rights of a husband, while you suffer him to be | to Faulkland. There---through my room you'll equally imperious as a lover. find another stair-case.

Julia. Adieu !—[Embrace.]

Julia. Nay, you are wrong entirely. We were contracted before my father's death. That, and [Exit JULIA some consequent embarrassments, have delayed Lydia. Here, my dear Lucy, hide these books. what I know to be my Faulkland's most ardent Quick, quick! Uling Peregrine Pickle under the wish. He is too generous to trifle on such a toilet-throw Roderick Random into the closet point. And, for his character, you wrong him put the Innocent Adultery into the Whole there, too. No, Lydia, he is too proud, too noble Duty of Man-thrust Lord Aimworth under the to be jealous; if he is captious, 'tis without dis-sopha-cram Ovid behind the bolster—there— sembling; if fretful, without rudeness. Unused put the Man of Feeling into your pocket-so, so; to the fopperies of love, he is negligent of the now, lay Mrs Chapone in sight, and leave Forlittle duties expected from a lover-but being dyce's Sermons open on the table. unhackneyed in the passion, his affection is ardent and sincere; and, as it engrosses his whole soul, he expects every thought and emotion of his mistress to move in unison with his. Yet, though his pride calls for this full return, his humility makes him undervalue those qualities in him, which would entitle him to it; and, not feeling why he should be loved to the degree he wishes, he still suspects that he is not loved enough. This temper, I must own, has cost me many unhappy hours; but I have learned to think myself his debtor, for those imperfections which arise from the ardour of his attachment.

Lydia. Well, I cannot blame you for defending him. But, tell me candidly, Julia, had he never saved your life, do you think you should have been attached to him as you are? Believe me, the rude blast, that overset your boat, was a prosperous gale of love to him.

Julia. Gratitude may have strengthened my attachment to Mr Fauikland, but I loved him before he had preserved me; yet, surely, that alone were an obligation suthicient

Lydia. Obligation! Why, a water-spaniel would have done as much! Well, I should never think of giving my heart to a man, because he could swim!

Julia. Come, Lydia, you are too inconside

Lucy. O burn it! Madam, the hair-dresser has torn away as far as Proper Pride.

Lydia. Never mind-open at Sobriety. Fling me Lord Chesterfield's Letters. Now for them. Enter MRS MALAPROP, and SIR ANTHONY AB

SOLUTE.

Mrs Mal. There, sir Anthony, there sits the deliberate simpleton, who wants to disgrace her family, and lavish herself on a fellow not worth a shilling.

Lydia. Madam, I thought you once

Mrs Mal. You thought, miss! I don't know any business you have to think at all. Thought does not become a young woman. But the point we would request of you is, that you will promise to forget this fellow-to illiterate him, I say, quite from your memory.

Lydia Ab, madam! our memories are independent of our wills. It is not easy to forget.

Mrs Mal. But I say it is, miss; there is nothing on earth so easy as to forget, if a person chooses to set about it. I'm sure I have as much forgot your poor dear uncle, as if he had never existed---and I thought it my duty so to do; and let me tell you, Lydia, these violent memories don't become a young woman.

Sir Anth. Why, sure she won't pretend to remember what she's ordered not! Ay, this comes of her reading!

Lydia. What crime, madam, have I committed to be treated thus?

Mirs Mal. Now, don't attempt to extirpate yourself from the matter; you know I have proof controvertible of it. But tell me, will you promise to do as you are bid? Will you take a husband of your friends' choosing?

Lydia. Madam, I must tell you plainly, that had I no preference for any one else, the choice you have made would be my aversion.

Mrs Mal. What business have you, miss, with preference and aversion? They don't become a young woman; and you ought to know, that, as both always wear off, 'tis safest in matrimony to begin with a little aversion. I'm sure I hated your poor dear uncle before marriage as if he'd been a black-a-moor--and yet, miss, you are sensible what a wife I made!' and when it pleased Heaven to release me from him, 'tis unknown

what tears I shed! But suppose we were going to give you another choice, will you promise us to give up this Beverley?

Lydia. Could I belie my thoughts so far as to give that promise, my actions would certainly as far belie my words.

Sir Anth. Well, well, Mrs Malaprop, I will dispute the point no further with you; though, I must confess, that you are a truly moderate and polite arguer, for almost every third word you say is on my side of the question. But, Mrs Malaprop, to the more important point in debate-you say you have no objection to my pro

Mrs Mal. Take yourself to your room. You are fit company for nothing but your own ill hu-posal?'

mours.

Lydia. Willingly, madam---I cannot change for the worse.

[Exit LYDIA. Mrs Mal. There's a little intricate hussy for you!

