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Acres. O mercy!-now-that I was safe at Clod-Hall! or could be shot before I was aware!

Enter FAULKLAND and Captain ABSOLUTE. Sir Luc. Gentlemen, your most obedient.Ha! what, captain Absolute! So, I suppose, sir, you are come here, just like myself to do a kind office, first for your friend-then to proceed to business on your account.

Acres. What, Jack !-my dear Jack!-my dear friend!

Abs. Heark'ee, Bob, Beverley's at hand.

Sir Luc. Well, Mr. Acres-I don't blame your saluting the gentleman civilly.-[TO FAULKLAND.] So, Mr. Beverley, if you'll choose your weapons, the captain and I will measure the ground.

Faulk. My weapons, sir!

Acres. Odds life! sir Lucius, I'm not going to fight Mr. Faulkland; these are my particular friends.

Sir Luc. What, sir, did not you come here to fight Mr. Acres?

Faulk. Not I, upon my word, sir.

Sir Luc. Well, now, that's mighty provoking! But I hope, Mr. Faulkland, as there are three of us come on purpose for the game, you won't be so cantanckerous as to spoil the party by sitting

out.

Abs. Oh pray, Faulkland, fight to oblige sir Lucius.

Faulk. Nay, if Mr. Acres is so bent on the

matter

Acres. No, no, Mr. Faulkland; I'll bear my disappointment like a Christian.-Look'ee, sir Lucius, there's no occasion at all for me to fight; and if it is the same to you, I'd as lieve let it alone.

Sir Luc. Observe me, Mr. Acres-I must not be trifled with. You have certainly challenged somebody, and you came here to fight him. Now, if that gentleman is willing to represent him, I can't see, for my soul, why it isn't just the same thing.

Acres. Why no, sir Lucius; I tell you, 'tis one Beverley I've challenged; a fellow, you see, that dare not show his face! If he were here, I'd make him give up his pretensions directly!

Abs. Hold, Bob, let me set you right; there is no such man as Beverley in the case. The person who assumed that name is before you; and as his pretensions are the same in both characters, he is ready to support them in whatever way you please. Sir Luc. Well, this is lucky! Now you have an opportunity

Acres. What, quarrel with my dear friend Jack Absolute? not if he were fifty Beverleys! Zounds! sir Lucius, you would not have me so unnatural.

Sir Luc. Upon my conscience, Mr. Acres, your valour has oozed away with a vengeance!

Acres. Not in the least! Odds backs and abettors! I'll be your second with all my heart; and if you should get a quietus, you may command me entirely. I'll get you snug lying in the Abbey here; or pickle you, and send you over to Blunderbuss-hall, or anything of the kind, with the greatest pleasure.

Sir Luc. Pho! pho! you are little better than a coward.

Acres. Mind, gentlemen, he calls me a coward; coward was the word, by my valour ! Sir Luc. Well, sir?

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Sir Luc. Well then, captain, 'tis we must begin -so come out, my little counsellor-[Draws his sword] and ask the gentleman, whether he will resign the lady, without forcing you to proceed against him?

Abs. Come on then, sir ;-[Draws] since you won't let it be an amicable suit, here's my reply. Enter Sir ANTHONY ABSOLUTE, DAVID, Mrs. MALAPROP, LYDIA, and JULIA.

Dav. Knock 'em all down, sweet sir Anthony; knock down my master in particular; and bind his hands over to their good behaviour !

Sir Anth. Put up, Jack, put up, or I shall be in a frenzy-how came you in a duel, sir?

Abs. Faith, sir, that gentleman can tell you better than I; 'twas he called on me, and you know, sir, I serve his majesty.

Sir Anth. Here's a pretty fellow; I catch him going to cut a man's throat, and he tells me, he serves his majesty ? Zounds! sirrah, then how durst you draw the king's sword against one of his subjects?

Abs. Sir, I tell you, that gentleman called me out, without explaining his reasons.

