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own you, I'll disinherit you, I'll unget you! and
damn me, if ever I call you Jack again!
[Exit SIR ANTH.
Abs. Mild, gentle, considerate father, I kiss
your hands. What a tender method of giving his
opinion in these matters sir Anthony has! I dare
not trust him with the truth. I wonder what old,
wealthy hag it is that he wants to bestow on me!
-yet, he married, himself, for love! and was,
in his youth, a bold intriguer, and a gay compa-
nion!

Enter FAG.

Fag. Assuredly, sir, your father is wrath to a degree he comes down stairs eight or ten steps at a time, muttering, growling, and thumping the banisters all the way: I, and the cook's dog, stand bowing at the door-rap! he gives me a stroke on the head with his cane, bids me carry that to my master; then, kicking the poor turnspit into the area, damns us all, for a puppy triumvirate!-Upon my credit, sir, were I in your place, and found my father such very bad company, I should certainly drop his acquaintance. Abs. Cease your impertinence, sir, at present. -Did you come in for nothing more?-Stand out of the way. [Pushes him aside, and exit.

Fag. So! Sir Anthony trims my master: He is afraid to reply to his father, then vents his spleen on poor Fag!-When one is vexed by one person, to revenge one's self on another, who happens to come in the way-is the vilest injustice! Ah! it shews the worst temper-the

basest

Enter Errand Boy.

Boy. Mr Fag! Mr Fag! your master calls

you.

Fag. Well, you little dirty puppy, you need not bawl so!-The meanest disposition! theBoy. Quick, quick, Mr Fag.

Fag. Quick, quick, you impudent jackanapes! am I to be commanded by you, too! you little impertinent, insolent, kitchen-bred

[Exit, kicking and beating him.

SCENE II.-The North Parade.
Enter LUCY.

Enter SIR LUCIUS O'TRIGGER.

Sir Luc. Hah! my little embassadress-Upon my conscience, I have been looking for you; I have been on the south parade this half hour.

Lucy. [Speaking simply.] O gemini! and I have been waiting for your worship here on the north!

Sir Luc. Faith!-may be, that was the reason we did not meet; and it is very comical too, how you could go out, and I not see you-for I was only taking a nap at the parade coffee-house, and I chose the window on purpose that I might not miss you.

Lucy. My stars! Now, I would wager a six-' pence I went by while you were asleep!

Sir Luc. Sure enough it must have been soand I never dreamt it was so late till I waked. Well, but my little girl, have you got nothing for me?

Lucy. Yes, but I have- -I've got a letter for you in my pocket.

Sir Luc. O, faith, I guessed you were not come empty-handed! Well; let me see what the dear creature says.

Lucy. There, sir Lucius.

[Gives him a letter. Sir Luc. [Reads.] 'Sir-There is often a sud'den incentive impulse in love, that has a great'er induction than years of domestic combina'tion: such was the commotion I felt at the first superfluous view of sir Lucius O'Trigger.' Very pretty, upon my word. Female punctuation 'forbids me to say more; yet, let me add, that it will give me joy infallible to find sir Lucius 'worthy the last criterion of my affections.

'DELIA.

Upon my conscience, Lucy, your lady is a great
mistress of language! Faith, she's quite the
queen of the dictionary! for the devil a word
dare refuse coming at her call-though one
would think it was quite out of hearing.

Lucy. Ay, sir, a lady of her experience.
Sir Luc. Experience! what, at seventeen!
Lucy. O, true, sir-but then she reads so-my
stars! how she will read off hand!

Lucy. Ah, sir Lucius! If you were to hear how she talks of you!

Sir Luc. Faith, she must be very deep read to write this way, though she is rather an arbitrary Lucy. So I shall have another rival to add to writer, too; for here are a great many poor my mistress's list-captain Absolute.-How-words pressed into the service of this note, that ever, I shall not enter his name till my purse has would get their habeas corpus from any court in received notice in form. Poor Acres is dismiss-Christendom. ed!-Well, I have done him a last friendly office, in letting him know that Beverley was here before him. Sir Lucius is generally more punctual, when he expects to hear from his dear Dalia, as he calls her: I wonder he's not here! -I have a little scruple of conscience from this deceit; though I should not be paid so well, if my hero knew that Delia was near fifty, and her own mistress.

VOL. II.

Sir Luc. O, tell her, I'll make her the best husband in the world, and lady O'Trigger into the bargain! But we must get the old gentlewoman's consent, and do every thing fairly.

