Cælia? Could any man of sense hesitate a mo- -(I cannot undo Would Mode. Well, let her be seventeen. any man of judgment attach himself to a girl of that age? On my soul, if one was to make love to her, she would hardly understand what one meant. you. Ara. Girls are not quite so ignorant as you may imagine, Mr Modely; Cælia will understand you, take my word for it, and does understand As to your men of judgment and sense, here is my brother, now ;-I take him to be full as reasonable as yourself, and somewhat older; and yet, with all his philosophy, he has brought himself to a determination at last, to fulfil the father's will, and marry this green girl. I am sorry to tell you so, Mr Modely, but he will certainly marry her. Mode. Let him marry her. I should perhaps do it myself, if I was in his place. He was an intimate friend of her father's. She is a great fortune, and was given to him by will. But do you imagine, my dear Araminta, that if he was left to his own choice, without any bias, he would not rather have a woman nearer his own years? He might almost be her father. for the future, and act the lover to Araminta ten times stronger than ever. One would not give her up till one was sure of succeeding in the other place. Enter BELMOUR from behind, with a book in his hand. Bel. Ha, ha, ha! Well said, Modely! Mod. [Starting.] Belmour!-how the deuce came you here? Bel. How came I here!-How came you here, if you come to that? A man can't retire from the noise and bustle of the world, to admire the Leauties of the spring, and read pastoral in an arbour, but impertinent lovers must disturb his meditations. Thou art the arrantest hypocrite, Modely[Throwing away the book. Mod. Hypocrite !---My dear friend, we men of gallantry must be so. But have a care! we may have other listeners for aught I know, who may not be so proper for confidants. [Looking about. Bel. You may be easy on that head. We have the garden to ourselves. The widow and her daughter are just gone in, and sir John is busy with his steward. Mod. The widow, and her daughter! Why, were they in the garden? Bel. They just came into it; but upon seeing you and Araminta together, they turned back 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. However, 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 Araminta! why will you of talking to her. plague me thus? Your own charms, my earnestness, might prove to you Ara. I tell you I don't want proofs. Mode. Well, well, you shall have none, then. But give me leave to hope, since you have done me the honour to be a little uncasy on my ac count Ara. Uneasy!-I uneasy! What does the man mean?--I was a little concerned, indeed, to give you uneasiness by informing you of my brother's intended marriage with Cælia. But-this shuttle bends so abominably.-[Aside.] Mode. Thou perplexing tyrant! Nay, you shall not go. May I continue to adore you? you must not forbid me that. Ara. For my part, I neither command nor forbid any thing. Only this I would have you remember, I have quick eyes. Your servant.I wish this knotting had never come in fashion. [Aside.] [Exit ARA. Mode. Quick eyes, indeed! I thought my cunning here had been a master-piece. The girl cannot have told, sure! and the mother is entirely on my side. They certainly were those inquisitive eyes she speaks of, which have found out this secret. Well, must be more cautious Bel. Do you think she likes you? Mode. Why, faith, I think I do. Bel. Why, then, do you pursue your affair with Araminta; and not find some honourable means of breaking off with her? Mode. That might not be quite so expedient. I think Araminta the finest woman, and Cælia the prettiest girl, I know. Now, they are both good fortunes, and one of them I am resolved to have, but which Bel. Your great wisdom has not yet determined. Thou art undoubtedly the vainest fellow living. I thought you brought me down here now to your wedding? Mode. 'Egad, I thought so, too; but this plaguy little rustic has disconcerted all my schemes. Sir John, you know, by her father's will, may marry her if he pleases, and she forfeits her estate if she marries any one else. Now, I am contriving to bring it about, that I may get her, and her fortune, too. Bel. A very likely business, truly. So you modestly expect that sir John Dorilant should give up his mistress, and then throw her fortune. into the bargain, as an additional reward to the obliging man who has seduced her from him? Mode. Hum! why, I don't expect quite that. But, you know, Belmour, he is a man of honour, and would not force her inclinations, though he loved her to distraction.