Sey. Sir, I'll wait on him. Char. A pretty, well-bred fellow, that. Sir J. Ay, ay; but he has better qualities than his good breeding. Char. He's always clean too. Lady L. And a wife is much more secure that has charms for her husband, than when the husband bas only charms for her. Sir J. Admirable go on, my dear. Lady L. Do you think a woman of five and twenty may not be much happier with an honest man of fifty, than the finest woman of fifty with a young fellow of five and twenty? Sir J. Mark that! Char. Ay, but when two five and twenties Sir J. I wonder, daughter, when you will come together-dear papa, you must allow they take notice of a man's real merit. Humph-have a chance to be fifty times as pleasant and well bred and clean, forsooth. Would not one frolicsome. think now she was describing a coxcomb? When do you hear my wife talk at this rate? and yet she is as young as your fantastical ladyship. Lady L. Charlotte is of a cheerful temper, my dear; but I know you don't think she wants discretion. Sir J. I shall try that presently; and you, my dear, shall judge between us. In short, daughter, your course of life is but one continued round of playing the fool to no purpose; and therefore I am resolved to make you think seriously, and marry. Char. That I shall do before I marry, Sir, you may depend upon it. Sir J. Um-That I am not so sure of; but you may depend upon my having thought seriously, and that's as well; for the person I intend you is, of all the world, the only man who can make you truly happy. Chur. And, of all the world, Sir, that's the only man I'll positively marry. Lady L. You have rare courage, Charlotte; if I had such a game to play, I should be frightened out of my wits. Sir J. Frolicsome! Why, you sensual idiot, what have frolics to do with solid happiness? I am ashamed of you.-Go, you talk worse than a girl at a boarding-school.-Frolicsome! as if marriage was only a license for two people to play the fool according to law. Methinks, Madam, you have a better example of happiness before your face.-Here's one has ten times your understanding, and she, you find, has made a different choice. Char. Lord, Sir, how you talk ! you don't consider people's tempers. I don't say my lady is not in the right; but then you know, she becomes her character very well, I don't papa, she's a prude, and I am a coquette; deny it; and I hope you see every thing I do, is as consistent with mine.-Your wise people may talk what they will, but 'tis constitution governs us all; and be assured, you will no more be able to bring me to endure a man of forty nine, than you can persuade my lady to dance in church to the organ. Sir J. O horrible! My poor sister has ruined her leaving her fortune in her own Char. Lord! Madam, he'll make nothing of hands, has turned her brain. In short, it, depend upon it. [ Aside. | Charlotte, your sentiments of life are shame. Sir J. Mind what I say to you. This won- ful, and I am resolved upon your instant reforderful man, I say-first, in his public char- mation : therefore, as an earnest of your obeacter, is religious, zealous, and charitable. dience, I shall first insist that you never see Char. Very well, Sir. young Darnley more; for, in one word, the good and pious doctor Cantwell's the man I have decreed for your husband. Sir J. In his private character, sober. Char. I should hate a sot. Sir J. Chaste. Char. A hem! [Stifling a laugh. Sir J. What is it you sneer at, Madam? You want one of your fine gentlemen rakes, I suppose, that are snapping at every woman they meet with. Char. No, no, Sir; I am very well satisfied. -I-I should not care for such a sort of a man, no more than I should for one that every woman was ready to snap at. Sir J. No, you'll be secure from jealousy; he has experience, ripeness of years-he is almost forty-nine. Your sex's vanity will have no charms for him. Char. But all this while, Sir, I don't find that he has charms for our sex's vanity. How does he look? Is he tall, well made? Does he dress, sing, talk, laugh, and dance well? Has he good hair, good teeth, fine eyes? Does he keep a chaise, coach, and vis-a-vis? Has he six prancing ponies? Does he wear prince's uniform, and subscribe to Brookes's ? Sir J. Was there ever so profligate