me.

Snake. No!

Ladg S. His real attachment is to Maria or her fortune; but finding in his brother a favored rival, he has been obliged to mask his pretentions and profit by my assistance.

Snake. Yet I am still more puzzled why you should interest yourself in his success.

Lady S. Heavens! how dull you are! Cannot you surmise the weakness which I hitherto, through shame, have concealed even from you? Must I confess that Charles, that libertine, that extravagant, that bankrupt in fortune and reputation, that he it is for whom I am thus anxious and malicious, and to gain whom I would sacrifice everything?

Snake. Now, indeed, your conduct seems consistent; but how came you and Mr. Surface so confidential?

Lady S. For our mutual interest. I have found him out a long time since. I know him to be artful, selfish and malicious-in short, a sentimental knave; while, with Sir Peter, and indeed with all his acquaintance, he passes for a youthful miracle of prudence, good sense and benevolence.

Snake. Yes; yet Sir Peter vows he has not his equal in England-and above all, he praises him as a man of sentiment.

Lady S. True-and with the assistance of his sentiment and hypocrisy, he has brought him entirely into his interest with regard to Maria; while poor Charles has no friend in the house, though, I fear, he has a powerful one in Maria's heart, against whom we must direct our schemes.

be of any essential service to him; for the man who does not feel for the distresses of a friend, even though merited by his own misconduct, deserves

Lady S. O Lud! you are going to be moral, and forget that you are among friends.

Joseph S. Egad, that's true! I'll keep that sentiment till I see Sir Peter. However, it is certainly a charity to rescue Maria from such a libertine, who, if he is to be reclaimed, can only be so by one of your ladyship's superior accomplishments and understanding.

Snake. I believe, Lady Sneerwell, here's company coming. I'll go and copy the letter I mentioned to you. Mr. Surface, your most obedient.

Joseph S. [crossing to SNAKE.] Sir, your very devoted. [Exit SNAKE.] Lady Sneerwell, I am very sorry you have put any further confidence in that fellow.

Lady S. [c.] Maria, my dear, how do you do? What's the matter?

Maria. [L.] Oh, there is that disagreeable lover of mine, Sir Benjamin Backbite, has just called at my guardian's with his odious uncle, Crabtree; so I slipped out and ran hither to avoid them. Lady S. Is that all?

Joseph S. [R.] If my brother Charles had been of the party, madame, perhaps you would not have been so much alarmed.

Lady S. Nay, now you are severe; for I dare swear the truth of the matter is, Maria heard you were here. But, my dear, what has Sir Benjamin done, that you should avoid him so?

Maria. Oh, he has done nothing-but 'tis for what he has said; his conversation is a perpetual libel on all his acquaintance.

Joseph S. Aye, and the worst of it is, there is no advantage in not knowing him-for he'll abuse a stranger just as soon as his best friend; and his uncle Crabtree's as bad.

Lady S. Nay, but we should make allowance. Sir Benjamin is a wit and a poet.

Maria. For my part I own, madame, wit loses its respect with me, when I see it in company with malice. What do you think, Mr. Surface? [Crosses to him.

Joseph S. Certainly, madame; to smile at the jest which plants a thorn in another's breast, is to become a principal in the mischief.

Lady S. [L. Pshaw!-there's no possibility of being witty without a little ill-nature; the malice of a good thing is the barb that makes it stick. What's your opinion, Mr. Surface?

Joseph S. [R.] To be sure, madame; that conver

Lady S. Poor Charles!

Joseph S. True, madame; notwithstanding his vices, one cannot help feeling for him.

Enter SERVANT, L.

talking? To-day Mrs. Clackitt assured me Mr. and Mrs. Honeymoon were at last become mere man and wife, like the rest of their acquaintance; she likewise hinted that a certain widow in the next street had got rid of her dropsy, and recovered her shape in the most surprising manner. And at the same time, Miss Tattle, who was by, affirmed that Lord Buffalo had discovered his lady at a house of no extraordinary fame; and that

Maria. Yes; with a very gross affectation of good-nature and benevolence, she does more mischief than the direct malice of old Crabtree.

Joseph S. I'faith that's true, Lady Sneerwell; whenever I hear the current running against the characters of my friends, I never think them in such danger as when Candour undertakes their defense.

Lady S. Hush!-here she is!

Enter MRS. CAndour, L.

Mrs. C. My dear Lady Sneerwell, how have you been this century? Mr. Surface, what news do you hear? though indeed it is no matter, for I think one hears nothing else but scandal.

