rumour'd so.          But what of this?
Bar. And that one fell?                      Irene. Oft have I told thee,
Aladin. Even so:-by Selim's hand; while his How, midst the throng, a youth appear'd: his eye
companion.                         Bright as the morning star.
Planted his happier steel in Selim's heart.     Bar. And was it Selim?
Bar. Omar, I fear, is fallen. From my right Did he redeem thee 
hand                                    Irene. With unsparing hand
I gpve Ahy signet to thetrusty:slave;  He paid th' allotted ransom: at his feet I wept,
Anhd bade: hini send it, aslthe certain pledge  Dissolv'd in tears of gratitude and joy.
Of Selim's death; if sickness or captivity,   But when I told my quality and birth,
Or:wayward fate, should thwart his quick return. He started at the name of Barbarossa;
Aladin.' The rumour yet is: -young; perhaps And thrice turn'd pale. Yet, with recovery mild,
-  foreruns... ".Go to Algiers," he cried;  "protect my mother,
The trusty slave's approach.                  And be to her what Selim is to thee."
Bar. We'll wait the event.                  Even such, my father, was the generous youth,
Meantime give out, that now the! widow'd queen  WVho, by' the hands of bloody men,
Hath dried hier tears, prepar'd to crown my love  Lies number'd with the dead.
By marriage rites; spread wide the flattering tale:   Bar. Amazement chills me!
For, if persuasion win not her consent,       Was this thy unknown friend conceal'd front me?
Power shall compel.                           False-faithless child!
This night my will devotes to feast and joy,  - Irene. Could gratitude do less 1       [me
For conquest o'er:the Moor. Hence, Aladin,    He said, thy wrath pursu'd him; thence conjur'd
And see the night-watch close the palace round.  Not to reveal his name.
Now to the queen.              [Exit ALADIN.   Bar. Thou treacherous maid!
To stoop to freedom from thy father's foe!
Enter IRENE..           Irene. Alas, my father!
1My waywarddaughter-Still with thyfollv thwart He never was thy foe.




SCER,,.                        -BAR BA R O;S:A.                                199
Bar. What! plead for Selim'              To kneel for liberty! and, oh! to whom'.
O cowarn! traitress to thy father's glory!  Even to the murderer of her lord and son!
Hence from my sight!                         O, perish first, Zaphira! yes, I'll die!
Beware thee; -shun the queen: nor taint her ear For what is life to me. my dear, dear lord!
With Selim's fate.-Yes she shall crown mylove; My hapless child!-yes, I will follow you.
Or by our prophet, she shall dread my power.   Oth. Wilt thou not see him, then?
[Exit.   Zaph. I will not, Othman;
Irene. Unhappy queen!                      Or if I do, with bitter imprecation,
To what new scenes of horror art thou doom'd!  More keen than poison shot from serpent's tongues,
She but entreats to die                     I'll pour my curses on him!
In her dear father's tent; thither, good queen,  Oth. Will Zaphira
My care shall speed thee, while suspicion sleeps.  Thus meanly sink in woman's fruitless rage,
What tho' my frowning father pour his rage   When she should wake revenge.
On my defenceless head; yet innocence          Zaph. Revenge?-O tell meShall yield her firm support, and conscious virtue Tell me but how? what can a helpless woman.
Gild all my days. Could I but save Zaphira,    Oth. Gain but the tyrant's leave, and reach thy
Let the storm beat; I'll weep and pray, till she,   father:
Bereft of her lov'd lord-of every joy bereft,  Pour thy complaints before him: let thy wrongs
Ind heaven forget,my father e'er was cruel.  Kindle his indignation to pursue
[Exit. This vile usurper, till unceasing war
ACT II.                    Blast his ill-gotten power.
Zaph. Ah, say'st thou, Othman?
SCENE I.-Another Apartment.           Thy words have shot like lightning through my
Enter ZAPHrA.                          frame;
And all my soul's on fire!-Thou faithful friend!
Zaph. When shall 1 be at peaceS  0 righteous Yes-with more gentle speech I'll soothhis prideHeaven.                             Regain my freedom; reach my father's tents;
Strengthen my fainting soul, which fain would There paint my countless woes. His kindling
rise,                                       rage
To confidence in thee! -But woes on woes     Shall wake the vallevs into honest vengeance:
O'erwhelm me! first- my husband-now my son! The sudden storm shall pour on Barbarossa;
Both dead!-both slaughter'd by the bloody hand And every glowing warrior steep his shaft
Of Barbarossa!                              In deadlier poison, to revenge my wrongs.
Enter OTHMAN.           Oth. There spoke the queen. But as thou
lov'st thy freedom,
0 faithful Othman!                          Touch not on Selim's death. Thy soul will kindle,
Our fears were true:-my Selim is no more!    And passion mount in flames that will consume
Oth. Has then the fatal secret reach'd thine ear?  thee.
Inhuman tyrant!                                Zaph. My murder'd son! Yes to revenge thy
Zaph. Strike him, Heaven, with thunder!            death,
Nor let Zaphira doubt thy Providence.        I'll speak a language which my heart disdains.
Oth.'Twas that we fear'd. Oppose not Hea-   Oth. Peace, peace! the tyrant comes: now in
ven's high will,                            jur'd queen,
Nor struggle with the tenfold chain of fate,  Plead for thy freedom, hope for just revenge,
That links thee to thy woes! Oh, rather yield,  And check each rising passion. [Exit OTHMAN,
And wait the happier hour, when innocence                Enter BA
Shall weep no more. My honour'd queen,
The king —                                     Bar. Hail, sovereign fair! in whom
Zaph. Whom styl'st thou king'.           Beauty and majesty conspire to charm!
Oth.'Tis Barbarossa.-                    Behold the conqu'ror.
Zaph. Tyrant!                                Zaph. 0 Barbarossa!
Does he assume the name of king?           No more the pride of conquest e'er can charm
Oth. He does.                             My widow'd heart. With my departed lord
Zaph. 0 title vilely purchas'd! by the blood   My love lies buried.
Of innocence! by treachery and murder!     Then turn thee to some happier fair, whose heart
May Heaven, incens'd, pour down its vengeance May crown thy growing love with love sincere;
on him,                             For I have none to give.
Blast all his joys, and turn them into horror;  Bar. Love ne'er should die:
Till frenzy rise, and bid him curse the hour'Tis the soul's cordial;-'tis the fount of life;
That gave his crimes their birth! My faithful Therefore should spring eternal in the breastOthman,                             One subject lost, another should succeed;
My sole surviving comfort! can no means be found, And all our life be love.
To fly these black'ning horrors that surround me?   Zaph. Urge me no more: thou might'st with
Oth. That hope is vain! The tyrant knows           equal hope
thy hate.                           Woo the cold marble weeping o'er a tomb,
Hence, day and night, his watchful guards    To meet thy wishes! But, if gen'rous love
Surround thee. Rouse not then his anger;     Dwell in thy breast, vouchsafe me proof sincere:
Let soft persuasion-and mild eloquence       Give me safe convoy to the native vales
Redeem that liberty, which stern rebuke      Of dear Mutija, where ry father reigns.
Would rob thee of for ever.                    Bar. Oh, blind to pmffer'd bliss! what, fondly
Zaph. Cruel task!                                 quit
An injured-queen                             This pomp




200                             BARBARO SSA.                                   [ACT II.
Of empire, for an Arab's wand'ring tent,     No tyrant's threat can awe the free-born soul,
Where the mock chieftain leads his vagrant tribes That greatly dares to die.  [Exit ZAPHIRA
From plain to plain, and faintly shadows out   Bar. Where should she learn the tale of Selim'e
The majesty of kings!-Far other joys                death.
Here shall attend thy call.                  Could Othman dare to tell it?  If he did,
To thee, exalted fair! submissive realms     My rage shall sweep him, swifter than the whirl
Shall bow the neck; and swarthy kings and            wind,
queens,                              To instant death!From the far distant Niger and the Nile,
Drawn captive at my conq'ring chariot wheels,                Enter ALADIN.
Shall kneel before thee.
Zaph. Pomp and power are toys,             0 Aladin!
Which even the mind at ease may well disdain;  Timely thou com'st, to ease my labering thoughtr
But, ah! what mockery is the tinsel pride    That swells with indignation and despair.
This stubborn womanOf splendour, when, by wasting woes, the mind    Aladin. What, unconquerd still?
Lies desolate within;-such, such is mine!
O'erwhelm'd with ills, and dead to every joy;  Bar. The news of Selim's fate hath.reach'd her
Envy me not this last request, to die        Whene could this comear.
In my dear father's tents!                  Whence could this come!
Bar. Thy suit is vain —
inmydear.   faTher'us teints                 Aladin. I can resolve the doubt.
Zaph. Thus kneeling at thy feet-I do beseech        lave, attendant on Zaphira,
thee.                               O'erheard the messenger who brought the tale,
Bar. Thou thankless fair!                 And gave it to her ear.
Bar. Perdition seize her!
Thus to repay the labours of my love!          Bar. Perdition seize 
Had I not seiz'd the throne when Selim died,    Nor threats can move, nor promise now allure,
Ere this, thy foes had laid Algiers in ruin:  Her haughty soul: nay, she defies my power;
1 check'd the warring powers, and gave you peace. And talks of death, as if her female form
Make thee but mine,                         Inshrin'd some hero's spirit.
I will descend the throne, and call thy son    Aladin. Let her rage foam.
From banishment to empire.                   I bring thee tidings that will ease thy pain.
Zaph. Oh my heart!                          Bar. Say'st thou? —Speak on-O  give me
Can I bear this?-                                    quick relief 
Inhuman tyrant! Curses on thy head!            Aladin. The gallant youth is come, who slew
May dire remorse and anguish haunt thy throne,   Bar. Who, Omar
And gender in thy bosom fell despair!          Aladin. No; unhappy Oar 
Despair, as deep as mine!             -.Aladin. No; unhappy Omar fell
Despair, as deep as mine!
Bar., What means Zaphira 7                By Selim's hand. But Achmet, whom he join'd
WVhat means this burst of grief? qHis brave associate, so the youth bids tell thee,
Zaph. Thou fell destroyer       Reveng'd his death, by Selim's.
Zaph. Thou fell destroyer!
Bar. Gallant youth!
Had not guilt steel'd thy heart, awak'ning con-  Bears he the signeth 
science
Would flash conviction on thee, and each look,  Aladin. Ay.
Shot from these eyes, be arm'd with serpent hor-   Bar. That speaks him true.-Conduct him,
rors,                                        Aladin.               [Exit ALADIa
~rors6~~~,' ~This is beyond my hope. The secret pledge
To turn thee into stone!-Relentless man!    Restor'd
Who did the bloody deed'  Oh tremble, guilt,   Restor'd, prevents suspicion of the deed,
WVhile it confirms it done
Where'er thou art!-Look on me, —tell me, tyrant! e it confirms it done
Who slew my blameless son?'                Enter SELIM disguised as ACHMET, and A LADIN.
Bar. What envious tongue
Hath dar'd to taint my name with slander?     Selim. Hail, mighty Barbarossa! as the pledge
Thy Selim lives: nay more, he soon shall reign,                                  [Kneels.
If thou consent to bless me.                Of Selim's death, behold thy ring restor'd:Zaph. Never! Oh, never-Soonerwould I roam  That pledge will speak the rest.
An unknown exile through the torrid climes    Bar. Rise, valiant youth!
Of Afric, sooner dwell with wolves and tigers,   But first, no more a slave-1 give thee freedom.
Than mount with thee my murder'd Selim's Thou art the youth, whom Omar (now no more'
throne?                            Join'd his companion in this brave attempt?
Bar. Rash queen, forbear! think on thy captive   Selim. I am.
state;                                Bar. Then tell me how you sped.-Where
Remember, that within these palace walls             found ye
I am omnipotent:-yield thee then:           That insolent?
Avert my gathering horrors that surround thee,  Selim. We found him at Oran,
And dread the power incens'd.               Plotting deep mischief to thy throne and people.
Zaph. Dares thy licentious tongue pollute mine   Bar. Well ye repaid the traitor. —
ear                                   Selim. As we ought.
With that foul menace!-Tyrant, dread'st thou While night drew on, we leaptupon our prey.
not                                 Full at his heart brave Omar aim'd the poignard.
I'h' all-seeing eye of Heaven, its lifted thunder,  Which Selim shunning, wrench'd it from his hand
And all the redd'ning vengeance which it stores  Then plung'd it in his breast. I hasted on,
FPor crimes like thine?-Yet know, Zaphira scorns Too late to save, yet I reveng'd my friend:
thee.                               My thirsty dagger with repeated blows
though robb'd by thee of every dear support,    Search'd every artery: they fell together,




sCrtRE i.]                      BA RBARO   S A                                     201
Gasping in folds of mortal enmity;           Thou might'st as well bring the devoted lamb
And thus in frowns expir'd.                  Into the tiger's den.
Bar. Well hast thou sped:                    Selim. But I'll bring him
Thy dagger did its office, faithful Achmet!  Hid in such deep disguise, as shall deride
And high reward shall wait thee.-One thing  Suspicion, though she wear the lynx's eyes.
more-                                Not even thyself couldst know him.
Be the thought fortunate!-Go, seek the queen.    Oth. Yes, sure: too sure, to hazard such an
For know, the rumour of her Selim's death            awful trial.
Hath reach'd her ear: hence dark suspicions rise,   Selim. Yet seven revolving years, worn out
Glancing at me. Go, tell her, that thou saw'st   In tedious exile, may have wrought such change
Her son expire;-that, with his dying breath,    Of voice and feature, in the state of youth,
He did conjure her to receive my vows,       As might elude thine eye.
And give her country peace.                     Oth. No time can blot
The mem'ry of his sweet majestic mien,
Enter OTHMAN.                  The lustre of his eye! besides, he wears
Most welcome, Othman;                        A mark indelible, a beauteous scar,
Behold this gallant stranger. He hath done   Made on his forehead by a furious pard,
The state good service. Let some high reward    Which, rushing on his mother, Selim slew.
Await him, such as may o'erpay his zeal.       Selim. A scar!
Conduct him to the queen, for he hath news      Oth. Ay, on his forehead.
Worthy her ear, from her departed son;         Selim. What, like this! [Lifting his turban.
Such as may win her love-Come, Aladin,          Oth. Whom  do I see?-am  I awake' —mv
The banquet waits our presence;-festal joy           prince!                    [Kneels.
Laughs in the mantling goblet; and the night,   My honour'd, honour'd king!
Illumin'd by the taper's dazzling beam,        Selim. Rise faithful Othman:
Rivals departed day.                         Thus let me thank thy truth!  [Embraces him.
[Exeunt BARBAROSSA and ALADIN.   Oth. 0 happy hour!
Selim. What anxious thought                  Selim. Why dost thou tremble thus?  Why
Rolls in thine eye, and heaves thy lab'ring breast?   grasp my hand.
Why join'st thou not the loud excess of joy,  And why that ardent gaze?  Thou can'st not
That riots through the palace.                      doubt me!
Oth. Dar'st thou tell me,                    Oth. Ah, no! I see thy sire in every line. —
On what dark errand thou art here?          How did my prince escape the murd'rer's hand.
Selim. I dare.                               Selim. I wrench'd the dagger from him; and
Dost thou not perceive the savage lines of blood     gave back
Deform my visage? Read'st not in mine eye    That death he meant to bring. The ruffian wore
Remorseless fury?  I am Selim's murd'rer.   The tyrant's signet.-Take this ring, he cried,
Oth. Selim's murd'rer!                    The sole return my dying hand can make thee
Selim. Start not from me.                  For its accurs'd attempt: this pledge restor'd,
My dagger thirsts not but for regal blood-   Will prove thee slain. Safe may'st' thou see AlWhy this amazement?                                 giers,
Oth. Amazement! No-'tis well;'tis as it Unknown to all.-This said, th' assassin died.
should be-                             Oth. But how to gain admittance, thus unIle was indeed a foe to Barbarossa.                  known?
Selim. And therefore to Algiers. Was it not   Selim. Disguis'd as Selim's murderer I come:
so?                                 Th' accomplice of the deed: the ring restor'd,
Why dost thou pause?  What passion shakes Gain'd credence to my words.
thy frame 1                            Oth. Yet, ere thou cam'st, thy death was ru0th. Fate, do thy worst! I can no more dis-       mour'd here.
semble;                                Selim. I spread the flatt'ring tale, and sent it
Can I unmov'd behold the murd'ring ruffian,          hither;
Smear'd with my prince'sblood? Go, tell the ty- That babbling rumour, like a lying dream,
rant,                               Might make belief more easy. Tell me, Othman,
Othman defies his power; that, tired with life,   And yet I tremble to approach the theme,He dares his bloody hand, and pleads to die.  How fares my mother? does she still retain
Selim. What, didst thou love this Selim?  Her native greatness?
Oth. All men lov'd him.                      Oth. Still:-In vain the tyrant
He was of such unmix'd and blameless quality,  Tempts her to marriage, though with impious
That envy, at his praise, stood mute, nor dar'd      threats
To sully his fair name! Remorseless tyrant!    Of death or violation.
Selim. I do commend thy faith. And since    Selim. May kind Heaven
thou lov'st him,                     Strengthen her virtue, and by me reward it!
I'll whisper to thee, that with honest guile  When shall I see her, Othman?
I have deceiv'd this tyrant, Barbarossa:       Oth. Yet, my prince,
Selim is yet alive.                          I tremble for thy presence.
Oth. Alive!                                  Selim. Let not fear
Selim. Nay, more-                          Sully thy virtue:'tis the lot of guilt  [fear?
Selim is in Algiers.                         To tremble. What hath innocence to do with
Oth. Impossible!                             Oth. Still my heart
Selim. Nay, if thou doubt'st, I'll bring him hi- Forbodes some dire event.-O quit these wall!
ther, straight.                        Selim. Not till a deed be done, which every tyOth. Not for an empire!                    Shall tremble when he hears.           [rant
VOL. I..    C




202: BAR B AROSS SA.                                [Ac:
Oth  What means my prince?           [blood, It was his image!Selim. To take just vengeance for a father's This way, sure, he mov'd.
A mother's suffirings, and a people's groans.  But, oh, how chang'd! He: wears no gentle smiles,
Oth. Alas, my prince! thy single arm is weak But terror in his frown.  He comes.-'Tis he:To combatmultitudes.                           For Othman points him thither, and departs.
Selim. Therefore I come,                     Disguis'd, he seeks the queen: secure, perhaps,
Clad in this murd'rer's guise.-Eremorning shines, And heedless of the ruin that surrounds him.
This, Othman!-this-shall drink the tyrant's 0, generous Selim! can I see thee thus
blood.              [Shows a dagger. And notforewarnsuch virtue of its fate!
Oth.'Heaven shield thy life.-Let caution rule Forbid it, gratitude!
Thy zeal!
Selim. NIhay, think not that I come                          Enter SELIM.
Blindly impell'd by fury or despair:
For I have seen our friends, and parted now      Selim. Be still, ye sighs!
From Sadi and Almanzor.                        Ye struggling tears of filial love, be still.
0th. Say-what hope.          Down, down, fond heart!
My soul is all attention-                        Irene. Why, stranger, dost thou wander here'I
Selim. Mark me, then;                          Selim. Oh, ruin!            [Shunning her.
A chosen band of citizens this night             Irene. Bless'd is Irene! Bless'd, if Selim lives!
TWill storm the palace: while the glutted troops  Selim. Am I betray'd!
Lie drench'd in surfeit, the confed'rate city,   Irene. Betray'd to whom'  To her
Bold through despair, have sworn to break their Whose grateful heart would rush on death to save
chain                                         thee!
By one wide slaughter. 1, mean time, have gain'd    Selim. It was my hope
The palace, and will wait th' appointed hour,    That time had veil'd all semblance of my youth,
To guard Zaphira from the tyrant's rage,       And thrown the mask of manhood o'er my visage.
Amid the deathful uproar.                      Am I then known?
Oth. Heaven protect thee —                     Irene. To none, 1:At love and me-'Tis dreadful-what's the hour?                To me, who late beheld thee at Oran:
Selim. I left our friends                    Who saw thee here, beset with unseen peril,
In secret council. Ere the dead of night,      And flew to save the guardian of my honour.
Brave Sadi will report their last resolves.-     Selim. Thou sum of every worth! Thou heaNow lead me to the queen.-                             ven of sweetness!
Oth. Brave prince, beware!                  How could I pour forth all my soul before thee,
Her joy's or fear's excess, would sure betray thee. In vows of endless truth! It must not be!
Thou shalt not see her, till the tyrant perish!    This is my destin'd goal! The mansion drear,
Selim  1 must. -I feel some secret impulse urge Where grief and anguish dwell! where bitter tears,
me.                                   And sighs, and lamentations, choke the voice,
Who knows that'tis not the last parting interview  And quench the flame of love!
We ever shall obtain?                            Irene. Yet, virtuous prince,
0th. Then, on thy life,                      Though love be silent, gratitude may speak.
Do not reveal thyself-Assume the name          Hear, then, her voice, which warns thee from
Of Selim's friend; sent to confirm her virtue,          these walls.
And warn her that he lives.                    Mine be the grateful task, to tell the queen
Selim. It shall be so: I yield me to thy will.   Her Selim lives.  Ruin and death enclose thee.
Oth. Thou greatly daring youth! May angels 0, speed thee hence, while yet destruction sleeps'
watch,                                  Selim. Would it were possible'
And guard thy upright purpose! That Algiers    Irene. What can prevent it?
May reap the blessings of a virtuous reign,      Selim. Justice! Fate, and justice
And all thy godlike father shine in thee!      A murder'd father's wrongs I
Selim. Oh, thou hast rous'd a thought, on   Irene. Justice, said'stthou.
which revenge                [here,-  That word hath struck me, like a peal of thunder!
Mounts with redoubled fire!-Yes, here, even  Thine eye, which wont to melt with gentle love,
Beneath this very roof, my honour'd father     Now glares with terror! Thy approach by night
Shed round his blessings, till accursed treach'ry   Thy dark disguise, thy looks and fierce demeanour,
Stole on his peaceful hour! 0, blessed shade!    Yes, all conspire to tell me, I am lost!
[Kneels. Ah! prince, take heed! I have a father too!
If yet thou hover'st o'er thy once lov'd clime,  Think, Selim, what Irene must endure,
Nlow aid me to redress thy bleeding wrongs!    Should she be guilty of a father's blood.
Infuse thy mighty spirit in my breast,           Selim. Come on, then. Lead me to him. Glut
Thy firm and dauntless fortitude, unaw'd               thine eye
By peril, pain, or death! that, undismay'd,    With Selim's bloodI may pursue the just intent, and dare           Irene. Was e'er distress like mine!
Or bravely to revenge, or bravely die.  [Exeunt. O, Selim, can I see my father perish!
Quit, 0 quit these walls!
ACT III.                     Heaven will ordain some gentler, happier means,
To heal thy woes! Thy dark attempt is big
SCEIVE I.  The Palace.               With horror and destruction! Generous prince!
En~zter IRENE.                Resign thy dreadful purpose and depart!
Selim. May not I see Zaphira, ere I go?'
ntrc'e. Can air-drawn visions mock the waking  Thy gentle pity will not, sure, deny us
eve?                                 The mournful pleasure of a parting tear?




SCENE I]                          BAR BAROSS A.                                     203
Irene. Go, then, and give her peace. But fly   Zaphlt.- O, basely false!
these walls                           Thou art some creeping slave to Barbarossa,
As soon as morning shines. Else, though despair Sent to surprise my unsuspecting heart!
Drive me-to madness;-, yet-to save a father!    Vile slave begone!-My son betray me thus-!
0, Selim! spare try tongue the horrid sentence! Could he have e'er conceiv'd so base a purpose,
Fly! ere destruction seize thee.   [Exit IRENE. My griefs for him should end in great disdaini!Selim. Death and ruin!                     B-ut he was brave, and scorn'd a thought so vile!
Must I then fly 3 what! coward like, betray   Wretched Zaphira! How art thou become
My father, mother, friends-! Vain terrors, hence! The sport of slaves!Danger looks big to fear's deluded eye:          Selim. Yet hope: for peace, unhappy queen!
But courage, on the heights and steeps of fate,        Thy woes
Dares snatch her glorious purpose from the edge  May yet have end.
Of peril; and, while sick'ning caution shrinks,  Zaph. Why weep'st thou, crocodile?
Or, self-betray'd, falls headlong down the steep,   Thy treacherous tears are vain.
Calm resolution, unappall'd, can walk            Selim. My tears are honest.
The giddy brink, secure. Now to the queen.    I am not what thou think'st.
How shall I dare to meet her, thus unknown!     Zaph. What art thou then?
How stifle the warm transports of my heart,      Selim. Oh, my full heart!-I am-thy friend,
That pants at her approach!                            and Selim's.
Who waits Zaphira?                           I came not to insult, but heal thy woesNow check thy heart's wild tumult, while I tell
Enter a female SLAVE.                       theeSlave. Whence this intrusion, stranger: at an  Perhaps-thy sol. yet lives.
hour                                    Zaph. Lives!  O, gracious Heaven!
Destin'd -to rest?                            Do I not dream! say, stranger, —didst thou tell me,
Selim. I come to seek the queen,;           Perhaps my Selim lives — What do I ask?
On matter of such import, as may claim        Wild, wild; and fruitless hope!-What mortal
Her speedy audience.                                   power
Slave. Thy request is vain.                 Can e'er re-animate his mangled corse,
Even now the queen hath heard the mournful tale Shoot life into the cold and silent tomb,
Of her son's death, and drown'd in grief she lies. Or bid the ruthless grave give up its dead?
Thou canst not see her.                          Selim;. 0, powerful nature! thou wilt sure beSelim. Tell the queen, I come                        tray me!                      [Aside.
On message from her dear, departed son;       Thy Selim lives: for since his rumoux'd death,
And bring his last request.                   I saw him at Oran.
Slave. I'11 haste to tell her.      [Exit.   Zaph. O, generous youth, whoart thou 3-From
Selim. 0, ill-dissembling heart! my every limb       what clime
Trembles with grateful: terror!'Would to Heaven Comes such exalted virtue, as dares give
I had not come! Some look, or starting tear,  A pause to grief like mine't
Will sure betray me. Honest guile assist        Selim. A friendless youth, self-banish'd with
My falt'ring tongue!                                  thy son;: Enter ZAPHIRA.                Long his companion in distress and danger:
One who rever'd thy worth in prosp'rous days,
Zaph. Where is this pious stranger?        And more reveres thy virtue in distress.
Say. generous youth, whose pity leads thee thus    Zaph. 0, gentle stranger!-Mock not mywoes,
To seek-the weeping mansions of distress!     But tell me truly,-does my Selim live 2
Didst thou behold in death my hapless son?     Selim. He does, by Heaven!
Didst thou receive my Selim's parting breath?  Zaph. 0 generous Heaven! thou at length
Did he remember me 1                                   o'erpay'st
Selim. Most honour'd queen!                My bitterest pangs, if my dear Selim lives!
Thy son,-forgive these gushing tears that flow   And does he still remember
To see distress like thine!                   His father's wrongs, and mine.
Zaph. I thank thy pity!                       Selim. He bade me tell thee,'Tis generous thus- to feel for others' wo!-  That in his heart indelibly are stamp'd
What of my son?- Say, didst thou see him diet  His father's wrongs, and thine: that he but waits
Selim. By Barbarossa's dread command I come, Till awful justice may unsheath her sword,
To tell thee that these eyes alone beheld     And lust and murder tremble at her frown!
Thy son expire.                               That till the arrival of that happy hour,
Zaph. Relentless fate! —that I should be denied Deep in his soul the hidden fire shall glow,
The mournful privilege-to see him die!       And his breast labour with the great revenge!
To clasp him in the agony of death,             Zaph. Eternal blessings crown my virtuous son!
And catch his parting soul-  Oh, tell me all,   Selim. Much honour'd queen, farewell.
All that he said and look'd - Deep in my heart    Zaph. Not yet,-not yet;-indulge a mother's
That I may treasure every parting word,                love!
Each dying whisper of my dear, dear son!      In thee, the kind companion of his griefs,
Selim. Let not my words offend-what if he Methinks I see my Selim stand before me.
said,                                 Depart not yet. A thousand fond requests
Go, tell my hapless mother, that her tears    Crowd on my mind. Wishes, and prayers, and
Have stream'd too long: then bid her weep no          tears,
more:                                 Are all I have to give. 0, bear him these!
Bid her forget the husband and the son,         Selim. Take comfort, then; for know, thy son
In Barbarossa's arms!                                  o'erjoy'd




204                              BAR B A R    O S S A.                          [ACT III
To rescue thee, would bleed at every vein!-  Worthless were he to rule, who dares not claim
Bid her, he said, yet hope we may be bless'd!  Pre-eminence in danger. Urge no more:
Bid her remember that the ways of Heaven,    Here shall my station be; and, if I fall,
Though dark, are just: that oft some guardian  O, friends, let me have vengeance!-Tell me now,
power                                Where is the tyrant?
Attends, unseen, to save the innocent!          Oth. Revelling at the banquet.
But if high Heaven decrees our fall!-Oh bid her   Selim.'Tis good. Now tell me how our pow
Firmly to wait the stroke, prepar'd alike             ers are destin'd.
To live or die! and then he wept, as I do.      Sadi. Near every port, a secret band is posted'
Zaph. O, righteous Heaven!                By these, the watchful sentinels must perish:
Protect his tender years!                   The rest is easy; for the glutted troops
Be thou his guide through dangers and distress!  Lie drown'd in sleep.
Soften the rigours of his cruel exile,       Almanzor, with his friends, will circle round
And lead him to his throne!           [Exit. The avenues of the palace. Othman and I
Selim. Now, swelling heart,                Will join our brave confederates (all sworn
indulge the luxury of grief! flow, tears!  To conquer or to die,) and burst the gates
And rain down transport in the shape of sorrow! Of this foul den. Then. tremble, Barbarossa!
Yes, I have sooth'd her woes; have found her   Selim. Oh, how the approach of this great hour
noble:                               Fires all my soul! but, valiant friends, I charge
And, to have given this respite to her pangs,         you,
O'erpays all pain and peril!-Powerful virtue!   Reserve the murd'rer to my just revenge;
flow infinite thy joys, when even thy griefs  My poignard claims his blood.
Are pleasing!-Thou, superior to the frowns     Oth. Forgive me, prince!         [IreneOf fate, canst pour thy sunshine o'er the soul,    Forgive my doubts!-Think-should  the fair
And brighten wo to rapture!                   Selim. Thydoubts are vain. I would not spare
Enter OTHRiAN and SADI.the tyrant,
Though the sweet maid lay weeping at my feet;
[Honour'd friends!                           Nay, should he fall by any hand but mine,
How goes the night?                         By Heaven I'd think my honour'd father's blood
Sadi.'Tis well nigh midnight.             Scarce half reveng'd! My love, indeed, is strong!
Oth. What i in tears, my prince?          But love shall yield to justice!
Selim. But tears of joy: for I have seen Za-   Sadi. Gallant prince,
phira,                               Bravely resolv'd!i
And pour'd. the balm of peace into her breast:  Selim. But is the city quiet?
Think not these tears unnexve me, valiant friends;   Sadi. All, all, is hush'd.  Throughout the
They have but harmoniz'd my soul; and wak'd           empty streets,
All that is man within me, to disdain        Nor voice nor sound; as if th' inhabitants,
Peril, or death-What tidings from the city?  Like the presaging herds, that seek the covert
Sadi. All, all, is ready. Our confed'rate friends Ere the loud thunder rolls, had inly felt
Burn with impatience, till the hour arrive.  And shunn'd th' impending uproar.
Selim. What is the signal of theappointed hour  Oth. There is a solemn horror in the night, too,
Sadi. The midnight watch gives signal of our That pleases me; a general pause through nature:
meeting:                             The winds are hush'dAnd when the second watch of night is rung,     Sadi. And as I pass'd the beech,
The work of death begins.                    The lazy billow scarce could lash the shore:
Selim. Speed, speed, ye minutes!          No star peeps through the firmament of heavenNow let the rising whirlwind shake Algiers,     Selim. And lo! where eastward, o'er the sullen
And justice guide the storm! Scarce two hours        wave,
hence-                               The waning moon, depriv'd of half her orb,
Sadi. Scarce more than one.                Rises in blood: her beam, well nigh extinct,
Selim. Oh, as ye love my life,             Faintly contends with darkness-    [Bell tolls
Let your zeal hasten on the great event:     Hark-what meant
The tyrant's daughter found, and knew me here, That tolling bell?
And half suspects the cause.                   Oth. It sounds the midnight watch.
Oth. Too daring prince,                      Sadi. This was the signalRetire with us! her fears will sure betray thee!  Come, Othman, we are call'd: the passing minutes
Selim. What! leave my helpless mother here Chide our delay: brave Othman, let us hence.
a prey                                 Selim. One last embrace!-nor doubt, but
Tro cruelty and lust-I'll perish first:               crown'd with glory
This very night the tyrant threatens violence:    We soon shall meet again. But oh! rememberI'll watch his steps: I'll haunt him through the Amid the tumult's rage, remember mercy!
palace:                              Stain not a righteous cause with guiltless blood!
And, should he meditate a deed so vile,      Warn our brave friends, that we unsheath the
I'll hover o'er him, like an unseen pestilence,       sword,
And blast him in his guilt!                  Not to destroy, but save! nor let blind zeal,
Sadi. Intrepid prince!                     Or wanton cruelty, e'er turn its edge
Worthy of empire!-Yet accept my life,       On age or innocence! or bid us strike
My worthless life: do thou retire with Othman; Where the most pitying angel in the skies,
I will protect Zaphira.                      That now looks on us fromhis bless'd abode,
Selim. Think'st thou, Sadi,                Would wish that we should spare.'T'hat, when the trying hour of peril comes,    Oth. So may we prosper,
Selim will shrink into a common man!        As mercy shall direct us!




ecENE I.]                       BARBAR O S S A.                                   205
Selim. Farewell, friends!                   Aladin. I hasted to inform thee, that even now
Sadi. Intrepid prince, farewell!          Rounding the watch, I met the brave Abdallah,
[Exeunt OTHMAN and SADI. Breathless with tidings of a rumour dark,
Selim. Now sleep and silence              That young Selim is yet aliveBrood o'er the city.-The devoted sentinel     Bar. May plagues consume the tongue
Now takes his lonely stand, and idly dreams  That broach'd the falsehood!-'Tis not possibleOf that to-morrow he shall never see.       What did he tell thee further?
In this dread interval, O busy thought,       Aladin. More he said not;
From outward things descend into thyself!   Save only, that the spreading rumour wak'd
Search deep my heart! bring with thee awful A spirit of revolt.
conscience,                           Irene. 0, gracious father!
And firm resolve! that in th' approaching hour    Bar. The rumour's false-And yet, your cow.
Of blood and horror, I may stand unmov'd;            ard fears
Nor fear to strike where justice calls, nor dare    Infect me!-What!-shall I be terrified
To strike where she forbids!         [Exit. By midnight visions? —I'll not believe it.
Aladin. But this gathering rumourACT IV.                     Think but on that my lord.
SCENE I.-An Apartment in the Palace.        Bar. Infernal darkness
Swallow the slave that rais'd it!-Hark thee.
Enter IRENE and ALADIN.
Aladin,
Irene. But didst thou tell him, Aladin, my fears Find out this stranger, Achmet; and forthwith
Brook no delay.                            Let him be brought before me.
Aladin. I did.                                                     [Exeunt two guards.
Irene. Why comes he not?                    Irene. 0 my father!
Oh, what a dreadful dream!-'Twas sure-lv more I do conjure thee, as thou lov'st thy life,
Than troubled fancy: never was my soul      Retire, and trust thee to thy faithful guardsShook with such hideous phantoms!-Still he See not this Achmet.
lingers!                             Bar. Not see him?
Return, return; and tell him, that his daughter  If he prove false,-if hated Selim live,
Dies, till she warn him of his threat'ning ruin.   I'll heap such vengeance on him4lIadin. Behold, he comes.   [Exit ALADIN.   Irene. Mercy! mercy!
Enter BARBAROSSA and Guards.            Bar. Mercy to whom?
Bar. Thou bane of all my joys!             Irene. To me-and to thyself:
Some gloomy planet surely rul'd thy birth   To him-to all-Thou think'st I rave; yet true
Even now thy ill tim'd fear suspends the banquet, My visions are, as ever prophet utter'd,
And damps the festal hour.             q     When Heaven inspires his tongue!
Irene. Forgive my fear h!                   Bar. Ne'er did the moon-struck madman rave
Bar. What fear, what phantom hath possess'dwith dreams
thyr brain.2                        More wild than thine! —Get thee to rest;
thy brain?
Irene. Oh, guard thee from the terrors of this Call Achmet hither.
night;                                Irene. Thus prostrate on my knees:-O see
For terrors lurk unseen.                             him not,
Bar. What terror 1 speak.                 Selim is dead:-indeed the rumour's false,
Say, what thou dread'st, and why! I have a soul There is no danger near:-or, if there be,
To meet the blackest dangers undismay'd.    Achmet is innocent!
Irene. Let not my father check with stern re-Bar. Off, frantic wretch!
buke,                               Hence-to thy chamber, on thy duty hence?
Irene. Cruel fate!
The warning voice of nature. For even now,     Iene. Cruel fate!
The warning voice of nature. For even now,   What have I done?-Heaven shield my dearest
Retir'd to rest, soon as I clos'd mine eyes,        father I
A horrid vision rose-Methought I saw        Heaven shield theundone Irene
Young Selim rising from the silent tomb:    Whate'er the event, thy doom is misery.
Mangled and bloody was his corse: his hair  Whate'er the event, thy doom  misey.
Clotted with gore; his glaring eyes on fire!  Bar. Herwordsarewraptindarkness.-Aladin,
Dreadful he shook a dagger in his hand.       Bar. Her words are wraptin darkness. —Aladin,
Dreadful he shook a dagger in his handr.    Forthwith sendAchmet hither. —Then, with speed,
By some mysterious power he rose in air.
When, lo! at his command, this yawning roof   Double the sentinels        [Eit LDIN
Was cleft in twain, and gave the phantom en- How dost thou rise in every hideous shape
trance i                            How dost thou rise in every hideous shape
Swift he descended with terrific brow,  Of rage and doubt, suspicion and despair,
Swift he descended with terrific brow,  To rend my soul!
Rush'd on my guardless father at the banquet,
And plung'd his furious dagger in thy breast!      Enter SELIM and two Guards,
Bar. Wouldst thou appal me by a brainsick
vision?                            Come hither, slave!
visettheeto rest.                   Hear me, and tremble! Art thou what thou
Get thee to rest.t
Irene. Yet hear me, dearest father!               seem'st H
Bar. Provoke me not.Irene. What shall I say, to move him?       Bar. Dost thou pause?-By hell, the slave's
Merciful Heaven, instruct me what to do!confounded 
Selim. That Barbarossa should suspect my
Enter ALADIN.                         truth! 
Lar. What mean thy looks? —Why dost tho i   Bar. Take heed! for by the hovring powers
gaze so wildly?                             of vengeance,
18




206                              BARBAROSSA.                                  [ACT IV
If I do find thee treach'rous, I'll doom thee  Zaph. 0 spare me! Heaven protect me! O
To death and torment, such as human thought          my son,
Ne'er yet conceiv'd! Thou com'st beneath the Wert thou but here, to save thy helpless mother:
guise                               What shall I do?  Undone, undone, Zaphira!
Of Selim's murderer.-Now tell me:-is not
Enter SELIM.
That Selim yet alive 2
Selim. Selim alive!                          Selim. Who call'd on Achmet?-Did not BarBar. Perdition on thee? dost thou echo me?       barossa
Answer me quick, or die!  [Draws his dagger.  Require me here?
Selim. Yes, freely strike-                  Bar. Officious slave, retire!
Already hast thou given the fatal wound,     I call'd thee not.
And pierc'd my heart with thy unkind suspicion;:,  Zaph.. 0 kind and gen'rous stranger, lend thy
Oh, could my dagger find a tongue to tell            aid!
How deep it drank his blood!-but since thy doubt O rescue me from these impending horrors!
Thus wrongs my zeal,-behold my breast-strike, Heaven will reward thy pity!
here-                                 Selim. Pity her woes, O mighty Barbarossa!
For bold is innocence.                         Bar. Rouse not my vengeance, slave!
Bar. I scorn the task,  [Puts up his dagger.'  Selim. 0 hear me, hear me!    [Kneels.
Time shall decide thy doom:-Guards, mark mel  Bar. Curse on thy forward zeal!
well.                                 Selim. Yet, yet, have mlercy.
See that ye watch the motions of this slave:         [Lays hold of BARBAROSSA'S garment.
And if he meditates t'escape your eye,         Bar. Presuming slave, begone!
Let your good sabres cleave him to the chine.                            [Strikes SEIIM.
Selimn. I yield me to thy will, and when thou    Selim. Nay then,- die, tyrant!
know'st                                   [Rises and aims to stab BARBAROSSA who
That Selim lives, or see'st his hated face,                   wrests his daggerfrom him.
Then wreak thy vengeance on me.               Bar. Ah. traitor! have I caught thee?
Bar. Bear him hence.-                     Perfidious wretch, who art thou?-Bring the rackYet, on your lives, await me within call.    Let that extort the secrets of his heart.
I will have deeper inquisition made.           Selim. Thy impious threats are lost! I know,
[Exeunt SELIM and Guards.           that death
Call Zaphira.                  [Exit a slave. And torments are my doom. Yet, ere I die,
If Selim lives-then, what is Barbarossa?    I'll strike thy soul with horror. Off, vile habit!
My throne's a bubble, that but floats in air,  If thou dar'st,
Till marriage rites declare Zaphira mine.   Now view me!-Hear me, tyrant!-while, with
I will not brook delay. By love and vengeance,       voice
This hour decides her fate:                 More terrible than thunder, I proclaim,
That he, who aim'd the dagger at thy heart,
Enter ZAPHIRA.                Is, Selim!
Well, haughty fair!                          Zaph. 0 Heaven! my son! my son!:Hath reason-yet subdu'd thee? —Wilt thou hear    Selim. Unhappy mother!
The voice of love'                                                 [Runs to embrace her.
Zaph. WVhy dost thou vainly urge me?       Bar. Tear them asunder.
Thou know'st my fix'd. resolve.                                   [Guards separate them,
Bar. Can aught but frenzy                   Zaph. Barb'rous, barb'rous ruffians!Rush on perdition  [ They ofer to seize him.
Zaph. Therefore shall no power               Selim. Off, ye vile slaves! [ am your king!E'er make me thine!                                  Retire,
Bar. Nay, sport not with my.rage  -      And tremble at my frowns! That is the traitorKnow, that thy final hour of choice is come!    That is the murd'rer-tyrant ravisher! Seize him,
Zaph. I have no choice. Think'st thou I e'er And do your country right!
will wed                              Bar. Ah, coward dogs!
The murderer of my lord?                   Start ye at words?-or seize him; or, by he'l,
Bar. Take heed, rash queen!              This dagger sends you all-  [They seize h'ns.
Tell me thy last resolve.                     Selim. Dost thou revive, unhappy queen!
Zaph. Then hear me, Heaven..:        Now arm my soul with patience!
Hear, all ye powers, that watch o'er innocence!    Zaph. My dear son!
Angels of light! And thou, dear honour'd shade Do I then live, once more to see mySelim!
Of my departed lord! attend, while here     But Oh-to see thee thus!I ratify with vows my last resolve:           Selim. Canst thou behold
If e'er I wed this tyrant murderer,         Her speechless agonies, and not relent?
If I pollute me with this horrid union,       Zaph. 0 mercy, mercy!
May ye, the ministers of Heaven, depart,      Selim. Lo, Barbarossa! thou at length hadt
Nor shed your influence on the guilty scene!         conquer'd!
May horror blacken all our days and nights!    Behold a hapless prince, o'erwhelm'd with woes,
May discord light the nuptial torch! and, rising                               [Kneels
From hell, may swarming fiends in triumph howl Prostrate before thy feet!-not for myself
Around th' accursed bed!                   I plead. —Yes, plunge the dagger in my breast!
Bar. Begone, remorse!                    Tear, tear me piecemeal! But, O, spare Zaphira!
Guards, do your office: drag her to the altar-    Yet-yet relent! force not her matron honour!
Heei not her tears or cries. What! dare ye doubt? Reproach not Heaven.
[Guards go to seize ZAPHIRA.   Bar. Have I then bent thy pride?




SCENE I.]                          BARB ARO S SA.                                     207
Why, this is conquest even beyond my hope!-     Aladin. The second watch is near.
Lie there, thou slave! lie, till Zaphira's cries  Bar.'Tis well. Whene'er it rings, the traitor
Arouse thee from thy posture!  dies.
Selim. Dost thou insult my griefs?-unmanly  Yet first the rack shall rend
wretch!                               Each secret from his heart.
Curse on the fear, that could betray my limbs,    Haste, seek out Othman:
[Rising.  Go, tell him, that destruction and the sword
My coward limbs, to this dishonest posture;    Hang o'er young Selim's head,.if swift compliance
Long have I scorn'd, I now defy, thy power!    Plead not his pardon.          [Exit ALADIN,
Bar. I'll put thy boasted virtue to the trial.-             Enter IRENE.
Slaves, bear him to the rack.
Slaves, bear him to the rack.                 Irene. 0 night of horror!-Hear me, honour'd
Zaph.': 0 spare my son!;                         father 
Sure filial virtue never was a crime!
If e'er Irene's peace was dear to thee
Save but my son -I yield me to thy wish I     Now rhear me
What'do I say? —The marriage vow —O horror        ar,ar. Impious! dar'st thou disobe yThis hour shall make me thine! ~b
aThis hour shall make: me thine I           Did:not my sacred will ordain thee hence?
&lim. What! doom thyself                    Get thee to rest; for death is stirring here.
The guilty partner of a muredrer s beld  -               L:*,, Irene. 0 fatal words! By every sacred tie,
Whose hands' yet reek with thy dear husband's Recall the dire decree.
blood!
blood!  Bar. What wouldst thou say?
To be the mother of destructive tyrants- -            
V Whom plead for?
The curses of mankind! By Heaven, I swear,      Irene. For a brave unhappy prince
The'guilty hour, that gives thee to the arms  Sentenc'd to die.
Of that detested murderer, shall end             Bar. And ustly  Butthishour
The traitor half fulfill'd thy dream, and' aim'd
Bar. Or yield thee, or he dies.
Zaph. The conflict's past. I will resume my    Irene. Might py pead!
greatness;                              Bar. What! i plead for treachery'
We'll bravely die, as we have liv'd,-with honour!  r. 
[Embracn   Irene. Yet pity might bestow a milder name.
7., t   p    t.f     Wouldst thou not love the child, whose fortitude
Selim. Now, tyrant, pour thy fiercest fury on  Should hazard life for thee 
us:                                     Bar. Damn'd was his purpose; and accurs'd
Now see. despairing guilt! that virtue still
Shall conquer, though in ruin.                         art thou,
Shall conquer, though in ruin.              Whose perfidy would save the dark assassin,
Bar. Drag them hence:
Her to the altar -Selim to his fate:Who sought thy father's life! Hence, from my
Her to the altar:-Selim to his fate..
Zapi. 0 Selim! Omy son!-Thy doomisdeath!            sight.'Wul. i wee  i n  *  Irene. Oh, never, till thy mercy spare my Selim t'Would it were mine!~
Bar.: Thy Selim?    Thine?
Selim.'Would I could give it thee!
Irene. Thou know'st-by gratitude
Is there no means to save her? Lend, ye guards                      - 
Is there no means to save her  Led, ye guards, He's mine. Had not his gen'rous hand redeem'd
Ye ministers of death, in pity lend
Your swords, or some kind weapon of destruction!' What  me,
What then had been Irene?  Oh!
Sure the most mournful boon, that ever son.   Whosav'd me  om dishonour
aWho sav'd me from dishonour.
Ask'd for the best of mothers! 
One last embrace! 
Farewell!'Farewell for ever!                Of great revenge, thy fond entreaties seal
-Zaph. One moment yet! Pity a mother'sHis instant death.-In him, I'll punish thee.
Zapht. One moment yet! Pity a mother's- 
Away!
o pangs eli                            Irene. Yet hear me! Ere my tortur'd soul
O Selim~
Rush on some deed of horror!
Selim. 0 my mother!
[Exeunt SELIM, ZAPHIRA, and Guards.)m:   Bar. Convey the frantic idiot from mypresence:
[Eeunt SEIM, ZA A and Gards. See that she do no violence on herself.
ACZT V.                       Irene. 0 Selim!-generous youth!-how hav e
my fears
SCENYE I. —Thle Palace.             Betray'd thee to destruction!
Inhuman father! Generous, injur'd prince!
Enter BARBAROSSA, ALADIN, and Guards. -  Methinks, I see thee stretch'd upon the rack,
Bar. is the watch doubled?  Are the gates' Hear thy expiring groans. 0 horror! horror!
secur'd                             What shall I do to save him?  Vain, alas!
Against surprisel                            Vain are my tears and prayers. At least, I'll die.
Aladin. They are, and mock th' attempt      Death shall unite us yet!'  Exit,
Bar. O torment! torment!
Of force or treachery.                          Bar. 0 torment! torment!
Bar. This whisper'd rumour                  Even in the midst of power! the vilest slave
Of dark conspiracy,.                          More happy far than I! The very child,
Seems but a false alarm. Our spies, sent out,    Whom my love cherish'd from her infant years
Affirm, that sleep                            Conspires to blast my peace!
Has wrapp'd the city.                                        Enter ALADIN.
Aladin. But while Selim lives,              Now, Aladin,
Destruction lurks within the palace walls.    Hast thou seen Othman?
Bar. Right, Aladin.  His hour of fate ap- He will not, sure, conspire against my peace I'
proaches.                               Aladin. He's fled, my lord. I dread soma
How goes the night?.                                  lurking ruin.




208                              - BARBAROSSA.                                   [ACT V
The sentinel on watch says, that he pass'd    Pour all your torments.-How shall I approach
The gate, since midnight, with an unknown friend:     thee!
And, as they pass'd, Othman in whisper said,     Selim. These are thy father's gifts!-Yet thou
Now farewell, bloody tyrant!                          art guiltless:
Bar. Slave, thou liest.                     Then let me take thee to my heart, thou best,
He did not dare to say it; or, if he did,     Most amiable of women!
Why dost thou wound my ear                      Irene. Rather curse me,
By the foul repetition?                       As the betrayer of thy virtue!
What's to be done? Some mischief lurks unseen.   Selim. Ah!
Aladin. Prevent it then-                      Irene.'Twas I,-my fears, my frantic fears beBar. By Selim's instant death-                       tray'd thee.!
Aladin. Ay, doubtless.                      Thus, falling at thy feet, may I but hope
Bar. Is the rack prepar'd.                 For pardon ere I die!
Aladin.'Tis ready.                           Selim. Hence to thy father!
Along the ground he lies, o'erwhelm'd with chains.   Irene. Never, O never!-crawling in the dust,
The ministers of death stand round; and wait  I'll clasp thy feet, and bathe them with my tears!
Thy last command.                             Tread me to earth! I never will complain;
Bar. Once more I'll try to bend             But my last breath shall bless thee!
His stubborn soul. Conduct me forthwith to him;   Selim. Lov'd Irene!
And if he now refuse my proffer'd kindness,   What hath my fury done.
Destruction swallows him!           [Exeunt.   Irene. Canst thou, then,
SCEIE II. —A Prison in the Palace.        Forgive and pity me 
Selim. I do, I do.          [They embrace.
SELIM in chains, Executioners, 4.c. and the rack.   Offi. No more.-Prepare the rack.
Selim. I pray you, friends,                   Irene. Here will I cling. No power on earth.
When I am dead, let not indignity                      shall part us,
Insult these poor remains; see them interr'd  Till I have sav'd my Selim!
Close to my father's tomb! I ask no more.                       [Shout; clashing Qf swords.
Offi. They shall.                             Aladin. [-ithout.] Arm, arm!-Treach'ry
Enter BARiAROSSA.                         and murder!                 [to arms,
Selim. Off, slaves!-Or I will turn my chains
Bar. So-raise him from the ground.          And dash you piece-meal 
[ They raise him.
Perfidious boy! behold the just rewards
Of guilt and treachery! Didst thou not give     Aladin. Where is the king?
Thy forfeit life, whene'er I should behold    The foe pours in. The palace gates are burst:
Selim's detested face?                       The sentinels are murder'd! Save the king;
Selim. Then take it, tyrant.                They seek him through the palace!
Bar. Didst thou not aim a dagger at my heart?   Ofl. Death and ruin!
Selim. I did.                               Follow me, slaves, and save him.
Bar. Yet heaven defeated thy intent;              [Exeunt ALADIN, OPPICER, and Guards.,
And sav'd me from the dagger.                   Selim. Now, bloody tyrant! Now, thy hour is
Selim. Tis not ours                                 come!
To question Heaven. Th' intent and not the deed Vengeance at length hath pierc'd theseguilty walls.
Is in our power; and  therefore who dares And walks herdeadly round!
greatly,                               Irene. Whom dost thou mean? my father!
Does greatly.                                                              [Clash of swords.
Bar. Yet bethink thee stubborn boy,         Hark!'twas the clash of swords! Heaven save
What horrors now surround thee-                        my father!
Selim. Think'st thou, tyrant,               O cruel, cruel Selim!                 [Exit.
I came so ill prepar'd? Thy rage is weak,      Selim. Curse on this servile chain, that binds
Thy torments powerless o'er the steady mind:          me fast
He, who can bravely dare, can bravely suffer.    In powerless ignominy; while my sword
Bar. Yet lo, I come, by pity led, to spare thee. Should hunt its prey, and cleave the tyrant down!
Relent, and save Zaphira!-For the bell         Oth. [Without.] Where is the prince? 
Even now expects the sentinel, to toll          Selim. Here, Othman bound to earth!
The signal of thy death.                      Set me but free!-O cursed, cursed chain!
Selim. Let guilt like thine                  Enter OTHMAN and Party, who free SELIM.
Tremble at death: I scorn its darkest frown.
Hence, tyrant, nor profane my dying hour!
Hence, tyrant, nor profane my dying hour!      Oth. 0 my brave prince!-Heaven favours our
Bar. Then take thy wish.        [Bell tolls         design.               [Embraces him.
There goes the fatal tknell.                  Take that: I need not bid thee use it nobly.
Thy fate is seal'd. Not all thy mother's tears,                                him a sword.
Nor prayers, nor eloquence of grief, shall save thee   Selm. Now, Barbarossa, let my arm meet thine,
From instant death.                    [Exit.'Tis all I ask of Heaven!              [Exit.
Selim. Come on, then.      [They bind him.   Oth. Guard ye the prince-    [Part go out.
Begin the work of death-what bound withcords,Pursue his steps. Now this way let us turn,
Like a vile criminal!-O valiant friends,          seek the tyrant.               [Exeunt
When will ye give me vengeance!                   SCENE II1.-A Court in the Palace.
Enter IRENE.                               Enter BARBAROSSA.
Irene. Stop, O, stop!                        Bar. Empire is lost, and life: yet brave revenge
Hiold your accursed hands!-On me, on me,     Shall close my life in glory.




sgcENE Il.]                    B ARBAROSS A.                                        209
Enter OTHMAN.                                  Enter ZAPHIRA.
Have I found thee,                              Zaph. What mean these horrors? wheresoe'er
Dissembling traitor!  Die!-                           I turn
[7They fight; BARBAROSSAfallS. MY trembling steps, 1 find some dying wretch,
Weltering in gore! And dost thou live, my Selim?
Enter SELIM and SADI.                Selim. Lo, there the tyrant lies!
Zaph. 0 righteous Heaven!
Selim. The foe gives way: sure this way went   Selim. Behold thy valiant friends,    [power
the storm.                            Whose faith and courage have o'erwhelm'd the
Where is the tiger fled 2 What do I see?     Of Barbarossa.
Sadi. Algiers is free!                       Zaph. Just are thy ways, O Ieaven! Vain
Oth. This sabre did the deed!                       terrors, hence!
Selim. I envy thee the blow! Yet valour scorns Once more Zaphira's bless'd!To wound the fallen. But if life remain,        -Seim. 0 happy hour! happy, beyond
I will speak daggers to his guilty soul-      Even hope! Look down, bless'd shade,
Hoa!. Barbarossa! Tyrant, murderer!        From the bright realms of bliss! Behold thy queen'Tis Selim, Selim calls thee.                  Unspotted, unseduc'd, unmov'd in virtue.
Bar. Off, ye fiends!                        Behold the tyrant prostrate at thy feet!
Torment me not! 0 Selim, art thou there!      And to the memory of thy bleeding wrongs,
Swallow me, earth!                            Accept this sacrifice.
Oh, that I ne'er had wrong'd thee!              Zaph. My generous Se]im!
Selim. Dost thou then                         Setim. Where is Irene I
Repent thee of thy crimes! He does, he does!   Oth. Zamor, our trusty friend, at my command,
He grasps my hand-see, the repentant tear     Convey'd the weeping fair one to her chamber
Starts from his eye! Dost thou indeed repent?  Selim. Thanks to thy generous care.
Why then I do forgive thee: from my soul        Zaph. Her virtues might atone
I freely do forgive thee!-                   For all her father's guilt! Thy throne be hers
Bar. Gen'rous Selim!                       She merits all thy love.        [ther's crimes,
Too good-I have a daughter-Oh! protect her!   Selim. Then haste, and find her. O'er her ftLet not my crimes-                     [Dies. Pity shall draw her veil; nay, half absolve thtmn
0th. There fled the guilty soul!            When she beholds the virtues of his child.
Selim. Haste to the city-stop the rage of Now let us thank th' eternal Power: convinc'd.
slaughter.                            That Heaven but tries our virtue by affliction;
Tell, my brave people, that Algiers is free;  That oft the cloud, which wraps the present hou,
And tyranny no more.                          Serves but to brighten all our future days!.... Exeunt Guards.                                   [Exeunt.
VOL. I.... 2 D      18*




THE RE RECRUITING SERGEANT:
A MIUSICAL ENTERTAINMENT,
IN ONE ACT.
BY ISAAC BICKERSTAFF.
REMARKS.
THE musical merits of thls Burletta have always been acknowledged:: it is now seldom performed, but it is well
entitled to preference. In 1789, it was produced at the Royalty Theatre, under the management of Mr. John Pal
mer i and met with great success.
DRAMATIS PERSONtE.
As originally acted.                  COVENT GARDEN, 1816
SERGEANT.................. Mrannister.....                      Mr.Incledon.
COUNTRYMAN,........        Mr. Dibdin.........Mr. Solomun
WIFE..Mrs... Wrighten............        Mrs. 
MOTHER,..M.. rs. Doriman...                                       Mrs. T. Dibdin.
SCENE.-A Country Place.
SCENE. -View of a Village, with a Bridge.    Wife.        Dear Joe!
Coun.  Adds flesh, I'll go with him.
On one side, near the front, a Cottage; on the   Moth.   Oh, no!  
other, at thefoot of the Bridge, an Alehouse.  Coun.  Adds flesh, but I will
The Curtain rises and discovers two Light              So hold your tongues still:
Horsemen, supposed to be on their march, sit-        Nor mother, nor wife,
ting at an Alehouse door; with their arms             Tho'f they strive for their life,
against the wall, their horses at some distance.      Shall baulk't an' my fancy be s
The SERGEANT then passes with his party    Serg.   Come, beat awaya royal march,
over the bridge, drums, andfifes playing; and           Rub, rub, rub a dub;
afterwards the COUNTRYMAN, his WIFE, and                Rub, rub, rub a dub;
his MOTHER, come outfrom the Cottage.                 Of no poltroons I come in search,
his,~~~~~~ ~Who cowardly sneak
QXUARTET.-SERGEANT, COUNTRYMAN, MOTHER,                   WVhen the tongues of war speak,
and WIFE.                              But of noble souls, who death dare
stand,
Serg.   All gallant lads, who know no fears,         Against the foes of old England.
To the drum-head repair,          Coun.  I'll be a soldier, so that's flat.
To serve the king for volunteers;   Moth.   You wont, you wont.
Speak you, my boys, that dare.    Coun.  I'll be dead, an' I don't.
Come, who'll be a grenadier.                What would the teasing toads be at I
The listing money down            Moth.   You graceless rogue,
Is three guineas and a crown,                  Is your heart a stone!
To be spent in punch or beer.       WTife.  I'm flesh of your flesh,
Coun.  Adds flesh, I'll go with him.                    And bone of your bone.
Moth.     Oh, no,                            Coun.   Zounds, let me alone.
210




THE RECRUITING SERGEANT.                                        211
&erg.   Drums, strike up a flourish, and follow  For folks you know not who!
me now                          With richer friends than we,
All honest hearts and clever:       And prouder you may be,
Free quarters and beer at the sign of    But none will prove so true.
the Plough:                                      [Exit with the Children.
Huzza! king George for ever.      Serg. Comrade, your hand: I love a lad of
[Some of the party go into the Alehouse      soul;
with the Light Horsemen.        Your name, to enter on my muster-roll:
Coun. Hip, Measter Sergeant.               To Justice Swear'em then, to take our oath.
Wife. Go, yourself destroy.                  Coun. Hold, sergeant, hold, there's time enough
Serg. What says my cock?                           for both.
Coun. Mayhop, I wants employ.              If I've a moind to list, I'll list, d'yo see;
A lad about my soize, though, would na' do.  But some discourse first, betwixt yow and me.
Serg. Ay, for a colonel.                   A souldier's life
Coun. And a coptain too!                    Serg. The finest life that goes;
Serg. For both, or either.                 Free quarters every whereCoun. But I doubts, d'ye see,                Coun. Ay, that we knows.
Such places are na' for the loikes o' me.      Serg. Then, wenches!
Serg. List for a soldier first, ne'er fear the rest:   Coun. You've free quarters too with they;
This guinea-                                 Girls love the red coats
Mloth. Joe, this cursed gould detest.        Serg.'Gad, and well they may.       tsorq
Art not asham'd, an honest man to'tice?       Coun. But when to fareign wars your men reThe king should knaw it.                     Fighting-a battleCoun. Who wants yowr advice?                Serg.'Tis the rarest sport.
AIR.-MOTHER.                     Coun. Tell us a little about that.
Out upon thee, wicked locust,              Serg. I will.
Worse in country nor a plague;           Wife. Don't listen to him, Joe!
Men by thee are hocust pocust
Into danger and fatigue.                            AIR.-SERGEANT.
And the justices outbear thee
In thy tricks, but I don't fear thee,        What a charming thing thing's a battle!
No, nor those that with thee league.       Trumpets sounding, drums a beating
My son has enough at home,                   Crack, crick, crack, the cannons rattle
He needs not for bread to roam;              Every heart with joy elating.
Already his pay                              With what pleasure are we spying,
Is twelvepence a day,                        From the front and from the rear,
His honest labour's fruits;                Round us in the smoky air,
Then get thee a trudging quick,                Heads, and limbs, and bullets flying!
For'gad, if I take a stick,                   Then the groans of soldiers dying:
I'll make thee repent,                       Just like sparrows, as it were,
When here thee wert sent,                      At each pop,
A drumming for recruits.                     Hundreds drop;
[Exit into the Cottage.   While the muskets prittle prattle.
Kill'd and wounded
Re-enter MOTHER, with three little Children.     Lie confounded.
Coun. Then won't you go, and let a body be?   What a charming thing's a battle!
Serg. Zounds, is the woman mad?              But the pleasant Joke of all,
Mloth. Dawn't swear at me.                    Is when to close attack we fall:
Wife. Dear Joseph, what's come o'er thee?     Like mad bulls each other butting,
tell me, do:                            Shooting, stabbing, maiming, cutting,
Three babes we have, I work for them and you;      Horse and foot,
You work for us, and both together earn            All go to't,
What keeps them tight, and puts them out to      Kill's the word, both men and cattle;
learn.                                     Then to plunder,
But, if a soldiering you're bent to roam,          Blood and thunder,
We all shall shortly to the parish come;         What a charming thing's a battle!
And the churchwardens, no one to befriend us,  Moth. Call you this charming?'Tis the work
Will, for the next thing, to the workhouse send      of hell.
us.                         rserv'd;    Wife. How dost thou like it, Joe?
Thee know'st at workhouse how poor folks are    Coun. Why, pretty well.
Bill, Tom, and Susan, will be quickly starv'd.  Serg. But pretty well?
Coun. Why need there more be said?
AIR.- Taking  a Boy in one hand and a GirlBut mayn't I happen too to lose my head?
in the other.        -         Serg. Your head?
Oh, could you bear to view                 Coun. Ay.
Your little Tom and Sue                    Serg. Let me see: your head, my buck-. -
Ta'en up by cross o'erseers:            Coun. A leg or arm too?
And think that helpless I,                 Serg. Not if you've good luck.
To give them, when they cry,               Coun. Good luck!
Have nothing but my tears?             Serg. The chance of war is doubtful still'
You cannot have the heart,              Soldiers must run the risk.
With them and me to part,                  Coun. They may, that will.




212                 THE RECRUITING SERGEANT.
Srg. Why, how now, Joseph!  Sure you                With mutual kindness bear love's yoke,
mean to jest!                               And pity greater, finer folk.
Coun. I have thought twice, and second [Here
thoughts are best.                   [Here is introduced a dance of Light-horse men,
Show folks with beastes to our village came    Recruits, and Country girls; after which the
And hung at door a picture of their game;      SERGEANT comes out, with a drinking glass in
Bears, lions, tigers, there were four or five;  his hand,followed by his party, to the COUNAnd all so like, you'd swear they were alive.  TRYMAN, the WIFE, and the MOTHER, who
A gaping at the cloth, the mon spied me;       have been looking on the dance.
"For twopence, friend, you may walk in," says he;   Serg. Well, countryman, art off the listing pin,
But'gad, I was more wise, and walk d my way; Yet wilt thou beat a march!
I saw so much for nought, I would not pay.     Wife. Dear Joe! come in.
To see a battle thus, my moind was bent;       Moth. Hang-dog, be gone, and tempt my boy
But you've so well describ'd it, I'm content.        no more.
Serg. Come, brother soldiers, let us then begone:   Wife. Do, sergeant, pray now.
Thou art a base poltroon.                      Coun. Mother, wife give o'er.
Coun. That's all as one.                   I see the gentleman no harm intends.  rfriends.
AIR.                       Serg. 1! Heaven forbid; but let us part like
We've got a bottle here of humming ale.
Ay, ay, master sergeant, I wish you good day:'Tis the king's health.
You've no need at present, I thank you, to stay;    Coun. And that I never fail.
My stomach for battle's gone from me, I trow;   Lord love and bless him, he's an honest man.
When it comes back again, I'll take care you    Serg. Lads, where your music!
shall know.                            Coun. Nay, fill up the can.
With cudgel or fist, as long as you list;    We'll drink the royal family.
But as for this fighting,                      Serg. So do;
Which some take delight in;           [gun; King, queen, and all.
This slashing and smashing, with sword and with    Coun. And Jane shall drink them too.
On consideration,                                               AIR.
I've no inclination
To be the partaker of any such fun.          Here's a health to king George, peace and glory
I'll e'en stay at home in my village,                attend him!
And carry no arms but for tillage;             He's merciful, pious; he's prudent and just;
My wounds shall be made                      Long life, and a race like himself, Heaven send
With the scythe or the spade,                        him,
If ever my blood should be shed.               And humble the foes to his crown in the dust.
A finger or so                                 Chorus. Beat drums, beat amain,
Should one wound, or a toe                             Let the ear-piercing fife
For such a disaster
TeFor suchm a disaster;                               To our measures give life;
There may be a plaster;                                While each British heart
But no plaster sticks on a head. [Exit SERGEANT.        n the health bears a part
Wife. Then wilt though stay, Joe 1                     And joins the loyal strain.
Moth. Wilt thou, boy of mine'
Coun. Wife, give's thy hand, and mother, give    Wife. Here's a health to the queen; gracious,
us thine.                                       mild, and engaging,
Last night you dodg'd me to the alehouse, Jane;        Accomplish'd in all that a woman
I swore to be reveng'd-                                  should own;
Wife. I see it plain.              [short,        The cares of her consort with softness
Coun. I swore to be reveng'd, and vow'd, in            assuaging,
To list ma, to be even with thee for't;               Whose manners add splendour and
But kiss me, now my plaguy anger's o'er.                grace to a throne.
Wife. And I'll ne'er dodge thee to the ale-       Chorus. Beat drums &c.
house more.
Moth. Here's a health to those beautiful babes,
DUET.-COUNTRYMAN and WIFE.                         whom the nation
Coun. From henceforth, wedded to my farm,            Regards as a pledge from the sire it
My thoughts shall never rove on harm,           reveres;
Io o the field perchance may go,            Heaven shield the sweet plants from each
But it shall be to reap or sow.
Wife. Now blessings on thy honest heart,            And rear them to fulness of virtue
Thy wife shall bear an equal part;              and years.
Work thee without doors, she within         Chorus. Beat drums, &c.
Will keep the house, and card and spin.ss to his majesty's arms,
Coun. How foolish they, in love with strife,        ere's success to his ma
Who quit the peaceful country life;             ever glorious,
J ife. Where wholesome labour is the best,          And great may they be on the land
And surest guide to balmy rest!                  and the main;
Both. That lot true happiness secures,            As  just is their cause, may they still
And, bless'd, be prais'd, is mine and           prove victorious,
~~~~~~yours.  ~And punish the rashness of France
Content beneath the numble shed,
We'll toil to earn our babies bread;        Chorus. Beat drums, &c.




HERO AND LEANDER:
A COMZ9a BURLETTA,
IN TWO ACTS.
BY ISAAC JACKMAN.
REMARKS.
rTinms burletta, remarkable principally for the occasion which produced it, was written,y Isaac Jackman for Mr.
John Palmer, who had then recently built and opened the Royalty Theatre, in Well Street, Goodman's-fields, fhr
the regular drama. Continued opposition from the patentees 6f the royal theatres, obliged that gentleman to re.
bounce his first intention; and this elegant theatre (though better calculated, in every respect, for the legitimate
drama than the winter theatres) has been, since that period, opened under an annual license for burletta, pan
tomnime, &c. according to the act 25th Geo. II.
In his dedication, the author observes, that' The worthy manager requested me to write something for him
within the statute, and I thought poor Hero and Leander might be introduced to the public, without being conuidered'wagrants or wagabonesI' I did intend to souse Leander in the waves, as a part of the old romance, and
to have a requiem sung over his manes; but a wicked wit told me, that such a denouement would be tragedy
direct, and against the law."
At the first representation of this afterpiece, the'talents of Mr. Bannister, Mr. W. Palmer, Mr. Arrowsmith,
Mrs. Fox, Master Braham, &c. ensured it the highest success.
During the controversy elicited by Mr. Palmer's endeavours to obtain a patent for his theatre, it was aptly observed, that " It is of no consequence to government, or to the million residing within the walls of London, whether the winter managers and Mr. Colman play to empty benches or overflowing audiences. If they are able,
diligent, and liberal, they cannot fail of accumulating very considerable fortunes, and may bid defiance to every
exertion of Mr. Palmer in the east: let this be as it may, the public good ought first to be consulted."
An unjust and impolitic monopoly, however, preserved the ascendancy; and the public good, as on many other
more important occasions, was sacrificed to private interest.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
ROYALTY THEATRE, 1787.
A.BUDAH,...... Mr. W. Palmer.
DELAH.......Mr. Chambers.
LEANDER,.... X                                Mr. Arrowsmitl.
HYMEN,......................................ster Braham.
SOLANO,                                        Mr. Bannister.
HERO,..............                          Mrs. Fox
SAFRINA,................                   Irs. Burnet.
MINERVA....................Miss Burnet.
Soldiers, Labourng People, Men and Women.
ScENE, —The Banks of the Hellespont. Time. —Sun-rise.
Music by Mr. Reeve.-Scenery by Mr. Dixon.
ACT I.                        Turkish husbandmen at work, their wives employed
at the same time.-A. perspective view of the Cdstle
UPNE L.-A  Harvest Scene, at sun-rise, on the    of Abydos, in Natotia, or the Lesser Asia-,he
Banks of the Hellespont.               Hellespont appearing to divide the two countries.
-213




214                        HERO AND LEANDER.                                      [ACT 1.
Enter SOLANO, SAFRINA, HERO, labouring Men    M/Ian. A ship, a ship! itwixt sea ana wind she
and Women.                             strives.
Sol. Fly all, fly all, and save the people s lives.
Chorus. All hail the cheerful god of day,
Parent of every human bliss;                         SONG.
Who (ere he wings  his- heavnly    Alas, how chang'd the face of things;
way)                                           [Thunder and lightning.
Salutes his Thetis with a kiss.    Hark, hark, the howling tempest sings:
Saf.    See how creation smiles around;      Ah, now the rebel winds she feels
What melody enchants the grove!  Toss'd on the billows, how she reels t
Hero.'Tis there the voice of nature's found
Responsive to the note of love.:-.;.-.She's now a wreck, behold on high L Thunders.
Chorus. All hail, &c.                         Exploded thunders rend the sky;
Sol. Well done, my lads, the morning seems to    A dread convulsion moves the shore,
lower;                 ~                And rocks the deep, unmov'd before.
In yonder cloud methinks I view a shower'
Bi nd up tour, methinks, I iew a shower:,    [The crew now appear landing-thunder and light.
And upl the corn, harness all the cattle,       ning —music descriptive of the elemental warfare
And let the women quit their idle prattle;      -stom gradually ereaeLE NER disguised.
Those lazy sluts are constantly a gadding.'Tis such as you, that set the fellows madding.  Sol. Welcome on shore, Sir, whether friend or
Hero. Behold Aurora, with a blushing ray             foe,
And rosy fingers, spreads the infant day!     All are our brothers in this scene of woe.
Lean. Thanks to you, gentle friends; and, Sir,
- SONG.                            to you'- -      - X
Ere yet Aurora chase the dews,            Our constant prayers are ever, ever due;
The lark his matin song renews;           May all the powers -divine your labours bless,
And seems to chide the swains' delay,     And send you friends, if ever in distress!:
And seem4 to chidethe swapato delay.
To lose so sweet a part of day.             Sol. What, means that sigh? ah, tell me, gen~te youth;
See from the ground his mate arise,. You seem the child of honour and of-truth::
And seems to mock our wond'ring eyes;     Banish your cares, for see, the God of light
Still as she soars her notes decay,       Dispels the gloom, that wrapp'd the world in
Till the faint warblings die away.                night.
Lean. Stern Boreas, frowning now forsakes
Sol. Well, Safrina, what's the matter now. Stern Boreas, frowning now
Saf. There sits, alas! on gentle Hero's brow        the. plain,
A settled grief.       e r                    And smiling Nature visits us again;
aol. Ps~iawi I kno*w the~i~easo:. Each tree its wonted foliage re-assumes,
Sol. Pshaw! I know the.reason:
And new-born zephyrs breathearound perfumes.
Hero's nineteen, and that, you know's the season             phyrs breathe-around perfumes.
marrIe, io  th  culd s n. Where'er we turn to view our ravish'd eyes,
When females would.be married,.if they.could.'
WnSaf. Welle what ofuldthat are we not fle~shand Luxuriant scenes of endless beauty rise.
Saf. Well, what of~that,?: are we not flesh and
blood I.                                                 SONG.;
SONG.                        -  Transparent now, and all.serene, -
The gentle current flows;
When I was young, I danc'd and sung,             While fancy draws the flatt'ring scene,
My heart was lighter than a fly;                 How fair the landscape shows!
No care my youthful bosom stung,
At every rout, pray who but I?               But soon its transient charms decay,
-.When ruffling tempests blow;
At length the urchin bent his bow,               The soft delusions fleet away,
The vagrant arrow hit the mark;                 And pleasure ends in woe.
But Hymen'solv'd-his skill to' show,
Cur'd poor Safrina in the dark.           Sol.' Tell me, gentle Sir,, from  whence you
Sol. Well done, Safrina;'foregad,we allean tell,   came;
D'eclare your sovereign, country, and your name,
There was a time, you.bore away thebell.      Are ye from Natolia's rebelcoast
[ A peal of thunder; sky appears overcast; If that be so,'twere better you were lost.
exeunt SAFRINA and HERO.
[ Trumpet without
Sol. Away my lads-the  storm  -is drawing  The chief is rous'd: behold him, great in arms;
near-                                 Let-Hero no w.subdue him with her charms:
And save the produce of a fruitful year.      From yonder mountain's brow he saw your sails -
[A peal of thunder, accompanied zwith lightning. Dreadfulhe'is-a' bashaw of three tails.
Sol. Well done, my boys! The clouds are all  [l/lusic plays,' ee the conquering hero comes
A thund er-bolt hath struck the village spire.  Enter ABUDAH on an elephant, attended with a numerA thunder-bolt hath struck the village spire.        ous body of guards, armed nuth spears.
[A peal of thunder, lightning, rain, 4c.
Sol. The hills are wrapt in stormy clouds on.Abu. What's this I see?-a set of rascal mrhigh,                                         nions,
And feel the dread convulsion of the sky,     Hanging together like a set of onions.
Tempests arise. on fortune's ocean.lower,     I'll hang ye all, ay, scoundrels, before night,
And rolling billows lash. th Aaffrighted shore.'   If on the instant you don't quit my sight.
[Tempest rages; a Man, standing on a rock,   Sol. Dread Sir, we have got some prisoners
cries out-                                    here,




cCENE L.J                HERO AND LEANDER.                                        215
1 hat seem half dead already with their fear;  The god of love shall fan the keen desire  
Shipwreck'd upon our coast, we sav'd their lives, My body, blood, and soul, are all on fire. [Going.
And here they are —                            Lean. Monster, avaunt!-Releasethe heavenly
Abu. Say, have they any wives'-                   fair,
The women all are mine-yes, if twenty,       Or, by all the- avenging powers, -I swear_Although indeed I've petticoats in plenty.                             [' [Seizes ABUDAH.
Sol. We found nofemale, Sir, among the crew;   Abu. Seize,:seize the-villain; drag:him to the
Shall we discharge the men-pray, what say you?      block,
Abu. Let them all breakfast,               Or toss him:headlong from the steepest rock.
Each a loaf of bread,                        No, off with his head. As I'm a sinner,
And then let every prisoner —               I'll have his knob, before I eat my dinner.
Lose his head.![PRIsONERS bow.   Hero. Mercy, 0 mercy Sir, as you are great!
CHORUS. —PRISONERS.              0 save. the youth, at least suspend his fate!
Abu. Who is the vagabond?
Have pity, great chief,              Lean. Why, caitiff,. hear,
And send us relief;                So shall thy savage nature shake with fear;..
- We're all in a wretched condition:  Know then, ingrate, from Abydos I came;
0, spare our poor lives,           Still more; know thou, Leander is my name.
And we'll send you our wives;                          [ Throws off his disguse
Accept this our humble petition.     Now  slip thy bloodhounds-'dulge the savage
[During this chorus ABUDAH alights. I stand unmov'd..  [rout;
Abu, Silence, rascals! —I find you then can    Abu. O now the murder'sout.
But, prate,  -Thanks to thee, prophet, thanks to thee again.
But,:scoundrels,' you shall know my word is'fate. -Speak not in his behalf, you sue in vain;
My sword-shall'treat the vultures with a feast;
My sword shall treat the vultures with a feast;   This is the squire, that braves the Hellespont,
Shall lay - whole realms, nay, human nature, And steals   night to madam hotupontickle
-waste.ounds! l'ils~usehiminatub 0fpickle;
And, as.for Miss, her toby I will tickle.,,Sol. I told:them,:Sir, how great you were in And, as for MiSs, hertobyl willtickle..
power,.                             l3Drag him away.
That with a single puffyou'd rock a tower*
That with a single puff you'd rock a tower;    Hero. Great chief, be not cruel, but good as
That you were ten feet high —was not that right?         you're brave,              save.
Abu. Ten feet at least-five cubits-No-not          Remember, the hero but conquers to
Remember, the hero but conquers to
quite:                                 Sol.  Give life to the wretched, whose fate's
Yet every inch is made of proper stuff,                  in your hand:               land.
Though idle nature cast me in the rough.             Tis humanity graces and blesses the'Tis humanity graces and blesses the
SONG.                       Lean. I sue not for mercy, I stand here un.
Stand all aloof, ye paltry jades,                    movd, 
IAnd you, a ye filthy naves, of spades;Protected by virtue, by beauty, and love.
And you, yefilthynaves of spades;  Together. Look down, 0 ye gods, and let morHow dare you look-beyond those pales,                talsnow prove,
On me, who wear.three thumping tails?
The blessings that wait upon: virtue- and
Don't you all know, that at a blow,                  love.
I'd send you to the shades below?
Begone, or else I swear, odsbobs,          Hero. Hear me, great Sir-O spare Leander's
I'll send you home without your knobs.          life,
Enter HERO.                  Grant this request, and Hero is your wife.
Sol. Say, will your actions with your words
But, Hero now her form displays,                 accord.
And strives to charm a thousand ways.;'Hero. They will, indeed.
From head to foot new modes of dress,      Sol. Then take her at her word.
Her various arts to please express:        Lean. I read my Hero's meaning in her eyes.
I find I'm caught within the snare,                                           [Aside.
So I'll enjoy the am'rous fair;           Abu. It is all flummery. —By Heaven, he dies.
As I'm a soldier great and stout,          Hero. Pardon me, Sir, my love for you preThis girl has turn'd me inside out.              vails,:H-BRo andLEANDERlooksteadfastlyateach other. What girl can stand, a bashaw with three tails?:Lean. It is, it is, my love! Ye gods, be kind!                          [Coaxes him.
[Aside.
Hero.'Tis: he-I. give my sorrows to the wind.
[Aside.   O, Sir, be consenting, be kind, and relenting,
Abu. What does the fellow stare at  Speak,                                      [away;
you dog.                              Release these poor creatures, and send them
The rascal seems as stupid as a log.                 Do but this, and you'll find
Lean. Spate your reproaches, Sir; I'm ill at       How good natur'd and kind
ease,                                  I'll prove to my spousee, by night and by day.
My life is yours, do with me as you please.
See tear succeeds to tear —a passage seeks,  0, come now, sweet lover, a-passion discover,
And, bursting forth, bedews her lovely cheeks.!    A sly little Cupid now lurks in that smile:
[Aside.        Every maid must surrender
Abu. No grumbling, sirrah.  Charmer, let's         To such a commander,         [guile.
retire,    [ Takes HERO by the hand.   You've found out a way my poor heart to be



216                        HERO AND: LEANDER.                                  rACT U.
Behold, like Apollo, his ringlets of yellow!           But if you refuse me,
Behold how, like Mars, at this moment he             And think but to noose me
His breath too discloses   [stands!            In love's silken fetters,
The perfume of roses!                         And sneer at your betters,
How plump his round cheeks, and how taper            By the gods now I swear,
his hands!                                From your bosom I'll tear0, come now, sweet lover, &c.                  No, stop-'Pll do more,
I'll deluge the shore
Abu. A pretty soul it is!-Say, will you, Miss,      With bloodtGive your bashaw the earnest of a kiss.               Till Nature looks wild
Till Nature looks wild,
e Kisses him.    And before I retire,'Tis done-!'tis done!-you're pardon'd, rascals        I'kindefir
give you life, my love will   pardon'd, rasls o. I'll kindle a fire,
1 give you life, my love will have it so.   [-go,      That shall toast you,
But if that poaching dog comes here again,             And roast you,
And braves my anger, as he braves the main, woman, and child.
Man, woman, and child.
I'll whip the rebel rascal, till he's blind.lie scarce then, scoundrels, now you know my    Saf 0 mercy on us! whither shall we fly' 
mind.                                 Sol. He'll ravish you, perhaps.
CHoaus.                      Saf. No, first I'll die.
Prisoners Happy, happy, happy day;  [Exeunt SAFRINA, and HERO; huzza without,
Prisoners Happy, happy, happy day;
Every heart its homage: pay.             Enter DELAH and Soldiers.
CHoaus-By the Turks.                Abu. What's the matter, Delah?
Wake to harmony the voice,            Del. Dread Sir, attendRe~joice,'tis mercy calls, rejoice.  We've seen a sail-I'm sure sh's not a friendHovering on our coast; she's full of people.
[During this chorus, ABUDAH mounts the I saw her first, great Sir, from yonder steeple.
elephant; he first places his foot on the   Abu. Rally my forces-instant line the strand;
shoulder of a slave, who kneels and raises They're rebel rascals, from Natolia's land.
him gently, until ABUDAH vaults into the [Exit DELAH; Soldiers remain. Huzza without.
saddle.                                Like Mars, I'll dart the javelin from my car,
CHORUS.                    I scorn to wait, I'll meet the coming war.
[Going; trumpet sounds without.,41. Happy, happy, happy day,               Sol. Fir'd by the sound, my genius bids me go,
Every heart its homage pay.
Every he.armonyts homage vo.          To share the conflict, and repel the foe.
VVWake to harmony the voice,
Rejoice,'tis mercy calls, rejoice                        SONG.
ACT IIl Hark! the trumpet sounds afar,
The clam'rous harbinger of war;
SCENVE I.-A  Grove.                  Rouse, soldiers, rouse, to arms to arms,
Enter ABUDAH, SOLANO, SAFRINA, and HERO.        The call my beating bosom warms;
Abu. Come, come, olano, methinks we tarry,  The foe insults our native shore,
Abu Come, come, Soan X7          And proudly mocks his conqueror.
I shall be all a-gog, until I marry.
The loves in council sit, and from above                        AIR.
Venus now calls me to the Paphian grove.         0 genius of this ha  land,
Sol. What says my gentle Hero, will you go  Descend and bles thy chosen band;
Saf. Her heart seems bursting with its grief.  Give u    s to m  eet the daring foe
Give us to meet the daring foe,
Hero. IHeigh ho!
Saf. Divide your sorrows, Hero, give me part.'Tis liberty shall nerve the blow.
Suppress that sigh-or else you'll break my heart.  So, when the toils of war are o'er,
SONG.                         And meek-eyed peace unlocks her store,
Each youthful hero then shall prove,
Alas! I press'd, with growing love,          A sweet reward in faithful love.
This darling to my breast; 
Not the most favour'd, even above                       Enter DELAH.
Was more completely bless'd.
Del. Dread Sir. a prisoner we have taken.
Dear innocent! her lovely smiles          Abu. Off with his head-I'll make the fellow
Delight me but to view;                        bacon.
And every pang my Hero feels,.        Del. If you unhead him, Sir, he cannot speak.
Her mother feels it too.                Abu. What horrid fears sits trembling on thy
Abu. I see she's coy, yet love is in her eye,      cheek?
She'll know her bashaw better by and by;       Del. I find Leander, Sir, comes here to-night,
Come, Hero, I hope there's no repenting,     To visit Hero, and secure her flight.
The gods, my pretty chicken, are consenting.   Abu. Death and the devil!-this is news indeedO  for Bellona's whip, to make him bleed!
Gentle Hero! take my hand,           He should be more than twenty months in dying,
Love and life6's at thy command:'Twould make me smile, to see the rascal frying.
Joys surrounding,                    Sol. Suppose we seize him as he, comes to.
Sorrows drowning,                          night,
Bliss shall gladden all the land.     Waylay the villain-nab him?




SCEN~E.]                  HERO AND LEANDER.                                       217
Abu. That is right.                        Views not a love more pure, or truer mind,
You counsel well, Solano-Come away,         Amongst the various race of human kind;
y soul's in arms and eager for its prey      Where neither interest nor design have part,
[Exeunt omnes. But all the warmth is native from the heart.
SCENE II.
Enter HERO; LEANDER embraces her.
Night.-The Hellespont in perspective. LEANDER is seen rowing himself over. A candle 0 bless'd event!-let's fly to yonder shore:
appears in HERO'S windowp, as a direction to We've met, my Hero, now, to part no more.
her lover.'                            Hail, happy groves, retreats of peace and joy,
Where no black cares the mind's repose destroy!
Enter ABUDAH, SOLANO, and Soldiers.       Hero. Discharg'd from care, on unfrequented
Sol. Behold him, Sir!-his fate, alas! draws       plains,
nigh,                               We'll sing of rural joys in rural strains;
And forces e'en the tribute of a sigh..  No false corrupt delights our thoughts shall move,
Like the dread genius of the deep, he steers,      But joys of friendship, tenderness, and love.
Nor shuns the labour, nor the danger fears.                     DUET.
SONG..:~                 I Lean.'Come now, my sweet love, to the grow,
0, see how he comes, how he moves through          The graces are waiting for you;
the gloom,                                   Thro' roses and woodbines we'll rove,
Conducted by fate, and by love, to his doom!       And kiss, as all true lovers do.
0, see the fond'youth, to the shore now he   Hero. O take both my hand and my heart
bends,                                         My lover I know he is true;
And quits his companions, his country, and       Till death shall direct us to part
- friends;           -We'll kiss, as all true lovers do.
Regardless of danger, he darts through the
wave,                                  Both. Adieu then to doubt and despair,'Tis nature commands him, and nature must          Fair virtue our loves will pursue;
save.  We'll not know a moment of care,
But-kiss, as all true lovers do.
Abu. The fellow's got on shore, he'll soon bekiss, as all true l
here;                                 [They appear retiring to LEANDER'S vesseL,
The light conducts him to my faithless fair.     but are stopped by ABUDAH, SOLANO, DELAH,
O here he comes-be silent all as death,          and Soldiers; the Soldiers present their
Let not a creature speak above his breath.       spears at LEANDER.
Enter LEANDER.                   Abu. Bind the villain.-O Sir, you're caught
Lean. Well so far safe-I now must wait to Knock offis head, and let me have his brain;
see                                 Now that my anger's rous'd, my rage is full,
The bright perfection of a deity.            I'll make a punch-bowl of the rascal's skull.
O do not, cruel love, my cares prolong!
I'll wake my gentle Hero with a song.          [In this part of the Scene, MINERVA, in a
cloud, attended by HYMEN, descends in the
SONG.                         back Scene, supposed to be the Banks of the
Awake, my sweet Hero, my heart's dearest     Hellespont.
treasure,                             Lean. 0 now farewell to hope!-My love,
Leander now calls you to love and delight;  I die content, because I die for you.  [adieu!'Tis Hymen shall sanctify love's softest plea-   Hero. 0 make his cause, ye powers above, your
sure,                                       care,
Give our days all to joy, and to rapture the Let guilt shrink back, and innocence appear 
night.                              Support his soul, now death demands his prey,
A.wake then, my charmer, and share the And smooth his passage to the realms of day!
sweet blessing,                       Lean. May Heaven still guard her, with pe.
The moments now fly me, alas! how dis-           culiar care.
tressing,                           And make her happy, as it made her fair!
O, think of our joys, when caress'd and ca- May calmest peace her future days attend,
ressing,                            And late may she to endless joys ascend I
Arise, my sweet Hero, love calls you away.   Abu. Bring me a cauldron, hot as Alecto's
[HERO opens the window.         kettle;
Hero. 0 my soul's joy! thy cheering voice I First Medusa's snaky whip shall try his mettle!
hear'Sdeath! his blood I'll bottle, and in the dark proLike notes from seraphs, rushing on my ear.          found
Lean. 0 come, my Hero, bless again my arms, I'll sprinkle libations, to the furies round.
My heart, still constant, beats with love's alarms i!  [MINERVA and HYMEN come forward,
Danger could work no change, nor time remove             ABUDAH starts; all stand amazed.
The honest warmth of undissembled love.        Min. Cease, hell-hound-infernal monster,
Haste then, sweet fair, thy lover's transport meet,  ceaseFly to his arms, and make his bliss complete.  I come, the blessed harbinger of peace,
[HERO shuts the window. To join Hymen's bands this constant pair;
That Heaven from which no secret is conceal'd,  The youth deserving, and the virtuous fair;
But every wish and thought must stand reveal'd, Their constancy and truth deserve my care.
VOL. I.... 2E       19




218                       HERO AND LEANDER.                                    [Aen L
Stand forth, my children-Hymen, join their                     FINALE.
~~~~~hands,  ~Lean. Joy and pleasure nowgo round
[A flourish of trumpets; they':kneel, and
HYMEN joins their hans.   Beauty's triumph is to-day;
HYMEN moins their hands.         Every voice in chorus sound,
Tis Wisdom consecrates the sacred bands.             Every voice in chorus sound,
This is Hymen's holiday.
SON —HYMEN..                          Dress a garland for the fair,..... GCare.and sorrow hither go;
Sweetest pleasures never ceasing,:     -                  Daffodilliest
* Blessings, which the gods present,  -                 Virgin lilies —'Joys, with length of years increasing,               Hymen says he'll have it so.: Rosy health, and sweet content,           Hero. Take my hand,you have my heart,
Await the fair, and deck the youth,                  Indeed, you     havit long ago
t oIndeed, you've had it long ago;
United:in the bandsof truth......United-in -thebandsoftruth. -.-And now we'll never, never partAnd when0old Time, with solemn pace,                 Hymen says he'll have it so.
Shall call to tell them, both must die;    Chorus. Joy and pleasure, &c.
Touch'd, as he views their fond embrace,     Saf    Cupid is a foolish boy
Hfe'll bless. them first, then pass them by.         Once he tried on me his bow;
Sweetest pleasures, &c.                     But I never felt a joy,
Abu. What then, is all my greatness come to            Till Hymen said he'd have it so.
* this'?                                Chorus. Joy and pleasure, &c.
Am-I then baffled by a paltry Miss   -         Abu.   Must I then give up the fair,
Your power, Madam, certainly prevails;                   And see them laughing at my wo;
Wisdom, I find, pays no respect to tails.              Live and lead a life of care?
Lean. 0 thanks, eternal thanks, to you be'              The devil sure would have it so.
given,                                 Chorus. Joy and pleasure, &c.
Thou best and brightest ornament of Heaven!.      
Mimn.,Now strike the sprightly lyre; all care   Sol.   Observe, ye fair, the moral here
Sol.    Observe, ye fair, the moral here —
away;                                            Let virtue in your bosoms glow,
To mirth and joy we dedicate the day;
I' raise an altar to love's holy flame,                 Hymen says he'll have it so.
Inscrib'd with Hero's and Leander's name.      Chorus. Joy and pleasure, &c.




IS-ABELLA:
T-HE: FATA:L MARRKIAGE::
-A TRAG E DY,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY THOMAS SOUTHERN.
REMARKS.
THIS tragedy was restored to the stage, after a long period of neglect, by Garrici, who made, many judicious
alterations, and omitted some comic scenes, which it must be confessed were not well adapted to the moral taste
of the age. In 1774, that inimitable actor appeared in the part of Biron, and contributed to the success of this exCellent drama, which it was reserved for our own day.to render irresistible and memorable, by the introduction
of Mrs. Siddons to a London audlience. That unrivalled mistress of the. heart gave a pathos and;mJportance to
Isabella, whichit had not before.received; and Miss O'Neil's impassioned and native excellence, in her late per-;sonation of the.character, will entitle her: to a situation in Thespian annals, not &far removed from. her great
Predecessor...
Of the ten plays written by Southern, Isabella and Oroonoko keep their place on tile iodern stage.:
DRAMATIS PERSON2E.
COVENT GARDEN.                                COVENT GARDSIN.
COUNT BALDWIN,......    Mr. Murray.            GENTLEMEN,..........  Messrs. Sargent, 4,e
BIRON,'...     Y.........   OFFICER...Mr. Atkins.
BiRON'S-SON,'~........Master Chapman.'    SAMPSON, -m.m......o.n..s.. r s Simmo.n
CARLOS,............  Mr. Abbot.VILLEROY,           E.............ISABELA,  iMis i.... 
BELFORD..........    Claremont.         NURSE,                      Mrs. Emery.
Bravoes, Officers, Servanrts, Men, and Women.
ScENL. —,Brussels.
ACT J.                         Car.:But live in hopes! Why, hope is the
ready road, the lover's baiting place; and for
SCENE I.-The Street.                 aught you know, but one stage short of the pos
ter VEOsession of your mistress.
i. l. But my hopes, I fear, are more of my own
Car. This constancy of yours will establish an making than -hers; and proceed rather from my
immortal reputation among the women.            wishes, than any encouragement she has given
Vil. If it would establish me with Isabella. —.i me.
Car. Follow her, follow:her: Troy town was    Car. That I can't tell: the sex is:veryvarious:
won at last.. -: -':    there are no certain measures to be prescribed or
Vil. I have followed:her these seven years, and followed, in making our approaches to:thole wom en.
now but live in hopes.                          All that we have to:do,:I thinlkis to at telpt thew
219




220                                ISABELLA                                     LAcl t
in the weakest part. Press them but hard, and And more engage my love, to make you mine 
they will all fall under the necessity of a surren- When yet a virgin, free, and undispos'd,
der at last. That fa'our comes at once; and I lov'd, but saw you only with mine eyes;
sometimes when we least expect it.           I could not reach the beauties of your soul:
Vil. I'm going to visit her.              I have since liv'd in contemplation,
Car. What interest a brother-in-law can have And long experience, of your growing goodness:
with her, depend upon.                       What then was passion, is my judgment now,
Vil. I know your interest, and I thank you.   Through all the several changes of your life,
Car. You are prevented; see, the mourner' Confirm'd and settled in adorning you.
comes:                                Isa. Nay, then I must be gone. If you are my
She weeps, as seven years were seven hours;          friend,
So fresh, unfading, is the memory    -  -   If you regard my little interest,
Of my poor brother Biron's death:            No more of this.
I leave you to your opportunity.             I'm going to my father: he needs not an excuse
[Exit VILLEROY. To use me ill: pray leave me to the trial.
Though I have taken care to root her from our    Vil. I'm only born to be what you would have
house,                                       me,
I would transplant her into Villeroy's —--   The creature of your power, and must obey,
There is an evil fate that waits upon her,   In every thing obey you. I am going:
To which I wish. him wedded-only him;        But all good fortune go along with you.  [Exit.
His upstart family, with haughty brow,         Isa. I shall need all your wishes(Though Villeroy and myself are seeming friends,)  [Knocks.
Look down upon.our house; his sister too,    Lock'd! and fast!
Whose hand I ask'&, and was with scorn refus'd, Where is the charity that us'd to stand
Lives in my breast, and fires me to revenge. —- In our forefathers' hospitable days
They bend this way.-                         At great men's doors,
Perhaps, at last, she seeks my father's doors;  Like the good angel of the family,
They shall be shut, and he prepar'd to give  With open arms taking the needy in,
The beggar and her brat a cold reception.    To feed and clothe, to comfort and relieve, them?
That boy's an adder in my path-they come,    Now, even their gates are shut against the poor.
I'll stand apart, and watch their motions.                 Enter SAMPSON.
[Exit.
-E xi. ESamp. Well, what's to do now, I trow. You
Enter VILLEROY and ISABELLA, fith her Child. knock as loud as if you were invited; and that's
Isa. Why do ydou follow'me? you know I am   more -than I heard of; but I can tell you, you may
A bankrupt every wav; tob far engag'd       look twice about you for:: a welcome in a great
Ever to make return.: I own you have been    man's.family, before you find it, unless you bring
More than a brother to me, my friend:        it along with you.
And at a'time when friends are found no more,    Isa. I hope I do, Sir
A friend to my misfortunes.                  Is your lord at home 2
fil. I must be                               Samp. My lord at home!
Always your friend.                            Isa. Count Baldwin lives here still?
Isa. I have known and found you              Samp. Ay, ay, Count Baldwin does live here;
Iruly my friend: and would I could be yours;   and I am his porter; but what's that to the purBut the unfortunate cannot be friends:       pose, good woman, of my lord's being at home?
Pray begone,                                   Isa. Why, don't you know me, friend?
Take warning, and be happy..          Samnp. Not I, not I, Mistress; I may have seen
Vil. Happiness!!                          you before, or so; but men of employment must
There's none for me without you. —.-:: -   forget their acquaintance; especially such as we
What serve the goods of fortune for? To raise   are never to be the better for.
My hopes, that you at last will share. them with      \           [Going to shut the door.
"'~ m~ie. -~~ - -'''"" -' -.,~~~~! i         Enter NURSE.
Isa. I must not hear you.
Vil. Thus, at this awful distance, I have serv'd    Nurse.'Handsomer words should become you,
A seven years' bondage-Do I call it bondage,_  and mend your manners, Sampson; do you know
When I can never wish to be redeem'd.       who you prate to 2
No, let me rather linger out a life            isa. I am glad you know me, Nurse.
Of expectation, that you may be mine,          N Nurse. Marry, Heaven forbid, Madam, that I
Than be restor'd to the indifference         should ever forget you, or my little jewel: pray go
Of seeing you, without this pleasing pain:   in. [ISABELLA goes in with her Child.] Now my
I've lost myself, and never would be found,  blessing go along with you, wherever you go, or
But in these arms.'!   whatever you are about. Fie, Sampson, how
isa:: Oh, I: have heard' all this!.   couldst thou'be' such a Saracen? A Turk would
-But must no more   the charmer is no have been abetter Christian, than to have done
My buried husband rises in the face    [more: so barbarously by so good a lady.
Of my dear boy, and chides me for my stay:     Samp.' Why, look you, Nurse, I know you of
Canst thou- forgive: me, child 2   - -       old: by your good will, you would have a finger
Vil. What can 1 say?                     in every body's pye; -but mark the end on't. If
The arguments that make against  my hopes    I am- called ito account:about it, I know what I
Prevail upon my heart;, and- fix me more;    have to say.
Those pious:tears, you hourly throw away::Nurse. Marry come up here; say your plea.
Upon the grave, have all their quick'ning charms, sure, and spare not. Refuse his eldest son's




SCENE I.].                           S SABELLA.'221
widow and poor child the comfort of seeing him 1   C., Bald. Speak it again;
She does not trouble him so often.           Say still you are undone; and I will hear you,
Samp. Not that [ am against it, Nurse, but we With pleasure hear you....
are but servants, you know; we must have no   Isa. Would my ruin please you? 
likings, but our lord's, and must do as we are or-   C. Bald. Beyond all other pleasures.
dered. But what is the business, Nurse? You   Isa.. Then you are pleas'd-.for.I am most uniave been -in the family before I came! into the     done.
world: what's the reason, pray, that this daugh-   C. Bald. 1 pray'd but for revenge, and -Heaven
ter-in-law, who- has so. good a report in -every     has heard,.
body's mouth, is so little'set by, by my lord:'  And sent it to my wishes: these gray hairs
Nurse. Why, 1 tell you, Sampson, more or Would have gone down in sorrow to the grave
less: I'll tell the truth, that's-my way, you know, Which you have dug for me, without the thought,
without adding or diminishing.'           The thought of leaving you more wretched here.
Samp. Ay, marry, Nurse.                      isa. Indeed I. am most wretched —
Nurse. My lord's eldest son, Biron by name, I lost with Biron all the joys of life'
the son of his bosom, and the son that he would  But.now its last supporting means are gone.
have loved best, if he had as many as king Pyra- All the kind helps that Heaven in pity rais'd,
mus of Troy; —this Biron, as 1 was saying, was In charitable pity to our'wants,
a lovely sweet gentleman, and, indeed, nobody At last have left us': now bereft of all,
could blame his father for loving him: he was a But this last trialof a cruel father,
son for the king of Spain; Heaven bless him! for To save us both freom sinking. Oh, my child
I was his nurse.' But now I come to the. point, Kneel with me, knock at nature in his heart:
Sampson; this Biron, without asking the advice Let the resemblance of a once lov'd son
of his friends, hand over head, as young men will Speak in this little one, who never wrong'd you,
have their vagaries, not having the fear of his fa- And plead the;fatherless and widow's cause.
ther before his eyes, as I may say, wilfully. marries Oh, if you ever hope to be forgiven,
th is Isabella.                 wilfu lly    Forget our faults, that' He'aen may pardon yours 
amp. How, wilfully! he should have had her   C. Bald. How'dare you mention' Heavenrt
consent, methinks..:Call to mitid
Nurse. No, wilfully marries her; and which  Your-perjur'd-vows; your piighted, broken faith
was worse, after she, had settled all her' fortune To Heaven' and all things:hly;were you not
upon a nunnery, which she broke out of to run  Devoted, wedded to a life recluse,
away with him.: They say they-had the church's The sacred'habit on, profess'd and sworn,
forgiveness, but I hliad rather it had'been his' fa- A votary for ever i'Can you think
ther's.'                                      The sacrilegious wretch, that robs the shrine,
Samp. Why, in good truth, and. [think our Is thunder proof' 
young master was not in the wrong but in marry-   Isa. There, there, began my woes:. 
ang without a portion.'    Oh! had I never seen my' Biron's face,
Nurse. That was the quarrel, I believe Samp- Had he not tempted me,' I haid' not fallen,
son: upon this my old lord would never see him: But stillcontinued innocent' andri ee
disinherited him: took his younger brotheri'Carlos'. Of a bad'world' Which only -e had power
into favour, whom he never cared for bef're: and,  To reconcile, and make me try again.
at last, forced Biron to go to the siege of Candy,   C. Bald. Your own inconstancy
where he was killed.''''    Reconcil'd you to the w"orld..:'
Samp. Alack a-day, poor gentleman!.  He had no hand: to bringyou back again,
Nurse. For which my old lord dhates her, as'if But what you gave him. Circe! you prevail'd'
she had been the cause of his going thither.  Upon his honest mind, transforming him
Samp. Alas, poor lady! she has suffered for it; From virtue, and himself, into whfat shapes
she has lived a great while a widow'!        You had occasion for' and'what' he did
Nurse. A  great while indeed, for a-young    asfirstinspir'd by;'yu. 
woman, Sampson.                                Isa. Not for myself —for I am past the hopes
Sainp. Gad so! here they come; I won't ven- Of being' heaid'-butfor this innidentture to be seen.               [ They retire.  And then 1 never will disturb' you more.
C. Bald. I almost pity'the unhappy child:
Enter CouNT BALDWIN, ISABELLA, and her   But, being yours-:
Child.                      Isa. Lookl on him i s your son's;
And let this part in him answer for mine.
C. Bald. Whoever of your friends directed you, Oh! save; defend him, save him from the wronga
Misguided and abus'd you.-. There's your That fall upon the poor 
What could you expect from me 2       way:    C. Bald. It'touches me-'' isa.  Oh, I have nothing to expect:on earth!    And I will save him —But to keep him safe,
But misery is very apt to talk:.  Never come near him more.:
I thought'l might be heard..              Isa. What! take him from me i
C.' Bald. What can you say'  No, we must never part....
Is there in eloquence, can there be in Iwords,  I live but in my child.
A reparation of the injuries,                No, let me pray in vain, and beg my bread:
The great calamities, that you have brought  From door to door, to feed his daily wants,
On me and mine..You have destroy'd those Rather than' always lose him.
hopes                                  C. Bald. Then have your child, and feed him
I fondly rais'd, through my declining life,' with your prayer.
To rest my age'upon; and most undone me.'     Isa. Then Heaven have mercy on me!
Isa. I have undone myself too.      -'                               [Exit, with Child,




2  ISAB BEL:LA.                               [AcrT M
C. Bald. You rascal, slave What'do I keep you.:  -;SCENE II.-House..  --
for -:.
*    for? q.:....ISABELLA and NURSE dicCovered.' ISABELLAr S SO
How came this woman in'... 
Samp. Why, indeed, my lord, I did as good as.                   at play.
tell her before, my thoughts upon the matter-:-Isa. Sooner or later, all. things pass away,
C. Bald.: Did you so, Sir  -Now then tell'her i And are no more.. The beggar and the king,
mine;.-With equal steps, tread forward to' their end:
Tell heri Esent you to her.  The:reconciling grave
Begone, go all together-I shall,be glad to hear Swallows distinction first, that made us foes-;
of you:; but:never, never, see me.more-    -   Then all alike lie down in peace together.
";...- [Drives them off.
~..    A:  Nurse.'Good Madam, be comforted.
f..-.;.;       ACT II.............-Isa. Do I deserve to be this outcast wretchS'CENE,i~v ti-The Street.       Abandon'd thus, and lost? But'tis my lot,
The will of Heaven, and I must not complain:
Enter VILLEROY acd CARLOS, meeting.        I will not for myself: let me bear all
-....'              The violence of your wrath; but spare my child
Vil. My friend, I fear to ask —but Isabella-    Let not my sins be visited on him:
The lovely widowIs tears, her orphan's cries,  They.are; they must: a general ruin falls
Thy father must feel for. them    No, I read,    On every thing about me! thou art lost,
I read their cold reception in ithine eyes-    Poor Nurse, by being,near me.
Thou pitiest them —though.Baldwin-but I spare, Nurse. I. can work,.or beg, to do you service.
him:                                    Isa, Could l forget
For Carlos' sake thou art no son of his.       What I have been, I:might the better bear
There.needs not this to endear thee more to me.  What I am destin'd( to. Wild hurrying thoughts
Car. My Villeroy, the fatherless, the~widow,   Start every way from my distracted soul
Are termnsnot-understood within these gates-    To find out hope, and only meet despair.
You must forgive him.; Sir, he thinks this woman  What answer have I?
Is Biron's fate, that hurried him to death 
i must:not. think on't, lest my friendship stagger.          Enter SAMPSON.
My friend's, my sister's, mutual advantage,      Samp. Why, truly, very little to the purpose
Have reconcil'd my bosom: to its task.        like a Jew as he is, he says you have had more
Vil. Advantage! think not I intend to raise    already than the jewels are worth: he wishes you
An interest from isabella's wrongs.            would rather think of redeeming'em, than expect.
Your. father. may have -interested ends        any more money upon'em.                [Exit.:
In her undoing, but my heart has none.;          Isa. So:-Poverty at home, and debts abroad!
Her happinessmust be my-interest,              My present fortune bad; my hopes yet worse!
And that I Would restore..........          What will become of m.e?
Car. Why, so I mean.   -'           This ring is all I have left of value now;:
These hard shipS,'thiat my father lays; upon her,'Twas given me by my husband; his first gift
I'm sorry for, and wish.I could prevent.;      Upon our marriage: I've always kept it.
But he will have his:way.  Since there's no  With.my best care, the treasure next my life'
hope ~;.-:.  -,   -'              And'now but part with it to support life,
From her prosperity, her change of fortune     Which onlycan be earer.  Take it,Nurse,
May alterthe co. pition'of-her thoughts,.     Take care of it:.nd ma k         e for yu'........ Manage it'. as the last remaining friend
i She is., above her,'fortune.',..That would relieve us. [Exit NURSE.] Heaven
Car,'Try her again.:: Women commonly love          can only tell
According to the circ umstances they are in.   Where we shall find another-My dear boy!
Vil. Common women may-'          The labour of his birth was lighter to me
No: Though.I live but in the, hopes of her,   Than of my fondness now; my fears for him
And' languish for th' enjoymevnt of those hopes,.  Are more than, in that hour of hovering death,
I'd rather. pine, in,a.consuming want:   They could be for"myself.   Her minds me not,
Of what' I'wish, than'ha e' tihe blessing mine,    His little' sports have taken up his thoughts:
From any reason'but consenting love,.          Oh, may they never feel the pangs of mine!
Oh! let me never.,have.it to remember,         Thinking will makeie   mad: why must I think,
[ could betray'her coidly to om mply:           When no thought brings me comfort?
W-hen.'a..'cljea:r.,gen'rous choiice:'.bestows her on
-I~:.~:':I. ~Enter NURs E.
me,,.......
I know to value the unequal'd gift:              Nurse. Oh Madam! you are:uterly ruined
T would not: have it but to value it..         and undone.; your credltors of all kinds are come
Car.' "Takle your own. wayw;' remnember what I in upon you;' they. have'mustered up a regiment
offer'd.             w                of rogues, that are comie to. plunder your house,
Vil. I understaid it so.                    and seize upon all you have in the.world: theyare
1'11 serve her for herself,'withouut the thought'    below.. What will you do, Ma/da m?
Of a re.w;ard...... -.',.    [Exit.   Isa. D6o! nothing! no,for I am born to suffer
Car. 4fAreei.that point-between you.'    -'..En.       a.
If you'marry her any way'. you doimy business.
I. know-  him.-Whatt his generous soul intend    Car. Oh, sister  can I call you by that name
iipxins my plots-I-! first to' IsbalJ la:-     And be the son of this inhuman man,
must keep uPp appearances with:her too..   Inveterate.to your ruin.?,an you think
[Exit. Of any way that I canmserveyou in?




searlES.IIL.]                     I S A:ELA  LA.                                  223
But what enrages most my sense of grief,..    Vil. I'm most unhappy that. my services,
My:sorrow,. for your wrongs, is, that my father,. Can be suspected to design upon you;.'
Foreknowing well the storm that was. to:fall, -,- i I nave no farther ends than to redeem. you
Has order'd, me not to-appear for you,..:-  From. fortune's wrongs; to show myself at last,.-Isa. I thank your pity;. my poor husbands fell. What I have long profess'd to be, your friend:
For disobeying him; do not you stay.        Allow me that; and to convince you more,
To venture his displeasure: too for:me.... -.: (  That- I intend only your interest, 
Car. Y     ou:must resolve on something-::.. I  Forgive what I have done, and in amends.....[Exit.  (If that can make you any, that can please you)
-jlsa. Hark, they. are coming: let.the.torent i'll tear myself for ever from: my hopes,
roar:                                Stifle this.flaming passion in my soul,
It can but overwhelm me in its fall;.. -    And mention my unlucky love no more.
And life and death are both alike to me..,   Isa. This generosity will' ruin me.. [Aside.
[Exeunt.    Vil. Nay, if the blessing of my looking on you
Disturbs your peace, I will do all 1 can;
SCENE III. —Anti-Chamber in ISAI3ELLA'S   To keep away, and never see you more. [Going
House.                       Car. You must not go.
Vil. Could Isabella speak
CARLOs and ViLE-ROY,.ith OFFIC.....  Those few short words, I should be rooted;here,
f7l. No, farther violence-  -    -  1And never move but upon her commands. 
Car.. Speak to him,. sister; do:not throw away
The debt in all is but four thousand crowns:                                       a
A fortune that invites you to be happy.:
Were it ten times the sum, 1 think you know'    A fortune thatinvites you to be happy.
My fortune ver~y; well' cian answeir it.~'''' In your extremity he begs your love;
And has deserv'd it nobly. Think upon.
You have myword for this:-I'll see you paid  Andhas deservd it nobly.  Thinkupn
ae m  d           Your lost -condition, helpless and alone.Off-. That's as much as we can desire: so we Though now you havea friend, theltime mus
have- the money, no matter whence it'comes.'   come
Vil. To-morrow- you shall have it.'":         come
Car. Thus far all s well-    T'hat you.will want one thim you may secure
Car. Thusfar all's well':.-.~..\'''a'! ": i'; aTo be a friend, a.father, a husband, to you.
Enter IsABELLA and NURSE, -With the Child.    Isa. A husband!  - 
Car. You. have discharg'd your duty to. the
And now my sister comes to crown the work.            dead,
[Aside. And to the living!'tis a wilfulness
Isa. Where are these ravening blood hounds, Not to give way to your.necessities-i:
that pursue  -.                       That force you to this marriage.
In a full t.y, gaping to swallow meN...   Nurse. What must become- of this poor innoI'meet your rage, and come to be devour'd;           cence.....
Say, which way are you to dispose of me;        Car. He wants a father to protect hisyouth,
To dungeons, darkness, death?.    And rear him up. to virtue:.youw-must bear.
Car. Have patience..'. -. The future blame, and answer to the world,
Isa. Patience!'....,  When you refuse the easy, honest means..~ (i. You'll excuse. us, we:are but in our office. Of taking care of him.
Debts must be paid.. -                Isa..Do not: think. I need. 
Isa. My death will pay you all.:        Your reasons to confirm my gratitude;.  [Distractedly. I have a soul that's truly sensible' 
01,. While there is law to be had, people will Of your great worth, and busy to contrive,
nave their own..  [;To VILLEROY.
Vil.'Tis very fit they should; but pray be If possible, to make you a return.. 
gone,                                  Vil. Oh, easily possible!
To-morrow certainly-     [Exeunt O'rFICERs.   Isa. It cannot be your way:: my pleasures are
Isa. What of to-morrow?                   Buried, and cold in.my dead husband's grave;
Must I be reserv'd for fresh afflictions.   And should I..wrong the truth, myself; and you, -
ViiL. For long happiness of life, I hope.  To say that I can ever love againt?   i. -':
Isa. There is no hope for me..         I owe this declaration to myself. i.
The load grows light,:when.we resolve to bear:   But,,as a.proof that I owe all to you,-:
I'm ready for my trial....   If, after-what II have said,. you can resolve'.
Car. Pray, be calm,......                 To think me worth,:your love-Where am 1 go.
And know your friends.,                              ing 
Isa. My friends  have I a friend?. You cannot think it;'tis impossible. - n
Car. A faithfulfriend; in your.extremest need,   Vil. Impossible!
Villeroy came in to save you-....          Isa,..You-should not ask me now, nor should A
Isa. Save me! How.         grant,,..
Car.:By satisfying all- your creditors.   I am.so much oblig'd; that to consent,
Isa.'Which way? for what?   Would want. a name to recommend the: gift:
ViV;: Let me be, understood,.Twould show. me poor,, indebted, and comipell'd.
And then condemn me: you have given me leave Designing, mercenary: and I know
To be your friend and in that only name      You would not wish to:think I could be bought
I now appear before you.. I could wish..   Vil. Be boughtJ! where is the price that cai
There had been no occasion of a friend,              - Bpretend             p
Because I khbw you hate to be oblig'd;        To bargain for you? lNot in Fortune's power.
And stillI more ioAth to be oblig'd bv me.   The joys. of Heaven, and love; must be bestowd,.Isa.'Twas th'at I.would avoid -    [Aside. They arenot to-be. sold, and cannot be deserv'd,




;224                               ISABELLA.                                  [ACT m
Isa. Some other time I'll hear you on this sub- Thy duty gives thy father;-but, my son,
ject.                                We must not let resentment choke our justice;
Vil. Nay, then, there is no time so fit for me.'Tis fit that Villeroy know he has no claim
Since you consent to hear me, hear me now;   From me, in right of Isabella.-Biron,
That you may grant: you are above            (Whose name brings tears) when wedded to this
[Takes her hand.          woman,
The little forms which circumscribe your sex;    By me abandon'd, sunk the little fortune
We differ but in time, let that be mine.    His uncle left, in vanity and fondness:
Isa. You think fit                         I am possess'd of those your brother's papers,
To get the better of me, and you shall;      Which now are Villeroy's, and, should aught reSince you will have it so-I will be yours.           main,
Vil. I take you at your word.             In justice it is his; from me to him
Isa. I give you all,                      You shall convey them-follow me, and take
My hand; and would I had a heart to give:        -them.               [Exit C. BALDWIN
But, if it ever can return again,              Car. Yes, I will take them; but ere I part with'Tis wholly yours.                                   them
Vil. Oh, ecstacy of joy!                 I will be sure my interest will not suffer
Leave that to me. If all my services,        By these his high, refin'd fantastic notions
If all that man can fondly say or do,        Of equity and right.-What a paradox
Can beget love, love shall be born again.    Is man! My father here, who boasts his honour,
Oh, Carlos! now my friend and brother too:  And even but now was warm in praise of justice,
And, Nurse, I have eternal thanks for thee.  Can steel his heart against the widow's tears,
[Exit NURSE. And infant's wants: the widow and the infant
This night you must be mine.                Of Biron; of his son, his fav'rite son.
Let me command in this, and all my life'Tis ever thus: weak minds, who court opinion,
Shall be devoted to you.                    And dead to virtuous feeling, hide their wants
isa. On your word,                         In pompous affectation.-Now to VilleroyNever to press me to put off these weeds,    Ere this his friends, for he is much belov'd,
Which best become these melancholy thoughts,   Crowd to his house, and with their nuptial songs
You shall command me.                        Awake the wedded pair: I'll join the throng,
Vil. Witness, Heaven and earth!           And in my face, at least, bear joy and friendship.
Against my soul, when I do any thing                                               [Exit'ro give you a disquiet.                      SCENE II.-A  Ball Room in VILLEROY'S
Car. I long to wish you joy.
Vil. You'll be a witness of my happiness                     House.
Car. For once I'll be my sister's father,  A band of music, with FRIENDS of VILLEROY.
And give her to you.
Vil. Next my Isabella,
Be near my heart: I am for ever yours.         Friend. Where's your master, my good friend'
[Exeunt.   Ser. Within, Sir,
~ACT Il    Preparing for the welcome of his friends.
ACT II1.:        Friend. Acquaint him we are here i yet stay,
SCENE. —COUNT BALDWIN'S House.         The voice of music gently shall surprise hitn,
And breathe our salutations to his ear.
Strike up the strain to Villeroy's happiness,
C. Bald. Married to Villeroy, say'st thou?  To Isabella's-But he's here already.
Car. Yes, my lord,
Last night the priest perform'd his holy office,
And made them one.                             Vil. My friends, let me embrace you:
C. Bald. Misfortune join them!            Welcome allAnd may her violated vows pull down         What means this preparation?
A lasting curse, a constancy of sorrow                                 [Seeing the musie
On both their heads.                          Friend. A slight token
Car. Soon he'll hate her:                 Of our best wishes for your growing happiness.Though warm and violent in his raptures now,   You must permit our friendshipWhern "'11 enjoyment palls his sicken'd sense,  Vil. You oblige meAnd reason with satiety returns,              Friend. But your lovely bride,
Her cold constrain'd acceptance of his hand  That wonder of her sex, she must appear,    )
Will gall his pride, which (though of late o'er- And add new brightness to this happy morning.
power'd                                Vil. She is not yet prepar'd; and let her will,
By stronger passions) will, as they grow weak,   My worthiest friend, determine her behaviour;
Rise in full force, and pour its vengeance on her. To win, and not to force her disposition,
C. Bald. Now, Carlos, take example to thy Has been my seven years' task. She will, anon.
Let Biron's disobedience, and the curse   [aid; Speak welcome to you all. The music stays.
He took into his bosom, prove a warning,        [VILLEROY and his friends seat themselves
A monitor to thee, to keep thy duty 
Firm and unshaken.
Car. May those rankling wounds,             Woman. Let all, let all be gay,
Which Biron's disobedience gave my father,             Begin the rapt'rous lay;
Be heal'd by me.                                       Let mirth, let mirth and joy
~C. Bald. With tears, I thank thee,: Carlos-.    Each happy hour enmplos
zAnd may'st thou everfeel those inward joys,            Of thisfair bridal day.




SCENE II.]                         I S ABELLA.                                    22
Man.   Ye love-wing'd hours, yourflight,   Thy virtues have diffus'd themselves around,
Your downy flight, prepare;     And made them all as happy as myself.
Bring every soft delight            Isa. I feel their favours with a grateful heart,
To sooth the brave and fair.    And willingly comply.
Hail, happy pair, thus in each other bless'd;
Re ever free from care, of every joy possess'd!
fil. I thank you for the proof of your affec-      the gifts the gods intend ye;
tion:                                      Grateful meet the proffer'd joy;
[ am so much transported with the thoughts       Truth and honour shall attend ye;
Of what I am, I know not'what to do.               Charms, that ne'er can change or cloy.
My Isabella!-but possessing her,                Oh, the raptures of possessing,
Who would not lose himself.-You'll pardon         Taking beauty to thy arms!
me-                                      Oh, the joy, the lasting blessing,
Oh! there was nothing wanting to my soul          When with virtue beauty charms!
But the kind wishes of my loving friends-        Purerflames shall gently warm. ye;
Where's Carlos now  - Love and honour both shall charm thee.
Methinks I am but half myself without him.     Car. You'll take my advice another time, sister.
Friend. This is wonderful! married, and yet   Vil. What have you done? A rising smile
in raptures.                        Stole from her thoughts, just redd'ning on her
til. Oh! when you all get wives, and such as And you have dash'd it.           [cheek,
mine,                                  Car. I'm sorry for't.
(If such another woman can be found)           Car. I'm sorry for't..Vil. My friends, you will forgive me, when I
You will rave too, dote on the dear content,
And prattle in their praise out of all bounds.       own,
I must prefer'her peace to all the world!
Enter ISABELLA and Child.          Come, Isabella, let us lead the way:
Within we'll speak our welcome to our friends,
My Isabella! Oh, the joy of my heart,        And crown the happy festival with joy.
That 1 have leave at last to call you mine!                                   [  euh
But let me look upon you, view you well.
This is a welcome gallantry, indeed!                   SCENE II —A Room.
I durst not ask, but it was kind to grant,
Just at this time; dispensing with your dress
Upon this second day, to greet our friends.   Samp. Ay, marry, Nurse, here's a master, inIsa. Black might be ominous;              deed: He'll double our wages for us! If he comes
I would not bring ill luck along with me.   on as fast with my lady as he does with his serVil. Oh, if your melancholy thoughts. could vants, we are all in the way to be well pleased.
change                       [cures   Nurse. He's in a rare humour; if she be in as
With shifting of your dress-Time has done good a oneIncredible this way, and may again.            Samp. If she be, marry, we may even say, they'
Isa. I could have wish'd, if you had thought have begot it upon one another.
it fit,                               Nurse. Well; why don't you go back again to
Oui marriage had not been so public.        your old count? You thought your throat cut, I
Vil. Do not you grudge me my excess of love; warrant you, to be turned out of a nobleman's
That was the cause it could not be conceal'd:    service.
Besides,'twould injure the opinion           Samp. For the future, I will never serve in a
I have of my good fortune, having you;      house, where the master or mistress of it lie
And lessen it in other people's thoughts.   single: they are out of humour with every body
Isa. I have no more to say.               when they are not pleased themselves. Now,
this matrimony makes every thing go well.
-  Enter CARLOS.              There's mirth and money stirring about, when
Vil. My Carlos too, who came in to the sup- those matters go as they should do.
port                                  Nurse. Indeed, this matrimony, SampsonOf our bad fortune, has an honest right,      Samp. Ah, Nurse! this matrimony is a very
In better times, to share the good with us.  good thing-but what, now my lady is mar:
Car. I come to claim that right, to share your ried, I hope we shall have company come to the
joy;                                house: there's something always coming from one
To wish you joy; and find it in myself;    gentleman or other upon those occasions, if my
For a friend's happiness reflects a warmth,  lady loves company. This feasting looks well,
A kindly comfort, into every heart          Nurse. Odso, my master: we must not be seen.
That is not envious.                                                           [Exeunt.
VAil. He must be a friend indeed,          Enter VILLEROY, with a letter, and ISABELLA.
Who is not envious of a happiness
So absolute as mine; but if you are            Vil. I must away this moment-see his letter.'As I have reason to believe you are)       Sign'd by himself: alas! he could no more;
Concern'd for my well-being, there's the cause;  My brother's desperate, and cannot die
Thank her for what I am, and what must be.    In peace, but in my arms.
[Music.  Isa. So suddenly!
I see you mean a second entertainment.         Vil. Suddenly taken, on the road to Brussels;
My dearest Isabella, you must hear           To do us honour, love; unfortunate!
The raptures of my friends; from thee they Thus to be torn from thee, and all those charmfi
spring;                             Though cold to me and dead.
VOL. I....2F




226                                ISABELLA.                                  [ACT IT
Isa. I'm sorry for the cause.                Bel. Just as you would have it;'tis natural)
Vil. Oh! could I think,                  and will conceal you.
Could I persuade myself, that your concern     Bir. To-morrow you- shall be sure to find me
For me, or for my absence, were the spring,  here, as early as you please. This is the house,
The fountain, of these melancholy thoughts,  you have observed the street.-;  -:
My heart would dance, spite of the sad occasion,    Bel. I warrant you: your directions will carry
And be a gay companion in my journey.        me to my lodgings..                 [Exit.
Bir. Good night, my friend.. Enter C~ARLos.:-.....The long expected moment is arriv'd!
My good Carlos, why have you left my friends?  And if all here is well, my past sorrows.
Car. They are departed home.              Will only heighten my excess of joy.;..
They saw some sudden melancholy, news       And nothing will remain to. wish or hope for!
Had stolen the lively colour from your cheek —                                  [Knocks.
You had withdrawn, the bride,  alarm'd, had.:.         Enter SAMPSON.:  
follow'd:Mere ceremony- had been constraint; and this  Scp. Who's there  What would you have 
Good-natur'd rudenessGood-natur'd rudeness                         DBir. Is your lady at honme, friend?.
Vi Was the more obliging.  Samp. Why, truly, friend,'tismy employment
Vil. Was the more obliging.. amp. Why, tful ).
There, Carlos, is the cause. -  [Gives the letter. to answer impertinent questions: but, for my
Car. Unlucky accident!         [ther!-i lady's being at home, or no, that's just as my lady
Th' archbishop of Malines, your worthy bro- pleases.
With him to-night!  Sister, will you permit it'  DBir. But how shall I know whether it pleases
Vil. It must be so.
jIsa. You hear it must be so.                Samp. Why, if you'll take my word for it, you
Vil. Oh, that it must!                   may carry your errand back again; she never
Car. To leave your bride so soon!         pleases to see any body at this time of night, that
she does not know; and by your dress and apVil. But, having the possession of my love,
I am the better able to support'pearance, I am sure, you must be a stranger to 
her.
My absence, in the hopes of my return.       her.
Car. Your stay will be but short?          DBir. But I have business; and you don't know
Vil. It will seem long!                   how that may please her.
The longer that my Isabella sighs:             Samnp. Nay, if you have business, she is the
I shall be jealous of this rival grief,     best judge whether your business will please her
It takes so full possession of thy heart,   or no: therefore I will proceed in my office, and
There is not room enough for mighty love..  know of my lady whether or no she is pleased to
be at home or no-                    Going.
[Enter Servant, bows, and exit.    at home or noMy horses wait: farewell, my love! You, Carlos,: —       Enter NURSE.
Will act a brother's part, till I return,
And be the guardian here. -All, all  -have,    Nurse. Who's that you are so busy withal 
That's dear to me, I give up to your care. -  Methinks you might have found an answer in
Car. And I receive her as a- friend andbrother. fewer words; but, Sampson, you love to hear
Vii. Nay, stir not, love! for the-  night air is yourself prate sometimes, as well as your betters,
Vil. NLay, stir not, love! for the-night air is that lmust'say f or yo u.
cold,                               that I must say for you. Let me come to him.
And the dews fall-Here be our end of parting;  Who would you speak with, stranger?
Carloswill -see me- to my horse.;-   -  -.    DBir. With you, mistress, if you could help me
[Exit with CARLOS  to speak to yourladjy.
Isa. Oh, may thy brother better- all thy -hopes!   Nurse. Yesr,    I can-help you in acivil way;
Ad~ieu.                                      but can nobody do your business but my lady?
A sudden melancholy bakes my blood! -   -.    Bir. Not so well; but, if you carry her thins
Forgive me, Villeroy- I do not find         ring, she'll know my businessbetter.
That cheerful gratitude thy service asks: -    Nurse. There's no love-letter in it, I hope.
Yet, if 1: know my heart, and sure I (do,.: —   you look like a civil gentleman. In: an honest'Tis not averse from- honest obligation.: ---  way, I may bring you an answer.,, [Exit.
I'll to my chamber, and to bed: my mind  Bir. My old nurse, only.a little older!  They
My harass'd mind is weary.           [Exit. say the tongue grows always: mercy on me! ther
hers is seven years longer, since I left -her.' Yet
ACT:IV.                    there is something in these servants' folly pleases
nle: the cautious conduct of the- family- appears,
SCENE I.-The Street.              and speaks in their impertinence. Well, -mitress
Enter BIRON and BELFORD.
NURSE returns.
Bir. The longest day will-have an end; we are
got home at last                               Nurse. I have delivered your ring, Sir; pray
Bel. We have got our legs at liberty,; and  Heaven, you bring no bad news along with you!
liberty is home, where'er we go; though mine    Bir. Quite contrary, I hope.
lies most in England.                          Nurse. Nay, I hope so too; but my lady was
Bir. Pray let me call this yours: for what I can very much surprised when I gave it her. Sir, I
command in Brussels, you shall find your own. am but a servant, as a body may say; but if you'll
I have a father here who, perhaps, after seven walk in, that I may shut the doors, for we keep
years' absence. and costing him  nothing in my very orderly hours, I can show you into the partravels, nay be glad to see me. You know my lour, and help you to an answer, perhaps, as soon
torv —-How does my disguise become me?      as those that are wiser.             [Exit,




RSCEr It.]                          IS ABELL A.                                       227
Bir. I'll follow you —  -, tell me all,
Now r all my spirits hurry to my: heart,       For every thought confounds me.
And every sense has taken the alarm  —.         Bir. My best life! -at leisure, all. -    -
At this approaching interview;                   Isa. We thought you:dead;'kill'd at the'siege
Heavens! how I tremble!  [Exit.                         ofCandy.
Bir. There I fell among the dead;
SCENE II.-A Chamber.   - -    But hopes of life reviving, from my wounds,i'iEinter.IS~ABnELLA.: -' -.  - - ~ I was preserv'd, but to be- made a slave;..
I often writ to my' hard father; but never had:.lsa. I've heard of witches, magic spells, and  An answer; I writ to-thee too — " -  
charms,                                -Isa. What a world'of wo.  -  
That have made nature start from her old course: Had been -prevented but in hearing from you!
The sun-has been eclips'd, the moon brought   Bir. Alas! thou couldst not help me, -..   --
down                                    lsa. You do not know how much I- could have
From her career, still paler, and subdu'd              done;
To the abuses of:this-under world;  -.-         At least, I'm sure I could'have9 suffer'd all,   - -
Now I believe all possible.  This -ring,        Iwould have sold myself to slavery,
This little ring, with necromantic force,'     Without redemption; given up my child, -. —. —Has rais'd the ghost'of pleasure to my fears,  The dearest part of me to basest wantsConjur'd the sense'of honour and of love.       Bir. My little boy!.....
Into such shapes, they fright me from myself;    Isa. My-life! but to have heard;'-   -
I dare not think of them. -                You were alive —
Enter NLYRSE.                    Bir. No more, my love; complaining of the
past,
Nurse. Madam, the gentleman's below. "-    We lose the present joy.'Tis overprice -::
Isa. I had forgot,.pray let me speak with him.  Of all my.pains,' that thus we meet-again::-.  [Exit NURSE. I have a thousand things to say to -theeThis ring was the first present of my love       Isa. Wouldl:were past the hearing!  [Aside,
To Biron, my first husband: I must blush         Bir. How does my- child, my boyi imy fathex:
To think I have a second.  Biron died                  too  - -
(Still to my loss) at Candy; there's my hope.' I hear he's living still.
Oh, do I live to hope, that he died there  Isa. Well, both; both well;
It must be so; he's dead, and this ring left,  And may he prove a father to your hopes,
By his last breath, to some known faithful friend, Though we have found him none.    -
To bring me back again;                          Bir. Come, no more tears.
That's all I have to trust to-                  Isa. Seven long years of sorrow for your loss
Enter  ON. -  ABE looking at him.]   Have mourn'dl with me.
Bir. And all my days behind
My fears were woman's- I have view'd him  Shall be employ'd'in a kind recompense....:
And mletmel let' me say. it to. myself,.'  [all; For thy afflictions-Can't I see'my boy"'
live again, and rise but from his.tomb.        Isa. He's goneto-bed.; I'll have him brought
Bir, Have you forgot me quite?                       to you.
Isa. F.orgot you!...........    D.  Bir. To-morrow I shall see'hili:I'- want rest
Bir. Then farewell my disguise, and my mis- Myself, after this weary pilgrimage.-:'fortunes.                               Isa. Alas! what shall I get for you?
My Isabella!..  -.- BDir. Nothing but; rest,-my love:! Tonight 1
He goes to her;, she. shrieks, andfaints.       would -not
Isa. Ha!: Be known, if possible, to your family:
Bir. Oh!.ome again!!.                  I see my nurse is with you; her welcome
Thy Biron summons.thee to life and love;   -  Would be tedious at this time    -       -:
Thy once10 lov'd, ever loving husband calls-. -:'To-morrow will do better. -- -
Thy Biron speiaks. to thee.                      Isa. I'll dispose of her, and order every thing
isa.  My husband! Biron!                   As you would:have it.                  [ -Exit.
DiBir. Excess of love and joy, for my return,  Bir. Grant me but life, good Heaven! and
Has overpower'd her — I was to blame                -:    -.give-the means
To take thy. ex's.softness unprepar'd:         To make this wondrous:goodness- some amends;
But sinking thus,' thus dying in my,arms,     And let me then forget her, if I can!'
This ecstacy has made  my welcome more         0! she deserves of me much imorethat I
Than words could say..          Can lose for her, though I  again could venture
Isa. Where have I been? Why. do you keep A father, and his fortune, for her love!
him from me.       You wretched: fathers, blind as'fortune all!:
I knowhis voice: my life, upon the wing,       Not to perceive, that such a woman's worth'
Hears the soft' lute that brings me back again.;:   Weighs down the portions you provideyour sois.'Tis he himself, my Biron!'    What is your trash, what all your heaps of gold,
If I must fall, death's welcome in these arms.    Compar'd to this, my heart-felt'happiness'?-:
Bir. Live ever in these arms.                What has she, in my absence, undergone'
Isa. But pardon me,'.       I must not think of that; it drives me back
Excuse the wild disorder of my soul;. -       Upon myself, the fatal cause of all.
The joy, the strange surprising joy, of seeing youEnter IBAEL
Of seeing you again, distracted me-.                 SA
What hani  of Providence has brought you back-   Isa. I have obey'd your pleasur;:To your. awn home again?'     Every thing is ready for you.-'




228                                ISABELLA.                                  [AOT V
Bir. I can want nothing here: possessing thee,    Bir. Thou art not well.
All my desires are carried to their aim  Isa. Indeed I am not; I knew that before;
Of happiness: there's no room for a wish, -  But where's. the remedy?
But to continue still this blessing to me:     Bir. Rest will relieve thy cares: come, come
I know the way, my love. I shall sleep sound.        no more-;
Isa. Shall I attend you?                   I'll banish sorrow from thee.
Bir. By no means:                           Isa. Banish first the cause.
I've been so long a slave to others' pride,    Bir. Heaven knows how willingly.
To learn, at least, to wait upon myself;       Isa. You are the only cause.
You'll make haste after  -                     Bir. Am I the cause 2 the cause of thy mis.
Isa. I'll but say my prayers, and follow you-      fortunes?
[Exit BIRON.   Isa. The fatal innocent cause of all my woes.
My prayers! no, I must never pray again.      Bir. Is this my welcome home! This the rePrayers have their blessings, to reward our hopes;   ward
But I have nothing left to hope for more.   Of all my miseries, long labours, pains,
Oh, Biron, hadst thou come but one day sooner! And pining wants of wretched slavery,
[Weeping. Which I've outliv'd, only in hopes of thee?
-What's to be done-for something must be Am I thus paid at last for deathless love,
done.                               And call'd the cause of thy misfortune now 2
Two husbands! yet not one! married to both,  Isa. Inquire no more;'twill be explain'd too
And yet a wife to neither! Hold, my brain-           soon.                    [ Going off.
Ha! a lucky thought                           Bir. What! canst thou leave me too?
Works the: right way to rid me of them all;   Isa. Pray let me go:
All the reproaches, infamies, and scorns,   For both our sakes, permit meThat every tongue and finger will' find for me.  Bir. Rack me not with imaginations
Let the just horror of my apprehensions     Of things impossible-Thou canst not mean
But keep me warm —no matter what can come.  What thou hast said-Yet something she must'Tis but a blow-yet will I see him first-            mean.
Have a last look, to heighten my despair,   -'Twas madness all-Compose thyself, my love;
And then to rest for ever.-                 The fit is past; all may be well again:
Let us to bed.
BIRoN meets her.              Let us to bed.
Isa. To bed! You've rais'd the storm
Bir. Despair and rest for ever! Isabella!  Will sever us for ever.
These words are far from thy condition;     The rugged hand of fate has got between
And be they ever so. I heard thy voice,     Our meeting hearts, and thrusts them from their
And could not bear thy absence; come, my love!     joys.
You have stay'd long, there's nothing, nothing    Bir. Nothing shall ever part us.
sure,                                 Isa. Oh! there's a fatal story to be told;
Now to despair of in succeeding fate.       Be deaf to that, as Heaven has been to me!
Isa. I am contented to be miserable,      When thou shalt hear how much thou hast been
But not this way: I've been too long abus'd,         wrong'd,
And can believe no more.                    How wilt thou curse thy fond believing heart,
Let me sleep on, to be deceiv'd no more.    Tear me from the warm bosom of thy love,
Bir. Look up, my love, I never did deceive And throw me like a poisonous weed away!
thee,                               When I am dead, forgive and pity me.  [Exit.
Nor ever can; believe thyself, thy eyes       Bir. What can she mean  These doubtings
That first infiam'd and lit me to my love,           will distract me':
Those stars, that still must guide me to my joys. Some hidden mischief soon will burst to light;
Isa. And me to my undoing: I look round,    I cannot bear it   I must be satisfiedAnd find no path but leading to the grave.'Tis she, my wife, must clear this darkness to me.
Bir. I cannot understand thee.            She shqll-if the sad tale at last must come!
Isa. If marriages                         She is my fate, and best can speak my doom.
Are made in Heaven, they should be happier:                                       [Exit.
Why was I made this wretch                                   A 
Bir. Has marriage made thee wretched                               V.
Isa. Miserable, beyond the reach of comfort.        SCENE I.-A Chamber.
Bir. Do I live to hear thee say so?                 Enter    N and NURE
Isa. Why, what did I say                            Enter BIRON and NURSE.
Bir. That I have made thee miserable.       Bir. I know enough: th' important question
Isa. No: you are my only earthly happiness:   Of life or death, fearful to be resolv'd,
And my false tongue belied my honest heart,    Is clear'd to me: I see where it must end:
If it said otherwise.                       And need inquire no more-Pray let me have
Bir. And yet you said,                    Pen, ink, and paper; 1 must write a while,
Your marriage made you miserable.           And then I'll try to rest —to rest for ever!
Isa. I know not what 1 said:                                              Exit NURSa.
I've said too much, unless I could speak all.  Poor Isabella! now I know the cause,
Bir. Thy words are wild; my eyes, my ears, The cause of thy distress, and cannot wonder
my heart,                           That it has turn'd thy brain. If I look back
Were all so full of thee, so much employ'd  Upon thy loss, it will distract me too.
in wonder of thy charms, I could not find it;  Oh, any curse but this might be remov'd!
Now I perceive it plain-                    But'twas the rancorous malignity
fsaa You'll tell no body-                 Of all ill stars combin'd, of t-eaven and fate



IaENI EIIl.]                        I S A BELLA.                                     229
Hold, hold my impious tongue-Alas! 1 rave:      Bir. Come, Isabella, cane.EWhv do I tax the stars, or Heaven, or fate.    Isa. Hark! I'm call'd'!
My father and my brother are my fates,          Bir. You stay too long from me.
That drive me to my ruin. They knew well        Isa. A man's voice! in my bed! How came he
I was alive. Too well they knew how dear              there?
My Isabella-Oh! my wife no more!             Nothing but villany in this bad world.
How dear her love was to me-Yet they stood,   Here's physic fr your fever.
With a malicious silent joy, stood by,               [Draws a dagger, and goes backward to
And saw her give up all my happiness,                   the couch.
The treasure of her beauty, to another;       If husbands go to heaven,
Stood by, and saw her married to another:     Where do they go that send them?-This to
Oh, cruel father, and unnatural brother!               thyI have but to accuse you of my wrongs,               [Going to stab him, he rises, she shrieks.
And then to fall forgotten- Sleep or death    What do I see!
Sits heavy on me, and benumbs my pains:         Bir. Isabella, arm'd!
Either is welcome; but the hand of death        Isa. Against my husband's life!
Works always sure, and best can close my eyes.    Bir. Thou didst not think it?.
[Exit BIRON. - Isa. I cannot bear his sight; distraction, come,
Possess me all. ~
Enter NURSE and SAMPSON.
Shake off my chains, and hasten to my aidNurse. Here's strange things towards, Samp- Thou art my only cure          [Running out.
son: what will be the end of'em, do you think     DBir. Poor Isabella, she's not in a condition
Samp. Nay, marry, Nurse, I can't see so far; To give me any comfort, if she could;
but the law, I believe, is on Biron, the first hus- Lost to herself —as quickly I shall be
band's side.                                  To all the world-Horrors come fast around me;
Nurse. Yes; no question, he has the law on  My mind is overcast-the gath'ring clouds
his side.                                     Darken the prospect-I approach the brink,
Samp. For I have heard, the law says, a wo- And soon must leap the precipice! Oh! Heaven!
man must be a widow, all out seven years, before                                   [Kneels.
she can marry again, according to law.        While yet my senses are my own, thus, kneeling,
Nurse. Ay, so it does; and our lady has not Let me implore thy mercies on my wife:
been a widow altogether seven years.          Release her from her pangs; and if my reason,
Samp. Why, then, Nurse, mark my words, O'erwhelm'd with miseries, sink before the tempest
and say I told you so: the man must have his wife Pardon those crimes despair may bring upon me.
again, and all will do well.                           -Ri
Nurse. But if our master, Villeroy, comes back
again-                                                        Enter NURSE.
Samp. Why, if he does, he is not the first man    Nurse. Sir, there's somebody at the door must
that has had his wife taken from him,        needs speak with you; he won't tell his name.
Nurse. For fear of the worst, will you go to    Bir. I come to him.         [Exit NURSE
the old Count, desire him to come as soon as he'Tis Belford, I suppose; he little knows
can; there may be mischief, and he is able to pre- Of what has happen'd here; I wanted him,
vent it.                                      Must employ his friendship, and then-   [Exit.
Samp. Now you say something; now I take
you, Nurse; that will do well, indeed; mischief         SCENE III. —The Street.
should be prevented; a little thing will make a
quarrel, when there's a woman in the way.  I'll Enter CRS PE, and three Ruans.
about it instantly.-                [Exeunt.   Car. A younger brother! I was one too long
Not to prevent my being so again.
SCENE 11.-A CchaWmber.                  must be sudden. Younger brothers are
BIRON asleep on a Couch.           But lawful bastards of another name,
Thrust out of their nobility of birth
And family, tainted into trades.
Isa. Asleep so soon! Oh, happy, happy thou,  Shall I be one of them?-Bow, and retire,
Who thus can sleep! I never shall sleep more-  To make more room for the unwieldy heir
If then to sleep be to be happy, he,          To play the fool in? NoWho sleeps the longest, is the happiest;      But how shall I prevent it?-Biron comes
Death is the longest sleep-Oh, have a care!  To take possession of my father's loveMischief will thrive apace. Never wake more.'Would that were all! there is a birth-right too
To BIRoN. That he will seize. Besides, if Biron lives,
If ever thou didst love thy Isabel,           He will unfold some practices, which I
To-morrow must be the doomsday to thy peace.  Cannot well answer-therefore he shall die:
-   The sight of him disarms even death itself,  This night must be disposed of: I have means
And pleasure grows again                      That will not fail my purpose.-Here he comes.
With looking on him —Let me look my lastBut is a look enough for parting love                         Enter BIRON.
Sure I may take a kiss- Where am I going?      Bir. Ha! am I beset? I live but to revenge me.
Help, help me, Villeroy!-Mountains and seas       [They surround him, fighting:. VILLEROY
Divide your love, never to meet my shame.              enters with two Servants; they rescue
Hark!                                                 him; CARLOS and his partyfly.
What noise was that! A knocking at the gate!     Vil. How are you, Sir? Mortally hurt, I fear
It may be Villeroy-no matter who.             Take care and lead him in.
20




230.I SABELLA.                                  [ACT T.
Bir. I thank -you for this goodness, Sir; though  But could I hope my boy, my little one,'tis.                     Might find a father in thee-Oh, I faintBestow'd upon a very. wretch; and death,     1 can no more-Hear me, Heaven! Oh!. support
Though-from a villain's hand, had been to m   My wife, my Isabella-Bless my child!;
An act of kindness, and the height of mercy-   And take a poor unhappy     [Dies.
But I thank you, Sir.: H-.      e is led in.    Vii. He's gone-Let what will be. the conse-::-:.. X E  -~::quence,.SCENE: IV.7 —A Chmber.             I'll give it him. I have: involv'd myself,
Enter ISAnBELA. -.V.      And would be clear'd:; that must be thougnhton
now.
Isa." PMurder my: husband! Oh! I must not My care of her is lost in wild amaze.    [Exit.
dare  Isa. [Recovering.].Where have.I been?Lo think of living on;, my. desperate hand,          Methinks, I.stand upon
In a mad rage, may offer it again;           The brink of life,
Stab me any where but there.  Here's room  But, still detain'd, I cannot pass the strait;
In my own breast, to act the fury in,   [enough Denied to live, and yet I must not die:
The proper scene of mischief.    d. Doom'dto come. back, like a complaining ghost,
-  Going: to stab herself. VILLEROY runs in  To my unburied body.-Here it liesand prevents her, by taking the -dagger.          [ Throws herself by. BiRON'S body.
- from: her..                     My body, soul, and life! A little dust!
V- -.Vil.. Angels defend and save thee!   To cover our cold limbs in the dark graveAttempt thy precious:life! -:.   There, there, we shall sleep safe and sound toLay violent hands upon thy innocent self!            gether.              - --
Isa. Swear I am innocent, and ['ll believe you.
What:would you have with me? Pray, let me go.      Enter VILLEROY, with Servants.
-Are-you there, Sir! You-are the very man
-Areyou -there Sir? You are the very man        Vil. Poor wretch! upon the ground! She's not
Have done all this.-You would have made
herself!:Me believe you married me; but the fool     Remove her from the b
~~~~~~~~~Was wiser~.:.. [Servants going to raise her..Vil. Dost thou not know me, lovesa. Nevernever -'Tis Villeroy, thy husband.                  You have divorc'd us once, -but. shall no: more —
Nersa. I hadveu none ano husband-   [Weepang. Help, help me, Biron!-Ha! —bloody and dead!
everak did hut one and ther diedat Candy.    Oh, murder! murder! you have done this deed —
pi.a  He did, my life.                     Vengeance and murder!-bury us togetherDo any thing but part us.
isa. But swear it, quickly swear,            Vii. Gently, gently raise her.
Enter BIRON, bloody, leaning upon his sword.  She must be forc'd away.  [ -They carry her of.
Isa. Oh! they tear me!.C ut., off my hands
Before that screaming. evidence appears,Isa. Oh! they tear tine            off myhands-.In bloody proof against me- L-.    Let.me leave something with himin bloody proof against me —                 They' l  clasp him fast'
[She seeing. BIRoN, swoons; VILLEROY  They'll clasp him fast
- - he,,lps her.zg Bu  -' I        Oh,.cruel, cruel, men!.   -[NuRsEfollows her.
- helps her.
*. -ViZTil. Help there i. Nurse, where:are-you?  Vil. Send for all helps: all, all that I am worth,
Ha! I am distracted too!      [Sees BIRON.Shall cheaply buy her peace of. mind again.
Biron alive..      To a: Servant.
Bir. The only wretch on earth that must not.The storm grows loud- [Knocking at the door
-  live.'                            I am prepar'd for it. Now let them in.
V:.il..Biron or Villeroy must not, that's decreed.   Enter COUNT BALDWIN, CARLOS, BELFORD,
Bir. You've:sav'd me from the hands of mur-           EGMONT, with Servants.
derers:                   [plague-'Would you-had.not, for life's my greatest   C. Bald.. O, do I live to this unhappy day!
And then, of all the.world, you are the man  Where is my wretched son?
I would not be oblig'd to-Isabella!.          Car. Where is my brother?'
1 came to fall before thee: I had.died  -:. [ They see him,.and:gather about -the body.
Happy: not to have: found your Villeroy here:  Vili I hope, in heaven.
A long farewell, and -a-last parting kiss..    Car. Canst thou pity him!
- -  -..-. [Kisses her. Wish him. in. heaven, when thou hast done a deed
Vit. A kiss!:confusion! it must be: your last.  That must for ever cut thee from the hopes
iB.ir. iI:.-kno.w it. must —Here I give up that Of ever coming there?, Cdeath                               Vil. I do not blame youYou but delay,'d:.-since what is past has been  You have a brother's right to be concern'd
The: work:offate, thus we must finish it.   For his untimely death.
Thrust home, bes.sure.  -:.:.    [Falls.. Car..:Untimely death, indeed!
e.Vii.-Y. Alas! he -faints! some help there..  Vil. But yet you must not say: I was the cause
Bir.'Tis all in vain, my. sorrows soon will   Car. Not.-you the cause! Why, who should
end-                                         murder him 1.Oh,-.. Villeroy.!. let a.dying wretch:intreat you  We do not ask you to accuse yourself;
-To take this-letter to my father.;..My Isabella!   But. I must say, that you have murder'd him;
-.ouldst thou- but hear me, my last.. words should And will say nothing else, till.justice draws
bless thee.                          Upon our side, at the loud call of blood,  
I cannot,: though in death,. bequeath her to thee.  To execute so foul a murderer.
T....:[o FILLERoY..    Bel. Poor Biron! is this thy welcome home I




CENE. Iv.]                          ISAB ELLA.                                        231
Egnm. Rise, -Sir; there is a comfort in revenge.    Vil. I had forgot-your wretched, dying son,
Which is  ieft you.' [..To C. BALDWINw   Gave me this letter for you.,Car. Take the body hence.                                        [Gives it to C. BALDWIN.: -[BIRON is carried off. I dare deliver it. It speaks of me,
C. Bald.:What could provoke you?' I pray to have it read.
V/i. Nothing could provoke me                 C. Bald. You know the hand?
To a base murderi which, I find, you think      Bel. I know'tis Biron's hand.
Me guilty of. I'know'my innocence;             C. Bald. Pray read it.
My servants too can witness that I drew                          [BELFORD reads the Letter
My sword in his defence, to rescue him.              Sir,
Bel. Let the servants be called.                       I find I am come only to lay my'death
Egm. Let!s hear what-they can say.          at your door. I am now going out of the world,
Car. What they can say! why, what should but cannot forgive you, nor my brother Carlos,
servants sayI?                       for not hindering my poor wife Isabella from
They are his accomplices, his instruments,    marrying with Villeroy, when you both knew,
And will' not charge themselves.              from so many letters, that I was alive.  BIRON.
No, no, he came
No, no, he came                                  Vii. How! Did you know it then?
Unseasonably, (that;was all his crime)           C. Bal    Did you know it thenAmazement all
C. Bald. Amazement all!
Unluckily, to interrupt your sport:
You. were new married-married to his wife;             Enter CARLOS, With Oflcers.
And therefore you, and she, and all of you,   Oh, Carlos! are you come? Your brother here,
(For all'of you I must believe concern'd)     Here, in a wretched letter, lays his death
Combin'd to murder him out of the way.        To you and me.-Have you done any thing.
Bel. %Iflt be so-                           To hasten his sad end?
Car. It can be only so.                       Car. Bless me, Sir, I do any thing! who, 1'
Egm. Indeed it has a-face-  C. Bald. He talks. of letters that were sent
Car. As black as hell.                              to us.;-:C.: Bald.. The law will do me justice: send for I never heard of any-Did you know
the magistrate.                       He was alive?
Car. -I'll go- myself for him —. [Exit.   Car. Alive! Heaven knows, not I.
Vil.: These strong presumptions I must own,   C. Bald. Had you news of him, from a report,
Are violent against me; but I have   [indeed, Or letter, never?
A - witness; and on this side heaven too.       Car. Never, never, I.
— Open that door.                               Bel. That's strange, indeed: I know he often
[Door opens, and PEDRO is brought for-          writ                [ To C. BALDWIN.
ward by- VILLEROY's Servants. To lay before you the condition
Here's one can tell you all.'        Of his hard slavery: and more I know,
Ped. All, all; save me but from the rack, I'll That he had several answers to his letters.
confess all.    -    He said, they came from you, you are his brother'
Vil. You and your accomplices design'd        Car. Never from me.
To murder -Biron?-Speak.                       Bel. That will appear.
Ped. We did.:      The letters, I believe, are still about him;
Vil. Did you engage upon your private wrongs, For some of them I' saw but yesterday.
Or were emplov'd?                               C. Bald. What did -those answers say?
Ped. Hle never did us wrong.        B- el. I cannot speak to the particulars;'Vil. You were set on then 1                But I remember'well, the sum of them
Ped. We were set on.                        Was much the same, and all agreed,
Vil. What do you know of me?               That there was nothing to be hop'd from you:
Ped. Nothing, nothing:                      That'twas your barbarous resolution
You sav'd his life, and have discover'd me.   To let him perish there.Vil. He has acquitted me.                     C. Bald. Oh, Carlos! Carlos! hadst thou been
If you would be resolved of any thing,                 a brotherHe stands upon his answer.                      Car. This is a plot upon me. I never knew
Bel. Who set you on to act this horrid deed?  He was in slavery, or was alive,
C. Bald. i'll know the villain; give me quick  Or heard of him, before this fatal hour.
his name,                               Bel. There, Sir, I must confront you.
Or I will tear it from thy bleeding heart.    He sent you a letter, to my knowledge, last night;
Ped. I will confess.                        And you sent him word you would come to himC. Bald. Do then.                           I fear you came too soon.
Ped. It was my master, Carlos, your own son.   C. Bald.'Tis all too plain.C. Bald. Oh, monstrous! monstrous! most Bring out that wretch before him.
unnatural!                                                       [PEDRO produced.
Bel. Did he employ you to murder his own    Car. Ha! Pedro there!-Then I am caught,
brother?                                      indeed.
Ped. He did; and he was with us when'twas   Bel. You start at sight of him;
done.                                 He has confess'd the bloody deed.
C. Bald. If this be true, this horrid, horrid tale,   Car. Well then, he has confess'd,
It is hut just upon me; Biron's wrongs        And I must answer it.
Must be reveng'd; and I the cause of all!       Bel. Is there no more 
Egm. What will you do with him?              Car. Why!-what would you have morel. I
C. Bald. Take him apart-                            know the worst,
[ know too much.      [Exit PEDRO, guarded. And I expect it.




232                               ISABELLA.                                    ACT V.
C. Bald. Why hast thou done all this.    Will you not hear it? Then I must appeal
Car. Why, that which damns most men has To the bright throne-Call down the heaven-.y
ruin'd me;                          To witness how you use me.           [powers
The making of my fortune. Biron stood          C. Bald. Pray, give her way.
Between me and your favour; while he liv'd,   Isa. What have you done with him? He was
I had not that; hardly was thought a son,            here but now;
And not at all akin to your estate.          I saw him here. Oh,~ Biron, Biron! where,
I could not bear a younger brother's lot,    Where have they hid thee from  me? He is
To live depending upon courtesy-                     goneHad you provided for me like a father,      But here's a little flaming cherubimI had been still a brother.                    Child. Oh, save me, save me!
C. Bald.'Tis too true;                                      [Running to C. BALDWIN.
I never lov'd thee as I should have done;   I fear she'll kill me.
It was my sin, and I am punish'd for't.        C. Bald. She will not hurt thee.
Oh! never may distinction rise again          Isa. Will nothing do? I did not hope to find
in families: let parents be the same        Justice on earth;'tis not in heaven neither.
To all their children; common in their care,  Biron has watch'd his opportunityAnd in their love of them.-I am unhappy,    Softly! he steals it from the sleeping gods,.
For loving one too well.                    And sends it thus-             [Stabs herself.
Vil. You knew your brother liv'd; why did Now, now, I laugh at you, I defy you all,
you take                            You tyrant murderers!
Such pains to marry me to Isabella?           Vil. Call, call for help-Oh, Heaven! this is
Car. I had my reasons for't.-.too much.
Vil. More than I thought you had.           C. Bald. Oh, thou most injur'd innocence!
Car. But one was this-                             yet live,
I -knew my brother lov'd his wife so well,  Live but to witness- for me to the world,
That, if lie ever should come home again,   How much I do repent me of the wrongs,
He could not long outlive the loss of her.  Th' unnatural wrongs, which I have heap'd on
Bel. If you relied on that, why did you kill him?  thee.
Car. To make all sure. Now you are an- And have pulil'd down this judgment on us all.
swer'd all.                            Vil. Oh, speak, speak but a word of comfort to
Where must I go? I'm tired of your questions.      me!
C. Bald. I leave the judge to tell thee what   C. Bald. If the most tender father's care and
thou art;                                   love
A father cannot find a name for thee.       Of thee, and thy poor child, can make amendsTake him away-             [CARLOS is led of. Oh, yet look up and live.
Grant me, sweet Heaven! the patience to go   Isa. Where is that little wretch? 
through                                                          [ They raise her.
The torment of my cure-Here, here begins    I die in peace, to leave him to your care.
Thie operation.-Alas! she's mad.          I have a wretched mother's legacy,
A dying kiss-pray, let me give it him,.inter IsABELLA, distracted; and her Child run- My blessing; that, that's all I have to leave
ning.from her; Womenfollowing her.              thee.
Vil. My Isabella, poor unhappy wretch!    Oh, may thy father's virtues live in thee,
What can I say to her?                     And all his wrongs be buried in my grave!
Isa. Nothing, nothing;'tis a babbling world-                                   [ries
I'll hear no more on't.: When does the court sit?    Vil. She's gone, and all my joys of life with
I have a cause to try.                               her.                      [Exersnt.




THE QUAKER:
A. COMlICa OPERA,
IN TWO ACTS.
BY CHARLES DIBDIN.
REMARKS.
THE characters and songs of this agreeable melange are natural, the fable is consistent, and the incidents well
arranged. The music has been always admired.
Mr. Charles Dibdin was both author and composer of this, and a multitude of successful productions. Perhaps,
no similar instance can be produced, wherein individual powers have so eminently contributed to the welfare and
amusement of the British public; the army, the navy, the community in general, were highly indebted to this
gentleman for those multifarious and excellent vocal compositions, calculated to promote love of our country and
zeal to protect it. From the early age of seventeen, when our author composed his first opera, he was before the
public in every branch of his profession: and for twenty years, he was the sole writer, composer, and performer
of an entertainment, at his Sans Souci, which never failed in its influence over a delighted audience.
DRAMATIS PERSON.AE.
As originally acted at DRURY LANE, 1777.   COVENT GARDEN, 1809.   DRURY LANE, 1813.
STEADY...................Mr. Bannister......  Mr. Incledon............  Mr. Bellamy.
EAsY,............          Mr. Wrighten......   Mr. Davenport...............Mr. Maddocks.
LUBIN.....................Mr. Vernon........    Mr. Taylor...Mr.......... Horne.
SOLOMON,..................Mr. Parsons.......   Mr. Liston............ Mr. Lovegrove.
CICELY................Mrs. Love.........   Miss Leserve..............Mrs. Maddocks.
FLORETTA,..                  Miss Walpole....    Mrs. Liston...........Miss Kelly.
GILLIAN,.                   Mrs. Wrighten....   Miss Bolton..........         Mrs. Mountain.
Countrymen, &c.
ACT  I.                           And yet, ne'er leaving her before.
SCENE L                                  Hast'ning to see my love again,
I thought each furlong half a score.
An irregular Hill, carried quite to the back of the    They're long, methinksStage, so situated, that LUBRIN, who comesfrom
it during the symphony of the Air, is some-              DUET.-CICETDY and LUBIN.
times seen and sometimes concealed by the
Trees: a Cottage on one side near the front.    Cic. [At the window.] Who's there, I trow.
LDub. Look out, good mother, don't you know?
AIR.-LUBIN.'Tis Lubin.  How does Gillian do 1
And Hodge, and Margery, and Sue?'Midst thrushes, blackbirds, nightingales,     Cic. Not a whit better, Sir, for you.
Whose songs are echo'd from the vales,         Lub. Why, what's the matter.      Why d'ye
Trudging along through thick and thin,                     frown?
Thank fate, at last I've reach'd the door.     Cic. You shall know all, when I come down.
How pleas'd they'll be to let me in!             Lub. What is the meaning of all this 2
I've walk'd amain,                                 Oh here she comes.
VoL. 1.... 2 G  20*                                                                233




234                              THE QUAKER.                                     [ACTS
Enter CICELY.                        I lock'd up all my treasure,
Cic.         - Well, what's amiss'                 I journey'd many a mile,
Who are you, making all this stir 2.       And by my grief did measure
If to come in you mean,                      The passing time the while.
You may as well be jogging, Sir,             M  business done and over
While yet your boots are;green.                hastend back amain
Lub. I'm perfectly like one astound,               Lke an expecting lover,
1 know not, I declare,                       To view it once again.
Whether I'm walking on the ground,
Or flying in the air.                     But this delight was stifled
This usage is enough-to quite                  As it began to dawn,
Bereave one of one's wits.                I found the casket rifled,
Cic. Good-lack-a-day! and do you bite,             And all my treasure gone.
Pray, ever, in these fits?                         Enter EASY.
Lub. But you are a Jesting.
Cic.     Think so still.                     Lub. Here comes her father. I don't suppose
Lub. Where's Gillian.                     he had much hand in it; for so he had his afterCic.     She's not here:                   noon's nap in quiet, he was always for letting
She's gone abroad, Sir, she is ill;   things go as they would. [Aside.]  So, Master
She's dead, you cannot see her.       Easy, you have consented, I find, to marry your
She knows you not, did never see    daughter to another, after promising me over and
Your face in all her life:        over that nobody should have her but me.
In short, to-morrow she's to be      Easy. My wife desired me.
Another person's wife.              Lub. Your mind is strangely altered, farmer
Lu- J. Another person's wife   L           Easy. But dome one piece of justice, howeverCic. Another person's wife.                tell me who is it you intend for your' son-in-law!
Easy.:'Tis a rich one, Ilassure you.
I tell you we know nothing at all about you.    Lub. And so: you have bhroke'your word, and
Lub, You don't! Why then may happen my all for the lucre of gain. - And, pray now, don't
name'ent Lubin Blackthorn, and'tis likely I did you expect to be hooted out:of the village?
not set out six months ago to see my father down    Easy. I can't say I do.
in the west, and ask his consent to my marriage    Lub. Then they're a vile pack of wretches, and
with your daughter Gillian; and I warrant- you  I'll get away from them-as soon as I can. Go on,
I did not stay till my father died, to take' posses.. go on —let me know all.
sion of his farm and every thing that belonged to    Easy. You are in a passion, child, so I don't
him; nay, you'll want to make me believe pre- regard what you say; but I think I should have
sently that I'en't come now to settle affairs, and been out of my wits to have refused Mr. Steady,
take her back into the country with me.      the rich quaker.
Cic. Don't make a fool of yourself,:young man:    Lub.  What, is it he then? 
gret back to your farm, and graze your oxen.   Easy. It is.
You won't get a lamb out of iour fold, J-Lpromise    Lub.: What,-he that; you are steward to; he that
you.    -                                     does so much good all about; and he that gives a
Lub.::'Well, but in sober sadness, you.'en't portion -every May-day to a damsel, as a reward
serious, are you..-         for her sweetheart's ingenuity.
Cic. Serious!  Why don't I -tell. you, Gillian's   Easy. The same-you have seen the nature of
to be married to another to-morrow.         it-that villager who can boast of having done
Lub. Where is she. - I'll hear it from her own the most ingenious thing, claims aright todemand
mouth.                                       a farm, containing sixty acres, rent-free for seven
Cic. I believe about' this' time she is trying on years, and' ahundred pounds to stock it, together
her wedding suit.                            with whatever maiden he chooses, provided he
Lub. And who is this she is going to be mar- gains her consent: and it is a good custom; for
ried to? I'll see him, and know what he has done the young men, who formerly used to vie with
to deserve her more than I have.             one another in the feats of strength, now, as I
Cic. Done to deserve her!                  may say, vie with one another in feats of underLub. Yes, done to deserve her. You forget, I standing.
suppose, when I've carried her milk-pail for her,   Lub. And so he is to marry your daughter?
or taken her share of work in the hay-field, how    Easy. Things are as I tell you. And for that
you used to say, that I was a true' lover indeed; purpose he has taken Gillian into his own house,
but I don't desire to have any thing to say to you- had-hertaught music, and, to say the truth, she is
you'll -repent first.       -a different thing to what'she was when you saw
Cic. Poor young man!                       her last.
-Lub. Nay, but don't you think you have used    Lub. She is, indeed!: for, when 1 saw her last,
-me very ill, now   she told me that all' the riches in the world should
Cic.-.I; thought you said you would not speak a never make her forget me.
word:to mee?                                  Easy. But since she has changed her mind;
Lub. Nay, but dame Cicely —--              and it so falls out that to-morrow is May-day:Cic. Your servant. -If you have a mind to be a you would do well to study some ingenious thing,
brideman, we shall be glad to:see you.    [Exit. and get this portion for a more deserving damsel.:Lub:;A: very-pretty spot of work this! And so   Lub. No,: farmer Easy; her using me ill is no
I have come: a hundred-,miles to make a fool of: reason why I should do any thingto make me angry
myself, and to be laughed. at by the whole vil- with myself; 1 swore to love her for ever, and I'Il
lage.                                        keep my word, though I see' she has broke hers.




oE~  It:.]                       UtH E:Q U A KE R.:235
Easy. -Do what you please;:I must be gone.     Last May I sought to find a snail,
hrub. Nay, but tell me one thing-did Gillian    That might my lover's name reveal;
Iterself consent to this? - -;:      -         Which: finding, home I quickly sped.,:Easy. -You'll' know'all ingood time.   -[Exit.  iAnd on the earth the embers spread:.
When, if my letters I can tell,
Women are Wills-o'-the —wisp,'tis plain,' -  When if my letters I can tell
I saw it mark a curious L.'The' close'r they seem still the more they retire;  saw t may k a  curious Lu.;
They tease you,. and jade you,
And'round about lead you,:........ For Las for Lubin, and for love.: Without.hopes of shelter,                          Enter STEADY.: -...... Ding-dong, helter-skelter,..Thtrough water and fire:      Steady. Verily, thou rejoicest me, to find thee
singing, and in such spirits.
And when you believe every danger and pain    Gil. I was singing to be sure; but 1 cannot say
From your heart you may banish,        much about being in spirits.
And you're near the possession of what you de-   Steady. No! Why do not thy approaching
-  That instant they vanish,     [sire, nuptials lift up, and, as it were, exhilarate thee.
And the devil a bit can you catch them again.    Flor. Lord, Sir! there's no persuading..her;
nothing will get this Lubin out of her head.
By some.they're not badly compar'd to the sea,  Steady, And whyyoung maiden, wilt thou
Which is calm  and tempestuous within the not listen unto me   Have I not, for thy plea~~~~same hour;  ~sure, given in -to all the vanities, in which youth
Some say they are sirens,' but take it from me,   deligh  I tell tuth
They're a sweet race of angels, o'er man that  on be saturnine my manners arelnot austere
plexion be saturnine, my manners arenot austere;
have power,. [-ave~ ps. erwhy, therefore, likest thou not me?
His person, his heart, nay his reason to seize,  il. I should like you very well if you were
Gil. I should like you very well if you were
And lead the poor creature wherever they please. my father, but I don't like you at all for a hus[Exit. band.
SCENE II.-A Room in STEADY'S House, with   Xteady. And wherefore, I pray.thee 
glass doors in the back.             Gil. Oh, there are reasons enough.:
Steady. Which be they?
Enter FLORETTA and GILLIAN.W.:       Gil. -Why, in the first place, I should want you
to. change your clothes, and to have you.as spruce
-Flor. Pooh, pooh, you must forget Lubin.   as I am.                                 ~
Gil. How can you talk so, Floretta?. I won't'- Steady. Rather do thou- change those thou
though, and none of them shall make me: they wearest unto the likeness of mine.. The dove
all frightened me, by saying it was- a bad thing regardeth not the gay plumage of the gaudy
not to obey my parents, and- so  I consented to mackaw; and the painted rainbow delighteth our
marry - this quaker-man; but there's a wide'dif- sight,. but it. vanishes away, yea, even as a vapour.
ference between marrying him  and forgetting What more? 
Lubin;'..      Gil. Why,.in the next- place, I should want
-Flor. "And so you would be silly enough to you to- change your age, and have you as young
prefer being the homely wife of a clown, to rolling as I am.
about in your own coach,- having your own ser-    Steady. She speaketh her mind, and I esteem
vants to wait on' you, and in short. leading the life her. [Aside.]  Therefobre, why then, since it is
of a fine lady!.. necessary unto my peace, that thou shouldst beGil. Oh, Lord! I am sick with the thoughts of come bone of my bone, and flesh of my flesh, and
being a fine lady! But what's the reason, Flo- thou canst not fashion thy disposition unto. the
retta, that.my friends want to make me:'so un- likeness of mine, I will make it my study to double
happy?  I am sure I'd do any thing rather than  thy pleasure, until that which is now gratitude,
vex them.                                     shall at last become love.
Flor. Why, you know that Mr. Steady's will   Gil. Ah! you'll never see that day, so you had
Ls a law to: us all; and as he had desired your better. take no trouble about it.
friends to'consent to this marriage, how could   Steady. Thou art mistaken; and when thou
they refuse'"'.                         beholdest the gambols' to-morrow on the greenGil. Well; but you know he is a very good-. Gil.  I shall long most monstrously to make one
natured man; and 1 dare say if I was to tell him  amongst them.
how disagreeable he is, and that I can't bear the    Steady. And so thou shalt. Goodness forbid
sight of him, he'd let me marry-Lubin.       that I should withhold from thee those pleasures
Flor. Suppose you try.                     that are innocent.
Gil.: So I will.
WGil. So I will.  hile the lads of the village shall merrily, ah!
Flor. But how are you sure this Lubin you    Sound the tabors I'll hand thee along
are so fond of, is as.fond of you?.
are so fond of, is as.fond of you     And say unto thee, that verily, ah I
Gil.  I've tried a thousand ways.           -Thou and I will be. first in the throng.
A kernal from an apple core,                      While the lads, &c.
tOne day on either cheek:I wore;.:Just then, when the swain who last year won the
Lubin was plac'd on my right cheek,               dower,
That- on my left did. Hodge bespeak:       With his mates shall the sports have begun,
Hiodge in an instant.dropp'd to ground,  When. the gay voice of gladness resounds'from
Sure token that his love's unsound;               each bower,
But Lubin nothing could remove, -          And thou long'st in thy heart to make one.:
Sure token his is constant love.                  While the lads, &c.




236                             THE QUAKER.                                     [ACTL
Those joys which are harmless, what mortal can  cold while his coat is making. Shall it be to.
blame'                             morrow''Tis my maxim that youth should be free;     Flor. Must I promise?
And to prove that my words and my deeds are   Sol. Yea, and perform too;'tis not plums only
the same,                           that maketh the pudding.
Believe me, thou'lt presently see.           Flor. Well, well, we'll talk about it anotnhe
While the lads, &c.        [Exit. time.
Sol., No time like the time present.
Gil. What an unfortunate girl am I, Floretta!  Nay no kebuhe tmpresent.
For. What makes you think so?               SFlor. Nay now, but go, Solomon.
Flor. What makes you think so?.
Gil. Why, what would make you think so too,-*  Sol. An egg to-day is better than a chicken tomorrow; many things happen between the cup
if you was in my place?                      and the lip.
Flor. Well then, I own I do think so; and if.  Pray now, go.
you promise not to betray me, I'll stand your. Yea, will. A bird inthe hand is better
Sol. Yea, I will. A bird in the hand is better
frie. W in this affair.!                than two in the bush.                 [Exit.
nGil. Will you,? Oh, a! And what must be    Gil. What a fright of a creature it is! How
done, Floretta'?.   good you are, Floretta.
Flor. Why-but see yonder's a lover of mine: good you are, Floretta.
I'Flor. Why-butmake hi of usee yonder's a lover of mine: Flor. I could not bear to see you used in such
I'll make him of use to us                  a manner; and when I reflected oit it went to
Gil. Lord! what's Solomon your lover. I hate a manner; and when I r eflected on it it went to
him with his proverbs and his formality. What
the deuce do you intend to do with him?     I said to myself, now, Floretta, says I,
Flor. What women generally do with their   Supposing the case was your own:
lovers, my dear, make a fool of him.-Mr. Solo- Would you not be the first every method to try,
mon.                                           To get rid of this canting old drone.
Enter SOLOMON.                 You well know you would, and you're worse
than a Turk,
Sol. I listened, when lo! thou calledst me;   If one minute you hesitate whether
and as the voice of the shepherd is delightful unto In iustice you should not your wits set to work,
the sheep in his fold, so even is thy voice delight-  To bring Lubin and Gillian together.
ful unto me.
Flor. There's a lover for you! Why, the spirit To be certain, old Formal will frown and look blue,
moves you, Mr. Solomon, to say abundance of   Call you baggage, deceitful, bold face,    [to,
fine things.                                With all manner of names he can lay his tongue
Sol. According unto the proverb, love maketh    And perhaps turn you out of your place.
a wit of the fool.                          What of that? let him frown, let him spit all his
F/or. Yes, and a fool of the wit. But do you       spite,
love me?                                     Your heart still as light as a feather,
Sol. When thou seest one of our speakers With truth shall assure you'tis but doing right,
dancing a jig at a country wake; when thou be-   To bring Gillian and Lubin together. [Exit.
holdest the brethren take off their beavers, and bow    Gil. I wonder what they plague us poor girls
their bodies, or hearest them swear, then believe I so for? Fathers and mothers, in this case, are
love thee not.                              comical folks; they are for ever telling one what
Flor. A very pompous speech, upon my word. they'll do to please one; and yet, when they take
Sol. An ill phrase may come from a good heart: it into their heads, they make nothing of desiring
but all men cannot do all things; one getteth an us to be miserable as long as one lives. I wish I
estate by what another getteth a halter; a foolish could be dutiful and happy too. May be, Floretta
man-                                        will bring matters about for me to marry Lubin
Flor. Talks just as you do now. But will you with their consent: if she does, Lord, how I shall
do a little favour 1 have to beg of you?   love her!
Sol. Slaves obey the will of them who command
them.                                         The captive linnet, newly taken,
Flor. There is a young man who has been used   Vainly strives and vents its rage;
ill-                                          With struggling pants, by hopes forsaken,
Sol.'Tis very like; kind words are easier met  And flutters in its golden cage:
with than good actions; charity seldom goeth out   But, once releasd to freedom soaring
of the house, while ill nature is always rambling   Quickly on some neighbouring tree,
abroad.                                       It sings, as if' its thanks'twere pouring,
Flor. His name is Lubin; and I want you to     To bless the hand th    t it free.   [Exit
inquire him out, and appoint him to meet me tomorrow morning, very early, in the row of elms SCENE IlL. A Wall at the back of STEADY'S
at the bottom of the garden.                                  Garden.
Sol. But shall I not in this offend my master?           Enter LUBIN.
Gil. Never mind him; suppose if he should
find us out, and scold us a little-           Lub.'Tis all true,'tis all true; there's not a
Sol. True-high words break no bones. But, soul in the whole village that has not had somewilt thou give me a smile if I do this for thee?    thing to say to me about it. Some pity me, others
Gil. Ay, that she shall, Mr. Solomon, and I19 a laugh at me, and all blame me for making myself
give you another.                           uneasy. I know, if I did as I ought to do, I
Sol. But, wilt thou appoint the spousal day'   should get me back, and think no more concerning
Flor. You are so hasty, Mr. Solomon-      of them: but, instead of that, here am I come
Sol. And with reason; a man may catch creeping to the garden-gate, to see if I can get a




CENE I.]                        THE  QUAKER.                                      237
sight ofher. Who comes yonder. Oh,'tis her   Steady. Be gone.
father and the old quaker. I'll listen, and'hear      But, hark theewhat they are talking about.                   Lub.   Oh, Gillian! how wicked thou art!
Enter STEADY and EASY.                     Thou hast fool'd me, betray'd me,
and broke my poor heart.  [reigr,
Steady. Friend Easy, hie thee home to thy           But henceforth with safety in infamy
wife, tell her to hold herself ready for to-morrow;   For I never, no, never, will see yov
and say unto her, that when the youth who gains         again.                    [Exit
the customary dower, shall receive from me the    Gil.    He's gone! Now, Lord, Lord! I'm
hand of his bride, I will from thee receive the         so mad I could cry!
hand of thy daughter.                         Flor.  Here, Solomon!
Lub. Why, I must be turned fool to hear all   Steady. Go where I told thee.
this, and not say a word.                      Sol.    I fly.                  [the way.
Steady. Get thee gone, friend.  [Exit EASY.   Steady. Well, do then, and tarry no where by
Enter SOLOMON.           rFlor.  Quickly run after Lubin.
-Enter aOO1~1~ON.    Gil.   Do, Solomon.
Where art thou going?                         Sol.    Yea.
Sol. The truth is not to be spoken at all times.   Steady. What, Gillian, art there?
Into the village, about a little business for Mistress    Gil.   Yes, I am!
Floretta.                                     Steady. Why dost sigh 1       [eth so nigh.
Steady. Verily, I do suspect thee to be in a plot   When the hour of thy happiness waxagainst me. I will not have thee therefore to do    Gil.    Why, you know well enough.
this business: stay here by me.                Steady. Come, come, do not sorrow.
Gil.   Go along! get away!
FLORETTA and GILLIAN look over the Garden    Steady. By yea and by nay,
Wall.                              Thy mind shall be easy, believe me,
1For. I wonder whether Solomon is gone?              to-morrow.             [Exeunt.
Gil. Oh, dear Floretta, as sure as you're alive,           ACT II
yonder's Lubin!
Flor. So there is. And see on the other side         SCENYE I.-A  Garden.
the old fellow talking to Solomon.
Enter LUBIN.
FINALE.                     Lub. What a plague have they brought me
Steady. Regard the instructions, I say,   here for?1  am in a rare humour-they'd betWhich I am now giving thee.       ter not provoke me-they would not have set
Sol.    Yea.                              eyes on me again, if it had not been that I want
Steady. Speed by times to friend Easy, and to see how she can look me in the face after all
bid him take care,              this.
The minstrels, the feasting, and sports
to prepare.                                   Enter FLORETTA.
He must keep away Lubin too.        Flor. There he is.
Lub.   Can I bear this?         [sently?   Lub. She shall find that I am not to be perGil.   Won't you call out to Solomon pre- suaded into any thing.
Flor.  Yes.                                 Flor. We shall try.
Steady. And do thou attend with thy dobbins   Lub. And if her father and all of them were
of beer,                        at this minute begging and praying me to marry
And see that our neighbours and her, they should seefriends have good cheer;          Flor. That you would consent to it with all
Make the whole village welcome, and- your heart.
1For.  Solomon!                             Lub. I'll just abuse her heartily; tell the quaSteady. Stay.                             ker what an old fool he is; call her father and
Flor.  You blockhead, come here.          mother all to pieces for persuading her to marry
Steady. Dost thou notice me?             him: then get me down to my farm, and be as
iSol.   Yea.                              careful to keep myself out of love, as I would to
[Here as often as SOLOMON tries to speak to keep my wheat free' from tares, a fox from'my
FLORETTA and GILLIAN, he is prevented poultry, or the murrain from my cattle.
by STEADY.                             Ftor. If I should make you alter your tone now!
Steady. Stand still then.                   Lub. I remember the time when'twas who
Flor.  Friend Solomon!                   should love most: but what a fool am I to think of
Lub.   Is it not she?                    that now-No, no.; she shall find I can forget her
Flor.  Mind the oaf.                      as easily as she can forget me.
Gil.   Ha, ha, ha!                          Flor. That I firmly believe.
Lub.   They're laughing at me.
Steady. See that garlands are ready.      [ Taps hisshoulder.] How! Lubin sad! this isnot
Gil. 4- Flor. Ha, ha, ha!                         What do ye sigh for  [common;
Lub.  Again.                                 Lub. A woman.
Oh, Gillian! thou falsest of women,   Flor. How fair is she who on your orow
since when                              Prints care?
Have I merited this!                Lhub. Just such a toy as thou.
Steady. So that when on the lawn-            Flor. What has she done?
Lub.   But I'll speak to her.                Lub. For ever lost my love.       [moire 
Gil.   Look, look, he sees -us I            Flor. That's sad, indeed! And can no oravers




238                             T H E QUA K ER.                                 [AcT 
Lub.   None:'tis too late, that. folly is o'er;    Sol. It must be done by degrees  Word by
My love's turn'd to hate, and I'll see word great books are written.
her no more.                       Flor. Again! 
The time has been when all our boast   Sol. I pray thee to pardon me; I shall soon con
Was who should love the other most; quer them: but Rome was not built in a day.
How did lIcdunt without- my host..- Flor. Oh! this making game of one.
I thought her mine for ever.      ISo. I rotest I meant no ill. I shall forget them,
But now 1 know her all deceit;     I say.'"1 is a longlane that hath no turning.
Will tell her so whene'er we meet:   G/il Poor Solomon l He can't help it.
And- was:she sighing at! my feet —  -   r.; Have you any desire to marry-me -1
Sol. Ask the vintner if the wine be good.
Flor.   You vwou'd fiorglve her:            Flor Because I will-have-my wayin this; and 1
Lub.- -- Never................ -        ]think it very hard you won't strive to oblige me.
IFlor. _ ~rTrhen 1 -may e'en go back, I find:  Sol. I protest, I strive all I can; but custom is
To- serve you, Sir, I was inciin'd:-   second nature; and what is bred in the boneBut to your own advantage blind, V- erily, I had like to have- displeased thee again.'Twould be a vain endeavour.-      Mor. Oh! what you found yourself out, did
Tis certain she does _all she can, -    you? Then -there's some hopes of amendment.
And we had form'd a charming plan    Sol.- It shall be amended.  A thing resolved; To take her, from the quaker-man.    upon is half done; and'tis an old saying —but'Lab.   Nay, pr'ythee, tell:it.            what have 1 to do with-old sayings -.
"lor.. Never..  Never.  -  For. Very true.'Enter GILLIAN.                  Sol. But I must attend on the green.
F/or. Well, go; and by the time I see you next,
Here she is; now let her speak for herself. -.    take ca're that you get rid of all your -musty old
-- Gil...Oh,- Lubin! why would you not hear me sayings. I wonder howso sensible a man as you
speak-:to you yesterday?. I did not sleep a wink could give in to such nonsense...
all night for thinking on't.                   Sol. Evil communications.  corrupt good manLub. Why, had I not reason, Gillian, to be ners; and a dog-Pies on the dog!  Well, thou
angry, when every one I met told me what a fool shalt be obeyed, believe me-Pies on the dog!
you had made of me?                                                                [Exit.
Gil. Why, what -could I do?. Floretta here.   Gil. For goodness' sake, what excuse do you
knows that I have done nothing but abuse old intend to make to him when he has left off his
Steady from morning till night about it.     proverbs?
Flor. Come, come, don't let us dispute about   Flor. Why desire him to leave off something
what's past, but make use of -the- present oppor- else; and at the rate of one in a month, he won't
tunity; we: have not a moment to lose. Get you  have parted- with- all his particularities -in seven
to my master, make up a plausible story how ill years.
you have been used by an old fellow, who has run; Gil. Well, how we do use men in love with us,
away with your sweetheart; -and tell him, that you when we take it into our heads!
come to complain to him, as you know'tis a cus-   Flor. And -yet they are fools to be used so by
tom for every body to do when they are used ill.  us. - But I am sure you will never use Lubin illGil. What a rare girl you are, Floretta.  But he will make you the happiest girl in the world.
are you sure he won't know him?.For. No; I heard your father say he never..         AIR.*   -   -
saw him in all his life..                         The face which frequently displays
Lub. That's lucky; leave me alone for a plausi-  An index of the mind,
ble story.                          [Exit.      Dame Nature has her various ways
Enter SOLOMON.         - -           To stamp on -human-kind.
VFior.'Here comes my forma' messenger. Well,.    Purs'd brows denote the purse-proud man,
Solomon, where's yourmaster?                      Intent on some new scheme;
Sol. In the great hall, waiting your approach.   i    Clos'd eyes the politician,
Gil. I am very much obliged to you, Mr.. Solo-   For ever in a dream.
mon.                                      -      But features -of ingenuous kind,.
Sol. Words cost us'nothing. If I have: done: - - Whichsemblance bear of truth,
thee service, thank me by deed~s..-.    -    Display, methinks, in face and mind,
Gil.:Oh, what you want me to coax Floretta to     he portrait ofthis youth.  -  [Eeunt
marry you?
Sol. I do.                                             SCENE II.-A Hall.
Flor. Solomon has itvery much in his'power         Enter STEADY 
to make me love him.                                   Enter STEADY and LBIN.
Sol. How, I pray'thee?-                    Lub. Your servant, Sir.
Flor. Why, I:have -said a hundred times, that.. Steady. Thine, friend.
I never would marry a man who had always a   Lub. I hope, Sir, you'll excuse my rudeness'?
proverb in his mouth.'.                 Steady. I don't perceive thee guilty of any.
Gil. So you have, Floretta; i -have heard    Lub. May be not; but I made bold to ask, if
you.                                         I might not trouble your worship about a little
Sol. And thou wouldst have me leave.offmine affair concerning my being sadly used.
-a word to the wise-thou shalt hear -them no    Steady. Speak freely.
more..                            Lub. Why, there's a covetous old hunas, an
Flo  Why that sounded soinething like one.  -     This airis -omitted in representation.




SCENE III.]. TTHE  QUAKER.                                     239
like your worship, that, because he -is rich, would know thou wilt consent.that this shall -be thy
fain take away a young woman that. I was tobe bridal-day.
married to, without her consent-or mine...-..:  Flor. Yes, Sir, if you'll consent to her- having
Steady. Has the-old -hunks, thou speakest. of, Lubin.
the consent of her friends-?..Gil. And 1 -can tell you he'sto.be there,.
- Lub. -They have no consent to give, an- please    Steady. Lubin,. Im sure, will not oppose what
you..........                          I decree.Steady. And why, I pray thee!?               Gil. I'm sure he won't part with me quietly.
Lub. Because, as I take it, if any body gives a    Steady; Thou shalt see that:he will, not dare to
thing, -'tis. not:theirs any longer: and they gave murmur- at my will and.-pleasure-. ~-But come, we
me their consent long ago.                   are expected. Verily, I find myself exalted e-en
Steady... Thou;speakest -t.hel truth. But what to transport,.in: that I am going this day. to make
wouldst.thou have me do,in this business?::    thee. a bride...   -
Lub.. Why please you, Sir, I have often heard   In verity, damsel, thou: surely will find,
it said of your worship, -that there were.three  That my manners are simple and plain;
things you'd never suffer- -in our village if you    That my words and; my actions; my lips ar
could help-it-The maidens to go without sweet-;my'mind,
hearts. —the industrious without -reward'-and the  By my own good-will nevertare twain. --
injured without -redress-and to be sure it made       I      love thee-umph      -   
me think, that if you were once acquainted-with       Would move thee-umph!
the rights of this affair, you wouldlnot suffer it to   Of love to be partaker..
go on:; I- For,."- says:I, "-set. in case. it was his  Relent ther-umph!' —
worship's own concern, how would he like to have:     Consent then-umph:!
the young woman taken away from him, that he''-: And take-thy upright-quaker. -
is goingto marry 2"..
iSgoingteady. There thou saidst it...      Though vain I am not, nor of fopp'rypossess'd,
Wouldst thou yieid to be wedded to me,
Lub. — Why yes,- I thought- that. was bringing    Thou shouldst find  gentle. amsel,  hearti
the case~home........:           -.. Thou shouldst find, gentle damsel, a heart ix
the case home. - - 
Steady. Well, attend -on the lawn; make -thy          my breast
claim known, and if the- parties concerned are    As joyful as joyful can be.
present, deliver to them what I now write thee for    I love thee, &c.             [Exit
that purpose.             [Goes to the Table.   Gil. Why, I don't see but that I am as bad fl
Lub. This is better and better still.-How  as ever, Floretta.
they'll all be laughed at.-He: little thinks he is   Flor. I don't know what to make of it myself
tsigning his consent to.d part witteh Gillian.ks hbut however, if the worst comes to the worst, you
signing his consent to: part with Gillian.
must downright give them the slip, and run away.
Steady. Do thou direct it;7- thou knowest to  G/1. I cod, and So IWill. Lubi/ has got enough
whom it is to be given.                        Gil. I'cod, and so t will! Lubin has got enough
whom it is to be given.                      fr s both.
Lub. Yes, I am sure the person will be upon for us both.
~~~~~the -~lawn.      -.   - -     -        Re-enter LUBIN. -
the lawn.:
Steady. And fear not to tell him thy mind.   Lub. 6illian, I had just watched the old quaker
Lub. I sha'n't be sparing of that, I warrant you. out, and slipped back to tell you that every thing
Steady. Urge thy ill usage.                goes well. I have got his consent, under his han~
Lub. Never fear me.                        to marry the young woman.
Steady. And tell him, that by endeavouring to    Gil. And does he know'tis me? 
revent thy happiness, he hath done thee an injury   Lub. Not a bit; but you know he never forfeits
he can never repair; for that riches are given us his word, so that we have him safe enough. But
to comfort and not to distress those beneath us.   don't let us be seen together. I am going to the
lawn-we shall have fine sport, I warrant you.
Lzb. With respect, Sir, to you be it spoken,                                     [Exit.
So well do I like your advice,        Gil. Again I feel my bosom bound,
He shall have it, and by the same token,      My heart sits lightly on its seat;
I don't much intend to be nice.           M.y cares are all in rapture drown'd,
There's something so comical in it,           In every pulse new pleasures beat.
I ne'er was so tickled by half;           Upon my troubled mind at last,
And was I to die the next minute,             Kind fate has pour'd a friendly balm;
I verily believe I should laugh.          So, after dreadful perils past,
At length succeeds a smiling calm.
Affairs happen better and better,
Your worship; but mind the old put,   SCENE 111.-A Lawn with a May-pole.
When first he looks over the letter,  Enter ST EADY, EASY, LUBIN, SOLOMON,GILI.IAN,
I say, what a figure he'll cut.  [Exit.   FLORETTA, CICELxY, Country Lads and Lasses.
Enter GILLIAN and FLORETTA.             Steady. Friends and neighbours, it hath been
my study, since I first came among you, to do
Flor. Yonder he goes-I wonder how he suc- whatever might procure me your love and esteem.
aeeded.                                      I have instituted a custom, the salutary effects of
Steady. Come, Gillian, I was anxious to see which I view with great gladness; and each is well
thee —the time draweth near, and the sports will entitled to the reward he has received. I will now
shortly begin upon the lawn.                 propose to you a question, to see which of you can
Gil. I long to be there as much as you do.  make the most ready reply. What of all things
Steady. T doubt it not.-And when thou seest in the world is the longest and the shortest, the
thyself the queen of such a set of happymortals, I swiftest and the slowest, the most precious. the




240                             THE Q UA KER.                                 [ACT IL
most neglected, and without which nothing can    Steady. How is this 
be done                                        f Lub. Why, you know, you advised me to tell
I Coun. The earth.                        the old gentleman a piece of my mind.
Steady. No.                                  Steady. Thou shalt see the revenge I will take
~2 Coun. Ah, I knew you would not guess it, upon thee for this. I will comply with the conljight, an please your worship.             tents of this paper to the utmost. Here, read this
Steady. Thou art as much mistaken as he, aloud.                    [To a COUNTRYMAN.
friend.                                        Coun. [Reads.] "If the youth, Lubin,"Lub.'Tis my belief,'tis time. Nothing can be   Steady. Thou seest I knew thee then.
longer, because it will last for ever-nothing can   Lub. I am afraid I have been too cunning for
be shorter, because'tis gone in a moment-noth- myself
ing can go slower than it does, when one's away    Steady. You see. neighbours, how 1 am treatfrom her one loves, and nothing swifter when ed; and I request of you to be witness how much
one's with her.'Tis an old saying-        it behoveth us to resent such injuries. Go on.
Sol. Friend, I hate old sayings.            Coun. [Reads.] "If the youth, Lubin, will
Lub.'Tis an old saying, that'tis as precious as faithfully love and cherish the maiden, called
gold; and yet we are always throwing it away. Gillian, and make her a good help-mate, I do
And, your worship, as a proof that nothing can freely give my consent to her becoming his wife,
be done without it, if the old gentleman.we were and request her friends to do the same."
a talking about to-day, had not had the oppor-   Lub. How is this?
tunity of my absence, he could not have run away   Steady. This is my revenge. By thy ingenuity
with a certain young damsel.                thou hast won the dower; and by thy truth and
Steady. Thou hast solved my question aright, integrity, my friendship.
and art indeed an ingenious youth. If thou goest   Lub. Was ever the like? 
on as thou hast begun, I foresee that thou wilt win    Gil. I never could abide you before, but now I
the dower. Give me now your several claims, shall love you as long as I live.
sealed up as usual, and go on with the sports   Steady. Verily, my heart warmeth unto you
while I peruse them.              [A dance. both; your innocence and love are equally reSteady. Hast thounothing to give, young man   spectable. And would the voluptuous man taste
[ To LUBIN. a more exquisite sensation than the gratifying his
Lub. Why, yes, please your worship, I have.  passions, let him prevail upon himself to do a
Steady. This is addressed unto me! Let me benevolent action.
view the contents-How! my own hand! Thou
expectest, I find, to receive this damsel for thy  Let nimble dancers beat the ground;
wife; and thy plot, which thou didst so artfully  Let tabor, flagelet, and fife,
carry on, was contrived to make my neighbours   Be heard from every bower;
laugh at me.                                       Let the can go round.
Lub. No, with respect to your worship,'twas     What's the health?-Long life
to keep them from laughing at you.                 To the donor of the dower.   [Exeunt.




RO SIN A:
AN OPERA,
IN TWO ACTS.
BY MRS. BROOKE.
REMARKS.
Tins pleasing and well-arranged petite piece has been a constant favourite since its original performance a4
Covent Garden in 1783.-The dialogue is natural and easy, and the morality unexceptionable; the airs, compiled
by Shield, are happily adapted; and a more agreeable or effective afterpiece can scarcely be named in the varied
productions of our modern writers.
Mrs. Brooke, the amiable authoress, has thus explained her intentions, in her preface to the first edition:"The fable of this piece taken from the Book of Ruth, (a fable equally simple, moral, and interesting,) has al.
ready furnished a subject for the beautiful episode of Palemon and Lavinia, in Thomson's Seasons, and a pleasing
opera of Mons. Favart: of both I have availed myself as far as the difference of my plan would allow; but as we
are not, however extraordinary it may appear, so easily satisfied with mere sentiments as our more sprightly
neighbours, the French, I found it necessary to diversify the story, by adding the comic characters of William and
Phebe, which Ihoped might at once relieve and heighten the sentimental cast of the other personages of the drama"
DRAMATIS PE RSONAE.
As acted at COVENT GARDEN, 1783.       COVENT GARDEN, 1814
MR. BELVILLE..............Mr. Bannister.........          Mr. Incledon.
CAPTAIN BELVILLE,............ Mr. Cubit.....M....Mr. Slader.
WILLIAM,.............Mrs. Kennedy...................Mr. Durusset.
RUSTIC.............Mr. Davis....................Mr. Treby.
1ST IRISHMAN,..M.......,  r. Mahon...Mr. Hamerton.
2D IRISHMAN,.          Mr. Egan.                        Mr. Williams.
ROSINA,.       Mrs. Bannister.....iss Matthews.
DORCAS,........ Mrs. Pitt....................Mrs. Emery.
PHEBE.........,         Mrs. Martyr...........Miss Stephens.
Reapers, Gleaners, Servants, &c.
SCENE.-A Village in the North.
The scene opens and discovers a rural prospect:    DORCAS, seated on a bench, is spinning; Ro
on the ft side a little hill ith trees at the top;    SINA and PHEBE, just within the door, art
a spring of water rushes from  the side, and    measuring corn; WILLIAM comesfrom the top
falls into a natural basin below: on the right    of the stage; they sing the following trio.
side a cottage, at the door of which is a bench
of stone. At a distance a chain of mountains.       When the rosv morn, appearing,
The manor-house in view.  A field of corn             Paints with gold the verdant lawn,
fills up the scene.  In the first act the sky clears  Bees, on banks of thyme disporting,
by degrees, the morning vapour disperses, the          Sip the sweets, and hail the dawn.
sun rises, and at the end of the act is above
the horizon: at the beginning of the second he       Warbling birds the day proclaiming,
is past the height, and declines till the end of       Carol sweet the lively strain;
the day. This progressive motion should be           They forsake their leafy dwelling,
made imperceptibly, but its effect should be           To secure the golden grain.
visible through the two acts.
ACT I.                              See, content, the humble gleaner,.SCENE 1  Take the scatter'd ears that Call'
Nature, all her children viewing,
After the trio, the sun is seen to rise: the door of     Kindly bounteous, cares for all.
the cottage is open, a lamp burning just within;                           [WILLI AM retmes.?
VolI....2H          21                                                         241




242                                  R OSIN A.:eC
Ros. See! my dear Dorcas, what we gleaned      The morn returns in saffron dress'd,
yesterday in Mr. Belville's field!               But not to sad Rosina rest.
[Coming forward, and showing the corn         The blushing morn awakes the strain,
at the door.                                  Awakes the tuneful choir;
Dor. Lord love thee! but take care of thvself.:  L  But sad Rosina ne'er again
thou art but tender.                                  Shall strike the sprightly lyre.
Ros. Indeed it does not hurt me. Shall I.put
~~O~~ut the lamp?~ Rust.: [ Without.] To work, my hearts of oak,
out the lamp.
Dor. Do, dear; the poor must be sparing.   to work; here the sun is half an hour high, and
[RosINA going to put out the lamp, DoR- nota stroke struck yet.
CAS looks after her, and sighs; she re-  Enter RuSTIC, singing, followed by Reapers.
turns hastily.
Ros. Why do you sigh, Dorcas.:  Rust.. See,:ye swains, yon streaks of red,
Dor. I canno' bear it: it's nothing to Phebe       Call you from your slothful bed;
and me, but thou wast not born to labour.             Late you till'd the fruitful soil;
[Rising, and pushing away the wheel:  See! where harvest crowns your toil.
Ros. Why should I repine.  Heaven, which    Cho. Late you till'd the fruitful soil;
deprived me of my parents, and my fortune, left:   See! where harvest crowns your toil.
me health, content, and innocence. Nor is it
certain that triches- lead -to- happiness.- Do you.:Rust. As we.reap the golden corn,..
think-the nightingale sings the sweeter for being.   Laughing Plenty fills her horn 
in a gilded cage?.                   -             What would gilded pomp avail.
Dor. Sweeter, I'll maintain it, than the poor      Should the peasant's labour fail.
little linnet-that thol, pick'dst up half-starved under   Cho. What would gilded pomp avail.
the hedge. yesterday, after its mother had -been      Should the peasant!s labour-fail?
shoti-and brought'st to life in thy bosom. Let me    
Rust: Ripen'd fields your cares repay,
speak: to his honour, he's main kind to the poor.               our
Ros. Not for the world, Dorcas; I want nothing;         of labour, s aste away;
youhave been- aother to me.    -Bending, see the waving grain
Dor. Would I -could!- would I could! f ha'        Crown the year, and cheer the swain
worked hard and arn'd money in my time: but   Cho. Bending, see the waving grain
now I am old and feeble. and am pushed about by      Crown the year, and cheer the swain.
every body.-More's the pity, I say: it was not   Rust. Hist;! there's his honour. Where are
so in my young time; but the world grows wick- all thelazy Irishmen I hired yesterday at market1
eder every day.
Ros. Your age, my good Dorcas, requires rest; Enter BELVILLE,followed by two IRISHMEN and
go into the cottage, whilst Phebe and I join the               Servants.
gleaners, who are assembling'from every part of
he village.                                     1 Irish. Is it us he's talking of,'- Paddy? Then
Dor. Many a time have I carried thy dear mo- the devil may thank him for his good commenda.
ther, an infant,- in these arms; little did I think a tions.
child of hers -would live to share my poor pittance.   Bel. You are too severe, Rustic;. the poor feb
-hBut I wo' not grieve thee.                 lows came three miles this morning; therefore I
[DoRcAs enters the Cottage, looking back'af  made them stop, at thle manor-house to take a little
fectionately atRosIN-A.s'    -'      refreshment....
Phe. What makes you so melancholy,' Rosina 1   1 Irish.. Bless your. sweet. face, -my jewel, and
Mayhap it's because you have not a sweetheart. all those who take your part.'Bad luck to myself,
But you are so proud, you won't let our young if I would not, with all the veins of my heart, split
men come a near you. You may live to repent the dew before your feet in a morning.
being so scornful.                                                         [To BELYIrLE.
Rust. If I do speak a little cross, it is for your
When William at eve meets me down at the stile, honour's good.
How sweet is-the nightingale's song;         [ The Reapers cut the corn, and make it into
Of the day I forget all the labour and toil,     sheaves. RosINAfollows, and gleans.
Whilst the moon plays yon branches among.    Rust. [Seeing RosINA.] What a dickens does
this girl do here. Keep back; wait. till the reapBy her beams, without blushing, I hear him com- this girl do he    Keep back; wait till the reap.
plain,                                 ers are off the field; do like the other gleaners.
And be~lieve every word-of his song;         Ros. [-Timidly.] If I have done wrong, Sir, 1
You know not how sweet'tis to love. the dear'will put what I have gleaned down again.
swain,.   -                                  [She lets fall the ears she had gleaned.
sBel.'How can you be so'unfeeling, Rustic!
Whilst the moon plays yon branches among.        el. How can you be so unfeeling, Rustic?
She is lovely, virtuous, and in want. Let fall
[During' the'last stanza, WrIlLIAM appears at some ears, that -she may glean the more.
the end of the'scene, and makes signs to   Rust. Your honour is too good by half.
PHEBE; who, when it is finished, steals softly    Bel. No more: gather up the corn she has let
to him, and they disappear.              fall. Do as I command you.
Ros. How small a part of my evils is poverty!   Rust. There, take the whole field, since his
And how little does Phebe know the heart she honour chooses it.
thinks insensible! the heart which nourishes-a             [Putting the corn into her apron.
hopeless passion. T blessed, like others, Belville's   Ros. I will not abuse his goodness.
gentle virtues, and knew not that'twas love. Un-                       [Retires, gleaning.
lappy, lost Rosina!                           2 Irish. Upon my soul n'ow, his honour s no




SCENE I.]                              RO StIN  A                                      243
churl of the wheat, whate'er he may be of the bar-  ears, and presents them to. her; she refuses
eY.                                               them, and runs out; he follows her.
Bel. [Looking qfter RosINA.] What bewitchIng softness! There is a blushing, bashfl gen-      rttleness, an almost.  infantine innoecnc e, i n that Will. Lead the dogs back, James; the. captain
lovely countenance, which: it is impossible to be- won't shoot to-day. [Seeing RusT ICand PH EBr
hold withoutemotion!- She turnsthis way: what behind.]  Indeed, so close  I don't halflike it.
bloom on that cheek!'Tis the blushing downof           Enter RusTIc and.P.EBE.
the peach....the pc-h.  Rust. That's a good girl! do as I' bid you, and
Her mouth, which a smile,             you sha'n't want encouragement.' 
Devoid of all guile,                    [He goes up to the Reapers, and WILLIAM
Half opens to view,                     comes forward.
Is the bud of the rose,                  Will. 0 no,. I. dare say she: won't. - So, Mrs.
In the morning that blows,            Phebe!
Impearl'd with the dew.    - -:.   Phe. And. so. Mr.. William, if you go to. that?
More fragrant her breath                 Will. A new sweetheart, I'll be e.Worn; anad a
Than the flower-scented heath         pretty comely.lad he.is: but he.'s'.rich,:and that's
At the dawning.of day;              enough to win a woman
The hawthorn in bloom,.                 Phe. I don't desarve this':of you, W.illiam i:but
The lily's perfume,                   I'm  rightly sarved.for being.such.; an. ea$sy fool.
Or the blossoms of May.             You think, mayhap, I'm at my last prayers; but
Enter. CAPTAIN -BELVILLE.n   a riding dress.   you may find yourself mistaken.
Will. - You do right to. cl.y out first; you think
Capt. B.  G~ood.morrow, brother; you are early belike that I did not see you. take.that posy from
abroad.'                                     Harry.
B- el?.:My dear Charles, I am' happy to see -you.   Phe. And you, belike, that I did not catch you
* True., tI find, to the first of September. --: tying up one, of corn-flowers and wild roses, for
Capt. B. I meant to have been here last night, the miller's maid; but I'll be fooled. no longer; I
but one of my wheels broke, and I was obliged to have done with you, Mr. William....
sleep at a village six miles distant, where I left my  Till. I sha'n't break. my heart Mrs. Phebe.
chaise, and took a boat down the river at day- The miller's maid loves the ground I walkon.
break. But your corn is not off the ground.
Bel. You know our harvest is late in the north;    Will. I've kiss'd and I've prattled to fifty fan
but you will find all the lands cleared on the other           maids
side.the mountain.'                                   And chang'd them as oft, d'ye see-;
Capt. B. And pray, brother, how are the par-          But of all the fair maidens that dance on
tridges this season?                                          the green,
Bel..There are twenty covies within sight of           The           the   mill for me.
my house, and the dogs are in fine order.:
- Capt. B. The gamekeeper is this moment lead-   Phe.  There.'s fifty young men have told me
ing them- round. I' ami fired'at the sight.                  fine tales,
And called me the'fairest she;
By dawn to the downs we repair,                    But of all the gay wrestlers:that-sport
With bosoms right jocund and'gay,. on the green,
And gain more than pheasant or hare-                 Young Harry's the lad for me.
Gain health by the sports of the day..
Gan ealth by the sports of the day.  Will. Her eyes are as black as the sloe in the:Mark! mark! to the right hand, prepare-: hedge,.
See Diana!-she points!-see, they rise-          Her face like the blossoms in May,
See, they float on the bosom of air:!:             Her teeth are as white as the new-shorn
Fire away! whilst' loud echo replies                    flock.
Fire. away!.     Her -breath like the. new-made hay.
Hark! the volley resounds to the skies!     Phe.:Hle's tall and he's straight as the poplar
Whilst echo in.thunder replies! I                        tree,
In thunder replies,...                         His cheeks are as fresh as-the rose;
And resounds to the.skies,                     He looks like a squire of high degree
Fire away! Fire. ireaway!                            When dress'd in his Sunday clothes.
Will. I've kiss'd and I've prattled, &c.
But where is my little rusti  charmer. O! there
[Aie.  rybote, Phe..-.-There,'s fifty, young, men, &c.
she is.: -I am transportged. 2Aslde. ]  Praybrother.  [Exeunt on different sides of the stage.
is not that the little girl, whose'dawning beauty
we admired. so. much last year-:               RosmNA:runs across the Stage; CAPTAIN BELI
Bel. It is, and more: lovely than.ever. I shall          VILLEfollozwing her.
dine in the field with my reapers to-day, brother:
will you share our rural repast, or have a dinner    Capt. B;. Stay and hear me, Rosina..Why
prepared at the manor-house?                  will you fatigue yourself thus? Only homely girls
Captl. B. By no means: pray let me be of your are born to work.-Your obstinacy is vain, you
party: your plan is an admirable one, especially shall hear me.
if your girls are handsome. I'll walk round the   Rbs.. Why do you stop me, Sir?  My time is
field, and meet you at dinner time.            precious. When the gleaning season is over, will
[Exeunt BELVILLE and Rustic.  CAPTAIN  you make up my loss?
BELVILLE goes. up to RosINA, gleans a few    Capt. B. Yes..




244                                 R ROSINA.                                 rACT r
Ros. Will it be any advantage to you to make   Capt. B. Prodigiously.
me lose my day's work?                        Rust. But why give me money, Sir.
Capt. B. Yes.                                Capt. B. Only to-tell Rosina there is a perRos. Would it give you pleasure to see me pass son who is very much interested in her happiness.
all my days in idleness?  Rust. How much you will please his honour
Capt. B. Yes.                             by this. He takes mightily to Rosina, and prefers
Ros. We differ greatly then, Sir. I only wish her to all the young women in the parish.
for so much leisure as makes me return to my    Capt. B. Prefers her! Ah! you sly rogue!
work with fresh spirit. We labour all the week,     [Laying his hand on RusTIc'S shoulder.'tis true; butthen how sweet is our rest on Sunday.   Rust. Your honour's a wag; but I'm sure I
Whilst with village maids I stray,     meant no harm.
Sweetly wears the joyous day;            Capt. B. Give her the money, and tell her she
Cheerful glows my artless breast,      shall never want a friend; but not a word to my
Mild content the constant guest.       brother.
Rust. All's safe, your honour. [Exit CAPTAIN
Capt. B. Mere prejudice, child; you will know  BELVILLE.] I don't vastly like this business. At
better, I pity you, and will make your fortune. the captain's age, this violent charity is a little
Ros. Let me call my mother, Sir; I am young, duberous. I am his honour's servant, and it's my
and can support myself by my labour; but she is duty to hide nothing from him. I'll go seek his
old and helpless, and your charity will be well be- honour; 0, here he comes.
stowed.-Please to transfer to her the bounty you
intended for me.                                          Enter BELVILLE.
Capt. B. Why-as to that-                    Bel. Well, Rustic, have you any intelligence
Ros. I understand you, Sir; your compassion to communicate 
does not extend to old women.                 Rust. A vast deal, Sir. Your brother begins
Capt. B. Really-     I believe not.       to make good use of his money; he has given me
Enter D)oRcAs.              these five guineas for myself, and this purse for
Rosina.
Ros. You are just come in time, mother., I   Bel. For Rosina!'Tis plain he loves her.
have met with a generous gentleman, whose cha- [Aside.]  Obey him exactly; but, as distress renrity, inclined him to succour youth.        ders the mind haughty, and Rosina's situation reDor.'Tis very kind.-And old age —        quires the utmost delicacy, contrive to execute
Ros. He'll tell you that hirxiself.       your commission in such a manner that she may
[Goes into the Cottage. not even suspect from whence the money comes.
Dor. I thought so. —Sure, sure,'tis no sin to be   Rust. I understand your honour.
old.                                          Bel. Have you gained any intelligence in reCapt. B. You must not judge of me by others, spect to Rosina?
honest Dorcas.-I am sorry for your misfortunes,   Rust. I endeavoured to get all I could from the
and wish to serve you.                      old woman's grand-daughter; but all she knew
Dor. And to what, your honour, may I owe was, that she was no kin to Dorcas, and that she
this kindness?.                   had had a good bringing-up; but here are the laCapt. B. You have a charming daughter-   bourers.
Dor. I thought as much. A vile, wicked man!
[Aside.      Enter DORCAS, RosINA, and PHEBE.
Capt. B. Beauty like hers might find a thou-   Bel. But I don't see Rosina. Dorcas, you must
sand resources in London; the moment she ap- come too, and Phebe.
pears there, she will turn every head.        Dor. We can't deny your honour.
Dor. And is your honour sure her own won't   Ros. I am asham'd; but you command, Sir.
turn at the same time?
Capt. B. She shall live in affluence, and take    Enter CAPTAIN BELVILLE,fo1lowed bythe
care of you too, Dorcas.                                      Reapers.
Dor. I guess your honour's meaning; but you   Bel.  By this fountain's flowery side,
are mistaken, Sir. If I must be a trouble to the    Dress'd in nature's blooming pride,
dear child, I had rather owe my bread to her la-    Where the poplar trembles high,
bour than to her shame.                             And the bees in clusters fly;
[ Goes into the Cottage, and shuts the door.   Whilst the herdsmran on the hill
Capt. B. These women astonish me; but I           Listens to the falling rill:
won't give it up so.                                 Pride and cruel scorn, away:
Let us share the festive day.
Enter RUSTIC, crossing the stage.
Ros. 4- Bel. Taste our pleasures ye who may,
A word with you, Rustic.                             This is Nature's holiday.
Rust. I am in a great hurry, your honour; I       Simple Nature ye who prize,
am going to hasten dinner.                           Life's fantastic forms despise.
Capt. B. I sha'n't keep you a minute. Take
Cho. Taste our pleasures ye who may,
these five guineas.
Rust. For whom, Sir!                               This is Nature's holiday.
Rust. For whom, Sirr 
Capt. B. For yourself. And this purse.      Capt. B. Blushing Bell, with downcast eyes,
Rust. For whom, Sir? A                            Sighs, and knows not why she sighs —
Capt. B. For Rosina; they say she is in dis-              near her-we shall knowtress, and wants assistance.                         How he eyes her-Is't not so?
Rust. What pleasure it gives me to see you so   Cho. Taste our pleasures ye who may,
* haritable! You are just like your brother.        This is Nature's holiday.




CENE I.1                             RO S I N A.                                  24b
Will. He is fond, and she is shy;            Dor. Good lack! What is here! a purbe, as I
He would kiss her;-fie!-oh, fie!   live!
Mind thy sickle, let her be;          Ros. How!
By and by she'll follow thee.        Dor. Come, and see;'tis a purse indeed.
Cho. Busy censors, hence away;              Ros. Heavens!'tis full of gold.
This is Nature's holiday.             Dor. We must put up a bill at the church-gate,
and restore it to the owner. The best way is to
Rust.  Dor. Now we'11 quaff the ncut-brown ale
usThen we'11 tell quaff the sportive tale-brown ale, carry the money to his honour, and get him to keep
it till the owner is found. You shall go with it,
All is jest, and all is glee,       love.
All is youthful jollity.              Ros. Pray excuse me, I always blush so.
Cho. Taste our pleasures ye who may,        Dor.'Tis nothing but childishness; but his
This is Nature's holiday.           honour will like your bashfulness better than too
Phe.: (Lads and lasses all advance,    much courage.                        [Exit.
Irish Girl.J Carol blithe, and form the dance;   Ros. I cannot support his presence-my em1 Irhis    *   1Trip it lightly while you may,   barrassment-my confusion-a stronger sensation
I iThis is Mature's holiday.   than that of gratitude agitates my heart.- Yet
Cho.        Trip it lightly while you may,   hope in my situation were madness.
This is Nature's holiday.       Sweet transports, gentle wishes, go!
In vain his charins have gain'd my heaft;
[All rise; the Dancers come down the stage     In vain his charms have gain'd my heat;
Since fortune, still to love a foe,
through the sheaves of corn, which are remov-     fortune, still to love a foe
ed; the Dance begins and finishcs the Act.   And cruel, duty bid us part.
Ah! why does duty claim the mind,
ACT II.                      And part those souls which love has join'd.
SCENE I.-The Same.                                    WILLIAM.
Pray, William, do you know of any body that has
Enter RUSTIC.                 lost a purse.
Rust. This purse is the plague of my life; I   Will. I knows nothing about it.
hate money when it is not my own. I'll e'en put  "Ros. Dorcas, however, has found one.
in the five guineas he gave me for myself: I don't   Will. So much the better for she.
want it, and they do. They certainly must find   Ros. You will oblige me very much if you will
it there. But I hear the cottage door open.  carry it to Mr. Belville, and beg him to keep it till
[Retires a little. the owner is found.
Will. Since you desire it, I'll go; it sha'n't be
Enter DORCAS and ROSINA from the Cottage. the lighter for my carrying.
DORCAs with a great basket on her arm,filled   Ros. That I am sure of, William.  [Exit.
with skeins of thread.                                    Enter PHEBE
Dot. I am just going, Rosina, to carry this
threa to the weaver'sng  Rsina to carry this   Phe. There's William; but I'll pretend not to
Ros. This basket is too heavy for you: pray let
me carry it.                                      ~Henry cull'd the floweret's bloom,
[Takes the basket from DORCAS, and sets it
dowfn on the bench.                            Had playful kiss'd, but prudence near
Dor. No, no.                  [Peevishly.        Whisper'd timely in her ear,
Ros. If you love me, only take half; this even-  Simple Marian, ah! beware;
ng, or to-morrow morning, I will carry the rest.   Touch them not, for love is there.
-t Takes part of the skeins out of the basket and    [Throws away her nosegay.  While she i
lays them on the bench, looking affectionately on  singing, WILLIAM turns, looks at her, whisDORCAS.1 There, be angry with me. if you please.    ties, and plays with his stick.
Dor. No, my sweet lamb, I am not angry; but   Will. That's Harry's posy; the slut likes me
beware of men.                              still.
Ros. Have you any doubts ofmy conduct,Dorcas.   Phe. That's a copy of his countenance, I'm
Dor. Indeed I havenot, love, and yetI am uneasy. sartin; he can no more help following me nor he
can be hang'd.
Enter CAPTAIN BELVILLE,  unperceived.         [Aside; WILLIAM crosses again, singing,
Go back to the reapers, whilst I carry this thread.    Of all the fair maidens that dance on the green,
Ros. I'll go this moment.                      The maid of the mill for me.
Dor. But as I walk but slow, and'tis a good   Phe. I'm ready to choke wi' madn'ess; but I'll
way, you may chance to be at home before me; so not speak first, an I die for't.
take the key.                                    [WILLIAM sings, throwing up his stick and
Ros. I will.                                    catching it.
Capt. B. [Aside, while DORCAS feels in her   Will. Her eyes are as black as the sloe in the
pockets for the key.] Rosina to be athomle before          hedge,
Dorcas! How lucky! I'll slip into the house,           Her face like the blossoms in May.
and wait her coming, if'tis till midnight.    Phe. I can't bear it no longer-you vile, un[He goes unperceived by them into the Cottage. grateful, parfidious-But it's no matter-I can't
Dor. Let nobody go into the house.         think what I could see in you-Harry loves me,
Ros. I'll take care; but first I'll double-lock the and is a thousand times more handsomer.
4oor.                                                       [Sings, sobbing at every word
[ While she is locking the door, DoRcas, going    Of all the gay wrestlers that sport on the green,
to take up the basket, sees the purse.       Young Harry's the lad for me.
21*




246  O S IN A.:[ACT II,
Will.; He's yonder a reaping,::shall I call him?         Enter BELVILLE.
[ Offers to go.   Bel.I tremble at tbe impression this lovely girl
Phe. My grandmother leads me the life of a has                           cheerfulnes has left
d;d'a y..has made on my heart. My cheerfulness has left
Wedog; and it sall, teongl ofe byOUt t   n   me, and I am grown insensible even to the deli*WillWelhen *ghe'll*b9bettb tep eredn ow  cious pleasure of making those happy who depend
Phe. I did not value her' scolding a' brass farthing, whe I t     t as hought as hw you were true to me.
Wi/l. Wasn't I true to you? Look in my face,    Ere bright Rosina met my eyes,
and ~say that'.' -.'.                                 How peaceful pass'd the joyous day 
In rural sports I gain'd the prize,
When bidden to the wake or fair,                 Each virgin listen'd to my lay.
The joy of each free-hearted swain,
Till hebe promid to e there        But now no more I touch the lyre,
TI hter'd, last of all the train.              No more the rustic sports can please;
if loite'd, ast f al thetrai.        I live the slave of fond desire,'' If chance some fairing caught her eye,          Lost to myself, to mirth, and ease.
The riband gay or silken glove,
The rihand gay, or silken glove, TThe tree that, in a happier hour,
With' eager haste Il ran to buy;
For what is gold compar'd to love2             Its boughs extended o'er the plain,
For wh'at'is gtiod'co-m'pr'dto love'.
-'When blasted by the lightning's power,
My posy on her'bosom plac'd,                     Nor charms the eye, nor shades the swain.: Could'  Harry's sweeter:scents exhale'
C dHe r auburn rcys nser seins exalc'd, Since the sun rose, I have been in continual exercise:; I feel exhausted, and will try to rest a quarAnd    waton ale.  ter of an hour on this bank.'
- With scorn;sh'e hears me now complain,           [Lies down on a bank by the fountain.'Nor can'my' rustic presents move:        [ Gleaners pass the Stage, with sheaves of Corn
Her heart prefers a richer: swain,             on their heads; last ROSINA, who comesforAnd gold, alas!- has banish'd love.         ward singing.
Coming back.] Let's part friendly, howsomever.   Ros. Light as thistle-down moving, which floats
ye, Phebe: I- shall always wish you well.                 on the air,
Phe. Bye, William.                                Sweet gratitude's debt to this cottageI bear;
r ries, owiping her eyes with her apron.   Of autumn's rich store I bring home my part,
Will. Mily heart begins to melt a little. [Aside.]  The weight on my head, but gay joy in my
I lov'd you very well once, Phebe; but you are            heart.
grown so cross,, and have such vagaries -      What do I see?  Mr. Belville asleep?  I'll steal
Phe. I'm sure Inever had no vagaries with you, softly- at this moment I may gaze on him withWilliam. But go; mayhap Kate may be angry.   out blushing.'[Lays down the corn, and walks
Will. And who cares for she 2 I never minded
*.....   ~.  softly up to him.] The sun points full on this
her anger, nor her coaxing neither, till you were spot;: let me fasten these branches together with
Ph.cross to-   ~ingme.  U~3herhands~l    Othefat this riband, and shade him fromits beams-yesPhe. [Holding up her hands.] O the fathers t
* cross to' 30u,'TY?,       that will do-But if he should. wake —[.Takes the
Wii l. cross to you, Wicivnot ~yoSllam? -s v:m s Riband from her bosom, and ties the branches toWill. Did not you tell me this verymorning,as gether.]  How my heart beats!- One look more
gether.]  Howmyheartbeats':!.....One look more
how you had done wi' me                        -Ah' I have waked him.
Phe. One word's as.good as a thousand. Do    [She iles, and endeavours to hide herself
you love me, William'ot                           against the door of the Cottage; turning her
Will. Do I love thee?  Do I love dancing on      head every instant.
the -green better than thrashing in the barn? Do    Bel. What noise was that?
I love a wake, or a harvest-home.                                      [Half raising himself.
Phe. Then I'll never speak to Harry again the    Ros. He is angry-How  unhappy I am
longest day I have to live.                    How  I tremble.                        [Aside.
Will. I'll turn my back o' the miller's maid the  el.  his riband I have seen  efore, ad on
Bel. This riband I have seen before, and on
first time I meet her.
~- wPhe. Will youindeed, and oindeed                 [He rises, andgoes toward the Cottage.
Will. Marry will I: and more nor that, I'll go
W, )ll. Marry wRos. I will hide myself in the house. [ROSINA,
speak tothe:parson this moment —I'm  happier ope g' the d       ees CPTAINBELILLE, and
-zooks, I'm happier nor a lord or a'squire of five starts back.]-eavens! a man in the house!
hundred a year.::;  ~            I  Capt. B. Now, love, assist me:! X-.
Phe... In gaudy courts, with achinghearts,  [Comes out, and seizes'ROSINA-; she breaks,Phe. Jn g a udy courts, iwith achimg hearts,
T..he great.at fortune r.ail:.       from him, and- runs afrighted- across the
hi;   hills ma1  i he ihnours  claim,      Stage; BELVILLE follows;' CAPTAIN BEL,-;li:But peace is in the vaile.''VILLE, who comes out to pursue her, sees his
Bu.t..... -brother, and steals off at'the other Scene;
Will. See high-born dames, in rooms of state,    BEL.VILLE leads ROSINA back. 
W.-...:-ith: midnight revels pale;        Bel. Why do you fly thus, Rosina?  What can
No youth admires their fading charms,   you fear?: You are out of breath.
For: beauty's in the vale.;  Ros. 0, Sir! —my strength fails —[Leans on
Both.:'Amid! the shades the virgins sighs -... BELVILLE, who supports her in his arms.] Where
-. Add'fragrance-toethe gale::     is he'?-A gentleman pursued me-.,- So they that will may take the hill,                                [Looking round.
-' Since love is in the' vale.           Bel. Don't be: alarmed,'twas my brother-'[Exeunt,' arm in arm. he could not mean to offend you.




SE  I'.]                             R O.S NRSI A.                                    24"'
Ros,..Your. brother! -: Whyr then does he not.lament his fate;.. Rosina's virtues shall not~go un.
imitate your virtues?  Why was he here?      rewarded.
Bel. Forget this: you are safe. But tell me,:. Dor. Yes I know'd it would be so.  Heaven
Rosina; for the question is to me of importance.; never forsakes the good man's children.
have I not seen you wear this -riband.         3el. I have another question to ask you, DorRos:Forgive me, Sir:; I did not: mean to dis- cas, and answer me sincerely; is her heart free?
turb you. I only meant to shade you from the too    Dor. To be sure, she never would let any of
great heat of the sun.                         our young men come a near her; and yetBetl To what motive do I owe this tender at-   Bel. Speak: I am on the rack.
tention.                                        Dor. I'm afeard-she mopes and she pines.Ros. Ah, Sir:! do not the whole village love you? But your honour would be angry-I'm afeard the
Bel. You tremble; why are you alarmed?      captain[Taking her hand.]  For you, my sweet maid,    Eel. Then my foreboding heart was right.
nay, be not afraid. [RosiNA withdraws it.                                     [Aside.
I feel an affection which yet wants a name.
Roe. When first-but in vain-I seek to explain,
What heart but must love you?  I blush,   Rust. Help, for Heaven's sake, Sir! Rosina's
fear, and shame-                       lost-she's carried awayBel. Why thus timid, Rosina? still safe by my    Bel. Rosina!
side,
Let me be your guardian, protector, and            Enter CAPTAIN BELVILLE.
guide,                                   Capt. B. [Confusedly.] Don't be alarmedRos. My timid heart pants-still safe by your let-me go —-,I' fly to save her.
side,  [guide.   Bel. With me, Sir — will not lose sight of you.
Be you my protector, my guardian, my Rustic, hasten instantly with:ourreapers. Dorcas,
Bel. Why thus timid, &c.                     you will be our guide.                  [Exit.
Ros. My timid heart pants, &c.                 Rust. Don't be frightened, Sir; the Irishmen
Bel. Unveil your mind to me, Rosina.  The have rescued her;:she is just here.       [ExiL.
graces of your form, the native dignity of your           Enter the two IRISHMEN.
mind, which breaks through the lovely simplicity
of your deportment,athousand circumstances con- jewel; we have done for them.
cur to convince me you were not born a villager. ewel; we have done for them.
To youSir, I can have no reserve  A    Dor. Have you saved her. I owe you. more
Ros. To' you, Sir, Ican:have-no reserve. A  than life.
ride, I hope an honest one, made me wish to         th      an, you owe me noigh in secret over my misfortunes.you oweme no
in se ret overly.]  Th ey are at an end,    thing at all. I'll tell your honour how it was.
Ros. Dorcas approaches, Sir. she can best Mre- My comrades and I were crossing the meadow,
late my melancholy story.                  re- going home, when. we saw them first; and hearing a.woman cry, I looked up,.and sawthem putEnter DORCAS.                  ting her into a skiff against her will. Says I,
Dor. His honour here? Good lack! How sor- "Paddy, is not that the clever. little crater that
ry I am I happened tobe from home. Troth, I'm  was glaning:in the field with us this morning?"
sadly tired.                                   -"'Tis so, sure enough," says'he.-" By, St. PaBel. Will you let me speak with you a moment trick," says I, "there s enough of us to rescute
alone, Dorcas 2                                her."  With that we ran for the bare life, waded
Dor. Rosina, take this basket.               up to the knees, laid about us bravely with oqr
[Exit ROSINA with the basket. shillelays, knocked them  out of the skiff, and
Bel. Rosina has referred me to you, Dorcas, for brought her back safe: and here she comes, my
an account -of her birth, which I have long sus- jewel.
pected to be above her present situation.
Dor. To be sure, your honour, since the dear Renter Rustic, leading ROSINA, who throws
I            I d gives me              herself into DoRcos' arms.
child gives me leave to- speak, she's -of as good a
family as any- in England..::I-Ier. mother; sweet   Dor.: I canno'. speak. —Art thou-safe?
lady, was. my bountiful:.old master's daughter,   Bel. Idread to find the criminal.'Squire:: Welford, of Lincolnshire.. His estate    Rust.. Your honour need not go far a field, 1
was seized for a mortgage of not half its value, believe; it must have been some friend of the capjust after young madam was married, and she tain's, for his French valet commanded the party.
ne'er got a penny of her portion.                Capt. B. I confess my crime; my passion for
Bel. And her father?                        Rosina hurried me out of myself
Dor. Was a brave gentleman too, a colonel.   Bel. You have dishonoured me, dishonoured
His honour went to the Eastern Indies, to better the glorious profession you have embraced.-But
his fortune, and madam would go with him. The  begone, I renounce you as my brother, and reship was lost, and they, with all the little means nounce my ill-placed friendship.
they had, went to the bottom. Young Madam         Capt. B. Your indignation is just; I have ofRosina was their only child; they left herat school; fended almost past forgiveness.  Will the offer of
but when this sad news came, the mistress did not my hand repair the injury?
care for keeping her, so the dear child has shared    Bel. If Rosina accepts it, I am satisfied.
my poor morsel.                                  Ros. [ To BELVILLE.] Will you, Sir, suffer?Bel. But her father's name?.                This hope is a second insult. Whoever offends
Dor. Martin; Colonel Martin.                 the object of his love is unworthy of obtaining her.
Bel. I am too happy; he was the friend of my    Bel. This noble refusal paints your character.
father's heart: a thousand times have I heard him  I know another, Rosina, who loves you with as




248                                 ROS1NA.                                    [ACT I
strong, though purer ardour: —but if allowed to       And loud the feeling bosom bless,
hope —                                                   Which something leaves for want
Ros. Do not, Sir, envy me the calm delight of                 to glean.
passing my independent days with Dorcas, in Ros. How bless'd am I, supremely bless'd
whom I have found a mother's tenderness.           Since Belville all his soul express'd,
Dor. Bless thee, my child; thy kindness melts    And fondly clasp'd me to his breast:
my heart.                                             I now may reap-how  chang'd the
Bel. Do you refuse me too then,'Rosina?                  scene!
[ROSINA raises her eyes tenderly on BELVILLE,      But ne'er can I forget the day,
lowers them again, and leans on DORCAS.          When, all to want and wo a prey,
Dor. You, Sir?  You 2                              When, all to want and wo a prey,
Soft pity taught his soul to say,
Ros. My confusion-My blushes-                                     his soul to say,
Ros. My confusion —My blushes-                       "Unfeeling Rustic, let her glean.'
Bel. Then I am happy! My life! my Rosina!               nfeeling Rustic, let her glean 
Phe. Do you speak to his honour, William.         rThe hearts you glad your own display,
Will. No; do you speak, Phebe.                     The heavens such goodness must repay;
Phe. I am ashamed-William and I, your ho-          And bless'd through many a summer's
nour-William  prayed me to let him keep me Rust.             day,
company-so he gained my good-will to have him, Dor.    Full crops you'll reap in this rich scene:
if so be my grandmother consents.            Will.
[Courtesying, and playing with her apron. Phe.   And O! when summer joys are o'er,
Will. If your honour would be so good to speak    And autumn yields its fruits no more,
to Dorcas.                                           New blessings be there yet in store,
Bel. Dorcas, you must not refuse me any thing        For winter's sober hours to glean.
to-day. I'll give William a farm.            Chorus. And  0! when summer's joys, &c.
Dor. Your honour is too kind-take her William, and make her a good husband.
Will. That I will, dame.
Will. & Phe. [To BELVILLE.]  Thank your                  representation.
honour.                                                    representation.
[BELVILLE joins their hands, they bow and  Capt Bel. From flower to flower gay roving.
courtesy.                                          The wanton butterfly
Will. What must I do with the purse, your              Does nature's charms descry.
honour? Dorcas would not take it.                    From flower to flower gay roving,
Bel. 1 believe my brother has the best right.          The wanton butterfly.
Capt. B.'Tis yours, William; dispose of it as      On wavy wings high mounting,
you please.                                              If chance some child pursues,
Will. Then I'll give it to our honest Irishmen,        Forsakes the balmy dews;
who fought so bravely for our Rosina.                 On wavy wings high mounting,
Bel. You have made good use of it, William;            If chance some child pursues.
nor shall my gratitude stop here.
Capt. B. Allow me to retire, brother. When
1 am worthy of your esteem, I will return, and            I mock the whining sibutterfly,
demand my rights in your affection.
Bel. You must not leave us, brother. Resume         Still wild, and ever changing,
the race of honour; be indeed a soldier, and be          A sportive butterfly.
more than my brother-be my friend.
FINALE.                   Bel. How bless'd, my fair, who on thy face
Bel. 4. Capt. B. To bless, and to be blessed be  Unchec'd by fear, may fondly gaze.
ours,                           Who, when he breathes the tender sigh,'Whate'er our rank, whate'er our powers;     Beholds no anger in thine eye?
On some her gifts kind fortune showers,      Ah, then, what joys await the swain,
Who reap, like us, in this rich scene.     Who ardent pleads, nor pleads in vain;
Capt. B. Yet those who taste her bounty less     Whose voice, with rapture all divine,
The sigh malevolent repress,          Secure may say, " This heart is mine-!"




VENICE PRESERVED
A TRAGEDY,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY THOMAS OTWAY.
REMARKS.
THnI interesting tragedy owes its plot and plan to the Abbe de St. Real's "Histoire de la.Conjuration de JMarquis
de Bedamar," or Account of the Spanish Conspiracy at Venice, of which the Marquis de Bedamar, the ambassador
from Spain, was a promoter. Nature and the passions are finely touched in this play; and it continues a favourite,
deprived, as it now is in representation, of that mixture of vile comedy which originally diversified the tragic action,
It has been remarked, that Belvidera is the only truly valuable character; and indeed the principal fault of this
drama seems a want of sufficient and probable motive.
DRAMATIS PERSONXE.
DRURY LANE, 1814.                   COVENT GARDEN, 1817.
DUKE OF VENICE,                 Mr. Carr................ Mr. Creswell.
PRIULI,................... Mr. Powell.                             Mr. Egerton.
BEDAMAR,            Mr. J. Wallack.                     Mr. Connor.
JAFFIER,                        Mr. Rae.                            Mr. C. Kemble.
PIERRE,..................... Elliston.                            Mr. Young.
RENAULT,                        Mr. R. Phillips.... Mr. Chapman.
ELLIOTT,                       Mr. Waldegrave...........           Mr. Hamerton.
SPINOSA,                       Mr. Elrington.                       Mr. Claremont.
THEODORE,....... Mr. J. West...                  Mr. King.
DURAND,.                       Mr. Wallack.                         Mr. Grant.
MEZZANA,                       Mr. Buxton.                          Mr. Norris.
OFFICERS.                     Messrs. Ray and                      Messrs. Jeffrey
- F     F        I        C        E       R        S......Cooke.  and Tooley.
BELVIDERA......   Miss Smith..                Miss O'Neil.
Officers, Guards, Senators, Executioner, &c.
ACT 1.                      Me back so far, but I may boldly speak
In right, though proud oppression will not hear
SCENE I.-A  Street in Venice.                  me? 
Enter PRIUL and JAFFIER.-               Pri. Have you not wrong'd me.
Jaf. Could my nature e'er
Pri. No more! I'll hear no more! Be gone Have brook'd injustice, or the doing wrongs,
and leave me.                            I need not now thus low have bent myself
Jaf. Not hear me! By my suffering, but you  To gain a hearing from a cruel father.
shall!                                  Wrong'd you.
My lord, my lord! I'm not that abject wretch     Pri. Yes, wrong'd me! In the nicest poln,
You think me.  Patience! where's the distance The honour of my house, you've done me wrong,
throws                                   You may remember (for I now will speak.
VOL. 1.. 2 I                                                                       249




250                        VENICE PRESERVED.                                     [ACTr I.
And urge its baseness) when you first came home But 1 might send her back to you with contumely,
From travel, with such hopes as made you look'd And court my fortune where she would be kinder.
on,                                      Pri. You dare not do't.
By all men's eyes, a youth of expectation,     Jaf. Indeed, my lord, I dare not.
Pleas'd with your growing virtue, I-receiv'd you;  My heart — that awes me; is too much my master
Courted, and sought to raise you to your merits.  Three years are past, since first our vows were
My house, my table, nay, my fortune too,            plighted,
My very self, was yours; you might have us'd me During which time, the world must bear me
To your best service; like an open friend          witness,
I treated, trusted you, and thought you mine:-.-  I've treated Belvidera like your daughter,
When, in requital of my best endeavours,     The daughter of a senator of Venice:
You treacherously practis'd to undo me;      Distinction, place, attendance, and observance,
Seduc'd the weakness of my age's darling,    Due to her birth, she always has commanded.
My only child, and stole her from my bosom.  Out of my little fortune I've done this;
Oh, Belvidera!                              Because (though hopeless e'er to win your nature)
Jaf.'Tis to me you owe her:               The world might see I lov'd her for herself;
Childless you had been else, and in the grave  Not as the heiress of the great Priuli.
Your name extinct: no more:Priuli heard of.    Pri. -No more.
You may remember, scarce five years are past,  Jaf. Yes, all, and then adieu for ever. [charity,
Since in your brigantine you sail'd to see   There's not a wretch, that lives on common
The Adriatic wedded by our duke;             But's happier than me: for I have known
And I was with you: your unskilful pilot     The luscious sweets of plenty; every night
Dash'd us upon a rock; when to your boat     Have slept with soft content about my head,
You made for safety: enter'd first yourself;  And never wak'd but to a joyful morning;
Th' affighted Belvidera following next,      Yet now must fall, like a full ear of corn,
As she stood trembling on the vessel's side,  Whose blossom'scap'd, yet's withered in the
Was, by a wave, wash'd off into the deep;.       -ripening.
When instantly I plung'd into the sea,         Pri. -Home, and be humble; study to retrench;
And, buffeting the billows to her rescue,    Discharge the lazy vermin of thy hall,
Reedeem'd her life with half the loss of mine.  Those pageants of thy folly:
Like a rich conquest, in one hand I bore her,   *Reduce the glitt'ring trappings of thy wife
And with the other dash'd the saucy waves,   To humble' weeds, fit for thy little state:
That throng'd and press'd to rob me of my prize.  Then, to some suburb cottage both retire;
I brought her, gave her to your despairing arms:  Drudge to feed loathsome life; get brats and
Indeed you thank'd me; but a nobler gratitude       starveRose in her soul: for from that hour she lov'd me, Home, home, I say.               [Exit.
Till for her life she paid me with herself.    Jaf. Yes,. if my heart would let mePri. You stole her from me; like a thief you  This proud, this swelling heart: home I would go,
stole her,                           But that my doors are baleful to my eyes,
At dead of night! that cursed hour you.chose  Fill'd and damn'd up with gaping creditors,
To rifle me of all my heart held dear.       Watchful as fowlers when their game will spring.
May all your joys in her prove false, like. mine;   I've now not fifty ducats in the world,
A sterile fortune, arid a barren bed,        Yet still I am in.love, and pleas'd with ruin.
Attend you both; continual discord make      Oh! Belvidera! Oh!  she is my wifeYour days and nights bitter and grievous; still   And we will bear- our wayward fate together,
May the hard hand of a vexatious need        But ne'er know comfort -more.
Oppress and grind you; till at last you find
The curse of disobedience all your portion.                 Enter PIERRE.
Jaf. Half of your curse you have bestowed in    Pier. My friend, good morrow;
vain:                                  How fares the honest partner of my heart?
Heaven has already crown'd our faithful loves    What, melancholy! not a word to spare me?
With a young boy, sweet as his mother's beauty:   Jaf. I'm  thinking, Pierre, how that damn'd
May he live to prove more gentle than his grand-' starving quality,
sire,                                  Call'd honesty, got footing in the world.
And happier than his father.                   Pier. Why, powerful villany first set it up,
Pri. Rather live                           For its own ease and safety. Honest men
To bait thee for his bread, and din your ears  Are the soft easy cushions on which knaves
With hungry cries: whilst his unhappy mother   Repose and fatten. Were all mankind villains,
Sits down and weeps in bitterness of want.   They'd starve each other; lawyers would want
Jqa: You talk as if'twould please you.          practice,
Pri.'Twould;, by heaven!                  Cut-throats rewards: each man would kill his
Jaf. Would I were in my grave!                    brother                          [der.
Pri. And she too with thee.                Himself; none would be paid or hang'd for murFor, living here,' you're but my curs'd remem- Honesty!'twas a cheat invented first
I once was happy.                  [brancers To bind the hands of bold deserving rogues,
Jaf.'You use me thus, because you know my  That fools and-cowards might sit safe in power,
soul                                   And lord it uncontrol'd above their betters.
Is fond of Belvidera. You perceive            - Jaf.:  Then honesty is but a notion?
My life feeds on her, therefore thus you-treat me.   Pier. Nothing else;
Oh! could my soul ever have known satiety;   Like wit, much talk'd of, not to be defin'd;
Were I that thief, the doer'of such wrongs  He that pretends to most,:too, has least share in't.
As you upbraid me with, what hinders me'Tis a ragged virtue: Honesty! no more on't.




SECNE I.]                   V EN         PIC'ER: P tIES ERE ~ED.'                      251
Jaf. Sure thou art honest!                   Rich hangings intermix'd and wrought with gold
Pier. So, indeed, men think me:              The very bed, which on thy wedding-night
But they're mistaken, Jaffier: I'm a rogue     Receiv'd thee to the arms of Belvidera,
As well as they;.i! - t'.The scene of all thy joys, was violated
A fine, a' bold-:fac'd'villain as thou seest me.:  By the coarse hands of filthy dungeonl villains,
Tis true, I pay my debts, when they're contracted; And thrown amongst the common lumber.
I steal from no man-; would not cut a throat'    Jaf. Now, thank HeavenTo gain admission to a great man's purse,:      Pier. Thank. Heaven! for what 1.
Or a whore's bed; I'd not betray my friend        Jaf. That I am not worth a ducat.
To get his place. or fortune; I scorn to flatter'  Pier. Curse thy dull stars, and the worse fate
A blown-up fool. above me, or crush the wretch        of Venice;
beneath'me;                              Where brothers, friends, and fathers, all are false;
Yet, Jaffie.r, for all this I'm a villain.     Where there's no truth, no trust; where innoJaf A villain!                                      cence
Pier. Yes. a most notorious villain;         Stoops under vile oppression, and vice lords it.
To see the sufferings of my fellow-creatures,  Hadst thou but seen, as I did, how at last
And own myself a man: to see our senators      Thy beauteous Belvidera, like a wretch
Cheat'the deluded people with a show           That's doom'd to banishment, came weeping
Of liberty, which yet they' ne'er must taste of.      forth,                        [showers,'1 hey say, -by' them' our hands are free from  Shining  through  tears, like April suns in
fetters;                                 That labour to o'ercome the cloud that loads'em;
1 et whom they please they lay in basest bonds;'Whilst two young -virgins, on whose arms she
Bring whom they please to infamy and sorrow;'        lean'd,
Drive us,  like wrecks, down the rough tide of Kindly look'd up, and at her grief grew sad,
power,' As if they catch'd the sorrows that fell from her.
Whilst nuo: hold' s'left to save us from destruction.'Even the lewd rabble, that were gather'd round
All that bear this are villains, and I one,    To see the sight, stood mute when: they beheld
Not to rouse up at the great call of nature,          her:                              [pity.
And check the growth of these domestic spoilers,  Govern'd their roaring throats, and grumbled
That make us slaves, and tell us,'tis our charter.'I could'have hugg'd the greasy rogues: "they
Jaf. I think no safety can be here for virtue,       I pleas'd me.
And grieve, my friend, as much as thou, to live  Jaf I thank thee for this story; from my soul
In such a wretched state as this of Venice,    Since now I know the worst that can befall me,
Where all:agree to spoil the public good;      Ah, Pierre! I have a heart that could have borne
And villains fatten with the brave man's labours. The roughest wrong my fortune could have done'Pier. We've neither safety', unity, nor peace,     me;
For the foundation's lost'of common good;     But when I think what Belvidera feels,
Justice is lame, as well-as blind, amongst us; "'  The bitterness her tender spirit tastes of,
The laws (corrupted to'.their ends that make'em) Ii own myself a coward  bear my weakness;
Serve but for' instruments of some new tyranny,'If, throwing thus my arms'about thy neck,
That every day starts up, t' enslave us deeper..1 play theboy, and blubber in thy bosom.
Now, could this glorious cause: but find out friends'Oh! I shall drown thee with my sorrows.
To do it right, oh Jaffier! then'might'st thou  Pier. Burn,
Not wear these seals' of wo upon thy face; *   First burn and level Venice to thy ruin.
The proud Priuli should be taught humanity,    What! starve, like beggars' brats, in frosty
And learn'to value such a son as thou art.           weather,
I dare not speak, but my heart bleeds this moment. Under a hedge, and whine ourselves to death!
Jaf. Curs'd be the cause, though I thy friend  Thou or thy cause shall never want assistance,
be'part on't:                           Whilst I have blood or fortune fit to serve thee;
Let me partake the troubles of thy bosom,      Command my heart, thou'rt every way its.master.
For I am us'd to misery, and perhaps             Jaf. No, there's a secret pride in bravely
May find a way:to sweeten't to -thy- spirit.         dying.
Pier. Too soon'twill reach thy knowledge-     Pier. Rats die in holes -and corners, dogs run
Jaf..Then from thee.                               mad;
Let it proceed. There''s virtue in'thy friendship, Man knows a braver remedy for sorrow:
Would make the saddest' tale of sorrow pleasing,  Revenge, the attribute of gods; they stamp'd it,
Strengthen my constancy, and welcome ruin.'Vith Iheir great image- on our natures. Die!
Pier:. Then thou art ruin'd!'            Consider well the cause, that calls upon thee 
Jaf. TThat I long since knew;                And, if thou'rt base enough, die then. RememI and ill fortune have been long acquainted.          ber,
Pier. 1 pass'd this very. moment by thy doors,  Thy Belvidera suffeirs; Belvidera!
And found them guarded by a troop of villains;   Die-damn first-'What! be decently interr'd
The sons of public rapine were destroyin g.    In a church-yard, and mingle thy brave dust
They told me, by the sentence' of the'law,    With stinking rogues, that rot in winding-sheets;
They had commissionto seize all thy fortune:    Surfeit slain fools, the common dung o'th' soil!
Nay more, Priuli's cruel hand'had sign'd it.     Jar Oh!
Here stood a ruffian with a horrid face,         Pier. Well said, out'with't, swear a-littleLording it o'er a pile'of massy plate,           Jaf Swear! By sea and air; by earth, by
Tumbled into a heap for public sale;                 heaven, and hell,
There was another, imaking villanous.jests    I will revenge my Belvidera's'tears,
At thy undoing: he had ta'en possession        Hark thee, my friend-Priuli-is-a senator.
Of all thv ancient, most domestic, ornaments,. Pier. A doe.




252                       VENICE PRESERVED.                                    [ACT n
Jaf. Agreed.                               Give loose to love, with kisses kindling joy,
Pier. Shoot him.                           And let off all the fire that's in my heart.
Jaf. With all my heart.                      Jaf. Oh, Belvidera! doubly I'm a beggar:
No more; where shall we meet at night 1      Undone by fortune, and in debt to thee.
Pier. I'll tell thee;                      Want, worldly want, that hungry, meagre fiend,
On the Rialto, every night at twelve,        Is at my heels, and chases me in view:
I take my evenilig's walk of meditation;     Canst thou bear cold and hunger? Can these
There we two will meet, and talk of precious       limbs,
Mischief-                                    Fram'd for the tender offices of love,
Jaf. Farewell.                             Endure the bitter gripes of smarting poverty?
Pier. At twelve.                           When banish'd by our miseries abroad
Jqf. At any hour; my plagues               (As suddenly we shall be) to seek out
Will keep me waking.          [Exit PIERRE. In some far climate, where our names are strangers,
Tell me why, good Heaven,                    For charitable succour; wilt thou then,
Thou mad'st me what 1 am, with all the spirit,   When in a bed of straw we shrink together,
Aspiring thoughts, and elegant desires,      And the bleak winds shall whistle round our
That fill the happiest man? Ah, rather, why       heads;
Didst thou not form me sordid as my fate,   Wilt thou then talk thus to me? Wilt thou then
Base-minded, dull, and fit to carry burdens!  HIush my cares thus, and shelter me with love?
Why have 1 sense to know the curse that's on   Bel. Oh! I will love thee, even in madness love
me?                                         thee,
Is this just dealing, nature?-Belvidera!  Though my distracted senses should forsake me,
grEnter BELVIDERA.            I'd find some intervals, when my poor heart
Should swage itself, and be let loose to thine.
Poor Belvidera!                            Though the bare earth be all our resting-place,
Bel. Lead me, lead me, my virgins,        Its roots our food, some cleft our habitation,
To that kind voice. My lord, my love, my re- I'll make this arm a pillow for thine head;
fuge!                                And, as thou sighing liest, and swell'd with
Happy  eyes, when they behold thy face t           sorrow
My heavy heart will leave its doleful beating  Creep to thy bosom, pour the balm of love
At sight of thee, and bound with sprightly joys.  Into thy soul, and kiss thee to thy rest;
Oh smile! as when our loves were in their spring, Then praise our God, and watch thee till the
And cheer my fainting soul.                        morning
Jaf. As when our loves                      Jaf. Hear this, ye heavens! and wonder how
Were in their spring! Has then our fortune         you made her:
chang'de Reign, reign, ye monarchs that divide the world,
Art thou not Belvidera, still the same,      Busy rebellion ne'er will let you know
Kind, good, and tender, as my arms first found Tranquillity and happiness like mine 
thee?                                Like gaudy ships th' obsequious billows fall,
If thou art alter'd, where shall I have harbour?   And rise again to lift you in your pride;
Where ease my loaded heart?   Oh! wbe'    And rise again to lift you in your pride;
Where ease my loaded heart?' Oh   where com- They wait but for a storm, and then devour youplain?                               I, in my private bark already wreck'd,
Bel. Does this appear like change, or love Like a poor merchant driven to unknown land
decaying,        -                     That had by chance pack'd up his choicest treasure
When thus I throw myself into thy bosom,     In one dear casket and sav'd only that;
With all the resolution of strong truth?   Since I must wander farther on the shore
Beats not my heart, as'twould alarum thine
To a new charge of bliss? — joy more in thee,   Resolv'd to scorn and trust my fate no more.
Than did thy mother, when she hugg'd thee first,                                [Exeunt.
And bless'd the gods for all her travail past.
Jaf. Can there in woman be such glorious                    ACT II.
faith?
Sure all ill stories of thy sex are false!             SCENE 1.-The Rialto.
Oh woman! lovely woman! nature made thee                 Enter JAFFIER.
To temper man: we had been brutes without you!   Jaf: I'm here; and thus, the shades of night
Angels are painted fair, to look like you:         around me,
There's in you all that we believe of heaven;    1 look as if all hell were in my heart,
Amazing brightness, purity, and truth,      And I in hell. Nay, surely'tis so with me!Eternal joy, and everlasting love.          For every step I tread, methinks some fiend
Bel. If love be treasure, we'll be wondrous Knocks at my breast, and bids me not be quiet.
rich,                                 I've heard how desperate wretches, like myself,
I have so much, my heart will surely break with't: Have wander'd out at this dead time of night,
Vows can't express it. When I would declare   To meet the foe of mankind in his walk.
How great's my joy, I'm dumb with the big Sure I'm so curs'd that, though of heaven forthought;                                    saken,
I swell, and sigh, and labour with my longing.    No minister of darkness cares to tempt me.
O! lead me to some desert wide and wild,    Hell, hell! why sleep'st thou?
Barrer as our misfortunes, where my soul
May have its vent, where I may tell aloud                   Enter PIERRE.
To the high heavens, and every list'ning planet,    Pier. Sure I've staid too long:
With what a boundless stock my bosom's fraught; The clock has struck, and I may lose my proWhere I may throw my eager arms about thee,  Speak, who goes there?               [selyte.




SCNEI.]                   VENICE PRESERVED.                                        253
Jaf. A dog, that comes to howl      [tion? Have made thy friends; friends worthy to be
At yonder moon. What's he that asks the ques-      call'd so.
Pier. A friend to dogs, for they are honest I'll trust thee with a secret. There are spirits
creatures,                             This hour at work.-But as thou art a man,
And ne'er betray their master: never fawn    Whom I have pick'd and chosen from the world,
On any that they love not. Well met, friend:   Swear that thou wilt be true to what I utter;
Jaffier!                                     And when I've told thee that which only gods,
Jaf. The same.                             And men like gods, are privy to, then swear
Pier. Where's Belvidera 1-                 No chance or change shall wrest it from thy
Jaf. For a day or two                            bosom.
I've lodg'd her privately, till I see further  Jaf. When thou wouldst bind me, is their need
What fortune will do for me. Pr'ythee, friend,     of oaths?                        [see
If thou wouldst have me fit to hear good counsel, For thou'rt so near my heart, that thou may'st
Speak not of Belvidera —                     Its bottom, sound its strength and firmness to
Pier. Not of her!                               thee.
Jaf. Oh, no!                              Is coward, fool, or villain, in my face?
Pier. Not name her! May be I wish her If I seem none of these, I dare believe
well.                                  Thou would'st not use me in a little cause,
Jaf. Whom well!                            For I am fit for honour's toughest task,
Pier. Thy wife; thy lovely Belvidera,      Nor (-ver yet found fooling was my province;
I hope a man may wish his friend's wife well,    Ann' for a villanous, inglorious enterprise,
And no harm done?                           I know thy heart so well, I dare lay mine
Jaf Y' are merry, Pierre.                  Before thee, set it to what point thou wilt.
Pier. I am so:                               Pier. Nay,'tis a cause thou wilt be fond o
Thou shalt smile too, and Belvidera smile:         Jaffier;
We'll all rejoice. Here's something to buy pins; For it is founded on the noblest basis,
Marriage is chargeable.    [Gives him a purse. Our liberties, our natural inheritance.
Jaf. 1 but half wish'd                     There's no religion, no hypocrisy in't;
To see the devil, and he's here already. Well!  We'll do the business, and ne'er fast and pray for't;
What must this buy?  Rebellion, murder, trea- Openly act a deed the world shall gaze
son?                                  With wonder at, and envy when'tis done.
Tell me which way I must be dlamn'd for this.  Jaf. For liberty!
Pier. When last we parted, we'd no qualms   Pier. For liberty, my friend.
like these,                            Thou shalt be freed from base Priuli's tyranny,
But entertain'd each other's thoughts like men   And thy sequester'd fortunes heal'd again:
Whose souls were well acquainted. Is the world I shall be freed from those opprobrious wrongs
Reform'd since our last meeting?  What new  That press me now, and bend my spirit downmiracles                                     ward;
Have happen'd? Has Priuli's heart relented?   All Venice free, and every growing merit
Can he be honest?                           Succeed to its just right; fools shall be pull'd
Jaf. Kind Heaven, let heavy curses         From wisdom's seat: those baleful, unclean birds,
Gall his old age: cramps, aches, rack his bones,   Those lazy owls, who, perch'd near fortune's top,
And bitterest disquiet wring his heart.      Sit only watchful with their heavy wings
Oh! let him live, till life become his burden:  To cuff down new-fledg'd virtues, that would rise
Let him groan under't long, linger an age    To nobler heights, and make the grove harmoIn the worst agonies and pangs of death,           nious.
And find its ease but late.                    Jaf. What can I do?
Pier. Nay, couldst thou not                  Pier. Canst thou not kill a senator?
As well, my friend, have stretch'd the curse to all   Jaf. Were there one wise or honest, I could
The senate round, as to one single villain?        kill him,
Jaf. But curses, stick not: could I kill with For herding with that nest of fools and knaves.
cursing,                              By all my wrongs, thou talk'st as if revenge
By Heaven I know not thirty heads in Venice  ~Were to be had; and the brave story warms me.
Should not be blasted. Senators should rot     Pier. Swear then!
Like dogs on dunghills. Oh! for a curse        Jaf. I do, by all those glittering stars,
To kill with!                                And yon great ruling planet of the night;
Pier. Daggers! daggers are much better.   By all good powers above, and ill below;
Jaf. Ha!                                  By love and friendship, dearer than my life,
Pier. Daggers.                            No. power or death shall make me false to thee,'
Jaf. But where are they?  Pier. Here we embrace, and I'll unlock my
Pier. Oh! a thousand                             heart.
May be dispos'd of, in honest hands, in Venice.  A council's held hard by, where the destruction
Jaq: Thou talk'st in clouds.               Of this great empire's hatching: there I'll lead
Pier. But yet a heart, half wrong'd             thee.
As thine has been, would find the meaning, But be a man! for thou'rt to mix with men
Jaffier.                               Fit to disturb the peace of all the world,
Jaf. A thousand daggers, all in honest hands! And rule it when it's wildest —
And have not I a friend will stick one here!   Jaf. I give thee thanks
Pier. Yes, if I thought thou wert not cherish'd  For this kind warning. Yes,'11 be a man,
T' a nobler purpose, I would be thy friend;  And charge thee, Pierre, whene'er thou seest'my
But thou hast better friends; friends whom thy    fears
wrongs                                 Betray me less, to rip this heart of mine
22




254                         VENICE PRESERVED..
Out. of my breast, and show it for a coward's.  Once more embrace, my friends-we'll all emCome, let's be gone, for from this hour I chase     brace.
All. little thoughts, all tender human follies....   United thus, we are the mighty engine
Out of my bosom. Vengeance shall have room: Must twist this rooted empire from its basis.
Revenge:-!,:.   Totters, not. it already' 
Pier. And liberty!                            Elli Would'twere tumbling.
Jaf. Revenge-.revenge-      [E xeunt..   Bed. Nay, it shall down;' this night we seal
SCENIVE ii.AQUILNA's HOUSE.                 its ruin.:nt'eT PIERRE.
Enter RENAULT.                                Enter PIERRE
Enter RENAULT.                 Oh, Pierre, thou art welcome.
Ren. Why was my choice ambition I the. Come to my:breast, fr' byits hopes thou look'st
-. worist.ground                       L-.. ovelilydre:adful, and the fate of Venice'A wretch can build on:!: It's indeed, at'distance   Seems on thy sword' already. Oh, my Mars!
A goodly prospect, tempting to the view;  -'   The poets that first feign'd a god of war,
The height delights us, and the mountain top  Sure prophesied of thee.
Looks beautiful, because it's nigh to heaven.  Pier. Friend, was not Brutus 
But we ne'er think how sandy's the foundationh, (I mean'that Brutus, who,:in open senate -
What storm will' batter, and what tempest shake. Stabb'd the first Ciesar that usurp'd the world,)
Who'Es there-            o.'  [us. A gallant man?.Enter SmPNOS. ~.:Rien. Yes, -and Catiline too 
Spin. Renault, good-morrow,for. by this time   Though story'wrong his fame; for he conspir'd
I think the scale of nighthas turn'd the balance,  To prop the reeling glory of'his country:
And, weighs:up morning.!. Has the clock struck. His cause was good.
twelve'                                 Bed. And ours as much aboveit',
Ren. Yes! clocks will. go as they are set-; but As, Renault, thou'rt superior to Cethegus,
man,.Or Pierreto Cassius.
Irregular man's never c.onstant, never.certain:  Pier. Then to what we'aim at..I've spent at least three precious hours of darkness When do we start? or must we talk for ever?
In waiting dull attendance:'tis the curse      Bed. No, Pierre, -the deed's near birth; fate
Of diligent virtue to.be mix'd, like mine,         seems to have set
With giddy tempers, souls but half resolv'd.  The business up, and given it to our care;
Spin. Hell seize that. soul amongst us it can  I hope there's not a heart or hand amongst us,
frighten.                              But is firm and ready.
Ren. What's then the cause that I am. here.  All. All.
Why are we not together.. [alone.? We'll die with Bedamar.
Bed. 0 men
Enter ELLIOTT.                 Matchless! as will your glory be hereafter:
O, Sir, welcome!: [ing, The game is for a matchless prize, if won;
You are an Englishman: when treason's hatch- If lost, disgraceful ruin.
One might -have thought you'd not have been    Pier. Ten thousand men are armed at your nod,
behindhandi                            Commandedall by leaders fit to guide
In what whore's lap have you been lolling?:  A battle for the freedom of the world:
Give but an. Englishmah his whore and ease,   This wretched state has starv'd themein its serBeef, and a sea-coal fire, he:'s yours for ever.    vice;                           [solved
Ell. Frenchman, you are saucy.             And, by your bounty quicken'd, they re reRen. How!                                  To serve your glory, and revenge their own:
*BEDAIAR, the-'Ambassador; T.EonORE, They've all their different quarters in this city,
Enter BmDA M'ARr the:Ambassador_,-; i'EoDORE, Watch for th' alarm, and grumble'tis so tardy.
BRAMVEIL,- D)URAND,- BRABE,  REVI.LLIDO,   Bede. I doubt not, friend, but thy unwearied
MEZZANA, TERNON, and RETROSI, Conspira-           diligence
Has still kept waking, and it.shall have ease;
Bed. At difference;. fie!...                After this night it is resolv'd we meet
Is this a time for quarrels? Thieves and rogues   No more till Venice owns us for- her lords.
Fall out and brawl:-.should men -of your high    Pier. Etlow lovelily the Adriatic whore
calling,..                      Dress'd in' her flames, will shine!  Devouring
Men separated. by the choice of Providence         flames
From the gross heap of mankind,'and set here  - Such- as shall burn her to the watery bottom,
In this assembly as.. in one great jewel,'  And hiss in her foundation.
T' adorn the bravest purpose it e'er smil'd on;,,  Bed. Now if any
Should you, like boys, wrangle for trifles?'  Amongst us, that owns this glorious cause,
Ren., Boys!                                Have friends or interest he'd wish to save.Bed. Renault, thy. hand;',"'      Let it be told'! the general doom is seald;
Ren. [ thought I'd given my heart          But I'd forego the hopes of a world's empire,
Long since to every man that mingles here;   Rather than wound the bowels of my friend.
But grieve to find it trusted with such tempers,  Pier. I must confess, you there have touch'd
That can't forgive my froward age its weakness.     my weakness.
Bed. Elliott, thou once hadst virtue. I have I have a friend; hear it! such a friend,
seen                                   My heart was ne'er shut to him. Nay, I'll tei,
Thy stubborn temper bend with godlike goodness,     you;
Not half thus courted.'Tis thy nation's-glory    He knows the very business of this hour;
To. hug the foe, that offers brave alliance.  But he rejoices in the cause, and loves it:




SCENE I.]                   VENICE PRESERVED.                                         -255
We've chang'd a vow to live and die together,    And fill my ears with the soft breath of love.
And he's at hand to ratify it here.           Thou hourly image of my thoughts, where art
Ren. How! all betray'd!                          thou?.
Pier. No-i've nobly dealt with you;            Jaf. Indeed'tis late.
I've brought my all into the.public stock:...       Bel. Alas! where. am I? whither,is't you lead
I've but one friend, and him  1.'ll share among.     me.
you: c                                  Methinks 1 read distraction in-your face,
Receive and cherish him; or if, when seen      Something less gentle than the fate you tell me.
And. search'd;you find him worthless,-as. myi You. shake.. and tremble too!. your blood runs
tongue.       cold!
Has lodg'd this secret in his faithful breast,-  Heavens guard my love, and bless his heart with
To ease- your- fears; I; wear a dagger here. patience..
Shall rip it out again, and give you rest.:    Jaf.:That.I have patience, let our: fate bear
Come forth,:thou only good-.I e'er could boast of.   witness,
Who has ordain'd it.so, that thou and I
Enter JAPPIER, with a dagger., I
Enter JAFIERith a dagger.  (Thou, the divinest good man:e'er possess'd,
Bed. His presence hbears the.show.of manly. And I. the- wretched'st of the race of man)... -
virtue..                                 This very hour, without one tear, must part. -.
Jaf:..1 know you'll wonder all, that, thus,. un-   Bel. Part.! must we part?:-. Oh,: am  I then
call'd,'forsakenly.;.
I dare approach this.place..of fatal councils.;........ Why drag you from me? whither are yougoing?
But I'm amongst you, and by Heaven it glads me'.My dear! my life! my love!
To see so many virtues thus united.             Jaf. Oh, friends!
To restore justice, and dethrone oppression.     Bel. Speak. to.me.
Command. this sword, if you would have it quiet,:  Ja.f;..Take her from my heart, -
Into this breast.; but, if you think it worthy  She'll gain such hold.else, I. shall. ne'er get loose.
To.cut the.throats of reverend rogues in robes,   I charge thee. take.her, but with tenderist care.
Send me into the curs'd assembled senate:      Relieve, her troubles, and assuage her sorrows.
It shrinks not, though I meet a father there.    Ren. Rise,. Madam, and command amongst
Would you behold this city flaming? here's           your servants.
A hand shall bear a lighted torch at noon        Jaf. To you, Sirs, and your honours, I beTo th' arsenal, and set its gates on fire.           qucath her;
Ren. You talk this well, Sir.                And with her this when I prove unworthyJaqf Nay-by Heaven, I'll do this.                                         [Gives a dagger.
Come, come, I read distrust in all your faces;  You know the rest-then strike it to her heart;
You fear me, villain, and, indeed, it's odd..  And tell her, he who three whole happy years
To hear a stranger talk thus, at first meeting,    Lay in her arms, and each kind night repeated
Of matters that have.been so well debated;.    The passionate vows of still increasing love,
But I come ripe with wrongs, as you with: Sent that reward for all her truth and sufferings.
councils.                                  Bel. Nay, take. my life, since he has sold it
I hate this. senate, am a foe. to Venice;.            cheaply.,A friend.to none, but men resolv'd like me..! thou unkind one;
To push on mischief. Oh! did you but know me, Never meet more.! have I deserved this from you;
I. need.not talk thus!............      Look on me, tell me, speak, thou fair deceiver.
Bed.' Pierre, I must. embrace him.           Why am I separated from thy love.
Myy heart beats to this man, as.if.it- knew.him.   Ifl am false,. accuse.me; but, if true,
Ren. I never lov'd these huggers..          Don't, pr'ythee don't, in poverty forsake me,
Jaf. Still I see                             But pity the sad heart that's torn with parting.
The cause delights ye not. Your friends survey  Yet hear me, yet, recall meme                                                          [Exit REN. BED. and BEL.
As I were dangerous-But I come arm'd.-         Jaf. Oh! my eyes,
Against all doubts, and to your trust will give  Look not that way, but turn yourselves awhile
A pledge.worth more.than.all the world can pay  Into my heart, and be wean'd altogether.
for.                                    My friend, where art thou?
My Belvidera. HYoa; my Belvidera!               Pier. Here, my honour's brother.
Bed. What wonder's next.                   Jaf. Is Belvidera gone?
Jaf. Let me entreat you,                       Pier. Renault has led her
As I have henceforth hopes to call you friends,   Back to her own apartment; but, by Heaven,
That all but the ambassador, and this          Thou must not see her more, till ourwork's over.
Grave guide of councils, with my friend that.owns    Jafr No!
me,                                       Pier. Not for your life.
Withdraw awhile, to spare a woman's blushes.     Jaf. Oh, Pierre, wert thou but she,
-[Exeunt all but BEDAMAR, RENAULT,: HOW I would pull thee down.into my  heart.
JAFFIER, and PIERRE.                Gaze on thee, till my eye-strings crack'd with
Enter BELVIDERA.                       love;
Then, swelling, sighing, raging to be bless'd,
Bed. Pierre, whither will this ceremony lead  Come like a panting turtle to my breast;
us?                                      On thy soft bosom hovering, bill, and play
JafV  My Belvidera! Belvidera!               Confess'd the cause why last I fled away
Del. Who,                                    Own'twas a fault, but swear.to give it o'er,
Who calls so loud at this late peaceful hour.   And never follow false ambition more.
That voice was wont.to come in gentle whispers,.                                    rEeun
rExeunt,




250                       VENICE PRESERVED.                                  jiAorII.
ACT III.                      Bel. Speak!
SCENE I.-A  Chamber.                 Jaf. To kill thy fatherBel. My father!
Enter BELVIDERA.                  Jaf. Nay, the throats of the whole senate
Bel. I'm sacrific'd! I'm sold! betray'd to shame! Shall bleed, my Belvidera. He amongst us,
Inevitable ruin has enclos'd me!            That spares his father, brother, or his friend,
He that should guard my virtue has betray'd it!  Is damn'd.
Left me! undone me! Oh, that I could hate him!   Bel. Oh!
Where shall I go? Oh, whither, whither wander?   Jaf. Have a care, and shrink not even in
Enter JAFFIER.                For if thou dost-                  [thought.
Bel. I know it; thou wilt kill me.
Jaf. Can Belvidera want a resting-place,   Do, strike thy sword into this bosom: lay me
When these poor arms are ready to receive her i Dead on the earth, and then thou wilt be safe.
There was a time-                            Murder my father! though his cruel nature
Bel. Yes, yes, there was a time,  e        Has persecuted me to my undoing;
When Belvidera's tears, her cries, and sorrows,   Driven me to basest wants; can I behold him,
Were not despis'd; when, if she chanc'd to sigh,  With smiles of vengeance, butcher'd in his age?
Or look'd but sad-there was indeed a time,   The sacred fountain of my life destroy'd 2
When Jaffier would have ta'en her in his arms,  And canst thou shed the blood that gave me beEas'd her declining head upon his breast,            ing?
And never left her till he found the cause.  Nay, be a traitor too, and sell thy country?
Jaf. Oh, Portia, Portia! what a soul was Can thy great heart descend so vilely low,
thine!                             Mix with hir'd slaves, bravoes, and common stabBel. That Portia was a woman; and when             bers,
Brutus,                    [safety!) Nose-slitters, alley-lurking villains! join
Big with the fate of Rome, (Heaven guard thy With such a crew, and take a ruffian's wages,
Conceal'd from her the labours of his mind;  To cut the throats of wretches as they sleep?
She let him see her blood was great as his,    Jaf: Thou wrong'st me, Belvidera! I've enFlow'd from a spring as noble, and a heart           gag'd
Fit to partake his troubles as his love.     With men of souls; fit to reform the ills
Fetch, fetch that dagger back, the dreadful dower, Of all mankind: there's not a heart among them
Thou gav'st last night in parting with me; But's stout as death, yet honest as the nature
strike it                           Of man first made, ere fraud and vice were fashion.
Here to my heart; and, as the blood flows from it,   Bel. What's he, to whose curs'd hands last
Judge if it run not pure, as Cato's daughter's.      night thou gav'st me 
Jaf. Oh! Belvidera 2                      Was that well done? Oh! I could tell a story,
Bel. Why was I last nightdeliver'd to a villain? Would rouse thy lion heart out of its den,
Jaf. Ha! a villain!                      And make it rage with terrifying fury.
Bel. Yes, to a villain! why at such an hour  Jaf. Speak on, I charge thee.
Meets that assembly, all made up of wretches?  DBel. 0 my love! If e'er
Why, I in this hand, and in that a dagger,  Thy Belvidera's peace deserv'd thy care,
Was I deliver'd with such dreadful ceremonies?  Remove me from this place. Last night, last
To you, Sirs, and to your honours, I bequeath        night!
her,                                  Jaf. Distract me not, but give me all the truth.
And with her this: whene'er I prove unworthy-    Bel. No sooner wert thou gone, and I alone,
You know the rest-then strike it to her heart.   Left in the power of that old son of mischief;
Oh! why's that rest conceal'd from me 2 must I  No sooner was I lain on my sad bed,
Be made the hostage of a hellish trust?    But that vile wretch approach'd me, loose, unFor such I know I am; that's all my value.          button'd,
But, by the love and loyalty I owe thee,     Ready for violation. Then my heart
I'll free thee from the bondage of the slaves;  Throbb'd with its fears: Oh, how I wept and
Straight to the senate, tell'em all I know,         sigh'd,                        [him
All that I think, all that my fears inform me.  And shrunk and trembled! wish'd in vain for
Jaf. Is this the Roman virtue; this the blood   That should protect me! Thou, alas! wert gone
That boasts its purity with Cato's daughter   Jaf. Patience, sweet heaven, till I make venWould she have e'er betray'd her Brutus?            geance sure:
Bel. No:                                    Bel. He drew the hideous dagger forth, thou
For Brutus trusted her. Wert thou so kind,           gav'st him,
What would not Belvidera suffer for thee 2  And with upbraiding smiles, he said, Behold it:
Jaf. I shall undo myself, and tell thee all.  This is the pledge of a false husband's love:
Yet think a little, ere thou tempt me further;    And in my arms then press'd, and would have
Think I've a tale to tell will shake thy nature,     clasp'd me;
Melt all this boasted constancy thou talk'st of,    But with my cries I scar'd his coward heart,
Into vile tears and despicable sorrows:'Till he withdrew, and mutter'd vows to hell.
Then if thou shouldst betray me!-           These are thy friends! with these thy life, thy
Bel. Shall I swear?                               honour,
Jaf. No, do not swear: I would not violate  Thy love, all stak'd, and all will go to ruin.
Thy tender nature, with so rude a bond:        Jaf. No more: I charge thee keep this secret
But as thou hop'st to see me live my days,           close.
And love thee long, lock this within thy breast:  Clear up thy sorrows; look as if thy vrongs
I've bound myself, by all the strictest sacraments  Were all forgot, and treat him like a friend,
Divine and human-                            As no complaint were made. No more; retire,




SCENE 1.1                   VENICE PRESERVED.                                     257
Retire, my life, and doubt not of my honour;  And keep thy temper; for a brave revenge
[111 heal its failings, and deserve thy love.  Ne'er comes too late.
Bel. Oh! should I part with thee, I fear thou   Ja. Fear not, I am cool as patience.
wilt                                   Pier. He's yonder, coming this way through
In anger leave me, and return no more.              the hall;.Jaf. Return no more! I would not live with- His thoughts seem full.
out thee                              Jaf. Pr'ythee retire, and leave me
Another night, to purchase the creation.     With him alone: I'll put him on some trial;
Bel. When shall we meet again?            See how his rotten part will bear the touching.
Jaf. Anon, at twelve                         Pier. Be careful, then.            [Exit.
I'11 steal myself to thy expecting arms:       Jaf. Nay, never doubt, but trust me.
Come like a travell'd dove, and bring thee peace.  What! be a devil, take a damning oath
Bel. Indeed!                             For shedding native blood! Can there be a sin
Jaf. By all our loves.                    In merciful repentance.  Oh, this villain!
Bel.'Tis hard to part:                                 Enter RENAULT
But sure no falsehood ever look'd so fairly.
Farewell; remember twelve.           [Exit.   Ren. Perverse and peevish! what a slave is
Jaf. Let heaven forget me,                 To let his rebel passions master him!  [man
When I remember not thy truth, thy love.     Despatch the tool her husband-that were well.
Who's there?
Enter PIERRE.                   Jaf. A man.
Pier. Jaffier!                              Ren. My friend, my near ally,
Jaf. Who calls?                           The hostage of your faith, my beauteous charge,
Pier. A friend, that could have wish'd            is very well.
T' have found thee otherwise employ'd. What,   Jaf. Sir, are you sure of that?
hunt                                Stands she in perfect health? Beats her pulse
A wife, on the dull soil! Sure a staunch husband Neither too hot nor cold?        [even;
Of all hounds is the dullest. Wilt thou never,   RPen. What means that question?
Never be wean'd from caudles and confections?  Jaf. Oh! women have fantastic constitutions,
What feminine tales hast thou been list'ning to,  Inconstant in their wishes, always wavering,
Of unair'd sheets, catarrhs, and tooth-ach, got    And never fix'd.  Was it not boldly done,
By thin-sol'd shoes  Damnation! that a fellow,  Even at first sight, to trust the thing I lov'd
Chosen to be a sharer in the destruction    (A tempting treasure too) with youth so fierce
Of a whole people, should sneak thus into corners And vigorous as thine. but thou art honest.
To ease his fulsome lusts, and fool his mind.  Ren. Who dares accuse me?
Jaf. May not a man then trifle out an hour  Jaf: Curs'd be he that doubts
With a kind woman, and not wrong his calling? Thy virtue! I have tried it, and declare,
Pier. Not in a cause like ours.           Were I to choose a guardian of my honour,
Jaf. Then, friend, our cause               I'd put it in thy keeping: for I know thee.
Is in a damn'd condition: for I'll tell thee,  Ren. Know me!
That cankerworm, call'd lechery, has touch'd it;   Jaf. Ay, know thee. There's no falsehood in'Tis tainted vilely.  Wouldst thou think it?        thee.
Renault                             Thou look'stjust as thou art. Let us embrace.
(That mortified, old, wither'd, winter rogue,)  Now wouldst thou cut my throat, or I cut thine.
Wie visited her last night, like a kind guardian:  Ren. You dare not do't.
Faith! she has some temptation, that s the truth   Jaf. You lie, Sir.
on't.                                 Ren. How!
Pier. He durst not wrong his trust.         Jaf. No more,
Jaf.'Twas something late, though,'Tis a base world, and must reform, that's all.
To take the freedom of a lady's chamber.,,
Pier. Was she in bed?                     Enter SPINOSA,  THEODORE, ELLIOTT,   REVILJafi Yes, faith, in virgin sheets,          LIDO, DURAND, BROMVEIL, and the rest of the
White as her bosom, Pierre, dish'd neatly up,  Conspirators.
Might tempt a weaker appetite to taste.       Ren. Spinosa! Theodore!
Oh! how the old fox stunk, I warrant thee,    Spin. The same.
When the rank fit was on him!                 Ren. You are welcome.
Pier. Patience guide me!                    Spin. You are trembling, Sir.
EHe us'd no violence?                         Ren.'Tis a cold night, indeed, and I am aged~;
Jaf. No, no; out on't, violence!         Full of decay and natural infirmities:
Play'd with her neck; brush'd her with his gray           Re-enter PIERRE.
beard;
But not a jot of violence.                  We shall be warm, my friends, I hope, to-marrow.
Pier. Damn him.                              Pier.'Twas not well done; thou shouldst have
Jaf. Ay, so say I: but hush, no more on't.         strok'd him,
All hitherto is well, and I believe          And not have gall'd him.
Myself no monster yet. Sure it is near the hour   Jaf. Damn him, let him chew on't.
We all should meet for our concluding orders:   Heaven! where am I? beset with cursed fiends,
Will the ambassador be here in person?  That wait to damn me! What a devil's man,
Pier. No, he has sent commission to that vil- When he forgets his nature-hus, my heart.
lain, Renault,                        Ren. My friends,'tis late; are we assemble<d
To[ give the executing charge:                       all 2
I'd have thee be a man, if possible,         To-morrow's rising sun must see you. all!
VOL. I.... 2 K     22*




258                       VENICE PRESERVED.                                      [ACT lIT.
Deck'd in your honours. Are the soldiers ready? Who would do less? Wouldst thou not, Pierre
Pier. All, all.                                      the same?
Ren. You, Durand, with your thousand, must. Pier. You've singled me, Sir, out for this hard
possess                       [ready,          question,
St. Mark's; you, captain, know your charge al- As if it were started only for my sake!'Tis to secure the ducal palace.               Am I the thing you fear. -Here, here's my bosom,
Be all this done with the least tumult possible,    Search it with all your swords. Am I a traitor?'Till in each place you post sufficient guards;  Ren. No: but I fear your late commended
Then sheathe your swords in every breast you           friend
meet.                                 Is little less. Come, Sirs,'tis now no time
Jaf. Oh! reverend cruelty! damn'd bloody vil- To trifle with our safety. Where's this- Jaffier?
lain!                                   Spin.  He left the room just now, in strange
Ren. During this execution, Durand, you              disorder.
Must in the midst keep your battalia fast;       Ren. Nay, there is danger in him. I observ'd
And, Theodore, be sure to plant the cannon             him;
That they may command the streets;            During the time I took for explanation,
This done, -we'll give the general alarm,      He -was transported from most deep attention
Apply petards, and force the ars'nal gates;    To a confusion which he could not smother;
Then fire the city round in several places,    His looks grew full of sadness and surprise,
Or with our cannon (if it dare resist)         All which betray'd a wavering spirit in him,
Batter to ruin. But above all, I charge you,   That ]abour'd with reluctancy and sorrow.
Shed blood enough; spare neither sex nor age,   What's requisite for safety, must be done
Name -nor condition; if there live a senator  With speedy execution; he remains
After to-morrow, though the dullest rogue      Yet in our power: I, for my own part, wear
That e'er said nothing, we have lost our ends.    A dagger-.
If possible, let's kill the very name            Pier. Well.
Of senator, and bury it in blood.                Ren. And I could. wish itJaf. Merciless, horrid slave! Ay, blood enough!   Pier. Where?
Shed blood-enough, old  Renault! how  thou    Ren. Buried in his heart.
charm'st me!                           Pier. Away, we're yet all friends,
Ren. But one thing more, and then farewell, No more of this,'twill breed ill blood among us.
till fate                               Spin. Let us all draw our swords, and search
Join us again, or sep'rate us for ever.                the house,                       [ing
First let's embrace.  Heaven knows who next:Pull him from the dark hole where he sits brood
shall thus                            O'er his cold fears, and each man kill his share of
Wing ye together; but let's all remember,              him.
We wear no common cause upon our swords:         Pier. Who talks of killing? Who's he'll shed
Let each man think that on his single virtue           the blood
Depends the good and fame of all the rest;     That's dear to me? is't you, or you, or you, Sir?
Eternal honour, or perpetual infamy. -         What, not one speak! how you stand gaping all
You droop, Sir.                                On your grave oracle, your wooden god there!
Jaf. No; with most profound attention       Yet not a:word! Then, Sir, I'll tell you a secret,
I've heard it all, and wonder at thy virtue.   Suspicion's but at best a coward's virtue.
Oh, Beelvidera! take me to thy arms,                                         [ ToRENAULT.
And show me where's my peace, for I have lost   Ren. A coward!           [Handles his sword.
it.                           [Exit.   Pier. Put up thy sword, old man;
Ren. Without the least remorse then, let's re- Thy hand shakes at it. Come, let's heal this
solve                                          breach,
With fire and sword t' exterminate these tyrants, I am too hot, we yet may all live friends.
Under whose weight this wretched country la-   Spin. Till we are safe, our friendship cannot
bours;                                         be so.
The means are only in our hands to crown them.   Pier. Again! Who's that'
Pier. And may those powers above that are    Spin.'Twas I.
propitious                              Theo. And I.
To gallant minds, record this cause and bless it.    Ren. And I.
Ren. Thus happy, thus secure of all we wish.    Omnes. And all.
Should there, my friends, be found among us one   Ren. Who are on my side?
False to this glorious enterprise,- what fate,   Spin. Every honest sword.
What vengeance, were.enough for such a vil- Let's die like men, and not be sold like slaves.
lain'?                                  Pier. One such word more, by heaven I'll to
Elli. Death here without repentance, hell here-      the senate,
after.                                And hang ye all, like dogs, in clusters.
Ren. Let that be my lot, if as here I stand,    Why weep your coward swords half out their
Listed by fate among her darling sons,                 shells'?
Though I had one only brother, dear by all    Why do you not all brandish them like mine'
The strictest ties of nature; -could I have such a You fear to die, and yet dare talk of killing.
friend                                  Ren. Go to the senate, and betray us! haste'
Join'd in this cause, and had but ground to fear   Secure thy wretched life; we fear to die
He meant foul play; may this right hand drop Less than thou dar'st be honest.
from me,                                Pier. That's rank falsehood.
If I'd not hazard all my future peace,         Fear'st not thou death! Fie, there's a knavish
A nd, stab him to the heart before you: who,           itch




EoENE II.]                 VENICE PRESERVED.                                        259
In that salt blood, an utter foe to smarting.  Will wake me into madness.
Had Jaffier's wife prov'd kind, he'd still been true. Destruction, swift destruction, fall on my coward
Faugh, how that stinks! thou die, thou kill my:       head.
friend!                                Bel. Delay no longer then, but to the senate,
Or thou! or thou! with that lean wither'd face.   And tell the dismal'st story ever utter'd:
Away, disperse all to your several charges,   Tell'em what bloodshed, rapines, desolations,:
And meet to-morrow where your honour calls you. Have been prepar'd: how near's the fatal hour.
I'll bring that man, whose blood' you so. much Save thy poor country, save the-reverend blood
thirst for,-                         Of all its nobles, which to-morrow's dawn.
And you shall see him venture for you fairly-   Must else see shed,: -
Hence.! hence.: I say.                          Jaf. Oh! think what then may prove my lot;
[Exit RENAULT,. angrily. By all heaven's powers, prophetic truth dwells: in
Spin. I fear we've been to blame,                   thee;
And' done too mnuch.-.                        For every word thou speak'st, strikes through my
Theo.'Twas-too far urg'd against the man you: heart
lov'd.                               Just what'thou'st made.me; take me, Belvidera,
Rev. Here, take our swords, and crush them  And lead me to the place where I'm to say
with your feet.                      This bitter lesson;. where I must betray.
Spin. Forgive us, gallant friend.           My truth, my virtue, constancy, and friends.Pier. Nay, now you've found                 Must I betray my friend? Ah! take me quickly;
The way to melt, and cast me as you will.     Secure me well before that thought's renew'd;
Whence rose all this discord?                If I relapse once' more, all's lost for ever.
Oh, what a dangerous precipice have we'scap'd!   Bel. Hast thou a friend more dear than BelviHow near a fall was all we'd long been building!      dera?
What an eternal blot had stain'd our glories,   Jaf. No; thou'rt my-soul itself; wealth, friendIf one, the bravest and the best of men,              ship, honour;
Had fallen a sacrifice to rash suspicion,     All present joys,: and earnest of all future,
Butcher'd by those whose cause he came to Are summ'd in thee.
cherish!                             Come, lead me forward, now, like
Come but to-morrow, all your doubts shall end,   To sacrifice. Thus, in his fatal garlands
And to your loves, me better recommend,       Deck'd fine and pleas'd, the wanton skips and
That I've preserv'd.your fame, and sav'd my          plays,
friend.                    Exeunt. Trots by th' enticing, flatt'ring, priestess' side,
And, much transported with its little pride,
ACT  IV.                    Forgets his dear companions of the plain;
Till, by her bound, he's on the altar lain,
SCENE I.- The Ricalto.             Yet then, too, hardly bleats, such pleasure's in the
Enter JAPFIER and BELVIDERA.                   pain.
Jaf. Where: dost thou lead me? Every step I      Enter OFFICER and si Guards.
move,..                                ffi. Stand! who goes there?
Methinks I tread upon some mangled limb:       Bel. Friends.
Of a rack'd friend.: 0; my:charming ruin:!   OQi. But what friends are you 
Where are we wandering.  Bel. Friends to the senate, and the state of
Bel. To eternal honour.                             Venice.
To do a deed shall chronicle.thy name.i-:-O. My orders are to seize on all I find
Among the glorious legends of those few      At this late hour, and bring'em to the council,
That have sav'd sinking:nations.  Thy renown  Who are now sitting.
Shall be the future song of all the virgins,   Jaf: Sir, you shall be obey'd.
Who by thy piety have been preserv'd:.      Now the lot's cast, and fate, do what thou wilt.
From horrid -violation.: Every. street -                               [Exeunt, guarded.
Shall be adorn'd with statues to thy honour;.:
And at thy feet this great inscription- written,    SCENE 11.-The Senate-House.
Remember him that propp'd- the fall -of Venice. 
Jaf Rather, remember him, who, after all
The sacred bonds'of oaths, and holier friendship,   Duke. Antony,. Priuli'senators of Venice,
In fond compassion to:a woman's tears,   Speak, why are we assembled here to-night.
Forgot his manhood, virtue, truth, and honour,'What have you to inform us of, concerns
To sacrifice the bosom that reliev'd him.    The state of Venice' honour, or its safety?
Why wilt:thou damn me? I                       Pri. Could'words express the story I've to tell
Bel. Oh, inconstant man!....                       you,
How will you promise; - how will you deceive'!   Fathers, these tears were useless, these sad tears
Do, return back, replace me in my bondage;,   That fall frorri my old eyesl but there is cause
Tell all-my friends how dangerously thou lov'st We all should weep, tear off these purple robes,
me,                                  And wrap ourselves in sackcloth, sitting down
And let thy dagger do its bloody office.      On the sad earth, and cry aloud to heaven.
Or, if thou think'st it nobler, let me live,  Heaven knows, if yet there be an hour to come
Till I'm.a victim to the hateful lust        Ere Venice be no more.
Of that infernal devil.                         All Sen. How!
Last night, my love!                            Pri. Nay, we stand
Jaf: Name it not again;:                 Upon the very brink of gaping ruin.
It shows a beastly image to my fancy,         Within this city-'"sform'd a' dark conspiracy,




260                        VENICE P RESERVED.                                  [ACT Iv,
To massacre us all, our wives and children,    Jaf. Then here's the list, and with't the *full
Kindred and friends, our palaces and temples         disclose
To lay in ashes; nay, the hour too fix'd;    Of all that threatens you.    [Delivers a paper
The swords, for aught I know, drawn e'en this Now, fate, thou hast caught me.
moment,                                Duke. Give order that all diligent search be
And the wild waste begun. From unknown hands         made
I had this warning; but, if we are men,      To seize these men, their characters are public;
Let's not be tamely butcher'd, but do something   The paper intimates their rendezvous
That may inform the world, in after ages,    To be at the house of a fam'd Grecian courtezan.
Our virtue was not ruin'd, though we were.  Call'd Aquilina: see that place secur'd.
[Noise. You, Jaffier, must with patience bear till morning
Room, room, make room for some prisoners-    To be our prisoner.
Jaf. Would the chains of death
Had bound me safe, ere I had known thisminute.
Duke. Speak, there. What disturbance?      Duke. Captain, withdraw your prisoner.
Offl. Two prisoners have the guards seiz'd in   Jaf. Sir, if possible,
the street,                         Lead me where my own thoughts themselves may
Who say they come t'inform this reverend senate     lose me;
About the present danger.                   Where I may doze out what I've left of life,
Forget myself, and this day's guilt and falsehood.
Cruel remembrance, how shall I appease thee?
All Sen. Give'em entrance.-Well, who are                                       [Exit.
you.                                  Offi. [JFJithout.] More traitors; room, room,
Jaf. A villain!                                   room, make room there.
Would every man, that hears me,               Duke. How's this. guards!
Would deal so honestly, and own his title.  Where are our guards 1 Shut up the gates, the
Duke.'Tis rumour'd, that a plot has been         treason's
contriv'd                           Already at our doors.
Against this state; and you've a share in't too:           Enter OFFICER.
If you are a villain, to redeem your honour,
Unfold the truth, and be restor'd with mercy.  Offl. My lords, more traitors,
Jaf. Think not, that I to save my life came Seiz'd in the very act of consultation;
hither;                             Furnish'd with arms and instrumnents of mischief.
I know its value better; but in pity        Bring in the prisoners.
To all those wietches whose unhappy dooms
Are fix'd and seal'd. You see me here befbre you,                              EITT
e        and  see me here befre you,  REVILLIDO, and other Conspirators, infetters.
The sworn and covenanted.foe of Venice:
But use me as my dealings may deserve,        Pier. You, my lords, and fathers
And I may prove a friend.                   (As you are pleas'd to call yourselves) of Venice,
Duke. The slave capitulates;'           If you sit here-to guide the course of justice,
Give him the tortures.                      Why these disgraceful chains upon the limbs
Jaf: That you dare not do;                That hive so often labour'd in your service? 
Your fear won't let you, not the longing itch  Are these the wreaths of triumph ye bestow
To hear the story which you dread the truth of:  On those, that bring you conquest home and'
Truth, which the fear of smart shall ne'er get       honours?.
from me.                  [whipp'd   Duke. Go on; you shall be heard, Sir.
Cowards are scar'd with threat'nings; boys are   Ant. And be hang'd too, I hope.
Into confessions; but a steady mind           Pier. Are these the trophies I've deserv'd for
Acts of itself, ne'er asks the body counsel.        fighting
Give him the tortures! Name but such a thing   Your battles with confederated powers?
Again, by Heaven i'll shut these lips for ever.    When winds and seas conspir'd to overthrow you,
Not all your racks, your engines, or your wheels, And brought the fleets of Spain to your own
Shall force a groan away, that you may guess at.     harbours;
Duke. Name your conditions.               When you, great duke, shrunk trembling in your
Jaf. For myself full pardon,                       palace,
Besides the lives of two-and-twenty friends,  And saw your wife, the Adriatic, plough'd,
Whose names are here enroll'd. Nay, let their Like a lewd whore, by bolder prows than yours,
crimes                              Stepp'd not I forth, and taught your loose VeneBe ne'er so monstrous, I must have the oaths         tians
And sacred promise of this reverend council,  The task of honour, and the way to greatness?
That, in a full assembly of the senate,     Rais'd you from your capitulating fears
The thing I ask be ratified. Swear this,    To stipulate the terms of sued-for peace?
And I'll unfold the secret of your danger.  And this my recompense! if I'm a traitor,
Duke. Propose'the oath.                   Produce my charge; or show the wretch that's
Jaf. By all the hopes                              base
Ye have of peace and happiness hereafter,   And brave enough to tell me I'm a traitor.
Swear. —Ye swear?                            Duke. Know you one Jaffier?
All Sen. We swear.                                               [Conspirators murmur.
Jaf. And, as ye keep the oath,               Pier. Yes, and know his virtue.     [ings
May you and your posterity be bless'd,       His justice, truth, his general worth; and sufferOr curs'd for ever.                          From a hard father, taught me first to love him.
All Sen. Else be curs'd for ever.           Duke. See him brought forth.




CENE HI.]                   VE NICE PRESERVED.                                     2061
Enter JAFFIER, guarded.           Poor, even in soul, and loathsome in thy aspect;
All eyes must shun thee, and all hearts detest
Pier. My friend too bound! nay then                thee.
Our fate has conquer'd us, and we must fall.  Pr'ythee avoid; nor longer cling thus round me,
Why droops the man whose welfare's so much  Like something baneful, that my nature's chill'd at.
mine,                                  Jaf. I have not wrong'd thee, by these tears I
They're but one thing? These reverend tyrants,       have not.
Jaffier,                               Pier. east thou not wrong'd me? Dar'st thou
Call us traitors. Art thou one, my brother.         call thyself
Jaf. To thee, I am the falsest, veriest slave,    That once lov'd, valued friend of mine.
That e'er betray'd a generous, trusting friend,    And swear thou hast not wrong'd me? Whence
And gave up honour to be sure of ruin.               these chains?
All our fair hopes, which morning was t' have  Whence the vile death which I may meet this
crown'd,                                     moment?
Has this curs'd tongue o'erthrown.           Whence this dishonour, but from thee, thou false
Pier. So, then all's over:                        one?
Venice has lost her freedom, 1 my life.        Jaf. All's true; Yet grant one thing, and I've
No more! Farewell!                                  done asking.
Duke. Say, will you make confession          Pier. What's that?
Of your vile deeds, and trust the senate's mercy?   Jaf. To take thy life on such conditions
Pier. Curs'd be your senate: curs'd your con- The council have propos'd: thou, and thy friends,
stitution:                           May yet live long, and to be better treated.
The curse of growing factions and divisions    Pier. Life! ask my life! confess! record my.
Still vex your councils, shake your public safety,   self
And make the robes of government you wear    A villain, for the privilege to breathe!
Hateful to you, as these base chains to me.  And carry up and down this cursed city,
Duke. Pardon, or death?                   A discontented and repining spirit,
Pier. Death! honourable death!           Burdensome to itself, a few years longer;
Ren. Death's the best thing we ask, or you  To lose it, may be at last, in a lewd quarrel
can give;                            For some new friend, treacherous and false as
No shameful bonds, but honourable death.             thou art!
Duke. Break up the council.  Captain, guard  No, this vile world and I have long been jangling,
your prisoners,                      And cannot part on better terms than now,
Jaffier, you're f-ee, but these must wait for judg- When only men, like thee, are fit to live in't.
ment.       [Exeunt all the Senators.   Jaf.'By all that's justPier; Come, where's my dungeon? Lead me    Pier. Swear by some other power,
to my straw:                         For thou hast broke that sacred oath too lately.
It will not be the first time I've lodg'd hard  Jaf Then, by that hell I merit, I'll not leave
To do the senate service.                            thee,
Jaf. Hold, one moment.                     Till, to thyself, at least, thon'rt reconcild,
Pier. Who's he disputes the judgment of the  However thy resentment deal with me.
senate?                                Pier. Not leave me?
Presumptuous rebel-on-     [Strikes JAPPIER.   Jaf. No; thou shalt not force me from thee.
Jaf. By Heaven, you stir not!             Use me reproachfully, and like a slave;
I must be heard; I must have leave to speak.  Tread on me, buffet me, heap wrongs on wrongs
Thou hast disgrac'd me, Pierre, by a vile blow:   On my poor head; I'll bear it all; with patience
Had not a dagger done thee nobler justice?  Shall weary out thy most unfriendly cruelty:
But use me as thou wilt, thou canst not wrong  Lie at thy feet, and kiss'em, though they spurn
me,                                          me;
For I am fallen beneath the basest injuries:  Till, wounded by my sufferings, thou relent,
Yet look upon me with an eye of mercy,       And raise me to thy arms, with dear forgiveness.
With pity and with charity behold me:          Pier. Art thou notBut, as there dwells a godlike nature in thee,  Jaf: What?
Listen with mildness to my supplications.      Pier. A traitor?
Pier. What whining monk art thou? what   Jaf. Yes.
holy cheat,                            Pier. A villain?
That wouldst encroach upon my credulous ears,    Jaf Granted.
And cant'st thus vilely? Hence! I know thee not;   Pier. A coward, a most scandalous coward;
Leave, hypocrite!                           Spiritless, void of honour; one who has sold
Jaf. Not know me, Pierre?                  Thy everlasting fame, for shameless life?
Pier. No, I know thee not! What art thou 2    Jaf. All, all, and more, much more; my faults
Jaf. Jaffier, thy friend, thy once lov'd, valu'd   are numberless.
friend!                              Pier. And wouldst thou have me live on terms
Though now deservedly scorn'd, and used most         like thine?
hardly.                             Base, as thou art falsePier. Thou, Jaffier! thou, my once lov'd, valu-   Jaf. No;'tis to me that's granted;
ed friend!                  [friend, The safety of thy life was all I aim'd at,
By heavens, thou liest; the man so call'd, my In recompense for faith and trust so broken.
Was generous, honest, faithful, just, and valiant;   Pier. I scorn it more, because preserv'd by
Noble in mind, and in his person lovely;             thee;
Dear to my eyes, and tender to my heart:     And as, when first my foolish heart took pity
But thou, a wretched, base, false, worthless coward, On thy misfortunes, sought thee in thy miseries,




cad                         VVEN`I CE P RESERVED.                                [-AT Iv
Reliev'd thy wants, and rak'd thee from the state  He struck me, Belvidera! by Heaven, he struck
Of wretchedness, in which thy fate had plung'd          me!
thee,                                  Buffeted, call'd me traitor,, villain, coward.
To rank thee in my list of noble: friends,     Am I coward? Am I a villain?  Tell me:
All I receiv'd,: in surety for thy truth,.Thou'rt the best judge, and mad'st me, if I am so!
Were- unregarded oaths,: and this,: this dagger,    Damnation! Coward!
Given with a worthless pledge, thou since hast   Bel. Oh! forgive him, Jaffier;
stolen,-                              And, if his sufferings wound thy heart already,
So I restore it back to thee again;            What will they do to-morrow?
Swearing,. by all those powers: which thou hast   Jaf Ah!
violated,                               Bel. -To-morrow,                     [agonies
Never, from this curs'd hour, to hold communion, When thou shalt see him stretch'd in all the
Friendship, orinterest with thiee, though our years Of a tormenting and a shameful death;
Were to exceed those limited the world.        His bleeding bowels, and his broken limbs,
Take it-farewell-for now I owe thee nothing..  Insulted o'er, by a vile butchering villain;
Jaf. Say thou wilt live then.                What will thy heart do then'! Oh! sure'twill
Pier.. For my life, dispose it               Like my eyes now.                      [stream
Just as thou wilt, because'tis' what I'm tir'd with.   Jaf. What means thy dreadful story?
Jafr Oh, Pierre!                            Death, and to-morrow.! Broken limbs and bowels!
Pier. No more.                                 Bel. The faithless senators,'tis they've deJa,;f My eyes wont lose the sight of thee,            creed it:
But languish after thee, and ache with gazing.    They say, according to our friends' request,
Pier. -Leave me —Nay, then thus, thus I throw  They shall have death, and not ignoble bondage:
thee from me:                         Declare their promis'd mercy all. as. forfeited:
And curses, great as: is: thy fa!'.ehood, catch thee. False to their oaths, and deaf to intercession,
[Exit. Warrants are pass'd:for public death to-morrow.
Jaf: Amen.                                     Jaf. Death! doom'd to die! condemn'd unHe's gone, my father, frierd, preserver;                heard! unpleaded!
And here's -the portion he has left me:         Bel. Nay, cruel'st racks and torments are pre[Shows the dagger.           paring
This dagger. Well remember'd! with this dag- To force confession from their:dying pangs.
ger,                                  Oh! do not look so terribly upon me!
I gave a solemn vowj of dire importance;       How your lips shake, and all your face disorder'd!
Parted with this, and Belvidera together.      What means my love 2
Have a care, mem'ry, drive that: athought'no fur-   Jaf. Leave me, -I charge thee; leave me._
ther:                                          Strong temptations
No, 1'11 esteem it as-a friend's last legacy;  Wake in my heart.
Treasure it up Within this wretched bosom,       Bel. For what 2
Where it may grow acquainted with my heart,      Jaf  No more, but leave me.
That, when they meet, they start not from each    Bel. Why?
other..[lain,   Jqf. Oh! by Heaven, I love thee with that
So now for thinking-A blow call'd a traitor, vil-       fondness,
Coward, dishonourable:coward; fough!           I: would not have thee stay a moment longer
Oh! for a long sound sleep, and-so forget it.  Near these curs'd hands. Are they not cold upon
Down, busy devil!                                      thee?
[Pulls the dagger half out of his bosom
Enter BELVIDERA.                            and puts it back again.
Bel.~ Whither shall I fly?                    Bel. No, everlasting comfort's in thy arms.
Where hide me and my miseries together 2       To lean thus on thy breast, is softer ease
Where.'s now the Roman constancy I boasted?.  Than downy pillows, deck'd with leaves of roses
Sunk into trembling fears and desperation,       Jafr Alas! thou think'st not of the thorns'tis
Not daring to look up to that dear face                 fill'd with:                 [: pent,
Which used to smile, even on my faults:; but, Fly,.ere they gall thee.;. There's a lurking serdown,                                 Ready to leap and sting thee to the heart:
Bending these miserable eyes on earth,         Art thou not terrified?
Must move in penance, and implore much mercy.   Bel. No.
Jaf. Mercy! kind Heaven has, surely endless   Jarf Call to mind,.  -stores,                              What thou hast done, and whither thou hast
Hoarded: for thee,' of blessings -yet untasted:         brought me.
Oh, Belvidera!-I'm: the -wretched'st creature   Bel. Hah!
E'er-crawl'd onearth.                            Jaf. Where's my friend? my friend, thou
My friend, too, Belvidera,.that dear friend,;smiling mischief!
Who, next to thee, was all my'health rejoic'd in, Nay, shrink not, now'tis too late; thou shouldst
Has us'd me like a slave, shamefully us'd me;           have fled
Twould break thy pitying -heart to hear-the story. When thy guilt first had cause; for dire revenge
Bel. What has- he done?                     Is up,'and raging for my friend.  He groans!
Jaf. Before. we parted,                      Hark, how he groans! his screams are in my ears
Ere yet his guards:had led:him to his prison,  Already: see, they've fixd him on the wheel,
Full of severest sorrows for his. sufferings,  And now  they tear him.-Murder! Perjur'd
With eyes o'erflowing, and a bleeding hea"*'senate!
As at his feet. I kneel'd, and sued- for mercy,  Murder.-Oh!-Hark thee, traitress, thou hast
With a reproachful hand he dash'd-:a blow:..    -  one this!




scE  HII.]:V~ENI:C GE NICiPER;ES E R VED.                           263
Thanks to thy tears, and false persuading love.   And want your pitying hand to raise me up again
How her eyes speak! Oh, thou bewitching crea-   Pri. What wouldst thou beg for'.
ture!     [Fumbling'for his dagger.   Bel. Pity and forgiveness.
Madness can't hurt thee.'Come, thou little trem-                        Throws up her vei,
bler,                                By the kind, tender names of child and father,
Creep even into my heart, and there lie safe:  Hear my complaints, and take me to your love.'Tis thy own citadel.-Hah-yet stand off.        Pri. My daughter!
Heaven must have justice, and my broken-vows    Bel. Yes, your daughter.
Will sink me else beneath its reaching mercy.   Pri. Don't talk thus.
I'll wink, and then'tis done-                  Bel. Yes, I must; and you must hear too.
Bet. What means the lord                    I have a husband.
Of me, my life, and love? What's in thy bosom,   Pri. Damn him.
Thou grasp'st at so 1 Nay, why am I thus treat-   Bel. Oh! do not curse him;
ed?                                   He would not speak so hard a word towards yot
[Draws the dagger and offers to stab her. On any terms, howe'er he deals with me.
Jaf. Know, Belvidera, when we parted last,    Pri. Ha! what means my child?
I gave this dagger with thee, as in trust,      Bel. Oh! my husband, my dear husband,
To be thy portion if I e'er prov'd false.     Carries a dagger in his once kind bosom,
On such condition-was my truth believ'd:      To pierce the heart of your poor Belvidera.
But now'tis forfeited, and must be paid for.   Pri. Kill thee!
[Offers to stab her again.   Bel. Yes, kill me. When he pass'd his faith
Bel. Oh! Mercy!              - [Kneeling. And covenant against your state and senate,
Jaf. Nay, no struggling.                    He gave me up a hostage for his truth:
Bel. Now then, kill me.                     With me a dagger and a dire commission.
[Leaps on his neck, kisses him. Whene'er he fail'd, to plunge it through this
Jaf:. 1 am. I am a coward; witness, Heaven,          bosom.
Witness it, earth, and every being, witness:  I learnt the danger, chose the hour of love'Tis but one blow! yet, by immortal love,     T' attempt his heart, and bring it back to honour.
I cannot longer bear a thought to harm thee.  Great love prevail'd, and bless'd me with success!
-[He throws away the dagger and embraces her. He came, confess'd, betray'd his dearest friends
The seal of Providence is sure upon thee:     For promis'd mercy. Now  they're doom'd to
And thou wert born for yet unheard-of wonders.         suffer.
Oh! thou wert either born to save or damn me.   Gall'd with remembrance of what then was sworn,
By all the power that's given me o'er thy soul,   If they are lost, he vows t' appease the gods
By thy resistless tears and conquering smriles,'   With this poor life, and make my blood th' atoneBy the victorious love that still waits on thee,       ment.
Fly to thy cruel father, save my friend,        Pri. Heavens!
-Or all our future quiet's lost for ever.        Bel. If I was ever then your care, now hear
Fall at his feet, cling round his reverend knees,      me;
Speak to him with thy eyes, and with thy tears,'Fly to the senate, save the promis'd lives
Melt his hard heart, and wake dead nature in  Of his dear friends, ere mine be made the sacrifice.
him,                          [ness;   Pri. Oh, my heart's comfort!
Crush him in thy arms, torture him with thy soft-   Bel. Will you not, my father?
Nor, till thy prayers are granted, set him free,    Weep not, but answer me.
But conquer him, as thou hast conquer'd me.     Pri. By Heaven I will.
[Exeunt. Not one of them but what shall be immortal.
ACanst thou forgive me all my follies past 2
I'll henceforth be indeed a father; never,
SCEINE I.-An Apartment in PRIULI'S House. Never more thus expose, but cherish thee,
Dear as the vital warmth that feeds my life,
Enter PRIULI.            Dear as these eyes that weep in fondness o'er thee.,Pri. Why, cruel Heaven, have my unhappy' Peace to thy heart.  Farewell.
days                                    Bel.'Go, and remember
Been lengthen'd to this sad one? Oh! dishonour'Tis Belvidera's life: her father pleads for.
And deathless infamy is fallen upon me.                                           [Exeunt.
Was it my fault? Am I a traitor? No.                   SCENE II.-A Garden.
But then, my only child, my daughter wedded;
There my -best blood runs foul, and a disease               -Enter JAFFIER.
Incurable has seiz'd upon- my memory.           Jaf: Final destruction seize on all the world!
Enter BELVIDERA, in a long mourning veil.   Bend down, ye Heavens, and shutting round this
earth,
Bel. He's there, my -father, my inhuman fa-: Crush the' vile globe into its first confusion!
ther,
That for three years has left an only child
Expos'd to all the outrages of fate,            Bel. My life  [Meeting hiLm.
And cruel ruin. -oh!-                          Jaf. My plague          [ Turning from her.
Pri. What child of sorrow                     Bel. Nay, then I see my ruin.
Art thou, that comes wrapt in weeds of sadness,  If I must die!
And mov'st:as ifthy steps were tow'rds a grave?   Jaf. Nor let the thoughts of -death perplex thw
Bel. A wretch who from the very top of happi-       fancy
ness                                  But answer me to what I shall demand,
Am fallen into the lowest depths of misery,   With a firm temper and unshaken' spirit




264                        VENICE PRESERVED.                                   [ACT V
Bel. I will, when I've done weeping-       Before he died, and take his last forgiveness.
Jaf. Fie, no more on't-                    Farewell, for ever.
How long is't since that miserable day         Bel. Leave thy dagger with me,
We wedded first?                            Bequeath me something-Not one kiss at parting s
Bel. Oh!-oh!-                            Oh! my poor heart, when wilt thou break?
Jaf. Nay, keep in thy tears,                               [Going out, looks back at him.
Lest they unman me too.                        Jaf. Yet stay:
Bel. Heaven knows I cannot                 We have a child, as yet a tender infant.
The words you utter sound so very sadly,     Be a kind mother to him when I'm gone:
The streams will follow-                     Breed him in virtue, and the paths of honour,
Jaf. Come, I'll kiss'em dry then.         But never let him know his father's story;
Bel. But was't a miserable day?           I charge thee, guard him from the wrongs my
Jaf. A curs'd one.                                 fate
Bel. I thought it otherwise; and you've often May do his future fortune, or his name.
sworn,                              Now-nearer yet-   [Approaching each other.
In the transporting hours of warmest love,   Oh! that my arms were rivetted
When sure you spoke the truth, you've sworn Thus round thee ever! But my friend! my oath!
you bless'd it.                     This and no more.                [Kisses her.
Jaf.'Twas.a rash oath.                     Bel. Another, sure another,
Bel. Then why am I not curs'd too?       For that poor little one you've ta'en such care of.
Jaf No, Belvidera; by th' eternal truth,  I'll give't him truly.
I dote with too much fondness.                Jaf. So now, farewell.
Bel. Still so kind?                         Bel. For ever?.
Still then do you love me?                   Jaf. Heaven knows, for ever; all good angels
Jaf. Man ne'er was bless'd                         guard thee.                  [Exit.
Since the first pair met, as I have been.      Bel. All ill ones sure had charge of me this
Bel. Then sure you will not curse me?              moment.
Jaf. No, I'll bless thee.                 Curs'd be my days, and doubly curs'd my nights.
I came on purpose, Belvidera, to bless thee.  Oh! give me daggers, fire, or water:'Tis now, I think, three years, we've liv'd to- How I could bleed, how burn, how drown, the
gether.                                      waves
Bel. And may no fatal minute ever part us,   Huzzing and booming round my sinking head,
Till, reverend grown for age and love, we go  Till I descended to the peaceful bottom! 
Down to one grave, as our last bed, together;  Oh! there's all quiet, here all rage and fury:
There sleep in peace, till an eternal morning.    The air's too thin, and pierces my weak brain;
Jaf: Did I not say, I came to bless thee?  I long for thick, substantial sleep; hell! hell!
Bel. You did.                             Burst from the centre, rage and roar aloud,
Jaf: Then hear me, bounteous Heaven:       If thou art half so hot, so mad, as I am.  [Exit.
Pour down your blessings on this beauteous head,
Where everlasting sweets are always springing   SCENE III.-A  Scaffold, and a Wtheel preWith a continual giving hand: let peace,          pared for the execution of PIERRE.
Honour, and safety, always hover round her;
Feed her with plenty; let her eyes ne'er see   Ent        er OFFICER, PIERRE, Guards, Eecu
A sight of sorrow, nor her heart know mourning:
Crown all her days with joy, her nights with rest,   Pier. My friend not come yet?
Harmless as her own thoughts; and prop her 
Enter JAFFIER.
virtue,
To bear the loss of one that too much lov'd;  Jaf. Oh, Pierre!
And comfort her with patience in our parting.  Pier. Yet nearer.
Bel. How! Parting, parting!             Dear to my arms, though thou'st undone my fame,
Jaf. Yes, for ever parting;               I can't forget to love thee. Pr'ythee, Jaffier,
I have sworn, Belvidera, by yon Heaven,     Forgive that filthy blow my passion dealt thee;
That best can tell how much I lose to leave thee, I'm now preparing for the land of peace,
We part this hour for ever.                 And fain would have the charitable wishes
Bel. O! call back                        Of all good men, like thee, to bless my journey.
Your cruel blessing; stay with me and curse me.   Jaf. Good! I am the vilest creature, worse then
Jaf. Now hold, heart, or never.                    e'er
Bel. By all the tender days we've liv'd together,: Suffer'd the shameful fate thou'rt going to taste of.
Pity my sad condition; speak, but speak.       Off/. The time grows short, your friends are
Jaf. Oh!-oh!-                                      dead already.
Bel. By these arms, that now cling round thy   Jaf. Dead!
neck,                                 Pier. Yes, dead, Jaffier; they've all died like
By these poor streaming eyes-                        men too,
Jaf. Murder! unhold me:                    Worthy their character.
By th' immortal destiny that doom'd me         Jaf. And what must I do?
[Draws the dagger.   Pier. Oh, Jaffier!'Io this curs'd minute, I'll not live one longer;  Jaf. Speak aloud thy burden'd soul,
Resolve to let me go, or see me fall-        And tell thy troubles to thy tortur'd friend.
Hark, the dismal bell     [Passing-bell tolls.   Pier. Friend! Couldst thou yet be a friend, a
Tolls out for death! I must attend its call too;     generous friend,
For my poor friend, my dying Pierre, expects me: I might hope comfort from thy noble sorrows.
Ile sent a message to require I'd see him    Heaven knows I want a friend.




SCENE III.]                  VENICE PRESERVED.                                    265
Jaf. And I a kind one,                     And this is well.             [Stabs himself
That would not thus scorn my repenting virtue,    Pier. Now thou hast indeed bedn faithful.
Or think, when he's to die, my thoughts are idle. This was dope nobly-We've deceiv'd the senate.
Pier. No! live, I charge thee, Jaffier.      Jaf: Bravely.
Jqf. Yes, I will live:                       Pier. Ha, ha, ha- oh! oh!           [Dies.
But it shall be to see thy fall reveng'd       Jaf. Now, ye curs'd rulers,
At such a rate, as Venice long shall groan for.   Thus of the blood y' have shed, I make libation
Pier. Wilt thou?                         And sprinkle it, mingling. May it rest upon you,
Jaf. I will, by Heaven.                    And all your race! Be henceforth peace a stranPier. Then still thou'rt noble,                    ger
And I forgive thee. Oh! —yet-shall I trust thee?: Within your walls; let plagues and famine waste
Jaf. No; I've been false already.          Your generation-Oh, poor Belvidera!
Pier. Dost thou love me?                  Sir, I have a wife, bear this in safety to her;
Jaf. Rip up my heart, and satisfy my doubt- A token that with my dying breath I bless'd her,
ings.                               And the dear little infant left behind me.
Pier. Curse on this weakness!     [Weeps. I'm sick-I'm quiet.
Jaf. Tears! Amazement! Tears!                           [Dies; scene shuts upon then.
I never saw thee melted thus before;
And know there's something labouring in thy    SCENE IV.-An Apartment at PRIULI'S.
bosom,
That must have vent: though I'm a villain, tell Soft music; enter BELVIDERA, distracted, led by
me.                                    twoof herwomen; PRULI and Servarnts.
Pier. See'st thou that engine?              Pri. Strengthen her heart with patience, pity[Points to the Wheel.       ing Heaven.
Jaf. Why?                                   Bel. Come, come, come, come, come, nay come
Pier. Is't fit a soldier, who has liv'd with ho-   to bed.                    [whistle;
nour,                               Pr'ythee, my love. The winds! hark how they
Fought nations' quarrels, and been crown'd with And the rain beats: Oh! how the weather shrinks
conquest,                                    me!
Be expos'd a common carcass on a wheel?     You are angry now, who cares? pish, no indeed,
Jaf. Ha!                                  Choose then; I say you shall not go, you shall
Pier. Speak! is't fittingS                         not;
Jaf. Fitting!                             Whip your ill nature; get you gone then. Oh!
Pier. Yes; is't fittingS?                  Are you return'd; see, father, here he's come
Jaf. What's to be done  again:
Pier. I'd have thee undertake              Am I to blame to love him? 0, thou dear one,
Something that's noble to preserve my memory   Why do you fly me? are you angry still then 1
From the disgrace that's ready to attaint it.  Jaffier, where art thou  father, why do you do
Of i. The day grows late, Sir.                    thus?                    [somewhere.
Pier. I'll make haste. Oh, Jaffier!        Stand off, don't hide him from me. He's here
Though thou'st betray'd me, do me some way Stand off, I say: what, gone! remember't, tyrant:
justice.                             I may revenge myself of this trick, one day.
Jaf. No more of that: thy wishes shall be I'll do't- I'll do't.
satisfied;
I have a wife, and she shall bleed; my child too,          Enter OFFICER.
field up his little throat and all            Pri. News, what news? 
T' appease thee-                                               [OFFICER whispers PRIULI.
[Going away, PIERRE holds him.   Oj/. Most sad, Sir;
Pier. No-this-no more.                    Jaffier, upon the scaffold, to prevent
[Whispers JAFFIER. A shamefqt death, stabb'd Pierre, and next himJaf. Ha  is't then so?                    Both fell together.                    [self_Pier. Most certainly.                       Pri. Daughter!
Jaf. I'll do it.                            Bel. Ha! look there!
Pier. Remember!                           My husband bloody, and his friend too! murder!
O/fi. Sir.                                Who has done this? speak to me, thou sad vision -
Pier. Come, now I'm ready.,                On these poor trembling knees I beg it. Va[He 4 JAF. ascend the scaffold.      nish'dCaptain, you should be a gentleman of honour;   Here they went down-Oh, I'll dig, dig the den
Keep off the rabble, that I may have room            up!
To entertain my fate, and die with decency.  You sha'n't delude me thus. Hoa, Jaffier, Jaffier!
Come. [ Takes off his gown, Ececutioner pre- Peep up, and give me but a look. I have him!
pares.                              I've got him, father: Oh!
You'll think on't.             [To JAFFIER. My love! my dear! my blessing! help me! help
Jaf.'Twon't grow stale before to-morrow.          me!
Pier. Now, Jaffier! now I'm going. Now-    They have hold on me, and drag me to the bot[Executioner having bound him.         tom.
Jaf. Have at thee,                         Nay-now they pull so hard —farewellThou honest heart, then-here-   [Stabs him.         [Dies; the curtain folls slowly to m.usic
VoL. I....2 L      23




THE WONDER:
-A. O M E. D Y,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY MRS. CENTLI V R E.
REMARKS.
THIS ingenious comedy was first acted at Drury Lane in 1714, and is still a favourite. A more lively delinea.
tion of jealousy is scarcely to be found on the stage than in the well-drawn character of Don Felix, whose love.
quarrel with Violante is well sustained. Inl 1757, Mr. Garrick added to his reputation by the revival of this a!ay,
in which he was eminently successful as Don Felix; and in this character closed his career of histriollic gloryon
the 10th June, 1776, on which interesting occasion he delivered a farewell, in language with which we shall embellish the present page.
"Ladies and Gentlemen,
" It has been customary with persons, under my circumstances, to address you in a farewell Epilogue. I had the same intention, and
turned my thoughts that way; but I found myself then as incapable of writing such an Epilogue, as I should be now of speaking it.
" The jingle of rhyme, and the language of fiction, would but ill suit my present feelings.
" This is to me a very awful moment: it is no less than parting for ever with those, from whom I have received the greatest kindness, and upon the
spot where that kindness and your favours were enjoyed.
"Whatever may be the changes of my future life, the deepest impression of your kindness will always remain here-here in my heart, fixed and
unalterable.
" I will very readily agree to my successors having more skill and ability for their station than I have had: but I defy them all to take more uninter.
rupted pains for your favour, or to be more truly sensible of it, than is your grateful humble servant."
Mrs. Yates, Mrs. Crawford, Mrs. Abington, Mrs. Pope, and Mrs. Jordan, " though last, not least," have succes.
sively added to their celebrity, in the heroine.
The original hint of the Wonder was probably derived from some one of the old Spanish Romantic Novels, sc
much admired by the ladies at that period.
EDRAMATIS PERSONAE.
DRURY LANE, 1815.                     COVENT GARDEN, 1817.
DON LOPEZ,...........M....r. Penley................... Mr. Blanchard.
DON FELIX,...........              Mr. Rae..................   M7r. C. Kemble.
FREDERIC,........... Mr. Barnard..........  Mr. Claremont.
DON PEDRO......................Mr. Gattie..................M. Simmons.
COLONEL BRITON..........           M. MHolland....................Mr. Abbot.
GIBBY,...........                   Mr. R. Palmer.................... Ar. Emery.
LISSARDO,...........Mr. Harley....Mr. Fawcett.
ALGUAZIL,......M.....             r. Maddocks.................Mr. Atkins.
VASQUEZ....                         Mr. Evans.
SOLDIER.......... Mr. Cooke.
DONNA VIOLANTE,...........         Mrs. Glover.                        Miss Brunton.
DONNA ISABELLA...............Mrs. Orger.....................iss Foote.
FLORA,........          Miss Kelly.....               Mrs. Gibbs.
INIS.........................Mrs. Scott.                              Miss Logan.
Attendants, Servants, &c.
SCENE.-Lisbon.
ACT  I.                           see you look so well, my lord; I hope Antonlo 
out of danger?
SCENE  I.-A Street,                         Lop. Quite the contrary; his fever increases,
-   Enrter DON LOPEZ, meedti~~ng 3FREDERIC.        they tell me; and the surgeons are of opinion his
wound is mortal.
Fred. My lord, Don Lopez.                               Fred. Your son, Don Felix, is safe, I hope?
Lop. How d'ye, Frederic?                               Lop. I hope so too; but they offer large rewards
Fred. At your lordship's service.  1 am glad to  to apprehend him.
2;66




SCENE I.J                       T H:E WONDER.                                       267
Fred. When heard your lordship from him?    Fred. Monstrous! These are the eresolutions
Lop. Not since he went. I forbade him writ- which destroy the comforts of matrimony-he is
ing till the public news gave him an- account of rich and well-born, powerful -arguments indeed!
Antonio's health. Letters might be intercepted,: Could I but add them to the friendship of Don
and the place of his abode discovered; however, if Felix, what might I not hope:But a merchant
Antonio dies, Felix shall for England. You have: and a grandee of Portugalare inconsistent names —
been there;  what sort of people are the English?
Fred.  My lord, the English are by nature,       Enter LISARDO, in a riding-habit.
what the ancient Romans were by discipline, cou-; Lissardo! From whence came you?
rageous, bold, hardy, and in love with liberty. Li-   Lis. That letter will inform you, Sir.
erty is the idol of the English, under whose ban-   Fred. I hope your master's safe?
ner all the nation enlists; give but the word for   Lis. I left him so; I have another to deliver
liberty, and straight more armed legions would which requires haste.-Your most humble servant,
appear, than France and Philip keep in constant Sir.                             [Bowing.
pay.                                            Fred. To Violante, I suppose?
Lop. I like their principles. Who does not   Lis. The same.                       [Exit.
wish for freedom in all degrees of lifer? though    Fred. [Reads.] Dear Frederic- The two chief
common prudence sometimes makes us act against blessings of this life are, afriend and a mistress;
it, as I am now obliged to do; for I intend to mar-: to be debarred the sight of those is not to live. i
ry my daughter to Don Guzman, whom I expect hear nothing of Antonio's death, and therefore
from Holland every day, whither he went to take resolve to venture:to thy house this evening, impossession of a large estate left him by his uncle. patient to see >iolante, and embrace my friend.
Fred. You will not, surely, sacrifice the'lovely  Yours,                         FELIX.
Isabella, to age, avarice, and a fool 2 pardon the, Pray Heaven he comes undiscovered.-Ha! coloexpression, my lord; butmy concern foryour beau- nel Briton.
teous (laughter transports me beyond that good:
manners which I ought to pay your lordship's'pre-     COLONEL BRITON, i n a ricne-lts t.
sence.                                          Col. B. Frederic, I rejoice:to see thee.
Lop. I can't deny the just-less'of the character,   Fred. What brought you to Lisbon, colonel?
Frederic; but you are not insensible whatI: have   Col. B. Lafortune de la guerre, as the French
suffered by these wars: and bhe has two-things say.: I have commanded these last three years in
which render him very agreeable-to me for a son- Spain, but my country has thought fit to strike up
in-law; he is rich, and well-born! as for his being a peace, and give us good Protestants leave to hope
a fool, I don't conceive how that can be any blot for-Christian burial; so I resolved to take Lisbon
in a husband who is already possessed of a good in my way home.
estate.-A poor fool, indeed, is a very scandalous   Fred. If you are not provided of a lodging, colothing; and so are your poor mwits in my opinion, nel, pray command my house,while you stay.
who have nothing to be vain of but the inside of  Col. B. If I were sure I should not be troubletheir skulls. Now, for Don.Guzman, I know I some,' I would accept your offer, Frederic.
can rule him as I think fit: this is acting the po-   Fred. So far from trouble, colonel, I shall take
litic part, Frederic, without which it is impossible' it as a particular favour. What have we here?
to keep up the port of this life.               Col. B. My footman. This is our country
Fred. But have you no consideration for your dress, you must know; which, for the honour of
daughter's welfare, my lord 2                 Scotland, I make all my servants wear.
Lop. Is a husband of twenty thousand crowns       Enter GIBBY, in a Highland dress.
a year no consideration? Now I think it a very
good consideration.                             Gibby. What mun 1 de wi' the horses, and like
Fred. One way, my lord. But what will the yer honour  They will tack cauld gin they stand
world say of such a match?                    n the causey.
Lop. Sir, I value not the world a button.    Fred. Oh, ll take care of them. What, hoa!
Fred. I -cannot think your daughter can have Vasquez!
any inclination for such a husband.
Lop.'There 1 believe'you:are' pretty much in
the right, though' it is a secret -which I never had  Put those horses, which that honest fellow will
the curiosity to inquire into, nor I believe ever show you, into my stable, do you hear, and feed
shall.-Inclination,;quotha! Parents would have them well.
a- fine time on1t if they consulted- their children's   Vas. Yes, Sir.-Sir, by my master's orders,
inclinations! No, no, Sir,:it is not a father's busi- I am, Sir, your most obsequious, humble servant.
ness to follow his children's:inclinations, till he Be pleased to lead the way.
makes himself a beggar.                        - Gibby.'Sbleed, gang yer gate, Sir, and I sall
- FPred.:But this is: of another nature, my lord.  follow ye: Ise ower hungry to feed on compliments.
Lop.: Lookye, Sir, I resolve she shall marry: [Ex  it wit VA-saQEz.
Don Guzman the moment he:arrives; -though I   lFered. Ha, ha! a comical fellow. -Well, how
could not govern my son, I will' my daughter, I do you like our country, colonel 
assure you.:'Col B: Why, faith, Frederic, a man might pass:Fred:. This match, my'lord:, is more preposter- his time agreeably enough withinside of a nunneous than that which you proposed to your son, ry: but to behold such troops of soft, plump, tenfrom whence arose this-fatal quarrel.-Don Anto- der, melting, wishing, nay, willing girls too,
nio's'sister, Elvira,; wanted beauty onlyi but Guz- through a damned grate, gives us Britons strong
man: every thing, but-                       temptations to plunder.  Ah, Frederic, ydur
Lop. Money-and that will pArchase every priests are wicked rogues; they immure beauty for
thing; and so adieu.               -:[Exit. their own proper use, and show it only to the laity




268                               1HE WONDER.                                    [ACT I.
to create desires, and inflame accompts, that they but to be forced into the arms of an idiot, who has
may purchase pardons at a dear rate.         neither person to please the eye, sense to charm
Fred. I own wenching is something more dif- the ear, nor generosity to supply those defects!ficult here than in England, where women's liber- Ah, Inis, what pleasant lives women lead in Engties are subservient to their inclinations, and hus- land, where duty wears no fetter but inclination.
bands seem of no effect, but to take care of the The custom of our country enslaves from our very
children which their wives provide.          cradles, first to our parents, next to our husbands;
Col. B. And does restraint get the better of in- and, when Heaven is so kind to rid us of both
clination with your women here?  No, I'll be these, our brothers still usurp authority, and exsworn not, even in fourscore. Don't I know the pect a blind obedience from us: so that, maids,
constitution of the Spanish ladies?          wives, or widows, we are little better than slaves
Fred. And of all the ladies where you come, to the tyrant, man; therefore to avoid their power,
colonel; you were ever a man of gallantry.    I resolve to cast myself into a monastery.
Col. B. Ah, Frederic, the kirk half starves us   Inis. That is, you'll cut your own throat, to
Scotsmen. We are kept so sharp at home, that avoid another's doing it for you. Ah, Madam,
we feed like cannibals abroad. Harkye, hast thou those eyes tell me you have no nun's flesh about
never a pretty acquaintance now,that thou wouldst you! A monastery, quotha! where you'll wish
consign over to a friend for         ha?     yourself into the green sickness in a month.
Fred. Faith, colonel, I am the worst pimp in   Isa. What care I? there will be no man to
Christendom; you had better trust to your own plague me.
luck; the women will soon find you out I warrant   Inis. No, nor what's much worse, to please you
you.                                         neither-Odslife, Madam, you are the first woman
Col. B. Ay, but its dangerous foraging in an that e'er despaired in a Christian country: were I
enemy's country; and since I have some hopes of in your placeseeing my own again, I had rather purchase my   Isa. Whv, what would your wisdom do, if you
pleasure, than run the hazard of a stiletto in my were?
guts. Wilt thou recommend me to a wife then;   Inis. I'd embark with the first fair wind with
one that is willing to exchange her moidores for all my jewels, and seek my fortune on t'other side
English liberty? ha, friend 1                the water; no shore can treat you worse than your
Fred. She must be very handsome, I suppose? own; there's never a father in Christendom should
Col. B. The handsomer the better-but be make me marry any man against my will.
sure she has a nose.                            Isa. I am too great a coward to follow your adFred. Ay, ay, and some gold.               vice: I must contrive some way to avoid Don GuzCol. B. Oh, very much gold; I shall never be man, and yet stay in my own country.
able to swallow the matrimonial pill, if it be not
well gilded.                                               Enter DON LOPEZ.
Fred. Pho, beauty will make it slide down
nimbly.                                         Lop. Must you so, mistress; but I shall take
Col. B. At first, perhaps, it may; but the se- care to prevent you. [Aside.] Isabella, whither
cond or third dose will choke me. —I confess, are you going, my child?
Frederic, women are the prettiest play-things in   Isa. To church, Sir.
nature; but gold, substantial gold, gives'em the   Inis. The old rogue has certainly overheard
air, the mien, the shape, the grace, and beauty of her.                            [Aside.
a goddess.                                      Lop. Your devotion must needs be very strong,
Fred. And has not gold the same divinity in or your memory very weak, my dear; why, vestheir eyes, colonel?                         pers are over for this night. Come, come, you
Col. B. Too often-                         shall have a better errand to church than to say
None marry now for love; no, that's a jest:  your prayers there. Don Guzman is arrived in
The selfsame bargain serves for wife and beast.  the river, and I expect him ashore to-morrow.
F'red. You are always gay, colonel. Come, shall  Isa. Ha! to-morrow!
we take a refreshing glass at my house, and con-   Lop. He writes me word, that his estate in
sider what has been said?                   Holland is worth twelve thousand crowns a year;
Col. B. I have two or three compliments to dis- which, together with what he had before, will
charge for some friends, and then I will wait on make thee the happiest wife in Lisbon.
you with pleasure. Where do you live?          Isa. And the most unhappy woman in the
Fred. At yon corner house with the green rails. world. Oh, Sir! if I have any power in your
Col. B. In the close of the evening I will en- heart, if the tenderness of a father be not quite exdeavour to kiss your hand. Adieu.            tinct,.hear me with patience.'red. I shall expect you with impatience.    Lop. No objection against the marriage, and 1
[Ex.eunt. will hear whatsoever thou hast to say.
Isa. That's torturing me on the rack, and forSCE.NVE I. —A Room in DON LOPEZ'S House. bidding me to groan; upon my knees, I claim the
privilege of flesh and blood.       [Kneels.
Enter ISABELTLA, and ANIS, he?: maid.     Lop. I grant it, thou shalt have an arm full of
Inis. For goodness' sake, Madam, where are flesh and blood to-morrow. Flesh and blood,
vou going in this pet?                       quotha! Heaven forbid I should deny thee flesh
Isa. Any where to avoid matrimony; the thought and blood, my girl.
of a husband is terrible to me.                 Inis. Here's an old dog for you!   [Aside.
Inis. Ay, of an old husband; but if you may   Isa. Do not mistake, Sir; the fatal stroke which
choose for yourself, I fancy matrimony would be separates soul and body, is not more terrible to
no such frightful thing to you.              the thoughts of sinners, than the name of Guzisa. You are pretty much in the right, Inis  man to my ear.




SCENE I.1                       T>H E  W  O N D E R.                               269
Lop. Puh, puh; you lie, you lie.               My all that's charming, since life's not lif'e
Isa. My frighted heart beats hard against my exil'dfrom thee, this night shall bring me to thy
breast, as if it sought a passage to your feet, to beg arms.  Frederic and thee are all Itrust. These
you'd change your purpose.                   six weeks' absence, have been, in love's accompt,
Lop. A very pretty speech this; if it were turn- six hundred hours.  When it is dark, expect the
ed into blank verse, it would serve for a tragedy. wonted signal at thy window; till when, adieu.
Why, thou hast more wit than I thought thou  Thine more than his own,             FELIx.
hadst, child. —I fancy this was all extempore; I   Flora. Who would not have said as much to a
don't believe thou didst ever think one word on't lady of her beauty, and twenty thousand pounds?
before.                                      [Aside.]-Were I a man, methinks, I could have
Inis. Yes, but she has, my lord; for I have said a hundred finer things.
heard her say the same things a thousand times.    Vio. What would you have said?
Lop. How, how? What, do you top your se-   Flora. I would have compared your eyes to
cond-hand jests upon your father, hussy, who the stars, your teeth to ivory, your lips to coral,
knows better what's good for you than you do your neck to alabaster, your shape toyourself? Remember,'tis your duty to obey.    Vio. No more of your bombast; truth is the
Isa. [Rises.] I never disobeyed before, and wish  best eloquence in a lover.-What proof remains
I had not reason now; but nature has got the bet- ungiven of his love?  When his father threatenter of my duty, and makes me loathe the harsh ed to disinherit him for refusing Don Antonio's
commands you lay.                            sister, from whence sprung this unhappy quarrel,
Lop. Ha, ha! very fine! iHa, ha!          did it shake his love for me? And now, though
Isa. Death itself would be welcome.        strict inquiry runs through every place, with large
Lop. Are you sure of that?                 rewards to apprehend him. does he not venture
isa. I am your daughter, my lord, and can boast all for me?
as strong a resolution as yourself; I'll die before   Flora. But you know, Madam, your father,
I'll marry Guzman.                           Don Pedro, designs you for a nun-to be sure,
Lop. Say you so? I'll try that presently. you'look very like a nun!-and says your grand[Draws.]  Here, let me see with what dexterity father left you your fortune upon that condition.
you can breathe a vein now. [Offers her his   Vio. Not without my approbation, girl, when
sword.] The point is pretty sharp:'twill do your I come to one-and-twenty, as I am informed. But,
business, I warrant you.                     however, 1 shall run the risk of that. Go, call
Inis. Bless me, Sir, what do you mean, to put in Lissardo.
a sword into the hands of a desperate woman?   Flora. Yes, Madam. Now  for a thousand
Lop. Desperate! ha, ha, ha! you see how des- verbal questions.         [Aside, and eait.
perate she is. What, art thou frighted, little Bell?  Re-enter F A, with L
ha i',                  Re-enter FLORA, with LISSARDO.
Isa. I confess I am startled at your morals, Sir.   Vio. Well, and how do you do, Lissardo?
Lop. Ay, ay, child, thou hadst better take the   Lis. Ah, very weary, Madam.-Faith, thou
man, he'll hurt thee the least of the two.  look'st wondrous pretty, Flora. [Apartto FLORA.
Isa. I shall take neither, Sir; death has many    Vio. How came you?
doors, and when I canlive no longer with pleasure,   Lis. En chevalier, Madam, upon a hackney
I shall find one to let him in at without your aid. jade, which they told me formerly belonged to ai
Lop. Say'st thou so, my dear Bell? Ods, I'm  English colonel. But I should have rather thought
afraid thou art a little lunatic, Bell. I must take she had been bred a good Roman Catholic all her
careof thee, child. [Takeshold of her, andpulls life-time; for she downed on her knees to every
a key out of his pocket.]  I shall make bold to se- stock and stone we came along by.-My chops
cure thee, my dear. I'll see if locks and bars can water for a kiss, they do, Flora. [Apart to FILORA.
keep thee till Guzman comes. Go, get into your   Flora. You'd make one believe you are wonchamber.                       [Locks her in. drous fond now.         [Apart to LISSARDO.
There I'll your boasted resolution try,      Vio. Where did you leave your master?
And see who'll get the better, you or I.     Lis. Odd, if I had you alone, housewife, i'd
[Exeunt. show you how fond I could be-[Apart to FLORA.
Vio. Where did you leave your master?
ACT II.                      Lis. At a little farm-house, Madam, about five
-SCENE I.-A Room in DON  PEDRO'S House.  miles off. He'll be at Don Frederic's in the evenintg.-Odd, I will so revenge myself of those lips
Enter VIOLANTE, reading a letter, and FLORA  ofthine.                    [Apart to FLORA.
following.                    Vio. Is he in health?
Flora. Oh, you counterfeit wondrous well.
Flora. What, must that letter be read again?                       [Apart to LiSSARDO.
Vio. Yes, and again, and again, and again, a   Lis. No, every body knows I counterfeit very ill.
thousand times again; a letter from a faithful lover                     [Apart to FLORA.
can never be read too often, it speaks such kind,   Vio. How say you? Is' Felix ill? What's
such soft, such tender things-    [Kisses it. his distemper? Ha!
Flora. But always the same language.         Lis. A  pies on't, I hate to be interrupted,
Vio. Ilt does not charm the less for that.  [Aside.]-Love, Madam, love.-In short, Madam,
Flora. In my opinion, nothing charms that does I believe he has thought of nothing but your ladynot change; and any composition of the four-and- ship ever since he left Lisbon. I am sure he could
twenty letters, after the first essay, from the same not, if I may judge of his heart by my own.
hand, must be dull, except a bank-note or a bill              [Looks lovingly upon FLoRA.
i exchange.                                    Vio. How came you so well acquainted with
Vio. Thy taste is my aversion-[Reads.     your master's thoughts, Lissardo?
23*




270                            THE WONDER.                                        [ACT 11.
Lis. By infallible rule, Madam; words are the    Flora. Madam, good lack! How much a dia
pictures of the mind, you know; now to prove he mond ring improves one!
thinks of nothing but you, he talks of nothing but   Lis. Why, though I say it-I can carry myself
you-for example, Madam: coming:from shoot- as well as any body.-But what wert thou going
ing t'other day with a brace of partridges, " Lis- to say, child.
sardo," said he, "go bid the cook roast me these   Flora. Why I was going to say, that I fancy
Violantes."-I flew into'the kitchen, full of you had best let me keep that ring; it will be a
thoughts of thee, and cried, "Here roast me these very pretty wedding ring, Lissardo;  would it not2
Florellas."                       [To FLORA.     Lis. Humph!l Ah! But-but-but-butFlora. Ha, ha-! excellent. -.You mimic your I believe I sha'n't marry yet awhile.
master then, it seems.         [ To LISsARDO..  F..ora. You sha'n't, you say?-Very well!  I
Lis. I can do every thing as well as my master, suppose you design that:ring for Inis 2
you little rogue. [To FLORA.] —:.Another. time,   Lis. No, no;:I never bribe an-old acquaintance.
Madam, the priest came to make him a visit, he -.Perhaps. I mightlet it sparkle in the eyes of a
called out hastily,.'" Lissardo,' said he, "bring a -stranger a little, till: we come:to: a right underViolante for my father to sit on."-Then he standing —but, then, like all other mortal things,
often mistook my name, Madam,. and called me it would return from. whence it came.
Violante; in short, I heard it so often, that it be-    Flora. Insolent —-is that your manner: of
came. as familiar to me as my prayers.        dealing?2-. 
Vio. You live very merrily, then, it seems,   Lis. With all but thee.-Kiss me, you little
Lis. Oh, exceedingly merry, Madam.          rogue you.                        [Hugs her.
[Kisses. FLORA'S hand.   Flora. Little rogue! Pr'ythee, fellow, don't
Vio. Ha! exceeding merry. Had you treats be so familiar; [Pushes him away.]  If I mayn't
and balls'? keep your ring, I can keep my kisses.
Lis. Oh! yes, yes, Madam,..several..-.-   Lis. You can, you say? Spoke with the air of
Flora. You are mad, Lissardo.; you don't mind  a chambermaid.
what my lady says to you. [Apart to LISSARDO.   Flora. Replied with the spirit of a serving man.
Vio. Ha! balls. -.Is he so merry in my ab-   Lis.  Pr'ythee, Flora, don't let you and I fall
sence? [Aside.]  And did your master dance,. out; I am in a merry humour, and shall certainly
Lissardo?                                    fall in somewhere.
Lis. Dance, Madam! where, Madam?              Flora. What care I where you fall in.
Vio. Why, at those balls you speak of.
Lis. Balls! what balls, Madam?                          Re-enter VIOLANTE.
Vio. Why, sure you are in love, Lissardo; did   Vio. Why do you keep Lissardo so long, Elonot you say, but now, you had balls where you ra, when you don't know how soon my father
s. Bals, Madam! wash-balls, Ma'am. Ods-been   may awake?  His afternoon naps are never long.
~is. Balls, M'mis-'Flora. Had Don Felix been with her, she
life, I ask your pardon, Madam!  tI, I, had mis- would not have thought the time long. These lalaid some wash-balls of my. master's t'other day;:dies consider nobody's wants but their own.
and because I could not think where I had laid                                      [Aside.
them, just when he asked for them, he very fairly    Vio. Go, go, let him out.
broke my head, M.adam, and now it seems I can    Flora. Yes, Madam.
think of nothing else. Alas! he dance,: Madaml.;   i   I fly, Madam.
No, no, poor gentleman, he. is. as melancholy as:                eunt    ARO and FLORA.
an unbraced drum.   Thr ertaigfr Vio. The day draws in, and night, the lover's
Vio. Poor Felix! There, wear- that ring  for friend, advances. —Night, more welcome than the
your master's sake, and let him know I shall be sun to me, because it brings my love.
ready to receive him.    -[Puts o        it. the   Flora [ Within.] Ah, thieves, thieves! murder,
Lis. I shall, Madam.-[Puts onthe ring.] murder!
Methinks a diamond ring is a vast addition,to the    Vio [Shrieks.] Ah, defendme, Heaven  what
little finger of a gentleman. [Admires his hand. do I hear? Felix is certainly pursued, and will
Flora. That ring must be-mine. -[ Aside,] - -be take.
Well, Lissardo!.what haste:you make to pay off
arrears now.v  Look how the:fellow stands!             Re-enter FLORA, running.
Lis.'Egad, methinks I- have a very pretty hand
-and very white-and the~shape! -— Faith,-I How now!  Why doststare so?  Answer me
never minded it so much before!-  In my opi — quickly; what's the matter?
nion it is a very fine-shaped hand —— and becomes   Flora.:Oh, Madam! as I was letting out Lisa diamond ring as well as: the. first grandee's in sardo, a gentleman rushed between him and I,
Portugal...                                 struck down my. candle,. and is bringinga dead
Flora. The man's transported. I  Is this your person in his arms into..our house..love?  This- y.our impatience?'                Vio. Ha! a dead person.! Heaven grant it does
love?  This your impatiencelx
Lis. [ Takes snff.] Now in my mind-I take not prove my Felix.
snuff with a very jantee air.-Well, I am persuad-e  Flora. Here they are, Madam.
ad I want nothing but a coach and a title to.make   TVio. I'll retire, till you discover the meaning of
mne a very fine gentleman. [Struts. about.: this accident.. Exit.
Flora. Sweet Mr. Lissardo, [Courtesies.] if I Enter COL ONEL BRITON, with ISABELLA in hws
may presume to speak to you, without affronting    arms, whom he sets down in a chair, and adyour little finger                              dresses himself to FLORA.
Lis. Odso, Madam, I ask your pardon. —Is
it to me or to the ring-7you direct your discourse,   Col. B. Madam, the necessity this lady was
Madam?                                        under of being conveyed into some house with




SCENE I.]                        THE WONDER.                                           271
speed and secrecy, will, I hope, excuse any inde- vey me to the next monastery; but ere I reached
cency I might be guilty of, in pressing so rudely- the door, I saw, or fancied that I saw, Lissardo,
into this-I am an entire stranger to her name my brother's man; and the thought that his masand circumstances; —would lwere so to her beau- ter might not be far off, flung nme into a swoon,
ty too. [Aside.]  I commit her, Madami, to your which is all that I can remember.- Ha! what's
care, and fly to make her retreat secure; if the here. [Takes up a letter.] For Colonel Briton;
street be clear, permit me: to return, and learn  to be left at the post-house, in Lisbon. —-This must
from her own mouth if I can be further service- be dropped by the stranger who brought me hither.
able. Pray, Madam, what is the lady of this.   Vio. Thou art fallen into the hands of a soldier;
house called:.                                 take care he does not lay thee under contribution,
Flora. Violante, Seignior.                   girl.
Col. B. Are you she, Madam 1                   Isa. I find he is a gentleman; and if he is but
Flora. Only her woman, Seignior.             unmarried, I could be content to follow him all
Col. B. Your humble servant, Mistress.  Pray  the world over.-But I shall never see him more,
be careful of the lady.                        I fear.                                [Sighs.
[Gives her two moidores, and exit.    Vio. What makes you sigh, Isabella 1
Flora.: Two moidores! Well, he is a' generous    Isa. The fear of getting into my father's clutches
fellow. This is the only way to make one careful. again.
enter    LNTVio. Can I be serviceable to you 
Isa. Yes, if you conceal me two or three days.
Vio. Was you distracted, Flora, to tell my name  - Vio. You command my house, and secrecy.
to a man you never saw?. Unthinking wench!   Isa. I thank you, Violante.  I wish you would
Who knows what this may turn to?          What, oblige me with Mrs. Flora awhile.
is the lady dead?-Ah! defend me, Heaven!'tis    Vio. I'll send her to you-I. must watch if dad
Isabella, sister'to my Felix.  What has befallen  be still asleep, or here will be no room for Felix.
her! Pray Hleaven he's safe.-Run and fetch                                             [Exit.
some cold water.  Stay, stay, Flora- Isabel-   Isa. Well, I don't know  what ails me; mela, friend, speak to me-oh, speak to me, or I shall thinks, I wish I could find this stranger out.
die with apprehension.
Isa. Oh! hold, my dearest father, do not force              Re-enter FLORA.
me; indeed I cannot love him.
Vio. How wild she talks!                      Flora. Does your ladyship want me, Madam?
Isa. -la! where am I?  Isa. Ay, Mrs. Flora, I resolve to make you my
Vio. With one as sensible of thy pain as thou  confidante.
thyself canst be.                                 Flora. I shall endeavour to discharge my duty,
Isa. Violante!-what kind star preserved and  Madam.
lodged me here?                                  Isa. I doubt it not; and desire you to accept
Flora. It was a terrestrial star, called a man, this as a'token of my gratitude.
Madam; pray Jupiter, he proves a lucky one.      Flora. 0 dear signora, I should have been your
Isa. Oh! I remember now. Forgive me, dear humble servant without a fee.
Violante; my thoughts ran so much upon the    Isa. I believe it. But to the purpose-do you
danger I escaped, I forgot.                    think, if you saw the gentleman which brought
Vio. May I not know your story?             me. hither you should know him again 
Isa. Thou art no stranger to one part of it. I    Flora. From a thousani, Madam.: -  have an
have often told thee that my father designed to sa- excellent memory where a handsome man is conorifice me to Don Guzman, who it seems is just cerned.-When he went away, he said he would
returned from Holland, and expected ashore to- return again immediately. I admire he comes not.
morrow, the day that he has set to celebrate our   Isa. Here did you say-. you rejoice menuptials. Upon my refusing to obey him, he though I'll not see him, if he comes. -Could not
locked me into my chamber, vowing to keep me you contrive to give him a letter?
there till he arrived, and force me to consent. 1   Flora. With the air of a duenna.
know my father to be positive, never to be won    Isa. Not in this house-you must veil and folfrom his design; and, having no hope left me to low him.-He must not know it comes from me.
escape the marriage, I leaped from the window    Flora. What, do you take me for a novice in
into the street.                               love affairs?  Though I have not practised the
Vio. You have not. hurt yourself, I hope!   art since I have been in Donna Violante's service
Isa No; a gentleman passing by, by accident, yet I have not lost the theory of a chambermaid.
caught me in his arms: at first, my fright made -Do you write the letter, and leave the rest to
me apprehend it was my father, till he assured me me-here, here, here's -pen, ink, and paper.
to the contrary.                                 Isa. I'll do it in a minute. [Sits down to writc.
Flora. He is a very fine gentleman, I promise    Flo. So! this is a business after my own heart:
you, Madam; and a well bred man. I warrant love always takes care to reward his labourers,
him. I think 1 never saw a grandee put his hand  and Great Britain seems to be his favourite couninto his pocket- with a better air in my whole life- try.-Oh, I long to see the other two moidores
time: then he opened his purse with such a grace, with a British air. Methinks there's a grace pethat nothing but his manner of presenting me with  culiar to that nation, in making a present
the gold could equal.                            Isa. So, I have done —now, if he does but find
Vio. There is but one common road to the heart this house again.
of a servant, and'tis impossible for a generous   Flora. If he should not, I warrant I'll find him
person to mistake it.-.GQo leave us, Flora. [Exit if he's in Lisbon; for I have a strong possession
Fr. onR.]  But how came you hither, Isabella?    that he has two more moidores as good as ever
Isa. I know not; I desired the stranger to con- were told.   [Puts the letter into her bosom;




272                             THE WONDER.                                   [ACT ITI.
Re-enter VIOLANTE.              -  Vio. Nay, nay, nay, you must not leave me.
Vio. Flora, watch my papa; he's fast asleep   Fe  Oh,'tis no fair not to answer the gentl.
in his study; if you find him stir, give me notice 
[FELIX taps at the winrdoo.]  Hark, I hear Fe  Sit proves unseasonable. Pray let me go; my
lix at the window; admit him instantly, and then presence is but a restraint upon you.
to your post.          [ESit FLORA.                     [Struggles to get from her.
to your post.      [ExitFLOR. Flora. It must be the colonel-now to deliIsa. What say you, Violante?  Is my brother
come'                                        ver my letter to him..Vio. It is his signal at the window.   -[Aside, and exit: the Colonel taps louder.
Isa. [Kneels.] Oh, Violante! I conjure thee    Pet. Hark! he grows impatient at your delay.
by all the love thou hearest to Felix, by thy own  Why do you hold the man whose absence would
generous nature; nay more, by that unspotted vir  oblige you? Pray, let me go, Madam. Consider,
tue thou art mistress of, do not discover to my bro-   gentleman wants you at the window.-Con.
~ther I am here                   fusion!                         [Struggles.
mVio. It is not me he wants.
Vio. Contrary to your desire, be assured I never
shall. Butwhere'sthe daner         Fel. Death! not you! Is there another ofyour
shall. But where's the danger'?
Isa. Art thou born in Lisbon, and ask that name in the house?- But come on, convince me
question?  He'll think his honour blemished by of the truth of what you say; open the window.
If his business does not lie with you, your convermy'disobedience; and would restore me to my sation may be heard. This,
myther, or kill me * theefore, dear, dear virl- sation may be heard.  This, and only this, car
father, or kill me; therefore, dear, dear girl —
Vio. Depend upon my friendship; nothing shall take of my suspicion. What, do you pause?
draw the secret from these lips; not even Felix, Oh, guilt  guilt! Have I caught you' Nay, then
though at the hazard of his love. I hear h    I'll leap the balcony. If I remember, this way
coming; retire into that closet.
Isa. Remember, Violante, upon thy promise    Vio H Goes to the door  here ISABELLA.
my very life depends.                [Exit.    io. Hold, hold, hold, hold! not for the world
Vio. When I betray thee, may I share thy fate  you enter there! Which way shall I preserve his
sister from his knowledge.           [Aside.
Enter FELIX.                    Fel. What have I touched you'  Do you fear
My Felix! my everlasting love!              your lover's life'
[Runs into his arms.   Vio. I fear for none but you-For goodness'
Pelt. My life! my soul! my Violante!      sake, do not speak so loud, my Felix. If my faYio. What hazards dost thou run for me? Oh, ther hears you, I am lost for ever.-Felix! Fehow shall I requite thee?                   lix! your curiosity shall be satisfied. [Goes to the
Fel. If, during this tedious, painful exile, thy  window, and throws up the sash.] Whoe'er you
thoughts have never wandered from thy Felix, are, that with such insolence dare use my name,
thou hast made me more than satisfaction.    and give the neighbourhood pretence to reflect
Vio. Can there be room within this heart for upon my conduct, I charge you instantly to be
any but thyself? No, if the god of love were lost gone, or expect the treatment you deserve.
to all the rest of human-kind, thy image would    Col. B. I ask pardon, Madam, and will obey;
secure him in my breast: I am all truth, all love, but when I left this house to-night
all faith, and know no jealous fears.          Pet. Good.
Pel. My heart's the proper sphere where love    Vio. You are mistaken in the house, I suppose,
Fel. My heart's the proper sphere where love Sir
re.sides: could he quit that, he would be nowhere
f'i d: and yet, Violante, I'm in doubt.       Pel. No, no, he's not mistaken-Pray, MaVio. Did I ever give thee cause to doubt, my dam, let the gentleman go on.
Felix?                                        Vio. Pray be gone, Sir, I know of no business
Fel. True love has many fears, and fear as you have here.
many eyes as fame; yet sure I think they see no    Col. B.I wish I did not know it neither-But
fault in thee. [COL. B. taps at the window.] this house contains my soul; then can you blame
What's that?                        [A tap. my body for hovering about it?
Vio. What? I hear nothing.  [A tap again.. Excellent.
Pel. Ha! What means this signal at your        o. Itellyouagain, yo
window'?                                     ever, for your own satisfaction, call to-morrow.
Vio. Some one, perhaps, in passing by, might   Pet. Matchless impudence! an assignation beFel. Matchless impudence! an assignation beaccidentally hit it; it can be nothing else.  fore my face-No, he shall not live to meet your
Vio. Some one, perhaps, in passing by, might fore my face-No, he shall not live to meet your
accidentally l.Vhit it; it can be nothing else. i wishes. [Takes out a pistol, and goes towarab
Col. B. [ Within.] Hist, hist! Donna Violante, wishes.  [Takes out a pistol, and goes towads
Donna Violante                                           the  indow.
Fel. They use your name by accident too, do    Vio. Ah  [Shrieks. hold, I conjure you.
they, Madam'?                                   Col. B. To-morrow s an age, Madam! may I
they, Madam            A                 not be admitted to-night 1
-   Re-enter FLORA.              Vio. If you be a gentleman, I command your
Flora. There is a gentleman at the window, absence.-Unfortunate! what will my stars do
Madam, which I fancyto be the same who brought with me 2                           [Aside.
Isabella hither. Shall I admit him'           Col. B. I have done-Only this-' Be careful
[Aside to VIOLANTE. of my life, for it is in your keeping.
Vio. Admit distraction rather! Thou art the                      [Exit from the window.
cause of this, unthinking wretch!    [Apart.   Pel. Pray observe the gentleman's request, Ma,.
Fel. What, has Mrs. Scout brought you fresh dam.
intelligence?  Death, I'll know the bottom of this    Vio. I am all confusion..mmediately.,    [Offers to go.   Fel. You are all truth, all love, all faith: oh,
Flora. Scout! I scorn your words, Seignior.  thou all womam!   How have I been deceived.




SCENEL.]                        THE WONDER.                                       273
Sdeath, could you not have imposed upon me for Enter COLONEL BRITON, with ISABELLA'S letter
this one night? Could neither my faithful love,     in his hand; GIBrY following.
nor the hazard I have run to see you, make me    Col. B. Well, though I could not see my fair
worthy to be cheated on? Oh, thou —-       incognita, fortune, to make me amends, has flung
Vio. Can I hear this from  you hi  [Weeps. another intrigue in my way. Oh! how I love
Fel. [Repeats.]  "When                  [ left this house to- these pretty, kind, coming females, that won't
night."-To-night,.the devil! return so soon!    give a man the trouble of racking his invention to
Vio. Oh, Isabella! what hast thou involved me deceive them. —This letter I received from a lady
in?                                 [Aside. in a veil.-Some duenna; some necessary impleFel. [Repeats.] " This house contains my ment of Cupid. I suppose the style is frank and
soul."  Oh, sweet soul!                      easy, I hope like her that writ it. —[Reads.] " Sir,
Vio. Yet I resolve to keep the secret. [Aside. I have seen your person, and like it"-  very
Fel. [Repeats;. "Be careful of my life, for'tis concise-"..and if you'll meet me at four o'
in your keeping. -Damnation!-How ugly she clock in the morning, upon the Terriero de Pasappears!                                    sa, half an hour's conversation will let me into
Vio. Do not look so sternly on me, but believe your mind."-Ha, ha, ha! a philosophical
me, Felix, I have not injured you, nor am I false. wench; this is the first time 1 ever knew a woFel. Not false, not injurMd me?  Oh, Violan- man had any business with the mind of a man.
te; lost and abandoned to thy vice! Not false!   " If your intellects answer your outward
Oh, monstrous!                              appearance, the adventure may not displease you.
ViTo. Indeed I am not. —There is a cause which  Iexpect you'll not attempt to see my face, nor
I:must not reveal.-Oh, think how far honour ofer any thing unbecoming the gentleman Itake
can oblige your sex-then allow a woman may be you for."-Humph, the gentleman she takes
bound by the same rule to keep a secret.     me for! I hope she takes me to be flesh and blood,
Fel. Honour! What hast thou to do with ho- and then I'm sure I shall do nothing unbecoming
nour, thou that canst admit plurality of lovers? agentleman. Well, if I must not'ee'her face, it
A secret! hat ha, ha! his affairs are wondrous safe, shall go hard if I don't know where she lives.who trusts his secret to a woman's keeping; but Gibby.
you need give yourself no trouble about clearing    Gibby. Here, and like yer honour.
this point, Madam, for you are become so indiffer-   Col. B. Follow me at a good distance, do you
ent to me, that your truth and falsehood are the hear, Gibby?
same.                                          Gibby. In troth dee I, weel eneugh, Sir.
Re-enter FLORA.                  Col. B. I am to meet a lady on the Terriero de
Passa.
Flora. Madam, your father bade me see what   Gibby. The de'il an mine e'en gin I ken her,
noise that was.-For goodness' bake, Sir, why do Sir.
yeu speak so joud?                             Col. B. But you will when you come there,
Fel. I understand my cue, mistress; my ab- sirrah.
sence is necessary, I'll oblige you.           Gibby. Like eneugh, Sir; I have as sharp an
l Going, she holds him. e'e till a bonny lass as ere a lad in aw Scotland:
Vio. Oh, let me undeceive you first.      and what maun I dee wi' her, Sir?
Fel. Impossible!                            Col. B. Why, if she and I part, you must watch
Vio.'Tis very possible, if I durst.      her home, and bring me word where she lives.
FeSt. Durst! ha, ha, ha! durst, quotha!   Gibby. In troth sal I, Sir, gin the de'il tak' her
Vio. But another time I'll tell thee all.  not.
Fel. Nay, now or never.                      Col. B. Come along then,'tis pretty near the
Vio. Now it cannot be.                    time.-I like a woman that rises early to pursue
Fel. Then it shall never be.-Thou most un- her inclination.
grateful of thy sex, farewell.                 Thus we improve the pleasures of the day,
[Breaksfrom her, and exit.   While tasteless mortals sleep their time away.
Vie. Oh, exquisite trial of my friendship! Yet                               [Exeunt.
not even this shall draw the secret from me.
That ill preserve, let fortune frown or smile;            
And trust to love, my love to reconcile.            Enter INIs and LISARDO.
[Exeunt.   Lis. Your lady run away, and you know not
whither, say you?
ACT III.                      Inis. She never greatly cared for me after find.
ing you and I together: but you are very grave,
SCENE I. —A Street.              methinks, Lissardo.
Enter DON LOPEZ.                  Lis. [Looking on the ring.] Not at all-I have
some thoughts indeed of altering my course of
Lop. Was ever man thus plagued! Odsheart! living; there is a critical minute in every man's
I could swallow my dagger for madness; I know  life, which, if he can but lay hold of; -he may make
not what to think; sure Frederic had no hand in his fortune.
her escape.-She must get out of the window;   Inis. Ha! what do I see? a diamond ringt
and she could not do that without a ladder: and where the deuce had he that ring? [Aside.] You
who could bring it her but him?  Ay, it must be have got a very pretty ring there, Lissardo.
so. This graceless baggage-but I'll to Frederic   Lis. Ay, the trifle is pretty enough; but the
immediately; I'll take the alguazil with me, and lady who gave it to me is a bona roba, in beauty,
search his house; and if I find her, I'll use her-  I assure you.  [Cocks his hat, and struts.
by St. Anthony, I don't know how I'll use her.  Inis. I can't bear this.-The lady.! [Aside. 
VOL. I.... 2 M      /            [Exit. What lady, pray?




274                           THE WONDER.                                     [ACT XII.
Lis. O fie! There's a question to ask a gen- cheer she gave you; but that you could never like
tleman.                                      a woman-with crooked legs, you said.
Inis. A gentleman! Why the fellow's spoil-  Inis. How, how sirrah, crooked legs! Odds,
edI! Is this your love for me-?  Ungrateful man, I could find in my heartyou'll break my heart, so you will.                       [Snatches up her petticoat a little.
[Bursts into tears.   Lis. Here's a lying young jade, now! Pr'yLis. Poor tender-hearted fool-    [Aside. thee, my dear, moderate thy passion.
Inis. If 1 knew who gave you that ring, I'd tear                           [Coaxingly.
her eyes out, so I would.             [Sobs.   Inis. I'd have you to know, sirrah, my legs
Lis.. So, now the jade wants a little coaxing. were never-your master, I hope, understands legs
[Aside.] Why, what dost weep for now, my dear, better than you do, sirrah.  [Passionately.
ha?                                            Lis. My master, so, so.
Ini.s. I suppose Flora gave you that ring; but              [Shakes his head and winks.
I'll-                                          Flora. I am glad I have done some mischief
Lis. No, the devil take me if she did; you make however.                        [Aside.
me swear now.-So, they are all for the ring, but   Lis. Art thou: really so foolish to mind what an
I shall bob'emr. [Aside.]  I did but joke, the ring enraged woman says  Don't you see she does it
is none of mine, it is my master's; I am to give it on: purpose to part you and I?  [ To INIs: runs
to.be new set,, that's all; therefore, pr'ythee, dry  to FLORA.] Could not you find the joke without
thy eyes, and kiss me, come.                putting yourself in a passions you silly girl you.
Enter FLORA, unobserved.           Why I saw you follow us plain enough, and said all
this, that you might not go back with only your
Inis. And do you really speak truth, now?    labour for your pains, —But you are a revengeful
Lis. Why do you doubt it?                young slut though, I tell you that; but come, kiss
Flora. So, so, very well! I thought there was and be friends.
an intrigue between him and Inis, for all he has   Flora. Don't think to coax me; hang your
forsworn it so often.               [Aside. kisses.
Inis. Nor han't you seen Flora, since you came   Fel. [ Without.] Lissardo.
to town?                                      Lis. Odsheart, here's my master: the devil
Flora. Ha! how dares she mention my name? take both these jades for me, what shall I do with
[Aside. them q                               [Aside.
Lis. No, by this kiss, I han't.   [Kisses her.   Inis. Ha.!'tis Don Felix's voice; I would not
Flora. Here's a dissembling varlet.  [Aside. have him find me here with his footman for the
Inis. Nor don't you love her at all?     world.                               [Aside.
Lis. Love the devil! why did I not always tell   Fel. [Without.] Why, Lissardo, Lissardo!
thee she was my aversion?                    Lis. Coming, Sir. What a pox will you do?
Flora. Did you so, villain                  Flora. Bless me, which way shall I get out?.
[Gives him a box on the ear.   Lis. Nay, nay, you must e'en set your quarrel
Lis, Zounds, she's here! I have made a fine aside, and be content to be mewed up in this
piece of work on't.                 [Aside. clothes-press together, or stay where you are, and
In/s. What's that for, ha?  [Goes up to her. face it out-there is no help for it.
Flora. I shall tell you by and by, Mrs. Frippe-   Flora. Put me any where, rather than that;
ry, if you don't get about your business.   come, come, let me in.
Inis. Who do you call Frippery, Mrs. Trol- cHe opens the press, and she goes in.
lop? Pray get about your business, if you go to   Inis. I'll see her hanged'before I'll go into the
that; I hope you pretend to no right and title here. place where she is.-I'll trust fortune with my
Lis. What the devil, do they take me for an deliverance. Here used to be a pair of back stairs;
acre of land, that they quarrel about right and title I'll try to find them out.  [Exit.
to me? 
Flora. Pray what right have you, mistress, to   Enter DON FELIX and FREDERIC.
ask that question?                           Fel. Was you asleep, sirrah, that you did not
Inis. No matter for that, I can show a better hear me call 1
title to him than you, I believe.             Lis. I did hear you, and answered you I was
Flora. What. has he given thee nine months' coming, Sir.
earnest for a living title? ha, ha!          Fel. Go, get the horses ready; I'll leave Lisboa
Inis. Don't fling your flaunting jests at me, to-night, never to see it more.
Mrs. Boldface, for I won't take'em, I assure you.   Lis. Hey-day! what's the matter now? [Exit.
Lis. So! now I am as great as the famed Alex-   Fred. Pray tell me, Don Felix, what has rufander. But my dear Statira and Roxana, don't fled your temper thus?
exert: yourselves so much about me; now Ifancy,   Fel. A woman —Oh, friend, who can name
ifyou would agree lovingly together, I might, in a woman, and forget inconstancy t
modest way, satisfy both your demands upon me.   Fred. This from a person of mean education
Flora. You satisfy! No, sirrab, I am not to were excusable, such low suspicions have their
be satisfied so soon as you think, perhaps.  source from vulgar conversation; men of your poInis. No, nor I neither.-What, do youmakeno liter taste never rashly censure.-Come, this is
difference between us?                      some groundless jealousy.-Love raises many
Flora. You pitiful fellow you!  What you fears.
fancy I warrant, that I gave myself the trouble of   Fel. No, no; my ears conveyed the truth into
dogging you out of love to your filthy person; but my heart, and reason justifies my anger. Oh,
you are mistaken, sirrah.-It was to detect your my friend! Violante's false, and I have nothing
treachery.-How often have you sworn to me that left but thee, in Lisbon, which can make me wish
you hated Inis, and only carried fair for the eood ever to see it more, except revenge upon my rival,




SOENE I.]                      THE WONDER.                                        275
if whom I am ignorant. Oh, that some miracle       Enter ALOGUAZIZ and Attendants.
would reveal him to me, that I might through his   Lop. No, Sir,'tis you that will repent it. I
heart punish her infitdelit~y.               charge you, in the king's name, to assist me in
Re-enter LISSARDO.:: finding my daughter.-Be sure you leave no part
of the house unsearched. Come, follow me.
Lis. Oh, Sir! here's your father, Don Lopez,     [Gets towards the door where FELIX: is:
coming up.                                           FREDERIC draws, and plants himself
Fel. Does he know that I am here'                 before it.
Lis. I can't tell, Sir; he asked for Don Frede-   Fred. Sir, I must first know by what authority
tic.                                         you pretend to search my house, before you enter
Fred. Did he see you?                     here.
Lis. I believe not, Sir; for as soon as I saw    Alg. How, Sir, dare you presume to draw your
him, I ran back to give my master notice.    sword upon the representative of majesty.'  am,
Fel. Keep out of'his sight then, [Exit LIssAR- Sir, I am his majesty's alguazil, and& the very
DO.]-A-nd, dear Frederic, permit me to retire quintessence of authority-therefore put up; your
into' the next room, for I know the old gentleman  sword, or I shall order you to be knocked downwill be very much displeased at my return with- For know, Sir, the breath of an alguazil is as -danout his leave.                       [Exit. gerous as the breath of a derni-culverin.
Fred. Quick, quick, be gone, he is here.     Lop. She is certainly in that room. by-his guardi ng the door-if he disputes your authority, kxinock
Enter DON LoPEz, speaking as he enter.    him down, I say.
Lop. Mr. alguazil, wait you without till I call   Fred. I shall show you some sport first  The
for you. Frederic, an affair brings me here-  woman you look for is not here; but'there is somewhich —requires privacy —so that if youhave any  hing in this room which I'll preserve from your
body within ear-shot, pray order them to retire.   sight at the hazard -of my lifi.
Fred. We are private, my lord, speak freely.    Lop. Enter, I say; nothing but my daughter
Lop. Why then, Sir, I must tell you that you can be there-Force his sword from him.
had better have pitched upon any man in Portu-       [FELIX comes out and joins FREDERIC.
gal to have injured, than myself.              Fel. Villains, stand off! assassinate a man in
Fred. I understand you not, my lord.       his own house!
Lop. Though I am old, I have a son.-Alas,   Lop. Oh, oh, oh, misericordia! what do I see,
why name I him. he knows not the dishonour my son 
of my house.                                   Alg. Ha, his son! Here's five hundred pounds
Fred. Explain yourself, my lord; I am not good, my brethren, if Antonio dies; and that's in
conscious of any dishonourable action to any man, the surgeon's power, and he's in love with my
much less to your lordship.                  daughter, you know; so seize himLop.'Tis false! you have~debauched my daugh-   Lop. Hold, hold! Oh, that ever I was born! 
ter.                                           Fred. Did I not tell you, you would repent,
Fred. My lord, I scorn so foul a charge.   my lord? What, hoa! within there,
Lop. You have debauched her duty at least,                Enter VASQUEZ.
therefore instantly restore her to me, or by St.
Anthony I'll make you.                       Arm yourselves, and let not a man in- or out but
Fred. Restore her, my lord! where shall I find Felix.                   [Exit VASQUEoz
her?                                          Fel. Generous Frederic!
Lop. I have those that will swear she is here   Fred. Look ye, alguazil; when. you would bein your house.                              tray my friend for filthy lucre, I shall no more re.
Fred. You are misinformed, my lord; upon my gard you as an officer of justice; but as a thief
reputation, I have not seen Donna Isabella since and a robber thus resist you.
the absence of Don Felix.                      Fel. Come on, Sir; we'll show you play for the
Lqp. Then pray, Sir —if I am not too inquisi- five hundred pounds.
tive, wvhat motive had you for those objections you  Re-enter V      ad  ervants.
made: against her marriage with Don Guzman
yesterday?                                    Lop. Hold, hold, alguazil; I'll give -you the five;
Fred. The disagreeableness of such a match, I hundred pounds; that is, my bond to pay u'on
feared, would give your' daughter cause to curse Antonio's' death, and twenty pistoles, however
her duty, if she complied- with your demands; things go, for you and these honest fellows toedrink
that was all, my-lord.                       my health.
Lop. And so you helped her through the win-   Aig. Say you so, my lord? Why, look ye, niy
dow, to make her disobey.                    lord, I bear the young gentleman no ill will, my
Fred. This is insulting me, my lord, when I lord; if I but get the five hundred pounds, mly
assure you, I have neither seen nor known any lord-why, look ye, my lord —'tis the same
thing of your daughter. —If she is gone, the con- thing to me whether your son be hanged or not.
trivance was her own, and you may thank your my lord.
rigour for it.                                 Fel. Scoundrels!        [Exeunt Servants.
Lop. Very well, Sir; however, my rigour shall   Lop. Ay, well, thou art a good-natured fellow,
make bold to search your house. Here, call in that is the truth on't-Come then, we'll to the
the alguazil-                               tavern, and sign and seal this minute. Oh, FeFlora. [Peeps.] The alguazil! What in the lix! why wouldst thou serve me thus?-But I
name of wonder, will become of me?           cannot upbraid thee now, nor have I time to talk.
Fred. The alguazil! My lord, you'll repent Be careful of thyself, or thou wilt break my heart
this..                                           [Exeunt LOPEZ, ALGUAZIL, Attendants, +4.




276                              THE WONDER.                          [ACT 111
Fel. Now, Frederic, though I ought to thank:               Re-enter VASQUEZ.
you for your care of me, yet till I am satisfied as
to my father's accusation, for I overheard it all, I How now, sirrah, what do you want.
can't return the acknowledgments I owe you.    Vas Only my master's cloak out of this press
Sir; that's all.
Know you aught relating to my sister.     you   Sir; that's all.
Fred. I hope my faith and truth are known to    Fel. Make haste then.
you-and here by both I swear, I am ignorant of          [VAsQuEz  opens the press, sees FLORA.
Vas. Oh!n the devil! the devil       [Exit.
every thing relating to your father's charge.     Vas. Oh! the devil! the devil!       [Exit.
Fel. Enough; I do believe thee. Oh, fortune!   Flora. Discovered!  Nay, then, legs befriend
where will thy malice end 1                    me.                                 [Runs out.
Vio. Ha! a woman concealed! very well, Felix.
Re-enter VASQUEZ.                  Fel. A woman in the press!
Vas. Sir, I bring you joyful news.                         Re-enter LISSARDO.
Fel. What's the matter'
Vas. I am told that Don Antonio is out of  How the devil came a woman there, sirrah?
danger, and now in the palace.                   Lie. What shall I say now.          [Aside.
Fel. I wish it be true; then I'm  at liberty to    Vio. Now, Lissardo, show your wit to bring
watch my rival, and pursue my sister.  Pr'ythee, your master off.
Frederic, inform thyself of the truth of this report., Madam' Nay, nay,    there there
Ftred. I will this minute-~Do you hear, let no- needs no great wit to, to, to bring him off, Mabody in to Don Felix till my return, hearletno-dam; for she did, and she did not come as, as, as
body in to Don Felix till my return.
o:             [To  VASQUEZ, and exit. a, a, a man may say directly to, to, to, to speak to
Vas. I'll observe, Sir. - [Exit. my master, Madam.
Flora. [Peeps.] They have almost frightened`RVio. I see by your stammering, Lissardo, that
me out of my wits-lI'm sure-Now Felix is your invention is at a very low ebb.
alone, I have a good mind to pretend Icame with    Fel.'Sdeath, rascal, speak without hesitation,
a message from my lady; but how then shall I say  and the truth too, or I shall stick my spado in your
I came in the cupboard 3                       guts 
Vio. No, no, your master mistakes; he would
Re-enter VAsQUEz opposing  the entrance of not have you speak the truth.
somebody.                       Fel. Madam, my sincerity wants no excuse.
- Lis. I am so confounded between one and the
Vas. I      tell you, Madam, Don Felis not here. other, that I can't think of a lie.  [Aside.
io. C[Within.] I- tell you, Sir, he is here, and Fel. Sirrah, fetch me this woman back instantI will see him.                                ly; I'll know what business she had here!
Fel. What noise is that 2                       Vio. Not a step; your master shall not be put
Enter VIOLANTE.                 to the blush —Come, a truce, Felix! Do you
ask me no more questions about the window, and
Vio. You are as'difficult of access, Sir, as a first I'll forgive this.
minister of state.                                Fel. I scorn forgiveness, where I own no crime;
Flora. My stars! my lady here!             but your soul, conscious of its guilt, would fain lay
[Shuts the press close. hold of this occasion to blend your treason with
F.el. If your visit was designed to Frederic, my innocence.
Madam, he is abroad.                              Vio. Insolent! Nay, if, instead of owning your
Vio. No, Sir, the visit is to you.           fault, you endeavour to insult my patience, I must
Fel. You are very punctual in your ceremonies, tell you, Sir, you don't behave yourself like that
Madam.                                         man of honour you would be taken for; you
Vio. Though I did not come to return your vi- ground your quarrel with me upon your own in.
sit, but to take that which your civility ought to constancy;'tis plain you are false yourself, and
have brought me.                               would make me the aggressor. —It was not for
Fel. If my eyes, my ears, and my understand- nothing the fellow opposed my entrance.-This
ing lied, then I am in your debt; else not, Madam. last usage has given me back my liberty; and now
Vio. I will not charge them with a term so my father's will shall be obeyed without the least
gross, to say they lied, but call it a mistake; nay. reluctance: and so your servant.  [Exit.
call it any thing to excuse, my Felix —could I    Fel. Oh, stubborn, stubborn heart, what wilt
think ye, could I put off my pride so far, poorly  thou dot her father's will shall be obeyed; ha!
to dissemble a passion which I did not feel, or seek  that carries her to a cloister, and cuts off all my
a reconciliation with what I did not' love — No  hopes at once —By Heaven she shall not, must
law, whilst single, binds us to obey, but your sex  not leave me! No, she is not false, at least my
are obliged to pay a deference to all womankind.  love now represents her true, because I feat to lose
Fel. These are fruitless arguments.'Tis most her. Ha! villain, art thou here   [Turhs upon
certain thou wert dearer to these eyes than all that LISSARDO.]  Tell me this moment who this woHeaven e'er gave to charm the sense of man; but man was, and for what intent she was here conI would rather tear them out, than suffer them to cealed —ordelude my reason, and enslave my peace.           Lis. Ay, good Sir, forgive me, and I'll tell you
Vio. Can you love without esteem? and where the whole truth.. [Falls on his knees.
is the esteem for her you still suspect? Oh, Felix,   Fel. Out with it then.
there is a delicacy in love, which equals even a re-   Lis. It, it, it was Mrs. Flora, Sir, Donna Violigious faith! True love never doubts the object it lante's woman. You must know, Sir, we had a
adores, and sceptics there willdisbelieve their sight. sneaking kindness for one another a great while.
Fel. Your notions are too refined for mine, Ma- She was not willing you should know it; so, when
dam.                                           she heard your voice, she ran into the clothes-press.




s ENE Jil.]                    THE  WONDER.'277
[ would have told you this at first, but I was afraid  your curiosity now; one step farther loses me tb.
of her lady's knowing it; this is the truth, as I ever.-Show yourself a man of honour, and you
hope for a whole skin, Sir.                   will find me a woman of honour.
Fel. If it be not, I'll not leave you a whole bone    Col. B. Well, for once, I'll trust to a blind barin it, sirrah: fly, and observe if Violante goes di- gain, Madam. [Kisses her hand; exit ISABELLA.]
rectly home.                                 But I shall be too cunning for your ladyship, if
Lis. Yes, Sir, yes.                        Gibby observes my orders.-Methinks, these inFel. Fly, you dog, fly. [Exit LissARDo.] I trigues, which relate to the mind, are very insipid
must convince her of my faith. Oh! how irreso- -the conversation of bodies is much m6re divertlute is a lover's heart!-How absolute a woman's ing. Ha! what do I see? my rascal asleep? Sirpower!                                      rah, did not I charge you to watch the lady? And
Int vain we strive their tyranny to quit;  is it thus you observe my orders, you dog?
In vain we struggle,for we must submit.           [Kicks GIBBY, who shrugs, rubs his eyes,
[Exit.         and yawns.
Gibby. That's true, an like yer honour; but I
SCENE III. —The Terriero de Passa.    thought that when yence you had her in yer ain
hands, ye might a ordered her yersel' weel enough,
Enter COLONEL BRITON, and ISArBELLA veiled; without me, e'en ye ken, an like yer honour.
GIBBY at a distance.              Col. B. Sirrah, hold your impertinent tongue,
Col. B. Then you say it is impossible for me and make haste after her. If you don't bring me
to wait upon you home, Madam.        some account of her, never dare to see my face
Isa. -I say, it is inconsistent with my circum- again.                            [Exit.
stances, colonel, and that way impossible for me    Gibby. Ay, this is bonny wark indeed! to rin
to admit of it.                              three hunder mile tae this wicked town, and beCol. B. Consent to go with me then.-I lodge fore I can weel fill my wame, to be sent a whoreat one Don Frederic's, a merchant, just by here: hunting after this black she-devil!-What gate
he is a very honest fellow, and I dare confide in sal I gang to speer for this wutch now 2 Ah! for
his secrecy.                                 a ruling elder. or the kirk's treasurer, or his man,
Isa. Ha! does he lodge there?  Pray Heaven, I'd gar my master mak' twa o' this. But 1 am
I am not discovered!                 [Aside. sure there's nae sic honest folk here., or there wad
Col. B. What say you, my charmer? shall we na be sae muckle sculdudderie.
breakfast together?  I have some of the best tea;n the universe.                                    Enter a SOLDIER, passing,long.
Isa. Pooh! tea! Is that the best treat. you can Gudeman, did ye see a woman, a lady, ony gate
give a lady at your lodgings, colonel  here awa' e'en now?
Col. B. Well hinted. [Aside.]  No, no, no, a great many. What kind ofa wohave other things at your service, child.    man is it you inquire after 
Isa. What are these things, pray?
What are these things, prayibby. Gude troth, she's no kenspeckle; she's
Col. B.- My heart, soul, and body into the bar- a' in a cloud.
gain.
ge~~~~ain.~~~:~S ol. What,'tis some Highiand monster, which
Isa. Has the last no incumbranca upon it? Can Sal.What,'tissomeHighlandmo           hI
Isa. Has the last no incumbrance upon it  Can you brought over with you, I suppose: I see no
you make a clear title, colonel?             such note. Kenspeckle, quotha!
B. All freeholdchldesuch, not I. Kenspeckle, quotha!
Col. B. All freehold, child; and I'll afford thee    Gibby. Hooly, hooly, man; the de'il pike out
a very good bargain.          [Embraces her.
n very good bargain.rces  her. yer e'en, and then ye'll see the better, ye PortiGibby. O' my saul, they mak' muckle words
aboutit. Tse sair weary wi' standing; Ise e'en  geese ikena.
tak'a sleep.                           Saol. What says the fellow? [ Turns to GIBBY,
~~~~tak' a sleep.  -                        ~Gibby. Say. Say I am a better fallow than
Isa. If I take a lease. it must be for life, colonel. e'er stude upon yer shanksand gin I hear mair
Col. B. Thou shalt have me as long or as little o' yer din, de'il o' my saul, Sir, but Ise crack yer
time as thou wilt, my dear. Come, let's to my                  crn.
lodging, and we'll sign and seal this minute.  Sol. Get you gone, you Scotch rascal, and thank
Isa. Oh, not so fast, colonel; there are many your heathen dialect, which I don't understand
things to be adjusted before the lawyer and the then dialect, which Ihadon't your bones broke.
p      Tho oe lwerat that you han't your bones broke.
parson come.                                    Gibby. Ay, an ye dinna understaun' a ScotsCol.:B. The lawyer and parson! No, no, you man's tongue, Ise see gin ye can understaun' a
little rogue, we can finish our affairs without the Scotsman's gripe. Wha's the better man, now,
help of the law-or the gospel.                Sir       [Trips up his heels and gets astride
Isa. Indeed but we can't, colonel.                      over him.
Col. B. Indeed! Why, hast thou, then,. trepanned me out of my warm bed this morning for Enter VIOLANTE, who crosses the stage; GIBaY
nothing?  Why, this is showing a man, half famished, a well furnished larder, then clapping a   her.
padlock on the door, till you starve him quite.
lsa. If you can find in your heart to say grace, I vow, Madam, but I am glad that ye and I are
colonel, you shall keep the key.             forgathered.                  [Exit SOLDIER
Col. B. I love to see my meat before I give    Vio. What would the fellow have 
thanks, Madam; therefore uncover thy face, child,   Gibby. Nothing ava, Madam, wo worth yer
and I'll tell thee more of my mind. If I like you- heart; what a muckle deal o' mischief had youlike
Isa. I dare not risk my reputation upon your to bring upon puir Gibby!
ifs, colonel, and so adieu.         [Going.   Vio. The man's drunk.
Col. B. Nay, nay, nay, we must not part.     Gibby. In troth am I not. And gin I had nae
Isa. As you ever hope to see me more, suspend found ye, Madam, the laird kens when I should;
24




27-S                           THE WONDE R.                                    LACT JV
for my maister bade me ne'er gang hame without   Vio. Most true.
tidings o' ye, Madam.                          Isa. Some villain has traduced him to you.
rVio. Sirrah, get about your business, or I'll   Vio. No. Isabella, I love too well to trust the
have your bones drubbed.                     eyes of others; I never credit the ill-judging world,
Gibby. Gude faith, my maister has e'en done or form suspicions upon vulgar censures; no, I had
that t'yer hands, Madam.                     ocular proof of his ingratitude.
Vio. Who is your master, Sir?                Isa. Then 1 am most unhappy. My brothea
Gibby. Mony a ane speers the gate they ken was the only pledge of faith betwixt us; if he has
right weel. It is not sae lang sin' ye parted wi' forfeited your favour, I have no title to your friendhim. I wish he ken ye hauf as weel as ye ken ship.
him.                                            Vio. You wrong my friendship, Isabella; your
Vio. Poh, the creature's mad, or mistakes me own merit entitles you to every thing within my
for somebody else; and I should be as mad as he, power.
to talk to him any longer.                     Isa. Generous maid!-But may I not know
[Enters DON PEDRO'S house. what grounds you have to think my brother false.
En~ter LISSARDO act tlhe u~pper end of the stcage.  Vio. Another time —But tell me, Isabella, how
can I serve you?
Lis. So, she's gone -home, i see. What did   Isa. Thus, then-The gentleman that brought
that Scotch fellow want with her? I'll try to find me hither, I have seen and talked with upon the
it out:; perhaps I may discover something that may  Terriero de Passa this morning, and I find him a
make my master friends with me again.        man of sense, generosity, and good humour; in
Gibby. Are ye gane, Madam? a de'il scope in'short, he is every thing that I could like for a:husyer company; for I'm as wise as I was. But I'll band, and I have dispatched Mrs. Flora to bring
bide and see wha's house it is, gin I can meet wi' him hither; I hope you'll excuse the liberty I have
ony civil body to speer at. [Turns and sees Lls- taken.
SAaRDO.] My lad, wot ye wha lives here?        Vio. Hither! to what purpose?
Lis. Don Pedro de Mendosa.                  Isa. To thegreat universal purpose, matrimony.:Gibby. And did you see a lady gang in but now?    Vio. Matrimony! why, do you design to ask him?
Lis. Yes, I did.                             Isa. No, Violante, you must do that for me.
Gibby. And d'ye ken her tae?                Vio. I thank you for the favour you design me,
Lis. It was Donna Violante, his daughter. — but desire to be excused: I manage my own afWhat the devil makes him so inquisitive?  Here  fairs too ill, to be trusted with those of other peois something in it, that's certain. [Aside.]-'Tis ple; I can't for my life admire your conduct, to
a cold morning, brother; what think you of a encourage a person altogether unknown to you..
dram?                                       -'Twas very imprudent to meet himn this mornGibby. In troth, very weel, Sir.          ing,:but much more so to send for him hither, know
Lis. You seem an honest fellow; pr'ythee, let's ing what inconveniency you have already drawn
drink to our better acquaintance.            upon me.
Gibby. Wi' aw my heart, Sir, gang your gate   Isa. I am not sensible how far my misfortunes
to the next house, and Ise follow ye.        have embarrassed you; and, if you please, will
Lis. Come along then.               [Exit.  sacrifice my quiet to your own.
Gibby. Don Pe;lro' de Men'dosa-Donna Vio-    Vio. Unkindly urged!-Have I not preferred
lante, his daughter. That's as right as my leg, your happiness to every thing that's dear to me?
now. Ise need nae mair; I'll tak' a drink, and    Isa. I know thou hast-Then do not deny me
then to my maister.                          this last request, when a few hours perhaps may
Ise bring him newswill mak'his heartfull blee; render my condition able to clear thy fame, and
Gin he rewards it not, de'il pimp for me. [Exit. bring my brother to thy feet for pardon.
ACT -IV.                      Vio. I wish you don't repent of this intrigue. 1
SCENE I. —VIOLANTE's Lodgrigs.  suppose he knows you are the same woman that
C   he brought in here last night?
Enter ISABELLA, in agay temper, and VIOLANTE   Isa. Not a syllable of that; I met him veiled,
out of humour.                and to prevent his knowing the house, I ordered
Isa. My dear, I have been seeking you this Mrs. Flora to bring him by the back-door into the
half hour, to tell you the most lucky adventure.   garden.
Vio. And you have pitched upon the most un-   Vio. The very way which Felix comes; if they
lucky- hour: for' it, that you could possibly have should meet, there would be fine work-Indeed,
found in the whole four and twenty.          my dear, I can't approve of your design.
Isa. Hang unlucky hours, I -wont think of them;           Enter FLoRA.
I hope all my misfortunes are past.
Vio. Arid miine all to come.                Flora. M adam, the colonel waits your pleasure.
Isa. I have seen the man I like.             Vio. How durst you go upon such a message,
Vio. And I have seen the man that I could mistress, without acquainting me?
wish to. hate.                                 Flora. So, I am to be huffid for every thing.
Isa. A~nd you must assist me in discovering   Isa.'Tis too late to dispute that now, dear Vio.
whether he can like me or not.               lante; I acknowledge the rashness of the actionVio. You have assisted me in such a discovery  But consider the necessity of my deliverance.
already, I thank ye..                           Vio. That indeed is a weighty consideration:
Isa.'What say you, my dear?              well, what am I to do?
Vio. I say 1 am very unlucky at discoveries,  Isa. In the next room I'il give you Instructions
Istbella; I have too lately made one pernicious to -In the meantime, Mrs. Flora, show the colonel
vny case; your brother is false.             into this. [Exit FLORA one way, ISABELLA and
iea. Impossible!                                      VIOLANTE another.




bcEml I.]                       T:HE:W  ON DE R.                                  279
Re-enter FLORA, With COLONEL BRITON.    dam, a lady last night wounded:my heart by a
Flora. The lady will wait on you presently, teat to take, was my athe     person I could be conSir.                                  (Exit. tent to take, as my father took my mother, till death
Coir.   Very well-This is a very    riti.  do us part. But whom she is, or how distinguishCol.I               have not iseen ha vere quitful soil.u ed, whether maid, wife, or widow, I can't inform
I have not been here quite four ard twenty hours,.   Perhapsyou are she.
and I have three intrigues upon my hands already; yio.   ot to keep you arin suspense, am notshe
but I hate the chase without partaking of thegame. but I can give you an account of her. The lady
Re-enter VIOLANTE, veiled.         is a maid of condition, has ten thousand pounds,
and if you are a single man, her person and forHa! a fin-e-sized wonan-' Pray Heaven, she tune are at your service.
proves handsome.'[Aside.]-I am come to obey    Col. B. [ accept the offer with the highest
your ladyship's commands.                    I transports; but say, my charming angel, art thou
Vio. Are.you sure of that, colonel         not she?
Col. B. if you be not very unreasonable, indeed,    Vio. Once again, colonel, I tell you, I am not
Madam. A man is but a man.
she-But at six this evening you shall find her on
[Kisses her hand. the Terriero de Passa, with a white handkerchief
Vio. Nay, we have no time for compliments, in her hand. Get a priest ready, and you know
~~~~~~~colonel.~~ -the rest.
Col. B. I u~nd~erstand you, Madam.-M1o0ntrez    Col. B. I shall infallibly observe your directions,
moi votre chambre.     Takes her in his arms. Madam.
Vio. Nay, nay, hold, colonel, my bed-chamber
is not to be entered without a certain purchase.   Re-enter FLORA hastily, and whispers VIOLANTE,
Col. B. Purchase!  Humph, this is some kept        who starts and seems surprised.
mistress, I suppose, who industriously lets out her    Vio. Ha! Felix crossing the garden, say you?
leisure hours. [Aside.]-Look you, Madam, you What shall I do now?
nlust consider we soldiers are not overstocked    Col. B. You seem surprised, Madam.
with money-But we make ample satisfaction in    Vio. Oh, colonel, my father is coming hither,
l(,ve: we have a world of courage upon our hands and if he finds you here I am ruined.
now, you  know. Then pr'ythee, use a con-   Col. B. Odslife, Madam, thrust me anywhere.
icience, and I'll try if my pocket can come up to Can't I go out this way?
prur price.                                    Vio. No, no, no, he comes that way. How
Vio. Nay, don't give yourself the trouble of shall I prevent their meeting? Here, here, step
irawing your purse, colonel; my design is levelled  into my bed-chamber.
it your person, if that be at your own disposal.  Col. B. Oh, the best place in the world, MaCol. B. Ay, that it is, faith, Madam, and I'llam.
settle it as firmly upon thee-                 YVio. And be still as you value her you love.
Vio. As law can do it.
Cio. As  law can do int. loe  fais;tou     Don't stir till you've notice, as ever you hope to
Col. B. Hang law in love affairs; thou shalt have her in your arms.
have right and title to it out of pure inclination.   Col. B. On that condition, I' not breathe.
Col. B. On that condition, I'll not breathe.
— A  matrimonial hint again.    [Aside.                                             [Eit.
Vio. Then you have an aversion to matrimony,               Enter FEIX
colonel. Did you never see a woman, in all your
travels, that you could like for a wife?       Fel. I wonder where this dog of a servant is all
Col. B. A very odd question. [Aside.]-Do  this while. But she is at home, I find. How
you really expect that I should speak the truth, coldly she regards me. [Aside.]  You look, Vionow?                                          lante, as if the sight of me were troublesome to
PVo. I do, if you expect to be dealt with, colo- you.
nel.                                            Vio. Can I do otherwise, when you have the
Col. B. Why, then-Yes.                    assurance to approach me, after what I saw tolrio. Is she in your country, or this?    day?
(ol. B. This is a very pretty kind of a cate-'Fel. Assurance! rather call it good nature,
chism. [Aside.]-In this town, I believe, Madam. after what I heard last night. But such regard
Vio. Her name is-                          to honour have I in my love to you, I cannot bear
(Col. B. Ay, how is she called, Madam?    to be suspected, nor suffer you to entertain false
Vio. Nay, I ask you that, Sir.             notions of my truth, without endeavouring to conCol. B. Oh, oh, why she is called-Pray, Ma- vince you of my innocence; so much good nature,
dam, how is it you spell your name.          have I more than you, Violante.-Pray give me
Vio Oh, colonel, I am not the happy woman, leave to ask your woman one question; my man
nor do I wish it.                            assures me she was the person you saw at my
Col. B. No; I am not sorry for that.   What lodgings.
the devil does she mean by all these questions?  Flora. I confess it, Madam, and ask your pal.[Aside. don.
Vio. Come, colonel, for once be sincere. Per-    Vio. Impudent baggage, not to undeceive me
haps you may not repent it.                  sooner; what business could you have there'
Col. B. This is like to be but a silly adventure,   Fel. Lissardo and she, it seems, imitate you
here's so much sincerity required. [Aside.]-   and I.
Faith, Madam, I have an inclination to sincerity,   Flora. I love to follow the example of my bet.
but I'm afraid you'll call my manners in question. ters, Madam.
Vio. Not at all; I prefer truth before compli-   Pet. I hope I am justified —
nlent, in this affair.                          Vio. Since we are to part, Felix, there needs
Col. B. Why then, to be plain with you, Ma- no justification.




