ÆäÀÌÁö À̹ÌÁö
PDF
ePub

Sir Bash. I don't know what to make of all | this. But there is no danger. As long as no body knows it, I may venture to love my wife. There will be no harm, while the secret is kept close as night, concealed, in tenfoid darkness, from the wits and scoffers of the age.

Enter LOVEMOre.

Well, well;-how? what have you done?
Love. As I could wish: she is infinitely obli-
ged to me, and will never forget the civility.
Sir Bash. A thousand thanks to you. I am.
not suspected?

Love. She has not a distant idea of you in this business. She was rather delicate at first, and hesitated, and thought it an indecorum to accept of money even from a friend. But that objection soon vanished. I told her, it is but too visible that she is unfortunately yoked with a husband, whose humour will never be softened down to the least compliance with her inclinations Sir Bash. That was well said, and had a good effect, I hope.

Love. I hope so, too.

Sir Bash. It helps to carry on the plot, you

know.

Love. Admirably; it puts things in the train I wish.

Sir Bash. And so, to cover the design, you gave me the worst of characters?

Love. I painted you in terrible colours. Sir Bash. Do so always, and she will never suspect me of being privy to any civility you may

shew her.

have deferred it till the evening-[Aside.] 'Sdeath! to be teased in this manner.

Sir Bash. [Aside.] No, no; he won't drop the mask. [Looks at LADY CONSTANT.] She has touched the cash; I can see the bank-notes sparkling in her eyes.

Mrs Love. If you don't go into the city till the evening, may I hope for your company at I dinner, Mr Lovemore?

Love. The question is entertaining; but, as it was settled this morning, I think it has lost the graces of novelty.

Sir Bash. He won't let her have the least suspicion of his regard. [Aside. Lady Con. I dare say Mr Lovemore will dine at home, if it conduces to your happiness, madam; and sir Bashful, I take it, will dine at home, for the contrary reason.

Sir Bash. Madam, I will dine at home, or I will dine abroad, for what reason I please; and it is my pleasure to give no reason for either.Lovemore! [Looks at him, and smiles. Love. [Aside to SIR BASHFUL.] Bravo!—What a blockhead it is!

Mrs Love. As you have your chariot at the door, Mr Lovemore, if you have no objection, I will send away my chair, and you may do me the honour of a place in your carriage.

Love. The honour will be very great to me; but-so many places to call at. -If I had known this sooner———— -You had better keep your

chair.

Sir Bash. [Aside.] Cunning! cunning! he would not be seen in his chariot with her for the world. He has more discretion than I have. Love. I would not have you know any thing of Lady Con. Mrs Lovemore, since you have, at my civility to her for the world. [Aside.] I have last, ventured to come abroad, I hope you will succeeded thus far. I talked a few musty sent-think it a change for the better. You are too ences, such as the person who receives a civility domestic. I shall expect now to see you often: confers the obligation, with more jargon to that and apropos, I am to have a route to morrow purpose; and so, with some reluctance she con- evening; if you will do me the honour of your plied at last, and things are now upon the foot-companying I would have them.-Death and fury! there comes my wife.

Sir Bush. Ay, and here comes my wife.
Love. What the devil brings her hither?
Sir Bash. [Aside.] Now, now; now let me see
how he will carry it before Mrs Lovemore.-
Walk in, madam! walk in, Mrs Lovemore.

Enter MRS LOVEMORE, and LADY CONSTANT,
at opposite doors.

Lady Con. Mrs Lovemore, to see you abroad is a novelty indeed.

Mrs Love. As great, perhaps, as that of finding your ladyship at home. Mr Lovemore, I did not expect to have the pleasure of meeting you.

Love. Then we are both agreeably surprised. Sir Bash. Now, mind how he behaves. [Aside. Mrs Love. I thought you were gone to your city banker.

Love. And you find that you are mistaken. I

Sir Bash. A route to-morrow evening! you have a route every evening, I think. Learn of Mrs Lovemore; imitate her example, and don't let me have your hurricane months all the year round in my house.-Hip! [Aside.] Lovemore, how do you like me?

Love. [Aside to SIR BASHFUL.] You improve upon it every if I had nothing to do.-My lady Constant, I have time. But I am loitering here, as the honour to wish your ladyship a good morning. Sir Bashful, yours-madam.

[Bows gravely to MRS LOVEMORE, hums a tune, and exit.

Sir Bash. [Aside.] He knows how to play the game. I'll try what I can do. Mrs Lovemore, I have the honour to wish you a good morning.