Sir Anth. It is not to be wondered at, madam; all this is the natural consequence of teaching girls to read. Had I a thousand daughters, by Heaven, I'd as soon have them taught the black art as their alphabet!

Mrs Mal. Nay, nay; sir Anthony, you are an absolute misanthropy.

Sir Anth. In my way hither, Mrs Malaprop, I observed your niece's maid coming forth from a circulating library; she had a book in each hand; they were half-bound volumes, with marble covers; from that moment I guessed how full of duty I should see her mistress.

Mrs Mal. Those are vile places, indeed! Sir Anth. Madam, a circulating library in a town, is as an ever-green tree of diabolical knowledge; it blossoms through the year: and, depend on it, Mrs Malaprop, that they, who are so fond of handling the leaves, will long for the fruit at last.

Mrs Mal. Fie, fie; sir Anthony, you surely speak laconically.

Sir Anth. Why, Mrs Malaprop, in moderation, now, what would you have a woman know?

Mrs Mal. None, I assure you. I am under no positive engagement with Mr Acres; and as Lydia is so obstinate against him, perhaps your son may have better success.

Sir Anth. Well, madam, I will write for the boy directly. He knows not a syllable of this yet, though I have for some time had the proposal in my head. He is at present with his regiment.

Mrs Mal. We have never seen your son, sir Anthony; but I hope no objection on his side?

Sir Anth. Objection! Let him object if he dare! No, no, Mrs Malaprop, Jack knows that the least demur puts me in a phrenzy directly. My process was always very simple; in their younger days, 'twas Jack do this;' if he demurred, i knocked him down; and if he grumbled at that, I always sent him out of the room.

Mrs Mal. Ay; and the properest way, o' my conscience! Nothing is so conciliating to young people as severity. Well, sir Anthony, I shall give Mr Acres his discharge, and prepare Lydia to receive your son's invocations; and I hope you will represent her to the captain as an object not altogether illegible.

Sir Anth. Madam, I will handle the subject prudently. Well, I must leave you; and let me beg you, Mrs Malaprop, to enforce this matter roundly to the girl; take my advice, keep a tight hand; if she rejects this proposal, clap her under Mrs Mal. Observe me, sir Anthony. I would lock and key; and if you were just to let the serby no means wish a daughter of mine to be a vants forget to bring her dinner for three or four progeny of learning; I don't think so much learn-days, you can't conceive how she'd come about. ing becomes a young woman; for instance---I [Exit SIR ANTH. would never let her meddle with Greek, or He- Mrs Mal. Well; at any rate I shall be glad to brew, or algebra, or simony, or fluxions, or para-get her from under my intuition. She has somedoxes, or such inflammatory branches of learn how discovered my partiality for sir Lucius O'ing; neither would it be necessary for her to Trigger-sure, Lucy can't have betrayed me! handle any of your mathematical, astronomical, No; the girl is such a simpleton, I should have diabolical instruments: but, sir Anthony, I would made her confess it. Lucy! Lucy!--[Calls.]— send her, at nine years old, to a boarding-school, Had she been one of your artificial ones, I should in order to learn a little ingenuity and artifice. never have trusted her. Then, sir, she should have a supercilious knowledge in accounts; and, as she grew up, I would have her instructed in geometry, that she might know something of the contagious countries; but above all, sir Anthony, she should be mistress of orthodoxy, that she might not mis-spell, and mispronounce words so shamefully as girls usually do; and likewise that she might reprehend the true meaning of what she is saying. This, sir Anthony, is what I would have a woman know; and I don't think there is a superstitious article in it.

Enter Lucy.

Lucy. Did you call, madam?

Mrs Mal. Yes, girl. Did you see sir Lucius while you was out?

Lucy. No, indeed, madam, not a glimpse of

him.

Mrs Mal. You are sure, Lucy, that you never mentioned

out.

Lucy. O gemini! I'd sooner cut my tongue

Mrs Mal: Well; don't let your simplicity be | away with an ensign! In money, sundry times, mposed on.

