ACRES [Practising a dancing-step.] Sink, slide—coupee.—Confound the first inventors of cotillions! say I—they are as bad as algebra to us country gentlemen—I can walk a minuet easy enough when I am forced!—and I have been accounted a good stick in a country-dance.—Odds jigs and tabors! I never valued your cross-over to couple—figure in—right and left—and I'd foot it with e'er a captain in the county!—but these outlandish heathen allemandes and cotillions are quite beyond me!—I shall never prosper at 'em, that's sure—mine are true-born English legs—they don't understand their curst French lingo!—their pas this, and pas that, and pas t'other!—damn me! my feet don't like to be called paws! no, 'tis certain I have most Antigallican toes!

[Enter SERVANT.]

SERVANT Here is Sir Lucius O'Trigger to wait on you, sir.

ACRES Show him in.

[Exit SERVANT.]

[Enter Sir LUCIUS O'TRIGGER.]

Sir LUCIUS Mr. Acres, I am delighted to embrace you.

ACRES My dear Sir Lucius, I kiss your hands.

Sir LUCIUS Pray, my friend, what has brought you so suddenly to Bath?

ACRES Faith! I have followed Cupid's Jack-a-lantern, and find myself in a quagmire at last.—In short, I have been very ill used, Sir Lucius.—I don't choose to mention names, but look on me as on a very ill-used gentleman.

Sir LUCIUS Pray what is the case?—I ask no names.

ACRES Mark me, Sir Lucius, I fall as deep as need be in love with a young lady—her friends take my part—I follow her to Bath—send word of my arrival; and receive answer, that the lady is to be otherwise disposed of.—This, Sir Lucius, I call being ill-used.

Sir LUCIUS Very ill, upon my conscience.—Pray, can you divine the cause of it?

ACRES Why, there's the matter; she has another lover, one Beverley, who, I am told, is now in Bath.—Odds slanders and lies! he must be at the bottom of it.

Sir LUCIUS A rival in the case, is there?—and you think he has supplanted you unfairly?

ACRES Unfairly! to be sure he has. He never could have done it fairly.

Sir LUCIUS Then sure you know what is to be done!

ACRES Not I, upon my soul!

Sir LUCIUS We wear no swords here, but you understand me.

ACRES What! fight him!

Sir LUCIUS Ay, to be sure: what can I mean else?

ACRES But he has given me no provocation.

Sir LUCIUS Now, I think he has given you the greatest provocation in the world. Can a man commit a more heinous offence against another than to fall in love with the same woman? Oh, by my soul! it is the most unpardonable breach of friendship.

ACRES Breach of friendship! ay, ay; but I have no acquaintance with this man. I never saw him in my life.

Sir LUCIUS That's no argument at all—he has the less right then to take such a liberty.

ACRES Gad, that's true—I grow full of anger, Sir Lucius!—I fire apace! Odds hilts and blades! I find a man may have a deal of valour in him, and not know it! But couldn't I contrive to have a little right of my side?

Sir LUCIUS What the devil signifies right, when your honour is concerned? Do you think Achilles, or my little Alexander the Great, ever inquired where the right lay? No, by my soul, they drew their broad-swords, and left the lazy sons of peace to settle the justice of it.

ACRES Your words are a grenadier's march to my heart! I believe courage must be catching! I certainly do feel a kind of valour rising as it were—a kind of courage, as I may say.—Odds flints, pans, and triggers! I'll challenge him directly.

Sir LUCIUS Ah, my little friend, if I had Blunderbuss Hall here, I could show you a range of ancestry, in the O'Trigger line, that would furnish the new room; every one of whom had killed his man!—For though the mansion-house and dirty acres have slipped through my fingers, I thank heaven our honour and the family-pictures are as fresh as ever.

ACRES O, Sir Lucius! I have had ancestors too!—every man of 'em colonel or captain in the militia!—Odds balls and barrels! say no more—I'm braced for it. The thunder of your words has soured the milk of human kindness in my breast;—Zounds! as the man in the play says, I could do such deeds!

Sir LUCIUS Come, come, there must be no passion at all in the case—these things should always be done civilly.

ACRES I must be in a passion, Sir Lucius—I must be in a rage.—Dear Sir Lucius, let me be in a rage, if you love me. Come, here's pen and paper.—[Sits down to write.] I would the ink were red!—Indite, I say, indite!—How shall I begin? Odds bullets and blades! I'll write a good bold hand, however.

Sir LUCIUS Pray compose yourself.

ACRES Come—now, shall I begin with an oath? Do, Sir Lucius, let me begin with a damme.

Sir LUCIUS Pho! pho! do the thing decently, and like a Christian. Begin now—Sir ——

ACRES That's too civil by half.

Sir LUCIUS To prevent the confusion that might arise——

ACRES Well——

Sir LUCIUS From our both addressing the same lady——

ACRES Ay, there's the reason—same lady—well——

Sir LUCIUS I shall expect the honour of your company——

ACRES Zounds! I'm not asking him to dinner.

Sir LUCIUS Pray be easy.

ACRES Well, then, honour of your company——

Sir LUCIUS To settle our pretensions——

ACRES Well.

Sir LUCIUS Let me see, ay, King's-Mead-Fields will do—in King's-Mead-Fields.

ACRES So, that's done—Well, I'll fold it up presently; my own crest—a hand and dagger shall be the seal.

Sir LUCIUS You see now this little explanation will put a stop at once to all confusion or misunderstanding that might arise between you.

ACRES Ay, we fight to prevent any misunderstanding.

Sir LUCIUS Now, I'll leave you to fix your own time.—Take my advice, and you'll decide it this evening if you can; then let the worst come of it, 'twill be off your mind to-morrow.

ACRES Very true.

Sir LUCIUS So I shall see nothing of you, unless it be by letter, till the evening.—I would do myself the honour to carry your message; but, to tell you a secret, I believe I shall have just such another affair on my own hands. There is a gay captain here, who put a jest on me lately, at the expense of my country, and I only want to fall in with the gentleman, to call him out.

ACRES By my valour, I should like to see you fight first! Odds life! I should like to see you kill him if it was only to get a little lesson.

Sir LUCIUS I shall be very proud of instructing you.—Well for the present—but remember now, when you meet your antagonist, do every thing in a mild and agreeable manner.—Let your courage be as keen, but at the same time as polished, as your sword.

[Exeunt severally.]

* * * * * * * * * * *

ACT IV

* * * * * * *

Scene I—ACRES' Lodgings. [ACRES and DAVID.]

DAVID Then, by the mass, sir! I would do no such thing—ne'er a Sir Lucius O'Trigger in the kingdom should make me fight, when I wasn't so minded. Oons! what will the old lady say, when she hears o't?

ACRES Ah! David, if you had heard Sir Lucius!—Odds sparks and flames! he would have roused your valour.

DAVID Not he, indeed. I hate such bloodthirsty cormorants. Look'ee, master, if you wanted a bout at boxing, quarter staff, or short-staff, I should never be the man to bid you cry off: but for your curst sharps and snaps, I never knew any good come of 'em.

ACRES But my honour, David, my honour! I must be very careful of my honour.

DAVID Ay, by the mass! and I would be very careful of it; and I think in return my honour couldn't do less than to be very careful of me.

ACRES Odds blades! David, no gentleman will ever risk the loss of his honour!

DAVID I say then, it would be but civil in honour never to risk the loss of a gentleman.—Look'ee, master, this honour seems to me to be a marvellous false friend: ay, truly, a very courtier-like servant.—Put the case, I was a gentleman (which, thank God, no one can say of me;) well—my honour makes me quarrel with another gentleman of my acquaintance.—So—we fight. (Pleasant enough that!) Boh!—I kill him—(the more's my luck!) now, pray who gets the profit of it?—Why, my honour. But put the case that he kills me!—by the mass! I go to the worms, and my honour whips over to my enemy.

ACRES No, David—in that case!—odds crowns and laurels! your honour follows you to the grave.

DAVID Now, that's just the place where I could make a shift to do without it.

ACRES Zounds! David, you are a coward!—It doesn't become my valour to listen to you.—What, shall I disgrace my ancestors?—Think of that, David—think what it would be to disgrace my ancestors!

DAVID Under favour, the surest way of not disgracing them, is to keep as long as you can out of their company. Look'ee now, master, to go to them in such haste—with an ounce of lead in your brains—I should think might as well be let alone. Our ancestors are very good kind of folks; but they are the last people I should choose to have a visiting acquaintance with.

ACRES But, David, now, you don't think there is such very, very, very great danger, hey?—Odds life! people often fight without any mischief done!

