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mutual uneasiness. I am sure I have enough to Tom. I don't kuow what you heavy inmates do to be honest, and yet keep well with them call noise and extravagance; but we gentlemen, both; but they know I love them, and that makes who are well fed, and cut a figure, sir, think it a the task less painful, however. Oh, here's the fine life, and that we must be very pretty fellows, prince of poor coxcombs, the representative of who are kept only to be looked at. all the better fed than taught! Ho, ho, Tom ! Humph. Very well, sir-I hope the fashion of whither so gay and so airy this morning ? being lewd and extravagant, despising of decency
and order, is almost at an end, since it is arrived Enter Tom, singing.
Tom. Master Humphrey, ha, ha! you were an Tom. Sir, we servants of single gentlemen are unhappy lad to be sent up to town in such queer another kind of people than you domestic ordi- days as you were. Why now, sir, the lacquies nary drudges that do business; we are raised are the men of pleasure of the age; the top above you: the pleasures of board-wages, tavern- gamesters; and many a laced coat about town, dinners, and many a clear gain, vails, alas! you have had their education in our party-coloured never heard or dreamt of.
regiment. We are false lovers, have a taste of Humph. Thou hast follies and vices enough for music, poetry, billet-doux, dress, politics, ruin a man of ten thousand a-year, though it is but as damsels; and when we are weary of this lewd t'other day that I sent for you to town, to put town, and have a mind to take up, whip into our you into Mr Sealand's family, that you might masters' wigs and linen, and marry fortunes. learn a little before I put you to my young mas Humph. Tley day! ter, who is too gentle for training such a rude Tom. Nay, sir, our order is carried up to the thing as you were into proper obedience. You highest dignities and distinctions : step but into then pulled off your hat to every one you met in the Painted Chamber—and, by our titles, you'd the street, like a bashful, great, awkward cuh, as take us all for men of quality—then, again, come you were.
But your great oaken cudgel, when down to the Court of Requests, and you shall see you were a booby, became you much better than us all laying our broken heads together, for the that dangling stick at your button, now you are good of the nation; and though we never carry a a fop, that's fit for nothing except it hangs there question nemine contradicente, yet this I can say to be ready for your master's hand when you are with a safe conscience, (and I wish every gentleimpertinent
man of our cloth could lay his hand upon his Tom. Uncle Humphrey, you know my master heart, and say the same) that I never took so scorns to strike his servants; you talk as if the much as a single mug of beer for my vote in all world was now just as it was when my old master and you were in your youth when you Humph. Sirrah, there is no enduring your exwent to dinner because it was so much a clock, travagance; I'll hear you prate no longer : I when the great blow was given in the hall at the wanted to see you to inquire how things go with pantry-door, and all the family came out of their your master, as far as you understand them: I holes, in such strange dresses, and formal faces, suppose he knows he is to be married to-day? as you see in the pictures in our long gallery in Tom. Ay, sir, he knows it, and is dressed as the country:
gay as the sun; but, between you and I, my dear! Humph. Why, you wild rogue !
he has a very heavy heart under all that gaiety. Tom. You could not fall to your dinner, till a As soon as he was dressed, I retired, but overheard formal fellow, in a black gown, said something him sigh in the most heavy inanner. He walked over the meat, as if the cook had not made it thoughtfully to and fro in the room, then went ready enough.
into his closet: when he came out, he gave ine Humph. Sirrah, who do you prate after ?- this for his mistress, whose maid
you knowdespising men of sacred characters ! I hope you Humph. Is passionately fond of your
pernever heard my young master talk so like a pro- son. fligate!
Tom. The poor fool is so tender, and loves to Tom. Sir, I say you put upon me when I first hear me talk of the worid, and the plays, operas, came to town about being orderly, and the doc- and ridott: es for the winter, the Parks and Bells trine of wearing shams to make linen last clean size for our summer diversions; and lard ! says a fortnight, keeping my clothes fresh, and wear-she, you are so wild—but you have a world of ing a frock within doors.
humour. Humph. Sirrah, I gave you those lessons, be Humph, Coxcomb! Well, but why don't you cause I supposed, at that time, your master and run with your master's letter to Mrs Lucinda, as you might have dined at home every day, and he ordered you? cost you nothing; then you might have made you Tom. Because Mrs Lucinda is not so easily a good family servant; but the gang you have come at as you think for. frequented since at chocolate-houses and taverns, Humph. Not easily come at! why, sir, are not in a continual round of noise and extravagance- her father and my old master agreed that she and Voc. II.