Lucy. Nay, sir Lucius; I thought you was not rich enough to be so nice!

Sir Luc. Upon my word, young woman, you 6 M

have hit it: I am so poor, that I can't afford to do a dirty action. If I did not want money, I would steal your mistress and her fortune with a great deal of pleasure. However, my pretty girl, [Gives her money.] here's a little something to buy vou a ribband; and meet me in the evening, and I'll give you an answer to this. So, hussy, take a kiss beforehand, to put you in mind.

[Kisses her. Lucy. O, lud, sir Lucius! I never seed such a gemman! My lady won't like you if you are so impudent.

Sir Luc. Faith she will, Lucy; that same pho! what's the name of it?-modesty-is a quality in a lover more praised by the women than liked; so, if your mistress asks you whether sir Lucius ever gave you a kiss, tell her fifty, my dear.

Lucy. What, would you have me tell her a lie?

Sir Luc. Ah, then, you baggage? I'll make it a truth presently.

Lucy. For shame, now! here is some one coming.

So.

Sir Luc. O, faith, I'll quiet your consience!
[Sees FAG. Exit, humming a tune.

Enter FAG.

Fag. So, so, madam! I humbly beg pardon.
Lucy. O, lud! now, Mr Fag-you flurry one

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Fag. How! what tastes some people have! Why, I suppose I have walked by her window an hundred times. But what says your young lady? Any message to my master?

Lucy. Sad news, Mr Fag! A worse rival than Acres! Sir Anthony Absolute has proposed his son.

Fag. What! captain Absolute?

Lucy. Even so I overheard it all.

Fag. Ha, ha, ha! very good, faith! Goodbye, Lucy; I must away with this news.

Lucy. Well; you may laugh; but it is true, I assure you. [Going.] But, Mr Fag, tell your master not to be cast down by this.

Fag. O, he'll be so disconsolate!

Lucy. And charge him not to think of quarrelling with young Absolute.

Fag. Never fear! never fear!—————
Lucy. Be sure; bid him keep up his spirits.
Fag. We will-

-we will.

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE I.-The North Parade.

Enter ABSOLUTE.

ACT III.

him; he's any body's son for me. I never will
see him more; never, never, never, never!
Abs. Now for a penitential face.
Sir Anth. Fellow, get out of my way!
Abs. Sir, you see a penitent before you.
Sir Anth. I see an impudent scoundrel before

me.

Abs. 'Tis just as Fag told me, indeed. Whimsical enough, faith! My father wants to force me to marry the very girl I am plotting to run away with. He must not know of my connection with her yet a-while. He has too summary Abs. A sincere penitent. I come, sir, to aca method of proceeding in these matters. How-knowledge my error, and to submit entirely to ever, I'll read my recantation instantly. conversion is something sudden, indeed; but I can assure him it is very sincere. So, so, here he comes. He looks plaguy gruff.

Enter SIR ANTHONY.

My

[Steps aside.

Sir Anth. No: I'll die sooner than forgive him! Die, did I say? I'll live these fifty years to plague him. At our last meeting, his impudence had almost put me out of temper. An obstinate, passionate, self-willed boy! Who can he take after? This is my return for getting him before all his brothers and sisters! for putting him, at twelve years old, into a marching regiment, and allowing him fifty pounds a-year, besides his pay, ever since! But I have done with

your will.

Sir Anth. What's that?

Abs. I have been revolving, and reflecting, and considering on your past goodness, and kindness, and condescension to me.

Sir Anth. Well, sir?

Abs. I have been likewise weighing and balancing what you were pleased to mention concerning duty, and obedience, and authority.

Sir Anth. Well, puppy?

Abs. Why, then, sir, the result of my reflections is, a resolution to sacrifice every inclination of my own to your satisfaction.

sense.
Sir Anth. Why now, you talk sense-absolute
I never heard any thing more sensible
in my life. Confound you! you shall be Jack
again!

Abs. I am happy in the appellation.

Sir Anth. Why, then, Jack, my dear Jack, I will now inform you who the lady really is.Nothing but your passion and violence, you silly fellow, prevented my telling you at first. Prepare, Jack, for wonder and rapture-prepare! What think you of Miss Lydia Languish?

Abs. Languish! What, the Languishes of Worcestershire?

Sir Anth. Worcestershire! No. Did you never meet Mrs Malaprop and her niece, Miss Languish, who came into our country just before you were last ordered to your regiment?

