SCENE I.-The North Parade.

Enter Captain ABSOLUTE.

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 connexion with her yet awhile.-He has too summary a method of proceeding in these matters. However, I'll read my recantation instantly.-My conversion is something sudden, indeed-but I can assure him it is very sincere. So, so,-here he comes.- -He looks plaguy gruff. [Steps aside.

Enter Sir ANTHONY ABSOLUTE. 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 him; he's anybody's son for me. I never will see him more, never-never -never-never!

Abs. [Aside, coming forward.] Now for a penitential face.

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.

Sir Anth. Why now you talk sense-absolute sense-I never heard anything 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, stayI 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 anything 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-odd so !-yes-yes; if my father indeed had desired-that's quite another matter. Though he wa'n't the indulgent father that I am, Jack.

Abs. I dare say not, sir.

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 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 lieI'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 Promethean torch to you,— come 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.

FAULKLAND discovered alone.

Faulk. They told me Julia would return directly; I wonder she is not yet come !-How mean does this captious, unsatisfied temper of mine appear 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 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 happythough 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.

Enter JULIA.

Jul. 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?

Jul. 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?

Jul. 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 cheek of parting lovers is a compact, that no smile shall live there till they meet again.

Jul. 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.

Jul. I never can be happy in your absence.-If I wear a countenance of content, it is to show 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 my own credulity. Believe me, Faulkland, 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.-Oh, I am a brute, when I but admit a doubt of your true constancy!

Jul. If ever without such cause from you, as I will not suppose possible, you find my affections 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!

Jul. 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.

Jul. 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.

Jul. 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?

Jul. 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!

Jul. 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, nor 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 suspi

cious of its birth.

I

Jul. I know not whither your insinuations would tend-but as they seem pressing to insult me, 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 anything! her going away must have been a mere trick then she sha'n't see that I was hurt by it. I'll affect indifference-[Hums a tune: then listens.] No-zounds! she's 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 tenderness !-'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. 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.

Abs. Permit me to say, madam, that as I never yet have had the pleasure of seeing Miss Languish, 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.-[They 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, ma'am ;-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 show fruit, till time

has robbed them of the more specious blossom.Few, like Mrs. Malaprop and the orange-tree, 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, eaves-dropping ensign, whom none of us have seen, and nobody knows anything of.

Abs. Oh, I have heard the silly affair before.— I'm not at all prejudiced against her on that account.

Mrs. Mal. You are very good and very considerate, captain. I am sure I have done everything 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, ma'am. 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. Oh, the devil! my last note.
Mrs. Mal. Ay, here it is.
Abs. Ay, my note indeed!

[Aside.

O the little traitress [Aside. Lucy. 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 beforeMrs. Mal. Nay, but read it, captain. Abs. [Reads.] My soul's idol, my adored Lydia !-Very tender indeed!

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

Abs. [Reads.] I am excessively alarmed at the intelligence you send me, the more so as my new rival

Mrs. Mal. That's you, sir.

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

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

Abs. That he had, I'll answer for him, ma'am. Mrs. Mal. But go on, sir,-you'll see presently. Abs. [Reads.] As for the old weather-beaten she-dragon 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!-[Reads.] it shall go hard but I will elude her vigilance, as 1 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 anything 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- -[Reads.] same ridiculous vanity

Mrs. Mal. You need not read it again, sir. Abs. I beg pardon, ma'am.-[Reads.] does also lay her open to the grossest deceptions from flattery and pretended admiration-an impudent coxcomb! -so that I have a scheme to see you shortly with the old harridan's consent, and even to make her a go-between in our interview.-Was ever such assurance!

Mrs. Mal. Did you ever hear anything like it? -he'll elude my vigilance, will he-yes, yes! ha! ha! he's very likely to enter these doors;-we'll try who can plot best!

Abs. So we will, ma'am-so we will.-Ha! ha! ha! a conceited puppy, ha! ha! ha!--Well, but, Mrs. Malaprop, as the girl seems so infatuated by this fellow, suppose you were to wink at her corresponding with him for a little time-let her even plot an elopement with him-then do you connive at her escape-while I, just in the nick, will have the fellow laid by the heels, and fairly contrive to carry her off in his stead.

Mrs. Mal. I am delighted with the scheme; never was anything better perpetrated!