Madam

[Bows gravely to LADY CONSTANT, hums a tune, and erit.

Mrs Love. Two such husbands!

Lady Con. As to my swain, I grant you: Mr

!

Lovemore is, at least, well-bred; he has an understanding, and may, in time, reflect. Sir Bashful never qualifies himself with the smallest tincture of civility.

Mrs Love. If civility can qualify the draught, I must allow Mr Lovemore to have a skilful hand. But there is no end to his projects.Every day opens a new scene. Another of his intrigues is come to light. I came to consult with your ladyship. I know you are acquainted with the widow Bellmour.

Lady Con. The widow Bellmour! I know her perfectly well.

Mrs Love. Not so well, perhaps, as you may imagine. She has thrown out the lure for my wild gallant, and in order to deceive me

Lady Con. My dear, you must be mistaken.Who tells you this?

Mrs Love. Oh, I can trust to my intelligence. Sir Brilliant Fashion, by way of blind to me, has been this morning drawing so amiable a picture of the lady

Lady Con. Sir Brilliant's authority is not always the best; but, in this point, you may trust

him.

Mrs Love. But when you have heard all the circumstances

Lady Con. Depend upon it, you are wrong.I know the widow Bellmour. Her turn of character, and way of thinking

Mrs Love. Excuse me, madam. You decide without hearing me.

Lady Con. All scandal, take my word for it. However, let me hear your story. We'll adjourn to my dressing-room, if you will; and I promise to confute all you can say. I would have you know the widow Bellmour: you will be in love with her. My dear madam, have not you a tinge of jealousy? Beware of that malady. If you see things through that medium, I shall give you up.

That jaundice of the mind, whose colours strike
On friend and foe, and paint them all alike.

[Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I-An apartment at the WIDOW BELLMOUR'S: several chairs, a toilette, a book-case, and a harpsichord, disposed up and down.

Mig. Yes, madam; and there's your looks as elegant as hands can make it.

toilette

Mrs Bell. Does it? I think it does. You have some taste. Apropos, where is my new song? Oh! here it is! I must make myself mistress of it.-[Plays upon the harpsichord, and sings a little.]-I believe I have conquered it.--[Rises, and goes to her toilette.]-This hair is always tormenting me, always in disorder: this lock must be for ever gadding out of its place. I must, and will, subdue it. Do you know, Mignionet, that this is a pretty song? It was writ by my lord Etheridge. My lord has a turn-[Sings a little.]

MIGNIONET. Putting things in order. Mig. I DON'T well know what to make of this same lord Etheridge. He is coming here again to-day, I suppose: all this neatness, and all this care, must be for him. Well, it does not signify: -Arranging the chairs.]—there is a pleasure in obeying Madam Bellmour. She is a sweet lady, that's the truth of it. Twere a pity if any of these men, with their deceitful arts, should draw her into a snare. But she knows them all. They-I must be perfect before he comes.-[Hums must rise early who can outwit her.-[Settling the toilette.]

Enter MRS BELLMOUR, reading. 'Oh! blest with temper, whose unclouded ray 'Can make to-morrow cheerful as to-day! 'She, who can own a sister's charms, and hear Sighs for a daughter with unwounded ear; 'That never answers till a husband cools, 'And, if she rules him, never shews she rules.' Sensible, elegant Pope!

'Charms by accepting, by submitting sways, 'Yet has her humour most, when she obeys.' [Seems to read on Mig. Lord love my mistress! Always so charmmg, so gay, and so happy!

Mrs Bell. These exquisite characters of wo men! They are a sort of painter's gallery, where one sees the portraits of all one's acquaintance, and sometimes we see our own features, too.Mignionet, put this book in its place.

the tune.]-Do you know that I think my lord is
one of those men who may be endured?

Mig. Yes, madam; I know you think so.
Mrs Bell. Do you?

Mig. And if I have any skill, madam, you are not without a little partiality for his lordship.

Mrs Bell. Really? Then you think I like him, perhaps? Do you think I like him? I don't well know how that is. Like him? No, not absolutely: it is not decided: and yet I don't know, if I had a mind to humour myself, and to give way a little to inclination, there is something here in my heart that would be busy, I believe. The man has a softness of manner, a turn of wit, and does not want sentiment. Can I call it sentiment? Yes; I think I may. He has sentiment; and then he knows the manners, the usage of the world, and he points out the ridicule of things with so much humour!-

Mig. You'll be caught, madam, I see that. To be sure, my lord has a quality air, and can make himself agreeable. But what of that?

