on his hands, for we two have been agreeing what havock he has made with us. Bev. Is a tyrannical, positive, headstrongBel. There again I thank you. But, in short, the old couple, Belinda's father and mine, have Cla. Yes; but we are but in a kind of fool's paboth agreed upon the match. They insist upon radise here: all our schemes are but mere castlecompliance from their children; so that, accord- building, which your father, Mr Bellmont, and, ing to their wise heads, I am to be married off-my dear Belinda-yours, too, are most obstinatehand to Belinda, and you and your sister, poorly determined to destroy. Clarissa, are to be left to shift for yourselves. Bev. Racks and torments! Bel. Racks and torments! Seas of milk and ships of amber, man! We are sailing to our wished for harbour, in spite of their machinations. I have settled the whole affair with Cla Enter BELINDA and CLARISSA. Bev. Grace was in all her steps; heaven in her eye; in every gesture dignity and love. Belin. A poetical reception, truly! But cannot your passion inspire you to a composition of your own, Mr Beverley? Bev. It inspires me with sentiments, madam, which I cannot find words to express. Suckling, Waller, Landsdown, and all our dealers in loveverses, give but a faint image of a heart touched like mine. Belin. Poor gentleman! What a terrible taking you are in! But, if the sonneteers cannot give an image of you, sir, have you had recourse to a painter, as you promised me?. Bev. I have, Belinda, and here-here is the humble portrait of your adorer. Belin. [Takes the picture.]-Well! there is a likeness; but, after all, there is a better painter than this gentleman, whoever he be. Bev. A better! Now she is discontented !— [Aside.Where, madam, can a better be found? If money can purchase hin Belin. Oh! sir, when he draws for money, he never suceeeds. But, when pure inclination prompts him, then his colouring is warm indeed. He gives a portrait that endears the original. Bev. Such an artist is worth the Indies! Belin. You need not go so far to seek him : he has done your business already. The limner I mean, is a certain little blind god, called Love, and he has stamped such an impression of you here Bev. Madam, your most obedient: and I can tell you, that the very same gentleman has been at work for you too. Bel. [Who had been talking apart with CLARISSA.]-Oh! he has had a world of business up Bel. Why, as you say, they are determined that I shall have the honour of Belinda's hand, in the country-dance of matrimony. Belin. Without considering that I may like another partner better. Bev. And without considering that I, forlorn as I am, and my sister, there, who is as well inclined to a matrimonial game of romps as any girl in Christendom, must both of us sit down, and bind our brows with willow, in spite of our strongest inclinations to mingle in the groupe. Belin. But we have planned our own happiness, and, with a little resolution, we shall be success-. ful in the end, I warrant you. Clarissa, let us take a turn this way, and leave that love-sick pair to themselves: they are only fit company for each other, and we may find wherewithal to entertain ourselves. Cla. Let us try: turn this way. Bel. Are you going to leave us, Clarissa? Cla. Only just sauntering into this side-walk: we sha'nt lose one another. Belin. You are such a tender couple! you arc not tired, I see, of saying pretty soft things to each other. Well, well! take your own way. Cla. And, if I guess right, you are glad to be left together? Belin. Who, I? Cla. Yes, you; the coy Belinda! Belin. Not I truly: let us walk together. Cla. No, no; by no means: you shall be indulged. Adieu! we shall be within call. [Exeunt BEL. and CLA. Bev. My sister is generously in love with Bellmont: I wish Belinda would act as openly towards me. [Aside. Belin. Well, sir! Thoughtful! I'll call Mr Bellinont back, if that is the case. Bev. She will call him back. Bev. I see you are; and the company per- | ceived it last night. I have heard it all: in mere resentment you directed all your discourse to Mr Bellmont. Belin. If I did, it was merely accidental. Bev. No, it was deliberately done: forgive my rash folly in refusing the invitation: I meant no manner of harm. Belin. Who imagines you did, sir? Bev. I beg your pardon, Belinda: you take offence too lightly. Belin. Ha, ha! what have you taken into your head now? This uneasiness is of your own making: I have taken nothing ill, sir. Bev. You could not but take it ill; but by all that's amiable about you, I meant not to incur your displeasure: forgive that abrupt answer I sent: I should have made a handsomer apology. Belin. Apology! you was engaged, was not you? Bev. I said so; I own it, and beg your pardon Belin. Beg my