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Faulk. She's gone!-for ever!-There was an awful resolution in her manner that riveted me to my place. O, fool!-dolt!-barbarian! Cursed as I am, with more imperfections than my fellow wretches, kind fortune sent a heaven-gifted cherub to my aid, and, like a ruffian, I have driven her from my side! 1 must now hasten to my appointment. Well, my mind is turned for such a scene! I shall wish only to become a principal in it, and reverse the tale my cursed folly put me upon forging here. O love! tormentor! fiend! whose influence, like the moon's, acting on men of dull souls, makes idiots of them, but, meeting subtler spirits, betrays their course, and urges sensibility to madness! [Exit.

Enter MAID and LYDIA.

Maid. My mistress, ma'am, I know, was here, just now; perhaps she is only in the next room. [Exit. Lyd. Heigho! Though he has used me so, this fellow runs strangely in my head. 1 believe one lecture from my grave cousin will make me recall him.

Enter JULIA.

Oh, Julia, I am come to you with such an appetite for consolation! Lud, child! what's the matter with you! You have been crying!-I'll be hanged if that Faulkland has not been tormenting you!

Jul. You mistake the cause of my uneasiness: something has flurried me a little. Nothing that you can guess at.

Lyd. Ah! whatever vexations you may have, I can assure you mine surpass them. You know who Beverley proves to be?

Jul. I will now own to you, Lydia, that Mr. Faulkland had before informed me of the whole affair.

Lyd So, then, I see I have been deceived by every one! but I don't care, I'll never have him.

Jul. Nay, Lydia—

Lyd. Why, is it not provoking, when I thought we were coming to the prettiest distress imaginable, to find

myself made a mere Smithfield bargain of at last?There had I projected one of the most sentimental elopements! so becoming a disguise! so amiable a ladder of ropes! conscious moon-four horses-Scotch parson-with such surprise to Mrs. Malaprop! and such paragraphs in the newspapers!-Oh, I shall die with disappointment!

Jul. I don't wonder at it.

Lyd. Now-sad reverse!-what have I to expect, but after a deal of flimsy preparation, with a bishop's license, and my aunt's blessing, to go sinpering up to the Altar! or, perhaps, be cried three times in a country church, and have an unmannerly fat clerk ask the consent of every butcher in the parish, to join John Absolute and Lydia Languish, spinster.-Oh, that I should live to hear myself called spinster!

Jul. Melancholy, indeed!

Lyd. How mortifying, to remember the dear, delicious shifts I used to be put to, to gain half a minute's conversation with this fellow! How often have I stole forth in the coldest night in January, and found him in the garden, stuck like a dripping statue!-There would he kneel to me in the snow, and sneeze and cough, so pathetically!-he shivering with cold, and I with apprehension!-and, while the freezing blast numbed our joints, how warmly would he press me to pity his flame, and glow with mutual ardour!-Ah, Julia, that was something like being in love!

Jul. If I were in spirits, Lydia, I could chide you only by laughing heartily at you; but it suits more the situation of my mind, at present, earnestly to entreat you, not to let a man, who loves you with sincerity, suffer that unhappiness from your caprice, which I know too well caprice can inflict.

[MRS. MALAPROP speaks within. Lyd. Oh, lud! what has brought my aunt here?

Enter MRS. MALAPROP and DAVID.

Mrs. M. So! so! here's fine work! here's fine suicide, parricide, and simulation, going on in the fields!

and Sir Anthony not to be found to prevent the antistrophe!

Jul. For heaven's sake, madam, what's the matter? Mrs. M. That gentleman can tell you, 'twas he enveloped the affair to me.

Lyd. Oh, patience!-Do,ma'am, for heaven's sake, tells us what is the matter!

Jul. Do speak, my friend.

Mrs. M. Why, murder's the matter! slaughter's the matter! killing's the matter! But he can tell you the perpendiculars. [Pointing to DAVID. [TO DAVID Dav. Look ye, my lady-by the mass, there's mischief going on. Folks don't use to meet for amusement with fire-arms,fire-locks, fire-engines, fire-screens, fireoffice; and the devil knows what other crackers beside! -This, my lady, I say has an angry favour.

Jul, But who's engaged?