You know but very little of him. Is a man's character known in three or four weeks time? [MRS BELLMOUR hums a tune.]-Do, my dear madam, mind what I say: I am at times very considerate. I make my remarks, and I see very plainly-Lord, madam, what am I doing? I am talking to you for your own good, and you are all in the air, and no more mind me-no, no more than if I was nothing at all.

Mrs Bell. [Continues humming a tune.]-You talk wonderfully well upon the subject; but, as I know how the cards lie, and can play the best of the game; and as I have a song to amuse me, one is inclined to give musical nonsense the preference.

reach a chair.-[MRS LOVEMORE crosses the
stage, and they salute each other with an air of
distant civility.]

Mrs Love. I am afraid this visit from one who
has not the honour of knowing you-
Mrs Bell. Oh, make no apology, madam.—
Mignionet, you may withdraw.

[Exit MIGNIONET.
Mrs Love. It may appcar extraordinary, that
a stranger thus intrudes upon you; but a particu-
lar circumstance determined me to take this li-
berty. I hope you will excuse the freedom?
Mrs Bell. You do me honour, madam: pray,
no excuses. A particular circumstance, you
say?
Mrs Love. I shall appear, perhaps, very ridi-

most absurd thing! but a lady of your acquaintance- You know my lady Constant, madam ?

Mrs Bell. Extremely well.

Mig. I assure you, madam, I am not one of those servants, that bargain for their mistress's in-culous, and, indeed, I am afraid I have done the clinations but you are going to take a leap in the dark. What does my lord Etheridge mean, with his chair always brought into the hall, and the curtains close about his ears? Why does not he come like himself, and not care who sees him? There's some mystery at the bottom, I'll be sworn there is; and so you'll find at last. Dear heart, madam, if you are determined not to listen, what signifies my living with you? At this rate, I am of no service to you.

Mrs Love. She has given you such an amiable character for benevolence, and a certain elegant way of thinking, entirely your own, that I flatter myself, if it is in your power, you will be generous enough to afford me your assistance.

Mrs Bell. Lady Constant is very obliging.Make a trial of me, madam, and if I can be of any use

Mrs Bell. There; I have conquered my song. [Runs to her glass.]-How do I look to-day? Mrs Love. I fear I shall ask you a strange The eyes do well enough, I think. And so, Mig-question :—are you acquainted with a gentleman nionet, you imagine I shall play the fool, and of the name of Lovemore? marry my lord Etheridge?

Mig. You have it through the very heart of you I see that.

Mrs Bell. Do you? I don't know what to say to it. Poor sir Brilliant Fashion! If I prefer his rival, what will become of him? I won't think about it.

Enter POMPEY.

Mrs Bell. What's the matter, Pompey? Pom. A lady in a chair desires to know if your ladyship is at home.

Mrs Bell. Has the lady no name?

Pom. Yes; I fancy she has, madam; but she did not tell it.

Mrs Bell. Lovemore? No such name on my list. Lovemore? No: I recollect no such perThe circle of my acquaintance is small: I am almost a stranger in town.

son.

Mrs Love. That makes an end, madam. I beg your pardon, I have given you an unneces sary trouble. [Going.

Mrs Bell. [Aside.]-Mighty odd this! Her manner is interesting. You have given me no trouble; but my curiosity is excited.-[Takes her by the hand.]—I beg you will keep your chair.— Pray be seated. What can this mean?-[Aside.] -Will you be so good as to inform me who the gentleman is?

Mrs Love. The story will be uninteresting to

Mrs Bell. How awkward! Well, shew the la-you, and, to me, it is painful. My grievances— dy up stairs.

Mig. Had not you better receive her in the drawing-room, madam? I have not half done my business here?

[Puts her handkerchief to her eyes.]

Mrs Bell. [Aside.]-Her grief affects me.[Looks at her till she has recovered herself.]—I would not importune too much

Mrs Bell. Oh! You have done very well.- Mrs Love. You have such an air of frankness There will be less formality here. I dare say it and generosity, that I will open myself without is some intimate acquaintance, though that fool-reserve, I have the tenderest regard for Mr ish boy does not recollect her name. Here she I don't know her.

comes.

[blocks in formation]

Lovemore: I have been married to him these two years. I admired his understanding, his sensibility, and his spirit. My heart was his; I loved him with unbounded passion. I thought the flame was mutual, and you may believe I was happy. But, of late, there is such a revolution in his temper! I know not what to make of it. I am doomed to be unhappy.

Mrs Bell. Perhaps not: you may still have | ture, virtue embellished by the advantages of art, much in your power.