pardon! for what? Ha, ha! Belin. Ha, ha! can you think I see any thing in your message to be offended at, sir? pretation of my words and actions cannot be improper. Belin. But these little humours may grow up, and gather into the fixed disease of jealousy at last. [LADY RESTLESS crosses the stage, and rings a bell at the door.] And there now-there goes a lady who is a victim to her own fretful imagination. Bev. Who is the lady, pray? Belin. My lady Restless. Walk this way, and I will give you her whole character. I am not acquainted with her ladyship, but I have heard much of her. This way. [Exeunt BELINDA and BEVERLEY. TATTLE opens the door, MARMALET follows her. Mar. Yes, Mrs Tattle; I am obliged to leave you. I'll step across the Park, and I shall soon reach Grosvenor-Square. When shall I see you at our house? Bev. I was wrong: I beg your pardon. Where you were concerned, I own I should have expressed myself with more delicacy, than those hasty words I am engaged, and can't wait upon you to-night. I should have told you that Tut. Heaven knows when I shall be able to my heart was with you, though necessity drag-get out: my lady leads us all such lives! I wish I ged me another way: this omission you resented. had such another place as you have of it. I could learn, since, what spirits you were in the Mar. I have nothing to complain of. the whole evening, though I enjoyed nothing in your absence. I could hear the sallies of your wit, the sprightliness of your conversation, and on whom your eyes were fixed the whole night. Belin. They were fixed upon Mr Bellmont, you think? Bev. Ay! and fixed with delight upon him, negociating the business of love before the whole company. Belin. Upon my word, sir, whoever is your author, you are misinformed. You alarm me with these fancies, and you know I have often told you, that you are of too refining a temper: you create for yourself imaginary misunderstandings, and then are ever entering into explanations. But this watching for intelligence, from the spies and misrepresenters of conversation, betrays strong symptoms of jealousy. I would not be married to a jealous man for the world. Bev. Now she's seeking occasion to break off. [Aside.]-Jealousy, madam, can never get admission into my breast. I am of too generous a temper a certain delicacy I own I have; I value the opinion of my friends, and, when there are circuinstances of a doubtful aspect, I am glad to set things in their true light. And if I do so with others, surely with you, on whom my happiness depends, to desire a favourable inter Tat. No, that you have not: when shall I get such a gown as that you have on, by my lady? She will never fling off such a thing, and give it to a poor servant! Worry, worry, worry herself, and every body else, too. an acquaintance of mine, madam; as good a kind of body as any at all. Lady Rest. Oh! very fine, mistress! you bring your creatures after the vile man, do you? Mar. I assure you, madam, I am a very honest girl. Lady Rest. Oh! I dare say so. Where did you get that gown? Mar. La, madam! I came by it honestly; my lady Conquest gave it to me. I live with my lady Conquest, madam. Lady Rest. What a complexion she has! How long have you lived in London? Mar. Three years, madam. Lady Rest. In London three years with that complexion! it can't be perhaps, she is painted: all these creatures paint. You are all so many painted dolls. [Rubs her face with a white handkerchief] No, it does not come off. So, Mrs Tattle, you bring fresh country girls here to my house, do you? Tat. Upon my credit, madam Lady Rest. Don't tell me! I see through this affair. Go you about your business, mistress, and let me never see you about my doors again: go, go your ways. Mar. Lord, madam! I shan't trouble your house. Mrs Tattle, a good-day. Here's a deal to-da, indeed! I have as good a house as hers to go to, whatever she may think of herself. [Exit. Lady Rest. There, there, there! see there! she goes off in a huff! the way with them all. Ay! I see how it is, Tattle: you false, ungrateful-that gown was never given her by a woman; she had that from sir John. Where is sir John? Tat. Sir John an't at home, madam. will have it in our marriage articles, that I must not be plagued with your suspicions. Bev. I subscribe, madam. Belin. I will have no inquiries where I am going to visit: no following me from place to place and if we should chance to meet, and you should perceive a man of wit, or a pretty fellow, speaking to me, I will not have you fidgetting about on your chair, knitting your brow, and looking at your watch My dear, is it not time to go home? my love, the coach is waiting :and, then, if you are prevailed upon to stay, I will not have you converse with a 'Yes, sir,' and a 