Dav. My poor master-under favour for mentioning him first. You know me, my lady-I am David— and my master of course is, or was, Squire Acres→ and Captain Absolute. Then comes Squire Faulkland. Jul. Do, ma'am, let us instantly endeavour to prevent mischief.

Mrs. M. Oh, fie! it would be very inelegant in us -we should only participate things.

Lyd. Do, my dear aunt, let us hasten to prevent them.

Dav. Ah, do, Mrs. Aunt, save a few lives!—they are desperately given, believe me. Above all, there is that blood-thirsty Philistine, Sir Lucius O'Trigger.

Mrs. M. Sir Lucius O'Trigger! Oh, mercy! have they drawn poor little dear Sir Lucius into the scrape! [Aside.] Why, how you stand, girl! you have no more feeling than one of the Derbyshire putrefactions! Lyd. What are we to do, madam?

Mrs. M. Why, fly with the utmost felicity, to be sure, to prevent mischief! Come, girls, this gentleman will exhort us. Come, sir, you're our envoy, lead the way, and we'll precede. You're sure you know the spot?

Dav. Oh, never fear! and one good thing is, we shall find it out by the report of the pistols.

All the Ladies. The pistols! Oh, let us fly. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-King's Mead Fields.

Enter SIR LUCIUS and ACRES, with Pistols.

Acres. By my valour, then, Sir Lucius, forty yards is a good distance. Odds levels and aims! I say it is a good distance.

Sir L. It is for muskets, or small field-pieces; upon my conscience, Mr. Acres, you must leave these things to me. Stay now, I'll shew you. [Measures paces along the Stage.] There, now, that is a very pretty distance--a pretty gentleman's distance.

Acres. Z-ds! we might as well fight in a sentrybox! I tell you, Sir Lucius, the farther he is off the cooler I shall take my aim.

Sir L. Faith, then, I suppose you would aim at him best of all if he were out of sight!

Acres. No, Sir Lucius, but 1 should think forty, or eight-and-thirty yards

Sir L. Pho! pho! nonsense! three or four feet between the mouths of your pistols is as good as a mile.

Acres. Odds bullets, no! by my valour, there is no merit in killing him so near! Do, my dear Sir Lucius, let me bring him down at a long shot; a long shot, Sir Lucius, if you love me.

Sir L. Well, the gentleman's friend and I must settle that. But tell me now, Mr. Acres, in case of an accident, is there any little will or commission I could execute for you?

Acres. I am much obliged to you, Sir Lucius, but I don't understand

Sir L. Why, you may think there's no being shot at without a little risk; and, if an unlucky bullet should carry a quietus with it, I say it will be no time then to be bothering you about family matters. Acres. A quietus!

Sir L. For instance, now, if that should be the case,

would you choose to be pickled and sent home? or would it be the same thing to you to lie here in the Abbey? I'm told there's very snug lying in the Abbey.

Acres Pickled!-Snug lying in the Abbey !—Odds tremors! Sir Lucius, don't talk so!

Sir L. I suppose, Mr. Acres, you never were engaged in an affair of this kind before?

Acres. No, Sir Lucius, never before.

Sir L. Ah, that's a pity; there's nothing like being used to a thing. Pray, now, how would you receive the gentleman's shot?

Acres. Odds files! I've practised that-there, Sir Lucius, there-[Puts himself into an attitude] a sidefront, hey? Odd I'll make myself small enough; I'll stand edgeways.

Sir L. Now, you're quite out; for if you stand so when I take my aim[Levelling at him. Acres. Z-ds, Sir Lucius! are you sure it is not cocked?

Sir L. Never fear.

Acres. But-but-you don't know-it may go off of its own head!

Sir L. Pho! be easy. Well, now, if I hit you in the body, my bullet has a double chance; for if it misses a vital part on your right side, 'twill be very hard if it don't succeed on the left.

Acres. A vital part!

Sir. L. But there-fix yourselfso-[Placing him]— let him see the broadside of your full front-therenow a ball or two may pass clean through your body, and never do you any harm at all.

Acres. Clean through me! a ball or two clean through me!

Sir. L. Ay, may they; and it is much the genteelest attitude into the bargain.

Acres. Look ye, Sir Lucius; I'd just as lief be shot in an awkward posture as a genteel one; so, by my valour! I will stand edgeways.

Sir L. [Looking at his watch.]Sure they don't mean

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