Mr Bevil are to be one flesh before th-morrow slide, to be short-sighted, or stare, to flee: in morning?
the face, to look distant, to observe, to orero Tom. It's no matter for that: her mother, it look, yet all become me; and if I were rich, I seems, Mrs Sealand, has not agreed to it; and could twire and loll as well as the best of you must know, Mr Humphrey, that, in that fa- them. Oh Toin, Tom ! is it not a pity that mily, the grey mare is the better horse.
you should be so great a coxcomb, and I so great Humph. What dost thou mean?
à coquette, and yet be such poor devils as we Tom. In one word, Mrs Sealand pretends to have a will of her own, and has provided a rela Tom. Mrs Phillis, I am your humble servant tion of hers, a stiff starched philosopher, and a for thatwise foot, for her daughter; for which reason, Phil. Yes, Mr Thomas, I know how much you for these ten days past, she has suffered no mes are my humble servant, and know what you sage nor letter from my master to come near her. said to Mrs Judy, upon seeing her in one of her Humph. And where had you this intelligence ? lady's cast manteaus, that any one would have
Tom. From a foolish fond soul, that can keep thought her the lady, and that she had ordered nothing from me -one that will deliver this the other to wear it till it sat easy--for now only letter, too, if she is rightly managed.
it was becoming--to my lady it was only a coverHumph. What, her pretty handmaid, Mrs ing, to Mrs Judy it was a babit. This you said Phillis ?
after somebody or other. Oh Tom, Tom ! thou Tom. Even she, sir. This is the very hour, art as false and as base as the best gentleman of you know, she usually comes hither, under a pre-them all : but, you wretch! talk to me no more tence of a visit to our housekeeper forsooth, on the old odious subject : don't, I say. but in reality to have a glance at
Tom. I know not how to resist your comHumph. Your sweet face, I warrant you. mands, madam. [In a submissive tone, retiring. Tom. Nothing else in nature.
Phil. Commands about parting are grown know, I love to fret and play with the little mighty easy to you of late.
Tom. Oh, I have her! I have nettled and put Humph. Play with the little wanton! what her into the right temper to be wrought upon will this world come to !
and set a-prating. [Aside.)-Why, truls, to be Tom. I met her this morning in a new man- plain with you, Mrs Phillis, I can take little teau and petticoat, not a bit the worse for her comfort of late in frequenting your house. lady's wearing; and she has always new thoughts Phil. Pray, Mr Thomas, what is it, all of a and new airs with new clothes then, she sudden, offends your nicety at our house? never fails to steal some glance or gesture from Tom. I don't care to speak partículárs, but I every visitant at their house, and is indeed the dislike the whole. whole town of coquettes at secondhand. Phil. I thank you, sir; I am a part of that But here she comes; in one motion she speaks whole. and describes herself better than all the words Tom. Mistake me not, good Phillis. in the world can.
Phil. Good Phillis! saucy enough. But howHumph. Then I hope, dear sir! when your everown affair is over, you will be so good as to Tom. I
it is, that thou art a part, which mind your master's with her.
gives me pain for the disposition of the whole. Tum. Dear Humphrey' you know my master You must know, madam, to be serious, I an a is my friend, and those are people I never for- man, at the bottom, of prodigious nice honour. get
You are too much exposed to company at your Humph. Sauciuess itself ! but I'll leave you to house. To be plain, I don't like so many that do your best for him.
[Erit. would be your mistress's lorers whispering to
you. Enter PuLLIS,
Phil. Don't think to put that upon me. You Phil. Oh, Mr Thomas, is Mrs Sugarkey at say this, because I wrung you to the heart home ?--Lard! one is almost ashamed to pass when I touched your guilty conscience about along the streets. The town is quite empty, Judy. and nobody of fashion left in it; and the or Tom, Ah, Phillis, Phillis ! if you but knew my dinary people do so stare to see any thing dres- heart ! sed like a woman of condition, as it were on the Phil. I know too much out. same foor with them, pass by. Alas! alas! Tom. Nay, then, poor Crispo's fate and mine it is a sad thing to walk ! O fortune, fortune
-therefore, give me leave to say, or Tom. What ! a sad thing to walk ! why, sing at least, as he docs upon the same occamadain Phillis, do you wish yourself lame?
Phil. No, Mr Thomas, but I wish I were generally carried in a coach or chair, and of a
Se vedette, &c. Sings.] fortune neither to stand nor go, but to totter, or Phil. What, do you think I'm to be fobbed off
with a song ?-I don't question but you
have SCENE II.-Bevil junior's lodgings. Besung the same to Mrs Judy, too.