Joseph S. [R.] Just so, indeed, ma'am. Mrs. C. [crosses to MARIA.] Oh, Maria! child, -what is the whole affair off between you and Charles? His extravagance, I presume-the town talks of nothing else.

Maria. [R. C.] I am very sorry, ma'am, the town has so little to do.

Mrs. C. [L. C.] True, true, child; but there's no stopping people's tongues. I own I was hurt to hear it, as I indeed was to learn, from the same quarter, that your guardian, Sir Peter, and Lady Teazle, have not agreed lately as well as could be wished.

Maria. 'Tis strangely impertinent for people to busy themselves so.

Mrs. C. Very true, child-but what's to be done? People will talk-there's no preventing it. Why, it was but yesterday I was told that Miss Gadabout had eloped with Sir Filigree Flirt. But, Lord! there's no minding what one hears; though, to be sure, I had this from very good authority.

measure swords on a similar provocation. But, Lord, do you think I would report these things? No, no! tale-bearers, as I said before, are just as bad as the tale-makers.

Joseph S. Ah, Mrs. Candour! if everybody had your forbearance and good-nature!

Mrs. C. I confess, Mr. Surface, I cannot bear to hear people attacked behind their backs; and when ugly circumstances come out against our acquaintance, I own I always love to think the best. [LADY SNEERWELL and MARIA retire a little up.] By-the-bye, I hope 'tis not true that your brother is absolutely ruined?

Joseph S. I am afraid his circumstances are very bad, indeed, ma'am.

Mrs. C. Ah! I heard so but you must tell him to keep up his spirits; everybody almost is in the same way-Lord Spindle, Sir Thomas Splint and Mr. Nicket-all up, I hear, within this week; so if Charles is undone he'll find half his acquaintance ruined too, and that, you know, is a consolation.

Joseph S. Doubtless, ma'am-a very great one. Enter SERVANT, L.

Serv. Mr. Crabtree and Sir Benjamin Backbite. [Exit SERVANT. Lady S. So, Maria, you see your lover pursues you; positively you shan't escape. Enter CRABTREE first and SIR BENJAMIN BACKBITE second, L.

Crab. Lady Sneerwell, I kiss your hand. [Crosses to MRS. CANDOUR.] Mrs. Candour, I don't believe you are acquainted with my nephew, Sir Benjamin Backbite? Egad! ma'am, he has a pretty wit, and is a pretty poet, too; isn't he, Lady Sneerwell?

Sir B. [L.] Oh, fie, uncle!

Mrs. C. Ah, no foundation in the world, I dare swear; no more, probably, than for the story circulated last month of Mrs. Festino's affair with Colonel Cassino-though, to be sure, that affair was never rightly cleared up.

Joseph S. The license of invention some people take is monstrous indeed.

Maria. 'Tis so; but in my opinion, those who report such things are equally culpable.

Sir B. Uncle, now-pr'thee

Crab. I'faith, ma'am, 'twould surprise you to hear how ready he is at these things.

Lady S. I wonder, Sir Benjamin, you never publish anything.

Sir B. To say truth, madame, 'tis very vulgar to print; and as my little productions are mostly satires and lampoons on particular people, I find they circulate more by giving copies in confidence to the friends of the parties. [Crosses to MARIA.] However, I have some love elegies, which, when favored with this lady's smiles, I mean to give

Crab. 'Fore heaven, ma'am, they'll immortalize you! You will be handed down to posterity, like Petrarch's Laura, or Waller's Sacharissa.

Sir B. Yes, madame, I think you will like them, when you shall see them on a beautiful quarto page, where a neat rivulet of text shall murmur through a meadow of margin. 'Fore Gad, they will be the most elegant things of their kind! Crab. [crossing to MRS. CANDOUR.] But, ladies, that's true-have you heard the news?

Mrs. C. What, sir, do you mean the report of— Crab. No, ma'am, that's not it-Miss Nicely is going to be married to her own footman. Mrs. C. Impossible!

Crab. Ask Sir Benjamin.

Sir B. 'Tis very true, ma'am; everything is fixed, and the wedding liveries bespoke.

Crab. Yes-and they do say there were very pressing reasons for it.

Lady S. [L.] Why, I have heard something of this before.

Mrs. C. [L. C.] It can't be—and I wonder any one should believe such a story of so prudent a lady as Miss Nicely.

