You want one of your fine gentleman rakes, first insist that you never see young Darnley I suppose, that are snapping at every woman more; for, in one word, the good and pious they meet with. doctor Cantwell's the man I have decreed for

Char. Ho! ho! ho!

Char. No, no, sir: I am very well satis-your husband. fied.-I-I should not care for such a sort of a man, no more than I should for one that every woman was ready to snap at.

Sir J. No, you'll be secure from jealousy; he has experience, ripeness of years-he is almost forty-nine. Your sex's vanity will have no charms for him.

Char. But all this while, sir, I don't find that he has charms for our sex's vanity. How

Sir J. 'Tis very well; this laugh you think becomes you, but I shall spoil your mirthno more-give me a serious answer.

Char. I ask your pardon, sir; I should not have smiled indeed, could I suppose it possible that you were serious.

Sir J. You'll find me so.

Char. I'm sorry for it; but I have an obdoes he look? Is he tall, well made? Does jection to the doctor, sir, that most fathers he dress, sing, talk, laugh, and dance well? think a substantial one.

Has he good hair, good teeth, fine eyes?
Does he keep a chaise, coach, and vis-a-vis?

Sir J. Name it.

Char. Why, sir, we know nothing of his

Has he six prancing ponies? Does he wear the fortune; he's not worth a groat. prince's uniform, and subscribe to Brookes's? 1) Sir J. That's more than you know, maSir. J. Was there ever so profligate a crea-dam; I am able to give him a better estate ture? What will this age come to! than I am afraid you'll deserve.

Lady L. Nay, Charlotte, here I must be against you. Now you are blind indeed. A woman's happiness has little to do with the pleasure her husband takes in his own person. Sir J. Right.

Lady L. It is not how he looks, but how he loves, is the point.

Sir J. Good again.

Sey. Sir, if you are at leisure, the doctor desires to speak with you, upon business of importance.

Sir J. Where is he?

Sey. In his own chamber, sir.

Lady L. And a wife is much more secure that has charms for her husband, than when the husband has only charms for her. Sir J. I will come to him immediately.Sir J. Admirable! go on, my dear. [Exit Seyward.]-Daughter, I am called Lady L. Do you think a woman of five-away, and therefore have only time to tell and-twenty may not be much happier with you, as my last resolution, doctor Cantwell an honest man of fifty, than the finest woman is your husband, or I am no more your faof fifty with a young fellow of five-and-twenty? ther. [Exit. Sir J. Mark that! Char. O madam! I am at my wit's end; Char. Ay, but when two five-and-twenties not for the little fortune I may lose in disobeycome together-dear papa, you must allowing my father, but it startles me to find what they have a chance to be fifty times as plea- a dangerous influence this fellow has over all sant and frolicsome. his actions.

Lady L. Here's your brother.

Enter COLONEL LAMBERT.

Sir J. Frolicsome! Why, you sensual idiot, what have frolics to do with solid happiness? I am ashamed of you.-Go, you talk worse than a girl at a boarding-shool. -Frolicsome! Col. L. Madam, your most obedient-Well, as if marriage was only a license for two sister, is the secret out? Who is this pretty people to play the fool according to law. fellow Methinks, madam, you have a better example of happiness before your face. Here's one has ten times your understanding, and she, you find, has made a different choice.

don't

my father has picked up for you? Char. Even our agreeable doctor.

Col L. You are not serious?

Lady L. He's the very man, I can assure

you, sir.

Char. Lord, sir, how you talk! you Col. L. Confusion! what would the cormoconsider people's tempers. I don't say my la-rant devour the whole family? Your ladyship dy is not in the right; but then you know, knows he is secretly in love with you too. papa, she's a prude, and I am a coquette; Lady L. Fie, fie, calonel.

she becomes her character very well, I don't Col. L. I ask your pardon, madam, if I deny it; and I hope you see every thing I do, speak too freely; but I am sure, by what I is as consistent with mine. -Your wise people have seen, your ladyship must suspect somemay talk what they will, but 'tis constitution thing of it."

governs us all; and be assured, you will no Lady L. I am sorry any body else has more be able to bring me to endure a man seen it; but, I must own, his behaviour to of forty-nine, than you can persuade my lady me of late, both in private and before comto dance in church to the organ. pany has been something warmer than I

Sir J. O horrible! My poor sister has ruined thought became him.

her: leaving her fortune in her own hands, Col. L. How are these opposites to be rehas turned her brain. In short, Charlotte, your conciled? Can the rascal have the assurance sentiments of life are shameful, and I am re-to think both points are to be carried? solved upon your instant reformation: there- Char. Truly, one would not suspect the fore, as an earnest of your obedience, I shall gentleman to be so termagant.