VIL, junior, reading. Tom. Don't disparage your charms, good Phillis, with jealousy of so worthless an object; be Beo. These moral writers practise virtue afsides, she is a poor hussy; and if you doubt the ter death. This charming vision of Mirza ! such sincerity of my love, you will allow me true to an author, consulted in a morning, sets the spirits my interest. You are a fortune, Phillis for the vicissitudes of the day better than the Phil
. What would the fop be at now? In good glass does a man's person. But what a day have time, indeed, you shall be setting up for a for- i to go through! to put on an easy look with an tune!
aching heart! If this lady, my father urges me Tom. Dear Mrs Phillis! you have such a spirit to marry, should not refuse me, my dilemma is that we shall never be dull in marriage, when we insupportable. But why should I fear it? Is not come together. But I tell you, you are a for- she in equal distress with me? Has not the letter tune, and you have an estate in my hands. I have sent her this morning confessed my incli
[He pulls out a purse, she eyes it. nation to another? Nay, have I not moral assuPhil. What pretence have I to what is in your rances of her engagements, ton, to my
friend hands, Mr Thomas ?
Myrtle ? It's impossible but she must give in to Tom. As thus : there are hours, you know, it; for sure to be denied is a favour any man when à lady is neither pleased nor displeased, may pretend to. It must be so. Well, then, neither sick" nor well, when she lolls or loiters, with the assurance of being rejected, I think I when she is without desires, from having more may confidently say to my father, I am ready to of every thing than she knows what to do with. marry her--then, let me resolve upon (what I Phil. Well, what then?
am not very good at) an honest dissimulation. Tom. When she has not life enough to keep her bright eyes quite open to look at her own
Enter Tom. dear image in the glass.
Tom. Sir John Bevil, sir, is in the next room., Phil. Explain thyself, and don't be so fond of Bev. Dunce! why did you not bring him in? thy own prating.
Tom. I told him, sir, you were in your closet. Tom. There are also prosperous and good na Beo. I thought you had known, sir, it was my tured moments, as when a knot or a patch is duty to see my father any where. happily fixed, when the complexion particularly
[Going himself to the door. flourishes.
Tom. The devil's in my master! he has always Phil. Well, what then? I have not patience ! more wit than I have.
[Aside. Tom. Why, then-or on the like occasionswe servants, who have skill to know how to time Bevil, junior, introducing Sir John. business, see, when such a pretty folded thing as Bev. Sir, you are the most gallant, the most this (Shews a letter.] may be presented, laid, or complaisant of all parents. Sure 'tis not a comdropped, as best suits the present humour. And, pliment to say, these lodgings are yours. Why madam, because it is a long wearisome journey would you not walk in, sir? to run through all the several stages of a lady's Sir J. Bev. I was loath to interrupt you unseatemper, my master, who is the most reasonable sonably on your wedding-day. man in the world, presents you this to bear your Bev. One to whom I am beholden for my charges on the road. (Gides her the purse. birth-day might have used less ceremony. Phil
. Now, you think me a corrupt hussy? Sir J. Bev. Well, son, I have intelligence you Tom. O fy! I only think you'll take the letter. have writ to your wistress this morning. It Phil
. Nay, I know you do; but I know my would please my curiosity to know the contents own imocence: I take it for my mistress's sake. of a wedding-day letter, for courtship must then Tom. I know it, my pretty one! I know it.
be over. Phil. Yes, I say I do it, because I would not Beo. I assure you, sir, there was no insolence have my mistress deluded by one who gives no in it upon the prospect of such a vast fortune's beproof of his passion: but I'll talk more of this as ing added to our family, but much acknowledgeyou see me on my way home. No, Tom; I as- ment of the lady's great desert. sure thee I take this trash of thy master's not for Sir J. Bev. But, dear Jack, are you in earnest the value of the thing, but as it convinces me tre in all this ? and will you really marry her? has a true respect for my mistress. I remenber Bev. Did I ever disobey any command of a verse to the purpose:
yours, sir? nay, any inclioation that I saw you
bent upon ? They may be false who fanguish and complain, Sir J. Bev. Wly, I can't say you have, sou : But they, who part with money, never feign. but, methinks, in this whole business vou have
Exeunt. not been so warın as I could have wished you;
you have visited her, it is true ; but you bave not Bov. Aye-hut the young lady, sir, will think been particular. Every one knows you can say me so indifferentand do as handsome things as any man; but you Humph. Ayethere you are right-press your have done nothing but lived in the general, being readiness to go to the bride-he won't let you. complaisant only.
