Lord Town. Preserve but this desire to please, your power is endless. Lady Town. Oh!-till this moment never did I know, my lord, I had a heart to give you. Lord Town. By Heaven! this yielding hand, when first it gave you to my wishes, presented not a treasure more desirable! Oh, Manly! sister! as you have often shared in my disquiet, partake now of my felicity! my new-born joy! see, here, the bride of my desires! This may be called my wedding-day. Lady Grace. Sister, (for now, methinks, that name is dearer to my heart than ever) let me congratulate the happiness that opens to you. Man. Long, long, and mutual, may it flowLord Town. To make our happiness complete, my dear, join here with me to give a hand, that amply will repay the obligation. Lady Town. Sister, a day like this- general joy. to speak it. Lord Town. Oh, Manly, how the name of friend endears the brother! [Embracing him. Man. Your words, my lord, will warm me to deserve them. Enter a Servant. Ser. My lord, the apartments are full of masqueraders-And some people of quality there desire to see your lordship and my lady. Lady Town. I thought, my lord, your orders had forbid their revelling? After some time, LORD and LADY TOWNLY, with LADY GRACE, enter to them, unmasked. Lord Town. So! here's a great deal of company. Lady Town. A great many people, my lord, but no company- as you'll find- -for here's one now that seems to have a mind to entertain us. [A Mask, after some affected gesture, makes up to LADY TOWNLY. Mask. Well, dear lady Townly, sha'n't we see you by-and-by? Lady Town. I don't know you, madam. [In a squeaking tone. Lady Town. Not I, indeed. lieve. Mask. That's what I'd have you do. Lady Town. But, madam, if I don't know you at all, is not that as well? Mask. Ay, but you do know me. Lady Town. Dear sister, take her off my hands; there's no bearing this. [Apart. Lady Grace. I fancy I know you, madam. Mask. I fancy you don't; what makes you think you do? Lady Grace. Because I have heard you talk. Mask. Ay, but you don't know my voice, I'm sure. Lady Grace. There is something in your wit and humour, madam, so very much your own, it is impossible you can be any body but my lady Lord Town. No, my dear, Manly has desired their admittance to-night, it seems, upon a parti-Trifle. cular occasion-Say we will wait upon them instantly. [Exit Servant. Lady Town. I shall be but ill company to them. Mask. [Unmasking.] Dear lady Grace! thou art a charming creature. Lady Grace. Is there nobody else we know here? Mask. Oh dear, yes! I have found out fifty already. Lady Grace. Pray who are they? Mask. Oh, charming company! there's lady Ramble-lady Riot- -lady Kill-care-lady Squander lady Strip-lady Pawn--and the dutchess of Single Guinea. Lord Town. Is it not hard, my dear, that people of sense and probity are sometimes forced to seem fond of such company? [Apart. Lady Town. My lord, it will always give me pain to remember their acquaintance, but none to drop it immediately. [Apart. Lady Grace. But you have given us no account of the men, madam. Are they good for any thing? Mask. Oh, yes, you must know, I always find out them by their endeavours to find out SCENE III-Opening to another apartment, discovers a great number of people in masquerade, talking all together, and playing upon one another. LADY WRONGHEAD as a shep-me. herdess; JENNY as a nun; the 'Squire as a running footman; and the Count in a domino. Lady Grace. Pray, who are they? Mask. Why, for your men of tip-top wit and Myr. All the thanks I desire, madam, are in that Mr Bevil should still marry my young misyour power to give. Luc. Name them, and command them. Myr. Only, madam, that the first time you are alone with your lover, you will with open arms receive him. Luc. As willingly as heart could wish it. Myr. Thus, then, he claims your promise.Oh, Lucinda! Luc. Oh, a cheat, a cheat, a cheat! Myr. Hush! 'tis I, 'tis I, your lover! Myrtle himself, madam! Luc. Oh, bless me! what rashness and folly to surprize me so! But hush-my mother— Enter MRS SEALAND, CIMBERTON, and PHILLIS. Mrs Sea. How now! What's the matter? Luc. Oh, madam! As soon as you left the room, my uncle fell into a sudden fit, and-and -so I cried out for help to support him, and conduct him to his chamber. Mrs Sea. That was kindly done. Alas, sir! how do you find yourself? Myr. Never was taken in so odd a way in my life Pray lead me- -Oh, I was talking here-Pray carry me-to my cousin Cimberton's young lady Mrs Sea. [Aside.]