_Phil._ Oh, Tom, you grow wanton, and sensual, as my lady calls it; I

must not endure it. Oh! foh! you are a man--an odious, filthy, male

creature--you should behave, if you had a right sense or were a man of

sense, like Mr. Cimberton, with distance and indifference; or, let me

see, some other becoming hard word, with seeming in-in-inadvertency,

and not rush on one as if you were seizing a prey.--But hush! the

ladies are coming.--Good Tom, don't kiss me above once, and be gone.

Lard, we have been fooling and toying, and not considered the main

business of our masters and mistresses.

_Tom._ Why, their business is to be fooling and toying as soon as the

parchments are ready.

_Phil._ Well remembered, parchments; my lady, to my knowledge, is

preparing writings between her coxcomb cousin, Cimberton, and my

mistress, though my master has an eye to the parchments already

prepared between your master, Mr. Bevil, and my mistress; and, I

believe, my mistress herself has signed and sealed, in her heart, to

Mr. Myrtle.--Did I not bid you kiss me but once, and be gone? But I

know you won't be satisfied.

_Tom._ No, you smooth creature, how should I? [_Kissing her hand._

_Phil._ Well, since you are so humble, or so cool, as to ravish my hand

only, I'll take my leave of you like a great lady, and you a man of

quality. [_They salute formally._

_Tom._ Pox of all this state. [_Offers to kiss her more closely._

_Phil._ No, prithee, Tom, mind your business. We must follow that

interest which will take, but endeavour at that which will be most for

us, and we like most. Oh, here is my young mistress! [TOM _taps her

neck behind, and kisses his fingers._] Go, ye liquorish fool. [_Exit_

TOM.

_Enter_ LUCINDA.

_Luc._ Who was that you were hurrying away?

_Phil._ One that I had no mind to part with.

_Luc._ Why did you turn him away then?

_Phil._ For your ladyship's service--to carry your ladyship's letter to

his master. I could hardly get the rogue away.

_Luc._ Why, has he so little love for his master?

_Phil._ No; but he hath so much love for his mistress.

_Luc._ But I thought I heard him kiss you. Why did you suffer that?

_Phil._ Why, madam, we vulgar take it to be a sign of love--We

servants, we poor people, that have nothing but our persons to bestow

or treat for, are forced to deal and bargain by way of sample, and

therefore as we have no parchments or wax necessary in our agreements,

we squeeze with our hands and seal with our lips, to ratify vows and

promises.

_Luc._ But can't you trust one another without such earnest down?

_Phil._ We don't think it safe, any more than you gentry, to come

together without deeds executed.

_Luc._ Thou art a pert merry hussy.

_Phil._ I wish, madam, your lover and you were as happy as Tom and your

servant are.

_Luc._ You grow impertinent.

_Phil._ I have done, madam; and I won't ask you what you intend to

do with Mr. Myrtle, what your father will do with Mr. Bevil, nor

what you all, especially my lady, mean by admitting Mr. Cimberton as

particularly here as if he were married to you already; nay, you are

married actually as far as people of quality are.

_Luc._ How is that?

_Phil._ You have different beds in the same house.

_Luc._ Pshaw! I have a very great value for Mr. Bevil, but have

absolutely put an end to his pretensions in the letter I gave you for

him. But my father, in his heart, still has a mind to him, were it not

for this woman they talk of; and I am apt to imagine he is married to

her, or never designs to marry at all.

_Phil._ Then Mr. Myrtle----

_Luc._ He had my parents' leave to apply to me, and by that he has won

me and my affections; who is to have this body of mine without them,

it seems, is nothing to me. My mother says 'tis indecent for me to let

my thoughts stray about the person of my husband; nay, she says a

maid, rigidly virtuous, though she may have been where her lover was a

thousand times, should not have made observations enough to know him

from another man when she sees him in a third place.

_Phil._ That is more than the severity of a nun, for not to see when

one may is hardly possible; not to see when one can't is very easy. At

this rate, madam, there are a great many whom you have not seen who----

_Luc._ Mamma says the first time you see your husband should be at that

instant he is made so. When your father, with the help of the minister,

gives you to him, then you are to see him; then you are to observe and

take notice of him; because then you are to obey him.

_Phil._ But does not my lady remember you are to love as well as obey?

_Luc._ To love is a passion, it is a desire, and we must have no

desires.--Oh, I cannot endure the reflection! With what insensibility

on my part, with what more than patience have I been exposed and

offered to some awkward booby or other in every county of Great Britain!

_Phil._ Indeed, madam, I wonder I never heard you speak of it before

with this indignation.

_Luc._ Every corner of the land has presented me with a wealthy

coxcomb. As fast as one treaty has gone off, another has come on, till

my name and person have been the tittle-tattle of the whole town. What

is this world come to?--no shame left--to be bartered for like the

beasts of the field, and that in such an instance as coming together

to an entire familiarity and union of soul and body. Oh! and this

without being so much as well-wishers to each other, but for increase

of fortune.

_Phil._ But, madam, all these vexations will end very soon in one for

all. Mr. Cimberton is your mother's kinsman, and three hundred years

an older gentleman than any lover you ever had; for which reason, with

that of his prodigious large estate, she is resolved on him, and has

sent to consult the lawyers accordingly; nay, has (whether you know it

or no) been in treaty with Sir Geoffry, who, to join in the settlement,

has accepted of a sum to do it, and is every moment expected in town

for that purpose.

_Luc._ How do you get all this intelligence?

_Phil._ By an art I have, I thank my stars, beyond all the

waiting-maids in Great Britain--the art of listening, madam, for your

ladyship's service.

_Luc._ I shall soon know as much as you do; leave me, leave me,

Phillis, begone. Here, here! I'll turn you out. My mother says I must

not converse with my servants, though I must converse with no one else.

[_Exit_ PHIL.]--How unhappy are we who are born to great fortunes! No

one looks at us with indifference, or acts towards us on the foot of

plain dealing; yet, by all I have been heretofore offered to or treated

for I have been used with the most agreeable of all abuses--flattery.

But now, by this phlegmatic fool I'm used as nothing, or a mere thing.

He, forsooth, is too wise, too learned to have any regard for desires,

and I know not what the learned oaf calls sentiments of love and

passion--Here he comes with my mother--It's much if he looks at me, or

if he does, takes no more notice of me than of any other movable in the

room.

_Enter_ MRS. SEALAND, _and_ MR. CIMBERTON.

_Mrs. Seal._ How do I admire this noble, this learned taste of yours,

and the worthy regard you have to our own ancient and honourable house

in consulting a means to keep the blood as pure and as regularly

descended as may be.

_Cim._ Why, really, madam, the young women of this age are treated with

discourses of such a tendency, and their imaginations so bewildered

in flesh and blood, that a man of reason can't talk to be understood.

They have no ideas of happiness, but what are more gross than the

gratification of hunger and thirst.

_Luc._ With how much reflection he is a coxcomb! [_Aside._

_Cim._ And in truth, madam, I have considered it as a most brutal

custom that persons of the first character in the world should go as

ordinarily, and with as little shame, to bed as to dinner with one

another. They proceed to the propagation of the species as openly as to

the preservation of the individual.

_Luc._ She that willingly goes to bed to thee must have no shame, I'm

sure. [_Aside._

_Mrs. Seal._ Oh, cousin Cimberton! cousin Cimberton! how abstracted,

how refined is your sense of things! But, indeed, it is too true there

is nothing so ordinary as to say, in the best governed families, my

master and lady have gone to bed; one does not know but it might have

been said of one's self. [_Hiding her face with her fan._

_Cim._ Lycurgus, madam, instituted otherwise; among the Lacedæmonians

the whole female world was pregnant, but none but the mothers

themselves knew by whom; their meetings were secret, and the amorous

congress always by stealth; and no such professed doings between the

sexes as are tolerated among us under the audacious word, marriage.

_Mrs. Seal._ Oh, had I lived in those days and been a matron of Sparta,

one might with less indecency have had ten children, according to

that modest institution, than one, under the confusion of our modern,

barefaced manner.

_Luc._ And yet, poor woman, she has gone through the whole ceremony,

and here I stand a melancholy proof of it. [_Aside._

_Mrs. Seal._ We will talk then of business. That girl walking about

the room there is to be your wife. She has, I confess, no ideas, no

sentiments, that speak her born of a thinking mother.

_Cimb._ I have observed her; her lively look, free air, and disengaged

countenance speak her very----

_Luc._ Very what?

_Cimb._ If you please, madam--to set her a little that way.

_Mrs. Seal._ Lucinda, say nothing to him, you are not a match for him;

when you are married, you may speak to such a husband when you're

spoken to. But I am disposing of you above yourself every way.

_Cimb._ Madam, you cannot but observe the inconveniences I expose

myself to, in hopes that your ladyship will be the consort of my better

part. As for the young woman, she is rather an impediment than a help

to a man of letters and speculation. Madam, there is no reflection, no

philosophy, can at all times subdue the sensitive life, but the animal

shall sometimes carry away the man. Ha! ay, the vermilion of her lips.

_Luc._ Pray, don't talk of me thus.

_Cimb._ The pretty enough--pant of her bosom.

_Luc._ Sir! madam, don't you hear him?

_Cimb._ Her forward chest.

_Luc._ Intolerable!

_Cimb._ High health.

_Luc._ The grave, easy impudence of him!

_Cimb._ Proud heart.

_Luc._ Stupid coxcomb!

_Cimb._ I say, madam, her impatience, while we are looking at her,

throws out all attractions--her arms--her neck--what a spring in her

step!

_Luc._ Don't you run me over thus, you strange unaccountable!

_Cimb._ What an elasticity in her veins and arteries!

_Luc._ I have no veins, no arteries.

_Mrs. Seal._ Oh, child! hear him, he talks finely; he's a scholar, he

knows what you have.

_Cimb._ The speaking invitation of her shape, the gathering of herself

up, and the indignation you see in the pretty little thing--Now, I am

considering her, on this occasion, but as one that is to be pregnant.

_Luc._ The familiar, learned, unseasonable puppy! [_Aside._

_Cimb._ And pregnant undoubtedly she will be yearly. I fear I shan't,

for many years, have discretion enough to give her one fallow season.

_Luc._ Monster! there's no bearing it. The hideous sot! there's no

enduring it, to be thus surveyed like a steed at sale.

_Cimb._ At sale! She's very illiterate--But she's very well limbed too;

turn her in; I see what she is. [_Exit_ LUCINDA, _in a rage._

_Mrs. Seal._ Go, you creature, I am ashamed of you.

_Cimb._ No harm done--you know, madam, the better sort of people, as I

observed to you, treat by their lawyers of weddings [_Adjusting himself

at the glass._]--and the woman in the bargain, like the mansion house

in the sale of the estate, is thrown in, and what that is, whether good

or bad, is not at all considered.

_Mrs. Seal._ I grant it; and therefore make no demand for her youth and

beauty, and every other accomplishment, as the common world think 'em,

because she is not polite.

_Cimb._ Madam, I know your exalted understanding, abstracted, as it is,

from vulgar prejudices, will not be offended, when I declare to you,

I marry to have an heir to my estate, and not to beget a colony, or

a plantation. This young woman's beauty and constitution will demand

provision for a tenth child at least.

_Mrs. Seal._ With all that wit and learning, how considerate! What an

economist! [_Aside._]--Sir, I cannot make her any other than she is;

or say she is much better than the other young women of this age, or

fit for much besides being a mother; but I have given directions for

the marriage settlements, and Sir Geoffry Cimberton's counsel is to

meet ours here, at this hour, concerning this joining in the deed,

which, when executed, makes you capable of settling what is due to

Lucinda's fortune. Herself, as I told you, I say nothing of.

_Cimb._ No, no, no, indeed, madam, it is not usual; and I must depend

upon my own reflection and philosophy not to overstock my family.

_Mrs. Seal._ I cannot help her, cousin Cimberton; but she is, for aught

I see, as well as the daughter of anybody else.

_Cimb._ That is very true, madam.

_Enter a_ Servant, _who whispers_ MRS. SEALAND.

_Mrs. Seal._ The lawyers are come, and now we are to hear what

they have resolved as to the point whether it's necessary that Sir

Geoffry should join in the settlement, as being what they call in the

remainder. But, good cousin, you must have patience with 'em. These

lawyers, I am told, are of a different kind; one is what they call a

chamber counsel, the other a pleader. The conveyancer is slow, from

an imperfection in his speech, and therefore shunned the bar, but

extremely passionate and impatient of contradiction. The other is as

warm as he; but has a tongue so voluble, and a head so conceited, he

will suffer nobody to speak but himself.

_Cimb._ You mean old Serjeant Target and Counsellor Bramble? I have

heard of 'em.

_Mrs. Seal._ The same. Show in the gentlemen. [_Exit_ Servant.

_Re-enter_ Servant, _introducing_ MYRTLE _and_ TOM _disguised as_

BRAMBLE _and_ TARGET.