[Aside to Bev. Bev. As I am ever prepared to marry if you Ber. Are you sure of that? bid me, so I am ready to set it alone if you will
[Aside to HCMPF. Humph. How he likes being prevented!
[Aside. HUMPHREY enters, unobserved.
Sir J. Bev. No, no; you are an hour or two Sir J. Bev. Look you there now? Why, what too early. am I to think of this so absolute and so indiffe
(Looking on his watch. rent a resignation ?
Bev. You'll allow me, sir, to think it too late Bev. Think that I am still your son, sir. Sir, to visit a beautiful, virtuous, young woman, in the you bave been married, and I have not; and pride and bloom of life, ready to give herself to you have, sir, found the inconvenience there is my arms, and to place her happiness or misery when a man weds with too much love in his for the future, in being agreeable or displeasing head. I have been told, sir, that at the time you
-Call a chair. married, you made a mighty bustle on the occa Sir J. Bev. No, no, no, dear Jack! Besides, sion—there was challenging and fighting, scaling this Sealand is a moody old fellow. There's no walls-locking up the lady-- and the gallant un dealing with some people, but by managing with der an arrest, for fear of killing all his rivals. indifference. We must leave to him the conduct Now, sir, I suppose, you having found the ill con- of this day; it is the last of his commanding his sequence of these strong passions and prejudices daughter. in preference of one wounan to another, in case Bev. Sir, he cannot take it ill, that I am impaof a man's becoming a widower
tient to be hers. Sir J. Bev. How is this?
Sir J. Bev. Pray, let me govern in this matter. Bev. I say, sir, experience has made you wiser You cannot tell how humoursome old fellows in your care of me; for, sir, since you lost my There's no offering reason to some of them, dear mother, your time has been so heavy, so especially when they are rich. If my son should lonely, and so tasteless, that you are so good as see him before I've brought old Sealand into betto guard me against the like unhappiness
, by ter temper, the match would be impracticable. marrying me prudentially, by way of bargain and
Aside. sale; for, as you well judge, a woman, that is Humph. Pray, sir, let me beg you to let Mr espoused for a fortune, is yet a better bargain Bevil go. See whether he will not.—(Aside to if she dies; for then a man well enjoys what he Sir John.]—[Then to Bevil.)--Pray, sir, comdid marry, the money, and is disencumbered of mand yourself; since you see my master is posiwhat he did not marry, the woman.
tive, it is better you should not go. Sir J. Bev. But, pray, sir, do you think Lu Bev. My father commands me as to the object cinda, then, a woman of such little merit? of my affections, but I hope he will not as to the
Beo. Pardon me, sir; I don't carry it so far, warmth and height of them. neither; I am rather afraid I shall like her too Sir J. Bev. So, I must even leave things as I well; she has, for one of her fortune, a great found them, and, in the mean time, at least keep many needless, and superfluous good qualities. old Sealand out of his sight. Well, son, I'll go my
Sir J. Bev. I am afraid, son, there's something self, and take orders in your affair-You'll be in I don't see yet—something that's smothered under the way, I suppose, if I send to you I'll leave all this raillery.
your old friend with you-Humphrey, don't let Beo. Not in the least, sir. If the lady is him stir, d'ye hear. Your servant, your servant. dressed and ready, you see I am. I suppose the
[Erit Sir John. lawyers are ready, too?
Humph. I have a sad time on't, sir, between Enter HUMPHREY.
you and my master- I see you are unwilling, and
I know his violent inclinations for the match. I Humph. Sir, Mr Sealand is at the coffee-house, must betray neither, and yet deceive you both, and bas sent to speak with you.
for your common good. Heaven grant a good Sir J. Bev. Oh! that's well! then I warrant end of this matter! but there is a lady, sir, that the lawyers are ready. Son, you'll be in the way, gives your father much trouble and sorrowyou say
You'll pardon me. Bev. If you please, sir, I'll take a chair, and Bev. Humphrey, I know thou art a friend to go to Mr Sealand's, where the young lady and I both, and in that confidence I dare tell thee will wait your leisure.
That lady-is a woman of honour and virtue.Sir J. Bev. By no means—the old fellow will You may assure yourself I never will marry withbe so vain if he sees
out my father's consent; but, give me leave to
say, too, this declaration does not come up to a bles of value, to his wife, to be educated as his promise that I will take whomsnever he pleases. own adopted daughter.