-Come, come, he is quite a different creature from what you and I are. Bel. Speak for yourself, good sir; yet, why shonld you imagine that her inclinations are not as likely to fix upon him as you? He has a good person, and is scarce older than yourself. Mode. That shews your ignorance; I am ten years younger than he is. My dress, and the company I keep, give a youth and vivacity to me, which he must always want. An't I a man of the town? O that town, Belmour! Could I but have met these ladies there, I had done the busi ness. Bel. Were they never there? Mode. Never.Sir Harry Beverley, the father of this girl, lived always in the country, and divided his time between his books and his hounds. His wife and daughter seldom mixed with people of their own rank, but at a horse-race, or a rural visit. And see the effects! The girl, though she is naturally genteel, has an air of simplicity. Bel. But does not want sense. Mode. No, no! She has a devilish deal of that kind of sense, which is acquired by early reading. I have heard her talk occasionally, like a queen in a tragedy; or, at least, like a sentimental lady in a comedy, much above your misses of thirty in town, I assure you. As to the mother-but she is a character, and explains herself. Bel. Yes, yes; I have read her. But pray, how came it to pass, that the father, who was of a different way of thinking in regard to party, should have left sir John guardian to his daughter, with the additional clause, too, of her being obliged to marry him? Mode. Why, that is somewhat surprising. But the truth of the case was, they were thoroughly acquainted, and each considered party as the foible of the other. Sir Harry thought a good husband his daughter's best security for happiness; and he knew it was impossible sir Johu Dorilant should prove a bad one. Bel. And yet this prospect of happiness would you destroy? When music softens, and when dancing fires! Eh! Bellmour? Bel. You are vastly kind to sir John, and would ease him, I find, of both his mistresses.But, suppose this man of honour should be fool enough to resign his mistress, may not another kind of honour oblige him to run you through the body for deserting his sister? Mode. Why, faith, it may. However, it is not the first duel I have fought on such an occasion; so I am his man. Not that it is impossible but he may have scruples there, too. Bel. You don't think him a coward? Mode. I know he is not. But your reasoning men have strange distinctions. They are quite different creatures, as I told you, from you and me. Bel. You are pleased to compliment. But, suppose now, as irrational as you think me, I should find out a means to make this whole affair easy to you? Mode. How do you mean? Bel. Not by attacking the widow, but by making my addresses, in good earnest, to Araminta. Mode. I forbid that absolutely. Bel. What, do you think it possible I should succeed after the accomplished Mr Modely? Mode. Why, faith, between you and me, I think not; but I don't chuse to hazard it. Bel. Then you love her still? Mode. I confess it. Fel. And it is nothing upon earth but that insatiable vanity of yours, with a little tincture of avarice, that leads you a gadding thus? Mode. I plead guilty. But, be it as it will, I am determined to pursue my point. And see, where the little rogue comes most opportunely. I told you she would be here. Go, go, Belmour -you must not listen to all my love scenes.→→ [Exit BEL.-Now for a serious face, a little upon the tragic; young girls are mighty fond of despairing lovers. [ Enter CALIA. Celia. [With an affected surprise.]-Mr Mode Mode. No, no; I only see farther than sirly!—Are you here?-I am come to meet my Harry did, and would increase that happiness, by giving her a better husband. Bel. Oh! your humble servant, sir. Mode. Besides, the mother is entirely in my interest, and, by the by, has a hankering after sir John herself. He is a sober man, and should have a woman of discretion for his wife; not a hoydening girl. 'Egad, Belmour, suppose you attacked the widow? the woman is young enough, and has an excellent jointure. Bel. And so become your father-in-law? mamma-1 did not think to meet you here. Mode. Are you sorry to find me here, madam? Celia. Why should I be sorry, Mr Modely? Mode. May I hope you are pleased with it? Celia. I have no dislike to company. Mode. But is all company alike? Surely one would choose one's companions. Would it have been the same thing to you, if you had met sir John Dorilant here? Celia. I should be very ungrateful, if I did not like sir John Dorilant's company. I am sure Ilities. 