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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/31374-8.txt b/31374-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..de0225d --- /dev/null +++ b/31374-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3361 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Dramatist; or Stop Him Who Can!, by +Frederick Reynolds + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Dramatist; or Stop Him Who Can! + A Comedy, in Five Acts + + +Author: Frederick Reynolds + + + +Release Date: February 23, 2010 [eBook #31374] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DRAMATIST; OR STOP HIM WHO +CAN!*** + + +E-text prepared by Steven desJardins and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 31374-h.htm or 31374-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/31374/31374-h/31374-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/31374/31374-h.zip) + + + + + +THE DRAMATIST; +OR, +STOP HIM WHO CAN! + +A Comedy, in Five Acts; + +by + +FREDERICK REYNOLDS. + +As Performed at the +Theatre Royal, Covent Garden. + +Printed Under the Authority of the Managers +from the Prompt Book. + +With Remarks by Mrs Inchbald. + + + + + + + +[Illustration: DRAMATIST + +VAPID--PROLOGUE OR EPILOGUE! I'M YOUR MAN:--I'LL WRITE YOU BOTH. + +ACT II. SCENE II + +PAINTED BY SINGLETON. PUBLISHD BY LONGMAN & CO. ENGRAVD BY ENGLEHEART.] + + + +London: +Printed for Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, +Paternoster Row. + +Edinburgh: +Printed by James Ballantyne and Co. + + + + +REMARKS. + + +Plays of former times were written to be read, not seen. Dramatic +authors succeeded in their aim; their works were placed in libraries, +and the theatres were deserted.--Now, plays are written to be seen, not +read--and present authors gain their views; for they and the managers +are enriched, and the theatres crowded. + +To be both seen and read at the present day, is a degree of honour, +which, perhaps, not one comic dramatist can wholly boast, except +Shakspeare. Exclusive of his, scarcely any of the very best comedies of +the best of former bards will now attract an audience: yet the genius of +ancient writers was assisted by various tales, for plots, of which they +have deprived the moderns; they had, besides, the privilege to write +without either political or moral restraint. Uncurbed by law or +delicacy, they wrote at random; and at random wrote some pages worthy +posterity--but along with these, they produced others, which disgrace +the age that reprints and circulates them. + +It might be deemed suspicious to insinuate, that those persons, perhaps, +who so vehemently exclaim against modern dramas, give up with reluctance +the old prerogative of listening to wit and repartee, which would make +the refined hearer of the present day blush, and the moral auditor +shudder. + +To those who can wisely bear with the faults of their own time, nor +think all that is good is gone by, the representation of the present +comedy will give high entertainment; particularly in those scenes in +which Vapid is concerned.--Reynolds could hardly mistake drawing a +faithful portrait of this character, for it is said--he sat for himself. + +Yet those, who expect to be highly delighted with "The Dramatist," must +bring with them to the theatre a proper acquaintance with the stage, and +also of its power over certain of its votaries. + +If attraction, if bursts of applause, and still less equivocal +approbation, bursts of laughter, constitute perfect success to a comic +writer, Mr Reynolds, in this, as well as in other of his comedies, has +been preeminently successful. + +In this comedy, however, and, perhaps, in one or two more he has +written, there is an obstacle to his independent merit as an author--an +obstacle which too many dramatic writers willingly place in their path +to lasting reputation. He has written for one particular actor to +support his play--Lewis--more worthy to be thus considered than almost +any other performer: but here his very skill gives the alarm--for Lewis +possesses such unaffected spirit on the stage, a kind of vivid fire, +which tempers burlesque with nature, or nature with burlesque, so +happily, that it cannot be hoped any other man will easily support those +characters written purposely for him. + +Be that as it may--when Reynolds can no more enliven a theatre by his +Dramatist, this comedy will grow dull in excellent company--for +Congreve's "Way of the World" was hissed, it is said, from a London +stage, the last time it was acted, for insipidity. + + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONĘ. + +LORD SCRATCH _Mr Quick._ +HARRY NEVILLE _Mr Holman._ +FLORIVILLE _Mr Blanchard._ +WILLOUGHBY _Mr Macready._ +ENNUI _Mr Munden._ +PETER _Mr Thompson._ +VAPID _Mr Lewis._ +SERVANT _Mr Evatt._ + +LOUISA COURTNEY _Miss Brunton._ +LADY WAITFOR'T _Mrs Webb._ +LETTY _Miss Brangin._ +MARIANNE _Mrs Wells._ + +_SCENE,--Bath._ + + + + +THE DRAMATIST. + + +ACT THE FIRST. + + +SCENE I. + + + _The Grove.--LADY WAITFOR'T'S House._ + + _Enter MARIANNE, and LETTY, from the House._ + +_Mari._ But I tell you I will come out--I didn't come to Bath to be +confined, nor I won't--I hate all their company, but sweet Miss +Courtney's. + +_Letty._ I declare, Miss Marianne, you grow worse and worse every day, +your country manners will be the ruin of you. + +_Mari._ Don't you talk about that, Letty--It was a shame to bring me up +in the country--if I had been properly taken care of, I might have done +great things--I might have married the poet I danced with at the +ball--But it's all over now.--I shall never get a husband, and, what's +worse, my aunt did it on purpose.--She ruined me, Letty, that nobody +else might. + +_Letty._ How you talk!--I hope Miss Courtney hasn't taught you all this? + +_Mari._ No,--she's a dear creature,--she has taught me many things; but +nothing improper, I'm sure. + +_Letty._ Pray, has she taught you why she never plays any tune but the +one we heard just now? + +_Mari._ Yes--and if you'll keep it a secret, I'll tell you, Letty; Mr +Harry Neville taught it her last summer,--and now she is always playing +it, because it puts her in mind of the dear man;--when it is ended, +don't you observe how she sighs from the bottom of her dear little +heart? + +_Letty._ Why, I thought they had quarrelled? + +_Mari._ So they have--she won't see him, and I believe my aunt, Lady +Waitfor't, has been the occasion of it;--poor Mr Neville!--I wish I +could assist him, for indeed, Letty, I always pity any body that is +crossed in love--it may be one's own case one day or other, you know. + +_Letty._ True--and for the same reason, I suppose, you rejoice when it +is successful.--I'm sure now the intended marriage of Lady Waitfor't and +Lord Scratch gives you great pleasure. + +_Mari._ What! the country gentleman who has lately come to his title? +No, if you'll believe me, I don't like him at all,--he's a sour old +fellow--is always abusing our sex, and thinks there is only one good +woman under heaven:--now, I'm sure that's a mistake, for I know I'm a +good woman, and I think, Letty, you are another. + +_Letty._ Yes,--I hope so, though I confess I think your aunt is better +than either of us. + +_Mari._ More shame for you--she is a woman of sentiment, and hums you +over with her flourishes about purity, and feelings.--Feelings!--'faith, +she ought to be ashamed of herself--no other woman would talk in that +manner. + +_Letty._ You mistake her--she is a woman of virtue, and can't help +feeling for the vices and misfortunes of others. + +_Mari._ Then why can't she do as I have done, Letty? keep her feelings +to herself--If I had given way to them half so much as she has--Oh Lord! +I don't know what might have been the consequence. + +_Letty._ For shame! You never hear Lady Waitfor't speak ill of any body. + +_Mari._ No,--How should she, when she talks of nobody but herself? + +_Letty._ Well, your opinion is of little weight; my Lord sees her merit, +and is come to Bath on purpose to marry her--he thinks her a prodigy of +goodness. + +_Mari._ Then, pray let him have her--every fool knows so, to be sure he +does, Letty, that a prodigy of goodness is a very rare thing;--but when +he finds her out!--'faith, it will be a rare joke, when he finds her +out. + +_Letty._ Shameful, Miss Marianne! do speak a little intelligibly, and +remember your aunt's favourite observation. + +_Mari._ What is it?--I have forgot. + +_Letty._ That good sentiments are always plain. + +_Mari._ Yes,--so are good women,--bid her remember that, Letty. + +_Letty._ Hush:--say no more--here she comes, and Mr Willoughby with her. + +_Mari._ Ay--that man is always with her of late--but come, Letty, let's +get out of their way--let's take a walk, and look at the beaux. + +_Letty._ The beaux! ah, I see you long to become a woman of fashion. + +_Mari._ No--though I hate the country, I never will become a woman of +fashion--I know too well what it is to do many things one don't like, +and 'faith, while there is such real pleasure in following my own +inclinations, I see no reason why, merely out of fashion, I should be +obliged to copy other people's. [_Exit, with LETTY._ + + _Enter LADY WAITFOR'T and WILLOUGHBY._ + +_Lady._ [_To SERVANT._] When my lord returns, tell him I'm gone to Lady +Walton's, and shall be back immediately. + +_Will._ Then your ladyship is certain Harry Neville is arrived. + +_Lady._ Yes--the ungrateful man arrived last night, and, as I yet mean +to consult his happiness, I have written to him to come to me this +evening--but I will ever oppose his union with my lord's ward, Louisa +Courtney, because I think it will be the ruin of them both; and you +know, Willoughby, one cannot forget one's feelings on those occasions. + +_Will._ Certainly--Ennui, the time-killer, whose only business in life +is to murder the hour, is also just arrived; and my lord is resolved on +his marrying Louisa instantly. + +_Lady._ True--and only because he'll make a quiet member for his brother +in the west. But, for various reasons, I am determined she shall be +yours--yet it must be done artfully--my circumstances are deranged, and +an alliance with my lord Scratch is the only hope of relief.--Such are +the fruits of virtue, Willoughby. + +_Will._ Well--but her fortune is entirely dependent on my Lord's +consent, and how is that to be obtained? You know I am no favourite, and +Ennui is a great one. + +_Lady._ I know it, and therefore we must incense him against Ennui--let +me see----can't we contrive some mode,--some little ingenious story--he +is a singular character, you know, and has violent prejudices. + +_Will._ True--and of all his prejudices, none is so violent, or +entertaining, as that against authors and actors. + +_Lady._ Yes,--the stage is his aversion, and some way or other----I have +it--it's an odd thought, but may do much--suppose we tell him Ennui has +written a play. + +_Will._ The luckiest thought in the world! it will make him hate him +directly. + +_Lady._ Well, leave it to me--I'll explain the matter to him +myself,--and my life on't it proves successful. You see, Willoughby, my +only system is to promote happiness. + +_Will._ It is indeed, Lady Waitfor't--but if this fails, may I still +hope for your interest with Miss Courtney? + +_Lady._ Yes,--I'm determined she shall be yours, and neither Neville's +nor Ennui's.--But come, it's late--here he is. + +_Will._ We'll get rid of him. + + _Enter ENNUI._ + +_Lady._ Mr Ennui, your most obedient--we are going to the Parade--have +you seen your cousin Neville? + +_Ennui._ I've an idea--I've just left him. + +_Lady._ I suppose we shall see you at Lady Walton's this evening?--till +then, adieu. [_Exeunt LADY WAITFOR'T and WILLOUGHBY._ + +_Ennui._ I've an idea, I don't like this Lady Waitfor't--she wishes to +trick me out of my match with Miss Courtney, and if I could trick her in +return--[_Takes out his Watch._] How goes the enemy?--only one +o'clock!--I thought it had been that an hour ago!--heigho!--here's my +patron, Lord Scratch. + + _Enter LORD SCRATCH._ + +_Lord._ What a wonderful virtue is the art of hearing!--may I die, if a +listener be found any where:--Zounds! am not I a peer, and don't I talk +by prerogative?--and, if I mayn't talk ten times as much as another +person, what's the use of my peerage? + +_Ennui._ I've an idea--I don't comprehend you. + +_Lord._ That fellow Neville wouldn't hear a word I had to +say:--abandoned young dog!--he's come to Bath to invent tales against +that divinity, Lady Waitfor't, again, I suppose--but my ward, Louisa, +shall be put out of his power for ever--she shall marry you to-morrow. + +_Ennui._ In fact--I always forgot to give your lordship joy of your +title, though not of your dress. + +_Lord._ Not of my dress!--ay, ay;--that's the difference--you poor +devils, in humble life, are obliged to dress well, to look like +gentlemen--we peers may dress as we please--[_Looking at his watch._] +but I shall lose my appointments--past two o'clock. + +_Ennui._ Past two o'clock!--delightful! + +_Lord._ Delightful!--what, at your old tricks? + +_Ennui._ I'd an idea--it had been only one. + +_Lord._ And you're delighted because it's an hour later? + +_Ennui._ To be sure I am--my dear friend, to be sure I am--the enemy has +lost a limb. + +_Lord._ So you're happy, because you're an hour nearer the other +world?--tell me now,--do you wish to die? + +_Ennui._ No.--But I wish somebody would invent a new mode of killing +time--in fact, I think I've found one--private acting. + +_Lord._ Acting!--never talk to me about the stage--I detest a theatre, +and every thing that belongs to it: and if ever--but no matter--I must +to Lady Waitfor't, and prevail on her to marry me at the same time you +marry my ward.--But, remember our agreement--you are to settle your +estate on Louisa, and I am to bring you into parliament. + +_Ennui._ In fact, I comprehend--I am to be a hearer and not a speaker. + +_Lord._ Speaker!--if you open your mouth, the Chiltern Hundreds is your +portion.--Look ye--you are to be led quietly to the right side--to sleep +during the debate--give a nod for your vote,--and in every respect, move +like a mandarin, at my command;--in short, you are to be a mandarin +member.--So, fare you well till we're both married. [_Exit._ + +_Ennui._ I've an idea, here's Neville.--In fact--he knows nothing of my +marrying Louisa, nor shall he, till after the happy day.--Strange news, +Neville. + + _Enter NEVILLE._ + +_Nev._ I've heard it all. Louisa is going to be married; but to whom I +know not,--and my Lord persists in his fatal attachment to Lady +Waitfor't. + +_Ennui._ In fact--Why fatal? + +_Nev._ Because it is the source of every mischief.--While she maintains +her power over him, I have no hope of love or fortune:--When my father +died, he left his estate to my brother, relying on my lord providing for +me--and now, how he deserts me!--and all owing to the artifices of an +insidious woman. + +_Ennui._ I've an idea, I comprehend her motive--she loves you. + +_Nev._ Yes, 'tis too plain--and, because I would not listen to her +advances, she has ruined me in my uncle's opinion, and degraded me in +Louisa's;--but I will see Miss Courtney herself--I will hear my doom +from her own mouth; and if she avoids me, I will leave her, and this +country, for ever. + + _Enter PETER._ + +_Peter._ A letter, sir. + +_Nev._ Without direction!--What can it mean? + +_Peter._ Sir, 'tis from Lady Waitfor't.--The servant, who brought it, +said, her ladyship had reasons for not directing it, which she would +explain to you when she saw you. [_Exit._ + +_Nev._ Oh, the old stratagem:--as it is not directed, she may swear it +was designed for another person. [_Reads._ + + _Sir_, + + _I have heard of your arrival at Bath, and, strange as + my conduct may appear, I think it a duty I owe to the + virtuous part of mankind, to promote their happiness as + much as I can; I have long beheld your merit, and long + wished to encourage it.--I shall be at home at six this + evening. Yours,_ + + A. WAITFOR'T. + +_Ennui._ In fact--a very sentimental assignation, that would do as well +for any other man. + +_Nev._ If I show it to my lord, I know his bigotry is such, that he +would, as usual, only suppose it a trick of my own--the more cause there +is to condemn, the more he approves. + +_Ennui._ I've an idea, he's incomprehensible.--In fact--who have we +here? + +_Nev._ As I live, Vapid, the dramatic author--he is come to Bath to pick +up characters, I suppose. + +_Ennui._ In fact--pick up! + +_Nev._ Yes--he has the ardor scribendi upon him so strong, that he would +rather you'd ask him to write an epilogue to a new play, than offer him +your whole estate--the theatre is his world, in which are included all +his hopes and wishes.--In short, he is a dramatic maniac. And to such an +extent does he carry his folly, that if he were not the best natured +fellow in the world, every body would kick him out of doors. + +_Ennui._ Has he not a share of vanity in his composition? + +_Nev._ Oh yes--he fancies himself a great favourite with the women. + +_Ennui._ Then I've an idea--I've got a thought, by which you may revenge +yourself on Lady Waitfor't--in fact--give him the letter--he'll +certainly believe 'tis meant for himself. + +_Nev._ My dear friend, ten thousand thanks!--We'll flatter his vanity, +by persuading him she is young and beautiful, and my life on't it does +wonders;--but, hush, he comes. + + _Enter VAPID._ + +_Nev._ Vapid! I rejoice to see you,--'tis a long time since we met; give +me leave to introduce you to a particular friend of mine--Mr Ennui--Mr +Vapid. + +_Ennui._ I've an idea--you do me honour--Mr Vapid, I shall be proud to +be better acquainted with you--in fact--any thing of consequence +stirring in the fashionable or political world? + +_Vapid._ Some whispers about a new pantomime, sir,--nothing else. + +_Nev._ And I'm afraid, in the present scarcity of good writers, we have +little else to expect.--Pray, Vapid, how is the present dearth of genius +to be accounted for; particularly dramatic genius? + +_Vapid._ Why, as to dramatic genius, sir, the fact is this--to give a +true picture of life, a man should enter into all its scenes,--should +follow nature, sir--but modern authors plunder from one another--the +mere shades of shadows.--Now, sir, for my part, I dive into the world--I +search the heart of man;--'tis true I'm called a rake--but, upon my +soul, I only game, drink, and intrigue, that I may be better able to +dramatize each particular scene. + +_Nev._ A good excuse for profligacy.--But tell me, Vapid, have you got +any new characters since you came to Bath? + +_Vapid._ 'Faith, only two--and those not very new either. + +_Ennui._ In fact--may we ask what they are? + +_Vapid._ If you don't write. + +_Nev._ No, we certainly do not. + +_Vapid._ Then I'll tell you:--The first is a charitable divine, who, in +the weighty consideration how he shall best lavish his generosity, never +bestows it at all:--and the other is a cautious apothecary, who, in +determining which of two medicines is best for his patient, lets him die +for want of assistance.--You understand me, I think, this last will do +something, eh? + +_Ennui._ I've an idea--the apothecary would cut a good figure in a +comedy. + +_Vapid._ A comedy! pshaw! I mean him for a tragedy. + +_Ennui._ In fact--I don't comprehend, nor, possibly, the town. + +_Vapid._ I know it--that's the very thing--hark ye, I've found out a +secret--what every body understands, nobody approves; and people always +applaud most where they least comprehend.