Sir B. [R. C.] O Lud! ma'am, that's the very reason 'twas believed at once. She has always been so cautious and so reserved that everybody was sure there was some reason for it at bottom. Mrs. C. Why, to be sure, a tale of scandal is as fatal to the credit of a prudent lady of her stamp as a fever is generally to those of the strongest constitutions. But there is a sort of puny, sickly reputation that is always ailing, yet will outlive the robuster characters of a hundred prudes.

Sir B. True, madame-there are valetudinarians in reputation as well as constitution; who, being conscious of their weak part, avoid the least breath of air, and supply their wants of stamina by care and circumspection.

Mrs. C. Well, but this may be all a mistake. You know, Sir Benjamin, very trifling circumstances often give rise to the most injurious tales. Crab. That they do, I'll be sworn, ma'am. Did you ever hear how Miss Piper came to lose her lover and her character last summer at Tunbridge? Sir Benjamin, you remember it?

Sir B. Oh, to be sure! the most whimsical cir

cumstance.

Lady S. How was it, pray?

Crab. Why, one evening, at Mrs. Ponto's assembly, the conversation happened to turn on the breeding Nova Scotia sheep in this country. Says a young lady in company, I have known instances of it for Miss Letitia Piper, a first cousin of mine, had a Nova Scotia sheep that produced her twins. What! cries the lady dowager Dundizzy (who you know is as deaf as a post), has Miss Piper had twins? This mistake, as you may imagine, threw the whole company into a fit of laughter. However, 'twas the next day everywhere reported, and in a few days believed by the whole town that Miss Letitia Piper had actually been brought to bed of a fine boy and girl; and in less than a week there were some people who could name the father, and the farm house where the babies were put out to nurse.

Lady S. Strange, indeed!

Crab. Matter of fact, I assure you. [Crosses to SURFACE.] O Lud! Mr. Surface, pray is it true that your uncle, Sir Oliver, is coming home?

Joseph S. [R.] Not that I know of, indeed, sir.

Crab. [L. of JOSEPH.] He has been in the East Indies a long time. You can scarcely remember him, I believe? Sad comfort, whenever he returns, to hear how your brother has gone on!

Joseph S. Charles has been imprudent, sir, to be sure; but I hope no busy people have already prejudiced Sir Oliver against him. He may reform. Sir B. To be sure he may; for my part, I never believed him to be so utterly void of principle as people say; and though he has lost all his friends, I am told nobody is better spoken of by the Jews.

Crab. That's true, egad, nephew. If the old Jewry was a ward, I believe Charles would be an alderman; no man more popular there, 'fore Gad! I hear he pays as many annuities as the Irish tontine; and that whenever he is sick, they have prayers for the recovery of his health in all the synagogues.

Sir B. Yet no man lives in greater splendor. They tell me, when he entertains his friends he will sit down to dinner with a dozen of his own securities; have a score of tradesmen waiting in the antechamber, and an officer behind every guest's chair.

Joseph S. This may be entertainment to you, gentlemen, but you pay very little regard to the feelings of a brother.

Maria. Their malice is intolerable. [Crosses L.] Lady Sneerwell, I must wish you a good morning; I'm not very well. [Exit MARIA, L. Mrs. C. Oh, dear! she changes color very much.

Lady S. Do, Mrs. Candour, follow her; she may want your assistance. Mrs. C. That I will, with all my soul, ma'am. Poor dear girl, who knows what her situation may be? [Exit MRS. CANDOUR, L. Lady S. "Twas nothing but that she could not bear to hear Charles reflected on, notwithstanding their difference.

Sir B. The young lady's penchant is obvious. Crab. But, Benjamin, you must not give up the pursuit for that; follow her and put her in good humor. Repeat her some of your own verses. Come, I'll assist you.

Sir B. [crosses to SURFACE.] Mr. Surface, I did not mean to hurt you; but depend on't, your brother is utterly undone. [Crosses L. Crab. [crosses to SURFACE.] Oh, Lud! aye, undone as ever man was. Can't raise a guinea!

[Crosses L.

Sir B. [crosses c.] And I'm very sorry, also, to hear some bad stories against him.

[Going L. Crab. Oh! he has done many mean things, that's certain.

Sir B. But, however, as he's your brother[Going L.

Crab. We'll tell you all another opportunity. Exeunt CRABTREE and SIR BENJAMIN, L. Lady S. Ha, ha! 'tis very hard for them to leave a subject that they have not quite run down. Joseph S. And I believe the abuse was no more acceptable to your ladyship than to Maria.

Lady S. I doubt her affections are farther engaged than we imagine. But the family are to be here this evening, so you may as well dine where you are, and we shall have an opportunity of observing farther; in the meantime, I'll go and plot mischief, and you shall study sentiment. [Exeunt R.