Mrs Love. My power is at an end. Instead of the looks of affection, and the expressions of tenderness, with which he used to meet me, it is nothing now but cold, averted, superficial civility; while abroad, he runs on in a wild career of pleasure, and, to my deep affliction, has attached himself entirely to another object.

Mrs Bell. And if I had known Mr Lovemore, do you imagine that my advice or persuasion would avail you any thing?

Mrs Love. I had such a fancy. [Aside.] What can I think of her!

Mrs Bell. You are much mistaken. In these cases, friends may interpose; but what can they do? They recommend a wife to the good will, the honour, and generosity of her husband. But when a woman, who should be esteemed and loved, is recommended as an object of compassion, she is humbled indeed: it is all over with her. A wife should recommend herself by the graces of her person, and the variety of her talents. Men will prove false; and, if there is nothing in your complaint, but mere gallantry on his side, I protest, I do not see that your case is so very bad. Mrs Love. Can it be worse, ma'am? Mrs Bell. A great deal. If his affections, instead of being alienated, had been extinguished, what would be the consequence?-A downright, sullen, habitual insensibility. From that lethargy of affection, a man is not easily recalled. In all Love's bill of mortality, there is not a more fatal disorder. But this is not the case with Mr Lovemore by your account, he still has sentiment; and, where there is sentiment, there is room to hope for an alteration. But where the heart has lost its feeling, you have the pain of finding yourself neglected; and for what? The man has grown stupid, and, to the warm beams of wit and beauty, as impenetrable as an ice-house.

Mrs Love. That is not my complaint. I have to do with one, who is too susceptible of impressions from every beautiful object that comes in

his way.

Mrs Bell. Why, so much the better. A new idea strikes his fancy. He is inconstant; but, after wavering and fluttering, he may settle at last. Mrs Love. How light she makes of it! she apologizes for him! [Aside. Mrs Bell. And, perhaps, the fault is on the woman's side

Mrs Love. The virtue of my conduct, madam

Mrs Bell. Oh! I would have laid my life you would be at that work. But virtue is not the question at present. I suppose virtue; that is always understood. The fault I mean, is the want of due attention to the art of pleasing. It is there that most women fail. In these times, virtue may be its own reward. Virtue alone cannot please the taste of the age. It is la belle na

that men expect now-a-days. That is the whole affair: I would not make myself uneasy, ma'am.

Mrs Love. Not uneasy, when his indifference does not diminish my regard for him! Not uneasy, when the man I dote upon, no longer fixes his happiness at home!

Mrs Bell. Give me leave to speak my mind freely. I have observed, when the fiend jealousy is roused, that women lay out a wonderful deal of anxiety and vexation to no account; when, perhaps, if the truth were known, they should be angry with themselves instead of their

husbands.

Mrs Love. Angry with myself, madam! Calumny can lay nothing to my charge. Mrs Bell. There again, now! that is the folly of us all.

Mrs Love. And after being married so long, and behaving all the time with such an equality! Mrs Bell. Ay, that equality is the rock so many split upon. The men will change. Excuse my freedom. They are so immersed in luxury, that they must have eternal variety in their happiness. [Aside.

Mrs Love. She justifies him!

Mrs Bell. Your case may not be desperate : I would venture to lay a pot of coffee, that the person, who now rivals you in your husband's affections, does it without your good qualities, and even without your beauty, by the mere force of agreeable talents, and some skill in the art of pleasing.

Mrs Love. I am afraid that compliment

Mrs Bell. If I judge right, you are entitled to Let me ask you: Do you know this formidable rival?

it.

Mrs Love. There, I own, I am puzzled.

Mrs Bell. What sort of woman is she? Mrs Love. Formidable indeed! She has been described to me as one of charming and rare accomplishments.

Mrs Bell. Never throw up the cards for all that. Take my advice, ma'am. You seem to have qualities that may dispute your husband's heart with any body; but the exertion of those amiable qualities, I fear, may be suppressed. Excuse my frankness. You should counteract your rival by the very arts which she employs against you. I know a lady now in your very situation: and what does she do? She consumes herself with unceasing jealousy; whereas, if she would exert but half the pains she uses in teasing herself, to vie with the person who has won her husband from her; to vie with her, I say, in the art of pleasing-for there it is a woman's pride should be piqued-Would she do that, take my word for it, victory would declare in her favour. You are not without attractions; give them their energy, and you conquer.

Mrs Love. Do you think so, maʼam ?

Mrs Bell. Think so! I am sure of it. You

Enter MIGNIONET.