_Mrs. Seal._ Gentlemen, this is the party concerned, Mr. Cimberton;

and I hope you have considered of the matter.

_Tar._ Yes, madam, we have agreed that it must be by

indent----dent----dent----dent----

_Bram._ Yes, madam, Mr. Serjeant and myself have agreed, as he is

pleased to inform you, that it must be an indenture tripartite,[132]

and tripartite let it be, for Sir Geoffry must needs be a party;

old Cimberton, in the year 1619, says, in that ancient roll in Mr.

Serjeant's hands, as recourse thereto being had, will more at large

appear----

_Tar._ Yes, and by the deeds in your hands, it appears that----

_Bram._ Mr. Serjeant, I beg of you to make no inferences upon what is

in our custody; but speak to the titles in your own deeds. I shall not

show that deed till my client is in town.

_Cimb._ You know best your own methods.

_Mrs. Seal._ The single question is, whether the entail is such that my

cousin, Sir Geoffry, is necessary in this affair?

_Bram._ Yes, as to the lordship of Tretriplet, but not as to the

messuage of Grimgribber.

_Tar._ I say that Gr--gr--that Gr--gr--Grimgribber, Grimgribber is

in us; that is to say the remainder thereof, as well as that of

Tr--tr--Triplet.

_Bram._ You go upon the deed of Sir Ralph, made in the middle of the

last century, precedent to that in which old Cimberton made over the

remainder, and made it pass to the heirs general, by which your client

comes in; and I question whether the remainder even of Tretriplet is

in him--But we are willing to waive that, and give him a valuable

consideration. But we shall not purchase what is in us for ever, as

Grimgribber is, at the rate, as we guard against the contingent of Mr.

Cimberton having no son--Then we know Sir Geoffry is the first of the

collateral male line in this family--yet----

_Tar._ Sir, Gr----gr----ber is----

_Bram._ I apprehend you very well, and your argument might be of force,

and we would be inclined to hear that in all its parts--But, sir, I see

very plainly what you are going into. I tell you, it is as probable a

contingent that Sir Geoffry may die before Mr. Cimberton, as that he

may outlive him.

_Tar._ Sir, we are not ripe for that yet, but I must say----

_Bram._ Sir, I allow you the whole extent of that argument; but that

will go no farther than as to the claimants under old Cimberton. I am

of opinion that, according to the instruction of Sir Ralph, he could

not dock the entail, and then create a new estate for the heirs general.

_Tar._ Sir, I have not patience to be told that, when

Gr----gr----ber----

_Bram._ I will allow it you, Mr. Serjeant; but there must be the word

heirs for ever, to make such an estate as you pretend.

_Cimb._ I must be impartial, though you are counsel for my side of

the question. Were it not that you are so good as to allow him what

he has not said, I should think it very hard you should answer him

without hearing him--But, gentlemen, I believe you have both considered

this matter, and are firm in your different opinions. 'Twere better,

therefore, you proceeded according to the particular sense of each of

you, and gave your thoughts distinctly in writing. And do you see,

sirs, pray let me have a copy of what you say in English.

_Bram._ Why, what is all we have been saying? In English! Oh! but I

forget myself, you're a wit. But, however, to please you, sir, you

shall have it, in as plain terms as the law will admit of.

_Cimb._ But I would have it, sir, without delay.

_Bram._ That, sir, the law will not admit of. The Courts are sitting at

Westminster, and I am this moment obliged to be at every one of them,

and 'twould be wrong if I should not be in the hall to attend one of

'em at least; the rest would take it ill else. Therefore, I must leave

what I have said to Mr. Serjeant's consideration, and I will digest his

arguments on my part, and you shall hear from me again, sir. [_Exit_

BRAMBLE.

_Tar._ Agreed, agreed.

_Cimb._ Mr. Bramble is very quick; he parted a little abruptly.

_Tar._ He could not bear my argument; I pinched him to the quick about

that Gr----gr----ber.

_Mrs. Seal._ I saw that, for he durst not so much as hear you. I shall

send to you, Mr. Serjeant, as soon as Sir Geoffry comes to town, and

then I hope all may be adjusted.

_Tar._ I shall be at my chambers, at my usual hours. [_Exit._

_Cimb._ Madam, if you please, I'll now attend you to the tea table,

where I shall hear from your ladyship reason and good sense, after all

this law and gibberish.

_Mrs. Seal._ 'Tis a wonderful thing, sir, that men of professions

do not study to talk the substance of what they have to say in the

language of the rest of the world. Sure, they'd find their account in

it.

_Cimb._ They might, perhaps, madam, with people of your good sense; but

with the generality 'twould never do. The vulgar would have no respect

for truth and knowledge, if they were exposed to naked view.

Truth is too simple, of all art bereaved:

Since the world will--why let it be deceived.

[_Exeunt._

ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE I.--BEVIL, JUN.'S _Lodgings._[133]

BEVIL, JUN., _with a letter in his hand; followed by_ TOM.

_Tom._ Upon my life, sir, I know nothing of the matter. I never opened

my lips to Mr. Myrtle about anything of your honour's letter to Madam

Lucinda.

_Bev._ What's the fool in such a fright for? I don't suppose you did.

What I would know is, whether Mr. Myrtle shows any suspicion, or asked

you any questions, to lead you to say casually that you had carried any

such letter for me this morning.

_Tom._ Why, sir, if he did ask me any questions, how could I help it?

_Bev._ I don't say you could, oaf! I am not questioning you, but him.

What did he say to you?

_Tom._ Why, sir, when I came to his chambers, to be dressed for the

lawyer's part your honour was pleased to put me upon, he asked me if

I had been at Mr. Sealand's this morning? So I told him, sir, I often

went thither--because, sir, if I had not said that he might have

thought there was something more in my going now than at another time.

_Bev._ Very well!--The fellow's caution, I find, has given him this

jealousy. [_Aside._]--Did he ask you no other questions?

_Tom._ Yes, sir; now I remember, as we came away in the hackney coach

from Mr. Sealand's, Tom, says he, as I came in to your master this

morning, he bade you go for an answer to a letter he had sent. Pray did

you bring him any? says he. Ah! says I, sir, your honour is pleased to

joke with me; you have a mind to know whether I can keep a secret or no?

_Bev._ And so, by showing him you could, you told him you had one?

_Tom._ Sir----[_Confused._

_Bev._ What mean actions does jealousy make a man stoop to! How poorly

has he used art with a servant to make him betray his master!--Well!

and when did he give you this letter for me?

_Tom._ Sir, he writ it before he pulled off his lawyer's gown, at his

own chambers.

_Bev._ Very well; and what did he say when you brought him my answer to

it?

_Tom._ He looked a little out of humour, sir, and said it was very well.

_Bev._ I knew he would be grave upon't; wait without.

_Tom._ Hum! 'gad, I don't like this; I am afraid we are all in the

wrong box here. [_Exit_ TOM.

_Bev._ I put on a serenity while my fellow was present; but I have

never been more thoroughly disturbed. This hot man! to write me a

challenge, on supposed artificial dealing, when I professed myself his

friend! I can live contented without glory; but I cannot suffer shame.

What's to be done? But first let me consider Lucinda's letter again.

[_Reads._

"SIR,

"I hope it is consistent with the laws a woman ought to impose upon

herself, to acknowledge that your manner of declining a treaty of

marriage in our family, and desiring the refusal may come from me, has

something more engaging in it than the courtship of him who, I fear,

will fall to my lot, except your friend exerts himself for our common

safety and happiness. I have reasons for desiring Mr. Myrtle may not

know of this letter till hereafter, and am your most obliged humble

servant,

"LUCINDA SEALAND."

Well, but the postscript--[_Reads._

"I won't, upon second thoughts, hide anything from you. But my reason

for concealing this is, that Mr. Myrtle has a jealousy in his temper

which gives me some terrors; but my esteem for him inclines me to hope

that only an ill effect which sometimes accompanies a tender love, and

what may be cured by a careful and unblameable conduct."

Thus has this lady made me her friend and confident, and put herself,

in a kind, under my protection. I cannot tell him immediately the

purport of her letter, except I could cure him of the violent and

untractable passion of jealousy, and so serve him, and her, by

disobeying her, in the article of secrecy, more than I should by

complying with her directions.--But then this duelling, which custom

has imposed upon every man who would live with reputation and honour in

the world--how must I preserve myself from imputations there? He'll,

forsooth, call it or think it fear, if I explain without fighting.--But

his letter--I'll read it again--

"SIR,

"You have used me basely in corresponding and carrying on a treaty

where you told me you were indifferent. I have changed my sword since

I saw you; which advertisement I thought proper to send you against

the next meeting between you and the injured

"CHARLES MYRTLE."

_Enter_ TOM.

_Tom._ Mr. Myrtle, sir. Would your honour please to see him?

_Bev._ Why, you stupid creature! Let Mr. Myrtle wait at my lodgings!

Show him up. [_Exit_ TOM.] Well! I am resolved upon my carriage to him.

He is in love, and in every circumstance of life a little distrustful,

which I must allow for--but here he is.

_Enter_ TOM, _introducing_ MYRTLE.

Sir, I am extremely obliged to you for this honour.--[_To_ TOM.] But,

sir, you, with your very discerning face, leave the room. [_Exit_

TOM.]--Well, Mr. Myrtle, your commands with me?

_Myrt._ The time, the place, our long acquaintance, and many other

circumstances which affect me on this occasion, oblige me, without

farther ceremony or conference, to desire you would not only, as you

already have, acknowledge the receipt of my letter, but also comply

with the request in it. I must have farther notice taken of my message

than these half lines--"I have yours," "I shall be at home."

_Bev._ Sir, I own I have received a letter from you in a very unusual

style; but as I design everything in this matter shall be your own

action, your own seeking, I shall understand nothing but what you are

pleased to confirm face to face, and I have already forgot the contents

of your epistle.

_Myrt._ This cool manner is very agreeable to the abuse you have

already made of my simplicity and frankness; and I see your moderation

tends to your own advantage and not mine--to your own safety, not

consideration of your friend.

_Bev._ My own safety, Mr. Myrtle?

_Myrt._ Your own safety, Mr. Bevil.

_Bev._ Look you, Mr. Myrtle, there's no disguising that I understand

what you would be at; but, sir, you know I have often dared to

disapprove of the decisions a tyrant custom has introduced, to the

breach of all laws, both divine and human.

_Myrt._ Mr. Bevil, Mr. Bevil, it would be a good first principle,

in those who have so tender a conscience that way, to have as much

abhorrence of doing injuries, as----

_Bev._ As what?

_Myrt._ As fear of answering for 'em.

_Bev._ As fear of answering for 'em! But that apprehension is just or

blameable according to the object of that fear. I have often told you,

in confidence of heart, I abhorred the daring to offend the Author

of life, and rushing into his presence--I say, by the very same act,

to commit the crime against Him, and immediately to urge on to His

tribunal.

_Myrt._ Mr. Bevil, I must tell you, this coolness, this gravity, this

show of conscience, shall never cheat me of my mistress. You have,

indeed, the best excuse for life, the hopes of possessing Lucinda. But

consider, sir, I have as much reason to be weary of it, if I am to lose

her; and my first attempt to recover her shall be to let her see the

dauntless man who is to be her guardian and protector.

_Bev._ Sir, show me but the least glimpse of argument, that I am

authorised, by my own hand, to vindicate any lawless insult of this

nature, and I will show thee--to chastise thee hardly deserves the name

of courage--slight, inconsiderate man!--There is, Mr. Myrtle, no such

terror in quick anger; and you shall, you know not why, be cool, as you

have, you know not why, been warm.

_Myrt._ Is the woman one loves so little an occasion of anger? You

perhaps, who know not what it is to love, who have your ready, your

commodious, your foreign trinket, for your loose hours; and from your

fortune, your specious outward carriage, and other lucky circumstances,

as easy a way to the possession of a woman of honour; you know nothing

of what it is to be alarmed, to be distracted with anxiety and terror

of losing more than life. Your marriage, happy man, goes on like common

business, and in the interim you have your rambling captive, your

Indian princess, for your soft moments of dalliance, your convenient,

your ready Indiana.

_Bev._ You have touched me beyond the patience of a man; and I'm

excusable, in the guard of innocence (or from the infirmity of human

nature, which can bear no more), to accept your invitation, and observe

your letter--Sir, I'll attend you.

_Enter_ TOM.

_Tom._ Did you call, sir? I thought you did; I heard you speak aloud.

_Bev._ Yes; go call a coach.

_Tom._ Sir--master--Mr. Myrtle--friends--gentlemen--what d'ye mean? I

am but a servant, or----

_Bev._ Call a coach. [_Exit_ TOM.]--[_A long pause, walking sullenly by

each other._]--[_Aside._] Shall I (though provoked to the uttermost)

recover myself at the entrance of a third person, and that my servant

too, and not have respect enough to all I have ever been receiving

from infancy, the obligation to the best of fathers, to an unhappy

virgin too, whose life depends on mine? [_Shutting the door._]--[_To_

MYRTLE.] I have, thank Heaven, had time to recollect myself, and shall

not, for fear of what such a rash man as you think of me, keep longer

unexplained the false appearances under which your infirmity of temper

makes you suffer; when perhaps too much regard to a false point of

honour makes me prolong that suffering.

