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Ludy R. She has given it to Sir John, sir, to show him how little she regards it.
Bed. Given it to him?
Bev. Madam, I would not hurt your peace of mind : I would not give you an impression of Sir John, that may affect his character.
Lady R. O, sir, stand upon no ceremony with him; an injurious, false, licentious man!
Bev. Is that his character
Lady R. Notoriously : he has made me miserable. O, Sir John, Sir John!
Lady R. Belinda Blandford. So far I have discovered.
[Aside. Bev. Pray, madam, have you ever seen her?
Lady R. Seen her, sir! yes, I have seen too much of her.
Bev. You alarm me, madam. You have seen uothing improper, I hope ?
Lady R. I don't know what you call improper : but, pray, what ought one to think of a young lady, thrown familiarly into a gentleman's arms?
Beo. In his arms, madam! Sir John's arms!
Lady R. Iu Sir John's !-in open day ;-in the Park; -under my very window ;-most familiarly, wantonly reclining in his very arms !
Bev. O, heavens !
Lady R. He clasping her with equal freedom round the waist.
Bed. False, false Belinda!
thank you for the discovery, though I am ruined by it, But give me leave ;—is all this certain ?
Lady R. There can be no doubt, sir; these eyes beheld their amorous meeting.
Bev. Saw it yourself?
Lady R. Yes, all, all, sir. Sir John, I know, is ca. pable of any thing, and you know what to think of Belinda, as you call her.
Beo. I now know what to think: I have long had reason to suspect.
Lady R. You hare, sir? Then the whole affair is plain enough. · Beo. It is so. I meant an honourable connection with her;-but
Lady R. But you see, sir !
Beo. Yes, I see, madam- You are sure Sir John has the picture ? • Lady R. Sure, sir!-it is your own picture. I had it in my hands but a moment, and he flew with ardour, with impetuosity, like a fury flew to it, and recovered it from me.- What could be the meaning of all that violence?
Bev. The meaning is too plain.
Lady R. And then, sir, when charged and pressed home with his guilt, most hypocritically he pretended to believe it the portrait of some favourite of mine. But you know, sir, how false that insinuation is.
Bev. O, madam, I can justify you-Ha, ha! that is but a poor evasion, and confirms me the more in my opinion.— I return you many thanks, madam, and humbly take my leave.
Lady R. Sir, I am glad you thought it prudent to speak to me about this affair. If any other circumstances come to your knowledge, I shall take it as a favour if you will acquaint me with them; for, indeed, şir, I am very unhappy.
Bev. I am in gratitude bound to you, and my best
services you shall ever command. Madam, your most obedient.---0, Belinda! Belinda!
[Exit. Lady R. Now, Sir John, how will you be able to confront these stubborn facts ?-You are now seen through all your disguises; detected in your true colours. Tattle within here has fresh proofs against you, and your man Robert, and the whole house.-I must hear Tattle's story this very moment.
Scene III.—The Park..
Enter Sir John. Sir John. Yes, yes, he told me his name honestly enough. Beverley is his name :-and, my Lady Restless, now your gallant, your paramour, is known.What do I see !-By all my wrongs, the very man again! coming out of my house, before my face !
Enter Beverley and Robert, from the house. Beo. There, friend, there is something for your trouble. Rob. I thank your honour.
[Exit. Sir John. He bribes my servant too ;—and the fellow takes it !-Both in their trade ; both in their trade!.
Beo. Could I have suspected her of such treachery? - As I could wish I take that to be Sir John Restless.
Sir John. This is he, to whom I have so many obli. gations.
[Aside. Beo. Well encountered :-your servant, sir.
Sir John. My servant, sir!-rather take it you are my lady's servant.
Bev. You, if I don't mistake, Sir John, are a pretty general servant of the ladies. Pray, sir, have not you à picture of mine in your pocket?
Sir John. That, I suppose, you have heard from my . good lady within there?
Bev. Yes, sir, and I have heard a great deal more" from my lady.
Sir John. I don't in the least doubt it.
Bev. Sir, I do not mean to work myself up into any choler about such a trifting bauble. Since the lady has thought proper to give it to you
Sir John. Do her justice, pray; she did not give it; so far, she was true to you. I took it from her, sir.
Bev. Took it from her! That shows he is upon easy terms. (Aside.)-It is of no consequence to me; I despise it, and you are welcome to make what use you will of it. This I will only say, that you have made me miserable.
Sir John. What, I have interrupted your happiness? Beo. You have.
Sir John. And no doubt you think it cruel of me so to do?
Bev. Call it by what name you will; you have ruined me with the woman I doated on to distraction.
Sir John. A candid declaration !-And so, sir, you doated on her, and never reflected that you were doing me the least injury?.
Beo. Injury I promise you, sir, I will never injure you again, and so you may set your mind at peace. I here declare, I never will hold further intercourse with her.
Sir John. O, that is too late for me.--I have now done with her myself. You are very welcome to the lady, sir !—you may take her home with you as soon 23 you please.. I forswear her, and so I shall tell my lady this moment.
[Going. Beo. That will make her ladyship happy, no doubt. Sir John. Yes, I dare say you know it will. Beo. She told me as much, sir. Sir John. She did !-why, then you may depend !
shall keep my word; and my lady may depend upon it too. And that, I suppose, will make you both happy, sir.
Beo. My happiness is past recalling: I disdain all further connexion with the lady.
Sir John. Ay, you are tired of her?
Beo. I lothe her, detest her, hate her as much as I ever loved her.
Sir John. And so do I, d-me if I don't. And so I shall tell my lady this very instant.--Your servant, sir. If I can find proof sufficient, you shall hear of me, I promise you.
[Exit. Beo. I see how it is ;-she has been connected with him, till she has pallid his very appetite. Sdeath, I'll seek her this moment, upbraid her with her falsehood, and then-by heavens! I shall do it with regret. I feel a tug at my heartstring; but were I to be torn piecemeal, this shall be our last interview.
Enter Belinda, Clarissa, and Bellmont. Belin. Alas a day! poor soul ! see where he takes his melancholy walk. Did not I tell you, Clarissa, that the striken deer could not quit this place ?
Clar. And did not I tell you, Belinda, that you could not keep away from the pursuit ?
Bell. Pray, ma'am, do you want to be in at the death, or do you mean to bring the poor thing to life again?
Belin. I!- what do you mean?-You bring me this way.
Clar. Well, if that is the case, we had as good go home, for I want my tea.
Belin. Po! not yet :-it is not six o'clock,
Clar. At you, my dear :-why, 'tis past seven. O, Belinda, you are the stricken deer, I find.