Faulk. By heavens! Julia Jul. Yet bear me My father loved you, Faulkland! you preserved the life that tender paeat gave me. in his presence I pledged my hand -joyfully pledged it, where before I had given my heart When, soon after, I lost that parent, it seemed to me that Providence had, in Faulkland, shown me whether to transfer, without a pause, my gratified 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 will never barter it with another. I shall pray for your happiness with the truest sincerity; and the dearest blessing I 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 on this infirmity; and, when you number up the many 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. [Erit. Faulk. She's gone!-for ever!- There was an awful resolution in her manner that rivetted 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 hasten to my appointment. Well, my mind is turned 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 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. 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 mere Smithfield bargain of at last ?There bad I planned one of the most sentimental elopements! so becoming a disguise! so amiable a ladder of ropes! conscious moonfour horses-Scotch parson-with such surprise to Mrs. Malaprop! and such paragraphs in the newspapers!-Oh, I shall die with disappointment! Jul. I don't wonder at it. Lyd. Now-sad reverse!-what have I to ex. pect, 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 stole 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!-be shivering with cold, and I with apprehension!—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 could 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. [Mrs. MALAPROP speaks within. 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! Jul. For Heav'n's sake, madam, what is the matter? 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! [Exit. Mrs. M. Why, murder's the matter! slaughter's Lyd. Heigho! Though he has used me so, this the matter! killing's the matter! But he can tell fellow runs strangely in my head. I believe one lec-you the perpendiculars. [Pointing to David. ture from my grave cousin will make me recall him. Jul. Do speak, my friend. [TO DAVID Dav. Lookye, my lady-by the mass, there' mischief going on. Folks don't use meet for amus ment with fire-arms, fire-locks, fire engines, fire screens, fire-office, and the devil knows what other crackers beside !-This, my lady, I say, has an angry favour. Enter JULIA. 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. 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. Jul. But who's 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, Squire Acres-and Captain Absolute. Then comes Squire Faulkland. Jul. Do, ma'am, let us instantly endeavour to prevent mischief. 1 1 Mrs. M. Oh, fie! it would be very inelegant in us-we should only participate things. Lyd. Do, my dear aunt, let us hasten to prevent Sir L. Ah, that's a pity; there's nothing like being used to a thing. Pray, now, how would you receive the gentleman's shot? them. Acres. Odds files! I've practised that-there. Dav. Ah, do, Mrs. Aunt, save a few lives!-Sir Lucius, there-[Puts himself into an attitude]they are desperately given, believe me. Above all, a side-front, hey? Odd, I'll make myself small there is that blood-thirsty Philistine, Sir Lucius enough; I'll stand edgeways. O'Trigger. Mrs. M. Sir Lucius O'Trigger!-Oh, 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? Sir L. Now, you're quite out; for if you stand so when I take my aim- [Levelling at him. Acres. Z-ds, Sir Lucius, are you sure it is not cocked? Sir L. Never fear. 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 misses a vital part on your right side, 'twill be very hard if it don't succeed on the left. Acres. A vital part! 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 en-it voy, lead the way, and we'll precede. You're sure you know the spot. Dav. Oh, never fear! and one good thing is, we shall find it out by the report of the pistols. All the Ladics. The pistols! Oh, let us fly. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-King's Mead-Fields. Enter Sir LUCIUS and ACRES, with pistols. Acres. By my valour, then, Sir Lucius, forty yards is a good distance. Odds 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, now, that is a very pretty distance-a pretty gentleman's distance. Acres. Z-ds! 