Sir Anth. Gad! sir, how came you to call my son out, without explaining your reasons?

Sir Luc. Your son, sir, insulted me in a manner which my honour could not brook.

Sir Anth. Zounds! Jack, how durst you insult the gentleman in a manner which his honour could not brook?

Mrs. Mal. Come, come, let's have no honour before ladies.-Captain Absolute, come here. How could you intimidate us so? Here's Lydia has been terrified to death for you.

Abs. For fear I should be killed, or escape, ma'am?

Mrs. Mal. Nay, no delusions to the past-Lydia is convinced; speak, child.

Sir Luc. With your leave, ma'am, I must put in a word here: I believe I could interpret the young lady's silence. Now mark

Lyd. What is it you mean, sir?

Sir Luc. Come, come, Delia, we must be serious now; this is no time for trifling.

Lyd. 'Tis true, sir; and your reproof bids me offer this gentleman my hand, and solicit the return of his affections.

Abs. Oh! my little angel, say you so!-Sir Lucius, I perceive there must be some mistake here, with regard to the affront which you affirm I have given you. I can only say, that it could not have been intentional. And as you must be convinced, that I should not fear to support a real injury, you shall now see that I am not ashamed

to atone for an inadvertency-I ask your pardon. But for this lady, while honoured with her approbation, I will support my claim against any man whatever.

Sir Anth. Well said, Jack, and I'll stand by you, my boy.

Acres. Mind, I give up all my claim; I make no pretensions to anything in the world; and if I can't get a wife, without fighting for her, by my valour! I'll live a bachelor.

:

Sir Luc. Captain, give me your hand an affront handsomely acknowledged becomes an obligation; and as for the lady, if she chooses to deny her own hand-writing, here- [Takes out letters. Mrs. Mal. Oh, he will dissolve my mystery!Sir Lucius, perhaps there's some mistake, perhaps I can illuminate

Sir Luc. Pray, old gentlewoman, don't interfere where you have no business.-Miss Languish, are you my Delia, or not?

Lyd. Indeed, sir Lucius, I am not.

[Walks aside with Captain ABSOLUTE. Mrs. Mal. Sir Lucius O'Trigger, ungrateful as you are, I own the soft impeachment: pardon my blushes, I am Delia.

Sir Luc. You Delia ! pho! pho! be easy.

Mrs. Mal. Why, thou barbarous Vandyke those letters are mine! When you are more sensible of my benignity, perhaps I may be brought to encourage your addresses.

Sir Luc. Mrs. Malaprop, I am extremely sensible of your condescension; and whether you or Lucy have put this trick upon me, I am equally beholden to you. And to show you I am not ungrateful, captain Absolute, since you have taken that lady from me, I'll give you my Delia into the bargain.

Abs. I am much obliged to you, sir Lucius; but here's my friend, fighting Bob, unprovided for.

Sir Luc. Ha, little Valour! here, will you make your fortune?

Acres. Odds wrinkles! no.-But give me your hand, Sir Lucius, forget and forgive; but if ever I give you a chance of pickling me again, say Bob Acres is a dunce, that's all.

Sir Anth. Come, Mrs. Malaprop, don't be cast down-you are in your bloom yet.

Mrs. Mal. O sir Anthony! men are all barbarians. [All retire but JULIA and FAULKLAND. Jul. [Aside.] He seems dejected and unhappy -not sullen-there was some foundation, however, for the tale he told me. O woman! how true should be your judgment, when your resolution is so weak!

Faulk. Julia! how can I sue for what I so little deserve? I dare not presume-yet Hope is the child of penitence.

Jul. O Faulkland! you have not been more faulty in your unkind treatment of me, than I am now in wanting inclination to resent it. As my heart honestly bids me place my weakness to the account of love, I should be ungenerous not to admit the same plea for yours.

Faulk. Now I shall be blest indeed!

