Enter JULIA. Julia. I had not hoped to see you again so soon. Faulk. Could I, Julia, be contented with my first welcome, restrained as we were by the presence of a third person? Julia. O Faulkland, when your kindness can make me thus happy, let me not think that I discovered something of coldness in your first salutation! Faulk. 'Twas but your fancy, Julia. I was rejoiced to see you to see you in such health. Sure I had no cause for coldness? Julia. Nay, then, I see you have taken something ill. You must not conceal from me what it is. Faulk. Well, then-shall I own to you, that my joy at hearing of your health and arrival here, by your neighbour Acres, was somewhat damped by his dwelling much on the high spirits you had enjoyed in Devonshire-on your mirth, your singing, dancing, and I know not what For such is my temper, Julia, that I should regard every mirthful moment in your absence as a treason to constancy: The mutual tear that steals down the cheek of parting lovers is a compact, that no smile shall live there till they meet again. Julia. Must I never cease to tax my Faulkland with this teasing, minute caprice? Can the idle reports of a silly boor weigh in your breast against my tried affection? Faulk. They have no weight with me, Julia : No, no; I am happy if you have been so. Yet only say, that you did not sing with mirth; say that you thought of Faulkland in the dance! Julia. I never can be happy in your absence! If I wear a countenance of content, it is to shew that my mind holds no doubt of my Faulkland's truth. If I seemed sad, it were to make malice triumph; and say, that I had fixed my heart on one, who left me to lament his roving, and my own credulity. Believe me, Faulkland, I mean not to upbraid you, when I say, that I have often dressed sorrow in smiles, lest my friends should guess whose unkindness had caused my tears. Faulk. You were ever all goodness to me! O, I am a brute, when I but admit a doubt of your true constancy! Julia. If ever, without such cause from you, as I will not suppose possible, you find my affection veering but a point, may I become a proverbial scoff for levity and base ingratitude! Faulk. Ah, Julia, that last word is grating to me! I would I had no title to your gratitude! Search your heart, Julia; perhaps, what you have mistaken for love, is but the warm effusion of a too thankful heart! Julia. For what quality must I love you? Faulk. For no quality! To regard me for any quality of mind or understanding, were only to esteem me. And for person-I have often wished myself deformed, to be convinced that I owed no obligation there for any part of your affection. Julia. Where nature has bestowed a show of nice attention in the features of a man, he should laugh at it as misplaced. I have seen men, who, in this vain article, perhaps, might rank above you; but my heart has never asked my eyes if it were so or not. Faulk. Now, this is not well from you, Julia; I despise person in a man—yet, if you loved me as I wish, though I were an Æthiop, you'd think none so fair. Julia. I see you are determined to be unkind. The contract, which my poor father bound us in, gives you more than a lover's privilege. Faulk. Again, Julia, you raise ideas that feed and justify my doubts. I would not have been more free-no! I am proud of my restraint. Yet, yet-perhaps your high respect alone for this solemn compact has fettered your inclinations, which, else, had made a worthier choice. How shall I be sure, had you remained unbound in thought and promise, that I should still have been the object of your persevering love? Julia. Then try me now. Let us be free as strangers as to what is past: my heart will not feel more liberty. Faulk. There now! So hasty, Julia! So anxious to be free! If your love for me were fixed and ardent, you would not lose your hold, even though I wished it! Julia. Oh, you torture me to the heart! I cannot bear it. Faulk. I do not mean to distress you. If I loved you less, I should never give you an uneasy moment. But hear me. All my fretful doubts arise from this. Women are not used to weigh and separate the motives of their affections: the cold dictates of prudence, gratitude, or filial duty, may sometimes be mistaken for the pleadings of the heart. I would not boast; yet let me say, that I have neither age, person, or character, to found dislike on; my fortune such as few ladies could be charged with indiscretion in the natch. O Julia! when love receives such countenance from prudence, nice minds will be suspicious of its birth. Julia. I know not whither your insinuations would tend: but as they seem pressing to insult me, I will spare you the regret of having done so. I have given you no cause for this! [Exit, in tears. Faulk. In tears! Stay, Julia: stay but for a moment. The door is fastened! Julia; my soul but for one moment: I hear ber sobbing! 