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I ask no consolation. Idle boy!
Think'st thou that this compulsive confidence
Was given to move thy pity ?-Love of fame
(For still I cling to it) has urged me, thus
To quash thy curious mischief in its birth.
Hurt honour, in an evil, cursed hour,
Drove me to murder-lying:-'twould again!
My honesty, sweet peace of mind,—all, all,
Are bartered for a name. I will maintain it.-
Should Slander whisper o'er my sepulchre,
And my soul's agency survive in death,
I could embody it with heaven's lightning,
And the hot shaft of my insulted spirit
Should strike the blaster of my memory

Dead, in the churchyard. Boy, I would not kill thee;
Thy rashness and discernment threatened danger!
To check them, there was no way left but this-

Save one-your death:-you shall not be my victim.
Wilf. My death! What, take my life?-My life! to prop
This empty honour ?

Sir E.

Empty? Grovelling fool!
Wilf. I am your servant, sir, child of your bounty,
And know my obligation. I have been

Too curious, haply: 'tis the fault of youth-
I ne'er meant injury: if it would serve you,
I would lay down my life; I'd give it freely:
Could you then have the heart to rob me of it?
You could not-should not.

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Wilf. Some hours ago, you durst not. Passion moved you,
Reflection interposed, and held your arm.
But, should reflection prompt you to attempt it,
My innocence would give me strength to struggle,
And wrest the murderous weapon from your hand.
How would you look to find a peasant boy
Return the knife you levelled at his heart;
And ask you which in heaven would show the best,
A rich man's honour, or a poor man's honesty?

THE PICTURE SALE "THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL."

R. B. SHERIDAN.

[See p. 296.] CHARACTERS:

CHARLES SURFACE, SIR OLIVER SURFACE, MOSES, CARELESS.

Charles. Walk in, gentlemen; pray walk in; here they are, the

family of the Surfaces, up to the Conquest.

Sir O. And, in my opinion, a goodly collection.

Charles. Ay, ay, these are done in the true spirit of portraitpainting: no volontier grace or expression. Not like the works of your modern Raphaels, who give you the strongest resemblance, yet contrive to make your portrait independent of you; so that you may sink the original, and not hurt the picture. No, no; the merit of these is the inveterate likeness; all stiff and awkward as the originals, and like nothing in human nature besides.

Sir O. Ah! we shall never see such figures of men again.

Charles. I hope not. Well, you see, Master Premium, what a domestic character I am; here I sit of an evening surrounded by my family. But, come, get to your pulpit, Mr. Auctioneer; here's an old gouty chair of my grandfather's will answer the purpose.

Care. Ay, ay; this will do. But, Charles, I have not a hammer; and what's an auctioneer without his hammer?

Charles. Egad! that true: (taking pedigree down) what parchment have we here? Oh! our genealogy in full. Here, Careless, you shall have no common bit of mahogany; here's the family tree for you, you rogue! this shall be your hammer, and now you may knock down my ancestors with their own pedigree. [(Aside.)

Sir O. What an unnatural rogue! an ex post facto parricide. Care. Yes, yes; here's a list of your generation, indeed; 'faith! Charles, this is the most convenient thing you could have found for the business, for 'twill not only serve for a hammer, but a catalogue into the bargain. Come, begin: a-going, a-going, agoing!

Charles. Bravo, Careless! Well, here's my great uncle, Sir Richard Raveline, a marvellous good general in his day, I assure you. He served in all the Duke of Marlborough's wars, and got that cut over his eye at the Battle of Malplaquet. What say you, Mr. Premium ? look at him: there's a hero, not cut out of his feathers, as your modern clipped captains are, but enveloped in wig and regimentals, as a general should be. What do you bid?

Sir O. (Apart to Moses.) Bid him speak.

Moses. Mr. Premium would have you speak.

Charles. Why, then, he shall have him for ten pounds; and I'm sure that's not dear for a staff-officer.