1) One of the famous gambling called hells.

houses of that time,

Col. L. Especially while he pretends to be so shocked at all indecent amours. In the

country be used to make the maids lock up than any one in this house. But you may the turkey-cocks every Saturday night, for tell the doctor from me, madam, that he is fear they should gallant the hens on a Sunday. an impudent coxcomb1), a puppy, and deLady L. Oh! ridiculous! serves to have his bones broke.

Col. L. Upon my life, madam, my sister told me so.

Char. I tell you so, impudent

Lady L. Fie, Charlotte; he only jests with

you.

Old Lady L. Fie, Charlotte, fie! He speaks but for your good, and this is the grateful return you make.

Char. Grateful return, madam!-how can you be so partial to that hypocrite?— The Char. How can you be such a monster, to doctor is one of those who start at a feather. stay playing the fool here, when you have -Poor good man! yet he has his vices of more reason to be frightened out of your the graver sortwits? You don't know perhaps, that my father declares he'll settle a fortune upon this fellow too.

Col. L. What do you mean? Lady L. 'Tis too true; 'tis not three nutes since he said so.

Old Lady L. Come, come; I wish you would follow his precept, whose practice is conformable to what he teaches.- Virtuous man! -Above all sensual regards, he considers the mi- world merely as a collection of dirt and pebble-stones. How has he weaned me from eyes temporal connections! My heart is now set ma- upon nothing sublunary: and, I thank heaven, I am so insensible to every thing in this vain Lady L. What is't you propose? world, that I could see you, my son, my Col. L. Why, if this fellow, which I'm daughters, my brothers, my grandchildren, all sure of, is really in love with you, give him expire before me; and mind it no more than a fair opportunity to declare it, and leave me the going out of so many snuffs of candle. to make my advantage.

Col L. Nay then, 'tis time indeed his were opened; and give me leave to say, dam, 'tis only in your power.

Char. Upon my word, madam, it is a very

Lady L. I should be loth to do a wrong humane disposition you have been able to arthingrive at, and your family is much obliged to

Char. Dear madam, it is the only way in the doctor for his instructions. the world to expose him to my father. Lady L. I'll think of it.

Col. L. Pray do, madam; but in the mean time I must leave you poor Darnley stays for me at the Smyrna1) and will sit upon thorns till I bring him an account of his new rival.

Char. Well, well, get you gone then; here is my grandmother. [Exit Colonel Lambert.

Enter OLD LADY LAMBERT.

Lady L. This is kind, madam; I hope your ladyship's come to dine with us.

Old. Lady L. No; don't be afraid: only in my way from Tottenham-court, I just called to see whether any dreadful accident happened to the family since I was here last.

Old Lady L. Well, child, I have nothing more to say to you at present; heaven mend you, that's all.

Lady L. But pray, madam, stay and dine with us.

Old Lady L. No, daughter, I have said it, and you know I never tell a lie; but here's my son, if you'll give me leave, I'll stay and speak to him.

Lady L. Your ladyship's time is your own. Char. Ay, here's that abominable doctor. -This fellow puts me beyond my patience. [Exeunt Lady L. and Char. Enter SIR JOHN LAMBERT and DOCTOR CANTWELL.