DAVID By the mass, I think 'tis ten to one against you!—Oons! here to meet some lion-headed fellow, I warrant, with his damned double-barrelled swords, and cut-and-thrust pistols!—Lord bless us! it makes me tremble to think o't—Those be such desperate bloody-minded weapons! Well, I never could abide 'em!—from a child I never could fancy 'em!—I suppose there an't been so merciless a beast in the world as your loaded pistol!

ACRES Zounds! I won't be afraid!—Odds fire and fury! you shan't make me afraid.—Here is the challenge, and I have sent for my dear friend Jack Absolute to carry it for me.

DAVID Ay, i' the name of mischief, let him be the messenger.—For my part I wouldn't lend a hand to it for the best horse in your stable. By the mass! it don't look like another letter! It is, as I may say, a designing and malicious-looking letter; and I warrant smells of gunpowder like a soldier's pouch!—Oons! I wouldn't swear it mayn't go off!

ACRES Out, you poltroon! you ha'n't the valour of a grasshopper.

DAVID Well, I say no more—'twill be sad news, to be sure, at Clod-Hall! but I ha' done.—How Phillis will howl when she hears of it!—Ay, poor bitch, she little thinks what shooting her master's going after! And I warrant old Crop, who has carried your honour, field and road, these ten years, will curse the hour he was born. [Whimpering.]

ACRES It won't do, David—I am determined to fight—so get along you coward, while I'm in the mind.

[Enter SERVANT.]

SERVANT Captain Absolute, sir.

ACRES Oh! show him up.

[Exit SERVANT.]

DAVID Well, Heaven send we be all alive this time to-morrow.

ACRES What's that?—Don't provoke me, David!

DAVID Good-bye, master. [Whimpering.]

ACRES Get along, you cowardly, dastardly, croaking raven!

[Exit DAVID.]

[Enter CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE.]

ABSOLUTE What's the matter, Bob?

ACRES A vile, sheep-hearted blockhead! If I hadn't the valour of St. George and the dragon to boot——

ABSOLUTE But what did you want with me, Bob?

ACRES Oh!—There—— [Gives him the challenge.]

ABSOLUTE [Aside.] To Ensign Beverley.—So, what's going on now?—[Aloud.] Well, what's this?

ACRES A challenge!

ABSOLUTE Indeed! Why, you won't fight him; will you, Bob?

ACRES Egad, but I will, Jack. Sir Lucius has wrought me to it. He has left me full of rage—and I'll fight this evening, that so much good passion mayn't be wasted.

ABSOLUTE But what have I to do with this?

ACRES Why, as I think you know something of this fellow, I want you to find him out for me, and give him this mortal defiance.

ABSOLUTE Well, give it to me, and trust me he gets it.

ACRES Thank you, my dear friend, my dear Jack; but it is giving you a great deal of trouble.

ABSOLUTE Not in the least—I beg you won't mention it.—No trouble in the world, I assure you.

ACRES You are very kind.—What it is to have a friend!—You couldn't be my second, could you, Jack?

ABSOLUTE Why no, Bob—not in this affair—it would not be quite so proper.

ACRES Well, then, I must get my friend Sir Lucius. I shall have your good wishes, however, Jack?

ABSOLUTE Whenever he meets you, believe me.

[Re-enter SERVANT.]

SERVANT Sir Anthony Absolute is below, inquiring for the captain.

ABSOLUTE I'll come instantly.——

[Exit SERVANT.]

Well, my little hero, success attend you. [Going.]

ACRES ——Stay—stay, Jack.—If Beverley should ask you what kind of a man your friend Acres is, do tell him I am a devil of a fellow—will you, Jack?

ABSOLUTE To be sure I shall. I'll say you are a determined dog—hey, Bob!

ACRES Ah, do, do—and if that frightens him, egad, perhaps he mayn't come. So tell him I generally kill a man a week; will you, Jack?

ABSOLUTE I will, I will; I'll say you are called in the country Fighting Bob.

ACRES Right—right—'tis all to prevent mischief; for I don't want to take his life if I clear my honour.

ABSOLUTE No!—that's very kind of you.

ACRES Why, you don't wish me to kill him—do you, Jack?

ABSOLUTE No, upon my soul, I do not. But a devil of a fellow, hey? [Going.]

ACRES True, true—but stay—stay, Jack—you may add, that you never saw me in such a rage before—a most devouring rage!

ABSOLUTE I will, I will.

ACRES Remember, Jack—a determined dog!

ABSOLUTE Ay, ay, Fighting Bob!

[Exeunt severally.]

* * * * * * *

Scene II—Mrs. MALAPROP's Lodgings. [Mrs. MALAPROP and LYDIA.]

Mrs. MALAPROP Why, thou perverse one!—tell me what you can object to him? Isn't he a handsome man?—tell me that. A genteel man? a pretty figure of a man?

LYDIA [Aside.] She little thinks whom she is praising!—[Aloud.] So is Beverley, ma'am.

Mrs. MALAPROP No caparisons, miss, if you please. Caparisons don't become a young woman. No! Captain Absolute is indeed a fine gentleman!

LYDIA [Aside.] Ay, the Captain Absolute you have seen.

Mrs. MALAPROP Then he's so well bred;—so full of alacrity, and adulation!—and has so much to say for himself:—in such good language, too! His physiognomy so grammatical! Then his presence is so noble! I protest, when I saw him, I thought of what Hamlet says in the play:— "Hesperian curls—the front of Job himself!— An eye, like March, to threaten at command!— A station, like Harry Mercury, new——" Something about kissing—on a hill—however, the similitude struck me directly.

LYDIA [Aside.] How enraged she'll be presently, when she discovers her mistake!

[Enter SERVANT.]

SERVANT Sir Anthony and Captain Absolute are below, ma'am.

Mrs. MALAPROP Show them up here.——

[Exit SERVANT.]

Now, Lydia, I insist on your behaving as becomes a young woman. Show your good breeding, at least, though you have forgot your duty.

LYDIA Madam, I have told you my resolution!—I shall not only give him no encouragement, but I won't even speak to, or look at him. [Flings herself into a chair, with her face from the door.]

[Enter Sir ANTHONY ABSOLUTE and CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE.]

Sir ANTHONY Here we are, Mrs. Malaprop; come to mitigate the frowns of unrelenting beauty,—and difficulty enough I had to bring this fellow.—I don't know what's the matter; but if I had not held him by force, he'd have given me the slip.

Mrs. MALAPROP You have infinite trouble, Sir Anthony, in the affair. I am ashamed for the cause!—[Aside to LYDIA.] Lydia, Lydia, rise, I beseech you!—pay your respects!

Sir ANTHONY I hope, madam, that Miss Languish has reflected on the worth of this gentleman, and the regard due to her aunt's choice, and my alliance.—[Aside to CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE.] Now, Jack, speak to her.

ABSOLUTE [Aside.] What the devil shall I do!—[Aside to Sir ANTHONY.] You see, sir, she won't even look at me whilst you are here. I knew she wouldn't! I told you so. Let me entreat you, sir, to leave us together! [Seems to expostulate with his father.]

LYDIA [Aside.] I wonder I ha'n't heard my aunt exclaim yet! sure she can't have looked at him!—perhaps the regimentals are alike, and she is something blind.

Sir ANTHONY I say, sir, I won't stir a foot yet!

Mrs. MALAPROP I am sorry to say, Sir Anthony, that my affluence over my niece is very small.—[Aside to LYDIA.] Turn round, Lydia: I blush for you!

Sir ANTHONY May I not flatter myself, that Miss Languish will assign what cause of dislike she can have to my son!—[Aside to CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE.] Why don't you begin, Jack?—Speak, you puppy—speak!

Mrs. MALAPROP It is impossible, Sir Anthony, she can have any. She will not say she has.—[Aside to LYDIA.] Answer, hussy! why don't you answer?

Sir ANTHONY Then, madam, I trust that a childish and hasty predilection will be no bar to Jack's happiness.—[Aside to CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE.] Zounds! sirrah! why don't you speak?

LYDIA [Aside.] I think my lover seems as little inclined to conversation as myself.—How strangely blind my aunt must be!

ABSOLUTE Hem! hem! madam—hem!—[Attempts to speak, then returns to Sir ANTHONY.] Faith! sir, I am so confounded!—and—so—so—confused!—I told you I should be so, sir—I knew it.—The—the—tremor of my passion entirely takes away my presence of mind.

Sir ANTHONY But it don't take away your voice, fool, does it?—Go up, and speak to her directly!

[CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE makes signs to Mrs. MALAPROP to leave them together.]

Mrs. MALAPROP Sir Anthony, shall we leave them together?—[Aside to LYDIA.] Ah! you stubborn little vixen!

Sir ANTHONY Not yet, ma'am, not yet!—[Aside to CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE.] What the devil are you at? unlock your jaws, sirrah, or——

ABSOLUTE [Aside.] Now Heaven send she may be too sullen to look round!—I must disguise my voice.—[Draws near LYDIA, and speaks in a low hoarse tone.] Will not Miss Languish lend an ear to the mild accents of true love? Will not——

Sir ANTHONY What the devil ails the fellow? why don't you speak out?—not stand croaking like a frog in a quinsy!