Abs. But, pray, could not I see the lady for a few minutes now?—I should like to try her temper a little.

Mrs. Mal. Why, I don't know-I doubt she is not prepared for a visit of this kind.-There is a decorum in these matters.

Abs. O Lord! she won't mind me-only tell her Beverley

Mrs. Mal. Sir!

Abs. Gently, good tongue.

[Aside.

Mrs. Mal. What did you say of Beverley? Abs. Oh, I was going to propose that you should tell her, by way of jest, that it was Beverley who was below-she'd come down fast enough thenha ha ha!

Mrs. Mal. 'Twould be a trick she well deserves -besides, you know the fellow tells her he'll get my consent to see her-ha! ha!-Let him if he can, I say again.-Lydia, come down here!— [Calling.] He'll make me a go-between in their interviews!-ha! ha! ha!-Come down, I say, Lydia!-I don't wonder at your laughing, ha! ha! ha! his impudence is truly ridiculous.

Abs. 'Tis very ridiculous, upon my soul, ma'am,

ha ha ha!

Mrs. Mal. The little hussy won't hear.-Well, I'll go and tell her at once who it is--she shall know that captain Absolute is come to wait on her. And I'll make her behave as becomes a young

woman.

Abs. As you please, ma'am.

Mrs. Mal. For the present, captain, your servant.-Ah! you've not done laughing yet, I see-elude my vigilance! yes, yes; ha! ha! ha! [Exit.

Abs. Ha ha ha! one would think now that I might throw off all disguise at once, and seize my prize with security-but such is Lydia's caprice, that to undeceive were probably to lose her. I'll see whether she knows me.

[Walks aside, and seems engaged in looking at the pictures.

Enter LYDIA.

Lyd. What a scene am I now to go through! surely nothing can be more dreadful than to be obliged to listen to the loathsome addresses of a stranger to one's heart.-I have heard of girls'

Lyd. O heavens ! Beverley! Abs. Hush-hush, my life! softly! be not surprised!

Lyd. I am so astonished! and so terrified ! and so overjoyed!-for Heaven's sake! how came you here?

Abs. Briefly, I have deceived your aunt-I was informed that my new rival was to visit here this evening, and contriving to have him kept away, have passed myself on her for captain Absolute. Lyd. O charming !-And she really takes you for young Absolute?

Abs. Oh, she's convinced of it.

Lyd. Ha ha ha! I can't forbear laughing to think how her sagacity is overreached !

Abs. But we trifle with our precious momentssuch another opportunity may not occur-then let me now conjure my kind, my condescending angel, to fix the time when I may rescue her from undeserving persecution, and with a licensed warmth plead for my reward.

Lyd. Will you then, Beverley, consent to forfeit that portion of my paltry wealth ?—that burden on the wings of love?

Abs. Oh, come to me-rich only thus-in loveliness!-Bring no portion to me but thy love'twill be generous in you, Lydia-for well you know, it is the only dower your poor Beverley can repay.

Lyd. How persuasive are his words! - how charming will poverty be with him? [Aside.

Abs. Ah! my soul, what a life will we then live! Love shall be our idol and support! we will worship him with a monastic strictness; abjuring all worldly toys, to centre every thought and action there.-Proud of calamity, we will enjoy the wreck of wealth; while the surrounding gloom of adversity shall make the flame of our pure love show doubly bright.-By Heavens! I would fling all goods of fortune from me with a prodigal hand, to enjoy the scene where I might clasp my Lydia to my bosom, and say, the world affords no smile to me but here -[Embracing her.] If she holds out now, the devil is in it! [Aside.

Lyd. Now could I fly with him to the antipodes! but my persecution is not yet come to a crisis.

[Aside.

[Aside.

Abs. Oh, confound her vigilance ! Mrs. Mal. Captain Absolute, I know not how to apologise for her shocking rudeness.

Abs. [Aside.] So-all's safe, I find.—[Aloud.] I have hopes, madam, that time will bring the young lady

Mrs. Mal. Oh, there's nothing to be hoped for from her she's as headstrong as an allegory on the banks of Nile.

Lyd. Nay, madam, what do you charge me with now?

Mrs. Mal. Why, thou unblushing rebel-didn't you tell this gentleman to his face that you loved another better?-didn't you say you never would be his?

