SCENE I.-A Hall in Sir JOHN LAMBERT'S House. Sir JOHN LAMBERT enters, followed by Colonel LAMBERT. Col. Lamb. PRAY consider, sir. Sir J. Lamb. So I do, sir, that I am her father, and will dispose of her as I please. Col. Lamb. I do not dispute your authority, sir; but as I am your son too, I think it my duty to be concerned for your honour. Have not you countenanced his addresses to my sister? Has not she received them?-Mr Darnley's birth and fortune are well known to you; and, I dare swear, he may defy the world to lay a blemish on his character, VOL. IV. catechised, I must tell you, I do not like his chaSir J. Lamb. Why then, sir, since I am to be racter; he is a world-server, a libertine, and has no more religion than you have. Col. Lamb. Sir, we neither of us think it proper to make a boast of our religion; but, if you will please to enquire, you will find that we go to church as orderly as the rest of our neighbours. Sir J. Lamb. Oh! you go to church! you go to church!-Wonderful! wonderful! to bow, and grin, and cough, and sleep: a fine act of devo tion indeed. Col. Lamb. Well, but, dear sir- A Col. Lamb. Pardon me, sir, I am none: it is a character I abhor; and, next to that, I abhor the character of an enthusiast. Sir J. Lamb. Oh, you do so; an enthusiast! ---this is the fashionable phrase, the bye-word, the nick-name, that our pleasure-loving generation give to those few who have a sense of true sanctity. Col. Lamb. Say canting, sir. Sir J. Lamb. I tell you what, son, as I have told you more than once, you will draw some heavy judgment on your head one day or other. Col. Lamb. So says the charitable Dr Cantwell: you have taken him into your house, and, in return, he gives over half your family to the devil. Sir J. Lamb. Do not abuse the doctor, colonel; it is not the way to my favour. I know you cannot bear him, because he is not one of your mincing preachers.--He holds up the glass to your enormities, shows you to yourselves in your genuine colours. Col. Lamb. I always respect piety and virtue, sir; but there are pretenders to religion, as well as to courage; and as we never find the truly brave to be such as make much noise about their valour, so, I apprehend, the truly good seldom or never deal much in grimace.-To be candid, sir, I make a distinction between hypocrisy and devotion, and can never pay the same regard to the mask, that I would to the face. Sir J. Lamb. Very well, sir; this is very well. Col. Lamb. Besides, sir, I would be glad to know by what authority the doctor pretends to exercise the clerical function. It does not appear clearly to me that he ever was in orders. Sir J. Lamb. That is no business of yours, sir ---But I am better informed.—However, he has the call of zeal. Col. Lamb. Zeal! Sir J. Lamb. Why, colonel, you are in a passion. Col. Lamb. I own I cannot see with temper, sir, so many religious mountebanks impose upon the unwary multitude; wretches, who make a trade of religion, and shew an uncommon concern for the next world, only to raise their fortunes with greater security in this. Sir J. Lamb. Colonel, let me hear no more: I see you are too hardened to be converted now; but since you think it your duty as a son to be concerned for my errors, I think it as much mine, as a father, to be concerned for yours. If you think fit to amend them, so; if not, take the consequence. Col. Lamb. Well, sir, may I ask you without offence, if the reasons you have given me are your only reasons for discountenancing Mr Darnley's addresses to my sister? Sir J. Lamb. Are they not flagrant? Would you have me marry my daughter to a pagan? Col. Lamb. He intends this morning paying his respects to you, in hopes to obtain your final consent; and desired me to be present as a mediator of articles between you. Sister, good morrow; I want to speak with you. Char. Pr'ythee then, dear brother, don't put on that wise politic face, as if your regiment was going to be disbanded, or sent to the West-Indies, and you obliged to follow it. Col. Lamb. Come, come, a truce with your raillery; what I have to ask of you is serious, and I beg you would be so in your answer. Charl. Well then, provided it is not upon the subject of love, I will be so-but make haste too -for I have not had my tea yet. Col. Lamb. Why, it is, and it is not, upon that subject. Charl. Oh, I love a riddle dearly-Comelet's hear it. Col. Lamb. Nay, psha! if you will be serious, say so. Charl. O lard, sir; I beg your pardon-there -there's my whole form and features totally disengaged, and lifeless, at your service; now, put them in what posture of attention you think fit. [Leaning against him awkwardly. Col. Lamb. Was there ever such a giddy devil! -Pr'ythee stand up. I have been talking with my father, and he declares positively you