ing, is a subject more fit for ridicule than compassion! [Exit. Faulk. I feel his reproaches; yet I would not change this too exquisite nicety for the gross content with which he tramples on the thorns of love. His engaging me in this duel has started an idea in my head, which I will instantly pursue; I'll use it as the touchstone of Julia's sincerity and disinterestedness; if her love prove pure, and sterling ore, my name will rest on it with honour! and, once I've stamped it there, I'll lay aside my doubts for ever. [Exit.

ACT V.

SCENE I.-Julia's Dressing room.
Enter JULIA.

Jul. How this message has alarmed me! what dreadful accident can he mean? why such charge to be alone? O Faulkland! how many unhappy moments, how many tears, have you cost me! Enter FAULKLAND. What means this? why this caution, Faulkland? Faulk. Alas, Julia! I am come to take a long farewell!

Jul. Heav'ns! what do you mean? Faulk. You see before you a wretch, whose life is forfeited. Nay, start not; the infirmity of my temper has drawn all this misery on me. I left you fretful and passionate; an untoward accident drew me into a quarrel; the event is, that I must fly this kingdom instantly. Oh! Julia, had I been so fortunate as to have called you mine entirely, before this mischance had fallen on me, I should not so deeply dread my banishment.

Jul. My soul is oppressed with sorrow at the nature of your misfortune; had these adverse circumstances arisen from a less fatal cause, I should have felt strong comfort in the thought, that I could now chase from your bosom every doubt of the warm sincerity of my love. My heart has long nown no other guardian; I now entrust my person to your honour; we will fly together; when safe from pursuit, my father's will may be fulfilled, and I receive a legal claim to be the partner of your sorrows, and tenderest comforter.

Faulk. O Julia! I am bankrupt in gratitude! Would you not wish some hours to weigh the advantages you forego, and what little compensation poor Faulkland can make you, beside his solitary love?

Jul. I ask not a moment, No, Faulkland, I have loved you for yourself: and if I now, more than ever, prize the solemn engagement which so long has pledged us to each other, it is because it leaves no room for hard aspersions on my fame, and puts the seal of duty to an act of love. But let us not linger; perhaps this delay

Faulk. Twill be better I should not venture out again till dark: yet I am grieved to think what numberless distresses will press heavy on your gentle disposition.

Jul. Perhaps your fortune may be forfeited by this unhappy act? I know not whether 'tis so, but sure that alone can never make us unhappy. The little I have will be sufficient to support us, and exile never should be splendid.

Faulk. Ay, but in such an abject state of life, my wounded pride, perhaps may increase the natural fretfulness of my temper, till I become a rude, morose companion, beyond your patience to endure.

Jul. If your thoughts should assume so unhappy a bent, you will the more want some mild and affectionate spirit to watch over and console you; one who, by bearing your infirmities with gentle

ness and resignation, may teach you so to bear the evils of your fortune.

Faulk. Julia, I have proved you to the quick; and with this useless device, I throw away all my doubts. How shall I plead to be forgiven this last unworthy effect of my restless, unsatisfied disposition? [lated?

Jul. Has no such disaster happened as you reFaulk. I am ashamed to own that it was all pretended. Let me to-morrrow, in the face of heaven, receive my future guide and monitress, and expiate my past folly. by tears of tender adoration.

Jul. Hold, Faulkland! that you are free from a crime, which I before feared to name, heaven knows how sincerely I rejoice! These are tearsof thankfulness for that. But, that your cruel doubts should have urged you to an imposition that has wrung my heart, gives me now a pang more keen than I can express.

Faulk. By heavens! Julia-→→→

Jul. Yet hear me. My father loved you, Faulkland! and you preserved the life that tender parent gave me; in his presence I pledged my hand; joyfully pledged, where before I had given my heart. When, soon after, I lost that parent, it seemed to me, that Providence had, in Faulkland, shewn me whither to transfer, without a pause, my grateful duty as well as my affection: hence I have been content to bear from you, what pride and delicacy would have forbid me from another. I will not upbraid you by repeating how you have trifled with my sincerity.

Faulk. I confess it all; yet, hear

Jul. After such a year of trial, I might have flattered myself that I should not have been insulted with a new probation of my sincerity, as cruel, as unnecessary. I now see that it is not in your nature to be content or confident in love. With this conviction I never will be yours.