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, his gratitude, I am sure, was unbounded. O that I had been his friend! Celia. Why should you wish that, Mr Modely? You would have had a great loss in him. Mode. I believe I should. But I might likewise have had a consolation for that loss, which would have contained in it all earthly happiness. Celia. I don't understand you. Mode. He might have left his Celia to me. Celia. Dear, how you talk! Mode. Talk, madam! Oh, I could talk for ever, would you but listen to my heart's soft language, nor cruelly affect to disbelieve when I declare I love you. Celia. Love me, Mr Modely? Are you not in love with Araminta? Mode. I once thought I was. Celia. You should break it first to sir John. Mode. My difficulty does not lie in the breaking it; but, if I confess my passion at an end, I must no longer expect admittance into this family, and I could still wish to talk to Celia as a friend. Celia. Indeed, Mr Modely, I should be loth myself to lose your acquaintance; but-O here comes my mamma! she may put you in a me thod. Enter LADY Beverley. Lady Bev. In any method, my dear, which decency and reserve will permit. Your servant, cousin Modely. What, you are talking strangely to this girl now?-O you men! Mode. Your ladyship knows the sincerity of my passion here. Celia. [With surprise.]-Knows your since Celia. And do lovers ever change? ones. Celia. And were yours such for Araminta? [Looking earnestly at her. Celia. You don't intend to marry her then, I hope? Mode. Do you hope I should not marry her? Celia. To be sure I do. I would not have the poor lady deceived, and I would willingly have a better opinion of Mr Modely, than to believe him capable of making false protestations. Mode. To you he never could. Celia. To me?-I am out of the question.But I am sorry for Araminta, for I believe she loves you. Mode. If you can pity those who love in vain, why am not I an object of compassion? Celia. Dear Mr Modely, why will you talk thus? My hand, you know, is destined to sir John Dorilant, and my duty there does not even permit me to think of other lovers. Mode. Happy, happy man! Yet give me leave to ask one question, madam. I dread to do it, though my last glimpse of happiness depends up on your answer. Čelia. What question? Nay, pray speak, I entreat it of you. Mode. Then tell me, lovely Celia, sincerely tell me, were your choice left free, and did it depend upon you only, to determine who should be the master of your affections, might I expect one favourable thought? Celia. [After some hesitation.]-It-it does not depend upon me. Mode. I know it does not, but if it did? Celia. Come, come, Mr Modely, I cannot talk upon this subject. Impossibilities are impossibi Lady Bev. Well, well; what signifies what I know? You were mentioning some method I was to put you in. Celia. Mr Modely, madam, has been confessing to me that he no longer loves Araminta. Lady Bev. Hum!-Why, such things may happen, child. We are not all able to govern our affections. But I hope if he breaks off with her, he will do it with decery. Mode. That, madam, is the difficulty. Lady Bev. What! Is it a difficulty to be decent? Fie, fie, Mr Modely. Mode. Far be it from me even to think so, madain, before a person of your ladyship's reserved behaviour. But, considering how far I have gone in the affair Lady Bel. Well, well, if that be all, I may, perhaps, help you out, and break it to sir John myself Not that I approve of roving affections, I assure you. Mode. You bind me ever to you. But there is another cause, which you alone can promote, and on which my eternal happiness Lady Bev. Leave us-leave us, cousin Modely. I must not hear you talk in this extravagant manner. [Pushing him towards the scene, and then aside to him.-I shall bring it about better in your absence. Go, go, man; go.-[Erit MODELY.]