little, dapper, dusky damsel, with a poll as black | heat of the passions, a jury will bring it in man slaughter. self? Man. You have sometimes told me I was passionate; I never heard you say as much for yourself. A. Night. But if there was no malice in the deed, how can it ever be deemed murder? Man. Malice is threefold: first, malice ex Dib. Good sir, be not offended. Mr Night-press; secondly, malice implied; thirdly, malice shade first borrowed your name, and my sister, to keep up the jest, made free with that of Miss Fairfax-nothing but a frolic. Cha. Man. What do you tell me? Did my brother take my name in any interview with Miss Fairfax? Dib. Certainly, sir; she calls him Mr Manlove at this moment. Cha. Man. Away; your news has saved your ears; away! Dib. 'Egad,' we are all blown up! I must go and tell Lucy to make her peace. [Erit DIB. J. Night. How now? what's this? Hallo! Where's Dibble running? Cha. Man. Your humble servant, Mr Manlove-Take my name, my credit from me, Jack? It is too much. You must be saved, however. J. Night. I must be satisfied. Is this fair dealing? Where is Dibble gone? Cha. Man. Let him go where he will; he has made a fool of you. J. Night. Yes; but I'm not a fool to take your word for that: so let me pass. Cha. Man. Nay, Jack, but hear reason- Cha. Man. I say the lady; have a care she does not prove the lady's maid. J. Night. The maid! Ah, brother, I'm too cunning to take that upon trust. You have raised my curiosity, however, and I will know the truth-So let me go, for go I will, and that's enough. [Exit J. NIGHT. Cha. Man. A match; we'll start together. My happiness is sure as much concerned in this discovery, as yours. SCENE II. STAPLETON's house. [Erit. Enter MR ANDREW NIGHTSHADE and MR MAN LOVE. A. Night. I should think, brother, there's no danger but a jury will see the action in this light. Man. 'Tis hard to say; juries are ticklish things; the law will look to the motives. If it shall appear that it was done, not from the wickedness of the heart, but from the sudden prepense of each in their order A. Night. Psha! prithee, what avails describing any, when I've none of all the three? Man. Had you no quarrel, then, before the act? A. Night. Quarrel! why no-or if 1 had, twas only a few words. Man. Is that the cane you struck him with; A. Night. This is the twig; I call it nothing more. Man. I doubt the law will construe it a weapon of offence. A. Night. And pray now was his not a weapon of offence? I believe the whole town thinks it such, of great offence: sick or well, there is no repose for those horns. What I did was in selfdefence. Man. I fear 'twill not be thought so. If indeed you had any wound to show, whereby the violence of the battery might be proved A. Night. Wound! why I have a wound and as bad a one as his; only mine lies within side of my head, and his without: he has broke the drum of my ears. Man. What do you talk of ears? if you had been happy enough now to have lost a finger, an eye, or a fore-tooth, it would have been the loss of a defensive member, and a mayhem at common law. A. Night. Well, brother, be so kind to tell me what I am to do. Man. Repent. A. Night. Why, so I will, provided you say nothing about the matter, and my country acquits me upon the trial; but if I am to be panished for my faults, what signifies repenting of them into the bargain? Man. Well, Andrew, 1 must tell you there is yet a way of getting honourably out of this affair, provided you will bind yourself to me, never to lift your hand in wrath against a fellow-crea ture. A. Night. Why, no, to be sure I shan't; I thought all skulls were as hard as Gregory's. Man. Come, you must have done with Gregory's; nay, I would not alone exempt man from your fury, but beast likewise: Cruelty must not be practised in any shape: Nature must not be wounded in any of her works. Promise me this, upon the faith of an honest man, and I'll redeem you from this scrape. S charmingly he looks! A. Night. Look'e, brother, I am sensible of know one colour from another. O Heavens, how the folly of it; but as it's impossible to say where temptation may lead, there lies the fatal weapon; use it who will: I'll never take another stick in hand, till I'm obliged to go upon crut[Throws down his cane. ches. 1 Man. Say you so ? then I'll cure your broken head in an instant. Come with me, and you shall see what dispatch I can make upon occasion. [Exeunt. SCENE III.- The Painting room. LETITIA is discovered painting; Lucy attending; a Layman placed at some distance. Let. These touches come off well; this last sitting was a good one: methinks I never was in better luck. Lucy, what say you; is it like? Lucy. Like, madam! 