-My cousin Cimberton's young lady! How zealous he is, even in his extremity, for the match! A right Cimberton ! [CIMBERTON and LUCINDA lead him, as one in pain. Cim. Pox, uncle, you will pull my ear off! Luc. Pray, uncle, you will squeeze me to death! Mrs Sea. No matter, no matter— -he knows not what he does. Come, sir, shall I help you out? Myr. By no means: I'll trouble nobody but my young cousins here. [CIM. and Luc. lead him off. Phil. But pray, madam, does your ladyship intend that Mr Cimberton shall really marry my young mistress at last? I don't think he likes her. Mrs Sea. That's not material; men of his speculation are above desires. But, be it as it may, now I have given old sir Geoffrey the trouble of coming up to sign and seal, with what countenauce can I be off? Phil. As well as with twenty others, madam. It is the glory and honour of a great fortune to live in continual treaties, and still to break off; it looks great, madam. Mrs Sea. True, Phillis-Yet to return our blood again into the Cimbertons, is an honour not to be rejected. But, were not you saying that sir John Bevil's creature, Humphrey, has been with Mr Sealand? Phil. Yes, madam, I overheard them agree, that Mr Sealand should go himself, and visit this unknown lady, that Mr Bevil is so great with; and, if he found nothing there to fright him, tress. Mrs Sea. How! Nay, then, he shall find she is my daughter as well as his—I'll follow him this instant, and take the whole family along with me. The disputed power of disposing of my own daughter, shall be at an end this very night. I'll live no longer in anxiety, for a little hussy, that hurts my appearance, wherever I carry her, and for whose sake I seem to be not at all regarded, and that in the best of my days. Phil. Indeed, madam, if she were married, your ladyship might very well be taken for Mr Sealand's daughter. Mrs Sea. Nay, when the chit has not been with me, I've heard the men say as much—I'll no longer cut off the greatest pleasure of a woman's life (the shining in assemblies) by her forward anticipation of the respect that's due to her superior-She shall down to Cimberton-hallshe shall she shall. Phil. I hope, madam, I shall stay with your ladyship? Mrs Sea. Thou shalt, Phillis, and I'll place thee then more about me-But order chairs immediately'll be gone this minute. [Exeunt. SCENE IL Charing-Cross. Enter MR SEALAND and HUMPHREY. Mr Sea. I am very glad, Mr Humphrey, that you agree with me, that it is for our common good I should look thoroughly into this matter. Humph. I am, indeed, of that opinion; for there is no artifice, nothing concealed in our family, which ought in justice to be known. I need not desire you, sir, to treat the lady with care and respect. Mr Sea. Mr Humphrey-I shall not be rude, though I design to be a little abrupt, and come into the matter at once, to see how she will bear up on a surprize Humph. That's the door, sir; I wish you success.-[While HUMPHREY speaks, SEALAND consults his table-book,]—I am less concerned what happens there, because I hear Mr Myrtle is as well lodged as old sir Geoffrey; so, I am willing to let this gentleman employ himself here, to give them time at home; for I am sure it is necessary for the quiet of our family, that Lucinda were disposed of out of it, since Mr Bevil's inclination is so much otherwise engaged. [Exit HUMPHREY. Mr Sea. I think this is the door.-[Knocks.]— I'll carry this matter with an air of authority, to inquire, though I make an errand to begin dis[Knocks again. course. Mr Sea. Why, sirrah, though you are a country boy, you can see, cannot you? You know whether she is at home when you see her, don't you? Boy. Nay, nay; I'm not such a country lad, neither, master, to think she is at home because I see her; I have been in town but a month, and I lost one place already for believing my own eyes. Mr Sea. Why, sirrah, have you learnt to lie already? Boy. Ah, master! things that are lies in the country, are not lies at London-I begin to know my business a little better than so-but, an you please to walk in, I'll call a gentlewoman to you that can tell you for certain-She can make bold to ask my lady herself. Mr Sea. Oh, then she is within, I find, though you dare not say so. Boy. Nay, nay, that's neither here nor there; what's matter whether she is within or no, if she has not a mind to see any body? Mr Sea. I cannot tell, sirrah, whether you are arch or simple; but, however, get me a direct answer, and here's a shilling for you. Boy. Will you please to walk in; I'll see what I can do for you. Mr Sea. I see you will be fit for your business in time, child; but I expect to meet with nothing but extraordinaries in such a house. Boy. Such a house, sir! You han't seen it Pray walk in. Mr Sea. Sir, I'll wait upon you. SCENE II.