Julia. Then, surely, she is now more indulgent to her niece?

Lydia. Quite the contrary; since she has discovered her own frailty, she is become more suspicious of mine. -Then I must inform you of another plague; that odious Acres is to be in Bath to-day, so that, I protest, I shall be teased out of all spirits!

Julia. Come, come, Lydia, hope for the best:-Sir Anthony shall use his interest with Mrs. Malaprop.

Lydia. But you have not heard the worst ;-unfortunately I had quarrelled with my poor Beverley just before my aunt made the discovery, and I have not seen him since to make it up.

Julia. What was his offence?

Lydia Nothing at all; but I don't know how it was, as often as we had been together, we had never had a quarrel; and somehow I was afraid he would never give me an opportunity; so, last Thursday, I wrote a letter to myself, to inform myself, that Beverley was, at that time, paying his addresses to another woman.— I signed it," Your friend unknown," showed it to Beverley, charged him with his falsehood, put myself in a violent passion, and vowed I'd never see him

more.

Julia. And you let him depart so, and have not seen him since?

Lydia. 'Twas the next day my aunt found the matter out; I intended only to have teased him three days and a half, and now I've lost him for ever.

Julia. If he is as deserving and sincere as you have represented him to me, he will never give you up so. Yet consider, Lydia, you tell me he is but an ensign -and you have thirty thousand pounds.

I

Lydia. But, you know, I lose most of my fortune, if marry without my aunt's consent, till of age; and that is what I have determined to do, ever since I knew

the penalty; nor could I love the man, who would wish to wait a day for the alternative.

Julia. Nay, this is caprice!

Lydia. What, does Julia tax me with caprice? I thought her lover Faulkland had inured her to it. Julia. I do not love even his faults.

Lydia. But a-propos! you have sent to him, I suppose?

Julia. Not yet, upon my word! nor has he the least idea of my being in Bath-Sir Anthony's resolution was so sudden, I could not inform him of it.

Lydia. Well, Julia, you are your own mistress, though under the protection of Sir Anthony; yet, have you, for this long year, been a slave to the caprice, the whim, the jealousy of this ungrateful Faulkland, who will ever delay assuming the right of a husband, while you suffer him to be equally imperious as á lover.

Julia. Nay, you are wrong entirely-We were contracted before my father's death: that, and some consequent embarrassments, have delayed what I know to be my Faulkland's most ardent wish-He is too generous to trifle on such a point-and, for his character, you wrong him there too.-No, Lydia, he is too proud, too noble, to be jealous; if he is captious, 'tis without dissembling; if fretful, without rudeness. Unused to the fopperies of love, he is negligent of the little duties expected from a lover. This temper, I must own, has cost me many unhappy hours; but I have learned to think myself his debtor, for those imperfections which arise from the ardour of his attachment.

Lydia. Well, I cannot blame you for defending him; but tell me candidly, Julia, had he never saved your life, do you think you should have been attached to him as you are? Believe me, the rude blast that overset your boat, was a prosperous gale of love to him.

Julia. Gratitude may have strengthened my attach

ment to Mr. Faulkland, but I loved him before he had preserved me; yet surely that alone were an obligation sufficient

Lydia. Obligation! Why, a water spaniel would have done as much! Well, I should never think of giving my heart to a man because he could swim!

Julia. Come, Lydia, you are too inconsiderate.
Lydia. Nay, I do but jest.—What's here?

Enter Lucy in a hurry.

Lucy. O ma'am, here is Sir Anthony Absolute, just come home with your aunt!

Lydia. They'll not come here-Lucy, do you watch. [Exit Lucy.

Julia. Yet I must go; Sir Anthony does not know I am here, and if we meet, he'll detain me, to show me the town. I'll take another opportunity of paying my respects to Mrs. Malaprop, when she shall treat me, as long as she chooses, with her select words, so ingeniously misapplied, without being mispronounced.

Enter Lucy.

Lucy. O lud, ma'am ! they are both coming up stairs. Lydia. Well, I'll not detain you, Coz.-Adieu, my dear Julia! I'm sure you are in haste to send to Faulkland. There-through my room you'll find another staircase.

Julia. Adieu!

[Exit JULIA.

Lydia. Here, my dear Lucy, hide these books.Quick, quick.-Fling" Peregrine Pickle" under the toilet-throw "Roderick Random" into the closetput "The Innocent Adultery" into " The Whole Duty of Man"-thrust " Lord Aimworth" under the sofa— "Ovid" behind the bolster-there-put "The Man of Feeling" into your pocket-so, so; now lay "Mrs. Chapone" in sight, and leave "Fordyce's Sermons" open on the table.

cram

Lucy. Oh, burn it, ma'am! the hairdresser has torn away as far as Proper Pride."

Lydia. Never mind-open at "Sobriety"-Fling me "Lord Chesterfield's Letters." " -Now for them!

Enter MRS. MALAPROP and SIR ANTHONY ABSOLUTE.

Mrs. M. There, Sir Anthony, there sits the deliberate simpleton, who wants to disgrace her family, and lavish herself on a fellow not worth a shilling.

Lydia. Madam, I thought you once

Mrs. M. You thought, miss! I don't know any business you have to think at all: thought does not become a young woman. But the point we would request of you is, that you will promise to forget this fellow-to illiterate him, I say, from your memory.

Lydia. Ah, madam! our memories are independent of our wills. It is not so easy to forget.

Mrs. M. But I say it is, miss! there is nothing on earth so easy as to forget, if a person chooses to set about it. I'm sure I have as much forgot your poor dear uncle as if he had never existed, and I thought

it my duty so to do;

and let me tell you, Lydia, these violent memories don't become a young woman.

Sir Anth. Why, sure, she won't pretend to remember what she's ordered not! ay, this comes of her reading!

Lydia. What crime, madam, have I committed, to be treated thus?

Mrs. M. Now don't attempt to extirpate yourself from the matter; you know I have proof controvertible of it but tell me, will you promise to do as you're bid? Will you take a husband of your friend's

choosing?

Lydia. Madam, I must tell you plainly, that had I no preference for any one else, the choice you have made would be my aversion.

Mrs. M. What business have you, miss, with preference and aversion? they don't become a young woman; and you ought to know, that as both always wear off, 'tis safest, in matrimony, to begin with a little aversion. I am sure I hated your poor, dear uncle, before marriage, as if he'd been a black-a-moor; and yet, miss, you are sensible what a wife I made! and when it pleased heaven to release me from him, 'tis unknown what tears I shed! But suppose we were going to give you another choice, will you promise us to give up this Beverley?

Lydia. Could I belie my thoughts so far as to give that promise, my actions would certainly as far belie my words.

Mrs. M. Take yourself to your room: you are fit company for nothing but your own ill humours. Lydia. Willingly, ma'am; I cannot change for the

worse.

[Exit.

Mrs. M. There's a little intricate hussy for you!

Sir Anth. It is not to be wondered at, ma'am; all this is the natural consequence of teaching girls to read. Had I a thousand daughters, by heaven! I'd as soon have them taught the black art as their alphabet!

Mrs. M. Nay, nay, Sir Anthony, you are an absolute misanthropy !

Sir Anth. In my way hither, Mrs. Malaprop, I observed your niece's maid coming forth from a circulating library; she had a book in each hand-they were half-bound volumes with marble covers: From that moment I guessed how full of duty I should see her mistress!

Mrs. M. Those are vile places, indeed!

Sir Anth. Madam, a circulating library in a town is as an evergreen tree of diabolical knowledge!-It blossoms through the year; and, depend on it, Mrs. Mala