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angry

me to practise ! I see my folly, and fear that have had an admirable effect, and so don't be you can never forgive me.

with

your physician. Oak. Forgive you You are too good, my Mrs Oak. I am indeed obliged to you, and I love ! -Forgive you !Can you forgive me? - feel This change transports me

Brother! Mr Rus- Oak. Nay, my dear, no more of this. All that's set! Charles ! Harriot! give me joy!-- I am past must be utterly forgotten. the happiest man in the world.

Mrs Oak. I have not merited this kindness, Maj. Joy, much joy to you both! though, by but it shall, hereafter, be my study to deserve it. the by, you are not a little obliged to me for it. Away with all idle jealousies! And since my Did not'I tell you I would cure all the disorders suspicions have hitherto been groundless, I am an your family? I beg pardon, sister, for taking resolved for the future never to suspect at all. the liberty to prescribe for you. My medicines

(Ereunt omnes. have been somewhat rough, I believe, but they

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SceneA garden belonging to Sir John DORILANT's house in the country, with an arbour, gar

den-chairs, fc

ACT I.

SCENE I.— A garden.

Mode. And am not I here now, expressly to

marry you? Enter ARAMINTA with an affected carelessness,

Ara. Why, that, too, is true-but-you are in and knotting ; Modely following. love with Cælia. Mode. But, madam !

Mode. Bless me, madam, what can I say to Ara. But, sir ! what can possibly have alarm- you? If it had not been for my attendance upon ed you thus? You see me quite unconcerned. I you, I had never known Cælia, or her mother only tell you in a plain, simple, narrative manner either—though they are both my relations. The -(this plaguy thread)--and merely by way of mother has since indeed put some kind of conficonversation, that you are in love with Cælia; dence in me-she is a widow, you know and where is the mighty harm in all this?

Ara. And wants consolation! The poor orMlode. The harm in it, madam! have I not phan, too, her daughter !_Well, charity is an told you a thousand and a thousand times, that excellent virtue. I never considered it in that you were the only woman who could possibly light before. You are vastly charitable, Mr make me happy!

Modely. Ara. Why, aye, to be sure you have, and Mode. It is impossible to talk with you.- If sworn a thousand and a thousand oaths to con- you will not do me justice, do it to yourself, at firin that assertion.

least. Is there any comparison betwixt you and

meant.

you, take

my

Cælia? Could any man of sense hesitate a mo- | for the future, and act the lover to Araminta ten ment? She has yet no character. One does not times stronger than ever. One would not give know what she is, or what she will be; a chit- her up till one was sure of succeeding in the a green girl of fourteen or fifteen.

other place. Ara. Seventeen, at least.- -(I cannot undo this kpot.)

Enter Belmour from behind, with a book in his

Would Mode. Well, let her be seventeen.

hand. any man of judgment attach himself to a girl of Bel. Ha, ha, ha! Well said, Modely! that age? On my soul, if one was to make love Mod. (Starting.] Belmour !-how the deuce to her, she would hardly understand what one came you bere?

Bel. How came I here !-Ilow came you here, Ara. Girls are not quite so ignorant as you if you come to that? A man can't retire from may imagine, Mr Modely ; Cælia will understand the noise and bustle of the world, to admire the

word for it, and does understand Leatities of the spring, and read pastoral in an you. As to your men of judgment and sense, arbour, but iinpertinent lovers must disturb his here is my brother, now ;— 1 take him to be full meditations. Thou art the arrantest hypocrite, as reasonable as yourself, and somewhat older; Modely-

[Throwing away the book. and yet, with all his philosophy, he has brought Mod. Hypocrite !--- My dear friend, we men of himself to a determination at last, to fulfil the gallantry must be so.

But have a care! we may father's will, and marry this green girl. I am have other listeners for aught I know, who may sorry to tell you so, Mi Modely, but he will cer- not be so proper for confidants. [Looking aboul. tainly marry her.

