Char. I am afraid, then, you'll never make yourself understood by her. Cha. It is not fit I should; there is no need of love to make me miserable; 'tis wretchedness enough to be a beggar. Cha. Pooh! pooh! all this is nothing; don't I know you never play? Char. You mistake; I have a spirit to set not only this trifle, but my whole fortune, upon a stake; therefore, make no wry faces, but do as Char. A beggar, do you call yourself? OI bid you: you will find Mr Stockwell à very ho Charles, Charles! rich in every merit and accom- nourable gentleman. plishment, whom may you not aspire to? And why think you so unworthily of our sex, as to conclude there is not one to be found with sense to discern your virtue, and generosity to reward it? Char. O, Charles! give me your hand: if I have offended you, I ask your pardon: you have been long acquainted with my temper, and know how to bear with its infirmities. Cha. Thus, my dear Charlotte, let us seal our reconciliation. [Kissing her hand.] Bear with thy infirmities! By Heaven, I know not any one failing in thy whole composition, except that of too great a partiality for an undeserving man. Char. And you are now taking the very course to augment that failing. A thought strikes me : I have a commission that you must absolutely execute for me; I have immediate occasion for the sum of two hundred pounds: you know my fortune is shut up till I am of age; take this paltry box (it contains my ear-rings, and some other baubles I have no use for), carry it to our opposite neighbour, Mr Stockwell (I don't know where else to apply), leave it as a deposit in his hands, and beg him to accommodate me with that sum. Cha. Dear Charlotte, what are you about to do? How can you possibly want two hundred pounds? Char. How can I possibly do without it, you mean? Doesn't every lady want two hundred pounds? Perhaps, I have lost it at play; perhaps, I mean to win as much to it; perhaps, I want it for two hundred different uses. Enter Lucy in haste. Lucy. Dear madam, as I live, here comes the old lady in a hackney-coach. Char. The old chariot has given her a second tumble: away with you! you know your way out without meeting her: take the box, and do as I desire you. Cha. I must not dispute your orders. Fare well! never O'Fla. Rest yourself upon my arm; spare it; 'tis strong enough: it has stood harder service than you can put it to. Lucy. Mercy upon me, what is the matter! I am frightened out of my wits: has your ladyship had an accident? Lady Rus. O, Lucy! the most untoward one in nature! I know not how I shall repair it. O'Fla. Never go about to repair it, my lady; even build a new one; 'twas but a crazy piece of business at best. Lucy. Bless me! is the old chariot broke down with you again? Lady Rus. Broke, child? I don't know what might have been broke, if, by great good fortune, this obliging gentleman had not been at hand to assist me. Lucy. Dear madam, let me run and fetch a cup of the cordial drops. you Lady Rus. Do, Lucy. Alas, sir! ever since I lost my husband, my poor nerves have been shook to pieces: there hangs his beloved picture: that precious relic, and a plentiful jointure, is all that remains to console me for the best of men. O'Fla. Let me see: i'faith a comely personage! by his fur cloak, I suppose he was in the Russian service; and, by the gold chain round his neck, I should guess he had been honoured with the order of St Catharine. Lady Rus. No, no; he meddled with no St Catharines: that's the habit he wore in his mayoralty; sir Stephen was lord-mayor of London: but he is gone, and has left me a poor, weak, solitary widow behind him. O'Fla. By all means, then, take a strong, able, hearty man to repair his loss. If such a plain fellow as one Dennis O'Flaherty can please you I think I may venture to say, without any dis paragement to the gentleman in the fur-gown there Lady Rus. What are you going to say? Don't shock my ears with any comparisons, I desire. O'Fla. Not I, by my soul! I don't believe there's any comparison in the case. Lady Rus. Oh, are you come? Give me the drops; I'm all in a flutter! O'Fla. Hark'e, sweetheart, what are those same drops? have you any more left in the bottle? I didn't care if I took a little sip of them myself. Lucy. Oh, sir, they are called the cordial restorative elixir, or the nervous golden drops; they are only for ladies' cases. O'Fla. Yes, yes, my