Sir Anth. [Coming forward.] What's going on here? So you have been quarrelling too, warrant !-Come, Julia, I never interfered before; but let me have a hand in the matter at last.-All the faults I have ever seen in my friend Faulkland seemed to proceed from what he calls the delicacy and warmth of his affection for you.-There, marry him directly, Julia; you'll find he'll mend surprisingly! [The rest come forward.

Sir Luc. Come, now, I hope there is no dissatisfied person, but what is content; for as I have been disappointed myself, it will be very hard if I have not the satisfaction of seeing other people succeed better.

Acres. You are right, sir Lucius.-So, Jack, I wish you joy. Mr. Faulkland the same.-Ladies, come now, to show you I'm neither vexed nor angry, odds tabors and pipes! I'll order the fiddles in half an hour to the New Rooms, and I insist on your all meeting me there.

Sir Anth. 'Gad! sir, I like your spirit; and at night we single lads will drink a health to the young couples, and a husband to Mrs. Malaprop.

Faulk. Our partners are stolen from us, JackI hope to be congratulated by each other-yours for having checked in time the errors of an illdirected imagination, which might have betrayed an innocent heart; and mine for having, by her gentleness and candour, reformed the unhappy temper of one, who by it made wretched whom he loved most, and tortured the heart he ought to have adored.

Abs. Well, Jack, we have both tasted the bitters as well as the sweets of love; with this difference only, that you always prepared the bitter cup for yourself, while I—

Lyd. Was always obliged to me for it, hey! Mr. Modesty?-But come, no more of that-our happiness is now as unallayed as general.

Jul. Then let us study to preserve it so: and while hope pictures to us a flattering scene of future bliss, let us deny its pencil those colours which are too bright to be lasting. When hearts deserving happiness would unite their fortunes, virtue would crown them with an unfading garland of modest hurtless flowers; but ill-judging passion will force the gaudier rose into the wreath, whose thorn offends them when its leaves are dropped!

[Exeunt omnes.

EPILOGUE,

BY THE AUTHOR.

SPOKEN BY MRS. BULKLEY.

LADIES, for you-I heard our poet sayHe'd try to coax some moral from his play: "One moral's plain," cried I, "without more

fuss;

Man's social happiness all rests on us :

Through all the drama-whether damn'd or notLove gilds the scene, and women guide the plot. From every rank obedience is our due

D'ye doubt ?—The world's great stage shall prove it true."

The cit, well skill'd to shun domestic strife, Will sup abroad; but first he'll ask his wife : John Trot, his friend, for once will do the same, But then-he'll just step home to tell his dame. The surly squire at noon resolves to rule, And half the day-Zounds! madam is a fool! Convinced at night, the vanquish'd victor says, Ah, Kate! you women have such coaxing ways! The jolly toper chides each tardy blade, Till reeling Bacchus calls on Love for aid: Then with each toast he sees fair bumpers swim, And kisses Chloe on the sparkling brim !

Nay, I have heard that statesmen-great and wise

Will sometimes counsel with a lady's eyes;
The servile suitors watch her various face,
She smiles preferment, or she frowns disgrace,
Curtsies a pension here-there nods a place.
Nor with less awe, in scenes of humbler life,
Is view'd the mistress, or is heard the wife.

The poorest peasant of the poorest soil,
The child of poverty, and heir to toil,
Early from radiant Love's impartial light
Steals one small spark to cheer this world of night :
Dear spark! that oft through winter's chilling woes
Is all the warmth his little cottage knows!

The wandering tar, who not for years has press'd
The widow'd partner of his day of rest,
On the cold deck, far from her arms removed,
Still hums the ditty which his Susan loved;
And while around the cadence rude is blown,
The boatswain whistles in a softer tone.

The soldier, fairly proud of wounds and toil,
Pants for the triumph of his Nancy's smile;
But ere the battle should he list her cries,
The lover trembles-and the hero dies !
That heart, by war and honour steel'd to fear,
Droops on a sigh, and sickens at a tear!