'tis alive; 'tis Mr Stapleton himself. Let. Is the servant gone for his clothes to dress the layman? I'll positively rub in the drapery now I'm about it. Well, child, I've turned this matter in my head, and I believe I must forgive you; there's no holding out against contrition: I believe your brother was to blame-So this painter then is Mr Manlove? Lucy. Yes, madan, and a lovely man he is; if you please to remember, I told you so the first moment I saw him; so genteel, so well-bred, so perfectly the gentleman. Oh, here comes Thomas with the clothes-shall I help to put them on? Enter Servant. Let. So, so! that's right-let the arm fall naturally-it's very well as it is-Now turn the layman with its side to me-no, t'other way-a little more. Stay, let me do it myself. Now stand away that's it. Ser. Have you any further commands, madam? Let. No-yes. If the young gentleman who was with me this morning should call again, shew him up hither. Ser. The painter? Let. Yes, the painter, as you call him. Ser. Madam, he is this moment come into the court-yard. Let. Indeed! then do as I bid you. [Erit Ser.] So, so, he has found out the mistake as well as myself. Lucy. Pray, madam, give me leave to go and show Mr Manlove hither. Let. Do so, Lucy, do so-What a flutter am I in?-but, hark'e, don't give him any intimation | that I know him. [Exit Lucx.] This is happy! I am such a gainer by this revolution, that I cannot find in my heart to be angry with the girlThat ever I should be the bubble of so gross an imposition! Hark! he's coming. I'll pretend to be at work! though I am so confused, I don't Enter CHARLES MANLOVE. Cha. Man. I ask a thousand pardons: I intreat I mayn't disturb you. Let. Oh, sir, don't mention it. You see I use no ceremony. Cha. Man. You're infinitely obliging. I have ventured once again, Miss Fairfax, to intrude upon your patience. Let. As often as you please; you're always welcome here. Come hither-I must have your judgment. How do you like what I have done? Cha. Man. All that you do is well; but you'll forgive me I am full of other thoughts, and wish to lose no moment of this happy opportunity. Let. Pish! I must have you flatter me: Sit down-This drapery puzzles me-Sit down, I say: Your modern habits are so stiff! How shall I manage it? Come, take the chalk-nay, no excuse. Though you are so smartly dressed, you absolutely must assist me. Cha. Man. I beg to be excused: my happiness is staked upon this crisis: my heart is full, and must have vent. Let. How can you be so tiresome? Now you are going upon the old topic, Mr Manlove. Cha. Man. I must confess it is of him that I would speak. Let. Fye, fye upon you! call to mind your promise. Hold-suppose I throw aside this ugly brown and gold, and put him in a fancy dress: What say you? Cha. Man. Nothing: for I am nothing: I have no art, no faculty of painting; I am an impostor. On my knees I do beseech you, forgive and hear me. Let. Pray be composed, nor let your zeal for Mr Manlove agitate you thus. I'll save you all this trouble, by confessing freely to you, I have changed my mind since last we parted. Cha. Man. Changed! as how? Let. As you'll be pleased to hear. I think of Mr Manlove now as favourably as you yourself could wish. Cha. Man. Madam Let. I think the woman must be blest, whom such a man shall honour with his choice. Cha. Man. Indeed! I may presume, then, you would condescend to countenance his addresses? Let. That's a home question; but I think it is not easy to deny him any thing. Cha. Man. I'm thunderstruck! The boy has told me the truth; she likes him, and 1 am undone! Let. What is the matter now? You seem quite disconcerted. Is not this the very point you aimed at? Hav'n't I confest all that you wished? Cha. Man. Oh, no! You torture me. Let. Man, restless man! whom nothing I can do will satisfy: offended, when I refuse your friend; when I accept him, tortured! Cha. Man. And tortured I must be: for know, most wretched as I am, it is not for a friend Í plead, but for myself. Let. Well, sir, I'm free to say, 'I still abide by my confession. What you tell me shakes not my esteem for Mr Manlove. Cha. Man. Then I have lost you; for that Manlove is my younger brother, and has won you under a fictitious name: I, that really own it, am discarded. Let. How purblind you long-sighted wits sometimes can be! You tell me you are Mr Manlove; have I revoked my opinion? You say your brother took your name; have I expressed myself in favour of Mr Nightshade? Cha. Man. O, Heavens! I