shall not receive any further addresses from Mr Darnley. Charl. Are you serious? Col. Lamb. He said so this minute, and with some warmth. Charl. I am glad on't with all my heart. Charl. To a degree. Do you think a man has any more charms for me for my father's liking him? No, sir; if Mr Darnley can make his way to me now, he is obliged to me, and to me only. Besides, now it may have the face of an amour indeed, now one has something to struggle for; there's difficulty, there's danger, there's the dear spirit of contradiction in it too-Oh! I like it mightily. Col. Lamb. I am glad this does not make you think the worse of Darnley-but a father's consent might have clapt a pair of horses more to your coach perhaps, and the want of it may pinch your fortune. Charl. Burn fortune! am not I a fine woman? and have not I twenty thousand pounds in my own hands? Col. Lamb. Yes, sister, but with all your charms, you have had them in your hands almost these four years. Charl. Psha! and have not I had the full swing of my own airs and humours these four years? but if I humour my father, I warrant he'll make it three or four thousand more, with some unlick'd lout-A comfortable equivalent, truly!— No, no; let him light his pipe with his consent, if he please. Wilful against wise for a wager. Col. Lamb. Well said; nothing goes to your heart, I find. Charl. No, no; if I must have an ill match, I'll have the pleasure of playing my own game at least. Col. Lamb. But pray, sister, has my father ever proposed any other man to you? Charl. Another man! let me know why you ask, and I'll tell you. Col. Lamb. Why, the last words he said to me were, that he had another man in his head for Col. Lamb. Why, how now, sister? Charl. Why, sure, brother, you know very little of female happiness, if you suppose the surprise of a new lover ought to shock a woman of my temper-don't you know that I am a coquette? Col. Lamb. If you are, you are the first that ever was sincere enough to own her being so. Charl. To a lover, I grant you: but not to you; I make no more of you than a sister: I can say any thing to you. Col. Lamb. I should have been better pleased if you had not owned it to me-it's a hateful character. Charl. Ay, it's no matter for that; it's violently pleasant, and there's no law against it that I know of. Col. Lamb. Darnley's like to have a hopeful time with you. Charl, Well; but don't you really know who it is my father intends me?" Col. Lamb. Not I, really; but I imagined you might, and therefore thought to advise with you about it. Charl. Nay, he has not opened his lips to me yet are you sure he's gone out? Col. Lamb. You are very impatient to know, methinks; what have you to do to concern yourself about any man but Darnley? Charl. O lud! O lud! Pr'ythee, brother, don't be so wise; if you had an empty house to let, would you be displeased to hear there were two people about it? Besides, to be a little serious, Darnley has a tincture of jealousy in his temper, which nothing but a substantial rival can cure. Col. Lamb. Oh, your servant, madam! now you talk reason. I am glad you are concerned enough for Darnley's faults, to think them worth your mending-ha, ha! Chart. Concern'd! why, did I say that?-look you, I'll deny it all to him-well, if ever I am serious with him again Col. Lamb. Here he comes; be as merry with him as you please. Charl. Psha! Enter DARNLEY.-CHARLOTTE takes a Book, and reads. Darn. My dear colonel, your servant. Col. Lamb. I am glad you did not come sooner; for in the humour my father left me, 'twould not have been a proper time for you to have pressed your affairÎ touch'd upon't-but-Î'll tell you more presently; in the mean time, lose no ground with my sister. Darn. I shall always think myself obliged to your friendship, let my success be what it willMadam, your most obedient-what have you got there, pray? Charl. Reading.] Her lively looks a sprightly mind disclose; Quick as her eyes, and as unfix'd as thoseDurn. Pray, madam, what is it? Charl. Favours to none, to all she smiles extends Darn. Nay, I will see, Charl. Oft she rejects, but never once offends. Col. Lamb. Have a care: she has dipt into her own character, and she'll never forgive you if you don't let her go through with it. Darn. I beg your pardon, madam. Charl. Bright as the sun her eyes the gazer strike, And like the sun they shine on all alike— um-um Darn. That is something like, indeed. Col. Lamb. You would say so, if you knew all. Darn. All what! pray what do you mean? Col. Lamb. Have a little patience: I'll tell you immediately. Charl. If to her share some female errors fall, Look on her face and you'll forget them all. Is not that natural, Mr Darnley?" Darn. For a woman to expect, it is indeed. Charl. And can you blame her, when 'tis at the same