—A pretty kind of fellow, really. Now, Celia: come nearer, child; I have something of importance to say to you. What do you think of that gentleman? Celia. Of Mr Modely, madam? Lady Bev. Ay, Mr Modely, my cousin Modely: Celia. Think of him, madam?" Lady Bev. Ay, think of him, child; you are old enough to think, sure, after the education I have given you. Well, what answer do you make? Celia. I really don't understand your ladyship's question. Lady Bev. Not understand me, child? Why, I ask you how you like Mr Modely? What you should think of him as a husband? Celia. Mr Modely as a hnsband! Why, surely, madam, sir John Lady Bev. Fiddlefaddle, sir John! sir John knows better things than to plague himself with a wife in leading-strings. Celia. Is your ladyship sure of that? Lady Bev. O ho! Would you be glad to have me sure of it? Celia. I don't know what I should be glad of. I would not give sir John a moment's pain to be mistress of the whole world. Lady Bev. But if it should be brought about without giving him pain. Hey! Celia—— [Patting her cheek with her fan. Celia. I should be sorry for it. Celia. For then he must think lightly of me. Lady Bev. What does the girl mean? Come, come, I must enter roundly into this affair. Here, here, sit down, and tell me plainly and honestly, without equivocation or reservation, is Modely indifferent to you? Nay, nay-look me in the face; turn your eyes towards me. One judges greatly by the eyes, especially in women. Your poor papa used to say that my eyes reasoned better than my tongue. Well, and now tell me, without blushing, is Modely indifferent to you? Celia. I fear he is not, madam, and it is that which perplexes me. Lady Bev. How do you feel when you meet him? Celia. Fluttered. Lady Bev. Hum! While you are with him? Lady Bev. Hum! When you leave him? Lady Bev. Strong symptoms truly! Celia. When sir John Dorilant talks to me, my heart is softened, but not perplexed. My esteem, my gratitude overflows towards him. I consider him as a kind father, with all the tenderness, without the authority. Lady Bev. But when Mr Modely talks? Celia. My tranquillity of mind is gone; I am pleased with hearing what I doubt is flattery, and when he grasps my hand Lady Bev. Well, well, I know all that. Be decent, child. You need say no more. Mr Modely is the man. [Rising. Celia. But, dear madam, there are a thousand obstacles. I am afraid sir John loves me; I am sure he esteems me, and I would not forfeit his esteem for the universe. I am certain I can make him an affectionate and an humble wife, and I think I can forget Mr Modely. Lady Bev. Forget a fiddle! Don't talk to me of forgetting. I order you, on your duty, not to forget. Mr Modely is, and shall be, the man.You may trust my prudence for bringing it about. I will talk with sir John instantly. I know what you are going to say, but I will not hear a word of it. Can you imagine, Celia, that I shall do any thing but with the utmost decency and decorum? Celia. I know you will not, madam; but there are delicacies Lady Bev. With which I am unacquainted to be sure, and my daughter must instruct me in them! Pray, Celia, where did you learn this nicety of sentiments? Who was it that inspired them? Celia. But the maxims of the world Lady Bev. Are altered, I suppose, since I was of your age. Poor thing, what world hast thou seen? Notwithstanding your delicacies and your maxims, sir John, perhaps, may be wiser than you imagine, and choose a wife of somewhat more experience. Celia. May he be happy wherever he chooses-But, dear madam Lady Bev. Again? don't make me angry. I will positively not be instructed. Ay, you may well blush. Nay, no tears. Come, come, Celia, I forgive you. I had idle delicacies myself once. Lard! I remember when your poor papa-he, he, he-but we have no time for old stories.What would you say now, if sir John himself should propose it, and persuade the match, and yet continue as much your friend as ever, nay, become more so, a nearer friend? Celia. In such a case, madam Lady Bev. I understand you, and will about it instantly. B'ye, Celia; O how its little heart flutters! [Exit. Celia. It does, indeed. A nearer friend? I hardly know whether I should wish her success or not-Sir John is so affectionate. Would I. had never seen Mr Modely!- Araminta, too! what will she say? O, I see a thousand bad consequences. I must follow her, and prevent them. [Exit, SCENE I.-Continues. Enter LADY BEVERLEY and MODELY, ACT II. If she is really all this, how happy must the man be, who can engage her affections! But, alas! Araminta, in every thing which regards me, it is duty, not love, which actuates her behaviour.