with it? What, she has laid it out, may be-but I suppose you have an account of it? Sir Fran. Yes, yes, I have had the account, indeed; but I mun needs say, it's a very sorry one. Man. Pray, let's hear? Sir Fran. Why, first, I let her have an hunddred and fifty, to get things handsome about her, to let the world see that I was somebody; and I thought that sum was very genteel. Man. Indeed, I think so; and, in the country, might have served her a twelvemonth. Sir Fran. Why, so it might—but here, in this fine town, forsooth, it could not get through four-and-twenty hours-for, in half that time, it was all squandered away in bawbles, and newfashioned trumpery. Man. Oh! for ladies in London, sir Francis, all this might be necessary. Sir Fran. Noa, there's the plague on't; the devil o' one useful thing do I see for it, but two pair of laced shoes, and those stond me in three pounds three shillings a pair, too. Man. Dear sir, this is nothing! Why we have city wives here, that, while their good man is selling three pennyworth of sugar, will give you twenty pounds for a short apron. Sir Fran. Mercy on us, what a mortal poor devil is a husband! Man. Well, but I hope you have nothing else to complain of? Sir Fran. Ah, would I could say so, too!but there's another hundred behind yet, that goes more to my heart than all that went before Sir Fran. Why, she has been at an assembly. Man. What, since I saw you! I thought you had all supped at home last night. Sir Fran. Truly, and well you may, cousin; for I don't see that my wife's goodness is a bit the better for bringing to London. it. Man. If you remember, I gave you a hint of Sir Fran. Why, ay, it's true, you did so: but the devil himself could not have believed she would have rid post to him. Man. Sir, if you stay but a fortnight in this town, you will every day see hundreds as fast upon the gallop as she is. Sir Fran. Ah, this London is a base place, indeed !--- Waunds! if things should happen to g wrong with me at Westminster, at this rate, how the devil shall I keep out of a jail? Man. Why, truly, there seems to me but one way to avoid it. Sir Fran. Ah, would you could tell me that, cousin! Man. The way lies plain before you, sir; the same road, that brought you hither, will carry you safe home again. Sir Fran. Ods-flesh, cousin! what! and leave a thousand pounds a-year behind me ? Man. Pooh, pooh! leave any thing behind you, but your family, and you are a saver by it. Sir Fran. Ay, but consider, cousin, what scurvy figure shall I make in the country, if I come dawn withawt it. -and all as Sir Fran. Why, so we didmerry as grigs-I'cod, my heart was so open, that I tossed another hundred into her apron, to -But the go out early this morning withcloth was no sooner taken away, than in comes my lady Townly here, (who, between you and I ---mum---has had the devil to pay yonder) with another rantipole dame of quality, and out they must have her, they said, to introduce her at my -A few lady Noble's assembly, forsooth— words, you may be sure, made the bargain---so, bawnce! and away they drive, as if the devil had got into the coach-box---so, about four or five in the morning------home comes madam, with her eyes a foot deep in her head---and my poor hundred pounds left behind her at the hazard-real friend, I must speak very plainly to you: you don't yet see half the ruin that's before you. Sir Fran. Good-lack! how may you mean, table! Man. All lost at dice! Man. You will make a much more lamentable figure in a jail without it. Sir Fran. Mayhap 'at yow have no great opinion of it then, cousin? Man. Sir Francis, to do you the service of a Sir Fran. Every shilling---among a parcel of cousin? Man. In one word, your whole affairs stand thus-In a week, you'll lose your seat at Westminster: in a fortnight, my lady will run you into jail, by keeping the best companyIn four-and-twenty hours, your daughter will run away with a sharper, because she han't been used to better company : and your son will steal into marriage with a cast mistress, because he has not been used to any company at all. Sir Fran. I' th' name o' goodness, why should you think all this? Man. Because I have proof of it; in short, I know so much of their secrets, that if all this is not prevented to-night, it will be out of your power to do it to-morrow morning. Sir Fran. Mercy upon us! you frighten me--Well, sir, I will be governed by you: but what am I to do in this case? Man. I have not time here to give you proper instructions; but about eight this evening I'll call at your lodgings, and there you shall have full conviction