pray come back, my dear---I am afraid my behaviour is rather too abrupt---Perhaps, too, it may displease you. Celia. I can be displeased with nothing from you, sir; and am ready to obey you, be your commands what they will. Sir John. Commands, Celia !----That's a hard word. Celia. I am sorry it offends you. is to be married to my sister to-morrow or next day! Celia. I knew it was so intended; but his behaviour this morning, and the intercessions of my mother, had, I own, won upon me strangely; and induced me to believe that I only was the object of his pursuit. Sir John. I am thunderstruck! Celia. My mother made me clearly perceive, Sir John. You know best, Celia, whether it that the completion of his marriage would be an ought to offend me---would I could read the sen-injury to Araminta. She told me, too, sir, that timents of your heart! Mine are but too apparent-In short, my dear, you know the purport of your father's will---dare you fulfil it? Celia. To the minutest circumstance--It is my duty. Sir John. Ah, Celia! that word duty destroys the obligation. Celia. Sir! Sir John. I don't know how it is, but I am afraid to ask you the only question, which, sincerely answered, could make me happy---or miserable. [Half aside. Celia. Let me beg of you, sir, to ask it freely. Sir John. Well, then-is your heart your own!---O Celia! that hesitation confirms my fears. You cannot answer in the affirmative; and have too much humanity for what I feel, to add to my torments---Good God !---and is it possible, that an acquaintance of a few days should entirely obliterate the attentive assiduity, the tender anxieties, which I have shewn for years? --but I understand it all too well. Mine were the awful, though heart-felt attentions of a parent his, the sprightly address of a presuming lover. His easy assurance has won upon your affections; and, what I thought my greatest merit, has undone me. Celia. You were so good, sir, a little while ago, to pity my confusion; pity it now; and, whilst I lay my heart open before you, be again that kind, that generous friend, which I have always found you. Sir John. Go on. Celia. It is in vain for me to dissemble an ignorance of your meaning; nor would I, if I could. I own I have been too much pleased with Mr Modely's conversation. Sir John. Modely's! Celia. Let me go on. His intended marriage with Araminta gave him a freedom in this family, which it was not my business to restrain. His attention to my mother, and the friendly manner in which he executed some commissions of consequence to her, gave him frequent opportunities of talking to me. I will confess, too, that his appearance and his manner struck me. But I was so convinced of his real passion for Araminta, that I never dreamt of the least attachment to me, till you yourself would be my adviser in the affair, and even persuade me to accept it. Sir John. O, the malicious woman! Celia. In that, indeed, I perceive she greatly erred. And I only mean this as a confession of what is past, and of what is now at an end for ever. For the future, I give myself to your guidance alone, and am what you direct [Giving her hand to him. Sir John. Thou amiable softness! No, Celia; however miserable I may be myself, I will not make you so; it was your heart, not your hand, I aspired to. As the former has been se duced from me, it would be an injustice to us both, to accept of the latter. As to Mr Modely, and lady Beverley, I have not deserved this treachery from them, and they shall both feel my resentment. Celia. Sir! Sir John. She told me, indeed, there was a favoured lover; and my suspicions fell very naturally upon Belmour. Nay, even now, nothing but that lovely sincerity-which undoes me-could make me credit this villainy of Modely. O Celia! what a heart have I lost! Celia. You cannot, shall not lose it; worthless as it is, 'tis yours, and only yours, my father, guardian, lover, husband! [Hangs upon him, weeping. Enter ARAMINTA. Ara. Hey-day! what a scene is here! What is the matter with ye both? Sir John. O sister! that angel goodness, that mirror of her sex, has ruined me. Ara. Ruined you! how? Sr John. Nay, I am not the only sufferer: Modely is false to you, as her mother is to all of us. Ara. I don't understand you. Sir John. You will too soon. My suspicions of Belmour were all a chimera; it is your impious