flections is, a resolution to sacrifice every inclination of my own to your satisfaction. Sir Anth. Why, now you talk sense, absolute Lucy. O lud, now, Mr. Fag, you flurry one so! Fag. Come, come, Lucy, here's no one by, so a Ittle simplicity, with a grain or two more sincerity, if you please. You play false with us, madam: Icense; I never heard any thing more sensible in saw you give the baronet a letter. My master my life. Confound you! you shall be Jack again. shall know this; and if he don't call him out, I Capt. A. I am happy in the appellation. will. Sir A. Why thou, Jack, my dear Jack, I will now inform you who the lady really is. Nothing but your passion and violence, you silly fellow, prevented me telling you at first. Prepare, Jack, for wonder and rapture-prepare. What think you of Miss Lydia Languish? Lucy. Ha, ha, ha! you gentlemen's gentlemen are so hasty. That letter was from Mrs. Malaprop, simpleton. She is taken with Sir Lucius's address. Fag. How! what taste some people have. Why, I suppose I have walked by her window an hundred times. But what says our young lady? any message to my master? Lucy. Sad news, Mr. Fag-a worse rival than Acres? Sir Anthony Absolute has proposed his son. Fag. What, Captain Absolute? Lucy. Even so. I overheard it all. Fag. Ha, ha, ha! very good, 'faith! Good b'ye, Lucy; I must away with this news. Lucy. Well, you may laugh, but it is true, I assure you. (Going.) But, Mr. Fag, tell your master not to be cast down by this. Fag. Oh, he'll be so disconsolate. Lucy. And charge him not to think of quarrelling with young Absolute. Fag. Never fear, never fear. Lucy. Be sure, bid him keep up his spirits. ACT III. SCENE I.-The North Parade. [Exeunt. Capt A '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. Sir Anth. No-I'll sooner die 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've done with him; he's anybody's son for me; I never will see him more, never, never; never, never. Capt. A. Now for a penitential face! (Advances.) Sir Anth. Fellow, get out of the way! Capt. A. Sir, you see a penitent before you. Sir Anth. I see an impudent scoundrel before me. Capt. A. A sincere penitent. I am come, sir, to acknowledge my error, and to submit entirely to Sir Anth. What's that? [your will. Capt. A. I have been revolving, and reflecting, and considering on your past goodness, and kindness, and condescension to me. Sir Anth. Well, sir? Capt. A. I have been likewise weighing, and balancing, what you were pleased to mention concerning duty, and obedience, and authority. Sir Anth. Well, puppy? Ca, t. 4. Why, then, sir, the result of my re Capt. A. 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? Capt. A. Malaprop! Languish! I don't remember ever to have heard the names before. Yet stay, I think I do recollect samething-Languish-Languish-She squints, don't she? A little red-hair'd girl! [no! Sir Anth. Squints! A red-hair'd girl! Zounds! Capt. A. Then I must have forgot; it can't be the same person. Sir Anth. Jack! Jack! what think you of blooming love-breathing seventeen? Capt. A. 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! tale eyes! Then, Jack, her lips! O, Jack, lips, so deeply blushing at the insinuations of her tellsmiling at their own discretion! and, if not smiling, Then, Jack, her neck! O, Jack! Jack! more sweetly pouting-more lovely in sullenness! Capt. A. And which is to be mine, sir, the niece or her aunt? I despise you. When I was of your age, such a Sir Anth. Why, you unfeeling, insensible puppy, description would have made me fly like a rocket! The aunt, indeed! Ods life! when I ran away with your mother, I would not have touched any thing old or ugly to gain an empire. Capt. A. Not to please your father, sir? Sir Anth. To please my father-Zounds! not to please-O, my father-Odso!- yes, yes; if my father, indeed, had desired-that's quite another matter. Though he wasn't the indulgent father that I am, Jack. Capt. A. I dare say not, sir. Sir Anth. But, Jack, you are not sorry to find your mistress is so beautiful? Capt. A. 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 should not wish to affect a singularity in that article. 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. should think of addressing Miss Languish yourself, I 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 art either a very great hypocrite, or-but, come, I know your indifference on such a subject must be all a lie-I'm sure it must-come now, d-n your demure face; come, confess, Jack, you have been lying-ha'n't you? You have been playing the hypocrite, eh? I'll never forgive you, if you ha'n't been lying and playing the hypocrite. Capt. A. 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 youcome 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. Enter FAULKLAND. 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! 