THE

RIVALS.

ACT I.

Scene I.-A Street at Bath.

COACHMAN crosses the stage.-Enter FAG, looking after

him.

WHAT! Thomas! Sure 'tis he! -What! Thomas!

Thomas!

Coachm. Hey! odd's life!-Mr. Fag! give us your hand, my old fellow servant!

Fag. Excuse my glove, Thomas; I'm devilish glad to see you, my lad! why, my prince of charioteers, you look as hearty!--but who the deuce thought of seeing you in Bath?

Coachm. Sure, Master, Madam Julia, Harry, Mrs. Kate, and the postillion, be all come.

Fag. Indeed!

Coachm. Ay: master thought another fit of the gout was coming to make him a visit, so he'd a mind to g'it the slip, and whip! we were all off at an hour's warning.

Fag. Ay, ay; hasty in every thing, or it would not be Sir Anthony Absolute.

Coachm. But tell us, Mr. Fag, how does young Master? Odd, Sir Anthony will stare, to see the Captain here!

Fag. I do not serve Captain Absolute now.
Coachm. Why, sure!

Fag. At present, I am employed by Ensign Beverley. Coachm. I doubt, Mr. Fag, you han't changed for

the better.

Fag. I have not changed, Thomas.

Coachm. No! why, didn't you say, you had left young Master?

Fag. No. Well, honest Thomas, I must puzzle you no further;-briefly then-Captain Absolute and Ensign Beverley are one and the same person.

Coachm. But, pray, why does your master pass only for ensign?-now, if he had shammed general, indeed

Fag. Ah, Thomas! there lies the mystery o' the matter!-Harkye, Thomas, my master is in love with a lady of a very singular taste-a lady, who likes him better as a half-pay ensign, than if she knew he was son and heir to Sir Anthony Absolute, a baronet of three thousand a year.

Coachm. That is an odd taste, indeed! but has she got the stuff, Mr. Fag? is she rich, eh?

Fag. Rich! why, I believe, she owns half the stocks! -Z- -s, Thomas, she could pay the national debt, as easily as I could my washerwoman !-She has a lapdog that eats out of gold-she feeds her parrot with small pearls, and all her thread-papers are made of bank notes!

Coachm. Bravo, 'faith!-Odd! I warrant she has a set of thousands, at least; but does she draw kindly with the Captain?"

Fag. As fond as pigeons.

Coachm. May one hear her name?

Fag. Miss Lydia Languish.-But there is an old tough aunt in the way-though, by the by, she has never seen my master for he got acquainted with Miss while on a visit in Gloucestershire.

Coachm. Well, I wish they were once harnessed together in matrimony. But, pray, Mr. Fag, what kind

of a place is this Bath? I ha' heard a great deal of it ;-here's a mort o' merry making, eh?

Fag. Pretty well, Thomas, pretty well-'tis a good lounge-but d-n the place, I'm tired of it; their regular hours stupify me-not a fiddle or a card after eleven! however, Mr. Faulkland's gentleman and I keep it up a little in private parties;-I'll introduce you there, Thomas, you'll like him much.-But, Thomas, you must polish a little-indeed you must :-Here, now, this wig! what, the devil, do you do with a wig, Thomas? none of the London whips, of any degree of ton, wear wigs now.

Coachm. More's the pity, more's the pity, I sayOdds life! when I heard how the lawyers and doctors had took to their own hair, I thought how 'twould go next. Odd rabbit it! when the fashion had got foot on the bar, I guessed 'twould mount to the box! but 'tis all out of character, believe me, Mr. Fag: and lookye, I'll never gi' up mine, the lawyers and doctors may do as they will.

Fag. Well, Thomas, we'll not quarrel about that.

Coachm. Why, bless you, the gentlemen of they professions ben't all of a mind,-for in our village now, thoff Jack Gauge, the exciseman, has ta'en to his carrots, there's little Dick, the farrier, swears he'll never forsake nis bob, though all the college should appear with their own heads!

Fag. Indeed! well said, Dick! but hold, markmark, Thomas!

Coachm. Zooks, 'tis the captain! Is that the lady with him?

Fag. No, no; that is Madam Lucy, my master's mistress's maid; they lodge at that house-but I must after him, to tell him the news.

Coachm. Odd, he's giving her money!-Well, Mr. Fag-

Fag. Good b'ye, Thomas; I have an appointment in Gyde's porch this evening at eight; meet me there, and we'll make a little party. [Exeunt, severally.

Scene II-A Dressing Room in MRS. MALAPROP'S Lodgings.

LYDIA LANGUISH sitting on a sofa, with a book in her hand.-Lucy, as just returned from a message.

Lucy. Indeed, ma'am, I traversed half the town in search of it: I don't believe there's a circulating library in Bath I han't been at.

Lydia. And could not you get "The Reward of Constancy ?"

Lucy. No, indeed, ma'am.

Lydia. Nor" The Fatal Connection ?"

Lucy. No, indeed, ma'am.

Lydia. Nor" The Mistakes of the Heart ?"

Lucy. Ma'am, as ill luck would have it, Mr. Bull said, Miss Sukey Saunter had just fetched it away.

Lydia. Heigho! Did you inquire for "The Delicate Distress ?"

Lucy. Or, "The Memoirs of Lady Woodford?" Yes, indeed, ma'am, I asked every where for it; and I might have brought it from Mr. Frederick's, but Lady Slattern Lounger, who had just sent it home, had so soiled and dog's eared it, it wan't fit for a Christian to read.

Lydia. Heigho! Yes, I always know when Lady Slattern has been before me: she has a most observing thumb, and, I believe, cherishes her nails for the convenience of making marginal notes. Well, child, what have you brought me ?.

Lucy. Oh, here ma'am! [Taking books from under her cloak, and from her pockets.] This is "The Man of

Feeling," and this," Peregrine Pickle"-Here are "The Tears of Sensibility," and " Humphrey Clinker."

Lydia. Hoid!-here's some one coming-quick, see who it is-[Exit Lucy.]-Surely I heard my cousin Julia's voice!

ད

Enter LUCY.

Lucy. Lud, ma'am! here is Miss Melville!
Lydia. Is it possible!

Enter JULIA.

Lydia. My dearest Julia, how delighted am I! [Embrace.] How unexpected was this happiness!

Julia. True, Lydia, and our pleasure is the greater; but what has been the matter? you were denied to me at first.

Lydia. Ah, Julia, I have a thousand things to tell you! but first inform me what has conjured you to Bath? Is Sir Anthony here?

Julia. He is; we are arrived within this hour, and suppose he will be here to wait on Mrs. Malaprop as soon as he is dressed.

I

Lydia. Then before we are intérrupted, let me impart to you some of my distress: I know your gentle nature will sympathize with me, though your prudence may condemn me. My letters have informed you of my whole connection with Beverley; but I have lost him, Julia;-my aunt has discovered our intercourse by a note she intercepted, and has confined me ever since; yet, would you believe it? she has fallen absolutely in love with a tall Irish baronet she met one night, since we have been here, at Lady Macshuffle's rout.

Julia. You jest, Lydia!

Lydia. No, upon my word-She really carries on a kind of correspondence with him, under a feigned name though, till she chooses to be known to him ;but it is a Delia, or a Celia, I assure you.