poses your jointure to be one thousand pounds a-year. Miss Wal. General Savage! Gen. Sav. You think this too little, perhaps? Miss Wal. I can't think of any jointure, sir. Tor. Why, to be sure, a jointure is, at best, but a melancholy possession, for it must be purchased by the loss of the husband you love! Miss Wal. Pray, don't name it, Mr Torrington! Gen. Sav. [Kissing her hand.] A thousand thanks to you, my lovely girl ! Miss Wal. For Heaven's sake, let go my hand! Gen. Sav. I shall be mad 'till it gives me legal possession of the town! Miss Wal. Gentlemen-general-Mr Torrington, I-beg you'll hear me! Ger. Sav. By all means, my adorable creature ! I cau never have too many proofs of your disinterested affection. | Tor. I am disappointed myself, man; I shan't have a kiss of the bride. Gen. Sav. At my time of life, too! Tor. I said, from the first, you were too old for her. Gen. Sav. Zounds! to fancy myself sure of her, and to triumph upon a certainty of victory! Tor. Ay, and to kiss her hand in a rapturous return for her tenderness to you :-let me advise you never to kiss before folks, as long as you live again. Gen. Sav. Don't distract me, Torrington! a joke, where a friend has the misfortune to lose the battle, is a downright inhumanity. Tor. You told me, that your son had accused her of something that you would not bear; suppose we call at his lodgings? he, perhaps, as an amicus curie, may be able to give us a little information. Miss Wal. There is a capital mistake in this Gen. Sav. Thank you for the thought-But whole affair—I am sinking under a load of dis-keep your finger more than ever upon your hips, tress! dear Torrington. You know how I dread the danger of ridicule; and it would be too much, not only to be thrashed out of the field, but to be laughed at into the bargain. Gen. San. Your confusion makes you look charmingly, though. Miss Wal. There is no occasion to talk of jointure, or marriages to me; I am not going to be married. Tor. What's this? Miss Wal. Nor have I an idea in nature, however enviable I think the honour, of being your wife, sir. Gen. Sav. Madam! Tor. Why, here's a demur! Hiss Wal. I am afraid, sir, that, in our conversation this morning, my confusion, arising from the particularity of the subject, has led you into a material misconception. Gen. Say. I am thunder-struck, madam ! could not mistake my ground. I Tor. As clear a nol. pros. as ever was issued by an attorney-general. Gen. Sav. Surely you can't forget, that, at the first word, you hung out a flag of truce; told me even, that I had a previous friend in the fort; and did not so much as hint a single article of capitulation ? Tor. Now for the rejoinder to this replication! Miss Wal. All this is unquestionably true, general, and perhaps a good deal more; but in reality, my confusion before you on this subject to-day was such, that I scarcely knew what I said; I was dying with distress, and at this moment am very little better. Permit me to retire, general Savage, and only suffer me to add, that though I think myself highly flattered by your addresses, it is impossible for me ever to receive thein. Lord! Lord! I am glad 'tis over in any manner. | Tor. I thought, when you made a presentment of your sweet person to Miss Walsingham, that the bill would be returned ignoramus. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-BELVILLE'S. MRS BELVILLE, and LADY RACHEL MILDEW, discovered on a sopha. Lady Rach. You heard what captain Savage said? Mrs Bel. I would flatter myself, but my heart will not suffer it; the Park might be too full for the horrid purpose, and perhaps they are gone to decide the quarrel in some other place. Lady Rach. The captain inquired of numbers in the Park, without hearing a syllable of them, and is therefore positive, that they are parted without doing any mischief. Mrs Bel. I am, nevertheless, torn by a thousand apprehensions; and my fancy, with a gloomy kind of fondness, fastens on the most deadly. This very morning, I exultingly numbered myself in the catalogue of the happiest wives. Perhaps I am a wife no longer-perhaps, my little innocents, your unhappy father is this moment breathing his last sigh, and wishing, O, how vainly ! that he had not preferred a guilty pleasure to his own life, to my eternal peace of mind, and your felicity ! Enter SPRUCE. Spruce. Madam! madam! my master! my Mrs Be. Is he safe? [Erit. | master ! Tor. Why, we are a little out of this matter, general; the judge has decided against us, when we imagined ourselves sure of the cause. Gen. Sav. The gates shut in my teeth, just as I expected the keys from the governor! Enter BELVILLE, Bel. My love! Bel. The angel softens! how this rends my heart! Mrs Bel. O, Mr Belville, if you could conceive the agonies I have endured, you would avoid the possibility of another quarrel as long as you lived, out of common humanity. Bel. My dearest creature, spare these tender reproaches! you know not how sufficiently I am punished to see you thus miserable. SCENE II.