Abs. Malaprop! Languish! I don't remember ever to have heard the names before. Yet, stay; I think I do recollect something. Languish! Languish! She squints, don't she? A little redhaired girl?

Sir Anth. Squints! A red-haired girl!Zounds! no.

Abs. Then, I must have forgot; it can't be the same person.

Sir Anth. Jack! Jack! what think you of blooming, love-breathing seventeen?

Abs. As to that, sir, I am quite indifferent. If I can please you in the matter, 'tis all I desire.

Sir Anth. Nay, but, Jack, such eyes! such eyes! so innocently wild! so bashfully irresolute! not a glance but speaks and kindles some thought of love! Then, Jack, her cheeks! her cheeks, Jack! so deeply blushing at the insinuations of her tell-tale eyes! Then, Jack, her lips! O, Jack, lips smiling at their own discretion; and, if not smiling, more sweetly pouting; more lovely in sullenness!

Abs. That's she, indeed. Well done, old gentleman! [Aside. Sir Anth. Then, Jack, her neck! O, Jack, Jack!

Abs. And which is to be mine, sir; the niece or the aunt?

Sir Anth. Why, you unfeeling, insensible puppy, I despise you! When I was of your age, such a description would have made me fly like a rocket! The aunt, indeed! Odds life! when I ran away with your mother, I would not have touched any thing old or ugly to gain an empire. Abs. Not to please your father, sir? Sir Anth. To please my father! Zounds! not to please -Oh, my father

so! yes, yes; if my father, indeed, had desired -that's quite another matter. Though he was not the indulgent father that I am, Jack.

Abs. I dare say not, sir.

very nice, I own I should rather choose a wife of mine to have the usual number of limbs, and a limited quantity of back: and though one eye may be very agreeable, yet, as the prejudice has always run in favour of two, I would not wish to affect a singularity in that article.

Sir Anth. What a phlegmatic sot it is! Why, sirrah, you're an anchorite! a vile, insensible stock! You a soldier! you're a walking block, fit only to dust the company's regimentals on! Odds life! I've a great mind to marry the girl myself!

Abs. I am entirely at your disposal, sir; if you' should think of addressing Miss Languish yourself, I suppose you would have me marry the aunt: or, if you should change your mind, and take the old lady, 'tis the same to me, I'll marry

the niece.

Sir Anth. Upon my word, Jack, thou'rt either a very great hypocrite, or- -but, come, I know your indifference on such a subject must be all a lie-I'm sure it must---come, now-damn your demure face! Come, confess, Jack; you have been lying, ha'n't you? You have been playing the hypocrite, hey? I'll never forgive you, if you ha'n't been lying and playing the hypocrite.

Abs. I'm sorry, sir, that the respect and duty which I bear to you should be so mistaken.

Sir Anth. Hang your respect and duty! But, come along with me; I'll write a note to Mrs Malaprop, and you shall visit the lady directly. Her eyes shall be the Promethian torch to youCome along! I'll never forgive you, if you don't come back stark mad with rapture and impatience-if you don't, egad, I'll marry the girl myself!

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.--JULIA's dressing-room.

Enter FAULKLAND.

Faulk. They told me Julia would return directly; I wonder she is not yet come! How mean does this captious, unsatisfied temper of mine ap pear to my cooler judgment! Yet I know not that I indulge it in any other point: but on this one subject, and to this one subject, whom I think I love beyond my life, I am ever ungenerously -Od-fretful and madly capricious! I am conscious of it; yet I cannot correct myself! What tender, honest joy sparkled in her eyes when we met! How delicate was the warmth of her expressions! I was ashamed to appear less happy, though I had come resolved to wear a face of coolness and upbraiding. Sir Anthony's presence prevented my proposed expostulations: yet I must be satisfied that she has not been so very happy in my absence. She is coming! Yes! I know the nimbleness of her tread, when she thinks her impatient Faulkland counts the moments of her stay.

Sir Anth. But, Jack, you are not sorry to find your mistress is so beautiful?

Abs. Sir, I repeat it, if I please you in this affair, 'tis all I desire. Not that I think a woman the worse for being handsome; but, sir, if you please to recollect, you before hinted something about a hump or two, one eye, and a few more graces of that kind. Now, without being

Enter JULIA.

Julia. I had not hoped to see you again so

soon.

Faulk. Could I, Julia, be contented with my first welcome, restrained as we were by the presence of a third person?

Julia. O Faulkland, when your kindness can make me thus happy, let me not think that I discovered something of coldness in your first salutation!