_Myrt._ I am sure Mr. Bevil cannot doubt but I had rather have

satisfaction from his innocence than his sword.

_Bev._ Why, then, would you ask it first that way?

_Myrt._ Consider, you kept your temper yourself no longer than till I

spoke to the disadvantage of her you loved.

_Bev._ True; but let me tell you, I have saved you from the most

exquisite distress, even though you had succeeded in the dispute. I

know you so well, that I am sure to have found this letter about a

man you had killed would have been worse than death to yourself--Read

it.--[_Aside._] When he is thoroughly mortified, and shame has got the

better of jealousy, when he has seen himself throughly, he will deserve

to be assisted towards obtaining Lucinda.

_Myrt._ With what a superiority has he turned the injury on me, as the

aggressor? I begin to fear I have been too far transported--A treaty

in our family! is not that saying too much? I shall relapse.--But I

find (on the postscript) something like jealousy. With what face can I

see my benefactor, my advocate, whom I have treated like a betrayer?

[_Aside._]--Oh! Bevil, with what words shall I----

_Bev._ There needs none; to convince is much more than to conquer.

_Myrt._ But can you----

_Bev._ You have o'erpaid the inquietude you gave me, in the change I

see in you towards me. Alas! what machines are we! thy face is altered

to that of another man; to that of my companion, my friend.

_Myrt._ That I could be such a precipitant wretch!

_Bev._ Pray, no more.

_Myrt._ Let me reflect how many friends have died, by the hands of

friends, for want of temper; and you must give me leave to say again,

and again, how much I am beholden to that superior spirit you have

subdued me with. What had become of one of us, or perhaps both, had you

been as weak as I was, and as incapable of reason?

_Bev._ I congratulate to us both the escape from ourselves, and hope

the memory of it will make us dearer friends than ever.

_Myrt._ Dear Bevil, your friendly conduct has convinced me that there

is nothing manly but what is conducted by reason, and agreeable to the

practice of virtue and justice. And yet how many have been sacrificed

to that idol, the unreasonable opinion of men! Nay, they are so

ridiculous in it, that they often use their swords against each other

with dissembled anger and real fear.

Betrayed by honour, and compelled by shame,

They hazard being, to preserve a name:

Nor dare inquire into the dread mistake,

Till plunged in sad eternity they wake. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.--_St. James's Park._

_Enter_ SIR JOHN BEVIL _and_ MR. SEALAND.

_Sir J. Bev._ Give me leave, however, Mr. Sealand, as we are upon a

treaty for uniting our families, to mention only the business of an

ancient house. Genealogy and descent are to be of some consideration in

an affair of this sort.

_Mr. Seal._ Genealogy and descent! Sir, there has been in our family a

very large one. There was Galfrid the father of Edward, the father of

Ptolomey, the father of Crassus, the father of Earl Richard, the father

of Henry the Marquis, the father of Duke John.

_Sir J. Bev._ What, do you rave, Mr. Sealand? all these great names in

your family?

_Mr. Seal._ These? yes, sir. I have heard my father name 'em all, and

more.

_Sir J. Bev._ Ay, sir? and did he say they were all in your family?

_Mr. Seal._ Yes, sir, he kept 'em all. He was the greatest cocker[134]

in England. He said Duke John won him many battles, and never lost one.

_Sir J. Bev._ Oh, sir, your servant! you are laughing at my laying any

stress upon descent; but I must tell you, sir, I never knew anyone but

he that wanted that advantage turn it into ridicule.

_Mr. Seal._ And I never knew any one who had many better advantages put

that into his account.--But, Sir John, value yourself as you please

upon your ancient house, I am to talk freely of everything you are

pleased to put into your bill of rates on this occasion; yet, sir, I

have made no objections to your son's family. 'Tis his morals that I

doubt.

_Sir J. Bev._ Sir, I can't help saying, that what might injure a

citizen's credit may be no stain to a gentleman's honour.

_Mr. Seal._ Sir John, the honour of a gentleman is liable to be tainted

by as small a matter as the credit of a trader. We are talking of a

marriage, and in such a case, the father of a young woman will not

think it an addition to the honour or credit of her lover that he is a

keeper----

_Sir J. Bev._ Mr. Sealand, don't take upon you to spoil my son's

marriage with any woman else.

_Mr. Seal._ Sir John, let him apply to any woman else, and have as many

mistresses as he pleases.

_Sir J. Bev._ My son, sir, is a discreet and sober gentleman.

_Mr. Seal._ Sir, I never saw a man that wenched soberly and discreetly,

that ever left it off; the decency observed in the practice hides,

even from the sinner, the iniquity of it. They pursue it, not that

their appetites hurry 'em away, but, I warrant you, because 'tis their

opinion they may do it.

_Sir J. Bev._ Were what you suspect a truth--do you design to keep your

daughter a virgin till you find a man unblemished that way?

_Mr. Seal._ Sir, as much a cit as you take me for, I know the town and

the world; and give me leave to say, that we merchants are a species

of gentry that have grown into the world this last century, and are

as honourable, and almost as useful, as you landed folks, that have

always thought yourselves so much above us; for your trading, forsooth,

is extended no farther than a load of hay or a fat ox. You are

pleasant people, indeed, because you are generally bred up to be lazy;

therefore, I warrant you, industry is dishonourable.

_Sir J. Bev._ Be not offended, sir; let us go back to our point.

_Mr. Seal._ Oh! not at all offended; but I don't love to leave any

part of the account unclosed. Look you, Sir John, comparisons are

odious, and more particularly so on occasions of this kind, when we

are projecting races that are to be made out of both sides of the

comparisons.

_Sir J. Bev._ But, my son, sir, is, in the eye of the world, a

gentleman of merit.

_Mr. Seal._ I own to you, I think him so.--But, Sir John, I am a man

exercised and experienced in chances and disasters. I lost, in my

earlier years, a very fine wife, and with her a poor little infant.

This makes me, perhaps, over cautious to preserve the second bounty of

providence to me, and be as careful as I can of this child. You'll

pardon me, my poor girl, sir, is as valuable to me as your boasted son

to you.

_Sir. J. Bev._ Why, that's one very good reason, Mr. Sealand, why I

wish my son had her.

_Mr. Seal._ There is nothing but this strange lady here, this

_incognita_, that can be objected to him. Here and there a man falls in

love with an artful creature, and gives up all the motives of life to

that one passion.

_Sir J. Bev._ A man of my son's understanding cannot be supposed to be

one of them.

_Mr. Seal._ Very wise men have been so enslaved; and, when a man

marries with one of them upon his hands, whether moved from the demand

of the world or slighter reasons, such a husband soils with his wife

for a month perhaps--then good be w'ye, madam, the show's over--Ah!

John Dryden points out such a husband to a hair, where he says,--

"And while abroad so prodigal the dolt is,

Poor spouse at home as ragged as a colt is."

Now, in plain terms, sir, I shall not care to have my poor girl turned

a-grazing, and that must be the case when----

_Sir J. Bev._ But pray consider, sir, my son----

_Mr. Seal._ Look you, sir, I'll make the matter short. This unknown

lady, as I told you, is all the objection I have to him; but, one way

or other, he is, or has been, certainly engaged to her. I am therefore

resolved, this very afternoon, to visit her. Now from her behaviour, or

appearance, I shall soon be let into what I may fear or hope for.

_Sir J. Bev._ Sir, I am very confident there can be nothing inquired

into relating to my son, that will not, upon being understood, turn to

his advantage.

_Mr. Seal._ I hope that as sincerely as you believe it.--Sir John

Bevil, when I am satisfied, in this great point, if your son's conduct

answers the character you give him, I shall wish your alliance more

than that of any gentleman in Great Britain; and so your servant.

[_Exit._

_Sir J. Bev._ He is gone in a way but barely civil; but his great

wealth, and the merit of his only child, the heiress of it, are not to

be lost for a little peevishness.

_Enter_ HUMPHRY.

Oh! Humphry, you are come in a seasonable minute. I want to talk to

thee, and to tell thee that my head and heart are on the rack about my

son.

_Humph._ Sir, you may trust his discretion; I am sure you may.

_Sir J. Bev._ Why, I do believe I may, and yet I'm in a thousand

fears when I lay this vast wealth before me; when I consider his

prepossessions, either generous to a folly, in an honourable love, or

abandoned, past redemption, in a vicious one; and, from the one or the

other, his insensibility to the fairest prospect towards doubling our

estate: a father, who knows how useful wealth is, and how necessary,

even to those who despise it--I say a father, Humphry, a father cannot

bear it.

_Humph._ Be not transported, sir; you will grow incapable of taking any

resolution in your perplexity.

_Sir J. Bev._ Yet, as angry as I am with him, I would not have him

surprised in anything. This mercantile rough man may go grossly into

the examination of this matter, and talk to the gentlewoman so as to----

_Humph._ No, I hope, not in an abrupt manner.

_Sir J. Bev._ No, I hope not! Why, dost thou know anything of her, or

of him, or of anything of it, or all of it?

_Humph._ My dear master, I know so much that I told him this very day

you had reason to be secretly out of humour about her.

_Sir J. Bev._ Did you go so far? Well, what said he to that?

_Humph._ His words were, looking upon me steadfastly: "Humphry," says

he, "that woman is a woman of honour."

_Sir J. Bev._ How! Do you think he is married to her, or designs to

marry her?

_Humph._ I can say nothing to the latter; but he says he can marry no

one without your consent while you are living.

_Sir J. Bev._ If he said so much, I know he scorns to break his word

with me.

_Humph._ I am sure of that.

_Sir J. Bev._ You are sure of that--well! that's some comfort. Then I

have nothing to do but to see the bottom of this matter during this

present ruffle--Oh, Humphry----

_Humph._ You are not ill, I hope, sir.

_Sir J. Bev._ Yes, a man is very ill that's in a very ill-humour. To

be a father is to be in care for one whom you oftener disoblige than

please by that very care--Oh! that sons could know the duty to a father

before they themselves are fathers--But, perhaps, you'll say now that I

am one of the happiest fathers in the world; but, I assure you, that of

the very happiest is not a condition to be envied.

_Humph._ Sir, your pain arises, not from the thing itself, but your

particular sense of it. You are overfond, nay, give me leave to say,

you are unjustly apprehensive from your fondness. My master Bevil never

disobliged you, and he will, I know he will, do everything you ought to

expect.

_Sir J. Bev._ He won't take all this money with this girl--For ought I

know, he will, forsooth, have so much moderation as to think he ought

not to force his liking for any consideration.

_Humph._ He is to marry her, not you; he is to live with her, not you,

sir.

_Sir J. Bev._ I know not what to think. But, I know, nothing can be

more miserable than to be in this doubt--Follow me; I must come to some

resolution. [_Exeunt._

SCENE III.--BEVIL, JUN.'S _Lodgings._

_Enter_ TOM _and_ PHILLIS.

_Tom._ Well, madam, if you must speak with Mr. Myrtle, you shall; he is

now with my master in the library.

_Phil._ But you must leave me alone with him, for he can't make me a

present, nor I so handsomely take anything from him before you; it

would not be decent.

_Tom._ It will be very decent, indeed, for me to retire, and leave my

mistress with another man.

_Phil._ He is a gentleman, and will treat one properly.

_Tom._ I believe so; but, however, I won't be far off, and therefore

will venture to trust you. I'll call him to you. [_Exit_ TOM.

_Phil._ What a deal of pother and sputter here is between my mistress

and Mr. Myrtle from mere punctilio! I could, any hour of the day, get

her to her lover, and would do it--but she, forsooth, will allow no

plot to get him; but, if he can come to her, I know she would be glad

of it. I must, therefore, do her an acceptable violence, and surprise

her into his arms. I am sure I go by the best rule imaginable. If she

were my maid, I should think her the best servant in the world for

doing so by me.

_Enter_ MYRTLE _and_ TOM.

Oh sir! You and Mr. Bevil are fine gentlemen to let a lady remain under

such difficulties as my poor mistress, and no attempt to set her at

liberty, or release her from the danger of being instantly married to

Cimberton.

_Myrt._ Tom has been telling----But what is to be done?

_Phil._ What is to be done--when a man can't come at his mistress! Why,

can't you fire our house, or the next house to us, to make us run out,

and you take us?

_Myrt._ How, Mrs. Phillis?

_Phil._ Ay; let me see that rogue deny to fire a house, make a riot, or

any other little thing, when there were no other way to come at me.

_Tom._ I am obliged to you, madam.