Bel. You may be easy on that head. We have Miode. Let him marry her. I should perhaps the garden to ourselves. The widow and her do it myself, if I was in his place. He was an daughter are just gone in, and sir John is busy intimate friend of her father's. She is a great with his steward. fortune, and was given to him by will. But do Mod. The widow, and her daughter! Why, you imagine, my dear Araminta, that if he was were they in the garden? left to his own choice, without any bias, he would Bel. They just came into it; but upon seeing not rather have a woman nearer his own years? you and Araminta together, they turned back He might almost be her father.

again. Ara. That is true. But you will find it diffi- Mode. On seeing me and Araminta ! I hope I cult to persuade me, that youth in a woman is so have no jealousies there, too. Ilowever, I am insurmountable an objection. I fancy, Mr Mode- glad Cælia knows I am in the garden, because it ly, it may be got over. Suppose I leave you to may probably induce her to fall in my way--by think of it.-(I cannot get this right.) [Going chance, you know, and give me an opportunity

Mode. Stay, dear Araniinta! why will you of talking to her. plague me thus? Your own charms, my earnest- Bel. Do you think she likes you? ness, might prove to you

Mode. She does not know what she does. Ara. I tell you I don't want proofs.

Bel. Do you like her? Mode. Well, well, you shall have none, then. Mode. Why, faith, I think I do. But give me leave to hope, since you have done Bel. Why, then, do you pursue your affais me the honour to be a little uneasy on my ac- with Araminta ; and not find some honourable

means of breaking off with her? Ara. Uneasy !-I uneasy! What does the man Mode. That might not be quite so expedient. mean?-I was a little concerned, indeed, to give I think Araminta the finest woman, and Cælia you uneasiness by informing you of my brother's the prettiest girl, I know. Now, they are both intended marriage with Cælia. But-this shut- good fortunes, and one of thein I ain resolved to tle bends so abominably.-[Aside.]

have, but which Mode. Thou perplexing tyrant! Nay, you

shall Bel. Your great wisdom has not yet deternot go. May I continue to adore you? you must mined. Thou art undoubtedly the vainest fellow not forbid me that.

living. I thought you brought me down here now Ara. For my part, I neither command nor to your wedding? forbid any thing. Only this I would have you Mode. 'Egad, I thought so, too; but this remember, I have quick eyes. Your servant.- plaguy little rustic has disconcerted all my schemes. I wish this kuotting bad never come in fashion. Sir John, you know, by her father's will, may (Aside.]

[Exit Ana. marry her if he pleases, and she forfeits her esMode. Quick eves, indeed! I thought my cun- tate if she inarries any one else. Now, I am ning here had been a master-piece. The girl contriving to bring it about, that I may get her, cannot have told, sure! and the mother is en- and her fortune, too. tirely on my side. They certainly were those in- Bel. A very likely business, truly. So you quisitive eyes she speaks of, which have found modestly expect that sir John Dorilant should out this secret. Well, I must be more cautious give up his mistress, and then throw her fortune

count

are.

ness,

me.

into the bargain, as an additional reward to the Mode. You will have an admirable opportuniobliging man who has seduced her from him? ty to-night: we are to have the fiddles, you know,

Mode. Hun! why, I don't expect quite that. and you may dance with her. But, you know, Belmour, he is a man of honour, and would not force her inclinations, though he

When music softens, and when dancing fires ! loved her to distraction.--Come, come, he is Eh! Bellmour? quite a different creature from what you and I Bel. You are vastly kind to sir John, and

would ease him, I find, of both his mistresses. Bel. Speak for yourself, good sir; yet, why But, suppose this man of honour should be fool shonld you imagine that her inclinations are not enough to resign his mistress, may not another as likely to fix upon him as you? He has a good kind of honour oblige him to run you through the person, and is scarce older than yourself. body for deserting his sister?