'Sdeath! What a brute am I to use her thus! Yet stay. Ay; she is coming now: How little resolution there is in woman! How a few soft words can turn them! No, faith! She is not coming, either. Why, Julia! my love! say but that you forgive me; come but to tell me that; now | this is being too resentful: stay! she is coming too; I thought she would: no steadiness in any thing! Her going away must have been a mere trick, then; she shan't see that I was hurt by it. I'll affect indifference--[Hums a tune: then listens.]-No; zounds! She is not coming! Nor don't intend it, I suppose. This is not steadiness, but obstinacy. Yet I deserve it. What, after so long an absence to quarrel with her tenderness! 'Twas barbarous and unmanly! I should be ashamed to see her now. I'll wait till her just resentment is abated; and when I distress her so again, may I lose her for ever! And be linked, instead, to some antique virago, whose gnawing passions, and long hoarded spleen, shall make me curse my folly half the day, and all the night, [Exit. SCENE III.-MRS MALAPROP's lodgings. Enter MRS MALAPROP, with a letter in her hand, and CAPTAIN ABSOLUte. Mrs Mal. Your being sir Anthony's son, captain, would itself be a sufficient accommodation; but, from the ingenuity of your appearance, I am convinced you deserve the character here given of you. thing in my power, since I exploded the affair; long ago I laid my positive conjunctions on her, never to think on the fellow again. I have since laid sir Anthony's preposition before her; but, I am sorry to say, she seems resolved to decline every particle that I enjoin her. Abs. It must be very distressing, indeed, madam. Mrs Mal. Oh! it gives me the hydrostatics to such a degree! I thought she had persisted from corresponding with him; but, behold, this very day, I have interceded another letter froin the fellow; I believe I have it in my pocket. Abs. O the devil! my last note, [Aside. Mrs Mal. Ay; here it is. Abs. Ay; my note indeed! O the little traitress Lucy! [Aside. Mrs Mal. There; perhaps you may know the writing. [Gives him the letter. Abs. I think I have seen the hand before; yes, I certainly must have seen this hand beforeMrs Mal. Nay; but read it, captain. Abs. [Reads. My soul's idol; my adored Lydia! Very tender, indeed! Mrs Mal. Tender! ay, and prophane, too, o' my conscience! Abs. I am excessively alarmed at the intelligence you send me; the more so, as my new rival' Mrs Mal. That's you, sir. Abs. Permit me to say, madam, that, as I never yet have had the pleasure of seeing Miss Languish, my principal inducement, in this affair, at present, is the honour of being allied to Mrs 4bs. Has universally the character of being Malaprop; of whose intellectual accomplish- an accomplished gentleman, and a man of homents, elegant manners, and unaffected learning,nour.' Well, that's handsome enough. no tongue is silent. Mrs Mal. Sir, you do me infinite honour! I beg, captain, you'll be seated.-[Sit.]-Ah! few. gentlemen, now-a-days, know how to value the ineffectual qualities in a woman! Few think how a little knowledge becomes a gentlewoman! Men have no sense, now, but for the worthless flower of beauty! | Mrs Mal. O, the fellow has some design in writing so. Abs. That he had; I'll answer for him, ma dam. Mrs Mal. But go on, sir; you'll see present Abs. As for the old weather-beaten she-dragon, who guards you,'-Who can he mean by that? Mrs Mal. Me, sir: me: he means me there; what do you think, now? But go on a little further. Abs. It is but too true, indeed, madam; yet I fear our ladies should share the blame; they think our admiration of beauty so great, that knowledge in them would be superfluous. Thus, like garden trees, they seldom shew fruit, till Abs. Impudent scoundrel! It shall go hard time has robbed them of the more specious blos-but I will elude her vigilance, as I am told that som. Few, like Mrs Malaprop and the orange- 'the same ridiculous vanity, which makes her tr e, are rich in both at once! dress up her coarse features, and deck her dull chat with hard words which she don't under Mrs Mal. Sir, you overpower me with goodbreeding; he is the very pine-apple of politeness.stand'You are not ignorant, captain, that this giddy girl has somehow contrived to fix her affections on a beggarly, strolling, eve's-dropping ensign, whom none of us have seen, and nobody knows any thing of. Mrs Mal. There, sir! an attack upon my language! What do you think of that? An aspersion upon my parts of speech! Was ever such a brute! Sure, if I reprehend any thing in this world, it is the use of my oracular tongue, and a Abs. O, I have heard the silly affair before.