280                            THE WONDER.                                    [ACT IV
Fel. Methinks you talk of parting as a thing her up as if she was blind too; turn up her hoot.
indifferent to you. Can you forget how I have    Vio. Undone for ever! St. Anthony forbid
loved?                                      [Aside.] Oh, Sir, she has the dreadfullest unlucky
Vio. I wish I could forget my own passion, I eyes-Pray don't look upon them: I made he}
should with less concern remember yours —But, hood shut on purpose-Oh, oh, on, oh!
for Mrs. Flora-                                Ped. Eyes! Why, what's the matter with her
Fel. You must forgive her-Must, did I say? eyes?
I fear I have no power to impose, though the in-   Flora. My poor mother, Sir, is much afflicted
jury was done to me.                         with the colic; and about two months ago she had
Vio.'Tis harder to pardon an injury done to it grievously in her stomach, and was over-perwhat we love, than to ourselves; but at your re- suaded to take a dram of filthy English Geneva
quest, Felix, I do forgive her. Go watcl my fa- -which immediately flew up into her head, and
ther, Flora, lest he should awake and surprise us. caused such a defluxion in her eyes, that she could
Flo. Yes, Madam.                   [Exit. never since bear the day-light.
Fel. Dost thou then love me, Violantce?     Ped. Say you so?  Poor woman!-Well,
Vio. What need of repetition from my tongue, make her sit down, Violante, and give her a glass
when every look confesses what you ask?    of wine.
-el. Oh, let no man judge of love but those    Vio. Let her daughter give her a glass below,
who feel it; what wondrous magic lies in one Sir; for my part, she has frightened me so, I
kind look-One tender word destroys a lover's sha'n't be myself these two hours. I am sure her
rage, and melts his fiercest passion into soft com- eyes are evil eyes.
plaint. Oh, the window, Violante; wouldst thou    Ped. Well, well, do so- Evil eyes! there are
but clear that one suspicion!              no evil eyes, child.
Vio. Pr'ythee, no more of that, my Felix, a lit-   Flora. Come along, mother.   [Speaks loud.
tle time shall bring thee perfect satisfaction.  Ped. Good bye, good woman.
Fel. Well, Violante, on condition, you think                 [Exeunt FELIX and FLORA.
no more of a monastery, I'll wait with patience    Vio. I'm glad he's gone.       [Aside.
for this mighty secret.                        Ped. Hast thou heard the news, Violante?
Vio. Ah, Felix, love generally gets the better   Vio. What news, Sir?
of religion in us women. Resolutions made in    Ped. Why, Vasquez tells me, that Don Lopez's
the heat of passion ever dissolve upon reconcilia- daughter, Isabella, is run away from her father;
tion.                                        that lord has very ill fortune with his children.
Re-enter FLORA, hastily.          Well, I'm glad my daughter has no inclination d,
mankind, that my house is plagued with no suitFlora. Oh, Madam, Madam, Madam, mylord ors.                                     [Aside.
your father has been in the house, and locked the    Vio. This is the first word ever I heard of it:
back door, and comes muttering to himself this I pity her frailty.
way.                                           Ped. Well said, Violante. Next week I inVio. Then we are caught. Now, Felix, we tend thy happiness shall begin.
are undone.
Fel. Heavens forbid! This is most unlucky!              Re-enter FLORA.
Let me step into your bed-chamber, he wont look
under the bed; there I may conceal myself.     Vio. I don't intend to stay so long, thank yoll,
[Runs to the door. papa.                               [Aside.
Vio. No, no, Felix, that's no safe place; my   ped. My lady abbess writes word she longs to
father often goes thither'; and should you cough, see thee, and has provided every thing in order for
or sneeze, we are lost,                     thy reception. Thou wilt lead a happy life, my
Fel. Either my eye deceived me, or I saw a girl-fifty times before that of matrimony, where
man within. I'll watch' him close.  [Aside. an extravagant coxcomb might make a beggar of
Flora. Oh,- invention, invention! I have it, thee, or an ill-natured surly dog break thy heart.
Madam. Here, here, Sir: off with your sword,   Flora. Break her heart! She had as good have
and I'll fetch you a disguise.       [Exit. her bones broke as to be a nun; I am sure I had
Fel. She shall deal with the devil, if she con- rather, of the two. [Aside.] You are wondrous
veys him out without my knowledge.   [Aside. kind, Sir; but if I had such a father, I know what
Vio. Bless me, how I tremble i            I would do.
Re-enter FLORA with a riding-hood.       Ped. Why, what would you do, minx, ha 1
Flora. Here, Sir, put on this. Be sure you   Flora. I would tell him I had as good a right
don't speak a word.                         and title as he had.
Fel. Not for the Indies.   [Puts on the hood.   Ped. You would, mistress! who the devil
Ped. [Within.] Why, how came the garden doubts it?  A good assurance is a chambermaid's
door open?                                 coat of arms; and lying and contriving the supporters. Your inclinations are on tip-toe, it seems.
Enter LJON PEDRO.               If I were your father, housewife, I'd have a pe
Ha! how now! Who have we here?           nance enjoined you, so strict, that you should not
Flora.'Tis my mother, and please you, Sir.   be able to turn in your bed for a month. You
Ped. Your mother! by St. Andrew she's a are enough to spoil your lady, housewife, if she
strapper; why, you are a dwarf to her. How  had not abundance of devotion.
many children have you, good woman?            Vio. Flora, are you not ashamed to talk thus
Vio. If he speaks we are lost.'   [Aside. to my father? You said yesterday, you would be
Flora. Oh! dear Seignior, she cannot hear you; glad to go with me into the monastery:
she has been deaf these -twenty years.         Flora. Did I? I told a great lie, then.
Ped. Alas, poor woman!-Why you muffle   Ped. She go with thee! No, no, she's enough




sCENE I.]                        THE WONDER.                                         281
to debauch the whole convent. Well, child, re-    Vio. Wont you believe your eyes?
member what I said to thee: next week-          Fel. My eyes! no, nor my ears, nor any of my
Vio. Ay, and what I am to do this, too. [Aside.] senses,. for they have all deceived me. Well, 1
- I am all obedience, Sir; I care not how soon am convinced that faith is as necessary in love as
I change my condition.                        in religion; for the moment a man lets a woman
Ped. Well said, Violante.-Well, child, I am  know her conquest, he resigns his senses, and
going into the country for two or three days, to sees nothing but what she'd have him.
settle some affairs with thy uncle; and when I    Vio. And as soon as that man finds his love
return, we'll provide for thy happiness, child —  returned, she becomes as errant a slave as if she
Good bye, Violante; take care of thyself.     had already said after the priest.
[Exeunt DON PEDRO and VIOLANTE.   Pel. The priest, Violante, would dissipate those
Flora. So, now for the colonel. Histj hist, fears which cause these quarrels; when wilt thou
colonel.                                      make me happy?
Re-enter COLONEL BRITON.               Vio. To-morrow I will tell thee; my father is
gone.for two or three days to my uncle's, we have
Col. B. Is the coast clear?                 time enough to finish our affairs.-But, pr'ythee,
Flora. Yes, if you can climb; for you must get leave me now, lest some accident should bring my
over the Wash-house, and jump from the garden- father.
wall into the street.                           Fel. To-morrow then
Col. Nay, nay, I don't value my neck, if my in- Fly swift ye hours, and bring to-morrow mncognita answers but thy lady's promise.       But must I leave you now, my Violante?
[Exeunt COLONEL BRITON and FLORA.   Vio. You must, my Felix. We soon shall
Re-enter FELIX.                 meet, to part no more.
Pel. I have lain perdue under the stairs, till I   Fel. Oh, rapt'rous sounds! Charming woman!
watched the old man out. [VIOLANTE opens the  Thy words and looks have fill'd my heart
door.]'Sdeath, I am prevented.        [Exit. With joy, and left no room for jealousy.
Do thou, like me, each doubt and fear remove,
Re-enter VIOLANTE.               And all to come be confidence and love.
Vio. Now to set my prisoner at liberty. [Goes                                   [Exeunt.
to the' door where the COLONEL is hid.]  Sir, sir,              ACT V.
you may appear.                                      SCENE I.-FREDERIC's House.
Re-enter FELIx,folIowing her.                  Enter FELIX and FREDERIC.
Fel. May he so, Madam? I had cause for my
suspicions, I find. Treacherous woman!         Fel. This hour has been propitious; I am re
TVio. Ha, Felix here!  Nay, then all's dis- conciled to Violante, and you assure me Antonio
covered.                              [Aside. is out of danger.
Fel. [Draws.] Villain, whoever thou art, come    Fred. Your satisfaction is doubly mine.
out, I charge thee, and take the reward of thy               Enter LISSARDO.
adulterous errand.
ael. What haste you made, sirrah, to bring me
Vio. What shall I say? Nothing but the secret word ifeViolante w ent home.
which I have sworn to keep can reconcile this   Lis. I cangive you very good reasons for my
quarrel.                              [Aside. stay, Sir.   Yes, Sir, she went home.
Fvel. A coward! Nay, then I'll fetch you out. stay, Sir.-Yes, Sir, she went home.
e. A coward  Nay, then I' fetch you out.   Fred. Oh! your master knows that, for he has
Think not to hide thyself; no, by St. Anthony, been there himself, Lissardo.
an altar should not protect thee.     [Exit.   Lis           I beg the favour of 
Vio. Defend me, Heaven! What shall I do Lis. Sir, may I beg the favour of your ear?
Vio. Defend me, Heaven! What shall I do?   Fel. What have you to say'
I must discover Isabella, or here will be murder.                 [Whispers; FELIX unessy,[Whispers;  FELIX uneasy
Re-enter FLORA.                  Fred. Ha! Felix changes colour at Lissardo's
Flora. I have helped the colonel off clear, Ma- news. What can it be   t
dam.              -    -                          el. A Scotch footman, that belongs to colonel
Vio. Sayest thou so, my girl?  Then I am  Briton, an acquaintance of Frederic's, say you?
armed.                                        The devil!- If she be false, by Heaven I'll trace
her. —[Aside.]  Pr'ythee Frederic, do you know
Re-enter FELIX.                 one colonel Briton, a Scotsman?
Fred. Yes. Why do you ask me'?
Fel. Where has the devil, in compliance to    Fel. Nay, no great matter: but my man tells
your sex, coniveyed him from my resentment!    me that he has had some little differences with a
Vio. Him! whom do you mean, my dear, in- servant ofhis, that's all.
quisitive spark   Ha, ha, ha, ha! you will never   Fred. He is a good, harmless, innocent fellow;
leave these jealous whims.                    I am sorry for it. The colonel lodges in my house;
Fel. Will you never cease to impose upon me?  I knew him formerly in England, and met him
Vio. You impose upon yourself, my dear. Do here by accident last night, and gave him an inyou think I did not see you   Yes, I did, and re- vitation home. He is a gentleman of good estate,
solved to put this trick upon you.            besides his commission; of excellent principles,
Pet. * Trick!              >* -and strict honour, I assure vou.
Vio. Yes, trick: I knew you'd take the hint,   Pel. Iofintrigueo
and soon relapse into your wonted error. How
Fred. Like other men, J suppose. Here he
easily your jealousy is fired! I shall have a bless-   Frcomes.n, I suppose. Here he
ed life with you.
Fel. Was there nothing in it then, but only to         Enter COLONEL BRITON.
try me?                                       Colonel, I began to think I had lost you.
VOL.1....2N       24*




282                            THE'WONDER.                                     IAcE L'
Col. B. And not without some reason, if you    Col. B. No, plague take the impertinentpuppy,
knew all.                                     he spoiled my diversion, I saw her no more.
Fel. There's no danger of a fine gentleman's   Fel. Very fine! Give me patience, Heaven, or
being lost in this town, Sir.                 I shall burst with rage.             [Aside.
Col. B. That compliment don't belong to me,   Fred. That was hard.
Sir-but I assure you I have been very near being    Col. B. Nay, what was worse-But, Sir, dear:un away with.                                Sir, do hearken to this. [ ro FELIX.] The nymph
Fred. Who attempted it?                    that introduced me, conveyed me out again over
Col. B. Faith, I know not-only that she is a -the top of a high wall, where I ran the danger of
charming woman; I mean as much as I saw of having my neck broke, for the father, it seems, had
her.                                        - locked the door by which I entered.
Pel. My heart swells with apprehension:   Fel. That way I missed him. Damn her inven[Aside.] some accidental reicounter?         tion. [Aside.]  Pray, colonel-ha, ha, ha! it's
Fred. Atavern, I suppose, adjusted the matter. very pleasant, ha, ha!-was this the same lady
Col. B. A tavern?  No, no, Sir, she is above you met upon the Terriero de Passa this morning? 
that rank, I assure you; this nymph sleeps in a    Col. B. Faith, 1 can't tell, Sir; I had a design
velvet bed, and lodgings every way agreeable.    to know who that lady was, but my dog of a foobFel. Ha! a velvet bed! [Aside.]  I thought: man, whom I had ordered to watch her home, fell
you said but now, Sir, you knew her not.     fast asleep. I gave him a good beating for nis
Col. B. No more I don't, Sir.              neglect, and I have never seen the rascal since.
Fel. How came you then so well acquainted   Fred. Here he comes.
with her bed-?
Ef nter GIBBY.
Fred. Ay, ay, come, come, unfold.
Col. B. Why then you must know, gentlemen,   Col. B. Where have you been, sirrah? 
that I was conveyed to her lodgings, by one of    Gibby. Troth, Ise been seeking ye, an lik' yer
Cupid's emissaries, called a chambermaid, in a honour' these twa hours and mair. I bring thee
chair, through fifty blind alleys, who by the help glad teedings, Sir.
of a key let me into a garden.                  Col. B. What, have you found the lady?
Fel.'Sdeath, a garden! This must be Violan-   Gibby. Gude faith, ha' I, Sir; and she's call'd
te's garden.                         [Aside. Donna Violante, and her parent Don Pedro de
Col. B. From thence conducted me into a spa- Mendosa; and, gin ye will gang wi' me, and lik'
cious room, told me her lady would wait on me yer honour, Ise make ye ken the hoose right weel.
presently; so, without unveiling, modestly with-   Fel. Oh, torture, torture!      [Aside.
drew.                                           Col. B. Ha! Violante:! That's the lady'sname
PFel. Damn her modesty! this was Flora.   of the house where my incognita is-: sure it could
[Aside. not be her; at least it was not the same house, I'm
Fred. Well, how then, colonel?             confident.                            [Aside.
C.ol. B. Then, Sir, immediately from another   FrPed. Violante!'Tis false; I would not have
door issued forth a lady, armed at both eyes, from  you credit hinm, colonel.
whence such showers of darts fell around me, that   Gibby. The de'il burst my blether, Sir, gin I
had I not been covered with the shield of another lee.
beauty, 1:had infallibly fallen a martyr to her   Pel. Sirrah, I say you do lie, and I'll make you
charms: for you must know I just saw her eyes — eat it, you dog; [Kicks him.] and if your master
eyes, did I say?  No, no, hold, I saw but one eye, will justify you
though I suppose it had a fellow equally as killing.   Col. B. Not I, faith, Sir. I answer for nobody's
Pel. But how came you to see her bed, Sir  lies but my own. If you please, kick him again.'Sdeath, this expectation gives a thousand    Gibby. But gin he does, Ise na tak' it, Sir, gin
racks.                               [Aside. he was a thousand Spaniards.
Col. B. WVhy, upon her maid's giving notice                    [ Walks about in a passion.
her father was coming, she thrust me into the bed-   Col. B. I owed you a beating, sirrah, and I am
chamber.                                     obliged to this gentleman for taking the trouble off
Pel. Upon her father's coming?            my hands; therefore say no more, d'ye hear, Sir?
Col. B. Ay, so she said; but putting my ear to                          [Apart to GIB~T.
the key-hole of the door, I found it was another    Gibby. Troth do I, Sir, and feel tae.
lover.                                         Fred. This must be a mistake, colonel; for I
Fel. Confound the jilt!'Twas she, without know Violante perfectly well, and I am certain
dispute.                             [Aside. she would not meet you;upon theTerrierode Passa.
Fred. Ah, poor colonel! ha, ha, ha!           Col. B. Don't be too positive, Frederic. Now
Col. B. I discovered they had had a quarrel, I have some reasons to believe it was that very
but whether they were reconciled or not, I can't lady.
tell.; for:the second alarm brought the father in    Pel. You'll very much oblige me, Sir, if you'd
good earnest, and had like to have made the gen- let me know these reasons.
fleman and I acquainted; but she found some other   Col. B. Sir!
stratagem:to convey him out.                   Pel. Sir, I say I have a right to inquire into
PFel. Contagion seize her, and make her body these reasons you speak of.
ugly as her soul! There is nothing left to doubt   Col. B. Ha, ha! really, Sir, I cannot conceive
of now.-'Tis plain'twas she.-Sure he knows how you, or any man, can have a right to inquire
me, and takes this method to insult me.'Sdeath, into my thoughts.
cannot bear it!                    [Aside.   Fel. Sir, I have a right to every thing that reP'red. So when she had dispatched her old lates to Violante.-And he that tradiices her fame,
lover, she paid you a visit in her bed-chamber, ha, and refuses to give his reasons for't, is a villain..slonel.                                                                         [Draws.




SEINE II.]                     THE  WONDER.                                         283
Col. B. What ~the devil have I been doing? ing lip, eyes that roll and languish, and seem to
Now, blisters on my tongueby dozens.  [Aside. speak the exquisite pleasure her arms could give.
Fred. Pr'ythee, Felix, don't quarrel till you    Col. B. Oh'! I am fired with the description!
know for what: this-is all' a mistake, I'm positive! -'Tis the very she. [Aside.]  What's her
Col. B. Look you, Sir, that I dare draw my name?
sword, I'think will admit of no dispute.-But   Fred. Isabella — You aretransported, colonel.
though' fighting's my trade, I'm not in love with    Col. B. I have a natural tendency in me to the
it, and think it more honourable to decline:this flesh, thou knowest; and who can hear of charms
business -than pursue it.-This may-be a mistake: so exquisite, and yet remain unmoved!-Oh, how
however, I'll give you my honour never to have I long for the appointed hour! I'll to the Terriero
any affair, directly or indirectly, with Violante, de Passa, and wait my happiness; if she fails to
provided she is your Violante; but, if there should meet me, I'll once more attempt to find her at Viohappen to be another of that name, I hope you will lante's, in spite of her brother's jealousy. [Aside.]
not engross all the Violantes in the kingdom.  Dear Frederic, I beg your pardon, but I had forFel. Your vanity has given me sufficient rea- got I was to meet a gentleman upon business at
son to believe I'm not mistaken. I'll not be im- five: I'll endeavour to dispatch him, and wait on
posed upon, Sir.                              you again as soon as possible.
Col. B. Nor I be bullied, Sir.               Fred. Your humble servant, colonel.
Pel. Bullied!'Sdeath, such another word, and    Col. B. Gibby, I have no business with you at
I'll nail thee to the wall.                   present.                              [Exit.
Col. B. Are you sure of that, Spaniard.     Gibby. That's weel. Now will I gang and
[Draws. seek this loon, and gar him gang wi' me to Don
Gibby. [Draws.] Say nae mair, man. O'my  Pedro's hoose.-Gin he'll no gang o' himsel', ]se
saul, here's twa to twa. Dinna fear, Sir, Gibby gar him gang by the lug, Sir. Godswarbit, Gibby
stands by ye for the honour o' Scotland.      hates a leer.                         [Exit.
[ Vapours about.
Fred. [Interposes.] By St. Anthony, you sha'n't  SCENE II.-VIoLANTE'S  Lodgings.
fight on bare suspicion: be certain of the injury,   Enter VIOLANTE and ISABELLA.
and then-a                                     Isa. The hour draws on, Violante, and now
FeI. That I will, this moment; and then, Sir my heart begins to fail me; but I resolve to ven— I hope you are to be found-                ture, for all that.
Col. B. Whenever you please, Sir.             Vio. What, does your courage sink, Isabella?
[Exit  FELIX.   Isa. Only the force of resolution a little reGibby.'Sbleed,  Sir, there ne'er was a Scots-treated; but I'll rally it again, for all that.
man yet that shamed to show his face.
[Struts about.                Enter FLORA.
Fred. So, quarrels spring up like mushrooms,   Flora. Don Felix is coming up, Madam.
in a minute. Violante and he were but just re-   Isa. My brother! Which way shall I get out?
conciled, and you have furnished him with fresh -Dispatch him as soon as you can, dear VioL
matter for falling out again; and I am certain, lante.                 [Exit into the closet.
colonel, Gibby is in the wrong.                 Vio. I will.
Gibby. Gin I be, Sir, the man that tauld me
leed; and gin he did, the de'il be my landlord, hell  Enter FELIX, in a surty humour.
my winter-quarters, and a rape my winding-sheet, Felix, what brings you back so soon? did I not
gin I dinna lick him as lang as I can haud a stick say To-morrowv
in my haund, now see ye.                       Fel. My passion chokes me; I cannot speakCol. B. I am sorry for what 1 have said, for Oh! I shall burst!
the lady's sake: but who could divine that she was      [Aside; throws himself into a chair.
his mistress? Pr'ythee, who is this warm spark?    Vio. Bless me, are you not well, my Felix?
Fred. He is the son of one of our grandees,   Pel. Yes-no-I don't know what I am.
named Don Lopez de Pimentell, a very honest   Vio. Hey-day! What's the matter now? Angentleman; but something passionate in what re- other jealous whim!
lates to his love. He is an only son, which may    Pel. With what an air she carries it!-I sweat
perhaps be one reason for indulging his passion.  at her impudence.                [Aside.
Col. B. When parents have but one child, they    Vio. If I were in your place, Felix, I'd choose
either make a madman or a fool of him.       to stay at home when these fits of spleen are upon
Fred. He is not the-only child he has a sister; me, and not trouble such persons as are not
but I think, through the severity of his father, who obliged to bear with them.
would have married her against her inclination,          [Here he affects to be careless of her.
she has made her escape; and notwithstanding'he    Fel. I am very sensible, Madam, of what you
has offered five hundred pounds, he can get:no mean: I disturb you, no doubt; but were I in
tidings of her.                               better humour, I should not incommode you less
Colt B. Ha! how long has she been missing?  I am but too well convinced you could easily disFred. Nay, but since last night, it seems.  pense with my visit.
Col. B. Last night! The very time! [Aside.]    Vio. When you behave yourself as you ought
How went she?                               to do, no company so welcome; but when you reFred. Nobody can tell: theyconjecturethrough  serve me for your ill nature, I waive your merit,
the window.                                  and consider what's due to myself.-And I must
Col. B. I'm- transported I This must be the la- be so free to tell you, Felix, that these humours
dy I caught! [Aside.] What sort of a woman is of yours will abate, if not absolutely destroy'the
she'                          very principles of love.
Fred. Middle-sized, a lovely brown, a fine pout-   Fel. [Rises.] And I must be so free to tell yol




284                             THE WONDER.                                    [ACT v
Madam, that since you have made such ill returns train of ills thou hast brought on me;   [Aside
to the respect that I have paid you, all you do shall   Fel. Ha! I cannot bear to see her weep-a
be indifferent to me for the future; and you shall woman's tears are far more fatal than our swords,
find me abandon your empire with so little diffi- [Aside.]-Oh, Violante-'Sdeath! what a dog
culty, that I'll convince the world your chains are am 1? now have I no power to stir.-Dost thou
not so hard to break as your vanity would tempt not know such a person as colonel Briton? pr'yyou to believe-I cannot brook the provocation  thee tell me, didst thou not meet him at four this
you give.                                    morning upon the Terriero de Passa?
Vio. This is not to be borne —Insolent! You aban-    Vio. Were it not to clear my fame, I would not
don! You! Whom I've so often forbade ever to answer thee, thou black ingrate!-But I cannot
see me more! Have you not fallen at my feet. bear to be reproached with what I even blush to
Implored my favour and forgiveness? Did not think of, much less to act. By Heaven, I have
you trembling wait and wish, and sigh, and swear not seen the Terriero de Passa this day.
yourself into my heart? Ungrateful man! if my    Fel. Did not a Scotch footman attack you in
chains are so easily broke as you pretend, then you  the street neither, Violante?
are the silliest coxcomb living, you did not break    Vio. Yes; but he mistook me for another, or'em long ago; and I must think him capable of he was drunk, I know not which.
brooking any thing, on whom such usage could   Fel. And do you not know this Scotch colonel?
make no impression.                            Vio. Pray ask me nomore questions; this night
Fel. I alwavs believed, Madam, my weakness shall clear my reputation, and leave you without
was the greatest addition to your power; you  excuse fobr your base suspicions. More than this
would be less imperious, had my inclination been  I shall not satisfy you; therefore, pray leave me.
less forward to oblige you.-You have, indeed,   Pel. Didst thou ever love me, Violante 2
forbade me your sight, but your vanity even then    Vio. I'll answer nothing.-You were in haste to
assured you I would return, and I was fool enough  be gone just now; I should be very well pleased
to feed that vanity-Your eyes, with all their to be alone, Sir.
boasted charms, have acquired the greatest glory            [She sits down, and turns aside.
in conquering me. And the brightest passage of   Eel. I shall not long interrupt your contemyour life is, wounding this heart with such arms plation.-Stubborn to the last.   [Aside.
as pierce but few persons of my rank.          Vio. Did ever woman involve herself as I have
[ Walks about in a great passion. done?                           [Aside.
Vio. Matchless arrogance! True, Sir, I should   Pel. Now would I give one of my eyes te be
have kept measures better with you, if the con- friends with her; for something whispers to my
quest had been worth preserving; but we easily  soul she is not guilty. [Aside; he pauses, then
hazard what gives us no pains to lose.-As for my pulls a chair, and sits by her at a little distance,
eyes, you are mistaken if you think they have looking at her some time without speaking, then
vanquished none but you; there are men above draws a little nearer to her.]  Give me your
yoir boasted rank, who have confessed their power, hand at parting, however, Violante, wont you?
when their misfortune in pleasing you made them  [He lays his hand apon her knee several times.]
obtain such a disgraceful victory.           wont you-wont you-wont you 2
Fel. Yes, Madam, I am no stranger to your   Vio. [Half regarding him.] Wont I do what?
victories.                                     Pel. You know what I would have, Violante.
Vio. And what vou call the brightest passage  Oh! my heart!
of my life, is not the least glorious part of yours.  Vio. [Smiles.] I thought my chains were easily
Fel. Ha, ha, don't put yourself in a passion, broke.              [Lays her hand in his.
Madam, for I assure you, after this day, I shall   Fel. [Draws his chair close to hers, and kisses
give you no trouble.-You may- meet your sparks her hand in a rapture.] Too well thou knowest
on the Terriero de Passa, at four in the morning, thy strength-Oh, my charming angel, my heart
without the least regard to me; for when I quit is all thy own! forgive my hasty passion,;'tis the
your chamber the world sha'n't bring me back.   transport of a love sincere! Oh, Violante, VioVio. I am so well pleased with your resolution, lante!
I don't care how soon you take your leave.-But   Ped. [ TWithin.] Bid Sancho get a new wheel
what you mean by the Terriero de Passa, at four to my chariot presently.
in the morning, I can't guess.                 Vio. Bless me, my father returned! what shall
Fel. No, no, no, not you —You were not upon  we do now, Felix? we are ruined, past redemption.
the Terriero de Passa, at four this morning?   P el. No, no, no, my love; I can leap from the
Vio. No I was not: but if I was, I hope I may  closet window. [Runs to the door where ISABELLA
walk where I please, and at what hour I please, is, who closes and bolts herself in.]  Confusion!
without asking your leave.                   somebody bolts the door withinside. I'll see who
Pel. Oh, doubtless, Madam! and you might you have concealed here, if I die for't.  Oh, Viomeet colonel Briton there, and afterwards send  lante, hast thou again sacrificed me to my rival 
your emissary to fetch him to your house-and                                     [Draws.
upon your father's coming in, thrust him into your    Vio. By Heaven! thou hast no rival in my
bed-chamber —without asking my leave.'Tis no heart! let that suffice-Nay, sure you will not
business of mine, if you are exposed among all the let my father find you here-distraction!
footmen in town —nay, if they ballad you, and cry    Fel. Indeed but I shall, except you command
you about at a halfpenny a piece-they may, with- this door to be opened, and that way conceal me
out my leave.                                from his sight.
Vio. Audacious! don't provoke me-don't; my      [He struggles with her to come at the door.
ieputation is not to be sported with [Going up to    Vio. Hear me, Felix- Though I were sure
lhim.] at this rate.-No, Sir, it is not. [Bursts into  the refusing what you ask would separate us for
tear. ] Inhuman Felix!-Oh, Isabella, what a ever, by all that's powerful, you shall not enter




SCENE I.]                       T H E  W  O N D E R.                               285
here. Either you do love me, or you do not. Con- the Terriero de Passa, when all mistakes shall be
vince me by your obedience.                  rectified.   [Apart to FELIX, and exit; FELIX
Pel. That's not the matter of debate-I will              offers to follow her.
know who is in this closet, let the consequence be   Ped. [Draws his sword.] Not a step, Sir, till
what it will. Nay, nay, nay, you strive in vain; the lady be past your recovery; I never suffer the
I will go in.                                laws of hospitality to be violated in my house, Sir
Vio. You shall not go in.                 -Come, Sir, you and I will take a pipe and
Enter D~ON PEDRO.       bottle together.
Pel. Damn your pipe, and damn your bottle!
Ped. Hey-day! what's here to do?  "1 will go I hate drinking and smoking-and how will you
in," and, "you sha'n't go in"-and " I will go in" help yourself, old Whiskers?
-Why, who are you, Sir?                       Ped. As to smoking or drinking, you have your
Pel.'Sdeath! what shall I say now?  [Aside. liberty; but you shall stay, Sir.
Ped. Don Felix! pray, what's your business   Ee. But I wont stay; for I don't like your
in my house? ha, Sir.                        company: besides, I have the best reason in the
Vio. Oh, Sir, what miracle returned you home world for my not staying.
so soon? some angel'twas that brought my fa-  FPed. Ay! What's that 
ther back to succour the distressed. This ruffian,   Fel. Why, I am going to be marrieu; and so
he,-I cannot call him gentleman, has committed good bye.
such an uncommon rudeness, as the most profli-   Ped. To be married! it can't be! Why, you
gate wretch'would be ashamed to own. As I was are drunk, Felix!
at my devotions in my closet-                  Fel. Drunk! Ay to be sure. You don't think
Fel. Devotions!                           I'd go to be married if I was sober.-But drunk or
Vio. I heard a loud knocking at my door, mixed sober I am going to be married for all that; and if
with a woman's voice, which seemed to imply she you won't believe me, to convince you, I'll show
was in danger. I flew to the door with the ut- you the contract, old gentleman.
most speed, where a lady veiled rushed in upon    Ped. Ay do; come, let's see this contract then.
me, who, falling on her knees, begged my protec-   Fel. Yes, yes, I'll show you the contract-I'll
tion from a gentleman, who she said pursued her. show you the contract.-Here, Sir —here's the
I took compassion on her tears, and locked her in contract.               [Draws a pistol.
this closet; but in the surprise, having left open    Ped. [Starts.] Well, well, I'm convinced; go,
the door, this very person whom you see, with his go-pray go and be married, Sir.
sword drawn, ran in, protesting, if I refused to   Fel. Yes, yes, I'll go-I'll go and be married;
give her up to his revenge, he'd force the door.   but sha'n't we take a bottle first?
Fel. What in the name of goodness, does she   Ped. No, no-pray, dear Sir, go and be marmean to do? hang me!                [Aside. ried.
Vio. I strove with him till I was out of breath,   Pel. Very well, very well; [Going.] but I in.
and had you not come as you did, he must have sist upon your taking one glass, though.
entered-but he's in drink, I suppose, or he could   Ped. No, not now-some other time.-Con.
not have been guilty of such an indecorum.   sider, the lady waits.
[Leering at FELIX.   pel. What a cross old fool! First he will, and
Ped. I'm amazed!                          then he wont; and then he will, and then he wont.
Pel. The devil never failed a woman at a pinch:                        [Aside. and exit.
-what a tale has she formed in a minute-   In
drink, quotha: a good hint; I'll lay hold on't to         Enter a SERVANT.
bring myself off.                    [Aside.   Serv. Here's Don Lopez de Pimentell, to wait
Ped. Fie, Don Felix! no sooner rid of one broil on vou, Seignior.
but you are commencing another. To assault a   Ped. What the devil does he want?  He is
lady with a naked sword derogates much from the not going to be married too-bring him  up;
character of a gentleman, I assure you.'  [Exit SERVANT.] he's in pursuit of his son, I
Fel. [Counterfeits drunkenness.] Who? I as- suppose.
sault a lady! upon honour, the lady assaulted me,
Sir, and would have seized this body politic upon
the king's highway-  Let her come out, and   Lop. I am glad to find you at home, Don Pedeny it, if she can. -Pray, bir, command the dro; I was told that you was seen upon the road
door to be opened, and let her prove me a liar, if to-this afternoon.
she knows how.                                 Ped. That might be, my lord; but I had the
Ped. Ay, ay, who doubts it, Sir?-open the misfortune to break the wheel of my chariot,
door, Violante, and let the lady come out. Come, which obliged me to return.-What is your pleaI warrant thee he sha'n't hurt her.         sure with me, my lord?
Pel. No, no, I wont hurt the dear creature.-  Lop. I am informed my daughter is in your
Now which way will she come off?     [Aside. house.
Vio. [ Unlocks the door.] Come forth, Madam;   Ped. That's more than I know, my lord; but
none shall dare to touch your veil-I'll convey here was your son just now, as drunk as an emyou out with safety, or lose my life. —I hope she peror.
understands me.                     [Aside.   Lop. My son drunk! I never saw him in drink
Re-enter ISABELLA, veiled, who crosses the Stage. i     lif   Where is he pray Sir 
Fed. Gone to be married.
esa. Excellent girl!               [Exit.   Lop. Married! To whom? I dont know that
Fel. The devil! a woman! I'll see if she be he courted any body.
really so.                          [Aside.   Ped. Nay, I know nothing of that-but, I'm
Vio. Get clear of my father, -and follow me to sure he showed me the contract.-Within thereI




286                            THE WONDER.                                     [ACT V.
Enter a SERVANT.                thief, see ye me, I speered wha she was-and he
tauld me her name was Donna Violante, Don PeBid my daughter come hither; she'll tell you an- dro de Mendosa's daughter.
other story, my lord.                          Fed. Ha! my daughter with a man, abroad at
Serv. She's gone out in a chair, Sir! t   five in the morning. Death. hell, and furies! By
Ped. Out in a chair! what do you mean, Sir    Anthony, I'm undone
St. Anthony, I'm undone.
Serv. As I say, Sir: and Donna Isabella went   Gibby. Wounds, Sir, ye put yer saint itul
in another just before her.                  bonny company.
Lop. Isabella!          F.                         W
Ped. Who is your master, you dog, you?
Serv. And Don Felix followed in another; I          Gibby  You dog, you!'Sbyeed, Sir, don't ca'
overheard them all bid the chairs go to the Ter-.
oerheard them all:names-I wont tell you wha my maister is, see-ye
nero de Passa.                               me now.
Ped. Ha! what business has my daughter           Ped. And who are you, rascal, that know my
there  I am confounded, and know not what to daughter so well, ha 7
think.-Within there!,. To LISSARDO, holding up his-cane.
Lop. My heart misgives me plaguily. —Call me
L.   ly heart mLgves me plagully.-ual  me   Lis. What shall I say to make him give this
an alguazil; I'll pursue them strait.   [Exeunt. Scotch dog a god beating  [Aside.]     know
your daughter, seignior? Not I; I never saw
SCENE III.'-The Street before DON PEDR    your daughter in all my life.'
your daughter in all my life.
GHouse.ibby. [Knocks him down with his;fist.]. De'il
Enter LISSARDO.                hae my saul, sar, gin ye get no your carich for that
lee now.
Lis. I wish I could see Flora.-Methinks I   Ped. What, hoa! Where are allmy servants?
have a hankering kindness after the slut. —We
must be reconciled.                          Enter COLONEL BRITON, FELIX, ISArELLA, and
VIOLANTE.
Enter (IBBY.
Raise the house in pursuit of my daughter.
Gibby. A' my saul, Sir, but Ise blithe to find    Col. B. Hey-day! What's here to do?
ye here now.                                   Gibby. This is the loon-like tike, an' like yer
Lis. Ha! brother! give me thy hand, boy.   honour, that sent me hame wi' a lee this morn.
Gibby. No sae fast, see ye me.-Brither me, nae   Fel. This is a day of jubilee, Lissardo: no
brithers; I scorn a leer as muckle as a thief, see quarrelling with him this day.
ye now; and ye must gang intul this hoose wi'   Lis. A plague take his fists.-Egad, these Bri.
me, and justify to Donna Violante's face, that she tons are but a word and a blow.
was the lady that gaed in here this morn, see ye
me, or the de'il hae my saul, Sir, but ye and I           Enter DON LOPEZ.
shall be twa folks.
Lis. Justify it to Donna Violante's face, quotha;  Lop. So, have I found you, daughter 2 Then
for what? sure you don't know what you say.    you have not hanged yourself yet, I see.
Gibby. Troth de I, Sir, as well as ye de     Col. B. But she is married, my lord.
therefore come alang, and mak' nae mair words   Lop. Married! Zounds, to whom?
about it.                                      Col. B. Even to your humble servant, my lord.
Lis. Why, what the devil do you mean? Don't If you please to give us your blessing.  [Kneels.
you consider you are in Portugal? Is the fellow    Lop. Why, hark ye, mistress:! are you really
mad?                                        married?                     [To ISABFLLA.
Gibby. Fellow! Ise nane of yen fellow, Sir: and   Isa. Really so, my lord.
gin the place were hell, I'd gar ye de me justice.   Lop. And who are you, Sir?
[LISSARDO going.l Na, the de'il a fit ye gang.                      [2'o  COLONEL BRITON.
[Lays hold of him and knocks.   Col. B. An honest North Briton by birth, and
Lis. Ha! Don Pedro himself; I wish I were a colonel by commission, my lord.
fairly off.                          [Aside.   Lop. A heretic, the devil!
[Holds up his hands.
Enter DON PEDRO.                 Ped. She has played you a slippery trick indeed, my lord!-W-ell, my girl, thou hast been to
Ped. How now?  what makes you knock so see thy friend married.-Next week thou shalt
loud?                                      have a better husband, my dear. [To VIOLANTE.
Gibby. Gin this be Don Pedro's house, Sir, I   Fel. Next week is a little too soon, Sir; I hope
wa'd speak wi' Donna Violante, his daughter.   to live longer than that.
Ped. Ha! what is it you want with my daugh-  FPed. What do you mean, Sir?  You have not
ter, pray?                                 made a rib of my daughter too, have you?
Gibby. An' she be your daughter, an' lik' your   Vio. Indeed but he has, Sir, I know not how;
honour, command her to come out, and answer but he took me in an unguarded minute-when
for hersel' now, and either justify or disprove what my thoughts were not over strong for a nunnery,
this cheeld told me this morn.              father.
Lis. So, here will be a fine piece of work.  Lop. Your daughter has played you a slippery
[Aside. trick too, seignior.
Ped. Why, what did he tell you, ha?          Ped. But your son shall never be the better
Gibby. By my saul, Sir, Ise tell you a' the for't my lord; her twenty thousand pounds was
truth; my maister got a pratty lady upon the how- left on certain conditions, and I'll not part with a
de-call't-passa- here, at five this morn, and he shilling.
gar'd me watch her hame.-And in troth I   Lop. But we have a certain thing called law
lodged her here; and meeting this ill-favoured shall make you do justice Sir.




CemrE JIII.J                    THE WONDER.                                       287
Ped. Well, we'll try that,-my lord, much love has taught me to know, that every man's
good may it do you with your daughter-in-law.    happiness consists in choosing for himself.
Lop. I wish you much joy of your rib.        Lis. After that rulie, I fix here.   [ To FLORA
[Exeunt PEDRO and LOPEZ.   Flora. That's your mistake; I prefer my lady's
service, and turn you over to her that pleaded right
Enter FREDERIC.                and title to you to-day.
1Fel.. Frederic, welcome! -— I: sent for thee to.-i  Lis. Choose, proud fool; I sha'n't ask you twice.
oe partaker of my happiness; and pray give me,  Gibby Whatsay ye now, lass; will yegie your
leave to introduce you to the cause of it.   haund to puir Gibby 1               To INIS.
Fred. Your messenger has told me all, and I   Inis. That I may not leave my lady-I take
sincerely share in all your happiness,       you at your word.-And though our wooing has
si~eencehorel I'1y her example, love you dearly.
Col. B. To the right about, Frederic; wish thy been short, I'll, by her example, love you dearly.
friend joy.                                    Fel. Now, my Violante, I shall proclaim thy
Fred. I do, with all my soul;-and, Madam, I virtues to the world.
congratulate your deliverance. [To ISABELLA.]- Let us no more thy sex's conduct blame,
Your suspicions are cleared now, I hope, Felix?    Since thou'rt a proof, to their eternalfame,
Fel. They are; and I heartily ask the colonel   That man has no advantage but the name.
pardon, and wish him happy with my sister: for                                  [Exeunt.




THREE WEEKS AFTER MARRIAGE:
A FRARCE
IN TWO ACTS.
BY ARTHUR MURPHY.
REMARKS.
THE caprice of public opinion condemned this farce on its first representation, in 1764, under the title of What
must we all come to; but in 1776, Mr. Lewis ventured to produce it for his benefit, with its present name, and it
was then established in favour.
This smart little piece is well conceived, occasionally verging on caricature: the flippant foolery of Sir Charles
Rackett, the ridiculous airs of his lady, the pertness of Dimity, &c. produce a piquant and laughable tout ensemble.
DRAMATIS PERSONIE.
COVENT GARDEN.                                COVENT GARDEN.
SIR CHARLES RACKETT,...........M..r. Lewis.   LADY RACKETT,.......... Mrs. Maddocks.
DRUGGET................ Munden. MRS. DRUGGET,.........           Mrs. Davenport.
LOVELACE,...............Mr... Farley.  NANCY,.................... Miss Sims.
WOODLEY,.. Mr. Young.  DIMITY,.......                           Mrs. Green.
ACT I.                        Wood. But you know, my dear Dimity, the
old couple have received' every mark of attention
SCENE I.                     from me.
Enter WOODLEY and DIMITY.                Dim. Attention! to be sure you did not fall
asleep in their company; but what then  you
Dim. Po! po! -no such thing;-I tell you, Mr. should have entered into their characters, played
Woodley, you are a mere novice in these affairs.  with their humours, and sacrificed to their absurWfood. Nay, but listen to reason, Mrs. Dimity; dities.
has not your master, Mr. Drugget, invited me    Wood. But, if my temper is too frankdown to his country-seat? has not he promised to    Dim. Frank, indeed! yes, you have been
give me his daughter Nancy in marriage? and frank enough to ruin yourself. Have not you to
with what pretence can he now break off?      do with a rich old shopkeeper, retired from busiDimi. What pretence!-you put a body out of ness with a hundred thousand pounds in his
all patience. Go on your own way, Sir; my ad- pocket, to enjoy the dust of the London-road,
vice is lost upon you.                        which he calls living in the country  and yet you
Wood. You do me injustice, Mrs. Dimity. must find fault with his situation! What, if he
Your advice has governed my whole conduct. has made a ridiculous gimcrack of his house and
Have not I fixed an interest in the young lady's gardens? you know his heart is set upon it: and
heart q                                       could not you have commended his taste?  But you
Dim. rin interest in a fiddlestick!-You ought must be too frank! "Those walks and alleys are
to isave made sure of the father and mother. What, too regular;-those evergreens should not be cut
do you think the way to get a wife, at this time of into such fantastic shapes."-And thus you al.
day, is by speaking fine things to the lady you vise a poor old mechanic, who delights in every
have a fancy for? that was the practice, indeed, thing that's monstrous, to follow nature. Oht,
but Ihings are altered now.  You must address you are likely to be a successful lover!
the old people, Sir; and never trouble your head    Wood. But why should I not save'a father-inabout your Mistress.                          law from being a laughing-stock? 
288




SCENE.J   THREE WEEKS AFTER MARRIAGE.                                             289
Dim. Make him your father-in-law first. And  are going to marry me, and I am frightea  sat
then the mother; how have you played your cards of my wits.
in that quarter. She wants a tinsel man of fash-   Dim. Why then you are the only young lady
ion for her second daughter. "Don't you see within fifty miles round, that would be frightened
(says she) how happy my eldest girl is made by at such a thing.
her match with Sir Charles Rackett. She has   Nan. A h! if they would let me choose for mybeen married three entire weeks, and not so much self.
as one angry word has passed between them!   Dim. Don't you like Mr. Lovelace'
Nancy shall have a man of quality too."        Natn. My mamma does, but I don't; I don'
Wood. And yet I know Sir Charles Rackett mind his being a man of fashion, not I.
perfectly well.                                Dim. And, pray, can you do better than to
Dim. Yes, so do I; and I know he'll make his follow the fashion?
lady wretched at last. But what then? you should   Nan. Ah! I know there's a fashion for new
have humoured the old fblks: you should have bonnets, and a fashion for dressing the hair; but
been a talking, empty fop to the good. old lady; I never heard of a fashion for the heart.
and to the old gentleman, an admirer of his taste    Dim. Why then, my dear, the heart mostly
in gardening. But you have lost him: he is follows the fashion now.
grown fond of this beau, Lovelace, who is here in  SNan. Does it? Pray, who sets the fashion ot
the house with him; the coxcomb ingratiates him- the heart?
self by flattery, and you're undone by frankness.    Dim. All the fine ladies in London, o' my conWood. And yet, Dimity, I wont despair.    science.
Dim. And yet you have reason to despair; a   Nan. And what's the last new fashion, pray?
million of reasons: to-morrow is fixed for the   Dim. Why. to marry any fop that has a few
wedding-day; Sir Charles and his lady are to be deceitful agreeable appearances abQut him; somehere this very night; they are engaged, indeed, at thing of a pert phrase, a good operator for the
a great rout in town, but they take a bed here, teeth, and a tolerable tailor.
notwithstanding. The family is sitting up for   Nan. And do they marry without loving I
them; Mr. Drugget will keep you all in the next   Dim. Oh! marrying for lose has been a great
room there, till they arrive; to-morrow the business while out of fashion.
is over; and yet you don't despair!-Hush! hold   Nan. Why then I'll wait till that fashion comes
your tongue; here comes Lovelace: step in, and up again.
I'll devise something, I warrant you.  [Exit   Dim. And then, Mr. Lovelace, I reckonWOODLEY.] The old folks shall not have their   Nan. Pshaw! I don't like him: he talks to me
own way. It is enough to vex a body, to see an  as if he was the most miserable man in the world
bld father and mother marrying their daughter as and the confident thing looks so pleased with.hey please, in spite of my judgment, and all I himself all the while. Iwant to marry for love,
can do.                                      and not for card-playing. I should not be able to
bear the life my sister leads with Sir Charles
Enter LOVELACE.                Rackett. Shall I tell you a secret? I will forfeit
Dim. Do lend us your assistance, Mr. Love- my new cap, if they dbn't quarrel soon.
lace. You are a sweet gentleman, and love a   Dim.. Oh, fie! no! they wont quarrel yet awhile.
good-natured action.                         A quarrel in three weeks after marriage, would be
Love. Why, how now! what's the matter?    somewhat of the quickest. By and by we shall
Dim. My master is going to cut the two yew- hear of their whims and their humours. Well,
trees into the shape of two devils, I believe; and but if you don't like Mr. Lovelace, what say you
my poor mistress is breaking her heart for it. Do, to Mr. Woodlev 
run and advise him against it. She is your friend,   Van. All!-  don't know what to say-but I
rou lknow she is, Sir.                      can sing something that will explain my mind.
Love. Oh, if that's all, I'll make that matter  TWhenfirst the dear youth, passing by,:asy directly.                                  Disclos'd his fair form to my sight,
Dim. My mistress will be for ever obliged to  Igaz'd, but Icould not tell why
you; and you will marry her daughter in the     My heart it went throb with delight.
morning.                                      As nearer he drew, those sweet eyes
Love. Oh, my rhetoric shall dissuade him.     Were with their dear meaning so bright,
Dim. And, Sir, put him against dealing with   I trembled, and, lost in surprise;
that nursery-man; Mrs. Drugget hates him.       My heart it went throb with delight.
Love. Does she  When his lips their dear accents did try
Dim. Mortally.                   -The return of my love to excite,
Love. Say no more; the business is done.    Ifeign'd, yet began to guess why
[Exit.]    Mly heart it went throb with delight.
Dim. If he says one word against the giants at   We chang'd the stol'n glance, the fond smile,
Guildhall, he is undone. Old Drugget will never  TVhich lovers alone read aright;
forgive him. My brain was at its last shift; but,   We look'd and we sighed, yet the while
if this plot takes-so, here comes our Nancy.     Our hearts they went throb with delight.
Consent Isoon blush'd, with a sigh
Enter NANCY.                     My promise I ventur'd to plight;
Come, Hymen, we then shall know why
Nan. Well, Dimity, what's to become of me?    Our hearts they go throb with delight.
Dim. My stars! what makes you up, Miss? I
thought you were gone to bed.                             Enter WooDLeY.
Nan. What should I go to bed for? only to   Wood. My sweetest angel! I have heard it all
tumble, and toss, and fret, and be uneasy. They and my heart overflows with love and gratitude
VoL. I....20          25




290              THREE WEEKS AFTER -MARRIAGE.                                   [ACTLn
Nan. Ah! but I did not know you were listen- sure: must I give myself pain? Don't ask me
ing. You should not have betrayed me so, Di- pray don't; I can't support all this uneasiness
mity; I'shall be angry with you.               Drug. I am resolved, and it shall be so.
Dim.'Well, I'll fake my chance for that. Run   - Mrs. D. Let it be so:then, Efries.] Oh! oh'
both into my room, and say all your pretty things cruel man! 1 shall break my heart if the match
to one another there, for here comes the old gen- is-broke off. If it is not concluded to-morrow
tleman-make haste, away.                     send for an undertaker, and bury me the niext
[Exeunt WOODLEY: and NANCY. day.
Drug. How! I don't want that neither.
Enter. DRUGGET.                 MAIrs. D. Oh! oh!
Drug. A  forward, presuming coxcomb! Di-   Drug. I am your lord and master, my dear, but
mity, do you step to Mrs. Drugget, and send -her not your executioner. Before George, it must
-hither...never be said that my wife died of too much comDim. Yes, Sir; —it works upon him, I see.    pliance. Cheer up, my love; and this affair shall. - -                                [Exit  be settled as soon as Sir Charles and Lady
Drug. The yew-trees ought not to be cut, be- Rackett arrive
cause, they'll help to keep off the dust, and I am    lIrs. D. You bring me to life again. You
too near the road already. A sorryignorant fop! know, my sweet, what a happy couple Sir Charles
When.. I am in so fine a situation, and can see and his lady are. Why should not we make our
every cart, wagon, and stage-coach, that goes by. Nancyas happy?.
And then to abuse the nursery-man's rarities! A
finer sucking pig in lavender, with sage growing           Enter DIMITY.
in his belly, was never seen! And yet he wants   Dim. Sir Charles and his lady, Ma'am..me not to have it: but have it I will. —There's a   Mrs. D. Oh! charming! I'm transported with
fine tree of knowledge, with Adam and Eve in joy! where are they? I long to see'em.  [Exit.
juniper; Eve's nose not quite grown, but it's   Dim. Well, Sir; the happy couple are arrived.
thought in the spring will be very forward: I'll   Drug. Yes, they do live happy indeed.
have that too, with the serpent in ground ivy.   Dim. But how long will it last? 
Two poets in wormwood! I'll have them both.   Drug. How long! Don't forbode any ill, you
Ay; and there's a Lord Mayor's feast in honey- jade; don't, I say. It will last during their lives,
suckle; and the whole court of aldermen in horn- I hope.
beam: they all shall. be in my garden, with the   Dim. Well, mark the end of it. Sir Charles,
Dragon of Wantley in box, all, all; I'll have I know, is gay and good-humoured; but he can't
them all, let my wife and Mr. Lovelace say what bear the least contradiction, no, not in the merest
they will.                                  trifle.
yEnter MRS. DRUGGET.               Drug. Hold your tongue; hold your tongue.
Dim. Yes, Sir, I have done; and yet there is
Mrs. D. Did you send for me, lovey?       in the composition of Sir Charles a certain huDrug. The yew-trees shall be cut into the mour, which, like the flying gout, gives no disgiants at G~uildhall, whether you will or not.  turbance to the family, till it settles in the head:
gMars. D. Sure my own dear will do as he when once it fixes there, mercy on every body
pleases.                                     about him! But here he comes.        [Exit.
Drug. And the pond, though you praise the
green banks, shall be walled round; and I'll have        Enter SIR CHARLES.
a little fat boy in marble, spouting up water in    Sir C. My dear Sir, I kiss your hand. But
the middle.                                  why stand on ceremony? To find you up at this
Mrs. D. My sweet, who hinders you?       late hour mortifies me beyond expression.
Drug. Yes, and I'll buy the nursery-man's   Drug.'Tis but once in a way, Sir Charles.
whole catalogue. Do you think, after retiring to   Sir C. My obligations to you are inexpressilive all the way here, almost four miles from Lon- ble; you have given me the most amiable of girls;
don, that I wont do as I please in my own garden? our tempers accord like unisons in music.
MAirs. D. My dear, but why are you in such a   Drug. Ah! that's what makes me happy in my
passion?                                   old days; my children and my garden are all my
Drug. I'll have the lavender pig, and the Adam  care.
and Eve, and the Dragon of Wantley, and all of   Sir C. And my friend Lovelace-he is to have'em; and there sha'n't be a more romantic spot on our sister Nancy, I find.
the London road than mine.                     Drug. Why, my wife is so minded.
Mrs. D. I'm sure it is as pretty as hands can    Sir C. O, by all means, let her be made happy.
make it.                                    A very pretty fellow Lovelace.; as to that Mr.Drug. I did it all myself, and I'll do more. And Woodley, I think you call him-he is but a plain,
Mr. Lovelace sha'n't have my daughter.       underbred, ill-fashioned, sort of a-Nobody knows
Mrs. D. No! what's the matter now, Mr. him; he is not one of us. Oh, by all means marry
Drugget?                                   her to one of us.
Drug. He shall learn better manners than to   Drug. I believe it must be so. Would you
abuse my house and gardens. You put him ihto take any refreshment?
the head of it, but I'll disappoint ye both. And    Sir C. Nothing in nature-it is time to retire
so you may go and tell Mr. Lovelace that the to rest.
match is quite off..                           Drug. Well, well, good night, Sir Charles.
Mrs. D. I can't comprehend all this, not I. But Ha! here comes my daughter. Gxod night, Shi
I'll tell him so, if you please, my dear. I am wil- Charles..
King to give myself pain, if it will give you plea-   Sir C. Bon repos,




cuB. I.]   THREE WEEKS AFTER MARRIAGE.                                          291
Enter LADY RACKETT.              mincing his steps along the Mall, with his pretty
innocent face-1 vow I don't know what to~ play
Lady R. Dear Sir! I did not expect to see you -And so, Me'm, while I was talking to Captain
up so late.                                  Flimsey-Your la'yship knows Captain Flimsey
Drug. My Lady.Racket:, I am glad to hear: -Nothing but rubbish in my hand-I can't help
how happy you are.:. Iwont detain you now. it-And so, Me'm, five odious frights of dogs
-There's your good man waiting for:you;. good beset- my poor little Pompey —the dear creature
night,my girl.                       [Exit. has the heart of a lion, but who can resist five at.Sir C. I must humour this old pot, in order to once?  And so Pompey barked for. assistance.
be remembered in his will.                   The hurt he received was upon his chest; the: Lady R. 0, la! I am quite fatigued. - I can doctor would not advise him to venture'out till
hardly move.; Why don't you help me, you bar- the wound is-healed, for fear of an inflammation
barous man?                                — Pray, what's trumps?"
Sir C. There, take my arm.-,        Sir C. My dear, you'd. make a most excellent
Lady R. But I wont be laughed at. [Looking actress.:
tenderly at him.] I don't love you.;      Lady R. Why don't you hand me up stairs.
Sir C. Don't you?                         Oh! I am so tired; let us go to rest.
_Lady R. No. Dear me! this glove! why don't.  Sir C. [Assisting her.] You complain,:and yet
you help me off with my glove? Pshaw! you raking is the delight of your little heart.
awkward thing, let it alone; you an't fit to be   Lady R. [Leaning on him as he walks away.]
about my person. I might as well not be mar- It is you that make a rake of me.; Oh, Sir
ried, for any use you are of. Reach me a chair. Charles, how -shockingly you played:that last
You have no compassion for me. I am so glad rubber, when I stood looking over you!
to sit down. Why do you drag me to routs?    Sir C. My love, I played the truth of the game.
You know I hate them.                          Lady R. No, indeed, my dear, you played it
Sir C. Oh! there is no existing, no breathing, wrong. Ah!.:Sir Glarles, you have a head.
unless one does as other people of fashion do.  Sir C. Po! nonsense! you don't understand it.
Lady R. But I am out of humour: I lost all   Lady R. I beg your pardon: I am allowed. to
my money..                                   play better than you.
Sir C. How much?  Sir C. All conceit, my dear: I was perfectly
Lady R. Three hundred.                     right.
Sir C. Never fret for that. I don't value three   Lady R. No such thing, Sir Charles. How
hundred pounds to contribute to your happiness.  can you dispute it?  The diamond was the play.
Lady R. Don't you?-not value three hundred    Sir C. Po! ridiculous! the club was the card
pounds to please me?                         against the world.
Sir C. You know, I don't.                   Lady R. Oh, no, no, no; I say it was the diaLady R. Ah! you fond fool! —But I. hate mond.
gaming: it almost metamorphoses a woman into    Sir C. Zounds! Madam, I say it was the club..
a fury. Do you know. that I was frighted at my-   Lady. R. What do you fly into such a passion
self several times to-night? I had a huge oath at for?
the very tip of my tongue.                     Sir C. Death and fury! do you think I don't
Sir C. Had ye?                           know what I am about? I tell you once more,
Lady R. I caught myself at it; but I bit my  the club was the judgment of it.
lips, and so I did not disgrace myself. And then    Lady R. May be so. Have it your own way,
I was crammed up in a corner of the room, with  Sir.              [WTalks about and sings.
such a strange party at a whist-table, looking at   Sir C.. Vexation!.you're the strangest woman
black and red spots: did you mind them?    that ever lived; there's no conversing with you.
Sir C. You know I was busy elsewhere.     Lookye here, my Lady Rackett; it is the clearest
Ledy R. There was that strange, unaccount- case in the world; I'll make it plain to you in a.
able woman, Mrs. Nightshade: she behaved so moment.
fretfully to her husband, a poor, inoffensive, good-   Lady R. Very well, Sir.. To be sure you must
natured, good sort-of a good-for-nothing.kind. of be-right.      rWith a sneering laugh.
man:,but she so teazed him-" How could you' Sir C. Listen to me, Lady Rackett; I had four.
play that card? Ah, you've a head, and so has a cards.: Trumps were out. The lead was mine.
pin-You're a numskull,.,you know you are- They were six-no, no, no, they were seven, and
Ma'am, he has the poorest head in the world, he we nine; then, you know, the beauty of the play
does not know what heis, about; you know you was todon't-Oh, fy!-I'm ashamed of you!"          Lady VR  Well, now it's amazing to me, that
Sir C. She has served to divert yo,.I see.    you can't perceive: give me leave, Sir Charles..
Lady. R. And to crown all, there was my Your left hand adversary had led his last trump,
lady Clackit, who runs on with: an eternal'larum  and he had before finessed the club, and roughed
about nothing, out of all season, time, and place-  the diamond:_..now if you had led your diamondIn the very midst of the game she begins, " Lard,   Sir C. Zoons! Madam, but we. played for the
Ma'am, I was.apprehensive I should not be able odd trick.
to wait on your la'ship; my poor little dog, Pom-   Lady R. And sure the play for the odd trickpey-the sweetest thing in. the world,-a spade..Sir C. Death and fury! can't you hear me 2
led! there's the knave-I. was fetching a walk,   Lady R. And must not I be heard, Sir?
Me'm, the other morning in the Park; a fine   Sir. C. Zoons!. hear me, I say. Will you
frosty morning it was; I love frosty weather of all hear me?
things. Let me look at the last trick-and so,   Lady R. I never heard the like in my life.
M'emrn, little Pompey-Oh! if your la'ship was to  [Hums a tune, and walks aboutfretfully
see the lear creature pinched with the frost, and   Sir C. Why then you are enough to provoke




292             THREE WEEKS AFTER MARRIAGE.    [ACTIT.
the patience of a Stoic.-[Looks at her; he walks you will stay and hear me. Don't think to carry
about and laughs.]-Very well, Madam; you it in this manner. Madam, I must and will be
know no more of the game than your father's heard.
leaden Hercules on the top of the house. You    Lady R. Oh! lud; with that terrible counteknow no more of whist than he does of gardening. nance — you frighten me away.
Lady JR. Go on your own way, Sir.                           [Runs in and shuts the door.
[ Takes out a glass, and settles her hair.   Sir C. [Following her.] You shall not fly me
Sir C. Why then, by all that's odious, you are thus. Confusion! open the door-will you open
the most perverse, obstinate, ignorant-     it? this contempt is beyond enduring. [Walks
Lady R. Polite language, -Sir!.           away.]  I intended to have made it clear to her,
Sir C. You are, Madam, the most perverse, but now let her continue in her absurdity. She
the most obstinate-you are a vile woman!    is not worth my notice. My resolution is taken.
Lady R. I am obliged to you, Sir.          She has touched my pride, and I now renounce
Sir C. You are a vile woman, I tell you so, her for ever; yes, for ever; not to return, though
and I will never sleep another night under one she were to request, beseech, and implore, on her
roof with you.                               very knees.                           [Exit.
Lady R. As you please.                       Lady R. [Peeping in.] Is he gone?  [Comes
Sir C. Madam, it shall be as I please. I'll forward.]  Bless me! what have 1 done? —I
order my chariot this moment. [Going.] I know  have carried this too far, I believe. I had better
how the cards should be played as well as any call him back. For the sake of peace I'll give up
man in England, that let me tell you. [Going.] the point. What does it signify, which was the
-And when your family were standing behind best of the play? —It is not worth quarrelling
counters, measuring out tape, and bartering for about. —How!-here he comes again.-I'll give
Whitechapel needles, my ancestors, my ances- up nothing to him. He shall never get the better
tors. Madam, were squandering away whole es- of me: I am ruined for life if he does. I will
tates at cards; whole estates, my Lady Rackett. conquer him, and I am resolved he shall see it.
[She hums a tune, and he looks at her.]  Why                  [Runs in and shuts the door.
then., by all that's dear to me, I'll never exchange    Sir C. [Looking in.] No; she wont open it.
another word with you, good, bad, or indifferent. Headstrong and positive!-If she could but com[Goes and turns back.] Will you command your mand her temper, the thing would be as clear as
temper, and listen to me l                   day-light. She has sense enough, if she would
Lady R. Go on, Sir.                        but make use of it. It were pity she should be
Sir C. Can't you be cool as I am? —Lookye, lost. [Advances towards the door.] All owing
my Lady Rackett: thus it stood. The trumps to that perverse spirit of contradiction.-I may
being all out, it was then my business-     reclaim  her still-[Peeping through the keyLady R. To play the diamond, to be sure.   hole.] Not so much as a glimpse of her. [ Taps
Sir C. Damnation! I have done with you for at the door.]  Lady Rackett-Lady Rackettever; for ever, Madam, and so you may tell your   Lady R. [ Within] What do you want?
father.                             [ Going.   Sir C. [Laughing affectedly.] Come, you have
Lady R. What a passion the gentleman is been very pleasant. Open the door: I cannot
in!                                          help laughing at all this.-Come, no more
Sir C. Will you let me speak?              foolery: have done now, and open the door.
Lady R. Who hinders you, Sir?                Lady R. [Within.] Don't be such a torment.
Sir C. Once more, then out of pure good na-   Sir C. Will you open it?
ture-                                          Lady R. [Laughing.] No-no- ho, ho!
Lady R. Oh! Sir, I am convinced of your good    Sir C. Hell and confusion! what a puppy I
nature-                                      make of myself! I'll bear this usage no longer. To
Sir C. That, and that only, prevails with me be trifled with in this sort by a false, treacherous,
to tell you, the club was the play.          -[Runs to the door and speaks through the
Lady R. i am prodigiously obliged to you for key-hole.]  The diamond was not the play.
the information. I am perfectly satisfied, Sir.    [ Walks away asfast as he can.] I know what I
Sir C. It is the clearest point in the world. am about. [Looks back in a violent rage.] and the
Only mind now. We were nine, and-            club was not the best in the house.   [Exit.
Lady R. And for that reason, the diamond was
the play. Your adversary's club was the best in               ACT II.
the house.
Sir C. Why then, such another fiend never                  SCENE I.
existed. There is no reasoning with you. It is
in vain to say a word. Good sense is thrown         nter DIMITY, laughing violently.
away upon you. I now see the malice of your   Dim. Oh, I shall. die; I shall expire in a fit of
heart. You are a base woman, and I part from  laughing. This is the modish couple that were
you for ever. You may live here with your fa. so happy! such a quarrel as they have had; the
ther, and admire his fantastical evergreens, till whole house is in an uproar. Ho, ho, ho! a rare
you become as fantastical yourself. I'll set out proof of the happiness they enjoy in high life. I
for London this moment. Your servant, Madam. shall never hear people of fashion mentioned
[Turns and looks at her.] The club was not the again, but I shall be ready tor crack my sides.
best in the house.                           They were both-Ho, ho, ho! This is three
Lady R. How calm you are!-Well, I'll go weeks after marriage, I think.
t bed. WVill you come? You had bett'er. Iot                  t
come when I ask you?-Oh! Sir Charles.                     Enter DRUGGET.
[Going.   Drug. Hey! how! what's the matter, Dimity?
Sir C. That ease is so provoKing. I desire -What am I called down stairs for?




SCE I.J    THREE WEEKS AFTER MARRIAGE.                                            293
Dim. WVhy, there's two people of fashion-    Sir C. I wont hear a word.
[Stifles a laugh.   Drug. Not in behalf of my own daughter 
Drug. VWhy, you malapert hussey! explain   M/rs. D. Don't be so hasty, my love; have
this moment.                                some respect for Sir Charles' rank; don't be vioDim. The fond couple have been together by lent with a man of his fashion.
the ears this half hour. Are you satisfied now?  Drug. Hold your tongue, woman, I say; hold
Drug. Ay! what, have they quarrelled? what your tongue. You are not a person of fashion, at
was it about?                               least. My daughter was ever a good girl.
Dim. Something too nice and fine formy com-   Sir C. I have found her out.
prehension, and yours too, I believe. People in    Drug. Oh! then it's all over, and it does not
high life understand their own forms best. And  signify arguing about it.
here comes one that can unriddle the whole affair.   Mrs. D. That ever I should live to see this
[Exit. hour! How the unfortunate girl could take such
Enter SIR CHARLES.              wickedness in her head, I can't imagine. I'll go
hSir C. C To the people within.]  I say, let the and speak to the unhappy creature this moment.
horses be put to this moment. So, Mr. Drugget!                                   [Exit.
Drug. Sir Charles, here's a terrible bustle. I   Sir C. She stands detected now: detected in
did not expect this. What can be the matter?   her truest colours.
Sir C. I have been used by your daughter in    Drug. Well, grievous as it may be, let me
so base, so contemptuous, so vile a manner, that hear the circumstances of this unhappy business.
I am determined not to stay in this house to-night.   Sir C. Mr. Drugget, I have not leisure now.
Drug. This is a thunderbolt to me! after see- Her behaviour has been so exasperating, that I
ing how elegantly and fashionably you lived to- shall make the best of my way to town. My
gether, to find now all sunshine vanished! Do, mind is fixed. She sees me no more, and so,
Sir Charles, let me heal this breach, if possible.   your servant, Sir.           [Exit.
Sir C. Sir, it is impossible. I'll not live with    Drug. What a calamity has here befallen us i
her an hour longer.                          A good girl, and so well disposed! But the evil
Drug. Nay, nay, don't be too hasty. Let me communication of high life, and fashionable vices,
intreat you, go to bed and sleep upon it. In the turned her heart to folly.
morning, when you are coolSir C. Oh, Sir, I am very cool, I assure you.   Enter LADY RACKETT, MRS. DRUGGET, and
Ha! ha!-it is not in her power, Sir, to-a-a —aY
to disturb the serenity of my temper.  Don't   Lady R. A cruel, barbarous man, to quarrel
imagine that I'm in a passion. I am not so easily  in this unaccountable manner; to alarm the whole
ruffled as you imagine. But, quietly and delibe- house, and to expose me and himself too.
rately, I can repay the injury done me by a false,   Mlrs. D. Oh, child! I never thought it would
ungrateful, deceitfil woman.                have come to this.  Your shame will not end
Drug. The injuries done you by a false, un- here; it will be all over St. James' parish by tograteful! My daughter, I hope, Sir-          morrow morning.
Sir C. Her character is now fully known to   Lady R. Well, if it must be so, there is one
me. I understand her per perfectly. She is a vile comfort still; the story will tell more to his dli.
woman! that's all I have to say, Sir!       grace than mine.
Drug. Hey! how!-a vile woman! what has   Dim. As I'm a sinner, and so it will, Madam.
she done? I hope she is not capable-        He deserves what he has met with.
Sir C. I shall enter into no detail, Mr. Drug-   Mrs. D. Dimity, don't you encourage her. Yoa
get. See if the horses are put to.          shock me to hear you speak so. I did not think
Drug. Mercy on me! in my old days to hear you had been so hardened.
this.                                          Lady R. Hardened do you call it? I have
Enter MRS. DRUGGET.              lived in the world to'very little purpose if such
Mrs. D. Deliver me! I am all over in such a trifles as these are to disturb my rest.
tremble. Sir Charles, I shall break my heart if   Mrs. D. You wicked girl! do you call it a trifle
there is any thing amiss.                   to be guilty of falsehood to your husband's bed s
Sir C. Madam, I am very sorry, for your sake;   Lady R. How!-[ Turns short,. and stares
but to live with her is impossible.         at her.] Well, I protest and vow I don't comMIrs. D. My poor dear girl! what can she have prehend all this. Has Sir Charles accused me
done?                                      of any impropriety in my conduct?
Sir C. What all her sex can do: it needs no   Mrs. D. Oh! too true he has: he has found
explanation: the very spirit of them all.    you out, and you have behaved basely, he says.
Drug. Ay! I see how it is.-She is bringing   Lady R. Madam!
foul disgrace upon us. This comes of her marry-   Mrs. D. You have fallen into frailty, like many
ing a man of fashion.                       of your sex, he says;* and he is resolved to come
Sir C. Fashion, Sir, that should have instruct- to a separation directly.
ed her better. She might have been sensible of   Lady R. Why then, if he is so base a wretch
her happiness.  Whatever you may think of the as to dishonour me in that manner, his heart shall
fortune you gave her, my rank in life claims re- ache before I live with him again.
spect; claims obedience, attention, and truth.  Dim. Hold to that, Ma'am, and let his head
Drug. And let me tell you, however you may ache into the bargain.
estimate your quality, my daughter is dear to me.'  Mrs. D. Your poor father heard it as w1ell as k.
Sir C. And, Sir, my character is dear to me.   Lady R. Then let your doors be open for him
It shall never be in her power to expose me.  this very moment; let him return to London.'If
Drug. Yet you must give me leave to tell he does not, I'll lock myself up, and the false one
you-                                        I sha'n't approach me, though he were to whine on
95*




294             THREE WEEKS AFTER MARRIAGE.    [.rT IL
his knt....t my very door. A base, injurious   Mrs. D. Yes, lovey, I am witness.
man!                                 [Exit.   Sir C. Absurd! I said no such thing.
MIrs. D. Dimity, do let us follow, and hear   Drug. But I aver you did.
what she has to say for herself.     [Exit.   Sir C. But I tell you no, positively no.
Dim. She has excuse enough, I warrant her.   Drug. 4. Mirs. D. And- I say, yes, positively
What a noise is here indeed. I have lived in po- yes.
lite families, where there was no such bustle made   Sir C.'Sdeath, this is all madness.
about nothing.                       [Exit.   Drug. You said that she followed the:ways of
most of her sex.
Enter SIR CHARLES and. DRUGGET.          Sir C. I said so, and what then?
Sir C. It is all in vain, Sir, my resolution is   Drug. There; he owns it: owns that he called
taken.                                       himself a cuckold, and without rhyme or reason
Drug. Well, but consider, I am her father. into the bargain.
Indulge me only till we hear what the girl has to   Sir C. I never owned any such thing.
say in her defence.                            Drug. You owned it even now, now, now,
Sir C. She can have nothing to say; no excuse now.
can palliate such behaviour.          -        Mrs. D. This very moment.
Drug. Don't be too positive: there may be    Sir C. No, no; I tell you, no.
some mistake.                                  Drug. This instant. Prove it; make your
* Sir C. No, Sir, no; there can be no mistake. words good; show me your horns, and if you canDid not I see her, hear her myself?         not, it is worse than suicide to call yourself a
Drug. Lack-a-day! then I am an unfortunate cuckold without proof.
man.
Sir C. She will be unfortunate too: with all    Enter DIMiTY, in afit rf laughter.
my heart. She may thank herself.  She might   Dim. What do you think it was all about!
have been happy, had she been so disposed.  Ha! ha! the whole secret is come out, ha, ha! It
Drug. Why truly, I think she might.       was all about a game of cards. Ho, ho, ho!
Mas~. DRUGGET.        Drug. A game of cards!
Enter MRS. DRUGGET.                Dim. [Laughing.] It was all about a club and
Mrs. D. I wish you would moderate your a diamond.                     [Exit, laughing.
anger a little, and let us talk over this affair with   Drug. And was that all, Sir Charles 1
temper. My daughter denies every tittle of your   Sir C. And enough too, Sir.
charge.                                       Drug; And was that what you found her out
Sir C. Denies it! denies it!            in?
h4,s. D. She does, indeed.                  Sir C. I can't bear to be contradicted, when l
Sir C. And that aggravates her fault.     am clear that I am in the right.
Mrs. D. She vows that you never found her   Drug. I never heard of such a heap of nonout in any thing that was wrong.            sense in all my life. Woodley shall marry Nancy.
Sir C. She does not allow it to be wrong then?-   ]iMrs. D. Don't be in a hurry, my love, this will
Madam, I tell you again, I know her thoroughly. all be made up.
I have found her out: I am now acquainted with   Drug. Why does he not go and beg her parher character. I am to be deceived no more.  don then?
-Mrs. D. Then you are in opposite stories. She    Sir C. I beg her pardon! I wont debase myswears, my dear Mr. Drugget, the poor girl self to any of you. I sha'n't forgive her, you may
swears, she never was guilty of the smallest infi- rest assured.                  [Exit.
delity in her born days.                       Drug. Now, there, there's a pretty fellow for
Sir C. And what then? What if she does you!
say so?                *                       Mrs. D. I'll step and prevail on my Lady
3MIrs. D. And if she says truly, it is hard her Rackett to speak to him: all this will be set right.
character should be blown upon without just                                       [Exit.
cause.                                        Drug. A ridiculous fop! I am glad it is no
Sir C. And is she therefore to behave ill in worse, however.-He must go and talk scandal
other respects?. I never charged her with infi- of himself, as if the town did not abound with
delity to me, Madam; there I allow her innocent. people ready enough to take that trouble off his
Drug. And did not you charge her then 2   hands.
Sir C. No, Sir, I never dreamt of such a thing.
Drug.:Why then, if she is innocent, let me
tell you, you are a scandalous person.        Drug. So, Nancy,-you seem: in confusion,
Mrs. D. Pr'ythee, my dear-                my girl!
1Drug. Be quiet: though he is a man of quality,   Nan. How can one help it, with all -this noise
I will tell him of it. Did not I fine for sheriff —  in the house? And you are going to marry me
Yes, you are: a scandalous person to defame an as ill as my sister. 1 hate Mr. Lovelace!
honest man's daughter.                         Drug. Why so, child?
Sir C. What have you taken into your head _Nan. I know these people of quality despise us
now?                                        all out of pride, and would be glad to marry us
Drug You charged her with falsehood to your out of avarice.
bed.                                           Drug. The girl's right.
Sir C. No, never, never.                    Nan.: They marry one woman, live with anoDrug  I say, you did.                     ther, and love only themselves.
Sir C. And I say, no, no.                   Drug. And then quarrel about a card.
Drug. But I say, you did; you called yourself   Nan. I don't want to be a gay lady. I want to
cuckold. Did not he, wife  be happy.




SCENE:II.J    T:H:REEI WEEKS A FTER MARRIAGE.                                      295
D —Drug. And-so you shall: don't frighten your- stairs? Is this absurd quarrel at an end? Have
self, child.  Step to your sister, bid her make' they made it up?
hlerself easy; go, and comfort her, go.        Love. Oh! a mere bagatelle, Sir; these little
Nan. Yes, Sir.                     [Exit. fracas never last long, as you see; for here they.-:.Drug.: I'll step and settle the matter with Mr.: come, in perfect good humour.
Woodley, this moment...        -.-..Ext      v
Woodley,.this moment.:'[        ~:LEX nter SIR CHARLES RACKETT and LADY
SCENE II.-Another Apartment.                            RACKETT.: Sir C. Mr. Drugget, I embrace you; you see
SIR CHARLES, with a pack of cards, at a table.  me in the most perfect harmony of spirits.
Sir C. Never, was any thing like her behaviour.   Drug. What, all reconciled again?
I can pick out the very cards I had in my hand,   Lady R. All made up, Sir. 1 knew how to
and then'tis as plain as the sun.-There-there  bring the gentleman to a sense of his duty. This
— now-there-no-damn it-there it was-now  is the first difference, I think, we ever had, Sir
let me see; they had four by honours, and we Charles.
played for the odd trick,-damnation! honours   Sir C. And I'll be sworn it shall be the last.
were divided-ay!-honours were divided, and    Drug. I am happy, now, as happy as a fond
then a trump was led, and the other side had the father can wish. Sir Charles, I can spare you an
-confusion!-this preposterous woman has put image to put on the top of your house in London.
it all out of my head. [Puts the cards into his   Sir C. Infinitely obliged to you.
vocket.] Mighty well, Madam; I have done with    Drug. Well, well, it's time to retire: I am
you                                        - glad to see you reconciled; and now I wish you a
Enter MRS. DRUGGET.              good night, Sir Charles. Mr. Lovelace, this is
your way.  Fare ye well both. I am glad your
Mrs. D. Sir Charles, let me prevail. Come quarrels areatan end: this way, Mr. Lovelace.
with me and speak to her.                                       [Ezeunt DRUG. and LOVE.
Sir C. I don't desire to see her face.       Lady R. Ah t you are a sad man, Sir Charles,
Mrs. D. If you were to see her all bathed in to behave to me as you have done.
tears, I am sure it would melt your very heart.  Sir C. Myd(ear, I grant it: and such an absurd
Sir C. Madam, it shall be my fault if ever I quarrel too-ha, ha!
am treated so again. I'll have nothing to say to   Lady R. Yes, ha, ha!-about such a trifle.
her.-[ Going, stops.] Does she give up-the point?   Sir C. It is pleasant how we could both fall.Mrs. D. She does, she agrees to any thing.   intosuchan error. Ha, ha!
Sir C. Does she allow that the club was the   Lady R. Ridiculous beyond expression; ha, ha!
play?                                         Sir- C. And then the mistake your father and
Mrs. D. Just as you:please;:she. is all submis- mother fell into.
sion.                                          Lady R. That too is a diverting part of the
Sir C. Does she own that the club was not the  tory. I-IHa, ha!-But, Sir Charles, must I stay
best in the house?                          and live with my father till I grow as fantastical
AIrs. D. She does; she is willing to own it.   as his evergreens?:Sir C. Then I'll step and speak to her. I   Sir C. Nay, prithee don't remind me of my
never was clearer in any thing in my life. [Exit. folly.
Mrs. D. Lord love'em, they'll make it up now,   Lady R. Ah! my relations were all standing
and then they'll be as happy as ever.    [Exit. behind *counters, selling Whitechapel needles,
Enter. NANCY.                while your family were spending great estates.
Sir C. Spare my blushes; you see I am covered
Nan. Well! they may talk what they will of with confusion.
taste, and genteel life; I don't think it is natural.   Lady R. How could you say so indelicate a
Give me Mr. Woodley. —La! that odious thing is thing? I don't love you.
coming this way.                               Sir C. It was indelicate, I grant it.
Enter LOVELACE.                  Lady R. Am I a vile woman?
Love. My charming little innocent, I have not   Sir C. How can you, my angel?
seen you these three hours.                   Lady R. I sha'n't forgive you. I'll have you
Nan. I have been very happy these three hours. n your knees for this. [Sings and plays with
Love.- My sweet angel, you seem disconcerted, him.]  "Go, naughty man."-h, Sir Charles 
and you neglect   r prettfigure. No matter,   Sir C. The rest of my life shall aim at convincing you how sincerely I love you.
for the present; in a little time I. shall make you
appear as graceful and as genteel as your sister.  Lady R. [ngs]  Go, naughty man, I can't
an. That is nothat employs -de you." Well, come, let us go to rest. [Going.]
iva.  Taisntwaemly.mytogsAh, Sir Charles, now it's all over, the diamond
Love. Ay! but- my prettylittle dear, that should was the plaB
engage your attention. To set off and adorn that one
charms that nature has given you, should be the speak, it was the club indeed.
business of your life.                        Lady R. Indeed, my love, you are mistaken.
Nan. But as I have something else to do, you'll   Sir C. You make me laugh; but I was not
excuse my leaving you.                [Exit. mistaken; rely upon my judgment.
Lady R. You may rely upo' mine; you was
Love. I must have her, notwithstanding this;. You may rely                ine you 
for though I am not in love, I am most confound- wrong.
edly in ebt.                                   Sir C. [Laughing.] Po! no, no, no such thing.
Lady R. [Laughing.] But I say, yes, yes, yes.
Enter DRUGGET.                   Sir C. Oh! no, no; it is too ridiculous; don't
Drug. So, Mr. Lovelace! any news from above say any more about it, my love.




296             THREE WEEKS AFTER MARRIAGE.    Acr O1I
Lady R. [Toying with him.] Don't you say    Sir C. Now then, I tell you once more, you
any more about it; you had better give it up, you are a vile woman.
had indeed.                                    Lady R. Don't make me laugh again, Sir
Enter FOOTMAN.                 Charles.                  [Walks and sings.,Foot. Your honou~r's cap and slippers.      Sir C. Hell and the devil! Will you sit down
Sir C. Lay down my cap, and here take these quietly and let me convince you?
shoes off: [He takes them of, and leaves them at   Lady R. I don't choose to hear any more
a distance.] Indeed, my Lady Rackett, you make about it.
me ready to expire with laughing. Ha, ha  Sir C Why then may I perish if ever-a
Lady R. You may laugh, but I am right not- blockhead, an idiot, I was to marry. [Walks
withstanding.                               about.] Such provoking impertinence! [She sits
Sir C. How can you say so?               down.]  Damnation! I am so clear in the thing.
Lady R. How can you say otherwise?        She is not worth my notice. [Sits down, turns
Sir C. Well, now mind me, Lady Rackett, we his back, and looks uneasy.]  I'll take no more
can  now talk of this in good humour; we can pains about it. [Pauses for some time, then looks
discuss it coolly.                          at her.] Is it not strange, that you wont hear me?
Lady R. So we can, and it is for that reason I   Ladv R. Sir, I am very ready to hear you.
venture to speak to you. Are these the ruffles I   Sir ('. Very well then, very well; you remembought for you?                             her how the game stood.
Sir C. They are, my dear.                                    [Draws his chair near her
Lady R. They are very pretty. But, indeed, Iit La    I wish you would untie my necklace,
you played the card wrong.                    hurts me.
Sir C. No, no, listen to me; the affair was      C Why can't you listen?
thus: Mr. Jenkins having never a club left-    Lady R. I tell you it hurts me terribly.
Lady R. Mr. Jenkins finessed the club.       Sir C. Death and confusion! [Moves his chair
Sir C. [Peevishly.] How can you?2         araway.]-There is no bearing this. [Looks at her
Lady R. And trumps being all out-         angrily.] It wont take a moment, if you will but
listen. [Moves towards her.] Can't you see.
Sir C. And we playing for the odd trick-  listen. [Moves towards her.]  Can't you see
Lady R. If you had minded your game-      that, by forcing the adversary's hand, Mr. Jenkins
Sir C. And the club being the best-       would be obliged toLady R. If you had led your diamond-        Lady R. [Mloving her chair awayfram him.]
Sir C. Mr. Jenkins would, of course put on a Mr. Jenkins had the best club, and never a dia~~~~~~~spade.'                  ~mond left.
spadey.   And so theodd trick was sure.    Sir C. [Rising.] Distraction! Bedlam is not
Lady R.. And so the-odd trick was sure.   s
Sir C. Damnation! will you let. me speakq  so mad. Be as wrong as you please, Madam.
Lady R. Very well, Sir, fly out again.    May I never hold four by honours, may I lose
Sir C. Look here now; here is a pack of cards. every thing I play for, may fortune eternally for-Now you shall be convinced.                sake me, if I endeavour to set you right again.
Lady R. You may talk till to-morrow, I know                                      Exit.
I am right.                   [Walks about. Enter MR. and MRS. DRUGGET, WOODLEY, and
Sir C. Why then, by all that's perverse, you                NANCY.
are the most headstrong-Can't you look here?
here are the very cards.                       Mrs. D. Gracious! what's the matter now?
Lady R. Go on; you'll find it out at last.   Lady R. Such another man does not exist. I
Sir C. Will you hold your tongue. or not? did not say a word to the gentleman, and yet he
will you let me show you?-Po! it is all non- has been raving about the room, and stormillng
sense. [Puts up the cards.] Come, let us go to like A whirlwind.
bed. [Going.] Only stay one moment. [Takes   Drug. And about a club. again! I heard it
out the cards.] Now command yourself, and you all.-Come hither, Nancy; Mr. Woodley, she is
shall have demonstration.                   yours for life.
Lady R. It does not signify, Sir. Your head  lMrs. D. My dear, how can you be so paswill be clearer in the morning. I choose to go to sionate?
bed.                                          Drug. It shall be so. Take her for life, Mr.
Sir C. Stay and hear me, can't you?      Woodley.
Lady R. No; my head aches. I am tired of   Wood. My whole life shall be devoted to her
the subject.                                happiness.
Sir C. Why then damn the cards. There,   Drug. Mr. Woodley, I recommend my girl to
and there, and there. [Throwing them about your care. 1 shall have nothing now to think of,
the room.] You may go to bed by yourself. Con- but my greens, and my images, and my shrubbery.
fusion seize me if I stay here to be tormented a -Though, mercy on all married folks, say I; for
moment longer.         [Putting on his shoes. these wranglings are, 1 am afraid, what they must
Lady R. Take your own way, Sir.           all come to.                       [Exeunt.




CAT O:
A T RAG ED Y,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY JOSEPH ADDISON.
REMARKS.
Envy itself is dumb, in wonder lost,
And factions strive who shall applaud hi,! most.
POPE, writing to Sir W. Trumbull, has well applied these words of our author, (on some other occasion,) to this
tragedy, in allusion to the endeavours of both whigs and tories of that period, to make it a party-play. So many
presents were made by both parties to Mr. Booth, (who played Cato,) that Dr. Garth is recorded to have said,
"'Tis probable that Cato may have something to live on after he dies."-It is certain, however, that this excellent
dramatic poemderived, from empassioned politics, much of the enthusiastic admiration which graced its earlier
performance.-The deficiency of dramatic business is scarcely balanced by the poetical beauties of the diction
and the noble sentiments of liberty that adorn it throughout. Tile characters, though strongly depicted, fail to
excite either solicitude or affection; " But, (as the great moralist observes,) they are made the vehicles of such
sentiments and such expression, that there is scarcely a scene in the play which the reader does not wish to impress
on his memory."-Johnson.
In our own day, the virtuous and dignified Roman has been so transcendantly pourtrayed by Mr. Kemble, that
Cato and his little senate have never failed to interest the public and reward the managers.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
DRURY LANE, 1713.                    COVENT GARDEN, 1816.
CATO,..................Mr Booth........Mr. Kemble.
PORTIUS,................... Mr. Powell...                         Mr. Abbott.
MARCUS,..................    M. Ryan......................... Mr. Hamerton
SEMPRONIUS,..                  Mr. Mills........                  Mr. Barrymore.
JUBA,....                      Mr. Wilks........................Mr. Conway.
SYPHAX.....Mr. Cibber.........................Mr. Egerton.
LUCIUS....M.....................r. Keen.........................Mr. Murrav
DECs........................Mr. Bowman.......      Mr. Cresweli.
JUN1US,..........Mr. King
LUCIA,....                    Mrs. Cibber.........Miss S. Booth.
MARCIA................... Mrs. Mills............... M.........rs. Egerton.
Mutineers, Guards, &c.
SCENE.-The Governor's Palace, in Utica.
PROLOGUE.                        For this, the tragic muse first trod the stage,
Commanding tears to stream through every age;
WRITTEN BY MR. POPE.                 Tyrants no more their savage nature kept,
And foes to virtue wonder'd how they wept.
To wake the soul by tender strokes of art,       Our author shuns by vulgar springs to move
To raise the genius, and to mend the heart;      The hero's glory or the virgin's love;
To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold,       In pitying love we but our weakness show,
Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold:   And wild ambition well deserves its wo.
VOL. I....2P                                                                        29,




298                                    CATO.                                        [ACT 1.
Here tears shall flow from a more gen'rous cause, Break out, and bum with more triumphant bright
Such tears as patriots shed for dying laws:             ness!                         [him;
He bids your breasts with ancient ardour rise,    His sufferings shine, and spread a glory round
And calls forth Romam drops from British eyes.  Greatly unfortunate, he fights the cause
Virtue confess'd, in human shape he draws,     Of honour, virtue, liberty, and Rome.
What Plato thought and godlike Cato was:      / Marc. Who knows not this 2  But what can
No common object to your sight displays,                Cato do
But what with pleasure Heaven itself surveys;   Against a world, a base, degen'rate world,
A brave man struggling in the storms of fate,  That courts the yoke and bows the neck to Ciesar?
And greatly falling in a falling state!        Pent up in Utica, he vainly forms
While Cato gives his little Senate laws,       A poor epitome of Roman greatness,
What bosom beats not in his country's cause?    And, cover'd with Numidian guards, directs
Who sees him act, but envies every deed?      A feeble army and an empty senate;
Who hears him groan, and does not wish to bleed? Remnants of mightv battles fought in vain.
E'en when proud Cwesar,'midst triumphal cars,   By Heaven, such virtues, join'd with such success,
The spoils of nations, and the pomp of wars,   Distract my very soul! our father's fortune
Ignobly vain, and impotently great,            Would almost tempt us to renounce his precepts.
Show'd Rome her Cato's figure drawn in state.    Por. Remember what our father oft has told us:
As her dead father's rev'rend image past,      The ways of Heaven are dark and intricate;
The pomp was darken'd and the day o'ercast,    Puzzled in mazes, and perplex'd with errors,
The triumph ceas'd-tears gush'd from every eye, Our understanding traces them in vain,
The world's great victor pass'd unheeded by:-    Lost and bewilder'd in the fruitless search;
Her last good man dejected Rome ador'd,        Nor sees with how'much art the windings run.
And honour'd Cuesar's, less than Cato's sword.;  Nor where the regular confusion ends.
Britons, attend; be worth like this approv'd,  Marc. These are suggestionsofamind atease.And show you have the virtue to be mov'd.      Oh, Portius, didst thou taste but half the griefs
With honest scorn the first fam'd Cato view'd:  That wring my soul, thou couldst not talk thus
Rome learning arts from Greece,whom she subdu'd.- Passion unpitied, and successless love,   [coldly.
Our scenes precariously subsist too long       Plant daggers in my heart, and aggravate
On French translation and Italian song:        My other griefs.-Were but my Lucia kindDare to have sense yourselves; assert the stage;    Por. Thou seest not that thy brother is thy
Be iustly warm'd with your own native rage:            rival;
-Such plays alone should please a British ear,,    But I must hide-it, for i know thy temper. [Aside.
As Cato's self had not disdain'd to hear.      Now, Marcus, now thy virtue's on the proof,
Put forth thy utmost strength, work-every nerve,
And call up all thy father ln thy soul:ACT I.                      To quell the tyrant Love, and guard thy heart
On this weak side, where most our nature fails,
SCENE 1.-A Hall.                  Would be a conquest worthy Cato's son.
Enter PORTIUS ad MARCUS.                 Marc. Alas, the counsel which I cannot take,
Instead of healing, but upbraids my weakness.
Por. The dawn is overcast, the morning lowers, Love is not to be reason'd down, or lost
And heavily in clouds brings on the day,       In high ambition and a thirst of greatness;
The great, th' important day, big with the fate'Tis second life, that grows into the soul,
Of Cato and of Rome;   our father's death      Warms every vein, and beats in every pulse:
Would fill up all the guilt of civil war,      I feel it here: my resolution meltsAnd close the scene of blood. Already Cwesar    FPor. Beholdyoung Juba, the Numidian prince,
Has ravag'd more than -half the globe, and sees   With how much care he forms himself to glory,
Mankind grown thin by his destructive sword:   And breaks the fierceness of his native temper,
Should he go farther, numbers would be wanting  To copy out our father's bright example.
To form new battles, and support his crimes.  He loves our sister Marcia, greatly loves her;
Ye gods, what havoc does ambition make        His eyes, his looks, his actions, all -betray it;
Among your works!                             But still the smother'd fondness burns within
M1Iarc. Thy steady temper, Portius,                  him;
Can look on guilt, rebellion, fraud, and Cwsar,   When most it. swells, and. labours for: a vent,
In the calm lights of mild philosophy;.- -. The sense of honour,. and desire of fame,
I'm tortur'd e'en to madness, when I think,    Drive the big passion back into his heart.
On the proud victor: every time he's nam'd     What, shall an African, shall Juba's heir,
Pharsalia rises to mv view -I see             Reproach great Cato's son, and show the world
Th' insulting tyrant, prancing o'er the field  A virtue wanting in a Roman soul?
Strew'd with Rome's citizens, and drench'd in  Mllarc. Portius, no more! your words leave
slaughter;                                     stings behind them.
His horses' hoofs wet with patrician blood!    Whene'er did Juba, or did Portius show
Oh, Portius! is not there some chosen curse,    A virtue that had cast me at a distance,
Some. hidden thunder; in the stores of Heaven,   And thrown me out in the pursuits of honour?
Red with-uncommon wrath, to blast the man        Por. Oh, Marcus! did I know the way to ease
Who owes his greatness to his country's ruin?   Thy troubled -heart, and.mitigate. thy pains,
Por. Believe me, Marcus,'tis an impious great- Marcus, believe me, I could die to do it.
ness,:               Marc. Thou best of brothers, and thou best of
And mix'd with too much horror to be envied.            friends!
How does the lustre of our father's actions,   Pardon a weak, distemper'd, soul, that swells
Through the dark clouds of ills that cover him,   With sudden gusts, and sinks as soon in calms




SCENE I.]                              C AT 0.                                     299
rhe sport of passions. But Sempronius comes:                Enter SYPI-IAX.
-ie must not find this softness hanging on me.
[Exit.    Syph. Sempronius, all is ready;
I've sounded my Numidians, man byaman,
Enter SEMPRONIUS.               And find them ripe for a revolt: they all
Seem. Conspiracies no sooner should be form'd Complain aloud of Catoes discipline,
Than executed. What- means Portius here 7    And wait but the command to change their master
l -like not that cold youth. I must dissemble;   em. Believe me, Syphax, there's no time to
And speak a language foreign to my heart. [Aside.  waste:
Good  orrow, Portius let us once embrac   Even while we speak, our conqueror comes on,
G-ood morrow, Portius; let us once embrace,
And gathers ground upon us every moment.
once more embrace, while yet we both are free. nd
To-morrow, should we thus express our friend- Alas! thou know'st not Cesar's active soul
ship,                         -   With what a dreadful course he rushes on
Each might receive a slave into his arms     From war to war. In vain has nature form'd
This sun, perhaps, this morning sun's the last'   Mountains and oceans to oppose his passage;
That e'er shall rise on Roman liberty.       He bounds o'er all;
Por. My father has this morning call'd together One day more
To this poor hall, his little Roman senate,  Will set the victor thund'ring at our gates.
(The leavings of Pharsalia,) to consult     But, tell me, hast thou yet drawn o'er young J uba?
If he can yet oppose the mighty torrent      That still would recommend thee more to Caesar,
That bears down Rome and all her gods before it, And challenge better terms.
Or must at length give up the world to Caesar.  Syph. Alas! he's lost!
Sem. Not all the pomp and majesty of Rome  He's lost, Sempronius; all his thoughts are full
Can raise her senate more than Cato's presence.  Of Cato's virtues-But I'l try once more
His virtues render our assembly awful,      k(For every instant I expect him here,)
They strike with something like religious fear,    fyet Ican subdue those stubborn principles
And make even Caesar tremble, at the head      f faith and honour, and I know not what
Of armies flush'd with conquest. Oh, my Portius  That have corrupted his Numidian temper,
Could I but call that wondrous man my father,   And struck th' infection into all his soul.
Sem. Be sure to tress upon him every motive.
To thy friend's vows, I might be bless'd indeed  Juba's surrender, since his father's death,
Por. Alas, Sempronius! wouldst thou talk of Would give up Afric into Cesar's hands
loeve                       - > - -    And make him lord of half the burning zone.
To Marcia, whilst her father's life's in danger  Syph. But is it true, Sempronius, that your
Thou might'st as well court the pale, trembling       senate
vestal,                       -      Is call'd together? Gods! thou must be cautious:
When she beholds the holy flame expiring.    Cato has piercing eyes, and will discern
Sem;. The moreI see the wonders of thy race, Our frauds, unless they're cover'd thick with art.
The more I'm charm'd.  Thou must take heed,   Sem. Let me alone, good Syphax, I'll conceal
my Portius;                          My thoughts in passion ('tis the surest way;)
The world has all its eyes on Cato's son;-   I'll bellow out for Rome, and for my country,
Thy father's' merit sets thee up to view,-   And mouth at Caesar, till I shake the senate.
And shows thee in the fairest point oflight,  Your cold hypocrisy's a stale device,  [earnest,
To make thy virtues or thy faults conspicuous.   A. worn-out trick: wouldst thou be thought in
Por. Well dost thou seem to check my lingring Clothe thy feign'd zeal in rage, in fire, in fury!
* here                                 Syphl. In troth, thou'rt able toinstruct gray hairs,
On this important hour.-I'll straight away,  And teach the wily African deceit.
And while the fathers of the senate meet       Sern. Once more, be sure td try thy skill on Juba
In close debate, to weigh th' events of war,  Meanwhile I'll hasten to my Roman soldiers,
I'll animate the soldiers' drooping courage  Inflame the mutiny, and, underhand,
With love of freedom, and contempt of life;  Blow up their discontents, till they break out
I'll thunder in their ears their country's cause, nook'd for, and discharge themselves on Cato.
And try to rouse up all that's Roman in them. emember  yphax we must work in haste'Tis not in mortals to command success, -    Oh, think what anxious moments pass between
But we'll do more,Sempronius; we'll deserve it.  The birth of plots, and their last fatal periods!
— [Exit.  Oh,'tis a dreadful interval of time
Ser'. -Curse on the stripling!  hov he apes his Fill'd up with horror all, and big with death!'sire!''             Destruction hangs on every word we speak,
Ambitiously sententious.-But I wonder        On every thought, till the concluding stroke
Old Syphax comes not' his Numidian genius    Determines all, and closes our design.   [Exit.
Is well dispos'd to mischief, were he prompt   Syph. I'll try if yet I can reduce to reason
An eager on it but he must e sprr'dThis headstrong youth, and make him spurn at
And eager on it; but he niust b'e spurr'd,           Cato.
And every moment quicken'd to the course.                 Cato.
Cato has us'd me ill;  he has refus'd''    BThe time is short; Cuesar comes rushing on us —
His daughter Marcia to my ardent vows.       But hold! young. Juba sees me, and approaches!
Besides, his baffled arms and ruin'd cause
Are bars to my ambition. Caesar's favour,
That showers down greatness on his friends, will  Juba. Syphax, I joy to meet thee thus alone.
raise me                             I have observ'd of late thy looks are fallen,
To Rome's first honours. If I give' up Cato,    O'ercast with gloomy cares and discontent;
I claim, in my reward, his captive daughter.  Then tell me, Syphax, [ conjure thee, tell me,
But Syphax comes —                           What are the thoughts that knit thy brow in frowns,




300                                    C A T O.                                  [ACT I.
And turn thine eye thus coldly on thy prince 1  Juba. Syphax, I should be more than twice an
Syph.'Tis not my talent to conceal my thoughts,   orphan,
Or carry smiles and sunshine in my face,     By such a loss.
When discontent sits heavy at my heart;        Syph. Ay, there's the tie that binds you!
I have not yet so much the Roman in me.      You long to call him father. Marcia's charms
Juba. Why dost thouf cast out such ungener- Work in your heart unseen, and plead for Cato.
ous terms                           No wonder you are deaf to all I say.
Against the lords and sov'reigns of the world?  Juba. Syphax, your zeal becomes importunate;
Dost thou not see mankind fall down before them, I've hitherto permitted it to rave,
And own the force of their superior virtue?  And talk at large; but learn to keep it in.
Syph. Gods! Where's the worth that sets Lest it should take more freedom than I'll give it.
these people up                        Syph. Sir, your great father never us'd me thus.
Above your own Numidia's tawny sons?        Alas, he's dead! but can you e'er forget
Do they with tougher sinews bend the bow?    The tender sorrows,
Or flies the jav'lin swifter to its mark,    And repeated blessings,
Launch'd from the vigour of a Roman arm?     Which you drew from him in your last farewell?
Who like our active African instructs        The good old king, at parting, wrung my hand;
The fiery steed, and trains him to his hand?  (His eyes brim full of fears,) then, sighing, cried,
Or guides in troops th' embattled elephant,  Pr'ythee, be careful of my son!-His grief
Laden with war?  These, these, are arts, my Swell'd up so high, he could not utter more.
prince,                               Juba. Alas! thy story melts away my soul!
In which your Zama does not stoop to Rome.    That best of fathers! how shall I discharge
Juba. These all are virtues of a meaner rank; The gratitude and duty that I owe him?
Perfections that are plac'd in bones and nerves.  Syph. By laying up his counsels in your heart.
A Roman soul is bent on higher views,          Juba. His counsels bade me yield to thy diTo make man mild, and sociable to man;               rection.                     [safety.
To cultivate the wild, licentious, savage,     S'yph. Alas! my prince, I'd guide you to your
And break our fierce barbarians into men.      Juba. I do believe thou wouldst: but tell me
Turn up thy eyes to Cato;                            how.                           [foes.
There may'st thou see to what a godlike height    Syph. Fly from the fate that follows Cwesar's
The Roman virtues lift up mortal man.          Juba. My father scorn'd to do it.
While good, and just, and anxious for his friends.   Syph. And therefore died.
He's still severely bent against himself:      Juba. Better to die ten thousand thousand
And when his fortune sets before him all     Than wound my honour.                [deaths,
The pomps and pleasures that his soul can wish,   Syph. Rather say, your love.   [temper.
His rigid virtue will accept of none.  [can    Juba. Syphax, I've promis'd to preserve my
Syph. Believe me, prince, there's not an Afri- Why wilt thou urge me to confess a flame
That traverses our vast Numidian deserts     I long have stifled, and would fain conceal?
In quest of prey, and lives upon his bow,      Syph. Believe me, prince, though hard to conBut better practises those boasted virtues.          quer love,
Coarse are his meals, the fortune of the chase;'Tis easy to divert and break its force.
Amidst the running streams he slakes his thirst; Absence might cure it, or a second mistress
Toils all the day, and at th' approach of night,   Light up another flame, and put out this.
On the first friendly bank he throws him down,  The glowing dames of Zama's royal court
Or rests his head upon a rock till morn;     Have faces flush'd with more exalted charms;
Then rises fresh, pursues his wonted game;   Were you with these, my prince, you'd soon forge'
And if the following day he chance to find   The pale, unripen'd beauties of the north.
A new repast, or an untasted spring,           Juba.'Tis not a set of features, or complexion
Blesses his stars, and thinks it luxury.     The tincture of a skin, that I admire:
Juba. Thy prejudices, Syphax, wont discern   Beauty soon grows familiar to the lover,
What virtues grow from ignorance and choice,   Fades in his eye, and palls upon his sense.
Nor how the hero differs from the brute.     The virtuous Marcia towers above her sex:
Where shall we find the man that bears affliction, True, she is fair, (oh, how divinely fair!)
Great and majestic in his griefs, like Cato?  But still the lovely maid improves her charms
How does he rise against a load of woes,     With inward -g~tatness, unaffected wisdom,
And thank the gods that threw the weight upon  And sanctity of manners; Cato's soul
him!                                Shines out in every thing she acts or speaks,
Syph.'Tis pride, rank pride, and haughtiness While winning mildness and attractive smiles
of soul;                            Dwell in her looks, and, with becoming grace,
I think the Romans call it stoicism.         Soften the rigour of her father's virtue.
Had not your royal father thought so highly    Syph. How does your tongue grow wanton in
Of Roman virtue, and of Cato's cause,                her praise!
He had not fall'n by a slave's hand inglorious;   But, on my knees, I beg you would considerNor would his slaughter'd armies now have lain    Juba. Ha! Syphax, is't not she?-She moves
On Afric's sands, disfigur'd with their wounds,      this way,
To gorge the wolves and vultures of Numidia.   And with her Lucia, Lucius' fair daughter.
Juba. Why dost thou call my sorrows up  My heart beats thick-I pr'ythee, Syphax, leave
afresh?                                     me.                           [both!
My father's name brings tears into my eyes.    Syph. Ten thousand curses fasten on them
~lyph. Oh, that you'd profit by your father's ills! Now will the woman, with a single glance,
Juba. What wouldst thou have me do?        Undo what I've been lab'ring all this while.
Syph. Abandon Cato.                                                              [Exit.




IENE I.]                               CAT O.                                         301
Enter MARCIA and LUCIA.                Marcia. Alas, poor youth I
How will thy coldness raise
Juba. Hail, charming maid! how does thy  Tempests and storms in his afflicted bosom 
beauty smooth                         1 dread the consequence.
The face of war, and make even horror smile!   Lucia. You seem to plead
At sight of thee my heart shakes off its sorrows; Against your brother Portius.
I feel a dawn of joy break in upon me,          _Marcia. Lucia, no:
And for awhile forget th' approach of Casar.  Had Portius been the unsuccessful lover,
Marcia. I should be griev'd, young prince, to The same compassion would have fallen on him.
think my presence                      Lucia. Portius himself oft falls in tears before
Unbentyour thoughts, and slacken'd them to arms, As if he mourn'd his rival's ill success;    [me.
While, warm with slaughter, our victorious foe   Then bids me hide the motions of my heart,
Threatens aloud, and calls you to the field.  Nor show which way it turns: so much he fears
Juba. Oh, Marcia, let me hope thy kind con- The sad effect that it will have on Marcus.
cerns                                Was ever virgin love distress'd like mine.
And gentle wishes follow me to battle!         Marcia. Let us not, Lucia, aggravate our sorThe thought will give new vigour to my'arm,           rows,
And strength and weight to my descending sword, But to the gods submit th' event of things.
And drive it in a tempest on the foe.         Our lives, discolour'd with our present woes,
Mlarcia. My prayers and wishes always shall May still grow bright, and smile with happier
attend                                        hours.                        [stains
The friends of Rome, the glorious cause of virtue,   So the pure, limpid stream, when foul with
And men approv'd of by the gods and Cato.     Of rushing torrents and descending rains,
Juba. That Juba may deserve thy pious cares, Works itself clear, and, as it runs, refines,
I'll gaze for ever on thy godlike father,     Till, by degrees, the floating mirror shines,
Transplanting, one by one, into my life,      Reflects each flower that on the border grows,
His bright perfections, till I shine like him.  And a new heaven in its fair bosom shows.
Ml/larcia. My father never, at a time like this,                                [Exeunt.
Would lay out his great soul in words, and waste
Such precious moments.                                          ACT II.
Juba. Thy reproofs are just'
Thou virtuous maid: I'll hasten to my troops,
And fire their languid souls with Cato's virtue,   Flourish; SEMPRONIUS, LUcius, and Senators
If e'er 1 lead them to the field, when all                     discovered.
The war shall stand rang'd in its just array
And dreadful pomp, then will I think on thee.   Sem. Rome still survives in this assembled
Oh, lovely maid! then will I think on thee;           senate.
And in the shock of charging hosts, remember   Let us remember we are Cato's friends,
What glorious deeds should grace the man, who And act like men who claim that glorious title.
hopes                                                                  [Trumpets.
For Marcia's love.                    [Exit.   Luc. Hark! he comes.
Lucia. Marcia, you're too severe:
How could you chide the young, good-natur'dTrumpets. Enter  TORT    andMARC
prince,                                 Cato. Fathers,we once again are met in council;
And drive him from you with so stern an air;    Caesar's approach has summon'd us together,
A prince that loves and dotes on you to death?   And Rome attends her fate from our resolves.
Mliarcia. How, Lucia! wouldst thou have me How shall we treat this bold, aspiring man.
sink away                            Success still follows him, and backs his crimes;
In pleasing dreams, and lose myself in love,  Pharsalia gave him Rome, Egypt has since
When every moment Cato's life's at stake?    Receiv'd his yoke, and the whole Nile is Caesar's.
Lucia. Why, have not I this constancy of mind, Why should I mention J uba's overthrow,
Who have so many griefs to try its force?    And Scipio's death l Numidia's burning sands
Sure, nature form'd me of her softest mould;  Still smoke with blood.'Tis time we should
Enfeebled all my soul with tender passions,           decree
And sunk me e'en below my own weak sex-:      What course to take. Our foe, advances on us,
Pity and love, by turns, oppress my heart.    And envies us even Libya's sultry deserts.
Marcia. Lucia, disburden all thy cares on me, Fathers, pronounce your thoughts: are they still
And let me share thy most retir'd distress.   To hold it out, and fight it to the last?    [fix'd
Tell me, who raises up this conflict in thee?  Or are your hearts subdu'd at length, and wrought,
Lucia. I need not blush to name them, when I By time and ill success, to a submission?
tell thee                            Sempronius, speak.
They're Marcia's brothers, and the sons of Cato.   Sem. My voice is still for war.
Marcia. But tell me whose. address thou fa- Gods! can a Roman senate long debate
vour'st most?                       Which of the two to choose, slav'ry or death 1
I long to know, and yet 1 dread to hear it.   No; let us rise at once, gird on our swords,
Lucia. Suppose'twere Portius, could you blame And, at the head of our remaining troops,
my choice? q-                        Attack the foe, break through the thick array
Oh, Portius, thou hast stolen away my soul!   Of his throng'd legions, and charge home upon
Marcus is over warm; his fond complaints              him.
Have so much earnestness and passion in them,  Perhaps some arm, more lucky than the rest,
I hear him with a secret kind, of horror,     May reach his heart, and free the worid from
And tremble at his vehemence of temper.               bondage.
26




302                                     CATO.                                        LACT IL
Rise, fathers, rise!'tis Rome. demands your help; Tell your dictator this; and tell him, Cato
Rise. and revenge her slaughter'd citizens,     Disdains a life which he has power to offer.
Or share their fate;-                             Dec. Rome and her senators submit to Caesar,
To battle!                                      Her gen'rals and her consuls are no more,
Great Pompey's shade complains that we are slow, Who check'd his conquests, and denied his
And Scipio's ghost walks unreveng'd amongst us.          triumphs.
Cato. Let not a torrent of impetuous zeal    Why will not Cato be this Caesar's friend-?  [it.
Transport thee thus beyond the bounds of reason;    Cato. These veryreasons:thou hast urg'd forbid
True fortitude is seen in great exploits,         Dec. Caesar is well acquainted with your virtues,
That justice warrants, and that wisdom guides;  And therefore sets this value on your life.
All, else is towering frenzy and distraction..   Let him but know. the price of Cato's friendship,
Lucius, we. next would know what's your opinion.  And name your terms.
Luc. My thoughts, I must confess, are turn'd    Cato. Bid him disband his legions,
on peace.                              Restore the commonwealth to liberty,
Already have we shown our love to Rome,         Submit his actions to the public censure,
Now let us show submission to the gods.::       And stand the judgment of a Roman senate.
We took up arms, not to revenge ourselves,      Bid him do this, and Cato is his friend.
But free the commonwealth; when this end fails,   Dec. Catu, the. world talks loudly of your wisArms have no further use. Our country's cause,           domThat drew our swords, now:wrests them from.: Cato. Nay, more; though Cato's voice was
our hands,                                      ne'er employ'd
And bids us not delight in Roman blood,         To clear the guilty, and to varnish crimes,
Unprofitably shed. What men could do,           Myself will mount the rostrum in his favour,
Is done already: Heaven and earth will witness, And strive to gain his pardon from the people.
If Rome must fall, that we are innocent.          Dec. A style like this becomes a conqueror.
Cato. Let us appear nor rash nor diffident;     Cato. Decius, a style like this'becomes a
lmmod'rate valour swells into a fault;                   Roman.
And fear, admitted into public councils,          Dec. What is a Roman, that is Caesar's foe?
Betrays like treason.  Let us shun them both.     Cato. Greater than Caesar: he's a friend to
Fathers, I cannot see that our affairs                   virtue.
Are grown thus desp'rate: we have bulwarks    Dec. Consider, Cato, you're in Utica,
round us;                              And at the head of your own little senate:
Within our walls are troops inur'd to toil      You don't now thunder in the capitol,
In Afric's heat, and season'd to the sun;       With all the mouths of Rome to second you.
Numidia's spacious kingdom lies behind us,        Cato. Let him consider that, who drives us
Ready to rise at its young prince's call.                hither.
While there is hope, do not disturb the gods;'Tis Caesar's sword has made Rome's senate little,
But wait at least till Caesar's near approach-  And thinn'd its ranks. Alas! thy dazzled eye
Force us toyield.'Twill never be too:late     Beholds this man in a false, glaring light, [him;
To sue for chains, and own a conqueror.         Which conquest and success have thrown upon
Why should Rome fall a moment ere her time?   Didst thou but view him right, thoud'st see him
No, let us draw her term of freedom out                  black
In its full length, and spin it to' the last,   With murder, treason, sacrilege, and crimes
So shall we gain still one day's liberty:.    That strike my soul with horror but to name them,
And let me perish, but, in Cato's judgment,     I know thou lookest on me as a wretch
A day, an hour, of virtuous liberty,            Beset with ills, and cover'd with misfortunes;
Is worth a whole eternity in bondage.           But, by the gods I swear, millions of worlds
Enter JUNIUS.                   Shculd never buy me to be like that Caesar.
Dec. Does Cato send this answer back to Caesar,
Mlar. Fathers, e'en now a herald is arriv'd  For all his gen'rous cares and proffer'd friendship?
From  Caesar's camp, and with him  comes'old    Cato. His cares for me are insolent and vain:
Decius                                 Presumptuous man! the gods take care of Cato.
The Roman knight: he carries in his looks      Would: Caesar show the greatness of his soul,
Impatience, and demands to speak with Cato.    Bid him employ his care for these my friends,
Cato. By your permission, fathers —bid. him  And make:good use of his ill-gotten power,
enter.                 [Exit JUNIUS. By shelt'ring men much better than himself.
Decius was once my friend, but other prospects    Dec. Your high, unconquer'd heart makes you
Have loos'd those ties, and bound him  fast to          forget
Caesar..You are a man. You rush on your destruction.
His message may determine our resolves.        But I have done.   When I relate hereafter
Enter DEcIUs.                   The tale of this unhappy embassy,
All Romewill be in tears.     [Exit, attended.
Dec. Caesar sends health to Cato-'           Sem. Cato, we thank thee.
Cato. Could he send it                       The mighty genius of immortal Rome
To Cato's slaughter'd friends, it would bewelcome. Speaks in thy voice; thy soul breathes liberty.
Are not your orders to address the senate?      Cesar will shrink to hear the words thou utter'st,
Dec. My business is with Cato; Caesar sees    And shudder in the midst of all his conquests.
The straits to which you're driven: and, as he    Luc. The senate owns its gratitude to Cato,
knows                                  Who with so great a soul consults its safety,
Cato's high worth, is anxious for your life.    And guards our lives, while he neglects his own.
Cato. Mly life is grafted on the fate of Rome:  Sem. Sempronius gives no thanks on this ac.Would he save Cato, bid him spare his country.          count.




sCEe~ _l.                              C.AT O.                                      303
Lucius seems fond of life; but what is life 3  In distant worlds, on t'other side the sun;'Tis not to stalk about, and draw fresh air.Oft have their black ambassadors appear'd,
From time to time, or gaze upon the sun;-   Loaden with gifts, and: fill'd the courts of Zama.'Tis to- be free. -When-liberty isgone,         Cato. I am no stranger to thy father's greatLife grows insipid, and has lost its relish.          ness.
Oh, could my dying. hand but lodge a sword      Juba. I do riot mean to boast his power and
In Caesar's bosom. and revenge my country,            greatness,
By Heaven I could enjoy thd pangs of death,   But point out new alliances to Cato.
And smile in agony.!                          Had we not better leave this Utica,
Luc. Others perhaps                       1 To arm Numidia in our cause, and court
May serve their country with as warm.a zeal,    Th' assistance of my father's powerful friends.
Though'tis not kindled into so much rage.    Did they know Cato, our remotest kings.
Sern. This sober conduct: is a mighty virtue.   Would pour embattled multitudes about him;
In luke-warm patriots..                      Their swarthy hosts would darken all our plains
~ Cato. Come, no more, Sempronius;          Doubling the native horror of the war,
All here are friends to Rome, and to each other.   And making death more grim.
Let us not weaken still the weaker-side         Cato. And canst thou think
By our divisions. -::              Cato will fly before the sword of Casar!,S'em. Cato, my resentments                 Reduc'd, like Hannibal, to seek relief
Are sacrific'd to Rome —I stand- reprov'd..  From court to court, and wander up and down
Cato. Fathers,'tis time you come to a resolve. A vagabond in Afric.
UIJuci Cato,:we all go into your opinion: -  Juba. Cato, perhaps
Caesar's behaviour has convinc'd the senate,  I'm too officious; but my forward cares'Ve ought to hold it out till terms arrive.  Would fain preserve a life of so much value.
Sem.-:-We ought to' hold it out till death:; but, My heart is wounded, when I see such virtue.
Cato,-                               Afflicted by the weight of such misfortunes.
My private voiceis drown'd amidst the senate's.    Cato. Thy nobleness of soul obliges me.
Cato. Then let us rise, my friends, and strive But know, young prince, that valour soars above
to fill                              What the world calls misfortune and affliction.
This little interval, this pause of life      These are not ills; else would they never fall'While yet our liberty and fates are doubtful,)    On Heaven's first fav'rites, and. the best of men.
\With resolution, friendship, Roman bravery,  The gods, in bounty, work up storms about us,
And all the virtues we can crowd into it;     That give mankind occasion to exert
That Heaven may say, it ought to be prolong'd.  Their hidden strength, and throw out into pracFathers, farewell.-The young Numidian-prince      tice
Comes forward, and expects to know our coun- Virtues which shun the day, and lie conceal'd
sels.             [Exeunt Senators. In the smooth seasons and the calm of life.
Juba. I'm charm'd whene'er thou talk'st; 1
Enter JUBA.       -                   pant for virtue;
And all my soul endeavours at perfection.
Juba, the Roman senate has.resolv'dl  Cato.. Dost thou:love watchings, abstinence,
Till time give better prospects, still to keep:-      and toil;
The sword unsheath'd, and turn its: edge on  Laborious virtues all  Learn them from Cato:
Jb   Caesar.                                Success and fortune must thou learn from Caesar.:Juba. The resolution fits a Woman senate.. Juba. The best good fortune that can fall on
But, Cato,, lend me- for a while thy patience,:       Juba
And condescend -to hear a young man speak.,   The whole success at which my heart aspires,
My father, when, some days before his death,    Depends on Cato.
He order'd me to march-for -Utica,.-           ate.   n Cat does Juba say.
(Alas!, I thought not then his death-so: near!)   Thy words confound me.
Wept o'er me, press'd me in his aged arms;     Juba. I would fain retract them.
And, as. his griefs gave way, ".My son;" said  Give them  me back again: they aim'd at no-.he,                                          thing.
" Whatever fortune shall befall thy father,     Cato. Tell me thy wish, young prince; make
Be Cato's friend; he'll train thee up to great        not my ear
And virtuous deeds; do. but observe him well,    A stranger to thy thoughts.
Thou'lt:shun -misfortunes, or thou'lt -learn:  to: Juba. Oh! they're extravagant;
bear them."                          Still let me hide them.
Cato. Juba, thy father was a worthy- prince,  Cato. What can Juba ask,
And merited, alas-! a better fate;  -   -     That Cato will refuse?
But Heaven thought otherwise.  -                Juba. I fear to name it.
Juba. My father's fate,                    Marcia-inherits all her father's virtues.
In spite of all the fortitude that shines       Cato. What wouldst-thou say?
Before my face in Cato's great example,         Juba. Cato, thou hast a daughter.
Sub- ues my soul, and fills my eyes with tears.  Cato. Adieu, young prince; I would not tlear
Cato. It is an honest sorrow, and becomes           a word
thee.                                Should lessen thee in my esteem. Remember
Juba. EHis virtues drew respect from foreign  The hand of fate is over us, and Heaven
-     climes:                              Exacts severity from all our thoughts.
The kings of Afric sought him for their friend; It is not now a- time to talk of aught  -
Kings far remote, that rule, as fame reports, -   But chains, or conquest; liberty, or death.
Behind the hidden sources of the Nile,:                                            [Exit.




304                                   C A T O.                                 [AC'r U.
Enter SYPHAX.                    Syph. I have gone too far.        [Aside.
Syph. How's this, my prince  What, cover'd   Juba. Cato shall know  the baseness of thy
with confusion?                             soul.
You look as if yon stern philosopher           Syph. I must appease this storm, or perish in it.
Had just now chid you.                                                            [Aside.
Juba. Syphax, I'm undone!                  Young prince, behold these locks, that are grown
Syph. I know it well.                              white
Juba. Cato thinks meanly of me.           Beneath a helmet in your father's battles.
Syph. And so will all mankind.              Juba. Those locks shall ne'er protect thy inJuba. I've open'd to him                           solence.
The weakness of my soul, my love for Marcia.'Syph. Must one rash word, the infirmity of age,
Syph. Cato's a proper person to intrust  Throw down the merit of my better years?
A love tale with!                            This is the reward of a whole life of service! —
Juba. Oh, I could pierce my heart,        Curse on the boy! how steadily he hears mo!
My foolish heart!                                                                 [Aside.
Syph. Alas, my prince, how are you chang'd   Juba. Is it because the throne of my foreof late!                                   fathers
I've known young Juba rise before the sun,   Still stands unfill'd, and that Numidia's crown
To beat the thicket where the tiger slept,  Hangs doubtful yet whose head it shall enclose,
Or seek the lion in his dreadful haunts.    Thou thus presum'st to treat thy prince with
I've seen you,                                       scorn?
Even in the Libyan dog-days hunt him down,     Syph. Why will you rive my heart with such
Then charge him close,                               expressions?
And, stooping from your horse,              Does not old Syphax follow you to war?
Rivet the panting savage to the ground.     What are his aims? to shed the slow remains,
Juba. Pr'ythee, no more.                  His last poor ebb of blood, in your defence?
Syph. How would the old king smile,         Juba. Syphax, no more! I would not hear you
To see you weigh the paws, when tipp'd with         talk.
gold,                                 Syph. Not hear me talk! what, when my faith
And throw the shaggy spoils about your shoulders!   to Juba,
Juba. Syphax, this old man's talk, though My royal master's son, is call'd in question?
honey flow'd                        My prince may strike me dead, and I'll be dumb;
In every word, would now lose-all its sweetness.  But whilst I live I must not hold my tongue,
Cato's displeas'd, and Marcia lost for ever.  And languish out old age in his displeasure.
Sypli. Young prince, I yet could give you good   Juba. Thou know'st the way too well into my
advice;                                     heart.
Marcia might still be yours.                I do believe thee loyal to thy prince.
Juba. As how, dear Syphax?                 Syph. What greater instance can I give? I've
Syph. Juba commands Numidia's hardy troops,        offer'd
Mounted on steeds unus'd to the restraint   To do an action which my soul abhors,
Of curbs or bits, and fleeter than the winds:  And gain you whom you love, at any price.
Give but the word, we snatch this damsel up,  Juba. Was this thy motive? I have been too
And bear her off                                     hasty.
Juba. Can such dishonest thoughts            Syph. And'tis for this my prince has call'd
Rise up in man! Wouldst thou seduce my youth        me traitor.                     [so.
To do an act that would destroy mine honour?  Juba. Sure thou mistak'st; I did not call thee
Syph. Gods, I could tear my hair, to hear you   Syph. You did indeed, my prince, you call'd
talk!                                      me traitor.
Honour's a fine imaginary notion,           Nay, further, threaten'd you'd complain to Cato.
That draws in raw and inexperienc'd men     Of what, my prince, would you complain to Cato?
To real mischiefs, while they hunt a shadow.  That Syphax loves you, and would sacrifice
Juba. Wouldst thou degrade thy prince into a His life, nay- more, his honour, in your service?
ruffian?                     [men,   Juba. Syphax, I know thou lov'st me; but
Syph. The boasted ancestors of these great        indeed
Whose virtues you admire, were all such ruffians. Thy zeal for Juba carried thee too far.
This dread of nations, this almighty Rome,  Honour's a sacred tie, the law of kings,
That comprehends in her wide empire's bounds   The noble mind's distinguishing perfection,
All under Heav'n, was founded on a rape;    That aids and strengthens virtue where it meets
Your Scipios, Casars, Pompeys, and your Catos,       her,
(The gods on earth,) are all the spurious blood   And imitates her actions where she is not:
Of violated maids, of ravish'd Sabines.     It ought not to be sported with.
Juba. Syphax, I fear that hoary head of thine   Syph. Believe me, prince, you make old Syphax
Abounds too much in our Numidian wiles.              weep
Syph. Indeed, my prince, you want to know  To hear you talk-but'tis with tears of joy.
the world.                          If e'er your father's crown adorn your brows,
Jiba. If knowledge of the world makes men Numidia will be bless'd by Cato's lectures.
perfidious,                           Juba. Syphax, thy hand; we'll mutually forget
May Juba ever live in ignorance!           The warmth of youth, and frowardness of age.
Ryph. Go, go; you're young.                Thy prince esteems thy worth, and loves thy
Juba. Gods, must I tamely bear                     person.
This arrogance unanswer'd! thou'rt a traitor,   If e'er the sceptre come into my hand,
A false old traitor!                        Syphax shall stand the second in my kingdom.




SCENe I.]                             CA T O.                                     30S
SSyph. Why will you o'erwhelm my age with The helpless traveller, with wild surprise,
kindness.             Sees the dry desert all around him rise,
My joy grows burdensome, I sha'n't support it.  And, smother'd in the dusty whirlwind, dies.
Juba. Syphax, farewell, I'll hence, and try to                               [Exeun
find
~~~~~~~find   ~ACT III.
Some bless'd occasion, that may set me right
In Cato's thoughts. I'd rather have that man          SCENE I.-The Palace.
Approve my deeds, than worlds for my admirers.      E`der MARCuS and PoRTIvs.
[Exit.
Syph. Young men soon give, and soon forget  1Marc. Thanks to my stars, 1 have not ranged
affronts;                                   about
Old age is slow in both-A false old traitor!-    The wilds of life, ere I could find a friend;
These words, rash boy, may chance to cost thee Nature first pointed'out my Portius to me,
dear.                               And early taught me, by her secret force,
My heart had still some foolish fondness for thee, To love thy person, ere I knew thy merit;
But hence,'tis gone; I'll give it to the winds:    Till what was instinct, grew up into friendship.
Caesar, I'm wholly thine.                     For. Marcus, the friendships of the world
Enter SEMPRONIUS.                       are oft
Confederacies in vice, or leagues of pleasure;
All hail, Sempronius I!                      Ours, has severest virtue for its basis,
Well, Cato's senate is resolv'd to wait     And such a friendship ends not but with life.
The fury of a siege, before it yields.        Marc. Portius, thou know'st my soul in all its
Sem. Syphax, we both were on the verge of         weakness;
fate;                               Then, pr'ythee, spare me on its tender side;
Lucius declar'd for peace, and terms were offer'd  Indulge me but in love, my other passions
To Cato, by a messenger from Caesar.        Shall rise and fall by virtue's nicest rules.
Syph. But, how stands Cato?                Por. When love's well tim'd,'tis not a fault
Sem. Thou hast seen mount Atlas;                  to love:
Whilst storms and tempests thunder on its brows, The strong, the brave, the virtuous, and the wise,
And oceans break their billows at its feet,  Sink in the soft captivity together.
It stands unmov'd, and glories in its height:  iMarc. 4las, thou talk'st like one that never feb
Such is that haughty man; his towering soul,    Th' impatient throbs and longings of a soul,'Midst all the shocks and injuries of fortune,  That pants and reaches after distant good!
Rises superior, and looks down on Cesar.    A lover does not live by vulgar time:
Syph. But what's this messenger?         Believe me, Portius, in my Lucia's absence,
Sem. I've practis'd with him,             Life hangs upon me, and becomes a burden;
And found a means to let the victor know,   And yet, when I behold the charming maid,
That Syphax and Sempronius are his friends.   I'm ten times more undone; while hope, and fear,
But let me now examine in my turn;          And grief, and rage, and love, rise up at once,
Is Juba fix'd?                             And, with variety of pain, distract me.
Syph. Yes-but it is to Cato.                Por. What can thy Portius do to give thee
I've tried the force of every reason on him,         help?
Sooth'd and caress'd; been angry, sooth'd again;   Marc. Portius, thou oft enjoy'st the fair one's
Laid safety, life, and interest, in his sight;       presence;
But all are vain, he scorns them all for Cato.  Then undertake my cause, and plead it to her
Sem. Well,'tis no matter; we shall do with- With all the strength and heat of eloquence
out him.                            Fraternal love and friendship can inspire.
Sy phax, I now may hope, thou hast forsook  Tell her thy brother languishes to death,
Thy Juba's cause, and wishest Marcia mine.    And fades away, and withers in his bloom;
Yyph. May she be thine as fast as thou wouldst That he forgets his sleep, and loathes his food;
have her.                           That youth, and health, and war, are joyless to
But, are thy troops prepar'd for a revolt?         him;
Does the sedition catch from man to man,    Describe his anxious days, and restless nights,
And run among the ranks?                   And all the torments that thou see'st me suffer.
Sem. All, all is ready;                     Por. Marcus, I beg thee give me not an offic.
The factious leaders are our friends, that spread  That suits with me so ill. Thou know'st my
Murmurs and discontents among the soldiers;         temper.
They count their toilsome marches, long fatigues,   Marc. Wilt thou behold me sinking in my
Unusual fastings, and will bear no more             woes,
This medley of philosophy and war.          And wilt thou not reach out a friendly arm
Within an hour they'll storm the senate-house.   To raise me from amidst this plunge of sorrows q
Syph.- Meanwhile I'll draw up my Numidian  PFor. Marcus, thou canst not ask what I'd
troops                                      refuse;
Within the square, to exercise their arms,  But here, believe me, I've a thousand reasons.And, as I see occasion, favour thee.          Marc. I know thou'lt say my passion's out of
1 laugh to see how the unshaken Cato                season,
Will look aghast, while unforeseen destruction   That Cato's great example and misfortunes
Pours in upon him thus from every side.     Should both conspire to drive it from my thoughe.
9S, where our wide Numidian wastes extend,    But what's all this to one that loves like me.
Sudden th' impetuous hurricanes descend;    O, Portius, Portius, from my soul I wish
Wheel through the air, in circling eddies play,   Thou didst but know thyself what'tis to love I
Tear up the sands, and sweep whole plains away. Then wouldst thou pity and assist thy brother




:306                                    C A T O.                                  LACT UI
Por. What shall I do  If I disclose my passion, Are -not there heavens, and gods, that thunder
Our friendship's at an end; if I conceal it,            o'er us?
The world will call me false-to friend and brother. But -see, thy: brother Marcus bends his way;-*
[Aside. Isicken at tle sight.  Once more, farewell,Marc. Butsee,whereLucia, atherwontedhour, Farewell, and know thou wrong'st me, if thou
Amid the cool of yon high marble arch,                 think'st,
Enjoysthe noon-day breeze! Observe her, Portius; Ever was love, or ever grief, like mine.  -[Exit.
That face, that shape, those eyes, that heaven of             Enter MARCUS.
beauty!
Observe her well, and blame me if thou.canst.. Marc. Portius, what hopes? How stands she?
Por. She sees us, and advances.                      am I doom'd
llarrc. I'll withdraw,.                     To life or death?
And leave you for awhile. -Remember, Portius,  - Por. What wouldst: thou have me say?
Thy brother's life depends upon thy tongue....;   Marc. Thy downcast looks, and thy diso.rder'd
[Exit.          thoughts,
Enter LUCIA.                   Tell me my fate. I ask not the success -.
My cause has found.
Lucia. Did not I see your brother Marcus here?   Por. I'm griev'd I. undertook it.
Why did he fly the place, and shun my presence-  Marc. What, does the barbarous maid insut
Por. Oh, Lucia, language is too faint to- show       my heart,
His rage of love; -it preys. upon his life;;:  My aching heart, and triumph. in my pains- 
He pines, he sickens, he despairs, he dies!     Por. Away,-you're:toosuspicious inyourgriefs;
Lucia. How wilt thou guard thy honour, in! Lucia,. though sworn never to: think of love,
the shock.[tius, Compassionates your pains and pities you.
Of love and friendship?,.Think betimes, my Por-. -.Marc, Compassionates my pains, and pitiesme!
Think how the nuptial tie, that might ensure.: -.  What is compassion when'tis void of love.
Our mutual bliss, would raise to such a height   Fool that I was to choose so cold a friend
Thy brother's griefs, as might perhaps destroy him. To urge my cause!-Compassionates my pains'!
Par. Alas, poor youth-! What dost thou think,.Pr'ythee, what art, what rhet'ric, didst thou use
my Lucia?                             To gain this mighty boon?-She pities me!
His generous, open, undesigning heart, -       To one that asks the warm returns of love,
Has begg'd his rival to solicit for him'!      Compassion's cruelty,'tis scorn,'tis death.Then do not strike him dead with a denial.       Por. Marcus, no more; have I deserv'd this
Lucia. No, Portius, no; I see thy sister's tears,    treatment?
Thy father's anguish, and thy brother's death,.  Marc. What have. I said?  Oh, Portius, oh
In the pursuit of our ill-fated loves;                 forgive me!
And, Portius, here I swear, to Heaven I swear,  A soul, exasperate in ills, falls out
*To Heaven,and allthepowers that judgemankind,: With every thing-its friend, itself —but, ha-!
Never to mix my plighted hands with thine,                             [Shouts and trumpets:
While such a cloud of mischief hangs upon us;  What means that shout, big with the sounds of
But to forget our loves, and drive thee out::          war? 
From all my thoughts-as far as I am able.     What new alarm?     
Por. What hast thou -said! — I'm  thunder-...... [Shouts and trumpets repeated.
struck-                                 Por. A second, louder yet,
Recall those hasty words, or I- am lost for ever. -  Swells in the wind, andt comes more full upon -us.
Lucia. Hasnot the vow already.pass'd.my lips?.:lMarc. Oh, for some glorious, cause to -fall in
The gods have heard it, and'tis seal'd in-Heaven,     battle!
May all the vengeance that was:-ever pour'd.  Lucia, thou hast undone me:: thy disdain
On perjur'd heads, o'erwhelm -me if I break it!    Has broke my. heart:.'tis death must give me
Por. Fix'd in astonishment, I gaze. upon thee, -............ ease.;
Like one just blasted by a stroke from Heaven,    Por. Quick let us hence. Who knows if
W.ho pants for breath, and stiffens, yet alive,        Cato's life   - -
In dreadful looks;:a monument of wrath:!:..-:  Stands sure?.Oh, Marcus, I am warm'd; my heart
Lucia. Think, Portius, think thou see'st &thy Leaps at the trumpet's voice,-and burns for glory.
dying brother -                                   [Exeunt; trumpets and-shouting.
Stabb'd at his heart, and all besmear'd with blood,.....
Storming at Heaven and thee! Thy awful sire       SCE      II.-Before the Senate-House.
Sternly demands the cause, th' accursed.cause,   Enter  SMPRONIUS, with the LEaDERS of tie.
That robs him of his son:-farewell, my Portius! E              IUtin
Farewell, though death is-in the word —for ever i
Por. Thou must not go-;: my soul still -hovers   Sern. At length the-winds are-rais'd, thestorm
o'er thee,                                    blows high! 
And can't get loose.                          Be it your care, my friends, to keep it up
Lucia. If the firm Portius shake,           In all its fury, and direct it right,
To hear of parting, think what Lucia suffers!   Till it has spent itself on Cato's head.
Por.'Tis true, unruffled and serene, I've met Meanwhile, I'll herd among his friends, and seem
The common accidents of life; but here        One of the number, that, whate'er arrive,
Such an unlook'd-for storm of ills falls on me,    My friendsand fellow-soldiers may be safe. (Exit.
It beats down all my strength, I cannot bear it.  1 Lead. We are all safe; Sempronius is our
We must not part.                                      friend.  [Trumpets.
Lucia. What dost thou say? Not part!        But, hark, Cato enters. Bear up boldly to him;
Hast thou forgot the vow that I have made?:    Be sure you beat-him down, and bind.hii fast;




SCE I.                                   C ATO..37
This day will end our toils.                      Sem. Know, villains, when such paltry slaves
Fear nothing, for Sempronius is our friend.              presume
Trumpets.  Re-enter SEMPRONIUS, With CIATO, To mix in treason, if the plot succeeds,
They're thrown neglected by; but, -if it fails,
k.xus, XPORTfiiS M Acus, a.d Guards..,.  They're sure to die like dogs, as you shall do.
Cato. Where are those, bold intrepid sons of Here, take these factious monsters, drag tnem
war,                                   To sudden death...           [forth
That greatly turn their' backs upon the foe,.    I Lead. Nay, since it comes to thisAnd, to their general, send a brave'defiance?  Sem. Dispatch them quick, but first pluck out
Sem. Curse on their dastard souls, they stand         their tongues,.
astonish'd!  [Aside. Lest with their dying breath theysow sedition.
Cato. Perfidious men!  And will you thus            [Exeunt Guards, with the Leadersof t.he
dishonour                                         Mutiny.
Y6ur past exploits, and. sully all your wars?                  Enter SYPHA:
Why could not Cato fall: 
Without your guilt? Behold, ungrateful men,      Syph. Our first:design, my friend, has prov'd
Behold my bosom nakedto your swords,...... abortive;....
And let the man that's injurd.strike the blow.,  Still there remains.an after-game to play.s,
Which of you all suspects that he is wrong'd,    My troops are mounted;
Or thinks he suffers greater ills than Cato?    Let but Sempronius head us in our flight,'' 
Am I distinguish'd from you but -by toils,.     We'll force the -gate where -Marcus keeps his
Superior toils, and heavier weight of cares E            guard,
Painful pre-eminence T!.             And hew down all that would oppose our passage.
Sem. Confusion to the villains! all is lost!  - A day will bring us into Cesar's camp.. [pose.:
[Aside.    Sem. Confusion'! I have fail'd of half my pur
Cato. -Hence, worthless men! hence!. and  Marcia, the charming Marcia's left. behind!i
complain to Caesar,                      Syph. How! will Sempronius turn a woman's'You could not undergo the toil of war,                  slave. 
N or bear the hardships that your. leader bore.   Sem. Think not thy friend can.ever.feel the Soft
Luc. See, Cato, see the unhappy men! they  Unmanly warmth and tenderness of love.. weep!                                 Syphax, I long to clasp that haughty maid,
Fear and remorse, and sorrow for their crime,    And bend her stubborn virtue to my passionAppear ii, every look, and plead for mercy.     When I have gone thus far, I'd cast her off:t'.
Cato. Learn to be honest -men, give up your    Syph. What hinders, then, but that thou find
leaders,                                        her out,
And pardon shall descend on all the rest..     And hurry her away by manly force?
Sem. Cato, commit these wretches to my care:   Sem. But how to gain. admission?. For.access
First let, them each be.broken on the rack,     Is given to none but Juba and her brothers'.
Then with what life remains, impal'd, and left    Syiph. Thou shalt have Juba's dress and.Juba's
To writhe at leisure, round the bloody stake.          guards;...
There let them hang, and taint the southern wind.i The doors will open, when Numidia!s.prince
The partners of'their crime -will learn obedience.  Seems to appear before the slaves thatwatch them.
Cato. Forbear, Sempronius!-see they suffer,Sem, Heavens, what a thought is there! Mardeath,.  cia's my own!
But, in their deaths, remember they are men-;    How will my bosom swell with anxious joy,
Lucius, the base degen'rate age requires.. -   When I behold her struggling in my arms,
Severity.                                       With glowing beauty, and disorder'd charms,
When, by just vengeance,. guilty mortals, perish,  While fear and anger, with alternate grace,
The gods behold the punishment with pleasure,  Pant in.her breast, and vary inher face.!
And lay th' uplifted thunderbolt aside...,    So Pluto seiz'd off Proserpine, convey'd
Sem. Cato, I execute thy.,will with pleasure.   To hell's tremendous. gloom th' affrighted maid;
Cato. Meanwhile we'll,sacrifice to, liberty.~  There- -grimly. smil'd, pleas'd with the beauteous
Renem.,ber, O,.mny friends1.l the laws the rights,'...prize,
The generous plan of power, deliver'd down  Nor envied Jove his sunshine and his skies.
From age to age by your renown'd forefathers,........,....... [Exeunt.
(So dearly bought, theprice of so much blood:)...                                      n:.h, let.it never perish.in your handps!.........               ACT IV.
B1ut piously transmit it to your children.
Do thou, great liberty! inspire our:souls,.CENE 1.-A  Garden.
And make our lives in thy possession kappy,.              Enter    A  and  ARCA.
Or our deaths glorious in thy just defence.
[Exeunt CATO, 4.C.   Lucia. Now tell. me, Marcia,, tell me from thy
1 Lead,,Sempronius, you have acted like your- If thou believ'st'tis possible for woman  [soul,
s...:  self:...... [earnest. To suffer greater ills than Lucia suffers?
One would have thought you had. been half in    Marcia. Oh, Lucia, Lucia, might my big swoln
Senm. Villain, stand off; base, grov'ling, worth-     heart
less wretches,                         Vent all its griefs, and give a loose to sorrow,
Mongrels in faction, poor faint-hearted traitors!  Marcia could answer thee in sighs, keep pace
2 Lead. Nay, now you carry it' too far, Sem- With all thy woes, and count out tear for tear.:  pronius!                                 Lucia. I know thou'rt doom'd alike to be belov'd
Throw  off the mask, there are. none here but By Juba, and thy-father's friend, Sempronius':
friends.                               But which ofthese has power to charm, like Portiusl




S08                                   C A T O.                                 AOCT iV.
Marcia. Still I must beg thee not to name    Marcia. See, Lucia, see! here's blood! here'.
Sempronius.                                  blood and murder!
Lucia, I like not that loud, boisterous man.  Ha! a Numidian! Heaven preserve the princAe'
Juba, to all the bravery of a hero,          The face lies muffled up within the garment,
Adds softest love and sweetness: he, I own,  But, ah! death to my sight! a diadem,
Might make indeed the proudest woman happy.  And royal robes! 0 gods!'tis he,'tis he!
Lucia. But should this father give you to Sem- Juba lies dead before us!        [ance
pronius I                             Lucia. Now, Marcia, now call up to thy assistMarcia. I dare not think he will: but if he Thy wonted strength and constancy of mind;
should-                             Thou canst not put it to a greater trial.
Why wilt thou add, to all the griefs I suffer,  Marcia. Lucia, look there, and wonder at my
Imaginary ills and fancied tortures?                patience;
I hear the sound of feet! They march this way, Have I not cause to rave, and beat my breast,
Let us retire, and try if we can drown       To rend my heart with grief, and run distracted I
Each softer thought in sense of present danger:    Lucia. What can I think, or say, to give thee
When love once pleads admission to our hearts,       comfort?
In spite of all the virtues we can boast,     Marcia. Talk not of comfort;'tis for lighter ills:
The woman that deliberates is lost.  [Exeunt. Behold a sight that strikes all comfort dead.
Enter SEMPRONIUS, dressed like JUBA, with              Enter JUBA unperceived.
Numidian Guards.               I will indulge my sorrows, and give way
Sem. The deer is lodg'd, I've track'd her to  To all the pangs and fury of despair;
her covert.                         That man, that best of men, deserv'd it from me.
Be sure you mind the word, and, when I give it,   Juba. What do I hear  and was the false
Rush in at once, and seize upon your prey.           Sempronius
How will the young Numidian rave, to see    That best of men. Oh, had I fallen like him,
His mistress lost! If aught could glad my soul,  And could have been thus mourn'd, I-had beer
Beyond th' enjoyment of so bright a prize,           happy.                      [Aside,
*'Twould be to torture that young, gay barbarian.   Marcia.'Tis not in fate to ease my tortur'd
-But hark! what noise! Death to my hopes!            breast.'tis he,                            Oh, he was all made up of love and charms!'Tis Juba's self! there is but one way left-  Whatever maid could wish, or man admire.He must be murder'd, and a passage cut      Delight of every eye; when he appeard,'Through those his guards.                   A: secret pleasure gladden'd all that saw him.
Enter JUBA, with Guards.Oh, Juba, Juba!
~~~,    ~        Juba. What means that voice?  Did she not
-Juba. What do I see:? Who's this that dares       call on Juba?              [Aside.
usurp                                 Marcia. He's dead, and never knew how much
The guards and habits of Numidia's prince 1          I lov'd him!
Sem. One that was born to scourge thy arro- Lucia, who knows but his poor, bleeding heart,
gance,                              Amidst its agonies, remember'd Marcia,
Presumptuous youth!                          And the last words he utter'd call'd me cruel!
Juba. What can this mean? Sempronius!   Alas! he knew not, hapless youth he knew not
Sem. My sword shall answer thee. Have at Marcia's whole soul was full of love and Juba!
thy heart.                            Juba. Where am I? Do I live? or am indeed
Juba. Nay, then, beware thy own, proud, bar- What Marcia thinks? All is Elysium round me!
barous man.                                                              [Aside.
[ They fight; SEMPRONIUS falls.   Mlarcia. Ye dear remains of the most lov'd of
Sem. Curse on my stars! Am I then doom'd         men,
to fall'                            Nor modesty nor virtue here forbid
By a boy's hand disfigur'd in a vile        A last embrace, while thusNumidian dress, and for a worthless woman?   Juba. See, Marcia, see,
Gods, I'm distracted! this my close of life!                [ Throwing himself before her.
Oh, for a peal of thunder, that would make  The happy Juba lives! he lives to catch
Earth, sea, and air, and heaven, and Cato trem- That dear embrace, and to return it, too,
ble!                        [Dies. With mutual warmth and eagerness of love.
Juba. With what a spring his furious soul   Marcia. With pleasure and amaze I stand
broke loose.                                transported!
And left the limbs still quivering on the ground! If thou art Juba, who lies there?
Hence, let us carry off those slaves to Cato,  Juba. A wretch
that we may there at length unravel all     Disguis'd like Juba on a curs'd design.
This dark design, this mystery of fate.     I could not bear
[Exit JUBAA; his Guards taking those of To leave thee in the neighbourhood of death,
SEMPRO'NI US as prisoners.          But flew, in all the haste of love, to find thee;
Enter LUcIA and MARCIA.            I found thee weeping, and confess this once
Am rapt with joy, to see my Marcia's tears.
Lucia. Sure'twas the clash of swords; my   lMarcia. I've been surpris'd in an unguarded
troubled heart                              hour,
Is so cast down, and sunk amidst its sorrows,    But must not now go back; the love, that lay
It throbs with fear, and aches at every sound.    Half-smother'd in my breast, has broke through all
Oh, Marcia, should thy brothers, for my sake-  Its weak restraints, and burns in its full lustre
I die away with horror at the thought!      I cannot, if I would, conceal it from thee.




$SOUNE II.]                           C AT O.                                      09
Juba. My joy, my best belov'd, my only wish!   Luc. Alas, poor prince! his fate deserves comflow shall I speak the transport of my soul?        passion.
MIarcia. Lucia, thy arm. Lead to my apart-                Eter JUBA.
ment.
Oh, prince! I blush to think what I have said,  Juba. I blush, and am confounded to appear
But fate has wrested the confession from me;    Before thy presence, Cato.
Go on, and prosper in the paths of honour.     Cato. What's thy crime?
Thy virtue will excuse my passion for thee,   Juba. I'm a Numidian.
And make the gods propitious to our love.      Cato. And a brave one too. Thou hast a Ro[Exeunt MARCIA and LucIA.           man soul.                    [men?
Juba. I ant so bless'd, I fear'tis all a dream.  Juba. Hast thou not heard of my false countryFortune, thou now hast made amends for all     Cato. Alas, young prince!
Thy past unkindness: I absolve my stars.    Falsehood and fraud shoot up in every soil,
What though Numidia add her conquer'd towns  The product of all climes-Rome has its Caesars.
And provinces to swell the victor's triumph,  Juba.'Tis generous thus to comfort the disJuba will never at his fate repine:,                 tress'd.
Let Caesar have the world, if Marcia's mine.   Cato.'Tis just to give applause where'tis de[Exit.         serv'd.
ISCENE II.-Before the Palace. —A March at a Thy virtue, prince, has stood the test of fortune,
distalnce.                 Like purest gold, that, tortur'd in the furnace,
Comes out more bright, and brings forth all its
Enter CATO and Lucius.                     weight.
Luc. I stand astonish'd! What, the bold Sem-            Enter PORTIUS.
pronius.                     [triots, Por. Misfortune on misfortune  grief on gref!
That still broke foremost through the crowd of pa- My brother Marcus-n gne
As with a hurricane of zeal transported,       Cato. Ha  what has he done
And virtuous e'en to madness-                  Cato. Ha! what has he done?
us  Has he forsook his post?  Has he given way?
Cato. Trust me, Lucius,.          Did he look tamely on, and let them pass?
Our civil discords have produc'd such crimes,   or. Scarce had I left my fathe but I met him
Such monstrous crimes, I am surpris'd at nothing. Borne on the shields of his surviving soldiers,
-Oh, Lucius, I am sick of this bad world!   Breathless and pale, and cover'd o'er with wounds.
The daylight and the sun grow painful to me.    Long, at the head of his few faithful friends,
Enter PORTIUS.                He stood the shock of a whole host of foes,
But see where Portius comes: what means this Till, obstinately brave, and bent on death,
haste?                             Oppress'd with multitudes, he greatly fell.
Why are thy looks thus chang'd?               Cato. I'm satisfied.
Por. My heart is griev'd:                   Por. Nor did he fall, before
I bring such news as will afflict my father.  His sword had pierc'd through the false heart of
Cato. Has Caesar shed more Roman blood?           Syphax.
Por. Not so.                              Yonder he lies, I saw the hoary traitor
The traitor Syphax, as within the square    Grin in the pangs of death, and bite the ground.
He exercis'd his troops, the signal given,     Cato. Thanks to the gods, my boy has done
Flew off at once with his Numidian horse            his duty.
To the south gate, where Marcus holds the watch; -Portius, when I'm dead, be sure you place
I saw, and call'd to stop him, but in vain:  His urn near mine.
He toss'd his arm aloft, and proudly told me,  Por. Long may they keep asunder!
lHe would not stay and perish like Sempronius.    Luc. Oh, Cato, arm thy soul with all its patience!
Cato. Perfidious man! But haste, my son, See where the corpse of thy dead son approaches I
and see                             The citizens and senators, alarm'd,
Thy brother Marcus acts a Roman's part.     Have gather'd round it, and attend it, weeping.
it-Lucius, the torrent bears too hard upon me Dead march. CATO meets the corpse. Lucils,
— Lucius, the torrent bears too hard upon me:      Senators,
Justice gives way to force: the conquer'd world, 4-c. attending.
Is Casar's! Cato has no business in it.      Cato. Welcome, my son! Here lay him down,
Luc. While pride, oppression, and injustice       my friends,
reign,                              Full in my sight, that I may view at leisure
The world will still demand her Cato's presence, The bloody corse, and count those glorious wounds.
In pity to mankind submit to Caesar,        -How beautiful is death, when earn'd by virtue!
And reconcile thy mighty soul to life.      Who would not be that youth? What pity is it
Cato. Would Lucius have me live to swell the That we can die but once to serve our country!number                              Why sits this sadness on your brows, my friends?
Of Caesar's slaves, or by a base submission  1 should have blush'd if Cato's house had stood
Give up the name of Rome, and own a tyrant?   Secure, and flourish'd in a civil war.
Luc. The victor never will impose on Cato    Portius, behold thy brother, and remember
Ungenerous terms. His enemies confess       Thy life is not thy own, when Rome demands it.
The virtues of humanity are Caesar's.       When Rome demands?-But Rome is now no
Cato. Curse on his virtues! they've undone his   more.
country.                            Oh, liberty! oh, virtue! oh, my country!  [eyes
Such popular humanity is treason-             Juba. Behold that upright man! Rome fills his
But see young Juba; the good youth appears,   With tears, that flow'd not o'er his own dear son
Full of the guilt of his perfidious subjects!                                    [Aside




10                                      C AT O.                                    [ACTr V
Catob. Whate'er the Roman virtue has subdu'd,                  ACT V.
The sun's whole course, the day and year, are            SCENE       -   Chmber.
Cwsar's:
For him the self-devoted Decii died,           CATO, solus, sitting in a thoughtful posture; ir
The Fabii fell, and the great Scipio's conquer'd:   his hand, Plato's Book on the Immortality oJ
Even Pompey fought for Caesar. Oh, my friends!'  the Soul; a drawn Sword on the table, by him,
How is the toil of fate, the workof ages,
The Roman empire, fallen! Oh, curs d ambition!   Cato. It
Fallen into Cesar's hands!  -Our great forefathers Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
Had left him nought to conquer but his country.  This longing after immortality' 
Juba. While Cato lives, Casar will blush to see Or whence this secret dread, this inward horror,
Mankind enslav'd, and be asham'd of empire.    Of falling ito nought  Why shrinks the soun
Cato; — Caesar asham'd! Has he not seen Phar- Back on herself, and startles at destruction!
salia                  n  s'Tis the divinity that stirs within us;
Luc.'Tis time thou save thyself and us.'Tis Heaver itself that points out an hereafter,
jLUc.:'Tis time thou save thyself and us.  And intimates eternity to man.
Cato. Lose not a thought on me; I'm out of        intimates eternity   to man.
~~~~~danger:  ~Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought!
Heaven  will not leave me in the victor's hand.    Through what variety of untried being,  [pass?
Through what new scenes and changes, must we
sBut''ohrmy friends! your safety fills my heart   The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before me:
But Oh) my friends! your safety fills my heart   But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it.
-Withl anxious thoughts; a thousand secret terrors But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it.
With anxious thoughts; a thousand secret terrors Here will I hold. If there's a power above us
Rise in my soul. How shall I save my friends?  Here will I hold. If there  s a power above us'Tis now, 0 Casar, -I begin-to fear thee!      (And that there is, all Nature cries aloud
L  uc. Cusar has mercy, if we ask it of him. hThrough all her works,) he must delight in virtue;
Luc. Cwesar has mercy, if we ask it of him.
And that which he delights in must be happy,
Ca knto. Then ask it, I conjure you! let him  But when, or where! —This world was made for
Cwsar.
Whate'er was done against him, Cato did it.            Ciesar.
Whate'erif you pleas done againt 1 request it of him-  I'm weary of conjectures;-this must end them.
Add, if you please, that 1 request it of him —
That I myself, with tears, request it of him- 
Thus am I doubly arm'd: my death and life,
The virtue of my friends may pass unpunish'd.   Tubs  armed: my death and life,
heart is troubled for thy sake.  My bane and antidote, are both before me.
Juba, my heart is troubled for thy sake.
This in a moment brings me to an end;.
Should I advise thee to regain Numidia,        But this informs me I shall never die..Juba. If I forsake thee
Juba. If I forsake thee                     The soul, secur'd in her existence, smiles
Whilst I have life, may Heaven abandon Juba!   At.the drawn:dagger, and defies its point.
Cato. Thy virtues, prince, if I foresee aright, The stars shall fade away, the sun himself
Grow dim with age, and ~Nature sink in years,
Will one day make thee great; at Rome, hereafter, Grow dim with age, and Nature sin immortal years,'Twill be no crime to have been Cato's friend.  ut thou shalt flourish in mmortal youth,
Portius, draw near:-my son, thou oft has seen   The wreck of m atter, and the  crush of worlds.
The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds.
Thy sire engag'd in a corrupted state,
Wrestlirngwith viceand faction: nowtouseestme  What means this heaviness that hangs upon me'
stme  This lethargy that creeps through all my senses'
Spent, overpower'd, despairing, of success;
SpLet me advise thee to retreat betimng es'.;  Nature, oppress'd and  harrass'd out with care,
To thy paternal state, the Sabine field;       Sinks down to rest. This once I'll favour her,
To thy paternal state, the Sabine field;
Where the great Censor toil'd with his own hands,'That my awaken'd soul may take her flight,
And all our frugal ancestors were bless'd     Renew'd: in all her strength, and fresh with life,
In humble virtues, and a rural life,;.     An offering fit for Heaven. Let guilt or fear
There live ret~ir'd, pray for the peace of Rome,   Disturb man's rest, Cato knows neither of them,
Content thyself to be obscurely good.  Indifferent in his choice, to sleep or die.
Content thyself to be obscurely good.
When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway,                Enter PORTIUS.
The post of honour is a private station.      But, ha! who's this'  my son! Why this inPor.: I hope my father does not recommend            trusion'
A life to'Portius,'that' he scorns himself.  Were not my orders that I would be private?
Cato. Farewell, my friends! If there be any of Why am I disobey'd?
you                                     Por. Alas, my father!
Who dare not trust the victor's clemency,     What means this sword, this in'strument of death.
Know there-are'ships prepar'd, by my command, Let me convey it hence.
That:shall convey you to the wish'd-for port.    Cato. Rash youth, forbear.
Is there aught else, my triends, I can do for you'    Por. Oh, let the prayers, th' entreaties of your
The conqueror draws near. Once more, farewell  friends,'         [you.
If e'er we meet.hereafter,' we shall meet     Their tears, their common danger, wrest it from
In happier climes, and on a safer shore,         Cato. Wouldst thou betray me? Wouldst thou
Where Caesar never shall approach us more.             give me up
[Pointingto his dead son. A slave, a captive, into Caesar's hands?'There the brave youth, with love of virtue fir'd,   Retire and learn obedience to a father,
Who greatly ini:his country's cause expir'd,'    Or know, young manShall know he- conquer'd.: The'firm  patriot   Por. Look not thus sternly on me;
there,                                You know, I'd rather die than disobey you.
Who- made the welfare of mankind his care,      Cato.'Tis well! again I'm master of myself.
Though-still by faction, vice, and fortune cross'd, Now, Ctesar, let thy troops beset our gates,
ihall find the generous labour was not lost.  And bar each avenue; thy gathering fleets
[Dead march; exeunt infuneral procession. O'erspread the sea, and stop up every port;




s-CN  LtI.1                             C AT O.                                       311
Cato snail open to himself a passagei.:::-..  And bears it up in all its wonted greatness.
And. mock thy hopes.       -                   A kind, refreshing sleep is fallen upon him:
Por. [Kneeling.]: Oh, Sir, forgive-your soni,   1 saw him stretch'd at ease; his fancy lost
Whose grief hangs heavy on Ibm. Oh, my-father! In pleasing dreams; as I drew near his couch,
How am I sure it is not the last time          He smil'd, and cried, Caesar, thou canst not hurt
I e'er shall call you so? - Be not displeas'd,         me.
Oh, be not angry with me whilst I weep,         LMarcia. His mind~still labours with somedreadAnd, in the anguish of my heart, beseech you           ful thought.
To quit the dreadful purpose of your soul!
Cato. Thou hast been ever good and dutiful.
-  [Embrading him.   Juba. Lucius. the horsemen are return'd from
Weep not, my son, all will be well again;              viewing
The righteous gods, whom I have sought to please, The number, strength, and posture of our foes,
Will succour Cato, and preserve his children.    Who now encamp within a short hour's march;
Por. Your words give comfort to my drooping  On the high point of yon bright western tower
heart.                        [duct: We ken them from afar; the setting sun
Cato. Portius, thou may'st rely upon my con- Plays on their shining arms and burnish'd helmets,
Thy father -will not act what misbecomes him.    And covers all the field with gleams of fire.
But go, my son, and:see if aught be wanting      Luc. Marcia,'tis time we should awake thy
Among. thy father's friends; see them embark'd,        father.
And tell me if the winds and seas befriend them. Caesar is still dispos'd to give us terms,
My-soul is quite weighed down with care, and: asks And waits at distance till he hears from Cato.
The soft refreshment of a moment's sleep.                     EnterPORTIUS
Por..-My thoughts are more at ease, my heart
revives-  [Exit CATO. Portius, thy looks speak somewhat of importance,
Enter' MARCIA.                 - What tidings dost thou bring? Methinks I see
Unusual gladness sparkle in thy eyes.
Oh, Marcia! Oh, my sister! still there's hope  Por. As I was hasting to the port, where now
Our father will not cast away a life          My father's friends, impatient for a passage,
So needful to us all, and to his country.      Accuse the lingering wind, a sail arriv'd
He is retir'd to rest, and seems to cherish [hence From Pompey's son, who, through the realms of
Thoughts full of peace.-He has despatch'd me           Spain,
With orders that -bespeak a mind compos'd,    Calls out for vengeance on his father's death,
And studious for the safety of his friends.:   And: rouses the whole, nation up to arms,
Marcia, take care that none disturb his slumbers. Were Cato at their head, once more might Rome
[Exit. Assert her rights, and claim her liberty.
Marcia. Oh, ye immortal powers, that guard                              [A groan is heard.
the just,                             But, hark! what means that groan?-Oh, give
Watch round his couch, and soften his repose,'       me way,
Banish his sorrows, and becaln his soul    i    And let me fly into my father's presence! [Exit.
With easy dreams; remember all his.virtues,     Luc. Cato, amidst his slumbers, thinkson Rome.
And show mankind that goodness-is your- care!  And, in the wild disorder of his soul,
i  Mourns o'er his country. —Ha! a second groanEnter LUCIA.                   Heaven guard us all!
Lucia. Where is your father, Marcia, where is   MIarcia. Alas,'tis not the voice
Cato?                                Of one who sleeps;'tis agonizing painMarcia. Lucia, speak low, he is retired to rest.'Tis death is in that soundLucia, I feel a gentle dawning hope                         Re-enter PoRTIUS.
Rise'in my soul-we shall be happy still.
Lucia. Alas, I tremble when I think on Cato!   Por. Oh, sight of wo!
In every view, in every thought, I tremble!  Oh, Marcia, what we fear'd is come to pass!
Cato is stern and awful as a god;             Cato has fallen upon his swordHe knows not how to wink at human frailty,      Luc. Oh, Portius,
Or pardon weakness, that he never felt.       Hide all the horrors of thy mournful tale,
Marcia. Though stern and awful to the foes And let us guess the rest.
Of Rome,                                Por. I've raised him up,
He is all goodness, Lucia, always mild;       And plac'd him in his chair; where, pale and faint,
Compassionate and gentle to his friends;      He gasps for breath, and, as his life flows from
Fill'd with domestic tenderness, the best,             him,                            [ing,
The kindest father; I have ever found him     Demands to see his friends. His servants, weepEasy and good, and bounteous to my wishes.    Obsequious to his order, bear him hither!Lucia.'Tis his consent alone can make us   Marcia. Oh, Heaven! assist me in this dreadbless'd.                                      ful hour,
But who knows Cato's thoughts?                To pay the last sad duties to my father!
Who knows how yet he may dispose of Portius,            CTO brought on in a clair.
Or how he has determined of thyself? [Heaven.
Marcia. Let him but live, commit the rest to   Juba. These are thy triumphs, thy exploits, O
Jlnter Lucius.                         Caesar!
Luc. Now is Rome fall'n indeed!
Luc. Sweet are the slumbers of the virtuous man!   Cato. Here set me downOh, Marcia, I have seen thy godlike father;    Portius, come near me.-Are my friends embark'd I
Some power invisible supports his soul,        Can any thing be thought of for their service I




312                                   C A T O.                                [AT tv
Whilst I yet live, let me not live in vain-  Ladies are often cruel to their cost:
Oh, Lucius, art thou here. —Thou art too good- To give you pain, themselves they punisn most
Let this our friendship live between our children-  Vows of virginity should well be weigh'd;
Make Portius happy in thy daughter Lucia.    Too oft they're cancell'd, though in convents
Marcia, my daughter                                  made.
Oh, bend me forward!-Juba loves thee, Marcia. Would you revenge such rash resolves-you
A senator of Rome, while Rome surviv'd,              may
Would not have match'd his daughter with a Be spiteful-and believe the thing we say,
king-                       [tion —   We hate you when you're easily said nay.
But Caesar's arms have thrown down all distinc- How needless, if you knew us, were your fears!
IPm sick to death- Oh, when shall I get loose  Let love have eyes, and beauty will have ears.
From thisvain world, th' abode of guilt and sorrow! Our hearts are form'd as you yourselves would
And yet, methinks, a beam of light breaks in         choiose,
On my departing soul. Alas, I fear          Too proud to ask, too humble to refuse:
I've been too hasty! —-Oh, ye powers, that search We give to merit, and to wealth we sell:
The heart of man, and weigh his inmost thoughts, He sighs with most success that settles well.
If I have done amiss, impute it not-        The woes of wedlock with the joys we mix:
The best may err, but you are good, and-Oh!'Tis best repenting in a coach and six.
[Dies.   Blame not our conduct, since we but pursue
Luc. There fled the greatest soul that ever Those lively lessons we have learn'd from you.
warm'd                              Your breasts no more the fire of beauty warms,
A Roman breast.-Oh, Cato! oh, my friend!   But wicked wealth usurps the power of charms
Thy will shall be religiously observ'd.     What pains to get the gaudy things you hate,
But let us bear this awful corpse to Caesar,  To swell in show, and be a wretch in state.
And lay it in his sight, that it may stand  At plays you ogle, at the ring you bow;
A fence betwixt us and the victor's wrath:  E'en churches are no sanctuaries now:
Cato, though dead, shall still protect his friends.  There, golden idols all your vows receive,
She is no goddess that has nought to give.
From hence, let fierce contending nations know, Sh e is n o goddess th  has nought to give.
What dire effects from civil discord flow:   Oh, may once more the happy age appear,'Tis this that shakes our country with alarms,
And gives up Rome a prey to Roman arms;     When gced grandeur wre unen
Produces fraud, and cruelty, and strife,    When gold and grandeur were unenvied things,
droduces fraud, and crueltyworld, and strlife, [E And courts less coveted than groves and springs
And robs the guilty world of Cato's life. [Exeunt. Love then shall only mourn when truth cont.
plains,
And constancy feel transport in its chains:
Sighs with success their own soft anguish tell,
WRITTEN BY DR. GARTH.              And eyes shall utter what the lips conceal:
Virtue again to its bright station climb,
WHAT odd fantastic things we women do!    And beauty fear no enemy but time;
Who would not listen when young lovers woo.   The fair shall listen to desert alone,
But die a maid, yet have the choice of two!  And every Lucia find a Cato's son.




FORTUNE'S FROLIC:
A FARCE,
IN TWO ACTS.
BY JOHN TILL ALLINGHAM, EsQ.
REMARKS.
THIs excellent farce turns on the circumstance of an honest peasant succeeding to the title and estate of a
ord, and on the use that he makes of his unexpectedly-acquired wealth; being thus enabled to evince feelings
that would confer honour on the noblest hereditary rank. ".Proud wealth!" exclaims Frank, " look here for an
example I" —The proudest, indeed, need not be ashamed to follow it.
This after-piece continues, as it well deserves to be, a favourite with the theatrical part of the public.
DRAMATIS PERSON.,E.
DRURY LANE, 1814.                            DRURY LANE, 1814,
ROBIN ROUGHEAD,...............Mr. Tokely.   VILLAGER.Mr. Webb
SNACKS,...                   Mr. Maddocks.
MR. FRANK...................Mr. Cooke.  MIss NANCY................. rs. Scott.
RATTLE,...            Mr. J. Wallack. DOLLY,............Mrs. Orger.
CLOWN,........Mr. Chatterley.  MARGERY,..........              Mrs. Sparks
SERVANT,.......r. J. West.
ACT I.                        Snacks. Very pretty, indeed! You are a very
SCENE I.-A Hall in the Castle.         modest man, Mr. Frank: you've spent your last
shilling in quarrelling with me, and now you want
Enter MR. FRANK.                me to help you.
Frank. To what humiliation has mybad fortune   Frank. The farm called Hundred Acres is at
reduced me, when it brings me here an humble present untenanted-I wish to rent it.
suppliant to my base oppressor!               Snacks. You wish to rent it, do you? And
pray, Sir, where's your money 2 And what do
Enter SNACKS, speaking.           you know about farming?
Snacks. A letter for me by express! What can   Frank. I have studied agriculture; and, with
it be about'  Something of great consequence care, have no doubt of being able to pay my rent
from my lord, I suppose.-Frank here! What the regularly.
devil can he want' —Come a begging though, I   Snacks. But I havea great doubtabout it.-No,
dare say.                                    no, Sir; do you think I'm  so unmindful of his
Frank. Good morning to you, Mr. Snacks.   lordship's interest as to let his land to a poor novice
Snacks. Good morning.             [Coldly. like you'?  It wont do, Mr. Frank; I can't think
Frank. I'm come, Sir, to-I say, Sir, I'm  of it-Good day, friend; good day.
come to-                                                            [Showing him the door.
Snacks. Well, Sir, I see you are come; and   Frank. My necessities, Sirwhat then? What are you come for, Sir?       Snacks. I have nothing to do with your necesFrank. The termination of the lawsuit which sities, Sir; I have other business —Good dayyou have so long carried on against me, owing to There's the door.
my entire inability to prosecute it any further, has   Frank. Unfeeling wretch!
thrown me into difficulties which I cannot sur-   Snacks. What!
mount without your kind assistance.            Frank. But what could I expect? Think ad
VOL. I.... 2 R        27                                                   313




314                       FORTUNE'S FROLIC.                                     [AOT I.
thou sordid man,'tis for myself 1 sue-my wife. as you for a father. Snacks, your wife most cer
my children-'tis for them I ask your aid, or else tainly made a cuckold of you; it could not be else.
my pride had never stooped so low! my honest   Snacks. Impudent rascal!
poverty is no disgrace: your ill-gotten gold gives   Rat. But it signifies not who her father is; Miss
you no advantage over me; for I had rather feel Nancy is lovely, and I'll marry her. Let me seemy heart beat freely, as it does now, than know  five thousand pounds you promised; yes, you shall
that 1 possessed your wealth, and load it with give her that on the wedding-day. You have been
the crimes entailed upon it.          [Exit; asteward a long time; that sum must be a mere
Snacks. A mighty fine speech, truly! [ think flea-bite to you.
I'll try if I can't lower your tone a little, my fine,   Snacks. I rather think I shall never give her a
blustering fellow: I'll have you laid by the heels farthing if she marries such a paltry fellow as you.
before night for this. Proud as you are, you'll   Rat. Why lookye; I'm a lively spark, with a
have time to reflect in a jail, and bring down your good deal of fire in me, and it is not a little matter
spirit a little. But come, let me see what my let- that will put me out: where others sink, I rise:
ter says. What a deal of time I've lost with that and this opposition of yours will only serve to
beggar!                            [Reads. blow me into a blaze that will burn you up to
Sir, —This is to inform you that my Lord cinder. I'm up to your gossip; I'm not to be had.
Lackwit died    an heir to his estate-his   Snacks. No, nor my daughter's not to be had,
lordship never acknowledged her as his wife-   Mr. Banker's Clerk; so. sha'n't. waste any more
son called Robin Roughead- Robin is the legal time with you: go, and take in the flats in Lomheir to the estate-to put him  in immediate bard-street; it wont do here.          [Exit.
possession, according to his lordship's last will     Rat. Oh! what he has mizzled, has he? 1 fancy
and testament.  Yours to command,            you'll find me the most troublesome blade you
KIT CODICILT, Attorney at law. ever settled an account with, old Raise-rent. I'll
Here's a catastrophe! Robin Roughead a lord! astonish you some how or other. I wonder what
My stewardship has done pretty well for me al- has changed him so!
ready, but I think I shall make-it do better now.         Enter Miss NANCY.
I know this Robin very well; her's devilish cunning, I'm afraid;  but I'll tickle him. He shall Ah, my sweet, little; rural angel!  How fares it
marry my daughter-then I can do as I please. with you   You smile like a May morning
To be. sure I have given my promise to Rattle;   Nan. The pleasure of seeing you always makes
but what of that? he hasn't got it under my hand. meI think I had better tell Robin this news at once;   Rat. Indeed  give me a kiss then. I love you
it will make him mad-and then I shall do as I well enough to marry you without a farthing; but
please with him. Ay, ay, I'll go. How unfor- I think I may as well have the five thousand
tunate that I did not make friends with him be- pounds, if it's only to tease old Long-purse.
fore! He has no great reason to like me:; I never   Nan. Oh, you know you have his promise for
gave him any thing but hard words.-[RATTLE  that.
sings without.] Confound it, here's that fellow    Rat. Yes, but he says he has  forgot all about
Rattle coming.                               that, though it was no longer ago than yesterday;
and he says I sha'n't have you.
Enter RATTLE.                    Nan. Does he, indeed?
Rat. Ah, my old daddy! how are you —         Rat. Yes; but never mind that.
What! have you got the mumps-ca't you speak    N an. I thought you said -you loved me -
Snacks. I wish you had the mumps, and could   Rat. And so I do, better than all the gold m
not speak. What do you old daddy me for?     Lombard-street.
Rat. Why, father-in-law: curse me but you   Nan. Then why are you not sorry that my faare most conceitedly crusty to-day; what's the ther wont give his consent 
matter with you? why you are as melancholy as   Rao. His consenta! I have got yours and my
a lame duck.                                 own, and I'll soon manage him. Don't you reaSnacmks. The matter isthat I am sick.     member how I frightened him one night, when I
Rat. What's your disorder I               came to visit you by stealth, dressed like a ghost,
Snacks. A surfeit: I've had too much of you.  which he thinks haunts the castle? Oh! I'll turn:Rat. Oh! you'll soon get the better of that; that to account. I know he's very superstitious
for when I've married your daughter, curse me if and easily frightened into any thing. Come, let's
I shall trouble you much with my company!   take a walk, and plot how I, your knight-errant,
Snacks. But you haven't married her yet.   shall deliver you from this haunted castle.
Rat. Oh, but I shall soon; I have got your                                     [Exeunt.
promise, you know.                 -SCENE II.-A Corn-field.
Snacks. Can't remember any such thing.
Rat. No! your memory's very short then.  ROBIN ROUGHEAD discovered, binding up a sheaf.
Sn.acks.  A short memory's very convenient,   Rob. Ah! work, work work, all day long, and
sometimes.                                   no such thing as stopping a moment to rest! for
Rat. And so is a short stick; and I've a great: there's old Snacks the steward, always upon the
mind to try the utility of it now. I tell you what, look out; and if he sees one, slap he has it down
Snacks,-I always-thought you was a -damned in his book, and then there's sixpence gone plump.
old rascal; but now I'm sure of it: it's no matter,  Coming forward.] I do hate that old chap, and
though: I'll marry your daughter notwithstanding. that's the truth on't. Now, if I was lord of this
Snacks. You will-will you?.:              place, I'd make one rule-there should be no
Rat. Yes, Snacks, I' will; for-'I love- her. I! such thing as work; it should be one long holiday
wonder how the devil such a pretty girl ever came all the year round. Your great folks have strange
to:have such a queer, little, shlrivelled; old mopstick  whims in their heads, that's for sartin.  I




w4IpN II.J                 F O RT U NE-'S  FRO LIC.                                 315
don't know  what to make of'un, not 1. Now  therefore sent you the necessary writings to put
there -'s all yon great park there, kept for his lord- him into immediate possession, according to his
ship to look:at, a:nd his- lordship has: not seen it lordship's-last will and testament. Yoursto comthese twelve years    Ah! if it was mine, I'd mand,         KIT CODICIL, Attorney at Law.
let all the villagers turn their cows in there, and    Rob. What!-What all mine?' the houses
it should not cost -'em a -farthing; then, as the'the trees, the fields, the hedges, the ditches, the
parson said -last Sunday, I should be as rich as gates, the horses, the dogs, the cats, the cocks and
any in the land, for I should have the blessings of  the hens, and the cows and the bulls, and the pigs
the poor. Dang it! here comes Snacks: Now I and the-What! are'they all mine? and I, Robin
shall get a fine jobation, I suppose.        Roughead, am the rightful lord of all this estate!
nter SNACSDon't keep me a minute now, but tell me it is
Enter SsAC~s, bowing very obsequiously; ROBIN
takes his hat of, and stands staring at him.   so-Make haste, tell me-quick, quick
tares,o and stands staring at h~im.  Snacks. I repeat it, the whole estate is yours.
Rob. I be main tired, Master Snacks; so I stopt   Rob. Huzza I Huzza! [Catches of SNACKS' hat
to rest myself a little; I hope you'll excuse it.-    and wig.] Set the bells a ringing; set the ale a
I wonder what the dickens he's grinning at.  running; make every body drunk-if there's a
[Aside. sober man to be found any where to-day he shall
Snacks. Excuse it! I hope your lordship's in- be put in the stocks. Go get my hat full of guifinite goodness and condescension will excuse your neas to make a scramble with; call all the tenants
lordship's most obsequious, devoted, and very together. I'll lower the rents-I'llhumble servant, Timothy Snacks, who is come   Snacks. I hope your lordship will do me the
into- the presence of your lordship, for the purpose favour toof informing your lordship-                    Rob. Why, that may be as it happens; I can't
Rob. Lordship! he, he, he! Ecod! I never tell.           [ Carelessly.
knew as'I nad a hump before. Why, Master   Snacks. Will your lordship dine at the castle
Snacks, you grow funny in your old age.      to-day?
Snacks.- No, my lord, 1 know my duty better;   Rob. Yes.
Ishould never think of being funny with a lord.'Snacks. What would your lordship choose for
Rob. What lord? Oh, you mean the Lord Har- dinner?
ry, I suppose. No, no,  must not be too funny' Rob. Beef-steaks and onions, and plenty of'em.
with him, or he'll be after playing the very devil   Snacks. Beef-steaks and onions! What a dish
with you.                                    for a lord!-He'll be a savoury bit for: my daughSnacks. I say, I should never think of jesting ter, though.:[Aside.
with a person of your lordship's dignified character.:''Rob. What are you at there, Snacks? Go, get
Rob. Did-dig-What! Why now I look at me the guineas-make haste; I'll have the scramyou, I see how -it is: you are mad. I wonder'ble, and then I'll go to Dolly, and tell her the news.
what quarter the moon's in. Lord! how your   Snacks. Dolly! Pray, my lord, who's Dolly?
eyes roll!' I- never saw you'so before.   How    Rob. Why Dolly, is to be my lady, and your
came they to let you out alone 2  mistress, if I find you honest enough to keep you
Sinacks.'Your'lordship is most graciously pleased in my employ.
to be facetious.                    -: Snacks. He rather smokes me.. -   have a
Rob. Why, -what gammon are you at — Don't:beauteous daughter, who is allowed to be the very
come near me, for you have been bit by a mad pink of perfection.
dog; I'm sure you have.                        Rob. Damn your daughter! I have got some
Snacks. If your lordship, will be so kind as to thing else to think of: don't talk to me of your
read this letter, it would convince yourlordship- daughter; stir your stumps, and get the money.
Will your lordship condescend.           Snacks. 1 am your lordship's most obsequious
Rob. Why, I would condescend, but for a few  -Zounds! what a peer of the realm.
reasons, and one of'em is, that I can't read.                               [Aside; exit.
Snacks. I think your lordship is perfectly right;   Rob. Ha, ha, ha!:What work I will make in
for these pursuits are too low for'one of your the village!-Work! no, there shall be no such a
lordship's nobility...            thing-as work: it shall be all play.-VVWhere shall
Rob., Lordship, and lordship'  again! I'll tell I go? I'll go to-No, I wont go there; I'll go to
you what, Master Snacks'-let's have no- more of Farmer Iedgestake's, and tell him-No, I'll not
your fua, for I wont stand it any longer, for all go there -I'll go to-Damn it, I'll go no where;
you be steward here: my nome's Robin Roughead, yes, I will; I'll go every where; I'll be neither
and if you don't choose to (call me by that name, here, nor there, nor any where else. How pleased
I sha'n't answer you, that's flat. —[Aside.] I don't Dolly will be when she hears.like him well enough to stand his jokes.
Snacks. Why then, Master Robin, be so kind
as to attend' whilst I read this letter.    [Reads. Dick, Tom, Jack, how are you, my lads?Sir,-This is to inform you, that my Lord Here's news for you! Come stand round, make
Lackwit died this morning; after a very short a ring, and I'll make a bit of a speech to yout
illness; during which he declared that he had  r They all get round him.] First of all, I suppose
been married, and had an' heir to his estate: the Snacks has told you that I'm your landlord?
woman he married was commonly called, or known i  Vil. We are all glad of it.
by the natme, of'Roughedd: she was poor and' Rob. So am I; and I'll make yonall happy:
illiterate,: and,' through motives of shame, his I'll lower all your rents.
lordship never acknowledged her as his wife:    All. Huzza! Long live Lord Robin!
she has been dead some time.since, and left behind   Rob. You sha'n't pay no rent at all.
her a son called Robin Roughead: now this said    All. Huzza! huzza! long live Lord Robin!
Robin is the legal heir to the estate. I have   Rob. I'll have no poor people in the parish, for




316                       FORTUNES FROLIC.                                     LAaG
I'11 make'em all rich; I'll have no widows, for I'll   Dol. How did you come by that, Robin?
marry'em all. [Women shout.] I'll have no or-   Mar. What, a purse of gold' let me see.
phan children, for I'll father'em all myself; and  [Snatches it, and sits down to count the money,
if that's not doing as a lord should do, then I say    Dol. What have you been about Robin'
I know nothing about the matter-that's all.    Rob. No, I have not been about robbing; I
All. Huzza! Huzza!                       have been about being made a lord of, that's all.
Enter SNACKS.           Dol. What are you talking about?  Your
Enter SNACKS.
head's turn'd, I'm sure.
Snacks. I have brought your lordship the mo-   Rob. Well, I know it's turn'd; it's turned
ney.-He means to make'em fly, so I have taken from a clown's head to a lord's. I say, Dolly, how
care the guineas shall be all light.  [Aside. should you like to live in that nice place at the
Rob. Now then, young and old, great and small, top of the hill yonder?
little and tall, merry men all, here s among you-   Dol. Oh, I should like it very much, Robin; it
[Throws the money; they scramble.] Now you've is a nice cottage.
got your pockets filled, come to the castle, and I'll   Rob. Doant talk to me of cottages, I mean the
ill all your bellies for you.               castle 
[Villagers carry him of, shouting; SNACKS   Dol. Why, what is your head running upon?
follows.                              Mar. Every one golden guineas, as I'm a varSCENE III.-Inside of a neat Cottage; table tuous woman. Where did you get'em, Robin?
spreadfor Dinner.                Rob. Why, where there's more to be had.
MDiar. Ay, I always said Robin was a clever
MARGERY and DOLLY discovered.        lad.-I'll go and put these by.        [Exit.
Dot. There now, dinner's all ready, and I wish    Dol. Now, do tell me what you've been about.
Robin would come. Do you think I may take Where did you find all that money?
up the dumplings, mother?                     Rob. Dolly, Dolly, gee'us a buss, and I'll tell
Mlar. Ay, ay,.take'em up; I warrant him he'll thee all about it.
soon be here-he's always in pudding-time.    Dol. Twenty, an' you pleasen, Robin.
Dol. And well he may, for I'm sure you keep   Rob. First then, you must know that I am the
him sharp set enough.                       cleverest fellow in all these parts.
Mar. Hold your tongue, you baggage!  He   Dol. Well, I know'd that afore.
pays me but five shillings a week for board, lodg-   Rob. But I'll tell you how it is-it's because I
ing, and washing-I suppose he's not to be kept am the richest fellow in all these parts; and if I
like a lord for that, is he?  I wonder how vou'll haven't it here, I have it here-[Pointing to his
keep him when you get married, as you talk of!  head and his pocket.] That castle's mine, and
Dol. Oh, we shall contrive to make both ends all these fields, up to the very sky.
meet! and we shall do very well, I dare say: for   Dol. No, no; come, Robin, that wont do.
Robin loves me, and I loves Robin dearly.     Rob. Wont it 2-I think it will do very well.
Mar. Yes; but all your love wont keep the pot   Dol. No, no; you are running your rigs-1i
boiling, and Robin's as poor as Job.       know you are, Robin.
Dol. La, now, mother, don't be so cross!-Oh    Rob. It's all true, Dolly, as sure as the devil's
dear, the dinner will get cold, and the dumplings in Lunnun.
will be quite spoiled; I wish Robin would come.   Dot. What! are you in right down arnest?
[Robin sings without.] Oh, here he comes, in   Rob. Yes, I am-his lordship's dead, and he
one of his merry humours.                   has left word as how that my mother was his wife,
and I his son.
Enter RoBIN; he cools himself with his hat,  Dol. What!
then sings and dances.             Rob. Yes, Dolly, and you shall be my lady.
Why, Robin, what's the matter with you?       Dot. No! Shall I?
Rob. What! you haven't heard then? Oh, I'm    Rob. Yes. you shall.
glad of that! for I shall have the fun of telling you.   Dot. Ecod, that will be fine fun-my ladyDot. Well, sit down then, and eat your dinner;   Rob. Now, what do you think on't? 
I have made you some nice hard dumplings.     Dol. My lady-Lady RougheadRob. Dumplings! Damn dumnplings.            Rob. Why, Dolly!
noi. Damn dumplings-La, mother, he   Dol. Lady Roughead! Howitsounds!-Ha,
damlns dumplings.-Oh, what a shame! Do you ha, ha!               [Laughs immoderately.
know what you are saying, Robin?             Rob.'Gad I believe she's going into a high
Rob. Never talk to me of dumplings.       strike-Dolly! Dolly!   [Slapping her hands.
Mar. But I'll talk of dumplings though, indeed,   Dot. Ha, ha, ha!
I should'nt have thought of such behaviour: dum-   Rob. Doantye laugh so; I don't half like it.
plings are very wholesome food, quite good enough [Shakes her.] Dolly!
for you, I'm sure.             [ Very angry.   Dol. Oh, my dear Robin, I can't help laughing
Rob. Are they, mother Margery? [Upsets the to think of Lady Roughead.
table, and dances on the plates, 4-c. and sings.]   Rob. The wench will go beside herself to a
Tol de rol lol.                             sartainty.
MC/ar. Oh dear! the boy's mad; there's all my   Dot. But now is it true in arnest7?
crockery gone!        [Picking up the pieces.   Rob. Ay, as sure as you are there. But come
Dol. [Crying.] I did not think you could have what shall we do? where shall we go? Oh!
used us so; I am quite ashamed of you, Robin!  we'll go and see old mother Dickens; you know
Rob. Now doantyecry now, Dolly; doantyecry. she took my part, and was very kind to me when
Jol. I will cry, for you behave very ill.  poor mother died; and now she's very ill, and I'll?oh No, doantye, Dolly, doantye, now.-  go and give her something to comfort her old soul.
[Shows a purse. Lord! Lord! I have heard people say as riches




81.NE L]                  FORTUNE'S FROLIC.                                       317
wont make a body happy; but while it gives me man for paying his debts. Besides, if you only
the power of doing so much good, I'm sure I shall knowed how I feel all o'er me-it's a kind of abe the happiest dog alive.        [Exeunt. I could cry for joy.
Frank. What sympathy is in that honest boACT II.                    som! But how has this good fortune come to
SCEINE I.-The Road to the Castle.       you?
Rob. Why, that poor woman as you buried
Enter MR. FRANK.                was wife to his lordship: he has owned it on his
Frank. Well, then, to the house of wo I must death-bed, and left word as I'm his son.
return again. And can I take no comfort with    Frank. How strange are the vicissitudes of life!
me? nothing to cheer my loving wife and helpless   Rob. Now, Sir, 1 am but a simple lad, as a body
children?  What misery to see them want!     may say; and if you will but be so good as to help.EnterROBIN, unobserved by FRANK.  we with your advice, I shall take it very kind of
Enter ROBIN, unobserved by FRANK,      you, Sir.
Rob. Want! No, there shall be no such thing    Frank. I thank you for the good opinion you
is want where I am-Who talks of want 2       have of me; and as far as my poor abilities go,
Frank. My own distress I could bear well, very they shall be at your service.
well; but to see my helpless innocents enduring    Rob. Thank ye, Sir, thank ye! But pray
all the woes poverty brings with it, is more than  what bad luck made you so devilish poor?
I can bear.                                    Frank. It would take a long time to tell you
Rob. And more than I can bear too.         the story of my misfortunes; but I owe them to
[ Throws his hat upon the ground, and takes the oppression of Mr. Snacks, the steward.
money out of his pocket, which he throws   Rob. Snacks! Oh, damn un! I'll do for him
into it.                               soon: he's rotten here, Master Frank: I do think
Frank. To-day I almost fear they have not as how he's a damned old rogue.
tasted food.                                  -Frank. Judge not too harshly.
Rob. And I ha' been stuffing my damned guts   Rob. Come, Sir, will you go up to the castle?
enough to make'em burst.                      Frank. Excuse me; the relief which you have
[Drops more money into his hat. so generously given me, enables me to return to
Frank. How happy once my state! Where'er my family.
I turned my eyes, good fortune smiled upon me;   Rob. Well, but you'll come back?
then, did the poor e'er tell a tale of wo without   Frank. To-morrow.
relief?  Were not my doors open to the unfortu-   Rob. iNo-to-night-Doo'e favour me; I want
nate?                                       to speak to you.
Rob. How glad I be -as I be-a lord. Hey,   Frank. I have a long way to walk, and it will
what! Yes it is; Mr. Frank. Lord, Sir, I'm  be very-late before I can return; but I will refuse
very glad as I met with you.                 you nothing.
Frank. Why so, my friend?                   Rob. Thank ye, Sir; you're very kind; I shall
Rob. Because you be- mortal poor, and I be stay till you come, if it's all night.   [Exeunt.
mortal rich; and I'll share my last farthing with          Enter RATTLE.
you.
Frank. Thank you my kind lad. But what   Rat. Well, every thing's prepared for my atreason have you?                            tack on the castle to-night; and I dont much fear
Rob. What reason have I?  Why, you gave but I shall find means to terrify the enemy, and
me when 1 wanted it.                         make him surrender at discretion    Yes, yes,
Frank. I can't remember.                  Master Snacks, I shall soon be with you. [ShoutRob. Mayhap not; but that's no reason as I ing, music, and ringing of bells without. What
should forget it; it's a long time ago, too; but it a damned racket here is in the village to-day!-I
made such a mark here, that time wont rub it out. wonder what it's all about?
It's now fourteen years sin''poor mother died;
she was very ill one: day when you happened to              Enter ROBIN
come by our cottage, and saw me stand blubbering Holloa, there! Stop, my fine fellow. Pray can
at the door; I was then about this high. You you tell me what all this uproar is about in the
took me by the hand; and I shall never forget the village?
look you gave me, when you axed me what was   Rob. Why, yoube Master Rattle from Lunnun.
the matter with me; and when I told you, you   Rat. Well, I don't want to be told that.
called me a good lad, and went in and talked to   Rob. Gee us your hand, Rattle, thou bee'st a
mother. From that time you came to see her damned honest fellow, and I like thee; I do indeed.
every day, and gave her all the help as you could;   Rat. Very familiar, upon my word.
and when she died, poor soul! you buried her:   Rob. I liked you ever sin' you let old Toppin
and if ever I forget such kindness, I hope good have the three pounds to pay his rent with; ana
lack will for ever forget me!               now whilst I think on't, here'tis again —take it,
Frank. Tell me your name; it will remind me. for I wont let any body give away money here but
Rob. Robin Roughead, your honour; to-day I myself.
be come to be lord of all this estate; and the first   Rat. Why, what in the name of wonder is all
ood I find of it is, that I am able to make you this? What are you at. I think I'll open a shop
ppy-[Stufflng the money into his pockets.] here for the sale of bad debts.
me up to the castle, and I'll give you as much   Rob. Here, take the money.
mbney as you can carry away in a sack.         Rat. Put it up, my fine fellow! you'll want it,
Frank. Proud wealth, look here for an example! perhaps.
AMy generous heart, how shall I thank you 7    Rob. Me want money! Shall I lend you an
Rob. Lord! Lord! doant think of thanking a odd thousand, and set you up in a shop I
27'




318                         F O RTUNE'S F:R O L 1C.                               aIr 
Rat. Why, who the devil are you?                  whole of this scene. SNACKS is alarmea
Rob. Why doan't you know? I be Robin.             lest ROBIN should hear har.
Rat. Robin, are you?'Egad, I think you sing   Mlar. Such matters as consarn nobody but
like a goldfinch.                             themselves, and you must not meddle with them.
Rob.- Very well, Rattle, that's.a good joke.  Snacks. Curse that old devil, what a tongue
Rat. Why, curse me, if 1 am up to you, Master: she has'! I shall never be able to manage her.
Robin; you are queering me, I believe.-..-.  [Aside.] You can't see his lordship, he'sengaged.
Rob. Well, I shall be. glad to see thee at the......             [To DLLY.
castle, Rattle. You see, I'm not ashamed.of.M   Dol. Yes, I. know his lordship's engaged, for
old acquaintance, as some folks are....-.    he promised me a long while ago.
Rat. Not ashamed of his old acquaintance!   Snacks. Oh, then you, are the poor unfortunate
Why, what do you mean.                       young woman that-.
Rob. I can't stop to talk to you any longer —    Mar. [Very angry.] No, Sir: she is the lucky
Good by, Rattle; thou bee'st an honest fellow;: young woman that is to be my lady; and I'd have
and I shall be glad to see thee at the castle. [Exit.. you to. know that I'm her mother.:..Rat. I declare I'm quite dumb-foundered.-,   Snacks. Ah, poor sou! I pity her,.I do indeed,
And have I lived all my days in Lombard-street from -the bottom of my heart.        ~....
for this-to be hummed by a clown? [Laughing, l:.Mar. But she: is. not: to-be pitied;:I shouldn't
music, ringing  of bells, 4;.c. without.] I. believe: have thought of that! —pity, indeed!..
the people are all mad to-day; 1 can't think what   Snacks. Poor dear creature! it's a sad job, but
they are at.                                  it can't be helped: his lordship is going to be
married to-morrow to another woman.
Onter CLOWN, in a hurry.              Do. What
Here, here, Hob!: I want to speak with your.    Snacks. It's true, indeed; I am very sorry.
Clown. You mun meak heast then, for. I be.Mar. And she is not to be my lady, after all!
going to dine wi' my lord, and I shall be. too late.    Snacks. No, poor girl!
Rat. Weugh! What, are you drunk?..Dol. And Robin has quite forgot me! [CryClown. Noa, noa, but I soon shall be, I take it, ing.] Oh dear, oh dear.! --   was afraid how it
for there's plenty o'yeale to be gotton..  would be when he came to be a lord-and has he
Rat. Plenty o'yale to be gotten, is there?  quite forgot me?
Clown. Ees, I shall have a rare swig at it.   Snacks. Yes, he told me to tell you that he has
Rat. Pray, my fine fellow, can you tell me what done with you.
the bells are ringing for?  Mar. [ Very noisy.] But I have not done with
Clown. Ees, to be sure I con.               him though-pretty work indeed; but I'll ring
Rat. Well, what is it?                      a peal in his ears, that shall bring him to his
Clown. Why, it's bekeas they do pull the ropes, senses, I warrant; I'll teach him to use. my daughI tell thee.-[ Gets round.] Dinner will all get ter ill-he's a rogue, a rascal, a scapegallows, a vayeaton up whilst I:stond here talking wi' you..  gabond; I'll find him out-..I'll-.
[Runs of; RATTLE runs after him, and    Snacks..[ Trying.to appease her.] Hush! hush
brings him back.                       Mar. I'll raise the dead, I will.
Rat. You are a very communicative young fel-   Snacks. Be cool, be cool!-Robin will cer
low, indeed  -  I.have learned one thing.from you, tainly. hear this old bell-weather, and I shall be
however-that: there's plenty'of,eating and  blown.                                [Aside
drinking going on; so I'll.try if I can't.be in. at. Mar...I'll make him down on his knees, I will;
the death. Now,: start fair, and the devil take-the I'd have him to know, that though he is a lord,
hindmost..    [They run off. he shall remember his promise; I' play the very
devil with him, if I can find him, I'm in such a
SCENE II.-A Hall in the Castle. iA door   passion,.I co.uld.tear hiseyes out:.oh, if I can but
leading to an inner apartment.  -     see him.-!.       [Going; SNAcKs stops her.
SSnacks., Here,, here; stop, stop-I'll go and
bring  him  to you.-Curse her old  throat!
Snacks. Tell her to come this way. A.young  [Aside.] Only just walk in here a moment, I'll
woman wanting Robin-!-This must be his talk to him:myself; I will indeed; perhaps I shall
sweetheart Dolly, that he talks so much about; bring -him round, my dear.
they must not come together.; if:theydo, it will.Dol. Thank ye, Sir; tell him I'll: kill myself
knock up all my plan. —What shall I do with  if he doesn't marry me..-             Goes in.
her? if I could but get her.into room, she'd be: 2Mfar.:-And tell him I'll kill him -if he doesn't
safe enough. —here she is.................. marry her.... [Goes in.. SNACKS locks the door.
Enter DOLLY ando MARGERY. -              ~Snacks. *Vell, they are safe for the presentI wish they were out of. the house though. If I
Are you the. young woman-that wanted to speak can; but bring this marriage. to bear, I'm a made
with his lordship.....:  man. I have been very careful of the old lord's
Dol. Yes, Sir,.             money,a.nd I should like to take care of a little of
Snacks. And pray what might you want with  the young. lord's money: if I can but marry. the
him? 1girl and him,'ll soon double the twenty-six
SMar. She wants to settle some matters of her thousand pounds I have in the  five. per cents.
own with him.                                 sacked from my old master.
Dol. Yes, that's all, Sir.                    Rat. [Without, in a hollow voice.] Villanous
Snacks. I dare say! But I must know what robber!
these matters are.                              Snacks. O Lord! what's that q-{Pauses.] It
[M.ARGERYfeels herself of great importance, has put -me in such a fright-; —that ghost's abroad
and is particularly noisy through the again-.What else could. it be? I am afraid to




SCOENi v.]                 FORTUNE'S FROLIC.                                      319
open my eyes for fear he should stare me in the -Come, Snacks, you must dance; it's my will.
face: I confess I've been a rogue, but it's never   Snacks. Indeed I'm not able.
too late to: mend.. Say no more, and I'll make   Rob.. Not able! Oh, shameful,. shamefult
amends, indeed I will. [_Gets near the door.] —   Come, come, you must dance;it's my will.
Upon my soul, I -will-upon the word of an                                   [Whips him.
honest man. I will.             [Sneaks o      Snacks. Must I?-Then here. goes- - 
[Hops about.
Enter RATTLE.                   Rob. What, d'ye call that dancing fit for a lord?
Rat. Ha, ha, ha! I think I gave his conscience Come, quicker, quicker-[ Whips Snacks round
a kick there; twenty-six thousand pounds in the the stage, who roars out.]-There, that will do;
five per cents. — let me remember that- I'm  now go and order John the carter the pony —will
up to your tricks, Mr. Snacks; but you sha'n't you 
carry on.your scheme much longer, if I have any    Snacks. What a cunning dog it is!-he's up
skill- If I don't quicken your memory. a little; to me now. but I think I shall be down upon him
I'll give over conjuring, and set up a chandler's by and by-                [Aside; exit.
shop.                                [Exit.   Rob. Ha, ha, ha! how he hopped about and
SCENE 111.-A  handsome Apartment in the - halloo'd-but I'll work him a little more yet.
Castle. A table with wines, ~4c.                   Re-enter SNACKS.
ROBIN and SNACKS discovered.         Well, Snacks, what d'ye think of your dancingRob. [Rather tipsy.] Well, Snacks, this is. master?.
very good stuff. I don't know as ever I drank    Snacks. I hope your lordship wont give me any
any before; — what do you call this, Snacks.more lessons at present; for, to say the truth, 1
Snacks. Port wine, an't please your lordship.  don't much like the accompaniment.
- Rob.:-Yes,: Port: wine pleases his lordship-I   Rob. You must have a lesson every day, or
wonder where this~ comes from!   Oh! from!you'll forget the step.
tne Red Sea, I suppose.       -                Snacks. No:-,your lordship has taken care that
Snacks. No, my lord: there's plenty of spirits I sha'n't forget it for some time.
thtere, but not wirne, I believe.  -  -;Rob. I can't think.where Dolly is; I told her
Rob. Well, one more thing full; only one, be- to come to me.
cause you know, now I am a lord, I must not make,Snacks. Oh, don't think of her.
a beast of myself-that's not like a nobleman,   Rob. Not think of her!-why, pray?
you know.                                      Snacks. Oh, she's aSnacks. Your lordship must do as your lordship   Rob. A what?-Take care, or T shall make you
pleases.                                     dance another hornpipe.
Rob. Must I  then give us t'other sup.       Snacks. I only mean to say, that she's too low
Snacks. I think his lordship is getting rather. for your lordship..
forward  - I'll bring mydaughter-uponithe carpet   Rob. Too low! why what was I just now
presently.                          [Aside.' if I thought riches would make me such a rascal
Enter SERVANT,               -as to use the poor girl ill-a fig for.'em all.; I'd
give'em up, and be plain Robin, honest Robin,
Serv. Please you, Master Snacks, here's John  again. No:-I've given Dolly.my promise, and
the' carter says he's,. so lame he can't walk,:and.  I'11 never break it.
he hopes you'll let him have a pony, to-morrow,   Snacks. My daughter's very beautiful.
to ride by the waggon...'Rob. Dang it, you talk a great deal:-come,
Snacks. Can't walk, can't he?- lame,:is he?  we'll go and have a look at her.  [Exeunt
Serv. Yes, Sir.
Snacks. And what does he mean by being lamel  SCENE I4V.-A Chamber, with a picture
at this busy time — tell him he must walk;, it's      hanging over a closet-door.
my will.
Enter RATTLE and MISS NANCY.
Rob. You, Sir, bring me John's whip, will you?  Enter RATTLE and M
[Exit SERVANT.] That's right, Snacks; damn   Rat. Well, you see I've gained admission, notthe fellow, what business has he to be lame!  withstanding your father's order to the contrary.
Snacks. Oh, please your lordship, it's as much    Nan. Yes; but how do you mean to get his
as I can do to keep these fellows in order.  consent toRob. Oh, they are sad dogs-not walk, in-   Rat. Why, as to his consent, I.don't value it
deed! I never heard of such impudence.      a button: but then five thousand pounds is a sum
Snacks. Oh, shameful, shameful! if 1 was be- not to be sneezed at. I have given the old boy a
hind him, I'd make him walk.                bit of a hint to-night that he didn't much relish.
Nan. I expect my father here every minute.
Enter a Servant, with. a whip, which he gives to with his new-made lordship.
ROBIN.                      Rat. Indeed! then only hide me in this room,
Rob. Come, Snacks, dance me a hornpipe.   and the business is done.
Snacks. What?                              Nan. That I will, where nobody can find you,'Rob. A hornpipe.                          I'm sure;-I have a closet behind this picture of
Snacks. A hornpipe!-  can't dance my lord.'the old lord, made, I believe, to hide the family
Rob. Come none of your nonsense; I know  plate and jewels in; but it's quite forgotten now.
you can dance; why, you was made for dancing —                               [ Opens it.
there's a leg and foot-Come, begin!          Rat. Oh, it was made on purpose for me: I'll
Snacks. -Here's no music.                put a jewel into it presently-Here [Gives a paRob. Isn't there? then I'll soon make some- per.]-let this lie carelessly on the table; it's worth
Lookye, here's my fiddlestick; how d'ye like it 1 five thousand pounds.




320                         FORTUNE'S FROLIC.                                   [ACT L.
Snacks. [Without.] This way, this way, my   Rat. How do you do? how are you?
lord.                                          Snacks. Give me the paper.
Rat. 0, damn it! here they come; tell him    Rat. Not a word-twenty-six thousand pounds
you've been frightened by a ghost; and if he in the five per cents.-Now, dear Nancy, you are
signs the.paper, give a loud cough.          mine, and five thousand pounds.
[Puts the paper on the table, and exit into the   Snacks. You to rebel against me too, you bag
closet.                               gage.
Enter SNACKS and ROBIN.lMar.  [Without.] Only let me catch hold of
him. I'll give it him-an old, abominableSnacks. There, there she is-isn't she a beauty.  What do you say now.                               Enter MARGERY.
Rob. Why, I say she is not fit to hold a candle Oh, you are there, are you?-You wicked wretch
to my Dolly.                                -let me get at him-[Runs after SNACKS, arnd
Nan. Pretty courtship, indeed.            beats him.] —A pretty pack of lies you have told;
Snacks. Ah, you'll alter your mind soon; I you old ragamuffin, you.
know you will. Come, let's sit down and talk ofBIN and DOLLY.
it.                               [They sit.
Nan. [ To SNACKS.] Oh, my dear Sir, I've been    Rob. What! are you there, Rattle?
so frightened-Do you know I think I've seen the   Rat. Yes, I'm the ghost-Hear!
very ghost that alarmed you so once.          Rob. Why you frighted old Honesty a little.
Snacks. A what.? a ghost?-O Lord, I hope                Enter SERVANT.
not. I hate the very sight of'em:-It's very odd;   Serv. Please you, Master Snacks, the balf
Serv. Please you, Master Snacks, the bailiff
but-[Starting.] didn't I hear a noise?
Nan. Oh, Sir, that's a very common thing in ha' gotten Mr. Frank, and are bringing him here.
this part of the castle; I have been most terribly   Rob. What! the bailiffs got him c-Oh, you
frightened lately.                          old rascal! [To SNACKS.]-Let him come here in
Rob. Why, what frightened you?-We are all a moment! [Exit SERVANT.] —Oh, Snacks, I'm
wood people here;* they wont hurt us-will they, sorry for you; for I'm sure you can't be happy:Sgnacks?                                   a man as does so much harm, and so little good,
Snacks. No, no-they-that is-   [Alarmed. never can be happy, I'm sure:Rat. [From behind.] Hear!                              Enter MR. FRANK.
Rob. What?                                I be very sorry as they used you so, Mr. Frank,
Rat. Hear!                                but I couldn'tSnacks. Lord ha' mercy upon me!  [Kneels.   Frank. I know your heart too well to think
Rat. Offspring of mine, listen not to the advice you could.
of that wretch.                               Rob. I have a great favour to ask you, Mr. Frank:
Rob. I doan't intend it.                  you see we've rather found Snacks out!-now,
Rat. He'll betray you; your intended bride he will you-dang it, will you take care of me, and
has imprisoned in the yellow chamber: go, set her come and live in the castle with me, and give me
at liberty.                                 your advice?-you know how I mean;-teach me
Rob. What! my Dolly? —has he imprisoned a bit, you know.
her in the yellow chamber?-Oh, dang your old   Frank. You are too generous: but I accept
head!        [Knocks SNACKS down, and exit. your proffered'kindness; and, by my care and atRat. Wretch restore your ill-gotten wealth- tention to your welfare, will repay a small part of
ienty-six thousand pounds in the five per cents. the debt I owe you.
Snacks. I'll do any thing that you command.  Rob. Now, then, I am happy, with such a
Rat. Sign the paper before you.           friend as Mr. Frank-Dolly, we shall know how
[SNACKS signs the paper. NANCY coughs, to take care of ourselves and our neighbours-and
RATTLE jumps out of the closet, and I'll take care that poor folks shall bless the day as
takes the paper.                  made me a lord.                    [Exeunt.




THE PADLOCK:
A COMIC OOPERA,
IN TWO ACTS.
BY ISAAC BICKERSTAFF.
REMARKS.
Ttui pleasing entertainment was set to music by the late Mr. Charles Dibdin, who also played the part of
Mungo, in so capital and original a style, as to contribute greatly to the very uncommon success of this piece
which was acted fifty-three nights during its first season. The plot is principally taken from a Spanish novel, by
Cervantes, called, "The Jealous Husband."
DRAMATIS PERSONZE.
DON DIEGO.......................................Mr. Bellamy.
LEANDER....                                   Mr. Taylor.
MUNGO,..                                         Mr. Blanchard.
LEONORA,.............                          Miss Bolton.
URSULA......................Mr.................... Ms. Davenport.
Scholars, &c.
SCENE.-Salamanca.
ACT I.                       Diego. Where is Leonora 
Urs. In her chamber, Sir.
SCENE I.-A  Garden belonging to DON          Urs. In her chamber, Sir.
SCENE L-  aDIEGO'S House.  DoN  Diego. There is the key of it; there the key
of the best hall; there the key of the door upon
Enter DON DIEGO, musing.            the first flight of stairs; there the key of the
AIR-. DIEGO.                  door upon the second; this double locks thei
hatch below; and this the door that opens into
Thoughts to council-let me see-          the entr.
Hum-sto be or not to be-q                   Urs. I am acquainted with every ward of them.
A  husband, is the question.llow         Diego. You know, Ursula, when I took Leonora from her father and mother, she was to live
Say what men will,                  in the house with me three months; at the expiWedlock's a pill,                  ration of which time, I entered into a bond of
Bitter to swallow,                       four thousand pistoles, either to return her to
And hard of digestion.                  them spotless, with half that sum for a dowry, or
But fear makes the danger seem double:    make her my true and lawful wife.
Say, Hymen, what mischief can trouble      Urs. And, I warrant you, they came secretly
My peace, should I venture to try you 3  to inquire of me whether they might venture to
My'doors shall be lock'd,           trust your worship. "Lord!'. said 1, "I have
My windows be block'd;               lived with the gentleman nine years and three
No male in my house,:                quarters, come Lammas, and never saw  any
Not so much as a mouse;             thing uncivil by him in my life;"' nor no more I
Then horns, horns I defy you.            ever did; and, to let your worship know, if I had,
Diego. Ursula!                             you would have mistaken your person; for I blews
Heaven, though I'm poor, I'm honest, and would
Enter URSULA.                 not live with any man alive that should want to
Urs. Here, an't please your worship.       handle me unlawfully.
VOL. I....2 S                                                             321




322                          THE PADLOCK.                                      [ACTSL
Diego. Ursula, I do believe it; and you are Enter LEONORA,  with a Bird on her fingei,
particularly happy, that both your age and your  which she holds in the other hand by a string.
person exempt you from any such temptation.               AIR.-LEONORA.
But be this as it will, Leonora's parents, after
some little difficulty, consented to comply with    ite,   h   fter     t ing
my proposal; and, being fully satisfied with their  Whithe Your airy flight   wod you wing
daughter's temper and conduct, which I wanted     Your airy here and sing
Stay hsre, wand sing,
to be acquainted with, this day being the expira-       r, 
tion of the term, I am resolved to fulfil my bond,
by marrying her to-morrow.                      No, no, no,
Urs. Heaven bless you together.               Sweet Robin, you shall not go:
Diego. During the time she has lived with     Where, you wanton, could you be,
me, she has never been a moment out of my. Half so happy as with me?
sight: and now, tell me, Ursula, what have you'  Diego. [Comingforward.] Leonora.
observed in her?                              Leon. [Putting the Bird into the cage.] Here
Urs. All meekness and gentleness, your wor-'  am.
ship: and yet I warrant:you, shrewd and sensi- 7 Diego. Look me in the-'face, and listen to me
ble,'egad, when she pleases, she can be as sharp attentively.
as a needle.                                  Leon. There.
Diego. You have not been able to discover any   Diego. I am going this evening to your father
particular attachments?                     and mother, and I suppose you are not ignorant
Urs. Why, Sir, of late I have observed-   of thecauseofmyjourney. Areyouwillingto
Diego. Eh! how! what?                     be mywife?
Urs. That she has taken greatly to the young   Leon. I am willing to do whatever you and my
kitten.                                     father and mother please.
Diego. 0! is that all!t                    Diego. But that's not the thing; do you likf,
Urs. Ay, by my faith, I don't think she's mi?
fond of any thing else.                       Leon. Y-es.
Diego. Of me, Ursula?  Diego. What do you sigh for?
Urs. Ay, ay, of the kitten, and your worship,   Leon. I don't know.
and her birds, and going to mass. I have taken   Diego. When you came hither, you were
notice of late, that she is mighty fond of going taken from  a mean little house, ill situated,
to mass, as your worship lets her early of a and worse furnished; you had no servants, and
morning.                                    were obliged, with your mother, to do the work
Diego. Well! I am now: going to her parents, yourself.
to let them know my' resolutioni; I will not take   Leon. Yes; but when we had done, I could
her with me, because, having' been used to con- look out at the window, or go a walking into the
finement, and it being the life I am determined fields.'
she shall lead, it will be only' giving her a bad'Diego;'Perhaps, you dislike confinement?
habit. I shall return with the good folks to-   Leon. No, I don't,' I'am sure.
morrow morning; in the meantime, Ursula, I   Diego. I say, then, I took you from that mean
confide in your attention; and take care, as you habitation and hard labour, to a noble building,
would merit my favour.                      and this fine garden; where, so far from being a
Urs. I will, indeed, your worship; nay, if there slave, you are absolute mistress; and, instead of
is a widow gentlewoman in all Salamanca fitter wearing a mean stuff gown, look at yourself, I
to look after a young maiden -              beseech you; the dress you have on is fit for a
Diego. Go, and send Leonora to'me.        princess.
Leon. It's very fine, indeed.
AIR. —URSULA.                  Diego. Well, Leonora, you know in what
manner you have been treated since you have
I know the world, Sir, though I say't:    been my companion; ask yourself again now,
I'm cautious and wise,        0       whether you can be content to lead a life
And they who sur~prise: -with me according to the specimen you have
My prudence nodding                  had!
Must sit up late.                       Leon. Specimen!
Diego. Ay, according to the manner I have
Never fear, Sir,                     treated you-according —Your safety's here, Sir;               Leon. I'll do whatever you please.
Yes, yes,                               Diego. Then, my dear, give me a kiss.
I'll answer for Miss.-'                 Leon. Good bye to you.
Diego. Here, Ursula.
Let me alone,
I warrant my care                                        AIR.
Shall weigh to a hair,                    By some I am told
As much as your own.        [Exit.      That I'm wrinkled and old,
But I will not believe what they say;
Diego. I dreamed last night that I was going  I feel my blood mounting,
to church with Leonora, to be married, and that  Like streams in a fountal,
we were met on the road by a drove of oxen —      That merrily sparkle and:play.
oxen-I don't like oxen! I wish it had been a    For love I have will
drove of sheep.                    [Retires.    And abilitystill;




SCENE Im.1                    T H E  PADLOC K.                                  323
Odsbobs, I can scarcely refrain!        1 Schol. And so —
My diamond, my pearl-:            Leand. And so, Sir, he hath told me all the
Well, be a good girl,'                  secrets of his family; and one: worth knowing;
Until I come to you again.     [Exit. for he informed me last night, that his -master
Leon. Heigho! Hets very good to me, to be will this evening take a.short journey. into' the'
country, from whence he proposes not to return
sure, and it's my duty to love him, because we
sought not )S  to be ungrateful; but I wish' I was till to-morrow, leaving his young wife, that is to
ought not t0 be ungiateful;  but I wish I was,
be, behind him.
not to marry him for all that, though I'm afraid
2 Schol. Zounds! let's scale the wall.
to tell him so. Fine -feathers, they say, make.  Leand. Fair and softly; I will this instant go
fine birds; but I'm sure they don't make happy and put on my diguise  watch for theDon
ones; a sparrow is happier in -the fields, than'      t
ldfinch in a cage.  There is something going.out, attack my negro- afresh,: and- try, if
Flakesol  - me might  ueasy.' While Is. theg wasby his means, I cannot come into the house, or
TJaaesn  me mighty uneasy.  While he was at least get a sight of my charming angel.;
talking to me, I thought I never saw any thing    1 schot. Angel! is she then so andsomel
1 Schol. Angel! is she then so handsome?
so ugly in my life-O dear now, why did I for-  Leand. It s timefor us to withdraw   me
get to ask leave to go to mass to-morrow?  I
suppose, because' he's abroad, Ursula wont to my chambers, and there you shall know all
take me-I wish I had asked leave to go to you can desire.
mass..                                       SCENE III.-7he outside of DON DIEGo's
AIR.                       House; which appears with windows barred
Was I a shepherd maid, to keep              up, and an iron grate before an entry.
On yonder plains-a flock of sheep,'       Enter DON DIEGOfrom: the house, having first
Well-pleas'd, I'd watch the live-long day,  unlocked the door, and removed two or three
My ewes at feed, my lambs at-play.          bars which assisted in fastening it.
Or would some bird that pity brings,        Diego. With the precautions I have taken, I
But for a moment lend its wings,          think I run no risk in quitting my house for a
My parents then might rave and scold,     short time; *Leonora has- never shown the least
My guardian strive my will to hold;      inclination to deceive me; besides, my old woman
Their words are harsh, his walls are high,    is prudent and faithful; she has'all the keys,
But spite of all away I'd fly.     [Exit. and will'not part with them from herself; but
suppose-suppose-by the rood of St. Francis,
SCENE I. —A  Street in Salamanca.       I will not leave it in her power to do mischief;
Enter LEANDER and two SCHOLARS, in their a woman's not having it in her power to deceive
University gowns.             you, is the best security for her fidelity, and the
Leand. His name is Don Diego, there's his only one a wise man will confide in; fast bind,
house, like another monastery, or rather prison; safe bind, is an excellent proverb. I'll e'en lock
his servants are an ancient duenna, and u negro her up with the rest; there is a hasp to the door,
I slave-  -     - and I have a padlock within, which shall be m
1 Schol. And after having lived fifty years a guarantee; I will wait till the negro returns with
bachelor, this old fellow has picked up a young'
thing of sixteen, whom he by chance saw in' a ping them all up together, make  my mind easy
balcony!.                               by having the key they are under in my pocket.
2 Schol. And are you in love with the girl?'[Retires.
Leand. To desperation; and I believe I am         Enter MUNGO, with a hamper.
not indifferent to her; for, finding that her jea-   lt/fun. Go, get you down, you damn hamper,
lous guardian took her to: the chapel of a neigh- you carry me now. Curse my old massa, sendbouring convent every morning before it was ing me always here and dere for one something
light, 1 went there in the habit of a pilgrim, to make me tire like a mule —curse him imperplanting myself as. near her as I could; I then ance-and him damn insurance.
varied my appearance, continuing to do so -from    Diego. How now'
time to time, till I was convinced she had suffi-    Ailun. Ah, massa! bless your heart.
ciently remarked, and. understood my meaning.  Diego. What's that you are muttering, sirrah?
1 Schol. Well, Leander, I'll say that for you,   Mun. Noting, massa, only me say you very
there is not a more' industrious lad in. the uni- good massa.
versity. of. Salamanca, when a wench is to be  -Diego. What do you leave your load down
ferreted...'             there for?
2 Schol. But pr'ythee, tell us now how did   Mun. Massa, me lily tire.
you get information-2                         Diego. Take it up, rascal.
Leand. First from report, which raised my   Mun., Yes, bless your heart, massa.
curiosity; and afterwards from the negro I just   Diego. No, lay it down: now I think on't,
now mentioned; I observed that, when the fa- come hither.
mily was gone to bed, he often came to air him-.M un. What you say, massa?
self at yonder grate; you know I am no bad   Diego. Can you be honest?
chanter, nor a very scurvy minstrel; so, taking a   Mun. Me no savee, massa, you never ax me
guitar, clapping a black patch on my eye, and a: before.
swathe upon one of my legs, I soon scraped ac-   Diego. Can you tell truth?
quaintance with my friend Mungo. He adores   MIun. What yougive me, massa? 
my songs and sarabands; and, taking me for a   Diego. There's a pistreen for you;.now tell
poor cripple, often repays me with a share of his me, do you know of any ill going on in my
allowance; which I accept, to avoid suspicion.   house 




324                          THE PADLOCK.                                      [ACTL
Mun. Ah, massa, a damn deal.                Leand. I have got a bottle of delicious cordial
Diego. How! that I'm a stranger to?      here, given me by a charitable monk of a convent
~Miun. No, massa, you lick me every day with hard by, if your grace will please to taste it.
your rattan; I'm  sure, massa, that's mischief   Mun. Give me a sup tro a grate; come closee,
enough for poor neger man.                  man, don't be fear, old massa gone out, as I say
Diego. So, so.                            last night, and he no come back before to-morrow;
Mun. La, massa. how could you have a heart come, trike moosic, and give us song.
to lick poor neger man, as you lick me last   Leand. 1'11 give your worship a song I learned
Thursday'                                  in Barbary, when I was a slave among the Moors.
Diego. If you have not a mind I should chas-   Mun. Ay, do.
tise you now, hold your tongue.               Leand. There was a cruel and malicious Turk,
Mlun. Yes, massa, if you no lick me again.   who was called Heli Abdallah Mahomet Scah,
Diego. Listen to me, I say.               who had fifty wives and three hundred concuMun. You know, massa, me very good ser- bines.
vant —                                        M/lun. Poor man! what did he do wid'em all'
Diego. Then you will go on'  Leand. Now this wicked Turk had a fair
Mun. And ought to be use kine-            Christian slave named Jezebel, who not consentDiego.. If you utter another syllable-    ing to his beastly desires, he draws out his sabre,
-Mun. And I'm sure, massa, you can't deny and is going to cut off her head; here's what he
but I worky worky-I dress a victuals, and run says toher. [Sings and plays.] Now you shall
a errands, and wash a house, and make a beds, hear the slave's answer. ([Sings andplays.] Now
and scrub a shoes, and wait a table.        you shall hear how the wicked Turk, being greatDiego. Take that. [Strikes him.] Now will ly enraged, is again going to cut off the fair slave's
you listen to me?                          head. [Sings and plays again.] Now you shall
Mun. La, massa, if ever I saw-            hear —
Diego. I am going abroad, and shall not re-  1MIun. What signify me hear? —Me no underturn till to-morrow morning. During this night stand.
I charge you not to sleep a wink, but be watch-   Leand. Oh, you want something you underful as a lynx, and keep walking up and down stand'!  If your honour had said that —
the entry, that if you hear the least noise you   Urs. [Appears at the window above.] Mungo!
may alarm the family. Stay here, perverse ani- Mungo!
mal, take care that nobody approaches the door;   Mun. Some one call dereI am going in, and shall be out again in a mo-   Urs. Mungo, I say.
ment.                                [Exit.   Mun. What devil you want' 
Mun. So, I must be stay in a cold all night,   Urs. What lewd noise is that'
and have no sleep, and get no tanks neither;   Mun. Lewd yourself, no lewd here; play away,
then him call me tief, and rogue, and rascal, to never mind her.
tempt me.                                     Urs. I shall come down, if you go on.
AIR.                       Mliun. Ay, come along, more merrier: nothing
Dear heart, what a terrible life am I led!  here but poor man; he sing for bit of bread.
A dog has a better, that's shelter'd and fed:  Urs. I'll have no poor man near our door;
Night and day'tis de same,             harkye, fellow, can you play the Forsaken Maid's
My pain is dere game:                   Delight, or Black Bess of Castile' Ah, Mungo,
Me wish to d~e Lord me was dead.          if you had heard me sing when I was young.
wwMun.'Gad, I am sure I hear your voice often
Whate'er's to be done,                  enough now you old.
Poor blacky must run;                     Urs. I could quaver like any blackbird.
Mungo here, Mungo dere,                  3M/un. And now you halloo like a screech-owl.Mungo every where;                      Come, throw a poor soul a penny, he play a tune
Above and below,                        for you.
Sirrah, come; sirrah, go;                 Urs. How did you lose the use of your leg' 
Do so, and do so.                         Leand. In the wars, my good dame: I was
Oh!  oh!  taken by a Barbary corsair, and carried into SalMe wish to de Lord me was dead.    [Exit. lee, where I lived eleven years and three-quarters
upon cold water and the roots of the earth, withRe-enter DoN DEGO, With URSULA, who, after out having a coat on my back, or laying my head
the Negro goes in, appears to bolt the door on on a pillow: an infidel bought me for a slave: he
the inside: then DON DIEGO, unseen by them, gave me the strappado on my shoulders, and the
puts on a large Padlock and goes of. After bastinado on the soles of my feet: now, as I said,which, LEANDER enters disguised.         before, this infidel Turk had fifty-three wives, and
Leand. So-my old Argus is departed, and one hundred and twelve concubines.
the evening is as favourable for my design as I   Urs. Then he was an unreasonable villain.
could wish. Now to attract my friend Mungo;   Leon. [Appears at-another window.] Ursula!
if he is within hearing of my guitar, I am sure he    Urs. Odds my life; what's here to do! Go
will quickly make his appearance.           back, go back; fine work. we shall have indeed!
Mun. [Appears at the window.] Who goes good man, good bye.
dere?-.-Hip! hollo!                         Leon. I could not stay any longer by myself;
Leand. Heaven bless you, my worthy master, pray let me take a little air at the grate.
will your worship's honour' have a little music   Leand. Do, worthy Madam; let the young
this evening!                              gentlewoman stay: I'll play her a love song for
Mun. Stay you little-I come down.         nothing.
[Comes down to the grate.   Urs. No, no, none of your love-songs here; if




SCENE I.]                    THE  PADLOCK.                                      325
you could play a saraband indeed, and there was    But whenever we desire
room for one's motion  -                           Make him promise to retire.
Leand. I am but a poor man, but if your lady-   Urs. Nay, marry, he shall take his oath.
ship will let me in as far as the hall or the kitchen,   Leand.. By your eyes of heavenly blue,
you may all dance, and I sha'n't ask any thing.    By your lips' ambrosial dew;
Urs. Why, if it was not on my master's ac-      Your cheeks, where rose and lily blend:
count, I should think no harm in a little innocent  Your voice, the music of the spheres- -
recreation.                                  Mun. Lord o' mercy, how he swears!
M/Iun. Do, and let us dance.                     He makes my hairs
Leand. Has Madam the keys then  All stand an end!
Urs. Yes, yes, I have the keys.            Urs. Come, that's enough, ascend, ascend,
Leand. Have you the key of this padlock too,    Let's be happy while we may:
Madam? Here's a padlock upon the door, Hea-      Now the old one's far away,
yen help us, large enough for a state prison.     Laugh, and sing, and dance, and play;
Urs. Eh —how-what, a padlock!                   Harmless pleasure, why delav?
Mumn. Here it is, I feel it? adod, it's a tum- [Exeunt.
per.
Urs. He was afraid to trust me then.                     ACT II.
AMun. And if de house was a fire, we none of SCENE I.-A  Hall in DON DIEGO'S House
us get out to save ourselves.               with folding-doors, which open in the back
Leand. Well, Madam, not to disappoint you   scene.
and the young lady, I know the back of your On one side a staircase, leading to an apartment,
garden wall, and I'll undertake to get up at the
outside of it, if you can let me down on the   by  ich the characters pass up and don; 
other.                                       the other, a door leading to a cellar, which is
Urs. Do you think you could with your lame   so contrived, that a bottle and glass, two canleg?  dles, a guitar, and LEANDER'S disguise, may
Leand. 0 yes, Madam, I am very sure.       be placed upon it.
Urs. Then by my faith you shall, for now I'm  Enter URSULA, followed by LEANDER in X rich
set on't-A padlock! Mungo, come with me into                 habit.
the garden.                                  Urs. Oh, shame! out upon't, Sir, talk to me
[MUNGO and URSULA going. off, LEANDER no more; I that have been famed throughout all
and LEONORA are left together.  The Spain, as I may say, for virtue and discretion
first part qf the quartetto is sung by them  the very flower and quintessence of duennas! you
in duet; then MuNGo and URSULA return have cast a blot upon me, a blot upon my replone after another to the stations they had tation, that was as fair as a piece of white paper;
quitted.                             and now I shall be reviled, pointed at; nay, men
Leon. Pray, let me go with you.         will call me filthy names upon your account.
Leand. Stay, charming creature: why will you   Leand. What filthy names will they call you 
fly the youth that adores you?              Urs. They'll say I'm an old procuress.
Leon. Oh, Lord, I'm frightened out of my   Leand. Fie, fie, men know better things-beewits!                                    sides, though I have got admittance into your
Leand. Have you not taken notice, beauteous house, be assured I shall commit no outrage here;
Leonora, of the pilgrim who has so often met you and if I have been guilty of any indiscretion, let
at church? I am that pilgrim; one who would love be my excuse.
change shapes as often as Proteus, to be blessed    Urs. Well, as I live, he's a pretty young felwith a sight of you.                      low.
Leand. You, my sweet Ursula, have known
QUARTETT.-LEANDER, LEONORA, URSULA, and what it is to be in love, and I warrant have had
MUNGO.                   admirers often at your feet; your eyes still retain
Leand. 0 thou, whose charms enslave my fire enough to tell me that.
heart!                           Urs. They tell you no lie; for, to be sure,
In pity hear a youth complain:    when I was a young woman, I was greatly sought
Leon. I must not hear-dear youth, depart-  after; nay, it was reported that a youth died for
I'm certain I have no desert      love of me; one Joseph Perez, a tailor by trade,
A gentleman like you to gain.     of the grayhound make, lank; and, if my memory
Leand. Then do I seek your love in vain?    fail me not, his right shoulder about the breadth
Leon. It is another's right;'of my hand higher than his left: but he was upLeand. And he,                 -          right as an arrow, and, by all accounts, one of the
Distracting thought! must happy be,  finest workmen at a button-hole.
While I am doom'd to pain.          Leand. But where is Leonora?
Urs. Come round, young man, I've been to   Urs. Where is she? by my troth, I have shut
try.                            her up in her chamber, under three bolts and a
Mun. And so have I.                     double lock.
I'm sure the wall is not too high.  Leand. And will you not bring us together ~
If you please,                       Urs. Who, I?-How can you ask me such a
You'll mount with ease.            question? Really, Sir, I take it extremely unLeand. Can you to aid my bliss deny?    kind.
Shall it be so?                    Leand. Well, but you misapprehendIf you say no,                       Urs. I told you just now, that if you mentioned
I will not go.                    that to me again, it would make me sick; and so
Leon. I must consent, however loth;     lit has, turned me upside down's it were.
28




326                            THE PADLOCK                                    [ACT IL
Leand. Indeed, my best friend-                 When a string speak,
Urs. Oh, oh, hold me, or I shall fall.        Such moosic he make,
Leand. I will hold you.                       Me. soon am cur'd of tinking.
Urs. And do you feel any compassion for       Wid de toot, toot, toot,
me?                                             Of a merry flute,
Leand. I do.                                  And cymbalo,
Urs. Why truly you have a great deal to an-   And tymbalo
swer for, to bring tears into my eyes at this time  To boot,
o' day; I am sure they are the first I have shed  We dance and we sing,
qince my poor husband's death.                   Till we make a house ring,
Leand. Nay, don't think of that now.          And, tied in his garters, old massa may
[Urs. For you must understand, Sir, to play a     swing.                       [Exit.
trick upon a grave, discreet matron- And yet,      Re-enter LEONORA, with URSULA.
after all, by my faith, I don't wonder you should  e           R
love the young thing under my care; for it is one Leand. Oh, charming Leonora, how shall I
of the sweetest conditioned souls that ever I was express the rapture of my heart upon this occasion I I almost doubt the kindness of that chance
acquainted with; and between ourselves, our don- which' has brought me thus happily to see you
nee is too old for such a babe.
Leand. Ursula, take this gold.  to speak to you without restraint.
Ur-sd.  ~ Urs For- what e S hsir?    g.     Urs. Well, but it must not be without restraint,
Leand. Onlyfor the love ofme. S           it can't be without restraint, it can't, by my faithean   Only for tne love ox me.   now you are going to make me sick again.
Urs. Nay, if that be all, I wont refuse it; for      e
I love you, I assure you  you put me so much in   Leon. La, Ursula, I durst to say the gentlem in. Yo my.d.ea. hsbn.heP ws      man doesn't want to do me any harm-do you,
myder  usan;   was a ansoe Sir  I'm sure I would not hurt a hair of his
man; I remember he had a mole between his eye- head, nor nobody's else, for the lucre of the whole
brows, about the bigness of a hazel nut; but I world.
must say you have the advantage in the lower   Urs. Come, Sir, where is your lute   You
Dart of the countenance., 
part of the countenance,  growsamorou     shall see me dance a saraband-; or if you'd rather
eand. The old beldamgrows amorous-  have a song-or the child and I will have a miUrs. Lord love you, you're. nuet, if you choose grace before agility.
well-looking young   Leand. This fulsome harridan —I wish she
man.                                        was at the devil..            [Aside.
Leand. But Leonora
Leon. Ursula, what's the matter with you?
Urs. -Ha, ha; ha! but to pretend. you were    Urs. What's the matter with me!  Marry
lame.-I never saw a finer leg in my life.
lae-Ineveraw a  come up, what's the matter with you? Signor
LeandW. Leonora -I'm! -going.Diego can't show such a shape as that; well,
r s. Well, Sir, I'm g[oing  de.            there is nothing I like better than to see a young
Leand.- I shall never get rid of her.  [Aside. fellow with a well made leg.
Urs. SirLUend.rHow S now                            Leand. Pr'ythee, let us go away from her
~Leand~. How now..        Leon. I don't know how to do it, Sir.
-Urs. Would you be so kind, Sir, as to indulge   Lean    Nothing  more easy; I will go with my
me with the favour of a saluteNothin more easy;.
Leand. Ugh with the fSalutes her  guitar into the garden;'tis moonlight; take an
Urs. Gad-a-mercy. -your cheek-Well, well I opportunity to follow me there; I swear to you,
Urhave s      een the day; but no matter, my wine,   beautiful and innocent creature, you have nohave seen the day; but no matter, my wine s thi  t      Sh  d
upon the lees now; however, Sir, you- might have    ng o apprehend..
had the politeness when a gentlewoman made the   Leon. No, Sir, I am certain of that, with a
offer.                 hExita  gentleman such as you are; and that have taken
[ so much pains to come after me;. and I should
Enter MUNGO                  hold myself very ungrateful, if I did not do any
Mun. Ah! massa-You brave massa, now; thing to oblige you, in a civil way.
what you do here wid de old woman             Leand. Then you'll come?
Leon. I'11 do my best endeavours, Sir.
Leand. Where isyouryongmistess,-Mngo?   Leand And may I hope that you love me
Leands. Where isyour young mistress, Mungo?    Leon. I'll do my best endeavours, Sir.
JMVun.: By Gog, she lock her up. But why you   Leand. And may I hope~that you love me?
no tell me before time you a gentleman        Urs. Come, come, what collogung's here? 1
Leand. Sure- I have not given the purse for no- must see how things are going forward; besides,
thing. t':                    S.Sir, you. ought to know. that it is not manners to
Mun. Purse! what, yougiven hermoneyden?;b.e getting into corners,-and whispering before
-curse her-imperance, why you no give it me? company Ph 
— you give me something as well as she. You
know, massa, you see me first.                Urs. Ay, you may say your pleasure, Sir, but
Leand.~ There, there.; are you content?   I'm sure what I say is the right thing;: I should
hardly choose to venture in a corner with you.4/iun.:,Me get supper: ready, and: now me go                         I protest and vow.
to de cellar-But I say, massa, ax de old man myself; nay, I would not do it, I protest and vow.
now, what good him watchinghdo, him bolts and   Leand. Beautiful Leonora, I find my being
him bars, him walls and him. padlock 1      depends upon the blessing of your good opinion;
L~eand.- Hist!.:Leonora comes.   -.  do you desire to put an end to amy days'
Mun. But, masssa, you say you teach me play.   Leon No, indeed, ineed I don't.
Leand. But then-'AIR.                                        AIR.
Let me, when my heart, a sinking,         In vain you bid your captive live,
fIear: de sweet guitar a clinking;          While you the means of life deny;




SCINE 1.1                     THE. -PAD LOCK.                                     327
-Give.me your. smiles, your wishes give        We have but too much cause to fear..  To him who must without you die.          My guardian, when he comes to hear...Shut fr.om the sun's enliv'ning beam,   -'.'   We've had a man with.us, will kill
Bid flowers retain their scent and hue:     Me, you, and all; indeed, he will.: Its source dried up, bid flow the;stream,.   No penitence will pardon procure,
*.And me; exist, depriv'd of you.  [x-  - [Exit.  He'll kill us every soul, I'm sure. [Exeunt
Urrs. Let me sit down a little: comehither,' The Stage becomes dark; enter DON DIEGO, gropchild, I'am going to give you good advice, there-   ing his way, with the Padlock in his hand.
More listen to me, for I have more years over my    Diego. All dark, all quiet; gone to bed and
head than you.                              fast asleep, I warrant them; - however, I am not
Leon. Well, and what then'              sorry that I altered my first intention of staying
Urs. What then!-Marry, then you must. out the whole night; and meeting Leonora's' famind what I say to you-  as I said before-  ther on the road was at any rate a lucky incident.
but I say-what was I saying' 1 will not disturb them; but, since I have let myLeon. I'm sure, I don't know.              self in with my master-key, go softly to bed; I
iUrs. You see the young man that is gone out shall' be able to strike a light, and then I think I
there; he has been telling me that he's dying for may say'my cares -are over. Good Heavens!
love of you; can'you find in your heart to let him  what a wonderful deal of uneasiness may mortals
expire?                                     avoid by a little prudence! I doubt not now, there
Leon. I'm sur'e I won't do any thing bad.  are some men who would have gone out in my
Urs. Why, that's right; you learned that from. situation, and, trusting' to the goodness of fortune,
me; have I not said to you a thousand times, ne- left their house and'their honour in the care of
ver do any thing bad? have I not said it? an-'an inexperienced girl, or the discretion of a merswer me that.'-cenary servant. While he is abroad, he is torLeon. Well, and what then?               mented with fears and jealousies; and when he: Urs. Very well,' listen to me; your guardian is: returns home, he probably finds disorder, and perold, and ugly, and jealous, and yet.he may live haps shame. But what do I do?' I put a padlonger than a better man.                   lock on my door, then all is safe.
Leon. He has been very kind to me for all Enter MUNGO,from the Cellar, with a flask in
that, Ursula, and I ought to strive to please him.  one hand, and a candle in the other.
Urs. There again; have I not said to you a   MAlun. Tol, lol, lol.
thousand times that he was very kind'to you, and.  Diego. Hold; didn't I hear a noise'
you ought to strive to please him? It would be   Mun. Hola!.a hard thing to be preaching from moriing till   Diego. Heaven and.earth! what do I see 
night without any profit.':.                Mlun. Where are you, young massy and misLeon. Well, Ursula. after all, I wish this gen- sy? Here wine for supper.
tleinan had never got into the:'house, Heaven    Diego. Im thunderstruck!
send no ill comes of it.'  A.l/lun. My old massa little tink we be so merryUTrs. Ay, I say so.too; Heaven send it;. but hic-hic-What's the matter with me? the room
I'm cruelly afraid; for how shall we get rid' of turn round.
hint? he'll never be. able to crawl up the inside   Diego. Wretch, do you know.me-?
of the wall, whatever he did the out.        -Mun. Know you?-.damn you.
Leon. 0 Lord! won't he  Diego.. Horrid creature!.what makes you here
Urs. No, by my conscience, wont he; and at this time of night   Is it with a design to surwhen your guardian comes in, if we had fifty prise the innocents in their beds, and murder them
necks a piece, he'd twist them. every. one,'if. he sleeping?
finds him here; for my part, the best' I expect, is     Muien. Hush, hush-make'no noise-hi —
to end my old days in a prison.             hic.
Leon. You don't say so?     -              Diego. The slave is intoxicated.
Urs. I do, indeed; and it kills me to think of   Mun. Make no noise, I' say; dere's young
it; but every one has their evil day, and this has gentleman wid young lady; he play on guitar,
been mine.                                  and she like him: better dan she like you. Fal,
Leon. I have promised to go with him into the lal lal.
garden.                                       hi Diego.'Monster, I'll make an example of -you.
Uirs. Nay, you mac do any thing now, for'we. What you call' me names for, you old
are undone;.though: 1-think if you could per- dog''
suade him to get up the chimney, and stay on the   Diego. Does the villain:dare to lift his hand
roof of the house until to-morrow night, we might against me.
then -steal the keys from your guardian; but I'm   Mlun. Will you fight?-    " 
afraid you wont be able to persuade him.      Diego. He s mad.
Leon. I'll go down upon my knees.           Mun. n Dre's one in de house, you little tink.
Urs. Find him out, while I step up stairs.'a'd, he do you'business.
-Leon. Pray; for.us, dear Ursula.           Diego. Go, lie'down in your sty, and sleep.
lrs., Iwill, if I possibly can.             Mun. Sleep!. sleep you self; you drunk —.
- t......-.  X;   ha, ha, ha!: Look, a' padlock: you put a padlock
AIR.-LF,ONORA.               on a door again,'will you?-Ha, ha, ha!
Diego. Didn't I hear music
Ohb me, oh me, what shall we do?         Mun.' Hic —hic e' —iThe fault was all along of you:           Diego. Was it not the sound of a guitar?
-You brought him in, why did you so?     Mun. Yes, he play on the guitar rarely. —LGWO,.'TwaS not by my desire you know.        me hand; you're old rascal,-an't. vou'




328                          TIE. PADLOCK.                                    [ACT U
Diego. What dreadful shock affects me  a: Don Alphonso de' Luna: I am a scholar of this
mist comes over my eyes, and my knees knock. university, and am willing to submit to whatever
together as if I had got a fit of the shaking palsy.  punishment he, through your means, shall inflict;
Mun. I tell you a word'in your ear.       but wreak not your vengeance here.
Diego. Has any stranger broke into my house?   Diego. Thus then, my hopes and cares are at
Mun. Yes, by-hic-a fine young gentle- once frustrated: possessed of what I thought a
man, he now in a next room with missy.       jewel, I was desirous to keep it for myself; I
Diego. Holy St. Francis! is it possible?  raised up the walls of this house to a great height;
Mun. Go you round softly-you catch them  I barred up my windows toward the street; I put
together.                                   double bolts on my doors; I banished all that had
Diego. Confusion! Distraction! I shall run the shadow of man or male kind; and I stood
mad.                                 [Exit. continually sentinel over it myself, to guard my
Re-enter URSULA.               suspicion from surprise: thus secured, I left my
Urs. O shame, monstrous! y ou drunken swab,'watch for one little moment, and in that momentyou have been in the cellar, with a plague to you.
Mun. Let me put my hands about your neck- story, and you'll find I am not to blame.
Urs. Oh, I shall be ruin'd! Help, help! ruin    Diego. No, child, I only am to blame, wh
ruin!                     -: 2         x should have considered that sixteen and sixty
agree ill together. But, though I'was too old to
Re-enterLEANDER and LEONORA.          be wise, I am not too old to learn; and so, I say,
Leon. Goodness me, what's the matter?   send for a smith directly, beat all the grates from
Urs. Oh, dear child, this black villain has my windows, take the locks from my doors, and
frightened me out of my wits; he has wanted-  let egress and regress be given freely.
Mun. Me! curse a heart, I want nothing wid   Leon. And will you be my husband, Sir?
her-what she say I want for-                  Diego. No, child, T will give you to one that
Leon. Ursula, the gentleman says he has some will make you a better husband: here, young
friends waiting for him at the other side of the man, take her: if your parents consent, to-morrow
garden wall, that will throw him over a ladder shall see you joined in the face of the church; and
made of ropes, which he got up by.          the dowry which I promised her, in case of failure
on my side of the contract, shall now go with her,
DUET.-LEANDER and LEONORA.           as a marriage portion.
Leand. Then must I go?                     Leand. Signior, this is so generousLeon.  Yes, good Sir, yes.                  Diego.: No thanks; perhaps I owe acknowLeand. A parting kiss!                    ledgments to you; but you, Ursula, have no exLeon.  No, good Sir, no.                  cuse, no passion to plead, and your age should
Leand. It must be so.....have taught you better.  I'll give you five hunBy this, and this,                 dred crowns, but'never let me see you more.
Here I could for ever grow.          Mun. And what you give me, massa?'Tis more than mortal bliss.         Diego. Bastinadoes, for your drunkenness and
Leon. Well, now good night;               infidelity. Call in my neighbours and friends.
Pray, ease our fright:             Oh, man.! man! how short is your foresight;
You're very bold, Sir,             how ineffectual your prudence; while the very
Let loose your hold, Sir;          means you use are destructive of your ends!
I think you want to scare me quite.
Leand. Oh fortune's spight!                FINALE.
Leon.  Good night, good night.
Diego. Go, forge me fetters, that shall bind
Hark! the neighboring convent's bell       The rage of the tempestuous wind;
Tolls, the vesper hour to tell;             Sound with a needle-full of thread
The clock now chimes;                       The depth of ocean's steepy bed;
A thousand times,                           Snap like a twig the oak's tough tree;
A thousand times, farewell!                 Quench Etna with a cup of tea;Re-enter DON DIEGO.                      In these manceuvres show your skill,
Diego. Stay, Sir, let nobody go out of the room.   Then hold a woman if you will.
Urs. [Falling down.] Ah! ah! a ghost! a   Chor. In these manceuvres, &c.
ghost!                                        Urs.  Permit me to put in a word:
Diego. Woman, stand up.                     -      My master here is quite absurd:
Urs. I wont, I wont: murder! don't touch me.       That men should rule our sex is meet
Diego. Leonora, what am I to think of this?        But art, not force, must do the feat;
Leon. Oh, dear Sir, don't kill me.                 Remember what the fable says,Diego. Young man, who are you, who have            Where the  sun's warm and melting
thus clandestinely, at an unseasonable hour, broke        rays
into my house? Am I to consider you as a robber,    Soon rabout what wind and rai
Soon bring about what wind and rain,
~~~~~~~~or how'I ~~With all their fuss, attempt in vain
Leand. As one whom love has made indiscreet; of one whom love taught industry and art   Chor. Soon bring about, &c.
t) compass his designs. Ilove the beautiful Leo-   Mun. And, massa, be not angry pray,
nora, and she me; but, further than what you         If neger man a word should say;
hear and see, neither one nor the other have been    Me have a fable pat as she,
culpable.                                            Which wid dis matter will agree:
AMun. Hear him, hear him.                          An owl once took it in his head,
Leand.l Don Diego, you know my father well,        Wid some young pretty bird to wed;




CENE 1.]                      THE PADLOCK.                                       329
But when his worship came to woo,         What locks, what bars, should then im
He could get none but de cuckoo.                  pede,
Chor. But when his worship, &c.                 Or keep me from my charming maid!
Leon. Ye youth select, who wish to taste                AIR.-URSULA.
The joys of wedlock' pure and chaste,    When a womans front is wrinkled,
Ne'er let the mistress and the friend     And her hairs are sprkled
In abject slave, and tyrant, end.         With gray
While each with tender passion burns,          ray 
Ascend the throne of rule by turns;       How her lovers fall away 
And place (to love, to virtue, just)     Like fashions past
Security in mutual trust.                Aside she's cast
Vhor. And place, &c.                            No one respect will pay:
Leand. To sum up all you now have heard,        Remember,
Young men and old peruse the bard        Lasses, remember
A female trusted to your care,            And while the sun shines make hay
His rule is pithy, short, and clear;      You must not expect, in December,
Be to her faults a little blind;          The flowers you gather'd in May.
Be to her virtues very kind;
Let all her ways be unconfin'd;                    AIR.-DIEGO.
And clap your padlock on her mind.        Oh, wherefore this terrible flurry'
Chor. Be to her faults, &c.     [Exeunt.        My spirits are all in a hurry!
And above and below,
rhe following AIRS are usually omitted in the         From my top to my toe,
representation.                     Are running about, hurry scurry.
AIa. —LEANDER.
My heart in my bosom a bumping,
Hither, Venus, with your doves,               Goes thumping,
Hither, all ye little loves                   And jumping,
Round me light your wings display,            And thumping;
And bear a lover on his way.                Is't a spectre I see?
Oh, could I but, like Jove of old,          Hence, vanish.-Ah me!
Transform myself to showery gold;             My senses deceive me;
Or in a swan my passion shroud,               Soon reason will leave me;
Or wrap it in an orient cloud;              What a wretch am I destin'd to be!
Vo. I...2T        28*




THE REVENGE:.A TRAG ED'Y,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY DR. YOUNG.
REMARKS.'rils tragedy is the dramatic master-piece of its valuable author, but at first was not so successful as Busiris
and his other plays. Though similar, in some degree, to the story of Shakspeare's Othello, the motives for resentmnent in Zanga are of a mqre noble and consistent nature, and the credulous object of his deadly hatred more exousable and more pitied in yielding to its subtlety.
There is great scope for talent in the character of Zanga; but the whining nonsense of Alonzo and Carlos would
tire in any hands.
We have inserted at the foot of'the'page,* a narrative of an event said to have really happened in Spain a few
years before this piece was written; it is so nearly followed by Dr. Young, in his admirable Revenge,'as to leave
no doubt of having formed its ground-work.
DRAMATIS PERSONJE.
COVENT GARDEN, 1814.                          COVENT GARDEN, 1814.
DON ALONZO,.................  Mr. Conway.   OFFICERS,......              Messrs. Brown, Grant, -fc
DON CARLOS,........               Mr. Hamerton. LEONORA.Mrs. Egerton.
DON ALVAREZ,.......Mr. Murray.  IAELLA............Miss Logan
DON MANUEL,..    Mr. Cresswell.
ZANGA,.........Mr. Young.                              SCENE.-Spain.
ACT  I.                       Has wrought my mind to this, I cannot tell;:SCENE   — tle.  But horrors now are not displeasing to me:
SCENE L-Battlements, with a sea prospect.                                              [ Thunder.
Enter ZANGA.                      I like this rocking of the battlements.
Zan. Whether first nature, or long want of Rage on, ye winds; burst, clouds, and, waters,
peace,                                             roar!
a Mr. Hughes, in his criticism on Othello, introduces the following narrative, to which allusion is made in our
remarks. —" The short story I am going to tell is a just warning to those of jealous honour to look about
them, and begin to possess their souls as they ought: for no man of spirit knows how terrible a creature he is, till
he comes to be provoked.' Don Alonzo, a Spanish nobleman, had a beautiful and virtuous wife, with whom he had lived some years in
great tranquillity. The gentleman, however, was not free from the faults usually imputed to his nation; lie was
proud, suspicious, and impetuous. He kept a Moor in his house, whom, on a complaint from his lady, he had
punished for a small offence with the utmost severity. The slave vowed revenge, and communicated his resolution to one of the lady's women with whom he had lived in a criminal way. This creature also hated her mistress, for she feared she was observed by her; she therefore undertook to make Don Alonzo jealous, by insinuating
that the gardener was often admitted to his lady in private, and promising to make him an eye witness of it.
At a proper time, agreed on between her and the Morisco, she sent a message to the gardener, that his lady,
having some hasty orders to give him, would have him come that moment to her in her chamber. In the mean
time she had placed Alonzo privately in an outer room, that he might,;Lserve who passed that way. It fwas not
long before he saw the gardener appear. Alonzo had not patience, but following him into the apartment, struck
him at one blow with a dagger to the heart; then dragging his lady by the hair, without inquiring further, he
instanlly killed her.
"Heie he paused, looking on the dead bodies with all the agitations of a demon of revenge; when the wench
who had occasioned these terrors, distracted with remorse, threw herself at his feet, and in a voice of lamentation,
without sense of the consequence, repeated all her guilt. Alonzo was overwhelmed with the violent passions at
one instant, and uttered the broken voices and motions of each of them for a moment; till at last he recollected
himself enough to end his agony of love, anger, disdain, revenge, and remorse, by murdering the snaid, the Maror
and himself."
330




scOmE n.]                      THE  REVENG E..                                    331
You bear a just resemblance of my fortune,   0, Mahomet! on this important hour,
Anid suit the gloomy habit of my soul.       And give at length my famish'd soul revenge!
What is revenge, but courage to call in
Ear.ISBEL.LA...         Our honour's debts, and -wisdom to convert
Who's there? My love!.      Others' self-love into our own protection? 
Isa. Why have you left my bed?             But see, the morning dawn breaks in upon us;
Your absence more affrights.me than the storm.   I'll seek Don. Carlos, and inquire my fate.
Zan. The-dead alone in such-a night can rest,                                 [Exeunt
And I indulge my meditation here.                    SCENE II.-The Palace.
Woman, away. I choose to be alone.
Isa.  I know you do, and therefore will not leave  Enter DON MANUEL and DON CARLOS.
you;                                  Man. My lord Don Carlos, what brings your
Excuse me, Zanga, therefore dare not leave you.      express?
Is this is a night for walks of contemplation'?  Car. Alonzo's glory, and the Moor's defeat.
Something unusual hangs upon your heart,     The field is strew'd with twice ten thousand slain,
And I will know it: by our loves, I will.    Though he suspects his measures were betray'd.
Ask I too much to share in your distress?    He'll soon arrive. Oh, how I long t' embrace
Zan. In tears? thou fool! then hear me, and The first of heroes, and the best of friends!
be plung'd                          I lov'd fair Leonora long before
In hell's abyss, if ever it escape thee.     The chance of battle gave me to the Moors,
To strike thee with astonishment at once-    From whom so late Alonzo set me free;
I hate Alonzo.. First recover that,          And while I groan'd in bondage, I deputed
And then thou shalt hear further.            This great Alonzo, whom her father honours,
Isa. Hate Alonzo!                          To be my gentle advocate in love,
I own, I thoughtl Alonzo most your friend,   To stir her heart, and fan its fires for me.
And that he lost the. master in that name.     Alan. And what success?
Zan. Hear then.'Tis twice three years since    Car. Alas, the cruel maidthat great man                       ndced her father, who, though high in court,
(Great let me call him, for he conquer'd me)  And powerful with the king, has wealth at heart
Made me the captive of his arm in fight.     To heal his devastations from the Moors.
He slew my father, and threw chains o'er me,    Knowing I'm richly freighted from the east,
While I with pious rage pursued revenge.     My fleet now sailing in the sight of Spain,
I then was young; he plac'd me near his person,, (Heaven guard it safe through such a dreadful
And. thought me not dishonour'd by his service.      storm!)
One day (may that returning day be night,    Caresses me, and urges her to wed.
The stain, the curse, of each succeeding year )  Man. Her aged father, see,
For something, or for nothing, in his pride  Leads her this way.
He struck me. (While I tell it, do 1 live?)    Car. She looks like radiant truth,
He smote me on the' cheek-I did not stab him,  Brought forward by the hand of hoary timeFor that were poor revenge-E'er since, his folly  You to the port with speed;'tis possible
HIas strove to bury it beneath a heap        Some vessel is arriv'd. Heaven grant it bring
Of kindnesses, and thinks it is forgot.      Tidings which Carlos may receive with jov!
Insolent thought! and like a second blow!                          [Exit DON'MANUEL.
Affronts are innocent, where mnien are worthless;  Enter DON ALVAREZ and LEONORA.
And such.alone:can wisely drop revenge.  -    Alv. Don Carlos, I am labouring in your favour
Isa. But with more temper, Zanga, tell your With all a parent's soft authority,
story;.                         And earnest counsel.
To see your strong emotions startles me.       Car. Angels second you!
Zan.: Yes, woman,withthe temperthatbefits it. For all my bliss or mis'ry hangs on it.
Has the dark adder venom 1 So have I           Alv. Daughter, the happiness of life depends
When' trod upon. Proud Spaniard, thou shalt On our discretion, and a prudent choice.
feel me!.             Look into those they call unfortunate,
For'from that day, the day of my dishonour,  And, closer view'd, you'll find they are unwise:
From that day have I curs'd the rising sun,  Some flaw in their own conduct lies beneath.
Which: never fail'd. to tell me of my shame.  Don Carlos is of ancient, noble blood,
From that day have I.bless'd the coming night,   And then his wealth might mend a prince's forWhich promis'd to conceal it; but in vain;           tune.
The blow return'd for. ever in my dream.    For him the sun is lab'ring in the mines,
Yet on I toil'd, and: groan'd for an occasion  A faithful slave, and turning earth to gold:
Of ample vengeance; none has yet arrived.   His keels are freighted with that sacred power,
Howe'er, at present, I conceive warm hopes  By which e'en kings and emperors are made.
Of what may wound him sore in his ambition,   Sir, you have my good wishes, and I hope
Life of his life, and dearer than his soul.  My daughter is not indispos'd to hear you.
By nightly-march he purpos'd to surprise                                          [Ext.
The Moorish camp; but I have taken care        Car. Oh, Leonora! why art thou in tears?
They shall be ready to receive his favour.   Because I am less wretched than I was? 
Failing in this, a cast of'utm ast' moment,  Before your father gave me leave to woo you,
Would darken all the conquests he has won.   Hush'd was your bosom, and your eye serene.
Isa. Just::as I enter'd, an express arriv'd.  Leon. Think you my father too indulgent to me,
Zan. To whom?....  That he claims no dominion o'er mytears?
Isa. -His friend, Don: Carlos.             A daughter sure may be right dutiful,
Zan. Be propitious,                        Whose tears alone are free from a restraint.




332                            THE  REVENGE.                                    [AC I.
Car. Had I known this before, it had been well: For I dare open all my heart to thee.
I had not then solicited your father        Never was such a day of triumph known!To add to my distress;                       There's not a wounded captive in my train,
Have I not languish'd prostrate at thy feet?  That slowly follow'd my proud chariot wheels,
Have I not liv'd whole days upon thy sight?  With half a life. and beggary, and chains,
Have I not seen thee where thou hast not been.  But is a god to me: I am most wretched.And, mad with the idea, clapp'd the wind,   In his captivity, thou know'st, Don Carlos,
And doted upon nothing'                     My friend (and never was a friend more dear)
Leon. Court me not,                       Deputed me his advocate in love,
Good Carlos, by recounting of my faults,     To talk to Leonora's heart, and make
And telling how ungrateful I have been.     A tender party in her thoughts for him.
Alas, my lord, if talking would prevail,    What did I do? —I lov'd myself. Indeed,
I could suggest much better arguments       One thing there is might lessen my offence
Than those regards you throw away on me;    (Ifsuch offence admits of being lessen'd;)
Your valour, honour, wisdom, prais'd by all.  I thought him dead; for (by what fate I know not)
But bid physicians talk our veins to temper,  His letters never reach'd me.
And with an argument new-set a pulse;         Zan. Thanks to Zanga,
Then think, my lord, of reasoning into love.  Who thence contriv'd that evil which has hap
Car. Must I despair then? do not shake me        pen'd.                       [Aside.
thus:                                 Alon. Yes, curs'd of Heaven! I lov'd myself,
My temper-beaten heart is cold to death.             and now,
Ah, turn, and let me warm me in thy beauties.  In a late action, rescu'd from the Moors,
Heavens! what a proof I gave, but two nights I have brought home my rival in my friend.
past,                                 Zan. We hear, my lord, that in that action too,
Of matchless love! To fling me at thy feet,  Your interposing arm preserv'd his life.
I slighted friendship, and I flew from fame;  Alon. It did-with more than the expense of
Nor heard the summons of the next day's battle:      mind:
But darting headlong to thy arms, I left    For, oh, this day is mention'd for their nuptials.
The promis'd fight, I left Alonzo too,      But see, she comes; I'll take my leave and die.
To stand the war, and quell a world alone.                                      [Retires,
[Trumpets.   Zan. Hadst thou a thousand lives, thy death
Leon. The victor tomes. My lord, I must            would please me.
withdraw.                    [Exit. Unhappy fate! my country overcome!
Enter DON ATLONZO.              My six years' hope of vengeance quite expir'dWould' nature were-I will not fall alone:
Car. Alonzo!                              But others' groans shall tell the world my deatF
Alon. Carlos!-I am whole again;                                                 [Exu,
Clasp'd in thy arms, it makes my heart entire.             Enter LEONORA.
Car. Whom dare I thus embrace? The conquer of Afric.                        Alon. When nature ends with anguish like to
Alon. Yes, much more-Don Carlos' friend.           this,
The conquest of the world would cost me dear,   Sinners shall take their last leave of the sun,
Should it beget one thought of distance in thee.   And bid his light adieu.
I rise in virtues to come nearer to thee.      Leon. The mighty conqueror
I conquer with Don Carlos in mine eye,       Dismay'd! I thought you gave the foe. your sorAnd thus I claim my victory's reward.                rows.
[Embraces him.   Aloan. Oh, cruel insult! are those tears your
Car. A victory indeed! your godlike arm            sport,
Has made one spot the grave of Africa;      Which nothing but a love for you could draw?
Such numbers fell; and the survivors fled   Afric I quell'd, in hope by that to purchase
As frighted passengers from off the strand,  Your leave to sigh unscorn'd; but I complain not;
When the tempestuous sea comes roaring on'Twas but a world-and you are-Leonora.
them.                                 Leon. That passion which you boast of is your
Alon.'Twas Carlos conquer'd,'twas his cruel      guilt,
chains                              A treason to your friend. You think mean of me,
Inflam'd me to a rage unknown before,       To plead your crimes as motives of my love.
And threw my former actions far behind.       Alon. You, Madam, ought to thank those
Car. I love fair Leonora. How I love her!         crimes you blame!
Yet still I find (I know not how it is)'Tis they permit you to be thus inhuman,
Another heart, another soul, for thee.,    Without the censure both of earth and HeavenI fondly thought a last look might be kind.
Farewell for ever.-This severe behaviour
Zan. Manuel, my lord, returning from the port, Has, to my comfort, made it sweet to die.
On business both of moment and of haste,       Leon. Farewell for ever! Sweet to die! Oh,
Humbly begs leave to speak in private with you.      Heaven!
Car. In private!-Ha!-Alonzo, I'll return;   Alonzo, stay; you must not thus escape me;
No business can detain me long from thee.    But hear your guilt at large.
[Exit.   Alon. Oh, Leonora!
Zan. My lord Alonzo, I obeyed your orders.  What could I do? —In duty to my friend,
Alon. Will the fair Leonora pass this way?    I saw you; and to see is to admire. -
Zan. She will, my lord, and soon.          For Carlos did I plead, and most sincerely.
Alon. Come near me, Zanga;                 Witness the thousand agonies it cost me.




SCEE I.]'rTHE  REVENGE.                                     333
You know I did; I sought but your esteem;    When with cold dew my fainting brow is hmlg,
If that is guilt, an angel had been guilty.  And my eyes darken, from my falt'ring tongue
Leon. If from your guilt none suffer'd but your- Her name will tremble in a feeble moan,
self,                               And love with fate divide my dying groan.
It might be so-Farewell.            [Going.                                       [X
Alon. Who suffers with me?
Leon. Enjoy your ignorance, and let me go.                  ACT II.
Alon. What mean these tears                                 A
Leon. I weep by chance; nor have my tears a          SCENE I.-The same.
meaning.                                   Enter DON MANUEL and ZANGA.
But, oh, when first I saw Alonzo's tears,
I knew their meaning well!                    Zan. If this be true, 1 cannot blame your pain
[ALONZOfalls on his knees, and takes her hand. For wretched Carlos;'tis but humane in you.
Alon. -Heavens! what is this? that excellence But when arriv'd your dreadful news'
for which                              Man. This hour.
Desire was planted in the heart of man;       Zan. What, not a vessel sav'd 2
Virtue's supreme reward on this side heaven;   AIan. All, all, the storm
The cordial of my soul-and this destroys me-   Devour'd; and now o'er his late envied fortune
Indeed, I flatter'd me that thou didst hate.  The dolphins bound, and wat'ry mountains roar,
Leonl. Alonzo, pardon me the injury        Triumphant in his ruin.
Of loving you. I struggled with my passion,    Zan. Is Alvarez
And struggled long: let that be some excuse.  Determin'd to deny his daughter to him?
Alon. Unkind! you know I think your love a That treasure was on shore; must that too join
blessing                            The common wreck?
Beyond all human blessings!'tis the price    Mlan. Alvarez pleads, indeed,
Of sighs and groans, and a whole year of dying.  That Leonora's heart is disinclin'd,
But, oh, the curse of curses!-Oh, my friend!-   And pleads that only; so it was this morning,
Leon. Alas!                                When he concurr'd: the tempest broke the match
Alon. What says my love? speak, Leonora?   And sunk his favour, when it sunk the gold.
Leon. Was it for you, my lprd, to be so quick   The love of gold is double in his heart;
In finding out objections to our love?      The vice of age, and of Alvarez too.
Think you so strong, my love, or weak my virtue,   Zan. How does Don Carlos bear it?
It was unsafe to leave that part to me?       AIan. Like a man
Alon. Is not the day then fix'd for your es. Whose heart feels most a human heart can feel,
pousals?                     [way; And reasons best a human head can reason.
Leon. Indeed, my father once had thought that   Zan. But is he then in absolute despair?
But marking how the marriage pain'd my heart,    Man. Never to see his Leonora more.
Long he stood doubtful; but at last resolv'd  And, quite to quench all future hope, Alvarez
Your counsel, which determines him in all,   Urges Alonzo to espouse his daughter
Should finish the debate.                    This very day; for he has learn'd their loves.
Alon. Oh, agony!                             Zan. Ha! was not that receiv'd with ecstasy
Must I not only lose her, but be made        By Don Alonzo?
Myself the instrument? not only die,          Man. Yes, at first; but soon
But plunge the dagger in my heart myself?    A damp came o'er him, it would kill his friend.
This is refining on calamity.                  Zan. Not if his friend consented; and since
Leon. What, do you tremble lest you should         now
be mine?                           He can't himself espouse herFor what else can you tremble? not for that   Man. Yet, to ask it
My father places in your power to alter.    Has something shocking to a generous mind;
Alon. What's in my power? oh, yes, to stab At least, Alonzo's spirit startles at it.
my friend!                          Wide is the distance between our despair,
Leon. To stab your friend were barbarous in- And giving up a mistress to another.
deed!                               But I must leave you. Carlos wants support
Spare him -and murder me.                   In his severe affliction.             [Exit.'Alon. First perish all!                     Zan. Ha, it dawns!No, Leonora, I am thine for ever.           It rises to me, like a new-found world
[Embraces her. To mariners long time distress'd at sea,
Leon. Hold, Alonzo,                       Sore from a storm, and all their viands spent;
And hear a maid whom doubly thou hast con- Or like the sun just rising out of chaos,
quered.                             Some dregs of ancient night not quite purg'd oft
I love thy virtues as I love thy person,     But shall I finish it? —Hoa, Isabella!
And I adore thee for the pains it gave me;                 Enter I LLA.
But as I felt the pains, I'll reap the fruit               Enter ISABE
I'll shine out in my turn, and show the world  I thought of dying; better things come forward;
Thy great example was not lost upon me.      Vengeance is still alive! from her dark covert,
Nay, never shrink; take back the bright example With all her snakes erect upon her crest,
You lately lent; oh, take it while you may,  She stalks in view, and fires me with her charmn,
While [ can give it you, and, be immortal!  When, Isabella, arriv'd Don Carlos here?
[Exit.   Isa. Two nights ago.
Alon. She's gone, and I shall see that face no   Zan. That was the very night
more;                                Before the battle —Mem'ry, set down that'
But pine in absence, and till death adore.   It has the essence of a crocodile,




334                            THE  REVEN GE.                                  rCTr aI.
though yet. but m the shell-I'll give it birth-  Alon. Am I to blame in that?
What time did he return?                      Zan. My lord, I love
Isa. At midpight.                         Your very errors; they are born from virtue.
Zan. So —                                 Your friendship (and what nobler passion claims
Say, did he see that night his Leonora q    The heart?) does lead you blindfold to your ruin.
Isa. No, my good lord.                    Consider, wherefore did Alvarez break
Zan. No matter-tell me, woman,            Don Carlos' match, and wherefore urge Alonzo s 1
Is not Alonzo rather brave than cautious,'Twas the same cause, the love of wealth. To.
Honest than subtle, above fraud himself,             morrow
Slow, therefore, to suspect it in another?  May see Alonzo in Don Carlos' fortune;
Isa. You best can judge; but so the world A higher bidder is: a- better friend,
thinks of him.                      And there are princes sigh for Leonora.
Zan. Why, that was well-go,-fetch my tablets When your friend's gone, you'll wed why, thera'hither.            [Exit ISABELLA.         the cause
Two nights ago my father's sacred shade     Which gives you Leonora now, will cease.
Thrice stalk'd around my- bed, and smil'd upon Carlos has lost her; should you lose her too,
me; *        s  Why, then you heap new torments on your friend,
He smil'd, a joy then little understood —   By that respect which labour'd' to relieve himIt must be so-and if so,' it is vengeance'Tis well, he is disturb'd; it makes him pause.
Worth waking of the dead for.                                                    [Aside.
Re-enter ISABELLA, with the tablets; ZANGA.   Alon. Think'st thou, my Zanga, should I ask. writes then reads as -to himself.           Don Carlos,
IHis goodness would consent that I should wed
Thus it stands-                                     her?
The father's fix'd-Don Carlos' cannot wed-     Zan. I know it would.
Alonzo may-but that will hurt his friend-     Alon. But then the cruelty
Nor can hie ask his leave-or, if he did,    To ask it, and for me to ask it of him!
H-e might not gain it —It is hard to give     Zan. Methinks, you are severe upon your
Our own consent to ills, though we must bear         friend
them.                               Who was it gave him liberty and life?
Were it not then a master-piece worth all     Alon. That is the very reason which forbids it.
The wisdom I can boast, first to persuade   Were I a stranger I could freely speak:
Alonzo to request it of his friend,;        In me it so resembles a demand,
His friend to grant-then from that very grant,  Exacting of a debt, it shocks my nature.
The strongest proof of friendship man can give  Zan. My lord, you know the sad alternative.
(And other motives,) to work out a cause    Is Leonora worth one pang or not?
Of jealousy, to rack Alonzo's peace?       It hurts not me, my lord, but as I love you:
1 have turn'd o'er the catalogue of human woes,   Warmly as vou 1 wish Don Carlos well;
Which sting the heart of man, and find none But I am likewise Don Alonzo's friend:
equal.                              There all the diff'rence lies between us two
It is the hydra of calamities,              In me, my lord, you hear another self;
The sevenfold death; the jealous are the damn'd. And, give me leave to add, a better too,
Oh, jealousy, each other passion's calm     Clear'd from those errors, which, though caus'd by:To thee, thou conflagration of the soul!           virtue
Thou king of torments, thou grand counterpoise  Are such as may hereafter give you painFor all the transports beauty can inspire!  Don Lopez of Castile would not demur thus.
Isa. Alonzo comes this way.                 Alon. Perish the name! What, sacrifice
Zan. Most opportunely.-                           fair
Withdraw.                   [Exit ISABELLA.  To age and ugliness, because set in gold 
I'll to Don Carlos, if my heart will let me.
Enter DoN ALONZo....
I have not seen him since his sore affliction;
My lord, I give you joy.                    But shunn'd it, as too terrible to bear.
Alon. Of what, good Zanga?.               How shall I bear it now? I'm struck already.
Zan. Is not the lovely Leonora yours?                                          [Ex?.
Alon. What will become of Carlos?'        Zan. Half of my work is done. I must secure
Zan. He's your friend;                    Don Carlos, ere Alonzo speak with him.
And since he can't espouse the fair himself,   [He gives a message to a Servant, then returns.
Will take some comfort from Alonzo's fortune.   Proud, hated Spain, oft drench'd in Moorish
Alon. Alas, thou little know'st the force of love!   blood!'
Love reigns a sultan with unrival'd sway;   Dost thou not feel a deadly foe within thee?
Puts all relations, friendship's self to deah,  Shake not the towers where'er I pass along,
If once he's jealous of it. I love Carlos;  Conscious of ruin, and their great destroyer?
Yet well I know what pangs [ felt this morning  Shake to the centre, if Alonzo's dear
A.this intended nuptials. For myself         Look down, oh, holy prophet! see me torture
I then felt pains, which now for him I feel.  This Christian dog, this infidel, who dares
Zan. You will not wed her then?'         To smite thy votaries, and spurn thy law;
Alon Not instantly.                       And yet hopes pleasure from two radiant eyes,
Insult his broken heart the very moment!    Which look as they were lighted up for thee!
Zan. I understand you: but you'll wed here- Shall he enjoy thy paradise below?
after,                              Blast the bold thought, and curse him with her
W hen your friend's gone, and his first pain: as-  charms!
suag'd.                             But see, the melancholy lover comes.




ia-cLM Id                       THEE  REVENGE.                                      335
Enter DON CARLOS.                  Car. Kill my friend!
X.ar. Hope, thou hast told me: lies from day to. Or worse-Alas! and can there bea worse'
day,                                 A worse there is: nor can my nature bear it.
For more than twenty years-; vile promiser!    Zan. You have convinc'd me'tis a dreadful
None here are happy, but the very fool,               task.
Or very wise; I am not fool enough           I find Alonzo's quitting her this morning
To srmile in vanities; and hug: a shadow;  For Carlos'- sake, in tenderness to you,
Nor have I Wisdom to elaborate               Betray'd me to believe it less severe
An artificial happiness from: pains:         Than I perceive it is.
Even joys are pains, becauselthey cannot last.  Car. Thou dost upbraid me....-.    [Sighs.   Zan. -No, my good lord; but since you can't
How many lift the head, lookgay and smile,  comply, 
Against their consciences? And this we know,'Tis my -misfortune ithat I mention'd it;
Yet, knowing, disbelieve, and try again      For had I not, Alonzo would indeed
What we have tried, and struggle with conviction. Have died, as now, but not by your decree..  -
Each new experience gives the former credit;   Car. By my decree! -Do I decree:his death.
And reverend gray threescore is but a voucher,   I do-Shall I then lead her to his arms? ~
That thirty told us true.                    Oh, which side shall I take? Be stabb'd, or-stab 
Zan. My noble lord,'Tis equal death! a choice of agonies!- 
I mourn your fate: but are no hopes surviving-2   Ah, no!-all other agonies are ease:
Car. No hopes. Alvarez has a heart of steel.  To one-O, Leonora!-never, never!'Tis fix'd-'tis past-'tis absolute despair!  -    Go, Zanga, go, defer the dreadful trial,
Zan. You wanted not to have your heart made  Though but  a day;: something, perchance, may
t: Iender,                                       happen
By your own pains, to feel a friend's distress.  To soften all to friendship and to:love.;
Car. I understand you well. A'lonzo loves;   Go, stop my friend, let me not see him now;
I pity him.                                  But save us from an interview of death.
Zan. I dare be sworn you do.                 Zan. My lord, I'm  bound in duty to obey
Yet he has other thoughts.                            youCar. Whgt canst thou mean?                 If I not bring him, may Alonzo prosper!
Zan. Indeed he has;. and fears to ask a favour                              [Aside, exit.
A stranger from a stranger might request;       Car. What is this world.-Thy school, oh,
What costs you nothing, yet is all to him:           misery!
Nay, what indeed will to your glory add,     Our only lesson is to learn to suffer;
For nothing more than wishing your friend well. v And he who knows not that was born for nothing.
Car. I pray be plain; his happiness is mine.   But put it most severely-should I liveZan. He loves to death; but so reveres his Live long-alas, there is no length in time!
friend,                              Nor in thy time, oh, man!-What's fourscore
He can't persuade his heart to-wed the maid           yearsWithout your leave, and that he fears to ask.  Nay, what, indeed, the age of time itself,
In perfect tenderness I urg'd him to it,     Since cut from out eternity's wide- round?
Knowing the'deadly sickness of his heart,   Yet Leonora-she can make time long,Your overflowing goodness to your friend     Its nature alter, as she-alter'd mine.
Your wisdom, and despair yourself to wed her,    While in the lustre of her charms I lay,
I wrung a promise from him he would try:     Whole summer suns roll'd unperceiv'd away;
And now 1 come, a mutual friend to both,     I years for days, and days for moments told,
Without his privacy, to let you know it,     And was surpris'd to hear that I grew old.
And to prepare you kindly to receive him.    Now fate does rigidly its dues regain,
Car. Ha! if he weds, I am undone indeed;    And every moment is an age of pain.
Not Don Alvarez' self can then relieve me.
Zan. Alas, my lord, youknow his heart is steel:            DON  ALOS.
"'Tis fix'd,'tis past,'tis absolute despair."
Car. Oh, cruel Heaven! and is it not enough  Zan. Is this Don Carlos?' this the boasted
That I must never,! never see her- more..          friend?
Say, is it not enough that I must'die;.     How can you turn your back upon his sadness?
But I must be tormented in the grave?-       Look on him, and then leave him if you can.
Ask my consent!-Must' I then give her to him?    Car. I cannot yield; *nor can I bear his griefs.
Lead to his nuptial sheets the blushing maid'Alonzo;     [Goes to him, and takes his hand.
Oh!-Leonora! nevernever, never!:  Alon. Oh, Carlos!
Zan. A storm of plagues upon him! he refuses.    Car. Pray, forbear.
[Aside.   Alon. Art thou undone, and shall Alonzo smile?
Car. What, wed her-and to-day?  Alonzo, who, perhaps, in some degree
Zan. To-day, or never.                     Contributed to cause thy dreadful fate 
To-morrow may some wealthier lover bring,    I was deputed guardian of thy love;
And then Alonzo is thrown out like you:  But, oh! I lov'd myself! Pour down afflictions!
Then whom shall he condemn for his misfortune 2 On this devoted head; make me your mark;
Carlos is an Alvarez to his love.            And be the world by my example taught,
Car. Oh, torment! whither shall I turn?   How sacred it should hold the name of friend.
Zan. To peace.                               Car. You charge yourself unjustly: well I know
Car. Which is the way.:.         The only cause of my severe affliction.
Zan. His happiness is yours                Alvarez, curs'd Alvarez! —S' much anguish
I dare not disbelieve you.                   Felt for so small a failure, is one merit




836                             THE REVENGE.                                  [vce nll.
Which faultless virtue wants. The crime was And, plucking up my love, they had well nigh
mine,                               Pluck'd up life too, for they were twin'd together.
Who plac'd thee there, where only thou couldst Of that no more-What now does reason bid
fail                                I cannot wed-Farewell, my happiness!
Though well I knew that dreadful post of honour But, O, my soul, with care provide for hers!
I gave thee to maintain. Ah! who could bear   In life, how weak, how helpless is a woman!
Those eyes unhurt? The wounds myself have  Take then my heart in dowry with the fair,
felt                                Be thou her guardian, and thou must be. mine:
(Which wounds alone should cause me to con- Shut out the thousand pressing ills of life
demn thee,)                         With thy surrounding arms-Do this, and then
They plead in thy excuse; for I too strove  Set down the liberty and life thou gav'st me,
To shun those fires, and found'twas not in man.  As little things, as essays of thy goodness,
Alon. You cast in shades the failure of a friend, And rudiments of friendship so divine.
And soften all; but think not you deceive me;  Alon. There is a grandeur in thy goodness to
I know my guilt, and I implore your pardon,          me.
As the sole glimpse I can obtain of peace.  Which with thy foes would render thee ador'd
Car. Pardon for him, who but this morning    Car. I do not part with her, I give her thee.
threw                                 Alon. 0, Carlos!
Fair Leonora from his heart, all bath'd      But think not words were ever made
In ceaseless tears, and blushing for her love!  For such occasions. Silence, tears, embraces,
Who, like a rose-leaf wet with morning dew,  Are languid eloquence; I'11 seek relief
Would have stuck close, and clung for ever there! In absence from the pain of so much goodness,
But'twas in thee, through fondness for thy friend, There, thank the bless'd above, thy sole superiors,
To shut thy bosom against ecstacies:        Adore, and raise my thoughts of them by thee.
For which, while this pulse beats, it beats to thee;                              [Exit.
While this blood flows, it flows for my Alonzo,  Zan. Thus far success has crown'd my boldest
And every wish is levell'd at thy joy.               hope.
Zan. [To ALONZO.] My lord, my lord, this is My next care is to hasten these new nuptials,
your time to speak.                 And then my master-works begin to play.
Alon. [ To ZANGA.] Because he's kind? It                                      [Aside.
therefore is the worst;             Why that was greatly done, without one sigh
Do I not see him quite possess'd with anguish,                              [To CARLOS.
And shall I pour in new? No, fond desire;    To carry such a glory to its period.
No, love: one pang at parting, and farewell.   Car. Too soon thou praisest me. He's gone,
I have no other love but Carlos now.                 and now
Car. Alas! my friend, why with such eager I must unsluice my over-burden'd heart,
grasp                               And let it flow. I would not grieve my friend
Post press my hand, and weep upon my cheek?  With tears; nor interrupt my great design;
Alon. If, after death, our forms (as some believe) Great, sure, as ever human breast durst think of.
Shall be transparent, naked every thought,  But now my sorrows, long with pain suppress'd,
And friends meet friends, and read each other's Burst their confinement with impetuous sway,
hearts,                             O'er-swell all bounds, and bear e'en life away:
Thou'lt know one day that thou wast held most So till the day was won, the Greek renown'd
dear.                               With anguish wore the arrow in his wound,
Farewell.                                   Then drew the shaft from out his tortur'd side,
Car. Alonzo, stop  he cannot speak        Let gush the torrent of his blood, and died.
[Holds him.                                    [Exeunt.
Lest it should grieve me-Shall I be outdone 2                 ACT III.
And lose in glory; as I lose in love?  [Aside.
I take it much unkindly, my Alonzo,                        S C E NE I
You think so meanly of me not to speak,                    Enter ZANGA.
When well I know your heart is near to bursting.   Zan. O  joy, thou welcome stranger! twice
Have you forgot how you have bound me to you?  three years
Vour smallest friendship's liberty and life.  I have not felt thy vital beam; but now
Alon. There, there it is, my friend; it cuts me It warms my veins, and plays around my heart:
there.                              A fiery instinct lifts me from the ground,
How dreadful is it to a generous mind       And 1 could mount!-the spirits numberless
To ask, when sure it cannot be denied!      Of my dear countrymen, which yesterday
Car. How greatly thought! In all he towers Left their poor. bleeding bodies on the field,
above me.                  [Aside. Are all assembled here, and o'er-inform me. -
rhen you confess you would ask something of me? O, bridegroom! great indeed thy present bliss;
Alon. No, on my soul.                     Yet even by me unenvied! for be sure
Zan. [ 1To ALONZO. 1]Th en lose her.      It is thy last, thy last smile, that which now
Car. Glorious spirita! h                 Sits on thy cheek; enjoy it while thou may'st;
Whywhat a pang has he run through far this!  Anguish, and groans, and death, bespeak toBy Heaven, I envy him his agonies.    [Aside.        mrrow.
morrow.
My Alonzo!
Since thy great soul disdains to make request,             Enter ISABELLA.
Receive with favour that I make to thee.    My Isabella!
Alon What means my Carlos?                  Isa. What commands my Moor?
Car. Pray, observe me well.                 Zan. My fair ally! my lovely minister!
Fate and Alvarez tore her from my heart,'Twas well, Alvarez, by my arts impell'd




SCENE 1.]                       THE REVENGE.                                        337
(To plunge Don Carlos in the last despair,      Alon. Come near me, let me rest upon thy
And so prevent all future molestation,)               bosom;
Finish'd the nuptials soon as he resolv'd them;   (What pillow like the bosom of a friend?)
This conduct ripen'd all for me and ruin.    For I am sick at heart.
Scarce had the priest the holy rites perform'd,  Zan. Speak, Sir, 0, speak,
When I, by sacred inspiration, forg'd        And take me from the rack.
That letter which I trusted to thy hand;       Alon. I am most happy, mine is victory,
That letter, which in glowing terms conveys,    Mine the king's favour, mine the nation's shout,
From happy Carlos to fair Leonora,           And great men make their fortunes of my smiles
The most profound acknowledgment of heart,    0 curse of curses! in the lap of blessing
For wond'rous transports which he never knew.  To be most curs'd!-My Leonora's false!
This is a good subservient artifice,           Zan. Save me, my lord!
To aid the nobler workings of my brain.        Alon. My Leonora's false!
Isa. I quickly dropp'd it in the bride's apart-                     [Gives him the letter'.
ment,                                  Zan. Then Heaven has lost its image here on
As you commanded.                                     earth.
Za. With a lucky hand;                           [ While ZANGA reads the letter, he trem.
For soon Alonzo found it; I observed him                 bles, and shows the utmost concern.
From out my secret stand. He took it up;       Alon. Good-natur'd man! he makes my pains
But scarce was it unfolded to his sight,              his own.
When he, as if an arrow pierc'd his eye,     I durst not read it; but I read it now
Started, and trembling dropp'd it on the ground.  In thy concern.
Pale and aghast awhile my victim stood,        Jan. Did you not read it, then?
Disguis'd a sigh or two, and puff'd them from him.   Alon. Mine eye just touch'd it, and could bear
Then rubb'd his brow and took it up again.            no more.
At first he look'd as if he meant to read it;  Zan. Thus perish all that gives Alonzo pain!
But check'd by rising fears he crush'd it thus,                          [ Tears the letter,
And thrust it, like an adder, in his bosom.    Alon. Why didst thou tear it?
Isa. But if he read it not, it cannot sting him,    Zan. Think of it no more.
At least not mortally.'Twas your mistake, and groundless arc your
Zan. At first I thought so;                         fears.
But further thought informs me otherwise,      Alon. And didst thou tremble then for my misAnd turns this disappointment to account.            take?
This, Isabella, is Don Carlos' picture;      Or give the whole contents, or by the pangs.Take it, and so dispose of it, that found,  That feed upon my heart, thy life's in danger.
It may raise up a witness of her love;         Zan. Is this Alonzo's language to his Zanga?
Under her pillow, in her cabinet,            Draw forth your sword, and find the secret here.
Or elsewhere, as shall best promote our end.  For whose sake is it, think you, I con;uat it?
Isa. I'll weigh it as its consequence requires,   Wherefore this rage? Because I seek your peace?
Then do my utmost to deserve your smile.     I have no interest in suppressing it,
[Exit. But what good natur'd tenderness for you
Zan. Is that Alonzo prostrate on the ground?-  Obliges me to have. Not mine the heart
Now he starts up like flame from sleeping embers, That will be rent in two. Not mine the fame
And wild distraction glares from either eye.  That will be damn'd, though all the world should
If thus a slight surmise can work his soul,           know it.
How will the fulness of the tempest tear him?  Alon. Then my worst fears are true, and life is
past.
Enter DON ALONZO.                  Zan. What has the rashness of my passion
Alon. And yet it cannot be-I am deceiv'd-           utter'd?
I injure her; she wears the face of Heaven.  I know not what; but rage is our destruction,
Zan. He doubts.                    [Aside. And all its words are wind-Yet sure, I think,
Alon. I dare not look on this again.       I nothing own'd —but grant I did confess,
If the first glance, which gave suspicion only,  What is a letter? letters may be forg'd.
Had such effect, so smote my heart and brain,    For Heaven's sweet sake, my lord, lift up your
The certainty would dash me all in pieces.            heart.
It cannot-Ha! it must, it must be true.     Some foe to your reposer[Starts.   Alon. So Heaven look on me,
Zan. Hold there, and we succeed. He has As I can't find the man I have offended.
descried me.                           Zan. Indeed! [Aside.] —Our innocence is not
And (for he thinks I love him) will unfold           our shield.
His aching heart, and rest it on my counsel.  They take offence, who have not been'offended,
I'll seem to go, to make my stay more sure.  They seek our ruin too, who speak us fair.
[Aside. And death is often ambush'd in their smiles.
Alon. Hold, Zanga, turn.'Tis certain
Zan. My lord.                              A letter may be forg'd, and in a point
Alon. Shut close the doors,                Of such a dreadful consequence as this,
That not a spirit find an entrance here.     One would rely on nought that might be falseZan. My lord's obey'd.                     Think, have you any other cause to doubt her 
Alon. I see that thou art frighted.        Away, you can find none. Resume your spirit:
If thou dost love me, I'shall fill thy heart  All's well again.
With scorpions' stings.                        Alon. Oh that it were!,an. If I do love, my lord?                  Zan. It is;
VOL. I.... U         29




338                             THE REVENGE.                                  [ACT I1.
For who could credit that, which, credited,  And am I then undone? Alas, my Zanga!
Makes hell superfluous by superior pains,    And dost tiou own it too?  Deny it still,
Without such proofs as cannot be withstood?  And rescue me one moment from distraction.
Has she not ever been to virtue train'd.      Zan. My lord, I hope the best.
Is not her fame as spotless as the sun,        Alon. False, foolish hope, thou know'st it false 
Her sex's envy, and the boast of Spain.    It is as glaring as the noon-tide sun.
Alon. 0, Zanga! it is that confounds me most, Devil!-This morning, after three years' coldness,
Trhat, full in opposition to appearance-     To rush at once into a passion for me!
Zan. No more, my  lord, for you condemn'Twas time to feign,'twas time to get another,
yourself.                            When her first fool was sated with her beauties.
What is absurdity, but to believe              Zan. What says my lord? Did Leonora then
Against appearance!-You can't yet, I find,  Never before disclose her passion for you?
Subdue your passion to your better sense;-    Alon. Never.
And, truth to tell, it does not much displease me.    Zan. Throughout the whole three years?'Tis fit our indiscretions should be check'd   Alon. O, never! never!
With some degree of pain.                   Why, Zanga, shouldst thou strive?'Tis all in
Alon. What indiscretion?                           vain:
Zan. Come, you must bear to hear your faults Though thy soul labours, it can find no reed
from me.                            For hope to catch at. Ah! i'm plunging down
Had you not sent Don Carlos to the court     Ten thousand thousand fathoms in despair.
The night before the battle, that foul slave,  Zan. IHold, Sir, I'll break your fall-wave
Who forg'd the senseless scroll which gives you i    every fear
pain,                               And be a man again-Had he enjoy'd her,
Had wanted footing for his villany.          Be most assur'd, he had resign'd her to you
Alon. I sent him not.                     With less reluctance.
Zan.' Not send him!-Ha!-That strikes me.   Alon. Ha! Resign'd her: to me!
I thought he came on message to the king.   Resign her! Who resign'd her?-Double death!
Is there another cause could justify        How could I doubt so long? My heart is broke.
His shunning danger. and the promis'd fight?    First love her to distraction! then resign her!
But I perhaps may think too rigidly;          Zan. But was it not with utmost agony?
So long an absence, and impatient love-        Alon. Grant that, he still resign'd her, that's
Alon. In my confusion, that had quite escap'd      enough.
me.                                 Would he pluck out his eye to give it me?
By Heaven, my wounded soul does bleed afresh; Tear out his heart?-She was his heart no more —'Tis clear as day-for Carlos is so brave,    Nor was it with reluctance he resign'd her;
He lives not but on fame, he hunts for danger,   By Heaven, he ask'd, he courted me to wedl.
And is enamour'd of the face of death.       I thought it strange;'tis now no longer so.
How then could he decline the next day's battle,    Zan. Was't his request? Are you right sure
But for the transports?-Oh, it must be so-          of that?
Inhuman! by the loss of his own honour,     I fear the letter was not all a tale.
To buy the ruin of his friend!                Alon. A tale! There's proof equivalent to sight.
Zan. You wrong him;                          Zan. I should distrust my sight on this occasion.
He knew not of your love.                      Alon. And so should I;* by Heaven, I think I
Alon. Ha!-                                         should.
Zan. That stings home.            [Asidc. What, Leonora! the divine, by whom
Alon. Indeed, he knew not of my treacherous We guess'd at angels! Oh! I'm all confusion.
love-                                 Zan. You now are too much ruffled to think
Proofs rise on proofs, and still the last the strongest.  clearly.
Love is my torture, love was first my crime;  Since bliss and horror, life and death, hang on it,
For she was his, my friend's, and he (O horror!)  Go to your chamber, there maturely weigh
Confided all in me. 0 sacred faith!         Each circumstance; consider, above all,
Howdearly I abide thy violation!           That it is jealousy's peculiar nature
Zan. Were then their loves far gone?     To swell small things to great; nay, out of nought
Alon. The father's will                   To conjure much, and then to lose its reason
There bore a total sway; and he, as soon    Amid the hideous phantoms it has form'd.
As news arriv'd that Carlos' fleet was seen   Alon. Had I ten thousand lives, I'd give them all
From off our coast, fir'd with the love of gold,    To be deceiv'd.
Determin'd that the very sun which saw      And yet she seem'd so pure, that I thought
Carlos' return, should see his daughter wed.         Heaven
Zan. Indeed, my lord; then you must pardon me, Borrow'd her form for virtue's self to wear,
If I presume to mitigate the crime.          To gain her lovers with the sons of men.
Consider, strong allurements soften guilt;   0, Leonora! Leonora!                  Exit.
Long was his absence, ardent was his love,
At midnight his return, the next day destin'd             Re-enter ISABELLA.
For his espousals-'twas a strong temptation.   Zan. Thus far it works auspiciously. My
Alon. Temptation!                                  patient
Zan.'Twas but gaining of one night.       Thrives, underneath my hand, in misery.
Alon. One night!'He's gone to think; that is, to be distracted
Zan. That crime could neHer return again.    Isa. I overheard your conference, and saw yo u
Alon. Again! By Heaven, thou dost insult thy  To my amazement, tear the letter.
lord.                       [death!   Zan. There,
Temptation! One night gain'd! O stings and  There, Isabella, I out-did myself.




SCENE L]                      T HE -RE VE-N G E.                                    339
For, tearing it, I not secure it only          Zan. That is, to death. My lord, I am not yet
In its first force, but superadd a new. -Quite so far gone in guilt to suffer it;
For who can now the: character examine       Though gone too far, Heaven knows-'Tis I amn
To cause a doubt, much less detect the fraud.     guilty;
And after tearing-it, as loth to show        I have took pains, as you,. I know, observ'd,
The foul contents, if I:should swear it now,:   To hinder you from diving.in the secret,. -
A forgery, my lord would disbelieve me,     i And turn'd aside your thoughts from the detecNay, more, would disbelieve the more I: swore.:.      tion.....
But is the picture happily disposed of:.  Alon. Thou dost confound me.
Isa. It is.                                  Zan. I confound myself; 
Zan. That'swell —Ah! what is well. O pang.And frankly own, though to my shame I own it,
to think!:                         Nought but your life in danger. could have torn
0 dire necessity! is this my province    -.   The secret out, and made me own my crime.
Whither, my soul! ah! whither art thou sunk.-:Alon,,Speak quidkly, Zanga,.speak. 
Does this become a soldier'this become-;..  Zan. Not yet, dread Sir:.:;-:.Whom. armies follow'ed and a people lov'd?  First, I must be assur'd,,,that if you find
My martial: glory withers at the thought.:. The fair one guilty, scorn, as you assur'd me,
But great my end; and since there are no other,;  Shall conquer.-love and.rage, and heal your soul.
These means are just, they shine with borrow'd   Alon. Oh!'twill, by Heaven. 
light,                                 Zan. Alas! I fear it much;.::
Illustrious from the purpose they pursue.:.-.And scarce can hope.so-far; but I of this
And greater sure my merit, who, to gain      Exact your solemn oath, that you'll abstain
A point sublime, can such:a task sustain;    From all self-violence, and save my lord.
To wade through ways obscene, my honour bend,:   Alon. I: trebly swear....... 
And shock- my nature, to attain' my end.  -     Zan. You'll bear it like a man?.
Late time shall wonder; that my' joys will raise:    Alon.. A god.
For wonder is involuntary praise.  - [Exeunt.   Zan. Such: have. you: been to. me, these tears
confess it; 
ACT IV.                     And pour'd forth miracles of kindness'on me:
And what amends is now within my power,
SCENE  I.                    But to confess, expose myself to justice,
And as a blessing, claim my punishmentS
Enter DON ALONZO and ZANGA.           Know then, Don CarlosA7on. Oh, what a pain to think! when every   Alon. Oh!
thought,                               Zan. You cannot bear it.
Perplexing thought, in intricacies runs,       Alon. Go on, I'll have it, though it blast manAnd reason knits th' inextricable toil,               kind;
in which herself is taken!                   I'll have it all, and instantly. Go on.
No more I'll bear this battle of the mind,.:  Zan. Don Carlos did return. at dead of nightThis inward anarchy:; hut find my wife,'.     That night, by chance (ill chance for me) dld I
And, to her trembling heart presenting death,  Command the watch that guards the palace gate.
Force all the secret from her.               He told me he had letters for the king, 
Zan. 0, forbear!... Despatch'd from you.
You totter on the very brink of ruin.          Alon. The villain-lied!
Alon. What dost thou mean..             Zan. My lord,
Zan. That will discover all,               I pray, forbear-Transported at his sight,
And kill my hopes.: Whatican I think or do?   After so long a bondage, and your. friend,
[Aside. (Who could suspect him of-an artifice )
Alon. What,: dost thou murmur?            No further I inquir'd, but let him pass,
Zan.- Force the -secret-froin her?:       False to-my trust, at least imprudent in it.
What's perjury to such a crime as this'     Our watch: reliev'd, I went into the garden,
Will she confess it then?- 0, groundless hope!   As is: my custom, when the night's serene,
But rest assur'd, she'll' make- this accusation,  And took a moonlight walk: when soon I heard
Or false or true, your..ruin with the king;  A rustling in an arbour that was near me.
Such is her father's power.                  I saw two lovers in each others' arms,'-Alon.: No more, I-care-not;.      Embracing and embrac'd. Anon the man
Rather than groan beneath this load, I'll die.  Arose; and, falling back some paces from her,
Zan.'But for what better will you change this Gaz'd ardently awhile,:then- rush'd at once,
loawd                n -             And, throwing all himself into her bosom;:
Grant. you should know it, would not that be. There softly sigh'd, "Oh, night of ecstasy!
worse.                 When shall we meet again'"-Don Carlos then
Alon. No; it would cure me of my mortal pangs Led Leonora forth.
By hatred and contempt: 1 should despise her,  Alon. Oh, oh, my heart! -
And all my love-bred agonies would vanish.                           [He sinks into a chai,.
Zan. Ah! were I sure of that, my lord-      Zan. Groan on, and with the sound refresh
Alon. What then?  my soul!
Zan. You should not hazard life to gain the'Tis through his heart; his knees smite one anosecret.                                      ther:
Alon. What dost thou mean. thou know'st I'm'Tis through his brain, his eye-balls roll in an
on the rack.                                 guish.                        [Aside
I'll not be play'd with; speak, -if thois hast aught,  My lord, my lord, why will you rack my soul?
Or I this instant fly to Leonora               Alon. Oh, she was all 




340                            THE REVENGE.                                   LACT IV.
My fame, my friendship, and my love of arms,   Heaven's pay on earth for such great souls as
All stoop'd to her; my blood was her possession.     yours;-'Deep in the secret foldings of my heart     If fair and innocent, I am your due.
She liv'd with life, and far the dearer she:  Alon. Innocent!                    [Aside.
To think on't is the torment of the damn'd,   Leon. How, my lord! I interrupt you.
And not to think on't is impossible.:         Alon. No, my best life! I must not part with
Zan. You said you'd bear it like a man.            theeAlon. I do.                                This hand is mine-Oh, what a hand is here i
Am I not most distracted?                  So soft, souls sink into it, and are lost!
Zan. Pray, be calm..            Leon. In tears, my lord!
Alon. As hurricanes: —be thou assur'd of that.   Alon. What less can speak my joy 
Zan. Is this the wise Alonzo?            Why, I could gaze upon thy looks for ever,
Alon. Villain, no:                        And drink in all my being from thine eyes;
He died in the arbour-he was murder'd there!-  And I could snatch a flaming thunderbolt,
Zan. Alas! he weeps.                      And hurl destruction!Alon. Go, dig her grave!                   Leon. My lord, you fright me.
Zan. My lord!                             Is this the fondness of your nuptial hour?
Alon. But that her blood's too hot, I would ca- Why, when I woo your hand, is it denied me?
rouse it                            Your very eyes, why are they taught to shun
Around iny bridal board!                            me?Zan. And I would pledge thee.     [Aside. Nay, my good lord, I have a title here.
Alon. But I may talk too fast. Pray let me                            [Takes his hand.
think,                              And I will have it. Am I not your wife?
And reason mildly. —Wedded and undone       Have I not just authority to know
Before one night descends.-Oh, hasty evil!  That heart which I have purchas'd with my own?
What friend to comfort me in my extreme!   Tell me the secret; I conjure you, tell me.
-Where's Carlos? why is Carlos absent from me 2 Speak then, I charge you speak, or I expire,
Does he know what has happen'd?             And load you with my death. My lord, my lord;
Zan. My lord!                               Alon. Ha, ha, ha!
Atln. Oh, villain, villain, most accurs'd!    [He breaks from  her, and she sinks upon
If thou didst know it, why didst let me wed?      thefloor.
Zan. Hear me, my lord; your anger will abate?   Leon. Arq these the joys which fondly I con
I knew it not:-I saw them in the garden;             ceived?
But saw no more than you might well expect  And is it thus a wedded life begins?.
To see in lovers destin'd for each other.   What did I part with, when I gave my heart.
By Heaven. I thought their meeting innocent.   I knew not that all happiness went with it.
Who could suspect fair Leonora's virtue,    Why did I leave my tender father's wing,'Till after-proofs conspir'd to blacken it?.  And venture into love? The maid that loves,
Sad proofs. which came too late, which broke not Goes out to sea upon a shatter'd plank,
out,                                And puts her trust in miracles for safety.
(Eternal curses on Alvarez' haste!)         Where shall I sigh — where pour out my coin-'Till holy rites had made the wanton yours           plaintS
And then, I own, I labour'd to conceal it,  He that should hear, should succour, should reIn duty and compassion to your peace.                dress,
Alon. Live now, be damn'd hereafter-for I He is the source of all.
want thee.                            Alon. Go to thy chamber;
Let me think'                               I soon will follow; that which now disturbs thee
The jess'mine bower-'tis secret and remote:  Shall be clear'd up, and thou shalt not condemn
Go, wait thee there, and take thy dagger with       me.                  [Exit LEONORA.
thee.                 [Exit ZANGA. Oh, how like innocence she looks! —What, stab
How sweet the sound still sings within my ear!     her!
When shall we meet again?-To-night, in hell.  And rush into her blood 
[Going. How then? why thus-no more; it is determin'd.
Enter LEONORA.                              Re-enter ZANGA.
Ha! I'm surprised! I stagger at her charms!  Zan. I fear, his heart has fail'd him. She must
Oh, angel-devil!-Shall I stab her now?            die.
No —it shall be as I at first determin'd.   Can I not rouse the snake that's in his bosom,
To kill her now were half my vengeance lost.  To sting out human nature, and effect it?
-Then I must now dissemble-if I can.                                              [Aside.
Leon. My lord, excuse me,; see, a second time   Alon. This vast and solid earth, that blazing
I come in embassy from all your friends,             sun,
Whose joys are languid, uninspir'd by you.  Those skies, through which it rolls, must all have
Alon.. This moment, Leonora, I was coming          end.
To thee, and all-but sure, or I mistake,    What then is man?. the smallest part of nothing
Or thou canst well inspire my friends with joy.   Day buries day; month, month; and year the
Leon. What says my lord?                          year.
Alon. Thou art exceeding fair.             Our life is but a chain of many deaths;
Leon. Beauty alone is but of little worth;  Can then death's self be fear'd? our life much
But, when the soul and body of a piece               rather.
Both shine alike,-then they obtain a price,  Life is the desert, life the solitude.
A nd are a fit reward for gallant actions,   Death join us to the great majority:




SCENE I.]                      T HE  REVENGE.                                      341'Tis to be borne to Platos and to Cresars;   And each shall cast a smile upon my tomb.
Tis to be great for ever;                    I am convinc'd; I must not, will not die.'Tis pleasure,'tis ambition, then, to die.    Zan. You cannot die; nor can you murder hei
Zan. I think, my lord, you talk'd of death?    What then remains? In nature no third way,
Alon. I did.                               But to forget, and so to love again.
Zan. I give you joy; then Leonora's dead?   Alon. Oh!
A/on.'No Zanga; to shed a woman's blood     Zan. If you forgive, the world will call you
Would stain my sword, and make my wars in-.           good;
glorious;                            If you forget, the world will call you wise;
He who, superior to the checks of nature.    If you receive her to your grace again,
Dares make his life the victim of his reason,  The world will call you-very, very kind.
Does in some sort that reason deify,           Alon. Zanga, I understand thee well. She dies;
And take a flight at heaven.                 Though my arm tremble at the stroke, she dies.
Zan. Alas, my lord,                          Zan. That's truly great. What think you
Tis not your reason, but her beauty, finds'twas set up
Those arguments, and throws you on your sword. The Greek and Roman name is such a lustre
You cannot close an eye that is so bright,   But doing right in stern despite to nature;
You cannot strike a breast that is so soft,  Shutting their ears to all her little cries,
That has ten thousand ecstasies in store-    When great, august, and godlike justice call'd.
For Carlos?-No, my lord, I mean for you.    At Aulis, one pour'd out a daughter's life,
Alon. Oh, through my heart and marrow! And gain'd more glory than by all his wars;
pr'ythee, spare me,                  Another slew a sister in just rage;
Nor more upbraid the weakness of thy lord:   A third, the theme of all succeeding times,
I own, I tried, I quarrell'd with my heart,  Gave to the cruel axe a darling son:
And push'd it on, and bid it give her death;  Nay more, for justice some devote themselves,
But, oh, her eyes struck first and murder'd me.   As he at Carthage, an immortal name!
Zan. I know not what to answer to my lord.  Yet there is one step left above them all,
Men are but men; we did not make ourselves,    Above their history, above their fable:
Farewell then, my best lord, since you must die.  A wife, bride, mistress, unenjoy'd-do that,
Oh, that I were to share your monument,      And tread upon the Greek and Roman glory
And in eternal darkness close these eyes       Alon.'Tis done!-Again new transports fire
Against those scenes which I am doomed to suffer!   my brain:
Alon. What dost thou mean?                 I had forgot it,'tis my bridal night.
Zan. And is it then unknown?               Friend, give me joy, we must be gay together,
Oh, grief of heart, to think that you should ask it! See that the festival be duly honour'd.
Sure you distrust that ardent love I bear you,    And when with garlands the full bowl is crown'd,
Else could you doubt when you are laid in dust-  Arid music gives her elevating sound,
But it will cut my poor heart through and through, And golden carpets spread the sacred floor,
To see those revel on your sacred tomb,      And a new day the blazing tapers pour,
Who brought you thither by their lawless loves.  Thou, Zanga, then my solemn friends invite,
For there they'll revel, and exult to find   From the dark realms of everlasting night;
Him sleep so fast, who else might mar their joys. Call Vengeance, call the Furies, call Despair,
Alon. Distraction! But Don Carlos well thou And Death, our chief-invited guest, be there;
know'st.                             He, with pale hand, shall lead the bride, and
Is sheath'd in steel, and bent on other thoughts.     spread
Zan. I'll work him to the murder of his friend. Eternal curtains round our nuptial bed.
[Aside.                                    [Exeunt.
Yes, till the fever of his blood returns,                     ACT  V.
While her last kiss still glows upon his cheek.
But when he finds Alonzo is no more,
How will he rush, like lightning, to her arms!      Enter ALONZO, meeting ZANGA.
There sigh, there languish, there pour out his soul;   Alon. Is Carlos murdered 
But not in grief-sad obsequies to thee!-      Zan. I obey'd your order.
But thou wilt be at peace, nor see, nor hear  Six ruffians overtook him on the road;
The burning kiss, the sigh of ecstacy,       He fought as he was wont, and four he slew.
Their throbbing hearts that jostle one another:   Then sunk beneath a hundred wounds to deathl,
Thank Heaven, these torments will be all my own. His last breath bless'd A.lonzo, and desired
Alon. I'll ease thee of that pain. Let Carlos His bones might rest near yours.
die;                                   Alon. Oh, Zanga! Zanga!
O'ertake him on the road, and see it done.   But I'll not think: for I must act, and thinking'Tis my command.           [Gives his signet. Would ruin me for action.
Zan. I dare not disobey.                   Where's Leonora then   Q.uick, answer me
Alon. My Zanga, now I have thy leave to die. I'm deep in horrors, I'll be deeper still.
Zan. Ah, Sir! think, think again. Are all I find the artifice did take effect,
men buried                           And she forgives my late deportment to her.
In Carlos' grave? you know not womankind:     Zan. I told her, from your childhood you wa.
When once the throbbing of the heart has broke       wont,
The modest zone, with which it first was tied,   On any great surprise, but chiefly then
Each man she meets will be a Carlos to her.  When cause of sorrow bore it company,
Alon. That thought has more of hell than had To have your passion shake the seat of reason;
the former.                          A momentary ill, which soon blew o'er:
Another, and another, and anotherl           Then did I tell her of Don Carlos' death,
29*




34t2'~-                          THE  REVEN-GE.                                    [ACT V.
(Wisely suppressing by:what means he fell,):'   Your friend is dead: in friendship you sustain
And laid the blame on that. At first she doubted;  A mighty loss: repair it with my love.
But such the honest artifice Ius'd,       -      Alon. Thy:love,:thou piece of witchcraft! I
And such her ardent wish it should be true,             would say,
That she, at length, was fully satisfied.      Thou brightest angel! I could gaze for ever.
But what design you, Sir, and how?             But oh, those eyes! those murderers! Oh, whence,
Alon. I'll tell thee.:        Whence didst' thou steal their burning orbs'. from
rhus I've ordain'd it. In the jess'mine bower,         Heaven''['he place which she dishonour'd with her guilt,  Thou didst; and'tis religion to adore them.
There will 1 meet her; the appointment's made;   Leon. My best Alonzo, moderate your thoughts.
And calmly spread (for I can do it now)        Extremes still fright me, though of love itself.
The blackness of her crime before her sight;      Alon. Extremes indeed! it hurry'd me away;
And then, with all the cool solemnity          But I come home again-and now for justiceOf public justice, give her to the grave.   [Exit. And now for death-It is impossible-   [Aside.
Zan. Why, get thee gone! horror and night I leave her to just Heaven.
go with thee.                                            [Drops the dagger, goes of.
Sisters of Acheron, go hand in hand,             Leon. Ha, a dagger l
Go dance around the bower, and close them;     What dost thou say, thou minister of death?
And tell them,'that I sent you to salute them;'What dreadful tale dost tell me?-Let me thinkProfane the -ground; and for th' ambrosial rose,
And breath of jess'mine, let hemlock blacken',                 Enter ZANGA.
And deadly nightshade poison all the air.        Zan. Death to my towering hope! Oh! fall
For the sweet nightingale, may ravens croak,            from high!
Toads pant, and adders rustle through the leaves; My close, long-labour'd scheme at once is blasted,
May serpents winding up the trees let fall     That dagger, found, will cause her to inquire;
Their hissing necks upon them from: above,     Inquiry will discover all; my hopes
And mingle kisses-such as 1 would give them.  Of vengeance perish; I myself am lost[Exit. Curse on the coward's heart; wither his hand,
SCENE II.-The Bower.                 Which-held -the steel in vain!-what can bedone?
Enter ALONZO-LEONOA seeping. here can I fix?-that's something still-'twill
Enter ALONZO. —LEONORA sleeping..
breed
Alon. Ye amaranths! ye roses, like the morn!  Fell rage and bitterness betwixt their souls,
Sweet myrtles, and ye golden orange groves:!   Which may, perchance, grow up to greater evil:
Why do you smile? Why do you look so fair?  If not,'tis all I can-It shall be so-    [Asidce.
Are ye not blighted as I enter in?.      Leon. Oh, Zanga, I am sinking in my Lars!
Did ever midnight ghosts assemble here 1       Alonzo dropp'd this dagger as he left me,;
Have these sweet echoes ever learn'd to groan?    And left me in a strange disorder too.
Joy-giving, love-inspiring, holy bower!      What can this mean? Angels preserve his life! t
Know, in thy fragrant bosom thou receiv'st       Zan. Yours, Madam, yours.
A-murderer! Oh, I shall stain thy lilies,        Leon. What, Zanga, dost thou say?
And horror will usurp the seat of bliss.         Zan. Carry you goodness then to such ex[Advances.          tremes,
Ha! she sleeps —                               So blinded to the faults of him you love,
The day's uncommon heat has overcome her.      That you perceive not he is jealous?
Then take, my longing eyes, your'last, full gaze.    Leon. Heavens!
Oh, what a sight is here! how dreadful fair!  And yet a thousand things recur that swear it.
Who would not think that being innocent?      What villain could inspire him with that thought I
Where shall I strike?:who strikes her, strikes It is not of the growth of his own nature.
himself.                                Zan. Some villain; who, hell knows; but he is
My own life-blood will issue at her wound.             jealous;
But see, she smiles! I never shall smile more;    And'tis most fit a heart so pure as yours
It strongly tempts me to a parting kiss.       Do itself justice, and assert its honour,:Going, he starts back. And make him conscious of his stab to virtue.
Ha! smile again. She -dreams of him she loves.  Leon. Jealous! it sickens at my heart. Unkind,
Curse on her charms!: LI'll stab her through them all. Ungen'rous, groundless, weak, and insolent!:.. - - I:[:s he is. going to strike, she mwakes. Why, wherefore?on what shadow of occasion?
Leon. My-lord,  your stay was long:; and yon- Oh, how the great man:lessens to my thought t
der lull'';    How could so mean. a vice as jealousy
Of falling waters tempted me to rest,.;        Live in a throng of such exalted virtues I
Dispirited with noon's excessive heat.         I scorn and hate, yet love him,'and adore.
Alon. Ye powers! with:what an eye she mends I cannot, will not,: dare not, think it true,
the -day!::'Till from himself I know it.-  -      [Exit
While they-were clos'd, I should have given the    Zan. -This succeeds
blow.:: - -Aside. Just to my- wish; Now she, with violence,
Leon. What says my lord?                    Upbraids him; he, not doubYing she is guilty,
Alon.: WVhy, this Alonzo says:    i          Rages no less; and if on either side
It love were endless, men were gods~;:'tis that    — The waves run high, there still lives hope of ruin
Does counterbalance travel, danger, pain-'Tis Heaven's expedient to make mortals bear                 Betenter ALONZO.
The light, and cheat them- of the peaceful grave,  My lordLeon. Alas, my lord! why talk you of the    Alon. Oh, Zanga, hold thy peace! I am no
grave'                  coward;




sOCENE II.]                    T HiE  REVEN GE.                                    443
But Heaven itself did hold my hand; I felt it,    Nor did I tell thee; who did tell thee then 1'
By the well-being of my: soul, I did.        Guilt, conscious guilt!
I'll think of vengeance at another season.     Leon. T'ids to my 1 ce! Oh flearln!'
Zan. My lord, her-guilt-                     Alon. Ti ds to thy very soul.
Alon. Perdition on thee, Moor.               Leon. Thou'rt not in earnest?
For that one word! Ah, do not rouse thatthought!   Alon. Serious as death.
I have o'erwhelm'd it much as possible:        Leon. Then Heaven have mercy on!. eeI tell thee, Moor i love her to distraction.  Till now, I struggled not to think it true;
If'tis my shame, why, be it so-I love her;:   I sought conviction, and would not believe it.
I could not hurt her to be lord of earth;    And dost thou force me' this shall not be borne
It shocks my nature like a stroke from Heaven.   Thou shalt repent this insult.  [Going
But see, my Leonora comes-Be gone.             Alon. Madam, stay.
[Exit ZANGA   Your passion's wise;'tis a disguise for guilt:
You and your thousand arts shall not escape me
Re-enter LEONORA.                 Leon. Arts'!
Oh, seen for ever, yet for ever new i          Alon. Arts! Confess; for death is in my hand
The conquer'd thou dost conquer o'er again,    Leon.'Tis in your words.
Inflicting wound on wound.                     Alon. Confess, confess, confess!
Leon. Alas, my lord!                       Nor tear my veins with passion to comrrpel tkate.
What need of this to me'                       Leon. I scorn to answer thee, presumptuov,
Alon. Ha! dost thou weep.                         man!
Leon. Have 1 no cause'?                      Alon. Deny then, and incur a fouler shame.:Alon. If love is thy concern,              Where did I find this picture 2
Thou hast no cause: none ever lcv'd like me.   Leon. Ha, Don Carlos!
Oh, that this one embrace would last for ever!    By my best hopes, more welcome than thy own
Leon. Could this man ever mean to wrong my    Alon. I know it; but is vice so very rank,
virtue'.                            That thou should'st dare to dash it in my face 
Could this man e'er design upon my life'    Nature is sick of thee, abandon'd woman!
Impossible! I throw away the thought.  [Aside.   Leon. Repent.
These tears declare how much I taste the joy   Alon. Is that for me'
Of being folded in your arms and heart;        Leon. Fall, ask my pardon.
My universe does lie within that space.        Alon. Astonishment!
This dagger bore false witness.                Leon. Dar'st thou persist to think I am dia
Alon. Ha, my dagger!                              honest'
It rouses horrid images. Away,                 Alon. I know thee so.
Away with it, and let us talk of love.         Leon. This blow then to thy heart —
Leon. Of death!                            [She stabs herself; he endeavours to prevent her
Alon, As thou lov'st happiness —             Alon. Ho, Zanga! Isabella! ho! she bleeds!
Leon. Of murder!                           Descend, ye blessed angels, to assist her!
Alon. Rash,                                  Leon. This is the only way I would wound thee
Rash woman! yet forbear.                     Though most unjust. _Now think me guilty still
Alas, thou quite mistak'st my cause of pain!               Eter 
Yet, yet dismiss me; I am all in flames.
Leon. Who has most cause, you or myself'!   Alon. Bear her to instant help.  The world to
what act                                     save her.
Of my whole life encourag'd you to this.      Leon.. Unhappy man! well may'st thou gaze
Or of your own, what guilt has drawn it on you'     and tremble.
You find me kind, and think me kind to all;  But fix thy terror and amazement right;
The weak, ungenerous error of your sex.      Not on my blood, but on thy own distraction.
What could inspire the thought'  We oft'nest What hast thou done. whom censur'd-Leonora.
judge                                When thou hadst censur'd, thou wouldst save
From our own hearts; and is yours then so frail,     her life:
It prompts you to conceive thus ill of me'  Oh, inconsistent! should I live in shame,
He that can stoop to harbour such a thought,  Or stoop to any other means but this,Deserves to find it true.     [Holding him. T' assert my virtue'  no: she: who disputes,
Alon. [Turning on her.] Ill-fated woman!   Admits it possible she might be guilty.
Why hast thou forc'd; me back into: the gulf  While aught but truth could be my inducenment
Of agonies I had block'd up from thought'!           to it.
For, since thou hast replung'd me in my torture,.While it might look like an excuse to thee,. will be satisfied.                         I scorn'd to vindicate my innocence:
Leon. Be satisfied!                        But now, I let thy rashness know, the wound
Alon. Yes, thy own mouth shall witness it Which least I feel, is that my dagger made
against thee;                                [Exit ISABELLA, leading out LEON)RA.
I will be satisfied.                           Alon. Ha! was this woman guilty?- And if
Leon. Of what'  notAlon. Of what':                           How my:thoughts darken that way! grant, kind
HOw dar'st thou ask that, question'   Woman          Heaven;
woman,.                             That she prove guilty; or my being end.
Weak and assur'd -at once! thus'tis for ever.    Is that my hope, then?-Sure, the sacred dust
Who told thee that thy virtue was suspected'  Of her that bore me trembles in its urn
Who told thee I design'd upon thy life?      s it in man the sore distress to bear,
You found the-dagger,; but that could not speak; When hope itself is blacken'd to despair?




$44                             THE  REVENGE.                                  [AcT -,
When all the bliss 1 pant for, is to gain      Alon. Inhuman slave!
In bell, a refuge from severer pain?  [Exit.   Zan. Fallen Christian, thou mistak'st mv character.
Re-enter ZANGA.               Look on me. Who am I.-I know, thou say'st
Zan. How stands the great account'twixt me The Moor, a slave, an abject, beaten slave:
and vengeance?                     (Eternal woes to him that made me so!)
Though much is paid, yet still it owes me much,  But look again. Has six years' cruel bondage
And I will not abate a single groan —        Extinguish d majesty so far, that nought
Ha! that were well-but that were fatal too-    Shines here to give an awe of one above thee?
Why, be it so-Revenge so truly great,        When the great Moorish king, Abdallah, fell,
Would come too cheap, if bought with less than  Fell by thy hand accurs'd, I fought fast by him,
life.                                His son, though, through his fondness, in disguise
Less to expose me to th' ambitious foe.-. Re-enter ISABELLA.         Ha! does it wake thee?-O'er my father's corse
Isa. Ah, Zanga, see me tremble! Has not yet I stood astride till I had clove thy crest;
Thy cruel heart its fill? Poor Leonora-     And then was made the captive of a squadron,
Zan. Welters in blood, and gasps for her last And sunk into thy servant-But, oh! what,
breath.                             What were my wages? Hear not Heaven, n.n
What then 1 We all must die.                         earth!
Isa. Alonzo raves,                         My wages were a blow! by Heaven, a blow!
And, in the tempest of his grief, has thrice  And from a mortal hand!
Attempted on his life. At length, disarm'd,    Alon. Oh, villain, villain!
He calls his friends, that save him, his worst foes,   Zan. All strife is vain! [Showing a dagge?.
And importunes the skies for swift perdition.  Alon. Is thus my love return'd?
Thus in his storm of sorrow: after pause,    Is this my recompense? Make friends of tigers!
He started up, and call'd aloud for Zanga;   Lay not your young, oh, mothers, on the breast,
For Zanga raved; and see, he seeks you here,    For fear they turn to serpents as they lie,
To learn that truth, which most he dreads to know. And pay you for their nourishment with death!Zan Begone. Now, now, my soul, consum- Carlos is dead, and Leonora dying!
mate all.           [Exit ISABELLA. Both innocent, both murder'd, both by me.
Re-enter ALoNZo.                 Zan. Must I despise thee too, as well as hate
thee?
Alon. Oh, Zanga!                          Complain of grief, complain thou art a man.Zan. Do not tremble so; but speak.         Priam from fortune's lofty summit fell;
Alon. I dare not.           [Falls on him. Great Alexander'midst his conquests mourn'd;
Zan. You will drown me with your tears.    Heroes and demi-gods have known their sorrows
Alon. Have I not cause?                   Ciesars have wept; and I have had-my blow;
Zan. As yet, you have no cause.            But,'tis reveng'd, and now my work is done.
Alon. Dost thou too rave?                 Yet, ere 1 fall, be it one part of vengeance
Zan. Your anguish is to come:              To force thee to confess that I am just.You much have been abus'd.                   Thou seest a prince, whose father thou hast slain,
Alon. Abus'd! by whom?                   Whose native country thou hast laid in blood,
Zan. To know, were little comfort.         Whose sacred person (oh!) thou hast profan'd,
Alon. Oh,'twere much!                     Whose reign extinguish'd-what was left to me,
Zan. Indeed!                               So highly born? No kingdom, but reveng-;
Alon. By Heaven! Oh, give him to my fury!  No treasure but thy tortures and thy grois.
Zan. Born for your use, 1 live but to oblige you. If men should ask who brought thee to thy end,
Know, then,'twas-I.                         Tell them, the Moor, and they will not despise
Alon. Am I awake?  thee.
Zan. For ever.                -            If cold white mortals censure this great deed,
Thy wife is guiltless-that's one transport to me; Warn them, they judge not of superior beings,
And I, I let thee know it-that's another.   Souls made of fire, and children of the sun,
I urg'd Don Carlos to resign his mistress,  With whom revenge is virtue. Fare thee well —
I forg'd the letter, I dispos'd the picture;  Now, filly satisfied, I should take leave:
I hated, I despis'd, and I destroy!          But one thing grieves me, since thy death is near,
Alon. Oh!                        [Swoons. I leave thee my example how to die.
Zan. Why, this is well —why, this is blow for As he is going to stab himself, ALONZO rushes
blow!                                 upon him to prevent him. In the mean time,
Where are you? Crown me, shadow me with   enter DON ALVAREZ, attended.  They disarm
laurels                               and seize ZANGA. ALONZO puts the dagger in
Ye spirits which delight in just revenge!     his bosom.
Let Europe and her pallid sons go weep;        Alon. No, monster, thou shalt not escape by
Let Afric and her hundred thrones rejoice:           death.
Oh, my dear countrymen, look down and see    Oh, father!
How I bestride your prostrate conqueror!       Alv. Oh, Alonzo!-Isabella,
I tread on haughty Spain, and all her kings.  Touch'd with remorse to see her mistress' pangs,
But this is mercy, this is my indulgence;    Told all the dreadful tale.'Tis peace,'tis refuge from my indignation.   Alon. What groan was that?
I must awake him into horrors. Hoa!           Zan. As I have been a vulture to thy heart.
Alonzo, hoa! the Moor is at the gate!        So will I be a raven to thine ear,
Awake, invincible, omnipotent!              As true as ever snuff'd the scent of blood,
Thou who dost all subdue!                   As ever flapp'd its heavy wing against




SCENE II.]                     THE  REVENGE.                                       345
The window of the sick, and croak'd despair.  The wounds that pain'd, the wounds that murThy wife is dead.                                    der'd me,
[ALVAREZ goes aside, and returns. Were given before; I am already dead;
Alv. The dreadful news is true.            This only marks my body for the grave.
Alon. Prepare the rack; invent new torments                              [Stabs himself.
for him.                            Afric, thou art reveng'd. —Oh, Leonora!
Zen. This too is well. The fix'd and noble mind                                  [Dies.
Turns all occurrence to its own advantage;     Zan. Good ruffians, give me leave; my blood
And I'll make vengeance of calamity.                is yours,
Were I not thus reduc'd, thou wouldst not know, The wheel's prepar'd, and you shall have it
That, thus reduc'd, I dare/defy thee still.          all.
Torture thou may'st, but thou shalt ne'er despise Let me but look one moment on the dead.
me.                                 And pay yourselves with gazing on my pangs.
The blood will follow where the knife is driven,                [He goes to AiLONZO's body.
The flesh will quiver where the pincers tear,  Is this Alonzo 1 Where's the haughty mien?
And sighs and cries by nature grow on pain.  Is that the hand which smote me? Heavens, how
But these are foreign to the soul: not mine          pale!
The groans that issue, or the tears that fall;  And art thou dead! So is my enmity.
They disobey me; on the rack I scorn thee,   I war not with the dust. The great. the proud,
As when my falchion clove thy helm in battle.    The conqueror of Afric, was my foe.
Alv. Peace, villain!                       A lion preys not upon carcasses.
Zan. While I live, old man, I'll speak:    This was the only method to subdue me.
And, well I know, thou dar'st not kill me yet;    Terror and doubt fall on me: all thy good
For that would rob thy blood-hounds of their prey. Now blazes, all thy guilt is in the grave.
Alon. Who call'd Alonzo'                  Never had man such funeral applause:
Alv. No one call'd, my son.                If I lament thee, sure thy worth was great.
Alon. Again!-'Tis Carlos' voice, and I obey.  Oh, vengeance, I hlave follow'd thee too far,
Oh, how I laugh at all that this can do!     And to receive me, hell blows all her fires.
VOL.      [Shows the dagger.                          [Exeurt.
VOL. I,...2X




TH E RIVALS:
A COMEDY,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY R. B. SHERIDAN, ESQ.
REMARKS.
THIS was the earliest theatrical production of Mr. Sheridan, and was first brought on the stage at Covent Garden in the year 1775, when it was disliked by the audience, and of course laid aside.
On subsequent revival, at Covent Garden and at Drury Lane, the public were highly delighted with it; and it:s still looked upon as an excellent specimen:of pure and just Comedy, which the judges of theatrical composition
had so long deplored the want of.
Comedy proposes for its object the exposure of the follies and slighter vices of mankind, so;as to raise in the be.
holders a sense of their impropriety, and to expose them to censure and laughter: it endeavours to
" Catch the manners living as they rise;"
tita, in the Rivals, its judicious author has given pictures taken from among ourselves: he has satirized the reign
ing vices; and exhibited to the age a faithful copy of itself, with its humours, its follies, its manners, and its exiavagancies.
DRAMATIS PERSONiE.
As originally acted.     COVENT GARDEN, 1813.   DRURY LANE, 1814.
SIR ANTHONY ABSOLUTE,.... Mr. Shuter.......... Mr. Fawcett......... Mr. Dowtos.
CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE,...........Mr. Woodward........ Mr. C. Kemble..........Mr. Elliston.
SIR Lucius O'TRIGGER,        Mr Lee.                Mr. Jones..... Mr. Johnstonle.
Mr. Clinch...........
FAULKLAND,............ Mr. Lewis.......... Mr. Abbott..............Ir. Holland.
ACRES,...Mr. Quick........... Mr. Liston.............. Mr. Bannister
FAG,..                     Mr. Lee Lewis..........Mr. Farley.............. Mr. Decanmp.
DAVID,...Mr. Dutnslall..........Mr. Emery.........Mr Penley.
JAMES,............Mr. Lee................ Mr. Buxton.
COACHMAN.. Mr.  Fearon...........Mr. Atkins....... Mr. Mattocks.
SERVANTS,.Mr. Sarjant.                                                       Mr. J. West.
Mr. Truman..  Ev...... ans.
MRS. MALAPROP,............Mrs. Green........... Mrs. Davenport.Mrs. Sparks.
LYDIA LANGUISH,...........M ss Barsanti..........Miss S. Booth............Mrs. Edwin.
JULIA,..................,  Mrs. Bulkley........... Miss Cooke.......         Mrs. Davison
LUCY,............ Mrs. Lessingam........           Miss Logan...Mrs. Harlowe.
JENNY.....,,.....................Miss Cox................. Mrs. Chatterley.
SCENE.-Bath.
Time of action, within one day.
ACT I.                       teers, you look as hearty!-but who the detuce
SCENE- I.-A Street at Bath.              thought of seeing you in Bath?
Coach. Sure, master, Madam Julia, Harry,
COACHMAN crosses the Stage.-Enter FAG, look- Mrs. Kate, and the postillion, be all come.
ing after him.                     Fag. Indeed!
Coach. Ay: master thought another fit of the
Fag. What, Thomas! Sure,'tlis he!-What.  gout was coming to make him a visit, so he'd a
Thomas, Thomas!                                 mind to gi't the slip, —and whip! we were all off
Coach. Hey! odd's life! Mr. Fag; give us your at an hour's warning.
hand, my old fellow-servant!                     I  Fag. Ay, ay; hasty in every thing, or it would
Fag. Excuse my-glove, Thomas; I'm devilish i not be Sir Anthony Absolute.
glad to see you, my lad! why, my prince of chario- j  Coach. But tell us, Mr. Fag, how does young
346




SCEm II.J                        THE  RIVALS.                                      347
master? Odd, Sir Anthony will stare, to see the mine,, the lawyers and doctors may cd) as they
c.aptain here!                               will.
Fag. I do not serve Captain Absolute now.    Fag. Well, Thomas, we'll not quarrel about
Coach. Why, sure!                          that. But hold, mark-mark, Thomas.
Fag. At present, I am employed by Ensign-  Coach. Zooks,'tis the captain! Is that the lady
Beverley.                                    with him?
Coach. I doubt, Mr.: Fag, you ha'n't changed    Fag. No, no, that is Madam Lucy, my masfor the better.                              ter's mistress' maid:; they lodge at that -houseFag. I have not changed,: Thomas.          but I must after him, to tell him the news.
Coach. No! why, didn't you say, you had left   Coach. Odd, he's giving her money -Well,
young master?                                Mr. FagFag. No. Well, honest Thomas, I must puz-   Fag. Good bye, Thomas; I have an appointzle you no further;-brieflythen-Captain Abso- ment *in Gyde's porch, this evening, at eight;
lute and Ensign Beverley are one and the same  meet me there, and we'll make a little party.
person.                                                                [Exeunt severally.
Coach. The devil they are: do tell us, Mr.
Fag, the meaning on't.
F'ag. You'll be secret, Thomas?                       MALAPROP's Lodgings.
Coach. As a coach horse.                  LYDIA LANGUISH sitting on a Sofa, with a book
Fag. Why, then the cause of all this is love,   in her hand; LucY, as just returned from  a
— love, Thomas, who has been a masquerader   message.
ever since the days of Jupiter.
Coach. But, pray, why does your master pass.Lucy. Indeed, Ma'am, I traversed half the town
in search of it: 1 don't believe there's a circulatonly fr ensgn!-nw, ifhe had shammed general, indeed —                               mg library in Bath I ha'n't been at.
Fag. Ah, Thomas! there lies the mystery - Lyd. And could not you get "The Reward of
o'the matter!-Harkve, Thomas, my master is in  Constancy 2"
love with a lady of a very singular taste-a lady,   Lucy. No, indeed, Ma'am.
who likes- him better as a half-pay ensign, than    Lyd. Nor' The Fatal Connexion?"
if she knew he was son and heir to Sir Anthony    Lucy. No, indeed, Ma'am.
Absolute, a baronet of three thousand a year.  Lyd. Nor  The Mistakes of the Heart?"
Coach. That is an odd taste, indeed! but has   Lucy. Ma'am, as ill luck would have it, Mr.
she got the stuff, Mr. Fag?  is she rich, eh  — Bull said, Miss Sukey Saunter had just fetched
Fag. Rich! why, I believe she owns half the it away.
stocks! Zounds, Thomas, she could pay the na-   Lyd. Heigho!  Did  you inquirefor "'h
tional debt, as easily as I could my washerwoman! Delicate Distress 
-She has a lap-dog that eats out of gold-she       Lucy. Or, "The Memoirs of Lady Woodfees her parrot with small pearls, and all her for d?" Yes, indeed, Ma'am, I asked every where
thread papers are made of bank notes!       for it; and I might have brought it from Mr.
Coach. Bravo, faith!-Odd! I warrant she has Frederick's, but lady Slattern Lounger, who had
a set of thousands, at least; but does she draw  just sent it home, ad so soiled and dog's-eared
kindly with the captain?                     it, it wa'n't fit for a Christian to read.
Fag. As fond as pigeons.                     Lyd. Heigho! Yes, I always know when lady
Slattern has been before me: She has a most ohCoach. May one hear her name?
Fag. Miss Lydia Languish:-But there is an serving thumb, and, 1 believe, cherishes her nails
old tough aunt in the way-though, by the bye, for the convenience of making marginal notes.
she has never seen my master-for he got ac-         child, what have you brought me 
quainted with Miss, while on a visit in Glouces-   Lucy. Oh, here, Ma'am! [Takingbooksfrom
tershire..      under her cloak, and from her pockets.] This is
Coach. Well, I wish they were once harnessed  "The Man of Feeling," and this, "oPeregrine
together in matrimony. But, pray, Mr. Fag, Pickle."-Here are "The Tears of Sensibility,'
what kind of a place is this Bath? I ha' heard a and "Humphrey Clinker."
great deal of it,;-here's a mort o' merry making,   Lyd. Hold  here's some one coming-quic,
eh?                                          see who it is-[Exit LucY.]-Surely, I heard ny
Fag. Pretty well, Thomas, pretty well-'tis a cousin Julia's voice!
good lounge —but, damn the place, I'm tired of              Enter LucY.
it; their regular hours stupify me-'not a fiddle or   Lucy. Lud, Ma'am! here is Miss Melville!
a card, after eleven! however, Mr. Faulkland's   Lyd. Is it possible!
gentleman and I keep it up a little, in private             Enter J
parties; —I'll introduce you there, Thomas, you'll
like him much.-But, Thomas, you must polish    Lyd. My dearest Julia, how delighted am 1:
a little-indeed, you must;-Here, now, this wig! [Embrace.] How unexpected was this happiness!
what, the devil, do you do with a wig, Thomas?    Jul. True, Lydia, and our pleasure is the
none of the London whips, of any degree of ton, greater; but what has been the matter? you were
wear wigs now.                               denied to me at first.
Coach. More's the pity, more's the pity, I say    Lyd. Ah, Julia, I have a thousand things to
-Odds: life!'when I heard how the lawyers and  tell' you! but first inform me what has con ured
doctors- had  took -t:their own hair, I thought how  you to Bath -Is Sir Anthony here?'twouldgo next. Odd rabbit it! when the fashion    Jul. He is; we are arrived within this hour,
had got foot on the bar, I guessed'twould mount and I suppose he will be here to wait on Mrs.
to the box! but'tis -all out of character, believe Malaprop as soon as he is dressed.
me, Mr. Fag: and lookye, I'll never give up:Lyd. Then, before we are interrupted,.let me




348                              THE RIVA LS.                                 AIrAT L
impart to you some of my drstress; 1 know your have you, for this long year, been a slave to the
gentle nature will sympathize with me, though caprice, the whim, the jealousy, of this ungrateful
your prudence may condemn me: My letters have Faulkland, who will ever delay assuming the
informed you of my whole connexion with Bever- right of a husband, while you suffer him to be
ley; but I have lost him, Julia! —My aunt has equally imperious as a lover.
discovered our intercourse, by a note she inter-   Jul. Nay, you are wrong entirely:-We were
cepted, and has confined me ever since: Yet, contracted before my father's death: That, and
would you believe it? she has fallen absolutely in some consequent embarrassments, have delayed
love with a tall Irish baronet, she met one night, what.1 know to be my Faulkland's most ardent
since we have been here, at lady Mac-shuffle's wish.-He is too generous to trifle on such a
rout.                                        point;-and, for his character, you wrong him
Jul. You jest, Lydia.                      there too.-No, Lydia, he is too proud, too noble
Lyd. No, upon my word: —She really carries to be jealous; if he is captious,'tis without dison a kind of correspondence with him, under a sembling; if fretful, without rudeness. Unused
feigned name though, till she chooses to be known to the fopperies of love, he is negligent of the little
to him;-but it isa Delia, or a Celia, I assure you. duties expected from a lover.-This temper, I
Jul. Then, surely, she is now more indulgent must own, has cost me many unhappy hours; but
to her niece.                               1 have learned to think myself his debtor for those
Lyd. Quite the contrary: since she has dis- imperfections which arise from the ardour of his
covered her own. frailty, she is become more sus- attachment.
picious of mine-Then I must inform  you of   Lyd. Well, I cannot blame you for defending
another plague; that odious Acres is to be in Bath  him; but, tell me candidly, Julia-had he never
to-day, so that I protest, I shall be teazed out of saved your life, do you think you should have been
all spirits!                                attached to him as you are' Believe me, the rude
Jul. Come, come, Lydia, hope for the best:-  blast that overset your boat was a prosperous gale
Sir Anthony shall use his interest with Mrs. of love to him.
M alaprop.                                     Jul. Gratitude may have strengthened my atLyd. But you have not heard the worst:-  tachment to Mr. Faulkland, but I loved him beUnfortunately I had quarrelled with my poor fore he had preserved me; yet, surely, that alone
Beverley, just before my aunt made the discovery, were an obligation sufficientand I have not seen him since, to make it up.  Lyd. Obligation! why, a water spaniel would
Jul. What was his offence?                have done as much! Well, I should never think
Lyd. Nothing at all; but I don't know how it of giving my heart to a man because he could
was, as often as we had been together, we had swim!-What's here 3
never had a quarrel; and, somehow, I was afraid        Enter LucY, in a hurry.
he would never give me an opportunity; so, last
Thursday, I wrote a letter to myself, to inform    Lucy. 0, Ma'am, here is Sir Anthony Absomyself that Beverley was, at that time, paying his lute, just come home with your aunt!
addresses to another woman.-I signed it,'Your   Lyd. They'll not come here:-Lucy, do you
friend unknown,' showed it to Beverley, charged  watch.                      [Exit LUCY.
him with his falsehood, put myself in a violent   Jul. Yet I must go; Sir Anthony does not
passion, and vowed I'd never see him more.   know I am here, and if we meet, he'll detain me,
Jul. And you let him depart so, and have not to show me the town. I'll take another opporseen him since 3                             tunity of paying my respects to Mrs. Malaprop,
Lyd.'Twas the next day my aunt found the when she shall treat me, as long as she chooses,
matter out; I intended only to have teazed him  with her select words, so ingeniously misapplied,
three days and a half, and now I've lost him for withoutbeing mispronounced.
ever.                                                       Enter LucY.
Jul. If he is as deserving and sincere as you    Lucy. 0 lud, Ma'am! they are both coming up
have represented him to me, he will never give stairs!
you up so. Yet consider, Lydia, you tell me he   Lyd. Well, I'll not detain you.-Adieu, my
is but an ensign-and you have thirty thousand dear Julia! I'm sure you are in haste to send to
pounds!                                    Faulkland.-There-through my room you'll find
L'yd. But, you know, I lose most of my fortune, another staircase.
If I marry, without my aunt's consent, till of age;   Jul. Adieu!            [Exit JULIA.
and that is what I have determined to do ever   Lyd. Here, my dear Lucy, hide these books.since I knew the penalty; nor could I love the Quick, quick.-Fling " Peregrine Pickle" under
man who would wish to wait a day for the alterna- the toilet-throw "Roderick Random" into the
tive.                                        closet-put " The Innocent Adultery" into " The
Jul. Nay, this is caprice!                 Whole Duty of Man"-thrust "Lord Aimworth"
Lyd. What, does Julia tax me with caprice   under the sofa-cram " Ovid" behind the bolster
I. thought her lover Faulkland had inured her -there-put " The Man of Feeling" into your
to it.                                       pocket.-Now for them!
Jul. I do not love even his faults.
Lyd. But a-propos! you have sent to him, I   Enter MRS. MALAPROP and SIR ANTHONY
suppose 3                                                     ABSOLUTE.
Jul. Not yet, upon my word! nor has he the   Mrs. M. There, Sir Anthony, there sits the
least idea of my being in Bath:-Sir Anthony's deliberate simpleton, who wants to disgrace her
resolution was so sudden I could not inform him  family, and lavish herself on a fellow not worth a
mf it.                                       shilling.
L.-d. Well, Julia, you are your own mistress,   Lyd. Madam, I thought you once —
though under the protection of Sir Anthony; yet    Mrs. AI. You thought, Miss! I don't know any




SCENE II.]                       THE  RIVALS.                                      349
business you have to think at all: thought does Paradoxes, or such inflammatory branches ot
not become a young woman. But the point we learning: nor would it be necessary for her to
would request of you is, that you will promise to: handle any of your mathematical, astronomical,
forget this fellow-to illiterate him, I say, from  diabolical instruments; but, Sir Anthony, I
your memory.                                 would send her, at nine years old, to a boardingLyd. Ah, Madam! our memories are indepen- school, in order to learn a little ingenuity and
dent of our wills. It is not so easy to forget.    artifice. Then, Sir, she should have a supercilillMrs.  1. But, I say, it,is, Miss! there is no- ous knowledge in accounts; and, as she grew up,
thing on earth so easy as to forget, if a person  I would have her instructed in geometry, that she
chooses to set about it. I'm sure I have as much might know something of the contagious counforgot your poor dear uncle, as if he had never' tries. This, Sir Anthony, is what I would have
existed; and I thought it my duty to do so; and a woman know; and I don't think there is a sulet me, tell you, Lydia, these violent memories perstitious article in it.
don't become a young woman.                    Sir A. Well, well, Mrs. Malaprop, I will disSir A. Why,,sure, she wont pretend to remem- pute the point no further with you; though I must
ber what she's ordered not! ay, this comes of her confess, that you are a truly moderate and polite
reading!                                     arguer, for almost every third word you say is on
Lyd. What crime, Madam, have I committed, my side of the question.-But, Mrs. Malaprop, to
to be treated thus?                         the more important point in debate,-you say you
- Mrs. M. Now don't attempt to extirpate your- have no objection to my proposal?
self from the matter; you know I have proof con-  AlIrs. M. None, I assure you.-I am under no
trovertible of it: but, tell me, will you promise to positive engagement with Mr. Acres; and as
do as you're bid? will you take a husband of your Lydia is so obstinate against him, perhaps your
friends' choosing?                          son may have better success.
Lyd. Madam, I must tell you plainly, that, had    Sir A. Well, Madam, I will write for the boy
no preference for any one else, the choice you directly. —He knows not a syllable of this yet,
nave made would be my aversion.              though I have for some time had the proposal in
Mrs. M. What business have you, Miss, with my head. He is at present with his regiment.
preference and aversion? they don't become a   Mrs. M. We have never seen your son, Sir
young woman; and you ought to know, that, as Anthony; but I hope no objection on his side.
both always wear off,'tis safest, in matrimony, to   Sir A. Objection!-let him object if he dare!
begin with a little aversion. I am sure I hated -No, no, Mrs. Malaprop: Jack knows, that the
your poor, dear uncle, before marriage, as if he'd least demur puts me in a phrenzy directly. My
been a black-a-moor; and yet, Miss, you are sensi- process was always very simple-in their younger
ble what a wife I made? and when it pleased Hea- days,'twas, " Jack do this,"-if he demurred, I
ven to release me from him,'tis unknown what knocked him down; and if he grumbled at that, I
tears I shed! But, suppose we were going to give always sent him out of the room.
you another choice, will you promise us to give up    Mrs. M. Ay, and the properest way, o'my conthis Beverley?                              science!-Nothing is so conciliating to young peoLyd. Could I belie my thoughts so far as to ple as severity.-Well, Sir Anthony, [ shall give
give that promise, my actions would certainly as Mr. Acres his discharge, and prepare Lydia to
far belie my words.                         receive your son's invocations; and I hope you
MIrs. _KI. Take yourself to your room; you are will represent her to the captain as an object not
fit company for nothing but your own ill humours. altogether illegible.
Lyd. Willingly, Ma'am; I cannot change for   Sir A. Madam, I will handle the subject pruthe worse.                           [Exit. dently. Well, I must leave you; and let me beg
Mrs. M. There's a little intricate hussy for you, Mrs. Malaprop, to enforce this matter roundyou!                                         ly to the girl-take my advice, keep a tight hand
Sir A. It is not to be wondered at, Ma'am; all -if she rejects this proposal, clap her under lock
this is the natural consequence of teaching girls and key; and if you were just to let the servants
to read. In my way hither, Mrs. Malaprop, I forget to bring her dinner for three or four days,
observed your niece's maid coming forth from a you can't conceive how she'd come about.
circulating library; she had a book in each hand                     [Exit SIR ANTHONY.
— they were half-bound volumes, with marble   Mrs. M. Well, at any rate, I shall be glad to
covers; from that moment, I guessed how full of get her from under my intuition. She has someduty I should see her nmistress!             how  discovered my partiality for Sir Lucius
Mrs. M. Those are vile places, indeed!     O'Trigger. Sure, Lucy can't have betrayed me!
Sir A. Madam, a circulating library in a town -No, the girl is such a simpleton, I should have
is, as an evergreen tree of diabolical knowledge? made her confess it.-Lucy! Lucy! [Calls.] Had
-It blossoms'through the year! and depend on it, she been one of your artificial ones, I should never
Mrs. Malaprop, that they who are so fond of have trusted her.
handling the leaves will long for the fruit at last.
Mrs. I.  Fie, fie, Sir Anthony! you surely                Enter Lucy.
speak laconically.                             Lucy. Did you call, Ma'am?
Sir A. Why, Mrs. Malaprop, in moderation,   M~rs. A.M. Yes, girl.-Did you see Sir Lucius
now, what would you have a woman know?      while you was out?
Mrs. M. Observe me, Sir Anthony-I would   Lucy. No indeed, Ma'am, not a glimpse of him.
by no means wish a daughter of mine to be a   Mrs. A.L. You are sure, Lucy, that you never
progeny of learning; I don't think so much learn- mentioneding becomes a young woman;-for instance-I   Lucy. 0 gemini! I'd sooner cut my tongue out!
whuld never let her meddle with Greek, or He-   Mrs. M. Well, don't let your simplicity be nw.
brew, or Algebra, or Simony, or Fluxions, or posed on.
30




350                              THE  RIVALS.                                  [AOC It
Lucy. No, Ma'am.                           indeed, to give the thing an air, I told Thomas,
Mrs. M. So, come to me presently, and I'll that your honour had already enlisted five disgive you another letter to Sir Lucius-but mind,. banded chairmen, seven minority waiters, and
Lucy, if ever you betray what you are intrusted thirteen billiard markers.
wlth (unless it be other people's secrets to me,)   Capt. A. You blockhead, never say more than
you forfeit my malevolence for ever: and your be- is necessary.
ing a simpleton shall be no excuse for your   Fag. I beg pardon, Sir —I beg pardon-But,
locality.                            [Exit. with submission, a lie is nothing unless one supLucy. Ha,  ha!ha! So, my dear simplicity, let ports it.-Sir, whenever I draw on my invention
me give you a little respite; [Altering her man- for a- good current lie, I always forge indorsements
ner.] let girls, in my station, be as fond as they as well as the bill.
please of being expert and knowing in their trusts,  Capt. A. Well, take care you don't hurt your
commend me to a mask of silliness, and a pair of credit by offering too much security. Is Mr.
sharp eyes for my own interest under it!-Let me Faulkland returned?
see to what account have I turned my simplicity: Fag. He is above, Sir, changing his dress,
lately; [Looks at a paper.] For abetting Mliss - Capt. A. Can you tell whether he has been inLydia Languish in a design of running away' formed of Sir Anthony's and Miss Melville's arwith an ensign! in money, sundry times, twelve rival.  
pound twelve-gowns, five; hats, ruffles, caps,   Fag. I fancy not, Sir; he has seen no one
4pc. d4c. numberless.-From  the said ensign, since he came in, but his- gentleman, who was
within this last month, six guineas and a half. with him at. Bristol. —I think, Sir, I hear Mr.
-About a quarter's pay -Item, from  Mrs. Faulkland coming down —
M1[alaprop, for betraying the. young people to her   Capt. A. Go, tell him I am here..
-when I found matters were likely to be dis-   Fag. Yes, Sir-f-Going.] I beg pardon, Sir,
covered,-two guineas and a black paduasoy.-  but should Sir Anthony call, you will do me the
Item, from Mir. Acres, for carrying divers letters favour to remember that we are recruiting, if you
-which I never delivered-two guineas and a please.
pair of buckles. —Item, from Sir Lucius O' Trig-   Capt. A. Well, well.
ger, three crowns, two gold pocket-pieces, and a   Fag. And in tenderness to my character, if
silver snuff-box!-Well done, simplicity! yet I your honour could bring in the chairmen and
was forced to make my Hibernian believe, that he waiters, I shall esteem it as an obligation; —for,
was corresponding, not with the aunt, but with  though I never scruple a lie to serve my master,
the niece; for, though not over rich, I found he yet it hurts one's conscience to be found out.
had too much pride and delicacy to sacrifice the                                   [Exit..feelings of a gentleman to the necessities of his   Capt. A. Now for my whimsical friend:-If
fortune.                             [Exit. he does not know that his mistress is here, I'll
ACT II.                    tease him a little before I tell himEnter FAG.
SCENE  I-CAPTAIN ABSOLU1'E'S Lodgings.                             FAG
CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE and FAG.              Fag. Mr. Faulkland, Sir.            [Exit.
Fag. Sir, while I was there, Sir Anthonycame            Enter FAULKLAND.
in; I told him you had sent me to inquire after his   Capt. A. Faulkland, you're welcome to Bath
health, and to know if he was at leisure to see you. again: you are punctual in your return.
Capt. A. And what did he say, on hearing I   Faulk. Yes; I had nothing to detain me, when
was at Bath..              I had finished the business I went on. Well,
Fag. Sir, in my life, I never saw an elderly what news since I left you'. how' stand matters
gentleman more astonished!                   between you and Lydia'
Capt. A. Well, Sir, and what did you say?   Capt. A.'Faith, much as they were.
Fag. 0, I lied, Sir-I forget the precise lie,   Faulk. Nay, then you trifle too long-if you
but, you may depend on't, he got no truth from  are sure of her, propose to the aunt, in your own:
me.-Yet, with submission, for fear of blunders in character, and write to, Sir Anthony for his con,
future, I should be glad to fix what has brought sent.
us to Bath, in order that we may lie a little con-   Capt. A. Softly, softly, for though I am consistently. —Sir Anthony's servants were curious, vinced my little Lydia would elope with me as
Sir, very curious indeed.                   Ensign Beverley, yet am I by no means certain.
Capt. A. You have said nothing to them %-    that she would take me with the impediment of
Fag. Oh, not a word, Sir, not a word; Mr. our friends' consent, a regular humdrum wedding,
Thomas, indeed, the coachman (whom' I take to and the reversion of a good fortune on my side.be the discreetest of whips)-               Well, but Faulkland, you'll dine with us to-day
Capt. A.'Sdeath!-you rascal! you have not at the hotel?
trusted him?                                   Faullk. Indeed, I cannot; I am not in spirits to
Fag. Oh, no, Sir-no-no-not a syllable, be of such a party.
upon my veracity!-He was, indeed, a little in-   Capt. A. By heavens! I shall forswear your
quisitive; but I was sly, Sir-devilish sly -My  company. You are the most teasing, captious,
master (said I) honest Thomas (you know, Sir, incorrigible lover!-Do love like a man.
one says honest to one's inferiors) is come to Bath   Faulk. Ah! Jack. your heart and soul are not,
to recruit —yes, Sir-I said to' recruit-and whe- like mine, fixed immutably on one only object. —
ther for men, money, or constitution, you know, You throw for a large stake, but losing, you could
Sir, is nothing to him, nor any one else.    stake and throw again; but I have set my sum of
Capt. A. Well-recruit will do —let it be so-  happiness on this cast, and not to succeed were
Pag. Oh; Sir, recruit will do surprisingly;-  to be stripped of all.




ACENE I.]                        THE  RIVALS.                                      351
Capt. A. But, for heaven's sake, what grounds   Faulk. Indeed!-I did hear that she had been
for apprehension can your whimsical brain con- a little indisposed.
jare up at present!  Acres. False, false, Sir-only said to vex you:
Faulk. What grounds for apprehension, did quite the reverse, I assure you.
you say' Heavens! are there not a thousand! I   Faulk. There Jack, you see she has the advanfear for her spirits-her health-her life-O! tage of me; I had almost fretted myself ill.
Jack, when ddlicate and feeling souls are separat-   Capt. A. Now you are angry with your mised, there is not a feature in the sky, not a move- tress ibr not having been sick!
ment in:the elements, not an aspiration of the   Faulkc. No, no, you misunderstand me: —yet
breeze, but hints some cause for a lover's appre- surely a little trifling indisposition is not an unhension!                                    natural consequence of absence from those we
Capt. A. Ay, but we may choose whether we love.-Now  confess-is'nt there something unwill take the hint or not.-So then, Faulkland, if kind in this violent, robust, unfeeling health' 
youi were convinced that Julia were well, and in...-:Capt. A. Oh, it was very unkind of her to be
spirits, you would be entirely content 2     well in your absence, to be sure!
Faulk. I should be happy beyond measure-I   -Acres. Good apartments, Jack.
am anxious only for that.                      Faulk. Well, Sir, but you was saying that
Capt. A. Then -cure your anxiety at once- Miss Melville has been so exceedingly wellMiss Melville is in perfect health, and is at this: what then, she has been merry and gay, I supmoment in Bath.                              pose?-always in spirits, hey?
Faulk. Nay, Jack-don't trifle with me..: Acres..- Merry! odds crickets! she has been the
Capt. A. She is arrived here with my father, bell and spirit of the company wherever she has
within this hour.                            been-so lively and entertaining! so full, of wit
Paulk. Can you be serious.    and humour!
Capt. A. I thought you knew Sir Anthony   Faulk. By my soul! there is an innate levity
better than to be surprised at a sudden whim of in woman that nothing can overcome!-What!
this kind. —Seriously then, it is as I tell you-  happy, and I away!'upon my honour.                               Capt. A. Just now, you were only apprehenFaulk. My dear Jack-now nothing on earth sive for your mistress' spirits.
can give me a moment's uneasiness.             Faulk. Why, Jack, have I been the joy and
Enter FAG.                  spirit of the company'
Capt. A. No, indeed, you have not.
Fag. Sir, Mr. Acres, just arrived, is below.  Faulk. Have I been lively and entertaining
Capt. A. Stay, Faulkland, this Acres lives   Capt. A. Oh, upon my word, I acquit you.
within a mile of Sir Anthony, and he shall tell   Faulk. Have I been full of wit and humour'
you how your mistress has been ever since you    Capt. A. No,'faith, to do you justice, you have
left her.-Fag, show the gentleman up.        been confoundedly stupid, indeed.
[Exit FAG.   Acres. What's the matter with the gentleFaulk. What, is he much acquainted in the man 2
family'                                       Capt. A. He is only expressing his great satisCapt. A. Oh, very intimate: he is likewise a faction at hearing that Julia has been so well and
rival of mine-that is, of my other self's, for he happy-that's all-hey, Faulkland?
does not think his fiiend, Captain Absolute, ever - Faulk. Yes, yes, she has a happy disposition!
saw the lady in question;-and it is ridiculous   Acres. That she has, indeed-then she is so
enough to hear him complain to me of one Bever- accomplished-so sweet a voice-so expert at her
ley, a concealed, skulking rival, who-       harpsichord-such a mistress of flat and sharp,
Faulk. Hush! He's here!                    squallante, rumblante, and  quiverante!-there
was this time month-odds minums and crotchEnter AcRES.
ets! how she did chirrup at Mrs. Piano's conAcres. Hah! my'dear friend, noblecaptain, and cert! [Sings.] My heart's my own, my will is
honest- Jack, how dost thou? just arrived,'faith, free. That's very like her.
as you see.-Sir, your humble servant. Warm    Faulk. Fool! fool that I am! to fix all my
work on the -roads, Jack-odds whips and wheels! happiness on such a trifler!'Sdeath! to make
I've travelled like a comet, with a tail of dust all herself the pipe and ballad-monger of a circle! to
the way, as long as the Mall.               soothe her light heart with catches and glees!Capt. A. Ah! Bob, you are indeed an eccentric What can you say to this, Sir'
planet, but we know your attraction hither-give    Capt. A. Why, that I should be glad to hear
me leave to introduce Mr. Faulkland to you; my mistress had been so merry, Sir.
Mr. Faulkland, Mr. Acres.                     FPaulk. Nay, nay, nay-I'm not sorry that she
Acres. Sir, I am most heartily glad to see you: has been happy-no, no, I am glad of that-but
Sir, I solicit your connexions. —Hey, Jack —what, she has been dancing too, I doubt not!
this is Mr.: Faulkland, who-                   Acres. What: does the gentleman say about
Capt. A. Ay, Bob, Miss Melville's Mr. Faulk- dancing'
land.                                          Capt. A. He says the lady we speak of dances
Acres. Ah! Mr. Faulkland, you are indeed a as well as she sings.
happy man!                                    Acres. Ay, truly does she-there was at our
Faulk. I have not seen Miss Melville yet, Sir. last race ball-I hope she enjoyed full health and spirits in   Faulk. Hell and the devil! There! there —
Devonshire?                                 told you so! I told you so! oh! she thrives in my
Acreas. Never knew her better in my life, Sir-  absence!-Dancing! 
never better.-Odds blushes and blooms! she has   Capt. A. For Heaven's sake, Faulkland, don't
been as healthy as the German spa.           expose yourself so!-Suppose  ine has dancel,




~8~J52                           THE  RIVALS.                                   [ACT 1.
what then?-does not the ceremony of society observe you have got an odd kind of a new method
often oblige-                                of swearingFaulk. Well, well, I'll contain myself-per-   Acres. Ha, ha! you've taken notice of it-'tis
haps, as you say-for form sake.-I say, Mr.-  genteel, isn't it' —I didn't invent it myself though;
Mr.-What's his damned name?                 but a commander in our militia, a great scholir, I
Capt. A. Acres, Acres.                    assure you, says that there is no meaning in the
Faulk. 0 ay, Mr. Acres, you were praising common oaths, and that nothing but their anMiss Melville's manner of dancing a minuet-  tiquity makes them respectable; because, he says,
hey'I                                      the ancients would never stick to an oath or two,
Acres. Oh, I dare insure her for that-but what but would say, by Jove! or by Bacchus! or by
I was going to speak of, was her country dancing: Mars! or by Venus! or by Pallas! according to
— odds swimmings! she has such an air with  the sentiment;-so that to swear with propriety
her!-                                       says my little major, the "oath should be an echo
Faulk. Now, disappointment on her!-defend  to the sense:" and this we call the oath referential,
this, Absolute! why don't you defend this.-coun- or sentimental swearing-ha, ha, ha!'tis genteel,
try dances! jigs and reels! am I to blame now. a isn't it?
minuet I could have forgiven-I should not have    Capt. A. Very genteel, and very new indeedminded that-1 say, 1 should not have regarded a and I dare say will supplant all other figures of
minuet-but country dances! Zounds! had she imprecation.
made one in a cotillion-I believe I could have for-   Acres. Ay, ay, the best terms will grow obsolete
given even that-but to be monkey-led for a night! -Dammes have had their day.
-to run the gauntlet through a string of amorous,            Enter FAG.
palming puppies!-to show paces, like a managed
filly!-Oh, Jack, there never can be but one man    Fag. Sir, there is a gentleman below desires
in the world whom a truly modest and delicate to see you-Shall I show him into the parlour?
woman ought to pair with in a country dance;   Capt. A. Ay-you may.
Acres. Well, I must be gone
and, even then, the rest of the couples should be    Capt. Well, I must be goneher great uncles and aunts!                   Capt. A. Stay; who is it, Fag?
her great uncles and aunts!                    Fag. Your father, Sir.
Capt. A. Ay, to be sure, grandfathers and    Fag. Your father, Sir.
grnt. A. Ay, to be sure, grandfathers and    Capt. A. You puppy, why didn't you show
grandmothers!                                himupdirectl                      Exi F.o.
Faulk. If there be but one vicious mind in the  him  up directly?           [Exit FAG.
set, it will spread like a contagion-the action of   Acres. You have business wlth Sir Anthony.
their pulse beats to the lascivious movement of I expect a message from Mrs. Malaprop at my
the jig-their quivering, warm-breathed sighs im- lodgings. I have sent also to my dear friend, Sir
pregnate the air-the atmosphere becomes electri- c   OTrigger. Adieu, Jack, we must meet
cal to love, and each amorous spark darts through  at night, when you shall give me a dozen bumpers
every link of the chain!-I must leave you-I own to little Lydia.
I am somewhat flurried-and that confounded    Capt. A. That I will, with all my heart. [Exit
looby has perceived it.             [ Going.  AcREs.] Now for a parental lecture-I hope he
Capt. A. Nay, but stay, Faulkland, and thank has heard nothing of the business that has brought
Mr. Acres for his good news.                 me here; I wish the gout had held him fast in.
Faulk. Damn his news.              [Exit. Devonshire, with all my soul!
Capt. A. Ha, ha, ha! poor Faulkland! five             Enter SIR ANTHONY.
minutes since —" nothing on earth could give him  Sir, I am delighted to see you here, and looking
a moment's uneasiness!"                      so well! your sudden arrival at Bath made me
Acres. The gentleman wasn't angry at my apprehensive for your health.
praising his mistress, was he?                Sir A. Very apprehensive, I dare say, Jack.
Capt. A. A little jealous, I believe, Bob.  What, you are recruiting here, hey?
Acres. You don't say so! ha, ha! jealous of    Capt. A. Yes, Sir, I am on duty.
me!-that's a good joke!                      Sir A. Well, Jack, I am glad to see you, though
Capt. A. There's nothing strange in that, I did not expect it! for I was going to write to
Bob; let me tell you, that sprightly grace and in- you on a little matter of business. Jack, I have
sinuating manner of yours will do some mischief been considering that I grow old and infirm, and
among the girls here.                       shall probably not trouble you long.
Acres. Ah! you joke-ha, ha! mischief-ha,   Capt. A. Pardon me, Sir, I never saw you look
ha! but you know I am not my own property! more strong and hearty, and I pray fervently that
my dear Lydia has forestalled me.-She could you may continue so.
never abide me in the country, because 1 used to   Sir A. I hope your prayers may be heard, with
dress so badly-but, odds frogs and tambours! I all my heart. Well then, Jack, I have been consha'n't take matters so here-now ancient Madam  sidering that 1 am so strong and hearty, I may
has no voice in it-I'll make my old clothes know  continue to plague you a long time. Now, Jack,
who's master-I shall straightway cashier the I am sensible that the income of your commission,
hunting-frock, and render my leather breeches in- and what I have hitherto allowed you, is but a
capable-My hair has been in training some time. small pittance for a lad of your spirit.
Capt. A. Indeed!                            Capt. A. Sir, you are very good.
Acres.  Ay-and thoff the side curls are a little    Sir A. And it is my wish, while yet I live, to
restive, my hind part takes it very kindly.  have my boy make some figure in the world. I
Capt. A. (a1, you'll polish, I doubt not.  have resolved, therefore, to fix you at once in a
Acres. Absolutely I propose so-then, if I can noble independence.
find out this ensign Beverley, odds triggers and    Capt. A. Sir, your kindness overpowers me
fints I I'll make him know the difference o't.  Yet, Sir, I presume you would not wish me to
Capt. A. Spoke like a man-but, pray, Bob, I quit the army?