Modely who has possession of her heart.To me she is lost irrecoverably.Ara. Stay, brother! Sir John. I cannot; my soul's too full. [Going. [Exit. Ara. Pray, Miss Beverley, what is the meaning Sir John.Till what, when-Modely? Why, he of all this? Celia. I cannot speak [Throwing herself into a chair. Ara. I'll be hanged if this fellow Modely has not talked you into an opinion, that he is in love with you. Indeed, my dear, your youth and inexperience may lead you into strange scrapes; and that mother of yours is enough to turn any girl's head in the universe. Come, come, unriddle this affair to me. Celia. Alas, madam! all I know is, that the only man I ever did, or ever can esteem, despises me, and, I fear, hates me. Ara. Hates you! he doats upon you to distraction. But, pray, did Modely ever make any serious addresses to you? Celia. Alas! but too often. Ara. The hypocrite! but I'll be even with him. And your mother, I suppose, encouraged bim? An infamous woman! But I know her drift well enough Enter LADY BEVERLEY. Lady Bev. Where is my poor girl? I met sir John Dorilant in such a furious way, that he seems to have lost all common civility. What have they done to you, child? Ara. Done to her? What has your ladyship done to her? I knew your little artifices long ago, but Lady Bev. My artifices, Araminta ! Ara. Your artifices, lady Beverley; but they are all to no purpose; the girl has too good an understanding to be imposed on any longer; and your boasted machinations are as vain and empty in their effects, as in their contrivance. Lady Bev. What does the woman mean? But the loss of a lover, I suppose, is an excuse for ill-breeding. Poor creature! if the petulancy of thy temper would let me, I could almost pity thee. The loss of a lover is no agreeable thing; but women at our time of life, Mrs Araminta, must not expect a lasting passion. Ara. Scarce any at all I believe, if they go a wooing themselves. For my part, I have had the satisfaction of being solicited, however.— And I am afraid my rustic brother never gave your ladyship's solicitations even the slightest encouragement. How was it? Did you find him quite hard hearted? No bowels of compassion for so accomplished a damsel ? Celia. [Interposing.] Dear madam! dear Araminta! Lady Bev. Stand away, child-Desert, madam, is not always attended with success; nor confidence neither. There are some women so assured of their conquest, as even to disgust a lover on the very day of marriage. Ara. Was my behaviour ever such? Lady Bev. I really cannot say, Mrs Araminta; but the world, you know, is censorious enough, when a match is broken off so near its conclusion, generally to charge the inconstancy of the lover to some defect of his mistress. Ara. I defy him to produce any. Lady Bev. And yet he has certainly left you; never, never to return! Ara. Insolent! Celia. [Interposing.] Dear Araminta! Ara. But your ladyship may be mistaken even in that, too. I may find him at his solicitations again; and if I do~ Lady Bev. You'll take him. Ara. Take him?-Daggers and poison sooner. Lady Bev. Poor creature! Come, Celia, words do but aggravate her misfortune. We only disturb her. You see, my dear, what are the effects of too violent a passion. It may be a lesson for your future conduct. Ara. Look you, lady Beverley, don't provoke me. Lady Bev. Why, what will ye do? Celia. [Interposing.] For Heaven's sake, madam Lady Bev. I fancy, Mrs Araminta, instead of quarrelling, we had better join forces. If we could but get the girl out of the way, we might both succeed. Ara. You are a wicked woman. Lady Bev. Poor creature! shall I say any thing to my cousin Modely for you? You know I have weight with him. Ara. Yes, madam; you may tell him that his connections with you have rendered him ridiculous; and that the revenge of an injured woman is never contemptible. [Exit. Lady Bev. [Leading off CELIA on the other side.] Poor creature! Coine along, child. [Exeunt. SCENE I.