Humph. Come, sir; I wholly understand you : Humph. Fortune here seemed again to smile you would engage my services to free you from on her. this woman whom my master intends you, to Bev. Only to make her frowns more terrible ! make way in time for the woman you have real-for, in his height of fortune, this captain, too, her ly a mind to.
benefactor, unfortunately was killed at sea, and, Bev. Honest Humphrey! You have always dying intestate, bis estate fell wholly to an advobeen an useful friend to my father and myself; cate, his brother, who, coming soon to take posI beg you to continue your good offices, and don't session, there found, among his other riches, this let us come to the necessity of a dispute; for, if blooming virgin at his mercy. we should dispute, I must either part with more Humph. He durst not, sure, abuse his power? than life, or lose the best of fathers.
Bed. No wonder if his pampered blood was Humph. My dear master! were I but worthy fired at the sight of her. 'In short, he loved ;to know this secret, that so near concerns you, but, when all arts and gentle means had failed to my life, my all, should be engaged to serve you. move, he offered, too, his menaces in vain, deThis
, sir, Í dare promise, that I am sure I will, nouncing vengeance on her cruelty, demanding and can be secret: your trust, at worst, but her to account for all her maintenance from her leaves you where you were; and, if I cannot childhood, seized on her little fortune as his own serve you, I will at once be plain, and tell you inheritance, and was dragging her by violence to
prison, when Providence at the instant interpoBed. That's all I ask. Thou hast made it now sed, and sent me, by miracle, to relieve her. my interest to trust thee. Be patient, then, and Humph. 'Twas Providence, indeed! but pray, hear the story of my heart.
sir, after all this trouble, how came this lady at Humph. I am all attention, sir.
last to England? Beo. You may remeinber, Humphrey, that, in Bev. The disappointed advocate, finding she my last travels, my father grew uneasy at my had so unexpected a support, on cooler thoughts making so long a stay at Toulon.
descended to a composition, which I, without her Humph. I remember it; he was apprehensive knowledge, secretly discharged. some woman had laid hold of you.
Humph. That generous concealment made the Bev. His fears were just; for, there, I first saw obligation double. this lady: she is of Englis birth: her father's Bev. Having thus obtained her liberty, I prename was Danvers, a younger brother of an an- vailed, not without some difficulty, to see her cient family, and originally an eminent merchant safe to England, where we no sooner arrived, of Bristol, who, upon repeated misfortunes, was but my father, jealous of my being imprudently reduced to go privately to the Indies. In this engaged, immediately proposed this other fatal retreat, Providence again grew favourable to his match, that hangs upon my quiet. industry, and, in six years time, restored him to his Humph. I find, sir, you are irrecoverably fixformer fortunes. On this, he sent directions over, ed upon this lady, that his wife and little family should follow him Bev. As my vital life dwells in my heartto the Indies. His wife, impatient to obey such and yet you see what I do to please my father ; welcome orders, would not wait the leisure of a walk in this pageantry of dress, this splendid coconvoy, but took the first occasion of a single vering of sorrow -But, Humphrey, you have ship; and, with her husband's sister only, and your lesson. this daughter, then scarce seven years old, un Humph. Now, sir, I have but one material dertook the fatal voyage : for here, poor crea- question ture, she lost her liberty and life: she and her Beo. Ask it freely. family, with all they had, were unfortunately ta Humph. Is it then your own passion for this ken by a privateer from Toulon. Being 'thus secret lady, or hers for you, that gives you this made a prisoner, though, as such, not ill-treated, aversion to the match your father has proposed yet the fright, the shock, and the cruel disap- you? pointment, seized with such violence upon her Bev. I shall appear, Humphrey, more romanunhealthy frame, she sickened, pined, and died tic in my answer, than in all the rest of my sto
ry; for, though I dote on her to death, and have Humph. Poor soul ! Oh, the helpless infant ! no little reason to believe she has the same
Bev. Her sister yet survived, and had the care thoughts for me, yet, in all my acquaintance and of her; the captain, too, proved to have humani- utmost privacies with her, I never once directly ty, and became a father to her; for, having him- told her that I loved. self married an English woman, and being child Humph. How was it possible to avoid it? less, he brought home into Toulon this her little Bev. My tender obligations to my father have countrywoman, this orphan, I may call her, pre- laid so inviolable a restraint upon my conduct, senting ber, with all her dead mother's movea- that, till I have his consent to speak, I am do