_Phil._ Why, don't we hear every day of people's hanging themselves for

love, and won't they venture the hazard of being hanged for love? Oh!

were I a man----

_Myrt._ What manly thing would you have me undertake, according to your

ladyship's notion of a man?

_Phil._ Only be at once what, one time or other, you may be, and wish

to be, or must be.

_Myrt._ Dear girl, talk plainly to me, and consider I, in my condition,

can't be in very good humour--you say, to be at once what I must be.

_Phil._ Ay, ay; I mean no more than to be an old man; I saw you do

it very well at the masquerade. In a word, old Sir Geoffry Cimberton

is every hour expected in town, to join in the deeds and settlements

for marrying Mr. Cimberton. He is half blind, half lame, half deaf,

half dumb; though, as to his passions and desires, he is as warm and

ridiculous as when in the heat of youth.

_Tom._ Come to the business, and don't keep the gentleman in suspense

for the pleasure of being courted, as you serve me.

_Phil._ I saw you at the masquerade act such a one to perfection. Go,

and put on that very habit, and come to our house as Sir Geoffry.

There is not one there but myself knows his person; I was born in

the parish where he is Lord of the Manor. I have seen him often and

often at church in the country. Do not hesitate, but come hither; they

will think you bring a certain security against Mr. Myrtle, and you

bring Mr. Myrtle. Leave the rest to me; I leave this with you, and

expect--They don't, I told you, know you; they think you out of town,

which you had as good be for ever, if you lose this opportunity--I must

be gone; I know I am wanted at home.

_Myrt._ My dear Phillis! [_Catches and kisses her, and gives her money._

_Phil._ O fie! my kisses are not my own; you have committed violence;

but I'll carry 'em to the right owner. [TOM _kisses her._]--Come, see

me downstairs [_To_ TOM.], and leave the lover to think of his last

game for the prize. [_Exeunt_ TOM _and_ PHILLIS.

_Myrt._ I think I will instantly attempt this wild expedient. The

extravagance of it will make me less suspected, and it will give me

opportunity to assert my own right to Lucinda, without whom I cannot

live. But I am so mortified at this conduct of mine towards poor Bevil.

He must think meanly of me--I know not how to reassume myself, and be

in spirit enough for such an adventure as this; yet I must attempt it,

if it be only to be near Lucinda under her present perplexities; and

sure----

The next delight to transport, with the fair,

Is to relieve her in her hours of care. [_Exit._

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.--SEALAND'S _House._

_Enter_ PHILLIS, _with lights, before_ MYRTLE, _disguised like old_

SIR GEOFFRY; _supported by_ MRS. SEALAND, LUCINDA, _and_ CIMBERTON.

_Mrs. Seal._ Now I have seen you thus far, Sir Geoffry, will you excuse

me a moment while I give my necessary orders for your accommodation?

[_Exit_ MRS. SEAL.

_Myrt._ I have not seen you, cousin Cimberton, since you were ten years

old; and as it is incumbent on you to keep up our name and family,

I shall, upon very reasonable terms, join with you in a settlement

to that purpose. Though I must tell you, cousin, this is the first

merchant that has married into our house.

_Luc._ Deuce on 'em! am I a merchant because my father is? [_Aside._

_Myrt._ But is he directly a trader at this time?

_Cimb._ There's no hiding the disgrace, sir; he trades to all parts of

the world.

_Myrt._ We never had one of our family before who descended from

persons that did anything.

_Cimb._ Sir, since it is a girl that they have, I am, for the honour

of my family, willing to take it in again, and to sink her into our

name, and no harm done.

_Myrt._ 'Tis prudently and generously resolved--Is this the young thing?

_Cimb._ Yes, sir.

_Phil._ Good madam, don't be out of humour, but let them run to the

utmost of their extravagance.--Hear them out. [_To_ LUC.

_Myrt._ Can't I see her nearer? My eyes are but weak.

_Phil._ Beside, I am sure the uncle has something worth your notice.

I'll take care to get off the young one, and leave you to observe what

may be wrought out of the old one for your good. [_To_ LUC. _Exit._

_Cimb._ Madam, this old gentleman, your great uncle, desires to be

introduced to you, and to see you nearer!--Approach, sir.

_Myrt._ By your leave, young lady. [_Puts on spectacles._]--Cousin

Cimberton! She has exactly that sort of neck and bosom for which my

sister Gertrude was so much admired in the year sixty-one, before the

French dresses first discovered anything in women below the chin.

_Luc._ [_Aside._] What a very odd situation am I in! though I cannot

but be diverted at the extravagance of their humours, equally

unsuitable to their age--Chin, quotha--I don't believe my passionate

lover there knows whether I have one or not. Ha! ha!

_Myrt._ Madam, I would not willingly offend, but I have a better glass.

[_Pulls out a large one._

_Enter_ PHILLIS.

_Phil._ [_To_ CIMBERTON.] Sir, my lady desires to show the apartment to

you that she intends for Sir Geoffry.

_Cimb._ Well, sir! by that time you will have sufficiently gazed and

sunned yourself in the beauties of my spouse there.--I will wait on you

again. [_Exit_ CIMB. _and_ PHIL.

_Myrt._ Were it not, madam, that I might be troublesome, there is

something of importance, though we are alone, which I would say more

safe from being heard.

_Luc._ There is something in this old fellow, methinks, that raises my

curiosity. [_Aside._

_Myrt._ To be free, madam, I as heartily contemn this kinsman of mine

as you do, and am sorry to see so much beauty and merit devoted by your

parents to so insensible a possessor.

_Luc._ Surprising!--I hope, then, sir, you will not contribute to the

wrong you are so generous as to pity, whatever may be the interest of

your family.

_Myrt._ This hand of mine shall never be employed to sign anything

against your good and happiness.

_Luc._ I am sorry, sir, it is not in my power to make you proper

acknowledgments; but there is a gentleman in the world whose gratitude

will, I am sure, be worthy of the favour.

_Myrt._ All the thanks I desire, madam, are in your power to give.

_Luc._ Name them and command them.

_Myrt._ Only, madam, that the first time you are alone with your lover,

you will, with open arms, receive him.

_Luc._ As willingly as his heart could wish it.

_Myrt._ Thus, then, he claims your promise. O Lucinda!

_Luc._ Oh! a cheat! a cheat! a cheat!

_Myrt._ Hush! 'tis I, 'tis I, your lover, Myrtle himself, madam.

_Luc._ O bless me! what a rashness and folly to surprise me so--But

hush--my mother.

_Enter_ MRS. SEALAND, CIMBERTON, _and_ PHILLIS.

_Mrs. Seal._ How now! what's the matter?

_Luc._ O madam! as soon as you left the room my uncle fell into a

sudden fit, and--and--so I cried out for help to support him and

conduct him to his chamber.

_Mrs. Seal._ That was kindly done! Alas! sir, how do you find yourself?

_Myrt._ Never was taken in so odd a way in my life--pray lead me! Oh! I

was talking here--(pray carry me)--to my cousin Cimberton's young lady.

_Mrs. Seal._ [_Aside._] My cousin Cimberton's young lady! How zealous

he is, even in his extremity, for the match! A right Cimberton.

[CIMBERTON _and_ LUCINDA _lead him, as one in pain._

_Cimb._ Pox! Uncle, you will pull my ear off.

_Luc._ Pray, uncle! you will squeeze me to death.

_Mrs. Seal._ No matter, no matter--he knows not what he does.--Come,

sir, shall I help you out?

_Myrt._ By no means! I'll trouble nobody but my young cousins here.

[_They lead him off._

_Phil._ But pray, madam, does your ladyship intend that Mr. Cimberton

shall really marry my young mistress at last? I don't think he likes

her.

_Mrs. Seal._ That's not material! Men of his speculation are above

desires--but be as it may. Now I have given old Sir Geoffry the trouble

of coming up to sign and seal, with what countenance can I be off?

_Phil._ As well as with twenty others, madam. It is the glory and

honour of a great fortune to live in continual treaties, and still to

break off: it looks great, madam.

_Mrs. Seal._ True, Phillis--yet to return our blood again into the

Cimbertons is an honour not to be rejected--But were not you saying

that Sir John Bevil's creature, Humphry, has been with Mr. Sealand?

_Phil._ Yes, madam; I overheard them agree that Mr. Sealand should go

himself and visit this unknown lady that Mr. Bevil is so great with;

and if he found nothing there to fright him, that Mr. Bevil should

still marry my young mistress.

_Mrs. Seal._ How! nay, then, he shall find she is my daughter as well

as his. I'll follow him this instant, and take the whole family along

with me. The disputed power of disposing of my own daughter shall be

at an end this very night. I'll live no longer in anxiety for a little

hussy that hurts my appearance wherever I carry her: and for whose sake

I seem to be at all regarded, and that in the best of my days.

_Phil._ Indeed, madam, if she were married, your ladyship might very

well be taken for Mr. Sealand's daughter.

_Mrs. Seal._ Nay, when the chit has not been with me, I have heard the

men say as much. I'll no longer cut off the greatest pleasure of a

woman's life (the shining in assemblies) by her forward anticipation

of the respect that's due to her superior. She shall down to

Cimberton-Hall--she shall--she shall.

_Phil._ I hope, madam, I shall stay with your ladyship.

_Mrs. Seal._ Thou shalt, Phillis, and I'll place thee then more about

me--But order chairs immediately; I'll be gone this minute. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.--_Charing Cross._

_Enter_ MR. SEALAND _and_ HUMPHRY.

_Mr. Seal._ I am very glad, Mr. Humphry, that you agree with me that it

is for our common good I should look thoroughly into this matter.

_Humph._ I am, indeed, of that opinion; for there is no artifice,

nothing concealed, in our family, which ought in justice to be known. I

need not desire you, sir, to treat the lady with care and respect.

_Mr. Seal._ Master Humphry, I shall not be rude, though I design to be

a little abrupt, and come into the matter at once, to see how she will

bear upon a surprise.

_Humph._ That's the door, sir; I wish you success.--[_While_ HUMPHRY

_speaks,_ SEALAND _consults his table book._]--I am less concerned what

happens there, because I hear Mr. Myrtle is well lodged as old Sir

Geoffry; so I am willing to let this gentleman employ himself here,

to give them time at home; for I am sure 'tis necessary for the quiet

of our family Lucinda were disposed of out of it, since Mr. Bevil's

inclination is so much otherwise engaged. [_Exit._

_Mr. Seal._ I think this is the door. [_Knocks._] I'll carry this

matter with an air of authority, to inquire, though I make an errand,

to begin discourse. [_Knocks again, and enter a foot-boy._] So young

man! is your lady within?

_Boy._ Alack, sir! I am but a country boy--I dant know whether she is

or noa; but an you'll stay a bit, I'll goa and ask the gentlewoman

that's with her.

_Mr. Seal._ Why, sirrah, though you are a country boy, you can see,

can't you? You know whether she is at home, when you see her, don't you?

_Boy._ Nay, nay, I'm not such a country lad neither, master, to think

she's at home because I see her. I have been in town but a month, and I

lost one place already for believing my own eyes.

_Mr. Seal._ Why, sirrah! have you learnt to lie already?

_Boy._ Ah, master! things that are lies in the country are not lies at

London. I begin to know my business a little better than so--But an you

please to walk in, I'll call a gentlewoman to you that can tell you for

certain--she can make bold to ask my lady herself.

_Mr. Seal._ Oh! then, she is within, I find, though you dare not say so.

_Boy._ Nay, nay! that's neither here nor there: what's matter whether

she is within or no, if she has not a mind to see anybody?

_Mr. Seal._ I can't tell, sirrah, whether you are arch or simple; but,

however, get me a direct answer, and here's a shilling for you.

_Boy._ Will you please to walk in; I'll see what I can do for you.

_Mr. Seal._ I see you will be fit for your business in time, child; but

I expect to meet with nothing but extraordinaries in such a house.

_Boy._ Such a house! Sir, you han't seen it yet. Pray walk in.

_Mr. Seal._ Sir, I'll wait upon you. [_Exeunt._

SCENE III.--INDIANA'S _House._

_Enter_ ISABELLA.

_Isab._ What anxiety do I feel for this poor creature! What will be

the end of her? Such a languishing unreserved passion for a man that

at last must certainly leave or ruin her! and perhaps both! Then the

aggravation of the distress is, that she does not believe he will--not

but, I must own, if they are both what they would seem, they are made

for one another, as much as Adam and Eve were, for there is no other of

their kind but themselves.

_Enter_ BOY.

So, Daniel! what news with you?

_Boy._ Madam, there's a gentleman below would speak with my lady.

_Isab._ Sirrah! don't you know Mr. Bevil yet?

_Boy._ Madam, 'tis not the gentleman who comes every day, and asks for

you, and won't go in till he knows whether you are with her or no.

_Isab._ Ha! that's a particular I did not know before. Well! be it who

it will, let him come up to me.