--There is a refinement, sir, +in appearing to understand things incomprehensible--else whence arises +the pleasure at an opera, a private play, or a speech in parliament? +why, 'tis the mystery in all these things--'tis the desire to find out +what nobody else can--to be thought wiser than others--therefore--you +take me--the apothecary is the hero of my tragedy. + +_Nev._ 'Faith, there is some reason in all this--and I'm amazed we have +so many writers for the stage. + +_Vapid._ So am I--and I think I'll write no more for an ungrateful +public--you don't know any body that has a play coming out, do you? + +_Nev._ No--why do you ask? + +_Vapid._ He'll want an epilogue you know, that's all. + +_Nev._ Why, you won't write him one, will you? + +_Vapid._ I! oh Lord! no;--but genius ought to be encouraged, and as he's +a friend of yours,--what's the name of the play? + +_Nev._ I really don't know any body that has written one. + +_Vapid._ Yes----yes----you do. + +_Nev._ Upon my word, I do not--a cousin of mine, indeed, wrote one for +his amusement, but I don't think he could ever be prevailed on to +produce it on the stage. + +_Vapid._ He prevailed on!--the manager you mean--but what did you think +of it? + +_Nev._ I never read it, but am told it is a good play--and if performed, +Vapid, he will be proud of your assistance. + +_Vapid._ I speak in time, because it is material--many a dull play has +been saved by a good epilogue. + +_Nev._ True--but I had almost forgot.--Why, Vapid, the lady in the Grove +will enlarge your knowledge amazingly. + +_Ennui._ I've an idea--she's the pattern of perfection. + +_Nev._ The paragon of beauty! Ah, Vapid! I would give worlds for the +coldest expression in this letter. + +_Vapid._ That letter!--what do you mean by that letter? + +_Nev._ And you really pretend not to know the young Lady Waitfor't? + +_Vapid._ No,--I hav'n't spoke to a woman at Bath,--but a sweet girl I +danced with at the ball; and who she is, by the Lord, I don't know. + +_Nev._ Well, but, Vapid--young Lady Waitfor't--she loves you to +distraction. + +_Vapid._ As I hope for fame, I never heard her name before. + +_Nev._ Then she has heard yours, and admires your genius; however, read +the letter, and be satisfied she loves you. [_VAPID reads._ + + _Arrived at Bath--duty I owe--virtuous part of + mankind--beheld your merit--wish to encourage--six this + evening.--A. Waitfor't--Grove._ + +_Vapid._ Yes, yes, it's plain enough now--she admires my talents!--It +isn't the first time, Neville, this has happened.--Sweet fond +fool!--I'll go and prepare myself directly. + +_Nev._ Ay do, Vapid,--she'll be all on fire to see you. + +_Vapid._ All on fire! I suppose so.--Write a play, Neville, write a +play--you see the effect of the muses and graces when they unite--you +see, Neville, you see----but, hold, hold--how the devil came you by this +letter? + +_Nev._ That's true enough. [_Aside._] I'll tell you--I was at her party +last night, and on coming out of the room she slipt it into my hand, and +desired me to direct it, and give it to you--She has often spoke to me +in your favour, and I did you all the good I could--however, to be sure +it's no mistake, ask the servant, who admits you, if the name at the +bottom is not her own hand-writing. + +_Vapid._ Oh, no!--it's no mistake,--there's no doubt of the +matter.--Write a play, Neville, write a play--and charm the ladies, you +dog!--adieu! [_Exit._ + +_Ennui._ I've an idea--if we've common fortune, this will do every +thing. + +_Nev._ No,--Lady Waitfor't's arts are numberless--she is so perfect a +hypocrite, that I even doubt her confessing her real sentiments to her +minion Willoughby; and when she does a bad action, she ever pretends +'tis from a good motive. + + _Enter VAPID._ + +_Vapid._ Gad, I forgot--you'll recollect the epilogue, Neville. + +_Nev._ Yes,--I'll write to my cousin to-day. + +_Vapid._ But, not a word of the love affair to him--any where else +indeed it might do one a service--but never tell an intrigue to a +dramatic author. + +_Ennui._ In fact--why not sir? + +_Vapid._ Because it may furnish a scene for a comedy--I do it +myself.--Indeed, I think the best part of an intrigue is the hopes of +incident, or stage effect--however, I can't stay. + +_Nev._ Nay, we'll walk with you--I, in pursuit of my brother--you, of +your mistress. + +_Vapid._ Ay, Neville, there it is--now, do take my advice, and write a +play--if any incident happens, remember, it is better to have written a +damned play, than no play at all--it snatches a man from obscurity--and +being particular, as this world goes, is a very great thing. + +_Nev._ But I confess I have no desire to get into print. + +_Vapid._ Get into print!--pshaw! every body gets into print now.--Kings +and quacks--peers and poets--bishops and boxers--tailors and trading +justices--can't go lower, you know--all get into print!--But we soar a +little higher,--we have privileges peculiar to ourselves.--Now, sir, +I--I, for my part, can talk as I please,--say what I will, it is sure to +excite mirth,--for, supposing you don't laugh at my wit, I laugh myself, +Neville, and that makes every body else do the same--so allons! + +_Ennui._ I've an idea--no bad mode of routing the enemy. [_Exeunt._ + + + + +ACT THE SECOND. + + +SCENE I. + + + _An Apartment in LADY WAITFOR'T'S House.--Two Chairs._ + + _Enter VAPID and a SERVANT._ + +_Serv._ Sir, my lady will wait on you immediately. + +_Vapid._ Hark ye, sir--Is this young lady of yours very handsome? + +_Serv._ Sir? + +_Vapid._ Is your young mistress, sir, very handsome? + +_Serv._ Yes, sir.--My young mistress is thought a perfect beauty. + +_Vapid._ Charming!--What age do you reckon her? + +_Serv._ About twenty, sir. + +_Vapid._ The right interesting age! and fond of the drama, I suppose? + +_Serv._ Sir? + +_Vapid._ Very fond of plays, I presume? + +_Serv._ Yes, sir, very fond of plays, or any thing relating to them. + +_Vapid._ Delightful!--now am I the happiest dog alive:--yes, yes, Vapid! +let the town damn your plays, the women will never desert you. [_Seats +himself._] You needn't stay, sir. [_Exit SERVANT._] That's a good sign, +that fellow isn't used to this kind of business--so much the +better--practice is the destruction of love----yes, I shall indulge a +beautiful woman,--gratify myself, and, perhaps, get the last scene for +my unfinished comedy. + + _Enter LADY WAITFOR'T._ + +_Lady._ Sir, your most obedient. + +_Vapid._ Ma'am. [_Bowing._ + +_Lady._ Pray keep your seat, sir--I beg I mayn't disturb you. + +_Vapid._ By no means, ma'am, give me leave--[_Both sit._] Who the devil +have we here? [_Aside._ + +_Lady._ I am told, sir, you have business for Lady Waitfor't? + +_Vapid._ Yes, ma'am--being my first appearance in that character, but I +could wait whole hours for so beautiful a woman. + +_Lady._ Oh, sir! + +_Vapid._ Yes--I am no stranger to her charms----sweet young creature! + +_Lady._ Nay, dear sir, not so _very_ young. + +_Vapid._ Your pardon, ma'am,--and her youth enhances her other +merits.--But, oh! she has one charm that surpasses all. + +_Lady._ Has she, sir?--What may that be? + +_Vapid._ Her passion for the stage. + +_Lady._ Sir! + +_Vapid._ Yes, her passion for the stage; that, in my mind, makes her the +first of her sex. + +_Lady._ Sir, she has no passion for the stage. + +_Vapid._ Yes, yes, she has. + +_Lady._ But I protest she has not. + +_Vapid._ But I declare and affirm it as a fact, she has a strong passion +for the stage, and a violent attachment for all the people that belong +to it. + +_Lady._ Sir, I don't understand you--explain. + +_Vapid._ Hark ye,--we are alone--I promise it shall go no further, and +I'll let you into a secret--I know---- + +_Lady._ Well, what do you know? + +_Vapid._ I know a certain dramatic author with whom she----he had a +letter from her this morning. + +_Lady._ What? + +_Vapid._ Yes,--an assignation--don't be alarmed--the man may be depended +on--he is safe--very safe!--Long in the habit of intrigue--a good person +too!--a very good person indeed. + +_Lady._ Amazement! + +_Vapid._ [_Whispering her._] Hark ye, he means to make her happy in less +than half an hour. + +_Lady._ [_Rising._] Sir, do you know who you're talking to?--do you know +who I am? + +_Vapid._ No,--How the devil should I? + +_Lady._ Then know I am Lady Waitfor't! + +_Vapid._ You Lady Waitfor't! + +_Lady._ Yes, sir--the only Lady Waitfor't! + +_Vapid._ Mercy on me!--here's incident! + +_Lady._ Yes, and I am convinced you were sent here by that traitor, +Neville.--Speak, is he not your friend? + +_Vapid._ Yes, ma'am:--I know Mr Neville.--Here's equivoque! + +_Lady._ This is some trick, some stratagem of his.--He gave you the +letter to perplex and embarrass me. + +_Vapid._ Gave the letter! 'gad that's great.--Pray, ma'am, give me leave +to ask you one question--Did you write to Mr Neville? + +_Lady._ Yes, sir,--to confess the truth, I did--but from motives---- + +_Vapid._ Stop, my dear ma'am, stop--I have it--now,--let me be +clear--first, you send him a letter; is it not so? yes: then he gives it +to me--very well: then I come (supposing you only twenty) mighty +well!--then you turn out ninety--charming!---then comes the +embarrassment: then the eclaircissement! Oh! it's glorious!--Give me +your hand--you have atoned for every thing. + +_Lady._ O! I owe all this to that villain, Neville--I am not +revengeful--but 'tis a weakness to endure such repeated provocations, +and I am convinced the mind, that too frequently forgives bad actions, +will at last forget good ones. + +_Vapid._ Bravo! encore, encore--it is the very best sentiment I ever +heard--say it again, pray say it again--I'll take it down, and blend it +with the incident, and you shall be gratified, one day or other, with +seeing the whole on the stage.--"The mind that too frequently forgives +bad actions will at last forget good ones." + [_Taking it down in his common place book._ + +_Lady._ This madman's folly is not to be borne--if my Lord too should +discover him. [_VAPID sits, and takes notes._] Here, the consequences +might be dreadful, and the scheme of Ennui's play all undone.--Sir, I +desire you'll quit my house immediately--Oh! I'll be revenged, I'm +determined. [_Exit._ + +_Vapid._ What a great exit!----Very well!--I've got an incident, +however.--'Faith, I have noble talents--to extract gold from lead has +been the toil of numberless philosophers; but I extract it from a baser +metal, human frailty--Oh! it's a great thing to be a dramatic genius!--a +very great thing indeed. [_As he is going,_ + + _Enter LORD SCRATCH._ + +_Vapid._ Sir, your most devoted,----How d'ye do? + +_Lord._ Sir, your most obedient. + +_Vapid._ Very warm tragedy weather, sir!--but, for my part, I hate +summer, and I'll tell you why,--the theatres are shut, and when I pass +by their doors in an evening, it makes me melancholy--I look upon them +as the tombs of departed friends that were wont to instruct and delight +me--I don't know how you feel--perhaps you are not in my way? + +_Lord._ Sir! + +_Vapid._ Perhaps you don't write for the stage--if you do,--hark +ye--there is a capital character in this house for a farce. + +_Lord._ Why! what is all this--who are you? + +_Vapid._ Who am I?--here's a question! in these times who can tell who +he is?--for aught I know I may be great uncle to yourself, or first +cousin to Lady Waitfor't--the very woman I was about to--but no +matter--since you're so very inquisitive, do you know who you are? + +_Lord._ Look ye, sir, I am Lord Scratch. + +_Vapid._ A peer! pshaw! contemptible;--when I ask a man who he is, I +don't want to know what are his titles, and such nonsense; no, Old +Scratch, I want to know what he has written, when he had the curtain up, +and whether he's a true son of the drama.--Harkye, don't make yourself +uneasy on my account--In my next pantomime, perhaps, I'll let you know +who I am, Old Scratch. [_Exit._ + +_Lord._ Astonishing! can this be Lady Waitfor't's house--"Very warm +tragedy weather, sir!" "In my next pantomime, let you know who I +am."--Gad, I must go and investigate the matter immediately, and if she +has wronged me, by the blood of the Scratches, I'll bring the whole +business before parliament, make a speech ten hours long, reduce the +price of opium, and set the nation in a lethargy. [_Exit._ + + +SCENE II. + + + _A Library in LADY WAITFOR'T'S House.--A Sofa and two Chairs._ + + _Enter VAPID._ + +_Vapid._ Either this house is a labyrinth, or I, in reflecting on my +incident, have forgot myself; for so it is I can't find my way out--who +have we here? by the sixtieth night, my little partner! + + _Enter MARIANNE, with a Book in her Hand._ + +_Mari._ The poet I danced with!--he little thinks how much I've thought +of him since--Sir. [_Courtesying._ + +_Vapid._ Ma'am. [_Bowing._] + +_Mari._ I hope, sir, you caught no cold the other night? + +_Vapid._ No, ma'am, I was much nearer a fever than a cold.--Pray, ma'am, +what is your study? + +_Mari._ I have been reading "All for Love."--Pray, sir, do you know any +thing about plays? + +_Vapid._ Know any thing about plays!--there's a question! + +_Mari._ I know so much about them, that I once acted at a private +theatre. + +_Vapid._ Did you? Then you acted for your own amusement, and nobody's +else: what was the play? + +_Mari._ I can't tell! + +_Vapid._ Can't tell? + +_Mari._ No,--nobody knew,--it's a way they have. + +_Vapid._ Then they never act a play of mine.--With all this partiality +for the stage--perhaps you would be content with a dramatist for +life--particularly if his morals were fine? + +_Mari._ Lord! I don't care about fine morals--I'd rather my husband had +fine teeth,--and I'm told most women of fashion are of the same opinion. + +_Vapid._ To be sure they are,--but could you really consent to run away +with a poet? + +_Mari._ 'Faith--with all my heart--they never have any money, you know, +and, as I have none, our distress would be complete; and, if we had any +luck, our adventures would become public, and then we should get into a +novel at last. + +_Vapid._ Into a prison, more probably--if she goes on in this way, I +must dramatize her first,--and run away with her afterwards. [_Aside._] +Come, are you ready? + +_Lady W._ [_Without._] Tell my lord, sir, I'll wait in the library. + +_Mari._ Oh lord! my aunt, what's to be done? + +_Vapid._ What's to be done!--why? + +_Mari._ She mustn't find you here--she'll be the death of us, she is so +violent. + +_Vapid._ Well, I'm not afraid--she's no manager. + +_Mari._ If you have any pity for me--here--hide yourself for a moment +behind this sofa, and I'll get her out of the room directly. + +_Vapid._ Behind the sofa! here's an incident! + +_Mari._ Nay--pray--she's here! come--quick!--quick!-- + + [_VAPID gets behind the Sofa, MARIANNE sits on it, takes + out her work bag, and begins singing----_ + +_Mari._ Toll de roll, &c. + + _Enter LADY WAITFOR'T._ + +_Lady._ Marianne, how came you here? I desire you'll leave the room +directly. + +_Mari._ Leave the room, aunt? + +_Lady._ Yes, leave the room immediately--what are you looking at? + +_Mari._ Nothing, aunt, nothing--Lord! lord! what will become of poor, +poor Mr Poet? [_Exit._ + +_Lady._ So--here's my lord--now to mention Ennui's play, and if it does +but prejudice him against him, Willoughby marries Louisa, and Neville is +in my own power. + + _Enter LORD SCRATCH._ + +_Lord._ That curst pantomime ruffian! nobody knows any thing about +him--perhaps my lady has got a sudden touch of the dramatic mania, and +prefers him--here she is--now if she would talk about the stage. + +_Lady._ Pray be seated, my lord--I want to ask you a favour. + +_Lord._ Ask me a favour? Is it possible? [_They sit._ + +_Lady._ Yes, for your friend Ennui--what do you think he has done? + +_Lord._ What? + +_Lady._ Turned author.--He has written a comedy. + +_Lord._ A comedy!--she has it. + +_Lady._ Yes--it's very true, and it has been approved of by men of the +first dramatic fame. + +_Lord._ Dramatic fame! she has it!--dam'me, she has it! + +_Lady._ Nay, if you need farther proof, my lord, it has been approved by +the manager of one of the theatres, and the curtain is to draw up next +winter. + +_Lord._ The curtain draw up!--Look ye, madam, I care no more for the +manager or his theatre---- + +_Lady._ Now, my lord, the favour I have to ask of you is this--promise +me to peruse the play, make alterations, and write the epilogue. + +_Lord._ The epilogue!--fire and forefathers! [_LADY holds him._ + +_Lady._ Ay, or the prologue. + +_Lord._ The prologue! blood and gunpowder! + + [_VAPID comes from behind the sofa, and smacks him on + the back._ + +_Vapid._ Prologue or epilogue!--I'm the man--I'll write you both. + +_Lord._ There he is again! + +_Lady._ Oh! I shall faint with vexation!--My lord, I desire you'll +misinterpret nothing--every thing shall be explained to you.--Marianne! + +_Lord._ Here's the curtain up with a vengeance! + + _Enter MARIANNE._ + +_Lady._ Answer me directly, how came that gentleman in this apartment? I +know it is some trick of yours. + +_Vapid._ [_Coming down the stage._] To be sure, never any thing was so +fortunate!--upon my soul, I beg your pardon; but, curse me, if I can +help laughing, to think how lucky it was for you both I happened to be +behind the sofa!--ha! ha! ha! + +_Mari._ [_As if taking the hint._] 'Faith, no more can I--to be sure it +was the luckiest thing in the world! ha! ha! ha! + + [_Here they both laugh loud, and point to my LORD, and + LADY WAITFOR'T, who stand, between them in amazement._ + +_Lady._ Sir, I insist you lay aside this levity, and instantly explain +how you came in this room. + +_Lord._ Ay, sir,--explain. + +_Vapid._ Never fear, old lady--I'll bring you off, depend on't. + +_Lady._ Bring me off, sir! speak out, sir, how came you in this +apartment? + +_Vapid._ With all my heart--by her ladyship's own appointment. + +_Lady._ My own appointment!----I shall run wild. + +_Vapid._ To be sure you have hardly forgot your own hand writing. + +_Lord._ Her own hand writing!--get on, sir,--I beseech you, get on. + +_Vapid._ Why, look ye, old Scratch,--you seem to be an admirer of this +lady's.--Now I think it my duty as a moral dramatist--a moral dramatist, +sir, mark that--to expose hypocrisy--therefore, sir, there is the +letter, read it, and be convinced of your error. + +_Lord._ Very well; have you done, sir--have you done?--consider I'm a +peer of the realm, and I shall die if I don't talk. + +_Vapid._ And now, sir, I must beg a favour of you--[_Gets close to +him._]--keep the whole affair secret, for if it gets hacknied, it loses +its force.--To bring it all on the stage: hush! say nothing--it will +have a capital effect, and brother bards will wonder where I stole +it--your situation will be wonderful--you hav'n't an idea how ridiculous +you will look--you will laugh very much at yourself, I assure you. + +_Lord._ What is all this! Well, now I will speak--I'll wait no longer. + +_Vapid._ Yes, yes, I shall take care of you,--Falstaff in the buck +basket will be nothing to it--he was only the dupe of another man's +wife,--you'll be the dupe of your own, you know--"think of that, Master +Brook, think of that." Well, your servant. [_Exit._ + +_Lord._ He's gone without hearing me!--then there's an end of every +thing, for here I stand, once a barrister,--since a country gentleman, +and now a peer; and, though I have made twenty attempts to speak, I +can't be heard a syllable,--mercy! what will this world come to! A peer, +and not be heard! + +_Lady._ My lord,--assured of my innocence, I have no doubt of justifying +my own conduct, and even by means of that letter increasing your +affection.--It was written to another person--your ungrateful nephew. + +_Lord._ My nephew? + +_Lady._ Yes, sir, I could not perceive him losing the esteem of his +friends, without having the desire to reclaim him--indeed, I knew no +better mode of fulfilling my project, than by personally warning him of +his situation.