Sir J. Oh, madam, madam! I'm glad you're here to join me in solicitations to the doctor. Lady L. Accident! did your ladyship say? Here is my mother, friend, my mother; a Old Lady L. I shall be sorry, daughter, pious woman; you will hear her, more worthy but not surprised, when I hear it; for there to advise you than I am. are goings on under this roof, that will bring Dr. C. Alas! the dear good lady, I will temporal punishments along with them. kiss her hand!-but what advice can she give

it for.

in me,

hea

Lady L. Indeed, madam, you astonish me! me? The riches of this world, sir, have no Old Lady L. We'll drop the subject; and charms for me; I am not dazzled with their I beg leave to address myself to you. Miss false glare; and was I, I repeat it, to accept Charlotte; I see you have a bit of lace upon of the trust you want to repose your neck; I desire to know what you wear ven knows, it would only be lest the means should fall into wicked hands, who would Char. Wear it for, madam! it's the fashion. not lay it out as I would do, for the glory Old Lady L. In short, I have been at my of heaven, and the good of my neighbour. linen draper's to-day, and have bought you Old Lady L. What's the matter, son? some thick muslin, which I desire you will Dr. C. Nothing, madam; nothing.—But you make handkerchiefs of-for I must tell you were witness how the worthy colonel treated that slight covering is indecent, and gives me this morning-Not that I speak it on my much offence. own account-for to be reviled is my portion. Sir J. O the villain! the villain!

Lady L. Indecent, did your ladyship say? Old Lady L. Yes, daughter-in-law, doctor Cantwell complains to me that he can't sit at table, the sight of her bare neck disturbs him so; and he's a good man, and knows what indecency is.

Char. Yes, indeed, I believe he does, better 1) Smyrna coffee house.

Dr. C. Indeed, I did not think he had so would be glad to be permitted to speak with hard a nature.

you.

Old Lady L. Ah! your charitable heart Old Lady L. Oh pray, doctor, admit him; knows not the rancour that is in his.- His I have not seen Mr. Mawworm this great wicked sister too, has been here this moment, while; he's a pious man, though in an humble . abusing this good man. estate; desire the worthy creature to walk in.

Dr. C. O sir, 'tis plain; 'tis plain; your whole family are in a combination against me

-your son and daughter hate me; they think -How do you do, M. Mawworm? I stand between them and your favour: and Maw. Thank your ladyship's axing 1)—I'm indeed it is not fit I should do so; for, fallen but deadly poorish indeed; the world and I as they are, they are still your children, and can't agree I got the books, doctor-and Mrs. I an alien, an intruder, who ought in con-Grunt bid me give her service to you, and science to retire and heal those unhappy thanks you for the eigtheen-pence.

breaches.

Old Lady L. See; if the good man does not wipe his eyes!

Dr. C. Oh heavens! the thought of their ingratitude wounds me to the quick-but I'll remove this eyesore-here, Charles!

Enter SEYWARD.

Sir J. For goodness sake

Dr C. Bring me that writing, I gave you to lay up this morning.

Dr. C. Hush, friend Mawworm! not a word more; you know I hate to have my little charities blazed about: a poor widow, madam, to whom I sent my mite.

Old Lady L. Give her this. [offers a purse to Mawworm. Dr. C. I'll take care it shall be given to her. takes it. matter with

Old Lady L. But what is the you, Mr. Mawworm?

Maw. I don't know what's the matter with me-I'm a breaking my heart-I think it's a [Exit Seyward. sin to keep a shop.

Sir J. Make haste, good Charles; it shall be signed this moment.

Dr. C. Not for the world, sir John-every minute tends to corroborate my last intentions -I must not, will not take it, with the curses of your children.

Sir J. But consider, doctor-shall my wicked son then be heir to my lands, before repentance has entitled him to favour- No, let him depend upon you, whom he has wronged: perhaps, in time he may reflect on his father's justice, and be reconciled to your rewarded virtues. If heaven should at last reclaim him, in you I know he still would find a fond forgiving father.

Old Lady L. Why if you think it a sin, indeed-pray what's your business?

Maw. Ve deals in grocery, tea, small-beer, charcoal, butter, brickdust, and the like.

Old Lady L. Well, you must consult with your friendly director here.

I

Maw. I wants to go a preaching.
Old Lady L. Do you?

Maw. I'm almost sure I have had a call.
Old Lady L. Ay!

