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Mrs Oak. Why, you wont let me speak! real truth. I can explain every thing to your
Oak. Because you don't speak as you ought. satisfaction. Madam, madam! you shau't look, nor walk, nor Mrs Ouk. May be so-1 cannot argue with talk, nor think, but as I please.
you. Mrs Oak. Was there ever such a monster! I Cha. Pray, madam, hear her for
sake can bear this no longer. (Bursts into tears.] O for your own-dear madam! you vile man! I can see through your design Mrs Oak. Well well-proceed. you cruel, barbarous, inhuman
-such usage to
Oak. I shall relapse. I can't bear to see her so your poor wite you'll be the death of ber. uneasy.
[ Apart. Oek. She sban't be the death of me, I am de Maj. Hush -Hush!
Har. I understand, madam, that your first Mrs Oak. That it should ever come to this ! - aların was occasioned by a letter from my father To be contradicted—(Sobbing.]-insulted—abus- to your nephew. ed-hated—'tis too much-my heart will burst Rus. I was in a bloody passion to be sure, mawith-oh-oh! - [Falls into a fit. Barrior, dam !—The letter was not over civil, I believe-CHARLES, 8c. run to her assistance,]
I did not know but the young rogue had ruined Oak. (Interposing:] Let her alone.
my girl—But its all over now, and soHar. Sir, Mrs Oakly
Mrs Ouk. You was here yesterday, sir? Cha. For Ilearen's sake, sir, she will be Rus. Yes, I came after Harriot. "I thought I
Oak. Let her alone, I say; I won't have her should find my young madam with my young sir, touched-let her alone—it her passions throw here. her into fits, let the strength of them carry her Mrs Oak. With Charles, did you say, sir? through them.
Rus. Ay, with Charles, madam! The young Har. Pray, my dear sir, let us assist her. She rogue has been fond of her a long time, and she
of him, it seems. Oak. I don't care-you shan't touch her-let Mrs Oak. I fear I have been to blame. her bear them patiently-she'll learn to behave
(Aside. better another time -Let her alone, I say.
Rus. I ask pardon, madam, for the disturbirs Oak. (Rising.1.0 you monster !-you ance I made in your house. villain !--you base man
! Would you let me Har. And the abrupt manner in which I came die for want of help ?-would you
into it, demands a thousand apologies. But the Oak. Bless me! madam, your fit is very vio- occasion must be my excuse. lent-take care of yourself.
Mirs Oak. How bave I been mistaken ! ( Aside. JIrs Oak. Despised, ridiculed--but I'll be re -But did not I overhear you and Mr Oakly----venged—you shall see, sir
[To Harkiot. Oak. Tol-de-rol loll-de-rol loll-de-rol loll! Har. Dear madam! you had but a partial
[Singing. hearing of our conversation. It related entirely Mrs Oak. What, am I made a jest of? Ex- to this gentleman. posed to all the world ?-If there's law or jus Cha. To put it beyond doubt, madam, Mr
Russet and my guardian have consented to our Ouk. Tol-de-rol loll-de-rol loll-de-rol loll! marriage; and we are in hopes that you will not
[Singing withhold your approbation. Mrs Oak. I shall burst with anger-Ilave a Mrs Oak. I have no further doubt-I see you care, sir, you may repent this—Scorned and made are innocent, and it was cruel to suspect youridiculous !-No power on earth shall hinder my You have taken a load of anguish off iny mindrevenge!
[Going. and yet your kind interposition comes too late. Har. (Interposing.] Stay, madam.
Mr Oakly's love for me is entirely destroyed. Mrs Oak. Let me go. I cannot bear this
Oak. I must go to her-
Apart. Har. Let me beseech you, madain.
Maj. Not yet! -Not yet! [Apurt. Oak. What does the girl mean? Apart. Har. Do not disturb yourself with such ap
Maj. Courage, brother! you have done won- prehensions. I am sure Mr Oakly loves you most ders,
[Apart. affectionately. Oak. I think she'll have no more fits. [Apart. Oak. I can hold no longer. [Going to her.]
