Trusty. Presently won't do, man, you must | may be the porter has knocked him down—I'll come this minute. step and see [Without. Pound. I am but just paying a little money here. [Without. Trusty. Cods my life, paying money! Is the man distracted? Come here, I tell you, to my lady this moment; quick! [Without. TRUSTY returns. Lady Town. Will the monster come or no?Trusty. Yes, I hear him now, madam; he is hobbling up as fast as he can. Lady Town. Don't let him come in-for he will keep such a babbling about his accounts-my brain is not able to bear him. POUNDAGE comes to the door, with a money-bag in his hand. [Exit TRUSTY.. Lady Town. These trades-people are the troublesomest creatures! No words will satisfy them. TRUSTY returns. Trusty. Oh, madam! Undone, undone! My lord has just bolted out upon the man, and is hearing all his pitiful story over-If your ladyship pleases to come hither, you may hear him yourself. Lady Town. No matter; it will come round presently: I shall have it from my lord, without losing a word by the way, I'll warrant you. coming in. Trusty. Oh, lud, madam! here's my lord just Lady Town. Do you get out of the way, then. Trusty. Oh, it's well you are come, sir!-[Exit TRUSTY.I am afraid I want spirits; where's the fifty pounds? but he will soon give them me. Pound. Why, here it is; if you had not been in such haste, I should have paid it by this time -the man's now writing a receipt, below, for it. Trusty. No matter; my lady says you must not pay him with that money! there's not enough, it seems; there's a pistole, and a guinea, that is not good, in it-besides, there is a mistake in the account, too-[Twitches the bag from him.] But she is not at leisure to examine it now; so you must bid Mr What-d'ye-call-um call another time. Lady Town. What is all that noise there? Pound. Why, an it please your ladyship— Lady Town. Prithee, don't plague me now; but do as you were ordered. Pound. Nay, what your ladyship pleases, madam[Exit POUNDAGE. Trusty. There they are, madam-[Pours the money out of the bag.]-The pretty things were so near falling into a nasty tradesman's hand, I protest it made me tremble for them-I fancy your ladyship had as good give me that bad guinea, for luck's sake-Thank you, madam. [Takes a guinea. Lady Town. Why, I did not bid you take it? Trusty. No; but your ladyship looked as if you were just going to bid me; and so I was willing to save you the trouble of speaking, madam. Lady Town. Well, thou hast deserved it; and so, for once-but hark! don't I hear the man making a noise yonder? Though, I think, now, we may compound for a little of his ill-humourTrusty. I'll listen. Lady Town. Prithee, do. [TRUSTY goes to the door. Trusty. Ay, they are at it, madam-he's in a bitter passion with poor Poundage-Bless me! I believe he'll beat him-Mercy on us, how the wretch swears! Lady Town. And a sober citizen, too! that's a shame. Trusty. Ha! I think all's silent of a sudden Enter LORD TOWNLY. Lord Town. How comes it, madam, that a tradesman dares be clamorous in my house, for money due to him from you? Lady Town. You don't expect, my lord, that I should answer for other people's impertinence? Lord Town. I expect, madam, you should answer for your own extravagancies, that are the occasion of it--I thought I had given you money three months ago, to satisfy all these sort of people. Lady Town. Yes; but you see they never are to be satisfied. Lord Town. Nor am I, madam, longer to be abused thus; what's become of the last five hundred I gave you? Lady Town. Gone. Lord Town. Gone! What way, madam? Lady Town. Half the town over, I believe, by this time. Lord Town. 'Tis well; I see ruin will make no impression, till it falls upon you. Lady Town. In short, my lord, if money is always the subject of our conversation, I shall make you no answer. Lord Town. Madam, madam, I will be heard, and make you answer. Lady Town. Make me! Then I must tell you, my lord, this is a language I have not been used to, and I won't bear it. Lord Town. Come, come, madam, you shall bear a great deal more, before I part with you. Lady Town. My lord, if you insult me, you will have as much to bear on your side, I can as Lord Town. After those you have given me, madam, 'tis almost infamous to talk with you. Lady Town. I scorn your imputation, and your menaces. The narrowness of your heart's your monitor; 'tis there, there, my lord, you are wounded: you have less to complain of than many husbands of an equal rank to you. Lord Town. Death, madam! Do you presume upon your corporal merit, that your person's less tainted than your mind? Is it there, there alone, an honest husband can be injured? Have you not every other vice that can debase your birth, or stain the heart of woman? Is not your health, your beauty, husband, fortune, family disclaimed, for nights consumed in riot and extravagance? The wanton does no more; if she conceals her shame, does less: and sure the dissolute avowed, as sorely wrongs my honour and my quiet. Lady Town. I see, my lord, what sort of wife might please you. in the world, that keeps his misfortunes out of doors, than he that