Sir John. Robert, I will never live in a house honour. again that has two doors to it. Rob. Sir! Sir John. I will give warning to my landlord instantly. The eyes of Argus are not sufficient to watch the motions of a wife, where there is a street-door, and a back-door, to favour her escapes. Rob. Upon my word, sir, I wish-you will pardon my boldness, sir-I wish you would shake off this uneasiness that preys upon your spirits. It grieves me to the heart-it does, indeed, sir, to Sir John. Robert, I have considered you as a friend in my house: don't you betray me, too: don't attempt to justify her. Rob. Dear sir, if you will but give me leave: you have been an indulgent master to me, and I am only concerned for your welfare. You married my lady for love, and I have heard you so warm in her praise: why will you go back from those sentiments? Sir John. Yes, I married her for love-Oh! love! love! what mischief dost thou not occa Rob. Indeed, sir, I————— Rob. There is no persuading him to his own [Erit Roв. sion in this world? Yes, Robert, I married her |-there-there-there, the thing is evident: you for love. When first I saw her, I was not so may go in, Robert. much struck with her beauty, as with that air of an ingenuous mind that appeared in her countenance; her features did not so much charm me with their symmetry, as that expression of sweet-good. ness, that smile, that indicated affability, modesty, and compliance. But, honest Robert, I was deceived: I was not a month married, when I saw her practising those very smiles at her glass: I saw through the artifice; plainly saw there was nothing natural in her manner, but all forced, all studied, put on with her head-dress. I was alarmed; I resolved to watch her from that moment, and I have seen such things! Sir John. Gone towards the Horse Guards! My head aches; my forehead burns; I am cutting my horns. Gone towards the Horse Guards! I'll pursue her thither; if I find her, the time, the place, all will inform against her. Sir John! Sir John! you were a madman to marry such a wo[Exit. man. Enter BEVERLEY and BELLMONT, at opposite sides. Rob. Upon my word, sir, I believe you wrong her, and wrong yourself: you build on groundless surmises; you make yourself unhappy, and my lady, too; and, by being constantly uneasy, and never shewing her the least love, you'll forgive me, sir-you fill her mind with strange sus-brought us both into the Park: both come to picions, and so the mischief is done. Bev. Ha! My dear Bellmont? A fellow sufferer in love is a companion well met. Bel. Beverley, I rejoice to see you. Sir John. Suspicions, Robert? Rob. Yes, sir; strange suspicions! My lady finds herself treated with no degree of tenderness; she infers that your inclinations are fixed elsewhere, and so she is become-you will pardon my blunt honesty-she is become downright jealous-as jealous as yourself, sir. Bev. Well! I suppose the same cause bas sigh our amorous vows in the friendly gloom of yonder walk. Belinda keeps a perpetual war of love and grief, and hope and fear in my heart: and let me see-[Lays his hand on BELLMONT'S breast.]-how fares all here? I fancy my sister is a little busy with you? Bel. Busy! She makes a perfect riot there.— Not one wink the whole night. Oh! Clarissa, her form so animated! Her eyes so Sir John. Oh! Robert, you are little read in the arts of women; you little know the intrica- Bev. Prithee! truce; I have not leisure to atcies of their conduct; the mazes through which tend to her praise: a sister's praise, too! the they walk, shifting, turning, winding, running in-greatest merit I could ever see in Clarissa is, to devious paths, but tending all through a laby- | that she loves you freely and sincerely. rinth into the temple of Venus. You cannot see, that all her pretences to suspect me of infidelity, are merely a counter-plot to cover her own loose designs. It is but a gauze covering, though; it is seen through, and only serves to show her guilt the more. Bel. And, to be even with you, sir, your Belinda! upon my soul, notwithstanding all your lavish praises, her highest perfection, in iny mind, is her sensibility to the merit of my friend. Bev. Oh, Bellmont! Such a girl! But tell me honestly, now, do you think she has ever betrayed the least regard for me? Bel. How can you, who have such convincing proofs, how can you ask such a question? That uneasiness of yours, that inquietude of mind— Bev. Prithee, don't fix that character upon Rob. Upon my word, sir John, I cannot seeSir John. No, Robert; I know you cannot.Her suspicions of me all make against her; they are female stratagems; and yet, it is but too true, that