'No, sir,' for the rest of the evening, and then wrangle with me in the carriage all the way home, and not be commonly civil to me for the rest of the night. I, positively, will have none of this. Bev. Agreed, madam; agreed Belin. And you shan't tell me you are going out of town, and then steal privately to the play, or to Ranelagh, merely to be a spy upon me. I positively will admit no curiosity about my letters. If you were to open a letter of mine, I should never forgive you. I do verily believe, if you were to open my letters, I should hate you. Bev. I subscribe to every thing you can ask. You shall have what female friends you please; lose your money to whom you please; dance with what beau you please; ride out with whom you please; go to what china-shop you please; and, in short, do what you please, without my attempting to bribe your footmen, or your maid, for secret intelligence. Belin. Oh, lud! Oh, lud! that is the very strain of jealousy. Deliver me! there is my father yonder, and sir William Bellmont with him. Fly this instant! fly, Mr Beverly, down that Lady Rest. Where is he? Where is he gone? walk; any where. When did he go out? Tat. I really don't know, madam. Lady Rest. Tattle, I know you fib, now. But I'll sift this to the bottom. I'll write to my lady Conquest to know the truth about that girl, that was here but now. Tat. You will find I told you truth, madam. Lady Rest. Very well, Mrs Pert. I'll go, and write this moment. Send Robert, to give me an account of his master. Sir John, sir John, you will distract me. [Exeunt. Re-enter BELINDA and BEVERLEY. Belin. Ay! but that quickness, that extreme sensibility, is what I am afraid of. I positively would not have a jealous husband for the world. Bev. By Heaven! no earthly circumstance shall ever make me think injuriously of you. Jealousy! ha, ha, ha! it is the most ridiculous passion! ha, ha! Belin. You may laugh, sir; but I know your over refining temper too well; and I absolutely Bev. You promise, then——— Belin. Don't talk to me now: what would you be at? I am yours, and only yours, unalterably so. Fly! begone! leave me this moment. Bev. I obey: I am gone. [Exit. Belin. Now, they are putting their wise heads together to thwart all my schemes of happiness but love, imperious love, will have it otherwise. sense about Beverley: she must do as I will have her. Sir Wil. And my son, too; he must follow my directions. As to his telling me of his love for Clarissa, it is all a joke with me. Children must do as their parents will have them. Bland. Ay, so they must; and so they shall. Hey! here is my daughter. So, Belinda! Well, iny girl, sir William and I have agreed, and you are to prepare for marriage; that's all. Belin. With Mr Beverley, sir? Belin. You know you encouraged him yourself, sir. Bland. Well, well! I have changed my mind on that head: my friend, sir William, here, offers you his son. Do as I advise you have a care, Belinda, how you disobey my commands. Belin. But, sir-- Bland. But, madam! I must, and will be obeyed. You don't like him, you say: but I like him, and that's sufficient for you. Sir Wil. And so it is, Mr Blandford. If my son pretended to have a will of his own, I should let him know to the contrary. Belin. And can you, sir William, against our inclination, force us both? Bland. Hold your tongue, Belinda; don't provoke me. What makes you from home! Go your ways back directly, and settle your mind.1 tell you, once for all, I will have my own way. Come, sir William, we will step to the lawyer's chambers. Go home, Belinda, and be observant of my commands. Come, sir William. What | did you say? TO BELINDA.] You mutiny, do you? Don't provoke me. You know, Belinda, I am an odd sort of man, when provoked. Look ye here: mind what I say; I won't reason with you about the matter; my power is absolute, and, if you offer to rebel, you shall have no husband at all with my consent. I'll cut you off with a shilling; I'll see you starve; beg an alms; live miserable; die wretched: in short, suffer any calamity without the least compassion from me. If I find you an undutiful girl, I cast you off for ever. So there's one word for all. [Exit: SIR WILLIAM follows him. Belin. What will become of me? his inhumanity overcomes me quite-I can never consent: the very sight of this picture is enough to forbid it. Oh! Beverley, you are master of my heart. I'll go this instant-and-Heavens! I can scarce I am ready to faint. move. Enter SIR JOHN. Sir John. No tidings of her far or near. Sir John. What do I sec! a young lady in distress! Belin. Oh! [Faints in his arms, and drops the picture. Sir John. She is fallen into a fit. Would my servants were in the way! LADY RESTLESS, at her window. Lady Rest. Where can this barbarous man be gone to?