tamely keeps them within. Lady Town. I don't know what figure you may make, my lord; but I shall have no reason to be ashamed of mine, in whatever company I may meet you. Lord Town. Be sparing of your spirit, madam; you'll need it to support you. Enter LADY GRACE and MANLY. Mr Manly, I have an act of friendship to beg of you, which wants more apologies than words can make for it. Man. Then, pray, make none, my lord, that I may have the greater merit in obliging you. Lord Town. Sister, I have the same excuse to intreat of you, too. Lady Grace. To your request, I beg, my lord, Lord Town. Thus, then- -As you both were present at my ill-considered marriage, I Lord Town. Ungrateful woman! Could you now desire you each will be a witness of my dehave seen yourself, you, in yourself, had seen her termined separation-I know, sir, your good-na-I am amazed our legislature has left no prece- ture, and my sister's, must be shocked at the ofdent of a divorce for this more visible injury, fice I impose on you; but as I don't ask your this adultery of the mind, as well as that of the justification of my cause, so I hope you are conperson! When a woman's whole heart is alien-scious-that an ill woman can't reproach you, if ated to pleasures I have no share in, what is it to me, whether a black ace, or a powdered coxcomb, has possesion of it? Lady Town. If you have not found it yet, my lord, this is not the way to get possession of mine, depend upon't. Lord Town. That, madam, I have long despaired of; and, since our happiness cannot be mutual, 'tis fit, that, with our hearts, our persons, too, should separate. This house you sleep no more in though your content might grossly feed upon the dishonour of a husband, yet my desires would starve upon the features of a wife. Lady Town. Your style, my lord, is much of the same delicacy with your sentiments of ho you are silent, on her side. Man. My lord, I never thought, till now, it could be difficult to oblige you. Lady Grace. [Aside.] Heavens, how I tremble! Lord Town. For you, my lady Townly, I need not here repeat the provocations of my parting with you the world, I fear, is too well informed of them-For the good lord, your dead father's sake, I will still support you as his daughter-As Lord Townly's wife, you have had every thing a fond husband could bestow, and (to our mutual shame I speak it) more than happy wives desire-But those indulgences must end; state, equipage, and splendour, but ill become the vices that misuse them-The decent necessaries of life shall be supplied—but not one article to luxury; not even the coach, that waits to carry you from hence, shall you ever use again. Your tender aunt, iny lady Lovemore, with tears, this morning, has consented to receive you; where, if time and your condition bring you to a due reflection, your allowance shall be increased but if you are still lavish of your little, or pine for past licentious pleasures, that little shall be less: nor will I call that soul my friend, that names you in my hearing. Lady Grace. My heart bleeds for her. [Aside. Lord Town. Oh, Manly, look there! turn back thy thoughts with me, and witness to my growing love. There was a time, when I believed that form incapable of vice, or of decay; there I proposed the partner of an easy home; there I, for ever, hoped to find a cheerful companion, an agreeable intimate, a faithful friend, a useful help-mate, and a tender mother-but, oh! how | firmed. Wild with that fame, I thought mankind bitter now the disappointment! Man. The world is different in its sense of happiness; offended as you are, I know you will still be just. Lord Town. Fear me not. Man. This last reproach, I see, has struck her. [Aside. Lord Town. No, let me not (though I this moment cast her from my heart for ever) let me not urge her punishment beyond her crimes-I know the world is fond of any tale that feeds its appetite of scandal: and, as I am conscious severities of this kind seldom fail of imputations too gross to mention, I here, before you both, acquit her of the least suspicion raised against the honour of my bed. Therefore, when abroad her conduct may be questioned, do her fame that justice. Lady Town. Oh, sister! [Turns to LADY GRACE, weeping. Lord Town. When I am spoken of, where, without favour, this action may be canvassed, relate but half my provocations, and give me up to [Going. Lady Town. Support me! save me! hide me from the world! censure. [Falling on LADY GRACE's neck. Lord Town. [Returning.] I had forgot me— You have no share in my resentment; therefore, as you have lived in friendship with her, your parting may admit of gentler terms than suit the honour of an injured husband. [Offers to go out, Man. [Interposing.] My lord, you must not, shall not leave her thus! One moment's stay can do your cause no wrong! If looks can speak the anguish of her heart, I'll answer with my life, there's something labouring in her mind, that, would you bear the hearing, might deserve it. Lord Town. Consider! since we no inore can meet, press not my staying to insult her. But as Lady Town. Yet stay, my lord-the little I