you think it possible, that I should have so pre- Stew. Nay, 'tis not my interest, but your hoposterous a thought? No, my behaviour shall de-nour's. Though that, indeed, I may call my inserve, but not over-rule, her inclinations. Were I terest, for I am sure I love your honour. to seize the tender opportunity of her present dis- Sir John. I know thou dost, Jonathan; and I position, the world would ascribe it to her for- am too hasty-but leave me now. If the gentune; and I am sure my deceased and valuable tleman will do me the favour of staying all night, friend, however kindly he meant to me in this af- I may satisfy him in the morning. My head and fair, never intended that I should make his daugh-heart are too full now, for any business which ter unhappy. concerns my fortune. Ara. But I tell you she loves you; and you must, and shall marry her. Sir John. Ah, sister, you are willing to disposte of her any way. That worthless lover of yours still hangs about your heart, and I have avoided seeing him on your account, as well as Celia's. Ara. To shew how mistaken you are in all this, I have given him up totally. I despise, and hate him; nay, I am upon the brink of a resolution to give myself to another.-[SIR JOHN shakes his head.]-I am, I assure you; his friend, Mr Belmour, is by no means indifferent on the subject. Sir John. And is this revenge on yourself, a proof of your want of passion for him?—Ah, Araminta! Come, come, my dear; I own I think him unworthy of you, and would resent his usage to the utmost, did not I clearly perceive that it would appear mercenary in myself, and give real pain both to you and Celia. [Exit SIR JOHN. Stew. Something goes very wrong with my poor master. Some love nonsense or other, I suppose. I wish all the women were in the bottom of the sea, for my part. [Exit Steward. Enter LADY BEVERLEY and CELIA. Lady Bev. I thought it requisite, sir John, as I heard you had something of importance to transact with my daughter, to wait upon you with her. Sir John. Was that necessary, madam? I begged the favour of Miss Beverley's company only. Lady Bev. But a mother, you know, sir John, who has a tender concern for her child Sir John. Should shew it on every occasion. Lady Bev. I find, sir John, there is some misunderstanding at present, which a woman of prudence and experience might be much better consulted upon, than a poor young thing, whose Sir John. Not at all, madam; Celia has all the prudence I require, and our present conver Ara. I actually don't know what to say to you. Sir John. You had better say nothing. Your spirits, at present, are too much alarmed. I have sent for Celia hither; a short hour may determine the fate of all of us. I know my honoura-sation will soon be over. ble intentions will give her great uneasiness. But it is my duty which exacts them from me. You had better take a turn or two in some other part of the garden: I see my steward coming this way; I may want your assistance but too [Exit ARA. soon. Enter the Steward. Have you brought these papers I bade you look for? Stew. Yes, sir. But there is the gentleman within to wait upon your honour, concerning the estate you intended to purchase. It seems a mighty good bargain, Sir John. I cannot speak to him now. Stew. Your honour always used to be punctual. Sir John. Alas! Jonathan, I may be punctual again to-morrow. Give me the papers. Did Miss Beverley say she would come to me? Stew. Immediately, sir. But I wish your honour would consider, such bargains as these do not offer every day. Sir John. Heigh ho! Stew. It joins so conveniently, too, to your honour's own estate- -within a hedge, as I may say. Sir John. Prithee, don't plague me. Lady Bev. Nay, sir John, to be sure I am not afraid of trusting my daughter alone with you.A man of your discretion will undoubtedly be guilty of no impropriety. But a third person, sometimes, where the parties concerned are a little too much influenced by their passions, has occasioned very substantial, and very useful effects. I have known several instances of it, in the course of my experience. Sir John. This, madam, will not be one of them. How teasing? [Walking aside. Lady Bev. I find, sir John, that you are determined to have your own way, and therefore will shew you, by my behaviour, that I know what good manners require; though I do not always meet with the same treatment from other people. [Exit LADY BEV. Sir John. Now, Celia, we are alone, and I have many excuses to make to you for the impassioned sallies of our late conversation, which I do most sincerely-Can you pardou them? Celia. Alas! sir, 'tis I who ought to entreat pardon. Sir John. Not in the least, madam; I have no blame to cast upon you for any part of your conduct. Your youth and inexperience, joined to the goodness of your heart, are sufficient apole terruption, madam, when I find you thus a- Celia. [Rising.]