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 happy, though 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 he 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. Oh, Faulkland! when your kindness can make me thus happy, let me not think that I discovered something of coolness 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 treasen to constancy. The mutual tear that steals down the check 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 shew that my mind holds no doubt of my Faulkiand's truth. 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 obligations there for any part of your affection. Jul. Where nature has bestowed a shew 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; 1 despise person in a man; yet, if you love 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. How shall I be sure, had you remained unbound in thought or 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 loose your hold, even though I wished it! [bear it! Jul. Oh you torture me to the heart! I cannot Falk. I do not mean to distress you: if I loved you less, I should never give you an uneasy moment. I would not boast, yet let me say, that I have neither age, person, or 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 suspicious of its birth. Jul. I know not whither your insinuations would tend; but as they seem pressing to insult me, I 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 mo. ment; 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. 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. [Exit. SCENE III.-Mrs. Malaprop's Lodgings. Enter MRS. MALAPROP, with a letter in her hand, CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE, following. Mrs. M. Your being Sir Anthony's son, Captain, would itself be a sufficient accommodation; but from the ingenuity of your appearance, I am convinced you des rve the character here given of you. Capt. A. 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. Maloprop, of whose intellectual accomplishments, elegant manners, and unaffected learning, no tongue can be silent. Mrs. M. 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. Capt. A. 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 shew fruit, till time has robbed them of the more specious blossoms: few, like Mrs. Malaprop, and the orange-tree, are rich in both at once. Mrs. M. Sir, you overpower me with good breeding. He is the very pine-apple of politeness! (Aside.) You are not ignorant, Captain, that this giddy girl has, somehow, contrived to fix her affection on a beggarly, strolling, eves-dropping ensign, whom none of us have seen and nobody knows anything of. Capt. A. Oh! I have heard the silly affair before; I'm not at all prejudiced against her on that account. But it must be very distressing, indeed, to you, ma'am. Mrs. M. 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 intercepted another letter from the fellow; I believe I have it in my pocket. Capt. A. O, the devil! my last note! (Aside.) Capt. A. Ay, my note, indeed! O, the little traitress, Lucy. (Aside.) Mrs. M. There, perhaps you may know the writing. (Gives him the letter.) Capt. A. I think I have seen the hand before; yes, I certainly must have seen this hand before. Mrs. M. Nay, but read it Captain. Capt. A. (Read:.) My soul's idol, my adored Lydia! -Very tender, indeed! [science! Mrs. M. Tender! ay, and profane too, o' my conCapt. A. I am excessively alarmed at the intelligence you send me; the more so, as my new rival Mrs. M. That's you, sir. Capt. A. Has universally the character of being an accomplished gentleman, and a man of honour.-Well, that's handsome enough. [writing so. Mrs. M. Oh! the fellow has some design in Copt. A. That he had, I'll answer for him, ma'am. Mrs.M. But go on, sir; you'll see presently. Capi. A. As for the old weather-beaten she-dragon, who guards you-Who can he mean by that? Mrs. M. Me, sir-me-he means me there-what do you think now? but go on a little further. Capt. A. Impudent scoundrel!-It shall go hard but I will elude her vigilance; as I 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. M. There, sir, an attack upon my langusso what do you think of that? an aspersion urn my parts of speech! was ever such a brut Sure, if I reprehend anything in this world is the use of my oracular tongue, and a ne derangement of epitaphs. apt. A. He deserves to be hanged and quartered! let me see-same ridiculous vanity Capt. 4. beg pardon, ma'am-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 interviews. Was ever such assurance! Mrs. M. Did you ever hear anything like it? (They rise.) 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! Capt. A. So we will, madam; 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. M. I am delighted with the scheme; never was anything better perpetrated. Cap. A. But, pray, could I not see the lady for a few minutes now? I should like to try he temper a little. Capt. A. O Lord, she won't mind me! only tell Mrs. M. Sir! Cap'. A. Gently, good tongue! (Aside.) Mrs. M. What did you say of Beverley? Capt. A. 