would say will not deserve an insult; and, undeserved, I know your nature gives it not. you've called in friends to witness your resentment, let them be equal hearers of my last reply. Lord Town. I shan't refuse you that, madam -be it so. Lady Town. My lord, you ever have complained I wanted love; but, as you kindly have allowed I never gave it to another; so, when you hear the story of my heart, though you may still complain, you will not wonder at my coldness. Lady Grace. This promises a reverse of tem[Apart. Man. This, my lord, you are concerned to hear. per. Lord Town. Proceed; I am attentive. Lady Town. Before I was your bride, my lord, the flattering world had talked me into beauty, which, at my glass, my youthful vanity con my slaves; I triumphed over hearts, while all my pleasure was their pain: yet was my own so equally insensible to all, that, when a father's firm commands enjoined me to make choice of one, I even then declined the liberty he gave, and to his own election yielded up my youthhis tender care, my lord, directed him to youOur hands were joined; But still my heart was wedded to its folly. My only joy was power, command, society, profuseness, and to lead in pleasures: The husband's right to rule, I thought a vulgar law, which only the deformed or meanly-spirited obeyed. I knew no directors, but my passions! no master, but my will! Even you, my lord, some time o'ercome by love, was pleased with my delights, nor then foresaw this mad misuse of your indulgence --And, though I call myself ungrateful, while I own it, yet, as a truth, it cannot be denied that kind indulgence has undone me; it added strength to my habitual failings; and, in a heart thus warm, in wild unthinking life, no wonder if the gentler sense of love was lost. Lord Town. Oh, Manly! where has this creature's heart been buried? Man. If yet recoverable treasure! [Apart. -How vast the [Apart. Lady Town. What I have said, my lord, is not my excuse, but my confession; my errors (give them, if you please, a harder name) cannot be defended. No! What's in its nature wrong, no words can palliate, no plca can alter. What then remains in my condition, but resignation to your pleasure? Time only can convince you of my future conduct: therefore, till I have lived an object of forgiveness, I dare not hope for pardon-The penance of a lonely, contrite life, were little to the innocent; but, to have deserved this separation, will strow perpetual thorns upon my pillow. Lady Grace. Oh, happy, heavenly hearing! Lady Town. Sister, farewell! [Kissing_her.] Your virtue needs no warning from the shame that falls on me: but when you think I have atoned my follies past-persuade your injured brother to forgive them. Lord Town. No, madam! Your errors, thus renounced, this instant are forgiven! So deep, so due a sense of them, has made you what my utmost wishes formed, and all my heart has sighed for. Lady Town. [Turning to LADY GRACE.] HOW odious does this goodness make ine! Lady Grace. How amiable your thinking so! Lord Town. Long parted friends, that pass through easy voyages of life, receive but cominon gladness at their meeting: but from a shipwreck saved, we mingle tears with our embraces! [Embracing LADY TOWNLY, Lady Town. What words, what love, what duty, can repay such obligations! Lord Town. Preserve but this desire to please, your power is endless. After some time, LORD and LADY TOWNLY, with LADY GRACE, enter to them, unmasked. Lord Town. So! here's a great deal of company. Lady Town. A great many people, my lord, but no company- as you'll find-for here's one now that seems to have a mind to en Lady Town. Oh!-till this moment never did I know, my lord, I had a heart to give you. Lord Town. By Heaven! this yielding hand, when first it gave you to my wishes, presented not a treasure more desirable! Oh, Manly! sister! as you have often shared in my disquiet, partake now of my felicity! my new-born joy!tertain us. see, here, the bride of my desires! This may be called my wedding-day. Lady Grace. Sister, (for now, methinks, that name is dearer to my heart than ever) let me congratulate the happiness that opens to you. Man. Long, long, and mutual, may it flowLord Town. To make our happiness complete, my dear, join here with me to give a hand, that amply will repay the obligation. Lady Town. Sister, a day like this- general joy. Man. A joy like mine to speak it. Lord Town. Oh, Manly, friend endears the brother! Man. Your words, my lord, will warm me to deserve them. Lord Town. No matter: not to see them, would on a sudden be too particular. Lady Grace will assist you to entertain them. Lady Town. With her, my lord, I shall be always easy- -Sister, to your unerring virtue I| now commit the guidance of my future days Never the paths of pleasure more to tread, [Exeunt. SCENE III.