--For this purpose, I wrote that letter, and I never +thought it would have been thus misused.--If there is any improper +warmth in the expressions, it only proceeds from my anxiety of ensuring +an interview.--I hope, sir, you are satisfied. + +_Lord._ Why, I believe you, my lady; and I should be perfectly satisfied +if I could forget your passion for the stage, and that madman behind the +sofa. + +_Lady._ As to that, sir, this young lady can best inform you.--I desired +him to leave the house an hour ago. + +_Mari._ [_Aside._] I'm afraid my only way is to confess all.--My lord, +if I confess the truth, I hope you'll prevail on my aunt to forgive me. + +_Lord._ Tell what you know, and I'll answer for your forgiveness. + +_Mari._ Why, sir, I found the gentleman alone, and not having had a +_tźte-a-tźte_ a long time, I pressed him to stay, and, on hearing your +voice, I put him behind the sofa,--that you might not think any thing +had happened,--and, indeed, sir, nothing did happen--upon my word he's +as quiet, inoffensive a gentleman as yourself. + +_Lord._ My fears are over! Oh! you finished composition! come to my +arms, and when I suspect you again--[_Coughs much._]--this curst cough, +it takes one so suddenly! + + _Enter ENNUI._ + +_Ennui._ I've an idea--Floriville is arrived--in fact--I just now spoke +to him. + +_Lord._ Floriville arrived!--Come, my lady--let's go see what his +travels have done for him.--Hark ye, Ennui--prepare for your interview +with Louisa, and remember you make a mandarin member.--Come, my +lady--nay, never irritate your feelings. [_Exeunt LORD and LADY._ + +_Mari._ So--poor Mr Neville is to lose Miss Courtney.--Her present +quarrel with him is so violent, that she may marry this idiot merely in +revenge.--If I could dupe him now, and ensure her contempt.--I'll +try.--Mr Ennui, have you seen your intended wife yet? + +_Ennui._ No. + +_Mari._ So I thought--why you'll never please her while you remain as +you are.--You must alter your manners.--She is all life!--all +spirits!--and loves a man the very opposite to you. + +_Ennui._ I've an idea--I'm very sorry--in fact--how can I please her? + +_Mari._ There's the difficulty--let me see--the sort of man she prefers +is--you know Sir Harry Hustle?--a man all activity and confidence!--who +does every thing from fashion, and glories in confessing it. + +_Ennui._ Sir Harry Hustle?--in fact--he's a modern blood of fashion. + +_Mari._ I know--that's the reason she likes him, and you must become the +same, if you wish to win her affection--a new dress--bold looks--a few +oaths, and much swaggering, effects the business. [_ENNUI puts himself +in attitudes._] Ay, that's right, you are the very man already. + +_Ennui._ I'm a lad of fashion!--eh, dam'me!--I've an idea--I shall fall +asleep in the midst of it. + +_Mari._ No, no;--go about it directly--see Sir Harry Hustle, and study +your conversation before hand--but remember Louisa is so fond of +fashion, that you can't boast too much of its vices and absurdities. + +_Ennui._ If virtue was the fashion, I should be virtuous!--I should, +dam'me! + +_Mari._ Ay, that's the very thing--well;--good bye, Mr Ennui--success +attend you--mind you talk enough. + +_Ennui._ Talk!--I'll talk till I fall asleep!--I will! dam'me! + [_Exit, swaggering.--MARIANNE laughing._ + + + + +ACT THE THIRD. + + +SCENE I. + + + _A Saloon in LADY WAITFOR'T'S House._ + + _LOUISA discovered reading._ + +_Louisa._ Heigho! these poets are wonderfully tiresome--always on the +same theme--nothing but love--I'm weary of it. [_Lays down the book, and +rises._] Ungenerous Neville! how could he use me so cruelly? to attempt +to gain my affections, and then address another? Lady Waitfor't has +convinced me of the fact,--I can never forgive him: yet, I fear I love +him still--well, I'll even go examine my heart, and determine whether I +do love him or not. + + _Enter NEVILLE, as she is going out._ + +Mr Neville!--I thought, sir, I had desired we might never meet again. + +_Nev._ 'Tis true, madam, and I meant to obey your commands, hard as they +were, implicitly obey them--but I came hither to welcome my brother, and +not to intrude on the happiness of her I am doomed to avoid. + +_Louisa._ If I remember, sir, truth was ever among the foremost of your +virtues? + +_Nev._ Yes--and I am confident you have no reason to doubt it--though +you have cause to censure my presumption, you have none to suspect my +fidelity. + +_Louisa._ Oh no!--I don't suspect your fidelity in the least, but when +people are faithful to more than one, you know, Mr Neville---- + +_Nev._ I don't understand you, ma'am. + +_Louisa._ It is no matter, Mr Neville--you may spare yourself any +trouble in attempting to justify your conduct--I am perfectly satisfied, +sir, I'll assure you. [_Going._ + +_Nev._ Oh, do not leave me in this anxious state!--perhaps this is the +last time we shall ever meet, and to part thus, would embitter every +future moment of my life. Indeed, I have no hopes that concern not your +happiness--no wishes that relate not to your esteem. + +_Louisa._ Sir,--I will freely confess to you, had you shown the least +perseverance in your affection or sincerity in your behaviour, I could +have heard your addresses with pleasure--but to listen to them now, Mr +Neville, would be to approve a conduct, my honour prompts me to resent, +and my pride to despise. + +_Nev._ Then I am lost indeed!--'Tis to the perfidious Lady Waitfor't I +owe all this--my present + + _Enter LADY WAITFOR'T, behind._ + +misery--my future pain--are all the product of her jealous rage!--She is +so vile a hypocrite, that-- + +_Lady._ [_Coming forward._] Who is a hypocrite, sir? + +_Nev._ Madam! + +_Lady._ Who is a hypocrite, sir? answer me. + +_Nev._ Ask your own heart, that can best inform you. + +_Lady._ Tell me, Mr Neville, what have I done, that you dare insult me +thus? + +_Nev._ What have you done! look on that lady, madam;--there all my hopes +and wishes were combined!--There was the very summit of my bliss!--I +thought I had attained it; but in the moment of my happiness, you came, +crushed every hope, and baffled all my joys. + +_Lady._ Upon my word, sir, very romantic,--but I thank Heaven, I look +for approbation in a better opinion than that of Mr Neville's. + +_Nev._ 'Tis well you do, madam; for were I your judge, your punishment +should be exemplary.--But I'll waste words no more--I only hope [_To +LOUISA._] you, madam, are satisfied that one of my errors may at least +be forgiven, and this last suspicion for ever blotted from your memory. + +_Lady._ Sir,--from that lady's forgiveness you have nothing to +expect--if she consents to pardon you, I'll take care my lord never +shall. + +_Nev._ No--I do not hope for forgiveness--I have heard her +determination; and, cruel as it is, to that I must resign;--she may be +assured I never will intrude where I know I offend. + +_Louisa._ Do you then leave us, Mr Neville? + +_Nev._ Yes, madam,--and for ever!----May you be as blest in the +gratification of your hopes as I have been wretched in the +disappointment of mine. [_Exit._ + +_Lady._ Tyrant! I wish he had stayed to hear reason--I hope he is not +serious in leaving us. + +_Louisa._ You hope!--Why does it concern you? + +_Lady._ Oh! no further than from that general love I bear mankind.--You +forget my feelings on these occasions, Louisa. + +_Louisa._ Yes, indeed--I have too much reason to attend to my +own!--You'll excuse me--I have particular business--I'll return +immediately. [_Exit._ + +_Lady._ Oh! the cause of her confusion is evident--she loves him +still--but they shall never meet again--I have already sent a letter to +Willoughby, which imparts a scheme I have long cherished. My lord, in +his anger about my stage mania, has forgot Ennui's play; so, that there +may be no bars to Willoughby's happiness, I am determined Louisa shall +be his this very night. + + _Enter LORD SCRATCH._ + +_Lord._ Here's a spectacle for a peer! Floriville is below, and has +returned from his travels a finished coxcomb.--I'll not give him a +farthing. + +_Lady._ Nay, my lord, perhaps you may be mistaken. + +_Lord._ Mistaken! no,--he has travelled not to see, but to say he had +seen. + + _Enter MARIANNE, with a French Watch and Chain._ + +_Mari._ Oh, uncle-in-law! look here----I never saw any thing so elegant +in all my life. + +_Lord._ Whose present is this? + +_Mari._ Whose!--why the sweet gentleman's just arrived from +Italy.--Lord! he's a dear man!--He has promised to do every thing for +me--to get me a fortune--to get me a husband--to get me a---- + +_Lord._ Hush! you don't know what you are talking about. + +_Mari._ Yes, but I do, though--he has told me every thing--Lord! I have +heard such things!--Come here, near--[_LORD SCRATCH gets close to her._] +get my aunt out of the room, and I'll tell you stories that shall make +your old heart bound again! Hush! do it quietly--I will, upon my +honour.--What an old fool it is! [_Aside._ + +_Lady._ Marianne, you mustn't listen to Mr Floriville,--for travellers +may persuade you into any thing--and many a woman has been ruined in one +country, by being told it is the fashion in another. + +_Lord._ Here he comes: I see, as plain as my peerage, I sha'n't keep my +temper. + + _Enter FLORIVILLE._ + +_Flor._ Ladies, a thousand pardons, for not waiting on you before, but +this is the first vacant moment I have had since my arrival in Bath. + +_Mari._ Sir, your coming at all is taken as a very great compliment, +I'll assure you. + +_Lady._ Leave the room immediately--no reply--I will be obeyed--[_To +MARIANNE, who exits._] Mr Floriville, we are very happy to see you. + +_Flor._ Ma'am, you do me honour--my lord, where's Harry?--I thought to +have found him here;--what, he didn't chuse to stay?--so much the +better--it shows he's not a man of ceremony--we do the same in Italy. +But, hark ye, uncle,--is this the lady I'm to call my aunt? + +_Lord._ My gorge is rising: I shall certainly do him a mischief. + +_Flor._ [_Spying at her._] Rather experienced or so--a little antique, +eh!--however, the same motive that makes her a good aunt to me, will +make her a good wife to you--you understand me? + +_Lord._ Dam'me if I do. + +_Flor._ Well, well, no matter--come, I want to hear every thing--to know +what remarkable occurrences have happened since I left England.--Pray, +Lady Waitfor't, inform me--do let me know every little circumstance. + +_Lady._ Rather, sir, we should ask of you what happened in your travels? + +_Flor._ Oh, nothing so shocking!--no man can be the herald of his own +praise. + +_Lady._ Yes, sir,--but I wish to know how you like the Chapel of +Loretto, the Venus de Medicis of Florence, the Vatican at Rome, and all +the numberless curiosities peculiar to the countries you have travelled +through? + +_Lord._ Look ye--I'll answer for it, he knows nothing of the gentlemen +you mention--do you, my sweet pretty?--Oh! you damned puppy! + +_Flor._ Why swear, my lord? + +_Lord._ Swear, my lord! Zounds! it's my prerogative, and, by----tell me +how you spent your time, sir? + +_Flor._ Why, in contemplating living angels, not dead antiquities;--in +basking in the rays of beauty, not mouldering in the dust of +ancestry;--in mirth, festivity, and pleasure; not study, pedantry, and +retirement.--Oh, I have lived, sir! lived for myself, not an ungrateful +world, who, should I die a martyr to their cause, would only laugh and +wonder at my folly. + +_Lady._ You seem to know the world, Mr Floriville. + +_Flor._ No, ma'am, I know little of mankind, and less of myself,--I have +no pilot, but my pleasures;--no mistress, but my passions;--and I don't +believe, if it was to save my life, I could reason consequentially for a +minute together. + +_Lord._ Granted:--you have seen every thing worth seeing, yet know +nothing worth knowing;--and now you have just knowledge enough to prove +yourself a fool on every subject. + +_Flor._ Vastly well, my lord--upon my word, you improve with your title, +but I am perfectly satisfied, believe me--for what I don't know, I take +for granted is not worth knowing--therefore we'll call another +topic.--I'm in love, my lord. + +_Lord._ In love!--with who, sir? + +_Flor._ Can't you guess? + +_Lord._ No, sir, I cannot. + +_Flor._ With one that will please you very much--at least, ought to +please you--you'll be in raptures, dear uncle. + +_Lord._ Raptures! and you shall be in agonies, my dear nephew. + +_Flor._ You have known one another a long while, yet you hav'n't met for +years--you have loved one another a long while, yet you quarrelled not +an hour ago--you have differed from one another all your lives, yet you +are likely to be friends as long as you live--and, above all, the person +is now in the house. + +_Lord._ In this house! let me know who it is this moment, or by the +blood of the Scratches---- + +_Flor._ One who has charms enough to set the world on fire;--one who has +fortune enough to set a state at war, sir;--one who has talents, health, +and prosperity, and yet not half what the person deserves:--can you tell +now, sir? + +_Lord._ No, sir, and if you don't tell this instant---- + +_Flor._ Then I'll tell you, [_Slaps him on the back._] it's myself, sir! +my own charming self!--I have searched the world over, and I don't find +any thing I like half so well. [_Walks up the stage._ + +_Lord._ I won't disgrace myself,--I won't lower the dignity of peerage, +by chastising a commoner;--else, you Prince of Butterflies----come, my +lady----look ye, sir--I intend to be handed down to posterity; and, +while you are being lampooned in ballads and newspapers, I mean to cut a +figure in the History of England:--so, come along, my lady--in the +History of England, you coxcomb! [_Exeunt LORD and LADY._ + +_Flor._ If the face is the picture of the mind, that intended aunt of +mine is a great hypocrite, and the story I heard of the poet proves +it.--But now for a frolic--'gad it's very strange I could never reform, +and become a serious thinking being--but what's the use of thinking? + + Reason stays till we call, and then not oft is near, + But honest instinct comes a volunteer!-- [_Exit._ + + +SCENE II. + + + _An Apartment in LADY WAITFOR'T'S House._ + + _Enter WILLOUGHBY and SERVANT._ + +_Will._ [_To SERVANT._] Tell your mistress I shall be punctual to the +appointment. [_Exit SERVANT._] So, thanks to fortune, Lady Waitfor't has +at length consented to my entreaties, and this night makes Louisa mine +for ever!--now to read the letter once more. [_Reads._ + + _Louisa accompanies me to-night to Lady Walton's, which + you know is at the extremity of the town--on some + pretence or other I'll tell her I have ordered the + servant at the back gate which adjoins the + paddock,--there I'll leave her--and if you have a + chaise waiting near the spot, you may conduct her where + you please.--You know my feelings on this occasion, but + it is for her good only, I'll assure you--she don't + deserve it, Mr Willoughby:--indeed she don't deserve + it._ + + A. WAITFOR'T. + +So--this is beyond my hopes!--ha! my Lord, and Louisa with him, come to +receive Ennui, whom, to my astonishment, I met just now swearing and +capering, and boasting of the vices of fashion--but no matter--I must to +the rendezvous immediately--now, Louisa, tremble at my vengeance! + [_Exit._ + + _Enter LORD SCRATCH and LOUISA._ + +_Lord._ Yes, yes:--Ennui will be here in an instant--but he's so +reserved--and so mild-- + +_Louisa._ So I understand, sir--and so very silent, that he won't talk +so much in a year, as I intend in an hour. + +_Lord._ I know--that's the reason I bring him into parliament--he'll +never speak--only say "Ay" or "No," and be up stairs to beef-steaks in +an instant, [_Knock._] Here he is!--now encourage him--don't mind his +diffidence-- + +_Louisa._ No, sir--I'll do all in my power to make him talk. + +_Lord._ That's well--I'll leave you together--I won't interrupt you, +[_Stamping without._] Odso!--I must get out of the way,--encourage him; +Louisa--I beseech you encourage him! [_Exit._ + +_Ennui._ [_Without._] Stand by! no ceremony, damme!-- + +_Louisa._ Heaven!--is this diffidence? + + _Enter ENNUI and SERVANT._ + +_Ennui._ Get down stairs, you dog--get down,--[_Exit SERVANT._] Here I +am, ma'am:--ease is every thing--I'll seat myself--now for +business!--yaw--aw!-- [_Yawns aside._ + +_Louisa._ Sir! + +_Ennui._ In one word, I'll tell you my character,--I'm a lad of +fashion!--I love gaming--I hate thinking--I like racing--I despise +reading--I patronize boxing--I detest reasoning--I pay debts of +honour,--not honourable debts--in short, I'll kick your servants--cheat +your family, and fight your guardian--and so if you like me, take +me--heh, damme!--I'm tired already!--yaw--aw. [_Yawns aside._ + +_Louisa._ Astonishing!--Mr Ennui-- + +_Ennui._ Ma'am? yaw--aw! [_Aside._ + +_Louisa._ Mr Ennui, can you be in your senses? + +_Ennui._ In fact--I don't comprehend [_Forgetting +himself._]--Oh--ay--senses! [_Recollecting himself._] a lad of fashion +in his senses!--that's a very good joke!--if one of us had any sense, +the rest would shut him up in a cabinet of curiosities, or show him as a +wonderful animal:--they would, damme!--I can't support it!--yaw--aw! + [_Yawns aside._ + +_Louisa._ So, you glory in your ignorance? + +_Ennui._ Ma'am--yaw! aw! [_Aside._ + +_Louisa._ So, you glory in your ignorance--in your vices? + +_Ennui._ I've an idea--I can't understand--[_Forgetting +himself._]--vices! Oh:--ay, damme, to be sure; [_Recollecting himself._] +you must be wicked, or you can't be visited--singularity is every +thing,--every man must get a character, and I'll tell you how I first +got mine:--I pretended to intrigue with my friend's wife,--paragraph'd +myself in the newspapers,--got caricatured in the print-shops--made the +story believed,--was abused by every body,--noticed for my gallantry by +every body--and at length visited by every body--I was, damme!--I'm +curst sleepy,--yaw--aw! [_Yawns aside._ + +_Louisa._ Incredible!--but if singularity is your system, perhaps being +virtuous would make you as particular as any thing. + +_Ennui._ Vastly well!--'gad, you're like me, a wit, and don't know it. +[_Taking out his Watch._] How goes the enemy?--more than half the day +over!--tol de rol lol! [_Humming a tune._] I'm as happy as if I was at a +fire, or a general riot.--Come to my arms, thou angel--thou--[_As he +goes to embrace her, LORD SCRATCH enters--he embraces him._] +Ah,--Scratch!--my friend Scratch!--sit down, my old boy--sit +down,--we've settled every thing. [_Forces him into a Chair, and sits by +him._] + +_Lord._ Why,--what is all this? + +_Ennui._ She's to intrigue, and you and I are to go halves in the +damages--some rich old Nabob--we'll draw him into _crim. con._--bring an +action directly, and a ten thousand pound verdict at least--eh, damme!-- + +_Lord._ Why he's mad!--that dramatic maniac has bit him. + +_Ennui._ Get a divorce--marry another, and go halves again, damme! + +_Lord._ [_Rising._] Why, look ye, you impostor!--you--didn't you come +here to pay your addresses to this lady? and wasn't I to bring you into +parliament, for your quiet silent disposition? + +_Ennui._ [_Pushing him out of his way._] Hold your tongue! out of the +way, Scratch!--out of the way, or I'll do you a mischief--I will, +damme!--Zounds!--a'nt I at the top of the beau monde? and don't I set +the fashions?--if I was to cut off my head, wouldn't half the town do +the same?--they would, damme!--I get sleepy again!--yaw--aw!-- [_Aside._ + +_Lord._ Here now!--here's a mandarin member;--why, he'd have bred a +civil war!--made ten long speeches in a day!--cut your head off, +indeed!