a creature ? What will this age come to ? the Lady L. Nay, Charlotte, here I must be against you. Now you are blind indeed. A woman's happiness has little to do with the pleasure her husband takes in his own person. Sir J. Right. Lady L. It is not how he looks, but how he loves, is the point. Sir J. Good again. Char. Ho, ho, ho! becomes you, but I shall spoil your mirth-no Sir J. "Tis very well; this laugh you think more-give me a serious answer. Char. I ask your pardon, Sir; I should not have smiled indeed, could I suppose it pos. sible that you were serious. Sir J. You'll find me so. Char. I'm sorry for it; but I have an objeca substantial one. tion to the doctor, Sir, that most fathers think Sir J. Name it. Char. Why, Sir, we know nothing of his fortune; he's not worth a groat. I am able to give him a better estate than Í Sir J. That's more than you know, Madam; am afraid you'll deserve. Char. How, Sir? shall leave you to think on't. Sir J. I have told you what's my will, and Char. O Madam! I am at my wit's end; not for the little fortune I may lose in disobeying my father, but it startles me to find what a dangerous influence this fellow has over all his actions. Lady L. Here's your brother. Enter COLONEL LAMBERT. Col. L. Madam, your most obedientWell, sister, is the secret out? Who is this pretty fellow my father has picked up for you? Char. Even our agreeable doctor. Lady L. He is the very man, I can assure you, Sir. Old Lady L. No; don't be afraid: only in my way from Tottenham-court, I just called to see whether any dreadful accident happened to the family since I was here last. Lady L. Accident! did your ladyship say? Old Lady L. I shall be sorry, daughter, but not surprised, when I hear it; for there are goings on under this roof, that will bring temporal punishments along with them. Lady L. Indeed, Madam, you astonish me! Old Lady L. We'll drop the subject; and I beg leave to address myself to you, Miss Charlotte; I see you have a bit of lace upon your neck; I desire to know what you wear it for. Char. Wear it for, Madam! it's the fashion. Col. L. Confusion! what, would the cor- Old Lady L. In short, I have been at my morant devour the whole family? Your lady-linen draper's to-day, and have bought you ship knows he is secretly in love with you too. Lady L. Fy, fy, colonel. Col. L. I ask your pardon, Madam, if I speak too freely; but I am sure, by what I have seen, your ladyship must suspect something of it. Lady L. I am sorry any body else has seen it; but I must own, his behaviour to me of late, both in private and before company, has been something warmer than I thought became him. some thick muslin, which 1 desire you will make handkerchiefs of-for I must tell you that slight covering is indecent, and gives much offence. Lady L. Indecent, did your ladyship say? Old Lady L. Yes, daughter-in-law, doctor Cantwell complains to me that he can't sit at table, the sight of her bare neck disturbs him so; and he's a good man, and knows what indecency is. Char. Yes, indeed, I believe he does, better Col. L. How are these opposites to be re-than any one in this house. But you may tell conciled? Can the rascal have the assurance the doctor from me, Madam, that he is an imto think both points are to be carried? pudent coxcomb, a puppy, and deserves to Char. Truly, one would not suspect the gen-have his bones broke. tleman to be so termagant. Col. L. Especially while he pretends to be so shocked at all indecent amours. In the country he used to make the maids lock up the turkey-cocks every Saturday night, for fear they should gallant the hens on a Sunday. Lady L. Oh! ridiculous! Col. L. Upon my life, Madam, my sister told Col. L. What do you mean? Lady L. "Tis too true; 'tis not three minutes since he said so. Col. L. Nay then, 'tis time indeed his eyes were opened; and give me leave to say, Madam, 'tis only in your power. Lady L. What is't you propose? Col. L. Why, if this fellow, which I'm sure of, is really in love with you, give him a fair opportunity to declare it, and leave me to make my advantage. Lady L. I should be loath to do a wrong thing Char. Dear Madam, it is the only way in the world to expose him to my father. Lady L. I'll think of it. Col. L Pray do, Madam; but in the mean time I must leave you-poor Darnley stays for me at the Smyrna, and will sit upon thorns till I bring him an account of his new rival. Char. Well, well, get you gone then; here is my grandmother. [Exit COLONEL LAMBERT. Enter old LADY LAMBERT. Old Lady L. Fy, Charlotte, fy! He speaks but for your good, and this is the grateful return you make. Char. Grateful return, Madam!