_An Apartment in LADY WAITFOR'T'S House.--Two Chairs._
_Enter VAPID and a SERVANT._
_Serv._ Sir, my lady will wait on you immediately.
_Vapid._ Hark ye, sir--Is this young lady of yours very handsome?
_Serv._ Sir?
_Vapid._ Is your young mistress, sir, very handsome?
_Serv._ Yes, sir.--My young mistress is thought a perfect beauty.
_Vapid._ Charming!--What age do you reckon her?
_Serv._ About twenty, sir.
_Vapid._ The right interesting age! and fond of the drama, I suppose?
_Serv._ Sir?
_Vapid._ Very fond of plays, I presume?
_Serv._ Yes, sir, very fond of plays, or any thing relating to them.
_Vapid._ Delightful!--now am I the happiest dog alive:--yes, yes, Vapid!
let the town damn your plays, the women will never desert you. [_Seats
himself._] You needn't stay, sir. [_Exit SERVANT._] That's a good sign,
that fellow isn't used to this kind of business--so much the
better--practice is the destruction of love----yes, I shall indulge a
beautiful woman,--gratify myself, and, perhaps, get the last scene for
my unfinished comedy.
_Enter LADY WAITFOR'T._
_Lady._ Sir, your most obedient.
_Vapid._ Ma'am. [_Bowing._
_Lady._ Pray keep your seat, sir--I beg I mayn't disturb you.
_Vapid._ By no means, ma'am, give me leave--[_Both sit._] Who the devil
have we here? [_Aside._
_Lady._ I am told, sir, you have business for Lady Waitfor't?
_Vapid._ Yes, ma'am--being my first appearance in that character, but I
could wait whole hours for so beautiful a woman.
_Lady._ Oh, sir!
_Vapid._ Yes--I am no stranger to her charms----sweet young creature!
_Lady._ Nay, dear sir, not so _very_ young.
_Vapid._ Your pardon, ma'am,--and her youth enhances her other
merits.--But, oh! she has one charm that surpasses all.
_Lady._ Has she, sir?--What may that be?
_Vapid._ Her passion for the stage.
_Lady._ Sir!
_Vapid._ Yes, her passion for the stage; that, in my mind, makes her the
first of her sex.
_Lady._ Sir, she has no passion for the stage.
_Vapid._ Yes, yes, she has.
_Lady._ But I protest she has not.
_Vapid._ But I declare and affirm it as a fact, she has a strong passion
for the stage, and a violent attachment for all the people that belong
to it.
_Lady._ Sir, I don't understand you--explain.
_Vapid._ Hark ye,--we are alone--I promise it shall go no further, and
I'll let you into a secret--I know----
_Lady._ Well, what do you know?
_Vapid._ I know a certain dramatic author with whom she----he had a
letter from her this morning.
_Lady._ What?
_Vapid._ Yes,--an assignation--don't be alarmed--the man may be depended
on--he is safe--very safe!--Long in the habit of intrigue--a good person
too!--a very good person indeed.
_Lady._ Amazement!
_Vapid._ [_Whispering her._] Hark ye, he means to make her happy in less
than half an hour.
_Lady._ [_Rising._] Sir, do you know who you're talking to?--do you know
who I am?
_Vapid._ No,--How the devil should I?
_Lady._ Then know I am Lady Waitfor't!
_Vapid._ You Lady Waitfor't!
_Lady._ Yes, sir--the only Lady Waitfor't!
_Vapid._ Mercy on me!--here's incident!
_Lady._ Yes, and I am convinced you were sent here by that traitor,
Neville.--Speak, is he not your friend?
_Vapid._ Yes, ma'am:--I know Mr Neville.--Here's equivoque!
_Lady._ This is some trick, some stratagem of his.--He gave you the
letter to perplex and embarrass me.
_Vapid._ Gave the letter! 'gad that's great.--Pray, ma'am, give me leave
to ask you one question--Did you write to Mr Neville?
_Lady._ Yes, sir,--to confess the truth, I did--but from motives----
_Vapid._ Stop, my dear ma'am, stop--I have it--now,--let me be
clear--first, you send him a letter; is it not so? yes: then he gives it
to me--very well: then I come (supposing you only twenty) mighty
well!--then you turn out ninety--charming!---then comes the
embarrassment: then the eclaircissement! Oh! it's glorious!--Give me
your hand--you have atoned for every thing.
_Lady._ O! I owe all this to that villain, Neville--I am not
revengeful--but 'tis a weakness to endure such repeated provocations,
and I am convinced the mind, that too frequently forgives bad actions,
will at last forget good ones.
_Vapid._ Bravo! encore, encore--it is the very best sentiment I ever
heard--say it again, pray say it again--I'll take it down, and blend it
with the incident, and you shall be gratified, one day or other, with
seeing the whole on the stage.--"The mind that too frequently forgives
bad actions will at last forget good ones."
[_Taking it down in his common place book._
_Lady._ This madman's folly is not to be borne--if my Lord too should
discover him. [_VAPID sits, and takes notes._] Here, the consequences
might be dreadful, and the scheme of Ennui's play all undone.--Sir, I
desire you'll quit my house immediately--Oh! I'll be revenged, I'm
determined. [_Exit._
_Vapid._ What a great exit!----Very well!--I've got an incident,
however.--'Faith, I have noble talents--to extract gold from lead has
been the toil of numberless philosophers; but I extract it from a baser
metal, human frailty--Oh! it's a great thing to be a dramatic genius!--a
very great thing indeed. [_As he is going,_
_Enter LORD SCRATCH._
_Vapid._ Sir, your most devoted,----How d'ye do?
_Lord._ Sir, your most obedient.
_Vapid._ Very warm tragedy weather, sir!--but, for my part, I hate
summer, and I'll tell you why,--the theatres are shut, and when I pass
by their doors in an evening, it makes me melancholy--I look upon them
as the tombs of departed friends that were wont to instruct and delight
me--I don't know how you feel--perhaps you are not in my way?
_Lord._ Sir!
_Vapid._ Perhaps you don't write for the stage--if you do,--hark
ye--there is a capital character in this house for a farce.
_Lord._ Why! what is all this--who are you?
_Vapid._ Who am I?--here's a question! in these times who can tell who
he is?--for aught I know I may be great uncle to yourself, or first
cousin to Lady Waitfor't--the very woman I was about to--but no
matter--since you're so very inquisitive, do you know who you are?
_Lord._ Look ye, sir, I am Lord Scratch.
_Vapid._ A peer! pshaw! contemptible;--when I ask a man who he is, I
don't want to know what are his titles, and such nonsense; no, Old
Scratch, I want to know what he has written, when he had the curtain up,
and whether he's a true son of the drama.--Harkye, don't make yourself
uneasy on my account--In my next pantomime, perhaps, I'll let you know
who I am, Old Scratch. [_Exit._
_Lord._ Astonishing! can this be Lady Waitfor't's house--"Very warm
tragedy weather, sir!" "In my next pantomime, let you know who I
am."--Gad, I must go and investigate the matter immediately, and if she
has wronged me, by the blood of the Scratches, I'll bring the whole
business before parliament, make a speech ten hours long, reduce the
price of opium, and set the nation in a lethargy. [_Exit._