ABSOLUTE The—the—excess of my awe, and my—my—my modesty, quite choke me!

Sir ANTHONY Ah! your modesty again!—I'll tell you what, Jack; if you don't speak out directly, and glibly too, I shall be in such a rage!—Mrs. Malaprop, I wish the lady would favour us with something more than a side-front.

[Mrs. MALAPROP seems to chide LYDIA.]

ABSOLUTE [Aside.] So all will out, I see!—[Goes up to LYDIA, speaks softly.] Be not surprised, my Lydia, suppress all surprise at present.

LYDIA [Aside.] Heavens! 'tis Beverley's voice! Sure he can't have imposed on Sir Anthony too!—[Looks round by degrees, then starts up.] Is this possible!—my Beverley!—how can this be?—my Beverley?

ABSOLUTE [Aside.] Ah! 'tis all over.

Sir ANTHONY Beverley!—the devil—Beverley!—What can the girl mean?—this is my son, Jack Absolute.

Mrs. MALAPROP For shame, hussy! for shame! your head runs so on that fellow, that you have him always in your eyes!—beg Captain Absolute's pardon directly.

LYDIA I see no Captain Absolute, but my loved Beverley!

Sir ANTHONY Zounds! the girl's mad!—her brain's turned by reading.

Mrs. MALAPROP O' my conscience, I believe so!—What do you mean by Beverley, hussy?—You saw Captain Absolute before to-day; there he is—your husband that shall be.

LYDIA With all my soul, ma'am—when I refuse my Beverley——

Sir ANTHONY Oh! she's as mad as Bedlam!—or has this fellow been playing us a rogue's trick!—Come here, sirrah, who the devil are you?

ABSOLUTE Faith, sir, I am not quite clear myself; but I'll endeavour to recollect.

Sir ANTHONY Are you my son or not?—answer for your mother, you dog, if you won't for me.

Mrs. MALAPROP Ay, sir, who are you? O mercy! I begin to suspect!——

ABSOLUTE [Aside.] Ye powers of impudence, befriend me!—[Aloud.] Sir Anthony, most assuredly I am your wife's son: and that I sincerely believe myself to be yours also, I hope my duty has always shown.—Mrs. Malaprop, I am your most respectful admirer, and shall be proud to add affectionate nephew.—I need not tell my Lydia, that she sees her faithful Beverley, who, knowing the singular generosity of her temper, assumed that name and station, which has proved a test of the most disinterested love, which he now hopes to enjoy in a more elevated character.

LYDIA [Sullenly.] So!—there will be no elopement after all!

Sir ANTHONY Upon my soul, Jack, thou art a very impudent fellow! to do you justice, I think I never saw a piece of more consummate assurance!

ABSOLUTE Oh, you flatter me, sir—you compliment—'tis my modesty, you know, sir,—my modesty that has stood in my way.

Sir ANTHONY Well, I am glad you are not the dull, insensible varlet you pretended to be, however!—I'm glad you have made a fool of your father, you dog—I am. So this was your penitence, your duty and obedience!—I thought it was damned sudden!—You never heard their names before, not you!—what, the Languishes of Worcestershire, hey?—if you could please me in the affair it was all you desired!—Ah! you dissembling villain!—What!—[Pointing to Lydia] She squints, don't she?—a little red-haired girl!—hey?—Why, you hypocritical young rascal!—I wonder you ain't ashamed to hold up your head!

ABSOLUTE 'Tis with difficulty, sir.—I am confused—very much confused, as you must perceive.

Mrs. MALAPROP O Lud! Sir Anthony!—a new light breaks in upon me!—hey!—how! what! captain, did you write the letters then?—What—am I to thank you for the elegant compilation of an old weather-beaten she-dragon—hey!—O mercy!—was it you that reflected on my parts of speech?

ABSOLUTE Dear sir! my modesty will be overpowered at last, if you don't assist me—I shall certainly not be able to stand it!

Sir ANTHONY Come, come, Mrs. Malaprop, we must forget and forgive;—odds life! matters have taken so clever a turn all of a sudden, that I could find in my heart to be so good-humoured! and so gallant! hey! Mrs. Malaprop!

Mrs. MALAPROP Well, Sir Anthony, since you desire it, we will not anticipate the past!—so mind, young people—our retrospection will be all to the future.

Sir ANTHONY Come, we must leave them together; Mrs. Malaprop, they long to fly into each other's arms, I warrant!—Jack—isn't the cheek as I said, hey?— and the eye, you rogue!—and the lip—hey? Come, Mrs. Malaprop, we'll not disturb their tenderness—theirs is the time of life for happiness!—Youth's the season made for joy—[Sings.]—hey!—Odds life! I'm in such spirits,—I don't know what I could not do!—Permit me, ma'am—[Gives his hand to Mrs. MALAPROP.] Tol-de-rol—'gad, I should like to have a little fooling myself—Tol-de-rol! de-rol.

[Exit, singing and handing Mrs. MALAPROP.—LYDIA sits sullenly in her chair.]

ABSOLUTE [Aside.] So much thought bodes me no good.—[Aloud.] So grave, Lydia!

LYDIA Sir!

ABSOLUTE [Aside.] So!—egad! I thought as much!—that damned monosyllable has froze me!—[Aloud.] What, Lydia, now that we are as happy in our friends' consent, as in our mutual vows——

LYDIA [Peevishly.] Friends' consent indeed!

ABSOLUTE Come, come, we must lay aside some of our romance—a little wealth and comfort may be endured after all. And for your fortune, the lawyers shall make such settlements as——

LYDIA Lawyers! I hate lawyers!

ABSOLUTE Nay, then, we will not wait for their lingering forms, but instantly procure the licence, and——

LYDIA The licence!—I hate licence!

ABSOLUTE Oh my love! be not so unkind!—thus let me entreat—— [Kneeling.]

LYDIA Psha!—what signifies kneeling, when you know I must have you?

ABSOLUTE [Rising.] Nay, madam, there shall be no constraint upon your inclinations, I promise you.—If I have lost your heart—I resign the rest—[Aside.] 'Gad, I must try what a little spirit will do.

LYDIA [Rising.] Then, sir, let me tell you, the interest you had there was acquired by a mean, unmanly imposition, and deserves the punishment of fraud.—What, you have been treating me like a child!—humouring my romance! and laughing, I suppose, at your success!

ABSOLUTE You wrong me, Lydia, you wrong me—only hear——

LYDIA So, while I fondly imagined we were deceiving my relations, and flattered myself that I should outwit and incense them all—behold my hopes are to be crushed at once, by my aunt's consent and approbation—and I am myself the only dupe at last!—[Walking about in a heat.] But here, sir, here is the picture—Beverley's picture! [taking a miniature from her bosom] which I have worn, night and day, in spite of threats and entreaties!—There, sir [Flings it to him.]; and be assured I throw the original from my heart as easily.

ABSOLUTE Nay, nay, ma'am, we will not differ as to that.—Here [taking out a picture], here is Miss Lydia Languish.—What a difference!—ay, there is the heavenly assenting smile that first gave soul and spirit to my hopes!—those are the lips which sealed a vow, as yet scarce dry in Cupid's calendar! and there the half-resentful blush, that would have checked the ardour of my thanks!—Well, all that's past!—all over indeed!—There, madam—in beauty, that copy is not equal to you, but in my mind its merit over the original, in being still the same, is such—that—I cannot find in my heart to part with it. [Puts it up again.]

LYDIA [Softening.] 'Tis your own doing, sir—I, I, I suppose you are perfectly satisfied.

ABSOLUTE O, most certainly—sure, now, this is much better than being in love!—ha! ha! ha!—there's some spirit in this!—What signifies breaking some scores of solemn promises:—all that's of no consequence, you know. To be sure people will say, that miss don't know her own mind—but never mind that! Or, perhaps, they may be ill-natured enough to hint, that the gentleman grew tired of the lady and forsook her—but don't let that fret you.

LYDIA There is no bearing his insolence. [Bursts into tears.]

[Re-enter Mrs. MALAPROP and Sir ANTHONY ABSOLUTE.]

Mrs. MALAPROP Come, we must interrupt your billing and cooing awhile.

LYDIA This is worse than your treachery and deceit, you base ingrate! [Sobbing.]

Sir ANTHONY What the devil's the matter now?—Zounds! Mrs. Malaprop, this is the oddest billing and cooing I ever heard!—but what the deuce is the meaning of it?—I am quite astonished!

ABSOLUTE Ask the lady, sir.

Mrs. MALAPROP O mercy!—I'm quite analyzed, for my part!—Why, Lydia, what is the reason of this?

