Mrs Oak. Why, you wont let me speak! Mrs Oak. Was there ever such a monster! I can bear this no longer. [Bursts into tears.] O you vile man! I can see through your designyou cruel, barbarous, inhuman-such usage to your poor wife!you'll be the death of her. real truth. I can explain every thing to your satisfaction. Mrs Oak. May be so-I cannot argue with you. uneasy. -Hush! [Apart. Oak. She shan't be the death of me, I am de- Maj. HushApart. termined. Har. I understand, madam, that your first Mrs Oak. That it should ever come to this!-alarm was occasioned by a letter from my father To be contradicted--[Sobbing.]-insulted-abus- to your nephew. ed-hated-'tis too much-my heart will burst with-oh-oh!--[Falls into a fit. HARRIOT, CHARLES, &c. run to her assistance,] Oak. [Interposing.] Let her alone. Har. Sir, Mrs Oakly Cha. For Heaven's sake, sir, she will beOak. Let her alone, I say; I won't have her touched-let her alone-if her passions throw her into fits, let the strength of them carry her through them. Har. Pray, my dear sir, let us assist her. may She Ŏak. I don't care-you shan't touch her-let her bear them patiently-she'll learn to behave better another time- -Let her alone, I say. Mrs Oak. [Rising.] O you monster!-you villain !—you base man! Would you let me die for want of help?—would you— Rus. I was in a bloody passion to be sure, madam!-The letter was not over civil, I believeI did not know but the young rogue had ruined my girl-But its all over now, and so Mrs Oak. You was here yesterday, sir? Rus. Yes, I came after Harriot. I thought I should find my young madam with my young sir, here. Mrs Oak. With Charles, did you say, sir? Rus. Ay, with Charles, madam! The young rogue has been fond of her a long time, and she of him, it seems. Mrs Oak. I fear I have been to blame. [Aside. Rus. I ask pardon, madam, for the disturbance I made in your house. Har. And the abrupt manner in which I came into it, demands a thousand apologies. But the Oak. Bless me! madam, your fit is very vio-occasion must be my excuse. lent-take care of yourself. Mrs Oak. Despised, ridiculed-but I'll be revenged-you shall see, sir Oak. Tol-de-rol loll-de-rol loll-de-rol loll! [Singing. Mrs Oak. What, am I made a jest of? Exposed to all the world?—If there's law or jus tice Oak. Tol-de-rol loll-de-rol loll-de-rol loll! [Singing. Mrs Oak. I shall burst with anger-Ilave a care, sir, you may repent this-Scorned and made ridiculous!-No power on earth shall hinder my revenge! [Going, Har. [Interposing.] Stay, madam. Mrs Oak. Let me go. I cannot bear this place. ders. Har. Let me beseech you, madain. Oak. What does the girl mean? [Apart. Maj. Courage, brother! you have done won[Apart. Oak. I think she'll have no more fits. [Apart. Har. Stay, madam-Pray stay but one moment. I have been a painful witness of your uneasiness, and in great part the innocent occasion of it. Give me leave then Mrs Oak. I did not expect, indeed, to have found you here again. But, however Har. I see the agitation of your mind, and it makes me miserable. Suffer me to tell you the VOL. II. Mrs Oak. How have I been mistaken! [Aside. -But did not I overhear you and Mr Oakly----[TO HARRIOT. Har. Dear madam! you had but a partial hearing of our conversation. It related entirely to this gentleman. Cha. To put it beyond doubt, madam, Mr Russet and my guardian have consented to our marriage; and we are in hopes that you will not withhold your approbation. Mrs Oak. I have no further doubt-I see you are innocent, and it was cruel to suspect youYou have taken a load of anguish off my mind— and yet your kind interposition comes too late. Mr Oakly's love for me is entirely destroyed. [Weeping. [Apart. Apart. Oak. I must go to her-Maj. Not yet!--Not yet! Har. Do not disturb yourself with such apprehensions. I am sure Mr Oakly loves you most affectionately. Oak. I can hold no longer. [Going to her.] My affection for you, madam, is as warm as ever. Nothing can ever extinguish it. My constrained behaviour cut me to the soul-For, within these few hours, it has been all constrained and it was with the utmost difficulty that I was able to support it. Mrs Oak. O, Mr Oakly, how have I exposed myself! What low arts has my jealousy induced 5 K me to practise! I see my folly, and fear that you can never forgive me. have had an admirable effect, and so don't be angry with your physician. Mrs Oak. I am indeed obliged to you, and I Oak. Forgive you ! -You are too good, my love!-Forgive you !-Can you forgive me?-feelThis change transports me - Brother! Mr Russet! Charles! Harriot! give me joy!-I am the happiest man in the world. Maj. Joy, much joy to you both! though, by the by, you are not a little obliged to me for it. Did not I tell you I would cure all the disorders in your family? I beg pardon, sister, for taking the liberty to prescribe for you. My medicines have been somewhat rough, I believe, but they Oak. Nay, my dear, no more of this. All that's past must be utterly forgotten. Mrs Oak. I have not merited this kindness, but it shall, hereafter, be my study to deserve it. Away with all idle jealousies! And since my suspicions have hitherto been groundless, I am resolved for the future never to suspect at all. [Exeunt omnes. Scene-A garden belonging to SIR JOHN DORILANT's house in the country, with an arbour, garden-chairs, &c. SCENE I.