Har. Stay, madam-Pray stay but one mo- My affection for you, madam, is as warın as ever. ment. I have been a painful witness of your un Nothing can ever extinguish it. My constrained easiness, and in great part the innocent occasion behaviour cut me to the soul, For, within these of it. Give me leave then
few hours, it has been all constrained and it Mrs Oak. I did not expect, indeed, to have was with the utmost difficulty that I was able to found you here again. But, however
support it. Har. I see the agitation of your mind, and it Mrs Oak. O, Mr Oakly, how have I exposed makes me miserable. Suffer me to tell you the myself! What low arts has my jealousy induced Vol. II.
me to practise ! I see my folly, and fear that have had an admirable effect, and so don't be you can never forgive me.
angry with your physician. Oak. Forgive you >You are too good, my Mrs Oak. I am indeed obliged to you, and I love !-Forgive you !-Can
you forgive me? feel This change transports me
Brother! Mr Rus Oak. Nay, my dear, no more of this. All that's set! Charles ! Harriot! give me joy!-- I am past must be utterly forgotten. the happiest man in the world.
Mrs Oak. I have not merited this kindness, Maj. Joy, much joy to you both! though, by but it shall, hereafter, be my study to deserve it. the bý, you are not a little obliged to me for it. Away with all idle jealousies! And since my Did not I tell you I would cure all the disorders suspicions have hitherto been groundless, I am in your family? I beg pardon, sister, for taking resolved for the future never to suspect at all. the liberty to prescribe for you. My medicines
[Ereunt omnes. have been somewhat rough, I believe, but they
Scene—A garden belonging to Sir John DORILANT's house in the country, with an arbour, gar
А С ТІ.
SCENE I.-A garden.
Mode. And am not I here now, expressly to
marry you? Enter ARAMINTA with an affected carelessness,
Ara. Why, that, too, is true-but-you are in and knotting ; MODELY following. love with Cælia. Mode. But, madam!
Mode. Bless me, madam, what can I say to dra. But, sic ! what can possibly have alarm you? If it had not been for my attendance upon ed you thus? You see me quite unconcerned. I you, I had never known Cælia, or her mother only tell you in a plain, siinple, narrative manner either—though they are both my relations. The -this plaguy thread)—and merely by way of mother has since indeed put some kind of conficonversation, that you are in love with Cælia; dence in me-she is a widow, you know and where is the mighty harm in all this?
Ara. And wants consolation! The poor orJlode. The harm in it, madam! have I not phan, too, her daughter !-Well, charity is an told you a thousand and a thousand times, that excellent virtue. I never considered it in that you were the only woman who could possibly light before. You are vastly charitable, Mr make me happy?
Modely. Ara. Why, aye, to be sure you have, and Mode. It is impossible to talk with you.—If sworn a thousand and a thousand oaths to con you will not do me justice, do it to yourself, at firm that assertion.
least. Is there any comparison betwixt you and
Cælia? Could any man of sense hesitate a mo- for the future, and act the lover to Araminta ten ment? She has yet no character. One does not times stronger than ever. One would not give know what she is, or what she will be; a chit- her up till one was sure of succeeding in the a green girl of fourteen or fifteen.
other place. Ara. Seventeen, at least. -(I cannot undo this knot.)
Enter Belmour from behind, with a book in his Would
hand. Mode. Well, let her be seventeen. any man of judgment attach himself to a girl of Bel. Ha, ha, ha! Well said, Modely! that age
? On my soul, if one was to make love Mod. (Starting.] Belmour !-how the deuce to her, she would hardly understand what one came you here?