dear, there are gentlemen as well as ladies that stand in need of those same golden drops: they'd suit my case to a tittle. [Drinks. Lady Rus. Well, major, did you give old Dudley my letter? and will the silly man do as I bid him, and be gone? O'Fla. You are obeyed; he's on his march. Lady Rus. That's well; you have managed this matter to perfection. I did'nt think he would have been so easily prevailed upon. O'Fla. At the first word; no difficulty in life; 'twas the very thing he was determined to do, before I came: I never met a more obliging gen tleman. Lady Rus. Well, 'tis no matter; so I am but rid of him, and his distresses: would you believe it, major O'Flaherty, it was but this morning he sent a-begging to me for money to fit him out upon some wild-goose expedition to the coast of Africa, I know not where? O'Fla. Well, you sent him what he wanted? Lady Rus. I sent him what he deserved, a flat refusal. O'Fla. You refused him? O'Fla. Good morning to you-Your servant[Going. Lady Rus. Hey-day! what ails the man? where are you going? O'Fla. Out of your house, before the roof falls on my head-to poor Dudley, to share the little modicum that thirty years hard service has left me. I wish it was more for his sake. Lady Rus. Very well, sir; take your course; I shan't attempt to stop you: I shall survive it; it will not break my heart, if I never see you more. O'Fla. Break your heart! No, o' my conscience will it not. You preach, and you pray, and you turn up your eyes, and all the while you're as hard-hearted as an hyena! An hyena, truly! By my soul, there isn't, in the whole creation, so savage an anima! as a human creature without pity! [Exit. Lady Rus. A hyena, truly! Where did the fellow blunder upon that word? Now the deuce take him for using it, and the Macaronies for inventing it! [Exit. ACT III SCENE I-A room in STOCKWELL'S house. Enter STOCKWELL and BELCOur. Stock. GRATIFY me so far, however, Mr Belcour, as to see Miss Rusports carry her the sum she wants, and return the poor girl her box of diamonds, which Dudley left in my hands; you know what to say on the occasion better than I do that part of your commission I leave to your own discretion, and you may season it with what gallantry you think fit. : marry, it must be a staid, sober, considerate damsel, with blood in her veins as cold as a turtle's; quick of scent as a vulture, when danger's in the wind; wary and sharp-sighted as a hawk, when treachery is on foot: with such a companion at my elbow, for ever whispering in my ear-have a care of this man, he's a cheat! don't go near that woman, she's a jilt! over head there's a scaffold! under foot there's a well! Oh! sir, such a woman might lead me up and down this great city without difficulty or danger; but, with a girl of Miss Rusport's complexion! heaven and earth, sir! we should be duped, undone, and distracted, in a fortnight. Bel. You could not have pitched upon a greater bungler at gallantry than myself, if you had rummaged every company in the city, and the whole court of aldermen into the bargain. Part of your Stock. Ha, ha, ha! Why, you are become wonerrand, however, I will do; but whether it shall drous circumspect of a sudden, pupil; and if you be with an ill grace or a good one, depends upon can find such a prudent damsel as you describe, the caprice of a moment, the humour of the la- you have my consent-only beware how you dy, the mode of our meeting, and a thousand un-chuse! Discretion is not the reigning quality definable small circumstances, that nevertheless amongst the fine ladies of the present time; and determine us upon all the great occasions of life. I think, in Miss Rusport's particular, I have given Stock. I persuade myself you will find Miss you no bad counsel. Rusport an ingenious, worthy, animated girl. Bel. Why, I like her the better, as a woman; but name her not to me as a wife! No, if ever I Bel. Well, well, if you'll fetch me the jewels, I believe I can undertake to carry them to her; but as for the money, I'll have nothing to do with that; Dudley would be your fittest ambassador | us, 'tis true; but we are the responsible creators on that occasion, and, if I mistake not, the most of our own faults and follies. agreeable to the lady. Bel. Sir! Stock. Why, indeed, from what I know of the matter, it may not improbably be destined to find its way into his pockets. [Exit. Bel. Then, depend upon it, these are not the only trinkets she means to dedicate to captain Dudley. As for me, Stockwell indeed wants me to marry; but till I can get this bewitching girl, this incognita, out of my head, I can never think of any other woman. Enter Servant, and delivers a letter. Hey-day! Where can I have picked up a correspondent already! 