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 then; ha! ha! ha! Mrs. M. "Twould be a trick she well deserves; besides, you know the fellow tells her he'll get iny consent to see her: ha! 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. Capt. A. Tis very ridiculous, upon my soul, ma'am!-ha! ha! ha! Mrs. M. The little hussey 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 woCapt. A. As you please, ma'am. [man. Mrs. M. For the present, Captain, your servant. Ah, you've not done laughing yet, I see-elude my vigilance! yes, yes-Ha! ha! ha! [Exit. apt. A. 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 persecuted, as I am, who have appealed, in behalf of their favoured lover, to the generosity of his Mrs. M. 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 Lyd. No, madam, I did not. [his? rival: surnose I were to try it: there stands the hated rival officer too! But, oh! how unlike my Beverley! onder he don't begin-truly he seems a very negligen wooer!-quite at his ease, upon my word! I'll speak seat. Mr. Absolute ! Capt. A. Ma'am. (Turns rouna.) Lyd. O heavens! Beverley! furprised! Capt. A. Hush! hush, my life!-Softly! Do not Lyd. I am so astonished! and so terrified! and so overjoyed! For heaven's sake! how came you here? Capt. A. 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. [young Absolute? Lyd. Oh, charming! and she really takes you for Capt. A. Oh! she's convinced of it. Lyd. Ha, ha, ha! I can't forbear laughing, to think how her sagacity is over-reached. Capt. A. But we trifle with our precious moments; such 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 undeserved 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? Capt. A. 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.) Capt. A. 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.) Enter MRS. MALAPROP, listening. Mrs. M. I am impatient to know how the little hussey deports herself. (Aside.) [abated? Capt. A. So pensive, Lydia! is then your warmth Mrs. M. Warmth abated?-so!-she has been in a passion, I suppose. (Aside.) Lyd. No, nor ever can, while I have life. Mrs. M. An ill-temper'd little devil! She'll be in a passion all her life, will she? (Aside.) Lyd. Let her choice be Captain Absolute, but Beverley is mine. Mrs. M. Iam astonished at her assurance! to his face, this to his face! (Aside.) Capt. A. Thus, then, let me enforce my suit. (Kneeling.) Mrs. M. Ay, poor young man! down on his knees, entreating for pity! I can contain no longer. (Aside.) Why, thou vixen! I have overheard you. Capt. A. Oh, confound her vigilance! (Aside.) Mrs. M. Captain Absolute, I know not how to apologise for her shocking rudeness. Capt. A. So-all's safe, I find. (Aside.) I have hopes, madam, that time will bring the young lady Mrs. M. O, there's nothing to be hoped for from her! she's as headstrong as an allegory on the banks of Nile. [now? Lyd, Nay, madam, what do you charge me with Mrs. M. Good heavens, what assurance! Lydia, Lydia, you ought to know that lying don't be ome a young woman! Didn't you boast that Beverleythat stroller, Beverley-possessed your heart? Tell me that, I say. Lyd. 'Tis true, madam, and none but BeverleyMrs. M. Hold! hold, assurance! you shall not be so rude. Capt. A. 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. M. You are too good, Captain; too amiably patient: but come with me, miss: let us see you again soon, Captain: remember what we have Capt. A. I shall, ma'am. [fixed. Mrs. M. Come, take a graceful leave of the gentleman. Lyd. May every blessing wait on my Beverley, my loved Bev-(Mrs. M. prevents her speaking.) Mrs. M. Hussey! Come along, come along. [Exeunt, Capt. Absolute, kissing his hand to Lydia, Mrs. Malaprop and Lydia. SCENE IV.-Acres' Lodgings. Acres. Indeed, David, 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 Dav. I'll call again, sir. (boring. 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 at the cooking, I wish I may die if I should have known the dish again myself. [Exit. Acres. (Comes forward, practising a dancing step.) Sink, slide, coupée. Confound the first inventors of cotillions, 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 ac counted a good stick in a country-dance. Ods jigs and tabors! I never valued your cross-over to the couple; figure in right and left, and I'd foot it with e'er a captain in the country! but those outlandish heathen allemandes and cotillions are quite beyond me! I shall never prosper at them, that's sure; mine are true born English legs, they don't understand their cursed French lingo! their pàs this, and pas that, and pàs t'other! d-me! my feet don't like to be called paws! Enter DAVID. Enter SIR LUCIUS O'TRIGGER. Sir L. Mr. Acres, I am delighted to embrace you Acres. My dear Sir Lucius, I kiss your hands. Sir L. 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 a very ill-used gentleman. Sir L. Pray, what is the case? I ask no names. Acres. Mark me, Sir Lucius; I fall as deep as ne d 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 L. 