-nice derangement of epitaphs ! I am not at all prejudiced against her on that ac count. Mrs Mal. You are very good, and very considerate, captain. I am sure I have done every Abs. He deserves to be hanged and quartered! Let me see-same ridiculous vanity' Mrs Mal. You need not read it again, sir. 'her open to the grossest deceptions from flat tery and pretended admiration;'-an impudent coxcomb! so that I have a scheme to see you shortly with the old harridan's consent, and even to make her a go-between in our inter'view.' Was ever such assurance! Mrs Mal. Did you ever hear any thing like it? He'll elude my vigilance, will he--yes, yes! Ha, ha! he's very likely to enter these doors! We'll try who can plot best! Abs. So we will, madam; so we will. Ha, ha, ha! a conceited puppy, ha, ha, ha! Well, but, Mrs Malaprop, as the girl seems so infatuated by this fellow, suppose you were to wink at her corresponding with him for a little time--let her even plot an elopement with him-then do you connive at her escape---while I, just in the nick, will have the fellow laid by the heels, and fairly contrive to carry her off in his stead! Mrs Mal. I am delighted with the scheme! never was any thing better perpetrated! Abs. But, pray, could not I see the lady for a few minutes, now? 1 should like to try her temper a little. Mrs Mal. Why, I don't know; I doubt she is not prepared for a visit of this kind. There is a decorum in these matters. Abs. O Lord! she won't mind me; her Beverley Mrs Mal. Sir! Abs. Gently, good tongue! only tell [Aside. Mrs Mal. What did you say of Beverley? Abs. O, I was going to propose that you should tell her, by way of jest, that it was Beverley who was below; she'd come down fast enough then --ha, ha, ha! Mrs Mal. Twould be a trick she well deserves; besides, you know the fellow tells her he'll get my consent to her; ha, ha! Let him if he can, I say again. Lydia, come down here! Calling.]-He'll make me a go-between in their interviews! Ha, ha, ha! Come down, I say, Lydia! I don't wonder at your laughing; ha, ha, ha! His impudence is truly ridiculous. Abs. 'Tis very ridiculous, upon my soul, madam! ha, ha, ha! Mrs Mal. The little hussy won't hear. Well, I'll go and tell her at once who it is; she shall know that captain Absolute is come to wait on her. And I'll make her behave as becomes a young woman. Abs. As you please, madam. Mrs Mal. For the present, captain, your servant. Ah! you've not done laughing yet, I see; elude my vigilance! yes, yes; ha, ha, ha! [Exit MRS MAL. Abs. Ha, ha, ha! One would think, now, that I might throw off all disguise at once, and seize my prize with security; but such is Lydia's caprice, that to undeceive were probably to lose her. I'll see whether she knows me. [Walks aside, and seems engaged in looking at the pictures. Enter LYDIA. Lydia. What a scene am I now to go through! Surely nothing can be more dreadful, than to be obliged to listen to the loathsome addresses of a stranger to one's heart. I have heard of girls, persecuted as I am, who have appealed in behalf of their favoured lover, to the generosity of his rival: suppose I were to try it--there stands the hated rival-an officer, too! But O how unlike my Beverley! I wonder he don't begin; truly, he seems a very negligent wooer! Quite at his ease, upon my word! I'll speak first; Mr Absolute ! [Turns round. Lydia. O Heavens! Beverley! Abs. Hush! hush, my life! softly! be not surprised! Abs. Madam. Lydia. I am so astonished! and so terrified! and so overjoyed! -for Heaven's sake! how came you here? Abs. Briefly- -I have deceived your auntI was informed, that my new rival was to visit here this evening; and, contriving to have him kept away, have passed myself on her for captain Absolute. Lydia. O charming!you for young Absolute? And she really takes Abs. O, she's convinced of it! Lydia. Ha, ha, ha! I can't forbear laughing, to think how her sagacity is over-reached ! Abs. But we trifle with our precious moments such another opportunity may not occur— then let me now conjure my kind, my condescending angel, to fix the time when I may rescue her from undeserving persecution, and, with a licensed warmth, plead for my reward. Lydia. Will you, then, Beverley, consent to forfeit that portion of my paltry wealth? that burden on the wings of love? Abs. O, come to me-rich only thus-in loveliness!Bring no portion to me but thy love— 'twill be generous in you, Lydia-for well you know, it is the only dower your poor Beverley can repay. Lydia. How persuasive are his words!