how much I have it at heart to serve you. SCENE II-Opens to a dressing-room. LADY TOWNLY, as just up, walks to her toilet, leaning on MRS TRUSTY. Trusty. Dear madam, what should make your ladyship so out of order? Lady Town. How is it possible to be well, where one is killed for want of sleep? Trusty. Dear me! it was so long before you rung, madam, I was in hopes your ladyship had been finely composed. Lady Town. Composed! why I have lain in an inn here; this house is worse than an inn with ten stage-coaches: what between my lord's impertinent people of business in a morning, and the intolerable thick shoes of footmen at noon, one has not a wink all night. Trusty. Indeed, madam, it's a great pity my lord can't be persuaded into the hours of people of quality-though I must say that, madam, your ladyship is certainly the best matrimonial manager in town. Lady Town. Oh, you are quite mistaken, Trusty! I manage very ill; for, notwithstanding all the power I have, by never being over-fond of my lord- yet I want money infinitely oftener than he is willing to give it me. Trusty. Ah! if his lordship could but be VOL. II. brought to play himself, madam, then he might feel what it is to want money. Lady Town. Oh, don't talk of it! do you know that I am undone, Trusty? Trusty. Mercy forbid, madam! Lady Town. Broke, ruined, plundered !stripped, even to a confiscation of my last guinea! Trusty. You don't tell me so, madam? the Lady Town. And where to raise ten pound in world-What is to be done, Trusty? Trusty. Truly, I wish I were wise enough to tell you, madam: but may be your ladyship may have a run of better fortune upon some of the good company that comes here to-night. Lady Town. But I have not a single guinea to try my fortune. Trusty. Ha! that's a bad business indeed, madam-Adad, I have a thought in my head, madam, if it is not too late- Lady Town. Out with it quickly, then, I beseech thee. Trusty. Has not the steward something of fifty pounds, madam, that you left in his hands to pay somebody about this time? Lady Town. Oh, ay; I had forgot-'twas to— a-what's his filthy name? Trusty. Now I remember, madam, 'twas to Mr Lutestring, your old mercer, that your ladyship turned off about a year ago, because he would trust you no longer. Lady Town. The very wretch! If he has not paid it, run quickly, dear Trusty, and bid him bring it hither immediately-[Exit TRUSTY.] Well, sure mortal woman never had such for tune! five, five and nine, against poor seven for ever- -No, after that horrid bar of my chance, that lady Wronghead's fatal red fist upon the table, I saw it was impossible ever to win another stake-Sit up all night; lose all one's money; dream of winning thousands; wake without a shilling; and then-How like a hag I look! In short-the pleasures of life are not worth this disorder. If it were not for shame, now, I could almost think lady Grace's sober scheme not quite so ridiculous-If my wise lord could but hold his tongue for a week, 'tis odds but I should hate the town in a fortnight-But I will not be driven out of it, that's positive. TRUSTY returns. Trusty. Oh, madam, there's no bearing of it! Mr Lutestring was just let in at the door, as I came to the stair foot; and the steward is now actually paying him the money in the hall. Lady Town. Run to the stair-case head again and scream to him, that I must speak with him this instant. [TRUSTY runs out, and speaks. Trusty. Mr Poundage-a-hem! Mr Poundage, a word with you quickly! [Without. Pound. [Within.] I'll come to you presently. [Without. 4 Q Well, Muslin, have you seen his prime minister? Mus. Yes, ma'am, I have seen Mr William. He says his master is going out, according to the old trade, and he does not expect to see him again till to-morrow morning. Mr Lovemore is now in the study. Sir Brilliant Fashion is with him: I heard them, as I passed by the door, laughing as loud as two actors in a comedy. Mrs Love. About some precious mischief, I'll be sworn, and all at my cost. Heigho! Mus. Dear Ma'am, why chagrin yourself about a vile man, that is not worthno, as I hope for mercy, not worth a single sigh! Mrs Love. What can I do, Muslin? Mus. Do, ma'am !