-I would choose to be alone. Celia. [After a little pause.]-In short, Mr Modely, your behaviour to me, of late, is what I can by no means approve of. It is unbecoming your character as a man of honour; and would be a stain to the ingenuous modesty of my sex for me to suffer. Mode. You surprise me, madam! Can the adoration of an humble love-the timid advance of a man, whom your beauty has undone, be such unpardonable offences? gies for any shadow of indiscretion which might [CELIA looks with indignation at him, and is going off. Mode. [Catching hold of her, and falling on his knees.]-Nay, madam, you must not leave me. Celia. Rise, sir, or I am gone this moment. I thought of flying from you, but my soul disdains Know, then, sir, that I am mistress of myself; mistress of my fortune; and may bestow my hand wherever my heart directs it. Mode. My angel! [Coming eagerly up to her. Celia. What do you mean? Mode. That you may make the most sincere of Celia. My tears and my confusion have hi- lovers the happiest of mankind. The addition therto hindered me from answering; not the in- of your fortune will add splendour to our felicividious suggestion, which you have so cruellyty; and the frowns of disappointed love only charged me with. What friend, what lover have heighten our enjoyments. 1, to engross my attentions? I never had but one, and he has cast me off for ever. O, sir, give me the papers, and let me return them where my soul longs to place them. Celia. Oh, thou vile one! how does that cruel, generous man, who has rejected me, rise on the comparison! Mode. Rejected you!-Sir John Dorilant! Celia. Yes, Mr Modely, that triumph, at least, yours. I have offered myself, and been refused. My hand and fortune equally disdained. But may perpetual happiness attend him, whereever his honest, honest heart shall fix! Sir John. No, Celia; to accept them again would impeach the justice of my whole proceed-is ing. It would make it look like the mean artifice of a mercenary villain, who attempted to gain, by stratagem, what his merits did not entitle him to. I blush to think of it. I have performed my office. Be mistress of yourself, and let me fly from a combat to which I find myself unequal. [Exit SIR JOHN. [CELIA sits down, leaning her hand on her head. Enter MODELY and BELMour. Mode. Hist! Hist! He has just left her, and in a fine situation for my approaches. If you are not yet satisfied, I will make up all differences with you another time. Get into the arbour, and be a witness of my triumph. You shall see me, like another Cæsar-Come, see, and overcome. Mode. O, madam, your inexperience deceives you. He knows the integrity of your mind, and trusts to that for recompense. His seeming disinterestedness is but the surer method of completing his utmost wishes. Celia. Blasphemer, stop thy tongue! The purity of his intentions is as much above thy malice, as thy imitation. [She walks to one side of the stage, and MODELY stands disconcerted on the other. Enter LADY BEVERLEY. Lady Bev. Well, child, what has the man said to thee? Cousin Modely, your servant! you find our plot would not take; they were too quick upon us. Hey day! what has been doing here? [BEL. goes into the arbour. Mode. [Comes forward, walks two or three Mode. O, madam, you are my only refage! a turns by her, bowing as he passes, without being wretch, on the brink of despair, flies to you for taken notice of, then speaks.]—If it is not an in-protection. That amiable creature is in full VOL. II. 5 M possession of herself and fortune, and yet rejects my tenderest solicitations. Lady Bev. Really! What is all this? Tell me, Celia, has the man actually given up all right and title to thee, real and personal? Come, come; I must be a principal actress, I find, in this affair. Decency and decorum require it. Tell me, child, is it so? Celia. Sir John Dorilant, madam, with a generosity peculiar to himself, (cruel generosity!) has cancelled every obligation which could confine my choice. These papers confirm the freedom he has given me and rob me of all future comfort. Lady Bev. Indeed! I did not expect this of him; but I am heartily glad of it. Give me the papers, child. Celia. No, madam: useless as they are, they are yet my own. Lady Bev. Useless!