-Changes to CAPTAIN SAVAGE'S lodgings. Enter CAPTAIN SAVAGE. Capt. Sav. The vehemence of my resentment against this abandoned woman has certainly led me too far. I should not have acquainted her with my discovery of her baseness-no; if I had acted properly, I should have concealed all knowledge of the transaction till the very moment of her guilt, and then burst upon her when she was solacing with her paramour, in all the fulness of security. Now, if she should either alter her Lady Rach. That's pleasant indeed, when you have yourself deliberately loaded her with afflic-mind, with respect to going to the masquerade, tion. Bel. Pray, pray, lady Rachel, have a little mercy! Your poor humble servant has been a very naughty boy-but if you only forgive him this single time, he will never more deserve the rod of correction. Mrs Bel. Since you are returned safe, I am happy. Excuse these foolish tears; they gush in spite of me. Bel. How contemptible do they render me, my love! Lady Pach. Come, my dear, you must turn your mind from this gloomy subject. Suppose we step up stairs, and communicate our pleasure to Miss Walsingham ? Mrs Bel. With all my heart! Adieu, recreant! [Exeunt MRS BEL. and LADY RACH. Bel. I don't deserve such a woman, I don't deserve her. Yet, I believe, I am the first husband that ever found fault with a wife for having too much goodness. Enter SPRUCE. What's the matter? Spruce. Your sister Bel. What of my sister? Spruce. There is a letter left, sir, in which she says, that her motive was dislike to a match with captain Savage, as she has placed her affections unalterably on another gentleman. Bel. Death and damnation! Spruce. Mrs Moreland, your mother, is in the greatest distress, sir, and begs you will immediately go with the servant that brought the message; for he, observing the young lady's maid carrying some bundles out, a little suspiciously, thought there must be some scheme going on, and dogged a hackney coach, in which Miss Moreland went off, to the very house where it set her down. Bel. Bring me to the servant, instantly-but don't let a syllable of this matter reach my wife's ears her spirits are already too much agitated. [Erit. Spruce, Zounds! we shall be paid home for the tricks we have played in other families. [Exit. or go in a different habit, to elude my observation, I not only lose the opportunity of exposing her, but give her time to plan some plausible excuse for her infamous letter to Belville. Enter a Servant. Ser. General Savage and Mr Torrington, sir. Capt. Sav. You blockhead! why did you let them wait a moment?-What can be the meaning of this visit? [Exit Servant. Enter GENERAL SAVAGE, and TORRINGTON. Gen. Sav. I come, Horace, to talk to you about Miss Walsingham. Capt. Sav. She's the most worthless woman existing, sir: I can convince you of it. Gen. Sav. I have already changed my own opinion of her. Capt. Sav. What, you have found her out yourself, sir? Tor. Yes he has made a trifling discovery. Gen. Sav. 'Sdeath! don't make me contemptible to my son. [Aside to TOR. Capt. Sav. But, sir, what instance of her precious behaviour has come to your knowledge? For an hour has scarcely elapsed, since you thought her a miracle of goodness. Tor. Ay, he has thought her a miracle of goodness within this quarter of an hour. Gen. Sav. Why, she has a manner that would impose upon all the world. Capt. Sav. Yes, but she has a manner also to undeceive the world thoroughly. Tor. That we have found pretty recently. However, in this land of liberty, none are to be pronounced guilty, 'till they are positively convicted: I can't, therefore, find against Miss Walsingham, upon the bare strength of presumptive evidence. Capt. Sav. Presumptive evidence!-hav'n't I promised you ocular demonstration? Tor. Ay, but till we receive this demonstration, my good friend, we cannot give judgment. Capt. Sav. Then I'll tell you at once, who is the object of her honourable affections. Gen. Sav. Who-who? Capt. Sav. What would you think if they were placed on Belville? Gen. Sav. Upon Belville! has she deserted to him from the corps of virtue? Capt. Sav. Yes, she wrote to him, desiring to be taken from the masquerade to some convenient scene of privacy; and, though I have seen the letter, she has the impudence to deny her own hand. Gen. Sav. What a fiend is there then, disguised under the uniform of an angel! Tor. The delicate creature, that was dying with confusion! Capt. Sav. Only come with me to the masquerade, and you shall see Belville carry her off. Twas about the scandalous appointment with him I was speaking, when you conceived I treated her so rudely. Gen. Sav. And you were only anxious to shew her in her real character to me, when I was so exceedingly offended with you? Capt. Sav. Nothing else in the world, sir. I knew you would despise and detest her, the moment you were acquainted with her baseness. Gen. Sav. How she brazened it out before my face, and what a regard she affected for your interest! I was a madman not to listen to your explanation. Tor. Though you both talk this point well, I still see nothing but strong presumption against Miss Walsingham: Mistakes have already happened, mistakes may happen again; and I will not give up a lady's honour upon an evidence that would not cast a common pickpocket at the Old Bailey. Capt. Sav. Come to the masquerade then, and be convinced. Gen. Sao. Let us detach a party for dresses immediately. Yet remember, Torrington, that the punctuality of evidence, which is necessary in a court of law, is by no means requisite in a court of honour. Tor. Perhaps it would be more to the honour of your honourable courts if it was. [Exeunt. SCENE V.