SCENE II.                        THE  RIVALES.                                    3
Sir A. Oh! that shall be as your wife chooses.   Capt. A. Nay, Sir, upon my woruCapt. A. My wife, Sir!                       Sir A. So you will fly out! can't you be coo,
Sir A. Ay, ay, settle that between you, settle like me  what the devil good can passion'od.
that between you.                            passion is of no service, you impudent, insolent,
Capt. A. A wife, Sir, did you say?       overbearing reprobate! there, you sneer again!
Sir A. Ay, a wife: why, did not I mention her don't provoke me! but you rely upon the mildness
before.                                     of my temper, you do, you dog! you play upon the
Capt. A. Not a word of her, Sir.          meekness of my disposition! yet, take care; the
Sir A. Odd so; I mustn't forget her, though. patience of a saint may be overcome at last! but
Yes, Jack, the independence I was talking of is by mark! I give you six hours and a half to consider
a marriage; the fortune is saddled with a wife: of this: if you then agree, without any condition,
but I suppose that makes no difference?     to do every thing on earth that I choose, whyCapt. A. Sir, Sir! you amaze me!        confound you! I may in time forgive you. If not,
Sir A. Why, what the devil's the matter with  zounds! don't enter the same hemisphere with
the fool? just now you were all gratitude and duty. me! don't dare to breathe the same air, or use the
Capt. A. I was, Sir: you talked to me of inde- same light with me; but get an atmosphere and a
pendence and a fortune, but not a word of a wife. sun of your. own: I'll strip you of your commisSir A. Why, what difference does that make? sion: I'll lodge a five-and-threepence in the hands
Odds life, Sir! if you have the estate, you must of trustees, and you shall live on the interest. I'll
take it with the live stock on it, as it stands.  disown you, I'll disinherit you, I'll unget you! and
Capt. A. Pray, Sir, who is the lady?      damn me! if ever I call you Jack again!  [Exit.
Sir A. What's that to you, Sir? come, give me    Capt. A. Mild, gentle, considerate father! I
vour promise to love, and to marry her directly.   kiss your hands.
Capt. A. Sure, Sir, that is not very reasonable,           Enter FAG.
to summon my affections for a lady I know no-   Fag. Assuredly, Sir, your father is wrath to a
thing of!                                      Fag. Assuredly, Sir, your father is wrath to a
bing ofA'T*  1                           *degree; he comes down stairs eight or ten steps at
Sir A. I am sure, Sir,'tis more unreasonable in a time-muttering, growling, and thumpin 
youto object to a lady you know nothing of.    ia me-muttering, growling, and thumping the
you to object to a lady you know nothing of  bannisters all the way; I, and the cook'
y ou,                     as In1 bannisters all the way; I, and the cook's dog,
~ Capt. A. You must excuse me, Sir, if l tell you, stand bowing at the door; rap, he gives me a
once for all, that in this point 1 cannot obey you. stroke on the head with his cane; bids me carry
Sir A.  larXkye, Jack;-I have heard you for that to my master: then, kicking the poor turnsome time with patience-I have been cool,-quite  spit into the area, damns us all for a puppy triumcool; but take care; you know I am compliance virate! upon my credit, Sir, were I in your place,
itself, when I am not thwarted; no one more and found my father such bad coman, I should
easily led, when I have my own way; but don't c      ertainly drop his a cquaintance.
put me in a frenzy.
Capt. me Sir, I mustz.    repeat it; in this, cannot Capt. A. Cease your impertinence, Sir; did you
Capt. A. Sir, I must repeat it; in this I cannot come in for nothing more —Stand  out of the
come in for nothing more?-Stand out of the
obey you.                                    wPushes him aside and exit
Sir A. Now, damn me, if ever I call you Jack way.
again while I live'                                          FAG, solus.
Capt. A. Nay, Sir, but hear me.             So! Sir Anthony trims my master; he is afraid
Sir A. Sir, I wont hear a word, not a word! to reply to his father, and vents his spleen on poor
not one word! so give me your promise by a nod, Fag! when one is vexed by one person, to revenge
and I'll tell you what, Jack-I mean, you dog-  one's self on another who happens to come in the
if you don't, by —                           way, shows the worst of tempers, theCapt. A. What, Sir, promise to link myself to          Enter ERRAND BOY.
some mass of ugliness; toSir A. Zounds! sirrah! the lady shall be as   Boy. Mr. Fag, Mr. Fag! your master calls you.
ugly as I choose: she shall have a hump on each   Fag. Well, you little dirty puppy, you needn't
shoulder; she shall be as crooked as the crescent; bawl so;-the meanest disposition, theher one eye shall roll like the bull's in Cox's   Boy. Quick! quick, Mr. Fag.
museum; she shall have a skin like a mummy, and   Fag. Quick, quick! you impudent jackanapes 
the beard of a Jew-She shall be all this, sirrah! am I to be commanded by you too, you little, imyet I'll make you ogle her all day, and sit up all pertinent, insolent, kitchen bred
night, to write sonnets on her beauty.                                     [Kicks him oqf
Capt. A. This is reason and moderation, in-     SCENE II.-The North Parade.
deed!                                                      Enter Lucy..Sir A. None of your sneering, puppy! no   Lucy. So, I shall have another rival to add to
grinning, jackanapes!                        my mistress' list; Captain Absolute:-however, I
-Capt. rA. Indeed, Sir, I never was in a worse shall not enter his name till my purse has received
humour for mirth in my life.                 due notice in form. Sir Lucius is generally more
Sir A.'Tis false, Sir; I know you are laugh- punctual, when he expects to hear from his dear
ing in your sleeve; I know you'll grin when I am  Delia, as he calls her: I wonder he's not here!gone, sirrah!
Capt. A. Sir, I hope I know my duty better:       Enter SIR LUCIUS O'TaIGooR.
Sir A. None of your passion, Sir! none of   Sir L. Hah! my little ambassadress! upon my
your violence, if you please; it wont do with me, conscience 1 have been looking for you; I have
I promise you.                               been on the South parade this half hour.
Capt. A. Indeed, Sir, Ineverwascoolerinmylife.   Lucy. [Speaking simply.] 0 gemini! and I
Sir A.'Tis a confounded lie! I know you are have been waiting for your worship here on the
in a passion in your heart; I know you are, you North.
hypocritical young dog; but it wont do.        Sir L.'Faith i may be that was the reason we
Volr. I... 2 Y    30*




354                             THE  RIVALS.                                  LACT ll.
did not meet; and it is very comical too, how you    Sir L. 0 faith, I'll quiet your conscience!
could go out, and I not see you, for I was only          [Sees FAG; exit, humming a tune.
taking a nap at the Parade Coffee-house, and                 Enter FAG.
chose the window, on purpose that I might not
-  ~~~~~miss you.~Fag.   So, so, Ma'am. I humbly beg pardon.
Lucy. My stars! now I'd wager a sixpence I  Lucy.  O lud -now, Mr. Fayou flurryone
went by while you were asleep.               so
Sir L. Sure enough it must have been so; and Fag. Come, come, Lucy, here's no one byI never dream'd it was so late, till I waked. WVellso a little less simplicity with a grain or two more
but my little girl, have you got nothing for me 2   sincerity, if you please-You play false with us,
Lucy. Yes but I have; I've got a letter for you Madam-I saw you give the baronet a letter.in my pocket.                                My master shall know this-and if he don't call
Sir L. I'faith! I guessed you weren't come
empty-handed; well, let me see what the dear   Lucy. Ha, ha, ha! you gentlemen's gentlemen
creature says.                              are so hasty!-That letter was from Mrs. MalaLoucy. There, Sir Lucius.     him aletter prop, simpleton.-She is taken with Sir Lucius'
address.
[Gives him a letter.
Sir L. [Reads.] Sir- There is often a sudden    Fag. How! what tastes some people have 
incentive impulse in love, that. has a greater in- Why, I suppose I have walked by her winow a
duction than years of domestic combination: such hundred times.-But what says our young lady 
was the commotion Ifelt at the first superfluous -any message to my master?
view of Sir Lucius O' Trigger.  Very pretty   Lucy. Sadnews, Mr. Fag  A worse rival than
upon my word!  Female punctuation forbids me Acres! Sir Anthony Absolute has proposed his
to say more; yet let me add, that it will give me son.
joy infallible to find Sir Lucius worthy the last   Fag. What, Captain Absolute?
criterion of my ajffections.  Yours. while mere-   Lucy. Even so. Ioverhearditall.
tricious.                         DELIA.       Fag. Ha, ha, ha! very good,'faith! Good bye,
Lucy, I must away with this news.
Upon my conscience, Lucy, your lady is a great   Lucy. Well you may laugh, but it is true, I,mistress of language!'faith, she's quite the queen assure you. [Going.] But, Mr. Fag, tell your
of the dictionary!                           master not to be cast down by this.
Lucy. Ay, Sir, a lady of her experience.     Fag. Oh, he'll be so disconsolate!
S'ir L. Experience! what, at seventeen?  Lucy. And charge him not to think of quarLucy. 0, true, Sir; but then she reads so, my relling with young Absolute.
stars! how she will read off hand  Fag. N ever fear-bnever fear.
Sir L.'Faith, she must be very deep read, to   Lucy. Be sure bid him keep up his spirits.
write this way; though she is rather an arbitrary   Fag. Wewill-we will.  [Exeunt severally
writer, too-for here are a great many poor words             ACT III.
pressed into the service of this note, that would        E     The orth Parade.
et their habeas corpus from any court in Christendom. However, when affection guides the pen,          Enter CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE.
he must be a brute who finds fault with the style.   Capt. A.'Tis just as Fag told me, indeed!Lucy. Ah, Sir Lucius, if you were to hear how  Whimsical enough,'faith! My father wants to
she talks of you!                         Iforce me to marry the very girl I am plotting to
Sir L. Oh, tell her, I'll make her the best hus- run away with! He must not know of my conband in the world, and Lady O'Trigger into the nexion with her yet awhile. He has too summary
bargain! but we must get the old gentlewoman's a method of proceeding in these matters; however
consent, and do every thing fairly.         I'll read my recantation instantly. My conver
Lucy. Nay, Sir Lucius, I thought you wa'n't sion is something sudden, indeed; but, I can asrich enough to be so nice!                  sure him, it is very sincere-So, so, here he comes
Sir L. Upon my word, young woman, you -he looks plaguy gruff!             [Steps aside
have hit it: I am so poor, that I can't afford to do
a dirty action. If I did not want money, I'd steal
your mistress and her fortune with a great deal   Sir A. No-I'll die sooner than forgive him I
of pleasure. However, my pretty girl, [ Gives her Die, did I say? I'll live these fifty years to plague
money.] here's a little something to buy you a him. At our last meeting, his impudence had alriband; and meet me in the evening, and I will most put me out of temper-An obstinate, pasgive you an answer to this. So, hussy, take a sionate, self-willed boy! Who can he take after?
kiss beforehand, to put you in mind. [Kisses her  This is my return for getting him before all his
Lucy. 0 lud! Sir Lucius —I never seed such a brothers and sisters! for putting him, at twelve
gemman! my lady wont like you, if you're so im- years old, into a marching regiment, and allowing
pudent.him fifty pounds a year, besides his pay, ever
Sir L.'Faith she will, Lucy; that same-pho; since! But I have done with him-he's any
what's the name of it; modesty! is a quality in a body's son for me-I never will see him morelover more praised by the women than liked; so, never-never-never-never.
if your mistress asks you whether Sir Lucius ever   Capt. A. Now for a penitential face! [Aside.
gave you a kiss, tell her fifty, my dear.      Sir A. Fellow, get out of my way!
Lucy. What, would you have me tell her a lie?    Capt. A. Sir, you see a penitent before you.
Sir L. Ah then, you bag'a ge! I'll make it a   Sir A. I see an impudent scoundrel before me.
truth presently.                               Capt. A. A sincere penitent. I am-come, Sir,
Lucy. For shame now; here is some one corn- to acknowledge my error, and to submit entirely
ng.                                         to your will.




SCENE UI.]                        THE  RIVALS.                                      355
Sir A. What's that?                         graces of that kind-now, without being very
Capt. A. I have been revolving, and reflecting, nice, I own I should rather choose a wife of mine
and considering on your past goodness, and kind- to have the usual number of limbs, and a limited
ness, and condescension to me.                quantity of back: and, though one eye may be
Sir A. Well, Sir?                         very agreeable, yet, as the prejudice  has always
Capt. A., I have been likewise weighing and  run in favour of two, I would not wish to affect a
balancing, what you were pleased to mention con- singularity in that article.
cerning duty, and obedience, and authority.     Sir A. What a phlegmatic sot it is! Why,
Sir A. Well, puppy.?                       sirrah, you are an anchorite! A vile, insensible
Capt. A. Why, then, Sir, the result of my re- stock! You a soldier! you're a walking block, fit
flections is, a resolution to sacrifice every inclina- only to dust the company's regimentals on! Odds
tion of my own to your satisfaction.          life, I've a great- mind -to marry the girl myself!
Sit A. Why, now  you talk sense, absolute    Capt. A. I am entirely at your disposal, Sir; if
sense; I never heard any thing more sensible in  you should think of addressing Miss Languish
my life. Confound you! you shall be Jack again. yourself, I suppose vou would have me marry the
Capt. A. I am happy in the appellation.    aunt; or, if you should change your mind, and
Sir A. Why then, Jack, my dear Jack, I will take the old lady, —'tis the same to-me, I'll marry
now-inform you who the lady really is. Nothing  the niece.
but your passion and violence, you silly fellow,   Sir A. Upon my word, Jack, thou'rt either a
prevented me telling you at first. Prepare, Jack, very great hypocrite, or —but, come, I know your
for wonder and rapture-prepare! What think indifference on such a subject must be all a lie,
you of Miss Lydia Languish                    I'm sure it must-come, now, damn your demure
Capt. A. Languish! What, the Languishes of face, come, confess, Jack, you have been lyingWorcestershire?                               ha'n't you? You have been playing the hypocrite,
Sir A. Worcestershire! no. Did you never hey?-I'll never forgive you, if you ha'h't been
meet Mrs. Malaprop, and her niece, Miss Lan- lying and playing the hypocrite.
guish, who came into our country just before you    Capt. A. I'm  sorry, Sir, that the respect and
were last ordered to your regiment?  -  duty which I bear to you should be so mistaken.
Capt. A. Malaprop! Languish! I don't remem-   Sir A. Hang your respect and duty! But come
ber ever to have heard the names before. Yet, along with me, I'll write a note to Mrs. Malaprop,
stay, I think I do recollect something-Languish  and you shall visit the lady directly. Her eyes
-Languish-She squints, don't she?-A  little shall be the Promethean torch to you —come along,
red-haired girl?                             I'll never forgive you, if you don't come back, stark
Sir A. Squints!-A  red-haired girl! Zounds, mad with rapture and impatience-if you don't,
no!'egad, I'll marry the girl myself.  [Exeunt.
Capt. A. Then I must have forgot; it ca'n't be
the same person.                                  SCENVE I. —JULIA'S  Dressing Room.
Sir A. Jack,'Jack! whatthink you of -bloom-            Enter FAULKLAND.
ing, love-breathing seventeen?
Finaulk. Theytold me Julia would return diCapt. A. As to that, Sir, I am quite indifferent; reFl     Te t e  i     wo     r n drectly: I' wonder she is not yet. come!flow
if I can please you in the matter,'tis all I desire.captious, unsatised temper of
Xir AD. Nay, but Jack, such e~es! sucheyes,   mean does this captious, unsatisfied temper of
innocently ild, so bashfully          irsouchey, 50i amine appear to my cooler judgment! What teninnocently wild, so bashfully irresolute, not a der, honest joy sparkled in her eyes when we
glance but speaks and kindles some thought of der, honest -H ow  delicate was the warmth of her exlove! Then Jack,.her cheeks! her cheeks, Jack t
love! Then Jack, her cheeks! her cheeks, Jack  pressions!-I was ashamed to appear less happy,
so deeply blushing at the insinuations of her tellthough I had come resolved to wear a face of cool
tale eyes! Then, Jack, her lips! 0, Jack, lips, ness and upbraiding.  Sir Anthony's presence
smiling at- their own discretion! and, if not smil- n   my proposed expostulation: yet I must
ing, more sweetly pouting —more lovely in sullen-prevente
nessm! Then Jack, her uneck!    0, Jack,- Jack!    be satisfied that she has not been so very happy
hes~s: Then:jack, her n'eck' O, Jack. Jack i' in my  absence.  She is coming-Yes, l know the
Capt. A. And which is to be mine, Sir, the nimblenes   f her treid cwin  Yes, know the
nimbleness of her tread, when she thinks her imScr A. W-hy, you unfeeling, insensible puppy. patient Faulkland counts the moments of her stay.
Sir A. Why, you unfeeling, insensible -upPy,
I despise you. When I was of your age,- such a                Enter JULIA.
description woul -have made me fly like a rocket.   Jul. I had not hoped to see you again so soon.
The aunt, indeed! Odds life! when 1 ran away    Faulk. Could I, Julia, be contented with my
with your mother,:l would not have touched any first welcome, restrained as we were, by the prething old or ugly, to gain an empire.        sence of a' third person  
Capt. A. Not to please your father, Sir?    Jul. Oh, Faulkland! when your kindness can
Sir A. To please my father-Zounds! not to make me thus happy, let me not think that I displease-O, my father-Oddso! —Yes, yes; if my covered something of coldness in your first salutafather, indeed, had desired-that's quite another tion.
matter -Though he wasn't the indulgent fa-   Faulk.'Twas but your fancy, Julia. I was
ther that I am, Jack.                         rejoiced to see you-to see you in such health:
Capt. A. I dare say not, Sir.               Sure I had no cause for coldness?
Sir A. But, Jack, you are not sorry to find    Jul. Nay, then, I see you have taken something
your mistress is so beautiful!               ill: You must not conceal from me what it is
Capt. A. Sir, I repeat it, if I please you in this   Faulk. Well, then, shall I own to you, tnat
affair,'tis all I desire. Not that I think a woman my joy at hearing of your health and arrival here1
the worse for being handsome; but, Sir, if you by your neighbour Acres, was somewhat damped,
please to recollect, you before -hinted something by his dwelling much on the high spirits vou had
about a hump or two, one eye, and a few more enjoyed in Devonshire; on your m'irth —you sing




356                               THE  R I VALS.                               LAOT IIL
ing-dancing-and I know not what! For such Julia! when love receives such countenance from
is my temper, Julia, that I should regard every prudence, nice minds will be suspicious of its birth.
mirthful moment, in your absence, as a treason to   Jul. I know  not whither your insinuations
constancy. The mutual tear, that steals down would tend; but, as they seem pressing to insult
the cheek of parting lovers, is a compact, that no me, I will spare you the regret of having done so
smile shall live there till they meet again.  -I have given you no cause for this!
Jul. Must I never cease to tax my Faulkland                               [Exit in tears.
with this teazing, minute caprice? Can the idle   Faulk. In tears? stay, Julia-stay but for a
reports of a silly boor weigh, in your breast, against moment-The door is fastened!-Julia, my soul!
my tried affection                            but for one moment!-I hear her sobbing!'Sdeath!
Flaulk. They have no weight with me, Julia: what a brute am I to use her thus!-Yet stayNo, no, I am happy, if you have been so-yet only Ay, she is coming now: how little resolution there
say that you did not sing with mirth,-say that is in woman! how a few soft words can turn them!
you thought of Faulkland in the dance.       -No, zounds! she's not coming, nor don't intend
Jul. I never can be happy in your absence. If it, I suppose! This is not steadiness, but obstinacy I
I wear a countenance of content, it is to show that Yet I deserve it. What, after so long an absence,
my mind holds no doubt of my Faulkland's truth. to quarrel with her tenderness!'twas barbarous
Believe me, Faulkland, I mean not to upbraid you, and unmanly!-I should be ashamed to see her
when 1 say, that I have often dressed sorrow in now.-I'll wait till her just resentment is abated,
smiles, lest my friends should guess whose un- and when I distress her so again, may I lose her
kindness had caused my tears.                for ever!                              [Exit.
F.aulk. You were ever all goodness to me! Oh,    CENE 11.-MR.  MLAPROP'S Logings.
I am a brute, when I but.admit a doubt of your   SCENE III.-MRS. MALAPROP   Lodgings.
true constancy!                              MRS. MALAPROP, with a letter in her hand, and
Jul. If ever, without such cause from you as I          CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE.
will not suppose possible, you find my affections   MIrs..1. Your being Sir Anthony's son, capveering but a point, may I become a proverbial tain, would itself be a sufficient accommodation;
scoff for levity and base ingratitude!      but, from the ingenuity of your appearance, I am
Faulk. Ah, Julia! that last word is grating to convinced you deserve the character here given
me! i would I had no title to your gratitude! of you.
Search your heart, Julia: perhaps what you have    Capt. A. Permit me to say, Madam, that, as I
mistaken for love, is but the warm effusion of a never yet have had the pleasure of seeing Miss
too thankful heart!                           Languish, my principal inducement in this affair,
Jul. For what quality must I love you?    at present, is the honour of being allied to Mrs.
Faulk. For no quality: To regard me for any Malaprop, of whose intellectual accomplishments,
quality of mind or understanding were only to elegant manners, and unaffected learning, nc
esteem me! And for person-I have often wish- tongue is silent.
ed myself deformed, to be convinced that I owed    Mrs. 1V. Sir, you do me infinite honour! I beg,
no obligation there for any part of your affection. captain, you'll be seated. [Sits.] Ah! few gentleJul. Where nature has bestowed a show of men, now-a-days, know how to value the ineffecnice attention in the features of a man, he'should tual qualities in a woman! few think how a little
laugh at it as misplaced. I have seen men, who knowledge becomes a gentlewoman! Men have
in this vain article, perhaps, might rank above no sense now but for the worthless flower of
you; but my heart has never asked my eyes if it beauty!
were so or not.                                 Capt. A. It is but too true, indeed, Ma'am;
F-aulk. Now, this is not well from you, Julia: yet I fear our ladies should share the blame; they
I despise person in a man, yet, if you loved me as think our admiration of beauty so great, that
I wish, though I were an iEthiop, you'd think knowledge, in them, would be superfluous. Thus,
none so fair.                                like garden trees, they seldom show fruit, till time
Jul. I see you are determined to be unkind-  has robbed them of the more specious blossom:
The contract, which my poor father bound us in, few, like Mrs. Malaprop, and the orange-tree, are
gives you more than a lover's privilege.     rich in both at once!
Faulk. Again, Julia, you raise ideas that feed   Mrs. MI. Sir, you overpower me with good
and justify my doubts. How shall I be sure, had breeding.-He isthe very pine-apple of politeness!
you remained unbound in thought or promise, You are not ignorant, captain, that this giddy girl
that I should still have been the object of your has, somehow, contrived to fix her affections on a
persevering love.                            beggarly, strolling, eves-dropping ensign, whom
Jul. Then try me now-Let us be free as none of us have seen, and nobody knows any
strangers, as to what is past: My heart will not thing of.
feel more liberty.                              Capt. A. Oh, I have heard the silly affair beFaulk. There, now! so hasty, Julia! so anx- fore. I'm not at all prejudiced against her on that
ious to be free! If your love for me were fixed account, but it must be very distressing, indeed,
and ardent, you would not loose your bonds, even  Ma'am.
though I wished it!                             Mrs. M[. Oh, it gives me the hydrostatics to
Jul. Oh, you torture me to the heart! I cannot such a degree i-I thought she had persisted, from
bear it!                                    corresponding with him; but behold, this very
Faulk. I do not mean to distress you: If I day, I have interceded another letter.from  the
loved you less, I should never give you any uneasy fellow-I believe I have it in my pocket.
moment. I would not boast, yet let me say, that   Capt. A. Oh, the devil! my last note! [Aside.
I have neither age, person, or character, to found   Mrs. M. Ay, here it is.
dislike on; my fortune such, as few ladies could    Capt. A. Ay, my note, indeed! 0, the little
be charged with indiscretion in the match. 0, traitress, Lucy!                     [Aside




SCN~E I.]                        THE  RIVALS.                                     357
Mrs. M. There, perhaps you may know the   Mrs. Al. Sir?
writing.                [Gives him the letter.   Capt. A. Gently, good tongue!    [Aside.
Capt. A. I think I have seen the hand before-    Mrs. VI. What did you say of Beverley.
yes, I certainly must have seen this hand before.-   Capt. A. Oh, I was going to propose that you
Mrs. M. Nay, but read it, captain.         should tell her, by way of jest, that it was BeverCapt. A. [Reads.] My soul's idol, my adored ley who was below-she'd come down fast enough
Lydia!- Very tender, indeed!                then-ha, ha, ha!
~Mrs. M. Tender! ay, and profane too, o'my   Mlrs. 1/.'Twould be a trick she well deserves
conscience!                                 -besides, you know the fellow tells her he'll get
Capt. A. I am excessively alarmed at the in- my consent to see her-ha, ha!-Let him, if he
telligence you send me, the more so as my new  can, I say again.  Lydia, come down here!
rival-                                       [Calling.] He'll make me a go-between in their
2MIrs. M. That's you, Sir.                 interviews!-ha, ha, ha!-Come down, I say,
Capt. A. Has universally the character of be- Lydia!-I don't wonder at your laughing-ha,
ing an accomplished gentleman, and a man of ha, ha! his impudence is truly ridiculous.
honour.-Well, that's handsome enough.          Capt. A.'Tis very ridiculous, upon my soul,.Mrs. Ml. Oh, the fellow has some design in Ma'am!-ha, ha, ha!
writing so.                                    Mrs. M. The little hussy wont hear.-Well,
Capt. A. That he had, I'll answer for him, I'll go and tell her at once how it is-she shall
Ma'am.                                       know that Captain Absolute is come to wait on
Mrs. MA. But go on, Sir-you'll see presently.  her.-And I'll make her behave as becomes a
Capt. A. As for the old weather-beaten she- young woman.
dragon, who guards you-Who can he mean by    Capt. A. As you please, Ma'am.
that?                                         Mrs. M. For the present, captain, your servant
MUrs. M. Me, Sir-me-he means me there- -Ah, you've not done laughing yet, I see-elude
what do you think now?-but go on a little fur- my vigilance! yes, yes-Ha, ha, ha!  [Exit.
ther.                                          Capt. A. Ha, ha, ha! one would think, now,
Capt. A. Impudent scoundrel!-it shall go that I might throw off all disguise at once, and
hard but 1 will elude her vigilance; as I am told seize my prize with security-but such is Lydia's
that the same ridiculous vanity, which makes her caprice, that, to undeceive, were probably to lose
dress up her coarse features, and deck her dull her. I'll see whether she knows me.
chat with hard words which she don't under-      [Walks aside, and seems engaged in lookstand-                                             ing at the pictures.
Mrs. MW. There, Sir, an attack upon my language! what do you think of that?-an aspersion
upon my parts of speech! was ever such a brute!   Lyd. What a scene am I now to go through!
Sure if I reprehend any thing in this world, it is surely nothing can be more dreadful, than to be
the use of my oracular tongue, and a nice derange- obliged to listen to the loathsome addresses of a
ment of epitaphs.                            stranger to one's heart.-I have heard of girls
Capt. A. He deserves to be hanged and quar- persecuted, as I am, who have appealed, in behalf
tered! let me see-same ridiculous vanity-   of their favoured lover, to the generosity of his
Mrs. AI. You need not read it again, Sir!  rival: suppose I were to try it-there stands the
Capt. A. I beg pardon, Ma'am-does also lay hated rival-an officer too!-but, oh, how unlike
her open. to the grossest deceptions from flattery  my Beverley!-I wonder he don't begin-truly,
and pretended admiration-an impudent cox- he seems a very negligent wooer! quite at his ease,
comb-so that I have a scheme to see you shortly, upon my word! —I'll speak first-Mr. Absolute!
with the old harridan's consent, and even to   Capt. A. Ma'am.            [Turns round.
make her a go-between in our interviews. —Was   Lyd. 0 heavens! Beverley!
ever such assurance!                           Capt. A. Hush!-hush, my life!-softly! be
Mrs. A11  Did you ever hear any thing like it? not surprised!
-He'll elude my vigilance, will he — yes, yes!-    Lyd. I am so astonished! and so terrified! and
ha, ha! he's very likely to enter these doors!-  so overjoyed!-for heaven's sake, how came you
we'll try who can plot best!                here?
Capt. A. So we will, Ma'am-so we will.-   Capt. A. Briefly-I have deceived your auntHa, ha, ha! a conceited puppy! ha, ha, ha!-  I was informed that my new rival wasto visit here
Well, but Mrs. Malaprop, as the girl seems so in- this evening, and, contriving to have him kept
fatuated by this fellow, suppose you were to wink away, have passed myself on her for Captain
at her corresponding with him for a little time-  Absolute.
let her even plot an elopement with him-then do   Lyd. Oh, charming!-And she really takes
you connive at her escape-while I, just in the you for young Absolute?
nick, will have the. fellow laid by the heels, and    Capt. A. Oh, she's convinced of it.
fairly contrive to carry her off in his stead.  Lyd. Ha, ha, ha! I can't forbear laughing, to
lirs. M. I am delighted with the scheme: never think how her sagacity is over-reached.
was any thing better perpetrated.              Capt. A. But we trifle with our precious moCapt. A. But pray, could I not see the lady for ments-such another opportunity may not occur;
a few minutes now?-I should like to try her then let me now conjure my kind, my condescendtemper a little.                             ing angel, to fix the time when I may rescue her
M#s. hM. Why, I don't know-I doubt she is from undeserving persecution, and, with a licensed
not prepared for a visit of this kind.-There is a warmth, plead for reward.
decorum in these matters.                      Lyd. Will you then, Beverley, consent to forCapt. A. 0 Lord, she wont mind me!-only  feit that portion of my paltry wealth?-that oure11 her, Beverley-                          den on the wings of love?




358                               THE RIVALS.                                  [ACT H!.
Capt. A. Oh, come to me-rich only thus; in    Lyd. May every blessing wait on my Beverley,
loveliness! Bring no portion to me but thy love; my loved Bev-'twill be generous in you, Lydia; for well you   lAIrs. Al. Hussy! Come along-come along.
know, it is theonly dower your poor Beverley can  [Exeunt severally; CAPTAIN AESOLUTE kissrepay.                                                ing his hand to LYDIA, MRS. MALALyd. How  persuasive are his words! how             PROP stops her speaking.
charming will poverty be with him!
Capt. A. By heavens, I would fling all goods
of fortune from me with a prodigal hand, to enjoy  ACRES and DAVID discovered: ACRES as just
the scene where I might clasp my Lydia to my                    dressed.
bosom, and say, the world affords no smile to me    Acres. Indeed, David,-dress does make a difbut here.                   [Embracing her. ference, David.
Lyd. Now could I fly with him to the Anti-    David.'Tis all in all, I think-difference!
podes-but my persecution is not yet come to a why, an' you were to go now to Clod Hall, I am
crisis.                                       certain the old lady wouldn't know you: Master
Butler wouldn't believe his own eyes, and Mrs.
Pickle would cry, " Lard presarve me!" our dairy
Mrs. Ak. I am impatient to know how the little  maid would come giggling to the door; and I warhussy deports herself.               [Aside. rant Dolly Tester, your honour's favourite, would
Capt. A. So pensive, Lydia! is then  your blush like my waistcoat: Ooons! I'll hold a galwarmth abated?                                l on, there an't a dog in the house but would bark,
Mrs. M. Warmth abated?-so! she has been  and I question whether Phillis would wag a hair
in a passion, I suppose.                      of her tail.
Lyd. No-nor ever can, while I have life.     Acres. Ay, David, there's nothing like polishMrs. M. An ill-tempered little devil! She'll be ing.
in a passion all her life, will she?           David. So I says of your honour's boots; but
Lyd. Let her choice be Captain Absolute, but the boy never heeds me!
Beverley is mine.                               Acres. But, David, has Mr. De la Grace been
Mrs. M. I am astonished at her assurance!-  here? I must rub up my balancing, and chasing,
to his face; this to his face!               and boring.
Capt. A. Thus, then, let me enforce my suit.    David. I'll call again, Sir.
[Kneeling.   Acres. Do, and see if there are any letters for
Mrs. M. Ay-poor young man! down on his me at the Post-office.
knees, entreating for pity! I can contain no    David. I will. By the mass, I can't help looklonger.  Why, thou vixen! I have overheard  ing at your head! if I hadn't been at the cooking,
you.                                          I wish I may die if I should have known the dish
Capt. A. Oh, confound her vigilance! [Aside. again myself?
Mrs, M. Captain Absolute; I know not how        [Exit. AcRES comes forward, practising a
to apologise for her shocking rudeness.                       dancing step.
Capt. A. So; all's safe, I find. [Aside.] I have    Acres. Sink, slide, coupbe.  Confound the first
hopes, Madam, that time will bring: the young inventors of cotillions, say I! they are as bad as
lady —                                       algebra, to us country gentlemen; I can walk a
Mrs. M. 0, there's nothing: to be hoped for minuet easy enough, when I am forced! and I
from her! she's as headstrong as an allegory on  have been accounted a good stick in a country
the banks of Nile.                           dance. Odds jigs and tabors! I never valued
Lyd. Nay, Madam, what do you charge me your cross-over two couple-figure in-right and
with now?                                    left-and I'd foot it with e'er a captain in the
Mrs. AlM. Why, thou unblushing rebel, didn't country! but these outlandish heathen allemandes
you: tell this gentleman to his face, that you loved  and cotillions are quite beyond me! I shall never
another better? didn't you say you never would  prosper at them, that's sure, mine are true born
be his.  English legs; they don't understand their cursed
Lyd. No, Madam, I did not.                 French lingo! their pas this, and pas that, and
Mrs. M. Good Heavens, what assurance! Lydia,'pas t'other!
Lydia,-: you ought to kniow that lying don't become          Enter DAVID.
a young woman.! Didn't you boast that Beverley,
David. Here is Sir Lucius O'Trigger to wait
that stroller:Beverley, possessed  your heart? on you, Sir.
Tell me that, I say.Show him in.                                              Exit DAVID.
Lyd.'Tis true, Ma'am; and none but Bever    A
ley-..                            Enter SIR Lucius O'TRIGGER.
Mrs. M. Hold! hold, assurance-! you:shall not   Sir L. Mr. Acres, I am delighted to embrace
be so rude.                                  you.
Capt. A. Nay, pray, Mrs. Malaprop, don't stop    Acres. My dear Sir Lucius, I kiss your hands.
the young lady's speech: she's very welcome to    Sir L. Pray, my friend, what has brought you
talk thus, it does not hurt me in the least, 1 as- so suddenly to Bath?
sure you.                                      Acres.'Faith, I have followed Cupid's jack-aVirs. M. You-are too good, captain-too amia- lantern, and find myself in a quagmire at last! In
bly patient: but come with me, Miss; let us see short, I have been very ill-used, Sir Lucius. I
youl again soon, captain; remember what we have don't choose to mention names, but look on *e as
_xed.                                        a very ill-used gentleman.
Capt. A. I shall, Ma'am.                      Sir L.. Pray, what is the case? I ask no names.
Mrs. 1. Come, take a graceful leave of the    Acres. Mark me, Sir Lucius; I fall as deep as
gentleman.                                    need be in love with a young lady; her friends




'SC~ENE —I.]                      THE -RIVALS.                                      359
take my part. I follow her to Bath, send word Odd's bullets and blades! I'll write a good boll.
of my arrival; and receive answer, that the lady hand, however.
is to be otherwise disposed of. This, Sir Lucius,   Sir L. Pray, compose yourself.
I call being ill-used.                         Acres. Come-now, shall 1 begin with anoath?
Sir L. Very ill, upon my conscience! Pray, Do, Sir Lucius, let me begin with a damme.
can you divine the cause of it 3.               Sir L. Pho, pho! do the thing decently, and
Acres. Why, there's the matter: she has like a Christian. Begin now-Sir.
another lover, one Beverley, who, I am told, is   Acres. That's too civil by half.
now in Bath. Odds slanders and lies! he must   Sir L. To prevent the confusion that might
be at the bottom of it.                      ariseSir L. A rival in the case, is there? and you    Acres. Well.
think he has supplanted you unfairly 3         Sir L. From our both addressing the same
Acres. Unfairly! to be sure he has. He never ladycould have done it fairly.                      Acres. Ay-there's the reason-same ladySir L. Then sure you know what is to be Well.
(lone!                                          Sir L. I shall expect the faour of your comAcres. Not I, upon my soul!                pany,Sir L. We wear no swords here, but you un-   Acres. Zounds! I'm not asking him to dinner?
derstand me?                                   Sir L. Pray, be easy.
Acres. What! fight him 3                     Acres. Well, then, honour of your company,Sir L. Ay, to be sure: what can I mean else?   Sir L. To settle our pretensions,Acres. But he has given me no provocation.   Acres. Well.
Sir L. Now, I think he has given you the    Sir L. Let me see; ay, King's-Mead-fields will
greatest provocation in the' world. Can a man- do; in King's-lMead-fields.
commit a more heinous offence against another,   Acres. So, that's done. Well, I'll fold it up
than to fall in love with the same woman - Oh, presently; my own crest, a hand and dagger, shall
by my soul, it is the most unpardonable breach of be the seal.
friendship.                                     Sir L. You see now, this little explanation will
Acres. Breach of friendship 3 Ay, ay; but I put a stop at once to all confusion or misunderhave no acquaintance with this man. I never standing that might arise between you.
saw him in my life.                        I   Acres. Ay, we fight to prevent any misunderSir L.- That's no argument at all-he has the standing.
less right then to take such a liberty.:        Sir L. Now, I'll leave you to fix your owr
Acres.'Gad, that's true-I grow full of anger, time. Take my advice, and you'll decide it this
Sir Lucius! I fire apace; odds hilts and blades! I evening, if you can; then, let the worst come of
find a man may have a deal of valour in him, and it,'twill be off your mind to-morrow.
not know it! But couldn't I contrive to have a   Acres. Very true.
little right on my side?                       Sir L. So 1 shall see nothing more of you, unSir L. What the devil signifies right, when less it be by letter, till the evening. I would do
your honour is concerned? do you think Achilles, myself the honour to carry your message; but, to
or my little Alexander the Great, ever inquired  tell you a secret, I believe I shall have just such
where the right lay? No, by my soul, they drew  another affair on my own hands. There is a gay
their broad swords, and left the lazy sons of peace captain here who put a jest on me lately at the
to settle the justice of it.                 expense of my country, and I only want to fall in
Acres. Your words are a grenadier's march to with the gentleman, to call him out.
my heart! I believe courage must be catching! I   Acres. By my valour, I should like to see you
certainly do feel a kind of valour arising as it were fight first! Odds life, I should like to see you kill
-a kind of courage, as I may say-odds flints, him, if it was only to get a little lesson!
pans, and triggers! I'll challenge him directly.  Sir L. I shall be very proud of instructing you.
Sir, L. Ah, my little friend! if I had Blunder- Well, for the present-but remember now, when
buss Hall here-I could show you a range of you meet your antagonist, do every thing in a
ancestry, in the O'Trigger line, that would fur- mild and agreeable manner. Let your courage
nish the New Room; every one of whom had be as keen, but at the same time as polished, as
killed his man! For though the mansion-house your sword.                        [Exeunt.
and dirty acres have slipped through my fingers,               ACT IV.
I thank Heaven, our honour and the family pictures are as fresh as ever.
Acres. Oh, Sir Lucius, I have bad ancestors              ACRES and DAVID.
too:! every man of them colonel or captain in the    David. Then, by the mass, Sir, I would do Iru
militia, odd's balls and barrels! say no more-I'm  such thing! ne'er a Sir Lucius O'Trigger in the
braced for it. The thunder of your words has kingdom should make me fight, when I wa'n't so
soured the milk of human kindness in my breast! minded. Oons  what will the old lady say, when
Zounds! as the man in the play-says, "I could do she hears o't?
such deeds."                                    Acres. But my honour, David, my honour I 1
Sir L. Come, come, there must be no passion must be very careful of my honour.
at all in the case; these things should always be * David. Ay, by the mass! and I would be very
done civilly.                                 careful of it, and I think in return my honour
Acres. I must be in a passion, Sir Lucius; I couldn't do less than to be very careful of me.
must be in a rage. Dear Sir Lucius, let me be in    Acres. Odds blades! David, no gentleman will
a rage, if you love me.  Come, here's pen and ever risk the loss of his honour!
paper. [Sits down to write.]J I would the ink were   David. I say, then, it would be but civil in
red:! Indite, -I say, indite! How shall I begin   honour never to risk the loss of a gentleman.




360                              THE RIVALS.                                    [ACT IV.
Lookye, master, this honour seems to me to be a   Acres. A  vile, sheep-hearted olockhead! If I
marvellous false friend; ay, truly, a very courtier- hadn't the valour of St. George, and the dragon
like servant. Put the case, I was a gentleman  to boot(which, thank God, no one can say of me;) well   Capt. A. But what did you wallt with me,
-my honour makes me quarrel with another Bob?
gentleman of my acquaintance. So, we fight.   Acres. Oh! —there(Pleasant enough that.)  Boh! I kill him; (the                    [Gives him the znallenge.
more's my luck.)  Now, pray, who gets the profit   Capt. A. To Ensign Beverley. So —what's
of it' why, my honour. But put the case that going on now? [Aside.] Well, what's this?
he kills me! by the mass! I go to the worms, and    Acres. A challenge!
my honour whips over to my enemy.               Capt. A. Indeed! why, you wont fight him)
Acres. No, David, in that case! Odds crowns will you, Bob?
and laurels! your honour follows you to the grave!   Acres.'Egad, but I will, Jack. Sir Lucius
David. Now, that's just the place where I has wrought me to it. He has left me full of
could make a shift to do without it.         rage, and I'll fight this evening, that so much
Acres. Zounds! David, you are a coward! It good passion mayn't be wasted.
doesn't become my valour to listen to you.-What,    Capt. A. But what have I to do with this?
shall I disgrace my ancestors? think of that,   Acres. Why, as I think you know something
David; think what it would be to disgrace my  of this fellow, I want you to find him out for mq
ancestors!                                   and give him this mortal defiance.
David. Under favour, the surest way of not   Capt. A. Well, give it me, and trust me he
disgracing them is to keep as long as you can out gets it.
of their company. Lookye now, master, to go to   Acres. Thank you, my dear friend, my dear
them in such haste-with an ounce of lead in  Jack; but it is giving you a great deal of trouble.
your brains-I should think it might as well be    Capt. A. Not in the least-I beg you wont
let alone. Our ancestors are very good kind of mention it. No trouble in the world, I assure you.
folks; but they are the last people I should choose    Acres. You are very kind. What it is to have
to have a visiting acquaintance with.        a friend! you couldn't be my second, could you,
Acres. But, David, now, you don't think there Jack?
is such very, very, very great danger, hey? Odds    Capt. A. Why no, Bob-not in this affair-it
life! people often fight without any mischief done! would not be quite so proper.
David. By the mass, I think'tis ten to one    Acres. Well, then, I must get my friend Sir
against you. Ooons! here to meet some lion- Lucius. I shall have your good wishes, however,
headed fellow, I warrant, with his damned double- Jack?
barrelled swords and cut-and-thrust pistols! Lord    Capt. A. Whenever he meets you, believe me.
bless us! it makes me tremble to think o't; those           Enter SERVANT.
be such desperate bloody-minded weapons! well,
I never could abide them; from a child I never   Serv. Sir Anthony Absolute is below, inquircould fancy them! I suppose there an't been so ing for the captain.
merciless a beast in the world as your loaded pis-    Capt. A. I'll come instantly. Well, my little
tol!                                        hero, success attend you.            [Going.
Acres. Zounds! I wont be afraid; odds fire and    Acres. Stay, stay Jack. If Beverley should
fury! you sha'n't make me afraid. Here is the ask you what kind of a man your friend Acres is,
challenge, and I have sent for my dear friend, do tell him I am a devil of a fellow, will you, Jack?
Jack Absolute, to carry it for me.              Capt. A. To be sure, I shall. I'll say you are
David. Ay, i'the name of mischief, let him be a determined dog; hey, BobS
the messenger. For my part, I wouldn't lend a    Acres. Ay, do, do; and if that frightens him,
hand to it for the best horse in your stable. By'egad, perhaps he mayn't come. So tell him I
the mass! it don't look like another letter! it is, as generally kill a man a week; will you, Jack?
I may say, a designing and malicious-looking let-   Capt. A. I will, I will; I'll say you are called,
ter! and I warrant smells of gunpowder, like a in the country, " Fighting Bob."
soldier's pouch! Oons! I wouldn't swear it mayn't   Acres. Right, right;'tis all to prevent mischie(;
go off!                                      for I don't want to take his life, if I clear my hoAcres. Out, you poltroon! you ha'n't the valour nour.
of a grasshopper.                               Capt. A. No! that's very kind of you.
David. Well, I say no more:'twill be sad    Acres. Why, you don't wish me to kill him, do
news, to be sure, at Clod Hall! but I ha' done. you, Jack?
How Phillis will howl when she hears of it! ay,   Capt. A. No, upon my soul, I do not. But a
poor bitch, she little thinks what shooting her devil of a fellow, hey?          [Going.
master's going after! and I warrant old Crop, who    Acres. True, true; but stay, stay Jack; you
has carried your honour, field and road, these ten  may add, that you never saw me in such a rage
years, will curse the hour he was born i!     before; a most devouring rage.
[Whimpering.    Capt. A. I will, I will.
Acres. It wont do, David, I am determined to    Acres. Remember, Jack-a determined dog!
fight; so get along, you coward, while I'm in the    Capt. A. Ay, ay, "Fighting Bob."
mind.                                                                    [ Exeunt severally.
David. Good bye, master.    [Whimpering.
Acres. Get along, you cowardly, dastardly,
csoaking raven!                [Exit DAVID.           MRS. MALAPROP and LYDIA.
Enter CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE.
Mrs. M. Why, thou perverse one! tell me
Capt. A. What s the matter, Bob?          what you can object to him? Isn't he a handsome




SCENE II.]                       THE  RIVALS.                                     361
man? tell me that. A genteel man? a pretty  happiness.  Zounds! sirrah! why don't you
figure of a man.                            speak?                        [Aside to him.
Lyd. She little thinks whom she is praising!   Capt. A. Hem, hem! Madam, hem! [ABso[Aside.] So is Beverley, Ma'am.              LUTE attempts to speak, then returns to SIR ANMIrs. M. No caparisons, Miss, if you please. THONY.]'Faith! Sir, [ am so confounded! and
Caparisons don't become a young woman. No! so-so-confused! I told you I should be so, Sir,
Captain Absolute is indeed a fine gentleman.  I knew it. The-the —tremor of my passion enLyd. Ay, the Captain Absolute you have seen. tirely takes away my presence of mind.
[Aside.   Sir A. But it don't take away your voice, fool,
Mrs. M. Then he's so well bred; so full of does it? go up, and speak to her directly! [ABsoalacrity and adulation! I protest, when I saw  LUTE makes signs to MRS. MALAPROr to leave
him, I thought of what Hamlet says in the play: them together.] What the devil are you at? un"Hesperian curls-the front of Job himself'! an lock your jaws, sirrah, or-  [Aside to him.
eye, like March, to threaten at command! a sta-   Capt. A. [Draws near LYDIA.] Now Heaven
tion, like Harry Mercury, new"-something about send she may be too sullen to look round! I must
kissing-on a hill-however, the similitude struck disguise my voice. [Aside. Speaks in a low,
me directly.                                 hoarse tone.] Will not Miss Languish lend an
Lyd. How enraged she'll be presently, when ear to the mild accents of true love? will not- -
she discovers her mistake.           [Aside.   Sir A. What the devil ails the fellow   why
Enter SERVANT,                 don't you speak out? not stand croaking like a
frog in a quinsey!
Serv. Sir Anthony and Captain Absolute are    Capt. A. The-the-excess of my awe, and
below, Ma'am.                                my-my-my modesty, quite choke me!
Ml/rs. M. Show  them  up here. [Exit SER-   Sir A. Ah! your modesty again! I'll tell you
VANT.] Now, Lydia, I insist on your behaving as what, Jack; if you don't speak out directly and
becomes a young woman.  Show  your good glibly too, I shall be in such a rage! Mrs. Malabreeding, at least, though you have forgot your prop, I wish the lady would favour us with someduty.                                        thing more than a side-front.
Lyd. Madam, I have told you my resolution!        [MRS. MALAPROP seems to chide LYDI...
I shall not only give him no encouragement, but   Capt. A. So all will out, I see! [Goes up to
I wont even speak to, or look at him.        LYDIA, speaks softly.] Be not surprised, my
[Flings herself into a chair, with her face Lydia, suppress all surprise at present.
from the door.                         Lyd. [Aside.] Heavens!'tis Beverley's voice!
Enter SIR ANTHONY and CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE. [Looks round by degrees, and then starts up.l
Is this possible? my Beverley! how can this be
Sir A. Here we are, Mrs. Malaprop; come to my Beverley?
mitigate the frowns of unrelenting beauty, and    Capt. A. Ah!'tis all over!     [Aside.
difficulty enough I had to bring this fellow: I   Sir A. Beverley! the devil! Beverley! what
don't know what's the matter, but if 1 had not can the girl mean? This is my son, Jack Absolute.
held him by force, he'd have given me the slip.  MIrs. M. For shame, hussy! for shame! your
Mrs. M1. You have infinite trouble, Sir An- head runs so on that fellow, that you have him
thony, in the affair. I am ashamed for the cause! always in your eyes! beg Captain Absolute's parLydia, Lydia, rise, I beseech you! pay your re- don, directly.
spects.                        [Aside to her.   Lyd. I see no Captain Absolute, but my loved'Sir A. I hope, Madam, that Miss Languish  Beverley!
has reflected on the worth of this gentleman, and    Sir A. Zounds, the girl's mad! her brain's
the regard due to her aunt's choice, and my alli- turned by reading!
ance. [Aside to MRS. M.] Now, Jack, speak to   Mrs. M. O' my conscience, I believe so! what
her.                   [Aside to the Captain. do you mean by Beverley, hussy? you saw CapCapt. A. What the devil shall I do? [Aside.] tain Absolute before to-day; there he is; your
You see, Sir, she wont even look at me whilst husband that shall be.
you are here. I knew she wouldn't! I told you   Lyd. With all my soul, Ma'am: when I refuse
so. Let me entreat you, Sir, to leave us together! my Beverley[To his Father.   Sir A. Oh, she's as mad as Bedlam! or has
Lyd. [Aside.] 1 wonder I ha'n't heard my aunt this fellow been playing us a rogue's trick! Come
exclaim yet! sure she can't have looked at him! here, sirrah, who the devil are you?
perhaps their regimentals are alike, and she is   Capt. A.'Faith, Sir, I am not quite clear mysomething blind.                             self; but I'll endeavour to recollect.
Sir A. I say, Sir, I wont stir a foot yet.   Sir A. Are you my son or not? answer for
Mrs. M. I am sorry to say, Sir Anthony, that your mother, you dog, if you wont for me.
my affluence over my niece is very small. Turn    Capt. A. Ye powers. of impudence, befriend
round, Lydia, I blush for you!   [Aside to her. me! [Aside.] Sir Anthony, most assuredly I am
Sir A. May I not flatter myself, that Miss your wife's son; and that I sincerely believe myLanguish will assign what cause of dislike she self to be yours also, I hope my duty has always
can have to my son  why don't you begin, Jack? shown. Mrs. Malaprop, I am your most respectspeak, you puppy, speak!      [Aside to him. ful admirer, and shall be proud to add, affectionate
M[rs. Ik. It is impossible, Sir Anthony, she nephew. I need not tell my Lydia, that she sees
can have any. She will not say she has. An- her faithful Beverley, who, knowing the siligula;
swer, hussy! why don't you answer?          generosity of her temper, assumed that name, and
[Aside to her. a station, which has proved a test of the most
Sir A. Then, Madam, I trust that a childish disinterested love, which he now hopes to enioy
and hasty predilection will be no bar to Jack's in a more elevated character.
VOL. I.... 2 Z      31




362                               THE RIVALS.                                  [ACT IV.
Lyd. So! there will be no elopement after all! you. If I have lost your heart, I resign the rest
Sir A. Upon my soul, Jack, thou art a very'Gad, I must try what a little spirit will do.
impudent fellow! to do you justice, I think I never                                [Asine.
saw a piece of more consummate assurance!       Lyd. [Rising.] Then, Sir, let me tell you, the
Capt. A. Oh, you flatter me, Sir, you compli- interest you had there was acquired by a mean,
ment:'tis my modesty, you know, Sir; my  unmanlyimposition, and deserves the punishment
modesty, that has stood in my way.            of fraud.   What, you have been treating me like
Sir A. Well, I am glad you are not the dull, a child! humouring my romance! and laughing,
insensible varlet you pretended to be, however! I suppose, at your success!
I'm glad you have made a fool of your father, you    Capt. A. You wrong me, Lydia, you wrong
dog-I am-So this was your penitence, your me-only hearduty, and obedience! I thought it was damned    Lyd. So, while I fondly imagined we were desudden-you never heard their names before, not ceiving my relations, and flattered myself that I
you! what, the Languishes of Worcestershire, should outwit and incense them all-behold my
hey? if you could please me in this affair,'twas hopes are to be crushed at once, by my aunt's
all you desired! ah! you dissembling villain! consent and approbation, and I am myself the
what! [Pointing to LYDIA.] she squints, don't only dupe at last! [TIalking about in a heat.] but
she! a little redhaired girl! hey. why, you hypo- here, Sir, here is the picture; Beverley's picture!
critical, young rascal, I wonder you a'n't ashamed  [ Taking a miniature from her bosom.] which I
to hold up your head!                        have worn, night and day, in spite of threats and
Capt; A.'Tis with difficulty, Sir-I am con- entreaties! there, Sir, [Flings it to him.] and be
fused-very much confused, as you must perceive. assured, I throw the original from my heart as
Mrs. M1. 0 lud  Sir Anthony! a new light easily.
breaks in upon me i hey! how! what! captain,    Capt. A. Nay, nay, Ma'am, we will not differ
did you write  the letters then? what! am I to as to that-here, [Taking out a picture.] here is
thank you for the elegant compilation of "an old  Miss Lydia Languish:-what a difference! ay
weather-beaten she-dragon"-hey? O mercy! was there is the heavenly assenting smile, that first
it you that reflected om my parts of speech?  gave soul and spirit to my hopes! those are the
Capt. A. Dear Sir! my modesty will be over- lips which sealed a vow, as yet scarce dry in
powered at last, if you don't assist me. Jl shall Cupid's calendar! and there the half-resentful
certainly not be able to stand it.            blush, that would have checked the ardour of my
Sir A. Comej come, Mrs. Malaprop, we must thanks. Well, all that's past; all over, indeed!
forget and forgive; odds life! matters have taken  There, Madam; in beauty, that copy is not equal
so clever a turn all of a sudden, that 1 could find  to you, but in my mind, its merit over the origiin my heart-to be so good-humoured! and so gal- nal, in being still the same, is such-that-I'll put
lant! hey! Mrs. Malaprop! come, we must leave it into my pocket.       [Puts it up again.
them together; Mrs. Malaprop, they long to fly    Lyd. [Softening.]'Tis your own doing, Sirinto each other's arms, I warrant! Jack, isn't the I, I, I suppose you are perfectly satisfied.
cheek as I said, hey? and the eye, you rogue! and    Capt. A. Oh, most certainly; sure now, this is
the lip, hey? come, Mrs. Malaprop, we'll not dis- much better than being in love! ha, ha, ha! there's
turb their tenderness; theirs is the time of life for some spirit in this! what signifies breaking some
happiness! [Sings.] Youth's the season made scores of solemn promises; all that's of no consefor joy, hey! odd's life! I'm in such spirits, I don't quence, you know. To be sure, people will say,
know what I could not do! permit me, Ma'am. that Miss didn't know her own mind; but never
[Gives his hand to MRS. MALAPROP.  Sings.] mind that; or, perhaps, they may be ill-natured
Tol de rol —'gad I should like to have a little fool- enough to hint, that the gentleman grew tired of
ing myself —Tol de rol! de roi!              the lady, and forsook her; but don't let that fret
[Exit singing, and handing MRS. MALAPROP. YOU.
LYDIA sits sullenly in the chair.        Lyd. There's no bearing this insolence!
Capt. A. So much thought bodes me no good                              [Bursts into tears.
[Aside.] So grave, Lydia!                       Enter MRS. MALAPROP and SIR ANTHONY.
Lyd. Sir!
Capt. A. So!'egad! I thought as much! that   Mrs. M. [Entering.] Come, we must interdamned monosyllable has froze me! [Aside.] what, rupt your billing and cooing awhile.
Lydia, now that we are as happy in our friends'   Lyd. This is worse than your treachery and
consent as in our mutual vows-                deceit, you base ingrate!          [Sobbing.
ILyd. Friends' consent, indeed!   [Peevishly.   Sir A. What the devil's the matter now 
Capt A. Come, come, we must lay aside some  Zounds! Mrs. Malaprop, this is the oddest billing
of our romance; a little wealth and comfort may  and cooing I ever heard!-but what the deuce is
be endured after all. And for your fortune, the the meaning of it?-I'm quite astonished!
lawyers shall make such settlements as          Capt. A. Ask the lady, Sir.
Lyd. Lawyers! I hate lawyers!                Sirs. M. Oh, mercy! I'm  quite analysed, for
Capt. A. Nay, then we will not wait for their my part! why, Lydia, what is the reason of this?
lingering forms, but instantly procure the license,   Lyd. Ask the gentleman, Ma'am.
and-                                            Sir A. Zounds! I shall be in a frenzy! why,
Lyd. The license! I hate license!         Jack, you are not come out to be any one else,
Capt. A. Oh, my love! be not so unkind; thus are you?
let me entreat-                   [Kneeling.   Mrs. M. Ay, Sir, there's no more trick, is
Lyd. Pshaw! what signifies kneeling, when  there? you are not, like Cerberus, three gentleyou know I must have you?                    men at once, are you?
Capt. A. [Rising.] Nay, Madam, there shall   Capt. A. You'll not let me speak; [ saythe lady
n. no constraint uyon your inclinations, I promise can account for this much better than I can.




SCENE III.]                      THE  RIVALS.                                       363
Lyd. Ma'am, you once commanded me never   Sir L. I humbly thank you, Sir, for the quickto think of Beverley again-there is the man; I ness of your apprehension; [Bowing.] you have
now obey you: for, from this moment, I renounce named the very thing I would be at.
him for ever.                   [Exit LYDIA.   Capt. A. Very well, Sir, I shall certainly: not
Mrs. M, 0 mercy and miracles! what a turn. baulk your inclinations;'but I should be glad you
here is! Why sure, captain, you haven't behaved  would please to examine your motives.
disrespectfully to my niece?                   Sir L. Pray, Sir, be easy, the quarrel is a very
Sir A. Ha, ha, ha!-ha, ha, ha! now I see it. pretty quarrel, as it stands; we should only spoil
Ha, ha, ha! now I see it; you have been too live- it by trying to explain it. However, your memory
ly, Jack.                                     is very short; or you could not have forgot an afCapt. A. Nay, Sir, upon my word-           front you passed on me within this week. So, no
Sir A. Come, no lying, Jack, I'm sure'twas more, but name your time and place.
so. Come, no excuses, Jack; why your father,   Capt. A. Well, Sir, since you are so bent on
you rogue, was so before you: the blood of the it, the sooner the better; let it be this evening,
Absolutes was always impatient.               here by the Spring Gardens. We shall scarcely
Capt. A. By all that's good, Sir-          be interrupted.
Sir A. Zounds! say no more, I tell you; Mrs.   Sir L.'Faith! that same interruption, in affairs
Malaprop shall make your peace.  You must of this nature, shows very great ill-breeding. I
make his peace, Mrs. Malaprop: you must tell don't know what's the reason, but in England,
her,'tis Jack's way; tell her,'tis all our ways: it if a thing of this kind gets wind, people make such
runs in the blood of our family! Come away,. a pother, that a gentleman can never fight in peace
Jack, ha, ha, ha! Mrs. Malaprop, a young villain! and quietness. However, if it's the same to you,
[Pushes him out. captain, I should take it as a particular kindness,
Mffrs. M. Oh, Sir Anthony! 0, fie, captain!   if you'd let us meet in King's-Mead-fields, as a
[Exeunt severally. little business will call me there about six o'clock,
SCENE- III.-The North Parade.           and 1 may dispatch both matters at once.
Capt. A.'Tis the same to me exactly. A lit
Enter SIR LuCIUS  O'TRIGGER.          tie after six, then, we will discuss this matter
Sir L. I wonder where this Captain Absolute more seriously.
hides himself. Upon my conscience, these officers   Sir L. If you please, Sir; there will be a very
are always in one's way in love affairs: I remem-sword light, though it wont do for a
her I might havemarried Lady Dorothy Carmine, long shot. So, that matter's settled; and my
if it had not been for a little rogue of a major, who mind's at ease.                [Extt.
ran away with her before she could get sight of
me! And I wonder what it is the ladies can see   Enter FAULKLAND, meeting CAPTAIN
in them to be so fond of them; unless it be a touch
of the old serpent in them, that makes the little
creatures be caught, like vipers, with a bit of red    Capt. A. Well met. I was going to look for
cloth. Ha, isn't this the captain coming?'faith, you. Oh, Faulkland! all the demons of spite and
it is! There is a probability of succeeding about disappointment have  conspired against me! I'm
that fellow, that is mighty provoking! who the so vexed, that if I had not the prospect of a redevil is he talking tot         [Steps aside. source, in being knocked o' the head by and by, I
should scarce have spirits to tell you the cause.
Enter CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE.               Faulk. What can you mean?  Has Lydia
Capt. A. To what fine purpose have I been changed her mind?  I should have thought her
plotting! a noble reward for all my schemes, upon duty and inclination would now have pointed to
my soul! a little gipsey! I did not think her so the same object.
damned absurd either.'Sdeath, I never was in a    Capt. A. Ay, just as the eyes do of a person
worse humour in all my life! I could cut my own who squints: when her love-eye was fixed on me,
throat, or any other person's, with the greatest t'other, her eye of duty, was finely obliqued: but,
pleasure in the world!                     - when duty bid her point that the same way, off
Sir L. O,'faith! I'm in the luck of it. 1 never t'other turned on a swivel, and secured its retreat
could have found him in a sweeter temper for my with a frbwn!
purpose; to be sure I'm just come in the nick!   Faulk. But what's the resource younow to enter into conversation with him, and so    Capt. A. Oh, to wind up the whole, Sir Lucius
quarrel genteelly. [SIR LucIusgoes to ABSOLUTE.] O'Trigger, you know him by sight, for some afWith regard to that matter, captain, I must beg front, which I am  sure I never intended, has
leave to differ in opinion with you.         obliged me to meet him this evening at six o'clock:
Capt. A. Upon my word, then, you must be a'tis on that account I wish to see you, you must
very.subtle disputant: because, Sir, I happened  go with me.
just then to be giving no opinion at all.:Faulk. Nay; there must be some mistake, sure.
Sir L. That's no reason; for give me leave to Sir Lucius shall explain himself, and I dare say
tell you, a man.may think an untruth. as well as matters may be accommodated: buit this evening,
speak one.                                    did you say.? I wish it had been any other time.
Capt. A. Very true, Sir; but if a man never   Capt. A. Why? there will be light enough:
utters his thoughts, I should think they might there will (as Sir Lucius says) " be very pretty.
stand a chance of escaping controversy.       small-sword light, though it will not do for a long
Sir L. Then, Sir, you differ in opinion with shot:" Confound his long shots.
me, which amounts:to the same thing.            Faulk. But I am myself a good deal ruffled, by
Capt. A. Harkye, Sir Lucius, what you can a difference I have had with Julia. My vile, tordrive at, unless you mean to quarrel with me, I menting temper has made me treat her so cruelly
cannot conceive!                             that I shall not be myself till we are reconciled.




364                              THE  RIVALS.                                   LACT IV.
Capt. A. By Heavens, Faulkland, you don't must fly this kingdom instantly! Oh, Julia, had
deserve her!                                  I been so fortunate as to have called you mine
Enter Servant; gives FAULKLAND a letter.   entirely, before this mischance had fallen on me,
I should not so deeply dread my banishment.
Faulk. 0, Jack! this is from Julia; I dread to   Jul. My soul is oppressed with sorrow at the
open it.                                      nature of your misfortune: had these adverse cirCapt. A. Here, let me see. [Takes the letter cumstances arisen from a less fatal cause, I should
and opens it.] Ay, a final sentence, indeed!'tis have felt strong comfort in the thought, that I
all over with you,'faith!                    could now chase from your bosom every doubt of
Faulk. Nay, Jack, don't keep me in suspense. the warm sincerity of my love. My heart has
Capt. A. Hear then. [Reads.]               long known no other guardian: I now entrust
As I am convinced, that my dear Faulkland's my person to your honour,-we will fly together:
oen reflections have already upbraided him for when safe from pursuit, my father's will may be
his last unkindness to me, I will not add a word  fulfilled, and I receive a legal claim to be the
on the subject. I wish to speak with you as soon partner of your sorrows, and tenderest comforter.
as possible.  Yours, ever and truly.    JULIA.  Faulk. 0 Julia! I am bankrupt in gratitude!
There's stubbornness and resentment for you! Would you not wish some hours to weigh the
[Gives him the letter.] Why, man, you don't advantages you forego, and what little compensaseem one whit the happier at this!           tion poor Faulkland can make  you besides hin
Faulk. Oh, yes, I am-but-but-              solitary love.
Capt. A. Confound your buts! You never hear   Jul. I ask not a moment. No, Faulkland, I
any thing that would make another man bless have loved you for yourself: and if I now, more
himself, but you immediately damn it, with a but! than ever, prize the solemn engagement which so
Faulk. Now, Jack, as you are my friend, own  long has pledged us to each other, it is because it
honestly-don't you think there is something for- leaves us no room for hard aspersions on my fame,
ward, something indelicate, in this haste to for- and puts the seal of duty to an act of love. But
give? Women should never sue for reconcilia- let us not linger, perhaps this delaytion; that should always come from us: They    Faulk.'Twill be better I should not venture
should retain their coldness till wooed to kind- out again till dark: yet am I grieved to think what.
ness; and their pardon, like their love, should  numberless distresses will press heavy on your
"Not unsought, be won."                       gentle disposition!
Capt. A. I have not patience to listen to you-   Jul. Perhaps your fortune may be forfeited by
thou'rt incorrigible! so say no more on the sub- this unhappy act? I know not whether'tis so,
ject. I must go to settle a few matters; let me see but sure that alone can never make us unhappy.
you before six, remember, at my lodgings. A  The little I have will be sufficient to support us,
poor industrious devil, like me, who have toiled, and exile never should be splendid.
and drudged, and plotted to gain my ends, and    Faulk. Ay, but in such an abject state of life
am, at last, disappointed by other people's folly, my wounded pride, perhaps, may increase the
may, in pity, be allowed to swear and grumble a natural fretfulness of my temper, till I become a
little! but a captious sceptic in love; a slave to rude, morose companion, beyond your patience to
fretfulness and whim, who has no difficulties but endure.
of his own creating, is a subject more fit for ridi-   Jul. If your thoughts should assume so uncule than compassion!                [Exit. happy a bent, you will the more want some mild
Faulk. I feel his reproaches; yet I would not and affectionate spirit to watch over and console
change this too exquisite nicety, for the gross con- you, one who, by bearing your infirmities with
tent with which he tramples on the thorns of gentleness and resignation, may teach you so to
love. His engaging me in this duel has started  bear the evils of your fortune.
an idea in my head, which I will instantly pur-   Faulk. Julia, I have proved you to the quick!
sue: 1'11 use it as the touchstone of Julia's sin- and with this useless device, 1 throw away all my
cerityand disinterestedness; if her love prove pure doubts. How shall I plead to be forgiven this
and sterling ore, my name will rest on it with ho- last unworthy effect of my restless, unsatisfied
nour; and, once I've stamped it there, I'll lay aside disposition?
my doubts for ever!                   [Exit.   Jul. Has no such disaster happened as you related?
T V.  Faulk. I am ashamed to own that it was all
SCENE I. —JULIA's Dressing-Room.        pretended. Let me to-morrow, in the face of
JULIA.                    Heaven, receive my future guide and monitress,
Jul. How this message has alarmed me! what and expiate my past folly, by years of tender
adoration.
dreadful accident can he mean'. why such charge.
o dreadful accident c Fan d   how manwhy such chargppy    Jul. Hold, Faulkland! that you are free from a
moments, how many tears, have you cost me! pycrime, which I before feared to name, Heaven
knows, how sincerely I rejoice! These are tears
Enter FAULKLAND.                of thankfulness for that! But, that your cruel
What means this? why this caution, Faulkland 1 doubts should have urged you to an imposition
Fauok. Alas, Julia! I am come to take a long that has wrung my heart, gives me now a pang
farewell!                                    more keen than I can express!
Jul. Heavens! what do you mean?              Faulk. By Heavens! Julia.
Faulk. You see before you a wretch whose life   Jul. Yet hear me.  My father loved you,
is forfeited. Nay, start not; the infirmity of my Faulkland! and you preserved the life that tender
temper has drawn all this misery on me: I left parent gave me! in his presence I pledged my
you, fretful and passionate,-an untoward acci- hand; joyfully pledged it, where before I had
dent drew me into a quarrel; the event is, that I given my heart. When, soon after, I lost that




SCENE II.]                       THE  RIVALS.                                       365
parent, it seemed to me, that Providence had, in    Lyd. Why, is it not provoking, when T thought
Faulkland, shown me whither to transfer, with- we were coming to the prettiest distress imagin.
out a pause, my grateful duty as well as my affec- able, to find myself made a mere Smithfield bartion: Hence I have been content to bear from  gain of at last?-There had I projected one of
you, what pride and delicacy would have forbid the most sentimental elopements!-so becoming
me from another. I will not upbraid you by re- a disguise!-so amiable a ladder of ropes!-Conpeating how you have trifled with my sincerity.   scious moon-four horses-Scotch parson-with
Faulk. I confess it all! yet, hear-        such surprise to Mrs. Malaprop! and such paraJul. After such a year of trial, I might have graphs in the newspapers!-Oh! 1 shall die with
flattered myself that I should not have been in- disappointment!
suIted with a new probation of my sincerity, as   Jul. 1 don't wonder at it.
cruel as. unnecessary! I now see that it is not in    Lyd. Now, sad reverse!-what have I to exyour nature to be content, or confident, in love. pect, but, after a deal of flimsy preparation, with
With this conviction I never will be yours.  a bishop's license, and my aunt's blessing, to go
Faulk. Nay, but, Julia, by my soul and ho- simpering up to the altar; or, perhaps, be cried
nour! If, after this-                       three times in a country church, and have an unJul. But one word more. As my faith has mannerly fat clerk ask the consent of every
once been given to you, I never will barter it with butcher in the parish, to join John Absolute, and
another.    shall pray for your happiness with  Lydia Languish, spinster!-Oh, that I should
the truest sincerity; and the dearest blessing I can live to hear myself called spinster!
ask of Heaven to send you, will be, to charm you    Jul. Melancholy, indeed!
from that unhappy temper, which alone has pre-.  Lyd. How mortifying to remember the dear
vented the performance of our solemn engage- delicious shifts I used to be put to, to gain half a
ment. All I request of you is, that you will your- minute's conversation with this fellow!-How
self reflect upon this infirmity; and, when you often have I stole forth, in the coldest night in
number up the many true delights- it has deprived January, and found him in the garden stuck like
you of, let it not be your least regret, that it lost a dripping statue!-There would he kneel to me
you the love of one who would have followed you in the snow, and sneeze and cough so patheticalin beggary through the world!         [Exit. ly!-he shivering with cold, and I with apprehenFaulk. She's gone! for ever! There was an sion!-and while the freezing blast numbed our
awful resolution in her manner, that rivetted me joints, how warmly would he press me to pity his
to my place. 0 fool! dolt! barbarian! Cursed as flame, and glow with mutual ardour!-Ah, Julia,
I am, with more imperfections than my fellow- that was something like being in love!
wretches, kind fortune sent a heaven-gifted cherub    Jul. If I were in spirits, Lydia, I should chide
to my aid, and, like a ruffian, I have driven her you only by laughing heartily at you, but it suits
from my side! I must now haste to my appoint- more the situation of my mind at present earnestment. Well, my mind is tuned for such a scene! ly to entreat you, not to let a man, who loves you
I shall wish only to become a principal in it, and  with sincerity, suffer that unhappiness from your
reverse the tale my cursed folly put me upon caprice, which I too well know caprice can inflict.
forging here. O love! tormentor! fiend! whose   Lyd. Oh, Lud! what has brought my aunt
influence, like the moon's, acting on men of dull here?
souls, makes idiots of them, but meeting subtler   Enter MRS MALAPROP and DAVID
spirits, betrays their course, and urges sensibility
to madness!                           [Exit.   Mrs. Ml. So, so! here's fine work!-here's
Enter MAID and LYDIA.  fine suicide, parricide, and simulation, going on
in the fields! and Sir Anthony not to be found to
Mklaid. My mistress, Ma'am, I know, was here prevent the antistrophe!
just now-perhaps she is only in the next room.    Jul. For Heaven's sake, Madam, what's the
[Exit. meaning of this.
Lyd. Heigho! Though he has used me so, this   Lyd. Oh, patience!-Do, Ma'am, for Heaven's
fellow runs strangely in my head. I believe one sake! tell us what is the matter!
lecture from my grave cousin will make me recall   Mrs. -M. Why, murder's the matter! slaughhim.                                         ter's the matter! killing's the matter!-but he can
Enter JULIA.                 tell you the perpendiculars.
Jul. Do speak, friend.        [ Po DAVID.
Oh, Julia, I am come to you with such an appetite    David. Lookye, my lady —by  the mass,
for consolation! Lud, child! Swhat's the matter there's mischief going on. Folks don't use to
with you' You have been crying! I'll be hanged  meet for amusement with fire arms, firelocks, fire
if that Faulkland has not been tormenting you!  engines, fire screens, fire offices, and the devil
Jul. You mistake the cause of my uneasiness; knows what other crackers beside!-This, my
— omething has flurried me a little. Nothing lady, I say, has an angry favour.-To be sure,
that you can guess at. I would not accuse Faulk- Captain Absoluteland to a sister.                    [Aside.   Jul. But who is engaged.
Lyd. Ah! whatever vexations you may have,   David. My poor master-under favour for
I can assure you mine surpass them. You know  mentioning him first. You know me, my ladywho Beverley proves to be'?                  I am David-and my master of course is, or was,
Jul. I will now own to you, Lydia, that Mr.'squire Acres-and Captain  Absolute.-Then
Faulkland had before informed me of the whole comes'squire Faulkland.
affair.                                         Jul. Do, Ma'am, let us instantly endeavour to
Lyd. So, then, I see I have been deceived by prevent mischief.
every one! but I don't care, I'll never have him.    Mrs. Al. Oh, fie! it would look very inelegant
Jul. Nay, Lydia-                           in us:-we should only participate things.
31*




366                                THE RIVALS.                                     [AcT V.
Lyd. Do, my dear aunt, let us hasten to pre- Sir Lucius, there [Puts himself in an attitude.
vent them.                                     a side-front, hey  Odd, I'll make myself small
David. Ah, do, Mrs. Aunt, save a few lives! enough, I'll stand edgeways.
— they are desperately given, believe me.-Above    Sir L. Now, you're quite out-for if you stand
all, there is that blood-thirsty Philistine, Sir so when I take my aim —    [Levelling at hint.
Lucius O'Trigger.                                Acres. Zounds, Sir Lucius! are you sure it is
Mrs. M'I. Sir Lucius O'Trigger!-O  mercy! not cocked?
have they drawn poor little dear Sir Lucius into    Sir L. Never fear.
the scrape!-Why, how  you stand, girl! you    Acres. But-but-you don't know-it may go
have no more feeling than one of the Derbyshire off of its own head!
putrifactions!.                     Sir L. Pho! be easy. Well, now, if I hit you
Lyd. What are we to do, Madam?              in the body, my bullet has a double chance-for
Mrs. l. Why, fly, with the utmost felicity, to if it misses a vital part of your right side,'twill be
be sure, to prevent mischief!-here, friend-you  very hard if it don't succeed on the left.
can show us the place? Come, Sir, lead the way,   Acres. A vital part!
and we'll precede.                               Sir L. But, there-fix yourself so-[Placing
David. Oh, never fear; and one good thing is, him.] let me see the broadside of your full frontwe shall. find it out by the report of the pistols.   there-now a ball or two may pass clean through
All Ladies. The pistols!- Oh, let us fly.   your body, and never do you any.harm at all.
[Exeunt, DAVID talking.   Acres.: Clean through me! a ball or two clean
SCENE II.-King's-Meadow-fields.          through me!
Sir L. Ay, and it is much the genteelest attiSIR Lucius and ACRES, with Pistols.       tude into the bargain.
Acres. By my valour, then, Sir Lucius, forty    Acres. Lookye! Sir Lucius —I'd just as lieve
yards is a good distance-Odds levels and aims! be shot in an awkward posture as a genteel one
I say, it is a good distance.                  -so, by my valour! I will stand edgeways.
Sir L. It is, for muskets or small field-pieces;   Sir L. [Looking at his Watch.] Sure, they
upon my conscience, Mr. Acres, you must leave don't mean to disappoint us-ha! no,'faith-I
these things to me.  Stay, now-I'll show you. think I see them coming.
[Measures paces along the Stage.] There, now,   Acres. Hey! what! coming!
that is a very pretty distance, a pretty gentleman's   Sir L. Ay, who are those yonder, getting over
distance.                                      the stile?
Acres. Zounds! we might as well fight in a   Acres. There are two of them indeed! wellsentrybox! I tell you, Sir Lucius, the farther he let them come-hey, Sir Lucius!-we-we-we
is off; the cooler I shall take my aim.        we-wont run.
Sir L.'Faith, then, I suppose you would aim    Sir L. Run!
at him best of all if he was out of sight!      Acres. No I say-we wont run, by my valour!
Acres. No, Sir Lucius, but I should think forty,   Sir L. What the devil's the matter with you i
or eight and thirty yards-.                      Acres. Nothing, nothing, my dear friend-my
Sir L. Pho! pho! nonsense! three or four feet dear Sir Lucius-but 1-I-I don't feel quite so
between the mouths of your pistols is as good as bold, somehow, as I did.
a mile.                                          Sir L. O fie! consider your honour.
Acres. Odds bullets, no! by my valour there is   Acres. Ay, true-my honour-do, Sir Lucius,
no merit in killing him so near! Do, my dear Sir edge in a word or two every now and then, about
Lucius, let me bring him down at a long shot: a my honour.
long shot, Sir Lucius, if you love me!'Sir L. Well, here they're coming.  [Looking.
Sir L. Well-the gentleman's friend and I   Acres. Sir Lucius, if 1 wasn't with you I should
must settle that. But tell me now, Mr. Acres, almost think I was afraid: if my valour should
in case of an accident, is there any little will or leave me! valour will come and go.
commission I could execute for you2              Sir L. Then pray keep it fast while you have
Acres. I am much obliged to you, Sir Lucius, it.
but 1 don't understand-:                         Acres. Sir Lucius, I doubt it is going; yes, my
Sir L. Why, you may think there's no being- valour is certainly going; it is sneaking off'! I feel
shot at without a little risk; and, if an unlucky- it oozing out., as it were, at the palms of my hands!
bullet should carry a quietus with it-I say, it   Sir L. Your honour, your honour.  Here they
will be no time then to be bothering you about are.
family matters.                                  Acres. Oh, that I was safe at Clod Hall! oi
Acres. A quietus!                            could be shot before I was aware!
Sir L. For instance, now, if that should be the
case, would you choose to be pickled, and sent
home? or would it be the same to you to lie here    Sir L. Gentlemen, your most obedient; ha!
In the Abbey? I'm told there is very snug lying what, Captain Absolute! so, I suppose, Sir, you
m the Abbey?                                  are come here, just like myself, to do a kind office,
Acres. Pickled! snug lying in the Abbey! first for your friend, then to proceed to business
Odds tremors! Sir Lucius, don t talk so!      on your own account?
Sir L. I suppose, Mr. Acres, you were never   Acres. What, Jack! my dear Jack! my dea.
engaged in an affair of this kind before.      friend!
Acres. No, Sir Lucius, never before.           Capt. A. Harkye, Bob, Beverley's at hand.
Sir L. Ah, that's a pity! there's nothing like    Sir L. Well, Mr. Acres, I don't l-!ame your
being used to a thing.  Pray, now, how would saluting the gentlemancivilly.  So, Mr. Beverley
you receive the gentleman's shot?             [ To FAULKLAND.] if you choose your weapons,
Acres. Odds files! I've practised that — there, the captain and I will measure the ground.




BCENN I.]1                       THE  RIVALS.                                        367
Faulk. My weapons, Sir!                     resign the lady without forcing you to proceed
Acres. Odds life! Sir Lucius, I'm not going to against him?
fight Mr. Faulkland; these are my particular    Capt. A. Come then, Sir, [Draws.] since you
friends!                                     wont let it be an amicable suit, here's my reply.
Sir L. What, Sir, did not you come here to
fight Mir. A~cres                              Enter SIR ANTHONY, DAVID, and the Ladies.
fight Mr. Acres2
Faulk. Not I, upon my word, Sir.              Da-td. Knock'em  all down, sweet Sir AnSir L. Well, now, that's mighty provoking! thony; knock down my master in particular; and
but I hope, Mr. Faulkland, as there are three of bind his hands over to their good behaviour.
us come on purpose for the game, you wont be so    Sir A. Put up, Jack, put up, or I shall be in a
cantanckerous as to spoil the party, by sitting out. frenzy; how came you in a duel, Sir?
Capt. A. Oh, pray, Faulkland, fight, to oblige    Capt. A.'Faith, Sir, that gentleman can tell
Sir Lucius.                                   you better than I;'twas he called on me, and you
Faulk. Nay, if Mr. Acres is so bent on the know, Sir, 1 serve his majesty.
matter.                                         Sir A. Here's a pretty fellow! I catch him goAcres. No, no, Mr. Faulkland, I'll bear my  ing to cut a man's throat, and he tells me he
disappointment like a christian: lookye, Sir Lu- serves his majesty! zounds; sirrah, then how
cius, there's no occasion at all for me to fight; and durst you draw the king's sword against one of
if it is the same to you, I'd as lieve let it alone.    his subjects?
Sir L. Observe me, Mr. Acres; I must not be    Capt. A. Sir, I tell you, that gentleman called
trifled with. You have certainly challenged some- me out, without explaining his reasons.
body, and you came here to fight him. Now, if    Sir A.'Gad, Sir, how came you to call my son
that gentleman is willing to represent him, Ican't out, without explaining your reasons?
see, for my soul, why it isn't just the same    Sir L. Your son, Sir, insulted me in a manner
thing.                                        which my honour could not brook.
Acres. Why, no, Sir Lucius, I tell you,'tis one    Sir A. Zounds, Jack! how durst you insult
Beverley I've challenged; a fellow, you see, that the gentleman in a manner which his honour
dare not show his face: if he were here, I'd make could not brook?
him give up his pretensions directly!           Mrs. AI. Come, come, let's have no honour beCapt. A. Hold, Bob, let me set you right: fore ladies. Captain Absolute, come here; how
there is no such man as Beverley in the case. could you intimidate us so? here's Lydia has been
The person who assumed that name is before you: terrified to death for you.
and as his pretensions are the same in both cha-    Capt. A. For fear I should be killed, or escape,
racters, he is ready to support them in whatever Ma'am 2
way you please.                                 MIrs. M. Nay, no delusions to the past, Lydia
Sir L. Well, this is lucky. Now you have an  is convinced: speak, child.
opportunity-                                    Sir L. With your leave, Ma'am, 1 must put in
Acres. What, quarrel with my dear friend, Jack  a word here; I believe I could interpret the young
Absolute! notif he were fifty Beverleys! Zounds! lady's silence-Now markSir Lucius, you would not have me be so unnatu-   Lyd. What is it you mean, Sir?
ral!                                           Sir L. Come, come, Delia, we must be serious
SirTL. Upon my conscience, Mr. Acres, your now; this is no time for trifling.
valour has oozed away with a vengeance!        Lyd.'Tis true, Sir; and your reproof bids me
Acres. Not in the least; odds backs and abet- offer this gentleman my hand, and solicit the retors! I'll be your second with all my heart, and  turn of his affections.
if you should get a quietus, you may command    Capt. A. Oh, my little angel, say you so? Sir
me entirely. I'll get you snug lying in the Ab- Lucius, I perceive there must be some mistake
bey here; or pickle you, and send you over to  here:-with regard to the affiont which you afBlunderbuss-hall, or any thing of the kind, with  firm I have given.you, I can only say that it could
the greatest pleasure.                        not have been intentional. And as you must be
Sir L. Pho! pho! you are little better than a convinced, that I should not fear to support a real
coward.                                       injury, you shall now see that I am not ashamed
Acres. Mind, gentlemen, he calls me a coward; to atone for an inadvertency; I ask your pardon.
coward was the word, by my valour!           But for this lady, while honoured with her approSir L. Well, Sir?                          bation, I will support my claim against any man
Acres. Lookye, Sir Lucius,'tisn't that I mind  whatever.
the word coward; coward may be said in joke;    Sir L. Well said, Jack, and I'll stand by you,
but if you had called me a poltroon, odds daggers my boy.
and balls-                                      Acres. Mind, I give up all my claim; I make
Sir L. Well, Sir?'                          no pretensions to any thing in the world: and if
Acres. I should have thought you a very ill- I can't get a wife without fighting for her, by my
bred man.                                     valour! I'll live a bachelor.
Sir L. Pho! you are beneath my notice.        Sir L. Captain, give me your hand: an affront
Capt. A. Nay, Sir Lucius, you can't have a handsomely acknowledged becomes an obligation;
better second than my friend Acres. He is a and as for the lady, if she chooses to deny her
most determined dog; called, in the country, own hand-writing here-    [T'akes out letters.
fighting Bob.- He generally kills a man a week;   Ml'rs. 11/1. Oh, he will dissolve my mystery!
don't you, Bob?                               [Aside.] Sir Lucius, perhaps there is some misAcres. Ay,-at home.                         take, perhaps I can illuminateSiir L. Well, then, captain,'tis we must begin;   Sir L. Pray, old gentlewoman, don't interfere
so come out, my little counsellor, [Draws his where you have no business. Miss Languish,
sword.] and ask the gentleman, whether he will are you my Delia, or not 




368                             THE RIVALS.                                    [ACT V.
Lyd. Indeed, Sir Lucius, I am not.         I never interfered before; but let me have a hand
[LYDIA and ABSOLUTE walk aside. in the matter at last. All the faults I have eveMrs. M. Sir Lucius O'Trigger, ungrateful as seen in my friend Faulkland, seemed to proceed
you are, I own the soft impeachment; pardon my from what he calls the delicacy and warmth of
camelion blushes, I am Delia.                his affection for you. There, marry him directly,
Sir L. You Delia 1 pho, pho, be easy.      Julia; you'll find he'll mend surprisingly.
]iMrs. M. Why thou barbarous Vandyke, those                     [The rest come forward.
letters are mine. When you are more sensible    Sir L. Come, now, I hope there is no dissatisof my benignity, perhaps I may be brought to en- fled person hut what is content; for as I have been
courage your addresses.                      disappointed myself, it will be very hard if I have
Sir L. Mrs. Malaprop, I am extremely sensi- not the satisfaction of seeing other people succeed
ble of your condescension; and whether you or betterLucy have put this trick upon me, I am equally   Acres. You are right, Sir Lucius. So, Jack, 1
beholden to you.-And, to show you I am not wish you joy —Mr. Faulkland, the same. Ladies,
ungrateful, Captain Absolute, since you have -come now, to show you I'm neither vexed nor
taken that lady from me, I'll give you my Delia angry, odds tabors and pipes! I'll order the fiddles
into the bargain.                            in half an hour, to the New Rooms-and I insist
Capt. A. I am much obliged to you, Sir Lu- on your all meeting me there.
cius; but here's my friend, fighting Bob, unpro-   Sir A.'Gad! Sir, I like your spirit; and at
vided for.                                   night we single lads will drink a health to the
Sir L. Ha! little valour-here, will you make young couples, and a good husband tb Mrs. Mala.
your fortune?                               prop.
Acres. Odds wrinkles! No.-But give me your   Faulk. Our partners are stolen from us, Jack
hand, Sir Lucius, forget and forgive; but if ever -I hope, to be congratulated by each other-yours
I give you a chance of pickling me again, say Bob for having checked in time the errors of an ill-diAcres is a dunce, that's all.              rected imagination, which might have betrayed an
Sir A. Come, Mrs. Malaprop, don't be cast innocent heart; and mine for having, by her gendown-you are in your bloom yet.              tleness and candour, reformed the unhappy temrn
Mrs. M. 0 Sir Anthony;-men are all bar- per of one, who by it made wretched whom he
barians!                                     loved most, and tortured the heart he ought to
[All retire but JULIA and FAULKLAND. have adored.
Jul. He seems dejected and unhappy-not   Capt. A. True, Faulkland, we have both tasted
sullen:-there was some foundation, however, for the bitters, as well as the sweets of love; with this
the tale he told me-O woman! how true should difference only, that you always prepared the bit..
be your judgment, when your resolution is so ter cup for yourself, while Iweak!                                         Lyd. Was always obliged to me for it, hey!
Faulk. Julia!-how can I sue for what i'so Mr. Modesty! But come, no more of that; our
little deserve? I dare not presume-yet hope is happiness is now as unalloyed as general.
the child of penitence.                        Jul. Then let us study to preserve it so: and
Jul. Oh! Faulkland, you have not been more while hope pictures to us a flattering scene of
faulty in your unkind treatment of me, than I am  happiness, let us deny its pencil those colours!now in wanting inclination to resent it. As my which are too bright to be lasting. When hearts
heart honestly bids me place my weakness to the diffusing happiness would unite their fortunes,
account of love, I should be ungenerous not to virtue would crown them with an unfading garolmit the same plea for yours.              land of modest, hurtless flowers; but ill-judging
[SIR ANTHONY comes forward. passion will force the gaudier rose into the wreath,
Sir A. What's going on here? So you have whose thorn offends most when its leaves are
been quarrelling too, I warrant. —Come, Julia, dropped!




THE DEUCE IS IN HIM:
A RARCE,
IN TWO ACTS.
BY GEORGE COLMAN, EsQ.
REMARKS.
A PARTSAL hint for this piecelwas suggested, to the elegant writer, by the episode of Lindor, In Marmontel F
tales; and the part relative to Mademoiselle Florival, from a story in the British Magazine.
A delicate vein of satire on the absurdities of Platonic love, runs through this laughable and well-written
farce, which originally met with great and deserved success.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
DRURY LANE.                             HAY-MARKET.
COLONEL TAMPER........... Mr. Palmer.........                     Mr. Palmer.
PRATTLE.......................Mr. Baddeley............................Mr. Baddeley.
MAJOR BELFORD,..........Mr. Whifield.......................Mr. Evatt.
EMILY............................Mrs. Goodall..................Mrs. Goodall.
BELL,.................Miss Collins...........Mrs. Taylor.
MADEMOISELLE FLORIVAL,............. Miss Beard.........     Mrs. Heard.
ACT I.                      riage: but he, alas! too much influenced by the
narrow prejudices so common between the two
SCEN1E I. —A Room in EMILY'S House.    nations, forbade the officer his house, but not beEnter EMIL with a letter open in her hand —and  fore we were, by the most solemn engagements,
MADEMOISELLE FLORIVAL in man's clothes.   secretly contracted to each other.
Em. May I ask the officer's name 2
Em. Be assured, that I will do every thing in    Flo. Excuse me, Madam. Till I see or hear
my power to serve you; my brother knew that he from him once more, my prudence, vanity, or call
might command my service-Be comforted, I be- it what you will, will scarce suffer me to mention
seech you, Madam.                             it. Your brother, indeed, is acquainted withPlo. You cannot wonder, Madam, that I should    Em. I beg your pardon-I hope, however, you
be shocked, extremly shocked, at the cruel necessity  have no reason to think yourself neglected or forof appearing before you in so indelicate a disguise. gotten!
Em. Indeed, you need not: there is something    Flo. Oh, no; far from it. He was soon recalled
in your manner, which convinces me, that every by orders from  England: and on my father's
action of your life carries its apology along with  pressing me to consent to another match, my pasit; though I will not venture to inquire into the sion-I blush to own it-transported me so far,
particulars of your story till your mind is more at as to depart abruptly from Belleisle. I came over
ease.                                         in an English ship to Portsmouth, where I exlo. Alas, Madam, it is my interest to make pected according to letters he had contrived to
you acquainted with my story. I am the daughter send me, to find the officer. But, judge of my
of Monsieur Florival, a French physician, in the disappointment, when I learned that he embarked
island of Belleisle. An English officer, who had but three days before for the siege of the Havannah.
been desperately wounded, was, after the capitula-   Em. The Havannah! You touch me nearly
tion, for the sake of due attendance, taken into -pray go on.
my father's house; and as 1, in the very early part   Flo. In a strange kingdom-alone-and a woof my life, had resided in England, he took some man-what could I do? In. order to defeat inquipleasure in my conversation. In a word, he won ries after me, I disguised myself in this habit; and
tny affections, and asked me of my father in mar- mixed with the officers of the place; but your
VOL.I..... 3A                                                             369




370                    THE DEUCE IS IN HIM.                                    [ACT r
brother soon discovered my uneasiness, and saw  at Belleisle, and dying for an English gentleman
through my disguise. I frankly confessed to him  at the Havannah.
every particular of my story: in consequence of   Bell. The Havannah!-Not for Colonel Tamwhich, he has thus generously recommnended me per, 1 hope, sister.
to your protection.':''          Em. If Colonel Tamper had been at the taking
Em. And you may depend on' my-frierndship.   of Belleisle too, I should have been frightened out
-Your situation affects me strangely.       of my wits about it.
Flo. Oh, Madam, it is impossible to tell you    Bell. Suppose I should bring you some news
half its miseries; especially since your brother of him.
has convinced me, that I am so liable to be dis-   Em. Of whom l
covered.                                       Bell. Colonel Tamper.
Em. You shall throw off that dress as soon as   Em. What do you mean 
possible, and then [ will take you into the house'  Bell. Only a card.
with me and my sister-In the meantime, let me   Erm. A card! —From whom? What card?
see you every day-every hour. I shall not be   Bell. Oh, what a delightful flutter it puts her
afraid that your visits will affect my reputation.  into!
Flo. You are too good to me.   [I eeping.   Em. Nay, but tell me.
Em. Nay, this is too much; it overcomes me.   Bell. Well then -while your visitor was here,
Pray, be cheerful.                          there came a card from Major Belford; and I took
Plo. I humbly take my leave.              the liberty of sending an answer to it.
Em. Adieu. I shall expect you to dinner.    Em. Let me see it! Dear Bell, let me see it!
Flo. I shall do myself the honour of waiting    Bell. Oh, it was nothing but his compliments
on you.                              [Exit. and desiring to have the honour of waiting on you
Em. Poor womai!- I thought my uneasiness any time this morning, from Colonel Tamper.
almost insupportable; and yet, how much must  -Erm. From Colonel Tamper!-What can this
her anxiety exceed'mine!                   mean'2-I am ready to sink with fear-Why does
he not come himself?
Bell. He's not arrived-nor come to town yet,
Bell. So, sister! I met your fine gentleman. I suppose.
Upon my word, the young spark must be a fa-   Em. Oh, Bell! I could suppose twenty things
vourite.-You have had a tete-d-tete  of above that terrify me to death.
half an hour together.                         Bell. I think now, such a message ought to put
Em. How d'ye like him.                    you quite out of your pain: he could not conme
Bell. Not at all: a soft lady-like gentleman, from Colonel Tamper, if there was no such person
with a white hand, a mincing step, and a - smooth in being.
chin. Where does this pretty master come from 2.  Em. Ay, but suppose any accident should have
Em. From my brother.                      happened to him! Heaven forbid! How unforBell. Who is he 2                         tunate it is to dote upon a man, whose profession
Em. A present to you.                     exposes him hourly to the risk of his life!
Bell. A present to-me! what d'ye mean?     Bell. Lord, Emily, how can you torment your-.
Em. Why, did not my brother promise to take self with such horrid examinations  Besides,
care of you before he went abroad?          should the worst come to the worst-it is but a
Bell. Well, and what then?                lover lost; and that is a loss easily repaired, you
Enm. What then!:Why, he has taken care of know.
you —sent you a pretty fellow for a husband-   Em. Go, you mad-cap! but you'll pay for all
i ould he possibly take better care of you?'  this one day, I warrant you. When you come
Bell. A husband!-a puppet, a doll, a-    to be heartily in for it yourself, Bell, you will know,
Em. A soldier, Bell!-a red coat, consider.    that when a pure and disinterested passion fills the
Bell. A fine soldier indeed!-I can't bear to see breast, when once a woman has set her heart upon
a red coat cover any thing but a man, sister.- a man, nothing in the world but that very man
Give me a soldier that looks as if he could love will ever make her happy.
me and protect me; ay, and tame me too, if:I   Bell. I admire your setting your heart, as you
deserved it. If 1 was to have this thing- for a call it, of all things. Your love, my dear Emily,
husband, I would set him at the top of my India is not so romantic. You pitch upon a man of
cabinet with the China figures, and bid the maid figure and fortune, handsome, sensible, good-natake care she did not break him.            tured, and well-bred; of rank in life, and credit
Em. Well, well; if this is not the case, I don't in his profession; a man that half the women in
know what my brother will say to you. Here's town would pull caps for; and then you talk, like
his letter; read it, and send him an answer your- a sly prude, of your pure and disinterested pasself.                                       sion.
Bell. [Reads.] Dear sister, — The bearer of this   Em. Why then, I declare, if he had not a friend
letter is-alady!-So, so! your servant, M adam! on earth, or a shilling in the world-if he was as
-and yours too, sister! —whose case is truly miserable as the utmost malice of ill fortune could
compassionate, and whom I most earnestly re- make him, [ would prefer Colonel Tamper to the
commend to your protection,-Um-umn-um-  first duke in the kingdom.
take care of her-Um-um-um-not too many    Bell. Oh, sister, it is a mighty easy thing for
questions-Um-um-um-in town in a few  persons rolling in affluence and a coach-and -six
days.-I'll be whipped, now, if this is not some to talk of living on bread and water, and the
mistress of his.                            comforts of love in a cottage.
Em. No, no, Bell, I know her whole history,-   Et. The coach-and-six, Bell, would give little
It is quite a little novel. She is a Frenchwoman, happiness to those who could not be happy withMademoiselle Florival, run awav from her father out it. When once the heart has settled its affec



scENE I.]                   THE DEUCE IS IN HIM.                                       371
tions, how mean is it to withdraw'them for any life; and these w-ere sacrifices necessary for, its
paltry considerations, of what nature soever!  preservation.
Bell. I think the lady doth protest too much.  Em. Very true. Ay-ay-so as he has but
Em. Ay, but she'll keep her word.           his life, I am happy. And I ought now to be atEnter SERVANT.                 tached to him, not only from tenderness, but comServ.- Major Belford, Madam!               passion.
Em. -Show - him  in-[ —Exit SERVA.NT.] -Oh,  b Belf. After all, Madam, his appearance is much
ell, I am ready to drop with apprehension!!-'better than, you may imagine. His face, by the
am:  eadtor- opRiBELFoRD.:- help of a black ribband, is very little, disfigured;
Enter MAJoR BELFORD.
and he has got a false leg, made so naturally, that,
Belf. Ladies, your humble servant-{[,Salutes except a small hitch in his gait, there is no matethem.] I rejoice to find you so well.         rial alteration in his person and deportmentBell. And. we congratulate you, Major,. on your Besides which, in point of health and spirits, he
safe return from the Havannah-How does your is particularly well.
friend Colonel Tamper do.    Em. I am glad of it-But, alas! he, whose
Belf. He is very well, Madam; but-          person was so charming!-And his eyes, that
Em. But what, Sir-I am  frighted beyond  were so brilliant!-So full~of.sensibility!
expresssion-Is he in England?'         Bel. This accident, Madam, on his own acBelf. Yes, Madam.. count gives him no uneasiness: to say the truth,
Em.. In town?                              he seems rather vain upon it:' I could wish thereBelf. Yes, Madam.                           fore, when he comes, that you would not seem too
Em. Why have not we the pleasure of seeing  deeply affected,.but rather assume an air of cheerhim then?                                    fulness, lest any visible uneasiness in you should
Betf.] He'll: be., here immediately, Madam.  shock the colonel.
Em. Oh, well.                                 Em. Poor colonel! I know his-sensibility. Let
Belf. But it was thought proper that I should  me endeavour, therefore, -to convince him. that he
wait on you first,.to prepare you for his reception.: is as dear to me as ever! Oh, yes, cost me what
Em. To prepare me! What does he mean 2    t will, I must show him, that the preservation of
Be/s. Only to prevent your being alarmed at his life is an entire consolation to me.:his appearance, Mwadam.,
Em. Alarmed! you terrify me more and more                 Enter SERVANT.
-'What is the matter?.                Serv. Colonel Tamper, Madam.
Betf. Nay, nothing-Atrifle-the mere chance   Em. Eh! what!                  [Disordered.
of war, la fortune de la guerre, as the French    Bell. Desire the colonel to walk up-Compose
call it; that's all, Madam.                   yourself; my dear!-Poor Emily!  I am in pain
Em. I'm upon the rack-Dear Sir, explain-, for her.                                 [Aside.
Bef.,.The colonel, you know, Madam, is a man
of spirit.-Having exposed his person very gal-.
lantly in the several actions before the town of   Tam. My dearest Emily!-how  happy am 1
the iavannah, he received many wounds; one, to see you once again! I have brought back the
or two of which have been attended with rather honest heart and hand which I devoted to you:
disagreeable circumstances.  as to the rest of my body, you see 1 did not care
Em. But is the colonel well at present, Sir?;  sixpence what became of it. Miss Bell, 1 rejoice
Belf. Extremely well, Madam..       to see you so well.-Major, I am.yours-but my
Em. Are not the consequences of his wounds Emilylikely to endanger his-life?                   Emn. Oh, colonel!
Belf.: Not in thlle: least, Madam..                  [Bursts into tears; leans upon BELnT
Em. I. am satisfied —Pray; go on, Sir.         Tam. How's this? tears!
Belf. Do not you be alarmed, Madam-           Belt. You should not have followed the major
Em. Keep me no longer in suspense, I beseech  so soon, colonel; she had scarce recovered the first
you, Sir!                                    shock from his intelligence.
-Bell. What can all.this mean.'             Tam. My impatience would suffer me to delay
Be/f. The two principle wounds which the no longer-Why do you weep so, Emily. —:Are
colonel received, Madam, were one a little above you sorry to see me again?
the knee, and another in his face. In consequence    Em. Sorry to see you unfortunate.
-of the first, he was reduced,to the necessity of                                [UWeeping.
saving his life by the loss of a leg; and the latter    Tom. Unfortunate! call me rather fortunate;
has deprived him of -the sight of an eye.     I am come back alive; alive and merry, Emily.
Em. Oh, Heavens!           [Ready to faint.i   Em. I am glad you have saved your life.
Bell. Poor Emily.! How could you be so ab-                                     [ Weeping.
rupt, Sir?. The violent agitation of her mind is    Tam. I dare say you are. Look on'me then;
too much for her spirits.                      what, not one glance! Wont you deign to look
Belf. Excuse me, Madam-I was afraid of mak- on your poor maimed soldier? [Pausing.]-Is it
ing you uneasy; and yet it was necessary you. possible, then, that any alteration of my person
should: be acquainted with these circumstances' can occasion a change in your sentiments?
previous to your-seeing the colonel.             Em. Never, colonel, never: it is surely no mark
Em. [Recovering.] Lost a leg and an arm did of want of affection to be so much hurt at vour
you say, Sir?.                 misfortunes.
Bef. No, not an arm-an eye, Madam.             Tam. Misfortunes! no misforttmnes at allEm. An eye! worse and worse-Poor colonel!; none at all to a soldier-nothing but the ordinary
Belfl Rather unfortunate, to be sure. But we' incidents and common casualties of his life —marks
should.eonsider, Madam, that we have saved. his. of honour-and tokens of valourr —I declare I




372                      THE DEUCE IS IN HI:..                                 [ACT I
wear them about with me as the most honourable   Bef. If she does, it is more than -you deserve,
aedges of my profession.-I am proud of them- I could wish she would give you up with all my
I would not part with this wooden leg for the best heart, if I did not think you would run stark mad
flesh and blood in Christendom.              with vexation.
Em. And can you really be so unconcerned at   Tam; Why so'
this accident'                                Belf. Because, as I have often told you before,
Tam. Really; and you shall be unconcerned this is a most absurd and ridiculous scheme, a
too, Emily. You shall find more in me still, than  mere trick to impose upon yourself, and most proin half the battered rakes and fops about town. bably end in your losing the affections of an amiIt injures me no more than it does a fine tree, to able lady.
lop my branches. My trunk is heart of oak, and    Tam. You know, Belford, there Is an excess
I shall thrive the better for it.            of sensibility in my temperEm. But is there no hope of recovering your   Belf. That will always make you unhappy.
eye again? Oh, we must have the best advice-    Tam. Rather say, it will insure the future hapIs the sight quite lost?                   piness of my life. Before I bind myself to abide
Tam. Quite-blind as a mill-horse-Blind as by a woman at all events, and in all circumstances,
a beetle, Emily-But what does that signify  I must be assured that she will, at all events, and
Love is blind, you know; and if I have lost one in all circumstances, retain her affection for me.
eye, why, they say, I shall see the clearer with   Belf.'Sdeath, I have no patience to hear you.
the other.'                               Have not you all the reason in the world to rest
Ema. I cannot look at him without shuddering. assured, that Emily entertains a most sincere pas[Retires and sits down. sion for you?
Bell. What action was it you suffered in, colo-   Tam. Perhaps so; but then I am not equally
nel1.                                       assured'of the basis on which that passion is
Tam. Before the Mc:o castle, Ma'am, before founded.
the Moro-Hot work, hissing hot, by sea and   Belf. Her folly, I am afraid.
land, I assure you, Ma'am. Ah, the Moro, the    Tam. Nay, but I am serious, major.
Moro!-But if men go to run their heads against   Belf. You are very ridiculous, colonel.
stone-walls, they must expect to have a sconce or   Tam. Well, well; it does not signify talking.
two broken before they make their way through I must be convinced that she loves me for my own
them-Eh, Major?                             sake, for myself alone; and that, were I divested
Bell. Major Belford was with you?        of every desirable gift of fortune and of nature,
Tam. All the while. The major and I fought and she was to be addressed by fifty others who
side by side, cheek by jowl, till I fell, Ma'am! possessed them all in the most eminent' degree,
We paid the Dons-didn't we, major? But she would continue to prefer me to all the rest of
Velasco, poor Velasco! A fine brave Don, must mankind.
be owned-I had rather have died like Velasco,   Belf. Most precious refinement, truly!  This
than have lived to be Generalissimo.        is the most high-flown metaphysics in sentiment
Bell. [To EMILY.] HOW are you, sister'IT ever heard in my life-picked up in one of your
Tam. Nay, pr'ythee, Emily, be comforted! expeditions to the coast of France, I supposemore than all this might have happened to me at No plain Englishman ever dreamed of such a
home. I might have thrown away my life in a whim-Love you for yourself! for your own
duel, or broke my neck in a fox-chace: a fit of sake.!-not she, truly.
the gout, or an apoplexy, might have maimed me    Tam. How then?
ten times worse for ever; or a palsy, perhaps,   Belf. Why, for her own, to be sure-and so
have killed one half of me at a single stroke-  would any body else. I am your friend, and love
You must not take on thus-If you do, I shall you as a friend; and why? because I am glad to
be extremely uneasy.                        have commerce with a man of talents, honour, and
Em. Excuse me, I cannot help it-but be as- honesty. Let me once see you behave like a
sured, I esteem you as much as ever, Sir.   poltroon or a villain, and you know I would cut
Tam. Esteem! and Sir! —This is cold lan- your throat, colonel 
guage-I have not been used to hear you talk in    Tam. I don't doubt you, major; but if she
that style, Emily.                          dont love me for my own sake, for myself, as I
Em. I don't know what I say-I am not well said, how can I ever be certain that she will not
-let me retire.                             transfer that love to another?
Tam. When shall we name the happy day?   Belf. "For your own sake! for yourself,
I shall make shift to dance on that occasion-  again!"-Why what, in the common name of
though as Withrington fought-on my stumps, sense, is this self of yours, that you make such a
Emily. Tell me, when shall we be happy?    rout about?  Your birth, your fortune, your chaEm. I grow more and more faint-Lead me racter, your talents, and perhaps, sweet colonel,
to my chamber, Bell.                        that sweet person of yours —all these may have
Bell. She is very ill-don't tease her now, co]o- taken her-and habitude, and continual internel: but let us try to procure her some repose.   course, must increase her partiality for them in
Tam. Ay, a short sleep and a little reflection, you, more than in any other person. But, af.
and all will be well, I dare say-I will be here ter all, none of these things are yourself. You
again soon, and administer consolation. I warrant are but the ground; and these qualities are woven
you. Adieu, my dear Emily.                   into your frame. Yet it is not the stuff, but the
Em. Adieu.-Oh, Bell!                      richness of the work, that stamps a value on the
[Exit in tears, with BELL. piece.
Tam. [Assuminghisnaturalairandmanner.]    Tam. Why, this is downright sermonizing
Ha, ha, ha!-Well, Belford, what is your opinion major. Give you pudding:sleeves and a grizzI
now? Will she stand the test or no 2        wig, you might be chaplain to the regiment. Yet




SOENEr.]                 THE DEUCE IS IN HIM.                                      373
matrimony is a leap in the dark indeed, if we in the Daily Advertiser  But come, for fear of
cannot beforehand make ourselves at all certain of discovery, we had better decamp for the present,
thefidelity and affection of our wives.      March!
Bef. Marriage is precarious, I grant you, and    Belf. You'll expose yourself confoundedly,
must be so. You may play like a weary gamester, Tamper.'tis true. 1 would not marry a notorious profli-   Tam. -Say no more. I am resolved to put her
gate, nor a woman in a consumption; but there affection to the trial. If she's thorough proof;
Is no more answering for the continuance of her I'm made for ever. Come along.   [Going.
good disposition, than that of her good health.  Belf. Tamper!
Tam. Fine maxims! make use of them your-   Tam. Oh, I am lame-I forgot.  [Limping.
self; they wont serve me. A fine time, indeed,   Belf. Lord, Lord! what a fool self-love makes
to experience a woman's fidelity-after marriage; of a man!                      [Exeunt.
a time when every thing conspires to render it
her interest to deceive you! No, no; no fool's                ACT II.
paradise for me, Belford.
Belf. A fool's paradise is better than a wise-  SCENE I.-EMILY's Dressing-Room.
acre's purgatory.
Tanm.'Sdeath, Belford, who comes here l —I    EMILY, BELL, PRATTLE, sitting on a ofa.
shall be discovered.                           Bell. I think you seem to be a good deal reco[Resuming his counterfeit manner. vered, Emily.
Emn. I am much better than I was, I thank
Enter PRATTLE. 
you —heigh ho!
Prat. Gentlemen. your most obedient; mighty    Prat. Ay, ay, I knew we should be better by
sorry, extremely concerned, to hear the lady.'s and by-These little nervous disorders are very
taken ill-I was sent for in a violent hurry-had  common all over the town-merely owing to the
forty patients to visit —resolved to see her, how- damp weather, which relaxes the tone of the
ever-Major Belford, 1 rejoice to see you in good whole system. The poor Duchess of Porcelain
health-Have Ithe honour of knowing this gentle- has had a fever on her spirits these three weeksman.                    Lady Teaser's case is absolutely hysterical; and
[Pointing to TAMPER and going up to him. Lady Betty Dawdle is almost half mad with lowTccm. Hum, hum!                            ness of spirits, headaches, tremblings, vain fears,
[Limping away from PRATTLE.  and wanderings of the mind.
Be/f. An acquaintance of mine, Mr. Prattle.   Em. Pray, Mr. Prattle, how does poor Miss
You don't know him, I believe-A little hurt in Crompton do.
the service-that's all.                        Prat. Never better, Ma'am. Somebody has
Prat. Accidents, accidents, will happen-No  removed her disorder, by prescribing very effectuless than seven brought into our infirmary yester- ally to the Marquis of Cranford. His intended
day, and ten into the hospital-Did you hear, match with Miss Richman, the hundred thousand
Major Belford, that poor lady Di. Racket broke pound fortune, is quite off; and so, Ma'am, Miss
her arm last night, by an overturn, from  her Crompton is perfectly well again-By the bye
horses taking fright among the vast crowd of too, she has another reason to rejoice: for her
coaches getting in at Lady Thunder's rout: and cousin, Miss Dorothy, who lives with her, and
yesterday morning, Sir Helter Skelter, who is so began, you know, to grow rather old maidish, as
remarkably fond of driving, put out his collar-bone we say, Ma'am, made a sudden conquest of Mr.
by a fall from his own coach-box..           Bumper, a Lancashire gentleman of a great estate,
Tam. Pox on his chattering! I wish he'd be who came up to town for the Christmas; and
gone!                                [Aside. they were married at Miss Crompton's yesterday
Be.f. But your fair patient, Mr. Prattle —I am  evening.
afraid we detain you.                          Bell. Is it true, Mr. Prattle, that Sir John
Prat. Not at all; —I'll attend her immediately Medley is going to the south of France for the
-[Going, returns.] —You have not heard of the recovery of his health.
change in the ministry!                       Prat. Very true, Ma'am, very true that he's
T'am. Psha!                       [Aside. going, I promise you; but not for the recovery of
Belf. I have.                              his health. Sir John's well enough himself-but
Prat. Well, well-[ Going, returns.]-Lady  his affairs are in a galloping consumption, I assure
Sarah Melville brought to-bed within these two you. No less than two executions in his house.
hours-a boy-Gentlemen, your servant, your I heard it for a fact at Lady Modish's. Poor
very humble servant.                 [Exit. gentleman, I have known his chariot stand at
Tam. Chattering jackanapes!               Arthur's till eight o'clock in the morning. He
Belf. So, the apothecary's come already-we has had a sad run a long time; but that last
shall have a consultation of physicians, the affair at Newmarket totally undid him.  Pray,
knocker tied up, and straw laid in the street short- ladies, have you heard the story of Alderman
iy-But are you not ashamed, Tamper, to give her Manchester's lady!
all this uneasiness   -                        Bell. Oh, no. Pray, what is it?
Tam. No matter-I'll make her ample amends   Prat. A terrible story indeed-Eloped from her
at last-What could possess them to send for husband, and went off with Lord John Sprightly.
this blockhead? He'll make her worse and worse Their intention, it seems, was to go over to Ho.-He will absolutely talk her to death.      land; but the Alderman pursued them to HarBelf. Oh, the puppy's in fashion, you know.  wich, and catched them just as they were going
Tam. It is lucky enough the fellow did not to embark. He threatened Lord John with a
know me. He's a downright he-gossip!-and prosecution: but Lord John, who knew the Alany thing he knows might as well be published derman's turn, camedownwith a thousand pounds;
32




374                     THE DEUCE IS IN HIM.                                   [Ai II.
end so the Alderman received his wife, and all is would make a figure at a masked ball. Ha, hi
well again.                                  ha!
Bell. I vow, Mr. Prattle, you are extremely    Em. Bell. Ha, ha, ha!
aJ: using. You know the chit-chat of the whole'  [Looking at each other and afecting to.augn.
tcwn.                                         Prat. Ha, ha, ha! very comical! Ha, ha, ha!
Prat. Can't avoid picking up a few slight anec-   Bell. A frolic, Mr. Prattle, a frolic: I think,
dotes, to be sure, Ma'am-' Go into the best houses however, you'had better not take any notice of it
in town- attend the best families in the kingdom  abroad.
— nobody better received-nobody takes moreM   Prat. Me! I shall never breathe it, Ma'am: I
care-nobody tries to give more satisfaction.  am close as oak-an absolute free-mason for seBell. Is there any public news of any kind, crecy-But,- Ma'am, [Rising.] I must bid you
Mr. Prattle.                                good morning —  have several patients to visit
Prat. None at all, Ma'am-except that the before dinner. Mrs. Tremor, I know, will be
officers are most of them returned from the Ha- dying with the vapours till she sees me; and I am
vannah.                                      to meet Dr. Valerian at Lord Hectic's in less than
Em. So we hear, Sir.                      half an hour.
Prat. I saw Colonel Tamper yesterday. 0,   Em. Ring the bell, my dear-Mr. Prattle, your
ay! and Major Belford, and another gentleman, servant.
as 1 came in here this morning.                Prat. Ladies, your very humble servant. I
Bell. That was Colonel Tamper, Sir.       shall send you a cordial mixture, Ma'am, to be
Prat. That gentleman, Colonel Tamper, taken in any particular faintness, or lowness of
Ma'am!                                      spirits; and some draughts, for morning and
Bell. Yes, Sir.                           evening. Have a care of catching cold, be cauPrat.: Pardon me, Ma am! I know Colonel tious in your diet, and I make no doubt but in a
Tamper very well.-That poor gentleman was few days we shall be perfectly recovered. Ladies,
somewhat disabled-had suffered a little in the your servant: your most obedient, very humble
wars-Colonel Tamper is not so unfortunate.    servant.                            [Exit.
Em. 0 yes, that horrid accident!                    [ The Ladies sit for some time silent.
Prat. What accident?                        Bell. Sister Emily.
Bell. His wounds-his wounds —Don't you    Em. Sister Bell!
Know, Sir?.                                    Bell. What d'ye think of Colonel Tamper
Prat. Wounds, Ma'am!-Upon my word, I now, sister? 
never heard he had received any.               Em. Why I am so provoked, and so pleased;
Bell. No! Why he lost a leg and eye at the so angry, and so diverted; that I don't know
siege of the Havannah.                      whether I should be in or out of humour, at this
Prat. Did he? -Why then, Ma'am, I'll be bold discovery.
to say he is the luckiest man in the world.    Bell. No!-Is it possible you can have so little
Bell:. Why so, Sir?  spirit? This tattling apothecary will tell this fine
Prat. Because, Ma'am, if he lost a leg or an  story at every house he goes into-it will be towneye at the Havannah, they must be grown again, talk-If a lover of mine had attempted to put
or'he has somehow procured others that do the such an impudent deceit upon me, I would never
business every whit as well.                see his face again.
Em. Impossible!                              Em. If you had a lover that you liked, Bell,
Prat. I wish I may die, Ma'am, if the colonel you would not be quite so violent.
had not yesterday two as good legs and fine eyes   Bell. Indeed, but I should. What! to come
as any man in the world. If he lost one of each here with a Canterbury tale of a leg and an eye,
atthe Havannah, we practitioners in physic should and Heaven knows what, merely to try the extent
be much obliged to him to communicate his re- of his power over you-To gratify his inordinate
ceipt, for the benefit of Greenwich and Chelsea  vanity, in case you should retain your affection
hospitals.                                  for him; or to reproach you for your weakness
Em. Are you sure that the colonel has had-no  and infidelity, if you could not reconcile yourself
such loss, Sir?                            to him on that supposition.
Prat. -As sure as that I am here, Ma'am! I   E'm. It is abominably provoking, I own; and
saw him- going into the what-d'ye-call-him am- yet, Bell, it is not a quarter of an'hour ago, but I
bassador's, just over against my house, yesterday; would have parted with half my fortune to have
and the last place I was at this morning was Mrs. made it certain that there was a trick in the
Daylight's, where I heard the colonel was at her story.
route last night, and that every body thought he   Bell. Well, I never knew one of these men of
was rather improved than injured by his late ex- extraordinary sense, as they are called, that was
pedition.  But, odso! Lack-a-day, lack-a-day, not in some instances a greater fool than the rest
lack-a-day!-now I recollect-ha, ha, ha!    of mankind.
[Laughing very heartily.   Em. After all, Bell, I must confess that this
Bell. What's the matter, Mr. Prattle      stratagem has convinced me of the infirmity of
Prat. Excuse' me, ladies; I can't forbear my temper. This supposed accident began to
laughing-ha, ha, ha! —the gentleman in the make strange work with me.
t'other room, Colonel'Tamper! ha, ha, ha!-I    Bell. I saw that plain enough. I told you what
find the colonel had a mind to pay a visit in mas- your pure and disinterested passion, sister, would
querade this morning-I spoke to Major Belford- come to, long ago. Yet this is so flagrant an afI thought I knew his friend too —but he limped front, I would not marry him these seven years.
away and hid his face, and would not speak to   Em. That, perhaps, might be punishing myme.-Upon  my word, he did it very well! I could self, sister.
have sworn there had been an amputation —He    Bell. We must plague him, and heartily too.




SCINE I.]                THE DEUCE ISN NHIM.                                      375
Oh,.f~or a bright thought now, some charming in-   Bell. Oh, you will have but little to do-The
mvention to torment him!                    business will lie chieflyon your: hands, EmilyEm. Oh, as to that matter, I should be glad to You must be most intolerably provoking.- If you
have some comical revenge on'him, with'all my do but irritate him  sufficiently, we shall have
heart.                                       charming sport with him.
Em. Never fear me, Bell'; Mr. Prattle's intelEnter SERVANT.             - - ligence has given me spirits equal to any thing.
Serv. Captain Johnson, Ma'am.   Now I know it is but a trick, I shall scarce be
Em. Desire him to walk up. [Exit SERVANT.] able to see him limping about without laughing.
I am fit to see any company now. This discovery..
will do me more good, I believe, than all Mr.              EnterSERVANT.
Prattle's cordial mixtures, as he calls them.
Bell. Oh, you're in charming spirits, sister-  erv. Colonel Tamper, Madam.NT.]
But Captain Johnson! you abound in the mili-       Show him in  [EitSERVANT]-N
tary, captains, colonels, and majors, by wholesale:-Work  him heartily; cut
Bell. Now, sister!-Work him heartily; cut
whEm. Only the name that Mademoiselle Flo- him to the bone, I charge you. If you show him
Era. Only the name that Mademoiselle Florival, the Belleisle: Lady you saw this morning,     least mercy, you are no woman.
goes by.                                              Enter COLONEL TAMPER.
Bell. Oh, sister,.the luckiest thought in'the
world-such a use to make of this lady.'      am. This is to have l'ew- servants not at
Em.  What d'ye mean- home, indeed!-A. pack of' blockheads, to think
Bell. Captain Johnson shall be Colonel Tam- of denying my Emily to me..I: knew the poor
per's rival, sister!                         dear soul was a little out of order indeed-butEm. Hush! here she is.                     [Sceing FLoRIVAL.]-I beg pardon, Madam! I
Enter MADEMOISELLE FLORIVA L.         did     know you hadcompany
Bell. Oh, this gentleman is a particular friend
Em. Give me leave, Madam, to introduce you of my sister's-he's.let in at any time.
to my sister.                                  Tam. Hum!''.       [Disordered.
Bell. I have heard your story, Madam, and   Em. I did not expect to see you return so soon,
take part in your misfortunes.               Sir! 
Flo. I am infinitely obliged both to you and to    Tam. No; I believe I am come somewhat unthat lady, Madam.'..     expectedly indeed, Madam' 
Em. IOh! Madam, I have been extreinely ill   Em. If your return had not been so extremely
since you was here this morning, and terrified al- precipitate, Sir, I should have sent you a message
most beyond imagination.                     on purpose to prevent your giving yourself that
Flo. I am very sorry to hear it; may I ask trouble.
what has alarmed you''            Tam.: Madam! a message! for what reason?
Em. It is so ridiculous, I scarce know how to.. Em. Because I am-otherwise engaged.
tell you.                                                              [With indifference.
Bell. Then I will. You must know,'Ma'am,.'.Tam. Engaged! I don't apprehend you, Mathat my sister was engaged to an officer, who went dam.'.out on a late military expedition. He is just re-   Em. No; you are extremely dill! then: don't
turned, but is come home with the strangest con- you see I have company? Was you at the opera
ceit that ever filled the brain of a lover. He took it last night, Captain Johnson?''
into his head to try my sister's faith by pretending           [ Coquetting with FLORIVAL.
to be maimed and wounded, and has actually vi-   Tam. I am  thunderstruck. iMaldam! Miss
sited her this morning in a counterfeit character. Emily! Madam!
We have just now detected the imposition, and   Em. Sir!-Colonel Tamper!-Sir;
want your assistance to be pleasantly revenged on    Tam. 1 say, Madam!him.                                          Em. Sir!
Plo. I.cannot bring myself to be an advocate    Tam.'Sdeath, I have not power to speak to
for the lady's cruelty-But you may both corn- her. This strange and sudden alteration in your
mand me in any thing.                       behaviour, MadamEm. There is no cruelty in the case; I fear I' Em. Alteration! none at all, Sir; the change
am gone too far for that. As you are, in appear- is on your side, not mine. I'll be judged by this
ance, such a smart young gentleman, my sister gentleman. Captain Johnson, here's a miniature
has waggishly proposed to make:you the instru- of the colonel, which he sat for just before he
ment of exciting Colonel Tamper's jealousy, by went abroad-done by a good hand, and reckoned
your personating the character of a supposed a striking likenesss. Did you ever see a poor
rival-Was not.that your device, sister?    creature so altered?      [Giving a bracelet..Bell. It was; and if this lady will come into   -'/lo. Why really, Madam, there is, I must own,
it, and you play your part well, we'll tease the a very visible difference at present. That black
wise colonel, and make him sick of his rogueries, riband [Looking by turns on the picture and
I warrant you.                               COLONEL TAMPER ] makes a total eclipse of the
Plo. I have been a mad girl in my time,:I con- brilliancy,of this right eye-and then, the irregufess, and remember when I should have.joined in lar motion of the leg, gives such a twist to the rest
such.a frolic with pleasure. At present,. I fear I of the body, that-''
am scarce mistress enough of my temper to main-  -'Tam. Sir!-But it:is to you I address myself.tain my character with any tolerable humour. at present, Madam. I was once fond and foolish
However, I will summon up all my spirits, and enough to imagine, that you had: a heart truly
do my best, to'oblige you.                   generous and sensible; and flattered myself that
do  my best to'obli~~~~~~~~     generous.      a.




376                      THE DEUCE IS IN HIM.                                  [AOTI 
It was above being shaken by absence, or affected    Tam. You are a villain, Sir I-Withdraw.
by events. How have I been deceived! I find    Bell. Oh heavens! here will be murder-Don't
that —                                       stir, I beg you, Sir.
Em. Pardon me, Sir, [ nevsr deceived you;  PFo. 0 never fear me, Madam; I am not such
nay, you see that I disdained the thought of de- a poltroon as to contend with that gentleman-Do
ceiving you even for a day. Out of respect to our you think I would set my strength and skill
late mutual attachment, I am resolved to deal against a poor blind man, and a cripple? 
openly with you. In a word, then, every thing    Tam. Follow me, Sir; I'll soon teach you to
between us must now be at an end.            use your own legs.
Tam. Confusion!-Every thing at an end!   Flo. Oh, the sturdy beggar! stir your stumps
and can you, you, Emily, have the courage to tell and begone; here's nothing for you, fellow!
me so?                                         Tam. Villain!
Em. Why not?. Come, come, Colonel Tam-   Flo. Poor man!
per, vanity is your blind side.                Tam. Scoundrel!
Tam. Zounds, Madam!                           l Fo. Prithee, man, don't expose yourself.
Em. Don't be in a passion-Do but consider   Tam. Puppy!
the matter calmly; and though it may rather be    lo. Poor wretch!
displeasing, yet when you have duly weighed all   Em. What, quarrel before ladies! Oh, for
circumstances I'm sure you must do me the justice shame, colonel!
to acknowledge my sincerity.                   Tam. This is beyond all sufferance. I can
Tam. I shall run mad-Is it possible, Emily? contain no longer-Know  then, Madam, [To
-Sincerity do you call this?-Dissimulation- EMILY.] to your utter confusion, I am not that
damned dissimulation!                      mangled thing which you imagine me-You may
Em. Have patience, Sir! The loss of your see Madam-  [Resuming his natural manner.
whole fortune would have been trifling to me; but   Em. Bell. Flo. Ha, ha, ha, ha! [Laughing
how can I reconcile myself to this mangling of violently.
your figure i-Let me turn the tables on you for   Em. A wonderful cure of lameness and blinda moment-Suppose now, colonel, that I had been ness-Your case is truly curious, Sir;-and atso unfortunate as to have lost a leg and an eye, tested by three credible witnesses-Will you give
should you, d'ye think, have retained your affection us leave to print it in the public papers?
inviolable for me.                             Tam. Madam, Madam!
Tam. False, false woman! —Have a care,   Flo. I think the story would make a figure in
Emily! have a care I say, or you'll destroy your the Philosophical Transactions.
fame and happiness for ever. Consider what you    Tam. Sir!
are doing, ere you make a final resolution-You'll   Bell. A pretty leg, indeed. Will you dance a
repent your inconstancy, I tell you beforehand- minuet with me, colonel?
upon my soul, you will-you'll have more reason   Em. Your wounds are not mortal, I hope, coto repent it, than you can possibly imagine.  lonel.
Em.'Why will you oblige me now to say    Tam. No, Madam! my person, I thank Heashocking things to you?  It goes against me to ven, is still unhurt. I have my legs, both legs,
tell you so, but I can't even see you now without Madam; and I will use them to transport me as
horror; nay, was 1 even, from a vain point of ho- far as possible from so false a woman — have my
nour, to adhere to my engagements with you, I eyes, too-my eyes, Madam-but they shall never
could never conquer my disgust. It would be a look on you again, but as the most faithless and
most unnatural connection. Would not it, Cap- ungrateful of your sex.
tain Johnson.                                 Em. If I'm not surprised how he could act it
7Tam. Hell!'sdeath! confusion!-How stea- so well! Pray, let us see you do it over again, codily she persists in her perfidy! Madam! Ma- lonel-How was it, eh? [Mimicking.] hip-hopdam!-I shall choke with rage-But one word, hip-hop, like Prince VoIscious, I think.
and I amgone for ever-for for eveor ever, Madam!   Tam. I took that method, Madam, to try your
Em. What would you say, Sir.              truth, constancy, and affection. I have found you
Tam. Tell me then-and tell me truly: have void of all those qualities, and shall have reason
niot you received the addresses of that gentleman? to rejoice at the effect of my experiment as long
Em. He has honoured me with them, I con — as I live.
fess, Sir; and every circumstance is so much in   Em. If you meant to separate yourself from
his favour, that I could have no manner of objec- me, you have indeed taken an excellent. method.
tion to him, but my unfortunate engagements to And a mighty proof you have given of your own
you-But since your ill fortune has invincibly affection, truly! Instead of returning, after an
divorced us from each other, I think I am at 11- anxious absence, with joy into my presence, to
berty to listen to him.                     come home with a low and mean suspicion, with
Tam. Matchless confidence! —Mighty well, a narrow jealousy of mind, when the frankness
Madam!-It is not then the misfortunes that and generosity of my behaviour ought to have
have befallen me, but the charms you have found. engaged you to repose the most unlimited confiin tnat gentleman, which have altered your incli- dence in me!
nation.                                        Tam. The event, Madam, has but well warFlo. Well, Sir! and what then, Sir! the lady, ranted my experiment.
1 presume, is not included, like an old mansion-   Em. And shall justify it, Sir, still more: for
house, in the rent-roll of your estate, or the in- here, before your face, I give my hand to this
ventory of your goods and chattles. Her hand, gentleman;-solemnly declaring, that it shall
I hope, is still her own property, and she may never be in your power to dissolve the connection
bestow it on you or me, or any body else, just as formed between us.
she pleases.                                   Tam. As to you, Madam, your infidelity be




SCBENEr.]                  THE DEUCE IS IN HIM.                                      377
your punishment. But that gentleman shall hear am ruined past redemption-I have behaved most
from me.                                      extravagantly, both to your lady and Emily. I
Flo. I defy you, Sir!                       shall never be able to look them in the face again.
Em. Nothing further remains between us-   Belf. Ay, ay, I foresaw this. Did not I tell
leave me, Sir!                               you that you would expose yourself confoundedly 
Tam. I am gone, Madam! and so help me -However, I'll be an advocate for you-my FloHeaven, never, never to return-      [Going. rival shall be. an advocate for you; and I make. no
doubt but you will be taken into favour again.
Enter MAJOR BELFORD.                 Em. Does he deserve it, major?
Belf. Why, Madam, I can't say much for him
Begl. How! going in a passion?-Hold, Tam- -or myself either, faith —We must rely entirely
per-All in confusion!-I thought so-and came on your goodness.
to set matters to rights again.                 Flo. -He's a true penitent, I see, Madam, and
Flo. What do I see! Major Belford!-Major I'll answer for it, he loves you to excess. Nay,
Belford! oh!                      [Faints. look on him.
Belf. Ha, my name, and fainting? —What   Em. Was it well done, colonel, to cherish a
can this mean? [Runs and takes her in his mean distrust of me? to trifle with the partiality
arms.] By heavens, a woman! May I hope that 1 had shown to you? and to endeavour to give
-Hold, she recovers-It is, it is she! my dear me pain, merely to secure a poor triumph over
Florival herself!-and we shall still be happy.    my weakness to yourself?
Tam. Belford's Belleisle lady, as I live!-My    Tam. I am ashamed to answer you.
rival a woman! I begin to feel myself very ridi-   Bell. Ashamed! and so you well may indeed.
culous.                                          Tam. I see my absurdity; all I wish is to be
Belf. What wonder, my love, has brought you laughed at, and forgiven.
hither, and in this habit?                     Belf. A very reasonable request. Come, Ma-.
Flo. Oh, Sir, I have a long story to relate. At dam, pity the poor fellow, and admit him to your
present, let it suffice to say, that that lady's brother good graces again.
has been the noblest of friends to me; and she   Flo. Let us prevail on you, dear Madam.
herself this morning generously vouchsafed to   Em. Well; now I see he is most heartily moxtake me under her protection.                 tified, I am half inclined to pity him.
Belf. I am bound to them for ever. At my    Tam. Generous Emily!
return I found letters from your father,, who, sup-   Em. Go, you provoking wretch!'tis more than
posing you was in England with me, wrote to you deserve.                      [To TAMPER
acquaint me that he was inconsolable for your   Tam. It shall be the future study of my life to
loss, and that he would consent to our union if I deserve this pardon.-[Kissing her hand.]-Belwould but assure him that you was safe and well. ford, I give you joy-Madam-[ To FLORIVAL.] —The next post shall acquaint him of our good I have behaved so ill to you, I scarce know how
fortune. Well, Tamper, am not I a lucky fellow? to give you joy as I ought.
Tam. Oh, Belfbrd! I am the most miserable   Betf. Come, come, no more of this at presentdog in the world.                             Now we have on all sides ratified the preliminaBelf. What, have you dropped your mask,. ries, let us settle the definitive treaty as soon as
see-you're on your legs again-I met Prattle in we can —VTe have been two lucky fellows, Tamthe street-He stopped his chariot to speak to per-I have been fortunate in finding my mistress,
me about you, and I found that he had blown you and you as fortunate in not losing yours.
up, and discovered to the ladies that you was re-   Tam. So we have, Belford; and I wish every
turned quite unhurt from the Havannah.        brave officer in his majesty's service had secured
Tam. Did that coxcomb betray me?  That to himself such comfortable winter-quarters, as we
accounts for all Emily's behaviour-Oh, major, I have, after a glorious campaign.  [Exeurnt
VOL. I.... 3 B         32




GUSTAVUS VASA:
OR,
THE DELIVERER OF HIS COUNTRY.
AN HZISTO-RIOAL T'RAGEDY,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY HENRY BROOKE, EsQ.
REMARKS.
THis tragedy was accepted at Drury-Lane theatre in 1739, and, during the rehearsals, excited great expecta
tions of success; a prohibitory order from the lord chamberlain, however, deprived the author of his expected
iauiels on the stage, but rendered his production so popular, that, on its publication the same year, not less than
a thousand pounds are said to have been the clear produce. The present ministry allowed its representation in
1805, when Master Betty attempted the character of Gustavus.
The genuine lover of liberty will here meet with those noble principles of action which elevate humanity and
have expanded-the energies of free minds in free countries; but it cannot be concealed, that the play is deficient
in interest, bustle, and incidents for the-prevailing dramatic taste. d The following extract will furnish the plot:" Gustavus I. king of Sweden, known by the name of Gustavus Vasa, was born in 1490.. He was the son of Eric
Vasa, Duke of Gripsholm, and descended from the ancient kings of Sweden. Christiern II. king of Denmark, having
got Gustavus into his hands, in the war, in which he reduced Sweden, kept him several years prisoner at Copen.
hagen. He, at length, made his escape, and having prevailed on the Dalecarlians to throw off the Danish yoke,
he put-himself at their head."-J-Iodern Universal History.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
COVENT GARDEN, 1805.                         COVENT GARDEN, 1805.
GUSTAVUS,..............Master Betty.    MESSENGER........M......... Jefferies.
CHRISTIERN,...................Mr. Murray.     OFFICER...................Mr. Treby.
ARVIDA,.....................Mr. Johnston.
PETERSON,..........Mr. Brunton.    CHRISTINA,........... Mrs. H. Johnston.
LAERTES,.                    Mr. Claremont.  AUGUSTA,................        rs. St. Ledg er.
ANDERSON,........ Mr. Bennett.  GUSTAVA,.......... Miss Brunton.
SIVARD,...................   Mr. Chapman.   MARIANA,.........             Mrs. Humphries.
ARNOLDUS,.Mr. Cresswell.
Soldiers, Peasants, Messengers, and Attendants.
ScENE.-Dalecarlia, a Northern Province in Sweden.
ACT  I.                       Behold him stretchl'd, where reigns eternal night,
The flint his pillow, and cold damps his cov'ring
SCENE.-The inside of the Copper Mines in  Yet, bold of spirit, and robust of limb,
He throws inclemency aside, nor feels
Enter ANDERSON and ARNOLDUS.-GLUsTAVUS  The lot of human frailty.
lying down in the distance.              And. What horrors hang around! the savage
And. You tell me wonders.                                race
Arn. Soft, behold, my lord-                     Ne'er hold their den but where some glimmering
[Points to GUSTAVUS.            ray
378




SCENE i.]                     G U ST.A V U S  V A SA.                                3'79
May bring the cheer of morn-What then is'he  I The truest; worthiest, noblest, cause of friendship'
His dwelling marks a secret in his soul,      Dearer than life,. than interest, or.alliance,
And- whispers somewhat more than man about And equal to your virtues.
him.                                    And. Say-unfold.
Am, Draw but the veil of his apparent wretch-    Gust. Art thou a soldier, a chief lord in Sweden,
edness,                               And yet a stranger to thy country's voice,
And you shall find, his form is but assum'd,   That loudly calls the hidden patriot forth 
To hoard some wondrous treasure, lodg'd within. But what's a soldier'? What's a lord in Sweden?
And. Let him bear up to what thy praises speak  All worth is fled, or fallen-nor has a life
him,                                  Been spar'd, but for dishonour; spar'd to breed
And 1 will win him, spite of his reserve,     More slaves for Denmark, to beget a race
Bind him with sacred friendship to my soul,   Of new-born virgins for th' unsated lust
And make him half myself.                     Of our new masters.-Sweden! thou'rt no more I
Arn.'Tis nobly promised;                   Queen of the North-! thy land of liberty,
For worth is rare, and wants a friend in Sweden; Thy house of heroes, and thy seat of virtues,
And yet I tell thee, in. her age of heroes,   Is now the tomb where thy brave sons lie speechWhen, nursed by freedom, all her sons grew great,     less.
And every peasant was a prince in virtue,       And. 0'tis true.
I greatly err, or this abandon'd stranger     But wherefore?  To what purpose?
Had steppd- the first for fame-though now he    Gust. Think of Stockholm!
seeks                                 When: Christiern seiz'd upon the hour of peace,
To veil his name, and cloud his shine of virtues; And drench'd the hospitable floor with blood;
For there is danger in them.. Then fell the flower of Sweden, mighty names!
And. True, Arnoldus.                        Her hoary senators, and gasping patriots!
Were there a prince throughout the sceptred globe, The tyrant spoke, and his licentious band
Who search'd out merit for-its due preferment,   Of blood-train'd ministry were loos'd to ruin.
With half that care our tyrant seeks it out    Husbands, sons, and sires,
For ruin,-happy, happy were that state,       WVith dying ears drank in the loud despair
Beyond the golden fable of those pure         Of shrieking chastity. Is there a cause for this?
And earliest ages-                            For sin without temptation, calm, cool villany,
When-came this stranger hither?               Deliberate mischief, unimpassion'd lust,
Arm. Six moons have chang'd upon the face of And smiling murder?  Lie thou there, my soul,
night,                                Sleep, sleep upon it, image not-the form
Since here he first arriv d, in servile weeds,.Of any dream but this,'till time grows pregnant,
But yet of mien majestic. I observ'd him,     And thou canst wake to vengeance.
And, ever as I gaz'd, some nameless charm,      And. Thou'st greatly mov'd me.  Ha! thy
A wondrous greatness, not to be conceal'd,:       tears start forth.
Broke through his form, and aw'd my soul before Yes, let.: them flow, our country's fate demands
him.                                          them;
Amid these mines he'earns the hireling's portion;:But wherefore talk of vengeance?'Tis a word
His hands out-toil the hind, while on his brow    Should be engraven on the new-fallen snow,
Sits patience, bath'd in the laborious drop   Where the first beam may melt it from observance.
Of painful industry.-I oft have sought,       Vengeance on C hristiern? Norway and theeDane,
With friendly tender of some worthier service,   The sons of Sweden, all the peopled North,
To win him from his temper; but he shuns      Bend at his nod! my humbler boast of power
All offers, yet declin'd with graceful act,   Meant not to cope with crowns.
Engaging beyond utt'rance; and at eve,           Gust. Then what remains
When all retire to some domestic solace,      Is briefly this: your friendship has my thankls,
He only stays, and, as you see, the earth     But must not my acceptance:-no —Receives him to her dark and cheerless bosom.   First sink, thou baleful mansion, to the centre!
And. Has no. unwary' moment e'er betray'd    And be thy darkness doubled round my head;
The labours of his soul, some fav'rite grief,  Ere I forsake thee for the bliss of paradise,
Whereon to raise conjecture?                 To be enjoy'd beneath a tyrant's sceptre.
Arm. I saw, as some bold peasants-late deplor'd    And. Nor I, while I can hold it; but, alas!
Their country's bondage, sudden passion seiz'd   That is not in our choice.
And bore him from his seeming ease; strait his    Gust. Why? where's that power, whose enWas turn'd to terror, ruin fill'd his eye,            gines are of force
And his proud step appear'd to awe the world:   To bend the: brave and -virtuous  man to slavery?
But sadness soon usurp'd upon his brow,       He' has debauch'd the genius of our country,
And the big tear roll'd graceful down his visage. And rides triumphant, while her. captive.sons
And. Forbear-he rises-Heavens, what ma- Await his nod! the silken slaves of pleasure,
jesty!                               Or fetter'd in their fears.
And.; No doubt, a base submission to our wrongs
GUSTAVUS comes forward.:-May: wellbe term'd a voluntary bondage;'Your pardon, stranger, if the voice of virtue,  But, think, the heavy hand of power is on us;
Ifcordial:amity from man to man,      -       Of power,: from whose imprisonment and chains
And somewhat that should whisper to the soul,   Not all our free-born. virtue can' protect us 
To seek and cheer the: sufferer, led me hither,  Gust.;'Tis there you err, for I have felt their
Impatient to salute thee. Be it thine.force;
Alone to point the path of friendship out;    -And had I yielded to enlarge these limbs,
And my best power shall await upon thv fortunes. Or share the tyrant's'empire, on the term.
Gust. There is a wondrous test,             Which he propos'd-I were a slave indeed.




380                          GUSTAVUS VASA.                                     rAca L
No-in the deep and poisonous damp of dungeons,   Gust. I know they're brave.
The soul can rear her sceptre, smile in anguish, Of such the time has need, of hearts like yours,
And triumph o'er oppression.                 Faithful and firm, of hands inur'd and strong,
And. 0 glorious spirit! think not I am slack   For we must ride upon the neck of danger,
To relish what thy noble scope intends;      And plunge into a purpose big with death.
But then the means, the peril, and the conse-   And. Here let us kneel, and bind us to thy side.
quence!                               Gust. No, hold,-if we want oaths to join us,
Great are the odds, and who shall dare the trial? Swift let us part, from pole to pole asunder.
Gust. I dare.                             A cause like ours is its own sacrament;
O wert thou still that gallant chief,        Truth, justice, reason, love, and liberty,
Whom once I knew! I could unfold a purpose,   Th' eternal links that clasp the world, are in it;
Would make the greatness of thy heart to swell, And he, who breaks their sanction, breaks all
And burst in the conception.                         law,
And. Give it utterance.-You say you know me; And infinite connection.
But give a tongue to such a cause as this,     Am. True, my lord.
And, if you hold me tardy in the call,         And. And such the force I feel.
You know me not.-But thee, I've surely known;   Arv. And I.
For there is somewhat in that voice and form,  Am. And all.
Which has alarm'd my soul to recollection;     Gust. Know, then, that ere our royal Stenon fell,
But,'tis as in a dream, and mocks my reach.  While this my valiant cousin and myself
Gust. Then name the man, whom it is death By chains and treachery lay detained in Denmark,
to know,                            Upon a dark and unsuspected hour
Or, knowing, to conceal-and I am he.         The bloody Christiern sought to take my head.
And. Gustavus! Heavens!'Tis he,'tis he I escap'd,
himself!                            Led by a generous arm, and some time lay
Conceal'd in Denmark; for my forfeit head
Enter ARVIDA, speaking to a SERVANT.     Became the price of crowns, each port and path
Was shut against my passage,'till I heard
Arv. I thank you, friend, he's here, you may  That Stenon, valiant Stenon, fell in battle,
retire.             [Exit SERVANT. And freedom was no more. O then what bounds
And. Good morning to my noble guest, you're Had power to hem the desp'rate? I o'erpass'd them,
early!      [GusTAVUS walks apart. Travers'd all Sweden, thro' ten thousand foes,
Arv. I come to take a short and hasty leave:   Impending perils, and surrounding tongues,'Tis said, that from the mountain's neighb'ring  That from himself inquired Gustavus out.
brow                                 Witness, my country; how I toil'd to wake
The canvass of a thousand tents appears,     Thy sons to liberty! in vain-for fear,
Whitening the vale-Suppose the tyrant there;  Cold fear, had seiz'd on all.-Here last I came
You know my safety lies not in the interview-   And shut me from the sun, whose hateful beams
Ha! What is he, who, in the shreds of slavery,  Serv'd but to show the ruins of my country.
Supports a step, superior to the state       When here, my friends,'twas here at length I
And insolence of ermine?                            found,
- Gust. Sure that voice                    What I had left to look for, gallant spirits,
Was once the voice of friendship and Arvida!   In the rough form of untaught peasantry.
Arv. Ha! Yes-'tis he!-ye powers! it is   And. Indeed they once were brave; our DaleGustavus!                                    carlians
Gust. Thou brother of adoption! In the bond  Have oft been known to curb despotic sway:
Of every virtue wedded to my soul,           And, as their only wealth has been their liberty,
Enter my heart: it is thy property.         From all th' unmeasur'd graspings of ambition
Arv. I'm lost injoy and wondrous circumstance. They've held that gem untouch d-though now
Gust. Yet, wherefore, my Arvida, wherefore'tis fear'dis it,                                 Gust. It is not fear'd - I say, they still shall
rhat, in a place and at a time like this,           hold it.
We should thus meet? Can Christiern cease I've search'd these men, and find them like the soil,
from cruelty.                      Barren without, and to the eye unlovely,
gay,whence is this, my brother? How escap'd you,. But they've their minds within; and this the day,
Did I not leave thee in the Danish dungeon?  In which I mean to prove them.
Arv. Of that hereafter. Let me view thee first.   Arn. 0 Gustavus!
How graceful is the garb of wretchedness,   Most aptly hast thou caught the passing hour,
When worn by virtue! Fashions turn to folly; Upon whose critical and fated hinge
Their colours tarnish, and their pomps grow poor The state of Sweden turns.
To her magnificence.                           Gust. And to this hour
Gust. Yes, my Arvida,                     I've therefore held me in this darksome womb,
Beyond the sweeping of the proudest train   That sends me forth as to a second birth
That shades a monarch's heel, I prize this humble Of freedom, or through death to reach eternity.
dress,                              This day, return'd with every circling year,
For it is sacred to my country's freedom.    In thousands pours the mountain peasants fortlh
A mighty enterprize has been conceiv'd,      Each with his batter'd arms and rusty helm,
And thou art come auspicious to the birth,  In sportive discipline well train'd and prompt
As sent to fix the seal of Heaven upon it.   Against the day of peril-Thus disguised,
Arv. Point but thy purpose-let it be to bleed-  Already have I stirr'd their latent sparks
Gust. Your hands, my friends!              Of slumb'ring virtue, apt as I could wish
All. Our hearts.                           To warm before the lightest breath of liberty




SCENE I.]                    GUSTAVUS VASA.                                        381
Am. How will they kindle, when, confess'd to    Gust. No, on my word.
view,                                 Arv. You too had your deliverer.    [fiiends,
Once more their lov'd Gustavus stands before   Gust. A kind, but not a fair, one-Well, my
them!                               Our cause is ripe, and calls us forth to action.
Arv. It cannot fail.                       Tread ye not lighter?  Swells not every breast
And. It has a glorious aspect.             With ampler scope to take your country in,
Arv. Now, Sweden! rise and re-assert thy rights, And breathe the cause of virtue. Rise, ye
Or be for ever fallen.                               Swedes!
And. Then be it so.                       Rise greatly equal to this hour's importance.
Am. Lead on, thou arm of war,             On us the eyes of future ages wait,
To death or victory.                         And this day's close decides our country's fate.
Gust. Why thus, my friends, thus join'd in                                   [Exeunt.
such a cause,                                         ACT II.
Are we not equal to a host of slaves?                 SCENE I-The Camp.
You say, the foe's at hand-Why, let them come;
Steep are our hills, not easy of access,    Enter CHRISTIERN, Attendants, 4.c. PETERSON
And few the hours we ask for their reception.                meets him.
For I will take these rustic sons of liberty   Christ. What from Dalecarlia?
In the first warmth and hurry of their souls;  Peter. Late last night,
And, should the tyrant then attempt our heights, I sent a trusty slave,
He comes upon his fate.-Arise, thou sun!    And hourly wait some tidings.
Haste, haste to rouse thee to the call of liberty,  Christ. Sure
That shall once more salute thy morning beam,  The wretches will not dare such quick perdition.
And hail thee to thy setting.                I cannot think it.
Arv. Were it not worth a hazard of a life,   Peter. I think they will not.-Though of old
To know if Christiern leads his powers in person,    I know them,
And what his scope intends? Be mine that task. All born to broils, the very sons of tumult;
Even to the tyrant's tent I'll win my way,   Waste is their wealth, and mutiny their birthright,
And mingle with his councils.               LAnd this the yearly fever of their blood,
Gust. Go, my friend.                      Their holiday of war; a day apart,
Dear as thou art, whene'er our country calls,  Torn out from peace, and sacred to rebellion.
Friends, sonA, and sires, should yield their trea- Oft has their battle hung upon the brow
sure up,                            Of yon wild steep, a living cloud of mischiefs,
Nor own a sense beyond the public safety.   Pregnant with plagues, and empty'd on the heads
But, tell me, my Arvida, ere thou goest,     Of many a monarch.
Tell me what hand has made thy friend its debtor,  Enter ARVIDA, guarded, and a GENTLEMAN.
And given thee up to freedom and Gustavus?    Arv. Now, fate I'm caught, and what remains
Arv. Ha! let me think of that,'tis sure she       is obvious.
loves him.                  [Aside.   Gent. A prisoner, good my lord.
Away, thou skance and jaundic'd eye ofjealousy,   Christ. When taken?
That tempts my soul to sicken at perfection;   Gent. Now, even here, before your tent
Away! I will unfold it.-To thyself          I mark'd his careless action, but his eye
Arvida owes his freedom.                     Of studied observation-then his port
Gutst. How, my friend?                   And base attire ill-suiting-I inquir'd,
Arv. Some months are pass'd, since, in the Da- But found he was a stranger.
nish dungeon,                         Christ. A sullen scorn
With care emaciate, and unwholesome damps,   Knits up his brow, and frowns upon our presence.
Sick'ning I lay, chain'd to my flinty bed,  What-ay-thou wouldst be thought a mystery,
And call'd on death to ease me-straight a light  Some greatness in eclipse-whence art thou, slave?
Shone round, as when the ministry of Heaven   Silent! nay, then —bring forth the torture! 
Descends to kneeling saints. But, oh! the form  A smile! damnation!-How the wretch assumes
That pour'd upon my sight.-Ye angels, speak! The wreck of state, the suffering soul of majesty!
For ye alone are like her; or present       What, have we no pre-eminence, no claim?
Such visions pictured to the nightly eye    Dost thou not know thy life is in our power.
Of fancy tranc'd in bliss. She then approach'd,    Arv.'Tis therefore I despise it.
The softest pattern of embodied meekness,      Christ. Matchless insolence!
For pity had divinely touch'd her eye,      What art thou? speak!
And harmoniz'd her motions.-Ah, she cried,    Arv. Be sure, no friend- to thee; for I'm a foe,
Unhappy stranger, art not thou the man,              to tyrants.
Whose virtues have endear'd thee to Gustavus?   Christ. Fiends and fire!Gust. Gustavus, did she say?             A whirlwind tear thee, most audacious traitor.
Arv. Yes.                                   Arv. Do rage and chase, thy wrath's beneath
Loos'd from my bonds, I rose at her command;         me, Christiern.
When, scarce recovering speech, I would have How poor thy power, how empty is thy happiness,
kneel'd,                            When such a wretch, as I appear to be,
But, haste thee, haste thee for thy life, she cried, Can ride thy temper, harrow up thy form,
And oh, if e'er thy envied eyes behold       And stretch thy soul upon the rack of passion!
Thy lov'd Gustavus; say, a gentle foe          Christ. I will know thee!-Bear him hence!
Has given thee to his friendship.            Why, what are kings, if slaves can brave us thus?
Gust. You've much amaz'd me! is her name a Go, Peterson, hold him to the rack-Tear, search
secret?                            Sting him deep.-                       [him,
A rv. To me it is-but you, perhaps, may guess.   [Exit PETERSON with ARVIDA regarded.




3~ 82                        GUSTAVUS VASA.                                    [Axc'r 
Enter a MESSENGER.               Arvida at the sight; his steps took root,
What wouldst thou, fellow'.            A tremor shook him; and his alter'd cheek
Mess. 0, my sovereign lord,                Now sudden flush'd, then fled its wonted colour,
I am come fast and far, from even'till morn,  While with an eager and intemperate look,
Five times I've cross'd the shade of sleepless night, He bent his form, and hung upon her beauties.
Impatient of thy presence.                     Christ. Ha! did our daughter note him?
Christ. Whence'  Peter. No, my lord:
Mess. From Denmark.                       She pass'd regardless. Straight his pride fell fromn
Commended from the consort of thy throne    And at her name he started;            [him
To speed and privacy.                       Then heav'd a sigh, and cast a look to heaven,
Ch rist. Your words would taste of terror-  Of such a mute, yet eloquent, emotion,
il[ess.  A secret malady, my gracious liege,    As seem'd to say-Now, Fate, thou hast prevail'd,
Some factious vapour, rising from off the skirts   And found one way to triumph o'er Arvida!
Of southmost Norway, has diffus'd its bane,    Christ. But whither would this lead?
And rages now within the heart of Denmark.''Peter. To this, my lord —--
Christ. It must not, cannot,'tis impossible! While thus his soul's unseated, shook-by passion,
What, my own Danes!-                       Could we engage him to betray GustavusChrist. 0 empty hope! impossible!
Enter PETERSON, who kneels and gives a -letter. Do I not know him, and the curs'd Gustavus?
CHRISTIERN reads it.            Both fix'd in resolution deep as hell.
Ch rist. Gustavus  Peter. Ah, my liege,
So near us, and in arms!             [time; No mortal: footing treads so firm in virtue,
What's to be done 1 Now, Peterson, now's the As always to abide the slippery path,
Waken all the wondrous statesman in thee.   Nor deviate with the bias. Some have few,
This curs'd Gustavus                        But each man has his failing, some defect,
Invades my shrinking spirits, awes my heart,    Wherein to slide temptation.-Leave him to me.
And sits upon my slumbers-All in vain          Christ. If thou canst bend this proud one to our
Has he been daring and have I been vigilant;        purpose,
He still evades the hunter,                 And make the lion crouch,'tis well-if not,
And, if there's power in heaven or hell, it guards Away at once, and sweep him from remembrance.
him.                                  Peter. Then I must promise deep.
His name's a host, a terror to my legions.    Christ. Ay, any thing; outbid ambition.
And by my triple crown, I swear, Gustavus,    Peter. Love?I'd rather meet all Europe for my foe,         Christ. Ha! yes-our daughter too-if she can
Than see thy face in arms!                          bribe him:
Peter. Be calm, my liege,                 But then to win him to betray his friend!
And listen to a secret big with consequence,  Peter.: Oh, doubt it not, my lord: for if he loves,
That gives thee back the second man on earth   As sure he greatly does, I have a stratagem
Whose valour could plant fears around thy throne: That holds the certainty of fate within it.
Thy prisoner-  Love is a passion whose effects are various.
Christ. What of him?                     It ever brings some change upon the soul,
Peter. The Prince Arvida.                  Some virtue, or some vice,'till then unknown,
Christ. How!                              Degrades the hero, and makes cowards valiant.
Peter. The same.                             Christ. True; when it pours upon a youthful
Christ. My royal fugitive!                        temper,
Peter. Most certain.              [hither. Open and apt to take the torrent in,
Christ. Now, then,'tis plain who sent *him  It owns no limits, no restraint it knows,
Peter. Yes.                    [cross me; But sweeps all down, though Heaven and Hell
Pray give me leave, my lord-a thought comes         oppose.                    [Exeunt.
If so, he must be ours —:         [Pauses.
Your -pardon for a question-Has Arvida  SCENE II.-A Prison.
E'er seen your beauteous daughter,your Christina? ARVIDA discovered in chains; Guards preparing
Christ. Never-yes-possibly he might, that day   instruments of death and torture.-He advances
When the proud pair, Gustavus and Arvida,.    in confusion.
Through Copenhagen drew a length of chain,nce, ye conflicting
Arv. Off, off vain cumbrance, ye conflicting
And graced my chariot wheels.-But why thethoughts!
thoughts.!
question?                          Leave me to Heaven.-O peace -It will not bePeter. I'll tell you: while even: now he stood  Just when I rose above mortality,
before us,.        To pour her wondrous weight of charms upon me!
[mark'd his high demeanour, and my eye                 
C.imd Xs   r..emembranceof him, thoughin At such a time, it was —it was too much-!Claim'd some remembrance of him,:though in
clouds    r    e     m    e m          For every pang these tortur'd limbs shall feel,
Descend in tenfold blessings on Gustavus! [joy,
Doubtful and distant, but a nearer view     Yes, bless him, bless him! Crown his hours with
Renew'd the characters effac'd by absence.
lRenew'dt he cighapractersumeffad    abiencp    His head with glory, and his arms with conquest;
Yet, lest he might presume upon a friendship    Set his firm foot upon the neck of tyrants,
Of ancient league between us, I dissembled, And be his name the balm of every lip
Nor seem'd to know him. On he proudly strode, That breathes through  Sweden! Worthiest to be
As who should say,-back, fortune, know thy          styled                      rkine
styled                       [king
Thus steadily stance pass'd and mock'd his fate.    Their friend, their chief, their father, and thel
Thus steadily he pass'd, and mock'd his fate.
When, lo! the princess to her morning walk                Enter PETERSON.
Came forth attended. Quick amazement seiz'd    Peter. Unbind your prisoner.




SCENE III.]                  GUSTAVUS  VASA.                                       383
Arv. How!                                 And youthful smile of nature; form'd for joys
Peter. You have your liberty,              Unknown to mortals. You seem indispos'd.
And may depart unquestion d.                   Arv. The crime of constitution-Oh Gustavus!
Arv. Do not mock me.                                                            [Aside,
It is not to be thought, while power remains,  This is too much!-And think you then, my lord —
That Christiern wants a reason to be cruel.  What, will the royal Christiern e'er consent
But let him know, I would not be oblig'd.    To match his daughter with his deadliest foe 3
He, who accepts the favours of a tyrant,       Peter. What should he do 2 War else must
Shares in his guilt; they leave a stain behind them.  be eternal.
Peter. You wrong the native temper: of his' Besides, some rumours from his Danish realms
soul;                                Make peace essential here.
Cruel of force, but never of election;         Arv. Yes, peace has sweets
Prudence compell'd him to a show of tyranny-;   That Hybla never knew; it sleeps on down,,
Howe'er, those politics are now no-more-     Cull'd gently from beneath the cherub's wings;.
And mercy in her turn shall shine on Sweden.  -No bed for mortals —Man is warfare.-All
Arv. Indeed! it were a strange, a bless'd reverse, A hurricane within; yet friendship stoops,
Devoutly to be wish'd: but then, the cause,  And gilds the gloom with falsehood  -Undone!
The cause, my lord, must surely be uncommon.         undone Arvida!-          -
May I presume   -                              Peter. Is't possible, my lord! the prince ArPerhaps a secret?                                   vida! My friend!    [Embraces him.
Peter. No-or, if it were,                    Arv. Confusion to the name!        Turns.
The boldness of thy spirit claims respect,     Peter. Why this, good Heaven. And whereAnd should be -answered.-Know, the only man,         fore thus disguis'd 3
In whom our monarch ever knew repulse,  -      Arv. Yes, that accomplish'd traitor, that GusIs now our friend; that terror of the field,  i      tavus;
Th' invincible Gustavus.                     WVhile he sat planning private scenes of happiness,
Artv. Ha! Friend to Christiern 3-Guard thy- Oh, well dissembled! he he sent me hither;
self, my heart!                     My friendly, unsuspecting heart a sacrifice;
Nor seem- to take alarm-[Aside.]-Why,' -good To make death sure, and rid.him of a. rival.
my lord,'         Peter. A rival! Do you then love Christiern's
What terror is there in a wretch proscrib'd,         daughter 3
Naked of means, and distant as Gustavus?      Arv. Name her not, Peterson, since she can't
Peter. There you mistake-Nor knew we, till         be mine:
this hour,                          Gustavus! how, ah! how hast thou deceiv'd me!
The danger was so near.-From yonder hill   Who could have look'd fir falsehood from thy
He sends proposals, back'd with all the powers       brow,
Of Dalecarlia, those licentious resolutes,   Whose heavenly arch was as the throne of virtue!
Who, having nought to hazard in the wreck,    Thy eye appear'd a sun, to cheer the world;
Are ever foremost to foment a storm.         Thy bosom truth's fair palace, and thy arms,
Arv. I were too bold to question on the terms. Benevolent, the harbour for mankind.
Peter. No-trust me, valiant man, whoe'er   Peter. What's to be done.2   Believe me, vathou art,                                   liant prince,
I would do much to win a worth like thine,   I know not which most sways me to thy interests,
By any act of service, or of confidence.-    My love to thee, or hatred to Gustavus.
The terms Gustavus claims, indeed are haughty;:  Arv. Would you then save me 3 Think, conThe freedom of his mother, and.his sister,          trive it quickly!        [vengeance,
His forfeit province, Gothland, and the isles  Lend me your troops-by all the powers of
Submitted to his sceptre-But the league,     Myself will face this terror of the North,
The bond of amity and lasting friendship,    This son of fame-this-O, Gustavus-What 1
Is, that he claims Christina for his bride.-  Where had I wander'd! Stab my bleeding country!
You start, and seem surpris'd.              Save, shield me from that thought!
Arv. A sudden pain                          Peter. Retire, my lord;
Just struck athwart my breast.-But say, my lord, For, see, the princess comes!
I thought you nam'd Christina                  Arv. Where, where  
Peter. Yes.             -                 Ha! Yes, she comes indeed! her beauties drive
Arv. 0 torture!                   [Aside.'Time, place, and truth, and circumstance before
What of her, my good lord?                          them!
Peter. I said, Gustavus claim'd her for his bride;. Perdition pleases there-pull —tear me from her!
Arv. His bride!'his wife!               Yet must I gaze-but one-but one look more,
You did not mean his wife 3-Do fiends feel this? And I were lost for ever.    [Exeunt.
SCENE  III —An Apartment in CHRISTIERN'S
Down, heart, nor tell thy anguish.-Pray excuse.-An Apart t 
Palace.
me
Did you not say, the princess was his wife'       Enter CHRISTINA and MARIANA.
Whose wife, my lord                            Christina. Forbid it, shame! Forbid it, virgin
Peter. I did not say what was, but what must be.   modesty!
Arv. Touching Gustavus, was it not?       No, no, my friend, Gustavus ne'er shall know it.
Peter. The same.                           O! I am overpaid with conscious pleasure:
Arv. His bride!                           The sense but to have sav'd that wondrous man,
Peter. I say his bride, his wife; his lov'd Is still a smiling cherub in my breast,
Christina!                          And whispers peace within.     [consequence,
Christina, fancied in the very prime           Mar.'Tis strange, a man, of his high note and




384                          GUSTAVUS VASA.                                   [ACT IIL
Should so evade the busy search of thousands;   I heard it all; your cruel, cruel father,
That six long months have shut him from inquiry, Has sold you, given you up a spoil to treason,
And not an eye can trace him to his covert.  The purchase of the noblest blood on earthChristina. Once'twas not so; each infant Gustavus!
lisp'd, Gustavus!                     Christina. Ah! What of him? Where, where
It was the favourite name of every language.        is he?
His slightest motions fill'd the world with tidings;   Laer. In Dalecarlia, on some great design,
Wak'd he, or slept, fame watch'd th' important Doom'd in an hour to fall by faithless hands:
hour,                                His friend, the brave, the false, deceiv'd Arvlda,
And nations told it round.                   Even now prepares to lead a band of ruffians
AMar. Madam, I've heard, that when         Beneath the winding covert of the hill,
Gustavus lay detain'd in Denmark,            And seize Gustavus, obvious to the snares
Your royal father sought the hero's friendship,   Of friendship's fair dissemblance. And your fatheAnd offer'd ample terms of peace and amity.  Has vow'd your beauties to Arvida's arms,
Christina. He did: he offer'd that, my Mariana, The purchase of his falsehood.
For which contending monarchs sued in vain;    Christina. Shield me, Heaven!
He offer'd me, his darling, his Christina;   Is there no let, no means of quick prevention?
But I was slighted, slighted by a captive,     Laer, Behold my life, still chain'd to thy direcThough kingdoms swell'd my dower.            My will shall have a wing for every word [tion;
Mar. Amazement fix me!                     That breathes thy mandate.
Rejected by Gustavus!                          Christina. Will you, good Laertes?
Christina. Yes, Mariana; —but rejected nobly. Alas! I fear to overtask thy friendship.
Not worlds could win him to betray his country! Say, will you save me then-Oh, go, haste, fly!
Had he consented, I had then despis'd him.   Acquaint Gustavus-if, ifhe must fall,
What's all the gaudy glitter of a crown?    Let hosts that hem this single lion in,
What, but the glaring meteor of ambition,    Let nations hunt him down-let him fall nobly.
That leads a wretch benighted in his errors,   Laer. I go, and Heaven direct me to him.
Points to the gulf, and shines upon destruction.                                   [Exit.
Mar. You wrong your charms, whose power   Christina. Ye powers! if deaf to all the vows I
might reconcile                     Yet shield Gustavus, for Gustavus' sake; [make,
Things opposite in Nature-Had he seen you? Protect his virtues from a faithless foe,
Christina. I'll tell thee-Yet while inexpert And save your only image left below. [Exeunt.
of years,
I heard of bloody spoils, the waste of war,                   ACT III.
And dire conflicting man; Gustavus' name         SCENE I. —Mountains of Dalecarlia.
Superior rose, still dreadful in the tale:   Enter GusTAvus as a peasant; SIVARD and Do-,
Then first he seiz'd my infancy of soul,                 lecarlians following.
As somewhat fabled of gigantic fierceness,
Too huge for any form; he scar'd my sleep,    Gust. Ye men of Sweden,wherefore are ye come
And fill'd my young idea. Not the boast      See ye not yonder, how the locusts swarm,
Of all his virtues (graces only known        To drink the fountains of your honour up,
To him and heavenly natures!) could erase   And leave your hills a desert?-Wretched men!
The strong impression,'till that wondrous day   Why came ye forth? Is this a time for sport?
In which he met my eyes.                     Or are ye met with song and jovial feast, [ants?
What then was my amazement! he was chain'd: To welcome your new guests, your Danish visitWas chain'd! Like the robes                  To stretch your supple necks beneath their feet,
Of coronation, worn by youthful kings,       And fawning, lick the dust?-Go, go my countryHe drew his shackles. The Herculean nerve            men,
Brac'd his young arm; and, soften'd in his cheek, Each to your several mansions, trim them out
Lived more than woman's sweetness! Then his Cull all the tedious earnings of your toil,  [ters,
eye!                                To purchase bondage.-Bid your blooming daughHis mien! his native dignity! He look'd,   And your chaste wives, to spread their beds with
As though he had captivity in chains.                softness;
And we were slaves around.                   Then go ye forth, and with your proper hands
Mar. Did he observe you.                 Conduct your masters in; conduct the sons
Christina. He did: for, as I trembled, look'd, Of lust and violation-O, Swedes! Swedes!
and sigh'd,                         Heavens! are ye men, and will ye suffer this?
His eyes met mine; he fix'd their glories on me. There was a time, my friends, a glorious time!
Confusion thrill'd me then, and secret joy,  When, had a single man of your forefathers
Fast throbbing, stole its treasures from my heart, Upon the frontier met a host inarms
And, mantling upward, turn'd my face to crimson. His courage scarce had turn'd; himself had stood,
I wish'd-but did not dare to look-he gaz'd;    Alone had stood, the bulwark of his country.
When sudden, as by force, he turn'd away,   Come, come ye on then. Here I take my stand!
And would no more behold me.                 Here on the brink, the very verge, of liberty;
Although contention rise upon the clouds,
Enter LAERTES                 Mix heaven with earth, and roll the ruin onward,
Here will I fix, and breast me to the shock,
Laer. Ah, bright imperial maid! my royal Till I or Denmark fall.
mistress!                              Siv. And who art thou,
Christina. What wouldst thou say?  Thy  That thus wouldst swallow all the glory up,
looks speak terror to me.            That should redeem the times 1 Behold this breast,
Laer Oh, you are ruin'd, sacrific'd, undone!  The sword has till'd it; and the stripes of slaves




SCEN III.]                   GUSTAVUS VASA.                                        385
Shall ne'er trace honour here; shall never blot   As best might thank him.-But from that bless'd
The fair inscription.-Never shall the cords          dav
Of Danish insolence bind down these arms,    I never saw him more-yet still to this,
Thlat bore my royal master from the field.   I bow, as to the relics of my saint:
Gust. Ha! Say you, brother? Were you there. — Each morn I drop a tear on every bead,
Oh, grief!                          Count all the glories of Gustavus o'er,
Where liberty and Stenon fell together.     And think I still behold him.
Siv. Yes, I was there.-A bloody field it was,   Gust. Rightly thought;
Where conquest gasp'd, and wanted breath to tell For so thou dost, my soldier.
Its o'er-toil'd triumph. There our bleeding king, Behold your general,
Tllere Stenon on this bosom made his bed,    Gustavus! come once more to lead you on
And, rolling back his dying eyes upon me,    To laurel'd victory, to fame, to freedom!
Soldier, he cried, if e'er it be thy lot       Siv. Strike me, ye powers!-It is illusion all!
To see my gallant cousin, great Gustavus,   It cannot-It is, it is!
Tell him-for once, that I have fought like him,              [Falls and embraces his knees
And would like him have-                       Gust. Oh, speechless eloquence!
Conquer'd.                                   Rise to my arms, my friend.
Gust. Oh, Danes! Danes!                     Siv. Friend! say you, friend?
You shall weep blood for this. Shall they not, 0, my heart's lord! my conqueror! mybrother?  Gust. Approach, my fellow soldiers, your GusYeswe will deal our might with thrifty vengeance, Claims no precedence here.      [tavus
A life for every blow, and, when we fall,    Haste, brave men!
There shall be weight in't; like the tott'ring Collect your friends, to join us on the instant;
That draw contiguous ruin.          [towers, Summon our brethren to their share of conquest,
Siv. Brave, brave man!                     And let loud echo, from her circling hills,
My soul admires thee.-By my father's spirit,   Sound freedom, till the undulation shake
[ would not barter such a death as this      The bounds of utmost Sweden.
For immortality!- Nor we alone-                           [Exeunt Dalecarlians, shouting
Here be the trusty gleanings of that field,
Where last we fought for freedom; here's rich             Enter LAERTES.
poverty,                    [nions;    Laer. Thy presence nobly speaks the man 1
Though wrapp'd in rags, my fifty brave compa-        wish, Gustavus.
Who through the force of fifteen thousand foes  Gust. Thou hast a hostile garb;
Bore off their king, and sav'd his great remains. Ha! say-art thou Laertes. If I err not,
Gust. Why, captain,                       There is a friendly semblance in that face,
We could but die alone, with these we'll conquer. Which answers to a fond impression here,
My fellow lab'rers to-What say ye, friends?  And tells me I'm thy debtorShall we not strike for't?                   Laer. No, valiant prince, you over-rate nmy
Siv. Death! Victory or death!                    service;
All. No bonds! no bonds!                There is a worthier object of your gratitude,
Am. Spoke like yourselves.-Ye men of Dale- Whom yet you know not.-Oh, I have to tellcarlia,                             But then, to gain your credit, must unfold
Brave men and bold! Whom every future age   What haply should be secret. — Be it so;
Shall mark for wondrous deeds, achievements won You are all honour.
From honour's dangerous summit, warriors all!    Gust. Let me to thy mind,
Say, might ye choose a chief-                For thou hast wak'd my soul into a thought
Speak, name the man,                        That holds me all attention.
Who then should meet your wish?              Laer. Mightiest man!
Siv. Forbear the theme.           [weight To me alone you held yourself oblig'd'vVy   wouldst thou seek to sink us with the For life and liberty. —Had it been so,
Of grievous recollection? Oh, Gustavus!    I were more bless'd, with retribution just
Could the dead wake, thou wert the man.     To pay thee for my own.-For on the day
Gust. Didst thou know Gustavus.    When by your arm the mighty Thraces fell,
Siv. Know him! Oh, Heaven! what else, Fate threw me to your sword.-You spar'd me
who else was worth                  And, in the very whirl and rage of fight, [youth.
The knowledge of a soldier?  That great day,   Your eye was taught compassion-from that hour
When Christiern, in his third attempt on Sweden, I vow'd my life the slave of your remembrance;
Had summ'd his powers, and weigh'd the scale And often as Christina, heavenly maid!
of fight;                           The mistress of my service, question'd me
On: the bold brink, the very push of conquest,   Of wars and vent'rous deeds, my tidings came
Gustavus rush'd, and bore the battle down;   Still freighted with thy name, until the day
In his full sway of prowess, like Leviathan  In which yourself appear'd, to make praise speech
That scoops his foaming progress on the main,   Christina saw you then, and on your fate  [less.
And drives the shoals alone-forward I sprung,  Dropp'd a kind tear; and, when your noble scorrn
All emulous, and lab'ring to attend him;     Of proffer'd terms provok'd her father's rage
Fear fled before, behind him rout grew loud,  To take the deadly forfeit, she she only,
And distant wonder gaz'd.-At length he turn'd, Whose virtues watch'd the precious h(our,if
And having eyed me with a wondrous look [ble!       mercy,
Of sweetness mix'd with glory- Grace inestima- All trembling, sent my secret hand to save you
He pluck'd this bracelet from hisconquering arm, Where, through a pass unknown to all vY4i'
And bound it here.-My wrist seem'd treble nerv'd:    keepers,
My heart spoke to him, and I did such deeds    I led you forth and gave you to your liberty
VoL. I.... 3C      33




~'t#6                        GU STAVUS  VASA.                                 [ACT Ill.
Gist. Oh, I'am sunk, oyerwhelm'd with won- I know thy error, but I know the arts,drous goodness,                      The frauds, the wiles, that practis'd on, thy virtue,
But were I rich and -free as open mines:   ~  Firm how you stood, and tower'd above mortality;
That teem their go'lden wealth upon the world,   Till, in -the fond unguarded hour of love,
Still I were poor, unequal to her bounty.    The wily undermining: tempter came,
Nor can I longer doubt, whose generous arm, ~  And won thee from thyself-a moment won theeIn my Arvida, in my friend's deliverance,    For still thou art Arvida, still the man 
Gave double life and freedom to Gustavus.-   On whom thy country calls for. her deliverance.
Laer. A fatal present! Ah, you know him:not;i Already are her bravest sons in arms;  [Shout.
Arvida is misled; undone by passion;-        Mark how they shout, impatient of our presence,
False to your friendship, to your trust unfaithful. To lead them on. to a new life of liberty,
Gust. Ha! hold!                          To name, to conquest.-Ha! Heaven guard my
Laet.:I- must unfold -it.                         brother!
Gust. Yet forbear.                         Thy cheek turns pale, thy eye looks wild upon me;
This way —I hear some footing-pray you, soft —  Wilt thou not: answer me Q
If thou hast aught to urge against:Arvida,'':  Arv. Gustavus! —
The man of virtue, tell it not the wind;..     Gust. Speak.
L.est slander catch' the sound, and guilt should    Arv. Have I not dream'd?
--- triumph                   [Exeunt.   Gust. No other I esteem it.
ENE I-Mountains o Dalecarlia.  Where lives the man, whose reason slumbers not?
Still pure, still bla'meless, if, at wonted dawn,
Enter AILVIDA, speaking to a MESSENGER.-  Again he wakes to virtue.
Arv. HeI's here -bear back my orders to your   Arv. Oh, my dawn
That not -a man, on peril of his life,   [fellows, Must soon be dark. Confusion dissipates,
Advance in sight'till call'd.               To leave me worse confounded.
Mess. My lord, I will.-            [xit.   Gust. Think no more on't..Arv. Have I not vow'd it, faithless as he is,    Come to my arms, thou dearest of mankind!
Have I not vow'd his fall? Yet, good Heaven!   Arv. Stand off! Pollution dwells within my
Why start these sudden tears 1. On, on I must,       touch,
For I am half way down the dizzy steep, [now-  And horror hangs around me.-Cruel man!
Where my brain turns.-A draught of Lethe Oh, thou hast doubly damn'd me with this goodOh, that the world would sleep-to wake no more! For resolution held the deed as done,    [ness;
Or that the name of friendship bore no charm  That now must sink me.-Hark! I'm summon'd
To make my nerve unsteady, and this steel-           hence,
Fly backward from its task! it shall be done.-   My audit opens! Poise me! for I stand
Empire! Christina! though th' affrighted sun    Upon a spire, against whose sightless base
Start back with horror of the direful stroke,  Hell breaks his wave beneath. Down, down I
It shall be done.: Ha! he comes!                    dare not,
How steadily he looks, as Heaven's own book,   And up I cannot look, for justice fronts me.The leaf of truth, were open'd on his aspect!  Thou shalt have vengeance; though my purpling
Up, up dark' minister-his fate calls out             blood
[Puts up the dagger. Were nectar for Heaven's bowl, as warm and rich,
To nobler execution; for he comes            As now'tis base, it thus shouid pour fOr pardon.
in opposition, singly, man to man,
Aosi though he bravs d mny wish. m               [GusTAvus catches his arm, and in the strugAs though he brav'd my wish.
gle the dagger falls.
Enter GUST AUS.  GUSt. Ha! hold, Arvida.-No, I will not lose
theer They look for some-time on each other; ARThey laooksr some time on each other; a- Forbid it, Heaven! thou shalt not rob me so;
VIDA lays his hand on his Sword, and
withdraws it by turns; then advances i  I will struggle with thee to the last,
resolutely.]                          And save thee from thyself. Oh, answer me!
Wilt thou forsake me? Answer me, my brother.
Gust. Is it then so?                       Arv. Expose me, cage me, brand me for the tool
Arv. Defend thyself                       Of crafted villains, for the veriest slave,
Gust. No —strike-                         On whom the bend of each contemptuous brow
I would unfold my bosom to thy sword,       Shall look with loathing. Ah, my turpitude
But that I know,. the wound you give this breast Shall be the vile comparative of knaves
Would doubly pierce thy own.                To boast and whiten by!
Arv. I know thee not-                        Gust. Not so, not so.
It is the time's eclipse, and what should be  He, who knows no fault, knows no perfection.
hi' nature, now is nameless.                 The rectitude, that Heaven appoints to man,
Gust. Ah, my brother!                    Leads on through error; and the kindly sense
Arr What wouldst thou?  Of having stray'd, endears the road to bliss;
Gust. Is it thus we two should meet 1     It mnakes Heaven's way more pleasing! 0 my
Arv. Art thou not false? Deep else, oh, deep'Tis hence a thousand cordial charities [brother,
Were my damnation.                  [indeed, Derive their growth. their vigour, and their
Gust. Dear, unhappy man!                          sweetness.
My heart bleeds for thee. False I'd surely been,  This short lapse
Had I like thee been tempted.                Shall to thy future foot give cautious treading,
Arv. Ha! Speak, speak,                     Erect and firm in virtue.
I)idst thou not send to treat with Christiern?  Arv. Give me leave.      [Offers to pass
Gust. Never.                                 Gust. You shall not pass.




SCENEI.].GUSTAVUS VARSA.                                        387
Ar. I' must.                                Upborne by thee, my soul disdain'd the terms
Gust. Whither.                   Of empire —are ye. not at the hands of tyrants.
Arv. I know not-O (Gustavus.!              Are ye not mark'd, ye men of Dalecarlia,
Gust. Speak.                                Are ye not mark'd by all the circling world
Ar'. You can't forgive me.                  As the last stake; what but liberty,     [years,
Gust. Not forgive thee!                     Through the fam'd course of thirteen hundred
Arv.'                  No:'' -:. No:    Aloof hath held invasion from your hills,
Look there.            [Points to the Dagger. And sanctified their shame'?'-And will ye; will ye
And yet, when I resolv'd to kill thee, S. hrink.from the hopes of the expecting world;
I could have died-indeed I could-fior thee,   Bid your high honours stoop to foreign insult,
I could'have' died, Gustavus!'' And in one hour give up to infamy
Gust. Oh, I knowit.               [passion, The-harvest of.a thousand years of glory.
A; gefnerous mind, though sway'd a while by    And. Die all first!
Is like'the steely vigour of the bow,           Gust. Yes die by piecemeal...
Stis iierctoldsistiverectitude, and bends -   Leave not a limb o'er which a Dane.'may triumph
But to recoil more forceful. Come, forget it.  Now from my soul 1 joy, I joy my friends,
To see ye fear'd; to see, that even your foes::  Enter SIVARD.                 Do justice to your valour -!-There they be,
Sirv. My lord, as now I pass'l the mountain's The powers of kingdoms, summ'd in yonder host,
brow,                                 Yet kept aloof, yet trembling to assail ye.
I spy'd some men, whose arms, and strange attire, And, oh, when I look round and see you here,
Give cause for circumspection.               Of number short, but prevalent in virtue,
Gust. Danes, perhaps;    -.          My heart swells high, and burns for the encounter.
Haste, intercept their passage to the camp.   True courage but from opposition grows;
[Exit IVARD. And what are fifty, what a thousand slaves,
Arv. Those are the Danes, that witness to my Match'd to the sinew of a single armshame..                    [Arvida; That.strikes for liberty? that: strikes to. save
Gust'' Perish- th' opprobrious term! not so, His fields from fire, his infants from the sword,
Myself will' be the guardian'-of thy fame;.'   His couch from lust, his daughters from pollution,
Tiust me,'Iwill-But see  our friends'approach- And his large honours from eternal infamy 1
Oh, clear,                            What doubt we then.?  Shall we, shall we stand
While I attend them, clear that cloud, my brother,    here!
That sits upon the morning of thy youth.      Let us on!
Oh, yes, I read your lovely fierce impatience'!
Enter:AiNDERSON, ARNOLDUS, SIVARD,        You shall not be withheld; we will rush on them-.... -OFFICERS, 4C.                    This is indeed.to triumph.
And. Let us all see him!   -. [hearts,    And. dOh, lead us on, Gustavus; one word more
Gust. Amazement, I perceive, hath fill'd your Is ut delay of conquest.
And joy, for that your lost Gustavus,'scap'dake your wish.
Through wounds, imprisonments, and chains,; andHe, who wants arms, may grapple with the foe,
deaths,.           ~......    And so be furnish'd. You, most noble Anderson,
Thus sudden, thus- unlook'd for, stands before ye. Divide our powers, and with the fam'd Olaus
As one escap'd from.cruel hands I come;,      Take the left route-You, Eric, great in arms 
AsF'neescap'dfrom hr-uelat handlcome'er n ew pity;
F. rom hearts that. ne'er -knew- pity;: *: With the renown'd Nederbi, hold the right,
Andn know no music hut the gro3ns of Sweden.  And skirt the forest down; then wheel at once,
Confess'dlto view,  and close upon the vale:
Yet, not for that my sister's early innocence  Confess'd to view, and close upon the vale:
And mother's age now grind beneath captivity;         and my most valiant cousin here,
Nor that one bloody, one remorseless hour     Th' nvincible Arvida, gallant Sivard,
Sweptmy great sire and kindred from my side;   Aroldus, and these hundred hardy veterans,
ustavus weeps notWill pour directly on, and lead the onset.
But, 0 great parent, when I think on thee!.Bold are our hearts, and nervous are our hands.
Thy numberless, thy nameless, shameful infamies, With us, truth, justice, fame, and freedom close,
My widow'd country!  weden! when I think   Each singly equal to a host of foes.   [Exeunt.
Upon thy desolation, spite of rage -                           ACT TIV. -.
And vengeance that would choke them-tears....
will flow.                    -..SCENE I.-The Palace.
And.: Oh, they arevillains, every Dane of them, Enter CHRISTiERNa CHRISTINA,' MARIANA,:and
Practis'd to stab and smile; to stab the babe,                 PE TERSON.
That smiles upon them.                          Christina. I heard, it was your royal pleasure
Amrn. What accursed hours       -           I should attend your highness.          [Sii
Roll o'er those wretches, who, to fiends like these,   Christ. Yes, Christina,
In their dear liberty have barter'd more      But-business interferes.
Than worlds will rate for.?                         -   [Exeunt CHRISTINTA and MARIAN
Gust. O liberty, Heaven's choice prerogative!
True bond of law, thou social soul of property,            Enter an OFFICER.
Thou breath' of reason, life of life itself!    Off. My sovereign liege,
For thee the valiant bleed. 0 sacred liberty!   Wide o'er the western shelving of yon hill,
Wing'd from the summer's snare, from flattering We think, though indistinctly, we can spy.
ruin,                                Like men in motion mustering on the heath,
Like the bold stork you. seek the wintery shore,  And there is one, who saith. he: can discernLeave courts, and pomps, and palaces to slaves,   A few of martial gesture, and bright arms,
Cleave to the cold, and rest upon the storm.  Who this way bend their action.,




'*,88s                       GUSTAVUS VASA.                                   [ACT IV
Christ. Friends, perhaps,                  Fortune! we will not trust the changelng more
For fies it were too daring.-Haste thee, Peterson, But wear her girt upon our armed loins,
Detach a thousand of our Danish horse        Or pointed in our grasp.
To rule their motions-we will out ourself,                Enter an OFFICER.
And hold our powers in readiness.-Lead on.     Of  The foe's at hand.
[Exeunt.  With gallant show your thousand Danes rods
SCENE II.-Another Apartment in the Palace.           forth,
Enter CHRISTINA and MARIANA.          But shall return no more -I mark'd the action.
A band of desperate resolutes rushed on them,
Mar. Ha!  did you mark, my princess, did you Scarce numbering to a tenth, and in midway
markl               sThey closed; the shock was dreadful, nor you!
Should some reverse, some wondrous whirl of fate,    Danes                       [stood 
Once more return Gustavus to the battle,    Could bear the madding charge; a while they
New nerve his arm, and wreathe his brow with  They shrunk, and broke and turn'd-When, lo 
conquest;                                    behind,
Say, would you not repent that e'er you sav'd    Fast wheeling from the right and left, there pour'd,
This dreadful man, the foe of your great race; Who intercepted their return, and caught
Who pours impetuous in his country's cause  Within the toil they perish'd.
To spoil you of a kingdom?. Christ.'Tis Gustavus!
Christina. No, my friend.                   Christ. Tis Gustavus!
No mortal else, not Ammon's boasted son,
Had I to death, or bondage, sold my sire,   Not Ciesar, would have dar'd it. Tell me, say,
Or had G~ustavus on our native realmls -    What numbers in the whole may they amount to?
Made hostile inroad; then, my Mariana,         Of A'out five thousand.
Had I then sav'd him from the stroke of justice,   Christ. And no more?
I should not cease my suit to Heaven for pardon.   Off. No more,
But if, though in a foe, to reverence virtue,  That yet appear.
Withstand oppression, rescue injur'd innocence,   Christ. We count six times their sum.Step boldly in betwixt my sire and guilt,   EHaste, soldier, take a trumpet, tell Gustavus
And save my king, rmy father, from dishonour;   We have of terms to offer, and would treat
If this be sin, I have shook hands with penitence. Touching his mother's ransom; say, her death
First perish crowns, dominion, all the shine  Suspended by our grace, but waits his answer.
And transcience of this world, ere guilt shall serve                     [Exit OFFICER.
To  buy the vain incumbrance.               Madam, it should well suit with your authority,
Blasted be that royalty,          [glorious!                               [To Aucusr A
Which murder must make sure, and crimes in- To check this frenzy in your son-Look to it:The bulk of kingdoms, nay, the world is light,   Or, by the saints, this hour's your last of life!
When guilt weighs opposite-Oh, would to Hea-   Aug. Come, my Gustava, come, my little capven,tive
The loss of empire would restore his innocence,  We shall be free
Restore the fortunes and the precious lives  And J will give thee to thy father's fondness,
Of thousands, fallen the victims of ambition!    And to the arms of all thy royal race
Enter LAERTES.                In heaven; who sit on thrones, with loves and joys.
Does he live?                                 Christ. Is this my answer?
Laer. He does,                            Come forth, ye ministers of death, come forth.
But death, ere night, must fill a long account;  Enter Rufians, who seize AUGUSTA' and
The camp, the country's in confusion: war                    GUSTAVA.
And changes ride upon the hour that hastes             asunder!  We shall
Mn                @                   j T 1 l  l j llPluck them asunder! We shall prove you, lady;
To intercept my tongue-! else could tell
Of virtues ritherto u beyond myesken cd t      Christina. Ah! I can hold no longer. Royal Sir,
Of virtues hitherto beyond my ken;          Thus on my knees, and lower, lower stillCourage, to which the lion stoops his crest,                    what mean you
Yet grafted upon qualities as soft             Christ.          
Christina. O my gracious father!
As a rock'd infant's meekness; such as tempts   Kill, kill me rather-let me perish first;
Against my faith, my country, and allegiance,   But do not stain the sanctity of kings
To wish thee speed, G ust vus.            With the sweet blood of helpless innocence.
Christina. Then you found him!    [death    Augusta. Ha! who art thou
Laer. I did;'and warn'd him, but in vain; for
Laer. I did; and warn'd him, but in vain; for That look'st so like the'habitants of heaven,
-To him appear'd more grateful than to find  Like mercy sent upon the morning's blush,
His friend's dishonour.
CHris friend's dishonour. vemethemanner-quTo glad the heart, and cheer a gloomy world
Christina. Give me the manner-quick-soft,     
good Laerte!            With light'till now unknown.
good Laertes!
Christ. Away, they come.
Enter CIIRISTIERN, PETERSON, Danes, c.    I'11 hear no more of your ill-timed petitions.
Christina. Oh yet for pity!
Christ. Damn'd, double traitor! 0 curs'd, false    Christ. I will none on   ave me.
Arvida I                              Christ. I will none on't, leave me.
Guard well the SwedishprisonersP. ity! it is the infant fool of nature;
Guard well the Swedish prisoners.
Stand to your arms.-Bring forth the captives Tear off her hold, and bear her to her tent.
Stand to your arms.-Bring  forth the captives    [Eeunt CRISTINA  MARIANA, LA'TES
[Exeunt CHRISTINA, MARIANA, LAERTES
and Attendants.
Enter AUGUSTA and GUSTAVA, guarded.                   Enter an OFFICER.
Peter. My liege-                             Off. My liege, Gustavus, though with much
Christ. Away!                                      reluctance,




scOME E.]                      GUSTAVUS VASA.                                      389
Consents to one hour's truce. His soldiers rest Where thine's in question.'Upon their arms, and, follow'd by a few       Aug. See, my son relents;
He comes to know your terms.                 Behold, O king! yet spare us but a moment,
Christ. I see.                            His little sister shall embrace his knees,
Be ready, slaves, and on the word,           And these fond arms, around his duteous neck,
Plunge deep your daggers in their bosoms.    Shall join to bend him to us.
[Points to AUGUSTA.   Christ. Could I trust yeArv. I'll be your hostage!
Enter GUSTAVUS, ARVIDA, ANDERSON, ARNOL-   Christ. Granted.
DUS, SIVARD, 4.C.                Gust. Hold, my friend.
Hold!                                            [Here AnvIDA breaks from GUSTAVUS, and
Gust. Ha!'tis, it is my mother!                 passes to CHRISTIERN'S party, while AuChrist. Tell me, Gustavus, tell me why is this?  GUSTA and GusT AVA go over to GUSTAVUS.
That, as a stream diverted from the banks      Aug. Is it then given, yet given me, ere I die,
Of smooth obedience, thou hast drawn those To see thy face, Gustavus  thus to gaze,
men                                 To touch, to fold thee thus! —My son, my son!
Upon a dry unchannell'd enterprize,         And have I liv'd to this? It is enough.
To turn their inundation?-Are the lives     All arm'd and, in my country's precious cause,
Of my misguided people held so light,        Terribly beauteous, to behold thee thus!
That thus thou'dst push them on the keen rebuke Why,'twas my only, hourly suit to Heaven,
Of guarded majesty?                          And now'tis granted. O my glorious child,
Look round, unruly boy, thy battle comes     Bless'd were the throes I felt for thee, Gustavus!
Like raw, disjointed mustering; feeble wrath-!  For from the breast, from out your swathing bands
A war of waters borne against the rock       You stepp'd the child of honour.
Of our firm continent' to fume, and chafe,     Gust. 0 my mother!                  [eye?
And shiver in the toil.                        Aug. Why stands that water trembling in thy
Gust. Mistaken man!                      Why heaves thy bosom? Turn not thus away,
I come empower'd, and strengthen'd in thy weak-'Tis the last time that we must meet, my child,
ness.                               And I will have the whole. Why, why Gustavus,
For though the structure of a tyrant's throne  Why is this form of heaviness' For me
Rise on the necks of half the suffering world,    I trust it is not meant; you cannot think
Fear trembles in the cement!                So poorly of me:, I grow old, my son,
Christ. Gustavus, wouldst thou yet return to And to the utmost period of mortality,
grace,                              I ne'er should find a death's hour like to this,
And hold thy motions in the sphere of duty,  Whereby to do thee honour.
Acceptance might be found.                     Gust. Roman patriots!
Gust. Imperial spoiler!                  Ye Decii, self-devoted to your country!
Give me my father, give me back my kindred,    You gave no mothers up! Will annals yield
Give me the fathers of ten thousand orphans,  No precedent for this, no elder boast
Give me the sons, in whom thy ruthless sword   Whereby to match my trial? 
Has left our widows childless: mine they were,    Aug. No, Gustavus;
Both mine, and every Swede's, whose patriot For Heaven still squares our trial to our strength,
breast                              And thine is of the foremost.-Noble youth!
Bleeds in his country's woundings! 0 thou canst Even I, thy parent, with a conscious pride,
not!                                Have often bow'd to thy superior virtues.
Give me then,                                Oh, there is but one bitterness in death,
My all that's left, my gentle mother there,  One only stingAnd spare yon little trembler!     -           Gust. Speak, speak!
Christ. Yes, on terms                       Aug.'Tis felt for thee.
Of compact and submission.                  Too well I know thy gentleness of soul,
Gust. Ha! with thee?         [country? Melting as babes; even now the pressure's on thee,
Compact with thee! and mean'st thou for my And bends thy loveliness to earth-Oh, child:!
For Sweden! No-so hold my heart but firm,   The dear but sad foretaste of thy affliction
Although it wring for't; though blood drop for Already kills thy mother-But behold,
tears,                              Behold thy valiant followers, who to thee,
And at the sight my straining eyes start forth- And to the faith of thy protecting arm,
They both shall perish first.               Have given ten thousand mothers, daughters too;
Christ. Slaves, do your office.           Who in thy virtue yet may learn to bear
Gust. Hold yet.-Thou canst not be so damn'd?. Millions of freeborn sons to bless thy name,
my mother!; And pray for their deliverer-Oh farewell!
I dare not ask thy blessing.-Where's Arvida?   This and but this, the very last adieu!'
Where art thou? Come, my friend, thou'st known Heaven sit victorious on thy arm, my son!
temptation —                        And give thee to thy merits!
And therefore best canst pity, or support me.  Christ. Ah, thou trait'ress!
Arv. Alas! I shall but serve to weigh' thee   Aug. See, Gustavus,
downward,            X'.. My little captive waits for one embrace.
To pull thee from the dazzling, sightless height,    Gust. Come to my arms, thou lamblike sacrifice;
At which thy virtue soars. For, oh, Gustavus,  Oh, that they were of force to fold thee ever,
My soul is dark, disconsolate and dark;.     To let' thee to my heart! there lock thee close,
Sick to the world, and hateful to myself,   But'twill not be!
I have no country now; I've nought but thee,   Arv. Hear me, thou most dear Gustavus!
And should yield up the interest of mankind,    Thus low I bend my prayer, reject me not:
33*




:890....GU ST A V U S  VA.'S A.                         [ ACT v.
If once,' if ever, thou didst-love Arvida,..              ACT'V.
Oh leave me here to- answer to. the wrath 
Of this. fell tyrant. - Save thy honour'd mother              Royal Tent, neare  ie
And that.sweet lamb from slaughter!
Gust.. Cruel friendship.......'!:..          Enter CHRISTINA and MARIANA.
Christ. And by my lifeiId take thee at thy word,   Christinad  Hark  ariana, list!-No-all
But that I know'twould please thee.                is silentAug. No, generous prince, thy blood: shall ne- It was not fancy, sure-didst thou not hear
ver be. -...:    Mar. Too plain, the voice of terror seiz'd my
The price of our dishonour,;. S Come;, my child;     ear,
Weep not, sweet babe, there shall no harm come And my heart sinks within me.
~~nig~~h thee.              ~Christina. Oh,'I: fear
Christ.'Tis well, proud dame; you are return'd, The war is now at work.-As winds, methought,
I see-.
Long borne through'hollow vaults, the sound apEach to his charge-. Here break we off, Gustavus;   proach'd 
Fror to- the very teeth of thy rebellion.  One sound, yet laden with a thousand notes
We dash defiance back.                       Of fearful variation; then it swell'd
G ust. Al~as,my mother!............ To distant -shouts, now coming on the gale;
Grief chokes up utterance, else- I.have to say  Again borne backward with a parting groan
What never tongue unlded-.....Yet return,  All sunk to horrid stillness.
Come back, and I will give up all-to save thee;
Thou fountain of my lif  Enter LAERTES.
Dearer than mercy is to kneeling penitence,:  Laer. Christina, fly!, thou royal virgin,
My earlv blessing,. firstand latest joy;     This morn beheld thee mistress of the north,
Return, return and save thy lost Gustavus!  Bright heir of Scandinavia;* and this hour
Christ. No more, thou trifler!           Has left thee not, throughout thy wide dominions,
Aug'. Oh; farewell for ever!               Whereon to rest thy foot.
[Exeunt CHRISTIERN -and his party., Gus-. Christina.'Now, praise to Heaven!
TAVUS and his party remain.:        Say, but my father lives!
Gust. Then she is gone.-Arvida! Anderson!   Lacer. At your command
For ever gone —Arnoldus- friends, where are ye? I went:; and,: from a neighb'ring summit, view'd
Help here, heave; heave this mountain from me — Where either host stood adverse, sternly wedg'd -;
Oh-.     Reflecting, on each other's gloomy front,
Heaven keep my senses!   So _-We will to  Fell hate and fix'd defiance.-When at once
battle;...,-  The foe mov'd. on, attendant to the steps
But let no banners wave — Be pstill, thou trumnp! Of their Gustavus-He, with mournful pace,
And every martial sound, that gives the war.. Came slow and silent;'till two hapless Danes
To:omp  ori levity; for,vengeance now   - -    Prick'd forth, and on his. helm discharg'd their
Is clad with heavy arms; sedately stern,            fury;
Resolv'd, but silent as the slaughter'd heaps  Then rous'd the lion! To my wondering sight
O'er which my soul is brooding....    His stature grew twofold, before his eye'Arn.'0:Gustavus!., -. All force seem'd wither'd, and hishorrid plume
Is there.a Swede of us, whose sword:and soul  Shook wild dismay around; as Heaven's dread
Grapple. not to,thee,.as to all they hold. -      bolt 
Of earthly estimation. S$aid I more,,.     He shot, he pierc'd our legions; in his strength
It were but half my.thought..I.;.:  His shouting squadron gloried, rushing on
And. On thee we gaze,  Where'er he led their' battle-Full'five times,
As one unknown till this important hour;.  Hemm'd by our mightier host, the foe seem'd lost,
Pre-eminent of men!                          And swallow'd from my sight; -five times again,
Siv. Accurs'.d be he,                  Like flames they issued to the light-And thrice
Who, in: thy leading, will not fight and strive,    These eyes beheld him, they. beheld Gustavus
And bleed; and gasp with pleasure!:      ~  Unhorsed, and by a:host girt singly in;
And.                                           thrie the.  And thrice he broke through all.
Am. Though; to. yield us up,.        c- hristina., My blood runs chill.'
Had scarce been less than virtue.             Laer. With such a strenuous, such a labour'd
Gust. 0 my friends.! ]                            conflict,
I sees.'tis not: for man to boast his strength,.   Sure never field was fought:! until Gustavus
Before the trial comes-This very hour, -   Aloud cried, Victory! and on his spear
Had I a thousand parents, all seem'd light,: -:-  High rear'dth' imperial diadem of Denmark;
When weigh'd against my country; and but now, Then slack'd the battle; then recoil'd our host;
One mother seem'd of weight to poise the world, His,.echoed; Victory!.and now would know
l'hough conscious truth- and reason. were against No bounds;:: rout follow'd, and the face of fighther.;....                  She heeds me' not.
For, oh, howe'er the partial passions sway,, Christina. Oh, ill-starr'd royalty!
High Heaven assigns but one unbiass'd way;    My.father!'cruel, dear, unhappy father!
Direct through every opposition lea:ds,   Sunmon'd so sudden! fearful, fearful thought!
W.here shelves decline, and many a steep impedes.
flere hold we'ron-t~ho.0ugh.thwartingafiends alarm, Enter.CHRISTIERN, flying, without his helmet,
Here, hold we on —though devious-sy rens charm    iin disorder, his S ord broke, and his garments
In h-eaven's disposing power events.unite,  -   bloody; he throws away his Sword.
Nor augiht.can happen. wrong to him, who acts    Christ.:Give..us new arms of proof-fresh
aright;,                  [Exeunt.         horses-quick!




-scOENEi.]                   GUS-T  ATV: S' IV A!S A.                               391
A watch without-there-Set a standard up         And. But then, for Peterson?
T'o guide our scatter'd powers! Haste, my friends,   Gust. His crimes are great;
haste!.                 A single death were a reward for treason,
We must be gone-Oh for some-cooling stream, Let him still languish-let him be exiled,
To slake a monarch's thirst!                  No more to see the land of liberty,
Laer. A post, my liege,                     The hills of Sweden, nor the native fields
A second post from Denmark, says-             Of known, endear'd Idea.
Christ. All's lost.  And. Royal Sir,
Is it not so? Be gone,                        This is to pardon, to encourage villains:
Give me a moment's solitude-Thought, thought, And hourly to expose that sacred life,
Where wouldst thou lead?                      Where wall our safety centres.
Christina. He:sees me not-Alas, alas my:   Gust. Fear them not.
father!.      The fence of virtue is a chief's best caution;
Oh, what a war there lives within his eye!    And the firm surety of my people's hearts
Where greatness struggles to survive itself.-.   Is all the guard, that e'er shall wait Gustavus.
I tremble to approach him; yet I fain         I am a soldier from my youth;
Would bring peace to him-Dont you know me,. Trust me, my friend,
Sir 1                                Except in such a cause as this day's quarrel,
Christ. My child!                          I would not shed a single wretch's blood,
Christina. I am.     -                     For the world's empire!
Christ. Curse me, then!: curse me! join with    Arn. O exalted Sweden!
Heaven, and earth,                   Bless'd people! Heaven! wherein have we deserv d
And hell, -to curse!                          A man like this to rule us?
Christina. Patience and peace               E
Possess thy mind! Not all thy pride of empire, leading in Cto GSTA-he run
E'er gave such bless'd sensations, as one hour
Of penitence, though painful-Let us hence —     Gust. My Arvida!
Far from the blood and bustle of ambition.      Arv. My king! 0 hail! Thus let me pay my
Be it my task to watch thy rising wish,                homage.                     [Kneels
To smooth thy brow, find comfort for thy cares,  Christina. Renown'd Gustavus! Mightiest
And for thy wil, obedience; still to cheer             among men!
The day with smiles, and lay the nightly down   If such a wretch, the captive of thy arms,
Beneath thy slumbers.                         Trembling and awed in thy superior presence,
Christ. Oh! thou all that's left me!        May find the grace, that every other finds,
Even in the riot, in the rage of fight,       (For thou art said to be of wondrous goodness!)
Thy guardian virtues watch'd around my head,  Then hear, and oh, excuse a foe's presumption,
When else no arm could aid; for through my While low, thus low, you see a suppliant child
ranks,                                Now pleading for a father; for a dear,
My circling troops, the fell Gustavus rush d;  Much lov'd, if cruel, yet unhappy father.
Vengeance! he cried, and with one eager hand   If he with circling nations could not stand
Grip'd fast my diadem-his other arm,          Against thee single; singly, what can he
High rear'd the deathful steel-suspended yet; When thou art fenc'd with nations?
For in his eye, and through his varying face,   Gust. Ha! that posture!
Conflicting passions fought-he look'd-he stood Oh, rise-surpris'd, my eye perceiv'd it not
In wrath reluctant-then, with gentler voice;    I've much to say, but that my tongue, my thoughts
Christina, thou hast conquer'd! Go, he cried,    Are troubled; warr'd on by unusual passions.
i yield thee to her virtues.        [Exeunt.'Twas hence thou had'st it in thy power to ask
Ere I could offer-Come, my friend, assist,
Enter GusTAvus,   ANDERSON, ARNOLDUS, SI- Instruct me to be grateful.  0 Christina,
VARD, 4.C. in triumph. GUST AVUs advances, I fought for freedom, not for crowns, thou fair one.
and the rest range themselves on each side of They shall sit brighter on that beauteous head,
the Stage.                                  Whose eye might awe the monarchs of the earth,
Gust. That we have conquer'd, first we bend And light the world to virtue-My Arvida!
to Heaven!                             Arv. I read thy soul, I see the generous conflict,
And. And next to thee!                     And come to fix, not trouble, thy repose.
All. To thee, to thee, Gustavus!           Could you but know with what an eager haste
Gust. No, matchless men! my brothers of the I sprung to execute thy late commands;
war!                                To shield this lovely object of thy cares,
Be it my greatest glory to have mix'd         And give her thus, all beauteous, to thy eyes!
My arms with yours, and to have fought for once For I've no bliss but thine, have lost the form
Like to a Dalecarlian; like to you,           Of every wish that's foreign to thy happiness.
The sires of honour, of a new born fame.        Gust. Alas! your cheek is pale-you bleed, my
To be transmitted, from your great memorial,          brother!
To climes unknown, to age succeeding age,       Arv. I do indeed-to death.
Till time shall verge upon eternity,            Gust. You have undone me:
And patriots be no more-                      Rash, headstrong man!-Oh, was this well, Ar
Arn. Behold, my lord,                               vida?
The Danish prisoners, and the traitor Peterson,   Arv. Pardon, Gustavus! mine's the common lot,
Attend their fate.                            The fate of thousands fallen' this day in battle.
Gust. Send home the Danes with honour,      I had resolv'd on life, to see you bless'd;
And let them better learn, from our example,    To see my king and his Christina happy.
To treat whom next they conquer with humanity. Turn, thou belov'd, thou honour'd next to Heaven,




392                          GUSTAVUS VASA.                                    [ATr v.
And to thy arms receive a penitent,          Abandon'd now by every supple wretcn,
Who never more shall wrong thee.             That fed his years with flattery. I am all
Gust. O Arvida!                            That's left to calm, to sooth, his troubled soul
Friend! Friend!             [Embraces him. To penitence, to virtue.               [Exit.
Arv. Thy heart beats comfort to me! in this    [GuSTAvuS looks after CHRITINA, then turns
breast,                                    and looks on ARVIDA:-ANDERSON, AntLet thy Arvida, let thy friend, survive.           NOLDUS, 4'c. advance.
Oh, strip his once loy'd image of its frailties,  Gust. Come, come, my brothers all! Yes, I
And strip it too of every fonder thought,            will strive
That may give thee affliction-Do, Gustavus;   To be the sum of every title to ye,
It is my last request; for Heaven and thou   And you shall be my sire, my friend reviv'd
Art all the care, and business  -of Arvida.  My:sister, mother, all that's kind and dear;
[Dies. For so Gustavus holds ye.-Oh, I will
Gust.' Wouldst thou too leave me?        Of private passions all my soul divest,
Not if the heart, the arms, of thy Gustavus,  And take my dearer country to my breast.
Have force to hold thee.                    To public good transfer each fond desire,
Ch.ristina. 0 delightful notes!           And clasp my Sweden, with a lover's fire.
That I do love thee, yes,'tis true, my lord.  Well pleas'd, the weight of all her burdens bear,
The bond of virtue, friendship's sacred tie,  Dispense all pleasure, but engross all care.
The lover's pains, and all the sister's fondness;   Still quick to find, to feel, my people's woes,
But I have a father,                        And wake, that millions may enjoy repose.
if cruel, yet a father:                                                        [Exeurnt.




SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER:
A COMEDY,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY DR. GOLDSMITH.
REMARKS.
IT has been observed, that no man took less pains with his compositions than Goldsmith, and yet produced so
powerful an effect: a happy originality distinguishes all his writings. Nature and Genius preside over the comedy
before us, which restored to the stage, wit, gaiety, incident, and character, in the place of that over-dose of senti
mentality and affectation which so long prevailed.
" The language throughout is easy and characteristical; the manners of the times are slightly, but fatthfully,
represented; the satire is not ostentatiously displayed, but involved in the business of the play; and the suspense
of the audience is artfully kept up to the last."-Davies.
DRAMATIS PER SONAE.
As originally acted at COVENT GARDEN, 1773.       DRURY LANE, 1814.
SIR CHARLES MARLOW,.............Mr. Gardner................. r. R. Phillips.
HARDCASTLE,...............       Mr. Shuter.................Mr. Dowton.
YOUNG MARLOW,..............Mr. Lee Lewis..............Mr. Decamp.
HASTINGS,......Mr. Du Bellamy...  M...... r. Holland.
TONY LUMPKIN,..         Mr Quick....................r. Tokely.
STINGO,...................................................... Mr. Maddocks.
DIGGORY...........................................          Mr. Ebsworth.
ROGER...............................Mr Chatterley.
RALPH..............Mr. Buxton.
GREGORY...............................................      Mr. J. West.
TOM TWIST,..............................Mr. Sparks.
JACK SLANG,...........                                       Mr. Evans.
TIM TICKLE,.............................Mr. Cooke.
JEREMY............................Mr. Fisher.
MAT MUGGINS............                                      Mr. Bennett.
SERVANT.........................Mr. Lee.
MRS. HARDCASTLE............ Mrs. Green........              Mrs. Sparks.
MISS HARDCASTLE............ Mrs. Buckley....... Mrs. Davison.
MISS NEVILLE................... Mrs. Kniveton..........Mrs. Orger.
MAID..................................   Miss Tidswell.
ACT I.                       London cannot keep its own fools at home. In
my time, the follies of the town crept slowly
SCENE    I.-A   Chamber n an oldfashioned  among us, but now they travel faster than a stage.
"ouse.                    coach.  Its fopperies come down, not only ab
Enter HARDCASTLE and MRS. HARDCASTLE.  inside passengers, but in the very basket.
Mrs. H. Ay, your times were fine times indeed
hi/rs. H. I vow, Mr. Hardcastle, you're very  you have been telling us of them for many a long
particular. Is there acreature in the whole country, year.  Here we live in an old rumbling mansion,
but ourselves, that does not take a trip to town that looks for all the world like an inn, but that
now and then to rub off the rust a little. There's we never see company.  Our best visitors are old
the two Miss Hoggs, and our neighbour, Mrs. Mrs. Oddfish, the curate's wife, and little CrippleGrigsby, go to take a month's polishing every gate, the lame dancing-master; and all our enterwinter.                                         tainment your old stories of Prince Eugene and
Hard. Ay, and bring back vanity and affecta- the Duke of Marlborough.  I hate such old.
tion to last them the whole year.  I wonder why fashioned trumpery.
VOL. I.... 3 D                                                                    393




394                   SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.                                    [AC.
Hard. And I love it. I love every thing that's doctor, little Aminidab that grinds the music-box,,old; old friends, old times, old manners, old books, and Tom Twist that spins the pewter-platter.
old wine; and I believe, Dorothy, [Taking her   Mrs. H. Pray, my dear, disappoint them for
hand.] you'll own I have been pretty fond of an one night at least.
old wite.                                      Tony. As for disappointing them,: 1 sLould not
l'Irs. H. Lord, Mr. Hardcastle, you're for ever so much mind: but I can't abide to disappoint
at your Dorothys and your old wives. You may myself.
be a Darby, but I'll be no Joan, I promise you.   Mrs. H. [Detaining him.] You sha'n't go.
I'm not so old as you'd make me by more than  -:Tony.:I will, I tell you.
one good year. Add twenty to twenty, and make   Mrs. H. I say, you sha'n't.
money of that.                                 Tony. We'll see which is strongest, you or I.
Hard Let me see; twenty added to twenty                                      [Exeunt.
makes just fifty and seven.                   Hard. Ay, there goes a pair that only spoil
Mlrs. H. It's false, Mr. Hardcastle: I was but each other. But is not the whole age in a comtwenty when I was brought to bed of Tony, that bIination to drive sense and discretion out of doors?
I had by Mr. Lumpkin, my first husband; and  There's my pretty darling Kate; the fashions of
he's not come to years of discretion yet.   the times have almost infected her too. By living
Hard. Nor ever will, I dare answer for him. a year or two in town, she is as fond of gauze and
Ay, you have taught him finely.             French frippery, as the best of them.
Mrs. H: No matter; Tony Lumpkin has a               Enter Miss HARDCASTLE.
good fortune. My son is not to live by his. karnIng.'I' don't think a boywants much!earinig:to    Hard. Blessings on my pretty innocence!spend fifteen hundred a year.               Dressed out as usual, my Kate. Goodness! what
Hard. Learning, quotha! a mere composition  a quantity of superfluous silk hast thou got about
of tricks and mischief.                     thee, girl! J i could never teach the fools of this
Mrs. H. Humour, my dear; nothing:but hu- age, that the indigent world could be clothed out
mour. Come, Mr. Hardcastle, you must allow  of the trimmings of the vain.
the boy a little humour.                      Miss H. You know our agreement, Sir. You
Hard. I'd sooner allow him a horsepond. If allow me the morning to receive and pay visits,
burning the footman's shoes, frighting the maids, and to dress in my own manner; and in the evenworrying the kittens, be humour, he has it. It ing, I put on my housewife's dress to please you.
was but yesterday he fastened my wig to the back    Hard. Well, remember I insist on the terms
of my chair, and when I went to make a bow, of our agreement: and by the by, I believe I shall
I popp'd my bald head into Mrs. Frizzle's face,   have occasion to try your obedience this very evenMIrs. H. And am I to blame.  The poor boy ing.
was always too sickly to do. any good. A school   -iss' H.' I protest, Sir, I don't comprehend your
would be his death. When he comes to be a meaning.
little stronger, who knows what a year or two's   Hard. Then to be plain with you, Kate, I exLatin may do for him?: pect the young gentleman I have chosen to be
Hard. Latin for him! a cat and a fiddle. No,. your husband from town this very day. I have
no, the alehouse and the stable are the only schools his father's letter, in which he informs me his son
he'll ever go to...   is set out, and. that he intends to follow hinse-lf
Mrs. H. Well, we must not snub the poor boy shortly after.
now; for I. believe we sha'n't have him long- -  iss-H. Indeed! I wish I had known someamong us. Any body that looks in his face may- thing of this before. Bless me, how shall I besee he's consumptive.                       have? It's a thousand-to one I sha'n't like him;
Hard. Ay, if growing too fat be one of the our meeting will be so formal, and so like a thing
symptoms.  of business, that I shall find- no room for friendMrs. H. He coughs sometimes.              ship or esteem.
Hard. Yes, when his liquor goes the wrong   Hard. Depend upon it, child, I'll never control
way.                                        your choice; but Mr. Marlow, whom  I have
Mrs. H. I'm actually afraid of his lungs.  pitched. upon, is the son of my old friend, Sir
Hard. And truly, so am I; for he sometimes Charles Marlow, of whom you have heard me
whoops like a speaking-trumpet-[ToNY halloo- talk so often. The young  gentleman has been
ing behind the scenes.] —O there he goes-A very bred a scholar, and is designed for an employconsumptive figure, truly.                  ment in the service of his country. I am told
Enter TONY, crossing the stage.       he's a man of excellent understanding.
Miss H. Is he?
Mrs. H. Tony, where are you going, my charm-   Hard. Very generous.
er'. Won't you give papa and I a little of your   Miss H. I believe I shall like him.
company, lovee?                              Hard. Young and brave.
Tony. I'm in haste, mother, I can't stay.   Miss H. I'm sure I shall like him.
iMrs. H. You sha'n't venture out this raw even-   Hard. And very handsome.
ing, my dear; you look:most shockingly.      Miss. H. My dear papa, say no more; [Kissing
Tony. I can't stay, I tell you. The Three his hand.] he's mine,, I'll have him.
ligeons expect me down every moment. There's   Hard. And, to crown all, Kate, he's one of the
some fun going forward.                     most bashful and reserved young fellows in the
Hard. Ay; the alehouse, the old: place: I world.
thought so.                   -                MIiss-H. Eh! you have frozen me to death
Mrs. H. A low, paltry set of fellows.     again. That word reserved has undone all the
Tony. Not so low, neither. There's Dick rest of his accomplishments. A reserved lover, it
Muggins the exciseman, Jack Slang the horse- is said, always makes a suspicious husband




SCENs II.]             S H E  ST-D O.PS-:TO'C O NQ  U E R.                          -39b
Hard. On the contrary, modesty seldom resides   Miss H. And her partiality is such, that she
m a breast that is not enriched with nobler virtues. actually thinks him so. A fortune like yours is
It was the very feature in his character that first no small temptation. Besides,-as she has the sole
struck me.                                     management of it, I'm not surprised to see! her
Miss H. He must have more striking features unwilling to let it go out of the family.
to catch me, I promise you. However, if he be so    MIiss N. A  fortune like mine, which chiefly
young, so handsome, and so every thing, as you consists in jewels, is no such mighty temptation.
mention, I believe he'll do still. I think I'll have  But at any rate, if my dear Hastings be but conhim.   -.. -. stant, I make no doubt to be too hard for her at
Hard. Ay, Kate, but there is still an obstacle. last. However, I let her suppose that I am in
It's more than an even wager he may not have love with her son, and she never once dreams that
you.                                           my affections are fixed upon another.
AMMiss H  My dear papa,why will you mortify    Miss I. My good brother holds out stoutly. I
one so?-Well, if he refuses, instead of breaking  could almost love him for hating you so.
my heart at his indifference, I'll only break my    Miss N. It is a good natured creature at botglass for its flattery; set my cap to some newer tom, and I'm. sure would wish to see me married
fashion, and look out for some less difficult to any' body but himself. But my aunt's bell
admirer.. rings for our afternoon's walk round the improvelHard. Bravely resolved! In the mean time ments. Allon's, courage is necessary, as our afI'll go prepare the servants for his reception; as fairs are critical.
we seldom see company, they want as much train-   wMiss H. Would it were bed time, and all were
ing as a company of recruits the first day's mus- well.
ter.                           -       [Exit.
Miss H. Lud, this news of papa's puts me all       SCENE II.-An Alehouse Room.
in a flutter. Young, handsome; these he puts Several shabby fellows, with punch and tobacco.
last;,but I put them foremost. Sensible, good-        TONY at the head of the table.
natured; I like all that.  But then reserved and
sheepish; that's much —against him. Yet can't   Omnes. Hurra, hurra, hurra, bravo.
he be cured of his timidity, by being taught to be    1 Fel. Now, gentlemen, silence for a song
proud of his wife   Yes, and can't 1-But I vow  The squire is going to knock himself down for a
I'm disposing of the husband, before I have song.
secured the lover.'                          Omnes. Ay, a song, a song.:'Tony.' Then I'll sing you, gentlemen, a song
Enter MISS NEVILLE.                T made upon this alehouse, the Three Pigeons.
Miss H. I'm  glad you're come, Neville, my   Let schoolmasters puzzle their brain,
dear.  Tell me, Constance, how do I look this      With grammar, and nonsense, and learning;
evening?. Is there any thing whimsical about me?   Good liquor, I stoutly maintain,
Is it one of my well looking days, child? am I in  Gives genius a better discerning.
face to-day?                                     Let them brag of their heathenish gods,
aIiss N. Perfectly, my dear. Yet now I look'  Their etes, their Styes, and Stygians,
again+-bless me! surely no accident has happened   Their qlis, and their quas, and their quods,
among the canary birds or the gold fishes. Has     Theyre all but a parce of pigeons.
your brother or the cat been meddling?  Or hasoddle, toroddle, toroll
the last novel been' too moving?'.     - When methodist preachers come down
Mliss H. No; nothing of all this. I have been    A peaching that drinking is sinful,
I'll wager the rascals a crown,
threatened-I can scarce get it out-I have been    1l wager the rascals a crown,
They alwdys preach best with a skinful.
threatened with a lover.                         But when you come down with yourpence,
-  VMiss N. And his name-                        For a slice of their scurvy religion,
Miss H. Is Marlow.                             I'll leave. it to all men of sense,
Miss N. Indeed!                                 But you, my:goodfriend, are the pigeon.
Miss H. The son of Sir Charles Marlow.                           Toroddle, &4c.
Aliss N.'As I live, the most intimate friend of   7Then come, put thejorum about,
Mr. Hastings, my admirer.  They are never. And let us be merry and clever;
asunder.. I. believe you must have seen him when    Our hearts and our liquors are stout,.
we lived in town..            Here's the Three Jolly Pigeons for ever.
Miss H. Never..                               Let some cry up woodcock or hare,
Miss N. He's a very singular character, I        Your bustards, your ducks, and your widgeons,
assure you., Among: women of reputation and'But' of all the birds in the air,
virtue, he is the modestest man alive; but his ac-  Here's a health to the Three Jolly Pigeons.
quaintance: give him a very different characteroroddle, 4c.
among creatures of another stamp: y.u under-    Omnes. Bravo, bravo.
stand me.                                        1 Fel. The squire has got spunk in him.
Miss H. An odd -character indeed.  I shall' 2 Fel. I loves to hear him sing. bekeays he,
never be able to manage him. What shall I do?  never gives us nothing that's low.
Pshaw,- think no more of him; but trust to occur-   3 Fel.. O, damn any thing that's low; I can't
rences:for success, But how goes on your own  bear it.'
affair, my dear?': has my mother been courting you    4 Fel. The genteel thing is the genteel thing
for my brother Tony, as usual?                 at any time, if so be that a gentleman bees in a
Miss N. I. have Just come from one of our concatenation accordingly.
agreeable tete-a-tetes.  She has.been:saying a   3 Fel. I like the maxum of it, master Muggins.
hundred tender things, and settfig off her pretty  W:hat though I am obligated to dance a Dear, a
monster as the very. pink of perfection.       man may be a gentleman for all that. May this




396                  SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER                                     [ACTIx.
be my poison if my bear ever dances but to the   Mar. We wanted no ghost to tell us that.
very genteelest of tunes;-" Water parted," or   Tony. Pray, gentlemen, may 1 be so bold as
the minuet in Ariadne.                      to ask the place from whence you came?
2 Fel. What a pity it is the squire is not come   Mar. That's not necessary towards directing
to his own. It would be well for all the publicans us where we are to go.
within ten miles round of him.                 Tony. No offence: but question for question
Tony. Ecod, and so it would, master Slang. is all fair, you know. Pray, gentlemen, is not this
I'd then show what it was to keep choice of same Hardcastle a cross-grained, old-fashioned,
company.                                     whimsical fellow, with an ugly face, a daughter,
2 Fel. Oh, he takes after his own father for and a pretty son,?
that. To be sure old'squire Lumpkin was the   Hast. We have not seen the gentleman, but he
finest gentleman I ever set my eyes on. For has the family you mention.
winding the straight horn. or beating a thicket  lTony. The daughter, a tall, trapesing, trollopfor a hare, or a wench, he never had his fellow. ing, talkative maypole-the son, a pretty, well]t was a saying in the place, that he kept the best bred, agreeable youth, that every body is fond of.
horses, dogs, and girls, in the whole country.  IYar. Our information differs in this: the
Tony. Ecod, and when I'm of age I'll be no daughter is said to be well-bred and beautiful; the
bastard, I promise you. I have been thinking of son, an awkward booby, reared up and spoiled a.
Bet Bouncer and the miller's gray mare to begin his mother's apron-string.
with. But come, my boys, drink about and be    Tony. He-he-hem-Then, gentlemen, all I
merry, for you pay no reckoning. Well, Stingo, have to tell you is, that you wont reach Mr. Hardwhat's the matter?                         castle's house this night, I believe.
Enter LANDLORD.  ast. Unfortunate!
Tony. It's a damned long, dark, boggy, dirty,
Land. There be two gentlemenin a post-chaise dangerous way. Stingo, tell the gentlemen the
at the door. They have lost their way up o' the way to Mr. Hardcastle's; [Winking upon the
forest, and they are talking something about Mr. LANDLORD.] Mr. Hardcastle's, of QuagmireHardcastle.                                 marsh, you understand me.
Tony. As sure as can be, one of them must   Land. Master Hardcastle's! Lack-a-daisy, my
be the gentleman that's coming down to court my masters, you're come a deadly deal wrong! When
sister. Do they seem to be Londoners?      you came to the bottom of the hill, you should
Land. I believe they may. They look woundily have crossed down Squash-lane.
like Frenchmen.                                Alar. Cross down Squash-lane.
Tony. Then desire them to step this way, and   Land. Then you were to keep straight forward
I'll set them right in a twinkling. [Exit LAND- till you came to four roads.
LORD.] Gentlemen, as they mayn't be good   Alar. Come to where four roads meet?
enough company for you, step down for a mo-   Tony. Ay, but you must be sure to take only
ment, and I'll be with you in the squeezing of a one of them.
lemon. [Exeunt Mob.] Father-in-law has been    Mar. Oh, Sir, you're facetious.
calling me whelp, and hound, this half year. Now    Tony. Then keeping to the right, you are to
if I pleased, I could be so revenged upon the old go sideways till you come upon Crack-skull comgrumbletonian. But then I'm afraid!-of what? mon: there you must look sharp for the track of
Ishall soon be worth fifteen hundred a year, and the wheel, and go forward till you come to farmer
let him frighten me out of that if he can.   Murrain's barn. Coming to the farmer's barn,
Enter LANDLORD, conducting MARLOW  and  you are to turn to the right, and then to the left.
HASTINGS.         o         and then the right about again, till you find out
the old mill —
M1ar. What a tedious, uncomfortable day have   Mar. Zounds, man! we could as soon find out
we had of it. We were told it was but forty the longitude!
miles across the country, and we have come above   Hast. What's to be done, Marlow?
threescore.                                    Mar. This house promises but a poor recepHast. And all, Marlow, from-that unaccounta- tion; though perhaps the landlord can accommoble reserve of yours, that would not let us inquire date us.
more frequently on the way.                   Land. Alack, master, we have but one spare
_Mar. I own. Hastings, I am unwilling to lay bed in the whole house.
myself under an obligation to every one I meet;   Tony. And, to my knowledge, that's taken up
and often stand the chance of an unmannerly an- by three lodgers already. [After a pause, in which
swer.                                       the rest seem disconcerted.] I have hit it; don't
Ihast. At present, however, we are not likely you think, Stingo, our landlady could accommodate
to receive any answer.                      the gentlemen by the fireside, with-three chairs
Tony. No offence, gentlemen; but I'm  told and a bolster?
you have been inquiring for one Mr. Hardcastle,   Hast. I hate sleeping by the fireside.
in these parts. Do you know what part of the   AMar. And I detest your three chairs and a
country you are in?                         bolster.
Hast. Not in the least, Sir; but should thank    Tony. You do, do you?-then let me seeyou for information.                        what —if you go on a mile farther, to the Buck's
Tony. Nor the way you came?              Head, the old Buck's Head on the hill, one of the
Hast. No, Sir; but if you can inform us-   best inns in the whole country?
Tony. VWhy, gentlemen, if you know neither   Hast. 0 ho! so we have escaped an adventure
the road you are going, nor where you are, nor for this night, however.
the- road you came, the first thing I have to in-   Land. [Apart to TONY.] Sure you ben't sendform you is, that-you have lost your way.   ing them to your father's as an inn,- be you?




SCENE 1.]            SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.                                       397
Tony. Mum, you fool you; let them find that   Dig. Then ecod your worship must not tell the
out. [Tothem.] Youhave onlytokeepon straight story of Ould Grouse in the gun-room: I can't
forward till you come to a large house by the road help laughing at that-he, he, he!-for the soul
side: you'll see a pair of large horns over the of me. We have laughed at that these twenty
door: that's the sign. Drive up the yard, and years-ha, ha, ha!
call stoutly about you.                        Hard. Ha, ha, ha! The story is a good one.
Hast. Sir, we are obliged to you. The servalts Well, honest Diggory, you may laugh at thatcan't miss the way?                        but still remember to be attentive. Suppose one
Tony. No, no: but I tell you, though, the land. of the company should call for a glass of wine, how
lord is rich, and going to leave off business; so he will you behave? A glass of wine, Sir, if you
wants to be thought a gentleman, saving your please. [ To DIGGORY.]-Eh, whydon't you move?
presence, he, he, he! He'll be for giving you his   Dig. Ecod, your worship, I never have courage
company, and ecod if you mind him, he'll persuade till I see the eatables and drinkables brought upo'
you that his mother was an alderman, and his the table, and then I'm as bauld as a lion.
aunt a justice of peace.                       Hard. What, will nobody move 2
Land. A troublesome old blade, to be sure; but   I Serv. I'm not to leave this place.
a keeps as good wines and beds as any in the   2 Serv. I'm sure it's no pleace of mine.
whole country.                                3 Serv. Nor mine, for sartin.
M1[ar. Well, if he supplies us with these, we   Dig. Wauns, and I'm sure it canna be mine.
shall want no further connection. We are to turn   Hard. You numskulls! and so while, like your
to the right, did you say?                 betters, you are quarrelling for places, the guests
Tony. No, no, straight forward. I'll just step must be starved. Oh, you dunces! I find I must
myself, and show you a piece of the way. [To begin all over again. But don't I hear a coach
LAND.] Mum.                                 drive into the yard? To your posts, you blockLand. Ah, bless your heart, for asweet, pleasant heads. I'll go in the mean time and give my old
-damned mischievous son of a whore. [Exeunt. friend's son a hearty welcome at the gate. [Exit.
ALCT II.'Dig. By the elevens, my place is gone quite
out of my head.
SCENE I.-An old-fashioned House.          Roger. I know that my place is to be every where.
Enter HARDCASTLE, followed by three or.four   I Serv. Where the devil is mine 1?
awkward SERVANTS.                 2 Serv. My place is to be nowhere at all; and
Hard. Well, I hope you're perfect in the table so I'ze go about my business.
exercise I have been teaching you these three days.         [Exeunt SERVANTS, running.
You all know your posts and your places, and can   Enter MARLow and HASTINGS.
show that you have been used to good company,
without stirring from home.                   Hast. After the disappointments of the day, we
Omnes. Ay, ay.                            come once more, Charles, to the comforts of a clean
Hard. When company comes, you are not to room and a good fire. Upon my word, a very
pop out and stare, and then run in again, like well-looking house; antique, but creditable.
frighted rabbits in a warren.                 Mar. The usual fate of a large mansion. HavOmnes. No, no.                            ing first ruined the master by good house-keeping,
Hard. You, Diggory, whom I have taken from  it at last comes to levy contributions as an inn.
the barn, are to make a show at the side-table; and   Hast. As you say, we passengers are to be
you, Roger,whom I have advanced from the plough, taxed to pay all these fineries. I have often seen
are to place yourself behind my chair. But you re a good sideboard, or a marble chimney-piece,
not to stand so, with your hands in your pockets. though not actually put in the bill, inflame the
Take your hands from your pockets, Roger, and bill confoundedly.
from your head, you blockhead you. See how    Mar. Travellers, George, must payin all places,
Diggory carries his hands.. They're a little too the only difference is, that in good inns you pay
stiff, indeed, but that's no great matter.  dearly for luxuries; in bad inns you are fleeced
Dig. Ay, mind how I hold them: I learned to and starved.
hold my hands this way when I was upon drill   Hast. You have lived pretty much among them.
for the militia. And so being upon drill-   In truth, I have been often surprised, that you,
Hard. You must not be too talkative, Diggory; who have seen so much of the world, with your
you must be all attention to the guests. You must natural good sense, and your many opportunities,
hear us talk, and not think of talking; you must could never yet acquire a requisite share of assursee us drink, and not think of drinking; you must ance.
see us eat, and not think of eating.          Mar. The Englishman's malady; but tell me,
Dig. By the laws, your worship, that's perfectly George, where could I have learned that assurance
unpossible. Whenever Diggoryseesyeating going you talk of? My life has been chiefly spent in a
forwards, ecod he's always wishing for a mouthful college or an inn, in seclusion from that lovely part
himself.                                    of the creation, that chiefly teach men confidence.
thard. Blockhead! is not a bellyful in the I don't know that I was everfamiliarly acquainted
kitchen as good as a bellyful in the parlour? Stay with a single woman except my mother. But
your stomach with that reflection.          among females of another class, you knowDig. Ecod I thank your worship; I'll make a   Hast. Ay, among them  you are impudent
shift to stay my stomach with a slice of cold beef enough of all conscience.
in the pantry.                                 Mar. They are of us, you know.
Hard. Diggory you are too talkative. Then if   Hast. But in the company of women of reputaI happen to say a good thing, or tell a good story tion I never saw such an idiot, such a trembler
at table, you must not all burst out a laughing, as you look for all the. world as if you wanted an oi?
if you wade part of the company.;           portunity of stealing out of the room.
34




398                  SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.                                     r[Ar IL
Mar. Why, man, that's because I do want to. puts me in mind of the Duke of Marlborough,
steal out of the room.'Faith, I have often formed. when he went to besiege Denain. He first suma resolution to break the ice, and rattle away at moned the garrison.
any rate.. But I don't know how, a single glance   Mar. Ay, and we'll- summon your garrison, old
from a pair of fine eyes has totally overset my boy.
resolution. An impudent fellow may counterfeit.   Hard. He first summoned the garrison, which
modesty, but I'll be hanged if a modest man can* might consist of about five thousand- men
ever counterfeit impudence.                     Hast. Marlow, what's o'clock.
Hast. if you could but say half the fine things  1iard. I say, gentlemen, as I was' telling you,
to them that I have heard you lavish upon the bar- he summoned the garrison, which might consist
maid of an inn, or even a- college bed-maker —   of about five thousand men.
Mar. Why, George, I can't say fine things to  M:lar. Five minutes to seven. -
them. -They freeze, they petrify me. They may    Hard. Which might consist of about five
talk of a comet, or a burning mountain, or some thousand men, well appointed with stores,:ammusuch bagatelle; but to me a modest woman, nition, and other implements of war. Now, says
dress'd out in all her finery, is the most tremend- the Duke of Marlborough, to George Brooks that
ous object of the whole- creation.       -   stood next tohim-You must have-heard of George
Hast. ~Ha, ha, ha! At this rate, man, how can Brooks-I'll pawn my dukedom; says he, but I
you-ever expect to marry?    -              take that garrison without spilling a drop of
Mar. Never, unless, as among kings and prin- blood.- So- 
ces, my bride were to be courted by proxy. If,   Mar. What, my good friend, if you give us a
indeed, like an eastern bridegroom, one were to glass of punch in the mean time, it would help
be introduced to a wife he never saw before, it us to carry on the siege with vigour.
might be endured.- But to go through all the    Hard. Punch, Sir! —This is the most unacterrors of a formal courtship, together with the  countable kind of modesty I ever met with.
episode of aunts, grandmothers, cousins, and                                       [Aside.
at last to blurt out the broad start-question of,   Mar. Yes, Sir, punch.  A  glass of warm
Madamn, will you marry me?  No, no, that's a punch, after our journey, will be comfortable.
strain much. above me, I assure you.                Enter SERVANT, with a tankard.
Hast. I pity you; but how do you intend behaving to the lady you are come down to visit at This is Liberty-hall, you know.
the request of your father  Hard. Here's a cup, Sir.
Illar. As I behave to all other ladies. Bow very   Mar. So this -fellow, in his Liberty-hall, will
low. Answer yes, or no, to all her demands — only let us have just what he pleases.   [Aside.
But for the rest, I don't think I shall venture to    Hard. [.Taking the cup.]  I hope you'll find
look in her face till I see my father's again.  it to your mind. I have prepared it with my own
Hast. I'm surprised that one who is so warm a hands, and I believe you'll own the ingredients
friend can be so cool a lover.               are tolerable. Will you be so good as to pledge
AMar. To be explicit, my dear Hastings, my me, Sir?  Here, Mr. Marlow, here is to our betchief inducement down was to be instrumental in ter acquaintance.                [Drinks.
forwarding your happiness, not my own. Miss  2Mar. A very impudent fellow this! but he's a
Neville loves you; the family don't know you; as character, and I'll humour him a little. [-Aside.]
my friend you are sure of a reception, -and let Sir, my service to you. [Drinks, and gives the
honour do the-rest.                          cup to HASTINGS.Hast. I see this fellow wants to give us his
company, and forgets that he's an innkeeper, before
Hard. Gentlemen, once more you are heartily he has learned to be a gentleman.:   [Aside.
welcome. Which is Mr. Marlow?  Sir, you're -}far. From the excellence of your cup, my old
heartily welcome. It's not my way, you see, to friend, I suppose you have a good deal of business
receive my friends with my back to the fire; I like - in this part of the country. Warm work, now
to give them a hearty reception in the old style at and then, at elections, 1 suppose. -
my gate: I like to see their horses and trunks          [Gives the tankard to HARDCASTLE.
taken care of.  -     -         -              Hard. No, Sir, I have long given that work
Mar.'[Aside.] He has got ournames from the'over. Since our betters -have hit upon the expeservants already. [To HARDCASTLE.]  We ap- dient of-electing each other, there's no business
prove  your caution:  and hospitality, -Sir.  To  for us that sell ale.
IIAsTINGS.] I have been thinking, George, of               [Gives the tankard to HASTINGS.
changing our travelling dresses in the morning; I   Hast. So then you have no turn for-politics, I
am grown confoundedly ashamed of mine.-    - find.
Hard. I beg, Mr. Marlow, you'll use no cere-   Hard. Nbt in the least. There was a time,
mony in this -house. -                       indeed, I fretted myself about the mistakes of
Hast. I fancy, George, you're right: the first government, like other people; but finding myblow is half the battle. -                   self every day grow more'angry, and the governHard. Mr. Marlow-Mr. Hastings-gentle- ment growing no better, I left it to mend itself.
men-pray be under no restraint in this house. -Since that, I no more trouble my head about who's
This is Liberty-hall, gentlemen; you may do just in or who's out, than I do about John Nokes and
as you please here.                          Tom Stiles. So my service to you.
Ml~ar. Yet, George, if we open the campaign too   Hast. So that with eating above stairs and
fiercely at first, we may want ammunition before drinking below, with receiving your friends within
it is over. We must show our generalship, by -and amusing them without, you lead a good,
securing. if necessary, a retreat.  - -      pleasant, bustling life of it.
Hard. Your talking of a retreat, Mr. Marlow,   Hard. I do stir abouti a good deal, that's certain.




SCENE I.1              SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.                                         3(9
Half the dlfferences in the parish are adjusted in    Hast. Damn your pig, I say:
this very parlour.                               Mar.  And damn your prune sauce, say I.
Mar. [After drinking.] And you have an ar-   Hard. And *yet, gentlemen, to men. that are
gument in your cup, old gentleman, better than  hungry, pig, with prune sauce, is very good eatany in Westminister-hall.                      ing.   Their impudenceconfounds me. [Aside.]
Hard. Ay, young gentleman, that, and a little Gentlemen, you are my guests, make what alteraphilosophy.                                    tion you please. Is there any thing else you wish
MAar. Well, this is the first time I ever heard  to retrench or alter, gentlemen?
of an innkeeper's philosophy.          [Aside.   Mar. Item. A pork pie, a boiled, rabbit and
Hast. So then, like an experienced general,!sausages, aflorentine, ashakingpudding, and a
you attack them on every quarter. If you find  dish of tif —taff-tafiety cream!
their reason manageable, you attack them  with  - Hast. Confound your made dishes! I shall be
your philosophy; if you find they have no reason, as much at a loss in this house, as at a green and
you attack them with this. Here's your health, yellow dinner at the French ambassador's table.
my philosopher.                      [Drinks. I'm for plain eating.
Hard. Good, very good, thank you; ha, ha!   Hard. I'm sorry, gentlemen, that 1 nave nothing
Your generalship puts me in mind of prince you like; but if there:be any thing you have a
Eugene when he fought the Turks at the battle particular fancy to -...
of Belgrade. You shall hear.                     Mar. Why really, Sir, your bill of fare is so
M/lar. Instead of the battle of Belgrade, I think  exquisite, that any one part of it is full as good as
it's almost time to talk about supper. What has another. Send us what you please. So much
your philosophy got in the house for supper? 2 for supper. And now to see that our beds are
Hard. For supper, Sir!-Was ever such are- aired,. and properly taken care of.
quest to a man in his own house!      [Aside;.. Hard.. I entreat you'll leave all that to me. You
Mar. Yes, Sir, supper, Sir; 1 begin to feel an'shall not stir a step.
appetite.  I shall make devilish work to-night in   iMar. Leave that to you! I protest, Sir, you
the larder, T promise you.                    -must: excuse me, I always look to these things
Hard: Such a brazen dog sure my-eyes never. myself
beheld. [Aside.] Why really, Sir, as for supper,   Hard. I must insist, Sir, you'll make yourself
I can't well tell. My Dorothy and the cookmaid easy on that head.
settle these things between them. I leave these    Mar. You see I'm resolv'd on it.-A very troukind of things entirely to them.               blesome fellow, as ever I met with.    [Aside.:Mar. You do, do you?                         Hard. Well, Sir, I'm resolved at least to attend
Hard. Entirely.  By the by, I believe they are you.-This may be modern modesty, but I never
in actual consultation upon what's for supper this saw any thing look so like old-fashioned impumoment in the kitchen.                         dence.   [Exeunt MARLow and HARDCASTLE.
Mar. Then I beg they'll admit me as one of   Hast. So I find this fellow's civilities begin to
their privy council.  It's a way I have got. grow troublesome. But who can be angry with
When I travel I always choose to regulate my  those assiduities which are meant to please him?
own supper. Let the cook be called. No offence, Ha! what do I see?  Miss Neville, by all that's
I hope, Sir.                                   happy!
Hard. 0 no, Sir, none in the least: yet I don't         Enter MISS NEVILLE.
know how, our Bridget, the cookmaid, is not very
communicative upon these occasions.  Should we    Miss N. My dear Hastings! To what unexsend for her, she might scold us all out of the pected good fortune, to what accident, ant I to
house.                                         ascribe this happy meeting?
Hast. Let's see the list of the larder then. I.: Hast. Rather let me ask the same question, as I
ask it as a favour. I always match my appetite could never have hoped to meet my dearest Conto my bill of fare.                            stantia at an inn.
Mar. [TOHARDCASTLE, who looks atthem with: Miss N. An inn! sure you mistake! my aunt,
surprise.] Sir, he's very right, and it's my way  my guardian, lives here. What could induce you
too.                                           to think this house an inn?
Hard. Sir, you have a right to command here. i EHast. My friend, Mr. Marlow, with whom I
Here, Roger, bring us the bill of fare for to-night's came down, and I, have been sent here as to an
supper. I believe it's drawn out. Your manner, inn, I assure you. A young fellow, whom we
Mr. Hastings, puts me in mind of my uncle, accidentally met at a- house hard by, directed us
Colonel Wallop. It was a-saying of his, that no hither.
man was sure of his supper till he had eaten it.-?   Miss N. Certainly it must be one of my hope[Servant brings bill offare, and exit. ful. cousin's tricks, of whom you have heard me
Hast. All upon the high ropes! His uncle a talk so often;. ha, ha, ha, ha!
colonel! we shall soon hear of his mother being a    Hast. He whom  your aunt intends for you?
justice of peace. But let's hear the bill of fare.   He of whom I have such just apprehensions?
[Aside,   Miss N. You have nothing to fear from him, I
Mar. [Perusing.]  What's here?  For the assure you. You'd adore him if you knew how
first course;for the second course;for the desert. heartily he despises me. My aunt knows it too,
The devil, Sir, do you think we have brought down and has undertaken to court me for him, and actuthe whole joiners' company, or the corporation of ally begins to think she has made a conquest.
Bedford, to eat up such a supper 2 Two or three    Hast. Thou dear dissembler! You must know,
little things, clean and comfortable, will do.  my Constance, I have just seized this happy opHast. But let's hear it.                     portunity of my friend's: visit here to get admitMar. [Reading.], For the first course,; at the tance into the family.  The horses that carried us
k.i, a pig and prune sauce.                    down are now fatigued with the journey but




400                  SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.                                    [ACT nI
hey'll soon be refreshed; and then, if my dearest   Enter Miss HARDCASTLE, returned from
girl will trust in her faithful Hastings, we shall             walking.
soon be landed in France, where even among
slaves the laws of marriage are respected.     Hast. [Introducing them.] Miss Hardcastle,
Miss N. I have often told you, that, though Mr. Marlow. I'm proud of bringing two persons
ready to obey you, I yet should leave my little for- together, who only want to know, to esteem each
tune behind with reluctance. The greatest part other.
of it was left me by uncle, the India Director,   Miss H. [Aside.] Now, for meeting my modest
and chiefly consists in jewels. I have been for gentleman with a demure face, and quite in his
some time persuading my aunt to let me wear own manner. [After a pause, in which he appears
them. I fancy I am very near succeeding. The very uneasy and disconcerted.] I'm glad of your
instant they are put into my possession, you shall safe arrival, Sir —I'm told you had some accidents
find me ready to make them and myself yours.   by the way.
Hast. Perish the baubles! Your person is all  Mlar. Only a few, Madam. Yes, we had some.
I desire. In the mean time, my friend Marlow  Yes, Madam, a good many accidents, but should
must not be let into his mistake. I know the be sorry, Madam-or, rather glad of an accidents
strange reserve of his temper is such, that, if ab- -that are so agreeably concluded. Hem!
ruptly informed of it, he would instantly quit the   Hast. [ To MAR.] YOU never spoke better in
house before our plan was ripe for execution.  your whole life. Keep it up, and I'll ensure you
Miiss N. But how shall we keep him in the the victory.
deception? Miss Hardcastle is just returned from    Miss H. I'm afraid you flatter, Sir. You that
walking; what if we persuade him she is come have seen so much of the finest company, can find
to this house as to an inn — Come this way.    little entertainment in an obscure corner of the
[ They. confer. country.
Enter MARLOW.                    Mar. [Gathering courage.] I have lived, in.deed, in the world, Madam; but I have kept very
Mar. The assiduities of these good people tease little company. I have been but an observer upon
me beyond bearing. My host seems to think it life, Madam, while others were enjoying it.
ill manners to leave me alone, and so he claps not   Miss H. An observer, like you, upon life, were
only himself, but his old-fashioned wife on my I fear disagreeably employed, since you must have
back. They talk of coming to sup with us too; had much more to censure than to approve.
and then, I suppose, we are to run the gauntlet   Mar. Pardon me, Madam; I was always will
through all the rest of the family-What have we ing to be amused. The folly of most people is
got here'-                                  rather an object of my mirth than uneasiness.
Hast. My dear Charles, let me congratulate   Hast. [To MAR.] Bravo, bravo! Never spoke
you-The most fortunate accident!-Who do so well in your whole life. Well! Miss Hardyou think has just alighted?                castle, I see that you and Mr. Marlow are going
Mar. Cannot guess.                        to be very good company. I believe our being
Hast. Our mistresses, boy; Miss Hardlcastle here will but embarrass the interview.
and Miss Neville. Give me leave to introduce   Mar. Not in the least, Mr. Hastings. We
Miss Constance Neville to your acquaintance. like your company of all things. [To HAsT.]
Happening to dine in the neighbourhood, they Zounds! George, sure you wont go! How can
called on their return to take fresh horses here. you leave us?
Miss Hardcastle has just stepped into the next   Hast. Our presence will but spoil conversation,
room, and will be back in an instant. Wasn't it so we'll retire to the next room. [To MAR.] YOU
lucky? eh!                                  don't consider, man, that we are to manage a little
Mltar. I have just been mortified enough of all tete-a-tete of our own.       [Exeunt.
conscience, and here comes something to complete   Miss H. [After a pause.] But you have not
my embarrassment.                    [Aside. been wholly an observer, I presume, Sir?  The
Hast. Well! but wasn't it the most fortunate ladies, I should hope, have employed some part of
thing in the world?                         your addresses.
alar. Oh! yes. Very fortunate-a most joy-   Mar. [Relapsing into timidity.] Pardon me
ful encounter.-But our dresses, George, you Madam, I-I-I-as yet have studied-only-to
know, are in disorder.-What if we should post- deserve them.
pone the happiness till to-morrow?-To-morrow    Miss H. And that, some say, is the very worst
at her own house-it will be very convenient- way to obtain them.
and rather more respectful-To-morrow let it be.   Mar. Perhaps so, Madam; but I love to con[Offering to go. verse only with the more grave and sensible part
Miss N. By no means, Sir. Your ceremony of the sex-But I'm afraid I grow tiresome.
wll displease her. The disorder of your dress   Miss H. Not at all, Sir; there is nothing I like
will show the ardour ofyour impatience. Besides, so much as grave conversation myself; I could
she knows you are in the house, and will permit hear it for ever. Indeed I have often been su?you to see her.                             prised how a man of sentiment could ever admire
Mar. Oh! the devil! how shall I support it? those light airy pleasures, where nothing reaches
Hem! hem! Hastings, you must not go. You the heart.
are to assist me, you know. I shall be confound-   Mar. It's-a disease-of the mind, Madam.
Fdly ridiculous. Yet, hang it! I'll take courage. In the variety of tastes there must be some who,
them!                                        wanting a relish-for-um-a-um.
Hast. Pshaw, man!'tis but the first plunge,  MAIiss H. I understand you, Sir. There must
and all's over. She's but a woman you know.  be some who, wanting a relish for refined plea.
SMar. And of all women she that I dread most sures, pretend to despise what they are incapable
to encounter                                 of tasting.




SUENE I.]            SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.                                        401
Mar. My meaning, Madam; but infinitely bet- I take care to know every tete-a-tete from the
l.er expressed. And I can't help observing that Scandalous Magazine, and have all the fashions
in this age of hypocrisy-a-                  as they come out, in a letter from the two Miss
Aliss H. Who could ever suppose this fellow  Rickets of Crooked-lane. Pray how do you like
impudent upon some occasions! [Aside.] You this head, Mr. Hastings?
were going to observe, Sir-                    Hast. Extremely elegant and degagee, upon
AVar. I was observing, Madam-I protest, my word, Madam. Yourfriseur is a Frenchman,
Madam, I forget what I was going to observe.    I suppose.
Aliss H. I vow and so do I. [Aside.] You were   Mrs. H. I protest, I dressed it myself from a
observing, Sir, that in this age of hypocrisy, some- print in the Ladies' Memorandum-book for the
thing about hypocrisy, Sir.                  last year.
MUar. Yes, Madam; in this age of hypocrisy    Hast. Indeed! Such a head in a side-box at
there are few who upon inquiry do not-a-a-   the playhouse, would draw as many gazers as my
2Miss H. I understand you perfectly, Sir.  lady mayoress at a city ball.
Mlkar.'Egad! and that's more than I do myself.   MIrs. H. One must dress a little particular, or
[Aside. one may escape in the crowd.
_iss H: You mean that in this hypocritical age   Hast. But that cannot be your case, Madam,
there are few that do not condemn in public what in any dress.                 [Bowing.
they practise in private, and think they pay every    Mrs. H. Yet what signifies my dressing, when
debt to virtue when they praise it.          I have such a piece of antiquity by my side as
Mar. True, Madam;  those who have most Mr. Hardcastle? all 1 can say will not argue
virtue in their mouths, have least of it in their bo- down a single button from  his clothes. I have
9oms. But I see Miss Neville expecting us in the often wanted him to throw off his great flaxen
next room. I would not intrude for the world.   wig, and where he was bald to plaster it over, like
Miss H. I protest, Sir, I never was more agreea- my lord Pately, with powder.
bly entertained in all my life. Pray go on.    Hast. You are right, Madam; for, as among
Mlar. Yes, Madam, I was-but she beckons us the ladies there are none ugly, so among the men
to join her. Madam, shall I do myself the honour there are none old.
to attend you.                                Mrs. H. But what do you think his answer
Miss H. Well then, I'll follow.           was?  Why, with his usual Gothic vivacity, he
Mar. This pretty smooth dialogue has done for said I only wanted him to throw off his wig to
me.                             [Aside, exit. convert it into a tete for my own wearing.
Miss AH  Ha, ha, ha! Was there ever such a   Hast. Intolerable! at your age you may wear
sober, sentimental interview?  I'm  certain he what you please, and it must become you.
scarce looked me in my face the whole time. Yet   Mrs. H. Pray, Mr. Hastings, what do you
the fellow, but for his unaccountable bashfulness, take to be the most fashionable age about town?
is pretty well too. He has good sense, but then    Hast. Some time ago, forty was all the mode;
so buried in his fears, that it fatigues one more but I'm told the ladies intend to bring up fifty for
than ignorance. If I could teach him a little con- the ensuing winter.
fidence, it would be doing somebody that I know    MIrs. H. Seriously. Then I shall be too young
of a piece of service. But who is that somebody? for the fashion.
-that, faith, is a question I can scarce answer.  Hast. No lady begins now to put on jewels till
[Exit. she's past. forty. For instance, Miss there, in a
Enater TONY and Miss NEviLJE,,followed by polite circle, would be considered as a child, a
mere maker of samplers.
MRS. HARDCaSTLE and TIASTINTGS. mere maker of samplers.
Mrs. H. And yet Mrs. Niece thinks herself as
Tony. What do you follow me for, cousin Con? much a woman, and is as fond of jewels, as the
I wonder you're not asham'd tu be so very engag- oldest of us all.
ing.                                          Hast. Your niece, is she?. And that young
Miss N. I hope, cousin, one may speak to one's gentleman a brother of yours, I should presume?
own relations, and not be to blame.            Mirs. H. My son, Sir. They are contracted to
Tony. Ay, but I know what sort of a relation each other. Observe their little sports.  They
you want to make me though: but it wont do. I fall in and out ten times a day, as if they were
tell you, cousin Con, it wont do; so I beg you'll man and wife already. [ To them.] Well, Tony,
keep your distance; I want no nearer relation- child, what soft things are you saying to your
ghip.            [She follows, coquetting him. cousin Constance this evening?
Mrs. H. Well! I vow, Mr. Hastings, you are    Tony. I have been saying no soft things; but
very entertaining. There's nothing in the world that it's very hard to be followed about so. Ecod!
I love to talk of so much as London, and the I've not a place in the house now that's left to
fashions, though I was never there myself.  myself but the stable.
Hast. Never there! you amaze me! from your   Mrs. H. Never mind him, Con, my dear. He's
air and manner, I concluded you had been bred in another story behind your back.
all your life either at Ranelagh, St. James', or   Miss N. There's something generous in my
Tower-wharf.                                cousin's manner. He falls out before faces to be
Mirs. H. 0! Sir, you're only pleased to say so. forgiven in private.
We country persons can have no manner at all.   Tony. That's a damned confounded-crack.
I'm in love with the town, and that serves to  MSlrs. H. Ah! he's a sly one. Don't you think
raise me above some of our neighbouring rustics; they're like each other about the mouth, Mr.
but who can have a manner that has never seen Hastings?  The Blenkinsop mouth to a T. -
the Pantheon, the Grotto Gardens, the Borough, They're of a size too. Back to back, my prettied.
and such places where the nobility chiefly resort? that Mr. Hastings may see you. Come, Tony.
all 1 can do, is to enjoy London at second-hand.   Tony. You had as good not make me. [ tell vyot,
VOL. I.... 3 E      34*




402                SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.                                    [ACT Il.
Miss N. 0 lud! he has almost cracked my these parts, you might then talk of beauty. Ecod,.ead.                                       she has two eyes as black as sloes, and cheeks as
Mrs. H. 0 the monster! for shame, Tony. broad and red as a pulpit cushion. She'd make
You a man, and behave so!                   two of she.
Tony. If I'm a man, let me have my fortin.   Hast. Well, what say you to a friend that
Ecod! I'11 not be made a fool of any longer.  would take this bitter bargain off your hands'.
Mrs. H. is this, ungrateful boy, all that I'm to    Tony. Anon.
get for the pains I have taken in your education'    Hast. Would you thank him that would take
I, that have rocked you in your cradle, and fed Miss Neville, and leave you to happiness and
that pretty mouth with a spoon! Did not I work your dear Betsv y
that waistcoat to make you genteel?           Tony. Ay; but where is there such a friend,
Tony. But, ecod! I tell you, I'll not be made a for who would take her'.
fool of no longer.                            Hast. I am he. If- you but assist me, I'll enMrs. H. Was'nt it all for your good, viper? gage to whip her off' to France, and you shall
Wasn't it all for your good 2               never hear more of her.
Tony. I wish you'd let me and my good alone  -- Tony. Assist you! Ecod, I will, to the last
then. Snubbing this way when I'm in spirits. drop of my blood. I'll clap a pair of horses to
If I'm to have any good, let it come of itself; not your chaise, that shall trundle you off in a twinkto Keep dinging it, dinging it into one so.  ling, and may be get you a part of her fortin,
M rs. H. rThat's false; I never see you when beside, in jewels, that you little dream of.
you're in spirits. No, Tony, you then go to the   Hast. My dear'squire, this looks like a lad of
alehouse or kennel. I'm never to be delighted spirit.
with your agreeable wild notes, unfeeling monster!   Tony. Come along then, and you shall see
Tony. Ecod! mamma, your own notes are the more of my spirit- before you have done with'vildest of the two.                        me.                                [Singing.
Mlrs. H. Was ever the like? But I see he          We are the boys
wants to break my heart, I see he does.              Thatfears no noise
Hast. Dear Madam, permit me to lecture the         Where thundering cannons roar.
young gentleman a little. I'm certain I can per-                                [Exeunt.
suade him to his duty.
Mrirs. H. Well, I must retire. Come, Con-                  ACT III.
stance, my love.  You see, Mr. Hastings, the
wretchedness of my situation; was ever poor woman so plagued with a dear, sweet, pretty, pro-          Enter HARDCASTLE.
voking undutiful boy. [Exeunt MRS. HARDC:ASTLE and Miss NEVILLE.                     Hard. What could my old friend, Sir Charles,
Tony. [Singing.] There was a young man mean by recommending his son as the modestest
riding by,                          young man in town?  To me he appears as the
And fain would have his will. Rang do most impudent piece of brass that ever spoke with
dillo de.                           a tongue. He has taken possession of the easy
Don't mind her. Let her cry. It's the comfort chair by the fireside already. He took off his
of her heart. I have seen her and sister cry over boots in the parlour, and desired me to see them
a book for an hour together, and they said they taken care of. I'm desirous to know how his imliked the book the better; the more it made them  pudence affectsamy daughter —She will certainly
cry.                                        be shocked at it.
Hast. Then you're no friend to the ladies, I   Enter Miss HARnGASTLE, plainly dressed.
find, my pretty young gentleman.
Tony. That's as I find'em.               Well, my Kate,:I see you have changed youa
Hast. Not to her of your mother's choosing, I dress, as I bid you; and yet, I believe, there was
lare answer. And yet she appears to me a pretty no great occasion.
well-tempered girl.                           Aliss H. I find such a pleasure, Sir, in obeying
Tony. That's because you don't know her as your commands,' that I take care to observe them
well as I. Ecod! I know every inch about her; without ever debating their propriety.
and there's not a more bitter cantankerous toad   Hard. And yet, Kate, I sometimes give you
in all Christendom.                         some cause, particularly when I recommended my
Hast. Pretty encouragement this for a lover.   modest gentleman to you as a lover to-day.
[Aside.  3M1iss H. You taught me to expect something
Tony. I have seen her since the height of that. extraordinary', and I find the original exceeds the
She has as many tricks as a hare in a thicket, or description.
a colt, in the first day's breaking.          Hard. I was never so surprised in my life! He
Hast. To me she appears sensible and silent.  has quite confounded all my faculties!
Tony. Ay, before company. But when she's  M~iss H. I never saw any thing like it; and a
with her playmates: she's as loud as a hog in a man of the world too!
gate.                                         Hard. Ay, he learned it all abroad.
Hast. But there is a meek modesty about her   1Viss H. It seems all natural too him.
that charms me.                               thard. A good deal assisted by bad company,
Tony. Yes; but curb her never so little, she and a French dancing-master.
kicks up, and you're flung in the ditch.      M.iss H. Sure you mistake, papa! a French
Hast. %Well, but you must allow her a little dancing-master could never have taught him that
beauty-Yes, you must allow her some beauty.   timid look-that awkward address-that bashful
Tony. Bandbox! she's all a made up thing, mannernmun  Ah! could you but see Bet Bouncer of   Hard. Whose looks  whose manner, child' 




SCENE'I.]            SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER.                                      403
Miss H. Mr. Marlow's! his mauvaise honte,   Hast. But how have you procu'red them from
his timidity, struck me at the first sight.  your mother?
Hard. Then your first sight deceived you; for' Tony. Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you
I think him one of the most brazen first sights' no fibs. I procured them by the.rule- of thumb.
that: ever astonished' my senses.'   If I had not a key to every drawer'in: mother's
aMiss H. Sure, Sir, you rallyv  I never saw any  bureau, how could I go to the alehouse so often as
one so modest.                                I do?  An honest man may rob-himself of his
Hard. And can you be serious? I never saw  own at any time.
such a bouncing, swaggering puppy since I was   Hast. Thousands'do it-every day.. "But, to be
born. Bully Da wson was but a fool to him..    plain with youu,- Miss Neviille is endavouring. to.Miss H. Surprising! he met me with a respect- procure- thein from her aunt this verjyinstant. - If
ful bow, a stammering voice, and a look fixed on  she succeeds, it will be the most delicate way at
the ground.                                  least of obtaining them.
Hard. He' met me with'a loud voice, a lordly    Tony. Well, keep themn, till'you know  howit
air, and a familiarity that made my blood freeze will be  But I know how it will be, well enough:
again.., H                               she'd as soon part with the only sound tooth in
Mi/ss.: He treated me with diffidence and  her head...
respect; censured the manners ofthe age; admired    Hast. But- I dread the efbects of her resentment,
the prudence of girls that never laughed; tired  when she finds she has lost themn:.
me with apologies for being tiresome; then left    Tony.:Never you mind her resenitment, leave
the room with a bow, and, Madam, I would:not me to manage that.: I doi't'value -her:resentment
for the world detain you.'     the bounce of a cracker. Zounds! there they
HIard. He spoke to me as if he knew me all are. Morrice; prance.        [Exit HASTINGS.
his life before.'  Asked twenty' questions, and  Enternd 
never waited for an answer. Interrupted my best
remarks with some silly pun;  and when 1 was in    MIrs. H. Indeed, Constance, you amaze me.
my best story of the duke of Marlborough:and  Such a girl as you want jewels it will. be:time
prince Eugene, he asked me if I had not -a good  enough for je"welsmy-dear, twenty years' hence
hand at making punch.  Yes, Kate, he asked  when your beauty begins to want repairs.:
your father if he'was a maker of punch.       Miss N. But what will repair: beauty' at forty,
Mliss H. One of us must certainly be mistaken.  will certainly improve it at twenty; Madam.
Hard. If he be what he has shown himself, I'm    Mrs. H. Yours, my dear, can admit of none.
determined he shall never have my consent.   That natural blush is beyond'a thousand ornaMiss H. And if he be the sullen thing I take  ments. Besides, child, jewels are quite out at
him, he shall never have mine.               present. Don't you see half the ladies of our acHard. In one thing then weeare agreed-to  quaintance, my lady Kill-day-light,; and Mr.
reject him.                                  Crump, and the rest.of them, carry their jewels
Miss H  Yes, but upon conditions. For ifyou  to- town, and bring nothing but paste and marshould'find him less impudent, and I more pre:re-  asites back.::
suming; if you'fi nd him more respectful, afnd I   Miss N. But who knows, Madam,- but somemore importunate-I don't know-the fellow is body that shall be nameless would like me best
well enough for a man-Certainly we don't meet'  with all my finery about me I
many such at a horse race in the country.      Mrs. H. Consult your glass,'my'dear, and then
Hard. If we should find him so?  But that's  see if, with such a pair' of eyes, you want any
impossible. The first appearance has done my  better sparklers. What do you think, Tony, my
business'. I'm seldom rn:deceived in that.'   dear, does your cousin Con'want any jewels, in
Miss H. And yet there may be many good  your eyes to set off her beauty!
qualities under that first appearance. But as one    Tony. That's as hereafter may be.
of us must be mistaken, what if we go to make     Miss N. My dear aunt, if you knew how -it
farther discoveries'?'                 would oblige me.
Hard. Agreed. -But depend on't I'm'in the'Mrs. H. A parcelof old fashioned rose and table
tight.                                       cut things. - They would make you look like the
Miss H. And depend on't I'm not much in the  court ofking Solomon at a puppet-show. - Besides,
wrong.                             [Exeunt. I believe I can't readily come at them. - They may
Enter TONY,'running Zwith a caski~et.   a be missing, for aught I know, to the contrary.
er TONY -running with a casket.  Tony. [Apart to MRS. HARDcAs TLE.]  Then
Tony. Ecod! I havegot them. Here they are. why don't you tell her so-:at- once, as she's so
My cousin Con's necklaces, bobs and all. My- longing for them. Tell herthey're lost, It's the
mother sha'n't cheat the poor souls out of their' only way to quiet her. Sav they're lost, and call
fortune, neither; O! my genius, is' that you' me to bear witness.: R Enter HASTINGS.'  Mrs. H. [Apart to ToNY.j' You know, my dear,
I'm only keeping them for you. So, if I say
Hast. My dear friend, how have you managed  they're gone, you'll bear me witness, will you? he,
with your mother?:I hope you have amused her he, he!
with pretending love for your cousin, and that    Tony. Never fear me. Ecod! I'll say I saw
you are willing to be reconciled' at last: our horses them taken out with mine own eyes.
will be refreshed in a short time, and we shall   Miss N. I desire them but for a day, Madam.
soon be ready to set off.'Just to be permitted to show them as relics, and
Tony. And here's something to bear your then they' may be'locked up. again. 
charges by the way. [Giving the casket.] Your   Mrs. H. To be plain with you, my dear Con.
sweetheart's jewels. -Keep therm, and hang those, stance, if I could find' them,' you'should -hayr
I say, that would rob you of one of them.'them. They're missing l assure you. Lost, frr




404                 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.                                    [ACrTiiL
aught I know; but we must have patience wher- suspect either of us. I'll bear witness that they
ever they are.                              are gone.
Miss N. I'll not believe it! this is but a shallow    Mrs. H. Can you bear witness that you're no
pretence to deny me. I know they're too valuable better than a fool?  Was ever poor woman -e
to be so slightly kept, and as you are to answer for beset with fools on one hand and thieves on the
the loss.                                   other!
Mrs. H. Don't be alarmed, Constance. If they    Tony. I can bear witness to that.
be lost, I must restore an equivalent. But my   Mrs. H. Bear witness again, you blockilead
son knows they are missing, and not to be found. you, and I'll turn you out of the room directly,
7Tony. That I can bear witness to. They are My poor niece, what will become of her! Do you
missing, and not to be found, I'll take my oath laugh, you unfeeling brute, as if you enjoyed my
)n't.                                       distress 
Mrs. H. You must learn resignation, my dear;   Tony. I can bear witness to that.
for though we lose our fortune, yet we should not   Mrs. H. Do you insult me, monster? I'll teach
lose our patience. See me, how calm I am.    you to vex your mother, I will.
7/iss 7N. Ay, people are generally calm at the    Tony. I can bear witness to that.
misfortunes of others.                           [Runs of; MRS. HARDCASTLEfOllows him,
_Mirs. H. Now I wonder a girl of your good     Enter Miss HARDCAn TLc L and MAID.
sense should waste a thought upon such trumpery.
We shall soon-find them; and, in the mean time,   Miss H. What an unaccountable creature is
you shall make use of my garnets till your jewels that brother of mine, to send them to the house
he found.                                   as an inn, ha, ha! I don't wonder at his impuMiss N. I detest garnets.                 dence.
1Mrs. H. The most becoming things in the   Maid. But what is more, Madam, the young
world, to set. off a clear complexion. You have gentleman, as you passed by in your present dress,
often seen how well they look upon me. You asked me if you were the bar-maidS He misshall have them.                     [Exit. took you for the bar-maid, Madam.
MAiss N. I dislike them of allthings. You sha'n't   Mliss H. Did he? Then as I live I/n resolved
stir-Was ever any thing so provoking, to mislay to keep up the delusion. Tell me, how do you
my own jewels, and force,me to wear trumpery.  like my present dress?  Don't you think I look
Tony. Don't be a fool. If she gives you the something like Cherry in the Beaux' Stratagem.
garnets, take what you can get. The jewels are   Maid. It's the dress, Madam, that every lady
your own already. I have stolen them out of her wears in the country, but when she visits or rebureau, and she does not know it. Fly to your ceives company.
spark, he'll tell you more of the matter. Leave   Ml/liss H. And are you sure he does not rememme to manage her.                           ber my face or person?
Miss N. My dear cousin.                     Mlaid. Certain of it.
Tony. Vanish. She's here, and has missed   Miss H. I vow I thought so; for though we
them already. Zounds! how she fidgets and spits spoke for some time together, yet his fears were
about like a Catharine wheel.               such, that he never once looked up during the
interview. Indeed if he had, my bonnet would
have kept him from seeing me.
Mrs. H. Confusion! thieves! robbers! We   Mlaid. But what do you hope from keeping him
are cheated, plundered, broke open, undone.  in his mistake?
Tony. What's the matter, what's the matter,   Miss H. In the first place, I shall be seen; and
mamma? I hope nothing has happened to any of that is no small advantage to a girl who brings
the good family.                            her face to market. Then I shall perhaps make
Mrs. H. We are robbed. My bureau has been an acquaintance; and that's no small victory
broke open, the jewels taken out, and I'm undone. gained over one who never addresses any but the
Tony. Oh! is that all  Ha, ha, ha! By the wildest of her sex. But my chief aim is to take
laws, I never saw it better acted in my life. Ecod, my gentleman off his guard, and like an invisible
I thought you was ruin'd in earnest, ha, ha, ha!  champion of romance, examine the giant's force
Mrs. H. Why, boy, I am ruined in earnest. before I offer to combat.
My bureau has been broke open, and all taken    Maid. But are you sure you can act your part,
away.                                       and disguise your voice, so that he may mistake
Tony. Stick to that! ha, ha, ha! stick to that; that, as he has already mistaken your person.
call me to bear witness.                      Miss H. Never fear me. I think I have got
Mrs. H. I tell you, Tony, by all that's precious, the true bar cant-Did your honour call?-Atthe jewels are gone, and I shall be ruined for tend the Lion there-Pipes and tobacco for the
ever.                                       Angel-The Lamb has been outrageous this half
Tony. Sure I know they're gone, and I am to hour.
say so.                                       Maid. It will do, Madam, but he's here.
Mrs. H. My dearest Tony, but hear me. —                                         [Exit.
They're gone, I say.
Tony. By the laws, mamma, you make me for               Enter MARLOW.
to laugh, ha, ha, ha! I know who took them well   Mar. What a bawling in every part of the
enough, ha, ha, ha!                        house! 1 have scarce a moment's repose. If I go
Mrs. H. Was there ever such a blockhead, that to the best room, there I find my host and his story.
can't tell the difference between jest and earnest. If I fly to the gallery, there we have my hostess
I tell you I'm not in jest, booby.          with her courtesy down to the grouhd. I have
Tony. That's right, that's right: you must at last got a moment to myself, and now for re.
be in a bitter passion, and then nobody will collection.              [Walks and muses




SCENEI.]              SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.                                       40b
Miss H. Did you call, Sir? did your honour  MJar. Yes, my dear, a great favourite. And
call?                                        yet, hang me, I don't see what they find in me to
Mar. [Musing.]  As for Miss Hardcastle, follow. At the ladies' club in town, I'm called
she's too grave and sentimental for me.      their agreeable Rattle. Rattle, child, is not my
Miss H. Did your honour call?              real name, but one I'm known by. My name is
[She still places herself before him, he turn- Solomons. Mr. Solomons, my dear, at your sering away.                           vice.                 [Offering to salute her.
MIar. No, child. [Musing.] Besides, from the    Miss H. Hold, Sir, you were introducing me
glimpse I had of her, I think she squints.   to your club, not to yourself. And you're so great
Miss H. I'm sure, I heard the bell ring.   a favourite there, you say?
Mar. No, no. [Musingj.] I have pleased my    Mar. Yes, my dear. There's Mrs. Mantrap,
father, however, by coming down, and I'll to- Lady Betty Blackleg, the Countess of Sligo, Mrs.
morrow please myself by returning.           Longhorns, old Miss Biddy Buckskin, and your
[Takes his tablets and reads. humble servant, keep up the spirit of the place.
Miss H. Perhaps the other gentleman called,   Miss H. Then it's a very merry place, I sup~
Sir.                                         pose?
Mar. I tell you, no.                         Mlar. Yes, as merry as cards, supper, wine, and
Miss H. I should be glad to know, Sir. We  old women can make us.
have such a parcel of servants.                MissH. And their agreeable Rattle, ha, ha, ha!
Mar. No, no, I tell you. [Looks full in her   Mar.'Egad! I don't quite like this chit. She
face.] Yes, child, I think I did call. I wanted- looks knowing, methinks. [Aside.] You laugh,
I wanted-I vow, child, you are vastly handsome. child!
MIiss H. 0 la, Sir, you'll make one ashamed.  Miss H. I can't but laugh to think what time
Mar. Never saw a more sprightly, malicious they all have for minding their work or their
eye. Yes, yes, my dear, I did call. Have you  family.
got any of your-a-what d'ye call it, in the house?   Mar. All's well, she don't laugh at me. [Aside.]
_Miss H. No, Sir, we have been out of that these Do you ever work, child?
ten days.                                      Miss H. Ay, sure. There's not a screen or
lIar. One may call in this house, I find, to very a quilt in the whole house but what can bear witlittle purpose. Suppose I should call for a taste, ness to that.
just by way of trial, of the nectar of your lips;   Mar. Odso! Then you must show me your
perhaps I might be disappointed in that too.  embroidery. I embroider and draw patterns my.
Miss H. Nectar! nectar! that's a liquor self a little. If you want a judge of your work,
there's no call for in these parts. French, I sup- you must apply to me.  [Seizing her hand.
pose. We keep no French wines here, Sir.       Miss H. Ay, but the colours don't lookwell by
Mar. Of true English growth, 1 assure you.   candle-light. You shall see all in the morning.
AIiss H. Then it's odd I should not know it.                                [Struggles.
We brew all sorts of wines in this house, and I   Mar. And why not now, my angel?  Such
have lived here these eighteen years.        beauty fires beyond the power of resistance.Mar. Eighteen years! why one would think, Pshaw-! the father here! My old luck! I never
child, you kept the bar before you were born. nick'd seven that I did not throw ames ace three
How old are you?                           times following.                      [Exit.
MI iss: H. 0! Sir, I must not tell my age. They
say women and music should never be dated.
Mar. To guess at this distance, you can't be   Hard. So, Madam!  So I find this is your
much above forty. [Approaching.] Yet nearer I modest lover. This is your humble admirer, that.
don't think so much. [Approaching.] By coming kept his eyes fixed on the ground, and only adored
close to some women they look younger still; but at humble distance. Kate, Kate, art thou not
when we come very close indeed-             ashamed to deceive your father so?
[Attempting to kiss her.   Miss H. Never trust me, my dear papa, but he's
LiMiss H. Pray, Sir, keep your distance. One still the modest man I first took him for: you'll
would think you wanted to know one's age as be convinced of it as well as I.
they do horses, by mark of mouth.             Hard. By the hand of my body I believe his
Mar. I protest, child, you use me extremely ill. impudence is infectious! Didn't I see him seize
If you keep me at this distance, how is it possible your hand?  Didn't I see him haul you about
you and I can ever be acquainted?          like a milkmaid? and now you talk of his respect
MIiss H. And who wants to be acquainted with  and his modesty, forsooth!
you?  I want no such acquaintance, not I. I'm    Miss H. But if I shortly convince you of his
sure you did not treat Miss Hardcastle that was modesty, that he has only the faults that will pass
here awhile ago in this obstropolous manner. I'll off with time, and the virtues that will improve
warrant me, before her you look'd dash'd, and  with age, I hope you'll forgive him.
kept bowing to the ground, and talk'd, for all   Hard. The girl would actually make one run
the world, as if you was before a justice of the mad; I tell you I'll not be convinced. I am conpeace.                                       vinced. He has scarcely been three hours in the
iMar.'Egad! she has hit it, sure enough. house, and he has already encroached on all my
[Aside.] In awe of her, child?  Ha, ha, ha! prerogatives. You may like his impudence and
A mere awkward, squinting thing. No, no. I call it modesty. But my son-in-law, Madam,
find you don't know me. I laugh'd, and rallied must have very different qualifications.
her a little; but I was unwilling to be too severe.   Miss H. Sir, I ask but this night to convince
PNo, I could not be too severe, curse me!    you.
liss H. 0! then, Sir, you are a favourite, I   Hard. You shall not have half the time;'for I
find, among the ladies?                     have thoughts of turning him out this very hour.




406                  SHIE STOOPS TO CONQUER.                                    [ACT V
IZliss -H. Give me that hour then, and I hope to   Hast. To the landlady!
satisfy you.                                    MIJar. The landlady.
Hard. Well, an hour let it be then. But 1'll   Hast. You did?
have no trifling with your father. All fair - and:  Mar. I did. She's to be answerable for its forthopen, do you mind me.               [Exeunt. coming, you know.
Hast. Yes, she'll bring it forth, with a witness
Mar. Wasn't I right?  I believe you'll allow
SCENE I.-An old-fashioned House.        that I acted prudently upon this occasion.
Hast. He must not see my uneasiness. [Aside.
Mar. You seem a little disconcerted though,
Mar. I wonder what Hastings could mean by methinks. Sure nothing has happened?
sending me so valuable a thing as a casket to keep   Hast. No, nothing. Never was in better spirits
for him, when he knows the only place I have is in all my life. And so you left it with the landthe seat of a post-coach at an inn-door. Have you lady, who, no doubt, very readily undertook the
deposited the casket with the landlady, as I ordered charge?
you? Have you put it into her own hands?  Mar. Rather too readily. For she not only
Serv. Yes, your honour.                    kept the casket, but, through her great precaution,
Mar. She said she'd keep it safe, did she?  was going to keep the messenger too. Ha, ha, ha!
Serv. Yes, she said she'd keep it safe enough;   Hast. He, he, he I They're safe, however.
she asked me: how I came by it  and she said she   Mcar. As a guinea in a miser's purse.
had a great mind to make me give an account of   Hast. So now all hopes of fortune are at an
myself.                               [Exit. end, and we must set off without it. [Aside.]
M]Iar;  Ha, ha, ha! They're safe, however. Well, Charles, I'll leave you to your meditations
What an unaccountable set of beings have we on the pretty bar-maid, and, he, he, he! may
got amongst! This little bar-maid, though, runs you be as successful for yourself as you have been
in my head most strangely, and drives out the for me.                                [Exit.
absurdities of all the rest of the family. She's   Mar. Thank ye, George; I ask no more. Ha,
mine, she must be mine, or I'm greatly mistaken. ha, ha!
Enter HASTINGS.                             Enter HARDCASTLE.
Hast. Bless me! I quite forgot to tell her that   Hard. I no longer know my own house. It's
I intended to prepare at the bottom of the garden. turned all topsy-turvy. His servants have got
Marlow here, and in-spirits too!             drunk already. I'll bear it no longer; and yet
Mtar. Give me joy, George!: Crown me, sha- from my respect for his father, I'll be calm. [Aside.]
dow me with laurels! Well, George, after all, Mr. Marlow, your servant, I'm your humble serwe modest fellows don't want for success among vant.                         [Bowing low.
the women.                                     Mloar. Sir, your humble servant.-What's to
Hast. Some women, you mean. But what be the wonder now?                          [Aside.
success has your honour's modesty been crowned   Hard. I believe, Sir, you must be sensible, Sir,
with now, that it grows so insolent upon us?  that no man alive ought to be more welcome than
Mar. Didn't you see the tempting, brisk, lovely, your father's son, Sir. I hope you think so.
little thing that runs about the house with a bunch    M /ar. I do from my soul, Sir. I don't want
of keys to its girdle?                      much entreaty. I generally make my father's son
Hast. Well! and what then?.                welcome wherever he goes.
Mar. She's mine, you rogue you. Such fire,   Hard. I believe you do, from my soul, Sir.
such motion, such eyes, such lips-but, egad! But though I say nothing to your own conduct,
she would not let me kiss them though.       that of your servants is insufferable.  Their manHast. But are you so sure, so very sure of ner: of drinking is setting a very bad example in
her?                                        this house, I assure you.
Alar. Why, man, she talked of showing me    Mar. I protest, my very good Sir, that's no
ner work above stairs, and I'm to improve the fault of mine. If they don't drink as they ought,
pattern.         -                           they are to blame: I order'd them not to spare the
Hoist.- But how can you, Charles, go about.to cellar; I did, I assure you. [ To the side Scene.]
rob a woman of her honour              -    Here, let one of my servants come up. [ To HARD.]
~Mar.: Pshaw! pshaw! We all know the ho- My positive directions were, that as I did not
nour of the bar-maid of an-inn. I don't intend to drink myself, they should make up for my defirob her, take my word for it; there's nothing in ciencies below.
this house I sha'n't honestly pay-for.         Hard. Then they had your orders for whatHast. I believe the girl has virtue.       they do! I'm satisfied.
M lar. And if she has;:I should be the last man    MIar. They had, I assure you: you shall heat
in the world that would attempt to corrupt it.    from one of themselves.'Hast. You have taken care, I hope, of the
casket I sent you to lock up? It's in safety          Enter SERVANT, drunk.
Mfar. Yes, yes.  It:'s safe enough. 1 have You, Jeremy! Come forward, sirrah! What
taken care of it. But how could you think the were my orders? Were you not told to drink
seat of a post-coach at an inn-door a place of freely, and call for what you thought fit, for the
safety?  Ah, numskull! I have taken better pre- good of the house?
cautions for you than you did for yourself-  I   Hard. I begin to lose my patience.   [Aside.
have-;                               Jer. Please your honour, liberty and FleetHast. What                                 street for ever, though I'm but a servant, I'm as
~far.; I have sent it to the landlady to keep for good as another man; I'll drink for no man beyou.                                         fore supper, Sir, damme! Good liquor will sit




.erstr ~.]           S-HE STOOP S TO  C ONQU E R.                                   407
upon a good: supper, but a good supper will not sit: I believe he begins to find out his mistake, but
upon —hiccup-upon my conscience, Sir.        it's too soon quite to undeceive him.  [Aside.
Mar.  You see, my old friend, the fellow is as   Mar. Pray, child, answer me one question.
drunk as he can possibly be. I don't know what: What are you, and what may your business in
~"ou'd have more, unless you'd. have the poor the house be.
devil soused in a beer barrel.                  Miss H. A relation of the family, Sir.
Hard. Zounds! he'll drive me distracted if I   M.ar.:  What, a poor relation?
contain myself any longer. [Aside.] Mr. Marlow,   Miss H. Yes, Sir. A poor relation appointed
Sir,.I have submitted to your insolence for more. to keep the keys, and to see that the guests want
than four hours, and I see no likelihood of its com- nothing in my power to give them.
ing to an end. I'm now resolved to be master   Mar. That is, you act as the bar-maid of this
here, Sir, and I desire that you and your drunken inn.
pack may leave my house directly.              Mliss H. Inn! 0 law-What brought that in
2lMar. Leave your house!-Sure you jest, my your head? One of the best families in the county
good friend?  What, when I'm doing what I can to keep an inn. Ha, ha, ha! Old Mir. Hardto please you?                              castle's house an inn!
Hard. I tell you, Sir, you don't please me; so.   Mar. Hardcastle's house! Is this house Mr.
I desire you'll leave my house.              Hardcastle's house, child?
MIar. Sure you cannot be serious. At this   Miss H. Ay, Sir, whose else should it be?
time o'night, and such a night  You only meanl   Mar. So then all's out, and 1 have been damnato banter me.                                 bly imposed on. 0, confound my stupid head, I
Hard. I tell you, Sir, I'm serious; and, now  shall be laughed at over the whole town. I shall
that my passions are roused, I say this house is be stuck up:in caricatura in all the print shops.
moine, Sir; this house is mine, and I command' The Dullissirmo lMaccaroni.  To mistake this
you to leave it directly.                   I house of all others for an inn, and my father's old
Mar. Ha, ha, ha!. A  puddle in a storm. I: friend for an inn-keeper. What a -swaggering
sha'n't stir a step, 1 assure.you. [In a serious: puppy must he.take me for. What a silly puppy
tone.] This your house, fellow! It's my house. do I find myself. There again, may I be hanged,
This is my house. Meanwhile I choose to stay.' my dear, but I mistook you for the bar-maid.
What right have you to bid me leave this house,  -Miss H. Dear -me! dear me! I am sure there's
Sir?  I never met with such impudence, curse nothing in my behaviour to put me on a level
me, never in my whole life before.           with one of that stamp.
Hard. Nor I, confound me if I ever did. To.: Mar. Nothing, my dear, nothing. But I was
come to my house, to call for what he likes, to in for a list of blunders, and could not help making
turn me out of my own:chair, to insult-the family, you a subscriber. My stupidity saw every thing
to order his servants to get drunk, and then to the wrong way. I mistook your assiduity for
tell me, this house is mine, Sir. By all that's assurance, and your simplicity for allurement.
impudent it makes me laugh. Ha, ha, ha! Pray, But it's over.-This house I no more show my
Sir, [Bantering.] as you take the house, what face in.
think you of taking the, rest of the furniture?   Miss H. I hope, Sir, I have done nothing to
There's a pair of silver candlesticks, and there's disoblige you. I am sure I should be sorry to
a firescreen, and a pair of bellows, perhaps you affront any gentleman who has been so polite.
may take a fancy to them?.           and-said so many civil things to me. I am sure
Mar. Bring me your bill, Sir, bring me your I should be sorry [Pretendzng to cry.] if he left
-bill, and let's make no more words about it.  the family upon my account. I am sure I should
Hard. There are a set of prints too. What be sorry people said any thing amiss, since 1 have
think you of the Rake's Progress for your own no fortune but my character.
apartment 1                                    Mar. By Heaven, she weeps. This is the
Mar. Bring me your bill, I say; and I'll leave first mark of tenderness I ever had from a modest
you and your infernal house directly.        woman, and it touches me.            [Aside.
Hard. Then there's a bright, brazen warming-   3/Miss H. I am sure my family is as good as
pan, that you may see your own brazen face in.  Miss Hardcastle's, and though 1 am poor, that is
AMar. My bill, I say.                      no great misfortune to a contented mind, and until
Hard. I had forgot the great.chair, for your own this moment I never thought that it was bad to
particular slumbers, after a hearty meal.    want fortune.
ar.1.  Zounds! bring me my bill, I say, and    Mar. And why now, my pretty simplicity?
let's hear no more on't.                       MissH. Because it puts me at a distance from
Hard. Young man, young man, from your one, that, if I had a thousand pounds, I would
father's letter to me, I was taught to expect a give it all to.
well-bred, modest man, as a visitor here, but now  Afar. This simplicity bewitches me, so that if
I find him no better than a coxcomb and a bully; I stay I am undone. I must make one bold effort.
but he will be down here presently, and shallhear and leave her. [Aside.] Excuse me, my lovely
more of it.                           [Exit.  girl, you are the only part of the family I leave
Alar. How's this? sure I have not:mistaken with reluctance. But to be plain with you, the
the house! Every thing looks like an inn. The difference of our birth, fortune, and education make
servants cry, conning! The attendance is awk- an honourable connexion impossible; and I can
ward; the bar-maid too to attend us. But she's never harbour a thought of bringing ruin upon
here, and will further- inform me. Whither so:one, whose only fault was being too lovely. [Exit.
fast, child? a word with you.                   /iss H. I never knew  half his merit till
Enter Miss HARDCAS'TLE.            now.  He shall not go, if I have power or
art to detain him.  I will still preserve the
Aliss H. Letitbe short then; I'm in a hurry.-  character in which I stooped to conquer, bu




408                 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.                                    [ACT IV.
will undeceive my papa, who perhaps may laugh    Tony. I could wish to know, though.
him out of his resolution.        [Exit.         [Turning the letter, and gazing on it.
Enter TONY and MIss NEVILLE.             Miss N. [Aside.] Undone, undone. A letter
to him from Hastings. I know the hand. If my
Tony. Ay, you may steal for yourselves the aunt sees it, we are ruined for ever. I'll keep her
next time; I have done my duty. She has got employed a little, if I can. [To MRS. HARDthe jewels again, that is a sure thing; but she be- CASTLE.] But I have not told you, Madam, of
lieves it was all a mistake of the servants.  my cousin's smart answer just now to Mr. MarMiss N. But, my dear cousin, sure you wont low. We so laughed-You must know, Madamforsake us in this distress. If she in the least this way a little, for he must not hear us.
suspects that I am going off, I shall certainly be                         [They confer.
locked up, or sent to my aunt Pedigree's, which is   Tony. [Stillgazing.] A damned cramped piece
ten times worse.                            of penmanship as ever I saw in my life. I can
Tony  To be sure, aunts of all kinds are read your print-hand very well. But here there
damned bad things. But what can I do? 1 have are such handles, and shanks, and dashes, that one
got you a pair of horses that will fly like Whistle- can scarce tell the head from the tail. [To ANjacket, and I am sure you cannot say but I have THONY LUMPKIN, Esq.]  It's very odd, I can
courted you nicely before her face. Here she read the outside of my letters, where my own
comes; we must court a bit or two more for fear name is, plain enough. But when I come to
she should suspect us.      [Seem to fondle. open it, it is all-buz.  That's hard, very hard:
E~nter MRS. IHARDCASTLE.          for the inside of the letter is always the cream of
the correspondence.
Mrs. H. Well, 1 was greatly fluttered, to be   MIrs. H. Ha ha ha! Very well, very well.
sure. But my son tells me it was all a mistake And so my sm  was too hard for the philosopher.
of the servants. I sha'n't be easy, however, till   Miss N. Yes, Madam; but you must hear the
they are fairly married, and then let her keep her rest, Madam. A little more this way, or he may
own fortune. But what do I see! Fondling to- hear us. You'll hear how he puzzled him again.
gether, as I am  alive. I never saw Tony so   Mrs. H. He seems strangely puzzled now himsprightly before. Ah! have I caught you, my self, methinks.
pretty doves! What, billing, exchanging stolen    Tony. [Stillgazing.] A damned upand (down
glances, and broken murmurs' Ah!           hand, as if it was disguised in liquor. [Reading.]
Tony. As for murmurs, mother, we grumble Dear Sir, Ay, that's that. Then there's an M,
a little now and then, to be sure. But there's no and a T, and an S, but whether the next be an
love lost between us.                       izzard or an R, confound me, I cannot tell.
Mrs. H. A mere sprinkling, Tony, upon the   Mrs. H. What's that, my dear'! Can i give
flame, only to make it burn brighter'       you any assistance?
Miss N. Cousin Tony promises to give us more   Miss N. Pray, aunt, let me read it. Nobody
of his company at home. Indeed, he sha'n't leave reads a cramp hand better than I. [Twitching
us any more. It wont leave us, cousin Tony, theletterfromher.] Doyou knowwhoitisfrom'
will it 2                                      Tony. Can't tell, except from Dick Ginger, the
Tony. 0! it's a pretty creature.  No, I'd feeder.
sooner leave my horse in a pond, than leave you   Miss N. Ay, so it is [Pretending to read.]
when you smile upon one so. Your laugh makes Dear'squire, hoping that you're in health, as I am
you so becoming.                            at this present. The gentlemen of the Shake-bag
Miss N. Agreeable cousin! who can help club hascut thegentlemen ofthe Goose-green quite
admiring that natural humour, that pleasant, out of feather. The odds-um-old battle-umbroad,red, thoughtless-[Patting his cheek.] Ah! long fighting-um —here, here, it's all about
it's a bold face.                         cocks, and fighting; it's of no consequence, here,
TArs. I. Pretty innocence     c           put it up, put it up. [ Thrusting the crumpled
Tony. I am sure 1 always loved cousin Con's letter upon him.
hazel eyes, and her pretty long fingers, that she    Tony. But I tell you, Miss, it's of all the contwists this way and that over the harpsicholls, like sequence in the world. 1 would not lose the rest
a parcel of bobbins.                        of it for a guinea. Here, mothe r, do you make it
dMers. H. Ah, he would charm a bird from the out. Of no conseyou makuencee it
tree. I was never so happy before. My boy takes      [Givin g iIrs. HARDCASTLE the letter.
after his father, poor Mr. Lumpkin, exactly. The    Mrs. H. How's this'         [Reads.
jewels, my dear Con, shall be yours incontinently.
You shall have them. Isn't he a sweet boy, my    Dear'Squire,-I'm  noa waitingfor M/iss Tedear'  You shall be married to-morrow, and we'll ville, with a post chaise and pair, at the bottom of
put off therest of his education, like Dr. Drowsy's the garden; but I find my horses yet unable to
sermons, to a  fitter opportunity,          perform the journey. I expect you'll assist nme.  with a patr of fresh horses, as you promised.
Enter DIGGaoY.                Dispatch is necessary, as the hag ay, the hag,
Digg. Where's the'squire'  I have got a let- your mother, will otherwise suspect us.  Yours,
ter for vour worship.                                                       HASTINGS.
Tony. Give it to my mamma. She reads all Grant me patience. I shall run distracted. My
my letters first                            rage chokes me.
Digg. I had orders to deliver it into your own   AMiss N. I hope, Madam, you'll suspend your
nands.                                      resentment for a few moments, and not impute to
Tony. Who does it come from'             me any impertinence, or sinister design that beDigg Your worship mun ask that o'the letter longs to another.
itself.                                        Mrs. H. [ Courtesying very low.] Fine spoken,




SCENE.]             SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.                                       409
Madam, you are most miraculously polite and lies before me, I'm sure it would convert your reengaging, and quite the very pink of courtesy sentment into pity.
and circumspection, Madam. [Changing her   Mrs. H. [WTithin.] Miss Neville. Constance
tone.] And you, you great ill-fashioned oaf, with why, Constance, I say.
scarce sense enough to keep your mouth shut,   Miss N. I'm coming. Well, constancy. Rewere you too joined against met But I'll defeat member, constancy is the word.    [Exit.
all your plots in a moment. As for you, Madam,   Hast. My heart, how can I support this?  To
since you have got a pair of fresh horses ready, it be so near happiness, and such happiness!
would be cruel to disappoint them. So, if you    Mar. [To TONY.] You see now, young genplease, instead of running away with your spark, tleman, the effects of your folly. What might be
prepare, this very moment, to run off with me. amusement to you, is here disappointment, and
Your old aunt Pedigree will keep you secure, I'll even distress.
warrant me. You too, Sir, may mhount your horse,   Tony. [From a reverie.] Ecod, I have hit it.
and guard us upon the way. Here, Thomas, It's here. Your hands.  Yours and yours, my
Roger, Diggory; I'll show you, that I wish you poor Sulky. Meet me two hours hence at tile
setter than you do yourselves.       [Exit. bottom of the garden; and if you don't find Tony
Miss N. So now I am completely ruined.     Lumpkin a more good natur'd fellow than you
Tony. Ay, that's a sure thing.            thought for, I'll give you leave to take my best
Miss N. What better could be expected from  horse, and Bet Bouncer into the bargain. Come
being connected with such a stupid fool, and after along.                      [Exeunt..11 the nods and signs I made him  ACT V.
Tony. By the laws, Miss, it was your own
ileverness, and not my stupidity, that did your  SCENE I.-An old-fashioned House.
dusiness. You were so nice and so busy with Enter SIR CHARLES MARLOW and HARDCASTLP
your Shake-bags and Goose-greens, that I thought
you could never be making believe.             Hard. Ha, ha, ha! The peremptory tone in
which he sent forth his sublime commands.
Enter HASTINGS.                  Sir C. And the reserve with which I suppose
he treated all your advances.
Mast. So, Sir, I find by my servant, that you   Hard. And yet he might have seen something
nave shown my letter, and betrayed us. Was this in me above a common innkeeper, too.
well done, young gentleman?                   Sir C. Yes, Dick, but he mistook you for an
Tony. Here's another. Aslr Miss there who uncommon innkeeper, ha, ha, ha!
betrayed you. Ecod, it was her doing, not mine. Hard. Well, I'm in too good spirits to think of
Enter MARLOW.                 any thing but joy. Yes, my dear friend, this
union of our families will make our personal
Avar. So, I have been finely used here among friendships hereditary; and though my daughter's
vou.  Rendered contemptible, driven into ill- fortune is but smallmanners, despised, insulted, laughed at.       Sir C. Why, Dick, will you talk of fortune to
Tony. Here's another.  We shall have old me?  My son is possessed of more than a compeBedlam broke loose presently.               tence already, and can want nothing but a good,
AMiss N. And there, Sir, is the gentleman to virtuous girl to share his happiness, and increase
whom we all owe every obligation.           it. If they like each other, as you say they doMar. What can I say to him, a mere booby,   Hard. If, man. I tell you they do like each
an idiot, whose ignorance and age are a protection. other. My daughter as good as told me so.
Hast. A poor, contemptible booby, that would    Sir C. But girls are apt to flatter themselves,
but disgrace correction.                    you know.
Miss N. Yet with cunning and malice enough    Hard. I saw him grasp her hand in the warmest
to make himself merry with our embarrassments.  manner myself; and here he comes to put you
Hast. An insensible cub.                  out of your ifs, I warrant him.
Mlar. Replete with tricks and mischief.                 E
Tony. Baw! damme, but I'll fight you both,
one after the other-with baskets.             Mar. I come, Sir, once more, to ask pardon for
MAar. As for him, he's below resentment. But my strange conduct. I can scarce reflect on my
your conduct, Mr. Hastings, requires an explana- insolence without confusion.
tion. You knew of my mistakes, yet would not   Hard. Tut, boy, a trifle. You take it too gravely.
undeceive me.                               An hour or two's laughing with my daughter will
Hast. Tortured as I am with my own disap- set all to rights again.-She'll never like you the
pointments, is this a time for explanations? It is worse for it.
not friendly, Mr. Marlow.                      Mar. Sir, I shall be always proud of her approM/lar. But, Sir-                         bation.
Miss N. Mr. Marlow, we never kept on your   Hard. Approbation is but a cold word, Mr.
mistake, till it was too late to undeceive you. Be Marlow; if I am not deceived, you have something
pacified.                                    more than approbation thereabouts. You take
me.
Enter SERVANT.                me
Mar. Really, Sir, I have not that happiness.
Se-v. My mistress desires you'll get ready im-   Hard. Come, boy, I'm an old fellow, and know
mediately, Madam. The horses are putting to. what's what, as well as you that are younger.
Your hat and things are in the next room. We I know what has passed between you; but
are to go thirty miles before morning.  [Exit. munm.
Amiss N. I come. 0, Mr. Marlow! if you   Mar. Sure, Sir, nothing has passed between
knew what a scene of constraint and ill nature us but the most profound respect on my side.
VOL. I...3 F          35




410                  SHE, STOOPS TO CONQUER.                                  [AcT v,
and the most distant reserve on hers. You don't behind that screen, you shall hear him declare his
think, Sir, that my impudence has been passed passion to me in person.
upon all the rest of the family.               Sir C. Agreed. And if I find him what you
Hard. Impudence! No, I don't say that-  describe, all my happiness in him must have an
Not quite impudence.-Girls like to be played end.                                  [Exit.
with, and rumpled too sometimes. But she has   Miss H. And if you don't find him what I detcld no tales, I assure you.                scribe-I fear my happiness must never have a
Mar. May I die, Sir, if I ever-            beginning.                           [Eazt.
Hard. I tell you, she don't dislike you; and as  SCENE IIThe back ofa Garden.
I'm sure you like her,/lar.. Dear Sir, I protest, Sir- 
Hard. I see no reason why you should not be
joined as fast as the parson can tie you.      Hast. What an idiot am I, to wait here for a
Mar. But why wont you hear met By all fellow, who probably takes delight in mortifving
that's just and true, I never gave Miss Hard- me. He never intended to be punctual, and I'1
castle the slightest mark of my attachment, or wait no longer. What do I see?  It is he, and
even the most distant hint to suspect me of affec- perhaps with news of my Constance.
tion.  We had but one interview, and that was
formal, modest, and uninteresting.
Hard. This fellow's formal, modest impudence My honest'squire! I now find you a man of your
is beyond bearing.                  [Aside. word. This looks like friendship.
Sir C. And you never grasp'd her hand, or   Tony. Ay, I'm your friend, and the best fiiend
made any protestations?                     you have in the world, if you knew but all. This
Mar. As Heaven is my witness, I came down riding, by night, by the by, is cursedly tiresome.
in obedience to your commands. I saw the lady  It has shook me worse than the basket of a stage
without emotion, and parted without reluctance. coach.
I hope you'll exact no further proofs of my duty,   Hast. But how   Where did you leave your
nor prevent me from leaving a house in which I. fellow travellers? Are they in safety? Are they
suffer so many mortifications.       [Exit. housed?
Sir C. I'm astonished at the air of sincerity    Tony. Five and twenty miles in two hours
with which he parted.                        and a half, is no such bad driving.  The poor
Hard. And I'm astonished ar the deliberate in- beasts' have smoked for it. Rabbit me, but I'd
trepidity of his assurance.                  rather ride forty miles after a fox, than ten with
Sir C. I dare pledge my life and honour upon such varment.
his truth.                                     Hast. Well, but where have you left the ladies?
Hard. Here comes my daughter, and I would I die with impatience..
stake my happiness upon' her veracity.         Tony. Left them! Why, where should I leave
Enter Mthem, but where I found them?
Hast. This is a riddle.
Kate; come hither, child. Answer me sincerely,   Tony. Riddle me this, then. What's that
and without reserve; -has Mr. Marlow made you goes round the house, and round the hwuse, and
any [Professions of love and affection?     never touches the house?
Miss H. The question is very abrupt, Sir: but   Hast. I'm still astray.
since you require unreserved sincerity, I think he    Tony. Why, that's it, mon. I have led them
has.                                         astray. By jingo, there's not a pond or slough
Hard. [To SIR C.] You see.                within five miles of the place, but they can tell the
Sir C. Arid pray, Madam, have you and my  taste of.
son had more than one interview?               Hast. Ha, ha, ha! I understand; you took
Miss H. Yes, Sir, several.                them in a round, while they supposed themselves
Hard. [ To SIR C.] You see.               going forward. And so you have at last brought
Sir C. But did he profess any attachments   them home again.
-liss H. A lasting one.                      Tony. You shall hear. I first took them down
Sir C. Did he talk of love?              Feather-bed-lane, where we stuck fast in the mud.
Mliss H. Much, Sir.                       -1 then rattled them crack over the stones of UpSir C. Amazing! and all this formally?   and-down hill-1 then introduced them to the
Miss H. Formally.                         gibbet on Heavy-tree-heath-and from that with
Hard. Now, my friend, I hope you are satisfied. a circumbendibus, I fairly lodged them  in the
Sir C. And how did he behave, Madam?     horsepond at the bottom of the garden.
1M1iss H. As most professed admirers do.-    Hast. But no accident, I hope.
Said some civil things of my face, talked much    Tony. No, no. Only mother is confoundedly
of his want of merit, and the greatness of mine: frightened. She thinks herself forty miles off.
mentioned his heart, gave a short tragedy speech, She's sick of the journey, and the cattle can
and ended with pretended rapture.            scarce crawl. So, if your own horses be ready,
Sir C. Now I'm perfectly convinced, indeed. you may whip off with cousin, and I'll be bound
1 know his conversation among women to be that no soul here can budge a foot to follow you.
modest and submissive.  This forward, cant-   Hast. My dear friend, how can I be grateful.
infg,, ranting manner by no means describes    Tony. Ay, now it's dear friend, noble'squire.
him, and I'm  confident he never sat for that Just now, it was all idiot, cub, and run me
picture.                                    through the guts.  Damn your way of fightMliss H  Then what, Sir, if I should convince ing, I say. After we take a knock in this part
you to your face of my sincerity?. If you and my of the country, we shake hands and be fiiends.
papa, in about half an hour, will place yourselves But if you had run me through the guts, then 1




SCENE II.]            SHE  ST 00 PS  TO  C O.N Q U E R.                           411
should be dead,. and you might go shake hands:  Hard. But I heard a voice here;, I should be:With the hangman.                           glad to know from whence it came?
Hast. The rebuke is just. But I must hasten    Tony. It was I, Sir, talking to myself, Sir.
to relieve Miss Neville! If you keep the old lady I was saying that forty miles in three hours was
employed, I promise to take care of the young one. very good going. Hem. As to be sure it was
-  [Exit. Hem. I have got a sort of a cold by being out in
Tony. Never fear me. Here she comes. Va- the air.'We'll go in, if you please. Hem.
nish.! She's got into the pond, and is draggled   Hard. But if you talked to yourself, you did
up to the waist like a mermaid.              not answer yourself. I am certain I heard two
voices, and am resolved [Raising his voice.] to
Enter MRS. HARDCASTLE.            find the other out.
Mrs. H. Oh, Tony,m killed  Shook  Bat-   Mrs. H. [Runningforwardfrom behind.] Oh
Mrs. H. Oh, Tony, I'm killed! Shook! Bat- lud, he'll murder my poor boy, my darling.tered to death! I shall never survive it. That d, he'll murder my poor boy, my darling.Here, good gentleman, whet your rage upon
last jolt that laid us against the quickset-hedge has me. gTakemy money, whet your rage  that
done my business.                           me. Take my money, my life, but spare that
done my business.
Tony. Alack, mamma, it was all your own young gentleman, spare my child, if you have
fault. You would be for running away by night, any mercy.
Hard. My wife! as I am a Christian. From
without knowing one inch of the way.         whence can she come, or what does she mean
Miers. H I wish -we.were at'home again. I whence can she come, or what does she mean P
s. HI wshwe were at home again.    Mrs. H. [Kneeling.] Take compassion on us,
never met so many accidents inso short a journey. good Mr. Highwayman. Take our money, our
Drenched in the mud, overturned in a ditch, stuck  watches, all we have, but spare our lives. We
fast in a slough, jolted to a jelly, and at last to watches, all we have, but spare our lives. We
will never bring you to justice, indeed we wont,
-lose our way. Whereabouts do you think we are,
~Tony                                      good Mr. Highwayman.
Hard. I believe the woman's out of her senses.
Tony. By myguess, we should be upon Crack- What, Dorothy, don't you know me 
skull-common. about forty miles from home.     Mrs. H. Mr. Har
Mrs. K. O lu! O      themost noorious Mrs. H. Mr. Hardcastle, as I'm alive! My
Mrs. H. 0 lud! 0 lud! the most *notorious fears blinded me. But who, my dear, could have
ospot in'all -the country.  We only wanta robbery expected to meet you here, in this frightful place,
to make a complete niglh Don't t onbt. mamaso far from home'?-What has brought you to
Tony. Don't be afraid, mamnima, don't be afraid. follow us?
Two of the five that kept here are hanged, and   Hard. Sure, Dorothy, you 
the other three may not find us. Don't be afraid  ard.   Sure, Dorothy, you have not lost your
wits. So far from home, when you are within
it's thatonly a man tree.s gallopinn't    be afraid    us   N    forty yards of your own door. [To TONY.] This
It'Mrs. H. Three. ~Don'be frihtillcrtainlk  is one of your old tricks, you graceless rogue you.
ill certainly killO.. To mMRS. H.] Don't you know the gate and the
Tony. Do you see any thing like a black hat     
Tmoving beho Kouind the: thicket.ing like a  mulberry-tree; and don't you remember the horsemoving behind the: thicket.
iMrs. H. 0 death!                         pond, my dear?
Mrs. H. Yes, 1 shall remember the horsepond
mony. No' it! on't be a fraid.' as long as I live; I have caught my death in it.
mamma i don't be afraid.
M~zrs>.. -As -I'm alive, Tony, I see a man' [ To TONY.] And is it to you, you graceless varlet,
coming towards. s. Ah Il  Iam sure et  If    I owe all this? I'll teach you to abuse your
coming towards us. Ah! I amsureon't. If he
perceives us, we are undone.                mother, I will.
Tony. Father-in-law, by all: that's unlucky,   Tony., Ecod, mother, all the parish says you
have spoiled me, and so you may take the fruits
come to take one of his night walks. [Aside.] Ah, on't.
it's a highwayman -with pistols as long as my arm.   Mrs. H  I'll spoilyou I will  [Beats him o.
A damned ill-looking fellow.
1Mrs. H. Good Heaven defend us! he ap- Hard Ha, ha, ha!                         [E'it.
proaches.                                             SCENE III.-A Parlour.
Tony. Do you hide yourself in that thicket,
and leave me- to manage him. If there be any Enter SIR CHARLES MARLOW and MIss HARDdanger, I'll cough and cry hem. When I cough                   CASTLE.
be sure to keep close.:                     Sir C. What a situation am I in! If what you
[MRS. HARDCASTLE Ahides behind a tree in  say appears, I shall then find a guilty son. If
the back scene.                     what he says be true, I shall then lose one that,
-    En~ter HARDCASTLE.        of all others, I most wished for a daughter.
M1Iiss H. 1 am proud of your approbation, and
Hard.- I'm mistaken, or I heard the voices of to show I merit it, if you place yourselves as I
people in want of help. 0, Tony, is that you? I directed, you shall hear his explicit declaration.
did not expect you so soon back. Are your But he comes.
mother and her charge in safety?              Sir C. I'll to your father, and keep him to the
Tony. Very safe, Sir, at my aunt Pedigree's. appointment.                       [Exit.
Hem.
S~~fem. ~~~~~~~~Enter MARLOW.
Mrs. H.. [FTrom  behind.] Ah, death! I find
there's danger.                                Mar. Though prepared for setting out, I come
Hard. Forty miles in three hours; sure, that's once more to take leave; nor did I, till this motoo much, my. youngster.                     ment, know the pain I feel in the separation.
Tony. Stout horses and willing minds make   Miss H. [In her own natural manner.]. I beshort journeys, as they say. Hem.            lieve these sufferings cannot be very great, Sir,
Mrs. H.. [From'behind.] Sure, he'll do the which you can so easily: remove. A day or two
dear boy no harm.                            longer, perhaps, might lessen your uneasiness,
dear boy  no harm.~~~~~~~




412                 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.                                     [ACTrv.
by showing the little value of what you now think the loud, confident creature, that keeps it up with
proper to regret.                            Mrs. Mantrap, anti old Mrs. Biddy Buckskin, till
Mar. This girl every moment improves upon three in the morning, ha, ha, ha!
me. [Aside.] It must not be, Madam. I have:Mar. Oh, curse on my noisy head! I never atalready trifled too long with my heart, and nothing tempted to be impudent yet, that I was not taken
can restore me to myself, but this painful effbrt of down. I must be gone.
resolution.                                    Hard. By the hand of my body, but you shall
Miss H. Then go, Sir. I'll urge nothing more not. I see it was all a mistake, and I am rejoiced
to detain you. Though my family be as good as to find it. You shall not, Sir, I tell you. I know
hers you came down to visit, and my education I she'll forgive you. Wont you forgive him, Kate?
hope not inferior, what are these advantages with- We'll all forgive you. Take courage, man.
out equai affluence?  I must remain contented                [They retire, she teasing him.
with the slight approbation of imputed merit; I
must have only the mockery of your addresses,     Enter MRS. HARDCASTLE and TONY.
while all your serious aims are fixed on fortune.
Mrs. H. So, so, they're gone off. Let them go, I
Enter HARDCASTLE and Sin CHARLES MARLOW  care not.
from behind.                   Hard. Who's gone?
Mrs. H. My dutiful niece and her gentleman,
Mar. By Heavens, Madam, fortune was ever Mr. Hastings, from town; he who came down
my smallest consideration. Your beauty at first with our modest visitor here.
caught my eye; for who could see that without   Sir C. Who, my honest George Hastings?
emotion. But every moment that I converse with As worthy a fellow as lives, and the girl could not
you, steals in some new grace, heightens the pic- have made a more prudent choice.
ture, and gives it stronger expression. What at   Hard. Then, by the hand of my body, I'm
first seemed rustic plainness, now appears refined proud of the connexion.
simplicity. What seemed forward assurance, now
strikes me as the result of courageous innocence,  Enter HASTINGS and Miss NEVILLE
and conscious virtue. I am now determined to
stay, Madam, and I have too good an opinion of   Mrs. H. What! returned so soon? I begin
my father's discernment, when he sees you, to not to like it.                     [Aside.
doubt his approbation.                         Hast. [To HARDCASTLE.] For my late atMiss H. Sir, I must entreat you'll desist. As tempt to fly off with your niece, let my present
our acquaintance began, so let it end, in indiffer- confusion be my punishment.  We are now
ence. I might have given an hour or twoto levity, come back, to appeal from your justice to your
but seriously, Mr. Marlow, do you think I could humanity.  By her father's consent I first paid
ever submit to a connexion where I must appear her my addresses, and our passions were first
mercenary, and you imprudent? Do you think founded in duty.
I could ever catch at the confident addresses of a   Miss N. Since his death, I have been obliged
secure admirer?                             to stoop to dissimulation to avoid oppression. In
Mar. [Kneeling.] Does this look like security? an hour of levity, I was ready even to give up my
Does this. look like confidence?  No, Madam, fortune to secure my choice. But I'm now reevery moment that shows me your merit, only covered from the delusion, and hope from your
serves to increase my diffidence and confusion. tenderness what is denied me from a nearer conH]ere let me continue-                       nexion.
Sir C. I can hold it no longer. [Coming for-   Hard. Be it what it will, I'm glad they are
ward.] Charles, Charles, how hast thou deceived come back to claim  their due. Come, hither,
me! Is thisyour indifference, your uninteresting  Tony, boy. Do you refuse this lady's hand,
conversation?                               whom I now offer you?
Ilard. Your cold contempt; your formal inter-    Tony. What signifies my refusing?  You
view?. What have you to say now?             know I can't refuse her till I'm  of age, faMAlar. That I'm all amazement! What can it ther.
mean?                                         Hard. While I thought concealing your age,
Hard. It means that you can say and unsavy boy, was likely to conduce to your improvement,
things at pleasure. That you can address a lady I concurred with your mother's desire to keep it
in private, and deny it in public; that you have secret. But since I find she turns it to a wrong
one story for us, and another for my daughter.   use, I must now declare you have been of age
Mar. Daughter!-This lady your daughter?   these three months.
Hard. Yes, Sir, my only daughter, my Kate.   Tony. Of age! Am I of age, father?
Whose else should she be?                     Hard. Above three months.
M.4ar. Oh, the devil.                        Tony. Then you'll see the first use I'll
AIiss H. Yes, Sir, that very identical, tall, make of my liberty. [Taking Miss NEVIL,E'S
squinting lady you were pleased to take me for. hand.]  Witness all men by these presents,
[Courtesying.] She that you addressed as the that I, Anthony Lumpkin, Esquire, of Blankmild, modest, sentimental man of gravity, and the place, refuse you, Constantia Neville, spinbold, forward, agreeable Rattle of the ladies' club, ster, of no place at all, for my true and lawful
ha, ha, ha!                                  wife. So Constantia Neville may marry whom
Far. Zounds! there's no bearing this.      she pleases, and Tony Lumpkin ismhis own man
Miss H. In which of your characters, Sir, will again.
you give us leave to address you? As the falter-   Sir C. 0 brave squire!
Ing gentleman, with looks on the ground, that   Hast. My worthy friend!.aks just to be heard, ar.d hates hypocrisy; or   Mrs. H. My undutiful offspring!




3CENE III.]          SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.                                       413
Mar. Joy, my dear George, I give you joy   Hard. [Joining their hands.] And I say so
sincerely.  And could I prevail on my little too. And, Mr. Marlow, if she makes as good
tyrant here to be less arbitrary, I should be the a wife as she has a daughter, I don't believe you'll
happiest man alive, if you would return me the ever repent your bargain. So now to supper.
favour.                                      To-morrow we shall gather all the poor of the
Hast. [To Miss HARDCASTLE.] Come, Ma- parish about us, and the mistakes of the night
dam, you are now driven to the very last scene of shall be crowned with a merry morning; so, boy,
all your contrivances. I know you like him, I'm  take her: and as you have been mistaken in the
sure he loves you, and you must and shall have mistress, my wish is, that you may never be mishim.                                        taken in the wife.                 [Exeunt.
35'




BON TON:
OR,
HIGH LIFE ABOVE STAIRS.
A rPFAR CE,
IN TWO ACTS.
BY DAVID GARRICK, ESQ.
REMARKS.
THIS agreeable after-piece, which abounds with pleasantry, and possesses an excellent moral, was first peform.
ed at Drury Lane theatre, 1775, to recognise (in the words of the author) " the merit and integrity of Mr. Thomas
King, by bringing it out for his benefit, as a token of regard."
It is an additional proof of Mr. Garrick's useful talents, and always commands a well-deserved applause."This is a well-timed satirical piece, in which the profligate fashions of the age, imported from France and Italy,
and greedily swallowed by the high-born fools of London, are well contrasted with the plain downright manners
of an honest country gentleman, who, by an accidental visit to the metropolis, discovers a most shocking meta
morphosis in the morals of both sexes, and more especially exemplified among his own relations."
DRAMATIS PERSON E.
DRURY LANEF
LORD MINIKIN,........................................ Mr. R. Palmer.
SIR J. TROTLEY,................                        Mr. Dowton.
JESSAMY,...................................Mr.......... Mr. De Camp.
COLONEL TVY,......................................... Holland.
DAVY,................ Mr. Mathews.
LADY MINIKIN........ Mrs. Dormet
Miss TITTUP,.................  Miss Mellon.
GYMP.................i..........ss Tidswell.
ACT I.                      with a minx in a pink cardinal; you shall abse.
S C E NE  I.                  lutely burn yours, Tittup, for I shall never beoa
to see one of that colour again.
Enter LADY MINIKIN and Miss TITTUP.            Ji~ss T. Sure she does not suspect me!
Lady M. It is not, my dear, that I have the [Aside.]  And where was your ladyship, pray,
least regard for my lord; I had no love for him  when you saw him 
before I married him, and, you know, matrimony    Lady M. Taking the air with Colonel Tivy
is no breeder of affection; but it hurts my pride, in his vis-a-vis.
that he should neglect me, and run after other   Miss T. But, my dear Lady Minikini, how ca
women.                                        you be so angry that my lord was hurting your
U/iss T. Ha, ha, ha! how can you be so hy- pride, as you call it, in the hackney-coach, when
pocritical, Lady Minikin, as to pretend to un- you had him so much in your power, in the vieasiness at such  trifles! but pray have you a-vis.
made any new  discoveries of my lord's gal-   Lady AI. What, with my lord's friend, and
lantry?                                       my friend's lover! [Takes her by the hand.] 0
Lady M. New discoveries! why, I saw him  fie, Tittup!
myself yesterday morning in a hackney-coach,   Miss T. Pooh, pooh, love and friendship are
414




SCENE I.1                          BON  TON.                                      415
very fine names to be sure, but they are mere Tittup ever after-you'll excuse me, cousin" —
visiting acquaintance; we know their names in- and so he left me.
deed, talk of'em sometimes, and let'em knock at   Lady Al. 0, the barbarian!
olr doors, but we never let'em in, you know.
[Looking roguishly at her.
Lady M. I vow, Tittup, you are extremely    Gymp. A  card, your Ladyship, from  Mrs.
polite.                                      Pewitt.
P _iss T. I am extremely indifferent in these   Lady M/. Poor Pewitt! if she can be but seen
affairs, thanks to my education. We must marry, at public places, with a woman of quality, she's
you know, because other people of fashion marry; the happiest of plebeians.  [Reads the card.
but- I should think very meanly of myself, if, after   "Mrs. Pewitt's respects to Lady Minikin, and
I was married, I should feel the least concern at Miss Tittup; hopes to have the pleasure of atall about my husband.                       tending them to Lady Filligree's ball this evenLady.1. I hate to praise myself, and yet I ing. Lady Daiseyseesmasks." We'llcertainly
may with truth aver, that no woman of quality attend her-Gymp, put some message cards upon
ever had, can have, or will have, so consummate my toilet, I'll send an answer immediately; and
a contempt for her lord, as I have for my most tell one of my footmen, that he must make some
honourable and puissant Earl of Minikin, Vis- visits for me to-day again, and send me a list of
2ount Periwinkle, and Baron Titmouse-ha, those he made yesterday: he must be sure to call
ha, ha!                                    at Lady Pettitoes, and if she should unluckily be.M3iss T. But is it not strange, Lady Minikin, at home, he must say that he came to- inquire
that merely his being your husband, should cre- after her sprained ancle.
ate such indifference; for certainly, in every other   Miss T. Ay, ay, give our compliments to her
eye, his lordship has great accomplishments!    sprained ancle.
Lady M. Accomplishments! thy head is cer-   Lady A/l. That woman's so fat, she'll never
tainly turned; if you know any of'em, pray let's get well of it, and I am resolved not to call at
have'em; they are a novelty, and will amuse me. her door myself, till I am sure of not finding her
M11iss T. Imprimis, he is a man of quality.    at home. i am horribly low spirited to-day; do,
Lady M. Which, to be sure, includes all the send your colonel to play at chess with me,cardinal virtues-poor girl! go on!         since he belonged to you, Titty, I have taken a.MIiss T. He is a very handsome man.      kind of liking to him; I like every thing that
Lady M. He has a very bad constitution.   loves my Titty.                  [Kisses her.
MAFiss T. He has wit.                       Aliss T. I know you do, my dear lady.
Lady MM. He is a lord, and a little goes a great                           [Kisses her.
way.                                          Lady M. That sneer I don't like; if she susAMiss T. He has great good nature.        pects, I shall hate her: [Aside.] Well, dear Titty,
Lady M. No wonder-he's a fool.            I'll go and write my cards, and dress for the mas~Miss T. And then his fortune, you'll allow —  querade, and if that won't raise my spirits, you
Lady M. Was a great one-but he games, must assist me to plague my lord a little. [Exit.
and if fairly, he's undone; if not, he deserves to   Miss T. Yes, and I'll plague my lady a little.
be'hanged-and so, exit my Lord Minikin-  or I am much mistaken: my lord shall know
and now, let your wise uncle, and my good every tittle that has passed: what a poor, blind,
cousin, Sir John Trotley, baronet, enter: where half-witted, self-conceited creature this dear friend
is he, pray. and relation of mine is! and what a fine spirited'IMiss T. In his own room, I suppose, reading gallant soldier my colonel is! my Lady Minikin
pamphlets, and newspapers, against the enormi-. likes him, he likes my fortune; and my lord likes
ties of the times; if he stays here a week longer, me, and I like my lord; however not so much as he
notw-*ithstanding my rexpectations from him, I imagines, or to play the fool so rashly as he may
shall certainly affront him'.               expect. She mustbe very silly indeed, who can't
Lady IM. I am a great favourite, but it is im- flutter about the flame without burning her wings
possible much longer to act up to his very right- — what a great revolution in this family, in the
eous ideas of things;-isn't it pleasant to hear space of fifteen months! —we went out of Enghim abuse -every body, and every thing, and yet land, a very awkward, regular, good English
always finishing with a-you'll excuse me, cousin' family! but half a year in France, and a winter
ha' ha, ha!  -                              passed in the warmer climate of Italy, have riliss T. What do you think the Goth said'to pened our minds to every refinement of ease, disme'yes'terday. one of the knots of his tye hang- sipation, and pleasure.
ing down his left shoulder, and his fringed cravat
nicely twisted down his breast, and thrust through
his gold button-hole. which looked exactly like    Col. T. May I hope, Madam, that your
my little Barbet's'head in his gold collar —" Niece humble servant had some share in your last
Tittup," cries he, drawing himself up, " I protest'reverie  1
against this manner of conducting yourself, both  MAliss T. How is it possible to have- the least
at home and abroad."  What are your objections, knowledge of Colonel Tivy, and not make him
Sir John? answered I, a little pertly. " Various the principal object of one's reflections!
and manifold," replied he; " I have no time to   Col. T. That man must have very little feelenumerate particulars now, but I will venture to ing and taste, who is not proud of a place in the
prophesy, if you keep whirling round in the vor- thoughts of the finest woman in Europe.
tex of Pantheons, Operas, Festinos,'Coteries,   Mliss T. 0 fie, colonel!
Masquerades, and all the Devilades in this town,                  [Courtesies and blushes.
yeur head will be giddy, down you will fall, lose   Col. T. By my honour, Madam, I mean wbat
the name of I. ucretia, and be called nothing but I say.




416                               BON  TON.                                  [ACT 1.
Miss T. By your honour, colonel! why will parade in St. James' Park, to the stool and brush
you pass off your counters to me. don't I know  at the corner of every street, have their hair tied
that you fine gentlemen regard no honour but up-the mason laying bricks, the baker with his
that which is given at the gaming table; and basket, the post-boy crying newspapers, and the
which indeed ought to be the only honour you doctors prescribing physic, have all their hair tied
should make free with.                     up; and that's the reason so many heads are tied
Col. T. How can you, Miss, treat me so cruelly? up every month.
have I not absolutely forsworn dice, mistress,   Davy. I shall have my head tied up to-morrow:
every thing, since I dared to offer myself to you? -Mr. Whisp will do it for me-your honour anA
Miss T. Yes, colonel, and when I dare to re- I look like Philistines among'em.
ceive you, you may return to every thing again,   Sir J. And I shall break your head if it is tied
and not violate the laws of the present happy ma- up; I hate innovation; —all confusion and no dis.
trimonial establishment.                   tinction!-the streets now are as smooth as a
Col. T. Give me but your consent, Madam, turnpike road! no rattling and exercise in the
and your life to come —                    hackney-coaches; those who ride in'em are all
Miss T. Do you get my consent, colonel, and fast asleep; and they have strings in their hands,
['11 take care of my life to come.         that the coachman must pull to waken'em, when
Col. T. How shall I get your consent?   they are to be set down-what luxury and abomiMiss T. By getting me in the humour.     nation!
Col. T. But how to get you in the humour?  Davy. Is it so, your honour?'feckins, I liked
Miss T. 0, there are several ways; I am very it hugely.
good natured.                                Sir J. But you must hate and detest London.
Col. T. Are you in the humour now?         Davy.'How can I manage that, your honour,
Miss T. Try me.                          when there is every thing to delight my eye, and
Col. T. How shall I?                    cherish my heart?
Miss T. How shall I?-you a soldier, and not   Sir J.'Tis all deceit and delusion.
know the art military? —how shall I?-I'll tell   Davy. Such crowding, coaching, carting, and
you how;-when you have a subtle, treacherous, squeezing; such a power of fine sights, fine shops
polite enemy to deal with, never stand shilly shally, full of fine things, and then such fine illuminaand lose your time in treaties and parleys, but tions all of a row! and such fine dainty ladies in
cock your hat, draw your sword;-march, beat the streets, so civil and so graceless-they talk of
drum-dub, dub, a dub-present, fire, piff-pauff- country girls, these here look more healthy and'tis done! they fly, they yield-victoria! victoria! rosy by half.
[Running qf.   Sir. J. Sirrah, they are prostitutes, and are
Col. T. Stay, stay, my dear, dear angel!-    civil to delude and destroy you: they are painted
[Bringing her back. Jezabels, and they who hearken to'em, like JeMiss T. No, no, no, I have no time to be killed zabel of old, will go to the dogs! If you dare to
now; besides, Lady Minikin is in the vapours, look at'em, you will be tainted, and if you speak
and wants you at chess, and my lord is low spi- to'em you are undone.
rited, and wants me at picquet; my uncle is in an   Davy. Bless us, bless us!-how does your hoill humour, and wants me to discard you, atid go nour know all this? —were they as bad in your
with him into the country.                 time?
Col. T. And will you, Miss?               Sir J. Not by half, Davy-in my time, there
Miss T. Will I?-no, I never do as I am bid?  was a sort of decency in the worst of women;but you ought-so go to my lady.            but the harlots now watch like tigers for their
Cool.. NT.  ay, but Miss-              prey; and drag you to their dens of infamy-see,
Miss T. Nay, but colonel, if you wont obey Davy, how they have torn my neckcloth.
your commanding officer, you shall be broke, and                   [Shows his neckcloth.
then my maid wont accept of you; so march-   Davy. If you had gone civilly, your honour,
colonel! lookye, Sir, I will command before mar- they would not have hurt you.
riage, and do what I please afterwards, or I have   Sir J. Well, we'll get away as fast as we can.
been well educated to very little purpose. [Exit.   Davy. Not this month, I hope, for I have not
Col. T. What a mad devil it is!-now, if I had half my bellyful yet.
had the least affection for the girl, I should be   Sir J. I'll knock you down, Davy, if you grow
damnably vexed at this!-but she has a fine for- profligate; you sha'n't go out again to-night, and
tune, and I must have her if I can.-Tol, lol, to-morrow keep in my room, and stay till I can
lol, &c.                    [Exit singing. look over my things, and see they don't cheat you.
Davy. Your honour then wont keep your word
Enter SIR JOHN TROTLEY, and DAVY.    with me                              Sulkily.
with me?  [Sulkily.
Sir J. Hold your tongue, Davy; you talk like   Sir J. Why, what did I promise you?
a fool.                                      Davy. That I should take sixpen'oth of one of
Davy. It is a fine place, your honour, and I the theatres to-night, and a shilling place at the
could live here for ever!                  other to-morrow.
Sir J. More shame for you:-live here for   Sir J. Well, well, so I did; is it a moral piece,
ever i-!-what, among thieves and pickpockets!- Davy?
what a revolution since my time! the more I see,   Davy. O yes, and written by a clergyman; it
the more I've cause for lamentation; what a is called the Rival Canaanites, or the Tragedy of
dreadful change has time brought about in twenty Braggadocia.
years! I should not have known the place again,   Sir J. Be a good lad, and I wont be worse
nor the people; all the signs that made so noble than my word; there's money for you —Gives
au appearance, are all taken down;-not a bob him some.] but come straight home, for I shall
&w tye —wig to be seen! all the degrees, from the want to go to bed.




]CENE II.1                          BON   TON.                                    417
Davy. To be sure, your honour -as I am to go the hackney-coach; she did not know me, I beso soon, I'll make a night of it. [Aside, and exit. lieve; she pretends to be greatly uneasy at your
Sir J. This fellow would turn rake. and mac- neglect of her; she certainly has some mischief
caroni if he was to stay here a week longer-bless in her head.
me, what dangers are in this town at every step!   Lord M. No intentions, I hope, of being fond
O, that I were once settled safe again at Trotley- of me?
place!-nothing but to save my country should   Miss T. No, no, make yourself easy; she hates
bng me back again: my niece, Lucretia, is so be- you most unalterably.
fashioned and be-devilled, that nothing, I fear, can   Lord M. You have given me spirits again.
save her; however, to ease my conscience, I must   Miss T. Her pride is alarmed, that you should
try; but what can be expected from the young prefer any of the sex to her.
women of these times, but sallow looks, wild   Lord M. Her pride then has been alarmed
schemes, saucy words, and loose morals!-they ever since I had the honour of knowing her.
lie a-bed all day, sit up all night; if they are si-   Miss T. But, dear my lord, let us be merry
lent, they are gaming; and if they talk,'tis either and wise; should she ever be convinced that we
scandal or infidelity; and that they may look have a tendre for each other, she certainly would
what they are, their heads are all feather, and proclaim it, and thenround their necks are twisted rattlesnake tippets   Lord M. We should be envied, and she would-0 tempora, 0 mores!                         be laughed at, my sweet cousin.
Miss T. Nay, I would have her mortified tooSCEVNE II.                  for though I love her ladyship sincerely: I cannot say, but I love a little mischief as sincerely:
LORD MINIwIN discovered in his pooder.ng    but then if my uncle, Trotley, should know of
our affairs, he is so old-fashioned, prudish, and
Lord  f. Pr'ythee, Mignon, don't plague me out of the way, he would either strike me out of
any more; dost think that a nobleman's head has his will, or insist upon my quitting the house.
nothing to do but be tortured all day under thy    Lord lIl. My good cousin is a queer mortal,
infernal fingers? give me my clothes.        that's certain; I wish we could get him  handMig. Ven your loss your monee, my lor, you somely into the country again-he has a fine forno goot humour; the devil may dress your cheveu tune to leave behind him.
for me!                              fEit.    Miss T. But then he lives so regularly, and
Lord M. That fellow's an impudent rascal, never makes use of a physician, that he may live
but he's a genius, so I must bear with him. Our these twenty. years.
beef and pudding enrich their blood so much,   Lord M. What can we do with the barbarian'
that the slaves in a month forget their misery   Miss T. I dont know what's the matter with
and soup-maigre-O, my head!-a chair, Jessa- me, but I am really in fear of him: I suppose,
my i-I must absolutely change my wine-mer- reading his formal books when I was in the counchant: I can't taste his champagne, without dis- try with him, and going so constantly to church,
ordering myself for a week!-heigho.   [Sighs. with my elbows stuck to my hips, and my toes
turned in, has given me these foolish prejudices.
Enter Miss TITTUP.                 Lord M. Then you must affront him, or you'll
Miss T. What makes you sigh, my lord?    never get the better of him.
Lord 11I. Because you were so near me, child.    SIR JOHN TROTLEY, knocking at the door.
Miss T. Indeed! I should rather have thought   Sir J. My lord, my lord, are you busy?
my lady had been with you-by your looks, my              [LoRd  M. goes to the door, softly.lord, I am afraid Fortune jilted you last night.  Miss T. Heavens!'tis tat detestable brute
Lord. No, faith; our champagne was notmy uncle
good yesterday. I am vapoured like our English   Lord I. That horrid dog, my cousin 
November; but one glance of my Tittup can dis-   Miss T. What shall we do, my lord? [Siftly
pel vapours like —like —                       Sir J. [At the door.] Nay, my lord, my lord, I
Miss T. Like something very fine, to be sure; heard you; pray let me speak with you.
but pray keep your simile for the next time;-   Lord M. Ho, Sir John, is it you? I beg your
and harkye-a little prudence will not be amiss; pardon, I'll put up my papers, and open the door.
Mr. Jessamy will think you mad, and me worse.   Miss T. Stay, stay, my lord, I would not meet
[Half aside, him now for the world; if he sees me here alone
Jes. O, pray don't mind nme, Madam.       with you,' he'll rave like a madman; put me up
Lord M. Gadso, Jessamy, look out my domino, the chimney; any where.         [Alarmed.
and I'll ring the bell when I want you.       Lord M. I'm coming, Sir John! here, here, get
Jes. I shall, my lord; —-Miss thinks that every behind my great chair; he sha'n't see you, and
body is blind in the house but herself.     you may see all; I'll be short and pleasant with
[Aside, and exit. him.    [Puts her behind the chair, and opens
Tiss T. Upon my word, my lord, you must be            the door.
a little more prudent, or we shall become the town         Enter SIR JOHN.
talk.
Lord if. And so I will, my dear; and therefore  During this scene LORD M. turns the chair, a.;
to prevent surprise, I'll lock the door.  [Locks it.  SIR JOHN moves, to conceal TITTUP.
lLiss T. What do you mean, my lord?         Sir J. You'll excuse me, my lord, that I have
Lord,. Prudence, child, prudence. I keep all broken in upon you; I heard you talking pretty
nmy jewels under lock and key.              loud; what, have you nobody with you? what,
Miss T. You are not in possession yet, my were you about, cousin'2     [Looking aboult
lord; I can't stay two minutes; I only came to   Lord M. A particular affair, Sir John; 1 altell you, that Lady Minikin saw us yesterday in ways lock myself up to study my speeches, and
VOL. Ii...3 G




418                                BON   TON.                                   [ACT I.
speak'em aloud for the sake of the tone and   Lord M. Pr'ythee, baronet, don't be so horaction.                                      ridly out of the way; prudence is a very vulgar
Sir J. Ay, ay,'tis the best way; I am sorry I virtue, and so incompatible with our present ease
disturbed you;-you'll excuse me, cousin  and refinement, that a prudent man of fashion
Lord M. I am obliged to you, Sir John; in- is now as great a miracle as a pale woman of
tense application to. these things ruins my health; quality: we got rid of our mauvaise honte, at the
but one must do it for the sake of the nation.    time that we imported our neighbour's rouge, and
Sir J. May be so, and I h.ope the nation will their morals.
be the better for't-you'll excuse me  Sir J. Did you ever hear the like! I am not
Lord M. Excuse you, Sir John, I love. your surprised, my lord, that you think so lightly, and
frankness; but why wont you be franker still? talk so vainly, who are so polite a husband; your
we have always something for dinner, and you lady, my cousin, is a fine woman, and brought
will never dine at home.                     you a fine fortune,'and deserves better usage.
Sir J. You must know, my lord, that I love to   Lord M. Will you have her, Sir John'. she
know.what I eat;-I hate to travel, where I don't is very much at your service.
know my way; and since you have broughtlinfo-   SirJ. Profligate! What did you marry her
reign fashions and figaries, every thing and,.every for, my lord! 
body are in masquerade: your men and man-   Lord M. Convenience —Marriage is- not nowners too are as much frittered and fricaseed, as a-days, an affair of inclination, but convenience;
your beef and mutton; I love a plain dish, my lord.. and they who marry for love and such old-faMiss T. I wish I was out of the room, or he at shioned stuff, are to me as ridiculous as those that
tile bottom of the Thames.        [Peeping. advertise for. an agreeable companion in apostSir J. But to the point; —I came, my lord, to chaise.
open. my mind to you about my niece Tittup;   Sir J. I have done, my lord; Miss Tittup shall
shall I do it freely?                      either return with me into the country, or not a
Miss T. Now for it!                       penny shall she have from Sir John Trotlay, baLord Ki. The freer the better; Tittup's a fine ronet.         [ Whistles and walks about.
girl, cousin, and deserves all the kindness you can   /Miss T. I am frightened out of my wits!
show her.                                             [LoaRD MINIKIN sings and sits down.
[LORD MINIKIN and TITTIUP make signs at  -Sir J. Pray, my lord, what husband is this you
each other.                         have provided for her  
Sir J. She must deserve it though, before she   Lord AD. A friend of mine; a man of wit, and
shall have it; and I would have her begin with a fine gentleman.
lengthening her petticoats, covering her shoul-   Sir J. May be so, and yet make a damned husders, and wearing a cap upon her head.      band for all that. You'll excuse me!-What esMiss T. 0, frightful!             [Aside. tate has he, pray' 
Lord M2I. Don't you think a taper leg, falling   Lord MV. He's a colonel; his elder brother, Sir
shoulders,  and fine hair, delightful objects, Sir Tan Tivy, will certainly break his neck, and then
John.           my friend will be a happy man.
Sir J. And therefore ought to be concealed;   Sir J. Here's morals! a happy man, when his'tis their interest to conceal'em; when you take brother has broke his neck!-a happy manfrom the men the pleasure of imagination, there mercy on me:!
will be a scarcity of husbands;, and the taper   Lord M. Why, he'll- have six thousand a year,
legs, falling shoulders, and fine hair, may be had Sir Johnfor nothing.                                  Sir J. I don't care what he'll have, nor I don't.
Lord M. WVell said, Sir John; ha, ha!-your care what he is, nor who my niece marries; she
niece shall wear a horseman's coat and jack-boots is a fine lady, and let her have a fine gentleman;
to please you-ha, ha, ha!                   I sha'n't hinder her; I'll away into the country
Sir J. You may sneer, my-lord, but for all to-morrow, and leave you to your fine doings; I
that, I think my niece in a bad way; she must have no relish for'em, not I; I can't live among
leave me and the country, forsooth, to travel and you, nor eat with you, nor game with you: I hate
see good company and fashions; I have seen'qm  cards and dice; I will neither rob nor be robbed;
too, and wish from my heart that she is not much I am contented with what I have, and am very
the worse for her journey —you'll excuse me!    happy, my lord,' though my brother has not broke
Lord M. But why in a passion, Sir John'. his neck-you'll excuse me!           [Exit.
[LORD MINIKIN nods and laughs at Miss   Lord M. Ha, ha, ha! Come, fox, come out of
TITTUP, who peeps from behind.  - your hole! ha, ha, ha!
Don't you think that my lady and I shall be able   Miss T. Indeed, mYy, lord, you have undone
and willing to put her into the road'      me; not a foot  shall']have of Trotley Manor,
Sir J. Zounds! my lord, you are out of it that's positive! but no matter, there's no danger
yourself; this comes of your travelling; all the of his breaking his neck, so I'll even make mytown know how you and my lady live together; self happy with what I have, and behave to him
and I must tell you-you'll excuse nme!-that my for the future, as if he was a poor relation.
niece suffers by the bargain; prudence, my lord,   Lord M. [Kneeling, snatching her hand, arid
is a very fine thing.                       kissing it.] I must kneel and adore you for your
Lord M; So is a long neckcloth nicely twisted spirit, my sweet, heavenly Lucretia!
into a button hole, but I don't choose to wear one       Re-enter S  JOHN.
Re-enter SIR JOHN.
-you'll excuse me!
Sir J. I wish that he who firSt changed long   Sir J. One thing I had forgot   [Starts.
neckeloths for such things as you wean, had the   Miss T. Ha! he's here again!
wearing of a twisted neckcloth that I would give   Sir J. Why, what the devil!-heigho, my
him                                         niece Lucretia, and my' virtuous lord, studying




SCE NE:IL]                          BON  TON.                                      419
speeches for the good of the nation. Yes, yes, of coming home from the masquerade this evening;
you have been making fine speeches, indeed, my though 1 should pass for my niece, it would make
lord; and your arguments have prevailed, I see. an uproar among my servants; and perhaps from
I beg your pardon, I did not mean to interrupt the mistake break off your match with Tittup..
your studies-you'll excuse me, my lord!       Col. T. My dear Lady Minikin, you know my
Lord M.  [Smiling, and mocking him.] You'll marriage with your niece is only a secondary conexcuse me, Sir John!.           sideration; my -first -and principal object is you-,-.
Sir J. 0 yes, my lord, but I'm afraid the devil you, Madam!-therefore, my dear lady, give me
wont excuse you at the proper time —r-Miss Lu- your promise to leave the ball with -me; you must,
cretia, how do you, child? You are to be married Lady Minikin; a bold young. fellow and a; solsoon-I wish the gentleman joy, Miss Lucretia; dier as I am,:ought not to: be kept from plunder
he is a happyman to be sure, and will want no- when the town has capitulated. 
thing but the breaking of his brother's neck to be   Lady Iv. But it has not capitulated, and percompletely so.                               haps never will; however, colonel, since you are
i'!iss T., Upon my word, uncle, you are always so furious, I. must come to: terms,  think. Keep
putting bad constructions upon things; my lord your eyes upon me at the ball, I think I may exhas been soliciting me to marry his friend —anxd pect that,:and when I drop imy handkerchief,'tis
having that moment-extorted a consent fromme your signal:for pursuing; I -shall get home, as fast
— he was thanking-and-and-wishing me joy, as I can, you may. follow me as fast as you can;
-in his foolish manner.'    [Hesitating. my: lord and Tittup will be: otherwise minployed.,Sir J. Is that all!!-but how came you here, Gymp will let us. in the. backway..No, no, my
child? did you fly down the chimney, or in at heart misgives me...  
the window? for I don't remember seeing you    Col. T. Then lammiserablei
when I was here before.                       Lady M: Nay, rather than you should bi miMiss T. How can you talk so, Sir John? You serable, colonel, I will indulge your martial spirit;
really confound me with' your suspicions; and meet me in the field; there's my gauntlet.
then you ask- so many questions, and I have so.   T'hrows down her glove.
many things to do, that-that-upon my word, if   Col. T. [Seizing it.] Thus I accept your sweet
I' don't make haste, I sha'n't get my dress ready challenge; and, if I fail you, may I hereafter,
for the'ball, so I must run-You'll excuse me, both in love and war,. be- branded with the name
uncle!                     [Exit, running. of coward.        [Kneels and kisses her hand.
Sir J. A fine, hopeful, young lady that,: my lord?
Lord M7. She's well bred, and has wit.         Eter SIR JOHN, opening te door.
Sir J. She has wit and breeding enough.to   Sir J. May I presume, cousin —
laugh at her relations, and bestow favours on your   Lady M. Ha!                [Squalls.
lordship; but I must tell you plainly, my lord-    S'ir'J. Mercy upon us, what are we at now?
you'll excuse me-that your marrying your lady,              -           Looks astonished.
my cousin, to use -her ill, and sending for my   Lady AIl How.can you be:.so. rude, Sir John,
niece; your cousin, to debauch her,-        to come into a lady's room without first knocking
Lord M. You're warm, Sir John, and don't at the door? you have frightened me out of my
know the world, and I never contend with igno- wits.  
raitce and passion; live with me some time, -and   Sir J. I am sure you have: frightened nme out
you'll be satisfied of my honour and. good inten- of mine!
tions to you and, your family; in the mean time,   Col. T. Such rudeness deserves death!
command my house; I must away immediately to   Sir J. Death indeed! for. I never shall recover
Lady Filligree's-and I am sorry you wont make myself again.. All pigs of the- same. stye! all
one with us-here, Jessamy, give me my domino, studying for the good of the nation! 
and call a chair; and don't let my uncle want for   Lady'M. We must soothe him, and not proany thing; you'll excuse me, Sir John; tolI lol, voke him.         [Half aside to the COL.
de rol,&c.                   Exit, singing.   Col. T7  I would: cut his -throat, if you'd permit
Sir J. The world's at an end!-here s- fine me..               [Aside to LADY MiNIKIN.
work! here are precious: doings! this lord is a    Sir J.: The devil has got his hoof in the house,
pillar of the state too: no wonder that the build- and has corrupted the whole family; I'll get out
ing is in danger with such rotten supporters;-  of it as fast as I can, lest he should lay hold of me
high ho — and then.my poor Lady Minikin, what too...                     Going
a friend and husband she is blessed with. —let me   Lady M. Sir John, I must insist upon your
consider-!-should 1 tell the! good-woman of these not going away in a mistake.
pranks? I may only make more mischief, and    Sir J. -No mistake, my lady, I am thoroughly
may hap go. near to kill her, for she's as tender convinced —mercy on me!
as she's virtuous; poor lady! I'll e'en go and comn-   LadyI A. I must beg you, Sir John,..not to make
fort her directly, anld endeavour to draw her from  any wrong:cnstructions upon this accident; you.
the wickedness of this town into the country, must know, that the moment you was at the dool
where she shall have reading, fowling, and fish- -I had promised the colonel no longer to be his
ing; toI keep up her spirits, and when I die, I will enemy in his designs upon Miss Tittup,-this
leave her that part of my fortune, with which I threw; him into such a rapture,-that upon my
intended to reward the virtues of: Miss Lucretia promising my interest with you-and wishing him
Tittup, with a plague to her!  [Exit. joy-he fell upon his knees, and-and —[Laughing.] ha, ha, ha!
SCENVE II. -LADY MINIRIN's Apartment.    Col. T7. Ha, ha, ha! yes,- yes, I fell upon my
LADY MINIKIN and COLONEL TIVY discovered. knees, and-andSir J. Ay, ay, fell upon your knees, and-and
LadyM:   Don't:urge it, colonel; I tcan't think | —ha, ha!. a very-good joke, faith;, and the best




420i                              EBON  TON.                                   [ArT  1.
of it is, that they are wishing joy all over the house place better than I do; I was always reckoned an
upon the same occasion; and my lord is wishing incomparable mask.
joy; and I wish him joy, and you, with all my   Sir. J. Thou art an incomparaole coxcomb, I
heart.                                       am sure.                            [Aside.
Lady AM. Upon my word, Sir John, your cruel   Jes. An odd, ridiculous accident happened to
suspicions affect me strongly; and though my re- me at a masquerade three years ago; f was in
sentment is curbed by my regard, my tears can- tip-top spirits, and had drank a little too freely of
not be restrained;'tis the only resource my in- the Champagne, I believe.
nocence has left.             [Exit, crying.   Sir J. You'll be hanged, I believe.   [Aside.'Col. T. I reverence you, Sir, as a relation to   Jes. Wit flew about-in short, I was in spirits
that lady, but as her slanderer I detest you: her -at last, from drinking and rattling, to vary the
tears must be dried, and my honour satisfied; pleasure, we went to dancing, and who do you
you know what I mean; take your choice;-  think I danced a minuet with? he, he! pray
time, place, sword, or pistol; consider it calmly, guess, Sir John!
and determine as you please. I am a soldier, Sir   Sir J. Danced a minuet with!  [Half aside.
John.                                [Exit.   Jes. My own lady, that's all; the eyes of the
Sir J. Very fine, truly! and so, between the whole assembly were upon us; my lady dances
crocodile and the bully, my throat is to be cut; well; and I believe I am pretty tolerable: after
they are guilty of all sorts of iniquity, and when the dance, I was running into a little coquetry
they are discovered, no humility, no repentance! and small talk with her.
-the ladies have recourse to their tongues or   Sir J. With your lady 2 Chaos is come again.
their tears, and the gallants to their swords. That                              [Aside.
I may not be drawn in by the one, or drawn upon   Jes. With my lady-but upon my turning my
by the other, I'll hurry into the country while I hand thus [Conceitedly.]-egad, she caught me;
retain my senses, and can sleep in a whole skin. whispered me who I was; I would fain have
[Exit. laughed her out of it, but it would not do;-no,
ACT II.                    no, Jessamy, says she, I am not to be deceived:
~SC EN ivE - I               pray wear gloves for the future; for you may as
well go bare-faced, as show that hand and diaEnter SIR JOHN and JESSAMY.          mond ring.
Sir J. There is no bearing this! what a land   Sir J. What a sink of iniquity!-Prostitution
are we in! upon my word, Mr. Jessamy, you on all sides! from the lord to the pick-pocket.
should look well to the house, there are certainly [Aside.] Pray, Mr. Jessamy, among your other
rogues about it; for I did but cross the way just virtues, I suppose you game a little, eh, Mr. Jesnow to the pamphlet-shop, to buy a Touch of the samy?
Times, and they have taken my hanger from my   Jes. A little whist or so; but I am tied up from
side; ay, and had a pluck at my watch too; but the dice; I must never touch a box again.
I heard of their tricks, and had it sowed to my    Sir J. I wish you was tied up somewhere else.
pocket.                                     [Aside.] I sweat from top to toe! Pray, lend me
Jes. Don't be alarmed, Sir John;'tis a very your sword, Mr. Jessamy; I shall go to my room;
common thing; and if you walk the streets with- and let my lord and lady, and my niece Tittup,
out convoy, you will be picked up by privateers know, that I beg they will excuse ceremonies;
of all kinds; ha, ha!                       that I must be up and gone before they go to
Sir J. Not be alarmed when I am robbed!- bed; that I have a most profound respect and
why, they might have cut my throat with my own love for them, and —and-that I hope we shall
hanger! I sha'n't sleep a wink all night; so pray never see one another again as long as we live.
lend me some weapon of defence, for I am sure,   Jes. I shall certainly obey your commandsif they attack me in the open street, they'll be with what poor, ignorant wretches these country genme at night again.                          tlemen are!                  [ Aside, and exit.
Jes. I'll lend you my own sword, Sir John; be   Sir J. If I stay in this place another day, it
assured there's no danger; there's robbing and would throw me into a fever!-Oh!-I wish it
murder cried every night under my window; but was morning! this comesof visiting my relations!
it no more disturbs me, than the ticking of my
watch at my bed's head.
Sir J. Well, well, be that as it will, I must be So, you wicked wretch you-where have you
upon my guard. What a dreadful place is this! been, and what have you been doing?
but'tis all owing to the corruption of the times;   Davy. Merry-making, your honour.-London
the great folks game, and the poor folks rob; no for ever!
wonder that murder ensues; sad, sad, sad!-well,   Sir J. Did I not order you to come directly
let me but get over to-night, and I'll leave this den from the play, and not be idling and raking about)
of thieves to-morrow-how long will your lord   Davy. Servants don't do what they are bid, in
and lady stay at this masking and mummery be- London.
fore they come home?                          Sir J. And did I not order you not to make a
Jes.'Tis impossible to say the time, Sir; that jackanapes of yourself, and tie your hair up like
merely depends upon the spirits of the company a monkey?
and the nature of the entertainment; for my own   Davy. And therefore I did it-no pleasing the
part, I generally make it myself till four or five in ladies without this-my lord's servants call you
the morning.                                an old out-of-fashioned codger, and have taught
Sir J. Why, what the devil! do you make one me what's what.
at these masqueradings?                       Sir J. Here's an imp of the devil! he is unJes. I seldom miss, Sir; I may venture to say done. and will poison the whole country-sirrah,
that nobody knows the trim and small talk of the get every thing ready, I'll be going directly.




CENmE II.]                         BON  TON.                                      421
Davy. To bed, Sir? — want to go to bed my- sight of the precipice turns my head; I have been
self, Sir.                                   giddy with it too long, and must turn from it
Sir J. Why, how now —you are drunk too, while I can-pray, be quiet, my lord, I will meet
sirrah.                                      you to-morrow.
Davy. I am a little, your honour, because I   Lord M. To-morrow!'tis an age in my situhave been drinking.                          ation-let the weak, bashful, coyish whiner be
Sir J. That is not all-but you have been in intimidated with these faint alarms, but let the
bad company, sirrah?                        bold experienced lover kindle at the danger, and
Davy. Indeed your honour's mistaken, I never like the eagle in the midst of storms thus pounce
kept such good company in all my life.      upon his prey.            [ Takes hold of her.
Sir J. The fellow does not understand me-   Miss T. Dear Mr. Eagle, be merciful; pray'where have you been, you drunkard?        let the poor pigeon fly for this once.
Davy. Drinking, to be sure, if I am a drunk-   Lord Al. If I do, my dove, may I be cursed to
ard; and if you had been drinking too, as I have have my wife as fond of me, as I am now of thee.
been, you would not be in such a passion with a                        [Offers to kiss her.
body-it makes one so good natured.             Jes. r Without, knocking at the door.] My lord,
Sir J: There is another addition to my misfor- my lord!tunes! I shall have this fellow carry into the   iMiss T. EIa!                 [Screams.
country as many vices as will corrupt the whole   Lord M. Who's there?
parish.                                        Jes. [Peeping.]'Tis I, my lord; may I comet
Davy. I'll take what I can, to be sure, your in?
worship.                                       Lord M. Damn the fellow! What's the
Sir J. Get away, you beast you, and sleep off matter?
the debauchery you have contracted this fortnight,  Jes. Nay, not much, my lord-only my lady's
or I shall leave you behind, as a proper person to come home.
make one of his lordship's family.             M1iss T. Then I'm undone-what shall I do'?
Davy. So much the better-give me more I'll run into my own room.
wages, less work, and the key of the ale-cellar, and   Lord,. Then she may meet youI am your servant; if not, provide yourself with   Jes. There's a dark deep closet, my lord —Miss
another.                            [Struts. may hide herself there.
Sir J. Here's a reprobate!-this is the com-   Mliss T. For Heaven's sake, put me into it,
pletion of my misery! but harkye, villain,-go to and when her ladyship's safe, let me know, my
bed-and sleep off your iniquity, and then pack lord.-What an escape have I had!
u p the things, or I'll pack you off to Newgate, and   Lord M. The moment her evil spirit is laid,
transport you for life, you rascal you.    [Exit. I'll let my angel out-[Puts her intoothe closet.1
Davy. That for you, old codger. [Snaps his -lock the door on the inside-come softly to my
fingers.] I know the law better than to be fright- room, Jessamy.
ened with moonshine; I wish that I was to live   Jes. If a board creaks, your lordship shall nehere all my days,-this is the life indeed! a ser- ver give me a laced waistcoat again.
vant lives up to his eyes in clover; they have                         [Exeunt on tiptoes.
wages, and board wages, and nothing to do, but
to grow fat and saucy-they are as happy as their Enter GYMP, lighting in L ADY MINIKIN and
master, the.y play for ever at cards, swear like    COLONEL TIVY, in Masquerade Dresses.
emperors, drink like fishes, and go a wenching    Gymp. Pray, my lady, go no farther with the
with as much ease and tranquillity, as if they colonel, I know' you mean nothing but innocence,
were going to a sermon. Oh!'tis a fine life!   but I'm sure there will be bloodshed, for my lord:
[Exit, reeling. is certainly in the house-I'll take my affidavy
that I heard —
S'CENVE II.-A  Chamber in LORD MINIKIN'S  h  I hrd
~House~1. monT. It can't be, I tell you; we left him this
moment at the masquerade-I- spoke to him beEnter LORD MINIKRIN and MIss TITTUP in   fore I came out.
Masquerade Dresses, lighted by JESSAMY.    Lady -I. -He's too busy, and too well employed,
Lord AM. Set down the candles, Jessamy; and to think of home-but don't tremble so, Gymp.
should your lady come home, let me know-be  There is no harm, I assure you-  the colonel is'
sure you are not out of the way.             to marry my niece, and it is proper to settle some
Jes. I have lived too long with your lordship to matters relating to it-they are left to us.
need the caution-who the devil have we got   Gymp. Yes, yes, madam, to be sure it is proper
now? but that's my lord's business, ani notmine. that you talk together-I know you mean nothing
[Exit. but innocence-but indeed there will be bloodMiss T. [Pudling off her mask.] Upon my shed.
word, my lord, this coming home so soon from    Col. T. The girl's a fool. I have no sword by
the masquerade is very imprudent, and will cer- my side.
tainly be observed-I am  most inconceivably    Gymp. But my lord has, and you may kill one
frightened, I can assure you-my uncle Trotley another with that-I know you mean nothing
has a light in his room; the accident this morn- but innocence, but.I certainly heard him go up
ing will certainly keep him uponthe watch-pray, the back stairs into his room, talking with Jesmy lord, let us defer our meetings till he goes into samy.
the country-I find that my English heart, though   Lady M.'Tis impossible but the girl must
it has ventured so far, grows fearful, and awkward have fancied this-Can't you ask Whisp, or Mig..
to practise the freedoms of warmer climes-[LoaRD non, if their master is come in?
M. takes her by the hand.]  If you will not'de-   Gyamp. Lord, my lady, they are always drunk
sist, my lord-we are separated for ever-the before this, and asleep in the kitchen.
36




422                                 BO N: T ON.                                [ACT' 1.
Lady M. This'frightened fdol has made me as so little pleasure-I shall retire to my own apartridiculous as herself! hark!-Colonel, I'll swear ment.
there is something upon the- stairs-now I am in   Lord M. Well, if your ladyship will be cruel,
the field I find I am a coward.              I must still, like the miser, starve and sigh, though
Gymp. There will certainly be bloodshed.    possessed of.the greatest treasure-[Bows.] I wish
Col. T. I'll slip down with: Gymp this back your ladyship a good night-[He takes one canway then... [Going. die, and LADY. MINIKIN. the other.] May I pre-Gymp. O dear, my lady,-there is somebody sume-                           [Salutes her.
coming up them too.:  -:: Lady M. Your lordship is too obliging-nasty
Col. T. Zounds! I've got between two fires!  man!                             [Aside.
Lady M. Run into the closet.                 Lord M. Disagreeable woman!        [Aside.
Col. T.. [Runs to the closet.] There's no re-  [Wipe their lips and exeunt diferen.t ways.
treat-the door is locked!                      Miss T. [Peeping out of the closet.] All's siLady M. Behind-the chimney-board, Gymp.  lent now, and quite dark; what has been doing
Col. T. I shall certainly be taken prisoner, here I cannot guess-I long to be relieved; I wish
[Gets behind the board.]:you'll let me know.when my lord was come —but I hear a: noise!
the enemy's decamped..                                 [She shuts the door.
Lady:lM. Leave that to me-do you, Gymp, go   Col. T. [Peeping over the chimney-board.] I
down the back stairs, and leave me to face my wonder my lady does not come-I would not have
lord, I think I can match-him at. hypocrisy.  Miss Tittup know of this-'twould be ten thou[Sits down. sand pounds out of my way, and I cannot afford
- -Enter LORD MINIKIN.             to give so num ch for a little gallantry.
IMiss T. [Comes forward.] What would my
- Lord M.  What, is your ladyship so soon re- Colonel say, to find his bride,'that is to be, in this
turned from Lady Filligree's.           critical situation?
-:Lady Ml. - I am sure, my lord, I ought to be
more surprised at your being here so soon, when Enter LORD MINIIN atone door, in the dark.
I saw you so well- entertained: in a tete-a-tete with   Lord l. Now to release my prisoner.
a lady in crimson-such sights, my lord, will al-                         [Comesforward.
ways drive me from my most favourite amuse-     Enter LADY MINIKIN, at the other door.
ments.
Lord.l. You find at least, that the lady, who-   Lady:M. My poor colonel will be as miserable,
ever she was, could: not engage me to stay, when as if we were besieged in garrison; I must reI found your ladyship had left the ball.    lease him.
Lady AL. Your lordship's sneering upon my   Lord M. Hist! hist!
unhappy temper may bea proof of your:wit, but                 [Going towards the chimney.
it is none of your humanity; and this behaviour   M~iss T. Lord M. and Col. T. Here!here!
is as great an insult upon me, as even your false-   Lord M. This way.
hood itself... [Pretends to weep.   Lady 1V. Softly.
Lord AL. Nay, my dear Lady Minikin, if you     [They all grope, till LORD MINIKIN has got
are resolved to play tragedy, I shall roar away too,  LADY MINIKIN, and the COLONEL Miss
and pull out my cambric handkerchief.               TITTUP.
Lady M.' I think, my lord, we had better retire   Sir J. [Speaks without.] Lights this way, I
to our.apartments; my weakness and your bru- say; I am sure there are thieves; get a blundertality will only expose us to our servants-Where  buss.
is: Tittup, pray?                             Jes. Indeed you dream it, there is nobody but
Lord M.   I left her with the colonel-a mas- thefamily.             [All stand and stare.
querade to young folks, upon the point of matri-  Enter S   OHN in his night-cap, his hanger
mony, is as delightful as it is disgusting to those
who are happily married, and are wise.enough to
love home, and the company of their wives.,   Sir J. Give me the candle, I'll ferret'em out,
- [ Takes hold of her hand. I warrant; bring a blunderbuss, I say: they have
Lady 17.  F.alse, man! I had. as lieve a toad been skipping about that gallery in the dark this
touched me..: [side. half hour; there must be mischief-I have watched
Lord..  She gives me the frisonne-I must them into' this room-ho, ho, are you there?-If
propose to stay, or-I shall never get rid of her. you sti are dead men- They retire. ]-and
[Aside.]-I amaguishto-night,-he-he — do my [Seeing the ladies.] women too!-egad-ha!
dear,,let us maklea-little fire here, and have a fa- what's this? the same party again! and two
nmily tete-a-tete, by way of novelty. [Rings a bell, couple they'are of as choice mortals as ever were
hatched in this righteous town —you'll excuse
Enter JsSSAMY.                me, cousins!        [ They all look confounded.
Let'em take away that chimney-board, and light,   Lord A    In the     name of wonder, how comes
a;fire. here immediately;                    al this about.
Lady iM.e   Wh at shall I do?-:-[Aside, and    Sir J. Well, but harkye, my dear cousins, have',eatly alarmed.]  HereJessamy, there isnooc-  you not got wrong partners?-here has been
some mistake in the dark: I am mighty glad that
lord wont astay here by himself. [Exit JESSAMY. T have brought' you a candle to set all to rights
lord wont stay here by himself. [Exit JESAMY.:Lord AL Honwo'cruel it is, Lady Minikin, to again —you'll excuse me, gentlemen and ladies.
deprive me of the pleasure' of a domestic duetto-     Enter GyMp, with a candle.
A good escape, faith!                [Aside.    Gymp. What in the name of mercy is the
Lady A.i. I have too much regard for Lord Mi- matter?
nikin to agree to any thing that would afford him    Sir J. Why the old matter,. and the old game,




SCENE II.]                         BON  TO N.                                     423
Mrs. Gymp; and I'll match my cousins here at minds will bring you to your senses, and make
it against all the world, and I say done first.  you renounce foreign vices and follies, and return
Lord M. What is the meaning, Sir John, of with joy to your country and property againall this tumult and consternation'? may not Lady read that, my lord, and know your fate.
Minikin and I, and the colonel and your niece,                            [Gives a paper.
be seen in my house together without your raising   Lord M/I. What an abomination is this! that
the family, and making this uproar anda confu-. Ia man:of fashion,: and a nobleman, shall be obsion?                                       liged to submit to the laws of his country.
Sir J. Come, come, good folks, I see you are   Sir J. Thank Heaven, my lord, we are in that
all confounded, I'll settle this matter in a mo- country!-You are silent, ladies-if repentance
ment-as for you, colonel-though you have not' has subdued your tongues, I shall have hopes of
deserved plain dealing from me, I will now be you-a little country air might perhaps do wellserious-you imagine this young lady has an in- as you are distressed, I am at your service-what
dependent fortune, besides expectations from me say you, my lady?
- tis a mistake, she has no expectations from me,   Lady M. However appearances have conif she marry you; and if I don't consent to her demned me, give me leave to disavow the submarriage, she will have no fortune at all.   stance of those appearances. My mind has been
Col. T. Plain dealing is a jewel; and to show  tainted, but not profligate-your kindness and
you, Sir John, that I can pay you in kind, I am  example may restore me to my former natural
most sincerely obliged to you for your intelli- English constitution.
gence; and I am,. ladies your most obedient, hum-,.S..Sir J. Will you resign your lady to me, my
ble servant-I shall see you, my lord, at the club- lord, for a time?
to-morrow?                            [Exit.   Lord M. For ever, dear Sir John, without a
Lord M. Sans doute, mon cher colonel-I'll murmur.
meet you there, without fail.                  Sir J. IV Well, Miss, and what say you?
Sir J. My lord, you'll have something else   Miss T. Guilty, uncle.      [Courtesying.
to do.                                         Sir J. Guilty! the devil you are? of what?
Lord M. Indeed! what is that, good Sir John?   Miss T. Of consenting to marry one whom
Sir J. You must meet your lawyers and cre- my heart does not approve; and coquetting with
ditors to-morrow, and be told what you have al- another, which friendship, duty, honour, morals,
ways turned a deaf ear to-that the dissipation and every thing but fashion, ought to have forbidof your fortune and morals must be followed by den..
years of parsimony and repentance-as you are   Sir. J.: Thus. then, with the wife of one.under
fond of going -abroad, you may indulge that in- this arm,- and the mistress of another. under this,
clination without having it. in your power to in- I sally. forth a knight-errant, to, rescue distressed
dulge any other.                             damsels from those monsters, foreign vices, and
Lord M. The bumpkin is no fool, and: is damned  Bn Ton, as they call it; and -I trust that. every
satirical.. -[Aside. English hand and heart here will assist me in so
Sir J. This kind of quarantine for pestilential desperate an undertaking- You'll excuse me, Si? s I




THE ORPHAN:
OR,
THE UNHAPPY MARRIAGE.
A TRAGE DY,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY THOMAS OTWAY.
REMARKS.
To the great merit of Miss O'Neil, in Monimia, we are indebted for the revival of,his tragedy, which was
originally played at the Duke's Theatre, in 1680; and long kept possession of the stage. The language of this
play is poetical and tender, and the incidents affecting; but, amidst many beauties, there is great inconsistency.*
Dr. Johnson observes,-" This is one of the few pieces that has pleased for almost a century, through all the
vicissitudes of dramatic fashion. Of this play, nothing new can easily be said. It is a domestic tragedy, drawn
from middle life;-its whole power is upon the affections; for it is not written with much comprehension of
thought, or elegance of expression. But, if the heart is interested, many other beauties mav be wanting, yet
not be missed."
DRAMATIS PERSON/E.
DRURY LANE, 1780.                  COVENT GARDEN, 1815.
CASTALIO...........................Mr. Reddish...................... Mr. C. Kemble.
ACASTO,......                       Mr. Packer..........M.........        r. Egerton.
POLYDORE,.Mr. Brereton.                                                 Mr. Conway.
CHAPLAIN,......                    Mr. Usher.Mr. Chapman.
ERNESTO.......Mr. Wrighten..........                                  Mr. Jejferies.
PAGE......             aster Pulley...... Miss Prescott.
CHAMONT,......                     Mr. Smith.                           Mr. Young.
SERINA,.......Miss Platt..........                                     Miss Boyce.
FLORELLA,.......Mrs. Johnston.....Mrs.............. Seymour.
MONIMIA,........................Miss Younge.                            Miss O'Neil.
SCENE-Bohemia.
ACT I.                        And in his side thought to have lodg'd my spear,
The desperate savage rush'd within my force,
And bore me headlong with him down the rock.
Enter CASTALIO, POLYDORE, and PAGE.             Pol. But then
Cas. Polydore, our sport                         Cas. Ay, then, my brother, my friend, PolyHas been to-day much better for the danger:               dore,
When on the brink the foaming boar I met,         Like Perseus mounted on his winged steed,
* Many readers will, probably, exclaim with the critic, when he first saw it,-" Oh I what an infinite deal of
mischief would a farthing rush-light have prevented"                                   4
424




SCENE I.]                       THE    RPIHAN.                                     425
Came on, and down the dangerous precipice    Cas. Yes.
leap'd                                 Pot. And you would kill me,
To save Castalio.-'Twas a godlike act!       If I'm your rival'
Pot. But when I came, I found you conqueror.   Cas. No,;-sure we're such friends,
Oh! my heart danc'd, to see your danger past!   So much one man, that our affections too
The heat and fury of the chase was cold,     Must be united, and the same as we are.
And I had nothing in my mind but joy.          Pot. I dote upon Monimia.
Cas. So, Polydore, methinks, we might in    Cas. Love her still;
war                                  Win, and enjoy her.
Rush on together; thou shouldst be my guard,   Pot. Both of us cannot.
And I be thine. What is't could hurt us then'  Cas. No matter
Now half the youth of Europe are in arms,    Whose chance it prove; but let's not quarrel for't.
How fulsome must it be to stay behind,         Pot. You would not wed Monimia, would you?
And die of rank diseases here at home!         Cas. Wed her!
Pol. No, let me purchase in my youth renown, No-were she all desire could wish, as fair
To make me loved and valued when I'm old;    As would the vainest of her sex be thought,
I would be busy in the world, and learn,     With wealth beyond what woman's pride could
Not like a coarse and useless dunghill weed,         waste,
Fix'd to one spot, and rot just as I grow.   She should not cheat me of my freedom.-Marrv!
Cas. Our father                            When I am old and weary of the world,
Has ta'en himself a surfeit of the world,    I may grow desperate,
And cries, it is not safe that we should taste it.   And take a wife to mortify withal.
I own, I have duty very powerful in me:        Pot. It is an elder brother's duty, so
And though I'd hazard all to raise my name,  To propagate his family and name.
Yet he's so tender, and so good a father,   You would not have yours die, and buried with
I could not do a thing to cross his will.            you'
Pot. Castalio, I have doubts within my heart,    Cas. Mere vanity, and silly dotage, all:Which you, and only you, can satisfy.        No, let me live at large, and when I dieWill you be free and candid to your friend'   Pot. Who shall possess th' estate you leave'
Cas. Have I a thought my Polydore should not   Cas. My friend,
know.               If he survive me; if not, my king,
What can this mean'                         Who may bestow't again on some brave man,
Pol. Nay, I'll conjure you too,            Whose honesty and services deserve one.
By all the strictest bonds of'faithful friendship,  Pol.'Tis kindly offer'd.
To show your heart as naked in this point,     Cas. By yon heaven, I love
As you would purge you of your sins to Heaven. My Polydore beyond all worldly joys;
And should I chance to touch it near, bear it  And would not shock his quiet, to be bless'd
With all the sufferance of a tender friend.  With greater happiness than man e'er tasted.
Cas. As calmly as the wounded patient bears    Pol. And, by that heaven, eternally I swear
The artist's hand, that ministers his cure.  To keep the kind Castalio in my heart.
Pot. That's kindly said.-You know our fa- Whose shall Monimia be?
ther's ward,                           Cas. No matter whose.
The fair Monimia:-is your heart at peace?     Pol. Were you not with her privately last
Is it so guarded, that you could not love her' -     night'
Cas. Suppose I should!                      Cas. I was; and should have met her here
Pol. Suppose you should not, brother'     The opportunity shall now be thine'    [again.
Cas. You'd say, I must not.                But have a care, by friendship I conjure thee,
Pol. That would sound too roughly          That no false play be offer'd to thy brother.
1Twixt friends and brothers, as we two are.  Urge all thy powers to make thy passion prosper?
Cas. Is love a fault'l                     But wrong not mine.
Pol. In one of us it may be-                 Pot. By Heaven, I will not.
What, if I love her?                          Cas. If't prove thy fortune, Polydore, to conCas. Then I must inform you                        quer
I lov'd her first, and cannot quit the claim;  (For thou hast all the arts of soft persuasion;)
But will preserve the birthright of my passion.   Trust me, and let me know thy love's success,
Pot. You will'                            That I may ever after stifle mine.
Cas. I will.                                 Pot. Though she be dearer to my soul than
Pot. No more; I've done.                   To weary pilgrims, or to miser's gold,  [rest
Cas. Why not!                             To great men power, or wealthy cities' pride;
Pot. I told you, I had done.               Rather than wrong Castalio, I'd forget her.
But you, Castalio, would dispute it.                    [Exeunt CAST ALIO and PoLYDORa
Cas. No;
CG~~~~~~as. No;   ~Enter MoNIMIA.
Not with my Polydore:-though I must own
My nature obstinate, and void of sufferance;   Mon. Pass'd not Castalio and Polydore tnis
I could not bear a rival in my friendship,           way'
I am so much in love, and fond of thee.        Page. Madam, just now.
Pol. Yet you will break this friendship!    AlIon. Sure, some ill fate's upon me
Cas. Not for crowns.                       Distrust and heaviness sit round my heart,
Pol. But for a toy you would, a woman's toy,  And apprehension shocks my tim'rous soul,
Unjiust Castalio!                           Why was I not laid in my peaceful grave
Cas. Pry'thee, where's my.fault?         With my poor parents, and at rest as they are.
Pot. You love Monimia.                     Instead of that, I'm wandering into cares.VOL. I.... 3 H      36*




'426 ~6THE O RP HAN.                                                            I.ACr 
Castalio! 0 Castalio! hast thou caught      Be a true woman, rail, protest my wrolgs,
My foolish heart; and, like a tender child,  Resolve to hate him, and yet love him still.
That trusts his plaything to another hand,
I fear its harm, and fain would have it back.
Come near, Cordelio;:I must chide you, Sir.  He comes.
Page. Why, Madam, have I done you any    Cas. Madam, my brother begs he may have
wrong 2                                      leave
Mlon. I never see you now; you have been  To tell you something that concerns you nearly.
kinder;                              I leave you, as becomes me, and withdraw.
Perhaps I've been ungrateful. Here's money for   Mon. My lord Castalio!
you.                                   Cas. Madam!
Page. Madam, I'd serve you with all my soul.  lIIon. Have you purpos'd
-Mon. Tell me, Cordelio (for thou oft hast To abuse me palpably. What means this usage.
heard                                Why am I left with Polydore alone?
Their friendly converse, and their bosom secrets,)    Cas. He best can tell you. Business of imSometimes, at least, have they not talk'd of me?    portance
Page. 0 Madam! very wickedly they have Calls me away: I must attend my father.
talk'd:                                Mon. Will you then leave me thus?
But I am afraid to name it: for, they say,     Cas. But for a moment.
Boys must be whipp'd, that tell their masters' se-   Mon. It has been otherwise: the time has been,
crets.                               When business might have stay'd, and I been'IIon. Fear not, Cordelio; it shall ne'er be.      heard.
known;                                 Cas. I could for ever hear thee; but this time
For I'll preserve the secret as'twere mine.  Matters of such odd circumstances press me,
Polydore cannot be so kind as I.             That I must go.                       [Exit.
I'll furnish thee with all thy harmless sports,  AIon. Then go, and if t be possible, for ever.
With pretty toys, and thou shalt be my page.    Well, my lord Polydore, I guess your business,
Page. And truly, Madam, I had rather be so. And read th' ill-natur'd purpose in your eyes.
Methinks you love me better than my lord;      Pol. If to desire you, more than misers wealth,
For he was never half so kind as you are.    Or dying. men an hour of added life;
What must I do?                             If softest wishes, and a heart more true
Mon Inform me how thou'st heard            Than ever suffer'd yet for love disdain'd,
Castalio and his brother use my name.        Speak an ill-nature; you accuse me justly.Page. With all the tenderness of love,       IIon. Talk not of love, my lord, I must not
You were the subject of their last discourse.       hear it.
At first I thought it would have fatal prov'd;  Pol. Who can behold such beauty and be siBut, as the one grew hot, the other cool'd,          lent?                         [ated,
And yielded to the frailty of his friend;    Desire first taught us words. Man, when creaAt last, after much struggling,'twas resolv'd-  At first alone long wander'd up and down
Mon. What, good Cordelio 2                 Forlorn, and silent as his vassal beasts:
Page. Not to quarrel for you.              But when a heaven-born maid, like you, appear'd.
Mon. I would not have'em, by my dearest Strange pleasures fill'd his eyes and fir'd his
hopes;                                       heart,
I would not be the argument of strife.       Unloos'd his tongue, and his first talk was love.
But surely my Castalio wont forsake me,        AIon. The first created pair indeed were bless'd;
And make a mockery of my easy love!         They were the only objects of each other,
Went they together?                         Therefore he courted her, and her alone;
Page. Yes, to seek you, Madam.             But in this peopled world of beauty, where
Castalio promised Polydore to bring him,     There's roving room, where you may court, and
Where he alone might meet you,                       ruin
And fairly try the fortune of his wishes.    A thousand more, why need you talk to me?
Mon. Am I then grown so cheap, just to be   Pol. Oh! I could talk to thee for ever. Thus
made                                Eternally admiring, fix, and gaze,
A common stake, a prize for love in est?  On those dear eyes; for every glance they send
Was not Castalio very loth to yield it t?    Darts through my soul.
Or was it Polydore's unruly passion,           Mon. How can you labour thus for my uan
That heighten'd the debate 1                         doing?. Page. The fault was Polydore's.          I must confess, indeed, I owe you more
Castalio play'd with love, and smiling show'd  Than ever I can hope, or think, to pay.
The pleasure, not the pangs of his desire.   There always was a friendship'twixt our families
He said, no woman's smiles should buy his free- And therefore when my tender parents died,
dom;                                Whose ruin'd fortunes too expir'd with them,
And marriage is a mortifying thing.  [Exit. Your father's pity and his bounty took me,
M/lon. Then I am ruin'd! if Castalio's false,   A poor and helpless orphan, to his care.
Where is there faith and honour to be found?  Pol.'Twas Heaven ordain'd it so, to make me
Ye gods, that guard the innocent, and guide          happy.
The weak, protect and take me to your care.  Hence with this peevish virtue,'tis a cheat;
0, but I love him! There's the rock will wreck And those who taught it first were hypocrites.
me!                                 Come, these soft tender limbs were made foi
Why was I made with all my sex's fondness,           yielding.
Yet want the cunning to conceal its follies?  Mon. Here, on my knees, by Heaven's bless'd
I'll see Castalio, tax him with his falsehoods,      power I swear,              [Kneels.




~, isvm  I.~]:THE -0ORPH-AN;4X7
If you persist, I ne'er henceforth will see you,  Acas. Blessings on my child!
But rather wander through the world a beggar,  My little cherub, what hast thou to ask me?
And live on sordid scraps at proud men's doors;    Ser. I bring you, Sir, most glad and welcomi,
For, though to fortune lost, I'll still inherit      news;'My mother's virtues, and my father's honour.    The young Chamont, whom  you've so often
Pol. Intolerable vanity! your sex                  wish'd for,
Was never in the right! y'are always false,  Is just arriv'd, and entering.. Or: silly; even your dresses are not more     Acas. By my soul,
Fantastic than your appetites: you think     And all my honours, he's most dearly welcome;
Of nothing twice; -opinion you have none.    Let me receive him like his father's friend.
To-day y'are nice, to-morrow not so free;
Now smile, then frown; now sorrowful, then                Enter CHAMONT.
glad;                        [why! Welcome, thou relic of the best lov'd man!.Now: pleas'd, now not: and all, you know not Welcome, from all the turmoils and the hazards
AIon. Indeed, my lord,                     Of certain danger and uncertain fortune!
I-own my sex's follies; I have'em all;      Welcome, as happy tidings after fears.
And, to avoid its fault, must fly from you.    Cham. Words would but wrong the gratitude
Therefore, believe me, could you raise me high       I owe you!
As most fantastic woman's wish could reach,  Should I begin to speak, my soul's so full,
And lay all nature's riches at my feet;      That I should talk of nothing else all day.
I'd rather run a savage in the woods,
Amongst brute beasts, grow wrinkled. and de-               Enter MONIMIA.
form'd,    -.Mon. My brother!
So I might still enjoy my honour safe,         Cham.    y sister,
Cham. 0 my sister, let me hold thee'From the destroying wiles of faithless men.  Long-in my arms. I've not beheld thy face
[Exit. These many days; by night I've often seen thee
Pol. Who'd be that sordid thing call'd man?   In gentle dreams, and satisfied my soul
I'll yet possess my love; it shall be so. [Exeunt. With fancied joys, till morning cares awak'd me.
ACT II.:          Another sister! sure, it must be-so;
Though I remember well I had but one:
SCENE 1. —A  Sialoon.             But I feel something in my heart that prompts,
-Enter ACAsTo, CASTA-LIO, POLYDORE, and At- And tells me, she has claim and interest there.
tendants.              -     Acas. Young soldier, you've not only studied
Acas. To-day has been a day of glorious sport;     war;
When you,' Castalio, and your brother, left me,  Courtship, I see, has been your practice too,
Forth from the thickets rush'd another'boar;  And may not prove unwelcome to my daughter.
So large, he seem'd the tyrant of the woods,   Cham. Is she your daughter.? then my heart
With all his:dreadful bristles rais'd up high,       told true,
They seem'da: grove of spears upon'his back;   And' I'm at least her brother by adoption;
Foaming he came at me, where I was posted    For you have made yourself to me a father,
Best to observe which way he'd lead the chase,   And by that patent I have leave to love her.'Whetting his huge, large tusks, and gaping wide,   Ser. Monimia, thou hast told me men are
As if he already had me for his prey!                false,'Till, brandishing my well-pois'd javelin high,    Will flatter, feign, and make an art of love:.With this bold executing arm I struck..    Is Chamont so? no, sure, he's more than man;
The ugly brindled monster to the heart.      Something that's near divine, and truth dwells in
C'as. The actions of your life were always         him.
wondrous.                             Acas. Thus happy, who would envy pompous
Acas. No flattery, boy! an honest man can't        power,
- is  live by't;'                          The luxury of courts, or wealth of cities'
It is a little, sneaking art,'which knaves  Let there.be. joy through all the house this day!
Use to cajole and soften fools withal.: In every.room let plenty flow at large!:If thou hast flattery in thy nature, out with't,    It is the birth-day of my royal master!
Or send it to a court, for -there'twill thrive.  You have not'visited the court, Chamont,
C(as. Your lordship's wrongs have been    Since your return?
So-,great, that you with justice may complain;  Cham. I have no business there;
But suffer us, whose younger minds ne'er felt    I have.not slavish temperance enough
Fortune's deceits, to court her, as she's fair:  T' attend a favourite's heels, and watch his
Were she a common mistress, kind to all,.  Bear an ill office. done me to my face,;  [smiles,
Her worth would:cease, and half the world grow  And thank the lord that wrong'd me, for his faidle.    your.
Methinks, I would be busy.:    Acas. This you could do.     [To his Sons.
Pol. So would I,                             Cas. I'd serve my prince.
Not loiter- out my life at home, and, know    ~ Acas.. Who'd serve him'
No further than one prospect gives me leave.   Cas. I would, my lord.
Acas. Busy your minds then, study arts and    Pol. And I; both would.
men;....                  Acas. Away!
Learn how tolvalue merit, though in rags,    He needs not any servants such as you..And scorn a proud, ill-manner'dl knave in office.  Serve him! he merits more than man can do I
I.  He is so good, praise cannot speak his worth 
Enter SERINA..              So merciful, sure he ne'er slept in wrath!.Ser. My lord, my father!                  So just, that, were he but a private man,




428                             THE ORPHAN.                                    [AcTr 1.
He could not do a wrong! How would you serve   Acas. I cannot guess your drift;
him 1                                Distrust you me l
Cas. I'd serve him with my fortune here at   Cham. No, but I fear her weakness
home,                                May make her pay her debt at any rate:
And serve him with my person in his wars:    And, to deal freely with your lordship's goodWatch for him, fight for him, bleed for him.          ness,
Pol. Die for him,                          I've heard a story lately much disturbs me.
As every true-born, loyal subject ought.       Acas. Then first charge her; and if th' offence
Acas. Let me embrace ye both! now, by the          be found
souls                                Within my reach, though it should touch my
Of my brave ancestors, I'm truly happy!              nature.
For this, be ever bless'd my marriage day!   In my own offspring, by the dear remembrance
Bless'd be your mother's memory, that bore you; Of thy brave father, whom my heart rejoic'd in,
And doubly bless'd be that auspicious hour   I'd prosecute it with severest vengeance.  [Exit.
That gave ye birth?                           Cham. I thank you, from my soul.
Enter a SERVANT.                 IMon. Alas, my brother! what have I done?
My heart quakes in me; in your settled face,
Serv. My lord, th' expected guests are just ar- And clouded brow, methinks I see my fate.
riv'd.                               You will not kill mre'?
Acas. Go you and give'em welcome and re-   Cham. Pr'ythee, why dost thou talk so?
ception.                               Mon. Look kindly on me then; I canot bear
[Exuent CASTALIO and POLYDORE. Severity; it daunts, and does amaze me;
Cham. MVIy lord, I stand in need of your, as- My heart's so tender, should you charge me rough,
sistance,                            I should but weep, and answer you with sobbing;
in something that concerns my peace and honour. But use me gently, like a loving brother,
Acas. Spoke like the son of that brave man I And search through all the secrets of my soul.
lov'd!                                 Cham. Fear nothing, I will show myself a
So freely, friendly, we convers'd together.          brother.
Whate'er it be, with confidence impart it;   A tender, honest, and a loving brother.
Thou shalt command my fortune, and my sword. You've not forgot our father?
Cham. I dare not doubt your friendship, nor   Mon. I never shall.                 [man
your justice,                          Chaam. Then you'll remember too he was a
Your bounty shown to what I hold most dear,    That liv'd up to the standard of his honour,
My orphan sister, must not be forgotten!     And priz'd that jewel more than mines of wealth:
Acas. Pr'ythee no more of that, it grates my He'd not have done a shameful thing but once:
nature.                              Though kept in darkness from the world, and
Cham. When our dear parents died, they died        hidden,
together;                           He could not have forgiven it to himself.
One fate surpris'd'em, and one grave receiv'd This was the only portion that he left us;
em;                                 And I more glory in't than if possess'd
My fatner, with his dying breath, bequeath'd  Of all that ever fortune threw on fools.
Her to my love; my mother, as she lay'Twas a large trust, and must be manag'd nicely;
Languishing  by him, call'd me to her side,  Now, if by any chance, Monimia,
Took me in her fainting arms, wept, and em- You have soil'd this gem, and taken from its
brac'd me;                           How will you account with me?        [value,
Then press'd me close, and, as she observ'd my MIon. I challenge envy,
tears,                               Malice, and all the practices of hell,
Kiss'd them away: said she, " Chamont, my son, To censure all the actions of my past
By this, and all the love I ever show'd thee,  Unhappy life, and taint me if they can!
Be careful of Monimia: watch her youth;        Cham. I'll tell thee, then; three nights ago, assl
Let not her wants betray her to dishonour;   Lay musing on my bed, all darkness round me,
Perhaps, kind Heaven may raise some friend." A sudden damp struck to my heart, cold sweat
Then sigh'd,                         Dew'd all my face, and trembling seiz'd rmy limbs:
Kiss'd me again; so bless'd us, and expir'd.  My bed shook under me, the curtains started,
Pardon my grief.                             And to my tortur'd fancy there appear'd
Acas. It speaks an honest nature.          The form of thee, thus beauteous as thou art;
Chaim. The friend Heaven rais'd was you; you Thy garments flowihg loose, and in each hand
took her up,                        A wanton lover, who by turns caress'd thee
An infant, to the desert world expos'd,      With all the freedom of unbounded pleasure.
And prov'd another parent.                   T snatch'd my sword, and in the very moment
Acas. I've not wrong'd her.                Darted it at the phantom; straight it left me;
Cham. Far be it from my fears.             Then rose, and call'd for lights, when, 0 dire
Acas. Then why this argument?                     omen!
Cham. My lord, my nature'sjealous, and you'll I found my weapon had the arras pierc'd,
bear it.                            Just where that famous tale was interwoven,
Acas. Go on.                               How the unhappy Theban slew his father.
C/ham. Great spirits bear misfortunes hardly;   Mon. And for this cause my virtue is suspected!
Good offices claim gratitude; and pride,     Because in dreams your fancy has'been ridden,
Where power is wanting, will usurp a little,  I must be tortur'd waking!
And make us (rather than be thought behind    Cham. Have a care;
hand)                                Labour not to be justified too fast:
Pat over price.                              Hear all, and then let justice hold the scale.




rEND I.           ]             THE ORPHAN.                                       429
What follow'd was the riddle that confounds me. For, O, Castalio, thou too much hast wrong'd
Through a -lose lane, as I pursu'd my journey,       me,
And meditating on the last night's vision,   In leaving me to Polydore's ill usage.
I spy'd a wrinkled hag, with age grown double,  He comes; and now, for once, O Love, stand
Picking dry sticks, and mumbling to herself;         neuter,
Her eyes with scalding rheum were gall'd and Whilst a hard part's performed; for I must tempt,
red:                      [wither'd, Wound his soft nature, though my heart aches
Cold palsy shook her head, her hand seem'd           for't.
And on her crooked shoulders had she wrapp'd             Re-enter CASTALIO.
The tatter'd remnant of an old striped hangimia, my angel!'twas not kind
Cas. Monimia, my angel!'twas not kind
Which serv'd to keep her carcass from the cold:  To leave me here alone.
So there was nothing of a piece about her.
Her lower weeds were all o'er coarsely patch'd   Re-enter POLYDORE, with PAGE, at the door.
With different colour'd rags, black, red, white,   Pol. Here place yourself, and watch my broyellow,                                      ther thoroughly;
And seem'd to speak variety of wretchedness.    Pass not one circumstance without remark.
I ask'd her of my way, which she inform'd me;                    [Apart to PAGE, and exit.
Then crav'd my charity, and bade me hasten     Cas. When thou art from me, every place is
To save a sister! at that word, I started!           desert,
Mon. The common cheat of beggars; every And I, methinks, am savage and forlorn:
day                                 Thy presence only'tis can make me bless'd,
They flock about our doors, pretend to gifts  Heal my unquiet mind, and tune my soul.
Of rophecy, and telling fools their fortunes.  Mon. 0 the bewitching tongues of faithless
am. i~h! but she told me such a tale, Mo-       men!
nimia,'Tis thus the false hyena makes her moan,
As in it bore great circumstance of truth:   To draw the pitying traveller to her den:
Castalio and Polydore, my sister.           Your sex are so, such false dissemblers all;
Mon. Ha!                                   With sighs and plaints y' entice poor women's
Cham. What, alter'd? does your courage fail       hearts,
you?                               And all that pity you are made your prey.
Now, by my father's soul, the witch was honest.    Cas. What means my love? Oh, how have I
Answer me, if thou hast not lost them                deserv'd
Thy honour at a sordid game?               This language from the sovereign of my joys!
"ion. I will,                             Stop, stop these tears, Monimia, for they fall
I must, so hardly my misfortune loads me:-  Like baneful dew from a distemper'd sky:
That both have offer'd me their love's most true. I feel'em chill me to my very heart.
Cham. And'tis as true too they have both un-..Ion. Oh, you are false, Castalio, most fordone thee.                                   sworn!
I/lon. Though they both with earnest vows    Attempt no further to delude my faith
Have press'd my heart, if e'er in thought I yielded My heart is fix'd, and you shall shake't no more.
To any but Castalio-                          Cas. Who told you so; what hell-bred villain
Cham. But Castalio!                               durst
Mon. Still will you cross the line of my discourse. Profane the sacred business of my love' 
Yes, I confess that he hath won my soul       Mon. Your brother, knowing on what terms
By generous love and honourable vows,               I'm here,
Which he this day appointed to complete,    Th' unhappy object of your father's charity,
And make himself by holy marriage mine.     Licentiously discours'd to me of love,
Cham. Art thou then spotless 1 hast thou still And durst affront me with his brutal passion.
preserv'd                              Cas.'Tis I have been to blame, and only I;
Thy virtue white, without a blot, untainted'  False to my brother, and unjust to thee.
Mon. When I'm unchaste, may Heaven reject For, oh! he loves thee too, and this day own'd it,
my prayers;                         Tax'd me with mine, and claim'd a right above
O more, to make me wretched, may you know it!      me.
Chain. Oh, then, Monimia, art thou dearer to   Mon. And was your love so very tame, to
me                                          shrink?
Than all the comforts ever yet bless'd man.  Or, rather than lose him, abandon me 2
But let not marriage bait thee to thy ruin.    Cas. I, knowing him precipitate and rash,
Trust not a man; we are by nature false,    Seem'd to comply with his unruly will;
Dissembling, subtle, cruel, and inconstant:  Lest he in rage might have our loves betray'd,
When a man talks of love, with caution trust And I for ever had Monimia lost.
him;                                  Mon. Could you then, did you, can you own It
But if he swears, he'll certainly deceive thee.     too'
I charge thee, let no more Castalio soothe thee;'Twas poorly done, unworthy of yourself'!
Avoid it, as thou wouldst preserve the peace  And I can never think you meant me fair.
Of a poor brother, to whose soul'thou'rt precious.   Cas. Is this Monimia' Surely, no! till now
Mon. I will.                               I ever thought her dove-like, soft, and kind.
Chiam. Appear as cold, when next you meet, Who trusts his heart with woman's surely lost.
as great ones,                      You were made fair on purpose to undo us,
When merit begs; then shalt thou see how soon  While greedily we snatch th' alluring bait,
His heart will cool, and all his pains grow easy.  And ne er distrust the poison that it hides.
[Exit.   MIon. When love, ill-plac'd, would find a mena
Mon. Yes, I will try him, torture him severely;    to break —




430                             THE  ORPHAN.                                  [ACT IL
Cas It never wants pretences or excuse.                 Enter a SERVANT.
Mo&t. Man therefore was a lord-like creature   Serv. Oh, the unhappiest tidings tongue. e'er
made,                                        told!
Rough as the winds, and as inconstant too:     Pol. The matter?
A lofty aspect given him for command;          Serv. Oh! your father, my good master,
Easily soften'd when he would' betray.       As with his guests he sat in mirth rais'd high,
Like conquering tyrants, you our breasts invade; And chas'd the goblet round the joyful board,
But soon you find new conquests out, and leave   A sudden trembling seiz'd on all his limbs;
The ravag'd province ruinate and waste.      His eyes distorted grew,.his visage pale,
If so.: Castalio, you have serv'd my heart,  His speech forsook him, life itself seem'd fled,
I find that desolation's settled there,     And all his friends are waiting now about him.
And 1 shall ne'er recover peace again.
Cas. Who can hear this and bear an equal          Enter ACASTo and Attendants.
mind.                 Acas. Support me, give me air, I'll yet recover.
Since you will drive me from you, I must go:'Twas but a slip decaying nature made;
But, O'Monimia! when thou hast banish'd me,  For she grows weary near her journey's end.
No creeping slave, though tractable and dull,  Where are my sons'? come near, my Polydore!
As artful woman for her ends would choose,   Your brother-where's Castalio'.
Shall ever, dote as I have done.               Serv. My lord,
MAon.'C'astalio, stay! we must not part. I find I've search'd, as you commanded, all the house!
My rage ebbs out, and love flows in apace.   He and Monimia are not to be found.
These little quarrels love must needs forgive.  Acas. Not to be found? then where are all my
Oh! charm me with the music of thy tongue,           friends?.
I'm ne'er so bless'd as when I hear thy vows,'Tis well —
And listen to the language of thy heart.    I hope they'll pardon an unhappy fault
Cas. Where am I? Surely, Paradise is round My unmannerly infirmity has made!
me!                                 Death could not come in a more welcome hour;
Sweets planted by the hand of Heaven grow  For I'm prepar'd to meet him; and, methinks,
here,                               Would live and die with all my friends about me.
And every sense is full ofthy -perfection.
Sure, framing thee, Heaven took-unusual care;
As  its own beauty it design'd thee fair,      Cas. Angels preserve my dearest father's life!
And form'd thee by the best lov'd angel there.    Oh  may e live till time itself decay,
- [Exeunt. Till good men wish him dead, or I offend him!
Acas. Thank you, Castalio: give me both your
ACT III.                            hands.
So now, methinks,
SCEE.-A Garden.  appear as great as Hercules himself,
Enter POLYDORE and PAGE..           Supported by the pillars he has- rais'd.
Pol. Were they so kind? Express it to me all
In words;'twill make me think I saw it too.           father 
Page. At first I thought they had been mortal   Acas. My heart's darling.
foes:                                 Ser. Let my knees
Monimia rag'd, Castalio grew disturb'd:  Fix to the earth. Ne'er let my eyes have rest,
Each thought the other wrong'd; yet both so But wake and weep, till Heaven restore my father
haughty,                              Acas. Rise to my arms, and thy kind pray'rs
are answer'd.
They scorn'd submission, though love all the
while
while                       -       For thou'rt a wondrous extract of all goodness;
The rebel play'd, and scarce could be contain'd.Born for my joy, and no pain s felt when near
Chamont!                             [thee.
Pol. But what succeeded                    Chamont!                              [thee.
Page. Oh.'twas wondrous pretty!                        Enter CHAMONT.
For of a sudden all the storm was past:        Cham. My lord, mnay't prove, not an unlucky
A gentle calm of love succeeded it:                  omen!
Monimla sigh'd and blush'd; Castalio swore;    Many I see are waiting round about you,
As you, my lord, I well remember, did.      And I am come to ask a blessing too.
To my young sister, in the orange grove,      Acas. May'st thou be happy!'When I was first preferr'd to be your page.   Cham. Where?
Pol. Boy, go to your chamber, and prepare   Acas. In all thy wishes.
your lute.             [Exit PAGE.   Cham. Confirm me so, and make this fail
Happy Castalio! now, by my great soul,              one mine:
My ambitious soul, that languishes to glory,  I am unpractis'd in. the trade of courtship,
I'll have her yet; by my best hopes, I will;:  And know not how to deal love out with art:
She shall be mine, in spite of all her arts.  Onsets in love seem best-like those in war,
But for Castalio, why was I refus'd?        Fierce, resolute, and done with all the force;
Has he supplanted me by some foul play?-.   So I would open my whole heart at once,
Traduc'd my honour? death! he durg not do't.  And pour out the abundance of my soul.
[t must be so: we parted, and he met her,     Acas. What says Serina? canst thou love a
Half to compliance brought by me; surpris'd          soldier 
Hfer sinking virtue, till she yielded quite.  One born to honour, and to honour bred?
So poachers pick up tired game,              One that has learn'd to treat e'en foes with kind
WThile the fair hunter's cheated of his prey.        ness,                         [self?
Boy!                                         To wrong no good man's fame, nor praise him



scEsNs i.]                    T H E  ORPHAN.                                       431
Ser. Oh! name not love, for that's allied to    Cham. How wrong'd her? have a care; for
joy;                                         this may lay
And joy must be a stranger to my heart,      A scene of mischief to undo us all.
When you're in danger. May Chamont's good  But tell me, wrong'd her, saidst thou 
fortune                                Chap. Ay, Sir, wrong'd her.
Render him lovely to some happier maid!       Cham. This is a secret worth-a monarch's forWhilst I, at friendly distance, see him bless'd,    -tune:                          [cian
Praise the kind gods, and wonder at his virtues.  What shall I give thee for't? thou dear physiAcas. Chamont, pursue her, conquer, and pos- Of sickly wounds, unfold this riddle to me,
sess her,                            And comfort mineAnd, as my son, a third of all my fortune      Chap. I would hide nothing from you willingly.
Shall be thy lot.                              Cham. By the reverenc'd soul
Chamont, you told me of some doubts that press'd Of that great honest man that gave me being,
you:.                                Tell me but what thou know'st concerns my
Are you yet. satisfied that I'm your friend?        honour,
Charn. My lord, I would not lose that satisfac- And, if I e'er reveal it to thy wrong,
tion,                               May this good sword ne'er do me right in battle 
For any blessing I could wish for:           May I ne'er know that blessed peace of mind,
As to my fears, already I have lost them:    That dwells in good and pious men like thee!
They ne'er shall vex me more, nor trouble you.  Chap. I see your temper's mov'd and; I will
Acas. I thank you.                                 trust you.
My friends,'tis late:                          Cham. Wilt thou 
Now my disorder seems all past and over,       Chap. I will; but if it ever'scape youAnd I, methinks, begin to feel new health. [quite.   Cham. It never shall.
Cas. Would you but rest, it might restore you    Chap. Then, this good day, when all the house
Acas. Yes, I'll to bed; old men must humour        was busy,
weakness.                            When mirth and kind rejoicing fill'd each room,
Good night, my friends! Heaven guard you all;! As I was walking in the grove I met them.
Good night!                           Cham. What, met them in the grove together.?
To-morrow early we'll salute the day,          Chap. 1, by their own appointment, met them
Find out new pleasures, and renew lost time.         there,                       [hands.
[Exeunt all but CHAMONT and CHAPLAIN. Receiv'd their marriage vows, and join'd their
Cham. If you're at leisure, Sir, we'll waste an    Cham. How! married?
hour:                                  Chap. Yes, Sir.'Tis yet too soon to sleep, and'twill be charity  Cham. Then my soul's at peace:
To lend your conversation to a stranger.     But why would you so long delay to give it?
Chap. Sir, you're a soldier?                 Chap. Not knowing what reception it may find
Cham.. Yes.                                With old Acasto; may be, I was too cautious
Chap. I love a soldier;                    To trust the secret from me.
And had been one myself, but that my parents   Cham. What's the cause
Would make me what you see me.               I cannot guess, though'tis my sister's honour
Cham. Have you had long dependence on this. I do not like this marriage,         [ture;
family.                             Huddled i' the dark, and done at too much-venChap. I have not thought it so, because my  The business looks with an unlucky face.
time's                              Keep still the secret: for it ne'er shall'sca pe me,
Spent pleasantly. My lord's not haughty nor Not e'en to them, the new-match'd pair. Farewell!
imperious,                           Believe the truth, and me for thy friend. [Eveunt.
Nor I gravely whimsical: he has good nature.      Re-enter CASTALIO,  ith MONIMIA.
His sons too are civil to me, becausemont and the chaplain
Cas. Youn  Chamont and the chaplain]! sure
I do not pretend to be wiser than they are;'tisthey
I meddle with. no man's business but my own,
So meet with respect, and am not the jest of the  No matter wht's contriv'd, orho consulted,
Since my Monimia's mine; though this sad look
family.                              Seems no good boding omen to our bliss;
Cham. I'm glad you are so happy.
Chum. I'm glad you are so happy..Else, pr'ythee, tell me why that look cast down,
A pleasant fellow this, and may beuseful.  Why that sad sigh, as if thy heart was breaking?
ld[Aside.   Mon. Castalio, I am thinking what we've
Knew you my father, the old Chamont?.~
Chap. I did: and was most sorry when we             one;                         [day;
l -o s~i~~nurd  was mad song when w The heavenly powers were sure displeas'd to.
For, at the ceremony as we stood,
Chaam. Why, didst thou love him.
Chap. Every body loved him  besides, he was And as your hand was kindly join'd with mine,
Every body loved him; besides, he was As the good priest pronounc'd the sacred words,
my patron's friend..    Passion grew big, and I could not forbear:
Cham. I could embrace thee for that very notion:* Tears drown'd my eyes, and trembling seiz'd my
If thou didst love my father, I could think          soul.
Thou wouldst not be an enemy to me.          What should that mean 
Chap. I can be no man's foe.                 Cas. O thou art tender all!
Chum. Then pr'ythee, tell me;              Gentle and kind as sympathising nature!
Think'st thou the lord Castalio loves my sister?
Chap. Love your sister?                          Re-enter POLYDORE, unobserved.
Cham. Ay, love her.                        But wherefore do I dally with my bliss?
Chap. Either he loves her -or he npuch has The night's far spent, and day draws on apace.
wrong'd her.                         To bed, my love, and wake till I come thither.




432                              THE  ORPHAN.                                 [ACT I'.
Mon.'Twill be impossible:                j Pol. That is, henceforward making league
You know your father's chamber's next to mine,       with you.
And the least noise will certainly alarm him.  Cas. Nay, if ye're angry, Polydore, good
Cas. No more, my blessing.                         night.                       [Exit.
What shall be the sign?                        Pol. Good night, Castalio, if ye're in such
When shall I come? for to my joys I'll steal,       haste.
As if I ne'er had paid my freedom for them.  He little thinks I've overheard th' appointment:
Mon. Just three soft strokes upon the chamber But to his chamber's gone to wait awhile,
door,                               Then come and take possession of my love.
And at that signal you shall gain admittance:    This is the utmost point of all my hopes;
But speak not the least word; for, if you should, Or now she must, or never can be mine.'Tis surely heard, and all will be betray'd.  Oh, for a means now how to counterplot,
Cas. Oh! doubt it not, Monimia; our joys    And disappoint this happy elder brother!
Shall be as silent as the ecstatic bliss    In every thing we do or undertake,
Of souls, that by intelligence converse.     He soars above me, mount what height I can,
Away, my love! first take this kiss.  Now, And keeps the start he got of me in birth.
haste:                              Cordelio!
I long for that to come, yet grudge each minute            Re-enter PAGE.
past.
My brother wand'ring too so late this way!    Page. My lord!
[Exit MONIMIA.   Pol. Come hither, boy!
Pol. Castalio!                            Thou hast a pretty, forward, lying face,
Cas. My Polydore, how durst thou?        And may'st in time expect preferment. Canst
How does our father? is he well recover'd?         thou
Pol. I left him happily repos'd to rest:   Pretend to secrecy, cajole and flatter
He's still as gay as if his life was young.  Thy master's follies, and assist his pleasures?
But how does fair Monimia?                     Page. My lord, I could do any thing for you,
Cas. Doubtless, well:                     And ever be a very faithful boy.
A cruel beauty, with her conquest pleas'd,   Command, whate'er's your pleasure I'll observe;
Is always joyful, and her mind in health.    Be it to run, or watch, or to convey
Pol. Is she the same Monimia still she was?   A letter to a beauteous lady's bosom:
May we not hope she's made of mortal mould?   At least, I am not dull, and soon should learn.
Cas. She's not woman else:                  Pol.'Tis pity then thou shouldst not be emThough I'm grown weary of this tedious hoping;       ploy'd.
We've in a barren desert stray'd too long.  Go to my brother, he's in his chamber now,
Pol. Yet may relief be unexpected found,  Undressing, and preparing for his rest;
And love's sweet manna cover all the field.  Find out some means to keep him up awhile:
Met ye to-day'                              Tell him a pretty story, that may please
Cas. No; she has still avoided me;        His ear; invent a tale, no matter what:
I wish I'd never meddled with the matter     If he should ask of me, tell him I'm gone
And would enjoin thee, Polydore-             To bed, and sent you there to know his pleasure,
Pol. To what  Whether he'll hunt to-morrow.
Cas. To leave this peevish beauty to herself.   But do not leave him till he's in his bed;
Pol. What, quit my love?  as soon I'd quit my Or, if he chance to walk again this way,
post                                Follow, and do not quit him, but seem fond
In fight, and like a coward run away.        To do him little offices of service.
No, by my stars, I'll chase her till she yields  Perhaps at last it may offend him; then
To me, or meets her rescue in another.      Retire, and wait till I come in. Away!
Cas. But I have wondrous reasons on my side, Succeed in this, and be employ'd again.
That would persuade thee, were they known.    Page. Doubt not, my lord: he has been alk
Pol. Then speak'em:                              ways kind
What are they? Came ye to her window here   To me; would often set me on his knee,
To learn'em now?. Castalio, have a care;   Then give me sweetmeats, call me pretty boy,
Use honest dealing with a friend and brother.    And ask me what the maids talk'd of at nights.
Believe me, I'm not with my love so blinded,  Pol. Run quickly then, and prosp'rous be thy
But can discern your purpose to abuse me.            wishes.                 [Exit PAGE.
Quit your pretences to her.                 Here I'm alone, and fit for mischief.
You say you've reasons: why are they conceal'd? I heard the sign she order'd him to give.
Cas. To-morrow I may tell you.            " Just three soft strokes against the chamber door;
Pol. Why not now?                        But speak not the least word, for, if you should,
Cas. It is a matter of such consequence,  It's surely heard, and we are both betray'd."
As I must well consult ere I reveal.         Bless'd Heaven, assist me but in this dear hour,
But pr'ythee cease to think I would abuse thee,  And, my kind stars, be but propitious now,
Till more be known.                         Dispose of me hereafter as you please.
Pol. When you, Castalio, cease             Monimia! Monimia!            [Gives the sign
To meet Monimia unknown to me,                 Flo. [At the window.] Who's there?
And then deny it slavishly, I'll cease         Pol.'Tis I.
To think Castalio faithless to his friend.     Fto. My lord Castalio?
Did I not see you part this very moment?      Pol. The same.
Gas. It seems you've watch'd me, then?    How does my love, my dear Monimi 4?
Pol. I scorn the office.                     Flo. Oh!
Gas. Pr'ythee avoid a thing thou may'st repent. She wonders much at your unkind delay;




-SCENE I.]                       THE  ORPHAN.                                      433
You've staid so long, that at each little noise  That comes thus rudely to disturb our rest?
I'he wind but makes, she asks if you are coming.   Cas.'Tis I.
Pol. Tell her I'm here, and let the door be   Flo. Who are you? what's your name?
open'd.       [FLORELLA withdraws.   Gas. Suppose the Lord Castalio.
Now boast, Castalio, triumph now, and tell     Flo. I know you not.
Thyself strange stories of a promis'd bliss!  The Lord Castalio has no business here.
[Exit.   Cas. Ha! have a care! what can this mean?
Whoe'er thou art, I charge thee, to Monimia fly.
Re-enter CASTALIO and PAGE.          Tell her I'm here, and wait upon my doom.
Page. Indeed, my lord,'twill be a lovely morn-   No. Whoe'er you are, you may repent this
Pray, let us hunt.                    [ing:          outrage:
Cas. Go, you're an idle prattler:         My lady must not be disturb'd. Good night!
I'll stay at home to-morrow; if your lord      Cas. She must! tell her, she shall; go, I'm in
Thinks fit, he may command my hounds. Go,            haste,
leave me;                           And bring her tidings from the state of love.
1 must to bed.                                 F/o. Sure the man's mad
Page. I'll wait upon your lordship,          Cas. Or this will make me so,
If you think fit, and' sing you to repose.   Obey me, or, by all the wrongs I suffer,
Cas. No, my kind boy.                     I'll scale the window and come in by force,
Good night: commend me to my brother.        Let the sad consequence be what it will!
Page. Oh!                                  Th.s creature's trifling folly makes me mad!
You never heard the last new song I learn'd:   F70. My lady's answer is, you may depart.
It is the finest, prettiest, song indeed,    She says she knows you: you are Polydore,
Of my lord and my lady, you know who, that Sent by Castalio, as you were to-day,
were caught                          T' affront and do her violence again.
Together, you know where. My lord, indeed it is.   Cas. I'll not believe't.
Cas. You must be whipp'd, youngster, if you   Flo. You may, Sir.
get such songs as those are.           Cas. Curses blast thee!
What means this boy's impertinence to-night?  Flo. Well, tis a fine cool ev'ning! and I hope
[Aside. May cure the raging fever in your blood!
Page. Why, what must I sing, pray, my dear Good night.
lord?                                Cas. And farewell all that's just in woman!
Cas. Psalms, child, psalms.               This is contriv'd, a study'd trick, to abuse
Page. 0 dear me! boys that go to school learn My easy nature, and torment my mind!
psalms;'Tis impudence to think my soul will bear it!
But pages, that are better bred, sing lampoons.   Let but to-morrow, but to-morrow come
Cas. Well, leave me; I'm weary.           And try if all thy arts appease my wrong;
Page. Indeed, my lord, I can't abide to leave Till when, be this detested place my bed;
you.                                                                 [Lies down.
Cas. Why, wert thou instructed to attend me? Where I will ruminate on woman's ills,
Page. No, no, indeed, my lord, I was not.  Laugh at myself, and curse th' inconstant sex.
But I know, what I know.                    Faithless Monimia! 0 Monirnia!
Cas. What dost thou know?'Sdeath!
what can all this mean      [Aside.Enter ERNESTO.
Page. Oh! I know who loves somebody.        Ern. Either
Cas. What's that to me, boy 1            My sense has been deluded, or this way
Page. Nay, I know who loves you too.      I heard the sound of sorrow;'tis late night, [now.
Cas. That's a wonder! pr'ythee, tell it me.   And none, whose mind's at peace, would wander
Page.'Tis-'tis-I know who-but will          Cas. Who's there?
You give me the horse, then?                 Ern. Castalio!-My lord, why in this posture,
Gas. I will, my child.                    Stretch'd on the ground 1 your honest, true, old serPage. It is my lady Monimia, look you; but Your poor Ernesto, cannot see you thus.  [vant,
don't you tell her I told you: she'll give me no Rise, I beseech you.
more play-things then. I heard her say so, as   Cas. Oh, leave me to my folly.
she lay abed, man.                   [delio.    Ern. I can't leave you,
Cas. Talk'd she of me when in her bed, Cor- And not the reason know of your disorders.
Page. Yes; and I sung her the song you made Remember how, when young, I in my arms
too; and she did so sigh, and look with her eyes! Have often borne you, pleas'd you in your pleaGas. Hark! what's that noise?                   sures,
Take this; be gone, and leave me.           And sought an early share in your affection.
You knave, you little flatterer, get you gone.  Do not discard me now, but let me serve you.
[Exit PAGE.   Cas. Thou canst not serve me.
Surely it was a noise, hist!-only fancy;      Ern. Why?
For all is hush'd, as nature were retir'd.     GCas. Because my thoughts          [them.
ITis now, that, guided by my love, I go      Are full of woman; thou, poor wretch, art past'To take possession of Monimia's arms.         Ern. I hate the sex.
Sure Polydore's by this time gone tobed. [Knocks.   Cas. Then I'm thy friend, Ernesto!   [Rises.
She hears me not? sure, she already sleeps!  I'd leave the world for him that hates a woman!
Efer wishes could not brook so long delay,  Woman, the fountain of all human frailty!
And her poor heart has beat itself to rest.  What mighty ills have not been done by woman?
Once more-                         [Knocks. Who was't betray'd the capitol?-a woman'!
Flo. [At the window.] Who's there,        Who lost Mark Antony the world?-a woman!
VOL. I....3 1      37




434                            THE ORPHAN.                                   [ACT IV.
Who was the cause of a long ten years' war,    Make haste, confusion, then! Sun, lose thy light
And laid at last old Troy in ashes?-Woman!  And, stars, drop dead with sorrow to the earth,
Destructive, damnable, deceitful woman!     For my Castalio's false!
Woman, to man first as a blessing given;    False as the wind, the waters, or the weather!
When innocence and love were in their prime,   Cruel as tigers o'er their trembling prey'
Happy awhile in Paradise they lay;          I feel him in my breast; he tears my -heart,
But quickly woman long'd to go astray:.     And at each sigh he drinks the gushing blood!
Solne foolish new adventure needs must prove,:  Must I be long in pain.
And the first devil she saw, she chanF'd her love;        Enter CHAMONT.
To his temptations lewdly she inclin d
Her soul, and for an apple damn'd mankind.     Cham. In tears, Monimia!
[Exeunt.  lMon. Whoe'er thou art
ACT IV.                    Leave me alone to my belov'd despair!
Cham. Lift up thy eyes, and see who comes to
SCENE I.-A Chamber.                       cheer thee!
Enter CASTALIO.                Tell me the story of thy wrongs, and then
Gas. Wish'd morning's come! And now upon See if my soul has rest,: till thou hast justice.
the plains,                           Mon. My brother!
And distant mountains, where they feed their   Cham. Yes, Monimia, if thou think'st
flocks,                             That I deserve the name, I am thy brother.
The happy shepherds leave their homely huts,   /on. O Castalio 
And with their pipes proclaim the new-born day.   Chai.   Ha!
There's no condition sure so curs'd as mine-    Name me that name again  my soul's on fire
Monimia! 0 Monimia t                        Till I know all!-There's meaning in that name 
I know he is thy husband; therefore, trust me
Enter MONIMIA and FLORELLA.           With the following truth.
Mon. I come!                                Mon. Indeed, Chamont,
[ fly to my ador'd Castalio's arms,         There's nothing in it but the fault of nature:
My wishes' lord.' May every morn begin      I'm often thus seiz'd suddenly with grief,
Like this; and, with our days, our loves renew-!  I know not why.
Cas. Oh-                                    Chamin. You use me ill, Monimia;
Mon. Art thou not well, Castalio. Come, lean And I might think, with justice, most severely
Upon my breast, and tell me where's thy pain.  Of this unfaithful dealing with your brother.
Cas.'Tis here-'tis in my head-'tis in my   Mon. Truly I'm not to blame. Suppose I'm
heart-                                      fond,                        [other.'Tis every where: it rages like a madness   And grieve for what as much may please anAnd I most wonder how my reason holds.      Should I upbraid the dearest friend on earth
No more, Monimia, of your sex's arts-       For the first fault? You would not do so, would
They're useless all-['m not that pliant tool;       you'
I know my charter better-  I am man,          Cham. Not if I'd cause to think:it was a friend.
Obstinate man, and will not be enslav'd!     2Ion. Why do you then call this unfaithful
Mon. You shall not fear't; indeed, my na-         dealing? 
ture's easy:                       I ne'er conceal'd my soul from you before:
I'll ever live your most obedient wife!    Bear with me now, and search my wounds no
Nor ever any privilege pretend                       further;
Beyond your will; for that shall be my law;-   For every probing pains me to the heart.
Indeed, I will not.                           Cham.'Tis sign there's danger in't, and must
Cas. Nay, you shall not, Madam;                   be prob'd.
By yon bright heaven, you shall not: all the day Where's your new husband. Still that thought
I'll play the tyrant, and at night forsake thee;     disturbs youNay, if I've any too, thou shalt be made    What! only answer me with tears?-Castalio!
Subservient to my looser pleasures;         Nay, now they stream:For thou hast wrong'd Castalio.             Cruel, unkind, Castalio!-Is't not so?  [me,
Mon. Oh, kill me here, or tell me my offence!    Mon. I cannot speak;-grief flows so fast upon
I'll never quit you else; but on these knees,  It chokes, and will not let me tell the cause.
Thus follow you all day, till they're worn bare,   Oh!And hang upon you like a drowning creature.   Cham. My Monimia! to my soul thou'rt dear
Castalio!-                                 As honour to my name!
Cas. Away!- Last night! last night!-   Why wilt thou not repose within my breast.Mon. It was our wedding night.           The anguish that torments thee 2.
Gas. No more!-Forget-it!                   M on. Oh! I dare not.             [confide
Mon. Why! do you then repent?                Cham. I have no friend but thee. We must
Gas. I do.                                In one another.-Two unhappy orphans,
Mon. 0 Heaven!                  [Florella! Alas! we are! and when I see thee grieve,
And will you leave me thus — Help! help! Methinks it is a part of me that suffers.
[CASTALrO drags her to the door, breaks from    Mon. Could you be secret?
her, and exit.                        Cham. Secret as the grave.       [your fury
H-elp me to hold this yet lov'd, cruel man!  Mon. But when I've told you, will you keep
C(astalio!-Oh! how often as he sworn,     Within its bounds 1 Will you not do some rash
Nature should change-the sun and stars grow  And horrid mischief? For, indeed, Chamont,
dark,                                You would not think how hardly I've been us'd
Ere he would falsify his vows to-me I: From a dear friend-from one that has my soul




SCENE I.]                     THE  ORP H A N.                                      435
A slave, and therefore treats it like a tyrant..   Cham.:'Twas:the rude o'erflowing;
Chamn. I will be calm.-But has Castalio Of too much passion-Pray, my lord, forgive
wrong'd thee?                                me..                        [Kneels.
Hias he already- wasted all his love?    [bling   Acas. Mock me not, youth!.I can revenge a
What. has he done?-quickly!. for I'm all tren.  wr ong.:.              [mine,
With expectation of a horrid tale!             Cham. I know it well —but for this thought of
Mon. Oh! could you think it 2              Pity a madman's frenzy, and forget it.:....kind.
Cham. What?                                 Acas.  I will; -but henceforth pr'ythee be:more
Mon. I fear, he'll kill me!                Whence came the cause?  [Raises him.
Cham. Ha!                                    Cham. Indeed, I've been to blame;...
Monl. Indeed, I do: he's strangely cruel to me; For you've been my:father.Which, if it last, I'm- sure must break my-heart. You'vebeen her.father too.
Cham  What hahas-he done't.I   [Takes MONIMIA'S hand.
Mon. -Most barbarously us'd me.              Acas. Forbear the prologue,   - -..
Just as we met, and I, with open arms,:And letnie know the. substance of thy tale..' i
Ran to embrace the lord of all my wishes,       Cham. You, took her. up, a little tender flower,
Oh then                                      Just sprouted on a bank' which the next frost
Cham. Go on!. -                           Had nipp'd; and with a careful,. loving. hand,
Aon. He threw me'from his breast,         Transplanted ~her.into your own fair garden, 
Like a detested sin.                         Where' the sun always shines: there long she
Cham. How!                                         flourish'd;
Mon. As I hung too                         Grew sweet to sense, and lovely-to the eye;
Upon his knees, and begg'd to know the cause,   Till at the.last acruel spoiler came.
He dragg'd me, like a slave, upon the earth,  Cropp'd this fair rose, and rifled all its sweetness,
And had no pity on my cries.                 Then cast it like a loathsome weed away..:
Chamin. How! did he                          Acas. You talk to me in parables, Chamont:
Dash thee disdainfully away, with scorn?  You may have:known that: I'm' no wordy man.
Ion;:'He: did.'                          Fine speeches are the instruments of knaves,
Chain. What! throw thee from him. Or fools, that -use them when they want good
Mon. Yes, indeed he did!                   But honesty                           [sense.
Cham. So may this arm                      Needs no disguise or ornament, Be plain.
Throw: him to th' earth, like a dead dog despis'd.    Chain. Your son —
Lameness'and -leprosy, blindness and lunacy,  Acas. I've two; and both, I hope, have honour,
Poverty, shame, pride, and the name of villain,  Cham. I hope so too; butLight on me, if, Castalio, I forgive thee! [he is!   Acas. Speak.
Mon.'Nay, now, Chamont, art thou unkind as   Cham. I. must inform you,
Didst thou not promise me thou wouldst be calm. Once more, Castalio! —
Keep my disgrace conceal'd?                   Acas. Still Castalio!
Alas, I love him still; -and though I ne'er'  Cham. Yes;
Clasp him again within these longing arms, -   Your son Castalio has wrong'd Monimia!
Yet bless him; bless him, gods, whereter hegoes i    Acas. Ha!:wrong'd her..
Cham. Marry'd her.
-- Enter ACASTO...' —;Acas. I'm sorry for't,
Acas.'Sure some' ill'fate -is tow'rds -me; in my    Cham. -Why sorry 2? - -
house                                By yon bless'd heaven, there's not a lord
I only meet with oddness and disorder.       But might be proud to take her to his heart.
Just this very moment:                         Acas. I'll not deny't.- -'I met' Castalio too —-                        Cham. You dare not; by the gods,
Cham. Then you met a villain.             You dare not. All your family combin'd
Acas. Ha!                                  In one damn'd falsehood, to outdo Castalis,
Cham. Yes, a villain!                     Dare not deny't.
Aces. -'Have a care;, young soldier,         Acas. How has Castalio wrong'd her 2
HIow thou'rt too busy with Acasto's fame.      Chamin. Ask that of him. I say, my sister's
I have a sword, my arm's good old acquaintance:-  Monimia, my sister, born as -highs    [wrong'd.
Villain, to:thee....                     And noble as Castalio.-Do her justice,
Chain. -Curse on thy scandalous age,:   Or, by the. gods, I'll lay a scene of blood  --
Which hinders nie to rush upon thy throat,   Shall make, this dwelling horrible to nature. 
And tear the root up of that cursed bramble!' I'll do't;-Hark you, my lord, your son C(astalio,
Acas. Ungrateful. ruffian.! sure my good old Take him to your closet, and there teach him.friend.                               Acas. You shall have justice.   [manners.
Was ne'er thy father! Nothing of him's in thee!:  Cham.' Nay, I will have justice!
What have I done, in my; unhappy age,        Who'll sleep in safety that has done me wrong?
To be thus us'd? I' scorn to upbraid thee, -boy!  My lord, I'll not disturb you to repeat
But I could put thee in remembrance-         The cause of this; I beg you (to preserve
Cham. Do.                                  Your house's honour) ask it of Castalio.  [Exit.
Acas. I scorn it.                            Acas. Farewell, proud boy.Cham. No, I'll calmly hear the story;      Monimia:
For I would fain know all, to see which scale  Mon. My lord.
Weighs most.   Ha! is not that good old   Acas. You are my daughter.                [Ime.
Acasto?. -on. I am, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe to own
What have I done?-Can you forgive this folly?   Acas. When'you'll complain to me, I'll prove
Acas. Why dost thou ask it.                       a father.         "              xt




436                             THE ORPHAN.                                    [ACr v
Moon. Now I'm  undone for ever!. -Who on Let mischiefs multiply! let every hour
Is there so wretched as Monimia      [earth Of my loath'd life yield me increase of horror I
First by Castalio cruelly forsaken;          O let the sun, to these unhappy eyes,
I've lost Acasto now: his parting frowns     Ne'er shine again, but be eclips'd for ever I
May well instruct me, rage is in his heart.  May every. thing I look on seem a prodigy,
I shall be next abandon'd to my fortune,     To fill my soul with terrors, till I quite
Thrust out a naked wand'rer to the world,    Forget I ever had humanity,
And branded for the mischievous Monimia!     And grow a curser of the works of nature!
What will become of me? My cruel brother      Pot. What means all this?
Is framing mischiefs, too, for aught I know,   M/Ion. 0 Polydore! if all
That may produce bloodshed and horrid murder! The friendship e'er you vow'd to good Castalio
I would not be the cause of one man's death,  Be not a falsehood; if you ever lov'd
To reign the empress of the earth; nay, more,   Your brother, you've undone yourself and me.
I'd rather lose for ever my Castalio,          Pol. Which way can ruin reach the man that'My dear, unkind Castalio.        [Sits down.         rich
As I am, in possession of thy sweetness?
EMon. Oh! I'm his wife!
Poi. Monimia weeping!                        Pot. What says Monimia 
I come, my love, to kiss all sorrow from thee;  AlIon. I am Castalio's wife!
What means these sighs, and why thus beats   Pot. His married, wedded, wife?
thy heart?                            Mon. Yesterday's sun
Mon; Let me alone to sorrow;'tis a cause  Saw it perform'd!
None e'er shall know; bubcit shall with me die.    Pol. My brother's wife?
Poi. Happy, Monimia, he to whom these sighs,   Mon. As surely as we both
These tears, and all these languishings, are paid! Must taste of misery, that guilt is thine.
I know ybur; heart was never meant for me;     Pot. Oh! thou may'st yet be happy!
That jewel's for an elder brother's price.    Mon. Couldst thou be
Mon. My lord!                              Happy, with such a-weight upon thy soul?
Pot. Nay, wonder not; last night I heard     Pot. It may be yet a secret-I'll go try
His oaths, your vows, and to my torment saw  To reconcile and bring Castalio to thee!
Your wild embraces; heard the appointment made; Whilst from the world I take myself away,
I did, Monimia, and I curs'd the sound.      And waste my life in penance for my sin.
Wilt thou be sworn, my love  wilt thou be ne'er   Mon. Then thou wouldst more undo me: heap
Unkind again?                                       a load
Mon. Banish such fruitless hopes!          Of added sin upon my wretched head!
Have you sworn constancy to my undoing?     Wouldst thou again have me betray thy brother,
Will you be ne'er my friend again?          And bring pollution tohis arms — Curs'dthought 
Pot. What means my love?                  Oh! when shall I be mad indeed!      [Exit.
Mon. What meant my lord?                    Pot. Then thus I'll go;Last night             n                     Full of my guilt, distracted where to roam:
Pol. Is.that a question now to be demanded.  I'll find some place where adders nest in winter,
Mon. Was it well done                      Loathsome and venomous; where poisons hang
T' assault my lodging at the dead of night,  Like gums against the walls: there I'll inhabit,
And threaten me if I denied admittance       And live up to the height of desperation.
You said you were Castalio.                  Desire shall languish like a with'ring flower,
Pot. By those eyes,                        Horrors shall fright me from those pleasing harms,
It was the same: I spent my time much better.   And I'll no more be caught with beauty's charms.
Mon. Ha!-have a care!                                                         [Exit.
Pot. Where is the danger near me?    quiet,                 ACT V.
Mon. I fear you're, on a rock will wreck your        SCENE I-A  Garden.
And drown your soul in wretchedness for ever.
A thousand horrid thoughts crowd on my memory.   CASTALIO  discovered lying on the ground;
Will you be kind, and answer me one question?.         soft music.
Pot. I'd trust thee with my life; on that soft   Cas. See where the deer trot after one another:
bosom
No discontent they know: but in delightful
Breathe out the choicest secrets of my heart,
Breathe out the choicest secrets of my heart,  Wildness and freedom, pleasant springs, fresh
Till I had nothing in it left but love.   [angels, ldness and freedom, pleasant spr
Mon. Nay, I'll conjure.you, by the gods and Calm arbours, lusty health, and innocence,
By the honour of your name, that's most con- Enjoy arbours, lusty health and innocence,
cernd,                              Enjoy their portion:-if they -see a man,
Totellme, Poydore, and tl me tyH, How will they turn together all, and gaze
To tell me, Polydore, and tell me truly,    Upon the monster 
Where did you rest last night.         U     t 
WhPot. Within thy arms.   -,ght't         Once in a season, too, they, taste of love:
Pol. Within thy arms.                                        son is its slave:
Mon.'Tis done.                  [Faints. Only the beast of reason is its slave:
Pwon.'Ti don. She,            [help!-whowalnts.  OAnl iny that folly drudges all the year.
Pol. She faints!-no help!-who waits? —A
Enter AcAsTo.
curse
Upon my vanity, that could not keep            Acas..Castalio! Castalio!
The secret of my happiness in silence!         Cas. Who's there
Confusion! we shall be surpris'd anon;       So wretched but to name Castalio?
And consequently all must be betray'd.         Acas. I hope my message may succeed.
Monimia!-she breathes!-Moninia!             Cas. My father!                [nourish'd
Mon Well  -'Tis joy to see you, though where sorrow'g




S;ENEE II.J                     THE  ORPHAN.                                      437
Acas. Castalio, you must go along with me,   Acas. Boy, don't disturb the ashes of the dead
And see Monimia.                            With thy capricious follies; the remembrance
Cas. Sure my lord but mocks me:            Of the lov'd creature that once fill'd these armsCo see Monimia'.                              Cham. Has not been wrong'd.
Acas. I say, no more dispute.        [her.   Cas. It shall not.
Complaints are made to me that you have wrong'd   Chain.. No, nor shall
Cas. Who has complain'd  [wrong'd,  Monimia, though a helpless orphan, destitute
Acas. Her brother to my face proclaim'd her Of friends and fortune, though the unhappy sister
And in such terms they've warm'd me.         Of poor Chamont, whose sword is all his porCas. What terms? Her brother! Heaven!             tion,
Where learn'd he that?                      Be oppress'd by thee, thou proud, imperious
What, does she send her hero with defiance?         traitor!
He durst not sure affront you?                Cas. Ha! set me free.
Acas. No, not much:                          Cham. Come, both.                   [take
But-                                           Cas. Sir, if you'd have me think you did not
Cas. Speak, what said he?                 This opportunity to show your vanity,
Acas. That thou Wert a villain:            Let's meet some other time, when by ourselves
Methinks I would not have thee thought a villain. We fairly may dispute our wrongs together.
Cas. Shame on the ill-manner'd brute!       Cham. Till then I am Castalio's friend. [Exit.
Your age secur'd him; he durst not else have said.   Acas. Would I'd been absent when this boisAcas. By my sword,                                 t'ous brave
I would not see thee wrong'd, and bear it vilely:  Came to disturb thee thus. I'm griev'd I hinder'd
Though I have pass'd my word she shall have Thy just resentment-But, Monimiajustice.                       [her.   Cas. Damn her!
Cas. Justice! to give her justice would undo   Acas. Don't curse her.
Think you this solitude I now have chosen.-    Cas. Did I?
Wish'd to have grown one piece                 Acas. Yes.
With this cold clay, and all without a cause?  Cas. I'm sorry for't.             [small,
Enter CHAMONT.             Acas. Methinks, if, as I guess, the fault's but
It might be pardon'd.
Chamin. Where is the hero, famous and renown'd  C'as. No.
For wronging innocence, and breaking vows:     Acas. What has she done?      [forgive me.
Whose mighty spirit, and whose stubborn heart,    Cas. That she's my wife, may Heaven and you
No woman can appease, nor man provoke?         Acas. Be reconcil'd then.
Acas. I guess, Chamont, you come to seek    Cas. No.
Castalio?                             Acas. For my sake,
Cham. I come to seek the husband of Monimia. Castalio, and the quiet of my age.    [starts at?
Cas. The slave is here.                      Cas. Why will you urge a thing my nature
Cham. I thought ere now to have found you    Acas. Pr'ythee, forgive her.
Atoning for the ills you've done Chamont:      Cas. Lightnings first shall blast me!
For you have wrong'd the dearest part of him.   I tell you, were she prostrate at my feet,
Monimia, young lord, weeps in this heart;    Full of her sex's best dissembled sorrows
And all the tears thy injuries have drawn    And all that wondrous beauty of her own,
From her poor eyes, are drops of blood from hence. My heart might break, but it should never soften.
Cas. Then you are Chamont?                 Acas. Did you but know the agonies she feels —
Chamin. Yes, and 1 hope no stranger       She flies with fury over all the house;
To great Castalio.                           Through every room of each department, crying,
Cas. I've heard of such a man,            "Where's my Castalio? Give me my Castalio!"
That has been very busy with my honour.      Except she sees you, sure she'll grow distracted!
I own I'm much indebted to you, Sir,           Cas. Ha! will she? Does she name Castalio.
And here return the villain back again      And with such tenderness? Conduct me quickly
You sent me by my father.                    To the poor, lovely mourner.
Cham. Thus I'll thank you.       [Draws.   Acas. Then wilt thou go  Blessings attend
Acas. By this good sword, who first presumes       thy purpose!
to violence,                           Cas. I cannot hear Monimia's soul's in sadness,
Makes me his foe.     [Draws and interposes. And be a man: my heart will not forget her.
Cas. Sir, in my younger years with care you   Acas. Delay not then; but haste and cheer thy
taught me                                   love.
That brave revenge was due to injur'd honour:  Cas. Oh! I will. throw my impatient arms
Oppose not then the justice of my sword,             about her;
Lest you should make me jealous of your love.   In her soft bosom sigh my soul to peace 
Cham. Into thy father s arms thou fly'st for Till through the panting breast she finds the way
safety,                             To mould my heart, and make it what she will.
Because thou know'st that place is sanctified  Monimia! Oh!                    [Exeunt.
With the remembrance of an ancient friendship.
Cas. I am a villain, if I will not seek thee,       SCENE II.-A  Chamber.
Till I may be reveng'd for all the wrongs                 Enter MONIMIA.
Done me by that ungrateful fair thou plead'st for.
Chami. She wrong'd thee? By the fury in my   Mon. Stand off, and give me room;
heart,                              I will not rest till I have found Castalio.
Thy father's honour's not above Monimia's;    My wish's lord, comely as the rising day.
Nor was thy mother's truth and virtue fairer.    I cannot die in peace, till I have seen hin.
37*




438                            THE ORPHAN.                                     [ACT VY
Enter' CASTALIO.         -     Wilt thou not turn?-Oh!' could those eyes but
speak,
Cas..Who: talks of dying,. with a:: voice so I should know all, for love: is pregnant in'em;
sweet                                They swell, they press their beams upon me still:
That life's in love with it?               Wilt thou not speak? If we must part for ever,
LMon. Hark!'tis he that answers. -   -   Give me but one kind word to think upon,
Where art thou                   -           And. please myself withal, whilst my heart s
Cas. Here, my love.                                breaking.
Mon. No nearer, lest I vanish.  - [while.  Mon. Ah! poor Castalio!            [Exit.
Cas. Have I been in a dream then all this    Cas. What means all this. Why all this stir
And art thou but the shadow of Monimia:              to plague
Why dost thou fly me thus?                   A single wretch I' If but your word can shake
Mon. Oh! were it possible that we could drown  This world to atoms, why so much ado
In dark oblivion but a few past hours,       With me? think me but dead, and lay me so.
We might be happy.
Enter POLYDORE.
Cas. Is't then so hard, Monimia, to forgive
A  fault, when humble love, like mine, implores   Pol. To live, and live a torment to myself,
thee'                               What dog would bear't, that knew but his conFor I must love thee, though it proves my ruin.       dition.                  [ards,
I'll kneel to thee,;and weep a flood before thee.   We've little knowledge, and that makes us cowYet pr'ythee, tyrant, break not quite mn heart;   Because it cannot tell us what's to come.
But when my task of penitence is done,         Cas. Who's there 2
Heal it again, and comfort me with love.       Pol. Why, what art thou?
Mon. If I am dumb, Castalio, and want words   Cas. My brother Polydore?
To pay thee back this mighty tenderness,       Pol. My name is Polydore.
It is because I look on thee with horror,      Cas. Canst thou inform meAnd cannot see the man I have so wrong'd.      Pol. Of what?
Cas. Thou hast not wrong'd me.               Cas. Of my Monimia?
Mon. Ah! alas, thou talk'st                  Pol. No. Good day!
Just as thy poor heart thinks.- Have not I   Cas. In haste!
wrong'd thee?              -  -      Methinks my Polydore appears in sadness
Cas. No.                                     Pol. Indeed! and so to me does my Castalio.
Moen. Still thou wander'st in the dark, Castalio;    Cas. Do I?
But wilt, ere long, stumble on horrid danger.  Pol.: Thou dost.
Cas. My better angel, then do thou'inform:me    Cas. Alas, I've wondrous reason!
What danger threatens me, and where it lies;   I'm strangely alter'd, brother, since I saw thee..Why wert thou (r'ythee, smile, and tell me why)   Pol. Why? 
When I stood waiting underneath: the window,   Cas. I'll tell thee, Polydore; I would repose
Deaf to my cries, and senseless of my pains?  Within thy friendly bosom all my follies;
Mon. Did I not beg thee: to forbear inquiry?    For thou wilt pardon'em, because they're mine.
Read'st thou not'something in my- face, that' Pol. -Be not too credulous; consider first,
speaks.' -   Friends may be false. Is there no friendship
Wonderful change, and horror from within me?         false?
Gas. If, lab'ring in the pangs of death,     Cas. Why dost thou ask me that? Does this
Thou wouldst do any thing to give me ease,           appear
Unfold this riddle ere my thoughts grow wild,    Like a false friendship, when, with open arms
And let in fears of ugly form upon me.       And streaming eyes, I run upon thy breast?
M1on. My heart wont let me speak it; but re- Oh!'tis in thee alone I must have comfort!
member,                                Pol. I fear, Castalio, I have none to give thee.
Monimia, poor Monimia, tells you this:         Cas. Dost thou not love me then?
We ne'er must meet again-                      Pol. Oh, more than life;
Cas. Ne'er meet again?                    I never had a thought of my Castalio,'M-on. No; never.                    - --   Might wrong the friendship we had vow'd toCas. Where's the power                    Hast thou dealt so by me?           [gether.
On earth, that dares not look like thee, and say so?    Cas. I hope I have.
Thou art my heart's inheritance: I serv'd      Pol. Then tell'me why, this morning, this disA: long and faithful slavery for thee;               order?
And who shall rob me of the dear-bought bless-   Cas. 0 Polydore, I know not how to tell thee;
ing?                                 Shame rises in my face, and interrupts
Mon. Time will clear all; but now let this con- The story of my tongue.
tent you:                             Pol. I grieve, my friend
Heaven has:decreed, and therefore I've resolv'd   Knows any thing which he's asham'd to tell me.
(With tWorment I must tell' it thee, Castalio)  Cas. Oh, much too oft. Our destiny contriv'd
Eiver ta -be a stranger to thy love,         To plague us both with one unhappy love!
In some far distant country waste my life,   Thou, like a friend, a constant, gen'rous friend,
And from this day to see thy face no more.   In its-first pangs didst trust me with thy passion,
Cas. Why turn!st: thou from me? I'm alone Whilst I still smooth'd my pain with smiles before
already.                                    thee,
Methinks I stand- upon analked beach,        And~ made a contract I ne'er meant to keep.
Sighing to winds, and to the seas complaining,  Pol.. How!
Whilst afar off the: vessel sails away,        Cas. Still new ways I studied to abuse thee,
Where all; the treasure of my soul's embark'd;   And kept thee as a stranger to my passion,




SCENE: I.]                     T H E  OR PH AN,                                    439
fTill ye6sterday I wedded with Monimia.        Pol. Now my Castalio is again my friend.
Pol. Ah! Castalio, was that well done  Cas. What have I done? my sword is in thy
Cas. No; to conceal't from thee was much a         breast.
fault.                                 Pol. So would I have it be, thou'best of men,
Pol. A fault! when thou hast heard        Thou kindest brother, and thou truest friend!
The tale I'll tell, what wilt thou call it then?  Cas. Ye gods! we're taught that all your works
Cas. How my heart throbs!                         are justice:
Pol. First from thy friendship, traitor,   Ye're painted merciful, and friends to innocence.
I cancel't thus:: after this day I'll ne'er  If so, then why these plagues upon my head?
Hold trust or converse with the false Castalio!  Pol. Blame not the heavens,'tis Polydore has
This, witness, Heaven.                               wrong'd thee;
Cas. What will my fate do with me?        I've stain'd thy bed; thy spotless marriage joys
I've lost all happiness, and know not why!   Have been polluted by thy brother's lust.
WVVhat means this, brother?                   Cas. By thee 2
Pol. Perjur'd, treach'rous wretch,           Pol. By me, last night, the horrid deed
Farewell!                                   Was done, when all things slept but rage and inCas. I'll be thy slave, and thou shalt use me      cest.
J-st as thou wilt, do but forgive me.          Cas. Now, where's Monimia 1 Oh!
Pol. Never.                       [doing:
Cas. Oh! think a little what thy heart is               Enter MONIMIA.
How, from our infancy, we hand in hand
Have trod the path of life in love together.   Mon. I'm here! who calls me?
One bed has held us, and the same desires,   Methought I heard a voice
The same aversions, still employ'd our thoughts.  Sweet as the shepherd's pipe upon the mountains,
Whene'er had I a friend that was not Polydore's, When all his little flock's at feed before him.
Or Polydore a foe that was not mine?        But what means this? here's blood!
E'en in the womb we embrac'd; and wilt thou    Cas. Ay, brother's blood!
now,                                 Art thou prepar'd for everlasting pains?
For the first fault, abandon and forsake me?  Pol. Oh! let me charge thee, by th' eternal
Leave me, amidst afflictions, to myself,            justice,
Plung'd in the gulf of grief, and none to help me? Hurt not her tender life?
Pol. Go to Monimia; in her arms thou'Ilt find    Cas. Not kill her?
Repose; she has the art of healing sorrows.    Mon. That task myself have finish'd: I shall
Cas. What arts?                                   die
Pol. Blind wretch! thou husband.?: there's a Before we part: I've drunk a healing draught
question!                            For all my cares, and never more shall wrong
Is she not a-.                    thee.
Cas. What?                                  Pol. Oh, she's innocent.
Pol. Whore? I think that word needs no ex-   Cas. Tell me that story,
plaining.                            And thou wilt make a wretch of me, indeed.
Cas. Alas! I can forgive e'en this to thee;  Pot. Hadst thou, Castalio, us'd me like a
But let me tell thee, Polydore, I'm griev'd,         friend,
To find thee guilty of such low revenge,     This ne'er had happen'd; hadst thou let me
To wrong that virtue which thou couldst not          know
ruin.                                Thy marriage, we had all now met in joy:
Pol. It seems I lie, then!                 But, ignorant of that,
Cas. Should the bravest man               Hearing th' appointment made, enrag'd to think.
That e'er wore conq'ring sword, but dare to Thou hadst undone me in successful love,
whisper                             I, in the dark, went and supplied thy place;
What thou proclaim'st, he were the worst of liars. Whilst all the night, midst our triumphant joys,
My friend may be mistaken.                   The trembling, tender, kind, deceiv'd Monimia,
Pol. Damn the evasion!                    Embrac'd, caress'd, and call'd me her Castalio.
Thou: mean'st the worst! and he's a base-born                                     [Dies
That said, I lied!                   [villain    Mon. Now, my Castalio, the most dear of men,
Cas. A. base-born villain!               Wilt thou receive pollution to thy bosom,
Pol. Yes! thou never cam'st               And close the eyes of one that has betray'd you'
From old Acasto's loins: the-midwife put        Cas. O, I'm  the unhappy wretch, whose
A cheat upon my mother; and, instead                 cursed fate
Of a true brother, in the cradle by me       Has weigh'd you down into destruction with
Plac'd some coarse* peasant's cub, and thou art      him:
he!                                Why then thus kind to me!
Cas. -Thou art my brother still.             MIon. When I'm laid down i' th' grave, aind
Po1. Thou liest!                                   quite forgotten,
Cas. Nay, then-                   [Draws. May'st thou be happy in a fairer bride!
Yet, I am calm.                              But none can ever love thee like Monimia.
Pol. A coward's always so.                 When I am dead, as presently I shall be,
Cas. Ah!-ah!-that stings home! Coward!  (For the grim tyrant grasps my hand already,)
Pol. Ay, base-born coward! villain!       Speak well of me: and if thou find ill tongues
Cas. This to thy heart, then, though my mo- Too busy with my fame, don't hear me wrong d;
ther bore thee!'Twill be a noble justice to the memory
[They fight; POLYDORE runs on CAS- Of a poor wretch, once honour'd with thy love.
TALIO'S sword.                                                         [Dies




440                            THE ORPHAN.                                   [ACT V.
Enter CHAMONT and ACASTO.           With all those humble thoughts, which still have
Cham. Gape, earth, and swallow me to quick       sway'd
destruction,                        His pride much doubting, trembling and afraid
If i forgive your house!                   Of what is to his want of merit due 
Ye've overpower'd me now!                 And aw'd by every excellence in you,
But, hear me, Heaven!-Ah! here's a scene of The author sends to beg you will be kind
death!                             And spare those many faults you needs must
iMy sister, my Monimia, breathless!-Now,          find.
Ye powers above, if ye have justice, strike!  You, to whom wit a common foe is grown,
Strike bolts through me, and through the curs'd The thing ye scorn and publicly disown.
Castalio t                         Though now, perhaps, ye're here for other ends,
Cas. Stand off; thou hot-braind, boisterous, He swears to me ye ought to be his friends:
noisy, ruffian!                    For he ne'er call'd ye yet insipid tools,
And leave me to my sorrows.                Nor wrote one line to tell ye you were fools:
Cham. By the love                        But says of wit ye have so large a store,
I bore her living, I will ne'er forsake her;  So very much you never will have more.
But here remain till my heart burst with sobbmg. He ne'er with libel treated yet the town,
Cas. Vanish, I charge thee  or —         The names of honest men bedaub'd and shown.
[Draws a dagger. Nay, never once lampoon'd the harmless life
Chamn. Thou canstnot kill me!            Of suburb virgin, or of city wife.
That would be a kindness, and against thy na- Satire's the effect of poetry's disease,
ture!                             Which, sick of a lewd age, she vents for ease,
Acas. What means Castalio!  Sure thou wilt But now her only strife should be to please;
not pull                            Since of ill fate the baneful cloud's withdrawn,
More sorrows on thy aged father's head!   And happiness again begins to dawn,
Tell me, I beg you, tell me the sad cause  Since back with joy and triumph he is come,
Of all this ruin.                          That always drew fears hence, ne'er brought'em
Cas. Thou, unkind Chamont,                       home.
Unjustly hast pursu'd me with thy hate,    Oft has he plough'd the boist'rous ocean o'er,
And sought the life of him that never wrong'd Yet ne'er more welcome to the longing shore,
thee:                              Not when he brought home victories before;
Now, if thou wilt embrace a noble vengeance,    For then fresh laurels flourish'd on his brow;
Come join with me, and curse-              And he comes crown'd with olive-branches now
Cham. What?                              Receive him-oh, receive him as his friends,
Acas. IH-ave patience.                   Embrace the blessing which he recommends:
Cas. Patience! preach it to the winds,  Such quiet as your foes shall ne'er destroy;
To roaring seas, or raging fires! for, curs'd  Then shake off fears, and clap your hands fbr
As I am now,'tis this must give me patience:      joy.
Thus I find rest, and shall complain no more.
[Stabs hinsef.               EPILOGUE.
Chamont, to thee my birthright I bequeath:Comfort my mourning father-heal his griefs;             SPOKEN BY SERINA.
[ACAsTo faints into the arms of a Servant.
For I perceive they fall with weight upon him-    YOU'VE seen one orphan ruin'd here; and I
And, for Monimia's sake, whom thou wilt find   May be the next, if old Acasto die:
I never wrong'd, be kind to poor Serina-   Should it prove so, I'd fain amongst you find
Now all I beg is, lay me in one grave      Who'tis would to the fatherless be kind.
Thus with my love: farewell! I now am no- To whose protection might I safely go?
thing.                       [Dies. Is there among you no good nature? No.
Chainm. Take care of good Acasto, whilst I go  What shall I do   Should I the godly seek,
To search the means by which the fates have And go a conventicling twice a weekl
plagu'd us.                        Quit the lewd stage, and its profane pollution,'Tis thus that heaven its empire does maintain:  Affect each form and saint-like institution;
It may afflict; but man must not complain.  So draw the brethren all to contribution?
[Exeunt. Or shall I (as I guess the poet may
Within these three days) fairly run away?
No; to some city lodgings I'll retire;
Seem very grave, and privacy desire;
PROLOGUE.                    Till I am thought some heiress, rich in lands,
Fled to escape a cruel guardian's hands;
To you, great judges, in this writing age,  Which may produce a story worth the telling,
The sons of wit, and patrons of the stage,  Of the next sparks that go a fortune stealing.




A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS:
A COMEDY,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY PHILIP MASSINGER.
REMARKS.
IT has been said, that Massinger surpassed all the writers of the " olden time" in purity of style and delicacy
of manners; many have considered him as second only to Shakspeare. The immoral conduct of the drama in
that age renders such an admission of slight value now, but it may fairly be conceded, that the writer of this
somedy, of the City Madam, (on which Sir J. Burgess has framed' Riches,") of the Fatal Dowry, and many
others, possessed a mind of no ordinary or limited capability. Mr. Gifford, the able editor of Massinger, is of
opinion that a real person was aimed at in Sir Giles Overreach: fortunately for mankind, such monstrous deviations from " nature and from nature's laws" do not often appear, but there can be little doubt of their reality.
The variety of character and incident in this play, the strong and lively picture of domestic manners, the serious moral so distinctly deducible from it, are qualities sufficient to veil greater faults than can fairly be attached
to this production.
The animated performance of the principal character by Mr. Cooke, and since by Mr. Kean with increased
effect, have placed this comedy on the stock-list of our Royal Theatres.
DRAMATIS PERSON 2E.
LORD LOVELL,.................Mr. Holland.   AMBLE...........r.  Maddocks.
SIR GILES OVERREACH,............Mr. Kean.      WATCHALL....................Mr. Ebsworth.
WELLBORN..                      Mr. Harley.    CREDITORS............            Messrs. Cook,
ALLWORTH,...................... Mr. S. Penley,                                     eb,  c.
JUSTICE GREEDY,.......Mr. Oxberry.   SI GILES'SERVANTS...   Mess. Goodman,
MIARRALL.....Mr. Munden.............Veals, c.
WELLDOR.................. r.... Carr.
VINTNERS..... Mr. Wewitzer. LADY ALLWORTH.............. Mrs. Glover.
TAILOR,....Mr.....                  Cnveney.  MARGARET,........             Mrs. Horn.
TAPWELL.......................Mr. Hughes.   ABIGAIL....................Mrs. Chatterley
ORDER,......Mr. Minton.  TABITHA,........                        Mrs. Scott.
FURNACE,..................... r. Penley.   i FROTH,........                  Miss Tidswell
SCENE.-Nottinghamshire.
ACT I.                         Well. How! dog             [Raising his stict.
SCENE I —The outside of a Village Alehouse.    Tap. Even so, Sir. Advance your Plymouth
cloak;                        [worship,
Enter WELLBORN, TAPWELL, and FROTH.    There dwells, and within call, if it please your
Well. No liquor! nor no credit?  A potent monarch, call'd the constable,
Tap. None, Sir;                              That does command a citadel, call'd the stocks;
Not the remainder of a single can,              Such as with dexterity will haul
Left by a drunken porter.                       Your poor tatter'dFroth. Not the dropping of the tap for your    Well. Rascal! slave!
morning's draught, Sir.                    Froth. No rage, Sir.'Tis verity, I assure you.                        Tap. At his own peril! Do not put yourself
Well. Verity, you brach!                     In too much heat, there being no water near
The devil turn'd precisian? Rogue, what am I?  To quench your thirst; and sure for other liquor,
Tap. Troth! durst I trust you with a looking- As mighty ale, or beer, they are things, I take it,
glass,                                   You must no more remember; not in a dream, Sir
To let you see your trim shape, you would quit     Well. WVhy, thou unthankful villain, dark/
me,                                             thou talk thus?
And take the name yourself.                     Is not thy house, and all thou hast, my gift'
VOL. 1.. 3 K                                                               441




442               A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.'ACtrr
Tap. I find it not in chalk, Sir; and Timothy    Froth. This comes of your prating husband;
Tapwell                                you presum'd on your ambling wit, and must use
D-es keep no other register.                  your glib tongue, though you are beaten lame for't.
Well. Am I not he                             Tap. Patience, Froth,
Whose riots fed and cloth'd thee?. Wert thou not There's law to cure our bruises.
Born on my father's land, and proud to be       [Exeunt TAPWELL and FROTH into the house.
A drudge in his house!                         Well. Sent for to your mother?
Tap. What I was, Sir, it skills not;         Allw. My lady, Frank, my patroness! my all!
What you are is apparent. Now for a farewell;  She's such a mourner for my father's death,
Since you talk of father, in my hope it will tor- And, in her love to him, so favours me,
ment you,                              That 1 cannot pay too much observance to her.
I'll briefly tell your story. Your dead father,  There are few such step-dames.
Old Sir John Wellborn,                          Whell.'Tis a noble widow,
My quondam master. was a man of worship;      And keeps her reputation pure, and clear
Bore the whole sway of the shire; kept a good *From the least taint of infamy; but
house;                                 Pr'ythee tell me, has she no suitors.
Reliev'd the poor, and so forth; but he dying,  Allw. Even the best of the shire, Frank,
And the twelve hundred a year coining to you,   My lord excepted: such as sue and send,
Late master Francis, but now forlorn Wellborn —  And send and sue again; but to no purpose,
Well. Slave, stop! or I shall lose myself.  *Yet she's so far from sullenness and pride,
Froth. Very hardly.:-:That I dare undertake you shall meet from her
You cannot be out of your way.      [gallant, A liberal entertainment.
Tap. You were then a lord of acres, the -prime    Well. I doubt it not.
And I your under butler: —nte the change now: Now, Allworth; mark my counsel. I am bound
You had:a merry time of't.  Hawks andghounds,      to give it.
With choice of running horses; mistresses,    Thy father was my friend; and that affection
And other such extravagances;                 I bore to: him, in right descends to thee:
Which your uncle, Sir Giles Overreach; observing, I will not see the least affront stick on thee
Resolving not to lose so fair all oppo)rtunity,  If I, with any danger can prevent it.
On foolish mortgages, statutes, and bonds,   -  Allw. T thank your noble care; but, pray you.
For awhile supplied your lavishness, and then-left  in what
you.                         [mongrel, Do I run the hazard 
Well.. Some curate has penn'd this invetive,    Well. Art thou not in love? 
And you have studied it.                     Put it not off with wonder.
T'ap. I have not done yet.                   Allw. In love, at my years?    [transparent.
Your lands gone, and your credit not worth a token,   Well. You think you walk in clouds, but are
You grew the common borrower; no man'scap'd  I have heard all, and the choice that you have made;
Your paper pellets, from the gentleman to the And, with my finger, can point out the north star
groom;                                 By which the loadstone of your folly's guided.
While I, honest Tim Tapwell, with a little stock, And to confirm this true, what think you of
Some forty pounds or so, bought a small cottage,   Fair Margaret, the only child and heir
And humbled myself to marriage with my Froth  Of cormorant Overreach? Dost blush and start,
here.                                  To hear her:-only nam'd. Blush at your want
Well. Hear me, ungrateful hell-hound! did not I Of wit and reason.
Make purses for you? then you lick'd my boots,    Allw. Howe'er you have discover'd my intents,
And thought your holiday cloak too coarse to You know my aims are lawful; and if ever
clean'em.                             The queen of flowers, the glory of the spring,'Twas I, that when I heard thee swear, if ever   Sprung from an envious briar, I may infer,
Thou couldst arrive at forty pounds, thou wouldst There's such disparity in their conditions
Live like an emperor:'twas I that gave it,   Between the goddess of my soul, the daughter,
In ready gold. Deny this, wretch!             And the base churl, her father.
Tap. I must, Sir.                            Well. Grant this true,
For from the tavern to the tap-house, all,   As 1 believe it; canst thou ever hope
On forfeiture of their licence, stand bound  To enjoy a quiet bed with her, whose father
Never to remember who their best guests were,   Ruin'd thy'state.
If they grow poor like you.                     Allw. And vour's too.
Well. They are well rewarded                 Well. I confess it, Allworth;
That beggar themselves to make suchrascals rich. I must tell. you as a friend, and freely,
Thou viper, thankless viper!                 That, where impossibilities are apparent,
But since you are grown forgetful, I will help'Tis indiscretion to nourish hopes.
Your memory, andhbeat thee into remembrance;  Or canst thou think (if self-love' blind thee not)
Nor leave one bone unbroken.     [Beats him. That Sir Giles Overreach (that to make her great
Tap. Oh, oh, oh!                          In swelling:titles, without touch of conscience,
Froth. Help! help!                        Will cut his neighbour s throat, and I hope his
own too)
Enter ALLWORTH.                 Will e'er consent to make her thine? Give c'er,
Alwu. Hold, for my sake, hold!             And think of some course suitable to thy rank,
Deny me, Frank 2 they are not worth your anger. And prosper in it.
-Well. For once thou hast redeem'd them from    Allw. You have well advis'd me.
this sceptre:                          But, in the meanwhile, you, that are so studious
But let'em vanish;      [Shaking his cudgel. Of my affairs, wholly neglect your own.
For if they grumble, I revoke my pardon.      Remember yourself, and in what ulight you are.




CENE'II.l    A NEW W A Y:: TO PAY O LD DEB TS.L                                      443
Well. No matter, no matter.                With none so much as the thin-gutted'squire,
Allw. Yes,'tis much material:              That's stolen into commission.
You know my fortune and my means: yet some-   Order. Justice Greedy?
thing                                     Fur. The same, the same. Meat's cast away
I can spare from myself, to help your wants.        upon him;
[Offers money. It never thrives. He holds this paradox,
Well. -How's this?                          "Who eats not well, can ne'er do justice well."
Allw. Nay, be not angry.                    His stomach's as insatiate as the grave.
Well. Money from thee?:  [A knocking.
From a boy? one that lives                     Amble. One knocks.
At the devotion of a step-mother,
And the uncertain favour of a lord?                         Enter ALLWORTH.
I'll eat my arms first.-  Howsoe'er blind Fortune    Order. Our late young master.
Hath spent the utmost of her malice on me;      Amble. Welcome, Sir.
Though I am thrust out of an alehouse,          Fur. Your hand.
And thus accoutred; know not where. to eat,  If you have a stomach, a cold bake-meat's ready.
Or drink, or sleep, but underneath this canopy;  Order. His father's picture in little.
Although I thank thee; I disdain thy offer.     Fur. We are all your servants.
And as I, in my madness, broke my state         Allw,. At once, my thanks to all;
Without th' assistance of another's brain,    This is some comfort. Is my lady stirring 
In my right wits I'll piece it; at the worst,
I)ie thus, and be forgotten.                             Enter LADY ALLWORTH.
Allw. Fare thee well.    [Exeunt. severally.   Order. Her presence answers for us.
Lady A. I'll take the air alone.
SCENE 1I.-A Room in LADY ALLWORTH'S   And, as I gave directions, if this morning
House.                     I am visited by any, entertain'em
As heretofore; but say, in my excuse,
Enter ORDER, AMBLE, and FURNACE.         I am indispos'd.
Order. I shall, Madam.
Order. Set all things right, or, as my name is   Lady A. Do, and leave me.
Order,                                                     [Exit -ORDER. AMBLE, 4C.
Whoever misses in his function,         [fast, Nay, stay you, Allworth.
For one whole week makes forfeiture of his break- How is it with your noble master?
And privilege in the wine cellar.               Allw. Ever like himself;
Amble. You are merry,                       No scruple lessen'd in the full weight of'honour.
Jood master steward.                          He did command me, (pardon my presumption,)
Fur. Let him; I'll be angry.                As his unworthy deputy, to kiss
Amble. Why, fellow Furnace,'tis not twelve Your ladyship's fair hands.
o'clock yet,                              Lady A. I am honour'd in
Nor dinner taking up; then'tis allow'd,      His favour to rue. Does he hold his purpose
Cooks;- by their places, may be choleric.     For the Low Countries?
Fur. You think you have spoken wisely, good-   Allw. Constantly, good Madam;
man Amble,                             But he will in person first present his service.
My lady's go-before.                            Lady A. What say you to his purpose? You ar
Order. Nay, nay, no wrangling.             Like virgin parchment, capable of any
Fur. Twit me with the authority of the kitchen? Inscription, vicious or honourable.
At all hours, and at all places, I'll be angry;  I will not force your will, but leave you free
And, thus provok'd, when I am at my prayers    To your own election.
I will be angry.                                Alw. Any form you please
Amble. There was no hurt meant.             I will put on; but, might I make my choice,
Fur. I am friends with thee, and yet I will be With humble emulation I would follow
angry.                                 The path my lord marks to me.
Order. With whom?                            Lady A.'Tis well answer'd,
Fur. No matter whom; yet, now I think on't, And I commend your spirit. You had a father
I'm angry with my lady.        -              (Bless'd be his memory!) that, some few hours
Amble. Heaven forbid, man.                  Before the will of Heaven took him from me
Order. What cause has she given thee?      Did-commend you, by the dearest ties
Fur. Cause enough; master steward;          Of perfect love between us, to my care;
I was entertain'd by her to -please her -palate,  And therefore what I speak you are bound to hear,
And, till she forswore eating, I perform'd it.  With such respect as if he liv'd in me.
Now since our master, noble Allworth, died,     Allw. I have found you,
Though I crack my brain to find out tempting Most;honour'd Madam, the best mother to me;
When I am three parts roasted,   - -   [sauces, And with my utmost strength of care and service
And the fourth part' parboiled, to prepare her Will labour, that you never may repent
viands,                                Your bounties shower'd upon me.
She keeps her chamber, dines with a panada      Lady A. I much hope it.
Or water gruel; my:sweat ne'er thought on.-   These were your father's words: "If e'er myYson
Order. — But your artis seeniin the dining-room. Follow the war, tell him it is a school
Fur. By whom.- -.  In which all the principles tending to honour
Bv such as pretend to love her, but come -    Are. taught, if truly follow'd; but for such
To: feed upon her. Yet, of all the harpies    As repair thither as a place in which
That do devour her, I-am out of charity       They do presume they may with license practice




444             A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.                                       LAer L
Their lawless riots, they shall never merit.  All business set aside, let us give thanks here.
The noble name of soldiers.-                    Sir G. You know we cannot.
To obey their leaders, and shun mutinies;      VMar. Your worships are to sit on commission,
To dare boldly                                And if you fail to come you lose the cause.
In a fair cause, and for the country's safety   Just. Gr. Cause me no causes: I'll prove't, for
To run upon the cannon's mouth undaunted;           such a dinner,
To bear with patience the winter's cold       We may put off a commission; you shall find it
And summer's scorching heat;                  Henrici decimo quarto.
Are the essentials to make up a soldier,        Sir G. Fie, Mr. Greedy,
Not swearing, dice, or drinking."             Will you lose me a thousand pounds for a dinner?
Allw. There's no syllable                  No more, for shame! We must forget the belly,
You speak, but is to me an oracle,            When we think of profit.
Which but to doubt were impious.                Just. Gr. Well, you shall overrule me.
Lady A. To conclude:-                       I could even now cry. Do you hear, master Cook?
Beware ill company; for often men             Send but a corner of that immortal pasty,
Are like to those with whom they do converse:   And I in thankfulness will, by your boy,
And from one man I warn you, and that's Well- Send you a brace of threepences.
born:-                                    Fur. Will you be so prodigal?
Not'cause he's poor-that rather claims your pity;   Sir Gr. Remember me to your lady.
But that he's in his manners so deprav'd,
And hath in vicious courses lost himself.'Tis true your father lov'd him, while he was  Who have we here?
Worthy the loving; but if he had liv'd          Well. You know me.
To have seen him as he is, he had cast him off,  Sir G. I did once, but now I will not 
Which you must do.                            Thou art no blood of mine. A vaunt, thoe hbegg
Allw. I shall obey in all things.           If ever thou presume to cross me more,
Lady A. Follow me to my chamber; you shall I'll have thee cag'd and whipp'd.
have gold                                 Just. G. I'll grant the warrant.
To furnish you like my son, and still supplied    Think of pie-corner, Furnace.
As I hear from you.                                 [Exeunt SIR GILES OVERREACH, JUSTIC
Allw. I am still bound to you.    [Exeunt.          GREEDY, and MARRALL.
SCENE III.-A Hall in LADY ALLWORTH'S    Amble. Will you out, Sir'l
House.                     I wonder how you durst creep in.
House.                                                  [To WELLBORN
Enter SIR GILES OVERREACH, JUSTICE GREEDY,   Order. This is rudeness 
ORDER, AMBLE, FURNACE, and MARRALL.   And saucy impudence.
Just. Gr. Not to be seen 1                    Amble. Cannot you stay
Sir G. Still cloister'd up? Her reason,     To be serv'd among your fellows from the basket
1 hope, assures her, though she make herself  But you must press into the hall 7
Close prisoner ever for her husband's loss,     Fur. Pr'ythee, vanish'Twill not recover him.                       Ilnto some out-house, though it be the pig-stye
Order. Sir, it is her will,                 My scullion shall come to thee.
Which we, that are her servants, ought to serve,
And not dispute. Howe'er, you are nobly welcome;-                                    Well. This is rare,
And if you please to stay, that you may think so, Oh, here is Tom Allworth!-Tom!
There came, not six days hence, from Hull, a pipe   AlUw. We must be strangers;
Of rich Canary, which shall spend itself      Nor would I have you seen here for a million.
For my lady's honour.                                                                [Exit.
Just. Gr. Is it of the right sort?           Well. Better and better. He contemns me too,
Order. Yes, Mr. Greedy.                       Fur. Will you know your way.
Amble. How his mouth runs o'er!   [Apart.   Amble. Or shall we teach it you,
Fur. I'll make it run and run. [Apart.] Save By the head and shoulders?
your good worship!                         Vell. No, I will not stir:
Just. Gr. Honest Mr. Cook, thy hand-again! Do you mark, I will not. Let me see the wretch
How I love thee!                      That dares attempt to force me. Why, you slaves,
Are the good dishes still in being? speak, boy.    Created only to make legs and cringe,
Fur. If you have a mind to feed, there is a chine To carry in a dish and shift a trencher,
)f beef well season'd.                       That have not souls only to hope a blessing
Just. Gr. Good.                             Beyond your master's leavings-who advances?
Fur. A pheasant larded.                           who
Just. Gr. That I might now give thanks for't!  Shows me the way?            [Beats thien.
Fur. Besides, there came last night, from the    All the Servants. Help, help!
forest of Sherwood,                       Order. Here comes my lady.
The fattest stag I ever cook'd.                          LADY ALLWORTH enters.
Just. Gr. A stag, man                                  LADY ALLWORTH enters.
Fur. A stag, Sir; part of it is prepar'd for dinner,   Lady A. What noise is this?
And bak'd in puff-paste.                        Well. Madam, my designs bear me to you.
Just. Gr. Puff-paste too, Sir Giles!          Lady A. To me?
A pond'rons chine of beef! a pheasant larded!  Well. And though I have met with
And red deer too, Sir Giles, and bak'd in puff- But ragged entertainment from your giooms here,
paste!                                  I hope from you to receive that noble usage,




SCENE I.]   A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.                                            445
As may become the true friend of your husband; To throw away a little respect upon me.
And then I shall forget these.                 Lady A. What you demand is yours.
Lady A. I am amaz'd                        Respect this gentleman as'twere myself.
To see and hear this rudeness. Dar'st thou think,                       [ To the Servants.
Though sworn, that it can ever find belief,  Adieu, dear master Wellborn;
That I, who to the first men of this country  Pray let me see you with your oft'nest means.
Denied my presence since my husband's death,   Well. Your honour's servant.
Can fall so low as to change words with thee 1     [Kisses her hand; exit LADY ALLWORTH.
Well. Scorn me not, good lady;            Now, what can be wrought out of such a suit
But, as in form you are angelical,          Is yet in supposition. [Servants bow to WELL.]
Imitate the heavenly natures, and vouchsafe        Nay, all's forgotten;
At least awhile to hear me. You will grant   And, for a lucky omen to my project,
The blood that runs in this arm is as noble  Shake hands, and end all quarrels in the cellar.
As that which fills your veins. Your swelling titles,   Order. Agreed, agreed.
Equipage, and fortune, your men's observance,  Fur. Still merry, Mr. Wellborn.
And women's flattery, are in you no virtues;                           [Exeunt Servants.
Nor these rags, with my poverty, in me vices.  Well. Faith, a right worthy and a liberal lady,
You have a fair name, and I know deserve it;    Who can at once so kindly meet my purposes,
Yet, lady, I must say in nothing more        And brave the flouts of censure, to redeem
Than in the pious sorrow you have shown      Her husband's friend! When by this honest plot
For your late noble husband.                 The world believes she means to heal my wants
Order. There he touch'd her.      [Aside. With her extensive wealth, each noisy creditor
Well. That husband, Madam, was once in his Will be struck mute, and I be left at large
fortune                                To practise on my uncle Overreach.
Almost as low as I. Want, debts, and crosses,   Here I may work the measure, to redeem
Lay heavy on him: let it not be thought      My mortgag'd fortune, which he stripp'd me of
A boast in me, though I say I reliev'd him.  When youth and dissipation quell'd my reason.'Twas I did give him fashion; mine the sword    The fancy pleases,-if the plot succeed,
That did on all occasions second his;'Tis a new way to pay old debts, indeed. [Exit.
I brought him on and off with honour, lady:
And when in all men's judgments he was sunk,                  ACT II.
And in his own hopes not to be buoy'd up,
[ stepp'd unto him, took him by the hand,     SCENE I.-A Landscape near LADY ALLAnd brought him to the shore.                              WORTH'S Park.
-Fur. Are we not base rogues
That could forget this?             [Aside.   Enter SIR GILES OVERREACH and MARRALL.
That could forget this?            f[Aside.
Well. I confess you made him                Sir G. He's gone, I warrant thee; this comMaster of your estate; nor could your friends,     mission crush'd him.
Though he brought no wealth with him, blame    Mar. Your worship has the way on't, and ne'er
you for't:                                   miss
For he had a shape, and to that shape a mind  To squeeze these unthrifts into air; and yet
Made up of all parts, either great or noble;  The chop-fall'n justice did his part, returning
So winning a behaviour, not to be            For your advantage the certificate,
Resisted, Madam.                             Against his conscience and his knowledge too,
Lady A.-'Tis most true, he had.          (With your good favour,) to the utter ruin
Well. For his sake then, in that I was his friend, Of the poor farmer.
Do not contemn me.                             Sir G.'Twas for these good ends
Lady A. For what's past, excuse me;        I made him a justice. He that bribes his belly
I will redeem it.   [Offers him her pocket-book. Is certain to command his soul.
Well. Madam, on no terms;                   Mar. I wonder
I will not beg nor borrow sixpence of you;  Why, your worship having
But be supplied elsewhere, or want thus ever.    The power to put this thin gut in commission,
Only one suit I make: pray give me leave.   You are not in't yourself.
[LADY ALLWORTH signs to the Servants to   Sir G. Thou art a fool;
retire.                               In being out of office, I am out of danger;
I will not tire your patience with relation  Where, if I were a justice, besides the trouble,
Of the bad arts my uncle Overreach          I might, or out of wilfulness or error,
Still forg'd, to strip me of my fair possessions;    Run myself finely into a premunire;
Nor how he shuts the door upon my want.      And so become a prey to the informer.
Would you but vouchsafe                      No, I'll have none of't:'tis enough I keep
To your dead husband's friend, such seeming grace Greedy at my devotion: so he serve
As might beget opinion in Sir Giles          My purposes, let him hang, or damn, I care not.;
Of a true passion toward me, you would see,  Friendship is but a word.
In the mere thought to prey on me again,       Mar. You are all wisdom.
He'd turn my friend,                           Sir G. I would be worldly wise; for the other
OQuit all my owings, set me trimly forth,          wisdom,
And furnish'd well with gold; which I should use, That does prescribe us a well-govern'd life,
I trust, to your no shame, lady, but live    And to do right to others as ourselves;
Ever a grateful debtor to your gentleness.   I value not an atom.
Lady A. What, nothing else?                  Mar. What course take you
Well. Nothing, unless you please to charge (With your good pleasure) to hedge in the manol
your servants                         Of your good neighbour, Mr. Frugal? As'tis said38




446             A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS,                                     LACTIx.
He will not sell, nor borrow, nor exchange;    ~  Sir G. And, therefore, I'll not have a chamber
And his land, lying in the midst of your many       maid
Is a foul blemish.                - [lordships, That ties her shoes, or any meaner office,
-Sir G.. Ihave thought on't, Marrall,      But, such whose fathers were right worshipful. 
And it shall take. I must have all men sellers,'Tis a rich man's pride! there having ever been
And I the only purchaser..   More than a feud, a strange antipathy,
Mar.'Tis most fit, Sir.                   Between us and true gentry.
Sir G. I'll therefore buyy some cottage near his        Ete       LL
manor,  -.... --.Enter WELLBORN,
-manor,; 
-Which- done, I'll::make my. men break ope' his   MlAar. See! who!s here, Sir..
fences,                                  Sir G. Hence, monster, prodigy! 
Ride o'er his standing corn, and in the night.  Welli Call me- what you will, I-am your ne,
Set fire to his barns, or. break his cattle's legs,  phew, Sir,
These trespasses draw on suits,and suits expenses; Your sister's son..
Which I can spare, but will soon beggar him.  Sir G. Avoid my sight; thy breath's infectiousi
When. 1 have hurried him thus two or three years,   rogue!
Though he. suedformc pauperis, in spite -.  I shun thee as a leprosy, or the plague.....
Of all his thrift and:care, he'llgrow-behind-hand. Come hither, Marrall,. this is the. time to. work
Mar. The best I ever:heard::I could-adore you.  him..  [Apart to MARRALL, and exiY.
Sir G. Then, with the favour of my man of law,   Mar. I warrant you, Sir.
I will pretend some title; want will force him-..    Well. By this light, I think he's mad. - [self;
To.p.ut it to arbitrement; then, if he sell   Mar. Mad! had.you tookcompassion on yourFor half the value, he shall have ready money,    You long since had:. been mad.
And I possess the land.  W-....         Well. You have ta'en a course,
Mar. Wellborn was apt to-sell; and:needed not  Beteen you: and my venerable uncle,
These fine arts to hook:him in.              To make me so.
Sir G.. Well thought on.              [me   Mar. The more pale:.spirited you,
This varlet, Wellborn, lives too long, to upbraid  That would not.be instructed.  I swear deeply —
With:my:close cheat putupon him, Will not cold W. ell. By. what?-..  
Nor hunger kill him                             lkIar. By my religion.
Mar. I know not what to think on't.           Well. Thy religion!
I have us'd all means; and yesterday I caus'd  The devil's creed. But what would you have done X
His host, the tapster, to turn him out of doors;  AIIar. Before, like you,I had outliv'd my fortunes,
And have been since with all your friends and.A withe had serv'd my turn to hang myself.
tenants,                               I am zealous in your cause: pray you hang yourAnd, on the forfeit of your favour, charg'd them,   self;
Though a crust of mouldy bread: would keep him  And presently, as you love your credit.
from starving,.                          Well. I thank you.
Yet-they should not relieve him. This is done, Sir.   Mar. Will you, stay.till.you die in a ditch:?
Sir G. That was something, Marrall.; but thou  Or, if you dare not do the feat yourself,.must go farther,                      But that you'll put the state to charge and trouble,
And suddenly, Marrall.:                      Is there no purse. to be cut? house.to be broken?
Mar. Where and when you please, Sir.       Or market woman with eggs, that you may murder,
Sir. G., I would have thee seek him out; and,-if And so despatch the business?..thou canst,...              Well. Here's variety, 
Persuade him that'tis better steal than beg.-  I. must confess; but I'll accept of none.
Then, if I prove he hasbut robb'd a hen-roost,. Of all your gentle offers I assure.you.
Not all the world shall save him from the gallows.   Mar. If you like not hanging, drown yourself;
Do any thing to work-him to despair,...:- -      take some course.
And'tis thy masterpiece..      For your reputation.
Mar. I will do my best, Sir............. ell.'Twill not doj dear tempter,
Sir.G.. I am now on my main' work with the With all -the: rhetoric the fiend hath taught you;
Lord Lovell,                           I am as far as thou art from despair.
The gallant-minded, popular, Lord Lovell;  Nay, I have confidence, which is more than hope,
The minion; of the people's love. a I hear..  To live, and suddenly, better than ever.
He's come into the country; and my aims are.m. Mar. Ha, ha! these castles you build in:the air
To insinuate myself into his knowledge,.:  Will not persuade me to.give or lend
And then invite him to my house.            A token to you.
Mar. I have you.                             Well. I'll be more kind to thee;
This points at my young mistress... -. Come, thou shalt dine with me.
Sir G. She must part with.:.                lar. With you?'Ihat:humble title,- and-be honourable;-,.  - -  Well. Nay, more, dine gratis.
Right honourable, Marrall; my right: honourable   Mlar. Under what hedge, I pray you, or at
daughter;                                    whose cost?
If all I have, or e'er shall get, will do it.  Are they padders, or gipsies, that are yourconsorts?
I will have her well attended: there are ladies  Well. Thou art incredulous; but thou shalt dine,
3f errant knights decay'd, and brought so low,   Not alone at her house, but with a gallant lady;
That for cast clothes and meat will gladlyserveher;- With me, and with a lady.
And'tis my glory, though I come from the city,    Mar. Lady! what lady?
To have their issue, whom I have undone,.  -   With the lady of the lake, or queen of fairies?
To. kneel -to mine as bond slaves...        For I know it must be an enchanted dinner.
Mar'Tis fit:state, Sir....:                   Vell. With the Lady Allworth, knave.




SCENEIL.]          A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.                                       447.Mar. Now there's hope                      What kind of sauces best affect your palate,
Thy brain is crack'd.                         That I may use my utmost skill to please it.
Well. Mark thee with what respect             Mar. The devil's enter'd this cook; sauce fox
I am entertainr'd.                                   his palate,                    [month,
- Mar. With choice, no doubt, of dog-whips.    That, on my knowledge, for almost this twelveWhy, dost thou ever hope to pass her porter?    Durst wish but cheese-parings and brown bread
IWell.'Tis not far off, go with me; trust thine  on Sundays!  [Aside.
owneyes.                                  Well. Thai way I like them best.
Mar. Troth, in my hope, or my assurance, ra-   Fur. It shall be done, Sir.         [Exit.
ther,.[blanket,.Well. What think you of the hedge we shall
To see thee curvet and mount, like a dog, in a      dine under 2
If ever thou presume to pass her threshold,   Shall we feed gratis?         [ To MARRALL.
I will endure thy company.                      Mar. I know not what to think;
Well. Come along, then.          [Exeunt. Pray you, make me-not mad.
SCENE II.-A Hall in LADY ALLWORTH'S                        e-enter ORDER.
House.                       Order; T-his place becomes you not;
Enter ALLWORTH, ORDER, AMBLE, and         Pray you walk, Sir, to the dining room. -    - -
FURNACE.                       Well. I am well here,
Till her ladyship quits her chamber.
Allwe. Your courtesies overwhelm me; I much    Mar. Well here, sayyou?
grieve                       [comfort;'Tis a rare change i but yesterday you —thought
To part from such true friends, and yet I find  Yourself well in a barn, wrapp'd up in peaseMy attendance on my honourable lord                 straw.  Aside.
Will speedily bring me back.      [Knocking.
_Mar. rWithin.] Dar'st thou venture farther?         Enter TABITHA and ABIGAIL.'
Well. [ Within.] Yes, yes, and knock again.   Tab. 0! you're much wish'd for, Sir.
[Knocks.   Abi. Last night my lady                [ing
Order.'Tis he; disperse..               Dream'd of you; and-her first command this mornAmble. Perform it bravely.          [Exit. Was to have notice, Sir, of your arrival.
Fur. I know my cue; ne'er doubt me. [Exit.    Order. Sir, my lady.                 [Exit.
Enter MARRALL and WELLBORN.                       Enter LADY ALLWORTH.
-Order.' Most welcome;
You were long since expected.                   Lady A. I come to meet you, and languish'd
Well. Say so much                                 till I saw you..T  o my friend, I pray you.This first kiss for form: I allow a second
To my friendship.                                                                   [please
Order. For your sake, I will, Sir.  [Exit.   As a token of my friendship.         please
Marr. For his sake!      [,Aside. -Well. I am wholly yours; yet, Madam, if you
Well. Mum; this is nothing.    -     - [Asid.h  To grace this geatleman with a salute.: Mar.'-More than ever.                                 [Handing MARRALL.
I would have believ'd, though I had found it in    Mar. Salute me at his bidding!   [Aside
Well. I shall receive it.
As:a most high favour.
Allw. When I have given you reasons for my Asa most hih favour.
late harshness,   -.                     Lady A. Sir, your friends are welcome to me.
You'll pardon and excuse me; for, believe me,   Well. Run backward from a lady! and such a
Though now I part abruptly, in my service           lady 
I will deserve it. -Mar. To kiss her foot is to poor me a favour.
-Mar.- Ser~vice!!-with a vengeance!  [Aside. I am unworthy of —    [Offers to. kiss her foot.
Well. I am satisfied; farewell, Tom.         Lady A. Nay, pray you, rise;
Alp. All joy stay    - with you. fe~~i      And since you are so humble, I'll exalt you;
You shall dine with me to-day,,at mine own table.
Re-enter AMBLE.                M- Aar. Your ladyship's- table?  I am not good
Amble. You are happily encounter'd; I never To sit at your steward's board.      [enough
Presented one-so welcome, as I know     [yet   Lady A. You are too modest;
You will be to my lady.                       I will not be denied.
Mar. This is some vision;                                 Re-enter ORDER.
Or sure these men are mad to worship a- dunghill;
It cannot be a truth.                [Aside.  -Order. Dinner is ready for your ladyship.
Tell. Be still a pagan,                      Lady A. Your arm, Mr. Wellborn;
An unbelieving infidel; be so, miscreant!     Nay, keep us company.
And meditate on blankets and on dog-whips.      Mar. I never was so grac'd.       [Exeunt.
[ To MARRALL.                Re-enter FURNACE.
Re-enter FURNACE.              I  Order. So, we have play'd our parts, and are
Fur. I am glad you are come; until I know         come off well;
your pleasure,                          But if I know the mystery, why my lady
I knew not how to serve up my lady's dinner.    Consented to it, may I perish.
Mar. His pleasure! is it possible 1    [Aside.   Fur. Would I had
Well. What's thy will 2                    The roasting of his heart that cheated him,
F'ur. Marry, Sir, I have some grouse and tur- And forces the poor gentleman to these shifts.
key-chicken,                  [ask you  By fire! (for cooks are Persians; and swear by it,)
Some rails and quails; and my lady will'd me to Of: all the griping and extorting tyrants




448              A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.                                   [ACTrli.
I ever heard or read of, I never met           Lady A. I see in your looks you are sorry, and
A match to Sir Giles Overreach.                    you know me
Order. What will you take                 An easy mistress: be merry! I have forgot all.
To tell him so, fellow Furnace?             Order and Furnace, come with me; I must giw
Fur. Just as much                          Further directions.                    [you
As my throat is worth, for that would be the    Order. What you please.
price on't.                             Fur. We are ready.                [Exeunt.
To have a usurer that starves himself                SCENE III.-The Country
To grow rich, is too common:
But this Sir Giles feeds high, keeps many servants,  Enter WELLBORN and MARRALL.
Rich in his habit; vast in his expenses;       Well. I think I am in a good way.
Yet he, to admiration, still increases         Mlar. Good, Sir! the best way;
In wealth and lordships.                     The certain best way.
Order. HEe frights men out of their estates;  Well. These are casualties
And breaks through all law-nets, made to curb ill That men are subject to.
men,                            [him. Is't for your ease you keep your hat off?
As they were cobwebs. No man dare reprove   Mar. Ease, an it like your worship?
Such a spirit to dare, and power to do, were never I hope Jack Marrall shall not live so long,
Lodged so unluckily.                         To prove himself such an unmannerly beast,
Though it hail hazel-nuts, as to be cover'd
Re-enter AMBLE.                When your worship's present.
Amble. Ha, ha! I shall burst.                Well. Is not this a true rogue,
Order. Contain thyself, man.              That, out of mere hope of a future coz'nage,
Fur. Or make us partakers                 Can turn thus suddenly?'Tis rank already.
Of your sudden mirth.                                                             [Asicd.
Amble. Ha, ha! my lady has got               Mar. I know your worship's wise, and needs
Such a guest at her table: this term-driver Mar-   no counsel;
This snip of an attorney.              [rall, Yet if, in my desire to do you service,
Fur. What of him, man?                    I humbly offer my advice, (but. still
Amble. The knave feeds so slovenly.        Under correction,) I hope I shall not
Fur. Is this all?                         Incur your high displeasure.
Amble. My lady                               WeeUll. No; speak freely.
Drank to him for fashion's sake, or to please Mr.   Mar. Then, in my judgment, Sirmy simple
Wellborn.                                   judgment,                         [you
As 1 live, he rises, and takes up a dish,    (Still with your worship's favour,) I could wish
In which there were some remnants of a boil'd- A better habit, for this cannot be
And pledges her in white broth.     [capon, But much distasteful to the noble. lady
Fur. Nay,'tis like.                      That loves you. I have twenty pounds here,
The rest of his tribe.                       Which, out of my true love, I presently
Amble. And when I brought him wine,        Lay at your worship's feet;'twill serve to buy you
He leaves his chair, and, after a leg or two,  A riding suit.
Most humbly thanks my worship; my worship!    Well. But where's the horse 
All. Ha, ha, ha!                             Mar. My gelding
Order. Risen already!                     Is at your service; nay, you shall ride me,
Fur. My lady frowns.                       Before your worship shall be put to the trouble
Amble. I shall be chid.                    To walk a-foot. Alas! when you are lord
Of this lady's manor, (as I know you will be,)
Re-enter LADY ALLWORTH, WELLBORN, and   You may, with the lease of glebe land, call'd
MARRALL.                          Knave's acre,
A place I would manure, requite your vassal.
Lady A. You attended us well!               Well. I thank thy love; but must make Ao use
Let me have no more of this; I observed your       ofit.
jeering.                               What's twenty pounds?
Sirrah, I'll have you know, whom I think worthy    Mar.'Tis all that 1 can make, Sir.
To sit at my table, is not your companion.     Well. Dost thou think, though I want clothes,
[To Amble.        I could. not have'em,
Order. Nay, she'll preserve what's due to her. For one word to my lady?
[Aside.   Mar. As I know not thatLady A. You are master                       Well. Come, I'll tell thee a secret, and so leave
Of your own will. 1 know so much of manners,       thee.
As not to inquire your purposes; in a word,  I'll not give her the advantage, though she be
To me you are ever welcome, as to a house   A gallant-minded lady, after we are married,
That is your own.           [To WELLBORN. To hit me in the teeth, and say she was forc'd
Well. Mark that.                          To buy my wedding-clothes;
LIar. With reverence, Sir,                 No, I'll be furnish'd something like myself.
An it like your worship.                    And so, farewell: for thy suit, touching Knaves
WTell. Trouble yourself no further,              acre,
Dear Madam; my heart's full of zeal and service, When it is mine,'tis thine.     [Exit
However in my language I am sparing.           Mar. I thank your worship.
Come, Mr. Marrall.                           How was I cozen'd in the calculation
Mar. I attend your worship.               Of this man's fortune! my master cozen'd too,
rExeunt TWELLBORN and MARRALL. Whose pupil I am in the art of undoing men;




SCNE II.]   A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.                                           449
For that is our profession. Well, well, Mr. Well- Or rather to cross me.  [Strikes him again.
born,                       [cheated;  IAar. Will your worship kill me?
You are of a sweet nature, and fit again to be   Sir G. No, no; but drive the lying spirit out
Which, if the fates please, when you are possess'd  of you.
Of the land and lady, you sans question shall be.    MPIar. He's gone.
I'11 -uresently think of the means.            Sir G. I have done then. Now, forgetting
[Walks about, musing. Your late imaginary feast and lady,
Enter SIR GILES OVERREACH.           Know, my Lord Lovell dines with me to-morrow;
Be careful nought be wanting to receive him;
Sir G. Sirrah, order my carriage round;   And bid my daughter's women trim her up;
I'll walk to get me an appetite.'Tis but a mile,  Though they paint her, so she catch the lord,'11
And exercise will keep me from being pursy.        thank'em.
Ha! Marrall! is he conjuring?  Perhaps      There's a piece for my late blows.
The knave has wrought the prodigal to do       Mar. I must yet suffer;
Some outrage on himself, and now he feels    But there may be a time-            [Aside.
Compunction in his conscience for't; no matter,    Sir G. Do you grumble?
So it be done. Marrall! Marrall!               Mar. No, Sir.                    [Exeunt.
Aiar. Sir.
Sir G. How succeed we                                       ACT III.
In our plot on Wellborn.
Mar. Never better, Sir.                             SCENE I.-'The Country.
Sir G. Has he hang'd or drown'd himself?        Enter LORD LOVELL and ALLWORTH.
Mar. No, Sir, he lives;
Lives, once more to be made a prey to you,     Lord L. Drive the carriage down the hill,
And greater prey than ever.                        something in private
Sir G. Art thou in thy wits?              I must impart to Allworth.
If thou art, reveal this miracle, and briefly.  Allw. O, my Lord!
Mar. A lady, Sir, is fallen in love with him.   What danger, though in ne'er so horrid shapes,
Sir G. With him? what lady 1             Nay, death itself, though I should run to meet it,
lMar. The rich Lady Allworth.             Can I, and with a thankful willingness, suffer;
Sir G. Thou dolt! how dar'st thou speak this? But still the retribution will fall short
-Mar. I speak truth;                       Of your bounties shower'd upon me.
And I do so but once a year, unless            Lord L. Nay, good youth,
It be to you, Sir. I din'd with her ladyship,    Till what I purpose be put into act,
I thank his worship.                         Do not o'erprize it; since you have trusted me
Sir G. His worship!                      With your soul's nearest, nay her dearest, secret,
Mar. As I live, Sir,                       Rest confident,'tis in a cabinet lock'd
I din'd with him at the great lady's table, [him; Treachery shall never open. I have found you
Simple as I stand here, and saw when she kiss'd More zealous in your love and service to me,
And would at his request, have kiss'd me too.    Than I have been in my rewards.
Sir G. Why, thou rascal,                    Allw. Still great ones,
To tell me of these impossibilities;         Above my merit. You have been
Dine at her table! and kiss him, or thee!   More like a father to me than a master.
Impudent varlet! Have not I myself,         Pray you, pardon the comparison.
To whom great countesses' doors have oft flown   Lord L. I allow it,
open,                                 And give you assurance I'm pleas'd in't.
Ten times attempted, since her husband's death,  My carriage and demeanour to your mistress,
In vain to see her, though I came-a suitor 1  Fair Margaret, shall truly witness for me,
And yet your good solicitorship, and rogue Well- I can command my passion.
born,                                   Allw.'Tis a conquest                [Oh!
Were brought into her presence, feasted with her- Few lords can boast of when they are tempted.But that I know thee a dog that cannot blush,  Lord L. Why do you sigh? can you be doubtThis most incredible lie would call up one        ful of me?
On thy buttermilk cheeks.                   By that fair name I in the wars have purchas'd,
MAlr. Shall I not trust my eyes, Sir,     And all my actions hitherto untainted,
Or taste? I feel her good cheer in my belly.  I will not be more true to mine own honour,
Sir G. You shall feel me, if you give not over, Than to thee, Allworth.
sirrah.                                 Aliw. Were you to encounter with a single foe,.
Recover your brains again, and be no more gull'd  The victory were certain: but to stand
With a beggar's plot, assisted by the aids   The charge of two such potent enemies,
Of serving men and chambermaids, (for, beyond At once assaulting you, as wealth and beauty,
these,                                And those two seconded with power, is odds
Thou never saw'st a woman,) or I'll quit you  Too great for Hercules.
From my employments.                           Lord L. Speak your doubts and fears,
Mar. Will you credit this yet?             Since you will nourish'em, in plainer language,
On my confidence of their marriage, I offer'd That I may understand'em.
Wellborn                                Allw. WVhat's your will,
(I would give a crown now, I durst say his wor- Though I lend arms against myself, (provided
ship,)                        [Aside. They may advantage you,) must be obey'd.
I  nag, and twenty pounds.                   My much-lov'd lord, were Margaret only fair,
Sir G. Did yotr so, idiot?  [Strikes him down. You might command your passion;
Was this the way to wvork him to despair,    But, when you feel her touch, or hear her talk,
Von. I...3 L      38*




450             A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.                                   [ACT II.
Hypolitus himself would leave Diana,         When my belly's brac'd up like a drum, and'ro follow such a Venus.                           that's pure justice.           [Exit.
Lord L. Love hath made you                   Sir G. It must be so. Should the foolish gir
Poetical, Allworth.                                prove modest,
Allw. Grant all these beat off,            She may spoil all: she had it not from me,
(Which, if it be in man to do, you'll do it.)  But from her mother': I was ever forward,
Mammon, in Sir Giles Overreach, steps in,    As she' must be, and therefore I'll prepare her.
With heaps of ill-got gold, and so much -land, as  R
woulditire                                 Re-enter MARRALL, with MARGARET.
A falcon's wings, in one day, to fly over.   Alone, Margaret, and let your women wait without.
I here release your trust;                     Mar'g. Your pleasure, Sir?  [Exit MARRALL.'Tis happiness enough for me to serve you,     Sir G. Ha, this is a neat dressing!
And sometimes, with chaste eyes, to look on her. These orient pearls and diamonds well plac'd too!
Lord L. Why, shall I swear?                The gown affects me not; it should have been
AUllw. Oh, by no means, my lord            Embroider'd o'er and o'er with flowers of gold;
Lord L. Suspend                            But these rich jewels, and quaint fashion, help it.
Your judgment till the trial. How far is it  How like you your new woman, the Lady DownTo Overreach's house?                             fall'n?
Allw. At the most, some half-hour's riding;  Alarg. Well, for a companion;
You'll soon be there.                        Not as a servant.
Lord L. And you the sooner freed             Sir G. Is she humble, Meg?
From your jealous fears.                    And careful too, her ladyship forgotten.?
Allw. Oh that I durst but hope it!  [Exeunt.   Marg. I pity her fortune.
Sir G. Pity her! trample on her.'
SCENE  I —A Hall in SIR GILES OVERSCENE II-A Hall in SIR GILES OVER-   I took her up in an old tatter'd gown
REACH'S House.                (E'en starv'd for want of food) to serve thee;
Enter~ SIR CG~ILES  OVERREACH, JUSTICE GREEDY,. And if I understand she but repines
and MARRALL.                  To do thee any duty, though ne'er so servile,
I'll pack her to her knight, where I have lodg'd
Sir G. Spare for no cost, let my dressers crack  him,                            [ther.
with the weight                       Into the counter, and there let them howl togeOf curious viands.                             Marg. You know your own ways; but, for me,
Just. Gr. Store indeed's no sore, Sir.          I blush
Sir G. That proverb fits your stomach, Mr. When I command her, that was once attended
Greedy.                               With persons not inferior to myself
Just. Gr. It does indeed, Sir Giles;      In birth.
I do not liketo see a table ill spread,        Sir G. In birth! Why artthou not my daughter,
Poor, meagre, just sprinkled o'er with salads,  The bless'd child of my industry and wealth?
Slic'd beef, giblets, and pig's pettitoes.   Part' with these humble thoughts, and apt thyself
But the substantials-Oh! "Sir Giles,:the sub- To the noble state I labour'd to advance thee;
The state of a fat turkey now,    [stantials! Or, by my hopes to see thee honourable,
The decorum, the grandeur he marches in with.  I will adopt a strangerto my heir,
0, I declare, I do much honour a chine of beef!  And throw thee from my care; do not provoke me.
0, lord! I do reverence a loin of veal!      Marg. 1' will not, Sir; mould me which way
Sir G. And let no plate be'seen but what's'you please.
pure gold;
Or such whose workmanship exceeds the matter          Re-enter JUSTICE GREEDY.
That it is made of; lay my choicest linen;    Just. Gr. Sir Giles, Sir-Giles,Perfume the room; and, when we wash, the water'  Sir G. How, interrupted?
With precious powders mix, to' please my lord,  Just. Gr.'Tis matter of importance.
That he may, with envy, wish to bathe so' ever.  The cook, Sir, is self-will'd, and will not learn!Mar.'Twill be very chargeable.          From my experience. There's a fawn brought
Sir G. Avaunt! you drudge.                      in, Sir,
Now all my labour'd ends are at the stake,  And, for my life, I cannot make him roast it'
Is't a time to think of thrift? Call in my daugh-  With a Norfolk dumpling in the belly of it;
ter.                  [Exit IMIARRALL. And, Sir, we wise men-know, without the dumpAnd, master justice, since you love choice dishes,'Tis not worth threepence.      [ling
And plenty of; em-                            Sir G. Would it were whole in thy belly,
Just. Gr. As I do, indeed, Sir,           To stuffit out; cook it any way; pr'ythee, leave
Almost as much' as to give thanks for'emn-       me.
Sir G. I do confer that province, with my power   Just. Gr. Without order for the dumpling? 
Of absolute command to have abundance,         Sir G. Let it be dumpled
To your best care.                          Which way thou wilt; or, tell him I will scald
Just. Gr. I'll'punctually discharge it,  In his own caldron.                     [him
And give the best directions.                 Just. Gr. I had lost my stomach
[SIR GILES OVERREACH retires. Had I lost my dumpling.              [Exit.
Now am I,                                      Sir G. But to our business, Meg; you have
In my own conceit, a monarch; at the least         heard who dines here?
Arch-president of the boil'd, the roast, the bak'd;   AlIarg. I have. Sir.
would not change my empire for the great Mo-   Sir G.'Tis an honourable man; 
gul's.                                 A lord, Meg, and commands a regiment'fill eat often, and give thanks,          Of soldiers; and, what's rare, is one himself;




SCENE II.]    A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.                                          451.
A bold and understanding one: and to be      Though all his captains, echoes to his will,
A lord and a good leader in one volume       Stood armed by his side to justify the: wrong,
Is granted unto few, but such as rise up     And he himself in the head of his bold troop.
The kingdom's glory.                         Spite of his lordship, I will make him render
tRe-enter JUSTICE GREE)Y.          A bloody and a strict account, and force him,
By marrying-thee, to cure thy wounded honour.
Just. Gr. I'll resign my: office           I have said it.
If I be not better obey'd. -.
Sir G.'Slight, art thou frantic?:....:          Re-enter MARRALL.
Just. Gr.: Frantic!'twould- make me frantic,   M lar. Sir, the man of honour's come,.
and stark mad,-                      I Newly alighted.
Were I not a justice of peace and quorum too,  Sir G. In, without' reply;:
Which. thei-rebellious cook cares not a straw for.  And do as I command, or thou art lost.
There are a dozen of woodcocks-                                         [Exit MARGARET.
Sir G. Make thyself thirteen,-the baker's dozen. Is the loud music I gave order for
Just. Gr; For which he has found out.     Ready to receive himl
A new device for sauce, and will not dish'em  Mar.'Tis, Sir.
With toast and butter.'             Sir G. Let'em sound
Sir G. Cook, rogue.! obey him.       [self A princely welcome. [Exit M ARRALL.] Rough.
I have given the word,' pray younow remove your-   ness, awhile leave me;
To a collar of brawn, and: trouble me no farther.  For fawning now, a stranger to my nature,
Just. Gr. I will, and meditate what to eat for Must make way for me.-     [Loud music.
dinner.                        [Exit.
Sir G. And, as' I said, Meg, when this gull    Enter LORD LOVELL, ALLWORTH, and
disturb'd us.                                          MARRALL.
This honourable lord, this colonel,           Lord L.: Sir, you meet your trouble..I. would have pthy husband.                   Sir G. What' you are pleased to style so, is an
Marg. There's too much disparity                honour
Between his quality and mine,; to hope it.  Above my worth and fortunes.
Sir G. I. more than hope, and doubt not to ef-   Allw. Strange so humble.      [Aside.
feit'it.
Re-enter'JusTIcE GREEDY.
Be thou no enemy to thyself: my wealth
Shall weigh his titles down, and maku you equals.   Sir G. A justice of the peace, my lord.
Now for the means to assure him thine, observe me:      [Presents JUSTICE GREEDY to him.
Remember he's a courtier and a soldier,      Lord L. Your hand, good Sir.
And not to be trifled with; and therefore, when  Just. Gr. This is a lord; and some think this
He comes to woo you, see you do not coy it.        a favour;
This mincing modesty, hath spoil'd many a match, But I had rather have my hand in my dumpling.
By a first refusal, in vain after hop'd for.                                     [Aside.
Marg. You'll have me, Sir, preserve the dis-   Sir G. Room for my lord.
tance that                              Lord L. I miss, Sir, your fair daughter,
Confines a virgin                            To crown my welcome.
Sir G.' Virgin me no virgins!              Sir G. May it please my lord
I will have you:lose that name, or you lose me.   To taste a glass of Greek wine first; and'suddenly
I. will have you private; start nbt'I' say private:'She shall attend, my lord.
If you- are my true daughter, not a'bastard,  Lord L. You'll be obey'd Sir.
Thou wilt venture alone with one man,. though                  [Exeunt all bt SIR GILES.
he come         w.t o   m               Sir G.'Tis to my wish; as soon as come, askLike Jupiter to Semele, and come oft too *         for her!
And therefore, when he-kisses you, kiss close.    Why, Meg! Meg Overreach!
Marg. I have heard thisiE: the wanton's fashion,       Re-enter MARGARET.
W~hich I~ must never learn.       [' [Sir, H- How! tears in your eyes?:
Sir G. Learn any thing,
SirG.nd  from  any re~atnurge, to  ake  thee great; -  Ha! dry'em quickly, or I'll dig'em out.
AEend from anythe devil hitomakself   noth ge a; I'Is this a time to whimper? meet that greatness
E'en from the devil himself;-stand'not on form; That flies into thy bosom; think: what'tis
Words areno  s~ubstances.
Words Taorge n Youstainc. dis'pen'se;:For me to say my honourable daughter.
Marg. Though you can dispenstructed, or expectbNo       ut-re;but   be instiucted; or expect_-..
With'youtiri honour ii  must guard my own.  He comes.
This is not the way:to make me his wife.
My'maiden honout, yielded up so soon,         Re-enter LORD LOVELL, JUSTICE GREEDY,
Nay prostituted, cannot-but assure him,               MARRALL, and ALLWORTH.
I, that am light to him, would not hold weight    A black-brow'd girl, mv lord.
When tempted by others- so, ir judgment,      Lord L. As I live, a rare one!   [Kisses he'
When to his will I have given up  my honour,   A1lw. He's took already! I am lost,
He must and will forsake me.                   Sir G. That kiss
Sir G.;  How, forsake thee   Came twanging off; I like it; quit the room.
Do I wear this sword for fashion? or is this arm  [Exeunt ALLWORTH, MARRALL, and JUSTic1(
Shrunk up, or wither'd. Does' there live a nman     GREEDY.
Of that large list I have encounter'd with,  A little bashful, my good iord; but:you,
Can truly say I e'er gave inch of'ground,  I hope, will teach her boldness.
Not purchas'd with his blood that did oppose me?   Lord L. I am happy
Forsake the! he dares not.'In such a- scholar; but* -..,           -...  




452             A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.                                    [.cr III.
Sir G. I am past learning,                 With a love-letter or two, which [ must have
Aird therefore leave you to yourselves; remem- Deliver'd by my page, and you give way to't.
ber —    [Apart to MARGARET, and exit.   Sir G. With all my soul.-A tow'rdly gentle.
Lord L. You see, fair lady, your father is so-   man!: licitous                              Your hand, good Mr. Allworth; know, my house
To have you change the barren name of virgin,  Is ever open to you.
Into a hopeful wife.                           Allw.'Twas shut till now.         [Aside.
Marg. His haste, my lord                     Sir G. Well done, well done, my honourable
Holds no power o'er my will.                       daughter,
Lord L. But o'er your duty-                Thou'rt so already; know this gentle youth,
Marg. Which, forc'd too much, may break.   And cherish him, my honourable daughter.
Lord L. Bend rather, sweetest;               Marg. I shall, with my best care.
Think of your years.                                                       [Noise without
Marg. Too few to match with yours.           Sir G. What noise?
Lord L. I can advance you.                   Just. Gr. More stops
Marg. To a hill of sorrow;                 Before we go to dinner! O my guts!
Where every hour I may expect to fall,
But never hope firm footing. You are noble;    Enter LADY ALLWORTH and WELLBORN.
I of low descent, however rich.                Lady A. If I find welcome,
O! my good lord, I could say more, but that  You share in it; if not, I'll back again;
I dare not trust these walls.                For I come arm'd for all
Lord L. Pray you, trust my ear, then.      Can be objected.
[Whispering.   Lord L. How! the Lady Allworth!
Sir G. And thus attended!
IRe-enter SIR GILES OVERREACH, listening.    Sir G. No, I am  a dolt;
Sir G. Close at it! whispering! this is excel- The spirit of lies hath enter'd me.
lent!                                     [LORD LOVELL presents MARGARET to LADY
And, by their postures, a consent on both parts.       A.LLWORTH.
Re-enter JUSTICE GREEDY.             Sir G. Peace, patch!'Tis more than wonder, an astonishment
Just. Gr. Sir Giles! Sir Giles!           That does possess me wholly.
Sir G. The great fiend stop that clapper!   Lord L. Noble lady,
[Apart to JUSTICE GREEDY. This is a favour, to prevent my visit,
Just. Gr. It must ring out, Sir, when my belly The service of my life can never equal.
rings noon.                  [powder.   Lady A. My lord, I laid wait for you, and
The bak'd meats are run out, the roast turn'd      much hop'd
Sir G. Stop your insatiate jaws, or       You would have made my poor house your first inn
I shall powder you.                 [Apart. And, therefore, doubting that you mightforget me,
Just. Gr. Beat me to dust, I care not;     Or too long dwell here having such ample cause,
In such a cause as this, I'll die a martyr. [Apart. In this unequall'd beauty, for your stay
Sir G. Disturb my lord when he is in dis- And fearing to trust any but myself
course?                       [Apart. With the relation of my service to you;
Just. Gr. Is't a time to talk,             I borrow'd so much from my long restraint,
When we should be munching?          [Apart. And took the air in person to invite you.
Sir G. Peace, villain, peace! shall we break a Lord L. Your bounties are so great, they rob
Almost made up?  Vanish, 1 say.     [bargain       me, Madam,
[Apart, thrusts him of. Of words to give you thanks.
Lord L. Lady, I understand you;              Lady A. Good Sir Giles Overreach.
Rest most happy in your choice. Believe it,                                 [BowL to himS
I'll be a careful pilot, to direct           How dost thou, Marrall?-Lik'd you my meal so
Your yet uncertain bark to a port of safety.  You'd dine no more with me?            [ill,
Marg. So shall your honour save two lives,                        [To JUSTICE GREEDY.
and bind us                              Just. Gr. I will when you please,
Your slaves for ever.                       An it like your ladyship.
Lord L. I am in the act rewarded,            Lady A. When you please, Mr. Greedy;
Since it is good; howe'er, you must put on   If meat can do it you shall be satisfied.
An amorous carriage towards me, to -delude your And now, my lord, pray take into your knowledge
subtle father,                         This gentleman: howe'er his outside's coarse,'Till our purpose be brought to the wish'd end.                     [Presents WELLBORN.
MParg. I am bound to that.                 His inward linings are as fine and fair
Lord L. Now break we off our conference.- s any man's. Wonder not I speak at large;
Where is Sir Giles?             [Sir Giles! And howsoe'er his humour carries him
Re-enter SIR GIIES OVERREACH, JUSTICE    To be thus accoutred, or what taint soe'er
GREEDY, ALLWORTH, and MARRALL.          For his wild life have stuck upon his fame,
He may ere long with boldness rank himself
Sir G. My noble lord; and how              With some that have contemn'd him. Sir Giles
Does your lordship find her?                 If I am welcome, bid him so.     [Overreach,
Lord L. Apt, Sir Giles, and coming;          Sir G. My nephew!
And I like her the better.                   He hath been too long a stranger;'faith, you have.
rS5ir G. So do I too.             [assault, Pray let it be mended.
Lord L. Yet, should we take forts at the first         [LORD L. confers city,' WELLBORN.'Twere poor in the defendant. I must confirm her   Mar. Why, Sir, what do you mean?




8cENEI.I]    ANEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS-                                           453
This Is rogue Wellborn, monster, prodigy,    At this? It makes for me; if she prove his,
That should hang or drown himself; no man of All that is hers is mine, as I will work him.
worship,                                           Re-enter MARRALL.
Much less your nephew.      [Apart to SIR G.
Much less your nephew.    [Apart to SIR G.   Mar. Sir, the whole board is troubled at your
Sir G. Well, sirrah, we shall reckonrisig.                                         rall
For this hereafter.                  [Apart.        ising.                           ral,
oMar. thi' norfte[Apart. lotSir CG. No matter; I'll excuse it. Pr'ythee, MarThough I b e eaten dead for it.       AI Watch an occasion to invite my nephew
Though I be beaten dead for it.   rAside. To speak with me in private.
Well. Let my silence pleadMar. Who, the rogue
In my excuse, my lord, till better leisure   The lady scorn'd to look on 
Oflir itself to hear a full relation           Sir G. Sirrah! sirrah 
Sir G. Sirrah! sirrah!
Of my poor fortunes.
Lord L. I would hear and help'em.         Re-enter LORD LOVELL, MARGARET, and ALL[Bell rings.                  WORTH.
Sir G. Your dinner waits you.              My good lord, excuse my manners.
Lord L. Pray you lead; we follow.            Lord L. There needs none, Sir Giles;
Lady A. Nay, you are my guest.-Come, dear I may ere long say father, when it pleases
Mr. Wellborn.                          My dearest mistress to give warrant to it.
[Exeunt all but JUSTICE GREEDY.   Sir G. She shall seal to it, my lord, and make
Just. Gr. Dear Mr. Wellborn! so she said;        me happy.
heaven! heaven!               [nate
If my belly would give me leave, I could rumi-       LADY ALLWORTH, T4C. within.
All day on this: I have granted twenty warrants  Lady A. Nay, Mr. Wellborn.     [out him.
To have him committed, from all prisons in the   Mar. See, see, she comes, and cannot be withshire,                         [born,   Sir G. Grosser and grosser.
To Nottingham jail! and now, dear Mr. WellRe-enter WELLBORN and LADY ALLWORTH.
And my good nephew!-But I play the fool
To stand here prating4 and forget my dinner.   Lady A. Provide my coach;
I'll instantly away. My thanks, Sir Giles,
Re-enter MARRALL.               For my entertainment.
Sir G.'Tis your nobleness
Are they set, Marrall?                      To think it such.
A'lar. Long since. Pray you a word, Sir.     Lady A. I must do you a further wrong,
Just. Gr. No wording now.                  In taking away your honourable guest.
Mar. In troth, I must; my master, [with you,   Lord L. I wait on you, Madam. Farewell
Knowing you are his good friend, makes bold        good Sir Giles.
And does entreat you, more guests being come in    Lady A. Come, Mr. Wellborn,
Than he expected, especially his nephew,     I must not leave you behind, in sooth, I must not.
The table being too full, you would excuse him,    Sir G. Rob me not, Madam, of all joys at once.
And sup with him on the cold meat.           Let my nephew stay behind: he shall have my
Just. Gr. How! no dinner                         coach,
After all my care?                           And, after some small conference between us,
lMkar.'Tis but a penance for              Soon overtake your ladyship.
A meal; besides, you have broke your fast.     Lady A. Stay not so long, Sir.
Just. Gr. That was                   [sion    Lord L. This parting kiss. You shall every
But a bit to stay my stomach. A man in commis-     day hear from me,
Give place to a tatterdemalion!              By my faithful page.        [To MARGARET.
Mar. No big words, Sir;                      Allw.'Tis a service I am proud of.  [Exeunt.
Should his worship hear you-                   Sir G. Daughter, to your chamber.
Just. Gr. Lose my dumpling too,                                       [Exit MARGARET
And butter'd toasts and woodcocks?          You may wonder, nephew,
Mar. Come, have patience;                  After so long an enmity between us,
If you will dispense a little with your justiceship,   I should desire your friendship.
And sit with the servants below, you'll have    Well. So I do, Sir;
Woodcock, and butter'd toast, too.   [dumpling,'Tis strange to me.
Just. Gr. This revives me:                   Sir G. -But I'll make it no wonder;
I will gorge there sufficiently.             And, what is more, unfold my nature to you.
Mar. This is the way, Sir.      [Exeunt. We worldly men, when we see friends and kinsmen,
Re-enter SIR GILES OVERREACH, as from dinner.      men,
Past hope, sunk in their fortunes, lend no hand
Sir G. She's caught! O woman! she neglects To lift'em up, but rather set our feet'
my lord,                              Upon their heads, to press'em to the bottom;
And all her compliments apply to Wellborn.   As I must yield, with you I practis'd it:
The garments of her widowhood laid by,       But now I see you in a way to rise,
She now appears as glorious as the spring.   I can and will assist you. This rich lady
Her eyes fix'd on him; in the wine she drinks,   (And 1 am glad of't) is enamour'd of you.
He being her pledge, she sends him burning kisses,   Well. No such thing:
And sits on thorns till she be private with him.   Compassion rather, Sir.
She leaves my meat to feed upon his looks;     Sir G. Well, in a word,
And, if in our discourse he be but nam'd,    Because your stay is short, I'll have you seen
From  her a deep sigh follows.-But why No more in this base shape; nor shall she say
grieve 1                               She married you like a beggar, or in debt.




454             A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.                                   [ACTrIV
Well. He'll run into the noose, and save my Before mylord? No deference? Go to my nephew
labour.                        [Aside. See all his debts discharg'd, and help his worship
Sir G. You have a trunk of rich clothes, not far To fit on his rich suit.
hence,.lMar. I Imay fit you too.    [Aside, and exit.
In pawn: I will redeem'em; -and, that noclamour   Lord L. I have writ this morning
May taint your credit for your debts,        A few lines to my mistress, your fair daughter.
You shall have a thousand pounds to cut'em off  Sir G.'Twill fire her, for she's wholly your's
And go a freeman to the wealthy lady.   [else-     already.                         [you
HWell. This done, Sir, out of love, and no ends Sweet Mr. Allworth, take my ring;'twill carry
Sir G. As it is, nephew.                   To her presence, I dare warrant you; and there
Well. Binds me still your servant.               plead
Sir G. No compliments; you are staid for: ere For my good lord, if you shall find occasion.
you've supp'd,                         That done, pray ride to Nottingham; get a license,
You shall hear from me. My coach, knaves, for Still by this token. I'll have it despatch'd,
my nephew:                            And suddenly, my lord: that I may say
To-morrow I will visit you.                  My honourable, nay, right honourable daughter.
Well. Here's an uncle                      Just. Gr. Take my advice, young gentleman;
In a man's extremes! how much they do belie you   get your breakfast,
That say you are hard-hearted!'Tis unwholesome to ride.fasting. I'll eat with you;
Sir G. My deeds, nephew,                   And that abundantly.
Shall speak my love; what men report, I weigh    Sir G. Some fury's in that gut:
not.                        [Exeunt.  Hungry again? Did you not devour, this morning,
A shield of brawn, and a barrel.of Colchester
ACT IV.                           oysters?
XC:nnLADY ALLWORTR'5   AJust. Gr. Why that was, Sir, only to scour my
SCEN7E 1.-A  Rooms in     L ADY AL'A kind of preparative.:  [stomach,
House.                      Lord L. Haste your return.
LORD LOVELL and ALLWORTH discovered.        Atlw. I will not fail, my lord.
Just. Gr. Nor I, to line
Lord L.'Tis well, I now discharge you     My Christmascoffer.
From further service. Mind your own affairs.     [Eeunt JUSTIC  GREEDY and ALLWORTH
I hope they will prove successful.             Sir G. To my wish, we're private.
Allw. What is bless'ld                     I come not to make offer with my daughter
With yourgood wish, my lord, cannot but prosper. A certain portion; that were poor and trivial:
Let after-times report, and to your honour,  In one word,  pronounce all that is mine
How much I stand engag'd; for I want language  In lands or leases, ready coin or goods, 
In lands or leases, ready coin or goods,   [have
To speak my debt: yet, if a tear or two      With her, my lord, comes to you; nor shall you
Of joy, for your much goodness, can supply   One motive to induce you to believe
My tongue's defects, I could-                I live too long; since every year I'll add
TLord L.  Nay do not melt; mSomething unto the heap, which shall be yours too.
This ceremonial of thanks to me's superfluous.  Lord L. You are a right kind father.
Sir G. [ Within.] Is my lord stirring?      Sir G. You shall have reason
Lord L.'Tis he! Oh, here's your letter! Let To think me such. How do you like this seat
him in.                                Of Lady Allworth.
Enter SIR GILEs OVERREACH, JUSTICE GREEDY, It is well wooded, and well water'd; the acres
an~d iMARRALL.                Fertile and rich; would it not serve for change
To entertain your friends in a summer's progress?
Sir G. A good day to my lord.              What thinks my noble lord?
Lord L. You are an early riser,              Lord L.'Tis a wholesome air,
Sir Giles!                                  And a well-built pile; and she that's mistress of it
Sir G. And reason, to attend your lordship!   Worthy the large revenue.
Lord L. And you too, Mr. Greedy, up so soon?   Sir G. She the mistress?
Just. Gr. In troth, my lord, after the sun is up  It may be so, for a time: but let my lord
I cannot sleep; for I have a foolish stomach  Say only that he but like it, and would have it,
That croaks for breakfast. With your lordship's I say, ere long,'tis his.
I have a serious question todemand  [favour,   Lord L. Impossible.                  [me,
Of my worthy friend, Sir Giles.                Sir G. You do conclude too fast, not knowing
Lord L.:Pray you, use your pleasure.      Nor the engines that I work by.'Tis not alone
Just. Gr. How far, Sir Giles, and pray you  The Lady Allworth's lands (for, thosemonce Wellanswer me                                    born's,
Upon your credit, hold you it to be    [worth's? As, by her dotage on him, I know they will be)
From your manor-house to this of my Lady All- Shall soon be mine; but point out any man's
Sir G. Why, some four miles.               In all the shire, and say they lie convenient
Just. Gr. How! four miles, good Sir Giles?   And useful for your lordship, and once more
Upon your reputation, think better;          I say aloud, they are yours.
For four miles riding                          Lord L. I dare not own
Could not have rais'd so huge an appetite    What's by unjust and cruel means extorted:
As I feel gnawing on me.                     My fame and credit are more dear to me,
Mar. Whether you ride                      Than to expose'em to be censur'd by
Or go a-foot, you are that way still provided,  The public voice.
An it please your worship.                     Sir G. You run, my lord, no hazard;
Sir G. How now. sirrah! prating            Your reputation shall still stand as fair




SCENE rI.]   A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.                                          455
In all good men's opinions as now;          IOn others' prvacies; yet against my will,
For though I do contemn report myself,      |NWalking, for health's sake, in the gallery, I was
As a mere sound, I still will be so tender         made
Of what concerns you in all points of honour,    (So loud and vehement he was) partaker
That the white integrity of your fame        Of his tempting offers. But,
Shall ne'er be sullied with one taint or spot.  My good lord, if I may use my freedom,
All my ambition is to have my daughter       As to an honour'd friendRight honourable; which my lord can make her;    Lord L. You lessen else
Anid might I live to dance upon my knee      Your favour to me.
A young Lord Lovell, born by her unto you,     Lady A. I dare then say thus:
I write nil ultra to my proudest hopes.      However common men
As for possessions and annual rents,         Make sordid wealth the object and sole end
Equivalent to maintain you in the port       Of their industrious aims,'twill not agree
Your noble birth and present state require,  With those of noble blood, of fame and honour.
I do remove that burden from your shoulders,   Lord L. Madam,'tis confessed;
And take it on mine own; for, though I ruin  But what infer you from it?
The country to supply your riotous waste, [you.   Lady A. This, my lord: I allow
The scourge of prodigals, want, shall never find  The heir of Sir Giles Overreach, Margaret,
Lord L. Are you not mov'd with the impreca- A maid well qualified, and the richest match
tions                                  Our northern part can boast of; yet she cannot,
And curses of whole families, made wretched  With all that she brings with her, stop their
By these practices?                               mouths,
Sir G. Yes, as rocks are.                  That never will forget who was her father;When foamy billows split themselves against  You may conceive the rest.
Their flinty ribs; or, as the moon is mov'd,   Lord L. I do, sweet Madam;
When wolves, with hunger pin'd, howl at her And long since have consider'd it.
brightness.                            And'tis my resolution ne'er to wed
Nay, when my ears are pierc'd with widows' cries, With the rich Margaret, Overreach's daughter.
And  undone orphans wash with tears my   Lady A. I am glad to hear this-          [Aside.
threshold,                            Why then, my lord, pretend you marriage to her.
I only think what'tis to have my daughter   Dissimulation but, ties false knots
Right honourable; and'tis a powerful charm,    On that straight line, by which you hitherto
Makes me insensible of remorse or pity       Have measur'd all your actions.
Or the least sting of conscience.              Lord L. I make answer,
Lord L. I admire                           And aptly, with a question. Wherefore have you,
The toughness of your nature.                That since your husband's death have liv'd a strict
Sir G.'Tis fobr you,.,                   And chaste nun's life, on the sudden given yourMy lord, and for my daughter, I am marble:         self                            [dam,
My haste commands me hence: in one word, To visits and entertainments?  Think you, MaIs it a match, my lord?          [therefore,'Tis not grown public conference? or the favours
Lord L. I hope that is past doubt, now.    Which you too prodigally have thrown on WellSir G. Then rest secure; not the hate of all Incur not censure                   [born,
mankind here,                           Lady A. I am innocent here, and, on my life, I
Nor fear of what can fall on me hereafter,   My ends are good.                    [swear
Shall make me study aught but your advancement   Lord L. On my soul, so are mine
One story higher. An earl! if gold can do it.    To Margaret; but leave both to the event:
Dispute not my religion, nor my faith,      And since this friendly privacy doth serve
Though I am borne thus headlong by my will;   But as an offer'd means unto ourselves
You may make choice of what belief you please,  To search each other further, you have shown
To me they are equal; so, my lord, goodmorrow. Your care of me, I my respect to you;
[Exit. Deny me not, I dare not yet say more,
Lord L. He's gone; I wonder how the earth  An afternoon's discourse.             [suit,
can bear                                Lady L. Affected modesty might deny your
Such a monster! I, that have liv'd a soldier,  But such your-honour, 1 accept it, lord.
And stood the enemy's violent charge undaunted, My tongue unworthy can't belie my heart.
To hear this horrid beast, I'm bath'd all over  I shall attend your lordship.
In a cold sweat; yet, like a mountain, he     Lord L. My heart thanks you.    [Exeunt.
Is no more shaken, than Olympus is,
When angry Boreas loads his lofty head                         House.
With sudden drifts of snow.
Enter TAPWELL and FeT.H.
Enter LADY ALLWORTH.
Tap. Undone, undone! this was your counsel,
Lady A. Save you, my lord                        Froth.                           [rail
Disturb I not your privacy?                   Froth. Mine! I defy thee: did not Master MarLord L. No, good Madam                     (He has marr'd all, I am sure) strictly command us,
For your own sake I am glad you came no sooner, On pain of Sir Giles Overreach's displeasure,
Since this bold, bad man, Sir Giles Overreach,   To turn the gentleman out of doors:
IMade such a plain discovery of himself,       Tap.'Tis true;
And read this morning such-devilish matins,    But now he's his uncle's darling, and hlas got
That I should thinkl it sin, next to his,    Master Justice Greedy (since he fill'd his belly,
But to repeat it.                            At his commandment, to do any thing,
Lady A. I never press'd, my lord,          Wo, wo, to us!




466             A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD) DEBTS.                                  [ACTIV.
Froth. He may prove merciful.              You are rather to do me justice; lend me your ear,
Tap. Troth, we do not deserve it at his hands. Forget his turkeys, and call in his license.
Froth. Then he knew all the passages of our And every season I will send you venison
house,                                 To feast a mayor and corporation.
As the receiving of stolen goods.              Just. Gr. I am changed on the sudden
When he was rogue Wellborn, no man would In my opinion —Mum!
believe him;                          I fry like a burn'd marrowbone. [Aside.]  Come
And then his information could not hurt us:        nearer, rascal;
But now he is right worshipful again,        And now I view him better, did you e'er see
Who dares but doubt his testimony?          One look so like an arch knave? his very counte.
Tap. Undone! undone! methinks                  nance,                           [him,
I see thee, Froth, already in a cart,        Should an understanding judge but look upon
And my hand hissing, (if I'scape the halter,)  Would hang him though he were innocent.
With the letter R printed upon it.             Tap. Froth. Worshipful Sir!
Froth. Would that were the worst!            Just. Gr. No; though the great Turk came
That were but nine days' wonder: as for credit,   instead of turkeys,
We have none to lose; but we shall lose the money To beg my favour, I am inexorable.
He owes us, and his custom; there's the plague Thou hast anill name; I here do damn thy license,
on't.                         [drum, Forbidding thee ever to tap or draw;
Tap. He has summon'd all his creditors by the For instantly will I in mine own person,
And they swarm about him like so many soldiers Command the constable to pull down thy sign.
On the pay-day; and has found out such a new    Froth. No mercy!
To pay his old debts, as,'tis very likely,   [way   Just. Gr. Vanish!
Hie shall be chronicled for it.             If I show any, may my promis'd venison choke me.
Froth. But you are sure his worship          Tap. Unthankful knaves are ever so rewarded.
Comes this way to my lady's?                              [Exeunt TAPWELL and FROTH.
[Cry of brave WELLBORN!   WFell. Speak; what are you?
Tap. Hark! I hear him.                      lst Cred. A decayed vintner, Sir,
Froth. Be ready with your petition and pre- That might have thriv'd, but that your worship
To his good grace.                   [sent it      broke me
[Drums within, cry of brave WELLBORN. With trusting you with muscadine and eggs,
vEnter WELLBORN, in a rich habit, G;REEDY, And five-pound suppers, withyourafter-drinkings,
MVARRALL, CREDITORS, e fc. TAPWELL,kneel- When you lodg'd upon the Bankside.
ing, delivers in his bill.                        I remember.
1st Cred. I have not been hasty, nor e'er laid
WTell. How's this! petition'd too?       And therefore, Sir —          [to arrest you;
But note what miracles the payment of          Well. Thou art an honest fellow;
A little trash, and a rich suit of clothes,  I'll set thee up again; see his bill paid.
Can work upon these rascals. I shall be,                                  [ To MARRALL
I think, prince Wellborn.                    What are you?
Ml/ar. When your worship's married,         2d Cred. A tailor once, but now mere botcher.
You may be. [Aside.] I know what I hope to I gave you credit for a new suit of clothes,
see you.                              Which was all my stock; but, you failing in pay.
Well. Then look thou for advancement.            ment,.
Mar. To be known                           I was remov'd from the shop-board, and confin'd
Your worship's bailiff, is the mark I shoot at.  Under a stall.
JVell. And thou shalt hit it.                Well. See him paid; and botch no more.
Mar. Pray you, Sir, despatch                2d Cred. I ask no interest, Sir.
These needy followers, and for my admittance   Well. Such tailors need not.
[TAPWELL and FRoTHsflatter and bribe ITftheir bills are paid in one and twenty years,
JUSTICE GREEDY.                T hey are seldom losers- See these men discharg'd;
(Provided you'll defend me from Sir Giles,  And, since old debts are clear'd by a new way,
Whose service I am weary of,) I'll say something A little bounty will not misbecome me;
You shall give thanks for.                  There's something for you all,
Well. Fear him not.                                              [ Throws them a purse.
Just. Gr. Who, Tapwell?   do remember thy And I am able to spare it.
wife brought me,                        All the Cred. Brave Mr. Wellborn!
Last new year's tide, a couple of fat turkeys.                      [Exeunt CREDITORS
Tap. And shall do every Christmas, let your   Well. Pray you, on before;
But stand my friend now.           [worship I'll attend you at dinner..Just. Gr. How! with Mr. Wellborn?         Just. Gr. For heaven's sake, don't stay long;
I can do any thing with him, on such terms-    It is almost ready.
See you this honest couple? they are good souls  [E eunt all but WELLBORN and MARRALL.
As ever drew out spigot; have they not         Well. Now, Mr. Marrall, what's the weighty
A pair of honest faces?                    You promis'd to impart?              [secret;Fell. I o'erheard you,                     MIar. Sir, time nor place
And the bribe he promis'd; you are cozen'd in Allow me to relate each circumstance:'em;                                  This only in a word; I know Sir Giles
For, of all the scum that grew rich by my riots,   Will come upon you for security
This for a most unthankful knave, and this   For his thousand pounds; which you must not
For a base woman, have the worst deserv'd;         consent to.
And therefore speak not for them. By your place, As he grows in heat, (as I am sure he will,)




SCENEII.L]    A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.                                           457
Be you but rough, and say he's in your debt  He does solicit me, I shall gladly hear him;
Ten times the sum, upon sale of your land:    But in this peremptory, nay, commanding way,
I had a hand in't (I speak it to my shame)    To fix a time and place without my knowledge;
When you were cozen'd of it.                 A priest, to tie the knot can ne'er be undone
Well. That's forgiven.               [duce'Till death unloose it; is a confidence
Ilar. I shall deserve it then; urge him to pro- In his lordship that will deceive him.
The deed in which you pass'd it over to him,    Alwo. I hope better, good lady.
Which I know he'll have ready to deliver        ]earg. Hope, Sir, what you please; for me,
To the Lord Lovell. I'll instruct you further,   I must take a safe and secure course. I have
As I wait on your worship; if I play not my part A father, and without his full consent,
To your full content, and your uncle's much vex- Though all the lords i' the land kneel'd for my
Hang up Jack Marrall.                 [ation, I can grant nothing.                 [favour,
Well. I rely upon thee.          [Exeunt.   Sir G. I like this obedience.
But whatsoever my lord writes must and shall be
SCENE III.-A Room in SIR GILES OVER-  Accepted and embrac'd. [Aside.]-Sweet Mr.
REACH'S House.                       Allworth,
You show yourself a true and faithful servant
WORTH  ad MARGARET (ith a Letter in  To your good lord; he has a jewel of you.
her hand) enter.               How! frowning, Meg? are these looks to receive
Allw. Whether to yield the first praise to my A messenger from my lord? What's this? give
lord's                          [ness,        me it.                     [scriptions.
Unequall'd temperance, or your constant sweet-   Marg. A. piece of arrogant paper, like th' inI yet rest doubtful.                                    SIR GILES reads the letter.
_Marg. Give it to Lord Lovell;
For what in him was bounty, in me is duty.      Fair Mistress,from your servant learn, alljov y
I make but payment of a debt, to which          That we can hope for, Zf deferr'd, prove toys;
Mly vows, in that high office registerd,        Therefore this instant, and in private, mert
Are faithful witnesses.                         A husband, that will gladly at yourfeet
Allu,.'Tis true, my dearest;                Lay down his honours, tend'cring them to e. l.
Yet when I call to mind how many fair ones      With all content, thechuich being paid her due.
Make wilful shipwreck of their faiths and oaths  Is this the arrogant piece of paper? fool!
To God and man, to fill the arms of greatness;   Will you still be one? In the name of madness,
And you, with matchless virtue, thus to hold out    what
Against the stern authority of a father,     Could his good honour write more to content you?
And spurn at honour when it comes to court you; Is there aught else to be wish'd after these two
I am so tender of your good, that I can hardly  That are already offer'd?  Marriage first,
Wish myself that right you are pleas'd to do me.  And lawful pleasure after: what wouldyou more.
l/earg. To me what's title, when content is   Mlarg. Why, Sir, I would be married like your
Or wealth, when the heart pines,    [wanting?       daughter,
In being dispossess'd of what it longs for?  Not hurriedaway i' the night, I know not whither,
Or the smooth brow                           Without all ceremony; no friends invited,
Of a pleas'd sire, that slaves me to his will?  To honour the solemnity.
And, so his vain ambition may be feasted       Allw. An't please your honour,
By my obedience, and he see me great,        (For so before to-morrow I must style you,)
Leaves to my soul nor faculties nor power    My lord desires this privacy in respect
To make her own election.                    His honourable kinsmen are far off,
Allw. But the dangers                      And his desires to have it done brook not
That follow the repulse.                     So long delay as to expect their coming;
1arg. To me they are nothing:'             And yet he stands resolv'd, with all due pomp,
Let Allworth love, I cannot be unhappy.      To have his marriage at court celebrated,
Suppose the worst, that in his rage he kill me,    When he has brought your honour up to London.
A tear or two by you dropp'd on my hearse,     Sir G. He tells you true,'tis the fashion, on my
In sorrow for my fate, will call back life          knowledge;
So far as but to say, that I die yours;      Yet the good lord, to please your peevishness,
I then shall rest in peace.                  Must put it off, forsooth.
Allw. Heaven avert                           Marg. I could be contented
Such trials of your true affection to me!   Were you but by me to do a father's part,
Nor will it unto you, that are all mercy,    And give me in the church.
Show so much rigour. But since we must run      Sir G. So my lord have you,
Such desperate hazards, let us do our best   What do I care who gives you? since my lord
To steer between'em.                        Does purpose to be private, I'll not cross him.
Marg. Lord Lovell is your friend;          I know not, Mr. Allworth, how my lord
And, though but a young actor, second me     May be provided, and therefore there's a purse
In doing to the life what he has plotted.    Of gold;'twill serve this night's expense; to-morrow
Enter SIn GILES OVERREACH.           I'll furnish him with any sums. In the meantnie,
The end may yet prove happy. Now, my All- Use my ring to my chaplain; [Offers it.] he is
worth.           [Apart to ALLWORTH.         benefc'd                           rdo;
Allw. To your letter, and put on a seeming  At my manor of Gotham, and call'd parson Well'
anger.                         [Apart.'Tis no matter for a license, I'll bear him out in't.
Marg. I'll pay my lord all debts due to his title;   Marg. With your favour, Sir, what warranit is
JAnd when with terms not taking from his honour     your ring.
VoL. I....3M       39




458              A NEW WAY TO PAY OL-D DEBTS.                                   ACTV
He may suppose I got that twenty ways,         Lady A. I were blind to my own good
Without your knowledge? and then to be refus'd, Should:I refuse it; yet, my lord, receive me
Were such a stain upon me: if you please, Sir,   As such a one, the study of whose whole life
Your presence would do better.               Shall know no other object but,to please you.
Sir G. Still perverse?                      Lord L. If I return not, with all tenderness,
I say again, I will not cross my lord;       Equal respect to you, may 1 die wretched!
Yet I'll prevent you too-Paper and ink there.  Lady -A.- There needs no protestation, my lord,
Allw. Sir, it's ready here.                To her that cannot doubt.
Sir G. 1 thank you; I can write then to my              EnterWELLBORN.
chaplain.                    [ Writes.
Allw. Sir Giles, you may, if you please, leave You're welcome, Sir:
out the name of my lord,              Now you look like yourself.
In respect he would be private, and only write,  Well. And will continue
Marry her to this gentleman.                 Such in my free acknowledgment, that I ani
Sir G. Well advis'd;                      Your creature, Madam, and will never hold'Tis done; away-[Gives ALLWORTH the paper.] My life mine own, when you please to demand it.
my blessing, girl? thou hast it.       Lord L. It is a thankfulness that well becomes
[MARGARET kTneels.       you.
Nays no reply —Begone, good Mr. Allworth,      Lady A. For me, I am happy
This shall be the best night's work you ever made. That my endeavours prosper'd. Saw you of late
Allw. I hope so, Sir.                      Sir Giles, your uncle?
[Exeunt ALLWORTH and MARGARET.   Well. I heard of him, Madam,
Sir G. Now all's cock-sure.               By his minister, Marrall: he's grown into strange
Methinks, I hear already knights and ladies        passions
Say, Sir Giles Overreach, how is it with     About his daughter. This last night he look'd for
Your honourable daughter?                   Your lordship at his house: but, missing you,
My ends, my ends, are compass'd!-Then for And Margaret not appearing, his wise head
Wellborn                      [dow- Is much perplex'd and troubled.
And the lands? were he once married to the wi-   Lord L. I hope my project took.
I have him here —I can scarce contain myself,  Lady A. I strongly hope it.
I am so full of joy; nay, joy all over.  [Exit.   Sir G. [ Without.] Ha! find her, booby! thou
huge lump of nothing!
ACT V.                     I'll bore thine eyes out else.
SCENE 1.-A Room in LADY ALLWORTH'S           Well. May it please your lordship,
House.                    For some ends of mine own, but to withdraw
A little out of sight, though not of hearing,
Enter LORD LOVELL and LADY ALLWORTH.  You may perhaps have sport.
Lady A. By this, you know how strong the   Lord L. You shall direct me.   [Steps aside.
motives were
hat did, my lord, induce me to dispense  SIR GILES OVERREACH, with distracted looks,
that did, my lord, induce me to dispense             enters, driving in MARRALL.
A. little with my gravity, to advance
rhe plots and projects of the down-trod Wellborn.   Sir G. Idiot! booby!
Lord L. What you intended, Madam,            Mar. Sir, for what cause
For the poor gentleman, hath found good success; Do you use me thus?
For, as I understand, his debts are paid,      Sir G. Cause,; slave? why I am angry,
And he once more furnish'd for fair employment. And thou a subject only fit for beating;
But all the arts that I have us'd to raise   And so to cool my choler. Look to the writing;
The fortunes of your joy and mine, young All- Let but the seal be broke upon the box
worth,                                That has slept in my cabinet these three years,
Etand yet in supposition, though 1 hope well.   I'll rack thy soul for't.
For the young lovers are in wit more pregnant  Mar. I may yet cry quittance,
Than their years can promise; and for their desires, Though now I suffer, and dare not resist.
On my knowledge, they are equal.                                                  [Aside.
Lady A. Though my wishes                     Sir G. Lady, by your leave, did you see my
Are with yours, my lord, yet give me leave to fear  daughter, Lady               [house?
The building, though well-grounded. To deceive And the lord, her husband? Are they in your
Sir Giles (that's both a lion and a fox     If they are, discover, that I may bid'em joy;
In his proceedings) were a work beyond      And, as an entrance to her place of honour,
The strongest undertakers; not the trial    See your ladyship on her left hand, and make
Of two weak innocents.                             court'sies
Lord L. Despair not, Madam;                When she nods on you; which you must receive
Hard things are compass'd oft by easy means.    As a special favour.
The cunning statesman, that believes he fathoms   Lady A. When I know, Sir Giles,
The counsels of all kingdoms on the earth,   Her state requires such ceremony, I shall pay it;
Is by simplicity oft overreach'd.            But in the mean time
Lady A. May he be so.                      I give you to understand, I neither know
The young ones have my warmest wishes.       Nor care where her honour is.
Lord L. 0, gentle lady, prove as kind to me;    Sir G. When you once see her
Now grant my honest suit.                    Supported, and led by the lord her husband,
And if you may be won to make me happy,      You'll be taught better.-Nephew!'
But join your hand to mine, and that shall be  Well. Well?
A solemn contract.                             Sir G. No more?




SR1nNIL]    A ~NEW WAY TO PAY OLD: DEBTS.                                          459
Well.'Tls all I owe you.                    Sir G. I in thy debt 2 oh, impudence! did I not
Sir G. Have v6ur redeem'd rags                   purchase
Made you thus insolent?                     The land left by thy father? that rich land
Well, Insolent to you           [In scorn. That had continued in Wellborn's name
Why, what are you, Sir, unless in years more  Twenty descents; which, like a riotous fool,
than myself?                           Thou didst make sale of 
Sir G. His fortune swells him;'Tis rank; he's married.            [Aside.        Two SEERVANTs enter with a box.
Lady A. This is excellent.         [Aside.
Sir G. Sir, in calm language (though I seldom  0, you're come at last. Is not here enclos'd
use it)                                The deed that does confirm it mine 2
i am familiar with the cause that makes you    Mar. Now, now!                    [Aside.
Bear up thus bravely; there's a certain buzz,  WMell. I do acknowledge none; I ne'er pass'd
Of a stol'n marriage; do you hear? of a stol'n  Such land: I grant, for a year or two,  [o'er
marriage;                      [zen'd. You had it in trust; which, if you do discharge,
In which,'tis said, there's somebody hath been co- Surrendering the possession, you shall ease
I name no parties.                           Yourself and me of chargeable suits in law;
[LA.DY  ArLLWORTH turns away. Which, if you prove not honest (as I doubt it)
Well. Well, Sir, and what follows?         Must of necessity follow.
Sir- G. Marry, this: since you are peremptory,   Lady A. In my judgment,
remember,                              He does advise you well.
Upon mere hope of your great match, I lent you:Sir G. Good, good! conspire
A thousand pounds; put me in good security,   *With your new husband, lady; second him
And suddenly, by mortgage or by statute,     In his dishonest practices; but, when
Of some of your new possessions, or I'll have you] This manor is extended to my use,
Dragg'd in your lavender robes to the  gaol: you You'll speak in humbler key, and sue for favour.
know me,                                 Lady A. Never-; do not hope it.
And therefore do not trifle..Wetll. Let despair first seize me.
Well. Can you be                             Sir G. Yet, to shut up thy mouth, and make
So cruel to your nephew, " now he's in             thee give
The way to rise 2" Was this the courtesy     Thyself the lie, the loud lie, I draw out
You did me " in pure love and no ends else?":   The precious evidence; if thou canst, forswear
Sir G. End me no ends; engage the whole  Thy hand and seal, and make a forfeit of 
estate,                                        [ Opens the box, and takes out the deed.
And force your spouse to sign it  you shall have  Thy ears to the pillory.-See, here's that will
Three or four thousand more to roar and swagger, My interest clear-Ha!            [make
And revel in taverns.                          Lady A. A fair skin of parchment!
Well. And beg after.                         Well. Indented, I confess, and labels too;
Mean you not so?                            But neitherwax:nor words. How! thunderstruck.
Sir G. My thoughts are mine, and free.     Is this your precious evidence; is this that " makes
Shall I have security?                       Your interest clear?"
Well. No indeed, you shall not;              Sir G. I am o'erwhelm'd with wonder!
Nor bond, nor bill, nor bare acknowledgment.    What prodigy is this? what subtle devil
Your great looks fright not me.              Hath raz'd out the inscription 2 the wax
Sir G. But my deeds shall                  Turn'd into dust-the rest of my deeds whole
[They both draw. As when they were deliver'd; and this only
Lady A. Help! murder! murder!             Made nothing!-Do you deal with witches, rascal?
AMBLE, ORDER, and FURNACE, enter, zwith    There is a statute for you, which will bring
drawn swords.                Your neck in a hempen circle; yes, there is.And now'tis better thought; for, cheater, know
Sir G. Out-braved!                        This juggling shall not save you.
Well. Let him come on,                       Well. To save thee
With all his wrongs and injuries about him,  Would beggar the stock of mercy.
Arm'd with his cut-throat practices to guard him;   Sir G. Marrall!
The right that I bring with me will defend me,  Mar. Sir.
And punish his extortion.                      Sir G. Though the witnesses are dead,
Sir G. That I had thee                                                    [Flatters him.
But single in the field!                    Your testimonyLady A. You may;* but make not             Help with an oath or two; and for thy master,
My house your quarrelling scene.             Thy liberal master, my good honest servant
Sir G. Wer't in a church,                  I know you will swear any thing to dash
By heaven and hell I'll do't!               This cunning slight:;the deed being drawn too
Mar. Now put him to                        By thee, my careful Marrall, and deliver'd
The showing of the deed.    [ To WELLBORN. When you were present, will make good my title.
Well. This rage is vain, Sir;              Wilt thou not swear this?
For fighting, fear not, you shall have your hands   Mar. I! no, I assure you.Upon the least incitement; and whereas-   [full I have a conscience, not sear'd up like yours:
You charge me with a debt of a thousand pounds, I-know no deeds.
If there be law, (howe'er you have no conscience)   Sir G. Wilt thou betray me?
Either restore my land, or I'll recover         lIar. Keep him
A debt that's truly due to me from you,  -  From using his hands, I'llause my tongue
In value ten times more than what you challenge. To his no little torment.




460             A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.                                     [ACrv.
Sir G. Mine own varlet                       Sir G. Devil! are they married?
Rebel against me?                              Welldo. Do a father's part, and say, heaven
Mar. Yes, and uncase you too.                    give'em joy.
The idiot; the patch; the slave; the booby;    Sir G. Confusion and ruin! speak, and speak
The property, fit only to be beaten                quickly,
For your morning exercise; your foot-ball, or  Or thou art dead.         [Seizes WELLDO.
Th' unprofitable lump of flesh; your drudge; —  Welldo. They are married.
Can now anatomize you, and lay open            Sir G. Thou hadst better
All your black plots, level with the earth   Have made a contract with the king of fiends
Your hill of pride, and shake,               Than these. —My brain turns!
Nay pulverize, the walls you think defend you.  Welldo. Why this rage to me?
Lady A. How he foams at the mouth with rage! Is not this your letter, Sir? and these the wordsSir G. 0 that I had thee in my gripe, [ would  " Marry her to this gentleman?"
Joint after joint!                [tear thee    Sir G. It cannot;
Mar. I know you are a tearer.              Nor will I e'er believe it:'sdeath! I will not.
But I'll have first your fangs par'd off, and then   That I, that in all passages I touch'd
Come nearer to you; when I have discover'd,  At worldly profit have not left print
And made it good before the judge, what ways   Where I have trod, for the most curious search
And devilish practices you us'd to cozen with.    To trace my footsteps, should be gull'd by children!
Sir G. But that I will live, rogue, to torture  Baffled and fool'd, and all my hopes and labours
thee,                                  Defeated and made void.
And make thee wish, and kneel in vain, to die;    WTell. As it appears,
These swords that keep thee from me should fix  You are so, my grave uncle.
here,                                    Sir G. Village nurses
Although they made my body but one wound,    Revenge their wrongs with curses: I'll not waste
But I would reach thee. —                    A syllable; but thus I take the life
I play the fool, and make my anger but ridiculous. Which, wretch! I gave to thee.
There will be a time and place, there will be,                   [Offers to kill MARGARET.
When you shall feel what I dare do.  [cowards!   Lord L. Hold, for your own sake!
Well. I think so:                          Though charity to your daughter hath quite left
You dare do any ill, yet want true valour          you.
To be honest and repent.                     Will you do an act, though in your hopes lost here,
Sir G. They are words I know not,          Can leave no hope for peace or rest hereafter?
Nor e'er will learn. Patience, the beggar's virtue,   Sir G. Lord! thus I spit at thee,
Shall find no harbour here.                  And at thy counsel; and again desire thee,
Lady A. Whom have we here?                As thou art a soldier, if thy valour
Sir G. My chaplain comes. —                Dare show itself where multitude and example
Lead not the way, let's quit the house, and change
PARSON WEL.LDO enters, with a letter in his   Six words in private.
hand, and LOVELL behind.              Lord L. I am ready.
Welcome, most welcome:                         Well. You'll grow like him,
There's comfort in thy looks; is the deed done?  Should you answer his vain challenge.
Is my daughter married? say but so, my chaplain,   Sir G. Are you pale?
And I am tame.                               Borrow his help, though Hercules call it odds,
Welldo. Married. yes, 1 assure you.       I'll stand against both, as I am hemm'd in thus.
Sir G. Then vanish all sad thoughts!      Say, they were a squadron          [mounted
My doubts and fears are in the titles drown'd  Of pikes, lin'd through with shot, when I am
Of my honourable, my right honourable daughter. Upon my injuries, shall I fear to charge'em?
Mar. What think you, Sir; was it not wisely  No, I'll through the battalia, and that routed,
To turn his wicked arts upon himself?   [done I'll fall to execution.
[ To WELLBORN.                    [Attempts to draw his sword.
Sir G. Instantly be here!                  Ha! I am feeble:
[ Whispering to WELLDO. Some undone widow sits upon my arm,
To my wish, to my wish. Now you that plot And takes away the use of't! and my sword,
against me,                      [me; Glu'd to my scabbard with wrong'd orphans' tears,
And hop'd to trip my heels up; that contemn'd Will not be drawn.
Think on't, and tremble. [Loud music.] They                  [Falls into his Servants' arms.
come, I hear the music.               Ha! what are these?  Sure, hangmen,
A lane there for my lord.                    That come to bind my hands, and then drag me
Well. This sudden heat                    Before the judgment seat!-Now they are new
May yet be cool'd, Sir.             [AIusic.       shapes,
Sir G. Make way there for my lady and mylord. And do appear like furies, with steel whips,
To scourge my ulcerous soul! Shall I then fall
Enter ALLWORTH and MARGARET.          Ingloriously, and yield? No, spite of fate,
Marg. Sir, first your pardon, then your bless- I will be forc'd to hell like to myself
ing, with                              Though you were legions of accursed spirits,
Your full allowance of the choice I have made.   Thus would I fly among you!
Not to dwell too long on words,     [Kneels.                       [Servants carry him of.
This is my husband.                            Mar. Was it not a rare trick,
Sir G. How?                               An't please your worship, to make the deed noAllho. So, I assure you; all the rites of marriage, Certain minerals I us'd,    [thing?
With everyv circumstance, are past.         Incorporated with the ink and wax.




SCENE 1.j    ANEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.                                            461
Besides, he gave me nothing, but still fed me  That I must fix on.
With hopes and blows; and that was the induce-            [ Takes LADY ALLWORTH'S hand
To this conundrum.                    [ment   Allw. What you shall determine,
Well. You are a rascal. lie, that dares be false My lord, I will allow of.
To a master, though unjust, will ne'er be true  Well.'Tis the language
To any other. Look not for reward            That I speak too; but there is something else,
Or favour from me; I will shun thy sight     Beside the possession of my land
As I would do a basilisk's. Thank my pity,   And payment of my debts, that I must practise.
If thou keep thy ears; howe'er, I will take order  I had a reputation, but'twas lost
Your practice shall be silenc'd.             In my loose course; and, till I redeem it
Just. Gr. I'll commit him,                 Some noble way, I am but half made up.
If you will have me, Sir.                    It is a time of action; if your lordship
Well. That were to little purpose;        Will please to confer a company upon me
His consciencee be his punishment.-Not a word, In your command, I doubt not, in my service
But instantly be gone.      [Exit MARRALL. To my king and country, but I shall do some
Marg. Oh, my poor father!                  That may make me right again.         [thing
Alow. Nay, weep not, dearest, though it shows   Lord L. Your suit is granted,
your pity.                             And you lov'd for the motion.
What is decreed by Heaven we cannot alter:     Well. Nothing wants then,
And Heaven here gives a precedent, to teach us         [Addressing himself to the audience.
That, when we leave religion and turn atheists,  But your allowance-and in that our all
Their own abilities leave them.              Is comprehended: it being known, nor we,
Lord L. Pray you, take comfort;            Nor he that wrote the comedy, can be free
I will endeavour you shall be his guardian   Without your manumission; which, if you
In his distraction: and for your land, Mr. Well- Grant willingly, as a fair favour due
1'11 be an umpire                     [born, To the poet's and our labours (as you may,
Between you and this the undoubted heir      For we despair not, gentlemen, of the play)Of Sir Giles (Overreach. For me, here's the an- We jointly shall profess, your grace hath might
chor                                   To teach us action, and him how to write.
[Exeunt.
39*




THE
DOCTOR AND TE APIOTHEC ARY:
A IMUSIC-' ALA'iT -  AT ENTRTAINENT,
IN TWO' ACTS. 
BY J A M ESi COBB, EsQ.
REMARKS.
TaHs pleasant antidote to dullness was well received during its run, and still maintains a place among the
btock of the-niational theatres.- The author: we will have-occasion to mention hereafter, in the Remarks on his
" First Floor;"a:nd this piece will not diminish his credit as a dramatic writer.
Mrs. Inchbald's farce of ". animal IMagnetisrm," (intended to ridicule the absurd reveries of that doctrine,) appears to have been laid under contribution by our Author; but the characters are combined in a pleasing manner.
This piece first introduced Mr. Storace to the public as a composer; and his excellent music contributed to its
success.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
DRURY LANE.                                   DRURY LANE.
T'IHOMASO.................. Mr. Parsons.        PEREZ.....  Mr. Burton.
STURMWALD...............Mr. Dodd.
CARLOS............. Mr. Kelly.       ANNA,..........Mrs. Crouch,
JUAN,.....................Mr. Bannister,,Tun.  ISABELLA,..........Miss Romanzznt
GUZMAN,............. Mr. Sedgwick.    THERESA,.........rs. Booth.
DR. BILIOSO,...........  Mr. Suett.
ACT I.                                     Enter THOMASO.
SCENE I.-The outside of THOMASO'S House.    Tho. What, moping yet, my frienu Guzmasn'
A view of distant hills, with the sun setting  -For shame, you a sailor, and carry sorrow
behind them.                                 aboard! Zounds! if I had lost a mistress,-nay,
Enter STURMWALD, GUZMAN, ANNA, ISABELLA, had it been my wife,and THERESA.                      The. Well, Sir.
TRIO.-ANNA, ISABELLA, and GUZMAN.            Tho. I think I could have comforted myself
Now the sun so faintly glcing  Ah, captain, how far preferable are the charms
ow'er the wesun  so faintly   lancin ray;  of peace and a country life, to all the bustle and
O'er the western hills his ray;       danger of a campaign!
Evening shadows, quick advancing,       danger of a campaign!
EvenTriumph o'er the fhadowsquick advancingg day.  Stur. It may be so to you, Signor Thomaso,
who slumber in the inglorious lap of peace: but
DUET.-ANNA and ISABELLA.              war is my element; glory is my mistress; and I
Timorous love, at day affrighted,       have; courted her amid the cannon's thunder.
Blushing, courts the silver moon;        Tho. Many men of many minds, captain; for,Sta'r. Bacchus' sons are now delighted,       my part, I always preferred a more quiet kind of
Night's the jolly fellow's noon.     courtship; but i'faith, you are a man of true gallantry, to remain so partial to your mistress, after
TRIO,                      having lost the use of a leg and an eye, in her
Evening thus our joys uniting,           service.
To her power due homage pay;             Stur. A leg and an eye! Psha,-trifles! while
Mirth, to dance and song inviting,       my honour, a soldier's vital spark, has escaped
Bids us hail the close of day.         unhurt.-You may be a very good apothecary,
462




SCENE 1.1  THE DOCTOR AND THE APOTHECARY.                                          463
Signor Thomaso, and may understand lotions   Tho. [Aside.] He wont be out of water this
and potions; but as to a soldier's honour-   half hour.
The. Ah, very true, captain. He is a most pro-   Stur. A  scoundrel French dragoon, upon a
voking man, though he is my husband.  For black horseshame, after our good friend, Captain Sturmwald,   Tho. A gray horse.
has come all the way from Germany to marry our   Stur. Black-black as jet.
daughter Anna.-                                Tho. I beg your pardon, captain, itwas a gray
Tho. Nay, I'm sure, the captain knows Imean horse. I have heard you tell the story twenty
no harm.-Anna, come hither, child. [Aside. to times, and you always said the horse was gray.
ANNA.] Why don't you smile upon your hus- So much for that. Now you must know, my
band, that is to be?                        dropsAnna. Do not, my dear father, persist in this   Stur. You have heard me tell the story then?
cruel. solicitation.;                          Tho. Often-So my drops-,rho. [Aside to her.] Psha! how can you be   Stur. And what d'ye think of it?
so obstinate!-though the captain is not very    Tho. One of the best stories I. ever heard in
handsome. he is very rich.'Tis true, he is. rather my life. Soold; but then you know you have the better chance    Stur. I'm very glad you like it. I'll tell you
of being a widow soon;* and as to his having but another.
one eye, it ought to be his recommendation, for   Tho. Curse his stories. [Aside.] To-morrow,you'll have no trouble in discovering his blind side. captain, I shall be happy to hear it.
The. Lookye, Anna, you know my way of   Stur. Well; if you. are tired of my company,
arguing, and so does your father. It is my plea- I'll go.and get a bottle of good wine, to make me
sure that you marry Captain Sturmwald; and'sleep soundly; and so adieu, my dear father-innave him you shall.                         law.
Guz. Have a little patience with her, my dear   Tho. Adieu, mydearson-in-law. [Aside.] What
Madam.                                       a cursed- bore he is for talking.     [Exit.
Anna. Then you are resolved to render me   Stur. A good kind, of a man enough; but can't~
miserable!                                   bear to hear anybody talk, except himself. [Exit.
On.Love's bless'd. altar burns the flame,:    The sun sets, and THOMASO'S shop is lighted up
Whence Hymen's torch should kindle brightter CARLO.
To bliss, which boasts fair virtue's name;
It casts its pure and radiant light.     Car. When wilt thou cease, thou pleasing pain,
With cruel sway to rend my heart'
But, ah! should avarice interpose              Yet, though of torment Icomplain
With sordid and unhallow'd fires,                Alas! I fear to cure the smart.
The prospect which their light bestows,
Repentance and despair inspires.                  Enter JUAN, witi a guitar.
[Exeunt ANNA, ISABELLA, and GUZMAN, Juan. Sighing never gains a maid!
into the house.                            I'll tell you what is better far;
The. Anna's reluctance is certainly owing to     Call good humour to your aid,
that impertinent slut, her cousin. I'm sure she  And play the lass a tune upon the sweet
does not inherit her obstinacy from me. When           guitar.
my mother. proposed a husband to me, I gave my     If a heart has nature dealt her,
consent without a moment's hesitation. Didn't I,   Music's charms will surely melt her;
my dear?                                          But should the gipsy answer, No,
The. True, my love; but then I hadnot lost       Sing tol de rol, and let her go.
any of my limbs in pursuit of glory, like the cap-   Car. [Aside.] Zounds! I see some one at the
tain.                          [Aside to her. door. A rival, perhaps!
Stur. I was thinking whether I had not better  [They approach, each with his hand on his
talk to the young lady myself.                       sword, till CARLOS perceives it to be
/The. To be sure; how the deuce else are you      JUAN.
to gain her consent?                        Juan!
Stur. I'faith, I will. She'll find me very enter-   Juan. Carlos! my dear boy, how d'ye do'
taining. I'll breakfast with her to-morrow, and    Car. I'n  heartily glad. to see you-no, i'faith,
give her the history of my last campaign. I'll now I think again, I am not glad to see you, till I
come early in the morning, that I may finish the know what brought you hither.
story before dinner.                           Juan. I was going to tell you, I have an apThe. Ha! ha, ha!          [Exit THERESA.- pointment with a very pretty girl in this houseTho. Well, captain, now my wife is gone, I   Car. Ah! my fears.                [Aside.
want to have a little talk with you about my new-   Juan. So I am sure you will be complaisant
invented miraculous drops, as I call. them, that enough to wish me a good night.
cure all disorders.                            Car. Faith, I am sorry to deny you. But 1
Stur. Do they cure gun-shot wounds?       happen to have an assignation here myself. You
Tho. Every thing.                         perceive a light in that window?
Stur. I wish then I had had a bottle in that en-   Juan. That light is my signal.
ragement where I was wounded by a French    Car. Egad,'tis my signal too! So I'm sure
dragoon in the shoulder. I'll tell you how it hap- you will be complaisant enough to wish me a
pened.                                       good night.
Tho. Unfortunate man that I am! HIe'll talk   Juan. Sir, this insultlike my wife.                        [Aside.   Car. Insult, Sir!
Stur. We were fording a river, and I was             [Laying their hands on their swords.
about the middle of the stream-.               Juan. Though. now I recollect myself, perhaos




464          THE DOCTOR AND THE APOTHECARY.   [ACT I.
we are going to cut throats without any cause. urgent, I suppose —so I'll lose no time. What a
There are two fair damsels in that house. What pleasure it is to attend sensible patients! I dare
is the name of your mistress.            say, he is a shrewd fellow, by his wishing to try
Car. Anna, the daughter of old Thomaso, the my drops.                   [Exit  THOMASO.
apothecary; and your mistress is-              Juan. Ha, ha, ha! The old fox is fairly unJuan. Isabella! her laughing little cousin.  kennel'd.
Car. Then I am glad to see you, after all; and    Car. But how are we to get into the house'?
yet I am an unlucky dog, Juan. They are going   Juan.. The door is fast. Eh! i'faith this shutto marry my dear Anna to old Sturmwald, the ter is unbolted. [Opens part qf the shutter.] So
German captain. I dare not acquaint my father we will e'en get in at the shop window.
of my passion for her; you know he and Thomaso    Car. My best friend!
are the bitterest enemies. The only resource left          [Going to climb in at the window.
is, to carry her off; and I have, for this week past,   Juan. Hold! let me reconnoitre first. I know
in vain sought an opportunity of seeing her.  every part of the house-follow me.
Juan. Oh, the devil! Old Thomaso's man, to    Car. Kind Cupid light us on our way!
shut the shop up. Stand aside-                 Juan. Psha! Zounds! a lantern would light us
[THOMASO'S man shuts up the shop, while much better. So, rot your heroics, and follow me.
they talk aside.                         [Gets in at the window, and CARLOS follows.
Give me your hand, Carlos-you shall see Anna,          Enter STURMWALD, drunk.
speak to her, and carry her off this night.alt!  Stand to your
Car. My dear Juan, how is this to be accom-   Stur. Tol de rol, de rol-halt! Stand to your
Car.plished My dear Juanowisthisobeaccom-arms, Captain Sturmwald. Do my eyes deceive
JuanThefirstthingistplishedo get? theoldfellowme, or have the enemy besieged my father-in-law's
Juan. The first thing is to get the old fellow  house, and made a practicable breach in the shopout of the house.                            window? Who the devil are they?-Thieves!
Car. And how is that to be managed  that can't  e-Who'd  th.ink of steae
Juan. Very oeasily-as thus: I'll act an oldNo, aith,f stea
Wom  an.d bring hilm down, I'll warrant you. ing any thing out of an apothecary's shop! PerKnomancks. Say nothing, and stand aside.    haps they are gallants-have at you, my boys; I
nKnocts aouder.  must enter and defend my father-in-law. [Going
[Knocoks louder  to climb in at the window, he stops.] But hold!
[THoMASO opens the window and looks out. a prudent general should know what force he has
Tho. What the devil is all that noise forget-old Bolus is
Juan. [In afeigned voice.] Pray, is this Signor not at home-I remember I met him just now
Thomlaso's?                                  not at home-I remember I met him Just nowTho. Why, what do you want with Signor Egad, I'll go and fetch him, and we'll surprise the
Thoniaso;  good woman?                       enemy together.-How  lucky it is that I am
Juan.  The sick gentleman, Signor, at the next! sober! If I had taken the other bottle, my senses
Jua~r,. The sick gentleman, Signor, at the next might have been confused; but now I am cool
might have been confused; but now I am cool
inn, is much worse.                          and collected. Ah! there is nothing like drinkTho. I'm sorry for it; I wish the gentleman ingin moderation.                    [Exit.
had been much worse an hour ago; because then
I could have attended him; but at present I'm   SCENE II.-The inside qf THOMASo'S Shop.
going to bed.                                           Enter JUAN and CA'RLOS.
Juan. Dear Signor, you wont leave the poor   Car. Hush! tread softly, for your life.
man to the mercy of an ignorant physician?    Juan. Why, what are you afraid of?
Tho. Why, who attends him?                   Car. If Thomaso should return! and then.
Juan. Dr. Bilioso.                         perhaps —
Tho. Then I give him over. Good night to   Juan. Perhaps what? Why, your whole con.
you, good woman.          [Shuts the window. versation is composed of ifs-buts-perhapsesCar. Our plot is ruined.                   and supposes-a mere vocabulary of doubts.
Juan. Not yet, Carlos.                       Car Hark! I hear Anna's voice-the sound
[Knocks again, still louder. transports me. Oh, Juan, I scarcely know where
Tho. [Again opens the window.] Zounds! I am!
what's the matter with the woman?  Go about   Juan. Why, then, I'll tell you. —This is an
your business.                               apothecary's shop; it is dark, and you are suiJuan. [Again in a female voice.] The sick rounded with phials, therefore take care you break
man has heard wonders related of your famous none- Those are stairs before us, and lead to the
drops. Signor.                              room where our dear girls are-I shall go up first,
Thoe. Eh! what! —Oh ho! he has heard of my and you may follow, unless you prefer staying
drops.  Well, Madam'l                       here-I have now given you full information, and
Juan. And he wishes you would come to him  so come along.                     [Exeunt
directly, and bring a bottle in your pocket.
Trho. Aye, that I will-poor soul! poor soul!-   SCENE III.-A Room in THOMAsO's House.
Ill cure him in spite of his physician. [Calls    The Moon is seen through a window.
within.] Halloo! Pedro! [ To JUAN.] I'll go with     DUET.-ANNA and ISABELLA.
you, good woman; and as we walk, I'll tell you     Two maidens sat complaining,
some of the cures I have performed. 1'11 wait on
you instantly.            [Shuts the window.         And mourn'd their haless lot
Car. This is a prosperous beginning, Juan.       The pangs of absence paining,
Juan. Hush, not a word-we must retire.             Each by her love forgot.
[ They retire.     On every former token
Enter THOMAso,from the house.                  Of love, while fancy hung,
Tho. And so, good woman, you say,-Hey            Of vows so sweet, yet broken.
day., she is gone! The poor gentleman's case is      They, deeply sighing, sung.




SCENE III.] THE DOCTOR AND THE APOTHECARY.                                        465
At every sound they hear,                 Still i through Sorrow's tedious night,
With fond alarm they start;               Hope's friendly star discern;
Alternate hope and fear,                   On that I fix my anxious eye
Now joy, now pain, impart.                Until my love return.
But by each sound misguided,              By Jealousy's pernicious power,
Alas, they only find                      Untainted are my sighs;
Their tears, their sighs, derided,        Confiding in my Juan's truth,
By mocking rain and wind.                 My fondest wishes rise.
On every former, &c.                    Still 1 through Sorrow's, &c.
Anna. Isabella,'tis a whole week since I saw    Tho. [ Wthout.] Hey, Guzman! Pedro! where
ny Carlos. How can he say he loves me, and the devil are ye?
ret suffbr them to marry me to this hateful Ger-  Re-enter CARLOS, JUAN, and ANNA.
inan officer?                                 Anna. Oh, Isabella, my father is come home!
The. [Within.] Anna, why don't you go to all the doors are locked.
Hour chamber, child          n                 Car. And our retreat cut off:
Isa. Heavens! your mother is not gone to bed   Isa. Then we are lost.
Annet.           think my Carlos has really   Juan. No, faith, I'm afraid we are all found.
Anna. And do you think my Carlos has really  Where can we hide ourselves.
forsaken me? My Carlos, did I say-Yes, I will  Wa. Go into our chamber.
repeat it-My heart yields to the fond delusion of   Anna.  y father is now at the chamber-door.
my tongue; and I think I love him better every    Car. In here, ther is now at the chamber-door.
time I call him mine.                [Ex       Car. In here, then.
time  I call him mine.  [Exit.[Going into THERESA'S chamber.
ISABELLA alone.                 Anna. That's my mother's room.
Poor Anna! I love her sincerely, and yet I am    Isa. We are in luck. My uncle, in his hurry
not sorry she is gone-I think Juan must be here to visit his patient, has left the door of his study
soon-and-and perhaps our conversation would open. In, in, directly. [Exeunt CARLOS, and
be very uninteresting to her.               JUAN into the closet.] Here comes your father.
Re-enter ANNA.                      Enter THOMASO and STURMWALD.
Anna. Oh, Isabella, I'm frightened out of my    Tho. Anna! Theresa! Isabella! there are
wits. Two men have got into the house; and I thieves in the house.
think it is your lover and mine.               Anna. Thieves! bless me, Sir, what shall we do?
Isa. Well, my dear, and what is there so alarm-   Stur. Take'em, to be sure; take'em, dead or
ing in all that?.               alive.
Enter CARLOS and JUAN.                          Enter THERESA.
Ca.M ter CAnno a! d JUAN.The. What's that you say.-Thieves in our
Car. My dear Anna 
Anna. Ah! [Screams.]                      house?
Tho. The captain saw them get in. He'll tell
Juan. My dear Isabella!                   you the wholestory.
Isa. Hush! you'll wake your mother.       you the whole'story.
[CIsa. RLsh you'll waNNAe your motharriage-contract. r. Stur. That I will, with a great deal of pleasure.
[CeRLos shoins ANNa  a         marrige-ontract.   As I was coming from the tavern, where I had
The. [ Within.] Anna! what's the matter, been drinking a glass in moderation, as sober as 1
child 1                                     am now-I saw two men getting into my fatherIsa. My cousin was frightened  at something; in-law's house. What's to be done, thought I;
but I am sure there was no reason to be afraid.  for this was enough to stagger me, you may supAnna. Do you know, Isabella, this unreason- 
able creature has brought me a marriage-contract,   Tho. Oh! certainly. [Aside.] That you had
and would have me seize this moment to elope enough to stagger you, I believe.
with him!                                     The. [Taking  the contract from  ANNA'S
Car. [To ISABELLA.] And do you know, pocket.] Yes, and here is enough to stagger us
Madam, this unreasonable creature hesitates, all. This paper explains to me, that these thieves
though she promised me long ago to elope, when- are of Cupid's gang; gentlemen who commit senever I could find an opportunity.           timental robberies on the hearts of young ladies.
Juan. Psha! Marry first, and dispute after- There, Thomaso, read that! [Gives the contract.
wards; that would be much more in the common    Tho. What do I see! a contract of marriage
order of things.-Come, my dear Isabella, let us between my daughter and Carlos 3
set them a good example; leave dissimulation to   Stur. Carlos! What the devil! the enemy surknaves and coquettes, and lead up the dance of prise us in our own camp! Egad, we'll hold a
lymen as first couple.                      council of war immediately; I have something in
Isa. Why, if I were sure you would never wish my headto change partners-.                           Tho. [Aside.] Yes, rather more than you ought
Car. Consider, my dear Anna, the moments fly. to have.
Isa. [Peeping through the key-hole.] I vow,   The. I tell you, I am sure young Carlos is in
your mother is not in bed yet-[ To ANNA.] the house.
Away, away instantly, and leave me to keep her   Stur. Is he? Why, then, we'll break up the
Quiet; I'll follow you directly. [Exeunt ANNA, council.-Bella! horida bella! is our resolve;
CARLOS, and JUAN.] I'll sing, that she may sus- and so let us search for the enemy.
pect nothing.                                      [Going to open THERESA's chamber-door.
Ye hours that part my love and me,         The. Bless me, Captain Sturmwald-do you
And slow with envy creep,             know that is my chamber?
The dawn of bliss obscured by clouds      Stur. Well, my dear mother-in-law; and is not
Of doubt, in vain ye keep.            a lady's chamber the most likely place to find s
VOL. I....'3 N




466         THE DOCTOR AND THE APOTHECARY.  LACT II.
man ot gallantry'? However, I'll wheel to the   JUAN and CARLOS come out of the closet.
right about, if you please.                    Car. Softly, softly-First let us secure the key
[Goes to THOMASO'S closet-door. of the shop-door, to let ourselves out.
Tho. Stop, captain; no person ever enters that                         [ Takes the key.
closet but myself-'Tis there where I compose   Juan. That this old remnant of mortality
my miraculous drops.                        should think of rivalling a young fellow, with his
Stur. Ay, ay, I understand you —'Tis your five senses in perfection!
hocus pocus shop.                              Car. But to our plot, good Juan-our plot.
Tho. No, Sir,'tis my miracle shop.       We have no time to lose.
S&ur. Your magazinefor the destructive ammu-   Juan.'Faith, that's very true-So in you -must
nition of physic.                           go, my old commander.
Tho. My laboratory for the arcana of the Ma- g   They wheel the couch into THOMASO'S closet
teria Medica.'Tis the Temple of Health; and
the rosy Goddess herself presides over my pestle      But his power can ne'er subdue
and mortar.                                           But his power can ne'er subdue
Stur. A small room for the Temple of Health,     Watchful Love, who, ever waking,
I think, and rather dark.-Suppose, father-in-law,     Bids the sleeping sot adieu.
instead of confining the poor Goddess of Health     Bacchus should, on Venus waiting,
to her room, you were to let her visit some of your   Hold the cup with bended knee;
patients?                                          None but fools, his worth o'er-rating,
Tho. You may sneer as you please, Captain          With the servant make too free.
Sturmwald; I have the key of that closet in my  [JUAN comes out of the closet, and brings
pocket, and there it shall remain-So let us finish  with him STURMWALD'S cloak, hat, and
a foolish adventure, by wishing each other a good  patch.
night.
The. I shall take you with me, young ladies,        DUT.-ARLOS and JUAN.
to prevent further accidents. Captain Sturmwald,  Bacchus now his nap is taking;
where will you sleep Q                            But his power can ne'er subdue
Stur. Nowhere, Madam-I suspect the enemy      Watchful Love, who, ever waking,
is in ambuscade.  I will be the centinel of the   Bids the sleeping sot adieu.    [Exeunt.
night-Rest securely, while I guard you-Here
I take my post, and shall be on the watch, in case            ACT II.
the enemy should make a sally.                SCENE I.-The outside of DR. BILTOSO'S
Tho. Well, captain, I have no objection. Here                House.
is the key of the house, in case you choose to refresh yourself with a walk in the morning.            Enter GUZMAN and PEREZ.
[Hangs up the key.   Guz. But pray, Perez, is Doctor Bilioso informned of his son's attachment to my cousin Anna?
QUINTET.- ANNA, ISABELLA, THERESA, STURM      Per. Oh. dear, no. My old master hates Signor
WALD, and GUZMAN.               Thomaso to that degree, that he would rather see
his son hanged, than married into the family.
Reignsee       s of moon, ascendng high,  Guz. Though unacquainted with poor Carlos,
Reigns the empress of he sky;           I sympathize with him-had my Leonora livedAnd, in the zenith of her power,          Per. Ah! but she is gone-and your honour
Preside's o'er midnight's solemn hour.    Per. AhI but she is gone-and your honour
has been doleful and dumpish, as one may say
~'he.   You must bid adieu-    r To ANNA. ever since you came home from sea. Oh, I love
Yes, Miss, so must you-           to hear you talk of old stories-you make me so
[To ISABELLA. melancholy and so happy, that I cry by the hour
Anna 4 Isa. Must we bid adieu?  together.
Wherefore should we partq             uz. Poor fellow!
SpaWherefore my  aching he part.    Per. And pray, good Signor Guzman, when
Spare my aching heart.
you was voyaging about on the stormy main, and
Pho.   Come, let's go to bed;            fighting the Algerines, was not you now and then
Spare my aching head.            frightened too much to think of your love?
Stur.   Let him go to bed;                  Guz. No, Perez-pure love purifies the soul
Spare his aching head.           from every base alloy.
All.    Bid adieu!                            Let angry Ocean to the sky,
[ExiAtlTlwith. BANnd addseu!       In proud despite his billows roll;
-[Ex~it THER. with ANNAand ISAl.   Let thunders to his threats reply,
[Exeunt THOMASO and GUZMAN at the door          Fear is a stranger to my soul.
in the middle of the Scene, and STURMWALD   Within the heart which Love illumes,
places himself dn a couch, before THOMASO'S   And blesses with his sacred rays,
closet door.                                If meaner passion e'er presumes,,Sur. Come or., my boys, now I'm commander,     It fades before the hallowed blaze.
Though you're as brave as Alexander,     Though War with sullen aspect lower,
-Heigho! [ Yawning.]                      And crimson o'er the troubled wave,
- -You lie.                              And emulate the lightning's power,
On my guard here am I.                     The dangers of the fight I brave,
I fear no ambush, no entrapping;                      Within the heart, -4.c. [ExuI.
No one shall catch old Sturmwald nap-   Per. Here comes my master-and as cross 
ping.                [Falls asleep. usual.




SIENE.]   HED O C T O R AND T:HE AP OT H EC A RY.                                  467
Enter DR. BILIoso.                  7ho. Eh! what! bless my soul; son-in-law,
Dr. Bil. What a cursed neighbourhood is this -how do ye do' There seems to be a wonderful
for a physician to live in! No such thing as an change in your voice.'..
asthma, or a fit of the gout, to be met with from:.-Juan. All the effects.of last night.
year's'end-to yearend s.:All the villagersare    Tho. I suppose so-a violent cold, no doubtsuch a set'of damn'd, vulgar, healthy dogs-never- my drops are remarkably good for.the voice.
have the pleasure o f seeing -a meagre,-bilious gen-.luan. No, no, never mind-I'l tell: you a,tlemans-like -man' within ten miles of'the plae.-.story-...
How comfortable it would be to live at Const'anti-. Tho. I'd rather -you'd.let it alone..'Come, now
nople, where the plague: rages all the -year-?- -one spoonful will be enough.-'Tis a most
And then people' laugh'more here than in all,wonderful remedy-I have it.here in this closet.'
Spain besides.'-:A-h! 1 don't like laughing.: Well'  Juan.    urse-your drops.-I am.sure.the lovers
Perez-any body ill this morning'             of your daughter and niece are now in the.house.
Per.. [Sighing.] No, Sir, all-well..-.. Tho.: Well, captain, perhaps you. know bestD::'jr.:Bi. Ay-and will remain so as long asthis.but, upon my soul, I don't believe a word of the
plaguy fine weather-lasts-no -chance of another matter..No.w,:let me fetch a bottle of drops..
influenza-I',' who:am the physician. am the only.... Juan.:My jealousy is.alarm'd, Sir-and Imust.sickmain in the pari'sh.:be your son-in-law this morning, or. not at allPer. Yes, your worship seems stuck up here. No reply! I have brought this gentleman with
by way of a'me'dical scarecrow, to frighten-away  ue:; he is my notary,:and has drawn up a marsickness.                                     riage-contract.  So call your wife and the bride;
Dr. Bil. Or rather, like anelectrical conductor,' let us sign and seal, and then to church immediI'save-the-neighbourhood from danger, by attract- ately.
ing it to myself-.Ah! 1.lostthe only good patient  TIho.  Well, but Captain-.I had, iln my friend Alvarez —as fine a corpulent'i  Juan, I'm commanding officer.to-day;. -so no
-inactive subject as a physician would wish for. i more words, father-in-law. [Exit THoMASO.].Ha,
What with. repletion, and want of exercise,_.thei ha, ha! Well, Carlos, how have I imitated the
good soul:'was always ailing. I had great expec- iold German captain?  
tations from-him-but he grew stingy as he grew    Car. To a miracle. I' wish: Imay play my part
rich-avarice produced abstinence, and he starvedi half so well.
away the only hopes I had left.                 Juan. Psha! what difficulty is there in it-the
Per. There's the traveller who was taken ill at old folks will take you for the notary who has'prethe -next inn.                               i pared the contract of marriage between Anna: and
Dr. Bit. Ay, the only person I have at present;' Sturmwald; instead of that, you will substitute
under my'care, and he is a' foreigner-no native' the other contract, in which your own name'is
would have behaved so civilly as to be taken ill-' inserted. But here they come.
Not got well, I hope?:.     Enter THOMASO, THERESA, and ANNA.
-Per. Yes, so they say-the apothecary, Tho-   Anna. Nonothing shall shake my constancyAnna. NTo,nothing shall shake my constancyDr.maso, ws  Whsent for to him last night.'  every obstacle.you raise,: serves but to increase
Dr. Bi. What! send for myenemy-my an- my affection.
tagonist, Thomaso, the apothecary? A man of          Te summerheats, bestowing
honour would have sooner died under his physi —The              u er  hea tses
cian's hands, than have played lim such atrik.         Their influence on the rose,
Per. And'he took' some'of Thomaso's quack:      Perfect its charms when blowing,
medicine.                                              A And every. sweet. disclose.::Dr. Bit. 0 curse; his quack medicine —I hate     Yet summer suns denying
altl violent remedies-they make an: end of a busi-     The zephyr and the:shower;:
ness so' soon'. They either-kill or cure; and then,  Their fervid glow applying,
either way, one loses the patient. -             -    Destroy their fav'rite flower.
Per. And so Thomaso-.       The love-sick heart requiring
Dr. Bil.-'Oh rot- him —I'll go to the.rascally-    The sunshine of-success;
quack' directly; my patients:are my -property-'    Continual bliss desiring,:and shall' I tamely suffer my- property to be taken   Yet sickens with excess.
from'me. I'll trounce the dog.; No, no:, if a doc-   The fond, the secrettear,
tor's -patients are. permitted to slip through: his    Soft passion keeps alive'fingers  and get well-by stealth, there's an end to  The breath of doubt and fear,
all law and justice.: -       [Exeunt.           Like zephyrs, bids it thrive.
SCENE 11.-A Room in THoMAso's House.    Juan. Well, Signor Thomaso, have you look'd
Enter TuoaIASo.                over the contract'
Tho. Ah ha! the captain off already-I did'nt   Tho. I have; and find it perfectly right.
expecdthe had shaken off the effects of last night's   Juan. Verywell; but.where s Isabella''dose quite so soon.'I can hardlyi reconcile it to    The. Oh, I'll call her.-Isabella!-but I assure
myself to sacrifice poor Annato such a sot. My  you I wouldnot trust her with any body else.
conscience revolts against it, and whispers aye-             Enter ISABELLA.
but then my wife talks so much louder than my    Isa.'My dear Juan, what meansconscience; and so there's an end of the matter.    Juan. [Aside to her.] Hush, my love-ask no
Enter JlAN [behind,] disguised as STURMWALD, questions-persuade  Anna to sign that paper- it
and CARLOS disguised as a' notary, who listens is a contract of marriage between her and Carios,
at the corner of the scene.                who you see personates the notary.
Juan. [:In a hoarse voice.] Father-in-law, good   [CARLOS offers the contract to AiNAi?`w
morning to you.                       -                puts it aside.




468    THE DOCTOR AND THE APOTHECARY.  [AcI If
Anna. No, nothing shall induce me to sign this   Juan. Did not I tell you one of the rogues was:nated paper. Oh, Carlos, why are you not here hid there! I'll run and fetch an alguazil.
to snatch me from impending ruin.             Tho. You run — Why, you forget you are
Tho. Daughter, do not oblige me to exert my lame!
authority.                                    Juan. [In his natural voice.] Egad, so I do- -
The. Let her beware of my authority, which is but I am so interested in this business.
much greater.                                  Tho. And you have recovered your voice too!
Juan. Psha, psha! persuasion is better than   Juan. [Resuming his hoarse voice.] No, faith,
authority. Let her cousin talk to her. [ISABELLA  I think I'm as hoarse as ever.
whispers ANNA.] These girls know the way to   Stur. Thomaso! Signor Thomaso!
each other's hearts;:there-mother-in-law, you    Tho.'Tis the captain's voice. Egad, I'll fetch
see, she hangs out a smile of truce already.  an alguazil myself, and make sure of one of ye.
The. My dear daughter; you transport me!                                        [Exit.
Juan. Come, sign your consent to the mar-   Stur. Signor Thomaso!
riage.'                                Juan. Have a little patience. [Aside.] What's
The. Sign it-aye, that I will-Come, hus- to be done! If I attempt the door, I meet the alband.  [ANNA and THERESA sign the contract. guazil. I must e'en try this chamber-window.
Tho. Egad, captain; I don't understand that   [Pulls off STURMWALD'S hat, cloak, and patch;
notary's whispering my daughter, I-             throws them down at the closet-door, and
Juan. "Tis his way'-come, sign your name.     then goes into THERESA'S chamber.
Tho. No, Sir —[To CARLOS.] I insist upon
knowing what you mean?                                  Re-enter THOMASO.
Car. What I mean!                           Tho. An alguazil will be here presently, and
Juan. if you put hi m in a passion, take care then, Mr. Scoundrel-[Sees the cloak and patch.]
of yourself; he is the most choleric fellow-you  Hey-day  what's all this?  [ Takes them up.
had better sign at once.                      Stur. [In the closet.] Will nobody hear me!
Car.   This marriage article,  [To THOMASO.   Tho. it is Sturmwald! Oh, my mind misgives
In every particle,                  me.                       [Going to the door.
Is free from flaw, Sir;                   [He hears the noise of phials breaking in
I know what's law, Sir.                     the closet, and rushes in.
Zounds, Sir, my character none shall accuse!   Re-enter THOMASO and STURMWALD.
Behold this artifice, true love's devising,    Th. All my phials of drops broken  Let me
C[To ANNA, aside. tell you, Captain Sturmwald.
Your Carlos thus to all but you disguising;   Stur. Zounds! Sir, you shall tell me nothing
Witness —Thomaso my skill dares abuse.    but what I desire to know. I say, Sir, how did X
[To JUAN. come in that closet.
MTy only chance I see, is pique pretending;    Tho. That's the very question I want to ask
[To ANNA, aside. you: and, if we. both ask the same question, how
On thatT alone success is now depending.    the devil are we to get an answer.
Thrughout this nation, [TO ToAso.  Stur. Why, you dirty scrap of an apothecary,
High my reputation,                  how dare you laugh at me thus?
For law precision is,                   Tho. I laugh! Look at the bottles you've broke
And expedition is,. bnds, c.onve,.e            -I believe I shall never laugh again.
An ionss, conveynanyces, kdye mSdStur. You are all in the plot-'tis a trick to
And instruments of any kind.           abuse me; but I'll be revenged.'Sblood and
Kind fortune see, at length, our prayers heeding, thunder! to make a jest of me, who have fought.Relenting, gives us promise of succeeding.  in sixteen different battles! Did you know that T
[ To ANNA, aside.   Tho. Yes, you have often told me the names
n this transaction  To THOASO. of them all. But do you hear me, captain.
The law is my friend;               Stur. I'll hear nothing but revenge. To cram
WI' c bring my action,            me up in a dark:closet, among pickled snakes, and
stuffed alligators; me, who have lived amidst fire
[THoMAso,frightened, signs the contract. and smoke, who have fought for every prince in
Juan. Come, come, now all's finished, let us Europe by turns. and always had the honour to
away to church.                             be wounded! Who, to this hour, bear the troThe. Well, I'll be with you in a moment.  phies~ of war in every limb, and rejoice in the
[Elsit. aches, the cramps, and the twinges of glory!
Car. [Aside to JUAN.] For heaven's sake, Juan,
let us be gone. If Sturmwald should wake, we THERESA enters, and THOMASO explains to her,
are ruined,                                        in dumb show, what has passed.
Juan. [Aloud.] I beg your pardon for detain-   The. I am ~sure, captain, I don't wonder at
ing you. Mr. Notary. conduct these ladies to my your being angry with my husband-he's a poor
house, and I'll follow you immediately.     blundering creature, as, I often tell him.
[Exeunt ANNA, ISABELLA, and CARLOS.   Tho. Nay, the captain knows, I never mean to
Tho. Stop! stay-What, without my wife's offend him. I've done all I canOave?                                          The. Psha! so you always say. Go, get an
Stur. [In the closet.] Halloo! death and fury! alguazil, and seek for the rogues that have stolen
where am I.                                our two girls, do. [Exit THOMASO.] Come, cap.
Tho. Eh, what's that.?                    tain, suppose you and I follow him? For my sake.
Stur. Thieves.! thieves!                  be patient. The brave never refuse the requests
Tho. I'm lost in amazement.               of the fair.




CENE III.] T:HE DOCT.OR AND THE AP.OTHECARY                                       469
Stur. Never; and to prove it, I'll tell you a            Enter ISABELLA.
story of what happened when I was in Germany.   Car. Well Isabella,any news of Juan 3
[Exeunt.  Isa. Alas! none-Every human being that
JUAN comes softly out of THERESA'S room, in   passed at a distance, did my pliant fancy conjure
woman's clothes.              up into a likeness of Juan.
Juan. This confounded window is too closely    Car. The rising ground, on the left hand,
barred even for a mouse to creep through. How- commands a prospect of the road.-Let me tr
ever, in this disguise, I think I shall get off undis- whether friendship cannot see more clearly than
love.
covered;-or, if I should be questioned, I'll pass
for a patient come to ask Thoaso's advice  Anna. Are not we a couple of wild girls, Isa,
for a patient come to ask Thomaso's advice.
Dr. Bil. [Speaking to a Servant as he comes bella 
on.] Don't tell me-  t say he is at home, and I   Isa. Not incorrigible, my dear cousin, however;
on.] Don't tell me —[ say he is at'home, and I
will see him.                               we have pursued a very effectual mode of taming
Juan. Who comes here 2-Dr. Bilioso himself! ourselves-by getting married.
Anna. To be sure, we have uttered the fatal
Enter DR. BILIOSO, seeing JUAN.       yes.
Dr. Bil. But I beg pardon; you want advice, I   Isa. The fatal yes! Why, my dear, do you
presume;-let me feel your pulse.           think our lovers are such fools, as to think the
[Attempting to take JUAN'S hand. better or the worse of our affection for them, beJuan. [Struggling.] Zounds! I shall be dis- cause we have said yes?
covered. [Aside.] Dear Sir, pray let me alone-   How mistaken is the lover,
my nerves are so weak, and you agitate me so.-     Who on words builds hopes of bliss!
Dr. Bil. Why, really, Madam, you have rather     And fondly thinks we love discover,
agitated me. I think I never yet met with a lady   If perchance we answer Yes.
so strong in the arm. Pray, what is your com-    Prompted often bydiscretion
plaint, Ma'am r                  -                 Is the seeming kind expression,
Juan. My complaint is against Thomaso, who     When the tongue, the heart belving,
bas killed a poor friend of mine.                 Dares not venture on denying;
Dr. Bil. Oh, he has done worse than that-he    But, in spite of discontent,
has taken a patient away from me, after I had      Gives the semblance of consent.
given him over. So, if he recovers the man, he                    How mistaken, 4~c.
ruins my reputation. There's an unfeeling aeoundrel for you! i                   - -Ah!:how vain is art's profession,
Juan. Ah, you and I mean the same person-        Though the faltering tongue comply!
the poor gentleman at the next inn.-But Tho-     What avails the cold confession,
maso's drops have done for him-my poor friend      If the averted eyes deny!
is no more. I'm heartily                         Happier far, the experienced swain
Dr. Bil. I'm heartily glad of it-very sorry for  Knows  he triumph must attain,
it, I mean. I thank you for the news, however.   When in vain successless trial,
Now I have that rogue Thomaso in my gripe.       Languae gives the faint denial;
Juan. Lose no time, Sir, but get an officer im-  th    e eyes betray the fiction
mediately, and secure Thomaso.                   In delightful contradiction;
Dr. Bil. That I will.-Ay, ay-    [Going.      And the cheeks with blushes glow.
Juan. Surely, Sir, you will have the gallantry  And the tongue still faulters No.
to conduct me safe out of this house-if I should                  How mistaken,.c.
be insulted,                                               Enter CARLos.
Dr. Bil. Insulted! Lord, Ma'am, there's no    Car. Here is Juan-So all we have to dois 
danger of that. Nature has furnished you with    Car. oere is Juan-So all we have to do, is off.
such powers of defence; united the charms of your mout our horses, and gallop off.
sex to the strength of ours. You are a glass of             Enter JUAN.
Nature's choicest cordial, Madam; sweet and
Juan. Hold! you're mistaken-You've somestrong at the same time.                    thing else to do, I assure you. We have certainly
[Exit, eading JUAN of. been traced from the village-Dr. Bilioso and
Signor Thomaso are both coming up the hill difthe Trees.                 ferent ways, and will most likely meet at this spot
-But they are here.
Enter ANNA and CARLOs.                [ANNA, ISABELLA, CARLOS, and JUAN, retire
Car. Consider, my dear Anna, we have your       up the Stage.
father's signature to our contract of marriage.    Enter DR. BILIOSo and THOMASO, meeting, each
Anna. But will he give his voluntary consent            with an Alguazil.
to what has been procured by artifice 3
Car. Fear nothing, my dear; trust to me.    Dr. Bil. Oh, you vile quack! Where's my
Am I beloved? Can you refuse Q         patient.
Alas! my heart for pity sues.            Tho. Where is my daughter, you old rogue'l
That heart whose constancy you've known;   You have assisted your son to run away with her.
That heart whose constancl  your own.     Lay hold of him, Alguazil.
Dr. Bil. What! why, I brought an officer to
Every moment, as it flies,            seize you. Here, do your duty.
Warns us where our danger lies.                                   [ To the Alguazil.
Ah! there's ruin in delay;              Juan. [Coming forward.] Dear gentletnenj
Lovely Anna! let's away.             what's the matter?
40




470         TIE IDOC T'OR AND:THE: APOTHECA:RY'.  [ACT I1
Dr. Bil. Why, Sir; that fellow is a quack, and   Enter THERESA; STURMWALD,- and GUZMAN.
has killed one of my patients.                 SlBur. A general muster of the whole corps,...- Tho.: That's impossible; for, though he calls egad-; deserters and all. You are my prisoner,
himself a physician, he has. no patients to kill.    Madam.                   [To ANNA.
Dr. BDii. What!  do you forget the poor gexntle.-.Car. No, Sir, not while I can defend her.
man at the inn?.....         Anna. [To STUR.] Oh, Sir, hear me! the
Tho. Well,. he wasfair game. You had gien brave are ever generous:. do not attempt a life so
him over..                                dear to meDr. Bil; Zounds, Sir, what does that signify.  Stur. Bullets and gunpowder! why. don't you
I have given over fifty.people in my time,. who love me then? I thought you told me, mother-in.
have recovered afterwards.                  law, it was.all maiden coyness in her.
Juan. [Aside.] My plot has taken, I perceive;   The. Stuff and nonsense! Take her, Captain
they believe  him  dead yet.  [To THOMASO.] Sturmwald, she is yours. Defend your honour.
I'faith, this is a serious affair. You had better Stur. And that my honour may be worth do
compound this business.                     fending, I'll take care it shall not be tarnished by
Tho. He wont agree to it; he hates me so.    an unjust action. Anna, your mother says you
Juan. [Aside to THOMASO.]  Let me talk to are mine.. If so,. I dispose of what is minehim.-[Aside..to DR. BILos.] Sir, when I see thus: —[Giving her hand to CARLOS.] Come,
so.valuable. a life as yours ini danger-:    come, we have by mistake opposed the union of
Dr. Bil. My life in danger                hearts on their march to form a junction, and we
Juan. From that bloody-minded apothecary. I are. defeated. So much the better; who would
find your son has eloped with his daughter, and wish to conquer.in a bad. Cause.  You must conhe is resolved: to be revenged; by assassinating sent to unite these turtles.  [To THOMASO.
you and: your' whole family. See, how he looks   Tho.:Has my wife any objection?
at you!''             The. I'll have nothing to do with it; so, act as
Dr. Bil. Ratsbane and arsenic in his counte- you please.
nance!''.               Tho. Why then, give me your hand, doctor
Juan. [Aside to THoMASO.] Did you ever see [To DR. BILIOSo.] and here's an end of ol.
such a determined dog. He: is resolved to hang quarrels, Take my daughter, young man, [ To
you!.;          JCARLOs.] and you take my niece, [To JUAN.] and
Tho. I dare' say he has the rope in his pocket. you [ To STURMWALD.] take my wife, if you will.
Pray, mollify hinm.'t                       Egad, I am in such a good humour, I could give
Dr. Bil. fAside to JUAN:]. I'faith, Idon't half away any thing.
like him.  rell him: I'll forgive him.
Juan. Dismiss your alguazils.-[Exeunt Al-                    FINALE.
guazils.] You bind yourselves to stand by my determination 2-..-....'Tis joy inspires the vocal lay,
Dr. Bil. and The. We. do.    -                   And animates the choral song;
Juan. Then, I believe, all'parties are satisfied.-  Of love we sing the gentle sway,
Appear, appear. -                                  May constancy the theme prolong!
Old Time with joys unceasing,
ANNA, CARLOS, and ISABELLA, come forward.        Shall add to Hymen's store;
Our friendship still increasing,
Anna. My dear father!:                           When youth shall be no more.
Tho. Zounds, what is all this!                                               [Exeunt.




THE,GAMESTER:
A TRAGEDY,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY EDWARD MOORE
REMARKS.
WHEN this tragedy was shown in manuscript to Dr. Young, he remarked, that "Gaming wanted such a caustic
as the concluding scene presented." It is certainly the best drama produced by Mr. Moore; but, although its
merits are considerable, the audience of 1753 did not bestow that perfect approbation it has since uniformly received. The language is nervous and pathetic; the plot artful, yet clearly conducted; and the catastrophe truly
tragic. Beverley has been a successful character of several of our most eminent actors; of Garrick, Young,
Kemble, &c.: the late Mr. John Palmer was so superior in Stukely, that the character is said to have died with
him. Mrs. Siddons and Miss O'Neil have, also, acquired additional claims to the public regard in their delineation of the heroine.
DRAMATIS P E RSONZE.
DRURY LANE, 1814.                              DRURY LANE, 1814.
BEVERLEY......Mr. Rae.               WAITER,...........           Mr. Maddocks.
LEWSON..................Mr. Elrington.
STUKELY,...                  r. Raymond.       Mas. BEVERLEY,............ Miss Smith.
TARVIS,......Mr. Powell.   CHARLOTTE..    Miss Boyce.
BATES,......Mr. R. Phillips.    Luc...........Miss Tidswell.
DAWSON,.M... r. J. Wallack.
ACT  I.                     have contented him. Need he have staid out all
night' —I shall learn to detest him.
SCNE   -BEVEREYS  dgrs. B. Not for the first fault. He never slept
INRs. BEVERLEY and CHARLOTE discovered.   from me before.
Char. Slept from you! No, no, his nights have
Mrs. B. Be comforted, my dear, all may be well nothing to do with sleep. How has this one vice
paet. And now, methinks, the lodging begins to driven him  from every virtue!-Nay, from his
Lok with another face. Oh, sister! sister! if affections too!-The time was, sisterthese were all my hardships; if all I had to com-    M1rs. B. And is. I have no fear of his affections.
plain of were no more than quitting my house,'Would I knew that he were safe!
servants, equipage, and show, your pity would be    Char. From  ruin and his companions.  But
weakness.                                      that's impossible.-His poor little boy, too! what
Char. Is poverty nothing, then.        must become of him 1
2Airs. B. Nothing in the world, if it affected  Mirs. B. Why, want shall teach him industry.
only me. While we had a fortune, I was the From his father's mistakes heshall learn prudence,
happiest of the rich; and now'tis gone, give me and from his mother's resignation, patience. Pobut a bare subsistence and my husband's smiles, verty has no such terrors in it as you imagine.
and I shall be the happiest of the poor. Why do  There's no condition of life, sickness and pain
you look at me'                                excepted, where happiness is excluded.'rhe
Char. That I may hate my brother.            husbandman, who rises early to his labour, enjoys
Ai[rs. B. Don't- talk so, Charlotte.         more welcome rest at night for't.  His bread is
Char. Has he: not undone you — Oh, this sweeter to him; his home happier; his family
pernicious vice of gaming! but methinks his dearer; his enjoyments surer.  The sun that
usual hours of four or five in the morning might I rouses him in the morning, sets in the evening to
471




472                            THE GAMESTER.                                    LACT,.
release him. All situations have their comforts, when he died he bequeathed me to his son. I
if sweet contentment dwell in the heart. But have been faithful to him too.
my poor Beverley has none. The thought of   Mrs. B. I know it, I know it, Jarvis.
having ruined those he loves is misery for ever to   Jar. I have not a long time to live. I asked
him. Would I could ease his mind of that!    but to have died with him, and he dismissed me.
Char. If he alone were ruined,'twere just he   Mlrs. B. Pr'ythee, no more of this!'Twas his
should be punished. He is my brother,'tis true; poverty that dismissed you.
but when I think of what he has done-of the   Jar. Is he indeed so poor, then?-Oh! he was
fortune you brought him-of his own large estate the joy of my old heart-But must his creditors
too, squandered away upon this vilest of passions, have all?'-And have they sold his house too!
and among the vilest of wretches! oh, 1 have His father built it when he was but a prating boy.
no patience!-My own little fortune is untouched, The times that I have carried him in these arms!
he says.'Would I were sure on't.            And, Jarvis, says he, when a beggar has asked
Mrs.- B. And so you may-'twould be a sin to charity of me, why should people be poor 3 You
doubt it.                                   sha'n't be poor, Jarvis; if I were a king, nobody
Char. I will be sure on't-'twas madness in me should be poor. Yet he is poor. And then he
to give it to his management. But I'll demand it was so brave! —Oh, he was a brave little boy!
from him this morning. I have a melancholy oc- and yet so merciful, he'd not have killed the gnat
casion for it.                               that stung him.
iMrs. B. What occasion,  Mrs. B. Speak to him, Charlotte, for I cannot.
Char. To support a sister.                  Jar. I have a little money, Madam; it might
Ahirs. B. No; I have no need on't. Take it, have been more, but I have loved the poor. All
and reward a lover with it.-The generous Lew- that I have is yours.
son deserves much more.-Why wont you make   Mrs. B. No, Jarvis; we have enough yet. I
him happy 3                                 thank you though, and I will deserve your good.
Char. Because my sister's miserable.      ness.
-Mrs. B. You must not think so. I have my   Jar. But shall I see my master 3 And will he
jewels left yet. And when all's gone, these hands let me attend him in his distresses 3 I'll be no
shall toil for our support. The poor should be expense to him; and'twill kill me to be refused.
industrious.-Why those tears, Charlotte?    -Where is he, Madam!
Char. They flow in pity for you.            Mrs. B. Not at home, Jarvis. You shall see
AMrs. B. All may be well yet. When he has him another time.
nothing to lose, I shall fetter him in these arms    Char. To-morrow, or the next day-Oh, Jaragain: and then what is it to be poor 3      vis! what a change is here!
Char. Cure him but of this destructive passion,   Jar. A change indeed, Madam! my old heart
and my uncle's death may retrieve all yet.  aches at it. And yet, methinks-But here's
Mrs. B. Ay, Charlotte, could we cure him!-  somebody coming.
But the disease of play admits no cure but pover-   Re-enter Lucy, with STUKELY.
ty; and the loss of another fortune would but increase his shame and his affliction. —-Will Mr.   Lucy. Mr. Stukely, Madam.       [Exit.
Lewson call this morning?                     Stuke. Good morning to you, ladies. Mr. JarChar. He said so last night.. He gave me vis, your servant. Where's my friend, Madam 
inints, too, that he had suspicions of our friend                    [To MRs. BEVERLEY.
Stukely.                                       Mrs. B. I should have asked that question of
Mrs. B. Not of treachery to my husband? you. Have you seen him to-day.
That he loves play, I know, but surely he's ho-   Stuke. No, Madam.
nest.                                          Char. Nor last night 3
Char. He would fain be thought so;-therefore    Stuke. Last night! did he not come home
I doubt him. Honesty needs no pains to set it- then?
self off.'Mrs. B. No.-Were you not together 3
Stuke. At the beginning of the evening, but
Enter LucY.                  not since.-Where can he have staid?
Char. You call yourself his friend, Sir-why
Lucy. Your old steward, Madam. I had not do you encourage him in his madness ofgaming 
the heart to deny him admittance, the good old    Stuke. You havme that question before,
man begged so hard for't.                 d    Stuke You have asked me that question before,
man begged so hard for't.      >    [Exit. Madam; and I told you my concern was that I
Enter JARVIS.                could not save him; Mr. Beverley is a man, Madam; and if the most friendly entreaties have no
lairs. B. Is this well, Jarvis 3 I desired you to effect upon him, I have no other means. My
avoid me.                                    purse has been his, even to the injury of my forJar. Did you, Madam? 1 am an old man, and tune. If that has been encouragement, I deserve
had forgot. Perhaps, too, you forbade my tears; censure; but I meant it to retrieve him.
but I am old, Madam, and age will be forgetful.    MlIrs. B. I don't doubt it, Sir, and I thank you
Mrs. B. The faithful creature! how he moves — But where did you leave him last night 3
me!                         [ To CHARLOTTE.   Stuke. At Wilson's, Madam, if I ought to tell,
Jar. I have forgot these apartments too. I re- in company I did not like. Possibly he may be
member none such in my young master's house; there still. Mr. Jarvis knows the house, I believe.
and yet I have lived in it these five and twenty   Jar. Shall I go, Madam!
years. His good father would not have dismiss-   Mlirs. B. No; he may take it ill.
ed me.                                         Char. He may go as from himself.
lMrs. B. He had no reason, Jarvis.           Stuke. And if he pleases, Madam, without.Jr. I was faithful to him while he lived, and naming me I am faulty myself, and should con



SCENE.]                      THEE GAMEST ER.                                     47
ceal the errors of a friend. But I can refuse no-   Stuke. Then I am happy-I would say morething here.            [Bowing to the ladies. but am prevented.
Jar. I would fain see him, methinks.                   Enter CHARLOTTE.
MUrs. B. Do so then, nbut take care how you    Char. What a heart has that Jarvis!-A creupbraid him-I have never upbraided him.      ditor sister. But the good old man has taken him
Jar.'Would I could bring him comfort! [Exit. away-" Don't distress his wife-don't distress
Stuke. Don't be too much alarmed, Madam. away-"on't distress his wifeon't distress
All men have their errors, and their times of see- his sister," I could hear him say. "'Tis cruel to
distress the afflicted."-And when he saw me at
yet. But g them. Perhaps my friend's time is not come the door, he begged pardon that his friend had
yet.' But he has an uncle; and old men don't knocked so loud.
ive for ever. You should look forward, Madam;   Stuke. I wish I had known of this. Was it a
we are taught how to value a second fortune by
the loss of the first.    [Knocking at the door. large demand, Madam.
Mrs. B. Hark!-No-.that knocking was too    Char. I heard not that; hut visits such as these
rude for Mr. Beverley. Pray heaven he be well! we must expect often-Why so distressed, sister
Stuke. Never doubt it, Madam. You shall be
well too —Every thing shall be well.          Mrs. B. No, Charlotte; but I am faint with
watching-quite sunk and spiritless-Will you
[Knocking again.
3Mrs. B. The knocking is a little loud though excuse me, Sir?  I'll to my chamber, and try to
— Who waits there' Will none of you answer? rest a little.                      [Exit
-None of you, did I say q-Alas, what was I   Stuke. Good thoughts go with you, Madam.
ihsiulking of!  I had forgot myself.         My bait has taken then. [Aside.]-poor Mrs. Be
Char. I'll go, sister-but don't be alarmed so.  verley! How my heart grieves to see her thus
[Exit.   Char. Cure her, and be a friend then.
Stuke. What extraordinary accident have you    Stuke. How cure her, Madam?
~o fear, Madam ~Q~~ Char. Reclaim my brother.
A/rs. B. I beg your pardon; but'tis ever thus    tuke. Ay; give him a new creation, or breathe
with me in Mr. Beverley's absence. No one another soul into him. I'll think on't, Madam
knocks at the door, but I fancy it is a messenger Advice, Isee is thankless.
of ill news.                                   Char. Useless I am sure it is, if, through misStuke. You are too fearful, Madam;'twas but taken friendship, or other motives, you feed his
one night of absence; and if ill thoughts intrude passion with your purse, and sooth it by example
(as love is always doubtful,) think of vour worth Physicians, to cure fevers, keep from the patient's
and beauty, and drive them from your breast. thirsty lip the cup that would inflame him. You
and beauty, and drive them from your breast..[A knocking.] Hark, Sir IMrs. B. What thoughts'  I have no thoughts give it to his hands. [A knocking. Hark, Sir!that wrong my husband.     -These are my brother's desperate symptoms-J
Stuke. Such thoughts indeed would wrong him. Another creditor
The world is full of slander; and every wretch Stuke. One not so easily got rid of-What,
that knows himself unjust, charges his neighbour Lewson!
with like passions; and by the general frailty             Enter LEwsoN.
hides his own-If you are wise, and would be   Lew. Madam, your servant-Yours, Sir. I
happy, turn a deaf ear to such reports.'Tis ruin was inquiring for you at your lodgings.
to believe them.                               Stuke. This morning! You had business then?
Mrs. B. Ay, worse than ruin.'Twould be to   Lew. You'll call it by another name, perhaps.
sin against conviction. Why was it mentioned? Where's Mr. Beverley, Madam?
Stuke. To guard you against rumour. The    Char. We have sent to inqure for him.
sport of half mankind is mischief; and for a sin-   Lew. Is he abroad then' he did not use to go
gle error they make men devils; if their tales out so early.
reach you, disbelieve them.                    Char. No, nor stay out so late.
Mrs. B. What tales? by whom' why told 1.  Lew. Is that the case? I am sorry for it. But
I have heard nothing-or, if I had, with all his Mr. Stukely, perhaps, may direct you to him.
errors, my Beverley's firm faith adrhits no doubt   Stuke. I have already, Sir. But what was
-It is my safety, my seat of rest and joy, while your business with me?
the storm threatens round me. I'll not forsake it.   Lew. To congratulate you upon your late suc[STUKELY sighs, and looks down.] Why turn cess at play. Poor Beverley!-But you are his
you, Sir, away? and why that sigh'        friend; and there's a comfort in having successful
Stuke. I was attentive, Madam; and sighs will friends.
come, we know not why. Perhaps I have been    Stuke. And what am I to understand by this?
too busy-If it should seem so, impute my zeal   Lew. That Beverley's a poor man with a rich
to friendship, that meant to guard you against friend; that's all.
evil tongues. Your Beverley is wronged, slander-   Stuke. Your words would mean something, I
ed most vilely-My life upon-his truth.       suppose. Another time, Sir, I shall desire an exMrs. B. And mine too. Who is't that doubts planation.
it? but no matter- -I am prepared, Sir- Yet   Lew. And why not now? I am no dealer in
why this caution?- -You are my husband's friend; long sentences. A minute or two will do for me.
I think you mine too; the common friend of both.   Stuke. But not for me, Sir.-I am slow of ap[Pauses.] I had been unconcerned else.       prehension, and must have time and privacy. A
Stuke. For Heaven's sake, Madam, be so still! lady's presence engages my attention. Another
1 meant to guard you against suspicion, not to morning I may be found at home.
alarm it.                                      Lew. Another morning, then, I'll wait upon you.
MIrs. B. Nor have you, Sir. Who told you   Stuke. I shall expect you, Sir. Madam, your
cf suspicion?  [ have a heart it cannot reach.   servant.                        [Exit
VOL. I.... 3 0         40*




474                           THE  GAM-ESTE R.                                  [,AC'IL,
Char. What mean you by this.              folly and my own wisdom. To what use is wisLew. To hint to him that I know him.       dom, but to take advantage of the weak?  This
Char. How know him? Mere doubt and sup- Beverley's my fool; I cheat him, and he calls me
position!                                    friend. But more business must be done yet.
Lew. I shall have proof soon.              His wife's jewels are unsold: so is the reversion
Char. And what then' Would you risk your ofhis uncle's estate. I-must have these too. And
life to be his punisher?                    then there's. a. treasure above all-I love his wife.
Lew. My life, Madam! Don't be afraid. But Before she knew this Beverley I loved her; but,
let it content you that I know this Stukely.-  like a cringing fool, bowed at a distance, while he'Twould be as easy to make him honest as brave. stepped in and won her-Never, never, will 1
Char. And what do you intend to do'      forgive him for it. Those hints, this morning,
Lew. Nothing, till I have proof. But methinks, were well thrown in-Already they have fastened
Madam, 1 am  acting here without authority. on her. If jealousy should weaken her affections,
Could I have leave to call Mr. Beverley brother, want may corrupt her virtue-These jewels may
his concerns would be my own. Why will you do much. He shall demand them of her: which,
make my services appear officious?          when mine, shall be converted to special purposes.
Char. You know my reasons, and should not
press me. But I am cold, you say; and cold I                Enter BATES.
will be, while a poor sister's destitute.-But let What now, Bates?
us change this subject: your business here this   Bates. Is it a wonder then to see me?'  The
morning is with my sister. Misfortunes press too forces are all in readiness, and only wait for orders.
hard upon her; yet, till to-day, she has borne them  Where's Beverley?
nobly.                                         Stuke. At last night's rendezvous, waiting for
Lew. Where is she'                       me. Is Dawson with you'
Char. Gone to her chamber. Her spirits failed   Bates. Dressed like a nobleman; with money
her.                                        in his pocket, and a set of dice that shall deceive
Lew. I hear her coming. Let what has passed the devil.
with Stukely be a secret.-She has already too   Stuke. That fellow has ahead to undo a nation:
much to trouble her.                         but for the rest, they are such low-mannered, illEnter MRS. BEVERLEY.              looking dogs, I wonder Beverley has not suspected them.
Mrs. B. Good morning, Sir; I heard your voice,   Bates. No matter for manners and looks. Do
and, as I thought, inquiring for me. Where's you supply them with money, and they are genMr. Stukely, Charlotte.  tlemen by profession. The passion of gaming
Char. This moment gone. You have been in casts such a mist before the eyes, that the nobleman
tears, sister; but here's a friend shall comfort you. shall be surrounded with sharpers, and imagine
Lew. Or, if I add to your distresses, I'll beg himself in the best company.
your pardon,- Madam. The sale of your house   Stuke. There's that Williams, too-It was he,
and furniture was finished yesterday.       I suppose, that called at Beverley's, with the note,
Mrs. B. I know it, Sir. I know too your ge- this morning. What directions did you give him'?
nerous reason for putting me in mind of it. But   Bates. To knock loud, and be clamorous.
you have obliged me too much already.        Did not you see him' 
Lew. There are trifles, Madam, which I know    Stukes. No; the fool sneaked off with Jarvis.
you have seta value on: those I have purchased, and  Had he appeared within doors, as directed, the
will deliver; I have a friend too that esteems you. note had been discharged. I waited there on purHe has bought largely; and will call nothing his, pose. I want the women to think well of me;
till he has seen you. If a visit to him would not for Lewson's grown suspicious.-He told me so
be painful, he has begged it maybe this morning. himself
MIrs. B. Not painful in the least: my pain is   Bates. What answer did you make him q
from the kindness of my friends. Why am I to   Stuke. A short one;-that I would see him
be obliged beyond the power of return?     soon, for further explanation.
Lew. You shall repay us at your own time. I   Bates. We must take care of him. But what
have a coach waiting at the door. Shall we have have we to do with Beverley'-Dawson and the
your company, Madam?      [To CHARLOTTE. rest are wondering at you.
Char. No: my brother may return soon. I'll   Stuke. Why, let them wonder: I have designs
stay and receive him.                       above their narrow reach. They see me lend
Mrs. B. He may want a comforter, perhaps. him money, and they stare at me. But they are
But don't upbraid him, Charlotte. We sha'n't be fools. I want him to believe me beggared by him.
absent -long. Come, Sir, Since I must be so   Bates. And what then.
obliged.                                       Stuke. Ay, there's the question; but no matLew.'Tis I that am obliged. An hour, or less, ter: at night you may know more. He waits for
will be sufficient for us. We shall find you at me at Wilson's.-I told the women where to find
home, Madam'                               him.
[ To CHARLOTTE; exit with MRS. B.   Bates. To what purpose?
Char. Certainly.                   [Exit.   Stuke. To save suspicion. It looked friendly
SCENE II.-STUKErL.'S Lodgings.         and they thanked me.-Old Jarvis was despatchej
to him.
Enter STUKELY.
Bates. And may entreat him homeStuke. That Lewson suspects me,'tls too plain.   Stuke. No; he expects money from me, but I'll
Yet why should he suspect me'  I appear the have none. His wife's jewels must go.-Women
friend of Beverley, as much as he. But I am  are easy creatures, and refuse nothing where they
rich, it seems, and so I am;-thanks to another's love. Follow to Wilson's-Come, Sir.




SaENEi L]                    T:H E GAM E STE R.                                   475
Let drudging: fools by honesty grow great;   Jar. And why not now? -Rude people, press
The shorter road to riches is deceit. [Exeunt. upon her; loud bawling creditors; wretches who
know no pity. I met one at the door; he would
ACT II.                    have seen my mistress. I wanted means of preSC~ENE -:LA Ga~mitng-house, wit~h a Tab~le,  sent payment, so promised it to-morrow. But
-C i Box, Dice, ic t   h a Tables  others may be pressing; and she has grief enough
-   I, Dice, ~c.          already. Your absence hangs too heavy on her.
BEVERLEY discovered, sitting.          Bev. Tell her I'll come then. I have a: moBev. Why, what a world is this! The slave ment's. business. But what hast thou to do with
that digs for gold receives his daily pittance, and my distresses'. thy honesty has left thee poor.
sleeps contented; while those, for whom he la- and age wants comfort.-Keep what thou hast;
bours, convert their good to mischief, making lest, between thee and the grave, misery steal in.
abundance the means of want. What had I to I have a friend shall counsel me.-This is that
do with play! I wanted nothing.-lMy wishes friend.
and my means were equal.-The poor followed
me with blessing, love scattered roses on my pillow, and morning waked me to delight. Oh, bit-   Stuke. How fares it, Beverley?  Honest Mr.
ter thought, that leads to what I was, by what I Jarvis, well met. That viper, Williams! was it
am! I would forget both.-Who's there?      not he that troubled you this morning?
Jar. My mistress heard him, then; I am sorry
Enter a WAITER.                that she heard him.
Wait. A gentleman, Sir, inquires for you.   Bev. And Jarvis promised payment.
Bev. He might have, used less ceremony.   Stuke. That must not be.-Tell him P11 satisfy
Stukely:, I suppose?                        him.
Wait. No, Sir, a stranger.                   Jar. Will you, Sir 1 Heaven will reward you
Bev. Well, show him in. [Exit WAITER.] A  for it.
messenger from. Stukeley, then; from him that   Bev. Generous Stukely! Friendship like yours,
has undone me! yet all in friendship-And now  had it ability like will, would more than balance
he lends me his little, to bring back fortune to me. the wrongs of fortune.
nStuke. You: think too kindly of me.-Make
Enter JARvis..   haste to Williams; his. clamours may be rude
Jarvis!-Why this intrusion?-Your absence else.                             [To JARvIS.
had been kinder.                               Jar. And my master will go home again.Jar. I came in duty, Sir. If it be troublesome-  Alas! Sir, we know of hearts there breaking for
Bev. It is. I would be private-hid even from  his absence.                      [Exit
myself. Who sent you hither2?                 Bev. Would I were dead!
Jar. One that would persuade you home again.   Stuke. Ha, ha, ha! Pr'ythee, be a man, and
My mistress is not well  her tears told me so.   leave dying to disease and old age.-Fortune may
Bev. Go with thy duty there then.-Pr'ythee be: ours again; at least we'll try for't.
begone; I have no business for thee.: Bev. No; it has fooled us on too far.
Jar. Yes, Sir; to lead you from this place. I   Stuke. Ay, ruined us; and therefore we'll sit
am your servant still. Your prosperous fortune down contented. These are the despondings of
blessed my old age. If that has left you, I must men without money; but let the shining ore
not leave you.                              chink in the pocket, and folly turns to wisdom.
Bev. Not leave me!-Recall past time then; We are fortune's children.-True, she's a fickle
or, through this sea of storms and darkness, show  mother; but shall we droop because she's peeme a star to guide me.-But what canst thou?   vish? —No; she has smiles in store, and these
Jar. The little that 1 can, I will. You have been her frowns are meant to brighten them.
generous to me-I would not offend you, Sir, but —   Bev. Is this a time for levity?-But you are
Bev. No: think'st thou I'd ruin thee, too   I single in the ruin, and therefore may talk lightly
have enough of shame already.-My wife! my of it; with me'tis complicated misery.
wife!-Wouldst thou believe it, Jarvis? I have   Stuke. You censure me unjustly; I but asnot seen her all this long night-I, who have sumed these spirits to cheer my friend: Heaven
loved' her so, that every hour of absence seemed knows, he wants a comforter.
as. a gap in life. But-other —bonds have held me. —   Bev. What new misfortune?
Oh!. -I have played the. boy! dropping my count-   Stuke. I would have brought you money; but
ers in the stream, and reaching to redeem them, lenders want securities. What's to be done?lost myself!                               All that-was mine is yours already.
Jar. For pity's sake, Sir -     have no heart   Bev. And there's the double weight that sinks
to see this change.              -           me. I have undone my friend too; one who, to save
Bev. Nor I to bear it.-How  speaks the a drowning wretch, reached out his hand, and peworld of me, Jarvis?                        rished with him.
Jar. As of a good man dead. Of one who,   Stuke. Have better thoughts.
walking in a dream, fell-down a precipice. The  RBev. Whence are they to proceed! I have noworld is sorry for you..                    thing left.
Bev. Ay,'and pities me-Says it- not so'l:But. -Stuke. [Sighing.] Then we're indeed undone.
I was born to infamy. I'll tell thee what it says. What, nothing? no moveables, nor useless trin-It calls me villain;  a treacherous husband; a ketsh? -baubles locked up in caskets to starve their
cruel father; a false brother;: one lost to nature owners'-I have ventured deeply for you.
and -her charities: or,- to say all in "one short   R Bev. Therefore this heart-ache; for I am lost
word, it calls me-gamester. Go to thy mistress, Beyond all hope.
I'll see her presently.                        Stuke. No; means may be found to save us,




476                          THE  GAMESTER.'[ACT II
Jarvis is rich.-Who made him so?  This is no We meet to-night upon this spot.-Hasten, and
time for ceremony.                          tell themrn.-Hasten, I say, the rogues will scatter
Bev. And is it for dishonesty? The good old else.
man! Shall I rob him too?  My friend would   Bates. Not till their leader bids them.
grieve for't. No; let the little that he has buy   Sluke. Give them the word, and follow me; I
food and clothing for him.                   must advise with you-This is a day of business.
Stuke. Good morning, then.        [Going.                                    [Exeunt.
Bev. So hasty! Why then, good morning.
Stuke. And when we meet again, upbraid me.        ENE IIBEVERLEY'S Lodgings.
Say it was I that tempted you. Tell Lewson so;     Enter BEVERLEY and CHARLOTTE.
and tell him I have wronged you. He has sus-   Char. Your looks are changed too; there's
picions of me, and will thank you.          wildness in them. My wretched sister! How will
Bev. No; we have been companions in a rash it grieve her to see you thus!
voyage, and the same storm has wrecked us both.   Besv. No, no; a little rest will ease me. And
Mine shall be self-upbraidings.             for your Lewson's kindness to her, it has my
Stuke. And will they feed us?  You deal un- thanks; I have no more to give him.
kindly by me. I have sold and borrowed for you    Char. Yes: a sister and her fortune. I trifle
while land or credit lasted; and now, when for- with him, and he complains.-My looks, he says,
tune should be tried, and my heart whispers me are cold upon him. He thinks toosuccess, I am deserted, turned loose to beggary,   Bev. That I have lost your fortune. —He dares
while you have hoards.                      not think so.
Bev. What hoards. Name them, and take them.   Char. Nor does he. You are too quick at
Stuke. Jewels.                            guessing.  He cares not if you had. That care
Bev. And shall this thriftless hand seize them  is mine. I lent it you to husband, and now I
too? My poor, poor wife! must she lose all  I claim it.
would not wound her so.                       Bev. You have suspicions, then?
Stuke. Nor I, but from necessity. One effort   Char. Cure them, and give it me.
more, and fortune may grow kind. I have un-   Bev. To stop a sister's chiding?
usual hopes.                                   Char; To vindicate her brother.
Bev. Think of some other means, then.       Bev. How if it needs no vindication?
Stuke. I have, and you rejected them.        Char. I would fain hope so.
Bev. Pr'ythee, let me be a man.             Bev. Ay, would and cannot, Leave it to time,
Stuke. Ay, and your friend a poor one: but I then;'twill satisfy all doubts.
have done. And, for those trinkets of a woman,   Char. Mine are already satisfied.
why, let her keep them to deck out pride with,   Bev.'Tis well. And when the subject is reand show a laughing world that she has finery to newed, speak to me like a sister, and I will answer
starve in.                                  like a brother.
Bev. No; she shall yield him up all: my friend    Char. To tell me I'm a beggar. Why, tell it
demands it. But need we have talked lightly of now. T, that can bear the ruin of those dearer to
her?  The jewels that she values are truth and me,-the ruin of a sister and her infant, can bear
innocence.-Those will adorn her for'ever; and, that too.
for the rest, she wore them for a husband's pride,   Bev. No more of this-you ring my heart.
and to his wants will give them. Alas! you    Char. Would that the misery were all your
know her not. Where shall we meet?         own! But innocence must suffer. Unthinking
Stuke. No matter; I have changed my mind. rioter! whose home was heaven to him! an angel
Leave me to a prison;'tis the reward of friendship. dwelt there, and a little cherub, that crowned his
Bev. Perish mankind first! Leave you to a days with blessings. How has helost this heaven,
prison! No! fallen as you see me, I'm not that to league with devils!
wretch: nor would 1 change this heart, o'ercharged  RBev. Forbear, I say; reproaches come too late;
as'tis with folly and misfortune, for one most -they search, but cure not. And, for the fortune
prudent and most happy, if callous to a friend's you demand, we'll talk to-morrow on't-our temdistress.                                   pers may be milder.
Stuke. You are too warm.                    Char. Or, if'tis gone, why farewell all. I
Bev. In such a cause, not'to be warm is to be claimed it for a sister. But I'll upbraid no more.
frozen. Farewell.-I'll meet you at your lodgings. What heaven permits, perhaps it may ordain.
Stuke. Reflectalittle.-The jewelsmay belost. Yet, that the husband, father, brother, should be
-Better not hazard them.-I was too pressing.  its instruments of vengeance! —'Tis grievous to
Bev. And I ungrateful. —Reflection takes up know that.
time. I have no leisure for't.-Within an hour   Bev. If you are my sister, spare the rememexpect me.                           [Exit. brance-it wounds too deeply.. To-morrow shall
Stuke. The thoughtless, shallow prodigal! We clear all; and when the worst is known, it may
shall have sport at night, then-but hold-The  be better than your fears. Comfort my wife; and
jewels are not ours yet.-The lady may refuse for the pains of absence, I'll make atonement.
dhem.-The husband may relent too.'Tis more    Char. See where she comes!-Look cheerfully
than probable.-I'll write a note to Beverley, and upon her. Affections such as hers are prying,
the contents shall spur him to demand them.- and lend those eyes that read the soul.
But am I grown this rogue through avarice 1 No;
1 have warmer motives, love and revenge.-Ruin    Enter MRS. BEVERLEY and LEWSON.
the husband, and the wife's virtue may be bid for.   Mrs. B. My life!
Bev. My love! how fares it? I' have been a
Enter BATES.                 truant husband.
Lsook to your men, Bates; there's money stirring.   Mlrs. B. But we meet now, and that heals all.




.SCENE II.]                   T H E  G AM E S T E R.                              477
-Doubts and alarms have I had, but in this dear absence, but to be bless'd with your return. But
embrace I bury and forget them. My friend here be resigned to what has happened, and I am rich
[Pointing to LEWSON.] has been indeed a friend. beyond the dreams of avarice.
Charlotte,'tis you must thank him: your bro-   Bev. My generous girl!-But memory will be
ther's thanks and mine are of too little value.  busy; still crowding on my thoughts, to sour the
Bev. Yet what we have we'll pay. I thank present by the past. I have another pang, too.
you, Sir, and am obliged. I would say more, but   M}Irs. B. Tell it, and let me cure it.
that your goodness to the wife upbraids the hus-   Bev. That friend, that generous friend, whose
band's follies. Had I been wise, she had not tres- fame they have traduced-I have undone him too.
passed on your bounty.                       While he had means, he lent me largely; and now
Lew. Nor has she trespassed.  The little I a prison must be his portion.
have done acceptance overpays.                MlIrs. B. No; I hope otherwise.
Char. So friendship thinks-                 Bev. To hope must be to act. The charitable
Mrs. B. And doubles obligations, by striving wish feeds not the hungry.-Something must be,
to conceal them.-We'll talk another time on't. done.
You are too thoughtful, love.                 Mrs. B. What?
Bev. No, I have reason for these thoughts.  Bev. In bitterness of heart he told me, just now
Char. And hatred for the cause.-'Would you he told me, I had undone him. Could I hear
had that too!                              that, and think of happiness! No; I have disBev. I have.-The cause was avarice..  claimed it, while he is miserable.
Char. And who the tempter.                  Mrs. B. The world may mend with us, and
Bev. A ruined friend;-ruined by too much then we may be grateful. There's comfort in
kindness.                                   that hope.
Lew. Ay, worse than ruined; stabbed in his   Bev. Ay,'tis the sick man's cordial, his profame, mortally stabbed. Riches can't cure him.  mised cure; while, in preparing it, the patient
Bev. Or if they could, those I have drained dies.-What now -;
him  of-Something of this he hinted in the
morning.-That Lewson had suspicions of him. —
Why these suspicions?            [Angrily.   Lucy. A letter, Sir. [Delivering it, and exit.
Lew. At school we knew this Stukely. A    Bev. The hand is Stukely's.
cunning, plodding boy he was, sordid and cruel,          [Opens it, and reads it to himself.
slow at his task, but quick at shifts and tricking.   Mirs. B. And brings good news-at least I
He schemed out mischief, that others might be hope so. What says he, love?
punished; and would tell his tale with so much   Bev. Why this-too much for patience. Yet
art, that for the lash he merited, rewards and he directs me to conceal it from you. [Reads.]
praise were given him. Show me a boy with Let your haste to see me be the only proof of your
such a mind, and time, that ripens manhood in esteem for me. I have determined, since we
hinm, shall ripen vice too. -I'll prove him, and parted, to bid adieu to England: choosing rather
lay him open to you:-till then, be warned. I to forsake my country, than owe my freedom in
know him, and therefore shun him.           it to the means we talked of: Keep this a secret
Bev. As I would those that wrong him. You at home, and hasten to the ruined
are too busy, Sir.                                                        R. STUKELY.
Mrs. B. No, not too busy. Mistaken, perhaps. Ruined by friendship! I must relieve or follow him.
-That had been milder.                        Mrs. B. Follow him, did you say? Then I am
Lew. No matter, Madam. I can bear this, and lost indeed!
praise'the heart that prompts it.  Pity such   Bev. 0 this infernal vice! how has it sunk
friendship should be so placed!            me! a vice, whose highest joy was poor to my
Bev: Again, Sir! but I'll bear too.  You domestic happiness.   et how have I pursued it I
wrong him, Lewson, and will be sorry for it.    turned all my comforts to bitterest pangs, and all
Char. Ay, when'tis proved he wrongs him. my smiles to tears! Damned, damned infatuation I
The world is full of hypocrites.              Mrs. B. Be cool, my life! What are the means
Bev. And Stukely one,-so you would infer, the letter talks of?  Have you-have I, those
I think. I'll hear no more of this; my heart means   Tell me, and ease me. I have no life
aches for him. i have undone him.           while you are wretched.
Lew. The world says otherwise.              Bev. No, no; it must not be.'Tis I alone have
Bev. The world-is false then.-I' have business sinned;'tis I alone must suffer. You shall rewith you, love. [to  MRS. B.] We'll leave them  serve those means to keep my child and his
to their rancour.                  [Going. wronged mother from want and wretchedness.
Char. No; we shall find room within for't.-  MIrs. B. What means?
Come this way, Sir.           [ To LEWSON.   Bev. I came to rob you of them-but cannotLew. Another time my friend will thank me; dare not. Those jewels are your sole support. I
that time is hastening too.                 should be more than monster to request them.
[Exit LEW. and CHAR.   Mrs. B. My jewels! Trifles, not worth speakBev. They hurt me beyond bearing.'Is Stuke- ing of, if weighed against a husband's peace: but
1 false?  Then honesty has left us.'Twere let them purchase that, and the world's wealth is
iinning against Heaven to think so.         of less value.
lAirs. B. I never doubted him.              Bev. How little do I seem before such virtues I
Bea. No; you are charity. Meekness and ever-   Mrs. B. No more, my love. I kept them till
during patience live in that heart, and love that occasion called to use them; now is the occasion,
knows no change. Why did I ruin you?       and I'll resign them cheerfully.
MArs. B. You have not ruined me. I have no   Bev. Why, we'll be rich in love then. But
wants when you are present, nor wishes in your this excess of kindness melts me. Yet, for




478                            THE GAMEST E R.                                   [Acr m.
friend, one would do much. He has. denied me   *Bey. No: these shall guard you from them —
nlothing.                                     [Ofering notes.. Take themiand use them cauMrs. B. Come to my closet. But let him ma- tiously-The world deals hardly by us.
nage wisely.  We have no more to give him. -: Ske,  And1shall-Ileave you destitute?  No:
Rev. Where learned my love this excellence? your wants are;the greatest. Another climate
-'Tis Heaven's own teaching: that Heaven, may treat me kinder.:The shelter of to-night
which to an angel's form'has given a mind more takes me from this..ovely. I am unworthy of you, but will deserve:  Bev. Let:these be your support then.-Yet is
you better.                                   there need of parting 1I may- have means again;
Henceforth my follies and neglects shall cease, we'll share them, and live wisely.
And all to come be penitence and peace;.St:ke.:No; -I should tempt you on. Habit is
Vice shall no more attract-me with her charms, nature in me; ruin can't cuare it. Even now:l1
Nor pleasure reach.me, but in these- dear arms. would be gaming. Taught by experience as I
[Exeunt. am, and knowing this poor sum is all that's left
ACT III.               -     us, I am for- venturing still.-And say I am to
SCENE I.-STUKELY's Lodgings.            blame.-Yet will this supply-our wants?  No, we
~E~nter STUKELY and BATES.          fmust put it out to: usury. Whether'tis madness
Stuke. So runs the world,: Bates.' Fools are in me,-orsome restless impulse-of good fortune, I
yet am ignorant; butthe natural preyvof knaves: nature-designed them  yet am iorant; but-               -
Bev. Take it,'and succeed then. I'll try no
so, when she made lambs'for wolves.  The laws,
that fear and policy have framed, nature disclaims;   Stuk more.ads so strongly
sk  bStuke.'Tis-surely-impulse; it pleads so strongly
ng.he k    nobler law is fo   but then thoer e sand cu- -But you are cold. We'll e'en part here-then.
ning. The nobler law is force, but then there   And -forthis last ~reserve,:keep it:for better' uses;
danger in't: while cunning, like a skilful miner, I'll have  none on't. rIthank yeu though, andwill
I'll have none on't; - I thank you' though, and will
works safely and unseen.                              us
seek fortune singly. One thing I had forgotBates. And therefore wisely. Force must have  Be.          ne thhad forgotnerves and sinews.; cunning -wants neither. The 
dwarf that has it shall trip the giant's heels up.haps'twere best forgotten. But I
- Stuke. And bind him to the ground.' Why, am open in my nature, and zealous for the honour
we'll erect a shrine for nature, and be her oracles. of my friend-Lewson speaks frely of you.
Bev' Of you I know he does.
Conscience is weakness; fear made it, and fear
maintains it. The dread of shame, inward re-    tuke. I can forgive him for't; but for my
proaches, and fictitious burnings, swell out the friend, I'm angry.
Bev. What says'he of me'?
phantom. Nature knows none of this; her laws      ev. What sayshe of me
-are freedom                                    Stuke. That Charlotte's fortune is embezzledHe talks on't loudly.
Bates. Sound doctrine, and well delivered!    Be. e    shal l be siks on't loudly.
Stuke. We are sincere too, and practise what
we teach. Let the grave pedant say as much. you of it
Stuke. Frommany. He questioned Bates about
But now-to business:  The jewels are disposed    Stuke. Frommany. HequestionedBatesabou
of; and Beverley again worth money. If my de-    Be. Or hem with me —and soon too.
sign succeeds, this night we finish with him. Go    Stuke. Speak mildly to him. Cautions are best.
to your lodgings, and be busy.-You understand.   think on't-Bi t whither go you 
conveyances, and can make ruin sure.
conveyances and can make ruin sure.   Stuke. From poverty and prisons-No matter
Bates. Better stop here. The sale of this re-   tuke.From  poverty andrisons-No   matter
whither: If fortune-changes, you may hear from
version may be talked of: there's danger in it.   me
Stuke No,'tis the mark l aim at. We'll thrive
and laugh. You are the purchaser, and 7there's Bev. May these be prosperous then. [Offering
lhe notes, hich e notes. ]"Nay, they are yours.
the payment. [Giving a pocket-book.] He thinks the notes, whichhe refuses.] Nay, they are yours.
I have sworn it,            e  othi-Ta
you rich; and so you shall be. Inquire for titles,   have sworn itan  will have noting-Take
them and use them.
and deal hardly;'twill look like honesty.       tuwill                 My cares ar for my
Stuke. Singly Iwill not. My cares are for my
Bates. How, if he suspects us?                   nd
Stke. Leave it to me. I study hearts and friend: for his 0lost fortune and ruined family.
Stuke. Leave it to me. I study hearts, -and
~All separate.inte'rest l:disclaim.  Together'we
when to work upon them. Go to your.lodgings; All separate interest I disclaim.  Together we
and if we come, be busy over papers  Talk of a have fallen, together we must -rise. My heart,
and -if we come,-be busy over papers.: Talk of a
thoughtless age, of gaming and extravagance; my honour, and afietions, all will have it so.
Bev. I-am weary of being fooled.
Stuke. ~And so am I. Here'let us part, then.
Bates. A feeling too that would avoid it. - We
push too fiar; but I have cautioned: you. -If ~it -ends These bodings of good fortune shall all be stifled;
ill, you'll think of me-adieu.      - [Exit. call them folly, and forget them. This one emr
brace, and then farewell.  [ Offering to embrace.
&tuke. This fellow sins by: halves; his fears.Bey. No; stay a moment-How  my poor
are conscience to him. I'll-turn these fears to use.   e 
heart's distracted! I have the bodings -too; but
Rogues that dread shame, -will still be greater
rogues to hide the guilt. Lewson grows trouble- whether caught from you, or prompted by
good or evil genius, I know not-The trial shah
some.-We must get rid of him.-He knows too, 
determine —And yet, my wifemuch. I have a tale for Beverley; part of it is 
truth too-He shall call Lewson to account-If        e. Ay, ay, she'll chide.
it succeeds,'tis well; if not, we must try other  ev. No; my chidings are all here.
means-But here he comes. I must dissemble.
Stuke. I'll not persuade you.
Enter BF.VERL.EY.                 Bev. I am  persuaded; by reason too; the
Look to the door there. rIn a seemingfright.]-  strongest reason, necessity. Oh! could I but reMv friend! I thought of other visitors.      gain the height I have fallen from, Heaven should




SCENE It.]                    THE  GAMES T E R.                                    479
forsake me in my latest hour, if I again mixed in    Char. That I hate scandal, though a woman
these scenes, or sacrificed the husband's peace, his therefore talk seldom of you.
joys, and best affections, to avarice and infamy.  Mrs. B. Or, with more truth, that though a
Stuke. I have resolved like you; and since our woman, she loves to praise-therefore talks always
motives are so honest, why should we fear success 2 of you. I'll leave you to decide it.  [Exit.
Bev. Come on, then-Where shall we meet?.Lew. How good and amiable! I came to talk
Stuke. At Wilson's-Yet if it hurts you, leave in private with you, of matters that concern you.
me; I have misled you often.                   Char. What matters'
Bev. We have misled each other-But come!   Lew. First answer me sincerely to what I ask.
fortune is fickle, and may be tired with plaguing.  Char. Propose your question.
us-There let us rest our hopes.                Lew.'Tis now a tedious twelvemonth since
Stuke. Yet think a little-                 with an open and kind heart, you said you loved
Bev. I cannot —thinking but distracts me.    -me. And when, in consequence of such sweet
When desperation leads, all thoughts are vain.   words, I pressed for marriage, you gave a volunReason would lose what rashness may obtain.   tary promise that you would live for me.
[Exeunt.   Char. You thinkme changed~then? [Angrily.
SCE2NE I~I-BEVERLEY'S Lodgings.            Lew. I did not say so. Time and a near acquaintance with my faults, may have brought
Enter MRS. BEVERLEY and CHARLOTTE.    change. If it be so, or for a moment if you have
wished this promise were unmade, here I acquit
Char.'Twas all a scheme; a mean one; un- you of it. This is my question, then;, and with
worthy of my brother.                        such plainness as I ask it, I shall entreat an an
1l'rs. B. No, I am sure it was not —Stukely is swer.-Have you repented of your promise.
honest too; I know he is. This madness has   Char. Why am I doubted?
undone them both.                              Lew. My doubts are of myself. I have my
Char. My brother irrecoverably-You are -too faults, and you have observation. If, from my
spiritless a wife-A mournful bale, mixed with a temper, my words, or actions, you have conceived
few kind words, will steal away your soul. The a thought against me, or even a wish for separaworld's too subtle for such goodness. Had I been tion, all that has passed is nothing.
by, he should have asked your life sooner than    Char. Why, now  I'll answer you.  Your
those Jewels.                                doubts are prophecies. I am really changed.
Mrs. B. He should have had it then. [ WTarm-   Lew. Indeed!
ly.] I live but to oblige him. She who can love,   Char. I could torment you now, as you have
and is beloved, like me, will do as much. Men me, but itis not in my nature.-That Iam changed,
have done more for mistresses, and women for a I own, for what at first was inclination is now
base deluder; and shall a wife do less? Your grown reason in me; and from that reason, had 1
chidings hurt me, Charlotte.                 the world, nay, were I poorer than the poorest,
Char. And come too late: they might have and you too wanting bread, with but a hovel to
saved you else. How could he use you so?    invite me to-I would be yours, and happy.
Mrs. B.'Twas friendship did it. His heart  Lew. MykindestCharlotte! [ Takingherhand.]
was breaking for a friend.                   thanks are too poor for this-and words too weak!
Char. The friend that has betrayed him.   but, if we love so, why should our union be deMrs. B. Pr'ythee, don't think so.         layed 
Char. To-morrow he accounts with me.         Char. For happier times. The present are too
Mrs. B. And fairly-I will not doubt it.    wretched.
Char. Unless a friend has wanted! -I have   Lew. I may have reasons that press it now.
no patience-Sister! sister! we are bound to    Char.; What reasons?
curse this friend.                             Lew. The strongest reasons; unanswerable
Mrs. B. My Beverley speaks nobly of him.   ones.
Char. And Lewson truly-But I displease you    Char. Be quick, and name them.
with this talk-To-morrow will instruct us.     Lew. First promise, that, to-morrow or the
lMrs. B. Stay till it comes then-I would not next day, you will be mine -for ever.
think so hardly.                               Char. I do-though misery should succeed.
Char. Nor I, but from conviction   -Yet we   Lew. Thus then I seize you! and with you
have hope of better days. My uncle is infirm, every joy on this side heaven!
and of an age that threatens hourly-Or, if he    Char. Now, Sir, your secret.
lives, you never have offended him: and fbr dis-   Lew. Your fortune's lost.
tresses so unmerited he will have pity.        Char. My fortune lost! I'll study to be humble,
Mrs. B. I know it, and am cheerful. We have then. But was my promise claimed for this? how
no more to lose; and for what's gone, if it brings nobly generous! where learnt you this sad news?
prudence home, the purchase was well made.     Lew. From Bates, Stukely's prime agent. I
Char. My Lewson will be kind too. WVhile have obliged him, and he's grateful. He told it
he and I have life and means, you shall divide me in friendship, to warn me from my Charlotte.
with us-And see, he's here!                    Char.'Twas honest in him, and I'll esteem
Enter LEwsoN,                 him for it.
Lew. He knows much more than he has told.
We were just speaking of you.                  Char. For me it is enough. And for your geLew.'Tis best to interrupt you then. Few  nerous love, I thank you from my soul. If you'd
characters will bear a scrutiny; and where the oblige me more, give me a little time.
bad outweighs the good, he's safest that's least   Lew. Why time? it robs us of ouz happiness.
talked of. What say you, Madam?                Char. I have a task to learn first. The little
[ To CHARLOTTE. pride this: fortune gave me must be subdued. Once




480                          THE GAMESTER.                                    [ACT llwe were equal; and might have met, obliging hold of him.] Snow me the means to save me, or
and obliged. But now'tis otherwise; and for a I'll commit a murder here, and next upon myself
life of obligations, I have not learned to bear it.  Stuke. Why, do it then, and rid me of ingrati.
Lew. Mine is that life. You are too noble.   titude.
Char. Leave me to think on't.                Bev. Pr'ythee, forgive this language; I speak
Lew. To-morrow then you'll fix my happiness! I know not what. Rage and despair are in my
Char. All that I can, I will.              heart, and hurry me to madness, My home is
Lew. It must be so; we live but for each other. horror to me. I'll not return to't. Speak quickly;
Keep what you know a secret: and when we tell me if, in this wreck of fortune, one hope remeet to-morrow, more may be known. Farewell. mains' name it, and be my oracle.
[Exit.   Stuke. To vent your curses on. You have
Char. My poor, poor sister! how would this bestowed'em liberally. Take your own courbwound her! but I'll conceal it, and speak com- sel; and, should a desperate hope present itself
fort to her.                         [Exit.'twill suit your desperate fortune. I'll not advise
you.
SCENE III.-A Room in the Gaming House.   Bev. What hope'  by Heaven! I'll catch at it
Enter BEVERI,EY  and STUKELY.         however desperate.  I am sunk in misery; it
cannot lay me lower.
Bev. Whither would you lead me? [Angrily.   Stuke. You have an uncle.
Stuke. Where we may vent our curses.         Bev. Ay, what of him'
Bev. Ay, on yourself, and those damned coun-   Stuke. Old men live long by temperance, while
6els that have destroyed me. A thousand -fiends their heirs starve on expectation.
were in that bosom, and all let loose to tempt me-    Bev. What mean you?
I had resisted else.                           Stuke. That the reversion of his estate is yours,
Stuke. Go on, Sir.-I have deserved this from  and will bring money to pay debts with. Nay,
you.                                         more, it may retrieve what's past.
Bev. And curses everlasting- Time is too   Bev. Or leave my child a beggar.
scanty for them-                               Stuke. And what's his father'  a dishonourable
Stuke. What have I done'                   one; engaged for sums he cannot pay.  That
Bev. What the arch-devil of old did-soothed  should be thought of.
with false hopes, for certain ruin.            Bev. It is my shame-the poison that inflames
Stulke. Myself unhurt; nay, pleased at your me. Where shall we go?'  To whom'  I am
destruction.-So your words mean. Why, tell it impatient till all's lost.
to the world. I am too poor to find a friend in't.    Stuke. All may be yours again-Your man is
Bev. A friend' what's he! I had a friend.    Bates-He has large funds at his command, and
Stuke. And have one still.                will deal justly by you.
Bev. Ay; I'll tell you of this friend. He found    Bev. I am resolved. Tell'em within, we'll
me happiest of the happy. Fortune and honour meet'em  presently, and with full purses too.
crowned me, and love and peace lived in my heart. Come, follow me.
One spark of folly lurked there; that too he found;   Stuke. No; I'll have no hand in this, nor do I
and by deceitful breath blew it to flames that have counsel it. Use your discretion, and act from
consumed me. This fiiend were you to me.     that.  You'll find me at my lodgings.
S&uke. A little more, perhaps-The friend who    Rev. Succeed what will, this night I'll dare the
gave his all to save you; and, not succeeding,       worst;
chose ruin with you. But no matter; I have un-'Tis loss of fear to be completely curs'd.
done you, and am a villain.                                              [Exit BEVERLEY.
Bev. No; I think not-the villains are within.   Stuke. Why, lose it then for ever-Fear is the
Stuke. What villains?                     mind's worst evil, and'tis a friendly office to drive
Bev. Dawson and the rest. We have been it from the bosom. Thus far has fortune crowndupes to sharpers.                           ed me. Yet Beverley is rich; rich in his wife's
Stuke. How know you this'  I have had doubts best treasure, her honour and affections. I would
as well as you; yet still, as.fortune changed, I supplant him there too. Charlotte is sometimes
blushed at my own thoughts.-But you have absent. The seeds of jealousy are sown already.
proofs, perhaps'                            If I mistake not, they have taken root too. Now
Bev. Ay, damned ones. Repeated losses- is the time to ripen them, and reap the harvest.
night after night, and no reverse. Chance has no The softest of her sex, if wronged in love, or
hand in this.                                thinking that she's wronged, becomes a tigress in
Stuke. I think more charitably; yet 1 am pee- revenge. I'll instantly to Beverley's-No matter
vish in my nature, and apt to doubt. The world for the danger.  When beauty leads us on,'tis
speaks fairly of this Dawson; so does it of the indiscretion to reflect, and cowardice to doubt.
rest. We have watched'em closely too. But                                         [Exil'tis a right usurped by loosers, to think the winners knaves. We'll have more manhood in us.        CENE IV-:BEVERLEY         Lodgings.
Bev. I know not what to think. This night       Enter MRS. BEVERLEY and LucY.
has stung me to the quick-blasted my reputation    Mrs. B. Did Charlotte tell you any thing'
too-I have bound my honour to these vipers;   Lucy. No, Madam.
played meanly upon credit,'till I tired'em; and  Mirs. B. She looked confused, methought; said
now they shun me to rifle one another.'What's she had business with her Lewson; which, when
to be done'                                 I pressed to know, tears were her only answer.
Stuke. Nothing. My counsels have been fatal.   Lucy. She seemed inhaste too —Yet her return
Rev. By Heaven, I'll not survive this shame. may bring you comfort.
Traitor!'tis you have brought it on me. [ Taking    Mrs. B. No, my kind girl!-I was not born




CENE IL.]                     THE GAMESTER.                                        481
for't. But why do I distress thee?  Thy sym- But he shall find that injuries such as these can
pathizing heart bleeds for the ills of others. What arm my weakness for vengeance and redress.
pity that thy mistress can't reward thee! But   Stuke. Ha! then I may succeed. [Aside.]
there's a power above, that sees, and will remember Redress is in your power.
all. [Knocki?.g.] Hark! there's some one entering.   Mrs. B. What redress'
Lucy. Perhaps'tis my master, Madam.         Stuke. Forgive me, Madam, if, in my zeal to
[Exit. serve you, 1 hazard your displeasure. Think of
Re-ei:ler Lucy, with STUKELY.        your wretched state. Already, want surrounds
you. Is it in patience to bear that? To see your
Lucy. Mr. Stukely, Madam.          fExit. helpless little one robbed of his birthright! A
Stuke. To meet you thus alone, Madam, was sister too, with unavailing tears, lamenting her
what I wished. Unseasonable visits, when friend- lost fortune 1 No comfort left you, but ineffectual
ship warrants them, need no excuse-therefore I pity from the few, outweighed by insults from the
make none.                                   many.
Mrs. B. What mean you, Sir? and where's   Mrs. B. Am I so lost a creature?  Well, Sir,
your friend?                                my redress?
Stuke. Men may have secrets, Madam, which    Stuke. To be resolved is to secure it. The
their best friends are not admitted to. We parted marriage vow, once violated, is in the sight of
in the morning, not soon to meet again.      Heaven dissolved;-start not, but hear me.'Tis
Mirs. B. You mean to leave us, then'?-to leave now the summer of your youth; time has not
your country, too?  I am no stranger to your cropped the roses from your cheek, though sorrow
reasons, and pity your misfortunes.          long has washed'em-Then use your beauty
Stuke. Your pity has undone you. Could Be- wisely; and, freed by injuries, fly from the cruelverley do this' That letter was a false one; a lest of men, for shelter with the kindest.
mean contrivance to rob you of your jewels. I   Ml4Irs. B. And who is he?.
wrote it not.                                  Stuke. A friend to the unfortunate; a bold one,
_Mtrs. B. Impossible! whence came it then?    too; who, while the storm is bursting on your
Stuke. Wronged as I am, Madam, I must brow, and lightning flashing from your eyes, dares
speak plainly-                              tell you that he loves you.
Mrs. B. Do so, and ease, me. Your hints have   Mrs. B.'Would that these eyes had Heaven's
troubled me. Reports, you say, are stirring-Re- own lightning, that with a look thus I might blast
ports of whom?   You wished me not to credit thee! Am I then fallen so low? Has poverty so
them. What, Sir, are these reports?         humbled me, that I should listen to a hellish offer,
Stuke. I thought them slander, Madam; and and sell my soul for bread?  0 villain! villain!
cautioned you in friendship, lest from officious But now I know thee, and thank thee for the
tongues the tale had reached you with double ag- knowledge.
gravations.                                    Stuke. If you are wise, you shall have cause
Mrs. B. Proceed, Sir.                     to thank me.
Stuke. It is a debt due to my fame, due to an    Mrs. B. An injured husband, too, shall thank
inljured wife, too.-We are both injured.    thee.
iMrs. B. How injured, and who has injured us?   Stuke. Yet know, proud woman, I have a heart
Stuke. My friend, your husband.           as stubborn as your own; as haughty and impeAIMrs. B. You would resent for both, then? But rious: and as it loves, so it can hate.
know, Sir, my injuries are my own, and do not   Mrs. B. Mean, despicable villain! I scorn thee
need a champion,                             and thv threats. Was it fobr this that Beverley
Stuke. Be not too hasty, Madam. I come not was false! that his too credulous wife should in
in resentment, but for acquittance. You thought despair and vengeance give up her honour to a
me poor, and to the feigned distresses of a friend wretch?  But he shall know it, and vengeance
gave up your jewels.                         shall be his.
fIrs. B. I gave them to a husband.          Stuke. Why, send him for defiance then. Tell
Stuke. Who gave them to a-                him, I love his wife; but that a worthless husband
Afrs. B. What? whom did he give them to?  forbids our union. I'll make a widow of you, and
Str'ke. A mistress.                       court you honourably.
Mrs. R. No; on my life, he did not.         Mrs. B. 0 coward! coward! thy soul will
Stuke Himself confessed it, with curses on shrink at him. Yet, in the thoughts of what may
her avarice.                                 happen, I feel a woman's fears. Keep thy own
Mrs. B  I'll not believe it.-He has no mis- secret, and begone. [Rings a bell.] Who's there?
tress; or, if he has, why is it told to me? 
Stuke. To guard you against insults. He told               Enter Lucy.
me, that, to move you to a compliance, he forged Your absence, Sir, will please me.
that letter, pretending I was ruined, ruined by him    Stuke. I'll not offend you, Madam.
too. The fraud succeeded: and what a trusting                           [Exit with Lucy.
wife bestowed on pity, was lavished on a wanton.   Mrs. B. Why opens not the earth to swallow.17's. B. Then I am lost indeed! and  my af- such a monster? Be conscience then his punisher,
fictions are too powerful for me.-His follies I have till Heaven, in mercy, gives him penitence, or
borne without upbraiding, and saw the approach dooms him in its justice.          [Exit.
of poverty without a tear.-My affections, my
strong affections, supported me through every trial.
Stuke. Be patient, Madam.                       SCENE I.-STUKELY'S Lodgings.
Mrs B. Patient! the barbarous, ungrateful      Enter STUKELY and BATES meetings
man! And does he think that the tenderness of
my' heart is his best security for wounding it?   Bates. Where have you been?
VOL. I....3 P           41




482                          THE GAMESTER.                                    [ACT Iv
Stuke. Fooling my time away-Playing my cense of your tongue; for know, Sir, while there
tricks, like a tame monkey, to entertain a woman are laws, this outrage on my reputation will not
-No matter where-I have been vexed and dis- be borne with.
appointed. Tell me of Beverley-How bore he   Lew. Laws! dar'st thou seek shelter from the
his last shock?                             laws? those laws, which thou and thy infernal
Bates. Like one (so Dawson says) whose senses crew live in the constant violation of? Talk'st thou
had been numbed with misery. When all was of reputation, tool. when under friendship's salost, he fixed his eyes upon the ground, and stood cred name, thou hast betrayed, robbed, and dessome time with folded arms, stupid and motionless. troyed 1
-Then, snatching his sword, that hung against   Stuke. Ay, rail at gaming;'tis a rich topic, and
the wainscot, he sat him down, and, with a look affords noble declamation. Go preach against it
of fixed attention, drew figures on the floor.-At in the city; you'll find a congregation in every
last he started up, looked wild, and trembled; and tavern. If they should laugh at you, fly to my
like a woman, seized with her sex's fits, laughed lord, and sermonize it there. He'll thank you,
out aloud, while the tears trickled down his face-  and reform.
so left the room.                              Lew. And will example sanctify a vice? no,
Stuke. W-hy this was madness.             wretch! the custom of my lord, or of the cit that
Bates. The madness of despair.            apes him, cannot excuse a breach of law, or make
Stuke. We must confine him then. A prison the gamester's calling reputable.
would do well. [A knocking at the door.] Hark!   Stuke. Rail on, I say.-But is this zeal for begthat knocking may be his. Go that way down. gared Beverley? Is it for him that I am treated,[Exit BATEs.] Who's there?                 thus? No! he and his wife might both have
groaned in prison, had but the sister's fortune escaped the wreck, to have rewarded the disinterLew. An enemy, an open and avowed one.    ested love of honest Mr. Lewson.
Stuke. Why am I thus broke in upon?  This   Lew. How do I detest thee for the thought!
house is mine, Sir, and should protect me from  But thou art lost to every human feeling. Yet let
insult and ill manners.                      me tell thee, and may it wring thy heart, that,
Lew. Guilt has no place of sanctuary: where- though my friend is ruined by thy snares, thou
ever found,'tis virtue's lawful game. The fox's hast unknowingly been kind to me.
hole and tiger's den are no security against the   Stuke. Have I? It was, indeed, unknowingly.
hunter.                                        Lew. Thou hast assisted me in love; given me
Stuke. Your business, Sir?                that merit that I wanted; since but for thee, my
Lew. To tell you that I know you. Why this Charlotte had not known'twas her dear self I
confusion? that look of guilt and terror?-Is Be- sighed for, and not her fortune.
verley awake? Or has his wife told tales?  The    Stuke. Thank me, and take her then.
man that dares like you, should have a soul to   Lew. And as a brother to poor Beverley, I will
justify his deeds, and courage to confront accusers, pursue the robber that has stripped him, and snatch
— not with a coward's fear to shrink beneath re- him from his gripe.
proof.                                         Stuke. Then know, imprudentman, heis within
Stuke. Who waits there 1                  my gripe; and should my friendship for him be
[Aloud, and in confusion. slandered once again, the hand that has supplied
Lew. By Heaven! he dies that interrupts us. him shall fall and crush him.
[Shutting the door.] You should have weighed    Lew. Why, now there's spirit in thee; this is
your strength, Sir: and then, instead of climbing indeed to be a villain! But I shall reach thee yet.
to high fortune, the world had marked you for -Fly where thou wilt, my vengeance shall purwhat you are, a little paltry villain.       sue thee.-And Beverley shall yet be saved; be
Stuke. You think I fear you.              saved from thee, thou monster I nor owe his resLew. I know you fear me. This is to prove it. cue to his wife's dishonour.      [Exit.
[Pulls him by the sleeve.] You wanted privacy!   Stuke. [Pausing.] Then ruin has inclosed
A lady's presence took up your attention! Now  me. Curse on, my coward heart!  I would be
we are alone, Sir. Why, what a wretch! [Flings bravely villanous; but'tis my nature to shrink at
him from him.] The vilest insect in creation will danger, and he has found me. Yet fear brings
turn when trampled on; yet has this thing undone caution, and that security-More mischief must
a man! By cunning and mean arts undone him! be done to hide the past. Look to yourself, ofliBut we have found you, Sir; traced you through  ciousLewson-theremaybedangerstirring. How
all your labyrinths. If you would save yourself, now, Bates 1
fall to confession. No mercy will be shown else.            Enter BATES.
Stuke. First prove me what you think me.Till then your threatenings are in vain,-and for   Bates. What is the matter'Twas Lewson,
this insult vengeance may yet be mine.      and not Beverley, that left you-I heard him
Lew. Infamous coward! why take it now, loud-You seem alarmed too.
then.-[Draws, and STUKELY retires.] Alas! I   Stuke. Ay, and with reason-we are discovered.
pity thee.-Yet that a wretch like this should    Bates. I feared as much, and therefore cautionovercome a Beverley! It fills me with astonish- ed you-but you were peremptory.
ment!-A  wretch, so mean of soul, that even    Stuke. Thus fools talk ever; spending their idle
desperation cannot animate him to look upon his breath on what is past, and trembling at the fuenemy. You should not have thus soared, Sir, ture. We must be active. Beverley, at worst, is
unless, like others of your black profession, you but suspicious; but Lewson's genius, and his hate
had a sword to keep the fools in awe your villany to me, will lay all open. Means must be found to
has ruined.                                 stop him.
S.uke. Villany!'Twere best to curb this li-   Bates. What meansl




CEmN II.]                     T-H E  G'A M ES T E R.                               483
Stuke. Despatch him. Nay, start not; despe- high demeanour, that was to call me to account I
rate occasions call for desperate deeds. We live You say, I have wronged my sister. -Now say
but by his death.                            as much. But, first be'ready for defence, as I am
Bates. You cannot mean it?                for resentment.                      [Draws.
Stuke. I do, by Heaven.                      Lew. What mean you? I understand you not.
Bates. Good night, then.          [Going.   Bev. The coward's stale acquaintance! -who,
Stuuke. Stay-I must be heard, then answered'. when he spreads foul calumny abroad, and- dreads
Perhaps the motion was: too sudden, and human  just vengeance on him, cries out,"-What mean
weakness starts at murder, though strong neces- you?  I understand you not."
sity compels it. I have thought long of this, and    Lew. Coward and calumny! - Whence are
my first feelings were like yours,;'a foolishconns'ci- those:words? But I forgive and pity you.
ence awed me, whichsoon I conquered. The man    Bev. Your pity had been kinder to my fame:
that would und(o me, nature: cries out, undo. but you have traduced it; told -a vile story to the
Brutes know their foes by instinct; and where public ear, that I have wronged my sister.
superior force is- given, they use it for destruction.   Lew.'Tis false!: Show me: the man thatdares
Shall man do less  Lewson pursues us to our accuse me.
ruin; and shall we, with the means to crush him,   Bev. I thought you brave, arid of a soul supefly from our hunter, or turn and tear him?'Tis rior to low malice; but I have found you, and
folly even to hesitate.                      will have vengeance. This is no place for arguBates. He has obliged me, and I dare not.  ment.
Stuke. Why, live to shame, then, to beggary    Lew. Nor shall it be for violence.: Imprudent
and punishment. You would be privy to the deed; man! who, in revenge for fancied injuries, would
yet want the soul to act it. Nay more; had my pierce the heart that loves him! But honest
designs been levelled at his fortune, you had stept frienship acts from itself, unmoved by slander or
in the foremost.-And what is life without its ingratitude: the life you thirst for- shall be emncomforts? Those you would rob him of; and, by ployed to serve you.-You know me not.
a lingering death, add cruelty to murder. Hence-   - Bev. Yes; for the slander of my fame-who,
forth, adieu to half-made villains-there'sa danger under show of friendship, arraigns me of injusin them. What you have got is yours:; lkeep it, tice; buzzing in every ear foul breach of trust,
and hide with it-I'll deal - my future bounty to and family dishonour.
those that merit it.                           Lew. Have I done this?   Who told you so?
Bates. What's the reward?                   Bev. The world-'Tis talked of every where.
Stuke. Equal division of our gains. I swear - It pleased you to add threats too-You were
it, and will be just.                       to call me to account-Why, do it now then; I
Bates. Think of the means then.            should be proud of such an arbiter.
Stuke. He's gone to Beverley's-Wait for -him    Lew. Put up your sword, and know me better.
in the street-'Tis a dark night, and fit for mis- I never injured you. The base suggestion comes
chief. A dagger would be useful.             from Stukely; I see him and his aims.
Bates. He sleeps no more.                    Bev. What aims?. I'll not conceal it;'twas
Stuke. Consider the reward! when the deed's Stukely that accused you.
done, I have other business with you. Send   Lew.  To -rid him of an enemy-Perhaps of
Dawson to me.                                two-He fears discovery, and: frames a tale of
Bates. Think it already done-and so,' farewell. falsehood, to ground revenge and murder on.
[Exit.   Bev. I must have proof of this.
Stuke. Why, farewell, Lewson then; and fare-   Lew. Wait till to-morrow then.
well to my fears. This night secures me. I'll   Bev. I will.
wait the event within.               [Exit.   Lew. Good night-I go to serve you —Forget
what's past, as I do; and cheer your family with
SCENE II.-The Street.-Stage darkened.  smiles-To-morrow may confirm them, and mako
Enter BEVERLEY.                all happy.                            [Exit.
Bev. Howlike an outcast do I wander! Loaded    Bev. [Pausing.] How vile and how absurd is
with every curse that drives the soultodespera- man! His boasted honour is but another name
tion!' The midnight robber, as he walks his for pride, which easier bears the consciousness of
rounds, sees, by the glimmering lamp, my frantic guilt, than the world's just reproofs! But'tis' the
looks, and dreads to meet me. Whither am   fashion of the times; and in defence of falsehood
going -' My home lies there; all that is dear on and false honourj men die martyrs. I knew not
earth it holds too; yet are the gates of death more that my nature was so bad.- [Stands musing.
welcome to me-I'll enter it no more —Who passes        Enter BATES and JARVIS.
there?'Tis Lewson.-He meets me in a gloomy
hour; and memory tells me he has been meddling    Jar. This way the noise was; and yonder's
with my fame.                                my poor master.
EBates. I heard him at high words:with- Lew
Enter LZEWSON.
son.
-:Lew. Beverley! well met. I have been busy   Jar. I heard him too. Misfortunes vex him'.
in your -affairs.                              Bates. Go to him, and lead him home.-I'll notBev. So I have heard, Sir; and now I must be seen by him.                        [Exit.
thank you as I ought.                          Bev. [Starting.] What fellow's that? [Seeing
Lew. To-morrow: [ may deserve your thanks. JARVIS.] Art thou a murderer, friend? Come, lead
Late as it is, I go to Bates.  Discoveries are the way-I have a hand as mischievous as thine;
making that an arch villain trembles at.     a heart as desperate too. —Jarvis! To bed, old
Bev.: Discoveries are made, Sir, that you shall man; the cold will chill thee.
tremble at.  Where is this- boasted spirit, this - Jar. Why:are you wandering at this late hour I




484                           THE GAMESTER.                                    LACrT X.
— Your sword drawn too! For Heaven's sake, left them to hasten hither; but not till'twas resheathe it, Sir: the sight distracts me.     solved Lewson should die.
Bev. Whose voice is that?        [ Wildly.   Stuke. Thy words have given me life.-That
Jar.'Twas mine, Sir: let me entreat you to quarrel, too, was fortunate; for, if my hopes degive the sword to me.                        ceive me not, it promises a rave to Beverley.
Bev. Ay, take it; quickly take it. Perhaps I   Daw. You misconceive me. Lewson and he
am not so cursed, but Heaven may have sent thee were friends.
at this moment to snatch me from perdition.    Stuke. But my prolific brain shall make them
Jar. Then I am-blessed.                    enemies. If Lewson falls, he falls by Beverley.
Bee. Continue so, and leave me; my sorrows Ask me no question, but do as I direct. This
are contagious. No one is blessed that's near me. writ [ Takes out a pocket-book.] for some days past
Jar. I came to seek you) Sir.              I have treasured here, till a convenient time called
Bev. And now thou hast. found me, leave me. for its use. That time is come: take it, and give
My thoughts are wild, and will not be disturbed. it to an officer. It must be served this instant.
Jar. Such thoughts are best disturbed.                                  [Gives a paper.
Bev. Who sent thee hither   Dauw. On Beverley'.
Jar. My weeping mistress.-Alas, forget your   Stuke. Look at it. It is for the sums that I
griefs, and let me lead you to her. The streets have lent him.
are dangerous.                                 Daw. Must he to prison then?
Bev. Be wise, and leave me then. The night's   Stuke. 1 ask obedience, not replies. This night
black horrors are suited to my thoughts.-These a gaol must be his lodging.'Tis probable he is
stones shall be my resting-place. [ Throws himself not gone home yet. Wait at his door, and see it
on the ground.] Here shall my soul brood o'er its executed.
miseries; till, with the fiends of hell and guilty    Daw. Upon a beggar?  He has no means of
of the earth, I start and tremble at the morning's payment.
light.                                         Stuke. Dull and insensible! If Lewson dies,
Jar. Let patience, not despair, possess you-  who was it killed him?  Why, he that was seen
Rise, I beseech you.-There's not a moment of quarrelling with him; and I, that knew of Beveryour absence that my poor mistress does not mourn ley's intents, arrested him in friendship.-A little
for.                                         late, perhaps; but it was a virtuous act, and men
Bev. Have I undone her, and is she still so will thank me for it. —Now, Sir, you understand
kind? [Starting up.] It is too much-My brain me.
can't hold it. Oh, Jarvis! how desperate is that   Daw. Most perfectly; and will about it.
wretch's state, which only death or madness can    Stuke. Haste, then; and when it is done, come
relieve!                                    back and tell me.
Jar. Appease his mind, good Heaven, and   Dau;w. Till then, farewell.           [Exit.
give him resignation! Alas, Sir, could beings in   Stuke. Now tell thy tale, fond wife! and Lewthe other world perceive the events of this, how  son, if again thou can'st, insult me.
would your parents' blessed spirits grieve for you,   Not avarice now, but vengeance fires my breast!
even in heaven!-Let me conjure you, by their   And once short hour must make me curs'd or
honoured memories-by the sweet innocence of          blless'd.                     [Exit.
your yet helpless child, and by the ceaseless sorrows of my poor mistress, to rouse your manhood,              ACT V.
and struggle with these griefs!                   SCENE I.-STUKELY'S Lodgings.
Bev. Thou virtuous, good, old man! Thy
tears and thy entreaties have reached my heart,  Enter STUKELY, BATES, and DAWSON.
through all its miseries.                      Bates. Poor Lewson!-But I told you enough
Jar. Be but resigned, Sir, and happiness may last night. The thought of him is horrible to me.
yet be yours. Hark! I hear voices.-Come this   Stuke. In the street did you say; and no one
way: we may reach home unnoticed.            near him?
Bev. Unnoticed, didst thou say? Alas! I dread    Bates. By his own door; he was leading me to
no looks but of those wretches I have made at his house. I pretended business with him, and
home. Oh, had I listened to thy honest warn- stabbed him to the heart, while he was reaching
ings, no earthly blessing had been wanting tome; at the bell.
but I have warred against the power that blessed    Stuke. And did he fall so suddenly?
me, and now am sentenced to the hell I merit.  Bates,Therepetition pleases you, I see.-I told
[Exeunt. you he fell without a groan.
Stuke. What heard you of him this morning?
SCENE III.-STUKELY's Lodgings.            Bates. That the watch found him in their
Enter STUKEL-Y and DAWSON.          rounds, and alarmed the servants. I mingled
with the crowd just now, and saw him dead in
Stuke. Come hither, Dawson; my limbs are on  his own house. The sight terrified me.
the rack, and my soul shivers in me, till this   Stuke. Away with terrors, till his ghost rise
night's  business be complete.-Tell me thy  and accuse us. We have no living enemy to
thoughts; is Bates determined, or does he waver? fear, unless'tis Beverley; and him we have lodged
Daw. At first, he seemed irresolute; wished the safe in prison.
employment had been mine, and. muttered curses   Bates. Must he be murdered too?
qn his coward hand, that trembled at the deed.  Stuke. No; I have a scheme to make the law
Stuke. And did he leave you so 2           his murderer.-At what hour did Lewson fall?
Daw. No; we walked together; and, sheltered    Bates. The clock struck twelve as I turned to
ov the darkness, saw Beverley and Lewson in leave him.'Twas a melancholy bell, I thought
warm debate: but soon they cooled; and then I tolling for his death.




PCFNE III.]                  T THE  GAMESTE R.                                   485
Stuke. The time was lucky for us.-Beverley                Enter JARVIS.
was arrested at one, you say?    [To DAWSON.   Mrs. B. Are tears then cheerful 1  Alas, he
Daw. Exactly.                             weeps! Speak to him, Charlotte.
Stuke. Good! We'll talk of this presently.-    Char. How does your master, Jarvis?
The women were with him, I think.              Jar. I am old and foolish, Madam; and tears
Daw. And old Jarvis. I would have told you will come before my words. But don't you weep;
of them last night, but your thoughts were too [To MRS. BEVERLEY.] I have a tale of joy for you.
busy.'Tis well you have a heart of stone, the   Mrs. B. Say but he's well, and l have joy
tale would melt it else.                     enough.
Stuke. Out with it, then.                   Jar. All shall be well.-I have news for him,
Daw. I traced him to his lodgings; and, pre- that will make his poor heart bound again. Fie
tending pity for his misfortunes, kept the door upon old age! How childish it makes me! I have
open while the officers seized him.'Twas a a tale of joy for you, and my tears drown it.
damned deed-but no matter-I followed my in-   Mrs. B. What is it, Jarvis?
structions.                                   Jar. Your uncle, Madam, died yesterday.
Stuke. And what said he 2  Mrs. B. My uncle!-Oh Heavens!
Dawt. He upbraided me with treachery; called    Char. How heard you of his death?
you a villain; acknowledged the sums you had   Jar. His steward came express, Madam; 1
lent him; and submitted to his fortune.      met him in the street, inquiring for your lodgings.
Stuke. And the women?                     I should not rejoice, perhaps -but he was old, and
Daw. For a few moments astonishment kept my poor master a prisoner. Now he shall l ve
them silent. They looked wildly at one another, again. Oh,'tis a brave fortune! and'twas death
while the tears streamed down their cheeks. But to me to see him a prisoner.
rage and fury soon gave them words; and then,   Char. How did he pass the night, Jarvis?
in the very bitterness of despair, they cursed me,   Jar. Like a man dreaming of death and horand the monster that had employed me.        rors.-When they led him to his cell, he flung
Stuke. And you bore it with philosophy 2  himself upon a wretched bed, and lay speechless
Daw. Till the scene changed, and then I melted. till day-break. I spoke to him, but he would not
I ordered the officers to take away their prisoner. hear me; and when I persisted, he raised his hand
The women shrieked, and would have fbllowed at me, and knit his brow so-I thought he would
him; but we forbade them.'Twas then they have struck me. I bid him be of comfort.-Be
fell upon their knees, the wife fainted, the sister gone, old wretch, says he. My wife! my child:!
raving, and both, with all the eloquence of misery, my sister! I have undone them  all, and will
endeavouring to soften us. I never felt compas- know no comfort! Then, falling upon his knees,
sion till that moment; and, had the officers been he imprecated curses upon himself.
moved like me, we had left the business undone,   AIrs. B. This is too horrible! But we have
and fled with curses on ourselves. But their staid too long. Let us haste to comfort him, or
hearts were steeled by custom. The sighs of die with him.                       [Exeunt.
beauty, and the pangs of affection, were beneath
their pity. They tore him from their arms, and         SCENE III.-A  Prison.
lodged him in prison, with only Jarvis to comfort   BEVERLEY is discovered, sitting.
him.
Stuke. There let him lie, till we have further   Bev. Why there's an end then; I have judged
business with him.-But how to proceed will re- deliberately, and the result is death   How the
quire time and thought.-Come along with me- self-murderer's account may stand I know not,
the room within is fitted for privacy-But nbut this I know- the load of hateful life oppresses
the rom  within is fitted for privacy.-DBut no
Eompassion, Sir. t To DAWSON.] We want leisure me too much-The horrors of my soul are more
for't.-This way.                   [Exeunt. than I can bear [Offers to kneel.] Father of
mercy! —I cannot pray-Despair has laid his iron
SCENE II.-BEVERLEY's Lodgings.          hand upon me, and sealed me for perdition-Conscience! conscience! thy clamours are too loud!Enter MRS. BEVERLEY and CHARLOTTE.    Here's that shall silence thee. [Takes a vial out.Urs. B. No news of Lewson yet?           of his pocket, and looks at. it.] Thou art most
Char. None. He went out early, and knows friendly to the miserable. Come then, thou coxt
not what has happened.                      dial for sick minds-Come to my heart. [Drinks.]
Mrs. B. The clock strikes eight; I'll wait no Oh, that the grave would bury memory as well as
longer. Oh, what a night was last night! I body! For ifthe soul sees and feels the sufferings
would not pass another such to purchase worlds of those dear ones it leaves behind, the Everlastby it.-My poor Beverley too! What must he ing has no vengeance to torment it deeper-I'll
have felt?-The very thought distracts me!-To  think no more on't-Reflection comes too late —
have him torn at midnight from me! A loathsome Once there was a time for't-but now'tis past.4prison his habitation! A cold damp room his Who's there?
lodging! The bleak winds, perhaps, blowing upon             Enter JARvIS.
his pillow! No fond wife to lull him to his rest!   Jar. One that hoped to see you with better
and no reflections but to wound and tear him!-looks-Why do you turn so from me?   I have'Tis too horrible!-I wanted love for him, or they brought comfort with me. And see who corne
had not forced him from me.-They should have to give it welcome!
parted soul and body first.-I was too tame.    Bev. My wife and sister! MW hy'tis but one
Char. You must not talk so. All that we pang more, and then, farewell, world!
could we did; and Jarvis did the rest. The
faithful creature will give him  comfort.  See    Enter MRS. BEVERLEY and CHARLOTTE.
where he comes! His looks are cheerful too!    Mrs. B. Where is he? [Runs and emrbrac'e
41*




486                          T:HE  -GAM'EST ER.: LAC' V.
iim.] Oh, I have him! I have him! And now      -          Enter STUKELY.
they shall never part us more-I have news,   Bev. Why is this villain here 
love, to make you happy for ever. Alas, he hears   Stuke. To give you liberty and safety. Thele,
us not!-Speak to me, love. I have no heart to Madam, is his discharge. [Giving a paper to MRs.
see you thus.                                BEVERLEY.] Let him fly this moment. The arBev. This is a sad place!                  rest last night was meant in friendship, but came
Mrs. B.- We come to take you from it-to tell too late.
you the world goes well again-that Providence    Char. What mean you, Sir?
has seen our sorrows, and sent the means to help    Stuke. The arrest was too late, I say; I would
them. Your uncle died yesterday.             have kept his hands from blood-but was too late.
Bev. My uncle!-No, do not say so!-Oh, I   AlIrs. B. His hands from blood-Whose blood?
am sick at heart!                              Stuke. From Lewson's blood.
Mrs. B. Indeed! I meant to bring you comfort.   Char. No, villain! yet what of Lewson?
Bev. Tell me he lives then-if you would  Speak quickly.
bring me comfort, tell me he lives!            Stuke. You are ignorant, then; I thought I
Mrs. B. And if I did-I have no power to heard the murderer at confession.
raise the dead-He died yesterday.- Char. What murderer?-And who is murderBev. And am I heir to him?                ed? not Lewson!-Say he lives, and I'll kneel
Jar. To his whole estate, Sir-But bear it pa- and worship you.
tiently-pray, bear it patiently.              Stake. In pity, so I would but that the tongues
Bev. Well, well-[Pausing.] Why fame says of all cry murder: I came in pity, not in malice,
I am rich then?                             to save the brother, not kill the sister. Your
Mrs. B. And truly so —Why do you look so Lewson's dead.
wildly z                                       Char. Oh, horrible!
Bev. Do I?  The news wasunexpected.-    Bev. Silence; I charge you-Proceed, Sir.
But has he left me all?                        Stuke. No, justice may stop the tale-and
Jar. All, all, Sir. He could not leave it from  here's an evidence.
you.
Enter BATES.
Bev. 1 am sorry for it.
Mrs. B. Why are you disturbed so?           Bates. The news, I see, has reached you; but
Bev. Has death no terrors in it?         take comfort, Madam. [To CHAR. ] There's one
Mrs. B. Not an old man's death. Yet, if it without inquiring for you-Go to him, and lose
troubles you, I wish him living.            no time.
Bev. And I, with all my heart, for I have a   Char. 0 misery! misery! misery!    [Exit.
tale to tell, shall turn you into stone; or, if the   Mrs. B. Follow her, Jarvis; if it be true that
power of speech remain, you shall kneel down Lewson's dead, her grief may kill her.
and curse me.                                  Bates. Jarvis must stay here, Madam: I have,; Mrs. B. Alas! what tale is this? and why are some questions for him.
we to curse you?-I'll bless you for ever.     Stuke. Rather let him fly; his, evidence.may
Bev. No, I. have deserved.no. blessings; the crush his master.
world holds not such another wretch. All this   Bev. Why ay, this looks like management.
large fortune,' this second bounty of Heaven, that   Bates. He found you quarrelling with Lewson
might. have healed our sorrows, and satisfied our in the street last night.    [ To BEY.
utmost hopes, in a cursed hour I sold last night.   3Mrs. B. No, I am sure he did not.
Char. -Sold! how sold?                    Jar. Or if I didMIrs. B.. Impossible!-it cannot be.        /Mrs. B.'Tis. false, old man-They had no
Bev. That devil Stukely, with all hell to aid quarrel: there was no cause for quarrel.
him, tempted me to the deed. To pay false debts   Bev. Let him proceed, I say-Oh! I am sick!
of honour, and to redeem past errors, I sold the sick i-!-Reach me a chair.  rHe sits down.
reversion-Sold it for a scanty sum, and lost it   Airs. B. If Lewson's dead, you killed him not.
among villains.                                            Enter DAwsoN.
Char. Why, farewell all then.               Stuke. Who sent for Dawson?
-Bev. Liberty and life. Come, kneel and curse   Bates.'Twas I-We have a witness too you
rme,                                        little thinkof-Without, there.
i -Mrs. B.- Then hear me, Heaven! [Kneels.]   Stuke. What witness 
Look down with mercy on his sorrows! give   Bates. A right one. Look at him
softness to his looks, and quiet to his heart! take
from his memory the sense of what is past; and     Enter LEwsoN and CHARLOTTE.
cure him of despair! On:me! on me! if misery:. Stuke. Lewson! 0 villains! villains!
must be. the lot - of either, multiply misfortunes!             [To BATES and DAWSON.
I'll: bear.them: patiently, so he is happy: these   Mrs. B. Risen from the dead'! why, this is
hands shall toil for his support, these eyes be unexpected happiness!
lifted up for hourly blessings on him; and every    Char. Or is it his ghost? [ To STUKELY.]duty ofa fond and faithful wife be doubly done to That sight would please you, Sir.
cheer and comfort:him!h -So hear.me! so reward   Jar. What riddle's this 
me!,.    [Rises.   Bev. Be quick and tell it. My minutes are
Bev. I'I would kneel too, but that offended but few.
Heaven would, turn my. prayers into curses; for   Mrs. B. Alas! why so? you shall live long and.
I have done a deed, to.make life horrible to you- happily.
Jar. Ask him no questions, Madam. This   Lew. While shame and punishment-shall rack
mest misfortune has - hurt his  brain: a little time that viper. [Pointing to STUKELY.J-The tale is
will give. him patience.                    short-I was too busy in his secrets, and therefore




SCENIC III.]                   THE GAMESTER.                                         487
doomed to die: Bates, to prevent the murder, un- Had Jarvis staid this morning, all had been well.
dertook it. I kept aloof to give it credit.   But, pressed by shame-pent in a prson-torChar. And gave me pangs unutterable.        mented with my pangs for you-driven to despair
Lew. I felt them all, and would have told you. and madness-I took the advantage of his absence,
-But vengeance wanted ripening. The-villain's corrupted the poor wretch he left to guard me,
scheme was but half executed.  The arrest by and swallowed-poison.
Dawson followed the supposed murder-And now,   Lew. 0 fatal deed!
depending on his once wicked associates. he comes    Char. Dreadful and cruel!
to fix the guilt on Beverley.                   Bev. Ay, most accursed —-And now I go to
1Irs. B. Oh! execrable wretch!              my account.-Bend  me and let me kneel.
Bates. Dawson and 1 are witnesses of this.    [They lift him from his chair, he kneels.]  I'll
Lew. And of a thousand frauds; his fortune pray for you too.-Thou Power that madest me,
ruined by sharpers and false dice; and Stukely  hear me; if, for a life of frailty, and this too hasty
sole contriver and possessor of all.          deed of death, thy justice dooms me, here I acquit
Daw. Had he but stopped on this side murder, the sentence. But if, enthroned in mercy where
we had been villains still.                   thou sittest, thy pity has beheld me, send me a
iMrs. B. Thus Heaven turns evil into good; gleam of hope, that in these last and bitter moand, by permitting sin, warns men to virtue.  ments my soul may taste of comfort! and for these
Lew. Yet punishes the instrument: so shall mourners here, 0 let their lives be peaceful, and
our laws, though not with death-: but death were their deaths happy! [ They lift him to the chair.
mercy. Shame, beggary, and imprisonment: un —   Mrs' B. Restore him, Heaven! Oh save him I
pitied misery, the stings of conscience, and the save him! or let me die too.
curses of mankind, shall make life hateful to him    Bev. No, live, I charge you. —We have a
-till at last his own hand end him. How does little one. Though I have left him, you will not
my friend                           [To BEv. leave hiin.-To Lewson's kindness I bequeath
Bev. Why, well; who is he that asks me?    him-Is not this Charlotte? we have lived in love,
Mrs. B.'Tis Lewson, love-Why do you though I have wronged you;-can you forgive
look so at him?                              me, Charlotte?:Bev. They told me he was murdered.            Char. Forgive you!-0, my poor brother!
[Wildly.   Bev. Oh! for a few short moments, to tell you
Mirs. B. Ay, but helives to save us.        how  my heart bleeds for you-that even now,
Bev. Lend me your hand-the room  turns thus dying as I am, dubious and fearful of hereround.                                        after, my bosom pang is for your miseries.  SupMrs. B. Oh! Heaven.                      -  port her, Heaven! - And now, I go-Oh
Lew. This villain here disturbs him: remove mercy, mercy!'[Dies.
him from his sight-And for your lives see that   Lew.:Then all is over-  How is it, Madam 
you guard him. [STUKELY is taken off by DAWSON  - My poor Charlotte, too!
and BATES.] How is it now, Sir?                 Char. Her grief is speechless.
Bev.'Tis here-and here, [Pointing to his   Lew. Remove her from this sight-  Lead and
heaq and heart.] and now it tears me!        support her. Some ministering angel bring her
Mrs. B. You feel convulsed too-What is't peace! [CHARLOTTE ieads her qf.] And thou
disturbs you?                                poor. breathless corse, may thy departed soul have
Bev. A furnace rages in this heart.-Down, found the rest it prayed for! save but one error,
restless flames!-[Laying his hand on his heart.] and this last fatal deed, thy life was lovely. Let
down to your native hell —there you shall rack frailer minds take warning; and from example
me-Oh! for a pause from pain! Where's my learn, that want of prudence is want of virtue.
wife? Can you forgive me, love  Follies, if uncontrolled, of every F;nd,
_Mlrs. B. Alas! for what?                    Grlow into passions, and subdue t4c mind;
Bev. For meanly dying.                        With sense and reason hold suprz v,strife,
Mrs. B. No-do not say it.                     And conquer honour, nature, lfaw   and life.
Bev. As truly as my soul must answer it.-                                          [Exit.




THE SUSPICIOUS HUSBAND:
A COMEDY,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY DR. HOADLY.
REMARKS.
Tnis comedy arose at the time when a systematic opposition to new pieces placed the hapless authors in dGouble peril; but, in the instance before us, all prejudice gradually subsided, and the Suspicious Husband continues
to attract crowded houses as frequently as any modern comedy on the list. What Mr. Foote has said of this
play is so just, that we shall transcribe it here.
" Most of the characters are real; the incidents are interesting; the catastrophe pleasing; and the language
pure, spirited, and natural. Among the scenes in which the author designed to ridicule the absurdity of suspicion, is that where Mr. Strictland is desirous, and yet afraid, of engaging his domestics in the service of his passion. His perplexity, his resolutions, and hesitations, make up so natural and so comic a description of that
disease of the mind, that the play, were there no other reason, deserves the highest commendation.
Mrs. Strictland's innocence, joined to her other amiable qualities, interests the audience in her favour.
The two fine gentlemen, Frankly and Bellamy, differ little from the fine gentlemen of other writers; they
laugh, sing, say good things, and are in love.
"The rake is a lively portrait of that character in life; his errors arise from the want of reflection. A lively
imagination, with a great flow of spirits, hurries him into all the follies of the town; but there is not the least
shadow of wickedness or dishonour in any of his actions: he avoids both with the same care that he would a
precipice. Our author was willing to try whether Italy could furnish a fool as ridiculous and diverting as our
neighbours of France. But no sooner has Jack Meggot raised our attention, than he slips through our fingers
like an eel, and we hear no more of him till the last scene. He does, in truth, survive the loss of his monkey,
but is never tolerable company after."  The Roman and English Comedy compared.
DRAMATIS PERSONM-E.
COVENT GARDEN, 1809.                  DRURY LANE, 1813.
STRICTLAND,......... Mr. Egerton..................... Mr. Powell.
RANGER,.....................Mr. Jones...........Mr. Elliston.
FRANKLY........................ Mr. Brunton...........  Mr. Decamp.
BELLAMY,........                   Mr. Claremont..........           Mr. Holland.
JACK MEGGOT,.........              Mr. Farley...........             Mr. R. Palmer.
TESTER,........Mr. Simmons.....................lr. Penley.
JOHN.........Mr. Holland.......................Mr. West.
THOMAS,........         Mr. Trueman..........              Mr. Buxton.
GEORGE,.........                  Mr. Louis...........               Mr. Ebsworth.
SIMON...................Mr. Jefferies................Mr. Chatterley.
BUCKLE,.........                    Mr. Menage.......................Mr. Fisher.
VVILLIAM.........Mr. Atkins.......................Mr-. Miller.
JAMES......Mr. Sarjant.......................Mr. Jameson.
-.                Mess. Maddocks and
CHAIRMEN,...........              Mess. Wilde and Powers.........   Mess.  addoc ppleby.
MRS. STRICTLAND...........Miss Logan...................    Mrs. Moore.
CLARINDA,...........              Mrs. H. Johnston................  Mrs. Davison.
JACINTHA,.......        Miss Norton.....                       Or.......1S. rger.
LANDLADY...................Mrs. Emery.........           Mrs. Maddocks.
MILLINER,...............          Mr.s. Ridgway.....Mrs. Scott.
LUCETTA.......Mrs. Gibs...                             Miss Mellon.
JENNY,......................Miss Cox.........  Mrs. Chatterley.
FANNY....................  Mrs. Bologna......... Miss Cooke.
ACT  I.                          Ran. Once more I am got safe to the Temple.
Let me reflect a little.  I have sat up all night; I
SCFTNE I.-R  ANGER'S Chambers in the Temple.  have my head full of bad wine, and the noise of
4 knocking is heard at the door for some time;  oaths, dice, and the damned tingling of tavern
when RANGER enters, having let himself in.    bells; my spirits jaded, and my eyes sunk in my
488




SCEn L.1              THE SUSPICIOUS HUSBAND.                                      489
head; and all this for the conversation of a cor-   Ran. Well, Simon, my service to your lady,
pany of fellows I despise. Their wit lies only in and let her know I will most certainly wait upon
obscenity, their mirth in noise, and their delight her. I am a little busy, Simon-and soin a box and dice. Honest Ranger, take my word   Sim. Ah, you're a wag, Master Ranger, you're
for it, thou art a mighty silly fellow.      a wag-but mum for that.       ~       [Exit.
Enter a SERVANT.                  Ran. I swear, my dear, you have the prettiest
Where have you been, rascal? If I had not had pair of eyes-the loveliest pouting lips-I never
the key in my pocket, I must have waited at the saw you before.
door in this dainty dress.                     Mil. No, Sir! I was always in the shop.
Serv. I was only below, brushing your honour's   Ran. Were you so!. Well, and what does
co4at.                                       your mistress say? —The devil fetch me, child,
Ran. Well, get breakfast.-Why, how like a you looked so prettily, that 1 could not mind one
raking dog do you look, compared to that spruce word you said.
sober gentleman. [Aside.] Go, you battered devil,   Mil. Lard, Sir, you are such another gentleand be made fit to be seen.                  man! Why, she says she is sorry she could not
[  Throwing his hat to the SERVANT. send them sooner. Shall I lay them down?
Serv.'Egad, my master's very merry this   Ran. No, child; give'em to me-Dear, little,
morning.                             [Exin-[t. smiling angel-      [ Catches and kisses her.
Ran. And now for the law.                    Mil. I beg, Sir, you would be civil.
[Sits down and reads.   Ran. Civil!'Egad, I think I am very civil.
Tell me no more, I ant deceiv'd,
That Chloe'sfalse and common;                Re-enter a SERVANT, with BELLAMY.
By Heaven, Iall along believ'd,            Serv. Sir. Mr. Bellamy.             [Exit.
She was a very woman.                     Ran. Damn your impertinence. [Aside.]
As such I liked, as such caress'd;      Oh, Mr. Bellamy, your servant.
She still was constant when possess'd:    V1Mil. What shall I say to my mistress?
She could do more for no man.             Ran. Bid her make half a dozen more; but be
Honest Congreve was a man after my own sure you bring them home yourself. [Exit MILheart.                                       LINER.] Pshaw! Pox! Mr. Bellamy,how should
Enter SERVANT.                you like to be served so yourself.
*ner N..   Bel. How can you, Ranger, for a minute's
Have you been for the money this morning, as I             n  yout
avderee you    r                            pleasure, give an innocent girl the pain of heart
I am confident she felt?-There was a modest
Serv. No, Sir; you bade me go before you was blush upon her cheek convinces me she is houp; I did not know your honour meant before nest.
you went to bed.                               Ran. May be so. I was resolved to try, howRan. None of your jokes, I pray; but to busiever, had not you interrupted the experiment.
ness. Go to the coffee-house, and inquire if   Bel. Fie, Ranger, will you never think?
there has been any letter or message left for me  Ran. Yes, but I can't be always a thinking.
[Exit. The law is a damnable dry study, Mr. Bellamy,
Serv. I  shall, Slr.                      and without something now and then to amuse
Ran. [Reads.] You think she'sdfalse, Tm sure and relax, it would be too much for my brain, I
she's kind,                     promise ye-But I am a mighty sober fellow
I take her body, you her mind;      grown. Here have I been at it these three
Which has the better bargai     n? v                    t 1  1
asthe eobargain,  hours, but the wenches will never let me alone.
Oh that I had such a soft deceitful fair to lull my   Bel. Three hours! Why, do you usually study
senses to their desired sleep. [Knocking at the in such shoes and stockings!
door.] Come in.                               Ran. Rat your inquisitive eyes. Ex pede HerEnter SIMON.                 culem.'Egad, you have me. The truth is, I am
Oh, Master Simon, is it you?  How long have but this moment returned from the tavern. What,
you been in town?                          Frankly here too!
Sim. Just come, Sir, and but for a little time          Enter FRANKLY.
neither; and yet I have as many messages as if
we were to stay the whole year round. Here they   Frank. My boy, Ranger, I am heartily glad to
are, all of them. [Pulls out a number of cards.] see you; Bellamy, let me embrace you; you are
And among them one for your honour,         the person I want; I have been at your lodgings,
Ran. [Reads.] Clarinda's compliments to her and was directed hither.
cousi7t Ranger, and should be glad to see him for   Ran. It is to him then I am obliged for this
visit; but with all my heart. He is the only
ever so little a time that he can be spared from  man to whom  I don't care how much I am
the more weighty business of the law.-      obliged.
Ha, ha, ha! the same merry girl I ever knew    Bel. Your humble servant, Sir.
Sim. My lady is never sad, Sir.             Frank. You know, Ranger, I want no induceKnMoattheedoor..ment to be with you. But-you look sadlyRan. PrKnck at the door. What-no merciless jade has-has she'
Ran. Pr'ythee, Simon, open the door.
Ran. No, no: sound as a roach, my la..
Enter MILLINER.               only got a little too much liquor last night, whitl
Well, child -and who are you?               1 have not slept off yet.
Mil. Sir, my mistress gives her service to   Bel. Thus, Frankly, it is everyv day. All.the
y.u, and has sent you home the linen you be- morning his head aches; at noon he begins to
apke.                                      clear up; towards evening he is good company,
VOL. I....o at




49                  THE:SUSPICI OS HUSBAND.    [                               ACm 1.
od all night he is carefully providing for the same. she is not one of us, or I should uit have been s
course the next day.                         remiss in my inquiries. No mattr; I shall mee
Ran. Why; I must own, my ghostly father, I- her in my walks.
did-relapse a little last night, just to furnish out a   Re-enter a SERVANT.
decent confession for the day.
radeent confession for the is now doing penance for it.   Serv. There is no letter nor message, Sir.
Frank.  And he is now doing penance for it.   Ran
Were you his confessor, indeed, you could not   Ran. Then my things, to dress.
well desire more.                                                         [ExitSERVANT
I take her body, you her mind;
Ran. Charles, he sets up for a confessor with  I take her body, you her mind;
the worst grace in the world. Here has he
been reproving me for being but decently civil        SCENE II.-A Chamber.
to my milliner. Plague! because the coldness    Enter MRS. STRIOTLANDandJACINTA,
of his constitution makes him  insensible of a                meeting.
fine woman's charms, every body else must be
so too.                                        Mrs. S. Good morrow, my dear Jacintha.
Bel. I am  no less sensible of their charms   Jac. Good morrow to you, Madam. I have
than you are, though I cannot kiss every woman brought my work, and intend to sit with you this
I meet, or fall in love, as you call it, with every morning. I hope you have got the better of your
face which has the bloom of youth upon it. I fatigue. Where is Clarinda'  I should be glad if
would only have you a little more frugal of your she would come and work with us.
pleasures.                                     Mrs. S. She work! she is too fine a lady to do
Frank. My dear friend, this is very pretty any thing. She is not stirring yet-we must let
talking! but let me tell you, it is in thie power of her have her rest. People of her waste of spirits
the very first glance from a fine woman'utterly to require more time to recruit again.
disconcert all your philosophy.                Jac. It is pity she should be ever tired with
Bel. It must be from a fine woman then, and what is so agreeable to every body else. I am
not such as are generally reputed so. And it must prodigiously pleased with her company.
be a thorough acquaintance with her too, that will   Mrs. S. And when you are better acquainted,
ever make an impression on my heart.         you will be still more pleased with her. You must
Ran. Would 1 could see it once! for, when a rally her upon her partner at Bath; for I fancy
man has been all his life hoarding up a stock, part of her rest has been disturbed on his account.
without allowing himself common necessaries, it  Jac. Was he really a pretty fellow I
tickles me to the soul to see him lay it all out  AMrs. S. That I dan't tell; I did not dance myupon a wrong bottom, and become bankrupt at self, and so did not much mind him. You must
last.                                        have the whole story from herself.
Bel. Well, I don't care how soon you see it.  Jac.: Oh, I warrant ye, I get it all out. None
For the minute I find a woman capable of friend- are so proper to make discoveries in love, as those
ship, love, and tenderness, with good sense enough  who are in the secret themselves.
to be always easy, and good nature enough to like          Enter LUCETTA.
me, I will immediately put it to the trial, which    Luc. Madam, Mr. Strictland is inquiring for
of us shall have the  reatest share of happiness; you. Here has been Mr. Buckle with a letter
from the sex, you or..
fran  Byesex, mau.orry    herIupe.  _   cap from  his master, which has made him  very
Ran. By marrying her, I suppose? capable angr
of friendship, love, and tenderness! ha, ha, ha!    Mr. Bellamy said indeed he would try
that a man of your sense should talk so. If sheim once more, but I fear it will prove in vain.
becapableof Iwve,'tis all I require of my mistress; Tell your master I am here. [Exit LUCETrA.]
and as every woman, who is young, is capable of What signifies fortune, when it only makes us
love, I am very reasonably in love with every slaves to other people 7
young woman I meet. My lord Coke, in a case   Mrs. S. Do not be uneasy, my Jacintha. You
I read this morning, speaks my sense.       shall always find a friend in me; but as for Mr.
et. Frank. My lord Cok          Strictland, I know  not. what ill temper hangs
Ran. Yes, my lord Coke. What he says of about him  lately-nothing satisfies him. You
one woman, 1 say of the whole sex:          saw how he received us when we came off our
I take their bodies, you their minds;   journey. Though Clarinda was so good com
- Which has the better bargain?        pany, he was barely civil to her, and downright
rude to me.
Frank. There is no arguing with so great a
Frank. There is no arguing with  so great a   Jac. I cannot help saying, I did observe it.
lawyer. Suppose, therefore, we adjourn the de-   Ja. I cannot help saying, I did observe it.
bate to some other time. I have some serious
business with Mr. Bellasmy, and you want sleep,          Enter.STRICTLAND.
I am sure.                                     Strict. Oh, your servant, Madam!  Here, I
Ran. Sleep! mere loss of time and hinderance have received a letter from Mr. Bellamy, wherein
of business.-We men of spirit, Sir, are above it. he desires I would once more hear what he has
Bel. Whither shall we go       y          to say. You know my sentiment; nay, so does he.
Frank. Into the park. My chariot is at the   Jac. For Heavens sake, consider, Sir, this is
door.                                        no new affair, no sudden start of passion: we
Bel. Then if my servant calls, you'll send him  have known each other long. My father valued
after us?                                   and loved him, and I am sure, were he alive, I
[Exeunt BELLAMY and FRANKIY. should have his consent.
Ran. I will. [Looks on the card.J-Clarinda's   Strict. Don't tell me. Your father would not
compltments. —A pox of this head of mine! never have you marry against his will, neither will I
once to ask where she was to be found. It's plain  against mine. I am your father now




BmudE III.]          T H E  SUSPICIU)US HUSBAND.                                   491
Jac. And you take a fatherly care of me.            Re-enter MRS. STRICTLAND.
Strict. I wish I had never had any thing to do Understand me right. I do not mean, by What I
with you.                                                             not mean, b what I
with you. Yumyesyetrdotetobe               have said, that I suspect your innocence; but by
Jac. You may easily Let rid of the trouble.
Strict. By listening,   suppose to the young crushing this growing friendship all at once, 1
gentleman's proposals*   I, 0,  1 X X -young i may prevent a train of mischief which you do not
Jac. Which are veryreasonle, in my opinion. foresee. I was perhaps too harsh, therefore do it
Strict. Oh. very modest ones truly; and   in your own way; but let me seethe house fairly
A  rid of her.                           [Exit.
modest gentleman he is that proposes them!t A: 1                      *         *
irs. S. His earnestness in this affair amazes
fool, to expect a lady of thirty thousand poundsade this visit to Clarinda; and
fortune should, by the care and prudence of her me; I am sorry I made this visit to Clarinda; and
guardian, be thrown awayupon a        youn  fellow  yet I'll answer for her honour. What can I say to
1 th    away upon a young fellow  her. Necessity must plead in my excuse-for at
not worth three hundred a year. He thinks being                    d m                 
in love is an excuse for this; but I am not in love:tland must b obyd.    it.
what does he think will excuse me?
Mrs. S. Well; but, Mr. Strictland, I think the  SCENE III.-S. JAMES'S Park.
gentleman should be heard.                          Enter BELLAMY and FRANKLY.
Strict. Well, well, seven o'clock's the time;   Bel. Is love the secret Ranger is not fit to hear?
and if the man has had the good fortune, since I In my mind, he would prove the more able counsaw him last, to persuade somebody or other to sellor. And is all the gay indifference of my friend
give him a better estate, I give him my consent, at last reduced to love?
not else. His servant waits below: you may tell   Frank. Even so.-Never was prude more rehim I shall be at home. [Exit JACINrHA.] But solute in chastity and ill nature, than I was
where is your friend, your other half, all this while? fixed in indifference. but love has raised me from
I thought you could not have breathed a minute that inactive state above the being of a man.
without your Clarinda.: Bel. Faith, Charles, I begin to think it has;
Mirs. S. Why the truth is, I was going to see but pray bring this rupture into order a little, and
what makes her keep her chamber so long.     tell me regularly, how, where, and when.
Strict. Lookye, Mrs. Strictland, you have been   Frank. If I was not more unreasonably in love,
asking for money this morning. In plain terms, those horrid questions would stop my mouth at
not one shilling shall pass through these fingers, once; but as I am armed against reason-I antill you have cleared myhouse ofthis Clarinda.   swer-at Bath, on Tuesday, she danced and
MIrs. S. How can her innocent gayety have caught me.
offended you? she is a woman of honour, and   Bel. Danced! and was that all?  But who is
has as many good qualities-                  she? what is her name? her fortune? where does
Strict. As women of honour generally have. I she live?
know it, and therefore am uneasy.              Frank. Hold! hold! not so many hard quesMrs. S. But, Sir-                          tions; have a little mercy. I know but little of
Strict. But, Madam-Ciarinda, nor e'er a rake her, that's certain; but all I do know you shall
of fashion in England, shall live in my family to have. -That evening was the first of her appeardebauch it.                                 ing at Bath; the moment I saw her, I resolved to
irs. S. Sir, she treated me with so much ci- ask the favour of her hand: but the easy freedom
vility in the country, that I thought I could not with which she gave it, and her unaffected good
do less than invite her to spend as much time with humour during the whole night, gained such a
me in town as her engagements would permit. I power over my heart, as none of her sex could
little imagined you could have been displeased at ever boast before. I waited on her home, and the
my having so agreeable a companion.         next morning, when I went to pay the usual comStrict. There was a time when I was company pliments, the bird was flown; she was set out for
enough for leisure hours.                   London two hours before, and in a chariot and six,
Mrs. S. There was a time when every word you rogue.
of mine was sure of meeting with a. smile; but   Bel. But was it her own, Charles 
those happy days, I know not why, have long   Frank. That I don't know; but it looks better
been over.                                  than being dragged to town in the stage. That
Strict. I cannot bear a rival even of your own day and the next I spent in inquiries. I waited
sex. I hate the very name of female friends. No on the ladies who came with her; they knew no
two of you can ever be an hour by yourselves, but thing of her. So, without learning either he.
one or both are the worse of it.            name or fortune, I e'en called for my boots, ana.Mrs. S. Dear Mr. Strictland-             rode post after her.
-Strict.: This I know, and will not suffer.  Bel. And how do you find yourself after your
Mrs. S. It grieves me, Sir, to see you so much  journey?
illn earnest: but, to convince you how willing I am    Frank. Why, as yet, I own I am but upon a
to make you easy in every thing, it shall be my cold scent: but a woman of her sprightliness and
request to her: to remove immediately.       gentility cannot but frequent all public places
Strict. Do it-harkye-your' request' —Why  and when once she is found, the pleasure of the
yours? —'tis mine —my command —tell her so. I chase will over-pay the pains of rousing her. Oh'
will be master of my own family, and 1 care not Bellamy! there was something peculiarly charmwho knows it.                               ing in her, that seemed to claim my further acMrs. S. You fright me, Sir.-But it shall -be as quaintance; and if in the other more familiar
you please.                   [Exit, in tears. parts of life she shines with that superior lustre,
Strict. Ha! have I gone too far?  I am not and at last T win her to my arms, how shall I bless
master of myself. Mrs. Strictland!          my resolution in pursuing her!




492                 THE SUSPICIOUS HUSBAND.                                     LACrt.
Bel. But if at last she should prove unworthy-    J. Meg. This gentleman was my monkey, Sir;
Frank. I would endeavour to forget her.    an odd sort of a fellow, that used to divert me, and
Bel. Promise me that, Charles, [Takes his pleased every one so at Rome, that he always
liand.] and I allow-But we are interrupted.    made one in our conversations. But, Mr. BellaEnter JACK MEGGOT.              my, I saw a servant; I have no engagement, for
you two positively shall dine with me: I have the
J. Meg. Whom have we here? My old friend, finest macaroni inilife. Oblige me so far.
Frankly! thou art grown a mere antique since I   Bel. Sir, your servant; what say you, Frankly?
saw thee. How hast thou done these five hun-   J. Meg.  Pho! pox! Charles, you shall go. My
dred years?                                 aunts think you begin to neglect them; and old
Frank. Even as you see me; well, and at your maids, you know, are the most jealous creatureis
service ever.
J. Meg. Ha! who's that?1                 in life.
J. Meg. Ha! who's that?  Frank. Ranger swears they can't be maids,
[Apart to FRANKLY. they are so good-natured. Well, I agree, on conFrank. A friend of mine. [Apart.] Mr. Bel- dition I may eat what I please, and go away just
lamy, this is Jack Meggot, Sir, as honest a fellow  when I will.
as any in life.                                J. Meg. Ay, ay, you shall do just what you
J. Meg. Pho! pry'thee! pox! Charles-Don't will. But how shall we do. my post-chaise wont
be silly.-Sir, I am your humble: any one who carry us all.
is a friend of my Frankly's, I am proud of em-   Frank. My chariot is here, and I will conduct
bracing.                                         ahMr. Bellamy.
Bel. Sir, I shall endeavour to deserve your ci-   Bel. Mr. Meggot, I beg pardon, I can't possibly
vility.                                     dine out of town; I have an engagement early In
J. Meg. Oh, Sir!-Well, Charles; what, the evening.
dumb?-Come, come, you may talk, though you   J. Meg. Out of town! No, my dear, I live just
have nothing to say, as I do. Let us hear; where by. I see one of the dilettanti I would not miss
have you been 1                              speaking to for the universe. And so I expect you
Frank. Why, for this last week, Jack, I have at three.                          [Exit.
been at Bath.                                  Frank. Ha, ha, ha I and so you thought you
J. MA/eg. Bath! the most ridiculous place in had at least fifty miles to go post for a spoonful
life! amongst tradesmen's wives who hate their of macaroni?
husbands, and people of quality that had rather   Bel. A special acquaintance I have made togo to the devil than stay at home-people of no day!
taste, no gout; and for divertimenti, if it were   Frank. For all this, Bellamy, he has a heart
not for the puppet-show, la vertu would be dead worthy your friendship. He spends his estate
amongst you. But the news, Charles; the la- freely; and you cannot oblige him more than by
dies-I fear your time hung heavy on your hands, showing him how he can be of service to you.
by the small stay you made there.              Bel. Now you say something. It is the heart,
FPrank. Faith, and so it did, Jack; the ladies Frankly, I value in a man.
are grown such idiots in love. The cards have   Frank. Right-and there is a heart even in a
so debauched their five senses, that love, almighty woman's breast that is worth the purchase, or my
love himself, is utterly neglected.         judgment has deceived me. Dear Bellamy,
J. Meg. It is the strangest thing in life, but it know your concern for me; see her first, and then
is just so with us abroad. Faith, Charles, to tell blame me if you can.
you a secret which I don't care if all the world   Bel. So far from blaming you, Charles, that if
knows, I am almost surfeited with the service of my endeavours can be serviceable, I will beat the
the ladies; the modest ones, I mean. qThe vast bushes with you.
variety of duties they expect, as dressing up to   Frank. That I am afraid will not do; for you
the fashion, losing fashionably, keeping fashion- know less of her than I: but if, in your walks,
able hours, drinking fashionable liquors, and fifty you meet a finer woman than ordinary, let her not
other such irregular niceties, so ruin a man's escape till I have seen her. Wheresoever she is.
pocket and constitution, that,'forshe cannot long lie hid.                     [Exeunt.
have the estate of a duke, and the strength of a
gondolier, who would list himself into their service.         ACT II.
Frank. A free confession truly, Jack, for one     SCENE I.-St. James' Park.
of your coat.                                   Enter CLARINDA, JACINTHA and MRs.
Bel. The ladies are obliged to you.                       STRICTLAND.
Enter BUCKLe, with a letter to BELLAMY.    Jac. Ay, ay, we both stand condemned out of
J. l/Ieg. Oh lard, Charles! I have had the our own mouths.
greatest misfortune in life since I saw you: poor   Cla. Why, I cannot but own I never had thought
Otho, that I brought from Rome with me is of any man that troubled me but him.
dead.,Irs. S. Then I dare swear, by this time, you
Frank. Well, well, get you another, and all heartily repent your leaving Bath so soon.
will be well again.                            Cla. Indeed, you are mistaken. I have not had
J. Meg. No; the rogue broke me so much one scruple since.
china, and gnawed my Spanish-leather shoes so   Jac. Why, what one inducement can he have
filthily, that when he was dead, I began not to en- ever to think of you again?
dure him.                                      Cla. Oh, the greatest of all inducements, curiBel. Exactly at seven! Run back and assure osity: let me assure you a woman's surest hold
hm~ I will not fail. [Exit BUCKLE.] Dead! pray over a man is to keep him in uncertainty.  As
who was the gentleman?                       soon as ever you put him out of doubt, you put




.SCENE I.]            THE SUSPICIOUS HUSBAND.                                      493
him out of your power: but, when once a woman    Cla. And my dear Mrs. Strictland here, is the
has awaked his curiosity, she may lead him a first young married woman of spirit who has an
dance of many a troublesome mile, without the ill-natured fellow for a husband, and never once
least fear of losing him at last.            thinks of using him as he deserves.-Good HeaJac'. Now do I heartily wish he may have spi- yen! If I had such a husbandrit enough to follow, and use you as you deserve.   Mrs. S. You would be just as unhappy as I
Such a spirit, with but a little knowledge of our am!
sex, might put that heart of yours into a strange    C/a. But come now, confess-do not you long
flutter.                                     to be a widow!
Cla. I care not how soon. I long to meet with   Mrs. S. Would I were any thing but what I
such a fellow. Our modern beaus are such joint- am!
babies in love, they have no feeling; they are en- C/a. Then go the nearest way about it. I'd
tirely insensible either of pain or pleasure but from  break that stout heart of his in less than a forttheir own dear persons; and according as we flat- night. I'd make him knowter or affront their beauty, they admire or forsake   Mrs. S. Pray, be silent. You know my resoours: they are not worthy even of our displeasure: lution.
and, in short, abusing them is but so much ill   Cla. I know you have no resolution.
nature merely thrown away. But the man of   IMrs. S. You are a mad creature, but I forgive
sense, who values himself upon his high abilities, you.
or the man of wit, who thinks a woman beneath    Cla. It is all meant kindly, I assure you. But
his conversation-to see such the subjects of our since you wont be persuaded to your good, I will
power, the slaves of our frowns and smiles, is glo- think of making you easy in your submission, as
rious indeed!                                soon as ever I can. I dare say I may have the.Mrs. S. No man of sense, or wit either, if he same lodging I had last year: I can know immebe truly so, ever did or ever can think a woman diately.-I see my chair: and so, ladies both, adieu.
of merit beneath his wisdom to converse with.                                      [Exit.
Jac. Nor will such a woman value herself upon   Jac. Come, Mrs. Strictland, we shall but just
making such a lover uneasy.                  have time to get home before Mr. Bellamy reCta. Amazing! Why, every woman can give turns.
ease. You cannot be in earnest.                Mrs. S. Let us return then to our common
Mrs. S. I can assure you she is, and has put in prison. You must forgive my ill nature, Jacintha,
practice the doctrine she has been teaching.  if I almost wish Mr. Strictland may refuse tojoiln
Cla. Impossible'! Who ever heard the name of your hand where your heart is given.
love mentioned without an idea of torment. But   Jac. Lord, Madam, what do you mean?
pray let us hear.              Mirs. S. Self-interest only, child. Methinks
Jac. Nay, there is nothing to hear, that I your company in the country would soften all my
know of.                                    sorrows, and I could bear them patiently.
Cla. So I suspected indeed. The novel is not           Re-enter CLARINDA.
likely to be long, when the lady is so well pre-e-    CL                DA.
pared for the denouement.'Ya. Dear Mrs. Strictland.-I am so confused,
pared for the denouement.
Jac. The novel, as you call it, is not so short as and so out of breathyou may imagine. I and my spark have been   Mrs. S. Why, what's the matter' 
long acquainted: as he was continually with my   Jac. I protest, you fright me.
father, I soon perceived he loved me; and the   Cla. Oh! I have no time to recover myself, I
manner of his expressing that love was what am so frightened and so pleased. In short then,
pleased and won me most.                    the dear man is here.
Mrs. S. Here-Lord —Where?
Cla. Well, and how was it'  the old bait, flat-    lrs. S. Here-Lord-Where'
tery; dear flattery, I warrant ye.             Cla. I met him this instant; I saw him at a
Jac. No, indeed; I had not the pleasure of distance, turned short, and ran hither directly.
hearing my person, wit, and beauty, painted out Let us go home.-I tell you he follows me.
with forced praises; but I had a more sensible de- Mrs. S. Why, had you not better stay, and let
light, in perceiving the drift of his whole behaviour him speak to you.
was to make every hour of my time pass away    Cia. Ay!-But then-he wont know where I
agreeably.                                  live, without my telling him.
a blrs. S. Come then. Ha, ha, ha!
Cla. The rustic! what, did he never say a     rs.. Come then. Ha, ha, ha.handsome thing of your person i               Jac. Ay, poor Clarinda!-Allons donc.
Mrs. S. He did, it seems, what pleased her                                   [Exeunt.
better; he flattered her good sense, as much as a         Enter FRANKLY.
less cunning lover would have done her beauty.  Frank. Sure that must be she! her shape and
Cla. On my conscience, you are well matched. easy air cannot be so exactly copied by another.
Jac. So well, that if my guardian denies me Now, you young rogue, Cupid, guide me directly
happiness (and this evening he is to pass his final to her, as you would the surest arrow in your
sentence,) nothing is left but to break my prison, quiver.                        [Exit.
and fly into my lover's arms for safety.      SCENE II —A  Sreet before STRICTLAND'S
Cia. Hey-day! o'my conscience, thou art a                    door.
brave girl. Thou art the very first prude that                 D
ever had honesty enough to avow her passion for  Enter CLARINDA, JxClNDii, andMRs.
a man.                                                      STRICTLAND.
a man.
Jac. And thou art the first finished coquette  CGa. Lord!  Dear Jacintha-for Heaven%
who ever had any honesty at all.            sake make haste: he'll overtake us before ws,
Mrs. S. Come, come; you are both too good get in.
ftr either of those characters.               Jac. Overtake us! why, he is not in sight
42




494                 THE SUSPICIOUS HUSBAND.                                    [ACT II.
(C/a. Is he not 1 Ha! Sure I have not dropped know not, but you may leave London as abruptly
my fan.-I would not have him lose sight of me as you did Bath.
neither.
nEnter LUCETTA.
Mrs. S. Here he is-                                      Enter LUC
Cia. In-In-In, then.                         Luc. Madam, the tea is ready, and my mistress
Jac. [Laughing.] What, without your fan?  waits for you.
Cia. Pshaw! I have lost nothing.-In, in, I'll   Cla. Very well, I come. [Exit LJ]CETTA ] You
follow you.                                  see, Sir, I am called away: but I hope you will
[Exeunt into the house, CLARINDA last, excuse it, when I leave you with an assurance,
that the business which brings me to town will
is imossibEnter      d,RANKLY.  keep me here some time.
Frank. It is impossible I should be deceived.   Frank. How generous it is in you thus to ease
My eyes, and the quick pulses at the heart, as- the heart that knew not how-to ask for such a
sure me it is she. Ha!'tis she, by Heaven! and favour-I fear to offend-But this house I supthe door left open too.-A fair invitation, by all pose is yours?
the rules of love.                   [Exit.   Cla. You will hear of me, if not find- me, here.
SCENE III. —An Apartment in STRICTLAND'S   Frank. I then take my leave.            [Exit.
House.                      Cla. I'm undone!-He has me!
Enter CLARINDA, FRANKLY following her.             Enter MRS. STRICTLAND.
Frank. I hope, Madam, you will excuse the   MPrs. S. Well; how do you find yourself?
boldness of this intrusion, since it is owing to your   Cla. I do find-that if he goes on as he has
own behaviour that I am forced to it.       begun, I shall certainly have him without giving
Cia. To my behaviour, Sir?               him the least uneasiness.
Frank. You cannot but remember me at Bath,     rs. S. A very terrible prospect, indeed!
Madam, where I so lately had the favour of your   Cla. But I must tease him a little-Where is
hand-' Jacintha? how will she laugh at me, if I become
Cla. I do remember, Sir; but I little expected a pupil of hers, and learn to give ease! No; posiany wrong interpretation of my behaviour from  tively, I shall never do it.
one who had so much the appearance of a gen-   Mlrs. S. Poor Jacintha has met with what I
tleman.                                     feared from Mr. Strictland's temper, an utter deFrank. What I saw of your behaviour was so nial. I know not why, but he really grows more
just, it would admit of no misrepresentation. I and more ill-natured.
only feared, whatever reason you had to conceal   Cla. Well; now do I heartily wish my affairs
your name from me at Bath, you might have the were in his power a little, that I might have a
same to do it-now; and though my happiness few difficulties to surmount: I love difficulties:
was so nearly concerned, I rather chose to venture and yet, I don't know-it is as well as it is.
thus abruptly after you, than be impertinently in-   Mrs.  Ha, ha, ha! Come, the tea waits.
quisitive.                                                                      [Exeunt.
Cla. Sir, there seems to be so much civility in        Enter STRICTLAND.
your rudeness, that I can easily forgive it; though    Strict. These doings in my house distract me.
I don't see how your happiness is at all con- I met a fine gentleman; when I inquired who he
cerned.                                      was-why, he came to Clarinda.  I met a footFrank. No, Madam! I believe you are the man too, and he came to Clarinda. I shall not
only lady who could, with the qualifications you be easy till she is decamped. My wife had the
are mistress of, be insensible of the power they character of a virtuous woman-and they have
give you over the happiness of our sex.      not been long acquainted: but then they were by
Cia. How vain should we women be, if you themselves at Bath-That hurts-that hurt —
gentlemen were but wise! If you did not all-of they must be watched, they must; I know them,
you say the same things to every woman, we I know all their wiles, and the best of them are
should certainly be foolish enough to believe some but hypocrites-Ha!
of you were in earnest.
Frank. Could you have the least sense of what  Re-enter LUCETTA, who passes over the Stage.
I feel whilst I am speaking, you would know me Suppose I bribe the maid: she is of their council,
to be in earnest, and what I say to be the dictates the manager! of their secrets: it shall be so; moof a heart that admires you; may I not say that- ney will do it, and I shall know all that passes.
Cla. Sir, this is carrying the-           Lucetta!
Frank. When I danced with you at Bath, I   Luc. Sir.
was charmed with your whole behaviour; and    Strict. Lucetta!
felt the same tender adiniration: but my hope of,  Luc. Sir.-If he should suspect, and search me
seeing you afterwards kept in my passion till a now, I'm undone.                 [Aside.
more proper time should offer. You cannot there-   Strict. She is a sly girl, and may be servicefore blame me now, if, after having lost you once, able. [Aside.]-Lucetta, you are a good girl, and
I do not suffer an inexcusable modesty to prevent have an honest face. I like it. It looks as if it
my making use of this second opportunity.   carried no deceit in it-Yet, if she should be false,
Cla. This behaviour, Sir, is so different from  she can do me most harm.       [Aside.
the gaiety of your conversation then, that I am    Luc. Pray, Sir, speak out.
at a loss how to answer you.                   Strict. No; she is a woman, and it is the highFrank. There is nothing, Madam, which could:est imprudence to trust her.      [Aside.
take off from the gaiety with which your presence   Luc. I am not able to understand you.
inspires every heart, but the fear of losing you.   Strict. I am glad of it. I would not have you
lowv can I be otherwise than as I: am, when I understand me




MRNE IV.]           THE SUSPICIOUS HUSBAND.                                        495
Luc. Then what did you call me for?-If he I shall trouble you; I only know that my Jacinshould be in love with my face, it would be rare tha has taken such a resolution.
port.                                [Aside.   J. Meg. Therefore we should be prepared;
Strict. Tester, ay, Tester is the proper person. for, when once a lady has such a resolution in her
[Aside.] Lucetta, tell Tester I want him.    head, sheis upon the rack till she executes it.
Luc. Yes, Sir.-Mighty udd, this! It gives'Fore gad, Mr. Bellamy, this must be a girl of
me time, however, to send Buckle with this letter fire.
to his master.                 [Aside; exit.               Enter FRANKLY.
Strict. Could I but be once well satisfied that
my wife had really finished me, I believe I should   Frank. Buxom  and lively as the bounding
be as quiet as if I were sure to the contrary: but doe-Fair as painting can express, or youthful
whilst I am in doubt, I am miserable.        poets fancywhenthey love  Tolderollol!
[Singing and dancing.
Enter TESTER.      -            Bel. Who is this you talk thus rapturously of?
Tes. Does your honour please to want me?:    Frank. Who should it be, but-I shall know
Strict. Ay, Tester-I need not fear. The ho- her name to-morrow.      [Sings and dances.
nesty of his service, and the goodness of his look,  - J. Meg. What is the matter, ho! Is the man
make me secure. I will trust him. [Aside.]-Tes- mad?
ter, I think I have been a tolerable good master to   Frank. Even so, gentlemen; as mad as love
you.                                         and joy can make me.
Tes. Yes, Sir-very tolerable.               Bel. But inform me whence this joy proceeds.
Strict. [ like his simplicity well. It promises   Frank. Joy! joy! my lads! she's found! my
honesty. [Aside.] 1 have a secret, Tester, to im- Perdita! my charmer!
part to you: a thing of the greatest importance.   J. Meg.'Egad! her charms have bewitched
Look upon me, and don't stand picking your fin- the man, I think.-But who is she.
gers.                                          Bel. Come, come, tell us who is this wonder!
Tes. Yes, Sir.-No, Sir.                     Frank. But will you say nothing?
Strict. But will not his simplicity expose him    Bel. Nothing, as I live.
the more to Lucetta's cunning?  Yes, yes; she   Frank. Nor you?
will worm the secret out of him. I.had better   J. Meg. I'll be as silent as the gravetrust her with it at once.-So-I will. rAside.]   Frank. With a tombstone upon it, to tell
Tester, go send Lucetta hither.              every one whose dust it carries.
T7,. Yes, Sir-Here she is.                  J. Meg. I'll be as secret as a debauched prudeRe-enter LUCETTA.                 Frank. Whose sanctity every one suspects.
Jack, Jack,'tis not in thy nature; keeping a se
Lucetta, my master wants you.                cret is worse to thee than keeping thy accounts.
Stricst. Get you down, Tester.            But to leave fooling, listen to me both, that I may
Lc. Yes, ySir.       m[Eit.  whisper it into your ears, that echo may not catch
Luc.  If you want me, Sir, I beg you would the sinking sound.-I cannot tell who she is
make haste, for I have a thousand things to do.  faith.-   o    l de rol losStrict. Well, well; what I have to say will not   J. Meg. Mad! mad! very mad!
take up much time, could I but persuade you to   Frank. All I know of her is, that she is a
be honest.                                  charming woman, and has given me liberty to viLuc. Why, Sir, I hope you don't suspect my sit her again-Bellamy,'tis she the lovely she.
a.honesty?.                                                    [Apart to BELLAMY.
Strict. Well, well; 1 believe you honest.   Bel. So I did suppose.             [Apart
uWhat be [Shuts the door.   J. Meg. Poor Charles! for Heaven's sake, Mr.
Luc. What can be at the bottom of all this?   Bellamy, persuade him to go to his chamber,
[Aside. whilst I prepare every thing for you at home.
Strict. So; we cannot be too private. Come Adieu. [Aside to BELLAMY.] B'ye, Charles. Ha,
hither, hussy; nearer yet.                   ha, ha!                               [Exit.
Luc. Lord, Sir! you are not going to be rude.   Fr ank. Oh, love! thou art a gift worthy of a
I vow I will call out.                      god indeed! Dear Bellamy, nothing now could
Strict. Hold your tongue-Does the baggage add to my pleasure, but to see my friend as deep
laugh'at me? She does; she mocks me, and will         am.
reveal it to my wife; and her insolence upon it   Bel. I show my heart is capable of love by the
will be more insupportable to me than cuckoldom  friendship it bears to you.
itself. [Aside.] I have not leisure now Lucetta —   Frank. The light of friendship looks but dim
Some other time-Hush! Did not the bell ring? before the brighter flame of love; love is the
Yes, yes; my wife wants you. Go, go, go to her. sprin of cheerfulness and joy. Why, how dull
[Pushes her out.] There is no hell on earth like and phlegmatic do you show to me now; whilst I
being a slave to suspicion.          [Ex tt.am all life; light as feathered Mercury.-You,
SCENE IT/.-The Piazza, Covent Garden.  dull and cold as earth and water; I, light, and
SENtErIV. BELLAMY Pia, JCKoMentGarde.    warm as.air and fire.-These are the only eleEnter:BELLAMY and JACK MEGGOT.        ments in love's world! Why, Bellamy, for shame
Bel. Nay, nay; I would not put your family get thee a mistress, and be sociable.
into any confusion.                            Bel. Frankly, I am now going toJ Meg. None in life, my dear, I assure you.   Frank. Why that face now?  Your humble
I will go and order every thing this instant for servant, Sir. My flood of joy shall not be stopped
her reception                                by your melancholy fits, I assure you.  [Going.
Bel. You are too obliging, Sir; but you need   Bel. Stay, Frankly, I beg you stay. What
not be in this hurry, for I am in no certainty when would you say now if I were really in love?




496                 THE SUSPICIOUS HUSBAND                                      rACT IL
Frank. Why faith, thou hast such romantic   Frank. Why this must be a girl of spirit
notions of sense and honour, that I know not faith!
what to say.                                   Bel. And beauty equal to her sprightliness.
Bel. To confess the truth then, I am in love.  I love her, and she loves me. She has thirty
Frank. And do you confess it as if it were a sin? thousand pounds to her fortune.
Proclaim it aloud; glory in it boast of it as your   Ran. The devil she has!
greatest virtue. Swear it with a lover's oath, and   Bel. And never plays at cards.
I will believe you.                            Ran. Nor does any one thing like any other
Bel. Why then, by the bright eyes of her I woman. I suppose.
love-                                          Frank. Not so, I hope, neither.
Frank. Well said!                            Bel. Oh, Frankly, Ranger, I never felt such
Bel. By all that's tender, amiable, and soft, in ease before! the secret's out, and you don't laugh
woman-                                       at me.
Frank. Bravo!                               Frank. Laugh at thee for loving a woman with
Bel. I swear, I am as true an enamorato as thirty thousand pounds? thou art a most unacever tagged rhyme.                           countable fellow.
Frank. And art thou then thoroughly in love?   Ran. How the devil could he work her up to
Come to my arms, thou dear companion of my this! I never could have had the face to have done
joys.                            [Embrace. it. But-I know not how-there is a degree of
Enter RANGssurance in you modest gentlemen, which we
Enter RANGER;                impudent fellows never can come up to.
Ran. Why-Hey!-Is there never a wench to   Bel. Oh! your servant, good Sir. You should
be got for love or money?                   not abuse me now, Ranger, but do all you can to
Bel. Pshaw! Ranger here?                  assist me.
Ran. Yes, Ranger is here, and perhaps does   Ran. Why, look ye, Bellamy, I am a damnable
not come so impertinently as you may imagine. unlucky fellow, and so will have nothing to do in
Faith! I think I have the knack of finding out this affair: I'll take care to be out of the way, so
secrets. Nay, never look so queer.-H-Iere is a as to do you no harm; that's all 1 can answer
letter, Mr. Bellamy, that seems to promise you for; and so-success attendyou. [Going.] I canbetter diversion than your hugging one another.  not leave you quite to yourself neither; for if this
Bel. What do you mean?                     should prove a round-house affair, as I make no
Ran. Do you deal much in these paper to- doubt it will, I believe I may have more interest
kens?                                       there than you; and so, Sir, you may hear of me
Bel. Oh the dear, kind creature! it is from her- at-                       [Whispers.
self                     [Apart to FRANKLY.   Bel. For shame, Ranger! the most noted gamRan. 5What, is it a pair of laced shoes she ing-house in town.
wants? or have the boys broke her windows?    Ran. Forgive me this once, my boy. I must
Bel. Hold your profane tongue!            go, faith, to pay a debt of honour to some of the
Frank. Nay, pr'ythee, Bellamy, don't keep it greatest rascals in town.           [Exit.
to yourself as if her whole affections were con-   FTrank. But where do you design to lodge her?
tained in those few lines.                     Bel. At Mr. Meggot's-He is already gone to
Ran. Pr'ythee let him alone to his silent rap- prepare for her reception.
tures. But it is as I always said-your grave   Frank. The properest place in the world: his
men ever are the greatest whore-masters.     aunts will entertain her with honour.
Bel. I cannot be disobliged now, say what you   Bel. And the newness of her acquaintance will
will: but how came this into your hands?    prevent its being suspected.-Frankly, give me
Ran. Your servant Buckle and I changed com- your hand; this is a very critical time.
missions; he went on my errand, and I came on   Frank. Pho! none of your musty reflections
his.                                         now! When a man is in love, to the very brink
Bel.'Sdeath! I want him this very instant.   of matrimony, what the devil has he to do with
Ran. He will be here presently; but I demand Plutarch and Seneca? Here is your servant, with
to know what I have brought you.            a face full of business-I'll leave you together-I
Prank. Ay, ay! out with it! you know we shall be at the King's Arms, where, if you want
never blab, and may be of service.          my assistance, you may find me.       [Exait.
Bel. Twelve o'clock! oh, the dear hour!                    Enter BUCKLE.
Ran. Why it is a pretty convenient time, indeed.                                          Bel. So, Buckle, you seem to have your hands
Bel. By all that's happy, she promises in this full.
letter here-to leave her guardian this very night,   Buck. Not fuller than my head, Sir, I promise
and run away with me.                       you. You have had your letter, I hope?
Rani. I-ow is this?                          Bel. Yes, and in it she refers me to you for my
Bel. Nay, I know not how myself-she says at instructions.
the bottom ---                                 Buck. Why, the affair stands thus. As Mr.
Yotu? servant has ftull instructions from  Lu -Strictland sees the door locked and barred ever
oetta, how to equip me for my expedition. I     ight himself and takes the key with him, it 
ot trust myself home e with you to-night, because impossible for us to escape any way but through
not trust myself home with you to-night, because the window: for which purpose I have a ladder
I know it is inconvenient; therefore I beg youow: for which purpose  have a lad
would procure me a t'aging; it is no'matter how  of rops.
fat, off mny guard~,~n's.- Yours,  JACINTH A.
fa   guard s  Yours,  JAC A  Buck. And because a hoop, as the ladies wear
Ran. Carry her to a bagnio, and there you may them now, is not the most decent dress to come
Edige with her.                              down a ladder in, I have in this other bundle a




SCEIE I.1]            THE SUSPICIOUS HUSBAND.                                      497
suit of boy's clothes, which I believe will fit her; You may go home. [Gives the Servant money.]
at least, it will serve the time she wants it.-You  I am safe.            [Exit SERVANT.
will soon be for pulling it off, I suppose.    Jac. Sure it must be he! Mr. Bellamy-Sir.
Bel. Why, you are in spirits, you rogue.     Frank. Does he not call me?        [Aside.
Buck. These I am now to convey to Lucetta   Cia. Ha I! who's that? I am frightened out of
-Have you any thing to say, Sir?            my wits-A man!                       [Aside.
Bel. Nothing, but that I will not fail at the   Jac. Is it you?
hour appointed. Bring me word to Mr. Meg-   Frank. Yes, yes;'tis I,'tis I.
got's how you go on. Succeed in this, and it  Jac. Listen at the door.
shall make your fortune.           [Exeunt.   Frank. I will;'tis open-There is no noise:
~                                          all's quiet.
ACT III.                      Cla. Sure it is my spark-and talking to JaSCENE I.-The Street before MR. STRICT-  cintha.
LAND'S House.                  Frank. You may come down the ladder —
quick.
Enter BELLAMY, in a Chairman's coat.       Jac. Catch it then, and hold it.
Bel. How tediously have the minutes passed   Frank. I have it. Now I shall see what sort
these last few hours! and the envious rogues will of mettle my young spark is made of.   [Aside.
fly, no lightning quicker, when we would have    Cla. With a ladder too! I'll assure you. But.
them stay. —Hold! let me not mistake-this is I must see the end of it.            [Aside.
the house. [Pulls out his watch.] By Heaven it  Jac. Hark! did not somebody speak? 
is not yet the hour!-I hear somebody coming.   Frank. No, no; be not fearful-'Sdeath! we
The moon's so bright-I had better not be here are discovered!
till the happy instant comes.        [Exit.                [FRANKLY and CLARINDA retire.
Enter FRANKLY.                              Re-enter LUCE T T A.
Frank. WVine is no antidote to love, but rather   Luc. Hist! hist! are you ready?
feeds the flame; now am I such an amorous   Jac. Yes. May I venture?
puppy, that I cannot walk straight home, but   Luc. Now is your time. He is in high confermust come out of my way to take a view of my ence with his privy counsellor, Mr. Tester. You.
queen's palace by moonlight-Ay, here stands may come down the back stairs, and I'll let you
the temple where my goddess is adored-the door's out,                              rEit.
open.                              [Retires.   Jac. I will, I will; and am heartily glad of it.
Enter LUCE T TA.                                                     [Exit.
Luc.  C[Under the windouw.] Madam, Madarm, Frank, [Advancing.] May be so; but you ant
hist!  Madam-How shall I make her hear?' I shall have a few words before you get off so
cleanly.
JACINTHA in boy's clothes appears at the window.   Cla. [Advancing.] How lucky it was I came
Jac. Who is there? What's the matter?    home at this instant. I shall spoil his sport, I beLuc. It is I, Madam; you must not pretend to lieve. [Aside.] Do you know me, Sir?
stir till I give the word; you'll be discovered if   Frank. I am amazed! You here! This was
you do.                                      unexpected indeed!
Frank. What do I see? A man! My heart   Cla. Why, I believe I do come a little unexmisgives me.                         [Aside. pectedly, but I shall amaze you more. I know the
Luc. My master is below, sitting up for Mrs. whole course of your -amour: all the process of
Clarinda. He raves as if he was mad about her your mighty passion from its first rise.being out so late.                             Frank. What is all this?
Frank. Here is some intrigue or other. I must   Cla. To the very conclusion, which you vainly
see more of this before I give further way to love. hope to effect this night.
[Aside.   Frank. By Heaven, Madam, I know not what
Luc. One minute he is in the street: the next you mean! I came hither purely to contemplate
he is in the kitchen: now he will lock her out, on your beauties.
and then he'll stay himself, and see what figure    Cla. Any beauties, Sir, I find will serve your
she makes when she vouchsafes to venture home. turn. Did I not hear you talk to her at the winJac. I long to have it over: get me but once dow?
out of his house.                              Frank. Her?
Frank, Cowardly rascal! would I were in his   Cla. Blush, blush, for shame; but be assured
place!                              [Aside. you have seen the last both of Jacintha and me.
Luc. If I can but fix him any where, I can let                                   [Exit.
you out myself.-You have the ladder ready, in   Frank. Jacintha! Hear me, Madam- She is
case of necessity.                       gone. This must certainly be Bellamy's' mistress,
Jac. Yes, yes.            [Exit LUCETTA. and I have fairly ruined all his scheme. This it
Frank. The laddei This must lead to some is to be in luck.
discovery; I shall watch you, my young gentle-        Re-enter BELLAMY, behind.
man, I shall.                        [Aside.   Bel. Ha! a man under the window! [Aside.
Enter CLARINDA and SERVANT.             Frank. No; here she comes, and f may conC(a. This whist is a most enticing devil. I am  vey her to him.
afraid I am too late for Mr. Strictland's sober   Re-enter JACINTHA, and runs to FRANKLY.
hours.                                         Jac. I have at last got to you. Let's haste
Jac. Ha! I hear a noise!                   away-Oh!
Cia. No; I see a light in Jacintha's window.   Frank. Be not frightened, lady.
VOL. I... 3 R     42*




498                 THE SUSPrIrctTS HUSBAND.                                   [ACT'rI
Jac. Oh! I am abused, betrayed!            Luc. Then you had better be undressing. He
Bel. Betrayed!-Frankly!                  may return immediately.
Frank. Bellamy!                                [As she is sitting at the toilet, enter RA.NG'P.
Bel. I can scarce believe it, though I see it.     behind.
Draw-                                          Ran. Young and beautiful.          [Aside.
Prank. Hear me, Bellamy-Lady —               Luc. I have watched him pretty narrowly of
Jac. Stay-do not fight!                   late, and never once suspected till this mornFrank. I am innocent; it is all a mistake!    ingJac. For my sake, be quiet! We shall all be   Mrs. S. And who gave you authority to watch
Discovered! the family is alarmed!         his actions, or pry into his secrets.
Bet. You are obeyed. Mr. Frankly, there is   Luc. I hope, Madam, you are not angry- I
but one way-                                 thought it might have been of service to you to
Frank. I understand you. Any time but now. know my master was jealous.
You will certainly be discovered! To-morrow, at   Ran. And her husband jealous! If she does
your chambers.                               but send away the maid, I am happy.   [Aside.
Bel. Till then farewell.                     lIrs. S. Leave me.               [Angrily,
[Exeunt BELLAMY and JACINTHA.   Luc. This it is to meddle with other people's
Frank. Then, when he is cool, 1 may be heard;* affairs.                [Exit in anger.
and the real, though suspicious account of this   Ran. What a lucky dog I am! I never made
matter may be believed. Yet, amidst all this per- a gentleman a cuckold before. Now impudence
plexity, it pleases me to find my fair incognita is assist me.                    [Aside.
jealous of my love.                            Mrs. S. [Rises.] Provoking! I am sure I never
Strict. [Within.] Where's Lucetta?  Search have deserved it of him.
every place.                                   Ran. Oh, cuckold him by all means, Madam:
Frank. Hark! the cry is up! I must be gone. I am your man! [She shrieks.] Oh, fie, Madam!
[Exit.: if you squall so cursedly, you will be discovered.
SIrs. S. Discovered! What mean you, Sir.
Enter STRICTLAND, TEsTER, and SERVANTs.  Do you come to abuse me 
Strict. She's gone! she's lost! I am cheated!   Ran. I'll do my endeavour, Madam; you can
pursue her! seek her!                        have no more.
Tes. Sir, all her clothes are in her chamber.  Mrs. S. Vhence came you'  How got you
Serv. Sir, Mrs. Clarinda said she was in boy's here 1
zlothes.                                       Ran. Dear Madam, so long as I am here, what
Strict. Ay, ay, I know it-Bellamy has her.- signifies how I got here, or whence I came? But
some along-pursue her.            [Exeunt. that I may satisfy your curiosity, first, as to your
" Whence came you 1" I answer, out of the street;
Enter RANGER.                 and to your " How got you here l" I say, in at
Ran. Hark!-Was not the noise this way?-  the window; it stood so invitingly open, it was
No, there is no game stirring. This same goddess. irresistible.  But, Madam —ou were going to
Diana, shines so bright with her chastity, that undress. I beg I may not incommode you.'egad, I believe the wenches are ashamed to look   lIrs. S. This is the most consummate piece of
her in the face. Now I am in an admirable mood impudence!for a frolic-have wine in my head, and money in   Ran. For Heaven's sake have one drop of
my pocket, and so am furnished out for the can- pity for a poor young fellow, who long has loved
nonading of any countess in Christendom. Ha! you.
what have we here! a ladder!-this cannot be   Mrs. S. What would the fellow have?
placed here for nothing-and a window open! Is   Ran. Your husband's usage will excuse you to
i t love or mischief now that is going on within'. the world.
I care not which-I am in a right cue for either.   Mrs. S. I cannot bear this insolence! help!
Up I go, neck or nothing.-Stay-do I not run a help!
greater chance of spoiling sport, than I do of   Ran. Oh, hold that clamorous tongue, Mamaking any' that I hate as much as I love the dam!-Speak one word more, and I am gone, poother. There can be no harm in seeing how the sitively gone.
land lies-I'll up. [Goes up sqftly.] All is hush-  lirs. S. Gone! so I would have you.
Ha! a light, and a woman! by all that's lucky,   Ran. Lord, Madam, you are so hasty.
neither old nor crooked! I'll in-Ha! she is gone.I/Irs. S. Shall I not speak when a thief, a robagain! I will after her. [Gets in at the window.] ber, breaks into my house at midnight' help!
And for fear of the squalls of virtue, and the pur- help!
suit of the family, I will make sure of the ladder.   Ran. Ha! no one hears. Now, Cupid, assist
Now, fortune be my guide.                    me! [Aside.] Lookye, Madam, I never could make
fine speeches, and cringe, and bow, and fawrn
SCENE II. —-MRS. STRICTLAND's Dressing- and flatter, and lie; I have said more to you alroom.                    ready, than I ever said to a woman in such circumstances in all my life. But since I find that
nte   M. ST,fyoued by LCE.  OU will vleld to no persuasion to your good, I
lMrs. S. Well, I am in great hopes she will es- will gently force you to be grateful. [ Throwe
cape.                                        down his hat and seizes her.] Come, come, unLuc. Never fear, Madam; the lovers have the  bend that brow, and look more kindly on me.
start of him, and I warrant they'll keep it.   Mrs. S. For shame, Sir! thus on my knees let
lfrs. S. Were Mr. Strictland ever to suspect me beg fior mercy.                [Kneels.
lty being privy to her flight, I know not what   Ran. And thus on mine, let me beg the samne.'uight be the consequence.                                  [Kneels, catches, and kisses her




sCENEI.]              THE SUSPICIOUS HUSBAND.                                     499
Strict. [Within.] Take away her sword! she'll 1rs. S. What ground, what cause have you
hurt herself!                               for jealousy, when you yourself can witness your
MlJrs. S. Oh, Heavens! that is my husband's leaving me was accidental, your return uncertain,
voice-!                                     and expected even sooner than it happened 3 The
Ran. [Rises.] The devil it is!             abuse is gross and palpable.
Strict. [Within.] Take awayher sword, I say,   Strict. Why,; this is true.!
and. then I can close with her.                Mrs. S. Indeed, Jacintha, I am innocent.
Mrs. S. He is upon the stairs, now coming up!   Strict. And yet.this hat must belong to someI am undone if he sees you.                  body.
Ran. Pox on him, I must decamp then. Which    Jac. Dear Mrs. Strictland, be not concerned;
way?                                        when he has diverted himself a little longer with
Mllrs. S. Through this passage to the next itchamber...                       Strict. Ha!-.
Ran. And so into the street. With all my heart.   Jac. I suppose he will give me my hat again.
You may be: perfectly easy, Madam; mum's the   Strict. Your hat I
word; I never blab.-I shall not leave: off so, but   Jac. Yes, my hat. You brushed it from my
wait till the last moment.  [Aside, and exit. side yourself, and then trod upon it; whether on
Mrs. S. So he's gone. What could I have purpose to abuse this lady, or no, you best know
saidj if he- had been discovered!           yourself.'
Strict. It cannot be-'tis all: a. lie.
Enter MR. STRICTLAND, drives JACINTHA,
CEnter M. STRIOTLAND, drivwes JAcINvA,  Jac. Believe so still; with all my heart;- but
the hat is mine. Now, Sir, who does it belong to?
Strict. Once more, my pretty masculine Ma-                   [Snatches it, and puts it on.
dam, you are welcome home; and I hope to keep   Strict. Why did she look so?
you somewhat closer than I have done; for eight   Jac. Your violence of temper is too much for
o'clock to-morrow morning is the latest hour you her. You use her ill, and then suspect her for
shall stay in this lewd town.                that confusion which you yourself occasion.
Jac. Oh, Sir, when once a girl; is equipped   Strict. Why did not you set me. right at first 3
with a hearty resolution, it is not your worship's: Jac. Your hard usage of me, Sir, is a sufficient
sagacity, nor the great chain at your gate, can reason why I should not be much concerned to
hinder her from doing what she has a mind.   undeceive you at all.'Tis for your lady's sake I
Strict. Oh, Lord, Lord! how this love improves do it now; who deserves much better of you than
a young lady's modesty.                      to be thus exposed for every slight suspicion. See
Jac. Am I to blame to seek for happiness any where she sits-go to her.
where, when you are resolved to make me miser-   Mrs. S. [Rises.] Indeed, Mr. Strictland, I
able here?                                   have a soul as much aboveStrict. I have this night prevented your making   Strict. Whew! Now you have both found your
yourself so, and will endeavour to do it for the tongues, and I must bear with their. eternal
future. I have you safe now, and the devil shall- rattle.
not get you out of my clutches again. I have:  Jac. For shame, Sir! go to her, and —
locked the doors and barred them, I warrant you.   Strict. Well, well, what shall I say? I forgive
So here, [Gives.- her a. candle.] troop to your -all is over. I, I, I forgive.
chamber, and to bed, whilst you are well. Go!:    rs. S. Forgive! What do you mean 2
[ Treads on RANGER'S hat.] What's here? a hat!   Jac. Forgive her! is that all  - Consideri Sira man's hat in my wife's dressing-room!       Strict. Hold, hold your confounded tongues,
[Looks at the hat. and I'll do any thing. I'll ask pardon-or forMrs. S. What shall I do           [Aside. give-or any thing. Good now, be quiet-I ask
Strict. [Takes up the hat and looks at MRs. your pardon-there-[Kisses her.] For you, MaSTRICTI.AND;] Ha! by hell, I see,'tis.true!  dam, I am infinitely obliged to you,: and I could
Mrs. S. My fears confound me.. I dare not tell find in my heart to make you a return in kind, by
the truth, and know not how to frame a lie!  marrying you to a beggar, but I have more con[Aside.  science. Come, come, to your chamber. Here,
Strict. Mrs. Strictland, Mrs. Strictland, how, take this candle.
came this hat into your chamber 3
Re-enter LuCETTA, pertly.
Luc. Are you that way disposed, my fine lady,
and will not trust me 1             [Aside.   Luc. Sir, if you please, I will light my young
Strict. Speak, wretch, speak!            lady to bed.
Jac. I could not-have suspected this.  [Aside.   Strict. No, no! no such thing, good Madam.
Strict. Why dost thou not speak 3         She shall have nothing but her pillow to consult
Mrs. S. Sir-                              this night, I assure you. So in, in. [ The ladies
Strict. Guilt-'tis guilt that ties your tongue! take leave; exit JACINTHA.] Good night, kind
~Luc. I must bring her off, however.  [Aside. Madam.
Strict. My fears are just, and I am miserable   Luc. Pox of the jealous fool! we might both
-thou worst of women!                       have escaped out of the window purely. [Aside.
/Mrs. S. I know my innocence, and can bear   Strict. Go, get you down; and, do you hear,
this no longer.                              order the coach to be ready in the morning at
Strict. I know you are false, and'tis I who eight exactly. [Exit LUCETTA.] So she is satfe
will bear my injuries no longer.             till to-morrow, and then for the country; and
[Both walk about in a passion. when she is there, I can manage as I think fit.
Luc. [Apart to JACINTHIA.] IS not the hat   Mrs. S. Dear Mr. Strictlandyours. Own it, Madam.                         Strict. I am not in a humour, Mrs. Strictland,
[Takes away JACINTHA'S hat, and exit. fit to talk with you. Go to bed. I will endeavour




500                 THE SUSPICIOUS HUSBAND.                                   [ACTr Il.
to get the better of my temper; if 1 can, I'll follow    Jac. Here's a special fellow.  [Asidea
you.-[Exit MRS. STRICTLAND.] How despicable   Ran. Turn then an eye of pity on my sufferhave I made myself!                   [Exit. ings; and by Heaven, one tender look from those
SCENE 1 -Another Chamber.  piercing eyes, one touch of this soft handSCENE III.-Another Chamber.                                        Takes her hand.
[ Takes her hand.
Enter RANGER.                   Jac. Hold, Sir, no nearer.
Ran. All seems hushed again, and T Inay ven- Ran. Would more than repay whole years of
ture out. I may as well sneak off whilst I aim in pain.
a whole skin. And shall so much love and claret Jac. Hear me; but keep your distance, or I
as I am in possession of only lull me to sleep, raise the family.
when it might so much better keep me waking?   Ran. Blessings on her tongue, only for prattling
Forbid it, fortune, and forbid it, love. This is a to me.                        [Aside.
chamber, perhaps, of some bewitching female, and   Jac. Oh, for a moment's courage, and I shall
I may~ yet be happy. Ha! 0a light! the door shame him from his purpose. [Aside.] If I were
opens. A boy! pox on him!          [Retires  certain so much gallantry had been shown on my
account onlyEnter JACINTHA, with a candle.         Ran. You wrong your beauty to think that
Jac. I have been listening at the door, and any other could have power to draw me hither.
from their silence, I conclude they are peaceably By all the little loves that play about your lips, I
gone to bed together.                       swearRan. A pretty boy, faith; he seems uneasy.  Jac. You came to me, and me alone.
[Aside.   Ran. By all the thousand graces that inhabit
Jac. [Sitting down.] What an unlucky night there, you, and only you, have drawn me hither.
has this proved to me! every circumstance has   Jac. Well said-Could I but believe you-'fallen out unhappily.                         Ran. By Heaven she comes!  Ah, honest
Ran. He talks aloud. I'll listen.    [Aside. Ranger, I never knew thee fail.    [Aside.
Jac. But what most amazes me is, that Clarinda   Jac. Pray, Sir, where did you leave this hat?
should betray me!                              Ran. That hat! that hat-'tis my hat-I
Ran. Clarinda! she must be a woman. Well, dropped it in the next chamber as I was looking
what of her?                       [Aside. for yours.
Jac. My guardian else would never have sus-   Jac. How mean and despicable do you look
pected my disguise.                         now!
Ran. Disgiise! Ha, it must be so! What   Ran. So, so! 1 am in a pretty pickle! [Aside.
eyes she has! what a dull rogue was I not to sus-   Jac. You know by this, that I am acquainted
pect this sooner!                   [Aside. with every thing that has passed within; and how
Jac. Ha, I had forgot; the ladder is at the ill it agrees with what you have professed to me.
window still, and I will boldly venture by myself. Let me advise you, Sir, to be gone immediately:
[Rising briskly, she sees RANGER.] Ha! a man, through that window you may easily get into the
and well dressed! Ha, Mrs. Strictland, are you street. One scream of mine, the least noise at
then at last dishonest?                    that door, will wake the house.
Ran. By all my wishes, she is a charming wo-   Ran. Say you so  [Aside.
man! lucky rascal!                 [Aside.   Jac. Believe me, Sir, an injured husband is not
Jac. But I will, if possible, conceal her shame, so easily appeased; and a suspected wife, that is
and stand the brunt of his impertinence.    jealous of her honourRan. What shall I say to her   N-o matter;    Ran. Is the devil, and so let's have no more of
any thing soft will do the business.  [Aside. her. Look ye, Madam, [Getting between her
Jac. Who are you'l                        and the door.] I have but one argument left, and
Ran. A man, young gentleman.              that is a strong one. Look on me well. I am as
Jac. And what would you have?             handsome, a strong, well-made fellow as any
Ran. A woman.                             about town; and since we are alone, as I take it,
Jac. You are very free, Sir. Here are none we have no occasion to be more private.
for you.                                                        [Going to lay hold of her.
Ran. Ay, but there is one, and a fair one too;   Jac. I have a reputation, Sir, and will mainthe most charming creature nature ever set her tain it.
hand to; and you are the dear little pilot that   Ran. You have a bewitching pair of eyes.
must direct me to her heart.                  Jac. Consider my virtue.      [Struggling.
Jac. What mean you, Sir  It is an office I   Ran. Consider your beauty and my desires.
am not accustomed to.                         Jac. If I were a man, you dared not use me
Ran. You wont have far to go, however. I thus.
never make my errands tedious. It is to your own    Ran. I should not have the same temptation.
heart, dear Madam, I would have you whisper in   Jac. Hear me, Sir, I will be heard. [Breaks
my behalf. Nay, never start. Think you such from him.]'There is a man who will make you
beauty could ever be concealed from eyes so well repent this usage of me. Oh, Bellamy! where
acquainted with its charms?                axt thou now?
Jac. What will become of me? If I cry out,   Ran. Bellamy!
Mrs. Strictland is undone. This is my last re-   Jac. Were he here, you durst not thus affront
s'jrt.                              [Aside. me.
Ran. Pardon, dear lady, the boldness of this   Ran. His mistress, on my soul! [Aside.]-You
visit, which your guardian's care has forced me can love, Madam; you can love, I find. Her tears
to. but I long have loved you, long doted on that affect me strangely.            ( [Aside.
beauteous face, and followed you from place to   Jac. I am not ashamed to own my passion for
olace, though perhaps unknown and unregarded. a man of virtue and honour. I love and glory in it.




SCENE:.]             THE SUSPICIOUS HUSBAND.                                    5011
Ran. Oh, brave! and you can write letters,   Bel. By too great confidence. When I got her
you can. "I will not trust myself home with you to my chair, the chairmen were not to be found.
this evening, because I know it is inconvenient." And, safe as I thought in our disguise, I actually
Jac. Ha!                                 put her into the chair, when Mr. Strictland and
Ran. " Therefore I beg you would procure me his servants were in sight: which I had no sooner
a lodging;'tis no matter how far off my guar- done, than they surrounded us, overpowered me,
dian's. Yours, Jacintha."                  and carried her away.
Jac. The very words of my letter! I am    Frank. Unfortunate indeed! Could you not
amazed! [Aside.] Do you know Mr. Bellamy?  make a second attempt?
Ran. There is not a man on earth I have so   Bel. I had designed it; but when I came to the
great a value for: and he must have some value door, I found the ladder removed; and hearing
for me too, or he would never have shown me no noise, seeing no lights, nor being able to make
your pretty epistle; think of that, fair lady. The any body answer, I concluded all attempts as imladder is at the window; and so, Madam, I hope practicable as I now find them.-Ha! I see Ludelivering you safe into his arms, will in some cetta coming. Then they may be still in town.
measure expiate the crime I have been guilty of          Enter LUCETTA.
to you.
Jac. Good Heaven! How fortunate is this!   Lucetta, welcome! what news of Jacintha'
Ran. I believe I make myself appear more Luc. News, Sir! you fright me out of my
wicked than I really am. For, damn me, if I do senses! Why, is she not with you?
not feel more satisfaction in the thoughts of re-   Bel. What do you mean? With me! I have
storing you to my friend, than I couldhave plea- not seen her since I lost her last night.
sure in any favour your bounty could have be-   Luc. Good Heaven! then she is undone for ever.
stowed. Let any other rake lay his hand upon   Frna. Why, what's the matter?
his heart and say the same.                  Bel. Speak out-I'm all amazement.
Jac. Your generosity transports me.        Luc. She is escaped, without any of us knowing
RY. L~et4 us lose no time then; the ladders'how. Nobody missed her till morning. We all
ready' l Where was you to lodge?           thought she went away with you. But Heaven
Jac. At Mr. Meggot's.                    knows now what may have happened.
Ran. At my frien  acky's I better and better   Bel. Somebody must have accompanied her in
still.           7                         her flight.
Jac. Are you acquainted with him too7.   Luc. We know of nobody: we are all in conRan. Ay, ay; why, did I not tell you at first fusion at home. My master swears revenge on,
that I was one of your old acquaintance? I know  you. My mistress says a stranger has her.
all about you, you see; though the devil fetch me Bel. A stranger 
if ever I saw you before. Now, Madam, give me   Luc. But Mrs. Clarindayour hand.
your hand.                                   Bel. Clarinda! Who is she?
Jac. And now, Sir, have with you.          Luc. The lady, Sir, who you saw at our house
Ran. Then thou art a girl of spirit.  And last night.                 [To FRNKLY.
though I long to hug you for trusting yourself   Frank. Ha! whatofher?
with me, I will not beg a single kiss, till Bellamy   Luc. She says, she is sure one Frankly is the
himself shall give me leave. He must fight well man; she saw them together, and knows it to be
that takes you from me.          [Exeunt. true.
Frank. Damnined fortune!         [Aside.
ACT IV.                      Luc. Sure this is not Mr. Frankly.
Frank. Nothing will convince him now.
SCENE I. —The'iazza.[Aside.
Enter BELLAMY  and Fk NKLY.           Bel. [Looking at FRANKLY.] Ha!'tis true i
Bel. Pshaw! what impertinent devil put it into -I see it is true, [Aside.] Lucetta, run up to
your head to meddle with my affairs?      Buckle, and take him with you to search wherever
Frank. You know I went thither in pursuit you can. [Puts her out.] Now, Mr. Frankly, I
of another.                                have found you.-You have used me so ill, that
Bel. I know nothing you had to do there at you force me to forget you are my friend.
all.                                         Frank. What do you mean?
Frank. I thought, Mr. Bellamy, you were a   Be'. Draw.
lover.                                       Frank. Are you mad? By Heavens I am inBel. I am so; and therefore should be forgiven nocent.
this sudden warmth.                          Bel. I have heard you, and will no longer be
Frank. And therefore should forgive the fond imposed on-Defend yourself
impertinence of a lover.                     Frank. Nay, if you are so hot, I draw to de-.
Bel. Jealousy, you know, is as natural an inci- fend myself, as I would against a madman.
dent to loveFrank. As curiosity. By one piece of silly
curiosity I have gone nigh to ruin both myself   Ran. What the devil, swords at noon-day!
and you; let not then your jealousy complete our Have among you, faith! [Parts them.] What's
misfortunes. I fear I have lost a mistress as well here, Bellamy-Yes,'gad, you. are Bellamy, and
as you; then let us not quarrel. All may come you are Frankly; put up, put up, both of youright again.                               or else-I am a devilish fellow when once my
Bel. It is impossible. She is gone, removed sword is out.
for ever from my sight: she is in the country by   Bel. We shall have a timethis time.                                   Ran. [Pushing BELLAMY one way.] A tine
Frank. How ddl you lose her after we parted? for what?




502                THE- SU-S P I-C O US  H US B AND.       [ACT IV.
Frank. I shall always be as ready to defend   Frank. Pr'ythee, honest Ranger, ease me of
my innocence as now.                       the pain I am in. Was her name Clarinda?
Ran. [Pushing FRANKr,Y the other way.] In-   Bel. Speak in plain words, where Jacintha is,
nocence! ay, to be sure-at your age-a mighty where to be found. Dear boy, tell me.
innocent fellow, no doubt. But what, in the name   Ran. Ay, now it is honest Ranger; and, dear
of common sense, is it that ails you both. are you boy, tell me-and a minute ago, my throat was to
mad? The last time I saw you, you were hug- be cut-I could find in my heart not to open my
ging and kissing; and now you are cutting one lips. But here comes Jack AM/eggot, who will let
another's throats-I never knew any good come you into all the secret,though he designed to keep
of one fellow beslavering another —But I[ shall put it from you, in half the time that I can, though I
you into a better humour, I warrant you-Bella- had ever so great a mind to tell it you.
my, Frankly, listen both of you-Such fortunesuch a schemeBel. Pr'ythee, leave fooling. What, art drunk?   J. Meg. So, save ye, save ye, lads! we have
Frank. He is always so, I think.         been frightened out of our wits for you. Not hearRan. And who gave you the privilege of think- ing of Mr. Bellamy, poor Jacintha is ready to sink
ing? Drunk! no; I am not drunk. Tipsy, per- for fear of any accident.
haps, with my good fortune-merry, and in spi-  EBel. Is she at your house?
rits-though I have not fire enough to run my   J. Aeg. Why, did not you know that' We
friend through the body. Not drunk, though Jack despatched Master Ranger to you three hours
Meggot and I have boxed it about-champaign  ago.
was the word for two whole hours by Shrewsbury   Ran. Ay, plague! but I had business of my
clock.                                     own, so I could not come-Harkye, Frankly, is
Bel. Jack Meggot! Why, I left him at one, your girl maid, wife, or widow?
going to bed.                                Frank. A maid, I hope.
Ran. That may be, but I made shift to rouse   Ran. The odds are against you, Charles-but
him and his family by four this morning. Ounds, mine is married, you rogue, and her husband jeaI picked up a wench, and carried her to his house. Ious-The devil is in it, if I do not reap some reBel. Ha!                                 ward for my last night's service.
Ran. Such a variety of adventures-nay, you   Bel. He has certainly been at Mrs. Strictland
shall hear. But, before I begin, Bellamy, you herself. But, Frankly, I Aire not look on you.
shall promise me half a dozen kisses beforehand:   Frank. This one embrace cancels all thoughts
for the devil fetch me if that little jade, Jacintha, of enmity.      [Embracing him.
would give me one, though I pressed hard.    Bel. Thou generous man!-but I must haste
Bel. Who, Jacintha? press to kiss Jacintha?  to ease Jacintha of her fears.  [Exit.
Ran. Kiss her! ay, why not? is she not a wo-   Frank. And I to make up matters with Claman, and made to be kissed?                rinda.                               [Exit.
Bel. Kiss her-I shall run distracted!      Ran. And I to some kind wench or other, Jack.
Ran. How could I help it, when I had her But where I shall find her, Heaven knows. And
alone, you rogue, in her bedchamber, at midnight! so, my service to your monkey.
if I had been to be sacrificed, I should have   J. Meg. Adieu, rattlepate.    [Exeunt.
done it.
Bel. Bedchamber, at midnight! I can hold no SCENE  I.-uThe  Hal o   ME.  STRICTLXND'a
longer-Draw!
Prank. Be easy, Bellamy.    [Interposing.    Enter MRS. STRICTLAND and CLARINDA.
Bel. He has been at some of his damned tricks   Mrs. S. But why in such a hurry, my dear?
with her.                                  stay till your servants can go along with you.
Prank. Hear him out.                        Cla. Oh, no matter; they'll follow with my
Ran.'Sdeath, how could I know she was his things. It is but a little way off, and my chair
mistress? But I tell this story most miserably. I will guard me. After my staying out so late last
should have told you first,' I was in another lady's night, I am sure Mr. Strictland will think every
chamber. By the Lord, I got in at the window  minute an age, whilst I am in his house.
by a ladder of ropes.                        MHirs. S. I am as much amazed at his suspectFrank. Ha! another lady?                ing your innocence as my own; and every time I
Ran. Another: and stole in upon her whilst think of it, I blush at my present behaviour to
she was undressing; beautiful as an angel, bloom- you.
ing and young.                               C'la. No ceremony, dear child.
Frank. What, in the same house?           Mrs. S. No, Clarinda, I am too well acquainted.Bel. What is this to Jacintha l Ease me of with your good humour. But I fear, in the eye
my pain.                                   of a malicious world, it may look like a confirmaRan. Ay, ay, in the same house, on the same tion of his suspicion.
floor. The sweetest little angel-but I design to   Cla. My dear, if the world will speak ill of
have another touch with her.               me, for the little innocent gayety which I think
Frank.'Sdeath! but you shall have a touch the peculiar happiness of my temper, I know no
with me first.                             way to prevent it, and am only sorry the world is
Bel. Stay, Frankly.         [Interposing. so ill-natured: but I shall not part with my mirth,
Ran. Why, what strange madness has pos- I assure them, so long as I know it innocent. I
sessed you both, that nobody must kiss a pretty wish. my dear, this may be the greatest uneasiwench but yourselves?                      ness your husband's jealousy ever gives you.
Bel. What became of Jacintha?'Mrs. S. I hope he never again may have such
Ran. Ounds! what have you done, that you an occasion as he had last night.
must monopolize kissing?                      Cla. You are so unfashionable a wife.-Why




SUENEII.]            THE, SUSPICIOUS HUSBAND.
last night's accident would have made half the   Luc. Whom do you want, Sir?
wives in London easy for life. Has not his jea-   Frank. Clarinda, child. The young lady I
lousy discovered itself openly. And are not you was admitted to yesterday.
innocent?   There is nothing but'your foolish   Luc. Clarinda!-no such person lives here, I
temper that prevents his being absolutely in your assure you.
power.                                         Frank. Where then?
Mrs. S. Clarinda, that is too serious an affair   Luc. I don't know indeed, Sir.
to laugh at Let me advise you; take care of   Frank. Will you inquire within?
Mr. Frarkly, observe his temper well; and if he   Luc. Nobody knows in this house, Sir, you
has the least taint of jealousy, cast him off, and will find.
never trust to keeping him in your power.      Frank. What do you mean 3 She is a friend
Cla. You will hear little more of Frankly, I of Jacintha's, your lady. I will take my oath she
believe. Here is Mr. Strictland.             was here last night; and you yourself spoke of
Enter STRICTLAND and LUCETTA.         her being here this morning —Not know!
Luc. No; none of us know. Shewent away,Strict. Lucetta says you want me, Madam.   of a sudden-no one of us can imagine whither.
Cla. I trouble you, Sir, only that I might return    Frank. Why, faith, child, thou hast a tolerable
you thanks for the civilities I have received in face, and has delivered this denial very handylur family, before I took my leave.        somely; but let me tell you, your impertinence
Strict. Keep them to yourself, dear Madam. this morning had liked to have cost me my life;
As it is at my request that you leave my house, now therefore make me amends. I come from
yoiu thanks upon that occasion are not very de- your young mistress; I come from Mr. Bellamy;
sirable.                                     I come with my purse full of gold, that persuasive
Cla. Oh, Sir, you need not fear. My thanks rhetoric, to win you to let me see and speak to
were only for your civilities. They will not over- this Clarinda once again.
burden you. But I'll conform to your humour,   Luc. She is not here, Sir.
Sir, and part with as little ceremony-         Frank. Direct me to her.
Strict. As we met.                          Luc. No, I can't do that neither.
Cila. The brute! [Aside.] My dear, good bye,     Re-enter SvRICTLAND behind.
we may meet again.   [ To MRS. STRICTLAND.
Strict. If you dare trust me with your hand.  Strict. I heard a knocking at the door, and a
Cla. Lucetta, remember your instructions. Now, man's voice-Ha!                  [Aside.
Sir, have with you.                           Frank. Deliver this letter to her.
[STRICTLA~ND leads: CLARINDA out.   Strict. By all my fears, a letter!  [Aside.
Mrs. S. Are her instructions cruel or kind,   Luc. I don't know but I may be tempted to do
Lucetta?   For I suppose they relate to Mr. that.
Frankly.
Frankly.               Frank.                         Take it then-and with it this.
Luc. Have you a mind to try if I-can keep a             [Kisses her and gives her money.
secret as well as yourself. Madam3 But I will   Strict. Um! there are two bribes in a breath 
show you I am fit to be trusted by keeping this, What a adeshe is!                [Aside.
Luc. Ay, this gentleman understands reason.
though it signifies nothing.
Airs. S. This answer is not so civil, I think.                                  [Aside.
Luc. I beg pardon, Madam, I meant it not to
offend.                                     tress while you are serving me.
Airs. S. Pray let us have no more such  I    Strict. Her mistress!-Damned sex! and
neither desire nor want your assistance.    damned wife, thou art an epitome of that sex!
[Aside.
Re-enter STRICTLANDe.              Frank. And if you can procure me an answer
Strict. She is gone; I feel myself somewhat your fee shall be enlarged.         [Exit.
easier already. Since I have begun the day with   Luc. The next step is to get her to read this
gallantry, Madam, shall 1 conduct you up 3  letter.
AMrs. S. There is something, Sir, which gives   Strict. [Snatches it.] No noise-but stand siyou secret uneasiness. I wish-              lent there whilst I read this. [Breaks it open,
Strict. Perhaps so, Madam; and perhaps it drops the case; reads.
may soon be no secret at all.   [Leads her out.   Madam —The gayety of a heart, happy as
Luc. Would I were once well settled with my mine was yesterday, may, I hope, easily excuse
young lady; for at present this is but an odd sort the unseasonable visit I made your house last
of a queer family. Last night's affair puzzles nightme. A hat there was that belonged to none of
us, that hs ceretain  Madas  was in a fright, that  Death and the devil! confusion! I shall run disus,is  a s certain; a nd I b rou ght all o. Jaintha es- tracted. It is too much!-There was a man then
is as certain; and I broUght all off. Jacintha es- to whom the hat belonged; andI was gulled,
caped, no one of us knows how. The good man's to whom the  hat belonged; and I was gulled
Jealousy was yesterday groundless; yet, to-day,   abuseda, oman!-ut imposed  on   b    chit, a  ch
in my mind, he is very much in the right. Mighty Oh, w oman!-But [ will be calm, search
odd, all this!-Somebody knocks. If this should it to the bottom, and have a fHll revenge.
be Clarinda's spark, I have an odd message for Luc. So, here's fine work! He'll make him~him too.     [She opens the door. self very ridiculous though.       [Aside.
Strict. [Reads.] I know my innocence will up.
Enter FRANKLY.                 pear so manifestly, that I need only appeal to the
Frank. So, my pretty handmaid, meeting with lady who accompanied you at Bath;
you gives me some hopes  May I speak with Your very humble servant, good innocent, fine,
Clarinda 3                                   Madam Clarinda.




504                 THE SUSPICIOUS HUSBAND.                                   [ACT 1V.
And I do not doubt but her good nature will I tainly slipped by whilst we were picking up the
not let you persist in injuring your obedient money. Come, take up.             [Exeunt.
humble servant,          CHARLES FRANKLY.
SCENE IV. —CLARINDA'S Lodgings.
Now who can say my jealousy lacked foundation,
or my suspicion of fine Madam's innocent gayety
was unjust? —Gayety! why ay,'twas gayety  M3Iaid. Bless me, Madam, you seem disordered;
brought him hither.-My wife may be false in what's the matter?
gayety.  What a number of things become    Cla. Some impertinent fellow  followed the
fashionable under the notion of gayety.-What, chair, and I am afraid they let him in. [A noise
you received this epistle in gayety too; and were between RANGER and LANDLADY.] I should certo deliver it to my wife, I suppose, when the gay tainly know that voice. My madcap cousin Ranfit came next upon her?-Why, you impudent ger, as I live. I am sure he does not know me.young strumpet. do you laugh at me?          If I could but hide my face now, what sport I
Luc. I would, if I dared, laugh heartily. Be should have! A mask! a mask! Run and see
pleased, Sir, only to look at that piece of paper if you can find a mask.
that lies there.                               Maid. I believe there is one above.
Strict. Ha!                                 Cla. Run, run, and fetch it: [Exit MAID.] Here
Luc. I have not touched it, Sir. It is the case he comes.
that letter came in, and the direction will inform  Enter RANGER and LANDLADY.
you whom I was to deliver it to.            How unlucky this is!    [ Turningfrom them.
Strict. This is directed to Clarinda?       Land. What's your business here, unmanLuc. Oh, is it so? Now read it over again, nerly Sir?
and all your foolish doubts will vanish.      Ran. Well, let's see these lodgings that are to
Strict. I have no doubts at all. I am satisfied be let.'Gad, a very pretty neat tenement-But
that you, Jacintha, Clarinda, my wife, all are-  harkye, is it real and natural, all that, or only
LStc. Lud! lud! you will make a body mad.   patched up and new painted this summer season,
Strict. Hold your impertinent tongue.     against the town fills?
Luc. You'll find the thing to be just as I say,   Land. What does the saucy fellow mean with
Sir.                                        his double tenders here? Get you downStrict. Be gone. [Exit LUCETTA.] They must
be poor at the work, indeed, if they did not lend    Re-enter MAID, with a mask.
one another their names.'Tis plain,'tis evident,   Maid. Here is a very dirty one.
and I am miserable. But for my wife, she shall                       [Aside to CLARINDA.
not stay one night longerin my house. Separation,   Cla. No matter. [Exit MAID.] NOW we shall
shame, contempt, shall be her portion. I am de- see a little what he would be at.  [Aside.
termined in the thing; and when once it is over,   Land. This is an honest house. For all your
I may perhaps be easy.               [Exit. laced waistcoat, I'll have you thrown down neck
and heels.
SCENE III. —The Street..            Ran. Pho! not in such a hurry, good old laCrLARINDA brought in a chair, followaed by    dy- A mask! nay, with all my heart, it saves
RAiNGER,                   a world of blushing. Have you ne'er a one for
me. I am apt to be ashamed myself on these ocRan. Harkye, chairman! damn your confound- casions.
ed trot. Go slower.                           Land. Get you down, I sayCla. Here, stop.                            Ran. Not if I guess right, old lady. Madam:
Ran. By Heavens! the monsters hear reason [To CLARINDA, who makes sign to the LANDand obey.                                   L,ADY to retire.] look ye there now! that a woman
Cla. [Letting down the window.] What trou- should live to your age, and know so little of the
blesome fellow was that?                   matter. Be gone. [Exit LANDLADY.] By her
1 Chair. Some rake, I warrant, that cannot forwardness this should be a whore of quality.
carry himself home, and wants us to do it for My boy, Ranger, thou art in luck to-day. She
him.                                        wont speak, I find-then I will. [Aside.] Delicate
Cla. There-And pray do you take care I be lodgings truly, Madam; and very neatly furnot troubled with him.             [Goes in. nished-A  very convenient room  this, I must
Ran. That's as much as to say now, pray fol- needs own, to entertain a mixed company. But,
low me. Madam, you are a charming woman, my dear charming creature, does not that door
and I will do it-                           open to a more commodious apartment for the
1 Chair. Stand off, Sir.                  happiness of a private friend or so? The prettiest
Ran. Pr'ythee, honest fellow-what-what brass lock-Fast, um; that wont do.'Sdeath,
writing is that?   [Endeavouring to get in. you are a beautifill woman, I amn sure you are.
2 Chair. You come not here.               Pr'ythee let me see your face. It is your interest,
Ran. Lodgings to be let: a pretty convenient child-the longer you delay, the more I shall exinscription, and the sign of a good modest family. pect. Therefore, [Takes her hand.] my dear,
There may be lodgings for gentlemen as well as soft, kind, new acquaintance, thus let me take
ladies. Harkye, rogues, I'll lay you all the silver your hand, and whilst you gently, with the other,
I have in my pocket, there it is, I get in there in let day-light in upon me, let me softly hold you to
spite of your teeth, ye pimps. [ Tfrows down the me, that with my longing lips I may receive the
money and goes in.                          warmest, best impression. [She unmasks.]-ClaCla. [WMthin.] Chair, chair, chair!       rinda!
I Chair. Who calls chair-W'hat, have you    Cla Ha, ha! your servant, cousin Ranger.let the gentleman in?                      Ha, ha, ha!
2 Chair. I'll tell you what, partner, he cer-   Ran. Oh, your humble servant, Madam. You




SCENE IV.]           THE SUSPICIOUS HUSBAND.                                       505
had like to have been beholden to your mask,   Ran. Ay,'fore'gad, did she: which I imagined
cousin. —I must brazen it out.       [Aside. a good sign at midnight, ay, cousin! So I e'en
Cia. Ha, ha, ha! You were not so happy in invented a long story of a passion I had for her,
your disguise, Sir. The pretty stagger in your though I had never seen her before —you know
gait, that happy disposition of your wig, the gen- my old way-and said so many, such tender
teel negligence of your whole person, and those thingspretty flowers of modish gallantry, made it im-   Cla. As you said to me just now.
possible to mistake you, my sweet coz. Ha, ha!   Ran. Pho! quite in another style, I assure you.
Ran. Oh, I knew you too; but I fancied you It was midnight, and I was in a right cue.
had taken a particular liking to my person, and    Cla. Well, and what did she answer to all
had a mind to sink the relation under that little these protestations.
piece of black velvet; and'egad, you never find   Ran. Why, instead of running into my arms
me behind-hand in a frolic. But since it is other- at once, as I expectedwise, my merry, good-humoured cousin, I am as   Cla. To be sure.
heartily glad to see you in town, as I should be to   Ran.'Gad, like a free-hearted, honest girl, she
meet any of my old bottle acquaintance.      frankly told me she liked another better than she
Cla. And on my side I am as happy in meet- liked me; that I had something in my face that
ing your worship, as I should be in a rencounter showed I was a gentleman, and she would e'en
with e'er a petticoat in Christendom.        trust herself with me, if I would give her my
Ran. And if you have any occasion for a dang- word I would convey her to her spark.
ling gallant to Vauxhall, Ranelagh, or even the   Cla. Oh, brave! and how did you bear this?
poor neglected Park, you are so unlike the rest   Ran. Why curse me, if I am ever angry with
of your virtuous sisters of the petticoat, that I will a woman for not having a passion for me.
venture myself with you.                       Cla. No 
Cla. Take care what you promise; for who   Ran. Never. I only hate your sex's vain preknows but this face, you were pleased to say so tence of having no passion at all.'Gad, I loved
many pretty things of before you saw it, may raise the good-natured girl for it, took her at her word,
go many rivals among your kept mistresses and stole her out of the window, and this morning made
reps of quality-                             a very honest fellow happy in the possession of her.
Ran. Hold, hold! a truce with your satire,   Cla. And her name is Jacintha?
sweet coz; or, if scandal must be the topic of   Ran. Ha!
every virtuous woman's conversation, call for your   Cla. Your amours are no secrets, Sir. You
tea-water, and let it be in its proper element. see you might as well have told me all the whole
Come, your tea, your tea.                    of last hight's adventure; for you find I know.
Cia. With all my heart. Who's there?        Ran. All! Why, what do you know?
Re-enter MAID.                  Cla. Nay, nothing. I only know that a gentleman's hat cannot be dropped in a lady's chamGet tea-_[Exit MAID.] upon condition that you berstay till it comes.                            Ran. The devil!.Ran. That is according as you behave, Ma-   Cla. But a husband is such an odd, impertidam.                                         nent, awkward creature, that he will be stumbCla. Oh, Sir, I am very sensible of the fa- ling over it.
your.                                          Ran. Here hath been fine work. [Aside.] But
Ran. Nay, you may, I assure you; for there is how, in the name of wonder, should you know
but one woman of virtue besides yourself I would all this?
stay with ten minutes (and I have not known    Cia. By being in the same house.
her above these twelve hours;) the insipidity, or   Ran. In the same house?
the rancour of their discourse, is insufferable-  Cea. Ay, in the same house, a witness of the'Sdeath! I had rather take the air with my grand- confusion you have made.
mother.                                        Ran. Frankly's Clarinda, by all that's fortuCila. Ha, ha, ha! the ladies are highly obliged nate! It must be so!         [Aside.
to you, I vow.                                 Cla. And let me tell you, Sir, that even the
Ran. I tell you what; the lady I speak of dull, low-spirited diversions you ridicule in us
was obliged to me, and the generous girl is ready tame creatures, are preferable to the romantic exto own it.                                   ploits that only wine can raise you to.
C/a. And pray when was it you did virtue this   Ran. Yes, cousin.-But I'll be even with you.
considerable service!                                                            [Aside.
Ran. But this last night, the devil fetch me!   Cla. If you reflect, cousin, you will find a great
A romantic whim of mine conveyed me into her deal of wit in shocking a lady's modesty, disturbchamber, where I found her, young and beauti- ing her quiet, tainting her reputation, and ruining
ful, alone, at midnight, dressed like a soft Ado- the peace of a whole family!
nis; her lovely hair all loose about her shoul-   Ran. To be sure.
ders.                                        Cla. These are the high-mettled pleasures of
Cla. In boy's clothes! this is worth attend- you men of spirit, that the insiprdity of the vlring to.                                     tuous can never arrive at. And can you in reRan.'Gad, I no more suspected her being ality think your Burgundy and your Bacchus
a woman, than I did your being my cater-cousin. your Venus and your loves, an excuse for ali
Cla. How did you discover it at last?     this? Fie, cousin, fie.
Ran VVhy, faith, she very modestly dropped   Ran. No, cousin.
me a hint of it herself.                       Cla. What, dumb?  I am glad you nave bhoCia. Herself! If this should be Jacintha!  desty enough left not to go about to excuse f'our[Aside. self.
VOL, 1....3 S    43




506                  THE SUSPICIOUS HUSBAND.                                   f[ACT v.
Ran. It is as you say; when we are sober,-  Mrs. S. I would not willingly give you a moand reflect but ever so little on the follies we cor- ment's uneasiness; I but desire a fair and equal
mit, we are ashamed and sorry; and yet the very hearing; and if I satisfy you not in every point.
next minute we run again into the same absurd- then abandon me, discard me to the world, and
ities.                                       its malicious tongues.
Cla. What! moralizing, cousin? ha, ha, ha.  Strict. What was it you said.  Damn this
Ran. What you know is not half, not a hun- pen.
dredth part of the mischief of my last night's fro-'  lrs. S. I say, Mr. Stxictland, I would onlylic; and yet the very next petticoat I saw this   Strict. You would only-you would onl remorning, I must follow it, and be damned to me; peat what you have been saying this hour, I am
though, for aught I know, poor Frankly's life innocent; and when I showed you the letter I
may depend upon it.                          had taken from your maid, what was then your
Cla. Whose life, Sir?                    poor evasion, but that it was to Clarinda, and you
Ran. And here do I stand prating to you now. were innocent.
Cla. Pray, good cousin, explain yourself.   Mrs. S. Heaven knows, I am innocent.
Ran. Good cousin! she has it. [Aside.] Why,   Strict. But I know your Clarinda, your woman
whilst I was making off with the wench, Bellamy of honour, is your blind, your cover, yourand he were quarrelling about her; and though But why do I distract myself about a woman 1
Jacintha and I made all the haste we could, we have no longer any concerns with?  Here, Mat
did not get to them before-                  dam, is your fate-a letter to your brother in the
Cla. Before what?  I'm frightened out of my country.
wits.                                          Mrs. S. SirRan. Not that Frankly cared three-halfpence    Strict. I have told him what a sister he is to
for the girl.                               receive, and how to bid her welcome.
Cla. But there was no mischief done, I hope? i  Mrs. S. Then my ruin is complete. My broRan. Pho! a slight scratch; nothing at all, ther!
as the surgeon said: though he was but a queer-   Strict. I must vindicate my own honour, else
looking son of a bitch of a surgeon neither.  what will the world say?
Cla. Good God! why, he should have the best  MArs. S. That brother was my only hope, my
that can be found in London.                 only ground of patience. In his retirement I
Ran. Ay, indeed, so he should; that was what hoped my name might have been safe, and slept,
I was going for when I saw you. [Sits down.] till by some happy means you might at length
They are all at Jack Meggot's, hard by, and you have known me innocent, and pitied me.
will keep me here.                             Strict. Retirement! pretty soul! no, no, that
Cla. I keep you here! For Heaven's sake, face was never made for retirement; it is another
begone!                                      sort of retiring you are fittest for. Ha! hark!
Ran. Your tea is a damned while a coming.   What's that'? [A knocking at the door.] Two
Cla. You shall have no tea now, I assure you. gentle taps-and why but two! was that. the sigRan. Nay, one dish!                        nal, Madam. Stir not, on your life!
Cla. No, positively you shall not stay.      Mrs. S. Give me resolution, Heaven, to bear
Ran. Your commands are absolute, Madam.   this usage, and keep it secret from the world.
[Going.                                      [Aside.
Cla. Then Frankly is true, and I only am to   Strict. I will have no signs, no items, no hem
blame.                                      to tell him I am  here. [A knock.] Ha, another
Ran. [Returns.] But I beg ten thousand par- tap! The gentleman is in haste, I find.
dons, cousin, that I should forget-                                      [Opens the door.
Cia. Forget what?                                       Enter TESTER.
Ran. Forget to salute you.
Cla. Pshaw! how can you trifle at such a time Tester!  Why di you not come in, rascal?
a~~~~s~~ this?~ 2[Beat.s him.] All vexations meet to cross me.
Ran. A trifle  wrong not your beautTy.       Tes. Lard, Sir! what do you strike me for?
Cia. Lord, how teasing you are! There.   my mistress ordered me never to come in where
Ran.,Kisses her.] Poor thing, how uneasy she was, without first knocking at the door.
Ran. [Kisses her.] Poor thing, how uneasy   Strict. Oh, cunning devil! Tester is too honest
she is! [Aside.] Nay, no ceremony; you shallester is to honest
not stir a step with me.             [Eit.   Mrs Sd
Cla. I do not intend it. This is downright    rs. S. Unhappy man! will nothing undeend it. This is downright ceive him 
provoking.       ACT V.              [Exit.   Tes. Sir, here is a letter.
~~~ACT V.  ~          Strict. To my wife'?
SCENE I.-A Room in MR. STRICTLAND'S    Tes. No, Sir, to you. The servant waits beHouse.                   low.
Ma. and MRs. STRICTLAND; she weeping, he    Strict. Art sure it is a servant?
writing.                     Tes. Sir! it is Mr. Buckle, Sir.  [Stares.
/rs. S. Heigh ho!                            Strict. I am mad; I know not what to say, or
Strict. What can possibly be the occasion of do, or think. But let's readthat sigh, Madaml you have yourself agreed to a                        [Reads to himself.
maintenance, and a maintenance no duchess need    Sir- We cannot bear to reflect that AIrs. Strictbe ashamed of.                              land may possibly be ruined in your esteem, and
Mrs. S. But the extremities of provocation that in the voice of the world, only by the confusion
drove me to that agreement-                  which our affairs have made in your family,
Strict. Were the -effect of your own follies. without offering all within our power to clear the
Why do you disturb me  [ Writes. misunderstanding between you. If you will give




