_A Saloon in LADY WAITFOR'T'S House._
_LOUISA discovered reading._
_Louisa._ Heigho! these poets are wonderfully tiresome--always on the
same theme--nothing but love--I'm weary of it. [_Lays down the book, and
rises._] Ungenerous Neville! how could he use me so cruelly? to attempt
to gain my affections, and then address another? Lady Waitfor't has
convinced me of the fact,--I can never forgive him: yet, I fear I love
him still--well, I'll even go examine my heart, and determine whether I
do love him or not.
_Enter NEVILLE, as she is going out._
Mr Neville!--I thought, sir, I had desired we might never meet again.
_Nev._ 'Tis true, madam, and I meant to obey your commands, hard as they
were, implicitly obey them--but I came hither to welcome my brother, and
not to intrude on the happiness of her I am doomed to avoid.
_Louisa._ If I remember, sir, truth was ever among the foremost of your
virtues?
_Nev._ Yes--and I am confident you have no reason to doubt it--though
you have cause to censure my presumption, you have none to suspect my
fidelity.
_Louisa._ Oh no!--I don't suspect your fidelity in the least, but when
people are faithful to more than one, you know, Mr Neville----
_Nev._ I don't understand you, ma'am.
_Louisa._ It is no matter, Mr Neville--you may spare yourself any
trouble in attempting to justify your conduct--I am perfectly satisfied,
sir, I'll assure you. [_Going._
_Nev._ Oh, do not leave me in this anxious state!--perhaps this is the
last time we shall ever meet, and to part thus, would embitter every
future moment of my life. Indeed, I have no hopes that concern not your
happiness--no wishes that relate not to your esteem.
_Louisa._ Sir,--I will freely confess to you, had you shown the least
perseverance in your affection or sincerity in your behaviour, I could
have heard your addresses with pleasure--but to listen to them now, Mr
Neville, would be to approve a conduct, my honour prompts me to resent,
and my pride to despise.
_Nev._ Then I am lost indeed!--'Tis to the perfidious Lady Waitfor't I
owe all this--my present
_Enter LADY WAITFOR'T, behind._
misery--my future pain--are all the product of her jealous rage!--She is
so vile a hypocrite, that--
_Lady._ [_Coming forward._] Who is a hypocrite, sir?
_Nev._ Madam!
_Lady._ Who is a hypocrite, sir? answer me.
_Nev._ Ask your own heart, that can best inform you.
_Lady._ Tell me, Mr Neville, what have I done, that you dare insult me
thus?
_Nev._ What have you done! look on that lady, madam;--there all my hopes
and wishes were combined!--There was the very summit of my bliss!--I
thought I had attained it; but in the moment of my happiness, you came,
crushed every hope, and baffled all my joys.
_Lady._ Upon my word, sir, very romantic,--but I thank Heaven, I look
for approbation in a better opinion than that of Mr Neville's.
_Nev._ 'Tis well you do, madam; for were I your judge, your punishment
should be exemplary.--But I'll waste words no more--I only hope [_To
LOUISA._] you, madam, are satisfied that one of my errors may at least
be forgiven, and this last suspicion for ever blotted from your memory.
_Lady._ Sir,--from that lady's forgiveness you have nothing to
expect--if she consents to pardon you, I'll take care my lord never
shall.
_Nev._ No--I do not hope for forgiveness--I have heard her
determination; and, cruel as it is, to that I must resign;--she may be
assured I never will intrude where I know I offend.
_Louisa._ Do you then leave us, Mr Neville?
_Nev._ Yes, madam,--and for ever!----May you be as blest in the
gratification of your hopes as I have been wretched in the
disappointment of mine. [_Exit._
_Lady._ Tyrant! I wish he had stayed to hear reason--I hope he is not
serious in leaving us.
_Louisa._ You hope!--Why does it concern you?
_Lady._ Oh! no further than from that general love I bear mankind.--You
forget my feelings on these occasions, Louisa.
_Louisa._ Yes, indeed--I have too much reason to attend to my
own!--You'll excuse me--I have particular business--I'll return
immediately. [_Exit._
_Lady._ Oh! the cause of her confusion is evident--she loves him
still--but they shall never meet again--I have already sent a letter to
Willoughby, which imparts a scheme I have long cherished. My lord, in
his anger about my stage mania, has forgot Ennui's play; so, that there
may be no bars to Willoughby's happiness, I am determined Louisa shall
be his this very night.
_Enter LORD SCRATCH._
_Lord._ Here's a spectacle for a peer! Floriville is below, and has
returned from his travels a finished coxcomb.--I'll not give him a
farthing.
_Lady._ Nay, my lord, perhaps you may be mistaken.
_Lord._ Mistaken! no,--he has travelled not to see, but to say he had
seen.
_Enter MARIANNE, with a French Watch and Chain._
_Mari._ Oh, uncle-in-law! look here----I never saw any thing so elegant
in all my life.
_Lord._ Whose present is this?
_Mari._ Whose!--why the sweet gentleman's just arrived from
Italy.--Lord! he's a dear man!--He has promised to do every thing for
me--to get me a fortune--to get me a husband--to get me a----
_Lord._ Hush! you don't know what you are talking about.