LYDIA Ask the gentleman, ma'am.

Sir ANTHONY Zounds! I shall be in a frenzy!—Why, Jack, you are not come out to be any one else, are you?

Mrs. MALAPROP Ay, sir, there's no more trick, is there?—you are not like Cerberus, three gentlemen at once, are you?

ABSOLUTE You'll not let me speak—I say the lady can account for this much much better than I can.

LYDIA Ma'am, you once commanded me never to think of Beverley again—there is the man—I now obey you: for, from this moment, I renounce him for ever. [Exit.]

Mrs. MALAPROP O mercy! and miracles! what a turn here is—why, sure, captain, you haven't behaved disrespectfully to my niece.

Sir ANTHONY Ha! ha! ha!—ha! ha! ha!—now I see it. Ha! ha! ha!—now I see it—you have been too lively, Jack.

ABSOLUTE Nay, sir, upon my word——

Sir ANTHONY Come, no lying, Jack—I'm sure 'twas so.

Mrs. MALAPROP O Lud! Sir Anthony!—O fy, captain!

ABSOLUTE Upon my soul, ma'am——

Sir ANTHONY Come, no excuses, Jack; why, your father, you rogue, was so before you:—the blood of the Absolutes was always impatient.—Ha! ha! ha! poor little Lydia! why, you've frightened her, you dog, you have.

ABSOLUTE By all that's good, sir——

Sir ANTHONY Zounds! say no more, I tell you—Mrs. Malaprop shall make your peace. You must make his peace, Mrs. Malaprop:—you must tell her 'tis Jack's way—tell her 'tis all our ways—it runs in the blood of our family! Come away, Jack—Ha! ha! ha!—Mrs. Malaprop—a young villain! [Pushing him out.]

Mrs. MALAPROP O! Sir Anthony!—O fy, captain!

[Exeunt severally.]

* * * * * * *

Scene III—The North Parade. [Enter Sir LUCIUS O'TRIGGER.]

Sir LUCIUS I wonder where this Captain Absolute hides himself! Upon my conscience! these officers are always in one's way in love affairs:—I remember I might have married Lady Dorothy Carmine, if it had not been for a little rogue of a major, who ran away with her before she could get a sight of me! And I wonder too what it is the ladies can see in them to be so fond of them—unless it be a touch of the old serpent in 'em, that makes the little creatures be caught, like vipers, with a bit of red cloth. Ha! isn't this the captain coming?—faith it is!—There is a probability of succeeding about that fellow, that is mighty provoking! Who the devil is he talking to? [Steps aside.]

[Enter CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE.]

ABSOLUTE [Aside.] To what fine purpose I have been plotting! a noble reward for all my schemes, upon my soul!—a little gipsy!—I did not think her romance could have made her so damned absurd either. 'Sdeath, I never was in a worse humour in my life!—I could cut my own throat, or any other person's, with the greatest pleasure in the world!

Sir LUCIUS Oh, faith! I'm in the luck of it. I never could have found him in a sweeter temper for my purpose—to be sure I'm just come in the nick! Now to enter into conversation with him, and so quarrel genteelly.—[Goes up to CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE.] With regard to that matter, captain, I must beg leave to differ in opinion with you.

ABSOLUTE Upon my word, then, you must be a very subtle disputant:—because, sir, I happened just then to be giving no opinion at all.

Sir LUCIUS That's no reason. For give me leave to tell you, a man may think an untruth as well as speak one.

ABSOLUTE Very true, sir; but if a man never utters his thoughts, I should think they might stand a chance of escaping controversy.

Sir LUCIUS Then, sir, you differ in opinion with me, which amounts to the same thing.

ABSOLUTE Hark'ee, Sir Lucius; if I had not before known you to be a gentleman, upon my soul, I should not have discovered it at this interview: for what you can drive at, unless you mean to quarrel with me, I cannot conceive!

Sir LUCIUS I humbly thank you, sir, for the quickness of your apprehension.—[Bowing.] You have named the very thing I would be at.

ABSOLUTE Very well, sir; I shall certainly not balk your inclinations.—But I should be glad you would please to explain your motives.

Sir LUCIUS Pray, sir, be easy; the quarrel is a very pretty quarrel as it stands; we should only spoil it by trying to explain it. However, your memory is very short, or you could not have forgot an affront you passed on me within this week. So, no more, but name your time and place.

ABSOLUTE Well, sir, since you are so bent on it, the sooner the better; let it be this evening—here, by the Spring Gardens. We shall scarcely be interrupted.

Sir LUCIUS Faith! that same interruption in affairs of this nature shows very great ill-breeding. I don't know what's the reason, but in England if a thing of this kind gets wind, people make such a pother, that a gentleman can never fight in peace and quietness. However, if it's the same to you, captain, I should take it as a particular kindness if you'd let us meet in King's-Mead-Fields, as a little business will call me there about six o'clock, and I may despatch both matters at once.

ABSOLUTE 'Tis the same to me exactly. A little after six, then, we will discuss this matter more seriously.

Sir LUCIUS If you please, sir; there will be very pretty small-sword light, though it won't do for a long shot. So that matter's settled, and my mind's at ease! [Exit.]

[Enter FAULKLAND.]

ABSOLUTE Well met! I was going to look for you. O Faulkland! all the demons of spite and disappointment have conspired against me! I'm so vex'd, that if I had not the prospect of a resource in being knocked o' the head by-and-by, I should scarce have spirits to tell you the cause.

FAULKLAND What can you mean?—Has Lydia changed her mind?—I should have thought her duty and inclination would now have pointed to the same object.

ABSOLUTE Ay, just as the eyes do of a person who squints: when her love-eye was fixed on me, t'other, her eye of duty, was finely obliqued: but when duty bid her point that the same way, off t'other turned on a swivel, and secured its retreat with a frown!

FAULKLAND But what's the resource you——

ABSOLUTE Oh, to wind up the whole, a good-natured Irishman here has—[Mimicking Sir LUCIUS] begged leave to have the pleasure of cutting my throat; and I mean to indulge him—that's all.

FAULKLAND Prithee, be serious!

ABSOLUTE 'Tis fact, upon my soul! Sir Lucius O'Trigger—you know him by sight—for some affront, which I am sure I never intended, has obliged me to meet him this evening at six o'clock: 'tis on that account I wished to see you; you must go with me.

FAULKLAND Nay, there must be some mistake, sure. Sir Lucius shall explain himself, and I dare say matters may be accommodated. But this evening did you say? I wish it had been any other time.

ABSOLUTE Why? there will be light enough: there will (as Sir Lucius says) be very pretty small-sword light, though it will not do for a long shot. Confound his long shots.

FAULKLAND But I am myself a good deal ruffled by a difference I have had with Julia. My vile tormenting temper has made me treat her so cruelly, that I shall not be myself till we are reconciled.

ABSOLUTE By heavens! Faulkland, you don't deserve her!

[Enter SERVANT, gives FAULKLAND a letter, and exit.]

FAULKLAND Oh, Jack! this is from Julia. I dread to open it! I fear it may be to take a last leave!—perhaps to bid me return her letters, and restore—Oh, how I suffer for my folly!

ABSOLUTE Here, let me see.—[Takes the letter and opens it.] Ay, a final sentence, indeed!—'tis all over with you, faith!

FAULKLAND Nay, Jack, don't keep me in suspense!

ABSOLUTE Here then—[Reads.] As I am convinced that my dear Faulkland's own reflections have already upbraided him for his last unkindness to me, I will not add a word on the subject. I wish to speak with you as soon as possible. Yours ever and truly, Julia. There's stubbornness and resentment for you!—[Gives him the letter.] Why, man, you don't seem one whit the happier at this!

FAULKLAND O yes, I am; but—but——

ABSOLUTE Confound your buts! you never hear any thing that would make another man bless himself, but you immediately damn it with a but!

FAULKLAND Now, Jack, as you are my friend, own honestly—don't you think there is something forward, something indelicate, in this haste to forgive? Women should never sue for reconciliation: that should always come from us. They should retain their coldness till wooed to kindness; and their pardon, like their love, should "not unsought be won."

ABSOLUTE I have not patience to listen to you! thou'rt incorrigible! so say no more on the subject. I must go to settle a few matters. Let me see you before six, remember, at my lodgings. A poor industrious devil like me, who have toiled, and drudged, and plotted to gain my ends, and am at last disappointed by other people's folly, may in pity be allowed to swear and grumble a little; but a captious sceptic in love, a slave to fretfulness and whim, who has no difficulties but of his own creating, is a subject more fit for ridicule than compassion! [Exit.]