she still is near my heart. Oh! Robert, Robert! When I have watched her at a play or elsewhere; when I have counted her oglings, Bel. It is your character, my dear Beverley: and her whisperings, her stolen glances, and her instead of enjoying the object before you, you artful leer, with the cunning of her sex, she has are ever looking back to something past, or conpretended to be as watchful of me: dissembling,jecturing about something to come, and are your false, deceitful woman! Rob. And yet, I dare assure you Sir John. No more; I am not to be deceived; Sir John. I am the best judge of that: which way did she go? Rob. Across the Park, sir; that way, towards the Horse Guards. Sir John. Towards the Horse Guards! There me. own self-tormentor. Bev. No, no, no: don't be so severe: I hate the very notion of such a temper: the thing is, when a man loves tenderly, as I do, solicitude and anxiety are natural; and, when Belinda's father opposes my warmest wishes Bel. Why, yes; the good Mr Blandford is willing to give her in marriage to me. Ber. The senseless old dotard! Bel. Thank you for the compliment! And my father, the wise sir William Bellmont on his hands, for we two have been agreeing what havock he has made with us. Bev. Is a tyrannical, positive, headstrongBel. There again I thank you. But, in short, the old couple, Belinda's father and mine, have both agreed upon the match. They insist upon compliance from their children; so that, according to their wise heads, I am to be married off hand to Belinda, and you and your sister, poorly Clarissa, are to be left to shift for yourselves. Bev. Racks and torments! Bel. Racks and torments! Seas of milk and ships of amber, man! We are sailing to our wished for harbour, in spite of their machinations. I have settled the whole affair with Cla Bev. Grace was in all her steps; heaven in her eye; in every gesture dignity and love. Belin. A poetical reception, truly! But cannot your passion inspire you to a composition of your own, Mr Beverley? Bev. It inspires me with sentiments, madam, which I cannot find words to express. Suckling, Waller, Landsdown, and all our dealers in loveverses, give but a faint image of a heart touched like mine. Belin. Poor gentleman! What a terrible taking you are in! But, if the sonneteers cannot give an image of you, sir, have you had recourse to a painter, as you promised me? Bev. I have, Belinda, and here-here is the humble portrait of your adorer. Belin. [Takes the picture.]-Well! there is a likeness; but, after all, there is a better painter than this gentleman, whoever he be. Bev. A better! Now she is discontented! [Aside.]-Where, madam, can a better be found? If money can purchase him Belin. Oh! sir, when he draws for money, he never suceeeds. But, when pure inclination prompts him, then his colouring is warm indeed. He gives a portrait that endears the original. Bev. Such an artist is worth the Indies! Belin. You need not go so far to seek him : he has done your business already. The limner I mean, is a certain little blind god, called Love, and he has stamped such an impression of you here Bev. Madam, your most obedient: and I can tell you, that the very same gentleman has been at work for you too. Bel. [Who had been talking apart with CLARISSA.]-Oh! he has had a world of business up Cla. Yes; but we are but in a kind of fool's paradise here: all our schemes are but mere castlebuilding, which your father, Mr Bellmont, and, my dear Belinda-yours, too, are most obstinatedetermined to destroy. Bel. Why, as you say, they are determined that I shall have the honour of Belinda's hand, in the country-dance of matrimony. Belin. Without considering that I may like another partner better. Bev. And without considering that I, forlorn as I am, and my sister, there, who is as well inclined to a matrimonial game of romps as any girl in Christendom, must both of us sit down, and bind our brows with willow, in spite of our strongest inclinations to mingle in the groupe. Belin. But we have planned our own happiness, and, with a little resolution, we shall be successful in the end, I warrant you. Clarissa, let us take a turn this way, and leave that love-sick pair to themselves: they are only fit company for each other, and we may find wherewithal to entertain ourselves. Cla. Let us try: turn this way. Bel. Are you going to leave us, Clarissa? Cla. Only just sauntering into this side-walk : we sha'nt lose one another. Belin. You are such a tender couple! you are not tired, I see, of saying pretty soft things to each other. Well, well! take your own way. Cla. And, if I guess right, you are glad to be left