-how can you be so partial to that hypocrite?—The doctor is one of those who start at a feather.Poor good man! yet he has his vices of the graver sort Old Lady L. Come, come; I wish you would follow his precept, whose practice is conformable to what he teaches.-Virtuous man!Above all sensual regards, he considers the world merely as a collection of dirt and pebble-stones.-How has he weaned me from temporal connections! My heart is now set upon nothing sublunary: and, I thank Heaven, I am so insensible to every thing in this vain world, that I could see you, my son, my daughters, my brothers, my grandchildren, afl expire before me; and mind it no more than the going out of so many snuffs of candle. Char. Upon my word, Madam, it is a very humane disposition you have been able to arrive at, and your family is much obliged to the doctor for his instructions. Old Lady L. Well, child, I have nothing more to say to you at present; Heaven mend you, that's all. Lady L. But pray, Madam, stay and dine with us. Old Lady L. No, daughter, I have said it, and you know I never tell a lie; but here's my son, if you'll give me leave, I'll stay and speak to him. Lady L. Your ladyship's time is your own. Char. Ay, here's that abominable doctor.This fellow puts me beyond my patience. [Exit LADY L. and CHAR. Enter SIR JOHN LAMBERT and DOCTOR Sir J. Oh, Madam, Madam! I'm glad you're Lady L. This is kind, Madam; I hope your here to join me in solicitations to the doctor.ladyship's come to dine with us. Here is my mother, friend, my mother; a pious woman; you will hear her, more worthy to advise you than I am. Dr. C. Alas! the dear good lady, I will kiss her hand!-but what advice can she give me? The riches of this world, Sir, have no charms for me; I am not dazzled with their false glare; and was I, I repeat it, to accept of the trust you want to repose in me, Heaven knows, it would only be lest the means should fall into wicked hands, who would not lay it out as I would do, for the glory of Heaven, and the good of my neighbour. Old Lady L. What's the matter, son? Dr. C. "Nothing, Madam; nothing.-But you were witness how the worthy colonel treated me this morning-Not that I speak it on my own account-for to be reviled is my portion. Sir J. O the villain! the villain! Dr. C. Indeed, I did not think he had so hard a nature. Sir J. Suppose we were to get my wife to speak to her; women will often hear, from their own sex, what sometimes, even from the man they like, will startle them. Dr. C. Then, with your permission, Sir, I will take an opportunity of talking to my lady. Sir. J. She's now in her dressing-room; I'll go and prepare her for it. [Exit. Dr. C. You are too good to me, Sir-too bountiful. Enter SEYWARD. Sey. Sir, Mr. Mawworm is without, and would be glad to be permitted to speak with you. Old Lady L. Oh pray, doctor, admit him; I have not seen Mr. Mawworm this great while; he's a pious man, though in an humble estate; desire the worthy creature to walk in. Enter MAWWORM. Old Lady L. Ah! your charitable heart-How do you do, Mr. Mawworm? knows not the rancour that is in his.-His wicked sister too, has been here this moment, abusing this good man. Dr. C. O Sir, 'tis plain; 'tis plain; your whole family are in a combination against me -your son and daughter hate me; they think I stand between them and your favour and indeed it is not fit I should do so; for, fallen as they are, they are still your children, and I an alien, an intruder, who ought in conscience to retire and heal those unhappy breaches. Old Lady L. See; if the good man does not wipe his eyes! Dr. C. Oh Heavens! the thought of their ingratitude wounds me to the quick-but I'll remove this eye-sore-here, Charles! Enter SEYWARD. Sir J. For goodness' sake Dr. C. Bring me that writing, I gave you to lay up this morning. Sir J. Make haste, good Charles; it shall be signed