Maw. I have made several sermons already; does them extrumpery, 2) because I can't write; and now the devils in our alley says, as how my head's turned.

Old Lady L. Ay, devils indeed-but don't you mind them.

Dr. C. The imagination of so blest an hour, softens me to a tenderness I cannot support! Old Lady L. Oh! the dear good man. Sir J. With regard to my daughter, doc- Maw. No, I don't-I rebukes them, and tor, you know she is not wronged by it; be- preaches to them, whether they will or not. cause, if she proves not obstinate, she may still be happy.

Old Lady L. Yes, but the perverse wretch slights the blessing you propose for her.

We lets our house in lodgings to single men; and sometimes I gets them together, with one or two of the neighbours, and makes them all cry. Old Lady L. Did you ever preach in public? Dr. C. We must allow, madam, female Maw. I got upon Kennington-common, the modesty a time, which often takes the like- last review day; but the boys threw brickbats 3) ness of distress: the commands of your good at me, and pinned crackers to my tail; and son might too suddenly surprise her-Maids have been afraid to mount ever since. must be gently dealt with-and might I humbly advise

Dr. C. Then, with your permission, sir, 1 will take an opportunity of talking to my lady.

Old Lady L. Do you hear this, doctor? throw brickbats at him, and pin crackers to his tail! can these things be stood by?

Maw. I told them so-says I, I does nothing clandecently *); I stands here contagious 5) to his majesty's guards, and I charge you upon your apparels 6) not to mislist 7) me.

Old Lady L. And had it no effect?

Maw. No more than' if I spoke to so many postesses 8) : but if he advises me to go a preaching, and quit my shop, I'll make an excressance further into the country.

Sir J. She's now in her dressing-room; Old Lady L. An excursion, you would say. ru go and prepare her for it.

[Exit.

Dr. C. You are too good to me, sir-too

bountiful.

Enter SEYWARD.

Sey. Sir, Mr. Mawworm is without, and

Maw. I am but a sheep, but my bleatings shall be heard afar off; and that sheep shall

1) Asking. 2) Extempore. 5) Large stones.
4) Clandestinely. 5) Contiguous, 6) At, your peril.
7) Molest. 8) The plural of post, according to the
pronounciation of the common people of London.

become a shepherd: nay, if it be only as it were a shepherd's dog, to bark the stray lambs into the fold.

Old Lady L. He wants method, doctor. Dr. C. Yes, madam; but there is the matter, and I despise not the ignorant.

Dr. C. Madam, if you please, Iavill lead you into the parlour.

Old Lady L. No, doctor, my coach waits at the door.

Enter SEYWARD.

Maw. He's a saint-till I went after him, I Dr. C. Charles, you may lay those papers was little better than the devil; my conscience by again, but in some place where you'll easily was tanned with sin, like a piece of neat's find them; for I believe we shall have occaleather, and had no more feeling than the sole sion for them some time this afternoon. of my shoe; always a roving after fantastical Sey. I'll take care, sir. [Exit Dr. Cant. and delights: I used to go, every Sunday evening, old Lady Lambert-Occasion for them this to the Three Hats at Islington! it's a public- afternoon!-Then there's no time to be lost; house! may hap, your ladyship may know it: the coast is clear, and this is her chamber.I was a great lover of skittles too, but now What's the matter with me? the thought of I can't bear them. speaking to her throws me into a disorder. There's nobody within; I'll knock again.

Old Lady L. What a blessed reformation! Maw. I believe, doctor, you never know'd as how I was instigated 1) one of the stewards

Enter BETTY.

of the reforming society. I convicted a man Is your lady busy? of five oaths, as last Thursday was a se'nnight,

Bet. I believe she's only reading, sir. at the Pewter-platter, in the Borough; and Sey. Will you do me the favour to let her another of three, while he was playing trap-know, if she's at leisure? I beg to speak with ball in St. George's-fields: I bought this waist- her upon some earnest business.

coat out of my share of the money.
Old Lady L. But how do
business?
Maw. We have lost almost all our custo-
mers; because I keeps extorting 1) them when-
ever they come into the shop.