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. Odds 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 ong 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 matters. Acres. A quietus! Sir L. For instance, now, if that should be the case, would you choose to be pickled and sent home? or would it be the same thing to you to ie here in the Abbey? I'm told there is very snug lying in the Abbey. Sir L. But there-fix yourself so-[Placing him]-let him see the broadside of your full frontthere now a ball or two may pass clean through your body, and never do you any harm at all. Acres. Cleau through me! a ball or two clean through me! Sir L. Ay, may they; and it is much the genteelest attitude into 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-hah!-no faith-I think I see them coming. Acres. Hey!-what!-coming! Sir L. Ay, who are those coming yonder, getting over the stile? Acres. There are two of them, indeed!—well, let them come-hey, Sir Lucius !-we-we-we we-won't run! Sir L. 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. Acres. 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-hah !— what, Captain Absolute! So, I suppose, sir, you are come here, just like myself-to do a kind office, first for your friend, then to proceed to business Acres. Pickled!-Snug lying in the Abbey !-on your own account? Odds tremors! Sir Lucius, don't talk so! Acres. What, Jack !-my dear Jack !—my dear Sir L. I suppose, Mr. Acres, you never were friend! engaged in an affair of this kind before? Acres. No, Sir Lucius, never before. Capt. A. Harkye, Bob, Beverley's at hand. SCENE II.] ACTING DRAMA. bim? saluting the gentleman civilly. So, Mr. Beverley, the lady without forcing von to proceed against Acres. Odds 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 Mr. Acres? Faulk. Not I, upon my word, sir! Sir L. Well, now, that's mighty provoking! But I hope, Mr. Faulkland, as there are three of us come on purpose for the game--you won't be so cantanckerous as to spoil the party, by sitting out. Capt. A. Oh pray, Faulkland, fight to oblige Sir Lucius. Faulk. Nay, if Mr. Acres is so bent on the matter. 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. Dav. 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 gentleman can tell you better than I; 'twas he called on me, and you know, sir, I serve his majesty. Sir Anth. Here's a pretty fellow! I catch him going to cut a man's throat, and he tells me he serves his majesty! Z-ds! sirrah, then how durst you draw the king's sword against one of his subjects? Capt. A. Sir, I tell you, that gentleman called me out, without explaining his reasons. Sir Anth. 'Gad, sir! how came you to call my son out, without explaining your reasons? Sir L. Your son, sir, insulted me in a manner which my honour could not brook. 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 trified 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 If he were here, I'd dare not show his face! Mrs. M. Come, come, let's have no honour bemake him give up his pretensions directly! Capt. A. Hold, Bob-let me set you right-fore ladies-Captain Absolute, come here-How there is no such man as Beverley in the case. The could you intimate us so? Here's Lydia has been person who assumed that name is before you; and terrified to death for you. as his pretensions are the same in both characters, he is ready to support them in whatever way you please. Sir L. Weil, this is lucky. Now you have an opportunity Acres. What, quarrel with my dear friend, Jack Absolute !-not if he were fifty Beverleys! Z-ds! Sir Lucius, you would not have me so unnatural ! Sir L. Upon my conscience, Mr. Acres, your valour has oozed away with a vengeance! Acres. Not in the least! odds 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 any thing of the kind, with the greatest pleasure. Sir L. Pho! pho! you are little better than a coward. Acres. Mind, gentlemen, he calls me a coward; coward was the word, by my valour ! Sir L. Well, sir? Sir Anth. Z-ds, Jack! how durst you insult the gentleman in a manner which his honour could not brook? Capt. A. For fear I should be killed, or escape ma'am? Mrs. M. Nay, no delusions to the past-Lydia is convinced: speak, child. Sir L. With your leave, ma'am, I must put in a word here. I believe I could interpret the young lady's silence. Now mark— Lyd. What is it you mean, sir? Sir L. Come, come, Dalia, we must be serious now; this is no time for trifling. Lyd. 