-Changes to an apartment at BELVILLE behind, speaking to a maid. Bel. My dear, you must excuse me. Maid. Indeed, sir, you must not go up stairs. Bel. Indeed, but I will; the man is positive to the house, and I'll search every room in it, from the cellar to the garret, if I don't find the lady. James, don't stir from the street-door. Enter BELVILE, followed by the Maid. Maid. Sir, you are the strangest gentleman I ever met with in all my born days:-I wish my mistress was at home. Bel. A lady, I suppose? Lee. Suppose it is, sir? Bel. And the lady's name is Miss Moreland, isn't it, sir? Lee. I can't see what business you have with. her name, sir. You took away my sister, and I hope you have no designs upon the lady in the next room? Bel. Indeed, but I have. Con. Well, this is the most unaccountable man I ever heard of: he'll have all the women in the town, I believe. Lee. And pray, sir, what pretensions have you to the lady in the next room, even supposing her to be Miss Moreland? Bel. No other pretensions than what a brother Bel. I am a strange fellow, my dear-But if should have to the defence of his sister's honour: your mistress was at home, I should take the li-You thought yourself authorised to cut my throa berty of peeping into the apartments. a while ago, in a similar business. Lee. And is Miss Moreland your sister? Bel. Sir, there is insolence in the question; you know she is. Lee. By heaven, I did not know it till this moment! but I rejoice at the discovery: This is blow for blow! Con. Devil burn me but they have fairly made a swop of it! Bel. And you really didn't know that Miss Moreland was my sister? Lee. I don't conceive myself under much necessity of apologizing to you, sir; but I am incapable of a dishonourable design upon any woman; and though Miss Moreland, in our short acquaintance, repeatedly mentioned her brother, she never once told me, that his name was Bel Bel. Well, Mr Leeson, our families have shewn such a very strong inclination to come together, that it would really be a pity to disappoint them. Con. Upon my soul and so it would! though the dread of being forced to have a husband, the young lady tells us, quickened her resolution to marry this gentleman. and save yourself the trouble of an expedition to Scotland. Lee. Can I believe you serious? Bel. Zounds, Leeson, that air of surprise is a sad reproach! I didn't surprise you, when I did a bad action, but I raise your astonishment, when I do a good one. Con. And by my soul, Mr Belville, if you knew how a good action becomes a man, you'd never do a bad one as long as you lived. Lee. You have given me life and happiness in one day, Mr Belville! however, it is now time you should see your sister. I know you will be gentle with her, though you have so much reason to condemn her choice, and generously remember, that her elopement proceeded from the great improbability there was of a beggar's ever meeting with the approbation of her family. Bel. Don't apologize for your circumstances, Leeson; a princess could do no more than make you happy; and if you make her so, you meet her upon terms of the most perfect equality. Lee. This is a new way of thinking, Mr Belville. Bel. 'Tis only an honest way of thinking; and I consider my sister a gainer on the occasion; for a man of your merit is more difficult to be found, than a woman of her fortune. [Exeunt LEESON and BELVILLE. Con. What's the reason now, that I can't skip, and laugh, and rejoice, at this affair? Upon my soul, my heart's as full as if I had met with some great misfortune. Well, pleasure in the extreme is certainly a very painful thing; and I am really Bel. O she had no violence of that kind to ap- ashamed of these woman's drops, and yet I don't prehend from her family; therefore, Mr Leeson, know but that I ought to blush for being ashamsince you seem as necessary for the girl's happi-ed of them; for I am sure nobody's eye looks ever ness as she seems for yours, you shall marry her half so well, as when it is disfigured by a tear of here in town, with the consent of all her friends, humanity. [Eril SCENE I-A drawing-room. Enter BELVILLE, ACT V. Bel. WELL, happiness is once more mine, and the women are all going in tip-top spirits to the masquerade. Now, Mr Belville, let me have a few words with you. Miss Wassingham, the ripe, the luxurious Miss Walsingham, expects to find you there burning with impatience-But, my dear friend, after the occurrences of the day, can you be weak enough to plunge into fresh crimes? Can you be base enough to abuse the goodness of that angel your wife; and wicked enough, not only to destroy the innocence, which is sheltered beneath your own roof, but to expose your family, perhaps, again to the danger of losing a son, a❘ brother, a father, and a husband? The possession of the three Graces is surely too poor a recompense for the folly you must commit, for the shame you must feel, and the consequence you must hazard. Upon my soul, if I struggle a little longer, I shall rise in my own opinion, and be less a rascal than I think myself:—Ah, but the object is bewitching-the matter will be an eternal secret-and if it is known that I sneak in this pitiful manner from a fine woman, when the whole elysium of her person solicits me!