_Mari._ Yes, but I do, though--he has told me every thing--Lord! I have
heard such things!--Come here, near--[_LORD SCRATCH gets close to her._]
get my aunt out of the room, and I'll tell you stories that shall make
your old heart bound again! Hush! do it quietly--I will, upon my
honour.--What an old fool it is! [_Aside._
_Lady._ Marianne, you mustn't listen to Mr Floriville,--for travellers
may persuade you into any thing--and many a woman has been ruined in one
country, by being told it is the fashion in another.
_Lord._ Here he comes: I see, as plain as my peerage, I sha'n't keep my
temper.
_Enter FLORIVILLE._
_Flor._ Ladies, a thousand pardons, for not waiting on you before, but
this is the first vacant moment I have had since my arrival in Bath.
_Mari._ Sir, your coming at all is taken as a very great compliment,
I'll assure you.
_Lady._ Leave the room immediately--no reply--I will be obeyed--[_To
MARIANNE, who exits._] Mr Floriville, we are very happy to see you.
_Flor._ Ma'am, you do me honour--my lord, where's Harry?--I thought to
have found him here;--what, he didn't chuse to stay?--so much the
better--it shows he's not a man of ceremony--we do the same in Italy.
But, hark ye, uncle,--is this the lady I'm to call my aunt?
_Lord._ My gorge is rising: I shall certainly do him a mischief.
_Flor._ [_Spying at her._] Rather experienced or so--a little antique,
eh!--however, the same motive that makes her a good aunt to me, will
make her a good wife to you--you understand me?
_Lord._ Dam'me if I do.
_Flor._ Well, well, no matter--come, I want to hear every thing--to know
what remarkable occurrences have happened since I left England.--Pray,
Lady Waitfor't, inform me--do let me know every little circumstance.
_Lady._ Rather, sir, we should ask of you what happened in your travels?
_Flor._ Oh, nothing so shocking!--no man can be the herald of his own
praise.
_Lady._ Yes, sir,--but I wish to know how you like the Chapel of
Loretto, the Venus de Medicis of Florence, the Vatican at Rome, and all
the numberless curiosities peculiar to the countries you have travelled
through?
_Lord._ Look ye--I'll answer for it, he knows nothing of the gentlemen
you mention--do you, my sweet pretty?--Oh! you damned puppy!
_Flor._ Why swear, my lord?
_Lord._ Swear, my lord! Zounds! it's my prerogative, and, by----tell me
how you spent your time, sir?
_Flor._ Why, in contemplating living angels, not dead antiquities;--in
basking in the rays of beauty, not mouldering in the dust of
ancestry;--in mirth, festivity, and pleasure; not study, pedantry, and
retirement.--Oh, I have lived, sir! lived for myself, not an ungrateful
world, who, should I die a martyr to their cause, would only laugh and
wonder at my folly.
_Lady._ You seem to know the world, Mr Floriville.
_Flor._ No, ma'am, I know little of mankind, and less of myself,--I have
no pilot, but my pleasures;--no mistress, but my passions;--and I don't
believe, if it was to save my life, I could reason consequentially for a
minute together.
_Lord._ Granted:--you have seen every thing worth seeing, yet know
nothing worth knowing;--and now you have just knowledge enough to prove
yourself a fool on every subject.
_Flor._ Vastly well, my lord--upon my word, you improve with your title,
but I am perfectly satisfied, believe me--for what I don't know, I take
for granted is not worth knowing--therefore we'll call another
topic.--I'm in love, my lord.
_Lord._ In love!--with who, sir?
_Flor._ Can't you guess?
_Lord._ No, sir, I cannot.
_Flor._ With one that will please you very much--at least, ought to
please you--you'll be in raptures, dear uncle.
_Lord._ Raptures! and you shall be in agonies, my dear nephew.
_Flor._ You have known one another a long while, yet you hav'n't met for
years--you have loved one another a long while, yet you quarrelled not
an hour ago--you have differed from one another all your lives, yet you
are likely to be friends as long as you live--and, above all, the person
is now in the house.
_Lord._ In this house! let me know who it is this moment, or by the
blood of the Scratches----
_Flor._ One who has charms enough to set the world on fire;--one who has
fortune enough to set a state at war, sir;--one who has talents, health,
and prosperity, and yet not half what the person deserves:--can you tell
now, sir?
_Lord._ No, sir, and if you don't tell this instant----
_Flor._ Then I'll tell you, [_Slaps him on the back._] it's myself, sir!
my own charming self!--I have searched the world over, and I don't find
any thing I like half so well. [_Walks up the stage._
_Lord._ I won't disgrace myself,--I won't lower the dignity of peerage,
by chastising a commoner;--else, you Prince of Butterflies----come, my
lady----look ye, sir--I intend to be handed down to posterity; and,
while you are being lampooned in ballads and newspapers, I mean to cut a
figure in the History of England:--so, come along, my lady--in the
History of England, you coxcomb! [_Exeunt LORD and LADY._
_Flor._ If the face is the picture of the mind, that intended aunt of
mine is a great hypocrite, and the story I heard of the poet proves
it.--But now for a frolic--'gad it's very strange I could never reform,
and become a serious thinking being--but what's the use of thinking?
Reason stays till we call, and then not oft is near,
But honest instinct comes a volunteer!-- [_Exit._