Mode. That shews your ignorance; I am ten 1. lode. Why, faitis, it may. However, it is not years younger than he is. My dress, and the the first duel I have fought oa such an occasion ; company I keep, give a youth and vivacity to me, so I am his man. Not that it is impossible but which he must always want. An't I a man of he may have scruples there, too. the town? () that town, Belmour ! Could I but Bel. You don't think him a coward? have met these ladies there, I had done the busi- Alode. I know he is not. But your reasoning

men have strange distinctions. They are quite Bel. Were they never there?

different creatures, as I told you, from you and Mode. Never. -Sir Harry Beverley, the father of this girl, lived always in the country, and di- 3el. You are pleased to compliment. But, vided his time between his books and his hounds. suppose now, as irrational as you think me, I His wife and daughter seldom mixed with people should find out a means to make this whole afof their own rank, but at a horse-race, or a rural fair easy to you? visit. And see the effects! The girl, though she Modé. How do you mean? is naturally genteel, has an air of simplicity. Bel. No: by attacking the widow, but by Bel. But does not want sense.

making my addresses, in good earnest, to AraMode. No, no! She has a devilish deal of that minta. kind of sense, which is acquired by early reading. Mode. I forbid that absolutely. I have heard her talk occasionallv, like a queen Bel. What, do you think it possible I should in a tragedy; or, at least, like a sentimental lady succeed after the accomplished Mr Modely? in a comedy, much above your misses of thirty in Mode. Why, faith, between you and me, Į town, I assure you. As to the mother—but she think not; but I don't chuse to hazard it. is a character, and explains herself.

Bel. Then you love her still? Bel. Yes, yes; I have read her. But pray, Mode. I confess it. how came it to pass, that the father, who was of Bei. And it is nothing upon earth but that ina different way of thinking in regard to party, satiable vanity of yours, with a little tincture of should have left sir John guardian to his daugh- avarice, that leads you a gadding thus ? ter, with the additional clause, too, of her being P.lode. I plead guilty. But, be it as it will, I obliged to marry him?

am determined to pursue my point. And see, Mode. Why, that is somewhat surprising. But where the little rogue comes most opportunely. the truth of the case was, they were thoroughly I told you she would be here. Go, go, Belmour acquainted, and each considered party as the - you must not listen to all my love scenes.-foible of the other. Sir Harry thought a good (Exit Bel.}-Now for a serious face, a little uphusband his danghter's best security for happi- on the tragic; young girls are mighty fond of ness; and he knew it was impossible sir Johu despairing lovers. Dorilant should prove a bad one.

Enter CÆlia. Bel. And yet this prospect of happiness would you destroy?

Celia. [With an affected surprise.)-Mr ModeMode. No, no; I only see farther than sir . ly !-Are you here?-I am come to meet my Harry did, and would increase that happiness, by mamma-1 did not think to meet you here. giving her a better husband.

Mode. Are you sorry to find me here, maBel. Oh! your hunble servant, sir.

dam? Mode. Besides, the mother is entirely in my Celia. Why should I bé sorry, Mr Modely? interest, and, by the by, has a hankering after Mode. May I hope you are pleased with it? sir John herself. He is a saber man, and should Celia. I have no dislike to company. have a woman of discretion for his wife; not a Mode. But is all company alike? Surely one Hovdening girl. 'Egad, Belmour, suppose you at- would choose one's companions. Would it have tacked the widow ? the woman is young enough, ben the same thing to you, if you had met sir and has an excellent jointure.

John Dorilant here? Bel. And so become your father-in-law? Celiu. I should be very ungrateful, if I did not

ones.

like sir John Dorilant's company. I am sure ! | lities. But I hope you will acquaint Araminta have all the obligations in the world to him, and instantly with this change in your inclinations, so had my poor papa.