'Tis a most execrable manuscript-Let me see-Martha Fulmer-Who is Martha Fulmer? Pshaw! I won't be at the trouble of decyphering her damned pot-hooks. Hold, hold, hold! what have we got here? 'Dear sir, 'I've discovered the lady you was so much smitten with, and can procure you an interview 'with her. If you can be as generous to a pretty girl, as you was to a paltry old captain,'-how did she find that out! you need not despair. Come to ne iminediately; the lady is now in my 'house, and expects you. Yours, MARTHA FULMER.' Stock. Slave of every face you meet, some hussy has inveigled you, some handsome profligate (the town is full of them); and, when once fairly bankrupt in constitution, as well as fortune, nature no longer serves as your excuse for being vicious, necessity, perhaps, will stand your friend, and you'll reform. Bel. You are severe. Stock. It fits me to be so-it well becomes a father I would say a friend-How strangely I forget myself—How difficult it is to counterfeit indifference, and put a mask upon the heart! -I've struck him hard; he reddens ! Bel. How could you tempt me so? Had you not inadvertently dropped the name of father, I fear our friendship, short as it has been, would scarce have held me-- -But even your mistake I reverence Give me your hand-'tis over. Stock. Generous young man !-let me embrace you-How shall I hide my tears? I have been to blame; because I bore you the affection of a father, I rashly took up the authority of one. I ask your pardon- -pursue your course; I have no right to stop it- -What would you have me do with these things? Bel. This, if I might advise; carry the money to Miss Rusport immediately: never let generosity wait for its materials; that part of the business presses. Give me the jewels; I'll find an O thou dear, lovely, and enchanting paper, opportunity of delivering them into her hands; which I was about to tear into a thousand scraps, and your visit may pave the way for my recepdevoutly I entreat thy pardon! I have slighted tion. [Exit. thy contents, which are delicious; slandered thy Stock. Be it so: good morning to you. Farecharacters, which are divine; and all the atone-well advice! Away goes he upon the wing for ment I can make, is implicitly to obey thy man- pleasure! What various passions he awakens in dates. ine! He pains, yet pleases me; affrights, offends, yet grows upon my heart. His very failings set him off-for ever trespassing, for ever atoning, I almost think he would not be so perfect, were he free from fault: I must dissemble longer; and yet how painful the experiment!-Even now he's gone upon some wild adventure; and who can tell what mischief may befal him? O nature, what it is to be a father! Just such a thoughtless headlong thing was I, when I beguiled his mother into love. [Exit. STOCKWELL returns. Stock. Mr Belcour, here are the jewels; this letter incloses bills for the money; and, if you will deliver it to Miss Rusport, you'll have no farther trouble on that score. Bel. Ah, sir! the letter which I have been reading disqualifies me for delivering the letter which you have been writing. I have other game on foot; the loveliest girl my eyes ever feasted upon, is started in view, and the world cannot now divert me from pursuing her. Stock. Hey-day! what has turned you thus on ,a sudden? SCENE II.-Changes to FULMER's house. Enter FULMER and his wife. Ful. I tell you, Patty, you are a fool to think of bringing him and Miss Dudley together; 'twill ruin every thing, and blow your whole scheme up to the moon at once. Bel. A woman: one that can turn, and overturn me and my tottering resolutions every way she will. Ob, sir, if this is folly in me, you must rail at nature: you must chide the sun, that was vertical at my birth, and would not wink upon my Mrs Ful. Why, sure, Mr Fulmer, I may be nakedness, but swaddled me in the broadest, hot-allowed to rear a chicken of my own hatching, test glare of his meridian beams. as they say! Who first sprung the thought but I, pray? Who first contrived the plot? Who proposed the letter, but