Faulk. Nay, but, Julia, by my soul and honour! If, after this

Jul. But one word more. As my faith has once been given to you, I never will barter it with another. I shall pray for your happiness with the truest sincerity; and the dearest blessing 1 can ask of heaven to send you, will be to charm you from that unhappy temper, which alone has prevented the performance of our solemn engagement. All I request of you is, that you will yourself reflect upon this infirmity; and, when you number up the many true delights it has deprived you of, let it not be your least regret, that it lost you the love of one who would have followed you in beggary through the world. [Exit.

Faulk. She's gone! for ever! There was an awful resolution in her manner, that riveted me to my place. O fool! dolt! barbarian! Cursed as I am, with more imperfections than my fellow wretches, kind fortune sent a heaven-gifted cherub to my aid; and, like a ruffian, I have driven her from my side! I must now haste to my appointment. Well, my mind is tuned for such a scene: I shall wish only to become a principal in it, and reverse the tale my cursed folly put me upon forging here. O love! tormentor! fiend! whose influence, like the moon's acting on men of dull souls makes idiots of them, but meeting subtler spirits, betrays their course, and urges sensibility to mad[Exit.

ness!

Enter Maid and LYDIA.. Maid. My mistress, ma'am, I know, was here, just now; perhaps she is only in the next room. [Exit. Lyd. Heigho! Though he has used me so, this fellow runs strangely in my head. I believe one

call him.

Enter JULIÀ.

Oh! Julia, I am come to you with such an appetite for consolation! Lud, child! what's the matter with you? You have been crying! I'll be hanged if that Faulkland has not been tormenting you!

Jul. You mistake the cause of my uneasiness. Something has flurried me a little. Nothing that you can guess at. I would not accuse Faulkland to a sister. (Aside.)

Lyd. Ah! whatever vexations you may have, I can assure you mine surpass them. You know who Beverley proves to be?

Jul. I will now own to you, Lydia, that Mr. Faulkland had before informed me of the whole affair.

Lyd. So, then, I see I have been deceived by every one! but I don't care, I'll never have him.

Jul. Nay, Lydia

Lyd. Why, is it not provoking, when I thought we were coming to the prettiest distress imaginable, to find myself made a nere Smithfield bargain of at last? There had I projected one of the most sentimental elopements! so becoming a disguise! so amiable a ladder of ropes! Conscious moon; four horses; Scotch parson; with such surprise to Mrs. Malaprop! and such paragraphs in the newspaper. Oh! I shall die with disappointment! Jul. I don't wonder at it

Lyd. Now; sad reverse! what have I to expect; but after a deal of flimsy preparation, with a bishop's license, and my aunt's blessing, to go simpering up to the altar? or, perhaps be cried three times in a country church, and have an unmannerly fat clerk ask the consent of every butcher in the parish, to join John Absolute, and Lydia Languish, spinster? Oh! that I should live to hear myself called spinster!

Jul. Melancholy, indeed!

Lyd. How mortifying, to remember the dear, delicious shifts I used to be put to, to gain half a minute's conversation with this fellow! How often have I stolen forth in the coldest night in January, and found him in the garden stuck like a dripping statue! There would he kneel to me in the snow, and sneeze and cough, so pathetically! and, while the freezing blast numbed our joints, how warmly would he press me to pity his flame, and glow with mutual ardour! Ah! Julia, that was something like being in love!

Jul. If I were in spirits, Lydia, I should chide you only by laughing heartily at you; but it suits more the situation of my mind at present earnestly to entreat you, not to let a man, who loves you with sincerity, suffer that unhappiness from your caprice which I know too well caprice can inflict. Lyd. Oh, lud! what has brought my aunt here? Enter MRS. MALAPROP and DAVID. Mrs. M. So, so! here s fine work! here's fine suicide, paracide, and simulation, going on in the fields! and Sir Anthony not to be found to prevent the antistrophe! Imeaning of this? Jul. For heaven's sake! madam, what's the Mrs. M. That gentleman can tell you; 'twas he enveloped the affair to me.

Lyd. Oh, patience! Do, ma'am, for heaven's sake! tell us what is the matter!