AcNE II.j            THE,S;USPICIOUSS HUSBAN:D.                                   507
yourself the trouble but to step to Mr. Mleggot's,   J. Meg. Thou art the most unaccountable creawhere all parties will be, we doubt not but we can ture in life.
entirely satisfy your most flagrant suspicions, to   Ran. But the most lucky one, Jack, if 1 sucthe honour of Mrs. Strictland, and the quiet of ceed for Frankly as I have for Bellamy, and:my
your lives.    JACINTHA. JOHIN BELLAMY.   heart whispers me I shall. Come in, most noble
Hey! here is the whole gang witnessing for one Mr. Buckle: and what have you to propose.
another. They think I am an ass, and will be                Enter BUCKLE.
led -by the nose to believe:every thing. [Aside.]   Buck. A lady, Madam, in a chair, says her
Call me a chair. [Exit TESTER.] Yes, I will go name is Clarinda.
to this rendezvous of enemies-I will-and find   Jac. Desire her to walk up.
out all her plots, her artifices, and contrivances:   Bel. How could you let her wait'?  Exit
it will clear my- conduct to her brother and all her BUCKLE.]  You must excuse him, Madam
friends.                    [Aside, and exit. Buckle is a true bachelor's servant, and knows no
Mrs. S. Gone so abruptly! What can that manners.
letter be about? no matter; there is no way left  Jac. Away, away Mr. Frankly, and stay till I
to make us easy but by my disgrace, and I must call you. A rap with my fan shall be the signal.
learn to suffer; time and innocence will teach me [Exit FRANKLY.] We make very free with your
to bear it patiently.                        house, Mr. Meggot.
Enter LUCETTA.:J. MIeg. Oh, you could not oblige me more.
Enter CLARINDA.
Luc. Mrs. Bellamy, Madam (for my young    Cla. Dear Mrs. Bellamy, pity my confusion, I
lady is married) begs you would follow Mr.
lady: is married) begs you would. follow  Mr  am to wish you joy and ask your pardon all in a
Strictland to Mr. Meggot's.:She makes no doubt am  to wIsh you Joy and    pardon all in a
breath. I know not what to say; I am quite
but she shall be able to make you and my master ashamed of my last night's behaviour.
easy.  S.Bthw  aese oko  aytig Jac. Come, come Clarinda, it is all well; all is
NMrs. S. But how came she to know any thing      d forgot. Mr. Bellamy-        [alute.
oLufc. I have been with them, Madam; Icould   Cla. I wish you joy, Sir, with all my heart;:: Lot.    have been with them, Ma l ady so ill treated.  and should have been very sorry if any folly of
not bear to see so good a lady so ill treated.  mine had prevented it.
Mrs. S. I am indeed, Lucetta, ill treated; but    el. Madam, I am obliprevent ed to you.
I hope this day will be n the last of it.      Cla. I see nothing of Mrr. Frankly! my mind
Luc.: Madam Clarinda and Mr. Frankly will misgives me.                          [Aside.
be there, and the young gentleman, Madam, who   Ran  And so, you came hither purely out of
was with you in this room last night. friendship, good nature, and humility.
-Mrs. S. Ha! if he is there, there may be hopes;  Cia. Purely.
and it is worth the trying.                   Ran. To confess your offences, to beg pardon,
Luc.: Dear lady, let me call a chair.      and to make reparation.
Mrs. S.!1'11 go with you, I cannot be more   d to make reparation
Mrs.S.'llgowith you, I cannot be m Cla. Purely. Is this any thing so extraordiwretched than I am.                [Exeunt. nary?
SCENE  A-Room in JAC  MEGOT'  J. Meg. The most so of any thing in life, I
SCENE 11.-A Room in JAcK MEGGOT'S
House.                      Ran. A very whimsical business for so fine a
Enter FRANKLY, RANGER, BELLAMY, JACINTHA, laody, and an errand you seldom went on before, I
and JACK MEGGOT.                fancy, my dear cousin.
Frank. Oh, Ranger, this is news indeed! your   Jac. Never, I  dare swear, if I may judge by
cousin,~ and a lady of such fortune 1       the awkward concern she shows in delivering it.
Ran. I have done the business for you; I tell   Cia. Concern! Lard, well I protest you are all
you she's your own. She loves you.      exceeding pretty company! Being settled for
Frank. You make my heart dance with joy.
~Frank. Y~ou make my heart dance with joy. -life, Jacintha, gives an ease to the mind that
Words are too faint to tell the joy I feel.   brightens conversation strangely.
Ran. I have put that heart of hers into such a   Jac. I am sorry, with all my heart, you are
not in the, same condition; for as you are, my
flutter, that I'll lay a hundred guineas, with the
assistance which this lady has promised me, I fix dear, you are horridly chagrinS
Ran. But with a little of our help, Madam,
Jac. Ay, ay, Mr. Frankly,  e have a design the lady may recover, and be very good comJae. Ay, ay, Mr. Frankly, we have a design
upon her which cannot fail. But you must obey pany.
orders.                              toe       Cla. Hum! what doos he mean, Mr. BelFrank. Most willingly; but remember, dear lamy?
lady, I have more than life at stake.          Del. Ask him, Madam.
Jac. Away then into the next room; for she: Cla. Indeed I shall not give myself the trouble.
is this instant coming hither.
Jac.:Then you know what he means.
Frank. Hither! you surprise me more and
~~~~~~~more.  ~Cla.; Something impertinent, I suppose, not
worth explaining.
Jac. Here is a message from her, by which she worth explaining.
desires leave to wait on me this afternoon.    Jac. It is something you wont let him explain,
I find.
Ran. Only for the chance of seeing you here,
~~~I assure ye.  -            -Re-enter BUCKLE, and whispers JACK MEGGOT.
Frank. Let me hug thee, though I know not   J. IMeg. Very well. Desire him to walk into
how to believe it.                          the parlour. Madam, the gentleman is below.
Ran. Pshaw! pr'ythee don't stifle me! It is a   Jac. Then every one to your posts. You know
busy day, a very busy day.                   your cues.




508                  THE SUSPICIOUS HUSBAND.                                   [ACT V.
Ran. I warrant ye.     [Exeunt Gentlemen.   Frank. Not in my opinion, I assure you, MaCla. All gone! I am glad of it, for I want to dam; and I am now going to put it to the trial.
speak to you.                                  Cla. What is he going to say now!  [Aside.
Jac. And I, my dear Clarinda, have something    Frank. What is it that ails me, that I cannot
which I do not know how to tell you: but it must speak? Pshaw! he here!
be known sooner or later.                                   Enter RANGER.
Cla. W~hat's the matter?
Joe. Potor Mr. Frankly- -                  Interrupted! impertinent!            [Aside.
Cla. You fright me out of my senses!         Ran. There is no sight so ridiculous as a pair
Jac. H-las no wounds but what you can cure. of your true lovers. Here are you two now, bowHa, ha, ha! iing and cringing, and keeping a passion secret
HCa. Pshaw! I am angry.                  from one another, that is no secret to all the house
Jac. Pshaw! You are pleased; and will be beside; and if you don't make the matter up immore so, when I tell you this man, whom fortune mediately, it will be all over the town within
these two hours.
has thrown in your way, is in rank and temper        What do ou m
the man in the world who suits you best for a   Cla. What do you mean
husband.                                       Frank. RangerCla. Husband! I say, husband indeed! where   Ran. Do you be quiet, can't ye?  [Apart to
will this end?                      [Aside. FRANKLY.] But it is over, I suppose, cousin, and
Jac. His very soul is yours, and he only waits you have given him your consent?
an opportunity of telling you so. He is in the wia. Sir, the liberties you are please- to take
next room. Shall I call him in               with me-'
Cia. My dear girl, hold!                   Ran. Oh! in your airs still, are you? Why
Jac. How foolish is this coyness now, Clarinda I then, Mr. Frankly, there is a certain letter of
If the men were here indeed, something might be yours, Sir, to this ladysaid-And so, Mr. Frankly                       Cla. A letter to me? 
Cla. How can you be so teasing?            Ran. Ay! to you, Madam.
Frank. Ha! what of that letter?1
Jac. Nay, I am in downright earnest; and to    ran. Ha! what of that letter 
show how particular I have been in my inquiries,   Ran  It is only fallen into r. Strictland's
though I know you have a spirit above regarding hanstat is all; and he has read it.
the modish, paltry way of a Smithfield bargain  an   Read it!
- His fortune-                             Ran. Ay, read it to all his family at home, and
Cia. I don't care what his fortune is.    to all the company below; and if some stop be
Jac. Don't you so; then you are further gone inot put to it, it will be read in all the coffee-houses
than I thought you were.                       Frank
than I thought you were.                      Frank. A stop! this sword-shall put a stop to
Cla. No, pshaw! Pr'ythee, I don't mean so           A stop! this sword shall put a stop to
neither.                                    it, or I will perish in the attempt.
Jach. RI don't care what you mean but you wont   Ran. But will that sword put a stop to the talk
Jac. I don't care what you mean; but you wont of the town? —Only make it talk the faster, take
like him the worse, I hope, for having a fortune
superior to your own. Now shall I call him in  my word for it.
Cia. This is all a trick.
Cla. Pho, dear girl- Some  other time.
Cia. Pho, dear girl-Some other time.        Ran. A trick! is it so? you shall soon see
Jac. [Raps with her fan.] That's the signal,   Ran. Atrick    it so  you shall soon see
and here he is. You shall not stir: I positively  my fine cousi.                  [Eit.
will leave y    ou together.          [ Exit.   Frank. It is but too true, I fear. There is such
a.  tremblav e all ovgether.              a letter, which I gave Lucetta. Can you forgive
me? Was I much to blame, when I could neither
Enter FRANKLY.                see nor hear of you 
Frank. Pardon this freedom, Madam; but 1
hope our having so luckily met with a common Frankly, a thousand more uneasinesses than you
friend in Mrs. Bellamy                      need about me.
Cfriend in Mrs. Bellamy-                      rank. If this uneasiness but convinces you
Frank. Makes any further apology for my be- how much T love you-Interrupted again 
haviour last night absolutely unnecessary.     Cla. This is downright malice.    [Aside.
Cla. So far, Mr. Frankly, that I think the apo-    Re-enter RANGER, followed by JACINTHA,
logy should be rather on my side, for the imperti-  STRICTI.AND, BELLAMY, and JACK MEGGO'r.
nent bustle I made about her.                 Ran. Enter, enter, gentlemen and lady. Now
Frank. This behaviour gives me hopes, Ma- you shall see whether this is a trick or no.
dam: pardon the construction-but from the little   Cla. Mr. Strictland here! What is all this?
bustle you made about the lady, may I not hope   Jac. Do not be uneasy, my dear; we will exyou was not quite indifferent about the gentleman? plain it to ou.
Cla. Have a care of being too sanguine in   Frank. I cannot bear this trifling, Ranger,
your hopes: might not a love of power, or the when my heart is on the rack.
satisfaction of showing that power, or the dear   Ran. Come this way, then, and learn.
pleasure of abusing that power; might not these     [JACINTHA, CLARINDA, FRANKLY, ond
have been foundation enough for more than what         RANGER, retire. STRICTLAND, BEL-; did?                                                 LAMY, and MEGGOT advance.
F'rank. Charming woman! with most of your   Strict. Why, I know not well what to say.
sex, I grant, they might, but not with you. What- This has a face. This lette- may as well agree
ever power your beauty gives, your good nature with Clarinda as with my wife, as you have told
will allow you no other use of it than to oblige.  the story; and Lucetta explained it so; but she,
Cla. This is the height of compliment, Mr. for a sixpenny piece, would have construed it the
Franklv.                                     other way.