-Opening to another apartment, discovers a great number of people in masquerade, talking all together, and playing upon one another. LADY WRONGHEAD as a shepherdess; JENNY as a nun; the 'Squire as a running footman; and the Count in a domino. [A Mask, after some affected gesture, makes Lady Town. I don't know you, madam. [In a squeaking tone. Lady Town. Not I, indeed. guess? Lady Town. Yes, I could guess wrong, I be lieve. Mask. That's what I'd have you do. Lady Town. But, madam, if I don't know you at all, is not that as well? Mask. Ay, but you do know me. Lady Town. Dear sister, take her off my hands; there's no bearing this. [Apart. Lady Grace. I fancy I know you, madam. Mask. I fancy you don't; what makes you think you do? Lady Grace. Because I have heard you talk. sure. Lady Grace. There is something in your wit and humour, madam, so very much your own, it is impossible you can be any body but my lady Trifle. Mask. [Unmasking.] Dear lady Grace! thou art a charming creature. Lady Grace. Is there nobody else we know here? Mask. Oh dear, yes! I have found out fifty already. Lady Grace. Pray who are they? Mask. Oh, charming company! there's lady Ramble- -lady Riot-lady Kill-care-lady Squanderlady Strip-lady Pawn--and the dutchess of Single Guinea. Lord Town. Is it not hard, my dear, that people of sense and probity are sometimes forced to seem fond of such company? [Apart. Lady Town. My lord, it will always give me pain to remember their acquaintance, but none to drop it immediately. [Apart. Lady Grace. But you have given us no account of the men, madam. Are they good for any thing? Mask. Oh, yes, you must know, I always find out them by their endeavours to find out me. Lady Grace. Pray, who are they? Mask. Why, for your men of tip-top wit and Lord Town. Oh, by all means: we'll wait up pleasure, about town, there's my lord-Bite-1 Lady Grace. Right! and these are the fine gentlemen that never want elbow-room at an assembly. Mask. The rest, I suppose, by their tawdry hired habits, are tradesmen's wives, inns-of-court beaux, Jews, and kept mistresses. [The scene shuts upon the masks to a smaller apartment. MANLY re-enters with SIR FRANCIS WRONG HEAD. Sir Fran. Well, cousin, you have made my very hair stond on end! Waunds! if what you tell me be true, I'll stuff my whole family into a stage-coach, and trundle them into the country again on Monday morning. Man. Stick to that, sir, and we may yet find a Lord Town. An admirable collection! way to redeem all. In the mean time, place Lady Grace. Well, of all our public diver-yourself behind this screen, and, for the truth of sions, I am amazed how this, that is so very ex-what I have told you, take the evidence of your pensive, and has so little to shew for it, can draw own senses: but be sure you keep close till I so much company together! give you the signal. Lord Town. Oh, if it were not expensive, the better sort would not come into it: and because money can purchase a ticket, the common people scorn to be kept out of it. Mask. Right, my lord. Poor lady Grace! I suppose you are under the same astonishment, that an opera should draw so much good company. Lady Grace. Not at all, madam: 'tis an easier matter, sure, to gratify the ear, than the understanding. But have you no notion, madam, of receiving pleasure and profit at the same time? Mask. Oh, quite none! unless it be sometimes wiuning a great stake; laying down a vole, sans prendre, may come up to the profitable pleasure you were speaking of. Lord Town. You seem attentive, my dear? [Apart. Lady Town. I am, my lord; and amazed at my own follies, so strongly painted in another [Apart. woman. Lady Grace. But see, my lord, we had best adjourn our debate, I believe; for here are some masks that seem to have a mind to divert other people as well as themselves. Lord Town. The least we can do, is to give them a clear stage then. [A dance of masks here in various characters. This was a favour extraordinary. Sir Fran. Sir, I'll warrant you-Ah, my lady! my lady Wronghead! What a bitter business have you drawn me into! Man. Hush! to your post; here comes one couple already. [SIR FRANCIS retires behind the screen. Exit MANLY. Enter MYRTILLA with SQUIRE RICHARD. Squire Rich. What, is this the doctor's chamber? Myr. Yes, yes; speak softly. Squire Rich. Well, but where is he? Myr. He'll be ready for us presently; but he says, he can't do us the good turn without witnesses: so, when the count and your sister come, you know he and you may be fathers for one another. Squire Rich. Well, well; tit for tat! ay, ay, that will be friendly. Myr. And see, here they come. Enter COUNT BASSET, and MISS JENNY. Count Bas. So, so, here's your brother and his bride, before us, my dear. Jenny. Well, I vow, my heart's at my mouth still! I thought I should never have got rid of mamma; but while she stood gaping upon the dance, I gave her the slip? Lawd, do but feel how it beats here! Count Bas. Oh, the pretty flutterer! I protest, my dear, you have put mine into the same palpitation! Jenny. Ay, say you so?—but let's see now— Oh, lud! I vow it thumps purely-well, well, I see it will do; and so, where's the parson? Count Bus. Mrs Myrtilla, will you be so good as to see if the doctor's ready for us? Myr. He only staid for you, sir: I'll fetch him immediately. [Exit MYR. Jenny. Pray, sir, am not I to take place of mamma, when I'm a countess? Count Bas. No doubt on't, my dear. |