Lyd. No, madam-I did not.

Mrs. Mal. Good Heavens! what assurance !Lydia, Lydia, you ought to know that lying don't become a young woman!-Didn't you boast that Beverley, that stroller Beverley, possessed your heart? Tell me that, I say.

Lyd. 'Tis true, ma'am, and none but BeverleyMrs. Mal. Hold !-hold, Assurance!-you shall not be so rude.

Abs. Nay, pray, Mrs. Malaprop, don't stop the young lady's speech :-she's very welcome to talk thus-it does not hurt me in the least, I assure you.

Mrs. Mal. You are too good, captain-too amiably patient-but come with me, miss-Let us see you again soon, captain-remember what we have fixed.

Abs. I shall, ma'am.

Mrs. Mal. Come, take a graceful leave of the gentleman.

Lyd. May every blessing wait on my Beverley, my loved Bev

Mrs. Mal. Hussy! I'll choke the word in your throat!-come along-come along.

[Exeunt severally; Captain ABSOLUTE kissing his hand to LYDIA-Mrs. MALAPROP stopping her from speaking.

SCENE IV.-ACRES's Lodgings.

ACRES, as just dressed, and DAVID. Acres. Indeed, David-do you think I become it so?

Dav. You are quite another creature, believe me, master, by the mass! an' we've any luck we shall see the Devon monkerony in all the printshops in Bath!

Acres. Dress does make a difference, David. Dav. 'Tis all in all, I think.-Difference! why, an' you were to go now to Clod-hall, I am certain the old lady wouldn't know you: master Butler wouldn't believe his own eyes, and Mrs. Pickle would cry, Lard presarve me! our dairy-maid would come giggling to the door, and I warrant Dolly Tester, your honour's favourite, would blush

like my waistcoat.-Oons! I'll hold a gallon, there an't a dog in the house but would bark, and I question whether Phillis would wag a hair of her tail!

Acres. Ay, David, there's nothing like polishing. Dav. So I says of your honour's boots; but the boy never heeds me!

Acres. But, David, has Mr. De-la-grace been here? I must rub up my balancing, and chasing, and boring.

Dav. I'll call again, sir.

Acres. Do-and see if there are any letters for me at the post-office.

Dav. I will.-By the mass, I can't help looking at your head!—if I hadn't been by at the cooking, I wish I may die if I should have known the dish again myself! [Exit.

Acres. [Practising a dancing-step.] Sink, slide -coupee.-Confound the first inventors of cotillons! say I-they are as bad as algebra to us country gentlemen--I can walk a minuet easy enough when I am forced!—and I have been accounted a good stick in a countrydance.-Odds jigs and tabors! I never valued your cross-over to couple-figure in-right and left-and I'd foot it with e'er a captain in the county!-but these outlandish heathen allemandes and cotillons are quite beyond me !—I shall never prosper at 'em, that's sure-mine are true-born English legs-they don't understand their curst French lingo.!-their pas this, and pas that, and pas t'other!-damn me! my feet don't like to be called paws! no, 'tis certain I have most Antigallican toes!

Sir Luc. Mr. Acres, I am delighted to embrace you. Acres. My dear sir Lucius, I kiss your hands. Sir Luc. Pray, my friend, what has brought you so suddenly to Bath?

Acres. Faith! I have followed Cupid's Jack-alantern, and find myself in a quagmire at last.In short, I have been very ill used, sir Lucius.—I don't choose to mention names, but look on me as on a very ill-used gentleman.

Sir Luc. Pray what is the case?-I ask no

names.

Acres. Mark me, sir Lucius, I fall as deep as need be in love with a young lady-her friends take my part-I follow her to Bath-send word of my arrival; and receive answer, that the lady is to be otherwise disposed of. This, sir Lucius, I call being ill used.

Sir Luc. Very ill, upon my conscience.-Pray, can you divine the cause of it?

Acres. Why, there's the matter: she has another lover, one Beverley, who, I am told, is now in Bath. -Odds slanders and lies! he must be at the bottom of it. Sir Luc. A rival in the case, is there?-and you think he has supplanted you unfairly? Acres. Unfairly! to be sure he has. He never could have done it fairly.

Sir Luc. Then sure you know what is to be done!

C