Lydia. Madam, I have told you my resolution!-I shall not only give him no encouragement, but I won't even speak to, or look at him. [Flings herself into a chair, with her face from the door.] Enter SIR ANTHONY, and ABSOLUTE. Sir Anth. Here we are, Mrs Malaprop, come to mitigate the frowns of unrelenting beauty; and difficulty enough I had to bring this fellow. I don't know what's the matter; but, if I had not held him by force, he'd have given me the slip. Mrs Mal. You have infinite trouble, sir Anthony, in the affair.-I am ashamed for the cause! Lydia, Lydia, rise, I beseech you!—pay your respects! [Aside to her. Sir Anth. I hope, madam, that miss Languish has reflected on the worth of this gentleman, and the regard due to her aunt's choice, and my alliance. Now, Jack, speak to her. [Aside to him. Abs. What the devil shall I do? [Aside.] You see, sir, she won't even look at me, whilst you are here. I knew she would not!--I told you so-Let me entreat you, sir, to leave us together! [ABSOLUTE seems to expostulate with his father.] Lydia. [Aside.] I wonder I have not heard my aunt exclaim yet! sure she can't have looked at him!- -perhaps their regimentals are alike, and she is something blind. Sir Anth. I say, sir, I won't stir a foot, yet. Mrs Mal. I am sorry to say, sir Anthony, that my affluence over my niece is very small.-Turn round, Lydia; I blush for you! [Aside to her. Sir Anth. May I not flatter myself, that Miss Languish will assign what cause of dislike she can have to my son !—Why don't you begin, Jack ? Speak, you puppy-speak! [Aside to him. Mrs Mal. It is impossible, sir Anthony, she can have any. She will not say she has.Answer, hussy! why don't answer? you Mrs Mal. Sir Anthony, shall we leave them together? Ah, you stubborn little vixen! [Aside to her. Sir Anth. Not yet, madam, not yet! what the devil are you at? unlock your jaws, sirrah, or[Aside to him. [ABSOLUTE draws near LYDIA.] Abs. Now Heaven send she may be too sullen to look round! I must disguise my voice. [Aside. Speaks in a low hoarse tone.] Will not Miss Languish lend an ear to the mild accents of true love? Will not Sir Anth. What the devil ails the fellow Why don't you speak out? not stand croaking like a frog in a quinsey! Abs. The-the-excess of my awe, and mymy-my modesty, quite choak me! Sir Anth. Ah, your modesty again! I'll tell you what, Jack, if you don't speak out directly, and glibly, too, I shall be in such a rage! Mrs Malaprop, I wish the lady would favour us with something more than a side front. [MRS MALAPROP seems to chide LYDIA. Abs. So all will out, I see! [Goes up to LyDIA-speaks softly.] Be not surprised, my Lydin; suppress all surprise at present. Lydia. [Aside.] Heavens! 'tis Beverley's voice! Sure he can't have imposed on sir Authony, too! [Looks round by degrees, then starts up.] Is this possible! my Beverley! how can this be, my Beverley? Abs. Ah, 'tis all over! [Aside. Sir Anth. Zounds, the girl's mad! her brain's turned by reading! Mrs Mal. O my conscience, I believe so! What do you mean by Beverley, hussy? You saw captain Absolute before to-day; there he is; your husband that shall be. [Aside to her. Sir Anth. Then, madam, I trust that a childish and hasty predilection will be no bar to Jack's happiness.- -Zounds, sirrah, why don't you speak? [Aside to him. Lydia. [Aside.] I think my lover seems as lit-fuse my Beverleytle inclined to conversation as myself.- -How strangely blind my aunt must be! Abs. Hem, hem! Madam, hem! [ABSOLUTE attempts to speak, then returns to SIR ANTHONY.] Faith, sir, I am so confounded! and so, so confused! I told you I should be so, sir; I knew it. The-the-tremor of my passion entirely takes away my presence of mind. Sir Anth. But it don't take away your voice, fool, does it? Go up, and speak to her directly! [ABSOLUTE makes signs to MRS MALAPROP to leave them together.] Lydia. With all my soul, madam! when I re Sir Anth. O, she's as mad as Bedlam! or has this fellow been playing us a rogue's trick? Come here, sirrah; who the devil are you? Abs. Faith, sir, I am not quite clear myself; but I'll endeavour to recollect. Sir Anth. Are you my son, or not? Answer for your mother, you dog, if you won't for me. Mrs Mal. Ay, sir, who are you? O mercy, I begin to suspect ! Abs. Ye powers of impudence, befriend me ! [Aside.] Sir Anthony, most assuredly I am your wife's son; and that I sincerely believe myself to be yours also, I hope my duty has always Abs. O, you flatter