'Tis true, sir; and your reproof bids me offer this gentleman my hand, and solicit the retura of his affections. Capt. A. Oh, my little angel, say you so? Sir Lucius, I perceive there must be some mistake here. With regard to the affront which you affirm I have given you, I can only say that it could not have been intentional; and as you must be convinced, that I should not fear to suppert a real injury, you shall now see that I am not ashamed to atone for an inadvertency-I ask your pardon. But for this lady, while honoured with her approbation, I will support my claim against any man Acres. Lookye, Sir Lucius, 'tisn't that I mind the word coward-Coward may be said in a joke-whatever. But if you had called me a poltroon, odds daggers and balls Sir L. Well, sir? Acres. I should have thought you a very ill-bred man. Sir Anth. Well said, Jack; and I'll stand by you, my boy. Acres. Mind, I give up all my claim-I make no pretensions to any thing in the world; and if I can't get a wife without fighting for her, by my valour! I'll live a bachelor. Sir L. Pho! you are beneath my notice. Sir L. Captain, give me your hand-an affront Capt. A. Nay, Sir Lucius, you can't have a better second than my friend Acres. He is a most handsomely acknowledged becomes an obligation; [Takes out letters. determined dog-called in the country, fighting and as for the lady, if she chooses to deny her own Bob. He generally kills a man a week-don't hand-writing, hereMrs. M. Oh, he will dissolve my mystery! Sir Perhaps you, Bob? Sir L. Well, then, captain, 'tis we must begin-Lucius, perhaps there is some mistake. so come out, my little counsellor [Draws his sword], I can illuminateand ask the gentleman, whether he will resign| Sir L. Pray, old gentlewoman, don't interfere where you have no business. Miss Languish, are been quarrelling too, 1 warrant.-Come, Julia, I you my Dalia, or not? Lyd. Indeed, Sir Lucius, I am not! [LYDIA and ABSOLUTE walk aside. Mrs. M. Sir Lucius O'Trigger-ungrateful as you are-I own the soft impeachment-pardon my camelion blushes, I am Delia. never interfered before; but let me have a hand in the matter at last.-All the faults I have ever seen in my friend Faulkland, seemed to proceed from what he calls the delicacy and warmth of his affection for you.-There, marry him directly, Julia; you'll find he'll mend surprisingly. Sir L. You Dalia!-pho! pho! be asy. [The rest of the characters come forward. Mrs. M. Why, thou barbarous Vandyke—those Sir L. Come now, I hope there is no dissatisfied letters are mine. When you are more sensible of person but what is content; for as I have been dismy benignity, perhaps I may be brought to en-appointed myself, it will be very hard if I have courage your addresses. not the satisfaction of seeing other people succeed better. to you. Sir L. Mrs. Malaprop, I am extremely sensible of your condescension: and whether you or Lucy have put this trick upon me, I am equally beholden And to show you I am not ungrateful, Captain Absolute, since you have taken that lady from me, I'll give you my Dalia into the bargain. Capt. A. I am much obliged to you, Sir Lucius; but here's my friend, fighting Bob, unprovided for. Sir L. Hah! little valour-bere, will you make your fortune? Acres. Odds wrinkles! No.-But give me your hand, Sir Lucius; forget and forgive but if ever I give you a chance of pickling me again, say Bob Acres is a dunce, that's all. Sir Anth. Come, Mrs. Malaprop, don't be cast down-you are in your bloom yet. Mrs. M. O, Sir Anthony! men are all barbarians? [All retire but JULIA and FAULKLAND. Jul. He seems dejected and unhappy-not sullen-there was some foundation, however, for the tale he told me-O woman! how true should be your judgment, when your resolution is so weak! Faulk. Julia!-how can I sue for what I so little deserve? I dare not presume-yet hope is the child of penitence. Jul. Oh! Faulkland, you have not been more faulty in your unkind treatment of me, than I am now in wanting inclination to resent it. As my heart honestly bids me place my weakness to the account of love, I should be ungenerous not to admit the same plea for yours. [Sir ANTHONY comes forward between them. Faulk. Now I shall be blest, indeed. Sir Anth. What's going on here?