Sir O. Heaven deliver me! his famous uncle Richard for ten pounds! (Aside.) Very well, sir, I take him at that.

Charles. Careless, knock down my uncle Richard. Here, now, is a maiden sister of his, my great aunt Deborah; done by Kneller in his best manner, and esteemed a very formidable likeness. There she is, you see, a shepherdess feeding her flock. You shall have her for five pounds ten: the sheep are worth the money.

Sir O. Ah! poor Deborah! a woman who set such a value on herself! (Aside.) Five pounds ten: she's mine.

Charles. Knock down my aunt Deborah, Careless! This, now, is a grandfather of my mother's, a learned judge, well known on the western circuit. What do you rate him at, Moses ?

Moses. Four guineas.

Charles. Four guineas! Gad's life! you don't bid me the price of his wig. Mr. Premium, you have more respect for the woolsack; do let us knock his lordship down at fifteen.

Sir O. By all means.

Care. Gone!

Charles. And there are two brothers of his, William and Walter Blunt, Esquires, both members of parliament, and noted speakers; and what's very extraordinary, I believe, this is the first time they were ever bought or sold.

Sir O. That is very extraordinary, indeed, I'll take them at your own price, for the honour of parliament.

Care. Well said, little Premium! I'll knock them down at forty.

Charles. Here's a jolly fellow-I don't know what relation, but he was mayor of Norwich: take him at eight pounds.

Sir O. No, no; six will do for the mayor.

Charles. Come, make it guineas, and I throw the two aldermen there into the bargain.

Sir O. They're mine.

Charles. Careless, knock down the mayor and aldermen. But plague on't! we shall be all day retailing in this manner: do let us deal wholesale: what say you, little Premium? Give me three hundred pounds, and take all that remains, on each side, in a lump.

Care. Ay, ay, that will be the best way.

Sir O. Well, well; anything to accommodate you; they are mine. But there is one portrait which you have always passed

over.

Care. What, that ill-looking little fellow over the settee!

Sir O. Yes, sir, I mean that; though I don't think him so illlooking a little fellow, by any means.

Charles. What that? Oh! that's my uncle Oliver; 'twas done before he went to India.

Care. Your uncle Oliver! Gad! then, you'll never be friends, Charles. That, now, to me, is as stern a looking rogue as ever Í saw; an unforgiving eye, and a d-d disinheriting countenance ! an inveterate knave, depend on't. Don't you think so, little Premium? (Slapping him on the shoulder)

Sir O. Upon my soul, sir, I do not; I think it as honest a looking face as any in the room, dead or alive; but I suppose uncle Oliver goes with the rest of the lumber?

Charles. No, hang it! I'll not part with poor Noll. The old fellow has been very good to me, and, egad! I'll keep his picture while I've a room to put it in.

Sir O. (Aside.) The rogue's my nephew after all. But, sir, I bave somehow taken a fancy to that picture.

Charles. I am sorry for it, for you certainly will not have it. Oons! haven't you got enough of them?

Sir O. I forgive him everything. (Aside.) But, sir, when I

take a whim in my head I don't value money. I'll give you as much for that as for all the rest.

Charles. Don't tease me, master broker; I tell you I'll not part with it, and there's an end of it.

Sir Ó. How like his father the dog is! (Aside.) Well, well, I have done. I did not perceive it before, but I think I never saw such a resemblance. (Aside.)-Here is a draught for your sum. Charles. Why, 'tis for eight hundred pounds. Sir O. You will not let Sir Oliver go?

Charles. Zounds! no; I tell you once more.

Sir O. Then never mind the difference; we'll balance that another time; but give me your hand on the bargain; you are an honest fellow, Charles-I beg pardon, sir, for being so free. Come, Moses.

Charles. Egad! this is a whimsical old fellow! But harkye! Premium, you'll prepare lodgings for these gentlemen ?

Sir O. Yes, yes; I'll send for them in a day or two.