me, sir! you compliment ---'tis my modesty, you know, sir; my modesty that has stood in my way. Sir Anth. Well, I am glad you are not the dull, insensible varlet you pretended to be, how-| ever; I am glad you have made a fool of your father, you dog, I am: So this was your penitence, your duty, and obedience! I thought it was damned sudden! You never heard their names before, not you! What, the Languishes of Worcestershire, hey? If you could please me in the affair, 'twas all you desired! Ah, you dissembling villain! What! [Pointing to LYDIA.] she squints, don't she? a little red-haired girl! hey? Why, you hypocrital young rascal! I wonder you are not ashamed to hold up your head! did Abs. So! Egad, I thought as much! that damned monosyllable has froze me! [Aside.]— What, Lydia, now that we are as happy in our friends' consent, as in our mutual vows Lydia. Friends' consent, indeed! [Peevishly. Abs. Come, come; we must lay aside some of our romance-a little wealth and comfort may be endured after all. And, for your fortune, the lawyers shall make such settlements as Lydia. Lawyers! I hate lawyers! Abs. Nay, then, we will not wait for their lingering forms, but instantly procure the licence, and Lydia. The licence! I hate licence! Abs. O, my love! be not so unkind! thus, let me intreat[Kneeling. Lydia. Pshaw what signifies kneeling, when you must I must have you? Abs. [Rising.] Nay, madam, there shall be no constraint upon your inclinations, I promise you. If I have lost your heart, I resign the rest. 'Gad, I must try what a little spirit will do. [Aside. Abs. 'Tis with difficulty, sir; I am confused ---very much confused, as you must perceive. Mrs Mal. O, lud, sir Anthony! a new light breaks in upon me! hey! how! what! Captain, Lydia. [Rising.] Then, sir, let me tell you, you write the letters, then? What, am to the interest you had there was acquired by a thank you for the elegant compilation of an old, mean, unmanly imposition, and deserves the pu'weather-beaten she-dragon,' hey? O mercy!nishment of fraud. What, you have been treatwas it you that reflected on my parts of speech? ing me like a child! humouring my romance Abs. Dear sir, my modesty will be overpower- and laughing, I suppose, at your success? ed, at last, if you don't assist me. I shall certainly not be able to stand it! Sir Anth. Come, come, Mrs Malaprop, we we must forget and forgive; odd's life! niatters have taken so clever a turn all of a sudden, that I could find in my heart, to be so good-humoured! and so gallant-hey! Mrs Malaprop? Mrs Mal. Well, sir Anthony, since you desire it, we will not anticipate the past; so mind, young people—our retrospection will be all to the future. Abs. You wrong me, Lydia, you wrong me; only hear Lydia. So, while I fondly imagined we were deceiving my relations, and flattered myself that I should outwit and incense them all—behold, my hopes are to be crushed at once, by my aunt's consent and approbation; and I am, myself, the only dupe, at last! [Walking about in a heat.] But, here, sir; here is the picture; Beverley's picture! [Taking a miniature from her bosom.] which I have worn, night and day, in spite of Sir Anth. Come, we must leave them toge-threats and entreaties. There, sir, [Flings it to ther. Mrs Malaprop, they long to fly into each other's arms, I warrant. Jack, is not the cheek as I said, hey? and the eye, you rogue! and the lip: hey? Come, Mrs Malaprop, we'll not disturb their tenderness-their's is the time of life for happiness [Sings.]. Youth's the season made for joy. him.] and be assured I throw the original from my heart as easily. Abs. Nay, nay, madam; we will not differ as to that-Here, [Taking out a picture.] here is Miss Lydia Languish. What a difference! aye, there is the heavenly assenting smile, that first gave soul and spirit to my hopes! those are the lips, which sealed a vow, as yet scarce dry in Cupid's calendar; and there, the half resentfal blush, that would have checked the ardour of | blood of the Absolutes was always impatient! my thanks-Well, all that's past-all over, in-Ha, ha, ha! poor little Lydia! Why, you've deed. There, madam! in beauty, that copy is frightened her, you dog, you have. not equal to you; but, in my mind, it's merit over Abs. By all that's good, sirthe original, in being still the same, is such-that -I cannot find in my heart to part with it. [Puts it up again. Lydia. [Softening.] 