Enter CHARLlotte.
Char. Who's that?

Bet. She's here.-Mr. Seyward, madam, desires to speak with you.

Char. Oh, your servant, Mr. Seyward.Old Lady L. And how do you live? Here, take this odious Homer, and lay him up Maw. Better than ever we did: while we again; he tires me.— [Exit Betty]-How could tvere worldly-minded, my wife and I (for I the blind wretch make such a horrid fuss afom married to as likely a woman as you shall bout a fine woman, for so many volumes togethee in a thousand) could hardly make things ther, and give us no account of her amours? do at all; but since this good man has brought you have read him, I suppose, in the Greek, us into the road of the righteous, we have al- Mr. Seyward? ways plenty of every thing; and my wife goes as well dressed as a gentlewoman-we have had a child too.

Old Lady L. Merciful!

Maw. And between you and me, doctor, I believe Susy's breeding again.

Dr. C. Thus it is, madam; I am constantly told, though I can hardly believe it, a blessing follows wherever I come.

Sey. Not lately, madam.

Char. But do you so violently admire him now? Sey. The critics say he has his beauties, madam; but Ovid has been always my favourite. Char. Ovid-Oh, he is ravishing!

Sey. So art thou, to madness! [Aside. Char. Lord! how could one do, to learn Greek!-Were you a great while about it? Sey. It has been half the business of my life, madam.

Char. That's cruel, now; then you think one could not be mistress of it in a month or two? Sey. Not easily, madam.

Maw. And yet, if you would hear how the neighbours reviles my wife; saying as how she sets no store by me, because we have words now and then; but as I says, if such was the case, would ever she have cut me Char. They tell me, it has the softest tone down that there time as I was melancholy, for love of any language in the world—I fanand she found me hanging behind the door? cy I could soon learn it. I know two words I don't believe there's a wife in the parish of it already.

would have done so by her husband.

Dr. C. I believe 'tis near dinner-time; and

sir John will require my attendance.

Sey. Pray, madam, what are they? Char. Stay-let me see-Oh-ay-Zoe kai psuche.

Maw. Oh! I am troublesome-nay, I only Sey. I hope you know the English of them, come to you, doctor, with a message from madam. Mrs. Grunt. I wish your ladyship heartily and

Char. Oh lud! I hope there is no harm in heartily farewell; doctor, a good day to you. it-I'm sure I heard the doctor say it to my Old Lady L. Mr. Mawworm, call on me lady—pray, what is it?

some time this afternoon; I want to have a

Sey. You must first imagine, madam, a tender little private discourse with you; and, pray, lover gazing on his mistress; and then indeed my service to your spouse. they have a softness in them; as thus-Zoe Maw. I will, madam; you are a malefactor 3) kai psuche!-my life! my soul! to all goodness; I'll wait upon your ladyship; Char. Oh the impudent young rogue! how I will indeed: [going, returns] Oh, doctor, his eyes spoke too! what the deuce can he that's true; Susy desired me to give her kind want with me! love and respects to you.

1) Instituted. 2) Exhorting. 3) Benefactor.

[Aside.

[Exit. Sey. I have startled her!-she muses! Aside. Char. It always run in my head that this fellow had something in him above his con

dition; I'll know immediately. [Aside] Well, but your business with me, Mr. Seyward? you have something of love in your head, I'll lay my life on't.

Sey. I never durst own it, madam. Char. Why; what's the matter? Sey. My story is too melancholy to entertain a mind so much at ease as yours. Char. Oh, I love melancholy stories of all things:-pray how long have you lived with your uncle, Mr. Seyward?

Char. Indeed, you can't tell how I pity you; and depend upon it, if it be possible to serve you, by getting you out of the hands of this monster, I will.

Sey. Once more, madam, let me assure you, that your generous inclination would be a consolation to me in the worst misfortunes; and, even in the last moment of painful death, would give my heart a joy.

Char. Lord! the poor unfortunate boy loves me too-what shall I do with him? [Aside]

Sey. With doctor Cantwell, I suppose you-Pray, Mr. Seyward, what paper's that you mean, madam?

Char, Ay.