together? Belin. Who, I? Cla. Yes, you; the coy Belinda! Belin. Not I truly: let us walk together. Cla. No, no; by no means: you shall be indulged. Adieu! we shall be within call. [Exeunt BEL. and CLA. Bev. My sister is generously in love with Bellmont: I wish Belinda would act as openly towards me. [Aside. Belin. Well, sir! Thoughtful! I'll call Mr Bellmont back, if that is the case. Beo. She will call him back. Ber. Have I done any thing to offend you? Bev. I should have been of the party last night; I own I should; it was a sufficient inducement to me that you was to be there; it was my fault, and you, I see, are piqued at it. Belin. I piqued! Bev. I see you are; and the company per-pretation of my words and actions cannot be imceived it last night. I have heard it all: in mere proper. resentment you directed all your discourse to Mr Bellmont. Belin. If I did, it was merely accidental. Bev. No, it was deliberately done: forgive my rash folly in refusing the invitation: I meant no manner of harm. Belin. Who imagines you did, sir? Bev. I beg your pardon, Belinda: you take offence too lightly. Belin. Ha, ha! what have you taken into your head now? This uneasiness is of your own making: I have taken nothing ill, sir. Bev. You could not but take it ill; but by all that's amiable about you, I meant not to incur your displeasure: forgive that abrupt answer I sent: I should have made a handsomer apology. Belin. Apology! you was engaged, was not you? Bev. I said so; I own it, and beg your pardon- Belin. Beg my pardon! for what? Ha, ha! Belin. Ha, ha! can you think I see any thing in your message to be offended at, sir? Bev. I was wrong: I beg your pardon. Where you were concerned, I own I should have expressed myself with more delicacy, than those hasty words-I am engaged, and can't wait upon you to-night. I should have told that you my heart was with you, though necessity dragged me another way: this omission you resented. I could learn, since, what spirits you were in the the whole evening, though I enjoyed nothing in your absence. I could hear the sallies of your wit, the sprightliness of your conversation, and on whom your eyes were fixed the whole night. Belin. They were fixed upon Mr Bellmont, you think? Bev. Ay! and fixed with delight upon him, negociating the business of love before the whole company. Belin. Upon my word, sir, whoever is your author, you are misinformed. You alarm me with these fancies, and you know I have often told you, that you are of too refining a temper: you create for yourself imaginary misunderstandings, and then are ever entering into explanations. But this watching for intelligence, from the spies and misrepresenters of conversation, betrays strong symptoms of jealousy. I would not be married to a jealous man for the world. Bev. Now she's seeking occasion to break off. [Aside.]-Jealousy, madam, can never get admission into my breast. I am of too generous a temper: a certain delicacy I own I have; I value the opinion of my friends, and, when there are circumstances of a doubtful aspect, I am glad to set things in their true light. And if I do so with others, surely with you, on whom my happiness depends, to desire a favourable inter Belin. But these little humours may grow up, and gather into the fixed disease of jealousy at last. [LADY RESTLESS crosses the stage, and rings à bell at the door.] And there now-there goes a lady who is a victim to her own fretful imagination. Bev. Who is the lady, pray? Belin. My lady Restless. Walk this way, and I will give you her whole character. I am not acquainted with her ladyship, but I have heard much of her. This way. [Exeunt BELINda and Beverley. Lady Rest. [Ringing at the door.] What do these servants mean? There is something going forward here. I will be let in, or I will know the reason why. [Rings again.] But, in the mean time, sir John can let any body he pleases out at the street-door: I'll run up the steps here, and observe. [Exit. TATTLE opens the door, MARMALET follows her. Tat. Who rung this bell? I don't see any body; and yet I am sure the bell rung. Well, Mrs Marmalet, you will be going, I see? Mar. Yes, Mrs Tattle; I am obliged to leave you. I'll step across the Park, and I shall soon reach Grosvenor-Square. When shall I see you at our house? Tat. Heaven knows when I shall be able to get out: my lady leads us all such lives! I wish I had such another place as you have of it. Mar. I have nothing to complain of. Tat. No, that you have not: when shall I get such a gown as that you have on, by my lady? She will never fling off such a thing, and give it to a poor servant! Worry, worry, worry herself, and