I, I? 6 A Stock. Mere rhapsody! mere childish rhapsody! the libertine's familiar plea-Nature made VOL. II Ful. And who dogged the gentleman home? Bel. That's true: she cannot be a woman of Who found out his name, fortune, connexions; honour; and Dudley is an unconscionable young that he was a West Indian, fresh landed, and full rogue to think of keeping one fine girl in pay, by of cash; a gull to our heart's content; a hot-raising contributions on another: he shall therebrained, head-long spark, that would run into our fore give her up; she is a dear, bewitching, mistrap, like a wheat-ear under a turf? chievous, little devil; and he shall positively give Mrs Ful. Hark! he's come! disappear, march, her up. and leave the field open to my machinations. [Exit FULMER. Enter BELCOUR. Bel. O, thou dear minister to my happiness, let me embrace thee! Why, thou art my polar star, my propitious constellation, by which I navigate my impatient bark into the port of pleasure and delight! Mrs Ful. Oh, you men are sly creatures! Do you remember now, you cruel, what you said to me this morning? Bel. All a jest, a frolic; never think on't; bury it for ever in oblivion. Thou! why, thou art all over nectar and ambrosia, powder of pearl and odour of roses; thou hast the youth of Hebe, the beauty of Venus, and the pen of Sappho! But, in the name of all that's lovely, where's the lady? I expected to find her with you. Mrs Ful. No doubt you did; and these raptures were designed for her; but where have you loitered? the lady's gone; you are too late. Girls of her sort are not to be kept waiting, like negro slaves in your sugar plantations. Bel. Gone! whither is she gone? tell me, that I may follow her. Mrs Ful. Hold, hold! not so fast, young gentleman; this is a case of some delicacy; should captain Dudley know that I introduced you to his daughter, he is a man of such scrupulous ho nour Bel. What do you tell me! is she daughter to the old gentleman I met here this morning? Mrs Ful. The same; him you was so generous to. Bel. There's an end of the matter, then, at once ; it shall never be said of me, that I took advantage of the father's necessities to trepan the daughter. [Going. Mrs Ful. So, so, I've made a wrong cast; he's one of your conscientious sinners, I find; but I won't lose him thus-Ha, ha, ha! Bel. What is it you laugh at? Mrs Ful. Your absolute inexperience: have you lived so very little time in this country, as not to know, that, between young people of equal ages, the term of sister often is a cover for that of mistress? This young lady is, in that sense of the word, sister to young Dudley, and consequently daughter to my old lodger. Bel. Indeed! are you serious? Mrs Ful. Can you doubt it! I must have been pretty well assured of that before I invited you hither. Mrs Ful. Ay, now the freak has taken you again! I say, give her up!—there's one way, indeed, and certain of success. Bel. What's that? Mrs Ful. Out-bid him; never dream of outblustering him; buy out his lease of possession, and leave her to manage his ejectment. Bel. Is she so venal? Never fear me then : when beauty is the purchase, I shan't think much of the price. Mrs Ful. All things, then, will be made easy enough: let me see; some little genteel present to begin with what have you got about you? Ay, search; I can bestow it to advantage; there's no time to be lost. : Bel. Hang it confound it; a plague upon't, say I! I hav'n't a guinea left in iny pocket; I parted from my whole stock here this morning, and have forgot to supply myself since. Mrs Ful. Mighty well! let it pass; there's an end; think no more of the lady, that's all. Bel. Distraction! think no more of her? Let me only step home, and provide myself, I'll be back with you in an instant. Mrs Ful. Pooh, pooh! that's a wretched shift: have you nothing of value about you? Money's a coarse, slovenly vehicle, fit only to bribe electors in a borough; there are more graceful ways of purchasing a lady's favours; rings, trinkets, jewels! Bel. Jewels! Gadso, I protest I had forgot! I have a case of jewels-but they won't do, I must not part from them: no, no; they are appropriated; they are none of my own. Mrs Ful. Let me see, let me see! Ay, now, this were something-like :——— -pretty creatures, how they sparkle! these would ensure success. Bel. Indeed! Mrs Ful. These would make her your own for ever. Bel. Then, the