FAULKLAND I feel his reproaches; yet I would not change this too exquisite nicety for the gross content with which he tramples on the thorns of love! His engaging me in this duel has started an idea in my head, which I will instantly pursue. I'll use it as the touchstone of Julia's sincerity and disinterestedness. If her love prove pure and sterling ore, my name will rest on it with honour; and once I've stamped it there, I lay aside my doubts for ever! But if the dross of selfishness, the alloy of pride, predominate, 'twill be best to leave her as a toy for some less cautious fool to sigh for! [Exit.]

* * * * * * * * * * *

ACT V

* * * * * * *

Scene I—JULIA's Dressing-Room. [JULIA discovered alone.]

JULIA How this message has alarmed me! what dreadful accident can he mean? why such charge to be alone?—O Faulkland!—how many unhappy moments—how many tears have you cost me.

[Enter FAULKLAND.]

JULIA What means this?—why this caution, Faulkland?

FAULKLAND Alas! Julia, I am come to take a long farewell.

JULIA Heavens! what do you mean?

FAULKLAND You see before you a wretch, whose life is forfeited. Nay, start not!—the infirmity of my temper has drawn all this misery on me. I left you fretful and passionate—an untoward accident drew me into a quarrel—the event is, that I must fly this kingdom instantly. O Julia, had I been so fortunate as to have called you mine entirely, before this mischance had fallen on me, I should not so deeply dread my banishment!

JULIA My soul is oppressed with sorrow at the nature of your misfortune: had these adverse circumstances arisen from a less fatal cause, I should have felt strong comfort in the thought that I could now chase from your bosom every doubt of the warm sincerity of my love. My heart has long known no other guardian—I now entrust my person to your honour—we will fly together. When safe from pursuit, my father's will may be fulfilled—and I receive a legal claim to be the partner of your sorrows, and tenderest comforter. Then on the bosom of your wedded Julia, you may lull your keen regret to slumbering; while virtuous love, with a cherub's hand, shall smooth the brow of upbraiding thought, and pluck the thorn from compunction.

FAULKLAND O Julia! I am bankrupt in gratitude! but the time is so pressing, it calls on you for so hasty a resolution.—Would you not wish some hours to weigh the advantages you forego, and what little compensation poor Faulkland can make you beside his solitary love?

JULIA I ask not a moment. No, Faulkland, I have loved you for yourself: and if I now, more than ever, prize the solemn engagement which so long has pledged us to each other, it is because it leaves no room for hard aspersions on my fame, and puts the seal of duty to an act of love. But let us not linger. Perhaps this delay——

FAULKLAND 'Twill be better I should not venture out again till dark. Yet am I grieved to think what numberless distresses will press heavy on your gentle disposition!

JULIA Perhaps your fortune may be forfeited by this unhappy act.—I know not whether 'tis so; but sure that alone can never make us unhappy. The little I have will be sufficient to support us; and exile never should be splendid.

FAULKLAND Ay, but in such an abject state of life, my wounded pride perhaps may increase the natural fretfulness of my temper, till I become a rude, morose companion, beyond your patience to endure. Perhaps the recollection of a deed my conscience cannot justify may haunt me in such gloomy and unsocial fits, that I shall hate the tenderness that would relieve me, break from your arms, and quarrel with your fondness!

JULIA If your thoughts should assume so unhappy a bent, you will the more want some mild and affectionate spirit to watch over and console you: one who, by bearing your infirmities with gentleness and resignation, may teach you so to bear the evils of your fortune.

FAULKLAND Julia, I have proved you to the quick! and with this useless device I throw away all my doubts. How shall I plead to be forgiven this last unworthy effect of my restless, unsatisfied disposition?

JULIA Has no such disaster happened as you related?

FAULKLAND I am ashamed to own that it was pretended; yet in pity, Julia, do not kill me with resenting a fault which never can be repeated: but sealing, this once, my pardon, let me to-morrow, in the face of Heaven, receive my future guide and monitress, and expiate my past folly by years of tender adoration.

JULIA Hold, Faulkland!—that you are free from a crime, which I before feared to name, Heaven knows how sincerely I rejoice! These are tears of thankfulness for that! But that your cruel doubts should have urged you to an imposition that has wrung my heart, gives me now a pang more keen than I can express!

FAULKLAND By Heavens! Julia——

JULIA Yet hear me,—My father loved you, Faulkland! and you preserved the life that tender parent gave me; in his presence I pledged my hand—joyfully pledged it—where before I had given my heart. When, soon after, I lost that parent, it seemed to me that Providence had, in Faulkland, shown me whither to transfer without a pause, my grateful duty, as well as my affection; hence I have been content to bear from you what pride and delicacy would have forbid me from another. I will not upbraid you, by repeating how you have trifled with my sincerity ——

FAULKLAND I confess it all! yet hear——

JULIA After such a year of trial, I might have flattered myself that I should not have been insulted with a new probation of my sincerity, as cruel as unnecessary! I now see it is not in your nature to be content or confident in love. With this conviction—I never will be yours. While I had hopes that my persevering attention, and unreproaching kindness, might in time reform your temper, I should have been happy to have gained a dearer influence over you; but I will not furnish you with a licensed power to keep alive an incorrigible fault, at the expense of one who never would contend with you.

FAULKLAND Nay, but, Julia, by my soul and honour, if after this——

JULIA But one word more.—As my faith has once been given to you, I never will barter it with another.—I shall pray for your happiness with the truest sincerity; and the dearest blessing I can ask of Heaven to send you will be to charm you from that unhappy temper, which alone has prevented the performance of our solemn engagement. All I request of you is, that you will yourself reflect upon this infirmity, and when you number up the many true delights it has deprived you of, let it not be your least regret, that it lost you the love of one who would have followed you in beggary through the world! [Exit.]

FAULKLAND She's gone—for ever!—There was an awful resolution in her manner, that riveted me to my place.—O fool!—dolt!—barbarian! Cursed as I am, with more imperfections than my fellow wretches, kind Fortune sent a heaven-gifted cherub to my aid, and, like a ruffian, I have driven her from my side!—I must now haste to my appointment. Well, my mind is tuned for such a scene. I shall wish only to become a principal in it, and reverse the tale my cursed folly put me upon forging here.—O Love!—tormentor!—fiend!—whose influence, like the moon's, acting on men of dull souls, makes idiots of them, but meeting subtler spirits, betrays their course, and urges sensibility to madness! [Exit.]

[Enter LYDIA and MAID.]

MAID My mistress, ma'am, I know, was here just now—perhaps she is only in the next room. [Exit.]

LYDIA Heigh-ho! Though he has used me so, this fellow runs strangely in my head. I believe one lecture from my grave cousin will make me recall him.

[Re-enter JULIA.]

O Julia, I am come to you with such an appetite for consolation.—Lud! child, what's the matter with you? You have been crying!—I'll be hanged if that Faulkland has not been tormenting you.

JULIA You mistake the cause of my uneasiness!—Something has flurried me a little. Nothing that you can guess at.—[Aside.] I would not accuse Faulkland to a sister!

LYDIA Ah! whatever vexations you may have, I can assure you mine surpass them. You know who Beverley proves to be?

JULIA I will now own to you, Lydia, that Mr. Faulkland had before informed me of the whole affair. Had young Absolute been the person you took him for, I should not have accepted your confidence on the subject, without a serious endeavour to counteract your caprice.

LYDIA So, then, I see I have been deceived by every one! But I don't care—I'll never have him.

JULIA Nay, Lydia——

LYDIA Why, is it not provoking? when I thought we were coming to the prettiest distress imaginable, to find myself made a mere Smithfield bargain of at last! There, had I projected one of the most sentimental elopements!—so becoming a disguise!—so amiable a ladder of ropes!—Conscious moon—four horses—Scotch parson—with such surprise to Mrs. Malaprop—and such paragraphs in the newspapers!—Oh, I shall die with disappointment!

JULIA I don't wonder at it!

LYDIA Now—sad reverse!—what have I to expect, but, after a deal of flimsy preparation with a bishop's license, and my aunt's blessing, to go simpering up to the altar; or perhaps be cried three times in a country church, and have an unmannerly fat clerk ask the consent of every butcher in the parish to join John Absolute and Lydia Languish, spinster! Oh that I should live to hear myself called spinster!

JULIA Melancholy indeed!

LYDIA How mortifying, to remember the dear delicious shifts I used to be put to, to gain half a minute's conversation with this fellow! How often have I stole forth, in the coldest night in January, and found him in the garden, stuck like a dripping statue! There would he kneel to me in the snow, and sneeze and cough so pathetically! he shivering with cold and I with apprehension! and while the freezing blast numbed our joints, how warmly would he press me to pity his flame, and glow with mutual ardour!—Ah, Julia, that was something like being in love.

JULIA If I were in spirits, Lydia, I should chide you only by laughing heartily at you; but it suits more the situation of my mind, at present, earnestly to entreat you not to let a man, who loves you with sincerity, suffer that unhappiness from your caprice, which I know too well caprice can inflict.