--curse me but I wish you would--you must be silent then--you +couldn't talk without a head, could you? + +_Ennui._ Yes, in parliament--as well without a head as with one--do you +think a man wants a head for a long speech, damme!-- + + _Enter SERVANT._ + +_Servant._ Her ladyship is waiting, ma'am. + +_Louisa._ Oh, I attend her,--Mr Ennui, your most obedient. + +_Ennui._ [_Taking her Hand._] With your leave, ma'am.--You see, +Scratch--you see. + +_Lord._ Why, Louisa!-- + +_Ennui._ Keep your distance, Scratch--contemplate your superiors,--look +at me with the same awful respect a city beau looks at a prince,--this +way, most angelic--Scratch, cut your head off--this way, most angelic. + [_Exit with LOUISA._ + +_Lord._ Here's treatment!--was ever poor peer so tormented?--what am I +to do?--I'll go to Lady Waitfor't, for from her alone I meet +relief,--find a silent member, indeed!--by my privilege one might as +soon find a pin in the ocean,--charity in a bench of bishops,--or wit in +Westminster hall! [_Exit._ + + + + +ACT THE FOURTH. + + +SCENE I. + + + _The Paddock near LADY WALTON'S House--A View of the + House at a distance, and partly moonlight._ + + _WILLOUGHBY alone._ + +_Willoughby._ 'Tis past the hour Lady Waitfor't appointed--why does she +delay? I cannot have mistaken the place--yonder's Lady Walton's +house--Oh! 'would all were past, and Louisa safely mine! I hear a +noise--by Heaven 'tis she! and with her all my happiness--I'll withdraw +a while, and observe them. [_Retires._ + + _Enter LADY WAITFOR'T and LOUISA COURTNEY._ + +_Louisa._ My dear Lady Waitfor't, why do you loiter here? you cannot +find your servants in this place--let us return to Lady Walton's. + +_Lady._ No, no, they must be here,--I ordered them to wait in this very +spot, to avoid confusion. What can have become of Willoughby? [_Aside._ + +_Louisa._ If you have the least sense of fear for yourself, or regard +for me, I beg we may return to Lady Walton's. + +_Lady._ No, no, I tell you I ordered William at the back gate, that he +might conduct us through the paddock to our carriage; you know we might +have been whole hours getting through the crowd the other way--do be a +little patient, hav'n't I as much reason to be alarmed as yourself? + +_Louisa._ Yes, but you have not the apprehension I have; I don't know +why, but I am terrified beyond description. + +_Lady._ Well, well, never fear; [_Looking out._] Oh, yonder's +Willoughby! now for the grand design! [_Aside._] Louisa, if you'll wait +here a moment I'll step to the next gate, and see if they are +there;--they cannot escape us then. + +_Louisa._ No, no, don't leave me;--I wouldn't stay by myself for the +world. + +_Lady._ Ridiculous! can't you protect yourself for an instant? must you +be all your life watch'd like a baby in leading-strings? Oh! I am +ashamed of you--only wait a moment, lest they pass by in my absence, and +I'll return to you immediately. + +_Louisa._ Well: don't stay. + +_Lady._ Stay! what have you to be frightened at? I shall not be out of +call;--besides, if there's any fear of a personal attack, may not I be +as terrified as yourself? It isn't the first time, I'll assure you, but +that's no matter;--show yourself a woman of spirit, and, at least, +emulate one of my virtues.--Now, Willoughby, the rest is thine! [_Exit._ + + _WILLOUGHBY comes forward._ + +_Willoughby._ Be not alarmed, Miss Courtney. + +_Louisa._ Mr Willoughby! + +_Willoughby._ Yes, madam; the man you most avoid. + +_Louisa._ Tell me, sir, immediately, how, and by whose appointment, you +came here? + +_Willoughby._ By love, madam; the same passion that has prompted me to +pursue you for years, now happily conducts me hither;--I come to lessen +your fears, not to increase them. + +_Louisa._ Then, leave me, sir, I can protect myself. + +_Willoughby._ No, not till you have heard and pitied me; I have been +long your suitor, and long scorned by you; you have treated me with +indifference, and preferred my inferiors; how I have deserved all this, +yourself can best explain, but, to prove all former cruelties are +forgotten, I here offer you my hand, and, with it, my heart. + +_Louisa._ Sir,--this is no time for hearing you on this subject; if you +wish to oblige me, leave me. + +_Willoughby._ No, not till I am answered;--years may elapse ere I shall +have another opportunity like the present, therefore no time can be so +well as now. + +_Louisa._ Then I command you to leave me,--I will not be threatened into +a compliance. + +_Willoughby._ Look ye, Miss Courtney--I would avoid taking advantage of +your situation--nay, start not--but if you persist in your contempt of +me, I know not to what extremities passion may hurry me; I have every +motive for redress, and, if you do not instantly give me your word, to +prefer me to that beggar Neville, I may do that, my cooler sense would +scorn. + +_Louisa._ Beggar, sir! + +_Willoughby._ Yes; and, were he not beneath my resentment, I'd tell you +more;--but he is too poor--too-- + +_Louisa._ Hold, sir; did you resemble him, I might esteem, nay, adore +you; but as you are, I loath, I despise, I defy you;--you take advantage +of my situation!--Hear me, sir,--though not a friend is near,--though +night opposes me, and Heaven deserts me, yet can I smile upon your +menaces, and make you tremble, villain as you are. + +_Willoughby._ Have a care, madam! another declaration like that, and +I'll delay no longer;--I'll force you to my purpose. + +_Louisa._ You dare not, on your life you dare not. + +_Willoughby._ Nay, then--I am not to be terrified by threats,--[_Lays +hold of her._] all struggling is in vain; this moment gratifies my +revenge,--away! + +_Louisa._ Off,--let me go! Oh, help! help! + + [_As he is forcing her out, enter FLORIVILLE, half + drunk._] + +_Flor._ "Donne, donne, donne, dow." [_Singing part of an Italian air._] +Oh, this burgundy's a glorious liquor! hey-day! who have we here? + +_Louisa._ Oh, sir! if you have any pity for an injured, helpless woman, +assist one who never knew distress till now! + +_Flor._ Go on, ma'am, go on--both damn'd drunk I perceive. + +_Louisa._ Do not be deaf to my entreaties--do not desert me-- + +_Flor._ Go on, ma'am, go on--I love oratory in a woman. + +_Louisa._ Gracious Heaven! how have I deserved all this? I see, sir, you +avoid me. I see you are indifferent to my fate. + +_Flor._ No, ma'am, you wrong me--but in Italy--observe--we always take +these things coolly--now, sir, will you explain? + +_Willoughby._ No, sir, I will not. + +_Flor._ You will not? + +_Willoughby._ No, sir, and I warn you not to listen to the wild ravings +of a senseless woman--it may be better for you, sir. + +_Flor._ Why so, Prince Prettiman? + +_Willoughby._ No matter, sir, I will not be amused from my purpose. + +_Flor._ You won't, old Pluto, won't you? then, ma'am, observe! you shall +behold my mode of fighting--I'll kill him like a gentleman, and he shall +die without a groan;--you'll be delighted, ma'am--I learnt it all in +Italy.--Come, Belzebub, are you ready? + +_Willoughby._ 'Sdeath! what can I do? he is drunk, perhaps I may disarm +him. + +_Flor._ Now, thou original sin, thou prince of darkness! come out; never +let her see thy black infernal visage more, or by my life I'll pulverize +you--you see, ma'am, no bad orator either--learnt it all in Italy. + +_Willoughby._ Come on, sir. + +_Flor._ Ay, now old Sysiphus, push home--but fight like a gentleman, if +you can, for remember, there is a lady in company--observe, ma'am, +observe; you won't see it again. [_They fight.--FLORIVILLE disarms +WILLOUGHBY._] + +_Flor._ What, vanquished, Tarquin? hah! hah! [_Parrying up and down the +stage by himself._]--You see, ma'am, you see!--Oh! Italy's your only +country!--Now, ma'am, would you have me kill him here, "in Allegro," or +postpone it, that you may have the pleasure of pinking him yourself, "in +Penseroso?" + +_Louisa._ [_Coming near FLORIVILLE, and discovering him._] Floriville, +my deliverer!--generous man!--No, sir, whatever are his crimes, do not +kill him; his greatest punishment will be to live. + +_Flor._ There, then, caitiff, take your sword, and, d'ye hear? +retire;--that black front of thine offends the lady;--if you want +another flourish, you will soon find Floriville--abscond. + +_Willoughby._ Sir, you shall hear from me--distraction! [_Exit._ + +_Flor._ And now, my dear little angel, how can I assist you? I'm very +sorry that I can't help it--I'm cursed drunk, and not proper company for +a lady of your dignity,--but I won't affront you,--I mean to make myself +agreeable, and if I do not--it is the fault of that place, [_Pointing to +his head._] and not of this, [_Pointing to his heart._] + +_Louisa._ Sir, your conduct has endeared you to me for ever, and while I +live, your generosity and valour shall be engraven on my heart. + +_Flor._ Gently, gently, have a care, make no declarations; if you are in +love with me, as I suppose you are, keep it secret,--for at this moment +you might raise a flame that would consume us both;--poor creature! how +fond she is of me! any other time I would indulge her, but not +now--[_Looks at her sometime, then runs, and kisses her hand._]--Oh, you +paragon!--"Angels must paint to look as fair as you."--[_Goes from her +again._]--I'll leave you, or, by Heaven, it will be all over with us. + +_Louisa._ No, no, don't desert me! alas! I have no way left but to +commit myself to your care--if I could bring him to recollect me, all +would be safe. Mr Floriville, don't you know me? + +_Flor._ No, 'would to Heaven I did. + +_Louisa._ What, not Miss Courtney? + +_Flor._ What, Louisa? my brother's idol? + +_Louisa._ Alas! the very same. + +_Flor._ Then may I die, if I don't get out of your debt before I leave +you--where--where shall I conduct you? + +_Louisa._ I know not--return to lady Waitfor't's again, I will not--I +had rather be a wanderer all my life--to lady Walton's there is no +excuse for returning, and I know no friend in Bath I dare intrude +upon.--I have so high an opinion, Mr Floriville, of your honour, that, +notwithstanding your present situation, there is no man on earth I would +sooner confide in;--can you then think of any place where I may rest in +safety for a few hours, and then I will set out for my uncle's in the +country. + +_Flor._ Indeed I cannot, I am a wanderer myself;--I have no home but +what this gentleman is to purchase me [_Taking out his purse._]--you +cannot partake of that. + +_Louisa._ Oh! what will become of me? + +_Flor._ Let me see--I have it--I'll take her to my brother's;--she'll be +safe there, and not a soul shall come near her.--Well, Miss Courtney,--I +have recollected a place where I know you'll be safe--a friend's house, +that will be as secure--nay, don't droop--in Italy we're never +melancholy. + +_Louisa._ Oh, Mr Floriville, to what a hazard has lady Waitfor't exposed +me!--to her perfidy I owe it all--but yonder's that wretch again--pray +let us begone. + +_Flor._ Belzebub again,--no, no, we mustn't stir;--what! an angel fly +from a devil? damme, I'll stay and crush him. + +_Louisa._ Nay, sir, reflect,--'twere madness to remain. + +_Flor._ 'Faith that's true; I believe it's braver to retire,--therefore, +Tarquin, adieu; come, my best angel! I'll fight your battles, and if I +don't sink all your enemies, may I never see Italy again as long as I +live! [_Exeunt._ + + _Enter WILLOUGHBY._ + +_Willoughby._ Ha! gone,--I am sorry for it--I would have seen them--lady +Waitfor't has just left me, and treated me like her slave,--insulted and +derided me; but I'll have done with her for ever,--I'll be her dupe no +more;--she is now gone to Neville's lodgings, under pretence of pursuing +Louisa, but, in fact, to see him, and prevent his leaving Bath;--this I +will write to my lord, and then let him follow, and be witness of her +infamy;--thus, I hope, I shall make some reparation for the wrongs I +have committed, and prove at last I have some sense of virtue. [_Exit._ + + +SCENE II. + + + _NEVILLE'S Lodgings--A Closet in back Scene.--Two + Chairs, and a Table, with Wine on it.--A knocking at the + Door._ + + _Enter PETER, reading a Card._ + +_Peter._ _Vapid presents his compliments to his friend Neville; has +thought of nothing but writing the epilogue for his friend's play since +they parted; he has made great progress, and will wait on him to take +his judgment on it in a few minutes._ If the gentleman should come +soon, I fear my master won't be at home to receive him. + + [_Knocks.--PETER opens the Door, and lets in VAPID._ + +_Vapid._ Well, here it is;--where's Neville? + +_Peter._ Not within, sir. + +_Vapid._ Yes, yes, here it is:--I must see him. + +_Peter._ Sir, he's gone out. + +_Vapid._ Gone out? impossible! + +_Peter._ Impossible! it's very true, sir. + +_Vapid._ Gone out! why, I've brought him the epilogue--the new epilogue +to Mr What's-his-name's comedy; the very best thing I ever wrote in my +life; I knew it would delight him. + +_Peter._ Sir, he has been gone out above these two hours. + +_Vapid._ Then he'll never forgive himself as long as he lives; why, it's +all correct--all chaste! only one half line wanting at the end to make +it complete. + +_Peter._ Indeed, sir, it's very unfortunate. + +_Vapid._ Unfortunate! I wanted to have heard him read it too; when +another person reads it, one often hits on a thought that might +otherwise have escaped; then, perhaps, he would have hit on that cursed +half line, I have so long been working at. + +_Peter._ Sir, if it is not impertinent, and you'd permit me to read it-- + +_Vapid._ You read it! + +_Peter._ Yes, sir, if you'd allow me that honour. + +_Vapid._ 'Faith, I should have no objection,--but wouldn't it lower +one's dignity? No, no, Moliere used to read his plays to his servants, +so I believe all's regular.--Come, sir, begin. + [_PETER reading Epilogue._ + + In ancient times, when agonizing wars, + And bleeding nations, fill'd the world with jars; + When murder, battle, sudden death, prevail'd, + When---- + +_Vapid._ Stop--stop--I have it: not a word for your life; I feel +it--it's coming on--the last line directly--quick! quick! + [_PETER reads._ + + The tyrant totters, and the senate nods, + Die all, die nobly!---- + +_Peter._ Here's something wanting, sir. + +_Vapid._ I know it, say nothing--I have it-- + [_Walks backwards and forwards._ + + The tyrant totters, and the senate nods, + Die all, die nobly!---- + +Oh, damn it! damn it! damn it!--that cursed half line!--I shall never +accomplish it--all so chaste--all so correct,--and to have it marr'd for +want of one half line,--one curst half line! I could almost weep for +disappointment. + +_Peter._ Never mind, sir, don't perplex yourself,--put in any thing. + +_Vapid._ Put in any thing! why, 'tis the last line, and the epilogue +must end with something striking, or it will be no trap for applause--no +trap for applause, after all this fine writing!--Put in any thing!--what +do you mean, sirrah? + +_Peter._ Methinks this is a strange epilogue to a comedy--[_Knock at the +door._]--Perhaps this is my master--[_Looks out._]--no, as I live, 'tis +Mr Floriville and Miss Courtney! she mustn't on any account be seen by +this gentleman. + +_Vapid._ Well, who is it?--"The tyrant totters"-- + +_Peter._ Sir, it's a friend of my master's who has brought a lady with +him--I'm sure you've too much gallantry to interrupt an amour; and, +therefore, you'll be kind enough to get out of the way directly. + +_Vapid._ Get out of the way! what the devil, in the middle of my +composition?--"Die all, die nobly"-- + +_Peter._ Nay, sir, only step for a moment into this closet, and you +shall be released,--now, pray, sir,--pray be prevailed on. + +_Vapid._ Well, let me see--in this closet! why, here's china, zounds! +would you put a live author in a china closet? + +_Peter._ What can I do, sir? there is no way out but that door--get in +here for an instant, and I'll show them into the library--now do, sir. + +_Vapid._ Well, be brief then,--"Die all! die nobly!"--oh! oh! oh! + [_Enters Closet, and FLORIVILLE and LOUISA enter._ + +_Flor._ Hey-day!--my old acquaintance, Peter! where's my brother? + +_Peter._ Sir, he has been out the whole evening. + +_Louisa._ In the same house with Neville!--oh, Heavens! + +_Flor._ Well, Miss Courtney, I hope now you are convinced of your +safety. + +_Louisa._ Yes, sir, but I would it were in any other place; lady +Waitfor't, ere this, is in pursuit of me, and if she discovers me here, +you know too well how much I have to dread. + [_Knock at the Door.--Exit PETER._ + +_Flor._ Don't be alarm'd, there's nothing shall molest you. + +_Louisa._ Oh, sir, you don't know the endless malice of lady +Waitfor't--she will triumph in my misery, and till my lord is convinced +of her duplicity, I see no hope of your brother's happiness, or my own. + + _Enter PETER._ + +_Peter._ Lady Waitfor't is below, inquiring for that lady, or my master. + +_Flor._ For my brother? + +_Peter._ Yes, sir, and my lord has sent to know if Mr Vapid, or her +ladyship, have been here;--he was in bed, but on receiving a letter, got +up, and will be here in an instant. + +_Louisa._ For Heaven's sake, Mr Floriville, let me retire,--I cannot +support the conflict. + +_Flor._ Promise to recall your spirits, and you shall. + +_Louisa._ What I can do I will. + +_Flor._ Then know no apprehension, for, on my life, you shall not be +disturbed. + + [_Leads her to the Door of the Library, and talks in + dumb show._ + +_Vapid._ [_From Closet._] Peter! Peter! can't you release me? + +_Peter._ No, sir, don't move, you'll ruin every thing. + +_Vapid._ Then give me that candle--I have pen and ink--I think I could +finish my epilogue. + +_Peter._ Here, sir. [_Giving Candle._ + +_Vapid._ That curst half line--"Die all"-- [_PETER shuts him in._ + +_Flor._ So, now, the storm begins, and if I don't have some sport with +the enemy--[_Sits at Table, and begins drinking._]--here she comes. + + _Enter LADY WAITFOR'T._ + +_Flor._ Chairs, Peter, chairs,--Sit down, ma'am--sit down--you honour me +exceedingly. + +_Lady._ Where is your brother, sir? I insist on seeing him. + + _Enter LORD SCRATCH._ + +_Lord._ There she is!--in a man's lodgings at midnight--here's +treatment! + +_Lady._ My lord, I came here in search of Louisa, who has been betrayed +from my power. + +_Lord._ Look ye, my lady--read that letter, that's all; read that +letter, and then say, if we sha'n't both cut a figure in the print +shops. + +_Lady._ [_Taking Letter._] Ha! Willoughby's hand! [_Reads._] _Lady +Waitfor't, (I have only time to tell you) is gone to Neville's lodgings, +to meet one she has long had a passion for--follow her, and be convinced +of her duplicity._ Oh, the villain! well, my lord, and pray who is the +man I come to meet? + +_Lord._ Why, who should it be but the stage ruffian? if there was a sofa +in the room, my life on't, he'd pop from behind it.--Zounds! that fellow +will lay straw before my door every nine months! + +_Lady._ This is fortunate.