do begin to hopeLet. You should not puzzle me with such cross purposes. Will you be Mr Manlove, and believe what I now say of him, or give that name to your brother, and hear me repeat what I lately said of him? Cha. Man. Oh, let me be what you approve ! I ask no higher blessing. Let. We are interrupted. See, your formidable rival! Oh, you have made a fine confusion -Come away. [Ereunt. Enter JACK NIGHTSHADE. J. Night. Hist! hark'e, brother Charles! He won't turn back, and I dare not follow him, for fear I run into old Crusty's jaws. I am fain to go as warily in this house as if I was riding over a warren. Didlikins! here comes the girl at last-Oh, fye upon you, miss! oh fye Enter Lucy hastily. Lucy. Hush! hush! A truce to your proaches-Hide yourself; your father's at heels. lean upon you, comfort him; I dare be sworn he has need of it-Shame upon you, Mr Staple ton! What, you'll not speak, not you! Here comes one will make you speak, and stir too, to some tune. Here, madam, here's your virtuous husband! here's a picture of modern conjugal fidelity! Enter MRS STAPLETON. Mrs Stap. A picture, truly! for I think you're talking to nothing else. Why don't the girl open the shutters? What do you stand there for? [Sees JACK. O, ho! Enter MR STAPLETON and MANLOVE. Mr Stap. What! my old friend conferring with the layman? Break his head, Andrew, if you please; no manslaughter can lie there. [The window is opened. A. Night. How's this! why, I protest I took it for yourself; and I was scandalized to see a sober citizen in such close conference with damsel of so great temptations. Man. Come, brother, you have had one warning against anger; let this be a memento to guard against suspicion. A. Night. Brother, you know I can't endure advice; I see my error; that's enough. Mrs Stap. Yes, but you don't see all: there's more behind the scenes; your greatest error, Mr Nightshade, is not yet found out. A. Night. Why, what the vengeance have we here? Come out let's see your face. Son Jack! Furies and flames! My boy, as I'm alive! Man. This is judgment upon judgment! A. Night. Which of you all have conjured up this plot? Oh, theu unutterably vile and sorry puppy! Hound, that I have bred to tear my heart re-out-Jack, Jack! for you to use me thus! You my whom I've made my boast, the staff of my old age!-I would I had a staff! I'd beat your brains out with it, blockhead, so I would! J. Night. My father! Drown it! what shall I do now? Lucy. Here, get behind this layman; stoop: stand close. I'll put the shutters to; I owe you that good turn, at least, to bring you off. Stand close! Enter ANDREW NIGHTSHADE. A. Night. So, so! What's doing here? Darkness at mid-day! Your servant, Mr Stapleton-I see you notwithstanding; there you are: fine goings-on at your age! Smuggling your chambermaids in corners-Call you this fair trading? Oh, if your wife saw this! J. Night. [From behind.] For pity's sake, keep him off! He's coming! Lucy. Where are you coming, sir? Pray leave the room; your company disturbs him; don't you see how ill he is? A. Night. Poor gentleman! and so you shut out the light to make him better? Ay, let him Man. Hold, hold! no more of that-remember promises. A. Night. And in that jacket too! the sub stance of a farm laid out upon your back: sirrah, whence came that conjuror's coat, that scoundrel's livery! Answer me. J. Night. Father, 'tis none of mine; 'tis brother Charles's. A. Night. There, Mr Manlove! there's your pretty gentleman! a fine account! the corrupter of his brother! Stap. Be more patient, friend Andrew. A. Night. I won't be patient! I've a father's privilege to justify my passion. Hark'e, sir, what brought you up to town? Who seduced you hither? I suppose the fashionable scoundrel, who lent you that fool's coat. J. Night. Lord love you, father! 'twas a frolic of my own; Charles would have had me travelled home again. Man. What, is that like a seducer? J. Night. And so I should afore now, but that I fell into a kind of love-suit here, with the young lady of this house. Mrs Stap. What do you say? a love-suit? Stap. With my ward, Miss Fairfax? impossible! Lucy. Ay, now comes my examination: I had best escape. [Aside. J. Night. Hold, hold; my whole defence turns upon your testimony-Stay where you are. [To LUCY. • A. Night. Ay, let us hear; there's something in this plea: Let us hear more of the love-suit. J. Night. Nay, 'twas not much of a suit neither: it was very soon over; miss was coming, Dibble got a licence, and I bought a ring. Stap. Why, you're beside yourself, young man! A. Night. Go on! the boy speaks well, and shan't be brow-beat: hear him out. J. Night. And so, as I was telling you, I should have married her outright, if brother Charles had not thrown a spoke in my wheel. A. Night. See there, see there! What say you for your favourite now? Prove what you say, my lad, and I will do you justice to the extent of my estate. J. Night. Say you so, father? then it shall out: why, brother Charles, you must know, had a month's mind for the lady himself; so he pretended to persuade me that I was made a fool of, and that the girl I was going to marry was not Miss Fairfax. A. Night. There, there!