'Tis your own doing, sir. I, I, I suppose you are perfectly satisfied? Abs. O, most certainly sure, now, this is much better than being in love-ha, ha, ha! there's some spirit in this! What signifies breaking some scores of solemn promises: all that is of no consequence, you know. To be sure people will say, that Miss did not know her own mindbut never mind that; or, perhaps, they may be ill-natured enough to hint, that the gentleman grew tired of the lady and forsook her-but don't let that fret you. Lydia. There's no bearing this insolence. [Bursts into tears. Enter MRS MALAPROP and SIR ANTHONY. Mrs Mal. [Entering.] Come, we must interrupt your billing and cooing a while. Lydia. This is worse than your treachery and deceit, you base ingrate! [Sobbing Sir Anth. What the devil's the matter now? Zounds, Mrs Malaprop, this is the oddest billing and cooing I ever heard! but what the deuce is the meaning of it? I am quite astonished! Abs. Ask the lady, sir. Mrs Mal. O, mercy, I am quite analysed for my part! Why, Lydia, what is the reason of this? Lydia. Ask the gentleman, madam. Sir Anth. Zounds! I shall be in a phrenzy! why, Jack, you are not come out to be any one else, are you? Mrs Mal. Aye, sir, there's no more trick, is there? you are not like Cerberus, three gentlemen at once, are you? Abs. You'll not let me speak-I say the lady can account for this much better than I can. Lydia. Madam, you once commanded me never to think of Beverley again; there is the man; I now obey you: for, from this moment, I renounce him for ever. [Exit LYDIA. Mrs Mal. O mercy and miracles! what a turn here is why, sure captain, you haven't behaved disrespectfully to my niece? Sir Anth. Ha, ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha! now I see it! Ha, ha, ha! now I see it! You have been too lively, Jack. Abs. Nay, sir, upon my word! Sir Anth. Come, no lying, Jack. I'm sure 'twas so. Mrs Mal. O Lud! Sir Anthony! O fie, Captain! Abs. Upon my soul, madam Sir Anth. Come, no excuses, Jack! why, your father, you rogue, was so before you: the Sir Anth. Zounds! say no more, I tell you. Mrs Malaprop shall make your peace. You must make his peace, Mrs Malaprop: you must tell her 'tis Jack's way; tell her 'tis all our ways—it runs in the blood of our family! Come away, Jack-Ha, ha, ha! Mrs Malaprop-a young vil| lain! [Pushes him out. Mrs Mal. O, sir Anthony! O fie, captain! [Exeunt severally. SCENE IV.-The North Parade. Enter SIR LUCIUS O'TRIGGER. Sir Luc. I wonder where this captain Absolute hides himself! Upon my conscience! these officers are always in one's way in love affairs: I remember I might have married lady Dorothy Carmine, if it had not been for a little rogue of a major, who ran away with her before she could get a sight of me! And I wonder, too, what it is the ladies can see in them to be so fond of them! Unless it be a touch of the old serpent in them, that makes the little creatures be caught, like vipers, with a bit of red cloth. Hah! isn't this the captain coming? faith it is! There is a probability of succeeding about that fellow, that is mighty provoking! Who the devil is he talking to? [Steps aside. Enter CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE. Abs. To what fine purpose I have been plotting! a noble reward for all my schemes, upon my soul! a little gypsey! I did not think her romance could have made her so damned absurd either. 'Sdeath, I never was in a worse humour in my life! I cou'd cut my own throat, or any other person's, with the greatest pleasure in the world! Sir Luc. O, faith, I'm in the luck of it! I ncver could have found him in a sweeter temper for my purpose; to be sure, I'm just come in the nick! now to enter into conversation with him, and so quarrel genteely. [SIR LUCIUS goes up to ABSOLUTE. With regard to that matter, captain, I must beg leave to differ in opinion with you. Abs. Upon my word, then, you must be a very subtle disputant; because, sir, I happened just then to be giving no opinion at all. Sir Luc. That's no reason. For, give me leave to tell you, a man may think an untruth as well as speak one. Abs. Very true, sir; but if a man never utters his thoughts, I should think they might stand a chance of escaping controversy. Sir Luc. Then, sir, you differ in opinion with me, which amounts to the same thing. Abs. Hark'e, sir Lucius; if I had not before known you to be a gentleman, upon my soul, I should not have discovered it at this interview: for what you can drive at, unless you mean to quarrel with me, I cannot conceive! Faulk. Prithee, be serious. Abs. 