Faulk. 'Twas but your fancy, Julia. I was rejoiced to see you-to see you in such health. Sure I had no cause for coldness?

Julia. Nay, then, I see you have taken something ill. You must not conceal from me what

it is.

Faulk. Well, then-shall I own to you, that my joy at hearing of your health and arrival here, by your neighbour Acres, was somewhat damped by his dwelling much on the high spirits you had enjoyed in Devonshire-on your mirth, your singing, dancing, and I know not what!For such is my temper, Julia, that I should regard every mirthful moment in your absence as a treason to constancy: The mutual tear that steals down the check of parting lovers is a compact, that no smile shall live there till they meet again.

Julia. Must I never cease to tax my Faulkland with this teasing, minute caprice? Can the idle reports of a silly boor weigh in your breast against my tried affection?

Faulk. They have no weight with me, Julia: No, no; I am happy if you have been so. Yet only say, that you did not sing with mirth; say that you thought of Faulkland in the dance!

Julia. I never can be happy in your absence! If I wear a countenance of content, it is to shew that my mind holds no doubt of my Faulkland's truth. If I seemed sad, it were to make malice triumph; and say, that I had fixed my heart on one, who left me to lament his roving, and any own credulity. Believe me, Faulkiand, I mean not to upbraid you, when I say, that I have often dressed sorrow in smiles, lest my friends should guess whose unkindness had caused my tears.

Faulk. You were ever all goodness to me! O, I am a brute, when I but admit a doubt of your true constancy!

Julia. If ever, without such cause from you, as I will not suppose possible, you find my affection veering but a point, may I become a proverbial scoff for levity and base ingratitude!

Faulk. Ah, Julia, that last word is grating to me! I would I had no title to your gratitude! Search your heart, Julia; perhaps, what you have mistaken for love, is but the warm effusion of a too thankful heart!

Julia. For what quality must I love you? Faulk. For no quality! To regard me for any quality of mind or understanding, were only to

esteem me. And for person-I have often wished myself deformed, to be convinced that I owed no obligation there for any part of your affection.

Julia. Where nature has bestowed a show of nice attention in the features of a man, he should laugh at it as misplaced. I have seen men, who, in this vain article, perhaps, might rank above you; but my heart has never asked my eyes if it

were so or not.

Faulk. Now, this is not well from you, Julia; I despise person in a man-yet, if you loved me as I wish, though I were an Ethiop, you'd think none so fair.

Julia. I see you are determined to be unkind. The contract, which my poor father bound us in, gives you more than a lover's privilege.

Faulk. Again, Julia, you raise ideas that feed and justify my doubts. I would not have been more free-no! I am proud of my restraint. Yet, yet-perhaps your high respect alone for this solemn compact has fettered your inclinations, which, else, had made a worthier choice. How shall I be sure, had you remained unbound in thought and promise, that I should still have been the object of your persevering love?

Julia. Then try me now. Let us be free as strangers as to what is past: my heart will not feel more liberty.

Faulk. There now! So hasty, Julia! So anxious to be free! If your love for me were fixed and ardent, you would not lose your hold, even though I wished it!

Julia. Oh, you torture me to the heart! I cannot bear it.

Faulk. I do not mean to distress you. If I loved you less, I should never give you an uneasy moment. But hear me. All my fretful doubts arise from this. Women are not used to weigh and separate the motives of their affections: the cold dictates of prudence, gratitude, or filial duty, may sometimes be mistaken for the pleadings of the heart. I would not boast; yet let me say, that I have neither age, person, or character, to found dislike on; my fortune such as few ladies could be charged with indiscretion in the match. O Julia! when love receives such countenance from prudence, nice minds will be suspicious of its birth.

Julia. I know not whither your insinuations would tend: but as they seem pressing to insult me, I will spare you the regret of having done so. I have given you no cause for this!

[Exit, in tears. Faulk. In tears! Stay, Julia: stay but for a moment. The door is fastened! Julia; my soul --but for one moment: I hear her sobbing! 'Sdeath! What a brute am I to use her thus! Yet stay. Ay; she is coming now: How little resolution there is in woman! How a few soft words can turn them! No, faith! She is not coming, either. Why, Julia! my love! say but that

you forgive me; come but to tell me that; now
this is being too resentful: stay! she is coming
too; I thought she would: no steadiness in any
thing! Her going away must have been a mere
trick, then; she shan't see that I was hurt by it.
I'll affect indifference-[Hums a tune: then lis-
tens.]-No; zounds! She is not coming! Nor
don't intend it, I suppose. This is not steadiness,
but obstinacy. Yet I deserve it. What, after
so long an absence to quarrel with her tender-
ness! Twas barbarous and unmanly! I should
be ashamed to see her now. I'll wait till her
just resentment is abated; and when I distress
her so again, may I lose her for ever! And be
linked, instead, to some antique virago, whose
gnawing passions, and long hoarded spleen, shall
make me curse my folly half the day, and all
the night.
[Exit.

