KNOW YOUR OWN MIND,

A COMEDY.

BY

ARTHUR MURPHY.

१०

DRAMATIS PERSONE.

KNOW YOUR OWN MIND.

ACT I.

Scene I.-An Apartment in Sir John Millamour's House. Enter SIR JOHN MILLAMOUR and BYGROVE.

Bygrove. Why, then, I'd marry again, and disinherit him.

Sir J. Brother Bygrove, you think too severely in these matters.

Bygrove. Severely, Sir John? If I had a mind that my son should marry, why should not he do as I would have him?

Sir J. Allowance must be made for inclination.The success of our children, depends upon the manner in which we set them out in the world. They are like bowls, which, if delivered out of hand with a due regard to their bias, our aim is answered ;-if otherwise, they are short or wide of the mark in view, or perhaps rush wildly out of the green.

Bygrove. Well argued, truly! he, that should obey, is to judge for himself, and you, that are his governor, are to be directed by him!

Sir J. Why he is chiefly interested in the end; and the choice of the means may be fairly left to himself. I can't but be tender of George, a plant of my own rearing, and the tree will hereafter be known by its fruit.

Bygrove. It is a tree that will bear nothing without grafting; and if I could not inoculate what will make it thrive and flourish, it should not encumber a foot of my land.

Sir J. Your system and mine differ widely, brother Bygrove. My son is of an enlarged and liberal understanding, and I a father of mild authority.

Bygrove. Authority! your son's word is a law to you. Now, there is my young graceless, he is in the army, and why? Because I chose it-I had a mind he should serve, and so he went to be shot at.—No arguing with me.—If I see any thing wrong, I accost him directly:-"Lookye, sir, do you think to go on in this fashion? Not during my life, I promise you: I will acknowledge you no longer than you prove worthy, and if you can't discern what is befitting you, I, at least, will judge what is proper on my part.”

Sir J. Well, George and I have lived together as friends.—From a boy, I endeavoured to subject him rather to his reason, than his fears. If any little irregularity happened, he was no sooner sensible of it, than his cheek coloured, and the blush of youth not only looked decent, but expressed an ingenuous, and welldisposed mind.

Bygrove. But the consequence of all this?—Has he a settled opinion-a fixed principle, for a moment? He is grown up in caprice; his judgment has not vigour to be decisive upon the merest trifle; he is distracted by little things, and of course, is perishing by little and little.

Sir J. Oh no, all from a good cause: his knowledge of life occasions quick reflection, quick reflection shows things in a variety of lights. I am not angry-He will settle in the world-you will see him married before long.

Bygrove. In what a variety of lights his wife will appear to him?

Sir J. I beg your pardon for a moment.-I see a person there-Charles, Charles! this way.

Enter CHARLES.

Sir J. Well, Charles, what is he about?

Charles. Very busy, sir, a thousand things in hand. Bygrove. And all at the same time, I'll warrant? Charles. We have a deal to employ us, sir.

Sir J. Have you sounded him in regard to what I mentioned last night?

Charles. That's what I wanted to tell your honour. Last night, sir, as he was going to bed, I touched upon the subject-dropped a hint or two, that it is now time to think of raising heirs to himself-enlarged upon the comforts of matrimony, and I think, with no small degree of eloquence.

Bygrove. The fellow is laughing at you.

Sir J. Well, and how ?—What effect?

Charles. A very visible effect, sir. This morning, early, my master rings his bell" Charles," says he, "I have been considering what you said last night :I shall pay a visit to the young ladies, and, I believe, I shall marry one of them."

Sir J. There, Mr. Bygrove-I am for ever obliged to you, Charles.-Well, go on.

Charles. I fly immediately, to get him his things to dress, and return in an instant. "Charles," says he, then tossed himself back in his chair, beat the ground with his heel, and fell a reading. Won't your honour get ready to visit the young ladies?" The ladies?— what ladies, you blockhead?"-Lady Bell, and Lady Jane, your honour, Mrs. Bromley's handsome nieces."Po! you're a numskull," says he, with an oblique kind of a smile-stretched his arms, yawned, talked to himself, and bade me go about my business.

Bygrove. I knew it would end so.

He will continue