this moment. [Exit SEYWARD. Dr. C. Not for the world, Sir John-every minute tends to corroborate my last intentions -I must not, will not take it, with the curses of your children. Sir J. But consider, doctor-shall my wicked son then be heir to my lands, before repentance has entitled him to favour-No, let him depend upon you, whom he has wronged; perhaps, in time he may reflect on his father's justice, and be reconciled to your rewarded virtues. If Heaven should at last reclaim him, in you I know he still would find a fond, forgiving father. Dr. C. The imagination of so blessed an hour, softens me to a tenderness I cannot support! Old Lady L. Oh! the dear good man. Sir J. With regard to my daughter, doctor, you know she is not wronged by it; because, if she proves not obstinate, she may still be happy. Old Lady L. Yes, but the perverse wretch slights the blessing you propose for her. Dr. C. We must allow, Madam, female modesty a time, which often takes the likeness of distress: the commands of your good son might too suddenly surprise her-Maids must be gently dealt with-and might I humbly ad vise Sir J. Any thing you will: you shall govern me and her. Dr. C. Then, Sir, abate of your authority, and let the matter rest awhile. Maw. Thank your ladyship's axing-I'm but deadly poorish indeed; the world and I can't Grunt bid me give her service to you, and agree I got the books, doctor and Mrs. thanks you for the eighteen-pence. Dr. C. Hush, friend Mawworm! not a word more; you know I hate to have my little charities blazed about: a poor widow, Madam, to whom I sent my mite. Old Lady L. Give her this. [Offers a purse to MAW. Dr. C. I'll take care it shall be given to her. [Takes it. you, Mr. Mawworm? Old Lady L. But what is the matter with Maw. I don't know what's the matter with me-I'm a breaking my heart-I think it's a sin to keep a shop. Old Lady L. Why if you think it a sin, indeed-pray what's your business? Maw. We deals in grocery, tea, small-beer, charcoal, butter, brickdust, and the like. Old Lady L. Well, you must consult with your friendly director here. Maw. I wants to go a preaching. Maw. I'm almost sure I have had a call. Maw. I have made several sermons already; I does them extrumpery, because, I can't write; and now the devils in our alley says, as how my head's turned. you mind them. Maw. No, I don't-I rebukes them, and We lets our house in lodgings to single men ; preaches to them, whether they will or not. and sometimes I gets them together, with one or two of the neighbours, and makes them all cry. Old Lady L. Did you ever preach in public? Maw. I got upon Kennington-common, the last review day; but the boys threw brickbats at me, and pinned crackers to my tail; and I have been afraid to mount ever since. brickbats at him, and pin crackers to his tail! Old Lady L. Do you hear this, doctor? throw can these things be stood by ? Maw. I told them so-says I, I does nothing clandecently; I stands here contagious to his majesty's guards, and I charge you upon your apparels not to mislist me. Old Lady L. And had it no effect? Maw. No more than if I spoke to so many postesses: but if he advises me to go a preach ing, and quit my shop, I'll make an excressance further into the country. Old Lady L. An excursion, you would say. Maw. I am but a sheep, but my bleatings shall be heard afar off; and that sheep shall become a shepherd: nay, if it be only as it were a shepherd's dog, to bark the stray lambs into the fold. Old Lady L. He wants method, doctor. Dr. C. Yes, Madam; but there is the matter, and I despise not the ignorant. Maw. He's a saint-till I went after him, I was little better than the devil; my conscience was tanned with sin, like a piece of neat's leather, and had no more feeling than the sole of my shoe; always a roving after fantastical delights: I used to go, every Sunday evening, to the Three Hats at Islington! it's a public-house! may hap, your ladyship may know it: I was a great lover of skittles too, but now I can't bear them. Old Lady L. What a blessed reformation! Maw. I believe, doctor, you never know'd as how I was instigated one of the stewards of the reforming society. I convicted a man of five oaths, as last Thursday was a se'nnight, at the Pewter-platter, in