'Tis fact, upon my soul! Sir Lucius O'Trigger-you know him by sight-for some affront, which I am sure I never intended, has obSir Luc. I humbly thank you, sir, for the quick-liged me to meet him this evening at six o'clock; ness of your apprehension! [Bowing.] You have 'tis on that account I wished to see you; you named the very thing I would be at. must go with me. Abs. Very well, sir; I shall certainly not baulk your inclinations: but I should be glad you would please to explain your motives? Sir Luc. Pray, sir, be easy-the quarrel is a very pretty quarrel as it stands-we should only spoil it, by trying to explain it. However, your memory is very short, or you could not have forgot an affront you passel on me within this week. So, no more, but name your time and place. Abs. Well, sir, since you are so bent on it, the sooner the better-let it be this evening-here by the Spring Gardens. We shall scarcely be interrupted. Sir Luc. Faith! that same interruption in affairs of this nature shews very great ill-breeding. I don't know what's the reason; but in England, if a thing of this kind gets wind, people make such a pother, that a gentleman can never fight in peace and quietness. However, if its the same to you, captain, I should take it as a particular kindness, if you'd let us meet in King'sMead Fields, as a little business will call me there about six o'clock, and I may dispatch both matters at once. Abs. 'Tis the same to me exactly. A little after six, then, we'll discuss this matter more seriously. Sir Luc. If you please, sir; there will be very pretty small-sword light, though it won't do for a long shot. So that matter's settled, and my mind's at ease. [Exit SIR LUCIUS. Enter FAULKLAND, meeting ABSOLUTE. Abs. Well met ! I was going to look for you. O, Faulkland! all the demons of spite and disappointment have conspired against me! I'm so vexed, that if I had not the prospect of a resource in being knocked o' the head by and by, I should scarce have spirits to tell you the cause. Faulk. What can you mean? Has Lydia changed her mind? I should have thought her duty and inclination would now have pointed to the same object. Abs. Aye, just as the eyes do of a person who squints: when her love-eye was fixed on me, t'other, her eye of duty, was finely obliqued: but when duty bid her point that the same way, off t'other turned on a swivel, and secured its retreat with a frown ! Faulk. But what's the resource youAbs. O, to wind up the whole, a good-natured Irishman here has [mimicking SIR LUCIUS.] begged leave to have the pleasure of cutting my throat, and I mean to indulge him, that's all. Faulk. Nay, there must be some mistake, sure. Sir Lucius shall explain hinself ; and, I dare say, matters may be accommodated: but this evening, did you say? I wish it had been any other time. Abs. Why? there will be light enough : there will, as sir Lucius savs, be very pretty smallsword light, though it will not do for a long shot. Confound his long shots! Faulk. But I am myself a good deal ruffled, by a difference I have had with Julia-my vile tormenting temper has made me treat her so cruelly, that I shall not be myself till we arc reconciled. Abs. By Heavens, Faulkland, you don't deserve her! Faulk. O, yes, I am-but-but Abs. Confound your buts! You never hear any thing that would make another man bless himself, but you immediately damn it with a but! Faulk. Now, Jack, as you are my friend, own honestly, don't you think there is something forward, something indelicate, in this haste to forgive? Women should never sue for reconciliation; that should always come from us. They should retain their coldness till wooed to kindness; and their pardon, like their love, should not unsought be won.' Abs. I have not patience to listen to you: thou'rt incorrigible ! so, say no more on the subject. I must go to settle a few matters-let me see you before six-remember-at my lodgings. A poor, industrious devil like me, who have toiled, and drudged, and plotted to gain my ends, and am at last disappointed by other people's folly, may, in sue. pity, be allowed to swear and grumble a little; | an idea in my head, which I will instantly purbut a captious sceptic in love, a slave to fretfulness and whim, who has no difficulties but of his own creating, is a subject more fit for ridicule than compassion! [Exit. Faulk. I feel his reproaches: yet I would not change this too exquisite nicety, for the gross content with which he tramples on the thorns of love. His engaging me in this duel has started SCENE I.