every body else, too. an acquaintance of mine, madam; as good a kind of body as any at all. Lady Rest. Oh! very fine, mistress! you bring your creatures after the vile man, do you? Mar. I assure you, madam, I am a very honest girl. Lady Rest. Oh! I dare say so. you get that gown? Where did Mar. La, madam! I came by it honestly; my lady Conquest gave it to me. I live with my lady Conquest, madam. Lady Rest. What a complexion she has How long have you lived in London? Mar. Three years, madam. Lady Rest. In London three years with that complexion! it can't be perhaps, she is painted: all these creatures paint. You are all so many painted dolls. [Rubs her face with a white handkerchief] No, it does not come off. So, Mrs Tattle, you bring fresh country girls here to my house, do you? Tat. Upon my credit, madam Lady Rest. Don't tell me! I see through this affair. Go you about your business, mistress, and let me never see you about my doors again: go, go your ways. Mar. Lord, madam! I shan't trouble your house. Mrs Tattle, a good-day. Here's a deal to-do, indeed! I have as good a house as hers to go to, whatever she may think of herself. [Exit. Lady Rest. There, there, there! see there! she goes off in a huff! the way with them all. Ay! I see how it is, Tattle: you false, ungrateful-that gown was never given her by a woman; she had that from sir John. Where is sir John? Tat. Sir John an't at home, madam. will have it in our marriage articles, that I must not be plagued with your suspicions. Bev. I subscribe, madam. Belin. I will have no inquiries where I am going to visit: no following me from place to place and if we should chance to meet, and you should perceive a man of wit, or a pretty fellow, speaking to me, I will not have you fidgetting about on your chair, knitting your brow, and looking at your watch- My dear, is it not time to go home? my love, the coach is waiting :and, then, if you are prevailed upon to stay, I will not have you converse with a 'Yes, sir,' and a 'No, sir,' for the rest of the evening, and then wrangle with me in the carriage all the way home, and not be commonly civil to me for the rest of the night. I, positively, will have none of this. Bev. Agreed, madam; agreed Belin. And you shan't tell me you are going out of town, and then steal privately to the play, or to Ranelagh, merely to be a spy upon me. I positively will admit no curiosity about my letters. If you were to open a letter of mine, I should never forgive you. I do verily believe, if you were to open my letters, I should hate you. Bev. I subscribe to every thing you can ask. You shall have what female friends you please; lose your money to whom you please; dance with what beau you please; ride out with whom you please; go to what china-shop you please; and, in short, do what you please, without my attempting to bribe your footmen, or your maid, for secret intelligence. Belin. Oh, lud! Oh, lud! that is the very strain of jealousy. Deliver me! there is my father yonder, and sir William Bellmont with him. Fly this instant! fly, Mr Beverly, down that Lady Rest. Where is he? Where is he gone? walk; any where. When did he go out? Tat. I really don't know, madam. Lady Rest. Tattle, I know you fib, now. But I'll sift this to the bottom. I'll write to my lady Conquest to know the truth about that girl, that was here but now. Tat. You will find I told you truth, madam. Lady Rest. Very well, Mrs Pert. I'll go, and write this moment. Send Robert, to give me an account of his master. Sir John, sir John, you will distract me. [Exeunt. Re-enter BELINDA and BEVERLEY. Belin. Ay! but that quickness, that extreme sensibility, is what I am afraid of. I positively would not have a jealous husband for the world. Bev. By Heaven! no earthly circumstance shall ever make me think injuriously of you. Jealousy! ha, ha, ha! it is the most ridiculous passion! ha, ha! Belin. You may laugh, sir; but I know your over refining temper too well; and I absolutely Bev. You promise, then Belin. Don't talk to me now: what would you be at? I am yours, and only yours, unalterably so. Fly! begone! leave me this moment. Bev. I obey: I am gone. [Exit. Belin. Now, they are putting their wise heads together to thwart all my schemes of happiness but love, imperious love, will have it otherwise. Enter MR BLANDFORD and SIR WILLIAM Bland. Sir William, since we have agreed upon every thing Sir Wil. Why yes, Mr Blandford, I think every thing is settled. Bland. Why, then, we have only to acquaint the young people with our intentions, and so conclude the affair without delay. Sir Wil. That is all, sir. Bland. As to my girl, I don't mind her non |