-you hear it now from the tongue of truth and innocence: you're satisfied, I hope? I beg the lady may be sent for in. J. Night. Sent for! a pretty joke! why, there she stands. Mr and Mrs Stap. Ha, ha, ha! A. Night. I'm thunderstruck! J. Night. And so am I; for, if it had not been for brother Charles, as sure as you are here alive, we had both been happy before now. A. Night. This, this the lady? J. Night. Ay, father, that's she: I hope you like her? Stap. Lucy! Lucy Dibble! Man. The sister of my clerk! A. Night. Death and the devil! a chamber maid! Enter CHARLES MANLOVE. Cha. Man. Let but my father add his approbation, and my happiness shall be complete. Man. He can't withhold it. Come, throw prejudice aside; let wrath and jealousy be cast far from you: look upon this youth; he is your son; you are the principal, but do you substitute the justice to confess my system has succeeded; it is possible, you see, to gain a knowledge of this world, and not be tainted with its wickedness. A. Night. 'Tis mighty well; but for this cub of mine, I'll disinherit him to the devil; I could find in my heart to die to-morrow, for the pleasure of cutting him off with a shilling. J. Night. Lord, father, in that case, a little matter would content me. Man. Come, come, the law has made provision against that: Jack must inherit your estate, die when you will. A. Night. Then, I'll not die at all; I'll live for ever on purpose to plague him; I'll starve the whelp; he shall have nothing to live upon, Mrs Stap. Oh, you insidious hussy! what can | but rain-water and pig-nuts. you say for yourself? Lucy. I am not here upon my trial, madam; that is past, and Miss Fairfax has signed my pardon. As for this gentleman, if I did put a little trick upon him under my mistress's name, he paid me in my own coin, by passing himself off under his brother's. The parties represented are not present; but, let me stand at Miss Fairfax's side, and place him by Mr Manlove, and I leave Man. Then, Andrew, I will keep him; he shall live with me. A. Night. Say you so, brother? then, I'll forgive him, and keep him to myself'; and, since you talk of knowledge of the world, I'll show him what it is: come hither, Jack; I'll go with him as far as there is water to carry us; I'll travel him to the world's end: Zounds! I'll take him out of it, rather than be outgone. J. Night. Take the last stage by yourself, dear father! Farewell, uncle! good-bye, Charles! [Exeunt A. and J. NIGHT. Man. Incorrigible humourist! Come, my son, and come, my worthy friends: where is your amiable ward? I still have hopes this day of rancour and confusion will conclude with joy. Stap. And so it shall, if my persuasion can have weight. Mrs Stap. Persuasion never fails, when inclination aids it. Look, she comes! Cha. Man. And comes like Hope, like spring and sunshine to the longing year, with similes of soft complacency and love. Enter LETITIA. Let. Ay, now your rival's gone, you think the field your own; but every hour will raise fresh rivals, for every hour will draw forth fresh perfections from a character like your's, and each demand the preference in our admiration and applause, Stap. Well said, my girl! then there's a bargain made: What need of further words? Mrs Stap. Fy upon you, Mr Stapleton! you distress her; you are too much in haste about these matters. Mr Stap. Why, Dolly, you and I concluded our matter within the week. Mrs Stap. Longer; 'twas longer: don't believe him, Letitia. Let. Excuse me. I can readily believe, that hearts so fitted for each other, night unite at once by inutual attraction. Man. Dost thou believe it, fair one? then, away with all delay! not even the law, its own parent, shall be privileged in this case; we'll work like shipwrights at an armament, and Dibble, as a punishment for his intrigues, shall labour double tides. If marriage ever shall regain its dignity in this degenerate age, it must be by the union of such hearts as these. [Exeunt omnes. END OF VOLUME SECOND. |
