WRITTEN BY MR. LLOYD. SPOKEN BY MR. GARRICK. THE Jealous Wife! a comedy! poor man! Tinge but the language with heroic chime, Books too he read, nor blush'd to use their store- He spoil and plunder with a robber's hand, [Noise heard within. Mrs. O. [Within] DON'T tell me I know it is so It's monstrous, and I will not bear it, [Squabbling within. Enter MRS. OAKLY, with a Letter, followed by OAKLY. Mrs. O. Say what you will, Mr. Oakly, you shall never persuade me but this is some filthy intrigue of yours. Oak. I can assure you, my love Mrs. O. Your love!-Don't I know your-Tell me, 1 say, this instant, every circumstance relating to this letter. Oak. How can I tell you, when you will not so much as let me see it? Mrs. O. Look you, Mr. Oakly, this usage is not to be borne. You take a pleasure in abusing my tenderness and soft disposition.-To be perpetually running over the whole town, nay, the whole kingdom too, in pursuit of your amours!—Did not I discover that you was great with mademoiselle, my own woman?-Did not you contract a shameful familiarity with Mrs. Freeman?-Did not I detect your intrigue with lady Wealthy?-Was not you Oak. Oons! madam, the grand Turk himself has not half so many mistresses- -You throw me out of all patience-Do I know any body but our common friends? -Am I visited by any body that does not visit you?— Do I ever go out, unless you go with me?-And am I not as constantly by your side as if I was tied to your apron-strings? Mrs. O. Go, go, you are a false man-Have not I found you out a thousand times? And have not I this moment a letter in my hand, which convinces me of your baseness? Let me know the whole affair, or I will Oak. Let you know! Let me know what you would have of me- -You stop my letter before it comes to my hands, and then expect that I should know the con tents of it! Mrs. O. Heaven be praised, I stopped it!-I suspected some of these doings for some time past—But the letter informs me who she is, and I'll be revenged on her sufficiently. Oh, you base man, you! Oak. I beg, my dear, that you would moderate your passion!-Show me the letter, and I'll convince you of my innocence. Mrs. O. Innocence! Abominable!-Innocence!But I am not to be made such a fool-I am convinced of your perfidy, and very sure that Oak. 'Sdeath and fire! your passion hurries you out of your senses Will you hear me? Mrs. O. No, you are a base man: and I will not hear you. Oak. Why then, my dear, since you will neither talk reasonably yourself, nor listen to reason from me, I shall take iny leave till you are in a better humour. So your servant! [Going. 'Mrs. O. Ay, go, you cruel man!- Go to your mistresses, and leave your poor wife to her miseries. How unfortunate a woman am I!-I could die with vexation[Throwing herself into a Chair. Oak. There it is-Now dare not I stir a step further -If I offer to go, she is in one of her fits in an instant -Never sure was woman at once of so violent and so delicate a constitution! What shall I say to sooth her? [Aside] Nay, never make thyself so uneasy, my dear— Come, come, you know I love you. Mrs. O. 1 know you hate me; and that your unkindness and barbarity will be the death of me. [Whining. Oak. Do not vex yourself at this rate-I love you most passionately-Indeed I do─This must be some mistake. Mrs. O. Oh, I am an unhappy woman! [Weeping Oak. Dry up thy tears, my love, and be comforted! You will find that I am not to blame in this matter-Come, let me see this letter- -Nay, you shall not deny me. [Takes the Letter. Mrs. O. There! take it; you know the hand, I am sure. Oak. [Reads] To Charles Oakly, Esq.-Hand! 'Tis a clerk-like band, a good round text! and was certainly never penned by a fair lady. Mrs. O. Ay, laugh at me, do! Oak. Forgive me, my love, I did not mean to laugh at thee- But what says the letter? [Reads] Daughter eloped-you must be privy to it-scandalous-dishonourable-satisfaction-revenge-um, um, um father, -injured HENRY RUSSET. Mrs. O. [Rising] Well, sir-you see I have detected you- -Tell me this instant where she is concealed. Oak. So-so-so-This hurts me-I'm shocked. [To himself. Mrs. O. What, are you confounded with your guilt? Have I caught you at last? Oak. O that wicked Charles! To decoy a young lady from her parents in the country! The profligacy of the young fellows of this age is abominable. [To himself. Mrs. O. [Half aside, and musing] Charles!-Let me -Charles!-No! Impossible! This is all a trick. Oak. He has certainly ruined this poor lady. [To himself. see! |