--[_Aside._]--Well, sir, if I discover Louisa, +I hope you'll be convinced I came here to redeem her, and not disgrace +myself. Tell me, sir, immediately, where she is concealed. + [_To FLORIVILLE._ + +_Flor._ Sit down, ma'am--sit down: drink, drink, then we'll talk over +the whole affair--there is no doing business without wine; come, here's +"The glory of gallantry"--I'm sure you'll both drink that. + +_Lady._ No trifling, sir; tell me where she is concealed;--nay, then +I'll examine the apartment myself--[_Goes to Door of Library._]--the +door lock'd! give me the key, sir. + +_Flor._ [_Drinking._] "The glory of gallantry, ma'am." + +_Lord._ Hear me, sir, if the lady's in that apartment, I shall be +convinced that you and your brother are the sole authors of all this +treachery; if she is there, by the honour of my ancestors, she shall be +Willoughby's wife to-morrow morning. + +_Flor._ [_Rising._] Shall she, my lord? Pray, were you ever in Italy? + +_Lord._ Why, coxcomb? + +_Flor._ Because, I'm afraid you've been bitten by a tarantula--you'll +excuse me, but the symptoms are wonderfully alarming--There is a blazing +fury in your eye--a wild emotion in your countenance, and a green spot-- + +_Lord._ Damn the green spot! open that door, and let me see immediately: +I'm a peer, and have a right to look at any thing. + +_Flor._ [_Standing before the Door._] No, sir; this door must not be +open'd. + +_Lord._ Then I'll forget my peerage, and draw my sword. + +_Flor._ [_To LADY WAITFOR'T, who is going to interfere._] Don't be +alarm'd, ma'am, I'll only indulge him for my own amusement--mere trout +fishing, ma'am-- + + _Enter LOUISA, from the Apartment._ + +_Louisa._ Hold! I charge you, hold!--let not my unhappy fate be the +source of more calamities. + +_Lord._ 'Tis she herself:--My lady did not come to meet the madman. + +_Flor._ By the lord, ma'am, you have ruined all. + +_Louisa._ I know, sir, the consequences of this discovery, and I abide +by them.--But what I have done, I can justify, and 'would to Heaven all +here could do the same! + +_Flor._ Indeed, I can't tell--I wish I was in Italy. + +_Lord._ Mark me, madam,--nay, tears are in vain--to-morrow shall make +you the wife of Willoughby; and he shall answer for your follies.--No +reply, sir, [_To FLORIVILLE, who is going to speak._] I wou'dn't hear +the chancellor. + +_Lady._ Now, who is to blame? Oh, virtue is ever sure to meet its +reward!--Come to meet a mad poet, indeed!--My lord, I forgive you only +on condition of your signing a contract to marry me to-morrow, and +Louisa to Willoughby, at the same time. + +_Lord._ I will, thou best of women!--draw it up immediately--and Neville +shall starve for his treachery. + [_LADY WAITFOR'T goes to the Table, and writes._ + +_Louisa._ [_Falling at the feet of LORD SCRATCH._] Hear me, sir, not for +myself, but for a wrong'd friend, I speak:--Mr Neville knows not of my +concealment; on my honour, he is innocent:--if that lady's wrongs must +be avenged, confine the punishment to me--I'll bear it, with patience +bear it. + +_Lord._ Let go!--let go, I say!--Lady Waitfor't, make haste with the +contract. + +_Lady._ It only waits the signature.--Now, my lord. + +_Flor._ Look ye, uncle--she's the cause of all this mischief, and if you +are not lost---- + +_Lord._ Out of my way!--O'd--noise and nonsense!--don't fancy yourselves +in the House of Commons! we're not speaking twenty at a time. Here! give +me the pen--I'll sign directly; and now-- + + [_As he is going to sign, VAPID breaks the China in the + Closet, and rushes out, with the Epilogue in his Hand._ + +_Vapid._ "Die all! die nobly! die like demi-gods!"--Huzza, huzza! 'tis +done! 'tis past! 'tis perfect. + +_Flor._ Huzza!--the poet at last; "Stop him who can!" + +_Lady._ Confusion!--tell me, sir, immediately, what do you mean by this +new insult? + +_Vapid._ "Die all! die nobly! die like demi-gods!"--oh, it's +glorious!--Ah, old Scratch, are you there?--Joy, joy! give me joy!--I've +done your business! the work's past!--the labour's o'er, my boy!--"think +of that, Master Brook--think of that!" + +_Lady._ My lord, I am vilely treated.--I desire you'll insist on an +explanation. + +_Flor._ He can't speak, madam. + [_All this time, my LORD is slowly walking away._ + +_Lady._ How! are you going to leave me, my lord? + +_Vapid._ [_Taking out his Common-place Book._] 'Faith this musn't be +lost!--here's something worth observing. [_Exit LORD SCRATCH._ + +_Lady._ Oh, I shall burst with rage!--Mr Vapid, I desire you'll explain +how you came in that closet.--Why don't you answer me, sir? + +_Vapid._ Your pardon, ma'am, I was taking a note of the affair--and yet +I'm afraid---- + +_Lady._ What are you afraid of, sir? + +_Vapid._ That it has been dramatized before;--it is certainly not a new +case. + +_Lady._ Insupportable!--But I take my leave of you all!--I abandon you +for ever!--I!--oh, I shall go wild! [_Exit in a rage._ + +_Flor._ Ay, ay, follow his lordship--virtue is ever sure to meet its +reward. Now, Mr Vapid, tell us how you came in that closet? + +_Vapid._ 'Faith, I can't.--I believe the servant hurried me there on +your approach. + +_Flor._ Then you didn't come to meet lady Waitfor't? + +_Vapid._ Meet lady Waitfor't!--no, I came to read my epilogue to +Neville; and a wonderful production it is--"The tyrant totters, and the +senate nods." [_Walking about._ + +_Louisa._ To what a strange fatality of circumstances has her character +been exposed!--but vice often finds its punishment for a crime it never +committed, when it escapes for thousands it daily practises. + +_Flor._ Well, Miss Courtney, I hope now your apprehensions are at an +end? + +_Louisa._ Yes, sir, I shall remain for the short time necessary to +prepare for my journey, and beg I may detain you no longer. I'm afraid I +have already been a great intruder. + +_Flor._ No, you have been the occasion of more happiness than ever I +experienced. But you won't leave Bath, till you've seen my brother? + +_Louisa._ Oh, I have been cruelly deceived, Mr Floriville! I have +injured your brother so much, that, though I wish, I almost dread to see +him. + +_Flor._ Then I'll go in search of him,--and if I don't reconcile +you----Come, Mr Vapid, will you walk? + +_Vapid._ With all my heart. + +_Flor._ [_Taking him by the hand._] By Heaven, you are an honest fellow. + +_Vapid._ Madam, good night!--if I can be of any service to you in the +dramatic, or any other way, you may command me. + +_Flor._ Ay, I'll answer for him,--he would die to serve you. + +_Vapid._ Die to serve her! ay, "Die all!--die nobly!--die like +demi-gods!" [_Exeunt._ + + + + +ACT THE FIFTH. + + +SCENE I. + + + _LADY WAITFOR'T'S Apartment._ + + _LADY WAITFOR'T discovered at her Toilette. LETTY + waiting._ + +_Lady._ Mr Vapid not come yet, Letty? + +_Letty._ No, ma'am,--but the servant, who found him at the tavern, said +he would be here immediately. + +_Lady._ I protest, I am almost weary of them all.--[_Noise without._] +See who's there. [_LETTY listens, and returns._ + +_Letty._ Mr Vapid at last:--now, pray your ladyship, insist on his +explaining every thing to my lord. + +_Lady._ Yes; but vilely as he has treated me, I must still be calm. + + _VAPID, putting his head in._ + +Walk in, sir, walk in. + +_Vapid._ No, ma'am, I'd rather stay here. + +_Lady._ I beg you'll be seated, Mr Vapid--I have something of +consequence to impart to you. + + _Enter VAPID, gently._ + +_Vapid._ I'd never have ventured but in hopes of seeing my dear +Marianne. + +_Lady._ Indeed I will not detain you a moment. + +_Vapid._ Very well, ma'am, if that's the case----[_Slowly seating +himself._] It's very alarming. [_Aside._ + +_Lady._ Letty, leave the room, and fasten the door. [_Exit LETTY._ + +_Vapid._ No, no!--don't do that, I beseech you! + +_Lady._ You're very much frightened, Mr Vapid;--I hope you don't suppose +I have any design against you? + +_Vapid._ I don't know, really, ma'am--such things are perfectly +dramatic. + +_Lady._ Well, but, to release you from your fears, I'll tell you why I +have given you this trouble--My business, Mr Vapid, was to converse with +you on the farcical affair that happened at Neville's. + +_Vapid._ Farcical! + +_Lady._ Yes, sir, the farcical affair that happened at Mr Neville's. + +_Vapid._ Farcical?--what, my epilogue, ma'am?--I hope you don't mean to +reflect on that? + +_Lady._ No, sir, far from it--I have no doubt but it is a very elegant +composition. + +_Vapid._ Doubt!--here it is, read it!--the very first production of the +age! A regular climax of poetic beauty!--the last line the _ne plus +ultra_ of genius. + +_Lady._ But, to be serious, Mr Vapid---- + +_Vapid._ Why, I am serious:--and I'll tell you, lady Waitfor't, 'tis the +last line of an epilogue, and the last scene of a comedy, that always +distracts me--'tis the reconciliation of lovers--there's the +difficulty!--You find it so in real life, I dare say? + +_Lady._ Yes.--But Mr Vapid, this affair concerns me excessively, and I +wish to know what is to be done. + +_Vapid._ I'll tell you,--write a play,--and, bad as it may possibly be, +say it's a translation from the French, and interweave a few compliments +on the English, and, my life on't, it does wonders.--Do it, and say you +had the thought from me. + +_Lady._ Sir, do you mean to deride me? + +_Vapid._ No.--But only be cautious in your style--women are in general +apt to indulge that pruriency and warm luxuriancy of fancy they +possess,--but do be careful--be decent--if you are not, I have done with +you. + +_Lady._ Sir, I desire you'll be more respectful.--I don't understand it +at all. [_Rising._ + + _Enter MARIANNE._ + +_Vapid._ Then here comes one that will explain every thing. + + "There's in her all that we believe of Heaven; + Amazing brightness, purity, and truth, + Eternal joy, and everlasting love!" + +My dear sweet little partner, I rejoice to see you! + +_Mari._ And, my dear sweet Mr Poet, I rejoice to see you! + +_Lady._ Provoking!--Have I not told you a thousand times, never to break +in upon me when I am alone? + +_Mari._ Alone, my lady! do you call Mr Vapid nobody, then? + +_Lady._ Suppose I should,--what is that to you? + +_Mari._ Then I have a wrong notion of your nobodies.--I always thought +them harmless, unmeaning things; but Mr Vapid's not so very harmless +either--are you, Mr Vapid? + +_Vapid._ Indeed, ma'am, I am not. + +_Mari._ There now,--I told you so.--Upon my word, you rely too much on +your time of life,--you do indeed. You think, because you're a little +the worse for wear, you may trust yourself any where,--but you're +mistaken--you're not near so bad as you imagine--nay, I don't flatter, +do I, Mr Vapid? + +_Vapid._ Indeed, ma'am, you do not. + +_Lady._ Look ye, miss,--your insolence is not to be borne--you have been +the chief cause of all my perplexities. + +_Mari._ Nay, aunt, don't say that. + +_Lady._ No matter,--your behaviour is shameless, and it is high time I +exerted the authority of a relation--you are a disgrace to me--to +yourself, and your friends--therefore, I am determined to put into +execution a scheme I have long thought of. + +_Mari._ What is it? something pleasant I hope. + +_Lady._ No, you shall retire to a convent, till you take possession of +your fortune. + +_Mari._ A convent! Oh lord! I can't make up my mind to it, now don't, +pray don't think of it--I declare it's quite shocking. + +_Lady._ It is a far better place than you deserve; my resolution is +fixed, and we shall see whether a life of solitude and austerity will +not awaken some sense of shame in you. + +_Mari._ Indeed, I can't bear the thoughts of it.--Oh do speak to her, Mr +Vapid--tell her about the nasty monks, now do,--a convent! mercy! what a +check to the passions! Oh! I can't bear it. [_Weeping._ + +_Vapid._ Gad, here's a sudden touch of tragedy--pray, Lady Waitfor't, +reflect--you can't send a lady to a convent when the theatres are open. + +_Mari._ It will be the death of me! pray, my dear aunt---- + +_Lady._ Not a word--I am determined--to-morrow you shall leave this +country, and then I have done with you for ever. + +_Mari._ Oh! my poor heart! Oh, oh! + +_Vapid._ See! she'll faint! + +_Mari._ Oh! oh! oh! [_MARIANNE faints in LADY WAITFOR'T'S Arms._ + +_Lady._ Oh! I have gone too far, Mr Vapid! + +_Vapid._ I fly, I'll call the servants. Have you got any drops? + +_Lady._ I have some drops in this closet may recover her--hold her a +moment, and for heaven's sake take care of her. [_Exit._ + + [_MARIANNE lays in VAPID'S Arms._ + +_Vapid._ Here's a situation!--Poor girl!--how I pity her! I really loved +her. + +_Mari._ Did you really love me, Mr Vapid? + +_Vapid._ Hey-day! recovered!--here's incident! + +_Mari._ But did you really love me, Mr Vapid? + +_Vapid._ Yes I did,--here's stage effect! + +_Mari._ And would you have really run away with me, Mr Vapid? + +_Vapid._ Yes, I really would. + +_Mari._ Then come along this moment. + +_Vapid._ Hush!--here's the old lady! keep dying, as before, and we'll +effect the business--more equivoque! + + _Enter LADY WAITFOR'T._ + +_Lady._ Well, Mr Vapid, how does she do? lord! she's in strong +convulsions. + +_Vapid._ Yes, ma'am, she's dying; where are the drops? + +_Lady._ Here, sir. + +_Vapid._ There are very few--are there any more of the same kind? + +_Lady._ Yes, plenty. + +_Vapid._ Fetch them,--'tis the only hope--if you have any hartshorn too, +bring a little of that. + +_Lady._ I'm quite shocked! [_Exit._ + +_Mari._ Well, Mr Vapid, now let's run away--come--why what are you +thinking of? + +_Vapid._ My last act, and I fear-- + +_Mari._ What do you fear? + +_Vapid._ That it can't be managed--let me see--we certainly run away, +and she returns--'faith, I must see her return. + +_Mari._ No, no, pray let us begone, think of this another time. + +_Vapid._ So I will--it will do for the fourth, though not for the fifth +act,--therefore, my dear little girl, come away, and we'll live and die +together. + +_Mari._ Die together! + +_Vapid._ Ay, "Die all! die nobly! die like demi-gods!" [_Exeunt._ + + _Enter LADY WAITFOR'T._ + +_Lady._ Here, Mr Vapid--here are the drops!--What, gone!--ruined by a +writer of epilogues!--Oh! I shall burst with disappointment! [_Exit._ + + +SCENE II. + + + _Another Apartment in NEVILLE'S House--In the back + Scene, Glass Doors, with Curtains._ + + _Enter LOUISA COURTNEY._ + +_Louisa._ Still in the same house, yet still afraid to meet him! Oh, +Neville! my superior in every thing; how can I hope for your +forgiveness? while you revealed an affection it had done you credit to +deny, I concealed a passion I might have been proud to confess. + + _Enter VAPID and MARIANNE._ + +_Mari._ Oh! Miss Courtney! my sweet Miss Courtney! Mr Vapid, here, has +run away with me, and I am so frightened for fear of Lady Waitfor't. + +_Louisa._ Yes, she may well alarm you,--she has destroyed my peace for +ever! but have you seen Mr Neville? yet, why do I ask! + +_Vapid._ Seen Mr Neville!--What, doesn't he yet know you are in his +lodgings? + +_Louisa._ No, and I hope never will--the moment his brother returns, I +shall set out for my uncle's, and perhaps never see him more. + +_Vapid._ And why not see him, ma'am? + +_Louisa._ Because I cannot bear the sight of one I have so injured. + +_Vapid._ This'll do--mutual equivoque! equal misunderstanding! my own +case exactly! + +_Mari._ Your own case! Lord! you base man, have you got a young lady in +your lodgings? + +_Vapid._ Ridiculous! don't talk about young ladies at such an awful--the +very situation in my comedy! the last scene to a syllable!--here's an +opportunity of improving the denouement! + + _Enter PETER._ + +_Peter._ Ma'am, my master is returned--the occasion of his delay has +been a long interview with Mr Willoughby,--he doesn't know you are here. + +_Louisa._ Marianne, excuse me--you'll be safe from Lady Waitfor't +here--indeed I'm very ill. + +_Mari._ Nay--where are you going? + +_Louisa._ Alas! any where to avoid him--farewell! and may you enjoy that +happiness I have for ever lost! [_Exit._ + +_Mari._ Poor dear girl! I mustn't leave her thus--Mr Vapid, we won't run +away till something is done for her. + +_Vapid._ Go,--there's a good girl--follow her, and comfort her. + +_Mari._ I will--Lord! if they must be happy in being friends again, what +must I be who make them so! [_Exit._ + +_Vapid._ The picture before me! all from nature,--I must heighten his +distress, for contrast is every thing--Peter, not a word for your life. + + _Enter NEVILLE._ + +_Nev._ Vapid, I am glad to see you--any letter from my brother? + [_To PETER._ + +_Peter._ None, sir. + +_Nev._ Nor message? + +_Peter._ No, sir. + +_Nev._ Then I need doubt no longer--'tis evident he avoids me--cruel, +ungenerous Floriville!-- [_Seats himself._ + +_Vapid._ [_Leaning over his Chair._] Miss Courtney will never see you +again. + +_Nev._ I know it--too well I know it--that, and that alone, makes me +determined to leave this country for ever. + +_Vapid._ You are unhappy then? + +_Nev._ Completely so. + +_Vapid._ Then stop.--[_Sits by him._] She was an angel, Harry. + +_Nev._ Ay, a divinity! + +_Vapid._ And then to lose her! + +_Nev._ [_Rising._] 'Sdeath!--don't torment me!--my griefs are already +beyond bearing. + +_Vapid._ It will do--he's as unhappy as I could wish. + +_Peter._ I can hold no longer--sir! + +_Vapid._ Hush!--you d--d dog, you'll ruin the catastrophe. + +_Peter._ I don't care--I'll tell him every thing--sir!--Mr Neville! + +_Vapid._ You villain!--Do you ever go to a play?--did you ever sit in +the gallery? + +_Peter._ Yes, sir, sometimes. + +_Vapid._ Then know this is all for your good----you'll applaud it some +day or other, you dog--curse it, won't he have happiness enough bye and +bye?---What--you are going abroad, Neville? + +_Nev._ Yes, for ever.--Farewell, Vapid. + +_Vapid._ Farewell, Neville--good night----Now for the effect!--Miss +Courtney is in the next room. + +_Nev._ What! + +_Vapid._ Miss Courtney is in the next room. + +_Nev._ Louisa! is it possible? + +_Vapid._ There's light and shade!--Yes, your brother brought her here, +and she expects him to return every moment. + +_Nev._ My brother! then 'tis he means to marry her--nay, perhaps they +are already married--Heavens! I shall go wild! + +_Vapid._ Don't, don't go wild--that will ruin the denouement. + +_Nev._ No matter--I am resolved--I'll bid her farewell for ever--Vapid, +'tis the last favour I shall ask of you--give her this, [_A Letter._] +and tell her, since I have resented Willoughby's attack on her honour, I +think I may be allowed to vindicate my own; tell her, great as have been +my faults, my truth has still been greater, and wherever I wander-- + +_Vapid._ Here's a flourish, now!--why you misunderstand--she is not +married, nor going to be married. + +_Nev._ Come, this is no time for raillery. + +_Vapid._ Raillery!--why, I'm serious--serious as the fifth act--she is +now weeping on your account. + +_Nev._ Pr'ythee leave fooling, it will produce no effect, believe me. + +_Vapid._ Won't it? it will produce a very great effect though, believe +me. Zounds! go to her--preserve the unity of action,--marry her +directly, and if the catastrophe does not conclude with spirit, damn my +comedy--damn my comedy--that's all, damn my comedy. + +_Nev._ 'Would to Heaven you were in earnest! + +_Vapid._ Earnest! why there it is now! the women, dear creatures, are +always ready enough to produce effect--but the men are so curst +undramatic.--Go to her, I tell you, go to her. + [_Exit NEVILLE.--VAPID stands aside._ + + _Enter LORD SCRATCH and FLORIVILLE._ + +_Lord._ That curst dramatic maniac,--if I see him again---- + +_Flor._ My dear uncle, consent to Harry's marriage, and depend on it he +shall trouble you no more. + +_Lord._ I tell you again, sir, I will not. + +_Flor._ Will you give any hopes of future consent? + +_Lord._ By the word of a peer, I will not. + + [_VAPID, coming forward, touching LORD SCRATCH on the + Shoulder, and writing in common-place book._ + +_Vapid._ Master Brook, let me persuade you. + +_Lord._ Flames and firebrands, the fiend again! + +_Vapid._ Give consent, and I'll give Neville a fortune--he shall have +the entire profit of the different plays in which I intend to have the +honour of introducing yourself and the old Lady Hurlothrumbo. + +_Lord._ Oh, that I was not a peer! if I was any thing else--but, thank +Heaven, Louisa is more averse to the match than myself. + +_Vapid._ Is she? + +_Lord._ Yes, she knows his falsehood, and despises him. + +_Vapid._ What, you are confident of it? + +_Lord._ Out of my way, sir,--I'll not answer you,--I'll go take her to +town directly.