Belinda,-yours too, are most obstinately determined to destroy.

Bell. 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 group.

Bell. But we have planned our own happiness, and, with a little resolution, we shall be successful 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.

Clar. Let us try: turn this way.

Belin. Are you going to leave us, Clarissa?

Clar. Only just sauntering into this side-walk: we sha'n't lose one another.

Belin. You are such a tender couple! you are not tired, I see, of saying pretty soft things to each other. Well! well! take your own way.

Clar. And if I guess right, you are glad to be left together.

Belin. Who, I?

Clar. Yes, you; the coy

Belinda!

Belin. Not I, truly: let us walk together.

Clar. No, no, by no means: you shall be indulged -we shall be within call.

Adieu!

[Exeunt BELLMONT and CLARISSA.

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. Bell

mont back, if that's the case. Bev. She will call him back.

Belin. Am I to entertain

Bev. Madam!

you, or you me?

[Aside.

Belin. Madam!-ha, ha! Why you look as if you were frightened: Are you afraid of being left alone with me?

Bev. O, Belinda, you know that is the happiness of my life;-but

Belin. But what, sir?

Bev. Have I done any thing to offend you?

Belin. To offend me?

Bev. I should have been of the party last night; I own I should; it was a sufficient inducement to me that you was to be there; it was my fault, and you, I see, are piqued at it.

Belin. I piqued!

Bev. I see you are; and the company perceived 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.-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 symp

toms 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, ma'am, 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 circumstances 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 interpretation 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?

way.

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 [Exeunt BELINDA and BEVERLEY. Lady R. [Ringing at the door.] What do these servants mean? There is something going forward here. I will be let in, or I will know the reason why. [Rings again.] But in the meantime, Sir John can let any body he pleases out at the street door: I'll run up the steps here, and observe.

[Exit.

TATTLE opens the door, MARMALET follows her. Tat. Who rung this bell?—I don't see any body ;— and yet I am sure the bell rung.-Well, Mrs. Marmalet, you will be going, I see.

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?

Tat. Heaven knows, when I shall be able to get out : my lady leads us all such lives! I wish I had such another place as you have of it.

Mar. I have nothing to complain of.

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.

Enter LADY RESTLESS.

Lady R. No; there is nobody stirring that way. What do I see? A hussy coming out of my house! Mar. Well, I must be gone, Mrs. Tattle: fare you well.

Lady R. She is dizened out too! why did not you open the door, Tattle, when I rung?

Tat. I came as soon as possible, madam.

Lady R. Who have you with you here? What is your business, mistress? [To MARMALEt.

Mar. My business, madam!

Lady R. In confusion, too! The case is plain.-You come here after Sir John, I suppose.

Mar. I come after Sir John, madam!

Lady R. Guilt in her face! yes, after Sir John:and, Tattle, you are in the plot against me; you were favouring her escape, were you?

Tut. I favour her escape, madam! What occasion for that? This is Mrs. Marmalet, madam, an acquaintance of mine, madam, as good a kind of body as any

at all.

Lady R. O, 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 R. O! I dare say so. Where did you get that gown?

Mar. La, maʼam! I came by it honestly; my Lady

Conquest gave it to me. I live with my Lady Conquest, madam.

Lady R. What a complexion she has! How long have you lived in London ?

Mar. Three years, madam.

Lady R. 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 your fresh country girls here to my house, do you?

Tat. Upon my credit, ma'am

Lady R. 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, ma'am, I shan't trouble your house.Mrs. Tattle, a good day. Here's a deal to do, indeed! I have as good a house as her's to go to, whatever she may think of herself. [Exit. Lady R. 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, ma'am.

Lady R. Where is he? Where is he gone? When did he go

out?

Tat. I really don't know, ma'am.

Lady R. 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, maʼam.

Lady R. 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,