Sey. He's no uncle of mine, madam.

Char. You surprise me! not your uncle? Sey. No, madam; but that's not the only character the doctor assumes, to which he has no right.

Char. Lord! I am concerned for you. Sey. So you would, madam, if you knew all. Char. I am already; but if there are any further particulars of your story, pray let me hear them; and should any services be in my power, I am sure you may command them.

have in your hand?-Is it relative to

Sey. Another instance of the conscience and gratitude which animate our worthy doctor. Char. You frighten me! pray, what is the purport of it? Is it neither signed nor sealed—

Sey. No, madam; therefore to prevent it, by this timely notice, was my business here with you; your father gave it to the doctor first, to show his counsel); who having approved it, I understand this evening it will be executed.

Char. But what is it?

Sey. It grants to doctor Cantwell, in preSey. You treat me with so kind, so gentle sent, four hundred pounds per annum, of a hand, that I will unbosom myself to you.- which this very house is part; and, at your My father, madam, was the younger branch father's death, invests him in the whole reof a genteel family in the north; his name mainder of his freehold estate. For you, inTrueman-but dying while I was yet in my deed, there is a charge of four thousand pounds infancy, I was left wholly dependant on my upon it, provided you marry with the doctor's mother; a woman really pious and well-mean- consent; if not, 'tis added to my lady's joining, but-In short, madam, doctor Cantwell ture-But your brother, madam, is, without fatally got acquainted with her, and as he is conditions, utterly disinherited. now your father's bosom counsellor, soon became her's. She died, madam, when I was but eight years old; and then I was, indeed, left an orphan.

Char. Melancholy!

Char. I am confounded!-What will become of us! my father now I find was serious

Oh, this insinuating hypocrite!-Let me see -ay-I will go this minute. Sir, dare you trust this in my hands for an hour only?

Sey. She left doctor Cantwell her sole heir Sey. Any thing to serve you- [Bellrings. and executor; but I must do her the justice to Char. Hark! they ring to dinner: pray, sir, say, I believe it was in the confirmation that step in: say I am obliged to dine abroad; and he would take care of, and do justice to me: whisper one of the footmen to get a chair and, indeed, he has so far taken care of me, immediately; then do you take a proper octhat he sent me to a seminary abroad; and for casion to slip out after me to Mr. Double's these three years last past has kept me with him. chambers in the Temple 2); there I shall have Char. A seminary! Oh, heavens! but why time to talk further with you. you not strove to do yourself justice? Sey. Thrown so young into his power, as

have

I

ACT III.

[Exeunt.

was-unknown ond friendless, but through SCENE 1.—A Dressing-Room, with Table and

his means, to whom could I apply for succour? nay, madam, I will confess, that on my

Chairs.

return to England, I was first tainted with his Enter CHARLOTTE, with BETTY, taking off

her cloak, etc.

Char. Has any one been to speak with me,

enthusiastic notions myself; and, for some time, as much imposed upon by him, as others; till, by degrees, as he found it necessary to Betty? make use of, or totally discard me (which last Bet. Only Mr. Darnley, madam; he said he he did not think prudent to do), he was o-would call again, and bid his servant stay below bliged to unveil himself to me in his proper to give him notice when you came home. colours-And I believe I can inform you of Char. You don't know what he wanted? some parts of his private character, that may Bet. No, madam; he seemed very uneasy be the means of detecting one of the wickedest at your being abroad. impostors that ever practised upon credulity. Char. But how has the wretch dared to treat you?

Sey. In his ill and insolent humours, madam, he has sometimes the presumption to tell me, that I am the object of his charity; and I own, madam, that I am humbled in my opinion, by his having drawn me into a connivance at some actions, which I can't look back on without horror.

Char. Well, go and lay up those thingsExit Betty] Ten to one but his wise head has found out something to be jealous of; 1) Lawyer.

The

2) The Temple takes its name from having been founded by the knight Templars. In the 15th century, here were frequently entertained the king, the pope's nuncio, foreign ambassadors, and other great personages. professors of the common law purchased the building at the suppression of the knight Templars, and they were then first converted into inns, where the students keep their terms.