-A garden. ACT I. Enter ARAMINTA with an affected carelessness, and knotting; MODELY following. Mode. BUT, madam! Ara. But, sir! what can possibly have alarmed you thus? You see me quite unconcerned. I only tell you in a plain, simple, narrative manner (this plaguy thread)-and merely by way of conversation, that you are in love with Cælia; and where is the mighty harm in all this? Mode. The harm in it, madam! have I not told you a thousand and a thousand times, that you were the only woman who could possibly make me happy? Ara. Why, aye, to be sure you have, and sworn a thousand and a thousand oaths to confirin that assertion. Mode. And am not I here now, expressly to marry you? Ara. Why, that, too, is true-but-you are in love with Cælia. Mode. Bless me, madam, what can I say to you? If it had not been for my attendance upon you, I had never known Cælia, or her mother either-though they are both my relations. The mother has since indeed put some kind of confidence in me-she is a widow, you know— Ara. And wants consolation! The poor orphan, too, her daughter!-Well, charity is an excellent virtue. I never considered it in that light before. You are vastly charitable, Mr Modely. Mode. It is impossible to talk with you.-If you will not do me justice, do it to yourself, at least. Is there any comparison betwixt you and you. Ara. Girls are not quite so ignorant as you may imagine, Mr Modely; Cælia will understand you, take my word for it, and does understand As to your men of judgment and sense, here is my brother, now;-I take him to be full as reasonable as yourself, and somewhat older; and yet, with all his philosophy, he has brought himself to a determination at last, to fulfil the father's will, and marry this green girl. I am sorry to tell you so, Mr Modely, but he will certainly marry her. Mode. Let him marry her. I should perhaps do it myself, if I was in his place. He was an intimate friend of her father's. She is a great fortune, and was given to him by will. But do you imagine, my dear Araminta, that if he was left to his own choice, without any bias, he would not rather have a woman nearer his own years? He might almost be her father. for the future, and act the lover to Araminta ten times stronger than ever. One would not give her up till one was sure of succeeding in the other place. Enter BELMOUR from behind, with a book in his hand. Bel. Ha, ha, ha! Well said, Modely! Mod. [Starting.] Belmour!-how the deuce came you here? Bel. How came I here!--How came you here, if you come to that? A man can't retire from the noise and bustle of the world, to admire the beauties of the spring, and read pastoral in an arbour, but impertinent lovers must disturb his meditations. Thou art the arrautest hypocrite, Modely-[Throwing away the book. Mod. Hypocrite !---My dear friend, we men of gallantry must be so. But have a care! we may have other listeners for aught I know, who may not be so proper for confidants. [Looking about. Bel. You may be easy on that head. We have the garden to ourselves. The widow and her daughter are just gone in, and sir John is busy with his steward. Mod. The widow, and her daughter! Why, were they in the garden? Bel. They just came into it; but upon seeing you and Araminta together, they turned back again. Ara. That is true. But you will find it diffi- Mode. On seeing me and Araminta! I hope I cult to persuade me, that youth in a woman is so have no jealousies there, too. However, I am insurmountable an objection. I fancy, Mr Mode-glad Cælia knows I am in the garden, because it may probably induce her to fall in my way-by chance, you know, and give me an opportunity of talking to her. ly, it may be got over. Suppose I leave you to think of it.-(I cannot get this right.) [Going. Mode. Stay, dear Araminta! why will you plague me thus? Your own charms, my earnestness, might prove to you Ara. I tell you I don't want proofs. Mode. Well, well, you shall have none, then. But give me leave to hope, since you have done me the honour to be a little uneasy on my ac count Ara. Uneasy!-I uneasy! What does the man mean?-I was a little concerned, indeed, to give you uneasiness by informing you of my brother's intended marriage with Calia. But-this shuttle bends so abominably.-[Aside.] Mode. Thou perplexing tyrant! Nay, you shall not go. May I continue to adore you? you must not forbid me that. Ara. For my part, I neither command nor forbid any thing. Only this I would have you remember, I have quick eyes. Your servant. I wish this knotting had never come in fashion. [Aside.] [Exit ARA. Mode. Quick eyes, indeed! I thought my cunning here had been a master-piece. The girl cannot have told, sure! and the mother is entirely on my side. They certainly were those inquisitive eyes she speaks of, which have found out this secret. Well, I must be more cautious Bel. Do you think she likes you? Mode. Why, faith, I think I do. Bel. Why, then, do you pursue your affair with Araminta; and not find some honourable means of breaking off with her? Mode. That might not be quite so expedient. I think Araminta the finest woman, and Cælia the prettiest girl, I know. Now, they are both good fortunes, and one of them I am resolved to have, but which— Bel. Your great wisdom has not yet determined. Thou art undoubtedly the vainest fellow living. I thought you brought me down here now to your wedding? Mode. 