LYDIA O Lud! what has brought my aunt here?

[Enter Mrs. MALAPROP, FAG, and DAVID.]

Mrs. MALAPROP So! so! here's fine work!—here's fine suicide, parricide, and simulation, going on in the fields! and Sir Anthony not to be found to prevent the antistrophe!

JULIA For Heaven's sake, madam, what's the meaning of this?

Mrs. MALAPROP That gentleman can tell you—'twas he enveloped the affair to me.

LYDIA [To FAG.] Do, sir, will you, inform us?

FAG Ma'am, I should hold myself very deficient in every requisite that forms the man of breeding, if I delayed a moment to give all the information in my power to a lady so deeply interested in the affair as you are.

LYDIA But quick! quick sir!

FAG True, ma'am, as you say, one should be quick in divulging matters of this nature; for should we be tedious, perhaps while we are flourishing on the subject, two or three lives may be lost!

LYDIA O patience!—Do, ma'am, for Heaven's sake! tell us what is the matter?

Mrs. MALAPROP Why, murder's the matter! slaughter's the matter! killing's the matter!—but he can tell you the perpendiculars.

LYDIA Then, prithee, sir, be brief.

FAG Why, then, ma'am, as to murder—I cannot take upon me to say—and as to slaughter, or manslaughter, that will be as the jury finds it.

LYDIA But who, sir—who are engaged in this?

FAG Faith, ma'am, one is a young gentleman whom I should be very sorry any thing was to happen to—a very pretty behaved gentleman! We have lived much together, and always on terms.

LYDIA But who is this? who! who! who?

FAG My master, ma'am—my master—I speak of my master.

LYDIA Heavens! What, Captain Absolute!

Mrs. MALAPROP Oh, to be sure, you are frightened now!

JULIA But who are with him, sir?

FAG As to the rest, ma'am, this gentleman can inform you better than I.

JULIA [To DAVID.] Do speak, friend.

DAVID Look'ee, my lady—by the mass! there's mischief going on. Folks don't use to meet for amusement with firearms, firelocks, fire-engines, fire-screens, fire-office, and the devil knows what other crackers beside!—This, my lady, I say, has an angry savour.

JULIA But who is there beside Captain Absolute, friend?

DAVID My poor master—under favour for mentioning him first. You know me, my lady—I am David—and my master of course is, or was, Squire Acres. Then comes Squire Faulkland.

JULIA Do, ma'am, let us instantly endeavour to prevent mischief.

Mrs. MALAPROP O fy! it would be very inelegant in us:—we should only participate things.

DAVID Ah! do, Mrs. Aunt, save a few lives—they are desperately given, believe me.—Above all, there is that bloodthirsty Philistine, Sir Lucius O'Trigger.

Mrs. MALAPROP Sir Lucius O'Trigger? O mercy! have they drawn poor little dear Sir Lucius into the scrape?—Why how you stand, girl! you have no more feeling than one of the Derbyshire petrifactions!

LYDIA What are we to do, madam?

Mrs. MALAPROP Why, fly with the utmost felicity, to be sure, to prevent mischief!—Here, friend, you can show us the place?

FAG If you please, ma'am, I will conduct you.—David, do you look for Sir Anthony.

[Exit DAVID.]

Mrs. MALAPROP Come, girls! this gentleman will exhort us.—Come, sir, you're our envoy—lead the way, and we'll precede.

FAG Not a step before the ladies for the world!

Mrs. MALAPROP You're sure you know the spot?

FAG I think I can find it, ma'am; and one good thing is, we shall hear the report of the pistols as we draw near, so we can't well miss them;—never fear, ma'am, never fear.

[Exeunt, he talking.]

* * * * * * *

Scene II—The South Parade. [Enter CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE, putting his sword under his great coat.]

ABSOLUTE A sword seen in the streets of Bath would raise as great an alarm as a mad dog.—How provoking this is in Faulkland!—never punctual! I shall be obliged to go without him at last.—Oh, the devil! here's Sir Anthony! how shall I escape him? [Muffles up his face, and takes a circle to go off.]

[Enter Sir ANTHONY ABSOLUTE.]

Sir ANTHONY How one may be deceived at a little distance! Only that I see he don't know me, I could have sworn that was Jack!—Hey! Gad's life! it is.—Why, Jack, what are you afraid of? hey!—sure I'm right. Why Jack, Jack Absolute! [Goes up to him.]

ABSOLUTE Really, sir, you have the advantage of me:—I don't remember ever to have had the honour—my name is Saunderson, at your service.

Sir ANTHONY Sir, I beg your pardon—I took you—hey?—why, zounds! it is—Stay—[Looks up to his face.] So, so—your humble servant, Mr. Saunderson! Why, you scoundrel, what tricks are you after now?

ABSOLUTE Oh, a joke, sir, a joke! I came here on purpose to look for you, sir.

Sir ANTHONY You did! well, I am glad you were so lucky:—but what are you muffled up so for?—what's this for?—hey!

ABSOLUTE 'Tis cool, sir, isn't it?—rather chilly somehow:—but I shall be late—I have a particular engagement.

Sir ANTHONY Stay!—Why, I thought you were looking for me?—Pray, Jack, where is't you are going?

ABSOLUTE Going, sir?

Sir ANTHONY Ay, where are you going?

ABSOLUTE Where am I going?

Sir ANTHONY You unmannerly puppy!

ABSOLUTE I was going, sir, to—to—to—to Lydia—sir, to Lydia—to make matters up if I could;—and I was looking for you, sir, to—to——

Sir ANTHONY To go with you, I suppose.—Well, come along.

ABSOLUTE Oh! zounds! no, sir, not for the world!—I wished to meet with you, sir,—to—to—to—You find it cool, I'm sure, sir—you'd better not stay out.

Sir ANTHONY Cool!—not at all.—Well, Jack—and what will you say to Lydia?

ABSOLUTE Oh, sir, beg her pardon, humour her—promise and vow: but I detain you, sir—consider the cold air on your gout.

Sir ANTHONY Oh, not at all!—Not at all! I'm in no hurry.—Ah! Jack, you youngsters, when once you are wounded here [Putting his hand to CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE's breast.] Hey! what the deuce have you got here?

ABSOLUTE Nothing, sir—nothing.

Sir ANTHONY What's this?—here's something damned hard.

ABSOLUTE Oh, trinkets, sir! trinkets!—a bauble for Lydia!

Sir ANTHONY Nay, let me see your taste.—[Pulls his coat open, the sword falls.] Trinkets!—a bauble for Lydia!—Zounds! sirrah, you are not going to cut her throat, are you?

ABSOLUTE Ha! ha! ha!—I thought it would divert you, sir, though I didn't mean to tell you till afterwards.

Sir ANTHONY You didn't?—Yes, this is a very diverting trinket, truly!

ABSOLUTE Sir, I'll explain to you.—You know, sir, Lydia is romantic, devilish romantic, and very absurd of course: now, sir, I intend, if she refuses to forgive me, to unsheath this sword, and swear—I'll fall upon its point, and expire at her feet!

Sir ANTHONY Fall upon a fiddlestick's end!—why, I suppose it is the very thing that would please her.—Get along, you fool!

ABSOLUTE Well, sir, you shall hear of my success—you shall hear.—O Lydia!—forgive me, or this pointed steel—says I.

Sir ANTHONY O, booby! stay away and welcome—says she.—Get along! and damn your trinkets!

[Exit CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE.]

[Enter DAVID, running.]

DAVID Stop him! stop him! Murder! Thief! Fire!—Stop fire! Stop fire!—O Sir Anthony—call! call! bid 'm stop! Murder! Fire!

Sir ANTHONY Fire! Murder!—Where?

DAVID Oons! he's out of sight! and I'm out of breath! for my part! O Sir Anthony, why didn't you stop him? why didn't you stop him?

Sir ANTHONY Zounds! the fellow's mad!—Stop whom? stop Jack?

DAVID Ay, the captain, sir!—there's murder and slaughter——

Sir ANTHONY Murder!

DAVID Ay, please you, Sir Anthony, there's all kinds of murder, all sorts of slaughter to be seen in the fields: there's fighting going on, sir—bloody sword-and-gun fighting!

Sir ANTHONY Who are going to fight, dunce?

DAVID Every body that I know of, Sir Anthony:—everybody is going to fight, my poor master, Sir Lucius O'Trigger, your son, the captain——

Sir ANTHONY Oh, the dog! I see his tricks.—Do you know the place?

DAVID King's-Mead-Fields.

Sir ANTHONY You know the way?

DAVID Not an inch; but I'll call the mayor—aldermen—constables—churchwardens—and beadles—we can't be too many to part them.