-If I was as you, I'd do for him. If I could not cure my grief, I'd find some comfort; that's what I would. me. Mrs Love. Comfort? alas! there is none for death of me, if I have not a box for the new play. Lord bless you, ma'am, they rantipole it about this town, with as unconcerned looks, and as florid outsides, as if they were treated at home like so many goddesses: though every body knows possession has ungoddessed them all long ago, and their husbands care no more for them, no, by jingo, no more than they care for their husbands! Mrs Love. At what a rate you run on! Mus. It is enough to make a body run on. If every body thought like you, ma'am Mrs Love. If every body loved like me ! Mus. A brass thimble for love, if it is not returned by love. What the deuce is here to do? Love for love is something: but to love alone, where's the good of that? Shall I go and fix my heart upon a man, who shall despise me for that very reason? And ay, says he, Poor fool! I see she adores me. The woman is well enough, only she has one inconvenient circumstance about her; I am married to her, and marriage is the devil!' Mrs Love. Will you have done? Mus. I have not half done, ma'am. And when the vile man goes a rogueing, he smiles impudently in your face, and I am going to the cho'colate-house, my dear; amuse yourself in the mean time, my love.' Fy upon them! I know them all. Give me a husband that will enlarge Mus. And whose fault, then? Would any body the circle of my innocent pleasures: but a husbut you-It provokes me to think of it-Would band now-a-days is no such thing. A husband any but you young, handsome, with wit, graces, now is nothing but a scare-crow, to shew you the talents-would any body, with so many accom-fruit, but touch it if you dare. The devil's in plishments, sit at home here, as melancholy as a poor servant out of place?-And all for what? For a husband! And such a husband! What do think the world will you of say you, ma'am? Mrs Love. I care not what they say; I am tired of the world, and the world may be tired of me, if it will. My troubles are to myself only, and I must endeavour to bear them. Who knows what patience may do? If Mr Lovemore has any feeling left, my conduct and his own heart may one day incline him to do me justice. them! the Lord forgive me for swearing! A busband is a mere bugbear, a snap-dragon, a monster; that is to say, if one makes him so, then he is a monster indeed; and if one do not make him so, then he behaves like a monster; and of the two evils, by my troth-But here, ma'am, here comes one who can tell you all about it. Here comes sir Brilliant: ask his advice, ma'am. Mrs Love. His advice?- Ask advice of the man, who has estranged Mr Lovemore's affections from me? pink of the fashion. He dresses fashionably, lives fashionably, wins your money fashionably, loses his own fashionably, and does every thing fashionably; and then he looks so lively, and so much to say, and so never at a loss!-But here he comes. Mus. But, dear ma'am, that's waiting for dead Mus. Well, I protest and vow, I think sir Brilmen's shoes. Incline him to do you justice!liant a very pretty gentleman. He is the very What signifies expecting and expecting? Give me a bird in the hand. If all the women in London, who happen to be in your case, were to sit down and die of the spleen, what would become of the public places They might turn Vauxhall to a hop-garden; make a brewhouse of Ranelagh, and let both the play-houses to a methodistpreacher. We should not have the racketing we have now. John, let the horses be put to--— John, go to my lady Trumpabout, and invite her to a small party of twenty or thirty card-tables. John, run to my lady Catgut, and let her know I'll wait upon her ladyship to the opera. John, run, as fast as ever you can, with my compliments to Mr Varney, and tell him, it will be the Enter SIR BRILLIANT. Sir Bril. Mrs Lovemore, my dear madam, always in a vis-a-vis party with your suivante ?— Afford me your pardon, if I say this does a little wear the appearance of being out of humour with the world. Mrs Love. Far from it, sir Brilliant. were engaged in your panegyrie. We Lord Town. After those you have given me, madam, 'tis almost infamous to talk with you. Lady Town. I scorn your imputation, and your menaces. The narrowness of your heart's your monitor; 'tis there, there, my lord, you are wounded: you have less to complain of than many husbands of an equal rank to you. Lord Town. Death, madam! Do you presume upon your corporal merit, that your person's less tainted than your mind? Is it there, there alone, an honest husband can be injured? Have you not every other vice that can debase your birth, or stain the heart of woman? Is not your health, your beauty, husband, fortune, family disclaimed, for nights consumed in riot and extravagance? The wanton does no more; if she conceals her shame, does less: and sure the dissolute avowed, as sorely wrongs my honour and my quiet. Lady Town. I see, my lord, what sort of wife might