time a proof of the poor man's passion, and her power? Darn. So that you think the greatest compli ment a lover can make his mistress, is to give up h reason to her. Charl. Certainly; for what have your lordly sex to boast of but your understanding, and till that's entirely surrendered to her discretion, whilst the least sentiment holds out against her, a woman must be downright vain to think her conquest completed. Darn. There we differ, madam; for in my opinion, nothing but the most excessive vanity could value or desire such a conquest. Chari. Oh, d'ye hear hiin, brother! the creature reasons with me; nay, has the effrontery to think me in the wrong too! O lud! he'd make an horrid tyrant-positively I won't have him. Darn. Well; my comfort is, no other man will easily know whether you'll have him or not. Charl. Am I not an horrid vain, silly creature, Mr Darnley? Darn. A little bordering upon the baby, I Darn. I would indeed.-Nay, were it but possible to make you serious only when you should be so, I should think you the most amiableCharl. O lud! he's civil Darn. Come, come, you have good sense; use me but with that, and make me what you please. Charl. Laud! I don't desire to make any thing of you, not I. Darn. Don't look so cold upon me; by Heaven, I can't bear it. Charl. Well, now you are tolerable. Darn. Come then, be generous, and swear at least you'll never marry another. Charl. Ah, laud! now you have spoiled all again:-besides, how can I be sure of that, before I have seen this other man my brother spoke to me of? Darn. What riddle's this! Col. Lamb. I told you, you did not know all. To be serious, my father went out but now on purpose to avoid you.-In short, he absolutely retracts his promises; says, he would not have you fool away your time after my sister; and, in plain terms told me, he had another man in his head for her. Darn. Another man! who? what is he? did not he name him? Col. Lamb. No; nor has he yet spoke of him to my sister. Darn. This is unaccountable !-what can have given him this sudden turn? Col. Lumb. Some whim our conscientious doctor has put in his head, I'll lay my life. Darn. He! he can't be such a villain; he professes a friendship for me. Col. Lamb. So much the worse. Darn. But on what pretence, what grounds, what reason? what interest can he have to oppose me? Col. Lamb. Are you really now as unconcerned as you seem to be? Charl. You are a strange dunce, brother you know no more of love than I do of a regiment-You shall see now how I'll comfort himPoor Darnley, ha, ha, ha! Darn. I don't wonder at your good humour, madam, when you have so substantial an opportunity to make me uneasy for life. Charl. O lud! how sententious he is! well, his reproaches have that greatness of soul-the confusion they give is insupportable.-Betty!—is the tea ready? Enter BETTY. Betty. Yes, madam. Charl. Mr Darnley, your servant. [Exit. [BETTY follows. Col. Lamb. So, you have made a fine piece of work on't indeed! Darn. Dear Tom, pardon me if I speak a little freely; I own the levity of her behaviour, at this time, gives me harder thoughts than I once believed it possible to have of her. Col. Lamb. Indeed, my friend, you mistake her. Darn. Nay, nay; had she any real concern for me, the apprehensions of a man's addresses, whom yet she never saw, must have alarmed her to some degree of seriousness. Col. Lamb. Not at all; for let this man be whom he will, I take her levity as a proof of her resolution to have nothing to say to him. Darn. And pray, sir, may I not as well suspect, that this artful delay of her good nature to me now, is meant as a provisional defence against my reproaches, in case, when she has seen this man, she should think it convenient to prefer him? Col. Lamb. No, no; she's giddy, but not capable of so studied a falsehood. Darn. But still, what could she mean by going away so abruptly? Col. Lamb. You grew too grave for her. Col. Lamb. No-if you could, the uneasiness would lie on her side. Darn. Do you then really think she has any thing in her heart for me? Col. Lamb. Ay, marry, sir-Ah! if you could but get her to own that seriously now—Lord, how you could love her! Darn. And so I could, by heaven. Col. Lamb. Well, well; I'll undertake for her; if my father don't stand in the way, we are well enough. Darn. What says my lady? you don't think she's against us? Col. Lamb. I dare say she is not. She's of so soft, so sweet a disposition— Darn. Pr'ythee, how came so fine a woman to marry your father, with such a vast inequality of years? Col. Lamb. Want of fortune, Frank: She was poor and beautiful-he rich and amorous-she made him happy, and he herDarn. A lady our family; what will become of us !