Sir ANTHONY Come along—give me your shoulder! we'll get assistance as we go—the lying villain!—Well, I shall be in such a frenzy!—So—this was the history of his trinkets! I'll bauble him!

[Exeunt.]

* * * * * * *

Scene III—King's-Mead-Fields. [Enter Sir LUCIUS O'TRIGGER and ACRES, with pistols.]

ACRES By my valour! then, Sir Lucius, forty yards is a good distance. Odds levels and aims!—I say it is a good distance.

Sir LUCIUS Is it for muskets or small field-pieces? Upon my conscience, Mr. Acres, you must leave those things to me.—Stay now—I'll show you.—[Measures paces along the stage.] There now, that is a very pretty distance—a pretty gentleman's distance.

ACRES Zounds! we might as well fight in a sentry-box! I tell you, Sir Lucius, the farther he is off, the cooler I shall take my aim.

Sir LUCIUS Faith! then I suppose you would aim at him best of all if he was out of sight!

ACRES No, Sir Lucius; but I should think forty or eight-and-thirty yards——

Sir LUCIUS Pho! pho! nonsense! three or four feet between the mouths of your pistols is as good as a mile.

ACRES Odds bullets, no!—by my valour! there is no merit in killing him so near; do, my dear Sir Lucius, let me bring him down at a long shot:—a long shot, Sir Lucius, if you love me!

Sir LUCIUS Well, the gentleman's friend and I must settle that.—But tell me now, Mr. Acres, in case of an accident, is there any little will or commission I could execute for you?

ACRES I am much obliged to you, Sir Lucius—but I don't understand——

Sir LUCIUS Why, you may think there's no being shot at without a little risk—and if an unlucky bullet should carry a quietus with it—I say it will be no time then to be bothering you about family matters.

ACRES A quietus!

Sir LUCIUS For instance, now—if that should be the case—would you choose to be pickled and sent home?—or would it be the same to you to lie here in the Abbey? I'm told there is very snug lying in the Abbey.

ACRES Pickled!—Snug lying in the Abbey!—Odds tremors! Sir Lucius, don't talk so!

Sir LUCIUS I suppose, Mr. Acres, you never were engaged in an affair of this kind before?

ACRES No, Sir Lucius, never before.

Sir LUCIUS Ah! that's a pity!—there's nothing like being used to a thing.—Pray now, how would you receive the gentleman's shot?

ACRES Odds files!—I've practised that—there, Sir Lucius—there. [Puts himself in an attitude.] A side-front, hey? Odd! I'll make myself small enough: I'll stand edgeways.

Sir LUCIUS Now—you're quite out—for if you stand so when I take my aim—— [Levelling at him.]

ACRES Zounds! Sir Lucius—are you sure it is not cocked?

Sir LUCIUS Never fear.

ACRES But—but—you don't know—it may go off of its own head!

Sir LUCIUS Pho! be easy.—Well, now if I hit you in the body, my bullet has a double chance—for if it misses a vital part of your right side, 'twill be very hard if it don't succeed on the left!

ACRES A vital part!

Sir LUCIUS But, there—fix yourself so—[Placing him]—let him see the broad-side of your full front—there—now a ball or two may pass clean through your body, and never do any harm at all.

ACRES Clean through me!—a ball or two clean through me!

Sir LUCIUS Ay—may they—and it is much the genteelest attitude into the bargain.

ACRES Look'ee! Sir Lucius—I'd just as lieve be shot in an awkward posture as a genteel one; so, by my valour! I will stand edgeways.

Sir LUCIUS [Looking at his watch.] Sure they don't mean to disappoint us—Hah!—no, faith—I think I see them coming.

ACRES Hey!—what!—coming!——

Sir LUCIUS Ay.—Who are those yonder getting over the stile?

ACRES There are two of them indeed!—well—let them come—hey, Sir Lucius!—we—we—we—we—won't run.

Sir LUCIUS Run!

ACRES No—I say—we won't run, by my valour!

Sir LUCIUS What the devil's the matter with you?

ACRES Nothing—nothing—my dear friend—my dear Sir Lucius—but I—I—I don't feel quite so bold, somehow, as I did.

Sir LUCIUS O fy!—consider your honour.

ACRES Ay—true—my honour. Do, Sir Lucius, edge in a word or two every now and then about my honour.

Sir LUCIUS [Looking.] Well, here they're coming.

ACRES Sir Lucius—if I wa'n't with you, I should almost think I was afraid.—If my valour should leave me!—Valour will come and go.

Sir LUCIUS Then pray keep it fast, while you have it.

ACRES Sir Lucius—I doubt it is going—yes—my valour is certainly going!—it is sneaking off!—I feel it oozing out as it were at the palms of my hands!

Sir LUCIUS Your honour—your honour.—Here they are.

ACRES O mercy!—now—that I was safe at Clod-Hall! or could be shot before I was aware!

[Enter FAULKLAND and CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE.]

Sir LUCIUS Gentlemen, your most obedient.—Hah!—what, Captain Absolute!—So, I suppose, sir, you are come here, just like myself—to do a kind office, first for your friend—then to proceed to business on your own account.

ACRES What, Jack!—my dear Jack!—my dear friend!

ABSOLUTE Hark'ee, Bob, Beverley's at hand.

Sir LUCIUS Well, Mr. Acres—I don't blame your saluting the gentleman civilly.—[To FAULKLAND.] So, Mr. Beverley, if you'll choose your weapons, the captain and I will measure the ground.

FAULKLAND My weapons, sir!

ACRES Odds life! Sir Lucius, I'm not going to fight Mr. Faulkland; these are my particular friends.

Sir LUCIUS What, sir, did you not come here to fight Mr. Acres?

FAULKLAND Not I, upon my word, sir.

Sir LUCIUS Well, now, that's mighty provoking! But I hope, Mr. Faulkland, as there are three of us come on purpose for the game, you won't be so cantanckerous as to spoil the party by sitting out.

ABSOLUTE O pray, Faulkland, fight to oblige Sir Lucius.

FAULKLAND Nay, if Mr. Acres is so bent on the matter——

ACRES No, no, Mr. Faulkland;—I'll bear my disappointment like a Christian.—Look'ee, Sir Lucius, there's no occasion at all for me to fight; and if it is the same to you, I'd as lieve let it alone.

Sir LUCIUS Observe me, Mr. Acres—I must not be trifled with. You have certainly challenged somebody—and you came here to fight him. Now, if that gentleman is willing to represent him—I can't see, for my soul, why it isn't just the same thing.

ACRES Why no—Sir Lucius—I tell you, 'tis one Beverley I've challenged—a fellow, you see, that dare not show his face!—if he were here, I'd make him give up his pretensions directly!

ABSOLUTE Hold, Bob—let me set you right—there is no such man as Beverley in the case.—The person who assumed that name is before you; and as his pretensions are the same in both characters, he is ready to support them in whatever way you please.

Sir LUCIUS Well, this is lucky.—Now you have an opportunity——

ACRES What, quarrel with my dear friend Jack Absolute?—not if he were fifty Beverleys! Zounds! Sir Lucius, you would not have me so unnatural.

Sir LUCIUS Upon my conscience, Mr. Acres, your valour has oozed away with a vengeance!

ACRES Not in the least! Odds backs and abettors! I'll be your second with all my heart—and if you should get a quietus, you may command me entirely. I'll get you snug lying in the Abbey here; or pickle you, and send you over to Blunderbuss-hall, or anything of the kind, with the greatest pleasure.

Sir LUCIUS Pho! pho! you are little better than a coward.

ACRES Mind, gentlemen, he calls me a coward; coward was the word, by my valour!

Sir LUCIUS Well, sir?

ACRES Look'ee, Sir Lucius, 'tisn't that I mind the word coward—coward may be said in joke—But if you had called me a poltroon, odds daggers and balls——

Sir LUCIUS Well, sir?

ACRES I should have thought you a very ill-bred man.

Sir LUCIUS Pho! you are beneath my notice.

ABSOLUTE Nay, Sir Lucius, you can't have a better second than my friend Acres—He is a most determined dog—called in the country, Fighting Bob.—He generally kills a man a week—don't you Bob?

ACRES Ay—at home!

Sir LUCIUS Well, then, captain, 'tis we must begin—so come out, my little counsellor—[Draws his sword]—and ask the gentleman, whether he will resign the lady, without forcing you to proceed against him?

ABSOLUTE Come on then, sir—[Draws]; since you won't let it be an amicable suit, here's my reply.

[Enter Sir ANTHONY ABSOLUTE, DAVID, Mrs. MALAPROP, LYDIA, and JULIA.]

DAVID Knock 'em all down, sweet Sir Anthony; knock down my master in particular; and bind his hands over to their good behaviour!

Sir ANTHONY Put up, Jack, put up, or I shall be in a frenzy—how came you in a duel, sir?