—how charming will poverty be with him! Abs. Ah! my soul, what a life will we then live! Love shall be our idol and support! we will worship him with a monastic strictness; abjuring all worldly toys, to centre every thought and action there! Proud of calamity, we will enjoy the wreck of wealth; while the surrounding gloom of adversity shall make the flame of our pure love show doubly bright. By Heavens! I would fling all goods of fortune from me with a prodigal hand, to enjoy the scene where I might clasp my Lydia to my bosom, and say, the world affords no smile to me-but here- -[Embra cing her.] If she holds out now, the devil is in it! [Aside. Lydia. Now could I fly with him to the Anti podes! but my persecution is not yet come to a crisis. Enter MRS MALAPROP, listening. Mrs Mal. I am impatient to know how the little hussy deports herself. [Aside. Abs. So pensive, Lydia!—Is, then, your warmth abated? Mrs Mal. Warmth abated!-so, she has been in a passion, I suppose? Lydia. No-nor ever can while I have life. Mrs Mal. An ill-tempered little devil! She'll be in a passion all her life-will she? Lydia. Think not the idle threats of my ridiculous aunt can ever have any weight with me. Mrs Mal. Very dutiful, upon my word! Lydia. Let her choice be captain Absolute, but Beverley is mine. Mrs Mal. I am astonished at her assurance! To his face!-this is to his face! Abs. Thus, then, let me enforce my suit. [Kneeling. Mrs Mar. Aye, poor young man!-down on his knees intreating for pity!I can contain no longer. Why, thou vixen! I have overheard you! Abs. O, confound her vigilance! [Aside. Mrs Mal. Captain Absolute, I know not how to apologize for her shocking rudeness. Lydia. May every blessing wait on my Beverley, my loved Bev Mrs Mal. Hussy! I'll choak the word in your throat!-Come along, come along! [Exeunt severally-ABSOLUTE kissing his hand to LYDIA-MRS MALAPROP stopping her from speaking. SCENE IV.-ACRES's lodgings. ACRES and DAVID.-ACRES as just dressed. Acres. Indeed, David! do you think I become it so ? David. You are quite another creature, believe me, master, by the mass! an' we've any luck, we shall see the Devon monkerony in all the printshops in Bath! Acres. Dress does make a difference, David. David. 'Tis all in all, I think-difference ! why, an' you were to go now to Clod-Hall, I am certain the old lady wouldn't know you: master Butler wouldn't believe his own eyes; and Mrs Pickle would cry, Lard preserve me!' our dairy-maid would come giggling to the door; and I warrant Dolly Tester, your honour's favourite, would blush like my waistcoat!-Oons! I'll hold a gallon, there an't a dog in the house but would bark, and I question whether Phillis would wag a hair of her tail! Abs. So-all's safe, I find. [Aside.]—I have hopes, madam, that time will bring the young la-ing. dy Mrs Mal. O, there's nothing to be hoped for from her-she's as headstrong as an allegory on the banks of Nile! Lydia. Nay, madam; what do you charge me with, now? Mrs Mul. Why, thou unblushing rebel! did not you tell this gentleman, to his face, that you loved another better? did not you say you never would be his? Lydia. No, madam, I did not. Mrs Mal. Good Heavens! what assurance! Lydia, Lydia, you ought to know, that lying don't become a young woman! Did not you boast, that Beverley-that stroller Beverley, possessed your heart? Tell me that, I say! Acres. Aye, David, there's nothing like polish David. So I says of your honour's boots; but the boy never heeds me! Acres. But, David, has Mr De-la-grace been here? I must rub up my balancing, and chasing, and boring. David. I'll call again, sir. Acres. Do-and see if there are any letters for me at the post-office. David. I will. By the mass, I can't help looking at your head! If I hadn't been by at the cooking, I wish I may die if I should have known the dish again myself! [Exit. ACRES comes forward, practising a dancing step. Acres. Sink, slide-coupee-Confound the first Lydia. 'Tis true, madam, and none but Be-inventors of cotillons, say I!-they are as bad as verley Mrs Mal. Hold! hold, assurance! you shall not be so rude. Abs. Nay; pray, Mrs Malaprop, don't stop the young lady's speech: she's very welcome to talk thus-it does not hurt me in the least, I assure you. algebra to us country gentlemen-I can walk a minuet easy enough, when I am forced-and I have been accounted a good stick in a countrydance.-Odds jiggs and tabors!-I never valued your cross-over to couple-figure in-right and left-and I'd foot it with e'er a captain in the county!-but these outlandish heathen allemandes and cotillons are quite beyond me!-I shall never prosper at them, that's sure-mine are true-born English legs-they don't understand their curst French lingo !—their pas this, and pas that, and pas t'other!