Charles. But, hold! do now send a genteel conveyance for them; for I assure you, they were most of them used to ride in their own carriages.

Sir O. I will, I will-for all but Oliver.

Charles. Ay, all but the little nabob.
Sir O. You're fixed on that?

Charles. Peremptorily.

Sir O. A dear, extravagant rogue! (Aside.) Good day! Come, Moses. Let me hear now who dares call him profligate. [Exeunt. Care. Why, this is the oddest genius of the sort I ever met with. Charles. Egad! he's the prince of brokers, I think. I wonder how the devil Moses got acquainted with so honest a fellow. hark! here's Rowley; do, Careless, say I'll join the company in

a few moments.

But,

SCENE FROM THE MAN OF THE WORLD.
CHARLES MACKLIN.

[Macklin, whose real name was Mac Laughlin, was born at Westmeath, Ireland, 1690. He was an actor of high repute, remained on the stage sixtyfour years, and died 1797, aged 107. As a dramatist he was very successful; his comedy "The Man of the World" still keeps possession of the stage.]

CHARACTERS:

SIR PERTINAX MACSYCOPHANT.

EGERTON (his Son).

SCENE-A Library.

Enter SIR PERTINAX and EGERTON.

Sir P. (In warm resentment). Zounds! sir, I will not hear a word about it: I insist upon it, you are wrong; you should have paid

your court till my lord, and not have scrupled swallowing a bumper or twa, or twenty, till oblige him.

Eger. Sir, I did drink his toast in a bumper.

Sir P. Yes, you did; but how, how ? just as a bairn takes physic, with aversions and wry faces, which my lord observed: then, to mend the matter, the moment that he and the Colonel got intill a drunken dispute about religion, you slily slunged away.

Eger. I thought, sir, it was time to go, when my lord insisted upon half-pint bumpers.

Sir P. Sir, that was not levelled at you, but at the Colonel, in order to try his bottom; but they aw agreed that you and I should drink out of sma' glasses.

Eger. But, sir, I beg pardon: I did not choose to drink any more. Sir P. But, zoons! sir, I tell you there was a necessity for your drinking more.

Eger. A necessity! in what respect, pray, sir!

Sir P. Why, sir, I have a certain point to carry, independent of the lawyers, with my lord, in this agreement of your marriage; about which I am afraid we shall have a warm squabble; and therefore I wanted your assistance in it.

Eger. But how, sir, could my drinking contribute to assist you in your squabble?

Sir P. Yes, sir, it would have contributed-and greatly have contributed to assist me.

Eger. How so, sir?

Sir P. Nay, sir, it might have prevented the squabble entirely; for as my lord is proud of you for a son-in-law, and is fond of your little French songs, your stories, and your bon-mots, when you are in the humour; and guin you had but staid, and been a little jolly, and drank half a score bumpers with him, till he had got a little tipsy, I am sure, when we had him in that mood, we might have settled the point as I could wish it, among ourselves, before the lawyers came; but now, sir, I do not ken what will be the consequence.

Eger. But when a man is intoxicated, would that have been a seasonable time to settle business, sir?

Sir P. The most seasonable, sir; for, sir, when my lord is in his cups, his suspicion is asleep, and his heart is aw jollity, fun, and guid fellowship: and, sir, can there be a happier moment than that for a bargain, or to settle a dispute with a friend? What is it you shrug up your shoulders at, sir?

Eger. At my own ignorance, sir; for I understand neither the philosophy nor the morality of your doctrine.

Sir P. I know you do not, sir; and, what is worse, you never wull understand it, as you proceed: in one word, Charles, I have often told you, and now again I tell you, once for aw, that the manœuvres of pliability are as necessary to rise in the world as wrangling and logical subtlety are to rise at the bar. Why you see, sir, I have acquired a noble fortune, a princely fortune; and how do you think

I raised it ?

Eger. Doubtless, sir, by your abilities.

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