ABSOLUTE Faith, sir, that gentleman can tell you better than I; 'twas he called on me, and you know, sir, I serve his majesty.

Sir ANTHONY Here's a pretty fellow; I catch him going to cut a man's throat, and he tells me, he serves his majesty!—Zounds! sirrah, then how durst you draw the king's sword against one of his subjects?

ABSOLUTE Sir! I tell you, that gentleman called me out, without explaining his reasons.

Sir ANTHONY Gad! sir, how came you to call my son out, without explaining your reasons!

Sir LUCIUS Your son, sir, insulted me in a manner which my honour could not brook.

Sir ANTHONY Zounds! Jack, how durst you insult the gentleman in a manner which his honour could not brook?

Mrs. MALAPROP Come, come, let's have no honour before ladies—Captain Absolute, come here—How could you intimidate us so?—Here's Lydia has been terrified to death for you.

ABSOLUTE For fear I should be killed, or escape, ma'am?

Mrs. MALAPROP Nay, no delusions to the past—Lydia is convinced; speak, child.

Sir LUCIUS With your leave, ma'am, I must put in a word here: I believe I could interpret the young lady's silence. Now mark——

LYDIA What is it you mean, sir?

Sir LUCIUS Come, come, Delia, we must be serious now—this is no time for trifling.

LYDIA 'Tis true, sir; and your reproof bids me offer this gentleman my hand, and solicit the return of his affections.

ABSOLUTE O! my little angel, say you so?—Sir Lucius—I perceive there must be some mistake here, with regard to the affront which you affirm I have given you. I can only say, that it could not have been intentional. And as you must be convinced, that I should not fear to support a real injury—you shall now see that I am not ashamed to atone for an inadvertency—I ask your pardon.—But for this lady, while honoured with her approbation, I will support my claim against any man whatever.

Sir ANTHONY Well said, Jack, and I'll stand by you, my boy.

ACRES Mind, I give up all my claim—I make no pretensions to any thing in the world; and if I can't get a wife without fighting for her, by my valour! I'll live a bachelor.

Sir LUCIUS Captain, give me your hand: an affront handsomely acknowledged becomes an obligation; and as for the lady, if she chooses to deny her own hand-writing, here—— [Takes out letters.]

Mrs. MALAPROP O, he will dissolve my mystery!—Sir Lucius, perhaps there's some mistake—perhaps I can illuminate——

Sir LUCIUS Pray, old gentlewoman, don't interfere where you have no business.—Miss Languish, are you my Delia, or not?

LYDIA Indeed, Sir Lucius, I am not. [Walks aside with CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE.]

Mrs. MALAPROP Sir Lucius O'Trigger—ungrateful as you are—I own the soft impeachment —pardon my blushes, I am Delia.

Sir LUCIUS You Delia—pho! pho! be easy.

Mrs. MALAPROP Why, thou barbarous Vandyke—those letters are mine—When you are more sensible of my benignity—perhaps I may be brought to encourage your addresses.

Sir LUCIUS Mrs. Malaprop, I am extremely sensible of your condescension; and whether you or Lucy have put this trick on me, I am equally beholden to you.—And, to show you I am not ungrateful, Captain Absolute, since you have taken that lady from me, I'll give you my Delia into the bargain.

ABSOLUTE I am much obliged to you, Sir Lucius; but here's my friend, Fighting Bob, unprovided for.

Sir LUCIUS Hah! little Valour—here, will you make your fortune?

ACRES Odds wrinkles! No.—But give me your hand, Sir Lucius, forget and forgive; but if ever I give you a chance of pickling me again, say Bob Acres is a dunce, that's all.

Sir ANTHONY Come, Mrs. Malaprop, don't be cast down—you are in your bloom yet.

Mrs. MALAPROP O Sir Anthony—men are all barbarians.

[All retire but JULIA and FAULKLAND.]

JULIA [Aside.] He seems dejected and unhappy—not sullen; there was some foundation, however, for the tale he told me—O woman! how true should be your judgment, when your resolution is so weak!

FAULKLAND Julia!—how can I sue for what I so little deserve? I dare not presume—yet Hope is the child of Penitence.

JULIA Oh! Faulkland, you have not been more faulty in your unkind treatment of me, than I am now in wanting inclination to resent it. As my heart honestly bids me place my weakness to the account of love, I should be ungenerous not to admit the same plea for yours.

FAULKLAND Now I shall be blest indeed!

Sir ANTHONY [Coming forward.] What's going on here?—So you have been quarrelling too, I warrant! Come, Julia, I never interfered before; but let me have a hand in the matter at last.—All the faults I have ever seen in my friend Faulkland seemed to proceed from what he calls the delicacy and warmth of his affection for you—There, marry him directly, Julia; you'll find he'll mend surprisingly!

[The rest come forward.]

Sir LUCIUS Come, now, I hope there is no dissatisfied person, but what is content; for as I have been disappointed myself, it will be very hard if I have not the satisfaction of seeing other people succeed better.

ACRES You are right, Sir Lucius.—So Jack, I wish you joy—Mr. Faulkland the same.—Ladies,—come now, to show you I'm neither vexed nor angry, odds tabors and pipes! I'll order the fiddles in half an hour to the New Rooms—and I insist on your all meeting me there.

Sir ANTHONY 'Gad! sir, I like your spirit; and at night we single lads will drink a health to the young couples, and a husband to Mrs. Malaprop.

FAULKLAND Our partners are stolen from us, Jack—I hope to be congratulated by each other—yours for having checked in time the errors of an ill-directed imagination, which might have betrayed an innocent heart; and mine, for having, by her gentleness and candour, reformed the unhappy temper of one, who by it made wretched whom he loved most, and tortured the heart he ought to have adored.

ABSOLUTE Well, Jack, we have both tasted the bitters, as well as the sweets of love; with this difference only, that you always prepared the bitter cup for yourself, while I——

LYDIA Was always obliged to me for it, hey! Mr. Modesty?—But come, no more of that—our happiness is now as unalloyed as general.

JULIA Then let us study to preserve it so: and while Hope pictures to us a flattering scene of future bliss, let us deny its pencil those colours which are too bright to be lasting.—When hearts deserving happiness would unite their fortunes, Virtue would crown them with an unfading garland of modest hurtless flowers; but ill-judging Passion will force the gaudier rose into the wreath, whose thorn offends them when its leaves are dropped!

[Exeunt omnes.]

* * * * * * * * * *

EPILOGUE By the Author

Spoken by MRS. BULKLEY

Ladies, for you—I heard our poet say— He'd try to coax some moral from his play: "One moral's plain," cried I, "without more fuss; Man's social happiness all rests on us: Through all the drama—whether damn'd or not— Love gilds the scene, and women guide the plot. From every rank obedience is our due— D'ye doubt?—The world's great stage shall prove it true." The cit, well skill'd to shun domestic strife, Will sup abroad; but first he'll ask his wife: John Trot, his friend, for once will do the same, But then—he'll just step home to tell his dame. The surly squire at noon resolves to rule, And half the day—Zounds! madam is a fool! Convinced at night, the vanquish'd victor says, Ah, Kate! you women have such coaxing ways. The jolly toper chides each tardy blade, Till reeling Bacchus calls on Love for aid: Then with each toast he sees fair bumpers swim, And kisses Chloe on the sparkling brim! Nay, I have heard that statesmen—great and wise— Will sometimes counsel with a lady's eyes! The servile suitors watch her various face, She smiles preferment, or she frowns disgrace, Curtsies a pension here—there nods a place. Nor with less awe, in scenes of humbler life, Is view'd the mistress, or is heard the wife. The poorest peasant of the poorest soil, The child of poverty, and heir to toil, Early from radiant Love's impartial light Steals one small spark to cheer this world of night: Dear spark! that oft through winter's chilling woes Is all the warmth his little cottage knows! The wandering tar, who not for years has press'd, The widow'd partner of his day of rest, On the cold deck, far from her arms removed, Still hums the ditty which his Susan loved; And while around the cadence rude is blown, The boatswain whistles in a softer tone. The soldier, fairly proud of wounds and toil, Pants for the triumph of his Nancy's smile! But ere the battle should he list her cries, The lover trembles—and the hero dies! That heart, by war and honour steel'd to fear, Droops on a sigh, and sickens at a tear! But ye more cautious, ye nice-judging few, Who give to beauty only beauty's due, Though friends to love—ye view with deep regret Our conquests marr'd, our triumphs incomplete, Till polish'd wit more lasting charms disclose, And judgment fix the darts which beauty throws! In female breasts did sense and merit rule, The lover's mind would ask no other school; Shamed into sense, the scholars of our eyes, Our beaux from gallantry would soon be wise; Would gladly light, their homage to improve, The lamp of knowledge at the torch of love!

* * * * * * * * * *

THE END