SCENE III.-MRS MALAPROP's lodgings. Enter MRS MALAPROP, with a letter in her hand, and CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE.

Mrs Mal. Your being sir Anthony's son, captain, would itself be a sufficient accommodation; but, from the ingenuity of your appearance, I am convinced you deserve the character here given of you.

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thing in my power, since I exploded the affair; long ago I laid my positive conjunctions on her, never to think on the fellow again. I have since laid sir Anthony's preposition before her; but, I am sorry to say, she seems resolved to decline every particle that I enjoin her.

Abs. It must be very distressing, indeed, madam.

Mrs Mal. Oh! it gives me the hydrostatics to such a degree! I thought she had persisted from corresponding with him; but, behold, this very day, I have interceded another letter from the fellow; I believe I have it in my pocket. Abs. O the devil! my last note. [Aside. Mrs Mal. Ay; here it is.

Abs. Ay; my note indeed! O the little trai-
tress Lucy!
[Aside.
Mrs Mal. There; perhaps you may know the
writing.

[Gives him the letter.
Abs. I think I have seen the hand before; yes,
I certainly must have seen this hand before-
Mrs Mal. Nay; but read it, captain.
Abs. [Reads. My soul's idol; my adored
Lydia!' Very tender, indeed!

Mrs Mal. Tender! ay, and prophane, too, o' my conscience!

·

Abs. I am excessively alarmed at the intelli'gence you send me; the more so, as my new ri

Mrs Mal. That's you, sir.

Abs. Permit me to say, madam, that, as I never yet have had the pleasure of seeing Miss Lan-val' guish, my principal inducement, in this affair, at present, is the honour of being allied to Mrs Malaprop; of whose intellectual accomplishments, elegant manners, and unaffected learning, no tongue is silent.

Mrs Mal. Sir, you do me infinite honour! I beg, captain, you'll be seated.-[Sit.]-Ah! few gentlemen, now-a-days, know how to value the ineffectual qualities in a woman! Few think how a little knowledge becomes a gentlewoman! Men have no sense, now, but for the worthless flower of beauty!

Abs. It is but too true, indeed, madam; yet I fear our ladies should share the blame; they think our admiration of beauty so great, that knowledge in them would be superfluous. Thus, like garden trees, they seldom shew fruit, till time has robbed them of the more specious blossom. Few, like Mrs Malaprop and the orangetr e, are rich in both at once!

Mrs Mal. Sir, you overpower me with goodbreeding; he is the very pine-apple of politeness. You are not ignorant, captain, that this giddy girl has somehow contrived to fix her affections on a beggarly, strolling, eve's-dropping ensign, whom none of us have seen, and nobody knows any thing of.

Abs. O, I have heard the silly affair before.
I am not at all prejudiced against her on that ac-

count.

Mrs Mal. You are very good, and very considerate, captain. I am sure I have done every

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Abs. Has universally the character of being an accomplished gentleman, and a man of honour.' Well, that's handsome enough.

Mrs Mal. O, the fellow has some design in writing so.

Abs. That he had; I'll answer for him, ma

dam.

ly.

Mrs Mal. But go on, sir; you'll see present| Abs: As for the old weather-beaten she-dra'gon, who guards you,'-Who can he mean by that?

Mrs Mal. Me, sir: me: he means me there; what do you think, now? But go on a little further.

Abs. Impudent scoundrel! It shall go hard 'but I will elude her vigilance, as I am told that 'the same ridiculous vanity, which makes her 'dress up her coarse features, and deck her dull chat with hard words which she don't understand'

Mrs Mal. There, sir! an attack upon my language! What do you think of that? An aspersion upon my parts of speech! Was ever such a brute! Sure, if I reprehend any thing in this world, it is the use of my oracular tongue, and a nice derangement of epitaphs!

Abs. He deserves to be hanged and quartered!
Let me see-same ridiculous vanity'-

Mrs Mal. You need not read it again, sir.
Abs. I beg pardon, madam- does also lay

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