[Sighing. · Mode. I would do it, but dare not. Mode. Whatever were your papa's obligations, Celia. You should break it first to sir John. his gratitude, I am sure, was unbounded. O that Mode. My difficulty does not lie in the breakI had been his friend !

ing it; but, if I confess my passion at an end, I Celia. Why should you wish that, Mr Mode- must no longer expect admittance into this family? You would have had a great loss in bim. ly, and I could still wish to talk to Celia as a

Mode. I believe I should. But I might like friend. wise have had a consolation for that loss, which Celia. Indeed, Mr Modely, I should be loth would have contained in it all earthly happiness. myself to lose your acquaintance; but-0 here Celia. I don't understand you.

comes my mamma! she may put you in a meMode. He might have left bis Celia to me. thod. Celia. Dear, how you talk !

Enter LADY BEVERLEY. Mode. Talk, madam! Oh, I could talk for ever, would you but listen to my heart's soft lan- Lady Bev. In any method, my dear, which deguage, nor cruelly affect to disbelieve when I decency and reserve will permit. Your servant, clare I love you.

cousin Modely. What, you are talking strangely Celia. Love me, Mr Modely? Are you not in to this girl now?- you men! love with Araminta?

Mode. Your ladyship knows the sincerity of Mode. I once thought I was.

my passion here. Celia. And do lovers ever change?

Celiu. [1Vith surprise.]-Knows your sinceMode. Not those who feel a real passion.— rity? But there are false alarms in love, which the un- Lady Bev. Well, well; what signifies what I practised heart sometimes mistakes for true know? You were mentioning some method I was

to put you in. Celia. And were yours such for Araminta? Celia. Mr Modely, madam, has been confesMode. Alas! I feel they were.

sing to me that he no longer loves Araminta. (Looking earnestly at her. Lady Bev. Hum!-Why, such things may hapCelia., You don't intend to marry her then, I pen, child. We are not all able to govern our hope?

affections. But I hope if he breaks off with her, Mode. Do you hope I should not marry her? he will do it with decer. y.

Celia. To be sure I do. I would not have the Mode. That, madam, is the difficulty. poor lady deceived, and I would willingly have a Lady Bev. What! Is it a difficulty to be debetter opinion of Mr Modely, than to believe bim cent? Fie, fie, Mr Modely. capable of making false protestations.

Mode. Far be it from me even to think so, Mode. To you he never could.

madain, before a person of your ladyship's reCelia. To me ?-I am out of the question.- served behaviour. But, considering how far I But I am sorry for Araminta, for I believe she have gone in the affairloves you.

Lady Bel. Well, well, if that be all, I may, Mode. If you can pity those who love in vain, perhaps, help you out, and break it to sir John why am not I an object of compassion? myself-Not that I approve of roving affections,

Celia. Dear Mr Modely, why will you talk I assure you. thus? My hand, you know, is destined to sir John Mode. You bind me ever to you. But there Dorilant, and iny. duty there does not even per- is another cause, which you alone can promote, mit me to think of other lovers.

and on which my eternal happiness— Mode. Happy, happy man! Yet give me leave Lady Bev. Leave us-leave us, cousin Modeto ask one question, madam. I dread to do it, ly. I must not hear you talk in this extravagant though my last glimpse of happiness depends up- manner.

:-(Pushing him towards the scene, and on your answer.

then aside to him. I shall bring it about better Čeliu. What question ? Nay, pray speak, I en- { in your absence. Go, go, man; go.—[E.rit Modetreat it of you.

LY.]-A pretty kind of fellow, really. Now, CeMode. Then tell me, lovely Celia, sincerely lia: come nearer, child; I have something of imtell me, were your choice left free, and did it de- portance to say to you. What do you think of pend upon you only, to determine who should be that gentleman? the master of your affections, might I expect one Celia. Of Mr Modelv, madam? favourable thought?

Lady Ber. Ay, Mr Modely, my cousin Modely: Celia. (After some hesitation.]-It-it does Celia. Think of him, madam? not depend upon me.

Ludy Bev. Ay, think of him, child; you are Miode. I know it does not, but if it did? old enough to think, sure, after the education I

Celia. Come, come, Mr Modely, I cannot talk have given you. Well, what answer do you upon this subject. Impossibilities are impossibi- make?

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