Mrs. M. Why murder's the matter! slaughter's the matter! killing's the matter! But he can tell you the perpendiculars. (Pointing to David.) Jul. Do speak, friend. (To Darid) Dav. Lookye, my lady-by the mass! there's mischief going on. Folks don't use to meet for

fire-screens, fire-office, and the devil knows what' other crackers beside! This my lady, I say has an angry favour. To be sure, Captain Absolute,Jul. But who is engaged?

Dav. My poor master; under favour for mentioning him first. You know me, my lady-I am David-and my master of course is, or was, 'squiro Acres, and Captain Absolute,-Then comes 'squire Faulkland. [prevent mischief.

Jul. Do, ma'am, let us instantly endeavour to Mrs. M. Oh, fie! it would be very inelegant in us: we should only participate things. [vent them. Lyd. Do, my dear aunt, let us hasten to preDav. Ah! do, Mrs. Aunt, save a few lives! they are desperately given, believe me. Above all, there is that blood-thirsty Philistine, Sir Lucius O'Trigger.

Mrs. M. Sir Lucius O'Trigger! O mercy! have they drawn poor, little, dear Sir Lucius into the scrape! (Aside.) Why, how you stand, girl! you have no more feeling than one of the Derbyshire putrefactions!

Lyd. What are we to do, madam?

Mrs. M. Why, fly with the utmost felicity, to be sure, to prevent mischief! Come, girls, this gentleman will exhort us. Come, sir, you're our envoy; lead the way, and we'll precede. You're sure you know the spot.

Dav. Oh! never fear; and ono good thing is, we shall find it out by the report of the pistols. All the Ladies. The pistols! Oh! let us fly. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Kings Mead-fields. Enter SIR LUCIUS, and ACRES, with pistols. Acres. By my valour, then, Sir Lucius, forty yards is a good distance. Ods levels and aims! I say, it is a good distance.

Sir L. It is for muskets, or small field pieces; upon my conscience, Mr. Acres, you must leave these things to me. Stay, now I'll show you. (Measures paces along the stage.) There, Bow, that is a very pretty distance; a pretty gentleman's distance.

Acres. Zounds! we might as well fight in a sentry-box! I tell you, Sir Lucius, the farther he is off, the cooler I shall take my aim.

Sir L. 'Faith, then, I suppose you would aim at him best of all if he was out of sight!

Acres. No, Sir Lucius; but I should think forty, or eight-and-thirty yards

Sir L. Pho! pho! nonsense! three or four feet between the mouths of your pistols is as good as a mile.

Acres. Ods bullets, no! by my valour there is no merit in killing him so near! Do, my dear Sir Lucius, let me bring him down at a long shot: a long shot, Sir Lucius, if you love me!

Sir L. Well: the gentleman's friend and I must settle that. But tell me now, Mr. Acres, in case of an accident, is there any little will or commission I could execute for you?

Acres. I am much obliged to you, Sir Lucius; but I don't understand

Sir L. Why, you may think there's no being shot at without a little risk; and, if an unlucky bullet should carry a quietus with it-I say, it will be no time then to be bothering you about family Acres. A quietus! [matters.

Sir L. For instance, now; if that should be the case, would you choose to be pickled, and seut home? or would it be the same to you to lie here in the Abbey? I'm told there is very snug lying in the Abbey.

Acres. Pickled! Snug lying in the Abbey! Ods tremors! Sir Lucius, don't talk so!

Sir L. I suppose, Mr. Acres, you were never engaged in an affair of this kind before?

Acres. No, Sir Lucius, never before.

Sir L. Ah! that's a pity; there's nothing like being used to a thing. Pray, how would you receive the gentleman's shot?

Acres. Ods filles! I've practised that; there, Sir Lucius, there-(puts himself into an attitude)—a sidefront, eh? Od, I'll make myself small enough; I'll stand edgeways.

Sir L. Now, you're quite out; for if you stand so when I take my aim-(Levelling at him.) Acres. Zounds, Sir Lucius! are you sure it is not Sir L. Never fear. [cocked? Acres. But-but-you don't know; it may go off of its own head!

Sir L. Pho! be easy. Well, now, if I hit you in the body, my bullet has a double chance; for if it misses a vital part on your right side, 'twill be very hard if it don't succeed on the left.