deuce take them for belonging to another person! I could find in my heart to give them the girl, and swear I've lost them. Mrs Ful. Ay, do; say they were stolen out of your pocket. Bel. No, hang it, that's dishonourable here, give me the paltry things; I'll give you an order on my merchant for double their value. Mrs Ful. An order! No; order me no orders upon merchants, with their value received, and three days grace; their noting, protesting, and indorsing, and all their counting-house formalities; I'll have nothing to do with them: leave your diamonds with me, and give your or der for the value of them to the owner: the mo ney would be as good as the trinkets, I warrant you. Bel. Hey! how! I never thought of that: but a breach of trust-'tis impossible; I never can consent; therefore, give me the jewels back again. Mrs Ful. Take them: I am now to tell you the lady is in this house. Bel. In this house! Mrs Ful. Yes, sir, in this very house-but what of that? You have got what you like better your toys, your trinkets. Go, go! oh! you're a man of a notable spirit, are you not? Bel. Provoking creature! bring me to the sight of the dear creature, and dispose of me as you think fit. Mrs Ful. And of the diamonds, too? Bel. Damn them! I would there was not such a bauble in nature! But come, come, dispatch: if I had the throne of Delhi, I should give it to her. Mrs Ful. Swear to me, then, that you will keep within bounds-remember, she passes for the sister of young Dudley. Oh! if you come to your flights and your rhapsodies, she'll be off in an instant. Bel. Never fear me. Mrs Ful. You must expect to hear her talk of her father, as she calls him, and her brother, and your bounty to her family. Bel. Ay, ay; never mind what she talks of, only bring her. Mrs Ful. You'll be prepared upon that head? Bel. I shall be prepared, never fear: away with you! Mrs Ful. But hold! I had forgot: not a word of the diamonds-leave that matter to my management. Bel. Hell and vexation! Get out of the room, or I shall run distracted. [Erit MRS FULMER.] Of a certain, Belcour, thou art born to be the fool of woman: sure no man sins with so much repentance, or repents with so little amendment, as I do. I cannot give away another person's property-honour forbids me and I positively cannot give up the girl-love, passion, constitution-every thing protests against that. How shall I decide? I cannot bring myself to break a trust; and I am not at present in the humour to baulk my inclination. Is there no middle way? Let me consider-There is, there is my good genius has presented me with one-apt, obvious, honourable: the girl shall not go without her baubles I'll not go without the girl-Miss Rusport sha'n't lose her diamonds-I'll save Dudley from destruction and every party shall be a gainer by the project. : Enter MRS FULMER, introducing MISS DUD LEY. Mrs Ful. Miss Dudley, this is the worthy gentleman you wish to see; this is Mr Belcour. Lou. You astonish me! Are you in your senses? or do you make a jest of my misfortunes? Do you ground pretences on your generosity, or do you make a practice of this folly with every woman you meet? Bel. Upon my life, no: as you are the handsomest woman I ever met, so you are the first to whom I ever made the like professions: as for my generosity, madam, I must refer you, on that score, to this good lady, who, I believe, has something to offer in my behalf. Lou. Don't build upon that, sir; I must have better proofs of your generosity, than the mere divestment of a little superfluous dross, before I can credit the sincerity of a profession so abruptly delivered. [Exit hastily. Bel. O ye gods and goddesses! how her anger animates her beauty! [Going out. Mrs Ful. Stay, sir; if you stir a step after her, I renounce your interest for ever: why, you'll ruin every thing! Bel. Well, I must have her, cost what it will: I see she understands her own value, though; a little superfluous dross, truly! She must have better proofs of my generosity! Mrs Ful. 'Tis exactly as I told you-your money she calls dross-she's too proud to stain her fingers with your coin: bate your hook well with jewels-try that experiment, and she's own. your Bel. Take them-let them go-lay them at her feet-I must get out of the scrape as I canmy propensity is irresistible-there-you have them-they are yours-they are hers-but remember they are a trust—I commit them to her |