SCENE II.]            THE SUSPICIOUS HUSBAND.:6509
J. Meg. But, Sir, if we produce this Mr. Frank-   CGa. Ravish it you cannot; for it is with all my
ly to you, and he owns himself the author-of this heart I give it you.
letter-                                        Strict. I am satisfied.
Bel. And if Clarinda likewise be brought   Cla. And so am I, now it is once over.
~ before your face to encourage his addresses, there   Ran. And so am I, my dainty cousin; and I
can be no further room for doubt.            wish you joy of a man your whole sex would go
Strict. No. Let that appear, and I shall, I to cuffs for, if they knew him but half so well as
think I shall, be satisfied-But yet it cannot be-  I do-Ha! she here; this is more than I barBel. Why not? Hear me, Sir.                gained for.                          [Aside.
[They talk; JACIN. CLARIN. FRANTKLY, Enter JACINTHA, leading in MRS. STRICTLAND.
and RAN. advance.
Jac. In short, Clarinda, unless the affair is   Strict. [Embracing MRS. STRICTLAND.] Mamade up directly, a separation, with all the oblo- dam, reproach me not with my folly, and you shall
quy on her side, must be the consequence.    never hear of it again.
Cla. Poor Mrs. Strictland! I pity her: but for   _frs. S. Reproach you! No! if ever you hear
him, he deserves all he feels, were it ten times the least reflection pass my lips, forsake me in
what it is.                                 that instant; or, what would yet be worse, susJac. It is for her sake only, that we beg of you pect again.
both to bear his impertinence.                 Strict. It is enough. I am ashamed to talk to
C'la. With all my heart. You will do what you thee. This letter, which I wrote to your brother
please with me.                              thus I tear in pieces, and with it part for ever
Frank. Generous creature!                 with my jealousy.
Strict. Ha! here she is, and with the very man   Mlirs. S. This is a joy, indeed! as great as unI saw deliver the letter to Lucetta. I do begin to expected. Yet there is one thing wanting to make
fear I have made myself a fool. Now for. the it lasting.
proof. [Aside.] Here is a letter, Sir, which has   Ran. What the devil is coming now. [Aside.
given me great disturbance, and these gentlemen    Mrits. S. Be assured, every other suspicion of
assure me it was wrote by you.              me was as unjust as your last; though perhaps you
Frank. That letter, Sir, upon my honour, I had more foundation for your fears.
left this morning with Lucetta, for this lady.  Ran. She wont tell, sure, for her own sake.
Strict. For that lady? and Frankly, the name                                   [Aside.
at the bottom, is not feigned, but your real  SMrs. S. All must be cleared before my heart
name?                                      will be at ease.
Frank. Frankly is my name.                  Ran. It looks plaguy like it, though! [Aside.
Strict. I see, I feel myself ridiculous.  [Aside.   Strict. What mean you? I am all attention.
Jac. Now, Mr. Strictland, I hope            Mrs. S. There was a man, as you suspected,
J. Meg. Ay, ay; a clear case.             in my chamber, last night.
Strict. I am satisfied, and will go this instant   Strict. Ha! take care, I shall relapse.
to Mrs. Strictland.                            lIii's. S. That gentleman was heRan. Why then the devil fetch me, if this   Ran. Here is a devil for you!      [Aside.
would satisfy me.                             Mrs. S. Let him explain the rest.
Strict. What's that?                       Ran. A frolic, a mere frolic, on my life.
Ran. Nay, nothing; it is no affair of mine.  Strict. A frolic! Zounds!  [ They interpose.
Bel. What do you mean, Ranger?             Ran. Nay, don't let us quarrel the very mo.
Strict. Ay, what do you mean?  I will know  ment you declared yourself my friend. Thero
before I stir.                              was no harm done, I promise you. Nay, never
Ran. With all my heart, Sir. Cannot you see frown. After I have told my story, any satisfaothat all this may be a concerted matter between tion you are pleased to ask, I shall be ready to
them?                                       give.
Frank. Ranger, you know I can resent.       Strict. Be quick-then, and ease me of my pain.
Strict. Go on; I will defend you, let who will   Ran. Why then, as I was strolling about last
resent it.                                  night,,upon the look out, 1 must confess, chance,
Ran. Why then, Sir, I declare myself your and chance only, conveyed me to your house.
friend: and were I as. you, nothing but their im- where I espied a ladder of ropes most invitingly
mediate marriage should convince me.        fastened to the window.
Strict. Sir, you're right, and are my friend in-   Jac. Which ladder, I had fastened for my esdeed. Give me your hand.                    cape.
Ran. Nay, were I to hear her say-I, Clarinda,   Strict. Proceed.
take thee, Charles, I would not believe them till I   Ran. Up mounted I, and up I should have
saw them  a-bed together. Now resent it as you gone, if it had been in the garret; it's all one to
will.                                       Ranger. I opened one door, and then another,
Strict. Ay, Sir, as you will; but nothing less and to my great surprise the whole house was sishall convince me; and so, my fine lady, if you lent; at last, I stole into a room where this lady
are in earnest-                             was undressing.
C/a. Sure, Mr. Strictland-                  Strict.'Sdeath and the devil! you did not dare
Strict. Nay, no flouncing; you cannot escape. sureRan. Why, Frankly, has't no soul?          Ran. I don't know whether I had dared, or no,
Frank. I pity her confusion.              if I had not heard the maid say something of her
Ran. Pity her confusion!-the man's a fool- master's being jealous. Oh, damn me, thought
Here, take her hand.                         I, then the work is half done to my hands.
Frank. Thus, on my knees, then, let me ravish   Jac. Do you mind that, Mr. Strictland?
with your hand, your heart.                    Strict. [ do —I do. most feelingly.
43*




510                THE SUSPICIOUS HUSBAND.                                  [ACrT 
Ran. The maid grew saucy, and most conve-   Strict. I understand you; and, as a proof of
niently to my wishes was turned out of the room; the sincerity with which I speak, I beg it as a
and if you had not the best wife in the world-   favour, of this lady in particular, [ To CLARINDA.]
Strict. Ounds, Sir, but what right have you- and of all the company in general,;.to return to
Ran. What right, Sir. if you will be jealous:my house immediately, where every thing, Mr.
of your wife without a cause; if you will. be out Bellamy, shall be settled to your entire: satisfacat this time of night, when you might have been tion. No thanks; I have not deserved them.
so much better employed at home; we young   Ran. Why, this is honest;: continue but, in
fellows think we have a right-             this humour, and faith, Sir, you may trust me to
Strict. No joking, I beseech.you; you. know  run about your house like a. spaniel. I cannot
not what I feel.                           sufficiently admire the whimsicalness of my good
Ran. Then seriously, I was mad, or drunk; fortune, in being so instrumental:to this general
enough, call it which you will, to be very rude to. happiness. Bellamy, Frankly, I wish. you joy
this lady, for which I ask both her pardon and with all my heart, though I had ratheryou should
yours. I am an odd sort of a fellow, perhaps;, be married, than I, for all that. Never did matribut I am above telling you or any man a lie, maony appear to me with a smile upon her face
damn me, if I am not.                      till this instant.
Strict. I must, I cannot but believe you; and
for the future, Madam, you shall find a heart   Sure joys for ever wait each happy pair,
ready to love and trust you. No tears, I beg';   When: sense the man, and virtue crowns the
I cannot bear them.                                  fair,
Mrs. S. I cannot speak, and yet there is a fa-   And kind compliance proves their mutual car&e,
v)ur, Sir- --                                                               [Exeunt,




TOM rHUMB THE GREAT:
A B:UR.&L.TE.,sQUE- TRAGEDY,
IN TWO ACTS.
ALTERED, FROM FIELDING,
BY KANE O'HARA, ESQ.
REMARKS.
T'rRoeGH small in its suhject, this -" tragedy of tragedies" has engaged the attention of two dramatic writers 
its original parent, Henry Fielding, our celebrated novelist, brought it on the Haymarket stage, in the year 17.30,
when it met with.great: success. This burlesque may be considered almost the best that ever appeared. It is,
also, a proper sequel to the Duke of Buekingham's Rehearsal; as it embraces and satirises the absurdities of al.
most all the writers of tragedy from the period when that piece stops. The love-scenes, rage, marriage, battle,
and catastrophe, are such forcible imitations of the rules observed by the tragic writers of that time, that the
satire conveyed in them cannot escape the observation of any one conversant with the writers of the last centurv;* and to those who do not comprehend every turn of its humour, it will always appear agreeable.
In Mr. O'Hara's alteration of this piece of true burlesque, he has certainly, allowing for its compression, pre
served the points of the original, and presented an entertainment that maintains its credit undiminished on the
stage
DRAMATIS PERSON./E.
Characters in Fielding's Original Piece, entitled, " The Tragedy of Tragedies; or, the Life and Death of
Tom Thumb the Great;" as performed at the Haymarket, 1730.
IR NG ARTHUR, a passionate sort of King, husband to Queen Dollallolla, of whom he
stands a little in fear; father to Huncamunca, whom he is very fond of; and in love
with Glumd alca,.................................. Mr. Mullart.
rOM THUMB THE GREAT, a little hero with a great, soul, something violent in his
temper, which is a little abated by his love for Huncamunca................... Young Verhuyck.
GHOST OF GAFFER THUMB, a whimsical sort of Ghost,....... Mr. Lacy.
LORD GRIZZLE, extremely zealous for the liberty of the subject, very choleric in his
temper, and in love with Huncamunca......................................Mr. Jones.
MERI.IN, a Conjurer, and in some sort father to Tom: Thumb,............. Mr. Hallam.
NOODLE,                                                                     Mr. Reynolds.
DOOODLE' Courtiers in place, and consequently of that party that is uppermost,..  Mr RWyna s
DOODLE,                                                                     Mr. Wathan.
FOODLE, a Courtier that is out of place, and consequently of that party that is undermost,............                                                        Mr. Ayres.
BFOLLOWER    f the party of the plaintiff                                   Mr.......... Peterson.
FOLLO' W ER, te      the      plach tirch                                   Mr. Hicks.
PARSON, of the side of the church,...............Mr. Watson
QUEEN DOLLALLOLLA, wife to King Arthur, and mother to Huncamunca; a woman
entirely faultless, saving that she is a little given, to drink; a little too much a
virago towards her husband, and in love with Tom Thumb,.Mrs. Mullart.
The PRINCESS HUNCAMUNCA, daughter to their Majesties King Arthur and Queen
Dollallolla, of a very sweet, gentle, and amorous disposition, equally in love with
Lord Grizzle and Tom Thumb, and desirous to be married to them both,.........   Mrs. Jones.
G(LUMDALCA, Of the Giants, a captive Queen, beloved by the King, but in love with
Tom Thumb..Mrs............................................... Dove.
CLEORACHA,   Maids of Honour, in love with...                       NOODLE.
Courtiers, Guards, Rebels, Drums, Trumpets, Thunder and Lightning.
SCENE.-The Court of King Arthur, and a Plain thereabouts.
* Fielding's original, with his notes by Scriblerus Secundus, the Preface, &c. form a fund of sterling satire on
the criticisms of his cotemporaries, and on the works of former writers of tragedies.
511




v12                              TOM -THUMB.                                    [ACT L
DRAMATIS PERSON E.
HAYMARKET, 1810.                              HAYMARKET, 1810
KING ARTHUR,.........      Mr. Dowton.
ToM THUMB,..........        Master West.    QUEEN DOLLALLOLLA,..........Mrs Liston.
MERLIN,..............  Mr. Denman.  PRINCESS HUNCAMUNCA.........Mrs. Taylor.
LORD GRIZZLE.............Mr. Liston.        GLUMDALCA,..................Miss Leserve
NOODLE,..............  Mr. Taylor.        FRIZALETTA,.................. Miss Vining.
DOODLE,.Mr. Grove.                          PLUMANTE,................Mrs. Kendal.
GHOST.........     r. Denman.
ACT I.                       Queen. Is't so? why then perdition catch the
SCENE I.-A Palace Yard.                      failers!
Let's have a row, and get as drunk as tailors.
Enter DOODLE on one side of the stage, and
NOODLE on the other; after a long obeisance,                  AIR.
they embrace.                                What though I now am half seas o'er
I scorn to balk this bout
Of stiff rack-punch fetch bowls a score,
Dood.  Sure such a day,'Fore George. I'll see them out.
So renown'd, so victorious-                                 What though, &c.
Such a day as this was never seen;             But, Sir, your queen'twould ill become,
Courtiers so gay,                      T' indulge in vulgar sips;
And the mob so uproarious-               No drop of brandy, gin, or rum,
Nature seems to wear a universal grin.           Should pass these roval lips.
Nood.  Arthur to Doll                                           But, Sir, &c.
Is grown bobbish and uxorious;           Chorus.-Rum ti iddity, row, row, row;
While both she and Huncamunca tipple, talking    If we'd a good sup, we'd take it now.
tawdry;
Even Mr. Sol,                        King. Though rack, in punch, ten shillings
So tifted out, so glorious,                    were a quart,
Glitters like a beau in a new birth-day embroidery. And rum and brandy be but half-a-crown,
Rather than quarrel, thou shalt have thy fill.
Dood. Oh,'tis a day                                   [Flourish of drums and trumpets.
Of jubilee, cajollery;                   Nood. These martial sounds, my liege, amA day we never saw before;                       nounce the general.
A.day of fun and drollery.               King. Haste we to meet, and meetly to receive
Nood. That you may say,                            him.
Their majesties may boast of it;               [Rises from the throne; martial music.
And since it never can come more,         Enter TOM THUMB, Attendants, and GLUM-'Tis fit they make the most of it.                   DALCA, in chains.
Dood. Oh,'tis a day, &c.                  Welcome, thrice  welcome, mighty  Thomas
Nood. That you may say, &c.                        Thumb!
Dood. Sure such a day, &c.                 Thou tiny hero-pigmy giant queller 
Nood. Courtiers so gay, &c.                What gratitude can thank away the debt
Dood. Yes, Noodle, yes;-to-day the mighty  Thy valour puts upon us.
Thumb                                            [ Takes him up and embraces him.
Returns triumphant.-Captive giants swarm       Queen. Oh! ye gods!               [Aside.
Like bees behind his car. [Flourish of trumpets.         en I'm not thank'd at all I  thankd
Nood. These trumpets speak the king at levee       enough~~~-I ga~o.  ~I've done my duty, and I've done no more
-Io.
Dood. And I also-to offer my petition.                                          [Bows.
Nood. Doodle, do.                  [Exit.    Queen.. Was ever such a godlike creature seen?
King. Thy modesty's a flambeau to thy merit;
SCENE II.-Inside of the Palace.        It shines itself, and shows thy merit too.
The, KING and QUEEN seated on a throne. — 0 Tommy, Tommy Thumb! what to thy prowLORD GRIZZIE, Courtiers, and Attendants.-         ess o we owe!
7DOODLE and NOODLE apart.  -Ask some reward-great as we can bestow.
Tom. I ask not kingdoms, I can conquer those;
King. Let no face but a face of joy be seen!  I ask not money, money I've enough:
The man, who this day frowns, shall lose his head, If this be called a debt, take my receipt in full:
That he may have no face to frown withal-    I ask but this, to sun myself in Huncamunca's
Smile, Dollallolla!             [Kisses her.        eyes
Dood. [IKneeling.] Dread liege,              King. [Aside.] Prodigious bold request!
This petition —                                Queen. Be still, my soul!King. [Dashes it away.] Petition me no peti-   King. [After a pause.] It is resolv'd.
tions, Sir, to-day;                  The princess is thy own!.      [To THUMB.
To-day it is our pleasure-to be drunk,         Tom. 0 happy Tommy! super-happy Thumb
And this our queen shall be as drunk as we.  Whisper, ye winds, that Huncamunca's mine!




SCFNE 1I.]                       TOM  THUMB.;                                      513
The bloody bus'ness of grim war is o'er,           If the husband, once gives way
And beauty, heavenly beauty, crowns my toils.      To his wife's capricious sway,
For his breeches he next day
AIR. m                            May go whoop and hollow.  [Exeunt
As when the chimney-sweeper
Has, all the live-long day,          SCENE 11.-Changes to the outside of the
Through darksome paths a creeper,                        Palace.
Pursued his sooty way:                          Enter LORD GRIZZLE.
At night, to wash in water               Griz. Arthur wrongs me!
His hands and face he flies;        Cheats me of my Huncamunca!
And, in his t'other tatter,            Rouse thee, Grizzle!'Sblood, I'll be a rebel.
With his Brickdusta lies.           Alas! What art thou, honour?
[Exit; —lourish of Trumpets. A Monmouth-street laced coat, gracing to-day
King. [Looking fondly at GLUMDALCA.1 I feel My back; to-morrow glittering on another'sa sudden pain across my breast; [Aside. To arms! to arms!
Nor know I whether it proceeds from love
Or the wind-cholic-but time will show.-Huge-           Enter QUEEN, in a rage.
ous queen of hearts! QQueen. Teach me to scold, O Grizzle!
Sure thou wert form'd by all the gods in council;   Grix. Scold, would my queen.-Say, ah!
W'ho, having made a lucky hit beyond their jour- wherefore!
~~~ney-work,  ~Queen. Wherefore!
Cry'd out-" This is a woman!"       [taken. Faggots and fire-my daughter to Tom Thumb!
Glum. Then were the gods confoundedly mis-   Griz. I'll mince the atom into countless pieces.
We are a giantess-I tell thee, Arthur,         Queen. Oh! no; prevent the match, but hurt
We yesterday were both a queen and wife;             not himOne hundred thousand giants own'd our sway;   HIim!-thou!-thou kill the man
Twenty whereof were wedded to ourself.       Who kill'd the giants 
Queen. Oh, bless'd prerogative of giantism!  Gri. Giants!-why, Madam,'tis all fiummery:
[Aside.  Ie made the giants first, and then he kill'd them.
King. Oh! vast queen — Think  our court   Queen. How! hast thou seen no giants? Are
~thine own;~ [pay,                   there not
Call for whate'er thou lik'st-there's nought to Now in our yard ten thousand proper giants?
Nor art thou captive, but thy captive we.      Griz. Madam, shall I tell vou what I am going
[ Takes of her chains, to say? I do not positively know, but, as near as
Queen. [Aside.] Ha! Arthur faithless!      I can guess, I cannot tell; though I firmly do beThis gag my rival, too, in dear Tom Thumb!   lieve there is not one.
Revenge!-bhut I'll dissemble —                Queen. Out from my sight, base Pickthank.
Madam, believe that with a woman's eye               hie, begone 
I view your loss-take comfort-for, to-morrow    By all my stars, thou enviest Tom Thumb.
Our grenadiers shall be called out, then choose  Griz. Yes, yes, I go; but, Madam, know
As many husbands as you think you'll want.             (Since your majesty's so pert)
Glum. Madam, I rest your much obliged and          That a flood of Tommy's blood,
vervy humble servant.        [Exit.            To allay this storm shall spirt.
Queen. Though greater yet Tom's boasted
merit was,
He shall not have my daughter, that is pos.        SCENE III.-An Antechamber.
[Advancing to the KING.            The KING on a Couch.
King. Ha! say'st thou?
Queen. Yes, I say he sha'n't.              Ihing. Methought
KRing. How, sha'n't!                     I heard a voice say, " Sleep no more!
Now by our royal self, we swear-I'll be damn'd, Glumdalca exiles sleep-and therefore, Arthur
but he shall.                       Can sleep no more.
AIR. —QUEEN.''The Ghost qf GAFFER THUMB rises, with a blue
lantern on a long staff.
Then tremble all, who weddings ever made,
And tremble more who did this match persuade;  Soon shal t t  hou sleep enough.
For, like a worried eat, I'll spit, I'll squall,
I'll1 scratch,'11 tear the eyes out of ye all.  ing. Ah! what art thou?
[lThe KING throws his hat at the QUEEN.   Ghost. The ghost of Gaffer Thumb.
[Exelunt sQUEEN and LADIES.Q     King. A ghost f-Stand off!
I'll have thee laid in the Red Sea.
Dood. Her majesty, the queen, is in a passion.   Ghost. Oh, Arthur! take heed.
IKing. She may be damn'd. Who cares? We My thread is spun-list, list, oh, list!
were indeed
A pretty king of clouts, were we to truckle                     AIR.
To all her maudlin humours.                          Pale death is prowling,
AIR. — KING.                         Dire omens, scowling,
Doom thee -to slaughter,
VWe kings, who are in our senses,              Thee, thy wife, and daughter.
Mock our consorts violences;                   Furies are growling,
Pishing at their moods and tenses,                 With horrid groans:
Our own will we follow.                      Grizzle's rebellion,
VOL. 1.... 3 T




5i4                              TO M  THUMB.                                 - - [ACTiIi
What neel 1 tell you on?                    Set us grap'ling,
Or by a red cow,                    And we'll stock a baby-house soon.
Tom Thumb devoured.                  Hunc. Oh!
Hark! the cock crowing. [Cock crows.   Griz. Ah!                         [Exit.
I must be going,
I can no more.     [Vanishes.
King. No more! and why no more, or why so    Tom. Where is my Huncanunca I where's
much q                                      my princess?
Better quite ignorant, than half instructed.  Where those bright eyes, the card-matches of
By Jove, this bo-peep ghost makes game of us         Cupid,
Therefore, Fate, keep your secret to yourself.  That light up all with love my waxen soul?
Hunc. Put out the light, nor waste thy little
AIR.                             taper.
Such a fine king as I don't fear your threats of a    Tom. Put out the light? impossible!
rush,                               As well Sir Solomon might put out his rush-light.
Do show your sweet phiz again, and I'll quickly   Hunc. I am to Lord Grizzle promis'd.
call up a blush,                       Tom. Promis'd!
For I am up, up, up,                    Hune. Too sure,'tis enter'd in fate's journal.
But you are down, down, down,          Tom. Enter'd.
Do pop up your nob again,             Zounds! I'll tear out the leaf-I'll blot the page
And'egad I'll crack your crown.            -I'll burn the book.
Who cares for you, Mr. Ghost? or all that you I tell thee, princess, had I been thy help-mate,
can do;                             We soon had peopled this whole realm  with
Ilaugh at your stupid threats, and your cock-a-      Thumbs.
doodle do;              [Cock crows.   Hunc. 0 fie! I shudder at the gross idea!
For I am up, up, up,                     Tom. Then go we to the king-let him decide,
But you are down, down, down;       Whether you shall be Grizzle's or my bride.
Draw your sword like a man,                    [Going out hand-in-hand, are met by
Or I'll box you for a crown.                   GLUMDALCA.
Rum ti iddity, &c.    [Scene closes.   Glum. Stop, brandy-nose! hopest thou the
wight,
SCENE IV.-HUNCAMUNCA's Dressing Room. Who once hath worn my easy chains, will toil in
HUNCAMUNCA at her toilette, FRIZALETTA            thine?
waiting.                     Hunc. Easy, no doubt, by twenty husbands
worn.
Hunc. Give me some music,-see that it be sad.   Tom. In the balcony which o'erhangs the
[Band plays a strain.        In the balcony which o'erhangs the
[Band plays a strain.tae
Oh, Tommy Thumb! why art thou Tommy                    g,
Oh, Tomny Thumbmb  why art thou Tommy I've seen one wench two'prentices engage:
Thumb?
h   This half-a-crown doth in his fingers hold,
Why had not mighty Bantam been thy father.  That just lets peep a little bit of gold.
Why not the king of Brentford, old or new   Miss, th e half-guinea wisely both purloin
Frix. Madam, Lord Grizzle.                 Miss, the half-guinea wisely doth purloin,
And scorns the bigger, and the baser, coin.
Enter LORD GRIZZLE.
TRIO.
Griz. [Kneeling.] Oh, Huncamunca! Hunca-   Glum. Oh! the vixen pigmy brat,
munca, oh!                                              Of inches scarce half six;
Iunc. This to my rank,-bold man!                   To slight me for a chit like that,
Griz. A 1, beauteous princess i                      Ah! Mr. Tom, are these your tricks I
Love levels rank,-lords down to cellar bears,
And bids the brawny porter walk up stairs.-    Hunc. Oh! the coarse salacious trull,
Nought is for love too high, nor aught too low-        Who giant paramours twice ten
Oh, Huncamunca! Huncamunca, oh!                          To bed can pull,
Hunc. My lord, in vain, a-suitoring you come,          With hugs can lull,
For I'm engaged this instant to Tom Thumb.               Yet still would gull
Griz. Play not the fool! that less than baby         Young gentlemen.
shun,                                  Tom. Little though I be,
Or you will ne'er be brought to bed of one.          I scorn the sturdy strum;
Hunc. Am I thus fobb'd?-then I my words               Nor ever she,
Nor ever she,
recal.
Griz. Shall I to Doctors' Commons                      My dear from thee
Shall debauch thy own Tom Thumb.
Hunc. Do so, prayI now am in the mood, and cannot stay.         Glum. Oh! the vixen, &c.
Hunc. Oh! the coarse, &c.
AIR.- -GRIZZLE.                 Tom. Little though I be, &c.     [Exeur6.
In hurry post haste for a license,                          ACT II.
In hurry ding dong I come back;
For that you sha'n't need bid me twice hence,  SCENTE i.-The Court of the Palace.
I'll be there, and here, in a crack.                   Enter NOODLE.
Hey ting,
My heart's on the wing,              Nood. Sure, Nature means to unhinge the solid
I now could leap over the moon,                  globe! 
Let the chaplain                    Chaos is come again-all's topsy-turvy.




CE~NS IV.{                       TOM   TH U MB.                                    515
AIm.        -            Enter GLUMDALCA, and meets GRIZZLE, while'fighting THUMB.
King Arthur in love ancle deep-speed  the
Giumdalca will soon be his punk-a;;  [plough,   Glum. Turn, coward, turn! nor from a wo-'The Queen Dollallolla's as drunk as a sow,           man fly 
In bed with Tom ~ Thumb, Huncam'unca.        Griz. Thou art unworthy of my arm.
Glum. Am I.
Enter LORD GRIZZLE, hastily.         Have at thy heart then!
Griz. If this be true, all women kind are                   [Thrusts at, but misses him.
damn'd.                                Griz. Rampant queen of sluts!
Nood. If it be not, may I be damn'd myself.    Now have at thine.              [Strikes.
[Exit.    Glum. [Falling.] You've run me through the
Griz. Then, get out, patience! oh, I'm whirl-      guts.
wind all;                              Griz. Then there's an end of one.  [Going.
Havoc, let loose the dogs of war, halloo!  [Exit.   [Is met by TOM THUMB who runs him
through.
SCENE II.-A  Chamber in the Palace.         Tom. An end of two,
Enter QUEEN.                  Thou hast it.                         [Exit.
Queen. Ah! wherefore from his Dollallolla's   Grix. Oh, Tom  Thumb! [Falls.] thy soul
Doth Arthur steal 2 Why all alone,    [arms          beshrew
And in the dark, leave her, whose feeble nerves   I die-Ambition I the fates have made their tour,
He knows are harrow'd up with fears of spirits1   And the black cart is waiting at the door.
Enter KING.                                      AIR.
King. We hop'd the fumes, sweet queen, of        My body is a bankrupt's shop,
last night's punch,                -         My cruel creditor, grim Death;
last night's punch,brisk trade a stop,
Had glued thy lovely eyes; but, ah! we find        Who  uts to life's brisk trade a stop,.Bad.ld.hy Xoy es.u.h iAnd will be paid with my last breath.There is no power in drams to quiet wives.! Oh b Oh!       y       Dies.
Oh! Oh! Oh!                [Dies.
Enter NOODLE.
Enter TOM THUMB and Attendants.
Nood. Long life to both your majesties,-if life
Be worth a fig-Lord Grizzle, at the head'Twill witness t the king Tom  Thumb's good
Be worth a fig —Lord  Grizzle, at the head   -Tom. Bear off the carcasses; lop off' his knob,
Of a rebellious rout, invests the palace;            job
Of a rebellious rout, invests the palace'Twill witness to the king Tom  Thumb's good
He swears —unless the princess straight              Job;
e swyielded up, with Tom  T  humb's pate,    Rebellion's dead, and now-I'll go to breakfast.
Be yielded up, with Tom Thumb's pate,                                              [Exit.
About your ears he will beat down the gate.                                        [Exit.
King. The devil he will!-but see the princess!        [Attendants lay hold of GRIZZLE.
Griz. Why dost thou call me from the peaceEnter HUNCAMUNCA.                        ful grave?
Say, where's the mighty Thumb, our sword and    Attend. Sir, we came to bear your body off.
buckler?                     [gods:   Griz. Then I'll bear it off myself.  [Exeunt,
Though'gainst us men and giants league with
Yet Thumb alone is equal to more odds.-The  Presence-chamber
Hunc. About an hour and a half ago         Enter KING, QUEEN, HUNCAMUNCA, Dc9DpE
Tom sallied forth to meet the foe,             PLUMANTE, FRIZAIETTA, and Attendant.
And soon, who's who, he'll make them know.
Ic~ingf. Oh!i~ oh!~ E~iKng. Open the prisons, set the wretched free
Come, Dollallolla: Huncamunca, come;         And bid our treasurer disburse five guineas
Within, we'll wait in whole skins for Tom  To pay their debts.-Let our arch necromancer,
Thumb.                    [Exeunt Sage Merlin, straight attend us:-we the while
WVill view the triumph of our son-in-law.
SCENE III.-A Plain.                 Hunc. Take note, Sir, that on this our wedEnter LORD GRIZZLE, NOODLE, and Rebels.             ding-day
[A March.]                  Two victories hath my gallant husband won.
Griz. Thus far with victory our arms are                 Enter NOODLE.
crown'd;                     [found   Nood. Oh, monstrous, dreadful, terrible! oh! oh!
For, though we have not fought, yet have we   King. What means the blockhead?
No enemy to fight withal.                      Nood. But to grace my tale with decent horror:
[Drums and Trumpets. Tom Thumb is no more!
A huge red cow, larger than the largest size, just
Enter THUMB, DOODLE, and Soldiers.
now i'the open street,
Tom. Art thou the man, whom  men fam'd Before my eyes, devour'd the great Tom Thumb 
Grizzle call?                                                  [A general groan.
Griz. Art thou the much more fam'd Tom    King. Shut, shut again the prisons:
Thumb the small?                   Let our treasurer                      pnits;
Tom. The same.                            Not issue out three farthings. Hang all the cul
Griz. The same.                            And bid the schoolmasters whip all their little boys.
Torn. His prowess now each prove.            Nood. Her majesty the queen is in a swoon
Griz. For liberty I stand.                   Queen. Not so much in a swoon, but to have
rom. And I fbr love.                               still
[A battle between the two armies; they Strength to reward the messenger of ill.
fight of.                                                 [QUEEN kills NOODLX




516                              T O M  T H U M B.                             [ACr I1J
Friz. My lover kill'd-                     King. [To the QCUEEN.) One lund buss, my
His death I thus revenge.    [Kills the LQUEEN.        Dolly Queen;
Hunc. Kill my mamma!                              When we two last parted,
0 base assassin! there!    [Kills FRIZALETTA.     We scarce hop'd to buss again;
Dood. For that, take this!    [Kills HUNCA.        My heart! lord, how it smarted!
Plum. And thou, take that.  [Kills DOODLE.
King. Die, murderess vile!   [Kills PLUM. QUEEN. [To the KING.] Dear King Atty, pitty,
Ah, Death makes a feast to-day,                        patty,
And but reserves ourselves for his bon bouche.       Mine too went a fleeting;
So when the boy, whom nurse from danger guards,    Now we in a nipperkin
Sends Jack for mustard with a pack of cards;         May toast this merry meeting.
Kings, queens, and knaves, tip one another down, Tom. [To HUNG.] Come, my Hunky. come, my
Till the whole pack lie scatter'd and o'erthrown.    Love's in haste, don't stay him;  [pet,
Thus all our pack upon the floor is cast,          Deep we are in Hymen's debt
And my sole boast is, that I will die the last.      And  s high time we pay him.
[Stabs himself;-they all lie on the stage, dead.
MERLIN rises. — Thunder and lightning.    Hunc. [ To TOM.] Have, dear Tommy,
Pity on me;
Merlin. Blood, what a scene of slaughter's here!  I am by shame restricted;
But I'll soon shift it, never fear.                  Yet I obey,
Gallants, behold! one touch of Merlin's magic,       So take your way,
Shall to gay comic change this dismal tragic.      I must not contradict it.
[ /Waves his wand.
ee hages, and discovers the Co.  Griz. [ To GLUM.] Grandest Glum, in my behoof,
Scene changes, and discovers the Cow..
To love's law be pliant;
First, at my word, thou horned cannibal,           Me you'll find a man of proof,
Return again our England's Hannibal.                 Although not quite a giant.
[ Thunder.
Thunder. Glum. [ To GRIz.] Indeed, Lord Griz,
[THUMB is thrown out qf the Cow's mouth, and         Though for that phiz
starts fiercely.]                   Few amorous queens would choose you;
Next to you, king, queen, lords, and commons,        Yet thus bereft,
I issue my hell-bilking summons.                     Not one chum left,
I think I can't refuse you.
INCANTATION.
Merlin. Now love and live, and live and love.
All. Sage Merlin's in the right on't;
Who deal out deaths, you know not why;'lIerlin. Each couple prove like hand in glove;
No more of porter pots, or plots,       All. A reed
Your senseless jealousy lay by.       All. A g  -.
Your souls cannot as yet be far  Queen.'Fore George, we'll make a night on't.
Your souls cannot as yet be far
Upon their way to dreary night:              All. Let discord cease,
My power remands them.                                 Let all in peace
[They all start up as MERLIN touches them.       Go home and kiss their spouses;
Enter GLUMDALCA and GRIZZLE.                    Join hat and cap
In one loud clap
Here ends jar,                                   And wish us crowded houses.
Live, love, and all this will be right.                                    [Exeunt.




PERC f:
A TRAGEDY,
IN FIVE ACTS,
BY MRS. HANNAH MORE.
REMARKS.
rPIs tragedy, in which Mrs. Hannah More is supposed to have been assisted by Garrick, was produced at Covent
Garden Theatre, in 1778, with success; and revived, in 1818, at the same theatre.
The feuds of the rival houses of Percy and of Douglas have furnished materials for this melancholy tale, in
which Mrs. More* has embodied many judicious sentiments and excellent passages, producing a forcible lesson to
parental tyranny. The victim of her husband's unreasonable jealousy, Elwina's virtuous conflict Is pathetic ani
interesting; while Percy's sufferings, and the vain regret of Earl Raby, excite and increase our sympathy.
DRAMATIS PERSON2E.
PERCY, Earl of Northumberland,.......................... Mr. Lewis.
EARL DOUGLAS,.................Mr. Wroughton.
EARL RABY, Elwina's Father...................... Mr. Aickin.
EDRIC, Friend to Douglas,....................Mr. Whitefield
HARCOURT, Friend to Percy,...................Mr. Robson.
i3LR HUBERT, a Knight....r...............................Mr. Hull.
E.LWINA,.........................................Mrs. Barry.
BIRTHA,...........................................Mrs. Jackson.
Knights, Guards, Attendants, &c.
SCENE.-Raby Castle, in Durham.
ACT 1.                       And though the ties of blood unite us closely,
SCENE I.-A  Gothic Hall.               I shudder at his haughtiness of temper,
Which not his gentle wife, the bright Elwina,
Enter EDRIC and BIRTHA.               Can charm to rest.  Ill are their spirits pair'd;
Bir. What may this mean. Earl Douglas has  His is the seat of frenzy, hers of softness,
enjoin'd thee                           His love is transport, hers is trembling duty;
To meet him here in private I                    Rage in his soul is as the whirlwind fierce,
Edr. Yes, my sister,                           While hers ne'er felt the power of that rude
And this injunction I have oft receiv'd;                  passion.
But when he comes, big with some.painful secret,    Edr. Perhaps the mighty soul of Douglas
He starts, looks wild, then drops ambiguous hints,        mourns,
Frowns, hesitates, turns pale, and says'twas  Because inglorious love detains him here,
nothing;                                While our bold knights, beneath the Christian
Then feigns to smile, and by his anxious care             standard,
To prove himself at ease, betrays his pain.      Press to the bulwarks of Jerusalem.
Bir. Since my short sojourn here, I've mark'd    Bir. Though  every various charm  adorns
this earl,                                       Elwina,
* Of this estimable lady, a cotemporary writer says, " This lady has for many years flourished in the literary
world, which she has richly adorned by a variety of labours, all possessing strong marks of excellence. In the
cause of religion and society, her labours are original and indefatigable; and the industrious poor have.been at
once enlightened by her instructions, and supported by her bounty."
As a dramatic writer, Mrs. More is known by her " Search after Happiness," pastoral drama; " The Inflexible
Captive,"-" Percy," and " Fatal Falsehood," tragedies; and by her " Sacred Dramas."
44                                                      517




518                                   PERC Y.                                    [ACT L
And though the noble Douglas dotes to madness, A knight is bound by more than vulgar ties,
Yet some dark mystery involves their fate:    And perjury in thee were doubly damn'd.
The canker grief devours Elwina's bloom,      Well then, the king of EnglandAnd on her brow meek resignation sits,          Edr. Is expected
Hopeless, yet uncomplaining.                 From distant Palestine.
Edr.'Tis most strange.                       Dou. Forbid it, Heaven!
Bir. Once, not long since, she thought herself For with him comesalone;                                 Edr. Ah! who?'Twas then the pent-up anguish burst its bounds;   Dou. Peace, peace,
With broken voice, clasp'd hands, and streaming  For see Elwina's here. Retire, my Edric;
eyes,                                When next we meet, thou shalt know all. FareSlhe call'd upon her father, call'd him cruel,        well.                  [Exit EDRIC.
And said her duty claim'd far other recompense.  Now to conceal with care my bosom's anguish,
Edr. Perhaps the absence of the good Lord  And let her beauty chase away my sorrows!
Raby,                                Yes, I would meet her with a face of smilesWho, at her nuptials, quitted this fair castle,  But'twill not be.
Resigning it to her, may thus afflict her.
Hast thou e'er question'd her, good Birtha                  Enter ELWIN
Bir. Often,                                  Elw. Alas,'tis ever thus!
But hitherto in vain; and yet she shows me   Thus ever clouded is his angry brow.   [Aside.
The endearing kindness of a sister's love;     Dou. I were too bless'd, Elwina, could I hope
But if I speak to Douglas-                   You met me here by choice, or that your bosom
Edr. See! he comes.                        Shar'd the warm transports mine must ever feel
It would offend him should he find you here.  At your approach.
Enter IDOUGLAS.                  Elw. My lord, if 1 intrude,      [giveness; The cause which brings me claims at least for
Dou. How! Edric and his sister in close con- I fear you are not well, and come, unbidden,
ference?                            Except by faithful duty, to inquire,
Do they not seem alarm'd at my approach?    If haply in my power, my little power
And see, how suddenly they part! Now Edric,  1 have the means to minister relief
[Exit BIRTHA. To your affliction? 
Was this well done? or was it like a friend,  Dou. What unwonted goodness!
When I desir'd to meet thee here alone,      0 I were bless'd above the lot of man,
With all the warmth of trusting confidence,  If tenderness, not duty, brought Elwina;'To lay my bosom naked to thy view,          Cold, ceremonious, and unfeeling duty,
And show thee all its weakness, was it well   That wretched substitute for love: but know,
T'o call thy sister here, to let her witness  The heart demands a heart; nor will be paid
T['hy friend's infirmity?-perhaps to tell her-  With less than what it gives. E'en now, Elwina,
Edr. My lord, I nothing know; *I came to learn. The glistening tear stands trembling in your eyes,
Dou. Nay then thou dost suspect there's some- Which cast their mournful sweetness on the
thing wrong?                                 ground,
Edr. If we were bred from infancy together,   As if they fear'd to raise their beams to mine,
If I partook in all thy youthful griefs,     And read the language of reproachful love.
And every joy thou knew'st was doubly mine,     Elw. My lord, 1 hop'd the thousand daily proofs
Then tell me all the secret of thy soul:     Of my obedience
Or have these few short months of separation,  Dou. Death to all my hopes!          [ence I
The only absence we have ever known,         Heart-rending word!-obedience! what's obediHave these so rent the bands of love asunder,'Tis fear,'tis hate,'tis terror,'tis aversion,
That Douglas should distrust his Edric's truth?'Tis the cold debt of ostentatious duty,
I)ou. My friend, I know thee faithful as thou'rt Paid with insulting caution, to remind me
brave,                               How much you tremble to offend a tyrant
And I will trust thee-but not now, good Edric.  So terrible as Douglas.-O, Elwina-'Tls past,'tis gone, it is not worth the telling,    While duty measures the regard it owes'Twas wrong to cherish what disturb'd my peace; With scrupulous precision and nice justice,
I'll think of it no more.                    Love never reasons, but profusely gives,
Edr. Transporting news!                    Gives, like a thoughtless prodigal, its all,
I fear'd some hidden trouble vex'd your quiet.    And trembles then, lest it has done too little.
In secret I have watch'd-                      Elo. Indeed I'm most unhappy that my cares
Dou. Ha! watch'd in secret?               And my solicitude to please, offend.
A spy, employ'd, perhaps, to note my actions.  Dou. True tenderness is less solicitous,
What have 1 said? Forgive me, thou art noble:  Less prudent and more fond; the enamour'd heart
Yet do not press me to disclose my grief,    Conscious it loves, and bless'd in being lov'd,
For when thou know'st it, I perhaps shall hate thee Reposes on the object it adores,
As much, my Edric, as I hate myself          And trusts the passion it inspires and feels. -
For my suspicions-I am ill at ease.          Thou hast not learn'd how terrible it is
Edr. How will the fair Elwina grieve to hear it! To feed a hopeless flame.-But hear, Elwina,
Dou. Hold, Edric, hold-thou hast touch'd the  Thou most obdurate, hear me.fatal string                           Elwo. Say, my lord,
That wakes me into madness. Hear me then,   For your own lips shall vindicate my fame,
But let the deadly secret be secured         Since at the altar I became your wife,
With bars of adamant in thy close breast.    Can malice charge me with an act, a word
Think on the curse whi&l waits on broken oaths; I ought to blush at? Have I not still liv'd




BSIENE  I.]                          PERCY.                                        519
As open to the eye of observation,             Elw. Not sudden: no; long has the storm
As fearless innocence should ever live?              been gathering,
t call attesting angels to be witness,       Which threatens speedily to burst in ruin
If in my open deed, or secret thought,       On this devoted head.
My conduct, or my heart, they've aught discern'd    Bir. I ne'er beheld
Which did not emulate their purity.          Your gentle soul so ruffled, yet I've marked you,
Dou. This vindication ere you were accus'd,   While others thought you happiest of the happy,
This warm defence, repelling all attacks     Bless'd with whate'er the world calls great, or
Ere they are made, and construing casual words       good,
To formal accusations, trust me, Madam,      With all that nature, all that fortune gives,
Shows rather an alarm'd and vigilant spirit,  I've mark'd you bending with a weight of sorrow.
For ever on the watch to guard its secret,     Elw. 0 I will tell thee all! thou couldst not find
Than the sweet calm of fearless innocence.   An hour, a moment in Elwina's life,
Who talk'd of guilt? Who testified suspicion?   When her full heart so long'd to ease its burden,
Eliw. Learn, Sir, that virtue, while'tis free from  And pour its sorrows in thy friendly bosom:
blame,                              Hear then, with pity hear, my tale of wo,
Is modest, lowly, meek, and unassuming;      And, 0 forgive, kind nature, filial piety,
Not apt, like fearful vice, to shield its weakness   If my presumptuous lips arraign a father!
Beneath the studied pomp of boastful phrase  Yes, Birtha, that belov'd, that cruel father,
Which swells to hide the poverty it shelters;  Has doom'd me to a life of hopeless anguish,
But, when this virtue feels itself suspected,  To die of grief ere half my days are number'd;
Insulted, set at nought, its whiteness stain'd,  Doom'd me to give my trembling hand to Douglas,
It then grows proud, forgets its humble worth,'Twas all I had to give-my heart was-Percy's.
Nnd rates itself above its real value,        Bir. What do I hear?
Dou. I did not mean to chide! but think, 0    Elw. My misery, not my crime.
think,                              Long since the battle'twixt the rival houses
What pangs must rend this fearful doting heart,  Of Douglas and of Percy, for whose hate
fo see you sink impatient of the grave,     This mighty globe's too small a theatre,
rIo feel, distracting thought! to feel you hate me! One summer's morn, my father chas'd the deer
Elw. What if the slender thread by which I On Cheviot Hills, Northumbria's fair domain,
hold                                  Bir. On that fam'd spot where first the feuds
This poor precarious being soon must break,          commenc'd
Is it Elwina's crime, or Heaven's decree?   Between the earls?
Yet I shall meet, I trust, the king of terrors,  Elw. The same. During the chace,
Submissive and resign'd, without one pang,   Some of my father's knights receiv'd an insult
One fond regret, at leaving this gay world.  From the Lord Percy's herdsmen, churlish foDou. Yes, Madam, there is one, one man ador'd,     resters,
For whom your sighs will heave, your tears will Unworthy of the gentle blood they serv'd.
flow,                               My father, proud and jealous of his honour,
For whom this hated world will still be dear,    (Thou know'st the fiery temper of our barons,)
For whom you still would live —              Swore that Northumberland had been concern'd
Elw. Hold, hold my lord,                  In this rude outrage, nor would hear of peace,
What may this mean t                         Or reconcilement, which the Percy offer'd;
Dou. Ah! I have gone too far.             But bade me hate, renounce, and banish him
What have I said.-Yourfather, sure, your father, O!'twas a task too hard for all my duty:
The good Lord Raby, may at least expect     I strove, and wept; I strove-but still I lov'd.
One tender sigh.                               Bir. Indeed'twas most unjust; but say what
Elw. Alas, my lord! I thought                     follow'd?                    [tale?
The precious incense of a daughter's sighs    Elw. Why should I dwell on the disastrous
Might rise to heaven, and not offend its ruler.    Forbid to see me, Percy soon embark'd
Dou.'Tis true; yet Raby is no more belov'd   With our great king against the Saracen.
Since he bestow'd his daughter's hand on Douglas: Soon as the jarring kingdoms were at peace,
That was a crime the dutiful Elwina         Earl Douglas, whom till then I ne'er had seen,
Can never pardon; and believe me, Madam,     Came to this castle;'twas my hapless fate
My love's so nice, so delicate my honour,    To please him.-Birtha! thou can'st tell what
I am asham'd to owe my happiness                     followed:
To ties which make you wretched. [Exit DouGLAs. But who shall tell the agonies I felt?
Elw. Ah! how's this?                     My barbarous father forc'd me to dissolve
Though I have ever found him fierce and rash,   The tender vows himself had bid me formFull of obscure surmises and dark hints,     He dragg'd me trembling, dying, to the altar,
Till now he never ventur'd to accuse me.     I sigh'd, I struggled, fainted, and complied.
" Yet there is one, one man belov'd, ador'd,   Bir. Did Douglas know, a marriage had been
For whom your tears will flow"-these were his Propos'd'twixt you and Percy?      [onoe
words-                                Elw. If he did,
And then the wretched subterfuge of Raby-    He thought, like you, it was a match of policy,
How poor th' evasion!-But my Birtha comes.   Nor knew our love surpass'd our fathers' prudence.
Bir. Should he now find he was the instruEnter BIRTHA.                         ment
Bir. Crossing the portico I met Lord Douglas, Of the Lord Raby's vengeance?
Disorder'd were his looks, his eyes shot fire;  Elw.'Twere most dreadful!
He call'd upon your name with such distraction   My father lock'd this motive in his breast,
I fear'd some sudden evil had befallen you.  And feign'd to have forgot the chace of Chevint.




520                                    P E R C Y.                                [ACr I}
Some moons have now completed their slow course I am convinc'd-I can no longer doubt,
Since my sad marriage.-Percy still is absent.    Nor talk, nor hear, nor reason, nor reflect.
Bir. Nor will return before his sov'reign comes. -I must retire, and give a loose to joy.
Elw. Talk not of his return! this coward heart                           [Exit DOUGLAS
Can know no thought of peace but in his absence.   Bir. The king returns.
How, Douglas here again? some fresh alarm!    Elw. And with him Percy comes!
Enter DOUGL A s, agitated, with letters in his hand.   Bir. You needs must go.
Dou. Madam, your pardon —                     Elw. Shall I solicit ruin,
Elw. What disturbs my lord?          [ease. And pull destruction on me ere its time?
Dou. Nothing. —Disturb! I ne'er was more at I, who have held it criminal to name him q
I who have held it criminal to name him?
DoI. Nothing.-Disturb! I ne'er was more at   will not go-I disobey thee, Douglas,
These letters from your father give us notice  But disobey thee to preserve thy honour. [et.
He will be here to-night: —He farther adds,
~e will be here to-night:-He farther adds,    But disobey thee to preserve thy honour. [ExerAt.
The king's each hour expected.                                  ACT TI.
Elw. How? the king?
Said you, the king?                                      SCENE I.-The Hall
Dou. And'tis Lord Raby's pleasure
That you among the foremost bid him welcome.            Enter DOUGLAS, speaking
You must attend the court.                    See that the traitor instantly be seiz'd,
Elw. Must I, my lord?                      And strictly watch'd; let none have access to him,
Dou. Now to observe how she receives the — O jealousy, thou aggregate of woes!
news!                        [Aside. Were there no hell, thy torments would create one
Elsw. I must not,-cannot.-By the tender love But yet she may be guiltless-may 1 she must.
You have so oft profess'd for poor Elwina,    How beautiful she look'd! pernicious beauty!
Indulge this one request-O let me stay!       Yet innocent as bright seem'd the sweet blush
Dou. Enchanting sounds! she does not wish  That mantled on her cheek. But not for me,
to go-                       [Aside. But not for me, those breathing roses blow!
ElKw. The bustling world, the pomp which  And then she wept-What! can I bear her tears 2
waits on greatness,                   Well-let her weep-her tears are for another;
Ill suits my humble, unambitious soul;-      O did they fall for me, to dry their streams
Then leave me here, to tread the safer path   I'd drain the choicest blood that feeds this heart,
Of private life; here, where my peaceful course   Nor think the drops I shed were half so precious.
Shall be as silent as the shades around me;                  [He stands in a musing posture.
2Nor shall one vagrant wish be e'er allow'd
To stray beyond the bounds of Raby Castle.
Dou. 0 music to my ears! [Aside.] Can you    Raby. Sure I mistake-am I in Raby Castle?
resolve                               Impossible; that was the seat of smiles -
To hide those wondrous beauties in the shade,   And Cheerfulness and Joy were household gods.
Which rival kings would cheaplybuy with empire? I us'd to scatter pleasures when I came,
Can you renounce the pleasures of a court,    And every servant shar'd his lord's delight;
Whose roofs resound with minstrelsy and mirth? But now Suspicion and Distrust dwell here,
Elw. My lord, retirement is a wife's best duty, And Discontent maintains a sullen sway.
And virtue's safest station is retreat.       Where is the smile unfeign'd, the jovial welcome,
Dou. My soul's in transports! [Aside.] But Which cheer'd the sad, beguil'd the pilgrim's pain,
can you forego                       And made Dependency forget its bonds?
What wins the soul of woman-admiration?      Where is the ancient, hospitable hall,
A world, where charms inferior far to yours   Whose vaulted roofonce rung with harmless mirth,
Only presume to shine when you are absent!    Where every passing stranger was a guest,
Will you not long to meet the public gaze?   And every guest a friend? I fear me much,
Long to eclipse the fair, and charm the brave'l  If once our nobles scorn their rural seats,
Elw. These are delights in which the mind Their rural greatness, and their vassals' love,
partakes not.                         Freedom and English grandeur are no more.
Dou. I'll try her farther.         [Aside.   Dou. [Advancing.] My lord, you are welcome.
[ Takes her hand, and looks steadfastly at her   Raby. Sir, I trust I am;
as he speaks.                         But yet methinks I shall not feel I'm welcome
But reflect once more:                        Till my Elwina bless me with her smiles:
When you shall hear that England's gallant peers. She was not wont with ling'ring step to meet me,
Fresh from the fields of war, and gay with glory,  Or greet my coming with a cold embrace;
All vain with conquest, and elate with fame,  Now, I extend my longing arms in vain:
When you shallhear these princelyyouths contend, My child, my darling, does not come to fill them.
In many a tournament, for beauty's prize;     O they were happy days, when she would fly
When you shall hear of revelry and masking,    To meet me from the camp, or from the chace,
Of mimic combats and of festive halls,        And with her fondness overpay my toils!
Of lances shiver'd in the cause of love,      How eager would her tender hands unbrace
Will you not then repent, then wish your fate,   The ponderous armour from my war-worn limbs,
Your happier fate, had till that hour reserv'd you  And pluck the helmet which oppos'd her kiss!
For some plumed conqueror?                     Dou. 0 sweet delights, that never must be mine'
Elw. My fate, my lord,                        Raby. What do I hear?
Is now bound up with yours.                     Dou.:Nothing: inquire no farther.
Dou. Here let me kneel-               [der;   Raby. My lord, if you respect an old man'
Yes, I will kneel, and gaze, and weep, and won-       peace,
Thou paragon of goodness!-pardon, pardon.    If e'er you doted on my tnuch-lov'd child,
[Kisses her hand. As'tis most sure you made me think you did,




SCENE r.]                            PER CY.                                      521
Then, by the pangs which you may one day feel, She begg'd to stay behind in Raby Castle,
When you, like me, shall be a fond, fond father,  For courts and cities had no charms for her.
And tremble for the treasure of your age,   Curse my blind love! I was again ensnar'd,
Tell me what this alarming silence means?  And doted on the sweetness which deceiv'd me.
You sigh, you do not speak, nay more, you hear Just at the hour she thought I should be absent,
not;                                (For chance could ne'er have tim'd their guilt so
Your lab'ring soul turns inward on itself,           well,)
As there were nothing but your own sad thoughts Arriv'd young Harcourt, one of Percy's knights,
Deserv'd regard. Does my child live?       Strictly enjoin'd to speak to none but her;
Dou. She does.                            I seiz'd the miscreant: hitherto he's silent,
Raby. To bless her father!                But tortures soon shall force him to confess
Dou. And to curse her husband!              Raby. Percy is absent-They have never met,
Raby. Ah! have a care, my lord, I'm  not so   Dou. At what a feeble hold you grasp for sueold-                                         cour!
Dou. Nor I so base, that 1 should tamely bear it; Will it content me that her person's pure?
Nor am I so inur'd to infamy,               No, if her alien heart dotes on another,
That I can say, without a burning blush,    She is unchaste, were not that other Percy.
She lives to be my curse!                    Let vulgar spirits basely wait for proof,
Raby. How's this?                         She loves another-'tis enough for Douglas.
Dou. I thought                               Baby. Be patient.
The lily opening to the heaven's soft dews,    Dou. Be a tame convenient husband,
Was not so fragrant, and was not so chaste.  And meanly wait for circumstantial guilt?
Raby. Has she prov'd otherwise?  I'll not be- No-I am nice as the first Caesar was,
lieve it.                           And start at bare suspicion.         [Going.
Who has traduc'd my sweet, my innocent child    BRaby. [Holding him.] Douglas, hear me:
Yet she's too good to'scape calumnious tongues.  Thou hast nam'd a Roman husband; if she's
I know that Slander loves a lofty mark:             false,
It saw her soar a flight above her fellows,  I mean to prove myself a Roman father.
And hurl'd its arrow to her glorious height,                             [Exit DOUGLAs.
To reach her heart, and bring her to the ground. This marriage was my work, and thus I'm puDou. Had the rash tongue of Slander so pre-        nish'd!
sum'd,                                             Enter ELWINA.
My vengeance had not been of that slow sort
To need a prompter; nor should any arm,       Elw. Where is my father? let me fly to meet
No, not a father's, dare dispute with mine,  O let me clasp his venerable knees,   [him,
The privilege to die in her defence.        And die of joy in his belov'd embrace!
None dares accuse Elwina, but-                 Raby. [Avoiding her embrace.] Elwina!
Raby. But who?                             Elw. And is that all? so cold?
Dou. But Douglas.                           Raby. [Sternly.] Elwina!
Raby. [Puts his hand to his sword.] You?-    Elw. Then I'm undone indeed! How stern
O spare my age's weakness!                  his looks!'You do not know what'tis to be a father;   I will not be repuls'd, I am your child,
You do not know, or you would pity me,      The child of that dear mother you ador'd;
The thousand tender throbs, the nameless feel- You shall not throw me off, I will grow here,
ings,                               And, like the patriarch, wrestle for a blessing.
The dread to ask, and yet the wish to know,   Raby. [Holding herfrom him.] Before I take
When we adore and fear; but wherefore fear?        thee in these aged arms,
Does not the blood of Raby fill her veins?  Press thee with transport to this beating heart
Dou. Percy;-know'st thou that name?     And give a loose to all a parent's fondness,
Raby. How? What of Percy'                Answer, and see thou answer me as truly
Dou. He loves Elwina, and, my curses on him! As if the dread inquiry came from Heaven,He is belov'd again.                        Does no interior sense of guilt confound thee?
Raby. I'm on the rack!                   Canst thou lay all thy naked soul before me?
Dou. Not the two Theban brothers bore each Can thy unconscious eye encounter mine 
other                               Canst thou endure the probe, and never shrink i
Such deep, such deadly hate as I and Percy.  Can thy firm hand meet mine, and never tremble?
Baby. But tell me of my child.            Art thou prepar'd to meet the rigid Judge?
Dou. [Not minding him.] As I and Percy!   Or to embrace the fond, the melting father?
When at the marriage rites, O rites accurs'd!  Elw. Mysterious Heaven! to what am I re
I seiz'd her trembling hand, she started back,       serv'd!
Cold horror thrill'd her veins, her tears flow'd fast.   Raby. Should some rash man, regardless of
Fool that I was, I thought'twas maiden fear;        thy fame,
Dull, doting ignorance: beneath those terrors,    And in defiance of thy marriage vows,
Hatred for me and love for Percy lurk'd.    Presume to plead a guilty passion for thee,
RBaby. What proof of guilt is this?       V What wouldst thou do?
Dou. E'er since our marriage,               Elw. What honour bids me do.
Our days have still been cold and joyless all;  Raby. Come to my arms!   [ They embraoe
Painful restraint, and hatred ill disguis'd,   Elw. My father!
Her sole return for all my waste of fondness.  Raby. Yes, Elwina,
This very morn I told her'twas your will    Thou art my child-thy mother's perfect image
She should repair to court; with all those graces,   Elw. Forgive these tears of mingled joy ane
Which first subdued my soul, and still enslave it,  doubt
VoL. I....3 U         44*




.522                                 PERCY.                                    [ACT IL
F'or why that question? who should seek to please   Elw. When policy assumes religion's name,
1 he desolate Elwina'. And wears the sanctimonious garb of faith
Baby. But if any                          Only to colour fraud, and license murder
Should so presume, canst thou resolve to hate him, War then is tenfold guilt.
Whate'er his name, whate'er his pride of blood,  Raby. Blaspheming girl!
Whate'er his former arrogant pretensions.    Eluw.'Tis not the crosier, nor the pontiffs robe
Elw. Ha!                                   The saintly look, nor elevated eye,
Raby. Dost thou falter? Have a care, Elwina. Nor Palestine destroy'd, nor Jordan's banks
Elw. Sir, do not fear me: am I not your Deluged with blood of slaughter'd infidels;
daughter?                 [honour; No, nor the extinction of the eastern world,
Raby. Thou hast a higher claim  upon thy Nor all the mad, pernicious, bigot rage
Thou art Earl Douglas' wife.                 Of your crusades, can bribe that Power that sees
Elw. [ Weeps.] I am, indeed!               The motive with the act. 0 blind, to think
Raby. Unhappy Douglas!                    That cruel war can please the Prince of Peace!
Elsw. Has he then complain'd 1            He, who erects his altar in the heart,
Has he presum'd to sully my white fame?    Abhors the sacrifice of human blood,
Raby. He knows that Percy-                And all the false devotion of that zeal
Elw. Was my destin'd husband;             Which massacres the world he died to save.
By your own promise, by a father's promise,   Raby. 0 impious rage! If thou wouldst shun
And by a tie more strong, more sacred still,         my curse,                  [Hubert,
Mine, by the fast firm bond of mutual love.  No more, I charge thee.-Tell me, good Sir
Raby. Now, by my fears, thy husband told me Say, have our arms achiev'd this glorious deed,
truth.                              (I fear to ask,) without much C hristian blood-shed X
Elw. If he has told thee, that thy only child  Elwo. Now, Heaven support me!    [Aside
Was forc'd a helpless victim to the altar,     Sir H. My good lord of Raby,
Torn from his arms who had her virgin heart,   Imperfect is the sum of human glory!
And forc'd to make false vows to one she hated,  Would I could tell thee that the field was won,
Then I confess that he has told the truth.  Without. the death of such illustrious knights
Raby. Her words are barbed arrows in my, As make the high-flush'd cheek of victory pale.
heart.                                Elw. Why should I tremble thus 1    [Aside,
But'tis too late. [Aside.] Thou hast appointed   Raby. Who have we lost?         [Grey.
Harcourt                              Sir H. The noble Clifford, Walsingham, and
To see thee here by stealth in Douglas' absence? Sir Harry Hastings, and the valiant Pembroke,
Elw. No, by my life, nor knew I till this moment All men of choicest note.
That Harcourt was return'd. Was it for this   Raby. 0 that my name
I taught my heart to struggle with its feelings?   Had been enroll'd in such a list of heroes!
Was it for this I bore my wrongs in silence?  If I was too infirm to serve my country,
When the fond ties of early love were broken,   I might have prov'd my love by dying for her.
Did my weak soul break out in fond complaints?   Elw. Were there no more?
Did I reproach thee? Did I call thee cruel?   Sir H. But few of noble blood.
No-I endur'd it all; and wearied Heaven     But the brave youth who gain'd the palm of glory,
To bless the father who destroy'd my peace.  The flower of knighthood, and the plume of war,
Who bore his banner foremost in the field,
Yet conquer'd more by mercy than the sword,
YMess. My lord, a knight, Sir Hubert as I think, Was Percy.
But newly landed from the holy wars,          Elw. Then he lives!                [Aside.
Entreats admittance.                          Raby. Did he? Did Percy?
Raby. Let the warrior enter.               0 gallant boy, then I'm thy foe no more;
[Exit MESSENGER. Who conquers for my country is my friend!
All private interests sink at his approach;  His fame shall add new glories to a house,
All selfish cares be for a moment banish'd;  Where never maid was false, nor knight disI've now no child, no kindred but my country.       loyal.                       [tears:
Elce. Weak heart, be still, for what hast thou    Sir H. You do embalm him, lady, with your
to fear                             They grace the grave of glory where he liesEnter SIR HUBERT.              LHe died the death of honour.
Else. Said'st thou-died?
Raby. Welcome, thou gallant knight! Sir Hu-   Sir H. Beneath the towers of Solyma he fell.
bert, welcome!                       Elw. Oh!
Welcome to Raby Castle!-In one word,         Sir H. Look to the lady.
Is the king safe? Is Palestine subdu'd?             [ELwINAfaints in her father's arms.
Sir H. The king is safe, and Palestine subdu'd,   Raby. Gentle knight, retire- 
Raby. Bless'd be the God of armies! Now, Sir'Tis an infirmity of nature in her,4
Hubert,                             She ever mourns at any tale of blood;
By all the saints, thou'rt a right noble knight.    She will be well anon-meantime, Sir Hubert,
O why was I too old for this crusade!      You'll grace our castle with your friendly sojourn.
I think it would have made me young again,    Sir H. I must return with speed-health to the
Could I, like thee, have seen the hated crescent    lady.                         [E.it.
Yield to the Christian cronss.-How now, Elwina!   Raby. Look up, Elwina. Should her husband
What! cold at news which might awake the dead? Yet she revives not..   [come!
If there's a drop in thy degenerate veins                Enter DOUGLAs.'rhat glows not now, thou art not Raby's daughter.
It is religion's cause, the cause of Heaven I  Dou. Ha-Elwina fainting!




VuIEu I.)                              PERCY.                                          523
My lord, I fear you have too harshly chid her.    Be this the sacred pledge of faith between us.
Her gentle nature could not brook your sternness. I knelt, and swore, call'd every: power to witness,
She wakes, she stirs, she feels returning life.  No time, nor circumstance, should force it from me,
My love!                   [He takes her hand. But I would lose my life and that together —
Elw. 0 Percy!                                Here I repeat my vow.
Dou. [Starts.] Do my senses fail me.          Sir H. Is this the man
Elw. My Percy,'tis Elwina calls.            Beneath whose single arm a host was crush'd?
Dou. Hell, hell!                             He, at whose name the Saracen turn'd pale?
Raby. Retire awhile, my daughter..          And when he fell, victorious armies wept,
Elw. Douglas here,                           And mourn'd a conquest they had bought so dear?
Mty father and my husband?-0 for pity —       How has be chang'd the trumpet's martial note,
[Exit, casting a look of anguish on both. And all the stirring clangour of the war,
Dou. Now, now confess she well deserves my  For the soft melting of the lover's lute!
vengeance!  Why are thine eyes still bent upon the bower?
Before my face to call upon my foe!             Per. 0 Hubert, Hubert, to a soul enamour'd
Raby. Upon a foe who has no power to hurt There is a sort of local sympathy,
Earl Percy's slain.                  [thee-   Which, when we view the scenes of early passion,
Dou. I live again.-But hold-                 Paints the bright image of the object lov'd
Did she not weep? she did, and wept for Percy., In stronger colours than remoter scenes
If she laments him, he's my rival still,      Could ever paint it; realizes shade,
And not the grave can bury my resentment.      Dresses it up in all the charms it wore,
Raby. The truly brave are still the truly gen'rous. Talks to it nearer, frames its answers kinder,
Now, Douglas, is the time to prove thee both.    Gives form to fancy, and embodies thought.
If it be true that she did once love Percy,      Sir H. I should not be believ'd in Percy's camp,
Thou hast no more to fear, since he is dead.   If I should tell them that their gallant leader,
Release young Harcourt, let him see Elwina,    The thunder of the war, the bold Northumberiand,'Twill serve a double purpose,'twill at once  Renouncing Mars, dissolv'd in amorous wishes,
Prove Percy s death, and thy unchang'd affection. Loiter'd in shades, and pined in rosy bowers,
Be gentle to my child, and win her heart       To catch a transient gleam of two bright eyes.
By confidence and unreproaching love.            Per. Enough of conquest, and enough of war!
Dou. By Heaven, thou counsel'st well! it shall Ambition's cloy'd-the heart resumes its rights.
be done.                               When England's king, and England's good reGo set him free, and let him have admittance            quir'd,
To my Elwina's presence.                       This arm not idly the keen falchion brandish'd
Raby. Farewell, Douglas.                     Enough —for vaunting misbecomes a soldier.
Show thou believ'st her faithful, and she'll prove I live, I am return'd-am  near Elwina!   [her;
so.                            [Exit. Seest thou those turrets?.  Yes, that castle holds
Dou. Northumberland is dead-that thought is But wherefore tell thee this  for thou hast seen her.
peace!                               How look'd, what said she? Did she hear the tale
Her heart may yet be mine, transporting hope!  Of my imagin'd death without emotion?.
Percy was gentle, even a foe avows it,           Sir H. Percy, thou hast seen the musk-rose,
And I'll be milder than a summer's breeze.              newly blown,
Yes, thou most lovely, most ador'd of women,    Disclose its bashful beauties to the sun,
I'll copy every virtue, every grace,           Till an unfriendly, chilling storm descended,
Of my bless'd rival, happier even in death     Crush'd all its blushing glories in their prime,
To be thus lov'd, than living to be scorn'd. [Exit. Bow'd its fair head, and. blasted all its sweetness;
ACT III.'          So droop'd the maid beneath the cruel weight
Of my sad tale.
SCENE I.-A  Garden at Raby Castle, with a    Per. So tender and so true!
Bower.                        Sir H. I left her fainting in her father's arms,
Enter PERCY and SIR HUBERT.            The dying flower yet hanging on the tree.
Even Raby melted at the news I brought,
Sir H. That Percy lives, and is return'd in  And envy'd thee thy glory.
safety,                                 Per. Then I am bless'd!
More joys. my soul than all the mighty conquests His hate subdu'd, I've nothing more to fear.
That sun beheld, which rose on Syria's ruin.     Sir H. My embassy dispatch'd, I left the castle,
Per. I've told thee, good Sir Hubert, by what Nor spoke to any of Lord Raby's household,
wonder.                             For fear the king should chide the tardiness
I was preserv'd, though number'd with the slain.  Of my return. My joy to find you living
Sir H.'Twas strange, indeed!               You have already heard.
Per.'Twas Heaven's immediate work!           Per. But where is Harcourt?
But let me now indulge a dearer joy,           Ere this he should have seen her, told her all,
Talk of a richer gift of Mercy's hand;         How I surviv'd, return'd-and how I love!
A gift so precious to my doting heart,         I tremble at the near approach of bliss,
That-life preserv'd is but a second blessing.  And scarcely can sustain the joy which waits me.
O Hubert, let my soul indulge its softness!      Sir H. Grant, Heaven, the fair one prove but
The hour, the spot, is sacred to Elwina.                half so true!
This was her fav'rite walk; I well remember,     Per. 0 she is truth itself!
(For who forgets that loves as I have lov'd'?)   Sir H  She may be chang'd,'Twas in that very bower she gave this scarf,  Spite of her tears, her fainting, and alarms.
Wrought by the hand of love! Ahe bound it on,  I know the sex, know them as nature made'em
And, smiling, cried, Whate'er befall us, Percy,   Not such as lovers wish, and poets feign.




524                                  P PERCY.                                 [acT In.
Per. To doubt her virtue were suspecting Hea- He will forget the fatal Cheviot chace;'Twere little less than infidelity!   [en, Raby is brave, and I have serv'd my country:
And yet I tremble. Why does terror shake    I would not boast, it was for thee I conquer';
These firm-strung nerves. But'twill be ever thus, Then come, my love.
When fate prepares us more than mortal bliss,  Elw. 0 never, never, never!
And gives us only human strength to bear it.   Per. Am I awake? Is that Elwina's voice?
Sir H. What beam of brightness breaks through    Elw. Percy, thou most ador'd, and most deyonder gloom  [comes If ever fortitude sustain'd thy soul,               [ceiv'd'
Per. Hubert-she comes! by all my hopes, she When vulgar minds have sunk beneath the stroke,'Tis she-the blissful vision is-Elwina!    [me! Let thy imperial spirit now support thee.But ah! what mean those tears? —She weeps for If thou canst be so wondrous merciful,
0 transport!-go.-I'll listen unobserv'd,   Do not, O do not curse me!-but thou wilt,
And for a moment taste the precious joy,    Thou must-for I have done a fearful deed,
The banquet of a tear which falls for love.  A deed of wild despair, a deed of horror.
[Exit SIR YIUBERT, PERCY goes into the I am, I ambower.                                Per. Speak, say, what art thou?'i.~~~~~~~~ ~Elw. Married!
Enter ELWINA. 
Per. Oh!                             [me;
Shall I not weep? and have I then no cause?  Elw. Percy, I think I begg'd thee not to curse
If I could break the eternal bands of death,  But now I do revoke the fond petition.
And wrench the sceptre from his iron grasp;    Speak! ease thy bursting soul; reproach, upbraid,
If I could bid the yawning sepulchre        O'erwhelm me with thy wrongs-I'll bear it all.
Restore to life its long committed dust;      Per. Open, thoubEarth, and hide me from her
If 1 could teach the slaughtering hand of war        sight!
To give me back -my dear, my murder'd Percy,  Did'st thou not bid me curse thee?
Then I indeed might once more cease to weep.  Elw. Mercy! mercy!
[PERCY comes out of the bower.   Per. And -have I'scaped the Saracen's fell
Per. Then cease, for Percy lives.         Only to perish by Elwina's guilt?    [sword
Elw. Protect me, Heaven!                  I would have'bared my bosom to the foe,
Per. O joy unspeakable! My life, my love!  I would have died, had I but known you wish'd it.
End of my toils, and crown of all my cares!  Elw. Percy, I lov'd thee most when most I
Kind as consenting peace, as conquest bright,        wrong'd thee;
Dearer than arms, and lovelier than renown!    Yes, by these tears I did.
Elw. It is his voice —it is, it is my Percy!   Per. Married! just Heaven!
And dost thou live 2                        Married! to whom? Yet wherefore should 1
Per. I never liv'd till now.                       know?
Elw. And did my sighs, and did my sorrows It cannot add fresh horrors to thy crime,
reach thee 1                        Or my destruction.
And art thou come at last to dry my tears?   Elw. Oh!'twill add to both.
How did'st thou'scape the fury of the foe?  How shall I tell 1 Prepare for something dreadful.
Per. Thy guardian genius hover'd o'er the field, Hast thou not heard of-Douglas?
And turn'd the hostile spear from Percy's breast,   Per. Why,'tis well!
Lest thy fair image should be wounded there.    Thou awful Power, why waste thy wrath on me?
But Harcourt should have told thee all my fate,  Why arm omnipotence to crush a worm?
How I surviv'd                              I could have fallen without this waste of ruin.
Elw. Alas! I have not seen him.           Married to Douglas! By my wrongs, I like it 
Oh! I have suffer'd much.'Tis perfidy complete,'tis finish'd falsehood,
Per. Of that no more;'Tis adding fresh perdition to the sin,
For every minute of our future lives        And filling up the measure of offence!
Shall be, so bless'd, that we will learn to wonder,  Elw. Oh!'twas my father's deed! he made his
How we could ever think we were unhappy.             child
El.w. Percy-I cannot speak.               An instrument of vengeance on thy head.
Per. Those tears how eloquent!            He wept and threaten'd, sooth'd me, and comI would not change this motionless, mute joy,       manded.
For the sweet strains of angels: I look down  Per. And you complied, most duteously com-:With pity on the rest of human kind,                plied!
However great may be their fame of happiness,    Elw. I could withstand his fury; but his tears,
And think their niggard fate has given them  Ah, they undid me! Percy dost thou know
nothing,                            The cruel tyranny of tenderness?
Not giving thee; or, granting some small blessing, Hast thou e'er felt a father's warm embrace?
Denies them my capacity to feel it.         Hlast thou e'er seen a father's flowing tears,
Elw. Alas! what mean you?                And known that thou could'st wipe those tears
Per. Can I speak my meaning?         [it;         awayv'Tis of such magnitude that words would wrong If thou hast felt, and hast resisted these,
But surely my Elwina's faithful bosom        Then thou may'st curse my weakness; but if not,
S ould beat in kind responses of delight,    Thou canst not pity, for thou canst not judge.
And feel, but never question, what I mean.     Per. Let me not hear the music of thy voice,
Elw. Hold, hold, my heart, thou hast much Or I shall love thee still; I shall forget
more to suffer!                    Thy fattal marriage and my savage wrongs.
Per. Let the slow form, and tedious ceremony,   Elw. Dost thou not hate-me, Percy?
Wait on the splendid victims of ambition.      Per. Hate thee  Yes,
Love stays for none ofthese. Thy father's soften'd, As dying martyrs hate the righteous cause




SCENE.]                             PERCY.                                       52$
Of that bless'd plower for whoml they bleed-1   DOUGLAS at the side with his sword drawn
hate thee..                                       EDRIC holds him.
[ They look at each other with silent agony.   Dou. Give me way.
Enter HARCOURT.                  Edr. Thou shalt not enter.        [no hell,
Dou. [Struggling with EDRIC.] If there were
Har. Forgive, my lord, your faithful knight-  It would defraud my vengeance of its edge,
Per. Come, Harcourt,                       And she should live.
Come, and behold the wretch who once was Percy.    [Breaksfrom EDRIC and comesforward,
Har. With grief I've learn'd the whole un- Cursed chance! he is not here.
happy tale.                           Elw. [Going.] I dare not meet his fury.
Earl Douglas, whose suspicion never sleeps-    Dou. See she flies
Per. What, is the tyrant jealous?         With every mark of guilt.-Go, search the bower,
Elw. Hear him, Percy.,                                                [Aside to EDRIC.
Per. I will command my rage-Go on.        He shall not thus escape. Madam, return. [Aloud.
Har. Earl Douglas                         Now, honest Douglas, learn of her to feign; [Aside.
Knew, by my arms and my accoutrements,      Alone, Elwina. who had just parted hence?
That I belong'd to you; he questioned much,                     [With a fected composure.
And much he menac'd me, but both alike        Elw. My lord,'twas Harcourt; sure you must
In vain; he then arrested and confin'd me.  [it.     have met him.                 [else!
Per. Arrestmyknight! TheScotshallanswer   Dou. O exquisite dissembler! [Aside.] No one
Elw. How came you now releas'd.      Elw. My lord!
Har. Your noble father                       Dou. How I enjoy her criminal confusion!
Obtain'd my freedom, having learn'd from Hubert                                  [Aside.
The news of Percy's death. The good old lord, You tremble, Madam.
Hearing the king's return, has left the castle  Elw. Wherefore should I tremble?
To do him homage.                           By your permission Harcourt was admitted;
[TO PERCY.] Sir, you had best retire;'Twas no mysterious, secret introduction.
Your safety is endanger'd by your stay.        Dou. And yet you seem alarm'd.-If Harcourt's
I fear should Douglas know —                         presence
Per. Should Douglas know!                 Thus agitates. each nerve, makes every pulse
Why what new magic's in the name of Douglas? Thus wildly throb, and the warm tides of blood
That it should strike Northumberland with fear? Mount in quick rushing tumults to your cheek;
Go, seek the haughty Scot, and tell him-no-   If friendship can excite such strong emotions,
Conduct me to his presence.                  What tremors had a lover's presence caus'd?2
Elw. Percy, hold;                           Elw. Ungenerous man!
Think not'tis Douglas-'tis-                   Dou. I feast upon her terrors.    [Aside
Per. I know it well-                      The story of his death was well contriv'd; [ To her.
Thou mean'st to tell me'tis Elwina's husband;   But it affects not me; I have a wife,
But that inflames me to superior madness.    Compar'd with whom cold Dian was unchaste.
This happy husband, this triumphant Douglas,                            [ Takes her hand.
Shall not insult my misery with his bliss.  But mark me well —though it concerns not youI'll blast the golden promise of his joys.  If there's a sin more deeply black than others4,
Conduct me to him-nay, I will have way-     Distinguish'd from the list of common crimes,
Come, let us seek this husband.             A legion in itself, and doubly dear
Elw. Percy, hear me.                      To the dark prince of hell, it is-hypocrisy.
When I was robb'd of all my peace of mind,                [ Throws herfrom him, and exiS.
My cruel fortune left me still one blessing,  Elw. Yes, I will bear this fearful indignation!
One solitary blessing, to console me;       Thou melting heart, be firm as adamant;
It was my fame. —'Tis a rich jewel, Percy,  Ye shatter'd nerves, be strung with manly force
And I must keep it spotless, and unsoil'd:  That I may conquer all my sex's weakness,
But thou1wouldstplunderwhate'en Douglasspar'd, Nor let this bleeding bosom lodge one.thought,
And rob this single gem of all its brightness.  Cherish one wish, or harbour one desire,
Per. Go-thou wast born to rule the fate of That angels may not hear, and Douglas know
Thou art my conqueror still.        [Percy.                                       [Ext
Elw. What noise is that?
[HARCOURT goes to the side of the stage.
Per. Why art thou thus alarm'd?                     SCENE I. —The Hall.
Elw. Alas! I feel
The cowardice and terrors of the wicked,    Enter Dou;l Ab. his sword drawn and bloody
Without their sense of guilt.                 one hand, in the other a letter. HARCOUR?.
Har. My lord,'tis Douglas.                 wounded.
Elw. Fly, Percy, and for ever!              Dou. Traitor, no more! this letter shows thy
Per. Fly from Douglas?                           office.
Elw. Then stay, barbarian, and at once destroy  Twice hast thou robb'd me of my dear revenge.
My life and fame.                           1 took thee for thy leader.-Thy base blood
Per. That thought is death. I go:         Would stain the noble temper of my sword;
My honour to thy dearer honour yields.      But as the pander to thy master's lust,
Elw. Yet, yet thou art not gone!         Thou justly fall'st by a wrong'd husband's hand.
Per. Farewell, farewell!     [Exit PERCY.   Har. Thy wife is innocent.
Elw. I dare not meet the searching eye of   Dou. Take him away.
Douglas.                              Har. Percy, revenge my fall!
I must conceal my terrors.                  I                 [Guards bear HARCOURaT *.




b26                                  P E R CY.                                L[AoTr I.
Dou. Now for the letter!                    Bir. Be calm;
He begs once more to see her.-So'tis plain  Douglas this very moment left the castle,
They have already met!-but to the rest-     With seeming peace.
[Reads.] "In vain you wish me to restore the   ElK. Ah, then, indeed there's danger!
scarf;                              Birtha, whene'er Suspicion feigns to sleep,
Dear pledge of love, while I have life I'll wear it,'Tis but to make its careless prey secure.  [thee,'Tis next my heart; no power shall forceit thence;   Bir. Should Percy once again entreat to see
Whene'er you see it in another's hand,'Twere best admit him; from thy lips alone
Conclude me dead."-My curses on them both!  He will submit to hear his final doom
How tamely I peruse my shame!- but thus,    Of everlasting exile.
Thus let me tear the guilty characters         Elw. Birtha, no;
Which register my infamy; and thus,          If honour would allow the wife of Douglas
Thus would I scatter to the winds of heaven  To meet his rival, yet I durst not do it.
The vile-complotters of my foul dishonour.   Percy! too much this rebel heart is thine:
[Tears the letter in the utmost agitation. Too deeply should I feel each pang I gave;
I cannot hate-but I will banish-thee.
Enter EDRIC.
Inexorable duty, 0 forgive,
Edr. My lord-                             If 1 can do no more!
Dou. [In the utmost fury, not seeing EDRIc.]   Bir. If he remains,
The scarf!                          As I suspect, within the castle walls,
Edr. Lord Douglas.'Twere best I sought him out.
Dou.: [Still not hearing him.] Yes, the scarf!   Elw. Then tell him, Birtha,
Percy, I thank thee for the glorious thought!    But, Oh! with gentleness, with mercy, tell him,
I'll cherish it;'twill sweeten all my pangs,  That we must never, never meet again.
And add a higher relish to revenge!          The purport of my tale must be severe,
Edr. My lord!                             But let thy tenderness embalm the wound
Dou. How! Edric here?                     My virtue gives.  0 soften his despair;
Edr. What new distress I.         [shame, But say-we meet no more.
Dou. Dost thou expect I should recount my                 Enter PERCY.
Dwell on each circumstance of my disgrace,
And swell my infamy into a tale?            Rash man, he's here!
Rage will not let me-But-my wife is false.          [She attempts to go, he seizes her hand.
Edr. Art though convinc'd I                  Per. I will be heard; nay, fly not; I will speak;
Dou. The chronicles of hell               Lost as I am, I will not be denied
Cannot produce a falser.-But what news       The mournful consolation to complain.
Of her cursed paramour?                      Elw. Percy, I charge thee, leave me.
Edr. He has escap'd.                        Per. Tyrant, no:
Dou. Hast thou examin'd every avenue?    I blush at my obedience, blush to think
Each spot? the grove? the bower, her favourite I left thee here alone, to brave the danger
Edr. I've search'd them all.     [haunt?  I now return to share.
Dou. He shall be yet pursued.               Elw. That danger's past
Set guards at every gate.-Let none depart    Douglas was soon appeas'd; he nothing knows.
Or gain admittance here, without my knowledge. Then leave me, I conjure thee, nor again
Edr. What can their purpose be?          Endanger my repose. Yet, ere thou goest,
Dou. Is it not clear?                    Restore the scarf.
Harcourt has raised his arm against my life;   Per. Unkind Elwina, never!
He fail'd; the blow is now reserv'd for Percy;'Tis all that's left me of my buried joys,
Then, with his sword fresh reeking from my heart, All which reminds me that I once was happy.
He'll revel with that wanton o'er my tomb;  My letter told thee I would ne'er restore it.
Nor will he bring her aught she'll hold so dear,  Elw. Letter! what letter?!
Asthecurs'dhand with whichheslewherhusband.   Per. That I sent by Harcourt.
But he shall die! I'll drownmy rage in blood,  Elwe. Which I ne'er receiv'd. Douglas per-.
Which! I will offer as a rich libation      Who knows:  hapsOn thy infernal altar, black revenge! [Exeunt.   Bir. Harcourt, t' elude his watchfulness,
SCENE II.-The Garden.              Might prudently retire.
ElsW. Grant Heaven it prove so!: Enter ELWINA.                             wINWINA going, PERCY holds her.
Elw. Each avenue is so beset with guards,   Per. Hear me, Elwina; the most savage honour
And lynx-ey'd Jealousy so broad awake,      Forbids not that poor grace.
Ie  cannot pass unseen. Protect him, Heaven!    Elw. It bids me fly thee.         [part,
Per. Then, ere thou goest, if we indeed must
Enter BIRTHA.                 To sooth the horrors of eternal exile,
My Birtha, is he safe? has he escap'd?  [to him, Say but-thou pity'st me!
Bir. I know not. I despatch'd young Harcourt   Elw. [Weeps.] 0 Percy-pity thee!
To bid him quit the castle, as you order'd,  Imperious honour;-Surely I may pity him.
Restore the scarf, and never; see you more.  Yet, wherefore pity? no, I envy thee:
But how the hard injunction was receiv'd,   For thou hast still the liberty to weep,
Or what has' happen'd since, I'm yet to learn.    In thee'twill be no crime; thy tears are guiltless,
Elw. 0 when shall I be eas'd of all my cares,  For they infringe no duty, stain no honour,
And in the quiet bosom of the grave         And blot no vow; but mine are criminal,
Lay down this weary head!-I'm sick at heart!  Are drops of shame which wash the oheek of guilt,
Should Douglas intercept his flight!       And every tear I shed dishonours Douglas.




SCENE II.1                            P EAR CY.                                     527
Per. I -swear my jealouslove e'en grudges thee: Bir. May Heaven restore that peace thy boson
Thy sad pre-eminence in wretchedness.                 wants!                [Exit BIRTHA
Elw. Rouse, rouse, my slumb'ring virtue!   Elw. [Kneels.] Look down, thou awful, heart
Percy hear me.               [thine,         inspecting Judge,
Heaven, when it gives such high-wrought souls as Look down with mercy on thy erring creature,
Still gives as great occasions to exert them.  And teach my soul the lowliness it needs!
If thou wast form'd so noble, great, and gen'rous, And if some sad remains of human weakness'Twas to surmount the passions which enslave   Should sometimes mingle with my best resolves,
Thecgross of human-kind.-Then think, 0 think, 0 breathe thy spirit on this wayward heart,
She, whom thou once didst love, is now another's. And teach me to repent th' intruding sin
Per. Go on-and tell me that that other's In it's first birth of thought!
Douglas.                      [me:  [Noise within.] What noise is that?
Elw. Whate'er his name, he claims respect from  The clash of swords! should Douglas be return'd I
His honour's in my keeping, and I hold            Enter DOUGLAs and PERcYfighting.
The trust so pure, its sanctity is hurt
E'en by thy presence.                          Dou. Yield, villain, yield.
Per. Thou again hast conquer'd.               Per. Not till this good right arm
Celestial virtue, like the angel spirit,      Shall fail its master.
Whose flaming sword defended Paradise,          Dou. This to thy heart, then.
Stands guard on every charm.-Elwina, yes,       Per. Defend thy own.
To triumph over Douglas, we'll be virtuous.          [ They fight; PERCY disarms DOUGLAS.
Elw.'Tisnotenoughtobe,-wemustappearso:   Dou. Confusion, death, and hell!
Great souls disdain the shadow of offence,     Edr. [Without.] This way I heard the noise.
Nor must their whiteness wear the stain of guilt.
Per. I shall retract —-I dare not gaze upon thee;
My feeble virtue staggers, and again
The fiends of jealousy torment and haunt me.   Per. Cursed treachery!
They tear my heart-strings. -Oh!             But dearly will I sell my life.
Elw. No more;                                Dou. Seize on him.
But spare my injur'd honour the affront        Per. I'm taken in the toils.
To vindicate itself.                              [PERCY is surrounded by Guards, who take
Per. But, love!                                    his sword.
Elw. But, glory!                             Dou. In the cursed snare
Per. Enough! a ray of thy sublimer spirit  Thou laidst for me, traitor, thyself art caught.
LHas warm'd my dying honour to a flame!        Elw. He never sought thy life.
One effort and'tis done.  The world shall say,    Dou. Adulteress, peace!
When they shall speak of my disastrous love,    The villain HIarcourt too-but he's at rest.
Percy deserv'd Elwina though he lost her.      Per. Douglas, I'm in thy power; but do not
Fond tears, blind me not yet! a little longer,        triumph,                        [me.
Let my sad eyes a little longer gaze,        Percy's betrayv'd, not conquer'd. Come, despatch
And leave their last beams here.               Elw. r To DOUGLAS.] 0 do not, do not kill him!
Elw. [Turnsfrom him.] I do not weep.          Per. Madam, forbear;
Per. Not weep? then why those eyes avoiding For by the glorious shades of my great fathers,
mine?  [cents? Their godlike spirit is not so extinct,
And why that broken voice. those trembling ac- That I should owe my life to that vile Scot.
That sigh which rends my soul?               Though dangers close me round on every side,
Elw. No more, no more.              [once; And death besets me, I am Percy still.
Per. That pang decides it. Come-I'll die at   Dou. Sorceress, I'll disappointthee-he shalldie,
Thou Power supreme! take all the length of days, Thy minion shall expire before thy face,
And all the blessings kept in store for me,  That I may feast my hatred with your pangs,
And add to her account.-Yet turn once more,   And make his dying groans, and thy fond tears,
One little look, one last, short glimpse of day,    A banquet for my vengeance.
And then a long dark night.-Hold, hold my heart,   Elw. Savage tyrant!
O break not yet, while I behold her sweetness;   I would have fallen a silent sacrifice,  [thee.
For after this dear, mournful, tender moment,    So thou had'st spar'd my fame-I never wrong'd
I shall have nothing more to do with life.     Per. She knew not of my coming;-I alone
Elw.. I do conjure thee, go.              Have been to blame- Spite of her interdiction,
Per.'Tis terrible to nature!             I hither came. She's pure as spotless saints.
With pangs like these the soul and body part!  Elw. I will not be excus'd by Percy's crime;
And thus, but oh, with far less agony,       So white my innocence, it does not ask
The poor departing wretch still grasps at being,  The shade of others' faults to set it off;
Thus clings to life, thus dreads the dark unknown, Nor shall he need to sully hisfair fame
Thus struggles to the last to keep his hold;  To throw a brighter lustre round my'virtue.
And when the dire convulsive groan of death    Dou. Yet he can only die-but death fr honour I
Dislodges the sad spirit-thus it stays,      Ye powers of hell, who take malignant joy
And fondly hovers o'er the form it lov'd.    In human bloodshed, give me some dire means,
Once and no more-farewell, farewell!        Wild as my hate, and desperate as my wrongs.
Elw. For ever!                                Per. Enough of words. Thou know'st I hate
[ They look at each otherfor some time, then     thee, Douglas;
exit PERCY   After a pause;'Tis steadfast, fix'd, hereditary hate,
S"'is past-the conflict's past! retire, my Birtha, As thine for me; our fathers did bequeath tt
I would address me to the throne of grace.   As part of our unalienable birthright,




528                                  PERCY.                                    [ACT V.
Which nought but death can end.-Come, end it Yet I've the deepest, deadliest cause of hate,
here.                               I am but Percy, thou'rt-Elwina's husband.
Elw. [Kneels.] Hold, Douglas, hold!-not for                                   [Exeunt.
myself I kneel,
[ do not plead for Percy, but for thee:                       ACT V.
Arm not thy hand against thy future peace,        SCENE I.-ELWINA'S Apartment.
Spare thy brave breast the tortures of remorse,-    Elw. Thou who in judgment still remember's
Stain not a life of unpolluted honour,               mercy,
For, oh! as surely as thou strik'st at Percy,  Look down upon my  woes
Thou wilt for ever stab the fame of Douglas.  Preserve my husband  Ah, I dare not ask it;
Per. Finish the bloody work.              Preserve my husband! Ah, I dare not ask it;
Pe. Finishe tahe tblooy work.             My very prayers may pull down ruin on me!
Dou. Then take thy wish.                  If Douglas should survive, what then becomes
Per. Why dost thou start?'              Of-him —I dare not name? And if he conquers,
[PERCY bares h bosom. DOUGLA advances've slain my husband. Agonizing state!
to stab him, and discovers the scarf.
D ou Her stab him, and dis bcovers the scarf    When I can neither hope, nor think, nor pray,
DoT. Her scarf upon his breast!   n       But guilt involves me. Sure to know the worst
The blasting sight converts me into stone;  Cannot exceed the torture of suspense,
Withers my powers like cowardice or age,    When each event is big with equal horror.
Curdles the blood within my shiv'ring veins,                                 [Looks ou.
And palsies my bol~d arm.'     What, no one yet? This solitude is dreadful!
Per. [Ironically to the Knights.] Hear you, his My horrors multiply!
friends!
Bear witness to the glorious, great exploit,               Enter BIRTHA.
Record it in the annals of his race,        Thou messenger of wo!
That Douglas, the renown'd-the valiant Douglas,   Bir. Of wo, indeed!
Fenc'd round with guards, and safe in his own   Elw. How, is my husband dead?
castle,                             Oh, speak 
Surpris'd a knight unarm'd, and bravely slew him.   Bir. Your husband lives.
Dou. [ Throwing away his dagger.]'Tis true   Elw. Then farewell. Percy!
-I am the very stain of knighthood.    He was the tenderest, truest!-Bless him,Heaven,
How is my glory dimm'd!                    With crowns of glory and immortal joys!
Elw. It blazes brighter!                    Bir. Still are you wrong; the combat is not over.
Douglas was only brave-he now is generous!   Stay, flowing tears, and give me leave to speak.
Per. This action has restor'd thee to thy rank,   Elw. Thou sayest that Percy and my husband
And makes thee worthy to contend with Percy.  Then why this sorrow?               [live;
Dou. Thy joy will be,as short as'tis insulting.   Bir. What a task is mine!
[To EI,WINA.   Elw. Thoutalk'st as if I were a child in grief,
And thou, imperious boy, restrain thy boasting.  And scarce acquainted with calamity.
Thou hast sav'd my honour, not remov'd my hate, Speak out, unfold thy tale, whate'er it be,
For my soul loathes thee for the obligation.  For I am so familiar with affliction,
Give him his sword.                         It cannot come in any shape will shock me.
Per. Now thou'rt a noble foe,               Bir. How shall I speak? Thy husbandAnd in the field of honour I will meet thee,  Elw. What of Douglas?
As knight encount'ring knight.                Bir. When all was ready for the fatal combat,
Elw. Stay, Percy, stay,                   He call'd his chosen knights, then drew his sword,
Strike at the wretched cause of all, strike here,   And on it made them swear a solemn oath
Here sheathe thy thirsty sword, but spare my Confirm'd by every rite religion bids,
husband.                       [me, That they would see perform'd his last request,
Dou. Turn, Madam, and address those vows to Be it whate'er it would. Alas! they swore.
To spare the precious life of him you love.   Elw. What did the dreadful preparation mean?
Even now you triumph in the death of Douglas;    Bir. Then to their hands he gave a poison'd cup,
Now your loose fancy kindles at the thought,  Compounded of the deadliest herbs and drugs;
And, wildly rioting in lawless hope,        Take this, said he, it is a husband's legacy;
Indulges the adultery of the mind.          Percy may conquer-and-I have a wife!
But I'll defeat that wish.-Guards, bear her in.   If Douglas falls, Elwina must not live.
Nay, do not struggle.       [She is borne in.   Elw. Spirit of Herod! Why,'twas greatly
Per'. Let our deaths suffice,                     thought!
And reverence virtue in that form inshrin'd.'Twas worthy of the bosom which conceiv'd it!
Dou. Provoke my rage no farther.-I have Yet'twas too merciful to be his own.
kindled                             Yes, Douglas, yes, my husband, I'll obey thee,
The burning torch of never-dying vengeance  And bless thy genius which has.found the means
At love's expiring lamp.-But mark me, friends, To reconcile thy vengeance with my peace,
If Percy's happier genius should prevail,   The deadly means to make obedience pleasant.
Arid I should fall, give him safe conduct hence,    Bir. 0 spare, for pity spare, my bleeding heart:
Be all observance paid him.-Go, I follow thee.  Inhuman to the last! Unnatural poison!
[Aside to EDRIC.   Elwu. My gentle friend, what is there in a name I
Within I've something for thy private ear.  The means are little where the end is kind.
Per. Now shall this mutual fury be appeas'd! If it disturb thee, do not call it poison;'These eager hands shall soon be drench'd in Call it the swedet oblivion of my cares,
slaughter!                         My balm of wo, my cordial of affliction,
I-es-like two famish'd vultures snuffing blood,  The drop of mercy to my fainting soul,
A nrl panting to destroy, we'll rush to combat;    My kind dismission from a world of sorrow,




SCENE I.1                            PERCY.                                       529
My cup of brlss, my"passport to the skies.   Say but that little word, that Percy lives,
Bir. Hark! what alarm is that?            And Alps and oceans shall divide us ever,
Elw. The combat's over! [BIRTHA goes out. As far as universal space can part us.
[ELWINA stands in a,fixed attitude, her   Dou. Canst thou renounce him?
hands clasped.                        Elw. Tell me that he lives,
Now, gracious Heaven, sustain me in the trial,   And thou shalt be the ruler of my fate,
And bow my spirit to thy great decrees!      For ever hide me in a convent's gloom,
Re-enter BIRTHA.               From cheerful day-light, and the haunts of men,
Where sad austerity, and ceaseless prayer
[ELWINA looks steadfastly at her without Shall share my uncomplaining day between them.
speaking.                              Dou. 0, hypocrite! now, Vengeance, to thy
Bir. Douglas is fallen.                            office.
Elw. Bring me the poison.                  I had forgot-Percy commends him to thee,
Bir. Never.                    [approach! And by my handElw. Wherearetheknights? Isummonyou-    Elw. How-by thy hand?
Draw near, ye awful ministers of fate,         Dou. Has sent thee
Dire instruments of posthumous revenge!      This precious pledge of love..Come-I am ready; but your tardy justice                       [He gives her PERCY'S scarf:
Defrauds the injur'd dead.-Go, haste, my friend,   Elw. Then Percy's dead!       [mine!
See that the castle be securely guarded,       Dou. He is.-O great revenge, thou now art
Let every gate be barr'd-prevent his entrance.   See how convulsive sorrow rends her frame!
Bir. Whose entrance 2                      This, this is transport!-injur'd honour now
Elw. His-the murderer of my husband.       Receives its vast, its ample retribution.
Bir. He's single, we have hosts of friends.    She sheds no tears, her grief's too highly wrought;
Elw. No matter;'Tis speechless agony.-She must not faintWho knows what love and madness may attempt? She shall not'scape her portion of the pain.
But here 1 swear by all that binds the good,  No! she shall feel the fulness of distress,
Never to see him more.-Unhappy Douglas!    And wake to keen perception of her loss.
O if thy troubled spirit still is conscious    Bir. Monster! Barbarian! leave her to her
Of our past woes, look down, and hear me swear,      sorrows.
That when the legacy thy rage bequeath'd me    Elw. [In a low broken voice.] Douglas-think
Works at my heart, and conquers struggling           not I fhint, because thou.seest
Ev'n in that agony I'll still be faithful.  [nature, The pale and bloodless cheek of wan despair.
She who could never love, shall yet obey thee,    Fail me not yet, my spirits; thou cold heart,
Weep thy hard fate, and die to prove her truth.   Cherish thy freezing current one short moment,
Bir. 0 unexampled virtue! [A noise without. And bear thy mighty load a little longer.
Elw. Heard you nothing?                     Dou. Percy, I must avow it, bravely fought,By all my fears the insulting conqueror comes.   Died as a hero should;-but, as he fell,
O save me, shield me!                        (Hear it, fond wanton!) call'd upon thy name,
Enter DOUGLAS.                 And his last guilty breath sigh'd out-Elwina!
Come-give a loose to rage, and feed thy soul
Heaven and earth, my husband!                With wild complaints, and womanish u pbraidings.
Dou. Yes-                                    Elw. [In a low solemn voice.] No.
To blast thee with the sight of him thou hat'st,   The sorrow's weak that wastes itself in words,
Of him thou hast wrong'd, adultress,'tis thy  Mine is substantial anguish-deep, not loud;
husband.                    [mercy, I do not rave-Resentment's the return
Elw. [Kneels,] Bless'd be the fountain of eternal Of common souls for common injuries.   [sion;
This load of guilt is spar'd me! Douglas lives!   Light grief is proud of state, and courts compasPerhaps both live! [ ToBIRTHA.] Could I be sure But there's a dignity in cureless sorrow,
of that,                            A sullen grandeur which disdains complaint;
The poison were superfluous, joy would kill me.  Rage is for little wrongs-Despair is dumb.
Dou. Be honest now, for once, and curse thy               [Exeunt ELWINA and BIRTHA.
stars;                                Dou. Why, this is well! her sense of wo is
Curse thy detested fate which brings thee back       strong!                       [her,
A hated husband, when thy guilty soul        The sharp, keen tooth of gnawing grief devours
Revell'd in fond, imaginary joys,            Feeds on her heart, and pays me back my pangs
With my too happy rival: when thou flew'st,    Since 1 must perish,'twill be glorious ruin:
To gratify impatient, boundless passion,     I fall not singly, but, like some proud tower,
And join adulterous lust to bloody murder;  I'1l crush surrounding objects in the wreck,
Then to reverse the scene! polluted woman!    And make the devastation wide and dreadful.
Mine is the transport now, and thine the pang.
Elw. Whence sprung the false report that thou             Enter RABY.
had'st fall'n?                       Raby. 0 whither shall a wretched father turn,
Dou. To give thy guilty breast a deeper wound, Where fly for comfort?  Douglas, art thou here
To add a deadlier sting to disappointment,   I do not ask for comfort at thy hands.
I rais'd it —I contriv'd —I sent it thee.   [virtue. I'd but one little casket, where I lodged
Elw. Thou seest me bold, but bold in conscious My precious hoard of wealth, and, like an idiot,
-That my sad soul may not be stain'd with blood, 1 gave my treasure to another's keeping,
That I may spend my few short hours in peace,  Who threw away the gem, nor knew its value.
And die in holy hope of Heaven's forgiveness,    But left the plunder'd owner quite a beggar.
Relieve the terrors of my lab'ring breast,     Dou. What art thou come to see thy race dis.
Say I am clear of murder-say he lives,               honour'd?
VOL. 1... 3X       45




530                                   P E R C'(Y.                              [:CT V.
And thy bright sun of glory set in blood.    Despair had been my portion! fly, good- Birtha,
I would have spar'd thy virtues, and thy age,  Find out the suffering saint-describe my peniThe knowledge of her infamy.                         tence,
Raby.'Tis false.                  [blood. And paint my vast extravagance of fondness,
H ad she been base, this sword had drank her Tell her I love as never mortal lov'dDou. Ha! dost thou vindicate the wanton-   - Tell her I know her virtues, and adore them —.
Raby. Wanton't                            Tell her I come, but dare not seek her presence,
Thou hast defam'd a noble lady's honour-     Till she pronounce my pardon.
My spotless child-in me behold her champion:    Bir. I obey.               [Exit BIRTHA.'Ihe strength: of Hercules will nerve this arm,  Raby. *My child is innocent! ye choirs of saints,
When lifted in defence of innocence.         Catch the bless'd sounds —my child is innocent!
The daughter's virtue for the father's shield,  Dou. 0 1 willkneel, and sue for her forgiveness,
Will make old Raby still invincible.         And thou shalt help me plead the cause of love,
[ Offers to draw. And thou shalt weep-she cannot sure refuse
Dou. Forbear.                             A kneeling husband and a weeping father.
Raby. Thou dost disdain my feeble arm,     Thy venerable cheek is wet already.
And scorn my age.                              Raby. Douglas! it is the dew of grateful joy!
Dou. There will be blood enough;          My child is innocent-! I now would die,
Nor need thy wither'd veins, old lord, be drain'd, Lest fortune should grow weary of her kindness,
To swell the copious stream.                 And grudge me this short transport.
Raby. Thou wilt not kill her  Dou. Where, where is she?
Dou. Oh,'tis a day of horror!            My fobnd impatience brooks not her delay;
Enter EDRIC and BIRTHA.            Quick, let me find her, hush her anxious soul,
And sooth her troubled spirit into peace.
Edr. Where is Douglas.
I come to save him from the deadliest crime
Revenge did ever meditate.                     Bir. 0 horror, horror, horror!
Dou. What meanest thou?            [wife.   Dou. Ah! what mean'st thou?
Edr. This instant fly, and save thy guiltless   Bir. ElwinaDou. Save that perfidious-                   Dou. Speak —
Edr. That much-injur'd woman.                Bir. Her grief wrought up to frenzy,
Bi?. Unfortunate indeed, but 0 most innocent! She has, in her delirium, swallow'd poison!
Edr. In the last solemn article of death,    Raby. Frenzy and poison!
That truth-compelling state, when even bad men    Dou. Both a husband's gift;
Fear to speak falsely, Percy clear'd her fame..  But thus I do her justice.
Dou. I heard him.-'Twas the guilty fraud of As DOUGLAS goes to stab himself, enter ELW1NA
love.                                 distracted, her hairidishevelled, PERCY'S scarf
l'he scarf, the scarf! that proof of mutual passion,   in her hand.
Given but this day to ratify their crimes!     Elw. [Goes -up to DOUGLAS.] What, blood
Bir. What means my lord? This day'  That          again? We cannot kill him twice!
fatal scarf                         Soft, soft-no violence-he's dead already;Was given long since, a toy -of childish friendship; I did it-Yes-I drown'd him with my tears; —
Long ere your marriage; ere you knew Elwina.   But hide the cruel deed! I'll scratch him out
Raby.'Tis I am guilty.                    A shallow grave, and lay the green sod on it;
Dou. Ha!                                   Ay-and I'll bind the wild briar o'er the turf,
Raby. I,-I alone.                          And plant a willow there, a weeping willowConfusion, honour, pride, parental fondness,                       [She sits on the ground.
Distract my soul,-Percy was not to blame,    But look you tell not Douglas, he'll disturb him;
He was-the destin'd husband of Elwina!      He'll pluck the willow up-and plant a thorn.
He lov'd her-was belov'd-and I approv'd.     He will not let me sit upon his grave,
The tale is long.-I chang'd my purpose since,   And sing all day, and weep and pray all night.
Forbade their marriage-                       Raby. Dost thou not know me?
Dou. And confirm'd my mis'ry!               Elw. Yes —  do remember
Twice didthey meet to-day-my wife and Percy. You had a harmless lamb.
Raby. I know it.                            Raby. I had indeed!                 [mate,
Dou. Ha! thou knew'st of my dishonour?     Elw. From all the flock you chose her out a
Thou wast a witness, an approving witness,  In sooth a fair one-you did bid her love itAt least a tame one!                         But while the shepherd slept the wolf devour'd it.
Raby. Percy came,'tis true,                Raby. My heart will break. This is too much,
A constant, tender, but a guiltless lover!          too much!
Dou. I shall grow mad indeed; a guiltless lover!   Elw. [Smiling.] 0'twas a cordial draught-I
Percy, the guiltless lover of my wife?              drank it all.
Raby. He knew not she was married.          Raby. What means my child?
Dou. How   is't possible?          [cent;   Dou. The poison! Oh the poison!
Raby. Douglas,'tis true; both, both were inno- Thou dear wrong'd innocence —
He of her marriage, she of his return.   [vow'd   Elw. Off —murderer, off!
Bir. But now, when we believ'd thee dead, she Do not defile me with those crimson hands.
Never to see thy rival. Instantly,                                       [Shows the scarf'Not in a state of momentary passion,        This is his winding sheet-I'll wrap him in itBut with a martyr's dignity and' calmness,   I wrought it for my love-there —ndw I've dress'd
She bade me bring the poison                         him.
D)ou. Had'st thou done it,                How brave he looks! my father will forgive him,




SCENE r.'                             P ERC Y.                                     531
He dearly lov'd him once —but that is over.  But something tells me-O those painful struggles I
See where he comes-beware, my gallant Percy, Raise me a little-thereAh! come not here, this is the cave of death,                [She sees the body of DOUGLAs.
And there's the dark, dark palace of Revenge!  What sight is that?               [der'd
See the pale king sits on his blood-stain'd throne! A sword, and bloody?  Ah! and Douglas murHe points to me-I come, I come, I come.        Edr. Convinc'd too late of your unequall'd
[She faints, they run to her, DOUGLAS takes      virtues,                    [wrongs,
up',is sword and stabs himself.     And wrung with deep compunction for your
Dou. Thus, thus I follow thee.             By his own hand the wretched Douglas fell.
Edr. Hold thy rash hand!                    Elw. This adds another, sharper pang to death.
Dou. It is too late. No remedy but this    0 thou Eternal! take him to thy mercy,
Could medicine a disease so desperate.       Nor let this sin be on his head, or mine!
Raby. Ah, she revives!                       Raby. I have undone you all-the crime is mine!
Dou. [Raising himself.] She lives! bear, bear 0 thou poor injur'd saint, forgive thy father,
me to her!                          He kneels to his wrong'd child.
We'shall be happy yet.                         Elw. Now you are cruel,
[He struggles to get to her, but sinks down. Come near, my father, nearer-I would see you,
It will not be-                              But mists and darkness cloud my failing sight.
O for a last embrace-Alas! I faint-         0 death! suspend thy rights for one short moment,
She lives —Now death is terrible indeed-     Till I have ta'en a fhther's last embrace —
Fair spirit, I lov'd thee-O-Elwina!    [Dies.:  A father's blessing.-Once-and now'tis over.
Elw. Where have I been? The damps of Receive me to thy mercy, gracious Heaven!
death are on me.             [thus!                                    [She dies.
Raby. Look up, my child! O do not leave me   Raby. She's gone! for ever gone! cold, dead
Pity the anguish of thy aged father.                 and cold.
Hlast thou forgot me?                       Am I a father? Fathers love their childrenElw. No-you are my father;                 I murder mine! With impious pride I snatch'd
O you are kindly come to close my eyes,      The bolt:of vengeance from the hand of Heaven.
And take the kiss of death from my cold lips!    My punishment is great-but oh!'tis just.
Raby. Do we meet thus l                    My soul submissive bows. A righteous God
Elw. We soon shall meet in peace.          Has made my crime become my chastisement.
I've but a faint remembrance of the past-                                       [Exeunt




THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM:
A COMEDY,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY MRS. CROWLEY.
REMARKS.
THIs successful play first appeared at Covent Garden in 1780, and was particularly patronised by the royal
family, who frequently commanded its representation.
The Biographia Dramatica says: " To speak of it as a first-rate performance would be doing injustice to the
piece, as it possesses little originality either in plot, character, or situation; it however always gives pleasure
in the exhibition." A late editor has observed, that the mind must have been gifted with various powers that
could produce such a comedy as this, and such a poem as the Siege of Acre."
DRAMATIS PERSON.AE.
COVENT GARDEN, 1780.            DRURY LANE, 1815.
DORICOURT,................Mr. Lewis.......... Mr. Elliston.
HARDY,.....................Mr. Quick..........Mr. Dowton.
SiR GEORGE TOUCHWOOD,.......... Mr. Wroughton........... Mr. Holland.
FLUTTER...............Mr. Lee Lewis.......... Mr. Wrench.
SAVILLE,....................Mr. Aickin.......... Mr. Barnard.
VILLERS.....Mr. Whitfield.
COURTALL..........Mr. Robson....... M...r. J. Wallack.
SILVERTONGUE,..........              Mr. W. Bates........ Mr. Hughes.
CROWQUILL,.......                    Mr. Jones.
FIRST GENTLEMAN,.............Mr. Thompson.......... Mr. Miller.
SECOND GENTLEMAN,..M.......r. L'Estrange..... lfr. Wallack.
MOUNTEBANK,..............           Mr. Booth.                   Mr. Ebsworth.
FRENCH SERVANT,...........M..         r. Wewitzer.
LETITIA HARDY....................Miss Younge..........Miss Walstsiln.
MRS. RACKET,....................Mrs. Mattocks.......... Mrs. Harlowe.
LADY FRANCES TOUCHWOOD,......... Mrs. Hartley.......M...rs. Orger.
MISS OGLE,.....................Mrs. Morton..........            Miss Boyce.
KITTY WILLIS,.............Miss Stewart..........              Mrs. Scott.
LADY...Mrs. Poussin.
Masqueraders, Traders, Servants, &c
ACT  I.                                 Enter COURTALL, singing.
SCENE I.-Lincoln's-inn.                Ha, Courtall! —Bid him  keep the horses in motion, and then inquire at all the chambers round.
Entter SAVILLE,,followued by a SERVANT, at the  [Exit SERVANT.] What the devil brings you to
top of the Stage, looking round as if at a loss. this part of the town? Have any of the long robes
Sav. Lincoln's-inn!-Well, but where to find  handsome wives, sisters, or chambermaids?
him, now I am in Lincoln's-inn. Where did he    Court. Perhaps they have; but I came on a
say his master was?                             different errand: and had thy good fortune brought
Serv. He only said in Lincoln's-inn, Sir.     thee here half an hour sooner, I'd have given thee
Sav. That's pretty?-And your wisdom never such a treat! ha, ha, ha!
inquired at whose chambers?                        Sav. I'm sorry I miss'd it.  What was it?
Serv. Sir, you spoke to the servant yourself.    Court. I was informed, a few days since, that
Sav. If I was too impatient to ask questions, my cousins Fallow were come to town, and deyou ought to have taken directions, blockhead!   sired earnestly to see me at their lodgings, in
532




SCENE II.]            THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM.                                       533
Warwick-court, Holborn. Away drove I, paint-   Sav. I never saw her; but'tis Miss Hardy, the
ing them all the way as so many Hebes. They rich heiress.-The match was made )by the pacame from the farthest part of Northumberland; rents, and the courtship began on their nurses'
had never been in town, and in course were made knees; master used to crow at miss, and miss used
up of rusticity, innocence, and beauty.     to chuckle at master.
Sav. Well!                                  Court. Oh, then by this time they care no more
Court. After waiting thirty minutes, during for each other, than I do for my country cousins.
which there was a violent bustle, in bounced five   Say. I don't know that; they have never met
sallow damsels, four of them maypoles; the fifth, since thus high; and so probably have some renature, by way of variety, had bent in the _zEsop gard for each other.
style.-But they all opened at once, like hounds,   Court. Never met!  Odd!
on a fresh scent,-Oh, cousin Courtall!-How do    Sav. A whim of Mr. Hardy's; he thought his
you do, cousin Courtall? —Lord, cousin, I am  daughter's charms would make a more forcible
glad you are come! We want you to go with us impression, if her lover remained in ignorance of
to the Park, and the plays, and the opera, and them till his return from the continent.
Almack's, and all the fine places!-The devil,
thought I, my dears, may attend you, for I'm sure
I wont. -However, I heroically staid an hour   Ser. Mr. Doricourt, Sir, has been at Counselwith them, and discovered the virgins were all lor Pleadwell's, and gone about five minutes.
come to town with the hopes of leaving it wives-                                   [Exit.
their heads full of knight-baronights, fops, and ad-   Sav. Five minutes.-Zounds! I have been five
ventures.                                    minutes too late all my lifetime!-Good morSav. Well, howdid you get off?            row, Courtall.-I must pursue him.  [Going.
Court. Oh, pleaded a million engagements. —    Court. Promise to dine with me to-day; I have
However, conscience twitched me, so I break- some honest fellows.
fasted with them this morning, and afterwards-               [Going of on the opposite side.
squired them to the gardens here, as the most   Sav. Can't promise-perhaps I may. - See
private place in town; and then took a sorrowful there, there's a bevy of female Patagonians,
leave, complaining of my hard fortune, that obliged coming down upon us.
me to set off immediately for Dorsetshire.-Ha,   Court. By the Lord, then, it must be my strapha, ha!                                      ping cousins.-I dare not look behind me.-Run,
Sav. I congratulate your escape.-Courtall at man, run!         [Exeunt both on one side.
Almack's, with five awkward, country cousins!   SC E  I-An  Apartment i  D
Ha, ha, ha!-Why, your existence, as a man of                    House.
gallantry, could never have survived it.
Court. Death and fire! had they come to town.           Enter DORICOURT.
like the rustics of the last age, to see Paul's, the   Dor. [To a servant behind.] I shall be too
lions, and the waxwork-at their service; but the late for St. James'; bid him come immediately.
cousins of our days come up ladies-and, with the          FRENCHMAN a
knowledge they glean from magazines and pocketbooks, fine ladies-laugh at the bashfulness of   French. Monsieur Saville.         [Exit.
their grandmothers, and boldly demand their en-   Dor. Most fortunate!-My dear Saville, let
trees into the first circles.                the warmth of this embrace speak the pleasure of
Sav. Come, give me some news.             my heart.
Court. Oh, enough for three gazettes!-The    Sav. Well, this is some comfort, after the
ladies are going to petition for a bill, that, during scurvy reception I met with in your hall.- I
the war, every man may be allowed two wives.   prepared my mind, as I came up stairs, for a bon. Sav.'Tis impossible they should succeed; for jour, a grimace, and an adieu.
the majority of both houses know what it is to   Dor. Why so?
have one.                                      Sav. Judging of the master from the rest of the
Court. But pr'ythee, Saville, how came you to family.-What the devil is the meaning of that
town?.                                      flock of foreigners below, with their parchment
Sav. I came to meet my friend Doricourt, who, faces, and snuffy whiskers? —What! can't an
you know, is lately arrived from Rome.       Englishman stand behind your carriage, buckle
Court. Arrived! yes, faith, and has cut us all your shoe, or brush your coat?
out!-His carriage, his liveries, his dress, himself,   Dor. Stale, my dear Saville, stale-Englishare the rage of the day!-His first appearance set men make the best soldiers, citizens, artizans, and
the whole town in a ferment, and his valet is be- philosophers, in the world, but the very worst
sieged by levees of tailors, habit-makers, and other footmen. I keep French fellows and Germans,
ministers of fashion, to gratify the impatience of as the Romans kept slaves; because their own
their customers for becoming a la mode de Dori- countrymen had minds too enlarged and haughty
court.-Nay, the beautiful lady Frolic, t'other to descend with a grace to the duties of such a
night, with two sister countesses, insisted upon station.
his waistcoat for muffis; and their snowy arms   Sav. A good excuse for a bad practice.
now bear it in triumph about town, to the heart-   Dor. On my honour, experience will convince
rending affliction of all our beau garcons.  you of its truth. A Frenchman neither hears,
Sav. Indeed! Well, those little gallantries will sees, nor breathes, but as his master directs; and
soon be over-he's on the point of marriage.  his whole system of conduct is comprised in one
Court. Marriage! Doricourt on the point of short word-obedience! An Englishman reasons,
marriage!'tis the happiest tidings you could have forms opinions, cogitates, and disputes; he is the
given, next to his being hanged.-Who is the mere creature of your will: the other, a being
bride elect?                                 conscious of equal importance in the universm




534                     THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM.                                      [ACTI.
scale with yourself, and is therefore your judge, desty, and merit, is doomed to the arms of a huswhilst he wears your livery, and decides on your band who will despise -her.
actions with the freedom of a censor.             Dot. You are unjust.  Though she has not
Sayv. And this is in defence of a- custom I have inspired me with very violent passion, my honour
heard you execrate, together with all the adventi- secures her felicity.
tious manners imported by our travelled -gentry.  Sav. Come, come, Doricourt, you know very
Dor. Ay, but that was at eighteen; we are al- well, that when the honour of a husband is locumways very wise at eighteen. But consider this tenens for his heart, his wife must be as indifferpoint: we go into Italy, where the sole business ent as himself, if she is not unhappy.
of the people is to study and improve the powers    Dor. Pho! never moralize without spectacles.
of music: we yield to the fascination, and grow  But, as we are upon the tender subject, how did
enthusiasts in the charming science: -we travel.you bear T.ouchwood's carrying lady Frances?
over France, and see the. whole kingdom cornm-     av. You know I never looked up to her with
posing ornaments, and: inventing fashions: we hope; and Sir George is in every way worthy of
condescend to avail ourselves of their industry, her.
and adopt their modes: we return to England, and    Dor. A la mode Angloise, a ihilosopher, even
find the nation intent on the most important ob- in love.
jects: polity, commercei war, with all the liberal   Sav. Come, I detain you. You seem dressed
arts, employ her sons; the latent sparks glowi at all points, and of course have an engagement.
afresh within our bosoms; the sweet follies of the    Dor. To St. James'. I dine at Hardy's, and
continent imperceptibly slide away, whilst sena-  accompany them to the masquerade in the eventors, statesmen, patriots, and heroes, emerge from  ing-but breakfast with me to-morrow, and we'll
the virtfi of Italy, and the frippery of France.  talk of our old companions; for I swear to you,
Sav. I may as well give it; up-You had always Saville, the air of the continent has not effaced
the art of placing your faults in the best light; one youthful prejudice or attachment.
and I can't help loving you, faults and all: so to    Sav. With an exception to the case of ladies
start a subject which must please you- When do and servants.
you expect Miss Hardy.                          Dor. True; there I plead guilty: but I have
Dor. Oh, the hour of expectation is past-She  never yet found any man, whom I could cordially
is arrived, and I this morning had the honour of, take to my heart and call friend, who was not
an interview at Pleadwell's.  The writings were born beneath a British sky, and whose heart and
ready: and, in obedience to the will of Mr. Hardy, manners were not truly English.
we met to sign and seal.                                              [Exeunt DOR. and SAY.
Sav. Has theevent answered? Did your heart
leap or sink, when you beheld your mistress    SCENE II-An Apartent n MR. HARDY'S
Dor.'Faith, neither one nor t'other:-she's a
fine girt as far as mere flesh and blood goes.-      VILLERS seated on a Sofa, reading.
But-                                                          Enter FLUTTER.
Sav. But what 1                                Flut. Ha, Villers, have you seen Mrs. RackDor. WVhy, she's only a fine girl; complexion, ett?- Miss Hardy, I find, is out.
shape, and features —nothing more.                Vil. I have not seen her yet.  I have made a
Sav. Is not that enough?                    voyage to Lapland  since I came.  [Flinging
Dor. No —she should have spirit; fire! L air away the book.] A lady at her toilet is as difficult
enjoue! thatsomething, that nothing, which every  to be moved as a quaker. [Yawning.]  What
body feels, and which nobody can describe, in the  events have happened in the world since yesterresistless charmers of Italy and France.        day? have you heard?
Say. Thanks to the parsimony of my father,   Flut. Oh, yes; I stopped at Tattersall's, as I
that kept me from travel! I would not have lost came by, and there I found Lord James Jessamy,
my relish for true unaffected English beauty, to: Sir'William Wilding, and Mr..  But now
have been quarrelled fbr by all the belles of Ver- I think on't, you sha'n't know a syllable of the
sailles and Florence.                          matter; for I have been informed you never beDor. Pho! thou hast no taste!-English beauty!. lieve above one half of what I say.'tis insipidity: it wants the zest, it wants poign-    Vil. My dear fellow, somebody has imposed
aney, Frank! Why, I have known a French- upon you most egregiously! Half! Why, I never
woman, indebted to nature for no one thing but a believe one tenth part of what you say: that is,
pair of decent eyes, reckon in her suit as many  according to the plain and literal expression;
counts, marquisses, and petits maitres, as would  but, as I understand you, your intelligence is
satisfy three dozen of our first rate toasts. I have amusing.
known an Italian marquizina make ten conquests   GJlut. That's very hard now, very hard. I
in stepping from her carriage, and carry her slaves never related a falsity in my life, unless I stumfrom  one city to another, whose real intrinsic bled at it by mistake; and if it were otherwise
beau.ty would have yielded to half the little gri-     t dull matter-of-fact people are infinitel
settes that pace your Mall on a Sunday.        obliged to those warm  imaginations which soar
Say. And has Miss Hardy nothing of this?    into fiction to amuse you; for, positively, the comDor. If she has, she was pleased to keep it to mon events of this little, dirty world, are not
herself.  I was in the room half an hour before I worth talking about, unless you embellish them!
could catch the colour of her eyes; and every at- - Ha! here comes Mrs. Rackett: adieu to
tempt to draw her into conversation occasioned so weeds, I see! All life!
cruel an embarrassment, that I was reduced to
the necessity of news, French fleets, and Spanish          Enter MRS. RACKET.
captures, with her father.                     Enter, Madam, in all your charms! Villers has
Saw. So, Miss Hardy, with only beauty, mo- been abusing your toilet, for keeping you so long;




PCUENE III.]          T H E BEL L E'S S T R A T AGE M.                             535
but I think we are much obliged to it, and so are. picture to place in the nursery: the children have
you.                                         already got Whittington and his cat!'tis just his
Mrs. R. How so, pray!  Good morning t'ye: size, and they'll make good companions.
ooth. Here, here's a hand a-piece for you.     Mrs.. Ha, ha, ha! Well, I protest that's
[Kiss her hands.. just the way now-the nabobs and their wives
Flut. How so! Because it hath given you so outbid one at every sale, and the creatures have
many beauties.                               no more tasteMrs. R. Delightful compliment! What do you    Vil. There again! You forget this story is told;hink of that, Villers.             by Flutter, who always remembers every thing
Vil. That he and his compliments are alike-  but the circumstances and the person he talks
4howy, but wont bear examining.-So you brought about;-'twas Ingot who offered a rouleau for the
bliss Hardy to town last night'             bargain, and Sir Jeremy Jingle who made the
Airs. R. Yes, I should have brought her before, reply.
mt I had a fall from my horse, that confined me    Flut.'Egad, I believe you are right-Well, the
t week-I suppose in her heart she wished me story is as good one way as t'other, you know.,anged a dozen times an hour.               Good morning. I am going to Mrs. Crotchet's
Flut. Why'                                concert, and in my way back shall make my bow
Mrs. R. Had she not an expecting lover in  at Sir George's.                    [Going.
own all the time 2 She meets him this morning    Vil. I'll venture every figure in your tailor's bill,
at the lawyer's.-I hope she'll charm him; she's you make some blunder there.
the sweetest girl in the world.                Flut. [ Turning back.] Done! my tailor's bill
~ Til. Vanity, like murder, will out-You have has not been paid these two years; and I'll open
convinced me you think yourself more charming. my mouth with as much care as Mrs. Bridget
AIrs. R. How can that be'                 Button, who wears cork plumpers in each cheek,
Vil. No woman ever praises another; unless and-never hazards more than six words, for fear
she thinks herself superior in the very perfections of showing them.               [Exit.
-she allows.                                   Mrs. R.'Tis a good-natured, insignificant creaFlut. Nor no man ever rails at the sex, unless ture! let in every where, and cared for no where.
he is conscious he deserves their hatred.    -There's Miss Hardy returned from Lincoln'siVrs. R. Thank ye, Flutter-I'll owe ye a inn: she seems rather chagrined.
bouquet for that. I am going to visit the new    Vil. Then I leave you to your communicamarried Lady Frances Touchwood —Who knows tions.
her husband'
hFut. Every body.                               Enter LETITIA,followed by her Maid.,Mrs. R. Is there not something odd in his Adieu! I am rejoiced to see you sowell, Madam!
character?                                  but I must tear myself away.
Vil. Nothing, but that he is passionately fond   Let. Don't vanish in a moment.
of his wife; —and so petulant is his love, that he    Vil. Oh, inhuman! you are two of the most
opened the cage of a favourite bullfinch, and sent dangerous women in town-Staying here to be
it to catch butterflies, because she rewarded its cannonaded by four such eyes, is equal to a rensong with her kisses,                        contre with Paul Jones, or a midnight march to
_Mlrs. R. Intolerable monster! Such a brute  Omoa!-They'll swallow the nonsense for the
deserves —                                   sake of the compliment..      [Aside; exit.
Vil. Nay, nay, nay, nay, this is your sex now.   Let. [Gives her cloak to her Maid.] Order Du
— Give a woman but, one stroke of character, Quesne never more to come again;: he shall posioff she goes, like a ball from a racket; sees the tively dress my hair no more. [Exit Maid.]
whole man, marks him down for angel or a devil, And this odious silk, how unbecoming it is!-I
and so exhibits him to her acquaintance.-This. was bewitched to choose it.: [ Throwing herself
monster! this brute! is one of the worthiest fel- on a chair, and looking in a pocket glass; MRs.
lows upon earth; sound sense, and a liberal mind; RACKETT staring at her.] Did you ever see such
but dotes on his wife to such excess, that he quar- a fright as I am to-day?
rels with every thing she admires, and is jealous   Mrs. R. Yes, I have seen you look much worse.
of her tippet and nosegay.                     Let. How can you be so provoking' If I do not
Airs. R. Oh, less love for me, kind Cupid! I look this morning worse than ever I looked in my
can see no difference between the torment of such -life, i am naturally a fright.-You shall have it
an affection, and hatred.                    which way you will.
Flut. Oh, pardon me, inconceivable difference,,  Mrs. R. Just as you please; but pray what is
inconceivable; I see it as clearly as your bracelet. the meaning of all this'q
In the one case the husband would say, as Mr.   Let. [Rising.] Men are all dissemblers, flatSnapper said t'other day, Zounds! Madam, do terers, deceivers! Have I not heard a thousand
you suppose that my table, and my house, and times of my air, my eyes, my shape-all made for
my pictures!-Apropos, des Bottes:-there was victory! and to-day, when I bent my whole heart
the divinest Plague of Athens sold yesterday at on one poor conquest, I have proved that all those
Langford's I the dead figures so natural; you imputed charms amount to nothing; for Doricourt
would have sworn they had been alive. Lord saw them  unmoved.-A  husband of fifteen
Primrose bid five hundred-Six, said Lady Car- months could not have examined me with more
mine-A thousand, said Ingot the nabob. —Down cutting indifference.
went the hammer.-A rouleaa for your bargain,   Mr.s. R. Then do vou retain it like a wife of
said Sir Jeremy Jingle. And what answer do fifteen months, and be as indifferent as he.
you think Ingot made him'?                     Let. Ay, there's the sting! The blooming
Mrs. R. Why, took the offer.               boy, who left his image in my young heart,- is at
Flut. Sir, I would oblige you, but I buy this four and twenty improved in every grace that




536                   THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM.                                      [ACT J.
fixed him  there.  It is the same face that my    Let. And is it possible you felt no other care?
memory and my dreams constantly painted to me;   Har. And pray, of what sort may your care}z
but its graces are finished, and every beauty be, Mrs. Letitia? I begin to foresee nowthat you
heightened. How mortifying, to feel myself at the have taken a dislike to Doricourt.
same moment his slave, and an object of perfect   Let. Indeed, Sir, I have not.
indifference to him!                            HLar. Then what's all this melancholy about?
lI'rs. R. How are you certain that was the An't you a going to be married? and what's
case? Did you expect him to kneel down before more, to a sensible man? and, what's more to a
the lawyer, his clerks, and your father, to'make young girl, to a handsome man? And what's all:)ath of your beauty?                        this melancholy for, I say?
Let. No; but he should have looked as if a.Mrs. R. Why because he is handsome and
sudden ray had pierced him! he should have been  sensible, and because she's over head and ears in
breathless! speechless! for, oh! Caroline, all this love with him; all which, it seems, your forewas I!                                       knowledge had not told you a word of.
Mrs. R. I am sorry you was such a fool. Can    Let. Fy, Caroline!
you expect a man, who has courted and been    Har. Well, come, do you tell me what's the
courted by half the fine women in Europe, to feel matter then? If you don't like him, hang the
like a girl from a boarding-school?  He is the signing and sealing, he sha'n't have ye-and yet
prettiest fellow you have seen, and in course be- I can't say that neither; for you know that estate,
wilders your imagination; but he has seen a mil- that cost his father and me upwards of fourscore
lion of pretty women, child, before he saw you; thousand pounds, must go all to him if you wont
and his first feelings have been over long ago.    have him: if he wont have you, indeed,'twill be
Let. Your raillery distresses me; but I will all yours. All that's clear, engrossed upon parchtouch his heart, or never be his wife.        ment, and the poor dear man set his hand to it
Mrs. R. Absurd and romantic! if you have no whilst he was dying. —Ah! said I, foresee you'll
reason to believe his heart pre-engaged, be satis- never live to see them come together; but their
fled; if he is a man of honour, you'll have nothing first son shall be christened Jeremiah, after you,
to complain of.                               that I promise you.-But come, I say, what is
Let. Nothing to complain of? Heavens!, shall the matter? Don't you like him?
I marry the man I adore with such an expectation    Let. I fear, Sir-if I must speak-I fear I was
as that?                                     less agreeable in Mr. Doricourt's eyes, than he
Mrs. R. And when you have fretted yourself appeared in mine.
pale, my dear, you'll have mended your expecta-   Har. There vou are mistaken; for I asked him,
tion greatly.                                 and he told me he liked you vastly. Don't you
Let. [Pausing.] Yet I have one hope. if there think he must have taken a fancy to her?
is any power whose peculiar care is faithful love,   Mrs. R. Why really I think so, as I was not
that power I invoke to aid me.                by.
Let. My dear Sir, I am convinced he has not;
but, if there is spirit or invention in woman, he
Har. Well, now, wasn't I right? Ay, Letty! shall.
Ay, cousin Rackett! wasn't I right?  I knew    Har. Right, girl; go to your toilet-'twould be so. He was all agog to see her before   Let. It is not my toilet that can serve me: but
he went abroad; and, if he had, he'd have thought a plan has struck me; if you will not oppose it,
no more of her face, may be, than his own.    which flatters me with brilliant success.
Mlrs. R. May be, not half so much.            Har. Oppose it! Not I, indeed! What is it?
Har. Ay, may be so-but I see into things;   Let. Why, Sir-it may seem a little paradoxiexactly as I foresaw, to-day, he fell desperately in cal; but as he does not like me enough, I want
love with the wench, he, he, he!              him to like me still less, and will at our next inLet. Indeed, Sir! how did you perceive it?  terview endeavour to heighten his indifference
Har. That's a pretty question! How do I per- into dislike.
ceive every thing   How did I foresee the fall of   Har. WVho the devil could have foreseen that?
corn, and the rise of taxes? How did I know that   Mrs. R. Heaven and earth! Letitia, are you
if we quarrelled with America, Norway deals serious?
would be dearer? How did I foretel that a war   Let. As serious as the most important business
would sink the funds? How did I forewarn par- of my life demands.
son Homily, that if he didn't some way or other   AIrs. R. Why endeavour to make him dislike
contrive to get more votes than Rubric, he'd lose you?
the lectureship? How did I-But what the   Let.. Because'tis much easier to convert a sendevil makes you so dull, Letitia? I thought to timent into its opposite, than to transform indifferhave found you popping about, as brisk as the ence into tender passion.
jacks of your harpsichord.                     Mrs. R. That may be good philosophy, but I'm
Let. Surely, Sir, it was a very serious occasion. afraid you'll find it a bad maxim.
Har. Pho, pho! girls should never be grave    Let. I have the strongest confidence in it. I
before marriage. How did you feel, cousin, be- am  inspired with unusual spirrts, and on this
forehand, ay?                                hazard willingly stake my chance for happiness.
Airs. R. Feel! why, exceeding full of cares.   I am impatient to begin my measures.    [Exit.
Har. Did you?                                 Har. Can you foresee the end of this, cousin?
Mrs. R. I could not sleep for thinking of my    Mrs. R. No, Sir; nothing less than your penecoach, my liveries, and my chairmen; the taste tration can do that, I am sure; and I can't stay
of clothes I should be presented in, distracted me now to consider it. I am going to -call on the
for a week; and whether I should be married in Ogles, and then to Lady Frances Touchwood's,
white or lilac, gave mri the most cruel anxiety.    and then to an auction, and then- I don't know




SCENE I.]              THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM.                                      537
where-but I shall be at home time enough to    Sir G. Was there evei such a provoking
witness this extraordinary interview. Good bye. wretch! [Aside.] But to be plain with you, Do[Exit. ricourt, I and my house are at your service; but
Har. Well,'tis an odd thing-I can't under- you are a damned agreeable fellow; and the wostand it-but I foresee Letty will have her way, men, I observe, always simper when you appear.
and so T sha'n't give myself the trouble to dispute For these reasons, I had rather, when Lady
it.                                   [Exit. Frances and I are together, that you should forACT I1.                    get that we are acquainted, farther than a nod, a
smile, or a how d'ye.
SCENE I.-SIR GEORGE TOUCHWOOD'S             Dor. Very well.
House.                      Sir G. It is not merely yourself, in propria
Enter DoRICOURT and SIR GEORGE TOUCuWOOnp. persona, that I object to; but, if you are intimate
here, you'll make my house still more the fashion
Dor. Married, ha, ha, ha! you, whom I heard than it is; and it is already so much so, that my
in Paris say such things of the sex, are in London  doors are of no use to me. I married Lady Frana married man.                               ces, to engross her to myself; yet, such is the
Sir G. The sex is still what it has ever been, blessed freedom of modern manners, that in spite
since la petite morale banished substantial vir- of me, her eyes, thoughts, and conversation, are
tues; and rather than have given my name to one continually divided amongst all the flirts and cox
oi your high bred, fashionable dames, I'd have combs of fashion.
crossed the line in a fire-ship, and married a Ja-   Dor. To be sure, I confess that kind of freepanese.                                      dom is carried rather too far.'Tis hard one can'
Dor. Yet you have married an English beauty; have a jewel in one's cabinet, but the whole town
yea, and a beauty born in high life.         must be gratified with its lustre.-  He sha'n't
Sir G. True; but she has a simplicity of heart preach me out of seeing his wife though. [Aside.,nd manners, that would have become the fair   Sir G. ~Well, now, that's reasonable.  When
Hebrew damsels toasted by the patriarchs.    vou take time to reflect, Doricourt, I always obDor. Ha, ha!  Why, thou art a downright, serve you decide right; and therefore I ho ematrimonial, Quixote. My life on't, she becomes             Enter GIBSON.
is mere a town lady, in six months, as though
she bad been bred to the trade.                Gib. Sir, my lady desiresSir G. Common —common —[ Contemptuous-    Sir G. I am particularly engaged.
ly.] No, Sir, Lady Frances despises high life so   Dor. Oh, Lord, that shall be no excuse in the
much from the ideas I have given her, that she'll world. [Leaping from the sofa.] Lead the way,
live in it like a salamander in fire.        John.-I'll attend your lady.
Dor. I'll send thee off to St. Evreux this night,               [Exit, following GIBSON.
drawn at full length, and coloured after nature.  Sir G. What devil possessed me to talk about
Sir G. Tell him then, to add to the ridicule, that her! Here, Doricourt! [Running after him.]
Touchwood glories in the name of husband; that Doricourt!
he has found in one Englishwoman more beauty
than Frenchmen ever saw, and more goodness Enbyter MRS. RCKET and MServa    OLE,fnt.oed
than Frenchwomen can conceive.                               by a Servant.
Dor. Well-enough of description. Introduce    Ars. R. Acquaint your lady that Mrs. Rackett
me to this phoenix; I came on purpose.      and Miss Ogle are here.        [Exit Servant.
Sir G. Introduce! —oh, ay, to be sure!-I be-    miss 0. I shall hardly know Lady Frances,
lieve' Lady Frances is engaged just now-but'tis so long since I was in Shropshire.
another time.-How  handsome the dog looks   Mrs, R. And I'll be sworn you never saw her
to-day!                              [Aside. out of Shropshire. Her father kept her locked
Dor. Another time!-but 1 have no other time. up with his caterpillars and shells; and loved her
-'Sdeath! this is the only hour I can command  beyond any thing but a blue butterfly and a pethis fortnight.                              trified frog!
Sir G. I am glad to hear it, with all my soul! Miliss 0. Ha, ha, ha!-Well,'twas a cheap
[Aside.] So then you can't dine with us to-day.  way of breeding her: you know he was very
That's very unlucky.                         poor, though a lord; and very high spirited,
Dor. Oh, yes-as to dinner-yes, I can, I though a virtuoso. In town, her pantheons,
believe, contrive to dine with you to-day.   operas, and robes de cour, would have swallowSir G. Pshaw! I didn't think on what I was ed his sea-weeds, moths, and monsters, in six
saying; I meant supper.-You can't sup with us? weeks!-Sir George, I find, thinks his wife a
Dor. Why, supper will be rather more conve- most extraordinary creature: he has taught her
nient than dinner. But you are fortunate-if you to despise every thing like fashionable life, and
had asked me any other night, I could not have boasts that example will have no effect on her.
come.                  -                       Alrs. R. T here's a great degree of impertinence
Sir G. To-night!-'Gad, now I recollect, we in all that. I'll try to make her a fine lady, to
are particularly engaged to-night. But to-morrow  humble him.
night-                                          Miss O. That's just the thing I wish.
Dor. Why, lookye, Sir George,'tis very plain
you have no inclination to let me see your wife at
all; so here I sit. [Throws himself on a sofa.]   Lady F. [ beg ten thousand pardons, my deaz
There's my hat, and here are my legs.-Now I Mrs. Rackett —Miss Ogle, I rejoice to see you
sha'n't stir till I have seen her; and I have no en- I should have come to you sooner, but I was de
gagements; I'll breakfast, dine, and sup, with you, tained in conversation by Mr. Doricourt.
every day this week.                            Mrs. R. Pray make no apology; I am quitc,
VOL.....3 Y




6538                 THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM.                                     [rACTr.
happy that we have your ladyship in town at last. I find, for married people to be always together.
-What stay do you make.                     We shall be laughed at!
Lady F. A short one! Sir George talks with    Sir G. I am astonished!-Mrs. Rackett, what
regret of the scenes we have left; and as the cere- does the dear creature mean?
mony of presentation is over, will, I believe, soon    Mrs. R. Mean, Sir George!-What she says
retuin.                                      I imagine.
M1.1iss 0. Sure he can't be so cruel. Does your   Miss 0. Why, you know, Sir, as Lady Franladyship wish to return so soon?            ces had the misfortune to be bred entirely in the
Lady F. I have not the habit of consulting my country, she cannot be supposed to be versed in
own wishes; but I think, if they decide, we shall fashionable life.
not return immediately. I have yet hardly formed    Sir G. No; Heaven forbid she should!-If
an idea of London.                           she had, Madam, she would never have been my
4irs. R. I shall quarrel with your lord and wife.
master, if he dares to think of depriving us of you  -A/irs. R. Are you serious?
so soon. How do you dispose of yourself to-day?    Sir G. Perfectly so. —  should never have had
Lady F. Sir George is going with me this the courage to have married a well-bred fine lady.
morning to the mercer's, to choose a silk; and   MIiss 0. Pray, Sir, what do you take a fine
then   -                                     lady to be, that you express such fear of her?
11r7s. R. Choose a silk for you! Ha, ha, ha!                              [Sneeringly.
Sir George chooses your laces too, I hope; your   Sir G. A being easily described, Madam, as
gloves, and your pincushions!                she is seen every where but in her own house.
Lady F. Madam!                            She sleeps at home, but she lives all over the town.
Mlrs. R. I am glad to see you blush, my dear In her mind, every sentiment gives place to the lust
Lady Frances. These are strange homespun  of conquest, and the vanity of being particular.
ways! If you do these things, pray keep them  The feelings of wife and mother are lost in the
secret.'Lord bless us! If the town should know  whirl of dissipation. If she continues virtuous,
your husband chooses your gowns!'tis by chance-and if she preserves her husband?Miss 0. You are very young, my lady, and from ruin,'tis by her dexterity at the card table!
have been brought up in solitude. The maxims -Such a woman I take to be a perfect fine lady.
you learned among wood nymphs, in Shropshire,   AIrs. R. And you I take to be a slanderous
wont pass current here, I assure you.        cynic of two and thirty.-Twenty years hence,
Mrs. R. Why, my dear creature, you look one might have forgiven such a libel! - Now,
quite frightened.-Come, you shall go with us to Sir, hear my definition of a fine lady:-she is a
an exhibition and an auction.-Afterwards, we'll creature for whom nature has done much, and
take a turn in the Park, and then drive to Ken- education more; she has taste, elegance, spirit,
sington; so we shall be at home by four to dress; understanding. In her manner she is free, in her
and in the evening I'll attend you to Lady Bril- morals nice. Her behaviour is undistinguishingliant's masquerade.                          ly polite to her husband and all mankind; —her
Lady F. I shall be very happy to be of your sentiments are for their hours of retirement. In
party, if Sir George has no engagements.     a word, a fine lady is the life of conversation, the
Airs. R. What! do you stand so low in your spirit of society, the joy of the public!-Pleasure
own opinion, that you dare not trust yourself follows wherever she appears, and the kindest
without Sir George? If you choose to play Darby wishes attend her slumbers.-Make haste, then,
and Joan, my dear, you should have staid in the my dear Lady Frances, commence fine lady,
country;-'tis an exhibition not calculated for and force your husband to acknowledge the, justLondon, I assure you.                        ness of my picture.
Miss 0. What, I suppose, my lady, you and    Lady F. I am sure'tis a delightful one. How
Sir George will be seen pacing it comfortably can you dislike it, Sir George?  You painted
round the canal, arm in arm. and then go lovingly  fashionable life in colours so disgusting, that I
into the same carriage; dine tete-a-tete, spend the thought I hated it; but, on a nearer view, it seems
evening at piquet, and so go soberly to bed at charming. 1 have hitherto lived in obscurity;'tis
eleven!-Such a snug plan may do for an attor- time that I should be a woman of the world. 1
ney and his wife; but, for Lady Frances Touch- long to begin;-my heart pants with expectawood,'tis as unsuitable as linsey-woolsey, or a tion and delight!
black bonnet at the opera..Mrs. R. Come, then, let us begin directly. I
Lady F. These are rather new doctrines to am impatient to introduce you to that society
me!-But, my dear Mrs. Rackett, you and Miss which you were born to ornament and charm.
Ogle must judge of these things better than I   Lady F. Adieu, my love!-We shall meet
can. As you observe, I am but young, and may again at dinner.                     [ Going.
have caught absurd  opinions.-Here  is Sir   Sir G. Sure, 1 am in a dream-Fanny!
George!                                        Lady F. [Returning.] Sir George.
Re-enter SIn GEORGE TOUCHWOODn.           Sir G. Will you go without me?
R Ski'rs. R. Will you go without me!-Ha, ha,
Sir G.'Sdeath, another room full!   [Aside. ha! what a pathetic address! Why, sure you
Lady F. My love I Mrs. Rackett and Miss would not always be seen side by side, like two
Ogle.                                        beans upon a stalk. Are you afraid to trust Lady
Mrs. R.'Give you joy, Sir George-We came Frances with me, Sir?.o rob vou of Lady Frances for a few hours.     Sir G. Heaven and earth! with whom can a
Sir G. A few hours.                        man trust his wife, in the present state of society?
Lady F.  Oh, yes! I am going to an exhibi- Formerly there were distinctions of character
tion, and an auction, and the Park, and Kensing- amongst ye; every class of females had its particuSol, and a thousand places!-It is quite ridiculous, lar description! grandmothers were pious, aunts




sUM" I.J               THE -BE'LLE'S.STRATAGEM.                                    539
discreet, old maids. censorious! but now, aunts, I," My dear Mrs. Bloomer.! you look like a cargrandmothers, girls, and maiden gentlewomen, nation just bursting from its pod."'
are all the same creature;-a wrinkle more or   Sir G. Wasn't'that pretty~.: And what said
less is the sole difference between ye.       her husband?
Mrs. R. That maiden. gentlewomen have lost   Flut. Her husband! why, her husbandlaughed,
their censoriousness is surely not ill your catalogue and said, a cucumber.would have been a better
of grievances.                                simile.
Sir G. Indeed it is-and.ranked amongst. the    Sir G. But there: are husbands, Sir, who
most serious grievances.-Things.went.. well, would rather have corrected, than amended. your
Madam, when the tongues of three or four. old comparison; I, for instance, should. consider' a
virgins kept all the wives and daughters of a pa- man's complimenting my wife as. an impertirish in awe. They were thedragons that guarded  nence..
the Hesperian fruit; and I wonder they havenot.: Flut.:Why, what harm can there.be in combeen obliged by.act of parliament to resume their pliments? Sure' they are not infectious; and if
function..                                they were, you, Sir George, of all people breathMrs.R.. Ha, ha, ha! and pensionedif suppose, ing,.have reason to be satisfied about your: lady's
for making strict inquiries into the lives and con- attachment? every'body talks of it: that little
-versations of their'neighbours.....      bird there,: that she killed.out of jealousy, the most
Sir- G. With all my heart, and empowered to. extroardinary instance of affection that ever was
oblige every woman to conform her conduct to given.
her real situation. You, for instance, are a wi-   Lady P. I kill a bird through jealousy! headow; your: air should be sedate, your.dress grave, vens! Mr. Flutter, how can you impute such a
your deportment matronly, and in all things an  cruelty to me?
example to. the young women growing -up about   Sir G. I could have forgiven you if.you had.
you! —Instead of. which, you are dressed for con-   Flut. Oh! what a blundering fool! N'o, noquest, think of nothing but ensnaring hearts; are, now I remember'-'twas your bird, Lady Frances
coquette, a wit, and a fine lady..      -that' s it, your bullfinch, which Sir. George, in.Mrs. R.: Bear witness to what he says!.A co-: one of the refinements of his passion, sent into
quette,. a.wit, and a fine lady! Who would' have the wide world to- seek its fortune. —He took it
expected an eulogy from such an ill-natured mor-..for a knight in disguise.
tal?-Valour to a soldier, wisdom to a judge, or   Lady F. Is it possible. Oh, Sir George, could
glory to a prince, is not more than such a charac-.I have imagined it was you who deprived me of a
ter to a woman.                              creature I was so fond of 
MAiss 0. Sir George, I see, languishes for the    Sir G. Mr. Flutter, you are one of those. busy,
charming society of a century and a half ago; idle, meddling people, who, from mere vacuity of
when a grave'squire, and a. still graver dame.- mind, are the most dangerous inmates in a family.
surrounded by a sober family, formed a stiff You have neither feelings nor opinions of your
group, in a mouldy old house, in the corner of a own; but like a glass in a tavern, bear about-those
park.. -.l...'                  i of every blockhead who gives you his -and, bel~Mrs. R. Delightful serenity! Undisturbed by' cause you mean no harm, think yourselves exany noise but the cawing of rooks, and the quar-' cused, though broken friendships, discords, and
terly rumbling of an old family coach on a state. murders, are the consequences.of yourindiscrevisit; with the happy intervention of a friendly. tions......:
call from the'parish apothecary, or a curate's   Flut. [Taking out his tablets.] Vacuity of
wife.                                        mind?-What was next? I'll write down this
Sir G. And what is the society of which you sermon:'tis the first I have.heard since my
boast3-a mere chaos, in which all distinction of grandmother's funeral..
rank is lost in a ridiculous affectation of ease. In    Miss 0. Come, Lady Frances, you see what
the same select party, you will often find the wife a cruel creature yur r loving husband can be; so
of a bishop and a sharper, of an earl and a fiddler. let us leave him.
In short,'tis one universal masquerade, all dis-   Sir G. Madam, Lady Frances shall not go.
guised in the same habits and manners.         Lady F. Shall not, Sir George?-   This is:-Enter GIBSON.:the first time such an expression-   [Weeping.
Sir G. My love! my life'!
Gib. Mr. Flutter.                  rExit.   LadyF. Don't imagine I'll be treated like a
Sir G. Here comes an illustration.  0ow  I child; denied what I wish, and then pacified
defy you to tell, from his appearance, whether with sweet words.
Flutter is A privy councellor. or a mercer, a law-   Miss O. [Apart.] The bullfinch! that's an
yer or a grocer's'prentice..  excellent subject; never let it down.
of Lady F. I see plainly you would deprive me
Enter FLUTTER.;  - i dof every pleasure, as well as of my sweet birdFlut. Oh, just which you please, Sir George; out of pure love!-Barbarous man!'so you don't make me a lord mayor. Ah, Mrs.   Sir G.'Tis well, Madam —your resentment
Rackett! —Lady Frances, your most obedient;, of that circumstance proves to me, what I did no
you look-now hang me, if that's not provoking! before suspect, that you are deficient both in ten-had your gown been of another colour, I derness and understanding.-Tremble to think
should have said the prettiest thing you ever heard: the hour approaches, in which you would give
in your life.                                worlds fobr such a proof of my love. Go, Madam,
Miss 0. Pray, give it us.                  give yourself to the public; abandon your heart
Pltlut. I was yesterday at Mrs. Bloomer's. She to dissipation, and see if, in the scenes of gayety
was dressed'all in green; no other colour to be and folly that await you,you can find a recompense
seen but that of her face and bosom. " So," says for the lost affection of a doting husband. [ Exit




540                 THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM.                                    [Acr Im.
Plut. Lord, what a fine thing it is to have the woman was not married. But I see you are a
gift of speech! I suppose Sir George practises at Daphne just come from your sheep and your
CMoachmakers'-hall,: or the Black-horse in Bond- meadows, your crook and your waterfalls. Pray
street.                                     now who is the happy Damon, to whom you
Lady F. He is really angry; I cannot go.    have vowed eternal truth and constancy?
Mrs. R. Not go! foolish creature! you are ar-   Miss 0.'Tis Lady Frances Touchwood, Mr.
rived at the moment which, sometime or other, Courtall, to whom you are speaking.
was sure to happen, and every thing depends on    Court. Lady Frances! By Heaven, that's
the use you make of it.                      Saville's old flame. [Aside.] I beg your ladyship's
Miss 0. Come, Lady Frances don't hesitate; pardon. I ought to have believed, that such
the minutes are precious.                   beauty could belong only to your name-   a
Lady F. I could find in my heart!-and yet I name I have long been enamoured of; because I
won't give up neither.-If I should in this in- knew it to be that of the finest woman in the
stance, he'11 expect it for ever.           world.        [MRS. RACKETT comesforward.
[Exit with MRS. RACKETT.   Lady F. [Apart.] My dear Mrs. Rackett, I
Miss 0. Now you act like a woman of spirit.  am so frightened! Here's a man making love to
[Exit. me, though he knows I am married.
Flut. A fair tug, by Jupiter-between duty    Mrs. R. Oh, the sooner for that, my dear;
and pleasure!-Pleasure boats, and off we go, don't mind him.-Was you at the Cassino last
lo triumphe!                         [Exit. night, Mr. Courtall?
Court. I looked in.-'Twas impossible to stay.
SCENE II.-An Auction Room: Busts,    Nobody there but antiques. You'll be at Lady
Pictures, f4c.               Brilliant's to night, doubtless.
SILVERTONGUE discovered, with Company,      Mrs. W. Yes, I go with Lady Frances.
Pu~ffiers,  C.                Lady F. Bless me! I did not know this gentleman was acquainted with Mrs. Rackett  I
1 Lady. Hey-day, Mr. Silvertongue! what, behaved so rude to him.     [ To MISs OGLE.
nobody here?                                  M7rs. R. Come, Ma'am; [Looking  at her
Sil. Oh, my lady, we shall have company  TVatch.]'tis past one. I protest, if we don't fly
enough in a trice; if your carriage is seen at my to Kensington, we sha'n't find a soul there.
door. no other will pass it, I am sure.        Lady F. Wont this gentleman go with us?
1 Lady. Familiar monster!. [Aside.] That's   Court. [Looking surprised.] To be sure; you
a beautiful Diana, Mr. Silvertongue; but, in the make me happy, Madam, beyond description.
name of wonder, how came Actaeon to be placed   Mrs. R. Oh, never mind him    he'll follow.
on the top of a house?                          [Exeunt LADY FRANCES, MRS. RACKETT,
Sil. That's a David and Bathsheba, Ma'am.       and Miss OGLE.
1 Lady. Oh, I crave their pardon!-[ remem-   Court. Lady Touchwood, with a vengeance!
ber the names, but know nothing of the story.    But'tis always so; your reserved ladies are like
ice,'egad! —no sooner begin to soften than they
Enter more Company.              melt!                           [Following.
I Gent. Was not that Lady Frances Touch-                   ACT III.
wood, coming up with Mrs. Rackett 1
2 Gent. I think so; yes, it is, faith-  Let us     SCENE I.-MR. HARDY'S.
go nearer.
go nearer.                                 I     ~Enter LETITIA and MRS. RACKETT.
Enter LADY FRANCES TOUCHWOOD, MRS.
RACKETT, and MIsS  OGLE.             Mrs. R. Come, prepare, prepare; your lover is
coming.
3 Gent. Any thing worth notice to-day?     Let. My lover! confess now that my absence
Sil. Yes, Sir, this is to be the first lot:-the at dinner was a severe mortification to him.
model of a city, in wax.                      Alrs. R. I can't absolutely swear it spoiled his
2 Gent. The model of a city. What city?    appetite; he ate as if he was hungry, and drank
Sil. That I have not been able to discover; his wine as though he liked it.
but-call it Rome, Pekin, or London,'tis still a   Let. What was the apology 1
city; you'll find in it the same jarring interests,  AIrs. R. That you were ill;-but I gave him a
the same passions, the same virtues, and the same hint that your extreme bashfulness could not supvices, whatever the name.                   port his eye.
Lady F. I'wish Sir George was here.-       Let. If I comprehend him, awkwardness and
This man follows me about, and stares at me in bashfulness are the last faults he can pardon in a
such a way, that I. am quite uneasy.        woman; so expect to see me transformed into the
[LADY FRANCES and Miss OGLE come for- veriest malkin.
ward, followed by COURTALL.             MIrs. R. You persevere then?
Aiiss 0. He has travelled, and is heir to an    Let. Certainly. I know the design is a rash
immense estate; so he is impertinent, by parent. one, and the event important; —it either makes
Court. You are very cruel, ladies. Miss Ogle Doricourt mine by all the tenderest ties of pas- -you will not let me speak to you. As to this sion, or deprives me of him for ever; and never
little scornful beauty, she has frowned me dead to be his wife will afflict me less than to be his
fifty times.                                 wife, and not be beloved.
Lady P. Sir-I am a married woman.            Mrs. R. So you wont trust to the good old
[Confused. maxim,-Marry first, and love will follow?
Court. A  married woman! a good hint.   Let. As readily as I would venture my last!Asids4'Twould be ashame if such a charming guinea, that good fortune might follow.  The




SCIENE.]               THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM.                                      541
woman, that has not touched the heart of a man,   Mrs. R. You'll allow in future for a lady's
before he leads her to the altar, has scarcely a painting, Sir. —Ha, ha, ha!
chance to charm it, when possession and security    Dor. I am astonished!
turn their powerful arms against her.-But here   Let. Well, hang it, I'll take heart. —Why,
he comes-I'll disappear for a moment.-Don't he is but a man, you know, cousin —-and I'll
spare me.                            [Exit. let him see, I wasn't born in a wood to be scared
by an owl. [Half apart; advances, and looks at
Enter DORICOURT, not seeing MRS. RACKETT.  him through her fingers.] He, he, he! [Goes up
Dor. So! [Looking at a npicture.] This is my to him, and makes a very stiJ formal courtesy;
mistress, I presume.-Mlaa foil the painter has he bows.] You have been a great traveller, Sir, I
hit her oflf.-The downcast eye-the blushing  hear. Then I wish you'd tell us about the fine
cheek-timid-apprehensive-bashful-A tear sights you saw when you went over sea.   I
and a prayer-book would have made her La Bella have read in a book, that there are some countMagdalenear —                                tries, where the men and women are all horses.
Give me a woman, in whose touching mien    -Did you see any of them?
MA mind, a soul, a polish'd art, is seers. R. Mr. Doricourt is not prepared, my
A mind, a soul, a polish'd art, is seen;
Whose motion speaks, whose poignant air can dear, for these inquiries-he is reflecting on the
~~~~~move;d~importance of the question- and will answer
Such are the darts, to wound with endless love. you-when he can.
Let. When he can! Why, he's as slow in
3_[rs. R. Is that an impromptu?
[Touching him on the shoulder with herfan. speech as aunt Margery when she's reading
Thomas Aquinas-and stands gaping like mumDot. [Starting.] Madam! -Finely caught I
chance.
fAside.]-Not absolutely-it struck me duringave a little discretion.
the desert, as a motto for your picture.
Mrs. R. Gallantly turned! —I perceive, how.   Let. Hold your tongue-Sure  I may say
ever, Miss Hardy's charms have made no violent what I please before I am married, If I can't afimpression on you. —And who can wonder?q-    terwards. —D'ye think a body does not know
how to talk to a sweetheart?-He is not the
the poor girl's defects are so obvious,     first I have had.
first I have had.
Dor. Defects!
Dor. Indeed!
Mrs. R. Merely those of education.-Her
father's indulgence ruined her.-Mauvaise honte,   Let. Oh, lud, he speaks!-Why, if you must
know-there was the curate at home. —
conceit, and ignorance. all unite in the lady you
When papa was a hunting, he used to come a
Dor. Marry! I marry such a woman' — suitoring, and make speeches to me out of books.
Dor. Marry! I marry such a. woman! --- --— Puobody knows what a mort of fine things he
Your picture, I hope, is overcharged. —I marry -Nobody knows what a mort of fine things he
mauve honte, pertness, and ignorance!  used to say to me-and call me Venis, and Jumauvaise honte, pertness, and ignorance!
Mrs. R. Thank your stars, that ugliness and bah, and Dinah.
ill temper are not added to the list. -You must   Do  And pay, fai lady, how did you answe
think her handsome.
Dor. EHalf her personal beauty would content   Let. Why, I used to say, " Look you, Mr. Cumee;-but could the MIedicean Venus be animated  rate, don't think to come over me with your flimflars, fbr a better: man than ever trod in your
for me, and endowed with a vulgar soul, I should  am  for a better. man than ever trod in your
shoes is coming over sea to marry me.".-But,
become the statue, and my heart transformed to
marble.'fags, I begin to think I was out. -Parson
Urs. R. Bless us! -We are in a hopeful way, Dobbins was the sprightfuller man of the two.
then i                                        Dor. Surely this cannot be Miss Hardy?
Dor. There must be some envy in this. I see   Let. Laws, why don't you know me?-You
saw me to-day-but I was daunted before. my
she is a coquette-[Aside.] —Ha, ha, ha! and saw me to-day-but   was daunted before my
you imagine I am persuaded of the truth of your father, and the lawyer, and all them; and did not
you character ha, ha, ha! Miss Hardy,  have been care to speak out-so, may be, you thought I
character? ha, ha, ha!  is Hardy, I have been couldn't-but I can talk as fast as any body,
assured, Madam, is elegant and accomplished when I know folks a little   And now 1 have
-but one must allow for a lady's painting.
- ut one must allow for a lady's painting  shown my parts, I hope you'll like me better.
Mrs R. I'll be even with him for that. [Aside.]
Ha, ha, ha! and so you have found me out!-                 Enter HARDY.
Well, I protest, I meant no harm;'twas only to   Har. I foresee this wont do-Mr. Doricourt
increase the eclat of her appearance, that I threw
increase the ecat of her appearance, that  threw  may be, you take my daughter for, a fool, but you
a veil over her charms.-Here comes the lady:                    
are mistaken  -she's as sensible a girl as any in
-her elegance and accomplishments will an- England.
nounce themselves.                           nDor. I am convinced she has a very uncommon
Enter LETITIA, running.          understanding, Sir- I. did not think he had
been such an ass!                   [Aside.
Let. La, cousin, do you know that our John.   Let. My father will undo the whole. [Astde.]
-Oh, dear heart!-I didn't see you, Sir.    - Laws, papa, how can you think he can take
[Hanging down her head, and dropping  me for a fool;-when every body knows, 1 beat
behind MRS. R.                        the'pothecary at conundrums, last ChristmasMrs. R. Fy, Letitia.-Mr. Doricourt thinks time?-And didn't I make a string of names, all
you a woman of elegant manners. Stand for- in riddles, for the Lady's Diary?-There was
ward and confirm his opinion.                a little river and a great house   That was NewLet. No, no; keep before me. —He's my castle. —There what a lamb says, and threo
sweetheart; and'tis impudent to look one's letters  that was ba, and k-e-r, ker, bakersweetheart in the face you know.             There was46




1542                  T Hi 1:BE — F L E'S  STRATAGEM.                           [ACT rI
Har. Don't'stand ba-a-ing there-you'll masquerade, and tell him all about it. Let me
make me mad in a moment-I tell you, Sir, see-what shall my dress be-A great mogul?
that, for all that, she's dev'lish sensible.  No-A  grenadier? No- no-that, I fobreDor. Sir, I give all possible credit to your as- see, would make a laugh.  Hang me, ifd  I don't
sertions.                                     send t my-favourite little Quick, and borrow his
Let. Laws, papa, do come'along. If you stand  Jew Isaac's dress. I know the dog likes a glass
watching, how  can my sweetheart break his of good wine; so I'll give him  a bottle of my
mind,'and: tell me how -he admires me!      forty-eight, and he shall teach me. Ay, that's: Dor. That would be'difficult, indeed, Madam. it. —l'll be cunning little Isaac. If they complain
Har. I tell you, Letty, I'll have no more of of my want of wit, I'll tell them, the cursed Duthis.-I see well enough-                      enna wears -the breeches, and has spoiled my
Let. Laws, don't snub me before my husband  parts.                                 [Exit.
that is to be.    You'll teach him; to snub
me too-and, I believe, by his looks, he'd like          SCENE 1I. —COUPT.TLL'S.
to begin now. So let us go-cousin, you may
tell te gentnow.  Soleman what  gencous have     how  Enter COURTALL, SA.VILLE, and three GENTLEtell te gentleman whath aagenus I have-nhow
I canl cut -watch-papers, and;'work catgut -   MEN, from an Apartment in the back Scene.
make quadrille'baskets  with pins, and take pro:   The last three tipsy.
files in shade-ay, as well: as'the lady at No.   Court. You:sha'n't go yet.-Another catch
62, South Moulton-street, Grosvenor-square.   and another bottle.,
[Exeunt HAR. and LET.   1 Gent. May I be a bottle, and an empty bot-Mrs. P. What thin'k you of — my painting now.? tie, if you catch me at that!-Why; I am going
Dor. Oh, mere water colours, Madam-the  to the masquerade; Jack, you-know who
lady has caricatured your picture.            I mean, is to meet me, and we are to have a leap
Mrs. R. And how does she strike you on the at the new lustre.
whole?                                         2 Gent. And T am going to-a pilgrim-[HickDor. Like a good design; spoiled by the inca- ups.]-Am not I in a pretty pickle for a pilgrim?
pacity of the artist. Her faults are evidently the  And Tony, here-he is going in the disresult of her father's weak indulgence. I ob- guise  in the disguise  of a gentleman!
served an expression in her eye, that seemed to    1 Gent. We are all very disguised   so bid
satirize the folly of her lips.               them draw up —D'ye hear?
Mrs. R.: But at her age, when education is                 [Exeunt the three GENTLEMENo
fixed, and manner' becomes nature,-hopes of im-   Say. Thy skull, Courtall, is a lady's thimble:
provement —' —no, an egg-shell.
Dor. Would be absurd.-Besides, I can't turn    Court. Nay, then you are gone too: you never
school-master. —Doricourt's wife must be capable aspire to similes, but in your cups.
of improvement-but it' must be, because she's   Sav. No, no; I am steady enough-but the
got beyond it.                                fumes of the wine pass directly through thy eggMrs. R. I am pleased your misfortune sits no  shell, and leave thy brain as cool as-Hey! I
heavier..                          - am quite sober;'my similes fail me.
- Do." -Your pardon, Madam-so mercurial vas  Court. Then we'll sit down here, and have one
the hour in which I was born'that misfortunes sober bottle.
always go plump to the bottom of my heart, like
a pebble in water, and leave the surface unruffled.            Enter DicE.
I shall certainly set off for' Bath, or the' other
world, to-night-but Whether I shall' use a chaise, Bring a bottle and glasses.  [Eit DICK.
with four swift coursers, or go off in a tangent-hough
from the aperture of a pistol,' deserves considera- theuice should be the true  alernan.
tion   soI -'make my adieus.         [Going.'Court. By the bright eyes of her you love, you
tion —;-so'lm ake Mny adieus.       [Going.
Mrs. R. Oh, but I' entreat you, postpone your
journey till: to-morrow-determine on which.    Re-enter DICE, with bottle and glasses.
you will  you must be this night' at' the masquerade'.                                       Sav. Ah! [Sitting down.] Her I loved is
Dor. Masquerade!                           gone-[Sighing.]- She's married!
Mrs. R, Why not? -If you are resolved to                                    [Exit DICK..
visit the other world, you may as well take one    Court. Then bless your stars you are not her
night's pleasure first int this, you know.    husband! I would be husband to no woman in
Dor.:Fa'ith;' that's very true -ladies are the  Europe, who was not dev'lish rich, and dev'lish
best philosophers after all. Expect me at the  ugly.
masquerade.:'   [Exit.    Sav. Wherefore ugly?
Mrs. R. He's a charming fellow.  I think    Court. Because she could not have the conLetitia sha'n't have him.            [Going. science to exact those attentions that a pretty wife
expects; or, if she should, her resentments would
Enter HARDY.
be perfectly easy to me, nobody would undertake' Har. What's he gone?''to'revenge her cause.
Mtrs. R.. Yes; and'-I'am glad he is.  You    Sav. Thou art a most licentious fellow!
would'have ruined us! Now, I beg, Mr. Hardy,    Court. I should hate my own wife, that's ceryou wont interfere in this business; it is a little: tain; but I have a warm heart for those of other
out of your way.                       [Exit.  people; and so here's to the prettiest wife in Engl'ar.t Hang me, if I dont, though-I foresee land-Lady Frances Touchwood.
very clearly what will be:the end of it, if I leave    Sav. Lady Frances Touchwood! I. rise to
von to yourselves; so I'll e'en follow him to the  drink her. [Drinks.] How the devil came Lady




SCErNEIV.]             THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM.                                      543
Frances in your head. 1 never knew you give a    Court. Do you know Lady Frances' maid.
woman of chastity before.                      Dick. I can't say as how I know she.
Court.: That's odd, for you have heard me give   Court. Do you know Sir George's valet?
half the women of fashion in England.-But,   Dick. No, Sir; but Sally is very thick with
pray now, what do you take a woman of chastity. to Mr. Gibson, Sir George's gentleman.
be?                            [Sneeringly.   Court. Then go there directly, and employ
Sav. Such a woman as lady Frances Touch- Sally to discover whether her master goes to Lady
wood, Sir.                                   Brilliant's this evening; and, if he does, the name
Court. Oh, you are grave, Sir; I remember of the shop that sold his habit.
you was an adorer of hers.-Why didn't you   Dick. Yes, Sir.
marry her?  Court. Be exact in your intelligence, and come
Say. I had not the arrogance to look so high. to me at Boodle's. [Exit DiciK.] If I cannot other- Had my fortuue been worthy of her, she wise succeed, I'll beguile her as Jove did Alcmeshould not have been ignorant of my admiration. na, in the shape of her husband. The possession
Court. Precious fellow! What, I suppose you of so fine a woman-the triumph over Saville,
would not dare tell now that you admire her?    are each a sufficient motive; and, united, they
Sav. No, nor you.                          shall be resistless.                 [Exit.
Court. By the Lord, I have told her so.
Sav. Have.? Impossible!                             SCENE III.-The  Street.
Court. Ha, ha, ha!-Is it so?                           Enter SAVILLE.
Say. How did she receive the declaration?
Court. Why, in the old way; blushed, and    Sav. The air has recovered me! what have I
frowned, and said she was married.           been doing. perhaps my petulance may be the
Sav. What amazing things thou art capable cause of her ruin, whose honour I asserted: his
of! I could more easily have taken the pope by vanity is piqued; and, where women are conthe beard, than profaned her ears with such ade- cerned, Courtall can be a villain.
claration.
Court. I shall meet her at Lady Brilliant's to-  Enter Dick; bows, and passes hastily.
night, where I shall repeat it; and I'd lay my Ha! that's his servant!-Dick!
life, under a mask, she'll hear it all without blush    Dick. [Returning.] Sir!
or frown.                                      Sav. Where are you going, Dick?.
Sav. [Rising.]'Tis false, Sir — She wont.    Dick. Going! I am going, Sir; where my nasCourt. She will! [Rising.] Nay, I'll venture ter sent me.
-to lay a round sum that I prevail on her to go out   Sayv. Well answered-but I have a particular
with me —only to taste the fresh air, 1 mean.  reason for my inquiry, and you must tell me.
Sav. Preposterous vanity! From this moment   Dick. Why then, Sir, I am going to call upon a
I suspect that half the victories you have boasted cousin of mine, that lives at Sir George Touchare as- false and slanderous as your pretended in- wood's.
fluence with Lady Frances.                     Sav. Very well.-There, [Gives hint money.]
Court. Pretended! —How should such a fellow  you must make your cousin drink my health.as you now, who never soared beyond a cherry- What are you going about?
cheeked daughter of a ploughman in Norfolk,   Dick. Why, Sir, I believe'tis no harm, or
judge of the influence of a man of my figure and elseways I am sure I would not blab-I am only
habits? I could show thee a list, in which there going to ax if Sir George goes to the masquerade
are names to shake thy faith in the whole sex; to-night, and what dress he wears?
and, to that list I have no doubt of adding the    Sav. Enough! now, Dick, if you will call at
name of lady-                                my lodgings in your way back, and acquaint me
Sav. Hold, Sir! My ears cannot bear the with your cousin's intelligence, I'll double the
profanation; —you cannot-dare not approach trifle I have given you.
her! For your soul you dare not mention love to   Dick. Bless your honour, I'll call-never fear.
her! Her look would freeze the word, whilst it                                   [Exit.
hovered on thy licentious lips.               Sav. Surely the occasion may justify the means;
Court. Whu! whu! Well, we shall see-this -'tis doubly my duty to be Lady Frances' proevening, by Jupiter, the trial shall be made. If I tector.  Courtall, I see, is planning an artful
fail —I fail.                                scheme; but Saville shall outplot him.   [Exit.
Sav. I think thou dar'st not! But my life, my
honour, on her purity.               [Exit.   SCENE IV. —SIR GEORGE TOUCHWOoD'S
Court. Hot-headed fool! But since he has                     House.
brought it to this point, by gad I'll try what can  Enter SIR GEORGE TOUCHWOOD and VILLERS.
be done with her ladyship. [l1Mising-rings.]
She's frost-work, and the prejudices of education    Vil. For shame, Sir George! you have left
yet strong; ergo, passionate professions will only  Lady Frances in tears.-How can you afflict her?
inflame her pride, and put her on her guard. For   Sir G.'Tis I that am afflicted;-. —my dream of
other arts then!                            happiness is over-Lady Frances and I are disunited.
Enter DICK.
Vil. The devill why, you have been in town
Dick, do you know any of the servants at Sir but ten days: she can have made no acquaintance
George Touchwood's                           for a commons affair yet.
Dick. Yes, Sir; I knows the groom, and one   Sir G. Pho!'tis our minds that are disunited:
of the housemaids; for the matter o'that, she's she no longer places her whole delight in-me;
my own cousin; and it was my mother that she has yielded herself up to the world!
helped her to the place.                       Vil. Yielded herself up to the world! wny didi




544'                  THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM.                                  [ACT IV.
you not bring her to town in a cage? then she fifteen days of amusement could give me without
might have taken a peep at the world!-But, af- you.
ter all, what has the world done? a twelvemonth   Sir G. My sweet creature! —ow  that consince you was the g  yest fellow in it:-if any fession charms me!-Let us begin the fashion.
body asked who dresses best — Sir George Touch-   Lady F. 0, impossible! we should not gain a
wood.-Who  is the most gallant man   Sir single proselyte; and you can't conceive what
George Touchwood.-Who is the most wedded spiteful things would be said of us.-At Kensingto amusement and dissipation?  Sir George ton to-day a lady met us, whom we saw at court
Touchwood. And now Sir George is metamor- when we were presented; she lifted up her hands
phosed into a sour censor; and talks of fashionable in amazement!   Bless me! said she to her coinlife with as much bitterness as the old crabbed  panion, here's Lady Frances, without Sir Hurbo
fellow in Rome.                              Thrumbo!-My dear Mrs. Rackett, consider
Sir G. The moment I became possessed of what an important charge you have! For Heasuch a jewel as Lady Frances, every thing wore ven's sake take her home again, or some ena different complexion; that society in which I chanter on a flying dragon will descend and carry
lived with so much eclat, became the object of my her off. -Oh. said another, I dare say Lady
terror; and I think of the manners of polite life Frances has a clue at her heel, like the peerless
as I do of the atmosphere of a pest-house.-My  Rosamond:-her tender swain would never have
wife is already infected; she was set upon this trusted her so far without such a precaution.
morning by maids, widows, and bachelors, who    Sir G. Heaven and earth!-How shall innocarried her off in triumph, in spite of my dis- cence preserve its lustre amidst manners so coppleasure.                                   rupt.
Vil. Ay, to be sure; there would have been no
triumph in the case, if you had not opposed it:-                  GIBSON.
but I have heard the whole story from  Mrs.   Gib. Your honour talked. I thought, something
Rackett; and I assure you, Lady Frances didn't about going to the masquerade?
enjoy the morning at all;-she wished for you    Sir G. Well.
fifty times.                                   Gib. Hasn't your honour?-I thought your;Sir G. Indeed! Are you sure of that?    honour had forgot to order a dress.
Vil. Perfectly sure.                        Lady F. Well considered, Gibson.-  Come,
Sir G. I wish I had known it:-my uneasiness will you be Jew, Turk, or heretic; a Chinese
at dinner was occasioned by very different ideas.  emperor, or a ballad-singer; a rake, or a watchVil. Here then she comes, to receive your apo- man?
logy; but if she is true woman, her displeasure   Sir G. Oh, neither, my love; I can't take the
will rise in proportion to your contrition; —and  trouble to support a character.
till you grow careless about her pardon she wont   Lady F. You'll wear a domino then:-I
grant it:-however, I'll leave you.-Matrimonial saw a pink domino trimmed with blue, at the shop
duets are seldom set in the style I like.   [Exit. where I bought my habit.- Would you like it?
Enter LADY FRANCES.                Sir G. Any thing, any thing.
Lady F. Then go about it directly, Gibson.
Sir G. The sweet sorrow that glitters in these -   A pink domino, trimmed with blue.-Come,
eyes I cannot bear. [Embracing ber.]  Look you have not seen my dress yet, —it is most
cheerfully, you rogue.                       beautiful: I long to have it on.  [Exreunt.
Lady F. I cannot look otherwise, if you are
pleased with me.                                              ACT IV.
Sir G. Well, Fanny, to-day you made your
entree in the fashionable world; tell me honestly
the impressions you received.                    A party dancing cotillions: variety of
Lady F. Indeed, Sir George, I was so hurried             characters, 4c.
from place to place, that I had not time to find        Enter MOUNTEBANK.
out what my impressions were.
out what my impressions were.                 Mount. Who'll buy my nostrums? who'll buy
Sir G. That's the very spirit of the life you    Mount. Who'll buy m y nostrums?  who'll buy
have chosen.                      -         my nostrums? Here's a powder for projectors-'twill rectify the fumes of an empty stomach, disLady -but every body about me seemed in a hurry to be happy sipate their airy castles, and make them dream of
-but every body seemed in a hurry to be happy  beef and pudding.
somewhere else.
Sir G. And you like this?                 Enter FOLLY, with cap and bells, on a hobbyLady F. One must like what the rest of the                   horse.
world likes.
Sir G. Pernicious maxim!                    Mask. Hey Tom  Fool, what business have
Lady F. But, my dear Sir George, you have you here?
not promised to go with me to the masquerade.  olly. What, Sir, affront a prince in his own
Sir G.'Twould be a shocking indecorum to  dominions?
he seen together, you know.                 Music. —Enter HARDY, in the dress of Isaas
Lady F. Oh, no; I asked Mrs. Rackett, and                  Mendoza.
she told me we might be seen together at the
masquerade without being laughed at.          Har. Why, isn't it a shame to see so many
Sir G. Really!                           stout, well-built, young fellows. masquerading and
Lady F. Indeed, to tell you the truth, I could cutting courantas. here at home-instead of makwish it was the fashion for married people to be ing the French cut capers to the tune of our
inseparable: for I have more heart-felt satisfac- cannon-or sweating the  Spaniards with an
tion in fifteen minutes, With you at my side, than  Englishfandango? I foresee the end of all this




SCENE I.              THE:BELLE'S STRATA GEM.                                    545
flask. Why, thou little testy Israelite! back to peror? His father retails oranges in BotolphDuke's-place, and preach your tribe into a sub- lane. That gipsy is a maid of honour, and that
scription for the good of the land on whose milk rag-man a physician.
and honey ye fatten.-Where are your Joshuas   Lady F. Why, you know every body!
and your Gideons, ay. What! all dwindled into   Flut. Oh, every creature. A mask is nothing
stock-brokers, pedlars, and rag-men?        at all to me. I can give you the history of half
Har. No, not all. Some of us turn Christians, the people here. In the next apartment there's
and by degrees grow into all the privileges of a whole family, who, to my knowledge, have lived
Englishmen! In the second generation we are on water-cresses this month, to make a figure
patriots, rebels, courtiers, and husbands.  here to-night! —but, to make up for that,
[Points to hisforehead. they'll cram their pockets with cold ducks and
2 Mask. What, my little Isaac! - How  the chickens,. for a carnival to-morrow.
devil came you here? Where's your old Mar-   Lady F. Oh, I should like to see this provident
garet.                   family.
Har. Oh, I have got rid of her.             Flut. Honour me with your arm.
2 Mask. How?                                     [Exeunt FLUTTER and LADY FRANCES.
Har. Why, I persuaded a young Irishman that   Mrs. R. Come, Sir George, you shall be my
she was a blooming, plump beauty of eighteen; beau.-We'll make the tour of the rooms, and meet
so they made an elopement, ha, ha, ha! and she them. Oh! your pardon, you must follow Lady
is now the toast of Tipperary.  Ha! there's Frances; or the wit and fine parts of Mr. Flutter
cousin Rackett and her party; they sha'n't know  may drive you out of her head. Ha, ha, ha!
me.                       [Puts on his mask.                                      [Exit.
Enter MRS. RACKETT, LADY FRANCES  TouCIS-   Sir G. I was going to follow her, and now I
wooD, SIR GEoRGE TOUCHWOOD, and FLUT- dare not. How can I be such a fool as to be goTER.                                      verned by the fear of that ridicule which I despise.
Mrs. R. Look at this dumpling Jew; he must
be a Levite by his figure.  You have surely   Music.-Enter DoRICOURT, meeting a Mask.
practised the flesh-hook a long time, friend, to
have raised that goodly presence.             Dor. Ha! my lord-'I thought you had been
have ar. About as long, moodly brisk wience.ow, as you engaged at Westminster on this important night.
Her. About as long, my brisk widow, as you   Mask. So I am —I slipped out as soon as
have been angling for a second husband; but my Lord Trope got upon his legs; I can badiner
hook has been better baited than yours. You Lord Trope got upon his legs; b  can badiner
have only caught adgeos, I see.  here an hour or two, and be back again before he
have only cau[Pointing to FLnsTTE. is down. -There's a fine figure! I'll address
[Pontin  to FLUTTE her.
Flut. Oh! this is one of the geniuses they
hire to entertain the company with their ac-               Enter LETITIA.
cidental sallies.-Let me look at your commonplace book, friend. I want a few good things.   Charity, fair lady! Charity for a poor pilgrim.
Har. I'd oblige you, with all my heart; but   Let. Charity  If you mean my prayers,
you'll spoil them in repeating-or if you should    thee wit, pilgrim.
not, they'll give you no reputation-for nobody    Mask. That blessing would do from a devotee:
will believe they are your own.             from you I ask other charities; -such charities
Sir G. He knows you, Flutter; —the little as beauty should  bestow-soft looks-sweet
gentleman fancies himself a wit, I see.     words-and kind wishes.
lHar. There's no depending on what you see   Let. Alas! I am bankrupt of these, and forced
-the eyes of the jealous are not to be trusted. to turn beggar myself. —There he is!-how shall
I catch his attention?              [Aside.
Flu-Look to your lady.
Flut. He knows you, Sir George.             Mask. Will you grant me no favour?
Sir G. What, anm I the town talk?           Let. Yes, one.-I'll make you my partnerHar. I can neither see Doricourt nor Letty. not for life, but through the soft mazes of a mi-1  must find them out.        [Aside; exit. nuet.   Dare you dance?
Airs. R. Well, Lady Frances, is not all this   Dor. Some spirit in that.
charming? Could you have conceived such a   MPIask. That, lady, is against my vow; but
brilliant assemblage of objects?            there is a man of the world.
Lady F. Delightful! The days of enchant-   Dor. Do you know her, my lord?
ment are restored; the columns glow with sap-   M1ask. No. Such a woman as that, would
phires and rubies: emperors and fairies, beauties formerly have been known in any disguise; but
and dwarfs, meet nme at every step!      - beauty is now common.-Venus seems to have
Sir G. How lively are first impressions on given her cestus to the whole sex.  [A Minet.
sensible minds! In four hours, vapidity and lan-   Dor. [During the Minuet.] She dances di
guor will take place of that exquisite sense of joy vinely  [When ended.] Somebody must know.
which flutters your little heart.           her? Let us inquire who she is.    [Exeunt.,Mrs. R. What an inhuman creature! Fate Enter SAVILLE andKITTY WuLLIS,  bited like
has not allowed us these sensations above ten              LADY FRAKWCES.
times in our lives; and would you have us shorten
them by anticipation                          Sav. I have seen Courtall in Sir George's
Flut. 0 Lord! your wise men are the greatest habit, though he endeavoured to keep himself
fools upon earth; —they reason about their en- concealed. Go, and seat yourself in the tea-room,
joyments. and analyze their pleasures, whilst the and on no account discover your face:-remember
essence escapes. Look, Lady Frances! D'ye too, Kitty, that the woman you are to persuoatie
see that figure strutting in the dress of an em- is a woman of virtue.
VOL. I.... 3 Z     46*




546                  THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM.                                   [Ar riv.
Kitty. I am afraid I shall find that a difficult I Let. Your mistress will be angry;-   ut
character; indeed I believe it is seldom kept up perhaps you have no mistress?
through a whole masquerade.                    Dor. Yes, yes, and a sweet one it is!
Sav. Of that you can be no judge.-Follow    Let. What! is she old'
my directions, and you shall be rewarded.      Dor. No.
[Exit KITTY.   Let. Ugly'
Dor. no.
Enter D ORICOURT.                Let. What then?
Dor. Ha! Seville! Did you see a lady dance   Dor. Pho! don't talk about her; but show me
just now'                                   your face.
Sav. No.                                    Let. My vanity forbids it-'twould frighten you.
Dor. Very odd. Nobody knows her;             Dor. Impossible! your shape is graceful, your
Sav. Where is Miss Hardy?                air bewitching, your bosom transparent, and your
Dor. Cutting watch-papers and making co- chin would tempt me to kiss it, if I did not see a
nundrums, I suppose.                        pouting, red lip above it, that demandsSav. What do you mean'                      Let. You grow too free.
Dor. Faith, I hardly know. She's not here,   Dor. Show me your face then-only half a
however, Mrs. Rackett tells me.-I asked no glance.
further.                                      -DorLet. Not for worlds!
Sav. Your indifference seems increased.     Dor. What  you will have a little gentle force.
Dor.'Tis advanced thirty-two degrees towards               [Attempts to seize her mask.
hatred.                                       Let. I am gone for ever'            [Exit.
Sav. You are jesting!                       Dor.'Tis false-  I'll follow to the end.
Dor. Then it must be with a very ill grace,                                     [Eit.
my dear Saville; for I never felt so seriously: do   Music; re-enter FLUTTER, LADY F. ToucHyou know the creature's almost an idiot!                WOOD, and SAVILLE.
Sav. What!
Dor. An idiot. What the devil shall I do with    Lady F. How can you be thus interested for
ner?'Egad! I think I'll feign myself mad —and, a stranger'
then Hardy will propose to cancel the engage-   Sav. Goodness will have interest; its home is
ments. Anheaven: on earth'tis but a wanderer. ImpruSav. An excellent expedient I I must leave you;. dent lady! why have you left the side of your
you are mysterious, and I can't stay to unravel protector   where is your husband.
you. I came here to watch over innocence and    F/ut. Why, what's that to hial 
beauty.                                        Lady F. Surely it can't be merely his habit;
Dor. The guardian of innocence and beauty -there's something in him that awes me.
at three and twenty! Is there not a cloven foot   Flut. Pho!'tis only his gray beard. I know
under that black gown, Saville?             him; he keeps a lottery-office in Cornhill.
Sav. No, faith. Courtall is here on a most de-   Sav. My province as an enchanter lays open
testable design. I found means to get a know- every secret to me, lady! there are dangers abroad
ledge of the ladv's dress, and have brought a girl -Beware  [Exit.
to personate her, whose reputation cannot be hurt.   Lady.'Tis very odd; his manner has made
You shall know the result to-morrow. Adieu.   me tremble. Let us seek Sir George.
[Eit.   Flulut. He's coming towards us.:Dor. [Musing.] Yes, I think that will do. I'll   Enter COURTALL, habited like SIR GEORGE
feign myself mad, fee the doctor to pronounce me            TOUCHWOOD.
incurable, and when the parchments are destroyed-                          [.lusing.. There she is  If I can but disengage
her from that fool, Flutter-crown me, ye scheEnter LETITIA.                 mers, with immortal wreaths!
Lady F. O. my dear Sir George: I rejoice to
Let. You have chosen an odd situation for meet you —-an old conjurer has been frightening
study. Fashion and taste preside in this spot. me with his prophecies.-Where's Mrs. Rackett'
They throw  their spells around you:-ten    Court. In the dancing-room. I promised to
thousand delights spring up at their command; send you to her, Mr. Flutter.
and you, a stoic-a being without senses, are   Flut. Ah! she wants me to dance. With all
wrapt in reflection.                        my heart.                             [Exit.
Dor. And you, the most charming being in the   Lady F. Why do you keep on your mask 2world, awaken me to admiration. Did you come'tis too warm.
from the stars!                               Court.'Tis very warm; I want air; let us go.
Let. Yes, and I shall re-ascend in a moment.    Lady F. You seem quite agitated.-Sha'n't
Dor. Pray show me your face before you go.   we bid our company adieu'
Let. Beware of imprudent curiosity; it lost   Court. No, no-there's no time for forms. I'll
Paradise.                                   just give directions to the carriage, and be with
Dor Eve's curiosity was raised by the devil you in a moment. [Going, steps back.] Put on
-tls an angel tempts mine. -So your al- your mask; I have a particular reason for it.
lusion is not in point.                                                           [Exit
Let. But why would you see my face'!              Re-enter SAYILLE,  ith KITTY.
Dor. To fall in love with it.
Let. And what then?                         Sav. Now, Kitty, you know your lesson.
Dor. Why then; ay, curse it! there's the Lady Frances, [Takes off'is mask.] let me lead
ru! -                                [Aside. you to your husband.




SCENEIT.]             THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM.                                      547
Lady F. Heavens! Is Mr. Saville the con-   Dor.'Tis in vain to assume airs of coldness,
jurer 3 Sir George is just stepped to the door, to -Fate has ordained you mine.
give directions. We are going home immediately.   Let. How do you know 3
Sav. No, madam, you are deceived: Sir George   Dor. I feel it here. I never met with a wois this way.                                 man so perfectly to my taste; and I wont believe
Lady F. This is astonishing!              it formed you so, on purpose to tantalize me.
Sav. Be not alarmed: you have escaped a   Let. This moment is worth a whole existence!
snare, and shall be in safety in a moment.                                       [Aside.
[Exit SAVILLE and LADY FRANCES.;  Dor. Come, show me your face, and rivet my
chains.
Re-enter COURTALL, and seizes KITTY'S hand. chains.
Let. To-morrow vou shall be satisfied.
Court. Now.                                 Dor. To-morrow, and not to-night 3
Kitty.'Tis pity to go so soon.              Let. No.
Court. Perhaps I may bring you back, my an-   Dor. Where then shall I wait on. you togel-but go now you must.                     morrow ]-Where see you?
[Exeunt COURTALL and KITTY.   Let. You shall see me in an hour when you
Re-enter DORICOURT and LETITIA.        least expect me.
Dor. Why all this mystery?
Dor. By heavens! I never was charmed till   Let. I like to be mysterious. At present be connow. English beauty —French vivacity-wit-  tent to know that I am a woman of family and
elegance.-Your name, my angel! tell me your fortune.
name, though you persist in concealing your face.   Dor. Let me see you to your carriage.
Let. My name has a spell in it.              Let. As you value knowing me, stir not a step.
Dor. I thought so; it must be charming.    If I am followed, you never see me more. Adieu.
Let. But' if revealed, the charm is broke.                                      [Exit.
Dor. I'll answer for its force.                          Enter HARDY.
Let. Suppose it Harriot, or Charlotte, or Maria,
~or-  X'          X"    -,~ -~ ~Har. Adieu! then I'm come in at the fag end!
-[Aside.
Dor. Hang Harriot, and Charlotte, and Maria   or. Barbarous creature             what,
-the name, your father gave y.e!             Dor. Barbarous creature! she's gone! what,
-the name your father gave ye!
Let. That can't be worth knowing;'tis so and is this really serious? —Am I in love? —Pho!
transient a thing.
Dor. How transient                                      Enter FLUTTER.
Let. Heaven forbid my name should be lasting 0 Flutter, do you know that charming creature?
till [ am married.'                      Flut. What charming creature   I passed a
Dor. Married! the chains of matrimony are thousand.
too heavy and vulgar for such a spirit as yours.   Dor. She went out that door as you entered.
The flowery wrea'ths of Cupid are the only bands   Flut. Oh, yes;-I know her very well.
you should wear.                               Dor. Do you, my dear fellow, who is she?
Let. They are the lightest, I believe: but'tis   Flut. She's kept by Lord George Jennett.
possible to wear those of marriage gracefully.   iar. Impudent scoundrel! —    foresee I shall
Throw them loosely round, and twist them in a cut his throat!                   [Aside.
true-lover's knot for the bosom.               Dor. Kept!
Dor. An angel! But what will you be when a   Flut. Yes; Colonel Gorget had her first;wife?                                       then Mr. Loveill;-then-I forget exactly how
Let. A woman. —If my husband should prove many; and at last she's Lord George's.
a churl, a fool, or a tyrant, I'd break his heart, ruin            [ Talks to other Mlasks.
his fortune, elope with the first pretty fellow that. Dor. I'll murder Gorget, poison Lord George,
asked me-and return the contempt of the world and shoot myself.
with scorn, whilst my feelings preyed upon my life.   Har. Now's the time, I see to clear up the
Dor. Amazing' [Aside.] What if you loved whole.  Mr. Doricourt!-I say-Flutter was
him, and he were worthy of your love?      mistaken; I know who you are in love with.
Let. Why, then I'd be any thing-and all!-    Dor. A strange rencontre! Who?
grave, gay, capricious-the soul of whim, the   Har. My Letty.
spirit of variety-live with him in the eye of   Dor. Oh! I understand your rebuke;-'tis too
fashion, or in the shade of retirement-change soon, Sir, to assume the father-in-law.
my country, my sex-feast with him in an Es-   Har. Zounds! what do you mean by that? I
quimaux hut, or a Persian pavilion-join him in tell you that the lady you admire is Letitia Hardy.
the victorious war-dance on the borders of Lake   Dor. I am glad you are so well satisfied with the
Ontario, or sleep to the soft breathings of the flute state of my heart.-I wish I was!  [Exit.
in the cinnamon groves of Ceylon-dig with him    Har. Stop a moment. —Stop, I say! what,
in the mines of Golconda, or enter the dangerous you wont? very well-if I don't play you a trick
precincts of the Mogul's seraglio —cheat him  for this, may T never be a grandfather! I'll plot
of his wishes, and overturn his empire, to restore with Letty now, and not against her; ay, hang
the husband of my heart to the blessings of liberty me if I don't! There's something in my head,
and love.                                    that shall tingle in his heart. He shall have a
Dor. Delightful wildness! oh, to catch thee, lecture upon impatience, that I foresee he'll.be
and hold thee for ever in this little cage!  the better for as long as he lives.  [Exit
Le. [Attempting to clasp her.  Re-enter SAVILLE, with Gentlemen.
Let Hold, Sir. Though Cupid must give the
bait that tempts me to the snare,'tis Hymen    Sav. Flutter, come with as; we're going to
must spread the net to catch me.             raise a laugh at Courtall's.




548                  THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM.                                    [ACT V.
Flut. With all my heart. Live to live, was sun, and bless the wond'ring circle with youl
my father's motto. Live to laugh, is mine.   charms.                 [ Takes oqf her mask
[Music; exeunt.   Sav. Kitty Willis! ha, ha, ha!
SCENE II.-At COURTALL'S.               Omnes. Kitty Willis! ha, ha, ha! Kitty Willis
1 Gent. Why, what a fellow you are, Courtallh,
En~ter KITTY and COURTALL.          to attempt imposing on your friends in this manKitty. Where have you brought me, Sir ner. A  lady of quality! an earl's daughter'.
George' This is not our home!               Your ladyship's most obedient-Ha, ha, ha!
Court.'Tis my home, beautiful Lady Frances!   Sav. Courtall, have you influence. or have you
[Kneels, and takes off his mask.] Oh; forgive the not?
ardency of my passion, which has compeiled me   Flut. The man's moon-struck.
to deceive you!                               Court. Hell and ten thousand furies seize you
Kitty. Mr. Courtall! what will become of me'  all together!
Court. Oh, say but that you pardon the wretch    Kitty. What, me too, Mr. Courtall? me, whom
who adores you. Did you but know the agoni-  you have knelt to, prayed to, and adored'
zing tortures of my heart, since I had the felicity    Flut. That's right, Kitty; give him a little
of conversing with you this morning-or the more.
despair that now-                              Court. Disappointed and laughed at!
Kitty. Oh, I am undone!           [Knock.   Sav. Laughed at, and despised. I have fulCourt. Zounds! my dear Lady Frances! I filled my design, which was to expose your vilam not at home! Rascal! do you hear!  Let lany, and laugh at your presumption.  Adieu,
nobody in; I am not at home!                Sir; remember how you again boast of your inServ. [Without.] Sir, I told the gentlemen so. fluence with women of rank; and when you next
Court. Eternal curses! they are coming up. want amusement, dare not to look up to the virStep into this room, adorable creature! one mo- tuous and to the noble for a companion.
ment; I'll throw them out of the window, if they                   [E.xit, leading KITTY.
stay there.                   [Exit KITTY.   Flut. And, Courtall, before you carry a lady
Enter SAVILLE, FLUTTER, and GENTLEMEN.  into your bed-chamber again, look under her
mask; d'ye hear?                    [Exit.
i Fut. 0, gemini! beg the petticoat's pardon.   Court. There's no bearing this! I'll set off
Just saw a corner of it.                    for Paris directly.                   [Exit.
1 Gent. No wonder admittance was so difficult. I thought you took us for bailiffs.                     ACT V.
Court. Upon my soul, I am devilish glad to
see you; but you perceive how I am  circumstanced. Excuse me at this moment.                   Enter HARDY and VILLERS.
2 Gent. Tell us who'tis then.
Court. Oh, fy!                               Vil. Whimsical enough! Dying for her, and
1lut. We wont blab.                        hates her! Believes her a fool, and a woman of
Court. I can't, upon honour.  Thus far-  brilliant understanding!
She's a woman of the first character and rank.   Har, As true as you are alive; but, when 1
Saville, [Taking him aside.] have I influence, went up to him, last night, at the Pantheon, out
or have I not 2                              of downright good nature, to explain things-my
Sav. Why, sure, you do not insinuate-     gentleman whips round upon his heel, and snapped
Court. No, not insinuate, but swear, that she's me as short as if I had been a beggar woman with
now in my bed-chamber; by gad, I don't deceive six children, and he overseer of the parish.
you. There's generalship, you rogue! such an    Vil. Here comes the wonder-worker.
humble, distant, sighing fellow as thou art, at the
end of a six months siege, would have boasted of
a kiss from her glove. I only give the signal, Here comes the enchantress, who can go to masand-pop!-she's in my arms!                 querades, and sing, and dance, and talk a man
Sav. What Lady Fran-                      out of his wits! But pray, have we morning
Court. Hush!  You shall see her name to- masquerades'
morrow morning in red letters at the end of my    Let. Oh, no; but I am so enamoured of this
list.  Gentlemen, you must excuse me now. all-conquering habit, that I could not resist putCome and drink chocolate at twelve, but-    ting it on the moment I had breakfasted. I shall
Sav. Ay, let us go, out of respect to the lady: wear it on the day I am married, and then lay it'tis a person of rank.                      by in spices, like the miraculous robes of St.
Flut. Is it' Then I'll have a peep at her.  Bridget.
[Runs to the door in the back scene.   Vil. That's as most brides.do. The charms
Court. This is-too much.                  that helped to catch the husband are generally
f Trying to prevent him. laid by, one after another, till the lady grows a
I Gent. By Jupiter, we'll all have a peep.  downright wife, and then runs crying to her
Court. Gentlemen, consider, for Heaven's sake mother, because she has transformed her lover
-a lady of quality. What will be the conse- into a downright husband.
quences'                                      Har. Listen to me. I han't slept to-night, for
Flut. The consequences! Why, you'll have thinking of plots to plague Doricourt-and they
your throat cut, that's all, but I'll write your drove one another out of my head so quick, that
eiegy. So now for the door! [Part open the I was as giddy as a goose, and could make nothing
door, whilst the rest hold COURTALL.] I beg your of them: I wish to goodness you 4ould contrive
ladyship's pardon, whoever you are. [Leads her something.
out.] Emerge from darkness, like the glorious    Vil. Contrive to plague him!  Nothing so




SCENEII.]              THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM.                                      549
easy. Don't undeceive him, Madam, till he is     SCENE I. —DORIcoURT'S Lodgings.
your husband. Marry him while he possesses    DORICOURT, in his robe de chambre; enter
the sentiments you laboured to give him of Miss               SAVILLE.
Hardy; and when you are his wifeLet. Oh, Heavens!- I see the whole-that's   Dov. Undressed so lated
the very thing. My dear Mr. Villers, you are   Dor. I didn't go to bed till late-'twas late bethe divinest man    d                        fore I slept-late when I rose. Do you know
Vii. Don't make love to me, hussy.        LoSard George JennettYes.
Dor. Has he a mistress?
Enter MRs. RACKETT.
Sav. Yes.
Dor. What sort of a creature is she?
flirs. R. No, pray don't; for I design to have   Dor. What sort of a creature is she  
Villers myself in about six years. There's an   Sea. Why, she spends him three thousand a
oddity in him that, pleases me. He holds women year with the  ease of a duchess, and entertains
in contempt; and I should like to have an op-     friends with the grace of a Ninon. Ergo,
in cportunity of breaking his heart for thave an     she is handsome, spirited, and clever. [DoRIcouRT
portunity of breaking his heart for that..walks about disordered.] In the name of caprice.
Vil. And when I am heartily tired of life, I
know no woman whom I would with more plea- what ails you?
know make myexecutioner.Dor. You have hit it-Elle est mon caprice.
sure make my executioner.                    The mistress of Lord George Jennett is my ca-.Har. It cannot be; I foresee it will be impossi-  rice. Oh, insufferable
ble to bring it about. You know the wedding. Oh, insuferable 
wasn't to take place this week, or more-and   SDor. Saw her, you saw her at the masquerade?
Letty will never be able to play the fool so long.    Dor. Saw her, loved her, d ied for her-without
knot shall be tied to-night. I have knowing her. And now, the curse is, I can't
Vil. The knot shall be tied to-night. I have
V Thhate her.
it all here; [Pointing to his frehead.] the Ii-   Seay. Ridiculous enough! All this distress about
cense is ready. Feign yourself ill; send for Do-                                    a
ricourt, and tell him  you can't go out of the   kept woman, whom any man may have, I dare
ricourt, and tell him  you. cart go out of the swear, in a fortnight.  They've been jarring
world in peace, except you see the ceremony per- swear, in a fortnight. They've been arring
formed.                                      some time.
Dor. Have her! The sentiment I have conHar. I feign myself ill! I could as soon feign ceived for the witch is so unaccountable, that, in
myself aRoman ambassador. I was never ill in
that line, I cannot bear her idea. Was she a womy life, hut with the tooth-ache-qwhn Letty's.   man of honour, for a wife, I could adore hermother was a-breeding I had all the qualms.   ut I really believ
Vii~. Oh, I have no ferfoyu.but I really believe, if she should send me an asVil. Oh, I have no fears for you. But what
says Miss Hardy 2 Are you willing to make the sgnation, I should hate her.
irrevocable vow before night                   Sav.'Hey-day! this sounds like love. What
Let. Oh, Heavens!-I-i-'Tis so exceeding becomes of poor Miss Hardy 2
Let. Oh, Heavens!-I  I-'Tis so exceeding   Dor. Her name has given me an ague! dear
sudden, that reallyMrs. R. That really she is frightened out of her Saville, how shall I contrive to make old Hardy
cancel the engagements. the moiety of the estate,
wits, lest it should be impossible to bring matters which he wil forfeit, shall be his the   estate,
about. But I have taken the scheme into my which he will forfeit, shall be his the next moabout. But I have taken the scheme into my ment by deed ofgift.
protection, and you shall be Mrs. Doricourt be- mena. Let me  see-an't you get it insinuated
fore night. Come, [ToHARDY.) to bed directly:    Sa. Let me see-Can't you get it insinuated
fore night. Com e,      [ To saRD.]  to be d directly  that you are a devilish wild fellow; that you are
your room shall be crammed with vials, and all
the apparatus of death-then, heigh presto! for an infidel, and attached to wenching, gaming, and
ttle apparatus of death —then, heigh presto! for so forth 2
Doricourt.
Vri. You go and put offyour conquering dress,   Dor. Ay, such a character might have done
[To LEYITIA.] and get all your awkward airs some good two centuries back. But who the devil
[Toready. ALET ] and you practise ayour awkward airs can it frighten now — I believe it must be the mad
ARDY.] And you practise  an few  groans. [tO scheme at last.-There, will that do for a grin!
HARDY.] And you, if possible, an air of gravity.   Sav. Ridiculous!-But how are you certain
[To MRS. RACKiT.] I'll answer for the plot..  that the woman who has so bewildered you beLet. Married in jest!'Tis an odd idea! Well, longs to Lord George?
I'll venture it.
[Exeunt LETITIA and MRS. RACKETT. Dor. Flutter told me so.
Vil. Ay, I'll be sworn! [Looks at his twatch.]   Sav. Then fifty to one against the intelligence.:    Dor. It must be so. There was a mystery in'Tis past three. The budget's to be opened this   Dor. It must be so. There was a mystery in
morning, I'll just step down to the house. Will her manner, for which nothing else can account.
[A violent rap.] Who can this be?
Har. What! with a mortal sickness,        Sav. [Looks out.] The proverb is your answer
Vi. What a blockhead'! I believe if half of us -'tis Flutter himself. Tip him a scene of the
PC~Fl. W~hat a blockhead!m I believe if half of us
were to stay away with mortal sicknesses, it madman, and see how it takes.
would be for the health of the nation.  Good   Dor. I will-a good way to send it about town.
molrning. I'll call and feel your pulse as T come Shall it be of the melancholy kind, or the raving?
bamorckingck.    I'l call and feel your pulse as  come  a. Rant!-Rant!-Here he comes.
back.                              [EYou wont find the  over brisk I fancy Dor. Talk not to me; who can pull comets by
Het. You wont find them over brisk, I fancy. the heard and overset an island!
I foresee some ill happening from this making believe to die before one's time. But hang it-a              Enter FLUTTER.
hem! I am a stout man yet; only fifty-six-  There! this is he!-this is he who hath sent my
What's that? In the last yearly bills there were poor soul, without coat or breeches, to be tossed
three lived to above a hundred. Fifty-six! Fid- about in ether like a duck feather! villain, give me
dle-4e-dee! I am not afraid, not I.   [Exit. my soul again!




550                  THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM.                                    [ACT %
Fnut. Upon my soul, I haven't got it.                 Enter MRs. RACKETT.
[Frightened.
Sax. Oh,. Mr. Flutter, what a melancholy   Mrs. R. Oh, Lady Frances! I am shocked tc
sight!-I little thought to have seen my poor death.-Have you received a card from us?
friend reduced to this.                        Lady F. Yes; within these twenty minutes.
Flut. Mercy defend me! what, is he mad?    Mrs. R. Ay,'tis of no consequence.-'Tis all
Sav. You see how it is. A cursed Italian lady over-Doricourt's mad.
-Jealousy-gave him a drug; and every full of   Lady F. Mad!
the moon-                                      Mrs. R. My poor Letitia -Just as we were
Dor. Moon! who dares talk of the moon' the enjoying ourselves with the prospect of a scheme
patroness of genius-the rectifier of wits-the-  that was planned for their mutual happiness, in
Oh! here she is!-I feel her-she tugs at my came Flutter, breathless with the intelligence:brain-she has it-she has it-Oh!  [Exit. I flew here to know if you had heard it.
Fnut. Well, this is dreadful! exceeding dread-   Lady F. No, indeed —and I hope it is one of
ful, I protest. Have you had Munro?          Mr. Flutter's dreams.
Say. Not yet.  The worthy Miss Hardy —                   Enter SAVILLE.
what a misfortune!
Flut. Ay, very true.-Do they know it?     Apropos; now we shall be informed. Mr. SaSav. Oh, no; the paroxysm seized him but ville, I rejoice to see you, though Sir George will
this morning.                                be disappointed: he's gone to your lodging.
FZut. Adieu; I can't stay.                   Sav. I should have been happy to have pre[Going in great haste. vented Sir George. I hope your ladyship's adSav. But you must stay, [Holding him.] and  venture last night did not disturb your dreams?
assist me-perhaps he'll return again in a mo-   Lady F. Not at all; for I never slept a moment.
ment; and when he is in this way, his strength  My escape, and the importance of my obligations
is prodigious.                              to you, employed my thoughts. But we have just
Flut. Can't, indeed-can't, upon my soul.    had shocking intelligence-Is it true that Dori[ Going. court is mad?
Sav. Flutter-Don't make a mistake now-re-   Sav. So, the business is done. [Aside.] Mamember'tis Doricourt that's mad.            dam, I        am sorry to say that I have just been a
Flut. Yes-you rraad.                       melancholy witness of his ravings; he was in the
Sav. No, no; Doricourt.                    height of a paroxysm.
Flut.'Egad, I'll say you are both mad, and    Mrs. R. Oh, there can be no doubt of it! Flutthen I can't mistake.     [Exeunt severally. ter told us the whole history.  Some Italian
princess gave him a drug, in a box of sweetmeats,
SCENE SII.-SXiR GEORGE TOUCHWOOD'S   sent to him by her own page; and it renders him
House.                    lunatic every month. Poor Miss Hardy! I never
felt so much on any occasion in my life.
Enter SIR GEORGE and LADY FRANCES          Sav. To soften your concern, I will infobrm
ToucHwooD.                   you, Madam, that Miss Hardy is less to be pitied
than you imagine.
Sir G. The bird is escaped-Courtall is gone    Mrs. R. Why so, Sir?
to France.                                     Sav.'Tis rather a delicate subject-but he did
Lady F. Heaven and earth! have you been to not love Miss Hardy.
seek him?                                     Mrs. R. He did love Miss Hardy, Sir, and
Sir G. Seek him! Ay.                      would have been the happiest of men.
Lady F. How did you get his name? I should   Sav. Pardon me, Madam; his heart was not
never have told it you.                      only free from that lady's chains, but absolutely
Sir G. I learned it in the first coffee-house I captivated by another.
entered.-Every body is full of the story.      MIrs. R. No, Sir-no. It was Miss Hardy
Lady F. Thank Heaven he's gone!-But I who captivated him. She met him last night at
have a story for you-The Hardy family are the masquerade, and charmed him in disguise.
forming a plot upon your friend Doricourt, and  He professed the most violent passion for her:
we are expected in the evening to assist.    and a plan was laid this evening, to cheat him into
Sir G. With all my heart, my angel; but I happiness.
can't stay to hear it unfolded.  They told me    Sav. Ha, ha, ha!-Upon my soul, I must beg
Mr. Saville would be at home in half an hour, your pardon! I have not eaten of the Italian
and I am impatient to see him. The adventure princess' box of sweetmeats, sent by her own page;
of last night-                               and yet I am as mad as Doricourt, ha, ha, ha!
Lady F. Think of it only with  gratitude.   Mrs. R. So it appears. What can all this mean?
The danger I was in has overset a new system    Sav. WVhy, Madam, he is at present in his
of conduct, that perhaps I was too much inclined  perfect senses; but he'll lose them in ten minutes
to adopt.  But henceforward, my dear Sir through joy. The madness was only a feint to
George, you shall be my constant companion and avoid marrying Miss Hardy, ha, ha, ha!-I'll
protector. And when they ridicule the unfash- carry him the intelligence directly.  [Going.
ionable monsters, the felicity of our hearts will   Mrs. R. Not for worlds. I owe him revenge
make their satire pointless.                 now for what he has made us suffer. You mdst
Sir G. Charming angel! You almost recon- promise not to divulge a syllable I have told you;
cile me to Courtall.  Hark! here's company: and when Doricourt is summoned to Mr. Hardy's,
fStepping to the door.]'tis your livery widow  prevail on him to come-madness and-all.
-I'11 steo down the back stairs to escape her.  Lady F. Pray do. I should like to see him
rExit. showing off, now I am in the secret.




SCENE V.]               THE BELLE'SS TR ATAGEM.                                       551
Sav. You musc be obeyed, though'tis inhuman  yol lger than I am. [Aside.] Is Mr. Doricourt
to conceal his nappiness.                     handsome?
eakrs. R. I am going home; so I'll set you down    Mrs. R. Handsome, generous, young, and
at his lodgings, and acquaint you, by the way, rich.-There's a husband for ye! Isn't he worth
with our whole scheme. Allons!                 pulling caps for?
Sav. I attend you.        [Leading her out.   Miss 0. I'my conscience, the widow speaks
IMrs. R. You wont fail us?                 as though she'd give cap, ears, and all fbr him.
[Exeunt SAVILLE and MRS. RACKETT. [Aside.] I wonder you didn't try to catch this
Lady F. Depend on us.                [Exit. wonderful man, Mrs. Rackett 1
rSCENE IVD Ts Lodgings. rs R. Really, Miss Ogle, I had not time.
Besides, when 1 marry, so many stout young tBlDORICOURT seated, reading.           lows will hang themselves, that, out of regard to
Dor. Flings aay the book.] What effect can society, in these sad times, I shall postpone it for
Dor. [Flings away the book.] Whateffect can a few years.-This will cost her a new lace.the morals of fourscore have on a mind torn with heard it crack.                     [Aswde.
passion? [Musing.] Is it possible such a soul as
hers can support itself in so humiliating a situa-  Enter SIR GEORGE and LADY FRANCES.
tion?  A kept woman! [Rising.] Well, well-    Sir G. Well, here we are. But where's the
I am glad it is so —.I am glad it is so!       knight of the woful countenance 
Enter SAVILLE.                    Mrs. R. Here soon, I hope-for a woful
night it will be without him.
Sat. What a happy dog you are, Doricourt!  SSir G. Oh fy! do you condescend to pun?
I might have been mad, beggared, or pistol'd, my-    Srs..Why not It requires genius to make
self, without its being mentioned-But you, fbr- a         -some nen of br
a good pun-some men of bright parts can't
sooth' the whole female world is concerned for. 
reach it. I know a lawyer who writes them on
I reported the state of your brain to five different the ack of his briefs; and says they are of great
the back of his briefs; and says they are of great
women. The lip of the first trembled; the white use-in a dry cause.
bosom of the second heaved a sigh; the third
ejaculated, and turned her eye to-the glass; the             Enter FLUTTER.
fourth blessed herself; and the fifth said, whilst   Fut. Here they come! Here they come!she pinned a curl, Well, now perhaps he'll be an  Their coach stopped as mine drove off.
amusing companion: his native dulness was in-                    Come, let me guide you
Sav. [Without.] Come, let me guide you!~~~~tolerable.                    ~This way, my poor friend!  Why are you so
Dor. Envy! sheer envy, by the smiles of Hebe! furious?
-There are no less than forty pair of the bright-    Dor. [Without.] The house of death-to the
est eyes in town will drop crystals, when they house of death!
hear of my misfortune.
Sav. Well, but I have news for you.-Poor           Enter DORICOURT and SAVILLE.
Hardy is confined to his bed; they say he is go- Ah! this is the spot!
ing out of the world by the first post, and he wants   Lady F. How wild and fiery he looks 
to give you his blessing.                        Mwiss 0. Now, I think, he looks terrified!
Dor. Ill! so'ill! Iam   sorry from my soul.   Mrs. R. I never saw a madman before.-Let
He's a worthy little fellow-if he had not the me examine him.-Will he bite?
gift of foreseeing so strongly.                  Sav. Pray keep out of his reach, ladies. You
Sav. Well, you must go and take leave.      don't know your danger. He's like a wild cat,
Dor. What! to act the lunatic in the dying  if asudden thought seizes him.
man's chamber?..                              Mrs. R. You talk like a keeper of wild cats.Sav. Exactly the thing; and will bring your How much do you demand for showing the monbusiness to a short issue: for his last commands ster? 
must be, that you are not to marry his daughter.    Dor. I don't like this-I must rouse their senDor. That's true, by Jupiter! —and yet, hanfg sibility. [Aside.] There! there she starts through
it, impose upon a poor fellow at so serious a mo- th air in liquid flames! Down again! Now I
ment!-I can't do it.                         have her.-Oh, she burns! she scorches!-Oh!
Sav. You must, faith. I am answerable for she eats into my very heart!
your appearance, though it should be in a strait    Omnes. Ha, ha, ha!
waistcoat. He knows your situation, and seems   Dor. I am laughed at!
the more desirous of an interview                Mrs. R. Laughed at —ay, to be sure; why, I
Dor. I don't like encountering Rackett.-She's could play the madman better than you. There!
an arch little devil, and will discover the cheat.   there she is! Now I have her! Ha, ha, ha!
Sav. There's a fellow!-Cheated ninety-nine    Dor. 1'11 leave the house:   I'm covered with
women, and now afraid of the hundredth.       confusion.                            [Going.
Dor. And with reason-for that hundredth    Si G. Stay, Sir-You must not go.'Twa
is a widow.                         [Exeunt. poorly done, Mr. Doricourt, to affect madness
SCENE V.-HARDY'S.                  rather than fulfil your engagements.;~En~ter MRS. RACKETT and ~MIsS OGLE.       ~Dor. - Affect madness! Saville, what can I do?
Sayt. Since you are discovered, confess the whole.
Miss O. And so Miss Hardy is actually to be   Dor. Yes; *since my designs have been se unmarried to-night 2                             accountably discovered, I will avow the whole.:Mrs. R. If her fate does not deceive her. You  I cannot love Miss Hardy, and I will never.
are apprised of the scheme, and we hope it will   Sav. Hold, my dear Doricourt! What will
swtcceed.                                     the world say to such —
Miss O0  Deuce'take her! she's six  years   Dor. Damn the world! What will the world




552                  THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM.                                    [AUr v.
give me for the loss of happiness. Must I sa-   Sir G. Never heed circumstances-the result.
crifice my peace, to please the world 2      -the resultSir G. Yes, every thing, rather than be branded   Mrs. R. No, no; you shall have it in form.
with dishonour.                              Mr. Hardy performed the sick man like an angel.
Lady F. Though our arguments should fail, He sat up in bed, and talked so pathetically, that
there is a pleader, whom you surely cannot with- the tears stood in Doricourt's eyes.
stand-the dying Mr. Hardy supplicates you not F- ut. Ay, stood; they did not drop, but stood.
to forsake his child!                        I shall in future be very exact: the parson seized
Sir G. The dying Mr. Hardy!  the moment; you know they never miss an opFlut. The dying Mr. Hardy!                 portunity.
Mrs. R. " Make haste," said Doricourt; "if I
Enter VILLERS.                have time to reflect, poor Hardy will die unhappy."
ldying Mr. Hardy requests you to  ut. They were got as far as the day of
Vil. The dying Mr. H ardy requests you to judgment, when we slipped out of the room.
grant him a moment's conversation, Mr. Doricourt,   Sir G. Then, by this time, they must have
though you should persist to send him miserable reached amazement, which every body knows is
to the grave.-Let me conduct you to his chamber. the end of matrimony.
Dor. Oh, ay, any where; to the antipodes-    Mrs. R. Ay, the reverend fathers ended the
to the moon.-Carry me.-Do with me what you service with that word, prophetically, to teach the
will.,
will. R. I'll follow  and let you kn      bride what a capricious monster a husband is.
s. R.'ll follow, and let you know what   Sir G. 1 rather think it was sarcastically, to
passes.
[Expasses.   VIL. DoR. Mas. R. and Miss    prepare the bridegroom for the unreasonable hu[Exeunt VIL. DOR. MRS. R. and MIss 0. mours and vagaries of his helpmate.
plut. Ladies, ladies, have the charity to take   Lady F. Here comes the bridegroom of to-night.
me with you, that I may make no blunder in repeating the story.                   [Exit.  Re-enter DORICOURT and VILLERS: VILLERS
Lady F. Sir George, you don't know Mr. Sa-        whispers SAVILLE, who goes out.
ville.                               [E'it.    Omnes. Joy! joy! oy!
Sir G. Ten thousand pardons; I have been   Miss.         s a sample of    roorns, keep
with the utmost impatience at your door twice to- me single! A younger brother, from the fineral
day.
day.   I                                  of his father, could not carry a more fretful counSav. I am conce.
Sir George.
Sir George. Trouble! what a word-I hardly know  lut. Oh! now he's melancholy mad, I sup-,~r G. Trouble! what a word l —I hardly know
how to address you; your having preserved Lady pose.
Lady F. You do not consider the importance
Frances in so imminent a danger, —start not, Sa-. You do not consider the occasion.
ville; to protect Lady Frances was my right.   Vil. No; nor how shocking a thing it is for a
You have wrested from me my dearest privilege, man to be forced to marry one woman, whilst his
man to be forced to marry one woman, whilst his
Sav. I hardly know how to answer such a re- heart is devoted to another.
proach.                                             R. Well, now'tis over, I confess to you,
Sir G. I do not mean to reproach you. I hardly. R,    X.'.ea
Sir G. I do not mean to reproach you. I hardly Mr. Doricourt, I think it was a most ridiculous
know what I mean. There is one method by piece of Quixotism, to give up the happiness of a
which you may restore peace to me. I have a
which you may rese. I        whole life to a man who perhaps has but few mosister, Saville, who is amiable; and you are wor- ments to be sensible of the sacrifice.
thy of her. You must go with us into Hamp-   Flut. So it appeared to me. But thought I
shire; and, if you see each other with the eyes I Mr. Doricourt has travelled; he nows best.
do, our,Xicit will be complete.      Mr. Doricourt has travelled; he knows best.
do, our felicity will be completeDor. Zounds! confusion! did ye not all set
Sav. I will attend you to Hampshire with       me    Didn't ye talk to me of honour compleasure; but not on the plan of retirement. Sopassion, justice?
ciety has claims on Lady Frances that forbid it.    Sir G.  Very true: you have acted according
Sir G A. Claims, aie                    to.............. Sir G. Very true: you have acted according
&or G. Claims, Saville*t                  to their dictates, and I hope the utmost felicity of
Sav. Yes, claims; Lady Frances was born to te married state will reward you.
be the ornament of courts. She is sufficiently   Dor Never, Sir George! To felicity I bid adieu.;
alarmed not to wander beyond the reach of her but I will endeavour to be content.  Where is
Vrotector; and, from the British court, the most     ust speak it-where is my wife
tenderly anxious husband could not wish to banish his wife. Bid her keep in her eye the bright    Enter LETITIA, masked, led by SAVILLE.
example who presides there; the splendour of
Sav. Mr. Doricourt, this lady was pressing to
whose rank yields to the superior lustre of her be introduced to you.
Dor. Oh!                        [Starting.
Re-enter MRS. RACKETT, LAuDY FRANCES, MISS   Let. I told you last night you' should see me at
OGLE, and FLUTTER.              a time when you least expected me, and I have
kept my promise.
MUrs. R. Oh, Heavens! do you know-          Vil. Whoever you are, Madam, you could not
Flut. Let me tell the story. As soon as Dori- have arrived at a happier moment. Mr. Doricourt
court-                                      is just married.
Mrs. R. I protest you sha'n't-said Mr.   Let. Married! impossible!'tis but a few hours
Hardy-                                       since he swore to me eternal love: I believed
Flut. No,'twas Doricourt spoke first-says he him, gave him up my virgin heart, and now!-No,'twas the parson-says he-               Ungrateful sex!
Mrs. R. Stop his mouth, Sir George;-he'll   Dor. Your virgin heart! No, lady; my fate,
spoil the tale.                             thank Heaven! yet wants that torture. Nothing




SCENE V.]             THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM.                                       553
but the conviction that you was another's could off my mask stamps me the most bless'd or miserahave made me think one moment of marriage, to ble of women!
have saved the lives of half mankind. But this   Dor. What can this mean? Reveal your face,
visit, Madam, is as barbarous as unexpected. It I conjure you.
is now my duty to forget you, which, spite ef   Let. Behold it.
your situation, I found difficult enough.       Dor. Rapture! transport! heaven!
Let. My situation! what situation?          Flut. Now for a touch of the happy madman.
Dor. I must apologize for explaining it in this   Let. This little stratagem arose from my discompany; but, Madam, I am not ignorant that appointment in not having made the impression
you are the companion of Lord George Jennett, on you I wished. The timidity of the English
and this is the only circumstance that can give character threw a veil over me you could not peme peace.                                    netrate. You have forced me to emerge, in some
Let. I-a companion! ridiculous pretence! no, measure, from my natural reserve, and to throw
Sir, know, to your confusion, that my heart, my off the veil that hid me.
honour, my name, is unspotted as hers you have    Dor. I am yet in a state of intoxication. I canmarried; my birth equal to your own, my fortune not answer you.-Speak on, sweet angel!
large. That, and my person, might have been    Let. You see I can be any thing; choose then
yours. But, Sir, farewell.           [Going. my character-your taste shall fix it. Shall I be
Dor. Oh, stay a moment.-Rascal! is she an English wife? or, breaking from the bonds of
not-                                         nature and education, step forth to the world in
Flut. Who, she? O Lord!'twas quite a dif- all the captivating glare of foreign manners?
ferent person that I meant. I never saw that   Dor. You shall be nothing but yourself —nolady before.                                 thing can be captivating that you are not. I will
Dor. Then, never shalt thou see her more.    not wrong your penetration, by pretending that
[Shakes FLUTTER.  you won my heart at the first interview; but you
MIrs. R. Have mercy upon the poor man! have now my whole soul;-your person, your
Heavens! He'll murder him.                  face, your mind, I would not exchange for those
Dor. Murder him! Yes, you, yourself, and of any other woman breathing.
all mankind.  Sir George-Saville-Villers-    Har. A dog! how well he makes up for past'twas you who pushed me on this precipice;'tis slights! Cousin Rackett, I wish you a good husyou who have snatched me from joy, felicity, and band, with all my heart. Mr. Flutter, I'll believe
life.                                        every word you say this fortnight. Mr. Villers,
Mrs. R. There! now, how well he acts the you and I have managed this to a T. I never was
madman! This is something like!  I knew he so merry in all my life.'Gad, I believe I can
would do it well enough, when the time came.   dance.                            [Footing.
Dor. Hard-hearted woman! Enjoy my ruin-    Dor. Charming, charming creature!
riot in my wretchedness.                       Let. Congratulate me, my dear friends! Can
Enter HARDY, hastily, in his night-cap and   you conceive my happiness?
gown.                       Har. No, congratulate me; for mine is thp
greatest.
liar. This is too much. You are now the    Flut. No, congratulate me, that I have escaped
husband of my daughter; and how dare you with life, and give me some sticking plaster; this
show all this passion about another woman?  wild cat has torn the skin from my throat.
Dor. Alive again!                           Har. Come into the next room; 1 have ordered
Har. Alive! ay, and merry. Here, wipe off out every drop of my forty-eight, and I'll invite
the flour from my face. I was never in better the whole parish of St: George's, but we'll drink
health and spirits in my life. I foresaw'twould  it out-except one dozen. which I shall keep undo. Why, my illness was only a fetch, man, to der three double locks, for a certain christening
make you marry Letty.                        that I foresee will happen within this twelve
Dor. It was! base and ungenerous!  Well, month.
Sir, you shall be gratified. The possession of   Dor. My charming bride! It was a strange
my heart was no object either with you or your perversion of taste, that led me to consider the
daughter. My fortune and name was all you de- delicate timidity of your deportment as the mark
sired, and these-I leave ye. My native Eng- of an uninformed mind, or inelegant mariners. I
land. I shall quit, nor ever behold you more. But, feel now it is to that innate modesty, English hius
lady, that, in my exile, 1 may have one consola- bands owe a felicity the married men of other
tion, grant me the favour you denied last night; countries are strangers to; it is a sacred veil to
let me behold all that mask conceals, that your vour own -charms; it is the surest bulwark to
whole image may be impressed on my heart, and your husbands' honour; and cursed be the hour,
cheer my distant solitary hours.             should it ever arrive. in which British ladies shall
Let. This is the most awful moment of my  sacrifice to foreign graces the grace of modesty.
life. Oh, Doricourt, the slight action of taking                                 rFxe,,nt.
VL. I....4A    A   47




THE CRITIC:
OR,
A TRAGLDY REHEARSED.
A DRAMIATIC PIECE,
IN THREE ACTS.
BY R. B. SHERIDAN, EsQ.
REMARKS.
THIS production, fiom the pen of the Rt. Hon. R. B. Sheridan, is one of those dramatical pieces wnrch hold a
high rank in the estimation of the public, and is perhaps the best effort of ridicule that has hitherto appeared
against those who have imagined they possessed talents for theatrical composition. The character of Sir Fret.
ful Plagiary is highly drawn, and his foibles anrl peculiarities are painted to the life. The various turns in his
speeches are exceedingly natural for a person in his situation; and Dangle, with Sneer at his elbow, contrives
to keep him in continual perturbation. The Puffs, too, of this scheming age, who were never more numerous
or importunate, are justly lashed in the ridicule bestowed by our witty. author.
The vein of original humour which pervades the whole piece, notwithstanding its acrimonious animadversions, cannot fail to raise a pleasant laugh; but the political and other allusions require alteration to adapt it
for representation at different periods of time.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
As originally performed.             SIR WALTER RALEIGH,.........  Mr. Burton.
SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON.....Mr. WTaldron.
DAN~GLE,................     Mr.... air. Dodd~.. MASTER OF THE HORSE.........Mr. Kenny.
SNEER,....................Mr. Palmer...........    Mr. Wrght.
SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY...  Parsons.    JUSTICE......                     Mr. Packer.
UNDER PROMPTER..............Mr. Phillimore.   SON,.........Mr. Lamash.
PUFF,......................... Mr. King.       CONTA LE,..........             r. Fae.
PUFF.Mr.King.  CONSTAHLE,..  Mr. Fawcett.
THAMES,.........M....... r. Gawdry.
MRS. DANGLE,                   Ms.........  Mrs. Hopkins.  DON FEROLO WIIISKERANDOS,... Mr. Bannister.
Characters of the Tragedy.           FIRST NIECE,         Miss Collet.
SECOND NIECE,...       Miss Kirby.
LORD BURLEIGH,............... Mr. Moody.       JUSTICE'S LADY.............. Mrs. Johnston.
GOVERNOR OF TILBURY FORT,...Mr.  Wrighten.    CONFIDANT.....................  Mrs. Bradshaw.
EARL OF LEICESTER,...........Mr. Farren.       TILBURINA.................. iss Pope.
Guards, Constables, Servants, Chorus, Drivers, Attendants, &c. &c.
ACT I.                       Pshaw!-Nothing but about the fleet and the
S CENVE  1.                    nation!-and I hate all politics but theatrical
politics.-Where's the Morning Chronicle.
MR. and MRS. DANGLE at breakfast, reading        Mfrs. D. Yes, that's your Gazette.
Newspapers.                      Dang. So, here we have it; " Theatrical intelliDang. [Reading.] " Brutus to Lord North." gence extraordinary.-We hear there is a new
— _' Letter the second on the state of the army." tragedy in rehearsal at Drury-lane Theatre, call-Pshaw! " To the first L-dash D of the A-  ed the Spanish Armada, said to be written by Mr.
dash Y."-" Genuine extract of a letter from St. Puff, a gentleman well known in the theatrical
Kitt's." —" Coxheath intelligence."-" It is now  world.  If we may allow ourselves to give credit
confidently asserted that Sir Charles Hardy," —  to the report of the performers, who, truth to say,
554




SCENE I.]                         THE CRITIC.                                       555
are in general but indifferent judges, this piece   Dang. Mrs. Dangle and I have been diverting
abounds with the most striking and received beau- ourselves with the papers.-Pray, Sneer, wont
ties of modern composition.'"-So -I am very you go to Drury-lane Theatre the first night of
glad my friend Puff's tragedy is in such forward- Puff's tragedy?
ness.-Mrs. Dangle, my dear, you will be very    Sneer. Yes; but I suppose one sha'n't be able
glad to hear that Puff's tragedy-             to get in. But here, Dangle, I have brought you.Mrs. D. Lord, Mr. Dangle, why will you two pieces, one of which you must exert yourself
plague me about such nonsefse? —Now the plays to make some of the managers accept, I can tell
are begun I shall have no peace.-Isn't it sufficient you that, for'tis written by a person of conseto make yourself ridiculous by your passion for the quence.
theatre, without continually teasing me to join    Dang. So! now my plagues are beginning.
you? Why can't you ride your hobby-horse with-   Sneer. Ay, I am glad of it, for now you'll be
out desiring to place me on a pillion behind you, happy. Why, my dear Dangle, it is a pleasure
Mr. Dangle?                                  to see how you enjoy your volunteer fatigue, and
Dang. Nay, my dear, I was only going to your solicited solicitations.
read-                                           Dang. It's a great trouble-yet,'egad, it's
Mrs. D. I have no patience with you!-haven't pleasant too.-Why, sometimes of a morning, I
you made yourself the jest of all your acquaintance  have a dozen people call on me at breakfast time,
by your interference in matters where you have no whose faces I never saw before, nor ever desire to
business 2 Are not you called a theatrical Quid- see again.
nunc, and a mock Mecaenas to second-hand au-   Sneer. That must be very pleasant indeed 
thors?                                         Dang. And not a week but I receive fifty letDang. True; my power with the managers is ters, and not a line in them about any business of
pretty notorious; but is it no credit to have appli- my own.
cations from all quarters for my interest?-From  Sneer. An amusing correspondence 
lords to recommend fiddlers, from  ladies to get   Dang. [Reading.]  "Bursts into tears, and
boxes, from authors to get answers, and from ac- exit."  What, is this a tragedy.
tors to get engagements.                        Sneer. No, that's a genteel comedy, not a
Mrs. D. Yes, truly; you have contrived to get translation-only taken from the French; it is
a share in all the plague and trouble of theatrical written in a style which they have lately tried to
property, without the profit, or even the credit of run down; the true sentimental, and nothing
the abuse that attends it.                   ridiculous in it from the beginning to the end.
Dang. I am sure,: Mrs. Dangle, you are no    Mrs. D. Well, if they had kept to that, I
loser by it, however; you have all the advantages should not have been such an enemy to the stage:
of it;-mightn't you, last winter, have had the there was some edification to be got from those
reading of the new pantomime a fortnight previ- pieces, Mr. Sneer i!
ous to its performance z And didn't my friend,   Sneer. I am quite of your opinion, Mrs. DanMr. Smatter, dedicate his last farce to you, at my gle; the theatre, in proper hands, might certainly
particular request, Mrs. Dangle.        be made the school of morality; but now, I am
Mrs. D.I Yes; but wasn't the farce damned, sorry to say it, people seem to go there principally
Mr. Dangle? And to be sure it is extremely plea- for their entertainment.
sant to have one's house made the motley rendez-    Mrs. D. It would have been more to the credit
vous of all the lackeys of literature: —The very  of the managers to have kept it in the other line.
high change of trading authors and jobbing critics!   Sneer. Undoubtedly, Madam; and hereafter
Dang. Mrs. Dangle, you will not easily per- perhaps to have had it recorded, that in the midst
suade me that there is no credit or importance in of a luxurious and dissipated age, they preserved
being at the head of a band of critics, who take two houses in the capital, where the conversation
upon them to decide for the whole town, whose was always moral at least, if not entertaining!
opinion and patronage all writers solicit, and whose    Dang. But what have we here? —This seems
recommendation no manager dares refuse!      a very oddMlirs. D. Ridiculous!-Both managers and au-   Sneer. 0 that's a comedy, on a very new plan;
thors of the least merit, laugh at your pretensions. replete with wit and mirth, yet of a most serious
-The public is their critic-without whose fair moral  You see it is called "The Reformed
approbation they know no play can rest on the Housebreaker;" where, by the mere force of
stage, and with- whose applause they welcome humour, housebreaking is put into so ridiculous a
such attacks as yours, and laugh at the malice of light, that if the piece has its proper run, I have
them, where they can't at the wit.            no doubt but that bolts and bars will be entirely
Dang. Very well, Madam-very well.          useless by the end of the season.
Enter SERVANT.                   Dang.'Egad, this is new indeed!
Sneer. Yes; it is written by a particular friend
Serv. Mr. Sneer, Sir, to wait on you.           *
S erh.       w Mr. Sneer, Sir, to wait on you.  of mine, who has discovered that the follies and
Dang. 0,. show  Mr. Sneer up. [Eit SER:foibles of society are subjects unworthy the notice
VANT.].Plague on't, now we must appear loving of the comic muse, who should be taught to stoo
and affectionate, or Sneer will hitch us into a story. only at the greater vices and blacker crimes of
Mrs. D. With all my heart; you can't be more humanity —gibbetting capital offences in five acts,
ridiculous than you are.                      and pillorying petty larcenies in two. In short,
Dang.  You are enough to provoke-          -his idea is to dramatise the penal laws, and make
Enter MR. SNEER.          -     the stage a court of ease to the Old Bailey.
-Ha! my dear Sneer, I am vastly glad to see   Dang. It is truly moral.
yrou. My dear, here's Mr. Sneer. Mr. Sneer,
my dear-my dear, Mr. Sneer. 
~ lrs. D. Good morning to you, Sir.           Serv. Sir Fretful Plagiary, Sir.




556                              THE  CRITIC.                                   [ACT I.
Dang. Beg him to walk up —[Exit SERVANT.]   Sir F. 0 lud! no-never send a play there
Now, Mrs. Dangle, Sir Fretful Plagiary is an while I live-harkye!       [Whispers SNEER.
author to your own taste.                      Sneer. Writes himself!-I know he doesSJ'rs. D. I confess he is a favourite of mine, be-   Sir F. I say nothing-I take away from no
cause every body else abuses him.            man's merit-am hurt at no man's good fortune
Sneer. Very much to the credit of your charity, -I say nothing-But this I will say-through all
Madam, if not of your judgment.              my knowledge of life, I have observed-that there
Dang. But,'egad, he allows no merit to any is not a passion so strongly rooted in the human
author but himself, that's the truth on't-though  heart as envy!
he's my friend.                                Sneer. I believe you have reason for what you
Sneer. Never.-He is as envious as an old maid say, indeed.
verging on the desperation of six and thirty: and    Sir F. Besides-I can tell you it is not always
then the insidious humility with which he seduces so safe to leave a play in the hands of those who
you to give a free opinion on any of his works, write themselves.
can be exceeded only by the petulant arrogance    Sneer. What, they may steal from them, hey,
with which he is sure to reject your observations. my dear Plagiary.
Dang. Very true,'egad-though  he's my    Sir F. Steal!-to be sure they may; and,'egad,
friend.                                      serve your best thoughts as gipsies do stolen chilSneer. Then his affected contempt of all news- dren, disfigure them to make'em pass for their
paper strictures; though, at the same time, he is own.
the sorest man alive; and shrinks like scorched    Sneer. But your present work is a sacrifice to
parchment from the fiery ordeal of true criticism.  M elpomene, and he, you know, neverDang. There's no denying it-though he is   Sir F. That's no security.-A dexterous plamy friend.                                   giarist may do any thing.-Why, Sir, for aught I
Sneer. You have read the tragedy he has just know, he might take out some of the best things
finished, haven't you?                      in my tragedy, and put them into his own comedy.
Dang. 0 yes; he sent it to me yesterday.     Sneer. That might be done, I dare be sworn.
Sneer. Well, and you think it execrable, don't   Sir F. And then, if such a person gives you
you?                                        the least hint or assistance, he is devilish apt to
Datng. Why, between ourselves,'egad, I must take the merit of the wholeown-though he's my friend-that it is one of   Dang. [f it succeeds.
the most-He's here [Aside.]-finished and    Sir F. Ay,-but with regard to this piece, I
most admirable perform -                     think I can hit that gentleman, for I can safely
Sir F. [Without.] Mr. Sneer with him, did swear he never read it.
you say?                                       Sneer. I'll tell- you how you may hurt him
Enter SIR PRETFUL.               moreSir F. How?Ah, my dear friend!-'Egad, we were just speak-   Sneer. Swear he wrote it.
ing of your tragedy. —Admirable, Sir Fretful,   Sir F. Plague on't now, Sneer, I shall take it
admirable!                                  ill.-I believe you want to take away my characSneer. You never did any thing beyond it, Sir t.er as an author!
Fretful-never in your life.                    Sneer. Then I am sure you ought to be very
Sir F. You make me extremely happy; for much obliged to me.
without a compliment, my dear Sneer, there isn't   Sir F. Hey!-Sir!
a man in the world whose judgment I value as I   Dang. 0, you know, he never means what he
do yours-and Mr. Dangle's.                   says.
Mrs. D. They are only laughing at you, Sir   Sir F. Sincerely then —you do like the piece?
Fretful; for it was but just now that-         Sneer. Wonderfully!
D)ang. Mrs. Dangle! Ah, Sir Fretful, you    Sirt F. But come now, there must be someknow Mrs. Dangle.-My friend Sneer was rally- thing that you think might be mended, hey?ing just now-He knows how she admires you, Mr. Dangle, has nothing struck you?
and -                                          Dang. Why faith, it is but an ungracious thing
Sir F. 0 Lord, I am sure Mr. Sneer has more for the most part totaste and sincerity than to- A  damned double-   Sir F. With most authors it is just so, indeed;
faced fellow!                       [Aside. they are in general strangely tenacious!-But, fbr
Dang. Yes, yes-Sneer will jest-but a better my part, I am never so well pleased as when a
humoured                                     judicious critic points out any defect to me: for
Sir F. O, I know-                         what is the purpose of showing a work to a friend,
Dang. He has a ready turn for ridicule-his if you don't mean to profit by his opinion?
wit costs him nothing.-                        Sneer. Very true. Why then, though I seriSir F. No,'egad-or I should wonder how he ously admire the piece upon the whole, yet there
came by it.                         [Aside. is one small objection; which, if you'll give me
Dacng. But, Sir Fretful, have you sent your leave, I'll mention.
play to the managers yet? —or can I be of any    Sir F. Sir, you can't oblige me more.
service to you?                               Sneer. I think it wants incident.
Sir F. No, no, I thank you; I believe the piece   Sir F. Good God!-you surprise me!-wants
had sufficient recommendation with it.-I thank incident!you though —I sent it to the manager of Covent-   Sneer. Yes; I own I think the incidents are
garden Theatre this morning.                 too few.
Sneer. I should have thought now, that it might   Sir F. Good God!-Believe me, -Mr. Sneer,
have been cast (as the actors call it) better at there is no person for whose judgment I have a
Drurv-lane.                                 more implicit deference.-But I protest to you,




SCAENE I.]                        THE  CRITIC,                                     557:Mr. Sneer, I am only apprehensive that the inci-   Sir F. 0 lud, no!-anxious,-not I,-not the
dents ate too crowded.-My dear Dangle, how  least.-I-But one may as well hear, you know.
does it strike you 2                           Dang. Sneer, do you recollect? —Make out
Dang. R4ally I can't agree with my friend something.
Sneer.-I think the plot quite sufficient; and the   Sneer. I will. [To DANGLE.]-Yes, yes, I refour first acts by many degrees the best I ever read member perfectly.
or saw in my life. If I might venture to suggest   Sir F. Well, and pray now-Not that it sig
any thing, it is that the interest rather falls off in nifies-what might the gentleman say'
the fifth.-                                    Sneer. Why he roundly asserts that you have
Sir F. Rises, I believe you mean, Sir.     not the slightest invention or original genius
Dang. No, I don't, upon my word.           whatever: though you are the greatest traducer
Sir F. Yes, yes, you do, upon my soul-it of all other authors living.
certainly don't fall off, I assure you-No, no, it   Sir F. Ha, ha, ha!-very good!
don't fall off.                                Sneer. That as to comedy you have not one
Dang. Now, Mrs. Dangle, did'nt you say it idea of your own, he believes, even in your comstruck you in the same light?                mon place-book, where stray jokes, and pilfered
Mrs. D. No, indeed, I did not-I did not see a witticisms, are kept with as much method as the
fault in any part of the.play from the beginning ledger of the lost-and-stolen-office.
to the end.                                    Sir F. Ha, ha, ha!-very pleasant!
Sir F. Upon my soul, the women are the best   Sneer. Nay, that you are so unlucky as not to
judges after all!                           have the skill even to steal with taste:-But that
Mrs. D. Or, if I made any objection, I am sure you glean from the refuse of obscure volumes,
it was to nothing in the piece! but that I was where more judicious plagiarists have been before
afraid it was, on the whole, a little too long.  you; so that the body of your work is a composiSir F. Pray, Madam, do you speak as to dura- tion of dregs and sediments-like a bad tavern's
tion of time; or do you mean that the story is worst wine.
tediously spun out?                           Sir F. Ha, ha!
Mrs. D. 0 lud! no.-I speak only with refer-   Sneer. In your more serious efforts, he says,
ence to the usual length of acting plays.    your bombast would be less intolerable, if the
Sir F. Then I am very happy-very happy, thoughts were ever suited to the expression; but
indeed-because the play is a short play, a re- the homeliness of the sentiment stares through
markably short play: I should not venture to dif- the fantastic encumbrance of its fine language,
fer with a lady on a point of taste; but, on these like a clown in one of the new uniforms.
occasions the watch, you know, is the critic.  Sir F. Ha, ha!
Mrs. D. Then, I suppose, it must have been    Sneer. That your occasional tropes and flowers
M!r. Dangle's drawling manner of reading it to suit the general coarseness of your style, as tamme.                                          bour sprigs would a ground of linsey-woolsey;
Sir F. 0, if Mr. Dangle read it! that's quite while your imitations of Shakspeare resemble the
another affair!-But I assure you, Mrs. Dangle, mimicry of Falstaff's page, and are about as near
the first evening you can spare me three hours the standard of the original.
and a half, I'll undertake to read you the whole   Sir F. Ha!from beginning to end, with the prologue and    Sneer. In short, that even the finest passages
epilogue, and allow time for the music between you steal are of no service to you; for the poverty
the acts.                                    of your own'language prevents their assimilating!
SlCIrs. D. I hope to see it on the stage next.    so that they lie on the surface like lumps of marl
Dan7g. Well, Sir Fretful, I wish you may be on a barren moor, encumbering what it is not in
able to get rid as easily of the newspaper criticisms their power to fertilize!
as you do of ours.-                            Sir F. [After great agitation.] —Now  anSir F. The newspapers! Sir, they are the other person would be vexed at this.
most villanous-licentious-abominable-infernal   Sneer. Oh! but I wouldn't have told you, only
- Not that I ever read them-No-I make it a to divert you.
rule never to look into a newspaper.           Sir F. I know it-I am diverted,-Ha, ha, ha!
Dang. You are quite right-for it certainly -not the least invention!.Ha, ha, ha! very
must hurt an author of delicate feelings to see the good!-very good!
liberties they take.                           Sneer. Yes —no genius! Ha, ha, ha!
Sir F. No! —quite the contrary; their abuse   Dang. A severe rogue! Ha, ha, ha! But you
is, in fact, the best panegyric-I like it of all things. are quite right, Sir Fretful, never to read such
-An author's reputation is only in danger from  nonsense.
their support.                    I            Sir F. To be sure-for if there is any thing to
Sneer. Why that's true-and that attack now  one's praise, it is a foolish vanity to be gratified
on you the other day —-                      at it, and if it is abuse,-why one is always sure
Sir F. What? where?                      to hear of it from one damned good natured friend
Dang. Ay, you mean in a paper of Thursday; or another!
tt was completely ill-natured to be sure.                  Enter SERVANT.
Sir F. O, so much the better-Ha, ha, ha!1 wouldn't have it otherwise.                  Serv. Mr. Puff, Sir, has sent word, that the
Dang. Certainly it is only to be laughed at; last rehearsal is to be this morning, and that he'll
for-                                         call on you presently.
Sir F. You don't happen to recollect what the   Dang. That's true-I shall certainly be at
ellow said, do you?                          home. [Exit SERVANT.] Now, Sir Fretful, it
Sneer. Pray, Dangle-Sir Fretful seems a lit- you have a mind to have justice done you in the
lie anxious-                                 way of answer-'Egad, Mr. Puff's your mar
47*




558                               THE  CRITIC.                                  [ACT I.
Sir F. Pshaw! Sir, why should I wish to have   Puff. Ay!-Then that must have been affiec
it answered, when I tell you I am pleased at it?  tation in them; for,'egad, there were some of the
Dang. True, I had forgot that.-But I hope attacks which there was no laughing at.
you are not fretted at what Mr. Sneer-         Sneer. Ay, the humorous ones-But I should
Sir F. Zounds! no, Mr. Dangle, don't I tell think, Mr. Puff; that authors would in general be
you these things never fret me in the least.  able to do this sort of work for themselves.
Dang. Nay, I only thought-                   Puff. Why, yes-but in a clumsy way.-BeSir F. And let me tell you, Mr. Dangle,'tis sides, we look on that as an encroachment, and so
damned affronting in you to suppose that 1 am  take the opposite side.-I dare say now you conhurt, when I tell you I am not.              ceive half the very civil paragraphs and advertiseSneer. But why so warm, Sir Fretful?      ments you see, to be written by the parties conSir F. Gadslife! Mr. Sneer, you are as absurd cerned, or their friends.-No such thing-Nine
as Dangle; how often must I repeat it to you, that out of ten, manufactured by me in the way of
nothing can vex me but your supposing it possi- business.
ble for me to mind the damned nonsense you have   Sneer. Indeed!been repeating to me! —and let-me tell you, if you   Pu.{. Even the auctioneers now-the  auccontinue to believe this, you must mean to insult tioneers, I say, though the rogues have lately got
me, gentlemen-and then your disrespect will af- some credit for their language-not an article of
feet me no. more than the newspaper criticisms- the merit theirs!-take them out of their pulpits,
and I shall treat it —with exactly the same calm  and they are as dull as catalogues!- No, Sir;
indifftrence and philosophic contempt-and so -'twas I first enriched their style-'twas I first
your servant.                         [Exit. taught them to crowd -their advertisements with
Sneer. Ha, ha, ha. Poor Sir Fretful! Now  panegyrical superlatives, each epithet rising above
will he-go and vent his philosophy in anonymous the other-like the bidders in their own auctionabuse of all modern critics and authors —But, rooms! From  me they learned to inlay their
Dangle, you must get your friend Puff to take me phraseology with variegated chips of exotic metato the rehearsal of his tragedy.             phor: by me too their inventive faculties were
Daeng I'll answer for't, he'll thank you for called forth.-Yes, Sir, by me they were instructdesiring it.-I'faith, Sneer, though, I am afraid ed to clothe ideal walls with gratuitous fruits-to
we were a little too severe on Sir Fretful-though  insinuate obsequious rivulets into visionary groves
he is my friend.                             -to teach courteous shrubs to nod their approbaSneer.'Why,'tis certain, that unnecessarily to tion of the grateful soil! or on emergencies to
mortify the vanity of any writer, is a cruelty raise upstart oaks, where there never had been an
which mere dulness never can deserve; but where acorn; to create a delightful vicinage without the
a base and personal malignity usurps the place of assistance of a neighbour; or fix the temple of
literary emulation, the aggressor neither deserves Hygeia in the. fens of Lincolnshire!
quarter nor pity.                              Dang. I am sure you have done them infinite
Dang. That s true,'egad!-though he's my service; for now, when a gentleman is ruined, he
friend! i                                   parts with his house with some credit.
Enter SERVANT.                   Sneer. But pray, Mr. Puff, what first put you
Serv. Mr. Puff, Sir  on exercising your talents in this way 
Dang. My'dear Pff!                           Puff.'Egad, Sir-sheer necessity-the proper
parent of an art so nearly allied to invention: you
Enter. PUFF.                 must know, Mr. Sneer, that from the first time I
Puff. My dear Dangle, how is it with you?   tried my hand at an advertisement, my success
Dang. Mr. Sneer, give me leave to introduce was such, that for some time after, I led a most
Mr. Puff to you.                             extraordinary life indeed!
Puff. Mr. Sneer is this? Sir, he is a gentle-   Sneer. How, pray?
man whom I have long panted for the honour of   Puf. Sir, I supported myself two years entireknowing-a gentleman whose critical talents and ly by my misfortunes..
transcendent judgment-                         Sneer. By your misfortunes?
Sneer. Dear Sir —                            Puff. Yes, Sir, assisted by long sickness, and
Dang. Nay, don't be modest, Sneer, my friend other occasional disorders; and a very comfortable
Puff only talks to you in the style of his profession. living I had of it.
Sneer. His profession!                       Sneer. From sickness and misfortunes!
Puff. Yes, Sir; I make no secret of the trade   Pu.qf. Harkye! By advertisements,!" To the
I follow-among friends and brother authors, charitable and humane!" and "To those whom
Dangle knows I love to be frank on the subject, Providence hath blessed with affluence 1"
and  to advertise myself viva voce.-I am, Sir, a   Sneer. Oh,-I understand you.
practitioner in panegyric, or to speak more plainly    Puff. And, in truth, I deserved what I got;
-a professor of the art of puffing, at your service for I suppose never man went through such a
-or any body else's.                        series of calamities in the same space of time.Sneer. Sir, you are very obliging!-I believe, Sir, I was five times made a bankrupt, and reMr Puff, I have often-admired your talents in the duced from a state of affluence, by a train of un
daily prints.                                avoidable misfortune! then, Sir, though a very
Puff. Yes, Sir, I flatter myself I do as much industrious tradesman, I was twice burnt out, and
husiness-in that way as any six of the fraternity lost my little all, both times! —  lived upon those
in town-Devilish hard work all the summer- fires a month.-I soon after was confined by a
Friend Dangle! never worked  harder!-But most excruciating disorder, and lost the use of my
harKye,-the winter managers were a little sore, limbs! —That told very well; for I hid the case
I believe.                                   strongly attested, and went about collecting the
Dang. No-I believe they tookitall in good part. subscriptions myself.




SOENE I.j                       THE  CRITIC.                                      559
Dang,.'Egad, I believe that was when you -the wonderful abilities of the painter, or the infrst called on me-                           credible exertions of all the performers!Puff. What-in November last -O no!-I   Sneer. That's pretty well, indeed, Sir.
was, when I called on you, a close prisoner in the  ~Puff. Ocool-quite cool-to what I sometimes
Marshalsea, for a debt benevolently contracted to do.
serve a friend!-I was afterwards twice tapped:  Sneer. And do you think there are any who
for a dropsy, which declined into a very profitable are influenced by this 2
consumption!-I was then reduced to-O no-  Pu f. O, lud! yes, Sir;-the number of those
then, I became a widow with six helpless children, who undergo the fatigue of judging for them-after having had eleven husbands pressed, and selves is very small indeed!
being left every time eight months gone with child,   Sneer. Well, Sir-the Puff preliminaiy 3.
and without money to get me into an hospital!  Puff. O that, Sir, does well in the form of a
Sneer. And you bore all with patience, I make caution.-In a matter of gallantry now-Sir
no doubt 3                                   Flimsy Gossimer wishes to be well with Lady
Puff. Why, yes,-though I made some occa- Fanny Fete-He applies to me-I open trenches
sional attempts at felo de se; but, as I did not for him with a paragraph in the Morning Post.
find those rash actions answer, I left off killing  -It is recommended to the beautiful and acmryself very soon.-Well, Sir,-at last, what with complished Lady F four stars F dash.E to be on
bankruptcies, fires, gouts, dropsies, imprisonments, her guard against that dangerous character, Sir F
and other valuable calamities, having got together dash G; who, however pleasing and insinuating
a pretty handsome sum, I determined to quit a his manners may be, is certainly not remarkable
business which had always gone rather against for the constancy of his attachments!-in italics.
my conscience, and in a more liberal way still to -Here you see, Sir Flimsy Gossimer is introindulge my talents for fiction and embellishment, duced to the particular notice of Lady Fannythrough my favourite channels of diurnal com- who perhaps never thought of him before-she
munication-and so, Sir, you have my history.   finds herself publicly cautioned -to avoid him,
Sneer. Most obliginglycommunicative, indeed; which naturally makes her desirous of seeing him;
and your confession, if published, might certainly -the observation of their acquaintance causes a
serve the cause of true charity, by rescuing the pretty kind of mutual embarrassment, this promost useful channels of appeal to benevolence duces a sort of sympathy of interest-which, if
from the cant of imposition.-But surely, Mr. Sir Flimsy is unable to improve effectually, he at
Puff, there is no great mystery in your present least gains the credit of having their names menprofession?                                 tioned together, by a particular set, and in a parPuff. Mystery! Sir, I will take upon me to ticular way,-which, nine times out of ten, is the
5ary the matter was never scientifically treated, nor full accomplishment of modern gallantry.
reduced to rule before.                        Dang.'Egad, Sneer, you will be quite an adepl
Sneer. Reduced to rule?                   in business.
Puff. 0 lud, Sir! you are very ignorant, I am    Puf. Now, Sir, the Puff collateral is much
afraid.-Yes, Sir,-Puffing is of various sorts:-  used as an appendage to advertisements, and may
the principal are, the Puff direct-the Puff pre- take the form of anecdote.-Yesterday, as the.inmmary-the Puff' collateral-the Puff collusive celebrated George Bon-M ot was sauntering down
-and the Puff oblique, or Puff by implication.- St. James' street, he met the lively Lady M.Aary
These all assume, as circumstances require, the Myrtle, coming out of the Park.-" Good God,
serious forms of Letter to the Editor-Occasional Lady Mary, I'm surprised to meet you in a white
Anecdote-Impartial Critique-Observation from  jacket,-for I expected never to have seen you.
rCorrespondent,-or Advertisement from the Party. but in a full trimmed uniform and a light-horse
Sneer. The Puff direct I can conceive.    man's cap!"-" Heavenls, George, where could
Puff. O yes, that's simple enough,-for in- you have learned that`"-, Why," replied the
-stance-A new comedy or farce is to be produced  wit, "I just saw a print of you in a: new publicaat one of the theatres (though by the bye they tion called the Camp Magazine, which by the bye
don't bring out half what they ought to do:) the is a devilish clever thing,-and is sold at No. 3
author, suppose Mr. Smatter, or Mr. Dapper-or on the right-hand of the way, two doors front the
-any particular friend of mine-very well; the day printing-office, the corner of Ivy-lane, Paternosbefore it is to be performed, I write an account of ter-row, price only one shilling!"
the manner in which it was received-I have the   Sneer. Very ingenious, indeed!
plot frorn the author,-and only add-Characters   Puff. But the Puff collusive is the newest of
strongly drawn-highly coloured-hand of a mas- any; for it acts in the disguise of determined hoster —und of genuine humour-mine of inven- tility.-It is much used by bold booksellers and,ion-neat dialogue-attic salt! Then for the per- enterprising poets.-An indignant correspondent
iormance-Mr. Dodd was astonishingly great in observes-that the new poem called Beelzebub's
the character of Sir Harry! That universal and Cotillon, or Proserpine's Fete Champetre, is one
judicious actor, Mr. Palmer, perhaps never ap- of the most unjustifiable performances he ever,~o,,,cca;i more advantage than in the colonel; but read! The severity with which certain characters
it is not in the power of language to do justice to are handled is quite shocking! And as there are
Mr King.-Indeed he more than merited those many descriptions in it too warmly coloured for
Hrepeated bursts of applause which he drew from a female delicacy, the shameful avidity with which
most brilliant and judicious audience! As to the this piece is bought by all people of fashion, is a
scenery-The  miraculous powers of Mr. De reproach on the taste of the times, and a disgrace
Loutherburgh's pencil are universally acknow- to the delicacy of the age!-Here you see the two
ledged!-In short, we are at a loss which to ad- strongest inducements are held forth; —First. that
mire most,-the unrivalled genius of the author, nobody ought to read it;-and,- secondly, that
the great attention and liberality of the managers every body buys it: on the strength of which, the




5-l                              THE  CRITIC.                                   [ACT I
Publisher boldly prints the tenth edition, before    Puff. Love -Oh nothing so easy: for it is a
_.e had sold ten of the first; and then establishes received point among poets, that where history
is by threatening himself with the pillory, or ab- gives you a good heroic outline for a play, you
bolutely indicting himself for scan. mag.!  may fill up with a little love at your own discre.
~ Dang. Ha, ha, ha!-'egad, I know it is so.   tion: in doing which, nine times out of ten, yo.
Pron. As to the Puff oblique, or Puff by im- only make up a deficiency in the private history
plicatlon, it is too various and extensive to be il- of the times. Now I rather think I have done
iustrated by an instance; it branches intoso many  this with some success.
varieties. that it is the last principal class of the    Sneer. No scandal about queen Elizabeth, I
art of puffing-An art which I hope you will hope? 
now agree with me, is of the highest dignity.-  Puff 0, lud! no, no.-I only suppose the
Sneer. Sir, I am completely a convert both to governor of Tilbury Fort's daughter to be in love
the importance and ingenuity of your profession; with the son of the Spanish admiral.
and now, Sir, there is but one thing which can    Sneer. 0, is that all?
possibly increase my respect for you, and that is   Dang. Excellent, i'faith! I see it at once.your permitting me to be present this morning at But wont this appear rather improbable I
the rehearsal of your new trage-               Puf  To be sure it will-but what the plague!
Puff. -Hush, for Heaven's sake.-Mytrage- a play is not to show occurrences that happen
dy'!-'Egad, Dangle, I take this veryill-you know  every day, but things just so strange, that though
how apprehensive I am of being known to be the they never did, they might happen.
author.                                        Sneer. Certainly nothing is unnatural, that is
Dang. I'faith I would not have told-but it's not physically impossible.
it the papers, and your name at length-in the    Puff. Very true-and for that matter Don
Morning Chronicle.                           Ferolo Whiskerandos-for that's the lover's name,
Puff A h! those damned editors never can keep might have been over here in the train of the
a secret!-Well, Mr. Sneer-no doubt you will Spanish ambassador; or Tilburina, for that is the
dto me great honour-I shall be infinitely happy lady's name, might have been in love with him,
-highly flattered-                           from having heard his character, or seen his picDang. I believe it must be near the time-shall ture; or from knowing that he was the last man
we go together?                             in the world she ought to be in love with-or for
Puff. No; it will not be yet this hour, for they  any other good female reason.-However, Sir, the
are always late at that theatre: besides, I must fact is, that though she is but a knight's daughter,
meet you there, for I have some little matters here'egad! she is in love like any princess!-her poor
to send. to the papers. and a few paragraphs to susceptible heart is swayed to and fro, by contendscribble before I go. [Looking at memorandums.] ing passions like-Here is "a Conscientious Baker, on the Sub-           Eiter UNDER PROMPTER.
ject of the Army Bread;" and " a Detester of visiile Brick-work, in favour of the new invented    Under Prom. Sir, the scene is set, and every
Stucco;" both in the style of Junius, and promis- thing i ready to begin, if you please.ed for to-morrow.-The Thames Navigation too   Plff'Egad; then we'll lose no time.
is at a stand.-Misomud or Anti-shoal must go to    Under Prom. Though I believe, Sir, you will
work again directly.-Here too are some political find it very short, for all the performers have
memorandums, I see; ay-to take Paul Jones, and  profited by the kind permission you gave them.
get the Indiamen out of the Shannon-reinforce    Puff. Hey! what!
Byron-compel the Dutch to-so! I must do that    Under Prom. You know, Sir, you gave them
in the evening papers, or reserve it for the Morn- leave to cut out or omit whatever they found heavy
ing Herald, for I know that I have undertaken  or unnecessary to the plot; and I must own they
to-morrow, besides, to establish the unanimity of have taken very liberal advantage of your induthe fleet in the Public Advertiser, and to shoot gence.
Charles Fox in the Morning Post.-'egad, I   Puff Well, well.-They are in general very
ha'n't a moment to lose!                    good judges; and I know I am luxuriant.-Now,
Dang. Well!-we'll meet in the green room.  Mr.  opkins, as soon as you please.
[Exeunt severally  nder Prom. to Mlusic. Gentlemen, will you
play a few bars of something. just toACT II.                       Puf. Ay, that's right,-for as we have the
scenes and dresses,'egad, we'll go to't, as if it was
SCENE I.-The Theatre,               the first night's performance; —[Exit UNDER
DANGLE, PUFF, and SNEER, as before t/ie curtain. PROMPTER; Orchestra play; then the bell rings.]
Soh! stand clear, gentlemen. —Now  you know
Puff No, no, Sir; what Shakspeare says of ac- there will be a clar, gentlemen-N!-own!-hats off
tors may be better applied to the purpose of plays;   siltherne!-Th    a cry of down -down lehats see what
they ought to be " the abstract and brief chronicles
of the times."  Therefore when history, and par- our painters have done for us.
ticularly the history of our own country, furnishes   SCENE II.- Tilbury Fort.
any thing like a case in point, to the time in which
an author writes, if he knows his own interest, he
will take advantage of it; so, Sir, I call my tragedy    Dang. Tilbury Fort!-very fine indeed!
The Spanish Armada; and have laid the scene    Puff. Now, what do you think I open with?
before Tilbury Fort.                           Sneer. Faith, I can't guessSneer. A most happy thought, certainly!      Puff. A clockDang.'Egad it was-I told you so.-But pray    Sneer. A clock!
now I don't understand how you have contrived    Puff. Hark!-[Clock strikes.]. I open with a
to introduce any love into it.               clock striking, to beget an awful attention in the




SCNE IT 1                        T H E CRITIC..561
audience-it also marks the time, which is four And three revolving moons, have closed their
o'clock in the morning, and saves a description of   course,
the rising sun, and a great deal about gilding the Since haughty Philip, in despite of peace,
eastern hemisphere.                          With hostile hand hath struck at England's trade..Dang. But, pray, are the sentinels to be asleep?   "S ir C. 1 know it well.
Puff. Fast as watchmen.                      "Sir W. Philip, you know is proud Iberia's
Sneer. Isn't that odd though at such an alarm-   "Sir C. He is.                  [king!
ing crisis?                                    "Sir W1: - His subjects in base bigotry
Puff. To be sure it is,-but smaller things must And Catholic oppression held- while we,
give way to a striking scene at the opening; that's You know, the Protestant persuasion hold.
a rule.-And the case is, that two great men are   "Sir C. We do.                   [ment,
coming to this very spot to begin the piece; now,   "Sir W. You know besides-his boasted armait is not to be supposed they would open their The fam'd armada-by the pope baptized,
lips, if these fellows were watching them; so, With purpose to invade these realms-'egad, I must either have sent them off their posts,   " Sir C. - Is sailed,
or set them asleep.                          Our last advices so report.           [hope,
Sneer. 0 that accounts for it!-But tell us,   " Sir W. While the Iberian admiral's chief
who are these coming 1                       His darling son, by chance a pris'ner hath been
Puff. These are they-Sir Walter Raleigh, And in this fort of Tilbury-            [ta'en,
and Sir Christopher Hatton.-You'll know Sir   " Sir C. - Is now
Christopher, by his turning out his toes-famous Confin'd.
you know for his dancing. I like to preserve all   " Sir  E.: You also know-"
the little traits of character.-Now attend.    Dang. Mr. Puff: as he knows all this, why
does Sir Walter go on telling him?
CH Enter  SITOR  WALTER RALEIGH  and SR Puff. But the audience are not supposed to
CHRISTOPHER HATTON.               know any thing of the mattpr, are they?
"Sir C. True, gallant Raleigh!"-            Sneer. True, but I think vou manage ill: for
Dang. What, they had been talking before?   there certainly appears no reason why Sir Walter
Puzff 0 yes; all the way as they came alonhg. should be so communicative.
-I beg pardon, gentlemen, [ To the Actors.] but   Puff.'Egad, now, that is one of the most unthese are particular friends of mine, whose re- grateful observations I ever heard; for the less inmarks may be of great service to us.-Don't mind ducement he has to tell all this, the more, I think,
interrupting them  whenever any thing strikes you ought to be obliged to him; for I am sure
you.                [ To SNEER and DANGLE. you'd know nothing of the matter without.
"Sir C. True, gallant Raleigh!               Dang. That's very true, upon my word.
But 0, thou champion of thy country's fame,    Puff. But you will find he was not going on.
There is a question which I yet must ask;      " Sir C. Enough, enough-tis plain-and 1 no
A question, which I never ask'd before-      Am in amazement lost!-g"             [more
What mean these mighty armaments?             Puff. Here, now you see, Sir Christopher did
This general muster? and this throng of chiefs." not in fact ask any one question for his own inSneer. Pray, Mr. Puff, how came Sir Chris- formation.
topher Hatton never to ask that question before?    Sneer. No indeed;-his has been a most disPuff. What, before the play began? how the interested curiosity!
plaque could he?                              Dang. Really, I find, we are very much obliged
Dang. That's true, i'faith!               to them both.
Puff. But you will hear what he thinks of the    Puff. To be sure, you are. Now then for the
matter.                                      commander-in-chief, the earl of Leicester! who,
" Sir C. Alas, my noble friend-"           you know, was no favourite but of the queen'sPuff. Sir Christopher, pray turn ou.t your toes. We left off-" in amazement lost!"
Sir Christopher Hatton was famous for dancing    "Sir C. Am in amazement lost.
well.                                        But, see where noble Leicester comes! supreme
" Sir C. When I behold                     In honours and command."
Yon tented plains in martial symmetry          Sneer. But who are these with him?
Array'd-When I count o'er yon glittering lines   Puff. 0! very valiant knights; one is the govOf crested warriors,-                        ernor of the fort, the other the master of the horse.
When briefly all I hear or see bears stamp   -And now, I think, you shall hear some better
Of martial vigilance, and stern defiance,    language: I was obliged to be plain and intelligiI cannot but surmise,-forgive me, friend,    ble in the first scene, because there was so much
If the conjecture's rash-I cannot but       matter of fact in it; but now, i'faith, you have
Surmise-the state some danger apprehends!" trope, figure, and metaphor, as plenty as noun
Sneer. A very cautious conjecture that.   substantives.
Puff. Yes, that's his character; not to give an   "Enter EARL OF LEICESTER, the GOVERNOR,
opinion, but on secure grounds-now then.  
" Sir W. 0, most accomplish'd Christopher.-"                and others.
Puff. lHe calls him by his Christian name, to   "Leic. How's this, my friend! is't thus your
show that they are on the most familiar terms.       new-fledg'd zeal
"Sir W. 0, most accomplish'd Christopher, I And plumed valour moulds in roosted sloth?
Thy fears are just.                    [find  Can the quick current of a patriot heart,
" Sir C. But where? whence? when? and what Thus stagnate in a cold and weedy converse,
The danger is-Methinks I fain would learn.    Or freeze in tideless inactivity?
"Sir W. You know, my friends, scarce two No! rather let the fountain of your valour
revolving suns,                      Spring through each stream of enterprise,
VLor.. 1... 4 




562                               THE  C RI T I C.                             [AcaT i
Fach petty channel of conducive daring;        Sneer. Stay a moment.Till the full torrent of vour foaming wrath                      [" The SENTINELS get Usp.
O'erwhelm the flats of sunk hostility!         "1 Sent. All this shall to Lord Burleigh's ear
"Sir C. No more! the fresh'ning breath of   " 2 Sent.'Tis meet it should.
thy rebuke                                                  [Exeunt SENTINELS."
Hath fill'd the swelling canvass of our souls!  Dang. Hey, why I thought those fellows had
And thus, though fate should cut the cable of        been asleep.
Our topmost hopes, in friendship's closing line  Puff. Only a pretence, there's the art of it:
[ Take hands. they were spies of Lord Burleigh's. Take care,
We'll grapple with despair, and if we fall,  my dear Dangle, the morning gun is going to fire.
We'll fall in glory's wake.                    Dang. Well, that will have a fine effect.
" Leic. There spoke old England's genius!    Puff I think so, and helps to realize the scene.
Then, are we all resolved!                  — [Cannon three times.] What the plague —
" All. We are-all resolved!               three morning guns!-there never is but one I" Leic. To conquer   or be free'.        ay, this is always the way at the theatre-give
"All. To conquer-or be free.              these fellows a good thing, and they never know
" Leic. All?                               when to have done with it. You have no more
"All. All.";                              cannon to fire?
Dang. Nem. con.'egad!                      Prom. [From within.] No, Sir.
Puff. O yes, where they do agree on the stage,i  Puff. Now then, for soft music.
their unanimity is wonderful!                 Sneer. Pray what's that for?
"Leic. Then, let's embrace-and now-"    Puff. It,shows that Tilburina is coming; noSneer. What the plague, is he going to pray I thing introduces you a heroine like soft music.Puff.. Yes, hush!-in great emergencies, there Here she comes.
is nothing like a prayer!                      Dang. And her confidante, I suppose?
" Leic. 0 mighty Mars!-"                    Puff. To be sure: here they are-inconsolable,
Puff  Stop, my dear Sir, you don't expect to to the minuet in Ariadne!     [Soft music.
find Mars there. No, Sir, whenever you addressA ad CONFIANTE.
the gods, always look into the one-shilling gallery.
" Leic. 0 mighty Mars!-"                    "Til. Now flowers unfold their beauties to the
Dang. Why should he pray to Mars?                 sun,                          [them.
Puff. Hush!                                And, blushing, kiss the beam he sends to wake
"Leic. 0 mighty Mars! if in thy homage bred, The striped carnation, and the guarded rose,
Each point of discipline, I've still observ'd,  The vulgar wallflower, and smart gillyflower,
Nor but by due promotion, and the right      The polyanthus mean-the dapper daisy,
Of service, to the rank of major-general     Sweet-William, and sweet marjorum,-and all
Have ris'n; assist thy votary now!          The tribe of single and of double pinks!
" Gov. Yet do not rise-hear me!           Now too, the feather'd warblers tune their notes
" Master of Horse. And me!                 Around, and charm  the listening grove-The
"Knight. And me!                                   lark!                   [greenfinch 
"Sir W. And me!                            The linnet! chaffinch! bullfinch! goldfinch!
"Sir C. And me!"                          -But, oh, to me, no joy can they affobrd!
Puff. And me! Now, mind your hits, pray all Nor rose, nor wallflower, nor smart gillyflower,
together.                                    Nor polvanthus-mean, nor dapper daisy,
"All. Behold thy votaries submissive beg,  Nor William sweet, nor marjorum-nor lark,
That thou wilt deign to grant them  all they Linnet, nor all the finches of the grove!"
ask- "                                Puff. Your white handkerchief, Madam —
Puff. Give'em a longer all, next time.      Til. I thought, Sir, I wasn't to use that till
" All. Assist them tn accomplish all their ends, "heart rending wo."
And sanctify whatever means they use           Pugf. 0 yes, Madam-at "the finches of the
To gain them!"                              grove," if you please.
Sneer. A very orthodox quintetto!            " Til. Nor lark,
Puff. Vastly well, gentlemen.-Is that well Linnet, nor all the finches of the grove! [Weeps."
managed or not? have you such a prayer as that   Puff. Vastly well, Madam!
on the stage?                                 Dang. Vastly well, indeed!
Sneer. Not exactly.                         " Til. For, 0 too sure, heart rending wo is
1,eic. [To PUFF.] But, Sir, you haven't set- The lot of wretched Tilburina I"    [now
tled how we are to get off here.               Dang. 0!-'tis too much.
Puff. You could not get off kneeling, could   Sneer. Oh!-it is indeed.
you?                                          "Con. Be comforted, sweet lady — for who
Sir W. [ To PUFF.] 0 no, Sir! impossible!         knows,                       [store.
Puff. It would have a good effect, i'faith, if But Heaven has yet some rhilk-white day in
you could exeunt praying!-Yes, and would vary    "Til. Alas, my gentle Nora,
the established mode of springing off with a glance Thy tender youth, as yet, hath never mourn'd
at the pit. Just try.                        Love's fatal dart.
Sneer. 0 never mind, so as you get them off,   " Con. But see where your stern fathel comes;
I'll answer for it the audience wont care how.    It is not meet that he should find you thus."
Puff. Well then, repeat the last line standing,   Puff. Hey, what the plague! what a cut is
and go off the old way.                      here!-why, what is become of the description of
All. And sanctify whatev.er means we use to her first meeting with Don Whiskerandos? his
gain them."                        [Exeunt. gallant behaviour in the sea-fight, and the simile
Dang. Bravo! a fine exit.                 of the canary bird?




si feIL]                        THE  CRITIC.                                      563
Til. Indeed, Sir, you'll find they will not be   "Gov. --— Honour!
miss'd.                                        " Til. A pension!
Puff. Very well.-Very well!                  " Gov. - Conscience!
Til. The cue, Ma'am, if you please.          "Til. A thousand pounds.
" Con. It is not meet that he should find you   "Gov. Hah! thou hast touched me nearly!"
thus                          [task   Pu. There you see   she threw  in Til
T" l. Thou counsel'st right, but'tis no easy burina. Quick, parry carte with England! —
Fir barefac'd grief to wear a mask of joy.,  Hah! thrust in tierce, a title! parried by honour.
-   " Enter GOVERNOR.      — Hah! a pension over the arm! put by, by conscience.-T hen flanconade with a thousand
Gov. How's this-in tears?-O Tilburina, pounds-\.and a palpable hit,'egad!.
shame!' Til. Canst thou  - 
Is this a time for maudling tenderness,      Reject the suppliant, and the daughter too.And Cupid's baby woes?-hast thou not heard   " Gov. No more; I would not hear thee plead
That haughty Spain's pope-consecrated fleet          in vain
Advances to our, shores, while England's fate,    The father softens-but the governor,ike a. clipp'd guinea, trembles in the scale!  Is fix'd!                          [Exit
"Til. Then is. the crisis of my fate at hand!   Til.'Tis well,  hence then, fondhopes,] see the fleet's approach,. -I see     "           fond passion, hence;
Puff. Now pray, gentlemen, mind.-This is Duty, behold, I am all over thine-     [my —
ono of the most useful figures we tragedy writers   "Whisk. [Without.]  Where is my lo'eha ve, by which a hero or heroine, in consideration    " Til. - Ha 
of their being often obliged to overlook things that   "Whisk. [EnternLg.]  My beauteous enearn. on the stage, is allowed to hear and see a num-  my
her of things that are not.                  My conquering Tilburina? How:! is't thus'Sneer. Yes-a kind of poetical second-sight!  We meet? why are thy looks averse? what means
Puff. Yes-now then, Madam.                 That falling tear —that frown of boding wo 9
" Ti. I see their decks                    Hah! now indeed I am a prisoner!:
Are clear'd! —I see the signal made!        Yes, now I feel the galling weight of these
Thei line is form'd!-a cable's length asunder! Disgraceful chains-which, cruel Tilburina!
I see the frigates station'd in the rear;    Thy doting captive gloried in before.-.
And now I hear the thunder of the guns!      But thou art false, and Whiskerandos is undone!
I hear the victor's shouts-I also hear         " Til. 0 no; how little dost thou know thy
The vanquish'd groans! —and now'tis smoke           Tilburina!
-and now                              "Whisk. Art thou then true? Be gone, cares,
I see the loose sails shiverin the wind!  doubts, and fears,
I see —I see-what soon you'll see-           I make you all a present to the winds;
"Gov. Hold, daughter! peace.! this love hath And if the winds reject you-try the waves."
turn'd thy brain:                     Puff. The wind, you know, is the established
The Spanish. fleet thou canst not. see-because receiver of all stolen sighs, and cast-off griefs and
— It is not yet in sight!"                  apprehensions.
Dang.'Egad though, the governor seems to   " Til. Yet must we part?-stern duty seals
make no allowance for this poetical figure you       our doom:                  [witness,
talk of.                                     Though here I call yon conscious clouds to
Puff. No, a plain matter-of-fact man-that's Could I pursue the bias of my soul,
his character.                               All friends, all right of parents, I'd disclaim,
" Til. But will you. then. refuse his offer?  And thou, my Whiskerandos, should be father,'" Gov. I must-I will-I can —I ought-I do.  And mother, brother, cousin, uncle, aunt,
"Tit. His liberty is all he asks."        And friend to me!                  [we part?
Sneer.: All who asks, Mr. PuffS Who is-     " Whisk. 0 matchless excellence!-and must
Puff.'Egad, Sir, I can't tell-Here has been Well, if-we must —-we must-and in that
such cutting and slashing, I.don't know where The less is said the better."       [case
they have got to, myself..                   Puff. Hey-day! here's a cut! —What, are all
Til. Indeed, Sir, you will find it will connect: the mutual protestations out?.
very well.                                     il1. Now pray, Sir, don't interrupt us just
Puff. Oh,-if they hadn't been so devilish free here, you ruin our feelings.
withtheir cutting here, you would have found   Puff. Your feelings!-but zounds, my  feelings
that Don Whiskerandos has been tampering for Ma'am!                              
his liberty-and now pray observe. the conciseness   " Whisk. One last embrace.
with which the argument is conducted.'Egad,   "  Til. Now,-farewell, for ever.
the pro and con goes as smart as hits in a fencing    "'Whisk. For ever!
match. It is indeed a sort of small-sword logic,.  "Til. Ay, for ever.          [oing
which we have borrowed from the French.        Puff.'Sdeath and.fury!-Gads-life! Sir! Ma" Tl. A retreat in Spain!                 dam, if you go out without the parting look, you
" Go. -Outlawry here!                      might as well dance out-Here, here!
T' l. Your daughter's prayer!               Con. But pray, Sir, how am I to get off here?
" Gov. — Your father's oath I                Pu. You, pshaw! what the devil signifies
"Til. My lover!                           how you get off! edge away at the top, or where
s" Gov. -; —- My country!                 you will-[Pushes the CONFIDANTE 0/.] NOW,
T il.:Tilburina!                          Ma'am, you see" Gov.   -England I                          Til. We understand you, Sir.
Til. A  title!                           "Ay, for ever.




-564                            - T H E  CRITI C.                             [ACT uII
"Both. Oh!-"                                " Just. Attends the youth, whose most oppro.
[ Turning back and exeunt; scene closes.       brious fame                 [soldier'
Dang. 0 charming!                          And clear convicted crimes have stamp'd him
Puff. Hey!-'tis pretty well, I believe-you    "Const. He waits your pleasure, eager to repay
see, I don't attempt to strike out any thing new-   The bless'd reprieve that sends him to the fields
but I take it I improve on the established modes. Of glory, there to raise his branded hand
So, now for the under plot.                  In honour's cause.
Sneer. What the plague, have you another   "Just.'Tis wellplot 2                                       If'tis your worship's pleasure, bid him enter.
Puff. 0 Lord, yes-ever while you live, have    " Const. I fly, the herald of your will.
two plots to your tragedy.-The grand point in                              [Exit CONST."'
managing them, is only to let your under plot   Puff. Quick, Sir!
have as little connexion with your main plot as   Sneer. But, Mr. Puff, I think not only the
possible.-Now, Mr. Hopkins, as soon as you justice, but the clown, seems to talk in as high a
please.                                      style as the first hero among them.
Enter UNDER PROMPTER.                PUff. Heaven forbid they should not, in a free
country! —Sir, 1 am not for making slavish disUnder Prom. Sir, the carpenter says it is im- tinctions, and giving all the fine language to the
possible you can go to the park-scene yet.   upper sort of people.
Puff. The park-scene! No-I mean the de-   Dang. That's very noble in you, indeed.
scription scene here, in the wood.
Under Prom. Sir, the performers have cut it
out.                                           "Lady. Forgive this interruption, good my
Puff. Cut it out?                                  love;
Under Prom. Yes, Sir.                      But, as I just now pass'd a pris'ner youth,
Puff. What! the whole account of queen  Whom rude hands hither lead, strange bodings
Elizabeth?                                          seiz'd
Under Prom. Yes, Sir.                      My fluttering heart, and to myself I said,
Puff And the description of her horse and  An' if our Tom had liv'd, he'd surely been
side-saddle'l                                This stripling's height!              rects
Under Prom. Yes, Sir.                        " Just. Ha! sure some powerful sympathy diPuff. So, so, this is very fine indeed! Mr. Us bothHopkins, how the plague could you suffir this        " Enter SON and CONSTABLE.
Hop. [From within.] Sir, indeed, the prun- "What is thy name?                  [I none;
ing-knife-                                     " Son. My name's Tom Jenkins-alias, have
Puff. The pruning-knife-zounds, the axe! Though orphan'd, and without a friend!
why, here has been such lopping and topping, I   "Just. Thy parents?                [was,
sha'n't have the bare trunk of my play left pre-   "Son. My father dwelt in Rochester-and
sently.-Very well, Sir-the performers must do As I have heard-a fishmonger-no more."
as they please; but, upon my soul, I'll print it   Puff. What, Sir, do you leave out the account
every word.                                  of your birth, parentage, and education?
Sneer. That I would, indeed.                 Son. They have settled it so, Sir, here.
Puff. So! this is a pretty dilemma, truly!-    Puff Oh! oh!
Gentlemen-you must excuse me, these fellows   "Lady. Had he no other name?
will never be ready, unless I go and look after   "Son. I've seen a bill
them myself.                                 Of his, sign'd Tomkins, creditor.
Sneer. 0 dear Sir-these little things will h,Just. This does indeed confirm each circun.i
happen-                                      The gipsy told!-Prepare!            [stance
Puff. To cut out this scene! —but I'll print it   "Son. I do.
-'egad, I'll print it every word!  [Exeunt.   "Just. No orphan, nor without a friend, art
4CT'IW.                             thouI am thy father, here's thy mother, there
SCENE I.-Before the Curtain.           Thy uncle-this thy first cousin, and those
Enter Pu'r, SNEER, and DANGLE.         Are all your near relations!
Puff. Well, we are ready-now then for the    "Mother. O ecstasy of bliss!
lastices.                                      "Son. 0 most unlook'd for happiness!
[ They faint alternately in each others'
Curtain rises; JUSTICES, CONSTABLES, $c.               arms."
Puff. There, you see relationship, like murder,
Sneer. This, I suppose, is a sort of senate will out.
scene?                                        "Just. Now, let's revive-else were this joy
Puff Yes.-What, gentlemen, do you mean             too much!
to go at once to the discovery scene?       But come-and we'll unfold the rest within,
Just. If you please, Sir.                  And thou, my boy, must needs want rest and food.
Puff. 0 very well-harkye, I don't choose to  Hence may each orphan hope, as chance directs,
say any thing more, but, i'faith, they have man- To find a father-where he least expects!
gled my play in a most shocking manner!                                        [Exeunt."
Dang. It's a great pity!                    Puf. What do you think of that?
Puff. Now then, Mr. Justice, if you please.  Dang. One of the finest discovery scenes I ever
"Just. Are all the volunteers without?     saw.-Why, this under plot would have made a
" Const. They are,                         tragedy itself.
dome ten in fetters, and some twenty drunk.    Sneer. Ay, or a comedy either.




SCENE.]                         THE  CRITIC.                                      565
Puff. And keeps quite clear, you see, of the last fall a sacrifice to the hostile ambition of the
other.                                       Spanish monarchy.
Enter SCENEMAN, taking away the seats.      Sneer. The devil!-did he mean all that by
Puff. The scene remains, does it           shaking his head 
Scenem. Yes, Sir.                            Puff. Every word of it-If he shook his head
Puff. You are to leave one chair, you know.-as I taught him.
But it is alwavs awkward in a tragedy, to have aneer. O here are some of our old acquaintyou fellows coming in, in your playhouse liveries,
to remove things —I wish that could be managed       "Enter HATTON and RALEIGH.
better.                                        " Sir C. My niece, and your niece too!
"Enter a BEEFEATER.               By heaven! there's witchcraft in't-He could
"Beef. Perdition catch my soul, but I do love      not else'  ef   rii   ac       ol othee."    Have gain'd their hearts. But see where they
Sneer. Haven't I heard that line before?           approach;
Pff. No, I fancy not —Where, pray?         Some horrid purpose low'ring on their brows!
"Sir W. Let us withdraw, and mark them.
Dang. Yes, I think there is something like it
in Othello.                                                                     Withdraw."
Puff'Gad? now you put me in mind on't, I   Sneer. What i all this
believe there is-but that's of no consequence-all   Puff Ah! herre pruning!-bu
that can be said is, that two people happened to the fact is, these two young ladies are also in love
hit on the same thought-and Shakspeare made with Don.,  gentlemen,this
scene goes entirely for what we call situation and
use of it firstr. Very tharue's all.       stage effect, by which the greatest applause may
Puff. Now, Sir, your soliloquy-but speak be obtained, without the assistance of language,
more to the pit, if you please-the soliloquy al-  ntiment, or character: pray, mark'ways to the pit-that's a rule.                         "Enter the two NIECES.
"Beef. Though hopeless love finds comfort in    "I Niece. Ellena here!
[t never can endure a rival's bliss!        But see the proud destroyer of my peace.
But soft-1  amn observ'd.  [Exit BEEIEATER."   Revenge is all the good I've left.  [Aside.
t st [ am    yshort soliloquy.   "'2 Niaece. He comes, the false disturber of my
Dang. That's a very short soliloquy.iet.
Puif. Yes-but it would have been a great deal Now, vengeance, do thy worst-     [At.
longer, if he had not been observed.
Sneer. A most sentimental beefeater that, Mr.         "Enter WHISKERANDOS.
Puff.      Xy                                   "Whisk. O hateful liberty-if thus in vain 1
Puf>. Harkye-I would not have you be too seek my Tilburina!
sure he is a beefeater.
sure he is a beefeater.            "Both Nieces. And ever shalt!
Sneer. What, a hero in disguise?
Srneer.  What, a hero in disguise?           "[Sir C. and Sir W. come forward.] Holdt
Puff. No matter-I only give you a hint —But        we will avenge you.
now for my principal character-Here he comes
Whisk. Hold you-   or see your nieces
-Lord Burleigh in person! Pray, gentlemen, step      bleed.this way —softly-if he is but perfect!
"this way-softly-if he is but perfect!   [The two Nieces draw their two daggers to
Enter BURLEIGH, goes slowly to the chair,    strike Whiskerandos, the two Uncles at the inand sits.                  stant with. their two swords drawn catch their two
Sneer. Mr. Puff!                           Nieces' arms, and turn the points of their swords
Puff Hush! vastly well, Sir! vastly well! a to Whiskerandos, who immediately draws two
most interesting gravity!                   daggers, and holds them  to the tuwo Nieces'
Dang. What, isn't he to speak at all?     bosoms.]"
Puff'Egad, I thought you'd ask me that-    Puff There's situation for you! there's an
yes, it is a very likely thing-that a minister in heroic group! —you see the ladies can't stab
his situation, with the whole affairs of the nation  Whiskerandos-he durst not strike them for fear
on his head, should have time to talk!-but, hush i of their uncles-the uncles durst not kill him beor you'll put him out.                       cause of their nieces-I have them all at the dead
Sneer. Put him out! how the plague can that lock!-for every one. of them is afraid to let gro
be, if he's not going to say any thing?    first.
Puyf. There's a reason! why his part is to   Sneer. Why, then they must stand there for
think, and how the plague do you imagine he can  ever.
think if you keep talking?                    Puff: So they would, if I hadn't a very fine
Dang. That's very true, upon my word!     contrivance for't-Now mind
[BURLEIGH comes forward, shakes his head,
and exit.
and exit.                                " Enter BEEFEATER, with his halberd.
Sneer. He is very perfect, indeed-Now, pray    "Beef. In the queen's name, I charge you all
what did he mean by that?                           to drop
Puff. You don't take it  Your swords and daggers!
Sneer. No; I don't, upon my soul.                 [They drop their swords and daggers.'
Piff. Why, by that shake of the head, he gave   Sneer. This is a contrivance indeed.
you to understand that even though they had more   Puff*. Ay-in the queen's name.
justice in their cause, and wisdom in their mea-   "Sir C. Come, niece!
sures-yet, if there was not a greater spirit shown    "Sir W. Come, niece!
on the part of the people-the country would at                [Exeunt with the two Nas.I2
48




M6S                                 THE CRITIC.                                  [Ac Tn
" Whisk. What's he, who bids us thus re- j Enter TIBURINA and CONFIDANTE mad, accordnounce our guard'                                    ing to custom.
" Beef. Thou must do more-renounce thy    Sneer. But what the deuce, is the confidante
love!                                to be mad too.
" Whis.  Thou liest- 1hbase beefeater!        Puf: To be sure, she is: the confidante is al-'"LBeef. Ha! iHell!  the lie.               ways to do whatever her mistress does; weep
By Heaven, thou'st rous'd the lion in my heart!  when she weeps, smile when she smiles, go mad
Off, yeoman habit!-base disguise t off! off!  when she goes mad.-Now, Madam Confidante
[Discovers himself, by throwing off his up- -but keep your madness in the back ground, if
per d-ess, and appearing in a very you please.
fine waistcoat.                            Til. The wind whistles   the moon rises
Am I a beefeater now'                                 - see
Or beams my crest as terrible, as when        They have kill'd my squirrel in his cage!
In Biscay's Bay I took thy captive sloop!"   Is this a grasshopper?-Ha! no, it is my
Puf. There, egad! he comes out to be the very Whiskerandos-you shall not keep himcaptain of the privateer who had taken Whiske- I know you have him in your pocketrandos prisoner-and was himself an old lover of An oyster may be cross'd in love! —Who says'rilburina's.                                 A whale's a bird!-Ha! did you call, my love?
Dang. Admirably managed, indeed.            -He's here! He's there! —He's every
Puff Now, stand out of the way.                      where!
"Whisk. I thank thee, fortune! that hast thus Ah me! He's no where!   [Exit T'rLBURINA."
bestow'd                                PugJ.  There, do you ever desire to see any body
A weapon to chastise this insolent.           madder than that?
[ Takes up one of the swords.   Sneer. Never, while I live i And pray what be"Beef. I take thy challenge, Spaniard, and I comes of her?
thank                                   Puff. She is gone to throw herself into the sea,
Thee, fortune, too!-[ Takes up the other sword. to be sure-and that brings us at once to the
" Whisk. Vengeance and Tilburina!           scene of action, and so to my catastrophe-my
" Beqf. Exactly so-                         sea-fight, I mean.
[ They fight, and after the usual number qof    Sneer. What, you bring that in at last?
wounds given, WHISKERANDosfalls.        Puff. Yes —yes-you know my play is called
" Whisk. 0 cursed parry!-that last thrust in  the Spanish Armada, otherwise,'egad, I have no
tierce                                occasion for the battle at all.-Now then for my
Was fatal!   Captain, thou hast fenced well!  magnificence,-my battle!-my noise!-and my
And Whiskerandos quits this bustling scene    procession I-You are all ready'
For all eter-                                    Prom. [Within.] Yes, Sir.
" Bee.f -nity-he would have added, but   Puff. Is the Thames dressed?
stern death
Cut short his being, and the noun, at once! "      Enter THere I am,  to Attendants.
Pug O  my dear Sir, you are too slow;  Thmes. Here I am, Sir."
P   Puff. Very  well, indeed-See, gentlemen,
now mind me.-Sir, shall I trouble you to die Pth        er   well, inee ee, gentlemen
_again_                                       there's a river for you!': W7hisk. And Whiskerandos quits this bust-    Sneer. But, pray, who are these gentlemen isn
ling scene                            green with him 
For all eter                                     Puff. Those? —those are his banks.
"Beef. - nity-he would have added    "         Sneer. His banks'?
Puff. No, Sir-that's not it-once more, if    Puff. Yes, one crowned with alders, and the
you please.                                   other with a villa!-you take the allusions? but,
Whisk. I wish, Sir-you would practise this hey! what the plague! you have got both your
without me-I can't stay dying here all night.side-ere
Puff Very well, we'll go over it by and by-   while you live, Thames, go between your banks.
I must humour these gentlemen.                [Bell rings.]-There, soh! now  for't!-Stand
[E~X~it W~HSKERANDOS. aside, my dear friends!-away, Thames!
"Beef. Farewell-brave Spaniard, and when                 [Exit THAMES, between his banks,
next —"                               [Flourish of drums, trumpets, cannon, f.c. 4.c.Puff. Dear Sir, you needn't speak that speech,   scene changes to the sea-the fleets engageas the body has walked off                      the music plays' Britons,  strike Rome." —
Beef. That's true, Sir-then  I'll join  the    Spanish fleet destroyed by fire ships, 4.c. —*
fleet.                                          English fleet advances-music plays "Rule
Puff. If you please. [ExitBEEFEATER.] Now,   Britannia."-lThe procession of all the Enenter Tilburina, stark mad, in white satin.     glish rivers and their' tributaries, with their
Sneer. Why in white satin'                   emblems, 4.c. begins with Handel'swater -music,
Purfl'. 0 Lord, Sir-when a heroine goes mad;   ends with a chorus, to the'?arch in Judas
she always goes into white satin-don't she,   Mlaccabcvus.-During this scene, Puff directs
Dangle?                                        and applauds every thing-then
Dang. Always-it's a rule.                     Puff. Well, pretty well-but not quite perfect
Puff. Yes-here it is-[Looking at the book.] -so, ladies and gentlemen, if you please, we'll
enter Tilburina, stark mad in white satin, and  rehearse this piece again to-morrow.
her confidante stark mad in white linen.                                     [Curtain droyps




OROONOKO:
A TRAGEDY,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY THOMAS SOUTHERN.
REMARKS.
THE circumstance on which the better part of this drama is founded, is said to have actually occurred durln
the reign of Charles II. at Surinam, where an African prince, entrapped by the "mild subjects of a Christian
king and a Christian government," was brought and sold to slavery.
Oroonoko excites the warmest sympathy of his auditors; his love for Imoinda is tender, manly, noble, and
unpolluted; his firmness and resolution, truly heroic.
The loose and trivial nature of the comic characters, in which Southern has unfortunately yielded to the cot
rupt taste of the age wherein he wrote, has hitherto prevented the attraction of this play; but the talents of
Mr.-Kean, and the judicious alterations now made, are likely to procure it an ample share of public favour
DRAMATIS PERSONiE.
COVENT GARDEN, 1785.               DRURY LANE, 181"
ABOAN..................... Mr. Aicken.........r................ Rae.
LIEUTENANT GOVERNOR,.Mr. Davies.........                            Mr. Bengough
OROONOKO..Mr. Pope..................                                Mr. Kean.
BLANDFORD,.......................Mr. Hull            l........................ Mr. Barnard.
HOTMAN......................Mr. Thompson..........Mr. P. Cooke.
STANMORE,......................Mr. Cubitt.                          Mr. Kent.
JACK STANMORE,.................. Mr. Helme.
DANIEL,............. Mr. Quick.
CAPTAIN DRIVER,....Mr. Fearon..................... Mr. Smith.
WIDOw  LACKITT,..............   Mrs. Webb.........Miss Tidswell
CHARLOTTE WELDON,.........       Mrs. Bates.
LUCY WELDON...................rs. Inchbald.
IMOINDA,...............Miss Younge..........Miss Somerville
Planters, Indians, Negroes, Men, Women, and Children.
SCENE.-Surinam, a Colony in the West Indies; at the time of the action of this Tragedy in toe
possession of the English.
ACT  I.                       Lucy. Ay, say you so, indeed?
S CE NE  I.                      Char. But you have left dear London, you saypray what have you left in London that was very
Enter:CHARLOTTE WELdDON, in man's cloth-es,  dear to you, that had not left you before?
folloswing LUCY.                   Lury.  Speak for yourself, sister.
Lucy. What will this come to? what can it    Char. Nay, I'll keep you in countenance. The
end in   you have persuaded me to leave dear young fellows, you know, the dearest part of the
England, and dearer London, the place ofthe world town, and without whom London had been a wilmost worthy living in, to follow you, a husband- derness to you and me, had forsaken us a great
hunting, into America: I thought husbands grew  while.
in these plantations.                             Lucy. Forsaken us! I don't know that ever
Char. Why so they do, as thick as oranges they had us.
ripening one under another. Week after week    Char. Forsaken us the worst way, child; that
they drop into some woman's mouth.'Tis but a is, did not think us worth having; they neglected
little.patience, spreading your apron in expecta- us, no longer designed upon us, they were tired
tion, and one of'em will fall into your lap at last. of us. Women in London are like the rich silks
567




568                               OROONOKO.                                     [ACT I.
they are out of fashion a great while before they very busy upon these occasiuns, especially with
wear out-                                    the widows. But, if I am to be tempted, it must
Lucy. The devil take the fashion, I say.   be with a young man, I promise you-Mrs. Lucy,
Char. You may tumble them over and over at your brother is a very pleasant gentleman: I came
their first coining up, and never disparage their about business to him, but he turns every thing
price; but they fall upon wearing immediately, into merriment.
lower and lower in their value, till they come to   Char. Business, AzMrs. Lackitt' Then I know
the broker at last. To prevent which, with what you would have me to yourself  Pray, leave us
youth and beauty, were left some experience, and together, sister. [Exit Lucy.] What am I drawthe small remainder of fifteen hundred pounds a ing upon myself here?            [Aside.
piece, which amounted to bare two hundred be-  WTidow L. You have taken a very pretty house
tween us both, I persuaded you to bring your per- here, every thing so neat about you already. I
son for a venture to the Indies. Every thing has hear you are laying out for a plantation.
succeeded in our voyage: I pass for your brother:   Char. Why, yes, truly, I like the country, and
one of the richest planters here happening to die would buy a plantation, if I could, reasonably.
just as we landed, 1 have claimed kindred with    Widow L. O! by all means reasonably.
him: so without making his will, he has left us   Char. If I could have one to mly mind, I would
the credit of his relation to trade upon: we pass think of settling among you.
for his cousins, coming here to Surinam chiefly    Widoaw L. 0! you can't do better. Indeed we
upon his invitation; we live in reputation; have the can't pretend to have so good company for you as
best acquaintance in the place; and we shall see you had in England; but we shall nlake very
our account in't, I warrant you.             much of you. For my own part, I assure you, TI
Lucy. I must rely upon you-               shall think myself very happy to be mnore parEnter WIDow LACKIITT.             ticularly known to you.
Char. Dear Mrs. Lackitt, you do me too much
Widow L. Mr. Weldon, your servant. Your honour.
servant, Mrs. Lucy, I am an ill visitor, but'tis   Widow L. Then as to a plantation, Mr. WTeL
not too late, I hope, to bid you welcome to this don, you know I have several to dispose of Mr.
side of this world.           [Salutes LucY. Lackitt, I thank him, has left, though I say it, the
Char.'Gad so, I beg your pardon, widow, I richest widow upon the place; therefore I may
should have done the civilities of my house be- aflbrd to use you better than other people can.
fore: but, as you say,'tis not too late, I hope-    You shall have one upon any reasonable terms.
[Going to kiss her.  Mr. Weldon: well, I like that name of yours exWidow L. What! you think now this was a ceedingly, Mr. Weldon.
civil way of begging a kiss; and by my troth, if it   Char. My name!
were, I see no harm in't;'tis a pitiful favour in-  Wtidowz L. 0 exceedingly! If any thing could
deed that is not worth asking foir; though I have persuade me to alter my own name, I verily beknown a woman speak plainer before now, and lieve nothing in the world would do it so soon, as
not understood neither.                      to be called Mrs. Weldon.
Char. Not under my roof.  Have at you,   Char. I'm glad you like my name.
widow-                                         Widow L. Of all things. But then there's
Widow L. Why that's well said, spoke like a the misfortune, one cannot change one's name
younger brother, that deserves to have a widow.-  without changing one's condition.
[Kisses her.] You're a younger brother, I know,   Char. You hardly think it worth that. I boby your kissing.                             lieve.
Char. How so, pray?                         Widow L. Think it worth what, Sir? changWidow L. Why, you kiss as if you expected ing my condition! indeed, Sir, I think it worth
to be paid for't. You stick so close, there's no every thing. But alas! Mr. Weldon, I have
getting rid of you.                          buried my poor dear husband but six weeks;
Char. I am a-kin to a younger brother.     poor dear creature, I loved him sincerely:'tis too
Widow L. So mluch the better: we widows are soon to think of changing one's condition yet;
commonly the better for younger brothers.    indeed it is: pray, don't desire it of me: not but
Lucy. Better or worse, most of you. But you that you may persuade me to any thing, sooner
wont be much the better for him, I can tell you.  than any person in the world
[Aside.   Char. Who, 1, Mrs. Lackitt?
Char. I was a younger brother; but an uncle    Wicidow L. Indeed you may, Mr. Weldon,
of my mother's has maliciously left me an estate, sooner than any man living. Lord, there's a
and I'm afraid spoiled my fortune.           great deal in saving a decency: I never minded it
Tridow L. No, no; an estate will never spoil before. WVell, I am glad you spoke first, to exyour fortune; I have a good estate myself, thank cuse my modesty. MNow I will own to you, (but
Heaven, and a kind husband that left it behind I wont confess neither,) I have had a great re
him.                                         spect for you a great while. I beg your pardon,
Char. Thank Heaven that took him away from  Sir; and I must declare to you, indeed I must, if
it, widow, and left you behind him.          you desire to dispose of all 1 have in the world, in
TVidow L. Nay, Heaven's will must be done; an honourable way, my fortune and person, if you' le's in a better place.                    wont understand me without telling you so, are
Char. A better place for you, no doubt on't. both at your service,'gad so! another timeNow you may look about you; choose for yourself, Mrs. Lackitt, that's your business; for I know      Enter STANMORE.
you design to marry again.
Widow L. Nay, I'll do nothing rashly: I'll re-   Stan. So, Mrs. Lackitt, your widowhood's
solve against nothing. The devil, thev say, is weaning apace; I see which way'tis going.




eroimi  Um.]                     OROONOKO.                                      569
Weldon, you're a happy man. The women and    Char. You'll see whether it has flattered her
their favours come home to you.             or no, in a little time. If she be recovered of that
Widow L. A fiddle of favour, Mr. Stanmore; illness that was the reason of her staying behind
I am a lone woman, you know it, left in a great us, I know she will come with the first op.pordeal of business, and business must be followed or tunity. We shall see her, or hear of her death.
lost. I have several stocks and plantations upon    Stan. We'll hope the best. The ships from
my hands, and other things to dispose of, which England are expected every day.
Mr. Weldon may have occasion for.             Char. What ship is this?
Char. We were just upon the brink of a bar-   Stan. A rover, a buccaneer, a trader in slaves:
gain, as you came in.                       that's the commodity we deal in, you know. If
Stan. Let me drive it on for you.         you have a curiosity to see our manner of market,Char. So you must, I believe, you or somebody ing, I'll wait upon you.
for me.                                       Char. We'll take my sister with us.
Stan. I'll stand by you; I understand more of                               [Exeunt.
this business than you can pretend to.
Char. I don't pretend to it;'tis quite out of my  SCENE II.-An open Place.
way indeed.                                 Enter LEUTENANT-GOVERNOR  and BANDFORD.
Stan. If the widow gets you to herself, she will
certainly be too hard for you: I know her of old:   Lieut. There's no resisting your fortune,
she has no conscience in a corner; a very Jew in Blandford; you draw all the prizes.
a bargain.                                    Bland. I draw for our lord governor; you know
Char. Is this true, widow?                his fortune favours me.
TVidow L. Speak as you find, Mr. Weldon; I   Lieut. I grudge him nothing this time; but if
have offered you very fair! think upon't, and let fortune had favoured me in the last sale, the fair
me hear of you; the sooner the better, Mr. Wel- slave had been mine; Clemene had been mine.
don.                                [Exit.   Bland. Are you still in love with her 
Stant. I assure you, my friend, she'll cheat you   Lieut. Every day more in love with her.
f she can.
Char. I don't know that, but I can cheat her Enter C PTAIN DRIVER, teased and pulled about
f Pt~~~vill. ~~~~by WTIow  LACKIrTr and several PLANTERS, at
Stan. Cheat her!  how?                     one door; at another, CHARLOTTE WELDON,
Char. I can marry her; and then I am sure I   dressed in man's clothes, LUCME, SvXniMOR,
have it in my power to cheat her.             and JACK STANMORE.
Stan. Can you marry her?                   Widow L. Here have I six slaves in my lot,
Char. Yes, faith, so she says: her pretty person  and not a man among them; all women and
and fortune (which, one with the other, you children; what can I do with'em, captain?
know, are not contemptible) are both at my ser-   1 Plan. I have all men in mine. Pray, capvice.                                       tain, let the men and women be mingled together,
Stan. Contemptible! very considerable,'egad; for the good of the plantation.
very desirable; why, she's worth twenty thou-   2 Plan. Ay, ay, a man and a woman, captain,
sand pounds, man; a clear estate: no charge for the good of the plantation.
upon't, but a boobily son: he indeed, was to have    Capt. D. Let them mingle together, and be
half; but his father begot him, and she breeds damned; what care T. Would you have me a
him up not to know or have more than she has a pimp for the good of the plantation?
mind to.                                      1 Plan. I am a constant customer, captain.
Char. There's a great deal to be made of   HWidow L. I am always ready money to you,
this-                            [Musing. captain.
Stan. A handsome fortune may be made on't,   1 Plan. For that matter, mistress, my money
and I advise you to't by all means.       is as ready as yours.
Char. To marry her! an old wanton witch! I   Widow L. Pray hear me, captain.
hate her.                                     Capt. D. Look you, I have done my part by
Stan. No matter for that: let her go to the de- you; I have brought the number of slaves I barvil for you. She'll cheat her son of a good estate gained for; if your lots have not pleased you, you
for you; that's a perquisite of a widow's portion must draw again amlong yourselves.
always.                                      3 Plan. I am contented with my lot.
Char. I have a design, and will follow her at   4 Plan. I am very well satisfied.
least, till I have a pennyworth of the plantation.    3 Plan. We'll have no drawing again.
Stan. I speak as a friend, when I advise you    Widow L. Ay, butto marry her, for'tis directly against the interest   Capt. D. Do you hear, mistress? you may
of my own family. My cousin Jack has be- hold your tongue: for my part, I expect my molaboured her a good while that way.        ney.
Char. What! honest Jack? I'll not hinder    Widow L. Captain, nobody questions or scruhim. I'll give over the thoughts of her.   ples the payment: but I wont hold my tongue,
Stan. He'll make nothing on't; she does not'tis too much to pray and pay too: one may speak
care for him. I'm glad you have her in your power. for one's own. I hope.
Char. I may be able to serve him.          Capt. D. Well, what would you say?
Stan. Here's a ship come into the river; I was   Widow L. I say, no more than I can make out,
In hopes it had been from England.            Capt. D. Out with it, then.
Char. From England?                         Widow L. I say things have not been so fair
Stan. No; I was disappointed; I long to see carried as they might have been. How do I know
this handsome cousin of yours: the picture you but you have juggled together in my absence'
gave me of her has charmed me.              You drew the lots before I came, I'm sure.
VOL.I....4C       48*




570                               O RO ON:O-K.                                 I'cr L
Capt. D. That's your own fault, mistress;   Capt. D. I mean so too
you might have come sooner.                    Char. Why then your meaning's out.
Widow L. Then here's a prince, as they say,   Capt. D. You're very short.
among the slaves, and you set him down to go as   Char. I will grow, and be taller for you.
a common man.: Capt. D. I shall grow angry and swear.
Capt. D. 1'11 warrant you.                   Char. You'll catch no fish then.
Widow L. Sir, you're a scurvy fellow, to talk    Capt. -D. I don't well know whether he.eat this rate to me. If my husband were alive, signs to affront me or no.
gadsbodikins, you would not use me so. Marry  Stan. No, no, he's a little familiar;'tis his
come up here, who are you, I trow' You begin way.
to think yourself a captain, forsooth, because we   Capt. D.  Say you so. nay, I can be as fiacall you so. You forget yourself as fast as you miliar as he, if that be it. Well, Sir, look upon
can; but I remember you; I know you for a me full. WVhat say you' how do you like me for
pitiful, paltry fellow, as you are, an upstart to a brother-in-law'
prosperity; one that is but just come acquainted    Char. Why, yes, faith, you'll do my business,
with cleanliness, and that never saw five shillings [ Turning him about.] if we can agree about my
of your own without deserving to be hanged for sister's.'em.                                         - Capt D. I don't know whether your sister will
Lieut. She has given you a broadside, captain; like me or not: I can't say much to her; but I
you'll stand up to her.                      have money enough: and if you are her brother,
Capt.: D. Hang her, I'll come no nearer.   as you seem to be a-kin to her, I know that will
Widow L. By this good light, it would make a recommend me to you.
woman do a thing she never designed; marry    Char. This is your market for slaves; my sisagain, though she were sure to repent it, and be ter is a free woman, and must not -be disposed of
revenged of such a                           in public. You shall be welcome to my house, if
Jack S. What's the matter, Mrs. Lackitt; can you please; and, upon better acquaintance, if my
I serve you'  sister likes you, and I like your offers
Widow L. No, no, you can't serve me:. you    Capt. D. Very well, Sir, I'll come and see her.
are for serving yourself, I'm sure. Pray, go about   Lieut.; Where are the slaves, captain? they
your business. Lord! how can you be so trou- are long a coming.
blesome; nay, so unconscionable, to think that   Bland. And who is this prince that's fallen to
every rich widow must throw herself away upon my lot for the lord-governor 1 Let me know somea young fellow that has nothing'            thing of him, that I may treat him accordingly:
Stan. Jack, you are answered, I suppose.   who is he'
Jack S. I'll have another pluck at her.      Capt. D. He's the devil of a:fellow, I can tell
Widow L. Mr. Weldon, I am a little discon- you; a prince every inch of him: you have paid
certed; but pray bring your sister to dine with dear enough for him for all the good he'll do you: I
me.'Gads my life, I'm out of all patience with was forced to clap him in irons, and did not think
that pitiful fellow: my flesh rises at him; I can't the ship safe neither. You are in hostility with
stay in the place where he is.        [Exit. the Indians, they say; they threaten you daily:
Bland. Captain, you have used the widow very you had best have an eye upon him.
familiarly.                                    Bland. But who is he?
Capt. D. This is my way; I have no de-   Licut. And how do you know him to be a
sign, and therefore am not over civil. If she had prince'
ever a handsome daughter to wheedle her out of,   Capt. D. He is son and heir to the great king
or if I could make any thing of her booby of Angola, a mischievous monarch in those parts,
son-                                         who, by his good will, would never let any of his
Char. I may improve that hint, and make neighbours be in quiet. This son was his general,
something of him.                    [Aside. a plaguy fighting fellow! I have formerly had
Lieut. She's very rich.                    dealings with him for slaves, which he took priCapt.. D. I am rich myself. She has nothing soners, and have got pretty roundly by him; but.
that I want; I have no leaks to stop. Old women the wars being at an end, and nothing more to be
are fortune-menders. I have made a good voyage, got by the trade of that country, I made bold to
and would reap the fruits of my labour.; WVe bring the prince along with me.
plough the deep, my masters, but our harvest is   Lieut. How could you do that' 
on shore. I am for a young woman.              Bland. What! steal a prince out of his own
Stan. Look about, captain; there's one ripe, country! impossible!
and ready for the sickle.                      Capt. D.'Twas hard indeed; but I did it. You
Capt.  D. A woman, indeed. I will be ac- must know this Oroonokoquainted with her: who is she                  Bland. Is that his name'
Char. My sister, Sir,                        Capt D. Ay, Oroonoko.
Capt. D. Would I were a-kin to her; if she   Lieut. Oroonoko.
were my sister, she should never go out of the    Capt. D. Is naturally inquisitive about the
family.-What say you, mistress' you expect I men and manners of the white nations. Because
should marry you, I suppose'                I could give him some account of the other parts
Lucy. I' sha' n't be disappointed, if you don't.  of the world, I grew very much into his favour:
[ Turns away. in return of so great an honour, you know, I could
Char. She wont break her heart, Sir.       do no less, upon my coming away, than invite
Capt. D. But I mean-'  [Follows her. him on board me. Never having been in a ship,
Char. And I mean-[ Goes' between him and he appointed his time. and I prepared my enterLucY.] that you must not think of her without tainment. He came the next evening, as private.
marrying.                                    as he could, with about some twenty along with




S'CENE I.]                        O'-RO0N- OR KO.                              571',m. The punch went round. and as many of    Capt. D. I have the money; let the wor
his attendants as would be dangerous, I sent dead speak and be damned: I care not.
Irunk on shore; the rest we secured; and so you    Oro. I would forget myself. Be satisfied.
have the prince Oroonoko.                                                [ To BLANDFORD
Bland. Unheard of villany!                I am above the rank of common slaves.
Stan. Barbarous treachery!                 Let that content you. The Christian there tha
Lieut. But, captain, methinks you have taken       knows me.
agreat deal of pains for this prince Oroonoko; For his own sake will not discover more.
why did you part with him at the common rate    Capt. D. I have other matters to mind. You
of slaves ~:                                 have him, and much good may you do with yotu
Capt. D. Why, lieutenant-governor, I'll tell prince.    [Exit; the PLANTERS pulling andyou, I did design to carry him to England, to               staring at OROONOKO.
have showed him there; but I found him trouble-   Bland. What would you have there? You
some upon my hands, and I'm glad I'm rid of stare as if you never saw a man before. Stand
him- Oh, oh, hark, they come..           further off.              [Turns them away.
Oro. Let them stare on.
Enter Black Slaves, men, women, and children, I am unfortunate, but not asham'd
who pass across the Stage by two and two;       unfortunate, but not ashaguiltyblush:
ABOAN, and others of OaOONOKO'S attendants,   f being so. No, let the guilty blush:
ABtwo and twothers f OR last of attll in chains, The white man that betray'd me. Honest.black
wo and t    OOONOKO last o all, in chains. Disdains to change its colour. I am ready:
Lucy. Are all these wretches slaves.      Where must I go! Dispose me as you please.
Stan. All sold, they and their posterity, all I am not'well acquainted with my fortune,
slaves.                                      But must learn to know it better: so, I know you
Lutcy. 0 miserable fortune!                         say,
Bland. Most of them know no better; they Degrees make all things easy.
were born so, and only change their masters. But   Bland. All things shall be easy.
a prince, born only to command, betrayed and    Oro Tear off this pomp, and let me know
sold, my heart drops blood for him.                   myself
Capt. D. Now, governor, here he comes; pray, The slavisn habit best becomes me now.
observe him.                                 Hard fate, and whips, and chains, may overpower
Oro. So, Sir, you have kept your word* with The frailer flesh, and bow my body down:
me                                           But there's another, nobler part of me,
Capt. D. I am a better Christian, I thank you, Out of your reach, which you can never tame.
than to keep it with a heathen.                Bland. You shall find nothing of this wretchOro. You are a Christian; be a Christian still.    edness
If you have any god that teaches you         You apprehend. We are not monsters all.
To break your word, I need not curse you more: You seem unwilling to disclose yourself:
Let him cheat you, as you are false to me.   Therefore, for fear the mentioning your name
You faithful followers of my better fortune,  Should give you new disquiets, I presume
We have been fellow-soldiers in the field;   To call you Caesar.
[Embracinghisfrinds.     Oro. I am myself; but call me what you please.
Now we are fellow-slaves. This last farewell.  Stan. A very good name, Caesar.
Be sure of one thing that will comfort us,     Licut. And very fit for his character.
Whatever world we are next thrown upon         Oro. Was Caesar then a slave? 
Cannot be worse than this.                     Lieut. I think he was; to pirates too. He
[All the slaves go off, but ORooNoKo. was a great conqueror, but unfortunate in his
Capt. D. You see what a horrible Pagan he is, friendsgovernor; but I took care that none of his follow-   Oro. His friends were Christians?
ers should be in the same lot with him, for fear   Bland. No.
they should undertake some desperate action, to    Oro. No! that's strange.
thle danger of the colony.                     Lieut. And murder'd by'em.
Oro. Live still in fear; it is the villain's curse,   Oro. I would be Caesar then. Yet I will live.
And will revenge my chains: fear even me,      Bland. Live to be happier.
Who have no power to hurt thee.  Nature ab-   Oro. Do what you will with me.
hors,                                  Bland. I will wait upon you, attend, and serve
And drives thee out from the society,                you.           [Exit, with OROONOKO.
And commerce of mankind, for breach of faith.  Lucy. Well, if the captain had brought this
Men live and prosper but in mutual trust,    prince's country along with him, and would make
A: confidence of one another's truth:        me queen of it, I would not have him, after doing
That thou-hast violated. I have done:        so base a thing.
know my fortune, and submit to it.            Char. He's a man to thrive in the world, sisLieut. Sir, I am sorry for youfr fortune, and ter: he'll make you the better jointure.
would help it if I could.                      Lucy. Hang him, nothing can prosper with
Bland. Take off his chains. You know your him.
tondition; but y)u'are fallen into honourable   Stan. Inquire into the great estates, and you'll.ands: you are the lord-governor's slave, who will find most of them depend upon the same title of
use- you nobly': in his absence it shall be my care honesty; the men who raise them first, are much.o serve you.   [BLANDFORD applying to him. of the captain's principles.
Oro. I hear you, but I can believe no more.  Char. Ay, ay, as you say, let him be damned
Lieut. Captain, I'm  afraid the world wont for the good of his family. Come, sister. we are
speak so honourably of this action of yours, as invited to dinner.
you would have them.                           Lieut. Stanmore, you dine with me. [E-xeunr




572                               OROONOKO.                                     [Aer It.
ACT II.                      Jlidoa L  But, d'you hear? perhaps she may
stand upon her maidenly behaviour, and blush,
SCENE  I. —WIDow  LACKITT'S House.    and play the fool, and delay; but don't be anEnter WIDOW LACKITT, and CHARLOTTE WEL- swered so. What! she is not a girl at these
Do~, tn man's clothes.           years. Show your authority, and tell her roundly,
she must be married immediately. I'll manage
Char. This is so great a favour, I don't know  my son, I warrant you-      [Exit hastily
how to receive it.                             Char. The widow's in haste, 1 see: I thought
Widow L. 0 dear Sir! you know how to re- I had laid a rub in the road, about my sister; but
ceive, and how to return, a favour as well as any she has stepped over that. She's making way
body, I don't doubt it;'tis not the first you have for herself as fast as she can; but little thinks
had from our sex, I suppose.                 where she is going. I could tell her she i; going
Char. But this is so unexpected.           to play the fool; but people don't love to hear of
Widow L. Lord, how can you say so, Mr. their faults: besides, that is not my business at
Weldon 1 I wont believe you. Don't I know how  present.
handsome gentlemen expect every thing a woman
can do for you? and by my troth you're in the
right on't. I think one can't do too much for a So, sister, I have a husband for youhandsome gentleman; and so you shall find it.  Lucy. With all my heart. I don't know what
Char. I shall never have such an offer again, confinement marriage may be to the men, but I'm
that's certain. What shall I do? I am mightily sure the women have no liberty without it. I'm
divided-              [Pretending a concern. for any thing that will deliver me from the care
Widow L. Divided, 0 dear! I hope not so, of a reputation, which I begin to find impossible
Sir. If I marry, truly, I expect to have you to to. to preserve.
myself.                                        Char. I'll ease you of that care. You must be
Char. There's no danger of that, Mrs. Lack- married immediately.
itt: I am divided in my thoughts: my father upon   Lucy. The sooner the better; for I'm quite
his death-bed obliged me to see my sister disposed tired of setting up for a husband. The widow's
of, before I married myself.'Tis that sticks upon foolish son is the man, I suppose? 
me.                                            Char. I considered your constitution, sisterWidow L. Is that all?                     and, finding you would have occasion for a fool, i
Char. All in all to me. The commands of a have provided accordingly.
dying father, you know, ought to be obeyed.    Lucy. I don't know what occasion I may have
Widow L. And so they may.                 for a fool when I'm married; but I find none but
Char. Impossible, to do me any good.      fools have occasion to marry.
Widow L. They sha'n't be your hindrance.   Char. Since he is to be a fool then, I thought it
You would have a husband for your sister, you better for you to have one of his mother's making
say: he must be very well to pass too in the world, than your own;'twill save you the trouble.
I suppose.                                     Lucy. I thank you; you take a great deal of
Char. I would not throw her away.         pains for me; but, pray, tell me what you are
Widow L. Then marry her out of hand to the doing for yourself all this while?
sea-captain you were speaking of.              Char. You are never true to your own secrets,
Char. I was thinking of him, but'tis to no pur- and therefore I wont trust you with mine. Only
pose; she hates him.                         remember this, I am your eldest sister, and conWidow L. Does she hate him? nay,'tis no sequently, laying my breeches aside, have as
matter, an impudent rascal as he is; I would not much occasion for a husband as you can have. 1
advise her to marry him.                     have a man in my eye, be satisfied.
Char. Can you think of nobody else                       
Widow L. Let me see. Well, if I thought you  Enter WIDow  LACKITT, with her son DANIEL.
would like of it, I have a husband for her. What  WTidow L. Come, Daniel, hold up thy head,
do you think of my son?                     child; look like a man: you must not take it as
Char. You don't think of it yourself:     you have done.'Gads my life! there's nothing
Widow L. I protest but I do: I am in earnest, to be done with twirling your hat, man.
if you are: he shall marry her within this half   Dan. Why, mother, what's to be done then?
hour, if you'll give your consent to it.       Widow L. Why, look me in the face. and
Char. I give my consent! I'll answer for my mind what I say to you.
sister, she shall have him: you may be sure I   Dan. Marry, who's the fool then? What shall
shall be glad to get over the difficulty.    I get by minding what you say to me?
W'idow L. No more to be said then, that diffi-   Widow L. Mrs. Lucy, the boy is bashful, don't
culty is over: but I vow and swear you frightened discourage him; pray come a little forward, and
me, Mr. Weldon. If I had not had a son now  let him salute you.
for your sister, what must I have done, do you          [Going between-LucY and DANIEL,.
think? Were not you an ill-natured thing, to   Lucy. A fine husband I'am to have, truly.
boggle at a promise? I could break twenty for                           [To CHARLOTTE.
you.                                           Widow L. Come, Daniel, you must be acChar. I am the more obliged to you; but this quainted with this gentlewoman.
son will save all.                             Dan. Nay, I'm not proud, that is not my fault'
Widow L. He's in the house; I'll go and bring I am presently acquainted when I know the comhim myself  [Going.]  You would do well to pany; but this gentlewoman is a stranger to me.
break the business to your sister. She's within,   Widow L. She is your mistress: I have spoke
I'll send her to you-[ Going again, comes back. a good word for you; make her a bow, and go
Char. Pray do.                            and kiss her.




SCENE I.]                          OROONOKO.                                       573
Dan. Kiss her! have a care what you say; I   Bland. I'll study to deserve to be your friend.
warrant she scorns your words. Such fine folks When once our noble governor arrives,
are not used to be slopped and kissed. Do you With him you will not need my interest;
think I don't know that, mother.            He is too generous not to feel your wrongs.
Widow L. Try her, try her, man. [DANIEL But, be assur'd, I will employ my power,
bows, she thrusts him forward.]  Why, that's And find the means to send you home again.
well done; go nearer her.                       Oro. I thank you, Slr.-My honest, wretched
Dan. Is the devil in the woman  Why, so I          friends!                   [Sighing.
can go nearer her, if you would let a body alone. Their chains are heavy: they have hardly found
[ To his mother.] Cry your mercy, forsooth; my So kind a master. May I ask you, Sir,
mother is always shaming one before company; What is become of them? Perhaps I should not.
she would have me as unmannerly as herself, and  You will forgive a stranger.
offer to kiss you.                I To LucY.   Bland. I'll inquire;
Char. Why, wont you kiss her?             And use my best endeavours, where they are,
Dan. Why, pray. may I?                     To have'em gently us'd.
Char. Kiss her, kiss her, man.               Oro. Once more I thank you.
Dan. Marry, and I will.  [Kisses her.] Gad- You offer every cordial that can keep
zooks, she, kisses rarely! An' please you, mis- My hopes alive, to wait a better day.
tress, and seeing my mother will have it so, I What friendly care can do, you have applied:
don't much care if I kiss you again, forsooth.  But, oh! I have a grief admits no cure.
[Kisses her again.   Bland. You do not know, SirLucy. Well, how do you like me now?          Oro. Can you raise the dead?
Dan. Like you! marry, I don't know; you Pursue and overtake the wings of time?
have bewitched me, I think: I was never so in And bring about again the hours, the days,
my born days before.                          The years that made me happy?
Widow L. You must marry this fine woman,   Bland. That is not to be done.
Daniel.                                         Oro. No, there is nothing to be done for me.
Dan. Hey-day! marry her! I was never mar-                   [Kneels and kisses the earth.
ried in all my life. What must I do with her Thou God ador'd! thou ever-glorious sun!
then, mother?                               If she be yet on earth, send me a beam
Widow L. You must live with her, eat and Of thy all-seeing power to light me to her;
drink with her, and sleep with her.           Or, if thy sister goodness has preferr'd
Dan. Nay, marry, I shall never sleep, that's Her beauty to the skies, to be a star,
certain; she'll break me of my rest, quite and 0, tell me where she shines, that I may stand
clean, I tell youl beforehand. As for eating and Whole nights, and gaze upon her.
drinking with her, why I have a good stomach,   Bland. I am rude, and interrupt you.
and can play my part in any company. But how    Oro. I am troublesome:
do you think I can go to bed to a woman I don't But pray give me your pardon. My swol'n heart
know?                                        Bursts out its passage, and I must complain,
Char. You shall know her better.           (O! can you think of nothing dearer to me;
Dan. Say you so, Sir?                     Dearer than liberty, my country, friends,
Char. Kiss her again. [DANIEL kisses LucY. Much dearer than my life? that I have lost
Dan. Nay, kissing I find will make us present- The tend'rest, best beloved, and loving wife.
lv acquainted. We'll steal into a corner to prac-   Bland. Alas! I pity you.
tise a little, and then I shall be able to do any    Oro. Do pity me.
thing.                                       Pity's a-kin to love; and every thought
Char. The young man mends apace.           Of that soft kind is welcome to my soul.
Dan. Mother, mother, if you'll stay in the I would be pitied here.
room by me, and promise not to leave me, I don't   Bland. I dare not ask
care for once if I venture to go to bed with her.   More than you please to tell me; but, if you
Widow L. There's a good child, go in and put Think it convenient to let me know
on thy best clothes; pluck up a spirit, I'll stay in Your story, I dare promise you to bear
the room by thee. She wont hurt thee, I warrant A part in your distress, if not assist you.
thee.                                           Oro. Thou honest-hearted man! I wanted
Dan. Nay, as to that matter, I'm not afraid of     such,
her.  I'11 give her as good as she brings. I have Just such a friend as thou art, that would sit
a Rowland for her Oliver, and so thou may tell Still as the night, and let me talk whole days
her.                                  [Exit. Of my Imoinda. O! I'll tell thee.all
Widow L. Mrs. Lucy we sha' n't stay for you: From first to last! and pray observe me well.
you are in readiness, I suppose?               Bland. I will, most heedfully.
Char. She is always ready to do what I would    Oro. There was a stranger in my father's
have her, I muist say that for my sister.            court,
Widow L.'Twill be her own another day, Valu'd and honour'd much: he was a white,
Mr. Weldon; we'll marry'em out of hand, and The first I ever saw of your complexion.
then -                                       He chang'd his god for ours, and so grew great;
Char. And then Mrs. Lackitt, look to your- Of many virtues, and so fam'd in arms,
self-                              [Exeunt. He still commanded all my father's wars:
I was bred under him. One fatal day,
The armies joining, he before me stepp'd,
Oro. You know my story, and you say you are Receiving in his breast a poison'd dart,
A friend to my misfortunes: that's a name    Levell'd at me; he dy'd within my arms.
Will teach you what you owe yourself and me.  I've tir'd you already.




574                               OROONOKO.                                    [AMC [L
Bland. Pray, go on.                        And raise you from your sorrow.  I may take
Oro. He left an only daughter, whom  he This pretty hand: I know your modesty
brought                              Would draw it back: but you would take it ill
An infant to Angola. When I came             If I should let it go.
Back to the court, a happy conquerors          [She struggles, and gets her hand fron  him I
Humanity oblig'd me to condole                   then he ojfers to kiss her.
With this sad virgin for a father's loss,    Nay, if you struggle with me, I must takeLost for my safety. I presented her            Imo. You may-my life, that I can part with
With all the slaves of battle, to atone              freely.                       [Esit
Her father's ghost. But, when I saw her face,
And heard her speak, I offer'd up myself     Enter BLANDFORD, STANMORE, and OROONOKn
To be the sacrifice. She bow'd and blush'd;
I wonder'd and ador'd. The sacred power,       Bland. So, governor, we don't disturb you, I
That had subdu'd me, then inspir'd my tongue,        hope?
Inclin'd her heart, and all our talk was love.  Your mistress has left you. You were making
Bland. Then you were happy.                        love.
Oro. Oh! I was too happy.                  She's thankful for the honour I suppose.
I married her: and, though my country's custom    Lieut. Quite insensible to all I say, and do.
Indulg'd the privilege of many wives,        When I speak to her, she sighs, or weeps,
I swore. myself never to know but her.       But never answers me as I would have her.
O, my Imoinda! But it could not last.           Stan. There's something nearer than her
Her fatal beauty reach'd my father's ears:   slavery, that touches her.
He sent for her to court, where, cursed court!  Bland. What do her fellow-slaves say of her?
No woman comes but for his amorous use.      Can't they find the cause? 
He, raging to possess her, she was forc'd      Lieut. Some of tlhem, who pretend to be wiser
To own herself my wife. The furious king     than the rest, and hate her, I suppose, for being
Started at incest; but, grown desperate,     used better than they are, will needs have it that
Not daring to enjoy what he desir'd,         she is with child.
In mad revenge (which I could never learn)     Bland. Poor wretch! if it be so, I pity her.
He poison'd her, or sent her far, far off,   She has lost a husband, that perhaps was dear
Far from my hopes ever to see her more.      To her, and then you cannot blame her.
Bland. Most barbarous of fathers! the sad tale    Oro. If it be so, indeed, you cannot blame her.
Has struck me dumb with wonder.                                                 [Sighing.
Oro. I have done.                            Lieut. No, no, it is not so. If it be so,
I'll trouble you no further: now and then    I must still love her; and, desiring still,
A sigh will have its way; that shall be all.  I must enjoy her.
Bland. Try what you can do with fair means,
Enter STANMORE.                and welcome.
Stan. Blandford, the lieutenant-governor is   Lieut. I'll give you ten slaves for her.
gone to your plantation. He desires you would   Bland. You know, she is our lord-governor's 
bring the royal slave with you. The sight of his but, if I could dispose of her, I would not now,
fair mistress, he says, is an entertainment for a especially to you.
prince. He would have his opinion of her.      Lieut. Why not to me?
Oro. Is he a lover'?l                        Bland. I mean, against her will.  You are irn
Bland. So he says himself. He flatters a beau-     love with her;
tiful slave that I have, and calls her mistress.  And we all know what your desires would have.
Oro. Must he then flatter her, to call her mis- Love stops at nothing but possession.
tress.                              Were she within your power, you do not know
I pity the proud man, who thinks himself     How soon you would be tempted to forget
Above being in love. ~ What, though she be a The nature of the deed; and, may be, act
slave,                               A violence you after would repent.
She may deserve him.                           Oro.'Tis godlike in you to protect the weak.
Bland. You shall judge of that when you see   Lieut. Fy, fy, I would not force her. Though
her, Sir.                                    she be
Oro. I go with you.             [Exeunt. A slave, her mind is free, and should consent.
Oro. Such honour will engage her to consent:
SCENE II.-A Plantation.             And then, if you're in love, she's worth tho
having.
Enter IMOINDA,.followed by                          not see the wonder?
Lieut. Have a care;
Lieut. I have disturb'd you. I confess my You have a heart, and she has conquering eyes.
faults                                 Oro. I have a heart; but, if it could be false
My fair Clemene; but begin again,            To my first vows, ever to love again,
And I will listen to your mournful song,     These honest hands should tear it from my
Sweet as the soft complaining nightingale's.         breast,
Sing, sing again,                            And throw the traitor from me. O! Imoindla!
And let me wonder at the many ways           Living or dead, I can be only thine.
You have to ravish me.                         Bland. Imoinda was his wife; she's either
tmo. Oh, I can weep                                dead.
Enough for you and me, if that will please you.  Or, living, dead to him; forc'd from his arms
Lieut. You must not weep: I come to dry your By an inhuman father. Another time
tears,                               I'll tell you all. [ To LIEUT. and STAN.; exeuni.




SCENE III.]                       O ROON O K O.                                    575
SCENE III.                    His mistress' favour, will not stay behinid.
aes, me, women and children  discovered I'll lead you on; be bold, and follow me.
n the ground * some;  a rise andv dmance. -   [ORooNroKo, at the head of the Pianters,,upon the ground; some rise anfalls upon the Indians, with a great
During the entertainment, enter the LIEUTE-        shout, and beats them off.
NANT-GOVERNOR, BLANDFORD, STANMORE,                       Enter IMOINDA.
and OROONOKO, as spectators; that ended, enter C4APTAIN DRIVER, JACK STANMORE, and    Imo. I'm toss'd about by my tempestuous fate,
several PLANTERS, with their swords drawn. And no where must have rest. Indians, or EnDrums beat; bells ring.                            glish!
Whoever has me, I am still a slave.
Capt. D. Where are you, governor? Make No matter whose I am, since I'm no more
what haste you can                   My royal master's; since I'm his no more.
To save yourself and the whole colony.       0, I was happy! nay, I will be happy
f bid'em ring the bell.                     In the dear thought that I am still his winf,
Lieut. What's the matter?                Though far divided from him.        [Retires.
Jack S. The Indians are come down upon us;
they have plundered some of the plantations al- Re-enter LIEUTENANT-GOVERNOR, OROONOKOJ
ready, and are marching this way as fast as they  BLANDFORD, STANMORE, and Planters.
can.                                           Lieut. Thou glorious man! thou something
Lieut. What can we do against-them                  g
Bland. We shall be able to make a stand till        greater sure
moreplantes  come intoThan Caesar ever was! that single arm
more planters come into us.
Jack S. There are  a great many more with- Has sav'd us all: accept our gen'ral thanks.
out, if YOU would show yourself, and put us in  And what can we do more to recopense
out,   yano                                              we do more to recompense.rder.
Nrder.                                       Such noble services, you shall command.
Lieut. There's no danger of the white slaves, Clemene too shall thank you-she is sand --
Clemene too shall thank you    she is saft,they'll not stir. Blandford and Staninore, come Look up, and bless your brave deliverer.
l hfe   Look up, and bless your brave deliverer.
you along with me. Some of you stay here to      [Brings IMOINDAforward, looking don on
look after the black slaves.                                              looking do    on
[All go out but the CAPTAIN and six Plant-    Oro. Bless me indeed 
ers, who all at once seize OROONOKO.                     i
ers,                 wBland. You start!
i Plan. Ay, ay, let us alone.                Oro.      ou gods,
Copt. D. In the first place we secure, you, Sir, Who govern  all you great world, and bring about
as an enemy to the government.               Who govern this great world, and bring about
Oro.as an enemy to there Sir  You are my constant Things strange and unexpected! can it be I
Oro. Are you there, Sir'! You are my constant   Licut. What is't you stare at so
ffi d., Lieut. W~hat is't you stare at so?
friend.
Oro. Answer me some of you, you who nave
1 Plan. You will be able to do a great deal of    Or. Answer
mischief power,
~~~~~mischief.~ ~And have your senses free: or are you all
Capt. D. But we shall prevent you: bring the  Struck through with wonder too 
irons hither. He has the malice of a slave in
him, and would be glad to be cutting his masters'          [LookingB stild fixedly on IyMo-DA
throats. I know him. Chain his hands and feet,    Blnd. M hat woul you knowdl t
Oro. My soul steals from my body through my
that he may not run over to'em. If they have               f           v   v
him, they'll carry him on their backs, that I can    eyes;
~~~~~~~~~tell'em.All that is left of life I'll gaze away.
And die upon the pleasure.
As they are chaining him, re-enter BLANDFORD,   Lieut. This is strange!
who runs to them.                 Oro. If you but mock me with her image here:
If she be not ImoindaBland. What are you doing there?                    [She looks upon him and falls into a
Capt. D. Securing the main chance: this is a                      swoon; he runs to her.
bosom enemy.                                 Ha! She faints!
Bland. Away, you brutes: I'll answer with  Nay, then, it must be she: it is Imoinda!
ray life. for his behaviour; so tell the governor.    My heart confesses her, and leaps for joy
Capt. D. 4ff Plan. Well, Sir, so we will.  To welcome her to her own empire here.
[E.eunt CAPTAIN and PLANTERS.                                     [Kisses her.
Oro. Give me a sword, and I'll deserve your Imoinda! Oh! thy Oroonoko calls.
trust.                              - Imo. [Coming to life.] My Oroonoko! Oh! I
A party of Indians enter, hurrying IMOINDA           can't believe
What any man can say. But, if I am
among the slaves; another party of Indians What any  an can say. But, if I am
sustains them retreating,followed at a distance To be deceiv'd, there's something in that name,
by the LIEUTENANT-GOVERNOR, with the Plant- That voice, that face-       [Sares at him.
eors: BLANDFORD and OROONOKO join them.    O! if I know myself, 1 cannot be mistaken.
[Embraces him
Bland. Hell and the devil! they drive away    Oro. Never here:
our slaves before our faces. Governor, can you You cannot be mistaken: I am yours,
stand tamely by, and suffer this' Clemene, Sir, Your Oroonoko, all that you would have,
your mistress, is among'em.                 Your tender, loving husband.
Lieut. We throw ourselves away in the. attempt   Imo. All indeed
to rescue them.                               That I would have: my husband! then I am
Oro. A lover cannot fall more glorious,    Alive, and waking to the joys I feel:
Than in the cause of love. He, that deserves    They were so great, I could not think'em trne




576                                OROONOKO.                                  [ACT hi.
For truth itself, and everlasting love,        Aboan. Who is this fellow? tHe talks as if he
Grows in this breast, and pleasure in these arms. were acquainted with our design: is he one of us l
Oro. Take, take me all: inquire into my heart.                   [Aside to his own gang.
(You know the way to ev'ry secret there,)      I Slave. Not yet; but he will be glad to make
Mv nean. the sacred treasury of love:        one, I believe.
And if, in absence, I have misemploy'd         Aboan. He makes a mighty noise.
A mite from the rich store; if I have spent    Hot. Go, sneak in corners, whisper out your
A wish, a sigh, but what I sent to you;               griefs,                      [crouch
May I be curs'd to wish and sigh in vain,    For fear your masters hear you: cringe and
And you not pity me.                         Under the bloody whip, like beaten curs,
Imo. 0! I believe,                         That lick their wounds, and know no other cure.
And know you by myself. If these sad eyes,   All, wretches all! you feel their cruelty,
Since last we parted, have beheld the face   As much as I can feel, but dare not groan.
Of any comfort. or once wish'd to see        For my part, while I have a life and tongue,
The light of any other heaven but you,       I'll curse the authors of my slavery.
May I be struck this moment blind, and lose    Aboan. Have you been long a slave?
Your blessed sight, never to find you more.    Hot. Yes, many years.
Oro. Imoinda! 0! this separation             Aboan. And do you only curse?
Has made you dearer, if it can be so,          Hot. Curse! only curse! I cannot conjure,
Than you were ever to me. You appear         To raise the spirits up of other men:
Like a kind star to my benighted steps,      I am but one. 0! for a soul of fire,
To guide me on my way to happiness:          To warm and animate our common cause
I cannot miss it now. Governor, friend,      And make a body of us; then I would
You think me mad: but let me bless you all,  Do something more than curse.
Who any way have been the instruments          Aboan. That body set on foot, you would be
Of finding her again. Imoinda's found!       A limb, to lend it motion?             [one
And ev'ry thing that I would have in her.      Hot. I would be
[Embraces her, with the most passionate The heart ofit; the head, the hand, and heartfondness.                            Would I could see the day!
Sitan. Where's your mistress now, governor?    Aboan. You will do all yourself.
Lieut. Why, where most men's mistresses are   Hot. I would do more
forced to be sometimes; with her husband, it Than I shall speak; but I may find a timeseems. — But I wont lose her so.     [Aside.   Aboan. The time may come to you; be ready
Stan. He has fought lustily for her, and" de-      for't.
serves her: I'll say that for him.           Methinks he talks too much; I'll know him more
Bland. Sir, we congratulate your happiness: Before I trust him further.          [Aside.
I do most heartily.                            1 Slave. If he dares
Lieut. And all of us: but how it comes to Half what he says, he'll be of use to us.
passpass  --                                                  Enter BLANDPORD.
Oro. That will require
More precious time than I can spare you now.   Bland. If there be any one among you here
I have a thousand things to ask of her,      That did belong to Oroonoko, speak
And she as many more to know of me.          I come to him.
But you have made me happier, I confess,       Aboan. I did belong to him; Aboan my name,
Acknowledge it, much happier, than I           Bland. You are the man I want; pray coinm
Have words or power to tell you. Captain, you,       with me.                   [Exeunt.
E'en you, who most have wrong'd me, I forgive.      Enter OROONOKo and IMOINDA.
I will not say you have betray'd me now:
I'll think you but the minister of fate,       Oro. I do not blame my father for his love;
To bring me to my lov'd Imoinda here. [worthy But when I think on his barbarity,
Imo. How, how shall I receive you? how be That could expose you to so many wrongs;
Of such endearments, all this tenderness?   Driving you out to wretched slavery,
These are the transports of prosperity,      Only for being mine; then I confess
When fortune smiles upon us.                 I wish I could forget the name of son,
Oro. Let the fools                         That I might curse the tyrant.
Who follow fortune, live upon her smiles;      Into. I will bless him,
All our prosperity is plac'd in love,        For I have found you here: heaven only knowe
We have enough of that to make us happy.     What is reserv'd for us: but, if we guess
This little spot of earth you stand upon,    The future by the past, our fortune must
Is more to me than the extended plains       Be wonderful; it must be in extremes:
Of my great father's kingdom. Here I reign   Extremely happy, or extremely wretched,
In full delights, in joys to power unknown:    Oro.'Tis in our power to make it happy now.
Your love my empire, and your heart my throne.   Imo. But not to keep it so.
[Exeunt.        Re-enter BLANDFORD and ABOAN.
ACT III.                      Bland. My royal lord!
SCENE  1.                     I have a present for you.
Oro. Aboan!
Enter ABOAN, with several SLAVES, and      Aboan. Your lowest slave.
HOTMAN.                       Oro. My tried and valued friend
Hot. What! to be slaves to cowards! slaves to                        [To BLANDPOAD
-ues, who can't defend themselves!         This worthy man always prevents my wants:




SCENE i.]                         OROO N OKO.                                      577
I only wish'd, and he has brought thee to me.  Oro. What would you do?
Thou art surpris'd: carry thy duty there,      Aboan. Cut our oppressors' throats.
[ABOAN goes to IMOINDA, and falls at her   Oro. And you would have me join in your de
feet.                                        sign
While I acknowledge mine. How shall I thank Of murder?
you?                [To BLANDFORD.   Aboan. It deserves a better name.
Bland. Believe me honest to your interest,  But, be it what it will,'tis justified
And I am more than paid. I have secur'd      By self-defence, and natural liberty.
That all vour followers shall be gently us'd,  Oro. I'll hear no more on't.
Shall waft upon your person, while you stay    Aboan. I'm sorry for't.
Among us.                                      Oro. Nor shall you think of it.
Oro. I owe every thing to you.               Aboan. Not think of it?
Bland. You must not think you are in slavery.   Oro. No, I command you not.
Oro. I do not find I am.                     Aboan. Remember, Sir,
Bland. Kind Heaven has miraculously sent   You are a slave yourself, and to command
Those comforts, that may teach you to expect    Is now another's right. Not think of it?
Its further care, in your deliverance.       Since the first moment they put on my chains,
Oro. I sometimes think myself Heaven is con- I've thought of nothing but the weight of'em,
cern'd                               And how to throw'em off. Can yours sit easy 
For my deliverance.                            Oro. I have a sense of my condition,
Bland. It will be soon;                    As painful and as quick as yours can be.
You may expect it. Pray, in the mean time,    I feel for my Imoinda and myself;
Appear as cheerful as you can among us.      Imoinda! much the tend'rest part of me.
You have some enemies, that represent        But, though 1 languish for my liberty,
You dangerous, and would be glad to find     I would not buy it at the Christian price
A reason, in your discontent, to fear.  [men Of black ingratitude: they sha'not say
They watch your looks. But there are honest That we deserv'd our fortunes by our crimes.
Who are your friends: you are secur'd in them.  Murder the innocent!
Oro. I thank you for your caution.           Aboan. The innocent!
Bland. I will leave you:                     Oro. These men are so, whom you would rise
And be assur'd I wish your liberty.   [Exit.         against.
Aboan. He speaks you very fair.            If we are slaves, they did not make us slaves,
Oro. He means me fair.                    But bought us in an honest way of trade,
Aboan. If he should not, my lord?         As we have done beflire'em; bought and sold
Oro. If he should not?                     Many a wretch, and never thought it wrong.'1 not suspect his truth: but, if I did,     They paid our price for us, and we are now
What shall I get by doubting?                Their property, a part of their estate,
Aboan. You secure                          To manage as they please. Mistake me not,
Not to be disappointed: but, besides,        I do not tamely say that we should bear
There's. this advantage in suspecting him:   All they could lay upon us: but we find
When you put off the hopes of other men,     The load so light, so little to be felt
You will reiy upon your godlike self;        (Considering they have us in their power,
And then you may be sure of liberty.         And may inflict what grievances they please,)
Oro. Be sure of liberty? what dost thou mean, We ought not to complain.
Advising to rely upon myselfl                  Aboan. My royal lord!
I think 1 may be sure on't: we must wait:    You do not know the heavy grievances,'Tis worth a little patience.                The toils, the labours, weary drudgeries,
[ Turning to IMOINDA. Which they impose; burdens more fit for beasts,
Aboan. 0, my lord!                         For senseless beasts, to bear, than thinking men.
Oro. What dost thou drive at?             Then if you saw the bloody cruelties
Aboan. Sir, another time                   They execute on every slight offence;
You would have found it sooner: but I see    Nay, sometimes in their proud, insulting sport,
Love has your heart, and takes up all your How worse than dogs they lash their fellowthoughts.                                    creatures;
Oro. And canst thou blame me?            Your heart would bleed for'em. Oh! could you
Aboan. Sir, I must not blame you.                  know
But, as our fortune stands, there is a passion  How many wretches lift their hands and eyes
(Your pardon, royal mistress, I must speak)  To you for their relief!
That would become you better than your love:-   07o. I pity'em,
A brave resentment; which, inspir'd by you,    And wish I could with honesty do more.
Might kindle and diffuse a gen'rous rage       Aboan. You must do more, and may, with
Among the slaves, to rouse and shake our chains,     honesty.
And struggle to be free.                     0, royal Sir, remember who you are,
Oro. How can we help ourselves 2           A prince, born for the good of other men;
Aboan. I knew you when you would have Whose godlike office is to draw the sword
found a way.                        Against oppression, and set free mankind:
How help ourselves? the very Indians teach us:  And this, I'm sure, you think oppression now.
We need but to attempt our liberty,          What though you have not felt these miseries,
And we carry it. We have hands sufficient,    Never believe you are oblig'd to them:
Double the number of our masters' force,     They have their selfish reasons, may be, now.
Ready to be employ'd. We want but you,       For using of you well; but there will come
To head our enterprise, and bid us strike.   A time, when you must have your share of'emra.
Vor,. I...4 D      49




578                               OROONOKO.                                    [ACT [II.
Oro. You see how little cause I have to think    Char. We had best stay a little, I think, to set
so:                                 things settled again. had not we?  Marriage is a
Favour'd in my own person, in my friends;    serious thing, you know.
lndulg'd in all that can concern my care,      Widow L. What do you talk of a serious
In my Imoinda's soft society.   [Embraces her. thing, Mr. Weldon'? I think you have found me
Aboan. And therefore would you lie contented sufficiently serious: I have married my son to
down                                your sister, to pleasure you: and now I come to
In the forgetfulness and arms of love,       claim your promise to me, you tell me marriage
And get young princes for'em 2              is a serious thing.
Oro. Say'st thou? ha!                      Char. Why, is it not?
Aboan. Princes, the heirs of empire, and the    Widow L. Fiddle faddle, I know what it is:
last'tis not the first time I have been married, I hope;
Of your illustrious lineage, to be born      but.I shall begin to think you don't design to do
To pamper up their pride and be their slaves?   fairly by me, so I shall.
Oro. Imoinda! save me, save me from  that   Char. Why, indeed, Mrs. Lackitt, I'm afraid I
thought!                            can't do so fairly as I would by you.'Tis what
Aboan. I know you are persuaded to believe    you must know, first or last; and I should be the
[he governor's arrival will prevent         worst man in the world to conceal it, any longer;
Those mischiefs, and bestow your liberty:    therefore I must own to you that I am married
But who is sure of that? I rather fear      already.
More mischief from his coming. He is young,    Widow L. Married! You don't say so, I hope.
Luxurious, passionate, and amorous:         how have you the conscience to tell me such a
Such a complexion, and made bold by power,   thing to my face? I would have you to know I
To countenance all he is prone to do,        understand better things than to ruin my son'Will know no bounds, no law against his lusts.!without a valuable consideration. If I can't have
If, in a fit of his intemperance,            you, I can keep my money. Your sister sha'n't
With a strong hand he shall resolve to seize  have the catch of him she expected: I wont part
And force my royal mistress from your arms,    with a shilling to'em.
How can you help yourself?                    iChar. You made the match yourself, you
Oro. Ha! thou hast rous'd                  know; you can't blame me.
The lion in his den; he stalks abroad,         Widow L. Yes, yes, I can and do blame you:
And the wide forest trembles at his roar;    you might have told me before, you were marI find the danger now. My spirits start     ried.
At the alarm, and from all quarters come       Char. I would not have told you now, but you
To man my heart, the citadel of love.        followed me so close, I was forced to it: indeed I
Is there a power on earth to force you from me,  am married in England; but'tis as if I were not;
And shall I not resist it, nor strike first,  for I have been parted from my wife a great while,
To keep, to save you, to prevent that curse?     and, to do reason on both sides, we hate one
This is your cause; and shall it not prevail?  another heartily. Now I did design, and will
Oh! you were born always to conquer me.     marry you still, if you'll have a little patience.
Now am I fashion'd to thy purpose: speak,      Widow L. A likely business truly.
W\hat combination. what conspiracy,           iChar. 1 have a friend in England that I will'Wouldst thou engage me in?  I'll undertake  write to, to poison my wife, and then I can marry
All thou wouldst have me now for liberty,    you with a good conscience.
For the great cause of love and liberty.       Widow L. And will he do it, do you think?
Aboan. Now, my great master, you appear   Char. At the first word, or he is not the man
yourself;                            I take him to be.
And, since we have you join'd in our design,  4Widow L. Well, you are a dear devil, Mr.
It cannot fail us. I have muster'd up        Weldon: and would you poison your wife for
The choicest slaves, men who are sensible    me?
Of their condition, and seem most resoiv'd:    Chiar. I would do any thing for you.
They have their several parties.               WtTidow L. Well, I am mightily obliged to you.
Orto. Summon'em,                         But'twill be a great while before you can have
Assemble'em: I will come forth and show     an answer of your letter.
Myself among them: if they are resolv'd,       Chiar.'Twill be a great -while, indeed.
I'll lead their foremost resolutions.          Widow L. In the meantime, Mr. WeldonAboan. I have provided those will follow you.  Char. Why, in the meantime- Here's
Oro. With this reserve in our proceedings still, company. We'll settle that within; I'll follow
The means that lead us to our liberty,      you.                 [Exit WIDOW  LACKITT.
Must not be bloody.
Aboan. You command in all.                              Enter STANMORE.
We shall expect you, Sir.
Oro. You sha'not long.                       Stan. So, Sir, you carry on your business
[E.xeunt OROONOKO  and  lMOImNDA on one swimmingly: you have stolen a wedding, 1,
side, ABOAN at the other.              hear.
Char. Ay, my sister is married: and I am
Enter CHARLOTTE 5~ELDON, dressed in man's very near being run away with myself.
very near being run away with myself
clothes, followed by WmDow LACKITT.       Sat. The widow will have you thee 
Widow L. These unmannerly Indians were   Char.'You come very seasonably to my rescue.
something unreasonable to disturb us just in the Jack Stanmore is to be had, I hope?
nick, Mir. Weldon; but I have the parson within   Stan. At half an hour's warning.
call still, to do us the good turn.            Char. I must advise with you.     [Exeun&




sCE I.]                           ORO- ONOKO.                                      579
ACT IV.                      Lucy. Why, you  lubberly, slovenly blockhead    I see all good nature is thrown away
SCE NE I.                     upon you-.nter WIDOw LACK ITT, and CHARLOTTE WEL.-   Widow  L. It was so with his -father before
noN, dressed in man's clothes,       him. He takes after him.
Lucy. And therefore I will use youasyou deCh.a.r. Now, Mrs. Lackitt.                             ny.
Widow L. Well, well, Lackitt, or what you serve, you tony.enoug
d;ow IW   L. Indeed, he deserves bad enough;
will now; now I am married to you;' I a     hm very but don't call- him out of his- name: his name is
well pleased with what I have done, I assure you. Daniel you know.
Mr. Weldon, what must I call you' I must have    Dan. Let her call me what she pleases, mosome pretty fond name or other for you, it looks ther,'tis not her tongue that I'm afraid of.
negligent, land is the fashion, you know.      Lucy. I will ma:ke such a beast of thee! 
Char. To be negligent of their husbands, it is  TWidow L. 0, pray no, I hope; do nothing
indeed.                                      rashly, Mrs. Lucy. 
Widow L. Nay then I wont be in the fashion;   Dan. 1 had rather e a beast than what you
for I can never be negligent of dear Mr. Weldon; would make me in a week, I'm sure; I -have no
and, to convince you, here's'something to encourage more manhood left in me already, than there is in
you not to be negligent of me. [ Gives apurse and one of my mother's  old under-petticoats.
a little-casket.]  Five -hundred pounds in gold in   H1ridow L. Sirrah, sirrah;,'meddle with- your
this; and jewels to the value of five hundred wife's petticoats, and let your-mother's: alone,
pounds more in this.                         you ungracious birdyou.          [Beats him.
Char.: [Opens the casket.] Ay, marry, this will    Dan. Why, is the devil in the woman? What
encourage me, indeed.         -              have I said now? Do you know if you were
5Widow L. There are comforts in marrying an asked, I trow? But you are all of a:bundle; e'en
elderly woman, Mr. Weldon. Now a young wo- hang together:'he that unties you makes a rod'
man would have fancied she had paid you with for himself; and so he: will find it that has any
her person, or had done you the favour.       thing to do with you..
Char. -What do you talk of -young women?    Widow L. Ay, rogue enough, you shall find
you are  as young as any of'em, in every thing it;: I have a rod for you still.  "
but their folly and ignorance.   -             Dan. No wife, and I care not.
Widow L. And do you think me so?. But I   Widow L. I'll swinge you into better manners,
have reason to suspect you. Was not I seen at you booby.          [Beats him-of, and exit.
your house this morning, do you think          - I Char. You have consummated -our project
Char. You may venture again: you'll come at upon him.
night,.I suppose'1                            Lucy. Nay, if I have a limb of the fortune, I
Widow L. 0 dear, at night? so soon?      care not who has the whole body of the fool.
Char. Nay, if you think it so soon-          Char. That you shall, and a large one, I
Widow L. 0, no!'tis not for that, Mr. Wel- promise you.
don; but —I will come to please you.'  Lucy. Have you heard the news? They talk
Char. To please yourself; own it.'  of an English ship in the river.
WTidow L. -Well, well, to please myself then.   Char. I have heard on't; and am preparing to
You're the strangest man in the world, nothing receive it as fast as I can.
can'scape you.                                Lucy. There's something the matter too with
Enter DANr,,follIowed by LuCY. - -    the slaves, some disturbance or other; I dont
know what it is.
Dan. What would you have? what do you    Char. So much the better still'; we fish in
follow me for?                              troubled waters: we shall have fewer eyes upon
Lucy. Why mayn't I follow you? I must fol- us. Pray, go you home, and be ready to: assist
low you now all the world: over.             me in your part of the design.
Dan. Hold you, hold you there: not so far by    Lucy. I can't fail in milie.     [Esit.
a mile or two; I have enough of your - company    Char. The widow has furnish'd me, I thank
already, by'r: lady, and something to spare; you her, to carry it on. Now I have got: a wife,' tis
may go home to your brother, an' you will; I high time to think of getting a husband. I carry
haove -no further to do with you.            my fortune about me-a thousand pounds in gold
- Widow L. Why, Daniel, child - thou art not and jewels. Let me see-'twill be a considerable
out. of thy wits sure, art thou?    -trust: and I -think I shall lay it out to advantage.
Dan. Nay, marry, I don't know; out I am
very near, I believe. — I am altered for the worse        Enter S'ANMORE.
mightily since you saw me; and she has been the   Stan. So, Weldon, Jack has- told me his succause of it there.                           cess; and his hopes of marrying the widow by
- Tidow L. -How so, child?                your means.
Dan. I told you before what would come on't   Char. I have strained a point, Stanrmore, upon
of putting me to bed. to a strange woman; but your account, to be serviceable to your family.
you would not be said nay. -                   Stan. I take it upon my account; and am very
Widow L. She is your wife now, child, you much obliged to you. But here we are all in an
must love her.                               uproar.
Dan. Why, so I did at first.                 Char. So they say. What s the matter?
Widow L. But you must love her always.       Stan. A mutiny among the' slaves. Oroonoko
Dan. Always! I loved. her as long as" I could, is at the head of'em. Our governor'is gone out
mother, and as long as loving was good, I believe; with his rascally militia against'em.':- What it
for I find now I don't care a fig for her.''   may come to nobody knows.




3580                              OR O ONOK.                                  r[AUT IV
Char. For my part, I shall do as well as the    Oro. Thou art fall'n indeed;
rest; but I'm concerned for my sister and cousin, Thy own blood be upon thee.
whom I expect in the ship from England.        Lieut. Rest it there;
Stan. There's no danger of'em.            He did deserve his death. Take him away.
Char. I have a thousand pounds here, in gold                      [The body is removed
and jewels, for my cousin's use, that I would You see, Sir, you and those mistaken men
more particularly take care of:'tis too great a Must be our witnesses, we do not come
sum to venture at home: and I would not have As enemies, and thirsting for your blood.
her wrong'd of it; therefore to secure it, I think  If we desir'd your ruin, the revenge
my best way will be to put it into your own  Of our companion's death had push'd it on.
keeping.                                     But that we overlook, in a regard
Stan. You have a very good opinion of my To common safety and the public good.  [men,
honesty.         [ Takes the purse and casket.   Oro. Regard that public good; draw off your
Char. I have, indeed. If any thing should And leave us to our fortune: we're resolv'd.
happen to me in this bustle, as nobody is secure   Lieut. Resolv'd! on what? your resolutions
of accidents, I know you will take my cousin into Are broken, overturn'd, prevented, lost:
your protection and care. Pray see her married You see our numbers could with ease compel
as soon as you can.                          What we request: and what do we request?
Stan. If she be as handsome as her picture, I Only to save yourselves.
can promise her a husband.                       [The women with their children gather
Char. If you like her when you see her, I wish   about the men.
nothing so much as to have you marry her your-   Oro. I'll hear no more.
self; for I always thought you worth making a   Lieut. To those poor wretches, who have been
friend.                                              seduc'd,
Stan. You sha'n't find your good opinion  We offer a full pardonthrown away upon me: I am in your debt, and    Oro. Then fall on.   [Preparing to engage.
shall think so as long as I live.  [Exeunt.   Lieut.. Lay hold upon't, before it be too late:
Pardon and mercy.
rSCENE I1. —The Cou~ntry.                [The women clinging about the men, they
Enter on one side qf the stage OROONOKO, ABOAN,    leave OROONOKO, andfall upon their faces,
and slaves; IMOIND A with a bow and quiver;      crying outfor pardon.
the women, some leading, others carrying their   Slaves. Pardon, mercy, pardon!
children upon their backs.                   Oro. Let them go all. Now, governor, I see,
Oro. The women with their children fall be- I own, the folly of my enterprise,
Imoinda, you must not expose yourself.  [hind. The rashness of this action, and must blush,
Retire, my love: I almost fear for you.      Quite through this veil of night, a whitely shame,
Imo. I fear no danger; life, or death, I will    To think I could design to make those free,
Enjoy with you.                              Who were by nature slaves; wretches design'd
Oro. My person is your guard.              To be their masters' dogs, and lick their feet.
Aboan. Now, Sir, blame yourself: if you had I would not live on the same earth with creatures,
not prevented my cutting his throat, that coward That only have the faces of their kind.
there had not discovered us. He comes now to Why should they look like men, who are not so,
upbraid you.                                 When they put off their noble natures, for
The grovelling qualities of downcast beasts 1
Enter, on the other side, LIEUTENANT-GOVER- We were too few before for victory.
NOR, talking to HO'rMAN, with his rabble.    We're still enow to die.
Lieut. This is the very thing I would have                     [To IMOINDA and ABOAN.
wish'd.                                           Enter BLANDFORD.
Your honest service to the government
[To HOTMAN.   Lieut. Live, royal Sir:
Shall be rewarded with your liberty.         Live, and be happy long on your own terms;
Aboan. His honest service! call it what it is,   Only consent to yield, and you shall have
His villany, the service of his fear.
His villany, the service of his fear.        What terms you can propose for you and yours.
If he pretends to honest services,             Oro. Consent to yield! shall I betray myself?
Let him stand out, and meet me like a man.                     [BLANDFORD comesforward.
ABldvances.       d. I'm glad you have proceeded by fair
Oro. Hold, you: and you who come against           means.  [ To LiEUTENANT-GOVERNOR.
us, hold,:                           I came to be a mediator.
I charge you in a general good to all;         Lieut. }ry what you can to work upon him.
And wish I could command you, to prevent       Oro. Are you come against me too?
The bloody havoc of the murdering sword.       Bland. Is this to come against you?
I would not urge destruction uncompell'd:.[Qfering his sword to OROONOKO.
But if you follow fate, you find it here.    Unarm'd, to put myself into your hands 
The bonds are set, the limits of our lives:  I come, I hope, to serve you.
Between us lies the gaping gulf of death,      Oro. You have serv'd me;
To swallow all. Who first advances dies.     I thank you for't: and I am pleas'd to think
You were my friend while I had need of one:
Enter CAPTAIN DRIVER, with his crew.     But now'tis past; this farewell, and be gone.
Capt. D. Here, here, here they are, governor.                           [Embraces him.
What, seize upon my ship!                     Bland. It is not past, and I must serve you still,
Come, boys, fall on —                          Oro. I know what I have done, and I should
[AdvancingJirst, OROONOKO k/ilt him. A child to think they ever can forgive.  [be




SCENE I.]                        O RO ON  O K O.                                58
P'orglve! were there but that, I would not live    Try other means, and conquer force by force:
To be forgiven: is there a power on earth,  Break, cut off his hold, bring her away.
That I can ever need forgiveness from          Imo. I do not ask to live, kill me but here.
Bland. You sha'not need it.                 Oro. O, bloody dogs! inhuman murderers!
Oro. No, I wo'not need it.                    [IMOINDA is forced out at one door by the
Bland. You see he offers you your own con-        LIEUTENANT-GOVERNOR  and others;
For you and yours.                 [ditions,        ORO. and ABOAN hurried out at another;
Oro. Must I capitulate.                         exeunt.
Precariously compound, on stinted terms,
To save my life?                                           ACT V.
Bland. Sir, he imposes none.
You make'em for your own security.
Lieut. He will rely on what you say to him.   Enter STANMORE, CHARLOTTE WELDON, and
[To BLANDFORD.                     LUCY.
Offer him what you can; I will confirm
And make all good. Be you my pledge of trust.    Char. If I should consent to the fine things
Bland. I'll answer with my life for all he says.  you can say to me, how would you look at last
Lieut. Ay, do, and pay the forfeit if you please. to find'em thrown away on an old acquaintance?
[Aside.   Stan. An old acquaintance!
Bland. Consider, Sir, can you consent to throw    Char. Lord, how easy are you men to be imThat blessing from you, you so hardly found,    posed upon! I am no cousin newly arrived from
And so much valued once 7                   England, not I; but the very Weldon you wot of:
Stan. Weldon!.
Oro. Imnoinda! oh!                          Char. Not murdered nor made       as my'Tis she that holds me on this argument       Char. Not murdered, nor made away, as my
Of tedious life; I could resolve it soon,   sister would have you believe; but am, in very
Were this curs'd being only in debate.      good health, your old friend in breeches that was
But my Imoinda struggles in my soul;        and now your humble servant in petticoats.
She makes a coward of me, I confess;          Stan. 1 am glad we have you again. But what
I am afraid to part with her in death;      service can you do me in petticoats, pray?
And more afraid of life to lose her here.     Char. Can't you tell what?
Bland. This way you must lose her. Think    Stan. Not I, by my troth. I have found my
The    upon                        friend and lost my mistress, it seems; which I did
The weakness of her sex, made yet more weak   not expect from your petticoats.
With her condition, requiring rest,          Char. Come, come, you have had a friend of
And soft indulging ease, to nurse your hope,  your mistress long enough;'tis high time now to
And make you a glad father.                have a mistress of your friend.
Oro. There I feel                          Stan. What do you say?
A father's fondness, and a husband's love.    Char. I am a woman, Sir.
They seize upon my heart, strain all its strings,    Stan. A woman?
To pull me to'em from my stern resolve.      Char. As arrant a woman as you would have
Husband and father! all the melting art    had me but now, I assure you.
Of eloquence lives in those softening names.  Stan. And at my service?
Meithinks I see the babe, with infant hands,  Char. If you have any for me in petticoats.
Pleading for life, and begging to be born.   Stan. Yes, yes, I shall find you employment.
Shall I forbid its birth, deny him light,    Char. I need not tell you, I made that little
The heavenly comforts of all-cheering light,  plot, and carried it on only for this opportunity.
And make te womb the dungeon of his death,   I was resolved to see whether you liked me as a
And make the womb the dungeon of his death,
His bleeding mother his sad monument?      woman, or not: if I had found you indifferent, s
These are the calls of nature. that call loud;  would have endeavoured to have been so too: but!
They will be heard, and conquer in their cause:  you say you like me, and therefore I have ventured
He must not be a man, who can resist'em.  to discover the truth.
No, my Imoinda! I will venture all           Stan. Like you! I like you so well, that I am
To save thee and that little innocent,     afraid you wont think marriage a proof on't:.'
The world may be a better friend to him    shall I give you any other?
Than I have found it. Now I yield myself.    Char. No, no, I'm inclined to believe you, and
tword.  hat shal convince me. At more leisure, I'll
The conflict's past, and we are in your hands.  satisfy you bow I came to be in man's clothes;
[Several men seize ORO. and ABOAN. for no ill, I assure you, though I have happened
fieust. So you shall find you are. Dispose of to play the rogue in'em. They have assisted me,
thLieut. So you shall finded you.  Dispose of in marrying my sister, and have gone a great
them as I commanded you.
Bland. Good Heaven forbid.  You cannot way in befriending your cousin Jack with the
mean-a-                            widow. Can you forgive me for pimping for your
Lieut.  This is not your concern.        family.
[To BLANDFORD, who goes to OR             Enter JACK  TANMORE.
I must take care of you.     [To IMOINDA.
Imo. I'm at the end                         Stan. So, Jack, what news with you?
Of all my care: here will I die with him.    Jack S. I am the forepart of the widow, you
[Holding ORO. know she's coming after with the body of thel
Oro. You shall not force her from me.    family, the young'squire in her hand, my son-in[Holds her. law that is to be, with the help of Mr. Weldon.
Lieut. Then I must.                         Char. Say you so, Sir?
[Theyforce herfrom him.                 [Claps JACK S. upon the back.
49*




582.OROONOKO.                                  [Ar AC:v.
Enter WIDOW LACKITT and her son DANIEL..' and that you may bestow upon honest Jack Stanmore.
Widow L. So, Mrs. Lucy, I have brought   Widow L. Is he the man then? -
him about again; I have chastised him. Will   Char. He is the man you are obliged to.
you ever rebel again.? will you, sirrah.  But come,   Jack S. Yes, faith,: widow, I am the man.
come, down, on your marrow-bones, and ask her   Widow L. Well, well, I see you will have me;
forgiveness.. [D.ANIEmI kneels.] Say after me, pray, even marry me, and make an end of the business.'forsooth, wife.                              Stan. Why, that's well said; now we are all
Dan. Pray, forsooth, wife.               agreed, and all well provided for.
Lucy. Well, well, this is a day of good nature,
and so I take you into favour: but first take the  Enter a SERVANT to STANMORE.
oath of allegiance. [He kisses her hand, and   Serv. Sir, Mr. Blandford desires you to come
rises.] If ever you do so againDases. Nay, marry i  vr   do     I s hall have the to him, and bring as many of your friends as you
Dan. Nay, marry if I do, I shall have the can with you.
worst on't.                                   Stan. I come to him. You shall all go along
Lucy. Here's a stranger forsooth, would be with me. Come, young gentleman, marrage i
glad to be known to you, a sister of mine; pray thshion you see; you must like it now.
fte fashion you see y ou must like it now
salute her.     [WIDOW starts at CHARLOTTE    D 
salute her.   _ [Ww s.    t    CDan. IfI don't, how shall I help myself?
Widow L. Your sister, Mrs. Lucy! What do
you mean: This is- your brother, Mr. Weldon.                  but you'll never get out on't
Do you-think -I do not- knowMr. Weldon?   noose; if you please, but you'll never get out on't
Do you think I do not know'Mr. Weldon    n
with struggling.
Lucy. Have a care what you say; this gentle-   Dan.  me then, let's e'en jog on in the old
man's about marrying her: you may spoil all.       road.
Widow L; mFiddle faddleI what you would Cuckold, or worse, I must now be contented:
put a trick upon me.
_t..c u 1.m......I'm not the first has married and repented.
Char. No, faith, widow, the trick is over; it
has taken sufficiently- and now I will teach you
the trick, to prevent your being cheated another  Enter LIEUTENANT-GOVERNOR, Bt,.4NDFORD,
time.                                                      and Planters.
Widow L. How! cheated, Mr. Weldon?          Bland. Have you no reverence for future
Char. Why, ay, you will always take things       fame?
by the wrong handle: I see you will have me, No awe upon your actions, from the tongues,
Mr. Weldon: I grant you I was Mr. Weldon The censuring tongues, of men, that will be free?
a little while, to please you or so; but Mr.
Stanmore here has persuaded me into a woman Re-enter STANMORE, JACK STANMORE, CHARagain.:   LOTTE WELDON, LucY, WIDOW  LACKITT,
Widow L. A woman! pray let me speak with   and DANIEL.
you. [Draws her aside.] You are not in earnest, So, Stanmore, you, I know, the women too,
hope, a woman?                           Will join with me:'tis Oroonoko's cause,
Char. Really. a woman.                   A lover's cause, a wretched woman's cause,
Widow L.'Gads my life! I could not:be cheat-'That will become your intercession.
ed in every thing. I know a man from a woman                           [To the Women.
at these years, or the devil is in't.  Pray did not   Stan. So far from further wrong, that'tis a
you marry me?                                     shame
Char. You would have it so.              He should be where he is. Good governor,
Widow: L. And did not I give you a thousand Order his liberty: he vielded up
pounds this morning 2                       Himself, his all, at your discretion.
Char. Yes, indeed,'twas more than. I deserved:   Bland. Discretion! no; he yielded on your
but you had' your: pennyworth for your penny, I    word;
suppose:. you seemed to.be pleased with your And I am made the cautionary pledge,
bargain.                                    The gage and hostage of your keeping it.
Widow L; A rare bargain I have'made on't, Remember, Sir, he yielded on your word;
truly! I have -laid out my money to a fine purpose Your word; which honest men will think shouls
upon.a woman.                                      be
Char. You would have a husband, and I pro- The last resort of truth an'l trust on earth:
vided for you as well as I could.          There's no appeal beyond it but to Heaven.
Widow L. Yes, yes, you have provided for me.   Stan. He's out of all power of doing any harm
Char.: And you have paid me very well for't; -now,. if he were disposed to, it.
I thank you.                                 Char. But he is not disposed to it.
Widow.-L.'Tis: very well: I may be with   Bland. To keep him where is, Will make him.
child too,. for. aught I know, and may go look for  soon
the father.                                Find out some desp'rate way to liberty:
Char. Nay, if you think so,'tis time to look'He'll hang himself, or dash out his mad brains.
about you, indeed. For my part, Mrs. Lackitt,   Char. Pray try him by gentle means: we'll all
your thousand pounds will engage me not to laugh be sureties for him.
at you.. Then, my sister is married to your son;   Omnes. All, all.
he is to have half your. estate, I know; and in-   Lucy. We will all answer for him now.
deed thev may' live upon it very comfortably to   Lieut.'Well, you will have it so; do what you
themselves, and very creditably to you.    please, just what you will, with'him; I give you
Widow L. Nay, I can blame nobody but my- leave..   [Exit.
self.''                                  Bland. We thank you, Sir; this way; pray
Char. You have enough for a husband still, come with me.                    [Exeunt,




S8CENE Iv.]                       OR 00 NO K.O.                                   583
SCENE II.                      Char. Nay, nothing extraordinary. But one
good action draws on another. You have given
the prince his freedom: now we come a begging
his back, his legs and arms stretched out, and  for his wife: you wontrefuse us.
~chained to the ground. Enter BLANDFORD,    Lieut. Refuse you? No, no, what have I to do
STANMORE. S4C.                             to refuse you? I send her to him! You do very
Bland. 0 miserable sight! help, ev'ry one,    well;'tis kindly done of you; even carry her to
Assist me all to free him from his chains.   him, with all my heart.
[ They help him up and bring himforward,   Lucy. You must tell us where she is.
looking down.                            Lieut. I tell you! why, don't you know?
Most injur'd prince! how shall we clear our-   Bland. Your servant says she's in the house.
selves?                         [all  Lieut. No, no, I brought her home at first indeed;
Oro. If you would have me think you are not but I thought it would not look well to keep her
Confederates, all accessary to               here: I removed her in the hurry only to take
The base injustice of your governor;         care of her. What! she belongs to you: I have
If you would have me live, as you appear     nothing to do with her.
Concern'd for me: if you would have me live    Char. Put where is she now, Sir?
To thank and bless. you; there is yet a way    Lieut. Why, faith, I can't say certainly: you'll
To tie me ever to your honest love;          hear of her at Parham-house, I suppose: there or
Bring mly Imoinda to me;. give me her,       thereabouts: I think I sent her there.
To cheer my sorrows, and, if possible,         Bland. I'll have an eye on him.    [Aside.
I'll sit down with my wrongs, never to rise        [Exeunt all but LI FEUTENANT-GOVERNOR.
Against my fate, or think of vengeaece more.   Lieut. I have lied myself into a little time,
Bland. Be satisfy'd, you may depend upon us, And must employ it-: they'll be here again;.We'll bring her safe to you, and suddenly.   But I must go before'em.
Char. We will not leave you in so good a'    [Going out, he meets IM0oNDA, and seizes
Widow L. No, no, we'll go with you.  [work.      her.
Bland. In the meantime,                    Are you come?
Endeavour to forget, Sir, and forgive;       I'll court no longer for a happiness
And hope a better fortune.                   Thatis in my own keeping: you may still
[- Exeunt all but OROONOKO. Refuse to grant, so I have power to'take.
Oro. Forget! forgive! I must indeed forget    The man thatasks deserves to be denied.
WVhen I forgive: but while I am a man,           [She disengages one hand, and draws his
In flesh, that bears the living marks of shame,    sword from his side upon him; COVERThe print of his dishonourable chains,             NOR starts and retires. BLANDFORD enMy memory still rousing up my wrongs,              ters behind him.
I never can forgive this governor,             Imo. He does indeed, that asks unworthily.
This villain; the disgrace of trust and place,  Bland. You hear her, Sir, that asks unAnd just contempt of delegated power.                worthily.
What shall I do? If I declare myself,  Lieut. You are no judge.
I know him, he will sneak behind his guard:Bland. I am, of my own slave.
Of followers, and brave me in his fears.       Lieut. Be gone, and leave us.
Else, lion-like, with my devouring rage,       Bland. When you let her go.
I would rush on him, fasten on his throat,       eut To fasten upon you.
Tear a wide passage to his treacherous heart,  Bland. I must defend nyself.
And that way lay him open to the world.          [IMOINDA retreats towards the door,,favour[Pauses.   -    ed by BANDFORD;' when they are closed,
If I should turn his Christian arts on him,        she throws down the sword and runs out.
GOVERNOR takes up his swo rd, thaeyfighut
Promise him, speak him fair, flatter, and creep    GOVERNOR takes up his soord, they fight,'With fawning steps, to get within his faith,      close, and fall, BANDFORD upon him.
I could betray him then, as he has me.             Servants enter and part them.
But am I sure by that to right myself          Lieut. She sha'n't escape me so; I've gone too
Lying s a certain mark of cowardice:.               far,
And, when the tongue forgets its honesty,    Not to go further. Curse on my delay.
The heart and hand may drop their functions too, But yet she is, and shall be in my power.
And nothing worthy be resolv'd or done.        Bland, Nay, then it is the war of honesty;
Let me but find out.                   I know you, and will save you from yourself.
An honest remedy, I have the hand,                                              [E.xeunt.
A minist'ring hand, that will apply it home.
[E.it~SCENE IV.
[Exit.
SCENE  III.-The LIEUTENANT-GOVERNOR'S                     Enter. OROONOKO.
House.                     iro. To honour bound! and yet a slave Lo
Enter LIEUTENANT-GOVERNOR.            I am distracted bv their rival powers,    [lo e!
And both will be obey'd.  0 great revenge!
Lieut. I would not have her tell me she con- Thou raiser and restorer of fall'n fame!
sents;                               Let me not be unworthy of thy aid,'In favour of the sex's modesty.             For stopping in thy course. I still am thine;
Enter BLANDFORD, STANMORE, JACK STANMORE, But can't forget I am Imoinda's too.
She calls me from my wrongs to rescue her.
No man condemn me, who has never felt
What t's the matter?                        A woman's power or tried the force of love,




584                               OROONOKO.                                    [ACT V.
To run his glorious race of light anew,      What is it thou wouldst tell me?
And carry on the world. Love, love will be     Imo.'Tis in vain to call him villain.
My first ambition, and my fame the next.       Oro. Call him governor: is it not so.
Enter ABOANx, bloody.              Imo. There's not another sure.      [hele,
Enzter ABOAN~, bloody.  Oro. Villain's the common name of mankind
My eyes are turn'd against me, and combine   But his most properly. What! what of him?
With my sworn enemies, to represent          I fear to be resolv'd, and must inquire.
This spectacle of horror. Aboan!            He had thee in his power.
Aboan. I have no name                        Imo. I blush to think it.
That can distingush me from the vile earth,    Oro. Blush! to think what?
To which I'm going: a poor abject worm,        Imo. That I was in his power.
That crawl'd awhile upon the bustling world,   Oro. He could not use it?
And now am trampled to my dust again.          Imo. What can't such men do?
Oro. I see thee gash'd and mangled!          Oro. But did he? durst he?
Aboan. Spare my shame,                       Imo. What he could he dar'd.
To tell how they have us'd me; but believe     Oro. His own gods damn him then! For ours
The hangman's hand would have been merciful.         have none,
Do not you scorn me, Sir, to think I can     No punishment for such unheard of crime.
Intend to live under this infamy. Imo. This monster, cunning in his flatteries,
I do not come for pity, to complain.         When he had weary'd all his useless arts,
I've spent an honourable life with you;      Leap'd out, fierce as a beast of prey, to seize me.
The earliest servant of your rising fame,    I trembled, fear'd.
And would attend it with my latest care:       Oro. I fear and tremble now.
My life was yours, and so shall be my death.  What could preserve thee? What deliver thee?
You must not live;                             Imo. That worthy man, you us'd to call your
Bending and sinking, I have dragg'd my steps   Oro. Blandford?                  [friendThus far, to tell you that you cannot live:    Imo. Came in, and sav'd me from his rage.
To warn you of those ignominious wrongs,       Oro. He was a friend indeed, to rescue thee!
Whips, rods, and all the instruments of death,   And, for his sake, I'll think it possible
Which I have felt, and are prepar'd for you.  A Christian may be yet an honest man.
1:'his was the duty that I had to pay.         Imo. 0 did you know what I have struggled'Tis done, and now I beg to be discharg'd.           through,
Oro. What shall I do for thee?            To save me yours, sure you would promise me
Aboan. My body tires,                      Never to see me forc'd from you again.
And wo'not bear me off to liberty:             Oro. To promise thee! 0! do I need to promise?
I shall again be taken, made a slave.        But there is now no further use of words.
A sword, a dagger, yet would rescue me.      Death is security for all our fears.
I have not strength to go and find out death,             [Shows ABOAN'S body on thefloor.
You must direct him to me.                   And yet I cannot trust him.
Oro. Here he is,     [Gives him a dagger.   Imo. Aboan!
The only present I can make thee now:          Oro. Mangled and torn, resolv'd to give me
And, next the honourable means of life,              time
I would bestow the honest means of death.    To fit myself for what I must expect,
Aboan. I cannot stay to thank you. If there is Groan'd out a warning to me, and expir'd.
A being after this, I shall be yours           Imo. For what you must expect?
In the next world, your faithful slave again.  Oro. Would that were all.
This is to try. [Stabs himself] I had a living   Imo. What, to be butcher'd thussense                                  Oro. Just as thou seest.
Of all your royal favours, but this last       Imo. By barb'rous hands to fall at last their
Strikes through my heart. I wo'not say farewell,     prey?
For you must follow me.               [Dies.   Oro. I have run the race with honour, shall I
Oro. In life and death,                            now
The guardian of my honour! Follow thee!      Lag, and be overtaken at the goal?
I should have gone before thee: then perhaps   Imo. No.
Thy fate had been prevented. All his care      Oro. I must look back to thee.    [Tenderly.
Was to preserve me from the barbarous rage     Imo. You sha'not need.
That worried him, only for being mine.       I am always present to your purpose; say,
Why, why ye gods: why am I so accurs'd,      Which way would you dispose me?
That it must be a reason of your wrath,      This dagger will instruct you. [ Gives it to him.
A guilt, a crime sufficient to the fate        Oro. Ha! this dagger!
Of any one, but to belong to me?            Like fate, it points me to the horrid deed.
My friend has found it out, and my wife will soon:   Imo. Strike, strike it home, and bravely save
My wife! the very fear's too much for life.           us both.
I can't support it. Where's Imoinda? Oh!    There is no other safety.
[Going out, he meets IMOINDA, who runs    Oro. It must be
into his arms.                         But first a dying kiss-          [Kisses her.
Thou bosom softness! Down of all my cares!    This last embrace            [Embraces her.
I could recline my thoughts upon this breast  And nowTo a forgetfulness of all my griefs,           Imo. I'm ready.
And yet be happy: but it wo'not be.            Oro. 0, where shall I strike?
Thou art disorder'd, pale, and out of breath!  Is there the smallest grain of that lov'd body
Tf fate pursue thee, find a shelter here.    That is not dearer to me than my eyes,




SCENE IV.]                        OROONOKO.                                        585
My bosom'd heart, and all the life blood there''Tis just that both should be employ'd in it
Bid me cut off these limbs, hew off these hands,   Thus, thus'tis finish'd, and I bless my fate.
Dig out these eyes, though I would keep them                                [Stabs herself.
To gaze upon thee: but to murder thee!   [last That, where I liv'd, I die in these lov'd arms.
The joy and charm of ev'ry ravish'd sense,                                         [Dies.
My wife! forbid it, nature.                    Oro. She's gone.  And now all's at an end
Imo.'Tis your wife,                               with me.
WVho on her knees conjures you. O! in time,   Soft, lay her down: O we will part no more.
Prevent those mischiefs that are falling on us.                    [ Throws himseLf by her.
You may be hurried to a shameful death,      But let me pay the tribute of my grief,
And I too dragg'd to the vile governor;      A few'sad tears to thy lov'd memory,
Then I may cry aloud. When you are gone,    And then I follow-[Shouts;  weeps over her.
Where shall I find a friend again to save me'    But I stay too long.     [A noise again.
Oro. It will be so. Thou unexampled virtue,  The noise comes nearer.,Hold, before 1 go,
Thy resolution has recover'd mine:           There's something would be done. It shall be so,
And now prepare thee.                        And then, Imoinda, I'll come all to thee. [Rises.
Imo. Thus, with open arms,                 Enter BLANDFORD and his party, before the
I welcome you and death.                       LIEUTENANT-GOVERNORandhisparty. Swords
[He drops the dagger as he looks on her,  drawn on both sides.
and throws himself on the ground.
Oro. I cannot bear it.                       Lieut. You strive in vain to save him, he shall
0 let me dash against the rock of fate,              die.
Dig up this earth, and tear her bowels out,    Bland. Not while we can defend him with our
To make a grave, deep as the centre down,            lives.
To swallow wide and bury us together!          Lieut. Where is he'
It wo'not be. Oh! then some pitying god        Oro. Here is the wretch whom you would
(If there be one a friend to innocence)              have.
Find yet a way to lay her beauties down      Put up your swords, and let no civil broils
Gently in death, and save me from her blood.    Engage you in the cursed cause of one
Imo. 0 rise,'tis more than death to see you Who cannot live, and now entreats to die;
thus.                                This object will convince you.
I'll ease your love, and do the deed myself-   Bland.'Tis his wife.
[She takes up the dagger, he rises in haste               [ They gather about the body
to take itfroin her.                   Alas, there was no other remedy.
Oro. O! hold, I charge thee, hold.          Lieut. Who did the bloody deed?
Imo. Though I must own                       Oro. The deed was mine:
It would be nobler for us both, from you.    Bloody I know it is, and I expect
Oro. O! for a whirlwind's wing to hurry us   Your laws should tell me so.  Thus self-conTo yonder cliff, which frowns upon the flood;        demnd,
That in embraces lock'd we might plunge in,    I do resign myself into your hands,
And perish thus in one another s arms.       The hands ofjustice-But I hold the sword
Imo. Alas! what shout is that..           For you —  and for myself.
Oro. -I see'em coming.                        [Stabs the GoVERNOR.and himself, then
They sha'not overtake us. - This last kiss,        throws himself by IMOINDA'S body.
And now farewell.'Tis as it should be now, I have sent his ghost
Imo. Farewell, farewell for ever!         To be a witness of that happiness
Oro. I'll turn my face away, and do it so.  In the next world, which he denied us here.
Now, are you ready'                                                               [Di~".
Into. Now. But do not grudge me             Bland. I hope there is a place of happiness
The pleasure, in my death, of a last look;   In the next world for such exalted virtue.
Pray look upon mne. —Now I'm satisfied.      Pagan or unbeliever, yet lie liv'd
Oro. So fate must be by this.              To all he knew: and, if he went astray,
[Going to stab her, he stops short; she lays There's mercy still above to set him right.
her hand on his, in order to give the blow. But Christians, guided by the heavenly ray,
Imo. Nay, then I must assist you.          Have no excuse if they mistake their way.
And since it is the common cause of both,                                       [Exeunt,
VoL...,- {E




THE COUNT'RY GIRL:
IN FIVE ACTS..BY DAVID GARRICK. EsQ.'REMARKS.; THIS comedy, originally called the Country Wife, was written by Wycherly, a witty companic-, of Charles the
Second, and a favourite of that social and dissolute monarch. The most entertaining parts of'his play, to the
age for which it was written, are precisely those which the purer taste of the present woulli eject. Mr. Gar
rick revived this piece, in 1766, when Manager of Drury Lane Theatre; and his judicious alterations have ren
dered it worthy the approbation of the public.
Mrs. Jordan made her first appearance on the London stage in the character of Peggy; in w'hich she displayed
that native talent, grace, simplicity, and harmony, which so long rendered her an object of bo-'dless attractiot
and applause.
DRAMATIS PERSON./E.
DRURY LANE.                        COVEg'r GARD~EN
MOODY,........................ Mr. Bartley,......................... Mr. flwcett.
HARCOURT..................r. Wallack....................Mr. iBLrrymore
SPARKISH........  M.........     r. S. Penlev............. Mr.,sArley.
BELVILLE........               Mr. Barna.................   Mr H1asmerton.
WILLIAM,........                Mr. Maddocks,.....................Mr Afenage.
COUNTRYMAN,.........           Mr. Minton...................      Mr Howell.
JOHN,........          r. Coveney,..                     Mr W. Chapman.
MIss PEGGY..................Mrs. Mardyn.                          Mrs. Alsop.
ALITHEA,................. M......rs. Orger....................Miss Matthews.
LUCY,.........Miss Tidswell........................ Mrs. Gibbs.
ACT I.                       possession of what I must despair now ever to
obtain-Heigho!
SCENVE  I.-HARCOURTrs Lodgings.              Har. Ha, ha, ha! very foolish indeed.
Belt. Don't laugh at me, uncle; I am foolish, I
HARCOURT and BELVILLE discovered silting,   know; but like other fools, I deserve to be pitied.
Har. Pr'ythee don't talk of pity; how can 1
Har. Ha, ha, ha! and so you are in love, help you? for this country girl of yours is certainly
nephew; not reasonably and gallantly, as a voung  married.
gentleman ought, but sighingly, miserably so;    Bel. No, no-I wont believe it; she is not
not content to be ancle-deep, you have soused  married, nor she sha'n't be, if I can help it.
over head and ears-ha. Dick 1                      Har. Well said, modesty; with such a spirit
Bel. I am pretty much in that condition, in- you can help yurself, Dick, without my asdeed, uncle.                           [Sighs. sistance.
Har. Nay, never blush at it: when I was of    Bel. But you must encourage and advise me
your age I was ashamed too; but three years at too, or I shall never make any thing of it.
college, and half a one at Paris, methinks should    Har. Provided the girl is not married; for 1
have cured you of that unfashionable weakness- never encourage young men to covet their neighmodesty.                                        bours' wives.
Bel. Could I have released myself from that, T    Bel. My heart assures me, that she is not marhad perhaps been at this instant happy in the  ried.
586




sCENE' 1                   THE COUNTRY G:IRL.                                      587;iar. 0, to be sure, your heart is: much to be were not.at home, but would return directly;
relied upon; but to convince you that:I have a " And so will I too," said he, very short and surly 
fellow-feeling of your distress, and that I am as and away he went mumbling to himself.
nearly allied to you in misfortunes as in relation-   Har. Very well, Will; I'll see him when he
ship, you must know-                         comes. [Exit SERVANT.] Moody call to see me!Bel. What, uncle?  you; alarm me!         He has something more in his head than making
Har.  That I am in love too.               me a visit;'tis to complain of you, I suppose.
Bel. Indeed!                                Bel. How can he know me t. 
Har. Miserably in love.                      Ilar, We must suppose the worst, and be preBel. That's charming.                     pared for him; tell me all you know of this.wart
FHat. And my mistress is just going to be mar- of his, this Peggy-Peggy what's her name?
ted to another.                                Bel. Thrift, Thrift, uncle.
Bel. Better and better.                      Har. Ay, ay, Sir Thomas Thrift's daughter,
Har. I knew my fellow-sufferings would please of Hampshire; and left very young, under the
you; but now prepare for the wonderful wonder- guardianship of my old companion and acquaintof-wonders!                                  ance, Jack Moody.
Bel. Well!                                   Bel. Your companion!-he's old enough to be
Har. My mistress is in the same house with your father.
yours.                                         Har; Thank you, nephew-he has greatly the
Bel. What, are you in love with Peggy too?   advantage of me in years, as well as wisdom.
[Risingfrom his chair. When I first launched from the university, into
liar. Well said, jealousy. No, no, set your this ocean of London, he was the greatest -rake in
heart at rest; your Peggy is too young, and too it; I knew him well for near two years, but all of
simple for me.. I: must have one a little more a sudden he took a freak (a very prudent one) of
knowing, a little better bred, just. old enough to retiring wholly into the country.
see the- difference between me and a coxcomb,   Bel. There he gained such an ascendency over
spirit enough -to break from a brother's engage- the odd disposition of his neighbour, Sir Thomas,
ments, and choose for herself.               that he left hint sole guardian to his daughter;
Bel. You don't mean Alithea, who is to be who forfeits half her fortune, if she does not marry
married to Mr. Sparkish?                    with his consent-there's the devil, uncle.
Har. Can't I be.in love with a lady that is go-   Har. And are you so young, so foolish, and so
ing to be married to another, as well as you, Sir?  much in love, that you would take her with half
Bel. But Sparkish is your friend?         her value? ha, nephew?
Har. Pr'ythee don't call him my friend; he   Bel. I'll take her with any thing-with nocan be nobody's friend, not even his own. —He thing.
would thrust himself into my acquaintance, would   Har. What! such an unaccomplished,. awkintroduce me to his mistress, though I have told ward, silly creature 1 he has scarce taught her to
him again and again that I was in love with her; write; she has seen nobody to converse with, but
which, instead of ridding.me of him, has made the country people about'em; so she can do nohim only ten times more troublesome, and. me thing but dangle her arms, look gawky, turn her.eallv in. love. He: should suffer for his self-suf- toes in, and talk broad Hampshire.
ficiency.                                      Bel. Don't abuse her sweet simplicity; had you
Bel.'Tis a conceited puppy!-And what suc- but heard her talk, as I have done, from the garcess with the lady 1                         den-wall in the country, by moon-lightlar. No great hopes; and yet if I could defer   Har. Romeo and Juliet, I protest, ha, ha, ha!
the marriage a few days, I should not despair; ".Arise fair sun, and kill the envious-" ha, ha,
but honour, I am confident. is her only attach- ha! How often have you seen this fair Capulet 2
ment to my rival: she can't like Sparkish; and if   Bel. I saw. her three times in the country, and
I can work upon his credulity,, a credulity which spoke to her twice;* I have leaped an orchard wall,
even. popery would be ashamed of, I may yet have like Romeo, to come at her; played the balcony
the chance of throwing sixes upon the dice to scene, from an old summer-house in the garden;
save me.                                     and if I lose her, I will find out an apothecary,
Bel. Nothing can save me.                  and play the tomb scene too.
lHar. No, not if you.whine and sigh, when you. ar.: Well. said, Dick!-this spirit must proshould be exerting every thing that is man about duce something; but has the old dragon ever
you. I have sent Sparkish, who is admitted at all caught you sighing at her?
ours, in the house, to,know how the land lies   Bel. Never in the country; he saw me yesterfor you, and if she is not married already.  day kissing my hand to her, ifrom the new tavern
-Bel. How cruel. you are-you raiseme up with window that looks upon the. back of his house;
one hand, and then you knock me down with the and immediately drove her from it, and fastened
other.                                       up the window-shutters.
Har. Well, well, she sha'n't be married.   Spark. [Without.] Very well, Will, I'll go up
rKnocking at the door.] This is Sparkish, I sup- to'em.
pose: don't drop the least hint of your passion to    Har. I hear Sparkish coming up; take care of
him; if you do, you may as well advertise it in what I told you; not a word of Peggy; hear his
the public papers.. intelligence, and make.use of it, without seeming
Bel. I'll be careful.                     to mind it.
Bel. Mum, mum, uncle.
Enter a SERV ANT.
Enter SPARKISH.
Serv. An odd sort of a person, from the country,
i believe, who calls himself Moody, wants to see   Spark. 0, my dear Harcourt, I shall die with
you, Sir; but as I did not know him, I said you laughing; I have such news for thee-ha, ha.