[_Exit_ BOY; _and re-enters with_ MR. SEALAND; ISABELLA _looks amazed._

_Mr. Seal._ Madam, I can't blame your being a little surprised to see a

perfect stranger make a visit, and----

_Isab._ I am indeed surprised!--I see he does not know me. [_Aside._

_Mr. Seal._ You are very prettily lodged here, madam; in troth you seem

to have everything in plenty--A thousand a year, I warrant you, upon

this pretty nest of rooms, and the dainty one within them. [_Aside, and

looking about._

_Isab._ [_Apart._] Twenty years, it seems, have less effect in the

alteration of a man of thirty than of a girl of fourteen--he's almost

still the same; but alas! I find, by other men, as well as himself, I

am not what I was. As soon as he spoke, I was convinced 'twas he; how

shall I contain my surprise and satisfaction! He must not know me yet.

_Mr. Seal._ Madam, I hope I don't give you any disturbance; but

there is a young lady here with whom I have a particular business to

discourse, and I hope she will admit me to that favour.

_Isab._ Why, sir, have you had any notice concerning her? I wonder who

could give it you.

_Mr. Seal._ That, madam, is fit only to be communicated to herself.

_Isab._ Well, sir! you shall see her.--[_Aside._] I find he knows

nothing yet, nor shall from me. I am resolved I will observe this

interlude, this sport of nature and of fortune.--You shall see her

presently, sir; for now I am as a mother, and will trust her with you.

[_Exit._

_Mr. Seal._ As a mother! right; that's the old phrase for one of those

commode ladies, who lend out beauty for hire to young gentlemen that

have pressing occasions. But here comes the precious lady herself. In

troth a very sightly woman----

_Enter_ INDIANA.

_Ind._ I am told, sir, you have some affair that requires your speaking

with me.

_Mr. Seal._ Yes, madam, there came to my hands a bill drawn by Mr.

Bevil, which is payable to-morrow; and he, in the intercourse of

business, sent it to me, who have cash of his, and desired me to send a

servant with it; but I have made bold to bring you the money myself.

_Ind._ Sir! was that necessary?

_Mr. Seal._ No, madam; but to be free with you, the fame of your

beauty, and the regard which Mr. Bevil is a little too well known to

have for you, excited my curiosity.

_Ind._ Too well known to have for me! Your sober appearance, sir, which

my friend described, made me expect no rudeness, or absurdity, at

least----Who's there?--Sir, if you pay the money to a servant, 'twill

be as well.

_Mr. Seal._ Pray, madam, be not offended; I came hither on an innocent,

nay, a virtuous design; and, if you will have patience to hear me, it

may be as useful to you, as you are in a friendship with Mr. Bevil, as

to my only daughter, whom I was this day disposing of.

_Ind._ You make me hope, sir, I have mistaken you. I am composed again;

be free, say on--[_Aside._]--what I am afraid to hear.

_Mr. Seal._ I feared, indeed, an unwarranted passion here, but I did

not think it was in abuse of so worthy an object, so accomplished a

lady as your sense and mien bespeak; but the youth of our age care not

what merit and virtue they bring to shame, so they gratify----

_Ind._ Sir, you are going into very great errors; but as you are

pleased to say you see something in me that has changed at least the

colour of your suspicions, so has your appearance altered mine, and

made me earnestly attentive to what has any way concerned you to

inquire into my affairs and character.

_Mr. Seal._ How sensibly, with what an air she talks!

_Ind._ Good sir, be seated, and tell me tenderly; keep all your

suspicions concerning me alive, that you may in a proper and prepared

way acquaint me why the care of your daughter obliges a person of your

seeming worth and fortune to be thus inquisitive about a wretched,

helpless, friendless----[_Weeping._] But I beg your pardon; though I am

an orphan, your child is not; and your concern for her, it seems, has

brought you hither.--I'll be composed; pray go on, sir.

_Mr. Seal._ How could Mr. Bevil be such a monster, to injure such a

woman?

_Ind._ No, sir, you wrong him; he has not injured me. My support is

from his bounty.

_Mr. Seal._ Bounty! when gluttons give high prices for delicates, they

are prodigious bountiful.

_Ind._ Still, still you will persist in that error. But my own fears

tell me all. You are the gentleman, I suppose, for whose happy daughter

he is designed a husband by his good father, and he has, perhaps,

consented to the overture. He was here this morning, dressed beyond his

usual plainness--nay, most sumptuously--and he is to be, perhaps, this

night a bridegroom.

_Mr. Seal._ I own he was intended such; but, madam, on your account,

I have determined to defer my daughter's marriage till I am satisfied

from your own mouth of what nature are the obligations you are under to

him.

_Ind._ His actions, sir; his eyes have only made me think he designed

to make me the partner of his heart. The goodness and gentleness of his

demeanour made me misinterpret all. 'Twas my own hope, my own passion,

that deluded me; he never made one amorous advance to me. His large

heart, and bestowing hand, have only helped the miserable; nor know I

why, but from his mere delight in virtue, that I have been his care and

the object on which to indulge and please himself with pouring favours.

_Mr. Seal._ Madam, I know not why it is, but I, as well as you, am

methinks afraid of entering into the matter I came about; but 'tis the

same thing as if we had talked never so distinctly----he ne'er shall

have a daughter of mine.

_Ind._ If you say this from what you think of me, you wrong yourself

and him. Let not me, miserable though I may be, do injury to my

benefactor. No, sir, my treatment ought rather to reconcile you to his

virtues. If to bestow without a prospect of return; if to delight in

supporting what might, perhaps, be thought an object of desire, with

no other view than to be her guard against those who would not be so

disinterested; if these actions, sir, can in a careful parent's eye

commend him to a daughter, give yours, sir, give her to my honest,

generous Bevil. What have I to do but sigh, and weep, and rave, run

wild, a lunatic in chains, or, hid in darkness, mutter in distracted

starts and broken accents my strange, strange story!

_Mr. Seal._ Take comfort, madam.

_Ind._ All my comfort must be to expostulate in madness, to relieve

with frenzy my despair, and shrieking to demand of fate why--why was I

born to such variety of sorrows.

_Mr. Seal._ If I have been the least occasion----

_Ind._ No, 'twas Heaven's high will I should be such; to be plundered

in my cradle! tossed on the seas! and even there an infant captive! to

lose my mother, hear but of my father! to be adopted! lose my adopter!

then plunged again into worse calamities!

_Mr. Seal._ An infant captive!

_Ind._ Yet then, to find the most charming of mankind, once more to

set me free from what I thought the last distress, to load me with his

services, his bounties, and his favours; to support my very life in a

way that stole, at the same time, my very soul itself from me.

_Mr. Seal._ And has young Bevil been this worthy man?

_Ind._ Yet then, again, this very man to take another! without leaving

me the right, the pretence of easing my fond heart with tears! For,

oh! I can't reproach him, though the same hand that raised me to this

height now throws me down the precipice.

_Mr. Seal._ Dear lady! Oh, yet one moment's patience: my heart grows

full with your affliction.--But yet there's something in your story

that----

_Ind._ My portion here is bitterness and sorrow.

_Mr. Seal._ Do not think so. Pray answer me: does Bevil know your name

and family?

_Ind._ Alas! too well! Oh, could I be any other thing than what I

am----I'll tear away all traces of my former self, my little ornaments,

the remains of my first state, the hints of what I ought to have

been----

[_In her disorder she throws away a bracelet, which_ SEALAND _takes

up, and looks earnestly on it._

_Mr. Seal._ Ha! what's this? My eyes are not deceived! It is, it is

the same! the very bracelet which I bequeathed to my wife at our last

mournful parting.

_Ind._ What said you, sir? Your wife? Whither does my fancy carry me?

What means this unfelt motion at my heart? And yet, again my fortune

but deludes me; for if I err not, sir, your name is Sealand; but my

lost father's name was----

_Mr. Seal._ Danvers; was it not?

_Ind._ What new amazement? That is, indeed, my family.

_Mr. Seal._ Know, then, when my misfortunes drove me to the Indies, for

reasons too tedious now to mention, I changed my name of Danvers into

Sealand.

_Enter_ ISABELLA.

_Isab._ If yet there wants an explanation of your wonder, examine well

this face (yours, sir, I well remember), gaze on and read in me your

sister, Isabella.

_Mr. Seal._ My sister!

_Isab._ But here's a claim more tender yet----your Indiana, sir, your

long-lost daughter.

_Mr. Seal._ Oh, my child! my child!

_Ind._ All gracious Heaven! is it possible! do I embrace my father?

_Mr. Seal._ And I do hold thee.--These passions are too strong for

utterance. Rise, rise, my child, and give my tears their way.--Oh, my

sister! [_Embracing her._

_Isab._ Now, dearest niece, my groundless fears, my painful cares no

more shall vex thee. If I have wronged thy noble lover with too much

suspicion, my just concern for thee, I hope, will plead my pardon.

_Mr. Seal._ Oh! make him, then, the full amends, and be yourself the

messenger of joy. Fly this instant! tell him all these wondrous turns

of Providence in his favour! Tell him I have now a daughter to bestow

which he no longer will decline; that this day he still shall be a

bridegroom; nor shall a fortune, the merit which his father seeks,

be wanting. Tell him the reward of all his virtues waits on his

acceptance. [_Exit_ ISAB.] My dearest Indiana! [_Turns and embraces

her._

_Ind._ Have I, then, at last, a father's sanction on my love? His

bounteous hand to give, and make my heart a present worthy of Bevil's

generosity?

_Mr. Seal._ Oh, my child! how are our sorrows past o'erpaid by such a

meeting! Though I have lost so many years of soft paternal dalliance

with thee, yet, in one day to find thee thus, and thus bestow thee, in

such perfect happiness, is ample, ample reparation!--And yet, again,

the merit of thy lover----

_Ind._ Oh! had I spirits left to tell you of his actions! how strongly

filial duty has suppressed his love; and how concealment still has

doubled all his obligations; the pride, the joy of his alliance, sir,

would warm your heart, as he has conquered mine.

_Mr. Seal._ How laudable is love when born of virtue! I burn to embrace

him----

_Ind._ See, sir, my aunt already has succeeded, and brought him to your

wishes.

_Enter_ ISABELLA, _with_ SIR JOHN BEVIL, BEVIL, JUN., MRS. SEALAND,

CIMBERTON, MYRTLE, _and_ LUCINDA.

_Sir J. Bev._ [_Entering._] Where, where's this scene of wonder? Mr.

Sealand, I congratulate, on this occasion, our mutual happiness----Your

good sister, sir, has, with the story of your daughter's fortune,

filled us with surprise and joy. Now all exceptions are removed; my son

has now avowed his love, and turned all former jealousies and doubts to

approbation; and, I am told, your goodness has consented to reward him.

_Mr. Seal._ If, sir, a fortune equal to his father's hopes can make

this object worthy his acceptance.

_Bev. Jun._ I hear your mention, sir, of fortune, with pleasure only

as it may prove the means to reconcile the best of fathers to my love.

Let him be provident, but let me be happy.--My ever-destined, my

acknowledged wife! [_Embracing_ INDIANA.

_Ind._ Wife! Oh, my ever loved! My lord! my master!

_Sir J. Bev._ I congratulate myself, as well as you, that I had a son

who could, under such disadvantages, discover your great merit.

_Mr. Seal._ Oh, Sir John! how vain, how weak is human prudence! What

care, what foresight, what imagination could contrive such blest

events, to make our children happy, as Providence in one short hour has

laid before us?

_Cimb._ [_To_ MRS. SEALAND.] I am afraid, madam, Mr. Sealand is a

little too busy for our affair. If you please, we'll take another

opportunity.

_Mrs. Seal._ Let us have patience, sir.

_Cimb._ But we make Sir Geoffry wait, madam.

_Myrt._ O, sir, I am not in haste.

[_During this,_ BEV., JUN., _presents_ LUCINDA _to_ INDIANA.

_Mr. Seal._ But here! here's our general benefactor! Excellent young

man, that could be at once a lover to her beauty and a parent to her

virtue.

_Bev. Jun._ If you think that an obligation, sir, give me leave to

overpay myself, in the only instance that can now add to my felicity,

by begging you to bestow this lady on Mr. Myrtle.

_Mr. Seal._ She is his without reserve; I beg he may be sent for.

Mr. Cimberton, notwithstanding you never had my consent, yet there

is, since I last saw you, another objection to your marriage with my

daughter.

_Cimb._ I hope, sir, your lady has concealed nothing from me?

_Mr. Seal._ Troth, sir, nothing but what was concealed from

myself--another daughter, who has an undoubted title to half my estate.

_Cimb._ How, Mr. Sealand? Why, then, if half Mrs. Lucinda's fortune is

gone, you can't say that any of my estate is settled upon her. I was

in treaty for the whole; but if that is not to be come at, to be sure

there can be no bargain. Sir, I have nothing to do but take my leave

of your good lady, my cousin, and beg pardon for the trouble I have

given this old gentleman.