-INDIANA's house. Enter ISABELLA and Boy. yet. Isa. What anxiety do I feel for this poor creature! What will be the end of her? Such a languishing, unreserved passion for a man, that, at last, must certainly leave or ruin her, and, perhaps, both! then, the aggravation of the distress is, that she dare not believe he will-not but I must own, if they are both what they would seem, they are made for one another, as much as Adam and Eve were; for there is no other of their kind, but themselves. So, Daniel, what news with you? Boy. Madam, there's a gentleman below would speak with my lady. Isa. Sirrah, don't you know Mr Bevil yet? Boy. Madam, 'tis not the gentleman who comes every day and asks for you, and won't go in till he knows whether you are with her or no. Isa. Ha! that's a particular I did not know before. Well, be it who it will, let him come Isa. I am indeed surprized-I see he does not know me. [Aside. Mr Sea. You are very prettily lodged here, madam; in troth, you seem to have every thing in plenty- -a thousand a-year, I warrant you, upon this pretty nest of rooms, and the dainty one within them. [Aside, and looking about. Isa. [Apart.] Twenty years, it seems, have less effect in the alteration of a man of thirty, than of a girl of fourteen-he's almost still the same but, alas! I find by other men as well as himself I am not what I was. As soon as he spoke, I was convinced 'twas he. How shall I contain my surprise and satisfaction! He must not know me yet. Mr Sea. Madam, I hope I don't give you any disturbance? but there is a young lady here, with whom I have a particular business to discourse, and I hope she will admit me to that fa vour. Isa. Why, sir, have you had any notice concerning her? I wonder who could give it you. Mr Sea. That, madam, is fit only to be communicated to herself. Isa. Well, sir, you shall see her-I find he knows nothing yet, nor shall, for me: I am resolved I will observe this interlude, this sport of nature and fortune. You shall see her presentty, sir, for now I am as a mother, and will trust her with you. [Exit. Mr Sea. As a mother! right; that's the old phrase for one of these commode ladies, who lend out beauty for hire to young gentlemen that have pressing occasions. But here comes the precious lady herself in troth, a very sightly woman! Enter INDIANA. Ind. I am told, sir, you have some affair that requires your speaking with me? Mr Sea. Yes, madam. There came to my hands a bill, drawn by Mr Bevil, which is payable to-morrow, and he, in the intercourse of business, sent it to me, who have cash of his, and desired me to send a servant with it; but I have made bold to bring you the money myself. Ind. Sir, was that necessary? Mr Sea. No, madam; but, to be free with you, the fame of your beauty, and the regard which Mr Bevil is a little too well known to have for you, excited my curiosity. Ind. Too well known to have for me! Your sober appearance, sir, which my friend described, made me to expect no rudeness or absurdity at least. Who's there? Sir, if you pay the money to a servant, 'twill be as well. Mr Sea. Pray, madam, be not offended; I came hither on an innocent, nay, a virtuous design; and if you will have patience to hear me, it may be as useful to you, as you are in friend-o ship with Mr Bevil, as to my only daughter, | into the matter I came about; but 'tis the same whom I was this day disposing of. thing as if we had talked ever so distinctly-he never shall have a daughter of mine. Ind. You make me hope, sir, I have mistaken you: I am composed again: be free, say onwhat I am afraid to hear. Aside. Mr Sea. I feared, indeed, an unwarranted passion here, but I did not think it was an abuse of so worthy an object, so accomplished a lady, as your sense and mien bespeak-but the youth of our age care not what merit and virtue they bring to shame, so they gratify Ind. If you say this from what you think of me, you wrong yourself and him. Let not me, miserable though I may be, do injury to my be nefactor: no, sir, my treatment ought rather to reconcile you to his virtues. If to bestow without a prospect of return—if to delight in supporting what might, perhaps, be thought an object of desire, with no other view than to be her guard Ind. Sir, you are going into very great errors against those who would not be so disinterested -but as you are pleased to say you