-for friend-for charity Dr Cant. Enough; say no more, madam, I submit: while I can do good, it is my duty. Col. Lamb. And a jointure-now she's the only one in the family, that has power with our pre-shipcise doctor; and, I dare engage, she'll use it with him to persuade my father from any thing that is against your interest. By the way, you must know I have some shrewd suspicion, that this sanctified rogue is in love with her. Darn. In love! Col. Lamb. You shall judge by the symptomsbut hush!—here he comes with my grandmother-step this way, and I'll tell you. [Exeunt Enter Doctor CANTWELL and old Lady LAMBERT, followed by SEYWARD. Dr Gant. Charles, step up into my study; bring down a dozen more of those manuals of devotion, with the last hymns I composed; and, when he calls, give them to Mr Maw-worm; and, do you hear, if any one enquires for me, say I am gone to Newgate, and the Marshalsea, to distribute alms. [Exit SEYWARD. Old Lady Lamb. Well; but, worthy doctor, why will you go to the prisons yourself? cannot you send the money?-Ugly distempers are often catched there have a care of your health-let us keep one good man, at least, amongst us. Dr Cant. Alas, madam, I am not a good man: I am a guilty, wicked sinner, full of iniquity; the greatest villain that ever breathed; every instant of my life is clouded with stains; it is one continued series of crimes and defilements; you do not know what I am capable of; you indeed take me for a good man; but the truth is, I am a worthless creature. Old Lady Lamb. Have you then stumbled? Alas, if it be so, who shall walk upright? What horrid crime have you been hurried into, that calls for this severe self-recrimination? Dr Cant. None, madam, that perhaps humȧnity may call very enormous; yet am I sure, that my thoughts never stray a moment from celestial contemplations? do they not sometimes, before I am aware, turn to things of this earth? am I not often hasty, and surprised into wrath? nay, the instance is recent; for, last night, being snarled at, and bit by Minxy, your daughter-inlaw's lap-dog, I am conscious I struck the little beast with a degree of passion, for which I have never been able to forgive myself since. Old Lady Lamb. Oh, worthy, humble soul! this is a slight offence, which your suffering and mortifications may well atone for. Dr Cant. No, madam, no; I want to suffer; I ought to be mortified; and I am obliged now to tell you, that, for my soul's sake, I must quit your good son's family; I am pamper'd too much here, live too much at my ease. Old Lady Lamb. Good doctor! Dr Cant. Alas, madam! It is not you that should shed tears; it is I ought to weep; you are a pure woman. Old Lady Lamb. I pure? who, I?-no, no; sinful, sinful!. -But do not talk of quitting Enter Colonel LAMBERT and DARNLEY. Col. Lamb. Your ladyship's most humble ser vant. Old Lady Lamb. Grandson, how do you? Dr Cant. Mr Darnley, 1 am your most humble stay, and join in the private duties of the family." servant: I hope you and the good colonel will Old Lady Lamb. No, doctor, no; it is too early; the sun has not risen upon them, but I doubt not, the day will come. Dr Cant. I warrant they would go to a play now. Old Lady Lamb. Would they?they would. -I am afraid Darn. Why, I hope it is no sin, madam; if I am not mistaken, I have seen your ladyship at a play. Old Lady Lamb. Me, sir!-see me at a play! You may have seen the prince of darkness, or some of his imps, in my likeness, perhaps Darn. Well, but madam Old Lady Lamb. Mr Darnley, do you think I would commit a murder! Dr Cant. No, sir, no; these are not the plants usually to be met with in that rank soil; the seeds of wickedness indeed sprout up every where too fast; but a playhouse is the devil's hot-bed. Col. Lamb. And, yet, doctor, I have known some of the leaders of your tribe, as scrupulous as they are, who have been willing to gather fruit there for the use of the brethren- -as in case of a benefit Dr Cant. The charity covereth the sin; and it may be lawful to turn the wages of abomination to the comfort of the righteous. Col. Lamb. Ha, ha, ha! Dr Cant. Reprobate, reprobate! Co!. Lamb. What is that you mutter, sirrah? Old Lady Lamb. Oh, Heavens! Durn. Let him go, colonel. Col. Lamb. A canting hypocrite! Dr Cant. Very well, sir: your father shall know my treatment. [Erit. Old Lady Lamb. Let me run out of the house; I shall have it fall upon my head, if I stay among such wicked wretches. Oh, grandson, grandson! [Exit. Darn. Was there ever so insolent a rascal?" Col. Lamb. The dog will one day provoke me to beat his brains out. Darn. But what the devil is he?-whence comes he?-what is his original?-how has he so ingratiated himself with your father, as to get footing in the house? Col. Lamb. Oh, sir, he is here in quality of chaplain; he was first introduced by the good old lady that's just gone out. You know she has |