-What do you mean? Has the base man laid any other embargo on the child? Celia. I cannot bear, madam, even from you, to hear sir John Dorilant treated with disrespect. Useless!-Yes, they shall be useless. Thus, thus, I tear them into atoms! and disdain a liberty, which but too justly reproaches my conduct.Your advice, madam, has already made me miserable; but it shall not make me ungrateful or unjust. [Exit CELIA. Lady Bev. I am astonished! I never saw the girl in such a way before.-Why, this is arrant disobedience, cousin Modely! I must after her, and know the bottom of it.-Don't despair. Ara. Agreeable rascal! [Aside.]-Be quiet, can't you; you think one so forward, now. Mode. I cannot, will not be restrained, when the dear object of my wishes meets me with kind compliance in her eyes and voice! -To-morrow!---'Tis an age---why should we wait for that? To-night, my angel! to-night may make us one; and the fair prospect of our halcyon days even from this hour begin. Ara. Who would not think this fellow, with his blank verse now, was in earnest? But I know him thoroughly. [Aside.]-Indeed, Mr Modely, you are too pressing; marriage is a serious thing. Besides, you know, this idle bustle betwixt my brother and Celia, which you seem to think me ignorant of, and which you, in some measure, though undesignedly, I daresay, have occasioned, may obstruct us a little. Mode. Not at all, my dear; an amusement en passant; the mere raillery of gallantry on my side, to oblige her impertinent mother (who, you know, has a penchant for sir John herself) was the whole insignificant business.- -Perhaps, indeed, I was something blameable in it. Ara. Why, really, I think so, in your situation. But are you sure it went no further?---nothing else passed between you? Mode. Nothing in nature. Ara. Dear me, how mistaken people are! I cannot say that I believed it; but they told me, that you had actually proposed to marry her; that the girl was near consenting; and that the mother was your friend in the affair. [Exit LADY BEVERLEY.dy Bel. [Coming out of the arbour.] Come, see, overcome!-O poor Cæsar! Mode. [Humming a tune.] You think I disconcerted now? am Bel. Why, really, I should think something of that kind. Mode. You never were more mistaken in your life.-Egad! 'tis a spirited girl. She and sir John Dorilant were certainly born for one another. I have a good mind to take compassion of them, and let them come together. They must and shall be man and wife, and I will e'en go back to Araminta. Bel. Thou hast a most astonishing assurance! Mode. Hush-She is coming this way!-get into your hole again, and be dumb.- -Now you shall see a scene of triumph indeed. Bel. Have a care, Cæsar! you have the Britons [Retires. to deal with. Enter ARAMINTA. Ara. What are they gone, and my wretch here by himself? O that I could dissemble a little! I will, if my heart bursts for it.-0, Mr Modely, I am half ashamed to see you! but my brother has signed those odious writings! Mode. Then, thus I seize my charmer! Mode. The mere malice and invention of laBeverley. Ara. And there is not a word of truth in it, then? Mode. Not a syllable-You know my soul is yours. Ara. O thou villain!-I thought to have kept my temper, and to have treated you with the contempt you deserve; but this insolence is intolerable !---Can you imagine that I am a stranger to your proceedings? a deaf, blind idiot ?— O, I could tear this foolish heart, which, cheated by its passion, has encouraged such an insult !—— How, how have I deserved this treatment? [Bursting into tears. Mode. [Greatly alarmed.] By holy faith! by every power above! you, and you only, are the passion of my soul!--May every curse Ara. Away, deceiver! these tears are the tears of resentment.---My resolution melts not in my eyes. 'Tis fixed unalterably! You might imagine, from the gaiety of my temper, that it had its levity, too: But know, sir, that a woman, who has once been duped, defies all future machina air, free as your licentious principles. Nor shall a thought of what I once esteemed, disturb my future quiet. There are men who think me not contemptible, and under whose protection I may shelter my disgrace.-Unhand me!--This is the last time I shall probably ever see you; and I may tell you, in parting, that you have used me cruelly, and that Celia knows you as perfectly as I do. [Exit ARA.