Acres. A vital part!

Sir L. But there; fix yourself so - (placing him) -let him see the broadside of your full front; there now a ball or two may pass clean through your body, and never do you any harm at all.

Acres. Clean through me! a ball or two clean through me!

Sir L. Ay, may they; and it is much the genteelest attitude in the bargain.

Acres. Lookye, Sir Lucius. I'd just as lieve be shot in an awkward posture, as a genteel one; so, by my valour! I will stand edgeways.

Sir. L. (Looking at his watch.) Sure, they don't mean to disappoint us; ha! no faith. I think I see them coming. Acres. Eh! what! coming![the stile? Sir L. Ay, who are those yonder, getting over Acres. There are two of them indeed! well, let them come; hey, Sir Lucius! we-we-we-weSir L. Run! fwon't run.

Acres. No, I say, we won't run, by my valour! Sir L. What the devil's the matter with you? Acres. Nothing, nothing, my dear friend; my dear Sir Lucius: but I-I-I don't feel quite so bold somehow as I did.

Sir L. O fie! consider your honour. Acre. Ay true; my honour; do, Sir Lucius, edge in a word or two, every now and then, about my honour.

Sir L. Well, here they're coming. (Looking.) Acres. Sir Lucius, if I wasn't with you I should almost think I was afraid. If my valour should leave me! valour will come and go.

Sir L. Then pray keep it fast while you have it. Acres. Sir Lucius; I doubt it is going; yes, my valour is certainly going, it is sneaking off! I feel it oozing out as it were, at the palms of my hands. Sir L. Your honour, your honour-Here they are. Acres. Oh, that I was safe at Clod Hall! or could be shot before I was aware!

Enter FAULKLAND and CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE. Sir L. Gentlemen, your most obedient; ha, what, Captain Absolute. So, I suppose, sir, you are come here, just like myself, to do a kind of office, first for your friend, then to proceed to business on your own account? [friend! Acres. What Jack! my dear Jack! my dear Capt. A. Harkye, Bob, Beverley's at hand. Sir L. Wel', Mr. Acres. I don't blame your saluting the gentleman civilly. So. Mr. Beverley, (to Faul land) if you choose your weapons, the Captain and I will measure the ground.

Faulk. My weapons, sir!

Acres. Ods life! Sir Lucius, I'm not going to fight Mr. Faulkland; these are my particular friends. Sir L. What, sir, did you not come here to fight Faulk. Not I, upon my word, sir. [Mr Acres? Sir L. Well, now, that's mighty provoking! But I hope, Mr. Faukland, as there are three of us come on purpose for the game, you won't be so cantankerous as to spoil the party, by sitting out. Capt. A. Oh, pray, Faulkland, fight to oblige Sir Lucius. [matter.

Faulk. Nay, if Mr. Acres is so bent on the Acres. No, no, Mr. Faulkland, I'll bear my disappointment like a Christian. Lookye, 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 L. 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 shew his face. If he were here, I'd make him give up his pretensions directly!

Capt. A. 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. [opportunity

Sir L. Well, this is lucky. Now you have an Acres. What, quarrel with my dear friend, Jack Absolute! not if he were fifty Beverleys! Zounds! Sir Lucius, you would not have me be so unnatural! Sir L. Upon my conscience, Mr. Acres, your valour has oozed away with a vengeance!

Acres. Not in the least! ods 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. [coward

Sir L. Pho! pho! you are little better than a Acres. Mind, gentlemen, he calls me a coward; coward was the word, by my valour.

Sir L. Well, sir?

Acres. Lookye, Sir Lucius, 'tisn't that I mind the word coward. Coward may be said in a joke. But if you had called me a poltroon, ods daggers Sir L. Well, sir? [and ballsAcres. I should have thought you a very ill-bred Sir L. Pho! you are beneath my notice. [man. Cept. A. Nay, Sir Lucius, you can't have a better second than my friend Acres. He is a most determined dog; called in the country, Fighting Bob. He generally kills a man a week;-don't you Bob?

Sir L. 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?

Capt A. Come on then, sir, (draws) since you won't let it be an amicable suit, here's my reply.

Enter SIR ANTHONY, DAVID, and the Ladies. Dar. 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?

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