_Myrt._ That you have, Mr. Cimberton, with all my heart. [_Discovers

himself._

_All._ Mr. Myrtle!

_Myrt._ And I beg pardon of the whole company that I assumed the

person of Sir Geoffry, only to be present at the danger of this lady

being disposed of, and in her utmost exigence to assert my right to

her; which, if her parents will ratify, as they once favoured my

pretensions, no abatement of fortune shall lessen her value to me.

_Luc._ Generous man!

_Mr. Seal._ If, sir, you can overlook the injury of being in treaty

with one who has meanly left her, as you have generously asserted your

right in her, she is yours.

_Luc._ Mr. Myrtle, though you have ever had my heart, yet now I find I

love you more, because I bring you less.

_Myrt._ We have much more than we want; and I am glad any event has

contributed to the discovery of our real inclinations to each other.

_Mrs. Seal._ Well! however, I'm glad the girl's disposed of, anyway.

[_Aside._

_Bev._ Myrtle, no longer rivals now, but brothers!

_Myrt._ Dear Bevil, you are born to triumph over me! but now our

competition ceases; I rejoice in the pre-eminence of your virtue, and

your alliance adds charms to Lucinda.

_Sir J. Bev._ Now, ladies and gentlemen, you have set the world a fair

example: your happiness is owing to your constancy and merit; and the

several difficulties you have struggled with evidently show--

Whate'er the generous mind itself denies,

The secret care of Providence supplies.

[_Exeunt._

EPILOGUE.

By MR. WELSTED.

_Intended to be spoken by_ INDIANA.

Our author, whom entreaties cannot move,

Spite of the dear coquetry that you love,

Swears he'll not frustrate (so he plainly means)

By a loose Epilogue, his decent scenes.

Is it not, sirs, hard fate I meet to-day,

To keep me rigid still beyond the play?

And yet I'm saved a world of pains that way.

I now can look, I now can move at ease,

Nor need I torture these poor limbs to please;

Nor with the hand or foot attempt surprise,

Nor wrest my features, nor fatigue my eyes:

Bless me! what freakish gambols have I played!

What motions tried, and wanton looks betrayed!

Out of pure kindness all! to over-rule

The threatened hiss, and screen some scribbling fool.

With more respect I'm entertained to-night:

Our author thinks I can with ease delight.

My artless looks while modest graces arm,

He says, I need but to appear, and charm.

A wife so formed, by these examples bred,

Pours joy and gladness round the marriage bed;

Soft source of comfort, kind relief from care,

And 'tis her least perfection to be fair.

The nymph with Indiana's worth who vies,

A nation will behold with Bevil's eyes.

_THE SCHOOL OF ACTION._

(A FRAGMENT).

_The School of Action_ was the play which Steele was endeavouring to

finish in 1723-5. The fragment which we have would have required a

great deal of revising before it could have been put upon the stage.

The MS., from which the piece was printed by Nichols, is in the British

Museum (Add. MS., 5145c). It is not in Steele's writing, and the first

few leaves are now wanting. I have restored the original reading in

several instances in which Nichols made unnecessary alterations. There

are several memoranda on the subject among the Blenheim MSS. Here is

one of them:--

"Minutes for the play itself.--First Act. The beginning as I have it

at Home in y^e Scheme between Brainwell and Lightfoot; after y^t y^e

calling over y^e House w^{th} the actors, and y^e severall purposes y^t

y^e Playhouse might be usefull for signified.--Act 2^{d.} The Country

family wait as in an Inn at the playhouse; all that can be done by

the playhouse to terrifie y^e Attorney and his Wife, and all that can

delight y^e young Lady by Theatricall Powers is exposed and explained.

A Critick upon various Actions.--Act 3^{d.} The Electra of Sophocles,

where Mrs. Porter is to be the Queen, and y^e Tragedy of Sophocles to

be made y^e Moddle is thoroughly set forth in a way attempted to be

truly sublime.--Act 4^{th.} The Country Family, knowing of the Murder

done there, resolved to bear Witness of it and prosecute it according

to Law." And again, "Let Booth be Orestes, with all the prepossession

and love of His Mother with the necessity upon Him of killing Her,

and resolving upon it all of a sudden from passion to passion in an

Hurry,--yet commanding all his Resentments to execute His design.--His

regard for His sister and her urging Him." The following are other

rough notes:--"Jenky to be instructed to be a ghost and torment His

Brother--not to be y^t of Hamlet. Johnson to be the false Brother--Mrs.

Willis, His Wife, urging to give up.--They miss the young lady for

2^{d.} Act--but don't value so y^t Her fortune is safe in His hands....

Let Pinsars ramble from place to place, and getting clear of the Play

House--where he meets Evill Constable (?) and His Mirmidons.--Then

Buntho's Ghost and all the other incidents possible--appears still

in y^e House, and gives up to Severn, &c." And again:--"Introduce a

Woman, Drunk, to be acted by Cibber, to talk at beginning Lewdly in

a Mask, y^e rest in Whisper. Let Pinsars be assisted by an Army of

y^e Playhouse to fight his way out; he and his man Ralph and his Wife

Striking all in earnest, assisted by the Constable.... Let Him Threaten

to demolish the Whore of Babylon--Speak of the Dragon and all the Cant

of the Presbyterian Zeal against Plays, &c., but fight.... For the

Prologue take notice of this play as a _Posthumous Work_ according to

Dr. Partridge's freinds. Spider and Dotterell's Quality: Beasts made

before men--Therefore the Dotterells must give way, for they were made

before Spiders were in being, and not made before they were men."

The following notes evidently refer to another piece:--"To take the

play y^t Lyes in loose parts in my Scrutoire and lay it together for

the Stage: To ridicule y^e whole Mechanick of Dr. Faustus, &c., and

all things of that kind for y^e Theatre--make persons to play tricks,

break necks, and the like.... There is no true nobility but in the

practise of Vertue and right reason, where there is nothing can be

little.... Make him go to his certain Ruin for want of knowledge in

a Circumstance he might know if he had looked into a letter w^{ch}

contains a secret Contrived against him, but he cannot pry into because

it comes into his Hands unwarrantably: make this y^e great Incident of

his distress.... To ridicule our Slavery to Italian Musick, to have an

ode of Anacreon set in Greek performed. To observe upon y^e absurdity

of making distresses and mirth for y^e Vulgar out of y^e Accidents y^t

befall the body, as in the play of _The Chances_: The old Woman in her

Colick pains toothless and defective through age is exposed as a Jest."

_DRAMATIS PERSONÆ._

Mr. SEVERN, a barrister, lover of Miss DOLLY.

Mr. HUMBER, his friend.

Mr. PINCERS, an old wealthy country Attorney, guardian to DOLLY.

RALPH, his Man.

Mr. DOTTERELL,

Mr. SPIDER,

Comedians.

Mr. GWILLYN,

BUSKIN,

TRAGEDIAN,

GENERAL,

Candidates for the Stage.

Mrs. PINCERS.

Miss DOLLY, Ward to PINCERS.

Mrs. UMBRAGE, an Actress.

Mrs. FENNELL.

Her DAUGHTER, a Candidate for the Stage.

Barber, Constable, Waiter, Servants, Rabble, &c.

_THE SCHOOL OF ACTION._

ACT THE FIRST.

_Enter_ MR. SEVERN _and_ MR. HUMBER.

_Sev._ The world is much more easily imposed upon, than you studious

and modest men imagine.

_Hum._ Dear Severn, if such superficial qualifications as you talk of

will accomplish gentlemen and ladies, I own to you, hard has been our

fate, in having suffered pains and penalties (fit only for malefactors)

in great schools, and been immured in college the best years of life,

to acquire learning and attain to sciences that are all useless when we

come into the world.

_Sev._ Pardon me, dear Humber, I did not say useless; I only argue that

you had better, to make your fortune, have ordinary qualifications,

such as a good mien, common understanding, and an easy address, than

great faculties and talents under the oppression of bashfulness,

rusticity, or----

_Hum._ Or knowledge.

_Sev._ It shall be or knowledge if you please--if you mean knowledge

kept to a man's self, or in a man's keeping, that is afraid or ashamed

to exert it.

_Hum._ Well, be it as you propose; go on.

_Sev._ I say, then, your taste for books and fine writing, your

judgment in the faculties of the soul, my town education, and skill in

the airs, motions, graces, and abilities of the body, will enable us to

carry on this our design of supporting a new playhouse, and keeping a

School of Action.

_Hum._ Well, if we break--I can go down again to my fellowship at

Oxford, and laugh and be laughed at among a parcel of worthy and

ingenious men, whom I will entertain with my adventures; and I think

the undertaking cannot but introduce at least matter of humour and

mirth: if it does not advance our fortunes, it will heighten our

conversation.--But to your School of Action.

_Sev._ As all that reside in inns of court and universities, though

they do not enter into any of the learned professions, are yet better

accomplished for any other ways of life by having the same education

with those who go into them; so will all who come to our School of

Action be better qualified in their own characters, by being instructed

among players, who are taught to become any part which shall be imposed

upon them.

_Hum._ Thou art a rare sanguine fellow to think this will do. But I

have observed confidence in a man's self that he shall perform a thing,

helps him forward better than any other quality about him--Well, hang

it, in order to make this experiment, I will be as enterprising and

confident as you.

_Sev._ Let me, then, observe one thing, for fear of your relapsing

into your academic shyness; that you must beware of standing as if you

were a thinking statue, a case for a spirit to reflect in, and not

a mind and body acting together. You improve the soul only in your

colleges--you neglect the body.

_Hum._ Thou art in the right: I have studied eloquence till I am dumb.

_Sev._ I am glad you see your want and infirmity. If you will speak,

I know you will talk well. I know when you are unreservedly familiar

you talk very well, as you did t'other night concerning the principles

of motion and rest. Suppose, as you are resolved to talk, you would

resolve also to move, and practise a little local motion. Give me

leave to show you how you perform it. Go to the other side of the

stage. [_He walks thither._] Thus you walked--thus your shoulders--thus

your legs--thus your breast--thus your hips.--Pray adventure back

again--thus--

_Hum._ Pish! I am a little hurt, and grow peevish with this mimicry;

though I believe you are right enough.

_Sev._ Well, I only show you: it is not necessary you should, as to the

present purpose, be jaunty; you are to mind more important matters. You

are censor, observe, upon the sense and spirit of what is said; leave

the manner of doing it to me, the prompter.

_Hum._ But, as you are picking up people from all quarters, are the old

gentleman and his lady, the young girl, and the maid and man, who came

hither last night, all to be players? and why are they accommodated

here in the tiring-room, as if it were an ordinary lodging?

_Sev._ You shall know all in due time and order. Ho!--Harry!--Who waits

there? [_Enters a_ SERVANT.] Is the whole house come?

_Serv._ They are all here, sir, except the thunderer and the

candle-snuffer; they say it is a mistake, and that they are never

required to come to rehearsal.

_Sev._ Tell them they shall forfeit; the thunderer shall pay two

groats; they--they shall be fined a day's pay. [_Exit_ SERVANT.]--My

dear friend, while the company is assembling in the several

apartments, I will explain further: You are to know that old master

Pincers is a rich northern attorney, who understands the law much

better as it is the business of it to punish offenders, than as it is

to protect the innocent. The young girl is a ward left under his care,

and has a very considerable estate in that country. He has brought her

up to town to settle her.

_Hum._ In the playhouse?

_Sev._ Pray, hear. In the playhouse? no. Of all things in nature,

stage-plays (as he calls them) are his aversion. But they are no less

Miss Dolly's delight. As I had my education, that is to say, ate and

drank, conversed and lay some years every night at Gray's Inn, I made

a notable pleader before our bench of justices in Cumberland, and grew

very intimate with Mr. Pincers. He took such a fancy to my promising

parts--for, you must know, I pretended to be a rogue to gain his

good-will--that, with a hint of five hundred pounds reward for my share

in the transaction, he communicated to me a design of disposing of this

young lady by way of sale.

_Hum._ Good--and thought you a proper broker to find out a husband, or

rather a purchaser.

_Sev._ Right. "Mr. Severn," said he, "you know there is nothing more

common than to observe that orphans are a prey, by reason of their

great wealth, and marry unhappily."

_Hum._ And therefore----

_Sev._ And therefore he would have a receipt for _all_ her fortune,

for delivering _half_ of it to the man who should marry her--"which,"

said he, "shall be no fraud to the gentleman; for he shall settle only

an equivalent for ten thousand pounds, which is the moiety. By this

means," continued my conscientious friend, "I shall observe how he

behaves to this poor girl; and can, if he deserves it, leave the other

moiety to them by my will."

_Hum._ And what did you say to this hopeful project?

_Sev._ I fell in with it, and promised to find him a right young fellow

for his purpose.

_Hum._ Did you so, sir? [_As going._]

_Sev._ Now you grow a mere scholar again.

_Hum._ An honest gentleman is a mere scholar where a sharper is a

wit--I will leave your accursed town to-night.