SCENE II.--SIR PETER'S House.

Enter SIR PETER, L.

Sir P. When an old bachelor marries a young wife, what is he to expect? "Tis now six months since Lady Teazle made me the happiest of men -and I have been the most miserable dog ever since! We tift a little going to church, and came to a quarrel before the bells had done ringing. I was more than once nearly choked with gall during the honeymoon, and had lost all comfort in life before my friends had done wishing me joy. Yet I chose with caution-a girl bred wholly in the country, who never knew luxury beyond one silk gown, nor dissipation above the annual gala of a race ball. Yet now she plays her part in all the extravagant fopperies of the fashion and the town with as ready a grace as if she had never seen a bush or a grass-plot out of Grosvenor Square! I am sneered at by all my acquaintance, and paragraphed in the newspapers. She dissipates my fortune, and contradicts all my humors; yet, the worst of it is, I doubt I love her, or I should never bear all this. However, I'll never be weak enough to own it. Enter ROWLEY, R. Rowley. Oh, Sir Peter, your servant; how is it with you, sir?

Sir P. [L.] Very bad, master Rowley, very bad. I meet with nothing but crosses and vexations. Rowley. [R.] What can have happened since yesterday?

Sir P. A good question to a married man. Rowley. Nay, I'm sure, Sir Peter, your lady cannot be the cause of your uneasiness.

Sir P. Why, has anybody told you she was dead?

Rowley. Come, come, Sir Peter, you love her, notwithstanding your tempers don't exactly agree. Sir P. But the fault is entirely hers, master Rowley. I am, myself, the sweetest tempered man alive, and hate a teazing temper; and so I tell her a hundred times a day.

Rowley. Indeed!

Sir P. Aye! and what is very extraordinary, in all our disputes she is always in the wrong! But Lady Sneerwell, and the set she meets at her house, encourage the perverseness of her disposition. Then, to complete my vexations, Maria, my ward, whom I ought to have the power of a father over, is determinad to turn rebel too, and absolutely refuses the man whom I have long resolved on for her husband; meaning, I suppose, to bestow herself on his profligate brother.

yet, when he died, he did not leave a more benevolent heart to lament his loss.

Sir P. You are wrong, master Rowley. On their father's death, you know, I acted as a kind of guardian to them both till their uncle Sir Oliver's eastern liberality gave them an early independence; of course no person could have more opportunities of judging of their hearts, and I was never mistaken in my life. Joseph is indeed a model for the young men of the age. He is a man of sentiment, and acts up to the sentiments he professes; but for the other, take my word for't, if he had any grain of virtue by descent, he has dissipated it with the rest of his inheritance. Ah! my old friend, Sir Oliver, will be deeply mortified when he finds how part of his bounty has been misapplied.

Rowley. I am sorry to find you so violent against the young man, because this may be the most critical period of his fortune. I came hither with news that will surprise you.

Sir P. What! let me hear.

Rowley. Sir Oliver is arrived, and at this moment in town.

Sir P. How you astonish me! I thought you did not expect him this month?

Rowley. I did not; but his passage has been remarkably_quick.

Sir P. Egad, I shall rejoice to see my old friend. 'Tis sixteen years since we met. We have had many a day together. But does he still enjoin us not to inform his nephews of his arrival?

Rowley. Most strictly. He means, before it is known, to make some trial of their dispositions.

Sir P. Ah! there needs no art to discover their merits however, he shall have his way; but, pray, does he know I am married?

Rowley. Yes, and will soon wish you joy.

Sir P. What, as we drink health to a friend in a consumption? Ah! Oliver will laugh at me. We used to rail at matrimony together; but he has been steady to his text. Well, he must be at my house, though!-I'll instantly give orders for his reception. But, master Rowley, don't drop a word that Lady Teazle and I ever disagree.

Rowley. By no means.

Sir P. For I should never be able to stand Noll's jokes; so I'd have him think, Lord forgive me! that we are a very happy couple.

Rowley. I understand you;-but then you must be very careful not to differ while he is in the house with you.

Sir P. Egad, and so we must-and that's impossible. Ah! master Rowley, when an old bachelor marries a young wife, he deserves-no-the crime carries its punishment along with it.

[Exeunt ROWLEY R., SIR PETER L.

ACT II.

SCENE I. SIR PETER'S House. Enter LADY TEAZLE and SIR PETER, L. Sir P. Lady Teazle, Lady Teazle, I'll not bear