588                        THE COUNTRY GIRL.                                 [ACT Y.
ha!-What, your nephew too, and a little dump- ing ashamed to show himself; swore he was in
ish, or so; you have been giving him a lecture love with his wife, and intended to cuckold him.
upon economy. I suppose, you, who never had " Do you." cried Moody, folding his arms, and
any, can best describe the evils that arise from the scowling with his eyes thus-" You must have
want of it. I never mind my own affairs, not I-  more wit than you used to have; besides, if you
" The gods take care of'Cato."-1 hear, Mr. Bel- have as much as you think you have, I shall be
ville, you have got a pretty snug house, with a out of your reach, and this profligate metropolis,
bow-window that looks into the Park, and a back- in less than a week."-Moody would fain have
ioor that goes out into it. Very convenient, and got rid of him, but the other held him by the
well imagined-no young handsome fellow should sleeve, so I left'em; rejoiced most luxuriously to
be without one-you may be always ready there, see the poor devil tormented.
like a spider in his web, to seize upon strayed wo-   Bel. I thought you said, just now, that he wias
men of quality.                             not married; is not that a contradiction, Sir?
Har. As you used to do-you vain fellow you;    [HARCOURtT still makes signs to BELVILLE.
pr'ythee, don't teach my nephew your abandoned   Spark. Why, it is a kind of one; but considertricks; he is a modest young man, and you must ing your modesty, and the ignorance of the young
not spoil him.                              lady, you are pretty tolerably inquisitive, meSpark. May be so; but his modesty has done thinks; ha, Harcourt! ha, ha, ha!
some mischief at our house-my surly, jealous   Har. Pooh, pooh! don't talk to that boy, tell
brother-in-law saw that modest young gentleman me all you know.
casting a wishful eye at his forbidden fruit, from    Spark. You must know, my booby of a brothe new tavern window.                     ther-in-law hath brought up this ward of his (a
Bel. You mistake the person, Mr. Sparkish; I good fortune let me tell you,) as he coops up and
don't know what young lady you mean.       fattens his chickens, for his own eating; he is
Har. Explain yourself, Sparkish, you must plaguy jealous of her, and was very sorry that he
mistake; Dick has never seen the girl.     could not marry her in the country, without
Spark. I don't say he has; I only tell you coming up to town; which he could not do on
what Moody says.  Besides. he went to the account of some writings or other; so what does
tavern himself, and inquired of the waiter who my gentleman? he persuades the poor silly girl,
dined in the back room, No. 4? and they told him  by breaking a sixpence, or some nonsense or
it was Mr. Belville, your nephew; that's all I another, that they are to all intents married in
know of the matter, or desire to know of it, faith. heaven; but that the laws require the signing of
Har. He kissed his hand, indeed, to your lady, articles and the church service to complete their
Alithea, and is more in love with her than you union: so he has made her call him husband, and
are, and very near as much as I am; so look about bud, which she constantly does; and he calls her
you, such a youth may be dangerous.         wife, and gives out she is married, that she may
Spark. The more danger the more honour: I not look after younger fellows, nor younger feldefy you both-win her and wear her if you lows after her, egad; ha, ha, ha! and all wont do
can-Dolus an virtus in love as well as in war-   Bel. Thank you, Sir. What heavenly news,
though you must be expeditious, faith; for, I be- uncle!                        [Aside.
iieve, if I don't change my mind, I shall marry   Har. What an idiot you are, nephew! [Apart.]
her to-morrow, or the day after.-Have you no And so then you make but one trouble of it, and
honest clergyman, Harcourt, no fellow-collegian are both to be tacked together the same day 
to recommend me, to do the business?         Spark. No, no, he can't be married this week'
Har. Nothing ever, sure, was so lucky. [Aside.] he damns the lawyers for keeping him in town;Why, faith, I have, Sparkish; my brother, a twin- besides, I am out of favour; and he is continually
brother, Ned Harcourt, will be in town to-day, snarling at me, and abusing me for not being jeaand proud to attend your commands.-I am a lous. [Knocking at the door.] There he is-1
very generous rival, you see, to lend you my bro- must not be seen with you, for he'll suspect somether to marry the woman I love!            thing; I'll wait for you, and make a visit to my
Spark. And so am I too, to let your brother wife that is to be, and perhaps we shall show
come so near us-but Ned shall be the man; poor young modesty here a sight of Peggy too.
Alithea grows impatient; -I can't put off the evil
day any longer. I fancy the brute, her brother,        Re-enter a SERVANT.
has a mind to marry his country idiot at the same
time.                                        Serv. Sir, here's the strange odd sort of a genBel. How, country idiot, Sir?           tleman come again, and I have shown him into
Har. Hold your tongue. [Apart to BELVILLE.] the fore-parlour.
I thought he had been married already.        Spark. That must be Moody! Well said,
Spark. No, no, he's not married, that's the Will; an odd sort of a strange gentleman, indeed;
joke of it.                                we'll step into the next room till he comes into
Bel. No, no, he is not married.          this, and then you may have him all to yourHar. Hold your tongue-                   self-much good may he do you. [Going.] Re[Elbowing BELVILLE. member that he is married, or he'll suspect me of
Spark. Not he-I have the finest story to tell betraying him.
you-by the by, he intends calling upon you, for        [Exeunt SPARKISH and BELVILLE
he asked me where you lived, to complain of mo-   Har. Show him up, Will. [Exit SERVANT.]
desty there. He picked up an old raking ac- Now must I prepare myself to see a very strange,
quaintance of his as we came along together, though a very natural metamorphosis; a once highWill Frankly, who saw him with his girl, skulk- spirited, handsome, well-dressed, raking prodigal
ng and muffled up, at the play last night; he of the town, sunk into a surly, suspicious, econo.
plagued him much about matrimony, and his be- mical, country sloven.




sesNE 1!                  THE COUNTRY GIRL.                                       589
Enter MOODY.                   Har. My nephew!-poor sheepish lad, he runs
away from every woman he sees; he saw your
M loo. Mr. Harcourt, your humble servant: sister Alithea at the opera, and was much smitten
have you forgot me'                         with her; he always toasts her, and hates the
Har. What, my old friend Jack Moody! by very name of Sparkish. I'll bring him to your
thy long absence from the town, the grumness house, and you shall see what a formidable Tarof thy countenance, and the slovenliness of thy  quin he is.
habit, I should give thee joy-you are certainly    Moo. I have no curiosity, so give yourself no
married.                                     trouble.-You have heard of a wolf in sheep's
Moo. My long stay in the country will excuse clothing; and I have seen your innocent nephew
my dress, and I have a suit at law that brings me kissing his hands at my windows.
up to town, and puts me out of humour; besides,   Har. At your sister, I suppose; not at her, un1 must give Sparkish ten thousand pounds to- less he was tipsy. How can you, Jack, be so
morrow to take my sister off my hands.       outrageously suspicious' Sparkish has promised
Har. Your sister is very much obliged to you: to introduce him to his mistress.
being so much older than you, you have taken    Moo. Sparkish is a fool, and may be what I'll
upon you the authority of a father, and have en- take care not to be-I confess my visit to you,
gaged her to a coxcomb.                      Mr. Harcourt, was partly for old acquaintance
Moo. I have, and to oblige her: nothing but sake, but chiefly to desire your nephew to confine
coxcombs or debauchees are the favourites now-a- his gallantries to the tavern, and not send'em in
days; and a coxcomb is rather the more innocent looks, signs, or tokens, on the other side of the
animal of the two.                           way. I keep no brothel; so pray tell your neHar. She has sense and taste, and can't like phew.                             [Going.
him; so you must answer for the consequences.  Har. Nay, pr'ythee, Jack, leave me in better
Moo. When she is out of my hands, her hus- humour.  Well, I'll tell him; ha, ha, ha! Poor
band must look to consequences. He's a fashion- Dick, how he'll stare. This will give him a repuable fool, and will cut his horns kindly.    tation, and the girls wont laugh at him any
Har. And what is to secure your worship from  longer. Shall we dine together at the tavern, and
consequences — I did not expect marriage from  send for my nephew to chide him for his gallantsuch a rake-one that knew the town so well; ry' Ha, ha, ha! we shall have fine sport.
fy, fy, Jack.                                  Moo. I am not to be laughed out of my senses,
Moo. I'll tell you my security-I have married  Mr. Harcourt.- I was once a modest young
no London wife.                              gentleman myself; and I never have been half so
Har. That's all one; that grave circumspec- mischievous before or since, as 1 was in that state
Lion in marrying a country wife, is like refusing a of innocence.-And, so, old friend, make no ceredeceitful, pampered, Smithfield jade, to go and be mony with me; I have much business, and you
cheated by a friend in the country.          have much pleasure, and therefore as I hate
Moo. I wish the devil had both him and his forms, I will excuse your returning my visit, or
simile.                                      sending your nephew to satisfy me of his modesty
Har. Well, never grumble about it, what's -and so your servant.                 [Exit.
done can't be undone. Is your wife handsome   Har. Ha, ha, ha! poor Jack! what a life of
and young.                 suspicion does he lead! I pity the poor fellow,
Moo. She has little beauty but her youth, no- though he ought and will suffer for his follything to brag of but her health, and no attraction  Folly!-'tis treason, murder, sacrilege! When
but her modesty-wholesome, homely, and house- persons of a certain age will indulge their false,
wifely; that's all.                          ungenerous appetites, at the expense of a young
Ia Hr. You talk as like a grazier as you look, creature's happiness, dame Nature will revenge
Jack. Why did you not bring her to town before, herself upon them, for thwarting her most hea,
to be taught something'                     venly will and pleasure.              [Exit.
Moo. Which something I might repent as long
as I live.. Har. But pr'ythee, why wouldst thou marry
her, if she be ugly, ill-bred, and silly' she must  SCENE I.-A Chamber in MOODY's House.
be rich then?
l0oo. As rich as if she had the wealth of the       Enter PEGGY and AIITHEA.
mogul. She'll not ruin her husband, like a Lon-   Peg. Pray, sister, where are the best fields and
don baggage, with a million of vices she never woods to walk in, in London'
heard of: then, because she's ugly,'she's the    Ali. A pretty question! why, sister, Vauxhall,
likelier to be my own; and being ill-bred, she'll Kensington Gardens, and St. James' Park, are
hate- conversation; and since silly and innocent, the most frequented.
will not know the difference between me and you;   Peg. Pray, sister, tell me why my bud looks so
that is, between a man of thirty, and one of forty. grum here in town, and keeps me up so close, and
Har. Fifty, to my knowledge. [MoocDY turns wont let me go a walking, nor let' me wear my
q  and grumbles.]-But see how you and I dif- best gown yesterday?
fer, Jack-wit to me is more necessary than beau-   Ali. O, he's jealous, sister!
ty; I think no young woman ugly that has it,   Peg. Jealous! what's that'.
and, no handsome woman agreeable without it.   All. He's afraid you should love another man
Moo.'Tis my maxim-He's a fool that mar-   Peg. How should he be afraid of my loving
ries; but he's a greater that does not marry a another man, when he will not let me see any but
fool.-I know the town, Mr. Harcourt; and my himself' 
wife shall be virtuous in spite of you or your ne-   Ali. Did he not carry you yesterday to a play I
phew.                                          Peg. Ay; but we sat amongst ugly peoples ho
50




590                        THE COUNTRY GIRL.                                   [ACT IL
would not let me come near the gentry, who sat   Peg. You are my own dear bud, and I know
under us. so that I could see'em. He told me you; I hate strangers.
none but naughty women sat there; but I would    Moo. Ay, my dear, you must love me only
have ventured'for all that.                 and not be like the naughty town women, who
Ali. But how did you like the play?       only hate their husbands, and love every man
Peg. Indeed I was weary'of the play; but I else:; love plays, visits, fine coaches, fine clothes,
liked hugeously the actors; they are the goodliest,; fiddles, balls, treats, and so lead a wicked town
properest men, sister.                      life.
Ali. 0, but you must not like the actors, sister.   Peg. Nay, if to enjoy all these things be a
Peg. Ay, how should- I help it, sister? pray, town life, London is not so bad a place, dear.
sister, when my guardian comes in, will-you ask    Moo. How! if you love me, you must hate
leave for me to go a walking'             London.
Ali. A walking! ha, ha, ha! Lord, a country    Peg. Bud, bud, do the town women love the
gentlewoman's pleasure is-the drudgery of a foot- player-men too?
post; and she requires as much airing as her hus-:  Moo. Ay, I warrant you.
band's horses. [Aside.] But here comes: my bro-   Peg. Ay, I warrant you.
ther; I'll ask him, though -I'm'sure he'll not-' Moo. Why, you do not, I hope?
grant it.                                      Peg. No, no, bud; but why have we no playermen in the'Country?
Enter MooDY.'                  Moo. Ha! Mrs. Minx, ask'me: no more to go
to a play.
Peg. O my dear, dear bud, welcome home;   Peg. Nay, why, love?  I did not care for gowhy dost thou look so fropisl? who has nanger'd ing; but when you forbid me, you make me as it
thee?    -                                   were desire it.  Pray, let' mego to a play, dear?
Moo. You're a fool.                          /loo. Hold your peace; I wont.
[PEGGY goes aside and cries.   Peg. Why, love?
Ali. Faith, and so she is, for crying for no   Moo. Why, I'll tell you.
fault; poor tender creature!                   Peg. Pray why, dear?,M1oo. What, you would have her as impudent   Moo. First, you like the actors; and the galas yourself; as arrant a girl-flirt, a gadder, a lants may like you.
magpie; and, to say all, a mere notorious town    Peg. What, a homely country girl? no, bud,
woman!                                      nobody will like me.
All. Brother, you are my only censurer: and   M1loo. I tell you yes, they may.
the honour of your family will sooner suffer in    Peg. No, no, you jest-I wont believe you; 1
your wife that is to be, than in me, though I take:will go.
the innocent liberty of the town!          -  AMoo. I tell you then, that one of the most
Moo. Hark you, mistress! do not talk so be- raking fellows in town, who saw you there, told
fore tny wife: the innocent liberty of the town!  me he was in love with you.
Ali. Pray, what ill people frequent my lodg-   Peg. Indeed! who, who, pray who was't?
ings? I keep no company with any woman of  Mffoo. I've gone too far,: and slipt before I was
scandalous reputation.                       aware. How overjoyed she is?         [Aside.
Moo. No, you keep the men of scandalous.  Peg. Was it any Hampshire gallant? any of
reputation company.                          our neighbours?-'Promise you I am beholden to
Ali. Would you not have me civil  answer him.'em at public places?  walk with'em when they    Moo. I promise you, you lie; for: he would but
join me in the Park, Kensington Gardens, or; ruin you, as he has done hundreds.
Vauxhall: Peg. Ay, but if he loves me, why should he
Moo. Hold, hold; do not teach my wife where'ruin me-? answer me to that. Methinks he should
the men are to be found; I believe she:'s the'not; I would do him no harm.
worse for your town documents already. I bid   Ali. Ha, ha, ha!
you keep her in ignorance, as I do.            Moo.'Tis very well; but I'll keep him from
Peg. Indeed, be not angry with her, bud, she doing you any harm, or me either. But here
will tell me nothing of the town, though I ask her comes company; get you in, get you in.
a thousand times a day.                        Peg. But pray, husband, is he a pretty gentleMoo. Then you are very inquisitive to know, I man that loves me?
find.                                          Moo. In baggage, in. [Thrusts her in, and
Peg. Not I, indeed, dear; I hate London: shuts the door.] what, all the libertines of the
our place-house in the country is worth a thou- town brought to my lodging by this easy coxsand of't would I were there again!         comb!'sdeath, I'll not suffer it.'
Moo. So you shall, I warrant. But were you
not talking of plays and players when I came in?    Enter SPARKISH, HARCOURT., and BELVILLE.
you are her encourager in such discourses.
[To ALITHEA.   Spark. Here, Belville, do you approve my
Peg. No, indeed, dear: she chid me just now  choice? Dear little rogue, I told you I'd bring
for liking the player-men.                   you acquainted with all my friends, the wits.
Moo. Nay, if she is so innocent- as to own to                            [To ALITHEA.
me her liking them, there is no harm in't. [Aside.]   Moo. Ay, they shall know her as well as yourCome, my poor rogue, but thou likest none better self will, I warrant you.        [Aside.
than me?                                      Spark. This is one of those, my pretty rogue,
Peg. Yes, indeed, but I do; the player-men that are'to' dance at your wedding to-morrow;
are finer folks.                            and one you must make welcome; for he's modest.
— Moo. But you love none better than me?  [BEIv.IT,L,E salutes ALITHEA.] Harcourt makes




SCENE I.]                  THE  C O U N TR Y'GI R L.                             591
himself welcome, and has not the same foible, my power::to break the matchr; by heavens, I
though of the same family. -.:'    would.
Har. You are too obliging, Sparkish.     -:Spark.-:Poor. Frank!
Mloo. And so he is, indeed.:The fop's horns: Ali. Would -you be so unkind to me?
will as naturally sprout upon his brows as mush-   Har. No, no,'tis not -because -I would be unrooms upon dunghills.                [Aside. kind to you....
Har. This, Mr. Moody, is my nephew you    Spark. Poor Frank! no, "'egad, tis only his
mentioned to me. I would bring him with me; kindness to me..
for a sight of him will be sufficient, without   Ali. Great kindness to you indeed!-Insenpoppy or mandragora, to restore you to rest.  sible! let a man make love to his mistress to his
Bel. I am sorry, Sir, that any mistake or im- face.                             [Aside,
prudence of mine should have given you any un-:Spark. Come, dear Frank, for: all my wife
easiness; it was not so intended, I- assure you, there, that shall be, thou shalt enjoy me someSir.                                         times, dear rogue.-By: my honour, we men of.Moo. It may be so, Sir, but not the less:crimi- wit condole for our deceased brother in marriage,
nal for that.-My wife, Sir, must not be smirked as:much as for one dead Iin earnest. I think
and nodded at from tavern windows. I am a good that was prettily said of me, ha, Harcourt?shot, young gentleman, and don't suffer magpies Pr'ythee, Frank, dost think my wife, that shall
to come near my cherries.                    be, there, a fine person?
Bel.. Was it your wife, Sir?.             iMar. I could gaze upon her till I became as.Moo' What's that to you, Sir? suppose it blind as you are.
were my grandmother?                          Spark..How as I: am? how?2
Bel. I would not dare to offend her.-Permit   Har. Because you are a lover; and true lovers
me to say a word in private to you.          are; blind.. [Exeunt MOODY and BEL.   Spark. True, true; but by the world she has
Spark. Now old surly is gone, tell me, Har- wit too, as well as.beauty. Go, go with her into
court, if thou likest her as well as ever.-My  a corner, and try if she has wit; talk to her any
dear, don't look, down; I should hate to have a thing; she's bashful before me —take her into a
wife of mine out of countenance at any thing.    corner.  [HARCOURT courts ALITIEA aside.
All. For shame, Mr. Sparkish!
Spark. Tell me, I say, Harcourt, how dost                Re-enter MOODY.
like her? thou hast stared upon her enough to
resolve me.                                    Moo. How, Sir! If you are not concerned for
Hlat. So infinitely well that I could wish I had the honour of a wife, I am for that of a sister.a mistress too, that might differ from her in no- Be a pander to your own wife, bring men to her,
thing but her love and engagement to you.    let'em make love before your face, thrust'em into
Ali. Sir, Mr. Sparkish has often told me that a corner together, then leave'em in private! is
his acquaintance were all wits and railers; and this your town wit and conduct?'
now.I find it.                                Spark. Ha, ha, ha! a silly, wise rogue would
Sjark. No, by the universe, Madam, he does make one laugh more than a stark fool, ha, ha,
not rally now; you may believe him. I do assure.ha! I shall burst.. Nay, you shall not disturb
you he is the honestest, worthiest, true-hearted'em; 1'1l vex thee, by the world..What ~have
gentleman; a man of such perfect honour, he you done with Belville?
would say nothing to a lady he does not mean.-   [Struggles with MOODY'to keep him from
Higar. Sir, you are so beyond expectation ob-     HARCOURT and ALITHEA.
Ilging, that-. Moo. Shown him the way out of my house, as
Spark. Nay,'egad, I am sure you do admire you should do that gentleman.
her extremely;- I see it in. your eyes. —He does   Spark. Nay, but pr'ythee'let: me- reason with
admire you, M1adam'; he has told me so a thou- thee.            [Talks apart with MooDY.
sand and a thousand times; have you not, Har-   Ali. The writings are drawn, Sir, settlements
court? you do admire her, by the world,'you: do-  made;'tis too late, Sir, and past all revocation.
dol't you?.                                   Mar. Then so is my death..iar.  Yes, above the world, or the most glo-   Ali. I would not be unjust to him.
rious part of. it, her whole sex; and till now I. Har. Then why to me so?:
never thought I should have envied- you or any   Ali. I have no obligations to you.
man about to marry; but you have the best ex-  -Har. My love.
cuse to marry I ever knew.                     Ali. I had his before.
Ali. Nay, now Sir, I am satisfied you are of. Har. You never had it;'he wanls, you see,
the society of the wits and railers, since you can- jealousy, the only infallible sign of it.
not spare your friend, even when he is most civil   Ali. Love proceeds from esteem: he cannot
to you; but the surest sign is, you are an enemy distrust my virtue; besides; he loves me, or he
to marriage, the common butt of every railer.  would not marry me.
Har. Truly, Madam, I was never an enemy   Har. Marrying you is no more a sign of his
to marriage till now, because marriage was never love, than bribing your woman, that he may
an enemy to me before.                       marry you, is a sign of his generosity. But if
Ali. but why, Sir, is marriage an enemy to you take marriage for a sign of love, take it from
you now? because it robs you of your friend me immediately.
here.? for you look upon a friend married as one   Ali. No, now you have put. a scruple in my
gone into:a monastery; that is, dead to the world. head.-But'in short, Sir, to end our' dispute, 1
Har.'Tis indeed because you marry him: I. must marry him; my reputation would suffer in
see, Madam, you can guess my meaning.-I do the world else.. 
confess heartily and openly, -I wish it were in.  Har. No; if vou do marry him, with vour par



592                         THE COUNTRY GIRL.                                  [ACTrI.
don. Madam, your reputation must suffer in the    Har, Because I do not think on't, faith.
world.                                         Spark. Come, Belville is gone away; Harcourt
Ali. Nay, now you are rude, Sir.-Mr. Spark- let's be gone to the new play; come, Madam.
ish, pray come hither, your friend here is very   Ali. 1 will not go, if you intend to leave me
troublesome, and very loving.                alone in the box, and run all about the house, as
Har. Hold, hold.        [Aside to ALITHEA. yOU used to do.
Moo. D'ye hear that, senseless puppy?        Spark. Pshaw! I'll leave Harcourt with you
Spark. Why, d'ye think I'll seem jealous, like in the box, to entertain you, and that's as good.
a country bumpkin?                          If I sat in the box, I should be thought no critic.
Moo. No, rather be dishonoured, like a credu- I must run about, my dear, and abuse the aulous driveller.                              thor.-Come, away. Harcourt, lead her down.
Har. Madam, you would not have been so lit- B'ye, brother.
tie generous as to have told him?             [Exeunt HARCOURT, SPARKISH, and ALITHEA.
Ali. Yes, since you could be so little generous   Moo. B'ye, driveller. Well, go thy ways, for
as to wrong him.                             the flower of the true town fops; such as spend
Har. Wrong him! no man can do it; he's their estates before they come to'em, and are
beneath an injury; a bubble, a coward, a sense- cuckolds before they're married. But let me go
less idiot; a wretch so contemptible to all the look to my freehold.
world- but you, that —
Ali. Hold, do not rail at him; for since he is        Enter a COUNTRYMAN.
like to be my husband, I am resolved to like him:   Coun.  aster, your worship's servant. Here
nay, I think I am obliged to tell him you are not is the lawyer, counsellor gentleman, with a green
his friend-Mr. Sparkish, Mr. Sparish           lawyer, counsellor gentleman, with a green
his frienkd-Mr. hparklsN, Mr. SparkL ru!     bag full of papers, come again, and should be
Spark. What, what? —Now, dear rogue, has glad to speak to you.
she not wit                                                you.
~~~~she not wit?~~''Joo. Now here's some other damned impediHar. Not so much as I thought, and hoped she ment, whih the law has thrown  in our way. I.  shall never marry the girl, nor get clear of the
All. Mr. Sparkish, do you bring people to rail smoke and wickedness of this cursed town.
liar. Madam!                               [Aside.] Where is he?
Coun. He's below in a coach, with three other
Spark. How? no; but if he does rail at me, lawyers, counsellor gentlemen.    [Exeunt.'tis but in jest, I warrant: what we wits do for
one another, and never take any notice of it.
Ali. He spoke so scurrilously of you, I had no   SCENE  IL-Another Chamber.
patience to hear him.
Moo. And he was in the right on't.                   Enter PEGGY and LucY.
Ali. Besides, he has been making love to me.    Lucy. What ails you, Miss Peggy? you are
Moo. And I told the fool so.               grown quite melancholy.
Har. True, damned tell-tale woman.  [Aside.   Peg. Would it not make any one melancholy
Spark. Pshaw! to show his parts; we wits to see your mistress Alithea go every day flutterrail and make love often, but to show our parts; ing about abroad to plays and assemblies, and I
as we have no affections, so we have no malice; know not what, whilst I must stay at home, like
we-                                          a poor, lonely, sullen bird in a cage?
Moo. Did you ever hear such an ass?         Lucy. Dear Miss Peggy, I thought you chose
Ali. He said you were a wretch, below an in- to be confined: I imagined that you had been
jury.                                        bred so young to the cage, that you had no pleaSpark. Pshaw!                             sure in flying about, and hopping in the open air,
Ali. A common bubble.                      as other young ladies, who go a little wild about
Spark. Pshaw!                             this town.
Ali. A coward.                               Peg. Nay, I confess I was quiet enough, till
Spark. Pshaw, pshaw!                      somebody'told me what pure lives the London
Ali. A senseless, drivelling idiot.       ladies lead, with their dancing meetings, and
-Moo. True, true, true; all true.          junketings, and dressed every day in their best
Spark. How! did he disparage my parts? nay gowns; and I warrant you, play at nine-pins
then, my honour's concerned. I can't put ap every day in the week, so they do.
that. Brother, help me to kill him. [ Offers to draw.   Lucy. To be sure, Miss, you will lead a better
Ali. Hold! hold!                          life when joined in holy wedlock with your sweetMoo. If Harcourt would but kill Sparkish, and tempered guardian, the cheerful Mr. Moody?
run away with my sister, I should be rid of three   Peg. I can't lead a worse, that's one good
plagues at once.                     [Aside. thing; but I must make the best of a bad market,
Ali. Indeed, to tell the truth, the gentleman for I can't marry nobody else.
said, after all, that what he spoke was but out of   Lucy. How so, Miss? that's very strange.
Criendship to you.                             Peg. Why, we have a contraction to one
Spark. How! say I am a fool; that is no wit, another; so we are as good as married, you
out of friendship to me.                     know.
Ali. Yes, to try whether I was concerned    Lucy. I know it!-Heaven forbid, Miss.
enough for you; and made love to me only to be   Peg. Heigho!
satisfied of my virtue for your sake.          Lucy. Don't sigh, Miss Peggy; if that young
Har. Kinl. however!                ]Aside. gentleman, who was here just now, would take
Spark. Nay, if it were so, my dear rogue, I ask pity on me, I'd throw such a contract as yours
thee pardon; but why would not you tell me so, behind the fire.'faith?                                       Peg. Lord bless us, how you talk!




.CENE I.]                 THE  COUNTRY  GIRL..593
Lucy. Young Mr. Belville would make you   Moo. How's this? what,'flout at the country?
talk otherwise, if you knew him.              Peg. Let me alone, I am not well.
Peg. Mr. Belville!-Where is he?-When   AMoo. O, if that be all-what ails my dearest?
did you see him? —You have undone me, Lucy;   Peg. Truly, I don't know; but I have not
where was he? did he say any thing?       been well since you told me there was a gallant
Lucy. Say any thing!-very little indeed;he's at the play in love with me.
quite distracted, poor young creature. He was   11oo. Ha!
talking with your guardian just now.          Lucy. That's my mistress too.
Peg. The deuce he was?-but where was it,   Mbo. Nay, if you are not well, but are so conand when was it?                           cerned because a raking young fellow chanced to
Lucy. In this house, five minutes ago, when lie, and say he liked you, you'll make me sick too.
your guardian turned you into your chamber, for   Peg. Of what sickness?
fear of your being seen.                      Moo. O, of that which is worse than the plague,
Peg. I knew something was the matter, I was jealousy.
in such a fluster. But what did he say to my bud?  Peg. Pish, you jeer: I'm sure there's no such
Lucy. What do you call him bud for'? Bud disease in your receipt-book at home.
means husband, and he is not your husband yet,   Moo. No, you never met with it, poor innocent.
and I hope never will be; and if he was my hus-   Peg. Well, but pray, bud, let's go to a play toband I'd bud him, a surly, unreasonable beast.    night.
Peg. I'd call him any names, to keep him in   Moo. No, no; no more plays. But why are
good humour, if he'd let me marry any body else, you so eager to see a play?
(which I can't do,) I'd call him husband as long   Peg. Faith, dear, not that I care one pin for
as he lived. But what said Mr. Belville to him't their talk there; but I like to look upon the playLucy. I don't know what he said to him, but er-men, and would see, if I could, the gallant you
I'll tell you what he said to me, with a sigh, and say loves me; that's all, dear bud.
his hand upon his, breast, as he went out of the   Moo. Is that all, dear bud?
door-" If you ever were in love, young gentle-   Lucy. T'his proceeds from my mistress' exwoman, (meaning me,) and can pity a most faith- ample.
ful lover, tell the dear object of my affections-"    Peg. Let's go abroad, however, dear bud, if we
Peg. Meaning me, Lucy!                  don't go to the play.
Lucy. Yes, you, to be sure. "'Tell the dear  Mloo. Come, have a little patience, and thou
object of my affections, I live but upon the hopes shalt go into the country next week.
that she is not married; and when those hopes   Peg. Therefore, I would first see some sights
leave me, she knows the rest;" then he cast up to tell my neighbours of: nay, I will go abroad,
his eyes thus-gnashed  his teeth-struck his that's once.
forehead-would have spoke again, but could   Moo. What, you have put this into her head?
not —fetched a deep sigh, and vanished.                                     [To LUCY.
Peg. That is really very fine; I am sure it'Lucy. Heaven defend me, what suspicions 
makes my heart sink within me, and brings tears somebody has put more things into your head
into my eyes! 0, he's a charming sweet-But than you ought to have.
hush, hush, I hear my husband!               MLLoo. Your tongue runs too glibly, Madam;
Lucy. Don't call hiim husband. Go into the and you have lived too long with a London lady,
Park this evening, if you can.             to be a proper companion for innocence. I am
Peg. Mum, mum.                           not over fond of your mistress.
Lucy. There's no love lost between us.
Enter Moo)Y.                  AMoo. You admitted those gentlemen into the
house, when I said I would not be at home; and,oo. Come, what's here to do; you are putting there was the young fellow too who behaved so
the town pleasures in her head, and setting her a indecent to my wife at the tavern window.
longing.                                     Lucy. Because you would not let him see your
Lucy. Yes, after nine-pins; you suffer none to handsome wife out of your lodgings.
give her those longings but yourself:        Peg. Why, 0 Lord, did the gentleman come
Moo. Come, Mrs. Flippant, good precepts are hither to see me indeed?
lost when bad examples are still before us: the   Moo. No, no. You are not the cause of that
liberty your mistress takes abroad makes her damned question too?           [To LucY.
hanker after it. and out of humour at home.   Peg. Come, pray, bud, let's go abroad before
Poor wretch! she desired not to come to London;'tis late; for I will go, that's flat and plain-only
I would bring her.                         into the Park.
Lucy. 0 yes, you surfeit her with pleasures.    IMoo. So! the obstinacy already of the town
-Moo. She has been this fortnight in town, and wife.; and I must, while she's here, humour her
never desired, till this afternoon, to go abroad.   like one. [Aside.] —Iow shall we do, that she
Lucy. Was she not at the play yesterday?  may not be seen or known?
Moo. Yes, but she never asked me: I was my-   Lucy. Muffle her up with a bonnet and cloak,
self the cause of her going.                and I'll go with her to avoid suspicion.
Lucy. Then if she as: you again, you are the   Moo. No, no, I am obliged to you for your
cause of her asking, and not my mistress.   kindness, but she sha'n't stir without me.
Moo. Well, next week I shall be rid of you all,   Lucy. What will you do then?
rid of this town, and my dreadful apprehensions.   Peg. What, shall we go? I am sick with stayCome, be not melancholy, for thou shalt go into ing at home: if I don't walk in the Park. I'll do
the country very soon, dearest.             nothing that I am bid for a week-I wont be
Peg. Pish! what d'ye tell me of the country moped.
for?                                          Lucy. O she has a charming spirit! I could
VOL.....4 F    50*




594                       THE COUNTRY GIRL.                                    [ACT II,
stand your friend now, and would, if you had ever   Bel. But you cannot come near his mistress
a civil word to give me.        ['o MOODY. but in his company.
M1oo. I'll give thee a better thing, I'll give thee   Har. Still the better for me, nephew, for fools
a guinea for thy good advice, if I like it; and I are most easily cheated, when they themselves
can have the best of the college for the same are accessaries; and he is to be bubbled of his
money.                                       mistress, or of his money (the common mistress,)
Lucy. I despise a bribe: when I am your by keeping him company.
friend, it shall be without fee or reward.
Peg. Don't be long then, for I will go out.
Ltcy. The tailor brought home last night the   Spark. Who's that, that is to be bubbled? faith,
clothes you intend for a present to your godson in  let me *snack; I han't met with a bubble since
the country.                                 Christmas.'Gad, I think bubbles are like their
Peg. You must not tell that, Lucy.         brother woodcocks, go out with the cold weather.
Lucy. But I will, Madam. When you were   Har. He did not hear all, I hope.
with your lawyers last night, Miss Peggy, to di-                            [Apart to BEL.
vert me and herself, put'em on, and they fitted    Spark. Come, you bubbling rogues, you, where
her to a hair.                                do we sup? 0 Harcourt, my mistress tells me'iMoo. Thank you, thank you, Lucy,'tis the. you have made love, fierce love, to her last night,
luckiest thought! Go this moment, Peggy, into all the play long; ha, ha, ha! but Iyour chamber, and put'em on again-and you    Har. I make love to her?
shall walk with me into the Park, as my godson.   Spark. Nay, I forgive thee, and know her; but
Well thought of, Lucy! I shall love you for ever I am sure I know myself.
for this.                                       Bel. Do you, Sir? Then you are the wisest: Peg. And so shall I too, Lucy: I'll put'era on man in the world, and I honour you as such.
directly. [Going.] Suppose, bud, I must keep on                                   [Bows.
my petticoats, for fear of showing my legs?    Spark. O, your servant, Sir; you are at your
Illoo. No, no, you fool, never mind your legs?  raillery, are you? You can't oblige me more; I'm
[Exeunt. your man: he'll meet with his match. Ha! HarACT III.                    court! did not you hear me laugh prodigiously at
the play last night 1
SCEINE I.-The Park.                  Har. Yes, and was very much disturbed at it.
Enter BELVILLE and IHARCOURT.        You put the actors and audience into confusion,
and all your friends out of countenance.
Bel. And the moment Moody left me, I took    Spark. So much the better; I love confusion,
an opportunity of conveying some tender senti- and to see folks out of countenance; I was in tipmnents through Lucy to Miss Peggy; and here I top spirits, faith, and said a thousand good things.
am, in expectation of seeing my country goddess.   Bel. But I thought you had gone to plays to
liar. And so, to blind AMoody, and take him  laugh at the poet's good things, and not at your
off the scent of your passion for this girl, and at own.
the same time to give me an opportunity with    Spark. Your servant, Sir: no I thank you.
Sparkish's mistress (and of which I have made'Gad, I go to a play as to a country treat: i carry
the most,) you hinted to him with a grave melan- my own wine to one, and my own wit to t'other,
choly face that you were dying for his sister — or else I'm sure I should not be merry at either:
Gad-a-mercy, nephew! I will back thy modesty and the reason why we are so often louder than
against any other in the three kingdoms: it will the players is, because we hate authors damndo, Dick.                                    ably.
Bel. What could I do, uncle?-It. aras my last   Bel. But why should you hate the poor rogues;
stake, and I played for a great deal.        you have too much wit, and despise writing, I'm
Har. You mistake me, Dick; 1 don't say you: sure.
could do better, I only can't account for your   Spark. 0 yes, I despise writing; but women,
modesty's doing so much: you have done such women, that make men do all foolish things,
wonders, that I, who am rather bold than sheep- make'em write songs too. Every body does it;
ish, have not yet ceased wondering at you. But'tis e'en as common with lovers as playing with
do you think that you imposed upon him?     fans; and you can no more help rhyming to your
Bel. Faith, I can't say; he said very little, Phillis, than drinking to your Phillis.
grumbled much, shook his head, and showed me   liar. But the poets damned your songs, did
the door.-But what success have you had with theyv 
Alithea?                                       Spark. Damn the poets: they turned them
Mar. Just enough to have a glimmering of into burlesque, as they call it: that burlesque is
hope, without having light enough to see an inch a hocus-pocus trick they have got, which, by the
before my nose. —Tlhis day will produce some- virtue of hiccius-doccius, topsy-turvy, they make
thing; Alithea is a woman of great honour, and a clever witty thing absolute nonsense! Do you
will sacrifice her happiness to it, unless Sparkish's know, Harcourt, that they ridiculed my last song,
absurdity stands my friend, and does every thing  " Twang. twang," the best I ever wrote?
that the fates ought to do for me.             liar. That may be, and be very easily ridiculed
Bet. Yonder comes the prince of coxcombs, and for all that.
if yoder mistress and mine should, by chance, be   Bel. Favour me with it, Sir; I never heard it.
tripping this way, this fellow will spoil sport;   Spark. What, and have all the Park about us.
let us avoid him-you can't cheat him before his   lar. Which you'll not dislike; and so, pr'yface                                         thee, begin.
itar But I can though, thanks to my wit, and    Spark. I never am ask'd twice, and so have at
his want of it.                              you.




SCENE I.]                   THE COUNTRY GIRL.                                      595
Tell me not of the roses and lilies:        Re-enter MooDY, PEGGY, and ALITHEA.
Which tinge thefair cheek of your Phillis;:
Tell me not of the dimples and eyes,       Moo. Sister, if you will not go, we must leave
For which silly Corydon dies,            you. [To ALlTHEA.] The fool, her gallant, and
Let all whining lovers go hanlg;           she, will muster up all the young saunterers of
My heart would you hit4,                 this place.  What a swarm of cuckolds and
Tip your arrow with. wit,
Tip your arrow with wit,.                cuckold-makers are here! I begin to be uneasy.
And it comes to my heart with a twang, twang  [Aside. Come, let's he gone, Peggy.
And it comes to my heart with a twang.t half m
Peg. Don't you believe that! 1'I han't half mv
[At the end of the song HARCOURT and  bellyfull of sights yet. -
BELVILLE steal away from SPARKISH, and    Moo. Then walkthis way.
eave him  singing; * he sinks his voice by   Peg. Lord, what a power of fine folks are here.
leave him singing; he sinks his voice by
deglrees at the surprisel of their: being  And Mr. Belville, as I hope to be married.
[Aside.
gone.
Moo. Come:along; what are you muttering at? 
Re-enter HARCOORT and 1BELYVILE.~ -      Peg. There's the young gentleman there,you
were so angry about, that's in love with me.
What the deuce did you go away for.            11 Mbo. No, no'; he's a dangler after your sister,
Hliar. Your mistress is coming.            or pretends to be; but they -are all bad: alike.
Spark. The devil she is! 0 hide, hide me Come along, I say.
from her.  - -      [Hides behind HIARCOURT.     [MOODY pulls PEGGY away. Exeunt PEGGY
iHar. She sees you.:                             and MOODY~,BELVILLEfollowing. SrARKSpark. But I will not see her;fior I'm engaged,   SH, HARCOURT, and ALITHEA come forsnd at this instant.    [Looking at his Watch.      ward.
Har. Pray first take: me, and reconcile me to   Spark.. Come, dear Madam, for rhy sake you
her..         shall be reconciled to him.
- Spark. Another time; faith,. it is the lady, and  - Ali. For your sake, I hate him.
one cannot make excuses to a woman..-.    Har. That's something' too cruel,: Madam, to
Bel. - You have need of'em; I.believe.   hate me for his sake.
Spark. Pshaw I pr'ythee, hide me.            Spark. Ay, indeed, Madam, too cruel to me,
to hate my friend for my sake.
Enter MOODY, PEGGY in Boy's clothes, and     Ali. I hate him because he is yoar enemy; and
ALITHEA.                  yOU ought to hate him too, for making love to me,
if you love me.
Har. Your servant, Mr. Moody.f you love me.
oar. Your servant, M. Moody.       PEY       Spark. That's a good one! I hate a man for
Moo.!Come along. [aTo sweetG, deigtflplcethsloving you!  If he did-love you,'tis but what he
eg. Lau! what a sweet delightful place this can't help; and'tis your fault, not his, if he adimires you.
Ivoo'.'Come along, I say; don't stare about you mies you.
o-. Come along, I say; don't stare abouter  yourl  Ali. Is it for your honour, or mine, to suffer a
uso; you'll betray yourselaf  n P~.w.man to make love to me, who am tomarry you
[E xeunt Moo. and PEGGY, ALI.follows: to-morrow?
3tar. He does not know us..
lar. He does nont know us.                   liHar. But why, dearest Madam, will you be
Bel. Or he wont know us.
more concerned for his: honour than. he is himEpart Be.  aftrch them.  self? Let his honour alone, for my sake and his.
[Exit BEL. qfter them. He has no honourHe has no honour-:Har. Who is that pretty youth with him,       park.  ow's that
Sparki sh me relation? lf Peggy's, 1 suppiose;- Har. But what my dear friend can guard himSpark. Some relation of Peggy's, I suppose; self?
for he is so'mething like. her in face and gawkiSpark. O ho-that's right again.
AlS. You astonish me, Sir, with want of jeaRe-enter BELVILLE.              lousy.
Spark. A nd you make me giddy, Madam, with
DBel. By all my hopes, uncle, Peggy in boy's your jealousy and fears, and virtue and honour.
clothes. I am all over agitation.'Gad, I see virtue makes a woman as troublesome
[Apart to HIARCOURT. as a little reading or learning. 
Har. Be quiet, or you'll spoil all. They re-   Har. Come- Madam, you see you strive in:vain
turn.-Alithea has seen you, Sparkish, and will to make him jealous of me; my dear friend is the
be angry if you don't go to her: besides, I would kindest creature in the world to me.
fain be reconciled to her, which none but you can    Spark. Poor fellow!
do, my dear friend.                            Har. But his kindness only is not enough for
Spark. Well, that's a better reason, dear me, without your favour, your good opinion, dear
friend: I would not go near her now for her's Madam:'tis that must perfect my happiness.
or my own sake; but I can deny you nothing; Good gentleman, he believes all I say:'would
for. though I have known thee a great while,: you would do so! —Jealous of me! I would not
never go, if I do not love thee' as well as a new  wrong him nor you for the world.
acquaintance.                                  Spark. Look you there: hear him, hear hint,
Har. I am obliged to you, indeed, my dear and not walk away so; come back again.
friend: I will be well with her, only to be well       [AITHE A. walks carelessly to and fro.
with thee still; for these ties to wives usually dis-   Har. I love you, Madam, sosolve all ties to friends.                     Spark. How's that? nay, now you begin to
Spark. But they sha'n't though. Come along. go too far indeed 
[ They retire.   Har. So much I confess I say I love you, that




596                        THE COUNTRY GIRL.                                  [ACT H.
I would not have you miserable and cast your- your business is pleasure; therefore you and 1
self away upon so unworthy and inconsiderable a must go different ways.
thing as what you see here.                    Har. Well, you may go on; but this pretty
[Claps his hand on his breast, and points to young gentleman ['akes hold of PEGGY.] shall
SPARKISH.                           stay with us; for I suppose his business is the
Spark. No, faith, I believe thou wouldst not; same with ours, pleasure.
now his meaning is plain; but I knew before    Moo.'Sdeath, he knows her, she carries it so
thou wouldst not wrong me nor her.           sillily; yet if he does not, I should be more silly to
Har. No, no, heavens forbid the glory of her discover it first. [Aside.] Come, come.
sex should fall so low as into the embraces of   Har. Had you not rather stay with us? [To
such a contemptible wretch, the least of man- PEGGY.] Pr'ythee, who is this pretty young felkind-my dear friend here-I injure him.       low?                            [To MOODY.
[Embraces SPARKISH.  LMoo. One to whom I am guardian.-I wish I
Ali. Very well.                            could keep her out of your hands.    [Aside.
Spark. No, no, dear friend, I knew it: Madam,   Har. Who is he? I never saw any thing so
you see he will rather wrong himself than me in  pretty in all my life.
giving himself such names.                     Moo. Pshaw, do not look upon him so much;
Ali. Do you not understand him yet?       he's a poor bashful youth; you'll put him out of
Spark. Come, come, you shall stay till he has countenance.      [ Offers to take her away.
saluted you.                                   Har. Here, nephew, let me introduce this
young gentleman to your acquaintance. You
Re-enter MOODY and PEGGY. BELVILLE at a  are very like, and of the same age, and should
distance.                  know  one another.  Salute him, Dick, a la
Franpoise.             [BELVILrE kisses her.
Moo. What, invite your wife to kiss men?    Moo. I hate French fashions. Men kiss one
Monstrous! Are you not ashamed?            another!       [Endeavours to take hold of her.
Spark. Are you not ashamed that I should   Peg. I am out of my wits. [Aside.] What
have more confidence in the chastity of your do you kiss me for  I am no woman.
family than you have? You must not teach me:   Har. But you are ten times handsomer.
I am a man of honour, Sir, though I am frank    Peg. Nay, now you jeer one; and pray don't
and free; I am frank, Sir-                   jeer me.
Moo. Very frank, Sir, to share your wife with    Har. Kiss him again, Dick.
your friends.-You seem to be angry, and yet   Moo. No, no, no;-come away, come away.
wont go.                      [To ALITHEA.                                    [TO PEGGY.
Ali. No impertinence shall drive me away.    liar. Why, what haste you are in! Why wont
Moo. Because you like it-But you ought you let me talk with him 
to blush at exposing your wife as you do.      Moo. Because you'll debauch him; he's yet
[To SPARKISH. young and innocent. How she gazes upon him!
Spark. What then? It may be I have a The devil! [Aside.] Come, pray let him go; I
pleasure in't, as I have to show fine clothes at a cannot stay fooling any longer; I tell you my
playhouse the first day, and count money before wife stays supper for us.
poor rogues.                                   Har. Does she  Come then, we'll all go sup
Moo. He that shows his wife or money, will with her.
be In danger of having them borrowed sometimes.   2Moo. No, no; now I think on't, having staid
Spark. I loved to be envied, and would not so long for us, I warrant she's gone to bed. I
marry a wife that I alone could love. Loving wish she and I were well out of your hands.
alone is as dull as eating alone: and so good                                     [Aside.
night, for I must to Whitehall-Madam, I hope   Har. Well then, if she be gone to bed, I wish
you are now reconciled to my friend; and so I her and you a good night. But pray, young genwish you a good night, Madam, and sleep if you tleman, present my humble service to her.
can; for to-morrow, you know, I must visit you   Peg. Thank you heartily, Sir.     [Bows.
early with a canonical gentleman. Good night,   Moo.'Sdeath, she will'discover herself yet in
dear Harcourt-remember to send your brother.  spite of me.                        [Aside.
[Exit.   Bel. And mine too, Sir.
Har. You may depend upon me.-Madam, I   Peg. That I will indeed.                [Bows.
hope you will not refuse my visit to-morrow, if it   Har. Pray give her this kiss for me.
should be earlier, with a canonical gentleman,                                [Kisses her.
than Mr. Sparkish?                            Moo. 0 heavens! what do I suffer!  [Asids.
AIoo. This gentlewoman is yet under my care,   Bel. And this for me.        [Kisses her..therefore you must yet forbear your freedom with    Peg. Thank you, Sir.
her.                                             [Courtesies; BELVILLE  and  HARCOURT
Har. Must, Sir?                                   laugh, and exeunt.
-lloo. Yes, Sir, she is my sister.           Moo. 0 the idiot!-Now'tis out. Ten thouHar.'Tis well she is, Sir; for I must be her sand cankers gnaw  away their lips! [Aside.]
servant, Sir.-Madam-                         Come, come, driveller. [MooDY, PEGGY, and
Moo. Come away, sister; we had been gone if ALITHEA, go out and return.] So they are gone
it had not been for you, and so avoided these at last. Sister, stay with Peggy, till I find my
lewd rake-hells, who seem to haunt us.       servant. Don't let her stir an inch; I'll be back
Har. I see a little time in the country makes a directly.                        [Exit
man turn wild and unsociable, and only fit to conaerse with his horses, dogs, and his herds.
Moo. I have business, Sir, and must mind it:   Har. What, not gone yet — Nephew, show




SCENEr.]               THE  COUNTRY  GIRL.                                    597
the young gentleman Rosamond's pond, while I bud's clutches? We must be a little cunning;'tis
speak another word to this lady.            worth trying for. We can at any time run away
[E.xeunt BELVILLE and PEGGY; ALITHEA  without it.
and HARCOURT struggle.                Bel. I see by your fears, my dear Peggy, that
All. My brother will go distracted.       you live in awe of this brutal guardian; and if he
has you once more in his possession, both yoe
Re-enter MooDY.               and your fortune are secured to him for ever.
Peg. Ay, but it sha'n't though; I thank him
Moo. Where? how? —What's. become of — for that.
gone!-whither'
Alu. In the next walk on;ly,: brother.      Bel. If you marry without his consent, he can
Moo. Only-only-where-where   but seize upon half your fortune. The other half,
Moo. Only-only-where-where?               a rxzt. and a younger brother's fortune, with a treasure
Har. What's the matter with him?  Why so of love, are your own. Take it, my sweetest
much concerned2-But, dearest Madam-         Peggy, and this moment, or we shall be divided
for ever.       [Kneels and presses her hand.
Peg. I'fackins, but we wont. Your fine talk
Moo. Gone, gone-not to be found-quite gone has bewitched me.
-ten thousand plagues go with'em! Which   Bel.'Tis you have bewitched me, thou dear,
way went they?                              enchanting, sweet simplicity!-Let us fly with
All. But in t'other walk, brother.       the wings of love to my house there, and we shall
Mloo. T'other walk  t'other devil. Where are be safe for ever.
they, I say?                                  Peg. And so we will then.-There, squeeze
Ali. You are too abusive, brother.        my hand again.-Now run away with me; and
Moo. You know where they are, you infamous if my guardy follows us, the devil take the hindwretch, eternal shame of your family; which you most, 1 say.                   [Going.
do not dishonour enough yourself, you think,
but you must help her to do it too, thou legion  Enter MooDY hastily, and meets them.
of-                                           Moo. Oh! there's my strayed sheep, and the
Ali. Good brother-                        wolf again in sheep's clothing.-Now I have reMoo. Damned, damned sister!     [Exeunt. covered her, I shall come to my senses again.
[Aside.] Where have you been, you puppy?
SCENE I1.-Another part of the Park.        Peg. Been, bud?-We have been hunting all
over the Park to find you.
Enter BEvlr,iE and PEGGY.           Bel. From one end to t'other, Sir.
[ Confusedly.
Bel. No disguise could conceal you from my   Moo. But not where I was to be found, you
heart: I pretended not to know you, that I might young devil vou — Why did you start when you
deceive the dragon that continually watches over           saw me?
you: but now he's asleep, let us fly from misery   Peg. I'm always frightened when I see you;
~~~to happiness,~                      ~ ~and if I did not love you so well, I should run
Peg. Indeed, Mr. Belville, as well as I like away from you; so I should.      [Pouts.
you, 1 can't think of going away with you so;   Moo. But I'll take care you don't.
and as much as I hate my guardian, I must take   Peg. This gentleman has a favour to beg of
leave of him a little handsomely, or he will kill you, bud!   [BELVilLE makes signs of dislike.
me, so he will.                               Moo. I am not in the humour to grant favours
Bel. But, dear Miss Peggy, think of your to young gentlemen, though you may. What
situation; if we don't make the best use of this have you been doing with this young lady-genopportunity, we never may have another.    tleman, I would say? 
Peg. Ay but, Mr. Belville, I am as good as   Peg. Fy, bud, you have told all.
married already; my guardian has contracted me,   Bel. I have been as civil as I could to the
and there wants nothing but church ceremony to young stranger; and if you'll permit me, I will
make us one: I call him husband, and he calls take the trouble off your hands, and show the
me wife already: he made me do so: and we had young spark Rosamond's pond; for he has not
been married in church long ago, if the writings seen it yet.-Come, pretty youth, will you go
could have been finished,                   with me                        [Goes to her.
Bel. That's his deceit, my sweet creature.-   Peg. As my guardian pleases.
He pretends to have married you, for fear of your   Moo. No, no, it does not please me. Whatever
liking any body else. You have a right to choose I think he ought to see, I shall show him myself.
for yourself; and there is no law in heaven or You may visit Rosamond's pond, if you will; and
earth that binds you before marriage to a man the bottom of it, if you will.-And so, Sir, your
you cannot like.                            servant.
Peg. I'fack, no more I believe it does; sister  [Eit MOODY, fith PEGGY under his arm
Alithea's maid has told mle as much. She's a       BELVILt, a contrary wau.
Aerithea'sible girl..BELVILLE, a contrary way.
very sensible girl.
Bel. You are in the very jaws of perdition,                     IV
and nothing but running away can avoid it: the
law will finish your chains to-morrow, and the      SCEVE I.-MooDY'S House
church will rivet them the day after. Let us secure our happiness by escape, and love and fortune.will do the rest for us.                 Ali. Hold your peace.
Peg. These are fine sayings, to be sure, Mr.   Lucy. Nay, Madam, I will ask you the reason
Belville: but how shall we get my fortune out of why you would banish poor Mr. Harcourt for




598:THE COUNTRY GIRL.                                  [ACT IV.
ever from your sight. how could you be so hard1    Moo. If you had been in petticoats, you would
hearted.                                    have knocked him down?
Ali.'Twas because I was not hard-hearted.   Peg. With what, bud — I could not help myLucy. No, no;'twas stark love and kindness, self; besides, he did it so modestly, and blushed
I warrant.                                  so, that 1 almost thought him  a girl in men's
Ali. It was so; I would see him no more, be- clothes, and upon his mummery too as well as
cause I love him.                            me; and if so, there was no harm (lone you know.
Lucy. Hey-day! a very pretty reason.         Moo. This is worse and worse. So'tis plain
Ali. You do not understand me.            she loves him, yet she has not love enough to
Lucy. I wish you may yourself.             make her conceal it from nle; but the sight of
Ali. I was engaged to marry, you see, another him will increase her aversion for me, and love
man, whom my justice will not suffer me to de- for him; and that love instruct her how to deceive or injure.                             ceive me, and satisfy him, all idiot as she is.
Lucy. Can there be a greater cheat or wrong Love;'twas he gave women first their craft,
done to a man, than to give him your person their art of deluding. I must strangle that little
without your heart? I should make a conscience monster whilst I can deal with him. [Aside.] Go,
of it.                                       fetch pen, ink, and paper, out of the next room.
Ali. Hold your tongue.                       Peg. Yes, I will,bud.
Lucy. That you know I can't do, Madam; and    loo. Go then.
upon this occasion, I will talk for ever. What,   Peg. I'm going.
give yourself away to one, that poor I, your maid,   Moo. Why don't you go then?
would not accept of?.                          Peg. Lord, I'm going.               [Ex it.
Ali. How, Lucy  Moo. This young fellow loves her, and she loves
Lucy. I would not, upon my honour, Madam. him; the rest is all hypocrisy.-How the young'Tis never too late to repent. Take a man, and modest villain endeavoured to deceive ie! But
give up your coxcomb, I say.                 I say.  I'll crush this mischief in the shell. Why should
women have more invention in love than men?
Enter a SERVANT.               It can only be because they have more desire,
Serv. Mr. Sparkish, with company, Madam, more soliciting passions, more of the devil
attends you below.                             Re-enter PEac~+Y, with pen, ink, and paper.
Ali. I will wait upon'em. [Exit SERVANT.] Come m
My heart begins to fail me, but I must go through Come, minx, sit down and write.
with it. Go with me, Lucy.            [Exit. IPeg. Ay, dear, dear bud! but I can't do't very
Lucy. Not I indeed, Madam. If you will leap     well.
the precipice you shall fall by yourself. What  PIe.   wish you could not at all.
excellent advice have I thrown away! So I'll e'en  eg. But what should I write for
take it where it will be more welcome.-Miss   1110o. I'll have you write a letter to this young
Peggy is bent upon mischief against her guar-                                  man.
dian, and she can't have a better privy counsellor t eg. 0 Lord, to the young gentleman a letthan  myself.-I must be busy one way or
another.                              [Evit.   iYso. Yes, to the young gentleman.
Peg. Lord, you do but jeer; sure, you jest.
SCEVE II.-Another Chamber in MoonY's.M~oo. I am not so merry. Come, sit down, and[
House.                    write as I bid you.
Enter MOODY and PEGGY.               Peg. What, do you think I am a fool? 
Moo. She's afraid I would not dictate my love
1Moo. I saw him kiss your hand before you saw  to him, therefore she's unwilling. [Aside.] But
me.-This pretence of liking my sister was all a you had best begin.
blind-the young abandoned hypocrite! [Aside.]   Peg. Indeed and indeed but I wont, so I wont.
Tell me I say-for I know he likes you, and was   Yloo. Why?
hurrying you to his house-tell me, I say-      Peg. Because he's in town. You may send
Peg. Lord, han't I told it a hundred times for him here, if you will.
overl                                          Moo. Very well, you would have him brought
-Moo. I would try if, in the repetition of an un- to you? Is it come to this? I say take the pen
grateful tale, I could find her altering it in the and ink, and write, or you'll provoke me.
least circumstance; for, if her story is false, she is   Peg. Lord, what do you make a fool of me
so tog.-[Aside.] Come, how was't, baggage?  for — Don't I know that letters are never writ
Peg. Lord,. what pleasure you take to hear it but from the country to London. and from Lonsure?                                       don into the country? Now he's in town, and
Aloo. No, you take more in telling it, I find: I'm in town too; therefore I can't write to him,
but speak, how was't:? No lies; I saw him kiss you know.
you; he kissed you before my face.             Moo. So, I'm glad it's no worse; she is innoPeg. Nay, you need not be so angry with him  cent enough yet. [Aside.] Yes, you may, when
neither; for, to say truth, he has the sweetest your husband bids, write letters to people that
breath I ever knew.                          are in town.
Moo. The devil!-You were satisfied with it   Peg. O, may I so  then I am satisfied.
then, ant; would do it again? 0l oo. Come, begin-Sir-                           [Dictates.
Peg. Not unless he should force me.          Peg. Sha'n't I say, dear Sir? you know one
Moo. Force you, changeling  says always something more than bare, Sir, up in
Peg. If I had struggled too much, you know, a corner.
oc would have known had I been a woman; so I    fMoo. Write as I bid you, or I will write sGme
was quiet, for feal of being found out.      thing with this penknife in your face.




SCENE:II.]                T H E  C O U-N T R Y  G TI R L.                           599
Peg. Sir-                    [- Writes. not send this letter to poor Mr. Belville, come
Moo. Though I suffered last night your nau- what will on't.  [:Writes, and repeats what she
scous, loathed kisses and embraces-Write!     writes.]-Dear, dear, dear, sweet J/~Mr. BelvillePeg. Nay, why should I say so 2 you know, I so-M-y guardian would have me send you a
told you he had a sweet breath.                base, rude letter, but I wont-so-and would
Moo. Write!                                 have me say I hate you, but I wont —there-for
Peg. Let me put out loathed.                fm  sure if you and I were in the country at
Mizoo. Write, I say.                        cards together-so-I could not help treading on
Peg. Well then.                    [Writes. your toe under the table-so pray keep at home,
IMoo. Let me see what you have writ. [Reads.] for I shall be with you as soon as I can-so no
Though I suffered last night your kisses and  more at present from  one who am, dear, dear,
e:mbraces-Thou impudent creature, where is poor dear Mr. Belville, your loving friena till
nauseous and loathed?                         death do us part, MARGARE'I' THRIFT.-So-now
Peg. I can't abide to write such filthy words.  wrap it up just like t'other-so-now  write For
lMoo. Once more write as I'd have you, or I Mr. Belville.-But, oh! what shall I do with it!
will spoil your writing with this; I will stab out for here comes my guardian.
those eyes that cause my mischief.                                     [Puts it in her bosom.
[Holds up the penknife.
Peg. 0 Lord, I will.               [Writes.   Re-enter MOODY, with a candle and sealingAMIoo. So-so-let's see now:-though I suffer-                     wax.
ed last night your nasueous, loathed kisses and
Maoo. I have been detained by a sparkish coxembraces-go on-yet I would not have you pie- comb, who pretended to visit me; but I fear'twas
sume that you shall ever repeat them-so-       to             de.] What, have you lone 
[PEGGY writes.     y w
IEGGY hewrites.    Peg. Ay, ay, bud, just now.
Peg. I have writ it.
~Peg~. I thave writ lt.e  -oncealed myse~f~cm IMoo; Let's see't; what d'ye tremble oir? —
Maboo. 0 then-I then concealed myself from               [He opens and reads thest letter.
your knowledge to avoid your insolencies- -      P     S             a.     if.
-oowrts    Peg. So, 1 had been finely  served if 1 had
Peg. Toavoidgiven him this.                       [Aside.
Moo. TYovu insol7nce.-                         Moo. Come, where's the wax and seal?
Moo. Your insolenciesPeg. Your insolencies.               Writes    Peg. Lord, what shall I do? [Aside.] Pray let
Y     [ritesme see't. Lord, you think I cannot seal a letter;
Moo. The same reason, now I am out of your I will do't, so I will.
Peg. ands-                                       [Snatches the Letter from  him, changes it
Peg. MakeSo-                       [Wrim'tes..for the other, seals it, anzd delivers it to
Moo. Makes me own to you my unfortunate-           hi.
though innocent frolic, in being in boy's clothes.                            learn that and
Moo. Nay, I believe you will learn that and
[PEoGY writes,  other things too, which I would not have you.
Peg. So.-                                      Peg. So, ha'nt I done it curiously? I think I
Moo. That you mayfor evermore?-              have-there's my letter going to Mr. Belville,
Peg. Evermore?                              since he'll needs have me send letters to folks.
Moo. Evermore cease to pursue her who hates                                        [Aside.
find detests you —             [PEGGY writes.                                         [Aside.
Peg. So    -                 [PE     writes.   Moo.'Tis very well; but I warrant you would
~~~~Peg. So-               [ Sighs. not have it go now?
Moo. What do you sigh for — detests you-as    Peg. Yes, indeed, but I would, bud, now.
much as she loves her husband and her h.onour- 
Peg. I vow, husband, he'll never believe I let mooe lock you   arein your chamber till I come
should write such a letter.          [We          me lock you up in your chamber till I coern
should write such a letter.     r[ Writes.  back; and be sure you come not within three
A/[oo. What, he'd expect a kinder one from
C11ome What, nowd yourcn ame only.   one fromstrides of the window when I am gone, for 1 have
you           shan't I say-Come, now your   most faithful a sy in the street. [Puts her into the Chamber.]
Peug. What sha'n't I sa-your most faithful At least'tis fit she thinks so; if we do not cheat
humble servant till death?
women, they'll cheat us.-Now I have secured all
M/oo. No, tormenting nren!  [PEGGY owrtes.j-  within, I'll deal with the foe without, with false
Her style, I find, would be very soft. [Aside.] intelligence.                         [Exit.
Come, wrap it up now, whilst I-go fetch wax and
a candle, and write on the outside-For Alir.
Belville.                              [Ex~it.      SCENE  Ill. —BELvTr. LE'S Lodgings.
Belville.                              [Exit.
Peg. [Writes.] For Mr. Belville.-So.-I am             Enter Lucy and BE[,VILE.
glad he is gone-Hark, I hear a noise.
Moo. [Within.] Well, well, but can't you call   Lucy. I run great risks, to be sure, to serve the
again-Well, walk in then.                      young lady and you, Sir; but I know you are a
Peg. [Goes to the door.] I'fack, there's folks gentleman of honour, and would scorn to betrav
with himn-                                     a friend who means you well, and is above being
Moo. [4Within.] Very well-if he must see mercenary.
me, I'll come to him.                            Bel. As you are not mercenary., XMrs. Lucy, I
Peg. That's pure; now I may think a little-  ought to be the more generous; give me leave to
Why should I send dear Mr. Belville such a let- present you with this trifle; [Gives her a ring.]
ter -.-Can one have no shift? ah, a London wo- not as a reward for your services, but as a small
man would have had a hundred presently-Stay  token of friendship.
-what if I should write a letter, and wrap it up    Lucy. Though I scorn to be bribed in any
like this, and write upon it too?-Ay, but then  cause, yet I am proud to accept it as a mark of
my guardian would see't-I don't know what to your regard, and as such shall keep it for yout
do-But yet y'vads I'll try, so I will-for I will sake-and now to business.




'600                       THE COUNTRY GIRL.                                   rACT IV.
Bet. But has the dear creature resolved?     Moo. The gentleman's surprised. I find! What,
Lucy. Has she? why she will run away and you expected a kinder letter!
marry you, in spite of your teeth, the first mo-   Bel. No, faith, not I; how could I?
ment she can break prison; so you, in your turn,   Moo. Yes, yes, I'm sure you did; a mlan so
must take care not to have your qualms: I have young and well made as you are, must needs be disknown several bold gentlemen not able to draw  appointed, if the women declare not their passion
their swords, when a challenge has come too at the first sight or opportunity.
quick upon'em.                                Bel. But what should this mean? It seems he
Bel. I assure you, Mrs. Lucy, that I am no knows not what the letter contains.  [Aside.
bully in love; and Miss Peggy will meet with her   Moo. Come, ne'er wonder at it so much.
match, come when she will.                     Bel. Faith, I can't help it.
Lucy. Ay, so you all say; but talking does no    Moo. Now, I think, I have deserved your inbusiness. Stay at home till you hear from us.   finite friendship and kindness, and have shown
Bel. Blessings on thee, Lucy, for the thought. myself sufficiently an obliging, kind friend and
Moo. [Without.] But I must and will see him, husband; am I not so, to bring a letter from my
let him have what company he will.           wife to her gallant!
Lucy. As I hope to be married, Mr. Belville, I   Bel. Ay, indeed, you are the most obliging,
hear Mr. Moody's voice. Where shall I hide my- kind friend and husband in the world; ha, ha,
self? —if he sees me, we are all undone.     ha! Pray, however, present my humble service
Bel. This is our cursed luck again. What the to her, and tell her I will obey her letter to a tittle,
devil can he want here? Get into this closet till and fulfil her desires, be what they will, or with
he is gone. [Puts Lucy into the closet.]  Don't what difficulty soever I do't: and you shall be no
you stir, Lucy. I must put the best face upon more jealous of me, I warrant her and you.
the matter. Now for it.                        Moo. Well then, fare you well, and play with
[Takes a Book, and reads. any man's honour but mine; kiss any man's wife
but mine, and welcome-so, Mr. Modesty, your
Enter M~Ioonv.                servant.                             [ Going.
Moo. You will excuse me, Sir, for breaking         Enter SPA      meeting hi
through forms, and your servant's entreaties, to
have the honour-but you are alone, Sir-your   Spark. So brother-in-law  that was to have
fellow told me below, that you were with com- been, I have followed you from home to Belville's;
pany.                                        I have strange news for you.
Bel. Yes, Sir, the best company. [Shows his   Moo. What, are you wiser than you were this
Book.] When I converse with my betters, I morning?
choose to have'em alone.                      Spa~rk. Faith, I don't know but I am, for I have
iMoo. And I choose to interrupt your conversa- lost your sister, and I sha'n't eat half an ounce the
tion! the business of my errand must plead my less at dinner for it; there's philosophy fbr you.
excuse.                                        Moo. Insensibility, you mean. I hope you don't
Bel. You shall be always welcome to me; but mean to use my sister ill, Sir?
you seem ruffled, Sir. What brings you hither,   Spark. No, Sir, she has used me ill; she's in
and so seemingly out of humour?             her tantrums: I have had a narrow escape, Sir.
IMoo. Your impertinency —  beg pardon-your   MLoo. If thou art endowed with the smallest
modesty, I mean.                             portion of understanding, explain this riddle.
Bel. My impertinency!                        Bel. Ay, ay, pr'ythee, Sparkish, condescend to
Moo. Your impertinency!                   be intelligible.
Bel. Sir, from the peculiarity of your charac-   Spark. Why, you must know-we had settled
ter, and your intimacy with my uncle, I shall al- to be married-it is the same thing to me whether
low you great privileges; but you must consider I am married or not-I have no particular fancy
youth has its privileges too; and as I have not the one way or another, and so I told your sister; of
honour of your acquaintance I am not obliged to or on,'tis the same thing to me; but the thing was
bear with your ill humours, or your ill manners.  fixed, you know-You and my aunt brought it
Moo. They who wrong me, young man, must about; I had no hand in it. And, to show you
bear with both: and if you had not made too free that I was as willing to marry your sister as any
with me, I should have taken no liberties with. other woman, I sufiered the law to tie me up to
you.                                         hard terms; and the church would have finished
Bel. I could have wished, Sir, to have found me still to harder-but she was taken with her
you a little more civil, the first time I had the tantrums!
honour of a visit from you.                    Moo. Damn your tantrums, come to the point.
Moo. If that is all you want, young gentleman,  1Spark. Your sister took an aversion to the paryou will find me very civil indeed! There, Sir, son, Frank Harcourt's brother —abu'sed him like
read that, and let your modesty declare whether I a pickpocket, and swore t'was Harcourt himself.
want either kindness or civility. Look you there,   Moo. And so it was, for I saw him.
Sir.                                           Spark. Why, you are as mad as your sister; I
Bel. What is it?        [Gives him a letter. tell you it was Ned, Frank's twin brother.
Moo. Only a love-letter, Sir; and from my    Moo. What, Frank told you so?
wife.                                          Spark. Ay, and Ned too; they were both in a
Bel. How, is it from your wife?-hum and story.
hum.                                [Reads.   Too. What an  incorrigible fellow!-Come,
lMoo. Even from my wife, Sir; am not I won- come, I must be gone.
drous kind and civil to you now too? But you'll   Spark. Nay, nay, you shall hear my story outnot think her so.                    [Aside. She walked up within pistol-shot of the church,
HBe!'Fa  is this a trick of his or hers?'Aside. then twirled round upon her heel, called me every




SNRNE I.]                 [THE COUNTRY GIRL.                                       601
name she could think of; and when she had ex- ville! well, I will not stay here; therefore I'll
hausted her imagination. and tired her tongue make an end of my letter to him, which shall be
(noeasy matter let me tell you,) she called her a finer letter than my last, because I have studied
chair, sent her footman to buy a monkey before it like any thing. Oh! sick, sick!
my face, then bid me good morrow with a sneer,
and left us with our mouths open in the middle Enter MOODY, who, seeing her writing, steaks
of a hundred people, who were all laughing at us!   softly behind her, and looking over her sLoedIf these are not tantrums, I don't know what are.   der, snatches the paperfrom her.
I l4oo. Ha, ha, ha! I thank thee, Sparkish,   MlIoo. What, writing more letters.
from my soul;'tis a most exquisite story; I have    Peg. 0 Lord, bud! why d'ye fright me so?
not had such a laugh for this half year. Thou    [She offers to run out; he stops her, and reads.
art a most ridiculous puppy, and I am infinitely  nMoo. How's this! nay, you shall not stir,
eblig.ed to thee; ha ha, ha!         [Exit. Madam. [Reads.] Dear, dear Mr. BelvilleSpark. Did you ever hear the like, Belville 2 Very well, I have taught you to write letters to
Bel. 0 yes; how is it possible to hear such a good purpose-but let's see't-First 1 am to beg
foolish story, and see thy foolish face, and not your pardon for my boldness in writing to you,
laugh at'em. ha, ha, ha!                  which i'd have you to know I would not havt
[LUCY in the closet laughs. done, had you not saidfirst you loved me so exSpark. Hey-day  what's that? What, have tremely; which if you do, you will never suffer,you raised a devil in the closet to make up a laugh- me to be another man's, who I loath, nauseate,
mg chorus at me 2 I must take a peep-        and detest:-Now  you can write these filthy
([Goi ng to the closet. words. But what follows 2-therefore I hope you
Bel. Indeed, but you must not.             will speedily find some way to free me from this
Spark. It was a woman's voice.             unfortunate match, which was never, I assure
Bel. So much the better for me.            you, of my choice; but rim qfraid'tis already
Spark. Pr'ythee, introduce me.             too far gone; however, if you love me as I do
Bel. Though you take a pleasure in exposing you, you will try what you can do; you must help
your ladies, I choose to conceal mine; so, my dear me away before to-morrow, or else, alas! I shall
1parkish, lest the lady should be sick by too long  be for ever out qf your reach, for. I can defer no
a confinement, and laughing heartily at you, I longer our-our-what is to follow our?-speak,
must entreat you to withdraw. Pr'ythee, excuse what? our journey into the country, I suppose
me. I must laugh-ha, ha, ha, ha!            -Oh, woman! damned! woman and love, damned
Spark. Do you know that I begin to be angry, love! their old temper; for this is one of his miraBelville.                                   cles; in a moment he canr make those blind that
Bel. I can't help that-ha, ha, ha, ha!    could see, and those see that were blinl; those
Spark. My character's at stake; I shall be dumb that could speak, and those prdctle who
thought a damned silly fellow; I will call Alithea were dumb before.-But make an end of your
to an account directly.               [Exit. letter, and then I'll make an end of you thus,
Bel. Ha, ha, ha!                           and all my plagues together. [Draws his sword.
Lucy. [Peeping out.] Ha, ha, ha, ha! 0 dear,   Peg. 0 Lord! 0 Lord! you are such a pasSir, let me have my laugh out, or I shall burst. sionate man, bud!
What an adventure!  [Comes out, and laughs.   Moo. Come, take the pen, and make an end of
Bel. My sweet Peggy has sent me the kindest the letter, just as you intended; if you are false
letter-and by the dragon himself: there's a spirit in a tittle I shall soon perceive it, and punish you
for you!                                    with this as you deserve. [Lays his hand on his
Lucy. There's simplicity for you! show me a sword.]-Write what was to follow-let's seetown-bred girl with half the genius-Send you  You must make haste and help me away bqfore
a love-letter, and by a jealous guardian too! ha, to-morrow, or else Ishall be for ever out of your
ha, ha!'Tis too much-too much —[Ia, ha, ha! reach,for I can defer no longer our-what fol-Well, Mr. Belville! the world goes as it should lows our?-    [PEG. takes the pen, and writes.
do-my mistress will exchange her fool for a wit;   Peg. Must all out then, bud — Look you
Miss Peggy her brute for a pretty young fellow; there then.
I shall dance at two weddings; be well rewarded    Moo. Let's see-for Ican defer no longer our
by both parties; get a husband myself; and be as wedding —Your slighted Alithea.-What's the
happy as the best of you; and so your humble meaning of this? my sister's name to't? speak;
servant.                              [Exit. unriddle.
Bel. Success attend you, Lucy.     [Exit.   Peg. Yes, indeed, bud.
Moo. But why her name to't 2 speak-speak,
ACT V.                     I say.
L-MooY's House.       Peg. Ay, but you'll tell her again; if you
SCENVE: L-MOODY'S House.             would not tell her againPEOGGY discovered alone, leaning ofn her elbow    Moo. I will not; I am stunned; my head turns
on a table, with pen, ink, and paper.   round. Speak.
Peg. Wont you tell her indeed, and indeed?
Peg. Well,'tis e'en so; I have got the Lon-   Moo. No.; speak, I say.
don disease they call love; I am sick of my guar-   Peg. She'll be angry with me; but I would
dian, and dying for Mr. Belville! I have heard rather she should be angry with me than you,
this distemper called a fever, but methinks it is bud. And to tell the truth,'twas she made me
like an ague; for when I think of my guardian, I write the letter, and taught me what I should
tremble, and am so cold; but when I think of my write.
gallant, dear Mr. Belville, my hot fit comes, anld Moo. Ha!-I thought the style was someI1 am all in a fever indeed. Ah! poor Mr. Bel- what better than her own. [Aside.] Could she
VoL. I... 4 G      51




602                       - THE COUNTRY GIRL.                                  LAer:crv
come to you to teach you, since I had locked you says. Pray let her have her way, bud-she wont
up alone?                                    be pacified if you don't-and will never forgive
Peg. Oh, through the key-hole, bud.        me. For my part, bud, I believe, but don't tell'lIoo. But why should she make you write a any body, they have broken a piece of silver heletter for her to him, since she can write herself?  tween'em-or have contracted one another, as
Peg. Why she said because-                 we have done, you know, which is the next thing
Moo. Because what-because-                to being married.
Peg. Why because, bud-                       Moo. Pooh! you fool-she is ashamed of talkMoo. Because what, I say?                  ing with me about Belville, because I made the
Peg. Because, lest Mr. Belville, as he was so match for -her with Sparkish; but Sparkish is a
young, should be inconstant, and refuse her; or be fool, and I have no objection to Belville's family
vain afterwards, and show the letter, she might or fortune-tell her so.
disown it, the hand not being hers.            Peg. I will bud.                   [Going.
Moo. Belville again!-Am  I to be deceived    Moo. Stay, stay, Peggy, let her have her own
again with that young hypocrite?            way; she shall go to Belville herself, and I'll folPeg. You have deceived yourself, bud; you low her-that, will be best-let her have her
have indeed. I have kept the secret for my sis- whim.
ter's sake, as long as I could-but you must know    Peg. You're in the right, bud; for they have
it-and shall know it too.            [Cries. certainly had a quarrel, by her crying and hanglMoo. Dry your eyes.                      ing her head so: I'll be hanged if her eyes an't
Peg. You always thought he was hankering swelled out of her head, she's in such a piteous
after me-Good law! he's dying for Alithea, and taking.
Alithea for him-; they have had private meet-  -Moo. Bblville sha'n't use her ill, I'll take care
ings; and he was making love to her before yes- of that; if he has made her a promise, he shall
terday, from  the tavern  window, when you keep to it: but she had better go first-I will folthought it was me. I would have discovered all, low her at a distance, that she may have no inbut she made me swear to deceive you; and so I terruption; and I will wait in the Park before I
have finely; have not I, bud  see them, that they may come to a reconciliation
Moo. Why did you write that foolish letter to before I come upon'em.
him then, and make me more foolish to carry it?    Peg. Law, bud, how wise you are!-I wish I
Peg. To carry on the joke, bud —to oblige had half your wisdom; you see every thing at
them?                                       once.  Stand a one side then-there, a little
17Moo. And will nothing serve her but that great further that way.
bab? —he's too young for her to marry.       Moo. And so I will; she sha'n't see me till 1
Peg. Why do you marry me then?-'Tis the break in upon her at Belville's.
ame thing, bud.                                Peg. Now for it.                    [Exit.
Moo. No, no;'tis quite different. How inno-  1M:oo. My case is something better; for suppose
cent she is! [Aside.]-But hark you, Madam, the worst-should Belville use her ill-I had rayour sister went out this morning, and I have not ther fight him  for not marrying my sister, than
seen her within since.                       for debauching my wife, for I will make her mine
Peg. Alack-a-day, she has been crying all day  absolutely to-morrow; and of the two, I had raabove, it seems, in a corner.                ther find my sister too forward than my wife: I
Moo. Where is she?  let me speak with her.   expected no other from her free education, as she
Peg. 0 Lord! then she'll discover all. [Aside.] calls it, and her passion for the town.- Well, wife
— Pray hold, bud; what, d'ye mean to discover and sister are names which make us expect love
me? she'll know I have told you' then. Pray, and duty, pleasure and comfort; but we find'em
bud, let me talk with her first.             plagues and torments, and are equally, though
Moo. I must speak with her to know whether difterently, troublesome to their keeper. But here
Belville ever made her any promise, and whether she comes.            - [Steps on one side.
she will be married to Sparkish or no.
Peg. Pray, dear bud, don't till I have spoken Repenter PEY, dressed like ALITEAs, as she
with her, and told her that I have told you all;  ses ove the  stage, she see
for she'll kill me else.
Moo. Go then, and bid her come to me.        Peg. Heigho!                       [Exit.
Peg. Yes, yes, bud.                          Moo. [Comes forward.] There the poor devil
Moo. Let me see-                           goes, sighing and sobbing, a woful example of
Peg. I have just got time to know of Lucy, the fatal consequences of a town education; but
who first set me  to work, what lie I shall teI  I am bound in duty, as well as inclination, to do
who first set me to work, what lie I shall tell
next; for I am e'en at my wits end.          my utmost to save her-but first I'll secure my
[Aside, and eit.  own property.-[Opens the door and calls.]Moo. Well, I resolve it; Belville shall have Peggy! Peggy! my dear -I will return as soon
her: I'd rather give him my sister, than lend him  as possible-do you hear me  why don't you anmy wife; and such an alliance will prevent his swer? you may read in the book I bought you
pretensions to my wife, sure: I'll make him of kin till I come back.-As the Jew says in the play.to her, and then he wont care for her.      "fast bind; fast find." [Locks the door.] This is the
best and only security for female afflctions. [Exit.
Re-enter PEGGY.
Peg. 0 Lord, bud, I told you what anger you   SCENE II.-The Park, before BELVIILE'S
would make with my sister.                                      House.
rlIoo. Wont she come                                 E
Peg. No, she wont, she's ashamed to look you         Enter SPARIIsfuddle d.
i the face; she'll go directly to Mr. Belville, she    Spark. If I can but meet with her, or any bod.




scEE It.]                 T H E  C-O U N TR    G IRL.                              603
that belongs to her, they will find me a match for sword is an offence to the court; so you may va-'emn. Whn a man has wit, and a great deal of pour as long as you please.. A woman of so little
it, champaign gives it a double edge, and nothing taste is not worth fighting for; she's not worth
can withstand it-'tis a lighted match to gunpow'- my sword! but if you'll fight me to-morrow mornder.-I was right to consult my friends, and they ing for diversion, I am your man.
all agree with Moody, that.I make a damned   Moo. Relinquish your title in the lady to Belridiculous figure, as matters stand at present. I'll ville peaceably, and you may sleep in a whole
consult Belville-this is his house-he's my friend skin.
too-and no fool-It shall be so-Damn it, I must   Spark. Belville! he would not have your sisnot be ridiculous. [Going to the door, sees PEGGY ter with the fortune of a nabob; no, no, his mouth
coming.] Hold! hold! if the champaign does not waters at your country tit-bit at home; much good
hurt my eye-sight, while it sharpens my wit, the may it do him.
enemy is marching up this way.-Come on, Ma-   Moo. And you think so, puppy-ha, ha, ha l
dam Alithea; now for a smart fire; and then let's   Spark. Yes, I do, mastiff-ha, ha, ha!
see who will be ridiculous.                    MlIoo. Then thy folly is complete-ha, ha, ha!
Spark. Thine will be so, when thou hast nar
XEnter PsatY.       ried thy country innocent-ha, ha, ha!
Peg. Dear me, I begin to tremble; there is                     [They laugh at each other.
Mr. Sparkish, and I can't get to Mr. Belville's
house without passing by him. He sees me, and
will discover me; he seems in liquor too.-Bless    Spark. What, my boy Harcourt I
me!                                            Moo. What brings you here, Sir!
Spark. 0 ho! she stands at bay a little; she   Har. I followed you to Belville's to present. a
don't much relish the engagement. The first blow  near relation of yours, and a nearer one of mine,
is half the battle. I'll be a little figurative with to you.                       [Exit.
her. [Aside; approaches her.] I find, Madam,   KSpark. What's the matter now!
you like a solo better than a duet. You need not
have been walking alone this evening, if you had
been wiser yesterday.-What, nothing to say for   Har. Give me leave, gentlemen, without offence
yourself?-Repentance, I suppose, makes you as to either, to present Mrs. H arcourt to you!
awkward and as foolish as the poor dbuntry girl   Spark. Alithea! your wife!-Mr. Moody, are
your brother has locked up in Pall-madl      you in the clouds too?
Peg. I'm frighted out of my wits.            Moo. If I am not in a dream, I am the most
[ Tries to pass by him. miserable walking dog that ever ran mad with his
Spark. Not a step further shall you go till you misfortunes and astonishment!
give me an account of your behaviour, and make   Har. Why so, Jack? can you object to my
me reparation for being ridiculous.-What, dumb happiness, when this gentleman was unworthy
still! then if you wont, by fair means, I must of it q       [MOODY walks about in a rage.
squeeze you to a confession. [As he goes to seize    Spark. This is very fine, very fine indeed!her, she slips by him; but he catches hold of her Where's your story about Belville now,'squire
before she reaches BELVILLE'S door.] Not quite so Moody'  pr'ythee don't chafe, and stare, and
fast, if you please.-Come, come, let me see your stride, and beat thy head, like a mad tragedy poet
modest- face, and hear your soft tongue, or I shall -but out with thy tropes and figures.
be tempted to use you ill.                     lI'Ioo. Zounds! I can't bear it.
Enter MoonY.                     -    [Goes hastily to BELVILLE'S door, and
knocks hard.
Moo. Hands off, you ruffian! How dare you   Ali. Dear brother, what's the matter 
use a lady, and my sister, in this manner'     Moo. The devil's the matter! the devil and
[Takes her from SPARKISH. women together. [Knocks again.] I'll break the
Spark. She's my property, Sir; transferred to door down, if they wont answer. [Knocks again.]
me by you: and though I would give her up to
any body for a dirty sword-knot, yet I wont be      FOOTMAN appears at the balcony.
bullied out of my right, though it is not worth   Foot. What would your honour please to have?
that.-                    [Snaps his fingers.   Moo. Your master, rascal.
Moo. There's a fellow to be a husband!-You    Foot. He is obeying your commands, Sir; and
are justified in despising him and flying from him. the moment he has finished, he will do himself
I'll defend you with my purse and my sword.- the pleasure to wait on you.
Knock at that door, and let me speak to Belville.   Moo. You sneering villain you, if your master
[PEGGY knocks at the door; when the FOOTMAN  does not produce that she devil. who is now with
opens it, she runs in.]-Is your master at home, him, and who, with a face of innocence, has
friend'.                                    cheated and undone me, I'll set fire to his house.
Foot. Yes, Sir.                                                        [Exit FOOTMAN.
Moo. Tell him then that I have rescued that   Spark.'Gad so! now I begin to smoke the bulady from this gentleman, and that by her desire, siness. Well said, simplicity, rural simplicity!
and my consent, she flies to him for protection;'Egad! if thou hast tricked Cerberus here, I shall
if he can get a parson, let him marry her this be so ravished that I will give this couple a wvedminute; tell him so, and shut the door. [Exit ding dinner. Pray, Mr. Moody, who's damned
FOOTMAN.] And now, Sir, if your wine has given ridiculous nowi 
you courage, you had better show it upon this oc-   Moo. [Going to SPARKISH.] Look ye, Sircasion; for you are stil damned ridiculous.  don't grin, for if you dare to show your teeth at
Spark. Did you ever hear the like l-Look-ye, my misfortunes, I'll dash'em down your impudent
Mr. Moody, we are in the Park, and to draw a throat, you jackanapes.




604                       THE COUNTRY GIRL.                                  [ACr v
Spark. [Quite calm.] Very fine, faith-but I      Re-enter BELVILLE and PEGGY.
nave no weapons to butt with a mad bull, so you Lookye, Belville, I wish you joy with all my
may toss and roar by yourself, if you please.  heart-you have got the prze, and perhaps have
Enter BErVILLEu,  in the balcony.   caught a tartar-that's no business of mine-If
you want evidence for Mr. Moody's giving his
Bel. What does my good friend want with me.  consent to your marriage, I shall be ready. I bear
Moo. Are you a villain, or are you not?  no ill will to that pair: I wish you happy; [ To
Bel. I have obeyed your commands, Sir.   ALITHEA and HARCOURT.]-though I'm  sure
A'loo. What have you done with the girl, Sir?  they'll be miserable-and so your humble serBel. Made her my wife, as you desired.   vant.                                [Exit.
Spark. Very true, I am your witness —       Peg. I hope you forgive me, Alithea, for playMoo. She's my wife, and I demand her.    ing your brother this trick; indeed I should have
only made him and myself miserable, had we
Enter PEGGY, in the balcony.       married together.
Peg. No, but I an't though, bud.-What's the   Ali. Then'tis much better as it is. But I am
matter, dear, are you angry with me?       yet in the dark how this matter has been brought
oo. How dare you look me in the face, cocka- about; how your innocence, my dear, has outtrice?                                     witted his worldly wisdom?
Peg. How dare you look me in the face,   Peg. I am sure I'll do any thing to please my
bud? Have you not given me to another, when bud, but marry him.
you ought to have married me yourself? have not [She comesforward, and addresses the Audience:
you pretended to be married to me, when you But you, good gentry, what say you to this?
knew in your conscience you was not? and have You are to judge me-have I done amiss?
you not been shilly-shally for a long time; so that I've reasons will convince you all, and strong
if I had not married dear Mr. Belville, I should   ones;
not have married at all-so I should not.   Except old folks, who hanker after young ones;
[BELVI,LE and PEGGY retire from tte Bud was so passionate, and grown so thrifty,
balcony.'Twas a sad life-and then, he was near fifty!
Spark. Extremely pleasant, faith; ha, ha, ha! I'm but nineteen-my husband too is young,
M/loo. I am stupified with shame, rage, and So soft, so gentle, such a winning tongue!
astonishment-my fate has overcome me-I can Have I, pray ladies, speak, done very wrong?
struggle no more with it. [Sighs.] What is left As for poor bud,'twas honest to deceive hinm!
me?-I cannot bear to look, or be looked upon-I More virtuous sure to cheat him than to grieve
will hurry down to my old house, take a twelve-    him.
month's provision into it-cut down my draw- Great folks, I know, will call me simple slut;
bridge, run wild about my garden, which shall "Marry for love," they cry, "the country put I"
grow as wild as myself-then will I curse the Marriage with them's a fashion-soon grows
world, and every individual in it-and when nry     cool:
rage and spirits fail me, I will be found dead But I'm for loving always, like a fool.
among the nettles and thistles, a woful example With half my fortune I would rather part,
of the baseness and treachery of one sex, and the Than be all finery, with an aching heart.
falsehood, lying, perjury, deceit, impudence, and For these strange awkward notions don't abuse
damnation, of the other.            [Exit.         me;
Spark. Very droll, and extravagantly comic, I Arnd, as I know no better, pray excuse me.
must confess; ha, ha, ha!                                                    [Exeunt.




THE IRISH WIDOW:
A 3 ARC E,
IN TWO ACTS.
BY DAVID GARRICK, ESQ.
REMARKS.
Tis aftes-piece, by Garrick, was originally intended to introduce the celebrated Mrs. Barry, in a novel spe.
eies of character; and the piece was indebted, for much of its early success, to the peculiar ability of that lady
as the widow Brady. It is now occasionally produced, for the same purpose; and has never had a more lovely
e/eralier to protect it from the critics, than in the assumption of the breeches by Mrs. Mardyn.
DRAMATIS PERSONIE.
COVENT GARDEN, 1807.               DRURY LANE, 1814.
SIR PATRICK O'NEALE,............... Mr.  Waddy.................... Mr. R. Palmer.
WHITTLE..............              Mr. Emery..................... Mr. Hughes.
NEPHEW.......................Mr. Claremont.                  Mr.......... Waldegrave.
BATES,....  Mr. Davenport................. Mr. Carr.
KECSEY,...................         Mr. Simmons...                Mr. Lovegrove.
THOMAS,.....Mr. Blanchard...........                              Mr. IKnight.
FOOTMAN....Mr. Trueman.... Mr. Evans.
WIDOW BRADY,......................rs. Litchfield.Mrs. Mardyn.
Black Boy, Servants, &c.
ACT I.                         Nep. In the first place, I am undone.
SCENE I.-WHITTLE'S  ouse.  c     Bates. In love, I know-I hope your uncle is
not undone too; that would be the devil!
Enter BATES and SERVANT.                Nep. He has taken possession of him in every
Bates. Is he gone out? his card tells me to come  sense. In short, he came to Scarborough to see
directly-I did but lock up some papers, take my  the lady I had fallen in love withhat and cane, and away I hurried.                 Bates. And fell in love himself?
Serv. My master desires you will sit down, he    Nep. Yes, and with the same lady.
will return immediately-he had some business    Bates. That is.the devil indeed 
with his lawyer, and went out in great haste,    Nep. 0, Mr. Bates, when I thought my hapleaving the message I have delivered. Here is my  piness complete, and wanted only my uncle's conyoung master.                          [Exit.  sent, to give me the inerndendence he so often has
promised me, he camp to Scarborough for that
purpose, and wished me joy of my choice; but, in
Bates. What, lively Billy!-Hold, I beg your  less than a week, his approbation turned into a
pardon —melancholy William, I think-Here's a  passion for her: he now hates the sighe.,f me, and
fine revolution-I hear your uncle, who was last is resolved, with the consent of the father,.o make
month all gravity, and you all mirth, have chang-  her his wife directly.
ed characters; he is now all spirit, and you are in    Bates. So he keeps you out of your fortune,
the dumps, young man.                           wont give his consent, which his brother's foolish
Nep. And for the same reason-this journey to  will requires, and he would marry himself the
Scarborough will unfold the riddle.             same woman, because right, title, conscience, naBates. Come, come, in plain English, and be-  ture, justice, and every law divine and human, are
fare your uncle comes, explain the matter.      against it.
51*                                                         605




606                         THE IRISH WIDOW.                                    [ACrTI.
ANep. Thus he tricks me at once both of wife frisks, and prances, and runs about, as if he had a
and fortune, without the least want of either.  new pair of legs-he has left off his brown camlet
Bates. Well said, friend Whittle! but it can't surtout, which he wore. all the summer: and now,
be, it sha'n't be, and it must not be-this is mur- with his hat under his arm, he goes open-breasted,
der and robbery in the strongest sense, and he:and he dresses, and powders, and smirks, so that
sha'n't be hanged in chains to be laughed at by iyou would take him for the mad Frenchman in
the whole town, if I can help it.            Bedlam-something wrong in his upper-story —
Nep. I am distracted, the widow is distressed, Would you think it? —he wants me to wear a
and we both shall run mad.                   pig-tail!
Bates. A widow too!'gad a mercy, threescore    Bates. Then he is far gone indeed!
and five!                                      Tho. As sure as you are there, Mr. Bates, a
Nep. But such a widow! She is now in town  pig-tail!-we have had sad work about it-I made
with her father, who wants to get her off his hands; a compromise with him to wear these ruffled shirts'tis equal to him who has her, so she is provided which he gave me; but they stand in my way-I
for-I hear somebody coming-I must away to am not so listness with them —though I have tied
her lodgings, where she waits for me to execute a up my hands for him, I wont tie up my head, that
scheme directly for our delivery.            I am resolute.
Bates. What is her name, Billy.             Bates. This it is to be in love, Thomas!
Nep. Brady.                                  Tho. He may make free with himself, he shan't
Bates. Brady! Is not she daughter to Sir Pa- make a fool of me-he has got his head into a bag,
trick O'Neale?                              but I wont have a pig-tail tacked to mine-and so
Nep. The same. She was sacrificed to the I':told him -
most senseless, drunken, profligate in the whole   Bates. What did you tell him?
country. He lived to run out -his fortune; and   - Tho. That as I and my-father, and -his father
the only advantage she got from the union was, before me, had wore their own hair as heaven:had
he broke that and his neck before he had broke sent it, I thought myself rather too old to. set up
her heart.                                   for a monkey at my time of life, and wear a pigBates. The affair of marriage is, in this coun- tail-he, he, he!-he took it.
try, put upon the easiest footing; there is neither   Bates. With a wry face, for it was wormwood.
love nor hate in the matter; necessity brings them  Tho. Yes, he was frumped, and called me old
together; they are united at first for their mutual blockhead, and would not speak to me the rest of
convenience, and separated ever after for their the day-but the next day he was at it again-he
particular pleasures-O rare matrimony!-Where then put me into a passion-and I could not help
does she lodge 1                             telling him, that I was an Englishman born, and
Nep. In Pall-Mall, near the hotel.         had my prerogative as well as he; and that as long
Bates. I'll call in my way, and assist at the as I had breath in my body I was for liberty, and
consultation;. I am for a bold stroke, if gentle me- a straight head of hair.
thods should fail.                             Bates. Well said, Thomas-he could not anNep. We have a plan, and a spirited one, if my swer that.
sweet widow is able to go through it-pray let us    Tho. The poorest man in England is a match
have your friendly assistance-ours is the cause for the greatest, if-he will but stick to the laws of
of love and reason.                          the land, and the statute books, as they are deBates. Get you gone, with your love and rea- livered down-to us from-our forefathers.
son, they seldom pull together now-a-days.-I'll   Bates. You are right-we must lay our wits
give your uncle a dose first, and then I'll meet you together, and drive the widow out of your old
at the widow's-What says your uncle's privy master's head, and put her into your young mascounsellor, Mr. Thomas, to this.            ter's hands.
Nep. He is greatly our friend, and will enter   Tho. With all my heart-nothing can be more
sincerely into our service-he is honest, sensible, meritorious-marry at his years! what a terrible
ignorant, and particular; a kind of half coxcomb, account would he make of it, Mr. Bates! Let me
with a thorough good heart-but he's here.   see-on the debtor side sixty-five-and per contra
Bates. Do you go about your business, and creditor, a buxom widow of twenty-three- He'll
leave the rest to me.        [Exit NEPHEW. be a bankrupt in a fortnight —he, he, he!
Bates. And so he would, Mr. Thomas-what
Enter THOMAS with a pamphlet.         have you got in your hand 
Mr. Thomas, I am glad to see you: upon my    Tho. A pamphlet, my old gentleman takes inword, you look charmingly-you wear well, Mr. he has left off buying histories and religious pieces
Thomas.                                      by numbers, as he used to do: and since he has
Tho. Which is a wonder, considering how times got this widow in his head, he reads nothing but
go, Mr. Bates-they'll wear and tear me too, if I the Amorous Repository, Cupid's Revels Call to
don't take care of myself; my old master has taken  Marriage, Hymen's Delights, Love lies a Bleedthe nearest way to wear himself out, and all that ing, Love in the Suds, and such like tender comolong to him.                                positions.
Bates. Why surely this strange story about   Bates. Here he comes, with all his folly about
town is not true, that the old gentleman is fallen:him.
m love?                                       Who. Yes, and the first fool from Vanity-fair
Tho. Ten times worse than that!           -Heaven help us-love turns man and woman
Bates. The devil!                         topsy-turvy.
Tho. And his horns,-going to be married!     Whit. [Without.] Where is he? where is my
Bates. Not if I can help it.              good friend?
* Tho. You never saw such an altered man in              Enter WHIITTLE.
your born days! he's grown young again; he Ha here he is-give me your hand.




SCENE II.]                   THE: IRISH   WIDOW.                                   607
Bates. I am glad to see you in such spirits, my  times, and among people of fashion; so none of,4d gentleman.                               my neighbours, thank Heaven, can have the assuWhit. Not so old neither; no man ought to be rance to laugh at me.
called old, friend Bates, if he is in health, spirits,     Enter KECKSEY.
andBates. in his senses-which I should ratherl jKeckle. What, my friend Whittle! joy, joy! to
doubt, as I never saw you half so frolicsome in my you, old boy-you are going, a going, a going  a
life.                                        fine widow has bid for you, and will have you —
Whit. Never too old to learn, friend; and if I hah, friend  al for the best-there is nothing like
don't make use of my own philosophy now, I may it-hugh, hugh, hugh-a good wife is a good
wear it out in twenty years-I have been always thing, and a young one is a better-hah-wlio's
bantered as of too grave a cast-you know, when afraid. If I had not lately married one, I should
Young Wisdom. hugh, hugh!
Bates. And if they should call you Old Folly, it   Whit. Thank, thank you, friend! I was comwill be a much worse name. -ing to advise with you —I am got into the pond
Whit. No youngjackanapes dares to call me so, again-in love up to the ears-a fine woman,
while I have this friend at my side.         faith; and there's no love lost between us. Am I
[ Touches his swod. right, fiiend?
Bates. A hero too! What in the name of com-   Keck. Right! ay, right as my leg, Tom! Life's
mon sense, is come to you, my friend!-high s   nothing without love-hugh, hugh! I am happy
rits, quick honour, a long sword, and a bag!-you     the day's long  my wife loves gadding, and I
want nothing but to be terribly in love, and then  can't stay at home; so we are both of a mindyou may sally forth Knight of the Woful Counte- she's every night at one or other of the gay places;
nance. Ha, ha, ha!                          but among friends, I am a little afraid of the damp;
Wh7it. Mr. Bates-the ladies who are the best hugh, hugh! she has got an Irish gentleman, a
kind of cousin of hers, to take care of her; a fine
opinion; fellow; and so good natured- It is a vast cornmand unless you'll be a little serious, I must beg
pand uogvnless you'l be a littrle  and 1'rs 11 open fort to have such a friend in a family!. Hugh,
pardon for giving you this trouble, and I'llopen
my mind to some more attentive friend.       hugh, hugh!
Bates. Well, come, unlock then, you wild,   Whit. You are a bold man, cousin Keksey.
handsome, vigorous, young dog you-I  will   Keck. Bold! ay, to be sure; none but the brave
please you ifg  can.                         deserves the fair-Hugh, hugh!'who's afraid?
Whit. I believe you never saw me look better,   Whit. Why your wife is five feet ten.
Frank, did you?                                Keck. Without her shoes. I hate your little
Bates. 0 yes, rathei better forty years ago.   shrimps; none of your lean, leagre fiuresr me;
Whit. What, when I was at IMercharnt Tai- I was always fond of the majestic: give Te a. slice
lors' School?                                of a good English surloin; cut and comne again;
Bates. At Lincoln's Inn, Tom.              hugh, hugh! that's my taste.
Whit. I'm glad you have so good a stomach.
Whit. It can't be-i never disguise my age, AWhit. I'm glad you have o good a stomach
and next February I shall be fifty-four.:      nd so you would advise
Bates. Fifty-four! why I am sixty, and you directly?
always licked me at school-though I believe I Kek. To be sure-you have not a moment to
could do as much for you now, and'ecod I believe lose; I always mind what the poet says,
you deserve it too.'Tis folly to lose time,
Whit. I tell you I am in my fifty-fifth year.      When a man is in his pime.
Bates. O, you are-let me see-we were toge- Hugh,hugh, hugh!
ther at Cambridge, Anno Domini twenty-five,   Whit. You have an ugly cough, cousin.
which is near fifty years ago-you came to the Keck. Marriage is the best lozenge for it.
wshit. You have raised me from the dead —I amn
college, indeed, surprisingly young; and, what is
more surprising, by this calculation you went to glad you came-Frank Bates had almost kille
school before you was born-you was alwaygs a me with his jokes-but you have comforted me,
forward child.                               and we will walk through the park; and I will
Whit. I see there is no talking or consulting carry you to the widow    Pallmall.
with you in this humour; and so, Mr. Bates,   Keck. With all my heart-I'll raise her spirita,
and yours too-courage, Tom-come aloing —
when you are in temper to show less of your wit, and yours tooourage, Tom-come along —
and more ofyourfriendship,I shallconsult withyou.
Bates. Fare you well, my old boy-young fel-   SCENE II. —The Widow's Lodging.
low, I mean-when you have done sowing your
wild oats, and have been blistered into your right  Enter WIDOW, NEPHEW, and BATES.
senses; when you have half killed yourself with    Bates. Indeed, Madam, there is no other way
being a beau, and return to your woollen caps, but to cast off your real character, and assume a
flannel waistcoats, worsted stockings, cork soles, feigned one; it is an extraordinary occasion, and
and galoches, I am at your service again. So, bon requires extraordinary measures; pluck up a spirit,
jour to you, Monsieur Fifty-four-ha, ha! [Exit. and do it for the honour of your sex.
JIhit. He has certainly heard of my affair-but   Nep. Only consider, my sweet widow, that our
he is old and peevish-he wants spirits and all is at stake.
strength of constitution to conceive my happiness   Wid. Could I bring my heart to act contrary
-I am in love with the widow, and must have her * to its feelings, would not you hate me for being a
every man knows his own wants-let the world hypocrite, though it is done for your sake?- 
laugh, and my friends stare! let'em call me im-   Nep. Could I think myself capable of such inprudent, and mad, if they please-I live in good gratitude



608                        THE IRISH WIDOW.                                     [ACT I.
Wid. Could we live upon affection, I would    Bates. Huzza! huzza!              r[Eit.
give your fortune to your uncle, and thank him
for taking it; and then-                               SCENE III.-The Park.
Nep. What then, my sweet widow?                    Enter WHITTLE and KECESEY.
Wid. I would desire you to run away with me    Whit. Yes, yes, she is Irish, but so modest, so
as fast as you can.-What a pity it is that this mild, and so tender, and just enough of the accent
money, which my heart despises, should hinder to give a peculiar sweetness to her words, which
its happiness, or that, for the want of a few dirty drop from her in monosyllables, with such a deli
acres, a poor woman must be made miserable, and
cate reserve, that I shall have all the comfort,
sacrificed twice to those who have them.     without the impertinence, of a wife.
Nep. Heaven forbid! these exquisite sentiments   Keck. There our taste differs, friend; I am for
endear you more to me, and distract me with the a lively, smart girl in my house, hugh, hugh! to
dread of losing you.                         keep up my spirits, and make me merry; I don't
Bates. Young folks, let an old man, who is not admire dumb waiters, not I, no still life for me;
quite in love, and yet will admire a fine woman to love the prittle prattle, it sets me to sleep, and T
the day of his death, throw in a little advice among can take a sound nap, while my Sally and her
your flames and darts.                       cousin are running and playing about the house
Wid. Though a woman, a widow, and in love like young cats.
too, I can hear reason, Mr. Bates.             Whit. I am for no cats in my house; I cannot
Bates. And that's a wonder-you have no time sleep with a noise; the widow was made on pur.
to lose; for want of a jointure you are still your pose for me; she is so bashful, has no acquaintfather's slave; he is obstinate, and has promised ance, and she never would stir out of doors if hey
you to the old man: now, Madam, if you will not friends were not afraid of a consumption, and so
rise superior to your sex's weakness, to secure a force her into the air. Such a delicate creature. 
young fellow instead of an old one, your eyes are you shall see her; you were always for a tall, chata couple of hypocrites.                      tering, frisky wench; now, for my part, I am with
Wid. They are a couple of traitors, I'm sure, the old saying,
and have led their mistress into a toil, from which         Wife a mouse,
all her wit cannot release her.                             Quiet house;
Nep. But it can, if you will but exert it; my             Wife a cat,
uncle adored and fell in love with you for your             Dreadful that.
beauty, softness, and almost speechless reserve.   Keck. I don't care for your sayings-who's
Now, if amidst all his rapturous ideas of your de- afraid 
licacy, you would bounce upon him a wild, rant-   Whit. There goes Bates, let us avoid him, he
ing. buxom widow, he will grow sick of his bar- will only be joking with us; when 1 have taken a
gain, and give me a fortune to take you off his serious thing into my head, I can't bear to have it
hands.                                  laughed out again. This way, friend Kecksey.Wid. I shall make a very bad actress.     What have we got here?
Nep. You are an excellent mimic; assume but   Keck. [Looking out.] Some fine prancing
the character of your Irish female neighbour in wench, with her lovers and footmen about her;
the country, with which you astonished us so she's a gay one by her motions.
agreerably at Scarborough; you will frighten my    Whit. Were she not so flaunting, I should take
uncle into terms, and do that for us which neither it for-  No, it is impossible; and yet is not that
my love nor your virtue can accomplish without it. my nephew with her  I forbade him speaking to
Wid. Now for a trial [Mimicking a strong her; it can't be the widow; I hope it is not.
brogue.] Fait and trot, if you will be after bringing me before the old jontleman, if he loves music,   Enter WIow, followed by NEPHEW, three
I will trate his ears with a little of the brogue, and  Footmen, and a black Boy.
some dancing too into the bargain if he loves caper-   Wid. Don't bother me, young man, with your
ing.-O bless me! my heart fails me, and I am  darts, your Cupids, and your pangs; if you had
frightened out of my wits; I can never go through half of'em about you that you swear you have,
it.             [NEP. and BATES both laugh. they would have cured you, by killing you long
Nep. [Kneeling and kissing her hand.] O,'tis ago. Would you have me faitless to your uncle,
admirable! Love himself inspires you, and we hah! young man? Was not I faitful to you, till
shall conquer; what say you, Mr. Bates?     I was ordered to be faitful to him?  But I must
Bates. I'll insure you success; I can scarce be- know more of your English ways, and live more
lieve my own ears; such a tongue and a brogue among the English ladies, to learn how to be faitwould make Hercules tremble at five-and-twenty; ful to two at a time-and so there's my answer
but, away, away, and give him a broadside in the for you.
Park; there you'll find him hobbling with that ol( L Nep. Then I know my relief, for I cannot live
cuckold, Kecksey.                            without you.                          [Exit.
Wid. But will my dress suit the character I play.   Wid. Take what relief you plase, youngjontleNep. The very thing; is your retinue ready, man; what have I to do with dat? IHe is certainly
and your part got by heart?                 mad, or out of his sinses, for he swears he can t
Wid. All is ready:'tis an act of despair to pu- live without me, and yet he talks of killing himnish folly, and reward merit:'tis the last effort of self! How does he make out dat? If a countrypure, honourable love: and if every woman would man of mine had made such a blunder, they would
exert the same spirit for the same out-of-fashion have put it into all the newspapers, and Faulkt
rarity, there would be less business for Doctors'- ner's Journal beside; but an Englishman may
oQmnnons. Now let the critics laugh at me if they look over the hedge, while an Irishman must not
larte.                     [Exit, with spirit. stale a horse.
Nen. Brava! bravissima! sweet widow! [Exit.   Keck. Is this the widow, friend Whittle?




SCENE TI.                   THE IRISH WIDOW.                                      609
Whit. I don't know, [Sighing.] it is, and it is very sorrowful a month ago for the loss of your
not.                                         husband, and that you could dry qp your tears so
Wid. Your servant, Mr. Whittol; I wish you soon, naturally makes me a little thoughtful.
would spake to your nephew not to be whining    Wid. Indeed I could dry up my tears for a doand dangling after me all day in his green coat. zen husbands, when I was sure of having a tirIt is not for my reputation that he should follow  teenth like Mr. Whittol; that's very natural sure
me about like a beggar-man, and ask me for what both in England and Dublin too.
I had given him along ago, but have since be-   Keck. She wont die of a consumption; she nam
stowed upon you, Mr. Whittol.                a fine full-toned voice, and you'll be very happy,
Whit. He is an impudent beggar, and shall be Tom —Hugh, hugh!
really so, for his disobedience.               Whit. 0, yes, very happy.
Wid. As he can't live without me, you know,   Wiid. But come, don't let us be melancholy beit will be charity to starve him: I wish the poor fore the time; I am sure I have been moped up
young man dead with all my heart, as he thinks for a year and a half-I was obliged to mourn for
it will do him a great dale of good.         my first husband, that I might be sure of a second;
Keck. [ To WHITTLE.] She is tender, indeed! and my father kept my spirits in subjection, as
and I think she has the brogue a little-hugh, the best recipe (he said) for changing a widow
hugh!                                       into a wife; but now I have my arms and legs at
Whit.'Tis stronger to-day than ever I heard it. liberty, I must and will have my swing: now I
[Staring. am out of my cage, I could dance two nights toWid. And are you now talking of my brogue' gether, and a day too, like any singing bird; and
It is always the most fullest when the wind is I'm in such spirits that I have got rid of my father,
aesterly; it has the same effect upon me, as upon I could fly over the moon without wings, and back
stammering people-they can't spake for their im- again, before dinner. Bless my eyes, and don't I see
pediment, and my tongue is fixed so loose in my there Miss Nancy O'Flarty, and her brother,
mouth I can't stop it for the life of me.    Captain O'Flarty?  He was one of my dying
TWhit. What a terrible misfortune, friend Keck- Strephons at Scarborough —I have a very grate
sey!                                        regard for him, and must make him a little miserIfeck. Not at all; the more tongue the better, able. with my happiness. [Courtesies.]  Come
say I.                                       along, skips, [ To the servants.] don't you be gosWid. When the wind changes, I have no tring there; show your liveries, and bow to your
brogue at all, at all. But come, Mr. Whittol, don't master that is to be, and to his friend, and hold up
let us be vulgar, and talk of our poor relations. It your heads, and trip after me as lightly as if you
is impossible to be in this metropolis of London, had no legs to your feet. I shall be with you
and have any thought but of operas, plays, mas- again, jontlemen, in the crack of a fan —O, I'll
querades, and pantaons, to keep up one's spirits have a husband, ay, marry.
in the winter; and Vauxhall fire-works to cool         [Exit singing, followed by Footmen.
and refresh one in the summer.-La, la, la! [Sings.   Keck. A fine buxom widow, faith! no acquaintWhit. I protest, she puts me into a sweat; we ance —delicate reserve-mopes at home-forced
shall have a mob about us.                   into the air-inclined to a consumption.-What
Keck. The more the merrier, I say-who's a description you gave of your wife! Why, she
afraid'                                     beats my Sally, Tom.
Wid. How the people stare! as if they never   Whit. Yes, and she'll beat me if I don't take
saw a woman's voice before; but my vivacity has care! WThat a change is here! I must turn
got the better of my good manners. This, 1 sup- about, or this will turn my head. Dance for two
pose, this strange gentleman is a near friend and nights together, and leap over the moon! you shall
relation, and as such, notwithstanding his appar- dance and leap by yourself, that I am resolved.
ance, I shall always trate him, though I might  IKeck. Here she comes again; it does my heart
dislike him upon a nearer acquaintance.      good to see her-you are in luck, Tom.
Keck. Madam, you do me honour; I like your   Whit. I'd give a finger to be out of such luck.
frankness, and I like your person, and I envy my
friend Whittle; and if you were not engaged, and         Re-enter WIDow, c4c.
I were not married, I would endeavour to make
myself agreeable to you, that I would-hugh, hugh!   Wid. Ha, ha, ha! the poor captain is marched
Wid. And, indeed, Sir, it would be very agra- off in a fury. He can't bear to hear that the town
able to me; for if I did hate you as much as I did has capitulated to you, Mr. Whittol. I have promy first dare husband, I should always have the mised to introduce him to you. He will make
comfort, that in all human probability my tor- one of my danglers to take a little exercise with
ments would not last long.                   me, when you take your nap in the afternoon.
Keck. She utters something more than mono-   Whit. You sha'n't catch me napping, I assure
syllables, friend; this is better than bargain: she you.  What a discovery and escape I have made!
has a fine bold way of talking.              I tremble with the thought of my danger! [Aside.
Whit. More bold than welcome! I am struck    Keck. I protest, cousin, there goes my wife, and
all of a heap.                               her friend, Mr. Mac Brawn. What a fine stately
Wid. What, are you low-spirited, my dare Mr. couple they are! I must after'em, and have a
Whittol? When you were at Scarborough, and laugh with them-now they giggle and walk quick,
winning my affections, you were all mirth and that I mayn't overtake'em. NMadam, your serFyety: and now you have won me, you are as vant. You're a happy man, Tom. Keep up your
thoughtful about it as if we had been married spirits, old boy. Hugh, hugh!-Who's afraid 1
some time.                                                                         [Exit.
Whit. Indeed, Madam, [ can't but say I am a    Wid. I know Mr. Mac Brawn extremely well
little thoughtful —we take it by turns; you were -he was very intimate at our house, in my first
VoL. I....4H




610                         THE IRISH WIDOW.                                    [ATr 11.
husband's time; a great comfort he was to me to know us asunder when we are together; you will
be sure! He would very often leave his claret and be very fond of him, poor lad! he lives by his wits,
companions for a little conversation with me. He as you do by your fortune, and so you may assist
was bred at the Dublin university, and being a one another. Mr. Whittol, your obadient, till we
very deep scholar, has fine talents for a tate-a-tate. meet at the Pantaon. Follow me, Pompey; and,
Whit. She knows him too! I shall have my skips, do you follow him.
house overrun with the Mac Brawns; OShoul-   Pomp. The Baccararo whiteman not let blacky
ders, and the blood of the Backwells. Lord have boy go first after you, Missis, they pull and pinch
mercy upon me!                       [Aside. me.
Wid. Pray, Mr. Whittol, is that poor spindle-   Foot. It is a shame, your ladyship, that a black
legged crater of a cousin of yours lately married. negro should take place of English Christians —
ha, ha, ha! I don't pity the poor crater his wife, we can't follow him, indeed.
tbr that agraable cough of his will soon reward' her   Wid. Then you may. follow one another out of
for all her sufferings                       my. sarvice; if you follow me, you shall follow
Whit. What a delivery! a reprieve before the him, for he shall go before me; therefore, resigns.:
knot was tied.                       [Aside. as fast as: you plase; you sha'n't oppose governWid. Are you unwell, Mr. Whittol?. I should ment and keep your places too, that is not good
be sorry you would fall sick before the happy day. politics in England or Ireland either; so come
Yourbeing in danger afterwards would be a great along, Pompey, be after going before me.- Mr.
consolation to me, because I should have the plea- Whittol, most tenderly yours.
sure of nursing you myself.                               [Exeunt WIDOW and attendants.
Whit. I hope never to give you that trouble,   Wfhit. Most tenderly yours! [Mimicks her.]
Madam.'Ecod, I believe you are, and any body's else, O0
WTid. No trouble at all, at all; I assure you, what an escape have I had! But how shall I clear
Sir, from my soul, that I shall take great delight myself of this business? I'll serve her as I would
inl the occasion.                            bad money, put her off into other hands: my neWhit. Indeed, Madam, I believe it.         phew is fool enough to be in love with her- amnd if
Wid. I don't care how soon, the sooner the I give him a fortune he'll take the good and the
better; and the more danger the more honour; I bad together-he shall do so or starve. I'll send
spake from my heart.                         for Bates directly, confess my folly, ask his parTVhit. And so do I from mine, Madam.       don, send him to my nephew, write and declare
[Sighs. off with the widow, and so get rid of her tindeiWid. But don't let us think of future pleasure, ness as fast as I can.           [E&it,
and neglect the present satisfaction. My mantua-maker is waiting for me to choose my clothes,              ACT 1I.
in which I shall forget the sorrows of Mrs. Brady,
in the joys of Mrs. Whittol. Though I have no   SCENE I.-A Room in WHITTLE'S Hxse.
fortune myself, I shall bring a tolerable one to you,  Enter BATES and WHITTLE.
in debts, Mr. Whittol, and which I will pay you
tinfold in tenderness; your deep purse, and my    Whit. Well, Mr. Bates, have you talked with
open heart, will make us the envy of the little my nephew; is not he overjoyed at the proposal?
grate ones, and the grate little ones; the people of   Bates. The demon of discord has been among
quality with no souls, and grate souls with no you, and has untuned the whole family; you have
cash at all. I hope you'll meet me at the Pantaon screwed him too high; the young man is out of
this evening. Lady Rantiton and her daughter, his senses, I think; he stares, mopes about, and
Miss Nettledown, and Nancy Tittup, withhalfa sighs; looks at me indeed, but gives very absurd
dozen macaroonies, and two savoury vivers, are to answers; I don't like him.
take me there, and we propose a grate deal of chat   Whit. What is the matter, think you 2
and merriment, and dancing all night, and all   Bates. What I have always expected; there is
other kind of recreations. I am  quite another a crack in your family, and you take it by turns!
kind of a crater, now I am a bird in the fields; I you have- had it, and now: transfer it to your necan junket about a week together; I have a fine phew; which, to your shame be it spoken, is the
constitution, and am never molested with your only transfer you have ever made him.
nasty vapours; are you ever troubled: with vapours,   Whit. But, am I not going to do him more
Mr. Whittol?                                than justice??Whit. A little, now and then, Madam.        Bates. As you have done him much less than
lTid. I'll rattle'em away like smoke! there are justice hitherto, you can't begin too soon.
no vapours where I come; I hate your dumps, and    Whit. Am not I going to give him the lady he
your nerves, and your megrims; and I had much likes, and which I was going to marry myself?
rather break your rest with a little racketting, than    Bates. Yes; that is, you are taking a perpetual
let any thing get into your head that should not blister off your own back, to clap it upon his.
be there, Mr. Whittol.                       What a tender uncle you are 
Whit. I will take care that nothing shall be in    Whit. But you don't consider the estate which
my head, but what ought to be there. What a I shall give him.
deliverance!                        [Aside.   Bates. Restore to him, you mean-'tis his own,
Wid. [Looking at her twatch.] Bless me  how  and you should have given it up long ago: you
the hours of the clock creep away when we are must do more, or old Nick will have you; your
pJased with our company: but I must lave you, nephew wont take the widow off your hands withfor there are half a hundred people waiting for me out a fortune: throw him ten thousand into the
to pick your pocket, Mr. Whittol; and there is bargain.
my own brother, lieutenant O'Neale, is to arrive   WTlhit. Indeed but I sha'n't; he shall run mad,
this morning, and he is so like me you would not and I'll marry he.r myself rather than do that.




SCENE-I.1                  THE  IRISH  WIDOW.                                       611
Mr. Bates, be a true friend, and sooth my nephew  devil a word of your infirmities will she touch
to consent to my proposal.                    upon; 1 have brought her up to softness and to
Bates. You have raised the fiend, and ought to gentleness, as a kitten to new milk; she will spake
lay him; however, I'll do my best for you; when nothing but no and yes, as if she were dumb; and
the head is turned, nothing can bring it right no tame rabbit or pigeon will keep house, or be
again so soon as ten thousand pounds; shall I more injanious with her needle and tambourine.
promise for you.                               Whit. She is vastly altered then since I saw
Whit. I'll sooner go to Bedlam myself. [Exit her last, or I have lost my senses, and in either
BATES.] Why, I'm in a- worse condition than case we had much better, since I must speak plain,
I was before. If this widow's father will not let not come together —me off without providing for his daughter, I may    Sir P. Till you are married, you mean-with
lose a great sum of money, and none of us, be the all my heart, it is the more: gentale for that, and
better for' it; my nephew half mad; myself half like our family: I never saw Lady O'Neale, your
married; and no remedy for either of us.     mother-in-law, who, poor crater, is dead, aind can
Enter SERVANT.                 never be a mother-in-law again, till the week beyfore I married her; and. I did not care if I- had
Serv. Sir Patrick O'Neale is come to-wait- upon never seen her then, which is a comfort too in
you, would you please to see him?           case of death, or accidents in' life.
lW~hit. By -all means, the very person I wanted;   Whit. But you- don't understand me, Sir Padon't let him wait. [Exit SERVANT.] I wonder trick, I sayif he has seen my letter to the widow; I will sound    Sir P. I say, how can that be, when we both
him by degrees, that I may be sure of my mark spake Engliishbefore I strike the blow.                       TVhit. But you mistake my meaning, and don't
comprehend mwe.
Enter SIn PATRICK O'NEALIE.
Sir P. Then you don't comprehend yourself,
Sir P. Mr. Whizzle, your humble servant.; it Mr. Whizzle, and I have not the -gift of prophecy
gives me great pleasure, that an old jontleman of to find out, after you have spoke,. what never was.
your property, will have the honour of being united in you. 
with the family of the O'Neales; we have been   4Whit. Let: me entreat you to attend to me atoo much jontlemen not to spend our estate, as little.
you have made yourself a kind of jontleman by    Sir P. I do attend, man; I don't interrupt you
getting one; one runs out one way, and t'other -out with it.
runs in another, which makes them both meet at   Whit. Your daughter —
last, and keeps up the balance of Europe.       Sir P. Your wife that is to be. Go on.
Whit. I am much obliged to you, Sir Patrick:   Whit. Mv wife that is not to be-Zounds! iwill
I am an old gentleman, you say true; and I was you hear me 
thinking-                                       Sir P. To be or not to be, is that the question?
Sir P. And I was thinking if you was ever so I: can swear too, if it wants a little of that.
old, my daughter can't make you young again; she  - Whit. Dear Sir PatTick, hear ine. I confess
has as fine, rich, tick blood in her veins, as any in - myself unworthy of her; I have- the greatest reall Ireland. I wish you had a swate crater of a gard: for you- Sir-Patrick.; I should think myself
daughter like mine, that we might make a double:hoinoured by being in your family, but there are
cross of it.                                 many reasonsWhit. That would be a double cross indeed!  Sir P. To be sure there are many reasons why
[Aside. an old man-shouldhnot marry a young woman; but
Sir P. Though I was miserable enough with that was your business, and not mine.
my first wife, who had the devil of a spirit, and    Whit. I have- wrote a letter to your daughter,
the very model of her daughter, yet a brave man which I was in hopes you had seen, and brought
never shrinks from danger, and I may have-better me an answer to it.
luck another time.                             Sir P. What the devil, Mr. Whizzle, do youWhit. Yes, but I am no brave man, Sir Pa- make a letter-porter of me? Do you imagine, you
trick, and I begin to shrink already.        dirty fellow, with your cash, that Sir Patrick
Sir P. I have bred her up in great subjection; O'Neale would carry your letters?  I would have
she is as tame as a young colt, and as tinder as a you know that I despise letters, and all that belong
sucking chicken; you will find her a true jontle- to'em; nor would I carry a letter to the king,
woman, and so knowing that you can teach her Heaven bless him, unless it came from myself.
nothing-; she brings every thing but money, and    Whit. But, dear Sir Patrick, don't be in a pasyou- have enough of that, if you have nothing else, sion for nothing.
and that is what I call the balance of things.  Sir P. What, is it nothing to- make a pennyWhit. But I have been considering your daugh- postman of me?  But I'll go to my daughter diter's great deserts, and my great age-       rectly, for I have not seen her' to-day; and if I find
Sir P. She is a charming crater; I would ven- -that you have written any thing that I wont unture to say that, if I was not her father.   derstand, I shall take it as an affront to my family;
Whit. I say, Sir, as I have been considering and you shall either let out the noble blood of the
your daughter's great deserts, and as I own I have O'Neales, or I will spill the last drop of the red
great demerits —                             puddle of the Whizzles. [Going, returns.]Sir P. To be sure you have, but you can't help  Harkye, you Mr. Whizzle, Wheezle, Whistle
that; and if my daughter was- to mention any  what's your name? You must not stir till I come
thing of fleering at your age, or your stinginess, back; if you offer to ate, drink, or sleep till my ho.
by the balance of power, but I would make her nour is satisfied,'twill be the worst male you ever
repate it a hundred times to your face, to make took in your life; you had better fast a year, and
her ashamed of it: but mum, old gentleman, the dieat the end of six months, thany dare to lave




612;                       THE IRISH WIDOW.                                    LAC-T I
your house. So now, Mr. Wheezle, you are to do    WVhit. Stay, stay, Thomas; tell them I am very
as you plase.                         [Exit. busy, and they must come to-morrow morning; —
Whit, Now the devil is at work indeed! If some stay, stay, that is'prcmising payment; no, no, no
miracle don't save me, I shall run mad like my -tell'em they must stay till I am married, and
nephew, and have a long Irish sword through me so they will be satisfied, and tricked into the barinto the bargain.                            gain.
Enter THOMAS.                    Tho. When you are tricked we shall all be saSad work, Thomas!tisfied.                                  [Aside and exit.
Sad work, Thomas!                              Whit. That of all dreadful things, I should
Tho. Sad work, indeed! why would you think  think of a woman, and that woman should be a
of marrying?  I knew what it would come to.    widow, and that woman should be an Irish one.
Whit. Why, what is it come to'           -Who have we here. Another of the family, I
Tito. It is in all the papers.            suppose.                            [Retires.
Whit. So much the better; then nobody will
believe it.                       -          Enter WIDnow as Lieutenant O'Neale, seeming~ Tho. But they come to me to inquire.        lyfluttered, and putting up his sword, THOWhit. And you contradict it 2               MAsfollowing.
Tho. What signifies that. I was telling lady
Gabble's footman, at the door just now, that it was    Tho. I hope you are not hurt, captain.
all a lie, and your nephew looks out of the two-   Wid. 0, not at all, at all;'tis well they run
pair-of-stairs window, with eyes all on fire, and away, or I should have made them run fastei'; I
tells the whole story; upon that there gathered shall teach them how to snigger and look through
such a mob!                                 glasses at their betters; these are your maccaroons,
Whit. I shall be murdered, and have my house as they call themselves; by my soul but I would
pulled down into the bargain!               have taught them better manners, if they would
Tho. It is all quiet again. I told them the have stood still till I had overtaken them; these
young man was out of his senses, and that you whipper-snappers look so much more like girls in
were out of town; so they went away quietly, and breeches, than those I see in petticoats, that fait
said they would come and mob you another time. and trot, it is a pity to hurt'em; but to business;
Whit. Thomas, what shall I        do?     friend, where is your master?
Tho. Nothing you have done, if you will have    Tho. There, captain; I hope he has not ofmnatters amend.                              fended you.
Whit. I am out of my depth, and you wont   Wid. If you are impartinent, Sir, you will
lend me your hand to draw me out.           offend me; lave the room.
Tho. You were out of your depth to fall in love;   Tho. I value my life too much not to do- that
swim away ao fast as you can, you'll be drowned -what a raw-boned Tartar! I wish he had not
if you marry.                                been caught and sent here.
Whit. I'm frightened out of my wits; yes, yes,                [Aside to WHITTLE; exit.'tis all over with me; I must not stir out of my    Whit. Her brother, by all that's terrible! and
house; but am ordered to stay to be murdered in as like her as two tigers! 1 sweat at the sight of
it for aught I know;-what are you muttering, him; I'm sorry Thomas is gone; he has been
Thomas? Pr'ythee speak out and comfort me.   quarrelling already.                [Aside.
Tho. It is all a judgment upon you; because    Whid. Is your name  Whittol?
your brother's foolish will says the young man    Whit. My name is Whittle, not Whittol.
must have your consent, you wont let him have   Wid. We shan't stand for trifes-and you were
her, but will marry the widow yourself; that's the born and christened c by the name of Thomas 
dog in the manger; you can't eat the oats, and    Whit. So they told me, Sir.
wont let those who can.                        Wid. Then they told no lies, fait; so far, so
Whit. But I consent that he shall have both good. [Takes out a letter.] Do you know that
the widow and the fortune, if we can get him into handwriting?
his right senses.                              Whit. As well as I know this good friend of
Tho. For fear I should lose mine, I'll get out mine, who helps me upon such occasions.
of Bedlam as soon as possible; you must provide      [Showing his right hand, and smiling.
yourself with another servant.                 Wid. You had better not show  your teeth, Sir
Whit. The whole earth conspires against me! till we come to the jokes —the hand-writing is
you shall stay with me till I die, and then you yours.
shall have a good legacy, and I wont live long I   Whit. Yes, Sir, it is mine.   [Sighs.
promise you.          [Knocking at the door.  WTid. Death and powder! what do you sigh
Tho. Here are the undertakers already. [Exit. for 2 Are you ashamed, or sorry, for your handyWhit. What shall I do? my head can't bear it; works.
I will hang myself for fear of being run through    Whit. Partly one, partly t'other.
the body.                                      Wid. Will you be plased, Sir, to rade it aloud,
that you may know it again when you hare it.
e   Re-enter ToMAs, zwith bills.      Whit. [Takes the letter and reads.] " MaTho. Half a score people I never saw before, dam" —
with these bills and drafts upon you for payment,   Wid. Would you be plased to let us know what
signed Martha Brady.                        Madam you mean  for woman of quality, and
Whit. I wish Martha Brady was at the bottom  woman of no quality, \and woman of all qualities,
of the Thames! what an impudent extravagant are so mixed together, that you don't know one
baggage, to begin her tricks already! Send them  from t'other, and all are called madams; you
o the devil, and say I wont pay a farthing.  should always read the superscription before you
Tho. You'll have another mob about the door. open the letter.
[ Going.   Whit. I beg your pardon, Sir. —-I don't like




SCRNE I.                      THE IRISH WIDOW.                                     618
this ceremony. [Aside.] " To Mrs. Brady, in birds in hand is worth one in the bushes, Mr.
Pall-mall."                                  Whittol-come, Sir.
rWid. Now prosade-fire and powder, but I   Whit. But I have not settled my matters.
would                                          Wid. O, we'll settle them in a trice, I warrant
Whit. Sir, what's the matter?            you.               [Puts herself in a position.
Wid. Nothing at all, Sir; pray go on.        Whit. But I don't understand the sword; I
Whit. " Madam,-As I prefer your happiness had rather fight with pistols.
to the indulgence of my own passions"          Wid. I am very happy it is in my power to
Wid. I will not prefer your happiness to the oblige you; there, Sir, take your choice; I will
indulgence of my passions-Mr. Whittol, rade on. plase you if I can.         [ Offers pistols.
Whit. "I must confess thatIam unworthy of    Whit. Out of the pan into the fire! there's no
your charms and virtues."                    putting him off; if I had chosen poison, I dare
Wid. Very unworthy indeed; rade on, Sir.   swear he had arsenic in his pocket. [Aside.]
Whit. " I have, for some days, had a severe Look ye, young gentleman, I am an old man, and
struggle between my justice and my passion"-  you'll get no credit by killing me; but I have a
Wid. I have had no struggle at all: my justice nephew as young as yourself, and you'll get more
and passion are agreed.                      honour in facing him.
Whit. " Theformer has prevailed, and Ibeg    Wid. Ay, and more pleasure too-I expect
leave to resign you, with all your accomplish- ample satisfaction from him, after I have done
ments, to some more deserving, though not more vour business; prepare, Sir.
admiring servant, than your miserable and de-   Whit. What the devil; wont one serve your
voted,                THOMAS WHITTLE."  turn? I can't fight, and I wont fight; I'll do any
TWid. And miserable and devoted you shall be thing rather than fight; I'll marry your sister;
— to the postscript: rade on.                my nephew shall marry her; I'll give him all my
Whit. " Postscript:-let me have your pity, fortune; what would the fellow have? Here, nebut not your anger."                         phew!        Thomas!  murder!  murder!
Wid. In answer to this love epistle, [Snatches                [Heflies, and she pursues.
the letter.] you pitiful fellow, my sister presents
you with her tinderest wishes, and assures you        Enter BATES and NEPHEW
that you have, as you desire, her pity, and she   Nep. What's the matter, uncle?
generously throws her contempt too into the bar-   Wh7it. Murder, that's all; that ruffian there
gain.   [ Tears the letter. and throws it at him. would kill me, and eat me afterwards.
Whit. I'm infinitely obliged to her.         Nep. I'll find a way to cool him! come out, Sir,
Wid. I must beg lave in the name of all our I am as mad as yourself; I'll match you, I warfamily to present the same to you.           rant you.
Whit. I am ditto to all the family.          WUid. I'll follow you ail the world over.
Wid. But as a brache of promise to any of our   Whit. Stay, stay, nephew, you sha'n't fight;
family was never suffered without a brache into we shall be exposed all over the town, and you
somebody's body, I have fixed upon myself to be may lose your life, and I shall be cursed from
your operator; and I believe that you will find morning till night; do, nephew, make yourself
that I have as fine a hand at this work, and will and me happy; be the olive-branch, and bring
give you as little pain, as any in the three king- peace into my family; return to the widow; I
doms.    [Sits down and looses her knee-bands. will give you my consent, and your fortune, and
Whit. For Heaven's sake, captain, what are a fortune for the widow, five thousand pounds!
you about?                                  Do persuade him, Mr. Bates.
Wid. I always loosen my garters for the ad-   Bates. Do, Sir; this is a very critical point of
vantage of lunging; it is for your sake as well as your life; I know you love her;'tis the only memy own, for I will be twice through your body, thod to restore us all to our senses.
Defore you shall feel me once.                 Nep. I must talk in private first with this hot
Whit. What a terrible fellow it is! I wish young gentleman.
Thomas would come in.                [Aside.   Wid. As private as you plase, Sir.
VWid. Come, Sir, prepare yourself; you are not   Whit. Take their weapons away, Mr. Bates;
the first, by half a score, that I- have run through and do you follow me to my study, to witness my
and through the heart, before they knew what proposal; it is all ready, and only wants signwas the matter with them.                    ing; come along, come along.          [Exit.
Whit. But, captain, suppose I will marry your   Bates. Victoria! victoria! give me your swords
sister 1                                     and pistols; and now do your worst, you spirited,
Wid. I have not the laste objection, if you re- loving, young couple; I could leap out of my
cover of your wounds.  Callaghan O'Connor skin!                                    [Exit.
lives very happy with my great aunt, Mrs. De-   Nep. 0 my charming widow; what a day
borah O'Neale, in the county of Gallway; ex- have we gone through!
cept a small asthma he got by my running him    Wid. I would go through ten times as much
through the lungs, at the Currough: he would to deceive an old, amorous spark, like your uncle,
have forsaken her, if I had not stopped his perfidy to purchase a young one, like his nephew.
by a famous family styptic I have here: 0, ho!   Nep. I listened at the door all this last scene; my
my little old boy, but you shall get it.  [Draws. heart was agitated with ten thousand fears; supWhit. What shall I do — well, Sir, if 1 must, pose my uncle had been stout, and drawn his sword
I must; I'll meet you to-morrow morning in    Wid. I should have run away as he did; when
Hyde-Park, let the consequence be what it will.  two cowards meet, the struggle is who shall run
Wid. For fear you might forget that favour, first; and sure I can beat an old man at any thing.
I must beg to be indulged with a little pushing   Nep. Permit me thus to seal my happiness.
now; I have set my heart upon it; and two                                     [Kisses her.,52




.614                        T H E  IRIS-H  W  I-D OW.                           [Ac,  T.
Enter WHITTLI, and BATES; WHITTLE states.   Tho. Into happiness. You have. been foollsn
Bates. Confusion!                 [Aside. a long while, turn about and be wise; hehas got
Whit. [Turning to BATES.] Hey-I;vVi I In) thewoman and hisestate,.give them your blessing,
afraid his head is not right yet! he was kInelillg which is not worth much, and live like a Christian
and kissing the captain's hand.              for the future.
Bates. Take no notice, all will come about.  Whit. I will, if I can: but I can't look at'em- [Aside. I can't bear the sound of my voice, nor the sight
Wid. I find, Mr. Whittol, your -family- loves of my own face; look ye, I am distressed and diskissing better than fighting; he swears, I am as tracted! and can't come to yet; I will be reconlike my sister as two pigeons.               ciled if possible; but don't let me see or hear fronm
Enter SIR PATRICK O'NEALE.           you, if you would have me forget and forgive you
-I shall never lift up my head again!
Sir P. I hope, Mr. Whizzle, you'll excuse my    Wid. I hope, Sir Patrick, that my preferring the
coming back to give you an answer, without hav- nephew to the uncle will meet with your approing any to give; I hear a grate dale of news about bation?
myself, and came to know if it be true; they say    Sir P. You are out of my hands, Pat, so if
my son is in London, when he tells me himself, you wont trouble me with your afflictions, I shall.,by letter here, that he's at Limerick; and I have sincerely rejoice at your felicity.
been with my daughter to tell her the news, but   Nep. It would be.a great abatement of my preshe would not stay at home to receive it, so I am  sent joy, could I believe that this lady should be
come-O gramachree! my little din ousil craw, assisted in her happiness, or be supported in her
what have we got here; a piece of mummery! afflictions, by any one but her lover and husband.
here is my son and daughter too, fait; what are    Sir P. Fine notions are fine tings, but a fine
you warihg the breeches, Pat, to see how they estate gives evey ting but ideas, and them too, if
become you when you are Mrs. Weezel?        you'll appale to those who help you to spend itW7id. I beg your pardon for that, Sir! I wear what say you, widow?
them before marriage, because I think they be-   Wid. By your and their persuasion I will tell
come a woman better than after.              my mind to this good company; and for fear my
Whit. What, is not this your sonu [Astonished. words should want ideas too, I will add an Irish
Sir P. No, but it is my daughter, and that is tune, that may carry off a bad voice, and bad matter.
the same thing.                                A widow bewitch'd with her passion,
4Wid. And your niece, Sir, which is better    Though Irish is now quite asham'd
than either.                                   To think that she's -so out of fashion
Whit. Mighty well! and I suppose you have      To marry and then to be tamed.
not lost your wits, young man'Tis ovethe dear?y,
Nep. I sympathize with you, Sir; we lost'em       That oldrfashion'd boy
together, and found'em at the same time.      Has got in my breast with his quiver;
Whit. Here's villany! Mr. Bates, give me the     The blind urchin he
Hpaper; not a farthing shall they have till the law  Struck the cush la maw cree
gives it'em.                                  And a husband secures me for ever!
Bates. We'll cheat the law, and give it them   Ye, fair ot es, I      hope, will excuse,
now.               [Gives NEPHEW the paper-.     Though vulgar, pray do not abuse me.
Tnhit. He may take his own, but he sha'n't     I cannot become a find lady,:have a sixpence of the five thousand pounds I    O love has bewitch'd widow Brady.
promised him.
Bates. Witness, good folks, he owns to the   Ye critics, to murder so willing,
promise.                                         Pray see all our errors with blindness
Sir P. Fait, I'll witness dat, or any thing else   For once change your method of killing
in a good cause.                                 And kill a fond widow with kindness;
in a                                                 iood cause.
Whit. What, am I choused again?                   If you look so severe,
Bates. Why, should not my friend be choused        In a fit of despar,
out of a little justice for the first time? Your   Again will I draw forth my steel, Sis;
You know I've the art,
hard usage has sharpened your nephew's wits;
To be twice through your heart,
therefore, beware, don't play with edge-tools,       To be twice through your heart
therefore, beware,  fingr         eBefore I can once make you feel, Sirs.
you'll only cut your fingers.
Sir P. And your trote too, which is all one,       her soldiers, I hope you'll protect 
Nor let cruel critics dissect me;
therefore, to make all asy, marry my daughter
first, and then quarrel with her afterwards; that  To favour my cause be but rady,
will be in the natural course of things.         And grateful you'll find widow Bray
Whit. Here, Thomas! where are you?         To all that I see here before me,
The bottom, the top, and the middle
For music we now must implore ye,
Hereare finedoings! I am deceived, tricked, and  No wedding without pipe and fiddle
cheated!                                            If all are in tune,
Tho. I wish you joy,. Sir; the best thing that     Pray let it be soon,
could. have happened to you; and as a faithful   My heart in my bosom is prancing!
servant I have done my best to check you.             If your hands should unite,
Whit. To check me!                                 To give us delight,
Tho. You were.galloping fullspeed, and down hill   0. that.'s the best piping anud dancing t
too, and if we had not laid hold of the bridle, being  Your plaudits to me are a treasure,
a bad jockey, you would have hung by your horns    Your smiles are a dow'r for as lad,
in the stirrup, to the great joy of the whole town.  0, joy to you all in full measure,
Whit. What, have you helped to trick me?        So wishes, and prays, widow Brady.




ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM:
A TR AGEDY7
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY GEORGE LILLO.
REMARKS.
Ws have before alluded to this Play, (in our remarks on the Author's Tragedy of Fatal Curiosit, j as founded
en a well-known domestic trouble, recorded by Hollinshed, in his chronicle; and by Jacob, in his History of.
Feversham.-In 1592, a tragedy under the same title was published, by an anonymous writer; and i n 1770 was
reprinted by Edward Jacob, with an absurd preface, imputing it to Shakspeare. From this, Mr. Lillo formed
the present tragedy, which he is said to have left unfinished to the care of Dr. John Hoadley, by whom it was
compnleted.
With some alteration, this piece might be well adapted for modern representation; it is pathetic and interest.
ing, with many well-written passages. The last act in particular, with the death of Arden by the villany of
Mosby, and the despair of Alicia, is not only deeply affecting, but is a sad proof of the folly and danger of the
slightest acquaintance or association with the depraved. In 1790, Mr. Holman produced this tragedy, with
alterations, for his benefit.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
DRURY LANE.
THE MAYOR OF FEVERSHAM.................     Mr. Burton.
ARDEN, a Gentleman of Fevezsham,..........      Mr. Havard.
FRANKLIN, his Friend........................... Mr. Scrase.
MICHAEL, Arden's Servant....................... Mr. Wignell.
GREEN,................................. Mr. Packer.
MOSBY.......................................Mr. Bransby.
BRADSHAW......r. Johnston.
BLACK WILL,          Ruffians.                 Mr. Phillips.
GEORGE SHAKEBAG,                               Mr. Vaughan.
ADAM FOWL, an Innkeeeper.
OFFICERS, &C.
A SERVANT to Arden.
ALICIA, Wife to Arden,...............         A young Gentlewoman.
MARIA, Sister to Mosby,.......                  Miss Barton.
SCENE.-Feversham in Kent.
ACT I.                       And laugh at all to come.-For other instruments,                           [suit
SCENE 1.-The Street before ARDEN'S door.  There's Green: he bears him hard about this
MosBY alone.                   For th' abbev-lands, to which the hot youth
pleads                       [fav'rite;
Mos. The morning's dark, and horrid as my Some  fancied  right.-Michael, the trenche.rpurpose.                               A bastard, bred of Arden's charity:
Thrice have my snare's been laid for Arden's life, He has been privy to our secret joys,
And thrice has he escap'd. —I am not safe:      And, on that trust presuming, loves my sister
The living may revenue.-Oh! could I win        Winks at adultery, and may at murder
Alicia to conspire her husband's fall,          Maria is his price.  I've plac'd her here,
Then might I say, security, thou'rt mine,       Companion of my sweet Alicia's hours,
615




616                     ARDEN OF FEVERSIIAM.                                   [ACT 1,
To spread her charms for ever in his eye:    O Arden, blend compassion with your rage,
To her are all my visits. But-Alicia-        And kindly kill me first.
She must, she shall comply: when to my arms    Ard. Not for my sake
Her honour she resign'd, her fond reluctance Are all thy tears (then had you felt them sooner
whisper'd,                          Plead not the ruin you have made; but say
She could deny me nothing. [Exit into ARDEN'S. Why have you driven me to thew extremes?
Why sacrific'd my peace, and your own fame.
SCENE II.-A  Chamber.              By corresponding with a menial slave?
Alic. Thou can'st not think, that I have
Enter ARDEN, in hs nht gown.                   wrong'd thy bed 
Ard. Unhappy Arden, whither canst thou   Ard. Would, I could not!
wander                                 Alic. By Heavens!
To lay thy heavy load of sorrows down!         Ard. No perj uries.
Will change of place relieve th' afflicted mind;   But now, as you lay slumbering by my side,
Or does all nature yield a balm to cure      I still awake, anxious, and full of thought,
The pangs of slighted love and broken faith?  (For thou hast banish'd sleep from  these sad
Ungrateful, false Alicia! false with Mosby,          eyes,)
The vile dependent of my foe profess'd,      With gentle accents, thrilling with desire,
Lord Clifford's full-fed flatterer!-        You call'd on Mosby: love made me doubt my
Come, Franklin, come: Arden, thy friend, in-         ears,
vites thee;                         And question if the dark and silent night
And let me pour my griefs into thy bosom,    Conspir'd not with my fancy to deceive me:
And find in friendship what I've lost in love.    But soon I lost the painful, pleasing hope;
Again you call'd upon your minion iMosby.
Confirm'd, I strove to fly your tainted bed,
Alic. Why, Arden, do you leave your bed thus But, wanting strength, sunk lifeless on my pillow.
early?                             You threw your eager arms about my neck,
Have cold and darkness greater charms than I?  You press'd my bloodless cheeks with your warm
There was a time when winter nights were short,     lips,
And Arden chid the morn that call'd him from  Which glow'd, adulterous! with infernal heat;
me.                                  And call'd a third time on the villain Mosby,
Ard. This deep dissembling, this hypocrisy,  Alic. A dream, indeed, if I e'er call'd on him.
(The last worst state of a degenerate mind)    Ard. Thy guilty dreams betray thy waking
Speaks her in vice determin'd and mature.           thoughts.
[Aside.   Alic. I know I'm simple, thoughtless, and unAlic. What maid, that knows man's variable         guarded;
nature,                             And what is carelessness, you construe guilt.
Would sell her free estate for marriage bonds?   Yet were I weak as those fantastic visions,
From vows and oaths, and every servile tie,  Sure I could never have condemn'd you, Arden,
The tyrant man at pleasure is set free;      On circumstances and an idle dream.
The holy nuptial bond leaves him at large;     Ard. But such a dream.Yet vests him with a power that makes us slaves.-    Alic. Yet was it but a dream,
Ard. To stop my just reproach,             Which, though I not remember, I abhor:
Art thou the first to tax the marriage state?  And mourn with tears, because it gives you pain.
Alic. Are you not jealous? do you not give ear Arden, you do not wish me innocent,
To vain surmises and malicious tongues,      Or on suspicions could you doom me guilty?
That hourly wound my yet untainted fame?      Ard. Not wish  thee innocent! do sinking
Ard. And wouldst thou make me author of            mariners,
the shame                           When struggling with the raging seas for life,
Thy guilt has brought on us!-I'll bear no longer. Wish the assistance of some friendly plank?
The traitor, Mosby: curs'd. detested, Mosby,'Tis that, and that alone, can bring me comfort.
Shall render an account for both your crimes.  Alic. 0 jealousy! thou fierce, remorseless fiend,
Alic. What do I hear?            [Aside. Degenerate, most unnatural, child of love;
Ard. That base, mechanic slave            How shall I chase thee from my Arden's bosom.
Shall answer with his blood.                  Ard. There is a way, an easy way, Alicia.Alic. 0 hear me speak.                      Alic. 0 name it-speak.
Ard. No, I am deaf: as thou hast ever been   Ard. What's past may be forgotten.
To fame, to virtue, and my just complaints.  Your future conduct.Alic. Thus on my knees-                     Alic. You distract me, Arden.
Ard. Adulteress! dost thou kneel,    [heart Say, how shall I convince you of the truth?
And weep, and pray, and bend thy stubborn    Ard. I ask but this: never see Mosby more.
(Stubborn to me) to sue for him?-Away,      By Heaven, she's dumb!
Away this instant, lest I kill thee too.       Alic. 0 how shall I conceal
[Recovers himse:f  My own confusion, and elude his rage? [Aside.
No-Not the hell thou'st kindled in this bosom  Ard. Thou'rt lost, Alicia!-lost to me-and
Shall make me shed thy blood.                        Heaven.
Alic. I do not hope it.                      Alic. Indeed I'm lost, if you unkindly doubt
Ard. For me, be as immortal as thy shame.          me.
Alic. I see your cruel purpose: I must live,  Ard. Wilt thou then ne'er converse with
To see your hand and honour stain'd with blood.      Mosby more?
Your ample fortune seiz'd on by the state,     Alic. If e'er I do, may Heaven, and you forYour life a forfeit to the cruel laws.               sake me!




SCENE III.]               ARD:EN OF FEVERSIHAM.                                   617
Ard. You'll keep your word, Alicia! —Pr'ythee, But he has found the fraud-the slumbering lion
say.                               At length has rous'd himselfAlic. You'll break my heart.               IMos. And I must fall
Ard. I'd rather break my own.              The victim.
Then thou art innocent, and lov'st me still.   Alic. No, he knows not yet his wrongs.
Alic. And ever will.                         Mos. But quickly will.
Ard. Give me thy hand-thy heart,            Alic. That, that's my greatest fear.
0 give me that!                               4Mos. Then, branded with a strumpet's hated
Alic. That always was your own.                    name.
Ard. Thou flatterer-then whence this cruel The cause abhorr'd of shame, of blood, and ruin,
strife?                            Thou'lt be exposed and hooted through the world.
Still art thou cold: nor warm are thy embraces,    Alic. 0 hide the dreadful image from my view!
Nor sparkle in thine eyes the fires of love:  Chaste matrons, modest maids,and virtuous wives,
Cold, cold, and comfortless.                Scorning a weakness which they never knew,
Alic. Indeed, you fright me.              Shall blush with indignation at my name.
Ard.'Tis possible.                        4Mos. My death-but that-though certainAlic. What?                                 Alic. Labour not
Ard. That thou may'st yet deceive me.     To drive me to despair. Fain would I hopeAlic. O! I am wretched!                     Mos. You may-and be deceiv'd. For me, I
Ard. Both perhaps are so.                          know
But if thou ever lov'dst, thou'lt not despise me,   My fate resolv'd-and thee the instrument;
And wilt forgive me, if indeed I've wrong'd thee, The willing instrument of Mosby's ruin.
As I've forgiven thee-Pity, I'm sure, I need.   Inconstant, false Alicia!
[Exit.   Alic. False, indeed;
Alic. Thou hast it, Arden, even from her that But not to thee, cruel, injurious Mosby!
wrongs thee.                          AIos. Injurious!-False one! might not all
All, all shall pity thee, and curse Alicia.         these dangers,
Can I feel this, and farther tempt the stream  That threaten to involve us both in ruin,
Of guilty love! 0, whither am I fallen!     Ere this have been prevented? 
Enter MARIA.                   Alic. Ha!-say on.
Mar. A happy day, Alicia —and may each   Mos. And, not preventing, art thou not the
Mar. A happy day, Alici —and may each  cause 
morn                                  Alic. Ah! whither, Mlosby-whither wouldst
Of coming life be usher'd with like joy.            thou drive me? 
Franklin, from court return'd, has brought the  os. Nay, didst thou love, or wouldst secure
gMos. Nay, didst thou love, or wouldst secure
grant                                       thy fame,
Of tne abbey-lands confirm'd by the young king, Preserve my life, and bind me yours for ever,
To Arden, for his life; nor will deliver'Tis yet within your power.But to himself the deed.ic. By Arden's death 
Alic. A worthy friend?                 Alic. By Arden's death!
Alic.The grant worth elcome to my friehusband   Mean'st thou not so? speak out, and be a devil.
Than Franklin's company.                       Mlos. Yes,'tis for thee I am so-But your looks
an'rankln's cflow n to meet him   Declare, my death would please you better, Ma7Var. He's flown to meet him.  [Exeunt.           dam.
dam.
Alic. Exaggerating fiend! be dumb for ever.
SCENE I1.-A Parlour in ARDEN'S House.  His death! I must not cast a glance that way.
Enter ALICIA, meeting MOSBY.           Mos. Is there another way?-O think, Alicia.
Alic. Mosby, that brow befits our wayward fate.   Alic. I will, for that will make me mad: and
The evil hour, long fear'd, is fallen upon us,       madness
And we shall sink beneath it. Do not frown-  Were some excuse. Come, kind distraction! come,
If you're unkind, to whom shall I complain 1 And Arden dies-my husband dies, for Mosby.
Mos. Madam, it was my sister I expected-                   [Shrieks, and runs to MOSBY.
Alic. Am I forgotten then? Ungrateful man        Enter ARDE
This only could have added to my woes.
Did you but know what I have borne for you,   He's here! 0 save me! tell me, did he hear?
You would not thus, unmov'd, behold my tears.    Ard. [Starting;] Franklin, support your friend.
Alos. Madam, you make me vain.                     I shake with horror.
Alic. Insult not, Mosby.                    Frank. What moves you thus?
You were the first dear object of my love,    Ard. See-Mosby-with my wife?
And, could my heart have made a second choice,   Mos. But, Madam, I shall spare you farther
I had not been the object of your scorn:             trouble;
But duty, gratitude, the love of fame,      In happy time, behold my neighbour here.
And pride of virtue, were too weak t'erase                     [As taking leave of ALICIA.
The deep impression of your early vows.       Alic. Mischief and wild confusion have begun,
Mos. Therefore you kindly chose to wed another. And desolation waits to close the scene.  [Exit.
Alic. Reproach me not with what I deem'd my   AMos. Sir, I would gladly know, whether your
duty.                                       grant
Oh! had I thought I could assume the name,    Of the rich abbey-lands of Feversham
And never know the affection, of a wife,    Be yet confirm'd or not?
I would have died ere giv'n my hand to Arden.    Ard. What if I tear
AIose. You gave him all.                  Her faithless heart, ev'n in the traitor's sight.
Alic. No, no, I gave him nothing:         Who taught it falsehood.             [Aside
Words without truth-a hand without a heart.    Frank. He is lost in thougnr.
VOL. I....4 I    52*




618                     ARDEN O F FEVERSHAM.                                 [ACT Il
But 1 can answer that: it is confirm'd-     And o'er his groaning slave with rods of iron
I brought the deed, with the great seal annex'd     reigns.                     [Exeunt.
Sign'd by our pious Edward, and his council.                  ACT  I.
Mos. I'm satisfied.Ard. So am not I-By hell,                           SCENE I-The Street.
There's justice in the thought.-I'm  strangely       Enter GREEN and M OSBY.
tempted.                    [Aside.   Geen. You pity me, and know not my estate.
Mos. My friend seems wrapt in thought-I I'm ruin'd, Mosby: thoughtless and ill advis'd,
came to advise him,                 My riotous youth will leave my age a beggar.
That Green, by virtue of a former grant     These abbey-lands were all the hopes I'd left;
His father long enjoy'd-                    My whole support.
Ard. For my estate,                         AIos. Base and ungen'rous Arden,
The law, and this good seal, is my security,;  To force a man born equal to thimself,
To them I leave Green and his groundless claim. To beg, or starve.
But my just right to false Alicia's heart,     Green. By Heaven, I will do neither
(So dearly purchas'd with a husband's name,    I'll let the proud oppressor knowAnd sacred honour of a gentleman,)            Mos. How blind his rage!
I shall assert myself, and thus secure      Who threats his enemy, lends him a sword
From farther violation.            [Draws. To guard himself.Mos. Her known virtue                       Green. Robb'd of the means of life,
Renders the injury, your fancy forms,       What's life itself? a useless load, a curse:
A thing of air.                             Which yet I'll dearly sell to my revenge.
Frank. Impossible to thought.               Mos. You mean to kill him, then. [Eagerly,
Whence, Arden, comes this sudden madness on   G~reen. I do, by Heaven.
thee,                                 Mtos. Suppose you failThat your Alicia, ever dear esteem'd,         Green. I can but lose my life.     [secure,
And deeply lov'd-                             Mos. Then where is your revenge, when he,
Ard. Out on the vile adult'ress!         Riots unbounded in his ill-got wealth!
But thou, demure, insinuating slave,          Green. What can I do?
Shalt taste my vengeance first. Defend thyself.   Mos.'Tis plain, you wish him dead.
Mos. I scorn to take advantage of your rage.  Green. Each moment of his life is to my soul
Ard. A coward too! 0 my consummate shame! A tedious age of pain; for, while he lives,
Mos. This I can bear from you.            Contempt, and all the ills a lazar knows,
Ard. Or any man.                          Must be my wretched lot, and lengthen out
Why hangs that useless weapon by thy side,    The miserable hours. What groveling wretch
Thou shame to manhood'-Draw. —Will no-. Would wish to hold his life on such conditions?
thing move thee?      [Strikes him.   Mos. But change the scene: suppose but ArFrank. Hold. Whither would your mad re-           den dead,
venge transport you  Your land restor'd, and fortune in your power;
Ard. Shall shameful cowardice protect a villain? Honour, respect, and all the dear delights
Mos. You choose a proper place to show your That wait on wealth, shall wing the joyful hours,
courage!                            And life contracted seem one happy day.
Ard. Go on. I'll follow to the ocean's brink,  I hate this Arden, and have stronger motives
Or to the edge of some dread precipice,     Than any you can urge to wish his death:
Where terror and despair shall stop thy flight,   He has accus'd, insulted; struck me;
And force thy trembling hand to guard thy life.  Nay, his fair, virtuous wife, on my accountMos. What I endure, to save a lady's honour!   Green. If fame speaks true, you're to be envied
[To FRANKLIN.          there.
Frank. Your longer stay will but incense him    Mos. The world will talk-But be that as it
more;                                       may;                       [friendsPray, quit the house.                       I want not cause, nor will, nor means, nor
Mos. Sir, I shall take your counsel.   [Exit.   Green. Nor opportunity shall long be wanting.
Ard. He hath escap'd me then.-But, for my   Mos. Enough: his fate is fix'd. See! Bradwife-                                       shaw's here.
Frank. What has she done?
Ard. Done! must I tell my shame?  Enter BRADSHAW.
Away, begone-lest from my prey withheld       Brad. Save, save you, gentlemen.
I turn, and tear th' officious hand that lets me.  Mos. We thank you, neighbour.
Soft! art thou Franklin?  Pardon me, sweet But whither in such haste'
friend;-                              Brad. To the isle of Sheppy,
My spirits fail-I shake-I must retire.      To wait on good Lord Cheyney. As he holds
Frank. To your Alicia..   In high esteem our worthy townsman Arden,
Ard. To my lonely couch;                  I shall first call on him.-'Tis well I met you,
For I must learn to live without her, Franklin,   For yonder two were but bad road-companions.
Frank. Pray, Heaven, forbid!                 Green. They seem of desperate fortunes.
Ard. To hate her, to forget her-if I can;  MAos. Have they names?
No easy task for one who dotes like me.       Brad. One I know not: but judge him from
From what a height I'm  fallen! Once, smiling        his comrade.
love                                The foremost of the two I knew at Boulogne,
Of all its horrors robb'd the blackest night,  Where in the late king's reign I serv'd myself.
And gilt with gladness every ray of light;  He was a corporal then, but such a villainNow, tyrant-like, his conquest he maintains,  Beneath a soldier's name.-A common cut-throat,




SCENE I1.]              ARDEN  OF FEVERSHIAM.                                      619
That preys on all mankind, and knows no party.   Shake. Then, speak out.,}os. A horrid character you give him, Brad- We're honest, Sir.
shaw?                                B. Will. Trusty, and very poor.
Brad. No worse than he deserves.            Mos. Metal too fit for me. [Aside.] Then hear
Mos. rAside.] A useful hint:                       me, Sirs.lHe shall not want employment.-What's his In Feversham there lives a man, call'd Arden;
name.               In general esteem, and ample means;
Brad. Black Will. His family-name I never And has a wife, the very pride of nature.
heard.                              I have been happy long in her affections, [tunes.
Mos. [ To GREEN.] A word-write you a letter And, he, once dead, might with her share his forto Alicia:                      [it. Ie's jealous too of late, and threatens me.
Disguise your hand.-This honest fool may bear Love, int'rest, self-defence, all, ask his death.Hint at these men.-In case her courage fail,   B. Will. This man you'd have dispatched?
She will be glad to shift the deed on them.  DMos. I would.
B. Will. Rich, you say?
Enter BLACK WILL and SHAKEBAG.           1Mos. Immensely so.
B. Will. What, comrade Bradshaw! How fare   B. Will. And much beloved 
you, man. S'blood! dost not remember honest   Alos. By all degrees of men.     [of work.
Black Will?  Why, thou'rt grown purse proud,   B. WTill.'George! this will be a dangerous piece
sure.                                          Shake. Very dangerous. A man so known;
Brad. Why, you're not easily forgotten, Will. and of his reputation too.
But, pr'ythee, what brings thee to Feversham.  B. Will. And then the power and number of
B. Will. A soldier, you know, is at home his friends must be considered.        [Sirs?
wherever he comes. Omne solumrn forti patria. A Mos. What! does your courage shrink already,
There's Latin-Give's a taster.                 Shake. No.
Brad. In time of peace we should apply to   B. Will. This is ever the curse of your men of
some honest creditable business, and not turn the true valourn to be the tools of crafty cowardly
name of soldier into vagabond.               knaves, who have not the heart to execute what
B. Will. Yes, as you have done. I'm told, you their heads have projected. It is a sad ungrateful
keep a goldsmith's shop here in Feversham; and, world.-What money have you more about you?
like a mechanical rogue, live by cheating. I have   Mos. Ten pieces.
more honour.                                   B. Will. I've had as much for stealing a dog.
Brad. Would thou had'st honesty.            _Mos. I give you that as a retaining fee:
B. Will. Where do our honesties differ? I take When the deed's done, each shall have twice that
a purse behind a hedge, and you behind a counter.    sum,
Brad. Insolent slave!                     And a good horse to further his escape.
B. Will. You cent. per cent. rascal! I may   B. Will. Sir, will you have him murdered in a
find a time to teach you better manners.             church?
Brad. Go, mend thy own.                      Shake. Or on the altar; say the word, and it
B. Will. Thou wert always a sneaking fellow,       shall be done.
Bradshaw, and couldst never swear, nor get drunk.   Mos. Some safer place, the street, highway, or
Come, shall I and my comrade Shakebag taste         fields,
your ale?                                  Will serve my turn as well.
Brad. My house entertains no such guests.   Shake. Just as you please.
Farewell, gentlemen.                          Mos. Where may I find you, gentlemen?
Mos. Along with Bradshaw,                   B. Will. At Adam Fowl's, the Flower-de-luce,
And leave the management of these to me.      Alos. I have confederates in this design;
[Aside to GREEN. When we have contriv'd the manner of his death,
Green. It shall be done.-Bradshaw, a word I'll send you word.
with thee.                                    B. Will. You'll find us always ready.
Brad. Your pardon, gentlemen.               Mos. And determined?
[Exeunt GREEN and BRAD.   B. Will. Ay, fear it not. Farewell. [Exeunt
B. Will. He was a cadet in the last French
war, like other soldiers then; but now he has got    SCENE II.-A Room in ARDEN'S House.
a nest, and feathered it a little, he pretends to re-  Enter ALICIA, with a letter.
putation. S'blood! had this been a fit place, he.  e
Alic. He doubts me; yet he dares not tell me so,
had not'scaped me so. You have surveyed us But thus, by Green, whets my unsettled mind.
well. [To MosBy.] How do you like us?                                            [Reads.
Mlos. lethink's, I read truth, prudence, secrecy, "Strike home, or not at all. In case youfail,
And courage, writ upon your manly brows.     We have foud instruments, by means of BradB. Will. What villany has this fellow in hand,                                   a
that makes him fawn upon  u   s      - A    He shall'not find me undetermin'd now. [shaw."
that makes him fawn upon us          [Aside.'s on the watcheps,
Mos. I fear the world's a stranger to your merit. Hark! Michael's on the watch.-If Arden sleeps,
Mos. I fear th e worlds   a strangerme to your   meri t.endship  (For so he seem'd dispos'd,) he'll bring me word.
If this may recommend me to your friendship- That, that's the safest time. This promis'd mar[Gives a purse.        riage
B. Will. Of what dark deed is this to be the With Mosby's siste r has re
wages?2                      [cutq With Mosby's sister has remov'd his qualms.
wages?                       [cut?.
Shake. Hast ever an elder brother's throat to
B. Will. Or an old peevish father to be buried? Why dost thou break upon me unawares?
Mos. Neither of these.                     What of your master?
Shake. A rival, then, mayhap-               M/ich. He's scarce sunk to rest,
Mos. There you come nearer to me,         But full of meditated rage'gainst Mosby.




620                     ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM.                                   [ACT III.
Alic. He'll sleep in peace, ere long. —    I rush upon thee, and deface those charms,
Mich. Think not on that.                   That first enslav'd my soul; mangle that face,
0, did Maria bless me with her smiles,       Where, spite of falsehood, beauty triumphs still;
As you do Mosby, had I twenty lives,         Mar that fair frame, and crush thee into atoms.
I'd risk'em all to win her to my arms.      Avoid me, and be safe-Nay, now you drive me
Alic. I pr'ythee leave me, Michael.                hence. [ALICIA kneels, he turns away.
[Exit MICHAEL. Cruel and false as thou hast been to me,'What is nature?                            I cannot see thee wring thy suppliant hands,
There is a power in love, subdues to itself  And weep, and kneel in vain. —       I Exit.
All other passions in the human mind.  [derer,   Alic. This, this is he
This wretch, more fearful than the lonely mur- I came prepar'd to murder. Curs'd Alicia!
Whom with inquiring eyes some stranger views, In thy own bosom plunge the fatal steel,
Would meet the king of terrors undismay'd,   Or his, who robb'd thee of thy fame and virtue.For her he loves, and dare him to the combat.   It will not be-fear holds my dastard hand:
And shall not I preserve my Mosby's life,    Those chaster powers that guard the nuptial bed
And shall not I?-A husband!-What's a hus- From foul pollution, and the hand from blood,
band?                              Have left their charge, and I am lost for ever.
I have a soul above th' unnatural tie,                                            [Exit.
That tells me, I'm his right, and only his,                  ACT III.
Who won my virgin heart. —Ye tender parents,
Whose cruel kindness made your child thus
wretched,                   [scene;  Enter BLACK WILL, SHAKEBAG, and GREEN.
Turn not your eyes toward earth to view this   Green. Well, is Arden, at last, despatched.
Twill make you sad in heaven.        [Exit.   Shake. Yes, safe to Feversham.
Green. Safe, say you! his good fortune mocks
SCENE III. —Another Room.                    us all.
ARDEN sleeping on a couch.-Enter AL]CIA,   His strange escape has almost stagger'd me;
with a dagger in her hand.         But, thinking of my wrongs, I'm more confirm'd.
B. Will. Well said, my man of resolution! A
Alic. See!-Jealousy, o'erwatch'd, is sunk to rest, gentleman commits a murder with double the saWhile fearful guilt knows no security,      tisfaction, for such a heart. We must lay our snares
But in repeated crimes. My weary eyes,      more cunning for the future.
Each moment apprehensive of his vengeance,     Green. We should consult with Michael, ArMust seek for rest in vain'till his are clos'd.     den's manThen for our mutual peace, and Mosby's love-   The pigmy-hearted wretch, though long ago
[Approaching to stab him, starts. He swore his master dead, acts with reluctance.
He wakes-defend me from his just revenge!      Shake. The coward must be spurred.-He does
And yet he sees me not, nor moves a finger  it, or he dies.
To save his threaten'd life. Then whence that   Green. I wonder at his absence.-As he knew
voice,                              Of our attempt, and promis'd to be here.
That pierc'd my ears, and cried, Alicia hold!              Enter MICAEL.
Can mimic fancy cheat the outward sense,                   Enter MICHAEL.
And form such sounds?  If these heart-racking   Plich. I saw my master and Lord Cheyney pass,
thoughts                            And my heart leap'd for joy.         [Apart.
Precede the horrid act, what must ensue?       B. Will. What says the villain 
Worse plague I cannot fear from Arden's death,  _Mich. Would I were gone. [Aside.] Sir, if I
But from his life-the death of him I love.  give offence-                       [Going.
Perish the hated husband-Wherefore hated?      Green. Michael, come back; you must not
Is he not all that my vain sex could wish?  leave us so 1
My eyes, while they survey his graceful form,  -Mich. What is your pleasure 1
Condemn my heart, and wonder how it stray'd.    Green. Why, we understand
He sighs-he starts-he groans. His body sleeps, You are in love with Mosby's beauteous sister.
But restless grief denies his mind repose.    MIich. Suppose I am.
Perhaps he dreams of me; perhaps he sees me,    B. HWill. You deal too mildly with the peasant.
Thus, like a fury broke from deepest hell,  You swore to kill your master, villain. Be an hoLust in my heart, and murder in my hand, —   nest man of your word, and do it then, white liver!
[Site drops the dagger, ARDEN starts up.   Mklich. Sir, I repented.
Ard. Her dagger, Michael-seize it, and I'm    B. Will. Repented! What's that? Dog, know
safe.                               your rank, and act as we command, or your heart's
How strong she is!-Oh!-what a fearful dream, bloodBefore me still! speak, vision-art thou Alicia,    Mich. What must I do?     [Frighted.
Or but the coinage of my troubled brain?     B. Will. Do! you must show us the house, apAlic. 0 Arden-husband-lord-               point the time and place, and lure your master
Ard. Art thou my wife?                   thither-We'll take care of him without your
Thou'rt substance-I'm  wrapp'd in wonder- trouble.
hence-                                Green. So shall you purchase noble Mosby's
Hast lost all sense of fear, as well as shame,       friendship,
That thou durst haunt me thus,asleep and waking, And, by his friendship, gain his sister's love.
Thou idol, and thou torment of my soul.       MIich. They'll murder me too, should I not
Alic. My bleeding heart-                           comply-                     [Aside.
Ard. Away, begone, and leave me:            Green. Think on your love, your interest.
Lest. in the transports of unbounded rage,    B. Will. Or your death.




SCENE II.]              ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM                                        621
Mich. To-night, soon as the abbey-clock strikes   Alic. Their harvest else will be to both our
ten,                   [ Trembling.         shames.
Come to his house: I'll leave the doors unbarr'd: Hast thou not made a monster of me, Mosby?
The left-hand stairs lead to my master's chamber; You should abhor me, I abhor myself.
There take him, and dispose him as you please.  When unperceiv'd I stole on Arden's sleep,
Green. This cannot fail.                   (Hell steel'd my heart, and death was in my hand,)
Shake. Unless this love-sick coward thinks to Pale anguish brooded on his ashy cheek,
deceive us.                          And chilly sweats stood shivering on his brow.
Mich. I will not, by Heaven!              Relentless murder, at a sight so sad,
B. Will. I believe thee; for, by hell, thou  Gave place to pity; and, as he wak'd, I stood
darest not.               [Exeunt. Irresolute, and drown'd in tears.
4Vich. Master, thy constant love and daily    Mos. She's lost.
bounty                               And I, in vain, have stain'd my soul with blood.
Deserve more grateful offices from Michael.                                       [Aside.
[Exit, in tears.   Alic. Give o'er, in time: in vain are your attempts
Upon my Arden's life; for Heaven, that wrested
SCENE  UL-A Room in ARDEN'S House.   The fatal weapon from my trembling hand,
ALICIA alone.                Still has him in its charge.
Mos. Little she thinks,
Alic. When vice has spread her poison through  That Arden's dead ere now. —It must be so;
the soul,                           I've but that game to play, ere it be known.
How lifeless, slow, confus'd, and insincere,                                      [Aside.
Are our resolves in the pursuits of virtue!   Alic. I know our dang'rous state; I hesitate;
What wonder, then, Heaven should refuse its aid  I tremble for your life; I dread reproach.
To thoughts, that only blossom for a time;   But we've offended, and must learn to suffer.
Look blooming to the eye, but yield no fruit.  Mos. Then Arden lives in his Alicia bless'd,
Enlter MOSBY.                 And Mosby, wretched. Yet should chance or
Lay Arden gently in a peaceful grave,  [nature
1aIos. I come, Alicia, to partake thy griefs:    Might I presume to hope? Alicia, speak.
For fire, divided, burns with lesser force. [flame   Alic. How shall I look into my secret thoughts,
Alic. I know thee: thou art come to fan the  And answer what I fear to ask myself?
Thy breath hath kindled here, till it consume us.                          [A long pause.
But tears and sighs shall stifle in my heart   Mos. Silence speaks best for me. His death
The guilty passion.                                  once known.
Mos. Is heroic love,                       I must forswear the fact, and give these tools
That form'd the bright examples of thy sex,  To public justice-and not live in fear.  [Aside.
Made their lives glorious, and their fame immortal, Thy heart is mine. I ask but for my own. [To her.
A crime in thee. Art thou not mine by oaths,   Truth, gratitude, and honour, bind you to me,
By mutual sufferings, by contract, mine?    Or else you never lov'd.
Alic. Why do you urge a rash, a fatal, promise,   Alic. Then why this struggle?
I had no right to make, or you to ask?      Not lov'd! 0 had my love been justly plac'd,
Why did you practise on my easy heart?      As sure it was exalted and sincere,
Why did I ever listen to your vows?         I should have gloried in it, and been happy.
In me,'twas foolish guilt and disobedience;  But I'll no longer live the abject slave
In you'twas avarice, insolence, and pride.  Of loose desire-I disclaim the thought
Mos.'Twas love in me, and gratitude in you.    Mos. I'll ask no more what honour should deny;
Alic.'Twas insolence in you, meanness in me, By Heaven, I never will.
And madness in us both. My careful parents,    Alic. Well, then, remember,
In scorn of your presumption and my weakness, On that condition only, I renew
Gave me in marriage to a worthy gentleman,    My vows. If time and the event of things
Of birth and fortune equal to my own.        Should ever make it lawful, I'll be yours.
Three years I liv'd with him without reproach,                           [ Gives her hand.
And made him in that time the happy father     Mos. O, my full joys!
Of two most lovely children. I too was happy;    Alic. Suppress thy frantic transports,
At least, I liv'd in hopes I might be so:    My heart recoils; I am betray'd. —O give me back
For time, and gratiLude, and Arden's love,   My promis'd faith.
I hop'd, might quench my guilty flame for you,  Mos. First, let the world dissolve.
And make my heart a present worthy him.        Alic. There is no joy, nor peace, for you or me.
AlIos. And dost thou glory in thy perjuries?    All our engagements cannot but be fatal.
In love, inconstancy alone's a crime.         Mos. The time may come when you'll have
Think on the ardour of our youthful passion,         other thoughts;
Think how we play'd with love; nor thought it'Till then, farewell.-[Aside.] Now, fortune, do
guilt,                                      thy worst.                    [Exit.
Till thy first falsehood (call it not obedience,)  Alic. Mosby, return: he's gone, and I am
Thy marriage with this Ardenj made me despe-         wretched.
rate;                               I should have banish'd him my sight for ever.
Think on the transports of our love renew'd,    You happy fair ones, whose untainted fame
And-                                  [hear, Has never yet been blasted with reproach,
Alic. Hide the rest, lest list'ning winds should Fly from th' appearance of'dishonour, far.
And publish to the world our shameful tale.  Virtue is arbitrary, nor admits debate:
iHere let remembrance of our follies die.    To doubt, is treason in her rigid court;
IMos. Shall our loves wither in their early bloom, But, if ye parley with the foe, you're lost. [Exit.




622                      AR])EN OF FEVERSHAM.                                 LACT Iv.
SCENE III. —A Room in ARDEN'S HIouse.   What's that?-I heard'em cry, where is this
ARDEN and FRANKLIN sitting together on a           coward?
couch; ARDEN, thoughtful.          Arden once dead, they'll murder me for sport
Frank. Nay, wonder not.-Though every cir-  elp-all the neighboursMaster-Frankin
cumstance                                   help.
Thus strangely met to prove the lady false,    Enter ARDEN and FRANKLIN, undressed.
And justify the husband's horrid vengeance;   Ard. What dismal outcry's this?
Yet it appears to every honest eye,           Frank. What frights thee, Michael?
(Too late for the poor lady,) she was wrong'd.    AlIich. My master!-Franklin!
Ard. Is't possible?                        Ard. Why dost tremble so?
Frank. Ay, very possible:                  M2ich. I dream'd the house was full of thieves
He lives that proves it so. Conceal'd from justice, *and murderers.         [ Trembling.
He pines with ceaseless sorrow for his guilt,  Ard. Dream'd! what, awake! Are all the doors
And each hour bends him lower towards his grave. made fast?
Ard. I know thy friendship, and perceive its drift.   MIich. I think they are.
I'll bear my wrongs-for sure I have been wrong'd.   Ard. I'll go and see myself.   [Exit ARDEN.
Do I but think so, then! What fools are men,  Frank. You made a fearful noise.
Whom love and hatred, anger, hope, and fear,  Mich. Did I?And all the various passions, rule by turns,  Ard. [Within.] Why, Michael!
And in their several turns alike deceive?    Frank. You tremble still.-Has any one been
Frank. To cast away, and on suspicion only, here?
A jewel, like Alicia, were to her            MRich. No, I hope not. My master will be angry,
Unjust, and cruel to yourself. [Clock strikes ten.         Enter ARDEN.
Good night,
G~ood night,                                               Enter ARDEN.
The clock has stricken ten.                   Ard. This negligence not half contents me, Sir
Ard. I thought it more.                   The doors were all left open.
i'rank. I thought it not so much.           Mich. SirArd. Why, thus it is:                       Ard. To bed,
Our happy hours are few, and fly so swift,  And, as you prize my favour, be more careful.
That they are past ere we begin to count'em:  Frank.'Tis very cold. Once more, my friendBut, when with pain and misery oppress'd,     Ard.-Good night.                 [Exeunt.
Anticipating Time's unvarying pace,
We think each heavy moment is an age. [grave,                ACT IV.
Frank. Come, let's to rest. Impartial as the    SCENE I.-An Inn the Flower-de-luce.
Sleep robs the cruel tyrant of his power,E
Gives rest and freedom to the o'erwrought slave,
And steals the wretched beggar from his want.  Mich. Though I with oaths appeal'd to conDroop not, my friend; sleep will suspend thy        scious Heaven,
And time will end them.              [cares, That Arden rose and shut the doors himself.
Ard. True, for time brings death,         Yet, but for Green, these bloody rogues had kill'd
The only certain end of human woes.                 me.
Sleep interrupts, but waking, we're restor'd  We must desist-Franklin and sweet Maria
To all our griefs again. Watching and rest,    Have promis'd, at Alicia's own request,
Alternately succeeding one another,        T'o interfereAre all the idle business of dull life.       Mos. -Such ever be the employ
What shall we call this undetermin'd state,  Of him I hate.
This narrow isthmus'twixt two boundless oceans,  lMich. -The mourning fair, all chang'd,
That whence we came, and that to which we tend? By me conjures you, (and with tears she spake it,)
Is it life, chequer'd with the sleep of death?  Not to involve yourself and her in ruin,
Or death, enliven'd by our waking dreams?  By seeking to renew a correspondence,
But we'll to bed. Here, Michael, bring the lights. She has renounc'd for ever.,    Mos. How! confusion!     [her prayers,
Enter MICHAEL,  ich. And hopes, (as Heaven, in answer to
Heaven send you good repose.                Hath reconcil'd her duty and affection,)
[Gives FRANKLIN a candle. You will approve her resolutionFrank. The like to you.                     Mos. Doubtless!
A/lich. Shall I attend you, Sir             M/lich. And learn, by her example, to subdue
Frank: No, no, I choose to be alone. Good night. Your guilty passion[Exit FRANKLIN.  MICHAEL attends his  MALos. Ha, ha, ha! exquisite woman! [band!
master with the other light, and returns. So! rather than not change, she'll love her hus
Mich. I, who should take my weapon in my But she will not persevere.
hand,                                 MIich. Yes, sure, she will.          [sex,
And guard his life with hazard of my own,     M1/os. Have I then slighted her whole signing
With fraudful smiles have led him, unsuspecting, Bid opportunity and fortune wait;
(Quite to the jaws of death-But I've an oath.    And all, to be forsaken for a husband!
Mosby has bound me with a horrid vow, [death. By Heaven, I am glad he has so oft escap'd,
Which if I break, these dogs have sworn my That I may have him murder'd in her sight.
I've left the doors unbarr'd.-Hark!'twas the latch.
They come-I hear their oaths, and see their dag-           Enter GREEN.
Insulting o'er my master's mangled body, [gers   Green. How strange a providence attends this
While he for mercy pleads. Good master, live:       man!
I il bar the doors again. But, should I meet'em-'Tis vain to strive with Heaven-Let's give it o'er




CENE II.]                 ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM.                                     623
Mos. No: when I do, may I be curs'd for ever,   Ard. -No more, no moreHopeless to love, and hate without revenge:  I know its plagues, but where's the remedy.
May I ne'er know an end of disappointment,    AMar. In your Alicia.
But, press'd with hard necessity, like thee,   Frank. She shall heal these wounds.
Live, the contempt of my insulting foe.    [life   Ard. She's my disease; and can she be my cure?
Green. I scorn the abject thought-Had he a My friends should rather teach me to abhor her,
Hung on each hair, he dies-If we succeed,    To tear her image from my bleeding heart.
This very night Maria shall be thine. [ To Micr.   Mar. We leave that hateful office to the fiends.
Mich. I am a man again.                      Frank. If you e'er lov'd, you'll not refuse to
Mos. I've thought a way-                           see her:
That may be easy under friendship's mask,   You promis'd that.
Which. to a foe suspected, may be hard.        Ard. Did I.
Green. Friendship! Impossible-              Frank. Indeed, you did.
Mos. -You know him not.             [him.   Ard. Well, then, some other time.
You, with your ruffians, in the street shall seek   Frank. No, see her now.     [see her:
I follow at some distance. They begin          Ard. Franklin, I know my heart, and dare not
(No matter how,) a quarrel, and at once      I have a husband's honour to maintain,
Assault him with their swords. Straight l appear, I fear the lover's weakness may betray.
Forget all wrongs, and draw in his defence; [fly, Let me not do what honour must condemn,
Mark me, be sure, with some slight wound; then And friendship blush to hear.
And leave the rest to me.                      Frank. That Arden. never will.
AMich. I know his temper.                    Mar. Did you but know her griefThis seeming benefit will cancel all           Ard. Am I the cause?
His former doubts, and gain his easy heart.  Have I, just Heaven, have I e'er injur'd her?
Green. Perhaps so-yet —                   Yet I'm the coward. O prepost'rous fear!
Mos. Farther debates are needless. [Exeunt. See, where she comes-Arm'd with my num'rous
wrongs,
SCENE II.-A Room in ARDEN-'s Hougse    I'll meet with honourable confidence
Enter'FRANKLIN and MARIA.           Th' offending wife, and look the honest husband.
Frank. Well, in what temper did you find   Frank.Maria,we'llwithdraw-even friendship
Alicia  here
Mar. Never was anguish, never grief, like hers: Would seem impertinence.     [Exeunt.
She eats, nor sleeps. Her lovely, downcast eyes,   Ard. Be still, my heart.
That us'd to gladden each beholder's heart,
Now wash the flinty bosom of the earth.        Alic. How shall I bear my Arden's just reHer troubled breast heaves with incessant sighs,     proaches!
Which drink the purple streams of life, and blast Or can a reconcilement long continue,
Her bloom, as storms the blossoms of the spring.That's founded on deceit! Can I avow
But sure her prayers must quickly reach high My secret guilt 2-No-At so mean a thought
~ ~reHeavenac  hg'Abandon'd infamy herself would blush.
Nay, could I live with public loss: of honour,
Relenting Arden kindly sooth her sorrows,         Could I live with public loss of honour,
Arden would (ie to see Alicia- scorn'd.
And her lost peace restore,
Fvrank. Their mutual peace, Maria a;:He's here; earth, open-hide-me from his sight.
For his can ne'er be found but in Alicia.   -Ard. Guilt chains her tongue. Lo!: silent, selfAsham'd to view the face of man or day,             conemn'd
As Mosby's - name was written on his brow,  With tearful eyes and trembling limbs she stands.
Asis. na in wad kis s his row,footstepsbut that
He cheerless wanders; seeks the darkest gloom  Alic. Fain would I kiss his footsteps-but that
To hide his drooping head, and grieve alone.        look,
With a full heart, swol'n eyes, and faltering Where indignation seems to strive with grief,
He ~~~~tongue,          gForbids me to approach him.
Ard. Who would think,
He sometimes, seeking to beguile his grief,
Begins a mournful tale: but straight, a thought  That anguish were notreal?
Alic. Pimrooted here.        [were certain,
Of his imagin'd: wrongs crossing his memory,
Ends his sad story ere the half be told.      Ard. Those tears, methinks, even if her guilt
O may our pains with wish'd success be crown'd. Might wash away her pains.
Altic. Support me, Heaven!'
Enter ARDENo                    Ard. Curse on the abject thought. I shall reArd. No, Franklin, no; your friendly cares        lapse
are vain:                           To simple dotage. She steals on my heart,
Were I but certain she had wrong'd my bed,    She conquers with her eyes. If I but hear her
I then might hate her, and shake off my woes;        voice,
But, thus perplex'd, can never taste of comfort.  Nor earth nor heaven can save me from her-snares.
Frank. 0 jealousy! thou bane of social joy!! let me fly-If I have yet the power.
Oh! she's a monster, made of contradictions-!  Alic. O Arden! do not, do not leave me thus.
Let truth in all her native charms appear,                        [Kneels, and holds him.
And with the voice of harmony itself          Ard. I pray thee, loose thy hold.
Plead the just cause of innocence traduc'd;   Alic. 0 never, never.
Deaf as the adder, blind as upstart greatness,  Ard. Why should I stay to tell thee of my
She seeE nor hears. And yet, let slander whisper,    wrongs,
Rumour has fewer tongues than she has ears;    To aggravate thy guilt, and wound thy soul?
And Argus' hundred eyes are dim and slow,   Thyself, if all these agonizing struggles
To piercing jealousy's.-                    Of tears, of sighs, of groans, of speechless sorrJw




624                     ARDIEN OF FEVERSHAM.                                  [ACT IV.
Be but sincere-thyself, will do it better.   Shines bright before, and I shall stray no longer.
One thing I'll tell thee (for perhaps'twill please Whence then these sighs, and why these floods
thee,)                                       of tears.
Thou'st broke my heart, Alicia.              Sighs are the language of a broken heart,
Alic. Oh!         [She falls to the ground. And tears the tribute each enlighten'd eye
Ard. And canst thou,                       Pays, and must pay, for vice and folly past.
Can woman pity whom she hath undone?       And yet the painful'st virtue hath its pleasure:
Why dost thou grasp my knees? what wouldst Though dangers rise, yet, peace restor'd within,
thou say,                           My soul collected shall undaunted meet them.
If thou couldst find thy speech?            Though trouble, grief, and death, the lot of all,
Alic. O! mercy, mercy!                    On good and bad, without distinction, fall;
Ard. Thou hast had none on me, let go my The soul which conscious innocence sustains,
hand:                               Supports with ease these temporary pains;
Why dost thou press it to thy throbbing heart,   But, stung with guilt, and loaded by despair,
that beats-but not for me?                 Becomes itself a burden none can bear. [Exeunt.
Alic. Then may it ne'er beat more.
Ard. At least, I'm sure it did not always so.       SCENE III. — The Street.
Alic. For that, my soul is pierc'd with deep remorse                                     People at a distance, as at a:Fair.
morse;
For that, I bow me to the dust before thee,  Enter ARDEN on one side, and BLACK WImI. and
And die to be forgiven. 0, Arden! Arden!     SHAKEBAG on the other, GREEN directing them.
Ard. Presumptuous fool! what business hast   B. Will. Shakebag, you'll second me-S'blood
thou here?                         give the way.                [Jostles ARDEN.
Did I not know my weakness, and her power!     Shake. May we not pass the streets?
[Aside.   Ard. I saw you not.
Rise —rise —Alicia.                           B. Will. Your sight perhaps is bad, your feeling
Alic. No: here let me lie                 may be better.                  [Strikes him.
On the bare bosom of this conscious earth,    Ard. Insolent villains!           [Draws.'Till Arden speak the words of peace and comfort,   B. Will. Come, we'll teach you manners.
Or my heart break before him.                 Ard. Both at once! barb'rous cowards!
Ard. O, Alicia,
Thou inconsistent spring of grief and joy,                  Enter MosBY.
Whence bitter streams and sweet alternate flow,   Mos. 0, bloody dogs! attempt a life so preCome to my arms, and in this too fond bosom          cious!Disburden all the fulness of thy soul.        B. Will. This is a fury, George.
Alic. Let me approach with awe that sacred       [BLACK WILL and SHAKEBAG beaten off.
temple,                               Shake. I've pink'd him thoughResume my seat, and dwell for ever there.     Ard. Villains, come back; and finish your deArd. There ever reign, as on thy native throne,    sign.
Thou lovely wanderer.                        ~l/Ios. Shall I pursue them, Sir?
Alic. Am I at last,                         Ard. Not for the worldIn error's fatal mazes long bewilder'd,     Mosby! amazing generosity!
Permitted here to find my peace and safety!   Mos. I hope you are not hurt.
Ard. Dry up thy tears; and tell me, truly tell   Ard. Pierc'd to the heartme,                                   Mos. Forbid it, Heaven! quick, let me fly for
Has my long-suffering love at length prevail'd,      help.
And art thou mine, indeed?                   Ard. With sharp reflection:-Mosby, I can't
Alic. Heaven is my witness,                        bear
I love thee, Arden; and esteem thy love     To be so far oblig'd to one I've wrong'd.
Above all earthly good. Thy kind forgiveness  Mos. Who would not venture life, to save a
Speaks to my soul that peaceful calm confirm'd,      friend?
Which reason and reflection had begun.        Ard. From you I've not deserv'd that tender
Ard. Thou'rt cheaply purchas'd with unnum-        name.
ber'd sighs,                          MIos. No more of that-would I were worthy
With many a bitter tear, and years of patience,      of it!
Thou treasure of more worth than mines of gold.   Ard. I own my heart, by boiling passions torn,
I will not doubt my happiness. Thou art,    Forgets its gentleness-yet is ever open
Thou wilt be mine, ever and only mine.       To melting gratitude. 0 say, what price
Alic. I am, I will. I ne'er knew joy till now.  Can buy your friendship?
Ard. This is our truest, happiest nuptial day.   l/los. Only think me yours.
To-night, thou knowest, according to my custom,   Ard. Easy, indeed. I am too much oblig'd.
Our yearly fair returning with St. Valentine,    Why wreak'd not your good sword its justice on
I treat my friends. I go to countenance              me
Their honest mirth, and cheer them with my When, mad with jealous rage, in my own house,
bounty.                             I urg'd you to my ruin?'Till happy night, farewell. My best Alicia,  Mos. I lov'd you then
How will our friends rejoice, our foes repine,    With the same warmth as now.
To see us thus?                              Ard. What's here q you bleed!
Alic, Thus ever may they see us!         Let me bind up your wound.
rihe wandering fires, that have so long misled me,   Mos. A trifle, Sir.
Are now extinguish'd, and my heart is Arden's.   Ard. Your friendship makes it so. —See, FranEl..
The flowery path of innocence and peace             lin, see,




SCENE I.]               ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM.                                        625
Enter FRANKLIN.                Returning from the Fair.-My friend, thy handThe man I treated as a coward, bleeding,     Shakes it?-Be firm, and our united strength
(Wretch that I am! ) for his defence of me.  XWith ease shall cast dead Arden to the earth.
took  to your wound. And, Mosby, let us hope   Green. Thanks to his foolish tenderness of
You'll sup with me. There will be honest Brad-       soul.
shaw,                                 Mos. True; he, who trusts an old invet'rate fbe,
And Franklin here, and-                      Bares his own breast, and courts the fatal blow.
Mos. Sir, I will not fail.                                                    [Exeunt.
Frank. I shall not come.                                    ACT V.
Ard. Nay, Franklin; that's unkind.                 SCENE I.-ARDEN's House.
Pr'ythee —
Frank. Nay, urge me not.-I have my reasons.               ALCIA, alone.
Mos. Avoids my company!-So much the bet- What have I heard! Is this the house of Ardea?
ter.                                 Oh! that the power which has so often sav'd him,
His may not be so proper. [Aside.]-An hour Would send his guardian angel to him now,
hence,                               To. whisper in his ear his present danger!
If you are not engag'd, we'll meet at Fowl's.  Fly, Arden, fly; avoid this fatal roof,    [thee:
Ard. I will be there.                      Where murder lurks, and certain death awaits
Mos.'Till then I take my leave. [Exit MOSBY. Wander —no matter where —Turn but from hence.
Ard. How have I been mistaken in this man 2 Thou canst not miss thy way.-The house is
Frank. How are you sure, you're not mistaken     - theirs.now'                        [think I am suspected-Michael guards the doorArd. No doubt he loves me; and I blush to And even Maria's absent. Bloody Mosby,
How I've suspected him, and wrong'cd Alicia.    These are the fruits of thy detested lust. [manity,
Frank. May you be ever happy in your wife: But, hark, the fiends approach.-Green and huBut-.                       [here.  Enter GREEN, BLACK WLIL, SHAKEBAG, and
Ard. Speak-But what? Let's have no riddles                 MICHAEL.
Can she be innocent, and Mosby guilty 2
Frank. To speak my thoughts, this new offi- Could I prevail on him!-0, Sircious fondness                                          [Talks apart with GREEN.
Makes me suspect:-I like him worse than ever.   B.. Will. What a fair house! rich furniture,
Ard. Because I like him better. What a churl! what piles of massy plate. And, then, yon iron
Frank. You're credulous, and treat my serious chest. Good plunder, comrade.
doubts                                 Shake. And Madam  Arden there-A prize
With too much levity. You vex me, Arden.     worth them all, to me.
[Exit.   B. Will. And shall that fawning, white-livered,
Ard. Believe me, friend, you'll laugh at this coward, Mosby, enjoy all these 2
hereafter.       [Exit the other way.   Shake. No doubt; he would, were we the fools
he thinks us.
MRosBY, having watched FRANKLIN out, re-enters   Green. Had be as many lives as drops of blood
with GREEN.                  I'd have them all.              [To AIwCIA
A/os. The surly friend has left him-As I   Alic. But for one single night —
wish'd(-  -                            Green. I'd not defer his fate a single hour,
You see how eagerly the foolish fowl         Though I were sure myself to die the next.
Flies headlong to our snare: now to inclose him. So, peace, irresolute woman-and be thankful
At eight the guests are bidden to his banquet,    For thy own life.
And only Michael, of his numerous train,       Alic. 0 mercy, mercyKeeps home with his Alicia. He'll secure       Green. Yes,
The keys of all the doors, and let you in    Such mercy as the nursing lioness,
With my two trusty blood-hounds. Alicia seems When drain'd of moisture by her eager young
Averse at present-                           Shows to the prey that first encounters her.
Green. She'll not dare betray us.            B. Wtill. Who talks of mercy, when I am here
AIos. Not when the deed is done. We know    Green. She would prevent us; but our steadi
too much;                                    courage
She'll be our prisoner, and shall be observ'd.  Laughs at her coward arts.
Towards evening, then upon a slight pretence                 [Knocking gently at the gats
To pass an hour at draughts, (a game he loves,) Why, Michael?
I'll draw this husband home. You'll be prepar'd   JIich. Sir!
In th' inner room, (Michael will show it you,)  Green. Thou bloodless coward, what dost'Till, at a signal given, you all rush forth,        tremble at?
And strangle him.                            Dost thou not hear a knocking at the gate?
Green. Good-'tis a death that leaves                                   [Exit MICHAEL
No bloody character to mark the place.       Mosby, no dioubt. How like a sly adulterer,,Alos. Howe'er, come all provided with your Who steals at midnight, and with caution gives
daggers.                            Th' appointed signal to his neighbour's wife!
Do you seek Michael, I'll instruct the rest    B. Will. Which is the place where we're to bu'
Green. What shall the signal be?          concealed?,aos. These words in the game,               Green. This inner room.
"I take you now."                              B. TWill.'Tis well.-The word is, now I take
Green. Arden! thou'rt taken now indeed.            you.    [Knocking louder than be fore
Mlos. His body, thrown behind the abbey-wall,   Green. Ay, there's authority. That speaks the
Shall be descried by the early passenger             master
VOL. I....4 K      53




626                      ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM.                                   [ACT Vi
He seems in haste:'twere pity he should wait.    Ard. Your thoughts are absent, Mosby.
Now we're so well prepar'd for his reception.  B. Will. Blood!why don't Mosby give the word.
[GREEN, Br.LACK WmILI,, and SHAKEBAG, go    Mich. G-ive back; the game's against him.
into the inner room.                 Alic. Fly, Franklin! fly, to save thy Ardeii's
ALICIA remains alone.
Murder herself, that chases him in view,
Alic. Now, whither are they gone?-The door's Beholding me, starts back, and for a moment
unbarr'd.                            Suspends her thirst of blood.        [Aside.
I hear the sound of feet. Should it be Arden,  Ard. Come, give it up; I told you I should win.
And Mosby with him-I can't bear the doubt,                                        [Rises.
Nor would I be resolv'd. Be hush'd, my fears,  Mos. No, I see an advantage; move again.'Tis Mosby, and alone. [Enter MosBY.] Sir;   Ard. There.
hear me, Mosby.                        Mos. Now I take you.
Mlos. Madam, is this a time?              [BLACK WILTr throws a scarf over ARDEN'S head,
Alic. I will be heard;                       in, order to strangle him; but ARDEN disenAnd mark me, when I swear, never hereafter,    gages himself wrests a dagger from  SHAKEBy look, word, act-                            BAG, and stands on his defence, till MosBY
iMos. Your husband comes-                    getting behind, and seizing his arm, the rest
Alic. Ha!-                  [She screams.   assassinate him.
Enter ARDE:N uand MP~ICHAEL.          Alic. 0 power Omnipotent! make strong his arm,
Give him to conquer. Ha! my prayers are curses,
Ard. Am I a monster, that I fright thee thus? And draw down vengeance where they meant a
[To MICHAEL.           blessing.
Say, what has happen'd since I left the house?  Ard. Inhospitable villain!
Thou look'st, Alicia, as if wild amazement     Alic. O! he dies.
Had chang'd thee to the image of herself.      Ard. 0 hold your bloody-Mosby, too! Nay
Alic. Is Franklin with you!                        then                       [Falling.
Ard. No.                                   I yield me to my fate.-Is this, Alicia,
Alic. Nor Fowl, nor Bradshaw              i This, the return for my unequal love?
Ard. Neither, but both expected.-            Alic. Or death, or madness, would be mercies
Alic. Merciful Heaven!             [Aside.         now;
Ard. I meant to dedicate this happy night  Therefore, beyond my hopes.
To mirth and joy, and thy returning love.      Ard. 0 Mosby, Michael, Green,
[She sighs. Why have you drawn my blood upon your souls?
Make me not sad, Alicia: for my sake,         Mos. Behold her there, to whom I was betroth'd,
Let discontent be banished from your brow,   And ask no farther —And welcome Arden's friend with laughing eyes.   Green. Think on thy abbey-lands
Among the first let Mosby be enroll'd —      From injur'd Green.
Alic. The villain!                [Aside.   Ard. You now are your own judges,
Ard. Nay, I am too well convinc'd          But we shall meet again where right and truthOf Mosby's friendship, and Alicia's love,    Who-who are these?  But I forgive you all.
Ever to wrong them more by weak suspicions.   Thy hand, AliciaI've been indeed to blame, but I will make thee  Alic. I'll not give it thee.      [too?
A large amends, Alicia.-Look upon him,         Ard. 0 wretched woman! have they kill'd thee
As on the man that saved your husband's life.    A deadly paleness, agony, and horror,
Alic. Would take my husband's life!-I'll tell On thy sad visage sit. My soul hangs on thee,
him all,                    [Aside. And, though departing-just departing-loves
And cast this load of horror from my soul:   Is loath to leave, unreconcil'd to thee,    [thee:
Yet'tis a dreadful hazard. Both must die.   This useless, mangled tenement of clay.
A fearful thought! Franklin may come, or Brad- Dismiss her pleas'd, and say thou'rt innocent.
shaw-                                  Alic. All hell contains not such a guilty wretch.
O let me not precipitate his fate!  [Aside.   Ard. Then, welcome death! though in the shape
Mos. I see my presence is offensive there.         of murder.
[Going. How have I doted to idolatry!
Ard. Alicia! No-she has no will but mine.   Vain, foolish wretch, and thoughtless of hereafter,
Mos. It is not fit she should:-and yet-per- Norhoped, norwish'd, aheavenbeyond her love.
haps —                               Now, unprepar'd, I perish by her hate.'Twere better, Sir-permit ime to retire.       Alic. Though blacker, and more guilty, than the
Ard. No more-our friendship publicly avow'd, My soul is white from this accursed deed. [fiends,
Will clear her injur'd virtue to the world.  0 Arden! hear meMos. Something there is in that-             Ard. Full of doubts I come,
Ard. It is a debt                          0 thou Supreme, to seek thy awful presence.
I owe to both your fames, and pay it freely.  My soul is on the wing. I own thy justice.
Mos. For her sake, then, not for my own.   Prevent me, with thy mercy.           [Dies.
Alic. 0 vile dissembler.          [Aside.   Alic. Turn not from me:
Ard. Come, take your seat; this shall not save Behold me, pity me, survey my sorrows,
your money.                          I, who despis'd the duty of a wife,
Bring us the tables,'Michael-               Will be thy slave.-Spit on me, spurn me, Sir,
[ They sit and play. I'll love the still.-0 couldst thou court my scorn,
Alic. rAside.] 0 just Heaven!              And now abhor me, when I love thee more,
Wilt thou not interpose?-How dread this pause! If possible, than e'er thou lov'dst Alibia!
Ten thousand terrors crowd the narrow space.   Mos, Mad fool! he's dead and hears thee not.




SCENE I.]               ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM.                                      627
Alic.'Tis false-                            B. Will. Use them yourself:
He smiles upon me, and applauds my vengeance. I hope we're as safe as you.
[Snatches a dagger, and strikes at MOSBY.   Mos. Why, gentlemen-Arden, I us'd thee
-A  knocking at the gate.                  worse!                       [Aside.
Mos. Damnation!-                            B. Will. We shall take care, however, for -our
B. Will.'Sdeath! we shall leave our work un- own sakes.
finished, and be betrayed at last.-Let's hide the   Mos.'Tis very well-I hope we all:are friends.
body.                                        So-softly-softly —Michael, not that door —
Mos. Force her away.                              [MICHAEL going out. at the wrong door
Alic. Inhuman, bloody villains!           So-make what speed you can: I'll waityou there.
[She swoons, as she is forced from the body.                               [Exeunt.
Enter MARIA.                     SCENE II.-A Hall in ARDEN'S House.
Mar. Mosby here!-                                        MosBY alone.
My sliding feet, as I move trembling forwards.
Are drencd in blood.      may  only fancy,    They must pass undescry'd: gardens and fields
Are drench'd in blood.  0 may I only fancy,'
That Arden there lies murder'd-  Are dreary deserts now. Night-fowls and beasts
That Arden there lies murder'd —
Mros. How fares Alicia? —         [hell-          of prey
Aic. As  the howAliing damn'd   and thou my Avoid the pinching rigour of the season,
MAlic. As the hothing damn'd; and thou my Nor leave their shelter at a time like this.
Mar. Unhappy brother!
And yet this night, this lingering winter night,
If thou hast done this deed, hope not to'scape:
Mercy herself, who only seeks for  Hungwith aweight ofclouds that stops hercourse,
ercy sherself, who only seeks form crimes,   Contracts new horrors, and a deeper black
That she may pardon and reform the guilty,   From this damn'ddeed-osy, thou hast thy
Would change her nature at a sight like this.        wish.
Enter MICHAEL.                Arden is dead; now count thy gains at leisure.
Mich. The guests are come-the servants all Dangers without, on every side suspicion;
return'd.                           Within, my starting conscience makes such
Mos. Alicia, be thyself; and mask thy heart,.wounds,
[Lifts up ALICIA. As hell can equal, only murderers feel. [A pause.
From every prying eye, with courteous smiles.   This, this the end of all my flattering hopes!
Alic. Thou canst not think me mean enough 0! happiest was I in my humble state:
to live.                            Though I lay down in want, I slept in peace:
Mos. You would not choose an ignominious My daily toil begat my night's repose,
death                               My night's repose made day-light pleasing to me.
Alic. That's all I. dread-might but the silent But now I've climb'd the top-bough of the tiee,
grave,                              And sought to build my nest among the clouds,
When it receives me to its dark abode,       The gentlest gales of summer shake my bed,
Hide, with my dust, my shame! 0 might that be, And dreams of murder harrow up my soul.
AndArden's death reveng'd-'Tis my sole prayer. But hark!-Not yet!-'tis dreadful being alone.
If not, may awful justice have her course. [Evit. This awful silence, that unbroken reigns
Mos. Sister! our lives are thine-          Through earth and air, awakes-attention more
Mlar. Though Mosby has shook off humanity, Than thunder bursting from ten thousand clouds:
I can't be his accuser.              [Exit.'Sdeath!-'tis but Michael-sayMos. Follow them, Green, and watch Alicia's             Enter MICHAEL.
conduct.
Mich. Dead Arden lies 
Green. I will, but cannot answer for my own. Behind the abbey-tis a dismal sight!
0 Arden! Arden! could we change conditions!
[Exit. It snow'd apace while we dispos'd the body.
B. Will. WVhy, what a crew of cowardsit.    Mos. And not as you return'd 
IBi the same moment, murdering and repenting  Mich. That's  uhMo ive me the ring that is on Arden's finger. Should you be question'd as to Arden's death,
Shake. There. Will you have his purse too? You'll not confess?
Mios. No, keep that.
AMich. No, so Maria's mine.
B. Will. Thanks for our own: we should have   Mich. No, so Maria's mine.
kept-the:ring,                        Mos. She's thine, if all a brother cankept the - ring,                     Mich.. What's if?
Were it not too remarkable.                   Mch. What's if?
But how must we dispose of the body 2       I bought her dear, at hazard of my soul,
MfIos. Convey it through the garden, to the field And  force shall make her mine.Behind the abbey-wall: Michael will show the    Mos. Why, how now, coward.. way.                                            Enter MARIA.
The night is dark and cloudy-yet, take heed-   MIar. The guests refuse to take their seats
The house is full of company.                        without you.
B. Will. Sir, if you doubt our conduct, do't Alicia's grief, too, borders on distraction.
yourself                                     Thy presence may appeaseMos. Nay, gentlemen-                        Mos. Increase it, rather.
Shake. Pretend to direct us!                Mar, Michael, your absence too has been oh.
Mos. For your own sakes-Arden will soon be         serv'd.
miss'd.                               los. Say, we are coming.     [Exit MARIA.
Shake. We know our business, Sir.            Mich. One thing I'd forgot.    [Returning
Mos. I doubt it not.                       Soon as the company have left the house,
There's your reward. The horses both are saddled, The ruffians will return.
And ready for your flight.                     Mos. What would the villains?




628                     ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM.                                   [ACTIT.
Mich. They mutter'd threats and curses,    To apprehend two most notorious ruffians;
And seem'd not satisfied with their reward.  And, information being made on oath,
[Exit. That they were seen t  enter here to-night,
Mos. Let them take all.-Ambition, av'rice, lust, I'm come to search.
That drove me on to murder, now forsake me.    Green. I'm glad it is no worse.    [Aside
0 Arden! if thy discontented ghost            Milos. And can you think that Arden entertains
Still hovers here to see thy blood reveng'd,  Villains like those you speak of? were he here,
View, view the anguish of this guilty breast,  You'd not be thank'd for this officiousness.
And be appeas'd.                     [Exit.   Mayor. I know my duty, Sir, and that respect,
So justly due to our good neighbour's worth.SCENE III.-A Room in ARDEN'S House.   But where is Arden.
A table, c4c. spreadfor supper.        Alic. Heavens! where, indeed!
Mar. Alicia, for my sake-         [Aside.
GREEN, BRADSHAW, ADAM FOWL, ALICIA,         Alic. IfI were silent,
MARIA, 4-C.                 Each precious drop of murder'd Arden's blood
Brad. Madam, be comforted.                Would find a tongue, and cry to Heaven for venA. Fowl. Some accident, or business unfore-        geance.
seen, detains him thus.               Mayor. What says the lady'
Brad. I doubt not of his safety.             Mos. Oh! Sir, heed her not:
Alic. I thank you, gentlemen; I know you lov'd Her husband has not been at home to-night,
My Arden well, and kindly speak your wishes.  And her misboding sorrow for his absence
Enter MosBY.                  Has almost made her frantic.
Mayor. Scarce an hour,
Mos. I am asham'd I've made you wait: be   Mayor. Scarce an hour
seated.                             Since 1 beheld him enter here with you.
Green. Madam, first take your place.  Mos. The darkness of the night deceiv'd you,
Green. Madam, first take your place.               S  * 
Alic. Make me not mad-                               r
To me  all places are alike.          [Sits  It was a stranger, since departed hence.
Toame l   cs ar a. 1     >,.     Mayor. That's  most surplrising. No man
jMAos. Come, since we want the master of the    Mayor. T   s most surprising. No man
knows him better.
house,                                Frank. [Without.] Within there-ho!-bar
I'll take his seat for once.
4sic. I re I e,5 r *.     7                     up your gates with care,
JAlic. Dares he do this?          [Aside. And set a watch-Let not a man go byflos. I'm much afflicted that he stays so late;  [FRANKLIN and others enter, with ights.
The times are perilous.                     And every tongue, that gave not its consent
Green. And he has enemies,                To Arden's death, join mine and cry aloud
Tho' no man, sure, did e'er deserve them less.    To Heaven and earth for justice. Honest Arden
Alos. This day he was assaulted in the street. My friend-is murder'd.
Green. You sav'd him then.
Mos. Would I were with him now!              Green. How
Mar. She starts, her looks are wild.  [Aside   s. Bn whom?
HIow fare you, Madam                           M
How fare you, Madam?                I         Frank. How shall I utter what my eyes have
Alic. I'm lost in admiration of your brother.      seen 
Mar. I fear her more than ever.   [Aside. Horrid with many a gaping wound he lies
Madam, be merry.                   ad        Behind the abbey, a sad spectacle!
Mos. Michael, some wine.  Health and long,  engeance   vengeance!
life to Arden.             [Drinks.  rllayor. Justly art thou mov'd.
Alic. The good you wish, and have procur'd for Passion is reason in a cause like this.
Arden,                                Frank. Eternal Providence, to whose bright eye
Light on thyself!    [Rising, in desperation. arness itslfis as the oon-ay blaze
Mar. For I-leaven's sake!__                Darkness itself is as the noon-day blaze,
Al'. For Heaveny.!-                      Vho brings the midnight murd'rer and his deeds
Alic. Gilve me way.       [Comes forward. To light and shame, has in their own security
Let them despatch, and send me to my husband: Found these.
fAI1 rise.,7l~ayor. Here, seize them all —this instant:
I've liv'd too long with falsehood and deceit.yor Here, seize them all-this instant
[Knocking at the gate. Look to the lady. This may be but feign'd.
Al. Fol W.hat noise is that'? [Exit MICHAEL. Your charge but goes along with my suspicions.
Brad. Pray Heaven, that all be right.       Brad. And mine.
Alos. Bar all the doors.                    A. Fowol. And mine.
Enter MICHAEL.                   Frank. First hear me; and then judge,
Mich. We are discover'd, Sir.  T[To MOB   Whether on slight presumptions I accuse them.
The mayor, with officers and  en in arms. BY. These honest men, (neighbours and townsmen
The mayor, with officers and men in arms.
all)
Enter MAYOR, t4C.               Conducted me, dropping with grief and fear,.Mayor. Go you with these, and do as I directed. To where the body lay;-with them, I took these
[Exeunt Officers and others.       notes,
I'm sorry that the duty of my office       Not to be trusted to the faithless memory.
Demands a visit so unseasonable.             " Huge clots of blood and some of Arden's hair
1ios. Your worship doubtless were a welcome May still be seen upon the garden wall;
guest                               Many such rushes, as these floors are strew'd with.
At any hour; but wherefore thus attended?   Stick to his shoes and garments: and the prints
Mayor. I have received a warrant from the Of several feet may in the snow be trac'd,
council                             From the stark body to the very door."



SCENE III.]               ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM.                                      629
These are presumptions he was murder'd here,    Mayor. This letter proves, Alicia, from the first.
And that the assassins, having borne his corse   Was made acquainted with your black design.
Into the fields, hither return'd again.        B. Will. I know nothing of that: but, if she
Mos. Are these your proofs.               was, she repented of it afterwards. So I think,
Green. These are but circumstances,       you call that a change of mind.
And only prove thy malice.                     Mayor. That may avail her at the bar of
Frank. And this scarf,                             Heaven,
Known to be Arden's, in the court was found,   But is no plea at ours. [ALICIA brought in.]
All blood.                                           Bear them to prison;
Mayor. Search'em.-                        Load them with irons, make them feel their guilt,
Mich. I thought I'd thrown it down the well.  And groan away their miserable hours,
[Aside. Till sentence of the law shall call them forth
Mayor. [To an OFFICER.] Enter that room, To public execution.
search the lady there;                Alic. I adore
We may perhaps discover more.                Th' unerring hand of justice; and with silence
[OFFICER goes out, and re-enters; in the Had yielded to my fate, but for this maid,
mean time another OFFICER searches Who, as my soul dreads justice on her crimes,
MoSBY and GREEN.                    Knew not, or e'er consented to this deed.
1st Officer. On Arden's wife I found this letter.   Mayor. But did she not consent to keep it
2d Officer. And I, this ring on Mosby.             secret?
Mayor. Righteous Heaven!.MVos. To save a brother and most wretched
Well may'st thou hang thy head, detested villain:    friend.
This very day did Arden wear this ring,        Mayor. She has undone herself-Behold how
I saw it on his hand.-                               innocence
Mos. I freely yield me to my fate.         May suffer in bad fellowship.-And Bradshaw,
Enter another OFFICER.            My honest neighbour Bradshaw too-I read it
With grief and wonder.Oficer. We've seiz'd two men behind some   Brad. Madam, I appeal
stacks of wood.                              To you; as you are shortly to appear
Mayor. Well, bring'em in,                 Before a Judge that sees our secret thoughts,
[B 4rACK WfLI, and SHAKEBAG brought in. Say, had I knowledge, orThey answer the description:                   Alic. You brought the letter;
But let them wait'till I have done with these.   But I hope, you knew not the contents.
Heavens! what a scene of villany is here!     Mayor. Hence with them all,'till time and far-.
[Having read the letter.       ther light
B. Will. Since we're sure to die, though I could' Shall clear these mysteries.
wish'twere in better company, (for I hate that   A. Fowl. If I'm condemn'd,
fawning rascal, Mosby,) I'll tell the truth for once. My blood be on his head that gives the sentence.
He has been long engaged in an affair with Ar- I'm not accus'd, and only ask for justice.
den's wife there; but fearing a discovery, and   Frank. You shall have justice all, and rig'roum
hoping to get into his estate, hired us to hide him.  justice.
-That's all.                                So shall the growth of such enormous crimes,
Mayor. And you the horrid deed perform'd.   By their dread fate be check'd in future times.
Shake. We did, with-his assistance, and Green's, Of avarice, Mosby a dread instance prove;
and Michael's.                               And poor Alicia, of unlawful love.   [Exeunt'
53*j




THE JEALOUS WIFE:
A COME 1: DY,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY GEORGE COLEMAN, ESQ.
REMARKS.
Tins piece was originally performed at Drury-lane, and met with astonishing success. The plot is taken from
Fielding's " Tom Jones," at the period when Sophia takes refuge at the house of Lady Bellaston. The portion
of plot borrowed from that work, however, only serves to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Oakly, the jealous wife and her
husband. The passions of the lady are certainly worked up to a sufficient height, and Mr. Oakly's vexation and
domestic misery, in consequence of her behaviour, very strongly supported; yet, perhaps, the author would have
better answered his purpose with respect to exposing the absurdity of the passion, had he made her appear
somewhat less of the virago, and Mr. Oakly not so much of the hen-pecked husband. Mrs. Oakly now rather
appears a lady, who, from a consciousness of her own power, is desirous of supporting the appearance of jealousy,
to procure an undue influence over her husband and family, than one who, feeling the reality of that turbulent yet fluctuating passion, becomes equally absurd in the suddenness of forming unjust suspicions, and in that
hastiness of being satisfied, which love, the only true basis of jealousy, will constantly occasion.
DRAMATIS PE RSONAE.
DRURY LANE.                                  DRURY LANE.
OAKLY....~ ~........M    Wroughton.  JOHN,.....................     Maddocks.
MAJOR OALY,.M........         r. Palmer.      To...................       Mr. Chatterley.
CHARLES,...................MrHolland.         SERVANT,............Mr. West.
RUSSET,...........          Mr. Dowton.
SIR HARRY BEAGLE,............Mr. Wrench.      MRs. OALY........          Mrs. Davison.
CAPTAIN O'CUTTER,............Mr. Johnstone.    LADY FREELOVE,....     Mrs. Harlowe.
LORD TRINKET,............ Mr. Decamp.         HARRIET................    Mrs. Orger.
PARIS.........              Mr. Wewitzer.    TOILET.................. Miss Tidswell.
WILLIAM,.............       Mr. Evans.        CHAMBERMAID............., Miss Jones.
ACT I.                       Tell me, I say, this instant, every circumstance
relating to this letter.
SCENE. —A Room in OAELY'S House.            Oak. How can I tell you, when you will not so
much as let me see it?
Noise heard within.                 AIrs. O. Look you, Mr. Oakly, this usage is not
Mrs. 0. [Within.] Don't tell me-I know it is to be borne. You take a pleasure in abusing my
so-It's monstrous, and I will not bear it.    tenderness and soft disposition.-To be perpetualOak. [Within.] But my dear!-ly running over the whole town, nay, the whole
AMrs. 0. Nay, nay, &c.  [Squabbling within  kingdom too, in pursuit of your amours!-Did not
I discover that you was great with Mademoiselle,
Enter MRS. OAKLY xwith a letter, followed by   my own woman?-Did not you contract a shameOAKLY.                      ful familiarity with Mrs. Freeman?  Did not I
detect your intrigue with Lady Wealthy? Was
Mrs. O. Say what you will, Mr. Oakly, you not youshall never persuade me but this is some filthy    Oak. Oons! Madam, the grand Turk himself
intrigue of yours.                             has not half so many mistresses. You throw nm
Oak. I can assure you, my love-             out of all patience. Do I know any body but ow
Mrs. 0. Your love!-Don't I know  your-  common friends? Am I visited by any body that
630




seNrV:.]                 THE JEALOUS WIFE.                                        631
does not visit you. Do I ever go out, unless you   Mrs. O. What, are you confounded with your
go with me'l And am I not as constantly by guilt? Have I caught you at last?
your side, as if I were tied to your apron-strings?    Oak. 0 that wicked Charles! to decoy a young
iMrs. O. Go, go, you are a false man; have not lady from her parents in the country! The proI found you out a thousand times? and have not fligacy of the young fellows of this age is abomiI this moment a letter in my hand, which con- nable.                         [To himself.
vinces me of your baseness?  Let me know the   Mrs. O. [Half aside, and musing.] Charles!
whole affair, or I will-                    let me see! Charles! no! impossible! This is all
Oak. Let you know! let me know what you a trick.
would have of me; you stop my letter before it   Oak. He has certainly ruined this poor lady.
comes to my hands, and then expect that I should                             [ To himself.
know the contents of it!                       Mrs. 0. Art! art! all art! There's a sudden
Mrs. O. Heaven be praised, I stopped it!  I turn now! You have ready wit for an intrigue,
suspected some of these doings for some time past I find.
-But the letter informs me who she is, and I'll   Oak. Such an abandoned action! I wish I
be revenged on her sufficiently. Oh, you base had never had the care of him.
man, you!                                     Mrs. O. Mighty fine, Mr. Oakly! Go on, Sir,
Oak. I beg, my dear, that you would moderate go on! I see what you mean. Your assurance
your passion! show me the letter, and I'll con- provokes me beyond your very falsehood itself.
vince you of my innocence.                   So you imagine, Sir, that this affected concern,
Mrs. O. Innocence! abominable! innocence! this flimsy pretence about Charles, is to bring you
but I am not to be made such a fool; I am con- off. Matchless confidence! But I am  armed
vinced of your perfidy, and very sure that-  against every thing; I am prepared for all your
Oak.'Sdeath and fire! your passion hurries dark schemes: I am aware of all your low stratayou out of your senses. Will you hear me?   gems.
Mrs. O. No, you are a base man: and I will   Oak. See there now! Was ever any thing so
not hear vou.                                provoking? to persevere in ysor ridiculous —For
Oak. Why then, my dear, since you will nei- Heaven's sake, my dear, don't distract me. When
ther talk reasonably yourself, nor listen to reason you see my mind thus agitated and uneasy, that
from me, I shall take my leave till you are in a a young fellow, whom his dying father, my own
better humour. So your servant!     [Going. brother, committed to my care, should be guilty
Mrs. O. Ay, go, you cruel man! go to your of such enormous wickedness; I say, when you
mistresses, and leave your poor wife to her mise- are witness of my distress on this occasion, how
ries. How unfortunate a woman am I! I could can you be weak enough and cruel enough todie with vexation.                             Mrs. O. Prodigiously well, Sir! You do it very
[ Throwing herself into a chair. well. Nay, keep i.t up, carry it on; there's nothing
Oak. There it is. Now dare not I stir a step like going through with it. 0, you artful creafurther. If I offer to go, she is in one of her fits ture! But, Sir, I am not to be so easily satisfied.
in an instant. Never sure was woman at once I do not believe a syllabfe of all this. Give me the
of so violent and so delicate a constitution! what letter. (Snatches the letter.] You shall sorely reshall I say to sooth her? [Aside.] Nay, never pent this vile business, for I am resolved that I
make thyself so uneasy, my dear; come, come, will know the bottom of it.           [Exit
you know I love you.                           Oak. This is beyond all patience. Provoking
Mrs. O. I know you hate me; and that your woman! Her absurd suspicions interpret every
unkindness and barbarity will be the death of me. thing the wrong way. But this ungracious boy!
[ Whining. In how many troubles will he involve his own and
Oak. Do not vex yourself at this rate. I love this lady's family! I never imagined that he was
you most passionately, indeed I do. This must of such abandoned principles.
be some mistake.
Mrs. O. Oh, I am an unhappy woman!Y and CHARES.
[Weeping.   Char. Good morrow, Sir.
Oak. Dry up thy tears, my love, and be com-   Maj. 0. Good morrow, brother, good morrow.
forted! You will find that f am not to blame in -What! you have been at the old work, I find.
this matter. Come, let me see this letter; nay, I heard you, ding! dong! i'faith! She has rung
you shall not deny me.     [ Takes the letter. a noble peal in your ears. But how now? Why
Mrs. O. There! take it; you know the hand, I sure you've had a remarkable warm bout on't,
am sure.                                     you seem more ruffled than usual.
Oak. [Reads.] To Charles Oakly, Esq.-Hand!   Oak. I am, indeed, brother! Thanks to that'Tis a clerk-like hand, a good round text; and young gentleman there. Have a care, Charles!
was certainly never penned by a fair lady.   you may be called to a severe account for this.
Mrs. O. Ay, laugh at me, do.               The honour of a family, Sir, is no such light matter.
Oak. Forgive me, my love. I did not mean to    Char. Sir!
laugh at thee. But what says the letter? [Reads.]   Maj. O. Hey-day! What, has a curtain lecture
Daughter eloped-you must be privy to it-scan- produced a lecture of morality? What is all this?
dalous-dishonou7rable-satisfaction-revenge -    Oak. To a profligate mind, perhaps, these
um, um, um-injuredfather.                    things may appear agreeable in the beginning.
HENRY RUSSET. But don't you tremble at the consequences?
Mrs. O. [Rising.] Well, Sir, you see I have   Char. I see, Sir, that you are displeased with
detected you. Tell me this instant where she is me; but I am quite at a loss to guess at the occaconcealed.                                   sion.
Oak. So, so, so; this hurts me. I'm shocked.  Oak. Tell me, Sir! where is Miss Harriet
[To himnself. Russet 




632                        THE JEALOUS WIFE.                                     [ACTrI.
Char. Miss Harriet Russet!  Sir, explain.    virtue of abigails, milliners, or mantua-makers'
Oak. Have not you decoyed her from her fa-'prentices.
ther'1                                        Maj. O. So much the better! so much the betChar. I! Decoyed her-Decoyed my Harriet! ter! women are all alike in the main, brother,
I would sooner die than do her the least injury. high or low, married or single, quality or no quaWhat can this mean?                         lity. I have found them so, from a duchess down
Maj. O. I believe the young dog has been at to a milk-maid; every woman is a tyrant at the
her, after all.                              bottom. But they could never make a fool of me.
Oak. I was in hopes, Charles, you had better No, no! no woman should ever domineer over me,
rinciples. But there's a letter just come from  let her be mistress or wife.
her father —                                    Oak. Single men can be no judges in these
Char. A  letter!  What letter?  Dear Sir, cases. They must happen in all families. But
give it me. Some intelligence of my Harriet, when things are driven to extremities-to see a
major! The letter, Sir, the letter this moment, woman in uneasiness-a woman one loves toofor Heaven's sake!                           one's wife-who can withstand it'l You neither
Oak. If this warmth, Charles, tends to prove speak nor think like a man that has loved and
your innocence-                              been married, major!
Char. Dear Sir, excuse me; I'll prove any    Maj. 0. I wish I could hear a married man
thing. Let me but see this letter, and I'll-  speak my language. I'm a bachelor, it's true;
Oak. Let you see it! I could hardly get a but I am no bad judge of your case for all that. I
sight of it myself. Mrs. Oakly has it.       know yours and Mrs. Oakly's disposition to a hair.
Char. Has she got it?  Major, I'll be with you She is all impetuosity and fire; a very magazine
again directly.                [Exit hastily. of touchwood and gunpowder.  You are hot
Maj. O. Hey-dey! The -devil's in the boy! enough too, upon occasion, but then it's over in
What a fiery set of people! By my troth, I think an instant. In comes love and conjugal affection,
the whole family is made of nothing but combus- as you call it; that is, mere folly and weakness:
tibles.                                      and you draw off your forces, just when you
Oak. I like this emotion; it looks well: it may should pursue the attack, and follow your advanserve too to convince my wife of the folly of her tage. Have at her with spirit, and the day's
suspicions.  Would to Heaven I could quiet your own, brother.
them for ever.                                 Oak. Why, what would you have me do?
Mactj. O. Why pray now, my dear, naughty    lfaj. O. Do as you please for one month, whobrother, what heinous offence have you committed ther she likes it or not: and I'll answer for it she
this morning?  What new cause of suspicion? will consent you shall do as you please all her life
You have been asking one of the maids to mend after. In short, do but show yourself a man of
your ruffle, I suppose, or have been hanging your spirit, leave off whining about love and tenderhead out at the window, when a pretty young ness, and nonsense, and the business is done
woman has passed by, or-                     brother.
Oak. How can you trifle with my distresses,   Oak. I believe you are in the right, major! 1
major? Did not I tell you it was about a let- see you are in the right. I'll do it, I'll certainly
ter'?                                        do it. But then it hurts me to the soul, to think
Maj. O. A letter! hum. A suspicious circum- what uneasiness I shall give her. The first openstance, to be sure! What, and the seal a true ing of my design will throw her into fits, and the
lover's knot now, hey 1 or a heart transfixed with pursuit of it, perhaps, may be fatal.
darts; or possibly the wax bore the industrious  AIlaj. 0. Fits! ha, ha, ha! I'll engage to cure
impression of a thimble; or perhaps the folds were her of her fits. Nobody understands hysterical
lovingly connected by a wafer, pricked with a pin, cases better than I do; besides, my sister's sympand the direction written in a vile scrawl, and not toms are not very dangerous. Did you ever hear
a word spelt as it should be! ha, ha, ha!  of her falling into a fit when you was not by 
Oak. Pooh! brother; whatever it was, the let- Was she ever found in convulsions in her closet?
ter, you find, was for Charles, not for me. This No, no, these fits, the more care you take of them,
outrageous jealousy is the devil.            the more you will increase the distemper: let
Maj. 0. Mere matrimonial blessings and do- them alone, and they will wear themselves out, I
mestic comfort, brother! jealousy is a certain sign warrant you.
of love.                                       Oak. True, very true; you are certainly in the
Oak. Love! it is this very love that hath made right-I'll follow your advice. Where do you
us both so miserable. Her love for me has con- dine to-day? I'll order the coach, and go with
fined me to my house, like a state prisoner, with- you.
out the liberty of seeing my friends, or the use of   Maj. 0. 0 brave! keep up this spirit, and you
pen, ink, and paper; while my love for her has are made for ever.
made such a fool of me, that I have never had the    Oak. You shall see now, major. Who's there'
spirit to contradict her.
M/laj. O. Ay, ay, there you've hit it; Mrs.
Oakly would make an excellent wife, if you did Order the coach directly. I shall dine out to-day.
but know how to manage her.                    Serv. The coach, Sir?-Now, Sir? 
Oak. You are a rare fellow indeed to talk of   Oak. Ay, now, immediately.
managing a wife! A  debauched bachelor, a   Serv. Now, Sir'?-the-the-coach, Sir?-that
rattle-brained, rioting.fellow, who has picked up is-my mistressyour common-place notions of women in bagnios,   Maj. 0. Sirrah! do as you are bid. Bid them
taverns, and the camp; whose most refined cornm- put to this instant.
merce with the sex has-been in order to delude   Serv. Ye-yes, Sir-yes, Sir.       [Exit
country girls at your quarters, or to besiege the    Oak. Well, where shall we dine?




SCENE I.]                  THE JEALOUS WIFE.                                       633
Maj. O. At the St. Albans, or where you will.   Maj. O. Lady Freelove's! Hold, hold, Charles!
This is excellent, if you do but hold it.    do you know her ladyship 1?
Oak. I will have my own way, I am deter-   Char. Not much! but I'll break through all, to
mined.                                       get to my Harriet..Maj. 0  That's right.                       Maj. O. I do know her ladyship.
Oak. I am steel.                             Char. Well, and what do you know of her.laj. O. Bravo!                              MVaj. O. O, nothing! Her ladyship is a woOak. Adamant.                              man of the world, that's all.
Maj. O. Bravissimo!                          Char. What do you mean?
Oak. Just what you'd have me.                Mlaj. O. That lady Freelove is an arrantMaj. O. Why, that's well said. But will you By the by, did not she, last summer, make formal
do it?                                      proposals to Harriet's father from Lord Trinket?
Oak. I will.                                 Char. Yes; but they were received with the
Maj. O. You wont.                          utmost contempt. The old gentleman, it seems,
Oak. I will, I'll be a fool to her no longer. But hates a lord, and he told her so in plain terms.
harkye, major, my hat and cane lie in my study.   Maj. O. Such an aversion to the nobility may
I'll go and steal them out, while she is busy talk- not run in the blood. The girl, I warrant you,
ing with Charles.                            has no objection. However, if she's there, watch
Maj. O. Steal them! for shame! Pr'ythee her narrowly, Charles. Lady Freelove is as mistake them boldly; call for them; make them bring chievous as a monkey, and as cunning too. Have
them to you here; and go out with spirit, in the a care of her, I say, have a care of her.
face of your whole family.                     Char. If she's there, I'll have her out of the
Oak. No, no; you are wrong; let her rave after house within this half hour, or set fire to it.
I am gone, and when I return, you know, I shall  Ml aj. O. Nay, now you are too violent -  stay
exert myself with more propriety, after this open a moment, and we'll consider what's best to be
affront to her authority.                    done.
Maj. O. Well, take your own way.                          Enter OAKLY.
Oak. Ay, ay; let me manage it, let me manage    Oak. Come, is thecoach ready?  Let us be
it.                                   [Exit. gone. Does Charles go with us Q
il'aj. O. Manage it! ay, to be sure, you are a   Char.Igowithyou! WhatcanIdo? I am
rare manager! It is dangerous, they say, to med- so vexed and  distracted, and so many thoughts
dle between man an(l wife. I am no great favour-  rowd in upon me, I  don't know wich wman y thoughts
ite of Mrs. Oakly's already; and in a week's time owd in upon me, I don't know whch way to
I expect to have the door shut in my teeth.  turn myself.
Mrs. 0. [WTithin.] The coach!-dines out!Enter CHARLES.                where is your master?
Oak. Zounds, brother, here she is!
How now, Charles, what news?: Char. Ruined and undone! She's gone, un-              Re-enter MRS. OAKLY.
cle! my Harriet's lost for ever.               Mrs. O. Pray, Mr. Oakly, what is the matter
Alaj. O. Gone off with a man 2 I thought so; you cannot dine at home to-day?
they are all alike.                            Oak. Don't be uneasy, my dear!  I have a
Char. Oh, no! Fled, to avoid that hateful little business to settle with my brother; so I am
match with Sir Harry Beagle.                 only just going to dinner, with him and Charles,
Alaj. O. Faith, a girl of spirit; but whence to the tavern.
comes all this intelligence 2I J11rs. O. Why cannot you settle your business
Char. In an angry letter from her father. H'w  here, as well as at a tavern 2 but it is some of your.miserable I am! if I had not offended my Ilar- ladies' business, I suppose, and so you must get
riet, much offended her, by that foolish riot and rid of my company. This is chiefly your fault,
drinking at your house in the country, she would Major Oakly.
certainly, at such a time, have taken refuge in   Maj. O. Lord, sister, what signifies it, whether
my arms.                                     a man dines at home, or abroad  [Coolly.
Maj. O. A very agreeable refuge for a young   Mrs. O. It signifies a great deal. Sir; and I
lady to be sure, and extremely decent!       don't chooseChar. What a heap of extravagancies was I   Maj. O. Phoo! let him go, my dear sister, let
guilty of!                                   him go; he will be ten times better company when
1Maj. O. Extravagancies with a witness! Ah! he comes back. I tell you what, sister, you sit at
you silly young dog, you would ruin yourself with home till you are quite tired of one another, and
er father, in spite of all I could do. There you then you grow cross, and fall out. If you would
sat, as drunk as a lord, telling the old gentleman but part a little now and then, you might meet
the whole affair, and swearing you would drive again in humour.
Sir Harry Beagle out of the country, though I   Mrs. O. 1 beg. Major Oakly, that you would
kept winking and nodding, pulling you by the trouble yourself about your own affairs; and let
sleeve, and kicking your shins under the table, in me tell you, Sir, that Ihopes of stopping you; but all to no purpose.  Oak. Nay, do not put thyself into a passion
Char. What distress may she be-in at this in- with the major, my dear.-It is not his fault; and
stant! Alone and defenceless! Where, where I shall come back to thee very soon.
can she be 2M Mlrs. O. Come back! why need you go out 1 I
Maj. O. What relations or friends has she in know well enough when you mean to deceive me;
town 2                                       for then there is always a pretence of dining with
Char. Relations! let me see. Faith, I have it! If Sir John, or my lord, or somebody; but when you
she is in town, ten to one but she is at her aunt's, tell me that you are going to a tavern, it's such a
Lady Freelove's. I'll go thither immediately.    bare-faced affront.
VOL. I....44L




634                        TH E J EAL O US'WI FE.                              [ACT S.
Oak. This is so strange now! Why, my dear, Tom Jones,; his grandam was the Irish Duchess, and
I shall only just-                           his grandsire'squire Sportley's Trajan; his great
Mrs. O. Only just go after the lady in the let- and great great grandam were NTewmarket Peggy
ter, I suppose.                              and Black Moll; and his great grandsire, and great
Oak. Well, well, I wont go then. Will that great grandsire, were Sir Ralph Whip's Regulus,
convince you? I'll stay with you, my dear, Will and the famous Prince Anamaboo.
~at satisfy you?                                                            JOHN + SPUR.
l/Iaj. O. For shame; hold out, if you are a man.                             mnarc.
[Apart.                                STARTAL.
Oak. She has been so much vexed this morning    Tom. All fine horses, and won every thing! a'lready, I must humour her a little now. [Apart. foal out of your honour's bald-faced Venus, by
llaj. O. Fy, fy! go out, or you are undone.   this horse, would beat the world:
[Apart.   Sir H. Well then, we'll think on't.  But,
Oak. You see it's impossible. I'll dine at home plague on't, Tom, I have certainly knocked up
with thee, my love.    [Apart to MRS. OAKLY. my little roan gelding in this damned wildgoose
Mrs. O. Ay, ay, pray do, Sir. Dine at a ta- chase of threescore miles an end.
vern, indeed!.                    [ Going.   Tom. He's deadly blown, to be sure, your ho-. Oak. [Returning.] You may depend on me nour; and I am afraid we are upon a wrong scent
another time, major.                         after all. Madam Harriet certainly took across
Maj. O. Steel and adamant!-Ah!            the country, instead of coming on to London.
Mrs. O. [Returninzg.] Mr. Oakly.             Sir HI No, no, we traced her all the way up.
-Oak. O, my dear.  [Exit, with MRS. OAKLY. But d'ye hear, Tom, look out among the stables
Maj. 0. Ha, ha, ha! there's a picture of resolu- and repositories here in town, for a smart road
tion! there goes a philosopher for you! ha! Charles! nag, and a strong horse to carry a portmanteau.
Char. 0, uncle, I have no spirits to laugh now.   Tom. Sir Roger Turf s horses are to be sold;
Maj. 0. So! I have a fine time on't between I'll see if there's ever a tight thing there. But I
you and my brother. Will you meet me to din- suppose, Sir, you would have one somewhat
ner at the St. Albans by four  We'll drink her stronger than Snip; I don't think he's quite
health, and think of this affair.            enough of a horse for your honour.
Char. Don't depend on me. I shall be run-   Sir H. Not enough of a horse! Snip's a
ning all over the town, in pursuit of my Harriet; powerful gelding; master of two stone more than
at all events I'll go directly to Lady Freelove's. my weight. If Snip stands sound, I would rot
If I find her not there, which way I shall direct take a hundred guineas for him. Poor Snip! go
myself, Heaven knows.                       into the stable, ITom, see they give him a warm
i1Maj. O. Harkye, Charles; if you meet with mash, and look at his heels and his eyes. But
her, you may be at a loss. Bring her to my where's Mr. Russet all this while?
house; I have a snug room, and-                Tom. I left the'squire at breakfast on a cold
Char. Phoo! pr'ythee, uncle, don't trifle with pigeon pie, and inquiring after Madam Harriet,
me now.                                      in the kitchen. I'll let him know your honour
Maj. O. Well, seriously, then, my house is at would be glad to see him here.
your service.                                  Sir H. Ay, do; but harkye, Tom, be sure you
Char. I thank you; but I must be gone.    take care of Snip.
-7Maj. O. Ay, ay, bring her to my house, and    Tom. I'll warrant your honour.
we'll settle the whole affair for you. You shall clap    Sir H. I'll be down in the stables myself by
her into a post-chaise, take the chaplain of our and by. [Exit TOM.] Let me see-out of the
regiment along with you, wheel her down to Scot- famous Tantwivy by White Stockings; White
land, and when you come back, send to settle her Stockings, his dam, full sister to the Proserpine
fortune with her father; that's the modern art of Filly; and his sire-pox on't, how unlucky it is
making love, Charles.              [Exeunt. that this damned accident should happen in the
lNewmarket week'-ten to one I lose my match
AC T II.                   with Lord Chokejade, by not riding myself, and
SCENE I.-A Room in the Bull and Gate Inn. I shall have no opportunity to hedge my bets neither-what a damned piece of work have I made
Enter SIR HARRY BEAGLE and TOM.         on't. I have knocked up poor Snip, shall loose
Sir H. Ten guineas a mare, and a crown the my match, and as to Harriet, why the odds are
man? hey, Tom!                               that I lose: my match there too-a skittish
Tom. Yes, your honour.                    young tit! If I once get her tight in hand, I'll
Sir H. And are you sure, Tom, that there is make her wince for it. Her estate, joined to my
1no flaw in his blood 1                      own, I would have the finest stud and the noblest
Tom. He's a good thing, Sir, and as little be- kennel in the whole country. But here comes
holden to the ground, as any horse that ever went her father, puffing and
over the turf upon four legs. Why here's his winded horse up hill.
whole pedigree, your honour.                                Enter RUSSET.
Sir IH: Is it attested?
Tom. Very well attested; it is signed by Jack    Rus. WelI, Sir Harry, have you heard any
Spur and my Lord Startal.                   thing of her?
[Giving the pedigree. Sir H. Yes, I have been asking Tom about
Sir H. Let me see. [Reads.] Tom-conme-tickle-me her, and he says you may have her for five hun-.was out of thefamous Tanutwivy mare, by Sir Aaron dred guineas.
Dri.ver's chesnut horse, White Stockings. White   Rus. Five hundred guineas! how d'ye mean?
Stockings, his dam, was got by Lord Hedge's South where is she? which way did she take 1
Barb full sister to the Proserpine Filly, and his sire   Sir H. Why, first she went to Epsom, then to




sCENE II.]                 TH-E  JEALOUS  WIFE.                                    635
Lincoln, then to Nottingham, and now she is at   Tom. A little better, Sir, after his warm mash:
York.                                        but Lady, the pointing bitch that followed you all
Rus. Impossible! she could not go over half the the way, is deadly foot-sore.
ground in the time. What the devil are you   Rus. Damn Snip and Lady! have you heard
talking of2                                  any thing of Harriet?
-Sir H. Of the mare you was just now saying    Tom. Why, I came on purpose to let my masyou wanted to buy.                           ter and your honour know, that John Hostler
Rus. The devil take: the mare i - -who would says as how, just such a lady as I told him Mathink of her, when I ani mad about: an affair of dam  Harriet was, came here in a four-wheel
so much more consequence?                   chaise, and was fetched away soon after by a fine
Sir H. You seemed mad about her a little lady in a chariot.
while ago. She's a fine mare- and a thing of   Rus. Did she come alone?
shape and Hlood.                               Tom. Quite alone, only a servant maid, please
Rus. Damn her blood!-  Harriet, my dear, your honour.
provoking Harriet! Where can she be?  Have   Rus. And what part of the town did they go to?
you got any intelligence of her.                Tom. John Hostler says as how they bid the
Sir H. No, faith, not I: we seem to be quite coachman drive to Grosvenor-square.
thrown out here; but, however, I have ordered    Sir H. Soho! puss-  Yoics!
Tom to try if he can hear any thing of her among   Rus. She is certainly gone to that young rogue;
the hostlers.                                he has got his aunt to fetch her from hence, or
Bus. Why don't you inquire after her yourself? else she is with her own aunt, Lady Freelove:
why don't you run up and down the whole town they both live in that part of the town. I'll go to
after her?-t'other young rascal knows where she his house, and in the meanwhile, Sir Hlarry, you
is, I warrant you. What a plague it is to have a shall step to Lady Freelove's. We'll find her, I
daughter!  When one loves her to distraction, warrant you. I'il teach my young mistress to
and has toiled and laboured to make her happy, be gadding. She shall marry you to-night. Come
the ungrateful slut will sooner go to hell her own along, Sir Harry, come along; we wont lose a
way-but she shall have him. I will make her minute. Come along.
happy, if:I break her heart for it. A provoking   Sir H. Soho! hark forward! wind'em  and
gipsy-to run away, and torment her poor father, cross'em! hark forward! Yoics! Yoics! [Exeunt.
th t dotes on her.! I'll never see her face again..  Hfarry, how can we get any intelligence of        SCENE II.-OAKLY'S House.
her?  Why don't you speak? why don't you tell          Enter MRS. OAKLY.
me?.Zounds! you seem as indifferent as if
meu..id -oun  youe seemrtig as ii feret as i Mrs. O. After all, that letter was certainly inyou did not care a farthing about her.      tended for my husband. I see plain enough they
Sir H. Indifferent! you may well call me in- are all in a plot against me. My husband indifferent! -this damned chase after her will cost triguing, the major working him up to affront me,
me a thousand —if it had not been for her, I Charles owning his letters, and so playing into
would not have been off the course this week to each other's hands. They think me a fool, I find,
have saved the lives of my whole family. I'll hold but I'll be too much for them yet. I have desired
you six to two that-                        to speak with Mr. Oakly, and expect him here
Rus. Zounds! hold your tongue, or talk more immediately. His temper is naturally open; and
to the purpose!-I swear she is too good for if he thinks my anger abated, and my suspicions
you; you don't deserve such a wife; a fine, dear, laid asleep, he will certainly betray himself by his
sweet, lovely, charming girl! She'll break my behaviour. I'll assume an air of good humour,
heart. How shall I find her out?  Do, pr'ythee, pretend to believe the fine story they have trumpSir Harry, my dear, honest friend, consider how  ed up, throw him off his guard, and so draw the
we may discover where she is fled to.        secret out of him. Here he comes. How hard
Sir H. Suppose you put an advertisement into it is to dissemble one's anger! Oh, I could rate
the newspapers, describing her marks, her age, him soundly! but I'll keep down my indignation
her height, and where she strayed from. I reco- at present, though it chokes me.
vered a bay mare once by that method.
Rus. Advertise her!  What, describe my                    Enter OAKLY.
daughter, and expose:her, in the public papers, 0, my dear, I am very glad to see you. Pray
with a reward for bringing her home, like horses sit down. [They sit.] I longed- to see you. It
stolen or strayed!-recovered a bay mare!-the seemed an: age till I had an opportunity of talking
devil's in the fellow! —   he thinks of nothing but over the silly affair that happened this morning.
racers, and bay mares, and stallions.-'Sdeath, I                                 [Mildly.
wish your-                                     Oak. Why, really, my dearSir H. I wish Harriet was fairly pounded; it   Mrs. O. Nay, don't look so grave now. Come,
would save us both a deal of trouble.       -it's all over. Charles and you have cleared up
Rus. Which way shall I turn myself?  I am  matters. I am satisfied.
half distracted. If I go to that young dog's house,   Oak. Indeed! I rejoice to hear it! You make
he has certainly conveyed her somewhere out of me happy beyond my expectation. This disposimy reach. If she does not send to me to-day, I'll tion will insure our felicity. Do but lay aside
give her up for ever. Perhaps, though, she may your cruel, unjust suspicion, and we should never
have met with some accident, and has nobody to have the least difference.
assist her. No, she is certainly with that young   Mrs. O. Indeed I begin to think so. I'll enrascal. I wish she was dead, and I was dead. deavour to get the better of it. And really someI'll blow young Oakly's brains out.         times it is very ridiculous. My uneasiness this
Re-enter TOM.                 morning for instance, ha, ha, ha! To be so much
Sir H. Well, Tom, how is poor Snip2       alarmed about that idle letter, which turned out




636                        THE JEALOUS WIFE.                                   [ACT It.
quite another thing at last; was not I very angry sist him. Let me see; how can we manage it?
with you? ha, ha, ha!     [Affecting a laugh.'Gad! I have hit it. The luckiest thought! and
Oak. Don't mention it. Let us both forget it. it will be of great service to Charles.
Your present cheerfulness makes amends for   1/Irs. O. Well, what is it? [Eagerly.] You
every thing.                                 know I would do any thing to serve Charles, and
Mrs. O. I am apt to be too violent; I love you oblige you.                     [Mildly.
too well to be quite easy about you. [Fondly.]   Oak. That is so kind. Lord, my dear, if you
Well, no matter: what is become of Charles?    would but always consider things in this proper
Oak. Poor fellow! he is on the wing, rambling light, and continue this amiable temper, we
all over the town, in pursuit of this young lady.  should be the happiest people-_
Mrs. O. Where is he gone, pray?             Mrs O. I believe so; but what's your proposal?
Oak. First of all, I believe, to some of her rela-   Oak. I am sure you'll like it. Charles, you
tions.                                       know, may perhaps be so lucky as to meet with
1/Irs. O. Relations! Who are they? Where this lady.
do they live?                                 MSers. O. True.
Oak. There is an aunt of hers lives just in the    Oak. Now I was thinking, that he might with
neighbourhood; Lady Freelove.                your leave, my dear,
Mrs. O. Lady Freelove! Oho! gone to Lady   Mrs. O. Well.
Freelove's, is he? and do you think he will hear   Oak. Bring her home hereany thing of her?                             2Mrs. O. How!
Oak. I don't know; but I hope so, with all my    Oak. Yes, bring her home here, my dear; it
soul.                                        will make poor Charles's mind quite easy: and
MIrs. O. Hope! with all your soul; do you you may take her under your protection, till her
hope so?                         [Alarmed. father comes to town.
Oak. Hope so! ye-yes, why, don't you hope   Mrs. O. Amazing! this is even beyond my exso*?                             [Surprised. pectation.
Mrs. 0. Why, yes. [Recovering.] 0, ay, to be   Oak. Why!-what!sure. I hope it of all things. You know, my   Mrs. O. Was there ever such assurance?
dear, it must give me great satisfaction, as well as [Rises.] Take her under my protection i! What!
yourself, to see Charles well settled.       would you keep her under my nose?
Oak. I should think so; and really I don't know    Oak. Nay, I never conceived; I thought you
where he can be settled so well. She is a most de- would have approvedserving young woman, I assure you.             Mrs. 0. What! make me your convenient
Mrs. 0. You are well acquainted with her woman! No place but my own house to serve
then?                                      your purposes?
Oak. To be sure, my dear; after seeing her so   Oak. Lord, this is the strangest misapprehenoften last summer, at the major's house in the sion! I am quite astonished.
country, and at her father's.                 M1rs. 0. Astonished! yes-confused, detected,
Mrs. O. So often!                         betrayed, by your vain confidence of imposing on
Oak. O, ay, very often; Charles took care of me.-Why, sure, you imagine me an idiot, a drithat, almost every day.                      veller.-Charles, indeed! yes, Charles is a fine
Mrs. O. Indeed! But pray-a-a-a-I say excuse for you. The letter this morning, the let-a-a-                            [ Confused. ter, Mr. Oakly!
Oak. What do you say, my dear?               Oak. The letter! why, sure, thatMrs. O. I say-a-a [Stammering.] Is she   Mrs. O. Is sufficiently explained. You have
handsome?                                   made it very clear to me. Now I am convinced.
Oak. Prodigiously handsome, indeed.       I have no doubt of your perfidy. But I thank you
Mrs. O. Prodigiously handsome! and is she for some hints you have given me, and you may
reckoned a sensible girl?                   be sure I shall make use of them: nor will I rest
Oak. A very sensible, modest, agreeable young till I have full conviction, and overwhelm you
lady, as ever I knew.  You would be extremely with the strongest proof of your baseness towards
fond of her, I am sure. You can't imagine how  me.
happy I was in her company. Poor Charles! she   Oak. Nay, butsoon made a conquest of him, and no wonder, she   Mrs. O. Go, go! I have no doubt of your falsehas so many elegant accomplishments! such an hood: away!                         [Exit.
infinite fund of cheerfulness and good humour.   Oak. Was there ever any thing like. this?
Why, she's the darling of the whole country.    Such unaccountable behaviour! angry I don't
Mrs. O. Lord! you seem quite in raptures about know why! jealous of [ know not what! Hints!
her!                                       -hints I have given her! What can she mean?
Oak. Raptures! not at all. I was only telling j  Enter TOILET, crossing the Stage.
you the young lady's character. I thought you Toilet w
would be glad to find that Charles had made so    Toi  here are you going 
sensible a choice, and was so likely to be happy.  to my  To  order the porter to let in no company
MTrs. O. Oh, Charles!  True, as you say, tomr ladyto-day. She wont see a single soul,
Charles will be mighty happy.                  Oak. What an unhappy woman   N[Eow willt.
Oak. D    on't you thinkc O    o    a.   she sWhat alln unhappy feeding oman her suspo w will she
Oakrs. Don't you thinked so? it. PoorCharles, she sit all day feeding on her suspicions, till she
rs.. Iamconvincedofit.  Poor Charles, has convinced herself of the truth of them.
[ am much concerned for him. He must be very
uneasy about her. I was thinking whether we         Enter JOHN, crossing the Stage.
could be of any service to him in this affair.  Well, Sir, what's your business?
Oak. Was you, my love? that is very good of   John. Going to order the chariot, Sir; my
you. Why, to be sure, we must endeavour to as- lady's going out immediately.       [Exit




WOENEII.]                 THE JEALOUS WIFE.                                        637
Oak. Going out! whst is all this? But every   Lady F. Indeed, my dear, these antediluvian
way she makes me miserable. Wild and ungo- notions will never do now-a-days; and at the
vernable as the sea or the wind! made up of same time too, those little wicked eyes of yours
storms and tempests! I can't bear it: and one way speak a very different language.  Indeed you
or other I will put an end to it.     [Exit. have fine eyes, child! and they have made fine
work with Lord Trinket.
SCENE III.-LADY FREELOVE'S House.           Har. Lord Trinket!        [Contemptuously.
Enter LADY FREELOVE, with a Card; a SERVANT    Lady F. Yes, Lord Trinket: you know it as
following.                  well as I do; and yet, you ill-natured thing, you
Lady F. [Reading as she enters.]  And will s'will not vouchsafe him a single smile. But you
take the liberty of waiting on her ladyship en ca- must give the poor soul a little encouragement,
valier, as he comes frwaitom ther ladyship enege. Does an pr'ythee do.
body walier, as he comes rought the eee. Does cardany Har. Indeed I can't, Madam, for of all manSerbody wait that brought thirinket's servant is in the hall, kind Lord Trinket is my aversion.
MadaServ. Lord   Trinket's servant is in the hall,   Lady F. Why so, child   He is counted a
Laday Fm. My compliments, and I shall be glad well-bred, sensible, young fellow, and the women
Lady F. My compliments, and I shall be glad all think him handsome.
to see his lordship. Where is Miss Russet                     ome.
to serv.  In her own chambere is Madam.iss Russet  Har.'Yes, he is just polite enough to be able to
Lady IF. What is she doing?               be very unmannerly, with a great deal of good
Serv. Writing, I believe,?~ada~n,         breeding; is just handsome enough to make him
Witig, idclievMadam.  most excessively vain of his person; and has just
Lady F. Oh, ridiculous! scribbling to that reflection enough
Oakly, I suppose. [Apart.] Let her know, I reection enough to finish him for a coxcomb
should be glad of her company here.'[Exit'    qualifications which are all very common among
ANT.]should be ga  of her company here. [Eit SER- those whom your ladyship calls men of quality.
a  TIt ism a mighty troublesome thing  manage   Lady F. A satirist too! Indeed my dear, this
a simple girl, that knows nothing of         affectation sits very awkwardly upon you. There
Harriet, like all other girls, is foolishly fond of will be a superiority in the behaviour of persons
this young fellow of her own choosing, her first of fashion.
love; that is to say, the first man that is particu-   Ha. A superiority indeed for his lordship allarly civil; and the first air of consequence which ways behaves wity indeedh insolent familiarity,
a young lady gives herself. Poor silly soul -But ways behaves with so much insolent familiarity,
Oykly must not have her, positively.  A match that I should almost imagine he was soliciting me
Oakly must not have her, positively. A match for other favours,    g
with Lord Trinket will add to the dignity of the life with him.
family. I must bring her into it. But here she   Lady F. Innocent freedoms, child, which every
Lady F. Innocent freedoms, child, which every
EnterHIcomes.  Efine woman expects to be taken with her as an
Enter HARRIET.                acknowledgment of her beauty.
Well, Harriet, still in the pouts! nay, pr'ythee, my   Har. They are freedoms which I think no indear little runaway girl, be more cheerful! your nocent woman can allow.
everlasting melancholy puts me into the vapours.   Lady F. Romantic to the last degree!-Why,
Har. Dear Madam, excuse me. How can I be you are in the country still, Harriet!
cheerful in my present situationS I know my              Enter a SERVANT.
father's temper so well, that I am sure this step
of mine must almost distract him. I sometimes   Serv. My Lord Trinket, Madam.      [Exit.
wish that I had remained in the country, let what   Lady F. I swear now I have a good mind to
would have been the consequence.            tell him all you have said.
Lady F. Why, it is a naughty child, that's Enter LORD TRINET, in boots
certain; but it need not be so uneasy about papa,c. as from the
as you know that I wrote by last night's post to            riding house.
acquaint him that his little lost sheep was safe, Your lordship's most obedient humble servant.
and that you were ready to obey his commands in   Lord T. Your ladyship does me too much hoevery particular, except marrying that oaf, Sir nour. Here I am, en bottine, as you see-just
Harry Beagle.-Lord! Lord! what a difference come from the menege.
there is between a country and a town education!   Lady F. Your lordship is always agreeable in
Why, a London lass would have jumped out of a every dress.
window into a gallant's arms, and without think-   Lord T. Vastly obliging, Lady Freelove. Miss
ing of her father, unless it were to have drawn a Russet, I am your slave. I declare it makes me
few bills on him, been a hundred miles off in nine quite happy to find you together.'Pon honour,
or ten hours, or perhaps out of the kingdom in Ma'am, [ To HARRIET.] I begin to conceive great
twenty-four.                                 hopes of you; and as for you, Lady Freelove, I
Har. I fear I have already been too precipitate. cannot sufficiently commend your assiduity with
I tremble for the consequences.              your fair pupil. She was before possessed of
Lady F. I swear, child, you are a downright.every grace that nature could bestow on her, and
prude. Your way of talking gives me the spleen; nobody is so well qualified as your ladyship to
so full of affection, and duty, and virtue,'tis just give her the bon ton.
like a funeral sermon. And yet, pretty soul! it   Har. Compliment and contempt all in a breath!
can love.-Well, I:wonder at your taste; a sneak- -My lord, I am obliged to you. But, waving
ing, simple gentleman, without a title! and when my acknowledgments, give me leave to ask your
to my knowledge you might have a man of qua- lordship whether nature and the bon ton (as you
lity to-morrow.                              call it) are so different, that we must give up one
Har. Perhaps so. Your ladyship must excuse in order to obtain the other'l
me, but many a man of quality would make me   Lord T. Totally opposite, Madam. The chief
miserable.                                   aim of the bon ton is to render persons of family
54




638                        THE JEALOUS WIFE.                                    [ACT I.
different from the vulgar, for whom indeed nature   Lord T. Not I,'pon honour, Madam; that 1
serves very well. For this reason it has, at va- left to their own ingenuity to discover.
rious times, been ungenteel to see, to hear, to   Lady F. And pray, my lord, where in'this town
walk, to be in good health, and to have twenty have this polite company bestowed themselves?
other horrible perfections of nature. Nature in-   Lord T. They lodge, Madam, of. all places in
deed may do very well sometimes. It made you, the world, at the Bull and Gate Inn, in Holborn.
for instance, and it then made something very    Lady F. Ha, ha, ha!  The Bull and Gate!
lovely; and if you would suffer us of quality to Incomparable!  What, have they brought any
give you the ton, you would be absolutely divine: hay or cattle to town?
but now-me-Madam-me-nature never made   Lord T. Very well, Lady Freelove, very well
such a thing as me.                          indeed! There they are like so many graziers;
Har. Why, indeed, I think your lordship has and there, it seems, they have learned that this,
very few obligations to her..           lady is certainly in London.
Lord T. Then you really think it's all my    Har. Do, dear Madam, send a card directly to
own   I declare now that is a mighty genteel my father, informing him where I am, and that
compliment: nay, if you begin to flatter already, your ladyship would be glad to see him here. For
you improve apace.'Pon honour, Lady Freelove, my part I dare not venture into his presence, till
I believe-we shall make something of her at last.  you have in some measure pacified him; but for
Lady F. No doubt on't. It is in your lord- Heaven's sake, desire him  not to bring that
ship's power to make her a complete woman of wretched fellow along with him.
fashion at once.                               Lord T. Wretched fellow!  Oho! Courage,
Lord T. Hum! Why, ay-  Milor Trinket!                                           [Aside.
Har. Your lordship must excuse me. I am of   Lady F. I'll send immediately. Who's there?
a very tasteless disposition. I shall never bear to       Re-enterSERVANT.
be carried out of nature.
Lady F. You are out of nature now, Harriet!   Serv. [Apart to LADY FREELOVE.] Sir Harry
I am sure no woman but yourself ever objected to Beagle is below, Madam.
being carried among persons of quality. Would    Lady F. [Apart to SERVANT.] I am not at
you believe it, my lord! here has she been a whole home.-Have they let him in?
week in town, and would never suffer me to in-   Serv. Yes, Madam.
troduce her to a rout, an assembly, a concert, or   Lady F. How  abominably unlucky this is!
even to court, or the opera; nay, would hardly so Well, then, show him into my dressing-room, I
much as mix with a living soul that has visited me. will come to him there.  [Exit SERVANT.
Lord T. No wonder, Madam, you do not   Lord T. Lady Freelove! no engagement I
adopt the manners of persons of fashion, when  hope   We wont part with you,'pon honour.
you will not even honour them with your compa-   Lady F. The worst engagement in the world.
ny. Were you to make one in our little coteries, A pair of musty old prudes! Lady Formal and
we should soon make you sick of the boors and I Miss Prate.
bumpkins of the horrid country. By the by, I   Lord T. 0 the beldams! as nauseous as ipecamet a monster at the riding-house this morning  cuanha,'pon honour.
who gave me some intelligence, that will surprise    Lady F. Lud, lud! what shall I do with them?
you, concerning your famnly.                 Why do these foolish women come troubling me
Har. What intelligence?                   now 2 I must wait on them in the dressing-room,
Lady F. Who was this monster, as your lord- and you must excuse the card, Harriet, till they
ship calls him? a curiosity, I dare say.    are gone. I'll dispatch them as soon as I can, but
Lord T. This monster, Madam, was formerly  Heaven knows when I shall get rid of them, for
my head groom, and had the care of all my run- they are both everlasting gossips.! though the
ning horses; but growing most abominably surly  words come from her ladyship one by one, like
and extravagant, as you know all these fellows drops from a still, while the other tiresome woman
do, I turned him off; and ever since my brother, overwhelms us with a flood of impertinence. HarSlouch Trinket, has had the care of my stud, riet, you'll entertain his lordship till I return.
rides all my principal matches himself, and-                                       [Exit.
Har. Dear, my lord, don't talk of your groom    Lord T. Gone! —'Pon honour, I am not sorry
and your brother, but tell me the news. Do you for the coming in of these old tabbies, and am
know any thing of my father?                much obliged to her ladyship for leaving us such
Lord T. Your father, Madam, is now in town. an agreeable tete-a-tete.
This fellow, you must know, is now groom to Sir   Hat. Your lordship will find me extremely bad
Harry Beagle, your sweet rural swain, and in- company.
formed me that his master and your father were   Lord T. Not in the least, my dear! We'll
running all over the town in quest of you; and that entertain ourselves one way or other, I'll warrant
he himself has orders to inquire after you: for you.-'Egad, I think it a mighty good opportuniwhich reason, I suppose, he came to the riding-. ty to establish a better acquaintance with you.
house stables to look after a horse, thinking it, to   Har. I don't understand you.
be sure, a very likely place to meet you. Your   Lord T. No? -Why then I'll speak plainfather, perhaps, is gone to seek you at the Tower, er.-[Pausing, and looking her full in theface.]
or Westminster Abbey, which is all the idea he You are an amazing fine creature,'pon honour.
has of London; and your faithful lover is probably   Har. If this be your lordship's polite conversacheapening a hunter, and drinking strong beer, at tion, I shall leave you to amuse yourself in solilohe Horse and Jocky in Smithfield.           quy.                                 [Going,
Lady F. The whole set admirably disposed of.   Lord T. No, no, no, Madam, thaf must not be,
Hlar. Did not your lordship inform him where I [Stopping her.] This place, my passion, the opwas?                                         portunity, all conspire



8CENEI.]                    THE JEALOUS WIFE.                                      639
Har. How, Sir! you don't intend to do me any the back stairs, crying for help, crossed the ser
violence?                                   vants' hall in tears, and took a chair at the door.
Lord T.'Pon honour, Ma'am, it will be doing   Lady F. Blockheads! to let her go out in a
great violence to myself, if-I do not. You must cha'r alone!-Go and inquire after her immeexcuse me.              [Struggling with her. diately.                    [E:xit SERVANT.
Har. Help! help! murder! help!               Sir H. Gone!-When I had just run her
Lord T. Your yelping will signify nothing-  down; and:is the little puss stole away at last?
nobody will come.               [Struggling.   Lady F. Sir, if you will walk in, [ To SIR H.]
Har. For Heaven's sake!-Sir!-My lord!-  with his lordship and me, perhaps you may hear
[Noise within. some tidings of her; though it is most probable
Lord T. Plague on't, what noise!-Then I- she may be gone to her father. 1 don't know any
must be quick.             [Still struggling.  other friend she has in town.
Har. Help! murder! help! help!              Char. I am heartily glad she is gone. She is
Enter CHARLES, hastily.           safer any where than in this house.
Lady F. Mighty well, Sir! —My lord, Sir
Char. What do I hear? my Harriet's voice Harry,-I attend you.
calling for help!-Ha!-[Seeing them.]  Is it   Lord T. You shall hear from me, Sir!
possible?-Turn, ruffian! I'll find you employ-                             [To CHARLES.
ment.                             [Drawing.   Char. Very well, my lord.
Lord T. You are a most impertinent scoun-   Sir H. Stole away!-plague on't   stole
drel, and I'll whip you through the lungs,'pon away! [Exeunt SIR HARRY andLO RD TRINKET.
honour.                                        Lady F. Before I follow the company, give me
[ They fight; HARRIET runs out, scream- leave to tell you, Sir, that your behaviour here has
ing help, c[c.                       been so extraordinaryRe-enter LADY FREELOVE, with SIR HARRY        Char. My treatment here, Madamj has indeed
BEAGLE, and Servants.             been very extraordinary.
Lady- F. Indeed!-Well, no matter-permit
Lady F. How's this?-Swords drawn in my me to acquaint you, Sir, that there lies your way
house!-Part them-[ They are parted.] This out, and that the greatest favour you can do me,
is the most impudent thing                   is to leave the house immediately.
Lord T. Well, rascal, I shall find a time; I   Char. That your ladyship may depend on.
know you, Sir!                               Since you have put Miss Russet to flight, you
Char. The sooner the better; I know your may be sure of not being troubled with my conlordship too.                                pany. I'll after her immediately.
Sir H. I'faith, Madam, [ To LADY FREELOVE.]   Lady F. If she has any regard for her reputawe had like to have been in at the death.    tion, she'll never put herself into such hands as
Lady F. What is all this? pray, Sir, what is yours.
the meaning of your coming hither, to raise this   Char. 0 Madam, there can be no doubt of her
disturbance? do you take my house for a brothel? regard for that, by her leaving your ladyship.
[To CHARLES.   Lady F. Leave my house.
Char. Not I, indeed, Madam; but I believe his   Char. Directly-A charming house! and a
lordship does.                               charming lady of the house too!-ha, ha, ha!
Lord T. Impudent scoundrel!                  Lady F. Vulgar fellow!
Lady F. Your conversation, Sir, is asinsolent   Char. Fine lady!      [Exeunt severally.
as your behaviour. Who are you? What brought
you here'?                                                    ACT III.
Char. I am one, Madam, always ready to draw   SCENE I.-LADY FREELOVE'S House.
my sword in defence of innocence in distress, and
more especially in the cause of that lady I deli-  Enter LADY FREEIOVE and LORD TRINKET.
vered from his lordship's fury; in search of whom    Lord T. Doucement, doucement, my dear Lady
I troubled your ladyship's house.            Freelove!-  Excuse me, I mean - no harm,'pon
Lady I' Her lover, I suppose; or what?    honour.
Char. At your ladyship's service; though not   Lady F. Indeed, indeed, my Lord Trinket,
quite so violent in my passion as his lordship this is absolutely intolerable-! -What, to offer
there.                                       rudeness to a young lady in my house!  What
Lord 7'. Impertinent rascal!               will the world say of it?
Lady F. You shall be made to repent of this   Lord T. Just what the world pleases.-It
insolence,                                   does not signify a doit what they say.-However,
Lord -T. Your ladyship may leave that to me. I ask pardon; but'egad, I thought it was the best
Char. Ha, ha!                             way.
Sir H. But pray what is become of the lady all   Lady F. For shame, for shame, my lord! I
this while? why, Lady Freelove, you told me she am quite hurt at your want of discretion; and as
was not here; and ifaith, I was just drawing off this is rather an ugly affair in regard to me, as
another way, if I had not heard the view halloo.  well as your lordship, and may make some noise,
Lady F. You shall see her immediately, Sir; I think it absolutely necessary, merely to save apwho's there?                                pearances, that you should wait on her father,
Enter SERVANT.                palliate metters as well as you can, and make a
formal repetition of your proposal of marriage.
Where is Miss Russet?                         Lord T. Your ladyship is perfectly in the right.
Serv. Gone out, Madam.                     -You are quite aufait of the affair. It shall be
Lady F. Gone out?-Where 1                 done immediately, and then your reputation will
Serv. Idon't know, Madam' but she run down be safe, and my conduct justified to all tne




646                       THE JEALOUS WIFE.                                 [ACT 111
world. But should the old rustic continue as to ask of you, captain, need not carry you so fa:
stubborn as his daughter, your ladyship, I hope, out of your way. The whole affair is, that thereo
has no objections to my being a little rusee, for I is a couple of impudent fellows at an inn in Holmust have her,'pon honour.                born, who have affronted me, and you would
Enter SERVANT.                oblige me infinitely, by pressing them into his
majesty's service.
Serv. Captain O'Cutter, to wait on your lady-   Lady -F. Now I understand-  Admirable!
ship.                                                                           I 4part,
Lady Ft. 0 the hideous fellow! The Irish    O'Cut. With all my heart, my lord, and tank
sailor-man, for whom I prevailed on your lord- you too,'fait. But, by the by, I hope they are
ship to get the post of regulating captain. I sup- not house-keepers, or freemen of the city. There's
pose he is come to load me with his odious thanks. the devil to pay in meddling with them. They
I wont be troubled with him now.           boder one so about liberty, and property, and stuff
Lord T. Let him in, by all means. He is the -It was but t'other day that Jack Trowser was
best creature to laugh at in nature. He is a per- carried before my lord mayor, and lost above a
fect sea-monster, and always looks and talks as if twelvemonth's pay for nothing at all, at all.
he was upon deck. Besides a thought strikes   Lord T. I'll take care you shall be brought into
me-He may be of use.                       no trouble.  These fellows were formerly my
Lady F. Well-send the creature up then. grooms. If you'll call on me in the morning, I'll
[Exit SERVANT.] But what fine thought is this!  go with you to the place.
Lord T' A coup de maitre,'pon honour! I   O'Cut. I'll be with your lordship, and bring
intend-but, hush! here the porpus comes.   with me four or five as pretty boys as you'll wish
Entter CAPTAIN O CUTTER.          to clap your two looking eyes upon of a summer's day.
Lady F. Captain, your humble servant! I   Lord T. I am much obliged to you-But, capam very glad to see you.                   tain, I have another little favour to beg of you.
O'Cut. I am much obliged to you, my lady!   O'Cut. Upon my shoul, I'll do it.
Upon my conscience, the wind favours me at all   Lord T. What, before you know it.
points. I had no sooner got under weigh, to tank    O'Cut. Fore and aft, my lord!
your ladyship, but I have borne down upon my   Lord T. A gentleman has offended me in a
noble friend his lordship too. I hope your lord- point of honourship's well?                                  O'Cut. Cut his troat!
Lord P. Very well, I thank you, captain:-   Lord T. Will you carry him a letter from me?
but you seem to be hurt in the service: what is   O'Cut. Indeed and I will:-and I'll take you
the meaning of that patch over your right eye?   in tow too; and you shall engage him yard-arm
O'Cut. Some advanced wages from my new  and yard-arm.
post, my lord! This pressing is hot work, though   Lord T. Why then, captain, you'll come a
it entitles us to smart money.             little earlier to-morrow morning than you proLady F. And pray, in what perilous adventure posed, that you may attend him with my billet,
did you get that scar, captain?           before you proceed on the other affair.
O'Cut. Quite out of my element, indeed, my   O'Cut. Never fear it, my lord   Your sarlady, I got it in an engagement by land. A day vant! —My ladyship, your humble sarvant!
or two ago, I spied three stout fellows, belonging   Lady FP. Captain, yours-Pray give my service
to a merchantman. They made down Wapping. to my friend Mrs. O'Cutter. How does she do?
I immediately gave my lads the signal to chase,   O'Cut. I tank your ladyship's axing-The
and we bore down right upon them. They tack- dear creature is purely tight and well.
ed, and lay to.-We gave them a thundering   Lord T. How many children have you, captain?
broadside, which they resaved like men; and one   O'Cut. Four, an please your lordship, and
of them made use of small arms, which carried off  another upon the stocks.
the weathermost corner of Ned Gage's. hat; so I   Lord T. When it is launched, I hope to be at
immediately stood in with him, and raked him, the christening.-I'll stand godfather, captain.
but resaved a wound on my starboard eye, from    O' Cut. Your lordship's very good.
the stock of the pistol. However we took them    Lord 7'. Well, you'll come to-morrow.
all, and they now lie under the hatches, with fifty   O' Cut. Ay, my lord, and every day next week.
more, aboard a tender off the Tower.       -Little Terence O'Cutter never fails, fait, when
Lord T. Well done, noble captain! - But a tioat is to be cut.                 [Exit.
however you will soon have better employment,   Lady F. Ha, ha, ha! but, sure, you don't infor I think the next step to your present post, is tend to ship off both her father and her country
commonly a ship.                           lover for the Indies!
O'Cut. The sooner the better, my lord! Ho-   Lord T. 0 no! Only let them contemplate
nest Terence O'Cutter shall never flinch, I war- the inside of a ship, for a day or two.
rant you; and has had as much sea-sarvice as any   Lady F. Well, my lord, what use do you proman in the navy.                           pose to make of this stratagem 
Lord T. You may depend on my good offices,   Lord T. Every use in nature. This artifice
captain! But, in the meantime, it is in your must, at least, take them out of the way for some
power to do me a favour.                   time; and in the mean while measures may be
O' Cut. A favour, my lord? —your lordship does concerted to carry off the girl.
me honour. I would go round the world, from
one end to the other, by day or by night, to sarve
your lordship, or my good lady here.         Serv. Mrs. Oakly, Madam, is at the door, in
Lord T. Dear Madam, the luckiest thought in her chariot, and desires to have the honourofspeaknature! [Apart to LADY F.] The favour I have ing to your ladyship on particular business.




scrm ~i.1                 THE JEALOUS WIFE.                                        641
Lord T. Mrs. Oakly! what can that jealous- scarce a week, her behaviour was rather mystepated woman want with you?                  rious; —letters and messages, to and fro, betweer.
Lady F, No matter what,-I hate her mor- her and I don't know who.-I suppose you kno;v
tally.-Let her in.           [Exit SERVANT. that Mr. Oakly's nephew has been here, Madam;
Lord T. What wind blows her hither 2         Mrs. O. I was not sure of it. Has he been to
Lady F. A wind that must blow us some good. wait on your ladyship already on this occasion?
Lord T. How'-I was amazed you chose to   Lady F. To wait on me!-The expression
see her.                                    is much too polite for the nature of his visit.-My
Lady F. How can you be so slow of apprehen- Lord Trinket, the nobleman whom you met as
sion 2-She comes, you may be sure, on some oc- you came in, had, you must know, Madam, some
casion relating to this girl: in order to assist young thoughts of my niece, and, as it would have been
Oakly, perhaps, to sooth me, and gain intelli- an advantageous match, I was glad of it: but I
gence, and so forward the match; but I'll forbid believe, after what he has been witness to this
the banns, I warrant you.-Whatsoever she morning, he will drop all thoughts of it.
wants, I'll draw some sweet mischief out of it.    l Mrs. 0. I am sorry that any relation of mine
-  But, away, away!-I think I hear her-slip 4 should so far forget himselfdown the back stairs-or-stay, now I think on't,   Lady F. It's no matter-his behaviour, irngo out this way-meet her-and be sure to make deed, as well as the young lady's, was pretty exher a very respectful bow, as you go out.   traordinary-and yet, after all, I don't believe he
Lord T. Hush! here she is!                 is the object of her affections.
MAIrs. O. Ha!              [Much alarmed.
Enter MRS. OAKLY.                 Lady F. She has certainly an attachment some
where, a strong one; but his lordship, who was
[LORD TRINKET bows, and exit. present all the time, was convinced, as well as
-Mirs. O. I beg pardon, for giving your lady- myself, that Mr. Oakly's nephew was rather a
ship this trouble.                           convenient friend, a kind of go-between, than the
Lady F. I am always glad of the honour of lover.-Bless me, Madam, you change colour!
seeing Mrs. Oakly.                           you.seem uneasy! What's the matter? 
M/rs. O. There is a letter, Madam, just come   Mrs. O. Nothing-Madam- nothingfrom the country, which has occasioned some a little shocked, that my husband should bealarm in our family. It comes from Mr. Russet — have so.
Lady F. Mr. Russet!                          Lady F. Your husband, Madam!
Mrs. O. Yes, from Mr. Russet, Madam; and   Mrs. O. His nephew, I mean.-. His unparis chiefly concerning his daughter. As she has donable rudeness-But I am not well-  I am
the honour of being related to your ladyship, I sorry I have given your ladyship so much troutook the liberty of waiting on you.          ble-I'll take my leave.
Lady F. She is, indeed, as you say, Madam, a   Lady F. I declare, Madam, you frighten me.
relation of mine; but, after what has happened, I Your being so visibly affected makes me quite
scarce know how to acknowledge her.          uneasy. I hope I have not said any thing —-I
IMrs. O. Has she been so much to blame then? really don't believe your husband is in fault. Men,
Lady F. So much-.Madam! —— Only judge to be sure, allow themselves strange libertiesfor yourself- Though she had been so indis- But I think, nay, I am sure, it cannot be so-It
creet, not to say indecent in her conduct, as to is impossible! don't let what I have said have ally
elope from her father, I was in hopes to have effect on you.
hushed up the matter, for the honour of our fa-   J'irs. 0. No, it has not-I have no idea of such
mily. —-But she has run away from me too, Ma- a thing.-Your ladyship's most obedient-[ Going,
dam:-went off, in the most abrupt manner, not returns]-but sure, Madam, you have not heard
an hour ago.                                 -or don't know any thing-Mrs. O. You surprise me.  Indeed, her fa-   Lady F. Come, come, Mrs. Oakly, I see how
ther, by his letter, seems apprehensive of the: it is, and it would not be kind to say all I know.
worst consequences.-But does your ladyship I dare not tell you what I have heard. Only be
imagine any harm has happened?               on your guard-there can be no harm in that.
Lady F. I can't tell-I hope not-But indeed Do you be against giving the girl any counteshe's a strange girl. You know, Madam, young nance, and see what effect it has.
women can't be too cautious in their conduct.   Mrs. 0. I will-I am much obliged-But
She is, I am sorry to declare it, a very dangerous does it appear to your ladyship then that Mr.
person to take into a family.                OaklyMrs. 0. Indeed!                 [Alarmed.   Lady F. No, not at all-nothing in't, I dare
Lady F. If I was to say all I know-       say-I would not create uneasiness in a familyMirs. 0. Why sure your ladyship knows of but I am a woman myself, have been married,
nothing that has been carried on clandestinely and can't help feeling fobr you.-But don't be unbetween her and Mr. Oakly!      [In disorder. easy; there's nothing in't, I dare say.
Lady F. Mr. Oakly!                          Mrs. O. I think so.-  Your ladyship's humMlis. O. Mr. Oakly-no, not Mr. Oakly-that ble servant.
is, not my husband-I don't mean him-not him    Lady F. Your servant, Madam.-Pray don't
-but his nephew-young Mr. Oakly.             be alarmed; I must insist on your not making
Lady F. Jealous of her husband! So, so; now I yourself uneasy.
know my game.                        [Aside.   Mrs. O. Not at all alarmed-not in the least
lMrs. O. But pray, Madam, give me leave to uneasy-Your most obedient.            [Exit.
ask, was there any thing very particular in her   Lady F. Ha, ha, ha! there she goes, brimful
conduct while she was in your ladyship's house? of anger and jealousy, to vent it all on her hueLady F. Why really, considering she was here band.-Mercy on the poor man!
VoL, I..,4M         54*




6f42                      THE JEALOUS WIFE.                                   [ACT II1.
Re-enter LORD TRINKET.               Oak. But what, Madam! pray be quick!The very person in the world I would not have
Bless me, my lord, I thought you was gone!   seen                                 [Aside.
Lord T. Only into the next room. My cu-   lar. You seem uneasy, Sir!
riosity would not let me stir a step further. I
heard it all, and was never more diverted in my    Oar. I   am at present, Sir, through a, concurHar. I am at present, Sir, through a concurlife,'pon honour. Ha, ha, ha!
Lady Ft. How the silly creature took it.-Ha, rence of strange accidents, in a very unfortunate
Lady F. How the silly creature took it.-Ha, situation, and do not know what will become of
ha, ha!                                      me without your assistance.
Lord T. Ha, ha, ha! —My dear Lady Free- me without your assistance.
ove, ouT. have  a,    y dearl of i eny, a  eal of    Oak. I'll do every thing in my power to serve
love, you have a deal of ingenuity, a deal of
~~esprit'pon honour.you. I know of your leaving your father, by a
esprit,'pon honour1.. 1  * letter we have had from him. Pray let mle know
Lady P. A little shell thrown into the enemy's the rest of your story.
works, that's all. ha haar. My story, Sir, is very short. When I
L Both. Ha, ha, ha, ha!                   left my father's I came immediately to London,
Ladly F  But I must leave you —I have twenty  and took refuge with a relation; where, instead
visits to pay. You'll let me know how you suc- of meeting withe protection I expected, instead
eed inx your secret expedition.              of meeting with the protection I expected, I was
ed in your secreT t     expedition         alarmed with the most infamous designs upon my
Lord T. That you may depend on.            honour. It is not an hour ago since your nephew
~Lady  F. Remember theD, that to-morrow  rescued me from  the attempts of a villain. I
morning I expect to see you. At present, your rescued me fom  the attempts of a vllai. I
ordshnin wg Ill excuse me.    At present     tremble to think that I left him actually engaged
lordship will excuse me. 1[Eeunt. in a duel.
Oak. He is very safe. He has just sent home
the chariot from the St. Alban's tavern, where he
Enter HARRIET,following WILLIAM.        dines to-day.   But what are your commands
for me, Madam?
Har. Not at home! are you sure that Mrs.   Har. The favouar, Sir, I would now request of
Oakly is not at home, Sir?                  you is, that you would suffer me to remain, for -a
Wil. She is just gone out, Madam.         few days, in your house.
Har. I have something of consequence-  If    Oak. Madam!
you will give me leave, Sir, I will wait till she   Har. And that, in the mean time, you will ulse
returns.                                     your utmost endeavours to reconcile me to my faWil. You would not see her, if you did, Ma- ther, without his forcing me into a marriage with
dam. She has given positive orders not to be in- Sir Harry Beagle.
terrupted with any company to-day.             Oak. This is the most perplexing situation!
Hlar. Sure, Sir, if you was to let her know that -Why did not Charles take care to bestow
I had particular business-                   you properly?
Wil. I should.not dare to trouble her, indeed,   Har. It is most probable, Sir, that I should not
Madam.                                       have consented to such a measure myself. The
HIar. How unfortunate this is! what can I do? world is but too apt to censure, even without a
-Pray, Sir, can I see Mr. Oakly then?       cause: and if you are so kind as to admit me into
Wil. Yes, Madam: I'll acquaint my master, if your house, I must desire not to consider Mr.
you please.                                  Oakly in any other light than as your nephew.
Har. Pray do, Sir.                           Oak. What an unlucky circumstance! —
Wil. Will you favour me with your name, Upon my soul, Madam, I would do any thing to
Madam?                                      serve you-but being in my house creates a diffiHar. Be pleased, Sir, to let him know that a culty thatlady desires to speak with him.                Biar. I hope, Sir, you do not doubt the truth of
Wil. I shall, Madam.               [Exit. what I have told you?
Hear. I wish I could have seen Mrs. Oakly.   Oak. I religiously believe every tittle of it, MaWhat an unhappy situation I am reduced to by dam; but I have particular family considerations,
my father's obstinate perseverance to force me that -
into a marriage which my soul abhors.          Har. Sure, Sir, you cannot suspect me to be
Enter OAKLY.        S         base enough to form any connexions in your family, contrary to your inclinations, while I am
Oak. [At entering.]  Where is this lady? living in your house!
[Seeing her.]-Bless me, Miss Russet, is it you?    Oak. Such connexions, Madam, would do me
-Was ever any thing so unlucky 1 [Aside.] and all my family great honour. I never dreamt
Is this possible, Madam, that I see you here?  of any scruples on that account.-What can I do q
Har. It is too true, Sir; and the occasion on -Let me see-let me see-suppose- [Pausing.
which I am now to trouble you, is so much in
need of an apology, that                       Enter MRS. OAKiL,Y behind, in a cupuchin,
Oak. Pray make none, Madam.   If my wife                   tippet, 4'c.
should return before I get her out of the house   Mrs. O. I am sure I heard the voice of a woagain!                              [Aside. man, conversing with my husband —Ha! [SeeHar. I dare say, Sir, you are not quite a stran- ing HARRIET.] It is so indeed! Let me contain
ger to the attachment your nephew has professed  myself-I'll listen.              [Aside.
to me.                                         Har. I see, Sir, you are not inclined to serve
Oak. I am not, Madam-I hope Charles has me-good Heaven! what am I reserved to?-,5ot been guilty of any baseness towards you. If Why, why did I leave my father's house, to exhe has, I'll never see his face again.       pose myself to greater distresses 1 [Ready to weep
UHa, I have no cause to accuse him.   But-   Oak. I would do any thing for your sake, in




sCENE nII.]               THE JEALOUS WIFE.                                       643
deed I would. So pray be comforted, and I'll   Mrs. O. I know it.
think of some proper place to bestow you in.   Oak. And since that, it seems, Charles has
MIrs. O. So! so!                   [Aside. been so fortunate as to —
Har. What place can be so proper as your own   Mrs. O. 0, you deceitful man! That trick is
house?                                      too stale to pass again with me. It is plain now
Oak. My dear Madam, I-I-                  what vou meant by your proposing to take her
Mrs. O. My dear Madam! Mighty well!    into thie house this morning. But the gentlewo[Aside. man could introduce herself, I see.
Oak. Hush!-hark!-what noise?-no, —no-    Oak. Fy! fy, my dear, she came on purpose to
thing. But I'll be plain with you, Madam; we inquire for you.
may be interrupted. The family consideration I   MArs. O. For me! better and better! Did not
hinted at is nothing else than my wife. She is a she watch her opportunity, and come to you just
little unhappy in her temper, Madam; and if you as I went out? But I am obliged to you for your
were to be admitted into the house, I don't know  visit, Madam.  It is sufficiently paid.  Pray,
what would be the consequence.               don't let me detain you.
Mrs. O. Very fine!               [Aside.   Oak. For shame! for shame! Mrs. Oakly!
Har. My behaviour, Sir!-                  How can you be so absurd? Is this proper beOak. My dear life, it would be impossible for haviour to a lady of her character?
you to behave in such a manner as not to give her   Mrs. O. I have heard her character. Co, my
suspicion.                                  fine, runaway Madam! Now you have eloped
Har. But if your nephew, Sir, took every thing from your family, and run- away from your aunt.
upon himself-                                Go! You sha'n't stay here, I promise you.
Oak. Still that would not do, Madam. Why,   Oak. Pr'ythee, be quiet. You don't know
this very morning, when the letter came from  what you are doing. She shall stay.
your father, though I positively denied any know-   Mrs. O. She sha'n't stay a minute.
ledge of it, and Charles owned it, yet it was al-   Oak. She shall stay a minute, an hour, a day,
most impossible to pacify her.               a week, a month, a year!'Sdeath, Madam, she
Har. What shall I do? What will become of me? shall stay for ever, if I choose.
Oak. Why lookye, my dear Madam, since my   Mrs. O. How!
wife is so strong an objection, it is absolutely im-   Har. For Heaven's sake, Sir, let me go, I am
possible for me to take you into the house. Nay, frightened to death.
if I had not known she was gone out, just before    Oak. Don't be afraid, Madam! She shall stay,
you came, I should be uneasy at your being here, I insist upon it.
even now. So we must manage as well as we   Rus. [ Within.] I tell you, Sir, I will go up. I
can. I'll take a private lodging for you a little am sure the lady is here, and nothing shall hinway off, unknown to Charles, or my wife, or any der me.
body; and if Mrs. Oakly should discover it at last,   Har. O, my father! my father!  [Faints.
why the whole matter will light upon Charles,   Oak. See! she faints! [Catches her.] Ring the
you know.                                    bell! Who's there?
Mrs. 0. Upon Charles!             [Aside.   Mrs. 0. What! take her into your arms too!
Har. How unhappy is my situation! [ Weep- I have no patience.
ing.] I am ruined for ever.
Oak. Ruined! not at all. Such a thing as this
has happened to many a young lady before you,   Rus. Where is this-ha! fainting! [Runs to
and all has been well again. Keep up your her.]  0, my dear Harriet! my child! my child!
spirits!  I'll contrive, if I possibly can, to visit   Oak. Your coming so abruptly shocked her
you every day.                              spirits. But she revives. How do you do, MaMrs. O. [Advances.] Will you so? 0, Mr. dam?
Oakly! have I discovered you at last?  I'll visit   Har. [To RUSSET.]' O, Sir!
you, indeed! And you, my dear Madam, I'll-     Rus. 0, my dear girl! how could you run away
Lar. Mada-m, I don't understand-          from your father, that loves you with such fondMrs. O. I understand the whole affair, and ness?  But I was sure I should find you herehave understood it for some time past. You shall I  lIrs. 0. There! there! sure he should find her
have a private lodging, Miss! It is the fittest here!  Did I not tell you so?. Are not you a
place for you, I believe. How dare you look me wicked man, to carry on such base underhand
in the face?                                doings, with a gentleman's daughter.?
Oak. For Heaven's sake, my love, don't be so   Rus. Let me tell you, Sir, whatever you may
violent. You are quite wrong in this affair-you  think of the matter, I shall not easily put up with
don't know who you are talking to. This lady is this behaviour. How durst you encourage my
a person of fashion.                         daughter to an elopement, and receive her in your
Mrs. 0. Fine fashion, indeed! to seduce other house q
women's husbands!                              Mrs. O. There, mind that! The thing is as
Har. Dear Madam, how can you imagine-    plain as the light.
Oak. I tell you, my dear, this is the young lady    Oak. I tell you, you misunderstandthat Charles-                                  Rus. Look you, Mr. Oakly, I shall expect saMrs. 0. Mighty well! but this wont (do, Sir! tisfaction from your family for so gross an affront.
Did not I hear you lay the whole intrigue to- Zounds, Sir, I am not to be used ill by any man
gether? Did not I hear your fine plot of throw- in England.
ing all the blame upon Charles? —             Har. My dear Sir, I can assure youOak. Nay, be cool a moment.  You must   Rus.' Hold your tongue, girl! You'll pit me
know, my dear, that the letter which came this in a passion.
morning related to this lady-                  Oak. Sir, this is all a mistake.




644                        THE JEALOTJS WIFE.                                 [ACT IV.
Rus. A mistake! Did not I find her in your girl! [Taking hold of her.] My life, my soul
house?                                      myOak. Upon my soul, she has not been in my   Rus. Let her go, Sir; come away, Harrietf
house above-                                 Leave him this instant, or I'll tear you asunder.
IMrs. O. Did not I hear you say, you would                                [Pulling her.
take her a lodging, a private lodging?         Har. There needs no violence to tear me from
Oak. Yes, but that-                       a man who could disguise himself in such a gross
Rus. Has not this affair been carried on a long manner, at a time when he knew I was in the uttime in spite of my teeth?                  most distress.
Oak. Sir, I never troubled myself-             [Disengages herself, and exit with RUSSET
Mrs. O. Never troubled yourself! Did not   Char. Only hear me, Sir!-Madam! my dear
you insist on her staying in the house, whether I Harriet-Mr. Russet-gone! she's gone! and
would or no.'egad, in very ill humour, and in very bad comOak. No.                                  pany! I'll go after her-but hold! I shall only
Rus. Did not you send to meet her, when she make it worse, as I did, now I recollect, once became to town?                               fore. How the devil came they here'?  Whc
Oak. No.                                  could have thought of finding her in my own
Mrs. O. Did not you deceive me about the house'  My head turns round with conjectures.
letter this morning!                         I believe I am drunk; very drunk: so'egad, I'll
Oak. No, no, no-I tell you, no.           e'en go and sleep myself sober, and then inquirR
MIrs. O. Yes, yes, yes-I tell you, yes.    the meaning of all this. For,
Rus. Sha'n't I believe my own eyes?            Ilove Sue, and Sue loves me, c4c.
2IMrs. O. Sha'n't I believe my own ears'                                 [Exit, singing.
Oak. I tell. you, you are both deceived.                   ACT IV.
Rus. Zounds, Sir, I'll have satisfaction.
Mrs. O. I'll stop these fine doings, I warrant     SCENE I.-OARLY'S House.
you.                                              Enter CHARLES and MAJOR OAKLY.
Oak.'Sdeath, you will not let me speak-and     Ente CHARLES and MAJOR OALY
you are both alike, I think. I wish you were   Maj. O. Poor Charles! what a scene of confuE
married to one another with all my heart.    sion! I would give the world to have been there.
Ars 0O. Mighty well! mighty well!            Char. And I would give the world to have been
Rus. I shall soon find a time to talk with you. any where else. May wine be my poison, if ever
Oak. Find a time to talk! you have talked I am drunk again!
enough now for all your lives.                 Maj. O..Ay, ay, so every man says the next
Mrs. O. Very fine! Come along, Sir! Leave morning.
that lady with her father. Now she is in the pro-   Char. Where, where can she be?  Her father
perest hands.                        [Exit.  would hardly carry her back to Lady Freelove's,
Oak. I wish I could leave you in his hands. and he has no house in town himself, or Sir Harry
[Going, returns.] One word with you, Sir! The -I don't know what to think. I'll go in search
height of your passion, and Mrs. Oakly's strange of her, though I don't know where to direct myself.
misapprehension of this whole affair, makes it im-         Enter WILLIAM.
possible to explain matters to you at present. I   Wil. A gentleman, Sir, that calls himself Cap,
will do it when you please, and how you please.  tain O'Cutter, desires to speak with you.
Rus. Yes, yes; I'll have satisfaction. So, Ma-   Char. Don't trouble me-I'll see nobody-I'm
dam! I have found you at last. You have made not at homea fine confusion here.                         Wil. The gentleman says he has very particuHar. I have indeed been the innocent cause of lar business, and he must see you.
a great deal of confusion.                     Chlar. What's his name? who did you say'
Rus. Innocent! Whatbusiness hadyouto be    Wil. Captain O'Cutter, Sir.
running hither after —-                        Char. Captain O'Cutter! I never heard of him
Ha.r. My dear Sir, you misunderstand the whole before. Do you know any thing of him, Major'?
affair. I have not been in this house half an hour.   Maj. O. Not I-But you hear he has particuRus. Zounds, girl, don't put me in a passion! lar business. I'll leave the room.
You know I love you; but a lie puts me in a pas-   Char. He can have no business that need be a
sion. But come along, we'll leave this house direct- secret to you. Desire the captain to walk up.
ly. [CHARLES sings without.] Hey-day! what now'?                         [E.xit WILLIAM.
4fter a noise without, enter CHARLES, drunk.         Enter CAPTAIN O'CUTTER.
Char. [Sings.] But my wine neither nurses    O'Cut. Jontlemen, your sarvant. Is either of
nor babies can bring,               your names Charles Oakly, Esq.?
And a big-bellied bottle's a mighty good thing.   Char. Charles Oakly, Sir, is my name, if you
What's here? a woman't Harriet! impossible! have any business with it.
My dearest, sweetest Harriet! I have been look-   O' Cut. Avast, avast, my dear! I have a little
ing all over the town for you, and at last, when I business with your name; but as I was to let nowas tired, and weary, and disappointed, why then body know it, I can't mention it till you clear the
the honest major and I sat down together to drink decks,'fait.   [Pointing to the MAJOR.
your health in pint bumpers.  [Running to her.   Char. This gentleman, Sir, is my most intiRPss. Stand off! how dare you take any liberty mate friend, and any thing that concerns me may
with my daughter before me?  Zounds, Sir, I'll be mentioned before him.
be the death of you.                           O'Cut. 0, if he's your friend, my dear, we
Char. Ha!'Squire Russet too! You jolly old may do all above board. It's only about your decock, how do you do?  But, Harriet! my dear ciding a difference with my Lord Trinket. He




CaNE I.]                  THE JEALOUS WIFE.'45
wants to show you a little warm work; and, as I   Char. Why, this dear, delightful, charming,
was steering this way, he desired me to fetch you blundering captain has delivered me a wrong
this letter.                  [Gives a letter. letter.
Maj. O. How, Sir, a challenge!               Maj. O. A wrong letter!
O'Cut. Yes, fait, a challenge. I am to be his   Char. Yes, a letter from Lord Trinket to Lady
lordship's second; and if you are fond of a hot Freelove.
birth, and will come along with that jontleman,   Maj. O. The devil! What are the contents?
we'll all go to it together, and make a little line   Char. The news I told you just now, that
of battle a-head of our own, my dear.        she's at an inn in Holborn: and, besides, an exChar. [Reads.] Ha! what's this?  This may cuse from my lord, for not waiting on her ladybe useful.                           [Aside. ship this morning according to his promise, as he.
M2Paj. O. Sir, I am infinitely obliged to you. A  shall be entirely taken up with his design upon
rare fellow this! [Aside.] Yes, yes, I'll meet all the Harriet.
good company. I'll be there in my waistcoat and   Maj. O. So, so!-A plot between the lord and
pumps, and take a morning's breathing with you. the lady.
Are you very fond of fighting, Sir          i  Char. There! read, read man!
O'Cut. Indeed, and I am; I love it better than                       [Giving the letter.
grog.                                          Maj. O. [Reading.]  Um-umrn-um-Very
Maj. O. But pray, Sir, how are you interested fine! And what do you propose doing 
in this difference? Do you know what it is about?   Char. To go thither immediately!
O'Cut. O, the devil burn me, not I. What   Maj. 0. Then you shall take me with you.
signifies what it's about, you know? so we do but Who knows what his lordship's designs may be?
tilt a little.                               I begin to suspect foul play.
7Maj. 0. What, fight, and not know for what?    Char. No, no; pray mind your own business.
O'Cut. When the signal's out for engaging, If I find there is any need of your assistanee, I'll
what signifies talking.                     send for you..Maj. 0. I fancy, Sir, a duel's a common break-  MA/j. O. You'll manage this affair like a boy,
fast with you. I'll warrant now, you have been now; go on rashly with noise and bustle, and
engaged in many such affairs.               fury, and get yourself into another scrape.
O'Cut. Upon my shoul, and I have; sea or   Char. No, no, let me alone; I'll go incog.
land, it's all one to little qTerence O'Cutter. Leave my chariot at some distance-Proceed pruWhen I was last in Dublin, I fought one jontle- dently, and take care of myself, I warrant you. I
man for cheating me out of a tousand pounds; I did not imagine that I should ever rejoice at refought two of the Mermaid's crew about Sally ceiving a challenge, but this is the most fortunate
Macguire; tree about politics; and one about the accident that could possibly have happened. B'ye,
playhouse in Smock: Alley. But upon my fait, b'ye, uncle!                   [Exit, hastily.
since I am in England, I have done nothing at   Maj. O. I don't half approve of this; and yet I
all, at all.                                 can hardly suspect his lordship of any very deep
Char. This is lucky-but my transport will designs neither. Charles may easily outwit him.
discover me. [Aside.] Will you be so kind, Sir, Harkye, William!
[To O'CUTTER.] as to make my compliments to             [Seeing WILLIAM at some distance,
his lordship, and assure him, that I shall do myself the honour of waiting on him.                       Re-enter WILLIAM.
O'Cut. Indeed, and I will. Arrah, my dear,
won't you come too?      [ To MAJOR OAKLY.  WTil. Sir!: Maj. 0. Depend upon it, captain. A very ex-   Maj. O. Where's my brother 
traordinary fellow!                  [Aside.  HWil. In his study, Sir.
Char. Now to get my intelligence. [Aside.l I   M/1aj. O. Is he alone? 
think, the time, Sir, his lordship appoints in his   Wil. Yes, Sir.
letter, is a-                                  Maj. 0. And how is he, William?
O'Cut. You say right. Six o'clock.           Wil. Pretty well. I believe, Sir.
Char. And the place-a-a-is-I think,   Maj. O. Ay, ay, but is he in a good humour, orbehind Montague-House?                         Wil. I never meddle in family affairs, not Is,
O'Cut. No, my dear!  Avast, by the ring in Sir.                                 [Exit.
Hyde-park, fait. I settled it there myself, for fare   Maj. O. Well said, William!-No bad hint
of interruption.                             for me, perhaps!-What a strange world we live
Char. True, as you say, the ring in Hyde- in! no two people in it love one another better than
park; I had forgot. Very well, I'll not fail you, my brother and sister, and yet the bitterest eneSir.                                         mies could not torment each other more heartily.
O' Cut. Devil burn me, nor I. Upon my shoul, — However, yesterday, to give him his due, he
little Terence O'Cutter will see fair play, or he'll behaved like a man. Keep it up, brother! keep
know the reason; and so, my dear, your sarvant. it up! or it's all over with you. Some mischief
You'll not forget to come, my dear.   [Exit. is on foot, I'll even set forwards on all sides. I'll
/IMaj. O. Ha, ha, ha! What a fellow!-He in to him directly, read him one of my morning lecloves fighting like a game cock.             tures, and persuade him, if I possibly can, to go
Char. 0 uncle! the luckiest thing in the world! out with me immediately; or work him to some
Maj. 0. What, to have the chance of being run open act of rebellion against the sovereign authothrough the body? I desire no such good fortune., rity of his lady wife. Zounds, brother! rant and
Char. Wish me joy, wish me joy! I have roar, and rave, and turn the house out of the winfound her, my dear girl, my Harriet! She is at dow. If I was a husband! —'Sdeath, what a
an inn in WHolborn, major!                   pity it is that nobody knows how to manage a
ilIaj. 0. Ay, how do you know?             wife but a bachelor.          -         x>it




646                        THE. JEALOUS WIFE.                                  [ACT rv.
SCENE II.-The Bull and Gate Inn.    I Har. And if their wretches of husbands liked
Enter HARRIET.                 them half so well as they do their horses, they
Har. What will become of me?  Among all would lead better lives.
Sir H. Mayhap so. But what signifies talkmy distresses, I must confess that Charles's be- i r     Th Mayhap s hallknowyourtricks.
haviour yesterday is not the least. So wild! so ing to you     
given up to excesses! And yet, I am ashamed  He'lldoctor you. I'llgo andtalktohim.
to own it even to myself,-I love him; and death.    any where, so that you go from me
itself shall not prevail on me to give my hand to    Sir I He'll break you in. Ifyouwontgoin
Sir Harry. But here he comes! What shall I a snaffle, you must be put in a curb. He'll break
do with him  you, damme.                                                           [Exit
Har. A wretch! But I was to blame to suffen
Enter SIR HARRY BEAGLE.             his brutal behaviour to ruffle my temper. I could
Sir H. Your servant, Miss!  What; not expect nothing else from him, and he is below my
speak!  Bashful, mayhap. Why then I will. anger.
Lookye, Miss, I am a man of few words. What                 Ente R
signifies haggling'! it looks just like a dealer.
What d'ye think of me for a husband? I am a   Rus. Are not you a sad giIl! a perverse, stubtight young fellow; sound wind and limb; free born, obstinatefrom all natural blemishes; rum all over, damme.   Har. My dear Sir —Har. Sir, I don't understand you. Speak Eng-   Bus. Lookye, Harriet, don't speak, you'll put
lish, and I'll give you an answer.           me in a passion. Will you have him'  Answer
Sir H. English!  Why so I do; and good methat. Whydon'tthe girlspeak'!  Willyou
plain English too. What d'ye think of me for a have him?
husband? That's English-e'nt it?-I know    Har. Dearest Sir, there is nothing in the world
none of your French lingo, none of your parly.- elsevoos, not I. What d'ye think of me for a hus-   Rus. Why  there, there!  Lookye there!
band? The'squire says you shall marry me.    Zounds, you shall have him. Hussy you shall
Har. What shall I say to him'  I had best be have him. You shall marry him to-night. Did
civil. [Aside.] I think, Sir, you deserve a much  not you promise to receive him civilly? H-ow
better wife, and beg-                        came you to affront him?
Sir H. Better! No, no, though you're so   Har. Sir, I did receive him very civilly; but his
knowing, I'm not to be taken in so. You're a behaviour was so insolent and insupportable.
fine thing. Your points are all good.          Rus. Insolent! Zounds, I'll blow his brains
Har. Sir Harry! Sincerity is above all cere- out. Insolent to my dear Harriet!  A rogue, a
mony. Excuse me, if I declare I never will be villain, a scoundrel! I'll-but it's a lie-I know,
your wife.                                 - it's a lie.-He durst not behave insolent. Will
Sir H. Hey! how! what, be off! Why, it's a you have him'  Answer me that. Will you
match, Miss!-It's done, and done on both  have him?  Zounds, you shall have him.
sides.                                         Har. If you have any love for me, SirHar. For Heaven's sake, Sir, withdraw your   Rus. Love for you! You know I love you.
claim to me. I never can be prevailed on; in- You know your poor fond father dotes on you to
deed I can't.                                madness. I would not force you, if I did not love
Sir H. What, make a match and then draw  you. Don't I want you to be happy'! But I
stakes! That's doing of nothing. Play or pay know what you would have. You want young
all the world over.                          Oakly, a rakehelly, drunkenHar. I am determined not to marry you, at ali   Har. Release me from Sir Harry, and if I ever
events.                                      marry against your consent, renounce me for ever.
Sir H. But your father's determined you shall,   Rus. I will renounce you, unless you'll have
Miss. So the odds are on my side. I am not Sir Harry.
quite sure of my horse, but I have the rider hollow.   Har. Consider, my dear Sir, you'll make me
Har. Your horse! Sir, d'ye take me for; but I miserable. Absolve me from this hard command,
forgive you. I beseech you, come into my pro- and in every thing else it will be happiness to
posal. It will be better for us both in the end.   obey you.
Sir H. I can't be off.                       Rus. You'll break my heart, Harriet, you'll
Har. Let me entreat you.                   break my heart. Make you miserable! Don't I
Sir H. I tell you, it's impossible.       want to make you happy'? Is not he the richest
Har. Pray, pray, do, Sir.                  man in the county?  That will make you happy.
Sir H. I can't, damme.                     Don't all the pale-faced girls in the country long
Har. I beseech you. [SIR HARRY whistles.] to get him? And yet you are so perverse, and
HIow! laughed at?                            wayward, and stubborn.  Zounds, you shall
Sir H. Will you marry me, dear Ally, Ally have him.
Croker?                          [Singing.   Har. For Heaven's sake, SirHar. Marry you! I had rather be married to a   Rus. Hold your tongue, Harriet!  I'll hear
slave, a wretch-  You!         [Walks about. none of your nonsense. You shall have him, I
Sir H. A fine going thing. She has a deal of tell you, you shall have him. He shall marry
foot-treads well upon her pasterns —goes you this very night. I'll go for a license and a
above her ground.                            parson immediately. Zounds, why do I stand
Har. Peace, wretch!  Do you talk to me as arguing with you? An't I your father? Have not
if I were your horse?                       I a right to dispose of you' You shall have him.
Cir H. Horse! Why not speak of my horse!   Ha.r. Sir!
If your fine ladies had half as many good quali-   Rus. I wont hear a word. You shall have
ties, they would be much better bargains.      him.                                [Exit.




SCE.NE I.]                THE  JEALOUS  WIFE.                                      647
Har. Sir! YHear me! but one word! He will nearer, vou have a brace of balls through you.
not hear me, and is gone to prepare for this odious lordship's head.
marriage. I will die before I consent to it.   Lord T. How! what's this 1 pistols!
Enter CHARLES, in afrock, 4-c.          Char. At your lordship's service.  Sword anc:
pistol, my lord.-Those, you know, are our wea,
Ha! What do I see,            [Screaming,. pons. If this misses, I have the fellow to it in my
Char. Peace, my love! My dear life, make no  pocket. Don't be frightened, Madam. His lordnoise!  I have been hovering about the house ship has removed your friends and relations, but
this hour. I just now saw your father and Sir he will take great care of you. Shall I leave you
Harry go out, and have seized this precious op- with him.
portunity to throw myself at your feet.        Har. Cruel Charles! you know I must go with
Har. You have given yourself, Sir, a great you now.
deal of needless trouble. I did not expect or hope    Char. A little way from the door, if your lordfor the favour of such a visit.              ship pleases.               [ tWaves his hand.
Char. 0, my Harriet, upbraid me, reproach   Lord T. Sir!-'Sdeath!-Madam!me, do any thing but look and talk with that air   Char. A little more round, my lord. [ Waves.
of coldness and indifference. Let me, while their   Lord T. But, Sir! Mr. Oakly!
absence allows it, convey you from the brutal vi-   Char. I have no leisure to talk with your lordolence of a constrained marriage.            ship now. A little more that way, if you please.
HAi. No, I will wait the event, be it what it [Waves.] You know where I live. If you have
may; Oh, Charles, I am too much inclined-they  any commands for Miss Russet, you will hear of
sha'n't force me to marry Sir Harry-but your her too at my house. Nay, keep back, my lord.
behaviour-Not half an hour ago, my father re- [Presents.] Your lordship's most obedient, humproached me with the looseness of your character. ble servant.        [Exit with HARRIET.
[ Weeping.   Lord T. [Looks at them, and pauses for a short
Char. I see my folly, and am ashamed of it;-  time.] I cut a mighty ridiculous figure here,'pon
you have reclaimed me, Harriet, on my soul you honour.                              [Exit.
have. If all women were as attentive as yourself
to the morals of their lovers, a libertine would be            ACT V.
an uncommon character. But let me persuade       SCENE I.-LADY FREELOVE'S House.
you to leave this place while you may. Major
Oakly will receive us at his house with pleasure. Enter LORD TRINKET, LADY FREELOVE, with a
I am shocked at the thoughts of what your stay      letter, and CAPTAIN O'CUTTER.
here may reserve you to.                       Lord T. Was ever any thing so unfortunate!
lar. No, I am determined to remain. To leave Plague on't, captain, how could you make such a
my father again, to go off openly with a man, of strange blunder?
whose libertine character he has himself so lately    O'Cut. I never thought of a blunder. I was to
been a witness, would justify his anger, and im- deliver two letters; and if I gave them one a piece,
peach my reputation.                         I thought it would do.
Enter CHAMBERIMAID.                Lady F. And so, my lord, the ingenious captain gave the letter intended for me to young
C7izmb. 0 law, Ma'am! Such a terrible acci- Oakly, and here has brought me a challenge.
dent! As sure as I am here, there's a pressgang   Lord T. Ridiculous!  Never was any thing
has seized the two gemmin, and is carrying them  so malapropos. Did you read the direction, capaway, thof so be one an'em says as how he's a tain?
knight and baronight, and that t'other's a'squire    O'Cut. Who, me'  Devil burn me, not I. I
and a housekeeper.                           never rade at all.
Har. Seized by a pressoang! impossible!    Lord T.'Sdeath! how provoking! When I
Char. Oh, now the design comes out. But had secured the servants, and got all the people
I'll balk his lordship.                      out of the way-when every thing was en train.
Chamb. Lack-a-daisy, Ma'am, what can we do'    Lady F. Nay, never despair, my lord! I've hit
There is master, and John Hostler, and Boot- upon a method to set every thing to rights again.
catcher, all gone a'ter'em. There is such an   Lord T. How 1 how' my dear Lady Freelove,
uproar as never was!                  [Exit. how'
Har. If I thought this was your contrivance,   Lady F. Suppose then your lordship was to go
Sir, I would never speak to you again.       and deliver these country gentlemen from their
Char. I would sooner die than be guilty of it. confinement: make them believe it was a plot of
This is Lord Trinket's doing, I am sure. I knew  young Oakly's to carry off my niece; and so make
he had some scheme in agitation, by a letter I in- a merit of your own services with the father.
tercepted this morning. [IARRIET screams.] Ha!   Lord T.  Adnmirable!  I'll about it immehere he comes. Nay, then, it's plain enough. diately.
Don't be frightened, my love! I'll protect you.   O'Cut. Has your lordship any occasion for my
But now I must desire you to follow my directions. sarvice in this expedition 1
Lord T. O, no. Only release me these people,
and then keep out of thle way, dear captain.
Lord T. Now, Madam.-Pox on't, he here    O'Cut. With all my heart, fait. But you are
again! Nay then. [Draws.] come, Sir! You're all wrong: this will not signify a brass farding.
unarmed, I see. Give up the lady; give her up, I If you would let me alone, I would give him a salt
say, or I am through you in a twinkling.     eel, I warrant you. But upon my credit, there's
[Going to make a pass at CHARLES. noting to be done without a little tilting.    [Exit.
Char. Keep your distance, my lord! I have   Lord 7'. But where shall I carrv them, wh;n
arms. [Produces a pistol.] If you come a foot I have delivered thema



648                        THE JEALOUS WIFE.                                   [ACT Y.
Lady F. To Mr. Oakly's, by all means; you   Par. I dress him-Je ne m'en soucie pas dvx
may be sure my niece is there.               plus-He go where he will; I have no business
Lord T. To Mr. Oakly's! Why. does your with it.
ladyship consider?.'Tis going directly in the fire   Mrs. O. Yes, you should have told me-that
of the enemy-throwing the dementi full in their was your business; and if you don't mind your
teeth.                                       business better, you sha'n't stay here, I promise
Lady F. So much the better. Face your ene- you, Sir.
mies; nay, you shall outface them too. I'll cer-   Par. Voila quelque chose d'extraordinaire-!
tainly meet you there. It's hard indeed if two   Mrrs. O. Don't stand jabbering and shrugging
persons of condition can't bear themselves out your shoulders, but go and inquire; go, and bring
against such trumpery folks as the family of the me word where he is gone.
Oaklys.                                        Par. I don't know what I am do.
Lord T. Odious low people! But I lose time;   Mirs. O. Bid John come to me.
I must after the captain; and so, till we meet at   Par. De tout mon cceur. Jean! ici! Jean!
Mr. Oakly's, I kiss your ladyship's hands-you speak, my ladi.                      [Exit.
wont fail me?                                 Mrs. O. Impudent fellow! His insolent graLady F. You may depend on me. [Eexit LORD vity and indifference is insupportable. Toilet!
TRINKET.] So, here is fine work! this artful lit-   Toil. Ma'am.
tie hussy has been too much for us all. Well,   Mrs. O. Where's John? Why don't he come?
what's to be done?'  Why, when a woman of Why do you stand with your hands before you?
fashion gets into a scrape, nothing but a fashion- Why don't you fetch him?
able assurance can get her out of it again. I'll   Toil. Yes, Ma'am, I'll go this minute.-O,
e'en go boldly to Mr. Oakly's, as I have promised, here, John; my lady wants you.
and if it appears practicable, I will forward Lord           Enter JOHN.
Trinket's match; but if I find that matters have
taken another turn, his lordship must excuse me.   Mrs. O. Where's your master?
In that case I'll fairly drop him, seem a perfect   John. Gone out, Madam.
sftanger to all his intentions, and give my visit an   Mrs. O. Why did not you go with him?
air of congratulation to my niece and any other  ~John. Because he went out in the major's chahusband, which fortune, her wise father, or her riot, Madam.
ridiculous self, has provided for her.  [Exit    Mrs. O. Where did they go to?
SCEN1VE II.-MRS. OARLY'S LDressing-room.     John. To the major's, I suppose, Madam.
AIrs. O. Suppose!  Don't you know?
Enter MRS. OAKLY.                 John. I believe so, but can't tell for certain,
lMrs. O. This is worse and worse! He never indeed, Madam.
held me so much in contempt before. To go out   Mrs. O. Believe and suppose I and don't know,
without speaking to me, or taking the least no- and can't tell! You are all fools. Go about
tice. I am obliged to the major for this. How  your business. [JOHN going.] Come here. [Recould he take him out? and how could Mr. Oakly turns.] Go the major's-no-it does not signify,
go with him?-                                go along. [JOHN going.] Yes, harkye, [Returns.]
Enter TOILET.                 go to the major's, and see if your master is there.
WVell, Toilet.                                 John. Give your compliments, Madam?
Toil. My master is not come back yet, Ma'am  Mrs. O. My compliments, blockhead!  Get
ilrs. 0. Where is he gone?                 along. [JOHN going.] Come hither. [Returns.]
Toil. I don't know, I can assure your ladyship  Can't you go the major's, and bring me word if
Mrs. O. Why don't you know.  You know  Mr. Oakly is there, without taking any further
nothing. But I warrant you know well enough, notice 
Mn John. Yes, Ma'am.
if you would tell. You shall never persuade me   John. Yes, Ma'am.
but you knew of Mr. Oakly's going out to-day.  Mrs.. Well, why don't you go the n  An d
Toil. I wish I may die, Ma'am, upon my ho- make haste back.  And, d'ye hear, John
nour, and I protest to your ladyship I knew no-                     [JOHN going, returns.
thing in the world of the matter, no more than   John. Madam!
the child unborn. There is Mr. Paris, my mas-   lMrs O. Nothing at all, go along. [JOHN goes l
ter's gentleman, knows —                     How uneasy Mr. Oakly makes me! Harkye,
ilrs. T. What does he know'-J
7hMrs. O. What does he know? qJohn!                                     [JOHN returns.
Toil. That I knew nothing at all of the matter.   John. Madam i
Mrs. O. Where is Paris? What is he doing I   Mrs. O. Sendthe porter here.
Toil. He is in my master's room, Ma'am.     John. Yes, Madam.                   [Exit.
Toil. So she's in a rare humour! I shall have
irs. 0. Bid him'ome here.
Toil. Yes, Ma'am.                  [Exit. 1 a fine time on't. [Aside.] Will your ladyship
Mrs. O. He is certainly gone after this young'choose to dress?
flirt. His confidence and the major's insolence. Pr'ythee creature don't tease me with
provoke me beyond expression.                your fiddle-faddle stuff. I have a thousand things
to think of. Where is the porter? Why has
not that booby sent him? What is the meaningWhere's your master?e-enter JON.
Par. II est sorti. He is gone out.
l Mrs. O. Where is he gone?                 John. Madam, my master is this moment rePar. Ah, M/ladame, je n'en spai rien. I know  turned with Major Oakly, and my young master,
nothing of it.                               and the lady that was here yesterday.
lMrs. 0. Nobody krnovs any thing. Why did   Mrs. O. Very well. [Exit JOHN.] Returnednot you tell me he was going out? -          yes, trulv he is returned-and in a very extraor



SCENE II.]       ~        THE   JEALO US  WIFE.                                    649
dinary manner. This is setting me at open de-   Rus. [Without.] Here!  Yes, yes, I know
fiance. But I'll go down, and show them I have she s here well enough. Come along, Sir Harry,
too much spirit to endure such usage. [Going.] come along.
Or, stay-I'll not go amongst his company-I'11   Har. He's here:! My father! I know his
go out —Toilet!                              voice. Where is Mr. Oakly.   O, now, good
Toil. Ma'am!                               Sir, [To the MAJOR.] do but pacify him, and
Murs. O. Order the coach; I'll go out.. [TOILET  you'll be a friend indeed.
going.] Toilet, stay-I'll e'en go down to them- 
NUo-1`oilet!                               Enter RUSSET, LORD TRINKET, and SIR HAR~RY
No-Toilet!                                                    BEAGLE.
Toil. Ma'am!
lMrs. O. Order me a boiled chi6ken-I'll not go   Lord T. There, Sir-I told you it was so!
down to dinner. I'll dine in my own room, and    Rus. Ay, ay, it is too plain. O you provoking
sup there. I'll not see his face these three days.  slut! Elopement after elopement! And at last
[Exeunt. to have your father carried off by violence! to enEnter OAKLY, MAJOR OAELY, CHARLES, and   danger my life! Zounds! I am so angry I dare
HARRIET.                    not trust myself within reach of you.
Char. My dear Harriet, do not make yourself    Char. I can assure you, Sir, that your daugh~~~~~~~so unea~~~ter is entirelyas have too much cause for my un- Rus. You assure me' You are the fellow
Hat. Alas! I have too much cause for my uneasiness. Who knows what tavielrhsthat vile lor has tht has perverted her mind-That has set up my
done with my father Iown child against meOak. Be comforted, Madam; we shall soon    Char. If you will but hear me, Sir.
hear of Mr. Russet, and all will be well, I dare    Rus. I wont hear a word you say. I'll have
~~~~~~~~say.'          v        my daughter; I wont hear a word.
Ilar. You are too good to me, Sir; I shall never   Maj. 0. Nay, Mr. Russet, hear reason. If you
forgive myself for having disturbed the peace of will but have patience.
such a worthy family.                          Rus. I'll have no patience, I'll have mry daughMaj. 0. Don't mirnd that, Madam; they'll be ter, and she shall marry Sir Harry to-night.
very good friends again. Thisis nothing among    Lord T. That is dealing rather too much en
married people.'Sdea       is noth! here she isng among cavalier with me, Mr. Russet,'pon honour. You
only Mrs. Toilet.'   take no notice of my pretensions, though my rank
and familyRe-enter TOILET.                 Rus. What care I for rank and family? I
Oak. Well, Toilet, what now    [ToILET  don't want to make nmy daughter a rantipole wowhispers.] not well? Can't come down to dinner? man of quality.  ['11 give her to whom 1 please.
Wants to see me above? Harkye, brother, what Take her away, Sir Harry; she shall marry you
shall I do?                                  to-night.
Maj. 0. If you go, you are undone.           MIaj. O. Only three words, Mr. Russet.
Har. Go, Sir, go to Mrs. Oakly. Indeed you    Rus. Why don't the booby take her?
had better —                                   Sir H. Hold hard! hold hard! You are all
Maaj. 0.'Sdeath, brother, don't budge a foot. on a wrong scent; hold hard, I say, hold hard!
This is all fractiousness and ill humour.    Harkye,'Squire Russet.
Oak. No, I'll not go. Tell her I have compa-   Rus. Well. what now?
nty, and we shall be glad to see her here.     Sir H. It was proposed, you know; to match
[Exit TOILET. me with Miss Harriet: but she can't take kindly
Maj. O. That's right.                     to me. When one has made a bad bet, it is best
Oak. Suppose I go and watch how she pro- to hedge off, you know; and so I have e'en swopceeds?                                      ped her with Lord Trinket here for his brown
Maj. O. What d'ye mean? You would not go horse, Nabob.
to her?  Are you mad?                          Rus. Swopped her? swopped my daughter for
Oak. By no means go to her; I only want to a horse! Zounds, Sir, what d'ye mean'?
know how she takes it. I'll lie perdue in my    Sir H. Mean   Why I mean to be off, to be
study, and observe her motions.              sure. It wont do; I tell you it wont do. First of
lMaj. O. I don't like this pitiful ambuscade all, I knocked up myself and my horses, when
work-this bush fighting. Why can't you stay they took for London; and now I have been
here?  Ay, ay! I know how it will be. She'll stewed aboard a tender. I have wasted three
come bounce in upon you with a torrent of anger stone at least. If I could have rid my match, it
and passion, or, if necessary, a whole flood of would not have grieved me. And so, as I said
tears, and carry all before her at once.     before, I have swopped her for Nabob.
Oak. You shall find that you are mistaken,   Rus. The devil take Nabob and yourself, and
major. Now I am convinced I'm in the right, Lord Trinket, a.nd —
I'll support that right with ten times your steadi-   Lord T. Pardon! ji  vous dema7tde pardon,
ness.                                        Monsieur Russet,'pon honour.
MVaj. O. You talk this well, brother.        Rus. Death and the devil; I shall go distracted I
Oak. I'll do it well, brother.             My daughter plotting against me-the —
lfa;j. 0. If you don't, you are undone.    MIoaj O. Come, come, Mr. Russet, 1 am youi
Oak. Never fear, never fear.       [Exit. man after all. Give me but a moment's hearing,
Maj. O. Well, Charles.                     and I'll engage to make peace between you anr
Char. I can't bear to see my Harriet so uneasy. your daughter, and throw the blame where it
I'll go immediately in quest of Mr. Russet. Per- ought to fall most deservedly.
haps I may learn at the inn where his lordship's   Sir H. Ay, ay, that's right. Put the saddle ou
ruffians have carried him.                   the right horse. my buck!
VOL. I.. 4 N       X.5




650                        THE JEALOUS WIFE.                                   [Ac Pr
Rur Well, Sir; what d'ye say? Speak. I My dear, I give you joy-and you, Mr. Oakly.-.
don't know what to do.                       I wish you joy, Mr. Russet, and all the good comnMaj. O. I'll speak the truth, let who will be pany-for I think the most of them are parties
offended by it. I have proof presumptive and concerned.
positive for you, Mr. Russet. From his lordship's   Maj. 0. How easy, impudent, and familiar.
behaviour at Lady Freelove's, when my nephew                                      [Aside.
rescued her, we may fairly conclude that he would   Lady F. Lord Trinket here too! I vow I did
stick at no measures to carry his point; there's not see your lordship before.
proof presumptive. But, Sir, we can give you   Lord T. Your ladyship's most obedient slave.
proof positive too; proof under his lordship's own                              [Bowing.
hand, that he likewise was the contriver of the   Lady F. Ybu seem grave, my lord! Come,
gross affront that has just been offered you.  come, I know there has been some difference beRus. Hey! how?                            tween you and Mr. Oakly-You must give me
Lord 71  Every syllable romance,'pon honour. leave to be a mediator in this affair.
Maj. O. Gospel, every word on't.             Lord T. Here has been a small fracas, to be
Char. This letter will convince you, Sir! In sure, Madam!-We are all blown,'pon honour.
consequence of what happened at Lady Free-   Lady F. Blown! what do you mean, my lord?
love's, his lordship thought fit to send me a chal-   Lord T. Nay, your ladyship knows that I
lenge; but the messenger blundered, and gave me never mind these things, and I know that they
this letter instead of it. [ Giving the letter.] I have never discompose your ladyship-But things have
the case which enclosed it in my pocket.     happened a little en travers-The little billet I
Lord T. Forgery from beginning to end,'pon sent your ladyship has fallen into the hands of
honour.                                     that gentleman-[Pointing to CIIARLEs.]-and
Mapj. O. Truth, upon my honour. But read, so there has been a little brouillerie about itread, Mr. Russet, read and be convinced.     that's all.
Rus. Let me see, let me see. [Reads.] Um, um,   Lady F. You talk to me, my lord, in a very
um; so, so; um, um, um, damnation! Wish me extraordinary style-If you have been guiltv of
success, —obedient slave-TRINKET.  Fire and any misbehaviour, I am sorry for it; but your ill
fury! How dare you do this 1                 conduct can fasten no imputation on me-Miss
Lord T. WVhen you are cool, Mr. Russet, I Russet will justify me sufficiently.
will explain this matter to you.               Mlaj. O. Had not your ladyship better appeal
Rus. Cool!'Sdeath and hell!  I'll never be to my friend Charles here? —The letter, Charles!
cool again! I'll be revenged. So, my Harriet, -Out with it this instant.
my dear girl, is innocent at last. Say so, my    Char. Yes, I have the credentials of her ladyHarriet; tell me you are innocent. [Embraces her. ship's integrity in my pocket. —M —r. Russet, tihe
iar. I am indeed, Sir, and happy beyond ex- letter you read a little while ago, was enclosed in
pression at your being convinced of it.     this cover, which also I now think it my duty to
Rus. I am glad on't —  am glad on't-I believe put into your hands.
fou Harriet!-You was always a good girl.      Rus. [Reading.] T'o the Right Honourable
Maj. O. So she is, an excellent girl!-Worth  Lady Freelove. —'Sdeath and hell!-and now
a regiment of such lords and baronets-Come, I recollect, the letter itself was pieced with scraps
Sir, finish every thing handsomely at once.-  of French, and Madam, and your ladyship-Fire
Come, Charles will have a handsome fortune.    and fury, Madam! how came you to use me so?
Nus. Marry!-she durst not do it.          I am obliged to you, then, for the insult that has
Maj. O. Consider, Sir, they have long been been offered me!
fond of each other-old acquaintance-faithful   Lady F. What is all this?  Your obligations
lovers-turtles-and may be very happy.        to me, Mr. Russet, are of a nature, thatRus. WVell, well-since things are so —I   Rus. Fine obligations! TI dare say, I am partly
love my girl.-H-arkye, young Oakly, if you don't obliged to you for the attempt on my daughter by
make her a good husband, you'll break my heart, that thing of a lord yonder at your house. Zounds,
you rogue.                                   Madam, these are injuries never to be forgivenMaj. O. I'll cut his throat, if he don't.  they are the grossest affronts to me and my faChar. Do not doubt it, Sir; my Harriet has mily-all the world shall know them —Zounds!
reformed me altogether.                      -I'll —
Rus. Has she?-Vhy then-there-Heaven    Lady F. Mercy on me! how boisterous are
bless you both-there-now there's an end on't. these country gentlemen: Why, really, Mr. RusSir H. So, my lord, you and I are both dis-  set, you rave like a man in Bedlam-I am afraid
tanced-A hollow thing, damme.                you'll beat me-and then you swear most abomiLord T. N'importe.                        nably.- How can you be so vulgar.- I see
Sir H. Now this stake is drawn, my lord may the meaning of this low malace-But the reputabe for hedging off, mayhap. Ecod! I'll go to tions of women of quality are not so easily imJack Speed's, secure Nabob, and be out of town peached-My rank places me above the scandal
in an hour.                 [Aside, and exit. of little people, and I shall meet such petty insoEnter LADY FREELOVE.              lence with the greatest ease and tranquillity. But
you and your simple girl will be sufferers. — I
Lady F. My dear Miss Russet, you'll ex- had some thoughts of introducing her into the
cusea                                       first company.-But now, Madam, I shall neither
Char. Mrs. Oakly, at your ladyship's service.  receive nor return your visits, and will entirely
Lady F. Married!                           withdraw my protection from the ordinary part
HarI. Not yet, Madam; but my father has been of the family.                      [Exit.
go good as to give his consent.                Rus. Zounds, what impudence! that's worse
Lady F. I protest I am prodigiously glad of it. than all the rest.




CE:NE I.L                  T -IE  J EEALOUS  WIFE.                                 m61
Lord T. Fine presence of mind, faith!-The    Oak. My dear, consider where you are-'rue French nonchalance-'-But, good folks, why    Mrs. 0. You would be glad, I find, to get me out
such a deal of rout and tapage about nothing at of your house, and have all your flirts about you.
all?   If Mademoiselle Harriet had rather be   Oak. Before all this company! fy!
Mrs. Oakly than Lady Trinket-Why, I wish   Mrs. 0. But I'll disappoint you, for I shall rener joy-that's all.-Mr. Russet, I wish you joy main in it, to support my due authority-as for
of your son-in-law-Mr. Oakly, I wish you joy you, Major Oakly
of the lady-and you, Madam, [ 7'  HARRIET'.]  2l/aj. 0.  Hey-day! what have I done?
of the gentleman —And, in short, I wish you   sMrs. O. I think you might find better employ
all joy of one another,'pon honour.  [Exit. ment, than to create divisions between marries
Pus. There's a fine fellow of a lord now!,The people —and you, Sir!devil's in your. London folks of the first fashion,   Oak. Nay but, my dear! —
as you call them. They will rob you of your   Mrs. O. Might have more sense as well as
estate, debauch your daughter, or lie with your tenderness, than to give ear to such idle stuff.
wife-and all as if they were doing you a favour   Oak. Lord, Lord!
-'pon honour!-                                M lUrs. O. You and your wise counsellor there, I
Maj. O.. Hey! what now-?                  suppose, think to carry all your points with me —
[Bell rings violently.   Oak. Was ever any thingRe-enter OAKLY.                  Mrs. O. But it wont do, Sir. You shall find
OGak. D'ye hear, major, d'ye hear 2        that I will have my own way, and that I will goMaj. O. Zounds! what a clatter!   She'll vern my own family.
pull down all the bells in the house.           Oak. You had better learn to govern yourself,'
Oak. My observations since I left you, have by half. Your passion makes you ridiculous.
confirmed my resolution. I see plainly thaot her Did ever any body see so much fury and violence;
good humour, and her ill humour, her smiles, her affronting your best friens, breaking my peace
tears, an  her fits, are all calculated to play upon and disconcerting your own temper. And all for
me,                                          what? for nothing.'Sdeath, Madam! at these
1Maj. O. Did not I always tell you so? It's the years you ought to know better.
way with them  all  they will be rough and  Mlrs. O. At these years!-Verv fine!-Am
smooth, and hot and cold, and all in a breath. I to be talked to in this manner 2
Any thing to get the better of us.              Oak. Talked to!-Why not? —You have
Oak. She is in all moods at present, I promise talked to me long enough-almost talked me to
you-There has she been in her chamber, fuming death-and I have taken it all, in hopes of making
and fretting, and dispatching a messenger to me you quiet-but all in vain. Patience, I find, is
every two minutes-servant after.servant-now  all thrown away upon you; and henceforwarl,
she insists on my coming to her-now again she come what may, I am resolved to be master of ny
writes a note to entreat-then Toilet is sent to own house.
let me know that she is ill, absolutely dying- SMrs..  So, so! —Master, indeed!  Yeb,
then the very next minute, she'll never see mySir; anyou'll   care to have mistresses enough
face again —she'll go out of the house directly. too, warrant you.
[Bell rings.] Again! now the storm rises!-    Oak. Perhaps I may; but they shall be quiet
/Iaj. O. It will soon drive this way then —ones, I can assure you.
now, brother, prove yourself a man-You have   Mrs. O. Indeed!-And do you think I am such
gone too far to retreat. h                   a tame fool, as to sit quietly and bear all this begOak. etreat!-Retreat!-no, no-I'll pre- haviour-. You shall find that I have a spirit-.serve the advantage I have gained, I am deter-   Oak. Ofthe devil.
mined.                                              0 rs. O. Intolerable!-You shall find then that
1maj. O. Ay, ay! -keep your ground!-fear I will exert that spirit. I am sure I have need of
nothing-. Ayup with your noble heart!-Good  dis- it. As soon as the house is once cleared again,
cipline makes good soldiers; stick close to my ad-oors against all company-You
vice, and you may stand buff to a tigress-   sha'n't see a single soul for this month.
Oak. Here she is, by Heavens! now, brother!    Oak.'Sdeath, Madam, but I will!-I'll keep.laj. 0. And now, brother!-Now or never!  open house for a year.-I'll send cards to the
whole town-Mr. Oakly's rout!-All the world
will come-and I'll go among the world too-I'll
Mrs. O. I think, Mr. Oakly, you might have be mewed up no longer.
had humanity enough to have come to see how I   Mrs. O. Provoking insolence! this is not to be
did. You have taken your leave, I suppose, of all endured   Lookye, Mr. Oakly
tenderness and affection-but I'll be calm-I'll   Oak. And lookye, Mrs. Oakly, I will have my
not throw myself into a passion-You want to own way.
drive me out of your house-I see what you:Mrs. O. Nay, then, let me tell you, Siraim at, and will be aforehand with you-let me    Oak. And let me tell you, Madam, I will not
keep my temper! I'll send for a chair, and leave be crossed-I wont be made a fool.
the house this instant.                        iMrs. O. Why, you wont let me speak.
Oak. True, my love: I knew you would not   Oak. Because you don't speak as you ought.
think of dining in your chamber alone, when I Madam, Madam! you sha'n't look, nor walk, nor
had company below. You shall sit at the head talk, nor think, but as I please.
of the table, as you ought, to be sure, as you say,   Mrs. O. Was there ever such a monster! I
and make my friends welcome.                 can bear this no longer. [Bursts into tears.] 0
Mrs. O. Excellent raillery!  Lookye, Mr. you vile man! I can see through your design —
Oakly, I see the meaning of all this affected cool- you cruel, barbarous, inhuman-such usage to
ness and indifference.                       your poor wife! -you'll be the death of her.




652                        THE JEALOUS WIFE.                                    [ACTrV.
Oak. She sha'n't be the death of me, 1 am de- should find my young Madam with my young
kermined.                                    Sir here.
Mirs. O.. That it should ever come to this!   Mrs. 0. With Charles, did you say, Sir?
-To be contradicted-[Sobbing.]-insulted-    Rus. Ay, with Charles, Madam. The young
abused-hated-'tis too much-my heart will rogue has been fond of her a long time, and she
burst with-oh-oh!-                          of him, it seems.
[Falls into a fit. HARRIET, CHARLES, C 4c.   Mrs. 0. I fear I have been to blame.  [Aside.
run to her assistance.                   Rus. I ask pardon, Madam, for the disturbance
Oak. [Interposing.] Let her alone.         I made in your house.
Har. Sir, Mrs. Oaklv-                        lHar. And the abrupt manner in which I came
Char. For Heaven's sake, Sir, she will be-   into it demands a thousand apologies. But the
Oak. Let her alone, let her alone.        occasion must be my excuse.
Har. Pray, my dear Sir, let us assist her. She  F Mrs. O. How have I been mistaken! [Aside.]
may —                                        But did not I overhear you and Mr. OaklyOak. I don't care. Let her alone, I say.                                 [ To HARRIET.
Mrs. 0. [Rising.] 0, you monster!-yon vil-   Har. Dear Madam, you had but a partial hearlain!-you base man! Would you let me die for ing of our conversation. It related entirely twant of help?-would you?                   this gentleman.
Oak. Bless me, Madam, your fit is very vio-   Char. To put it beyond doubt, Madam, Mr.
lent; take care of yourself.                 Russet and my guardian have consented to our
Mrs. O. Despised, ridiculed; but I'll be re- marriage; and we are in hopes that you will not
venged, you shall see, Sir.                  withhold your approbation.
Oak. Tol-de-rol lol-de-rol lol-de-rol lol.  ]~i~s. 0. I have no further doubt. I see you
[Singing. are innocent, and it was cruel to suspect you.
Mrs. O. What, am I made a jest of?  Exposed You have taken a load of anguish off my mind;
to all the world?  If there's law or justice-  and yet your kind interposition comes too late;
Oak. Tol-de-rol lol-de-rol iol-de-rol lol.  Mr. Oakly's love for me is entirely destroyed.
[ Siging.                                   [Weeping.
Mrs. O. I shall burst with anger. Have a   Oak. I must go to her.               [Apart.
care, Sir; you may repent this. Scorned and  MAaj. O. Not yet, not yet.           [Apart.
made ridiculous! No power on earth shall hin-   Har. Do not disturb yourself with such appreder my revenge!                    [Going. hensions; I am sure Mr. Oakly loves you most
Har. [Interposing.] Stay, Madam.           affectionately.'Mrs. O. Let me go: I cannot bear this place.    Oak. I can hold no longer. [Going to her.] My
iar. Let me beseech you, Madam.           affection for you, Madam, is as warm as ever.
Maj. O. Courage, brother! you have done My constrained behaviour has cut me to the soul,
wonders.                            [Apart. for it was all constrained, and it was with the
Oak. I think she'll have no more fits.  [Apart. utmost difficulty that I was able to support it.
Har. Stay, Madam; pray stay one moment. I   M1lrs. 0. O, Mr. Oakly, how have I exposed
have been a painful witness of your uneasiness, myself! What low arts has my jealousy induced
and in great part the innocent occasion of it. me to practise! I see my folly, and fear that you
Give me leave then-                          can never forgive me.
Mlis. 0. I did not expect, indeed, to have found    Oak. Forgive you!  This change transports
you here again. But. however-                le!-Brother! Mr. Russet! Charles! Harriet!
Har. I see the agitation of your mind, and it give me joy! I am the happiest man in the world!
makes me miserable. Suffer me to tell the real   Maj. O. Joy, much joy to you both! though, by
truth. I can explain every thing to your satis- the by, you are not a little obliged to me for it.
faction.                                     Did not I tell you I would cure all the disorders
Mrs. O. May be so: I cannot argue with you. in your family 1 I beg pardon, sister, for taking
Char. Pray, Madam, hear her; for my sake, the liberty to prescribe for you. My medicines
for your own-dear Madam!                     have been somewhat rough, I believe, but they
Mlrs. 0. Well, well, proceed.             have had an admirable effect, and so don't be
Har. I understand, Madam, that your first angry with your physician.
alarm was occasioned by a letter from my father   Mrs. 0. I am indeed obliged to you, and I feelto your nephew.                                Oak. Nay, my dear, no more of this. All
Rus. I was in a bloody passion, to be sure, Ma- that's past must be utterly forgotten.
dam! The letter was not over civil, I believe. I   Mrs. 0. I have not merited this kindness; but
did not kllow but the young rogue had ruined my it shall hereafter be my study to deserve it. Away
girl. But it's all over now, and so-        with all idle jealousies! And since my suspicions
Mrs. 0. You was here yesterday, Sir?     have hitherto been groundless,. IT cm resolved for
KPus. Yes; I came after Harriet. I thought I the future never to suspect a' all.  [Exeunt.




THE BEGGAR'S OPERA:
AN O PERA,
IN THREE ACTS.
BY JOHN GAY, EsQ.
REMARKS.
Tius piece is said tG have arisen from a remark of Dean Swift to Mr. Gay, " that a JV'ewgate Pastoral might
make a pretty sort of thing." It had a run of 63 nights, in its first season, (1727) and spread rapidly, with equal suetess, throughout Wales, Scotland, and Ireland. The card-table and the drawing-room echoed with its praise; the
ladies had the songs engraven on their fans; even screens and other pieces of furniture were decorated with
them. The profits were so considerable, both to the Author, (who was called the Orpheus of Highwaymen,) and
to Mr. Rich, the Manager, as to produce the saying, that it had " made Rich gay, and Gay rich." Miss Fenton,
who acted Polly, became the idol of the town and of the Duke of Bolton, by marriage with whom she attained the
highest rank a female subject can acquire.
This fortunate opera has been generallythought to give vice additional attraction, by exhibiting it in a pleasing
form; in this respect, the example of the hero and its general influence have probably been much over-rated; but
the scruples of the present refined age may well hesitate to admit the moral pretensions of this work. Instead
of approbation merely as a powerful attack on the absurdities of the Italian opera,* it inow charms by the native
beauty of the old airs, and the professional abilities of the performers.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
As originally acted in LINCOLN'S-INN-FIELDS, 1728.     At COVENT GARDEN, 1814.
CAPTAIN MACHEATH....r........M. Walker.....................Mr. Incledon.
PEACHUM,....Mr. Hippesley.......                             Mr. Blanchard.
LOCKIT,.....................Mr. Hall........            Mr. Emery.
MAT-O'THE-MINT...............Mr. Spiller.....................Mr. Taylor.
BEN BUDGE,..............M.... r. AMorgan.........Mr. Higman.
CROOK-FINGER'D JACK,........ Mr. Houghton................Mr. Jefferies.
JEMMY TWITCHER,...............Mr. H. Bullock.........  Mr. Treby.
WAT DREARY.........   Mr. Smith...........           Mr. Norris.
NIMMING NED.......Mr. Pit.........                           Mr. Atkins.
HARRY PADDINGTON,......Mr. Eaton.........                    Mr. King.
ROBIN OF BAGSHOT,.............Mr.  cy.........Mr. Tinney,
DRAWER...Mr. Menage.
FILCH,....................Mr. Clark...................Mr. Simmons.
MRS. PEACHUM,........ Mrs. Martin........Mrs. Davenport.
POLLY,....Miss Fenton.........            Miss Stephens.
LUCY.........................Miss Egleton...................MTS. Liston.
MRS. COAXER,........Mrs. Holiday................            Mrs. Bologna.
DOLLY TRULL,................Mrs. Lacy........  Mrs. Heath.
MRS. VIXEN,.................. Mrs. Rice.......r...........        s. Coates.
BETTY DoxY,................Mrs. Rogers.......        Miss Adams.
JENNY DIVER,..................Mrs. Clarke........Miss Cox.
MRS. SLAMMEKIN........Mrs. Morgan..................Miss Leserve.
SUKEY TAWDRY,.......... Mrs. Palen..................... Mrs. Watts.
MOLLY BRAZEN,.......... Mrs. Sallee.....................Mrs. Davies.
DIANA TRAPES,...........Mrs. Martin.
* This effeminacy had been recently imported from Italy, and infected the fashionable world; to oppose thia.
Mr. Gay, in his " Beggar's Opera," drew up the nervous old ballad of Britain, against the soft, unnatural, Italian
stanza, and took his airs from our most popular songs. "An Italian, (says Mr. Ireland, in his,' Iogarth'Illus
trated') concluded an harangue calculated to throw Gay's talents and taste into contempt, with-' Saire, this
simple signor did tri to pelt mi countrymen out of England with lumps of pudding;' one of Gay's tuness"
55*                                                              653




654                       THE BEBEGGAR'S OPERA.                                  rTx.1.
ACT I.                     his trial, and makes him risk anotner, without
fear or scruple. But I'll away, for'tis a pleasure
SCENE I.-PEACHUM'S House.             to be a messenger of comfort to friends in afflic.
PEACHUM sitting at a table, with a large book of tion.                              [Exit.
accounts before hind               Peach. But it is now high time to look about
me, for a decent execution against next sessions
Peach. Through all the employments of life,   I hate a lazy rogue, by whom one can get nothing
Each neighbour abuses his brother:       till he is hanged. A register of the gang: [Read.
Whore and rogue, they call husband and ing.] Crook-fingered Jack —a year and a haly
wife:                             in the service- let me see, how much the stock
All professions be-rogue one another.    owes to his industry;-One, two, three, four, five
The priest calls the lawyer a cheat;       gold watches, and seven silver ones. A mighty
The lawyer be-knaves the divine;         clean-handed fellow! sixteen snuff-boxes, five of
And the statesman, because he's so great,    them of true gold, six dozen of handkerchiefs, four
Thinks his trade is as honest as mine.   silver-hilted swords, half a dozen of shirts, three
A lawyer is an honest employment, so is mine. tie-perriwigs, and a piece of broadcloth. ConsiderLike me too, he acts in a double capacity, ing these are only the fruits of his leisure hours,
both against rogues, and fobr them; for it is but I don't know a prettier fellow; for no man alive
fitting, that we should protect and encourage hath a       more engaging presence of mind upon the
cheats, since we live by them.               road. —Wat Dreary, alias Brown Will-an irregular dog; who hath an underhand way of
Enter FILCH.                  disposing of his goods; I'll try him only for a session or two longer, upon his good behaviour. —
Filch. Sir, Black Moll has sent word, her trial sion or twe longer, upon his good behaviourcomes on in the afternoon, and she hopes you will Harry Paddington-a poor petty-larceny rascal,
order matters so as to bring her off.       without the least genius! that fellow, though he
ordPeach. Why, as the wench is very active and were to live these six months, will never come to
Peach. Why, as the wench is very active and the gallows with any credit-Slippery Sam-he
industrious. you may satisfy her that I'll soften the gallows with any credit.-Slippery Sam-he
industrious, you may satisfy her that I'll soften goes off the next sessions; for the villain hath
Fsthe evidence. Tom Gagg, il, i   guilty.  the impudence to have views of following his
Filch. Tom Gagg, Sir, is found guilty.     trade as a tailor, which he calls an honest emPeach. A lazy dog! When I took him, the         as a tailor, which he calls an honest emPeach. A lazy-dog! When I took him, the
time before, I told him what he would come to, if ployment. —Mat-o'-the-Mint —listed not above a
he did not mend his hand. This is death, without month ago; a promising, sturdy fellow, and dilireprieve.   may venture to book him; [Writes.] gent in his way; somewhat too bold and hasty,
foreprieve., Tom  ag  vreto p oounds. Let Bet~tySly  and may raise good contributions on the public, if
for Tom  Gagg, forty pounds. Let Betty Sly  he does not cut himself short by murder. —Tom
know, that I'll save her from transportation, for I Tipple-   guzzling, soaking sot,who is always
can get more by her staying in England.      too drunk to stand hiixself or to make others
Filch. Betty hath brought more goods to oinr stand; a cart is absolutely necessary for him.
lock this year, than any five of the gang; and, in. Robin of Bobshot, alias Gorgon, alias Blul
truth,'tis pity to lose so good a customer.      alias Carbuncle, alias Bob BootyPeach. If none of the gang takes her off, she
may, in the common course of business, live a            Enter MRS. PEACIUM.
twelvemonth longer. I love to let women'scape.   rs. P.   hat of Bob Booty, husband   I
A good sportsman always lets the hen-partridges  e nothing ba  ath betided him-You know
fly, because the breed of the game depends upon
them. Besides, here the law allows us no re- my dear, he's a favourite customer of mine-'twas
he made me a present of this ring.
ward: there is nothing to be got by the death of he made me a present of this ring.
women-e rwives.       Peach. I have set his name down in the black
women-except our wives.                      list, that's all, my dear; he spends his life among
Filch. Without dispute, she is a fine woman!, that'           he spends his life   o
Twas to her I was obliged for my education  women, and, as soon as his money is gone, one or'Twas to her I was obliged for my education. other of the ladies will hang him for the reward,
To say a bold word, she has trained up more other of the ladies will hang h   for the reward,
young fellows to the business than the gaming- and there's forty pounds lost to us for ever!
table.                              ganing-   Mrs. P. You know, my dear, I never meddle
Peach. Truly, Filch, thy observation is right. in matters of death; I always leave those affairs
Peach. Truly, Filch, thy observation is righto you. Women, indeed, are itter bad judges in
We and the surgeons are more beholden to wo- tl you. Women,indeed,arelitterbadjudgesin
We  than  all the surgeons are more beholdes.n to wo- these cases; for they are so partial to the brave,
\wen, than all the professions besides.  that they think every man handsome, who is goFilch.'Tis woman that seduces all mankind; ing to the camp or the gallows. But really,
By her we first were taught the wheedling husband, you should not be too hard-hearted, for
arts;                      [kind, you never had a finer, braver set of men than at
IHer very eyes can cheat; when most she's present. We have not had a murder among
She tricks us of our money, with our hearts. them all these seven months; and truly, my dear
For her, like wolves, by night, we roam for this is a great blessing.
prey,                    [charms;   Peach. What a dickens is the woman always
And  practice every fraud to bribe her whimpering about murder for?  No gentleman is
For, suits of love, like law, are won by pay,    ever looked upon the worse for killing a man in
And beauty must be fee'd into our arms.    his own defence; and if business cannot be carPeach. But make haste to Newgate, boy, and ried on without it, what would you have a gentlelet my friends know what I intend; for I love to man do? so, my dear, have done upon this subject.
make them easy, one way or another.           Was Captain Macheath here, this Unorning, for
Filch. When a gentleman is long kept in sus- the bank-notes he left with you last week 1
pense, penitence may break his spirit ever after.   Mrs. P. Yes, my dear; and though the bank
Besides, certainty gives a man a good air upon has stopped payment, he was so cheerful and so




SNE T.]j                    THE BEGGAR'S OPERA.                                    655
agreeable! Sure, there is not a finer gentleman  made a tolerable hand on't-' These seven handupon the road than the captain? if he comes from  kerchiefs, Madam.
Bagshot, at any reasonable hour, he hath pro-   Mrs. P. Coloured ones, I see. They are of
rnised to make one this evening, with Polly, me, sure sale from our warehouse at Redriff, among
and Bob Booty. at a party at quadrille. Pray, the seamen.
my dear, is the captain rich 1                  Filch. And this snuff-box.
Peach. The captain keeps too good company    AIrs. P. Set in gold! a pretty encouragement
ever to grow rich. Marybone and the chocolate- this to a young beginner! 
houses are his undoing. The man that proposes   Filch. I had a fair tug at a charming gold
to get money by play, should have the education  watch. Plague take the tailors, for making the
of a fine gentleman, and be trained up to it from  fobs so deep and narrow!-it stuck by the way,
his youth.                                   and I was forced to make my escape under a
Mrs. P. Really, I. am sorry, upon Polly's ac- coach. Really, Madam, I fear I shall be cut off
count, the captain hath not more discretion. What in the flower of my youth, so that every now and
business hath he to keep company with lords and  then, since I was pumped, I have thoughts of
gentlemen? he should leave them to prey upon taking up, and going to sea.
one another.                                   MfIrs. P. You should go to Hockley-in-the-hole,
Peach. Upon Polly's account! what a plague and to- Marybone, child, to learn valour; these
doth the woman mean!-Upon Polly's account! are the schools that have bred so many brave men..11rs. P. Captain Macheath is very fond of the I thought, boy, by this time, thou hadst lost fear
girl.                                         as well as shame. Poor lad! how little does he
Peach. And what then.    know yet of the Old Bailey! For the first fact,
Mrs. P. If I have any skill in the ways of wo- I'll insure thee from being hanged; and going to
men, I am sure Polly thinks him a very pretty sea, Filch, will come time enough, upon a senman.                                          tence of transportation. But, hark you, my lad,
Peach. And what then' you would not be so don't tell me a lie; for you know I hate a liar.mad as to have the wench marry him! Gamesters Do you know of any thing that hath passed beand highwaymen are, generally, very good to their tween Captain Macheath and our Polly'
mistresses, but they are very devils to their wives.   Filch. I beg you, Madam, don't ask me; for I
Mllrs. P. But if Polly should be in love, how  must either tell a lie to you, or to Miss Polly; for
should we help her, or how can she help herself? I promised her I would not tell.
Poor girl: I'm in the utmost concern about her!    Mrs. P. But when the honour of our family is
Peach. Look ye, wife; a handsome wench, in concerned.
our way of business, is as profitable as at the bar   Filch. I shall lead a sad life with Miss Polly,
of a Temple coffee-house, who looks upon it as if ever she comes to know I told you. Besides, I
her livelihood, to grant every liberty but one. My  would not willingly forfeit my own honour, by bedaughter to me should be like a court lady to a traying any body.
minister of state, a key to the whole gang. Mar-   A'Irs. P. Yonder comes my husband and Polly.
ried! if the affair is not already done, I'll terrify  Come, Filch, you shall go with me into my own
her from it, by the example of our neighbours.    room, and tell me the whole story. I'll give thee
Mrs. P. Mayhap, my dear, you may injure the a glass of'a most delicious cordial that I keep for
poor girl: she loves to imitate the fine ladies, and my own drinking.            [Exeunt.
she may only allow the captain liberties, in the      Enter PEAcHuM and POLLY.
view of interest.
Peach. But'tis your duty, my dear, to warn    Polly. I know as well as any of the fine ladies
the girl against her ruin, and to instruct her how  how to make the most of myself, and of my man
to make the most of her beauty. I'll go to her too. A  woman knows how to be mercenary,
this moment, and sift her. In the meantime, wife, though she hath never been in a court or at an
rip out the coronets and marks of these dozen of assembly. We have it in our nature, papa. If
cambric handkerchiefs, for I can dispose of them  I allow Captain Macheath some trifling liberties,
this afternoon to a chap in the city.  [Exit. I have this watch and other visible marks of his
Airs. P. Never was a man more out of the way favour to show for it. A girl who cannot grant
in an argument than my husband. Why must some things, and refuse what is most material
our Polly, forsooth, differ from her sex, and love will make but a poor hand of her beauty, and soon
only her husband' and why must Polly's mar- be thrown upon the common.
riage, contrary to all observation, make her the
less followed by other men' All men are thieves Virgins are like the fair flower in its lustre,
eWhich in the garden enamels the ground
in love, and like a woman the better for being    Which in the bees in play flutter and cluster,
another's property.        -                 Near it the bees in play flutter and cluster,
another's property.
And gaudy butterflies frolic around.
Enter FILCH.
Come hither, Filch.-I am as fond of this child, But when once pluck'd'tis no longer alluring,
as though my mind misgave me he were my own. To Covent Garden'tis sent (as yet sweet,)
s though my mind misgave me he were my ownThere fades, and shrinks, and grows past all enrHe hath as fine a hand at picking a pocket as a       during,
woman, and is as nimble-fingered as a juggler. If   Rots, stinks, and dies, and is trod under feet.
an unlucky session does not cut the rope of thy
life, I pronounce, boy, thou wilt be a great man in   Peach. You know, Polly, I am  not against
history.  Where was your post last night, my your toying and trifling with a customer, in the
boy?                                        way of business, or to get out a secret or so; but
Filch. I plied at the opera, Madam; and, con- if I find out that you have played the. fool, and are
sidering'twas neither dark nor rainy, so that there married, you jade you, I'll cut your throat, hussy.
was no great hurry in getting chairs and coaches, NTow, you know my mind.




656                    THE BEGGAR'S OPERA.                                       [(ACT.
Enter MRS. PEACHUM, in a very great passion.   Polly. I did not marry him (as tis the fashion.
coolly and deliberately, for honour or money —bu
Our Polly is a sad slut! nor heeds what we have I love him.
taught her,                           Mrs. P. Love him! worse and worse!  I
I wonder any man alive will ever rear a daughter! thought the girl had been better bred. Oh busFor she must have both hoods and gowns, and band! husband! her folly makes me mad! my
hoops to swell her pride,             ead swims! I'm distracted! I can't support myWith scarfs, and stays, and gloves, and lace, and self-Oh!                       [Faints
she will have men beside;              Peach. See, wench, to what a condition you
And when she's dress'd with care and cost, all have reduced  your poor mot     A glass of corhave reduced your poor mother! A glass of cortempting, fine, and gay,            dial this instant! How the poor woman takes it
As men should serve a cucumber, she flings her- to heart! [POLLY goes out, and returns with it.]
Ah, hussy! now this is the only comfort your
You baggage! you hussy! you inconsiderate mother has left.
jade! had you been hanged, it would not have   Polly. Give her another glass, Sir; my mamma
vexed me; for that might have been your misfor- drinks double the quantity whenever she is in
tune; but to do such a mad thing by choice!-   this way. This. you see, fetches her.
The wench is married, husband.                 Mrs. P. The girl shows such readiness, and so
Peach. Married! the captain is a bold man, much concern, that I almost could find in my
and will risk any thing for money: to be sure he heart to forgive her.
believes her a fortune. Do you think your mother and I should have lived comfortably so long  O Polly, you might have toyd and kiss'd:
together, if ever we had been married, baggage!  By keeping men off, you keep them on,
Mrs. P. I knew she was always a proud slut,   Polly. But he so teased me,
and now the wench hath played the fool and         And he so pleased me,
married, because, forsooth, she would do like the  What I did you must have done.
gentry! Can you support the expense of a hus-   Mrs. P. Not with a highwayman-you sorry
band, hussy, in gaming and drinking? have you slut.
money enough to carry on the daily quarrels of   Peach. A word with you, wife.'Tis no new
man and wife, about who shall squander most? thing for a wench to take a man without consent
If you must be married, could you introduce no- of parents. You know'tis the frailty of woman
body into our family but a highwayman?  Why, my dear!
thou foolish jade, thou wilt be as ill used and as   Airs. P. Yes, indeed,-the sex is frail; but the
much neglected as if thou hadst married a lord!  first time a woman is frail, she should be somePeach. Let not your anger, my dear, break what nice methinks, for then or never is her time
through the rules of decency; for the captain looks to make her fortune: after that she hath nothing
upon himself in the military capacity, as a gen- to do but to guard herself from being found out,
tleman by his profession.  Besides what he hath and she may do what she pleases.
already, I know he is in a fair way of getting or   Peach. Make yourself a little easy; I have a
dying; and both these ways, let me tell you, are thought shall soon set all matters again to rights
most excellent chances for a wife. Tellme, hussy, Why so melancholy, Polly  since what is done
are you ruined or no?                        cannot be undone, we must endeavour to make
Mrs. P. With Polly's fortune she might very the best of it.
well have gone off to a person of distinction: yes,   Mrs. P. Well, Polly, as far as one woman can
that you might, you pouting slut.            forgive another, I forgive thee. —Your father is too
Peach. What! is the wench dumb? speak, or fond of you, hussy.
I'll make you plead by squeezing out an answer Poily. Then all my sorrows are at an end.
from you. Are you really bound wife to him, or   lrs..   A mighty likely speech in troth for a
are you only upon liking.      [Pinches her. wench who is just married!
Polly. Oh!  [Screaming.
Mrs. P. How the mother is to be pitied who    Polly. I like a ship in storms was toss'd,
hath handsome daughters! Locks, bolts, bars, and  Yet afraid to put into land,
lectures of morality, are nothing to them; they    For, seized in the port the vessel's lost
break through them all; they have as much plea-  Whose treasure is contraband.
sure in cheating a father and mother, as in cheating  The waves are laid,
it cards.                                            My duty's paid;
Peach. Why, Polly, I shall soon know if you are  0 joy beyond expression!
married, by Macheath's keeping from our house.       Thus safe ashore
I ask no more;
Polly. Can love be controll'd by advice!       My all's in my possession.
Will Cupid our mothers obey?
Though my heart were as frozen as ice,       Peach. I hear customers in t'other room; go
At his flame'twould have melted away.   talk with them, Polly; but come again as soon as
When he kiss'd me, so sweetly he press'd,    they are gone.-But, harkye, child, if'tis the'Twas so sweet that I must have complied,  gentleman who was here yesterday about the
So I thought it both safest and best       repeating watch, say you can't get intelligence of
To marry, for fear you should chide.    it till to-morrow, for 1 lent it to Sukey Straddle,
to make a figure with to-night at a tavern in Druryi/rs. P. Then all the hopes of our family are lane. If t'other gentleman calls for the silver-hilg-me for ever and ever.                      ted sword, you know Beetle-browed Jemmy hath
Peach. And Macheath may hang his father it on, and he doth not come from Tunbridge till
and mother-in-law, in hopes to get into their Tuesdav night, so that it cannot be had till then.
laughter's fortune.                         [Exit POLLY.] Dear wife, be a little pacified;




SCENE I.]                THE  BEGGAR'S  OPEfit.                                     6t57
don't let your passion run away with your senses:     For on the rope that hangs my dear,
Polly, I grant you, hath done a rash thing.             Depends poor Polly's life.
Mirs. P. If she had had only an intrigue with   MUrs. P. But your duty to your parents, hussy,
the fellow, why the very best families have excused obliges you to hang him. What would many a
and huddled up a frailty of that sort.'Tis mar- wife give for such an opportunity!
riage, husband, that makes it a blemish.        Polly. What is a jointure, what is widowhood,
Peach. But money, wife, is the true fullers'- to me l I know my heart; I cannot survive him.
hrth for reputations; there is not a spot or stain  Thus, Sir, it will happen to your poor Polly.
b,ut what it can take out. I tell you, wife, I can    Mrs. P. What! is the fool in love in earnest
make this match turn to our advantage.       then! I hate thee for being particular. Why,
lkMrs. P. I am  very sensible, husband, that wench, thou art a shame to thy very sex!
Captain Macheath is worth money, but I am in   Polly. But hear me, mother-if you  ever
doubt whether he hath not two or three wives al- lovedready, and then, if he should die in a session or   Mrs. P. Those cursed play books she reads
two, Polly's dower would come into dispute.  have been her ruin! One word more, hussy, and
Peach. That indeed is a point which ought to I shall knock your brains out, if you have any.
be considered.  The lawyers are bitter enemies to   Peach. Keep out of the way, Polly, for fear of
those in our way; they don't care that any body mischief, and consider of what is proposed to you.
should get a clandestine livelihood but themselves.   Mrs. P. Away, hussy. Hang your husband,
hEnter POLLY.                 and be dutiful. [POLLY listens.] The thing, husband, must and shall be done. If she will not
Polly.'Twas only Nimming Ned: he brought know her duty, we know ours.
in a damask window-curtain, a hoop-petticoat, a ~ Peach. But really, my dear, it grieves one's
pair of silver candlesticks, a perriwig, land one silk heart to take off a great man. When I consider
stocking, from the fire that happened last night.  his personal bravery, his fine stratagems, how
Peach. There is not a fellow that is cleverer much we have already got by him, and how much
in his way, and saves more goods out of the fire, more we may get, methinks I can't find in my
than Ned. But now, Polly, to your affair; for heart to have a hand in his death: I wish you
matters must not be as they are. You are mar- could have made Polly undertake it.
ried, then, it seems?                          Mrs. P. But in case of necessity-our own
Polly. Yes, Sir.                           lives are in danger.
Peach. And how do you propose to live, child?   Peach. Then indeed we must comply with the
Polly. Like other women, Sir; upon the in- customs of the world, and make gratitude give
dustry of my husband.                        way to interest-he shall be taken off:
M.lirs. P. What! is the wench turned fool? a   Mrs. P. I'll undertake to manage Polly.
highwayman's wife, like a soldier's, hath as little   Peach. And I'll prepare matters for the Old
of his pay as of his company.                Bailey.
Peach. And had not you the common views of        [Exeunt PEACHuM and MRS. PEACHUM.
a gentlewoman in your marriage, Polly  Polly. Now I'm a wretch indeed!-Methinks
Polly. I don't know what you mean, Sir.    I see him already in the cart, sweeter and more
Peach. Of a jointure, and of being a widow.   lovely than the nosegay in his hand!-I hear the
Polly. But 1 love him, Sir: how then could I crowd extolling his resolution and intrepidity!-I
have thoughts of parting with him?          see him at the tree! the whole circle are in tears!
Peach. Parting with him! why that is the -What then will become of Polly?-As yet I
whole scheme and intention of all marriage arti- may inform him of their design, and aid him in
cdes. The comfortable estate of widowhood is the his escape.-It shall be so.-But then he flies, abonly hope that keeps up a wife's spirits. Where sents himself, and I bar myself from his dear,
is the woman who would scruple to be a wife, if dear conversation! that too will distract me.-If
she had it in her power to be a widow whenever he keeps out of the way, my papa and mamma
she pleased? If you have any views of this sort, may in time relent, and we may be happy.-If he
Polly, I shall think the match not so very unrea- stays he is hanged, and then he is logfor ever!sonable.                                     He intended to lie concealed in my room till the
Polly. How I dread to hear your advice! yet I dusk of the evening. If they are abroad, I'll this
must beg you to explain yourself.            instant let him out, lest some accident should prePeach. Secure what he hath got, have him  vent him.
peached the next sessions, and then at once you            Enter MACHEATH.
are made a rich widow.
Polly. What! murder the man I love! the    Mac. Pretty Polly, say,
blood runs cold at my heart with the very thought       When I was away,
of it!                                                id your fancy never stray
To some newer lover?
Peach. Fy, Polly! what hath murder to do in           To some newer lover?
the affair?  Since the thing sooner or later must  y. W ithout disguise,
happen, I dare say that the captain himself would       Heaving sighs,
like that we should get the reward for his death        Doting eyes,
so aa.Why, Polly, the captain  My constant heart discover.
sooner than a stranger. Whdly, oy, te   t                      let me loll!
knows that as'tis his employment to rob, so'tis ours   Mac. 0 pretty, pretty Poll
to take robbers; every man in his business: so. A,hat there is no malice in the case.            Polly. And are you as fond of me as ever, my,hat there is no malice in the case.
MdaIrs. P. To have him peached is the only thing    Mac. Suspect my honour, my courage, suspect
Oiuld ever make me forgive her.'Any thing but my love.-May my pistols miss
Polly. 0 ponder well! be not severe;        fire, and my mare slip her shoulder while I aim
S'5 save a wretched wife:          pursued, if ever I forsake thee!
VOL. I.. I.40 




658                    THE BEGGAR'S OPERA.                                     [ALT IL
Polly. Nay, my dear! I have no reason to       But soon as out of sight'tis gone,
doubt you, for I find in the romance you lent me,  Whines, whimpers, sobs, and cries.
none of the great heroes were false in love.                                    [Exeunt
Mac.   My heart was so free,                                ACT II.
It roved like the bee,
Till Polly my passion requited;           SCENE I.-A  Tavern near Nlewgate.
I sipt each flower,               JEMMY  TWITCHER, CROOK-FINGERED  JACK,
jr        I chang'd every hour,               WAT DREARY, ROBIN OF BAGSHOT, NIMMING
But here every flower is united.        NED, HARRY  PADDINGTON, MAT-O'-THEPolly. Were you sentenced to transportation,   MINT, BEN BUDGE, and the rest of the gang
sure, my dear, you could not leave me behind    at the table, with wine, brandy, and tobacco.
you-could you'                                Ben. But pr'ythee, Mat, what is become of
2Mac. Is there any power, any force, that could thy brother Tom   I have not seen him since my
tear me from thee! You might sooner tear a return from transportation.
pension out of the hands of a courtier, a fee from   MlIat. Poor brother Tom had an accident, this
a lawyer, a pretty woman from a looking-glass, or time twelvemonth, and so clever made a fellow
any woman from quadrille.-But to tear me from  as he was, I could not save him from these stealthee is impossible!                        ing rascals, the surgeons; and now, poor man, he
Mac. Were I laid on Greenland's coast,    is among the otamies, at Surgeons'-hall.
And in my arms embraced my lass,          Ben. So, it seems, his time was come.
Warm amidst eternal frost,                   Jemmy. But the present time is ours, and noToo soon the half year's night would pass.  body alive hath more. Why are the laws levelled
Polly. Were I sold on Indian soil,        at us' are we more dishonest than the rest of
Soon as the burning day was closed,     mankind' What we win, gentlemen, is our own,
1 could mock the sultry toil               by the law of arms, and the right of conquest.
When on my charmer's breast repos'd.      Jack. Where shall we find such another set of
Ml ac. And I would love you all the day,   practical philosophers, who, to a man, are above
Polly. Every night would kiss and play,   the fear of death'
MSac. If with me you'd fondly stray,         Wat. Sound men and true!
Polly. Over the hills and far away.          Robin. Of tried courage, and indefatigable inPolly. Yes, I would go with thee. But oh!-dustry!
how shall I speak it'! I must be torn from thee I   Ned. Who is there here that would not die for
We must part!                                his friend'
Mac. How!  part!                            Harry. Who is there here that would betray
Polly. We must, we must!-My papa and him for his interest'
mamma are set against thy life: they now, even    Mat. Show me a gang of courtiers that can say
now. are in search after thee: they are preparing
evidence against thee; thy life depends upon a   Ben. We are for a just partition of the world;
moment!                                     for every man has a right to enjoy life.
Mat. We retrench the superfluities of manO, what pain it is to part!               kind. The world is avaricious, and I hate avaCan I leave thee, can I leave thee'     rice. A covetous fellow, like a jackdaw, steals
O, what a pain it is to part!             what he was never made to enjoy, for the sake of
Can thy Polly ever leave thee'          hiding it. These are the robbers of mankind;
But lest death my love should thwart,     for money was made for the free-hearted and
And bring thee to the fatal cart,        generous: and where is the injury of taking from
Thus I tear thee from my bleeding heart!  another what he hath not the heart to make use
Fly hence, and let me leave thee.       of?
One kiss, and then! —one  kiss!-Be  gone!-   Jemmy. Our several stations for the day are
Farewell!                                   fixed. Good luck attend us all! Fill the glasses!
Mac. My hand, my heart, my dear, is so rivet-   Miat. Fill every glass, for wine inspires us,
ted to thine, that I cannot unloose my hold!          And fires us,
Polly. But my papa may intercept thee, and       With courage, love, and joy.
then I should lose the very glimmering of hope.    Women and wine should life employ;
A few weeks, perhaps, may reconcile us all. Shall      Is there aught else on earth desirous'
thy Polly hear from thee'                     Chorus. Fill every glass, &c.
M[ac. Must I then go'                                  Enter MACHEATH.
Polly. And will not absence change your love?   Mac
Mac. If you doubt it, let me stay-and be          Gentlemen, well met; my heart  ath
~hanged.                                  been with you this hour, but an unexpected affair
Polly. Oh, how I fear! how I tremble!-Go —hath detaed me. No ceremony, I beg you!
but, when safety will give you leave, you will be    lat. We were ust breaking up to go upon
sure to see me again; for, till then, Polly is dauty. Am   I to have the  honour of taking the
wretched.                                    air with you, Sir, this evening, upon the Heath'
I drink a dram now and then with the stageM1ac. The miser thus a shilling sees,     coachmen, in the way of friendship, and intelliWhich he's obliged to pay;            gence; and I know that, about this time, there
With sighs resigns it by degrees,       will be passengers upon the western road who
And fears'tis gone for aye.          are worth speaking with.
Polly. The boy thus when his sparrow's flown,   lIac. I was to have been of that party-but —
The bird in silence eyes;               M~[at. But what. Sir'




SCENE L.]                  THE BEGGAR'S OPERA.                                    659
Mac. Is there any one that suspects my cou- I must have women-there is nothing unbends
rage?                                       the mind like them: money is not so strong a
Mat. We have all been witnesses of it.    cordial for the time    Drawer!
Mac. My honour and truth to the gang'?
Mat. I'll be answerable for it.                           Enter DRAWER.
Mac. In the division of our booty, have 1 ever
shown the least marks of avarice and injustice?   is the porter gone for all the ladies, according to
Mat. By these questions, something -seems to my directions' 
have ruffled you. Are any of us suspected 2   -   Drawer. I expect him back every minute: but
Mac. I have a fixed confidence, gentlemen, in you know, Sir, you sent him as far as Hockleyyou all, as men of honour, and as such I value in-the-hole for three of the ladies; for one in Viand  respect you. Peachurm is a man that is use- regar-yard, and for the rest of them, somewhere
about Lewkner's-lane. Sure some of them are
fuil to us.
Mat. Is he about to play us any foul play  I'  below, for I hear the bar-bell. As they come, I
shoot him through the head.                  will show them up. Coming! coming.  [Exit.
Mac. I beg you, gentlemen, act with conduct Enter MRS. COAXER, )OLLY  TRULL,  MR.
and discretion. A pistol is your last resort.  VIXEN, BETTY DOXY, JENNY DIVER, MRS.
Mat. He knows nothing of this meeting.       SLAMMEKIN, SUEY TAWDRY, MOLLY BRAMac. Business cannot go on without him: he   ZEN.
is a man who knows the world, and is a necessary
agent to us. We have had a slight difference, and,   Mac. Dear Mrs. Coaxer, you are welcome!
till it is accommodated, I shall be obliged to keep you look charmingly to-day: I hope you don't
out of his way. Any private dispute of mine want the repairs of quality, and lay on paint.shall be of no ill consequence to my friends. You Dolly Trull! kiss me, you slut! are you as amomust continue to act under his discretion; for, rous as ever, hussy' you are always so taken
the moment we break loose from him, our gang is up with stealing hearts, that you don't allow yourruined.                                      self time to steal any thing else.-Ah, Dolly
Mat. He is, to us, of great convenience.  thou wilt ever be a coquette.-Mrs. Vixen, I'm
Mac. Make him  believe I have quitted the yours! I always loved a woman of wit and spirit:
gang, which I can never do but with life. At our they make charming mistresses,, but plaguy wives.
private quarters I will continue to meet you. A  -Betty Doxy! come hither, hpssy: do you drink
week or so will probably reconcile us.       as hard as ever? you had better stick to good
AIat. Your instructions shall be observed.'Tis wholesome beer; for, in troth, Betty, strong wanow high time for us to repair to our several du- ters will, in time, ruin your constitution; you
ties; so, till the evening, at our quarters in Moor- should leave those to your betters. —What, and
fields, we bid you farewell.                 my pretty Jenny Diver too! as prim and demure
Mac. I shall wish myself with you. Success as ever! there is not any prude, though ever so
attend you. [Sits down melancholy at the table. high bred, hath a more sanctified look, with a
Mlat-o'-the-iMint a~nd G~ang.      more mischievous heart: ah, thou art a dear, artLet us take the road;                   ful hypocrite!-Mrs. Slammekin! as careless and
Hark! I hear the sound of coaches,   genteel as ever! all you fine ladies, who know
The hour of attack approaches,        your own beauty, affect an undress. -But see!
To your arms, brave boys, and load,     here's Sukey Tawdry come to contradict what-I
See the ball I hold!                  was saying.-Molly Brazen! [She kisses him.]
That's well done! I love a free-hearted wench:
OurLet thfire hemists toil like surpasses,  thou hast a most agreeable assurance. girl, and art
Our fire their fire surpasses,          as willing as a turtle.
And turns all our lead to gold.
[The gang, ranged in thefront of the Stage,
load their pistols, and stick them  under
their girdles; then go of, singing thefirst   Youth's the season made for joys,
part in chorus.                                  Love is then our duty;
Mikac. What a fool is a fond wench! Polly is'She alone who that employs,
most confoundedly bit. I love the sex; and a         Weli deserves her beauty.
man who loves money might: as well be content-           Let's be gay,
ed with one guinea, as I with one woman.  The            While we may,
town, perhaps, hath been as much obliged to me     Beauty's a flower despised in decay.
for recruiting it with free-hearted ladies, as to any    Chorus. Youth's the season, &c.
recruiting officer in the army. If it were not for  Let us drink and sport to-day,
us and the other gentlemen of the sword, Drury-      Ours is not to-morrow;
lakne would be uninhabited.                       Love with youth flies swift away,
If the heart of a man is depress'd with cares,     Age is nought but sorrow.
The mist is dispell'd when a woman appears;            Dance and sing,
Like the notes of a fiddle, she sweetly, sweetly,      Time's on the wing,
Raises the spirits, and charms our ears.         Life never knows the return of spring.
Roses and lilies her cheeks disclose,        Chorus. Let us drink, &c.
But her ripe lips are more sweet than those;
Press her,.Mac. Now; pray, ladies, take your places.
Caress her,                     Here, Drawer, bring us more wine. If any. ot
With blisses,                  the ladies choose gin, I hope thev will be so free
Her kisses                      as to call for it.
Dissolve us in pleasure and soft repose.    Jenny. You look as if you meant me. Wine is




660                     THE BEGGAR'S OPERA.                                    [ACT r
strong enough for me. Indeed, Sir, I never drink       SCENE II.-Newgate.
strong waters but when I have the colic.
Miac. Just the excuse of the fine ladies! why,   Enter LOCKIT, Turnkeys, MACHEATH, ana
a lady of quality is never without the colic. I              Constables.
hope, Mrs. Coaxer, you have had good success of   Lockit. Noble captain, you are welcome! you
late in your visits among the mercers.      have not been a lodger of mine this year and a
AIrs. C. We have so many interlopers; yet, half. You know the custom, Sir; garnish, capwith industry, one may still have a little picking. tain, garnish. —Hand me down those fetters there.
-If any woman hath more art than another, to Meac. Those, Mr. Lockit, seem to be the hea.
be sure'tis Jenny Diver.                   viest of the whole set. With your leave, I should
MPac. Have done with your compliments, la- like the further pair better.
dies, and drink about. You are not so fond of   Lockit. Look ye, captain, we know what is fitme, Jenny, as you used to be.               test for our prisoners. When a gentleman uses
Jenny.'Tis not convenient, Sir, to show my me with civility, I always do the best I can to
fondness among so many rivals.'Tis your own please him.-H-and them down, I say. We have
choice, and not the warmth of my inclinations, them of all prices, from one guinea to ten; and
that will determine you.-But, to be sure, Sir,'tis fitting every gentleman should please himself.
with so much good fortune as you have had upon   M1/ac. 1 understand you, Sir. [Gives money.]
the road, you must be grown immensely rich.    The fees here are so many, and so exorbitant, that
Mac. The road, indeed, hath done me justice, few fortunes can bear the expense of getting off
but the gaming-table hath been my ruin.     handsomely, or of dying like a gentleman.
Jenny. A man of courage should never put   Lockit. Those, I see, will fit the captain better.
any thing to the risk but his life. These are the -Take down the, further pair.-Do but examine
tools of a man of honour; cards and dice are only them, Sir-Never was better work-How  genfit for cowardly cheats, who prey upon their teelly they are made!-They will sit as easy as a
friends. [She takes up one pistol; SUKEY TAW- glove, and the nicest man in England might not
DRY the other.                be ashamed to wear them. [He puts on the
Sukey. This, Sir, is fitter for your hand. Be- chains.] If I had the best gentleman in the land
sides your loss of money,'tis a loss to the ladies. in my custody, I could not equip him more handHow fond could I be of you! but, before company, somely. Ard so, Sir-I now leave you to your'tis ill bred.                               private meditations.
1lac. Wanton hussies!                                  [Exit LOCKIT, Turnkeys, and Con.
Jenny. I must, and will, have a kiss, to give
my wine a zest. MacMan may escape from rope and gun,
Nay, some have outlived the doctor's pill;
PEACHUM and Constables rush in upon him.     Who takes a woman must be undone,
Peach. I seize you, Sir, as my prisoner.      That basilisk is sure to kill.
l/lac. Was this well done, Jenny -i-Women    The fly, that sips treacle, is lost in the sweets,
are decoy ducks; who can trust them? beasts,    So he that tastes woman, woman, woman,
iades, jilts, harpies, furies, whores!         He that tastes woman, ruin meets.
Peach. Your case, Mr. Macheath, is not par- To what a woful plight have I brought myself!
ticular. The greatest heroes have been ruined by Here must  (all day lon  till  am hanged) be
women. —But, to do them justice, I must own they confident to hear the reproaches of a wench, who
are a pretty sort of creatures, if we could trust lays her ruin at my door-I am in the custody of
them. You must now, Sir, take your leave of her father; and, to be sure, if he knows of the
the ladies; and, if they have a mind to make you matter, I shall have a fine time on't betwixt this
a visit, they will be sure to find you at home. and my execution.-Bu  I promised the wench
This gentleman, ladies, lodges in Newgate. Con- marriage.-What signifies a promise to a woman 
stables, wait upon the captain to his lodgings.    does not man, in marriage itself, promise a hunMac. At the tree I shall suffer with pleasure,  dred things that he never means to perform? Do
At the tree I shall suffer with pleasure;  all we can, women will believe us; for they look
Let me go where I will,         upon a promise as an excuse for following their
In all kinds of ill,            own inclinations-But here comes Lucy, and I
I shall find no such furies as these are.   cannot get from her-'would I were deaf!
[Exit MACHEATH, gftarded with PEACHUM                     Enter Lucy.
and Constables.
Mrs. V. Look ye, Mrs. Jenny, though Mr.   Lucy. You base man, you!-how can you look
Peachum may have made a private bargain with me in the face, after what hath passed between
you and Sukey Tawdry, for betraying the cap- us?-Oh, Macheath! thou hast robbed me of my
tain, as we were all assisting we ought all to quiet-to see thee tortured would give me pleashare alike.                                sure.
Jenny. As far as a bowl of punch, or a treat, I   Thus, when a good housewife sees a rat,
believe, Mrs. Sukey will join me-as for any thing  In her trap in the morning taken,
else, ladies, you cannot, in conscience, expect it.    With pleasure her heart goes pit-a-pat,
Mirs. S. Dear Madam!                           In revenge for her loss of bacon.
[Offering the pass to MRs. VIXEN.          Then she throws him
M'rs. V. I wouldn't for the world.                   To the dog or cat
AMrs. S. Nay-thus I must stay all night.       To  be worried crush'd and shaken.
Mrs. V. Since you command me
Mrs. S. [After giving way to MRS. VIXEN,   MVac. Have you no tenderness, my dear Lucy
pushes her from the door.] Let your betters go to see a husband in these circumstances.'efore you.                       [Exeunt.   Lucy. A husband!