_Sev._ I will convince you that there is nothing mean or dishonourable

on my part; but a lucky incident I should be stupid not to take hold of.

_Hum._ Say it; but your prologue is so long, you seem to know that the

plot of your play is not easily to be defended.

_Sev._ You cannot say that till you know it. I agreed with him to find

a young gentleman suitable to her, who shall bring as good an estate as

she shall, and settle all upon her and the children of the marriage.

_Hum._ Well--who is the gentleman whom you have thought of to do this?

On whom will you bestow the poor innocent girl who has never injured

you?

_Sev._ Why, I have been thinking that over and over; and it is so hard

to look into another's breast, that one may, after all appearances, be

mistaken; and, therefore, I have resolved upon the only man who I was

sure was honest--even my own proper self.

_Hum._ You are most conscientiously impartial and disinterested.

_Sev._ I think myself conscientious, though neither impartial nor

disinterested. I consider that he would certainly sell her elsewhere on

his own terms, without regard to her happiness. In my hands she will

have her estate her own, with the incumbrance only of a man who loves

her, and whom I believe she loves, and who may increase that estate for

her. Consider, he would do what he designed, whether I would or not.

_Hum._ I consider you will do what you design, whether I will or not.

Nay, further, I cannot but own the circumstances much alleviate the

guilt on your part. Nay, if you fairly get the girl's good-will, I will

allow your attempt not only excusable, but praiseworthy.

_Sev._ There spoke my good genius.--In the country, as much as he

trusted me in the secret of cheating her, he never let me see her

alone, or without witnesses; his wife, the maid, or man, or all of

them, were constantly present. But, as she is a great lover and reader

of plays, and of a great deal of wit and humour, we could speak one

language and look another, above their knowledge or observation. I sent

for him to town in order to marry her, insisting on my five hundred

pounds; for he would not trust me, did he not know my price. I have

lodged all here, whence they shall never go out till dear miss implores

it of me, or has justice done her by me or somebody to her liking.

_Hum._ There you justify all the art you can use for yourself. And may

you win and wear her, since you plot her redemption though yourself

should not succeed!

_Sev._ Well, we have done talking; let us to action. My business is

to review my forces, and not neglect my main plot, but consider my

playhouse and my mistress at the same time; and, while I am preparing

the one, make love to the other.--Here, Jack, call all the actors--let

the whole house march.--Tragedy drums and trumpets, fifes, kettledrums

and clarions shall wake my country lodgers, fright my old parchment,

and charm my little northern pilgrim--my dear refugee--I will

understand her no other. Beat, sound, and play. Make all people be in

their posts round the stage, and answer in all parts to the stage.--All

shall be done that can be to make her pass her time pleasantly. She

shall always expect to see me, but not see me till I have abundant

convincing proofs that I am in her favour. Thus if I can save her,

and save her for myself, it will be an exquisite happiness; if not,

to save her from this rascal is but my duty. Oh! I should have told

you that when Miss Dolly came in, I conveyed a letter into her pocket,

intimating where she was, that she may be surprised at nothing; for I

love the dear thing so tenderly that I could not give her the shortest

uneasiness, to purchase the most lasting good or pleasure to myself.

[_Here begins the march._] Hist!

_Pin._ [_Within._] Ho! chamberlain, bring me my boots--where is the

chamberlain?--What is the noise?----

_Ralph_ [_Within._] The drums.

_Pin._ What is the matter?

_Ralph._ The train-bands, belike, master.

_Pin._ Ho! chamberlain!

_Hum._ While the rest of the country family are thus deceived, Dolly is

let into the whole matter, and won't be surprised at anything. If she

humours the deceit it is a good symptom on your side.--This must be a

fruitful circumstance of mirth.

_Sev._ Nymphs, shepherds, ghosts, angels, and demons, shall tease the

old rascal; and all the while Miss Dolly see and hear nothing but

according to the notice I have given her.

_Hum._ While you are thus busied about your people, and managing your

design, which I have not much taste for (I want that mercury about me),

I will go about the house and view the accommodations--they say it is

the most convenient one in the world.

_Sev._ Sir, take your humour; I will pursue mine, and call you when

the circumstance is above my reach. [_Exit_ HUMBER.] Well, march by;

let the kings take place of all the people, next them bishops, then

judges--no, we had as good not to discompose their dresses. [_Among the

march of the actors he observes_ WILL DOTTERELL.] Ho! Mr. Dotterell,

Mr. Dotterell.

_Dot._ Sir! Your most humble servant, good Mr. Severn. What, have you a

part for me in your new play? It was you that first thought of making

an actor of me, and I have gained some reputation; and, harkee, you

have made a deal of me, I can tell you.

_Sev._ Ay, ay, I know thou art a town favourite--thy name is not

spoken of but it raises mirth. Let us see, what parts have you acted?

You have acted all manner of things as well as persons. You began, I

think, a flower-pot, in _Dioclesian_[135]; then you have performed

another ingenious part, been a chair, I think, at another opera; you

have represented all the appetites--as I take it, you do hunger best,

you are a fine fellow at a cold chicken--Then you have been all sorts

of trades, but you shine most in the tailor in _Epsom Wells_[136], you

beat your wife most successfully.

_Dot._ It was thought I laid her on as well as another, for you may

remember she was a bitter one, and she provoked me some six or seven

drubs beyond what the poet writ for her.

_Sev._ Well, look you, Will, I design greater things for you than any

poet of them all; why, you shall act a ghost in the ensuing play.

_Dot._ A ghost of me! No, it can never be.

_Sev._ Yes, yes, you oaf, you shall be a country ghost. You shall come

to the country gentleman who lay here last night in the figure of his

deceased brother, a fat justice of the peace, who left all his money

in his hands--and he cheats him. Why, I don't know but you may be the

luckiest ghost that ever appeared. Who knows but the old rascal may

repent and pay you? If he does I'm sure you'll take it.

_Dot._ Nay, nay, there's no doubt of that. What has the poor money

done? I will take it, as you say.

_Sev._ Look you there: when you have done this part you are a most

accomplished player, you have gone through all the degrees of action.

You came out of the parsley-bed, as they say to the children; you have

been everything----

_Dot._ A ghost! I shall never be sober enough. What if it be a country

ghost--yet every man is serious after his death. I shall certainly

laugh, and discover all.

_Sev._ Well, bid him they call Dicky come to me.

_Dot._ Dicky, Dicky, come to me; come, Dicky, come to Mr. Severn. I am

not a ghost yet; you need not be afraid.

_Enter_ SPIDER.

_Sev._ Mr. Spider, I have a part for you; but I am afraid you have too

good an air, too much dignity in your person, to do it well.

_Spi._ Oh, I warrant you they never put me to act anything in tragedy,

though my genius and temper is altogether for great and sublime things.

_Sev._ No doubt on't, Mr. Spider, but you must be content at present to

do me a courtesy, and still keep in comedy; for you are to be a tapster.

_Spi._ What! when Mr. Dotterell (as I apprehend) is to be a ghost, am I

to be but a tapster?

_Sev._ Why, you are to be a tapster to the inn in which he is to be a

ghost, so that he's in a manner in your keeping. All the ghosts in inns

are kept there by the tapster or chamberlain; now you are to be both in

this inn that I imagine.

_Spi._ Oh! oh! I begin to conceive you. I am to be a live tapster, and

Mr. Dotterell is to be the ghost of a dead man that died in the inn and

left a power of money behind, and so haunts the house because his own

cousin had not--I understand it very well--Look you, Mr. Dotterell,

it was I and my master contrived to kill this gentleman for the great

bag of money he brought into our house. Come, come, we'll go in and

consider how to act these parts, without giving Mr. Severn any more

trouble about it.

_Sev._ But there is another thing that, I fear, will go much against

you; and that is, you are to be excessively saucy.

_Spi._ No, I shall make no scruple of that if he proves an unmannerly

guest, I'll warrant you.--But, Mr. Dotterell, let us go and lay our

heads together.

_Sev._ Now, gentlemen, you are going out in your own persons, and no

man living can tell which of you should take place. Certainly, Mr.

Spider, you are somebody or other; and, Mr. Dotterell, so are you. Now

I would fain know which of you is to take place.

_Spi._ Pray, good Mr. Dotterell.

_Dot._ Nay, nay, Mr. Spider, I'll never be outdone in civility; you

must pardon me, indeed, sir.

_Spi._ Nay, sir.

_Dot._ Nay, sir.

_Spi._ Nay, sir.

_Dot._ Nay, nay, nay, sir, if you go to that. [_Turns aside._

_Spi._ Nay, but, good sir--excuse me, sir. [_Turning another way._

_Dot._ Oh, Mr. Spider, your servant for that, sir. [_Takes him up in

his arms._

_Spi._ Sir, you conquer me beyond expression; sir, you run away with me.

_Dot._ Indeed, sir, I must say you are a very easy gentleman; you are

carried away with the least civility, look you, sir; for----[_Carrying

him backwards and forwards._

_Spi._ Plague on't, what a misfortune it is to be a little fellow!

Though I have a soul as great as Hercules, this fellow can deal with me.

_Dot._ Oh, my dear little Dicky Spider! [_Exit, kicking him in his

arms._

_Sev._ [_Solus_]. Here's a great piece of difficulty adjusted; but I

observe very few difficulties of ceremony of much greater moment than

this, and wish they were all to be so ended. Well, now have I the

hardest task in all my affair to pursue: To persuade a woman who is

young, pleasant, and agreeable, to act a part for me to another; to

make love for me, instead of receiving love made to her; and there is

no way of obtaining of 'em but by making love to them. They are used to

no other language, and understand no other.--Ho! who waits there?

_Enter_ WAITER.

_Waiter._ Sir; do you call, sir?

_Sev._ Pray, sir, call Mrs. Umbrage hither. If she be in the

green-room, tell her I beg to speak with her--I must form myself into

all the good humour I can to entertain her, or I shall never get her to

come into it.

_Enter_ MRS. UMBRAGE.

Oh, here she comes.--Well, madam, I have cast parts for you, and named

you to many, but never so very nice a one as I am to desire of you to

undertake at present. To overlook yourself and deliver the application

made to another which had been more rightly directed to yourself, is a

greatness of mind--is a candour, to be found only in Mrs. Umbrage.

_Umb._ Well, Mr. Severn, you have waved your cap sufficiently; you have

done homage and made your acknowledgments; pray proceed to the matter.

_Sev._ The northern young lady you have often heard me talk of, is in

town, and lay in this house last night.

_Umb._ That has been the conversation of the green-room.--But what do

you design in all this you are going to let me into?

_Sev._ I would be well with that young lady. Nay, I think I am so.

_Umb._ A man may often be mistaken in those points, as knowing as you

are.

_Sev._ I grant it, madam; I have a mind to know it more explicitly, and

have the most evident proofs of it; which I will not desire till I have

given her sufficient testimony of a disinterested zeal and service for

her.

_Umb._ That is, indeed, the noblest and the surest way to approach a

sensible spirit, as I have heard you describe hers to be. Pray let me

hear what argument you have for thinking she has a disposition towards

you; for you know we naturally are too apt to believe what we wish.

_Sev._ A good opinion is in a man's own power to create. I took care

to appear in the best manner where she was; to be always in great

good humour, and show a wonderful deference to her in all my actions;

which I constantly expressed by my eye only, as afraid of notice and

observation. She had her eyes as attentive to mine, and she never lost

the least expression that I made to her, but turned away her eyes when

mine grew too familiar.--But give me leave to tell you one particular

occasion wherein I plainly think she declared herself to me.

_Umb._ That will be worth hearing indeed; I shall be glad to hear the

language of the eyes translated by the tongue. [_Smiling._

_Sev._ You are to know, madam, that there happened one day in the

north, a great Quaker's wedding at which she and I were present.

They went with the greatest gravity and decorum through the whole

circumstance of it. But at night she was invited, so was I, to see the

bride and bridegroom put to bed. Several of her maidens attended her;

several of their young men him. It is the nature of their superstition

to keep their passions bridled, restrained, and formally dissembled.

They have none of those flights, palpitations, gambols, and follies,

which divert the mind and break it from its main object.

_Umb._ You are going into a fine story; but I must trust your

discretion.

_Sev._ Madam, you may. [_Bowing._] To be sure, the bridegroom is laid

by his bride; the company stands in the most profound silence, as

contemplating the objects before them; he a young man of twenty-five,

she a young woman of twenty; he wishing our absence; she fearing it.

The eyes of everyone of us spectators naturally searching the object

with which they could best be pleased in the same condition, my eyes

met Miss Pincers', in which there was such a sweet compliance, such a

revel invitation, immediately checked when observed and answered by

me, that I have ever since concluded that she had something more than

goodwill for me.

_Umb._ Well, if she has it, I shall be far from lessening it; but will,

as you seem to desire, accompany her, and improve it.

_Sev._ I form great hopes of success from that declaration; but as the

lady is mighty theatrically disposed, I beseech you to show her the

pleasure and beauties of the house.