-Continues. Enter SIR JOHN DORILANT. ACT IV. Sir John. This fatal spot, which draws me to it almost involuntarily, must be the scene of another interview. Thank Heaven, I have recovered myself. Nor shall any misery which I may suffer, much less any prospect of a mean revenge, make me act unbecoming my character. Enter ARAMINTA. Ara. Well, brother, I hope you are resolved to marry this girl? Sir John. Marry her, my dear Araminta! Can you think it possible, that I should have so pre- Stew. Nay, 'tis not my interest, but your hoposterous a thought? No, my behaviour shall de-nour's. Though that, indeed, I may call my interest, for I am sure I love your honour. serve, but not over-rule, her inclinations. Were I to seize the tender opportunity of her present disposition, the world would ascribe it to her fortune; and I am sure my deceased and valuable friend, however kindly he meant to me in this affair, never intended that I should make his daughter unhappy. Ara. But I tell you she loves you; and you must, and shall marry her. Sir John. Ah, sister, you are willing to dispose of her any way. That worthless lover of yours still hangs about your heart, and I have avoided seeing him on your account, as well as Celia's. Ara. To shew how mistaken you are in all this, I have given him up totally. I despise, and hate him; nay, I am upon the brink of a resolution to give myself to another.-[SIR JOHN shakes his head.]-I am, I assure you; his friend, Mr Belmour, is by no means indifferent on the subject. Sir John. And is this revenge on yourself, a proof of your want of passion for him?-Ah, Araminta! Come, come, my dear; I own I think him unworthy of you, and would resent his usage to the utmost, did not I clearly perceive that it would appear mercenary in myself, and give real pain both to you and Celia. Sir John. I know thou dost, Jonathan; and I am too hasty-but leave me now. If the gentleman will do me the favour of staying all night, I may satisfy him in the morning. My head and heart are too full now, for any business which concerns my fortune. [Exit SIR JOHN. Stew. Something goes very wrong with my poor master. Some love nonsense or other, I suppose. I wish all the women were in the bottom of the sea, for my part. [Exit Steward. Enter LADY BEVERLEY and CELIA. Lady Bev. I thought it requisite, sir John, as I heard you had something of importance to transact with my daughter, to wait upon you with her. Sir John. Was that necessary, madam? I begged the favour of Miss Beverley's company only. Lady Bev. But a mother, you know, sir John, who has a tender concern for her child Sir John. Should shew it on every occasion. Lady Bev. I find, sir John, there is some misunderstanding at present, which a woman of prudence and experience might be much better consulted upon, than a poor young thing, whose Sir John. Not at all, madam; Celia has all the prudence I require, and our present conver Ara. I actually don't know what to say to you. Sir John. You had better say nothing. Your spirits, at present, are too much alarmed. I have sent for Celia hither; a short hour may determine the fate of all of us. I know my honoura-sation will soon be over. ble intentions will give her great uneasiness. But it is my duty which exacts them from me. You had better take a turn or two in some other part of the garden: I see my steward coming this way; I may want your assistance but too [Exit ARA. soon. Enter the Steward. Have you brought these papers I bade you look for? Stew. Yes, sir. But there is the gentleman within to wait upon your honour, concerning the estate you intended to purchase. It seems a mighty good bargain, Sir John. I cannot speak to him now. Stew. Your honour always used to be punctual. Sir John. Alas! Jonathan, I may be punctual again to-morrow. Give me the papers. Did Miss Beverley say she would come to me? Stew. Immediately, sir. But I wish your honour would consider, such bargains as these do not offer every day. Sir John. Heigh ho! Stew. It joins so conveniently, too, to your honour's own estate-within a hedge, as I may Lady Bev. Nay, sir John, to be sure I am not afraid of trusting my daughter alone with you.A man of your discretion will undoubtedly be guilty of no impropriety. But a third person, sometimes, where the parties concerned are a little too much influenced by their passions, has occasioned very substantial, and very useful effects. I have known several instances of it, in the course of my experience. Sir John. This, madam, will not be one of them. How teasing? [Walking aside. Lady Bev. I find, sir John, that you are determined to have your own way, and therefore will shew you, by my behaviour, that I know what good manners require; though I do not always meet with the same treatment from other people. [Exit LADY Bev. Sir John. Now, Celia, we are alone, and I have many excuses to make to you for the im→ passioned sallies of our late conversation, which I do most sincerely-Can you pardon them? Celia. Alas! sir, 'tis I who ought to entreat pardon. Sir John. Not in the least, madam; I have no blame to cast upon you for any part of your conduct. Your youth and inexperience, joined to the goodness of your heart, are sufficient apolo terruption, madam, when I find you thus a lone Celia. [Rising.I would choose to be alone. Celia. [After a little pause.]