-So you have Acres. You are right, Sir Lucius-So, Jack, I wish you joy.-Mr. Faulkland the same.-Ladies, -come now, to show you I'm neither vexed nor angry, odds tabors and pipes! I'll order the fiddles in half an hour to the New Rooms-and I insist on your all meeting me there. Sir A. 'Gad! sir, I like your spirit; and at night we single lads will drink a health to the young couples, and a good husband to Mrs. Malaprop. Faulk. Our partners are stolen from us, Jack-I hope to be congratulated by each other-yours for having checked in time the errors of an ill-directed imagination, which might have betrayed an innocent heart; and mine for having by her gentleness and candour reformed the unhappy temper of oue, who by it made wretched whom he loved most, and tortured the heart he ought to have adored. Capt. A. True, Faulkland, we have both tastedthe bitters, as well as the sweets, of love-with this difference only, that you always prepared the bitter cup for yourself, while I- Lyd. Was always obliged to me for it, hey, Mr. Modesty?-But come, no more of that—our happiness is now as unalloyed as general. Jul. Then let us study to preserve it so; and while hope pictures to us a flattering scene of future bliss, let us deny its pencil those colours which are too bright to be lasting.-When hearts deserving happiness would unite their fortunes, virtue would crown them with an unfading garland of modest, hurtless flowers; but ill-judging passion will force the gaudier rose into the wreath, whose thorn offends them when its leaves are dropt! A TRIP TO SCARBOROUGH. A COMEDY. BY RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN, Author of "The School for Scandal," &c. PERSONS REPRESENTED. SCENE I-A Room in an Inn. Enter YOUNG FASHION and LORY, Postilion following with a portmanteau. Young F. Lory, pay the post-boy, and take the portmanteau. Lory. Faith, sir, we had better let the post-boy take the portmanteau and pay himself. Young F. Why, sure there's something left in it. Lory. Not a rag, upon my honour, sir-we eat the last of your wardrobe at New Malton--and, if we had twenty miles farther to go, our next meal must have been of the cloak-bag. Young F. Why, 'sdeath! it appears full. Lory. Yes, sir; I made bold to stuff it with hay, to save appearances, and look like baggage. Young F. What the devil shall I do?-harkee, boy, what's the chaise? Pos. Thirteen shillings, please your honour. Young F. Can you give me change for a guinea? Pos. O yes, sir. Lery. Sob, what will he do now ?-Lord, sir, you had better let the boy be paid below. Young F. Why, as you say, Lory, I believe it will be as well. Lory. Yes, yes; I'll tell them to discharge you below, honest friend. Pos. Please your honour, there are the turnpikes, too. Young F. Ay, ay, the turnpikes, by all means. Pos. And I hope your honour will order me something for myself. Young F. To be sure; bid them give you a crown. Lory. Yes, yes-my master doesn't care what you charge them-so get along, you- Pos. And there's the ostler, your honour. Lory. Psha! damn the ostler-would you impose upon the gentleman's generosity? [Pushes him out.] A rascal, to be so cursed ready with his change! Young F. Why, faith! Lory, he had nearly pos'd me. Lory. Well, sir, we are arrived at Scarborough not worth a guinea. I hope you'll own yourself a happy man-you have outlived all your cares. Young F. How so, sir! of. Lory. Why, you have nothing left to take care Young F. Yes, sirrah, I have myself and you to take care of still. Lory. Sir, if you could prevail with somebody else to do that for you, I fancy we might both fare the better for it. But now, sir, for my Lord Foppington, your elder brother. Young F. Damn my eldest brother. Lory. With all my heart; but get him to redeem your annuity, however. Look you, sir, you must wheedle him, or you must starve. Young F. Look you, sir, I will neither wheedle him nor starve. Lory. Why, what will you do, then? Young F. Cut his throat, or get some one to do it for me. Lory. 'Gad so, sir, I'm glad to find I was not so well acquainted with the strength of your conscience as with the weakness of your purse. Young F. Why, art thou so impenetrable a blockhead as to believe he'll help me to a farthing! Lory. Not if you treat him de haut en bas, as you used to dc. Young F. Why, how wouldst thou have me treat him? Lory. Like a trout-tickle him. |