the Borough; and another of three, while he was playing trapball in St. George's-fields: I bought this waistcoat out of my share of the money. Old Lady L. But how do you mind your business? Maw. We have lost almost all our customers; because I keeps extorting them whenever they come into the shop. Old Lady L. And how do you live? Maw. Better than ever we did: while we were worldly-minded, my wife and I (for I am married to as likely a woman as you shall see in a thousand) could hardly make things do at all; but since this good man has brought us into the road of the righteous, we have always plenty of every thing; and my wife goes as well dressed as a gentlewoman-we have had a child too. Old Lady L. Merciful! Maw. And between you and me, doctor, I believe Susy's breeding again. Dr. C. Thus it is, Madam; I am constantly told, though I can hardly believe it, a blessing follows wherever I come. Maw. And yet, if you would hear how the neighbours reviles my wife; saying as how she sets no store by me, because we have words now and then; but as I says, if such was the case, would ever she have cut me down that there time as I was melancholy, and she found me hanging behind the door; I don't believe there's a wife in the parish would have done so by her husband. Dr. C. I believe 'tis near dinner-time; and Sir John will require my attendance. Maw. Oh! I am troublesome-nay, I only come to you, doctor, with a message from Mrs. Grunt. I wish your ladyship heartily and heartily farewell; doctor, a good day to you. Old Lady L. Mr. Mawworm, call on me some time this afternoon; I want to have a little private discourse with you; and, pray, my service to your spouse. Maw. I will, Madam; you are a malefactor to all goodness; I'll wait upon your ladyship; I will indeed: [Going, returns.] Oh, doctor, that's true; Susy desired me to give her kind love and respects to you. [Exit. Dr. C. Madam, if you please, I will lead you into the parlour. Old Lady L. No, doctor, my coach waits at the door. Enter SEYWARD. Dr. C. Charles, you may lay those papers by again, but in some place where you'll eastly find them; for believe we shall have occasion for them some time this afternoon. Sey. I'll take care, Sir. [Exit DR. CANT. and old LADY LAMBERT.]-Occasion for them this afternoon !-Then there's no time to be lost; the coast is clear, and this is her chamber.-What's the matter with me? the thought of speaking to her throws me into a disorder. There's nobody within; I'll knock again. Enter BETTY. Bet. She's here.-Mr. Seyward, Madam, desires to speak with you. Char. Oh, your servant, Mr. Seyward.Here, take this odious Homer, and lay him up again; he tires me.-[Exit BETTY.]-HOW could the blind wretch make such an horrid fuss about a fine woman, for so many volumes together, and give us no account of her amours? you have read him, I suppose, in the Greek, Mr. Seyward? Sey. Not lately, Madam. Char. But do you so violently admire him two? Sey. Not easily, Madam. Chur. They tell me, it has the softest tone for love of any language in the world-I fancy I could soon learn it. I know two words of it already. Sey. Pray, Madam, what are they? Char. Stay-let me see-Oh-ay-Zoe kai psuche. Sey. I hope you know the English of them, Madam. Char. Oh lud! I hope there is no harm in it -I'm sure I heard the doctor say it to my lady-pray, what is it? Sey. You must first imagine, Madam, a tender lover gazing on his mistress; and then indeed they have a softness in them; as thusZoe kai psuche !-my life! my soul! Char. Oh the impudent young rogue! how his eyes spoke too! what the deuce can he want with me! [Aside. Sey. I have startled her!-she muses! [Aside. Char. It always run in my head that this fellow had something in him above his condition; I'll know immediately. [Aside.] Well, but your business with me, Mr. Seyward? you Sey. He's no uncle of mine, Madam. Char. Lord! I am concerned for you. all. Char. I am already; but if there are any further particulars of your story, pray let me hear them; and should any services be in my power, I am sure you may command them. that your generous inclination would be a consolation to me in the worst misfortunes; and, even in the last moment of painful death, would give my heart a joy. Char. Lord! the poor unfortunate boy loves me too-what shall I do with him? [Aside.]Pray, Mr. Sey ward, what paper's that you have in your hand ?