-JULIA's dressing-room. JULIA alone. I'll use it as the touchstone of Julia's sincerity and disinterestedness-if her love prove pure and sterling ore, my name will rest on it with honour! and once I have stamped it there, I lay aside my doubts for ever: but if the dross of selfishness, the ailay of pride, predominate, 'twill be best to leave her as a toy for some less | cautious fool to sigh for. [Exit. ACT V. Julia. How this message has alarmed me! what dreadful accident can he mean? why such charges to be alone?—O Faulkland! how many unhappy moments, how many tears, have you cost me! Enter FAULKLAND. What means this? why this caution, Faulkland? Faulk. Alas! Julia, I come to take a long farewel. Julia. Heavens! what do you mean? Faulk. You see before you a wretch, whose life is forfeited. Nay, start not! the infirmity of my temper has drawn all this misery on me. I left you fretful and passionate-an untoward accident drew me into a quarrel; the event is, that I must fly this kingdom instantly. O Julia! had I been so fortunate as to have called you mine entirely, before this mischance had fallen on me, I should not so deeply dread my banishment! Julia. My soul is oppressed with sorrow at the nature of your misfortune: had these adverse circumstances arisen from a less fatal cause, I should have felt strong comfort in the thought that I could now chase from your bosom every doubt of the warm sincerity of my love. My heart has long known no other guardian-I now intrust my person to your honour-we will fly together. When safe from pursuit, my father's will may be fulfilled, and I receive a legal claim to be the partner of your sorrows, and tenderest comforter. Then, on the bosom of your wedded Julia, you may lull your keen regret to slumbering; while virtuous love, with a cherub's hand, shall smooth the brow of upbraiding thought, and pluck the thorn from compunction. Faulk. O Julia! I am bankrupt in gratitude! but the time is so pressing, it calls on you for so hasty a resolution! Would you not wish some hours to weigh the advantages you forego, and what little compensation poor Faulkland can make you, beside his solitary love? Julia. I ask not a moment. No, Faulkland, I have loved you for yourself: and if I now, more than ever, prize the solemn engagement which so long has pledged us to each other, it is because it leaves no room for hard aspersions on my fame, and puts the seal of duty to an act of love. But let us not linger. Perhaps this delay Faulk. Twill be better I should not venture out again till dark. Yet am I grieved to think what numberless distresses will press heavy on your gentle disposition! Julia. Perhaps your fortune may be forfeited by this unhappy act? I know not whether 'tis so, but sure that alone can never make us unhappy. The little I have will be sufficient to support us; and exile never should be splendid. Faulk. Ay, but in such an abject state of life, my wounded pride, perhaps, may increase the natural fretfulness of my temper, till I become a rude, morose companion, beyond your patience to endure. Perhaps the recollection of a deed, my conscience cannot justify, may haunt me in such gloomy and unsocial fits, that I shall hate the tenderness that would relieve me, break from your arms, and quarrel with your fondness! Julia. If your thoughts should assume so unhappy a bent, you will the more want some mild and affectionate spirit to watch over and console you: one who, by bearing your infirmities with gentleness and resignation, may teach you so to bear the evils of your fortune. Faulk. Julia, I have proved you to the quick! and with this useless device I throw away all my doubts. How shall I plead to he forgiven this last unworthy effect of my restless, unsatisfied disposition? Julia. Has no such disaster happened, as you related? Faulk. I am ashamed to own, that it was pretended; yet, in pity, Julia, do not kill me with resenting a fault which never can be repeated: but sealing, this once, my pardon, let me to-morrow, in the face of Heaven, receive my future guide and monitress, and expiate my past folly, by years of tender adoration. Julia. Hold, Faulkland!-that you are free from a crime, which I before feared to name, Heaven knows how sincerely I rejoice! These are tears of thankfuluess for that! But that your cruel doubts should have urged you to an impo |