'Egad, I thought so, too; but this plaguy little rustic has disconcerted all my schemes. Sir John, you know, by her father's will, may marry her if he pleases, and she forfeits her estate if she marries any one else. Now, I am contriving to bring it about, that I may get her, and her fortune, too. Bel. A very likely business, truly. So you modestly expect that sir John Dorilant should give up his mistress, and then throw her fortune into the bargain, as an additional reward to the obliging man who has seduced her from him? Mode. Hum! why, I don't expect quite that. But, you know, Belmour, he is a man of honour, and would not force her inclinations, though he loved her to distraction.-Come, come, he is quite a different creature from what you and I are. Bel. Speak for yourself, good sir; yet, why should you imagine that her inclinations are not as likely to fix upon him as you? He has a good person, and is scarce older than yourself. Mode. That shews your ignorance; I am ten years younger than he is. My dress, and the company I keep, give a youth and vivacity to me, which he must always want. An't I a man of the town? O that town, Belinour! Could I but have met these ladies there, I had done the busi ness. Bel. Were they never there? Mode. Never.-Sir Harry Beverley, the father of this girl, lived always in the country, and divided his time between his books and his hounds. His wife and daughter seldom mixed with people of their own rank, but at a horse-race, or a rural visit. And see the effects! The girl, though she is naturally genteel, has an air of simplicity. Bel. But does not want sense. Mode. No, no! She has a devilish deal of that kind of sense, which is acquired by early reading. I have heard her talk occasionally, like a queen in a tragedy; or, at least, like a sentimental lady in a comedy, much above your misses of thirty in town, I assure you. As to the mother-but she is a character, and explains herself. Bel. Yes, yes; I have read her. But pray, how came it to pass, that the father, who was of a different way of thinking in regard to party, should have left sir John guardian to his daughter, with the additional clause, too, of her being obliged to marry him? Mode. Why, that is somewhat surprising. But the truth of the case was, they were thoroughly acquainted, and each considered party as the foible of the other. Sir Harry thought a good husband his daughter's best security for happiness; and he knew it was impossible sir John Dorilant should prove a bad one. Bel. And yet this prospect of happiness would you destroy? Mode. You will have an admirable opportunity to-night we are to have the fiddles, you know, and you may dance with her. When music softens, and when dancing fires! Eh! Bellmour? Bel. You are vastly kind to sir John, and would ease him, I find, of both his mistresses.But, suppose this man of honour should be fool enough to resign his mistress, may not another kind of honour oblige him to run you through the body for deserting his sister? Mode. Why, faith, it may. However, it is not the first duel I have fought on such an occasion; so I am his man. Not that it is impossible but he may have scruples there, too. Bel. You don't think him a coward? Mode. I know he is not. But your reasoning men have strange distinctions. They are quite different creatures, as I told you, from you and me. Bel. You are pleased to compliment. But, suppose now, as irrational as you think me, I should find out a means to make this whole affair easy to you? Mode. How do you mean? Bel. Not by attacking the widow, but by making my addresses, in good earnest, to Araminta. Mode. I forbid that absolutely. Bel. What, do you think it possible I should succeed after the accomplished Mr Modely? Mode. Why, faith, between you and me, I think not; but I don't chuse to hazard it. Bel. Then you love her still? Mode. I confess it. Bel. And it is nothing upon earth but that insatiable vanity of yours, with a little tincturo of avarice, that leads you a gadding thus? Mode. I plead guilty. But, be it as it will, I am determined to pursue my point. And see, where the little rogue comes most opportunely. I told you she would be here. Go, go, Belmour -you must not listen to all my love scenes.→→ [Exit BEL.-Now for a serious face, a little upon the tragic; young girls are mighty fond of despairing lovers. Enter CELIA. Celia. [With an affected surprise.]—Mr ModeMode. No, no; I only see farther than sirly!-Are you here?--I am come to meet my Harry did, and would increase that happiness, by giving her a better husband. Bel. Oh! your humble servant, sir. Mode. Besides, the mother is entirely in my interest, and, by the by, bas a hankering after sir John herself. He is a sober man, and should have a woman of discretion for his wife; not a hoydening girl. 'Egad, Belmour, suppose you attacked the widow? the woman is young enough, and has an excellent jointure. Bel. And so become your father-in-law? mammaa-I did not think to meet you here. Mode. Are you sorry to find me here, ma dam? Celia. Why should I be sorry, Mr Modely? Mode. May I hope you are pleased with it? Celia. I have no dislike to company. Mode. But is all company alike? Surely one would choose one's companions. Would it have been the same thing to you, if you had met sir John Dorilant here? Celia. I should be very ungrateful, if I did not |