[Rings a bell.

must exert yourself. It is the wife's business to | [A rap at the door.] Oh! Heavens! some troublebait the hook for her husband with variety. Vir- some visit. tue alone, by her own native charms, would do, if the men were perfect. But it is otherwise; and, since vice can assume allurements, why should not truth and innocence have additional ornaments also?

Mrs Bell. I am not at home. Go, and give

an answer.

Mig. It is lord Etheridge, ma'am: he is coming up stairs. The servants did not know you had changed your mind.

Mrs Bell. Was ever any thing so cross? Tell his lordship I have company; I am busy; I am not well; any thing; don't let him come in. Make haste, dispatch: I won't see him.

Mrs Love. I find sir Brilliant told me truth.
[Aside.
Mrs Bell. Give me leave, ma'am: I have been
married, and an a little in the secret. To win a
heart is easy; to keep it is the difficulty. After
the fatal words for better, for worse,' women
relax into indolence, and, while they are guilty of
no infidelity, they think every thing safe. But
they are mistaken: a great deal is wanting; an
address, a vivacity, a desire to please; the agree-grows
able contrast; the sense that pleases, the folly | lord.
that charms-A favourite poet, Prior, has ex-
pressed it with delicacy.

'Above the fixed and settled rules
'Of vice and virtue in the schools,
'The better part should set before 'em
A grace, a manner, a decorum.'

Mrs Love. But when the natural temper-
Mrs Bell. Oh! the natural temper must be
forced. Home must be made a place of plea-
sure to the husband. How is that to be done?
That equality, which you talk of, is a sameness
that palls and wearies. A wife should throw in-
finite variety into her manner. She should, as it
were, multiply herself, and be, as it were, sundry
different women, on different occasions. The ten-
der, the affectionate, the witty, the silent, all in
their turns, all shifting the scene, and she suc-
ceeding to herself as quick as lightning. And this
I take to be the whole mystery; the way to keep
a man. But I beg your pardon. I go on too
fast: you will think me the giddiest creature.

Mrs Love. Quite the reverse, ma'am; you are very obliging!

Mrs Love. I beg I may not hinder you: I shall take my leave. Mrs Bell. By no means. Our conversation interesting. I positively will not see my

Mrs Love. I can't agree to that. You must see his lordship. I can step into another room. Mrs Bell. Will you be so good? You will find something to amuse you in that cabinet. [Points to a door in the back scene.] We must talk farther. My lord shan't stay long.

Mrs Love. Nay, but if you stand upon cere

mony

Mrs Bell. Very well: I'll contrive it. This is a lover of mine. A lover and a husband are the same thing. Perhaps it will divert you to hear how I manage him. I hear him on the stairs. Make haste: Mignionet, shew the way.

[MRS LOVE. and MIG. go out at the back

scene.

Mrs Bell. Let me see how I look to receive
him.
[Runs to her glass.
Enter LOVEMORE, with a star and garter, as
LORD ETHERIDGE.

Love. A heavenly image in the glass appears,
To that she bends, to that her eyes she

[blocks in formation]

Mrs Bell. Repairs her smiles, my lord! You are satirical this morning. Pray, my lord, are my features out of repair, like an old house in the country, that wants a tenant?

Mrs Bell. I have tired myself and you, too.But pray, may I now inquire, who was so kind as to intimate that I am acquainted with Mr Lovemore? Love. Nay, now, you wrest my words from their Mrs Love. It was a mere mistake. I have gi-visible intention. You can't suppose that I imven you a great deal of trouble. You will excuse pute to such perfect beauty the least want of remy frankness: I had heard that his visits were pair, whatever may be the case, ma'am, with refrequent here. gard to the want of a tenant?

Mrs Bell. His visits frequent here! My lady Constant could not tell you so?

Mrs Love. She told me quite the contrary. She knows your amiable qualities, and does you justice.

Mrs Bell. The accident is lucky! it has procured me the honour of your acquaintance. And I suppose you imagined that I had robbed you of Mr Lovemore's heart?-Scandal will be buzzing about. I can laugh at every thing of that sort.

Mrs Bell. Oh! then your opinion is, that I want a tenant? And perhaps you think I am going to put up a bill to signify to all passers-by, that here is a mansion to be let, inquire of the widow Bellmour? I like your notion; I don't think it would be a bad scheme. Shall I try it?

Love. A palace needs no such invitation. Its natural beauty attracts admiring eyes. But who can bid up to the price? The person who is able to do it

« ÀÌÀü°è¼Ó »