---MOD. stands confounded. Enter BELMOUR. Bel. Cæsar ashamed !-----And well he may, 'faith!--Why, man, what is the matter with you? Quite dumb? quite confounded?--Did not I always tell you that you loved her? Mode. I feel it sensibly. Bel. And I can tell you another secretMode, What's that? Bel. That she loves you. Mode. O that she did! Bel. Did-Every word, every motion of passion through her whole conversation, betrayed it involuntarily. I wish it had been otherwise. Mode. Why? Bel. Because I had some thoughts of circumventing you. But I find it will be in vain. Therefore, pursue her properly, and she is yours. Mode. O never, Belmour, never! I have sinned beyond a possibility of pardon. That she did love me, I have had a thousand proofs, which, like a brainless idiot, I wantonly trifled with.What a pitiful rascal have I made myself? Bel. Why, in that I agree with you; but don't despair, man; you may still be happier than you deserve. Mode. With what face can I approach her? Every circumstance of her former affection now rises in judgment against me. O, Belmour, she has taught me to blush! Bel. And I assure you it becomes you mightily. Mode. Where can I apply? How can I address her? All that I can possibly do, will only look like a mean artificial method of patching up my other disappointment. Bel. More miracles still! She has not only taught you to blush, but has absolutely made a man of honour of you! Mode. Raillery is out of season. Enter a Servant. Ser. Mrs Araminta, sir, desires to speak with you. Mode. [Eagerly.] With me? Ser. No, sir, with Mr Belmour. Ser. Yes, sir. Bel. Where is she? Ser. In the close walk by the house, sir. Bel. I'll wait upon her this instant. [Exit Servant. Mode. Belmour, you shall not stir. Bel. By my faith, but I will, sir! Mode. She said there were men to whom she could fly for protection. By my soul, she intends to propose herself to you! Bel. And if she does, I shall certainly accept her offer. Mode. I'll cut your throat, if you do. Bel. And do you think to fright me by that? I fancy I can cut throats as well as other people. Your servant. If I cannot succeed for myself, I'll speak a good word for you. [Exit. Mode. What can this mean? I am upon thorns till I know the event. I must watch them. No, that is dishonest. Dishonest! How virtuous does a real passion make one!-Heigh ho! [Walks about in disorder.] He seems in great haste to go to her. He has turned into the walk already. That abominable old-fashioned cradle-work makes the hedges so thick, there is no seeing through them. An open lawn has ten thousand times the beauty, and is kept at less expence by half. These cursed unnatural chairs are always in the way, too. [Stumbling against one of the gardenchairs.] What a miserable dog am I?—I would give an arm to know what they are talking about. We talk of female coquettes! By my soul, we beat them at their own weapons!-Stayone stratagem I may yet put in practice, and it is an honest one. The thought was lucky. I will about it instantly. Poor Modely! How has thy vanity reduced thee! [Exit. ACT V. SCENE I.-Scene continues. Enter ARAMINTA and BELmour. Ara. You find, Mr Belmour, that I have seen your partialities, and, like a woman of honour, I have confessed my own. Your behaviour to your friend is generous beyond comparison, and I could almost join in the little stratagem you propose, merely to see if he deserves it. Bel. Indeed, madam, you mistake him utterly. Vanity is his ruling vice; an idle affectation of success among the ladies, which makes fools admire, and boys envy him, is the master-passion of his giddy heart. The severe checks he has met with to-day, have sufficiently opened his understanding; and the real possession of one valuable woman, whom he dreads to lose, will soon convince him how despicable his folly has made him. Ara. I am afraid, Mr Belmour, a man who has, half his life, been pursuing bubbles, without perceiving their insignificance, will be easily tempted to resume the chase. The possession of one reality will hardly convince him that the rest were shadows. And a woman must be an idiot indeed, who thinks of fixing a man to herself after marriage, whom she could not secure before it. To begin with insensibility !