—well, and am I afraid the world should know that I have shrunk from an infamous action?-A thousand blessings on you, dear conscience, for that one argument-I shall be an honest man after all. Suppose, however, that I give her the meeting? that's dangerous-that's dangerous :—and I am so little accustomed to do what is right, that I shall certainly do what is wrong, the moment I am in the way of temptation. Come, Belville, your resolution is not so very slender a dependence; and you owe Miss Walsingham repara a-year. tion for the injury which you have done her prin- | day in the hospital, is, I suppose, a snug Enter LADY RACHEL and MRS BELVILLE. Lady Rach. For mirth's sake, don't let him see us: There has been a warm debate between his passion and his conscience. Mrs Bel. And the latter is the conqueror, my life for it. Lady Rach. Dear Mrs Belville, you are the best of women, and ought to have the best of husbands. Mrs Bel. I have the best of husbands. Lady Rach. I have not time to dispute the matter with you now; but I shall put you into my comedy, to teach wives, that the best receipt for matrimonial happiness, is to be deaf, dumb, and blind. Mrs Bel. Poh, poh! you are are a satirist, lady Rachel!-But we are losing time; should not we put on our dresses, and prepare for the grand scene? Lady Rach. Don't you tremble at the trial? Mrs Bel. Not in the least; I am sure my heart has no occasion. Lady Rach. Have you let Miss Walsingham into our little plot? Mrs Bel. You know she could not be insensible of Mr Belville's design upon herself; and it it is no farther than that design, we have any thing to carry into execution. Lady Rach. Well, she may serve to facilitate the matter; and, therefore, I am not sorry that you have trusted her. Mrs Bel. We shall be too late; and, then, what signifies all your fine plotting? Lady Rach. Is it not a little pang of jealousy that would fain quicken our motions? hundred Ghast. Better than two; I wash for near four thousand people: there was a major of horse who put in for it, and pleaded a large familySpruce. With long service, I suppose? Ghast. Yes; but Mrs Tempest insisted upon my long services; so the major was set asideHowever, to keep the thing from the damned news-papers, I fancy he will succeed the barber, who died last night, poor woman, of a lying-infever, after being brought to bed of three children.-Places in public institutions Spruce. Are often sweetly disposed of: I think of asking Belville for something, one of these days. Ghast. He has great interest. Spruce. I might be a justice of peace, if 1 pleased, and in a shabby neighbourhood, where the mere swearing would bring in something tolerable: but there are so many strange people let into the commission now a-days, that I shou'dn't like to have my name in the list. Ghast. You are right. Spruce. No, no; I leave that to paltry tradesmen, and shall think of some little sinecure, or a small pension on the Irish establishment. Ghast. Well, success attend you! I must hobble home as fast as I can, to know if Mrs Tempest has any orders. O, there's a rare storm brewing for our old goat of a general! Spruce. When shall we crack a bottle together? Ghast. O, I shan't touch a glass of claret these three weeks; for last night I gave nature a little filip with a drunken bout, according to the doctor's directions. I have entirely left off bread, and I am in great hopes that I shall get rid of the gout by these means, especially if I can learn to eat my meat quite raw, like a cannibal. Spruce. Ha, ha, ha! Ghast. Look at me, Spruce; I was once as likely a young fellow as any under ground in the whole parish of St James's :-but waiting on the general so many years Mrs Bel. No, lady Rachel, it is a certainty of my husband's love and generosity, that makes me wish to come to the trial. I would not exchange my confidence in his affection for all the minesly? of Peru; so, nothing you can say can make me miserable. Lady Rach. You are a most unaccountable woman; so, away with you. [Exeunt. Enter SPRUCE and GHASTLY. Spruce. Why, Ghastly, the old general, your master, is a greater fool than I ever thought he was: He wants to marry Miss Walsingham. Ghast. Mrs Tempest suspected that there was something going forward, by all his hugger-mugger consulting with Mr Torrington: and so set me on to listen. Spruce. She's a good friend of yours; and that thing she made the general give you the other VOL. II. Spruce. Ay, and following his example, Ghast Ghast. Tis too true-has reduced me to what you see. These miserable spindles would do very well for a lord or a duke, Spruce; but they are a sad disgrace to a poor valet de chambre. [Exit. Spruce. Well, I don't believe there's a gentleman's gentleman, within the weekly bills, who joins a prudent solicitude for the main chance, to a strict care of his constitution, better than myself. I have a little girl, who stands me in about three guincas a week. I never bet more than a pound upon a rubber of whist; I always sleep with my head very warm; and swallow a new-laid egg every morning with my chocolate. 6 K [Exit, |