--Out of my way, sir. + +_Vapid._ Stop--you're wrong, Master Brook--she's in that room. + +_Lord._ Where?--behind me? + +_Vapid._ Yes--there--there! [_Pointing._] Now for it!--what an effect! + + [_LORD S. opens the Glass Doors, and discovers NEVILLE + kneeling to LOUISA. MARIANNE with them._ + +_Vapid._ There, Peter! there's catastrophe!--Shakspeare's invention +nothing!--Applaud it, you dog--clap, clap, Peter, clap! + +_Lord._ What are you at, you impudent rascal?--get out of the room. + [_Exit PETER._ + +_Vapid._ I should set this down--I may forget. + +_Mari._ Lord! he has a very bad memory,--I hope he won't forget our +marriage. + +_Nev._ Oh! Louisa, what am I to think? + +_Louisa._ That I have wronged thee, Neville! [_Embracing._ + +_Flor._ My dear Harry, let this be my apology for not having seen you +before. [_Giving him a Paper._] Miss Courtney, ten thousand joys;--could +I have found my brother, you should have seen him sooner. + +_Nev._ Why, here is a deed of gift of half your estate! + +_Flor._ I know it, but say nothing. When you gave me money, five years +ago, did I say any thing?--no, I forgot it as soon as it was over; and +should never have recollected, at this moment, but for my lord's +inhumanity.--Uncle, I thank you,--you have made me the happiest man +alive. + +_Lord._ Don't perplex me;--what a compound of folly and generosity! + +_Mari._ Uncle-in-law, what are your feelings on this occasion?--as my +aunt says. + +_Lord._ Feelings!--I never knew a peer had any. + +_Mari._ Didn't you? + +_Lord._ No; but now I find the contrary: I begin to think I've a heart +like other men. It's better to atone for an error, than persist in +one--therefore give me that deed, Neville----there, sir, [_Giving it to +FLORIVILLE._] do you think nobody has estates but yourself?--Louisa and +her fortune are your own, Neville; and after my death, you shall have +all mine:--and now there's a cursed burden off my mind. + +_Mari._ Now, you're a dear creature! and I won't marry,--that's what I +won't, without consulting you. + +_Lord._ You marry! why, who should you marry?--And pray, how came you +here? + +_Mari._ A gentleman run away with me;--he is now in the room. + +_Lord._ In the room! what, Floriville? + +_Mari._ No, behind you. [_Pointing to VAPID, who is writing at a Table._ + +_Lord._ Ghosts and spectres! my evil genius! + +_Mari._ Come, my dear, haven't you almost finished? [_VAPID rises._ + +_Vapid._ Yes, the denouement is complete, and now, Mrs Vapid, I resign +myself to love and you. + +_Mari._ Come, give consent, my lord,--my husband will get money, though +I have none. + +_Lord._ None!--I dare say he can tell you, you will have twelve thousand +pounds in less than a year. + +_Vapid._ That's a new incident! + +_Mari._ Shall I? then 'faith, Mr Vapid, we'll build a theatre of our +own! you shall write plays, and I'll act them. + + _Enter ENNUI._ + +_Ennui._ I've an idea--I give you joy, Neville.--I mean to kill time, by +living single; and, therefore, I hope, the lady and the borough may be +yours. + +_Mari._ Mr Ennui, I hope you'll forgive me, and Sir Harry Hustle, the +fatigue we occasioned you? + +_Ennui._ Yaw, aw--don't mention it.--The very recollection makes me +faint.--In fact--my lord, I just met one of Lady Waitfor't's servants, +who tells me she has left Bath in a rage. + +_Flor._ I am afraid she has escaped too easily. + +_Lord._ Oh, never think of her! I can answer for her punishment being +adequate to her crimes--Willoughby has told me all her schemes,--and if +ever I hear her name again, may I lose my peerage, and dress like a +gentleman. + +_Ennui._ My lord--I've an idea-- + +_Vapid._ Sir, I beg your pardon; but really, if you have an idea, I will +trouble you to spare it me for my comedy. + +_Ennui._ In fact--I don't comprehend. I have read your "die-all" +epilogue, and-- + +_Vapid._ Oh, then I don't wonder at your having ideas! + +_Lord._ Oh, poor fellow! he's always talking about what he never +has.--Neville, my boy, may you be as happy as I am. + +_Flor._ Ay, I'll answer for his happiness by my own.--Miss Courtney, +notwithstanding my brother, I will "still live in your eye,--die in your +lap--and be buried in your heart:" and, moreover, I will stay with you +both in England. + +_Louisa._ Yes, Floriville, if you would behold pure, unsullied love, +never travel out of this country. Depend on't, + + No foreign climes such high examples prove, + Of wedded pleasure, or connubial love. + Long in this land have joys domestic grown, + Nursed in the cottage--cherish'd on the throne. + + +THE END. + + + + +ORIGINAL OCTAVO EDITIONS OF PLAYS, &c. +PRINTED FOR +LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN. + + +BY GEORGE COLMAN, THE YOUNGER. + +The Mountaineers, 2s 6d +Inkle and Yarico, 2s 6d +Poor Gentleman, 2s 6d +Who wants a Guinea? 2s 6d +John Bull, a Comedy, 2s 6d +Ways and Means, 2s + + +BY RICHARD CUMBERLAND, ESQ. + +The Jew, a Comedy, 2s 6d +West Indian, 2s 6d. +Wheel of Fortune, 2s 6d +First Love, a Comedy, 2s 6d +False Impressions, 2s 6d +Mysterious Husband, 2s 6d + + +BY THOMAS DIBDIN, ESQ. + +School for Prejudice, 2s 6d +Il Bondocani; or, the Caliph Robber, 1s 6d +St David's Day, 1s 6d +The Birth Day, a Comedy, from Kotzebue, 2s +The Jew and the Doctor, a Farce, 1s 6d +The Cabinet, 2s 6d +The English Fleet, in 1342; an Historical Comic Opera, 2s 6d +The Will for the Deed, a Comedy, 2s +Family Quarrels, 2s 6d + + +BY MRS INCHBALD. + +Lovers' Vows, a Play, 2s 6d +Every one has his Fault, a Comedy, 2s 6d +To Marry, or not to Marry, a Comedy, 2s 6d +Wives as they Were, 2s 6d +Such Things are, 2s 6d +Child of Nature, 2s +Wedding Day, a Comedy, in two Acts, 1s 6d + + +REVISED BY J. P. KEMBLE, ESQ. + +Shakspeare's Othello, Moor of Venice, now first printed as it is acted + at the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, 8vo. 2s 6d +Shakspeare's King John, do. 2s +Shakspeare's Henry VIII. do. 2s + + +BY THOMAS MORTON, ESQ. + +Speed the Plough, 2s 6d +Zorinski, a Play, 2s 6d +The Way to get Married, 2s 6d +A Cure for the Heart Ache, a Comedy, 2s 6d +Secrets worth Knowing, a Comedy, 2s 6d +The School of Reform; or How to Rule a Husband, a Comedy, 2s 6d + + +BY JOHN O'KEEFFE, ESQ. + +Lie of the Day, a Comedy, 2s +Highland Reel, 1s 6d +The Farmer, an Opera, 1s 6d +Modern Antiques, a Farce, 1s 6d +Love in a Camp; or, Patrick in Prussia, 1s 6d +The Positive Man, 1s 6d +The Poor Soldier, 1s 6d +Wild Oats, a Comedy, 2s 6d +The Castle of Andalusia, an Opera, 2s 6d +Sprigs of Laurel, 1s 6d +Prisoner at Large, 1s 6d + + +BY FREDERICK REYNOLDS, ESQ. + +The Delinquent, 2s 6d +The Will, a Comedy, 2s 6d +Folly as it flies, 2s 6d +Life, a Comedy, 2s 6d +Management, a Comedy, 2s 6d +Laugh when you can, 2s 6d +The Dramatist, 2s 6d +Notoriety, a Comedy, 2s 6d +How to grow Rich, 2s 6d +The Rage, a Comedy, 2s 6d +Speculation, a Comedy, 2s 6d +The Blind Bargain, 2s 6d +Fortune's Fool, 2s 6d +Werter, a Tragedy, 2s + + * * * * * + +The Honey Moon, a Comedy, by John Tobin, 2s 6d +The Duenna, a Comic Opera, by Mr Sheridan, 2s 6d +The Heiress, a Comedy, by General Burgoyne, 2s 6d +The Road to Ruin, a Comedy, by Mr Holcroft, 2s 6d +Deserted Daughter, a Comedy, by ditto, 2s 6d +The Belle's Stratagem, a Comedy, by Mrs Cowley, 2s 6d +Which is the Man? a Comedy, by do. 2s 6d +England Preserved, a Tragedy, by Mr Watson, 2s 6d +The Bank Note, a Comedy, by Mr Macready, 2s 6d +The Votary of Wealth, a Comedy, by Mr Holman, 2s 6d +Ramah Droog; or, Wine does Wonders, by J. Cobb, Esq. 2s 6d +Mary, Queen of Scots, a Tragedy, by Hon. Mr St John, 2s 6d +The Stranger, a Play, as performed at Drury Lane, 2s 6d +The Maid of Bristol, a Play, by Mr Boaden, 2s +Raising the Wind, a Farce, by Mr Kenney, 1s 6d +Too many Cooks, by ditto, 1s 6d +Matrimony, a Petit Opera, by ditto, 1s 6d +The Point of Honour, a Play, by Mr C. Kemble, 2s +What is She? a Comedy, 2s 6d +Wife in the Right, a Comedy, by Mrs Griffith, 2s 6d +Julia; or, the Italian Lover, a Tragedy, by Mr Jephson, 2s 6d +Clementina, a Tragedy, by Kelly, 2s 6d +Doctor and Apothecary, a Farce, 1s 6d +Smugglers, a Farce, 1s 6d +First Floor, a Farce, 1s 6d +Tit for Tat, a Farce, 1s 6d +Sulian, a Farce, 1s 6d +Match for a Widow, an Opera, 1s 6d +Turnpike Gate, a Farce, by Knight, 1s 6d +Soldier's Return, a Farce, 1s 6d +Hartford Bridge, a Farce, by Mr Pearce, 1s 6d +The Midnight Wanderers, an Opera, by ditto, 1s 6d +Netley Abbey, an Opera, by ditto, 1s 6d +Arrived at Portsmouth, a Farce, by ditto, ls 6d +The Mysteries of the Castle, by Mr Andrews, 2s 6d +The Irishman in London, a Farce, by Mr Macready, 1s 6d +Lock and Key, a Farce, by Mr Hoare, 1s 6d +Marian, an Opera, by Mrs Brookes, 1s 6d + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber's note: + +The following typographical errors present in the original edition +have been corrected. + +In Act I, Scene I, a missing question mark was added after "Has he not a +share of vanity in his composition". + +In Act IV, Scene I, "_Willoughby._" was added before the lines beginning +"'Tis past the hour" and "Ha! gone,--I am sorry for it". + +In Act IV, Scene II, "_Peter._" was added before the line beginning +"Vapid presents his compliments"; the line "Here's something wanting, +sir.", which was originally formatted as a stage direction, has been +reformatted as dialogue; a missing quotation mark was inserted before +the words "Die all" in the line "in the middle of my composition?--Die +all, die nobly"; and missing brackets were added before the stage +directions beginning "As he is going to sign" and the final "Exeunt". + +In Act V, Scene II, "_Vapid._" was added before the line beginning +"Here's a situation!" + +In the advertisements, a missing comma was added after "West Indian". + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DRAMATIST; OR STOP HIM WHO +CAN!*** + + +******* This file should be named 31374-8.txt or 31374-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/1/3/7/31374 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Dramatist; or Stop Him Who Can!, by Frederick Reynolds</title> + <style type="text/css"> + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + h2.newact {margin-top: 4em;} + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Dramatist; or Stop Him Who Can!</p> +<p> A Comedy, in Five Acts</p> +<p>Author: Frederick Reynolds</p> +<p>Release Date: February 23, 2010 [eBook #31374]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DRAMATIST; OR STOP HIM WHO CAN!***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Steven desJardins<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 492px;"> +<img src="images/dramatist.jpg" width="492" height="750" alt="frontispiece" title="DRAMATIST/VAPID—PROLOGUE OR EPILOGUE! I'M YOUR MAN:—I'LL WRITE YOU BOTH./ACT II. SCENE II/PAINTED BY SINGLETON. PUBLISHD BY LONGMAN & CO. ENGRAVD BY ENGLEHEART." /> +</div> + +<h1><span class="subhead2">THE</span><br /> +DRAMATIST;<br /> +<span class="subhead2">OR,</span><br /> +<span class="subhead">STOP HIM WHO CAN!</span></h1> + +<p class="center"><span class="bigheader">A COMEDY,</span><br /> +IN FIVE ACTS;<br /> +<span class="bigheader"><span class="smcap">By</span> FREDERICK REYNOLDS.</span></p> + +<p class="center">AS PERFORMED AT THE<br /> +<span class="bigheader">THEATRE ROYAL, COVENT GARDEN.</span></p> + +<p class="center">PRINTED UNDER THE AUTHORITY OF THE MANAGERS +FROM THE PROMPT BOOK.</p> + +<p class="center">WITH REMARKS<br /> +<span class="bigheader">BY MRS INCHBALD.</span></p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p class="center">LONDON:<br /> +<span class="subhead">PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN,<br /> +PATERNOSTER ROW.</span></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Edinburgh</span>:<br /> +Printed by James Ballantyne and Co.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="REMARKS" id="REMARKS"></a>REMARKS.</h2> + + +<p>Plays of former times were written to be read, not seen. Dramatic +authors succeeded in their aim; their works were placed in libraries, +and the theatres were deserted.—Now, plays are written to be seen, not +read—and present authors gain their views; for they and the managers +are enriched, and the theatres crowded.</p> + +<p>To be both seen and read at the present day, is a degree of honour, +which, perhaps, not one comic dramatist can wholly boast, except +Shakspeare. Exclusive of his, scarcely any of the very best comedies of +the best of former bards will now attract an audience: yet the genius of +ancient writers was assisted by various tales, for plots, of which they +have deprived the moderns; they had, besides, the privilege to write +without either political or moral restraint. Uncurbed by law or +delicacy, they wrote at random; and at random wrote some pages worthy +posterity—but along with these, they produced others, which disgrace +the age that reprints and circulates them.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>It might be deemed suspicious to insinuate, that those persons, perhaps, +who so vehemently exclaim against modern dramas, give up with reluctance +the old prerogative of listening to wit and repartee, which would make +the refined hearer of the present day blush, and the moral auditor +shudder.</p> + +<p>To those who can wisely bear with the faults of their own time, nor +think all that is good is gone by, the representation of the present +comedy will give high entertainment; particularly in those scenes in +which Vapid is concerned.—Reynolds could hardly mistake drawing a +faithful portrait of this character, for it is said—he sat for himself.</p> + +<p>Yet those, who expect to be highly delighted with "The Dramatist," must +bring with them to the theatre a proper acquaintance with the stage, and +also of its power over certain of its votaries.</p> + +<p>If attraction, if bursts of applause, and still less equivocal +approbation, bursts of laughter, constitute perfect success to a comic +writer, Mr Reynolds, in this, as well as in other of his comedies, has +been preeminently successful.</p> + +<p>In this comedy, however, and, perhaps, in one or two more he has +written, there is an obstacle to his independent merit as an author—an +obstacle which too many dramatic writers willingly place in their path +to lasting reputation. He has written for one particular actor to +support his play—Lewis—more worthy to be thus considered than almost +any other performer: but here his very skill gives the alarm—for Lewis +possesses such unaffected spirit on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> stage, a kind of vivid fire, +which tempers burlesque with nature, or nature with burlesque, so +happily, that it cannot be hoped any other man will easily support those +characters written purposely for him.</p> + +<p>Be that as it may—when Reynolds can no more enliven a theatre by his +Dramatist, this comedy will grow dull in excellent company—for +Congreve's "Way of the World" was hissed, it is said, from a London +stage, the last time it was acted, for insipidity.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2><a name="DRAMATIS_PERSONAE" id="DRAMATIS_PERSONAE"></a>DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.</h2> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<table border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="Dramatis Personae"> +<tr> +<td class="character">Lord Scratch</td> +<td class="actor">Mr Quick.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="character">Harry Neville</td> +<td class="actor">Mr Holman.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="character">Floriville</td> +<td class="actor">Mr Blanchard.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="character">Willoughby</td> +<td class="actor">Mr Macready.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="character">Ennui</td> +<td class="actor">Mr Munden.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="character">Peter</td> +<td class="actor">Mr Thompson.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="character">Vapid</td> +<td class="actor">Mr Lewis.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="character">Servant</td> +<td class="actor">Mr Evatt.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="character" style="padding-top: 0.75em;">Louisa Courtney</td> +<td class="actor" style="padding-top: 0.75em;">Miss Brunton.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="character">Lady Waitfor't</td> +<td class="actor">Mrs Webb.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="character">Letty</td> +<td class="actor">Miss Brangin.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="character">Marianne</td> +<td class="actor">Mrs Wells.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="dpscene">SCENE,—Bath.</td> +</tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> + +<h1><span class="subhead2">THE</span><br /> +DRAMATIST.</h1> + +<h2><a name="ACT_THE_FIRST" id="ACT_THE_FIRST"></a>ACT THE FIRST.</h2> + + +<p class="scene">SCENE I.</p> + + +<p class="stagedir"><i>The Grove.—<span class="smcap">Lady Waitfor't's</span> House.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Marianne</span>, and <span class="smcap">Letty</span>, from the House.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> But I tell you I will come out—I didn't come to Bath to be +confined, nor I won't—I hate all their company, but sweet Miss +Courtney's.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Letty.</i> I declare, Miss Marianne, you grow worse and worse every day, +your country manners will be the ruin of you.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Don't you talk about that, Letty—It was a shame to bring me up +in the country—if I had been properly taken care of, I might have done +great things—I might have married the poet I danced with at the +ball—But it's all over now.—I shall never get a husband, and, what's +worse, my aunt did it on purpose.—She ruined me, Letty, that nobody +else might.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span><i>Letty.</i> How you talk!—I hope Miss Courtney hasn't taught you all this?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> No,—she's a dear creature,—she has taught me many things; but +nothing improper, I'm sure.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Letty.</i> Pray, has she taught you why she never plays any tune but the +one we heard just now?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Yes—and if you'll keep it a secret, I'll tell you, Letty; Mr +Harry Neville taught it her last summer,—and now she is always playing +it, because it puts her in mind of the dear man;—when it is ended, +don't you observe how she sighs from the bottom of her dear little +heart?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Letty.</i> Why, I thought they had quarrelled?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> So they have—she won't see him, and I believe my aunt, Lady +Waitfor't, has been the occasion of it;—poor Mr Neville!—I wish I +could assist him, for indeed, Letty, I always pity any body that is +crossed in love—it may be one's own case one day or other, you know.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Letty.</i> True—and for the same reason, I suppose, you rejoice when it +is successful.—I'm sure now the intended marriage of Lady Waitfor't and +Lord Scratch gives you great pleasure.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> What! the country gentleman who has lately come to his title? +No, if you'll believe me, I don't like him at all,—he's a sour old +fellow—is always abusing our sex, and thinks there is only one good +woman under heaven:—now, I'm sure that's a mistake, for I know I'm a +good woman, and I think, Letty, you are another.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Letty.