WI:'N nI.j               TTHE BEGGAR'S OPERA.                                       661
Mac. In every respect but the form, and that,   Lockit. If you will run your eye over it, you'll
my dear, may be said over us at any time. Friends find'tis fair and clearly stated.
should not insist upon ceremonies. From a man    Peach. This long arrear of the government is
of honour his word is as good as his bond.   very hard upon us. Can it be expected that we
Lucy. It is the pleasure of all you fine men to should hang our acquaintance for nothing, when
insult the women you have ruined.             our betters will hardly save theirs without being
Mac. The very first opportunity, my dear (but paid for it? Unless the people in employment
have patience,) you shall be my wife in whatever pay better, I promise them for the future 1 shall
manner you please.                           let other rogues live besides their own.
Lucy. Insinuating monster! Andso you think    Lockit. Perhaps, brother, they are afraid those
I know nothing of the affair of Miss Polly Pea- matters may be carried too far. We are treated
chum?-I could tear thy eyes out.            too by them with contempt, as if our profession
Mac. Sure, Lucy, you can't be such a fool as were not reputable.
to be jealous of Polly.                        Peach. In one respect indeed our employmen
Lucy. Are you not married to her, you brute, may be reckoned dishonest, because, like great
you?                                        statesmen, we encourage those who betray their
Mac. Married! very good. The wench gives friends.
it out only to vex thee, and to ruin me in thy good   Lockit. Such language, brother, any where else
opinion.'Tis true I go to the house, I chat with might turn to your prejudice. Learn to be more
the girl, I kiss her, 1 say a thousand things to guarded, I beg you.
her (as all gentlemen do) that mean nothing, to
divert myself; and now the silly jade hath set      When you censure the age,
it about that I am married to her, to let me know   Be cautious and sage,
Lest the courtiers offended should be;
what she would be at. Indeed, my dear Lucy!       Lest the coution vice or bribe,
those violent passions may be of ill consequence    Tis so pat to all the ribe,
to a woman in your condition.'Tis so pat to all the tribe,
to a woman in your condition.        Each cries-That was levell'd at me.
Lucy. Come, come, captain, for all your assurance, you know that Miss Polly hath put it out of   Peach. Here's poor Ned Clincher's, name, I
your power to do me the justice you promised me. see: sure, brother Lockit, there was a little unfair
Mac. A jealous woman believes' every thing proceeding in Ned's case; for he told me in che
her passion suggests. To convince you of my condemned hold, that, for value received, you had
sincerity, if we can find the ordinary, I shall have promised him a session or two longer without
no scruples of making you my wife; and I know  molestation.
the consequence of having two at a time.        Lockit. Mr. Peachum-this is the first time my
Lucy. That you are only to be hanged, and so honour was ever called in question.
get rid of them both.                           Peach. Business is at an end-if once we act
Mac. I am ready, my dear Lucy! to. give you dishonourably.
satisfaction-if you think there is any in marriage.   Lockit. Who accuses me 
-What can a man of honour say more?           Peach. You are warm, brother.
Lucy. So then it seems you are not married to   Lockit. He that attacks my honour, attacks my
Miss Polly?                                  livelihood-and this usage-Sir-is not to be
Mac. You know, Lucy, the girl is prodigiously borne.
conceited: no man can say a civil thirg to her,   Peach. Since you provoke me to speak —I must
but (like other fine ladies) her vanity makes her tell you too, that Mrs. Coaxer charges you with
think he's her own for ever and ever.        defrauding her of her information money for the
apprehending of Curl-pated Hugh. Indeed, in
The first time at the looking glass        deed, brother, we must punctually pay our spies,
The mother sets her daughter,            or we shall have no information.
The image strikes the smiling; lass          Lockit. Is this language to me, sirrah —who
With self-love ever after.   -           have saved you from the gallows, sirrah!
Each time she looks, she, fonder grown,y collar each other
Thinks every charm grows stronger;         Peach. If I am hanged it shall be for ridding
But, alas, vain maid! all eyes but your own    the world of an arrant rascal
Can see you are not younger.               Lockit. This hand shall do the office of the
When women consider their own beauties, they hater you deserve, and throttle you-you dog 
are all alike unreasonable in their demands; for   Peach. Brother, brother-we are both in the
they expect their lovers should like them as long as wrong-we shall be both losers inthedisputethey like themselves.                        for you know we have it in our' power to hang
Lucy. Yonder is my father-Perhaps this each other.  You should not be so passionate.
way we may light upon the ordinary, who shall   Lockit. Nor you so provoking.
try if you will be as good as your word-for I   Peach.'Tis our mutual interest, tis for the inlong to be made an honest woman.    i [Exeunt.  terest of the world, we should agree. If I said
any thing, brother, to the prejudice of your chaErter PEACHUM, and LOCKIT, with an account- racter, I ask pardon.
book.                      Lockit. Brother Peachum-I can forgive as
well as resent-Give me your hand; suspicion
Lockit. In this last affair, brother Peachum, we does not become a friend.
are agreed. You have consented to go halves in    Peach. I only meant to give you occasion to
Macheath.                                    justify yourself. But I must now step home, for
Peach. We shall never fall out about an ex- I expect the gentleman about his sntff-box-that
ecution.  But as to that article, pray how stands Filch nirnmed two nights ago in the Park. I apvour last year's account?                   pointed him at this hour.             [Exit.
56




M62                    THE BEGGAR'S OPERA.                                    [ACT IL
Enter Luc'.'What means my love?-not one kind word! not
Lockit. Whence come you. hussy'           one kind look!-Think what thy Polly suffers to
Lucy. My tears might answer that question.  see thee in this condition 
Lockit. You have been whimpering and ibndLockt. You have een whimpering and fond-   Mac. I must disown her. [Aside.] The wench
fing like a spaniel, over the fellow that hath iS distracted
abused you.                     7              Lucy. Am I then bilked of my virtue? Can I
Lucy.: One can't help love; one can't cure it. have no reparation? Sure men were born to lie,'Tis not in my power to obey you and hate him. and woman to believe them! Oh, villain! villain!
Lockit. Learn to bear your husband's death   Polly. Am  I not thy wife -Thy neglect o
like a reasonable woman;'tis not the fashion now- me, thy aversion to me, too severely proves it.a-days so much as to affect sorrow upon these oc- Look on me-tell me, am I not thy wife
casions.  No woman would ever marry if she   Lucy. Perfidious wretch!
had not the chance of mortality for a release. Act   Polly. Barbarous husband!
like a woman of spirit, hussy, and thank your   Lucy. Hadstthou beenhanged fivemonths ag
father for what he is doing.                  ha been happy.
Polly. If you had been kind to me till death, it
Lucy. is then his fate decreed, Sir,    would not have vexed me-and that's no very unSuch a man can I think of quitting?   reasonable request (though from a wife) to a man
When first we met, so moves me yet,      who hath not above seven or eight days to live.
O see how my heart is splitting!       Lucy. Art thou, then, married to another?
Lockit. Look ye, Lucy, there is no saving him  Hast thou two wives, monster?
-so I think you must even do like other widows  ac.    woman's tongue can cease for an an— buy yourself weeds, and be cheerful.      swer-hear me.
Lucy. I wont.-Flesh and blood can't bear my
You'll think, ere many days ensue,      usage!
This sentence not severe:               Polly. Shall not I claim my own? Justice bids
I hang your husband, child,'tis true,  me speak.
But with him hang your care.              Mac. How happy could I be with either
Were t'other dear charmer away!
Like a good wife, go moan over your dying hus-   But while ye thus tease me together,
band: that, child, is your duty-Consider, girl,    To neither a word will I say;
you can't have the man and the money too-                  But toll de roll, &c.
so make yourself as easy as you can, by getting all
you can from him.                    [Exit.   Polly. Sure, my dear, there ought to be some
- Enter MACHEATH.            -preference shown to a wife-at least she may.
claim the appearance of it. He must be distracted
Lucy. Though the ordinary was out of the way with misfortunes, or he could not use me thus.
to-day, I hope, my dear, you will, upon the first   Lucy. Oh villain! villain! thou hast deceived:pportunity, quiet my scruples.-Oh, Sir! my me!-I could even inform against thee with pleafather's hard heart is not to be softened, and I am  sure.-Not a prude wishes more heartily to have.nLthe utmost despair.                      facts against her intimate acquaintance, than I
Mac. But if I could raise a small sum — now wish to have facts against thee. I would
would not twenty guineas, think you, move him? have her satisfaction, and they should all out.
-Of all the arguments in the way of business,
Polly. I'm bubbled.
the perquisite is the most prevailing.-Money,
well-timed, and properly applied, will do any thing.  y. Oh, how Im troubled
Polly. Oh, how I'm troubled!
If you at an office expect your due,          Lucy. Bamboozled and bit!
And would'nt have matters neglected,        Polly. My distresses are doubled.
You must quicken the clerk with perquisite too,    Lucy. When you come to the tree, should the
To do-what his duty directed:                          hangman refuse,
Or would you the frowns of a lady prevent,           These fingers, with pleasure, could fasShe too has that palpable failing;                    ten the noose.
The- perquisite softens her into consent,     Polly. I'm bubbled, &c.
Thatreason with all is prevailing.
Mac. Be pacified, my dear Lucy-this is all a
Lucy. What love or money can do shall be done; fetch of Polly's,: to make me desperate with you, in
for all my comfort depends upon your safety.  jt case I get off. If I am hanged, she would fain
7     have the credit of being thought my widow.Enter POLLY.                 Really, Polly, this is no time for a dispute of this
Polly. Where is my dear husband?-Was a sort; for whenever you are talking of marriage, I
rope ever intended for this neck?-Oh let me am  thinking of hanging.
throw me throw my arms about it, and throttle Polly. And hast thou the heart to persist in
thee with love!-W-hy dost thou turn away from  disowning me 
me!-'tis thy Polly-tis thy wife.  ac. And hast thou the heart to persist in
me!-p'tis thyat I am married? Vrhy, Polly,
Mac. Was ever such an unfortunate rascal as persuading me that I am married   Why, Polly
l am?                                       dost thou seek to aggravate my misfortunes?
* Lucy. Was there ever such another   2 villai Lucy. Really, Miss Peachum, you do but exPolly. Oh, Macheath! was it for this we parted? pose yourself; besides,'tis barbarous in you to
-Taken!'imprisoned!  tried!  hanged! —Cruel worry a gentleman in his circumstances.
reflection:! I'll' tay with thee till death —— no  Polly.' Cease your funning,
for,. shall tear thy dear wife from thee now.-       Force or cunning




ECENE I.]                 THE -BEGGAR'S OPERA.                                    663
Never shall my heart trepan;         Mac. You see, Lucy, in the account of love,
All these sallies               you are in my debt.- Make me, if possible, love
Are but malice,                 thee more, and let me owe my life to thee.-If
To seduce my constant man.        you refuse to assist me, Peachum and your father'Tis most certain,              will immediately put me beyond all means of
By their flirting,              escape.
Women oft have envy shown;          Lucy. My father, I know, hath been drinking
Pleas'd to ruin                 hard with the prisoners, and I fancy he is now
Others' wooing,                 taking his nap in his own room.-If I can procure
Never happy in their own!        the keys, shall I go off with thee, my dear?
Decency, Madam, methinks, might teach you to    Mac. If we are together,'twill be impossible to
behave yourself with some reserve to the husband,e concealed. As soon as the search begins to
while his wife is present.                  be a little cool, I will send to thee; till then, my
Mac. But, seriously, Polly, this is carrying the heart is thy prisoner.
joke a little too far.                         Lucy. Come then, my dear husband, owe thy
Lucy. If you are determined, Madam, to raise life to me; and, though you love me not, be
a disturbance in the prison, I shall be obliged to grateful.-But that Polly runs in my head
send for the turnkey, to show you the door. I strangely.
Mac. A moment of time may make us unhapam sorry, Madam, you force me to be so ill-bred.
Polly. Give me leave to tell you, Madam, these py for ever.
forward airs don't become you in the least, Ma-   Lucy. I like the fox shall grieve,
dam; and my duty, Madam, obliges me to stay            Whose mate hath left her side;
with my husband, Madam.                              Whom hounds, from morn to eve,
Lucy. Why, how now, Madam Flirt?                  Chase o'er the country wide.
If you thus must chatter,               Where can my lover hide?
And are for flinging dirt,                  Where cheat the weary pack?
Let's try who best can spatter,         Iflove be not his guide
Madam Flirt!              He never will come back.  [Exeunt.
Polly. Why, how now, saucy jade                          ACT 
Sure the wench is tipsyACT III.
]Tow can you see me made [To him.            SCENE I. —Newgate.
The scoff of such a gipsy?
Saucy jade! [To her.              LOCKIT and LucY.
Enter PEACHUM.                  Lockit. To be sure, wench, you must have been
Peach. Where's my wench? Ah, hussy, hus- aiding and abetting to help him in this escape?
sy!-Come home, you slut? and when your fel-   Lucy. Sir, here hath been Peachum, and his
low is hanged, hang yourself, to make your family daughter Polly, and, to be sure, they know the
some amends.                                 ways of Newgate as well as if they had been born
Polly. Dear, dear father! do not tear me from  and bred in the place all their lives. Why must
him.-I must speak-I have more to say to him. all your suspicion light upon me?
-Oh, twist thy fetters about me, that he may not   Lockit. Lucy, Lucy, I will have none of these
haul me from thee!          [To MACHEATH. shuffling answers!
Peach. Sure, all women are alike! if ever thevy   Lucy. Well then, if I know any thing of him,
commit one folly, they are sure to commit another, I wish I may be burned!
by exposing themselves.-Away-not a word   Lockit. Keep your temper, Lucy, or I shall
more.-You are my prisoner, now, hussy.      pronounce you guilty.
Polly. No power on earth can e'er divide    Lucy. Keep yours, Sir-I do wish I may be
The knot that sacred love bath tied;   burned, I do; and what can I say more to conThe knot that sacred love hath tied;
When parents draw against our mind,  vince you 
The truelove's knot they faster bind.  Lockit. Did he tip handsomely? —How much
Oh, oh, ray, oh Amborah-Oh, oh, did he come down with? Come, hussy, don't
Ohoh, ray, oh Amborah-h, oh, cheat your father, and I shall not be angry with
Ijolding MACHEATH, PEACHUM pulling her * you-Perhaps, you have made a better bargain
oldieeunt EACH     and PACUM pulling her; with him than I could have done-How  much,
exeunt PE.CHuM and POLLY.
my good girl?
Mac. I am naturally compassionate, wife, so that   Lucy. You know, Sir, I am fond of him, and
I could not use the wench as she deserved, which would have given money to have kept him with
made you, at first, suspect there was something in me.
what she said.                                Lockit. Ah, Lucy! thy education might have
Lucy. Indeed, my dear, I was strangely puzzled! put thee more upon thy guard: for a girl, in the
Mac. If that had been the case, her father would bar of an alehouse, is always besieged.
never have brought me into this circumstance.-   Lucy. If you can forgive me, Sir, I will make
No, Lucy, I had rather die than be false to thee! a fair confession; for, to be sure, he hath been a
Lucy. How happy am I, if you say this from  most barbarous villain to me!
your heart! for I love thee so, that I could sooner   Lockit. And so you have let him escape, hussy
bear to see thee hanged, than in the arms of an- -have you?
other.                                        Lucy. When a woman loves, a kind look, a
M/ac. But couldst thou bear to see me hanged? tender word, can persuade her to any thing, and
Lucy. Oh, Macheath! I could never live to I could ask no other bribe. Notwithstanding all
see that day!                               he swore, I am now fully convinced, that Polly




664                      THE BEGGAR'S OPERA.                                   (nA1 m.
Peachum  is actually his wife-Did I let him                  Enter FILCH.
escape, fool that I was! to go to her  Polly will
wheedle herself into his money; and then Peachum    Filch. Madam, here's Miss Polly come to wait
will hang him, and cheat us both.             upon you
Lockit. So I am to be ruined because, forsooth,   Lucy. Show her in,
you must be in love!-A very pretty excuse!                  Enter Po
Lucy. I could murder that impudent, happy
strumpet!-I gave him his life, and that creature  Dear Madam! your servant. —  hope you will
enjoys the sweets of it-Ungrateful Macheath!   pardon my passion when I was so happy to see
My love is all madness and folly;       you last-I was so overrun with the spleen, that
Alone I lie,                       I was perfectly out of myself; and really when
Toss, tumble, and cry,             one hath the spleen, every thing is to be excused
What a happy creature is Polly!        by a friend.
Was e'er such a wretch as I.           When a wife's in the pout
With rage I redden like scarlet,             (As she's sometimes, no doubt,)
That my dear, inconstant varlet,           The good husband, as meek as a lamb,
Stark blind to my charms,                Her vapours to still,
Is lost in the arms                      First grants her her will,
Of that jilt, that inveigling harlot!     And the quieting draught is a dram;
Stark blind to my charms,            Poor man! and the quieting draught is a dram.
Is lost in the arms
Of that jilt, that inveigling harlot!  I wish all our quarrels might have so comfortable
This, this my resentment alarms.       a reconciliation.
Polly. I have no excuse for my own behaviour,
Lockit. And so, after all this mischief, I must Madam, but my misfortunes-and really, Madam,
stay here to be entertained with your caterwaul- I suffer too upon your account.
ing, Mistress Puss!-Out of my sight, wanton    Lucy. But, Miss Polly-in the way of friendstrumpet! —Y'ou shall fast, and mortify yourself  ship, will you give me leave to propose a glass of
into reason, with now and then a little handsome  cordial to you              -
discipline, to bring you to your senses.-Go o - Polly. Strong waters are apt to give me the
[Ex.it LUCY.1 Peachum, then, intends to outwit head-ache.-I hope, Madam, you will excuse me.
me in this affair, but I'll be even with him!-The    Lucy. Not the greatest lady in the land could
dog is leaky in his liquor, so I'll ply him that have better in her closet for her own private
way, get the secret from him, and turn this affair drinking.-You  seem  mighty low in spirits, my
to my own advantage. Lucy!                  dear.
Enter LucY.                    Polly. I am sorry, Madam, my health will not
allow me to accept of your offer-I should not
Are there any of Peachum's people now in the  have left you in the rude manner I did when we
house?                                       met last, Madam, had not my papa hauled me
Lucy. Filch, Sir, is drinking a quartern of away so unexpectedly.-I was indeed somewhat
strong waters in the next room, with Black Moll, provoked. and perhaps might use some expressions
Lockit. Bid him come to me.         [Exit. that were disrespectful-but really, Madam, the
Enter FILCH.                  captain treated me with so much contempt. and
cruelty, that I deserved your pity rather than your
What, boy, thou lookest as if thou wert half resentment.
starved,-like a shotten herring.-But, boy, canst   Lucy. But since his escape, no doubt, all matthou tell me where thy master is to be found'2   ters are made up again.-Ah. Polly, Polly!'tis
Filch. At his lock, Sir, at the Crooked Billet.  I am the unhappy wife, and he loves you as if
Lockit. Very well-I have nothing more with  you were only his mistress.
you. [Exit FIICH.] I'll go to him there, for I   Polly. Sure, Madam, you cannot think me so
have many important affairs to settle with him, happy as to be the object of your jealousy.-A
and in the way of those transactions, I'll artfully  man is always afraid of a woman who loves him
get into his secret-so that Macheath shall not too well.-So that I must expect to be neglected
remain a day longer out of my clutches.  [Exit. and avoided.
Enter LUCY.                     Lucy. Then our cases, my dear Polly, are exactly alike: both of us indeed have been too fond.
Lucy. Jealousy, rage, love, and fear, are at once Indeed, my dear Polly, we are both of us a cup
tearing me to pieces.: How am I weatherbeaten  too low; let me prevail upon you to accept of my
and shattered with distresses.               offer.
I'm like a skiff on the ocean toss'd,               Come, sweet lass,
Now high, now low, with each billow borne.       Let's banish sorrow
With rudder broke and anchor lost,                  Till to-morrow;
Deserted and all forlorn.                        Come, sweet lass,
While thus I lie rolling and tossing all night,  Let's take a chirping glass.
That Polly lies sporting on seas of delight.       Wine can clear
Revenge, revenge, revenge,                       The vapours of despair,
Shall appease my restless sprite.                And make us light as air;
1 have the ratsbane ready-But say I were to be        Then drink and banish care.
hanged-I never could be hanged for any thing  I can't bear, child, to see you in such* low spirits
that would give me greater comfort than the -and I must persuade you to what I know will
poisoning that slut.                         dc 1ou good                           [Exit.




SCENEIII.]               THE BE GGAR; O PERA.                                      -665
Polly. All this wheedling of Lucy can't be for  Like the sailor, he holds up his hand
nothing-at this time too, when I know she hates      Distress'd on the dashing wave;
me!-The dissembling of a woman is always the      To die a dry death at land
forerunner of mischief.-By pouring strong wa-        Is as'bad as a wat'ry grave.
ters down my throat she thinks to pump some            And alas, poor Polly!
secrets out of me-I'll be upon my guard, and             Alack, and well-a-day!
wont taste a drop of her liquour, I'm resolved.        Before I was in love,
Oh! every month was May.
Re-enter LucY, with strong waters.
Peach. Set your heart at rest, Polly-your
Lucy. Come, Miss Polly.                     husband is to die to-day; therefore, if you are not
Polly. Indeed, child, you have given yourself already provided,'tis high time to look, about for
trouble to no purpose.-You must, my dear, ex- another.-There's comfort for you, you slut!
cuse me.                                        Lockit. We are ready, Sir, to conduct you to
Lucy. Really, Miss Polly, you are as squeam- the Old Bailey.
ishly affected about taking a cup of strong waters
as a lady before company.          llac. The charge is prepar'd, the lawyers are
as a lady before company.
Polly. What do I see  Macheath again in                    met,
custody!-now every glimmering of happiness is         Thejudges all ranged: (a terrible show!)
lost.  [Drops the glass of liquor on the ground.     I go undismay'd, for death is a debtA debt on demand, so take what I owe.
Enter LOCKIT, MACHEATH, and PEACHUM.              Then farewell, my love-dear charmers,
adieu!
Lockit. Set your heart at rest, captain.-You       Contented I die-tis the better for you
have neither the chance of love or money for an-     Here ends all dispute, for the rest of our
other escape, for you are ordered to be called down  Here ends all dspute, for the rest of ou
upon your trial immediately.                                 lives,
Peach. Away, hussies - This is not a time         For this way at once, I please all my wives.
for a man to be hampered with his wives-you  Now, gentlemen, I am ready to attend you.
see the gentleman is in chains already.          [ExeuntPEACHUM, LOCKIT, MACHEATr11 4,
Lucy. 0 husband, husband! my heart longed
to see thee, but to see thee thus distracts me!  SCENE II.-Another part of the Prison.
Polly. Will not my dear husband look upon           Dance of Prisoners in fetters.
his Polly?  Why hadst thou not flown to me for
protection i with me thou hadst been safe.         SCENE III.-The condemned Cell.
Polly. Hither, dear husband, turn your eyes!     MACHEATH in a melancholy posture.
Lucy.   Bestow one glance to cheer me.
Polly. Think, with that look, thy Polly dies.                 MEDLEY.
Lucy.   O shun me not, but hear me!                   Oh, cruel, cruel, cruel case!
Polly.'Tis Polly sues.                                Must I suffer this disgrace?
Lucy.'Tis Lucy speaks.                 Of all the friends in time of grief,
Polly. Is this true love requited?               When threat'ning death looks grimmer,
Lucy. My heart is bursting.                     Not one so sure can bring relief,
Polly.          Mine, too, breaks.                As this best friend, a brimmer.  [Drinks.
Lucy. Must I-                                 Since I must swing-I scorn, I scorn to wince
Polly.         Must I be slighted?                       or whine.                [Rises.
But now again my spirits sink,
Milac. What would you have me say, ladies             I         a  n m     itin
You see the affair will soon be at an end, without       I'll raise them high with wine.
my disobliging either of you.                        But valur the stronger gro    [Drinks
Peach. But the settling of this point, captain,           he stronger liquor we're drinking;
might prevent a lawsuit between your two ladies.    And  how can we feel our woes
And how can we feel our woes,
Ml/ac. Which way shall I turn me? how can I        When we've lost the trouble of thinkdecide?                                    ing?. [Drinks.
Wives, the day of our death, are as fond       If thus a man can die,
as a bride.                            Much bolder with brandy.
One wife is too much for most husbands              [Pours out a bumper of Brandy.
to hear,                [bear, So I drink offtthis bumper-and now I can stand
But two at a time, there's no mortal can       the test.
This way and that way, and which way And my comrades shall see that I die as brave as
I will,                                the best.                   [Drinks.
What would comfort the one, t'other wife         But can I leave my pretty hussies
would take ill.                           Without one tear, or tender sigh?
Their eyes, their lips, their busses,
Polly. But, if his own misfortunes have made           T        h eir eyes, their lips, their busses,
him insensible to mine, a father, sure, will be   Since Recall my lovAh  must I (lie
more compassionate!-Dear, dear Sir! sink the    To curb vice in others, as well as in me,
material evidence, and bring him off at his trial-  I wonder we ha'n't better company
Polly, upon her knees, begs it of you.                           Upon Tyburn tree.
When my hero in court appears,                But gold from law can take out the sting;
And stands arraign'd for his life,          And if rich mtn, like us, were to swing,
Then think of poor Polly's tears,'Twould thin the land, such numbers to string
For ah! poor Polly's his wife.                           Upon Tyburn tree.
VOL. I.... 4 P     56*




666                    T H E  E G GGAR'S- OPER A.                             [ACT m~
Enter GAOLER.                   Mac. Oh, leave me to thought! I fear. I doubt 
Gaoler. Some friends of yours, captain, desire     I tremble-I droop -See, my courage
to be admitted-I leave you together.    [Exit.       No tokenn up                 ptypot
Polly. No token of love?
Enter BEN BUDGE and MAT-O'-THE-M INT.  MI.ac.                  See, my courage is out!
Mac. For my having broke prison, you see,                    [Turns up the empty bottle.
gentlemen, I am ordered immediate execution-. No token of love
The sheriff's officers, I believe, are now at the    Polly.
ori s    believeare now at       Lucy.                     Farewell!
door. -That Jemmy Twitcher should peach me,   Mac. But hark! I hear the toll of the bell.
I own surprised me'Tis a plain proof that the
world is all alike, and that even our gang can no         Re-enter GAOLER.
more trust one another than other people; there-    Gaoler. Four women more, captain, with a
fore, I beg you, gentlemen, to look well to your- child a-piece.
selves, for, in all probability, you may live some
filac. Tell the sherifi's officers I am ready.
months longer.
Mat. We are all heartily sorry, captain, for   Mob. [Within.] A reprieve   a reprieve 1
your misfortune; but'tis what we must all
come to.                                        Re-enter MACHEATH, POLLY, LucY, 4c.
Mac. Peachum and Lockit, you know, are infamous scoundrels —their lives are as much in    Mac. So, it seems, I am not left to my choice,
famous scoundrels-their lives. are as much in
your power, as yours are in theirs-Remember but must have a wife at last-Look ye, my dears,
your dying friend-'Tis my last request-Bring  we will have no controversy now-Let us give
~~~~~your di  fin-'Bing  ~this day to mirth; and, ladies, I hope you will
those villains to the gallows before you, and I am                                 you
~~~~~~satisfied.    ~give me leave to present a partner to each of you;
and for this time I take Polly for mine-and for
Mat. We'll do it.
life, you slut, for we are really married.
Re-enter GAOLER.                                 FINALE.
Gaoler. Miss Polly and Miss Lucy entreat a Thus, I stand like a Turk, and  his doxies
word with you.                       [Exit.          around,                     [found;
Mac. Gentlemen, adieu!                     From all sides, their glances his passion con[Exeunt BEN BUDGE and MAT. For black, brown, and fair, his inconstancy burns,
Enter Lucy and POLLY.             And the different beauties subdue him by turns:
Each calls forth her charms, to provoke his deMy dear Lucy! my dear Polly! whatsoever           sires,
hath passed between us is now at an end.     Though willing to all, but with one he retires;
TRIO.                     Then think of this maxim, and put off all sorrow,
The wretch of to-day may he happy to-morrow.
Lucy.'Would I might be hanged!                                    %
Polly.              And I would so too!                     CHORUS.
Lucy. To be hang'd with you.               Then think of this maxim, and cast away sorrow,
Polly.             My dear with you.       The wretch of to-day may be happy to-morrow.




GEORGE BARNWELL:
OR,
THE LONDON MERCHANT;
A TRAG'EDY,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY GEORGE LILLO.
REMARKS.
TinS play was first acted at Drury Lane Theatre, with great success. In the newspapers of the time, we find,
that " the queen sent to the play-house in Drury Lane, for the manuscript of George Barnwell, to peruse, which
Mir. Wilkes carried to Hampton-court."-It is written in prose well adapted to the su bject, and exalted enough to
express the sentiments of the characters, which are all thrown into domestic life. The plot' is ingenious, and
the conduct of it affecting. No lesson can be more necessary to inculcate among the valuable body of youths
who are trained to mercantile business, so essential in a commercial country, and who must necessarily have
very large trusts confided to them, than this warning, hov impossible it will be to avoid the snares of ruin, if
they suffer themselves to be drawn into the paths of the harlot, where they will be sure to meet with the most
insatiable avarice on one hand, and an ufnguarded sensibility on the other, which will excite the practice of the
most abandoned artifices, and plunge them headlong into vice, infamy, and ruin.
There are authentic instances on record, one of which we subjoin,* wherein this play has raised such horror
and contrition, as to produce in servants an immediate return to honourable conduct, and to the confidence and
esteem of their employers and friends.
DRAMATIS PE RSONIE.
As originally acted in 1759.    COVENT GARDEN, 1812.    DRURY LANE, 1814.
THOROWGOOD,............. Mr. Bridgewater............lr. Egerton.........Mr. Powell.
BARNWELL,  Uncle  to t Mr. Roberts........              Mr. Murray.........  Mr. R. Phillips.
George.....
GEORGE BARNWELL........Mr. Cibber, jun......... Mr. C. Kemble       Mr. Rae.
TRUEMAN,.............Mr.. Mills............. Mr. Abbot......r. Holland.
BLUNT,............. Mr. R. Whetherilt........... Mr. Atkins.....      Mr. Ray.
GAOLER,.....  Mr. Louis.
JOHN,............Mr. Jefferies.
ROBERT,.....   Mr. Sarjant.
MARIA,.......Mrs. Cibber.......               Miss S. Booth........   Mrs. Horne.
MILLWOOD,.......         Mrs. Butler.................Mrs. Powell.........Mrs. Glover.
LUCY,..................Mrs. Charke.......             Mrs; Gibbs..............Mrs. Sparks.
Officers, with their Attendants, Keeper, and Footmen.
ScENE.-London and an adjacent Village.
* Extract of a Letter from JMr. Ross, the actor, to a friend.'.In the year 1752, during the Christmas-lholidays, I played George Barnwell, and the late Mrs. Pritchard played
Millwood. Doctor Barrowby, physician to St. Bartholomew's Hospital, told me he was sent for by a young
gentleman, in Great St. Helerk's, apprentice to a very capital merchant. He found him very ill with a slow
fever, a heavy hammer pulse, that no medicine could touch. The doctor sent every body out of the room, and
told his patient he was sure thcre was something that oppy essed his mind. After much solicitation on the part
of the Doctor, the youth confessed there was something lay heavy at his heart; but-that he would sooner die than
667




668                          GEORGE BARN WELL.                                         [ACT I.
ACT  I.                       worthy the guests.  Let their be plenty and of
the best, that the courtiers may at least commend
SCENE I.-A  Room in THOROWGOOD'S House. our hospitality.
Enter THOROWGOOD and TRUJEMAN.                Maria. Sir, I have endeavoured not to wrong
your well-known generosity by an ill-timed parTrue. Sir, the packet from Genoa is arrived.   simony.
[Gives letters.    Thorow. Nay,'twas a needless caution; I have
Thorow. Heaven be praised! the storm  that no cause to doubt your prudence.
threatened our royal mistress, pure religion, liber-   Maria. Sir, 1 find myself unfit for conversation.
ty, and laws, is for a time diverted. By this means, I should but increase the number of the company,
time is gained to make such preparation on our without adding to their satisfaction.
part, as may, Heaven concurring, prevent his ma-    Thorow. Nay, my child, this melancholy must
lice, or turn the meditated mischief on himself:   not be indulged.
True. He must be insensible indeed, who is    Maria. Company will but increase it.  I wish
not affected when the safety of his country is you would dispense with my presence.  Solitude
concerned.  Sir, may 1 know by what means? best suits my present temper.
If I am not too bold-                              Thorow. You are not insensible, that it is
Thorow. Your curiosity is laudable; and I chiefly on your account these noble lords do me
gratify it with the greater pleasure, because from  the honour so frequently to grace my board.
thence you may learn how honest merchants, as Should you be absent, the disappointment may
such, may sometimes contribute to the safety of make them  repent of their condescension, and
their country, as they do at all times to its happi- think their labour lost.
ness; that if hereafter you should be tempted to    Maria. He that shall think his time or honour
any action that has the appearance of vice or lost in visiting you, can set no real value on your
meanness in it, upon reflecting on the dignity of daughter's company, whose only merit is that she
our profession, you may with honest scorn reject is yours.  The man of quality who chooses to
whatever is unworthy of it.                      converse with a gentleman and merchant of your
True. Should Barnwell, or I, who have the  worth and character, may confer honour by so
benefit of your example, by our ill conduct bring  doing, but he loses none.
any imputation on that honourable name, we must    Thorow. Come, come, Maria, I need not tell
be left without excuse.                          you, that a young gentleman may prefer your
Thorow. You compliment, young man, [TRuE- conversation to mine, and yet intend me no disMAN bows respectfully.] Nay, I'm  not offended. respect at all; for, though he may lose no honour
As the name of merchant never degrades the in my company,'tis very natural for him  to exgentleman, so by no means does it exclude him: pect more pleasure in yours.  I remember the
only take heed not to purchase the character of time when the company of the greatest and wisest
complaisant at the expense of your sincerity.    man in the kingdom, would have been insipid
True. Sir, have you any commands for me at and tiresomerto me, if it had deprived me of an
this time'                                      opportunity of enjoying your mother's.
Thorow. Only look carefu-lly over the files, to   A1/Iaria. Yours, no doubt, was as agreeable to
see whether there are any tradesmen's bills un- her: for generous minds know no pleasure in sopaid; if there are, send and discharge'em.  We ciety but where'tis mutual.
must not let artificers lose their time, so useful to    Thorow. Thou knowest I have no heir, no
the public and their families, in unnecessary at- child but thee; the fruits of many years' successtendance.                     [Exit TRUEMAN. ful industry must all be thine.  Now it would
give me pleasure, great as my love, to see on
whom you will bestow it. I am daily solicited by
Well, Maria, have you given orders for the en- men of the greatest rank and merit for leave to
tertainment'  I would.have it.in some measure  address you; but I have hitherto declined it, in
divulge it, as it must be~his ~r1uin if it was known. - Trhe doctor- assured him, if he would make him his confidant,
he would by every means in his power serve him. After much conversation, he told the doctor, he was the
second son to a gentleman of good fortune in Hertfordshire; that he had made an improper acquaintance with
a kept mistress of a captain of an Indiaman, then abroad; that he was within a year of being out of his time,
and had been entrusted with cash, drafts, and notes, which he hadmade free with, to the amount of two hundred pounds. That going two or three nights before to Drury Lane, to see Ross and Mrs. Pritchard, iin their
characters of George Barnwell and Millwood, he was so forcibly struck; he had not enjoyed a moment's peace
since, and wished to die, to avoid the shame he saw hanging over him. The doctor asked where his father
was? He replied, he expected him there every minute, as he was sent for by his master upon his being taken
so very ill. The doctor desired the young gentleman to make himself perfectly easy, as he would under,
take his father should make all right. The father soon arrived. The doctor took him into another.room, and,
after explaining the whole cause of his son's illness, begged him to save the honour of his family, and the life
of his son. The father, with tears in his eyes, gave him a thousand thanks, said he would step to his banker,
and bring the money. While the father was gone, Doctor Barrowby went to his patient, and told him every
thing would be settled in a few minutes, to his ease and satisfaction. What is very extraordinary, the doctor
told me, that in a few minutes after he communicated this news to his patient, upon feeling of his pulse, without
the help of any medicine, he was quite another creature. The father returned with notes to the amount of
~200 which he put into his- son's hands-they wept, kissed, embraced. The son soon recovered, and lived to
be a very eminent merchant. Doctor Barrowby never told me the nlame; but the story he mentioned often in
the green-room of Drury Lane Theatre; and after telling it one night when I was standing by, he said to me,'You have done some good in your profession, more, perhaps, than many a clergyman who preached last Sunday'-for the patient told the doctor, that the play raised such horror and contrition in his soul, that he would,
if it would please God to raise a friend to extricate him out of that distress, dedicate the rest of his life to religion
and virtue. Though I never knew his name, or saw him to my knowledge, I had for nine or ten-years, at my
benefit, a note sealed up with ten guineas, and these words,'.2 tribute of gratitude from onse who was lighty
obliged, and saved from ruin, by seeing.Mr. Ross's performance of Barnwell.' "




SCEN.m II.]                G E 1ORG E BARNWELL.                                   669
hopes that, by observation, I should learn which had, and then condemned the wretches to the
way your inclination tends; for, as I know love mines for life, to work for more.
to be essential to happiness in the marriage state,   Lucy. Well, I shall never approve of your
I had rather my approbation should confirm your scheme of government; I should think it much
choice than direct it.                       more politic, as well as just, to find my subjects.7Maria. What. can I say'! How shall I answer an easier employment.
as I ought this tenderness, so uncommon even in    Mill. It is a general maxim among the knowing
the best of parents? But you are without exam- part of mankind, that a woman without virtue,
ple; yet, had you been less indulgent, I had been  like a man without honour or honesty, is capable
most wretched. That I look on the crowd of of any action, though never so vile; and yet
courtiers that visit here, with equal esteem, but what pains will they not take, what arts not use,
equal indifference, you have observed, and I must to seduce us from our innocence, and make us
needs confess; yet, had you asserted your autho- contemptible and wicked, even in their own opirity, and insisted on a parent's right to be obey- nion. Then is it not just, the villains to their
ed, I had submitted, and to my duty sacrificed my cost, should find us so?  But guilt makes them
peace.                                       suspicious, and keeps them on their guard; thereThorow. From your perfect obedience in every fore we can take advantage only of the young
other instance, I feared as much; and therefore and innocent part of the sex, who, never having
would leave you without a bias in an affair where- injured women, apprehend no danger from them.'n your happiness is so immediately concerned.  Lucy. Ay, they must be young indeed!
Allaria. Whether from a want of that just am-   Mill. Such a one I think 1 have found. As I
bition that would become your daughter, or from  have passed through the city, I have often observsome other cause, I know not; but I find high ed him receiving and paying considerable sums
birth and titles don't recommend the man who of money; from thence I conclude he is employed
owns them to my affections.                 in affairs of consequence.
Thorow. I would not that they should, unless   Lucy. Is he handsome?
his merit recommends him more. A noble birth   MIill. Ay, ay, the stripling is well made, and
and fortune, though they make not a bad man has a good face.
good yet they are a real advantage to a worthy   Lucy. Aboutone, and place his virtues in the fairest light.  AlIill. Eighteen.
Maria. I cannot answer for my inclinations;   Lucy. Innocent, handsome, and about eighteen!
but they shall ever be submitted to your wisdom  You'll be vastly happy. Why, if you manage
and authority. And as you will not compel me well, you may keep him to yourself these two or
to marry where I cannot love, love shall never three years.
make me act contrary to mv duty. Sir, have I   Mill. If I manage well, I shall have done with
your permission to retire                    him much sooner. Having long had a design on
Thorow. I'll see you to your chamber.     him, and meeting him yesterday, I made a full
[Exeunt. stop, and gazing wishfully on his face, asked his
name. He blushed, and, bowing very low, anSCENE II.-A  Room in MILLWOOD'S House.  swered, George Barnwell. I begged hlis pardon
Enter MILLWOOD and Lucy.           for the freedom I had taken, and told him that
he was the person I had long wished to see, and to
Mill. How do I look to-day, Lucy?        whom I had an affair of importance to communiLucy. 0, killingly, Madam! A little more red, cate at a proper time and place. He named a
and you'll be irresistible! - But why this more tavern; I talked of honour and reputation, and
than ordinary care of your dress and complexion! invited him to my house. He swallowed the bait,
What new conquest are you aiming at?       promised to come, and this is the time I expect
Mill. A conquest would be new indeed!    him. [Knocking at the door.] Somebody knocks.
Lucy. Not to you, who make'em every day-  D'ye hear, I'm at home to nobody to-day but him.
but to me-Well,'tis what I'm never to expect [Exit Lucy.] Less affairs must give way to those
-unfortunate as I am-   But your wit and of more consequence; and I am strangely mistaken
beauty-                                     if this does not prove of great importance to me,
tlllill. First made me a wretch, and still conti- and him too,.before I have done with him. Now,
nue me so. Men, however generous and sincere after what manner shall I receive him?  Let me
to one another, are all selfish hypocrites in their consider- What manner of person am I to reaffairs with us; we are no otherwise esteemed or ceive?  He is young, innocent, and bashful;
regarded by them, but as we contribute to their therefore 1 must take care not to put him out of
satisfaction.                                countenance at first.
Lucy. You are certainly, Madam, on the wrong
side of this argument. Is not the expense all Enter BARNWELL, bowing very low. LUCY at
theirs? And I am sure it is our own fault if we              a distance.;ha'n't our share of the pleasure.             Mill. Sir, the surprise and joy!
Mill. We are but slaves to men.'            Barn. Madam!
Lucy. Nay,'tis they that are slaves most cer-   Alill. This is such a favour-   [Advancing.
tainly, for we lay them under contribution.    Barn. Pardon me, Madam!
11~ill. Slaves have no property; no, not even   Mill. So unhoped for! [Still advances. BARNin themselves; all is the victor's.          WELL salutes her, and retires in. confusion.] To
Lucy. You are strangely arbitrary in your see you here   excuse the confusionprinciples, Madam.                             Barn. I fear I am too bold.,Mill. I would have my conquest complete, like   Mill. Alas, Sir, I may justly apprehend you
those of the Spaniards in the new world; who think me so. Please, Sir, to sit.' I am ass much
first plundered the natives of all the wealth they at a loss how to receive this honour as I ought,




670                        GEORGE BARNWELL.                                      [ACr 
as I am surprised at your goodness in conferring    Mill. Am I refused by the first man, the seit.                                           cond favour I ever stooped to ask? Go then, thou
Barn. I thought you had expected me: I pro- proud, hard-hearted youth; but know, you are
mised to come.                                the only man that could be found, who would let
Mhill. That is the more surprising: few men me sue twice for greater favours.
are such religious observers of their word.     Barn. What shall 1 do? How shall I go or
Barn. All who are honest are.              stay?
Mill. To one another; but we. simple women    Mill. Yet do not, do not leave me. I with my
are seldom  thought of consequence enough to sex's pride would meet your scorn; but when I
gain a place in their remembrance.            look upon you, when I behold those eyes-Oh!
[Laying her hand on his, as by accident. spare my tongue, and let my blushes —this flood
Barn. Her disorder is so great, she don't per- of tears too, that will force its way, declareceive she has laid her hand on mine. Heavens! what woman's modesty should hide.
how she trembles! What can this mean? [Aside.   Barn. Oh, *heavens!:she loves me, worthless
HIill. The interest I have in all that relates to as I am. Her looks, her words, her flowing tears,
you (the reason of which you shall know hereafter) confess it. And can I leave her then? Oh, never,
excites my curiosity; and were I sure you would  never! Madam, dry up your tears; you shall
pardon my presumption, I should desire to know  command me always. I will stay here for ever,
your real sentiments on a very particular subject.' if you would have me.
Barn. Madam, you may command my poor   Lucy. So, she has wheedled him out of his
thoughts on any subject. I have none that I: virtue of obedience already, and will strip him of
would conceal.                                all the rest, one after another, till she has left him
Mill. You'll think me bold.                as few as her ladyship or myself.     [Aside.
Barn. No, indeed.                             Mill. Now you are kind indeed; but I mean
Mill. WVThat then are your thoughts of love: not to detain you always; I would have you shake
Barn. If you mean the love of women, I have off all slavish obedience to your master; but you
not thought of it at all. My youth and circum- may serve him still.
stances make such thoughts improper in me yet.   Lucy. Serve him still! Ay, or he'll have no
But if you mean the general love we owe to man- opportunity of fingering his cash; and then he'll
kind, I think no one has more of it in his temper not serve your end, I'll be sworn.  [Aside.
than myself  I don't know that person in the
world, whose happiness I don't wish, and wouldn't            Enter BLUNT.
promote, were it in my power. In an especial   Blunt. Madam, supper's on the table.
manner, I love my uncle and my master; but   Mill. Come, Sir, you'll excuse all defects. My
above all, my friend.                         thoughts were too much employed on my guest
Mill. You have a friend, then, whom you love? to observe the entertainment.
Barn. As he does me, sincerely.                                [Exeunt BARN. and MILL.
Mill. He is, no doubt, often blessed with your   Blunt. What, is all this preparation, this elecompany and conversation.                     gant supper, variety of wines, and music, for the
Barn. We live in one house, and both serve entertainment of that young fellow 2
the same worthy merchant.                       Lucy. So it seems.
MIill. Happy, happy youth! Whoe'er thou art,   Blunt. How! is our mistress turned fool at
[ envy thee; and so must all who see and know  last?  She's in love with him, I suppose.
this youth. What have I lost by being formed a   Lucy. I suppose not. But she designs to make
woman! I hate my sex, myself. Had I been a him in love with her, if she can.
man, I might perhaps have been as happy in your   Blunt. What will she get by that? He seems
friendship, as he who now enjoys it is; but as it under age, and can't be supposed to have much
is-Oh!-                                      money.
Barn. I never observed woman before; or this   Lucy. But his master has, and that's the same
is, sure, the most beautiful of her sex. [Aside.] thing, as she'll manage it.
You seem disordered, Madam;-may I know the    Blunt. I don't like this fooling with a handsome
cause?                                       young fellow; while she's endeavouring to en.
Jlill. Do not ask me.- I can never speak it, snare him, she may be caught herself.
whatever is the cause. I wish for things impos-   Lucy. Nay, were she like me, that would cer.
sible. I wo'ild be a servant, bound to the same tainly be the consequence; for, I confess, there
master, to live in the same house with you.   is something in youth and innocence that moves
Barn. How strange, and yet how kind, her mne mightily.
word(s and actions are! and the effect they have    Blunt. Yes, so does the smoothness and plumpon me is as strange. I feel desires I never knew  ness of a partridge move a mighty desire in the
before; *I must begone, while I have power to go. hawk to be the destruction of it.'
[Aside.] Madam, I humbly take my leave.        Lucy. Why, birds are their prey, and men
Mill. You will not, sure, leave me so soon!    ours: though, as you observed, we are sometimes
Barn. Indeed, I must.                      caught ourselves. But that, I dare say, will never
Mill. You cannot be so cruel! I have prepared be the case with our mistress.
a poor supper, at which I promised myself your   Blunt. I wish it may prove so; for you know
company.                                      we all depend upolr her. Should she trifle away
Barn. I am sorry I must refuse the honour her time with a young fellow that there's nothing
you designed me; but my duty to my master calls to be got by, we must all starve.
me hence.  1 never yet neglected his service.   Lucy. There's no danger of that: for I am sure
He is so gentle, and so good a master, that, should  she has no view in this affair but interest.
I wrong him, though he might forgive me, I   Blunt. Well, and what hopes are there of sue.
should never forgive myself.                 cess in that?




Bscg~rNErI.l fGEORGE  BARNVVELL.                                                  671
Lucy. The most promising that can be.'Tis perhaps it might be better for us both that now
true, the youth has his scruples; but she'll soon you loved me less.
teach him to answer them, by stifling his consci-   True. Sure I but dream! Without a cause
ence. Oh, the lad is in a hopeful way, depend would Barnwell use me thus. Ungenerous and
upon it.                          [Exeunt. ungrateful youth, farewell; 1 shall endeavour to
II     f      follow your advice. [Going.] Yet, stay; perhaps
ACT II.   I                I am too rash and angry, when the cause deSCENVE I. —A 1RToom in THoRiwooD's House lmands compassion. Some unforeseen calamity
may have befallen him too great to bear.
Enter BARNWELL.                  Barn. What part am I reduced to act?'Tis
Barn.  How strange are all things round me! vile and base to move his temper thus, the best
Like some thief who treads forbidden ground, of friends and men.                  [Aside.
and fain would lurk unseen, fearful I enter each    True. I am to blame; pr'ythee forgive me,
apartment of this well-known house. To guilty Barnwell. Try to compose your ruffled mind;
love, as if that were toolittle, already have I added and let me know the cause that thus transports
breach of trust. A thief! Can I know myself you from yourself; my friendly counsel may rethat wretched thing, and look my honest friend store your peace.
and injured master in the face?  Though hypo-   Barn. All that is possible for man to do for
crisy may awhile conceal my guilt, at length it man your generous friendship may effect; but
will be known, and public shame and ruin must here, even that's in vain.
ensue. In the mean time, what must be my life?    True. Something dreadful is labouring in your
Ever to speak a language foreign to my heart; breast; oh, give it vent, and let me share your
hourly to add to the number of my crimes, in grief;'twill ease your pain, should it admit no
order to conceal'em. Sure such was the condition cure, and make it lighter by the part I bear.
of the grand apostate, when first he lost his pu-   Barn. Vain supposition! My woes increase
rity. Like me, disconsolate he wandered; and by being observed: should the cause be known,
while yet in heaven, bore all his future hell about. they would exceed all bounds.
him.                                           True. So well I know thy honest heart, guilt
cannot harbour there.
Enter TRUEMAN.                   Barn. Oh, torture insupportable!    [Aside.
True. Barnwell, oh! how I rejoice to see you    True. Then why am I excluded?  Have I a
safe! So will our master, and his gentle daughter; thought I would conceal from you 
who, during your absence, often inquired after you.   Barn. If still you urge me on this hated subBarn. Would he were gone! His officious love ject, I'll never enter more beneath this roof, nor
will pry into the secrets of my soul.    [Aside. see your face again.
True. Unless you knew the pain the whole    True.'Tis strange-but I have donefamily has felt on your account, you can't conceive say but you hate me not.
how much you are beloved. But why thus cold    Barn. Hate you! I am not that monster yet.
and silent?-When my heart is full of joy for   True. Shall our friendship still continue?
your return, why do you turn away-why thus   Barn. It's a blessing I never was worthy of,.avoid me? What have I done? How am I altered yet now must stand on terms; and but upon consince you saw me last? Or rather, what have you ditions can confirm it.
done-and why are you thus changed? for I am    True. What are they?
still the same.                                Barn. Never hereafter, though you should
Barn. What have I done, indeed!   [Aside. wonder at my conduct, desire to know more than
True. Not speak!-nor look upon me!-     I am willing to reveal.
Barn. By my face he will discover all I would    True.'Tis hard; but upon any conditions I
conceal. Methinks already I begin to hate him.  must be your friend.
[Aside.   Barn. Then, as much as one lost to himself
True. I cannot bear this usage from a friend; can be another's, I am yours.  [Emibracing.
one whom till now I ever found so loving; whom    True. Be ever so; and may Heaven restore
yet I love; though his unkindness strikes at the your peace! But business requires our attendance:
root of friendship, and might destroy it in any business, the youth's best preservative from ill, as
breast but mine.                             idleness his worst of snares. Will you go with
Barn. I am not well. [ Turning -to him.] Sleep me?
has been a stranger to these eyes since you be-   Barn. I'll take a little time to reflect on what
held'em last.                                has passed, and follow you. [Exit TRUEMAN.] I
True. Heavy they look, indeed, and swoln might have trusted Trueman, and engaged him
with tears;-now they overflow. Rightly did my to apply to my uncle to repair the wron'g I have
sympathizing heart forebode last night, when thou done my master:-but what of Millwood.  Yet
wast absent, something fatal to our peace.   shall I leave her, for ever leave her, and not let
Barn. Your friendship engages you too far. her know the cause? she who loves me with such
My troubles, whate'er they are, are mine alone; a boundless passion! Can cruelty be duty?  I
you have no interest in them, nor ought your judge of what she then must feel, by what I now
concern for me to give you a moment's pain.  endure. The love of life, and fear of shame, opTrue. You speak as if you knew of friendship posed by inclination strong as death or shame,
nothing but the name. Before I saw your grief like wind and tide in raging conflict met, when
I felt it. E'en now, though ignorant of the cause, neither can prevail, keep me in doubt.  How
your sorrow wounds me to the heart.          then can I determine?
Barn.'Twill not be always thus. Friendship            Enter THOROWGOOD.
and all engagements cease as circumstances and
occasions vary; and since you once may hate me,   Thorow. Without a cause assigned or notlco




672                       GEORGE BARNWELL.                                     [ACT li
given, to absent yourself last night was a fault, visit and deliver a message to you, we were reyoung man, and I came to chide you for it, but ceived by the family without suspicion, and with
hope I am prevented. That modest blush, the much respect conducted here.
confusion so visible in your face, speak grief and   Barn. Why did you come at all.
shame. When we have offended Heaven, it re-   Mill. I never shall trouble you more. I'm come
quires no more: and shall man, who needs him- to take my leave for ever. Such is the malice of
self to be forgiven, be harder to appease?  If my my fate! I go hopeless, despairing ever to return.
pardon, or love, be of moment to your peace, look This hour is all 1 have left; one short hour is all
up secure of both.                           I have to bestow on love and you, for whom I
Barn. This goodness has o'ercome me. [Aside.] thought the longest life too short.
Oh, Sir, you know not the nature and extent of   Barn. Then we are met to part for ever.
my offence; and I should abuse your mistaken    Mill. It must be so. Yet think not that time
bounty to receive it. Though I had rather die or absence shall ever put a period to my grief, or
than speak my shame, though racks could not have make me love you less. Though I must leave
forced' the guilty secret from my breast, your you, yet condemn me not.
kindness has.                                  Barn. Condemn you! No, I approve your reThorow. Enough, enough; whate'er it be, this solution, and rejoice to hear it;'tis just,'tis noeconcern shows you're convinced, and I am satis- cessary;-I have well weighed, and found it so.
fled.. How painful is the sense of guilt to an in-   Lucy. I am afraid the young man has more
genuous mind; some youthful folly, which it were sense than she thought he had.   [Aside.
prudent not to inquire into.                   Barn. Before you came, I had determined noBarn. It will be known, and you'll recall your ver to see you more.
pardon, and abhor me.                          Mill. Confusion!                   [Aside.
Thorow. I never will. Yet be upon your guard    Lucy. Ay, we are all out; this is a turn so unin this gay, thoughtless season of your life: when expected, that I shall make nothing of my part;
vice becomes habitual, the very power of leaving they must e'en play the scene betwixt themselves.
it is lost.                                                                       [Aside.
Barn. Hear me, on my knees, confess-         Mill. It was some relief to think, though absent,
Thorow. Not a syllable more upon this subject: you would love me still; but to find this, as I neit were not mercy, but cruelty, to hear what must ver could expect, I have not learned to bear.
give you such torment to reveal.               Barn. I am sorry to hear you blame me in a
Barn. This generosity amazes and distracts resolution that so well becomes us.both.
me!                                           Mill. I have reason for what I do, but you have
Thorow. This remorse makes thee dearer to none.
me, than if thou hadst never offended. Whatever   Barn. Can we want a reason for parting, who
is your fault, of this 1 am certain,'twas harder have so many to wish we had never met?
for you to offend, than me to pardon.  [Exit.   Mill. Look on me, Barnwell. Am I deformed
Barn. Villain! villain! villain! basely to wrong or old, that satiety so soon succeeds enjoyment?
so excellent a man. Should I again return to  Nay, look again; am I not she whom yesterday
folly? —Detested thought! But what of Millwood you thought the fairest and the kindest of her
then?-Why, I renounce her-I give her up- sex; whose hand, trembling with ecstasy, you
The struggle's over, and virtue has prevailed. pressed and moulded thus, while on my eyes you
Reason  may convince, but gratitude compels. gazed with such delight, as if desire increased by
This unlooked-for generosity has saved me from  being fed?
destruction.                        [Going.   Barn. No more: let me repent my former fotl
Enter a FOOTMAN.                lies, if possible, without remembering what they
were.
Foot. Sir, two ladies from your uncle in the      Wh?
eountry desire to see you..       y  
Barn. Who should they be?  [Aside.] Tell   Barn. Such is my frailty, that'tis dangerous.
them I'll wait upon'em. [EXit FOOT.] Methak * ill. Where is the danger, since we are to part.
them I'll wait upon'em. [Jxzit FOOT.] Methinks
Barn. The thought of that already is too painrI dread to see'ern —Now, every thing alarms me! ful
Guilt, what a coward hast thou made me!  [Exit.     Mill. If it be painful to part, then I may hope,
SCENE 1.-Another Room in T'HOROWOOD'S at least, you do not hate me.
House.                      Barn. No-No-I never said I did-Oh, my
heart!
Enter MILLWOOD, LUCY, and a FOOTMAN.          Iill. Perhaps you pity me?
Foot. Ladies, he'll wait upon you immediately.   Barn.. I do-I do-Indeed I do.
Mill.'Tis very well-I thank you.            Mill. You'll think upon me!
[Exit FOOTMAN.   Barn. Doubt it not, while I can think at all.
EMnill. You may judge an embrace at parting
Enter BARNWELL.                too great a favour, though it would be the last.
Barn. Confusion! Millwood!                 [BARNWEL:L draws back.] A look shall then sup.
Mill. That angry look tells me, that here I am  fice-farewell-for ever.
an unwelcome guest: I feared as much: the un-               [Exeunt MII.LWOOD and LucY.
happy are so every where.                      Barn. If to resolve to suffer be to conquer-I'Barn. Will nothing but my utter ruin content have conquered-Painful victory!
you?                                               Re-enter MI LLWOOD and LucY.
Mill. Unkind and cruel. Lost myself, your
happiness is now my only care.                 2Iill. One thing ~ had forgot-I never must
Barn. How did you -gain admission?        return to my own house again. This I thought
Mill. Saying we were desired by your uncle to proper to let you know, lest your mind should




~ogbi:  Id.e, GEI-O}R G E:EBiA R N W  E L L.                                      673
change, and.you should-seek. in vain to-find me.night, he came this morning, raving, and storming
tfere.  Forgive me this second intrusion; I only like a madman; talks no more...of marriage (so
Came to give you this.caution, and.that- perhaps there's.no hope of making up matters that way,)
-Was needless.                                but vows her ruin, unless she'll allow him the
Barn. I hope it was; yet it is kind, and l same favour that he supposes she granted-you.
must:thank you for it.:.....:-.....: Barn. - Must she be ruined, or find a refuge in,1fill. My friend, your arm.:. [ CT-Luc].Y.] Now, another's arms?
t am gone for ever.':....-:.:l:.[Going.   MIill. He gave me but an hour to resolve in:
Barn.  One thing more —,sure- there:'s. no dan- that's happily spent with you-And now I goger::in- knowing.where you l go..-.tf lyou think.Barn.-. To be exposed:to all. the rigours of the
otherwise -.:-.various seasons.;.the. summer's parching heat,
Mill. Alas!                     [Weeping.. and winter's cold,;. unhoused -to' wander friendless:-:Lucy. We are r ght, I.find-;- that's:my. cue.I sthrough.the. inhospitable: world, -in misery and
[Aside.].A-h.,dear Sirj: she.'s going she knows not: want;.attended with.fear and danger, and purwhither;. but'go she must.                    s....... ued by malice and revenge. Wouldst thou enBarn. Humanity obliges me to wish you well; dure..all this for me, and can I do nothing, nowhy will you thus:.expose:.yourself -to. needless thing, to prevent it?
troubles?  -                                   Lucy.: Tis really a pity there can be no way
L: ucy. Nay, there's no help- for:it;-.she must found out.
quit the.town immediately, and the: kingdom as   Barn.. Oh, where are all my resolutions now?
soon as possible. It was no: small: matter, you:Lucy.. Now, I advised her, Sir, to comply with
may be sure, that could make her resolve- to leave the gentleman.
you..         Barn. Tormenting fiend, away! I had rather
Mill. No more, my friend; since he for whose perish, nay, see her perish, than have her saved
dear sake alone I suffer, and am content to suffer, by him. I will myself prevent her ruin, though
is kind and- pities me; where'er I wander, through with my own. A moment's patience; I'll return
wilds and' deserts, benighted and. forlorn, that immediately.                        [Exit.
thought shall give me comfort.                 -Lucy.'Twas well you came, or, by what I can
Barn. For my sake!-Oh, tell me how, which perceive, you had lost him.
way am I so cursed to bring such ruin on thee!    Mill.'Hush! he's here.
Mill. To know it will but increase your troubles.                                           Re-enter BARNWELL, with a bag of money.
bies.
Barn. My troubles can't be greater than they    Barn. What am I about to do?-Now you,
are.                                          who boast your reason all-sufficient, suppose
Lucy. Well,. well, Sir, if she wont satisfy you, yourselves in my condition, and determine for me;
I will..whether.'tis right to let her suffer for my faults,
Barn. I am bound to you beyond expression.  or, by this small addition to my guilt, prevent
Mill. Remember,- Sir, that: I. desired you not to the ill effects of what is past.-Here, take thib,
hear it..;                  and with it purchase your deliverance; return to
Barn. Begin and ease my expectation.        your house, and live in peace and safety.
Lucy. Why you must know my lady here was   Mill. So, I may hope to see you there again?.
an only child, and her parents dying while she   Barn. Answer me not, but fly-lest in the
was young, left her and her fortune (no inconsi- agonies-of my remorse, I again take what is not
derable one, I assure you) to the care of a gentle- mine to give, and abandon thee to want and miman who has a good estate of his own.         sery.
Mill. Ay, ay, the barbarous man is rich enough;   Mill.' Say but you'll come.
but what are riches when compared to love!      Barn. You are my fate-my heaven, or my
Lucy. For awhile he performed the office of a hell; only leave me now-dispose of me hereafter
fhithful guardian, settled her in a house, hired her as you please. [Exeunt MILIWOOD and LucY.]
servants-But you have seen in what manner she What have I done? Were my resolutions foundhas lived, so I need say no more of that.    ed on reason, and- sincerely made 2 Why then
Mill. How I shall live hereafter, Heaven knows! has heaven suffered me to fall?  I sought not the
Lucy. All:things went on as one could wish, occasion; and if my heart deceives me not, comtill some time ago, his wife dying, he fell v passion and generosity were my motives-But
in love with his charge, and would fain have whyshould I attempt toreason? Allisconfusion,
married her. Now the man is. neither old nor horror, and remorse. I find I am lost, cast down
ugly, but a good, personable sort of a man; but I from all my late-erected hope, and plunged again
don't know it was, she could never endure him. in guilt, yet scarce know how or whyIn short, her ill usage so provoked him, that he   Such zundistinguish'd horrors make my brain,
brought in an account of his executorship,. wherein   Like hell, the seat of darkness and of pain. [Exit
he makes her debtor.to himMill. A trifle in itself, but more than enough               ACT III.
to ruin:me, whom, by this unjust account he had
stripped of all before.                       SCENE I.-A  Room in THOROWGOOD'S House.
Lucy. Now, she having neither money nor  THOROWGOOD and TRUEMAN discovered, nith
friend, except me, who am as unfortunate as her-      account-books, sitting at a table.
self, he compelled her to pass his account, and
give bond for the sum he demanded; but still pro-    Thorow. Well, I have examined your accounts;
vided handsomely for her, and continued  his they are not only just, as I have always found
courtship, till being informed by his spies (truly, them, but regularly kept and fairly entered. I
I suspect some in her own family) that you were commend your diligence: method in business is
entertained in her house, and staid with her all the surest guide. Are Barnwell's accounts ready
VOL. I.... 4Q.        57




674                         GEORGE BARNWELL                                       [ACTIIL
for my inspection?  He does not use to be the    True. Oh, that there were! But few men re
last on those occasions.                       cover their reputation lost, a merchant never.
True. Upon receiving your orders he retired, Nor would he, I fear, though I should find him,
I thought, in some confusion.  If you please, I'll ever be brought to look his injured master in the
go and hasten him.                             face.
Thorow. I'm now going to the Exchange: let   Maria. I fear as much, and therefore would
him  know, at my return I expect to find him  never have my father know it.
ready.                               [Exeunt.    True. That's impossible.
Maria. W'hat's the sum?
Enter MARIA, with a book. Sits and reads.       True.'Tis considerable. I've marked it here,
M/aria. How forcible is truth! The weakest to show it, with the letter, to your father, at his
mind, inspired with love of that, fixed and col- return.
lected in itself, with indifference beholds the united:Maria. If I should supply the money, could
force of earth and hell opposing. Such souls are you so dispose of that and the account, as to
raised above the sense of pain, or so supported  conceal this unhappy mismanagement from my
that they regard it not.  The martyr cheaply  father?
purchases his heaven; small are his sufferings,    True. Nothing more easy. But can you mgreat is his reward. Not so the wretch who tend it  Will you save a helpless wretch from
combats love with duty; whose mind, weakened  ruin? Oh,'twere an act worthy such exalted
and dissolved by the soft passion, feeble and hope- virtue as Maria's! Sure Heaven, in mercy to
less, opposes his own desires.-What is an hour, my friend, inspired the generous thought.
a day, a year of pain, to a whole life of tortures   Maria. Doubt not but I would purchase so
such as these?                                great a happiness at a much dearer price. But
how shall he be found?
Enter TRUEMAN.                     True. Trust to my diligence for that.  In the
True. Oh, Barnwell! Oh, my friend! how  mean time I'll conceal his absence from your faart thou fallen!                              ther, or find such excuses for it, that the real cause
laria. Ha! Barnwell! What of him! Speak, shall never be suspected.
say, what of Barnwell?                          Maria. In attempting to save from shame one
Trute.'Tis not to be concealed: I've news to whom we hope may yet return to virtue, to Heatell of him that will afflict your generous father, ven, and you, the only witnesses of this action, I
yourself, and all who know him.                appeal whether I do any thing unbecoming my
Maria. Defend us, Heaven!                    sex and character.
True. I cannot speak it. See there.            True. Earth nmst approve the deed, and Hea[Gives a letter. ven, I doubt not, will reward it.
Maria. [Reads.] I know my absence will surprise    Maria.  If Heaven succeeds it, I am well re
my honoured master and yourself, and the more, warded. A virgin's fame is sullied by suspicion's
when you shall understand, that the reason of my lightest breath; and, therefore, as this must be a
withdrawing is, my having embezzled part of the secret from my father and the world. for Barn
cash with which 1 was entrusted. After this,'tis well's sake, for mine, let it be so to him. [Exeunt.
needless to inform you, that I intend never to return
again.'hough this might have been, known by ex-  SCENE II.-A Room  in MILLWOOD'S House.
amining my accounts, yet to prevent that unnecessary      Enter Lucy and BLUNT.
trouble, and to cut off all fruitless expectations of my
return, I have left this from the lost           Lucy.  Well, what do you think of Millwood's
GEORGE BARNWELL.   conduct now?  Her artifice in making him  rob
True. Lost, indeed! Yet how he should be his master at first, and the various stratagems by
guilty with what he here charges himself withal, which she has obliged him to continue that course,
raises my wonder equal to my grief. Never had  astonish even me, who know her so well. Being
youth a higher sense of virtue. Justly he thought, called by his master to make up his accounts, he
and as he thought he practised; never was life was forced to quit his house and service, and
more regular than his. An understanding un- wisely flies to Millwood for relief and entertaincommon at his years; an open, generous manli- ment.
ness of temper; his manners easy, unaffected,   Blunt. How did she receive him'l
and engaging.                                    Lucy. As you would expect. She wondered
Maria. This and much more you might have what he meant, was astonished at his impudence,
said with truth. He was the delight of every eye, and, with an air of modesty peculiar to herself,
and joy of every heart that knew him.          swore so heartily that she never saw him before,
True. Since such he was, and was my friend, that she put me out of countenance.
can I support his loss? See, the fairest, happiest   Blunt. That's much, indeed! But how did
maid. this wealthy city boasts, kindly condescends Barnwell behave?
to weep for thy unhappy fate, poor, ruined Barn-   Lucy. He grieved; and, at length, enraged at
well!                                         this barbarous treatment, was preparing to be
M.araria. Trueman, do you think a soul so deli- gone; and making towards the door, showed a
cate as his, so sensible of shame, can e'er submit sum of money, which he had brought from his
to live a slave to vice?                       master's, the last he is ever likely to have from
True. Never, never: so well I know him, I'm  thence.
sure this act of his, so contrary to his nature,   Blunt. But then, Millwoodmust have been caused by some unavoidable ne-   Lucy. Ay, she with her usual address, returned
cessity.                                       to her old arts of lying, swearing, and dissembling;
alr.ias.. Atr there -no means yet to preserve  hung on his neck, wept, and swore'twas meant
in jest. The amorous youth melted into tears,




SCENE IV.]                 G E O RGE BARN W ELL.                                    675
threw the money into her lap, and swore. he. had uncle.-He's alone. —Now  for my disguise.
rather die than think her false.            I [Plucks out a vizor.]-This is his hour of priBlunt. Strange infatuation!               Ivate meditation.  Thus daily he, prepares his
Lucy. But what ensued was stranger still. Isoul for heaven, while I. —— But what have I to
Just then, when every passion with lawless do with heaven -Ha!.no struggles, conscience —
anarchy pvevailed, and reason was in the raging    Hence hence, remorse, and ev'ry thought that's
tempest lost, the cruel, artful Millwood prevailed    good 
upon the wretched youth to promise-what I   The storm that lust began, must-end in blood.
tremble but to think on.                           [Puts on a vizor, draws a pistol, and exit.
Blunt. It am amazed! What can it be?
Lucy.'You will be more so to hear-it is to at-  SCENE IV.-A close walk in a wood.
tempt the life of his nearest relation, and best
benefactor.                                                  Enter UNCLE.
Blunt. His uncle! whom we have often heard    Uncle. If I were superstitious, I should, fear
him  speak of, as a gentleman of a large estate, some danger lurked unseen, or death were nigh.
and fair character in the country where he lives.  A  heavy melancholy clouds my spirits.  My
Lucy. The same. She was no sooner possessed imagination is filled with ghastly forms of dreary
of the last dear purchase of his ruin, but her graves, andl bodies changed by death; when the
avarice, insatiate as the grave, demanded this pale, lengthened visage attracts each weeping eye,
horrid sacrifice; Barnwell's near relation, whose and fills the musing soul-at once with grief and
blood must seal the; dreadful secret, and prevent horror, pity and aversion.. I will indulge the
the terrors of her guilty fears.             thought. The wise man' prepares himself for
Blunt.'Tis time the world were rid of such a death by making it familiar to his mind. When
monster. But there is something so horrid in strong reflections hold the mirror near, and the
murder, that all other crimes seem nothing, when living in the dead behold their future self, how
compared to that; I would not be involved in the does each inordinate passion and desire cease, or
guilt of it for all the world!                sicken at the view!  The mind scarce moves!
Lucy. Nor I, Heaven knows. Therefore let the blood,' curdling and chilled, creeps slowly
us clear ourselves, by doing all that's in our power through the veins; fixed, still, and motionless we
to prevent it. I have Just thought of a way that stand, so like the solemn objects of our thoughts,
to me seems probable.  Will you join with me to we are almost at present what we must be heredetect this cursed design?                  after; till curiosity awakes the soul, and sets it
Blunt. With all my heart. He who knows on inquiry.
of a murder intended to be committed, and does
not discover it, in the eye of the law and reason,
is a murderer.. -' Oh, death! thou strange, mysterious power, seen
Lucy. Let us lose no time. I'll acquaint you every day, yet never'understood but by the inwith the particulars as we go.     [Exeunt. communicative dead, what art thou? The extensive mind of man, that with a thought circles
XCEIVE III. —a coai ntry-sea dst.! fthe earth's vast globe, sinks to the: centre, or ascends above the stars; that worlds exotic finds, or
Enter BARNWELL.                thinks it finds; thy thick clouds,; attempts to
Barn. A dismal gloom obscures the face of the pass in vain; lost and bewildered in the horrid
day. Either the sun has slipped behind a cloud, gloom, defeated, she returns more doubtful than
or journeys down the west of heaven' with. more before, of nothing certain but of labour lost.
than common speed, -to avoid the sight of what I   [During this speech, BARNWELL sometimes
am doomed to act. Since I set forth on this ac-  presents the pistol, and draws it back again.
cursed design, where'er I tread, methinks the solid   Barn. Oh,'tis impossible!
earth trembles beneath my feet.  Murder my   [Throws down the pistol. UNCLE starts, and
uncle! my father's only brother, and since his    attempts to draw his sword.
death, has been to me a father; that took me up    Uncle. A man so near me! armed and maskan infant and an orphan, reared me with tender- edest care, and still indulged me with most paternal   Barn. Nay, then there's no retreat.
fondness! Yet here I stand, his destined murder-   [Plucks a poniard from his breast; and stabs him.
er.-I stiffen with horror at my. own impiety. —   Uncle. Oh, I am slain!'All gracious Heaven,'Tis yet unperformed.-What if I quit my bloody regard the prayer of thy dying servant; bless,
purpose, and fly the place  [ Going, then stops.] with the choicest blessings, my dearest nephew;
-But'whither, oh, whither shall I fly?  Myy forgive my murderer; and' take-my fleeting soul
master's once friendly doors are ever shut against to endless mercy!
me; and without money, Millwood will never see   [BARNWELL throws off his mask, runs to him,
me more;:and she has got such firm possession      and kneeling by him, raises him.
of my heart, and governs there with such despo-   Barn. Expiring saint! - Oh, murdered, martyrtic sway, that life is not to be endured without ed uncle! lift up your dying eyes, and view youi
her. Ay, there's the cause of all my sin and nephew in your murderer. —Oh,'do not look
sorrow:'tis more than love; it is the fever of the so tenderly upon me-Let indignation'lighten
soul, and madness of desire. In vain does nature, from your eyes, and blast me ere you die'-Bv
reason, conscience, all oppose: it; *the impetuous Heaven, he weeps, in pity of my woes.  Tears,
passion bears down all before it, and drives me on tears, for blood.-.The murdered, in the agoto lust, to theft, and murder. Oh, conscience,. niesofdeath, weeps'for:his murderer —Oh, speak
feeble guide to virtue, thou only showest us when' your pious purpose; pronounce'your pardon then,
we go astray,: but wantest power to stop us in our and take me with you-He would, but cannoL. —
course! —Ha'! in yonder shady walk I see my Oh, why with such fitld affection.do you press




676.GEORGE BARNWELL L.-   iv
my murdering hand?-[UNCLE sighs, and dies.]    7whorow. This' earnestness convinces me that
Life, -that hovered on:hislipsabut'till he had sealed  he knows more than he has. yet discovered.
-my pardon, in that sigh expired! IIHe:'s: gone for What, ho! without there, who waits?
ever-and oh:! I'follow-[Swoons; away- upon the
Enter a:Servant.
dead body.] Do I'still breathe, and taint with my:infectious breath the wholesome air. -Let Heaven  Order the groom to. saddle the swiftest horse, and
from its high throne in justice or in mercy, now  prepare to set out with speed; an affair of life
look down on that dear, murdered saint,, and me and death demands his diligence.. [Exit Servant.]
the murderer, and if his vengeance -spares, let For you, whose behaviour on this occasion I have
pity strike, and end my wretched being.  Mur- no time to commend as it deserves, l must engage
der, the worst of crimes, and parricide, the worst your further assistance.  Return, and. observe
of murders, and this the worst of parricides  this Millwood till I come. I have your directions,
Oh may it ever stand alone accurst,        and will follow you as soon as possible. [Exit
The last of murders, as it is the worst. Exit.  LucY.] Trueman, you I am   sure will not be
idle on this occasion.                [Exit.
ACT~ IV..7.'.'' -True. He only who is a friend, can judge of
my distress.                        - [Exit.
-SCENE I.-A Room in THOROWGOOD'S House.
SCENE II.-MILLWOOD'S House.
Enter MARIA, rmeting TRUEMAN.
M~aria. What news of BarnwellEnter M W
True. -None; I have:sought him with the    lTill. 1 wish I knew the event of his design.
~greatest diligence, but all in vain.         The attempt without success would ruin him.Maria. Does my father' yet suspect the cause Well, what have I to apprehend from that? I fear
of his absence?                              too much. The mischief being only intended,
True.- All appeared so just and fair to him, it his friends, through pity of his youth, turn all
is not possible he ever should. But his absence theirrage on me. I should have thought of that
will:no longer hbe concealed. Yourfather is wise  before. Suppose the deed done; then and then'and though he seems to hearken: to:the friendly  only I shall be secure-Or what if he returns
-excuses I would make for Barnwell, yet I am  without attempting it at all-.afraid he regards'em only as such, without sufifering them to influence his judgment.                 Enter BARNWELL, bloody.
But he is here, and I have done him wrong..  His bloody hands show he has done the deed,
Thorow. This-woman here has given me a but show he wants the prudence to conceal it.'sad, and-, bating some circumstances, too probable   Barn. Where shall I hide me?' Whither shall
an account of Barnwell's defection.           I fly to avoid the swift unerrring hand of justice?
Lucy. I am-sorry, Sir, that my frank confes-   M1ill. Dismiss your fears;, though:: thousands
sion of my former unhappy course of life should  had pursued you to the door, yet,. being entered
cause you-to suspect my truth on this occasion.   here, you are as safe as innocence.  I have a ca*Thorow.:It is not that; your confession has vern by heart so cunningly contrived, that the
in it all the appearance of truth. Among many piercing eyes of jealousy and revenge may search
other particulars, she informs me that -Barnwell in vain,- nor find the entrance to the safe retreat.
has been:influenced to break his trust, and wrong, There will. I hide you, if any danger's near.
me, at several times, of considerable sums of mo-   Barn. Oh, hide me-from myself, if it be poshney..  Now, as I know this to be false, I would  sible:- for while I bear my conscience in my bofain doubt'the':whole of her relation,: too dreadful: som, though I were hid where man's eye never
to be willingly believed.                     saw, nor light ere dawned,'twere all in vain. For,
- Maria.- Sir, your pardon;: I:find- myself on a oh, that innate, that impartial judge, will try,
sudden so indisposed that- I must retire. Poor,- convict, and:sentence me for murder, and execute
ruined Barnwell! Wretched, lost Maria!       rme with never-ending torments. Behold these
[Aside; exit. hands all crimsoned o'er with my dear uncle's
Thorow. How:am I distressed on' every side! blood. Here's a sight to: make a statue start
-P-ity-for-that. unhappy youth, fear: for the life of with horror, or turn a living man into a statue!
-a much valued friend-and then my child-the    M/ill. Ridiculous!!  Then it seems you are
-only joy and hope of my declining life!-Her afraid of your own shadow, or, what is less than
-melancholy increases hourly, and -gives me painful a shadow, your conscience.
apprehensions of her loss -Oh, Trueman, this   Barn. Though to man.unknown I did the acperson informs me that your friend, at the insti- cursed act, what can hide me from Heaven's allgation of -an impious woman, is gone to rob and seeing eye?
murder his venerable uncle.                     Mill. No:more of this stuff! What advantage
True. - Oh, execrable deed! I'm blasted with have you made by his death: or what advantage
horror at the thought!                       may yet be made of it? Did you secure the keys
Lucy. This delay may ruin all.             of his treasure, which no doubt were about him?
Thorow. -What to do or think T know not. What gold, what jewels, or what else of.value
That he:ever wronged me I know is false; the have you brought me?
-rest may be so too; there's all my hope.      Barn.:Think you I added sacrilege to murder!
True. Trust not to that; rather suppose all Oh, had you seen him as his life flowed from him
true, than lose a moment's time. -Even now the in a crimson: flood, and heard him praying for me
horrid deed may be doing-dreadful-imagination! -by the;double name of nephew and of murderer;
— atr it:: may be -done, and we be vainly debating  (alas, alas, he knew not then:that his nephew
on the means to prevent what is already past.   -was his murderer!) how would you. have wished,




ScENE II.].G E O R G E.BA R N W.WE:L.L.                                7
as I did, though you had a thousand years:of life     Blunt. The worst:that we know of, the devil dis
to'come, to have given them all to have lengthen- that he first seduces to sin, and betrays to punished his one hour.:But being dead, I fled the sight ment.                          [Exit BLUNT.
Of what my hands -had done;nor:could  I, to.:Mill. They disapprove.of.my. conduct.'then.
have gained: the empire of: the world, have vio- My ruin is resolved.. I see my danger,.but scorn,atedi by theft his sacred corpse.'- "          both it and them.  I was not. born to fall.by. such
- 1ill. *Whining, preposterous,:-canting:villain! weak instruments.:     -.  - e i. [.Going.'
to murder your uncle, rob him of life;i nature's              Enter THOROWGOD.
first, - last, dear prerogative,.after which there's         Enter THROWGOOD.
no. injury, then  fear.to take what.'he- no longer  T.-Thorow. Where is the: scandal. of -her — own
wanted, and bring -to me'your penury and: guilt. sex, and curse of ours...
Do you think I'll hazard my reputation,:nay my. -.Mill. What means.this insolence.?.whom.  do
life, -to: entertain you!?.                     you seek for?
Barn.. Oh, Millwood! —this from. thee'. But    Thorow. Millwood!.-...
I.have -done-If you hate-me, ifyo'u wish.me    Mill. Well, you have found:her then,. I an.
dead, then are you happy; for, oh,'itis sure my: Millwood! 
grief -will quickly end.me. —    -                Thorow. T:hen,you. are the: most impious:.Mill. In this madness he will discover all, and  wretch that e'er the sun beheld! -
involve me in his rain.. We are on a precipice,    Mill. From; your appearance:.I should have: exfrom whence there's- no retreat for: both. - Then- pected wisdom. and moderation:; but your man..
to:preserve myself- [Pauses.]-There:is: no other:'ners belie your maspect,:. What- is: your business
way.'Tis dreadful; but reflection comes too  here? I know you not.
late when danger. s pressing, and. there's, no: room  Thorow. Hereafter.:you.may know. me better.
for choice.  It must be done.:..       I am Barnw.ell's master.....[Aside; rings a bell.    Mill..Then;.you. are master to a villain:; which~,
Enter a &ervant.'          -..-.I think, is not much to your credit..-::-.
Thorowo. Had,he been as: much: above thy- arts,.
Fetch me- an. officer, and seize -this villain;,He  as my credit Jis supeior.to thy malice, Ineed not
has confessed himself a murderer,''Should I let have blushied.to. own'himb... -  -
him escape, I might justly be thought as- bad ashe.   Mill. My arts! I don't understand you, Sir.
[Exit Servant. If he has done amiss, what,:s that to me? wasi
Barn:. Oh,-  Millwood! sure you do:not, you  he my servant, or yours?':you should'have-taughti
cannot mean it.  Stop the messenger; upon my  him better.,.. 
knees, I beg you'd call him back.'Tis fit I die,    Thorow. Whyshould:I wonder to, find suchr
indeed, but not by you.  I will this instant throw  uncommon impudence in one arrived to:such a
myself into the hands of justice, indeed: I will;. height of wickedness.  know, sorceress,,. Im ~noat
for death is all I wish.'But thy ingratitude so ignorant of any of the.- arts, by. which, you first:
tears my-wounded; soul,'tis worse ten thousand  deceived the unwary -youth. I. know how-ow, step
times than death with torture..by step, you've led him on, reluctant and: unwi.-!
Vill. Call it what you will; I am..willing to ling,   w  rime to lcrime, to this  last horrid::acy,
live, and live secure, which nothing but your death. iwhich you contrived, and by your cursed wiles
can warrant..'             I even forced him to. commit.  -''
Barn. If there be a pitch of wickedness that       ill. Ha! Lucy. has got the advantage, and
sets the author beyond -the reach of vengeance, accused me first.  Unless I can turn: the! accusa-,
you must be secure.  But what remains for me, tion, and fix it upon her and:Blunt, ILam lost..;
but a dismal dungeon,: hard -gallingfetters,an....                          -          [Aside.,
awful. trial, and an ignominious death,. justly toW.   Thorow. Had I known  your cruel.design
fall, unpitied and abhorred?   This I could bear, isooner, it had been.preen nted.  To: see. you Jpi,
nay wish not to avoid,.had it.but come from any  nished, as the law directs, is all that now remains
hand but thine...'.Poor satisfaction! For he, innocent as he is, comEnter BLUNT, Offlcer; and Attendants.       pared to you, must suffer too.:'Mill.' Heaven defend me!conceal a murderer!, Mill. I find, Sir, we are' both unhappy in our
here, Sir, take this youth into your custody, I,servants..I was surprised at such ill treatment
accuse him  of murder, and will appeat'to'make  without cause, from a gentlemyanofyour appear-,
good'my charge.;' [ They seize him. a nce, and  therefore too hastily-returned,it, for
Barn. To whom, orcwhat, or how, sihall I cmm. which I ask your pardon.  I now perceive you.
plarn.? I'll not accuse her.  The hand ofl l    I cHrvn- have been, so far imposed;on, as to think.me enis' i  it, and'this' the punishment of lust and  gaged in a former correspondence with your ser-..
parricide''' -'-.'''                    ant, and some way or other accessary to his. un-'doing.
Be warn'd, ye youths, who see my sad despair.;  oing.        arge       as the cause, the.:le
Thoro w. I     a s.h...aue..sole5
Avoid lewd women, false as they are fair. 
B- y my example, lea~rn'to shun my fate,      cause, of all his guilt, and all his sufibring, of all
(How wretched is the man who's wise too late )  e now endures, and must endure, till;   violent
Ere innocence, and fame, and life be' lost,    and shameful death shall put a dreadful period. to'Here pur(hase wisdom cheaply at my cost.'   his life and miseries together.
[Exeunt BARNWELL, Officer, and Attendants.    Mill.'Tis very strange! But, who's secure,
-Mill..Where.'s Lucy.Q why is -she absent at from scandal.and detraction?.So far.. from'consuch a time?...                                tributing to his ruin, I never spoke to him. till.
Blunt. Would I had been so too! Lucy will since this fatal accident, which I, lament as much.
soon be.here;- and I hope' to thy confusion, thou  as. you.'Tis true I- have a.servant, on.,whose
devil!;..                  account he hath of late frequented my house. If..
m1ill. Insolent! this to me!'   she has.abused my good opinion,of. her, am  I to,
57*




678                        GEORGE BARNWELL.                                       ArTY v.
blame?- Has not Barnwell done the same by and contempt. iRiches, no matter by wnat means
you?: -obtained, I.saw secured the worst. of men from
Thorow. I hear you. Pray go on.            both; I found it therefbre necessary to be rich,
Mill. I have been informed he had a violent and to that.end: summoned all my arts. You call
passion for her, and she for him; but till now I'ern wicked; be it so; they were such as my conalways thought it innocent. I know her poor,' versation with your sex had furnished me withal
and given to expensive pleasures. Now, who can   -Thorow. Sure none but the worst of men contell but she may have influenced the amorous youth versed with. thee!
to Vpmmit this murder, to supply her extravagan-  -Mill. Men of all degrees,. and all professions, 1
cies-It must be so. I now recollect a thou- have: known,'yet found no, difference, but in their
sand circumstances that confirm it. I'll have her, several' capacities; all were alike, wicked to:the
and a man-servant whom I suspect as an accorn- utmost of their power.  What are your laws of
plice, secured immediately.     [ Ofbrs to go. which you make your boast, but the fool's wisdom,
Thorow. Madam, you pass not this way. I and the coward's valour, the instrument and
see your design, but shall protect them from your screen of all your villanies?  By thenl you pumalice.                                      nish in others what. you act; yourselves, or would
M: /lill. I hope you will not use your influence, have acted, had you been in their circumstances.
and the credit of your name, to screen such iguilty  The judge, who condemns the poor man for being
wretches. Consider. Sir, the wickedness of per- a thief, had been a thief himself had he been poor.
suading a thoughtless youth to such a crime!    -Thus you go on deceiving and deceived, harassT; Thorow. —I -do- and of betraying him when ing, plaguing, and destroying orie another. But
it was done.                                 women are your universal prey i
VMill. That which you call betraying him, may    Women, by whom you are, the source of joy,
convince you of my innocence. She who loves   With cruel arts you labour to destroy:
him, though she contrived the murder, would   A thousand ways our ruin you pursue,
never have delivered him into the hands of justice,   Yet blame in us those arts first taught by you.
as tI, struck with horror at his crimes, have done.    Oh, may from hence each violated maid,
Thorow. How should an unexperienced youth   By flattering, faithless, barbarous man'betray'd,
escape her snares? Even I, that with just preju-    When robb'd of innocence and virgin fame,
dice came prepared,: had'by' her. artful story   From your destruction raise a nobler name;
been deceived, but that my strong conviction of   T  avenge their sex's wrongs devote their mind
her guilt makes even a doubt impossible. [Aside.]re Millwoods prove toplague mankin
Those whom  subtilly you would accuse, you                                        [
know are your accusers; land,which proves un-                 ACT:V.
answerably their innocence and your guilt, they: 
accused you before the:deed was done, and didA  Dungeon.    able, and a l
all that was in their power to prevent it.                BARNWELL reading
Mill.' Sir, you are very hard to be convinced;   Enter THORowGOOD, at a distance.
but I have a proof, which, when produced,. will   Thorow. There see the bitter fruits of passion's
silence all objection;     [Exit, MILLWOOD. detested reign, and sensual appetite indulged: severe reflections, penitence,  and tears.
Enter LucY, TRUEMAN, BLUNT, Officers, 4c.,    Barn. My honoured, injured master, whose'"Lucy. Gentlemen, pray place yourselves, some goodness'has covered me a thousand times with
on one'side of: that door,' and some on the other; shame, forgive this last unwilling disrespect. Inwatch her entrance, and act as your prudence shall deed I saw you not.
direct you. This way; [To THOROWGOOD.] and    ThoroTo.'Tis well'; I hope you are better emnote her behaviour; I have observed her; she's ployed in viewing of yourself;.: your journey's
driven to the last extremity, and is forming some long, your time'for preparation almost spent. I
desperate resolution. I gues'at their design.  sent a reverend divine to teach you to improve it,
Re-enter. MILLWOOD wth a p..tol, TUEMAN   and should be glad to hear of his success.
Barn. The word of truth which he recomsecures her..
mended for my constant companion in this my
True. Here thy power ofdoing mischief ends. sad retirement, has at length removed; the doubts
deceitful, cruel, bloody woman!' I laboured under. From thence I have learned:Mnill. Fool, hypocrite, villain, man!!  Thou the infinite extent of heavenly mercy. How shall
canst not call me that.                      I describe my present state of mind?  I hope in
True.: To call- thee woman were to wrong thy doubt, and trembling I rejoice; I feel my grief
sex, thou devil.'                            increase,'even as my fears give way, Joy and
Mill. That imaginary being is an emblem of gratitude now supply more tears than' the horror
thy cursed sex collected. A mirror, wherein each and anguish of despair before.
particular. man may see his own likeness, and    Thorow. These are the genuine signs of true
that of all mankind.                         repentance; the only preparatory, the certain way
Thorow, Think not, by aggravating the faults to everlasting peace.
of others,'to extenuate thy own, of which the   Barn. What do I owe' for all vour generous
abuse of such uncommon perfections of mind and kindness? But though I cannot, Heaven can and
body is not the least.:                   will reward you.
MIill. If such I had,: well may I curse your bar-    Thorow. To see thee thus, is joy too great for
biarous sex, who robbed me of'em ere I knew' words. Farewell.-Heaven strengthen thee! —
their worth; then' left me, too late, to count their Farewell.
value by tneir loss.-Another, and another spoiler   Barn. Oh, Sir, there's something I would say,
came, and all my gain was poverty and reproach. if my sad swelling heart would givemrie leave.
My v soul disdained, and yet "'disdains, dependence    Thorow. Give it vent awhile and try.




SCONE I.]                   GREORGE B AR NWELL.                                    679
Barn. I had a friend-'tis true I am unworthy bracing.] Where's now the anguish that you
-yet methinks your generous example might promised? Oh, take, take some of the joy that
persuade. Could I not see him once, before 1 go overflows my breast!
from whence there's no return!  True. I do, I do. Almighty Power! how
7Ihorow. He's coming, and as much thy friend hast thou made us capable to bear at once the
as. ever. I will not anticipate his sorrow; too extremes of pleasure and of pain!
soon he'll see the sad effects of this contagious
ruin. -This torrent of domestic misery bears                Erter KEEPER.
too hard upon me. I must retire, to indulge a   Keep. Sir.
weakness I find impossible to overcome. [Aside.]    True. I come.          [Exit KEEPER.
Much loved-and much lamented youth!-Fare-   Barn. Must you leave me? Death would soon
well..-Heaven strengthen thee!-Eternally  have parted us for ever.
farewell.                                      True. Oh, my Barnwell, there's yet another
Barn. The best of masters, and of men- task behind. Again your heart must bleed for
Farewell. While I live let me not want your others' woes.
prayers.                                       Barn. To meet and part with you, I thought
Thorow. Thou shalt not. Thy peace being  was all I had to do on earth. What is there more
made with Heaven, death is already vanquished. for me to do or suflfer 
Bear a little longer the pains that attend this    True. I dread to tell thee, yet it must be known!
transitory life, and cease from pain for ever. [Exit Maria —
Barn. Perhaps I shall. I find a power within,   Barn. Our master's fair and virtuous daughter?
that bears my soul above the fears of death, and,   True. The same.
spite of conscious shame and guilt, gives me a   Barn. No misfortune, I hope, has reached that
taste of pleasure more than mortal.          maid! Preserve her, Heaven, from every ill, to
show mankind that goodness is your care!
Enter TRUEMAN.                   True. Thy, thy misfortunes, my unhappy
Barn. Trueman!-Myv friend, whom  I so friend have reached her ear. Whatever you and
wished to see; yet, now he's here, I dare not I have felt, and more, if more be possible, she
look upon him.                      [ Weeps. feels for you.
Triue. Oh, Barnwell, Barnwell!               Barn. This is indeed the bitterness of death.
Barn. Mercy! mercy! gracious Heaven!                                            [Aside.
For death, but not for this, was I prepared.   True. You must remember (for we all observTrue. What have I suffered since 1 saw thee ed it) for some time past, a heavy melancholy
last! What pain has absence given me!-But oh, weighed her down. Disconsolate she seemed,
to see thee thus!-                          and pined and languished from a cause unknown;
Barn. I know it is dreadful-! I feel the an- till, hearing of your dreadful fate, the long stifled
guish of thy generous soul-But I was born to flame blazed out, and in the transport of her
murder all who love me.         [Both weep. grief discovered her own lost state, while she laTrue. I come not to reproach you; 1 thought mented yours.
to bring you comfort. Oh, had you trusted me   Barn. [Weeping.] Why did you not let me
when first the fair seducer tempted you, all might die, and never know its
have been prevented.                           True. It was impossible. She makes no seBarn. Alas, thou knowest not what a wretch cret of her passion for you; she is determined to
I've been. Breach of friendship was my first and see you ere you die, and waits for me to introduce
least offence.  So far was I lost to goodness, so her.                             [Exit.
devoted to the author of my ruin, that had she   Barn. Vain, busy thoughts, be still! What
insisted on my murdering  thee-I think-I avails it to think on what I might have been?  I
should have done it.                         am now what I've made myself.
True. Pr'ythee, aggravate thy faults no more.
Barn. I think I should! Thus good and ge.        Re-enter TRUEMAN, with MARIA.
nerous as you are, I should have murdered you!    True. Madam, reluctant I lead you to this
True. We have not yet embraced, and may dismal scene. This is the seat of misery and
be interrupted. Come to my arms.             guilt. Here awful justice reserves her public vic
Barn. Never, never, will I taste such joys on tims. This is the entrance to a shameful death.
earth; never will I sooth my just remorse.  Are   AMaria. To this sad place then, no improper
those honest arms and faithful bosom fit to em- guest, the abandoned and lost Maria brings desbrace and support a murderer?  These iron fet- pair, and sees the subject and the cause of all
ters only shall clasp, and flinty pavement bear me; this world of wo.  Silent and motionless he
[Throwing himself on the ground.] even these -stands, as if his soul had quitted her abode, and
are too good for such a bloody monster.      the lifeless form alone was left behind.
True. Shall fortune sever those whom friend-   Barn. I groan, but murmur not. Just Heaven!
ship joined?  Thy miseries cannot lay thee so I am your own; do with me what you please.
low, but love will find thee. Here will we offer   Maria. Why are your streaming eyes still fixed
to stern calamity; this place the altar, and our- below, as though thou'dst give the greedy earth
selves the sacrifice.  Our mutual groans shall thy sorrows, and rob me of my due? Were hapecho to each other through the dreary vault; our piness within your power, you should bestow it
sighs shall number the moments as they pass; where you pleased; but in your misery I must
and mingling tears communicate such anguish, and will partake.
as words were never made to express.           Barn. Oh, say not so; but fly, abhor, and
Barn. Then be it so. [Rising.] Since you leave me to my fate. Consider what you are.
propose an intercourse of wo, pour all your griefs So shall I quickly be to you-as though' I had
into my breast, and in exchange take mine. [Em- never been.




680                          GE ORG E B A:R!NV W EiL                                [ACT: V.
Mlaria. When I forget you, I must be so:inaued. were::mine —[<She -inclines towards: him-; they
Reason, choice, virtue, all forbid it.  Let women, embrace.]-Exalted goodness!: -Oh-: turn your
like Millwood, if there are more such women, eyes from earth and' me. to Hleaven, where virtue
smile in prosperity, and in adversity forsake.' Be like yours is ever; heard.  Pray -for the -peace of
it the pride of virtue to repair, or to; partake, the  my departing: soul! Early my race of wickedness
ruin such have made.                began, and soon I reached the summit.. Thus
True. Lovely, ill-fated maid!              I justice, in compassion to -mankind,: cuts. off. a
Maria. Yes, fruitless is my love, and unavailing  wretch: like: me, by: one such' example to secure
all my sighs and tears.  Can they save thee from  thousands from' future ruin.
approaching death q —from  such a death.-Oh.
sorrowc ing desupportablthei-from  such: a       If any youth, like you, in future times
srroinsup prabe!           s         Shall mourn my fate, though he abhors my crimes,
Barn. Preserve her, Heaven, and restore her
peace, nor let her death be added to my'crimres!-    And to my sorrowsgive a pitying tear;
And to my sorrows give a pitying tear;
[Bell tolls.] I'm summoned to my fate.'  To each such melting eye and throbbing heart
Re-enter KEEPER.                   Would gracious Heaven this benefit impart:
Never to know my guilt, nor feel my pain,
Keep. Sir, the officers attend you. Millwood    Then must you own you ought not-to complailn,
is already summoned.                             Since you nor weep, nor I shall: die, in. vain.
Barn. Tell'em I'm  ready. [Exit KEEPER.]                                  [Exit BARNWELL
And now, my friend, farewell. [Embracing.]    True. In vain:: 
Support and comfort, the best you can, this mourn-  ~With bleeding hearts, andiweeping eyes, we show
ing fair. No more-Forget not to pray for me.-    A humane, gen'rous sense of others':wo,
Turning to MARIA.]-Would you, bright - ex-   Unless we mark what drew their ruin on,;
cellence, permit me the honour of a chaste em-   And, by avoiding that, prevent our own.
brace, the last happiness this world- could give              [The curtain descends to slow music.




TEHE HY POC'RITE:
A C OM1EDY
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY ISAAC BICKERSTAFF.
REMARKS.
Tins alteration' of- Cibbers JNonjuror, by Bickerstaff, was acted at Drury Lane, 1768. The ingenious alterer
says, in his preface, that he should be under no obligation to answer objections to:.his play, being accountable
for none of its faults, as he claims none of'its beauties. 
The Vsonjuror, written to expose a party, would not interest the present age,; because the follyand roguery it
was designed to ridicule no longer exist; but the substitution, for Doctor Wolf, of the'Tartuffe of Moliere.
(Doctor Cantwell of the Hypocrite) has rendered it agreeable to modern times. Little more: than the character
of Mawworm was written by Bickerstaff, and tha:t- principally for the sake of -the comic talent of Weston.....
It is a valuable trait of this comedy, that it carefully distinguishes between rational piety, and the hypocrisy;
fanaticism, and outrageous pretensions to sanctity, which it so severely satirises.
DRAMATIS PERSON -E.
DRURY LANE, 1814.                            DRURY LANE, 1814.
SIR JOHN LAMBERT,.........    Mr. Powell.  -  OLD. LADY LAMBERT,...........Mrs. Sparks.
DOCTOR CANTWELL........... Mr. Dowton.    YOUNG LADY LAMBERT,........ Mrs. Orger.
COLONEL LAMBERT.............Mr.  ench.    CHARLOTTE,               Mrs. Edwin.
DARNLEY,......Mr. Holland..BETTY,.............   Mrs. Chatterley.
SEYWARD.......................Mr. Barnard.
MAWWORM...................Mr. Oxberry.              SCEE.-London.:
ACT I.                        Sir J. Oh, you go to church! you go to church!
SCELNE I.-A  Hall in SIR JOHN LAMBERT'S  -Wonderful! wonderful! to bow, and grin, and
House.   i                 cough, and sleep: a fine act of devotion indeed.
Col. L. Well but, dear SirEnter SIR JOHN LAMBERT and COLONEL           Sir J. Colonel, you are an Atheist.
LAhMBERT.                      Col. L. Pardon me, Sir, I am none: it is a
Col..L. Pray consider, Sir.                 character I abhor,; and next to that, I abhor the
Sir J So I do, Sir, that 1 am her father, and  character of an enthusiast.
will dispose of her as I please.                 Sir J. Oh, you do so; an enthusiast!-this is
Col. L. I do not dispute your authority, Sir; the fashionable phrase, the bye-word, the nickbut as I am your son too, -I think it my duty to be name, that our pleasure-loving generation give to
concerned for your honour. Have not you counte-. those feww.ho have a sense of true sanctity.
nanced his addresses to my sister.- has not she    Col. L. Say, canting, Sir.
received them? —Mr. Darnley's birth and fortune'   Sir J.-; I tell you what, son, as I have told you
are well known to you; and I dare swear, he may  more than once,.you will draw some heavy judgdefy the world to lay a blemish on his character.-  ment on your head one day or other.
Sir J. Why then, Sir, since I am -to -be cate-    Col. L. So says the.charitable Doctor Cant
chised, I must tell you I do not like:his character'; well; you have taken'him into your house, and in
he is a world-server, a libertine, and has no more return he gives over half your family to the devil.
religion than you have.:                        Sir J. Do not abuse the doctor, colonel; it is not
Col. L. Sir, we neither of us think it proper to the way to my favour.  I know you. cannot bear
make a boast of our religion; but, if you please to him, because he is not one of your mincing preachinquire, you will find thatwve go to church as or- ers.-He holds; up the glass. to. your, enormities
derlv as the rest of our neighbours.          shows you to yourselves in your genuine colours
VOL. I....4 R                                                                   681




682                          THE HYPOCRI rE.                                     LACT.
Col. L. I always respect piety and virtue, Sir;   Char. Oh,. love a riddle dearly- Comne-let's
but there are pretenders to religion, as well as to hear it.
courage; and as we never find the truly brave to    Col. L. Nay, pshaw! if you wili be serious
be such as make much noise about their valour; say so.
so, I apprehend, the truly good seldom or never    Char. 0 lard, Sir! I beg your pardon-there
deal much in grimace.                         -there's my whole form  and features, totally
Sir J. Very well, Sir; this is very well.  disengaged and lifeless, at your service; now, put
Col. L. Besides, Sir, I would be glad to know, them in what posture of attention you think fit.
by what authority the doctor pretenas to exercise                [Leans on him awkwardly.
the clerical function. It does not appear clearly    Col. L. Was there ever such a giddy devil!to me that he ever was in orders.             Pr'ythee, stand up. I have been talking with my
Sir J. That is no business of yours, Sir.-But, father, and he declares positively you shall not
I am better informed.-However, he has the call receive any further addresses from Mr. Darnley.
of zeal.                                        Char. Are you serious?
Col. L. Zeal-!                                Col. L. He said so this minute, and with some
Sir J. Why, colonel, you are in a passion.  warmth..
Col. L. I own I cannot see with temper, Sir, so    Char. I am glad on't, with all my heart.
many religious mountebanks impose on the un-    Col. L. How! glad!
wary multitude; wretches, who make a trade of    Char. To a degree. Do you think a man has
religion, and show an uncommon concern for the any more charms for me for my father's liking
next world, only to raise their fortunes with great- him 1 no, Sir, if Mr. Darnley can make his way
er security in this.                          to me now, he is obliged to me, and to me only.
Sir J. Colonel, let me hear no more; I see you  Besides, now it may have the face of an amour
are too hardened to be converted now: but since indeed, now one has something to struggle for;
you think it your duty, as a son, to be concerned  there's difficulty, there's danger, there's the dear
for my errors, I think it as much mine, as a fa- spirit of contradiction in it too-Oh! I like it
ther, to be concerned for yours. If you think fit mightily.
to amend them, so; if not, take the consequence.    Col. L. I am glad this does not make you think
Col. L. Well, Sir, may I ask you, without of- the worse of Darnley-but my father's consent
fence, if the reasons you have given me are your might have clapped a pair of horses more to your
only reasons for discountenancing M r. Darnley's coach perhaps, and the want of it may pinch your
addresses to my sister l                     fortune.
Sir J. Are they not flagrant?  would you have    Char. Burn fortune; am not I a fine woman.
me marry my daughter to a Pagan.         and have not I twenty thousand pounds in my
Col. L. He intends this morning paying his re- own hands?
spects to you, in hopes to obtain your final con-   Col. L. Yes, sister; but with all your charms,
sent; and desired me to be present as a mediator you have had them in your hands almost these
of articles between you.                     four years.
Sir J. I am glad to hear it.                  Char. Pshaw! and have not I had the full
Col. L. That's kind indeed, Sir.          swing of my own airs and humours these four
Sir J. May be not, Sir; for I will not be at years? but if I humour my father, I warrant he'll
home when he comes: and because I will not tell make it three or* four thousand more, with sonme
a lie for the matter, I'll go out this moment.  unlicked lout —a comfortable equivalent, truly!Col. L. Nay, dear Sir-                     No, no; let him light his pipe with his consent,
Sir J. And, do you hear-because I will not if he please. Wilful against Wise for a wager.
deceive him either, tell him I would not have him    Col. L. But pray, sister, has my father ever
lose his time in fooling after your sister-In short, proposed any other man to you?
I have another man in my head for her.  [Exit.   Char. Another man! let me know why you
Col. L. Another man! It would be worth one's ask, and I'll tell you.
While to know him' pray Heaven this canting    Col. L. Why, the last words he said to me
hypocrite has not got some beggarly rascal in his were, that he had another man in his head for you.
eye for her. I must rid the house of him at any    Char. And who is it? who is it? tell me, dear
rate, or all the settlement I can hope for from my brother.
father is a castle in the air;-My sister may be    Col. L. Why, you don't so much as seem surruined too-here she comes. If there be another prised.
man in the case, she, no doubt, can let me into    Char. No;? but I'm impatient, and that's as
the secret.                                  well.
f  Enter CHARLOTTE.                Col. L. Why how now, sister?
Char. Why sure, brother, you know very litSister, good morrow; I want to speak with you.  tle of female happiness, if you suppose the surCha'r. Pr'ythee then, dear brother, don't put on prise of a new lover ought to -shock a woman of
that wise, politic face, as if your-regiment was go- my temper-don't you know that I am a coquette?
ing to be disbanded, or sent to the West Indies,   Col. L. If you are, you are the first that ever
and you obliged to follow it.                was sincere enough to own her being so.
Col. L. Come, come, a truce with your rail-    Char. To a lover, I grant you; but not to you;
lery: what I have to ask of you is serious, and I I make no more of you than a sister: I can say
beg you would be so in your answer.          any thing to you.
Char. Well, then, provided it is not upon the    Col. L. I should have been better pleased, if you
subject of love, I will be so-but make haste too-  had not owned it to ime-it's a hateful character.
for I have not had my tea yet.                  Char. Ay, it's no matter for that, it's violentCol. L. Why it is, and it is not, upon that sub- ly pleasant, and there's no law against it, that 1
ject.                                         know of.




SRNE I.]                     THE  H YPOCRITTE.                                       683
Col. L. Darnley's like to have a hopeful time  entirely surrendered to. her discretion, while the
with you.                                      least sentiment holds out against her, a woman
Char. Well; but don't you really know who it must be downright vain to think'her conquest,s my father intends me.                      completed 
Col. L. NotI, really; but I imagined you' mighti  lDarn. There we differ, Madam; for' in my
and therefore thought to advise with you about it. opinion, nothing but the most excessive vanity
Char. Nay, he has not opened his lips to ame could value or desire such a conquest.
yet-are you sure he is gone out?'             Char. Oh, d'ye hear him, brother? the creature
Col. L. You are very impatient to know, me- reasons with me; nay, has the effrontery to think
thinks; what have you to do to concern yourself me in the wrong too! 0 lud! he'd make a horrid
about any man but Darnley'             tyrant-positively 1 won't have him.
Char. 0 lud! O lud! pr'ythee brother don't be    Darn. Well, my comfort is, no other man will
so wise; if you had an empty house to let, would  easily know whether you'll have him or not.
you be displeased to hear there were two people    Char. Am  I not a vain, silly creature, Mr.
about it? besides, to be a little serious, Darnley  Darnley?
has a tincture of jealousy in his temper, which    Darn. A  little bordering upon the baby,- I
nothing but a subs.tantial rival'can cure.    must own.
Col. L.'Oh, your servant,'Madam! now you    Char. Laud! how  can you love a body so
talk reason. I am' glad you are concerned enough then? but I don'tthink you lovye me though-do
for Darnley's faults, to think them worth your'you?
mending; ha, ha!                                  Darn. Yes, faith, I do; and so shamefully, that
Char.' Concerned! why, did I say that?-look  I'm in hopes you doubt it.
you, I'll deny it all to him —well, if ever I'm seri-   Char. Poor man! he'd fain bring me to rea
ous with him again-                            5son.
Col. L. Here he comes; be as merry with him    Darn. 1 would indeed.-Nay, were it but possias you please.'ble to make you serious only when you should be
so, I should think you the most amiableEnter, DARNLEY.
Enter. DARNLEY.'        Char. 0 lud! he's civilDarn. My dear-colonel, your servant.           Darn. Come, come, you have good sense; use
Cot. L. I am glad you did not come sooner; for me but with that, and, make me what you please.
in the humour my father left me,'twould not have    Char. Laud! 1 don't desire to make any thing
been a proper time for you tio have pressed your of you, not I.
affair-I touched upon't-but-Ill tell you more    Darn. Come then, be generous, and swear at
presently; in the meantime lose no ground with  least you'll never marry another.
my. sister.                                      Char. Ah, laud! now  you have spoiled all
Darn. I shall always think myself obliged to  again:-besides, how can I be sure of that, before
your frie ndship, let my success be what it will-  I have seen this other man my brother spoke to
Madarfi —your most obedient —what have you  me of?.
got there, pray?:..Darn. What riddle's this?
r. [Reading.]  Her lively looks a spright-    Col. L. I told you, you did not know all. To
ly mind disclose;                     be serious, my father went out but now, on purQuick as hereyes, and as unfix'd as those-"    pose to avoid you.-In  short, he absolutely reDarn. Pray, Madam, what is't 1'tracts his promises; says, he would not have you
Char. "Favours to  ne, to all she smiles ex- fool away your time after my sister; and in plain
tends-"                               terms told me, he had another man in his head
Darn. Nay, I will see.'for her.
Char. " Oft she rejects, but never once offends."    Darn. Another man! who? what is he? did
Col. L. Have a care; she has dipped into her not he name him?
own character, and she'll never forgive you, if you   Cbl. L. No; nor has he yet spoke of him to my
don't let her go through with it.              sister.
Darn. I beg your pardon, Madam.                Darn. This is unaccountable!-what can have
Char. "Bright as the sun her eyes the gazers given him this sudden turn.?
strike,                                  Col. L. Some whim'our conscientious doctor
And like the sun they shine on all alike." Um-  has put in his head, I'1 lay my life.
um-'I                                            Darn. He! he can't be such a villain; he proDarii. That is something like indeed.        fesses a friendship for me.
Col. L. You would say so, if you knew all.     Col. L. So much the worse.
Darn. All what? pray what do you mean.       Darn. But on what pretence, what grounds,
Col. L. Have a little patience; I'll tell you im- what reason, what interest, can he have to oppose
mediately.                                     me?
Char. "If to her share some female errors fall,   Col. L. Are you really now as unconcerned as
Look: on herface-and you'llforgetthem all."    you seem to be?
Is not that natural, Mr. Darnley?               Char. You are a strange dunce, brother-you
Darn. For a woman to expect, it is indeed.    know no more'of love: than I do: of a regimentChar. And can you blame her, when'tis at the You shall see now how I'll comfort him-Poor
same time a proof of the poor man's passion and' Darnley, ha, ha, ha!
her power?'''           Darn. I don't wonder at your good humour,
"Darn. So that you think the greatest compli- Madam, when you have so substantial an opporment a lover can make his mistress, is to give up tunity to make me uneasy for life.
his reason to her.                                Char. 0 lud! how sentimentious~he is! well,
Char.' Certainly; for what have your lordly'sex  his reproaches have that greatness of soul-the
to boast of but your understanding, and till that's confusion they give is insupportable. —




684                           T::H E  E'H Y.P O CRIT. E_  [ACT.L
Enter BETTY.                  hear, if any. one inquires for me, say I am gone to
Newgate, and the Marshalsea, to distribute alms.
Betty, is the tea ready I ~
[Exit SEYWARD,
Bet. Yes, Madam.
hBet. Yes, Madam.  bouriservant.'          Old Lady L. Well but, worthy doctor, why
Char. Mr. Darnley, your servant,  will you go to the. prisons:yourself-cannot you
Co.L. Soyou [Exeunt CHAR. and e BET. send the money? —ugly, distempers are often
Col. L.  So;you have made a fine piece of work catched there-have a care of your health; let us
on't, indeed!.
Darn. Dear Tom, pardon me if I speak a little   keep one good man, at least, amongst us.
Dr, C. Alas, Madam, I am not a good manl; I
freely; I own the levity of her' behaviour, at this.. Alasty, I am  not a good man; I
time, gives me harder thoughts than I once be- am a guilty, wicked sinner     in; the
lieved it possible to have of her.           greatest villain that ever. breathed; every instant
Col. L. Indeed, my friend, you niistake her.   of my life is clouded with stains; it is one con-.  e    y  er tinued series of.crimes and defilements; you do
Darn. Nay, nay; had she any real concern for
Darn. Nay, nay; had she any real concern fo  not know what I am capable of;* you indeed take
me, the apprehensions of a man's addresses, whom me for a good man; but the of; you indeed taka
yet she never saw, must have alarmed her to some worthless creature.
degree of seriousness.
Old Lady L. Have you then stumbled q alas!
Col. L. Not at all; for let this man be whom     Old Lady L. Have you then stumbled   alas 
he will, I take her levity as a proof of her resolu-if it  e so, w ho shall walk upright what horrid
s-   crime have you been hurried into, that calls for
tion to have nothing to say to him.          this severe self-accrimination 
Darn. And pray, Sir, may I not as well sus-i  r
Dr. C. NIone, Madam, that perhaps humanity
pect, that this artful delay of her- good nature -to. None, Madam, that perhaps hunanity
me now, is meant as a provisional defence against may call yery enormous;- yet am Isure, that my
my reproaches, in case, when she has seen this thoughts never.stray a moment from celestial conmanyshe should think it convenient to prr  h templations? do they not sometimes, before I am
man, she should think it convenient to prefer himam
Col. L. No, no;she's giddy, but not capable of aware, turn to. things of this earth  amI not often
so. L. No, no; she's giddy, but not capaba.le of hasty, and surprised into wrath? nay, the instance
so studied a falsehood.
soDarn. B ~ut sta ill, what could she mean by going is recent; for last night, being snarled at and bit
Darn. But still, what could she mean by going by Minxy, your daughter-in-law's lap-dog, I am
away so abruptly?. You grewtoograveforheconscious I struck the little beast with a,degree
Col. L. You grew too grave for her.'
f. ou eo passion, for which I have never been able to
Darn. Why, who could bear such trifling    forgve myself since..
Col. L. You Should have laughed at her.: -     r.:  
Old Lady L. Oh! worthy, humble soul! this
Darn. I can't love at that easy rate..    Oh f                worthy  huble.soul! this
Col. L. No-if you could, the uneasinesswould a sligtoence, whichyour suferg ad
imortifications may well atone for.
lie on her side.
Dr. C. No, Madam, no; I want to suffer;. I
Darn. Do you then really think she has: any    r. C. No, Madam, no; I want to suffer; I
-nuthnrea   t     se h   I   ought to. be mortified; and.I: am obliged now to
thing in her heart for me?
ot. L. Ay, mhartry,'Sir-ahb! if -you could but tell you, that, for my soul's sake, I must quit your
Cot. L. Ay, marry, Sir —ah! if'you could but, good son3slfamily; i am pampered too much here,
get her to own that seriously now; Lord  howily; I am pampered too much here,
get could love her''        li~ve too much at my ease.
you could love her!
Darn. And s6 I could by Heaven!             Old LadyL  Good doctor!
Co. DarL.And Well, well, I'l undertake for her' if   Dr. C. Alas, Madam!, it is not you that should
ol. L.  Well;'well, I'  undertake for her; sif shed tears; it is I ought to weep;. you are.a, pure
my father don't. stand in the way, we are- well  woman
~~~ena~~~~~~ough.                  Old Lady L.  Ipure!: who, I? no, no;.sinful,
Darn. What says my lady? you don't think    O   L. I       who, I1? no, no; sinful,
sheDarn. Whainst  says  mylady? you don'tthinksinful-but do not talk of quitting our family;
what will become of us-for friendship-for
Col. L. I dare say she is not. She's of so soft, charityso sweet a disposition —
so sweet a disposition-            Dr. C. Enough; say no more, Madam; I subDarn. Pr'ythee, how came so fine a woman to
mit; while I can do good, it is mY duty.
marry your father, with such a vast inequality of
years?                                        Enter COLONEL LAMBERT and DARNLEY.
Col. L. Want of fortune, Frank; she was poor
and beautiful-he, rich and amorous-she made         L.  our adyship's mosthumble servant.
him happy, and he her-             Old Lady L. Grandson, how do you?
Dm happy, and he her —                       Darn. Good day to you, doctor.!
Dot. L. And a jointure-now she's.the only   Dr. C. Mr. Darnley, I am your most humble.
Col. L: And a jointure-now she's the only
one in the family that has power with our precise  servant; I hope you and te good colonel will stay
doctor; and, I dare engage, she'll use it with him  and oin in.the.private duties ofathe family.
Old Lad L., No, doctor,,.po:;At- is too,-early;
to persuade my father from  any thing that is   Old Lady L. No, doctor, no; it is too early;
against your interest. By the way, you must. not            risen uponthe daym; but, I doubt
know I have some shrewd suspicion that this   Dr C    warrant, they would go to a playwill come.
sanctified rogue is in love with her.  -       Dr. C. I warrant, they would go to a play now!
DW~4~Tfiarn. In love!  with -er..       Old Lady L. Would they-I am afraid they.'Col. L. You shall judge by the symptoms-but would.
hush! —here he comes with my grandmother- Darn. Why, 1 hope it is no sin, Madam; if I
step this way, and I'll'tell you.  [Exeunt.    not. mistaken,. have seen your ladyship at a.ar - this way, and I'll'tell You.   [ Exeunt.
P tr OTO   ANWLL  ldLDYLMBRplay..
Enter DOCTOR CANTWELL, old LADY LAMBERT,: Old Lady L. Me, Sir! see me at a play! you
and SEYWARD.                  may have seen the prince.of darkness, or some of
J)r. C. Charles, step up into my study;. bring his imps, in-.my likeness, perhaps-.. -
down a dozen more of those manuals of devotion,   Darn. Well but, Madam —
with the last hymns-I composed; and, when he;  Old Lady L. Mr. Darnley, do: you -think I
calls, give them to Mr. Mawworm; and, do.-you. would commit murder?




SCENE.]                    TH  EHYPOCRITE.                                        685
- Dr. C. No, Sir, no; these -are not the. plants   Dr. C. I shall inform him so.    [Exit.
usually to be met with in that rank soil; the seeds:   Char. A saucy puppy!
of wickedness indeed sprout:up every where too:  Col. L. Pray, sister, what has the fellow done
-fast; but- aplayhouse is the devil's hot-bed —    to you.. Col. L. And yet, doctor, I have known some   Char. Nothing.
of the leaders of your tribe, as- scrupulous as they:  Darn. I beg you would tell us, Madam.
are, who have:been willing to gather fruit there:  Char.. Nay, no great: matter-but. I was sitting
for the use. of the brethren-as in case- of a~ carelessly in my dressing-room-a-a fastening
benefit-                                     my garter, and this impudent cur comes bounce
Dr..C. The:charity covereth the sin: and it in upon memay be lawful to turn the wages- of abomination;Darn. The rogue must:be corrected.
to the comfort of the righteous.. Col. L. Yet,'egad, I cannot help laughing at
Col. HL. -:-Iai.ha, ha!..-,!.:       the accident.; what a ridiculous figure she must
- Dr. C. Reprobate! reprobate!             make-ha, ha!
Col, L. What-is-that you mutter, sirrah,  Clhar. Hah! you're as impudent as he, I
Old Lady L. Oh Heavens!                   think.:Darn. Let him go, colonel.                  Darn Now, dear Tom, speak to her before
Cot; L.:A canting hypocrite!             she goes.
Dr. C. Very well, Sir; your father shall know    Char. What does he say, brother?.my treatment.                        [Exit.   Col. L; Why, he wants to have me speak to
Old: Lady L. Let me run out of the house;, I you; and I would have him do it himself.
shall have it fall upon my head. if I stay among - Char. Ay, come, do, Darnley; I am in a good
such wicked wretches. O grandson! grandson! humour now.
[Exit.  -:Darn. Oh, Charlotte! my heart is bursting —
Darn. Was there ever such aninsolent rascal!   Char. Well, well; out with it then.
Col. L. The dog will one day provoke me to   Darn. Your father now, I see, is bent on partbeat his brains out.                     -   ing us-nay, what's worse perhaps, will give you
- Darn. But what the devil is he? whence comes to another-I cannot speak-imagine what I want
he.l-what is his original?-how has he so in- from you.gratiated himself with your father, as to get foot-   Char. Well-O lud! one looks so silly though
mg in the house.                            when one is so serious-O dear, —in short, I canCol. L. Oh, Sir, he is here in quality of chap- not get it out.
lain;: he was first introduced by the good old lady;  Col. L. I warrant you; try again.
that's just gone out. You know, she has been a   Char. 0 lud-well-if one must be teased,
long time a frequenter of our modern-conventicles, then-why, he must hope, I think.
where it seems she got,. acquainted with this   Darn. Is't possible!-thussanctified pastor. His disciples believe him  a   Col. L. Buz-not a syllable; she has done very
saint; and my poor father, who has been for some well. —  bar all heroics; if you press it too far, I'll
tine- tainted with their pernicious principles, has hold six to four she's off again in a moment.
been: led into, the same snare.                Darn. I'm silenced.
Darn. Hah! here's your sister again.        Char. Now am I on tiptoe to know what odd
Re-enter CHARLOTTE and DOCTOR CANTWELL. fellow my father has found out for me.
Darn. I'd give something to know him.
Char.: You'll find, Sir, I will not be used thus;   Char. He's in a terrible fuss at your being
nor shall your credit with my father protect your here, I find.
insolence to me.                               Col. L.'Sdeath! here he comes.
Col.: L.: What's the matter. Char. Now we are all in a fine pickle.:Char. Nothing; pray be quiet.-i- don't want Enter SIR JOHN LAMBERT hastily; and, looking
you-stand out of the way-how durst you bolt   sternly at DARNLEY, takes CHARLOTT,  Under
with  such authority into my chamber,.without   his arm, and carries her.     [ELeaent.
giving me notice?
Darn. Confusion!
Col. L. Hold-if my father wont resent this,?tis then time enough- for me to do it.        SCENE I.-An Antechamber at SIR JOHN
~Dr. C. —Compose yourself, Madam; I came by                LAMBERT'S.
your father's desire, who, being informed that you  Enter SEYWARD, ith a writing in his hand.
were entertaining Mr. Darnley, grew impatient,
and gave his-positive commands that you attend    Sey.'Tis so-I have long suspected where his
him instantly, or he himself, he says, will fetch zeal would end, in the making of his private foryou.                                        tune. But then, to found it on the ruin of his
Darn. Ay,: now the storm is rising.        patron's children!-I shudder at the villany 
Dr. C. So, for what I have done, Madam, I What desperation may a son be driven to, so barhad his authority, and shall leave him to answer barously disinherited!-Besides, his daughter, fair
you.                                         Charlotte,' too, is wronged; wronged in the tenChar.'Tis false. He gave you no authority to derest point: for so extravagant is this settlement,
insult me; or, if he had, did you suppose I w6uld that, it leaves her not a shilling, unless she marries
bear it from you'd What is it you presume upon?. with the doctor's consent; which is intended, by
your function.-: does that -exempt you from' the what I have heard, as an expedient to'oblige her
manners of a gentleman?                 " -  to marry the doctor himself. Now, twere but an
Dr. C. Shall I have an answer to your father, honest.part to let GCharlotte know the snare that's
lady   laid for her. This deed's not signed, and may oe
Char. I'll send him none by you.           yet prevented. It shall be so.
58




686                           TH E  HY P  OC: RITE.                             [ACT i}
Enter SIR JOEIN LAMBERT, LADY LAMBERT,        Lady L. It is not how he looks, but how he
and CHARLOTTE.                 loves, is the point.
Sir J. Good again.
Sir J. Oh! Seyward, your uncle wants you to   Lady L. And a wife is much more secure that
transcribe some hymns.                        has charms for her husband, than when the husSey. Sir, I'll wait on him.         [Exit.  band has only charms for her.
Char. A pretty, well-bred fellow, that.       Sir J. Admirable! go on, my dear.
Sir J. Ay, ay; but he has betterqualities than    Lady L. Do you think a woman of five and
his good breeding.                            twenty may not be much happier with an honest
Char. He's always clean too.               man of fifty, than the finest woman of fifty with
Sir J. I wonder, daughter, when you will take a young fellow of five and twenty?
notice of a man's real merit. Humph-well bred    Sir J. Mark that!
and clean, forsooth. Would not one think now    Char. Ay, but when two five and twenties
she was describing a coxcomb? When do you come together-dear papa, you must allow they
hear my wife talk at this rate? and yet she is as have a chance to be fifty times as pleasant and
young as your fantastical ladyship.           frolicsome.
Lady L. Charlotte is of a cheerful temper, my    Sir J. Frolicsome! Why, you sensual idiot,
dear; but I know you don't think she wants dis- what have frolics to do with solid happiness? I am
cretion.                                      ashamed of you.-Go, you talk worse than a girl
Sir J. I shall try that presently; and you, my at a boarding-school.-Frolicsome! as if marriage
dear, shall judge between us. In short, daughter, was only a license for two people to play the fool
your course of life is but one continued round of according to law. Methinks, Madam, you have
playing the fool to no purpose; and therefore I am  a better example of happiness before your face.resolved to make you think seriously, and marry. Here's one has ten times your understanding,
Char. That I shall do before I marry, Sir, you and she, you find, has made a different choice.
may depend upon it.                             Char. Lord, Sir, how you talk! you don't conSir J. Urn-That I am not so sure of; but sider people's tempers. I don't say my lady is
you may depend upon my having thought serious- not in the right; but then you know, papa, she's
ly, and that's as well; for the person I intend you a prude, and I am a coquette; she becomes her
is, of all the world, the only man who can make character very well, I don't deny it; and I hope
you truly happy.                              you see every thing 1 do, is as consistent with
Char. And, of all the world, Sir, that's the mine.-Your wise people may talk what they will,
only man I'll positively marry.               but'tis constitution governs us all; and be assured,
Lady L. You have rare courage, Charlotte; if you will no more be able to bring me to endure a
I had such a game to play, I should be frightened  man of forty-nine, than you can persuade my lady
out of my wits.                              to dance in church to the organ.
Char. Lord! Madam, he'll make nothing of it,   Sir J. 0 horrible! My poor sister has ruined
depend upon it.                      [Aside. her: leaving her fortune in her own hands, has
Sir J. Mind what I say to you. This won- turned her brain. In short, Charlotte, your sentiderful man, I say-first, in his public character, ments of life are shameful, and I am resolved upon
is religious, zealous, and charitable.        your instant reformation: therefore, as an earnest
Char. Very well, Sir.                      of your obedience, I shall first insist that you never
Sir J. In his private character, sober.    see young Darnley more: for, in one word, the
Char. I should hate a sot.                 good and pious doctor Cantwell's the man I have
Sir J. Chaste.                             decreed for your husband.
Char. A hem!             [Stifling a laugh.   C(har. Ho, ho, ho!
Sir J. What is it you sneer at, Madam? You    Sir J.'Tis very well; this laugh you think bewant one of your fine gentlemen rakes, I suppose, comes you, but I shall spoil your mirth-no more
that are snapping at every woman they meet with. -give me a Nrious answer.
Char. No, no, Sir; I am very well satisfied.-    Char. I ask your pardon, Sir; I should not
I-I should not care for such a sort of a man, no have smiled indeed, could I suppose it possible
more than I should fbr one that em:ery woman was that you were serious.
ready to snap at.                               Sir J. You'll find me so.
Sir J. No, you'll be secure from jealousy; he    Char. I'm sorry for it; but I have an objection
has experience, ripeness of years-he is almost to the doctor, Sir, that most fbathers think a subforty-nine.  Your sex's vanity will have no stantial one.
charms for him.                                 Sir J. Name it.
Char. But all this while, Sir, I don't find that   Char. Why, Sir, we know nothing of his fol.
he has charms for our sex's vanity. How does tune; he's not worth a groat.
he look? Is he tall, well made? Does he dress,   Sir J. That's more than you know, Madam;
sing, talk, laugh, and dance well?  Has he good 1 am able to give him a better estate than I ant
hair, good teeth, fine eyes? Does he keep a chaise, afraid you'll deserve.
coach, and vis-a-vis? Has he six prancing ponies?   Char. How, Sir 
Does he wear the prince's uniform, and subscribe    Sir.J. I have told you what's my will, and
to Brookes's?                                shall leave you to think on't.
Sir.J. Was there ever so profligate a creature?          Enter SEYWARD.
What will this age come to?
Lady L. Nay, Charlotte, here I must be against   Sey. Sir, if you are at leisure, the doctor deou. -Now you are blind indeed. A woman's sires to speak with you, upon business of import.
happiness has little to do with the pleasure her ance.
husband takes in his own person.                Sir J. Where is he?
Sir J. Right                                  Sey. In his own chamber, Sir,




SCENE I.]                    THE  HYPOCRITE.                                      687
Sir J. I will come to him immediately. —[Exit       Enter Old LADY LAMBERT.
S-~YWARD.]-Daughter, I am called away, and
therefore have only time to tell you as my last   Lady L. This is kind, Madam; I hope your
resolution, doctor Cantwell is your husband, or I ladyship's come to dine with us.
am no more your father. rExit.   Old Lady L. No; don't be afraid: only in my
Char. 0 Madam! I am at my wit's end; not way from Tottenham-court, I just called to see
for the little fortune I may lose in disobeying my whether any dreadful accident happened to the
father, but it startles me to find what a dangerous family since I was here last.
influence this fellow has over all his actions.  Lady L. Accident! did your ladyship say'
Lady L. Here's your brother.                 Old Lady L. I shall be sorry, daughter, but
Enter COLONEL LAMBERT.             not surprised, when I hear it; for there are goings
on under this roof, that will bring temporal puCol. L. Madam, your most obedient-Well, nishments along with them.
sister, is the secret out. Who is this pretty fellow    Lady L. Indeed, Madam, you astonish me i!
my father has picked up for you?              Old Lady L. We'll drop the subject; and I
Char. Even our agreeable doctor.          beg leave to address myself to you, Miss CharCol. L. You are not serious?             lotte; I see you have a bit of lace upon your neck;
Lady L. He is the very man, I can assure you, I desire to know what you wear it for.
Sir.                                           Char. Wear it for, Madam! it's the fashion.
Col. L. Confusion! what, would the cormorant   Old Lady L. In short, I have been at my linen
devour the whole family? Your ladyship knows draper's to-day, and have bought you some thick
he is secretly in love with you too.         muslin, which I desire you will make handkerLady L. Fy, fy, colonel.                   chiefs of-for I must tell you that slight covering
Col. L. I ask your pardon, Madam, if I speak  is indecent, and gives much offence.
too freely; but I am sure, by what I have seen,   Lady L. Indecent, did your ladyship say?
your ladyship must suspect something of it.    Old Lady L. Yes, daughter-in-law, doctor
Lady L,. I am sorry any body else has seen it; Cantwell complains to me that he can't sit at
but I must own, his behaviour to me of late, both table, the sight of her bare neck disturbs him
in private and before company, has been some- so;. and he's a good man, and knows what indething warmer than I thought became him.      cency is.
Col. L. How are these opposites to be recon-   Char. Yes, indeed, I believe he does, better
ciled? Can the rascal have the assurance to think than any one in this house. But you may tell
both points are to be carried?              the doctor from me, Madam, that he is an impuC'har. Truly, one would not suspect the gen- dent coxcomb, a puppy, and deserves to have his
tleman to be so termagant.                   bones broke.
Col. L. Especially while he pretends to be so    Old Lady L. Fy, Charlotte, fy! He speaks
shocked at all indecent amours. In the country but for your good, and this is the grateful return
he used to make the maids lock up the turkey- you make.
cocks every Saturday night, for fear they should    Char. Grateful return, Madam!-how can you
gallant the hens on a Sunday.                be so partial to that hypocrite?-The doctor is one
Lady L. Oh! ridiculous!                   of those who start at a feather. —Poor good ran!
Col. L. Upon my life, Madam, my sister told yet he has his vices of the graver sortme so.                                         Old Lady L. Come, come; I wish you would
Char. I tell you so, impudent —           follow his precept, whose practice is conformable
Lady L. Fy, Charlotte; he only jests with you. to what he teaches. -Virtuous man!-Above all
Char. How can you be such a monster, to stay sensual regards, he considers the world merely as
playing the fool here, when you have more reason a collection of dirt and pebble-stones.-How has
to be frightened out of your wits? You don't he weaned me from temporal connections! My
know perhaps, that my father declares he'll settle heart is now set upon nothing sublunary: and,
a fortune upon this fellow too.             thank Heaven, I am so insensible to every thing
Col. L. What do you mean?                in this vain world, that I could see you, my son,
Lady L.'Tis too true;'tis not three minutes my daughters, my brothers, my grandchildren, all
since he said so.                            expire before me; and mind it no more than the
Col. L. Nay then,'tis time indeed his eyes going out of so many snuffs of candle.
were opened; and give me leave to say, Madam,   Char. Upon my word, Madam, it is a very'tis only in your power.                     humane disposition you have been able to arrive
Lady L. What is't you propose?           at, and your family is much obliged to the doctor
Col. L. Why, if this fellow, which I'm sure of, for his instructions.
is really in love with you, give him a fair oppor-   Old Lady L. Well, child, I have nothing more
tunity to declare it, and leave me to make my ad- to say to you at present; Heaven mend you,
vantage.                                     that's all.
Lady L. I should be loath to do awrong thing-   Lady L. But pray, Madam, stay and dine
Char. Dear Madam, it is the only way in the with us.
world to expose him to my father.    -         Old Lady L. No, daughter, I have said it, and
Lady L. I'll think of it.                  you know I never tell a lie; but here's my son.
Col. L. Pray do, Madam; but in the mean if you'll give me leave, I'll stay and speak to
time I must leave you-poor Darnley stays for him.
me at the Smyrna, and will sit upon thorns till I   Lady L. Your ladyship's time is your own
ibring him an account of his new rival.        Char. Ay, here's that abominable doctor.Char. Well, well, get you gone then; here is This fellow puts me beyond my patience.
my grandmother.   [Exit COLONEL LAMBERT.                        [Exit LADY L. and CCHAN.




688                           THE-: HYPOCRITE.                                  LACT I
Enter SIR JOHN LAMBERT and DOCTOR        too suddenly surprise her-Maios must be gently
CANTWELL.                   dealt with-and might I humbly adviseJSir J. Any thing. you. will: you shall. govern
Sir J. Oh,:Madam, Madam! I'm glad you're meand her.
here to join. me in solicitations to the doctor.-  mean   er.here to join me. in solicitations to the d.tor.-. JDr. C. Then, Sir, abate of your authority, and
Here is my mother, friend, my mother; a pious lt the matter rest awhile.
woman; you will hear her, more worthy to advise.  SirJ.  Suppose we were to get my wife to
you thanIl as....           speak to her; women will often hear, from their
Dr. C. Alas! the dear good lady, I will kiss own sex, what sometimes, even from the man they
her hand!-but what advice can she give me? like will startle them.
The riches of this world, Sir, have no charms for   Dr. C. Then, with your permission Sir I will
me; I am not dazzled with their false glare; and take an opportunity of talking to my lady.
was I, I repeat it, to accept of the trust you want   Sir J. She's now in her dressing-room; I'll go
to repose in me, Heaven knows, it would only be and prepare her for it..[Exit.
lest the means should fall into wicked hands, who   Dr C. You are too good to me, Sr —too
would not lay it out as I would do, for the glory bountiful.
of Heaven, and the good of my neighbour.nter SEYWARD.
Old Lady L. What's the matter, son                      Enter EYWAD.
Dr. C. Nothing, Madam; nothing.-But you    Sey. Sir, Mr. Mawworm is without, and would
were witness how the worthy colonel treated me be glad to be permitted to.speak with you.
this morning-Not that I speak it on my own ac-   Old Lady L. Oh pray, doctor, admit him; I
count-for to be reviled is my portion.       have not seen Mr. Mawworm this great while;
Sir J. 0 the villain! the villain!       he's a pious man, though in an humble estate;
Dr. C. Indeed, 1 did not think he had so hard desire the worthy creature to walk in.
a nature.
Old Lady L. Ah! your charitable heart knows            Enter MAWWORM.
not the rancour that is in his.-His wicked sister
too, has been here this moment, abusing this good -How do you do, Mr. Mawworm a
man.                -                           Iao. Thank your ladyship's -axing-I'm but
Dr. C. O Sir,'tis plain;'tis plain; your whole deadly poorish indeed; the world and I can't agree
family are in a combination against me-your son -I got the books, doctor-and Mrs. Grunt bid
and daughter hate me; they think I stand be- me give her service to you, and thanks you for the
tween them and your favour: and indeed it is not eighteen-pence.
fit I should do so; for, fallen as they are, they are    Dr. C. Hush, friend tMawworm! not a word
still your children, and I an alien, an intruder, more; you know  I hate to have ry little charities
who ought in conscience to retire and heal those blazed about: a poor widow, Madam, to whom I
unhappy breaches.                            sent my mite.
Old Lady L. See; if the good man does not   Old Lady L. Give her this.
wipe his eyes!  [Offers a purse to MAW.
Dr. C. Oh eeavenss! the thought of their in-   Dr. C. I'll take care it shall be given to her.
Dr. C. Oh Heavens! the thought of their in-t.
gratitude wounds me to the quick-but I'll remove    Old Lady L. But what is the ma Takes it
Old Lady L.  But what is the matter with you,
this eye-sore-here, Charles!                 MVr. Mawworm 
Enter SEYWARD.                  MAlaw. I don't know what's the matter with
me-I'm a breaking my heart-I think it's a sin
Sir J. For goodness' sake-                to keep a shop.
Dr. C. Bring me that writing, I gave you to    Old Lady L. Why if you think it a sin, inlay up this morning.                         deed-pray what's your business?
Sir J. Make haste, good Charles; it shall be   Maw. We deals in grocery, tea, small-beer,
Signed this moment.        r[Exit SEYWARD. charcoal, butter, brickdust, and the like.
Dr. C. Not for the world, Sir John-every    Old Lady L. Well, you must consult with
minute tends to corroborate my last intentions-I your friendly director here.
must not, will not take'it, with the curses of your   Maw. I wants to go a preaching.
children.                                      Old Lady L. Do you?
Sir J.. But'consider, doctor-shall my wicked   Maw. I'm almost sure I have had a call.
son then be heir to my lands, before repentance    Old Lady L. Ay!
has entitled him to favour-No, let-him depend   Maw. I have made several sermons already; 1
upon vou, whom- he has wronged; perhaps, in does them  extrumpery, because, I can't write;
time he may reflect on his father's justice, and be and now the devils in our alley says, as how my
reconciled to your rewarded virtues.-If Heaven head's turned.
should at last reclaim him, in you I know he still   Old Lady L. Ay, devils indeed-but don't you
would find a fond, forgiving father.         mind them.
Dr. C. The imagination of so blessed an hour,  AMaw. No, I don't-I rebukes them, and preaches
softens me to a tenderness I cannot support!  to them, whether they will or not. We lets our
Old Lady L. Oh! the dear good man.        house in lodgings to single men; and sometimes I
SirJ.   With regard to my daughter, doctor, gets them together, with one or two of the neighyou know she is not wronged by it; because, if bours, and makes them all cry.
dhe proves not obstinate, she may still be happy.    Old Lady L. Did you ever preach in public?
Old Lady L. Yes, but the perverse wretch  MAaw. I got upon Kennington-common, the last
Aights the blessing you propose for her.   -  review day;'but the boys threw brickbats at me
Dr. C. We must allow, Madam, female mo- and pinned crackers to my tail; and I have 1bee
lesty a time, which often takes the likeness of afraid to mount ever since.
distress: the commands of your good son might   Old Lady L. Do you hear this, doctor? throw




rCENEI.]                    THE HYPOCRITE.                                       689
brickbats at him, and pin crackers to his tail! can time this afternoon; I want to have a little private
these things be stood by?                   discourse with you; and, pray, my service to youi
Maw. I told them so-says I, I does nothing  spouse.
dandecently; I stands here contagious to his   Maw. I will, Madam; you are a malefactor to
miajesty's guards, and I charge you upon your all goodness; I'll wait upon your ladyship; I will
apparels not to mislist me.                  indeed: [Going, returns.]  Oh, doctor, that's
Old Lady L. And had it no effect?         true; Susy desired me to give her kind love and
M/Iaw. No more than if I spoke to so many respects to you.                       [Exit.
postesses: but if he advises me to go a preaching,   Dr. C. Madam, if you please, I will lead you
and quit my shop, I'll make an excressance fur- into the parlour.
ther into the country.                         Old Lady L. No, doctor, my coach waits at
Old Lady L. An excursion, you would say.  the door.
Maw. I am but a sheep, but my bleatings shall            Enter SEYWARD.
be heard afar off; and that sheep shall become a
shepherd: nay, if it be only as it were a shep-apers by
herd's dog, to bark the stray lambs into the fold.  again, but in some place where you'll easily find
Old Lady L. He wants method, doctor.      them; for I believe we shall have occasion for
them some time this afternoon.
Dr. C. Yes, Madam; but there is the matter, them some take care, Sir. [Eit D. CAon.  and
Sey. I'll take care, Sir. [Exit DR. CANT. and
and I despise not the ignorant.  fehi        old LADY LAMBERT.]-Occasion for them this
Maw. IHIe's a saint-till I went after him, I 
was little better than the devil; my conscience afternoon -Then there's no time to be lost; the
was tanned with sin, like a piece of neat's leather, coast is clear, and this is her chamber.-What's
and had no more feeling than the sole of my shoe; her throws  me       into a disorder. There's nobody
always a roving after fantastical delights: I used  her throws me into a dsorer.  There's nobody
to go, every Sunday evening, to the Three Hats        I'll knock again.
at lslington! it's a public-house! mayhap, your          Enter BETTY.. ladyship may know it: I was a great lover of Is your lady busy?
skittles too, but now I can't bear them.       Bet. I believe she's only reading, Sir.
Old Lady L. What a blessed reformation!     Sey. Will you do me the favour to let her
Maw. I believe, doctor, you never know'd as know, if she's at leisure, I beg to speak with her
how I was instigated one of the stewards of the upon some earnest business.
reforming society. I convicted a man of five
oaths, as last Thursday was a se'nnight, at the
Pewter-platter, in the Borough; and another of    Char. Who's that?
three, while he was playing trap-ball in St.   Bet. She's here.-Mr. Seyward, Madam, deGeorge's-fields: I bought this waistcoat out of sires to speak with you.
my share of the money.                         Char. Oh, your servant, Mr. Sevward.-Here,
Old Lady L. But how do you mind your busi- take this odious Homer, and lay him up again;
ness?                                       he tires me.-[Exit BETTY.]-HOW   could the
MGaw. We have lost almost all our customers; blind wretch make such an horrid fuss about a
because I keeps extorting them whenever they fine woman, for so many volumes together, and
come into the shop.                          give us no account of her amours? you have read
Old Lady L. And how do you live?         him, I suppose, in the Greek, Mr. Seyward?
Maw. Better than ever we did: while we were   Sey. Not lately, Madam.
worldly-minded, my wife and I (for I am married    Char. But do you so violently admire him now 1
to as likely a woman as you shall see in a thou-   Sey. The critics say he has his beauties, Masand) could hardly make things do at all; but dam; but Ovid has been always my favourite.
since this good man has brought us into the road    Char. Ovid-Oh, he is ravishing!
of the righteous, we have always plenty of every    Sey. So art thou, to madness!  [Aside.
thing; and my wife goes as well dressed as a gen-   Char. Lord! how could one do, to learn Greek!
tlewoman-we have had a child too.            -Were you a great while about it?
Old Lady L. Merciful!                       Sey. It has been half the business of my life,
Maw. And between you and me, doctor, I be- Madam.
lieve Susy's breeding again.                   Char. That's cruel, now; then you think one
Dr. C. Thus it is, Madam; I am constantly could not be mistress of it in a month or two?
told, though I can hardly believe it, a blessing fol-   Sey. Not easily, Madam.
lows wherever I come.                          Char. They tell me, it has the softest tone for
Maw. And yet, if you would hear how the love of any language in the world-I fancy I
neighbours reviles my wife; saying as how she could soon learn it. I know two words of it alsets no store by me, because we have words now  ready.
and then; but as I says, if such was the case,   Sey. Pray, Madam, what are they'
would ever she have cut me down that there time    Char. Stay-let me see-Oh-ay-Zoe  kai
as I was melancholy, and she found me hanging  psuche.
behind the door; I don't believe there's a wife in    Sey. I hope you know the English of them,
the parish would have done so by her husband.   Madam.
Dr. C. I believe'tis near dinner-time; and Sir   Char. Oh lud! I hope there is no harm in itJohn will require my attendance.             I'm sure I heard the doctor say it to my ladyMaw. Oh! 1 am troublesome-nay, I only come pray, what is it?
to you, doctor, with a message from Mrs. Grunt.   Sey. You must first imagine, Madam, a tender
I wish your ladyship heartily and heartily fare- lover gazing on his mistress; and then indeed they
well; doctor, a good day to you.             have a softness in them; as thus-Zoe kai psuc he I
Old Lady L. Mr. Mawworm, call on me somp -my life! my soul!
VoL. I....4 S    58*




fi90                         THE  HYPOCRITE.                                   [ACT II.
Char. Oh the impudent young rogue! how his having drawn me into a connivance at some ac.
eyes spoke too! what the deuce can he want with tions, which I can't look back on without horror.
me!                                  [Aside.   Char. Indeed, you can't tell how I pity you;
Sey. I have startled her!-she muses! [Aside. and depend upon it, fa it be possible to serve you,
Char. It always run in my head that this fel- by getting you out of the hands of this monster,- I
low had something in him above his- condition; will.
I'll know immediately. [Aside.] Well, but your   Sey. Once more, Madam, let me assure you,
business with me, Mr. Seyward. you have some- that your generous inclination would be a consothing of love. in your head, I'll lay my life on't.   lation to me in the worst misfortunes; and, even
Sey. I never durst own it, Madam.         in the last moment of painful death, would give
Char. Why; what's the matter?             my heart a joy.
Sey. My story is too melancholy to entertain a   Char. Lord! the poor unfortunate boy loves
mind so much at ease as yours.               me too-what shall I do with him? [Aside.]Char. Oh, I love melancholy stories of all Pray, Mr. Seyward, what paper's that you have
things:-pray how long have you lived with your in your hand?-Is it relative touncle, Mr. Seyward.                           Sey. Another instance of the conscience and
Sey. With doctor Cantwell, I suppose you gratitude which animate our worthy doctor.
mean, Madam?                                   Char. Y~u frighten me! pray, what is the purChar. Ay.                                 port of it  Is it neither signed nor sealed?Sey. He's no uncle of mine, Madam.          Sey. No, Madam; therefore to -prevent it, by
Char. You surprise me! not your uncle?   this timely notice, was my- business here with
Sey. No, Madam; but that's not the only you; your father gave it to the doctor first, to show
character the doctor assumes, to which he has no his counsel; who having approved it, I understand
right.                                      this evening it will be executed.
Char. Lord! I am concerned for you.         Char. But what is it?
Sey. So you would, Madam, if you knew all.    Sey. It grants to doctor Cantwell, in present,
Char. I am already; but if there are any fur- four hundred pounds per annum, of which this
ther particulars of your story, pray let me hear very house is part; and, at your father's death,
them; and should any services be in my power, I invests him in the whole remainder of his freeam sure you may command them.               hold estate.-For you, indeed, there is a charge
Sey. You- treat me with so kind, so gentle a of four thousand pounds upon it, provided you
hand, that I will unbosom myself to you.-My  marry with the doctor's consent; if not,'tis added
father, Madam, was the younger branch of a gen- to my lady's jointure-But your brother, Madam,
teel family in the north; his name Trueman-but is, without conditions, utterly disinherited.
dying while I was yet in my infancy, I was left   Char. I am confounded!-What will become
wholly dependant on my mother; a woman really of us! my father now I find was serious —Oh, this
pious and well-meaning, but-In short, Madam, insinuating hypocrite!-Let me see-ay-I will
doctor Cantwell fatally got acquainted with her, go this minute. Sir, dare you trust this in my
and as he is now your father's bosom counsellor, hands for an hour only?
soon became hers. She died, Madam, when I   Sey. Any thing to serve you.-  [Bell rings.
was but eight years old; and then I was, indeed,   Char. Hark! they ring to dinner; pray, Sir,
left an orphan.                             step in: say I am obliged to dine abroad; and'Char. Melancholy!                        whisper one of the footmen to get a chair immeSey. She left doctor Cantwell her sole heir and diately; then do you take a proper occasion to slip
executor; but I must do her the justice to say, I out after me to Mr. Double's chambers in the
believe it was in the confirmation that he would Temple; there shall I have time to talk further
take care of, and do justice to me: and, indeed, he with you.                   [Exeunt.
has so far taken care of me, that he sent me to a
seminary abroad; and for these three years last
past has kept me with him.                    SCENE I.-A dressing-room, with table and
Char. A seminary! Oh, heavens! but why                       chairs.
have you not strove to do yourself justice?  Enter CHARLOTTE, with BETTY, taking off her
Sey. Thrown so young into his power, as I                   cloak, 4.c.
was-unknown and friendless, but through his Char. Has any one been to speak with me,
Char. Has any one been to speak with me,
means, to whom could I apply for succour? nay, Betty?
Madam, I will confess, that on my return to Eng-   Bet. Only Mr. Darnley, Madam; he said he
land, I was first tainted with his enthusiastic no- would call again, and bid his servant stay below
tions myself; and, for some time, as much im- to give him notice when you came home.
posed upon by him, as others; till, by degrees, as   Char. You don't know what he wanted 
he found it necessary to make use of, or totally   Bet. No, Madam; he seemed very uneasy at
discard me (which last he did not think prudent your being abroad.
your being abroad.
to do,) he was obliged to unveil himself to me in    Char. Well go and lay up those thingshis proper colours-And I believe I can inform  [Exit BETTY.] Ten to one but his wise headihas
you of some parts of his private character, that found out something to be jealous of; if he lets me
may be the means of detecting one of the wick- see it, I sall be s   to mae him infinitely easy
edest impostors that ever practised upon credulity. -here he comes.
Char. But how has the wretch dared to treat
you?
Sey. In his ill and insolent humours, Madam,   Darn. Your humble servant, Madam.
lie has sometimes the presumption to tell me, that   Char. Your servant, Sir.
I am the object of his charity; and I own, Ma-   Darn. You have been abroad, I hear.
dlam, that I am humbled in my opinion, by his   Char. Yes, and now I am come home, you see,




8CEN: 1.j                     T HE:HYP O:C RIT E.                                691
Darn. You seem to turn upon my words, Ma-   Char. Oh, lud! I am growing silly; if I hear
dam! Is there any thing particular in them!  on, I shall tell him every thing;'tis but another
Char. As much as there is in my being abroad, struggle and I shall conquer it.-So, you are- not
I believe.                                   gone, I see.
Darn. Might I not say you had been abroad,   Darn. Do you then wish me gone, Madam'm? 
without giving offence  -                      Char. Your manly reason will direct you.
Char. And might I not as well- say I was come   Darn. This is too much-my heart can bear
home, without your being so grave upon't,2 -  no more —What, am I rooted here?.
Darn. Do you know  any thing that should                Enter SEWARD
Enter SEYWARD.
make me grave?!
Char. I know, if you are so, I am the worst   Char. At:last I am relieved-Well, Mr. Seyperson in the world you can possibly show it to.  ward, is it done?
Darn. Nay, I don't suppose you do any thing    Sey. I did not stir from the desk till it was enyou wont justify.                            tirely finished.
Char. Oh, then I find I have done something    Char. Where's the original?
you think I can't justify.                     Sey. This is it, Madam.
Darn. I don't say that neither; perhaps I am    Char. Very well; that, you know, you must
wrong in what I have said; but I have been so keep; but come, we must lose no time; we will
often used to ask pardon for your being in the examine: this in the next room —now -I feel for
wrong, that I am resolved henceforth never to rely him.                            [Exit.
on the insolent evidence of my own senses.     Darn. This is not to be borne-Pray, Mr.
Char. You don't know now perhaps that -I Charles, what business have you with that lady 2
think this pretty smart speech of yours is very   Sey. Sir!
dull; but, since that's a fault you can't help, I   Darn. I must know, young man.
will not take it ill; come now, be as sincere on   Sey. Not quite so young, but I can keep a
your side, and tell me seriously-Is not what real secret, and a lady's too-you'll excuse me, Sir!
business I had abroad the very thing you want to                                  [Exit.
be made easy in?                              Darn.'Sdeath! to be laughed at by every body
Darn. If I thought you would make me easy, -I shall run distracted-this young fellow should
I would own it.                             repent his pertness, did not this house protect
Char. Now we come to the point.-To-mor- him-this is Charlotte's contrivance to distract
row morning then I give you my word, to let you me-but what?-Oh! I have love enough to bear
know it all; till then, there is a necessity for its this, and ten times as much.
being a secret; and I insist upon your believing it.  Enter COLONEL LAMBERT.
Darn. But pray, Madam, what am I to do with   Col. L. What, inraptures!
private imagination in the mean time? that is not   Darn. Pr'ythee-I am unfit to talk with you.
in my power to confine; and sure you wont be   Co. L. What, is Charlotte in her airs again?
offended, if, to avoid the tortures that may give  DCol. 1 know not what she i her airs again
me, I beg you'll trust me with the secret now.  Col. L. Do you know where she is?
Char. Don't press me; for, positively, I will not.   Darn.  etired this moment to her chamber
Darn. Retired this moment to her chamber
Darn. Will not-cannot had been a kinder with the young fellow there —the doctor's nephew.
term-Is my disquiet of so little moment to you. L. Why, you are not jealous of the doctor
Char. Of none, while your disquiet dares not I hope 
trust the assurances I have given you. If you ex-he'll be less reserved to you,
pect I should confide in you for life, don't let me and tell you wherein I have mistaken her.
see you dare not take my word for a day; and, if   Co. L. Poor Frank every plot  lay upon my
you are wise, you'll think so fair a trial a favour. sister's inclination for you, you are sure to ruin
sister's inclination for you, you are sure to ruin
— Come, come, there's nothing shows so low a by your own conduct.
mind, as those grave and insolent jealousies.
Darn. However, Madam, mine you wont find much rel passion, for ha mtoodish lov ter  oo
so low as you imagine; and since I see your. L. Come, 
tyranny arises from your mean opinion of'me,'tis more; I'll undertake for you: if you'll fetch acool
time to be myself, and disavow your power; you turn in the Park, upon Constitution hill, in less
use it now beyond my bearing; not only impose than half an hour I'll come to you, and make you
n' me to disbelieve my senses, but do it with such perfectly easy.
an imperious air, as if my manly reason were   Darn. Dear Tom, you are a friend indeed -I
tour slave; and this despicable frame that follows have a thousand things-but you shall find me
you, durst show no signs of life but what you there.                              [Exit.
vouchsafe to give it.                           E'
Char. You are in the right: go on-suspect
me still-believe the worst you can-'tis all true-    Col. L. How now, sister; what have you done
I don't justify myself-Why do you trouble me to Darnley? the poor fellow looks as if he had
with your complaints? if you are master of that killed your parrot.
manly reason you have boasted, give a manly    Char. Pshaw! you know him well enough!
proof of it; at once resume your liberty; despise I've only been setting him a love lesson; it a little
me; go off in triumph now, like a king in a puzzles him to get through it at first, but he'll
tragedy.                                     know it all by to-morrow-you will be sure to be
Darn. Is this the end of all then? and are those in the way, Mr. Seyward.
tender protestations you have made me (for such    Sty. Madam, you may depend upon me. I
I thought them) when, with a kind reluctance, have my full instructions.          [Fxit,
you gave me something more than hope-what   Col. L. 0, ho! here's the business then  and
all-Oh, Charlotte! all come to this?        it seems Darnley was not'to be trusted with it;




692                            THE HYPOCRITE.                                  ACTr III.
ha, ha!-and, pr'ythee, what is the mighty secret Here it disputes the prize with nature; that al:
that is transacting between Seyward and you?   this soft and gaudy lustre should be wrought from
Char. That's what he would have known, in- the labours of a poor worm!
deed; but you must know, I don't think it proper   Lady L. But our business, Sir, is upon anto let you tell him neither, for all your sly manner other subject; Sir John informs me, that he thinks
of asking.                                   himself under no obligations to Mr. Darnley, and
Col. L. Pray take your own time, dear Madam;  therefore resolves to give his daughter to you.
I am not in haste to know, I assure you.       Dr. C. Such a thing has been mentioned, MaChar. Well, but hold; on second thoughts, you dam; but to deal sincerely with you, that is not
shall know part of this affair between Seyward the happiness I sigh after; there is a soft and seriand me; nay, I give you leave to tell Darnley too, ous excellence for me, very different from what
on some conditions;'tis true, I did design to have your step-daughter possesses.
surprised you-but now my mind's altered, that's   Lady L. Well, Sir, pray be sincere, and open
enough.                                      your heart to me.
Col. L. Ay, for any mortal's satisfaction-but   Dr. C. Open my heart! can you then, sweet
here comes my lady.                          lady, be yet a stranger to it? has no action of my
Enter LADY LAMBERT.              life been able to inform you of my real thoughts?
Lady L. Well, Sir, I take all this, as I suppose
Lady L. Away, away, colonel and Charlotte; you intend it, for my good and spiritual welfare.
both of you away this instant.                 Dr. C. Indeed, I mean your cordial service.
Char. What's the matter, Madam.             Lady L. I dare say you do: you are above the
Lady L. I am going to put the doctor to his low, momentary views of this world.
trial, that's all. I have considered the proposal   Dr., C. Why, I should be so; and yet, alas! I
you have made me to-day, colonel, and am con- find this mortal clothing of my.soul is made like
vinced it ought not to be delayed an instant; so other men's, of sensual flesh and blood, and has
just now I told the doctor, in a half-whisper, that its frailties.
I should be glad to have a word in private with   Lady L. We all have those, but yours are well
him here; and he said he would wait upon me corrected by your divine and virtuous contemplapresently: but must I play a traitorous part now, tions.
and instead of persuading you to the doctor, per-   Dr. C. Alas! Madam, my heart is not of stone: 
suade the doctor against you?  I may resist, call all my prayers, my fastings, tears,
Char. Dear Madam, why not? one moment's and penance, to my aid; but yet, I am not an
truce with the prude, I beg of you; don't startle angel; I am still but a man; and virtue may strive,
at his first declaration, but let him go on, till he but nature will be uppermost. I love you then,
shows the very bottom of his ugly heart.     Madam.
Lady L. I warrant you, I'll give a good account   Lady L. Hold, Sir! suppose I now should let
of him-but as I live, here he comes!        my husband, your benefactor, know the favour
Char. Come then, brother, you and I will be you design him?
commode, and steal off.                        Dr. C. You cannot be so cruel!
[Exit CHAR. and COL. L. who listens.   Lady L. Nor will, on this condition; that in~Enter DOCTOR CANTWELL.            stantly you renounce all claim and title to Charlotte, and use your utmost interest with Sir John,
Dr. C. Here I am, Madam, at your ladyship's to give her, with her full fortune, to Mr. Darnley.
command; how happy am I that you think me              Enter COLONEL LA
worthy-                                                Enter COLONEL LAMBERT.
worthy —
Lady L. Please to sit, Sir.                  Col. L. Villain! monster! perfidious and unDr. C. Well but, dear lady, ha! you can't con- grateful traitor! your hypocrisy, your false zeal, is
ceive the joyousness I feel at this so much desired  discovered; and I am sent here, by the hand of
interview. Ah, ah! I have a thousand friendly insulted Heaven, to lay vou open to my father,
things to say to you: and how stands your pre- and expose you to the world.
cious health? is your naughty cold abated yet' I   Dr. C. Ha!
have scarce closed my eyes these two nights with    Lady L. 0, unthinking colonel!
my concern for you.                            Col. L. Well, Sir, what have you to say for
Lady L. Your charity is too far concerned for yourself?
me.                                            Dr. C. 1 have nothing to say to you, colonel,
Dr. C. Ah! don't say so; don't say so; you nor for you-but you shall have my prayers.
merit more than mortal man can do for you.     Col. L. Why, you profligate hypocrite! do you
Lady L. Indeed, you overrate me.           think to carry off your villany with that sanctified
Dr. C. I speak it from my heart: indeed, in- air?
deed, indeed I do.                             Dr. C. I know not what you mean Sir; I have
Lady L. 0 dear! you hurt my hand, Sir.    been in discourse here with my good iady, by perDr. C. Impute it to my zeal, and want of words mission of your worthy father.
for expression: precious soul! I would not hurt   Col. L. Dog! did my father desire you to talk
you for the world: no, it would be the whole busi: of love to my lady?
ness of my life-                               Dr. C. Call me not dog, colonel: I hope we
Lady L. But to the affair I would speak to you are both brother Christians.-Yes, I will own I
about,                                       did beg leave to talk to her of love; for, alas! I
Dr. C. Ah! thou heavenly woman!           am hbut a man; yet if my passion for your dear
Lady L. Your hand need not be there, Sir.   sister, which I cannot control be sinfulDr. C. I was admiring the softness of this silk.   Lady L. Your noise, I perceive,-is bringing up
They are indeed come to prodigious perfection in Sir John; manage with him as you will at preall manufactures: how wonderful is human art! sent: I will withdraw, for I have an after-game to




sOEN I.]                       THE HYPOCRITE.                                       693
play, which may yet put this wretch effectually   Col. L. Wrong him! the hardened impudence
into our power.                       [Exit. of this painted charityEnter SIR JOHN LAMBERT.               Sir J. Peace, graceless infidel!
Col. L. No, Sir; though I would hazard life to
Sir J. What uproar is this.               gain you from the clutches of that wretch; could
Col. L. Nothing, Sir, nothing; only a little broil (lie to reconcile my duty to your favour; yet, on
of the good doctor's here-You are well rewarded the terms his villany offers, it is merit to refuse it
for your kindnesses; and he would fain pay it -but, Sir, I'll trouble you no more; to-day is his,
back with triple interest to your wife: in short, I to-morrow may be mine.          [Exit.
took him here in the very fact of making a crimi-   Sir J. Come, my friend, we'll go this instant
nal declaration of love to my lady.          and sign the settlement; fbr that wretch ought to
Dr. C. Why, why Sir John, would you not be punished, who I now see is incorrigible, and
let me leave your house? I knew some dreadful given over to perdition.
method would be taken to drive me hence-O, be   Dr. C. And do you think I take your estate
not angry, good colonel: but indeed, and indeed, with such view i-No, Sir-I receive it that I
you use me cruelly.                           may have an opportunity to rouse his mind to
Sir.. Horrible, wicked creature!-Doctor, let. virtue, by showing him an instance of the forgiveme hear it from you.                          ness of injuries; the return of good for evil!Dr. C. Alas, Sir, I am in the dark as much as   Sir J. O, my dear friend! my stay and my
you; but it should seem, for what purpose he best guide! 1 am impatient till the affair is concluded.
knows, your son hid himself hereabouts; and    Dr. C. The will of Heaven be done in all
while I was talking to my lady, rushed in upon things.
us-you know the subject, Sir, on which I was to   Sir J. Poor, dear, man!       [Exeunt.
entertain her; and I might speak of my love for
your daughter with more warmth than, perhaps,                  ACT IV.
I ought; which the colonel overhearing, he might
possibly imagine I was addressing my lady her-    SCENE I-A Parlour atSIR JOHN
self; for I will not suspect, no Heaven forbid, I
will not suspect that he would intentionally forge  Enter CHARLOTTE and SEYWARD.
a falsehood to dishonour me.                    Char. You were a witness, then 3
Sir J. Now, vile detracter of all virtue! is your   Sey. I saw it signed, sealed, and delivered,
outrageous malice confounded. what he tells you Madam.
is true; he has been talking to my lady by my    Char. And all passed without the least susconsent, and what he said was by my orders-  picion2 
Good man! be not concerned; for I see through    Sey. Sir John signed it with such earnestness,
their vile design-Here, thou curse of my life, if and the doctor received it with such seeming rethou art not lost to conscience and all sense of luctance, that neither had the curiosity to examine
honour, repair the injury you have attempted, by a line of it.
confessing your rancour, and throwing yourself   Char. Well, Mr. Seyward, whether it succeeds
at his feet.                                 to our ends or not, we have still the same obligaDr. C. Oh, Sir John! for my sake-i will tions to you.-You saw  with  what friendly
throw myself at the colonel's feet; nay, if that will warmth my brother-heard your story; and I don't
please him, he shall tread on my neck.       in the least doubt his being able to do something
Sir J. What, mute, defenceless, hardened in for you.
thy malice.                                     Sey. What I have done, my duty bound me to;
Col. L. I scorn the imputation, Sir; and with but pray, Madam, give me leave, without offence,
the same repeated honesty avow (however cun- to ask you one innocent question.
ningly he may have devised this gloss,) that you    Char. Freely.
are deceived-what I tell you, Sir, is true-these    Sey. Have you never suspected, that in all this
eyes, these ears, were witnesses of his audacious affair, I have had some secret, stronger motive,
love, without the mention of my sister's name! than barely duty?
directly, plainly, grossly tending to abuse the ho-   Char. Yes.-But have you been in no apprenour of your bed.                            hensions I should discover that motive?
Sir J. Villain! this instant leave my sight, my    Sey. Pray, pardon me; I see already I have
house, my family, for ever.                  gone too far.
Dr. C. Hold, good Sir John; I am now re-   Char. Not at all; it loses you no merit with
covered from my surprise; let me then be an hum- me; nor is it my nature to use any one ill that
ble mediator —on my account this must not be-I loves me, unless I loved that one again: then, ingrant it possible your son loves me not; but you deed, there might be danger. Come, don't look
must grant it too as possible, he might mistake grave;my inclinations to another shall not hinder
me; to accuse me then, was but the error of his me paying every one what's due to their merit: I
virtue; you ought to love him, thank him, for his shall therefore always think myself obliged to
watchful care.                               treat your misfortunes and your modesty with the
Sir J. 0 miracle of charity I              utmost tenderness.
Dlr. C. Come, come; such breaches must not   Sey. Your good opinion is all I aim at.
be betwixt so good a son and father; forget, for-   Char. Ay; but the more I give it you, the betgive, embrace him, cherish him, and let me bless ter you'll think of me still; and then I must think
the hour I was the occasion of so sweet a recon- the better of you again; and then you the better
cilement.                                     of me, upon that too; and so at last I shall seriousSir J. Hear this, perverse and reprobate! Oh! ly, and you'll begin to think ill of me. But I
couldst thou wrong such more than moral vir- hope, Mr. Seyward, your good sense will prevent
tue?                                         all this.




694                          THE  H Y P O C RITE.                              [AcrT n.
Sey.: I see my folly, Madam, and blush at my out, being convinced that nothing gives so sharp
presumption. Madam, I humbly take my leave.: a point to one's aversion as good breeding; as, on
[Exit. the contrary, ill mangers often hide a secret inChar. Well, he's a pretty young fellow after clination.
ill, and the very first, sure, that ever heard reason   Dr. C. Well then, young lady, be assured so
against himself with so good an understanding.   far am I from the unchristian disposition of reEnter LADY LAMaE-RT...:.turning injuries, that your antipathy to me causes
no hatred in.my soul towards you; on the conLady L. Dear Charlotte, what will become of' trary, I would willingly make you happy, if it
us?-The tyranny of this subtle hypocrite is in- may be done according to my conscience, with
supportable. He has so fortified himself in Sir the interest of heaven in view.
John's opinion, by this last misconduct of your   Char. Why, I can't see, Sir, how heaven can
brother, that I begin to lose my power with him.  be any way concerned in a transaction between
Char. Pray, explain, Madam.               you and me.
Lady L. In spite of all I could urge, he has   Dr. C. When you marry any other person,
consented that the doctor shall this minute come, my consent is necessary.
and be his own advocate.                       Char. So I hear, indeed!-but. pray, doctor,
Char. I'm glad on't; for the beast must come how could your modesty receive so insolent a
like a bear to the stake. I'm sure, he knows I power, without putting my poor father out of
shall bait him.                              countenance with your blushes?
t Lady L. No matter for that; he presses it, to Dr. C. I sought it not; but he would crowd it
keep Sir John still blind to his wicked design up- among other obligations. He is good natured;
on me.-Therefore I come to give you notice, that and I foresaw it might serve to pious purposes.
you might be prepared to receive him.          Char. I don't understand you.
Char. I'm obliged to your ladyship. Our meet-   Dr. C. I take it for granted, that, you would
ing will be a tender scene, no doubt on't.   marry Mr. Darnley. Am I right?
Lady L. But I think I hear the doctor coming    Char. Once in your life, perhaps, you may.
up stairs. My dear girl, at any rate, keep your   Dr. C. Nay, let us be plain. Would you
temper. I shall expect you in my dressing-room, marry him?
to tell me the particulars of your conduct. [Exit.   Char. You're mighty nice, methinks. Well,
Char. He must have a great deal of impudence, I would.
to come in this manner to me.                  Dr. C. Then I will not consent.
Enter BETTY.                    Char. You wont? 
Bet. Doctor Cantwell desires to be admitted,   Dr. C. My conscience will not suffer me. I
Madam.                                       know you to be both luxurious and worldly-mindChar. Let him come in.                    ed; and you would squander upon the vanities of
the world, those treasures which ought to be bet
Enter DOCTOR CANTWELL.             ter laid out.
Your servant, Sir.-Give us chairs, Betty, and    Char. Hum! —I believe I begin to conceive
leave the room.-[Exit BETTY.]-Sir, there's a you.seat-What can the ugly cur say to me — he    Dr. C. If you can think of any project to satisfy
seems a little puzzled.                      my conscience, I am tractable. You know there
Dr. C. Lookye, young lady, I am afraid, not- is a considerable moiety of your fortune which
withstanding your good father's favour, I am not goes to my lady in case of our disagreement.
the man you would desire to be alone with upon    Char. That's enough, Sir.-You think we
this occasion.                               should have a fellow-feeling in it. At what sum
Char. Your modesty is pleased to be in the do you rate your concurrence to my inclinations.
right.                                       that settled, I am willing to strike the bargain.
-Dr. C. I'm afraid too, notwithstanding all my   Dr. C. What do you think of half? 
endeavours, to the contrary, that you entertain a   Char. How! two thousand pounds 
pretty bad opinion of me.                      Dr. C. Why, you know you gain two thouChar. A worse, Sir, of no mortal breathing.   sand pounds; and really the severity of the times
Dr. C. Which opinion is immoveable.       for the poor, and my own stinted pittance, which
Char.. No rock so firm.                   cramps my charities, will not suffer me to require
Dr. C. I am afraid then it will be a vain pur- less.
suit, when I solicit you, in compliance with my    Char. But how is my father to be brought into
worthy friend's desire, and my own inclinations, this?
to become~ my partner in that blessed estate in   Dr. C. Leave that to my management.
which we may be a comfort and support to each    Char. And what security do you expect for the
other.                                       money?
Char. I would die rather than consent to it.  Dr. C. Oh! Mr. Darnley is wealthy: when I
Dr. C. In other words, you hate me.        deliver my consent in writing, he shall lay it down
Char. Most transcendently.                to me in bank-bills.
Dr. C. Well, there is sincerity at least in your   Char. Pretty good security! On one proviso,
confession: you are not, I see, totally deprived of though.
all virtue, though I must say I never could per-   Dr. C. Name it.
ceive in you lut very little.                  Char. That you immediately tell my father,
Char. Oh, fy! you flatter me.            that you are willing to give up your interest to
-Dr. C. No; I speak it with sorrow, because Mr. Darnley.
you are the daughter of my best friend. But how    Dr. C. Hum!-stay —  agree to it; but in the
arewe to proceed now 2 are we to preserve temper? mean time, let me warn you, child, not to expect
Char. Oh! never fear me, Sir, I shall not fly to turn that, or what has now passedtbetween us.




TH E- HYP OCRITE.                                    695
to -my confusion, by sinister construction; -or evil you must absolutely get him a commission, and
representation to your father. I am satisfied of bring him into acquaintance.
the piety of my own intentions, and care not what   Darn. Upon my word I will.
the wicked think of them; but force me not to take   Char. And show him to all the women of taste:
advantage of Sir John's good opinion of me, in or- and I'll have you call him my pretty fellow, too.
der to shield myself from the consequences of your   Darn. I will, indeed!-but hear memalice.                                        Char. You can't conceive how prettily he makes
Char. Oh! I shall not stand in my own light: love.
I know your conscience and your power too well,   Darn. Not so well as you make your defbnce,
dear doctor!                                Charlotte.
Dr. C. Well, let your interest sway  you.   Char. Lord! I had forgot, he is to teach me
Thank Heaven, I am actuated by more worthy Greek, too.
motives.                                       Darn. Trifling tyrant! how long, Charlotte,
Char. No doubt on't.                      do you think you can find new evasions for what
Dr. C. Farewell, and think me your friend.    I say unto you 1
[Exit.    Char. Lord t you are horrid silly; but since
Char. What this fellow's original was, I know'tis love that makes you such a dunce- poor Darnnot; but by his conscience and cunning, he would ley, I forgive you.
make an admirable Jesuit.
Enter COLONEL LAMBERT, unobserved.
Enter SERVANT.
Enter SEANT.  arn. That's kind, however.-But, to comServ. Madam, Mr. Darnley.                 plete my joy, be kinder yet-andChar. Desire him to walk in. [Exit ERVANT.   Char. Oh! I can't! I can't!-Lord! did you
never ride a horse-match.
Darn. Was ever so wild a question!
Darn. To find you thus alone, Madam, is a    Char. Because, if you have, it runs in my head
happiness I did not expect, from the temper of you galloped a mile beyond the winning-post, to
our last parting.                            make sure on't.
* Char. I should have been as well pleased now,   Darn. Now, I understand you. But since you
to have been thanked, as reproached, for my good will have me touch every thing so very tenderly,
nature; but you will be in the right, I find.  Charlotte, how shall I find proper words to ask
Darn. Indeed, you take me wrong. I literally you the lover's last necessary question.
mean that I was afraid you would not so soon    Char. Oh! there's a thousand points to be adthink I had deserved this favour.           justed before that's answered.
Char. Well, but were you not silly now?    Col. L. [Advances.] Name them this moment;
Darn. Come, you shall not be serious: you for, positively, this is the last time of asking.
can't be more agreeable.                       Char. Pshaw! who sent for you?
Char. Oh! but I am serious.                 Col. L. I only came to teach you to speak plain
Darn. Then I'll be so.-Do you forgive me all? English, my dear.
Char. What?                                 Char. Lord! mind your own business; can't
Darn. Are we friends, Charlotte?         you!
Char. 0 Lord; but you have told me nothing    Col. L. So 1 will; for I will make you do more
of poor Seyward!                            of yours in two minutes, than you would have
Darn. Must you needs know that, before you done without me in a twelvemonth. Why, how
answer met                                  now!-do you think the man's to dangle after
Char. Lord! you are never well till you have your ridiculous airs for ever?
talked one out of countenance.                 Char. This is mighty pretty!
Darn. Come, I wont be too particular; you    Col. L. You'll say so on Thursday se'nnight,
shall answer nothing-Give me but your hand for (let affairs take what turn they will in the
only.                                       family,) that's positively your wedding-day-Nay,
Char. Pshaw! I wont pull off my glove, not I. you sha'n't stir.
Darn. I'il take it as it is then.            Char. Was ever such assurance!
Char. Lord! there, there; eat it, eat it.  Darn. Upon my life, Madam, I'm out of counteDarn. And so I could, by Heaven!          nance! I don't know how to behave myself.
Char. Oh, my glove! my glove! my glo'e! you    Char. No, no; let him go on only-this is
are in a perfect storm! Lord! if you make such a beyond what ever was known, sure!
rout with one's hand, what would you do if you    Col. L. Ha, ha! if I was to leave you to yourhad one's heart?                           selves what a couple of pretty out of countenanced
Darn. That's impossible to tell.-But you figures you would make! humming and hawing
were asking me of Seyward, Madam 1.      upon the vulgar points of jointure and pin-money.
Char. Oh, ay! that's true. Well, now you Come, come, I know what's proper on both sides;
are very good again.-Come, tell me all the affair, you shall leave it to me.
and then you shall see-how 1 will like you.    Darn. I had rather Charlotte would name her
Darn. There is not much to tell-only this: own terms to me.
we met the attorney-general, to whom he has given    Col. L. Have you a mind to any thing particu'
a very sensible account of himself, and the doctor's lar, Madam 1
proceedings.-The attorney-general seems very    Char. Why, sure! what, do you think I'm
clear in his opinion, that, as the doctor, at the only to be filled out as you please, and sweetened
time of the death of Seyward's mother, was in- and sipped up like a dish of tea?
trusted with her whole affairs, the Court of Equity   Col. L. Why, pray, Madam, when your tea's
will oblige him to be accountable.          ready, what have you to do but to drink it? —but
Char. If Seyward does not recover his fortune, you, I suppose, expect a lover's heart, like you



696                           THE HYPOCRITE.                                    [ACT- V
lamp, should be always flaming at your elbow; Has not the doctor, just now in the garden spoke
and when it's ready to go out, you indolently  in favour of Mr. Darnley to you? Nay pray, Sir
supply it with the spirit of contradiction.  be plain; because more depends on that than you
Char. And so you suppose, that your assurance can easily imagine or believe.
has made an end of this matter?                 Sir J. What senseless insinuation have you
Col. L. Not till you have given him your hand  got into your head now.
upon it.                                        Char. Be so kind, Sir, first to answer me, that
Char. That then would complete it.         I may be better able to inform you.
Col L. Perfectly.                            Sir J. Well, I own he has declined his interest
Char. Why, then take it, Darnley. Now I in favour of Mr. Darnley; but I must tell you,
presume you are in high triumph, Sir.        Madam, he did it in so modest, so friendly, sc
Col. L. No. sister; now you are consistent with  good natured, so conscientious a manner, that I
that good sense I always thought you mistress of. now think myself more than ever bound in hoChar. And now I beg we may separate; for nour to espouse him.
our being seen together, at this critical juncture,   Char. But now, Sir, only for argument's sake,
may give that devil, the doctor, suspicion of a suppose I could prove that all this seeming virtue
confederacy, and make him set some engine at was artificial; that this regard for Mr. Darnley
work that we are not aware of.               was neither founded upon modesty, friendship,
Col. L. It's a very proper caution.  Come good nature, nor conscience; or in short that he
along, Darnley; nay, you must leave her now, has, like a villain, bartered, bargained to give me
whatever violence you do yourself.           to Mr. Darnley, for half the four thousand pounds
Char. Ay, ay, take him with you, brother-or you valued his consent at; I say, Sir, suppose this
stay, Darnley; if you please, you may come along could be proved, where would be his virtue then?
with me.                           [Exeunt.   Sir J. It is impious to suppose it.
Char. Then, Sir, from what principle mustyou
ACT V.                     suppose that I accuse him?
SCENE I.-A Parlour at SIR JOHN LAM-          Sir J. From an obstinate prejudice to all that's
BERT S.                    good and virtuous.
Char. That's too hard, Sir. But the worst
Enter DARNLEY anid CHARLOTTE.          your opinion can provoke me to, is to marry Mr.
Char. But really, will you stand to the agree- Darnley, without either his consent or yours.
ment though, that I have made with the doctor?  Sir J. What, do you brave me, Madam?
Darn. Why not  you shall not break your   Char. No, Sir; but I scorn a lie; and will so
word upon my account, though he might be a far vindicate my integrity, as to insist on your
villain you gave it to. Suppose I should talk with  believing me; if not, as a child you abandon, I
Sir John myself? —'tis true, he has slighted me have a right to throw myself into other arms for
of late.                                     protection.
Char. No matter-here he comes —this may    Sir J. I am confounded. These tears cannot
open another scene of action to that I believe my be counterfeit; nor can this be true.
brother's preparing for.                       Lady L. Indeed, my dear, I fear it is. Give
Enter SIR JOHN and LADY LAMBERT.        me leave to ask one question. In all our mutual
course of happiness, have I ever yet deceived you
Sir J. Mr. Darnley, I am glad I have met you  with a falsehood?
here.                                           Sir J. Never.
Darn. I have endeavoured twice to-day, Sir, to   Lady L. Would you then believe me, should
pay my respects to you.                      I accuse him even of crimes which virtue blushes
Sir J. Sir, I'll be plain with you, I went out but to mention?
to avoid you; but where the welfare of a child is   Sir J. To what extravagance would you drive
concerned, you must not take it ill if we don't me!
stand upon ceremony-However, since I have   Lady L. I would before have undeceived you,
reason now to be more in temper than perhaps I when his late artifice turned the honest duty of
was at that time, I shall be glad to talk with you. your son into his own reproach and ruin; but,
Darn. I take it as a favour, Sir.          knowing then your temper was inaccessible, I
Sir J. You must allow, Mr. Darnley, that con- durst not offer it. But suppose I should be able
science is the rule which every honest man ought to let you see his villany, make him repeat his
to walk by.                                  odious love to me in your own hearing, at once
Darn.'Tis granted, Sir.                   throw off' the mask, and show the barefaced traiSir J. Then give me leave to tell you, Sir, that tor?
giving you my daughter would be to act against   Sir J. Is it possible?
that conscience I pretend to, while I think you an    Lady L. But then, Sir, I must prevail on you
ill liver; and consequently the same tie obliges me to descend to the poor shifts we are reduced to.
to bestow her on a. better man-                Sir J. All; to any thing, to ease me of my
Darn. Well but, Sir, come to the point. Sup- doubts; make me but a witness of this fact, and 1
pose the doctor (whom I presume you design her shall soon accuse myself, and own my folly equal
for) actually consents to give me up his interest? to his baseness.
Sir J. But why do you suppose, Sir, he will   Lady L. Behind that screen you may easily
give up his interest?                       conceal you self.
Darn. I only judge from what your daughter   Sir J. Be it so.
tells me, Sir.                                 Lady L. Mr. Darnley, shall we beg your leave
Sir J. My daughter!                        and you, Charlotte, take the least suspected wa.x
Darn. I appeal to her.                    to send the doctor to me directly.
Char, And I appeal even to yourself, Sir-    Char. I have a thought will do it, Madam.




SENE I.]                     THE HYPOCRITE.                                       697
Sir J. Oh, Charlotte! Oh, Mr. Darnley.   shadow of compliance, meant only to persuade me
Darn. Have but resolution, Sir, and fear no- from your daughter.
thing.    [Exeunt D-ARNLEY and CHARLOTTE.   Lady L. Methinks, this doubt of me seems
Lady L. Now, Sir, you are to consider what a rather founded on your settled resolution not to
desperate disease I have undertaken to cure: resign her.-I am convinced of it. I can assure
therefore, be sure keep close and still; and when you, Sir, 1 should have saved you this trouble, had
the proof is full, appear at your discretion.  I known how deeply you were engaged to her.
Sir J. Fear not; I will conform myself-Yet,   Dr. C. Tears-then I must believe you-but
be not angry, my love, if, in a case like this, I indeed you wrong me. To prove my innocence,
have also charity enough to hope you may yet be it is not an hour since I pressed Sir John to give
deceived in what you charge him with, till the Charlotte to young Darnley.
evidence of my own senses assure me of the con-   Lady L. Mere artifice. You knew that motrary.                                       dest resignation would make Sir John warmer in
Lady L.'Tis just.                         your interest.
Sir J. Hark! I think I hear him coming.      Dr. C. No, indeed, indeed. I had other moLady L. Now, my dear, remember your pro- tives, which you may hereafter be made acquaintmise to have patience.                       ed with, and will convince youSir J. Rely upon't.                         Lady L. Well, Sir, now I'll give you reason
Lady L. To your post then.                 to guess the reason why, at our last meeting, I
[SIR JOHN goes behind the screen. pressed you so warmly to resign Charlotte.
Dr. C. Ah dear! ah dear!
Enter DOCTOR CANTWELL, with a book.        Lady L. You cannot blame me for having opDr. C. Madam, your woman tells me, that, be- posed your happiness, when my own, perhaps,
ng here and alone, you desired to speak with me. depended upon it.
Lady L. I did, Sir-but that we may be sure   Dr. C. Spare me, spare me; you kill me with
that we are alone, pray shut the outward door- this kindness.
another surprise might ruin us-is all safe.   Lady L. But now that I have discovered my
Dr. C. I have taken care, Madam.           weakness, be secret; for the least imprudenceLady L. But I am  afraid I interrupt your   Dr. C. It is a vain fear.
meditation.                                    Lady L. Call it not vain; my reputation is
Dr. C. No, Madam, no; I was only looking dearer to me than life.
over some pious exhortations here, for the use of   Dr. C. Where can it find so sure a guard?
a society of chosen brethren.                The grave austerities of my life will dumb-found
Lady L. Ah, doctor, what have you done to suspicion, and yours may defy detraction.
me? the trouble of my mind since our last un-   Lady L. Well, doctor,'tis you must answer
fortunate conference is not to be expressed. You for my folly.
indeed discovered to me what, perhaps, for my   Dr. C. I take it all upon myself
own peace,'twere better I had never been ac-   Lady L. But there's one thing still to be
quainted with; but I had not sufficient time to lay afraid of.
my heart open to you.                          Dr. C. Nothing, nothing.
Dr. C. Whither, Madam, would you lead me?   Lady L. My husband, Sir John.
Lady L. I have been uneasy too, not knowing    Dr. C. Alas, poor man! I will answer for him.
how far you might mistake my behaviour on the Between ourselves, Madam, your husband is
last accident that happened, but 1 was really so weak; I can lead him by the nose any where.
shocked, so terrified, I knew not what I was do-   Sir J. [Comes forward.] No, caitiff, I'm to be
ing: only, had I joined in your defence against led no farther.
the colonel, it would have been evident that I was   Dr. C. Ah! woman.
his enemy, and I have uses for his friendship.   Sir J. Is this your sanctity  this your doeSilence, therefore, was my own prudent part: and trine. these your meditations?
I knew your credit with Sir John needed no sup-   Dr. C. Is then my brother in a conspiracy
port.                                       against me?
Dr. C. Let me presume then to hope, that what   Sir J. Your brother! I have been your friend,
I did, you judge was self-defence and pure neces- indeed, to my shame; your dupe; but your spell
sity.                                        has lost its hold: no more canting; it will not
Lady L. And perhaps, after all, the accident serve your turn any longer.
was lucky; for Sir John, in order to obviate any    Lady L. Now, Heaven be praised.
ill constructions that may be put upon it, insists   Dr. C. It seems you wanted an excuse to part
now that we should be more together, to let the with me.
world see his confidence in us both. This relieves   Sir J. Ungrateful wretch! but why do 1 apus from restraint; and I now dare tell you-but proach you! Had I not been the weakest of manno-I wont-                                   kind, you never could have proved so great a vilDr. C. But why, Madam? let me beseecL lain. Get out of my sight; leave my house; of
you-                                         all my follies, which is it tells you, that if you stay
Lady L. No-besides-what need you ask much longer, I shall not be tempted to wrest you
me-                                          out of the hands of the law, and punish you as
Dr. C. Ah! do not endeavour to decoy my you deserve!
foolish heart, too apt to flatter itself. You cannot   Dr. C. Well; but first let me ask you, Sir, who
sure think kindly of me!                     is it you menace. consider your own condition,
Lady L. Well, well. I would have you ima- and where you are?
gine so.                                       Sir J. What would the villain drive at 1. leave
Dr. C. Besides, may I not with reason suspect, me. I forgive you. but once more I tell you,
that this apparent goodness is but artifice; a seek some other place; out of my house. This
VOL. I.. 4T        59




''698                        THE.H YPOC RI T F.                              [ACT I.nstant be -gone, and see my shameful face no   Enter CANTWELL, DARNLYF,' SYWARD~,
more.                                                       and Servants.
Dr. C. Nay, then,'tis my duty to exert my-   Darn. Here, bring in this ruffian; this is vie
self, -and let you know that I am master here.    eyond example
lany beyond example.
Turn you out, Sir; this house is mine; and now,'Sir J. What means this outrage?
Sir, at your peril, dare to insult me. Lady L. I tremble.
Sir J. 0 Heavens!'tis true: whither shall I   Sey. Don't be alarmed, Madam-there is no
fly to hide me from the world    mischief done: what was intended, the doctor here
Lady L. Whither are you going, Sir        can best inform you.
Sir J. I know not-but here it seems I am a   Sir J. Mr. Darnley, 1 am ashamed to see you.
trespasser-the master of the house has warned    Maw. So you ought: but this good man is
me hence-and, since the right is now in him, ashamed of nothing.'tis just I should resign it.                 Dr. C. Alas! my enemies prevail.
Lady L. You shall not stir. He dares not act   Sey. In short, gentlemen, the affair is circumwith such abandoned insolence. No, Sir, posses- stantially this-The doctor called me out into the
sion still is yours. If he pretends a right, let him  pavilion in the garden; appeared in great disby open course of law maintain it order; told me here was a sudden storm raised,
-Dr. C. Ha!  Here!  Seyward!       [Exit. which he was not sufficiently prepared to weather.
Enter Old LADY LAMBERT and MAWWV~TORM.   He said, his dependence was upon me; and at all
events, I must be ready to swear, when he called
Sir J. Who is this fellow'. what do you want, upon me, I had seen him pay Sir John several
man'                                       large sums of money. He talked confusedly about
Maw. My lady, come up.                    giving value for an estate; but I boldly refused to
Old Lady L. How now!                     perjure myself; and told him, on the contrary, I
Maw. He wants to know who I be.            was satisfied he had fleeced Sir John of several
Old Lady L. The gentleman is a friend of large sums, under pretence of charitable uses,
mine, son. I was carrying him in a coach to at- which he secretly converted to his own.-This
tend a controversy that's to be held this evening, stung him, and he fastened at my throat. Then,
at the Rev. Mr. Scruple's, about an affair of indeed, all temper left me; and, disengaging mysimony; and called to take up the doctor. But self from his hold, with a home-blow, I struck
what strange tales are these I hear below?  him  down. At this, grown desperate, he ran
Sir J. The doctor's a. villain, Madam; I have with fury to some pistols that hung about the
detected him; detected him in the horrible design chimney: but in the instant he reached one, I
of seducing my wife.                         seized upon his wrist; and as we grappled, the
Maw. It's unpossible.                     pistol, firing to the ceiling, alarmed the family.
Sir.1 What do you say, man?                 Old Lady L. This is a lie, young man; I see
Maw. I say, it's unpossible. He has been the devil standing at your elbow.
locked up with my wife for hours together, morn-   Maw. So do I, with a great big pitchfork, pushing, noon, and night, and I never found her the ing himon.
worse for him.                                 Dr. C. Well, what have you more against me q
Old Lady L. Ah, son! son!                  Darn. More, Sir, I hope is needless-but if
Sir J. What is your ladyship going to say Sir John is yet unsatisfied.
now 2Sir J. Oh! I have seen too much.
Old Lady L. The doctor is not in fault.     Dr. C. I demand my liberty.
Sir J.'Slife, Madam!                        Sir J. Let him go.
Old Lady L. Oh, he swears! he swears! years   Enter COLONEL LAMBERT and Attendants.
in growing good, we become profligate in a moment. If you swear again, I wont stay in the   Col. L. Hold, Sir! not so fast; you can't pass.
house.                                         Dr. C. Who, Sir, shall dare to stop me?
Maw. Nor I neither; aren't you ashamed of   Col. L. Within there!
yourself? have you no commenseration on your               Enter TIPSTAFF.
poor soul 2-Ah! poor, wicked sinner! I pity you.
Sir J.'Sdeath! and the devil!              Tip. Is your name Cantwell, Sir?
Maw. If you swear any more, I'll inform    Dr. C. What if it be, Sir?
against you.                         -         Tip. Then, Sir, I have my lord chief justice's
Sir J. Why would you bring this idiot, Ma- warrant against you.
dam? 2'       Dr. C. Against me
Maw. Ay, do despise me, I'm the prouder for   Tip. Yes, Sir, for a cheat and impostor.
it; I likes to be despised.                    Old Lady L. What does he say?
Sir J. Dear son, what is this?
Enter CHARLOTTE.                  Col. L. Only some action of the doctor's, Sir,
which I have affidavits in my hand here to prove,
Char. Oh dear papa, I shall faint away; there's from more than one creditable witness; and I
murder doing.  i.                           think it my duty to make the public acquainted
Sir J. Who! when! what is it?            with: if he can acquit himself of them, so; if not,
Char. The doctor, Sir, and Seyward, were at he must take the consequence.
high words just now in the garden; and, upon a   Dr. C. Well, but stay; let the accusations
sudden, there was a pistol fired between them. against me be what they will, by virtue of this
Oh! I'm afraid poor Seyward is killed.      conveyance I am still master here; and if I am
Sir J. How?                              forced to leave the house myself, I will shut up
Char. Oh, the,. he comes himself; he'll tell the doors —nobody shall remain behind
you more.                                      Sir J. There! there! indeed; he stings me to




SBCE I.]                      THE HYPOCRITE.                                       699
the heart! for that rash act, reproach and endless   Char. Come, no set speeches; if I deserve
shame will haunt me!                         your thanks, return them in friendship to your
Char. No, Sir!-be comforted.-Even there first preserver.
too his wicked hopes must leave him; for know,   Col. L. The business of my life shall be to
the fatal deed which you intended to sign is here, merit it.
even yet unsealed and innocent?                Sey. And mine, to speak my sense of obligaSir J. What mean you 2                     tions.
Char. I mean, Sir, that -this deed by accident   Sir J. Oh, my child! for my deliverance I can
falling into this gentleman's hands, his generous only reward you here.-For you, my son, whose
concern for our family discovered it to me; and filial virtue I have injured, this honest deed shall
that in concert we procured that other to be drawn in every article be ratified.-And for the sake of
exactly like it; which, in your impatience to exe- that hypocritical villain, I declare, that from hencecute, passed unsuspected for the original. Their forward I renounce all pious folks; 1 will have an
only difference is, that wherever here you read utter abhorrence for every thing. that bears the
the doctor's name, there you'll find my brother's.  appearanceDr. C. Come, Sir; lead me where you please.    Char. Nay now, my dear Sir, I must take the
[Exit. liberty to tell you, you go from one extreme to
Col. L. Secure your prisoner.              another.-What, because a worthless wretch has
Old Lady L. I don't know what to make of imposed upon you, under the fallacious show of
all this.                                    austere grimace, will you needs have it every body
iIlaw. They'll all go to the devil for what they is like him; confound the good with the bad, and
are doing-Come away, my lady, and let us see conclude there are no truly religious in the world?
after the good dear doctor. Ay, do laugh, you'll -Leave, my dear Sir, such rash consequences to
go to the devil for all that.-Come, my lady, you fools and libertines.-Let us be careful to disgo first..tinguish between virtue and the appearance of it.
[Exeunt MAWWORM and -Old LADYLAMBERT. Guard if. possible. against doing honour to hypo-Char.- Now, Darnley, I -hope I have made crisy —But, at the same time, let us allow there is
atonement for your jealousy.:                no character in life, greater or. more valuable than
Darn. You've banished- it:for ever! this was that. of the truly devout-nor any thing more nobeyond yourself surprising.                  ble or more beautiful, than the fervour of a sincere
Col. L. Sister-                            piety.                             [Exeunt.




THE MOCK DOCTOR:
A FAROE,
IN TWO ACTS.
BY HENRY FIELDING, ESQ.
REMARK
MOLIERE'S comedy of Le.Medecin malgre lui is the parent-stock whence our ingenious countr, wan, Henry
Fielding, has deduced the present whimsical farce; which is, however, but slightly altered from tae original in
plot, situation, and conduct. The knavery of Gregory will not find a parallel in Englihil habits, though our
continental neighbours enlarge on the credulity of honest John Bull; but similar portraits'. are frequent in'.
Sage and their other writers, probably derived from an experience we need not envy.
DRAMATIS PERSON/AE.
DRURY LANE.
GREGORY.............................................Mr. Matthews.
SIR JASPER,...                                         Mr. Maddocks.
LEANDER,....Mr. Cooke.
HARRY.......................................           Mr. Fisher.
JAMES,........Mr. Abbot.
CHARLOTTE,.......                                      Miss Boyce.
DORCAS..........................Miss Melon.
MAID,........Miss Tidswell
ACT I.                      I attended a travelling physician six years, under
the facetious denomination of a Merry Andrewo,
SCENE. —A  Wood.                  where I learnt physic.:F~rz~er DORCAs and GREGORY.             Dor. 0 that thou hadst followed him  still!
cursed be the hour wherein I answered the parson
Greg. I tell you no, I wont comply, and it is -I will.
my business to talk and to command.              Greg. And cursed be the parson that asked me
Dor. And I tell you, you shall conform to my  the question!
will; and that I was not married to you to suffer   Dor. You have reason to complain of him, inyour ill-humours.                              deed, who ought be on your knees every moment,
Greg. 0 the intolerable fatigue of matrimony! returning thanks to Heaven for that great blessAristotle never said a better thing in his life, than  ing it sent you, when it sent you myself-I hope
when he told us, " that a wife is worse than a you have not the assurance to think you deserve
devil."                                        such a wife as me.
Dor. Hear the learned gentleman, with his    Greg. No, really, I don't think I do.-Come,
Aristotles!                                   come, Madam, it was a lucky day for you, when
Greg. And a learned man I am too; find me you found me out.
out a maker of faggots, that's able, like myself,   Dor. Lucky, indeed! a fellow who eats every
to reason upon things, or that can boast such an  thing. I have.
education as mine.                               Greg. That happens to be a mistake, for I
Dor. An education!                          drink some part on't.
Greg. Ay, hussy, a regular education; first at   Dor. That has not even left me a bed to lie on.
the charity-school, where I learnt to read; then I    Greg. You'll rise the earlier.
waited on a gentleman at Oxford, where I learnt   Dor. And who from morning till niight is etervery near as much as my master; from whence nally in an alehouse.
700




IascmEI.                   THE MOCK DOCTOR.                                       701
Greg. It s genteel, the squire does the same.       Enter HARRY and JAMES.
Dor. Pray, Sir, what are you willing I shall do
with my family?                               Har. Were ever two fools sent on such a mesGreg. Whatever you please.                sage as we are, in quest of a dumb doctor.
Dor. My four little children, that are continu-   Jam. Blame your own cursed memory, that
ally crying for bread,                       made you forget his name. For my part, I'll traGreg. Give'em a rod! best cure in the world vel through the world rather than return without
for crying children.                         him; that were as much as a limb or two were
Dor. And do you imagine, sot-             worth.
Greg. Hark ye, my dear; you know my tem-   lar. Was ever such a cursed misfortune! to
per is not over and above passive, and that my lose the letter! I should not even know his name
arm is extremely active.                     if I were to hear it.
Dor. I laugh at your threats, poor, beggarly,   Dor. Can I find no invention to be revenged?insolent fellow.                             Heyday! who are these?
Greg. Soft object of my wishing eyes, I shall   Jam. Harkye, mistress, do you know whereplay with your pretty ears.                  where-where doctor what-d'ye call him lives! 
Dor. Touch me, if you dare, you insolent, im-   Dor. Doctor who?
pudent, dirty, lazy, rascally-                 Jam. Doctor-doctor-what's his name?
Greg. Oh, ho, ho! you will have it then, I   Dor. Hey! what has the fellow a mind to banfind.                            [Beats her. ter me 2
Dor. 0 murder! murder!                      Har. Is there no physician hereabouts, famous
Enter SQUIRE ROBERT.              for curing dumbness?
Dor. I fancy you have no need of such a phyRob. What's the matter here? fie upon you, sician, Mr. Impertinence.
neighbour, to beat your wife in this scandalous   Har. Don't mistake us, good woman; we don't
manner.                                      mean to banter you; we are sent by our master,
Dor. Well, Sir, and I have a mind to be beat, whose daughter has lost her speech, for a certain
and what then?.       physician, who lives hereabouts; we have lost
Rob. 0 dear, Madam! I give my consent with our direction, and'tis as much as our lives are
all my heart and soul.                       worth to return without him.
Dor. What's that you, saucebox?  Is it any   Dor. There is one Doctor Lazy lives just by,
business of yours?                         but he has left off practising. You would not
Rob. No, certainly, Madam,                get him a mile, to save the lives of a thousand
Dor. Here's an impertinent fellow for you, patients.
wont suffer a husband to beat his own wife!   Jam. Direct us but to him; we'll bring him
Rob. Neighbour, I ask your pardon heartily; with us one way or other, I warrant you.
here, take and thrash your wife, beat her as you   Har. Ay, ay, we'll have him with us, though
ought to do.                                 we carry him on our backs.
Greg. No, Sir, I wont beat her.             Dor. Ha! Heaven has inspired me with one
Rob. O! Sir, that's another thing.       of the most admirable inventions to be revenged
Greg. I'll beat her when I please, and will not on my hang-dog! [Aside.] I assure you, if you
beat her when I do not please. She is my wife, can get him with you, he'll do your young lady's
and not yours.                              business for her; he's reckoned one of the best
Rob. Certainly.                           physicians in the world, especially for dumbness.
Dor. Give me the stick, dear husband.       Har. Pray, tell us where he lives?
Rob. Well, if ever I attempt to part husband   Dor. You'll never be able to get him out of his
and wife again, may I be beaten myself.  [Exit. own house; but, if you watch hereabouts, you'll
Greg. Come, my dear, let us be friends.   certainly meet with him, for he very often amuses
Dor. What, after beating me so?          himself here with cutting of wood.
Greg.'Twas but in jest.                    Har. A physician cut wood?
Dor. I desire you will crack your jests on your   Jam. I suppose he amuses himself in searching
own bones, not on mine.                     after herbs, you mean.
Greg. Psha! you know, you and I are one,   Dor. No, he's one of the most extraordinary
and I beat one half of myself when I beat you.  men in the world: he goes dressed like a coirn
Dor. Yes, but for the future I desire you will mon clown; for there is nothing he so much
beat the other half of yourself.            dreads, as to be known for a physician.
Greg. Come, my pretty dear, I ask pardon,   Jam. All your great men have strange oddities
I'm sorry for't.                            about'em.
Dor. For once I pardon you,-but you shall   Dor. Why, he will suffer himself to be beat,
pay for it.                                 before' he will own himself to be a physician:
Greg. Psha! Psha! child, these are only little and I'll give you my word, you'll never make him
affairs, necessary in friendship; four or five good own himself one, unless you both of you take a
blows with a cudgel between your very fond cou- good cudgel, and thrash him into it;'tis what we
ples, only tend to heighten the affections. I'll are all forced to do when we have any need of him.
now to the wood, and I promise thee to make a   Jam. What a ridiculous whim is here!
hundred faggots before I come home again. [Exit.   Dor. Very true; and in so great a man.
Dor. If I am not revenged on those blows of   Jam. And is he so very skilful a man?
yours!-Oh, that I could but think of some me-   Dor. Skilful? why he does miracles. About
thod to be revenged on him! Hang the rogue, half a year ago, a woman was given over by all
he's quite insensible of cuckoldom.-Oh, that I her physicians, nay, she had been dead some. time 
could find out some invention to get him well when this great man came to her, as soon as he
drubbed!                                    saw her, he poured a little drop of something
59*




702                         THE M'OCK DOCTOR.'[ACTL'
down her throat-he had no sooner done it, than   Jam. 0 pray, Sir, leave this -idle discourse.
she got out of her bed, and walked about the room, Can a person, -like you, amuse himself in -this
as if there had been nothing the matter-with her. manner?  Can a learned and famous physician,
Both. Oh, prodigious!     -                like you, try to disguise himself to the world, and
-Dor.'Tis not above three weeks ago, that a bury such fine talents in the woods?
child of twelve years old fell from the top of a    Greg. The fellow's a fool.
house -to the bottom, and broke its skull, its arms,   Jam. Let me intreat you, Sir, not to dissemble
and legs.-Our. physician was no sooner drubbed with us.
into making him a visit, than, having rubbed the   Har. It is in vain, Sir; we: know what you are.
child all over with a certain ointment, it got upon    Greg. Know what you are! what do you know
its legs, and ran away to play...           of me?
Both. Oh, most wonderful!                   Jam. Why, we know you, Sir, to be a very
Har. Hey, gad, James we'll drub him out of a great physician.
pot of this ointment.                          Greg. Physician in your teeth! I a physician!
Jam. But can he cure dumbness-.          -- Jam. The fit is on him.-Sir, let me beseech
Dor. Dumbness! why the curate of —our pa- you to conceal yourself no longer, and oblige us
rish's wife was born dumb, and the doctor, with to-you know what.    -    -
a sort of wash, washed her: tongue'till he set it   Greg. Devil take me, if I know what, Sir. —
a-going, so that in less than a -month's time she But I know this, that I'm no physician.
out-talked her husband.                        Jam. We must proceed to the usual remedy, I
-Har. This must be the very man we:were sent find. And so you are no physician-?
after.                                         Greg. No.
Dor. Yonder is the very man I speak of.     Jam. You are no physician?
Jam. What, that he yonder?  -                Greg. No, I tell you.
Dor. The very same.-He has spied us, and   Jam. Well, if we must,~ we must. [Beats him.,
taken up his bill.          -                  Greg. Oh! oh! Gentlemen! Gentlemen! what
Jam. Come, Harry, don't let us lose one mo- are you doing. I am —I-am-whatever you please
ment.-Mistress, your servant; we give you- ten to have me!
thousand thanks for this favour.               Jam. Why will you oblige us, Sir, to this vioDor. Be sure and make good use of your sticks. lence?
Jam. He sha'n't want that.    -  [Exeunt.   Har. Why will you force us to this troublesome
SCENE I.-Another part of the Wood.   remedy?
Jam. I assure you, Sir, it gives me a great deal
Enter JAMES, HARRY, and GREGORY.        of pain.
Greg. Pox on't!'tis most -confounded hot   Greg. I assure you, Sir, and so it does me.
weather. Hey! who have we here   -          But pray, gentlemen, what is the reason that you
Jam. Sir, your most obedient, humble servant. have a mind to make a physician of me?
Greg. Sir, your servant.                    Jam. What! do you deny your being a physiJam. We are mighty happy in finding you cian again?
here.                                          Greg. And the devil take me if I am.
Greg. Ay, like enough.                      Har. You are no physician?
Jam.'Tis in your power, Sir, to do us a very    Greg. May 1 be hanged, if I am. [They beat
great favour.-We come, Sir, to implore your as-: him.] Oh!-oh!-Dear gentlemen! Oh! for
sistance in a certain affair.                Heaven's sake; 1 am a physician, and an apotheGreg. If it be in my power to give you any cary too, if you'll have me: 1 had' rather be any
assistance, masters, I am very ready to do it.  thing, than be knocked o' the head.
Jam.- Sir, you are extremely obliging-but,   Jam. Dear Sir, I am rejoiced to see you come
dear Sir, let me- beg you'd be covered1 the sun to your senses; I ask pardon ten thousand times
will hurt your complexion.                  for what you have forced us to.
Har. For Heaven's sake, Sir, be covered.     Greg. Perhaps I am deceived myself, and am
Greg. These should be footmen, bytheir- dress: a physician without knowing it. But, dear genbut should be courtiers, by their ceremony.  -tlemen, are you certain I'm a physician?
[Aside.   Jam. Yes, the greatest physician in the world.
Jam. You must not think it strange, Sir, that    Greg. Indeed!
we come thus to seek after you; men of your ca-   Har. A physician that has -cured all sorts of
pacity will be sought after by the whole world....:distempers.
Greg. Truly, gentlemen, though I say it, that I  Greg. The devil I have! 
should not say it, I have a pretty good hand at a   Jam. That has made a woman walk about the
faggot.                                     room after she was dead six hours;
Jam. 0 dear Sir-!                           Har. That set a child upon its legs immediateGreg. You may, perhaps, buy faggots cheaper ly after it had broke'em. 
elsewhere-; but, -if you find such- in all this coun-   Jam. That made the curate's wife, who was
try, you shall have mine for nothing. To make dumb, talk faster than her-husband.
but one word then with you, you shall have mine   Har. Look ye, Sir, you shall -have content;
for ten shillings a hundred.                my master will give you whatever you will de-,
Jam. Don't talk in that manner I desire you.  mand.
Greg. I could not sell'em a penny cheaper, if   Greg.- Shall I have whatever I will demand?'twas to my father. -                         Jam. You may depend upon it.
Jam. Dear Sir, we know you very well-don't   Greg. I- am a physician without doubt —  had
iesr with us in this manner.                forgot it, but I begin to recollect myself-WellGreg, Faith, master, I am so much in earnest, and what is the distemper I am to cure?
iat I can't bate one farthing,:             Jam. My young mistress, Sir,has lost her tongue,




Er eI.]           T    THE MOCK D OC.TOR.                                         703
Greg. The devil take me if I have found it.-    Sir J. Nothing at all, nothing at all, Sir.
But come, gentlemen, if I must go with you, I - Greg. Which I was obliged to have the honour
must have a physician's habit; for a physician  of laying so thick on you.
can no more prescribe without a full wig, than:- Sir J. Let's talk no more of'em, Sir-rmy
without a fee.                     [Exeunt. daughter, doctor, is fallen into a very strange disEnter DORcAs.                 temper.
Greg. Sir, I am overjoyed to hear it: and. 1
Dor. I don't remember my heart has gone so wish with all my heart, you and your whole fapit-a-pat- with joy a long while. Revenge.  is mily had: the same occasion. for me as your daughsurely the most delicious morsel the devil ever ter, to show the great desire I have to serve you.
dropped into the mouth of a woman. And this: Sir J. Sir,: I am obliged to you.is a revenge which costs nothing; for, lack-a-day!   Greg.:I assure you, Sir, I speak from. the.very
to plant horns upon a husband's head is more bottom of my soul.
dangerous-than is imagined. —Odd! I had a nar-   Sir J. I do believe you, Sir, from the very botrow escape when:l met with this fool; the best tom of: mine.
of my market was over, and I began to grow al-   Greg. What is your daughter's name?.:
most as cheap as a cracked China cup.   [Exit.   Sir J. My daughter's name is Charlotte.
Greg. Are you sure she was christened C:harACT II.                    l, 
onr J. No, Sir, she was christened Charlotta.
SCENE I.-SIR JASPER'S House.             Greg. Hum! I had rather she should have
been christened Charlotte. Charlotte is a very
Enter SIR JASPER and JAMES.          good name for a patient:; and let me tell you, the
Sir J. Where is he 2. where is he?: name is often of as much service to the patient
Jam. Only recruiting himself after his journey.. as the physician is.
You need not be impatient, Sir; for, were my         Enter CHARLOTTE and MAID.
young lady dead, he'd bring her to life again. —
He makes no more of bringing a patient to life,   Sir J. Sir, my daughter's here.
than other physicians do of killing him..Greg. Is that my patient   Uponmy:word,.
Sir J.'Tis strange so great a man should have she carries no distemper in her countenance, and
those unaccountable odd humours you mentioned. I fancy a healthy young fellow would sit very
Jam.'Tis but a good blow or two, and he well upon her.
comes immediately to himself. Here he is.      Sir J. You make her smile, doctor.
Greg. So much the better;'tis a very good'
Enter GREGORY and HARRY.            sign when we can get a patient to smile; it is a
sign that the distemper begins to clarify, as we say.
Har. Sir, this is the doctor.              Well, child, what's the matter with you? what's
Sir J. Dear Sir, you're the welcomest man in your distemper?
the world.                 "                   Char. Han, hi, hen, hanGreg. Hippocrates says, we should both be   Greg. What do you say
covered.,                                      Char. Han, hi, han, hon.
Sir J. Ha! does Hippocrates say so? In what:. Greg. What, what, what 2 — 
chapter, pray  Char. Han, hi,. hon —. 
Greg. In his chapter of hats.               Greg. Han! hon! honin. ha!-I: don't:.un'Sir J. Since Hippocrates says so, I shall obey.derstand a word she.says. Han! hi! hon! what
him.                                        the devil of a language is this..
Greg. Doctor, after having exceedingly travel-. Sir J. Why, that's her distemper, Sir.; she's
led in the highway of letters-              become dumb, and no: one can assign the cause-.
Sir J. Doctor! pray whom do you speak to?  -and this distemper, Sir, has kept back her marGreg. To you, doctor.                     riage.
Sir J. Ha, ha.!-I am a knight, thank the    Greg. Kept back her marriage! why so?
king's grace for it; but no.doctor..          Sir J. Because her lover refuses. to have.her
Greg. What, you're no doctor atill she's cured.
Sir J. No, upon my word.                    Greg. 0 lud! was ever such a fool, that would
Greg. You're no doctor.                not have his wife dumb! - would to Heaven.
Sir J. Doctor! no.                       my wife was dumb, I'd be far from desiring to
Greg. There-'tis done.        [Beats him. cure her. Does this distemper, this han, hi, hon,
Sir J. Done, in the devil's name! what's done 2 oppress her very much 1
Greg. Why now you are made a doctor of   Sir J. Yes, Sir.
physic-I am sure it's all the degrees I ever took.   Greg. So much the better. Has she any great
Sir J. What devil of a fellow have you brought pains.
here 2                                         Sir J. Very great.
Jam. I told you, Sir, the doctor had strange    Greg. That's just as I would have it. Give
whims with him.                             me your hand, child. Hum —ha-a very dumb
Sir J. Whims, quotha! —egad, I shall bind pulse indeed.
his physicianship over to his good behaviour, if   Sir J. You have guessed her distemper.
he has any more of these whims.                Greg. Ay, Sir, we great physicians know a
Greg. Sir, I ask pardon for the liberty I have distemper immediately: I know some of the coltaken.                                      lege would call this the Boree, or the Coupee, or
Sir J. Oh! it's very well, it's very well for the Sinkee, or twenty other.distempers; but I
once.                                       give you my word, Sir, your'daughter is nothing
Greg. I am sorry for those blows.         more than dumb-so I'd have you be very easy




704                          THE MOCK DOCTOR.                                   LACT 1.
for there is nothing else the matter with her  Why, my advice is, that you immediately put hex
if she were not dumb, she would be as well as I into a bed warmed with a brass warming-pan
am.                                          cause her to drink one quart of spring water,
Sir J. But I should be glad to know, doctor, mixed with one pint of brandy, six Seville oranges,
from whence her dumbness proceeds?          and three ounces of the best double refined sugar.
Greg. Nothing so easily accounted for. Her   Sir J. Why, this is punch, doctor.
dumbness proceeds from  her having lost her   Greg. Punch, Sir! Ay, Sir;-and what's
speech.                                      better than punch, to make people talk?-Never
Sir J. But whence, if you please, proceeds her tell me of your juleps, your gruels, your-your —
having lost her speech.                     this, and that, and t'other, which are only arts to
Greg. All our best authors will tell you, it is keep a patient in hand a long time. I love to do
the impediment of the action of the tongue.  a business all at once.
Sir J. But if you please, dear Sir, your senti-   Sir J. Doctor, I ask pardon, you shall be obeyment upon that impediment.                   ed.                            [Gives money.
Greg. Aristotle has upon that subject said very    Greg. I'll return in the evening, and see what
fine things; very fine things.               effect it has on her. But hold, there's another
Sir J. I believe it, doctor.               young lady here, that I must apply some little reGreg. Ah! he was a great man; he was in- medies to.
deed a very great man, who upon that subject was   Maid. Who, me? I was never better in my
a man that-but to return to our reasoning: I life, I thank you, Sir.
hold that this impediment of the action of the tongue    Greg. So much the worse, Madam, so much
is caused by certain humours which our great the worse-'tis very dangerous to be very well
physicians call —-humours-humours-ah! -for when one is very well, one has nothing
you understand Latin-                        else to do, but to take physic, and bleed away.
Sir J. Not in the least.                     Sir J. Oh strange! What, bleed when one has
Greg. What, not understand Latin'          no distemper?
Sir J. No indeed, doctor.                    Greg. It may be strange, perhaps, but'tis very
Greg. Cabricius arci Thurum  Cathalimus, wholesome. Besides, Madam, it is not your case,
Singulariter non. Hnec musa, hic, hec, hoc, at present, to be very well; at least, you cannot
Genitivo hujus, hunc, hanc, Musne, Bonus, bona, possibly be well above three days longer: and it
bonum. Estne oratio Latinus. Etiam. Q.uia is always best to cure a distemper before you have
Substantivo et Adjectivum concordat in Generi, it-or as we say in Greek, distemprum bestum
Numerum, et Casus, sic aiunt, prwdicant, clami- est curare ante habestum.-What I shall prescribe
tant, et similibus.                          you, at present, is to take every six hours one of
Sir J. Ah! Why did I neglect my studies?   these boluses.
Har. What a prodigious man is this!         Maid. Ha, ha, ha! Why, doctor, these look
Greg. Besides, Sir, certain spirits passing from  exactly like lumps of loaf sugar.
the left side, which is the seat of the liver, to the    Greg. Take one of these boluses, I say, every
right, which is the seat of the heart, we find the' six hours, washing it down with six spoonfullB
lungs, which we call in Latin, Whiskerus, having of the best Holland's Geneva.
communication with the brain, which we name    Sir J. Sure you are in jest, doctor!-This
in Greek, Jackbootos, by means of a hollow vein, wench does not show any symptom of a disternwhich we call in Hebrew, Periwiggus, meet in per.
the road with the said spirits, which fill the ven-   Greg. Sir Jasper, let me tell you, it were not
tricles of the Omotaplasmus, and because the amiss if you yourself took a little lenitive ph'ysi:
said humours have-you comprehend me well, I shall prepare something for you.
Sir? and because the said humours have a cer-   Sir J. Ha, ha, ha! No, no, doctor, I have e-e
tain malignity-listen seriously, I beg you.    caped both doctors and distempers hitherto, and I
Sir J. I do.                               am resolved the distemper shall pay me the first
Greg. Have a certain malignity that is caused visit.
-be attentive, if you please.                   Greg. Say you so, Sir?  Why then, if I can
Sir J. I am.                               get no more patients here, I must even seek'em
Greg. That is caused, I say, by the acrimony elsewhere, and so humbly beggo te Domine Doof the humours engendered in the concavity of mitii veniam goundi foras.
the diaphragm; thence it arrives, that these va-   Sir J. Well, this is a physician of vast capapours, Propria qune maribus tribuuntur, mascula city, but of exceeding odd humours.  [Exeunt.
dicas, Ut sunt divorum. —This, Sir, is the cause
of your daughter's being dumb.                         SCENE II. —The Street.
Har. 0 that I had but his tongue.
SirJ. It is impossible to reason better, no
doubt. But, dear Sir, there is one thing. —I al-   Lean. Ah, Charlotte! thou hast no reason to
ways thought'till now, that the heart was on the apprehend my ignorance of what thou endurest,
left side, and the liver on the right.       since I can so easily guess thy torment by my own.
Greg. Ay, Sir, so they were formerly, but we -Oh how much more justifiable are my fears.
slave changed all that.-The college, at present, when you have not only the command of a parent,
Sir, proceeds upon an.entire new method.     but the temptation of fortune to allure you!
Sir J. 1 ask your pardon, Sir.
Greg. Oh, Sir! there's no harm-you're
not obliged to know so much as we do.           Greg. Upon my word, this is a good begin.
Sir J. Very true; but, doctor, what would you ning, and sincehave done with my daughter?                   Lean. I have waited for you, doctor, a long
Greg. What would I have done with her  time; I'm come to beg your assistance.




SBCENlE I.]                  THE MOCK DOCTOR.                                          705
Greg. Ay, you have need of my assistance in-    Greg. Pshaw, pshaw, pshaw! I don't underdeed! What a pulse is here! What do you do stand one word that you mean.
out of your bed               [Feels his pulse.   Jam. His wife is sick, doctor, and he has
Lean. Ha, ha, ha! doctor you're mistaken; I brought you a guinea for your advice. Give it the
am not sick, I assure you.                     doctor, friend.        [DAVY gives the guinea.
Greg. How, Sir! not sick! do you think I    Greg. Ay, now I understand you; here's a
don't know when a man is sick, better than he gentleman explains the case. You say your wife
does himself?                                 is sick of the dropsy 2
Lean. Well, if I have any distemper, it is the    Davy. Yes, an't please your worship.
love of that young lady your patient, from whom   Greg. Well, 1 have made a shift to comprehend
you just now came, and to whom, if you convey your meaning at last; you have the strangest way
me, I swear, dear doctor, I shall be effectually cured. of describing a distemper. You say your wife is
Greg. Do you take me for a pimp, Sir, a phy- always calling for drink; let her have as much
sician for a pimp                              as she desires, she can't drink too much; and
Lean. Dear Sir! make no noise.              d'ye hear, give her this piece of cheese!
Greg. Sir, I will make a noise; you're an im-    Davy. Cheese, Sir!
pertinent fellow.                                 Greg. Ay, cheese, Sir. The cheese of which
Lean. Softly, good Sir!                     this is a part, has cured more people of a dropsy,
Greg. I shall show you, Sir, that I'm not such  than ever had it.
a sort of a person, and that you are an insolent,   Davy. I give your worship a thousand thanks;
saucy-[LEANDER gives a purse.]-I'm  not I'll go make her take it immediately.          [Exit.
speaking to you, Sir; but there are certain imper-    Greg. Go; and, if she dies, be sure to bury
tinent fellows in the world, that take people for her after the best manner you can.
what they are not    which always puts me, Sir,
into such a passion, that                                            D
Lean. I ask pardon, Sir, for the liberty I have    Dor. I'm like to pay severely for my frolic, if
taken.                                         I have lost my husband by it.
Greg. 0 dear Sir! no offence in the least.   Greg. Oh, physic and matrimony! my wife!
Pray, Sir, how am I to serve you?               Dor. For, though the rogue used me a little
Lean. This distemper, Sir, which you are roughly, he was as good a workman as any in
sent for to cure, is feigned. The physicians have five miles of his head.
reasoned upon it, according to custom, and have    Greg. What evil stars, in the devil's name,
derived it from the brain, from the bowels, from  have sent her hither? If I could but persuade her
the liver, lungs, lights, and every part of the body; to take a pill or two that I'd give her, I should be
but the true cause of it is love; and is an inven- a physician to some purpose-come hider, child,
tion of Charlotte's to deliver her from a match she leta me feela your pulsa.
dislikes.                                        Dor. What have you to do with my pulse?
Greg. Hum!-suppose you were to disguise    Greg. I am de French physicion, my dear, and
yourself as an apothecary?                    I am to feel a de pulse of the pation.
Lean. I'm not very well known to her father,   Dor. Yes, but 1 am no pation, Sir, nor want no
therefore believe I may pass upon him securely.   physicion, good Dr. Ragou.
Greg. Go then, disguise yourself immediately;   Greg. Begar, you must be put a to bed, and
I'll wait for you here-Ha! methinks I see a pa- take a de peel; me sal give you de little peel dat
tient: I'll e'en continue a physician as long as I sal cure you, as you have more distempre den
live.                           [Exit LEAND. evere were hered off.
Dor. What's the matter with the fool? If you
feel my pulse any more, I shall feel your ears for
Jam. [Speaking to DAVY.] Fear not, if he re- you.
lapse into his humours, I'll quickly thrash him  Greg. Begar, you must takea de peel.
into the physician again. Doctor, I have brought   Dor. Begar, I shall not takea de peel.
you a patient.                                   Greg. I'll take this opportunity to try her.
Davy. My poor wife., doctor, has kept her bed [Aside.]-Maye dear, if you will not letta me
these six months. [GREG. holds out his hand.] If cura you, you sal cura me, you sal be my physiyour worship would find some means to cure her.-  cion, and I will give you de fee.
Greg. What's the matter with her?                                      [Holds out a purse.
Davy. Why, she has had several physicians;   Dor. Ay, my stomach does not go against those
one says'tis the dropsy; another,'tis what-d'ye- pills; and what must I do for your fee 2
call-it, the tumpany; a third says'tis a slow fever;   Greg. Oh begar! me vill show you, me vill
a fourth says the rumatiz; a fifth-           teacha you what you sal doe; you must come
Greg. What are the symptoms?                kissa me now, you must come kissa me.
Davy. Symptoms, Sir?                           Dor. [Kisses him.] As I live, my.very hangGrTeg. Ay, ay, what does she complain of?  dog! I've discovered him in good time, or he had
Davy. Why, she is always craving and craving  discovered me. [Aside.]-Well, doctor, and are
for drink, eats nothing at all. Then her legs are you cured now? 
swelled up as big as a good handsome post, and    Greg. I shall make myself a cuckold presently.
as cold they be as a stone.                    [Aside.]-Dis is not a propre place, dis too
Greg. Come, to the purpose; speak to the pur- publique, for sud any one pass by while I taka
pose, my friend.       [Holding out his hand. dis physique, it vill preventa de opperation.
Davy. The purpose is, Sir, that I am come to    Dor. What physic, doctor?
ask what your worship pleases to have done with    Greg. In your ear, dat.        [ Whispers.
her.                                             Dor. And in in your ear, dat, sirrah, [flitting
VOL. I.... 4U




706                       TH1E:  IM OC K  D OC TO R.                            [ACT II
him a boxn.] Do you dare affront my virtue, you;:  Enter LEAND: ~t.
villain! D'ye think the world should bribe me to:   Greg. I think I shall be revenged of you now,
part with my virtue, my dear virtue! There, take my dear.-So, Sir.
your purse again.                              Lean. I think I make a pretty good apothecary'
Greg. But where's the gold'                now.
Dor. The gold I'll keep, as- an eternal monu-:   Greg. Yes, faith, you're almost as good an apo.
ment of my virtue.                           thecary as I'm a physician, and if you please I'll
Greg. 0 what a happy dog am I, to find my convey you to the patient.
wife so virtuous a woman, when I least expected: Lean.:If I did but- know a few physical hard
it! Oh my injured dear! behold your Gregory, words
your own husband.                               Greg. A -few physicical hard words! why, in
Dor. Ha!                                   a few hard words consists the science. Would
Greg. Oh me, I'm so full of joy, I cannot tell you know as much as the whole faculty-in all inthee more, than that I am as much the happiest of' stant, Sir! come along, come: along. — Hold,
men, as thou art the most virtuous of women.    let me go first; the doctor must always go befobre
Dor. And art thou really my Gregory' And  the apothecary.                     [Exeunt.
hast-thou any more of these purses?
Greg. No,: my dear,: I have no more about me;   SCENE III.-SIR JASPER'S House.
but'tis probable in a few days I may have a hundred; for the strangest accident has happened  SIR JASPER, CHARLOTTE, GREGORY, LEANDER.
me!'    Sir J. Has she made no attempt to speak yet'?
Dor. Yes, my- dear, but'I can: tell you whom    Jam. Not in the least, Sir; so far from it, that,
you are obliged to for that accident;: had you not as she used to make a sort of a noise before, she
beaten me this morning, 1 had never had you is now quite silent.
beaten into a physician.'               Sir J. [Looking on his watch.]'Tis almost the
Greg. Oh, oh! then'tis to you I owe all that time the doctor promised to return. Oh! he is
drubbing.                        -here. Doctor, your servant.
Dor. Yes, my dear, though I little dreamt of    Greg. Well, Sir, how does my patient'
the consequence.                                Sir J. Rather worse, Sir, since your prescripGreg. How infinitely I'm obliged to thee!  tion.
But hush!'                  Greg. So much the better,'tis a sign that it
Enter HELLEBORE.                operates.
Hel. Are not you the great doctor just come to    Sir J. Who is that gentleman, pray, with you?
this town, famous for curing dumbness!          Greg. An apothecary, Sir. Mr. Apothecary,
Greg. Sir, I am he.                        I desire you would immediately apply the remedy
Hel. Then, Sir, I should be glad of your ad- I prescribed.
vice.                                           Sir J. A song, doctor? prescribe a song!
Greg. Let me feel your pulse.                Greg. Prescribe a song, Sir! yes, Sir, prescribe
Hel. Not for myself, good doctor; I am myself, a song, Sir. Is there any thing so'strange in that''Sir, a brother of the faculty, what the world calls did you never hear of pills to purge melancholy?
a mad doctor. I have at present under-my care, If. you understand these things better than I, why
a patient whom I can by no means prevail with did you send for me? sbud! Sir, this song would
to speak.'                   -    make a a stone speak. But, if:you. please, Sir,
Greg. I shall make him'speak, Sir.'   you and I will confer at some distance during the
Hel. It will add, Sir, to the great reputationyou  application; for this song will do you as much
have already acquired: 1 am happy in finding you. harm as it will do your daughter good. Be sure,
Greg.: Sir, I am as happy in finding you. You Mr. Apothecary, to pour it down her ears very
see that woman there; she is possessed of a more closely.
strange sort of madness, and imagines every one             Air.-LEANDER.
she sees to be her husband'. Now, Sir, if you       Thus, lovely patient, Charlolle sees
will but admit her into your house-                  Her dying patient kneel;
Hel. Most willingly, Sir.                        Soon cured will be yaurfeign'd disease
Greg The first thing, Sir, you are to do, is to  But what physician e'er can ease
let out thirty ounces of her blood: then, Sir, you   The torments which I feel.
are to shave off all her hair, all her hair, Sir; after  Think, skilful nymph, while I complain,
which you are to make a very severe use of your      Ah! think what I endure!
rod twice a day; and take a particular care that   All other remedies are vain;
she have not the least allowance beyond bread' The lovely cause of all my pain
and water.                                           Can only cause my. cure.
Hel. Sir, I shall readily agree to the dictates of    Greg. It is, Sir, a great and subtle question
so great a man; nor can I help approving of your among the doctors, whether the women are more
method, which is exceeding mild and wholesome. easy to be cured than men. I beg that you would
Greg. [ To his wfife.] My dear, that gentleman attend to this, Sir, if you please.-Some say,
will conduct you to my ohdging.- Sir, I beg no;, others say, yes; and for my part, I say both
you will take a particular care of the lady.  yes, and no;- forasmuch as the incongruity of the
Hel. You may depend on't, Sir, nothing in my opaque humours that meet in the natural temper
power shall be wanting; you have only to in- of women, are the cause that the brutal part will
quire for Dr. Hellebore.                     always prevail over the sensible-one sees that
Dor.'Twon't be long before I see you, husband. the inequality of their opinions depends on the
Hel. Husband! this' is as unaccountable a black movement of the circle of the moon; andl as
madness as any I have yet met with.          the sun that darts its rays upon the- concavity of
[Exit with DORcAs.  the earth, finds-.




eCEN III.]                   THE MOCK DOCTOR.                                       707
Char. No, I am not at all capable of changing  walk in the garden, be sure lose no time; to the
my opinion.                                  remedy, quick, to the remedy specific.Sir J. My daughter speaks! my daughter                [Exeunt LEANDER and CHARLOTTE.
speaks! Oh,.the great power of physic! oh the    Sir J. What drugs,: Sir, were those I heard
admirable physician! How can I reward thee for you mention, for I don't remember I ever heard
such a service?                              them spoken of before!
Greg. This distemper has given me a most in-   Greg. They, are some, Sir, lately discovered
sufferable deal of trouble.                   by the Royal Society.
[Traversing the stage in a great heat,: the    Sir J. Did you ever see any thing equal to her
apothecary following.              insolence?.
Char. Yes, Sir, I have recovered my speech;    Greg. Daughters are indeed sometimes a little
but I have recovered it to tell you, that I never too head-strong.
will have any husband but Leander.              Sir J. You cannot imagine, Sir, how foolishly
[Speaks with great eagerness, and drives fond she is of that Leander.
SIR JASPER round the stage.          Greg. The heat of blood, Sir, causes that in
Sir J. But                                 young minds.
Char. Nothing is capable to shake:the resolu-   Sir J. For my part, the moment I discovered
tion I have taken.                            the violence of her passion, I have always kept`Sir J. What!                              her locked up.
Char. Your rhetoric is in vain; all your dis-   Greg. You have done very wisely.
courses signify nothing.                        Sir J. And I have prevented them from having
Sir J. I.- the least communication together; for who knows
Char. I am determined, and all the fathers in what might have been the consequence? who
the world shall never oblige me to marry contrary  knows but she might have taken it into her head,
to my inclination.                            to have run away with him.
Sir J. I have                                 Greg. Very true.
Char. 1 never will submit to this tyranny; and    Sir J. Ay, Sir, let me alone for governing girls;
if I must not have the man I like, I'll die a maid. I think I have some reason to be vain on that
Sir J. You shall have Mr. Dapper-          head; I think I have shown the world, that I
Char. No, not in any manner, not in the least, understand a little of women, I think I have; and
not at all; you throw away your breath. you lose let me tell you, Sir, there is not a little art requiryour time; you may confine me, beat me, bruise ed; if this girl had had some fathers, they had
me, destroy me, kill me, do what you will, but 1 ne- not kept her out of the hands of so vigilant a
ver will consent; nor all your threats, nor all your lover as I have done.
blows, nor all your ill-usage, never shall force me to    Greg. No certainly, Sir.
consent; so far from giving him my heart, I never
will give him my hand; for he is my aversion, I
hate the very sight of him, I had rather see the    Dor. Where is this villain, this rogue, this
devil, I had rather touch a toad; you may make pretended physician?
me miserable any other way, but with him you    Sir J. Heyday! What, what, what's the matsha'n't, that I'm resolved.                  ter now?
Greg. There, Sir, there,. I think we have   Dor. Oh sirrah! sirrah! would you have desbrought her tongue to a pretty tolerable consis- troyed your wife, you villain? would you have
tency.                                        been guilty of murder, dog!
Sir J. Consistency, quotha! why, there is no    Greg. Hoity, toity! What mad woman is this?
stopping her tongue.-Dear doctor, I desire you    Sir J. Poor wretch! for pity's sake cure her,
will mate her dumb again.                    doctor.
Greg. That's impossible, Sir; all that I can    Greg. Sir, I shall not cure her, unless somebodo to serve you is, I can make you deaf if you dy gives me a fee. If you will give me a fee,
please.                                      Sir Jasper, you shall see me cure her this instant.
Sir J. And do you think-                     Dor. I'll fee you, you villain. Cure me!
Char. All your reasoning shall never conquer
my resolution.                                               Enter JAMES.
Sir J. You shall marry Mr. Dapper, this   Jam. Oh, Sir! undone, undone! your daughter
evening.                                     is run away with her lover, Leander, who was
Char. I'll be buried first.                here disguised like an apothecary-and this is the
Greg. Stay, Sir, stay, let me regulate this rogue of a physician, who has contrived all the
affair; it is a distemper that possesses her, and I affair.
know what remedy to apply to it.                Sir J. How! am I abused in this manner?
Sir J. Is it possible, Sir, that you can cure the Here, who is there? Bid my clerk bring pen, ink,
distempers of the mind?                     and paper; I'll send this fellow to jail immediGreg. Sir, I can cure any thing. Harkye, Mr. ately.
Apothecary, you see that the love she has for Le-   Jam. Indeed, my good doctor, you stand a very
ander is entirely contrary to the will of her father, fair chance to be hanged for stealing an heiress.
and that there is no time to lose, and that an    Greg. Yes, indeed, I believe 1 shall take my
immediate remedy is necessary: for my part, I degrees now.
know of but one, which is a dose of purgative   Dor. And are they going to hang you, my
running-away, mixt with two drachms of pills dear husband?
matrimoniac, and three large handfuls of the arbor   Greg. You see, my dear wife.
vitre; perhaps she will make some difficulty to   Dor. Had you finished the faggots, it had. been
ake them; but, as you are an able apothecary, I some consolation.
Shall trust to you for the success; go, make her   Greg. Leave me, or you'll break my heart.




708                      THE MOCK DOCTOR.                                      [ACT II.
Dor. No, I'll stay to encourage you at your   Lean. Faith, doctor, I wish I could do that in
death; nor will I budge an inch, till I've seen you' return for your having made me an apothecary;
hanged.                                      but I'll do as well for thee, I warrant.
Enter LEANDER and CHARLOTTE.             Dor. So, so, our physician, I find, has brought
Lean. Behold, Sir, that Leander, whom you about fine matters. And is it not owing to me,
had forbid your house, restores your daughter to sirrah, that you have been a physician at all'
your power, even when he had her in his. I have    Sir J. May I beg to know whether you are a
received letters, by which I have learnt the death physician or not, or what the devil you are  c
of an uncle, whose estate far exceeds that of your   Greg. I think, Sir, after the miraculous cure
intended son-in-law,                         you have seen me perform, you have no reason to
Sir J. Sir, your virtue is beyond all estates, and ask, whether I am a physician or no. And for
I give you my daughter with all the pleasure in you, wife, I'll henceforth have you behave with
the world.                                   all deference to my greatness; for a faggot-maker
Lean. Now my fortune makes me happy in- can only thrash your jacket, but a physician,
deed, my dearest Charlotte. And, doctor, I'll he  --
make thy fortune too.                          Dor. Can pick your pocket. Why, thou puffGreg. If you would be so kind to make me a ed up fool! I could have made as ood a physician
physician in barnest, I should desire no other for- myself; the cure was owing to the apothecary,
tune.                                        not the doctor.                    [Exeunt.




THE MOURNING BRIDE:
A TRAGEDY,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY WILLIAM CONGREVE, EsQ.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
MANUEL, the King of Granada,               ALMERIA, the Princess of Granada.
GONSALEZ, his Favourite,                   ZARA, a Captive Queen.
GARCIA, Son to Gonsalez.                   LEONORA, chief Attendant on the Primess.
PEREZ, Captain of the Guards.
ALONZO, an Officer, Creature to Gonsalez.    Women, Eunuchs, and Mutes, attending Zara,
OSMYN, a noble Prisoner.                                    Guards, &c.
HELI, a Prisoner, his Friend.
SELIM, a Eunich.                                         SCENE.-Granada.
PROLOGUE.                     For that damn'd poet's spar'd, who damns a
brother,
THE time has been when plays were not so As one thief'scapes that executes another.
plenty,                              Thus far alone does to the wits relate;
And a less number, new, would well content ye.  But from the rest we hope a better fate.
New plays did then like almanacks appear,    To please, and move, has been our poet's theme,
And one was thought sufficient for a year:   Art may direct, but nature is his aim;
Though they are more like almanacks of late;    And nature miss'd, in vain he boasts his art,
For in one year, I think, they're out of date.  For only nature can affect the heart.
Nor were they, without reason, joined together;  Then freely judge the scenes that shall ensue;
For just as one prognosticates the weather,  But as with freedom, judge with candour too.
How plentiful the crop, or scarce the grain,  He would not lose, through  prejudice, his
What peals of thunder, or what showers of            cause;
rain;                               Nor would obtain, precariously, applause.
So t'other can foretell, by certain rules,  Impartial censure he requests from all,
What crops of coxcombs, or what floods of fools.  Prepar'd by just decrees to stand or fall.
In such like prophecies were poets skill'd,
Which now they find in their own tribe fulfill'd.
The dearth of wit thev did so long presage,
Is fallen on us, and alimost starves the stage.                ACT I.
Were you not griev'd, as often as you saw
Poor actors thrash such empty sheafs of straw?      SCEIVE 1.-A Room of State.
Toiling and labouring at their lungs' expense,
To start a jest, or force a little sense 1   The Curtain rising slowly to soft Music, discovers
Hard fate for us, still harder in the event:   ALMERIA in Mourning, LEONORA waiting in
Our authors sin, but we alone repent.          Mourning.
Still they proceed, and, at our charge, write
worse; *After the Music, ALMERIA risesfrom her Chais,'Twere some, amends, if they could reimburse;             and comesforward.
But there's the devil, though their cause is lost,    Almeria. Music has charms to sooth a savage
There's no recovering damages or cost.              breast,
Good wits, forgive this liberty we take,     To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.
Since custom gives the losers leave to speak.  I've read, that things inanimate have mov'd,
But, if provok'd, your dreadful wrath remains,   And, as with living souls, have been inform'd
Take your revenge upon the coming scenes:    By magic numbers and persuasive sound.
60                                                      70y'




710                     THE MOURNING BRIDE.                                    [ACT'I.
What then am I? Am I more senseless grown  No, I will live to be thy monument:
Than trees or flint?  0, force of constant wo,    The cruel ocean is no more thy tomb:'Tis not in harmony to calm my griefs.       But in my heart thou art interr'd; there, there,
Anselmo sleeps, and is at peace; last night  Thy dear resemblance is for ever fix'd;
The silent tomb receiv'd the good old king;  My love, my lord, my husband still, though lost.
He and his sorrows now are safely lodg'd       Leon. Husband! Oh, Heavens!
Within its cold, but hospitable bosom.         Alm. Alas!. what have I said 1
Why am not I at peace.                      My grief has hurried me beyond all thought.
Leon. Dear Madam, cease,                   I would have kept that secret; though 1 know
Or moderate your grief; there is no cause-.   Thy love and faith to me deserve all confidence.
Alm. No cause! Peace, peace! there is eternal But-'tis the wretch's comfort still to have
cause,                              Some small reserve of near and inward wo,
And misery eternal will succeed.             Some unsuspected hoard of darling grief,
Thou canst not tell-thou hast indeed no cause.  Which they unseen may wail, and weep, and
Leon. Believe me, Madam, I lament Anselmo,         mourn,
And always did compassionate his fortune;    And, glutton-like, alone devour.
Have often wept, to see how cruelly            Leon. Indeed,
Your father kept in chains his fellow-king: -  -.I knew not this. 
And oft, at night, when all have been retir'd,  Alm. Oh, no,-thou know'st not half
Have stolen front bed, and to his prison crept;    Know'st nothing of my sorrows-if thou didstWhere, while his gaoler slept, I through the  If I should tell thee, wouldst thou pity me?
grate                                Tell me-.-I know thou wouldst; thou art comHave softly whisper'd, and inquir'd his health;      passionate.
Sent in my sighs and pray'rs for his deliverance;   Leon. Witness these tears
For sighs and pray'rs were all that I could offer.' Ani. I thank thee, LeonoraAlm. Indeed thou hast a soft and gentle Indeed I do, for pitying thysad mistress:
nature,                              For'tis, alas! the poor prerogative
That thus could melt to see. a stranger's wrongs;  Of greatness, to be wretched, and unpitiedOh, Leonora, hadst thou known Anselmo,       But I did promise 1 would tell thee —What?
How would thy heart have bled to see his suf- My miseries! Thou dost already know'em:
ferings!                            And when I told thee thou didst nothing know,
Thou hadst no cause but general compassion.    It was because thou didst not:know Alphonse:
Leon. Love of my royal mistress gave me For to have known my loss, thou must have
cause,                                       known
My love of you begot my grief for him;       His worth, his truth, and tenderness of love.
For I heard that when the chance of war        Leon. The memory of that brave prince stands
Had bless'd Anselmo's arms with victory,             fair
And-the rich spoil-of all the: field, and you,  In all reportThe glory of the whole, were made the prey   And 1 have heard imperfectly his loss;
Of his success; that then, in spite -of hate,  But, fearful to renew your troubles past,
Revenge, and that hereditary feud  I never did presume to ask the story.
Between Valentia's and Granada's kings,        Alm. If for my swelling heart I can, I'll tell
He did endear himself to your affection,             thee.
By all the worthy and indulgent ways         I was a welcome captive in Valentia,
His most industrious goodness could invent;-  E'en on the day when Manuel,-my father,
Proposing, by a match between Alphonso       Led on his conquering troops high as the gates
His-s.om, the brave Valentian prince, and you,    Of king Anselmo's palace;: which, in rage,
To end the long dissension, and unite        And heat of war, and dire revenge. he fir'd.
The jarring crowns.:                    The good king, flying to avoid the flames,
Aim. Alphonso! O, Alphonso!                Started amidst his foes, and made captivity
Thou too art quiet-long hast been at peace-    His fatal refuge-Would that I had fallen
Both, both-father and son are now no more.:   Amidst those flames-but'twas'not so decreed.
Then why am I? Oh,.when shall I have rest   Alphonso, who foresaw: my father's cruelty,
Why do I live to say you are no more?       Had borne the queen and me on -board a ship
Why are all these things thus?-Is it of force?  Ready to sail; and when this news was brought
Is there. necessity I must be miserable?'We put to sea; but being betray'd-by some
Is it of moment to the peace of Heaven,      Who knew our flight, we closely were pursu'd,
That I should be afflicted thus?-If not,    And almost taken, when a sudden storm
Why is it thus contriv'd? Why are things laid  Drove us, and those that follow'd on- the coast
By some unseen hand, so, as of sure conse- Of Afric: there our vessel struck the shore
quence,;   -                        And bulging'gainst a rock, was dash'd in pieces;
They must to me bring curses,:grief:of heart,    But Heaven spar'd me for yet much more afflicThe last distress of life, and sure despair   tion.:
Leon. Alas! you search too far, and think too  Conducting them; who follow'd us, to shun
deeply.                              The shore, and save me floating on the waves,
Ala. Why was I carried to Anselmo's court?   While the good queen and my Alphonso perish'd.
Or there, why was I used so tenderly?         Leon. Alas! were you then wedded to AlWhy not ill treated like an enemy?                  phonso?.
For so my father would have used his child.    Alm. That day, that fatal day, our hands were
Oh, Alphonso, Alphonso! -                            join'd.
Devouring seas have wash'd thee from my sight.  For when my lord beheld the ship pursuiing,
No time shall raze thee from. my memory;     And saw her rate so far exceeding' ours,




SCENE I.]               THE MOURNING BRIDE.                                         711
DHe came to me, and begg'd me by my love,    Nor violence-I feel myself more light,
I would consent the priest should make us one;  And more at large, since I: have made this vow.
That whether death or victory ensued         Perhaps I would repeat it there more solemnly.
I might be his, beyond the power of fate;.'Tis that, or some such melancholy thought,
The queen too did assist his suit-I granted;  Upon my word, no more.
And in one day was wedded and a widow.         Leon. I will attend you.
Leon. Indeed'twas mournfulAim.'Twas as I have told thee       -              V     Enter ALONZO.
For which I mourn, and will for ever mourn;                             comes to tell your
Nor will I change these black and dismal robes,       highness
Or ever dry these swoln and watery eyes;     The king is just arr
Or ever taste content or peace of heart,       Aim. Conduct him in.
While I have life, and thought of my Alphonso.  That's his pretence; his errand is, I know,
Leon. Look' down, good Heaven, with pity on To fill my ears with Garcia's valiant deeds;
her sorrows,                         And gild.and magnify his son's exploits.
And grant that time may bring her-some relief.   And gild ad magnify his son's exploits.
Aim. Oh, no! time gives increase to my afflic- But I am arm'd with ice around my heart,
BE~rhe    Oti~ofi, nons. -           Not to be warm'd with words, or idle eloquence.
The circling hours, that gather all: the woeser GOEZ.
Which are diffus'd through the revolving year,
Come heavy laden with th' oppressive weight     Gon. Be -every day of your long life like this.
Tro me; with me, successively, they leave.   The sun, bright conquest, and your brighter eyes,
The sighs, the tears, the groans, the restless Elave all conspir'd to blaze promiscuous light,
cares,                               And bless this day with most unequall'd:lustre.
And all the damps of grief, that did retard their Your royal father,. my victorious lord,flight::                             Loaden with spoils, and ever-living:laurel,
They shake their downy wings, and scatter all  Is entering now, in martial pomp,;the palace,
The dire collected dews on my poor head;:.-:   Five hundred mules precede his solemn march:
Then fly with joy and swiftness from me:  Which groan beneath the weight of' Moorish
Lean; Hark!           [Sh outs at a distance.       wealth.:
The distant shouts proclaim your father's triumph. Chariots of'war, adorn'd with glittering gems,
0 cease, for Heaven's sake, assuage a little  Succeed; and next, a hundred neighing steeds;
This torrent of your grief. for this, I fear, -  White as the fleecy rain on. Alpine hills,'Twill urge his wrath, to see you drown'd in That bound and foam, and champ the golden bit,
tears,                               As they disdain'd the victory they grace.
When joy appears in every other face.        Prisoners of war, in shining fetters follow:
Alm. And joy he brings to every other heart,  And captains of the noblest blood of Afric
But double, double weight of wo to mine:     Sweat by his chariot wheel, and lick and grind,
For with' him Garcia comes-Garcia, to whom    With: gnashing teeth, the dust his triumphs raiseI must be sacrific'd, and all the vows       The swarming populace spread every-wall, -
I gave my dear Alphonso basely broken.       And cling, as if with claws they'did enforce  
No, it shall never be; for I will die        Their hold; through clifted stones stretching and
First, die ten thousand deaths-Look down, look        staring,
down,                                As if they were all eyes, and every limb
Alphonso, hear the sacred vow I make; [Kneels. Would feed its faculty with admiration:
One moment, cease to gaze on perfect bliss,  While you alone retire, and shun this sight;
And bend thy glorious eyes to earth and me.  This sight, which. is- indeed, not seen-, (though
And thou, Anselmo, if yet thou art arriv'd,'         twice
Through all-impediments of purging fire,     The multitude should gaze) in absence of your'ro that bright Heaven, where my Alphonso             eyes.
reigns,                                Alm. My lord, my eyes ungratefully behold
Behold thou also, and attend my vow.         The gilded trophies of exterior honours.:
If ever I do yield, or give.consent,        Nor will my ears be charmed with sounding words;
By any action, word, or thought, to wed      Or. pompous phrase, the pageantry of souls.
Another lord; may then just Heaven shower But that my father is return'd in safety,
down                                 I bend to Heaven-with thanks.::
Unheard of curses on me, greater far   -      -Gon. Excellent princess!(If such there be in angry HIeaven's vengeance) - But'tis a task unfit for my weak age
That any. I have yet endur'd-And now  -      With dying words to. offer at your praise.
[Rising. Garcia, my son, your beauty's lowest slave,
My heart has some relief; having so well     R  Has better done, in proving with his sword
Discharg'd this debt, incumbent on my love.'    The force and influence:ofyour matchless charms.
Yet, one thing more I would engage from thee.  Alm. I doubt not of the worth of Garcia's
Leon. My heart, my life, and will, are only         deeds,
yours.                               Which had been brave though I had ne'er been
Alm. I thank thee.'Tis but this, anon:            born.
when all                               Leon. Madam,. the king.         [Fourish
Are wrapp'd and busied in the general joy,     Alm. My women. I would meet: him.
Thou wilt withdraw, and privately with me         [Attendants to ALMERIA enter in'mowrning.
Steal forth, to visit good Anselmo's tomb.
Leon. Alas! I fear some fatal resolution.'  Symphony of warlike Music. Enter the KIN:,
41Aim. No. on my life, my'faith, I mean noill,    attended by GARCIA and'several -Officers.:E.FIe.




712                     THE MOURNING BRIDE.                                    JAcTL
of Prisoners in chains, and Guards, who are To-day. Retire; divest yourself with speed
ranged in order round the Stage. ALMERIA  Of that offensive black; on me be all
meets the KING, and kneels: afterwards GON- The violation of your vow; for you,
SALEZ kneels, and kisses the KING'S hand, while It shall be your excuse, that I command it.
GARCIA does the same to the PRINCESS.        Gar. [Kneeling.] Your pardon, Sir, if 1 presume so far,
King. Almeria, rise-My best Gonsalez, rise. As to remind you of your gracious promise.
What, tears! my good old friend-              King. Rise, Garcia.-I forgot. Yet stay, AlGon. But tears of joy.                             meria.
Believe me, Sir, to see you thus, has fill'd  Alm. My boding heart!-What is your pleaMine eyes with more delight than they can hold.      sure, Sir 
KIing. By Heaven, thou lov'st me, and I'm   lKing. Draw near, and give your hand, and,
pleas'd thou dost;                           Garcia, yours:
Take it for thanks, old man, that I rejoice  Receive this lord, as one whom I have found
To see thee weep on this occasion-Some       Worthy to be your husband, and my son.
Here are, who seem to mourn at our success!    Gar. Thus let me kneel to take —O, not to
Why is't, Almeria, that you meet our eyes,         takeUpon this solemn day, in these sad weeds?   But to devote, and yield myself for ever
In opposition to my brightness, you          The slave and creature of my royal mistress.
And  yours are all like daughters of affliction.  Gon. O, let me prostrate pay my worthless
Alm. Forgive me, Sir, if I in this offend.         thanksThe year which I have vow'd to pay to Heaven,    King. No more; my promise long since pass'd,
In mourning and strict life for my deliverance       thy services,
From wreck and death, wants yet to be expir'd.  And Garcia's well-tried valour, all oblige me;
King. Your zeal to Heaven is great, so is your This day we triumph; but to-morrow's sun,
debt:                               Garcia, shall shine to grace thy nuptialsYet something too is due to me, who gave      Alm. Oh!                          [Fairtts.
That life, which Heaven preserv'd. A day be-   Gar. She faints! help to support her.
stow'd                                 Gon. She recovers.
In filial duty, had aton'd and given           King. A fit of bridal fear. How is't, Almeria?
A dispensation to your vow-No more!            Alm. A sudden chillness seizes on my spirits.'Twas weak and wilful-and a woman's error.   Your leave, Sir, to retire.
Yet, upon thought, it doubly wounds my sight,  King. Garcia, conduct her.
To see that sable worn upon the day,             [GARCIA leads ALMERIA to the door, and
Succeeding that, in which our deadliest foe,         returns.
Hated Anselmo, was interr'd-By Heaven,       This idle vow hangs on her woman's fears,
It looks as thou didst mourn for him: just so  I'll have a priest shall preach her from her faith,
Thy senseless vow appear'd to bear its date,  And make it sin not to renounce that vow
Not from that hour wherein thou wert preserv'd,  Which I'd have broken.  Now, what would
But that wherein the curs'd Alphonso perish'd.       Alonzo?
Ha! What  thou dost not weep to think of
that!                                             Enter ALONZO.
Gon. Have patience, royal Sir; the princess
weeps                                  Alon. Your beauteous captive, Zara, is arriv d,
To have offended you. If fate decreed,       And with a train as if she still were wife
One pointed hour should be Alphonso's loss,  To Albucacim, and the Moor had conquer'd.
And her deliverance, is she to blame?         King. It is our will she should be so attended.
King. I tell thee she's to blame, not to have Bear hence these prisoners. Garcia, which is he,
feasted                             Of whose mute valour you relate such wonders?
When my first foe was laid in earth, such                               [Prisoners led of
enmity,                                Gar. Osmyn, who led the Moorish horse;
Such detestation bears my blood to his;              but he,
My daughter should have revel'd at his death,    Great Sir, at her request, attends on Zara.
She should have made these palace walls to   King. He is your prisoner; as you please disshake,                                       pose him.
And all this high and ample roof to ring       Gar. I would oblige him, but he shuns my
With her rejoicings.  What, to mourn and             kindness;
weep!                              And with a haughty mien and stern civility,
Then, then to weep, and pray, and grieve! by Dumbly declines all offers. If he speak,
Heaven!'Tis scarce above a word; as he were born
There's not a slave, a shackl'd slave of mine,    Alone to do, and did disdain to talk;
But should have smil'd that hour, through all his At least to talk where he must not command.
care,                                 King. Such sullenness, and in a man so brave,
And shook his chains in transport and rude har- Must have some other cause than his captivity.
mony.                               Did Zara, then, request he might attend her?
Gon. What she has done, was in excess of   Gar. My lord, she did.
goodness;.                King. That, join'd with his behaviour,
Betray'd'by too much piety, to seem          Begets a doubt. I'd have'em watch'd; perhaps
As if she had offended.-Sure, no more.       Her chains hang heavier on him than his own.
King. To seem is to commit, at this conjuncture.                               Enter ALONZO, ZARA, and OSMYN bound, conI wo'not have a seeming sorrow seen            ducted by PEREZ and a guard, attended by




eESNE I.]               THE MOURNING BRIDE.                                       713
SELIM and several mutes and eunuchs in a    Gon. That friend might be herself; seem not
train.                                             to heed
His arrogant reply: she looks concern'd.
Ting. What welcome, and what honours, beau-   King. I'll have inquiry made; perhaps his
teous Zara,                                  friend
A king and conqueror can give, are yours:    Yet lives, and is a prisoner. His name!
A conqueror indeed where you are won;          Zar. Heli.
Who with such lustre strike admiring eyes,     King. Garcia, that search shall be your care:
That had our pomp been with your presence It shall be mine to pay devotion here;
grac'd,                             At this fair shrine to lay my laurels down
Th' expecting crowd had been deceiv'd; and And raise love's altar on the spoils of war.
seen                                Conquest and triumphs, now, are mine no more;
The monarch enter not triumphant, but        Nor will I victory in camps adore:
In pleasing triumph led; your beauty's slave.    For, lingering there, in long suspense she stands,
Zar. If I on any terms could condescend    Shifting the prize in unresolving hands;
To like captivity, or think those honours,   Unus'd to wait, I broke through her delay,
Which conquerors in courtesy bestow,         Fix'd her by force, and snatch'd the doubtful day,
Of equal value with unborrow'd rule         Now late I find that war is but her sport;
And native right to arbitrary sway,          In love the goddess keeps her awful court,
I might be pleased, when I behold this train  Fickle in fields, unsteadily she flies,
With usual homage wait: but when I feel      But rules with settl'd sway in Zara's eyes. [Exit.
These bonds, I look with loathing on myself,
And scorn vile slavery, though doubly hid
Beneath mock praises, and dissembled state.
King. Those bonds!'Twas my command you  SCENE I.-Representing the aisle of a Temple.
should be free.
How durst you, Perez, disobey                           GARCIA, HELI, PEREZ.
Perez. Great Sir,                            Gar. This way we're told, Osmyn was seen to
Your order was, she should not wait your triumph,    walk;
But at some distance follow, thus attended.  Choosing this lonely mansion of the dead,
King.'Tis false;'twas more; I bid she should To mourn, brave Heli, thy mistaken fate.
be free;                              reli. Let Heaven with thunder to the centre
If not in words, I bid it by my eyes.                strike me,
Her eyes did more than bid-   Free her and If to arise in very deed from death,
hers                                And to revisit, with my long-clos'd eyes,
With  speed-yet stay-my hands alone can This living light, could to my soul or sense
make                                Afford a thought, or show a glimpse of joy,
Fit restitution here-Thus I release you.     In least proportion to the vast delight
And by releasing you, enslave myself.        I feel, to hear of Osmyn's name; to hear
Zar. Such favours, so conferr'd, though when  That Osmyn lives, and I again shall see him.
unsought,                              Gar. I've heard, with admiration of your friendDeserve acknowledgment from noble minds.             ship.
Such thanks, as one hating to be obliged-      Per. Yonder, my lord, behold the noble Moor.
Yet hating more ingratitude, can pay,          Heli. Where?  Where?
I offer.                                       Gar. I saw him not, nor any like himKing. Born to excel, and to command!       Per. I saw him when I spoke, thwarting my
As by transcendent beauty to attract                 view,
All eyes, so, by pre-eminence of soul,      And striding with distemper'd haste; his eyes
To rule all hearts.                         Seem'd flame, and flash'd upon me with a glance
Garcia, what's he, who with contracted brow,    Then forward shot their fires, which he pursu'd
[Beholding OSMYN as they unbind him. As to some object frightful, yet not fear'd.
And sullen port, glooms downwards with his   Gar. Let's haste to follow him, and know the
eyes;                                       cause.
At once regardless of his chains, or liberty?  Heli. My lord, let me intreat you to forbear:
Gar. That, Sir, is he of whom I spoke; that's Leave me alone, to find and cure the cause.
Osmyn.                              I know his melancholy, and such starts
King. He answers well the character you gave Are usual to his temper. It might raise him
him.                                To act some violence upon himself.
Whence comes it, valiant Osmyn, that a man    So to be caught in an unguarded hour,
So great in arms as thou art said to be,     And when his soul gives all her passion way,
So hardly can endure captivity,              Secure and loose in friendly solitude.
The common chance of war?                    I  know his noble heart would burst with shame,
Osm. Because captivity                    To be surpriz'd by strangers in its frailty.
Has robb'd me of a dear and just revenge.      Gar. Go, generous Heli, and relieve your friend.
IKing. I understand not that.              Far be it from me officiously to pry
Osm. I would not have you.                Or press upon the privacies of others. [Exit HELtI.
Zar. That gallant Moor in battle lost a friend, Perez, the king expects from our return
Whom more than life he lov'd; and the regret   To have his jealousy confirm'd or clear'd,
Of not revenging on his foes that loss,      Of that appearing love which Zara bears
Has caus'd this melancholy and despair.      To Osmyn; but some other opportunity
King. She does excuse him;'tis as I suspected. Must make that plain.
[  To GONS.   Per. To me'twas long since plain,
Vot,, I....4X      60*




714                      THE MOURNING BRIDE.                                      LACT r.
And every look from him and her confirms it.    And long oppress'd with woes and bending cares,
Gar. It so, unhappiness attends their love,  May lay the burden down, and sink in slumbers
And I could pity'em. I hear some coming.      Of peace eternal. Death, grim death, will fold
The friends, perhaps are met; let us avoid'em.   Me in his leaden arms, and press me close
[Exeunt. To his cold, clayey breast: my father then
Will cease his tyranny; and Garcia too
Enter ALMERIA and LEONORA.             Will fly my pale deformity with loathing.
My soul, enlarg'd from its vile honds, will mount
Aim. It was a fancied noise, for all is hush'd.   And range the starry orbs, and milky ways,
Leon  It bore the accent of a human voice.   Of that refulgent world, where I shall swim
Aim. It was thy fear, or else some transient In liquid light, and float on seas of bliss
wind                                  To my Alphonso's soul.  Oh, joy too great!
Whistling through hollows of this vaulted aisle.  Oh, ecstasy of thought I Help me, Anselmo:
We'll listen ---                               Help me, -Alphonso; take me, reach thy hand;
Leon. Hark!                                  To thee, to thee I call, to thee, Alphonso:
Alm. No, all is hush'd, and still as death-'tis Oh, Alphonso!
dreadful!
How reverendis the face of this tall pile,            OSMYN ascendingfrom the tomb.
Whose ancient'pillars rear their marble heads,
Osm. Who calls that wretched thing that was
To bear aloft its arch'd and ponderous roof,
By its own weight made steadfast and immoveable,Alphonso 
Looking tranquillity.  It strikes an awe
And terror on my aching sight; the tombs               port me!
Osm. Whence is that voice, whose shrillness,
And monumental caves of death look cold,                 he        that voice, whose shriness
And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart,           from the grave,
Give me thy hand, and let me hear thy voice;
Nay, quickly speak to me, and let me hear      Alphonso, 
Thy voice-my own affrights me with its echoes.   Alm. Mercy!  Providence!  Oh, speak,
Leon. Let us return; the horror of this place   Speak to it quickly, quickly; speak to me,
And silence will incus   reasturn; te horror meof tlancholy.  Comfort me, help me, hold me, hide me, hide me,
And silence will increase your melancholy.    Leonora, in thy bosm, from the light,
Alm. It may my fears, but cannot add to that.
No, I will on; show me Anselmo's tomb,         And from my eyes.
Osm. Amazement and illusion!
Lead me o'er bones and skulls and moulldering
Leadmeo   bones and skulls and mouldering  Rivet and nail me where I stand, ye powers,
~~~~~~~earth)~~~                                            ~ [Comingforward.
Of human bodies; for I'll mix with them,       That motionless, I may be still deceiv'd.
Or wind me in the shroud of some pale corse    Let me not stir, nor breathe, lest I dissolve
Yet green in earth, rather than be the bride   That tender, lovely form of painted air,
Of Garcia's more detested bed: that thought    So like Almeria. Ha! it sinks, it falls;
Exerts my spirits;* and my present fears       I'll catch it ere it goes, and grasp -her shade.
Are lost in dread of greater ill. Then show me,
Le ad me, for I am boldf greater grownill.  Then show me,'Tis life!'tis warm!'tis she,'tis she herself!
WhLead me m for I am bolder grown: lead on     Nor dead, nor shade, but breathing and alive!
WVhere I may kneel, and pay my vows again      It is Almeria'tis my wife
It is Almeria,'tis my wifet
To him, to Heaven, and my Alphonso's soul.
Leon. I go, but Heaven can tell with what re-                Enter HELL
gret.                       [Exeunt.
Leon. Alas! she stirs not yet, nor lifts her eyes;
Enter HELI.                   He too is fainting-Help me, help me, stranger.
wander through this maze o monuments,  hoe'er thou art, and lend thy hand to raise
I wander through this maze of monuments,
Yet cannot find him-Hark! sure'tis the voice
Heli. Ha!'tis he! and with Almeria!
Of one complaining —There it sounds-I'! follow 
*it.                          r       Oh, miracle of happiness! Oh, joy.  [Exit.  Unhop'd for! does Almeria live!
Osm. Where is she 1
S oEN oE I      M.-Opening, discovers a place of Let me behold, and touch her, and be sure
Tombs: onthe rMonument fronting the view'Tis she; show me her face, and let me feel
greater tharn the rest,                      Her lips with mine'Tis she, I'm not deceiv'd
1 taste her breath, I warm'd her, and am warm'd.
Enter ALMERIA and LEONORA.
Look up, Almeria, bless me with thy eyes;
Leon. Behold the sacred vault, within whose Look on- thy love, thy lover, and thy husband.
womb                                    Alm. I've sworn I'll not wed Garcia: why d'ye
The poor remains of good Anselmo rest,                 force me.
Yet fresh and unconsum'd by time or worms:    Is this a father 
What do I see? Oh, Heaven! either my eyes      Osm. Look on thy Alphonso.
Are false, or still the marble door remains    Thy father is not here, my love, nor Garcia:
Unclos'd; the iron gates, that lead to death   Nor am I what I seem, but thy Alphonso.
Beneath, are still wide stretch'd upon their hinge, Wilt thou not know me 1 Hast thou then forgot
And staring on us with unfolded leaves.                me?
Alm. Sure'tis the friendly yawn of death for Hast thou thy eyes, yet canst not see Alphonso?
me;                                   Am I so alter'd, or art thou so chang'd,
And that dumb mouth, significant in show,      That seeing my disguise thou seest not me?
Invites me to the bed, where I alone   [weary    Alt. It is, it is Alphonso;'tis his face,
Shall rest; shows me the grave, where nature, His voice, I know him now, I know him all.




,tENE IX.]                THE MOURNING BRIDE.                                         715
Oh, take me to thy arms, and bear me' henCe' Some recompence of love and matchless truth.:'Back to the bottom of the -boundless deep,':    Alm.'Tis more than recompence'to see thy
To seas beneath, where thou so long hast dwelt.         face.
Oh, how hast thou return'd   How hast thou  If Heaven is greater joy, it is no happiness, 
charm'd                               For'tis not to be borne-What shall I say?
The wildness of the waves and rocks to this:-:.    I have a thousand things to know and ask,
That thus relenting they have given thee back.  And speak —That thou art here beyond all hope,
To earth, to light and life,: to love and me. --:All thought; and all: at once thou art before me;:
Osm. Oh, lll not'ask, nor' answerhiow or. why  Annd withfiuch suddenness hast hit my sight,
We both have backward trod the paths':f fate,:    Is such surprise, such mystery, such ecstacy,'
To meet again in life: to know I have thee''' It hurries all my soul, and stuns my sense. 
Is knowing more than any circumstance,:       Sure from thy father's tomb thou didst arise?
Or means -by which 1 have thee-':  Osm. I did;; and thou, my love, didst- call-me;To fold thee thus, to press thy balmy lips,             thou.. 
And gaze upon thy eyes, is so much joy,:       Almo. True; -but how cam'stthouthere? Wert
f have not leisure to reflect, or know,                 thou alone.
Or trifle timein thinking.                       Osm. I was, and lying on my father's leadi
Alm. Stay a while  -                         When broken echoes of a distant voice
Let me look on thee yet a little more.         Disturb'd the sacred silence of the vault,
Osm. -What wouldst thou? thou dost put me In murmurs roundmy head. I rose and listen'd
from thee.                            And thought I' heard thy spirit call Alphonso;
Alnm. Yes.-                                  I thought I saw thee too; but; oh,-I thought not
Osm. And why? -What dost thou mean. Why-'That I indeed should be so bless'd' tosee thee —'.:
dost thou gaze so?.  Aim. But still how cam'st thou thither?.: Htow
Almr. I know not;'tis to see thy face, I think- -    thus?    Ha2
It is too much; too much to'bear and live!   -   What's he, who like thyself, is started here
To see thee thus again is such profusion       Ere seen?.:
Of joy, of bliss-''I cannot bear.-~I must':-  Osm. Where? Ha! What do I see, Antonio!
Be mad —I cannot be transported thus.          I'm fortunate indeed   -my friend too safes!- 
Osm. Thou'' excellence,:thou joy, thou heaven    leli. Most happily, in finding you thus bless'd.
of love!                               Alm. More miracles! -Antonio too, escap'd!
Alm. Where hast thou been? and how art thou    Osm. And twice escap'd; both from the rage
alive 2                                        of seas
How is all this?  All-powerful Heaven,.whatare  And war: for- in the fight I saw him fall.;
we.....Heli. But fell unhurt, a prisoner as yourself,
Oh, my strain'd heart —let me again behold thee,:And as yourself made free; hither I came,
For I weep to see thee-Art thou not paler?.   Impatiently to seek you, where I knew
Much,:much; how thou art chang'd! -           Your grief would lead you to lament Anselmo.
Osm. -Not in my love.                          Osm. There are no wonders, or else all is wonAlm. No, no, thy griefs, T know, have done this       der.
to thee.                           H      el. I saw you on the ground, and rais'd you up,
Thou hast wept much, Alphonso; and, I fear,    When with astonishment I saw Almeria.
Too much, too tenderly lamented me.              Osm. I saw her too, and therefore'saw not thee.
Osm. Wrong not my love, to say too tenderly.   Alm. Nor I; norcould I, for my eyes were yours.
No more, my life; talk not' of tears or grief;   Osm. What means the bounty of all-gracious
Affliction is no more, now thou art found.'           Heaven,
Why dost thouweep, and-hold thee from my arms, That persevering still, with open hand,
My arnis which ache to -hold thee fast; and gr6w  It scatters good, as in a waste of mercy?
To thee with twining? Come, come to my heart. Where will this end?. But Heaven is infinite~
Aim.; I will, for' I should'inever Iook ienotugh'.:  In all, and can continue to bestow,
They would have married me; but I had sworn  When scanty number shall be spent in telling.
To" Heaven' and thee, and sooner'would -have   Leon. Or I'm deceiv'd, or I beheld the glimpse
died —                                Of two in shining habits cross the aisle;  -
Osm. Perfection of all faithfulness and'love!-   Who by:their pointing seem to mark this place.
Alim. Indeed 1 would'Nay: Iwould' tell thee   Alm. Sure I have dreamt, if we must part so
all,                                           soon.
If I could speak'how I have mourn'i'd and pray'd!-   Osm. I wish at least our parting were a dream;
For I have pray'd to thee, as to a saint;- *   Or we could sleep'till we again were met.:
And thou hast heard rmypray'r; for thouartcome    Heli.. Zara with Selim,-Sir, I-saw  and know
To my distress,' to my despair, which Heaven:           em:
Could only, by restoring thee, have cured.     You -must be quick, for love' will lend her wings.
Osm. Grant me but life, good Heaven, but   Alm. What love? Who is she? Why are you
length of days,                                alarm'd?
To pay some part, some little ofthis debt,        Osm.'She's the reverse of thee-; she's my unThis countless sum of tenderness and love,-            happiness.
For which I stand engag'd to this all excellence: Harbour no thought that may disturb thy peace
Then bear me in a whirlwind to my fate,        But'gently-take thyself away, lest she
Snatch me from life, and cut me short unwarn'd: Should come, and see the straining cf my eyes
Then, then,'twill be enough-I shall be old,. - To-follow thee.
I shall have pass'd all eras then              Retire, my love, I'll think how we may meet
Of yet u'nmeasur'd time; when I have made   -To part no more; my friend will tell thee all;
This exquisite, this most amazing goodn             Iescap'd, how-I an here-, and thus;




716                    THE MOURNING BRIDE.                                    [ACT u.
How I'm not call'd Alphonso now, but Osmyn;  I come to mourn with thee, to share thy griefs,
And he Heli. All, all, he will unfold,       And give thee, for'em, in exchange, my love.
Ere next we meet-                              Osm. Oh, that's the greatest grief-I am so
Alm. Sure we shall meet again-                     poor,
Osm. We shall; we part not but to meet I have not wherewithal to give again.
again.                                Zar. Thou hast a heart, though'tis a savage
Gladness and warmth of ever kindling love            one;
Dwell with thee, and revive thy heart in absence. Give it me as it is; I ask no more
[Exeunt ALMERIA, LEONORA, and HELI. For all I've done, and all I have endur'd:
Yet I behold her-yet-and now no more.       For saving thee, when I beheld thee first,
Turn your lights inward, eyes, and view my  Driven by the tide upon my country's coast,
thoughts,                           Pale and expiring, drench'd in briny waves,
So shall you still behold her-'twill not be.  Thou and thy friend, till my compassion found
Oh, impotence of sight! Mechanic sense!             thee;
Which to exterior objects ow'st thy faculty,  Compassion! scarce will't own that name, so
Not seeing of election, but necessity.               soon,
Thus do our eyes, as do all common mirrors,  So quickly was it love; for thou wert godlike
Successively reflect succeeding images:     Even then.  Kneeling on earth, I loos'd my
Not what they would, but must; a star, or toad;      hair,
Just as the hand of chance administers.      And with it dried thy watery cheeks, then
Not so the mind, whose undetermin'd view             chaf'd
Revolves, and to the present adds the past;  Thy temples, till reviving blood arose,
Essaying farther to futurity;               And, like the morn, vermilion'd o'er thy face.
But that in vain. I have Almeria here       Oh, Heaven! how did my heart rejoice and
At once, as I before have seen her often-            ache,
When I heheld the day-break of thy eyes,
Enter ZARA and SELIM.             And felt the balm of thy respiring lips!
Osm. Oh, call not to my mind what you have
Zar. See where he stands, folded and fix'd to      done,
earth,                              It sets a debt of that account before me,
Stiffening in thought, a statue among statues.   Which shows me poor and bankrupt even in
Why, cruel Osmyn, dost thou fly me thus?             hopes.
Is it well done 1 Is this then the return      Zar. The faithful Selim, and my women,
For fame, for honour, and for empire lost.        know
But what is loss of honour, fame, and empire?   The danger which I tempted to conceal you.
Is this the recompence reserv'd for love.    You know how I abus'd the credulous king;
Why dost thou leave my eyes, and fly my What arts I used to make you pass on him,
arms,                               When he received you as the prince of Fez;
To find this place of horror and obscurity?  And as my kinsman, honour'd and advanc'd
Am I more loathsome to thee than the grave,          you.
That thou dost seek.to shield thee there, and Oh, why do I relate what I have done?
shun                                What did I not? Was't not for you this war
My love?. But to the grave I'll follow thee-  Commenc'd? not knowing who you were, nor
HIe looks not, minds not, hears not! barbarous       why
man!                                You hated Manuel, I urg'd my husband
Am I neglected thus? Am I despis'd?        To this invasion: where he late was lost,
Not heard! Ungrateful Osmyn!                Where all is lost, and I am made a slave.
Osm. Ha!'tis Zara!                         *Osm. You pierce my soul-I own it all-But
Zar. Yes, traitor; Zara, lost, abandon'd Zara,     while.
Is a regardless suppliant now, to Osmyn.     The power is Wanting to repay such benefits,
The slave, the wretch that she redeem'd from'Tis treble anguish to a generous heart.
death,                                Zar. Repay me with thy heart- What! dost
Disdains to listen now, or look on Zara.             thou start?
Osm. Far be the guilt of such reproaches from  Make no reply! Is this thy gratitude?
me;                                 Look on me now, from empire fallen to slavery;
Lost in myself, and blinded by my thoughts,  Think on my sufferings first, then look on me;
I saw you not till now.                     Think on the cause of all, then view thyself:
Zar. Now then you see me-                 Reflect on Osmyn, and then look on Zara,
But with such dumb and thankless eyes you look, The fallen, the lost. and now the captive Zara,
Better I was unseen, than seen thus coldly.  And now abandon'd-Say, what then is OsOsm. What would you from a wretch who             myn?
came to mourn,                        Osm. A fatal wretch-A  huge, stupendous
And only for his sorrows choose this solitude.      ruin,
Look round; joy is not here, nor cheerfulness,   That tumbling on its prop, crush'd all beneath,
You have pursu'd misfortune to its dwelling,  And bore contiguous palaces to earth.
Yet look for gaiety and gladness there.       Zar. Yet thus, thus fallen, thus levell'd with
Za7. Inhuman! Why, why dost thou rack me           the vilest,
thus?                              If I have gain'd thy love,'tis glorious ruin;
And with perverseness, from the purpose, an- Ruin!'tis still to reign and to be more
swer ~.
* The lines printed in Italics are not in the original,
What is't to me, this house of,lsery.     but are now given to the reader as delivered in the IeWhat joy do I require? if thou dost mourn,  presentation at Drury-lane theatre.




8CENE I.]               THE MOURNING BRIDE.                                       717
A queen; for what are riches, empire, power,'Tis daring for a god. Hence to the wheel
But larger means to gratify the will?       With that Ixion, who aspires to hold
The steps on which we tread, to rise and reach   Divinity embraced; to whips and prisons
Our wish; and that obtain'd, down with the Drag him with speed, and rid me of his face.
scaffolding                                     [Guards seize OSMYN, and exeunt.
Of sceptres, crowns, and thrones: they've serv'd    Zar. Compassion led me to bemoan his state,
their end,                          Whose former faith had merited much more:
And art, like lumber, to be left and scorn'd.  And through my hopes in you I undertook
Osm. Why was I made the instrument to He should be set at large; thence sprung his inthrow                                        solence,
In bonds the frame of this exalted mind?  And what was charity he construed love.
Zar. We may be free; the conqueror is  lKing. Enough; his punishment be what you
mine;                                        please.
In chains unseen I hold him by the heart,    But let me lead you from this place of sorrow,
And can unwind and strain him as I please.   To one where young delights attend, and joys
Give me thy love, I'll give thee liberty.    Yet new, unborn, and blooming in the bud,
Osm. In vain you offer, and in vain require    Which wait to be full-blown at your approach,
What neither can bestow. Set free yourself,    And spread, like roses, in the morning sun;
And leave a slave the wretch that would be so.   Where every hour shall roll in circling joys,
Zar. Thou canst not mean so poorly as thou  And love shall wing the tedious-wasting day.
talk'st.                            Life, without love, is load; and time stands still:
Osm. Alas! you know me not.               What we refuse to him, to death we give;
Zar. Not who thou art:                    And then, then only, when we love, we live.
But what this last ingratitude declares,                                       [Exeunt.
This grovelling baseness-Thou say'st true, I
know                                                 ACT III.
Thee not; for what thou art yet wants a name;
But something so unworthy and so vile,.                SCENE I.-A Prison.
That to have lov'd thee makes me yet more lost,
Than all the malice of my other fate.                   OSMYN with a Paper.
Traitor, monster, cold, and perfidious slave;
A slave not daring to be free! nor dares      Osm. But now, and I was closed within the tomb
To love above him; for'tis dangerous.       That holds my father's ashes; and but now,'Tis that I know; for thou dost look, with eyes  Where he was prisoner, I am too imprison'd.
Sparkling desire, and trembling to possess.  Sure'tis the hand of Heaven that leads me thus
I know my charms have reach'd thy very soul,    And for some purpose points out these rememAnd thrill'd thee through with darted fires; but     brances.
thou                                In a dark corner of my cell I found
Dost fear so much, thou dar'st not wish. The  This paper; what it is this light will show.
king!                              If my Alphonso —Ha!           4  [Reading.
There, there's the dreadful sound, the king's thy  If my Alphonso live, restore him, Heaven;
rival!                              Give me more weight, crush my declining years,
Sel. Madam, the king is here, and entering  With bolts, with chains, imprisonment and want;
now.                                But bless my son, visit not him for me.
Zar. As I could wish: by Heaven, I'll be re- It is his hand; this was his prayer —yet more:
veng'd.                             Let every hair, which sorrow by the roots
[Reading.
Enter the KING, PEREZ, and Attendants.    Tearsfrom my hoary and devoted head,
Be doubled in thy mercies to my son:
King. Why does the fairest of her kind with- Not for myself, but him, hear me all-graciousdraw'Tis wanting what should follow-Heaven
Her shining from the day, to gild this scene         should follow,
Of death and night  Ha!  what disorder's this? But'tis torn off-Why should that word alone
Somewhat I heard of king and rival mention'd.   Be torn from this petition?'Twas to Heaven,
What's he that dares be rival to the king,   But Heaven was deaf, Heaven heard him not;
Or lift his eyes to like where I adore?              but thus,
Zar. There, he, your prisoner, and that was Thus as the name of Heaven from this is torn,
my slave,                           So did it tear the ears of mercy from
King. How! better than my hopes! Does she His voice, shutting the gates of prayer againsthim.
accuse him?                [Aside. If piety be thus debarr'd access
Zar. Am I become so low by my captivity,    On high, and of good men the very best
And do your arms so lessen what they conquer,  Is singled out to bleed, and bear the scourge,
That Zara must be made the sport of slaves?  What is reward? Or what is punishment?
And shall the wretch, whom yester sun beheld    But who shall dare to tax eternal justice!
Waiting my nod, the creature of my power,    Yet I may think-I may, I must; for thought
Presume to-day to plead audacious love,      Precedes the will to think, and error lives
And build bold hopes on my dejected fate?   Ere reason can be born. Reason, the power
King. Better for him to tempt the rage of  To guess at right and wrong, the twinkling lamp
Heaven,                             Of wandering life, that winks and wakes by turns,
And wrench the bolt red hissing from the hand   Fooling the followers, betwixt shade and shining
Of him that thunders, than but to think that in- What noise! Who's there?  My friend 2 How
solence.                                     cam'st thou hither?




'~71i8                  THE'.H EM-   O U RNI NG- BRI DE.                       LACT II.
Enter HEL.  -  With speed and safety.to convey myself,
Where not far off some malcontents hold council
Heli. The time's too, precious to. be spent in Nightly, who hate this tyrant; some, who love
telling.                             Anselmo's memory, and will, for certain,
The captain, influenc'd by Almeria's power,  When they shall know you live, assist your cause.
Gave order to the guards for my admittance.;. Osm. My friend andcounsellor, as thou think'st
Osm. How does Almeria?'But I know she is         fit,
As I am.- Tell me, may I hope to see her'?   So do. I will, with patience, wait my fortune.
Heli. You may.. Anon, at midnight, when the.  Helli. When Zara comes, abate of your aversion.
king                                   Osm. I hate her not, nor can dissemble love:
Is gone to rest, and Garcia is retired,      But as I may I'lldo. I have a paper
(Who takes the privilege to visit late,-.   Which: I would show thee, friend, but that the
Presuming on a bridegroom's right) she'll come.       sight
Osm.. She'll come;'tis what I wish, yet what Would hold thee here, and clog thy expedition.
I fear.                              Within I found it; by my father's hand
She'll. come; but whither, and to whom? Oh.'Twas writ; a prayer for me, wherein appears
Heaven,                              Paternal love prevailing o'er his sorrows;
To a vile prison, and a captiv'd wretch;.  Such sanctity, such tenderness, so mix'd
To one, whom had she never known, she had    With grief, as would draw tears from inhumanity.
Been happy. Why, why was that heavenly crea-   Heli. The care of providence sure left it there,
ture                                 To arm your mind with hope. Such piety
Abandon'd o'er to love what Heaven forsakes'   Was never heard in vain. Heaven has in store
Why does she follow. with unwearied steps,   For you those blessings it withheld from him.
One;; who has tired misfortune with pursuing?   In that assurance live; which time, I hope,
One driv'n about the world, like blasted leaves,   And our next meeting will confirm.
And chaff; the sport of adverse winds; till late,  Osm. Farewell,
At length imprison'd in some cleft of rock,  My friend; the good thou dost deserve, attend
On earth it rests, and rots, to silent dust.         thee.                    [Exit HELi.
Heli. Have hopes, and hear the voice of better I've been to blame, and question'd with impiety
fate..               The care of Heaven. Not so my father bore
I've learn'd there are disorders ripe for mutiny    More anxious grief.  This should.have better
Among the troops, who thought to share the            taught me;
plunder,                             This lesson, in some hour of inspiration
Which Manuel to his own use and avarice      By him set down, when his pure thoughts were
Converts.  This news has reach'd Valentia's           borne,
frontiers,                           Like fumes of sacred incense o'er the clouds,
WVhere many of your subjects, long oppress'd  And wafted thence on angels' wings, through
-With tyranny, and grievous impositions,              ways
Are risen in arms, and call for chiefs to head  Of light, to the bright Source of all. For there
And lead therA to regain their rights and liberty.  He in the book of prescience saw this day;
Osm. By Heavens thou'ast roused me from my And waking to the world and mortal sense,
lethargy.                            Left this example of his resignation,
The spirit which was deaf to my own wrongs,   This his last legacy to me; which, here,
And the loud cries of my dead father's blood,    I'll treasure as more worth than diadems,
Deaf to revenge-nay, which refus'd to hear   Or all extended rule of regal power.
The piercing sighs and murmurs of my love
Yet unenioy'd; what not Almeria could                     Enter ZARA, veiled.
Revive or raise, my people's voice has waken'd.
Heli. Our posture of affairs, and scanty time,  Osm. What brightness breaks upon me thus
My lord, require you should compose yourself.         through shades,
Osm. Oh, my Antonio, I am all on'.fire;    And promises a day to this dark dwelling?
My soul is up in arms, ready to charge       Is it my love'2And bear'amidst the foe with conquering troops.    Zar. Oh, that thy heart had taught
I hear'em call to lead'em on to liberty,    Thy tongue that saying!     [ LLifting her veil
To victory, their shouts and clamours rend      Osm. Zara! I am betray'd
M/y ears, and reach the heavens. Where is the  By my surprise.
king?                                 Zar. What! does my face displease thee?
Where is Alphonso'?' Ha! where? where indeed! That, having seen it, thou dost turn thy eyes
Oh, I could tear and burst the strings of life,  Away, as from deformity and horror?
To break these chains. Off, off, ye stains of If so, this sable curtain shall again
royalty;                             Be drawn, and I will stand before thee, seeing,
Off, slavery. Oh, curse! that I alone        And unseen. Is it my love? Ask again
Can beat and flutter in my cage, when I       That question; speak again in that soft voice;
Would soar andi stoop at victory beneath.    And look again with wishes in thy eyes.
Heli. Abate this ardour, Sir, or we.are lost.   Oh, no! thou canst not, for thou seest me now
Our posture of affairs and scanty time,      As she whose savage breast has been the cause
My lord,. require you should compose yourself,    Of these thy wrongs; as she whose barbarous
And think on what we may reduce to practice.          rage
Zara, the cause of your restraint, may be    Has loaded thee with chains and galling irons.
The means of liberty restor'd. That gain'd,  Well dost thou scorn me, and upbraid my falseOccasion will not fail to point out ways              ness,
For your escape. Mean time, I've thought already Could one who lov'd thus torture whom she lov'd'!




tCENEL]                ~.'THE -MOURN-IN G iBR ID]E.                                719
No,; no, it'rmust be hatred,~ dire revenge, -  -:BBut she has passions which outstrip the wind,
And detestation, that could use thee thus.    And tear her virtues up, as tempests root
So dost thou think; then do but tell me so;   The sea. I fear, when she shall know. the truth,
Tell me, and thou shalt see how I'll revenge  Some swift and dire event of her blind rage
SThee on this false one, how- I'll stab and tear  Will make all fatal. But-behold, she comes
This heart of flint,'till it shall bleed; and thou   For whom I fear, to shield me from my fears,
Shalt weep for mine, forgetting thy own miseries. The cause and -comfort of my boding heart.
Osm. You wrong me, beauteous Zara, to believe. Enter ALMERIA.
I bear my fortunes with so low a mind,
As still to meditate revenge on all           My life, my health, my liberty, my all!
Whom chance, or fate, working by secret causes, How shall I welcome thee to this sad place?
Has made, perforce, subservient to that end   How speak to thee the words of joy and: transport?
The heavenly powers allot me; no, not you,    How run into thy arms, withheld by fetters;
But destiny and inauspicious stars            Or take thee into mine, while I'm thus manacled
Have cast me down to this low being. Or       And pinion'd like a thief or murderer?
Granting you had, from you I have deserved it.   Shall I not hurt and bruise thy tender body,
Zar. Canst thou forgive me, then? wilt thou And stain thy bosom with the rust, of these
believe'               Rude irons.'i Must I meet thee thus, Almeria.
So kindly of my fault, to call it madness?     Alm. Thus, thus; we parted, thus to meet
Oh, give that madness yet a milder name,               again.
And call it passion!i then be still more kind,  Thou told'st me thou wouldst think how we might
And call that passion love.                            meet
Osm. Give it a name,                        To part no more-Now we will part no more;
Or being, as you please, such I will think it.  For these thy chains, or death, shall join us ever
Zar. Oh, thou dost wound me more with thisi Osm. Hard means to ratify that word!-Oh
thy goodness,                                 cruelty!
Than e'er thou couldst with. bitterest reproaches? That ever I should think beholding thee
Thy anger could not pierce thus! to my heart.    A torture!-Yet such is the bleeding anguish
Osm. Yet I could wish                       Of my heart, to see thy sufferings-Oh, Heaven!
Zcar. Haste me to know it; what'l            That 1 could almost turn my eyes away,
Osm. That at this time I had not been this Or wish thee from my sight.
thing.                                  Alm. Oh, say not so!
Zar. What thing?                           Though'tis because thou lov'st me. Do not say,
Osm. This slave.                            On any terms, that thou dost wish me from thee.
Zar. Oh Heaven! my fears interpret          No, no,'tis better thus, that we together
This thy silence; somewhat of high concern,   Feed on each other's heart, devour our woes
Long fashioning within thy labouring mind,    With mutual appetite; and mingling in
And now just ripe for birth, my rage has ruin'd; One cup the common stream of both our eyes,
Have I done this?  Tell me, am I so curs'd. Dring bitter draughts, with never slaking thirst;
Osm. Time may have still one fated hour to  Thus better; than for any cause to part.
come,                                 What dost thou think? Look not so tenderly
Which, wing'd with liberty, might overtake    Upon me-speak, and take me in thy armsOccasion past.                                Thou canst not; thy poor arms are bound, and
Zar. Swift as occasion, I                           strive
Myself will fly; and earlier than the morn,   In vain with the remorseless chains, which gnaw
Wake thee to freedom. Now'tis late; and yet  And eat into thy flesh, festering thy limbs
Some news, few minutes past, arriv'd,. which  With rankling rust.
seem'd                                  Osm. Oh.! Oh- 
To shake the temper of the king-Who knows       Alm. Give me that sigh.
What racking cares disease a monarch's bed 2    Why dost thou heave, and stifle in thy griefs 2
Or love, that late at night still lights his lamp,    Thy heart will burst, thy eyes look red and start;
And strikes' his rays through dusk and folded lids, Give thy soul way, and tell me thy dark thought.
Forbidding rest, may stretch his eyes awake,    Osm. For this world's rule, I would not wound
And force their balls abroad at this dead hour.        thy breast
I'll try.                                     With such a dagger as then struck my heart.
Osm. I have not'merited this grace;           Alm. Why  why  To know it, cannot wound
Nor,- should my secret purpose take effect,            me more
Can I repay, as you require, such benefits.'Than knowing thou hast felt it. Tell it me,
Zar. Thou canst not owe me more, nor have -Thou.giv'st me pain with too much tenderness.
I more                                  Osm. A-nd thy excessive love distracts my
To give, than I have already lost.: But now,           sense.
So does the form of our engagements rest,     Oh, wouldst thou be less killing, soft, or kind
Thou hast the wrong till I redeem thee hence;   Grief could not double thus his arts against me.
That done, I leave thy justice to return; Alm. Thou dost me-wrong, and grief -too robs
My love.  Adieu.                      [Exit.           my heart,
Osm. This woman has'a soul                 If there he shoot not every other shaft
Of godlike mould, intrepid and commanding,   - Thy second self should feel each. other wound,
And challenges, in spite of me, my best       And wo should be in equal portions dealt.
Esteem; to this, she's fair, few more can boast   I am thy wifeOf personal charms, or with less vanity          Osem. -Oh, thou hast search'd too deep:
Mignt: hope to captivate the hearts of kings;  There, there I bleed; there pull the cruel cords,




-X720                K:TTHE MOURNING BRI DE.                                  [ACT II.
That strain my cracking nerves; engines and And grovel with gash'd haimus to scratch a grave,
wheels,                             Stripping my nails to tear this pavement up,
That piece-meal grind, are beds of down and balm  And bury me alive.
To that soul-racking thought.                  Alm. Heart-breaking horror!
Alm. Then I am curs'd                        Osm. Then Garcia shall lie panting on thy
Indeed, if that he so! if I'm thy torment,          bosom,
Kill me, then, kill me, dash me with thy chains,  Luxurious, revelling amidst thy charms;
Tread on me: What, am I the bosom-snake    And thou perforce must yield, and aid his trans.
That sucks thy warm life-blood, and gnaws thy        port.
heart I. Hell! Hell! have I not cause to rage and rave2
Oh, that thy words had force to break those bonds, What are all racks, and wheels, and whips to this?
As they have strength to tear this heart in sunder; Are they not soothing softness, sinking ease,
So should'st thou be at large from all oppression.  And wafting air to this. Oh, my Almeria!
Am I, am I of all thy woes the worst?       What do the damn'd endure, but to despair,
Osm. My all of bliss, my everlasting life,  But knowing Heaven, to know it lost for ever?
Soul of my soul, and end of all my wishes,    Alm. Oh, I am struck; thy words are bolts of
Why dost thou thus unman me with thy words,         ice,
And melt me down to mingle with thy weepings? Which, shot into my breast, now melt and chill me.
Why dost thou askS Why dost thou talk thus I chatter, shake, and faint with thrilling fears.
piercingly?                        No, hold me not-Oh, let us not support,
Thy sorrows have disturb'd thy peace of mind,   But sink each other, deeper yet, down, down,
And thou dost speak of miseries impossible.  Where level'd low, no more we'll lift our eyes,
Alm. Didst not thou say that racks and wheels But prone, and dumb, rot the firm face of earth
were balm                           With rivers of incessant scalding rain.
And beds of ease, to thinking me thy wife?
Osm. No, no; nor should the subtlest pains       Enter ZARA, PEREZ, and SELIM.
that hell
Or hell-born malice can invent, extort        Zar. Somewhat of weight to me requires his
A wish or thought from me to have thee other.       freedom.
But thou wilt know what harrows up my heart:  Dare you dispute the king's command? Behold
Thou art my wife-nay, thou art: yet my The royal signet.
bride?-                              Per. I obey; yet beg.
The sacred union of connubial love          Your majesty one moment to defer
Yet unaccomplish'd: his mysterious rites    Your entering, till the princess is return'd
Delay'd; nor has our hymeneal torch ~       From visiting the noble prisoner.
Yet lighted up his last most grateful sacrifice;  Zar. Ha!
But dash'd with rain from eyes, and swal'd with What say'st thou?
sighs,                                Osm. We are lost! undone! discover'd!
Burns dim, and glimmers with expiring light.    Retire, my life, with speed-Alas, we're seen!
is this dark cell a temple for that god?   Speak of compassion, let her hear you speak
)r this vile earth an altar for such offerings?  Of interceding for me with the king;
This den for slaves, this dungeon damp'd with Say somewhat quickly to conceal our loves,
woes;                               If possibleis this our marriage bed  are these our joys?  Alm. -I cannot speak.
Is this to call thee mine? Oh, hold, my heart!  Osm. Let me
To call thee mine? Yes; thus, even thus to call Conduct you forth, as not perceiving her,
Thee mine, were comfort, joy, extremest ecstasy. But till she's gone; then bless me thus again.
But, oh, thou art not mine, not e'en in misery;  Zar. Trembling and weeping as he leads hbr
And'tis denied to me to be so bless'd              forth!
As to be wretched with thee.                Confusion in his face, and. grief in hers!
Alm. No; not that'Tis plain I've been abus'd-Death and destrueTh' extremest malice of our fate can hinder:         tion!
That still is left us, and on that we'll feed,  How shall I search into this mystery.
As on the leavings of calamity.             The bluest blast of pestilential air
There we will feast and smile on past distress,   Strike, damp, deaden her charms, and kill his
And hug, in scorn of it, our mutual ruin.            eyes;
Osm. Oh, thou dost talk, my love, as one re- Perdition catch'em both, and ruin part'em!
solv'd,                               Osm. This charity to one unknown, and thus
Because not knowing danger. But look forward;           [Aloud to ALMERIA as she goes out.
Think of to-morrow, when thou shalt be torn  Distress'd Heaven will repay; all thanks are poor.
From these weak, struggling, unextended arms:                            [Exit ALMERIA.
Think how my heart will heave, and eyes will   Zar. Damn'd, damn'd dissembler! Yet I will
strain                                      be calm,
To grasp and reach what is deny'd my hands:   Choke in my rage, and know the utmost depth
Think how the blood will start, and tears will Of this deceiver-You seem much surpris'd.
gush,                                 Osm. At your return so soon and unexpected!
To follow thee, my separating soul.           Zar. And so unwish'd, unwanted too, it seems
Think who I am, when thou shalt wed with Confusion! Yet I will contain myself.
Garcia!                             You're grown a favourite since last we parted;
I;nen will 1 smear these walls with blood, disfigure Perhaps I'm saucy and intrudingAnd dash my face, and rive my clotted hair,    Osm. -Madam! 
Break on the flinty floor my throbbing breast,  Zar. I did not know the princess' favourite.




CENSI 1.]                THE MOURNING BRIDE.                                       721
Your pardon, Sir-Mistake me not; you think  And order given for public execution.
I'm angry; you're deceiv'd. I came to set      Zar. Ha! haste thee! fly, prevent his fate and
You free; but shall return much better pleas'd,      mine,
To find you have an interest superior.       Find out the king. tell him I have of weight
Osm. You do not come to mock my miseries!  More than his crown t' impart ere Osmyn die.
Zar. I do.                                   Sel. It needs not, for the king will straight be
Osm. I could at this time spare your mirth.        here,
Zar. I know thou couldst; but I'm not often  And, as to your revenge, not his own interest,
pleas'd,                             Pretend to sacrifice the life of Osmyn.
And will indulge it now. What miseries?       Zar. What shall I say, invent, contrive, advise?
Who would not be thus happily confin'd,      Somewhat to blind the king, and save his life,
To be the care of weeping majesty;           In whom I live. Spite of my rage and pride,
To have contending queens, at dead of night,    I am a woman, and a lover still.
Forsake their down, to wake with watery eyes,   Oh!'tis more grief but to suppose his death,
And watch like tapers o'er your hours of rest?    Than still to meet the rigour of his scorn.
Oh, curse! I cannot hold                     From my despair my anger had its source;
Osm. Come,'tis too much.                  When he is dead I must despair for ever.
Zar. Villain!                              For ever! That's despair-It was distrust
Osm. How, Madam!                          Before; distrust will ever be in love,
Zar. Thou shalt die.                       And anger in distrust; both short-lived pains.
Osm. I thank you.                          But in despair, and ever-during death,
Zar. Thou liest, for now I know for whom  No term, no bound, but infinite of wo.
thou'dst live.                       Oh, torment, but to think! what then to bear?
Osm. Then you may know for whom I'd die.  Not to be borne- Devise the means to shun it,
Zar. Hell! Hell!                         Quick: or by Heaven this dagger drinks thyblood.
Yet I'll be calm-Dark and unknown betrayer!   Sel. My life is yours, nor wish I to preserve it,
But now the dawn begins, and the slow hand   But to serve you. I have already thought.
Of fate is stretch'd to draw the veil, and leave  Zar. Forgive my rage; I know thy love and
Thee bare, the naked mark of public view.            truth.
Osm. You may be still deceiv'd,'tis in my But say what's to be done, or when, or how
power-                               Shall I prevent or stop th' approaching danger 2
Chain'd as I am, toflyfrom all my wrongs,      Sel. You must still seem more resolute and
And free myself at once,from misery,                 fix'd
And you qf me.                               On Osmyn's death: too quick a change of mercy
Zar. Ha! say'st thou-but I'll prevent it-   Might breed suspicion of the cause. Advise
Who waits there? As you will answer it. look That execution may be done in private.
this slave           [ To the guard.   Zar. On what pretence?
Attempt no means to make himselfaway.          Sel. Your own request's enough.
I've been deceiv'd.  The public safety now   However, for a colour, tell him, you
Requires he should be more confin'd, and none,   Have cause to fear his guards may be corrupted,
No, not the princess, suffer'd or to see     And some of them bought off to Osmyn's in.Or speak with him. I'll quit you to the king.        terest,
Vile and ingrate! too late thou shalt repent  Who at the place of execution will
The base injustice thou hast done my love:   Attempt to force his way for an escape;
Yes, thou shalt know, spite of thy past distress,  The state of things will countenance all susAnd all those ills which thou so long hast           picions.
mourn'd;                            T'hen offer to the king to have him strangled
Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turn'd,   In secret by your mutes; and get an order,
Nor hell a fury like a woman scorn'd. [Exeunt. That none but mutes may have admittance to
him.
ACT IV.                     I can no more, the king is here. Obtain
This grant, and I'll acquaint you with the rest.
SCEN.E  1.-A Room of State.
Enter KING, GONSALEZ, and PEREZ.
ZARA and SELIM.
ZKing. Bear to the dungeon those rebellious
Zar. Thou hast already rack'd me with thy          slaves,
stay;                               Th' ignoble curs that yelp to fill the cry,
Therefore require me not to ask thee twice:  And spend their mouths in itrking tyranny.
Reply at once to all. What is concluded      But for their leaders, Sancho and kanurez,
Sel. Your accusation highly has incens'd   Let them be led away to present death.
The king, and were alone enough to urge      Perez, see' it perform'd.
The fate of Osmyn; but to that, fresh news     Gon. Might [ presume,
Is since arriv'd, of more revolted troops.   Their execution better were. Ceferr'd'Tis certain Heli, too, is fled, and with him  Till Osmyn die. Meantrune we may iearn more
(Which breeds amazement and distraction) some  Of this conspiracy.
Who bore high offices of.weight and trust,     Kiing  Then be it so.
Both in the state and army. This confirms    Stay, soldier; they shall s-ffer with'ne iteqor.
The king in full belief of all you told him  Are none return'd of those wio.! follow(l i-ieli?
Qoncerning Osmyn, and his correspondence       Gon. None, Sir. Some pape:s ha.e!.her since
With them who first began the mutiny.                discover'd
Wherefore a warrant for his death is sign'd;  In Roderigo's house, who fled with hun,
Vot. I.... 4 Y    61




722                     THE MOURNING BRIDE.                                    [ACT IV.
Which seem'd to intimate, as if Alphonso     So ripe, to point at the particular men.
Were still alive, and arming in Valentia,      King. What's to be done'?
Which wears indeed the colour of a truth:      Zar. That too I will advise.
They who are fled have that way bent their course. I have remaining in my train some mutes,
Of the same nature divers notes have been    A present once from the sultana queen,
Dispers'd t' amuse the people; whereupon     In the grand signior's court. These from their
Some, ready of belief, have rais'd this rumour:      infancy
That, being sav'd upon the coast of Afric,   Are practis'd in the trade of death; and shall
He there disclos'd himself to Albucacim,     (As there the custom is) in private strangle
And, by a secret compact made with him.      Osmyn.
Open'd and urg'd the way to this invasion;     Gon. My lord, the queen advises well.
While he himself, returning to Valentia       fKing. What offetbring, or what recompence reIn private, undertook to raise this tumult.          mains
Zar. Ha! hear'st thou that? Is Osmyn then  In me that can be worthy so great services?
Alphonso?                           To cast beneath your feet the crown you've sav'd,
Oh, Heaven! a thousand things occur at once    Though on the head that wears it, were too little.
To my remembrance now, that make it plain.     Zar. Of that hereafter: but, mean time,'tis fit
Oh, certain death for him as sure despair    You give strict charge that none may be adFor me, if it be known-If not, what hope             mitted
Have I' Yet'twere the lowest baseness now,   To see the prisoner, but such mutes as I
To yield him up-No, I will conceal him,      Shall send.
And try the force of yet more obligations.     King. Who waits there?
Gon.'Tis not impossible. Yet it may be,
That some impostor has usurp'd his name.                    Enter PEREZ.
Your beauteous captive, Zara, can inform,
If such a one, so'scaping, was receiv'd       King. On your life, take heed
At any time in Albucacim's court.            That only Zara's mutes, or such who bring
King. Pardon, fair excellence, this long neglect: Her warrant, have admittance to the Moor.
An unforeseen, unwelcome hour of business,     Zar. They, and no other, not the princess'
Has thrust between us and our while of love;         self:
But wearing now apace with ebbing sand,        Per. Your majesty shall be obey'd.
Will quickly waste and give again the day.    IKing. Retire.                [Exit PEREZ.
Zar. You're too secure; the danger is more    Gon. That interdiction so particular
imminent                            Pronounced with vehemence against the princess,
Than your high courage suffers you to see;   Should have more meaning than appears bareWhile Osmyn lives you are not safe.                  fac'd.
King. His doom                             This king is blinded by his love, and heeds
Is pass'd; if you revoke it not, he dies.    It not. [Aside.]-Your majesty might sure have
Zar.'Tis well. By what I heard upon your          spar'd
entrance                             The last restraint: you hardly can suspect
I find I can unfold what yet concerns        The princess is confederate with the Moor.
You more. One, who did call himself Alphonso,   Zar. I've heard her charity did once extend
Was cast upon my coast, as'tis reported,    So far, to visit him at his request.
And oft had private conference with the king;  Gon. Ha!
Tot what effect I knew not then: but he,       King. How! She visit Osmyn! What, my
Alphonso, secretly departed, just                    daughter 
About the time our arms embark'd for Spain.    Sel. Madam, take heed; or you have ruin'd all.
What I know more is, that a triple league                                         [Aside.
Of strictest friendship was profess'd between  Zar. And after did solicit you on his
Alphonso, Heli, and the traitor Osmy-n.      Behalf.Cfing. Public report is ratified in this.   King. Never. You have been misinform'd.
Zar. And Osmyn's death requir'd of strong    Zar. Indeed i Then'twas a whisper spread by
necessity.                                   some
King. Give orders straight, that all the prison- Who wish'd it so; a common art in courts,
ers die.                            I will retire, and instantly prepare
Zar. Forbear a moment, somewhat more I have Instruction for my ministers of death.
7'orthy your private ear, and this your minister.                 [Exit ZARA and SELIM.
King. Let all, except Gonsalez, leave the room.   Gon. There's somewhat yet of mystery in this;
[Exit PEREZ, q.c. Her words and actions are obscure and double,
Zar. 1 am your captive, and you've used ne Sometimes concur, and( sometimes disagree:
nobly;                              I like it not.                       [Aside.
And in return of that, though otherwise        King. What dost thou think, Gonsalez' our enemy, I have discover'd Osmyn,       Are we not much indebted to this fair one?I
R-is private practice and conspiracy           Gon. I am a little slow of credit, Sir,
Ag'ainst your state; and fillly to discharge  In the sincerity of women's actions..t-ivself of what I've undertaken, now      Methinks this lady's hatred to the Moor
i mink it fit to tell you, that your guards  Disquiets her too much; which makes it seem
Are tainted: some among'em have resolv'd    As if she'd rather that she did not hate him.'To rescue Osmyn at the place of death.      I wish her mutes are meant to be employ'd
King. Is treason then so near us asour guards? As she pretends-I doubt it now-Your guards
Zar. Most certain; though my knowledge is Corrupted! How? By whomrn  Who told her so
not yet                             I' th' evening Osmyn was to die; at midnight




SCENE  I.]               THE M OURNING BRIDE.                                     723
She begg'd the royal signet to release him;' What means these tears but grief unutterable?
I' th' morning he must die again; ere noon     King. They are the dumb confessions of thy
Her mutes alone must strangle him, or he'll          mind;
Escape. This, put together, suits not well.  They mean thy guilt, and say thou wert confeKing. Yet that there's truth in what she has      derate
discover'd                          With damn'd conspirators to take my life.
Is manifest from every circumstance.         Oh, impious parricide! Now canst thou speak!
This tumult, and the lords who fled with Heli,    Alm. 0 earth, behold, I kneel upon:thy bosom,
Are eoofirmation;-that Alphonso lives,      And bend my flowing eyes to stream upon
Agrees expressly too, with her report.  Thy face, imploring thee that thou wilt yield;
Gon. I grant it, Sir; and doubt not, but in rage Open thy bowels of compassion, take
Of jealousy, she has discover'd what -       Into thy womb the last and most forlorn
She now repents. It may be I'm deceiv'd.     Of all thy race. Hear me, thou common parent
But why that needless caution of the princess?':    -I have no parent else-be thou a mother, -:
What if she had seen Osmyn? Though'twere And ~step between me and the curse of him 
strange; -                          Who was-who was, but is no more a father
But if she had, what was't to her?  Unless  But brands my innocence with horrid crimes;
She fear'd her stronger charms might cause the And, for the tender names of child and daughter,
~ Moor's                             Now calls me murderer and parricide.
Affection to revolt.                           Iing. Rise, I command thee, rise,-and if
King. I thank thee, friend.                        thou wouldst
There's reason in thy doubt, and I am warn'd-  Acquit thyself of these detested: names,
But think'st thou that my daughter saw this Swear thou hast; never seen that foreign dog; -
Moor?.                             Now doom'd to die, that most accursed Osmyn.
Gon. If Osmyn be, as Zara has related,      AlmL. Never, but as with innocence I might,
Alphonso's friend,'tis not impossible       And free of all bad purposes. So Heaven's
But she might wish, on his account, to see him.  My witness.
King. Say'st thou?  By Heaven, thou hast   King. Vile, equivocating wretch'!       [its
rous'd a thought,                   With innocence!:Oh, patience! hear-she owns
That like a sudden earthquake shakes my frame. Confesses it! By Heaven, I'll have him rack'd,
Confusion! then my daughter's an accomplice,  Torn, mangled, flay'd, impal'd —all pains and
And plots in private with this hellish Moor.        tortures
Gon. That were too hard a thought-but see, That wit of man, or dire revenge can think,
she comes-                          Shall he, accumulated, underbear.'Twere not amiss to question her a little,     Alm. Oh, I am lost.-There fate begins to
And try howe'er, if I've divin'd aright.             wound.
If what I fear be true, she'll be concern'd    King. Hear -me, then: if thou canst reply;
For Osmyn's death, as he's Alphonso's friend:        know, traitress,
Urge that, to try if 1he'll solicit for him.  I'm not to learn that curs'd Alphonso lives;
Nor am I ignorant what Osmyn isEnter ALMERIA and LEONORA.             Alm. Then all is ended, and we both must die.
Since thou'rt reveal'd, alone thou shalt not:die.
King. Your coming has prevented me, Almeria; And yet alone would I have died, Heaven knows,
I had determin'd to have sent for you.      Repeated deaths, rather than have reveal'd thee.
Let your attendant be dismiss'd; I have     Yes, all my father's wounding wrath, though each
[LEON. retires. Reproach cuts deeper than the keenest sword,
To talk with you. Come near; why dost thou And cleaves my heart, I would have borne it all,
shake?                             Nay all the pains that are prepar'd for thee;
What mean those swoln and red-fleck'd eyes; that To the remorseless rack I would have given
look'     This weak and tender flesh, to have been bruis'd
As they had wept in blood, and worn the night  And torn, rather than have reveal'd thy being;.-.
In waking anguish. Why this on the day        King. Hell, hell! Do I hear: this, and yet
Which was design'd to celebrate thy nuptials;  -     endure! 
But that the beams of light are to be stain'd&  What! dar'st thou to my face avow thy guilt 1
With reeking gore, from traitors on the rack?    Hence, ere I curse-fly my just rage with speed;
Wherefore I have deferr'd the marriage-rites;    Lest! I forget us both, and spurn thee from me.Nor shall the guilty horrors of this day       Alm. And yet a father?! Think, I am your
Profane that jubilee.                                child!
Aim. All days to me                       Turn not your eyes away-look on me kneeling,
Henceforth are equal: this, the day of death,    Now curse me if you can, now spurn me off.
To-morrow, and the next, and each that follows, Did ever father curse his kneeling child?
Will undistinguish'd roll, and but prolong:  Never: for always blessings crown that posture,
One hated line of more extended wo.         Nature inclines, and half way meets that duty,
King. Whence is thy griefs Give me to-know  Stooping to raise from earth the filial reverence;
the cause;                          For bended knees returning folding arms,
And look thou answer me with truth; for know, With prayers and blessings, and paternal love.
I am not unacquainted with thy falsehood.    Oh, hear me then- thus crawling on the earthWhy art thou mute? Base and degenerate maid!   King. Be thou advis'd, and let me go, while yet
Gon. Dear Madam, speak, or you'll incense The light impression thou hast made remains.
the king.                             Alm. No, never will I rise, not lose this
Aim. What is't to speak? Or wherefore should       hold,
I speak?'Till you are mov'd and grant that he may fyive




724                    THE MOURNING BRIDE.                                    [ACT V.
King. Ha! who may live?. Take heed! no I'll catch it-Hark! a voice cries murder! ah,
more of that;                       My father's voice! hollow it sounds, and calls
For on my soul he dies, though thou and I,  Me from the tomb-I'll follow it; for there
And all should follow to partake his doom.  I shall again behold my dear Alphonso.
Away, off; let me go-Call her attendants.                [Exeunt ALMERIA and LRONORA.
[LEONORA and women return.   Gon. She's greatly griev'd; nor am 1 less sur.
Alm. Drag me; and harrow the earth with my         pris'd.
bare bosom;                         Osmyn, Alphonso! No; she over-rates
I will not go till you have spar'd my husband.    My policy; I ne'er suspected it;
King. Ha! What say'st thou! Husband! Nor now had known it, but from her mistake.
Husband! damnation!                 Her husband too! Ha! where is Garcia then'
What husband! Which? Who!  And where the crown that should descend on him,
Alm. He, he is my husband.                To grace the line of my posterity?
King. Poison and daggers! Who'  Hold, let me think-If I should tell the kingAlm. Oh-                         [Faints. Things come to this extremity: his daughter
Gon. Help, support her.                   Wedded already-What if he should yield
Aim. Let me go, let me fall, sink deep-I'll Knowing no remedy for what is past,
dig,                                And urg'd by nature pleading for his child,
I'll dig a grave and tear up death; I will;  With which he seems to be already shaken.
I'll scrape, till I collect his rotten bones,  And though I know he hates beyond the grave
And clothe their nakedness with my own flesh;  Anselmo's race; yet if-that if concludes me.
Yes, I will strip off life, and we will'change:  To doubt, when I may be assur'd, is folly.
I will be death! then, though you kill my hus- But how prevent the captive queen, who means
band,.                            To set him free?  Ay, now'tis plain. 0 well
He shall be mine still, and for ever mine.  Invented tale! IHe was Alphonso's friend.
King. What husband   Whom  dost thou  This subtle woman will amuse the king.
mean?                              If I delay-'twill do-or better so.
Gon. She raves!                          One to my wish. Alonzo, thou art welcome.
Alm. Oh, that I did. Osmyn, he is my husband.                                              Enter ALONZO.'King. Osmyn!  Alon. The king expects your lordship.
Alm. Not Osmyn, but Alphonso, is my dear     Gon.'Tis no matter.
And wedded husband-Heaven, and air, and seas, I'm not i'the way at present, good Alonzo.
Ye winds and waves, I call ye all to witness.  Alon. If't please your lordship, I'll return and
King. Wilder than winds or waves thyself           say
dost rave.                          I have not seen you.
Should I hear more, I too should catch thy mad.   Gon. Do, my best Alonzo.
ness.                               Yet stay, I would-but go; anon will serveYet somewhat she must mean of dire import,  Yet I have that requires thy speedy help.
Which I'll not hear, till I am more at peace.  I think thou wouldst not stop to do me service.
Watch her returning sense, and bring me word;   Alon. I am your creature.
And look that she attempt not on her life. [Exit.   Gon. Say, thou art my friend.
Alm. Oh, stay, yet stay; hear me, I am not I've seen thy sword do noble execution.
mad,                                  Alon. All that it can your lordship shall comrn
I would to Heaven I were-He's gone.                  mand.
Gon. Have comfort.                          Gon. Thanks; and I take thee at thy word.
Alm. Curs'd be that tongue that bids me be of      Thou'st seen,
comfort;                            Amongst the followers of the captive queen,
Curs'd my own tongue, that could not move his Dumb men, who make their meaning known by
pity;                                       signs.
Curs'd these weak hands that could not hold him    Alon. I have, my lord.
here;                                 Gon. Couldst thou procure, with speed
For he is gone to doom Alphonso's death.    And privacy, the wearing garb of one
Gon. Your too excessive grief works on your Of those, though purchas'd by his death, I'd give
fancy,                              Thee such reward, as should exceed thy wish.
And deludes your sense. Alphonso, if living,  Alon. Conclude it done. Where shall I wait
Is far from hence, beyond your father's power.      your lordship               [rgence;
Alm. Hence, thou detested, ill-timed flatterer!    Gon. At my apartment. Use thy utmost diliSource of my woes: thou and thy race be curs'd; And say I've not been seen-Haste, good Alonzo.
But doubly thou, who couldst alone have policy                            [Exit ALONZO.
And fraud to find the fatal secret out,     So, this can hardly fail. Alptionso slain,
And know that Osmyn was Alphonso.           The greatest obstacle is then remov'd.
Gon. Ha!                                  Almeria widow'd, yet again may wed;
Alm. Why dost thou start 1 What dost thou And I yet fix the crown on Garcia's head. [Exit.
see or hear?
Was it the doleful bell, tolling for death?                  ACT V.
Or dying groans from my Alphonso's breast 7
See, see, look yonder! where a grizzl'd, pale,     SCENE 1.-A Room of State.
And ghastly head glares by, all smear'd with      Enter KiNG, PEREZ, and ALONZO.
blood,
Gasping as it would:speak; and after, see,   King. Not to be found! In an ill hour he's
Behold, a damp, dead hand has dropp'd a dagger:      absent.




GscE.Yx.]               THE MOURNING BRIDE.                                        725
None, say you?  none! What, not the favourite  All nature, softness, pity, and compassion.
eunuch!                             This hour I throw ye off, and entertain
Nor she herself, nor any of her mutes,       Fell hate within my breast, revenge, and gall.
Have yet requir'd admittance?               By Heaven, I'll meet and counterwork  this
Per. None, my lord.                                treachery.
King. Is Osmyn so dispos'd as I commanded? Hark thee, villain, traitor-answer me, slave.
Per. Fast bound in double chains, and at full   Per. My service has not merited those titles.
length                                 King. Dar'st thou reply? Take that-thy
He lies supine on earth: with as much ease           service! thine!        [Strikes him.
She might remove the centre of this earth,   What's thy whole life, thy soul, thy all, to my
As loose the rivets of his bonds.            One moment's ease? Hear my command: and
King.'Tis well.                                   look
[A Mute appears, and seeing the KING, That thou obey, or horror on thy head:
retires.                             Drench me thy dagger in Alphonso's heart.
Ha! stop, and seize that mute; Alonzo, follow  Why dost thou start? Resolve, orhim.                                   Per. Sir, I will.
Entering he met my eyes, and starting back,    King.'Tis well-that when she comes to set
Frighted, and fumbling one hand in his bosom,        him free,
As to conceal th' importance of his errand.  His teeth may grin, and mock at her remorse.
[ALoNzo follows him, and returns with a                                 [PER. going.
paper.                               — Stay thee-I've farther thought-I'll add to
Alon. A bloody proof of obstinate fidelity?       this,
King. What dost thou mean?                And give her eyes yet greater disappointment:
Alon. Soon as I seiz'd the man,            When thou hast ended him, bring me his robe
He snatch'd from out his bosom this-and strove, And let the cell where she'll expect to see him
With rash and greedy haste, at once, to cram  Be darken'd, so as to amuse the sight.
The morsel down his throat. I caught his arm,  I'll be conducted thither-mark me wellAnd hardly wrench'd his hand to wring it from  There with his turban, and his robe array'd,
him:                                And laid along, as he now lies, supine,
Which done, he drew a poignard from his side,   I shall convict her, to her face, of falsehood.
And on the instant plung'd it in his breast.  When for Alphonso's she shall take my hand,
King. Remove the body thence, ere Zara see it. And breathe her sighs upon my lips for his;
-Alon. I'll be so bold to borrow his attire.  Sudden I'll start, and dash her with her guilt.'Twill quit me of my promise to Gonsalez.    But see, she comes. I'll shun th' encounter;
-  Aside. Exit.       thou
Per. Whate'er it is, the king's complexion  Follow me, and give heed to my direction.
turns.                                                                  [Exeunt.
King. How's this - My mortal foe beneath
my roof!    [Having read the letter.           Enter ZARA and SELIM.
Oh, give me patience, all ye powers! No,
rather                                 Zar. The mute not yet return'd! ha!'twas
Give me new rage, implacable revenge,                the king,
And trebled fury —Ha! who's there!         The king that parted hence! frowning he went;
Per. M.y lord.                             His eyes like meteors roll'd, then darting down
King. Hence, slave I how dar'st thou'bide to  Their red and angry beams; as if his sight
watch and pry                       Would, like the raging dog-star, tcorch the
Into how poor a. thing a king descends,              earth,
How like thyself, when passion treads him down?  And kindle ruin in its course. Dost think
Ha! stir not on thy life; for thou wert fix'd,  He saw me?
And planted here, to see me gorge this bait,   Sel. Yes; but then, as if he thought
And lash against the hook-By Heaven, you're  His eyes had err'd, he hastily recall'd
all                                 Th' imperfect look, and sternly turn'd away.
Rank traitors! thou art with the rest cornbin'd;    Zar. Shun me, when seen! I fear thou hast
Thou knew'st that Osmyn was Alphonso;                undone me.
knew'st                             Thy shallow artifice begets suspicion,
My daughter privately with him conferr'd;    And, like a cobweb veil, but thinly shades
And wert the spy and pander to their meeting.   The face of thy design; alone disguising
Per. By all that's holy, I'm amaz'd.-     What should have ne'er been seen. Imperfect
King. Thou liest.                                  mischief!
Thou art accomplice too.with Zara; here      Thou, like the adder, venomous and deaf,
Where she sets down-Still will I set thee free.  Hast stung the traveller, and after hear'st
[Reads. Not his pursuing voice; even when thou think'st
That somewhere is repeated-I have power      To hide, the rustling leaves and bended grass
O'er them that are thy guards-Mark that, thou  Confess and point the path which thou hast crept.
traitor.                            Oh, fate of fools! officious in contriving;
Per. It was your majesty's command I should  In executing, puzzled, lame, and lost.
Obey her order.                                Sel. Avert it, Heaven, that you should evei
King. [Reading.] -And still will I set             suffer
Thee free, Alphonso.-Hell! curs'd, curs'd Al- For my defect; or that the means which 1
phonso!                            Devis'd to serve, should ruin your design.
False and perfidious Zara!  Strumpet daughter! Prescience is Heaven's alone, not given to man,
Away, begone, thou feeble boy, fond love;    If I have fail'd, in what, as being man
61*




726                     THE- MOURNING BRIDE                                    [AcrT.
I needs must fail; impute not as a crime     Had enter'd long ere now, and borne down all
My nature's want, but punish nature in me;   Before'em, to the palace-walls. Unless
I plead not for a pardon and to live,        The king in person animate our men,
But to be punish'd and forgiven. - Here, strike;  Granada's lost; and to confirm this fear,
I bare my breast to meet your just revenge.  The traitor Perez, and the captive Moor,
Zar. I have not leisure now to take so poor    Are through a postern fled, and join'd the foe.
A forfeit as thy life; somewhat of high        Gon.. Would all were false as that; for whom
And more important fate requires my thought.         you call
When I've concluded on myself, if I          The Moor, is dead. That Osmyn was Alphonso;
Think fit, I'll leave thee my command to die.    In whose heart's blood this poignard yet is warm.
Regard me well, and dare not to reply          Gar. Impossible! for Osmyn was, while flying,
To what I give in charge; for I'm resolv'd.  Pronounc'd aloud by Perez for Alphonso. V
Give order that the two remaining mutes        Gon. Enter that chamber, and convince your
Attend me instantly, with each a bowl                eyes,
Of such ingredients mix'd, as will with speed  How much report has wrong'd your easy faith.
Benumb the living faculties, and give                                    [GARCIA goes is.
Most easy and inevitable death.                Alon. My lord, for certain truth, Perez is fled;
Yes, Osmyn, yes; be Osmyn or Alphonso,       And has declar'd the cause of his revolt
I'll give thee, freedom, if thou dar'st be: free:  Was to revenge a olow the king had given him.
Such liberty as I embrace myself               Gar. [Returning.] Ruin and horror! Oh,
Thou shalt partake. Since fates no more afford;      heart-wounding sight!
I can but die with thee, to keep my word. [Exeunt.   Gon. What says my son? What ruin   Ha! 
what horror?
SCENE II.-Opening, shozwcs the Prison.       C Gar. Blasted my eyes, and speechless be my
tongue,
Rather than or to see, orto relate
Enter GONSALEZ, disguised like a Mute, with a This deed-or to see, or to relate
This deed-Oh, dire mistake:! Oh, fatal blow!
Dagger.             The King!Gon. Nor centinel nor guard! the doors un-   Gon. Alon. The king!
barr'd!                               Gar. Dead, weltering, drown'd in blood.
And all as still as at the noon of night!   See, see, attir'd like Osmyn, where he lies.
Sure death already has been busy here.                                     [ They look in.
There lies my way; that door too is unlock'd.    Oh, whence, or how, or wherefore was this done?
[Looking in. But what imports the manner or the cause
Ha! sure he sleeps-all's dark within, save what Nothing remains to do, or to require,
A lamp, that feebly lifts a sickly flame,    But that we all should turn our swords against
By fits reveals-his face seems turn'd, to favour   Ourselves, and expiate with our own, his blood.
Th' attempt; 1'1 steal and do it unperceiv'd.  Gon. Oh, wretch! Oh, cursed, rash, deluded
What noise! Somebody coming? is't Alonzo?            fool!
Nobody. Sure he'll wait without-I would      On me. on me turn your avenging swords.'Twere done-I'll crawl and sting him to the I, who have spilt my royal master's blood,
heart,                              Should make atonement by a death as horrid,
Then cast my skin, and leave it there to answer it. And fall beneath the hand of my own son.
[Goes in.   Gar. Ha! what! atone this murder with a
greater!
Enter GARCIA and ALONZO.            The horror of that thought has damp'd.my rage.
The earth already groans to bear this deed;
Gar. Where, where, Alonzo, where's my fa- Oppress her not, nor think to stain her face
there where                         With more unnatural blood.  Murder my faThe king?  Confusion! all is on the rout!         ther!
All's lost, all ruin'd by surprise and treachery.   Better with this to rip up my own bowels,
Where, where is he?  Why dost thou mislead And bathe it to the hilt in far less damnable
me.                Self-murder.
Alon. M.y lord, he entered but a moment since,   Gon. Oh, my son! from the blind dotage
And could not pass me unperceiv'd-What, boa! Of a father's fondness these ills arose.
My lord! my lord! What, hoa! my lord Gon- For thee I've been ambitious, base, and bloody:
salez!                             For thee I've plung'd into this sea of sin;
Stemming the tide with only one weak hand,
Enter GoNs ALEZ, bloody.          While t'other bore the crown (to wreathe thy
brow)
Gon. Perdition choke your clamours-whence Whose weight has sunk me, ere I reach'd the
this rudeness?                             shore.
Garcia!                                       Gar. Fatal ambition! Hark! the foe is enter'd:
Gar. Perdition, slavery, and death,                                            [Shout.
A.re entering now our doors. Where is the king? The shrillness of that shout speaks them  at
What means this blood, and why this face of          hand.
horror?                            We have no time to search into the cause
Gon. No matter-give me first to know the Of this surprising and most fatal error.
cause                               What's to be done? the king's death knowA
Of these your rash and ill-timed exclamations.       would strike
Gar. The eastern gate is to the foe betray'd,   The few remaining soldiers with despair,
Who, tut for heaps of slain. that choke the passage, And make them yield to mercy of the conqueror,




SCENREI.]:TIR H D- M O U RNIN G  B R I D E.                         727
Alon. My lord, I've thought how to conceal the 1 With haggard eyes? Why are your arms across I
body.                                Your heavy and desponding heads hung down?
Require me not-to tell the means, till done,  Why is't you more than speak in these sad
Lest you forbid what you may then approve.           signs?
[ Goes in;. Shout. Give me more ample knowledge of this mourning
Gon. They shout again! Whate'er he means    [They open the scene, she perceives the body.
to do,                              Ha! prostrate! bloody! headless! Oh-I'm lost.'Twere fit the soldiers were amus'd with hopes;  Oh, Osmyn! Oh, Alphonso! Cruel fate!
And in the mean time fed with expectation    Cruel, cruel, oh, more than killing object!
To see the king in person at their head.     I came prepar'd to die, and see thee dieGar. Were it a truth, I fear'tis now too late.  Nay, came prepar'd myself to give thee deathBut I'll omit no care, nor haste; and try,   But cannot bear to find thee thus, my OsmynOr to repel their force, or bravely die.    [Exit. Oh, this accurs'd, this base, this treacherous
king!
Re-enter ALONZO.
Enter SELIM.
Gon. What hast thou done, Alonzo?
Alon. Such a deed                            Sel. I've sought in vain, for no where can the
As but an hour ago I'd not have done,                king
Though for the crown of universal empire.    Be found     -
But what are kings reduc'd to common clay      Zar. Get thee to hell, and seek him there.
Or what can wound the dead.-I've from the                                    [Stabs hem.
body                                His hellish rage had wanted means to act,
Sever'd the head, and in an obscure corner   But for thy fatal and pernicious counsel.
Dispos'd it, muffled in the mute's attire,     Se1. You thought it better then-but I'm reLeaving to view of them who enter next,              warded.
Alone the undistinguishable trunk:           The mute you sent, by some mischance was seen,
Which may be still mistaken by the guards    And forc'd to yield your letter with his life;
For Osmyn, if in seeking for the king,       I found the dead and bloody body stripp'dThey chance to find it.                      My tongue falters, and my voice fails-I sinkGon.'Twas an act of horror:               Drink not the poison-fbr Alphonso is —-- [Dies.
And of a piece with this day's dire misdeeds.  Zar. As thou art now-and I shall quickly be.
But'tis no time to ponder or repent.'Tis not that he is dead: for'twas decreed
Haste thee, Alonzo, haste thee hence with speed, We both should die. Nor is't that I survive;
To aid my son. I'll follow with the last     I have a certain remedy for that.
Reserve to reinforce his arms: at least,     But, oh, he died, unknowing in my heart.
I shall make good and shelter his retreat.   He knew I lov'd, but knew not to what height,
[Exeunt severally. Nor that I meant to fall before his eyes,
A martyr and a victim to my vows.
Enter ZARAfollowed by SELIM and -twto Mutes, Insensible of this last proof he's gone;
bearing the Bowls.              Yet fate alone can rob his mortal part
Of sense; his soul still sees and knows each purZar. Silence and solitude are every where.         pose
Through all the gloomy ways and iron doors   And fix'd event of my persisting faith.
That hither lead, nor human face nor voice   Then wherefore do I pause? give me the bowl.
Is seen or heard. A dreadful din was wont         [A Mute kneels, and gives one of the bowls.
To grate the sense, when enter'd here, from groans Hover a moment, yet, thou gentle spirit,
And howls of slaves, condemn'd; from clink of Soul of my love, and I will wait thy flight.
chains,                             This to our mutual bliss, when join'd above.
And crash of rusty bars and creeking hinges:                                    [Drinks.
And ever and anon the sight was dash'd       Oh, friendly draught, already in my heart,
With frightful faces, and the meagre looks   Cold, cold; my veins are icicles and frost.
Of grim and ghastly executioners.           I'll creep into his bosom, lay me there;
Yet more this stillness terrifies my soul,   Cover us close-or I shall chill his breast,
Than did that scene of complicated horrors.  And fright him from my arms- See, see, he slides
It may be that the cause of this my errand   Still farther from me; look he hides his face,
And purpose, being chang'd from life to death,   I cannot feel it-quite beyond my. reach,Has also wrought this chilling change of temper. Oh, now he's gone, and all is dark-  [Dies.
Or does my heart bode more?. What can it more      [ The Mutes kneel, and mourn over her.
Than death?
Let'em set down the bowls, and warn Alphonso       Enter ALMERIA and LEONORA.
That I am here-so. You return and find
[IMutes go in.   Alm. Oh, let me seek him in this horrid cell:
The king; tell him what he requir'd, I've done,  For in the tomb, or prison I alone
And wait his coming to approve the deed.     Must hope to find him.
[Exit SELIM.   Leon. Heavens! what dismal scene
Of death is this.! The eunuch Selim slain!
Enter Mutes.                    Alm. Show me; for I am come in search at
death,
Zar. What have you seen? Ha! wherefore But want a guide, for tears have dimm'd my sightstare you thus,                       Leon. Alas! a little farther, and behold
The: Mutes return and look aqfrighted. Zara all pale and dead! two frightful men,




728                     THE MOURNING BRIDE.                                    [ACT V.
Who seem the murderers, kneel weeping by;    The words of joy and peace; warm thy cold
Feeling remorse too late for what they've done.      beauties
But, oh, forbear-lift up your eyes no more;  With the new flushing ardour of my cheek;
But haste away, fly from this fatal place,  Into thy lips pour the soft trickling balm
Where miseries are multiplied; return,       Of cordial sighs, and re-inspire thy bosom
Return, and look not on; for there's a dagger   With the breath of love. Shine, awake, AL
Ready to stab the sight, and make your eyes          meria,
Rain blood-                                 Give a new birth to thy long-shaded eyes,
Alm. Oh, I foreknow, foresee that object.  Then double on the day reflected light.
Is it at last then so. Is he then dead?      Alm. Where am I 2 Heaven! what does this
What, dead at last. quite, quite, for ever dead?   dream intend?
There, there, I see him; there he lies, the blood    Alph. Oh, may'st thou never dream of less
Yet bubbling from his wounds-Oh, more than           delight,
savage!                            Nor ever wake to less substantial joys.
Had they or hearts or eyes that did this deed?  Alm. Given me again from death! Oh, all ye
Could eyes endure to guide such cruel hands?        powers,
Are not my eyes guilty alike with theirs,    Confirm this miracle! Can I believe
That thus can gaze, and yet not turn to stone?   My sight against my sight? and shall I trust.I do not weep! The springs of tears are That sense, which in one instant shows him
dried;                                       dead
And of a sudden I am calm, as if            And living?-Yes, I will; I've been abus'd
All things were well; and yet my husband's With apparitions and affrighting phantoms:
murder'd!                           This is my lord, my life, my only husband,
Yes, yes, I know to mourn! I'll sluice this heart, I have him now, and we no more will part.
The source of wo, and let the torrent loose.  My father, too, shall have compassion- Those men have left to weep! they look on   Alph. Oh, my heart's comfort,'tis not given to
me!                                          this
I hope they murder all on whom they look.    Frail life to be entirely bless'd. E'en now,
Behold me well: your bloody hands have err'd,  In this extremest joy my soul can taste,
And wrongfully have slain those innocents:   Yet I am dash'd to think that thou must weep;
I am the sacrifice design'd to bleed,        Thy father fell where he design'd my death.
And come prepar'd to yield my throat-They  Gonsalez and Alonzo, both of wounds
shake                               Expiring, have, with their last breath, confess'd
Their heads in sign of grief aind innocence!  The just decrees of Heaven, which on them.
[ They point at the bowl on the ground.      selves
And point! What mean they?   a! a cup! Has turn'd their own most bloody purposes,
Oh, well,                           Nay, I must grant,'tis fit you should be thusI understand what medicine has been here.                                     [She weeps.,
Oh, noble thirst! yet greedy, to drink all-  Let'em remove the body from her sight.
-Oh, for another draught of death-What Ill-fated Zara! Ha! a cup! Alas!
mean they?                         Thy error then is plain! but I were flint
[ They point at the other cup. Not to o'erflow in tribute to thy memory
Ha! point again!'tis there, and full, I hope.  Oh, Garcia!Thanks to the liberal hand that fill'd thee thus;  Whose virtue has renounc'd thy father's crimes,
I'll drink my glad acknowledgment-           Seest thou how just the hand of Heaven ham
Leon. Oh, hold,                                    been?
For mercy's sake, upon my knee I beg-       Let us, who through our innocence survive,
Alm. With thee the kneeling world should beg Still in the paths of honour persevere,
in vain.                            And not from past or present ills despair;
Seest thou not there?  Behold who prostrate For blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds;
lies,                               And though a late, a sure reward succeeds.
And pleads against thee; who shall then prevail?                         [Exeunt omnes.
Yet 1 will take a cold and parting leave
From his pale lips; I'll kiss him ere I drink,
Lest the rank juice should blister on my mouth,
And stain the colour of my last adieu.
Horror! a headless trunk! nor lips, nor face,               EPILOGUE.
[Coming near the body, starts, and lets
fall the cup.                                 SPOKEN BY ALMERIA.
But spouting veins, and mangled flesh! Oh, oh!
THE tragedy thus done, I am, you know,
Enter ALPHONSO, HELT, PEREZ, with GARCIA No more a princess, but in statu quo;
Prisoner.  Guards and Attendants.      And now as unconcern'd this mourning wear,
As if indeed a widow or an heir.
Alph. Away, stand off, where is she? let me I've leisure, now, to mark your several faces,
fly,                                And know each critic by his sour grimaces.
Save her from death, and snatch her to my heart. To poison plays, I see them where they sit,
Alm. Oh!                                  Scatter'd like ratsbane up and down the pit;
Alpk  Forbear! my arms alone shall hold  While others watch, like parish searchers hir'd,
her up,                             To tell of what disease the play expir'd.
Warm her to life, and wake her into gladness.   Oh, with what joy they run to spread the news
Oh, let me talk to thy reviving sense       Of a damn'd poet and departed muse!




EPILOGUE.                                       729
But if he'scape, with what regret they're seiz'd! To whose rich cargo they may make pretence,
And how  they're disappointed, when they're And fatten on the spoils of Providence:
Critics to plays for the same end resort, Lpleas'd! So critics throng to see a new play split,
That surgeons wait on trials in a court:    And thrive and prosper on the wrecks of wit.
For innocence condemn'd they've no respect,    Small hope our poet from these prospects draws;
Provided they've a body to dissect.          And therefore to the fair commends his cause.
As Sussex men, that dwell upon the shore,    Your tender hearts to mercy are inclin'd,
Look out when storms arise, and billows roar,    With whom  he hopes this play will favour
Devoutly praying, with uplifted hands,               find,
That some well-laden ship may strike the sands,  Which was an ~ffering to the sex design'd.
VOL, I,... 4 Z




THE CLA-N DESTINE MARRIAGE:
A CO IIEDY,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY GARRICK AND COLMAN.
REMARKS.
THIS comedy was pi educed at Drury-lane Theatre early in 1766, being the joint production of Garrick and the
elder Colman. It is recorded by Davies, that no dramatic piece, since the days of Beaumont and Fletcher, had
been written by two authors, in which wit, fancy, and humour, were so happily blended. The part of Lord Ogleby,
principally written by Mr. Garrick, was intended for himself; but in consequence of his increasing infirmities, it
devolved on Mr. King, who gave it that marked and brilliant originality which distinguished his acting. From
the traits of character throughout this play, may be derived much useful reflection.-The mercenary maxims and
views of Sterling, the vulgar consequence of Mrs. Heidelberg, and the meanness of Miss Sterling; are well set
off by the solicitudes of the amiable Fanny and her husband; the eccentricities of Lord Ogleby and his Swiss
non-descript; and the agreeable variety of the subordinate characters.
DRAMATIS PE RSON.IE.
DRURY LANE.                   COVENT GARDEN, 1818.
LORD OGLEBY,................Mr. Lovegrove.........           Mr. W. Farren.
SIR JOHN MELVIL.............Mr. Penley.........             Mr. Abbott.
STERLING,...................     Dowton.........              Mr. Fawcett.
LOVEWELL,................. Mr. Wallack.......                Mr. C. Kemble.
SERGEANT FLOWER,.............Mr. Carr........Mr. Claremont.
TRAVERSE,.............. Mr. Maddocks....... Mr. Brook.
TRUEMAN,.............        Mr. Fisher........Mr. Atkins.
CANTON............Mr. Wewitzer.........Mr. Farley.
BRUSH,............. Mr. Harley.....MT Jones.
MRS. HEIDELBERG,..............Mrs. Sparks.....................Mrs. Davenport,
MISS STERLING............ Mrs. Mardyn................rs. C. Kemble.
FANNY....Mrs. Edwin..................... Miss Brunton.
BETTY,............. Mrs. Davison............... Mrs. Sterling.
CHAMBERMAID,............Mrs. Scott....... Miss Green.
TRUSTY,...............Mrs. Maddocks........   Mrs. Coates.
ACT 1.                         Bet. Dear Ma'am, you may depend upon me.
There is not a more trustier creature on the face
SCENE I.-A Room in STERLING'S House.   of the earth than I am.  Though 1 say it, I am as
secret as the grave-and if it is never told till I tell
Ente N7sN, a Ti, it, it may remain untold till doomsday for Betty.
Bet. [Running in.] Ma'am! Miss Fanny!    Fan. I know you are faithful-but in our cirMa'am!                                         cumstances we cannot be too careful.
Fan. What's the matter, Betty.       Bet. Very true, Ma'am! and yet I vow and
Bet. Oh la! Ma'am! as sure as I am  alive,  protest there's more plague than pleasure with a
here is your husband-I saw him  crossing the  secret; especially if a body mayn't mention it to
court-yard in his boots.                        four or five of one's particular acquaintance.
Fan. I'm  glad to hear it.-But pray now, my    Fan. Do but keep this secret a little while
dear Betty, be cautious. Don't mention that word  longer, and then I hope you may mention it to
again on any account. You know we have agreed  any body.-Mr. Lovewell will acquaint the faminever to drop any expressions of that sort, for fear  ly with the nature of our situation as soon as pos.
of an accident.                                 sible.
730




rSCaNAe.1        THE C L A NDES T I NE: M ARRIA GE.                               731
Bet. The sooner the better, I believe; for if he   Fan. End how it will, I am resolved it shall
does not tell it, there's a little tell-tale, I know of, end soon-very soon. I would not live another
will come and tell it for him.               week in this agony of mind, to be mistress of the
Fran. Fy, Betty!                 [Blushes. universe.
Bet. Ah! you may well blush. But you're not   Love. Do not be too violent neither. Do not let
so sick, and so pale, and so wan, and so many  us disturb the joy of your sister's marriage with
qualms-                                     the tumult this matter may occasion!-I have
Fan. Have done! I shall be quite angry with brought letters from Lord Ogleby and Sir John
you.'                                 Melvil to Mr. Sterling.  They will be here this
Bet. Angry-Bless the dear puppet! I am sure evening-and I dare say within this hour.
I shall love it as much as if it was my own.-I   Fan. I am sorry for it.
meant no harm, Heaven knows.                   Love. Why sol
Fan. Well, say no more of this-it -makes me   Fan. No matter-only let us disclose our maruneasy.-All I have to ask of you is, to be faithful riage immediately!
and secret, and not to reveal this matter till we   Love. As soon as possible.
disclose it to the family ourselves.           Fan. But directly.
Bet. Me reveal -it!-If I say a word, I wish I   Love. In a few days, you may depend on it.
may be burned. I would not do you any harm for   Fan. To-night-or to-morrow morning.
the world-and as for Mr. Lovewell, I am sure I   Love. That, I fear, will be impracticable.
have loved the dear gentleman ever since he got a   Fan. Nay, but you must.
tide-waiter's place for my brother.-But let me tell   Love. Must! why.
you both, you must leave off your soft looks to each   Fan. Indeed you must-I have the most alarmother, and your whispers, and your glances, and ing reasons for it.
your always sitting next to one another at dinner,   Love. Alarming, indeed! for they alarm  me,
and your long walks together in the, evening. — even before I am acquainted with them-What
For my part, if I had not been in the secret, I are they'
should have known you were a pair of lovers at   Fan. I cannot tell you.
least, if not man and wife, as-                Love. Not tell me? 
Fan. See there now again! Pray be careful.    Fan. Not at present. When all is settled, you.Bet. Well, well —nobody hears me.-Man and shall be acquainted with every thing.
wife-I'll say no more. —What I tell you is very   Love. Sorry they are coming!-Must be distrue, for all that-                          covered! —What can this mean? Is it possible
Love. [ Within.] William!               - you can have any reasons that need be concealed
Bet. Hark! I hear your husband-           from me        -
Fan. What!                                   Fan. Do not disturb yourself witn conjecturesBet. I say here comes Mr. Loveweiil.-Mind  but rest assured, that though you are unable to
the caution I give you-.I'll be whipped now if divine the cause, the consequence of a discovery,
you are- not the first person he sees or speaks to in be it what. it -will, cannot be attended with half
the family. However, if you choose it, it's nothing the miseries of the present interval.
at all to me —as you sow, so you must reap-as you   Love. You put. me upon the rack-I would do
brew, so you must bake.-'ll e'en slip  down the any thing to make you easy.-But you know your
back stairs, and leave you together. - [Exit. father's temper-Money (you will excuse my
zFyan. I see, I see, I shall never have a moment's frankness) is the spring of all his actions, which
ease till our marriage is made public. New dis- nothing but the -idea of acquiring nobility or magtresses crowd in upon me every day. The solici- nificence, can ever make him forego-and these he
tude of my mind sinks my spirits, preys upon my thinks his money will purchase.-You know too,
health, and destroys every comfort of my life. It your aunt's, Mrs. Heidelberg's, notions of the
shall be revealed, let what will be the consequence. splendour of highlife; her contempt for every thing
that does not relish of what she calls quality; and
Enter LOVEWELL.                that from the vast fortune in her hands, by her late.h... husband, she absolutely governs Mr. Sterling and
Love. My love!-How's this?-In tears?-: the whole family. Now if they should come to
Indeed -this is: too much. You promised me tow ithe, knowledge of this aflfir too abruptly, they
support your spiilts, and to wait the determination, might perhaps be incensed beyond all hopes of
of our fortune with. patience. For my sake, for reconciliation.
your own, be comforted!. Why will you study to   Fan. Manage it yourown way. I am persuaded.
add to our uneasiness and perplexity?. -. Love. But in the mean time make yourself easy.
Fan. Oh, Mr. Lovewell, the indelicacy of a   Fan. As easy as 1 can, 1 will. —We had better
secret marriage grows: every day more and more not remain together any longer at present. —
shocking- to me..I walk about the house like a.
Enter STERLING as she is gqing.
guilty wretch-: I imagine myself the-object of the
suspicion of the whole family, and- am under the. Ster. Hey-day.! who have we got here q
perpetual terrors of a shameful detection.     Fan. - [Confused.] Mr. Lovewell, Sir.
Love. Indeed, indeed, you are to blame. The    Ster. And where are you going, hussy?
amiable delicacy of your temper, and your quick   Fan. To my sister's chamber, Sir.    [Exit.
sensibility, only serve to make you unhappy. —To    Ster. Ah, Lovewell! What! always getting
clear up this affair properly to Mr. Sterling, is the my foolish girl yonder into a corner?-Wellcontinual employment, of my thoughts. Every well-let us but once see her eldest sister fast
thing now is in a fair train. It begins to grow  married to Sir John Melvil, we'll soon provide a
ripe for a discovery;; and I have no doubt. of its good husband for Fanny, I warrant you.
concluding to the satisfaction of ourselves, of your   Love. Would to Heaven, Sir, you would pro.
father, and the whole family.                vide her one of my recommendation!




732               THE CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE.                                    [ACOT.
Ster. Yourself! eh, Lovewell?                Ster. Have you seen the currants, the soap,
Love. With your pleasure, Sir.             and madeira, safe in the warehouse?  Have you
Ster. Mighty well!                       compared the goods with the invoice and bills of
Love. And I flatter myself, that such a proposal lading, and are they all right?
would not be very disagreeable to Miss Fanny.  Love. They are, Sir.
Ster. Better and better!                     Ster. And how are stocks 2
Love. And if I could but obtain your consent.   Love. Fell one and a half this morning.
Sir-                                           Ster. Well, well-some good news from AmeSter. What! you marry Fanny!-no-no —  ica, and they'll be up again.-But how are Lord
that will never do, Lovewell-You're a good boy, Orleby, and Sir John Melvil?-when are we to
to be sure-I have a great value for you-but expect them'
can't think of you for a son-in-law.-There's no   Love. Very soon, Sir. I came on purpose to
stuff in the case; no money, Lovewell!      bring you their commands. Here are letters from
Love. My pretensions to fortune, indeed, are both of them.              [Giving -letters.
*but moderate; but though not equal to splendour,   Ster. Let me see-let me see-'Slife, how his
sufficient to keep us above distress.-Add to which, lordship's letter is perfumed!-It takes my breath
that I hope by diligence to increase it-and have away. [Opening it.] And French paper too!love, honour-                               with a slippery gloss on it that dazzles one's eyes.
Ster. But not the stuff, Lovewell!-Add one -liy dear Mr. Sterling —[Reading.]-Mercy
little round 0 to the sum total of your fortune, and on me! his lordship writes a worse hand than a
that will be the finest thing you can say to me.-  boy at his exercise. —But how's this?-Eh!You know I've a regard for you-would do any  Withyou to-night-Lawyersto-morrowmorning
thing to serve you-any thing on the footing of -To-night!-that's sudden, indeed-Where's
friendship-but-                             my sister H.eidelberg? She should know of this
Love. If you think meworthy ofyour friendship, immediately.-Here, John! Harry! Thomas!
Sir, be assured that there is no instance in which [Calling the Servants.] Harkye, Lovewell!
I should rate your friendship so highly.      Love. Sir.
Ster. Pshaw! pshaw! that's another thing,   Ster. Mind now, how I'll entertain his lordship
you know.-Where money or interest is con- and Sir John —We'll show your fellows at the
cerned, friendship is quite out of the question.    other end of the town how we live in the cityLove. But where the happiness of a daughter is They shall eat gold-and drink gold-and lie in
at stake, you would not scruple, sure, to sacrifice gold.-Here, cook! butler! [Calling.] What
a little to her inclinations.               signifies your birth, and education, and titles!Ster. Inclinations! why you would not persuade Money, money!-that's the stuff that makes the
me that the girl is in love with you-eh, Lovewell? great man in this country.
Lov. 1 cannot absolutely answer for Miss Fanny,   Love. Very true, Sir.
Sir; but am sure that the chief happiness or   Ster. True, Sir!-Why then have done with
misery of my life depends entirely upon her.  your nonsense of love and matrimony. You're not
Ster. Why, indeed, now if your kinsman, Lord rich enough to think of a wife yet. A man of busiOgleby, would come down handsomely for you- ness should mind nothingbut his business-Where
but that's impossible-No, no,-'twill never do- are these fellows? John! Thomas! —[Calling.]
I must hear no more of this-Come, Lovewell, Get an estate, and a-wife will follow ofcourse-Ah!
promise me that I shall hear no more of this.  Lovewell! an English-merchant is the most reLove. [Hesitating.] I am afraid, Sir, I should  spectable character in the  universe.-'Slife, man,
not be able to keep my word with you, if I did a rich English merchant may make himself a
promise you.                                 match for the daughter of a nabob.-Where are
Ster. Why, you would not offer to marry her all my rascals?-Here, William!- [Exit, calling.
without my consent! would you, Lovewell?    Love. So-as I suspected.-Quite averse to the
Love. Marry her, Sir!          [Confused. match, and likely to receive the news of it with
Ster. Ay, marry her, Sir!-I know very well, great displeasure.-What's best to be done?that a warm speech or two from such a dangerous Let me see-Suppose I get Sir John Melvil to
young spark as you are, would go much further interest himself in this affair. He may mention it
towards persuading a silly girl to do what she has to Lord Ogleby with a better grace than I can,
more than a month:s mind to do, than twenty and more probably -prevail: on him to interfere in
grave lectures from fathers, or mothers, or uncles, it. I can open my mind also more freely to Sir
or aunts, to prevent her. But you would not, sure, John. He told me, when I left him in town, that
be such a base fellow, such a treacherous young he had something of consequence to communicate,
rogue, as to seduce my daughter's affections, and and that I could be of use to him. I am glad of
destroy the peace of my family in that manner.- it: for the confidence he reposes in me, and the
I must insist on it, that you give nme your word service I may do him, will ensure me his good
not to marry her without my consent.        offices.-Poor Fanny! it hurts me to see her so
Love. Sir-I-I-as to that-I-I-beg, Sir-  uneasy, and her making a mystery of the cause
Pray, Sir, excuse me on this subject at present.  adds to my anxiety.-Something must be done
Ster. Promise then, that you will carry this upon her account; for, at all events, her solicitude
-matter no further without my approbation.  shall be removed.                     [Exit.
Love. You may depend on it, Sir, that it shall
g ~o~ no further.               ~SCENE II.-MIss    STERLING'S Dressing Room.
go no further.
Ster. Well-well —that's enough-I'll take      MISS STERLING and FANNY, discovered.
care of the rest, I warrant you.-Come, come,
iet's have done with this nonsense!-What's do-   Miss S. O, my dear sister, say no more!-This
ing in town?-w'Any news upon'Change?      is downright hypocrisy.-You shall -never conLove. Nothing material.                    vince me that you don't envy me beyond measure.




SCEN II.]    THE CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE.                                            733
— Well, after all, it is extremely natural-It is bye-word in the city-You must never venture on
impossible to be angry with you.             the inside of Temple-bar again.
Ilan, Indeed, sister, you have no cause.     Miss S. Never do I desire it-never, my dear
nMiss S. And so you really pretend not to envy Fanny, I promise you. Oh, how I long to be
me?                                         transported to the dear regions of GrosvenorFan. Not in the least.                     square-far-far-from  the dull districts of AlMiss S. And you don't in the least wish that dersgate, Cheap, Candle-wick, and Farringdon
you was just in my situation   Without and Within!-my heart goes pit-a-pat
Fan. No, indeed, I don't. Why should I?   at the very idea of being introduced at court!Miss S.- Why should you?  What! on the gilt chariot!-piebald horses!-laced liveries!brink of marriage, fortune, title-But I had for- and then the whispers buzzing round the circlegot-There's that dear, sweet creature, Mr. Love- " Who is that young lady? Who is she?" " Lady
well, in the case.-You would not break your Melvil, Ma'am!"-Lady Melvil -My ears tingle
faith with your true-love now for the world, I at the sound.-And then at dinner, instead of
warrant you.                                 my father perpetually asking-" Any news upon
Fan. Mr. Lovewell!-always Mr. Lovewell!'Change?"-to cry, "Well, Sir John! any thing
-Lord, what signifies Mr. Lovewell, sister?  new from Arthur's."-or to say to some other
Miss S Prettypeevish soul!-O, my dear, grave, woman of quality, "Was your ladyship at the
romantic sister -!-a perfect philosopher in petti- Duchess of Rubber's last night?-Did you call in
coats! Love and a cottage!-eh, Fanny —-Ah, at Lady Thunder's?-In the immensity of crowd,
give me indifference and a coach and six!    I swear I did not see you-Scarce a soul at the
Fan. And why not a coach and six without the opera last Saturday-Shall I see you at Carlisleindifference?-But pray when is this happy mar- house next Thursday?'"-Oh, the beau monde! I
riage of yours to be celebrated?  I long to give was born to move in the sphere of the great world.
you joy.                                       Fan. And so, in the midst of all this happiness,
Miss S. In a day or two-I cannot tell exactly-  you have no compassion for me-no pity for us
Oh, my dear sister!-I must mortify her a little: poor mortals in common life.
[Aside.] I know you have a pretty taste. Pray    Miss S. [Affectedly.]  You?-You're above
give me your opinion of my jewels. How do you pity.-You would not change conditions with me.
like the style of this esclavage? [Showing jewels. -You're over head and ears in love, you know;Fan. Extremely handsome indeed, and well Nay, for that matter, if Mr. Lovewell and you
fancied.                                     come together, as I doubt not you will, you will
Miss S. What d'ye think of these bracelets? I live very comfortably, I dare say.-He will mind
shall have a miniature of my father set round with his business-you'll employ yourself in the delightdiamonds to one, and Sir John's to the other.-  ful care of your family-and once in a season,
And this pair of ear-rings, set transparent!-  perhaps, you'll sit together in a front box at a
Here, the tops, you see, will take off, to wear in benefit play, as we used to do at our dancing masa morning, or in an undress-how d'ye like them? ter's, you know-and perhaps I may meet you in
[Shows jewels. the summer, with some other citizens, at TunFan. Very much, I assure you-Bless me, sis- bridge. For my part, I shall always entertain a
ter, you have a prodigious quantity of jewels-  proper regard for my relations.-You sha'n't want
you'll be the very queen of diamonds.        my countenance, I assure you.
Miss S. Ha, ha, ha! very well, my dear!-I   Fan. Oh, you're too kind, sister!
shall he as fine as a little queen indeed. —I have    Enter MRs. HEIDELBERG.
a bouquet to come home to-morrow-made up of
diamonds, and rubies, and emeralds, and topazes,   Mrs. H. [At entering.] Here this evening!and amethysts —jewels of all colours, green, red, I vow and pertest we shall scarce have time to
blue, yellow, intermixed-the prettiest thing you provide for them-Oh, my dear! [ To MIss STERever saw in your life! —The jeweller says I shall LING.] I am glad to see you are not quitein a dishset out with as many diamonds as any body in  abille. Lord Ogleby and Sir John Melvil will be
town, except Lady Brilliant, and Polly What- hear to-night.
d'ye-call-it, Lord Squander's kept mistress.  -Miss S. To-night, Ma'am?
Pan. But what are your wedding-clothes, sister?    Mrs. H. Yes, my dear, to-night.-Oh, put on a
Miss S. O, white and silver, to be sure, you smarter cap, and change these ordinary ruffles!know.-I bought them at Sir Joseph Lutestring's, Lord, I have such a deal to do, I shall scarce have
and sat above an hour in the parlour behind the time to slip on my Italian lutestring.-Where is
shop, consulting Lady Lutestring about gold and this dawdle of a housekeeper?
silver stuffs, on purpose to mortify her.                  Enter TRUSTY.
Fan. Fy, sister! how could you be so abominably provoking?                               Oh, here, Trusty! do you know that people of
Miss S. Oh, I have no patience with the pride qualaty are expected this evening 2
of your city-knight's ladies.-Did you ever observe    Trus. Yes, Ma'am.
the airs of Lady Lutestring, dressed in the richest   Sirs. H. Well-Do you be sure now that every
brocade out of her husband's shop, playing crown- thing is done in the most genteelest manner-and
whist at Haberdasher's hall-whilst the civil, to the honour of the family.
snmirking Sir Joseph, with a snug wig trimmed    Trus. Yes, Ma'am.
round his broad face as close as a new cut yew    Mrs. H. Well-but mind what I say to you.
hedge, and his shoes so black that they shine again,   Trus. Yes, Ma'am.
stands all day in his shop, fastened to his counter   Mrs. H. His lordship is to lie in the chintz bedlke a bad shilling?                          chamber-d'ye hear?-and Sir John in the blue
Fan. Indeed, indeed, sister, this is too much- damask room —his lordship's valet-de-cbainb in
If you talk at this rate, you will be absolutely a the opposite- -
62




73~4              THE CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE.                                     LACT.
Trus. But Mr. Lovewell is come down-' and I John. He is full of attentions to the ladies, and
you know that's his room, Ma'am.           smiles, and grins, and leers, and ogles, and fills
Al/lrs. H. Well-well-Mr. Lovewell may make every wrinkle of his old wizen face with comical
shift-or get a bed at the George.-But harkye, expressions of tenderness. I think he would make
Trusty!  an admirable sweetheart.
Trus. Ma'am!
Mrs. H. Get the great dining-room in order as           Enter STERLING.
soon as possible. Unpaper the curtains, take the,  Ster. No fish. Why the pond was dragged
kivers off the couch and the chairs, and, do you but yesterday morning —There's carp and tench
hear-take the china dolls out of my closet, and in the boat —Plague on't, if that dog Lovewell
put them on the mantle-piece immediately —   had any thought, he would have brought down a
Trus. Yes, Ma'am.                [Going. turbot, or some of the land-carriage mackarel.
Mrs. H. And mind, as soon- as his lordship comes   Mrs. H. Lord, brother, 1 am afraid his lordship
in, be sure you set all their heads a nodding.  and Sir John will not arrive while it is light.
Trus. Yes, Ma'am.                           Ster. I warrant you.-But pray, sister Heidel-.Mrs. H. Begone, then! fly, this instant!-  berg, let the turtle be dressed to-morrow, andsome
Where's my brother Sterling?               venison-and let the gardener cut some - pineTrus. Talking to the butler, Ma'am.       apples-and get out some ice.-I'll answer fol
Vrs. H. Very well. [Exit TRUSTY.] Miss wine, I warrant you-I'll give them such a glass
Fanny, I pertest I did not see you before-Lord, of champaign as they never drank in their liveschild, what's the matter with you I -       no, not at a duke's table.
Fan. With me! nothing,- Ma'am.    -         Mrs. H. Pray, now, brother, mind how you beMrs" H. Bless me! Why your face is as pale, have. I am always in a fright~ about you with
and black, and yellow-of fifty colours, I -vow and people of qualaty.  Take care that you don't fall
pertest.-And then you have drest yourself as asleep directly after supper, as you commonly do.
loose and as big-I declare there is not such a Take a good deal ofsnuff: and that will keep you
thing to be seen now, as a young woman with a awake-And don't burst out with your horrible
fine waist-You all make yourselves as round as loud horse-laughs. It is monstrous wulgar.
Mrs. Deputy Barter. Go, child!  You know the   Ster. Never fear, sister!-Who have we here?
qualaty will be here by and by. Go, and make  -Mrs. H. It is Mounseer Cantoon, the Swish
yourself a little more fit to be seen. [Exit FANNY.] gentleman that lives with his lordship, I vow and
She is gone away in tears-absolutely crying, I pertest.
vow and pertest.-This ridicalous love! we must
put a stop to it. It makes a perfect nataral of the        Enter CANTON.
girl.                                          Ster. Ah, Mounseer! your servant. —I air
fMIiss S. Poor soul! she can't help it.   very glad to see you, Mounseer.
[Affectedly.   Can. Mosh oblige to Mons. Sterling.-Ma'am,
tiMrs. H. Well, my dear! Now I shall have an I am yours-Matemoiselle, I am your.
opportunity of convincing you of the absurdity of                        [Bowing round.
what you was telling me concerning Sir John    Mrs. H. Your humble servant, Mr. Cantoon!
Melvil's behaviour to you.                     Can. Kiss your hand, Matam!
Miss S. Oh, it gives me no manner of uneasi-   Ster. Well, Mohnseer!-and what news of
ness.-But indeed, Ma'am, I cannot be persuaded your good family'-when are we to see his lordbut that Sir John is an extremely cold lover. ship and Sir John?
Such distant civility, grave looks, and lukewarm    Can. Mons. Sterling! milor Ogleby and Sir
professions of esteem for me and the whole family! Jean Melvil will be here in one quarter hour.
1 have heard of flames and darts, but Sir John's   Ster. I am glad to hear it.
is a passion of mere ice and snow.             Mrs. H. 0, I am perdigious glad to hear it.
Mrs. H. Oh fy, my dear! I am  perfectly Being so late, I was afeard of some accident.ashamed of you. That's so like the notions of Will you please to have any thing, Mr. Cantoon,
your poor sister! What you complain of as after your journey?
coldness and indifference, is nothing but the ex-   Can. No, tank you, Ma'am.
treme gentilaty of his address, an exact pictur of.Mrs. H. Shall I go and show you the apartthe manners of qualaty.                     ments, Sir?
Miss S. O, he is the very mirror of complais-   Can. You do me great honour, Ma'am.
ance; full of formal bows and set speeches! I de-   Mrs. H. Come then! come, my dear.
dare, if there was any violent passion on my side,                 [To Miss S. Exeunt.
I should be quite jealous of him.
MIlrs. H. Jealous! I say, jealous indeed-Jealous of who, pray v                           SCENE I.-Anti-Room to LORD OGLEBY'S
_Iiss S. My sister Fanny. She seems a much                Bedchamber.
greater fivourite than I am; and he pays her infinitely more attention, I assure you.  -    
AIrs. H. Lord! d'ye think a man of fashion, as   Brush. You shall stay, my dear, I insist upon it.
he is, cannot distinguish between the genteel and    Chamin. Nay pray, Sir, don't be so positive; I
the vulgar part of the family 2 Between you and cannot stay, indeed.
your sister, for instance-or me and my brother?   Brush. You shall drink one cup to our better
Be advised by me, child; it is all politeness and acquaintance.
good breeding. Nobody knows the qualaty better   Cham. I seldom drinks chocolate; and, if I did,
bran I do.                                   one has no satisfaction with such apprehensions
Miss S. In my mind, the old:lord, his'uncle, about one-if my lord. should wake, or the Swish
has ten times more gallantry about him than Sir gentleman should see one, or:Madam Heidelberg




sENEI x.          THE CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE.                                       735
should know of it, I should be frightened to death    Cham. Not for the world, Mr. Brush-I'll be
-besides, I have had my tea already this morning here to set all things to rights-But I must not
-I'm  sure I hear my lord.      [In afright. drink tea indeed-and so your servant.
Brush. No, no, Madam, don't flutter yourself     [Exit with tea-board. Bell rings again.
-the moment my lord wakes he rings his bell,   Brush. Yes, yes, I hear you.-It is impossible
which I answer sooner or later, as it suits my con- -to stupify one's self in the country for a week,
venience.                                    without some little flirting with the abigails
Chain. But should he come upon us without this is much the handsomest wench in the house,
ringing-                                     except the old citizen's youngest daughter, and 1
Brush. I'll forgive him if he does-this key-  have not time enough to lay a plan for her.-[Bell
Takes a vial out of the case.] locks him up till rings.] 0, my lord-            [Going.
please to let him out. 
Chainm. Law! Sir, that's potecary's stuff.  Enter CANTON with newspapers in his hand.
Brush. It is so-but without this he can no more    Can. Monsieur Brush!-Maitre Brush! my
get out of bed-than he can read without spec- lor stirra yet?
tacles-[Sips.] What with qualms, age, rheumat-   Brush. He has just rung his bell-I am going
ism, and a few surfeits in his youth, he must have to him...                      [Exit.
a great deal of brushing, oiling, screwing, and   Can. Depechez-vous donc. [Puts on his speewinding-up to set him a-going for the day.   tacles.] —I wish de deveil had all dese papiersChamin. [Sips.] That's prodigious indeed- I forget as fast as I read-de Advertise put out
[Sips.] My lord seems quite in a decay.      of my head de Gazette, de Chronique, and so dey
Brush. Yes, he's quite a spectacle. [Sips.] all go l'un apres l'autre-I must get some nouvelle
A mere corpse till he is revived and refreshed from  for my lor, or he'll be enrage contre moi. — Voyons!
our little magazine here-When the restorative [Reads the paper.] Here is nothing.but A nti
pills and cordial waters warm his stomach, and  Sejanus and advertiseget into his head, vanity frisks in his heart, and
then he sets up for the lover, the rake, and the
fine gentleman.                              Vat you want, chil i
Cham. [Sips.] Poor gentleman! but should the   Maid. Only the chocolate things, Sir.
Swish gentleman come upon us!  [Frightened.   Can. 0, ver well-dat is good girl-and ver
Brush. Why then the English gentleman prit too.                           tExit MAIDn.
would be very angry.-No foreigner must break    Lord O. [Within.] Canton! he, he!-[ Coughs.]
m upon my privacy. [Sips.] But I can assure Canton!you Monsieur Canton is otherwise employed-    Can. I come, my!-vat shall I do?-I have no
He is obliged to skim the cream of half a score news-he will make great tintamarre!newspapers for my lord's breakfast-ha, ha, ha!   Lord O. [Within.] Canton! I say, Canton!
Pray, Madam, drink your cup peaceably-My  Where are you 2
ord's chocolate is remarkably good; he wont touch
a drop but what comes from Italy.
Cham. [Sipping]'Tis very fine indeed! [Sips.]   Can. Here, my lor!-I ask pardon, my lor, I
and charmingly perfumed-it smells for all the have not finish de papiers.world like our young ladies' dressing-boxes.   Lord 0. Damn your pardon and your papiers
Brush. You have an excellent taste, Madam; -I want you here, Canton..
and I must beg of you to accept of a few cakes   Can. Den I run, dat is all.
for your own drinking; [Takes them out of a      [Shuffles along. LORD OGLEBY leans upon
drawer in the table.] and in return I desire nothing  CANTON too, and comes forward.
but to taste the perfume of your lips. [Kisses her.]   Lord 0. You Swiss are the most unaccount-A small return of favours, Madam, will make, able mixture-you have the language and theiimI hope, this country and retirement agreeable to pertinence of the French, with the laziness of.
us both. [He bows, she courtesies.]-Come, pray  Dutchmen.
sit down-Your young ladies are fine girls, faith;   Can.'Tis very true, my -ior —-I can't helprSips.] though, upon my soul, I am quite of my    Lord O. [Cries out.] 0 Diavolo!
old lord's mind about them; and were I inclined    Can. You are not in pain, I hope, my lor?
to matrimony, I should take the youngest. [Sips.   Lord 0. Indeed but I am, my-lor.-That vulgar
Cham. Miss Fanny! The most affablest, and fellow, Sterling, with his city politeness, would
the most best-natured creter!-              force me down his slope last night to see a clayBrush. And the eldest a little haughty or so- coloured ditch, which he calls a canal; and what
Cham. More haughtier and prouder than  with the -dew and the east wind, my hips and
Saturn himself-but this I say quite confidential shoulders are absolutely screwed to my body.
to you; for one would not hurt a young lady's   Can. A littel veritable eau- d'arquibusade vil
marriage, you know.                   [Sips. set all to rightBrush. By no means; but you cannot hurt it     [LORD OGLEBY sits down, and BRUSH gives
with us-we don't consider tempers-we want            chocolate.
money, Mrs. Nancy. Give us plenty of that,   Lord O. Where are the palsy drops, Brush? 
we'll abate you a great deal in other particulars,   Brush. Here, my lord.    [Pours out.
ha, ha, ha!                                    Lord O. Quelle nouvelle avez-vous, Canton?
Chain. Bless me, here's somebody! [Bell   Can. A great deal of papier, but no news at alL
rings.] —Oh,'tis my lord!-Well, your servant,   Lord 0. What! nothing at all, you stupid felMr. Brush-I'll clean the cups in the next room. low!
Brush. Do so-but never mind the bell-I   Can. Oui, my lor, I have little advertise, here,
sha'n't go this half hour.-Will you drink tea with vil give you more plaisir den all de lies about nome in the afternoon?                        ting at all. La voila!  [Puts on his spectacles.




736               THE CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE.                                    [ACT'l:.
Lord 0. Come, read it, Canton, with good pret! [Sings and dances.]-Oh! that's an ugly
emphasis, and good discretion.               twinge-but it's gone. I have rather too much
Can. I vil, my lor. [Reads.] Dere is no question of the lily this morning in my complexion; a faint
but that the cosmetzque royale vill utterly take away all tincture of the rose will give a delicate spirit to
heats, pimps, frecks, oder eruptions of de skin, and my eyes for the day.-[ Unlocks a drawer at the
likewise de wrinque of old age, &4c. 4fc.-A great deal bottom of the glass, and takes out rouge; while
more, my lor. —Be sure to ask for de cosmetique roy- he is painting himself a knocking at the door.]
ale, signed by the docteur own hand —Dere is more Who's there! I wont be disturbed.
raison for dis caution dan good men vil tink-Eh.] My lor my lor here is Mon
Lord 0. Eh bien, Canton! Will you purchase sieur Sterling, to pay his devoir to you this morn
any Z                                        in your chambre.
Can. For you, my lor  Lord 0. What a fellow! [Sqftly.]-I am exLord.O. For me, you old puppy? for what   tremely honoured by Mr. Sterling.-Why don't
Can. My lor l                             you see him in, Monsieur? [Aloud.]-I wish he
Lord 0. Do I want cosmetics 1              was at the bottom of his stinking canal. [Softly —
Can. My lor!                              door opens.] Oh, my dear Mr. Sterling, you do
Lord 0. Look in my face-come, be sincere.- me a great deal of honour.
Does it want the assistance of art?               Enter STERLING and LOVEWELL.
Can. [ W]ith his spectacles.] En verite non. —    Ster. I hope, my lord, that your lordship slept'Tis very smoose and brillian-But tote dat you well last night-I believe there are no better beds
might take a little by way of prevention.    in Europe than I have-I spare no pains to get
Lord O. You thought like an old fool, Monsieur, them, nor money to buy them.-His Majesty,
as you generally do. Try it upon your own face, God bless him, don't sleep upon a better out of his
Canton, and if it has any effect, the doctor cannot palace; and if I had said in too, I hope no treason
have a better proof of the efficacy of his nostrum. my lord.
The surfeit water, Brush! [BRUSH pours out.]-   Lord 0. Your beds are like every thing else
What do you think, Brush, of this family we are about you-incomparable!-They not only make
going to be connected with? —Eh!           one rest well, but give one spirits, Mr. Sterling.
Brush. Very well to marry in, my lord; butit   Ster. What say you then, my lord, to anwould never do to live with.                 other walk in the garden? You must see my
Lord O. You are right, Brush-There is no water by day-light, and my walks, and'my
washing the blackmoor white-Mr. Sterling will slopes, and my clumps, and my bridge, and my
never get rid of Blackfriars-always taste of the flowering trees, and my bed of Dutch tulips.Borachio-and the poor woman, his sister, is so Matters looked but dim, last night, my lord. T
busy, and so notable, to mialke one welcome, that feel the. dew in my great toe-but I would put on
I have not yet' got over the fatigue of her first re- a cut shoe, that I might be able to walk you about
meption; it almost amounted to suffocation!-T -I may be laid up to-morrow.
think the daughters are tolerable-Where's my   Lord 0. I pray Heaven you may!   [Aside.
cephalic snuff?      [BRUSH gives him a box.   Ster. That say you, my lord'
Can. Dey tink so of you, my lor, for dey look   Lord 0. I was saying, Sir, that I was in hopes
at noting else, mafoi.                       of seeing the young ladies at breakfast: Mr. SteaLord 0. Did they?  Why I think they did a ling, they are, in my mind, the finest tulips in
little-Where's my glass?-[BRUSH puts one on this part of the world, he, he, he, he!
the table.] The youngest is delectable.        Can. Bravissimo, my lor i! ha, ha, ha, ha!
[ Takes snuff.   Ster. They shall meet your lordship in the gasCan. 0 oui, my lor, very delect inteed; she den-we wont lose our walk for them; I'll take
made doux yeux at you, my lor.               you a little round before breakfast; and a larger
Lord 0. She was particular.  The eldest, my before dinner, and in the evening you shall go the
nephew's lady, will be a most valuable wife; she grand tour, as I call it, ha, ha, ha!
has all the vulgar spirits of her father and aunt,   Lord 0. Not a foot, I hope, Mr. Sterling; con.happily blended with the termagant qualities of sider your gout, my good friend-you'll certainly
her deceased mother.-Some peppermint water, be laid by the heels for your politeness, he, he, he 
Brush-How  happy is it, Canton, for young    Can. Ha, ha, ha!'tis admirable, en verite!
ladies in general, that people of quality overlook                  [Laughs very heartily.
every thing in a marriage contract but their   Ster. If my young man [To LOVEWELL.] hem
fortune.                                     would but laugh at my jokes, which he ought to
Can. C'est bien heureux, et commode aussi.   do, as Mounseer does at yours, my lord, we should
Lord 0. Brush, give me that pamphlet by my be all life and mirth.
bed-side. [BRUSH goes for it.] Canton, do you   Lord 0. What' say you, Canton, will you take
wait in the anti-chamber, and let nobody interrupt my kinsman into your tuition?' You have ceame till I call you.                          tainly the most companionable laugh I ever met
Can. Mush good may do your lordship. [Exit. with, and never out of tune.
Lord O. [ To BRUSH, who brings thepamphlet.]   Can. But when your lordship is out of spirits.
And now, Brush, leave me a little to my studies.   Lord 0. Well said, Canton! But here comes
[Exit BRUSH.]-What can I possibly do among my nephew, to play his part.
these women here, with this confounded rheumatism? it is a most grievous enemy to gallantry and Enter SIR JOHN MELVIL.
address. I Gets offhis chair.] He! courage'! cou- Well, Sir John, what news from the island of
rage, my lor! by heavens, I'm another creature. love? Have you been sighing and serenading this
[Hums and dances a little.] It will do, faith-  morning 
Bravo, my lor! these girls nave absolutely inspired   Sir J. I am glad to see your lordship in such
sme-If they are for a game of romps-M-ie viola spirits this morning.




SCENE II.]    THE CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE.                                           737
Lord O. I'm sorry to see you so dull, Sir-    Sir J. Walking! yes, Idare say. It rained as
What poor things, Mr. Sterling, these very young hard as it could pour. Sweet refreshing showers
fellows are I They make love with faces as if to walk in! No, no, Lovewell. Now would I
they were burying the dead-though indeed a give twenty pounds to know which of the maidsmarriage sometimes may be properly called a bury-   Love. But your business! your business, Sir
ing of the living-eh, Mr. Sterling.         John!
Ster. Not if they have enough to live upon, my    Sir J. Let me a little into the secrets of the
loid —Ha, ha, ha!                            family.
Can. Dat is all Monsieur Sterling tink of.   Love. Pshaw!
Sir J. Pr'ythee, Lovewell, come with me into   Sir J. Poor Lovewell! he can't bear it, I see.
the garden; 1 have something of consequence for [Aside.] She charged you not to kiss and tell, eh,
you, and J must communicate it directly.     Lovewell! However, though you will not honour
[Apart to LOVEWELL. me with your confidence, 1'11 venture to trust you
Love. We'll go together. [Apart.] If your lord- with mine.-What do you think of Miss Sterling?
ship and Mr. Sterling please; we'll prepare the   Love. What do I think of Miss SterlingS
ladies to attend you in the garden.            Sir J. Ay, what do you think of her 2
[Exeunt SIR JOHN MELVIL and LoVEWELL.   Love. An odd question!-but I think her a
Ster. My girls are always ready; I make them  smart, lively girl, full of mirth and sprightliness.
rise soon, and to bed early; their husbands shall   Sir J. All mischief and malice, I doubt.
have them with good constitutions and good for-   Love. How?
tunes, if they have nothing else, my lord.     Sir J. But her person-what d'ye think of
Lord O. Fine things, Mr. Sterling!         that 
Ster. Fine things, indeed, my lord!-Ah, my   Love. Pretty and agreeable.
lord, had you not run off your speed in your youth,   Sir J. A little grisette thing.
you had not been so crippled in your age, my lord.   Love. What is the meaning of all this?
Lord O. Very pleasant, he, he, he!           Sir J. I'll tell you. You must know, Lovewell,
[Half laughing. that notwithstanding all appearances-[A  loud
Ster. Here's Mounseer now, I suppose, is laugh without.]  We are interrupted-When
pretty near your lordship's standing; but, having they are gone, I'll explain.
little to eat, and little to spend in his own country, Enter LORD OGLEBY, STERLING, CANTON, MaS.
he'll wear three of your lordship out-eating and    HEIDELBERG, MISS STERLING, and FANNY.
drinking kills us all.
Lord O. Very pleasant, I protest-What a   Lord O. Great improvements indeed, Mr. Stervular dog!                          [Aside. ling! wonderful improvements! The four seasons
Can. My lor so old as me!-He is chicken to in lead, the flying Mercury, and the bason with
me-and look like a boy to pauvre me.         Neptune in the midldle, are in the very extreme
Ster. Ha, ha, ha! Well said, Mounseer-keep  of fine taste. You have as many rich figures as
to that, and you'll live in any country of the world the man at Hyde-park corner.
-Ha, ha, ha!-But, my lord, I will wait upon    Ster. The chief pleasure of a country house is
you in the garden: we have but a little time to to make improvements, you know, my lord. I
breakfast-I'll go for my hat and cane, fetch a spare no expense, not I.-This is quite anotherlittle walk with you, my lord, and then for the guess sort of a place than it was when I first took
rolls and butter!                    [Exit. it, my lord. We were surrounded with trees. I
Lord O. I shall attend you with pleasure-hot cut down about fifty to make the lawn before the
rolls and butter in July! I sweat with the thoughts house, and let in the wind and the sun-smack
of it-                                      smooth-as you see.- Then I made a green-house
Can. C'est un barbare.                    out of the old laundry, and turned the brewhouse
Lord O. He is a vulgar dog; and if there was into a pinery. The high octagon summer-house,
not so much money in the family, which I can't you see yonder, is raised on the mast of a ship,
do without, I would leave him and his hot rolls given me by an East India captain. who has turned
amd butter directly-Come along, Monsieur.   many a thousand of my money. It commands the
[Exeunt. whole road. All the coaches, and chariots, and
SCENE II.-The Garden.              chaises, pass and repass under your eye.  I'll
mount you up there in the afternon, my lord.
Enter SIR JOHN MELVIL and LOVEWELL.         Lord O. No, I thank you, Mr. Sterling.
Love. In my room this morning?  Impossible.   Ster.'Tis the pleasantest place in the world to
Sir J. Before five this morning, I promise you. take a pipe and a bottle, and so you shall say, my
Love. On what occasion?                  lord.
Sir J. I was so anxious to disclose my mind to   Lord O. Ay, or a bowl of punch, or a can of
you, that I could not sleep in my bed-but I found flip, Mr. Sterling; for it looks like a cabin in the
that you could not sleep neither-The bird was air.-If flying chairs were in use. the captain
flown, and the nest long since cold-Where was might make a voyage to the Indies in it still, if he
you, Lovewell?                              had but a fair wind.
Love. Pooh! pr'ythee! ridiculous!            Can. Ha, ha, ha, ha!
Sir J. Come now, which was it; Miss Ster-   Mrs. it. My brother's a little comical in his
ling's maidS apretty little rogue! or Miss Fanny's ideas, my lord!-But you'll excuse him.-I have
Abigail? a sweet soul too-or-               a little Gothic dairy, fitted up entirely in my own
Love. Nay, nay, leave trifling, and tell me your taste.-In the evening, I shall hope for the honour
business.                                    of your lordship's company to take a dish of tea
Sir J. Well, but where was you, Lovewell?   there, or a sullabub warm from the cow.
Love. Walking-writing-what signifies where   Lord O. I have every moment a fresh opporI was?                                     tunity of admiring the elegance of Mrs. HeidelVOL. I.... 5 A     62*




738               THE CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE.                                     [ACT 11.
berg-the very flower of delicacy and cream of [Leers at the women.] Simple, yet varied; bound
politeness.                                  ed, yet extensive.-Get away, Canton! [Pushes
Tfrs. H. O, my lord!-[Leers at LORD OGLEBY. CANTON away.] I want no assistance —'ll walk
Lord 0. 0, Madam!-                         with the ladies.
[Leers at MRS. HEIDELBERG.   Ster. This way, my lord!
Ster. How d'ye like these close walks, my lord?   Lord 0. Lead on, Sir!-We young folks here,
Lord 0. A most excellent serpentine! —It forms will follow  you.-Madam!-Miss Sterling!a perfect maze, and winds like a true-lover's knot. Miss Fanny! I attend you.
Ster. Ay, here's none of your straight lines here  [Exit after STERLIfNG, gallanting the ladies.
-but all taste-zig-zag-crinkum-crankum-in    Can. [Following.] He is cock o'de game, ma
and out-right and left —to and again-twisting foi!                                 [Exit.
and turning like a worm. my lord.              Sir J. Hark ye, Lovewell, you must not goLord 0. Admirably laid out indeed, Mr. Ster- at length, thank Heaven! I have an opportunity
ling! one can hardly see an inch before one's nose to unbosom.-l know you are faithful, Lovewell,
any where in these walks. You are a most ex- and flatter myself you would rejoice to serve me.
cellent economist of your land, and make a little   Love. Be assured, you may depend upon me.
go a great way.-It lies together in as small par-   Sir J. You must know then, notwithstanding
eels as if it was placed in pots out of your window  all appearances, that this treaty of marriage bein Gracechurch-street.                       tween Miss Sterling and me, will come to nothing.
Can. Ha, ha, ha, ha!                         Love. How'?
Lord 0. What d'ye laugh at, Canton?          Sir J. It will be no match, Lovewell.
Can. Ah! que cette similitude est drole! so   Love. No match?
clever what you say, my lor!-                 Sir J. No.Lord 0. You seem mightily engaged, Madam.   Love. You amaze me. What should prevent it?
What are those pretty hands so busily employed    Sir J I.
about                           [ To FANNY.    Love. You! Wherefore?
Fan. Only making up a nosegay, my lord!-    Sir J. I don't like her.
Will your lordship do me the honour of accepting    Love. Yery plain, indeed! I never supposed that
it?                            [Presents it. you were extremely devoted to her from inclinaLord 0. I'll wear it next my heart, Madam;.- tion, but thought you always considered it as a
I see the young creature dotes on me.   [Aside. matter of convenience rather than affection.
Miss S. Lord, sister! you've loaded his lordship    Sir J. Very true. I came into the family withwith a bunch of flowers as big as the cook, or the out any impressions on my mind-with an unimnurse, carries to town, on a Monday morning, for passioned indifference, ready to receive one woman
a beau-pot.-Will your lordship give me leave to as soon as another. I looked upon love, serious,
present you with this rose and a sprig of sweet- sober love, as a chimera, and marriage as a thing
briar?                                      of course, as you know most people do. But I,
Lord 0. The truest emblems of yourself, Ma- who was lately so great an infidel in love, am now
dam! all sweetness and poignancy.-A  little one of its sincerest votaries.-In short, my defection
jealous, poor soul!                  [Aside. from Miss Sterling proceeds from the violence of
Ster. Now, my lord, if you please, I'll carry you  my attachment to another.
to see my ruins.                               Love. Another! So, so! here will be fine work.
l/irs. H. You'll absolutely fatigue his lordship  And pray who is she?
with over walking, brother!                    Sir J. Who is she! who can she be but Fanny
Lord 0. Not at all, Madam! We're in the -the tender, amiable, engaging, Fanny?
garden of Eden, you know; in the region of per-   Love. Fanny! what Fanny?
petual spring, youth, and beauty.              Sir J. Fanny Sterling. Her sister-Is not she
[Leers at the women. an angel, Lovewell?
Mrs. H. Quite the man of qualaty, I vow and    Love. Her sister? Confusion!-You must not
pertest.                             [Aside. think of it, Sir John.
Can. Take a my arm, mi lor!                  Sir J. Not think of it? I can think of nothing
[LORD OGLEBY leans on him. else. Nay, tell me, Lovewell, was it possible for
Ster. I'll only show his lordship my ruins, and  me to be indulged in a perpetual intercourse with
the cascade, and the Chinese bridge, and then  two such objects as Fanny and her sister, and not
we'll go in to breakfast.                    find my heart led by insensible attraction towards
Lord 0. Ruins, did you say, Mr. Sterling?    her?-You seem confounded-Why don't you
Ster. Ay, ruins, my lord! and they are reck- answer me?
oned very fine ones, too. You would think them    Love. Indeed, Sir John, this event gives me
ready to tumble on vour head. It has just cost infinite concern.  Why did not you break this
me a hundred and fifty pounds to put my ruins in  affair to the family before?
thorough repair, This way, if your lordship    Sir J. Under such embarrassed circumstances
pleases.                                     as I have been, can you wonder at my irresolution
Lord O. [Going, stops.] What steeple's that or perplexity   Nothing but despair, the fear of
we see yonder? —the parish church, I suppose.   losing my dear Fanny, could bring me to a deSter. Ha, ha, ha! that's admirable. It is no claration even now; and yet I think I know Mr.
church at all, my lord! it is a spire that I have Sterling so well, that strange as my proposal may
built against a tree, a field or two off, to terminate appear, if I can make it advantageous to him as a
the prospect. One must always have a church, or money transaction, as I am sure I can, he will
an obelisk, or something, to terminate the prospect, certainly come into it.
you know. That's a-rule in taste, my lord!     Love. But even suppose he should, which I
Lord 0. Very ingenious indeed! For my part, very much doubt, I don't think Fanny herself
I desire no finer prospect than this I see before me. would listen to your addresses.