But ye more cautious, ye nice-judging few,
Who give to beauty only beauty's due,
Though friends to love-ye view with deep regret
Our conquests marr'd, our triumphs incomplete,
Till polish'd wit more lasting charms disclose,
And judgment fix the darts which beauty throws !
In female breasts did sense and merit rule,
The lover's mind would ask no other school;
Shamed into sense, the scholars of our eyes,
Our beaux from gallantry would soon be wise;
Would gladly light, their homage to improve,
The lamp of knowledge at the torch of love!

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SCENE I-Lieutenant O'CONNOR'S Lodgings.

Enter Serjeant TROUNCE, Corporal FLINT, and four Soldiers.

1 Sol. I say you are wrong; we should all speak together, each for himself, and all at once, that we may be heard the better.

2 Sol. Right, Jack, we'll argue in platoons.

3 Sol. Ay, ay, let him have our grievances in a volley, and if we be to have a spokesman, there's the corporal is the lieutenant's countryman, and knows his humour.

Flint. Let me alone for that. I served three years within a bit, under his honour, in the Royal Inniskillions, and I never will see a sweeter tempered gentleman, nor one more free with his purse. I put a great shamrock in his hat this morning, and I'll be bound for him he'll wear it, was it as big as Steven's Green.

4 Sol. I say again then you talk like youngsters, like militia striplings: there's a discipline, look'ee, in all things, whereof the serjeant must be our guide; he's a gentleman of words; he understands your foreign lingo, your figures, and suchlike auxiliaries in scoring. Confess now for a reckoning, whether in chalk or writing, ben't he your only man!

Flint. Why the serjeant is a scholar to be sure, and has the gift of reading.

Trounce. Good soldiers, and fellow-gentlemen, if you make me your spokesman, you will show the more judgment; and let me alone for the argu

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Trounce. So please your honour, the very grievance of the matter is this::-ever since your honour differed with Justice Credulous, our innkeepers use us most scurvily. By my halbert, their treatment is such, that if your spirit was willing to put up with it, flesh and blood could by no means agree; so we humbly petition that your honour would make an end of the matter at once, by running away with the justice's daughter, or else get us fresh quarters-hem! hem!

O'Con. Indeed! Pray which of the houses use

you ill?

1 Sol. There's the Red Lion an't half the civility of the old Red Lion.

2 Sol. There's the White Horse, if he wasn't casehardened, ought to be ashamed to show his face. O'Con. Very well; the Horse and the Lion shall answer for it at the quarter sessions.

Trounce. The two Magpies are civil enough;

but the Angel uses us like devils, and the Rising Sun refuses us light to go to bed by.

O'Con. Then, upon my word, I'll have the Rising Sun put down, and the Angel shall give security for his good behaviour; but are you sure you do nothing to quit scores with them?

Flint. Nothing at all, your honour, unless now and then we happen to fling a cartridge into the kitchen fire, or put a spatterdash or so into the soup; and sometimes Ned drums up and down stairs a little of a night.

O'Con. Oh, all that's fair: but hark'ee, lads, I must have no grumbling on St. Patrick's day; so here, take this, and divide it amongst you. But observe me now,-show yourselves men of spirit, and don't spend sixpence of it in drink.

Trounce. Nay, hang it, your honour, soldiers should never bear malice; we must drink St. Patrick's and your honour's health.

All. Oh, damn malice! St. Patrick's and his honour by all means.

Flint. Come away, then, lads, and first we'll parade round the Market-cross, for the honour of king George.

1 Sol. Thank your honour.-Come along; St. • Patrick, his honour, and strong beer for ever! [Exeunt Soldiers. O'Con. Get along, you thoughtless vagabonds! yet, upon my conscience, 'tis very hard these poor fellows should scarcely have bread from the soil they would die to defend.

Enter Doctor Rosy.

Ah, my little Doctor Rosy, my Galen a-bridge, what's the news?