--Damn me! my feet don't Mrs Mal. Come, take a graceful leave of the like to be called paws! no, 'tis certain I have gentleman. Mrs Mal. You are too good, captain-too amiably patient-but come with me, miss. Let us see you again soon, captain-remember what we have fixed. Abs. I shall, madam. most antigallican toes! Enter SERVANT. Ser. Here is sir Lucius O'Trigger to wait on you, sir. Acres. Shew him in. Enter SIR LUCIUS. Sir Luc. Mr Acres, I am delighted to embrace you. Acres. My dear sir Lucius, I kiss your hands. Sir Luc. Pray, my friend, what has brought you so suddenly to Bath? or my little Alexander the Great, ever inquired where the right lay? No, by my soul! they drew their broad swords, and left the lazy sons of peace to settle the justice of it. Acres. Your words are a grenadier's march to my heart! I believe courage must be catching! I certainly do feel a kind of valour rising as it were-a kind of courage, as I may say-Odds flints, pans, and triggers! I'll challenge him directly. Sir Luc. Ah, my little friend! if I had Blunderbuss-hall here I could show you a range of Acres. Faith! I have followed Cupid's jack-a- ancestry, in the O'Trigger line, that would furlantern, and find myself in a quagmire at last!nish the new room! every one of whom had In short, I have been very ill-used, sir Lucius. killed his man! For though the mansion-house I don't choose to mention names; but look on and dirty acres have slipt through my fingers, I me as on a very ill-used gentleman. thank Heaven, our honour, and the family-pictures, are as fresh as ever! Sir Luc. Pray, what is the case? I ask no names. Acres. Mark me, sir Lucius: I fall as deep as need be in love with a young lady---her friends take my part-I follow her to Bath---send word of my arrival-and receive answer, that the lady is to be otherwise disposed of! This, sir Lucius, I call being ill-used. Sir Luc, Very ill, upon my conscience! Pray, can you divine the cause of it? Acres. O, sir Lucius, I have had ancestors, too!-every man of them colonel or captain in the militia!--Odds balls and barrels! say no more-I'm braced for it!—The thunder of your words has soured the milk of human kindness in my breast!- -Zounds! as the man in the play says, 'I could do such deeds——————’ Sir Luc. Come, come; there must be no passion at all in the case-these things should al Acres. Why, there's the matter; she has ano-ways be done civilly. ther lover, one Beverley, who, I am told, is now in Bath.-Odds slanders and lies! he must be at the bottom of it! Sir Luc. A rival in the case, is there? And you think he has supplanted you unfairly? Acres. Unfairly! to be sure he has. He never could have done it fairly. Sir Luc. Then, sure you know what is to be done? Acres. Not I, upon my soul! Sir Luc. We wear no swords here; but you understand me? Acres. What! fight him? Sir Luc. Aye, to be sure; what can I mean else? Acres. But he has given me no provocation. Sir Luc. Now, I think he has given you the greatest provocation in the world. Can a man commit a more heinous offence against another, than to fall in love with the same woman? O, by my soul! it is the most unpardonable breach of friendship. Acres. Breach of friendship! Aye, aye; but I have no acquaintance with this man. I never saw him in my life. Sir Luc. That's no argument at all; he has the less right, then, to take such a liberty. Acres. Gad! that's true-I grow full of anger, sir Lucius! I fire apace! Odds hilts and blades! I find a man may have a deal of valour in him, and not know it! But couldn't I contrive to have a little right of my side? Sir Luc. What the devil signifies right, when your honour is concerned? Do you think Achilles, Acres. I must be in a passion, sir Lucius—I must be in a rage.—Dear sir Lucius, let me be in a rage, if you love me.-Come, here's pen and paper. [Sits down to write.] I would the ink were red!-Indite, I say indite!-How shall I begin! Odds bullets and blades! I'll write a good bold hand, however. Sir Luc. Pray, compose yourself. Acres. Come-now, shall I begin with an oath? Do, sir Lucius, let me begin with a damme! Sir Luc. Pho, pho! do the thing decently, and like a Christian. Begin now- Sir Acres. That's too civil by half. Sir Luc. To prevent the confusion that might 'arise Acres. Well Sir Luc. From our both addressing the same lady Acres. Aye; there's the reason—' same lady—” Well Sir Luc. I shall expect the honour of your company Acres. Zounds! I'm not asking him to dinner! Acres. Well, then-honour of your compa ny Sir Luc. To settle our pretensions— Sir Luc. Let me see; aye, King's Mead-field will do in King's Mead-fields." Acres. So that's done.--Well, I'll fold it up presently; my own cresta hand and dagger shall be the seal. Sir Luc. You see, now, this little explanation |