Lucy. No, madam,

twelve pound twelve---gowns, five---hats, ruffles, caps, &c.---numberless! From the said ensign, Mrs Mal. So, come to me presently, and I'll within this last month, six guineas and a half---give you another letter to sir Lucius; but mind, About a quarter's pay! Item. From Mrs MalaLucy, if ever you betray what you are intrusted prop, for betraying the young people to her--with (unless it be other people's secrets to me) when I found matters were likely to be discoveryou forfeit malevolence for ever; and your my ed---two guineas, and a black padusoy. Item. being a simpleton shall be no excuse for your lo- From Mr Acres, for carrying divers letters--cality. [Exit MRS MAL. which I never delivered---two guineas, and a pair Lucy. Ha, ha, ha! So, my dear simplicity, let of buckles. Item, From sir Lucius O'Triguer, me give you a little respite-[Altering her man- three crowns, two gold pocket-pieces, and a silner.]-let girls in my station be as fond as they ver snuff-box! Well done, simplicity! Yet I was please of appearing expert, and knowing in their forced to make my Hibernian believe, that he trusts; commend me to a mask of silliness, and a was corresponding, not with the aunt, but with pair of sharp eyes for my own interest under it! the niece: for, though not over-rich, I found he Let me see! to what account have I turned my had too much pride and delicacy to sacrifice the simplicity lately-[Looks at a paper.]-For abet-feelings of a gentleman to the necessities of his ting Miss Lydia Languish in a design of running

fortune.

ACT II.

SCENE I.--CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE's Lodgings. Enter CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE and FAG. Fag. SIR, while I was there, sir Anthony came in: I told him, you had sent me to inquire after his health, and to know if he was at leisure to see you.

Abs. And what did he say, on hearing I was at Bath?

Fag. Sir, in my life I never saw an elderly gentleman more astonished; he started back two or three paces, rapt out a dozen interjectural oaths, and asked, what the devil had brought you here?

Abs. Well, sir, and what did you say?
Fag. O, I lied, sir; I forget the precise lie:
but you may depend on't, he got no truth from
me. Yet, with submission, for fear of blunders
in future, I should be glad to fix what has brought
us to Bath: in order that we may lie a little con-
sistently, Sir Anthony's servants were curious,
sir; very curious indeed,

Abs. You have said nothing to them?-
Fag. O, not a word, sir; not a word. Mr
Thomas, indeed, the coachman (whom I take to
be the discreetest of whips)———-

Abs. 'Sdeath! You rascal! You have not trusted him?

Fag. O, no, sir; no, no; not a syllable, upon my veracity! He was, indeed, a little inquisitive; but I was sly, sir, devilish sly!-My master (said I), honest Thomas, (you know, sir, one says honest to one's inferiors) is come to Bath to recruit -Yes, sir, I said, to recruit; and whether for men, money, or constitution, you know, sir, is nothing to him, nor any one else.

Abs. Well, recruit will do; let it be so

[Exit.

Fag. O, sir, recruit will do surprisingly-indeed, to give the thing an air, I told Thonias, that your honour had already inlisted five disbanded chairmen, seven minority waiters, and thirteen billiard markers.

Abs. You blockhead, never say more than is necessary!

Fag. I beg pardon, sir, I beg pardon; but, with submission, a lie is nothing unless one supports it. Sir, whenever I draw on my invention for a good current lie, I always forge indorsements as well as the bill.

Abs. Well, take care you don't hurt your credit, by offering too much security.-Is Mr Faulkland returned?

Fag. He is above, sir, changing his dress.

Abs. Can you tell whether he has been informed of sir Anthony's and Miss Melville's arrival?

Fag. I fancy not, sir; he has seen no one since he came in, but his gentleman, who was with him at Bristol. I think, sir, I hear Mr Faulkland coming down.

Abs. Go, tell him, I am here.

Fag. Yes, sir. [Going.] I beg pardon, sir; but should sir Anthony call, you will do me the favour to remember, that we are recruiting, if you please?

Abs. Well, well,

Enter FAULKLAND.

Faulkland, you're welcome to Bath again! you are punctual in your return.

Faulk. Yes; I had nothing to detain me, when I had finished the business I went on. Well, what news since I left you? How stand matters between you and Lydia?

Abs. Faith, much as they were; I have not seen her since our quarrel; however, I expect to be recalled every hour.

Faulk. Why don't you persuade her to go off with you at once?

Abs. What, and lose two-thirds of her fortune? You forget that, my friend. No, no, I could have brought her to that long ago.

Faulk. Nay, then, you trifle too long-if you are sure of her, propose to the aunt in your own character, and write to sir Anthony for his con

sent.

Abs. Softly, softly; for though I am convinced my little Lydia would elope with me as ensign Beverley, yet am I by no means certain that she would take me with the impediment of our friends' consent, a regular humdrum wedding, and the reversion of a good fortune on my side: No, no; I must prepare her gradually for the discovery, and make myself necessary to her, before I risk it. Well, but Faulkland, you'll dine with us to-day at the hotel?

Faulk. Indeed, I cannot; I am not in spirits to be of such a party.