Rosy. All things are as they were, my Alexander; the justice is as violent as ever: I felt his pulse on the matter again, and, thinking his rage began to intermit, I wanted to throw in the bark of good advice, but it would not do. He says you and your cut-throats have a plot upon his life, and swears he had rather see his daughter in a scarlet fever than in the arms of a soldier.

O'Con. Upon my word the army is very much obliged to him! Well, then, I must marry the girl first, and ask his consent afterwards.

Rosy. So then, the case of her fortune is desperate, hey?

O'Con. Oh, hang fortune!-let that take its chance; there is a beauty in Lauretta's simplicity, so pure a bloom upon her charms.

Rosy. So there is, so there is. You are for beauty as nature made her, hey! No artificial graces, no cosmetic varnish, no beauty in grain, hey! O'Con. Upon my word, doctor, you are right; the London ladies were always too handsome for me; then they are so defended, such a circumvallation of hoop, with a breast-work of whalebone, that would turn a pistol-bullet, much less Cupid's arrows, then turret on turret on top, with stores of concealed weapons, under pretence of black pins, -and above all, a standard of feathers that would do honour to a knight of the Bath. Upon my conscience, I could as soon embrace an Amazon, armed at all points.

Rosy. Right, right, my Alexander! my taste to a tittle.

O'Con. Then, doctor, though I admire modesty in women, I like to see their faces. I am for the changeable rose; but with one of these quality

Amazons, if their midnight dissipations had left them blood enough to raise a blush, they have not room enough in their cheeks to show it. To be sure, bashfulness is a very pretty thing; but, in my mind, there is nothing on earth so impudent as an everlasting blush.

Rosy. My taste, my taste !-Well, Lauretta is none of these. Ah! I never see her but she puts me in mind of my poor dear wife.

O'Con. Ay, faith; in my opinion she can't do a worse thing. Now he is going to bother me about an old hag that has been dead these six years! [Aside.

Rosy. Oh, poor Dolly! I never shall see her like again; such an arm for a bandage-veins that seemed to invite the lancet. Then her skin, smooth and white as a gallipot; her mouth as round and not larger than the mouth of a penny phial; her lips conserve of roses; and then her teeth-none of your sturdy fixtures-ache as they would, it was but a small pull, and out they came. I believe I have drawn half a score of her poor dear pearls.[Weeps.] But what avails her beauty? Death has no consideration-one must die as well as another.

O'Con. [Aside.] Oh, if he begins to moralise[Takes out his snuff-box. Rosy. Fair and ugly, crooked or straight, rich or poor-flesh is grass-flowers fade!

O'Con. Here, doctor, take a pinch, and keep up your spirits.

Rosy. True, true, my friend; grief can't mend the matter-all's for the best; but such a woman was a great loss, lieutenant.

O'Con. To be sure, for doubtless she had mental accomplishments equal to her beauty.

Rosy. Mental accomplishments! she would have stuffed an alligator, or pickled a lizard, with any apothecary's wife in the kingdom. Why, she could decipher a prescription, and invent the ingredients, almost as well as myself: then she was such a hand at making foreign waters !-for Seltzer, Pyrmont, Islington, or Chalybeate, she never had her equal; and her Bath and Bristol springs exceeded the originals.-Ah, poor Dolly! she fell a martyr to her own discoveries.

O'Con. How so, pray?

Rosy. Poor soul! her illness was occasioned by her zeal in trying an improvement on the Spa-water, by an infusion of rum and acid.

O'Con. Ay, ay, spirits never agree with waterdrinkers.

Rosy. No, no, you mistake. Rum agreed with her well enough; it was not the rum that killed the poor dear creature, for she died of a dropsy. Well, she is gone never to return, and has left no pledge of our loves behind. No little babe, to hang like a label round papa's neck. Well, well, we are all mortal-sooner or later-flesh is grassflowers fade.

[Aside.

O'Con. Oh, the devil!-again! Rosy. Life's a shadow-the world a stage-we strut an hour.

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