-Is it relative to Sey. Another instance of the conscience and gratitude which animate our worthy doctor. Char. You frighten me! pray, what is the purport of it? Is it neither signed nor sealed? Sey. No, Madam; therefore to prevent it, by this timely notice, was my business here with you; your father gave it to the doctor first, to show his counsel; who having approved it, I understand this evening it will be executed. Char. But what is it? Scy. It grants to doctor Cantwell, in present, four hundred pounds per annum, of which this very house is part; and, at your father's death, invests him in the whole remainder of his freehold estate. For you, indeed, there is a charge Sey. You treat me with so kind, so gentle a of four thousand pounds upon it, provided you hand, that I will unbosom myself to you.-My marry with the doctor's consent; if not, 'tis father, Madam, was the younger branch of a added to my lady's jointure-But your brother, genteel family in the north; his name True-Madam, is, without conditions, utterly disin man-but dying while I was yet in my in-herited." fancy, I was left wholly dependant on my Char. I am confounded!-What will bemother; a woman really pious and well-mean- come of us! my father now I find was serious ing, but-In short, Madam, doctor Cantwell -Oh, this insinuating hypocrite!-Let me see fatally got acquainted with her, and as he is-ay-I will go this minute. Sir, dare you now your father's bosom counsellor, soon be- trust this in my hands for an hour only? came hers. She died, Madam, when I was but eight years old; and then I was, indeed, left an orphan. Char. Melancholy! Sey. She left doctor Cantwell her sole heir and executor; but I must do her the justice to say, I believe it was in the confirmation that he would take care of, and do justice to me: and, indeed, he has so far taken care of me, that he sent me to a seminary abroad; and for these three years last past has kept me with him. Char. A seminary! Oh, heavens! but why have you not strove to do yourself justice? Sey. Thrown so young into his power, as I was-unknown and friendless, but through his means, to whom could I apply for succour? nay, Madam, I will confess, that on my return to England, I was first tainted with his enthusiastic notions myself; and, for some time, as much imposed upon by him, as others; till, by degrees, as he found it necessary to make use of, or totally discard me (which last he did not think prudent to do,) he was obliged to unveil himself to me in his proper coloursAnd I believe I can inform you of some parts of his private character, that may be the means of detecting one of the wickedest impostors that ever practised upon credulity. Char. But how has the wretch dared to trea you? Sey. In his ill and insolent humours, Madam, he has sometimes the presumption to tell me, that I am the object of his charity; and I own, Madam, that I am humbled in my opinion, by his having drawn me into a connivance at some actions, which I can't look back on without horror. Char. Indeed, you can't tell how I pity you; and depend upon it, if it be possible to serve you, by getting you out of the hands of this monster, I will. Sey. Once more, Madam, let me assure you, Sey. Any thing to serve you.- [Bell rings. Char. Hark! they ring to dinner: pray, Sir, step in: say I am obliged to dine abroad; and whisper one of the footmen to get a chair immediately; then do you take a proper occasion to slip out after me to Mr. Double's chambers in the Temple; there shall I have time to talk further with you. [Exeunt. ACT III. SCENE I.-A dressing-room, with table and chairs. Enter CHARLOTTE, with BETTY, taking off her cloak, &c. Char. Has any one been to speak with me, Betty? he would call again, and bid his servant stay Bet. Only Mr. Darnley, Madam; he said below to give him notice when you came home. Char. You don't know what he wanted? [Exit BETTY.] Ten to one but his wise head Enter DARNLEY. Darn. Your humble servant, Madam. Darn. You have been abroad, I hear. see. Darn. You seem to turn upon my words, Madam! Is there any thing particular in them? abroad, I believe. |