ScENEII.]         THE CLAND-o, INE MARRIAGE.                                       739
Sir J. You are deceived a little in that particu-   Sir J. I know your delicacy, and tremble to
lar.                                         offend it: but let the urgency of the occasion be
Love. You'll find I'm in the right.        my excuse! Consider, Madam, that the future
Sir J. I have some little reason to think other- happiness of my life depends on my present appliwise.                                        cation to you! Consider, that this day must
Love. You have not declared your passion to determine my fate; and these are perhaps the
her already'  only moments left me to incline you to warrant
Sir J. Yes, I have.                        my passion, and to entreat you not to oppose the
Love. Indeed!-And-and —and how did she proposals I mean to open to your father.
receive it?                                   Fan. For shame, for shame, Sir John! Think
Sir J. I think it is not very easy for me to make of your previous engagements! Think of your
my addresses to any woman, without receiving own situation, and think of mine! What have
some little encouragement.                   you discovered in my conduct that might encouLove. Encouragement!-did she give you any rage you to so bold a declaration? I am shocked
encouragement?                              that:you should venture to say so much, and blush
Sir J. I don't know what-you call encourage- that I should even dare to give it a hearing.-Let
mrent-but she blushed-and cried-and desired me be gone.
me not to think of it any more:-upon which I   Sir J. Nay, stay,:Madam, but one moment:Pressed her hand-kissed it-swore she was an your sensibility is too great.-Engagements! what
angel-and I could see it tickled-her to the very engagements have been pretended on either side,
soul.                                        more than those of familv convenience. I went
Love. And did she express no surprise at your on in the trammels of a matrimonial negotiation,
declaration?                                with a blind submission to your father and Lord
Sir J. Why, faith, to say the truth, she was a Ogleby; but my heart soon claimed a right to be
little surprised-and she got away from me too consulted. It has devoted itself to you, and obliges
before I could thoroughly explain myself. If I!me to plead earnestly for the same tender interest
should not meet with an opportunity of speaking in yours.
to her, I must get you to deliver a letter for me.'    Fan. Have a care, Sir John! do not mistake a
Love. I!-a letter!-I had rather have nothing- depraved will for a virtuous inclination. By these
Sir J. Nay, you promised me your assistance-  common pretences of the heart half our sex are
and I am sure you cannot scruple to make your- made fools, and a greater part of yours despise
self useful on such an occasion.-You may, with- them for it.
out suspicion, acquaint her verbally of my deter-   Sir J. Affection, you will allow, is involuntary.
mined affection for her, and that I am resolved to We cannot always direct it to the object on which
ask her father's consent.                    it should fix-but when it is once inviolably attachLove. As to that, I-your commands, you know  ed, inviolably as mine is to you, it often creates
-that is, if she-Indeed, Sir John, I think you reciprocal affection.-When I last urged you on
are in the wrong.                            this subject, you heard me with more temper, and
Sir J. Well-well-that's my concern-Ha! I hoped with some -compassion.
there she goes, by Heaven! along that walk yon-   Fan. You deceived yourself. If I forbore to
der, d'ye see -—'11 go to her immediately!  exert a proper spirit, nay if I did not even express
Love. You are too precipitate. Consider what the quickest resentment at your behaviour, it was
you are doing.                               only in consideration of that respect I wish to pay
Sir J. I would not lose this opportunity for the you in honour to my sister; and be assured, Sir,
universe.                                    woman as I am, that my vanity could reap no
Love. Nay, pray don't go! Your violence and pleasure from a triumph that must result from the
eagerness may overcome her spirits.-The shock blackest treachery to her.          [Going.
will be too much for her.      [Detains him.   Sir J. One word, and I have done. [Stops her.]
Sir J. Nothing shall prevent me-Ha! now  -Your sister, I verily believe, neither entertains
she turns into another walk-Letme go!-[Breaks any real affection for me, or tenderness for you.
front him.] I shall lose her. [Going, turns back.] Your father, I am inclined to think, is not much
Be sure now, to keep out of the way! If you in- concerned by means of which of his daughters the
terrupt us I shall never forgive you. [Exit hastily. families are united. Now as they cannot, shall not,
Love.'Sdeath, I can't bear this. In love with  be connected otherwise than by my union with
my wife! acquaint me with his passion for her! you, why will you, from a false delicacy, oppose a
make his addresses before my face!-I shall break  union so conducive to my happiness, and, I hope,
out before my time.-This was the meaning of your own? I love you, most passionately and sinFanny's uneasiness. She could not encourage him  cerely love you,-and hope to propose terms agreea-I am sure she could not —Ha! they are turning  ble to Mr. Sterling:-If then you don't absolutely
into the walk, and coming this way. Shall I leave loath, abhor, and scorn me-If there is no other
the place?.-Leave him to solicit my wife? I can't happier mansubmit to it.-They come nearer and nearer.-If  PFan. Hear me, Sir; hear my final determinaI stay, it will look suspicious-It may betray us, tion.-Were my father and sister as insensible as
and incense him. —They are here-I must go-I you are pleased to represent them; were my heart
am the most unfortunate fellow in the world!  for ever to remain disengaged to any othei, I
-[Exit. could not listen to your proposals.-What! on the
Re-enter SIR 3 OHN MELVIL and FANNY.      very eve of a marriage with my sister; I, living
under the same roof with her, bound, not only by
Fan. Leave me, Sir John-I beseech you, leave the laws of friendship and hospitality, but even the
me! Nay, why will you persist to follow me with ties of blood, to contribute to her happiness; andl
Idle solicitations, which are an affront to my cha- not to conspire against ner peace, the peace of a
racter, and an injury to your own honour.?   whole family, and that of my own too!-Awav




740              THE CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE.                                    [AT-IIL
away, Sir John!-At such a time, and in such  am determined on a discovery. I dread it. and am
circumstances, your addresses only inspire me resolved to hasten it. It is surrounded wi. more
with horror.-Nay, you must detain me no longer horrors every instant, as it appears every instant
-I will go.                                  more necessary.                      [Exit.
Sir J. Do not leave me in absolute despair!-              ACT III.
Give me a glimpse of hope! [Falls on his knees.
Pan. I cannot.-Pray, Sir John!-                       SCEAE I.-A  Hall.
[Struggles to go. Enter a SERVANT conducting in SERGEANT
Sir J. Shall this hand be given to another!  FLOWER, andCouNseLLoRs TRAVERsE and
[Kisses her hand.] No, I cannot endure it.-My    TRUEMAN, all booted.
whole soul is yours, and the whole happiness of
my life is in your power.                      Ser. This way if you please, gentlemen; my
master is at breakfast with the family at present,
Re-enter MIss STERLING.           but I'll let him know, and he will wait on you
Fan. Ha! my sister is here. Rise, for'shame, immediately.
Sir John.                                      Flow. Mighty well, young man, mighty well.
Sir J. Miss Sterling!             [Rises.   Ser. Please to favour me with your names, genMiss S. I beg pardon, Sir! You'll excuse me, tlemen.
Madam!-I have broke in upon you a little un-   Flow. Let Mr. Sterling know, that Mr. Seropportunely, I believe-but I did not mean to geant Flower, and two other gentlemen of the bar,
interrupt you-I only came, Sir, to let you know  are come to wait on him according to his appointthat breakfast waits, if you have finished your ment.
morning's devotion.                            Ser. I will, Sir.                 [Going
Sir J. I am very sensible, Miss Sterling, that   Flow. And harkye, young man. [SERVANT rethis may appear particular, but-            turns.] Desire my servant, Mr. Sergeant Flower's.1iss S. 0 dear, Sir John, don't put yourself servant, to bring in my green and gold saddleto the trouble of an apology-the thing explains cloth and pistols, and lay them down here in the
itself.                                      hall, with my portmanteau.
Sir J. It will soon, Madam. In the mean time,   Ser. I will, Sir.               [Exit
I can only assure you of my profound respect and   Flow. Well, gentlemen; the settling these maresteem for you,,and make no doubt of convincing riage articles falls conveniently enough, almost
Mr. Sterling of the honour and integrity of my just on the eve of the circuits. Let me see-the
intentions-And-and-your  humble  servant, Home, the Midland, and Western; ay, we can
Madam!                   [Exit in confusion. all cross the country well enough to our several
Miss S. Respect! Insolence! Esteem!-Very  destinations: Traverse, when do you begin at
fine, truly. And you, Madam! my sweet, delicate, Hertford.
innocent, sentimental sister! will you convince my    Tra. The day after to-morrow.
papa too of the integrity of your intentions.  Flow. That is commission-day with us at WarFan. Do not upbraid me, my dear sister! In- wick too; but my clerk has retainers for every
deed, I don't deserve it. Believe me, you can't cause in the paper, so it will be time enough if
be more offended at his behaviour than I am, and I am there next morning. Besides, I have half a
I am sure it cannot make you half so miserable.  dozen cases that have lain by me ever since the,Miss S. Make me miserable! You are mightily spring assizes, and I must tack opinions to them
deceived, Madam; it gives me no sort of uneasi- before I see my country clients again; so I'll take
ness, I assure you. A base fellow! As for you, the evening before me, and then currente calamo,
Miss, the pretended softness of your disposition, as I say, eh, Traverse?
your artful good nature, never imposed upon me.   Tra. True; and pray, Mr. Sergeant, are you
I always knew you to be sly, envious, and deceit- concerned in Jones and Thomas, at Lincoln?
ful.                                           Flow. I am-for the plaintiff.
Pan. Indeed, you wrong me.                   Tra. And what do you think on't?
MIiss S. Oh, you are all goodness, to be sure!   Flow. A nonsuit.
Did not I find him on his knees before you? Did    Tra. I thought so.
not I see him kiss your sweet hand? Did not I   Flow. Oh, no manner of doubt on't-luce clarius
hear his protestations  Was not I a witness of -we have no right in us. We have but one
your dissembled modesty?. No, no, my dear! chance.
don't imagine that you can make a fool of your   Tra. What's that?
elder sister so easily.                        Flow. Why, my lord chief does not go the cirFan. Sir John, I own, is to blame; but I am  cuit this time, and my brother Puzzle being in the
above the thoughts of doing you the least injury.  commission, the cause will come on before him.
MAriss S. We shall try that, Madam. I hope,   ~true. Ay, that may do indeed, if you can but
Miss, you'll be able to give a better account to my throw dust in the eyes of the defendant's counsel.
papa and my aunt, for they shall both know of   Flow. True, Mr. Truemnan, I think you are
this matter, I promise you.          [Exit. concerned for Lord Ogleby in this affair?
Fan. How unhappy I am! my distresses mul-   True. I am, Sir. I have the honour to be retiply upon me. Mr. Lovewell must now become lated to his lordship, and hold some courts for him
acquainted with Sir John's behaviour to me, and in Somersetshire; go to the Western circuit, and
in a manner that may add to his uneasiness. My attend the sessions at Exeter, merely because his
father, instead of being disposed by fortunate cir- lordship's interests and property lie in that part of
cumstances to forgive any transgressions, will be the kingdom.
previously incensed against me. My sister and   Pow. Ha!-and pray, Mr. Triueman, how
my aunt will become irreconcileably my enemies, long have you been called to the bar?
and rejoice in my disgrace. Yet, at all events, I   True. About nine years and three quarters.




CrErEI,.]          THE CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE.                                        741
Flow. Ha! I don't know that I ever had the   Flow. I must be at Warwick, Mr. Sterling, the
pleasure of seeing you before. I wish you success, day after.
young gentleman.                                Ster. Nay, nay, I sha'n't part wiLh you to-night,
Enter STERLING.                gentlemen, I promise you. 1V y house is very full,
but I have beds for you all, beds for your servants,
Ster. Oh, Mr. Sergeant Flower, I am glad to and stabling for all your horses. Will you tal*
see you —your servant, Mr. Sergeant! gentlemen, a turn in the garden, and viewsome of my imyour servant! Well, are all matters concluded? provements before dinner?  Or will you amuse
Has that snail-paced conveyancer, old Ferret of yourselves on the green, with a game at bowls and
Gray's-inn, settled the articles at last?  Do you a cool tankard?  My servants shall attend you.
approve of what he has done? Will his tackle Do you choose any other refreshment 2 Call for
hold, tight, and strong? Eh, master Sergeant?   what you please; do as you please; make yourFlow. My friend Ferret's slow and sure, Sir. selves quite at home, I beg of you. Here, Thomas!
But then, serius aut citius, as we say, sooner or Harry! William! wait on these gentlemen!later, Mr. Sterling, he is sure to put his business [Follows the Lawyers out, bawling and talking,
out of hand as he should do. My clerk has and then returns to Sir John.] And now, Sir, I
brought the writings, and all other instruments, am entirely at your service. What are your comalong with him; and the settlement is I believe as mands with me, Sir John?
good a settlement as any settlement on the face of    Sir J. After having carried the negotiation bethe earth -!                                 tween our families to so great a length; after havSter. But that damned mortgage of sixty thou- ing assented so' readily to all your proposals, as
sand pounds. There don't appear to be any other well as received so many instances of your cheerincumbrances, I hope?                         ful compliance with the demands made on our
Tra. I can answer for that, Sir-and that will part; I am extremely concerned, Mr. Sterling, to
be cleared off immediately on the payment of the be the involuntary cause of any uneasiness.
first part'of Miss Sterling's portion. You agree,   Ster. Uneasiness! what uneasiness?-Where
on your part, to come down with eighty thousand business is transacted as it ought to be, and the
pounds.                                      parties understand one another, there can be no
Ster. Down on the. nail. Ay, ay, my money uneasiness. You agree, on such and such condiis ready to-morrow if he pleases; he shall have it tions, to receive my daughter for a wife; on the
in India bonds, or notes, or how he chooses. Your same conditions I agree to receive you as a son-inlords, and your dukes, and your people at the law; and as to all the rest, it follows of course,
court end of the town, stick at payments some- you know, as regularly as the payment of a bill
times-debts unpaid, no credit lost with them; after acceptance.
but no fear of us substantial fellows-Eh, Mr.   Sir J. Pardon me, Sir, more uneasiness has
Sergeant?                                    arisen than you are aware of. I am myself, at
Flow. Sir John having. last term, occording to this instant, in a state of inexpressible embarrassagreement, levied a fine and suffered a recovery, ment; Miss Sterling, I know, is extremely dishas hitherto cut off the entail of the Ogleby estate, concerted too; and unless you will oblige me with
for the better effecting the purposes of the present the assistance of your friendship, I foresee the
intended marriage; on which above-mentioned speedy progress of discontent and animosity
Ogleby estate, a jointure of two thousand pounds through the whole family.
per annum is secured to your eldest daughter, now    Ster. What the deuce is all this? I don't unElizabeth Sterling, spinster, and the whole estate derstand a single syllable.
after the death of the aforesaid earl, descends to   Sir J. In one word, then-it will be absolutely
the heirs male of Sir John Melvil, on the body of impossible for me to fulfil my engagements in rethe aforesaid Elizabeth Sterling, lawfully to be gard to Miss Sterling.
begotten.                                       Ster. How, Sir John? Do you mean to put an
Tra. Very true; and Sir John is to be put in affront upon my family? What! refuse toimmediate possession of as much of his lordship's   Sir J. Be assured, Sir, that I neither mean to
Somersetshire estate, as lies in the manors of affront nor forsake your family. My only fear is,
Hogmore and Cranford, amounting to between  that you should desert me; for the whole happiness
two and three thousand pounds per annum; and of my life depends on my being connected with
at the death of Mr. Sterling, a further sum of your family, by the nearest and tenderest ties in
seventy thousand-                            the world.
Enter SIR JOHN MELVIL.              XSter. Why, did not you tell me, but a moment
ago, that it was absolutely impossible for you to
Ster. Ah, Sir John! Here we are, hard at it, marry my daughter?
paving the road to matrimony. First the lawyers,   Sir J. True-but you have another daughter,
then comes the doctor. Let us but despatch the Sirlong-robe, we shall soon get pudding-sleeves to   Ster. Well!
work, I warrant you.                            Sir J. Who has obtained the most absolute
Sir J. I am sorry to interrupt you, Sir-but I dominion over my heart. I have already declared
hope that both you and these gentlemen will ex- my passion to her; nay, Miss Sterling herself is
cuse me. Having something very particular for also apprised of it; and if you will but give a sancyour private ear, I took the liberty of following you, tion to my present addresses, the uncommon merit
and beg you will oblige me with an audience im- of Miss Sterling will no doubt recommend her to a
mediately.                    [To STERLING. person of equal, if not superior rank, to myself,
Ster. Ay, with all my heart! Gentlemen, Mr. and our families may still be allied by my union
Sergeant, you'll excuse it; business must be done, with Miss Fanny.
you know. The writings will keep cold till to-   Ster. Mighty fine, truly! Why, what the
morrow morning.                               plague do you make of us, Sir John? Do you




1742              THE' CLAN DESTINE MARRIAGE.                                 [AVT.,l,
come to market for my daughters, like servants at ( pen every day; and as the world has only heard
a statute-fair' Do you think that I will suffer generally of a treaty between the families, when
you, or any man in the worll, to come into my this marriage takes place, nobody will be the wiser,
house, like the grand seignior, and throw the hand- if we have but discretion enough to keep our own
kerchief first to one, and then to t'other, just as counsel.
le pleases? Do you think I drive a kind of Afri-   Ster. True, true; and since you only transfer
can slave-trade with them, and-  from one girl to the other, it is no more than transSir J. A moment's natience, Sir! Nothing but ferring so much stock, you know.
the excess of my passion for Miss Fanny should    Sir J. The very thing!
have induced me to take any step that had the    Ster. Odso! I had quite forgot.-We are reckleast appearance of disrespect to any part of your oning without our host here-there is another
family; and even now I am desirous to atone for difficultymy transgression by making the most adequate    Sir J. You alarm me. What can that be?
compensation that lies in my power.             Ster. I can't stir a step in this business without
Ster. Compensation! what compensation can consulting my sister Heidelberg.-The family has
you possibly make in such a case as this, Sir John? very great expectations from her, and we must not
Sir J. Come, come, Mr. Sterling, I know you give her any offence.
to be man of sense, a man of business, a man of    Sir J. But if you come into this measure, surely
the world. I'll deal frankly with you; and you she will be so kind as to consentshall see that I don't desire a change of measures   Ster. I don't know that, Betsy is her darling,
for my own gratification, without endeavouring to and I can't tell how far she may resent any slight
make it advantageous to you.                  that seems to be offered to her favourite niece.
Ster. What advantage can your inconstancy be However, I'll do the best I can fbr you. You shall
to me, Sir John?                             go and break the matter to her first, and by that
Sir J. I'll tell you, Sir. You know that by the time I may suppose that your rhetoric has prevailed
articles at present subsisting between us, on the on her to listen to reason, I will step in to reinforce
day of my marriage with Miss Sterling, you agree your arguments.
to pay down the gross sum of ei;hty thousand    Sir J. I'll fly to her immediately-you promise
pounds.                                      me your assistance?
Ster. Well!                                  Ster. I do.
Sir J. Now if you will but consent to my way-   Sir J. Ten thousand thanks for it! And now.
ing that marriage-                            success attend me!                  [ Going
Ster. I agree to your waving that marriage    Ster. Harkye, Sir John! [SIR JOHN returns.]
Impossible, Sir John!                         Not a word of the thirty thousand to my sister,
Sir J. I hope not, Sir; as, on my part, I will Sir John.
agree to wave my right to thirty thousand pounds   Sir J. 0, I am dumb, I am dumb, Sir. [Going.
of the fortune I was to receive with her.       Ster. You'll remember it is thirty thousand 2
Ster. Thirty thousand, d'ye say?            Sir J. To be sure I do.
Sir J. Yes, Sir; and accept of Miss Fanny    Ster. But, Sir John! one thing more. [SIa
with fifty thousand, instead of fourscore.   JOHN returns.] My lord must know nothing of
Ster. Fifty thousand-           [Pausing. this stroke of friendship between us.
Sir J. Instead of fourscore.                  Sir J. Not for the world. Let me alone! let
Ster. - Why —why-there may be something in me alone!                     [ Ofering to go.
that.-Let me see-Fanny with fifty thousand,   Ster. [Holding him.] And when every thing
instead of Betsy with fourscore. But how can this is agreed, we must give each other a bond to be
be, Sir John? for you know I am to pay this held fast to the bargain.
moneyinto the hands of my Lord Ogleby; who, I   Sir J. To be sure. A bond, by all means! a
believe, between you and me, Sir John, is not bond, or whatever you please.    [Exit, hastily.
overstocked with ready money at present; and    Ster. I should have thought of more conditions
threescore thousand of it, you know, is to go to -he's in a humour to give me every thing-Why,
pay off the present encumbrances on the estate, what mere children are your fellows of quality, that
Sir John.                                    cry for a plaything one minute and throw it by
Sir J. That objection is easily obviated.-Ten  the next!-as changeable as the weather, and as
of the twenty thousand, which would remain as a uncertain as the stocks.-Special fellows to drive
surplus of the fourscore, after paying off the mort- a bargain! and yet they are to take care of the
gage, was intended by his lordship for my use, that interest of the nation, truly! Here'does this whirliwe might set off with some little eclat on our mar- gig man of fashion offer to give up thirty thousand
riage; and the other ten for his own. Ten thou- pounds in hard money, with as much indifference
sand pounds therefore I shall he able to pay you as if it was a china orange. By this mortgage I
Immediately; and for the remaining twenty thou- shall have a hold on his terra firma; and if he
sand, you shall have a mortgage on that part of the wants more money, as he certainly will, let him
estate which is to be made over to me, with what- have children by my daughter or no, I shall have
ever security you shall require for the regular his whole estate in a net for the benefit of my
payment of the interest, till the principal is duly family.-Well, thus it is; that the children of
discharged.:                citizens who have acquired fortunes, prove persons
* Ster. Why-to do you justice, Sir John. there of fashion; and thus it is, that persons of fashion
is something fair and open in your proposal; and who have ruined their fortunes, reduce the next
since I find you do not mean to put an affront upon generation to cits.            [Exit.
the familySir J. Nothing was ever further from my          SCEr NE ID.-Another Apartment.
thoughts, Mr. Sterling. And, after all, the whole Enter MRS. HEIDELBERG and MIss STERLING
affair is nothing extraordinary-such things hap-   Aliss S. This is your gentle-looking, soft.




SCENt n,].       THE: CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE.                                        743
speaking, sweet-smiling, affable, Miss Fanny, for   Miss S. As I live, Madam, yonder comes Sii
you!                                        John. A base man! I can't endure the sight of
Airs. H. My Miss Fanny! I disclaim her.- him. I'll leave the room this instant. [Disordered
With all her arts, she never could insinuate her-   Mrs. H. Poor thing! Well, retire to your own
self into my good graces; and yet she has a way chamber, child! I'll give it him, I warrant you;
with her, that deceives man, woman, and child, and by and by I'll come and let you know all that
except you and me, niece.                    has past between us..Miss S. 0 ay-she wants nothing but a crook    Miss S. Pray do, Madam.-[Looking back.]in her hand, and a lamb under her arm, to be a A vile wretch!             [ Exit, in a rage.
perfect picture of innocence and simplicity.             nter S
Mrs. H. Just as I was drawn at Amsterdam,
when I went over to visit my husband's relations.   Sir J. Your most obedient, humble servant,
Miss S. And then she's so mighty good to Madam.                [Bowing very respectfully.
servants-" Pray, John, do this-pray, Thomas,   Mrs. H. Your servant, Sir John.
do that-thank you, Jenny"-and then so humble         [Dropping a half courtesy, and pouting.
to her relations-" To be sure, papa-as my aunt   Sir J. Miss Sterling's manner of quitting the
pleases-my sister knows best."  But with all her room on my approach, and the visible coolness of
demureness and humility, she has no objection to your behaviour to me, Madam, convince me that
be LaAy Melvil, it seems, nor to any wickedness she has acquainted you with what passed this
that can make her so.                        morning.
Mrs. H. She lady Melvil! compose yourself,   AIrs. H. I am very sorry, Sir John, to be made
niece! I'll ladyship her, indeed;-a little creppin, acquainted with any thing that should induce me
cantin-She sha'n't be the better for a farden of to change the opinion which I would always wish
my money. But tell me, child, how does this to entertain of a person of qualaty.    [Pouting.
intriguing with Sir John correspond with her par-   Sir J. It has always been my ambition to merit
tiality to Lovewell? I don't see a concatunation  the best opinion from Mrs. Heidelberg; and when
here.                                        she comes to weigh circumstances, I flatter my-.Miss S. There I was deceived, Madam. I took selfall their whisperings and stealings into corners, to    Mrs. H. You do flatter yourself, if you imagine
be the mere attraction of vulgar minds; but, be- that I can approve of your behaviour to my niece,
hold! their private meetings were not to contrive Sir John.-And give me leave to tell you. Sir John,
their own insipid happiness, but to conspire against that you have been drawn into an action much
mine. But I know whence proceeds Mr. Love- beneath you, Sir John; and that I look upon every
well's resentment to me. I could not stoop to be injury offered to Miss Betty Sterling, as an affront
familiar with my father's clerk, and so I have to myself, Sir John.             [ Warmly.
lost his interest.                              Sir J. I would not offend you for the world,
Ai~rs. H. My spurit to a T.-My dear child! Madam; but when I am influenced by a partiality
[Kisses her.]-Mr. Heidelberg lost his election for for another, however ill-founded, I hope your dismember of parliament, because I would not demean  cernment and good sense will think it rather a
myself to be slobbered about by drunken shoe- point of honour to renounce engagements which I
makers, beastlycheese-mongers, and tallow-chand- could not fulfil so strictly as I ought; and that you
lers. However, niece, I can't help diffuring a little will excuse the change in my inclinations, since
in opinion from you in this matter. My experunce the new object, as well as the first, has the honour
and sagacity makes me still suspect that there is of being your niece, Madam.
something more between her and that Lovewell,   1lirs. H: I disclaim her as a niece, Sir John;
notwithstanding this affair of Sir John. I had my Miss Sterling disclaims her as a sister; and the
eye upon them the whole time of breakfast. Sir whole fammaly must disclaim her, for her monJohn, I observed, looked a little confounded indeed, strous baseness and treachery.
though I knew nothing of what had passed in the    Sir J. Indeed she has been guilty of none, Magar,{en. You seemed to sit upon thorns too; but dam. Her hand and her heart are, I am sure,
Falrny and Mr. Lovewell made quite another- entirely at the disposal of yourself and Mr. Sterguess sort of a figur! and were as perfect a pictur ling. And if you should not oppose my inclinaof two distrest lovers as if it had been drawn by tions, I am sure of Mr. Sterling's consent, Madam.
Raphael Angelo. As to Sir John and Fanny, I   Mrs. H. Indeed?
want a matter of fact.                         Sir J. Quite certain, Madam.
Miss S. Matter of fact, Madam! Did not I comeEnter STERLING.
unexpectedly upon theme  Was not Sir John
kneeling at her feet, and kissing her hand? Did   Ster. [Behind.] So! they seem to be coming
not he look all love, and she all confusion?  Is not to terms already. I may venture to make my apthat matter of fact  and did not Sir John, the pearance.
moment that papa was called out of the room to   AMrs. H. To marry Fanny?
the lawyer-men, get up from breakfast, and follow                     [STERLING advances.
him immediately   And I warrant you that by    Sir J. Yes, Madam.
this time he has made proposals to him to marry    Mrs. El. My brother has given his consent, you
my sister-Oh, that some other person, an earl or say 1
a duke, would make his addresses' to me, that I   Sir.L. In the most ample manner, with no other
might be revenged on this monster!           restriction than the failure of your concurrence,
Mirs. H. Be cool, child! you shall be Lady  Madam. [Sees STERLING.]-Oh, here's Mr.
Melvil, in spite of all their caballins, if it costs me Sterling, who will confirm what I have told you.
ten thousand pounds to turn the scale. Sir John    Mrs. H. What! have you consented to give up
may apply to my brother,, indeed; but I'll make your eldest daughter in this manner, brother?
them all know who governs in this fammaly.      Ster., Give her up, Heaven forbid! no, not glee




744               THE CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE.                                   [ACTrI.
her up, sister; only in the case that you-Zounds,   Ster. I! Nay, I sha'n't hear of it, I promise
I am afraid you have said too much, Sir John.   you.-I can't hear of it indeed, Sir John.
[Apart to SIR JOHN.   Mrs. H. But you have heard of it, brother SterMUrs. H. Yes, yes; I see now that it is true ling-You know you have, and sent Sir John to
enough what my niece told me. You are all propose it to me. But if you can give up your
plottin and caballin against her. Pray, does Lord daughter, I sha'n't forsake my niece, I assure you.
Ogleby know of this affair?                 -Ah, if my poor dear Mr. Heidelberg and our
Sir J. I have not yet made him acquainted sweet babes had been alive, he would not have
with it, Madam.                              behaved so.
Mrs. H. No, I warrant you.  I thought so.   Ster. Did I, Sir John?-Nay, speak!-Bring
And so his lordship and myself, truly, are not to me off, or we are ruined.   [Apart to SIR JOHN.
be consulted till the last.                    Sir J. Why to be sure, to speak the truthSter. What! did not you consult my lord? oh,    PiMrs. H. To speak the truth!-To speak tho
fy for shame, Sir John!                     truth, I'm ashamed of you both.-But have a care
Sir J. Nay, but Mr. Sterling-             what you are about, brother! have a care, I say.
Mrs. H. We, who are the persons of most con- The counsellors are in the house, I hear; and if
sequence and experunce in the two fammalies, are every thing is not settled to my liking, I'll have
to know nothing of the matter, till the whole is as nothing more to say to you, if I live these hundred
good as concluded upon. But his lordship I am  years-I'll go over to Holland, and settle with Mr.
sure, will have more generosaty than to counten- Vanderspracken, my poor husband's first cousin,
ance such a perceding. And I could not have and my own fammaly shall never be the better for
expected such behaviour from a person of your a farden of my money, I promise you.    [Exit.
qualaty, Sir John. And as for you, brother-    Ster. I thought so. I knew she would never
Ster. Nay, nay, but hear me, sister.      agree to it.
M/irs. H. I am perfectly ashamed of you-Have    Sir J.'Sdeath, how unfortunate! What can
you no spurrit? No more concern for the honour we do, Mr. Sterling.
of our fammaly than to consent.-               Ster. Nothing.
Ster. Consent! I consent! As I hope for mercy,   Sir J. What, must our agreement break off the
I never gave my consent-Did I consent, Sir moment it is made, then?
John?                                         Ster. It can't be helped, Sir John.-The family,
Sir J. Not absolutely, without Mrs. Heidel- as I told you before, have great expectations from
berg's concurrence. - But in case of her approba. my sister; and if this matter proceeds, you hear
tion-                                        yourself that she threatens to leave us.-My
Ster. Ay, in case I grant you, that is, if my brother Heidelberg was a warm man-a very warm
sister approved-But that's quite another thing, man, and died worth a plum at least:-a plum!
you know-            [ To MRS. HEIDELBERG. ay, I warrant you, he died worth a plum and a half.
Mrs. H. Your sister approve, indeed!-I thought   Sir J. Well; but if I —
yOI knew her better, brother Sterling! —What!   Ster. And then, my sister has three or four very
approve of having your eldest daughter returned good mortgages, a deal of money in the three per
upon your hands, and exchanged for the younger? cents. and old South Sea annuities, besides large
I am surprised how you could listen to such a concerns in the Dutch and French funds. The
scandalous proposal.                         greatest part of all this she means to leave to our
Ster. I tell you, I never did listen to it.-Did  family.
not I say, that I would be entirely governed by my    Sir J. I can only say, Sirsister, Sir John?-And unless she agreed to your   Ster. Why, your offer of the difference of thirty
marrying Fanny-                             thousand was very fair and handsome, to be sure,'Mrs. H. I agree to his marrying Fanny.!-  Sir John.,abominable!-The man is absolutely out of his   Sir J. Nay, but I am willing tosenses.-Can't that wise head of yours foresee the   Ster. Ay, but if I was to accept it against her
consequence of all this, brother Sterling? Will will, I might lose above a hundred thousand; so
Sir John take Fanny without a fortune?-No!- you see the balance is against you, Sir John.
After you have settled the largest part of your   Sir J. Suppose I was to prevail on Lord Ogleby
property on your youngest daughter, can there be to apply to her, do you think that would have any
an equal portion left for the eldest I-No!-Does influence over her?
not this overturn the whole system of the fammaly?   Ster. I think he would be more likely to persuade
— Yes, yes, yes!                           her to it than any other person in the family. She
Ster. Do you see now what you've done?-  has a great respect for Lord Ogleby. She loves a
Don't betray me, Sir John. [Apart to SIR JOHN. lord.
Mrs. H. You know, I was always for my niece   Sir J. I'll apply to him this very day.-And if
Betsy's marrying a person of the very first qualaty. he should prevail on Mrs. Heidelberg, I may deThat was by maxumn:-and, therefore, much the pend on your friendship, Mr. Sterling?
largest settlement was of course to be made upon    Ster. Ay, ay, I shall be glad to oblige you, when
her. As for Fanny, if she could, with a fortune it is in my power, but as the account stands now,
of twenty or thirty thousand pounds, get a knight, you see it is not upon the figures. And so your
or a member of parliament, or a rich common servant, Sir John?                [Exeunt.
council-man, fbr a husband, I thought it might do             ACT IV.
very well.
Sir J. But if a better match should offer itself,     SCENE I-A Room.
why should it not be accepted, Madam?       Enter MR. STERLING, MRS. HEIDELBERG, ana
Mlrs. M. What! at the expense of her elder               Miss STERLING.
slster?-0 fy, Sir John!-How could you bear   Ster. What! will you send Fanny to town
to hear such an indignaty, brother Sterling?  sister?




ScOEcinII.]        THE CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE.                                        745
Mrs. H. To-morrow morning. I've given orders no objection to dat, I believe, nor Mademoiselle
about it already.                            neither too-ha, ha, ha!
Ster. Indeed!                                Lord 0. Pr'ythee hold thy foolish tongue, Cant.
Mrs. H. Posatively.                        Does thy Swiss stupidity imagine, that I can see
Ster. But consider, sister, at such a time as this, and talk with a fine girl without desires?-My
what an odd appearance it will have.         eyes are involuntarily attracted by beautiful objects
Mrs. H. Not half so odd as her behaviour, broth- -I fly as naturally to a fine girl.
er.-This time was intended for happiness, and    Can. As de fine girl to you, mi lor, ha, ha, ha I
I'll keep no incendiaries here to destroy it. I insist you always fly togeder like un pair de pigeonson her going off to-morrow morning.            Lord O. Like un pair de pigeons-[MCocks him.]
Ster. I'm afraid this is all your doing, Betsy?   Vous etes un sot, Monsieur Canton.-Thou art
Miss S. No indeed, papa.  My aunt knows always dreaming of my intrigues, and never see'st
that it is not.-For all Fanny's baseness to me, I me badiner, but you suspect mischief, you old fool
am sure I would not do or say any thing to hurt you.
her with you or my aunt, for the world.         Can. I am fool, 1 confess, but not always fool
AIrs. H. Hold your tongue, Betsy; I will have in dat, mi lor, he, he, he!
my way. When she is packed off, every thing   Lord 0. He, he, he!-Thou art incorrigible,
will go on as it should do. Since they are at their but thy absurdities amuse one. Thou art like my
intrigues, I'll let them see that we can act with rappee here, [ Takes out his box.] a most ridicuvigour on our part; and the sending her out of lous superfluity; but a pinch of thee now and then
the way, shall be the perluminary step to all the is a more delicious treat.
rest of my percedings.                          Can. You do me great honneur, mi lor.
Ster. Well, but, sister-                     Lord 0.'Tis fact, upon my soul. Thou art
Mrs. H. It does not signify talking, brother properly my cephalic snuff, and art no bad mediSterling, for I'm resolved to be rid of her, and I cine against megrims, vertigoes, and profound
will.-Come along, child. [To Miss STERLING.] thinking-ha, ha, ha!
The post-shay shall be at the door by six o'clock    Can. Your flatterie, mi lor, vil make me too
in the morning; and if Miss Fanny does not get prode.
into it, why I will-and so there's an end of the   Lord 0. The girl has some little partiality for
matter. [Bounces out with Miss STERLING, then me, to be sure: but pr'ythee, Cant. is not that
returns.] One word more, brother Sterling —I Miss Fanny yonder?
expect that you will take your eldest daughter in   Can. [Looks with a glass.] Ah!-la voila! En
your hand, and make a formnal complaint to Lord verite,'tis she, mi lor-'tis one of de pigeons-de
Ogleby of Sir John Melvil's behaviour.-Do this, pigeons d'amour.
brother; show a proper regard for the honour of   Lord O. Don't be ridiculous, you old monkey.
your fammaly yourself, and I shall throw in my                                    [Smiles.
mite to the raising of it. If not-but now you    Can. I am monkee, I am ole; but I have eye,
know my mind. So act as you please, and take I have ear, and a little understand, now and den.
the consequences.                     [Exit.   Lord O. Tdisez-vous, bete!
Ster. The devil's in the women for tyranny!-    Can. Elle vous attend, mi lor. She vil make a
Mothers, wives, mistresses, or sisters, they always love to you.
will govern us. As to my sister Heidelberg, she   Lord 0. Will she? Have at her then!  A
knows the strength of her purse, and domineers fine girl can't oblige me more-Egad, I find myupon the credit of it.-" I will do this," and " you self a little enjoue-Come along, Cant.! she is but
shall do that," and "you shall do t'other-or else in the next walk —but there is such a deal of this
the fammaly sha'n't have a farden of" [Mimick- damned crinkum-crankum, as Sterling calls it,
ing.] So absolute.with her money!-But, to say that one sees people for half an hour before one
the truth, nothing but money can make us absolute, can get to them-Allons, Monsieur Canton, allons,
and so we must e'en make the best of her. [Exit. done!                   [Exeunt, singing.
SCENE II.- The Garden.                SCENE III.-Another part of the Garden.
Enter LORD OGLEBY and CANTON.                  Enter LOVEWELL and FANNY.
Lord 0. What! Mademoiselle Fanny to be   Love. My dear Fanny, I cannot bear your dism
sent away?-Why?-Wherefore?-What's the tress; it overcomnes all my resolutions, and I am
meaning of all this'               prepared for the discovery.
Can. Je ne s9ais pas-I know nothing of it.   Fan. But how can it be effected before my deLord 0. It can't be-it sha'n't be: I protest parturee 
against the measure. She's a fine girl, and I had    Love. I'll tell you.-Lord Ogleby seems to enmuch rather that the rest of the family were anni- tertain a visible partiality for you; and notwithhilated, than that she should leave us.-Her vulgar standing the peculiarities of his behaviour, I am
father, that's the very abstract of'Change-alley- sure that he is humane at the bottom. He is vain
the aunt, that's always endeavouring to be a fine to an excess; but withal extremely good-natured,
lady-and the pert sister, for ever showing that and would do any thing to recommend himself to
she is one, are horrid company indeed, and with- a lady.-Do you open the whole affair of our marout her would be intolerable. Ah la petite Fan- riage to him immediately. It will come with more
chon! she's the thing; isn't she, Canton?  irresistible persuasion from you than from myself;
Can. Dere is very good sympatie entre vous and I doubt not but you'll gain his friendship and
and dat young lady, mi lor.                  protection at once. His influence and authority
Lord 0. I'll not be left among these Goths and  will put an end to Sir John's solicitations, remove
Vandals; your Sterlings, your Heidelbergs, and your aunt's and sister's unkindness and suspicions,
Devilbergs-if she goes, I'll positively go too.  and, I hope, reconcile your father and the whole
Can. In de same post-chay, my lor? You have family to our marriage.
Voi,.... 5 B       63




746               THE CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE.                                    [ACT I,
Fan. Heaven grant it! Where is my lord     to you by all the laws of sympathy and Jelicacy. -
Love. I have heard him and Canton, since  By my honour, I am.
dinner, singing French songs under the great   Fan. Then I will venture to unburden my
walnut-tree by the parlour door. If you meet mind-Sir John Melvil, my lord, by the most niswith him in the garden, you may disclose the placed and mistimed declaration of affection for
whole immediately. To-morrow morning is fixed  me, has made me the unhappiest of women.
for your departure, and if we lose this opportunity,   Lord 0. How, Madam? Has Sir John made
we may wish in vain for another.-He approaches his addresses to you?
-I must retire.-Speak, my dear Fanny, speak,   Fan. He has, my lord, in the strongest terms
and make us happy!                    [Exit. But I hope it is needless to say that my duty to
Fan. What shall I do? What shall I say to my father, love to my sister, and regard to the
him? I am all confusion.                     whole family, as well as the great respect I enterEnter LORD OGLEBY and CANTON.          tain for your lordship, [Courtesies.] made me
shudder at his addresses.
Lord 0. To see so much beauty so solitary,   Lord 0. Charming girl!-Proceed, my dear
Madam, is a satire upon mankind, and'tis fortu- Miss Fanny, proceed!
nate that one man has broke in upon your reverie,   Fan. In a moment-give me leave, my lord!for the credit of our sex. I say one, Madam; for But if what I have to disclose should be received
poor Canton here, from age and infirmities, stands with anger or displeasurefor nothing.                                   Lord 0. Impossible, by all the tender powers!
Caorn. Noting at all, indeed.              -Speak, I beseech you, or I shall divine the
Fan. Your lordship does me great honour.-I cause before you utter it.
had a favour to request, my lord!             Fan. Then, my lord, Sir John's addresses are
Lord 0. A favour, Madam?-To be honoured not only shocking to me in themselves, but are
with your commands is an inexpressible favour more particularly disagreeable to me at this timedone to me, Madam.                           as-as-                            [Hesitates.
Fan. If your lordship could indulge me with    Lord O. As what, Madam?
the honour of a moment's-What's the matter   Fan. As-pardon my confusion-I am entirely
with me?                            [Aside. devoted to another.
Lord 0. The girl's confused —Hey!-here's   Lord 0. If this is not plain, the devil's in it.
something in the wind, faith-I'll have a tete-a- [Aside.] But tell me, my dear Miss Fanny, for I
tete with her. [Aside.]-Allez-vous en!       must know; tell me the how, the when, and the
[To CANTON. where-Tell meCan. I go-Ah. pauvre Mademoiselle! My                Re-enter CANTON, hastily.
lor, have piti6 upon the poor pigeone!
[Apart to LORD 0.   Can. My lor, my lor, my lor!
Lord 0. I'll knock you down, Cant. [Smiles.   Lord 0. Damn your Swiss impertinence! how
Can. Den I go-[Shuffles along.]-You are durst you interrupt me in the most critical, meltmosh please, for all dat.      [Aside. Exit. ing moment that ever love and beauty honoured
Fan. I shall sink with apprehension. [Aside. me with?
Lord 0. What a sweet girl!-she's a civilized    Can. I demande pardonne, my lor! Sir John
being, and atones for the barbarism of the rest of  Mlelvil, my lor, sent me to beg you do him de
the family.                          [Aside. honneur to speak a little to you, my lor.
Fan. My lord! I-[ Courtesies and blushes.   Lord 0. I'm not at leisure-I am busy-Get
Lord O. I look upon it, Madam, to be one of away, you stupid old dog, you Swiss rascal, or
the luckiest circumstances of my life, that I have I'llat this moment the honour of receiving your cornm-   Can. Fort bien, my lor.  [Goes out on tiptoe.
mands, and the satisfaction of confirming with my    Lord 0. By the laws of gallantry, Madam,
tongue what my eyes perhaps have but too weakly  this interruption should be death; but as no punexpressed-that I am literally the humblest of ishment ought to disturb the triumph of the softer
your servants.                               passions, the criminal is pardoned and dismissed.
Fan. I think myself greatly honoured by your Let us return, Madam, to the highest luxury of
lordship's partiality to me; but it distresses me exalted minds-a declaration of' love from the lips
that I am obliged, in my present situation, to apply  of beauty.
to it for protection.                          Fan. The entrance of a third person has a little
Lord 0. I am happy in your distress, Madam, relieved me, but I cannot go through with it; and
because it gives me an opportunity to show my yet I must open my heart with a discovery, or it
zeal.-Beauty to me is a religion in which I was will break with its burden.       [Aside.
born and bred a bigot, and would die a martyr.-   Lord 0. What passion in her eyes! I am
I'm in tolerable spirits, faith!     [Aside. alarmed to agitation. [Aside.] I presume, Madam,
Fan. There is not, perhaps, at this moment, a (and as you have flattered me, by making me a
more distressed creature than myself. Affection, party concerned, I hope you'll excuse the preduty, hope, despair, and a thousand different sen- sumption,) that
timents, are struggling in my bosom; and even    Fan. Do you excuse my making you a party
the presence of your lordship, to whom I have concerned, my lord, and let re interest your heart
flown for protection, adds to my perplexity.  in my behalf, as my fiuture happiness or misery in
Lord 0. Does it, Madam?-Venus forbid!-d a great measure depend —
My old fault; the devil's in me, I think, for per-   Lord 0. Upon me, Madam?
plexing young women. [Aside, and smiling.]    Fan. Upon you, my lord..     Sighs
Take courage, Madam! dear Miss Fanny, ex-   Lord 0. There's no standing this: I have
plain.-You have a powerful advocate in my breast, caught the infection-her tenderness dissolves
I assure you-my heart, Madam:-I am attached I me.                                 [Sighs.




1SCENE IIs.j:THE CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE.                                         747
Pan. And should you too severely judge of a   Ster. With all my heart, my lord.
rash action, which passion prompted, and modesty   Lord 0. You see, Mr. Sterling, we can make
has long concealed-                         no union in our families by the proposed marLord O. [Takes her hand.] Thou amiable riage.
creature, command my heart, for it is vanquished.   Ster. And I am very sorry to see it, my lord.
Speak but thy virtuous wishes, and enjoy them.    Lord 0. Have you set your heart upon being
Fan. I cannot, my lord; indeed, I cannot. Mr. allied to our house, Mr. Sterling?
Lovewell must tell you my distresses; and when    Ster.'Tis my only wish at present, my omniunt,
you know them, pity and protect me. [Exit in tears. as I may call it.
Lord O. How the devil could I bring her to   Lord 0. Your wishes shall be fulfilled.
this?  It is too much-too much-I can't bear it   Ster. Shall they, my lord? but how-how?
-I must give way to this amiable weakness.   Lord 0. I'll marry in your family.
[Wipes his eyes.] My heart overflows with sym-   Ster. What! my sister Heidelberg?
pathy, and I feel every tenderness I have inspired.   Lord 0. You throw me into a cold sweat, Mr.
[Stifes a tear.] Can I be a man and withstand  Sterling. No, not your sister, but your daughter,
it? No-I'll sacrifice the whole sex to her. But   Ster. My daughter?
here comes the father, quite a-propos. I'll open   Lord 0. Fanriy!-now the murder's out!
the matter immediately, settle the business with    Ster. What you, my lord!
him, and take the sweet girl down to Ogleby-   Lord 0. Yes, I, I, Mr. Sterling.
house to-morrow morning. But what the devil!   Ster. No, no, my Lord; that's too much.
Miss Steiling too! What mischief's in the wind                                  [Smiles.
now! No conquest there-no, no, that would be   Lord 0. Too much! [ don't comprehend you.
too much desolation to the family.             Ster. What you, my lord, marry my Fanny.
Enter STERLING and Miss STERLING.       Bless me! what will the folks say?
Lord 0. Why, what will they say?
Ster. My lord, your servant! I am attending    Ster. That you are a bold man, my lord;
my daughter here upon rather a disagreeable af- that's all.
fair. Speak to his lordship, Betsy.           Lord 0. Mr. Sterling, this may be city wit,
Lord 0. Your eyes, Miss Sterling, for I always for aught I know. Do you court my alliance'
read the eyes of a young lady, betray some little   Ster. To be sure, my lord.
emotion. What are your commands, Madam'l      Lord O. Then I'll explain-My nephew wont
MlMiss S. I have but too much cause for my marry your eldest daughter, nor I neither.-Your
emotion, my lord!                          youngest daughter wont marry him; I will marry
Lord 0. I cannot commend my kinsman's be- your youngest daughter.
haviour, Madam. He has behaved like a false   Ster. What! with a youngest daughter's forknight, I must confess. I have heard of his apos- tune, my lord?
tacy. Miss Fanny has informed me of it.       Lord 0. With any fortune, or no fortune at
Miss S. Miss Fanny's baseness has been the all, Sir. Love is the idol of my heart, and the
cause of Sir John's inconstancy.            demon interest sinks before him. So, Sir, as I
Lord 0. Nay now, my dear Miss Sterling, said before, I will marry your youngest daughter;
your passion transports you too far. Sir John your youngest daughter will marry me.
may have entertained a passion for Miss Fanny,   Ster. Who told you so, my lord?
but believe me, my dear Miss Sterling, believe   Lord 0. Her own sweet self, Sir
me, Miss Fanny has no passion for Sir John.   Ster. Indeed!
She has a passion, indeed, a most tender passion.   Lord 0. Yes, Sir; our affection is mutual;
She has opened her whole soul to me, and I know  your advantage double and treble; your daughter
where her affections are placed.   [Conceitedly. will be a countess directly-I shall be the happiest
Mriss S. Not upon Mr. Lovewell, my lord.    of beings, and you'll be a father to an earl instead
Lord 0. Lovewell! no, poor lad! she does not of a baronet.
think of him. [Smiles.] I know better: however,   Ster. But what will my sister say? and my
a little time will solve all mysteries.     daughter?
Miss S. Have a care, my lord, that both the   Lord 0. I'll manage that matter; nay, if they
-families are not made the dupes of Sir John's wont consent, I'll run away with your daughter
artifice, and my sister's dissimulation!  You in spite of you.
don't know  her; indeed, my lord, you don't   Ster. Well said, my lord! your spirit's good;
know her; a base, insinuating, perfidious!-It is I wish you had my constitution; but if you'll
too much-She has been beforehand with me, I venture, I have no objection, if my sister has
perceive, endeavouring to prejudice your lordship none.
in her favour; and I am to be laughed at by every   Lord 0. I'll answer for your sister, Sir.body. Such unnatural behaviour to me! But A-propos, the lawyers are in the house. I'll have
since I see I can have no redress, I am resolved articles drawn, and the whole affair concluded tothat some way or other I will have revenge. [Exit. morrow morning.
Ster. This is foolish work, my lord!        Ster. Very well! and I'll despatch Lovewell
Lord 0. I have too much sensibility to bear to London immediately for some fresh papers I
the tears of beauty.                        shall want; you must excuse me, my lord, but 1
Ster. It is touching, indeed, my lord; and very can't help laughing at the match.-He, he, he!
moving for a father.                        what will the folks say?             [Exit.
Lord 0. To be sure, Sir! You, with your ex-   Lord 0. What a fellow am I going to make a
quisite feelings, must be distressed beyond mea- father of! He has no more feeling than the post
sure! Wherefore, to divert your too exquisite in his warehouse-But Fanny's virtues tune me
reeling, suppose we change the subject, and pro- to rapture again, and I won't think of the rest cf
ceed to business.                           the family.




748               THE CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE.                                     [ACT V.
Re-enter LOVEWELL, hastily.            Lord 0. Miss Fanny Sterling that is; the
Love. I beg your lordship's pardon; are you countess of Ogleby that shall be.
alone, my lord?                                 Love. I am astonished!
Lord 0. No, my lord, I am not alone; I am in    Lord 0. Why, could you expect less from mel
tompany, the best company.                      Love. I did not expect this, my lord.
Love. My lord!                                Lord 0. Trade and accounts have destroyed
Lord 0. I never was in such exquisite, enchant- your feeling.
ing company since my heart first conceived, or my    Love. No indeed, my lord.     [Sighs.
senses tasted, pleasure.                        Lord 0. The moment that love and pity enterLove. Where are they, my lord?-           ed my breast, I was resolved to plunge into matri[Looks about. mony, and shorten the girl's tortures-I never do
Lord 0. In my mind's eye, Horatio.         any thing by halves, do I, Lovewell?
Love. What company have you there, my lord Q   Love. No indeed, my lord. [Sighs.] What an
[Smiles.  accident!                           [Aside.
Lord 0. My own ideas, Sir, which so crowd    Lord 0. What's the matter, Lovewelld thou
upon my imagination, and kindle in it such a de- seem'st to have lost thy faculties.  Why don't
lirium of ecstacy, that wit, wine, music, poetry, all you wish me joy, man?
combined, and each in perfection, are but mere   Love. O, I do, my lord.           [Sighs.
mortal shadows of my felicity.                  Lord 0. She said that you would explain what
Love. I see that your lordship is happy, and I she had not power to utter; but I wanted no inrejoice at it.                               terpreter for the language of love.
Lord 0. You shall rejoice at it, Sir; my felicity    Love. But has your lordship considered the
shall not selfishly be confined, but shall spread its consequences of your resolution?
influence to the whole circle of my friends. I need   Lord 0. No, Sir, I am above consideration,
not say, Lovewell, that you shall have your share when my desires are kindled.
of it.                                          Love. But consider the consequences, my lord,
Love. Shall I, my lord?-then I understand  to your nephew, Sir John.
you; you have heard. Miss Fanny has informed    Lord 0. Sir John has considered no conseyou-                                         quences himself, Mr. Lovewell.
Lord O. She has; I have heard, and she shall   Love. Mr. Sterling, my lord, will certainly
be happy;'tis determined.                   refuse his daughter to Sir John.
Love. Then I have reached the summit of my    Lord O. Sir John has already refused Mr.
wishes. And will your lordship pardon the folly? Sterling's daughter.
Lord 0. 0 yes, poor creature, how could she   Love. But what will become of Miss Sterling,
help it?'Twas unavoidable-fate and necessity. my lord?
Love. It was indeed, my lord. Your kindness   Lord O. What's that to you? You may have
distracts me.                                her, if you will. I depend upon Mr. Sterling's
Lord 0. And so it did the poor girl, faith.  city philosophy to be reconciled to Lord Ogleby's
Love. She trembled to disclose the secret, and  being his son-in-law, instead of Sir John Melvil,
declare her affections.                       baronet. Don't you think that your master may
Lord 0. The world, I believe, will not think  be brought to that, without having recourse to his
her affections ill placed.                   calculations, eh, Lovewell?
Love. [Bows.] You are too good, my lord.-    Love. But, my lord, that is not the question.
And do you really excuse the rashness of the   Lord 0. Whatever is the question, I'll tell you
action?                                     my answer. I am in love with a fine girl, whom
Lord 0. From my very soul, Lovewell.       I resolve to marry.
Love. [Bows.] I was afraid of her meeting withEnter SIR JOHN MELVIL.
a cold reception.
Lord 0. More fool you then-                What news with you, Sir John? You look all
Who pleads her cause with never failing beauty, hurry and impatience-like a messenger after a
Here finds a full redress.  [Strikes his breast. battle.
She's a fine girl, Lovewell.                   Sir J. After a battle indeed, my lord. I have
Love. Her beauty, my lord, is her least merit. this day had a severe engagement; and wanting
She has an understanding-                    your lordship as an auxiliary, I have at last
Lord 0. Her choice convinces me of that.   mustered up resolution to declare what my duty
Love. [Bows.] That's your lordship's good- to you and to myself have demanded from me some
ness. Her choice was a disinterested one.    time.
Lord 0. No, no, not altogether; it began with    Lord 0. To the business then, and be as coninterest, and ended in passion.              cise as possible, for I am upon the wing-eh,
Love. Indeed, my lord, if you were acquainted  Lovewell!    [Smiles, and. LOVEWELL bows.
with her goodness of heart, and generosity of mind,   Sir J. I find'tis in vain my lord, to struggle
as well as you are with the inferior beauties of against the force of inclination.
her face and person                            Lord 0. Very true, nephew; I am your witLord 0. I am so perfectly convinced of their ex- ness, and will second the motion-sha'n't I, Loveistence, and so totally of your mind, touching every well?, [Smiles, and LOVEWELT, bows.
amiable particular of that sweet girl, that were it   Sir.J. Your lordship's generosity encourages
not for the cold, unfeeling impediments of the law, me to tell you that I cannot marry Miss Sterling.
I would marry her to-morrow morning.           Lord 0. I am not at all surprised at it-she's
Love My lord!                             a bitter potion, that's the truth of it; but as you
Lord 0. I would, by all that's honourable in were to swallow it, and not I, it was ybur business,
man, and amiable in woman.                   and not mine. Any thing more?
Love. Marry her!-Whodo you mean my lord?   Sir J. But this, my lord; that I may be




sVENE.]            THE CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE.                                      749
permitted to make my addresses to the other   Fan. Hark!-hark! bless me, how I tremble!
sister.                                      -I feel the terrors of guilt. Indeed, Mr. LoveLord 0. 0 yes, by all means-have you any well, this is too much for me-this situation may
hopes there, nephew. Do you think he'll succeed, have very unhappy consequences.  [ Weeps.
Lovewell. [Smiles and winks at LOVEWELL.   Love. But it sha'n't. I would rather tell our
Love. I think not, my lord.      [Gravely.  story this moment to all the house, and run the
Lord 0. I think so too; but let the fool try.   risk of maintaining you by the hardest labour, than
Sir J. Will your lordship favour me with your suffer you to remain in this dangerous perplexity.
good offices to remove the chief obstacle to the What! shall I sacrifice all my best hopes and
match, the repugnance of Mrs. Heidelberg?   affections, in your dear health and safety, for the
Lord 0. Mrs. Heidelberg  Had not you bet- mean (and in such case the meanest) considerater begin with the young lady first?  It will save tion-of our fortune 1 Were we to be abandoned
you a great deal of trouble, wont it, Lovewell.   by all our relations, we have that in our hearts and
rSmiles.] But do what you please, it will be the minds will weigh against the most affluent Cipsame thing to me: wont it, Lovewell.  [Conceit- cumstances.  I should not have proposed the
edly.] Why don't you laugh at him?          secresy of our marriage, but for your sake; and
Love. I do, mv lord.       [Forces a smile. with hopes that the most generous sacrifice you
Sir J. And your lordship will endeavour to have made to love and me, might be less injurious
prevail on Mrs. Heidelberg to consent to my to you, by waiting a lucky moment of reconciliation.
marriage with Miss Fanny!3                     Fan. Hush! hush! for Heaven's sake, my
Lord 0. I'll speak to Mrs. Heidelberg about dear Lovewell; don't be so warm! your generosity
the adorable Fanny as soon as possible.      gets the better of your prudence; you will be
Sir J. Your generosity transports me.      heard, and we shall be discovered. I am satisfied
Lord 0. Poor fellow, what a dupe! he little -indeed I am. Excuse this weakness, this delithinks who's in possession of the town.  [Aside. cacy, this what you will. My mind's at peaceSir J. And your lordship is not in the least indeed, it is-think no more of it, if you love me!
offended at this seeming inconstancy.         Love. That one word has charmed me, as it
Lord 0. Not in the least. Miss Fanny's charms always does, to the most implicit obedience: it
will even excuse infidelity. I look upon women would be the worst of ingratitude in me to distress
as the feree nature —Lawful game-and every you a. moment.                     [Kisses her.
man who is qualified, has a natural right to pursue        Re-enter BETTY.
them;-Lovewell as well as you, and you as well
as he, and I as well as either of you. Every man    Bet. [In a low voice.] I'm sorry to disturb you.
shall do his best, without offence to any-what   Fan. Ha! what's the matter?
say you; kinsmen 3                             Love. Have you heard any body?
Sir J. You have made me happy, my lord.      Bet. Yes, yes, I have; and they have heard
Love. And me, I assure you, my lord.       you too, or I'm mistaken-if they had seen you
Lord 0. And I am superlatively so —allons too, we should' have been in a fine quandary.
done! To horse and away, boys! you to your   Fan. Pr'ythee, don't prate now, Betty!
affairs, and I to mine-suivons l'amour. [Sings.   Love. What did you hear 2
[Exeunt.   Bet. I was preparing myself, as usual, to talk
me a little nap-'ACT V.                      Love. A nap!
SCENE I.-FANNY'S Apartment.               Bet. Yes, Sir, a nap; for I watch much better
so than wide awake; and when I had wrapped
Eter LovEw ELL andFANNYf fllow edbyby BETTY. this handkerchief round my head, for fear of the
Fan. Why did you come so soon, Mr. Love- ear-ache from the key-hole, I thought I heard a
well! the family is not yet in bed, and Betty cer- kind of a sort of a buzzing, which I first took for a
tainly heard somebody listening near the chamber- gnat, and shook my head two or three times, and
door.                                        went so with my hand.
Bet. My mistress is right, Sir! evil spirits are   Fan. Well-well-and soabroad; and I am sure you are both too good, not   Bet. And so, Madam, when I heard Mr. Loveto expect mischief from them.                well a little loud, I heard the buzzing louder tooLove. But who can be so curious, or so wicked 3 and pulling off my handkerchief softly, I could
Bet. I think we have wickedness and curiosity hear this sort of noise.
enough in this family, Sir, to expect the worse.    [Makes an indistinct sort of noise, like speaking.
Fan. I do expect the worst. Pr'ythee, Betty,   Fan. Well, and what did they say 3
return to the outward door, and listen if you hear   Bet. O! I could not understand a word of what
any body in the gallery; and let us know directly. was said.
Bet. I warrant you, Madam-the Lord bless   Love. The outward door is locked?
you both.                             [Exit.   Bet. Yes: and I bolted it too, for fear of the
Fan. What did my father want with you this worst.
evening3                                       Fan. Why did you  they must have heard
Love. He gave me the key of his closet, with you, if they were near.
orders to bring from London some papers relating    Bet. And I did it on purpose, Madam, and
to Lord Ogleby.                              coughed a little too, that they might not hear Mr.
Fan. And why did you not obey him?        Lovewell's voice-when I was silent, they were
Love. Because I am certain that his lordship silent, and so I came to tell you.
has opened his heart to him about you, and those   Fan. What shall we do 3
papers are wanted merely on that account-But   Love. Fear nothing; we know the worst; it.s we shall discover all to-morrow, there will be no will only bring on our catastrophe a little too soon
occaaion for them, and it would be idle in me to go.   but Betty might fancy this noise-she's in
63*




750.              THE CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE.                                    [ACT V
the conspiracy, and can make a man a mouse at would marry me to a'Change broker; so that, if
any time.                                    you, Madam, don't continue my friend-if you
Bet. I can distinguish a man from a mouse as forsake me-if I am to lose my best hopes and
well as my betters-I'm sorry you think so ill of consolation-in your tenderness-and affectionsme, Sir.                                     I had better-at once-give up the matter-and
Fan. He compliments you, don't be a fool! let my sister enjoy-the fruits of her treacheryNow you have set her tongue a running, she'll trample, with scorn, upon the rights of her elder
mutter for an hour. [ To LOVEWELL.] I'll go and sister-the will of the best of aunts-and the weakhearken myself.                      [Exit. ness of a too interested father.
Bet. I'll turn my back upon no girl for sincerity       [Pretends to be bursting in tears.
and service.          [Half aside, muttering.   Mrs. H. Don't Betsy-keep your spirit-I hate
Love. Thou art the first in the- world for both; whimpering-I am your friend-depend upon me
and I will reward you soon, Betty, for one and the in every particular. But be composed, and tell
other.                                      me what new mischief you have discovered.
Bet. I am not mercenary neither-I can live:-Miss S. I had no desire to sleep, and would not
on a little, with a good carreter.          undress myself, knowing that my Machiavel sister
Re-enter FANNY.               would not rest till she had broke my heart:-I was
so uneasy that I could not stay in my room, but
Fan. All seems quiet. Suppose, my dear, you when I thought that all the house was quiet, I
go to your own room-I shall be much easier then sent my maid to discover what was going forward;
-and to-morrow we will be prepared for the dis- she immediately came back and told me, that they
covery.                                     were in high consultation; that she had heard: only,
Bet. You may discover, if you please; -but for for it was in the dark, my sister's maid conducting
my part, I shall still be secret.            Sir John Melvil to her mistress, and then lock the
[Haf aside, and muttering. door.
Love. Should I leave you now, if they still are   Mrs. H. And how did you conduct yourself
upon the watch, we shall lose the advantage of in this dilemma?
our delay. Besides, we should consult upon to-   Miss S. I returned with her,: and could hear a
r, rrow's business. Let Betty go to her own room, man's voice, though nothing that they said disi..td lock the outward door after her; we can fasten tinctly; and you may depend upon it,:that Sir
this; and when she thinks all safe, she may return John is now in that room, that they have settled
and let me out as usual.                    the matter, and will run away together before the
Bet. Shall I, Madam?                      morning, if we don't prevent them.
Fan. Do let me have my way to-night, and you    Iirs. H. Why, the brazen slut! she has got
shall command me ever after.                 her sister's husband (that is to be) locked up in
Love. I live only to oblige you, my sweet Fanny! her chamber! at night too!-I tremble at the
I'll be gone this moment.           [Going. thoughts!
Fan. Betty shall go first, and if they lay hold   Miss S. Hush, Madam! I hear something?
of her-                                        Mrs. H. You frighten me-let me put on my
Bet. They'll have the wrong sow by the ear, I fly-cap-I would not be seen in this figur for the
can tell them that.          [Going hastily. world.
Fan. Softly-softly-Betty! don't venture out,   Aliss S.'Tis dark, Madam; you can't be seen.
if you hear a noise. Softly, I beg of you! See,   Mrs. H. I protest there's a candle coming, and
Mr. Lovewell, the effects of indiscretion!   a man too!
Love. But love, Fanny, makes amends for all.    Miss S. Nothing but servants; let us retire a
[Exeunt softly. moment!                       [ They retire.
SCENE I I.-A  Gallery leading to several Bed- Enter BRuSH, half drunk, laying hold of the
chambers.                   CHAMBERMAID, who has a candle in her hand.
Enter Miss STERLING, leading MRS. HEIDEL-   Cham. Be quiet, Mr. Brush; I shall drop down
BERG, in a night-cap.           with terror!
Miss S. This way, dear Madam, and then I'll   Brush. But my sweet and most amiable chamtell you all.                               bermaid, if you have no love, you may hearken to
AIrs. H. Nay, but niece-consider a little- a little reason; that cannot possibly do your virtue
don't drag me out this figure; let me put on my any harm.
fly-cap!-If any of my lord's fammaly, or the    Chainm. But you may do me harm, Mr. Brush,
counsellors at law should be stirring, I should be and a great deal of harm too; pray let me go: I
prodigus disconcerted.                      am ruined if they hear you; I tremble like an asp.
Miss S. But, my dear Madam, a moment is an   Brush. But they sha'n't hear us; and if you
age, in my situation. I am sure my sister has been have a mind to be ruined, it shall be the making
plotting my disgrace and ruin in that chamber!-  of your fortune, you little slut, you! therefore, I
O! she's all craft and wickedness.          say it again, if you have no love, hear a little
A/Irs. H. W-ell, but softly, Betsy!-you are all reason!
in emotion-your mind is too much flustrated-    Cham. I wonder at your impurence, Mr. Brush,
you can neither eat, nor drink, nor take your to use me in this manner; this is not the way to
natural rest-compose yourself, child; for if we keep me company, I assure you. You are a townare not as warisome as they are wicked, we shall rake, I see; and now you are a little inliquor, you
disgrace ourselves and the whole fammaly.    fear nothing.
Miss S. We are disgraced already, Madam.   Brush. Nlothing, by Heavens! but your frowns,
Sir John Melvil has forsaken me; my lord cares most amiable chambermaid; I am a little electrifor nobody but himself;- or if any body, it is my fled, that's the truth on't; I am not used to drink
sister: my father, for the sake of a better bargain, port, and your master's is so heady, that a pint of




scINE T.]    THE CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE.                                            751
it oversets a claret drinker. Come now, my dear   Miss S. Holiday! for what?
little spider-brusher!                        Cham. Nay, I only made one.
Chain. Don't be rude! bless me! I shall be   Miss S. Well, well; but upon what account?
ruined-what will become of me?                Chain. Because, as how, Madam, there was a
Brush. I'll take care of you, by all that's ho- change in the family, they said-that his honour,
nourable.                                    Sir John, was to marry Miss Fanny instead of
Chain. You are a base man to use me so-I'll your ladyship.
cry out, if you don't let me go. This is Miss   Miss S. And so you make a holiday for thatSterlings chamber, that Miss Fanny's, and that Very fine!
Madam Heidelberg's.                            Chain. I did not make it, Ma'am.
Brush. We know all that. And that Lord   Mlfrs. H. But do you know nothing of Sir John's
Ogleby's, and that my lady What-d'ye-call-em's: being to run away with Miss Fanny to-night?
I don't mind such folks when I'm sober, much less   Cham. No, indeed, Ma'am.
when I am whimsical-rather above that, too.    Miss S. Nor of his being now locked up in my
Cham. More shame for you, Mr. Brush! you sister's chamber?
terrify me-you have no modesty.                Chainm. No, as I hope for marcy, Ma'am.
Brush. 0, but I have, my sweet spider-brusher   AIrs. H. Well, I'll put an end to all this directly
— for instance, I reverence Miss Fanny-she's a -do you run to my brother Sterlingmost delicious morsel, and fit for a prince. With    Cham. Now, Ma'am?'Tis so very late,
all my horrors of matrimony, I could marry her Ma'am —myself-but for her sister-                     Mrs. H. I don't care how late it is. Tell him
Miss S. [Within.] There, there, Madam, all there are thieves in the house-that the house is
in a story!                                on fire-tell him to come here immediately-Go,
Cham. Bless me, Mr. Brush! I heard some- I say.
thing!                                        Cham. I will, I will, though I'm frightened out
Brush. Rats, I suppose, that are gnawing the of my wits.                        [Exit.
old timbers of this execrable old dungeon —If it   Mrs. H. Do you watch here, my dear; and I'll
was mine, I would pull it down, and fill your fine put myself in order to face them. We'll plot'em,
canal up with the rubbish; and then I should get and counterplot'em too. [Exit into her chamber.
rid of two damn'd things at once.             Mlliss S. I have as much pleasure in this revenge,
Chamn. Law! law! how you blaspheme! we as in being made a countess. Ha! they are unshall have the house upon our heads for it.  locking the door. Now for it!      [Retires.
Brush. No, no, it will last our time; but, as I
was saying, the eldest sister-Miss Jezebel  FANNY'S          is unlocked, and BETTY  meut.
Cham. Is a fine young lady, for all your evil    Miss STERLING approaches her.
tongue.                                        Bet. [Calling within.] Sir, sir! now's your
Brush. No-we have smoked her already; and time-all's clear. [Seeing MIss STERLING.] stay,
unless she marries our old Swiss, she can have stay-not yet-we are watched.
none of us. Nq no, she wont do-we are a little   MIiss S. And so you are, Madam Betty.
too nice.                                          [Miss STERLING lays hold of her, while
Cham. You're a monstrous rake, Mr. Brush,          BETTY locks the door, and puts the key
and don't care what you say.                         into her pocket.
Brush.'Why, for that matter, my dear, I am a   Bet. [Turning round.] What's the matter
little inclined to mischief; and if you don't have Madam.
pity upon me, I will break open that door, and   Miss S. Nay, that you shall tell my father and
ravish Mrs. Heidelberg.                     aunt, Madam.
Mrs. H. [Comingforward.] There's no bear-   Bet. I am no tell-tale, Madam, and no thief;
ing this-you profligate monster!             they'll get nothing from me.         [Aside.
Cham. Ha! 1 am undone!                      IlIiss S. You have a great deal of courage,
Brush. Zounds! here she is, by all that's Betty, and, considering the secrets you have to
monstrous.                        [Runs of: keep, you have occasion for it.
Miss S. A fine discourse you have had with    Bet. My mistress shall never repent her good
that fellow.                                opinion of me, Ma'am.
MIrs. H. And a fine time of night it is to be           Enter TERLING.
here with that drunken monster.
1Miss S. What have you to say for yourself?  Ster. What's all this  What's the matter?
Cham. I can say nothing-I'm so frightened, Why am I disturbed in this mannerS
and- so ashamed. But indeed I am vartuous-I   A/liss S. This creature, and my distresses, Sir,
am vartuous, indeed.                         will explain the matter.
Mrs. H. Well, well-don't tremble so; but tell
us what you know of this horrable plot here.
//iss S. We'll forgive you, if you'll discover all.dress.
Cham. Why, Madam, don't let me betray my   Mrs.'H. Now I'm prepared for the rancounter
fellow-servants-I sha'n't sleep in my bed, if I do. -Well, brother, have you heard of this scene of
Mrs. 1H. Then you shall sleep somewhere else wickedness 1
to-morrow night.                               Ster. Not I-but what is it? speak. I was got
Cham. 0 dear! what shall I do?           into my little closet, all the lawyers were in bed,
Mrs. H. Tell us this moment, or I'll turn you and I had almost.ost my senses in the confusion
out of doors directly.                       of Lord Ogleby's mortgages, when 1 was alarmed
Cham. Why, our butler has been treating us with a foolish girl, who could hardly speak; and
below in his pantry-Mr. Brush forced us to make whether it's fire, or thieves, or a rape, I'm quite
a kind of a holiday night of it.            in the dark.




752               THE CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE.                                      L[Acs 
Mrs. H. No, no, there's no rape, brother!-all where are the servants? Bring a light for me and
oarties are willing, I believe.               my brothers.
Miss S. Who's in that chamber.       Ster. Lights here! lights for the gentlemen!
[Detaining BETTY, who seems to be stealing                                       [Exit
away.                                  -Mrs. H. My brother feels, I see: your sister's
Bet. My mistress.                           turn will come next.
Miss S. And who's with your mistress?         Miss S. Ay, ay, let it go round, Madam, it is
Bet. Why, who should there be?              the only comfort i have left.
Miss S. Open the door then, and let us see.    Re-enter STERLING, with lights, before SERGEANT
Bet. The door is open, Madam. [MiesS STEa-   FLOWER, with one boot and a slipper, and
LING goes to the door.] I'll sooner die than peach.   TRAVERSE.
[Exit, hastily.
Miss S. The door is locked; and she has, got   Ster. This way, Sir! this way, gentlemen!
the key in her pocket.                          Flow. Well but, Mr. Sterling, no danger, 1
Mrs. H. There's impudence, brother! piping  hope?  Have they made a burglarious entry?
hot from your daughter Fanny's school!       Are you prepared to repulse them?  I am very
Ster. But zounds! what is all this about? You  much alarmed about thieves, at.circuit time. They
tell me of a sum total, and you don't produce the  would be particularly severe with us gentlemen
particulars.                                  of the bar.
Mrs. H. Sir John Melvil is locked up in your    Trayv. No danger, Mr. Sterling-no trespass,
daughter's bed-chamber. There is the particular. I hope? 
Ster. The devil he is i-That's bad.           Ster. None, gentlemen, but of those ladies'
Mliss S. And he has been there some time, too. making.
Ster. Ditto!                                 Mrs. H. You'll be ashamed to know, gentlemen,
Mrs. H. Ditto! worse and worse, I say. I'll that all your labours and studies about this youn/g
raise the house, and expose him to my lord, and  lady are thrown away-Sir John Melvil is at this
the whole fammaly.                            moment locked up with this lady's younger sister.
Ster. By no means! we shall expose ourselves,   Flow. The thing is a little extraordinary, to be
sister!-The best way is to insure privately-let sure; but why were we to be frightened out of our
me alone! I'll make him marry her to-morrow  beds for this? Could not we have tried this cause
morning.                                      to-morrow morning?
Miss S. Make him marry her! this is beyond all   Miss S. But, Sir, by to-morrow morning, per.
patience!-You have thrown away all your affec- haps, even your assistance would not have been
tion, and I shall do as much by my obedience; of any service; the birds now in that cage would
unnatural fathers make unnatural children. My  have flown away.
revenge is in my own power, and I'll indulge it.
Had they made their escape, I should have been   Enter LORD    EB n hs robe-de-chambrN,
exposed to the derision of the world: but the       niht-cap, 4c. leaning on CANTON.
deriders shall be   rided; and so-Help, help,   Lord O. I had rather lose a limb than my night's
there! Thieves, th. -.es!                     rest. What's the matter with you all?
Mrs. H. Tit-for-tat, Betsy! you are right, my    Ster. Ay, ay,'tis all over! Here's my lord, too.
girl.                                           Lord O. What's all this shrieking and screamSter. Zounds! you'll spoil all-you'll raise the ing! Where's my angelic Fanny? She's safe, I
whole family-The devil's in the girl.         hope?
Mrs. )H  No, no, the devil's in you, brother; I    Mrs. H. Your angelic Fanny, my lord, is locked
amn ashamed of your principles.-What! would  up with your angelic nephew, in that chamber.
you connive at your daughter's being locked up    Lord 0. My nephew! Then will I be excomwith her sister's husband?  Help! Thieves! municated.
thieves, I say!                    [Cries out.   Mrs. H. Your nephew, my lord, has been plotSter. Sister, I beg of you!-daughter, I beg of" ting to run away with Miss Fanny, and Miss
you!-If you have no regard for me, consider your- Fanny has been plotting to run away with your
selves!-we shall lose this opportunity of enno- nephew; and if we had not watched them and
bling our blood, and getting above twenty per cent. called up the fammaly, they had been upon the
for our money.                                scamper to Scotland by this time.
Miss S. What, by my disgrace and my sister's   Lord 0. Look ye, ladies! I know that Sir John
triumph? I have a spirit above such mean con- has conceived a violent passion for Miss Fanny;
siderations: and to show you that it is not a low- and I know, too, that Miss Fanny has conceived
bred, vulgar,'Change-alley spirit- Help, help! a violent passion for another person; and I am so
Thieves, thieves, I say!                      well convinced of the rectitude of her affections,
Ster. Ay, ay, you may save your lungs: the that I will support them  with my fortune, my
house is in an uproar.                        honour, and my life.-Eh, sha'n't I, Mr. Sterling?
[Smiling.]  What say you!
Enter CANTON in a night-gown and slippers.   Smiling. What say you 
Ster. [Sulkily.] To be sure, my lord. These
Can. Eh, diable! vat is de raison of dis great bawling women have been the ruin of every thing.
noise, dis tintamarre?                                                              [Aside.
Ster. Ask those ladies, Sir;'tis of their making.   Lord 0. But come, I'll end this business in a
Lord O. [Calls within.] Brush! Brush! Can- trice. If you, ladies, will compose yourselves, and
ton! Where are you? What's the matter?-  Mr. Sterling will ensure Miss Fanny from vio[Rings a bell.] Where are you?                lence, I will engage to draw her from her pillow
Ster.'Tis my lord calls, Mr. Canton.      with a whisper through the key-hole.
Can I com, mi lor!                  [Exit.   Mrs. H. The horrid creatures! I say, my lord,
Yow. [Callswithin.] A light! a light here!-  break the door open.




BCENEIIH.]         THE CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE.                                      7,53
Lord 0. Let me beg of your delicacy not to be   Lord 0. Eh!-What! How's this' By )vhat
bt') precipitate! Now to our experiment!    right and title have you been half the night in
[Advancing towards the door. that lady's bed-chamber?
Miss S. Now, what will they do? My heart   Love. By that right which makes me the hapwill beat through my bosom.                  piest of men; and by a title which I would not
Re-enter BETTY, with the key.        forego for any the best of kings could give.
Bet. I could cry my eyes out, to hear his masBet. There's no occasion for breaking open. i  c     c
doors, my lord; we have done nothing that we nanimity.
my mitrssshll Lord 0. I am annihilated!
facught to be ashamed of, and my mistress shall   Ster. I have been choked with rage and wonder;
face her enemies.    [Going to unlock the door. -but now I can speak.  Lovewell, you are a
Mrs. H. There's impudence!                villain; —you have broken your word with me.
Lord 0. The mystery thickens. Lady of the   Fan. Indeed, Sir, he has not; you forbade him
bedchamber, [To BETTY.] open the door, and to think of me, when it was out of his power to
entreat Sir John Melvil (for the ladies will have obey you; we have been married these four months.
it that he is. there,) to appear, and answer to high    Ster. And he sha'n't stay in my house four hours.
crimes and misdemeanors. Call Sir John Melvil What baseness and treachery! As for you, you
into court!
shall repent this step as long as you live, Madam!
Enter SIR JOHN MELVIL.               Fan. Indeed, Sir, it is impossible to conceive
Sir J. I am here, my lord.                 the tortures I have already endured in consequence
Mrs. H. Hey-day!                           of my disobedience. My heart has continually
Sir J. What's all this alarm and confusion? upbraided me for it; and though I was too weak
There is nothing but hurry in this house! What to struggle with affection, I feel that I must be
is the reason of it?                        miserable for ever without your forgiveness.
Lord 0. Because you have been in that cham-   Ster. Lovewell, you shall leave my house diber; have been! nay, you are there at this moment, rectly! and you shall follow him, Madam!
as these ladies have protested, so don't deny it-  Lord 0. And if they do, I will receive them
Tray. This is the clearest alibi I ever knew, into mine. Lookye, Mr. Sterling, there have been
Mr. Sergeant.                               some mistakes, which we had all better forget for
Flow. Luce clarius.                        our own sakes; and the best way to forget them,
Lord 0. Upon my word, ladies, if you have is to forgive the cause of them; which I do, from
often these frolics, it would be really entertaining  my soul. Poor girl! I swore to support her afficto pass a whole summer with you. But come, tion with my life and fortune;'tis a debt of honour,
[To BETTY.] open the door, and entreat your and must be paid. You swore as much too, Mr.
amiable mistress to come forth, and dispel all our Sterling; but your laws in the city will excuse
doubts with her smiles.                      you, I suppose; for you never strike a balance
Bet. [Opening the door.] Madam, you are without-errors excepted.
wanted in this room.                [Pertly.   Ster. I am a father, ily lord; but for the sake
Enter FANNY, in great confusion.      of other fathers, 1 think I ought not to forgive her,
Uniess S. You see she's ready dressed-and what for fear of encouraging other silly girls, like her-.
oiss  S. Yonfusion she'ashe' in.  dressed —and  self, to throw themselves away without the consent
confusion she's in.
AIrs. H. Ready to pack off, bag and baggage! of their parents.
1MHer guilt confounds her!o Iack off, bag andLove. I hope there will be no danger of that,
HerFlow. Sguilent confounds he court, ladies!  Sir. Young ladies, with minds like my Fanny's,
Fan. I arm confounded, indeed, Madam!      would startle at the very shadow of vice; and when
Lord 0. Don't droop, my beauteous lily! but they know to what uneasiness only an indiscretion
with your own peculiar modesty declare your state has exposed her, her ex amle, instead of encourof mind. Pour conviction into their ears, and aging, will rather serve to deter them.
rapture into mine.                [Smiling.   Mrs. H. Indiscretion, quotha. a mighty pretty
~~~rapture into mine.   [~~~ISm"    delicat word to express disobedience!
Pan. I am at this moment the most unhappy-    Lord O. For my part, I indulge my own pasmost distressed-the tumult is too much for my sions too much to tyrannize over those of other
heart-and I want the power to reveal a secret, people. Poorsouls!I pitythem.  Anyoumust
which to conceal has been the misfortune and. Poor souls! I     pity them. And you must
misery of my-                 [Faints away. forgive them  too. Come, come, melt a little of
your flint, Mr. Sterling!
LOVEWEsLI rushes out of the chamber.      Ster. Why, why, as to that, my lord-to be sure.
Love. My Fanny in danger! I can contain no he is a relation of yours, my lord-What say you,
longer! Prudence were now a crime; all other sister Heidelberg?
cares were lost in this! Speak, speak, speak to   AIrs. Ii. The girl's ruined, and I forgive her.
me, my dearest Fanny! let me but hear thy voice:   Ster. Well, so do I then. Nay, no thanks,
open your eyes, and bless me with the smallest there's an end of the matter.
sign of life!                                 Lord 0. But, Lovewell, what makes you dumo
[During this speech, they are all in amazement. all this while?.Miss S. Lovewell!-I am easy.               Love. Your kindness, my lord: I can scarce
A8irs. H. I am thunderstruck!            believe my own senses; they are all in a tumult
Lord O. I am petrified!                   of fear, joy, love, expectation, and gratitude! I
Sir.J. And I undone.                      ever was, and am now more, bound in duty to
Fan. [Recovering.] O, Lovewell!-even sup- your lordship. For you, Mr. Sterling, if every
ported by thee, I dare not look my father nor his moment of my life, spent gratefully in your serlordship in the face.                        vice, will in some measure compensate the want
Ster. What now? Did not I send you to Lon- of fortune, you perhaps will not repent your gooddon, Sir?                                    ness to me. And you, ladies, I flatter myself
VOL. I... 5C




454TX                               EPILOGUE.
will not for the future suspect me of artifice and    Col. T. I'm glad you like him, Sir-so ends the.
intrigue. I shall be happy to oblige and serve         pool. [ They pay and risefrom the tale
you. As for you, Sir JohnSir J. No apologies to me, Lovewell; I do notL TRILL.
deserve any. All I have to offer in excuse for       I hate all their nonsense,
what has happened, is my total ignorance of your     Their Shakspeares and Johnsons,
situation. Had you dealt a little more openly    Their plays, and their play-house, and bards.
with me, you would have saved me, yourself, and'Tis singing, not saying;
that lady (who I hope will pardon my behaviour,)     A fig for all playing,
a great deal of uneasiness. Give me leave, how-   But playing, as we do, at cards.
ever, to assure you, that, light and capricious as I  I love to see Jonas
may have appeared, now my infatuation is over, I     Am pleased too with Comus;
have sensibility enough to be ashamed of the part   Each well the spectator rewards.
I have acted, and honour enough to rejoice at your   So clever, so neat, in
happiness.                                           Their tricks and their cheating!
Love. And now, my dearest Fanny, though    Like them  we would fain deal our cards.
we are seemingly the happiest of beings, yet all
our joys will be damped, if his lordship's gene-   Sir P. King Lare is touching!-And how fine
rosity and Mr. Sterling's forgiveness should not       to see
be succeeded by the indulgence, approbation, and  Ould Hamlet's ghost!' To be, or not to be."sonsent of these our best benefactors.        What are your op'ras to Othello's roar.
[ To the audience. Oh, he's an angel of a Blackamoor.
Lord 3lI. What! when he chokes his wife!
Col. T. And calls her whore 3
EPILOGUE. BY MR. GARRICK.
Sir P. King Richard calls his horse-And
SCENE.-An Assembly.                         then Macbeth,
Whene'er he murders-takes away the breath.
Several Persons at cards, at dfferent tables; Wheneer hemurders-takes away the breath
amongthe rest, COLONEL TRILL, LoaD MINUM,  cMy blood runs cold at every syllable,
RS. QUAVERest, and  IR PATRICK  MAHONY.    To see the dagger that's invisible.  [All laugh.
MaS. QAxVa, and SIaPATaICK MAHONY.   Laugh if you please,-a pretty playAt the Quadrille Table.              Lord M. Is pretty.
Col. T. Ladies, with leave                    Sir P. And when there's wit in't2 Lady. Pass!                                  Col. T. To be sure,'tis witty.
3 Lady. Pass!                                  Sir P. I love the playhouse now-so light and
AIrs. Q. You must do more.                           gay
Col. 7'. Indeed I can't.                    With all those candles-they have ta'en away!
M3irs. Q. I play in hearts.                                                    [All laugh.
Col. T. Encore.                             For all your game, what makesit so muchbrighter?
2 Lady. What luck!                           Col. T. Put out the lights, and thenCol. T. To-night at Drury-lane is play'd       Lord M.'Tis so much lighter,
A comedy, and tout nouvelle-a spade!            Sir P. Pray, do you mane, Sirs, more than
Is not Miss Crotchet at the play 3                     you express?
AIrs. Q. My niece                              Col. T. Just as it happensHas made a party, Sir, to damn the piece.        Lord  1I. Either more or less.
At the Whist Table.                Mrs. Q. An't you asham'd, Sir?
Laord M. I hate a play-house-Trump-It SP. Me!-I seldom blus                      PRI
Sir P. Me! —I seldom blush:
makes me sick.
m Lady. We're.two by honours, Ma'am.  For little Shakspeare, faith, I'd take a push.
I Lady. We're two by honours, Ma'am.          Lord M. News, news! here comes Miss
Lord ~7.  And we th' odd trick.               Lord M. News, news!  here comes Miss
Lord Al. And we th' odd trick.
Pray do you know the author, Colonel Trill3            Crotchet from the play.
Col. T. I know no poets, Heav'n be prais'd             Enter MISS CROTCHET.
-SX padille —.Mrs. Q. Well, Crotchet, what's the news'
1 Lady. I'll tell you who, my lord.           Miss C. We've lost the day.
[Whispers LORD, MINUM.
Lord M. What, he  agai                        Col. T. Tell us, dear Miss, all you have heard
and seen.'' And dwell such daring souls in little men "e.~e~nld    t~Uhld~nousi little men."-   Miss C. I'm  tir'd-a chair-here, take mv
Se whose it will, they down our throats willhere, take m
cram it.                                      capuchin.
Lord A.U  And isn't it damn'd, Miss?
Col. T. 0, no-I have a club-the best-we'll                      n.
c damnl.  Mit.~/Iss C. No, my lord, not quite.
But we shall damn it.
Mrs. Q. O; bravo, colonel!-Music is my flame.   Cal. T. When 3
Lord M. And mine, by Jupiter!-We've won        iss C. T     rrow nig
the gam../Iiss C. To-morrow night.
(Jot. T. What, doeyou love all music?  There is a party of us, all of fashion,
oirs. Q. NoW, not HEvandel's.              Resolv'd to exterminate this vulgar passion:
Andrs.     X Q. No, not Handel's.           A playhouse! what a place!-I must forswear it;
And nasty Are fit for Goths and Vandals.    A little mischief only makes one bear it.
Lord M  Are fit for Goths and Vandals.
[Rise from tLhe tale and pay. Such crowds of city folks!-so rude and pressing 
And their horse-laughs so hideously distressing i
From the Piquet Table.             Whene'er we hiss'd, they frown'd and fell a
Sir P. Well, faith and troth, that Shakspeare        swearing,                      [ing,
was no fool!                          Like their own Guildhall giants-fierce and star




EPILOGUE.                                       755
Col. T. What said the folks of fashion. were   I7iss C.' Damn it!
they cross?                           Lord M. Damn it!
Lord M. The rest have no more judgment than    Sir P. Well, faith, you speak your minds, and
my horse.                                    I'll be freeMiss C. Lord Grimly said'twas execrable stuff. Good night-this company's too good for me.
Says one-" Why so, my lord?"-My lord took                                        [Going.
snuff                                  Col. T. Yourjudgment, dear Sir Patrick, makes.
In the first act Lord George began to doze,          us proud.                 [All laugh.
And criticis'd the author through his nose;    Sir P. Laugh if you please, but pray don't
So loud indeed, that as his lordship snor'd,         laugh so loud.                [Exit.
The pit turn'd round, and all the brutes encor'd.
Some lords indeed approv'd the author's jokes.   Recitative.- NEL  TRILL, MISS CROCHT
Lord 3l/. We have among us, Miss, some foolish
folks.                                 Col. T. Now the barbarian's gone, Miss, tune
AMiss C. Says poor Lord Simper-" Well, now         your tongue,
to my mind,                         And let us raise our spirits high with song.
The piece is good;"-but he's both deaf and    Miss C. Colonel, de tout mon cceur-Lve one
blind.                                       in petto,
Sir P. Upon my soul, a very pretty story!    Which you shall join, and make it a duetto.
And quality appears in all its glory.          Lord M. Bella signora, et amico mio,
There was some merit in the piece, no doubt.    I too will join, and then we'll make a trio.
Miss C'. O, to be sure!-if one could find it out..  Col. T. Come all and join the full-mouth'd
Col. T. But, tell us, Miss, the subject of the     chorus:
play.                               And drive all tragedy and comedy before us.
Aliss C. Why,'twas a marriage-yes-a mar-        [All the company rise and advance to the
riage-stay-                                   front of the stage.
A lord, an aunt, two sisters-and a merchant —
A baronet, two lawyers, a fat sergeant,SS CROC
Are all produc'd-to talk with one another;                  LORD MINUM.
And about something make a mighty pother!     Col. T. Would you ever go to see a tragedy I
They all go in and out, and to and fro;        Miss C. Never, never.
And talk and quarrel as they come and go-      Col. T. A comedy?
Then go to bed-and then get up-and then-       Lord M. Never, never.
Scream, faint, scold, kiss-and. go to bed again.- -      Live for ever.
[All laugh.            Tweedle-dum, and tweedle-dee.
Such is the play-Your judgment-never sham it.   Col. T.
Col. T. Oh, damn it!                        Lord..Lv
MrCo.. Oh, damn it!                       Lord M C.   Tweedle-dum, and tweedle-dee
I Lady. Damn it'                             Chorus. Would you ever go to see, &c.




T HE LIAR:
A rFAR GE,
IN TWO ACTS.
BY SAMUEL FOOTE, EsQ.
REMARKS.
TapE Menteuzr of Corneille is the foundation of this farce, which was first produced as a comedy in three aect
at Covent Garden. In that state, it was found rather tedious, and not sufficiently pointed with the vis cormia
but, reduced to two acts, it proves an agreeable comic treat, mixed with some wholesome satire.
DRAMATIS PERSON/E.
DRURY LANE, 1818.
SIR JAMES ELLIOT,............                              Mr. Barnard.
OLD WILDING...................M.........r. Powell.
YOUNG WILDING,............. Mr. Elliston.
PAPILLION,..............................................Mr. Gattze.
MIss GRANTAM,...........................................Miss Boyce
Miss GODFREY,................................... Mrs. Orger.
KITTY,...................................                  Mrs. Allsop
ACT 1.                         Y. Wild. I shall, however, take the liberty to
SCENE L-YoUNG WILDING's Lodgings.   conceal my arrival from him for a few days.
Pap. Vous avez raison.
YOUNG YWILTDING anYd PAPILLION.           Y. Wild. Well, my Mentor, and how am I to
Y. Wild. And am I now, Papillion, perfectly manage? Direct my road: where must I begin?
equipped                                        But the debate is, I suppose, of consequence?
Pap. Personne mieux. Nobody better.           Pap. Vra.iment.
Y. Wild. My figure!                           Y KWild. Hlow long have you left Paris, PaPap. Fait a peindre.                        pillion?
Y. Wild. My air?                             Pap. Twelve, dirteen, year.
Pap. Libre.                                   Y. Wlild. I can't compliment you upon your
Y. Wild. My address?                        progress in English.
Pap. Parisienne.                              Pap. The accent is difficult.
Y. Wild. My hat sits easily under my arm;    Y. Wild. But here you are at home.
not like the draggled tail of my tattered academi-   Pap. C'est vrai.
cal habit?                                       Y. Wild. No stranger to fashionable places.
Pap. Ah, bien autre chose.                    Pap. Au fait.
Y. gWild. Why, then adieu, Alma Mater, and    Y. Wild. Acquainted with the fashionable
bien venu la ville de Londres; farewell to the figures of both sexes.
schools, and welcome to the theatres; presidents,   Pap. Sans doute.
proctors, short commons with long graces, must   Y. Wild. Well, then, open your lecture:now give place to plays, bagnios, long tavern bills, and, d'ye hear, Papillion, as you have the honour
with no graces at all.                        to be promoted from the mortifying condition of
Pap. Ah, bravo! bravo!                    an humble valet to the important charge of a priY. Wild. Well, but my dear Papillion, you vate tutor, let us discard all distance between us.
must give me the chart du pays.  This town is See me ready to slake my thirst at your fountaih
a new world to me: my provident papa, you know, of knowledge, my Magnus Apollo.
would never suffer me near the smoke of London;   Pap. Here, then, I disclose my Helicon to nr
and what can be his motive for permitting me poetical pupil.
now, I can't readily conceive.                  Y. Wild. Hey, Papillion?
Pap. Ni moi.                                  Pap. Sir?
756




saEN  1.1                         THE  LIAR.                                      7,57
Y. Wild. What is this? Why you speak Eng- the country. I opened my melancholy story to
ish!                                         him over three penny-worth of beef a-la-mode in
Pap. Withou-L doubt.                       a cellar in St. Ann's. My little foreign friend
Y. TWild. But, like a native!             pursed up his lantern jaws, and, with a shrug
Pap. To be sure.                          of comtempt, " Ah, maitre Jean, vous n'avez pas
Y. Wild. And what am I to conclude from all la politique; you have no finesse: to trive here
his?                                       you must study the folly of your own country."
Pap. Why, Sir-But, to be better under- -" How, Monsieur!"-" Taisez-vous: keep-a
stood, I believe it will be necessary to give you a your tongue.  Autrefois I teach  you speak
short sketch of the principal incidents of my life.  French, now I teach-a you to forget English. Go
Y. Wild. Pr'ythee, do.                    vid me to my lodgement, I vil give you proper
Pap. Why then, you are to know, Sir, thatmy  dress, den go present yourself to de same hotels,
former situation has been rather above my present de very same house; you will find all de doors dat
condition, having once sustained the dignity of was shut in your face as footman Anglois, will fly
sub-preceptor to one of those cheap, rural acade- open demselves to a French valet de chambre."
mies with which our county of York is so plenti-   Y. Wild. Well, Papillion?
fully stocked.                                 Pap. Gad, Sir, I thought it was but an honest
Y. Wild. But to the point: why this disguise?  artifice, so I determined to follow my friend's adwhy renounce your country?                  vice.
Pap. There, Sir, you make a little mistake;    Y. Wild. Did it succeed?
it was my country that renounced me.           Pap. Better than expectation. My tawny face,
Y. Wild. Explain.                         long cue, and broken English, was apasse-partout.
Pap. In an instant; upon quitting the school, Besides, when I am out of place, this disguise
and first coming to town, I got recommended to procures me many resources.
the compiler of the Monthly Review.            Y. Wild. As how?
Y. Wild. What, an author too?              Pap. Why, at a pinch, Sir, I am either a teachPap. Oh, a voluminous one. The whole re- er of tongues, a friseur, a dentist, or a dancinggion of the belles lettres fell under my inspection; master: these, Sir, are hereditary professions to
physic, divinity, and the mathematics, my mistress Frenchmen. But now, Sir, to the point: as you
managed herself. There, Sir, like another Aris- were pleased to be so candid with me, I was detarch, I dealt out fame and damnation at plea- termined to have no reserve with you. You have
sure. In obedience to the caprice and commands studied books, I have studied men; you want adof my master, I have condemned books I never vice, and I have some at your service.
read; and applauded the fidelity of a translation,    Y. Wild. Well, I'll be your customer.
without understanding one syllable of the original.   Pap. But guard my secret. If I should be so
Y. Wild. Ah! why, I thought acuteness of unfortunate as to lose your place, don't shut me
discernment, and depth of knowledge, were ne- out from every other.
cessary to accomplish a critic.                Y. Wild. You may rely upon me.
Pap. Yes, Sir; but not a monthly one. Our   Pap. In a few years I shall be in a condition
method was very concise. We copy the title-page to retire from business; but whether I shall settle
of a new book; we never go any farther. If we at my family seat, or pass over to the continent,
are ordered to praise it, we have at hand about is as yet undetermined. Perhaps, in gratitude to
ten words, which, scattered through as many pe- the country, I may purchase a marquisate near
riods, effectually does the business; as "laudable Paris, and spend the money I have got by their
design, happy arrangement, spirited language, means generously amongst them.
nervous-sentiment, elevationofthought, conclusive    Y. Wild. A grateful intention. But let us
argument." If we are to decry, then we have, " un- sally. Where do we open 
connected, flat, false, illiberal, stricture, repre-   Pap. Let us see-one o'clock-it is a fine day:
hensible, unnatural."  And thus, Sir, we pepper the Mall will be crowded.
the author, and soon rid our hands of his work.  Y. Wild. Allons.
Y.' Wild. A short recipe.                   Pap. But don't stare, Sir: survey every thing
Pap. And yet, Sir, you have all the materials with an air of habit and indifference.
that are necessary: these are the arms with which    Y. Wild. Never fear.
we engage authors of every kind. To us all sub-   Pap. But I would, Sir, crave a moment's aujects are equal; plays or sermons, poetry or poli- dience, upon a subject that may prove very matics, music or midwifery, it is the same thing.    terial to you.
Y. Wild. How came you to resign this easy    Y. Wild. Proceed.
employment.                                    Pap. You may pardon my presumption; but
Pap. It would not answer. Notwithstanding you have, my good master, one little foible that I
what we say, people will judge for themselves; could wish you to correct.
our work hung upon hand, and all I could get   Y. Wild. What is it?
from the publisher was four shillings a-week and    Pap. And yet it is a pity too, you do it so very
my small beer. Poor pittance!              well.
Y. Wild. Poor, indeed.                      Y. Wild. Pr'ythee, be plain
Pap. Oh, half-starved me.                   Pap. You have, Sir, a lively imagination, with
Y. Wild. What was your next change.   a most happy turn for invention.
Pap. I was mightily puzzled to choose, when  Y.  Wild. Well.
chance threw an old friend in my way that quite   Pap. But now and then in your narratives you
retrieved my affairs.                       are hurried, by a flow of spirits, to border upon
Y. Wild. Pray, who might he be 2          the improbable, a little given to the marvellous.
Pap. A little bit of a Swiss genius, who had    Y. Wild. I understand you: what I am some.
been French usher with me at the same school in what subject to lying?
64




758                                 THE LIAR.                                     FACT I.
Pap. Oh, pardon me, Sir; I don't say that; no,   Miss Gr. I have heard the honour of that
no: -only a little apt to embellish; that's all.: To  conquest attributed to another name.
be sure it is a fine gift, that there is no disputing:    Y. Wild. The mere taking the town, Ma'am;
but men in general are so stupid, so rigorously at- but that's a trifle. —But, Madam, it is not to the
tached to matter of fact-And yet this talent of French alone that my feats are confined: Cheroyours is the' very soul and spirit of poetry;. and' kees, Catabaws, with all'the Aws and Ees of
why it should not be the same in prose, I can't for the continent, have felt the force of my arms.
my life determine..                   Pap. This is too much, Sir.
Y. Wild. You would advise me, then,: not to be    Y. Wild.: Hands off! -nor am I less adroit at a
quite so poetical in my prose:?              treaty, Madam, than terrible in battle. To me
Pap. Why, Sir, if you would descend a: little we owe the friendship of the Five Nations; and I
to the grovelling comprehension of the million, [I had:the first honour of smoking the pipe of peace
think it would be as well.                    with the Little Carpenter.
Y. TWild. I'll think of it.                  Mliss G. And so young!
Pap. Besides, Sir, in this town, people are more  -Y. Wild. This gentleman, though: a Frencnsmoky and suspicious; Oxford, you know, is the  man and an enemy, 1 had the fortune to - deliver
seat of:the:muses; and a man is naturally per- from the Mohawks, whose prisoner he:had been
mitted more ornament and garniture to: his con-'for nine years. -He giveg a most entertaining acversation, than they will allow in this latitude.   count of their laws and customs; he shall preY. Wild. I believe you are right. Butwe shall -sent you with the:wampum belt and a scalpingbe late. D'ye hear me, Papillion:' if at any time knife. Will you: permit him,: Madam, just to
you find me' growing too poetical, -give me a hint; give you a taste of the military-dance, with a short
your advice sha'n't be thrown away.   [Exit.  specimen of their war-whoop.
Pap. I wish it mayn't: but the disease is: too~ Pap. For Heaven's sake!....
rooted to be quickly removed.  Lord, how I have   Miss Gr. The: place-is too public.:
sweat for him! yet he is as unembarrassed,- easy,   Y. Wild. In short, Madam, after having.gatherand fluent, all the time, as if he really believed ed as many laurels'abroad as would garnish a
what he'said. Well, to be: sure, he is a great:Gothic cathedral at Christmas,: I returned to reap
master; it is a thousand pities his genius could the harvest of the well-fought field. Here it was
not be converted to some public service. I think  my good fortune to encounter you: then was the
the government should employ him to answer the victor vanquished; what the enemy could never
Brussels Gazette. 1'll be hanged if he is not too accomplish, your -eyes in- an instant achieved;
many for Monsieur Maubert, at his own weapons. prouder to serve here than command in chief else.
[Exit. where; and more glorious in wearing your chains,
SCENE II.-The Park.                 than in triumphing over the vanquished world.
Enter Miss GRANTAM, YOUNG WILDING, and    Miss Gr. I see Sir James Elliot coming, and
PAPILLION following.             must dismiss him. [Aside.] -Well, Sir, I acY. Wild. Your ladyship's handkerchief, Ma'am. cept the tendre of your passion, and may find a
Miss C;r. I am, Sir, concerned at the trouble- time to renew our acquaintance'; at: present it is
Y. Wild. A most happy incident for me, Ma- necessary we should separate.
dam; as chance has given me an honour, in one;   Y. Wild. Slave to your will, I'live but to obey
lucky minute, that the most diligent attention has you. But, may I be indulged with the knownot been able to procure for me in the whole te- ledge of your residence?
dious round of a revolving year.                Miss Or. Sir'
lMiss Gr. Is this meant to me, Sir.          Y. Wild Your place of abode 
Yr. Wild. To whom else, Madam! surely, you'  Miss Gr. Oh, Sir, you can't want to be acmust have marked my respectful assiduity, my
must have marked my respectful assiduity, my quainted with that; you have a whole year stood
uninterrupted attendance; to plays, operas, balls,   at my ladyship's portal.
routs, and ridottos, I have pursued you like your 
shadow.; I have besieged your door for a glimpse i iss Or. Oh, Sir, your servant. Ha, ha, ha!
of your exit and entrance, like a distressed credi- t you are caught  ha, ha, ha  Well, he has
tor, who has no arms against privilege but perse-a mostintrepid assurance. Adieu, myMars. Ha,
verance.                                      ha, ha!                               [Exit.
Pap. So, now, he is in for it stop him who can.   Pap. That last was an unlucky question, Sir.
Y. Wild. In short, Madam, ever since I quitted. V    ild. A      little mal-a-propos, I must confess.
America, which I take now to be about a year, I Pap. A man should have a goodmemory who
have as faithfully guarded the live-long night your deals much in this poetical prose.
ladyship's portal, as a sentinel the powder maga-   Y Wild. Poh!'11 soon re-establish my credit:
zine in a fortified city.                    but I must know who this girl is. Hark ye, PaPap. QCuitted America! well pulled.        pillion; could not you contrive to pump out of'Miss Gr. You have served in America, then  her footman    I see there he stands-the name
Y. TWild. Full four years, Ma'am: and during of his mistress 
that whole time, not a single action of consequence,   Pa. I will try.              [Ext.
but I had an opportunity to signalize myself; and   WILDING  retires t the back of the stage,
I think I may, without vanity, affirm, I did not    Enter SIR JAMES ELLIOT and SERVANT.
miss the occasion. You have heard of Qluebec, I
presume?                                       Sir J. Music and an entertainment?
Pap. What the deuce is he driving at now 2    Serv. Yes, Sir.
Y. Wild. The project to surprise that place    Sir J. Last night, upon the water?.
was thought a happy expedient, and the first   Serv. Upon the water, last night.
mbunting the breach agallant exploit. There in-   Sir J. Who gave it? 
deed the whole army did me justice.             Serv. That, Sir, I can't say.




SC~ENE III.]                       THE  L IAR:                                      759
To them WILDING.                China, by Robinson. Here the repast closed with
a few favourite airs from Eliza, Tenducci, and
V. Wild. Sir James Elliot, your most devoted  the _ilaittei.
Sir J. Ah, my dear Wilding! you are wel-   Pap. Mercy on us!
come to town.                                   Y. Wild. Opposite Lambeth, I had prepared a
Y. Wild. You will pardon my impatience; I naval engagement, in which Boscawen's victory
interrupted you; you seemed upon an interesting  over the French was: repeated:  the action was
subject't                                     conducted by one of the commanders on that exSir J.  Oh, an affair of gallantry.         pedition, and not a single incident omitted.
Y. Wild. Of what kind.                      Sir J. Surely, you exaggerate a little.
Sir J. A young lady regaled last night by her    Pap. Yes, yes, this battle will sink him.
lover on the Thames.                            Y. Wild. Truei to the letter, upon my honour.
Y. Wild. As how?                           I sha'n't trouble you with a repetition of our collaSir J. A band of music in boats.           tion, ball, feu d'artifice, with the thousand little
Y. Wild. Were they good performers?       incidental amusements that chance or design proSir J. The best. Thenconducted to Marble- duced: it is enough to know, that all that could
hall, where she found a magnificent collation.    flatter the senses, fire the imagination, or gratify
Y. Wild. Well ordered?                    the expectation, was there produced in a lavish
Sir J. With elegance. After supper, a ball; abundance.
and, to conclude the night, a firework.         Sir J. The sacrifice was, I presume, grateful
Y. Wild. Was the last well designed?      to your deity.
Sir J. Superb.                                Y. Wild. Upon that subject you must pardon
Y. Wild. And happily executed 2            my silence.
Sir J. Not a singlefaux pas.                 Pap. Modest creature!
Y. Wild. And you don't know who gave it't    Sir J. I wish you joy of your success-For the
Sir J. I can't even guess.                 present, you will excuse me.
Y. Wild. Ha, ha, ha!                         Y. Wild. Nay, but stay and hear the conclusion.
Sir J. Why do you laugh?                      Sir J. For that I shall seize another occasion.
E. Wild. Ha, ha, ha! It was me.                                                   [Exit.
Sir J. You!                                  Pap. Nobly performed, Sir.
Pap. You, Sir!                                Y. Wtild. Yes, I think, happily hit off.
Y. Wild. Moi-me.                              Pap. May I take the liberty to offer one
Pap. So, so, so; he's entered again.       question?
Sir J. Why, you are fortunate to find a mis-    Y. Wild. Freely.
tress in so short a space of time.              Pap. Pray, Sir, are you often visited with these
Y. Wild. Short! why, man, I have been in waking dreams?
London these six weeks.                         Y. YWild. Dreams! what dost mean by dreams?
Pap. 0 Lord, 0 Lord!                         Pap. Those ornamental reveries, those frolics
Y. Wild. It is true, not caring to encounter my  of fancy, which, in the judgment of the vulgar,
father, I have rarely ventured out but of nights.   would be deemed absolute flams.
Pap. I can hold no longer. Dear Sir-          Y. Wild. Why, Papillion, you have but a poor,
Y. Wild. Peace, puppy.                     narrow, circumscribed genius.
Pap. A curb to your poetical vein.            Pap. I must own, Sir, 1 have not sublimity
Y. Wild. I shall curb your impertinence.- sufficient to relish the full- fire of your Pindari~
But since the story is got abroad, I will, my dear muse.
friend, treat you with all the particulars.     Y. Wild. No; a plebeian soul! But I will aniSir J. I shall hear it with pleasure-This is mate thy clay; mark my example, follow my
a lucky adventure: but he must not know he is steps, and in time thou may'st rival thy master.
my rival.                            [Aside.   Pap. Very well, Sir, this is all very lively; but
Y. Wild. Why, Sir, between six and seven my  remember the travelling pitcher: if you don't one
goddess embarked at Somerset-stairs, in one of time or other, under favour, lie yourself into some
the companies' barges, gilt and hung with damask, confounded scrape, I will be content to be hanged.
expressly for the occasion.                     Y. Wild. Do you think so, Papillion. —And
Pap. Mercy on us o                         whenever that happens, if I don't lie myself out
Y. Wild. At the cabin-door she was accosted  of it again, why then I will be content to be cruby a beautiful boy, who, in the garb of a Cupid, cified. And so, along after the lady —-[Stops
paid her some compliments in verse, of my own  short, going out.] Zounds, here comes my father!
composing. The conceits were pretty; allusions I must fly. Watch him, Papillion, and bring me
to Venus and the-sea-the lady and the Thames word to the Cardigan.     [Exeunt separately.
-no great matter; but, however, well timed, and,       SCENE 111.-A Tavern.
what was better, well taken.
Sir J. Doubttess.                          YOUNG WILDING and PAPILLION risingfrom
table.
Pap. At what a rate he runs!                                   table.
Y. Wild. As soon as we had gained the centre   Y. Tild. Gad, I had like to have run into the
of the river, two boats, full of trumpets, French- old gentleman's mouth.
horns, and other martial music, struck up their   Pap. It is pretty near the same thing; for I
sprightly strains from the Surry side, which were saw him join Sir James Elliot: so your arrival is
echoed by a suitable number of lutes, flutes, and  no longer a secret.
hautboys, from the opposite shore. In this state,    Y. Wild. Why then I must lose my, pleasure,
the oars keeping time, we majestically sailed along, and you your preferment: 1 must submit to the' i the arches of the new bridge gave a  pause, and  dull decency of a sober family, and you to the
an opportunity for an elegant dessert in Dresden  customary duties of brushing and powdering. But




760                                 THE  LIAR.                                   [ACT I..
I was so fluttered at meeting my father, that I   Pap. Pray, Sirforgot the fair: pr'ythee, who is she?          Y. Wild. Any services, Sir, that I can render
Pap. There were two.                       you here, you may readily command.
Y. Wild. That I saw.                         Pap. Beaucoup d'honneur.
Pap. From her footman, I learned her name    Y. Wild. This gentleman, I say, Sir, whose
was Godfrey.                                 quality and country are sufficient securities for
Y. Wild. And her fortune?                 his veracity, will assure you, that yesterday we
Pap. Immense.                              left Oxford together.
Y. Wild. Single, I hope                      0. TVild. Indeed!
Pap. Certainly.                              Pap. C'est vrai.
Y. [Wild. Then will I have her.              0. Wild. This is amazing. I was at the same
Pap. What, whether she will or no 2        time informed of another circumstance too, that, I
Y. WTild. Yes.                             confess, made me a little uneasy, as it interfered
Pap. How will you manage that q            with a favourite scheme of my own.
Y. Wild. By making it impossible for her to    Y. Wild. What could that be, pray, Sir 2
marry any one else.                             O. Wild. That you had conceived a violent afPap. I don't understand you, Sir.          fection for a fair lady.
Y. Wild. Oh, I shall only have recourse to that   Y. Wild. Sir!
talent you so mightily admire. You will see, by    O. Wild. And had given her very gallant and
the circulation of a few anecdotes, how soon I will very expensive proofs of your passion.
get rid of my rivals.                           Y. Wild. Me, Sir!
Pap. At the expense of the lady's reputation,   0. Tfild. Particularly last night; music, collaperhaps.                                     tions, balls, and fireworks.
Y. Wild. That will be as it happens.         Y. Wild. Monsieur le Marquis!-And pray,
Pap. And have you no qualms, Sir?         Sir, who could tell you all this?
Y. Wild. Why, where's the injury?            0. Wild. An old friend of yours.
Pap. No injury, to ruin her fame!             Y. Wild. His name, if you please?
Y. Wild. I will restore it to her again.     O. Wild. Sir James Elliot.
Pap. How?                                    Y. Wild. Yes; I thought he was the man.
Y. Wild. Turn tinker, and mend it myself.    O. Wild. Your reason.
Pap. Which way?                 Y. TW-ild. Why, Sir, though Sir James Elliot
Y. Wild. The old way; solder it by marriage: has a great many good qualities, and is upon the
that, you know, is the modern salve for every sore. whole a valuable man, yet he has one fault which
Enter WAITER.                  has long determined me to drop his acquaintance.
O. Wild. What may that be?
Wait. An elderly gentleman to inquire for Mr.    Y. Wild. Why you can't, Sir, be a stranger to
Wilding.                                     his prodigious skill in the traveller's talent? 
Y. Tild. For me! what sort of being is it?  O. Wild. How!
Wait. Being, Sir!                             Y. YWild. Oh, notorious to a proverb. His
Y. Wild. Ay; how is he dressed?           friends, who are tender of his fame, gloss over his
Wait. In a tye-wig and snuff-coloured coat.   foible, by calling him an agreeable novelist; and
Pap. Zooks, Sir, it is your father.        so he is, with a vengeance. Why, he will tell
Y. Wild. Show him up.      [Exit WAITHER. you more lies in an hour, than all the circulating
Pap. And what must I do                    libraries put together will publish in a year.
Y Wild. Recover your broken English, but   O. Wild. Indeed!
preserve your rank; I have a reason for it.     Y Wild. Oh, he is the modern Mandeville at
Oxford: he was always distinguished by the facetious appellation of the Bouncer.
O. Wild. Your servant, Sir: you are welcome    O. Wild. Amazing!
to town.                                        Y. Wild. Lord, Sir, he is so well understood in
Y. Wild. You have just prevented me, Sir: I his own county, that at the last Hereford assizes,
was preparing to pay my duty to you.         a cause, as clear as the sun, was absolutely thrown
0. Wild. If you thought it a duty, you should, away by his being merely mentioned as a witness.
I think, have sooner discharged it.             O. Wild. A strange turn!
Y. Wild. Sir!                                Y. Wild. Unaccountable. But there, I think,
0. Wild. Was it quite so decent, Jack, to be they went a little too far; for if it had come to an
six weeks in town, and conceal yourself only oath, I don't think he would have bounced neifrom me.                                     ther; but in common occurrences, there is no reY. WVild. Six weeks! I have scarce been six peating after him. Indeed, my great reason for
hours.                                       dropping him was, that my credit began to be a
0. Wild. Come, come; I am better informed.  little suspected too.
Y. Wild. Indeed, Sir, you are imposed upon.   Pap. Poor gentleman!
This gentleman (whom first gave me leave to    O. Wild. Why, I never heard this of him.
have the honour of introducing to you,)' this, Sir,    Y. Wild. That may be: but can there be a
is the Marquis de Chateau Brilliant, of an ancient stronger proof of his practice than the flam he has
house in Brittany; who, travelling through Eng- been telling you of fireworks, and the Lordland, chose to make Oxford for some time the knows-what? And I dare swear, Sir, he was very
place of his residence, where I had the happiness fluent and florid in his description
of his acquaintance.                            0. Wild. Extremely.
O. Wild. Does he speak English?              Y Wild. Yes, that is just his ways  and not a
Y. Wild. Not fluently, but understands it per- syllable of truth from the beginning to the ending,
belly.                                       Marquis 2




SCENE I.1                          THE  LIAR.'761
Pap. Oh, dat is all a fiction, upon mine honour. l   riss Gr. Prodigiously! Oh, I'm quite in love
Y. Wild. You see, Sir-                     with his assurance! I wonder who he is: he can't
0. Wild. Clearly. I really can't help pitying have been long in town?  A young fellow of his
the poor man. I have heard of people, who, by easy impudence must have soon made his way to
long habit, become a kind of constitutional liars.  the best of company.
Y. Wild. Your observation is just; that is ex-  Mliss God. By way of amusement he may prove
actly his case.                              no disagreeable acquaintance; but you can't
Pap. I'm sure it is yours.         [Aside. surely have any serious designs upon him?
0. Wild. Well, Sir, I suppose we shall see you    Miss Gr. Indeed but I have.
this evening.                                  AlMiss God. And poor Sir James Elliot is to be
Y. Wild. The Marquis has an appointment discarded at once 
with some of his countrymen, which I have pro-   Miss Gr. Oh, no!
mised to attend; besides, Sir, as he is an entire    Miss God. What is your intention in regard to
stranger ill town, he may want my little services. him?.
O. Wild. Where can I see you in about an    Miss Gr. Hey? —I can't tell you. Perhaps,
hour? I have a short visit to make, in which you if I don't like this new man better, I may marry
are deeply concerned.                        him.
Y. Wild. I shall attend your commands; but   Miss God. Thou art a strange, giddy girl.
where?  -Mfiss Gr. Qtuite the reverse; a perfect pattern
0. Wild. Why, here.  Marquis, I am your of prudence; why, would you have me less careobedient servant.                            ful of my person than my purse?
Pap. Votre serviteur tres humble.            Miss God. My dear?
[Exit OLD W.   Miss Gr. Why, I say, child, my fortune being
Y. Wild. So, Papillion, that difficulty is des- in money, I have some in India-bonds, some in
patched. I think I am even with Sir James for the bank, some on this loan, some on the other;
his tattling.                                so that if one fund fails, I have a sure resource in
Pap. Most ingeniously managed:-but are not the rest.
you afraid of the consequence?  Miss God. Very true.
Y. Wild. I don't comprehend you.             Miss Gr. Well, my dear, just so I manage my
Pap. A future explanation between the parties. love affairs. If I should not like this man-if he
Y. Wild. That may embarrass: but the day is should not like me-if we should quarrel-if, ifdistant. I warrant I will bring myself off:  or in short, if any of the ifs should happen, which
Pap. It is in vain for me to advise.       you know break engagements every day; why,
Y. Wild. Why, to say truth, I do begin to find by this means I shall be never at a loss.
my system attended with danger. Give me your   Miss God. Quite provident. Well, anti pray,
hand, Papillion-I will reform.               on how many different securities have you at prePap. Ah, Sir!                              sent placed out your love.
Y Wild. I positively will. Why this practice  i1/iss Gr. Three; the sober Sir James Elliot;
may in time destroy my credit.               the new America-man; and this morning I exPap. That is pretty well done already. [Aside.] pect a formal proposal from an old friend of my
Ay, think of that, Sir.                      father.
Y. Wild. Well, if I don't turn out the merest   Miss God. Mr. Wilding?
dull matter-of-fact fellow-But, Papillion, I    AIJiss Gr. Yes: but I don't reckon much upon
must scribble a billet to my new flame. I think him: for you know my dear, what can I do with
her name is-                                 an awkward, raw, college cub! Though, upon
Pap. Godfrey; her father, an India governor second thoughts, that may'nt be too bad neither;
shut up in the strong room at Calcutta, left her all for as I must have the fashioning of him, he may
his wealth: she lives near Miss Grantam, by be easily moulded to one's mind.
Gros venor-square.
Y. Wild. A governor!-Oh ho!-Bushels of
rupees and pecks of pagodas, I reckon.-Well, I   Serv. Mr. Wilding, Madam.
long to be rummaging-But the old gentleman    Miss Gr. Show him in. [Exit SERVANT.]will soon return: I will hasten to finish my letter. You need not go, my dear; we have no particular
-But, Papillion, what could my father mean by business.
a visit in which I am deeply concerned?       Miss God. I wonder, now, what she calls partiPap. I can't guess.                        cular business.
Y. Wild. I shall know presently.-To Miss
Godfrey, formerly of Calcutta, now residing in
Grosvenor-square.-Papillion, I wont tell her a    O. W14ild. Ladies, your servant. 1 wait upon
word of a lie.                               you, Madam, with a request from my son, that
Pap. You wont, Sir.                        he may be permitted the honour of kissing your
Y. Wild. No; it would be ungenerous to de- hand.
ceive a lady. No; 1 will be open, candid, and   Mliss Gr. Your son is in town then, Sir?
sincere.                                       O. Wild. He came last night, Ma'am; and
Pap. If you are, it will be for the first time.   though but just from the university, I think I may'Exeunt. venture to affirm, with as little the air of a peACT II.                    dant asSCENE 1.           ~         Miss Gr. I don't, Mr. Wilding, question the
Miss GRANTAm and Miss GODFREY.   accomplishments of your son; and shall own toc,
Enter Mss GRA                    N DAM and Mlss GoDFraY. that his being descended from the old friend of my
Miss God. And you really like this gallant father is, to me, the strongest recommendation;
spark?                                         0. Wild. You honour me, Madam.
VOL. I... 5D       64*




762                                THE  LIAR.                                   [ACT II.
Miss Gr. But, Sir, I have something to say —  Sir J. Really?
O. Wild. Pray, Madam, speak out; it is im-   Miss Gr. Really.
possible to be too explicit on these important oc-   Sir J. Finely supported. Now, Madam, do
casions.                                      you know that one of us is just going, to make a
Miss Gr. Why then, Sir, to a man of your wis- very:ridiculous. figure?
dom and experience, I need not observe, that the   Aliss Gr. Sir, I never had the least doubt of
loss of a parent to counsel and direct at this so- your talents for excelling in that way.
lemn crisis, has made a greater degree of personal    Sir J. Ma'am, you do me honour: but it
prudence necessary in me.                    does not happen to fall to my lot upon this oc0. Wild. Perfectly right, Ma'am.           casion, however.
Miss Gr. We live, Sir, in a very censorious   Miss Gr. And that is a wonder!-what, then,
world; a young woman can't be too much on her I am to be the fool of the comedy, I suppose 2
guard; nor should I choose to admit any man in    Sir J. Admirably rallied! But I shall dash
the quality of a lover, if there was not at least a the spirit of that triumphant laugh.
strong probability-                             Miss Gr. I dare the attack. Come on, Sir.
O. Wild. Of a more intimate connection.:I   Sir J. Know. then and blush, if you are not as
hope, Madam, you have heard nothing to the dis- lost to shame as dead to decency, that I am no
advantage of my son.                         stranger to all last night's transactions.
M 7iss Gr. Not a syllable: but you. know, Sir,   Miss Gr. Indeed!
there are such things in nature as unaccountable    Sir J. From your first entering the barge at
antipathies, aversions, that we take at first sight. Somerset-house, to your last landing at Whitehall.
1 should be glad there could be no danger of that.   Miss Gr. Surprising!
O. Wild. I understand you, Madam: you shall   Sir J. Cupids, collations, feasts, fireworks, all
have all the satisfaction imaginable: Jack is to have reached me.
meet me immediately; I will conduct him under   Miss Gr. Why, you deal in magic.
your window; and if his figure has the misfor-   Sir J. My intelligence is as natural as it is intune to displease, I will take care his addresses fallible.
shall never offend you. Your most obedient ser-   Miss Gr. May I be indulged with the name of
vant.                                 [Exit. your informer 
Miss Gr. Now, there is a polite, sensible, old    Sir J. Freely, Madam. Only the very indifather for you.                               vidual spark to whose folly you were indebted for
-Miss God. Yes! and a very discreet, prudent this gallant profusion.
daughter he is likely to have. Oh, you are a great   Miss Gr. But his name?
hypocrite, Kitty.                               Sir J. Young Wilding.
Enter a SERVANT.                  Miss Gr. You had this story from him?
Ser. A letter for you, Madam. [To Miss   Sir J. I had.
GODFREY.] Sir James Elliot to wait on your la-   Miss Gr. From Wilding!-That is amazing
dyship.          [To Miss GRANTAM. Exit.   Sir J. Oh ho! what, you are confounded at
MIiss Gr. Lord, I hope he wont stay long here  last! and no evasion, no subterfuge, noHe comes, and seems entirely wrapped up in the    Miss Gr Look ye, Sir James; what you can
dismals: what can be the matter now?         mean by this strange story, and very extraordinary behaviour, it is impossible for me to conEnter SIR JAMES ELLIOT.             ceive; but if it is meant as an artifice to palliate
Sir J. In passing by your door, I took the li- your infidelity to me, less pains would have an-'herty, Ma'am, of inquiring after your health.  swered your purpose.
Miss Gr. Very obliging. I hope, Sir, you re-   Sir J. Oh, Madam, I know you are provided.
ceived a favourable account.                    Miss Gr. Matchless insolence! As'you can't
Sir J. I did not know but you might have expect that I should be prodigiously pleased with
caught cold last night.                      the subject of this visit, you wont be surprised at
Mliss Gr. Cold! why, Sir, I hope I didn't sleep my wishing it as short as possible.
with my bed-chamber window open.                Sir J. 1 don't wonder you feel pain at my preSir J. Ma'am!                             sence; but you may rest secure you will have no
Miss Gr. Sir!                              interruption for me; and I really think it would
Sir J. No, Ma'am; but it was rather ha- be pity to part two people so exactly formed for
zardous to stay so late upon the water.      each other. Your ladyship's servant. [Going.]
Msiss Gr. Upon the water?                 -But, Madam, though your sex secures you
Sir.J. Not but the variety of amusements, it from any farther resentment, yet the present obmust be owned, were a sufficient temptation.  ject of your favour may have something to fear.
Miss Gr. What can he be driving at now?                                          [Exit.
Sir J. And pray, Madam, what think you of   Miss Gr. Very well. Now, my dear, I hope
young - Wilding? is not he a gay, agreeable, you will acknowledge the prudence of my plan.
sprightly-  To what a pretty condition I must have been
Miss Gr. I never give my opinion of people I reduced, if my hopes had rested upon one lover
don't know.                                  alone!
Sir J. You don't know him!                   Miss God. But you are sure that your method
MAiss Gr. No.                              to multiply may not be the means to reduce the
Sir J. And his father I did not meet at your number of your slaves 
door!                                         Miss Gr. Impossible!-Why, can't you discern
nMiss Gr. Most likely you did.             that this flam of Sir James Elliot's is a mere fetch
Sir J. I am glad you own that, however, but for to favour his retreat?
tne son, you never-                            Miss God. And you never saw Wildingl?
Miss Gr. Set eyes upon him.                  Miss Gr. Never.




SCNE I.]                            T HE   L I A R.                                763
JMiss God. There is some mystery in this. I    Y. Wild. Time enough yet, Sir.
have, too, here in my hand, another mortification    0. Wild. I don't see that: you are, lad,. the
that you must endure.                        last of our race, and I should be glad to see some
Miiss Gr. Of what kind?                   probability of its continuance.
Miss God. A little allied to the last; it is from  Y. Wild. Suppose, Sir, your were to -repeat
the military spark you met this morning.     your endeavours; you have cordially my consent.
Miss Gr. What are the contents'-            O. Wild. No; rather too late in life for that
M/iss God. Only a formal declaration of love.  experiment.
Miss Gr. TW~hy, you did not see him.'Y. Wild. Why, Sir, would you recommend a.is/iss God. But it seems he did me.       condition to me, that you disapprove yourself?
Miss Gr. Might I peruse it?-" Battles-no    O. Wild. Why, sirrah, I have done my duty
wounds so fatal-cannon-balls-Cupid-spring a to the public and my family, by producing you:
mine —cruelty-die on a counterscarp-eyes-ar- now, Sir, it is incumbent on you to discharge
tillery-death-the stranger."  It is addressed to your debt.
YOUM                                            Y. Wild. In the college cant, I shall beg -leave
Miss God. I told you so.                   to tick a little longer.
l/iss Gr. You will pardon me, my dear; but I   0. Wild. Why, then, to be serious, son, this
really can't compliment you upon the supposition is the very business I wanted to- talk with you
of a conquest at my expense.                 about. In a word, I wish you married; and by
Miss God. That would be enough to make me providing the lady of that mansion for the purvain: but why do you think it was so impossible? pose, I have proved myself both a. father and a
Miss Gr. And do you positively want a rea- friend.
son?'Y. Wild. Far be it from me to question your care;.Miss God. Positively.                     yet some preparation for so important a change-,Aiss Gr. Why, then, I shall refer you for an    O. Wild. Oh, I will allow you a week.
answer to a faithful councellor and most ac.-. Wild. A little more knowledge of the world.
a,mplished critic.                            O. Wild. That you may study at leisure....:lss God. Who may that be                  Y. Wild. Now all Europe is in arms, my deM!iss Gr. The mirror upon your toilet.     sign was to serve my country abroad.
Miss God. Perhaps you may differ in judg-   0. Wild. You will befull as useful to it by rement.                                   cruiting her subjects at home.
Miss Gr. Why, can glasses flatter?           Y. Wild. You are then resolved.
Miss God. I can't say I think that necessary.  O. Wild. Fixed.
Miss Gr. Saucy enough!-But come, child,   Y. Wild. Positively?
don't let us quarrel upon so whimsical an occa-   0. Wild. Peremptorily.
sion; time will explain the whole. You will fa-   Y. Wrild. No prayersvour me. with your opinion of young Wilding at   O. Wild. Can move me,
my window.                                      Y; Wild. How the deuce shall I get out of this
Amiss God. I attend you.                   toil? [Aside.]-But suppose, Sir, there should be
/Miss Gr. You will forgive me, my dear, the. an insurmountable objection?
little hint I dropp'd; it was meant merely to serve   0. Wild. Oh, leave the reconciling-thatto me;
you; for indeed,, child, there is no quality so in- I am an excellent casuist.
sufferable in a young woman as self-conceit:and    Y. Wild. But 1 say, Sir, if it should be imvanity.                                      possible to obey your commands 2?,Miss God. You are most prodigiously obliging.   0. Wild. Impossible -I don't understand you.
Miss Gr. I'll follow you, Miss. [Exit Miss    Y. Wild. Oh, Sir!-but on my-knees first let
GODFREY.] Pert-thing!-She grows immoderate-. me crave your pardon.
ly ugly; I always thought her -awkward, but she    0. Wild. Pardon! for what?
is now an absolute fright.                     Y. Wild. I fear I have lost all title to your fuMiss God. [W Vithin.]:Miss, Miss Grantam, ture favour.your hero's at hand.                           O. Wild. Which way?:/liss Gr. I come.                 Y. Wild. I have done a deedMiss God. As I live, the very individual stran-   O. Wild. Let's:hear it.
ger!                                          Y. Wild. At Abingdon, in the county of Berks.
Miss Gr. No, sure!-Oh Lord, let me have a:   O. Wild. Well 2
peep.                                           Y. Wild. I am.
Miss God. It is he, it is he, it is he!     O. Wild. What?::I...        ITY. Wild. Already married.
Enter OLD WILDING, YOUNG WILDING, and         O. Wild. Married 
PAPILLION.
Pap. Married!:O. Wild. There, Marquis,:you must pardon    Y. Wild. Married.
me; for though Paris be more compact, yet surely   O. Wild. And without my consent?
London covers a much greater quantity.-Oh,    Y. Wild. Compelled; fatally forced. Oh, Sir,
Jack, look at that corner-house; how d'ye:like it? 2did you but know all the circumstances of my sad,
Y. Wild. Very well; but I don't see any thing sad story, your rage would soon convert itself to
extraordinary.                               pity.
0. Wild. I wish, though, you were the master   0. Wild. What an unlucky event!-but rise,
of what it contains.                         and let me hear it all.
YV Wild. What may that be, Sir?         Y.   Wild. The shame and confusion I now
O. Wild. The mistress, you rogue you: a fine feel, render that task at present impossible: I
girl, and an immense fortune; ay, and a prudent, must therefore. rely for the relation on the gould
sensible wench into the bargain,             offices of this faithful friend.




:764                               THE  LIAR.                                  [ACT I.
Pap. Me, Sir! I never heard one word of the    Y Wild. One fatal evening, the twentieth of
matter.                                      September, if I mistake not, we were in a retired
0. Wild. Come, Marquis, favour me with the room, innocently exchanging mutual vows, when
particulars.                                 her father, whom we expected to sup abroad,
Pap. Upon my vard, sare, dis affair has so came suddenly upon us. I had just time to con
shock me, dat I am almost as incapable to tell de ceal myself in a closet.
tale as your son.-[ To YOUNG WILDING.] —   O. Wild. What, unobserved by him?
Dry-a your tears. What can I say, Sir.         Y. Wild. Entirely. But as my ill stars would
Y. Wild. Any thing.-Oh!- [Seems to weep. have it, a cat, of whom my wife is vastly fond,
Pap. You see, sare.                        had a few days before lodged a litter of kittens in
0. Wild. Your kind concern at the misfortunes the same place; I unhappily trod upon one of the
of my family calls for the most grateful acknow- brood; which so provoked the implacable mother,
ledgment.                                    that she flew at me with the fury of a tiger.
Pap. Dis is great misfortunes, sans doute.   0. Wild. I have observed those creatures very
0. Wild. But if you, a stranger, are thus af- fierce in defence of their young.
fected, what must a father feel?               Pap. I shall hate a cat as long as I live.
Pap. Oh, beaucoup, a great deal more.        Y. Wild. The noise roused the old gentleman's
0. Wild. But since the evil is without a reme- attention: he opened the door, and there disdy, let us know the worst at once. Well, Sir, at covered your son.
Abingdon.?                                    Pap. Unlucky.
Pap. Yes, at Abingdon.                       Y. Wild. I rushed to the door; but fatally my. TWild. In the county of Berks?          boot slipt at the top of the stairs, and down I
Pap. Dat is right, in the county of Berks.  came tumbling to the bottom; the pistol in my
Y. Wild. Oh, oh!                          hand went off by accident; this alarmed her three
0. Wild. Ah, Jack, Jack! are all my hopes brothers in the parlour, who with all their serthen-Though I dread to ask, yet it must be vants, rushed with united force upon me.
known; who is the girl, pray, Sir?            O. Wild. And so surprised you!
Pap. De girl, Sir-[Aside to YOUNG WILDING.]   Y. Wild. No, Sir; with my sword I for some
-Who shall I say?.                          time made a gallant defence, and should have inY. Wild. Any body.                        evitably escaped, but a rawboned, overgrown,
Pap. For de girl, I can't say upon my vard.   clumsy cook-wench, struck at my sword with a
0. Wild. Her condition?                   kitchen-poker, broke it in two, and compelled me
Pap. Pas grande condition: dat is to be sure. to surrender at discretion; the consequence of
But dere is no help-[Aside to YOUNG WILDING.] which is obvious enough.
-Sir, I am quite a-ground.                     0. Wild. Natural.  The lady's reputation,
0. CWild. Yes, I read my shame in his reserve: your condition, her beauty, your love, all combined
some artful hussy.                           to make marriage an unavoidable measure.
Pap. Dat may be. Vat you call hussy 2        Y. W4ild. May I hope, then, you rather think
0. Wild. Or perhaps some common creature. me unfortunate than culpable 7
But I'm prepared to hear the worst.            O. Wild. Why, your situation is a sufficient
Pap. Have you no mercy?                   excuse: all I blame you for is, your keeping it a
Y. Wild. I'll step to your relief, Sir.   secret from me. With Miss Grantam  I shall
Pap. 0 lord, a happy deliverance.          make an awkward figure; but the best apologyis
Y. Wild. Though it is almost death for me to the truth: I'll hasten and explain it to her allspeak, yet it would be infamous to let the reputa- Oh, Jack, Jack, this is a mortifying business.
tion of the lady suffer by my silence. She is, Sir,   Y. Wild. Most melancholy.
of an ancient house and unblemished character.                      [Exit OLD WILDINGO
O. Wild. That is something.                 Pap. I am amazed, Sir, that you have so careY. Wild. And though her fortune may not be fully concealed this transaction from me.
equal to the warm wishes of a fond father, yet-    Y. Wild. Hey-day: what, do you believe it
0. Wild. Her name?                        too?
Y. Wild. Miss Lydia Sybthorp.               Pap. Believe it! why, is not the story of the
0. Wild. Sybthorp-I never heard of the name. marriage true?
-But proceed.                                  Y. Wild. Not a syllable.
Y. Wild. The latter end of last long vacation,   Pap. And the cat, and the pistol, and the poker?
I went with Sir James Elliot to pass a few days    Y. Wild. All invention. And were you realat a new purchase of his near Abingdon. There, ly taken in?
at an assembly, it was my chance to meet and    Pap. Lord, Sir, how was it possible to avoid
dance with this lady.                        it?-Mercy on us! what a collection of circumO. Wild. Is she handsome?                stances have you crowded together!
V. Wild. Oh, Sir, more beautiful-            Y. Wild. Genius; the mere effects of genius,
O. Wild. Nay, no raptures; but go on.     Papillion. But to deceive you who so thoroughly
Y. Wild. But to her beauty she adds politeness, know me!
affability, and discretion; unless she forfeited that   Pap. But to prevent that for the future, could
character by fixing her affection on me.     you not just give your humble servant a hint
0. WTild. Modestly observed.              when you are bent upon bouncing. Besides,
Y. Wild. I was deterred from a public declara- Sir, if you recollect your fixed resolution to retion of my passion, dreading the scantiness of her formfortune would prove an objection to you. Some    Y. Wild. Ay, as to matter of fancy, the
private interviews she permitted.            mere sport and frolic of invention:.but in case of
O. Wild. Was that so decent?-But love and necessity-why, Miss Godfrey was at stake, and
prudence, madness and reason.                I was forced to use all my finesse!




ScENt mn.1                         THE  L IA R.                                    765
Enter a SERVANT.                  O. Wild. From Jack; not two hours ago.
Sewv. Two letters, Sir.            [Exit.   SirJ. I wish you joy, Sir.
Pap. There are two things, in my conscience,   0. Wild. Not much of that, I believe.
my master will never want; a prompt lie, and a   Sir J. Why, Sir, does the marriage displease
ready excuse for telling of it.      [Aside. you 
O. Wild. Doubtless.
Y. Wild. Hum! business begins to thicken    0 Wild. Doubtless.
apon us: a challenge from Sir James Elliot, and  r J. Then I fancy you may make yourself
a rendezvous from the pretty Miss Godfrey. They  easy.
shall both be observed, but in their order; there-    0  Wild. Why sot
fore the lady first. Let me see-I have not been    Sir J.  You have got, Sir, the most prudent
twenty hours in town, and I have already got a  daughter-in-law in the British dominions.
challenge, a mistress, and a wife; now if I can   0. Wild. I am  happy to hear it.
but get engaged in a chancery suit, I shall have    SirJ. For, though she maynt have brought
my hands pretty full of employment. Come, Pa- you much, I'm sure she'll not cost you a farthing.
pillion, we have no time to be idle.    [Exeunt.   0. Wild. Ay; exactly Jack's account.
Sir J. She'll be easily jointured.
SCENE III. —An Apartment in Miss GRAN-    O. Wild. Justice shall be done to her.
TAM'S House.                   Sir J. No provision necessary for young
Enter SERVANT, conducting in OLD WILDING. children.
O. Wild. No, Sir! why not? —I can tell you,
Ser. My lady, Sir, will be at home immedi-   0. Wild. No, Sir! why not?-I can tell you,
ately: Sir James Elliot is in the next room wait-if she answers your account, not the daughter of?tely'  Sir James Elliot is in the next room wait- adukeing her return.
ing her return.                                Sir J. Ha, ha, ha, ha!
O. Wild. Pray, honest friend, will you tell Sir   Sir J. Ha, ha, ha, ha  
James that I beg the favour of a word with him  Sir J. Wld.hat an unaccountable fellow!
[Exit SERVANT.] This unthinking boy! Half    0. Wild. Sir!
the purpose of my life has been to plan this scheme ir J. I beg your pardon, Sir. But wi
for his happiness, and in one heedless hour has    Sr. I beg your pardon, Sr. But wh rehe mangled all.                              gard to this marriageO. Wild. Well, Sir!
Enter SIR JAMES ELLIOT.              Sir J. I take the whole history to be neither
more or less than an absolute fable.
Sir, I ask your pardon; but upon so interesting a    0. Wild. How, Sir
subject I hope you will excuse my intrusion.   Sir J Even so.
Pray, Sir, of what credit is the family of the
Sybthors in Berkshire I. O. Wild. Why, Sir, do you think my son
Sybthorps in Berkshire 2                   would dare to impose upon me?
Sir J, Sir?                                  Sir J. He would dare to impose upon any
0. Wild. I don't mean as to property; that I body. Don't I know him
am not so solicitous about; but as to their cha- body. Don'tow
O. Wild. What do you know!
racter. Do they live in reputation? Are they    0
acter. Dothey live in reputation?  Are they    Sir J. I know, Sir, that his narratives gain
respected in the neighbourhood?
Sir  J   The familyoftheStho rs  him more applause than credit; and that, whether
Wildr J.  Of the Sybhorps.   ofrom constitution or habit, there is no believing a
O. Wild. Of the Sybthorps.                syllable be says.
Sir J. Really I don't know, Sir.          syllable he says.
0ir J. Really I don't know,  0ir.           O. Wild. Oh, mighty well, Sir!,-He wants to
Sir Ji. No  it is the very first time I have turn the tables upon Jack.-But it won't do; you
hea r..of the name.  th  er  irttieI  aeare forestalled: your novels wont pass upon me.
heard of the name.
Sir J. Sir!
O. Wild. How steadily he denies it! Well. Wild.  Nor 
done, baronet! I find Jack's account was a just bla. Wtld. Nor isthe breathe character of my son to be
one. [Aside.] Pray, Sir James, recollect yourself  J.  What is this?
Sir J. It will be to no purpose.
0.  Wild. Come, Sir, your motive for this af-   0. Wild. No, no, Mr. Mandeville, it wont do;
you are as well known here as in your own
fected ignorance is a generous but unnecessary ouare as well known hereford. as in your own
proof of your friendship for my son; but I know county of Hereford.
the whole affair.                              Sir J. Mr. Wilding, but that I am sure this
Sir J. What affair?                       extravagant behaviour owes its rise to some impudent impositions of your son, your age would
O. Wild. Jack's marriage.
Sir J. What Jack 7                        scarce prove your protection.
0. Wild. My son Jack.                        O. Wild. Nor, Sir, but that I know my boy
Sir J. Is he married?                    equal to the defence of his own honour, should he
want a protector in this arm, withered and impoO. Wild. Is he married. why you know he is.
Sir J. Not I, upon my honour.             tent as you may think it.
0. Wild. Nay, that is going a little too far;        Enter MISS GRANTAM.
but to remove all your scruples at once, he has
owned it himself.                              Miss Gr. Bless me, gentlemen, what is the
Sir J. He has!                           meaning of this?
O. Wild. Ay, ay, to me. Every circumstance;   Sir J. No more at present, Sir: I have another
going to your new purchase at Abingdon-meet- demand upon your son; we'll settle the whole
tng Lydia Sybthorp at the assembly-their private together.
interviews-surprised by the father —pistol-po-   0. Wild. I am sure he will do you justice
ker-and marriage; in short, every particular.    SMiss Gr. How, Sir James Elliot! I flattered
Sir J. And this account you had from your myself that you had finished your visits here, Sir.
son    -                                     Must I be the eternal object of your outrage? not




766                                THE  L I A R.                               [AcrT.
only insulted in my own person, but in that of my  then come to my dressing-room:' I have a short
friends! pray, Sir, what right —             scene to giv. you to study. [Exit KITTY.' —The
0. Wild. Madam, I ask your pardon; a disa- girl is lively, and I warrant will do her character
greeable occasion brought me here: I come, Ma- justice. Come, Sir James. Nay, no ceremony;
dam, to renounce all hopes of being nearer allied we must be as busy as bees.   [Exeunt.
to you, my son unfortunately being married al-   O. Wild. This strange boy — But I must comready.                                       mand my temper.
A'Iiss Gr. Married!                          Y. Wild. [Speaks as he enters.]-People to
Sir J. Yes, Madam, to a lady in the clouds: speak with me! see what they want, Papillion.and because I have refused to acknowledge her My father here! that's unlucky enough.
family, this old gentleman has behaved in a man-    0. Wild. Ha, Jack, what brings you here?
ner very inconsistent with his usual politeness.  Y. Wild. Why, I thought it my duty to wait
O. Wild. Sir, I thought this affair was to be re- upon Miss Grantam, in order to make her some
served for another occasion; but you it seems-   apology for the late unfortunateMiss Gr. Oh, is that the business!-Why, I   O. Wild. Well, now, that is prudently as well
begin to be afraid: that we are here a little in as politely done.
the wrong, Mr. Wilding.                        Y. Wild. I am happy to meet, Sir, with your
O. f-Wild. Madam!                          approbation.
l/liss Gr. Your son has just confirmed Sir   O. Wild. 1 have been thinking, Jack, about
James Elliot's opinion, at a conference under Miss my daughter-in-law: as the affair is public, it is
Godfrey's window.                            not decent to let her continue long at her father's.
O. tVild. Is it possible!                    Y. Wild. Sir!
Miss Gr. Most true; and assigned two most   O. iWild. Would it not be right to send for her
whimsical motives for the unaccountable tale.    home 1
O. Wild. What can they be'                  Y. Wild. Doubtless, Sir.
Miss Gr. An aversion for me, whom he has    0. Wild. I think so. Why then, to-morrow
seen but once; and an affection for Miss Godfrey, my chariot shall fetch her.
whom I am almost sure he never saw in his life.    Y. Wild. The devil it shall! [Aside.]-Not
0. Wild. You amaze me.                     quite so soon, if you please, Sir.
Miss Gr. Indeed, Mr. Wilding, your son is a    O. Wild. No! why not!
most extraordinary youth; he has finely per-   Y. Wild. The journey may be dangerous in
plexed us all. I think, Sir James, you have a her present condition.
small obligation to him.                       0. Wild. What's the matter with her?
Sir J. Which I shall take care to acknowledge    Y. Wild. She is big with child, Sir..
the first opportunity.                         0. Wild. An audacious-Big with child! that
0. Wild. You have my consent. An aban- is unfortunate. But. however, an easy carriage,
doned profligate! was his father a proper subject and short stages, can't hurt her.
for his-But I discard him.                     Y. Wild. Pardon me, Sir, I dare not trust her:
Miss Gr. Nay, now, gentlemen, you are ra- she is six months gone.
ther too warm; I can't think Mr. Wilding bad-   O. Wild. Nay, then, there may be danger inhearted at the bottom. This is a levity-    -deed. But should not I write to her father, just
0. Wild. How, Madam, a levity!            - to let him know that you have discovered the se-:Miss Gr. Take my word for it, no more; in- cret?
flamed into habit by the approbation of his juve-    Y. Wild. By all means, Sir, it will make him
nile friends. Will you submit his punishment to extremely happy.
me? I think I have the means in my hands, both    O. Wild. Why then, I will about it instantly.
to satisfy your' resentments, and accomplish his Pray, how do you direct to him'
cure into the bargain.                         Y. Wild. Abingdon, Berkshire.
Sir J. I have no quarrel to him, but for the ill   O. Wild. True; but his address' 
offices he has done me with you.               Y. Wild. You need not trouble yourself, Sir:
Miss Gr. D'ye hear, Mr. Wilding'  I am  I shall write by this post to my wife, and will
afraid my opinion with Sir James must cement send your letter inclosed.
the general peace.                             0. Wild. Ay, ay, that will do.    [Going.
0. Wild:  Madam, I submit to any-            Y. Wild. So, I have parried that thrust.
Enter a SERVANT.. WTild. Though, upon second thoughts, Jack,
that will rather look too familiar for an introduc
Ser. Mr. Wilding, to wait upon you, Madam. tory letter.
[Exit.    Y. Wild. Sir!
Miss Gr. He is punctual, I find. Come, good    O. Wild. And these country gentlemen are
folks, you all act under my direction. You, Sir, full of punctilios —No, I'll send.hima letter apart;
will get from your son, by what means you think  so give me his direction.
fit, the real truth of the Abingdon business. You    Y. Wild. You have it, Sir.
must likewise seemingly consent to his marriage    0. 147ild. Ay, but his name: I have been so
with Miss Godfrey, whom I shrewdly suspect he hurried that I have entirely forgot it.
has, by some odd accident mistaken for me; the    Y. Wild. I am sure so have I. [Aside.]-His
lady herself shall appear at your call. Come, Sir name-his name, Sir-Hopkins.
James, you will withdraw. I intend to produce    O. WTild. Hopkins!
another performer, who will want a little instruc-   Y.  ild. Yes, Sir.
tion. Kitty!                                   O. Wild. That is not the same name that you
Enter KiTTY.                  gave me before: that, if I recollect, was either
Sydthorp or Sybthorp.
Let Join show Mr. Wilding in to his father:    Y. Wild. You are right, Sir; that is his pa



SCENE II.I                         THE  LIAR  767
ternal appellation: but the name of Hopkins he Miss Godfrey; am intimate with her family; and
took for an estate of his mother's; so he is indis- though you deserve but little from me, I will encriminately called Hopkins or Sybthorp: and  deavour to aid your intention. But if, in the pronow I recollect I have his letter in my pocket-  gress of this affair, you practise any of your usual
he signs himself Sybthorp Hopkins.           arts; if I discover the least falsehood, the least
0. Wild. There is no end of this: I must stop duplicity; remember, you have lost a father.
him at once. Hark ye, Sir: I think you are    Y. Wild. I shall submit without a murmur.
called my son?                                                      [Exit OLD WILDING.
Y. Wild. I hope, Sir, you have no reason to
doubt it.                                                 Enter PAPILLION.
0. Wild. And look upon yourself as a gen- Now, Papillion, I have news for you. My father
tleman?                                     has got to the bottom of the whole Abingdon
Y. Wild. In having the honour of descending business.
from you.                                      Pap. The deuce!
0. Wild. And that you think a sufficient pre-   YPt.ild. We parted this moment. Such a
tension?                                     scene 
Y. Wild. Sir —pray, Sir —                   Pap. And what was the issue?
O. Wild. And by what means do you imagine    I Wild. Happy beyond my hopes. Not only
your ancestors obtained that distinguishing title  an act of oblivion, but a promise to plead my cause
by their pre-eminence in virtue, I suppose.  with the fair.
Y. Wild; Doubtless, Sir.                    Pap. With Miss Godfrey!
O. Wild. And has it never occurred to you,   Y. Wild. Who else?-He is now with her in
that what was gained by honour might be lost by another room.
infamy?                                       Pap. And there is no-you understand me1. Wild. Perfectly, Sir.                  in all this?
0. Wild. Are you to learn what redress even    Y. Wild. No, no; that is all over now-my
the imputation of a lie demands; and that no- reformation is fixed.
thing less than the life of the adversary can ex-   Pap. As a weather-cock.
tinguish the affronts                          Y. Wild. Here comes my father.
Y. Wild. Doubtless, Sir.
O. WVild. Then how dare you call yourself a           Enter OLD WILDING.
gentleman. you, whose life has been one continued scene of fraud and falsity! And would   O. Wild. ~Vell, Sir, I find in this last article
tinued scene of fraud and falsity! And wouldt t
nothing content you but making me a partner in you have condescended to tell me the truth: the
your infamy? within this hour my life was nearly young lady is not averse to the union: but in order to fix so mutable a mind, I have drawn up a
sacrificed in defence of your fame: but perhaps that der to fix so mutable a mind, I have drawn up a
was your intention; and the story of your mar- slight contract, which you are both to sign.
riage merely calculated to send me out of the    I. Wild. With transport.
world, as a grateful return for bringing you into it.   O. Wild. I will introduce Miss Godfrey.
Y.T Wild. For Heaven's sake, Sir!                                               [Exit.
O. Wild. I am now deaf to your delusions.. Wild. Did not I tell you, Papillion 
Y. Wild. But hear me, Sir, I own the Abing-   Pap. This is amazing, indeed 
don business an absolute fiction.             IY. Wild. Am not I happy, fortunate? —-But
O. WVild. And how dare you-               they come.
Y. Wild. I crave but a moment's audience.    Enter OLD WILDING and Miss GODFREY.
0. Wild. Go on.
Y. Wild. Previous to the communication of   O. Wild. If, Madam, he has not the highest
your intention for me, I accidentally met with a sense of the great honour you do him, I shall
lady, whose charms-                         cease to regard himn.-There, Sir, make your own
0. Wild. So!-what, here's another marriage acknowledgments to that lady.
trumped out! but that is a stale device. And,   Y. Wild. Sir!
pray, Sir, what place does this lady inhabit? come,   0. Wild. This is more than you merit; but let
come, go on; you have a fertile invention, and your future behaviour testify your gratitude.
this is a fine opportunity. Well, Sir, and this   Y. Wild. Papillion I Madam! Sir!
charming lady, residing, I suppose, in nubibus-    0. Wild. What, is the puppy petrified!-Why
Y. Wild. No, Sir; in London.              don't you go up to the lady?
0. Wild. Indeed!                             Y. Wild. Up to the lady!-That lady!
Y. TVild. Nay, more, and at this instant in this   O. Wild. That lady!-to be sure. What
house.                                      other lady?-To Miss Godfrey.
0. Wild. And her name-                       Y. Wild. That lady Miss Godfrey? 
Y. Wild. Godfrey.                           O. Wild. What is all this? —Hark ye, Sir, 1
O. Wild. The friend of Miss Grantam?      see what you are at; but no trifling; I'll be no
Y. Wild. The very same, Sir.              more the dupe of your double detestable-Recollect
0. Wt7ild. Have you spoke to her?        my last resolution; this instant your hand to the
Y. Wild. Parted from her not ten minutes ago; contract, or tremble at the consequence.
nay, am here by her appointment.               Y. Wild. Sir, that, I hope, is-might not I —
O. Wild. Has she favoured your address?  to be sureY. Wild. Time, Sir, and your approbation,   0. Wild. No further evasions! There, Sir.
will, I hope.                                  Y. Wild. Heigh ho!              [Signs it.
O. Wild. Look ye, Sir, as there is some little   0. Wild. Very well.  Now, Madam, your
probability in this story, I shall think it worth name, if you please.
farther inquiry. To be plain with you, I know    Y. Wild. Papillion, do you know who she is 




7b3                               THE  LIAR.                                   [AC IL
Pap. That's a question, indeed! don't you,   0. Wild. What, married to him!
Sir 3                                          Kit. Most true.
i. Wild. Not I, as I hope to be saved.       Omnes. How!
Y. Wild. Sir, may I neverO. kWild. Peace, monster!-One question
Serv. A young lady begs to speak with Mr. more: your maiden name?
Wilding.                                      Kit. Sybthorp.
Y. Wild. With me  O. Wild. Lydia, from Abingdon, in the county
M[iss God. A young lady with Mr. Wilding!  of Berks?
Serv. Seems distressed, Madam, and extremely    Kit. The same.
pressing for admittance.                       0. Wild. As I suspected. So then the whole
Miss God. Indeed: there may be something in  story is true, and the monster is married at last.
this! You must permit me, Sir, to pause a little:    Y. W14ild. Me, Sir! by all that'swho knows but a prior claim may prevent-       O.'Wild. Eternal dumbness seize thee, meaO. Wild. How, Sir, who is this lady 3     sureless liar.
Y. Wild. It is impossible for me to divine, Sir.   Y. Wild. If not me, hear this gentleman. Ma-.
O. Wild. You know nothing of her?        quis —
Y. Wild. How should I                       Pap. Not I; I'll be drawn into some of your
O. Wild. You hear, Madam.                 scrapes: it is a pit of your own digging; and so.Iiss God. I presume your son can have no ob- get out as well as you can. Meantime I'll shift
jection to the lady's appearance.            for myself                           [Exit.
Y. WFild. Not in the least, Madam.          O. Wild. What evasion now, monster 3:Miss God. Show her in, John.  [Exit SERV.   Miss God. Deceiver!
O. Wild. No. Madam, I don't think there is    O. Wild. Liar!
the least room for suspecting him: he can't be so    Miss God. Impostor!
abandoned as to-But she is here.  Upon my    Y. Wild. Why, this is a general combination to
word, a sightly woman.                       distract me; but I will be heard. Sir, you are
grossly imposed upon: the low contriver of this
Enter KITTY as Miss SYBTHORP.         woman's shallow artifice I shall soon find means
to discover: and as to you, Madam, with whom I
Kit. Where is he 3-Oh, let me throw my have been suddenly surprised into a contract, I
arms-my life, my-                            most solemnly declare this is the first time I ever
Y. Wild. Hey-day!                        set eyes on you.
Kit. And could you leave me 3 and for so long   O0. Wild. Amazing confidence! did not I bring
a space 3 think how the tedious time has lagged her at your own request 3
along.                                         Y. Wild. No.
0. WVild. Madam!,1Iiss God. Is not this your own letter 3
Kit. But we are met at last, and now will part   Y. Wild. No.
no more.                                       Kit. Am not I your wife 
Y. TWild. The deuce we wont!                 Y Wild. No.
Kit. What, not one kind look; no tender word    0. Wild. Did not you own it to me?
to hail our second meeting                     Y. Wild. Yes-that i-no, no!
Y. Wild. What the devil is all this         Kit. Hear me.
Kit. Are all your oaths, your protestations,    Y.  ild. No.
come to this 3 have I deserved such treatment     Aiss God Answer me.
quitted my father's house, left all my friends, and    y Wild No
wandered here alone in search of thee, thou first,   0. Wild. Have not Ilast, only object of my love.                  Y. Wild. No, no, no. Zounds! you are all mad;
O. Wild. To what can all this tend? Hark ye, and if I stay, I shall catch the infection.  [Exit
Sir, unriddle this mystery.
Y. Wild. Davus, non (Edipus, sum. It is be-  Enter SIR JAMES ELLIOT and MIss GRANTAM
yond me, I confess. Some lunatic escaped from
her keeper, I suppose.. 
Kit. Am I disowned then, contemned, slighted3    Miss Gr. Finely performed.
0. Wild. Hold; let me inquire into this mat-   0. Wild. You have kept your promise, and 1
ter a little. Pray, Madam-You seem to be thank you, Madam.
pretty familiar here.-Do you know this gentle-   Miss Gr. My medicine was somewhat rough,
man?                                       Sir; but in desperate cases, you knowKit. Too well.                               O. Wild. If his cure is completed, he will
0. Wild. His name3                        gratefully acknowledge the cause; if not, the punKit. Wilding.                             ishment comes far short of his crimes. It is needO. Wild. So far she is right. Now yours, if less to pay you any compliments, Sir James;
you please 3                                with that lady you can't fail to be happy. I sha'n't
Kit. Wilding.                             venture to hint a scheme I have greatly at heart,
Omnes. Wilding!                           till we have undeniable proofs of the success of
0. Wild. And how came you by that name, our operations. To the ladies, indeed, no chapray 3                                      racter is so dangerous as that of a liar:
Kit. Most lawfully, Sir: by the sacred band,   They in the fairest fames can fix a flaw,
the holy tie that made us one.                And vanquish females whom they never saw.




TANCRED AND SIGISMUNDA:
A TR AGEDY,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY JAMES THOMSON, ESQ.
DRAMATIS PE RSON2E.
TANCRED, Count of Leece.
MATTEO SIFFREDI, Lord High Chancellor of Sicily.
EARL OSMOND, Lord High Constable of Sicily.
ROD'OLPHO, Friend to Tancred, and Captain of the Guards.
SIGTSMUNDA, Daughter of Siffredi.
LAURA, Sister of Rodolpho, and Friend to Sigismunda.
Barons, Officers, Guards, &c.
SCENE.-The City of PALERMO in Italy.
PROLOGUE.                                      ACT I.
BOLD is the man! who, in this nicer age,             SCENE I.-The Palace.
Presumes to tread the chaste, corrected stage,
NOW, with gay tinsel arts, we can no more
Conceal the want of nature's sterling ore.    Sig. Ah, fatal day to Sicily! the king
Our spells are vanish'd, broke our magic wand,  Touches his last moments!
That us'd to waft you over sea and land.      Laura. So'tis fear'd.
Before your light the fairy people fade,      Sig. The death of those distinguish'd by their
The demons fly-the ghost itself is laid.            station,
In vain of martial scenes the loud alarms,  But by their virtue more, awakes the mind
The mighty prompter thundering out to arms,   To solemn dread, and strikes a saddening awe:
The playhouse posse clattering from afar,   Not that we grieve for them, but for ourselves,
The close-wedged battle, and the din of war.    Left to the toil of life-And yet the best
Now, even the senate seldom we convene;     Are, by the playful children of this world,
The yawning fathers nod behind the scene.   At once forgot, as they had never been.
Your taste rejects the glittering, false sublime,   Laura,'tis said, the heart is sometimes charged
To sigh in metaphor, and die in rhyme.      With a prophetic sadness; such, methinks,
High rant is tumbled from his gallery throne;   Now hangs on mine. The king's approaching
Description, dreams-nay, similes are gone.          death
What shall we then t to please you how de- Suggests a thousand fears.  What troubles
vise,                                       thence
Whose judgment sits not in your ears nor eyes? May throw the state once more into confusion,
Thrice happy, could we catch great Shakspeare's What sudden changes in my father's house
art,                               May rise, and part me from my dearest TanTo trace the deep recesses of the heart:            cred,
His simple, plain sublime, to which is given  Alarms my thoughts.
To strike the soul with darted flame from    Laura. The fears of love-sick fancy!
Heaven:                             Perversely busy to torment itself.
Could we awake soft Otway's tender wo.      But be assured, your father's steady friendship,
The pomp of verse and golden lines of Rowe.   Join'd to a certain genius, that commands,
We to your hearts apply: let them attend;    Not kneels to fortune, will support and cherish,
Before their silent, candid bar we bend.    Here in the public eye of Sicily,
If warm'd they listen,'tis our noblest praise:    This, I may call him, his adopted son,
If cold, they wither all the Muse's bays.   The noble Tancred, form'd to all his virtues.
VYL. I....5 E      65                                                   769




770                  TANCRED AND SIGISMUNDA.                                    [ACT I.
Sig. Ah, form'd to charm his daughter!-this   Sig. And what, my Laura, says he on the
fair morn                                    subject?
Has tempted far the chase. Is he not yet       Laura. He says that, though he was not ne
Return'd?                                           bly born,
Laura. No.-When your father to the king,  Nature has form'd him noble, generous, brave,
WEho now expiring lies, was call'd in haste,  Truly magnanimous, and warmly scorning
He sent each way his messengers to find him;   Whatever bears the smallest taint of baseness;
With such a look of ardour and impatience,   That every easy virtue is his own;
As if this near event was to Count Tancred   Not learnt by painful labour, but inspir'd,
Of more importance than I comprehend.        Implanted in his soul.-Chiefly one charm
Sig. There lies, my Laura, o'er my Tancred's He in his graceful character observes;
birth                                That though his passions burn with high itn
A cloud I cannot pierce. With princely accost,       patience,
Nay, with respect, which oft I have observ'dl,    And sometimes, from a noble heat of nature.,
Stealing at times submissive o'er his features,    Are ready to fly off; yet the least check
In Belmont's woods my father rear'd  this Of ruling reason brings them back to temper,
youth —                             And gentle softness.
Ah, woods! where first my artless bosom learn'd   Sig. True! Oh, true, Rodolpho!
The sighs of love.-He gives him out the son    Bless'd be. thy kindred worth, for loving his!
Of an old friend, a baron of Apulia,         He is all warmth, all amiable fire,
W5Tho in the late crusado bravely fell.      All quick, heroic ardour! temper'd soft
But then'tis strange; is all his family     With gentleness of heart, and manly reason!
As well as father dead? and all their friends,   If virtue-were to wear a human form,
Except my sire, the generous, good Siffredi     To light it with her dignity and flame,
Had he a mother, sister, brother left,       Then  softening mix her smiles and tender
The last remain of kindred;* with what pride,        graces;
What rapture, might they fly o'er earth and Oh, she would choose the person of my Tancred!
sea,                                 Go on, my friend, go on, and ever praise him;
To claim this rising honour of their blood!  The subject knows no bounds, nor can I tire,
This bright unknown! this all-accomplish'd While my breast trembles to that sweetest
youth!                                       music!
Who charms too much the heart of Sigismunda! The heart of woman tastes no truer joy,
Laura, perhaps your brother knows him better,  Is never flatter'd with such dear enchantmentThe friend and partner of his freest hours.'Tis more than selfish vanity-as when
What says Rodolpho? Does he truly credit    She hears the praises of the man she lovesThis story of his birth?                      Laura. Madam, your father comes.
Laura. He has sometimes,
Like you, his doubts; yet, when maturely                   Enter SaFREDI.
weigh'd,                               Sif. [To an ATTENDANT as he enters.] Lord
Believes it true. As for Lord Tancred's self,        Tancred
He never entertain'd the slightest thought   Is found?
That verg'd to doubt; but oft laments mis state,    At. My lord, he quickly will be here.
By cruel fortune so ill pair'd to yours.     I scarce could keep before him, though he bid
Sig. Merit like his, the fortune of the mind,      me
Beggars all wealth-Then, to your brother, Speed on, to say he would attend your orders.
Laura,.Sif.'Tis  well-retire-  You  too, my
He talks of me 7                                     daughter, leave me.
Laura. Of nothing else. Howe'er              Sig. I go, my father, but how fares the king? 
The talk begin, it ends with Sigisminunda.     Sif He is no more. Gone to that awful state,
Their morning, noontide, and theirl evening Where kings the crown wear only of their virwalks,                                      tues.
Are full of you, and all the woods of Belmont  Sig. How bright must then be his!-This
Enamour'd with your name-                            stroke is sudden;;Sig. Away, my friend,                     He was this morning well, when to the chase
You flatter-yet the dear delusion charms.    Lord Tancred went.
Laura. No, Sigismunda,'tis the strictest   Sif.'Tis true. But at his years
truth,                               Death gives short notice-Drooping nature then,
Nor half the truth, I tell you. Even with fond- Without a gust of pain to shake it, falls.
ness                                His death, my daughter, was that happy period
My brother talks for ever of the passion,    Which few attain. The duties of his day
That fires young Tancred's breast. So much I Were all discharg'd, and gratefully enjoy'd
it strikes him,                     Its noblest blessings; calm as evening skies
He praises love as if he were a lover.       Was his pure mind, and lighted up with hopes
He blames the false pursuits of vagrant youth,   That open heaven; when for his last long sleep
Calls them gay folly, a mistaken struggle    Timely prepar'd, a lassitude of life,
Against best judging nature. Heaven, he says, A pleasing weariness of mortal joy,
In lavish'd bounty form'd the heart for love;  Fell on his soul, and down he sunk to rest.
In love included all the finer seeds         Oh, may my death be such!- He but one wish
Of honour, virtue, friendship, purest bliss-  Left unfulfill'd, which was to see Count TanSig. Virtuous Rodolpho!                            credLaura. Then his-pleasing theme               Sig. To see Count Tancred!-Pardon me,
H:e varies to the praises of your lover —--          my lord



srENE I.]            TANCRELD AND SIGISMUNDA.                                      771
Sif. For what, my daughter? —But, with such  Gave sign of sad conjecture. Others show'd,
emotion,                             Athwart their grief, or real or affected,
Why did you start at mention of Count Tan- A gleam of expectation, from what chance
cred-                                A change might bring. A mingled murmur ran
Sig. Nothing-I only hop'd the dying king    Along the streets; and from the lonely court
Might.mean to make some generous just pro- Of him who can no more assist their fortunes,
vision                              I saw the courtier-fry, with eager haste,
For this worthy charge, this noble orphan.   All hurrying to Constantia.
Sif. And he has done it largely-Leave me    Sif. Noble youth!
now-                                I joy to hear from thee these just reflections,
I want some private conference with Lord Tan- Worthy of riper years-But if they seek
cred. [Exeunt SIGISMUNDA and LAURA. Constantia, trust me, they mistake their course.
My doubts are but too true-If these old eyes   Tan. How! Is she not, my lord, the late
Can trace the marks of love, a mutual passion        king's sister,
Has seiz'd, I fear, my daughter and this prince,  Heir to the crown of Sicily' the last
My sovereign now-Should it be so' Ah, there, Of our fam'd Norman line, and now our queen?
There lurks a brooding tempest, that may shake    Sif. Tancred,'tis true; she is the late king's
My long concerted scheme, to settle firm             sister,
The public peace and welfare, which the king    The sole surviving offspring of that tyrant
Has made the prudent basis of his will-      William the Bad-so for his vices styl'd;
Away, unworthy views! you shall not tempt Who spilt much noble blood, and sore oppress'd'
me!                                 Th' exhausted land: whence grievous wars
Nor interest nor ambition shall seduce               arose,
-My fix'd resolve-Perish the selfish thought,  And many a dire convulsion shook the state.
Which our own good prefers to that of mi!hons! When he, whose death Sicilia mourns to-day,
He comes, my king, unconscious of his fortune.  William, who has and well deserv'd the name
Of Good, succeeding to his father's throne,
Enter TANCRED.                 Reliev'd his country's woes-But to return;
She is the late king's sister, born some months
Ttan. My Lord Siffredi, in your looks I read   After the tyrant's death, but not next heir.
Confirm'd, the mournful news that fly abroad   Tan. You much surprise me-May I then
From tongue to tongue-We then, at last, have         presume
lost'To ask who is?
The good old king?                             Sif. Come nearer, noble Tancred,
9Sf. Yes, we have lost a father!          Son of my care. I must, on this occasion,
The greatest blessing Heaven bestows on mor- Consult thy generous heart; which, when con,
tals,                                        ducted
And seldom found amidst these wiles of time.    By rectitude of mind and honest virtues,
A good, a worthy king!-Hear me, my Tancred, Gives better counsel than the hoary headAnd I will tell thee, in a few plain words,  Then know, there lives a prince, here in PaHow he deserv'd that best, that glorious title.      lermo,'Tis nought complex,'tis clear as truth and vir- The lineal offspring of our famous hero,
tue.                                Roger the First.
HIe'lov'd his people, deem'd them all his children;    Tan. Great Heaven! how far remov'd
The good exalted, and depress'd the bad.    From that our mighty founder.
He spurn'd the flattering crew, with scorn re-   &f.  His great grandson:
jected                              Sprung from his eldest son, who died untimely,
Their smooth advice that only means themselves, Before his father.
Their schemes to aggrandize him into baseness;    Tan. Ha! the prince you mean,
Nor did he less disdain the secret breath,   Is he not Manfred's son? The generous, brave,
The whisper'd tale, that blights a virtuous name. Unhappy Manfred! whom the tyrant William,
He sought alone the good of those for whom  You just now mention'd, not content to spoil
He was intrusted with the sovereign power:  Of his paternal crown, threw into fetters,
Well knowing that a people, in their rights  And infamously murder'd 2
And industry protected, living safe            Sit. Yes, the same.
Beneath the sacred shelter of the laws,        Tan. By Heavens, I joy to find our Norman
Encourag'd in their genius, arts, and labours,       reign,
And happy each as he himself deserves,       The world's sole light amidst these barbarous
Are ne'er ungrateful. With an unsparing hand         ages,
They will for him provide: their filial love  Yet rears its head; and shall not, from  the
-And confidence are his unfailing treasure,          lance,
And every honest man his faithful guard.     Pass to the feeble distaff.-But this prince,
Tan. A general face of grief o'erspreads the Where has he lain conceal'd.
city.                                  Sif. The late good king,
I mark'd the people, as I hither came,       By noble pity mov'd, contriv'd to save him
In crowds assembled, struck with silent sorrow,  From his dire father's unrelenting rage,
And pouring forth the noblest praise of tears.    And had him rear'd in private, as became
Those, whom remembrance of their former woes, His birth and hopes, with high and princely
And long experience of the vain illusions            nurture,
Of youthful hope, had into wise consent      Till now, too young to rule a troubled state,
And fear of change corrected, wrung their hands, By civil broils most miserably torn,
And, often casting up their eyes to heaven,  He in his safe retreat has lain conceal'd,




772                 TANCRED AND- SIGISMUNDA.                                   (AC T.
His birth and fortune to himself unknown;    Nothing so easy as in speculation,
But when the dying king to me intrusted,     And at a distance seen, the course of honour,
As to the chancellor of the realm, his will,  A fair delightful champaign strew'd with flowers.
His successor he nam'd him.                  But when the practice comes; when our fond
Tan. Happy youth!                                  passions,
He then will triumph o'er his father's foes,  Pleasure and pride, and self-indulgence,.throw
O'er haughty Osmond, and the tyrant's daughter. Their magic dust around, the prospect roughens;
Sif. Ay, that is what I dread-the heat of Then dreadful passes, craggy mountains rise,
youth;                              Cliffs to be scal'd, and torrents to be stemm'd;
There lurks, I fear, perdition to the state.  Then toil ensues, and perseverance stern;
I dread the horrors of rekindled war:        And endless combats with our grosser sense,
Though dead, the tyrant still is to be fear'd;  Oft lost, and oft renew'd; and generous pain
His daughter's party still is strong and numerous: For others felt; and, harder lesson still!
Her friend, Earl Osmond, constable of Sicily,    Our honest bliss for others sacrific'd;
Experienc'd, brave, high-born, of mighty interest. And all the rugged task of virtue quells
Better the prince and princess should by marriage The stoutest heart of common resolution,
Unite their friends, their interest, and their Few get above this turbid scene of strife.
claims!                             Few gain the summit, breathe that purest air,
Then will the peace and welfare of the land  That heavenly ether, which untroubled sees
On a firm basis rise.                        The storm of vice and passion rage below.
Tan. My Lord Siffredi,                       Tanm. Most true, my lord. But why thus au.
If by myself I of this prince may judge,             gur ill!
That scheme will scarce succeed-Your prudent You seem to doubt this prince. I know him not.
age                                 Yet, oh, methinks, my heart could answer for
In vain will counsel, if the heart forbid it-        him I!
But wherefore fear. The right is clearly his;    The juncture is so high, so strong the gale
And, under your direction, with each man     That blows from Heaven, as through the deadest
Of worth and steadfast loyalty to back               soul
At once the king's appointment and his birth- Might breathe the godlike energy of virtue.
right,                                  S/f. Hear him, immortal shades of his great
There is no ground for fear. They have great         fathers!odds,                                Forgive me, Sir, this trial of your heart.
Against th' astonish'd sons of violence,     Thou! thou, art he!
Who fight with awful justice on their side.    Tan. Siffredi!
All Sicily will rouse, all faithful hearts     Sif. Tancred, thou!
Will range themselves around Prince Manfred's Thou art the man of all the many thousands
son.                                That toil upon the bosom of this isle,
For me, I here devote me to the service      By Heaven elected to command the rest,
Of this young prince; I every drop of blood  To rule, protect them, and to make them happy'
Will lose with joy, with transport, in his cause-    Tan. Manfred my father! I the last support
Pardon my warmth-but that, my lord, will Of the fam'd Norman line, that awes the world!
never                               I, who this morning wander'd forth an orphan,
To this decision come.-Then find the prince;   Outcast of all but thee, my second father!
Lose not a moment to awaken in him           Thus call'd to glory! to the first great lot
The royal soul. Perhaps he now, desponding,  Of human-kind!-Oh, wonder-working hand,
Pines in a corner, and laments his fortune;  That, in majestic silence, sways at will
That in the narrower bounds of private life  The mighty movements of unbounded nature;
He must confine his aims, those swelling virtues Oh, grant me, Heaven, the virtues to sustain
Which from his noble father he inherits.     This awful burden of so many heroes!
Sif. Perhaps, regardless, in the common bane Let me not be exalted into shame,
Of youth, he melts, in vanity and love.      Set up the worthless pageant of vain grandeur.l
But if the seeds of virtue glow within him,  Meantime I thank the justice of the king,
I will awake a higher sense, a love          Who has my right bequeath'd me. Thee, SifThat grasps the loves and happiness of millions.     fredi,
Tan. Why that surmise. Or should he love, I thank thee-Oh, I ne'er enough can thank
Siffredi,                                   thee!
I doubt not, it is nobly, which will raise  Yes, thou hast been-thou art-shalt be my faAnd animate his virtues-Oh, permit me                ther!
To plead the cause of youth-Their virtue oft,  Thou shalt direct my unexperienc'd years,
In pleasure's soft enchantment lull'd awhile,  Shalt be the ruling head, and. I the hand.
Forgets itself; it sleeps and gaily dreams,    Sif. It is enough for me-to see my sovereign
Till great occasion rouse it; then, all flame,  Assert his virtues, and maintain his honour.
It walks abroad, with heichten'd soul and vigour,   Tan. I think, my lord, you said the king comnAnd by the change astonishes the world.              mitted
Even with a kind of sympathy, I feel         To you his will. I hope it is not clogg'd
The joy that waits this prince; when all the With any base conditions, any clause,
powers,                             To tyrannize my heart, and to Constantia'rh' expanding heart can wish, of doing good;   Enslave my hand devoted to another.
Whatever swells ambition, or exalts          The hint you just now gave of that alliance,
The human soul into divine emotions,        You must imagine, wakes my fear. But know,
All crowd at once upon him.                 In this alone I will not bear dispute,
Sif Ah, my Tancred,                       Not even from thee, Siffredi! —Let the council




SCENE 1.]           TANCRED AND SIGISMUNDA.                                     773
Be straightassembled, and the will there open'd:    Tan. Thou art my queen! the sovereign of
Thence issue speedy orders to convene,             my soul!
This day, ere noon, the senate: where those ba- You never reign'd with such triumphant lustire
rons,                              Such winning charms, as now; yet thou art still
Who now are in Palermo, Will attend,       The dear, the tender, generous Sigismunda 
To pay their ready homage to the king,     Who, with a heart exalted far above
Their rightful king, who claims his native crown, Those selfish views that charm the common
And will not be a king by deeds and parchments.    breast,
Sif: I go, my liege. But once again permit Stoop'd from the height of life and courted beauty,
me                                 Then, then, to love me, when I seem'd of fortune
To tell you-Now, is the trying crisis,     The hopeless outcast, when I had no friend,
That must determine of your future reign.  None to protect and own me, but thy father.
Oh, with heroic rigour watch your heart!   And wouldst thou claim all goodness to thyself?
And to the sovereign duties of the king,   Canst thou thy Tancred deem so dully form'd,
Th' unequall'd pleasures of a god on earth,  Of such gross clay, just as I reach'd the point —
Submit the common joys, the common passions,  A point my wildest hopes could ne'er imagineNay, even the virtues of the private man.  In that great moment, full of every virtue,
Tan. Of that no more. They not oppose, but That I should then so mean a traitor prove
aid,                               To the best bliss and honour of mankind,
Invigorate, cherish, and reward each other,  So much disgrace the human heart, as then,
The kind all-ruling wisdom is no tyrant.   For the dead form of flattery and pomp,
[Exit SIFFREDI. The faithless joys of courts, to quit kind truth,
Now, generous Sigismunda, comes my turn    The cordial sweets of friendship and of love,
To show my love was not of thine unworthy,    The life of life! my all, my Sigismunda?
When fortune bade me blush to look to thee. -   I could upbraid thy fears, call them unkind,
But what is fortune to the wish of love?  Cruel, unjust, an outrage to my heart,
A miserable bankrupt! Oh,'tis poor,       Did they not spring from love.'Tis scanty all, whate'er we can bestow!     Sig. Think not, my lord,
The wealth of kings is wretchedness and want! That to such vulgar doubts I can descend.
Quick, let me find her! taste that highest joy,   Your heart, I know, disdains the little thought
Th' exalted heart can know, the mix'd effusion   Of changing with the vain, external change
Of gratitude and love!-Behold she comes!  Of circumstance and fortune. Rather thence
It would, with rising ardour, greatly feel
Enter STlISMUNDA.              A noble pride, to show itself the same.
But, ah! the hearts of kings are not their own,
My fluttering soul was all on wing to find thee,  There is a haughty duty that subjects them
My love, my Sigismunda!                   To chains of state, to wed the public welfare,,Sig. Oh, my Tancred!                    And not indulge the tender private virtues.
Tell me, what means this mystery and gloom  Some high descended princess, who will bring
That lowers around? Just now, involv'd in New power and interest to your throne, demands
thought,                           Your royal hand-perhaps Constantia —My father shot athwart me-You, my lord,       Tan. She!
Seem strangely mov'd-I fear some dark event,  Oh, name her not! were I this moment free
From the king's death, to trouble our repose,    And disengag'd as he who never felt
That tender calm we in the woods of Belmont   The powerful eye of beauty, never sigh'd
So happily enjoy'd-Explain this hurry      For matchless worth like thine, I should abhor
What means it? Say.                       All thoughts of that alliance. Her fell father
Tan. It means that we are happy!        Most basely murder'd mine; and she, his daugh
Beyoln;i our most romantic wishes happy!           ter
Sig. You but perplex me more.            Supported by his barbarous party still,
Tan. It means, my fairest,               His pride inherits, his imnperious spirit,
That thou art queen of Sicily; and I       And insolent pretensions to my throne,
The happiest.of mankind! than monarch more! And, canst thou deem me then so poorly tame,
Because with thee I can adorn my throne.   So cool a traitor to my father's blood,
Manfred, who fell by tyrant William's rage,    As from the prudent cowardice of state
Fam'd Roger's lineal issue, was my father.  E'er to submit to such a base proposal?
[Pausing. Detested thought! Oh, doubly, doubly hateful!
You droop, my love; dejected on a sudden;  From the two strongest passions; from aversion
You seem to mourn my fortune-The soft tear  To this Constantia-and from love to thee.
Springs in thy eye-Oh, let me kiss it off-  Custom,'tis true, a venerable tyrant,
Why this, my Sigismunda.          O'er servile man extends a blind dominion:
Sig. Royal Tancred,                      The pride of kings enslave them; their ambition,
None at your glorious fortune can like me  Or interest, lords it o'er the better passions.
Rejoice;-yet me alone, of all Sicilians,   But vain their talk, mask'd under specious words
It makes unhappy.                          Of station, duty, and of public good.
Tan. I should hate it then!              They whom just Heaven has to a throne exalted,
Should throw, with scorn, the splendid ruin To guard the rights and liberties of others,
from me!                           What duty binds them to betray their own?
No, Sigismunda,'tis my hope with thee     For me, my free-born heart shall bear no dictates,
ro share it, whence it draws its richest value.   But those of truth and honour; wear no chains,
Sig. You are my sovereign-I at humble dis- But the dear chains of love, and Sigismunda!
tance-                             Or if, indeed, my choice must be directed
65*




774                TANCRED AND SIGISMUNDA.                                     [Ac'rit.:
By views of public good, whom shall I choose    Which love has thrown betwixt? Love, that
So fit to grace, to dignify a crown,                 disturbs
And beam sweet mercy on a happy people,      The schemes of wisdom still; that, wing'd with
As thee, my love?   Whom  place upon my              passion,
throne                              Blind and impetuous in its fond pursuits,
But thee, descended from the good Siffredi?  Leaves the gray-headed reason far behind.'Tis fit that heart be thine, which drew from him  Alas, how frail the state of human bliss!
Whate'er can make it worthy thy acceptance.   When even our honest passions oft destroy it.
Sig. Cease, cease to raise my hopes above my I was to blame, in solitude and shades,
duty.                               Infectious scenes! to trust their youthful hearts.
Charm me no more, my Tancred!-Oh, that we Would I had mark'd the rising flame that now
In those bless'd woods, where first you won my Burns out with dangerous force!-My daughter
soul,                                        owns
Had pass'd our gentle days; far from the toil    Her passion for the king; she trembling own'd
And pomp of courts! Such is the wish of love,        it,
Of love that, with delightful weakness, knows   With prayers, and tears, and tender supplicaNo bliss, and no ambition but itself.                tions,
But in the world's full light, those charming That almost shook my firmness-And this
dreams,                                     blank,
Those fond illusions vanish. Awful duties!    Which his rash fondness gave her, shows how
The tyranny of men, even your own heart,             much,
Where lurks a sense your passion stifles now,   To what a wild extravagance he lovesAnd proud imperious honour, call you from me. I see no means-it foils my deepest thought-'Tis all in vain-you cannot hush a voice     How to controul this madness of the king.
That murmurs here    I must not be per- That wears the face of virtue, and will thence
suaded!                            Disdain restraint, will, from his generous heart,
Tan. [Kneeling.] Hear me, thou soul of all my Borrow new rage, even speciously oppose
hopes and wishes!                    To reason reason- But it must be done.
And witness Heaven, prime source of love and My own advice, of which I more and more
N   joy!                             Approve, the strict conditions of the will,
Not a whole warring world combin'd against me, Highly demand his marriage with Constantia;
Its pride, its splendour, its imposing forms,  Or else her party has a fair pretence- -
Nor interest, nor ambition, nor the face     And all at once is horror and confusionOf solemn state, not even thy father's wisdom,   How issue from this maze'l-'he crowding
Shall ever shake my faith to Sigismunda!             barons
Trumpets and acclamations heard. Here summon'd to the palace, meet already,
But hark! the public voice to duties calls me,    To pay their homage, and confirm the will.
Which with unwearied zeal I will discharge;    On a few moments hangs the public fate,
And thou, yes, thou, shalt be my bright re- On a few hasty moments-Ha! there shone
ward-                                A gleam of hope-Yes, with this very paper
Yet-ere I go-to hush thy lovely fears,       I yet will save him —Necessary means
Thy delicate objections-[Writes his name.] For good and noble ends, can ne'er be wrong.
Take this blank,                    In that resistless, that peculiar case,
Sign'd with my name, and give it to thy father:  Deceit is truth and virtue —But how hold
Tell him,'tis my command it be fill'd up    This lion in the toil?-Oh, I will form it
With a most strict and solemn marriage-con- Of such a fatal thread, twist it so strong
tract.                              With all the ties of honour and of duty,
How dear each tie! how charming to my soul!  That his most desperate fury shall not break
That more unites me to my Sigismunda.        The honest snare. -Here is the royal handFor thee, and for my people's good to live,  I will beneath it write a perfect, full,
Is all the bliss which sovereign power can give.  And absolute agreement to the will;
[Exeunt. Which read before the nobles of the realm
Assembled, in the sacred face of Sicily,
ACT II.                    Constantia present, every heart and eye
Fix'd on their monarch, every tongue applaudSCENE I.-A Grand Saloon.                     ing,
He must submit, his dream  of love must
vanishS/f: So far'tis well-The late king's will It shall be done-To me, I know'tis ruin;
proceeds                            But safety to the public, to the king.
Upon the plan I counsell'd; that Prince Tancred I will not reason more, I will not listen
Shall make Constantia partner of his throne.    Even to the voice of honour.-No-'tis fix'd!
Oh, great, oh, wish'd event! whence the dire I here devote me for my prince and country;
seeds                               Let them be safe, and let me nobly perish!
Of dark intestine broils, of civil war,      Behold, Earl Osmond comes, without whose aid
And all its dreadful miseries and crimes,   _My schemes are all in vain.
Shall be for ever rooted from the land.
May these dim eyes, long blasted by the rage
Of cruel faction and my country's woes,        Osm. My Lord Siffredi,
Tir'd with the toils and vanities of life,   I from the council hasten to Constantia,
Behold this period, then be clos'd in peace!  And have accomplish'd what we there propose'
But how this mighty obstacle surmount,       The princess to the will submits her claims.




srENE.L]             TANCRED AND SIGISMUNDA.                                       775
She with her presence means to grace the    Sif. I will attend him straight-Farewell, my
senate,                                      lord;
And of your royal charge, young Tancred's The senate meets: there, a few moments hence
hand,                                I will rejoin you.
Accept. At first, indeed, it shock'd her hopes  Osm. There, my noble lord,
Of reigning sole, this new, surprising scene  We will complete this salutary work;
Of Manfred's son, appointed by the king,     Will there begin a new auspicious era.
With her joint heir-But I so fully show'd                  [Exeunt SIFFREDI and OFFICER.
The justice of the case, the public good,    Siffredi gives his daughter to my wishesAnd sure establish'd peace which thence would  But does she give herself2  Gay, young, and
rise,                                        flatter'd,
Join'd to the strong necessity that urg'd her,  Perhaps engag'd, will she her youthful heart
If on Sicilia's throne she meant to sit,     Yield to my harsher, uncomplying years.
As to the wise disposal of the will          I am not form'd, by flattery and praise,
Her high ambition tam'd. Methought, besides,  By sighs and tears, and all the whining trade
I could discern, that not from prudence merely    Of love, to feed a fair one's vanity;
She to this choice submitted.                To charm at once and spoil her. These soft
Sif. Noble Osmond,                                 arts
You have. in this done to the public great   Nor suit my ears nor temper; these be left
And signal service. Yes, I must avow it;     To boys and doting age. A prudent father,
This frank and ready instance of your zeal,  By nature charg'd to guide and rule her choice,
In such a trying crsis of the state,         Resigns his daughter to a husband's power,
When interest and ambition might have warp'd  Who, with superior dignity, with reason,
Your views, I own, this truly generous virtue    And manly tenderness, will ever love her;
Upbraids the rashness of my former judgment.   Not first a kneeling slave, -and then a tyrant.
Osm. Siffredi, no.  To you belongs the                   Enter BARONS.
praise;
The glorious work is yours. Had I not seiz'd,   My lords, I greet you well.  This wondrous
Improv'd the wish'd occasion to root out             day
Division from the land, and sav'd my country,    Unites us all in amity and friendship.
I had been base and infamous for ever.       We meet to-day with open hearts and looks,'Tis you, my lord, to whom  the many thou- Not gloom'd by party, scowling on each other,
sands,                               But all the children of one happy isle,
That by the barbarous sword of civil war     The social sons of liberty. No pride,
Had fallen inglorious, owe their lives; to you  No passion now, no thwarting views divide us:
The sons of this fair isle, from her first peers    Prince Manfred's line, at last to William's
Down to the swain who tills her golden plains        join'd,
Owe their safe homes, their soft domestic hours,  Combine us in one family of brothers.
And through late time posterity shall bless  This to-the late good king's well-ordered will
you,                                 And wise Siffredi's generous care, we owe.
You who advis'd this will.-I blush to think  I truly give you joy. First of you all,
I have so long oppos'd the best good man     I here renounce those errors and divisions
In Sicily-With what impartial care           That have so long disturb'd our peace, and
Ought we to watch o'er prejudice and passion,        seem'd
Nor trust too much the jaundiced eye of party!  Fermenting still, to threaten new commotionsHenceforth its vain delusions I renounce,    By time instructed, let us not disdain
Its hot determinations, that confine         To quit mistakes.  We all, my lords, have
All merit and all virtue to itself.                  err'd.
To yours I join my hand; with you will own   Men may, I find, be honest, though they differ.
No interest and no party but my country.       1st Baron. Who follows not, my lord, the fair
Nor is your friendship only my ambition:             example
There is a dearer name, the name of father,  You set us all, whate'er be his pretence,
By which I should rejoice to call Siffredi.  Loves not, with single and unbias'd heart,
Your daughter's hand would to the public weal  His country as he ought.
Unite my private happiness.                    2nd Baron. Oh, beauteous peace!
Sif. My lord,                              Sweet union of a state! what else but thou
You have my glad consent. To be allied       Gives safety, strength, and glory to a people?
To your distinguish'd family and merit,      I bow, lord constable, beneath the snow
I shall esteem an honour. From my soul       Of many years; yet in my breast revives
I here embrace Earl Osmond as my friend      A youthful flame. Methinks, I see again
And son.                                     Those gentle days renew'd that bless'd our isle
Osm. You make him happy. This assent,    Ere by this wasteful fury of division,
So frank and warm, to what I long have Worse than our iEtna's most destructive fires,
wish'd,                              It desolated sunk. I see our plains
Engages all my gratitude; at once,           Unbounded waving with the gifts of harvest;
In the first blossom, it matures our friendship.    Our seas with commerce throng'd; our busy
I from this moment vow myself the friend             port
And zealous servant of Siffredi's house.     With cheerful toil. Our Enna blooms afresh;
Enter an OF FICER belonging to the Court.    Afresh the sweets of thymy Hybla flow.
Our nymphs and shepherds sporting in each
Off. [To SIFFIRED.] The king, my lord, de-         vale,
mands your speedy presence.            Inspire new song, and wake the pastoral reed-.



776                TANCRED AND SIGISMUNDA.                                  [ACT II.
The tongue of age is fond-Come, come, my Or I mistake the king-back from the pomp
sons;                              He seem'd at first to shrink, and round his
I long to see this prince, of whom the world       brow
Speaks largely well-His father was my friend, I mark'd a gathering cloud, when, by his side,
The brave, unhappy Manfred —Come, my lords; As if design'd to share the public homage,
We tarry here too long.                    He saw the tyrant's daughter. But confess'd
At least to me the doubling tempest frown'd,
Enter two OFFICERs, keeping off the Crowd.   And shook his swelling bosom, when he heard
Th' unjust, the base conditions of the will.
One of the Crowd. Show us our king,      Uncertain, toss'd in cruel agitation,
The valiant Manfred's son, who lov'd the peo- He oft, methought, address'd himself to speak,
ple-                               And interrupt Siffredi; who appear'd,
We must, we will behold him-Give us way.    With conscious haste, to dread that interrup1st Of. Pray, gentlemen, give back-it must       tion,
not be                             And hurried on-But hark! I hear a noise,
Give back, I pray-on such a glad occasion,   As if th' assembly rose-Ha! Sigismunda,
I would not ill entreat the lowest of you.  Oppress'd with grief, and wrapp'd in pensive
2d Man of the Crowd. Nay, give us but a          sorrow,
glimpse of our young king.         Passes along.
We more than any baron of them all,            [SIGISMUNDA and Attendants pass through
Will pay him due allegiance.                       the back Scene.
2d O.f. Friends, indeed
You cannot pass this way-We have strict                   Enter LAURA
orders,
To keep for him himself, and for the barons,  Laura. Your high-prais'd friend, the king,
All these apartments clear — Go to the gate   Is false, most vilely false. The meanest slave
That fronts the sea, you there will find admis- Had shown a nobler heart; nor grossly thus,
sion.                              By the first bait ambition spread, been gull'd.
Omnes. Long live King Tancred! Manfred's He Manfred's son! away! it cannot be!
son-huzza!         [Crowd goes off. The son of that brave prince could ne'er betray
Ist Of. I do not marvel at their rage of joy.   Those rights so long usurp'd from his great faHe is a brave and amiable prince.                  ther.
When in my Lord Siffredi's house I liv'd,  Which he, this day, by such amazing fortune,
Ere by his favour I obtain'd this office,  Had just regain'd; he ne'er could sacrifice
I there remember well the young Count Tan- All faith, all honour, gratitude, and love,
cred.                              Even just resentment of his father's fate,
To see him and to love him were the saane;  And pride itself; whate'er exalts a man
He was so noble in his ways, yet still     Above the grovelling sons of peasant mud,
So affable and mild-Well, well, old Sicily,   All in a moment-And for what 1 why, truly,
Yet happy days await thee!                For kind permission, gracious leave, to sit
2d Off. Grant it, Heaven!                On his own throne with tyrant William's daughWe have seen sad and troublesome times             ter!
enough,                              Rod. I stand amaz'd-You surely wrong him
He is, they say, to wed the late king's sister,    Laura.
Constantia.                                There must be some mistake.
1st Off. Friend, of that I greatly doubt.  Laura. There can be none!
Or I mistake, or Lord Siffredi's daughter,  Siffredi read his full and free consent
The gentle Sigismunda, has his heart.      Before th' applauding senate. True, indeed,
If one may judge by kindly, cordial looks,  A small remain of shame, a timorous weakness,
And fond, assiduous care to please each other,   Even dastardly in falsehood, made him blush
Most certainly they love-Oh, be they bless'd,   To act this scene in Sigismunda's eye,
As they deserve! It were great pity aught  Who sunk beneath his perfidy and baseness.
Should part a matchless pair; the glory he,  Hence, till to-morrow he adjourn'd the senate!
And she the blooming grace of Sicily!     To-morrow, fix'd with infamy to crown him!
2d Of My Lord Rodolpho comes.            Then leading off his gay, triumphant princess,
He left the poor unhappy Sigismunda
Enter RODOLPHOfrornM the Senate.     To bend her trembling steps to that sad home
His faithless vows will render hateful to herRod. My honest friends,                  He comes-Farewell-I cannot bear his preYou may retire. [OFFICERS go out.] A storm         sence!                [Exit LAURA
is in the wind.
This will perplexes all. No, Tancred never    Enter TANCRED and SIFFREDI, meeting.
Can stoop to these conditions, which at once
Attack his rights, his honour, and his love.  Tan. Avoid me, hoary traitor! Go, Rodol
Those wise old men, those plodding, grave, state   pho,
pedants,                           Give orders that all passages this way
Forget thz course of youth; their crooked pru- Be shut-Defend me from a hateful world,
dence,                             The bane of peace and honour-then returnTo baseness verging still, forgets to take                            [Exit RODOLPHO,
Into their fine-spun"schemes the generous heart, What! dost thou haunt me still! Oh, monstrous
That, through the cobweb system bursting, lays     insult'
Their labours waste-So will this business prove, Unparallel'd indignity Just Heaven!




SCENE.]             TANCRED AND SIGISMUNDA.                                       777
Was ever king, was ever man so treated,      But for these public threats thy passion utters,
So trampled into baseness?'Tis what thou canst not do.
Si/f. Here, my liege,                        Tan. I cannot! ha!
Here strike! I nor deserve, nor ask for mercy.   Driven to the dreadful brink of such dishonour.
Tan. Distraction!-Oh, my soul!-Hold, rea- Enough to make the tamest coward brave,
son, hold                           And into fierceness rouse the mildest nature,
Thy giddy seat-Oh, this inhuman outrage      What shall arrest my vengeance?  Who?
Unhinges thought!                              Sif. Thyself.
Sti. Exterminate thy servant.                Tan. Away! Dare not to justify thy crime!
Tan. All, all but this I could have borne-but That, that alone can aggravate its horror,
this!                              Add insolence to insolence-perhaps
This daring insolence beyond example!        May make my rage forgetThis murderous stroke, that stabs my peace for   S'. Oh, let it burst
ever!                               On this gray head, devoted to thy service!
That wounds me there-there! where the human But when the storm has vented all its fury,
heart                               Thou then must hear-nay more, I know thou
Most exquisitely feels-                              wiltSif. Oh, bear it not,                      Wilt hear the calm, yet stronger voice of reason.
My royal lord; appease on me your vengeance!  Thou must reflect that a whole people's safety,
7'an. Did ever tyrant image aught so cruel!  The weal of trusted millions, should bear down,
The lowest slave that crawls upon the earth,    Thyself the judge, the fondest partial pleasure.
Robb'd of each comfort Heaven bestows on mor- Thou must reflect that there are other duties,
tals,                               A nobler pride, a more exalted honour,
On the bare ground, has still his virtue left,  Superior pleasures far, that will oblige,
The sacred treasure of an honest heart,      Compel thee, to abide by this my deed,
Which thou hast dar'd, with rash, audacious Unwarranted perhaps in common justice,
hand,                               But which necessity, even virtue's tyrant,
And impious fraud, in me to violate-         With awful voice commanded.-Yes, thou must,
S'if. Behold, my. lord, that rash audacious In calmer hours, divest thee of thy love,
hand,                               These common passions of the vulgar breast,
Which not repents its crime-Oh, glorious, This boiling heat of youth, and be a king,
happy!                             The lover of thy people!
VIby my ruin I can save your honour.           Tan. Truths, ill employ'd,
TIan. Such honour I renounce; with sovereign Abus'd to colour guilt?   A  king! a king!
scorn                               Yes, I will be a king, but not a slave;
Greatly detest it, and its mean adviser!     In this will be a king; in this my people
Hast thou not dar'd beneath my name to shelter-  Shall learn to judge how I will guard their rights,
My name, for other purposes design'd,        When they behold me vindicate my own.
Given from the fondness of a faithful heart,  But have I, say, been treated like a king?With the best love o'erflowing-Hast thou not,  Heavens! could I stoop to such outrageous usage!
Beneath thy sov'reign's name, basely presum'd   I were a mean, a shameless wretch, unworthy
To shield a lie-a lie in public utter'd,     To wield a sceptre in a land of slaves,
To all deluded Sicily. But know,            A soil abhorr'd of virtue; should belie
This poor contrivance is as weak as base.    My father's blood, belie those very maxims,
In such a wretched toil none can be held     At other times you taught my youth- Siffredi I
But fools and cowards-  Soon thy flimsy arts,                  [In a softened tone of voice.
Touch'd by my just, my burning indignation,   S/f. Behold, my prince, thy poor old servant,
Shall burst like threads in flame-Thy doting Whose darling care, these twenty years, has been
prudence                             To nurse thee up to virtue; who, for thee,
But more secures the purpose it would shake.    Thy glory and thy weal, renounces all,
Had my resolves been wavering and doubtful,   All interest or ambition can pour forth;
This would confirm them, make them fix'd as What many a selfish father would pursue
fate;                               Through treachery and crimes: behold him here,'1 his adds the only motive that was wanting  Bent on his feeble knees, to beg, conjure thee,
To urge them on through war and desolation.   With tears to beg thee to control thy passion,
What! marry her! Constantia! her! the daugh- And save thyself, thy honour, and thy people!
ter                                 Kneeling with me, behold the many thousands
Of the fell tyrant who destroy'd my father!  To thy protection trusted; fathers, mothers,
The very thought is madness! Ere thou seest   The sacred front of venerable age,
The torch of Hymen light these hated nuptials,  The tender virgin, and the helpless infant;
Thou shalt behold Sicilia wrapt in flames,   The ministers of Heaven, those who maintain,
Her cities raz'd, her vallies drench'd with slaugh- Around thy throne, the majesty of rule;
ter-                                And those whose labour, scorch'd by winds and
Love set aside, my pride assumes the quarrel;        sun,
My honour now is up: in spite of thee,       Feeds the rejoicing public; see them all
A world combin'd against me, I will give     Here at thy feet conjuring thee to save them
This scatter'd will in fragments to the winds,    From misery and war, from crimes and rapine!
Assert my rights. the freedom of my heart,   Can there be aught, kind Heaven. in self-indul.
Crush all who dare oppose me to the dust,            gence
And heap perdition on thee!                 To weigh down these, this aggregate of love,
Sif. Sir,'tis just.                       With which compar'd, the dearest private passioi
Exhaust on me thy rage; I claim it all.      Is but the wafted dust upon the balance?
V'OL. I....5 F




778                TANCRED AND SIGISMUNDA.                                     [ACT L
Turn not away —Oh, is there not some part      Tan Friend! Rodolpho,
In thy great heart, so sensible to kindness,  When I have told thee what this friend has done,
And generous warmth, some nobler part, to feel  How play'd me like a boy, a base-born wretch,
The prayers and tears of these, the mingled voice Who had nor heart nor spirit, thou wilt stand
Of Heaven and earth?                        Amaz'd, and wonder at my stupid patience.
Tan. There is, and thou hast touch'd it.    Rod. I heard, with mix'd astonishment and
Rfise, rise, Siffredi-Oh, thou hast undone me!       grief,
Unkind old man! - Oh, ill-entreated Tancred! The king's unjust, dishonourable will,
Which way soe'er I turn, dishonour rears     Void in itself-I saw you stung with rage,
Her hideous front-and misery and ruin.       And writhing in the snare; just as I went,
Was it for this you took such care to form me 2  At your command to wait you here-but that
For this imbued me with the quickest sense   Was the king's deed, not his.
Of shame; these finer feelings, that ne'er vex  Tan. Oh, he advis'd it!
The common mass of mortals, dully happy      These many years he has in secret hatch'd
In bless'd insensibility? Oh, rather    [power This black contrivance, glories in the scheme,
You should have sear'd my heart, taught me that And proudly plumes him with his traitorous virAnd splendid interest lord it still o'er virtue;     tue.
That, gilded by prosperity and pride,        Butthat was nought, Rodolpho, nothing, nothing.
There is no shame, no meanness; temper'd thus, Oh, that was gentle, blameless to what follow'd
I had been fit to rule a venal world.        I had, mly friend, to Sigismunda given,
Alas! what meant thy wantonness of prudence! To hush her fears, in the full gush of fondness,
Why have you rais'd this miserable conflict  A blank sign'd with my hand-and he, Oh, HeaBetwixt the duties of the king and man               vens!                  -  -
Set virtue against virtue — Ah, Siffredi!   Was ever such a wild attempt!-he wrote'Tis thy superfluous, thy unfeeling wisdom,  Beneath my name an absolute compliance
That has involv'd me in a-maze of error      To this detested will, nay, dar'd to read it
Almost beyond retreat.-But hold, my soul    Before myself, on my insulted throne
Thy steady purpose-Toss'd by various pas- His idle pageant plac'd- Oh, words are weak
To this eternal anchor keep-There is,  [sions To paint the pangs, the rage, the indignation,
Can be no public without private virtue      That whirl'd from thought to thought my soul in
Then, mark me well, observe what I command;          tempest,
It is the sole expedient now remaining-      Now on the point to burst, and now by shame
To-morrow, when the senate meets again,      Repress'd-. But in the face of Sicily,
Unfold the whole, unravel the deceit;        All mad with acclamation, what, Rodolpho,
Nor that alone; try to repair its mischief:  What could I do? the sole relief that rose
There all thy power, thy eloquence, and interest To my distracted mind, was to adjourn
Exert to re-instate me in my rights,         Th' assembly till to-morrow-But to-morrow
And from thy own dark snares to disembroil me.-  What can be done Q-Oh, it avails not what!
Start not, my lord-This must and shall be done! I care not what is done-My only care
Or here our friendship ends-Howe'er disguis'd, Is how to clear my faith with Sigismunda.
Whatever thy pretence, thou art a traitor.   She thinks me false! She cast a look that kill'd
Sif. I should indeed deserve the name of traitor,  me!
And even a traitor's fate, had I so slightly,  Oh! I am base in Sigismunda's eye!
From principles so weak, done what I did,    The lowest of mankind, the most perfidious I
As e'er to disavow it-                         Rod. This was a strain of insolence indeed,
Tan. Ha!                                  A daring outrage of so strange a nature
Sif. My liege,                    [courts, As stuns me quite —--
Expect not this-Though practis'd long in    Tan. Curs'd be my timid prudence,
I have not so far learn'd their subtle trade,  That dash'd not back, that moment in his face,
To veer obedient with each gust of passion.  The bold presumptuous lie!-and curs'd this
I honour thee, I venerate thy orders,                hand,
But honour more my duty. Nought on earth    That, from a start of poor dissimulation,
Shall ever shake me from that solid rock,    Led off my Sigismunda's hated rival.
Nor smiles, nor frowns.                      Ah, then! what, poison'd by the false appearance,
Tan. You will not then?  What, Sigismunda, were thy thoughts of me?
S'f. I cannot.                             How, in the silent bitterness of soul,
Tan. Away! begone!-Oh, my Rodolpho, How didst thou scorn me, hate mankind, thyself,
come,,For trusting to the vows of faithless Tancred!
And save me from this traitor! Hence, I say,   For such I seem'd-I was-the thought distracts
Avoid my presence straight! and know, old man,      me!
Thou, my worst foe, beneath the mask of friend- I I should have cast a flattering world aside,
ship,                               Rush'd from my throne, before them all avow'd her
Who, not content to trample in the dust      The choice, the glory of my free-born heart.
My dearest rights, dost with cool insolence  And spurn'd the shameful fetters thrown upon itPersist, and call it duty; hadst thou not    Instead of that —confusion!-what I did
A daughter that protects thee, thou shouldst feel Has clinch'd the chain, confirm'd Siffredi's crime,
The vengeance thou deservest.-No reply!      And fix'd me down to infamy!
Away  [Exit SIFFREDI.   Rod. My lord,
Blame not the conduct which your situation
Enter RTore from your tortur'd heart-What could you
Rod. What can incense my prince so highly          do?
Against his friend Siffredi!                Had you, so circumstanc'd, in open senate,




ENE I.]              TANCB,ED AND SIGISMUNDA.                                      779
Before th' astonish'd public, with no friends  Submissive to-my fortune and my duty,
PreparMd, no party form'd, affronted thus    Had so much spirit left, as to be willing
The haughty princess and her powerful faction,  To give thee back thy vows, ah! hadst thou then
Supported by this will, the sudden stroke,   Confess d the sad necessity thy state
Abrupt and premature, might have recoil'd    Impos'd upon thee, and with gentle friendship,
Upon yourself, even your own friends revolted,   Since we must part at last, our parting soften'd
And turn'd at once the public scale against you.  I should indeed-I should have been unhappy,
Besides, consider, had you then detected     But not to this extreme-Amidst my grief,
In its fresh guilt this action of Siffredi,  I had, with pensive pleasure, cherish'd still
You must with signal vengeance have chastis'd   The sweet remembrance of thy former love,
The treasonable deed-Nothing so mean         Thy image still had dwelt upon my soul,
As weak, insulted power that dares not punish.  And made our guiltless woes not undelightful,
And how would that have suited with your love; But coolly thus-How couldst thou be so cruel? -
His daughter present too? Trust me, your con- Thus to revive my hopes, to sooth my love,
duct,                                And call forth all its tenderness, then sink me
Howe'er abhorrent to a heart like yours,     In black despair-What unrelenting pride
Was fortunate and wise —Not that I mean,     Possess'd thy breast, that thou couldst bear unE'er to advise submission-                           mov'd
Tan. Heavens! submission-                 To see me bent beneath a weight of shame!
Could I descend to bear it, even in thought,  Pangs thou canst never feel! How couldst thou
Despise me, you, the world, and Sigismunda!         drag me,
Submission!-No!-To-morrow's glorious light  In barbarous triumph at a rival's car?
Shall flash discovery on the scene of baseness.    How make me witness to a sight of horror?
Whatever be the risk, by Heavens, to-morrow,   That hand, which but a few short hours ago,
I will o'erturn the dirty lie-built schemes  So wantonly abus'd my simple faith,
Of these old men, and show my faithful senate   Before th' attesting world given to another,
That Manfred's son knows to assert and wear,  Irrevocably given!-There was a time,
With undinminish'd dignity, that crown       When the least cloud that hung upon my brow,
This unexpected day has plac'd upon him.     Perhaps imagin'd only, touch'd thy pity.
By this, my friend, these stormy gusts of pride   Then, brighten'd often by the ready tear,
Are foreign to my love-Till Sigismunda       Thy looks were softness all;, then the quick heart
Be disabus'd, my breast is tumult all,       In every nerve alive, forgot itself,
And can obey no settled course of reason.    And for each other then we felt alone.
I see her still, I feel her powerful image,  But now, alas! those tender days are fled;
That look, where with reproach complaint was Now thou canst see me wretched, pierc'd with
mix'd,                                       anguish,
Big with soft wo, and gentle indignation,    With studied anguish of thy own creating,
Which seem'd at once to pity and to scorn me-    Nor wet thy harden'd eye-Hold, let me thinkOh, let me find her! I too long have left   I wrong thee sure; thou canst not be so base,
My Sigismunda to converse with tears,        As meanly in my misery to triumphA prey to thoughts that picture me a villain.'What is it then?-'Tis fickleness of nature,
But ah! how, clogg'd with this accursed state,'Tis sickly love extinguish'd by ambitionA tedious world, shall I now find access'?   Is there, kind Heaven, no constancy in man?
Her father too —'ren thousand horrors crowd  No steadfast truth, no generous fix'd affection,
Into the wild, fantastic eye of love         That can bear up against a selfish world?
Who knows what he may do. Come then, my No there is none-Even Tancred is inconstant!
friend,                                                                 [Rising.
And by thy sister's hand, oh, let me steal   Hence! let me fly this scene!-Whate'er I see,
A letter to her bosom —I no longer           These roofs, these walls, each object that surCan bear her absence, by the just contempt           rounds me,
She now must brand me with, inflam'd to madness. Are tainted with his vows-But whither fly?
Fly, my Rodolpho, fly! engage thy sister    The groves are worse, the soft retreat of Belmont,
To aid my letter, and this very evening      Its deepening glooms, gay lawns, and airy sumSecure an interview-I would not bear                 mits,
This rack another day, not for my kingdom.   Will wound my busy memory to torture,
Till then, deep plung'd in solitude and shades,   And all its shades will whisper-faithless TanI will not see the hated -face of man.               cred!Thought drives on thought, on passion passions My father comes —How, sunk in this disorder,
roll;                                Shall I sustain his presence?
Her smiles alone can calm my raging soul.
~[Exeu~nt.Enter S1PPRaEDI.
[Exeunt.
ACT III                       Sif. Sigismunda,
My dearest child! I grieve to find thee thus
SCENE I.-A Chamber.                A prey to tears. I know the powerful cause
From which they flow, and therefore can excuse
SIGISMUNDA alone, sitting in a disconsolate        them
posture.                   But not their wilful, obstinate continuance.
Sig. Ah, tyrant prince! ah more than faith- Come, rouse thee, then, call up thy drooping
less Tancred!                               spirit,
Ungenerous and inhuman in thy falsehood!    Awake to reason from this dream of love,
Hadst thou this morning, when my hopeless And show the world thou art Siffredi's daughter.
heart,                                 Sig. Alas! I am unworthy of that name.




780                 TANCRED AND SIGISMUNDA.                                    [ACT 11.
SVzf. Thou art indeed to blame,; thou hast too Rouse thee, for shame! and if a spark of virtue
rashly                               Lies slumbering in thy soul, bid it blaze forth
Engag'd thy heart, without a father's sanction.   Nor sink unequal to the glorious lesson,
But this I can forgive. The king has virtues,   This day thy lover gave thee from his throne.
That plead thy full excuse; nor was I void     Sig. Ah, that was not from virtue!-Had, my
Of blame, to trust thee to those dangerous virtues.  father,
Then dread not my reproaches. Though he That been his aim, I yield to what you say;
blames,'Tis powerful truth, unanswerable reason.
Thy tender father pities more than blames thee.  Then, then, with sad but duteous resignation,
Thou art my daughter still; and, if thy heart    I had submitted as became your daughter;
Will now resume its pride, assert itself,    But in that moment, when my humbled hopes
And greatly rise, superior to this trial,    Were to my duty reconcil'd, to raise them
I to my warmest confidence again             To yet a fonder height than e'er they knew,
Will take thee, and esteem thee more my daugh- Then rudely dash them  down —There is the
ter.                                         sting!
Sig. Oh, you are gentler far than I deserve!  The blasting view is ever present to meIt is, it ever was, my darling pride,        Why did you drag me to a sight so cruel I
To bend my soul to your supreme commands,      Sif It was a scene to fire thy emulation.
Your wisest will; and though, by love betray'd-    Sig. It was a scene of perfidy!-But know,
Alas'! and punish'd too-I have transgress'd  I will do more than imitate the kingThe nicest bounds of duty, yet I feel        For he is false!-I, though sincerely pierc'd
A sentiment of tenderness, a source          With the best, truest passion, ever touch'd
Of filial nature springing in my breast,     A virgin's breast, here vow to Heaven and you,
That, should it kill me, shall control this passion, Though from my heart I cannot, from my hopes
And make me all submission and obedience     To cast this prince-What would you more, my
To you, my honour'd lord, the best of fathers.       father?
Sif. Come to my arms, thou comfort of my age!   S~f. Yes, one thing more-thy father then is
Thou only joy and hope of these gray hairs!         happyCome, let me take thee to a parent's heart;  Though by the voice of innocence and virtue
There, with the kindly aid of my advice,     Absolv'd we live not to ourselves alone:
Even with the dew of these paternal tears,   A rigorous world with peremptory sway,
Revive and nourish this becoming spirit-     Subjects us all, and even the noblest most.
Then thou dost promise me, my Sigismunda     This world from thee, my honour and thy own,
Thy father stoops to make it his request-    Demands one step; a step, by which, convinc'd,
Thou wilt resign thy fond, presumptuous hopes,  The king may see thy heart disdains to wear
And henceforth never more indulge one thought A chain which his has greatly thrown aside.
That in the light of love regards the king?'Tis fitting too, thy sex's pride commands thee,
Sig. Hopes I have none!-Those by this fa- To show th' approving world thou canst resign,
tal day                              As well as he, nor with inferior spirit,
Are blasted all-But from my soul to banish,    A passion fatal to the public weal.
While weeping memory there retains her seat,   But above all, thou must root out for ever
Thoughts which the purest bosom might have From the king's breast the least remain of hope,
cherish'd,                           And henceforth make his mentioned love dishoOnce my delight, now even in anguish charming,       nour.
Is more, my lord, than I can promise.        These things my daughter, that must needs be
Sif. Absence, and time, the soft'ner of our pas-   done,
sions,                               Can but this way be done-by the safe refuge,
Will conquer this. Meantime, I hope from thee The sacred shelter of a husband's arms.
A generous great effort; that thou wilt now  And there is oneExert thy utmost force, nor languish thus      Sig. Good Heavens! what means my lord?
Beneath the vain extravagance of love.         Sif. One of illustrious family, high rank,
Let not thy father blush to hear it said,    Yet still of higher dignity and merit
His daughter was so weak, e'er to admit      Who can and will protect thee; one to awe
A thought so void of reason, that a king     The king himself-Nay, hear me, SigismundaShould to his rank, his honour, and his glory,    The noble Osmond courts thee for his bride
The high important duties of a throne,       And has my plighted word-This dayEven to his throne itself, madly prefer        Sig. [Kneeling.] My father!
A wild, romantic passion, the fond child     Let me with trembling arms embrace thy knees!
Of youthful dreaming thought and vacant hours; Oh, if you ever wish to see me happy;
That he should quit his Heaven-appointed station, If e'er in infant years I gave you joy,
Desert his awful charge, the care of all     When, as I prattling twin'd around your neck,
The toiling millions which this isle contains;    You snatch'd me to your bosom, kiss'd my eyes.
Nay more, should plunge them into war and ruin, And melting said you saw my mother there;
And all to sooth a sick imagination,         Oh, save me from that worst severity
A miserable weakness.-Must for thee,         Of fate! Oh, outrage not my breaking hear
To make thee bless'd, Sicilia be unhappy?   To that degree!-I cannot!-'tis impossible
The king himself, lost to the nobler sense   So soon withdraw it, give it to another —
Of manly praise, become the piteous hero     Hear me, my dearest father; hear the voice
Of some soft tale, and rush on sure destruction?  Of nature and humanity, that plead,
Canst thou, my daughter, let the monstrous As well as justice, for me!-N —— ot to choose
thought                              Without your wise direction may be'duty;
Possess one moment thy perverted fancy?      But still my choice is free-that is a right,




SCENEIIn.1          TANCRED AND SIGISMUNDA.                                        781
Which even the lowest slave can never lose.    Laura. On him! this Tancred! who has baseAnd would you thus degrade me q-make me              ly sold,
base.                               For the dull form of despicable grandeur,
For such it were to give my worthless person    His faith, his love!-At once a slave and tyrant!
Without my heart, an injury to Osmond,         Sig. Oh, rail at me, at my believing folly,
The highest can be done.-Let me, my lord —    My vain ill-founded hopes; but spare him, Laura.
Or I shall die, shall by the sudden change,    Laura. Who rais'd these hopes. who triBe to distraction shock'd. Let me wear out           umphs o'er that weakness!
My hapless days in solitude and silence,     Pardon the word-You greatly merit him;
Far from the malice of a prying world!      Better than him, with all his giddy pomp;
At least-you cannot sure refuse me this-     You rais'd him by your smiles when he was noGive me a little time-I will do all,                 thing.
All I can do, to please you!-Oh, your eye    Where is your woman's pride, that guardian
Sheds a kind beam                                    spirit
Sif. My daughter! you abuse                Given us to dash the perfidy of man Q
The softness of my nature-                   Ye powers! I cannot bear the thought with paSig. Here, my father,                              tienceTill you relent, here will I grow for ever!  Yet recent from the most unsparing vows
Sif. Rise, Sigismunda.-Though you touch The tongue of love e'er lavish'd; from your hopes
my heart,                            So vainly, idly, cruelly deluded;
Nothing can shake th' inexorable dictates    Before the public thus, before your father,
Of honour, duty, and determin'd reason.      By an irrevocable, solemn deed,
Then, by the holy ties of filial love,       With such inhuman scorn, to throw you from
Resolve, I charge thee, to receive Earl Osmond,      him:
As suits the man who is thy father's choice,  To give his faithless hand yet warm from thine,
And worthy of thy hand-I go to bring him-    With complicated meanness, to Constantia:
Sig. Spare me, my dearest father!         And, to complete his crime, when thy weak limbs
Sif. [Aside.] I must rush                  Could scarce support thee, then, of thee regardFrom her soft grasp, or nature will betray me!      less,
Oh, grant us, Heaven, that. fortitude of mind,    To lead her off.
Which listens to our duty, not our passions.-  Sig. That was indeed a sight
Q.uit me, my child!                          To poison love; to turn it into rage
Sig. You cannot, oh, my father!            And keen contempt.-What means this stupid
You cannot leave me thus!                            weakness
Sif. Come hither, Laura,                   That hangs upon me'  Hence, unworthy tears!
Come to thy friend. Now show thyself a friend. Disgrace my cheek no more! No more, my heart,
Combat her weakness; dissipate her tears;    For one so coolly false or meanly fickleC her;sh, and reconcile her to her duty.     Oh, it imports not which-dare to suggest
[Exit SIFFREDI. The least excuse!-Yes, traitor, I will wring
E1nter LAURA.                 Thy pride, will turn thy triumph to confusion!
I will not pine away my days for thee,
Sig. Oh, wo on wo! distress'd by love and Sighing to brooks and groves; while, with vain
duty —                                       pity,
&hj every way unhappy Sigismunda!            You in a rival's arms lament my fateLaura Forgive me, Madam, if I blame your No, let me perish! ere I tamely be
grief..                           That soft, that patient, gentle Sigismunda,
How can you waste your tears on one so false!  Who can console her with the wretched boast,
Unworthy of your tenderness; to whom         She was for thee unhappy! —If I am,
Nought but contempt is due, and indignation?   I will be nobly so! - Sicilia's daughters
Sig. You know not half the horrors of my fate; Shall, wondering, see in me a great example
I might perhaps have learn'd to scorn his false- Of one who punish'd an ill-judging heart,
hood:                               Who made it bow to what it most abhorr'd!
Nay, when the first sad burst of tears was past,  Crush'd it to misery! for having thus
I might have rous'd my pride, and scorn'd him- So lightly listen'd to a worthless lover!
self-                                 Laura. At last it mounts, the kindling pride
But'tis too much, this greatest last misfortune-    of virtue;
Oh, whither shall I fly! Where hide me, Laura, Trust me, thy marriage will embitter hisFrom the dire scene my father now prepares!   Sig. Oh, may the furies light his nuptial torch!
Laura. What thus alarms you, Madam!       Be it accurs'd as mine! For the fair peace,
Sig. Can it be!                          The tender joys of hymeneal love,
Can I-ah, no! —-at once give to another    May jealousy awak'd, and fell remorse,
My violated heart' in one wild moment!    Pour all their fiercest venom through his breast!lJe brings Earl Osmond to receive my vows.  Where the fates lead, and blind revenge, I fob
Oh, dreadful change! for Tancred, haughty Os-        low. —
mond.                               Let me not think-By injur'd love! I vow,
Laura. Now, on my soul,'tis what an outrag'd Thou shalt, base prince! perfidious and inhuman!
heart                               Thou shalt behold me in another's arms,
Like yours should wish!  -I should, by Hea- In his thou hatest! Osmond's!
vens, esteem it                       Laura. That will grind
Most exquisite revenge!                     His heart with secret rage: Ay, that w'ill sting
Sig. Revenge! on whom!                   His soul to madness; set him up a terror,
(1O my own heart already but too wretched!    A spectacle of wo to faithless lovers  ---
66




X32               TANCRED AND SIGISMUNDA.                                     rAc V.
Your cooler thoughts besides, will of the change  Or is it, as I fear'd, she loves another.
Approve, and think it happy. Noble Osmond   Ha!-yes-perhaps the king, the young Count
From the same stock with him derives his birth;     Tancred;
First of Sicilian barons, prudent, brave,   They were bred up together- Surely that,
Of strictest honour, and by all rever'd-   That cannot be-Has he not given his hand,
Sig. Talk not of Osmond, but perfidious Tan- In the most solemn manner, to Constantia?
cred!                              Does not his crown depend upon the deed?
Rail at him, rail! invent new names of scorn!   No-If they lov'd, and this old statesman knew it.
Assist me, Laura; lend my rage fresh fuel;  He could not to a king prefer a subject.
Support my staggering purpose, which already   His virtues I esteem-nay more, 1 trust themBegins to fail me-Ah, my vaunts how vain!    So far as virtue goes-but could he place
How have I lied to my own heart!-Alas,    His daughter on the throne of SicilyMy tears return, the mighty flood o'erwhelms me! Oh,'tis a glorious bribe, too much for man!
Ten thousand crowding images distract      What is it then? I care not what it be.
My tortur'd thought-  And is it come to this?  My honour now, my dignity demands,
Our hopes, our vows, our oft repeated wishes,    That my propos'd alliance, by her father,
Breath'd from the fervent soul, and full of Hea- And even herself accepted, be not scorn'd.
ven,                               I love her too-I- never knew till now
To make each other happy --— come to this!  To what a pitch I love her. Oh, she shot
Laura. If thy own peace and honour cannot Ten thousand charms into my inmost soul!
keep                               She look'd so mild, so amiably gentle,
Thy resolution fix'd; yet, Sigismunda,     She bow'd her head,:she glow'd with such confuOh, think how deeply, how beyond retreat,          sion,
Thy father is engal'd.                     Such loveliness of modesty! She is,
Sig. Ah, wretched weakness!              In gracious mind, in manners, and in person,'That thus enthrals my soul, that chases thence   The perfect model of all female beauty!
Each nobler thought-the sense of every duty;   She must be mine-She is!-If yet her heart
And have I then no tears for thee, my father?   Consents not to my happiness, her duty,
Can I forget thy cares, from helpless years,  Join'd to my tender cares, will gain so much
Thy tenderness for me? an eye still beam'd  Upon her generous nature-That will follow.
With love; a brow that never knew a frown;    The man of sense who acts a prudent part,
Nor a harsh word thy tongue?. Shall I for these Not flattering steals, but forms himself the heart.
Repay thy stooping, venerable age                                               [Exit.
With shame, disquiet, anguish, and dishonour?
It must not be! Thou first of angels! come,               ACT IV.
Sweet filial piety, and firm my breast!
Yes, let one daughter to her fate submit,    SCENE I.-The Garden belonging to SIBe nobly wretched-but her father happy!-                 PREDI'S House.
Laura!-they come! Oh, Heavens I cannot            EnterSIGISMUNDA nd LAURA.
stand
The horrid trial!-Open, open, earth!          SGSUNDA,    a letter in her hand.
And hide me from their view. 
Laura. Madam.'Tis done!-I am a slave!-The fatal vow
Enter SIFFREDI and OSMOND.          Has pass'd my lips!-Methought in those sad
molments,
Sip. My daughter,                        The tombs around, the saints, the darken'd altar,
Behold my noble friend, who courts thy hand,   And all the trembling shrines with horror shook.
And whom to call my son I shall be proud;  But here is still new matter of distress.
Nor shall I less be pleas'd in this alliance,  Oh, Tancred, cease to persecute me more!
To see thee happy.                         Oh, grudge me not some calmer state of wo;
Osm. Think not, I presume,               Some quiet gloom to shade my hopeless days,
Madam, on this your father's kind consent,  Where I may never hear of love and thee  --
To make me bless'd. I love you from a heart,   Has Laura, too, conspir'd against my peace?
That seeks your good superior to my own;   Why did you take this letter:-Bear it backAnd will by every art of tender friendship,  I will not court new pain.
Consult your dearest welfare. May I hope,                         [ Giving her the letter.
Yours does not disavow your father's choice?  Laura. Madam, Rodolpho
Sig. I ant a daughter, Sir-and have no power Urg'd me so much, nay, even with tears conjur'd
D'er myown heart-I die-support me, Laura.          me
[Faints. But this once more to serve th' unhappy kingSif. Help-Bear her off-She breathes-my For such he said he was-that though enrag'd,
daughter!                          Equal with thee, at his inhuman falsehood,
Sig. Oh,                                 I could not to my brother's fervent prayers
Forgive my wieakness-soft-my Laura, lead Refuse this office-Read it-His excuses
me-                                Will only more expose his falsehood.
To my apartment.                             Sig. No;!"Exeunt SIGISMUNnA and LAURA. It suits not Osmond's wife to read one line
i/f. Paroon me, my lord,                 From that contagious hand-she knows too well t
If by this sudden accident alarm'd,          Laura. He paints him out distress'd beyond
[ leave you for a moment.   [Exit SIFFREDI.        expression;
Osm. Let me think-  -                    Even on the point of madness. Wild as winds,
What can this mean?_-Is it to: me aversion?  And fighting seas, he raves. His passions mix,




SCENE.]             TANCRED AND SIGISMUNDA.                                       783
With ceaseless rage, all in each giddy moment.  In some nice situation turns the scale
He dies to see you, and to clear his faith.  Of fate, and rules the most important actions.
Sig. Save me from that!-That would be Yes, I begin to feel a sad presage!
worse than all!                      I am undone, from that eternal source
Laura. I but report my brother's words; who Of human woes-the judgment of the passions.
then                                 But what have I to do with these excuses q
Began to talk of some dark imposition,       0, cease, my treacherous heart, to give them room
That had deceived us all; when interrupted,  It suits not thee to plead a lover's cause:
We heard your father and Earl Osmond near,   Even to lament my fate is now dishonour.
As summon'd to Constantia's court they went.   Nought now remains, but with relentless purpose
Sig. Ha! imposition I-Well, if I am doom'd  To shun all interviews, all clearing up
To be, o'er all my sex, the wretch of love,  Of this dark scene; to wrap myself in gloom,
In vain I would resist-Give me the letter —--   In solitude and shades; there to devour
To know the worst is some relief-Alas,       The silent sorrows ever swelling here;
It was not thus, with such dire palpitations,  And since I must be wretched-for I mustThat, Tancred, once I us'd to read thy letters.    To claim the mighty misery myself,
[Attempting to read the letter, gives it to Engross it all, and spare a hapless father.
LAURA.                              Hence, let me fly!-The hourapproachesAh, fond remembrance blinds me!-Read it,   Laura. Madamrn,
Laura.                     I         Behold he comes-the kingLaura. [Reads.] Deliver me, Sigismunda, from    Sig. Heavens! how escape.
that most exquisite misery which a faithful heart can- No-I will stay-This one last meeting-Leave
suffer —to be thought base by her, from whose esteem  me.                   [Exit LAURA.
even virtue borrows new charms. WThen I submitted
to my cruel situation, it was notfalsehood you beheld,     Enter TANCRED.
but an excess of love. Rather than endanger that, I    Tan. And are these long, long hours of torfor a while gave up my honourr. Every moment till.
I see you, stabs me with severer pangs than real guilt  tuie past 
itself can feel. Let me then conjure you to meet me My life! my Sigismunda!
in the garden, toward the close of te o day, when Iwill      [ Throwing himself at her feet.
explain this mystery. We have been most inhumanly   Sig. Rise, my lord.
abused; and that by the means of the very paper which To see my sovereign thus no more becomes me.
I gave you, from the warmest sincerity of love, to,  Tan. 0, let me kiss the ground on which you
assure to you the heart and hand of  TANCRED.        tread!
Sig. There, Laura, there the dreadful secret Let me exhale my soul in softest transport!
sprung!                             Since I again behold my Sigismunda! [Rising.
That paper! ah, that paper! it suggests    Unkind! how couldst thou ever deem me false 2
A thousand horrid thoughts-I to my father    How thus dishonour love?-Oh, I could much
Gave it; and he perhaps-I dare not cast      [mbitter my complaint!-How low were then
A look that way-If yet indeed you love me,   Thy thoughts of me? How  didst thou then
Oh, blast me not, kind Tancred, with the truth!      affront
Oh, pitying, keep me ignorant for ever.      The human heart itself.  After the vows,
What strange peculiar misery is mine?       The fervent truth, the tender protestations,
Reduc'd to wish the man I love were false!   Which mine has often pour'd, to let thy breast,
Why was I hurried to a step so rash 2        Whate'er th' appearance was, admit suspicion 2
Repairless wo l-I might have waited, sure,     Sig. How! when I heard myself your full
A few short hours-No duty that forbade-              consent
I ow'd thy love that justice; till this day  To the late king's so just and prudent will?
Thy love an image of all perfect goodness!   Heard it before you read, in solemn senate?
A beam from Heaven that glow'd with every When I beheld you give your royal hand
virtue!                             To her, whose birth and dignity of right
And have I thrown this prize of life away.   Demands that high alliance 2 Yes, my lord;
The piteous wreck of one distracted moment 2   You have done well. The man whom Heaven
Ah, the cold prudence of remorseless age!            appoints
Ah, parents, traitors to your children's bliss!  To govern others, should himself first learn
Ah, curs'd, ah, blind revenge!-On every hand   To bend his passions to the sway of reason.
I was betray'd-You, Laura, too, betray'd me!   In all you have done well; but when you bid
Laura. Whq, who but he, whate'er he writes, My humble hopes look up to you again,
betray d you 2                       And sooth'd with wanton cruelty my weaknessOr false or pusillanimous. For once,         That too was well —My vanity deserv'd
I will with you suppose, that his agreement  The sharp rebuke, whose fond extravagance
To the king's will was forg'd-Though forg'd Could ever dream to balance your repose,
by whom 2                           Your glory, and the welfare of a: people.
Your father scorns the crime-Yet what avails it?    Tan. Chide on, chide on.  Thy soft re.
This, if it clears his truth, condemns his spirit.   proaches now,
A youthful king, by love and honour fir'd,   Instead of wounding, only sooth my fondness.
Patient to sit on his insulted throne,       No, no, thou charming consort of my soul!
And let an outrage, of so high a nature,     I never lov'd thee with such faithful ardour,
Unpunish'd pass, uncheck'd, uncontradicted-    As in that cruel, miserable moment
Oh,'tis a meanness equal even to falsehood.  You thought me false; when even my honour
Sig. Laura, no more-We have already judg'd         stoop'd
Too largely without knowledge. Oft, what seems To wear for thee a baffled face of baseness.
A trifle, a mere nothing, by itself,         It was thy barbarous father. Sigisrnunda,




784                TANCRED AND SIGISMUNDA.                                  [ACT Iv
Who caught me in the toil. He turn'd that paper, She is, and shall be mine!-I will annul,
Meant for th' assuring bond of nuptial love  By the high power with which the laws invest me,
To ruin it for ever; he, he wrote          Those guilty forms in which you have entrapp'd,
That forg'd consent, you heard, beneath my name. Basely entrapp'd to thy detested nuptials,
Nay, dar'd before my outrag'd throne to read it!  My queen betroth'd, who has my heart, my hand
Had he not been thy father-Ha! my love!   And shall partake my throne-If, haughty lord,
You tremble, you grow pale!                If this thou didst not know, then know it now;
Sig. Oh, leave me, Tancred!             And know, besides, as I have told thee this,
Tan. No!-Leave thee!-Never! never till Shouldst thou but think to urge thy treason furyou set                                    therMy heart at peace, till these dear lips again  Than treason more! treason against my love L.Pronounce thee mine! Without thee, I renounce Thy life shall answer for it.
Myself, my friends, the world —Here on this   Osm. Ha! my life!hand-                              It moves my scorn to hear thy empty threats.
Sig. My lord, forget that hand,which never now  When was it that a Norman baron's life
Can be to thine united-                    Became so vile, as on the frown of kings
Tan. Sigismunda!                         To hang?-Of that, my lord, the law must judge:
What dost thou mean? —Thy words, thy look, Or if the law be weak, my guardian swordthy manner,                           Tan. Dare not to touch it, traitor, lest my rage
Seem to conceal some horrid secret —Heavens!-    Break loose, and do a deed that misbecomes me.
No, that was wild; Distraction fires the thought!        Enter!SFREDI.
Sig. Inquire no more-I never can be thine.
Tan. What, who shall interpose? Who dares   Sf: My gracious lord, what is it I behold!
attempt                            My sovereign in contention with his subjects?
To brave the fury of an injur'd king,      Surely this house deserves from royal Tancred
Who, ere he sees thee ravish'd from his hopes,   A little more regard, than to be made
Will wrap all blazing Sicily in flames.-.  A scene of trouble, and unseemly jars.
Sig. In vain your power, my lord-'Tis fatal It grieves my soul, it baffles every hope,
error,                             It makes me sick of life, to see thy glory
Join'd to my father's unrelenting will,    Thus blasted in the bud.-Hcavens! can your
Has plac'd an everlasting bar betwixt us-          highness
I am-Earl Osmond's-wife.                   From your exalted character descend,
Tan. Earl Osmond's wife!                 The dignity of virtue; and, instead
[After a long pause, during which they look Of being the protector of our rights,
at one another with the highest agitation, The holy guardian of domestic bliss,
and most tender distress.              Unkindly thus disturb the sweet repose,
Heavens! did I hear thee right?  What! mar- The secret peace of families, for which
ried? married!                    Alone the free-born race of man to laws
Lost to thy faithful Tancred? lost for ever!  And government submitted 2
Could thou then doom me to such matchless wo,   Tan. My lord Siffredi,
Without so much as hearing me? —Distraction! Spare thy rebuke. The duties of my station
Alas! what hast thou done 2 Ah, Sigisniunda! Are not to me unknown. But thou, old man,
Thy rash credulity has done a deed,        Dust thou not blush to talk of rights invaded,
Which, of two happiest lovers that ere felt  And of our best our dearest bliss disturb'd 2
T'he blissful power, has made two finish'd Thou, who with more than barbarous perfidy
wretches I                         Hast trampled all allegiance, justice, truth,
But —madness!-Sure, thou know'st it cannot be! Humanity itself, beneath thy feet?
This hand is mine! a thousand, thousand vows-  Thou know'st thou hast-I could, to thy confusion,
Enter OSMOND.                 Return thy hard reproaches; but I spare thee
Before this lord, for whose ill-sorted friendship
Osm. [Snatching her hand from the King.] Thou hast most basely sacrificed thy daughter.
Madam, this hand, by the most solemn rites,    Farewell, my lord.-For thee, lord constable,
A little hour ago, was given to me;        Who dost presume to lift thy surly eye
And did not sovereign honour now command me, To my soft love, my gentle Sigismunda,
Never but with my life to quit my claim,   I once again command thee, on thy life
I would renounce it-thus!                  Yes-chew thy rage-but mark me-on thy life,
Tan. Ha! who art thou 2                 No further urge thy arrogant pretensions! [Exit.
Presumptuous man!                             Osm. Ha! Arrogant pretensions! Heaven
Sig. [Aside.] Where is my father? Heavens!      and earth!
[Goes out. What! arrogant pretensions to my wife 2
Osm. One thou shouldst better know-Yes-  My wedded wife! Where are we 2 in a land
- view me, one                       Of civil rule, of liberty and laws?Who can and will maintain his-rights and honour, Not, on my life, pursue them?-Giddy prince!
Against a faithless prince, an upstart king,  My life disdains thy nod. It is the gift
Whose first base deed is what a harden'd tyrant Of parent Heaven, who gave me too an arm,
Would blush to act.                        A spirit to defend it against tyrants.
Tan. Insolent Osmond! know,              The Norman race, the sons of mighty Rollo,
This upstart king will hurl confusion on thee,   Who, rushing in a tempest from the north,
And all who shall invade his sacred rights,  Great nurse of generous freemen, bravely won
Prior to thine —thine, founded on compulsion,    With their own swords their seats, and still posOr infamous deceit, awhile his proceed             sess them
iromm mutual love, and free, long-plighted faith.  By the same noble tenure, are not us'd




~CENEI.1             TANCRED AND SIGISMUNDA.                                       785
Tro hear such language-If I now desist,      Confirms me thine; this binds me to thy fortunes:
Then brand me for a coward! deem me villain!  By the strong tie of common injury,
A traitor to the public! by this conduct     Which nothing can dissolve-I grieve, RodolDeceiv'd, betray'd, insulted, tyranniz'd.            pho,
Mine is a common cause. My arm shall guard, To see the reign in such unhappy sort
Mix'd with my own, the rights of each Sicilian,  Begin.
Of social life, and of mankind in general.     Osm. The reign! the usurpation call it!
Ere to thy tyrant rage they fall a prey,     This meteor king may blaze awhile, but soon
I shall find means to shake thy tottering throne,  Must spend his idle terrors-Sir, lead on.
Which this illegal, this perfidious usage    Farewell, my lord-more than my life and forForfeits at once, and crush thee in the ruins!       tune,
Constantia is my queen!                     Remember well, is in your hands-my honour t
Sif. Lord constable,                         Sif. Our honour is the same. My son, fareLet us be steadfast in the right; but let us         wellAct with cool prudence, and with manly temper, We'shall not long be parted. On these eyes
As well as manly firmness. True, I own,      Sleep shall not shed his balm, till I behold thee
Th' indignities you suffer are so high,      Restor'd to freedom, or partake thy bonds.
As might even justify what now you threaten.
Even noble courage is not void'of blame,
But if, my lord, we can prevent the woes,      Till nobler patience sanctifies its flame.
The cruel horrors of intestine war,
Yet hold untouch'd our liberties and laws;
Oh, let us, rais'd above the turbid sphere                    ACT V.
Of little, selfish passions, nobly do it.
Nor to our hot, intemperate pride, pour out            SCENE I.-A  Chamber.
A dire libation of Sicilian blood.'Tis godlike magnanimity to keep,
When most provok'd, our reason calm and clear, The prospect lowers around. I found the king,
And execute her will from a strong sense     Though calm'd a little, with subsiding tempest,
Of what is right, without the vulgar aid     As suits his generous nature, yet in love
Of heat and passion, which, though honest, Abated nought, most ardent in his purpose;
bears us                             Inexorably fix'd, whate'er the risk,
Often too far. Remember that my house        To claim my daughter, and dissolve this mar
Protects my daughter still; and, ere I saw her       riageThus ravish'd from us by the arm of power,   I have embark'd, upon a perilous sea,
This hand should act the Roman father's part.   A mighty treasure. Here the rapid youth,
Fear not; be temperate; all will yet be well.  Th' impetuous passions of a lover-king,
I know the king. At first his passions burst    Check my bold purpose; there, the jealous pride,
Quick as the lightning's flash; but in his breast  Th' impatient honour of a haughty lord,
Honour and justice dwell.-Trust me, to reason  Of the first rank, in interest and dependence
He will return.                              Near equal to the king, forbid retreat.
Osm. He' will! —By Heavens, he shall!-   My honour too, the same unchang'd conviction,
You know the king-I wish, my Lord Siffredi,  That these my measures were, and still remain,
That you had deign'd to tell me all you knew-  Of absolute necessity to save
And would you have me wait, with duteous pa- The land from civil fury, urge me on.
tience,                             But how proceed?-I only faster rush
Till he return to reason'  Ye just powers?  Upon the desperate evils I would shun.
When he has planted on our necks his foot,   Whate'er the motive be, deceit, I fear;
And trod us into slaves; when his vain pride  And harsh unnatural force, are not the means
Is cloy'd with our submission; if at last,   Of public welfare, or of private bliss.He finds his arm too weak to shake the frame    Bear witness, Heaven! thou mind-inspecting eye!
Of wide-establish'd order out of joint,      My breast is pure. I have preferr'd my duty,
And overturn all justice; then, perchance,   The good and safety of my fellow-subjects,
He, in a fit of sickly, kind repentance,     To all those views that fire the selfish race
May make a merit So return to reason.        Of mortal men, and mix them in eternal broils.
No, no, my lord! there is a nobler way,        Enter an OFFICER belonging to SIFFREDI.
To teach the blind oppressive fury reason:
Oft has the lustre of avenging steel           Of. My lord, a man of noble port, his face
Unseal'd her stupid eyes -The sword is reason! Wrapp'd in disguise, is earnest for admission.
Sif. Go bid him enter-    [OFFICER goes out.
~Enter RODOr.uPHO  with G-uards.     Ha! wrapp'd in disguise!
Rod. My lord high constable of Sicily,     And at this late, unseasonable hour!
In the king's name. and by his special order,  When o'er the world tremendous midnight reigns,
[ here arrest you prisoner of state.         By the dire gloom of raging tempest doubledOsm  What king? I know no king of Sicily,       Enter O    ND  discoverin  himsef
Unless he be the husband of Con~tantia.
Rod. Then know him now —behold his royal   Sif. What! ha! Earl Osmond, you?-Weforders                                       come, once more,
To bear you to the castle of Palermo.        To this glad roof! -But why in this disguise?
SXif Let the big torrent foam its madness off.  Would I could hope the king exceeds his promise!:
Submit, my lord-No castle long can hold      I have his faith soon as to-morrow's sun
Our wrongs-This, more than friendship or al- Shall gild Sicilia's cliffs, you shall be free.-.
liance,                              Has some good angel turn'd his heart to, justice?
VOL. I.... 5 G      66*




786                TANCRED AND SIGISMUNDA.                                      [AeCT
Osm. It is not by the favour of Count Tancred My holy scalp, turn whining monk myself,
That I am here. As much I scorn his favour,   And pray incessant for the tyrant's safety. —As I defy his tyranny and threats-           What! How! because an insolent invader,
Our friend Goffredo, who commands the castle,  A sacrilegious tyrant, in contempt
On my parole, ere dawn to render back        Of all those noblest rights, which to maintain
My person, has permitted me this freedom.    Is man's peculiar pride, demands my wife;
Know then; the faithless outrage of to-day,  That I shall- thus betray the common cause
By him committed whom you call the king,     Of human kind,-tamely yield her up,
/las rous'd Constantia's court. Our friends, the Even in the manner you propose? -  Oh, then
friends                              I were supremely vile! degraded I sham'd!
Of virtue, justice, and of public faith,     The scorn of manhood! and abhorr'd of honour!
Ripe for revolt, are in high ferment all.      Sf. There is, my lord, an honour, the calm
This, this, they say, exceeds whate'er deform'd      child
The miserable days we saw beneath            Of reason, of humanity, and mercy,
William the Bad. This saps the solid base,   Superior farto this punctilious demon,
At once, of government and private life:     That singly minds itself, and oft embroils
This shameless imposition on the faith,      With proud barbarian niceties the world.
The majesty of senates, this lewd insult,      Osm. My lord, my lord, I cannot brook your
This violation of the rights of men;                 prudence;
Added to these, his ignominious treatment    It holds a pulse unequal to my bloodOf her, the illustrious offspring of our kings,  Unblemish'd honour is the flower of virtue!
Sicilia's hope, and now our royal mistress.  The vivifying soul! and he who slights it,
You know, my lord, how grossly these infringe   Will leave the other dull and lifeless dross.
The late king's will, which orders, if Count Tan-   Sift No more-You are too warm.
cred                                   Osm. You are too cool.
Make not Constantia partner of his throne,     Sif. Too cool, my lord? I were indeed too cool,
That he be quite excluded the succession,    Not to resent this language, and to tell theeAnd she to Henry given, king of the Romans,   I wish Earl Osmond were as cool as I
The potent emperor Barbarossa's son,         To his own selfish bliss-ay, and as warm
Who seeks, with earnest instance, her alliance.   To that of others-But of this no moreI thence of you, as guardian of the laws,    My daughter is thy wife —I gave her to thee,
As guardian of this will, to you intrusted,  And will, against all force, maintain her thine.
Desire, nay, more, demand your instant aid,  But think not I will catch thy headlong passions,
To see it put in vigorous execution.         Whirl'd in a blaze of madness o'er the land;
S.f: You cannot doubt, my lord, of my concur- Or, till the last extremity compel me,
rence.                               Risk the dire means of war-The king, toWho, more than I, have labour'd this great point     morrow,'Tis my own plan; and if I drop it now,      Will set you free; and, if, by gentle means
I should be justly branded with the shame    He does not yield my daughter to your arms,
Of rash advice, or despicable weakness.      And wed Constantia, as the will requires,
But let us not precipitate the matter.       Why then expect me on the side of justice —Constantia's friends are numerous and strong;   Let that suffice.
Yet, Tancred's, trust me, are of equal force:  Osm. It does-Forgive my heat.
E'er since the secret of his birth was known,  My rankled mind, by injuries inflan'd,
The people all are in a tumult hurl'd,       May be too prompt to take, and give offence.
Of boundless joy, to hear their lives a prince  Sif.'Tis past-Your wrongs, I own, may well
Of mighty Guiscard's line. Numbers, besides,         transport
Of powerful barons, who at heart had pin'd,  The wisest mind-  But henceforth, noble OsTo see the reign of their renown'd forefathers       mond,
Won by immortal deeds of matchless valour,   Do me more justice, honour more my truth,
Pass from the gallant Normans to the Suevi,  Nor mark me with an eye of squint suspicionWVill witn a kind of rage, espouse his cause-  These jars apart-You may repose your soul'Tis so, my lord —be not by passion blinded-   On my firm faith, and unremitting friendship.'Tis surely so -Oh, if our prating virtue    Of that I sure have given exalted proof,
Dwells not in words alone-Oh, let us join,   And the next sun we see shall prove it further.My generous Osmond, to avert these woes,     Return, my son, and from your friend Goffredo
And yet sustain our tottering Norman kingdom. Release your word. There try, by soft repose.
Osm. But how, Siffredi, how? — If by soft To calm your breast.
means                                  Osm. Bid the vex'd ocean sleep,
We can maintain our rights, and save our country, Swept by the pinions of the raging northMay his unnatural blood first stain the sword,    But your frail age, by care and toil exhausted,
Who with unpitying fury first shall draw it!    Demands the balm of all-repairing rest.
Sif. I have a thought-The glorious work be   S/f. Soon as to-morrow's dawn shall streak the
thine.                                       skies,
But it requires an awful flight of virtue,   I, with mv friends in solemn state assembled,
Above the passions of the vulgar breast,     Will to the palace, and demand your freedom,
And thence from thee I hope it, noble Osmond- Then by calm reason, or by higher means,
Suppose my daughter, to her God devoted,     The king shall quit his claim, and, in the face
Were plac'd within some convent's sacred verge,  Of Sicily, my daughter shall be yours.
Beneath the dread potection of the altar-    Farewell.
Osm. Ere thei, by Heavens! I would devoutly    Osm. My lord, good night.  [Exit SIPFREl,
shave                                [After a long pause.] I like him not



SCENE II.J           TANCRED AND SIGISMUNDA.                                    787
Yes-I have mighty matter of suspicion.       Sig. And am I then alone? —The most ul-'Tis plain. I see it lurking in his breast,        done,
He has a foolish fondness for this king.-  Most wretched being now beneath the cope
My honour is not safe, while here my wife  Of this aftrighting gloom that wraps the worldRemains-Who knows but he, thisvery night, I said I did not fear-Ah, me! I feel
May bear her to some convent, as he mentioned-   A shivering horror run through all my powers!
The king too-though I smother'd up myerage,  Oh, I-am nought but tumult, fears-,and weakness!
I mark'd it well-will set me free to-morrow.  And.yet how idle fear: when hope is gone,Why not to-night? He has some dark design- Gone, gone for ever!-Oh thou gentle scene
By Heavens, he has!-I am abus'd most grossly;                [Looking towards her bed.
Made the vile tool of this old statesman's schemes; Of sweet repose, where, by th oblivious draught
Married to one-ay; and he knew it —one     Of each sad toilsome day, to peace restor'dv,
Who loves young Tancred! -Hence her swoon- Unhappy mortals lose their woes:awhile,
ing, tears,                         Thou hast no peace for me!-What shall I do 
And all her soft distress, when she disgracd. me, How pass. this dreadful night, so big with terBy basely giving her perfidious hand               ror?Without:her. heart-Hell and perdition! this,    Here, with the midnight shades; here will I sit,
This is the perfidy!-this is the fell,                                 [Sitting down.
The keen, envenom'd,: exquisite disgrace,  A prey to dire despair, and ceaseless-weep -
Which, to a man of honour, even exceeds    The hours away —Bless me-I heard. a noiseThe falsehood of the person-But I now                                    [Starting up.
Will rouse me from the poor tame lethargy,  No-I mistook-nothing but silence reigns,
By my believing fondness cast upon me.     And awful midnight, round-Again! —i Oh, HeaI will not wait his crawling timid motions,        vens!
Perhaps to blind me meant, which he to-morrow  My lord the king! 
Has promis'd to pursue. No! ere his eyes                Enter TANCRED.
Shall open.on to-morrow's orient beam,
I will'convince him that Earl Osmond never  Tan. Be not alarm'd, my love!
Was form'd to be his dupe-I know full well   Sig. My royal lord, why at thisnmidnight hour,
Th' important weight and danger of the' deed:   How came you hither 
But to a man, whom greater dangers press,    Tan. By that secret way
Driven to the brink of infamy and horror,  My love contriv'd, when we, in happier days,
Rashness itself, and utter desperation,    Us'd to devote these hours, so much in vain,
Are the best prudence.-I will bear her off  To vows of love, and everlasting friendship.
This night, and lodge her in a place of safety:  Sig. Why will you thus persist to add new
I have a trusty band that waits not far.           stings
Hence! let me lose no time-One rapid moment To her distress, who never can be thiner.
Should ardent form, at once, and execute   Oh, fly me' fly! you knowA bold design-'Tis fix'd-'Tis done!-yes, then,  Tan. I know too much.
When I have seiz'd the prize of love and honour, Oh, how I    could reproach thee, Sigismunda!
And with a friend secur'd her; to the:castle  Pour out my injur'd soul in just complaints!.
I will repair, and claim Goffredo's promise,  But now the time permits not, these swift moTo rise with all his garrison-My friends           mentsWith brave impatience wait. The mine is laid,   I told thee how thy father's artifice
And only wants my kindling touch to spring.    Forc'd me to seem- perfidious in thy eyes.
[Exit. Ah, fatal blindness! not to have observ'd
The mingled pangs of rage and love that shook
SCEENE II.-SIc-SMUNDA'S  Apartment.            me:
Enter SITGISMUNDA and LAURA. Thunder.   When by my cruel public situation
Compell'd, I only feign'd consent, to gain
Laura. Heavens!'tis a fearful night!  A little time, and more secure thee mine.
Sig. Ah! the black rage                 E'er since-a dreadful interval of care!
Of midnight tempest, or th' assuring smiles  My thoughts have been employ'd, not without
Of radiant morn, are equal all to me.              hope,
Nought now has charms or terrors to my breast,'  Howto defeat Siffredi's barbarous purpose.
The seat of stupid wo!-Leave me, my Laura.   But thy credulity has ruin'd all,
Kind rest,. perhaps, may hush my woes a'little.   Thy rash, thy wild-I know not what to name it;:
Oh. for that quiet sleep that knows no morning! Oh, it has prov'd the giddy hopes of man
Laura. Madam, indeed I know not how to go. To be delusion all, and sickening folly!
Indulge my fondness-Let me watch a while      Sig. Ah, generous Tancred! ah, thy truth de.
By your sad bed,'till these dread hours shall pass..   stroys me!
Sig. Alas! what is the toil of elements,  Yes, yes,'tis I,'tis I alone am false!
[Thunder. My hasty rage, join'd to my tame submission,
This idle perturbation of the sky,         More than the most exalted filial duty
To what 1 feel within?-Oh, that the fires  Could e'er demand, has dash'd our cup of fate
Of pitying Heaven would point their fury here! With bitterness unequall'd-But, alas!
Good night, my dearest Laura.              What are thy woes to mine?-to mine, just HeaLaura. Oh, I know not                            ven!
What this oppression means-But'tis with pain, Nowis thy turn ofvengeance-hate, renounce me i
With tears I can persuade myself to leave you- Oh, leave me to the fate I well deserve,
Well then-Good night, my dearest Sigismunda. To sink in hopeless misery!-at least,
[Exit. Try to forget the worthless Sigismunda!




788                TANCRED AND SIGISMUNDA.                                   L[ACT 
Tan. Forget thee,! No! Thou art my soul Pleads but too much)itself!                             And yet, perhaps, if thou wert not a king,
I have no thought, no hope, no wish but thee!   I know not, Tancred, what I might have done,
Even this repented injury, the fears,       Then, then, my conduct, sanctified by love,
That rouse me all to madness, at the thought    Could not be deem'd, by the severest judge,
Of losing thee, the whole collected pains   The mean effect of interest or ambition.
Of my full heart, serve but to make thee dearer.  But now, not all my partial heart can plead,
Ah, how forget thee!-Much must be forgot,    Shall ever shake th' unalterable dictates
Ere Tancred can forget his Sigismunda!      That tyrannize my breast.
Sig. But you, my lord, must make that great   Tan.'Tis well-No moreeffort.                             I yield me to my fate-Yes, yes, inhuman!
Tan. Can Sigismunda make it?            Since thy barbarian heart is steel'd by pride,
Sig. Ah, I know not                       Shut up to love and pity, here behold me
With what success-But all that feeble woman   Cast on the ground, a vile and abject wretch!
And love-entangled reason can perform,      Lost to all cares, all dignities, all duties!
I, to the utmost, will exert to do it.      Here will I grow, breathe out my faithful soul,
Tan. Fear not-'Tis done!-If thou canst Here at thy feet-Death, death alone shall pari
form the thought,                          us!
Success is sure-I am forgot already.          Sig. Have you then vow'd to drive me to perSig. Ah, Tancred!-But, my lord, respect me       dition?
more.                              What can I more?-Yes, Tancred, once again
Think who I am —What can you now propose? I will forget the dignity my station
Tan. To claim the plighted vows which Hea- Commands me to sustain-for the last time
ven has heard,                      Will tell thee, that, I fear, no ties, no duty,
To vindicate the rites of holy love         Can ever root thee from my hapless bosom.
By faith and honour bound, to which compar'd   Oh, leave me! fly me! were it but in pity!
These empty forms, which have ensnar'd thy  To see what once we tenderly have lov'd,
hand,                               Cut off from every hope-cut off for ever!
Are impious guile, abuse, and profanation   Is pain thy generosity should spare me.
Nay, as a king, whose high prerogative      Then rise, my lord; and if you truly love me,
By this unlicens'd marriage is affronted,  If you respect my honour, nay, my peace,
To bid the laws themselves pronounce it void.    Retire! for though th' emotions of my heart
Sig. Honour, my lord, is much too proud to Can ne'er alarm my virtue; yet, alas!
catch                              They tear it so, they pierce it with such anguishAt every slender twig of nice distinctions.  Oh,'tis too much!-I cannot bear the conflict!
These for the unfeeling vulgar may do well:
But those, whose souls are by the nicer rule              Enter OSMOND.
Of virtuous delicacy nobly swayed,
Stand at another bar than that of laws.       Osm. Turn, tyrant, turn! and answer to my
Then cease to urge me-Since I am not born    F      honr ts ty base nsufferable outrage
To that exalted fate to be your queen          this thy base insufferable outrage!
Or, yet a d earer name-to be your quwife en-  Tan. Insolent traitor! think not to escape
yet a dearer name —to be your wife!     Thyself my vengeance!
I am the wife of an illustrious lord
Of your own princely blood; and what I am,                   [Theylight; OSMONDfals.
I will with proper dignity remain.g. Help  here  help -Oh, Heavens 
Retire, my royal lord.-There is no means                  Thro ing herself down by him.
To cure the wounds this fatal day has given.    That my lord, what meant your headlong rage 
We meet no more!hat faith, which I this day, upon the altar,
We meet no more!
Tarn. Oh, barbarous Sigismunda!          To you devoted, is unblemish'd, pure
And canst thou talk this steadily; thus treat me  As vestl truth; was resolutely yours,
With such unpitying, unrelenting rigour 2  Beyond the power of aught on earth to shake it.
Poor is the love, that rather than give up    Osm. Perfidious woman! die!-ortenig
rA littlhe pride, ha little formal pride,   uhis sword, he plunges it into her breast.] and to
A little pride, a little formal pride,
The breath of vanity, can bear to see              the grave
The man, whose heart was once so dear to thine,   a  husband, yet but half aveng'd!
By  many a tender vow so mix'd together,      Tan. Oh, horror! horror! execrable villain!
A prey to anguish, fury, and distraction  And tyrant  thou! -thou shalt not o'!e
Thou canst not surely make me such a wretch,       my tomb
Thou canst not, Sigismunda!-Yet relent,   Exult-'Tis well-'tis great! I die content!Oh; saveus yet!-Rodolpho, with my guards,                                      [Die
Waits in the garden-Let us seize the moments       Enter RODOLPHO and LAURA.
We ne'er may have again-With more than
power                                Tan.[ Throwing himself down by SIGISMUNDA.]
I will assert thee mine, with fairest honour.  Quick! here! bring aid!-All in Palermo bring,
Tie world shall even approve; each honest bo- Whose skill can save her!-Ah, that gentle
som                                        bosom
Swell'd with a kindred joy to see us happy.  Pours fast the streams of life.
Sig. The world approve! what is the world to   Sig. All aid is vain;
me;                                I feel the powerful hand of death upon meThe conscious mind is its own awful world.-    But, oh! it sheds a sweetness through my fate,
And mine is Jix'd-Distress me then no more;  That I am thine again; and without blame
Not all the heart can plead, (and it, alas,  May in my Tancred's arms resign my soul!




SCENE I.]            TANCRED: AND SIGISMUNDA.                                      789
Tan. Oh, death is in that voice! so gently Will burst indignant from this jail of nature,
mild,                                To where she beckons yonder-No, mild seraph,
So sadly sweet, as mixes even with mine      Point not to life-I cannot linger here,
The tears of hovering angels!-Mine again!-   Cut off from thee, the miserable pity,
And is it thus the cruel fates have join'd us!  The scorn of human kind!-A  trampled king!
Are these the horrid nuptials they prepare   Who let his mean, poor-hearted love, one moFor love like ours? —Is virtue thus rewarded 1      ment,
Let not my impious rage accuse just Heaven!    To coward prudence stoop! who made it not
Thou, Tancred, thou hast murder'd Sigismunda! The first undoubting action of his reign,
That furious man was but the tool of fate,   To snatch thee to his throne, and there to shield
I, I the cause.-But I will do thee justice          thee,
On this deaf heart! that to thy tender wisdom  Thy helpless bosom, from a ruffian's fury! —
Refused an ear-Yes, death shall soon unite us.  Oh, shame! Oh, agony! Oh, the fell stings
Sig. Live, live, my Tancred!-Let my death Of late, of vain repentance!-Ha, my brain
suffice                             Is all on fire! a wild abyss of thought!
To expiate all that may have been amiss.     Th' infernal world discloses! See! Behold him!
May it appease the fates, avert their fury   Lo! with fierce smiles he shakes the bloody steel,
From thy propitious reign! Meantime, of me    And mocks my feeble tears-Hence, quickly,
And of thy glory mindful, live, I charge thee,       hence!
To guard our friends, and make thy people Spurn his vile carcass! give it to the dogs!
happy —                              Expose it to the winds and screaming ravens,
Enter SIFFREDfixed in astonishment and grief. Or hurl it down that fiery steep to hell,
Enter S~rFEDI~i~edin atonsl~mnt a.There with his soul to toss in flames for ever.
My father! —Oh, how shall I lift my eyes    Ah, Impotence of rage! What am I.  Where!
To thee, my sinking father!                  Sad, silent, all? —The forms of dumb despair,
Sif. Awful Heaven!                        Around some mournful tomb.-What do I see?
I am chastis'd-My dearest child!-           The soft abode of innocence and love
Sig. Where am I'                          Turn'd to the house of death! a place of horA fearful darkness closes all around-                ror!.
My friends! We needs must part-I must obey Ah, that poor corse! pale! pale! deform'd with
Th' impetuous call-Farewell, my Laura! cherish       murder!
My poor afflicted father's age-Rodolpho,    Is that my Sigismunda'
Now is the time to watch the unhappy king,                   [ Throws himself down by her.
With all the care and tenderness of friendship.-   Sif. [After a pathetic pause, looking on the
Oh, my dear father, bow'd beneath the weight         scene before him.]
Of age and grief-the victim even of virtue,  Have I liv'd
Receive my last adieu!-Where art thou, Tan- To these enfeebled years, by Heaven reserv'd
cred'                              To be a dreadful monument of justice? —
Give me thy hand-But, ah, it cannot save me   Rodolpho, raise the king, and bear him hence
From the dire king of terrors, whose cold power  From this distracting scene of blood and death.
Creeps o'er my heart — Oh!                   Alas! I dare not give him my assistance;
Tan. How these pangs distract me!         My care would only more inflame his rage.
Oh, lift thy gracious eyes!-Thou leav'st me Behold the fatal work of my dark hand,
then!                              That by rude force the passions would command,
Thou leav'st me, Sigismunda!                 That ruthless thought to root them  from the
Sig. Yet a moment-                                 breast;
I had, my Tancred, something more to say-    They may be rul'd, but will not be oppress'd.
Yes-but thy love and tenderness for me,      Taught hence, ye parents, who from nature stray,
Sure make it needless-Harbour no resentment  And the great ties of social life betray;
Against my father; venerate his zeal,       Ne'er with your children act a tyrant's part:
That acted from a principle of goodness,'Tis yours to guide, not violate the heart.
From faithful love to thee —Live, and maintain   Ye vainly wise, who o'er mankind preside,
My innocence embalm'd, with holiest care     Behold my righteous woes, and drop your pride;
Preserve my spotless memory! Oh,-I die-      Keep virtue's simple path before your eyes,
Eternal Mercy take my trembling soul I       Nor think from evil good can ever rise.
Oh,'tis the only sting of death to part
From  those we love-from  thee-farewell, my
Tancred!                      [Dies.
Tan. Thus then!
[Flying to his sword, is held by RODOLPHO.             EPILOGUE.
Rod. Hold, hold, my lord!-Have you forgot
Your Sigismunda's last request already'      CRAMM'D to the throat with wholesome moral
Tan. Off! set me free! Think not to bind me       stuff.
down,                               Alas, poor audience! you have had enough.
With barbarous friendship, to the rack of life!   Was ever hapless heroine of a play
What hand can shut the thousand, thousand In such a piteous plight as ours to-day' 
gates                               Was ever woman so by love betray'd'
Which death still opens to the woes of mortals?-  Match'd with two husbands, and yet-die a
I shall find means-No power in earth or heaven       maid.
Can force me to endure the hateful light,    But bless me!-hold-what sounds are these I
Thus robb'd of all that lent it joy and sweetness!  hearOff, traitors, off! or my distracted soul    I see the Tragic Muse herself appear.




790                              -EPILOGUE.
-The back-scene opens,.and discovers a ro-  -In Greece and Rome, I watch'd the public
mantic sylvan landscape;from which the      weal;
Tragic Muse advances slowly to music, The purple tyrant trembled at my steel:
and speaks the followinglines:       Nor didI less o'er private sorrows reign,
And:mend the melting heart with softer pain.
Hence.with your flippant epilogue, that tries   On France and You then rose my brightening
To wipe the virtuous tears from British eyes;          star,
That dares my moral, tragic scene profane,. -  With.social ray-The:arts are ne'er at war.
With strains —at best, unsuiting, light, and vain..Oh, as your fire and genius strongly blaze,
Hence from the pure unsully'd beams that play   As yours are generous freedom's bolder lays,
In yon fair eyes where virtue shines-away!    Let not the. Gallic taste leave yours behind,
In decent manners and.in life refin'd;
Britons, to you from chaste Castalian groves,  Banish the motley mode, to tag low verse,
Where dwell the tender, oft unhappy loves;    The laughing ballad to the mournful hearse.
Where shades of heroes roam, each mighty  When through five acts your hearts have learn'd
name,                                         to glow,
And court my aid to rise again to fame;        Touch'd with the sacred force of honest wo;
To you I come, to freedom's noblest seat,     Oh, keep the dear impression on your breast
And in Britannia fix my last retreat.         Nor idly lose it for a wretched jest.




THE BEAUX' STRATAGEM:
A COMEDY,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY GEORGE FARQUHAR.
REMARKS.
THE Author-of this play scarcely lived to see the great success of his lively comedy. He is said to have written
it in the short space of six weeks, and during an illness, which, at last, carried him off. The frequent repre.
sentation of this play, and the pleasure it always affords, are proofs of its intrinsic merit.
It was first acted at the Haymarket, in 1707; and was never better supported than by the dramatic corps of the
present day.
DRAMATIS PERSONX'.
AS ORIGINALLY ACTED.                   DRURY LANE, 1814.
AIMWELL,............              Mr. Mills..........              Mr. Holland.
ARCHER,..................... Mr...M. M Wilks.......................r. Elliston.
COUNT BELLAIR,.......... Mr. Bownan.
SULLEN,.............Mr. Verbruggen........... Mr. Powell.
SIR C. FREEMAN............. Mr. Keen.......... Mr. Kay.
FOIGARD............              Mr. Bowen..........    Mr. Johnstone.
GIBBET.........................M.r. Cibber........................Mr. lWewitzer.
BAGSHOT.
HOUNSLOW.
BONIFACE............             Mr. Bullock.................Mr. Palmer.
SCRUB......................... Mr. Norris....................... Mr. J. Bannister
LADY BOUNTIFUL,.............. Mrs. Powell.....................rs. Maddocks.
DORINDA,...................... Mrs. Bradshaw..........rs. Orger.
MRS. SULLEN,............          Mrs. Oldfield.........          Mrs. Edwin.
GIPSEY......................Mrs. Mills........................ Mrs. Scott.
CHERRY,............              Mrs. Bicknell...................Miss M3ellon.
ACT I.                         Bon. But they threaten to go to another inn
SCENE I —An Inn,                  to-night.
Cher. That they dare not, for fear the coachThe bar-bell rings.-Enter BONIFACE, running. man should overturn them to-morrow.  [RingBon. Chamberlain, maid, Cherry, daughter ing.] Coming, coming: here's the London coach
Cherry! All asleep, all dead?                  arrived.
Enter CHERRY, running.               Several People, with trunks, 4.c. cross the stage.
Cher. Here, here.  Why d'ye bawl so, father?   Bon. Welcome, ladies.
D'ye think we have no ears 1                      Cher. Very welcome, gentlemen-ChamberBon. You deserve to have none, you voung lain, show the Lion and the Rose.
minx-the company of the Warrington coach                              [Exit vitIt the Compa,ty
has stood in the hall this hour, and nobody to
show them  to their chambers.                   Enter AIMWELL in a riding-habit.m  ARCHER
Cher. And let'em wait, father: there's nei-      as Footman, carrying a portmanteau.
ther red coat in the coach, nor footman behind it.   Bon. This way, this way, gentlemen.
791




792                    THE BEAUX' STRATAGEM.                                     [Aa.T.
Aim. Set down the things; go to the stable,   Bon. Yes, Sir, she has a daughter by Sir
and see my horses well rubbed.                Charles, the finest woman in all our country, and
Arch. I shall, Sir.                 [Exit.  the greatest fortune; she has a son too, vy her
Aim. You're my landlord, I suppose 3       first husband,'squire Sullen, who married a fine
Bon. Yes, Sir, I'm old Will Boniface; pretty lady from London t'other day; if you please, Sir
well known upon this road, as the saying is!  we'll drink his health.
Aim. 0, Mr. Boniface, your servant.          Aim. What sort of a man is he?
Bon. 0, Sir —what will your honour please to   Bon. Why, Sir, the man's well enough; says
drink? as the saying is.                    little, thinks less, and does-nothing at all,'faith;
Aim. I have heard your town of Litchfield  but he's a man of great estate, and values nobody.
much famed for ale: I think I'll taste that.    Aim. A sportsman, I suppose?
Bon. Sir, I have now in my cellar ten ton of   Bon. Yes, Sir; he's a man of pleasure; he
the best ale in Staffordshire:'tis smooth as oil, plays at whist, and smokes his pipe eight and
sweet as milk, clear as amber, and strong as forty hours together, sometimes.
brandy, and will be just fourteen years old the   Aim. A fine sportsman, truly! and married,
fifth day of next March, old style.          you say?
Aim. You are very exact, I find, in the age of   Bon. Ay, and to a curious woman, Sir.-But
your ale.                                    he's a —He wants it here, Sir.
Bon. As punctual, Sir, as I am in the age of                   [Pointing to his forehead
my children: I'll show you such ale.-Here, tap-   Aim. HIe has it there you mean.
ster, broach number 1706, as the saying is. Sir,   Bon. That's none of my business, he's my
you shall taste my anno domino-  I have lived landlord, and so a man, you know would not
in Litchfield, man and boy, above eight and fifty -But I'cod he's no better than —Sir, my
years, and I believe have not consumed eight and  humble service to you. [Drinks.] Though I value
fifty ounces of meat.                        not a farthing what he can do me; I pay him his
Aim. At a meal, you mean, if one may guess rent at quarter day; I have a good running trade;
your sense by your bulk.                     I have but one daughter, and I can give herBon. Not in my life, Sir; I have fed purely  But no matter for that.
upon ale: I have eat my ale, drank my ale, and I   Aim. You're very happy, Mr. Boniface; pray,
always sleep upon my ale.                    what other company have you in town?
Enter TAPTER  ith   tanard.   Bon. A power of fine ladies; and then we have
Enter TAPSTER with cay tankard.       the French officers.
Now, Sir, you shall see. [Filling it out.] Your   Aim. 0, that's right; you have a good many
worship's health: Ha! delicious-fancy it Bur- of those gentlemen: pray, how do you like their
gundy-only fancy it, and'tis worth ten shillings company?
a quart                                        Bon. So well, as the saying is, that I could
Aim. [Drinks.]'Tis confounded strong.     wish we had as many more of'em: they're full of
Bon. Strong! it must be so, or how would we money, and pay double for every thing they have;
be strong that drink it?                    they know, Sir, that we pay good round taxes for
Aim. And have you lived so long upon this ale, the taking of them, and so they are willing to
landlord?                                    reimburse us a little: one of'em lodges in my
Bon. Eight and fifty years, upon my credit, house.
Sir; but it killed my wife, poor woman!- as the             Enter ARCHER.
saying is.
Aim. How came that to pass?                  Arch. Landlord, there are some French gen
Bon. I don't know how, Sir; she would not let tlemen below that ask for you.
the ale take its natural course, Sir; she was for   Bon. I'll wait on them -Does your master
qualifying it every now and then with a dram, as stay long in town, as the saying is?
the saying is: and an honest gentleman, that                                 [To ARCHER.
came this way from Ireland, made her a present   Arch. I can't tell, as the saying is.
of a dozen bottles of usquebaugh-but the poor   Bon. Come from London?
woman was never well after; but, however, I was   Arch. No.
obliged to the gentleman, you know.            Bon. Going to London, mayhap?
Aim. Why, was it the usquebaugh that killed    Arch. No.
her?                                          Bon. An odd fellow, this. [Bar-bell rings.]
Bon. My lady Bountiful said so-she, good I beg your worship's pardon, I'll wait on you in
lady, did what could be done; she cured her of half a minute.                       [Exit.
three tympanies, but the fourth carried her off; but   Aim. The coast is clear, I see-Now, my dear
she's happy and I am contented, as the saying is. Archer, welcome to Litchfield.
Aim. Who's that lady Bountiful you men-   Arch. I thank thee, my dear brother in initioned?                                     quity.
Bon. Od's my life, Sir, we'll drink her health.   Aim. Iniquity! pr'ythee leave canting; you
[Drinks.] My lady Bountiful is one of the best need not change your style with your dress.
of women: her last husband, Sir Charles Bounti-   Arch. Don't mistake me, Aimwell, for'tis still
ful, left her worth a thousand pounds a year; and my maxim, that there's no scandal like rags, nor
I believe she lays out one half on't in charitable any crime so shameful as poverty. Men must
uses for the good of her neighbours; in short she not be poor; idleness is the root of all evil; the
has cured more people in and about Litchfield world's wide enough, let'em bustle: fortune has
within ten years, than the doctors have killed in taken the weak under her protection, but men of
twenty. and that's a bold word.              sense are left to their industry.
Aim. H{as the lady been any other way useful   Aim. Upon which topic we proceed, and 1
in her generation?                           think luckily hitherto.  Would not any man




SCENE:L.]             THE BEAUX' STRATAGEM.                                        793
swear now, that I am a man of quality, and you   Botn. As for the fish, truly, Sir, we are an inmy servant; when, if our intrinsic value were land town, and indifferently provided with fish,
known-                                       that's the truth on't; but then for wild fowl!Arch. Come, come, we are the men of intrinsic we have a delicate couple of rabbits.
value, who can strike our fortunes out of our-   Aim. Get me the rabbits fricasseed.
selves, whose worth is independent of accident in   Bon. Fricasseed! Lard, Sir, they'll eat much
life, or revolutions in government; we have heads better smothered with onions.
to get money, and hearts to spend it.          Arch. Pshaw! rot your onions.
Aim. As to our hearts, I grant ye they are as   Aim. Again, sirrah!-Well, landlord, what
willing tits as any within twenty degrees; but I you please; but hold, I have a small charge of
can have no great opinion of our heads from the money, and your house is so full of strangers, that
service they have done us hitherto, unless it be I believe it may be safer in your custody than
that they brought us from  London, hither to mine: for when this fellow of mine get's drunk,
Litchfield, made me a lord, and you my servant.  he minds nothing-Here, sirrah, reach me the
Arch. That's more than you could expect al- strong box.
ready. But what money have we left?            Arch. Yes, Sir-this will give us reputation.
Aim. But two hundred pounds.                                     [Aside-brings the box.
Arch. And our horses, clothes, rings, &c. Why,   Aim. Here, landlord, the locks are sealed down,
we have very good fortunes now for moderate both for your security and mine; it holds somepeople: and let me tell you, that this two hundred what above two hundred pounds: if you doubt it,
pounds, with the experience that we are now  I'll count them to you after supper; but be sure
masters of, is a better estatethan the ten thousand you lay it where I may have it at a minute's
we have spent-'our friends, indeed, began to sus- warning; for my affairs are a little dubious at prepect that our pockets were low; but we came off sent; perhaps I may be gone in half an hour,
with flying colours, showed no signs of want, ei- perhaps I may be your guest till the best part of
ther in word or deed.                        that be spent; and pray order your hostler to keep
Aim. Ay, and our going to Brussels was a my horses ready saddled: but one thing above the
good pretence enough for our sudden disappear- rest, I must beg that you will let this fellow have
ing; and, I warrant you, our friends imagine that none of your anno domino, as you call it; for he's
we are gone a-volunteering.                 the most insufferable sot-Here, sirrah, light
Arch. Why,'faith, if this project fails, it must me to my chamber.
e'en come to this. I am for venturing one of the   Arch. Yes, Sir.  [Exit, lighted 6y ARCHER.
hundreds, if you will, upon this knight errantry;   Bon. Cherry! daughter Cherry!
but, in case it should fail, we'll reserve the other        Enter CHERRY.
to carry us to some counterscarp, where we may
die, as.we lived, in a blaze.                  Cher. D'ye call, father 
Aim. With all my heart; and we have lived   Bon. Ay, child: you must lay by this box for
justly, Archer; we can't say that we have spent the gentleman,'tis full of money.
our fortunes, but that we have enjoyed'em.    Cher. Money! is all that money? why sure,
Arch. Right; so much pleasure for so much father, the gentleman comes down to be chosen
money; we have had our pennyworths; and had parliament-man. Who is he.
I millions, I would go to the same market again.   Bon. I don't know what to make of him; he
O London, London! Well, we have had our talks of keeping his horses ready saddled, and of
share, and let us be thankful: past pleasures, for going, perhaps, at a minute's warning, or of stayought I know, are best, such as we are sure of: ing, perhaps, till the best part of this be spent.
those to come may disappoint us. But you com- |  Cher. Ay! ten to one, father, he's a highwaymand for the day, and so I submit.-At Notting- man.
ham, you know, I am to be master.              Bon. A highwayman! Upon my life, girl, you
Aim,. An  at Lincoln, I again.            have hit it, and this box is some new purchased
Arch. Then at Norwich I mount, which, I booty.-Now, could we find him out, the money
think, shall be our last stage! for if we fail there, were ours.
we'll embark for Holland, bid adieu to Venus,   Cher. He don't belong to our gang.
and welcome Mars.                              Bon. What horses have they?
Aim. A match! mum.                           Cher. The master rides upon a black.
Bon. A black! ten to one, the man upon the
Enter BONIFACE.               black mare; and since he don't belong to our fra.
Bon. What will your worship please to have ternity, we may betray him with a safe conscience.
for supper?                                I don't think it lawful to harbour any rogues but
Aim. What have you got?                   my own. Lookye, child, as the saying is, we
Bon. Sir, we have a delicate piece of beef in must go cunningly to work; proofs we must have;
the pot, and a pig at the fire.             the gentleman's servant loves drink, I'll ply him
Aim. Good supper meat, I must confess-I that way; and ten to one he loves a wench; you
can't eat beef, landlord.                   must work him t'other way.
Ar-ch. And I hate pig.                       Cher. Father, would you have me give mv seAim. Hold your prating  sirrah! Do you cret for his?
know who you are?                  [Aside.   Bon. Consider, child, there's two hundred
Bon. Please to bespeak something else; I have pounds to boot. [Ringing without.]  Coming
every thing in the house.                   coming-Child, mind your business.    [Exit.
Aim. Have you any veal?                     Cher. What a rouge is my father!-My faBon. Veal! Sir, we had a delicate loin of veal ther! I deny it-My mother was a good, geneon VTe(lncsday last.                        rous, free-hearted woman, and I can't tell hoxv
Aim. Have you got any fish, or wild fowl 2    far her good nature might have extended for the
VoL. I....5 H     67




794                    THE BEAUX' STRATAGEM.                                   [ACr I
good of her children. This landlord of mine, for   Cher. Let go my hand.
I think I can call him no more, would betray his   Arch. Give me:a kiss.      [Aisses her.
guest, and his daughter into the bargain-by a   Bon. [ Without.] Cherry, Cherry!
footman too!                                   Cher. I'm-My father calls! you plaguy
devil, how dare you stop my breath so?-Offer to
Enter ARCHER.                 follow me one step, if you dare.      (E-Krt.
Arch. What footman, pray, mistress, is so   Arch. A fair challenge, by this light; this is a
happy as to be the subject of your contemplation? pretty fair opening for an adventure; but we are
Cher. Whoever he is, friend, he'll be but little knight-errants, and so fortune be our guide.
the better for't.                                                                [Exit.
Arch. I hope so, for I'm sure you did not think
of me.                                                      IACT II.
Cher. Suppose I had!                       SCENE I.-A  Gallery in LADY BOUNTIFUL'S
Arch. Why, then, you're but even with me;                    House.
for the minute I came in, I was considering in
what manner I should make love to you.            MRS. SULLEN mnd DORINDA meeting.
Cher. Love to me, friend!                   Dor.'Morrow, my dear sister; are you for
Arch. Yes, child.                          church this morning!
Cher. Child! Manners: if you keep a little   lIMrs. S. Any where, to pray; for Heaven
more distance, friend, it would be much better.   alone can help me: but I think, Dorinda, there's: Arch. Distance! good night, saucebox.     no form of prayer in the liturgy against bad hus[Going. bands.
Cher. A pretty fellow-I like his pride-Sir!   Dor. But there's a form of law at Doctors'
pray, Sir, you see, Sir, [ARCHER returns.] I have: Commons; and I swear, sister Sullen, rather than
the credit to be trusted with your master's fortune see you thus continually discontented, I would
here, which sets me a degree above his footman. advise you to apply to that: for, besides the part
I hope, Sir, you an't affronted.             that I bear in your vexatious broils, as being
Arch. Let me look you full in the face, and I'll sister to the husband, and friend to the wife, your
tell you whether you can affront me or not-  examples give me such an impression of matri-'Sdeath, child, you have a pair of delicate eyes, mony, that I shall be apt to condemn my person
and you don't know what to do with'em.      to a long vacation all its life. But supposing,
Cher. Why, Sir, don't I see every body 2   Madam, that you brought it to a case of separaArch. Ay, but if some women had them, they tion, what can you urge against your husband?
would kill every body.-Pr'ythee, instruct me; I My brother is, first, the most constant man alive.
would fain make love to you, but I don't know   lMrs. S. The most constant man, I grant ye.
what to say.                                   Dor. He never sleeps from you.
Cher. Why, did you never make love to any    M1Irs. S. No, he always sleeps with me.
body before?                                  Dor. He allows you a maintenance suitable
Arch. Never to a person of your figure, I can to your quality.
assure you, Madam; my addresses have always   Mrs. S. A maintenance! Do you take me,
been confined to persons within my own sphere; Madam, for an hospital child, that I must sit
-1 never aspired so high before.     [Sings. down and bless my benefactors for meat, drink,
But you look so bright,             and clothes  As I take it, Madam, I brought
And are dressed so tight, 1c.       your brother ten thousand pounds, out of which
I might expect some pretty things called pleaCher. What can I think of this man?  [Aside.] sures.
WTill you give me that song, Sir?             Dor. You share in all the pleasures the counArch. Aye, my dear, take it while it is warm. try affords.
[Kisses her.] Death and fire! her lips are honey-   Mrs. S. Country pleasures! Racks and torcombs.                                       ments! Dost think, child, that my limbs were
Cher. And I wish there had been a swarm of made for leaping of ditches, and clambering over
bees too, to have stung you for your impudence.  stiles; or, that my parents, wisely foreseeing
Arch. There's a swarm of Cupids, my little my future happiness in country pleasures, had
Venus, that has done the business much better.  early instructed me in the rural accomplishments
Cher. This fellow is misbegotten as well as I. of drinking fat ale, playing at whist, and smoking
[Aside.] What's your name, Sir?.            tobacco with my husband; or of spreading of
Arch. Name!'Egad, I have forgot it. [Aside.] plaisters, brewing of -diet. drinks, and stilling of
Oh, Martin.                                 rosemary-water, with the good old gentlewoman,
Chier. Where was you born?               my mother-in-law?
Arch. In St. Martin's parish.                Do.:I'm sorry, Madam, that it is not more in
Cher. What was your father?               our power to divert you; I could wish, indeed,
Arch. Of-of-St. Martin's parish.          that our entertainments were a little more polite,
Cher. Then, friend, good night.           or your taste a little less refined; but pray,
Arch. I hope not.                          Madam, how came the poets and philosophers,
Cher. You may depend upon't.              that laboured so much in hunting after pleasure,
Arch. Upon what?                         to place it at last in a country life?
Cher. That you're very impudent.            -Mrs. S. Because they wanted money, child,
Arch. That you're very handsome.          to find out the pleasures of the town. Did you
Cher. That you're a footman.              ever hear of a poet or a philosopher worth ten
Arch. That you're an angel.               thousand pounds? If you can show me such a
Cher. I shall be rude.                    man, I'll lay you fifty poun'ds, you'll find him
Arch. So shall I.                          somewhere within the weekly bills. Not that I




(SCENE I.              THE BEAUX' STRATAGEM.                                      795
disapprove rural pleasures, as the poets have   Mrs. S. Have a care of coming near his tempainted them in their landscapes: every Phillis ples, Scrub, for fear you meet something there
has her Corydon; every murmuring stream, and that may turn the edge of your razor. [Exit
every flowery mead, gives fresh alarm to love. SCRUB.] Inveterate stupidity! did you ever know
Besides, you'll find that the couples were never so hard, so obstinate, a spleen as his.  0, sister,
married. But yonder I see my Corydon, and a sister! I shall never have any good of the beast
sweet swain it is, heaven knows! Come, Do- till I get him to town; London, dear London, is
rinda, don't be angry; he's my husband, and your the place for managing and breaking a husband.
brother; and, between both, is he not a sad brute?   Dor. And has not a husband the same opporDor. I have nothing to say to your part of tunities for humbling a wife?
him; you're the best judge.                    Mrs. S. No, no, child;'tis a standing maxim
MIrs. S. 0, sister, sister! if ever you marry, in conjugal discipline, that, when a man would
beware of a sullen, silent sot, one that's always enslave his wife, he hurries her into the country;
musing, but never thinks.-There's some diver- and when a lady would be arbitrary with her
sion in atalking blockhead; and, since the woman husband, she wheedles her booby up to town.must wear chains, [ would have the pleasure of A man dare not play the tyrant in London, behearing'em rattle a little. Now you shall see: cause there are so many examples to encourage
but take this by the way; he came home this the subject to rebel. 0, Dorinda, Dorinda! a fine
morning at the usual hour of four, wakened me woman may do any thing in London. O' my
out of a sweet dream of something else, by tumb- conscience, she may raise an army of forty thouling over the tea-table, which he broke all to sand men.
pieces. After his man and he had rolled about   Dor. I fancy, sister, you have a mind to be
the room, like sick passengers in a storm. he trying your power that way here in Litchfield;
comes flounce into bed, dead as a salmon into a you have drawn the French count to your colours
fishmonger's basket; his feet cold as ice; his already.
breath hot as a furnace- Oh! matrimony!   Mrs. S. The French are a people:that can't
matrimony! -he tosses up the clothes with a live without their gallantries.
barbarous swing over his shoulders, disorders the   Dor. And some English that I know, sister,
whole economy of my bed, leaves me half naked, are not averse to such amusements.
and my whole night's comfort is the tunable sere-   Mrs. S. Well, sister, since the truth must out,
nade of that wakeful nightingale, his nose.-O, it may do as well now as hereafter; I think one
the pleasure of counting the melancholy clock by way to rouse my lethargic, sottish husband, is to
a snoring husband! -  But now, sister, you shall give him a rival; security begets negligence in all
see how handsomely, being a well-bred man, he people, and men must be alarmed to make'em
will beg my pardon.                          alert in their duty. Women are like pictures, of
- Enter SULLEN.               no value in the hands of a fool, till he hears men
Sul. My head aches consumedly.            of sense bid high for the purchase.
Mrs. S. Will you be pleased, my dear, to drink    Dor. This might do, sister, if my brother's
tea with us this morning; it may do your head understanding were to be convinced into a pasgood?                                        sion for you; but, I believe, there's a natural
Sul. No.                                  aversion on his side: and I fancy, sister, that you
Dor. Coffee, brother?                     don't come much behind him, if you dealt fairly.
Sul. Pshaw!                                Mrs. S. I own it; we are united contradictions,
lIrs. S. Will you please dress, and go to fire and water. But I could be contented, with a
church with me? the air may help you.      great many other wives, to humour the censorious
Sul. Scrub!                              vulgar, and give the world an appearance of living
Enter SCRUB.                 well with my husband, could I bring him to disScrub. Sir!                               semble a little kindness to keep me in counteSul. What day o' th' week is this?        nance.
Scrub. Sunday, an't please your worship.    Dor. But how do you know, sister, but that
Sul. Sunday! bring me a dram; and d'ye hear, instead of rousing your husband, by this artifice,
set out the venison pasty and a tankard of strong to a counterfeit kindness, he should awake in a
beer, upon the hall table: I'll go to breakfast.    real fury.
[Going.   Mrs. S. Let him.-If I can't entice him to the
Dor. Stay, stay brother, you sha'nt get off so; one, I would provoke him to the other.
you were very naughty last night, and must make   Dor. But how must I behave myself between
your wife reparation. Come, come, brother, wont ye?
you ask pardon?                               MlMrs. S. You must assist me.
Sul. For what?                              Dor. What, against my own brother?
Dor. For being drunk last night.            Mrs. S. He's but half a brother, and I'm your
Sul. I can afford it, can't I?           entire friend. If I go a step beyond the bounds
Mrs. S. But I can't, Sir.                 of honour, leave me; till then, I expect you should
Sul. Then you may let it alone.           go along with me in every thing. The count is
AIrs. S. But I must tell you, Sir, that this is to dine here to-day.
not to be borne.                              Dor.'Tis a strange thing, sister, that I can't
Sul. I'm glad on't.                       like that man.
Mrs; S. What is the reason, Sir, that you use  MlIrs. S. You like nothing; your time is not
me thus inhumanly?                         come. Love and death have their frailties, and
Sul. Scrub!                              strike home one time or other.-You'll pay for all
Scrub. Sir!                               one day, I warrant ye.-But come, my lady's tea
Sul.: Get the things ready to shave my head.   is ready, and'tis almost church-time.
[Exit.                                    [Exeunt




796                    THE BEAUX' STRATAGEM.                                   [ACT I.
SCENE II. —The Inn.               you make your mother a whore and me a cuck,
old, as the saying is? I tell you, his silence conEnter AIMWELL, dressed, and ARCHER.    fesses it, and his master spends his money so
Aim. And was she the daughter of the house? freely, and is so much a gentleman every manner
Arch. The landlord is so blind as to think so; of way, that he must be a highwayman.
but I dare swear she has better blood in her veins.    Enter GIBBET, in a cloak.
Aim. Why dost think so?.        Gib. Landlord, landlord, is the coast clear?
Arch. Because the baggage has a pert je-ne- Bon. O, Mr. Gibbet, what's the news 
sfai-quoi; she reads plays, keeps a monkey, and    Gib. No matter; ask no questions; all's fair
is troubled with vapours.                  and honourable. Here, my dear Cherry, [Gives
Aim. By which discoveries, I guess that you her a bag.] two hundred sterling pounds, as good
know more of her.
know. moryetof'herth. Theladygiveshersef as ever hanged or saved a rogue; lay'em by with
Arch. kNot yet,'faith. The lady gives herselfthe rest; and here-three wedding or mourning
airs, forsooth; nothing under a gentleman.  rings-'tis much the same, you know.-ere
Aim. Let me take her in hand.             rings-'tis much the same, you know.-Here,
two silver-hilted swords: I took these from fellows
Arch. Say one word more o'that, and I'll de- that never show any part of their swords but the
dlare myself, spoil your sport there, and every hilts. Here is a diamond necklace, which the
where else: look ye, Aimwell, every one in his lady hid in the privatest place in the coach, but I
own sphere.                                 found it out. This gold watch I took from a
Aim. Right; and therefore you must pimp for pawnbroker's wife: it was left in her hands by a
your master.                                person of quality; there's the arms upon the case.
Arch. In the usual forms, good Sir, after I have  er. But who had you the arms uponey from 
served myself-But to your business. You are    Gib. Ah! poor woman I pitied her!-from  a
so well dgure, that I fancy youom,     make do  handsome a poor lady just eloped from her husband; she had
cexecution in a made up her cargo, and was bound for Ireland as
country church.                             hard as she could drive; she told me of her husAim. There's something in that which may band's barbarous usage, and so'faith I left her
turn to advantage. The appearance of a stranger half-a-crown. But I had almost forgot, my dear
in a country church, draws as many gazers as a Cherry, I have a present for you.
blazing star: no sooner he comes into the cathe-Cher. Whatis't 
dral, but a train of whispers run buzzing round    Gib. A pot of ceruse, my child, that I took out
the congregation in a moment-Who is he  of a lady's under petticoat pocket.
Whence comes he? Do you know hi                 h  under petticoat pocket.
Whenc comes he   Do you know him   Cher. What, Mr. Gibbet, do you think I paint 1
Then I, Sir, tips the verger half-a-crown; he    Gib. Why, you jade, your betters do; I'm sure
pockets the simony, and inducts me into the best the lady I took it from had a coronet upon her
pew in the church; I pull out my snuff-box, turn handkerchief-Here, take my cloak, and go
myself round, bow to the bishop, or the dean, if secure the premises.
he be the commanding officer, single out a beauty,   Cher. I will secure'em.     [Exit.
rivet both my eyes on hers, set my nose a-bleed-   Bon. But, harkye, where's  ounslow  and
ing by the strength of imagination, and show  Bagshot,
the whole church my concern, by my endeavour-    ib. They'll be here to-night.
ing to hide it! after the sermon, the whole town Bon. D'ye know of any other gentleman othe
gives me to her for her lover, and by persuading pad on the road.
the lady that I am dying for her, the tables are    Gib. No.
turned, and she in good earnest falls in love
Bon. I fancy I have two that lodge in the
with me.                                     house just now.
Arch. There's nothing in this, Tom, without   Gib. The devil  how do you smoke'emo
a precedent; but instead of rivetting your eyes on   Bon. Why, one is gone to church.
a beauty, try to fix them upon a fortune: that's   Gib; To church! That's suspicious I must
our business at present.                     confess
Aim. Pshaw! no woman can be a beauty with-   Bon. And the other is now in his master's
out a fortune. Let me alone for a marksman.   chamber; he pretends to be a servant to the other;
Arch. Tom!                                we'll call him out, and pump him a little.
Aim. Ay!-                                    Gib. With all my heart.
Arch. When were you at church before, pray?   Bon. Mr. Martin  Mr. Martin 
Aim. Um-I was there at the coronation.
Arch. And how can you expect a blessing by  Enter ARCHER, brushing a hat, and singing.
going to church now?                           Gib. The roads are consumed deep; I'm as
Aim. Blessing! Nay, Frank, I ask but for a dirty as Old Brentford at Christmas.-A good
wife.                                [Exit. pretty fellow that;-whose servant are you, friend?
Arch. Truly, the man is not very unreasona-   Arch. My master's.
ble in his demands.  [Exit, at the opposite door.   Gib. Really.
Arch. Really.
Enter BONIPACE and CHERRY.             Gib. That's much. That fellow has been at
Bon. Well, daughter, as the saying is, have the bar, by his evasions:-but pray, Sir, what is
you brought Martin to confess?             your master's name?
Cher. Pray, father, don't put me upon getting    Arch. Tall, all, dall. [Sings and brushes the
any thing out of a man; I'm but young, you know, hat.]-This is the most obstinate spotfather, and don't understand wheedling.        Gib. I ask you his name 
Bon. Young! why, you jade, as the saying is,   Arch. Name, Sir-Tall, all, dtll —I never
can any woman wheedle that is not young? Your asked him his name in my life -Tall, all, dall,
mother was useless at- five and twenty. Would    Bon. What think you now?




8CENE I.]             THE BEAUX' STRATAGEM.                                     797
Gib. Plain, plain; he talks now as if he were ness, or the privilege of their art, choose to hide
oefore a judge. But pray, friend, which way those eyes they could not draw.
does your master travel!                     Arch. That's my dear little scholar, kiss me
Arch. A-horseback.                       again-And why should love, that's a child,
Gib. Very well again; an old offender-Right govern a man!
-But I mean does he go upwards or downwards?   Cher.   ause that a child is the end of love.
Arch. Downwards 1 fear, Sir-Tall, lall.     Arch. A. so ends love's catechism-And
Gib. I'm afraid thy fate will be a contrary way. now, my dear, we'll go in, and make my master's
Bon. Ha, ha, ha! Mr. Martin, you are very bed.
arch.-This gentleman is only travelling towards   Cher. Hold, hold, Mr. Martin-you have
Chester, and would be glad of your company, taken a great deal of pains to instruct me, and
that's all. Come, captain, you'll stay to-night, I what d'ye think I have learned by it?
suppose; I'll show you a chamber-Come, cap-   Arch. What?
tain.                                        Cher. That your discourse and your habit are
Gib. Farewell, friend.                   contradictions, and it would be nonsense in me to
[Exeunt GIBBET and BONIPACE. believe you a footman any longer.
Arch. Captain, your servant.-Captain! a   Arch.'Oons, what a witch it is!
pretty fellow!'Sdeath! I wonder that the officers   Cher. Depend upon this, Sir; nothing in that
of the army don't conspire to beat all scoundrels garb shall ever tempt me: for though I was born
in red but their own.                      to servitude, I hate it. Own your condition,
En~ter CHERRY.        swear you love me, and thenArch. And then we shall go make my master's
Cher. Gone, and Martin here! I hope he did bed?
not listen: I would have the merit of the disco-   Cher. Yes.
very all my own, because I would oblige him to   Arch. You must know then, that I am born a
love me. [Aside.] Mr. Martin, who was that gentleman; my education was liberal; but Iwent
man with my father?                        to London a younger brother, fell into the hands
Arch. Some recruiting serjeant, or whipped- of sharpers, who stripped me of my money; my
out trooper, T suppose.                    friends disowned me, and now my necessity
Cher. All's safe, I find.        [Aside. brings me to what you see.
Arch. Come, my dear, have you conned over   Cher. Then take my hand-promise to marry
the catechism I taught you last night?    me before you sleep, and I'll make you master of
Cher. Come, question me.                 two thousand pounds.
Arch. What is love 1                       Arch. How?
Cher. Love is I know not what, it comes I   Cher. Two thousand pounds that I have this
know not how, goes I know not when.        minute in my own custody; so throw off your
Arch. Very well, an apt scholar. [Chucks her livery this instant, and I'll go find a parson.
under the chin.] Where does love enter?     Arch. What said you? a parson?
Cher. Into the eyes.                       Cher. What!-do you scruple?
Arch. And where go out?                    Arch. Scruple! no, no; but-two thousand
Cher. I won't tell you.                  pounds, you say?
Arch. What are the objects of that passion?  Cher, And better.
Cher. Youth, beauty, and clean linen.      Arch.'Sdeath, what shall I do?-But harkye,
Arch. The reason?                       child, what need you make me master of yourself
Cher. The two first are fashionable in nature, and money, when you may have the same pleasure
and the third at court,                    out of me, and still keep your fortune in your
Arch. That's my dear. What are the signs own hands 
and tokens of that passion'l                 Cher. Then you won't marry me?
Cher. A stealing look, a stammniering tongue,   Arch. I would marry you, butwords improbable, designs impossible, and actions   Cher. 0, sweet Sir, I'm your humble servant,
impracticable.                             you're fairly caught. Would you persuade me
Arch. That's my good child; kiss me-What that any gentleman who could bear the scandal
must a lover do to obtain a mistress?     of wearing a livery, would refuse two thousand
Cher. He must adore the person that disdains pounds, let the condition be what it would-No,
him, he must bribe the chambermaid that betrays no. Sir, but I hope you'll pardon the freedom I
him, and court the footman that laughs at him! have taken, since it was only to inform myself of
He must, he must-                          the respect I ought to pay you.    [Going.
Arch. Nay, child, I must whip you, if you don't   Arch. Fairly bit, by Jupiter!-Hold! hold!
mind your lesson; he must treat his-       and have you actually two thousand pounds?
Cher. O! ay. He must treat his enemies with   Cher. Sir, I have my secrets as well as yourespect, his friends with indifference, and all the when you please to be more open, I shall be more
world with contempt: he must suffer much, and free; and be assured that I have discoveries that
fear more;, he must desire much and hope little; will match yours, be they what they will.-In the
in short he must embrace his ruin, and throw  mean while be satisfied, that no discovery I make
himself away.                              shall ever hurt you; but beware of my father.
Arch. Had ever man so hopeful a pupil as                                      [Exit.
mine! Come, my dear, why is love called a riddle?   Arch. So-we're like to have as many adven.
Cher. Because, being blind, he leads those that tures in our inn, as Don Quixote had in hissee; and, though a child, he governs a man.  Let me see-two thousand pounds! if the wench
Arch. Mighty well. And why is love pictured would promise to die when the money were spent,
Wind 2'egad, one would marry her; but the fortune maw
Cher. Because the painters, out of their weak- go off in a year or two, and the wife may lve67*




798                    THE BEAUX' STRATAGEM.                                  [ACT IlL
Lord knows how long! Then an innkeeper's guess he's a mountebank, some bay one thing,
daughter! Ay, that's the devil —there, my pride some another:; but for my own part, I believe he's
brings me off.                               a jesuit. 
For whatsoe'er the sages charge on pride,    Dor. A jesuit! why a jesuit?
The angels' fall, and twenty faults beside;  Scrub. Because he keeps his horses always
On earth, I'm sure,'mong us of mortal calling, ready saddled, and his footman talks French.
Pride saves man oft, and woman too, from   2lirs. S. His footman I
falling.                     [Exit.   Scrub. Ay, he and- the. count's footman: were
ACT III.                    gabbering French like two intriguing ducks in a
millpond; and I believe they talked of me, for
SCENE /.-LADnY  BOUNTIFUL'S House.    they laughed consumedly.
Enter MRS. SULLEN and DORINDA.           Dor. What sort of livery has' the footman?.1rs. S. Ha, ha, ha! my dear sister; let me   Scrub. Livery! Lord, Madam, I:took: him for
embrace thee; now we are friends, indeed-; for I a captain, he's so bedizen'd with lace; and then
shall have a secret of yours as a pledge for mine. he has a silver-headed- cane dangling at: his
Dor. But do you think that I am so weak.as knuckles-.-he carries. his hands: in his pockets,
to fall in love with a fellow at first sight.  and walks just so-[ Walks in a French air..] and.Mrs. S. Pshaw! now you spoil all; why has a fine long periwig tied up in a bag-Lord,
should not:we be as free in our friendships as the Madam, lie's clear another sort of a man than I.
men2 I warrant you, the gentleman has -got to   Mrs. S. That may easily be.-But what shall
his confidant already, has avowed his passion, we do now, sister?
toasted your health, called you ten thousand    Dor. I have it.-This fellow has a world of
angels.                                      simplicity, and some cunning; the first hides the
Dor. Your hand, sister; I an't well.      latter by abundance.-Scrub!
Mrs. S. Shall I- send'to'your mother, child q   Scrub. Madam!
or shall I send to the gentleman for something    Dor. We have a great mind to know who this
for you'l-Come, unbosom yourself-the man is gentleman is, only for our satisfaction.
perfectly a pretty fellow.; I saw him when he first   Scrub. Yes, Madam, it would be a satisfaccame into church.                           tion, no doubt.
Dor. I saw him too, sister, and with an air that   Dor. You must go and get acquainted with
shone, methought, like rays about his person.    his footman, and invite him hither to drink a
Mrs. S. Well said, up with it.             bottle of your ale, because you're butler to-day.
Dor. No forward coquette behaviour, no air to   Scrub. Yes, Madam, I am butler every Sunday.
set him off, no studied looks, no artful posture,-.  Mrs. S. 0 brave, sister! o'my conscience you
but nature did it all-                       understand the mathematics already.-'Tis the
Mrs. S. Better and better-One touch more- best plot in the world? Your mother, you know,
Come-                                        will be gone to church, my spouse will be got to
Dor. But then his looks-Did you observe his the alehouse with his scoundrels, and the house
eyes?                                       will be our own-so we drop in by accident, and
MIrs. S. Yes, yes, I did-his eyes; wells what ask the fellow some questions ourselves. In the
of his eyes'l                               country, you know, any stranger is company
Dor. Sprightly, but not wandering; they and we're glad to take up.with the butler in a
seemed to view, but never gazed on any thing country-dance, and happy if he will do us the fabut me-and then his looks so humble were, and vour.
yet so noble, that they aimed to tell me, that he   Scrub. Oh, Madam, you wrong me; I never
could with pride die at my feet, though he scorned refused your ladyship the favour in my life.
slavery any where else.                                     Enter GIPnSEY.
lMrs. S. The physic works purely.-HIow d'ye    Gip. Ladies, dinner's upon table.
find yourself now, my dear?                    Dor. Scrub, we'll excuse you waiting.-Go
Dor. Hem! much better my dear- Oh, here'where we order'd you.
comes our Mercury!                             Scrub. I shall.                  [Exeunt.
Enter SCRUB.                            SCE NE II. —The Inn.
Dor. Well, Scrub, what news of the gentleman 1                                                Enter AIMWELL and ARCHER.
Scrub. Madam, I have brought you a. whole   Arch. Well, Tom, I find you're a marksman
packet of news.                                Aim. A marksman! who so blind could be as
Dor. Open it quickly; come.                not discern a swan among the ravens?
Scrub. In the first place, I inquired who the   Arch. Well, but harkye, Aimwellgentleman was? They told me he was a stranger.   Aim. Aimwell! call me Oroondates. Cesario
Secondly, I asked what the gentleman was? Amadis, all that romance can'in a lover paint,
They answered and said, that they never saw  and then I'll answer. Oh, Archer! I read her
him before. Thirdly, I inquired what country- thousands in her looks; she looked like Ceres in
man he was?  They replied,'twas more than her harvest: corn, wine, and oil, milk, honey,
they knew. Fourthly, I demanded whence he gardens, groves, and purling streams, played on
came? Their answer was, they could not tell. her plenteous face.
And fifthly, I asked whither he went  And   Arch. Her face! her pocket, you mean! the
they replied, they knew nothing of the matter.- corn, wine, and oil, lie there. In short, she has
And this is all I could learn.               twenty thousand pounds, that's the English on't.
]JIrs. S. But what do the people say! Can't   Aim. Her eyesthey guess?                                    Arch. Are demi-cannons, to be sure; so I wont
Scrub. WVhv some think he's a spy, some stand their battery.                   [Going.




SCENE II.J            THE BEAUX STRATAGEM.                                         799
Aiq.  Pray, excuse me, my passion must have               Enter GIBBET.
veftw.                                         Gib. Sir, I'm yours.
Ar.,h. Passion! what a plague, d'ye think these   Gib.'Tr, I'm yours.
Aim.'Tis more than I deserve, Sir, for I don't
romantic airs will do our business! Were my know you.
temper as extravagant as- yours, my adventures
temper as extravagant as yours, my adventures Gib. I don't wonder at that, Sir, for you never
have something more romantic by half         saw me before-I.                [As
Ai,. Your- adventures!               saw me before-I hope.                 [Asi.
Aim. Y our~ adventures ~.
Aich. Yes.         sAim. And pray, Sir, how came I by the lionour of seeing you now I
The nymph who, with her twice one thousand nourof seeing you now. 
~~~~pounds,                       ~aGib. Sir, I scorn to intrude upon any gentle_Tpounds,                                   man-but my landlordWith brazen engine hot, and coif clear starch'd,   Aim. O, Sir, I ask your pardon-you're the
Can fire the guest in warming of the bedThere's a touch of sublime Milton for you, and captain he told me of.
the subject but an innkeeper's daughter. I can    Gib. At your service, Sir.
Aim. What regiment, may I be so bold?
play with a girl as an angler does his fish; heregiment,                        old 
it at the end of his line, runs it up the    Gib. A marching regiment, Sir; an old corps
k~~~~eepsit~~ attleedofAim. Very old, if your coat be regimental
stream, and down the stream, till at last he brings [Aside.] You have served abroad, SirI
it to hand, tickles the trout, and so whips it into.
} is basket.,Gib. Yes, Sir, in the plantations;'twas  my lot
to be sent into the worst service; I would have
Enter BONIFACE.                quitted it indeed, but a man of honour you know
Bon. Mr. Martin, as the saying is —yonder's. -Besides,'twas for the good of my country that
an honest fellow below, my Lady Bountiful's I should be abroad-Any thing for the good of
butler, who begs the honour that you would go one's country —I'm a Roman for that.
home with him, and see his cellar.             Aim. One of the first, I'll lay my life. [Aside.]
Arch. Do my baise-mains to the gentleman, You found the West Indies very hot, Sir.
and tell him I will do myself the honour to wait   Gib. Ay, Sir, too hot for me.
on him immediately, as the saying is.          Aim. And where's your company now, cap.
Bon. I shall do your worship's commands, as tain.
the saying is.    [Exit, bowing obsequiously.   Gib. They a'n't come yet.
Aim. Whatl do I hear? soft Orpheus play, and   Aim. Why, d'ye expect them here.
fair Toftida sing!                             Gib. They'll be here to-night, Sir.
Arch' Pshaw! Damn your raptures; I tell you   Aim. Which way do they march?
here's a pump going to be put into the vessel,   Gib. Across the country.-The devil's in't if I
and the ship will get into harbour, my life on't. han't said enough to encourage him to declareYou say the e's another lady very handsome, but I'm afraid he's not right, I must tack about.
there.                                                                            [Aside.
Aim. Yes'faith.                             Aim.. Is your company to quarter at Litchfield?
Arch. I'm In love with her already.          Gib. In this house, Sir.
Aim. Can't you give me a bill upon Cherry, in   Aim. What, all.
the mean time?                                Gib. My company is but thin, ha, ha, ha! we
Arch. No, no,'faith; all her corn, wine, and are but three, ha, ha, ha!
oil, is engrossed to my market.-And once more   Aim. You're merry, Sir.
I warn you to keep your anchorage clear of    Gib. Ay, Sir, you must excuse me. Sir, I unmine; for if you fall foul of me, by this light, you derstand the world, especially the art of travelling:
shall go to the bottom. —VWhat! make a prize of I don't care for answering questions directly upon
my little frigate, while I am upon the cruise for the road-for I generally ride with a charge about
you. You're apretty fellow indeed!    [Exit. me.
Enter BONIFACE.                  Aim. Three or:four, I believe.    [Aside.
Gib. I am credibly informed that there are.
Aim. Well, well, I wont-Landlord, have you highwaymen upon this quarter; not, Sir, that I
any tolerable company in the house? I don't care could suspect a gentleman. of your figure-But
for dining alone,                           truly, Sir, I have got such a way of evasion upon
Bon. Yes, Sir, there's a captain below, as the the road, that I don't care for speaking truth to
saying is, that arrived about an hour ago.   any man.
Aim. Gentlemen of his coat are welcome every   Aim. Your caution may be necessary. Theta
where; will you make a compliment for me, and I presume you're no captain.
tell him I should be glad of his company, that's all.   Gib. Not I, Sir, captain is a good travelling
Bon. Who shall I tell him, Sir, would —    name, and so I take it; it stops a great many foolAim. Ha: that stroke was well thrown in.- ish inquiries that are generally made about genI'm only a traveller like himself, and would be tlemen that travel; it gives a man an air of someglad of his company, that's all.            thing, and makes the drawers obedient-And
Bon. I obey your commands, as the saying is. thus far I am a captain, and no further.
[Exit.   Aim. And pray, Sir, what is your true professEnter ARCHER.                 sion.
Arch.'Sdeath! I had forgot; what title would    Gib. O, Sir, you must excuse me-upon my
you give yourself?                           word, Sir, I don't think it safe to tell you.
Aim. My brother's to be sure; he would never   Aim. Ha, ha! upon my word, I commend you.
give me any thing else, so I'll make bold with his         Enter BONIFACE.
honour this bout.-You know the rest of your
cue!                                         Well, Mr. Boniface, what's the news?
Arch. Ay, ay.                      [Exit.   Bon. There's another gentlemanbelow, as tne




800                   THE BEAUX' STRATAGEM.                                 [ACT III
saying is, that hearing you were but two, would   Scrub. Pho! upon my honour, as I'm a gentle.
be glad to make the third man, if you'd give him  man.
leave.                                        Arch.'Tis enough. You must know then,
Aim. What is he?                         that my master is the Lord Viscount Aimwelli
Bon. A clergyman, as the saying is.       he fought a duel t'other day in London, wounded
Aim. A clergyman! is he really a clergyman? his man so dangerously. that he thinks fit to with-.
or is it only a travelling name, as my friend the draw till he hears whether the gentleman's wounds
captain has it?                             be mortal or not; he never was in this part of
Bon. Oh, Sir, he's a priest, and chaplain to England before, so he chose to retire to this place,
the French officers in town.                that's all.
Aim. Is he a Frenchman?                    Gip. And that's enough for me.    [Exit.
Bon. Yes, Sir, born at Brussels.            Scrub. And where were you when your masGib. A Frenchman, and a priest! I wont be ter fought?
seen in his company, Sir; I have a value for my   Arch. We never know of our master's quarrels.
reputation, Sir.                              Scrub. No! if our masters in the country here
Aim. Nay, but, captain, since we are by our- receive a challenge, the first thing they do, is to
selves —Can he speak English, landlord?    tell their wives; the wives tell the servants, the
Bon. Very well, Sir; you may know him, as servants alarm the tenants, and in half an hour,
the saying is, to be a foreigner, by his accent, and you shall have the whole country up in arms.
that's all?                                  Arch. To hinder two men from doing what
Aim. Then he has been in England before?   they have no mind for-But if you should chance
Bon. Never, Sir; but he's master of languages, to talk now of this business?
as the saying is; he talks Latin! it does one good   Scrub. Talk! Ah, Sir, had I not learned the
to hear him talk Latin.                    knack of holding my tongue, I had never lived se
Aim. Then you understand Latin, Mr. Boni- long in a great family.
face?                                       Arch. Ay, ay, to be sure, there are secrets in
Bon. Not I, Sir, as the saying is; but he talks all families.
it so very fast, that I'm sure it must be good.  Scrub. Secrets, 0 lud!-but I'll say no moreAim. Pray desire him to walk up.          Come, sit down, we'll make an end of our tank —
Bon. Here he is, as the saying is.       ard; — HereEnter FOIGARD.                 Arch. With all my heart; who knows but you
and I may come to be better acquainted, eh *aFoig. Save you, gentleman, bote.         Here's your ladies' health; you have three 1
Aim. A Frenchman! Sir, your most humble think, and to be sure there must be secrets among
servant.
Foig. Och, dear joy, I am your most shervant, them.
Foig. Och, dear joy, I am your most shervant Scrub. Secrets! ah, friend, friend! I wish I
and yours alsho.                           had a friend.
Gib. Doctor, you talk very good English, but   Ar-ch. Am I not.your friend? Come, you and
you have a mighty twang of the foreigner.   I will be sworn brothers.
Foig. My English is very well for the vords,   Scrub. Shall we?
but we foreigners, you know, cannot bring our   Arch. From  this minute —Give me a kisstongues about the pronunciation so soon.   And now, brother ScrubAim. A foreigner! a downright Teague, by   Scrub. And now, brother Martin, I will tell
this light. [Aside.] Were you born in France, you a secret, that will make your hair stand on
doctor?                                    end.-You must know that I am consumedly in
Foig. I was educated in France, but I was love.
borned at Brussels: I am a subject of the king of Arch. That's a terrible secret that's the truth
Spain, joy.                                on't.
Gib. What king of Spain, Sir? Speak.       Scrub. That jade, iipsey, that was with us
Fotig. Upon my soul, joy, I cannot tell you as just now in the cellar, is the arrantest whore that
yet.                                       ever wore a petticoat, and I'm dying for love of her.
Aim. Nay, captain, that was too hard upon the   Arch. Ha, ha, ha!-Are you in love with her
doctor; he's a stranger.                   person or her virtue, brother Scrub?
Foig. 0 let him alone, dear joy, I'm of a na-   Scrub. I should like virtue best, because it is
tion that is not easily put out of countenance.    more durable than beauty; for virtue holds good
Aim. Come, gentlemen, I'll end the dispute: with some women long and many a day after
here, landlord, is dinner ready?          they have lost it.
Bon. Upon the table, as the saying is.     Arch.. In the country, I grant ye, where no
Aim. Gentlemen-pray-that door-            woman's virtue is lost till a bastard be found.
Foig. No, no, fait, the captain must lead.  Scrub. Ay, could I bring her to a bastard, 1
Aim. No, doctor, the church is our guide.  should have her all to myself; but I dare not put
Gib. Ay, ay, so it is.          [Exeunt. it upon that lay, for fear of being sent for a sol
SCENVE III.-A  Galleryin LADY BOUNTIFUL,'S  dier-Pray, brother, how do you gentlemen in
House.                   London like that same pressing act?
Arch. Very ill, brother Scrub-'Tis the worst
I2nter A RRCHER  and ScRUs, singing and hugg~ing  that ever was made for us; formerly, I remember
one another; SCRUB with a tankard in his the good days when we could dun our masters
hand, GIPSEY listening at a distance.    for our wages, and if they refused to pay us, we
Scrub. Tall, all, dall. Come, my dear boy — could have a warrant to carry them before a juslet's have a song once more.              tice; but now, if we talk of eating, they have a
Arch. No, no, we shall disturb the family- warrant for us, and carry us before three justices.
B;ut will you be sure to keep the secret?    Scrub. And to be sure we go, if we talk of




SCENE Il.]            THE BEAUX' STRATAGEM.                                       801
eating; for the justices wont give their own ser- come down from London, set up here for dancing
vants a bad example. Now this is my misfortune masters, and carry off the best fortunes in the
-I dare not speak in the house, while that jade country.
Gipsey. dings about like a fury-Once I had the   Arch. [Aside.] That project, for aught I know,
better end of the staff.                     had been better than ours-Brother Scrub, why
Arch. And how comes the change now?       don't you introduce me?
Scrub. Why, the mother of all this mischief is   Scrub. Ladies, this is the strange gentleman's
a priest.                                    servant, that you saw at church to-day: I underArch. A priest!                            stood he came from London, and so I invited him
Scrub. Ay, a damned son of a whore of Baby- to the cellar, that he might show me the newest
Ion, that came over hither to say grace to the flourish in whetting my knives.
French officers, and eat up our provisions-    Dor. And I hope you have made much of him.
There's not a day goes over his head without a   Arch. Oh, yes, Madam, but the strength of
dinner or supper in this house.,             your ladyship's liquor is a little too potent for the
Arch. How came he so familiar in the family? constitution of your humble servant.
Scrub. Because he speaks English as if he had    Mrs. S. What, then you don't usually drink
lived here all his life, and tells lies as if he had ale?
been a traveller from his cradle.              Arch. No, Madam, my constant drink is tea,
Arch. And this priest, I'm afraid, has convert- or a little wine and water;'tis prescribed me by
ed the affections of your Gipsey.           the physicians, for a remedy against the spleen.
Scrub. Converted! ay, and perverted, my dear   Scrub. O la! O la!-A  footman have the
friend-for I am afraid he has made her a whore spleen!,and a papist —but this is not all; there's the   Mrs. S. I thourght that distemper had been
French count and Mrs. Sullen, they're in the only proper to people of quality.
confederacy, and for some private ends of their   Arch. Madam, like all other fashions, it wears
own too, to'be sure.                        out, and descends to their servants; though in a
Arch. A very hopeful family yours, brother great many of us, I believe, it proceeds from some
Scrub; I suppose the maiden lady has her lover too? melancholy particles in the blood, occasioned by
Scrub. Not that I know-She's the best of the stagnation of wages.
them, that's the truth on't: but they take care to   Dor. How affectedly the fellow talks!-HoFw
prevent my curiosity, by giving me so much busi- long, pray, have you served your present master 2
ness, that I am a perfect slave: What d'ye think    Arch. Not long; my life has been mostly spent
is my place in this family?                in the service of the ladies.
Arch. Butler, I suppose.                     Mlrs. S. And pray, which service do you like
Scrub. Ah, Lord help your silly head!-I'll best?
tell you-Of a Monday I drive the coach; of a   Arch. Madam, the ladies pay best; the honour
Tuesday I drive the plough; on Wednesday I of serving them is sufficient wages; there is a
follow the hounds; on Thursday I dun the te- charm in their looks, that delivers a pleasure with
nants; on Friday I go to market; on Saturday I their commands, and gives our duty the wings of
draw warrants; and on Sunday I draw beer.    inclination.
Arch. Ha, ha, ha! if variety be a pleasure in    Mrs. S. That flight was above the pitch of a
life, you have enough on't, my dear brother-but livery:-and, Sir, would not you be satisfied to
what ladies are those?                      serve a lady again?
Scrub. Ours, ours; that upon the right hand is   Arch. As groom of the chambers, Madam, but
Mrs. Sullen, and the other Mrs. Dorinda-don't not as a footman.
Inind them; sit still, man.                    Mrs. S. I suppose you served as footman before.
Enter Mas SULLEN and DORINDA.          fore?
SULLEN ad DORINDA.  Arch. For that reason I would not serve in
Mrs. S. I have heard my brother talk of Lord  that post again; for my memory is too weak for
Aimwell, but they say that his brother is the the load of messages that the ladies lay upon
finer gentleman.                             their servants in London: my Lady Howd'ye,
Dor. That's impossible, sister.           the last mistress I served, called me up one mornMrs. S. He's vastly rich, and very close, they ing, and told me, Martin, go to my Lady Allsay.                                         night with my humble service; tell her I was to
Dor. No matter for that; if I can creep into his wait on her ladyship yesterday, and left word
heart, I'll open his breast, I warrant him; I have with Mrs. Rebecca, that the preliminaries of the
heard say, that people may be guessed at by the affair she knows of are stopped till we know the
behaviour of their servants; I could wish we might concurrence of the person that I know of, fbr
talk to that fellow.                         which there are circumstances wanting, which
IMrs. S. So do I; for I think he's a very pretty we shall accommodate at the old place; but that,
fellow: come this way; I'll throw out a lure for in the mean time, there is a person about her lahim presently.                               dyship, that from several hints and surmises, was
[ They walk to the opposite side of the stage; accessary at a certain time to the disappointments
MRS. SULLEN drops her fan. ARCHER  that naturally attend things, that to her knowtakes it up, and gives it to her.     ledge are of more importanceArch. Corn, wine, and oil, indeed-But I   Mrs. S.  Ha, ha! where are you going, Sir?
think the wife has the greatest plenty of flesh    Dor.  H
and blood; she should be my choice-Ay, ay, say   Arch. Why, I hav'n't half done.
you so-Madam-your ladyship's fan.              Scrub. I should not remember a quarter of it.
Mrs. S. 0, Sir, I thank you-What a hand-   Arch. The whole how d'ye was about half an
some bow the fellow made 1                   hour long; I happened to misplace two syllables,
Dor. Bow! why I have known several footmen and was turned off, and rendered incapableVoIl. I....5 1




802                    THE BEAUX' STRATAGEM.                                  [ACT IV
Dor. The pleasantest fellow, sister, I ever saw.   Sul. Do you talk to any purpose?
-But, friend, if your master -be married, I pre-   MIrs. S. Do you think to any purpose?
sume'you still serve a lady                   Sul. Sister, harkye-[ Whispers.] I sha'n't be
Arch. No, Madam, I take care never to come home till it be late.                [Exit.
into a married family; the commands of the mas-  Ailrs. S. What did he whisper to you?
ter and mistress are always so contrary, that'tis   Dor. That he would go round the back way,
impossible to please both.                  come into the closet; and listen, as I directed him.
Dor. There' s a main point gained. My lord But let me beg you once more, dear sister, to
is not married, I find.             [Aside. drop this project; for, as I told you before, instead
Mrs. S. But, I wonder, friend, that in so many of awaking him to kindness, you may provoke
good services, you had not a better provision him to rage: and then who knows how far his
made- for you?                              brutality may carry him?.
Arch. I don't know, how, Madam-I am very   Mrs. S. I'm provided to receive him, I warrant
well as I am.                               you; away!                         [Exeunt.
MIrs. S. Something for a pair of gloves.
[Offers money.                 ACT IV.
Arch. I humblybeg leave to be excused. My SCENE I.-A  Gallery in LADY BOUNTIFUL'S
master, Madam, pays me; nor dare I take money                  House.
from any other hand, without injuring his honour nter LADY BOUNTI
Enter LADY BOUNTIFUL and MRS. SULLEN,
and disobeying his commands. 
Scrub. Brother Martin! brother Martin!               DORINDA meeting them.
Arch. What do you say, brother Scrub?      Dor. News, dear sister, news, news!
Scrub. Take the money, and give it me.              Enter ARCHER, running.
[Exeunt ARCnHER and SCRUB.   Arch. Where, where is my Lady Bountiful?
Dor. This is surprising. Did you ever see so   Pray, which is the old lady of you three?
pretty a well-bred fellow                     Lady B.  am.
Mrs. S. The devil take him for wearing that   Lady Brch. 0, am
livery.~~~                      s-Arch. O, Madam, the fame of your ladyDer. I                                  f ancy, slster,  he  may.   be  some    gentle-ship's charity, goodness, benevolence, skill, and
Dor. I fancy, sister, he may be some gentle- ability, have drawn me hither, to implore your
man, a friend of my lord's, that his lordship has ladyship's help in behalf of my unfortunate maspitched upon for his courage, fidelity, and discre- ter who is at this moment breathing his last.
tion, to bear him company in this dress, and who, 
ten to one, was his second.                   Arch. At your gate, Madam: drawn by the
Mrs. S. It is so, it must be so, itappearance of your handsome house to view it
nearer, and walking up the avenue, within five'Dor. VWhat! better than the count?      I paces of the court-yard, he' was taken ill of a
Mrs. S. The count happened to be the most'sudden, with a sort of I know not what; but
agreeable man in the place; and so I chose him  down he' fell, and there he lies.
to serve me in my design upon my husband. But   Lady B. Here Scrub Gipsey 
I should like this fellow better in a design upon..
~~~~myself.  S         -      | ~Enlter SCRUB and GIPSEY.
Dor. But now, sister, for an interview with All run, get my easy-chair down stairs, put the
this lord and this gentleman; how shall we bring gentleman in it, and bring him in quickly, quickly.
that about' Arch. Heaven will reward your ladyship for
Mrs. S. Patience! you country ladies give no this charitable act.
quarter. Lookye, Dorinda, if my Lord Aimwell   Lady B. Is your master used to these fits 7
loves you, or deserves you, he'll find a way to see   Arch. 0 yes, Madam, frequently. I have
you, and there we must leave it. My business known him have five or six of a night.
comes now upon the tapis. Have you prepared   Lady B. What's his name?
your brother?'     Arch. Lord, Madam, he's dying: a minute's
Dor. Yes, yes.                            care or neglect may save or destroy his life.
AMrs. S. And how did he relish it?         Lady B. Ah, poor gentleman! come, friend,
Dor. He said little, mumbled something to him- show me the way; I'll see him brought in myself.
self, and promised to be guided by me: but here                             [Exit ARCH.
he comes.                                     Dor. O, sister, my heart flutters about strangeEnter SULLEN.                ly; I can hardly forbear running to his assistance.
Sul. What sinng was that I heardjust now?   Mrs. S. And I711 lay my life he -deserves your
Mrs. S. The sgmng  in your head, my dear; assistance'more than -he-wants it: -did not I tell
you complained of it all day.               you that my lord would find a way to come at
Sul. You're impertinent.                  you'? Love's his distemper, and you must be the
Mrs. S. I was ever so, since 1 became'one physician::put on all your charms, summon all
flesh with you.'                           your fire into your eyes, plant the whole artillery
Sul. One flesh.! rather' two carcasses joined of your looks against his breast, and down with
unnaturally together.                       him.
Mrs. S. Or rather a living soul coupledto a   Dor. 0, sister, I'm but a young gunner, 1I shall
dead body.  be afraid to shoot for fear the piece should recoil,
Dor. So, this is fine encouragement for me!   and hurt myself. -
Sul. Yes, my wife shows you what you must do!   Mrs. S.. Never fear, you shall see me shoot be-.
Mrs. S. And my husband shows you what fore you, if'you will.
you must suffer.                              Dor. No, no, dear sister, you have rhissed your
Su/.'Sdeath, why can't you be silent?    mark so unfortunately, that I sha'n't care for
2M4rs. S.'Sdeath, why can't you talk?   -    being instructed by you.




SCENE I..]            a  I.HE  BE AUX' S T R:A T AGE M.                            803
Enter AIMWELLL, in a cha4r, carried by ARCHER the trees, just by this good lady'shouse; her lady
and SCRUB, LADY BOUNTIFUL, and GIPSEY. ship, had you taken in,'and:has miraculously
AIMWELL counterfeiting a swoon..           brought you to yourself, as you.see-!-...
Ladyy B. - Here, here, let's see-the hartshorn   Ai. I am so confounded with shame, Madam,
drops-Gipsey, a glass of fair water; his fit's very that I can only now beg pardon-and refer my
strong. Bless me, how his hands are clenched!  acknowledgments for your ladyship's care till an
Arch. For shame, ladies, what d'ye do? whyopportunity offers of making some amnds-I
don't* you help us  ~ Pray, Madam, [-To DOR.] dare be no longer troublesome —Martin, give two
take his hand, and open it, if you can, whilst-   guineas to the servants. [. oing
hold -his- head.    [DoRINDA takies his`hand.   Dor. Sir, you may catch cold by going so soon
Dor. Poor gentleman!-Oh-he has got my into the air; you don't look,,Sir, as if you were
hand within his, and squeezes it unmercifully. —recovered.
Lady B.'Tis the violence of his convulsions,     [ARCH. talks to LADY B. in dumb show.
child.. -  V'   Aim. That I shall never be, Madam,; my preArch. Oh, Madam, he's perfectly possessed-in sent illness is so rooted, that I.must. expect to
thesecases-he'll bite you, if you don't have a care. cary it to my grave.
Dor. O, my hand, my hand!                    Lady B. Come, Sir, your servant has been
Lady:B. What's the matter with the foolish telling methat you are apt to relapse, if you g
girl! -I have got this hand open you see with a into the air-your good manners sha'n't get the
great deal of ease.                          better of ours-you shall sit down again, Sir:Arch. Ay, but, Madam, your daughter's hand come,: Sir, we don't mind ceremonies in the counis somewhat warmer than your ladyship's, and the try.-Here, Gipsey, bring the- cordial water.heat of it draws the force of the spirits that way.  Htere, Sir, my service t'ye- you shall taste Imy
Mlrs. S. I find, friend, you are very learned -in     a cordal,  assure you, and of
these sort of fits.                          my own making.
- Arch:'Tis no wonder, Madam, for. I'm often    Scrub. Yes, my lady makes very good water.
troubled with them myself; I find myself ex-   Lady B. Drink ito  Sir. [AIMWEL drinks.
remely ill at this minute.        And how d'ye find yourself now, Sir'
y [Looking hard at MRS. SUtLEN....Aim. Somewhat better —though very faint still.
Mrs.- S. [Aside.] I fancy I could find a way to   Lady B. Ay, ay, people are always faint agter
cure you.                                    these fits. Come, girls, you shall show the genLady B. His fit holds him very long.. -    tleman the house;'tis but an-old family building,
Arch.~ Longer than usual, Madam_-          Sir; but you had better walk about,. and cool.by
Lady B.: Where did his illness take him first, degrees, than. venture immediately into the air.
You'll find some tolerable pictures. Dorinda, show
Arch.a  To-day at church, Madam..... the gentleman the way.  I must go to the poor
Lady B: In what manner was he taken?: -  woman below.                           [Exit.
Arch.- Very strangely, my lady; ~ He was of a   Dor. Thi way, Sir.
sudden touched with something in his eyes, which.   Am. Ladies, shallI beg leave for myservant
at the first he only felt, but could not tell whether to wait on you? for, he understands pictures very'twas pain or pleasure.                      well.
Lady B. Wind, nothing but the wind..-Your:   Mrs. S. Sir, we understand originals, as well
master should never go without a bottle to smell as he does pictures; so he may come along.
to-Oh! he recovers-the lavender water-some       [Exit DOR. and AIM.; MRs. S. and ARCH.
feathers to burn under his nose-Hungary water,.    Enter:FoIrARD. 
to rub his temples-Oh, he comes to himself. Hem..       ma
a little, Sir, hem-Gipsey, bring the cordial water.:  Scrub. Shave y ou, master Scrub. y — I
- [AIMWELL seems to awake in amaze. hate a priest, I abhor the French, and I defy the
Dor. How do you, Sir t                     devil.-Sir, I'm a bold Briton, and will spill the
Aim. Where am I                  [Rising. last drop of my blood to keep out popery and
Sure I have pass'd theggulph of silent death:  saey
And now am landed on the Elysian shore.      slaveo'. Mou would put me down
Behold the goddess- of those happy plains,.
Behold the* ddess ofthose happy plai.ns,'in politics, and so 1 would be spaiking with Mrs.
Fair: Proserpine-let' me: adore thy bright divi- Gipsey.-  -
nity.      -    n    s                Scrub. Good Mr. Priest, you can't speak with. -neels to DORINDA,; andI k isse s hee r han dher; she's sick, -Sir; she's gone -abroad, Sir;
Mrs. S. So, so, so; I knew where the fit would she's-dead two months ago, Sir
end.
Aim. Eurydice, perhaps                                    Enter GIPSEY.
How could thy Orpheus keep his word,           Gip. How now, impudence! How-dare you
And not look back on thee'-. talk so saucily. to. the doctor? Pray, Sir, don't
No treasure but thyself.could sure have brib'd him  take it ill; for the common people of England are
To look one minute off thee.                 not so civil to strangers, as —
Lady B. Delirious, poor gentleman.           Scrub. You lie, you lie:-'tis the common peoArch. Very delirious, Madam-very, delirious. ple, such as you are, that are civilest to strangers.
Scrub. - Very dolorous, indeed. -            Gip. Sirrah, I have a great mind to —get you.
Aim. Martin's voice, I think.             out, I say.
Arch. Yes, mylord.-How does your lordship. Scrub. I wont.
Lady B. Lord! did you mind that, girls?     Gip. You wont, saucebox!-Pray, doctor.
Aim. Where am I?                          what is the captain's name that came to your in:m
Arch. In very good hands, Sir. You were last night?
taken just now with: one of your old fits, under   Scrub.. The captain! ah, the devil! there she




i804                  THE BEAUX' STRATAGEM.                                 [AoT IV.
hampers me again; the captain has me on one   Arch. His ambitious love, Madam. [Bowing..
sidle, and the priest on t'other;-so between the His misfortune touches me.
gown and the sword I have a fine time on't.  Mrs. S. Was he successful in his amours?
Gip. What, sirrah; wont you march?        Arch. There he has left us in the dark.-He
Scrub. No, my dear, I wont march-but I'll was too much a gentleman to tell.
walk:-and I'll make bold to listen a little too.  Mrs. S. If he were secret, I pity him.
[Goes behind the side scene, and listens.   Arch. And if he were successful, I envy him.
Gip. Indeed, doctor, the count has been bar-   Mrs. S. How d'ye like that Venus over the
barously treated, that's the truth on't.   chimney?
Foig. Ah, Mrs. Gipsey, upon my shoul, now    Arch. Venus! I protest, Madam, I took it for
gra, his complainings would mollify the marrow  your picture: but now I look again,'tis not handin your bones, and move the bowels of your com- some enough.
miseration: he veeps, and he dances, and he fis-   Mrs. S. Oh, what a charm is flattery! if you
ties, and he swears, and he laughs, and he stamps, would see my picture, there it is, over that cabiand he sings: in conclusion, joy, he's afflicted a net-how d'ye like it?
la PFrangoise, and a stranger would not know    Arch. I must admire any thing, Madam. that
whider to cry or to laugh with him.        has the least resemblance of you.-But, metlinks,
Gib. What would you have me do, doctor     Madiam —[He looks at the picture and MRS.
Foig. Nothing, joy, but only to hide the count SULLEN three or four times, by turns.] Pray,
in Mrs. Sullen's closet, when it is dark.  Madam, who drew it?
Gip. Nothing! is that nothing? it would be   Mrs. S. A famous hand, Sir.
both a sin and a shame, doctor.                                    [Ex. AIM. and DOR.
Foig. Here is twenty Louis d'ors, joy, for your   Arch. A famous hand, Madam.! Your eyes,
shame; and I will give you an absolution for the indeed, are featured there; but where's the sparkshin.                                      ling moisture and shining fluid, in which they
Gip. But wont that money look like a bribe?  swim? The picture, indeed, has your dimples,!Foig. Dat is according as you shall take it-if but where's the swarm of killing Cupids that
you receive the money beforehand,'twill be lo- should ambush there? These lips too are figured
gice, a bribe; but if you stay till afterwards,'twill out; but where's the carnation dew, the pouting
be only a gratification.                   ripeness, that tempts the taste in the original?
Gip. Well, doctor, I'll take it logice-But what   Mrs. S. Had it been my lot to have matched
must I do with my conscience, Sir?         with such a man!                    [Aside.
FToig. Leave dat wid me, joy; I am your priest,   Arch. Your neck too, presumptuous man!
gra; and your conscience is under my-hands.    what! paint heaven!-A-propos, Madam, in the
Gip. But should I put the count into the closet-  very next picture is Salmoneus, that was struck
FToig. Veil, is dere any shin for a man's being dead with lightning for offering to imitate Jove's
in a closhet? one may go to prayers in a closhet. thunder; I hope you served the painter so, Madam.
Gip. But if the lady should come into her   Mrs. S. Had my eyes the power of thunder,
chamber and go to bed?                    they should employ their lightning better.
Foig. Veil, and is dere any shin in going to   Arch. There's the finest ber in that room,
bed, joy?                                  Madam; I suppose'tis your ladyship's bedGip. Ah, but if the parties should meet, doctor? chamber?
Foig. Veil den-the parties must be responsi-   Mrs. S. And what then, Sir.
ble.-Do you be gone after putting the count in   Arch. I think the quilt is the richest that ever
the closhet; and leave the shins wid themselves- I saw-I can't, at this distance, Madam, distinI will come with the count to instruct you in your guish the figures of the embroidery: will you
chamber.                                   give me leave, Madam?
Gip. Well, doctor, your religion is so pure,   Mrs. S. The devil take his impudence-Sure,
that I'm resolved to die a martyr to't.-Here's if I give him an opportunity, he durst not be rude.
the key of the garden door; come in the back I have a great mind to try. [Going-returns.]
way, when'tis late-I'll be ready to receive you;'Sdeath! what am I doing!-And alone too -
but don't so much as whisper, only take hold of Sister, sister!                 [Exit.
my hand; I'll lead you, and do you lead the   Arch. I'll follow her closecount, and follow me.             [Exeunt. For where a Frenchman durst attempt to storm,
Enter SCRUB.                A Briton, sure, may well the work perform.
[ Going.
Scrub. What witchcraft now have these two                                   [Going.
imps of the devil been a-hatching here?-There's
twenty Louis d'ors! I heard that, and saw the   Scrub. Martin! brother Martin!
purse: but I must give room to my betters. [Exit.   Arch. 0 brother Scrub, I beg your pardon, I
was not a-going: here's a guinea my master orSCENE  II.-A Picture Gallery.
dered you..Enter AIMWELL, leading DORINDA, and making   Scrub. A guinea! hi, hi, hi, a guinea! eh- by
love in dumb show; MRS. SULLEN and ARCHER. this light it is a guinea; but I suppose you expect
Mrs. S. Pray, Sir, [ To ARCH.] how d'ye like one and twenty shillings in change.
that piece?                                 Arch. Not at all; I have another for Gipsey.
Arch. O,'tis Leda-you find, Madam, how    Scrub. A guinea for her! Fire and Faggot for
Jupiter came disguised to make love-       the witch-Sir, give me that guinea, and 111 dis-,Mirs. S. Pray, Sir, what head is that in the cover a plot.
corner there 1                               Arch. A plot!
Arch. O, Madam,-'tis poar Ovid in his exile.    Scrub. Ay, Sir, a plot, a horrid plot.-First, it
Mrs. S. What was he banished for.      must be a plot, because there's a woman in't




SCENE II.!            THE BEAUX' T R A. T A GEM.                                   805
secondly, it must be a plot, because there's a bread-but I'll lay you a guinea that I had finer
priest in't: thirdly, it must be a plot, because things said to me than you had.
there's French gold in't: and, fourthly, it must be   Dor. Done-What did your fellow say to you?
a plot, because 1 don't knew what to make on't.    Mrs. S. My fellow took the picture of Venus
Arch. Nor anJy body else, I'm afraid, brother for mine.
Scrub.                                         Dor. But my lover took me for Venus herself.
Scrub. Truly, I'm  afraid so too; for where   Mrs. S. Common cant! had my spark called
there's a priest and a woman, there's always a me a Venus directly, I should have believed him
mystery and a riddle.-This I know, that here a footman in good earnest.
has been the doctor with a temptation in one   Dor. But my lover was upon his knees to me.
hand, and an absolution in the other, and Gipsey   Mrs. S. And mine was upon his tiptoes to me.
has,sold herself to the devil; I saw the price paid    Dor. Mine vowed to die for me.
down, my eyes shall take their oath on't.     Mrs. S. Mine swore to die with me.
Arch. And is all this bustle about Gipsey 2  nor. Mine kissed my hand ten thousand times.
Scrub. That's not all; I could hear but a word   Mirs. S. Mine has all that pleasure to come.
here and there; but I remember they mentioned   Dor. Mine spoke the softest moving things.
a count, a closet, a back door, and a key.     Mrs. S. Mine had his moving things too.
Arch. The count! did you hear nothing of Mrs.   Dor. Mine offered marriage.
Sullen'                                       Mrs. S. 0 lard! d'ye call that a moving thing? 
Scrub. I did hear some words that sounded    Dor. The sharpest arrow in his quiver, mv
that way; but whether it was Sullen or Dorinda, dear sister:-Why, my twenty thousand pounas
I could not distinguish.                     may lie brooding here these seven years, and
Arch. You have told this matter to nobody, hatch nothing at last but some ill-natured clown,
brother.                                    like yours: whereas, if I marry my Lord Aimwell,
Scrub. Told! no, Sir, I thank you for that; I'm  there will be title, place, and precedence; the
resolved never to speak one word, pro nor con, park, the play, and the drawing-room; splendour,
till we have a peace.                        equipage, noise, and flambeaux-Hey, my Lady
Arch. You are i' th' right, brother Scrub; Aimnwell's servants there-lights, lights, to the
here's a treaty a-foot between the count and the stairs-my Lady Aimwell's coach, put forwardlady.-The priest and the chambermaid are ple- stand by; make room for her ladyship-Are
nipotentiaries.-It shall go hard, but I'll find a not these things moving' What! melancholy of
way to be included in the treaty. Where's the a sudden'
doctor now'                                   Mrs. S. Happy, happy sister! your angel has
Scrub. He and Gipsey are this moment de- been watchful for your happiness, whilst mine has
vouring my lady's marmalade in the closet.  slept, regardless of his charge-  Long smiling
Aim. [From without.] Martin, Martin!      years of circling joys for you, but not one hour
Arch. I come, Sir, I come.                for me!                              [ Weepsa
Scrub. But you forget the other guinea, bro-   Dor. Come, my dear, we'll talk of something
ther Martin.                                 else.
Arch. Here I give it with all my heart. [Exit.   A/Irs. S. O, Dorinda, I own myself a woman,
Scrub. And I take it with all my soul. I'cod, full of my sex, a gentle, generous soul-easy and
I'll spoil your plotting, Mrs. Gipsey; and if you yielding to soft desires: a spacious heart, where
should set the captain upon me, these two guineas love and all his train might lodge: and must the
will buy me off.                     [Exit. fair apartment of my breast be made a stable'for
a bruth to lie in'!
Enter MRs. SULLEN and DOinNDA, meeting.  a brute to lie in?
nter M. SULEN  and D,   meeting.  Dor. Meaning your husband, I suppose.
Mrs. S. Well, sister.                        Mrs. S. Husband!-No-even husband is too
Dor. And well, sister.                    soft a name for him-But, come, I expect my.11rs. S. What's become of my lord?       brother here to-night or to-morrow; lie was
Dor. What's become of his servant'       abroad when my father married me: perhaps he'll
Mrs. S. Servant! he's a prettier fellow and a find a way to make me easy.
finer gentleman by fifty degrees than his master.    Dor. Will you promise not to make yourself
Dor. O' my conscience I fancy you could beg uneasy in the mean time with my lord's friend?
that fellow at the gallows' foot.              Mrs. S. You mistake me, sister-It happens
Mrs. S. O' my conscience I could, provided I with us, as among the men, the greatest talkers
could put a friend of yours in his room.     are the greatest cowards; and there's a reason
Dor. You desired me, sister, to leave you, when for it; those spirits evaporate in prattle, which
you transgressed the bounds of honour.      might do more mischief if they took another
Mrs. S. Thou dear, censorious, country girl-  course.-  Though, to confess the truth, I do
What dost mean 1 You can't think of the man love that fellow;-and if I met him dressed as he
without the bed-fellow, I find.             should be, and I undressed as I should beDor. I don't find any thing unnatural in that Lookye, sister, I have no supernatural gifts; —I
thought.                                    can't swear I could resist the temptation-though
Ail/rs. S. How a little love and conversation im- I can safely promise to avoid it; and that's as
prove a woman'  Why, child, you begin to live much as the best of us can do.   [Exeunt.
-you never spoke before.                               SCENE III.-The Inn.
Dor. Because I was never spoke to before; my
lord has told me, that I have more wit and beauty    Enter AIMWEIL and ARCHER, laughing.
than any of my sex; and truly I begin to think   Arch. And the awkward kindness of the good,
the man is sincere.                          motherly, old gentlewomanMlrs. S. You are in the right, Dorinda; pride   Aim. And the coming easiness of the young
is the life of a woman, and flattery is our daily one-'Sdeath,'tis a pity to deceive her.




806                    THE BEAUX' STRATAGElM.                                 [ACT IV.
Arch. Nay, ifyou adhere to those principles,   Arch. 0, de'devil hang' yourshelf, joy, you
stop where you are.                          know we were little boys togeder upon de school,
Aim. I can't stop; for I: love her to distraction. and your foster-moder's son was married upon
Arch.'Sdeath, if you love her a hair's breadth my nurse's shister, joy, and so we are Irish
beyond discretion, you must go no farther.  cussens.
Aim. Well, well, any thing to deliver us from    Foig. De devil take de relationship! Vell, joy;
sauntering away our idle evenings at White's, and fat school was it?
Tom's, or Will's-but now-                      Arch. I think itwas-  Ay-'twas Tipperary.
Arch. Ay, now is the time to prevent all this-   Foig. Now, upon my shoul, joy, it was KilStrike while the iron is hot-The priest is the kenny.
luckiest part of our adventure; he shall marry   Aim. That's enough for us-self-confessionyou and pimp for me.                         Come, Sir, we must deliver you into the hands of
Aim. But I should not like a woman that can the next magistrate.
be so fond of a Frenchman.'        Arch. He sends'you to gaol, you're tried next
Arch. Alas, Sir, necessity has no law; the lady: assizes, and away you go swing into purgatory.
may be in distress: But if the plot lies as I sus-I   Foig. And is it so wid you, cussen?
pect-I must put on the gentleman. But here   Arch. Itwill be so wid you, cussen, if you don't
comes the doctor; I shall be ready.   [Exit. immediately confess the secret between you and
Enter FOIGARD.        Mrs. Gipsey. Lookye, Sir, the gallows or the
secret, take your choice.
AFoig. Shave you, noble friend.   Foig. The gallows! Upon my shoul I hate
Aim. 0, Sir, your servant. Pray, doctor, may that.shaame gallows, for itish a disease dat is
I crave your name.  fatal to our family.-Vell, den, there is nothing,
Foig. Fat naam is upon me? My name is gentlemen, but Mrs. Sullen would speak wid the
Foigard, joy.                                count i}: her chamber at midnight; and dere is no
Aim. Foigard! a very good for a clergyman. harm, joy, for I am to conduct the count to de
Pray, Doctor Foigard, were you ever in Ireland 2 plaash myself'oig. Ireland! No, joy. Fat sort of a plaace   Arch. As I guessed.-Have you communicated
is dat shame Ireland? Dey say de people are the matter to the count?
catched dere when they are young.              Foig. I have not seen him since.
Aim. And some of them here when they are   Arch. Right again; why then, doctor-you
old,-as for example-[ Takes FOIGARD by the: shall conduct me to the lady instead of the count?.
shoulder.] Sir, I arrest you as a traitor against   Foig. Fat, my cussen to the lady! upon my
government; you are a subject of England, and shoul, gra, dat's too much upon the brogue.
this morning showed me a commission, by which:  Arch. Come, come, doctor, consider we have
you served as chaplain in the French army. got a rope about your neck, and if you offer to
This is death by our law, and your reverence' squeak, we'll stop your windpipe, most certainly;
must hang for it.                            we shall have another job for you in a day or two,
Foig. Upon my shoul, noble friend, dis is I hope.
strange news you tell me; fader Foigard a sub-:  Aim. Here's company coming this way; let's
ject of England! de son of a burgomaster at- into my chamber, and there concert our affairs
Brussels a subject of England! Ubooboo-      further.
Aim. The son of a bog-trotter in Ireland. Sir,   Arch. Come, my  dear cussen,- come along.
your tongue will condemn you before any bench'  Foig. Arrah, the devil take our relationsfip.
in the kingdom.                                                                 [Exeunt.
Foig. And is my tongue all your evidensh, joyS
Aim. That's enough.                       Enter BONIFACE, HOUNSLOW, and BAGSiOT, at
Foig. No, no, joy, for I will never spaak Eng-    one door, GIBBET at the opposite.
lish no more.                                  Gib. Well, gentlemen,'tis a fine night for our
Aim. Sir, I have other evidence. Here, Mar- enterprise.
tin, you know this fellow.  Houn. Dark as hell.
Bag. And blows like the devil: our landlord
Enter ARCHER.                 here has shown us the window where we must
Arch. [In a brogue.] Shave you, my dear break in, and tells us the plate stands in the
cussen, how does your health?                wainscot cupboard in the parlour.
Foig. Ah! upon-my soul, dere is my country-   Bon. Ay, ay, Mr. Bagshot, as the saying is,
man, and his brogue will hang mine. [Aside.] knives and forks, cups and cans, tumblers and
Mynhere, Ick wet. neal watt hey zacht, ich Uni- tankards-There's one tankard, as the saying is,
verston ewe neet, sacramant.                that's near upon as big as me; it was a present
Aim. Altering your language wont do, Sir'; to the'squire from his godmother, and smells of'
this fellow knows your person, and will swear to nutmeg and toast, like an East' India ship.
your face.                                     Houn. Then you say we must divide at the
Floig. Faash! Fey, is der de broguo upon my stair-head.
faash, too?                                   Bon. Yes, Mr. Hounslow, as the saying isArch. Upon my salvation dere is, joy.-But, At one end' of the gallery lies my Lady Bountiful
cussen Mackshane, vill you not put a remem-' and her daughter, and at the other Mrs. Sullen.
brance upon me 2                            -,As for the'squireFoig. Mackshane! by St. Patrick, dat ish my    Gib.' He's safe enough; I have fairly entered
name sure enough.                   [Aside. him, and he's more than half seas over alreadyAim. I fancy, Archer, you have it.        But such a parcel of scoundrels are got about him
Foig'. The devil hang you, joy-By fat ac- there, that egad, I was ashamed to be seen in
quaintance are you my cussen?               their company.




qCENEr,.J              THE BEAUX' STRATAGEM.                                       807
Bon.'Tis now twelve, as the saying is-Gen-    Sul. What! not lie with my wife! Why, Sir,
tlemen, you must set out at one.             do you take me for an atheist, or a rake?
Gib. Hounslow, do you and Bagshot see our   Sir C. If you hate her, Sir, I think you had
arms fixed, and I'll come to you presently.  better lie from her.
Houn. and Bag. We will.                      Sul. I think so too, friend-But I am a justice
[Exeunt HOUN. and BAG. of peace, and must do nothing against the law.
Gib. Well, my dear Bonny, you assure me   Sir C. Law! as I take it, Mr. Justice, nobody
that Scrub is a coward?                     observes law for law's sake,. only for the good of
Bon. A chicken, as the saying is-You'll have those for whom it was made.
no creature to deal with but the ladies.       Sul. But if the law orders me to send you to
Gib. And I can assure you, friend, there's a gaol, you must lie there, my friend.
great deal of address and good manners in rob-   Sir C. Not unless I commit a crime to de.
bing a lady: I am the most a gentleman that way serve it.
that ever travelled the road.-But, my dear Bon-   Sul. A crime! oons, an't I married?
ny, this prize will be a galleon, a Vigo business-   Sir C. Nay, Sir, if you call marriage a crime,
I warrant you, we shall bring off three or four you must disown it for a law.
thousand pounds.                               Sul. Eh!-I must be acquainted with you, Sir
Bon. In plate, jewels, and money, as the say- -But, Sir, I should be very glad to know the
ing is, you may.                             truth of this matter.
Gib. Why, then, Tyburn, I defy thee: I'll get   Sir C. Truth, Sir, is a profound sea, and few
up to town, sell off my horse and arms, but my- there be that dare wade deep enough to find out
self some pretty employment in the law, and be the bottom on't. Besides, Sir, I am afraid the line
as snug and as honest as e'er a long gown of of your understanding mayn't be long enough.
them all.                                      Sul. Lookye, Sir, I have nothing to say to
Bon. And what think you, then, of my daugh- your sea of truth; but, if a good parcel of land
ter Cherry for a wife?                      can entitle a man to a little truth, I have as much
Gib. Lookye, my dear Bonny, Cherry is the- as any he in the country.
goddess I adore, as the song goes; but it is a   Bon. I never heard your worship, as the saymaxim, that man and wife should never have it ing is, talk so much before.
in their power to hang one another; for, if they    Sul. Because I never met with a man that I
should, the Lord have mercy upon them both.   liked before.
[Exeunt.   Bon. Pray, Sir, as the saying is, let me ask you
one question: Are not man and wife one flesh'
ACT V.                        Sir C. You and your wife, Mr. Guts, may be
one flesh, because you are nothing else-but raSCENE I.-The Inn.                tional creatures have minds that must be united.
Enter BONIFPACE.                 Sul. Minds?
Bon. Coming, coming-a coach and six foam-'  Sir C. Ay, minds, Sir; don't you think that
on. ~ Ciciaosf  mind takes place of the body'?
mng horses at this time o night! some great man,   Sul In some people
as the saying is, for he scorns to travel with    Sir C.  he  the i  t of the master must
be consulted before that of his servant.
Enter SIR CHARLES FREEMAN.             Sul. Sir, you shall dine with me to-morrowSir C. What, fellow! a public house, and a- Oons, I always thought that we were naturally
bed when other people sleep!                 one.
Bon. Sir, I an't a-bed, as the saying is.    Sir C. Sir, -1 know that my two hands are naSir C. I see that, as the saying is! Is Mr.. turally one, because they love one another, kiss
Sullen's family a-bed, think ye?            one another, help one another in all the actions
Bon. All but the'squire himself, Sir, as the of life; but I could not say so'much if they were
saying is: he's in the house.                always at cuffs.
Sir C. What company has he?                  Sul. Then,'tis plain we are two.
Bon. Why, Sir, there's the constable-Mr.   Sir C. Why don't you part with her, Sir?
Gage, the exciseman-the hunch-backed barber.   Sul. Will you take her, Sir 
-and two or three other gentlemen.             Sir C. With all my heart.
Sir C. I find my sister's letters gave me the   Sul. You shall have her to-morrow morning.
true picture of her spouse.                  and a venison pasty into the bargain.
Sir C. You'll let me have her fortune too?
Enter SULLEN, drunk.               Sul. Fortune! why, Sir, I have no quarrel to
Bon. Sir, here's the'squire.              her fortune-I only hate' the woman, Sir, and,Sul. The puppies left me asleep-Sir.     none but the woman shall go.
Sir C. WV ell, Sir.                          Sir C. But her fortune, SirSul. Sir, I am an unfortunate man-I have   Sul. Can you play at whist, Sir?
three thousand pounds a-year, and I can't get a:   Sir C. No, truly, Sir.
man to drink a cup of ale with me.             Sul. Nor at all-fours.
Sir C. That's very hard.                     Sir C. Neither.
Sul. Ay, Sir; and unless you have pity upon    Sul. Oons! where was this man bred? [Aside.]
me, and smoke one pipe with me, I must e'en go Burn me, Sir, I can't go home;'tis but two
home to my wife, and I had rather go to the devil o'clock.
by one half.                                   Sir C. For half an hour, Sir, if you pleaseSir C. But I presume, Sir, you wont see your but you must consider'tis late.
wife to-night, she'll be gone to-bed-you don't   Sul. Late! that is the reason I can't go to bed
use to lie with your wife in that pickle.    -Come, Sir.                        [Exeunt.




808                    THE BEAUX' STRATAGEM.                                   [ACT V.
Enter CHERRY; she runs across the stage, and    Arch. And I with wonder.
knocks at AIMWELL'S chamber-door. Enter                       [Looks passionately at her.
AIMWELL, in his nightcap and gown.           Mrs. S. What will become of me?
Aim. What's the matter? you. tremble, child; * Arch. How beautiful she looks!-the teeming,
you are frighteda!                           jolly spring smiles in her blooming face, and
Cher. No, wonder, Sir-but, in short, Sir, this when she was conceived, her mother smelt tc
very minute a gang of rogues are gone to rob my roses, looked on liliesLady Bountiful's house.                      Lilies unfold their white, their fragrant charms,
Aim. How!                                  When the warm sun that darts into their arms.
Cher. I dogged them to the very door, and left                            [Runs to her.
them breaking in.                             Mrs. S. Ah!                      [Shrieks.
Aim. Have you alarmed any body else with   Arch. Oons, Madam, what do you mean?
the news.                                    you'll raise the house.
Cher. No, no, Sir; I wanted to have discovered  -Mrs. S. Sir, I'll wake the dead, before I'll bear
the whole plot, and twenty other things, to your this. What! approach me with the freedom of a
-man, Martin; but I have searched the whole keeper! I'm glad on't; your impudence has cured
house, and can't find him; where is he       me.
Aim. No matter, child; will you guide me im-   Arch. If this be impudence, [Kneels.] I leave
mediately to the house?                     to your partial self; no panting pilgrim, after a
Cher. With all my heart, Sir; my Lady Boun- tedious, painful voyage, e'er bowed before his
tiful is my godmother, and I love Miss Dorinda saint with more devotion.
so well- -                                     Mrs. S. Now, now, I'm ruin'd if he kneels.
Aim. Dorinda! the name inspires me! the glory [Aside.] Rise, thou prostrate engineer; not all
and the danger shall be all my own —Come, my thy undermining skill shall reach my heart. Rise,
life, let me but get my sword.     [Exeunt. and know that I am a woman without my sex; I
SCENE' I[. —A  Bed-chamber in L ADY  BOmIN- can love to all the tenderness of wishes, sighs,
TIFUL'S House.               and tears.-But go no farther-Still, to convince
you that I'm more than woman, I can speak my
MRS. SULLEN and DoRINDA discovered; a table frailty, confess my weakness even for youand lights.                 ButDor.'Tis very late, sister; no news of your   Arch. For me i    [Going to lay hold on her.
spouse yet?                                   Mlrs. S. Hold, Sir; build not upon that-for
Mrs. S. No; I'm condemned to be alone till my most mortal hatred follows, if you disobey
towards four, and then, perhaps, I may be exe- what I command you now-leave me this minute.
cuted with his company.                      If he denies, I'm lost.             [Aside.
Dor. Well, my dear, I'll leave you to your   Arch. Then you'll promisewest; you'll go directly to bed, I suppose.    Mrs. S. Any thing, another time.
Mrs. S. I don't know what to do; heigho!    Arch. When shall I come?
Dor. That's a desiring sigh, sister.         Mrs. S. To-morrow-when you will.
/Irs. S. This is a languishing hour, sister.  Arch. Your lips must seal the promise.
Dor. And might prove a critical minute, if    Urs. S. Pshaw!
the pretty fellow were here.                   Airch. They must, they must. [Kisses her.]
Mrs. S. Here! what, in my bed-chamber, at Raptures and paradise! and why not now, my
two o'clock i' th' morning! I undressed, the family angel? The time, the place, silence, and secresy,
asleep, my hated husband abroad, and my lovely all conspire —And now the conscious stars have
fellow at my feet!-0, gad, sister!         pre-ordained this moment for my happiness.
Dor. Thoughts are free, sister, and them I                      [Takes her in his arms.
allow you-So, my dear, good night.    [Exit.  UMrs. S. You will not, cannot, sure.
Mirs. S. A good rest to my dear Dorinda-   Arch. If the sun rides fast, and disappoints not
Thoughts free! are they so? why, then, suppose mortals of to-morrow's dawn, this night shall
him here, dressed like a youthful, gay, and burn- crown my joys.
ing bridegroom, [ARCHER steals out of the closet.]   Mrs. S. My sex's pride assist me.
with tongue enchanting, eyes bewitching, knees   Arch. My sex's strength help me.
imploring-[ Turns a little on one side, and sees   AIrs. S. You shall kill me first.
ARCHER in the posture she describes.]  Ah!   Arch. I'll die with you.    [Carrying her off.
l Shrieks, and runs to the other side of the stage.]   Mrs. S. Thieves! thieves! murder!
Have my thoughts raised a spirit?  What are
you, Sir! a man or a devil?
you, Sir! a man or a devil? qEnter SCRUB, in his breeches, and one shoe.
Arch. A man, a man, Madam.       [Rising.   Scrub. Thieves! thieves! murder! popery!
Mrs. S. How shall I be sure of it ~         Arch. Ha! [Draws, and offers to stab SCRUB.
Arch. Madam, I'll give you demonstration this   Scrub. [Kneeling.] 0, pray, Sir, spare all I
minute.                    [Takes her hand. have, and take my life.
Mrlis. S. What, Sir! do you intend to be rude?   Mrs. S. [Holding ARCHER'S hand.] What
Arch. Yes, Madam, if you please.          does the fellow mean?
Mrs. S. In the name ofwonder, whence came ye?   Scrub. 0, Madam, down upon your knees,
Arch. From the skies, Madam-I'm a Jupiter your marrow-bones-he's one of them.
tit love, and you shall be my Alemena.         Arch. Of whom?
Mrs. S. How came you in?                    Scrub. One of the rogues-I beg your pardon,
Arch. I flew in at the window, Madam, your one of the honest gentlemen, that juyst now are
cousin Cupid lent me his wings, and your sister broke into the house.
rVenus opened the casement.                    Arch.. How!
Mrs. S. I'm struck dumb with admiration.  M: Mrs. S. I hope you did not come to rob me?




C.CENE II.]          THE BEAUX' STRATAGEM.                                      809
Arch. Indeed I did, Madam, but I would have   Arch. How many are there of them, Scrub?
taken nothing but what you might very well have   Scrub. Five and forty, Sir.
pDared; but your crying thieves has waked this   Arch. Then I must kill the villain, to have
dfreaming fool, and so he takes them for granted. him out of the way.
Scrub. Granted!'tis granted, Sir; take all we   - Gib. Hold! hold! Sir; we are but three, upon
save.                                      my honour.
Mrs. S. The fellow looks as if he were broke   Airch. Scrub, will you undertake to secure him
"ut of Bedlam.                               Scrub. Not I, Sir; kill. him, kill him!
Scrub. Oons, Madam. they're broke into the   Arch. Run to Gipsey's chamber; there you'll
9iouse with fire and sword; I saw them, heard find the doctor; bring him hither presently. [Exit
them, they'll be here this minute.         SCRUB, running.] Come, rogue, if you have a
Arch. What! thieves?                   short prayer, say it.
Scrub. Under favour, Sir, I think so.      Gib. Sir, I have no prayer at all; the govern1lrs. S. What shall we do, Sir?         ment has provided a chaplain to say prayers for
Arch. Madam, I wish your ladyship a good us on these occasions.
night.                                       Mrs. S. Pray, Sir, don't kill him; you fright
Mrs. S. Will you leave me?               me as much as him.
Arch. Leave you! lord, Madam, did not you   Arch. The dog shall die, Madam. for being
command me to be gone just now, upon the pain the occasion of my disappointment. Sirrah, this
of your mortal hatred.                     moment is your last.
Mrs. S. Nay, but pray, Sir-                 Gib. Sir, I'll give you two hundred pounds to
[ Takes hold of hint. spare my life.
Arch. Ha, ha, ha! now comes my turn to be   Arch. Have you no more, rascal?
ravished.-You see now, Madam, you must use   Gib. Yes, Sir, I can command four hundred;
men one way or other; but take this by the way, but I must reserve two of them to save my life at
good Madam, that none but a fool will give you the sessions.
the benefit of his courage, unless you take his love  Enter SCRUB and FOIGARD.
along with it. How are they armed, friend?   Arch. Here, doctor; I suppose Scrub and you,
Scrub, With sword and pistol, Sir.       between you, may manage him.-Lay hold of
[He gets under the table. him.        [FOICrARD lays hold of GIBBET.
Archt. Hush! I see a dark lanltern coming   Gib. What! turned over to the priest already
through the gallery-Madam, be assured I will -Lookye, doctor, you come before your time; I
protect you, or lose my life.              an't condemned yet, I thank ye.
Mrs. S. Your life! no, Sir, they can rob me of
Foig. Come, my dear joy, I vil secure your
nothing that I value half so much; theref  body and your shoul too; I will make you a good
now, Sir, let me entreat you to be gone.   catholic and give you an absolution.
Arch. No, Madam, I'll consult my own safety   Gib. Absolution! can you procure me a parfor the sake of yours; I'll work by stratagem: don, doctor
have you courage enough to stand the appearance Foig. No, joy.
of them.                                      Gib. Then you and your absolution may go to
AMrs. S. Yes, yes; since I have escaped your the devil.
hands, I         can face any thing.         Arch. Convey him into the cellar, there bind
Arch. Come hither, brother Scrub: don't you him. Take the pistol, and if he offers to resist,
know me?                                   shoot him through the head,-and come back to
Scrub. Eh I my brother, Martin.          us with all the speed you can.
Arch. This way-EHere-                      Scrub. Ay, ay; come, doctor, do you hold him
[ARCHER and SCRUB hide. fast, and I'll guard him.
Enter GIBBET, with a dark lantern in one hand, and   [Exit SCRUB, GIBBET, and FOIGARn.
a pistol in the other.          Mrs. S. But how came the doctor?
Gib. Ay, ay, this is the chamber, and the lady   Arch. In short, Madam-y[Shrieking without.j
alone.'Sdeath! the rogues are at work with the other.Mzrs. S. Who are you, Sir? What would you ladies: I'm vexed I parted with the pistol; but I
have?  D'ye come to rob me 2               must fly to their assistance-Will you stay here,
have,.1 D'ye come to rob me 7          Madam or venture yourself with me?
Gib. Rob you! Alack-a-day, Madam, I'm only Madam, or venture yourself with me?
a younger brother, Madam; and so, Madam, if.. Oh, with you, dear Sir, with you.
you make a noise,'11 shoot you through the          [Takes him by the arm, and Exeunt.
head: but don't be afraid, Madam. [Laying his    SCEINE III.-Another Apartment.
lantern and pistol upon the table.] These rings, Enter HOUNSLOW, dragging in LADY BOUNTIMadam; don't be concerned, Madam; I have a   FUL, and BAC:HoTr hauling in DORIND_,. Tk~
profound respect for you, Madam; your keys,   Rogues with swords drawn.
Madam; don't be frighted, Madam; I'm the mome, your jewels, mistress.
of a gentleman-[Searching her pockets.] This   Bag. Your keys, your keys old gentlewoman.
necklace, Madam; I never was rude to any lady! 
I have a veneration-for this necklace.                   Enter AIMWELL.
[Here ARCHER, having come round and seized the   Aim. Turn this way, villains; I durst engage
pistol, takes GIBBET by the collar, trips up his an army in such a cause.
heels, and claps the pistol to his breast.                   [He engages them both.,
Arch. Hold, profane villain, and take the re-  Enter ARCHER and MRS. SULLEN.
ward of thy sacrilege.                       Arch. Hold! hold! my lord; every man hiJ
Gib. Oh! pray, Sir, don't kill me; I an't pre- bird, pray. [Fight; the rogues are disarmed.]
pared.                                     Shall we kill the rogues?
VOL. I.... 5 K     68




'810                   THE BEAUX' STRATAGEM,                                    [ACT V.
Aim. No, no; we'll bind them.              -Was not this blood shed in your defence, and
Arch. Ay, ay; here, Madam, lend me your my life exposed for your protection?-Lookye,
4arter.  [To MRS. SULLEN, who stands by him. Madam, I'm none of your romantic fools, that'Mrs. S. The devil's in this fellow; he fights, fight giants: and monsters for nothing; my valour
loves, and banters, all in a breath: here's a rope is downright Swiss; I am -a soldier of fortune, and
that the rogues brought with them, I suppose.   must be paid.
Arch. Right, right, the rogue's destiny, a rope   Mrs. S.'Tis ungenerous in you, Sir, to upo hang himself-Come, my lord-this is but a braid me with your services.
scandalous sort of an office, [Binding the rogues   Arch.'Tis ungenerous in you, Madam, not to
together.] if our adventure should end in this reward them.
sort of hangman work; but I hope there is some-   Mrs. S. How! at the expense of my honour!
thing in prospect that-                        Arch. Honour! Can honour consist with ingratitude! If you would deal like a woman of
Enter SCRUB.                 honour, do like a man of honour: d'ye think I
Well, Scrub, have you secured your Tartar'  would deny you in such a case'
Scrub. Yes, Sir, I left the priest and him dis-           Enter GIPSEY.
puting about religion.                         Gip. Madam, my lady has ordered me to tell
Aim. And pray carry these gentlemen to reap you, that your brother is below at the gate.:the benefit of the controversy.               lurs. S. My brother! Heavens be praised:[Delivers the prisoners to SCRUB, who leads Sir, he shall thank you for your services; he hias
them out.                             it in his power.
iMrs. S. Pray, sister, how came my lord here 3   Arch. Vho is your brother, Madam.
Dor. And pray, how came the gentleman here?    Mrs. S. Sir Charles Freeman. You'll excuse
Mrs. S. I'll tell you the greatest piece of vil- me, Sir; I must go and receive him.  [Exit.
lany-               [ They talk in dumb show.   Arch. Sir Charles Freeman!'Sdeath and
Aim. I fancy, Archer, you have been more hell!-my old acquaintance. Now, unless Aimsuccessful in your adventure than the house- well has made good use of his time, all our fair
breakers.                                    machine goes souse into the sea, like the EddyArch. No matter for my adventure, yours is stone.                                [Exit.
the principal-Press her this minute to marry
you-now while she's hurried between the pal-   SCENE IV-A Galery in the same House.
pitation of her fear, and the joy of her deliver-   Enter AIMWELL and DORINDA.
ance; now while the tide of her spirits are at   Dor. W
high flood:-throw  yourself at her feet, speake                m  l   y    v c
ehigh rlood-throw yourself at hern fonet, spe   -Your late generous action will, I hope, plead
some romantic nonsense or other-confound her              y                      
X dn hr r n         formy easy yielding; though I must own your
senses, bear down her reason, and away withordsh  had          in the.fort before.
senses, w   *  *  *  I 2  1lordship had a friend in the fort before.
her. The priest is now in the cellar, and dare   Aim. The sweets of Hybla dwell upon her
not refuse to do the work.                   tongue. Here, doctorAim. But how shall I get off without being tongu. Here, doctorobserved'?                                           Enter FIGARD, with a book.
Arch. You a lover, and not find a way to get   Foig. Are you prepared, bote?
aff! —Let me see.                              Dor. I'm ready; but first, my lord, one wordAim, You bleed, Archer.                    I have a frightful example of a hasty marriage in
Arch,'Sdeath, I'm glad on't; this wound will my own family; when I reflect upon't, it shocks
do the business-I'll amuse the old lady and Mrs. me. Pray, my lord, consider a littleSullen about dressing my wound, while you   Aim. Consider! do you doubt my honour or
carry off Dorinda.                           my love I
Lady B. Gentlemen, could we understand    Dor. Neither. I do believe you equally just
how you would be gratified for the services-    as brave-And were your whole sex drawn out
Arch. Come, come, my lady, this is no time for for me to choose, I should not cast a look upon the
compliments; I'm wounded, Madam.             multitude, if you were absent-But, my lord, I'm
Lady B. 4- Mrs. S. How! wounded!           a woman:-colours, concealments,.may hide a
Dor. I hope, Sir, you have received no hurt?  thousand faults in me-Therefore know me bet[To AIM. ter first; I hardly dare affirm I know myself in
Aim. None but what you may cure. [Makes love. any thing except my love.
Lady B. Let me see your arm, Sir-I must   Aim. Such goodness who could injure?  I find
have some powder-sugar, to stop the blood-O  myself unequal to the task of villain. She has
me! an ugly gash; upon my word, Sir, you gained my soul, and made it honest like her own
must go into bed.                            -I cannot hurt her. [Aside.] Doctor, retire.
Arch. Ay, my lady, a bed would do very well [Exit FOIGAPD.] Madam, behold your lover and
-— Madam,! [To MRs. SULLEN.] will you do me your proselyte, and judge of my passion by my
the favour to conduct me to a chamber 2      conversion —I'm all a lie, nor dare I give a ficLady B. Do, do, daughter-while I get the tion to your arms; I'm all a counterfeit, except
lint, and the probe, and the plaister, ready.  my passion.
[Run.s out one way; AIM. carries off DOR,   Dor. Forbid it, Heaven! a counterfeit!
another.:Aim. I am no lord, but a poor needy man,
Arch. C(ome, Madam, why don't you obey come, with a mean and scandalous design, to
your motlhr's commands?                      prey upon your fortune!-but the beauties of
Mrs. S  How can you, after what is past, have your mind and person have so won me from mythe confidence to ask me?                   self, that, like a trusty servant, I prefer the inArch. And if you go~to that, how can you, af- terest of my mistress to my own.
ter what is past, have the confidence to deny me?   Dor. Pray, Sir, who are you?




SCENE IV.]            THE BEAUX' STRATAGEM.                                     811
Ai:m. Brother to the man whose title I usurped,  - -Foig. Upon my shoul, and so is myshelf.
but stranger to his honour or his fortune.    Arch. What's the matter now, Madam'
Dor. -Mlatchless:honesty!-Once I was'proud;   Dor. Lookye Sir, one generous action deserves
Sir, of your wealth and title, but now am prouder another.-This gentleman's honour obliged him
that you -want it. Now I can show my regard to hide nothing from me; my justice engages me
was justly levelled, and had no aim but love. Doc- to conceal nothing from him; in short, Sir, you
Uor, come in.                               are the person that you thought you counterEnter FoIGARD at one door, GIPSEY at another, feited; you are the true Lord Viscount Aimwell,
who wohispers DORINDA.'and I wish your lordship joy. Now, priest, you
may be gone; if my lord is now pleased with the
Your pardon, Sir, we sha'n't want you now, Sir. match, let his lordship marry me in the face of the
You must excuse me-I'll wait on you presently. world.
[Exit withy G~IPSEY.   Aim. Archer, what does she mean?
Foig. Upon my shoul, now dis is foolish. [Exit.    Heres  a     witness for my truth.
Aim. Gone! and bid the priest depart-it has 
an ominous look.                               Enter SIR CHARLES and MRS. SULLEN.
Enter ARCHER.                   Sir C. My dear Lord Aimwell, I wish you joy.
Arch. Courage, Tom-shall I wish you joy!    Aim. Of what'
Aim. No.                                    Sir C. Of your honour and estate. Your breArch. Oons! man, what ha' you been doing?  ther died the day before I left London; and all
Aim. O, Archer, my honesty, I fear, has ru- your friends have writ after you to Brussels:
ined me.                                    among the rest, I did myself the honour.
Arch. How?                                Arch. Harkye, Sir knight, don't you banter
Aim. I have discovered myself             now?
Arch. Discovered! and without my consent!   Sir C.'Tis truth, upon my honour.
What! Have I embarked my small remains in   Aim. Thanks to the pregnant stars that formthe same bottom with yours, and you dispose of ed this accident.
all without my partnership?  Arch. Thanks to the womb of time that brought
Aim. 0, Archer, I own my fault.          it forth; away with it.
Arch. After conviction-'Tis then too late for   Aim. Thanks to my guardian angel that led
pardon. — You may remember, Mr. Aimwell, that me to the prize.-   [Taking DORINDA's hand.
you proposed this folly —As you began, so end it.   Arch. And double thanks to the noble Sir
-Henceforth I'll hunt my fortune singly-So, Charles Freeman. My lord, I wish you joy. My
farewell.                                  lady, I wish you joy —'Egad, Sir Charles, you're
Aim. Stay, my dear Archer, but a minute.    the honestest fellow living-'Sdeath, I'm grown
Arch. Stay! What, to be despised, exposed. strangely airy upon this matter-My lord, how
and laughed at! No, I would sooner change con- d'ye do?-A word, my lord. Don't you remenm
ditions with the worst of the rogues we just now  ber something of a previous agreement that entibound, than bear one scornful smile from the tles me to the moiety of this lady's fortune, which,
proud knight that once I treated as my equal.    T think, will amount to ten thousand pounds?
Aim. What knight'!                          Aim. Not a penny, Archer. You would ha'
Arch. Sir Charles Freeman, brother to the cut my throat just now, because I would not de,
lady that I had almost-But no matter for that; ceive this lady.'tis a cursed night's work, and so I leave you to   Arch. Ay, and Ill cut your throat still if you
make the best on't.                        should deceive her now.
Aim. Freieman!-One word, Archer. Still I   Aim. That's what I expect; and to end the
have hopes; methought she received my confes- dispute, the lady's fortune is twenty thousand
sion with pleasure.                        pounds; we'll divide stakes; take the twenty thouArch.'Sdeath, who doubts it'            sand pounds, or the lady.
Aim. She consented after to the match; and   Dor. How! Is your lordship so indifferent' 
still I dare believe she will be just.       Arch. No, no, no, Madam, his lordship knows
Arch. To herself, I warrant her, as you should very well that I'll take the money; I leave you to
have been.                                 his lordship, and so we're both provided for.
Aim.. By all my hopes she comes, and smiling           Enter FoIGARD.
comes.
Enter DORINDA, gaily.             Foig. Arrah fait, de people do say you be all
Dor. Come, my dear lord-I fly with impa- robbed,  Joy
tience to your arms-The minutes of my absence   Aim. The ladies have been in some danger,
were a tedious year. Where's the priest'   Sir, as you saw.
Foig. Upon my shoul, our inn be robbed too.
Enter FoiGARD.                 Aim. Our inn! By whom?
Arch. Oons, a brave girl.                  Poig. Upon my shalvation, our landlord has
Dor. I suppose, my lord, this gentleman is robbed himself, and run away vid de money.
privy to our affairs'?                       Arch. Robbed himself'l
Arch. Yes, yes, Madam, I'm to be your father.   Foig. A.y fait! and me too, of a hundred
Dor. Come, priest, do your office.       pounds.
Arch. Make haste, make haste, couple them    Arch. Robbed you of a hundred pounds!
any way. [Takes AIMWELL'S hand.] Come, Ma-   Foig. Yes, fait, honey, that I did owe to him.
dam, I'm to give you —                       Aim. Our money's gone, Frank.
Dor. My mind's altered; I wont.            Arch. Rot the money, my wench is gone
Arch. Eh-I Scavez-vous  quelque-chose  de  Mademoisell
Aim. I'm confounded.                      Cherry?




812                    THE BEAUX' STRATAGEM.                                    AeT aV.
Sir C. This good company meets opportunely   Sir C. Are your expectations answered?
in favour of a design I have in behalf of my un-   Mrs. S. No.
fortunate sister. I intend to part her from her   Foig. Arrah, honeys, a clear caase, a clear
husband-Gentlemen, will you assist me 1      caase!
Arch. Assist you!'Sdeath, who would not?   Sir C. What are the bars to your mutual conFoig. Ay, upon my shoul, we'll all ashist.    tentment?
Enter SULLEN.                   Mrs. S. In the first place, I can't drink ale with
him.
Sul. What's all this?  They tell me, spouse,   Sul. Nor can I drink tea with her.
that you had like to have been robbed.         Mars. S. I can't hunt with you.
Mrs. S. Truly, spouse, I was pretty near it-    Sul. Nor can I dance with you.
had not these two gentlemen interposed.        Mrs. S. I hate cocking and racing.
Sul. How came these gentlemen here?         Sul. I abhor ombre and piquet.
Mrs. S. That's his way for returning thanks,   Mrs. S. Your silence is intolerable.
you must know.                                 Sul. Your prating is worse.
Foig. Ay, but upon my conscience de question    Mrs. S. Is there a thing on earth we can agree
oe a-propos for all dat.                     in?
Sir C. You promised last night, Sir, that you    Sul. Yes-to part.
would deliver your lady to me this morning.    Mrs. S. With all my heart.,Sul. Humph!                                 Sul. Your hand.
Arch. Humph!  What do you mean by   Mrs. S. Here.
humph?-Sir, you shall deliver her-In short, Sir,   Sul. These hands joined us, these shall part
we have saved you and your family; and if you us-Awayare not civil, we'll unbind the rogues, join with   Mlrs. S. East.'em, and set fire to your house-What does the   Sul. West.
man mean? Not part with his wife.             Mrs. S. North.
Foig. Arrah, not part wid your wife! Upon    Sul. South; as far as the poles asunder.
my shoul, de man does not understand common   Foig. Amen! Upon my shoul, a very pretty
shivility.                                   sheremony.
Mrs. S. Hold. gentlemen, all things here must   Sir C. Now, Mr. Sullen, there wants only my
move by consent. Compulsion would spoil us. sister's fortune to make us easy.
Let my dear and I talk the matter over, and you    Sul. Sir Charles, you love your sister, and I
shall judge between us.                     love her fortune; every one to his fancy.
Sul. Let me know, first, who are to be our   Arch. Then you wont refund?
judges. Pray, Sir, who are you?                Sul. Not a stiver.
Sir C. I am Sir Charles Freeman, come to   Arch. What is her portion?
take away your wife.                           Sir C. Twenty thousand pounds, Sir.
Sul. And you, good Sir?                      Arch. I'll pay it. My lord, I thank him, has
Aim. Thomas Viscount Aimwell, come to take enabled me. This night's adventure has proved
away your sister.                            strangely lucky to us all-for Captain Gibbet in
Sul. And you, pray, Sir?                   his walk has made bold, Mr. Sullen, with your
Arch. Francis Archer, Esq. come-           study and escritoir, and has taken out all the
Sul. To take away my mother, I hope-Gen- writings of your estate; all the articles of marriage
tlemen, you're heartily welcome. I never met with your lady, bills, bonds, leases, and receipts,
with three more obliging people since I was born to an infinite value; I took'em from him, and
-And now, my dear, if you please, you shall will deliver them to Sir Charles.
have the first word.                           [ Gives him a parcel qf papers and parchments.
Arch. And the last, for five pounds.  [Aside.   Sul. How, my writings! my head aches conMrs. S. Spouse.                            sumedly. Well, gentlemen, you shall have her
Sul. Rib.                                  fortune, but I can't talk. If you have a mind, Sir
Mrs. S. How long have you been married?    Charles, to be merry, and celebrate my sister's
Sul. By the almanack fourteen months; —but wedding, and my divorce, you may command my
by my account, fourteen years.               house! but my head aches consumedly —Scrub,
Mrs. S.'Tis thereabout by my reckoning.   bring me a dram.                      [Exit.
Foig. Upon my conscience, deir accounts vil   Foig. And, Scrub, put a little drop on the top
agree.                                       for me!                               [Exit.
JIrs. S. Pray, spouse. what did you marry for?   Arch.'Twould be hard to guess which of these
Sul. To get an heir to my estate.          parties are the better pleased, the couple joined,
Sir C. And have you succeeded?'            or the couple parted: the one rejoicing in hopes
Sul. No.                                   of an untasted happiness, and the other in their
Arch. The condition fails on his side-Pray, deliverance from an experienced misery.
Madam, what did you marry for?                Both happy in their several states we find;
Mrs. S To support the weakness of my sex    These parted by consent, and those conjoin't:
bythe strength of his, and to enjoy the pleasures   Consent, if mutual, saves the lavwyer's fee,
of an agreeable society.                       Consent is law enough to set you free.
END OF VOL. I.