Bel. How came I here !--llow came you here, Ara. Girls are not quite so ignorant as you if you come to that? A man can't retire from may iinagine, Mr Modely; Cælia will understand the noise and bustle of the world, to admire the you, take my word for it, and does understand beauties of the spring, and read pastoral in an you. As to your men of judgment and sense, arbour, but iinpertinent lovers must disturb his here is my brother, now ;-I take him to be full meditations. Thou art the arrantest hypocrite, as reasonable as yourself, and somewhat older; Modely--
[Throwing away the book. and yet, with all his philosophy, he has brought Mod. Hypocrite !---My dear friend, we men of himself to a determination at last, to fulfil the gallantry must be so. But have a care! we may father's will, and marry this green girl. I am have other listeners for aught I know, who may sorry to tell you so, Mr Modely, but he will cer not be so proper for confidants. [Looking about. tainly marry ber.
Bel. You may be easy on that head. We have Mode. Let him marry her. I should perhaps the garden to ourselves. The widow and her do it myself, if I was in his place. He was an daughter are just gone in, and sir John is busy intimate friend of her father's. She is a great with his steward. fortune, and was given to him by will. But do Mod. The widow, and her daughter! Why, you imagine, my dear Araminta, that if he was were they in the garden? left to his own choice, without any bias, he would Bel. They just came into it; but upon seeing not rather have a woman neares his own years? you and Araminta together, they turned back He might almost be her father.
again. Ara. That is true. But you will find it diffi Mode. On seeing me and Araminta ! I hope I cult to persuade me, that youth in a woman is so have no jealousies there, too. However, I am insurmountable an objection. I fancy, Mr Mode- glad Cæliä knows I am in the garden, because it
may be got over. Suppose I leave you to may probably induce her to fall in my way---by think of it.-(I cannot get this right.) [Going. chance, you know, and give me an opportunity
Mode. Stay, dear Araminta! why will you of talking to her. plague me thus? Your own charms, my earnest Bel. Do you think she likes you? ness, might prove to you
Node. She does not know what she does. Ára. I tell you I don't want proofs.
Bel. Do you like her? Mode. Well, well, you shall have none, then. Node. W'hy, faith, I think I do. But give me leave to hope, since you have done Bel. Why, then, do you pursue your affair me the honour to be a little uneasy on my ac with Araminta ; and not find some honourable
means of breaking off with her? Ara. Uneasy S I uneasy! What does the man Mode. That might not be quite so expedient. mean?-I was a little concerned, indeed, to give I think Araminta the finest woman, and Cælia you uneasiness by informing you of my brother's the prettiest girl, I know. Now, they are both intended marriage with Cælia. But-this shut- good fortunes, and one of them I am resolved to tle bends so abominably.--[Aside.]
have, but whichMode. Thou perplexing tyrant! Nay, you
shall Bel. Your great wisdomn has not yet deternot go. May I continue to adore you? you must mined. Thou art undoubtedly the vainest fellow not forbid me that.
living. I thought you brought me down here now Ara. For my part, I neither command nor to your wedding? forbid any thing. Only this I would have you Mode. 'Egad, I thought so, too ; but this remember, I have quick eyes. Your servant. plaguy little rustic has disconcerted all my schemes. I wish this knotting had never come in fashion. Sir John, you know, by her father's will, inay [Aside.]
[Exit Ara. marry her if he pleases, and she forfeits her esMode. Quick eyes, indeed! I thought iny cun tate if she marries any one else. Now, I amn ning here had been a master-piece. The girl contriving to bring it about, that I may get her, cannot have told, sure! and the mother is en and her fortune, too. tirely on my side. They certainly were those in Bel. A very likely business, truly. So you quisitive eyes she speaks of, which have found modestly expect that sir John Dorilant should out this secret. Well, I must be more cautious give up his mistress, and then throw her fortune
into the bargain, as an additional reward to the Mode. You will have an admirable opportuniobliging man who has seduced her from him? ty to-night: we are to have the fiddles, you know,
Młode. Hum! why, I don't expect quite that and you may dance with her. But, you know, Belmour, he is a man of honour, and would not force her inclinations, though he
When music softens, and when dancing fires ! loved her to distraction.-Come, come, he is Eh! Bellmour? quite a different creature from what you and I Bel. You are vastly kind to sir John, and
would ease him, I find, of both his mistresses. Bel
. Speak for yourself, good sir; yet, why But, suppose this man of honour should be fool should you imagine that her inclinations are not enough to resign his mistress, may not another as likely to fix upon him as you? He has a good kind of honour oblige him to run you through the person, and is scarce older than yourself. body for deserting his sister?