-How! under my very window ! Sir John. How cold she is! quite cold [Lay his hand to her cheek. Lady Rest. How familiar he is with her! Sir John. And yet she looks beautiful still. Lady Rest. Does she so? Sir John. Her eyes open-how lovely they look! Lady Rest. Traitor! Sir John. Her cheek begins to colour. Well, young lady, how fare you now, my dear? Lady Rest. My dear, too! Belin. Heavens! where am I?- Sir John. Repose yourself awhile, or will you step into my house? Lady Rest. No, truly, shan't she. Vile man! but I will spoil your sport. I will come down to you directly, and flash confusion in your face. [Exit from above. Sir John. Where do you live, madam? Belin. In Queen's-square, sir, by the side of the Park. Sir John. I will wait upon you: trust yourself with me. You look much better, now. Lean on my arm. There, there, I will conduct you. [Exeunt. Enter LADY RESTLESS. Lady Rest. Now, I'll make one among ye.How! Fled! Gone! Which way? Is not that he, yonder? No-he went into my house, I dare say, as I came down stairs. Tattle, Tattle! Robert! Will nobody answer? Enter TATTLE. Where is sir John? Tat. La! Madam, how should I know? Lady Rest. To be sure you will say so. I'll follow him through the world, or I'll find him out. So, so-what is here? This is her picture, I suppose? I will make sure of this, at least: this will discover her to me, though she has escaped now. Cruel, false, deceitful man! [Erit. Tat. Poor lady! I believe her head is turned, for my part. Well! I am determined I'll look out for another place, that's a sure thing I will. [Erit. SCENE I-SIR JOHN's house. Enter SIR JOHN and RоBert. Sir John. ROBERT, where is your lady? ACT II. Rob. I cannot say, sir: my lady is not well. Sir John. Not well! Fatigued with rioting about this town, I suppose. How long has she been at home? Rob. About an hour, sir. Tat. How are you now, Madam? Lady Rest. Somewhat better, Tattle. Reach that chair. Tattle, tell me honestly, does that girl live with lady Conquest? Tat. She does, madam, upon my veracity. Lady Rest. Very well! You will be obstinate, I see; but I shall know the truth presently. I shall have an answer from her ladyship, and then all will come out. Tat. You will hear nothing, madam, but what I have told you already. Lady Rest. Tattle, Tattle, I took you up in the country, in hopes gratitude would make you my friend. But you are as bad as the rest of them. Conceal all you know: it is of very little consequence. I now see through the whole affair. Though it is the picture of a man, yet I am not to be deceived: I understand it all. This is some former gallant. The creature gave this to sir John, as a proof that she had no affection for any one but himself. What art he must have had to induce her to this! I have found him out at last. women should be under severer restraints than the men are! Sir John. You repine for want of freedom, do you? Lady Rest. Cruel laws of wedlock! The tyrant husband may triumph in his infidelity. He may securely trample upon all laws of decency and order: it redounds to his credit; gives him a fashionable air of vice, while a poor woman is obliged to submit to his cruelty. She remains tied to him for life, even though she has reason to entertain a mortal hatred for him. Sir John. Ob! Very well argued, madam ! Lady Rest. What a pity it is, Tattle, that we cannot change our husbands, as we do our earrings, or our gloves! Sir John. There is a woman of spirit! Lady Rest. Tattle! Will you own the truth to me about that girl? Tat. I really have told you the truth, madam. Lady Rest. You won't discover, I see: very well! You may go down stairs. Tat. I assure your ladyship Lady Rest. Go down stairs. [Exit. Lady Rest. Would I had never seen my husband's face! Sir John. I am even with you: I have as good wishes for you, I assure you. Lady Rest. This picture here--Oh, the base man! Sir John. The picture of her gallant, I sup pose. Lady Rest. This is really a handsome picture: what a charming countenance! It is perfumed, I fancy: the scent is agreeable. Sir John. The jade! how eagerly she kisses it! Lady Rest. Why had I not such a dear, dear man, instead of the brute, the monster Sir John. Monster! She does not mince the matter: plain downright English! I must contain my rage, and steal upon her meditations— So-so-so Enters on tiptoe. Lady Rest. There is no falsehood in this look. Sir John. [Looking over her shoulder.]—Oh! What a handsome dog she has chosen for herself! Lady Rest. With you I could be for ever happy! Sir John. You could, could you? [Snatches the picture. Lady Rest. [Screams out.]—Mercy on me!— Oh! is it you, sir? Sir John. Now, madam! now, false one, have I caught you? sir. Lady Rest. You are come home at last, I find, 5 C |
