Julia. Dear Manly, I thank you for this rebuke-it brings me back to myself-something must be allowed to the fond agitation of a woman's fears-but they are gone; Love himself, unfriendly as he is to truth, yet smiles propitiously upon a slow obedience to it at last.Meet me at one, in the avenue before our house, and then with more safety to my Henry, as well as more security to our enterprise, I will resign myself and all my hopes to your faithful guidance. -- Y. Man. Dearest Julia, on my knees I thank you— I am oppressed at once with love and gratitude-It is needless to say with what anxious vigilant punctuality I will obey your mandate-with what idolatry of submissive affection, I will watch over every rising thought, and half-formed object of your future life. [Rises.] From this moment, then, dismiss all apprehension of your Henry's levity, and be satisfied that Julia. I am satisfied-Surely, I have proved I am so -But interesting as your conversation always is, and on this theme fraught with peculiar endearment, I must deprive myself of it-You must go-pray obey me now-My turn for obedience approaches fast. Remember. Y. Man Can I forget the consecrated moment! Adieu, ever dearest, till then. Julia. Adieu, dear Manly. [Exeunt. Scene III.-Lord Dartford's House. ·Enter LORD DARTFORD, followed by JENKINS. Lord D. Jenkins, does Sir William know of my arrival here? Jen. He does, my lord. Lord D. Well, I suppose I must pay the first visit→→ But hold, should not I brush up my style a little, to enable me to undergo this encounter of genealogy? No -I believe there is no occasion; the secret lies in a short compass-Pedigree's the word-and one of your real accurate lovers of historical virtû-will believe any thing-And so, we'll trust to chance and the assistance of such convenient absurdities as may happen to arise [A knocking at the door.]-But see who's there, Jenkins. [JENKINS goes, and introduces SIR WILLIAM WINngrove. Sir Will. I hope, my lord, my presence, thus unannounced, does not interrupt any of your lordship's weightier concerns. Lord D. It is impossible that the favour of Sir William Wingrove's company can ever be felt as an intrusion. Sir Will. Your lordship is kindness itself-[They sit down.] It is a doubtful point with me, my lord, in the alliance which is upon the eve of accomplishment, by which party the honour will be given or received. for Lord D. So he's off already-there's but one way me-I should ill deserve my good fortune, Sir William, were I not sensible that the honour and the happiness are both eminently mine. Sir Will. Why, my lord, that is by no means a clear case-I perceive that your lordship possesses a very competent knowledge of the antiquity of our family; but to deal candidly with you, I believe yours takes its rise nearly about the same time-pretty nearly; that is to say-I mean within a century of us, or some such trifle-I dare say it does; for the Dartford family may be very clearly traced to the conquest. Lord D. The conquest, Sir William, is modern-It is not long since I perused a valuable manuscript, that makes very honourable mention of the Wingroves, in one of the remoter reigns of the Saxon Heptarchy. Sir Will. Could your lordship procure me a sight of that manuscript? The favour will be infinite. Lord D. Sir William may rely upon it, that if my friend can be prevailed upon to resign the parchment, I shall be happy in promoting his wish. [Aside.] And if he does, his politeness must positively be of a most accommodating cast, to enable him to part with what he never had. Sir Will. In one of the remoter reigns of the Saxon Heptarchy Is it possible! But why not possible?—To what times may not the family of the Wingroves be traced by the laudable diligence of learned inquiry? Even up to the dark periods of early nature, of rudeness, ignorance, and barbarity, where Knowledge fails us, and History herself is lost in the confusion of her [Muses. materials. Lord D. Now will he not be content till he has pursued his high birth to the illustrious parentage of a savage, and drawn the boasted stream of his pure blood from the polluted leavings of the deluge. Sir Will. Now, my lord, to business-The fifty thousand pounds which I purpose as my daughter's dower, is but a small, and indeed inadequate, compensation for the honour of your dignified alliance-Happy, but too happy, should we all feel ourselves, if her inclinations accorded with our wishes, and acquiesced in the brilliant provision we have made for her-But she is perverse, my lord, unaccountably perverse-Yet submit she shall, and that without delay-I am fixed, immutably fixed -But if your lordship will do me the honour to accompany me to my house, I will there explain to your lordship the difficulties we have to encounter, and the expedients we have provided to overcome them-Nay, my lord [Contending on the etiquette of precedency. Lord D. Impossible, Sir William! mere title is adventitious, birth inherent. [Exeunt. Scene IV-The Road, with a distant View of Sir William Wingrove's House. Enter YOUNG MANLY, singing. Y. Man. Was there ever such a happy, unlucky dog as myself-happy beyond the narrow bounds of mortal imagination in the love of my Julia-but horribly unlucky, that the certainty and near approach of my felicity has quite bereft me of my senses.-Just as I had abandoned myself to despair, to be raised in one delicious half-hour to the summit of-Oh! egad there's no bearing it! I shall run mad-I am mad, that's certain. [Sings and dances. Enter ADMIRAL CLEVELAND. Admiral. So, so-there's young Frolicsome in his whirligigs-What, 'Squire Madcap, are you practising 'how to make a fool of yourself?-Don't take so much trouble, young man; you can succeed pretty well without so much pains. Y. Man. Ha! my old man of war-give me your hand-When shall you and I go upon a voyage to the Adm. To the moon, eh! young Freshwater? Why, you seem to be in her latitude already; or have you been stowing in a fresh lading of champaign? Y.Man. Your first conjecture is perhaps a little near the mark; for my understanding, I believe, is rather upon the go; but as for champaign-curse champaign. Adm. What then you have been in a tight engagement at play, and have brought the enemy to-Aʼnt that it, my young shark ? Y. Man. No, no, my heart of oak; I defy the power of gold to disorder my senses- -But, what do you think, my noble commander, of gaining the woman one loves? Can your old weather-beaten fancy conceive any joy equal to that? Adm. Why, I don't think I can; unless it be seeing an enemy's ship strike; and that does give the senses a whirl that none but a seaman can be a judge of. Y. Man. Why then, as I am a stranger to naval sensations, the pleasure of being beloved by an angel, must serve my turn.-When conquer'd beauty prepares to yield-when willing love strikes the flag-that's the whirl for my money. Adm. Well, that's good-natured, however, to rejoice at the thoughts of an engagement, where you are sure to have the worst on't. Y. Man. Dear admiral, had I but known you when I was a boy! Adm. What then? Y. Man. Then ? Do you ask me what then? Oh, Julia! My soul hath her consent so absolute, That not another comfort like to this Succeeds in unknown fate." Adm. Poor young man !-Well, my lad, when your wits are at anchor, though I fear the vessel's too crazy ever to see port again, you and I may drink a can together till then, your servant. Y. Man. Nay, nay, don't go yet. [Dancing. Adm. Why, d--n you, you vere about so, one might as well look for anchorage in a whirlpool, as think to hold a parley with you. Y Man. Well, come then, I will be serious-Do you ever pray at sea, admiral? Adm. Why, what should we pray for? Except, indeed, when there's danger in the wind, and then, to be sure, that alters the case. Y. Man. Well, now, there lies your error. 1 |