-O fy, Mr Modely! Bel. You need not fear it, madam; his heartAra. Is as idle as our conversation on the subject. I beg your pardon for the comparison, as I do, for having sent for you in this manner. But I thought it necessary, that both you and Mr Modely should know my real sentiments, undisguised by passion. Bel. And may I hope you will concur in my proposal? the world, they only, in my eye, make him more contemptible. Mode. This I can bear, sir John—because I have deserved it. Sir John. You may think, perhaps, it is only an idle affair with a lady, what half mankind are guilty of, and what the conceited wits of your acquaintance will treat with raillery. Faith with a woman! ridiculous!--But let me tell you, Mr Modely, the man who, even slightly, deceives a believing and a trusting woman, can never be a man of honour. Mode. I own the truth of your assertions. I feel the awful superiority of your real virtue. Nor should any thing have dragged me into your presence, so much I dreaded it, but the sincerest hope of making you happy. Sir John. Making me happy, Mr Modely!You have put it out of your own power. [Walks from him, then turns to him again.] You mean, suppose, by a resignation of Celia to me? Mode. Not of Celia only, but her affections. Sir John. Vain and impotent proposal! Ara. I don't know what to say to it; it is a piece of mummery, which I am ill suited for at present. But if an opportunity should offer, II must confess I have enough of the woman in me, not to be insensible to the charms of an innocent revenge. But this other intricate business, if you can assist me in that, you will oblige me beyond measure. They are two hearts, Mr Belmour, worthy to be united! Had my brother a little less honour, and she a little less sensibility---But I know not what to think of it. Bel. In that, madam, I can certainly assist you. Ara. How, dear Mr Belmour? Bel. I have been a witness, unknown to Celia, to such a conversation, as will clear up every doubt sir John can possibly have entertained. As I Ara. You charm me when you say so. live, here comes my brother! Stay; is not that wretch, Modely, with him? He is actually. What can his assurance be plotting now? Come this way, Mr Belmour; we will watch them at a distance, that no harm may happen between them, and talk to the girl first. The monster! [Exeunt. Enter SIR JOHN DORILANT and MODELY. Mode. [Entering, and looking after ARA. and BEL.] They are together still! But let me resume my nobler self. Sir John. Why will you follow me, Mr Modely? I have purposely avoided you. My heart | swells with indignation. I know not what may be the consequence. Mode. Upon my honour, sir John Sir John. Honour, Mr Modely! 'tis a sacred word. You ought to shudder when you pronounce it. Honour has no existence but in the breast of truth. "Tis the harmonious result of every virtue combined. You have sense, you have knowledge; but, I can assure you, Mr Modely, though parts and knowledge, without the dictates of justice, or the feelings of humanity, may make a bold and mischievous member of society even courted by Mode. Sir John, 'tis not a time for altercation. By all my hopes of bliss here and hereafter, you are the real passion of her soul! Look not so unbelieving by Heaven 'tis true! and nothing but an artful insinuation of your never intending to marry her, and even concurring in our affair, could ever have made her listen one moment to me. Sir John. Why do I hear you?-O, Mr Modely, you touch my weakest part! Mode. Cherish the tender feeling, and be happy. Sir John. Is it possible that amiable creature can think and talk tenderly of me? I know her generosity; but generosity is not the point. Mode. Believe me, sir, 'tis more; 'tis real unaffected passion. Her innocent soul speaks through her eyes the honest dictates of her heart. In our last conference, notwithstanding her mother's commands; notwithstanding-what I blush to own-my utmost ardent solicitations to the contrary, she persisted in her integrity, tore the papers which left her choice free, and treated us with an indignation which added charms to virtue. Sir John. O these flattering sounds!—Would I could believe them! Mode. Belmour, as well as myself, and lady Beverley, was a witness of the truth of them. İ thought it my duty to inform you, as I know your delicacy with regard to her. And indeed I would in some measure endeavour to repair the injuries I have offered to your family, before I leave it for ever--O, sir John, let not an illjudged nicety debar you from a happiness, which stands with open arms to receive you. Think what my folly has lost in Araminta; and, when your indignation at the affront is a little respited, be blest yourself, and pity me-[As he goes out, |