Abs. By heavens! I shall forswear your company. You are the most teasing, captious, corrigible lover! Do love like a man.

whom only I value mine. O, Jack! when delicate and feeling souls are separated, there is not a feature in the sky, not a movement of the elements, not an aspiration of the breeze, but hints some cause for a lover's apprehensiou!

Abs. Ay, but we may chuse whether we will take the hint or not. So then, Faulkland, if you were convinced that Julia were well and in spirits, you would be entirely content?

Faulk. I should be happy beyond measure-I am anxious only for that.

Abs. Then, to cure your anxiety at once-Miss Melville is in perfect health, and is at this moment in Bath.

Faulk. Nay, Jack-don't trifle with me. Abs. She is arrived here, with my father, within this hour.

Faulk. Can you be serious?

Abs. I thought you knew sir Anthony better than to be surprised at a sudden whim of this kind. Seriously, then, it is as I tell you-upon my honour.

Faulk. My dear friend!-Hollo, Du Peigne ! my hat-my dear Jack-now, nothing on earth can give me a moment's uneasiness.

Enter FAG.

Fag. Sir, Mr Acres, just arrived, is below.
Abs. Stay, Faulkland, this Acres lives within

a mile of sir Anthony, and he shall tell you how
your mistress has been ever since you left her.-
Fag, shew the gentleman up.
[Exit FAG.

Faulk. What, is he much acquainted in the fa

in-mily?

Faulk. I own I am unfit for company. Abs. Am not I a lover, ay, and a romantic one too? Yet, do I carry every where with me such a confounded farrago of doubts, fears, hopes, wishes, and all the flimsy furniture of a country miss's brain?

Faulk. Ah, Jack! your heart and soul are not, like mine, fixed immutably on one only object. You throw for a large stake, but losing-you could stake, and throw again: but I have set my sum of happiness on this cast, and not to succeed, were to be stript of all.

Abs. But, for Heaven's sake! what grounds for apprehension can your whimsical brain conjure up at present?

Abs. O, very intimate: I insist on your not going besides, his character will divert you. Faulk. Well, I should like to ask him a few questions.

Abs. He is likewise a rival of mine-that is of my other self's, for he does not think his friend captain Absolute ever saw the lady in question; and it is ridiculous enough to hear him complain to me of one Beverley, a concealed, sculking rival, who

Faulk. Hush! he's here.

Enter ACRES.

Acres. Hah! my dear friend, noble captain, and honest Jack, how dost thou? just arrived, faith, as you see. Sir, your humble servant. Warm work on the roads, Jack-Odds whips and wheels! I've travelled like a comet, with a tail of dust all the way as long as the Mall.

Faulk. What grounds for apprehension did you say? Heavens! are there not a thousand? I fear for her spirits, her health, her life-My absence may fret her; her anxiety for my return, Abs. Ah! Bob, you are indeed an eccentric her fears for me, may oppress her gentle temper.planet; but we know your attraction hither And for her health-does not every hour bring Give me leave to introduce Mr Faulkland to me cause to be alarmed? If it rains, some shower you. Mr Faulkland, Mr Acres. may even then have chilled her delicate frame! If the wind be keen, some rude blast may have affected her! The heat of noon, the dews of the evening, may endanger the life of her, for

Acres. Sir, I am most heartily glad to see you: Sir, I solicit your connexions.-Hey, Jack, what, this is Mr Faulkland, who

Abs. Ay, Bob, Miss Melville's Mr Faulkland.

Faulk. I have not seen Miss Melville yet, sir; I hope she enjoyed full health and spirits in De-ber vonshire?

Acres. Never knew her better in my life, sir; never better. Odds blushes and blooms! she has been as healthy as the German Spa.

Faulk. Indeed! I did hear that she had been a little indisposed.

Acres. Faise, false, sir; only said to vex you: quite the reverse, I assure you.

Faulk. There, Jack, you see she has the advantage of me; I had almost fretted myself ill. Abs. Now are you angry with your mistress for not having been sick!

Acres. No, that wa'n't it.

Abs. Or Go, gentle gales! 'gates!'

Go, gentle [Sings. Acres. O no! nothing like it. Odds! now I recollect one of them- My heart's my own, my 'will is free.' [Sings.

Faulk. Fool! fool that I am! to fix all my Faulk. No, no; you misunderstand me: yet happiness on such a trifler! 'Sdeath! to make surely, a little trifling indisposition is not an un-herself the pipe and ballad-monger of a circle! natural consequence of absence from those we to sooth her light heart with catches and glees! love. Now, confess, isn't there something un- What can you say to this, sir? kind in this violent, robust, unfeeling health? Abs. O, it was very unkind of her to be well in your absence, to be sure!