please you. in the world, that keeps his misfortunes out of doors, than he that tamely keeps them within. Lady Town. I don't know what figure you may make, my lord; but I shall have no reason to be ashamed of mine, in whatever company I may meet you. Lord Town. Be sparing of your spirit, madam; you'll need it to support you. Enter LADY GRACE and MANLY. Mr Manly, I have an act of friendship to beg of you, which wants more apologies than words can make for it. Man. Then, pray, make none, my lord, that I may have the greater merit in obliging you. Lord Town. Sister, I have the same excuse to intreat of you, too. Lady Grace. To your request, I beg, my lord, Lord Town. Thus, then- -As you both were present at my ill-considered marriage, I Lord Town. Ungrateful woman! Could you now desire you each will be a witness of my dehave seen yourself, you, in yourself, had seen her termined separation-I know, sir, your good-na-I am amazed our legislature has left no prece- ture, and my sister's, must be shocked at the ofdent of a divorce for this more visible injury, fice I impose on you; but as I don't ask your this adultery of the mind, as well as that of the justification of my cause, so I hope you are conperson! When a woman's whole heart is alien-scious-that an ill woman can't reproach you, if ated to pleasures I have no share in, what is it to me, whether a black ace, or a powdered coxcomb, has possesion of it? Lady Town. If you have not found it yet, my lord, this is not the way to get possession of mine, depend upon't. Lord Town. That, madam, I have long despaired of; and, since our happiness cannot be mutual, 'tis fit, that, with our hearts, our persons, too, should separate. This house you sleep no more in though your content might grossly feed upon the dishonour of a husband, yet my desires would starve upon the features of a wife, Lady Town. Your style, my lord, is much of the same delicacy with your sentiments of ho nour. Lord Town. Madam, madam, this is no time for compliments-I have done with you. Lady Town. If we had never met, my lord, I had not broke my heart for it: but have a care; I may not, perhaps, be so easily recalled as you may imagine. Lord Town. Recalled! Whose there? Enter a Servant. Desire my sister and Mr Manly to walk up. [Exit. Lady Town. My lord, you may proceed as you please; but, pray, what indiscretions have I committed, that are not daily practised by a hundred other women of quality? Lord Town. 'Tis not the number of ill wives, madam, that makes the patience of a husband less contemptible: and though a bad one may be the best man's lot, yet, he'll make a better figure you are silent, on her side. Man. My lord, I never thought, till now, it could be difficult to oblige you. Lady Grace. [Aside.] Heavens, how I tremble! Lord Town. For you, my lady Townly, I need not here repeat the provocations of my parting with you the world, I fear, is too well informed of them-For the good lord, your dead father's sake, I will still support you as his daughter-As Lord Townly's wife, you have had every thing a fond husband could bestow, and (to our mutual shame I speak it) more than happy wives desire--But those indulgences must end; state, equipage, and splendour, but ill become the vices that misuse them-The decent necessaries of life shall be supplied-but not one article to luxury; not even the coach, that waits to carry you from hence, shall you ever use again. Your tender aunt, my lady Lovemore, with tears, this morning, has consented to receive you; where, if time and your condition bring you to a due reflection, your allowance shall be increased-but if you are still lavish of your little, or pine for past licentious pleasures, that little shall be less: nor will I call that soul my friend, that names you in my hearing. Lady Grace. My heart bleeds for her. [Aside. Lord Town. Oh, Manly, look there! turn back thy thoughts with me, and witness to my growing love. There was a time, when I believed that form incapable of vice, or of decay; there I proposed the partner of an easy home; there I, for ever, hoped to find a cheerful companion, an a greeable intimate, a faithful friend, a useful help-mate, and a tender mother-but, oh! how | firmed. Wild with that fame, I thought mankind bitter now the disappointment! Man. The world is different in its sense of happiness; offended as you are, I know you will still be just. Lord Town. Fear me not. Man. This last reproach, I see, has struck her. [Aside. Lord Town. No, let me not (though I this moment cast her from my heart for ever) let me not urge her punishment beyond