-In short, Mr Modely, your behaviour to me, of late, is what I can by no means approve of. It is unbecoming your character as a man of honour; and would be a stain to the ingenuous modesty of my sex for me to suffer. Mode. You surprise me, madam! Can the adoration of an humble love—the timid advance of a man, whom your beauty has undone, be such unpardonable offences? gies for any shadow of indiscretion which might Mode. [Catching hold of her, and falling on his knees.]-Nay, madam, you must not leave me. Celia. Rise, sir, or I am gone this moment. I thought of flying from you, but my soul disdains Know, then, sir, that I am mistress of myself; mistress of my fortune; and may bestow my hand wherever my heart directs it. Mode. My angel! [Coming eagerly up to her. Celia. What do you mean? Mode. That you may make the most sincere of Celia. My tears and my confusion have hi- lovers the happiest of mankind. The addition therto hindered me from answering; not the in- of your fortune will add splendour to our felicividious suggestion, which you have so cruellyty; and the frowns of disappointed love only charged me with. What friend, what lover have heighten our enjoyments. 1, to engross my attentions? I never had but one, and he has cast me off for ever. O, sir, give me the papers, and let me return them where my soul longs to place them. Sir John, No, Celia; to accept them again would impeach the justice of my whole proceeding. It would make it look like the mean artifice of a mercenary villain, who attempted to gain, by stratagem, what his merits did not entitle him to. I blush to think of it. I have performed my office. Be mistress of yourself, and let me fly from a combat to which I find myself unequal. [Exit SIR JOHN. [CELIA sits down, leaning her hand on her head. Enter MODELY and BELMOUR, Mode. Hist! Hist! He has just left her, and in a fine situation for my approaches. If you are not yet, satisfied, I will make up all differences with you another time. Get into the arbour, and be a witness of my triumph. You shall see me, like another Cæsar-Come, see, and overcome. Celia. Oh, thou vile one! how does that cruel, generous man, who has rejected me, rise on the comparison! Mode. Rejected you!-Sir John Dorilant! Celia. Yes, Mr Modely, that triumph, at least, is yours. I have offered myself, and been refused. My hand and fortune equally disdained. But may perpetual happiness attend him, whereever his honest, honest heart shall fix ! Mode. O, madam, your inexperience deceives you. He knows the integrity of your mind, and trusts to that for recompense. His seeming disinterestedness is but the surer method of completing his utmost wishes. Celia. Blasphemer, stop thy tongue! The purity of his intentions is as much above thy malice, as thy imitation. [She walks to one side of the stage, and MODELY stands disconcerted on the other. Enter LADY BEVERLEY. Lady Bev. Well, child, what has the man said to thee? Cousin Modely, your servant! you find our plot would not take; they were too quick upon [BEL. goes into the arbour.us. Hey day! what has been doing here? Mode. [Comes forward, walks two or three Mode. O, madam, you are my only refuge! a turns by her, bowing as he passes, without being wretch, on the brink of despair, flies to you for taken notice of, then speaks.]—If it is not an in-protection. That amiable creature is in ful VOL. II. 5 M possession of herself and fortune, and yet rejects my tenderest solicitations. Lady Bev. Really! What is all this? Tell me, Celia, has the man actually given up all right and title to thee, real and personal? Come, come; I must be a principal actress, I find, in this affair. Decency and decorum require it. Tell me, child, is it so? Celia. Sir John Dorilant, madam, with a generosity peculiar to himself, (cruel generosity!) has cancelled every obligation which could confine my choice. These papers confirm the freedom he has given me and rob me of all future comfort. Lady Bev. Indeed! I did not expect this of him; but I am heartily glad of it. Give me the papers, child. Celia. No, madam: useless as they are, they are yet my own. Lady Bev. Useless!