</i> Yes,—I hope so, though I confess I think your aunt is better +than either of us.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> More shame for you—she is a woman of sentiment, and hums you +over with her flourishes about purity, and feelings.—Feelings!—'faith, +she ought to be ashamed of herself—no other woman would talk in that +manner.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Letty.</i> You mistake her—she is a woman of virtue,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> and can't help +feeling for the vices and misfortunes of others.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Then why can't she do as I have done, Letty? keep her feelings +to herself—If I had given way to them half so much as she has—Oh Lord! +I don't know what might have been the consequence.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Letty.</i> For shame! You never hear Lady Waitfor't speak ill of any body.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> No,—How should she, when she talks of nobody but herself?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Letty.</i> Well, your opinion is of little weight; my Lord sees her merit, +and is come to Bath on purpose to marry her—he thinks her a prodigy of +goodness.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Then, pray let him have her—every fool knows so, to be sure he +does, Letty, that a prodigy of goodness is a very rare thing;—but when +he finds her out!—'faith, it will be a rare joke, when he finds her +out.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Letty.</i> Shameful, Miss Marianne! do speak a little intelligibly, and +remember your aunt's favourite observation.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> What is it?—I have forgot.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Letty.</i> That good sentiments are always plain.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Yes,—so are good women,—bid her remember that, Letty.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Letty.</i> Hush:—say no more—here she comes, and Mr Willoughby with her.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Ay—that man is always with her of late—but come, Letty, let's +get out of their way—let's take a walk, and look at the beaux.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Letty.</i> The beaux! ah, I see you long to become a woman of fashion.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Mari.</i> No—though I hate the country, I never will become a woman of +fashion—I know too well what it is to do many things one don't like, +and 'faith, while there is such real pleasure in following my own +incli<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>nations, I see no reason why, merely out of fashion, I should be +obliged to copy other people's.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit, with <span class="smcap">Letty</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Lady Waitfor't</span> and <span class="smcap">Willoughby</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> [<i>To <span class="smcap">Servant</span>.</i>] When my lord returns, tell him I'm gone to Lady +Walton's, and shall be back immediately.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Will.</i> Then your ladyship is certain Harry Neville is arrived.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Yes—the ungrateful man arrived last night, and, as I yet mean +to consult his happiness, I have written to him to come to me this +evening—but I will ever oppose his union with my lord's ward, Louisa +Courtney, because I think it will be the ruin of them both; and you +know, Willoughby, one cannot forget one's feelings on those occasions.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Will.</i> Certainly—Ennui, the time-killer, whose only business in life +is to murder the hour, is also just arrived; and my lord is resolved on +his marrying Louisa instantly.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> True—and only because he'll make a quiet member for his brother +in the west. But, for various reasons, I am determined she shall be +yours—yet it must be done artfully—my circumstances are deranged, and +an alliance with my lord Scratch is the only hope of relief.—Such are +the fruits of virtue, Willoughby.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Will.</i> Well—but her fortune is entirely dependent on my Lord's +consent, and how is that to be obtained? You know I am no favourite, and +Ennui is a great one.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> I know it, and therefore we must incense him against Ennui—let +me see——can't we contrive some mode,—some little ingenious story—he +is a singular character, you know, and has violent prejudices.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span><i>Will.</i> True—and of all his prejudices, none is so violent, or +entertaining, as that against authors and actors.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Yes,—the stage is his aversion, and some way or other——I have +it—it's an odd thought, but may do much—suppose we tell him Ennui has +written a play.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Will.</i> The luckiest thought in the world! it will make him hate him +directly.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Well, leave it to me—I'll explain the matter to him +myself,—and my life on't it proves successful. You see, Willoughby, my +only system is to promote happiness.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Will.</i> It is indeed, Lady Waitfor't—but if this fails, may I still +hope for your interest with Miss Courtney?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Yes,—I'm determined she shall be yours, and neither Neville's +nor Ennui's.—But come, it's late—here he is.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Will.</i> We'll get rid of him.</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Ennui</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Mr Ennui, your most obedient—we are going to the Parade—have +you seen your cousin Neville?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> I've an idea—I've just left him.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Lady.</i> I suppose we shall see you at Lady Walton's this evening?—till +then, adieu.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exeunt <span class="smcap">Lady Waitfor't</span> and <span class="smcap">Willoughby</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> I've an idea, I don't like this Lady Waitfor't—she wishes to +trick me out of my match with Miss Courtney, and if I could trick her in +return—[<i>Takes out his Watch.</i>] How goes the enemy?—only one +o'clock!—I thought it had been that an hour ago!—heigho!—here's my +patron, Lord Scratch.</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Lord Scratch</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> What a wonderful virtue is the art of hear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>ing!—may I die, if a +listener be found any where:—Zounds! am not I a peer, and don't I talk +by prerogative?—and, if I mayn't talk ten times as much as another +person, what's the use of my peerage?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> I've an idea—I don't comprehend you.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> That fellow Neville wouldn't hear a word I had to +say:—abandoned young dog!—he's come to Bath to invent tales against +that divinity, Lady Waitfor't, again, I suppose—but my ward, Louisa, +shall be put out of his power for ever—she shall marry you to-morrow.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> In fact—I always forgot to give your lordship joy of your +title, though not of your dress.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Not of my dress!—ay, ay;—that's the difference—you poor +devils, in humble life, are obliged to dress well, to look like +gentlemen—we peers may dress as we please—[<i>Looking at his watch.</i>] +but I shall lose my appointments—past two o'clock.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> Past two o'clock!—delightful!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Delightful!—what, at your old tricks?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> I'd an idea—it had been only one.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> And you're delighted because it's an hour later?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> To be sure I am—my dear friend, to be sure I am—the enemy has +lost a limb.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> So you're happy, because you're an hour nearer the other +world?—tell me now,—do you wish to die?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> No.—But I wish somebody would invent a new mode of killing +time—in fact, I think I've found one—private acting.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Acting!—never talk to me about the stage—I detest a theatre, +and every thing that belongs to it: and if ever—but no matter—I must +to Lady Waitfor't, and prevail on her to marry me at the same time you +marry my ward.—But, remember our agreement—you are to settle your +estate on Louisa, and I am to bring you into parliament.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span><i>Ennui.</i> In fact, I comprehend—I am to be a hearer and not a speaker.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Lord.</i> Speaker!—if you open your mouth, the Chiltern Hundreds is your +portion.—Look ye—you are to be led quietly to the right side—to sleep +during the debate—give a nod for your vote,—and in every respect, move +like a mandarin, at my command;—in short, you are to be a mandarin +member.—So, fare you well till we're both married.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> I've an idea, here's Neville.—In fact—he knows nothing of my +marrying Louisa, nor shall he, till after the happy day.—Strange news, +Neville.</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Neville</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> I've heard it all. Louisa is going to be married; but to whom I +know not,—and my Lord persists in his fatal attachment to Lady +Waitfor't.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> In fact—Why fatal?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> Because it is the source of every mischief.—While she maintains +her power over him, I have no hope of love or fortune:—When my father +died, he left his estate to my brother, relying on my lord providing for +me—and now, how he deserts me!—and all owing to the artifices of an +insidious woman.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> I've an idea, I comprehend her motive—she loves you.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> Yes, 'tis too plain—and, because I would not listen to her +advances, she has ruined me in my uncle's opinion, and degraded me in +Louisa's;—but I will see Miss Courtney herself—I will hear my doom +from her own mouth; and if she avoids me, I will leave her, and this +country, for ever.</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Peter</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Peter.</i> A letter, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> Without direction!—What can it mean?</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Peter.</i> Sir, 'tis from Lady Waitfor't.—The servant, who brought it, +said, her ladyship had reasons for not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> directing it, which she would +explain to you when she saw you.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Nev.</i> Oh, the old stratagem:—as it is not directed, she may swear it +was designed for another person.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Reads.</i></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Sir</i>,</p> + +<p><i>I have heard of your arrival at Bath, and, strange as +my conduct may appear, I think it a duty I owe to the +virtuous part of mankind, to promote their happiness as +much as I can; I have long beheld your merit, and long +wished to encourage it.—I shall be at home at six this +<span style="word-spacing: 2em;">evening. Yours,</span></i></p> + +<p style="text-align: right;"><span class="smcap">A. Waitfor't.</span></p></div> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> In fact—a very sentimental assignation, that would do as well +for any other man.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> If I show it to my lord, I know his bigotry is such, that he +would, as usual, only suppose it a trick of my own—the more cause there +is to condemn, the more he approves.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> I've an idea, he's incomprehensible.—In fact—who have we +here?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> As I live, Vapid, the dramatic author—he is come to Bath to pick +up characters, I suppose.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> In fact—pick up!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> Yes—he has the ardor scribendi upon him so strong, that he would +rather you'd ask him to write an epilogue to a new play, than offer him +your whole estate—the theatre is his world, in which are included all +his hopes and wishes.—In short, he is a dramatic maniac. And to such an +extent does he carry his folly, that if he were not the best natured +fellow in the world, every body would kick him out of doors.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> Has he not a share of vanity in his composition?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> Oh yes—he fancies himself a great favourite with the women.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> Then I've an idea—I've got a thought, by which you may revenge +yourself on Lady Waitfor't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>—in fact—give him the letter—he'll +certainly believe 'tis meant for himself.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> My dear friend, ten thousand thanks!—We'll flatter his vanity, +by persuading him she is young and beautiful, and my life on't it does +wonders;—but, hush, he comes.</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Vapid</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> Vapid! I rejoice to see you,—'tis a long time since we met; give +me leave to introduce you to a particular friend of mine—Mr Ennui—Mr +Vapid.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> I've an idea—you do me honour—Mr Vapid, I shall be proud to +be better acquainted with you—in fact—any thing of consequence +stirring in the fashionable or political world?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Some whispers about a new pantomime, sir,—nothing else.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> And I'm afraid, in the present scarcity of good writers, we have +little else to expect.—Pray, Vapid, how is the present dearth of genius +to be accounted for; particularly dramatic genius?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Why, as to dramatic genius, sir, the fact is this—to give a +true picture of life, a man should enter into all its scenes,—should +follow nature, sir—but modern authors plunder from one another—the +mere shades of shadows.—Now, sir, for my part, I dive into the world—I +search the heart of man;—'tis true I'm called a rake—but, upon my +soul, I only game, drink, and intrigue, that I may be better able to +dramatize each particular scene.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> A good excuse for profligacy.—But tell me, Vapid, have you got +any new characters since you came to Bath?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> 'Faith, only two—and those not very new either.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> In fact—may we ask what they are?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> If you don't write.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> No, we certainly do not.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span><i>Vapid.</i> Then I'll tell you:—The first is a charitable divine, who, in +the weighty consideration how he shall best lavish his generosity, never +bestows it at all:—and the other is a cautious apothecary, who, in +determining which of two medicines is best for his patient, lets him die +for want of assistance.—You understand me, I think, this last will do +something, eh?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> I've an idea—the apothecary would cut a good figure in a +comedy.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> A comedy! pshaw! I mean him for a tragedy.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> In fact—I don't comprehend, nor, possibly, the town.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> I know it—that's the very thing—hark ye, I've found out a +secret—what every body understands, nobody approves; and people always +applaud most where they least comprehend.—There is a refinement, sir, +in appearing to understand things incomprehensible—else whence arises +the pleasure at an opera, a private play, or a speech in parliament? +why, 'tis the mystery in all these things—'tis the desire to find out +what nobody else can—to be thought wiser than others—therefore—you +take me—the apothecary is the hero of my tragedy.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> 'Faith, there is some reason in all this—and I'm amazed we have +so many writers for the stage.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> So am I—and I think I'll write no more for an ungrateful +public—you don't know any body that has a play coming out, do you?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> No—why do you ask?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> He'll want an epilogue you know, that's all.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> Why, you won't write him one, will you?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> I! oh Lord! no;—but genius ought to be encouraged, and as he's +a friend of yours,—what's the name of the play?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span><i>Nev.</i> I really don't know any body that has written one.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Yes——yes——you do.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> Upon my word, I do not—a cousin of mine, indeed, wrote one for +his amusement, but I don't think he could ever be prevailed on to +produce it on the stage.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> He prevailed on!—the manager you mean—but what did you think +of it?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> I never read it, but am told it is a good play—and if performed, +Vapid, he will be proud of your assistance.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> I speak in time, because it is material—many a dull play has +been saved by a good epilogue.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> True—but I had almost forgot.—Why, Vapid, the lady in the Grove +will enlarge your knowledge amazingly.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> I've an idea—she's the pattern of perfection.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> The paragon of beauty! Ah, Vapid! I would give worlds for the +coldest expression in this letter.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> That letter!—what do you mean by that letter?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> And you really pretend not to know the young Lady Waitfor't?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> No,—I hav'n't spoke to a woman at Bath,—but a sweet girl I +danced with at the ball; and who she is, by the Lord, I don't know.