see some--if these actions, sir, can in a parent's eye comthing in me that has changed at least the colour of your suspicions, so has your appearance altered mine, and made me earnestly attentive to what has any way concerned you, to inquire into my affairs and character. Mr Sea. How sensibly-with what an air she talks! Ind. Good sir, be seated-and tell me tenderly-keep all your suspicions concerning me alive, that you may in a proper and prepared way-acquaint me why the care of your daughter obliges a person of your seeming worth and fortune to be thus inquisitive about a wretched, helpless, friendless-[Weeping.] But I beg your pardon though I am an orphan, your child is not, and your concern for her, it seems, has brought you hither—I'll be composed-pray, go on, sir. Mr Sea. How could Mr Bevil be such a monster to injure such a woman? Ind. No, sir, you wrong him; he has not injured me-my support is from his bounty. Mr Sea. Bounty! when gluttons give high prices for delicacies, they are prodigious bountiful! Ind. Still, still you will persist in that errorbut my own fears tell me all. You are the gentleman, I suppose, for whose happy daughter he is designed a husband by his good father, and he has, perhaps, consented to the overture, and is to be, perhaps, this night a bridegroom. Mr Sea. I own he was intended such; but, madam, on your account, I am determined to defer my daughter's marriage till I am satisfied, from your own mouth, of what nature are the obligations you are under to him. Ind. His actions, sir, his eyes, have only made me think he designed to make me the partner of his heart. The goodness and gentleness of his demeanour made me misinterpret all; 'twas my own hope, my own passion, that deluded me;— he never made one amorous advance to me; his large heart and bestowing hand have only helped the miserable: nor know I why, but from his mere delight in virtue, that I have been his care, the object on which to indulge and please himself with pouring favours. Mr Sea. Madam, I know not why it is, but I, gas well as you, am, methinks, afraid of entering mend him to a daughter, give yours, sir; give her to my honest, generous Bevil! What have I to do but sigh and weep, to rave, run wild, a lunatic in chains, or, hid in darkness, mutter in distracted starts, and broken accents, my strange, strange story! Mr Sea. Take comfort, madam. Ind. All my comfort must be to expostulate in madness, to relieve with frenzy my despair, and, shrieking, to demand of Fate why, why was I born to such variety of sorrows? Mr Sea. If I have been the least occasionInd. No; 'twas Heaven's high will I should be such; to be plundered in my cradle, tossed on the seas, and even there, an infant captive, to lose my mother, hear but of my father-to be adopted, lose my adopter, then plunged again in worse calamities! Mr Sea. An infant captive! Ind. Yet, then, to find the most charming of mankind once more to set me free from what I thought the last distress, to load me with his services, his bounties, and his favours, to support my very life in a way that stole, at the same time, my very soul itself from me. Mr Sea. And has young Bevil been this wor thy_mau? Ind. Yet then, again, this very man to take another, without leaving me the right, the pretence, of easing my fond heart with tears? for oh! I can't reproach him, though the same hand, that raised me to this height, now throws me down the precipice. Mr Sea. Dear lady! oh, yet one moment's patience; my heart grows full with your affliction! but yet there's something in your story that promises relief when you least hope it. Ind. My portion here is bitterness and sorrow. Mr Sea. Do not think so. Pray, answer me; does Bevil know your name and family? Ind. Alas, too well! Oh! could I be any other thing than what I am-I'll tear away all traces of my former self, my little ornaments, the remains of my first state, the hints of what I ought to have been [In her disorder, she throws away her bracelet, which SEALAND takes up, and looks earnestly at.] Lord Town. To heighten that resemblance, I think, sister, there only wants your rewarding the hero of the fable, by naming the day of his happiness. Lady Grace. This day, to-morrow, every hour, I hope, of life to come, will shew I want not inclination to complete it. Man. Whatever I may want, madam, you will always find endeavours to deserve you. Lord Town. Then, all are happy. Lady Town. Sister, I give you joy consummate as the happiest pair can boast. In you, methinks, as in a glass, I see VOL. II. 4 R |