_Umb._ All that is in my power; all that is not I must leave to you.

_Sev._ I will not doubt of success.

To gain a she, a sure she-friend provide;

For woman is to woman the best guide.

ACT THE SECOND.

PINCERS _and his_ WIFE _discovered with_ MISS DOLLY, RALPH, _and_

MARGERY.

_Pin._ Fie, Miss Dolly; do you say you heard no manner of noise when I

was knocking my heart out?

_Dolly._ None in the least. In the country they talked of the rattling

of coaches here in London. I heard nothing of it; I can hardly think I

am yet in the City.

_Mrs. Pin._ Why, Miss Dolly, you won't say so, sure! Did you hear no

drums nor trumpets?

_Dolly._ Not in the least.

_Mrs. Pin._ O gemini! Then, to be sure, the house is haunted, and

the man of the inn has killed some traveller, and hid him behind the

hangings, and we are all disturbed for it--'tis so to be sure.

_Ralph._ It is no otherwise. I wonder Counsellor Severn would bring

master to such an inn as this is, so I do.

_Pin._ Chamberlain! why, chamberlain!

_Enter_ SPIDER (_as_ Chamberlain).

_Spi._ Do you call, sir?

_Pin._ Do you call, sir? Ay, marry do I, sir. What has been doing in

the inn here, or in the streets, with trumpets and kettle-drums?

_Spi._ Trumpets and kettle-drums! Poor gentleman!

_Pin._ Poor gentleman! no, no poor gentleman.--I am afraid this house

is no better than it should be.

_Spi._ Has not your worship lain warm? The bed is as good a bed as any

in the house. A man of fifteen hundred a-year lay in it, and slept all

night. He came to town to be fluxed. He was very much a gentleman, and

owned he slept very well; and his bones ached but little in that easy

bed.

_Pin._ Rogue! put honest folks, that have been man and wife these

twenty years, into a p---- bed together!

_Mrs. Pin._ In a p---- bed, husband! Take the law of him.

_Pin._ Sirrah! has not Counsellor Severn been here this morning? Go,

sirrah, bring me some water and a towel; I'll go to the Counsellor's

chambers immediately. I'll trounce this house. [_Exit_ SPIDER.

_Dolly._ [_Aside._] I'll look over my letter again. [_Reads._] "Be

afraid of nothing; but know, that the disagreeable shapes Mr. Pincers

is entertained with are not to appear to you; and when you know this,

you may partake of that diversion of tormenting those who attempt

only to sell and betray you. What you see are persons and appearances

belonging to the several plays which are acted in this house."--Oh me!

how pure is all this!

_Re-enter_ SPIDER, _with a_ Barber.

_Spi._ Here is the water and towel, and here is a barber if you want

him. [_Exit._

_Pin._ Harkee, Mr. Barber; you look like an honest man, put on your

trimming cloths about me. I'll inquire of you what sort of people live

in this house--Ha! what's this here?

"To MR. PINCERS, Esq."

[_A letter has come down from the air with this direction._]

"Sir, repent of the ill you are contriving before it be too late. I

shall appear to you and your wife only. In hopes of justice, I remain,

"Your dead and buried brother,

"RALPH PINCERS."

_Enter_ SPIDER, _as_ Tapster.

_Spi._ Sir, do you call for nothing this morning? are not you dry, nor

your wife neither, ha, old dry-boots?

_Pin._ What does this mean? A letter come directed to me out of the

air--and my brother coming! Wife! Margery, do you see that letter? What

can it mean? Look you, sauce-box; good man, Tapster, I shall take a

course with you, sirrah, I shall.

_Spi._ You are a sneaking country bumpkin, sir.

_Enter_ DOTTERELL, _dressed like a Country Squire._

_Pin._ Bless us! there comes on my brother, in his old boots and grey

riding-coat. 'Tis he: I ha'n't the heart to speak to it.

_Dot._ [_Aside._] A country ghost! I shall laugh out. How frightened

the dog is! I'll warrant the rogue has a great sum of money of mine.

I'll make him give it me.--[_To_ PINCERS.] Repent, and don't cheat your

brother, and break your word with a man that is dead and buried.--I

shall laugh before the old put has refunded----[_Aside._

_Mrs. Pin._ There is the justice come to fetch us away with him--he's

come for Dolly's portion.--You know I was always for giving it all to

her since Nancy's death.

_Dot._ Give me my money--give me my money.

_Pin._ Oh! how I tremble! yet dare not speak to him. [_He comes

nearer._

_Dot._ Show my last will and testament. Give me my money.

_Pin._ I cannot speak to him, to tell him I'll do everything.

_Dot._ I will haunt thee, and tear thy wife from the fell----

_Mrs. Pin._ He presents the figure of the poor child we had to cheat

Dolly with! Oh, husband, he'll have me to punish thy sins! Oh, he

has me, now, now, husband! [_They both sink with the_ Barber _at a

trap-door._]

_Ralph._ "He presents the figure of the poor child we had to cheat

Dolly with!" How shall I get off this ground. [_Going away, fearfully._

_Marg._ Oh, Ralph! can you leave me? [_They meet trembling, as if they

found the place open._]

_Ralph._ Let us keep together, and not go underground in a strange

place.

_Marg._ Tell me, Ralph, whether there was anything between you and Nan?

_Ralph._ Ask no questions, ask no questions, good Margery. [_Exeunt._

_Dolly._ Whither shall I go, or where will this adventure end? Sure,

Mr. Severn will----

[_Four leaves of the MS. are here missing._]

* * * * *

_Umb._ The pretty good-natured absurdity! [_Aside._]--But, madam,

you forgot Lorenzo that you mentioned just now: you must see

his--[_Whistle. Scene changes._] there, madam, there's the place he

spoke those charming words in. But I forget, madam, you are a country

lady, and delight rather in airy prospects, tracts of land, and

beauteous lawns. [_Scene changes to the Park._

_Dolly._ Is this the Park? Pray, madam, where is the Birdcage Walk,

where lovers meet for intrigue?

_Umb._ You shall see it in due time; for I have a thousand other things

to tell you of. You must understand human life, and what passes in the

world, before you give yourself away.--But I must not inform you of it

abruptly and hastily.

_Dolly._ It will be charitable in you, madam, to do so.

_Umb._ I know you must be an admirer of poetry and good sense, without

which music is insipid, or at least but half-informed.

_Dolly._ I have wished myself at London a thousand times, to see

operas; but I would not have them sing nonsense.

_Umb._ Therefore, madam, I hope you'll like the poetry which Mr. Severn

has ordered for the stage in celebration of two faithful lovers: they

were persons in an humble condition, and no ways conspicuous but

by their passion for each other; indeed, just what they should be

conspicuous for----

AN INSCRIPTION AND EPITAPH IN A COUNTRY CHURCH.[137]

"Near this place lie the bodies of John Hewett and Sarah Drew, an

industrious young man and a virtuous maiden of this parish, who,

having been contracted in marriage, and being with many others at

harvest-work, were both in one instant killed by lightning on the last

day of July, 1718."

_Dolly._ Oh! but the poetry--what a sad thing 'twould have been if one

of them had been left alive--But pray let's see the poetry.

_Umb._ Have but patience and we will have convenience, miss, to sit

down and hear it. [_Scene changes to a bower._

"Think not with rigorous judgment seized,

A pair so faithful could expire;

Victims so pure Heaven saw well pleased,

And snatched them in celestial fire.

Live well, and fear not sudden fate;

When death calls virtue to the grave,

Alike 'tis justice soon or late,

Mercy alike to kill or save.

Virtue alike can hear the call,

And face the flash that melts the ball."

But let us take our places, and carry it gravely, suitable to your

fortune and merit. [_Here it is performed._

ACT THE THIRD.

_Enter_ SEVERN _and_ HUMBER.

_Sev._ I have often begged you to let me shift for myself, let my

character sink or swim. Every man who attempts any new thing must allow

mankind to talk of him as they please. I do not regard what the world

says, but what they should say.

_Hum._ It is very odd that we have never happy moments but at midnight,

so different are our tempers; and we are made to keep together from

no other rule, but that we never expostulate upon past mistakes; to

meet again after a misunderstanding, contains in itself all manner of

apology, all expostulation; but, if I might, I would complain that the

business of the house is neglected while you are attending your amours.

_Sev._ No; there is a present leisure to attend anything of that kind,

to hear any person or persons that pretend to the stage, to examine

scenes or goods to be shown or exhibited there, and give them their

answers.--Let us take our places accordingly.

_Hum._ It is wondrous to consider the folly of mankind, that think so

lightly and so meanly of the faculties of a player.--Roscius had three

thousand scholars, and but one only fit for the purpose.

_Sev._ There's no arguing mankind out of their humour or their taste;

they may be gained upon by skill and labour, but that must be felt

before it's seen.

_Hum._ Now you begin to philosophise: but let us hear the people, in

spite of vernacular dialect or tone, attempting to represent the most

difficult characters of state. Mr. Duntaxat, if you please, we will now

sit down and hear them. [_They sit down at table accordingly._] Mr.

Severn, you see he consents to take out places. [_Rings the bell._] Who

waits?

_Enter_ SERVANT.

_Servant._ A great many people, sir; but none so importunate to be

admitted as the Welsh gentleman, who offers to act the character of

Hamlet for his own pleasure.

_Hum._ Plague on him, whose pleasure will it be besides?

_Sev._ Oh, all the world will like him; let us admit him by all means.

_Hum._ He, in his vernacular tone, will disparage a scene forever by

repeating it; but do as you will.

_Sev._ Pray desire the gentleman to walk in: pray, gentlemen, keep your

countenance, for he is no fool; or if he is, he is a valiant one, and

hath a great estate half-way up the atmosphere.

_Enter_ MR. GWILLYN.

[_They all rise from their seats._]

Sir, we understand the high obligation you lay upon us (pray sit down,

sir) in condescending to tread the stage in the character of the

Prince of Denmark; in which, sir, you are so far right, that he was a

prince of a very ancient family, and not unworthy a gentleman of your

character to represent.

_Gwil._ I have a respect for him, both for his plutt and his prains,

and think I could do him justice.

_Sev._ There is no doubt of it, good sir; and if you please to

pronounce the sentence, "To be and not to be," you'll mightily raise

these gentlemen's expectations and gratitude to you for the favour you

intend them.

_Gwil._ Sir, that will I do, if the gentlemen please to hear it. [_They

all rise, and come forward with him._

_Gwil._ "To pee and not to pee," &c.[138]

_Sev._ Most admirably spoke, sir. Be pleased to give us time to concert

measures what day to act this play. Let our tailor wait upon you to

adjust the shape and all things necessary. [_Exit_ GWILLYN.

_Hum._ It's well we have got well clear of this humorous exceptious

gentleman; but I was in terrible pain lest he should have observed your

inclination to laugh.--But let us not lose time, but go on to answer

other persons. [_Rings the bell._

_Enter_ SERVANT.

_Hum._ Who waits without?

_Servant._ Very many people, sir; but the lady with her daughter says

she has been here so often that she will be next admitted.

_Sev._ She will! she insists to see us altogether and makes a

difficulty even to show her daughter's face. Now that is so

preposterous and humourous, that I could not answer her civilly and in

general, and so put her off.

_Hum._ Let her come in, however, and have her answer from us all.

_Enter_ MRS. FENNELL, _with her_ DAUGHTER.

_Hum._ Madam, what are your commands here?

_Mrs. Fen._ Gentlemen, I am a gentlewoman of a very ancient family.

_Sev._ Very likely, madam; but, indeed, madam, we sit here to provide

for the stage, and not to hear pedigrees. If you are of a house of

yesterday, and please to-day--you'll pardon me, madam---that is what we

are to mind chiefly; but pray, madam, break into your business.

_Mrs. Fen._ Why, gentlemen, this young lady in a mask with me is my

daughter, and I propose her for the stage; for I am reduced, and starve

or beg we must not.

_Sev._ But, madam, please to show us how your daughter will help to

keep us from wanting. Madam, we have a great charge already.

_Mrs. Fen._ Why, you see, gentlemen, her height is very well; she is

neither tall nor short.

_Sev._ We allow it, madam; but that is not all: she must speak with a

good air and grace.--Won't she unmask? Must not we see more than thus

much of her?

_Mrs. Fen._ No, no, gentlemen, we must come to some manner of agreement

before you see any further. To be a maid of honour, a waiting lady on

your Statiras and Roxanas,[139] or any of your theatrical princesses,

she'll deserve twenty shillings a week for mere dumb show--and I'll

have assurance of that in case you like her face; or else it shan't be

said she was offered to the playhouse.

_Sev._ Well, but, madam, that is not all; for let her be for dumb show

only, her face is not all; she must be well limbed [_They whisper and

confer._]--she may sometimes be in a boy's dress--a Cupid, a young heir

to a great family, a page, or a gentleman-usher.