-What do you mean? Has the base man laid any other embargo on the child? Celia. I cannot bear, madam, even from you, to hear sir John Dorilant treated with disrespect. Useless!-Yes, they shall be useless. Thus, thus, I tear them into atoms! and disdain a liberty, which but too justly reproaches my conduct.Your advice, madam, has already made me miserable; but it shall not make me ungrateful or unjust. [Exit CELIA. Lady Bev. I am astonished! I never saw the girl in such a way before.-Why, this is arrant disobedience, cousin Modely! I must after her, and know the bottom of it.-Don't despair. Ara. Agreeable rascal! [Aside.]-Be quiet, can't you; you think one so forward, now. Mode. I cannot, will not be restrained, when the dear object of my wishes meets me with kind compliance in her eyes and voice!-To-morrow!---'Tis an age-why should we wait for that? To-night, my angel! to-night may make us one; and the fair prospect of our halcyon days even from this hour begin. Ara. Who would not think this fellow, with his blank verse now, was in earnest? But I know him thoroughly. [Aside.]-Indeed, Mr Modely, you are too pressing; marriage is a serious thing. Besides, you know, this idle bustle betwixt my brother and Celia, which you seem to think me ignorant of, and which you, in some measure, though undesignedly, I daresay, have occasioned, may obstruct us a little. Mode. Not at all, my dear; an amusement en passant; the mere raillery of gallantry on my side, to oblige her impertinent mother (who, you know, has a penchant for sir John herself) was the whole insignificant business.— -Perhaps, indeed, I was something blameable in it. Ara. Why, really, I think so, in your situation. But are you sure it went no further?--nothing else passed between you? Mode. Nothing in nature. Ara. Dear me, how mistaken people are! I cannot say that I believed it; but they told me, that you had actually proposed to marry her; that the girl was near consenting; and that the mother was your friend in the affair. [Exit LADY BEVERLEY.dy Bel. [Coming out of the arbour.] Come, sce, overcome!-O poor Cæsar! Mode. [Humming a tune.] You think I disconcerted now? am Bel. Why, really, I should think something of that kind. Mode. You never were more mistaken in your life. Egad! 'tis a spirited girl. She and sir John Dorilant were certainly born for one another. I have a good mind to take compassion of them, and let them come together. They must and shall be man and wife, and I will e'en go back to Araminta. Bel. Thou hast a most astonishing assurance! Mode. Hush!--She is coming this way!-get into your hole again, and be dumb.-Now you shall see a scene of triumph indeed. Bel. Have a care, Cæsar! you have the Britons to deal with. [Retires. Enter ARAMINTA. Ara. What are they gone, and my wretch here by himself? O that I could dissemble a little! I will, if my heart bursts for it.——O, Mr Modely, I am half ashamed to see you! but my brother has signed those odious writings! Mode. Then, thus I seize my charmer! Mode. The mere malice and invention of laBeverley. Ara. And there is not a word of truth in it, then? Mode. Not a syllable—You know my soul is yours. Ara. O thou villain!-I thought to have kept my temper, and to have treated you with the contempt you deserve; but this insolence is intolerable!--Can you imagine that I am a stranger to your proceedings? a deaf, blind idiot ?--O, 1 could tear this foolish heart, which, cheated by its passion, has encouraged such an insult !— How, how have I deserved this treatment? [Bursting into tears. Mode. [Greatly alarmed.] By holy faith! by every power above! you, and you only, are the passion of my soul!--May every curse Ara. Away, deceiver! these tears are the tears of resentment.--My resolution melts not in my eyes. 'Tis fixed unalterably! You might ima gine, from the gaiety of my temper, that it had its levity, too: But know, sir, that a woman, who has once been duped, defies all future machina tions. |