— She steals away my very soul by her attentions; but never once expresses that heart-felt tender. Lady Bev. PRITHEE, don't tease me so; I Yow, cousin Modely, you are almost as peremptory as my daughter. She, truly, was teaching me decorum just now, and plaguing me with her de-ness, those sympathetic feelingslicacies, and her stuff. I tell you, sir John will be in the garden immediately, this is always his hour of walking; and when he comes, I shall lay the whole affair before him, with all its concatenation of circumstances, and, I warrant you, bring it about. Mode. I have no doubt, madam, of the transcendency of your ladyship's rhetoric; it is on that I entirely rely. But I must beg leave to hint, that Araminta already suspects my passion, and should it be openly declared, would undoubtedly prevail, that instant, with her brother to forbid me the house. Lady Bev. Why, that might be Mode. And though I told your daughter I did not care how soon it came to an eclaircissement; yet a woman of your ladyship's penetration and knowledge of the world, must see the necessity of concealing it, at least for a time. I beg pardon for offering what may have even the distant appearance of instruction. But it is sir John's delicacy which must be principally alarmed with apprehensions of her disregard for him; and I am sure your ladyship's manner of doing it, will shew him where he might much better place his affections, and with an undoubted prospect of happiness. Ara. Ha, ha, ha! O my stars! Sympathetic feelings! Why, would you have a girl of her age have those sympathetic feelings, as you call them? If she had, take my word for it, she would coquette it with half the fellows in town, before she had been married a twelvemonth.Besides, sir John, you don't consider that you was her father's friend; she has been accustomed, from her infancy, to respect you in that light; and our father's friends, you know, are always old people, greybeards, philosophers, enemies to youth, and the destruction of gaiety. Sir John. But I was never such. Ara. You may imagine so; but you always had a grave turn. I hated you once myself. Sir John. Dear Araminta! Ara. I did, as I hope to live; for many a time has your aversion to dancing hindered me from having a fiddle. By the by, remember we are to have the fiddles to-night. But let that pass. As the case now stands, if I was not already so near akin to you, you have the temper in the world which I should choose in a husband. Sir John. That is obliging, however. Ara. Not so very obliging, perhaps, neither. It would be merely for my own sake; for, then, would I have the appearance of the most obediLady Bev. Ay, now you talk to the purpose-ent, sympathetic wife in the universe, and yet be But stay, is not that sir John coming this way? It is, I vow, and Araminta with him. We'll turn down this walk, and reason the affair a little more, and then I will come round the garden upon him. [MODELY takes her hand to lead her out. You are very gallant, cousin Modely. [Exeunt. Enter SIR JOHN DORILANT and ARAMINTA, Ara. What do you drag me into the garden for? We were private enough where we wereand I hate walking. Sir John. Forgive me, my dear sister: I am restless every where; my head and heart are full of nothing but this lovely girl. Ara. My dear, dear brother, you are enough to spoil any woman in the universe. I tell you, again and again, the girl is a good girl, an excellent girl, and will make an admirable wife. You may trust one woman in her commendations of another; we are not apt to be too favourable in our judgments, especially when there is beauty in the case. Sir John. You charm me, when you talk thus. as despotic in my government as an eastern monarch. And when I grew tired, as I probably should do, of a want of contradiction, why, I should find an easy remedy for that, too; I could break your heart in about a month. Sir John. Don't trifle with me; 'tis your serious advice I want; give it me honestly as a friend, and tenderly as a sister. Ara. Why, I have done it fifty times. What can I say more?. If you will have it again, you must. This, then, it is, in plain terms. But you are sure you are heartily in love with her? Sir John. Pshaw ! Ara. Well, then, that we will take for granted; and now you want to know what is right and proper for you to do in the case. Why, was I in your place, I should make but short work with it. She knows the circumstances of her father's will; therefore, would I go immediately to her, tell her how my heart stood inclined, and hope she had no objections to comply, with what it is not in her power to refuse. Sir John. You would not have me talk thus abruptly to her? |