Mode. That shews your ignorance; I am ten Mode. Why, faith, it may. However, it is not years younger than he is. My dress, and the the first duel I have fought on such an occasion ; coinpany I keep, give a youth and vivacity to me, so I am his man. Not that it is impossible but which he must always want. An't I a man of he may have scruples there, too. the town? O that town, Belmour! Could I but Bel. You don't think him a coward? have met these ladies there, I had done the busi Mode. I know he is not. But your reasoning
men have strange distinctions. They are quite Bel. Were they never there?
different creatures, as I told you, from you and Mode. Never. -Sir Harry Beverley, the father of this girl, lived always in the country, and di Bel. You are pleased to compliment. But, vided his time between his books and his hounds. suppose now, as irrational as you think me, I His wife and daughter seldom mixed with people should find out a means to make this whole afof their own rank, but at a horse-race, or a rural fair easy to you? visit. And see the effects! The girl, though she Mode. How do you mean? is naturally genteel, has an air of simplicity. Bel. Not by attacking the widow, but by Bel. But does not want sense.
making my addresses, in good earnest, to AraMode. No, no! She has a devilish deal of that minta. kind of sense, which is acquired by early reading. Mode. I forbid that absolutely. I have heard her talk occasionally, like a queen Bel. What, do you think it possible I should in a tragedy; or, at least, like a sentimental lady succeed after the accomplished 'Mr Modely? in a comedy, much above your misses of thirty in Mode. Why, faith, between you and me, I town, I assure you. As to the mother-but she think not; but I don't chuse to hazard it. is a character, and explains herself.
Bel. Then you love her still? Bel. Yes, yes; I have read her. But pray, Mlode, I confess it. how came it to pass, that the father, who was of Bel. And it is nothing upon earth but that ina different way of thinking in regard to party, satiable vanity of yours, with a little tincture of should have left sir John guardian to his daugh- avarice, that leads you a gadding thus ? ter, with the additional clause, too, of her being Mlode. I plead guilty. But, be it as it will, I obliged to marry him?
am determined to pursue my point. And see, Mode. Why, that is somewhat surprising. But where the little rogue comes most opportunely. the truth of the case was, they were thoroughly I told you she would be here. Go, go, Belmour acquainted, and each considered party as the you must not listen to all my love scenes.-forble of the other. Sir Harry thought a good [Erit Be..]—Now for a serious face, a little uphusband his daughter's best security for happi- on the tragic; young girls are mighty fond of ness; and he knew it was impossible sir John despairing lovers. Dorilant should prove a bad one. Bel . And yet this prospect of happiness would
Enter CÆLIA. you destroy?
Celia. [With an affected surprise.]—Mr ModeMode. No, no; I only see farther than sirly !-Are you here?-I am come to meet my Harry did, and would increase that happiness, by mamma–did not think to meet
here. giving her a better husband.
Mode. Are you sorry to find me here, maBel. Oh! your bumble servant, sir.
dam? Mode. Besides, the mother is entirely in my Celia. Why should I be sorry, Mr Modely? interest, and, by the by, bas a hankering after Mode. May I hope you are pleased with it? sir John herself.' He is a sober man, and should Celia. I have no dislike to company. have a woman of discretion for his wife; not a Mode. But is all company alike? Surely one loydening girl. 'Egad, Belmour, suppose you at would choose one's companions. Would it have tacked the widow the woman is young enough, been the same thing to you, if you had met sir and has an excellent jointure.
John Dorilant here? Bel. And so become your father-in-law? Celia. I should be very ungrateful, if I did not