her crimes-I know the world is fond of any tale that feeds its appetite of scandal: and, as I am conscious severities of this kind seldom fail of imputations too gross to mention, I here, before you both, acquit her of the least suspicion raised against the honour of my bed. Therefore, when abroad her conduct may be questioned, do her fame that justice. Lady Town. Oh, sister! [Turns to LADY GRACE, weeping. Lord Town. When I am spoken of, where, without favour, this action may be canvassed, relate but half my provocations, and give me up to [Going. Lady Town. Support me! save me! hide me from the world! censure. [Falling on LADY GRACE's neck. Lord Town. [Returning.] I had forgot meYou have no share in my resentment; therefore, as you have lived in friendship with her, your parting may admit of gentler terms than suit the honour of an injured husband. [Offers to go out. Man. [Interposing.] My lord, you must not, shall not leave her thus! One moment's stay can do your cause no wrong! If looks can speak the anguish of her heart, I'll answer with my life, there's something labouring in her mind, that, would you bear the hearing, might deserve it. Lord Town. Consider! since we no more can meet, press not my staying to insult her. Lady Town. Yet stay, my lord—the little I would say will not deserve an insult; and, undeserved, I know your nature gives it not. But as you've called in friends to witness your resentment, let them be equal hearers of my last reply. Lord Town. I shan't refuse you that, madam -be it so. Lady Town. My lord, you ever have complained I wanted love; but, as you kindly have allowed I never gave it to another; so, when you hear the story of my heart, though you may still complain, you will not wonder at my coldness. Lady Grace. This promises a reverse of tem[Apart. Man. This, my lord, you are concerned to hear. per. Lord Town. Proceed; I am attentive. Lady Town. Before I was your bride, my lord, the flattering world had talked me into beauty, which, at my glass, my youthful vanity con my slaves; I triumphed over hearts, while all my pleasure was their pain: yet was my own so equally insensible to all, that, when a father's firm commands enjoined me to make choice of one, I even then declined the liberty he gave, and to his own election yielded up my youthhis tender care, my lord, directed him to youOur hands were joined; But still my heart was wedded to its folly. My only joy was power, command, society, profuseness, and to lead in pleasures: The husband's right to rule, I thought a vulgar law, which only the deformed or meanly-spirited obeyed. I knew no directors, but my passions! no master, but my will! Even you, my lord, some time o'ercome by love, was pleased with my delights, nor then foresaw this mad misuse of your indulgence———-And, though I call myself ungrateful, while I own it, yet, as a truth, it cannot be denied that kind indulgence has undone me; it added strength to my habitual failings; and, in a heart thus warm, in wild unthinking life, no wonder if the gentler sense of love was lost. Lord Town. Oh, Manly! where has this creature's heart been buried? Man. If yet recoverable treasure! [Apart. -How vast the [Apart, Lady Town. What I have said, my lord, is not my excuse, but my confession; my errors (give them, if you please, a harder name) cannot be defended. No! What's in its nature wrong, no words can palliate, no plea can alter. What then remains in my condition, but resignation to your pleasure? Time only can convince you of my future conduct: therefore, till I have lived an object of forgiveness, I dare not hope for pardon-The penance of a lonely, contrite life, were little to the innocent; but, to have deserved this separation, will strow perpetual thorns upon my pillow. Lady Grace. Oh, happy, heavenly hearing! Lady Town. Sister, farewell! [Kissing_her.] Your virtue needs no warning from the shame that falls on me: but when you think I have atoned my follies past-persuade your injured brother to forgive them. Lord Town. No, madam! Your errors, thus renounced, this instant are forgiven! So deep, so due a sense of them, has made you what my utmost wishes formed, and all my heart has sighed for. Lady Town. [Turning to LADY GRACE.] HOW odious does this goodness make me! Lady Grace. How amiable your thinking so! Lord Town. Long parted friends, that pass through easy voyages of life, receive but common gladness at their meeting: but from a shipwreck saved, we mingle tears with our embraces! [Embracing LADY TOWNLY, Lady Town. What words, what love, what duty, can repay such obligations! |