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. Ods slanders and lies! he must be at the bottom of it. Sir L. A rival in the case, is there? and you think has supplanted you unfairly? Acres. Unfairly! to be sure he has. He never could have done it fairly. Sir L. Then sure you know what is to be done! Acres. Not I, upon my soul! [stand me? Sir L. We wear no swords here, but you underAcres. What! fight him? Sir L. Ay, to be sure: what can I mean else? Acres. But he has given me no provocation. Sir L. Now, I think he has given you the greatest provocation in the world. Can a man commit a more heinous offence against another, than to fall in love with the same woman? Oh! by my soul, it is the most unpardonable breach of friendship. Acres. Breach of friendship! Ay, ay; but I have no acquaintance with this man. I never saw him in my life. Sir L. That's no argument at all; he has the less right then to take such a liberty. Acres. 'Gad, that's true; I grow full of anger, Sir Lucius! I fire apace; ods hilts and blades! I find a man may have a deal of valour in him, and not know it! But couldn't I contrive to have a little right on my side? Sir L. What the devil signifles right when your honour is concerned? do you think Achilles, or my little Alexander the Great, ever inquired where the right lay? No, by my soul, they drew their broadswords, and left the lazy sons of peace to settle the justice of it. Acres. Your words are a grenadier's march to my heart! I believe courage must be catching; I certainly do feel a kind of valour arising, as it werea kind of courage, as I may say; ods flints, pans, and triggers! I'll challenge him directly. Sir L. Ah! my little friend, if we had Blunderbuss Hall here-I could shew you a range of ancestry, in the O"Trigger line, that would furnish the New Room, every one of whom had killed his man. For though the mansion bouse and dirty acres have slipped through my fingers, I thank heaven, our honour and the family pictures are as fresh as ever. Acres. Oh! Sir Lucius, I have had ancestors too; every man of them colonel or captain in the militia: ods balls and barrels, say no more - I'm braced for it. The thunder of your words has soured the milk of human kindness in my breast. Zounds! as the man in the play says, "I could do such deeds." Sir L. Come, come, there must be no passion at all in the case; these things should always be done civilly. Acres. I must be in a passion, Sir Lucius; I must be in a rage. Dear Sir Lucius, let me be in a rage, if you love me. Come, here's pen and paper. (Sits down to write.) I would the ink were red; indite, I say, indite. How shall I begin? Ods bullets and blades, I'll write a good bold hand, Sr L. Pray compose yourself. [however. Acres. Come, now, shall I begin with an oath? Do, Sir Lucius, let me begin with a damn? Sir L. Pho! pho! do the thing decently, and like a Christian. Begin now. Sir Acres. That's too civil by half. Sir L. To prevent the confusion that might arise— Acres. Well Sir L. From our both addressing the same lady- Acres. Well, then-honour of your company- Acres. Well. Sir L. Let me see; ay, King's Mead-fields will do -in King's Mead-fields. Acres. So, that's done. Well, I'll fold it up presently; my own crest, a hand and dagger, shall be the seal. Sir L. You see, now, this little explanation will put a stop at once to all confusion or misunderstanding that might arise between you. [standing. Acres. Ay, we fight to prevent any misunderSir L. Now, I'll leave you to fix your own time. Take my advice, and you'll decide it this evening if you can; then, let the worst come of it, 'twill be off your mind to-morrow. Acres. Very true. you Sir L. So I shall see nothing more of you, unless it be by letter, till the evening. I would do myself the honour to carry your message; but, to tell a secret, I believe I shall have just such another affair on my own hands. There is a gay captain here who put a jest on me lately at the expense of my country, and I only want to fall in with the gentleman to call him out. Acres. By my valour, I should like to see you fight first. Ods life, I should like to see you kill him, if it was only to get a little lesson. Sir L. I shall be very proud of instructing you. Well, for the present-but remember now, when you meet your antagonist, do every thing in a mild and agreeable manner. Let your courage be as keen, but at the same time, as polished as your sword. [Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I-Acres Lodgings. Dav. Then, by the mass, sir, I would do no such thing; ne'er a Sir Lucius O'Trigger in the kingdom should make me fight when I wasn't so minded. Oons! what will the old lady say when she hears o't? Acres. But my honour, David, my honour! I must be very careful of my honour. Dav. Ay, by the mass, and I would be very careful of it, and I think in return my honour couldn't do less than be very careful of me. Acres. Ods blades! David, no gentleman will ever risk the loss of his honour. Dav. I say, then, it would be but civil in honour never to risk the loss of a gentleman. Lookye |