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> Well, but, Vapid—young Lady Waitfor't—she loves you to +distraction.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> As I hope for fame, I never heard her name before.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Nev.</i> Then she has heard yours, and admires your genius; however, read +the letter, and be satisfied she loves you.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i><span class="smcap">Vapid</span> reads.</i></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Arrived at Bath—duty I owe—virtuous part of +mankind—beheld your merit—wish to encourage—six this +evening.—A. Waitfor't—Grove.</i></p></div> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span><i>Vapid.</i> Yes, yes, it's plain enough now—she admires my talents!—It +isn't the first time, Neville, this has happened.—Sweet fond +fool!—I'll go and prepare myself directly.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> Ay do, Vapid,—she'll be all on fire to see you.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> All on fire! I suppose so.—Write a play, Neville, write a +play—you see the effect of the muses and graces when they unite—you +see, Neville, you see——but, hold, hold—how the devil came you by this +letter?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> That's true enough. [<i>Aside.</i>] I'll tell you—I was at her party +last night, and on coming out of the room she slipt it into my hand, and +desired me to direct it, and give it to you—She has often spoke to me +in your favour, and I did you all the good I could—however, to be sure +it's no mistake, ask the servant, who admits you, if the name at the +bottom is not her own hand-writing.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Vapid.</i> Oh, no!—it's no mistake,—there's no doubt of the +matter.—Write a play, Neville, write a play—and charm the ladies, you +dog!—adieu!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> I've an idea—if we've common fortune, this will do every +thing.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> No,—Lady Waitfor't's arts are numberless—she is so perfect a +hypocrite, that I even doubt her confessing her real sentiments to her +minion Willoughby; and when she does a bad action, she ever pretends +'tis from a good motive.</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Vapid</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Gad, I forgot—you'll recollect the epilogue, Neville.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> Yes,—I'll write to my cousin to-day.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> But, not a word of the love affair to him—any where else +indeed it might do one a service—but never tell an intrigue to a +dramatic author.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span><i>Ennui.</i> In fact—why not sir?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Because it may furnish a scene for a comedy—I do it +myself.—Indeed, I think the best part of an intrigue is the hopes of +incident, or stage effect—however, I can't stay.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> Nay, we'll walk with you—I, in pursuit of my brother—you, of +your mistress.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Ay, Neville, there it is—now, do take my advice, and write a +play—if any incident happens, remember, it is better to have written a +damned play, than no play at all—it snatches a man from obscurity—and +being particular, as this world goes, is a very great thing.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> But I confess I have no desire to get into print.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Get into print!—pshaw! every body gets into print now.—Kings +and quacks—peers and poets—bishops and boxers—tailors and trading +justices—can't go lower, you know—all get into print!—But we soar a +little higher,—we have privileges peculiar to ourselves.—Now, sir, +I—I, for my part, can talk as I please,—say what I will, it is sure to +excite mirth,—for, supposing you don't laugh at my wit, I laugh myself, +Neville, and that makes every body else do the same—so allons!</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Ennui.</i> I've an idea—no bad mode of routing the enemy.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exeunt.</i></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newact"><a name="ACT_THE_SECOND" id="ACT_THE_SECOND"></a>ACT THE SECOND.</h2> + + +<p class="scene">SCENE I.</p> + + +<p class="stagedir"><i>An Apartment in <span class="smcap">Lady Waitfor't's</span> House.—Two Chairs.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Vapid</span> and a <span class="smcap">Servant</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Serv.</i> Sir, my lady will wait on you immediately.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Hark ye, sir—Is this young lady of yours very handsome?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Serv.</i> Sir?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Is your young mistress, sir, very handsome?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Serv.</i> Yes, sir.—My young mistress is thought a perfect beauty.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Charming!—What age do you reckon her?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Serv.</i> About twenty, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> The right interesting age! and fond of the drama, I suppose?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Serv.</i> Sir?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Very fond of plays, I presume?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Serv.</i> Yes, sir, very fond of plays, or any thing relating to them.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Delightful!—now am I the happiest dog alive:—yes, yes, Vapid! +let the town damn your plays, the women will never desert you. [<i>Seats +himself.</i>] You needn't stay, sir. [<i>Exit <span class="smcap">Servant</span>.</i>] That's a good sign, +that fellow isn't used to this kind of business—so much the +better—practice is the destruction of love——yes, I shall indulge a +beautiful woman,—gratify myself, and, perhaps, get the last scene for +my unfinished comedy.</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Lady Waitfor't</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Sir, your most obedient.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Vapid.</i> Ma'am.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Bowing.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Pray keep your seat, sir—I beg I mayn't disturb you.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Vapid.</i> By no means, ma'am, give me leave—[<i>Both sit.</i>] Who the devil +have we here?</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Aside.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> I am told, sir, you have business for Lady Waitfor't?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Yes, ma'am—being my first appearance in that character, but I +could wait whole hours for so beautiful a woman.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Oh, sir!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Yes—I am no stranger to her charms——sweet young creature!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Nay, dear sir, not so <i>very</i> young.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Your pardon, ma'am,—and her youth enhances her other +merits.—But, oh! she has one charm that surpasses all.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Has she, sir?—What may that be?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Her passion for the stage.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Sir!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Yes, her passion for the stage; that, in my mind, makes her the +first of her sex.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Sir, she has no passion for the stage.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Yes, yes, she has.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> But I protest she has not.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> But I declare and affirm it as a fact, she has a strong passion +for the stage, and a violent attachment for all the people that belong +to it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Sir, I don't understand you—explain.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Hark ye,—we are alone—I promise it shall go no further, and +I'll let you into a secret—I know——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Well, what do you know?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> I know a certain dramatic author with whom she——he had a +letter from her this morning.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span><i>Lady.</i> What?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Yes,—an assignation—don't be alarmed—the man may be depended +on—he is safe—very safe!—Long in the habit of intrigue—a good person +too!—a very good person indeed.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Amazement!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> [<i>Whispering her.</i>] Hark ye, he means to make her happy in less +than half an hour.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> [<i>Rising.</i>] Sir, do you know who you're talking to?—do you know +who I am?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> No,—How the devil should I?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Then know I am Lady Waitfor't!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> You Lady Waitfor't!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Yes, sir—the only Lady Waitfor't!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Mercy on me!—here's incident!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Yes, and I am convinced you were sent here by that traitor, +Neville.—Speak, is he not your friend?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Yes, ma'am:—I know Mr Neville.—Here's equivoque!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> This is some trick, some stratagem of his.—He gave you the +letter to perplex and embarrass me.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Gave the letter! 'gad that's great.—Pray, ma'am, give me leave +to ask you one question—Did you write to Mr Neville?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Yes, sir,—to confess the truth, I did—but from motives——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Stop, my dear ma'am, stop—I have it—now,—let me be +clear—first, you send him a letter; is it not so? yes: then he gives it +to me—very well: then I come (supposing you only twenty) mighty +well!—then you turn out ninety—charming!—-then comes the +embarrassment: then the eclaircissement! Oh! it's glorious!—Give me +your hand—you have atoned for every thing.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> O! I owe all this to that villain, Neville—I am not +revengeful—but 'tis a weakness to endure<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> such repeated provocations, +and I am convinced the mind, that too frequently forgives bad actions, +will at last forget good ones.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Vapid.</i> Bravo! encore, encore—it is the very best sentiment I ever +heard—say it again, pray say it again—I'll take it down, and blend it +with the incident, and you shall be gratified, one day or other, with +seeing the whole on the stage.—"The mind that too frequently forgives +bad actions will at last forget good ones."</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Taking it down in his +common place book.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Lady.</i> This madman's folly is not to be borne—if my Lord too should +discover him. [<i><span class="smcap">Vapid</span> sits, and takes notes.</i>] Here, the consequences +might be dreadful, and the scheme of Ennui's play all undone.—Sir, I +desire you'll quit my house immediately—Oh! I'll be revenged, I'm +determined.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Vapid.</i> What a great exit!—--Very well!—I've got an incident, +however.—'Faith, I have noble talents—to extract gold from lead has +been the toil of numberless philosophers; but I extract it from a baser +metal, human frailty—Oh! it's a great thing to be a dramatic genius!—a +very great thing indeed.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>As he is going</i>,</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Lord Scratch</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Sir, your most devoted,——How d'ye do?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Sir, your most obedient.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Very warm tragedy weather, sir!—but, for my part, I hate +summer, and I'll tell you why,—the theatres are shut, and when I pass +by their doors in an evening, it makes me melancholy—I look upon them +as the tombs of departed friends that were wont to instruct and delight +me—I don't know how you feel—perhaps you are not in my way?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Sir!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Perhaps you don't write for the stage—if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> you do,—hark +ye—there is a capital character in this house for a farce.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Why! what is all this—who are you?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Who am I?—here's a question! in these times who can tell who +he is?—for aught I know I may be great uncle to yourself, or first +cousin to Lady Waitfor't—the very woman I was about to—but no +matter—since you're so very inquisitive, do you know who you are?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Look ye, sir, I am Lord Scratch.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Vapid.</i> A peer! pshaw! contemptible;—when I ask a man who he is, I +don't want to know what are his titles, and such nonsense; no, Old +Scratch, I want to know what he has written, when he had the curtain up, +and whether he's a true son of the drama.—Harkye, don't make yourself +uneasy on my account—In my next pantomime, perhaps, I'll let you know +who I am, Old Scratch.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Lord.</i> Astonishing! can this be Lady Waitfor't's house—"Very warm +tragedy weather, sir!" "In my next pantomime, let you know who I +am."—Gad, I must go and investigate the matter immediately, and if she +has wronged me, by the blood of the Scratches, I'll bring the whole +business before parliament, make a speech ten hours long, reduce the +price of opium, and set the nation in a lethargy.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + + +<p class="scene">SCENE II.</p> + + +<p class="stagedir"><i>A Library in <span class="smcap">Lady Waitfor't's</span> House.—A Sofa and two Chairs.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Vapid</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Either this house is a labyrinth, or I, in reflecting on my +incident, have forgot myself; for so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> it is I can't find my way out—who +have we here? by the sixtieth night, my little partner!</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Marianne</span>, with a Book in her Hand.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Mari.</i> The poet I danced with!—he little thinks how much I've thought +of him since—Sir.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Courtesying.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Vapid.</i> Ma'am.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Bowing.</i>]</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> I hope, sir, you caught no cold the other night?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> No, ma'am, I was much nearer a fever than a cold.—Pray, ma'am, +what is your study?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> I have been reading "All for Love."—Pray, sir, do you know any +thing about plays?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Know any thing about plays!—there's a question!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> I know so much about them, that I once acted at a private +theatre.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Did you? Then you acted for your own amusement, and nobody's +else: what was the play?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> I can't tell!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Can't tell?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> No,—nobody knew,—it's a way they have.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Then they never act a play of mine.—With all this partiality +for the stage—perhaps you would be content with a dramatist for +life—particularly if his morals were fine?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Lord! I don't care about fine morals—I'd rather my husband had +fine teeth,—and I'm told most women of fashion are of the same opinion.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> To be sure they are,—but could you really consent to run away +with a poet?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> 'Faith—with all my heart—they never have any money, you know, +and, as I have none, our distress would be complete; and, if we had any +luck, our adventures would become public, and then we should get into a +novel at last.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span><i>Vapid.</i> Into a prison, more probably—if she goes on in this way, I +must dramatize her first,—and run away with her afterwards. [<i>Aside.</i>] +Come, are you ready?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady W.</i> [<i>Without.</i>] Tell my lord, sir, I'll wait in the library.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Oh lord! my aunt, what's to be done?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> What's to be done!—why?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> She mustn't find you here—she'll be the death of us, she is so +violent.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Well, I'm not afraid—she's no manager.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> If you have any pity for me—here—hide yourself for a moment +behind this sofa, and I'll get her out of the room directly.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Behind the sofa! here's an incident!</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Mari.</i> Nay—pray—she's here! come—quick!—quick!—</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i><span class="smcap">Vapid</span> gets behind the Sofa, <span class="smcap">Marianne</span> sits on it, takes out her work +bag, and begins singing——</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Toll de roll, &c.</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Lady Waitfor't</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Marianne, how came you here? I desire you'll leave the room +directly.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Leave the room, aunt?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Yes, leave the room immediately—what are you looking at?</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Mari.</i> Nothing, aunt, nothing—Lord! lord! what will become of poor, +poor Mr Poet?</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> So—here's my lord—now to mention Ennui's play, and if it does +but prejudice him against him, Willoughby marries Louisa, and Neville is +in my own power.</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Lord Scratch</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> That curst pantomime ruffian! nobody knows any thing about +him—perhaps my lady has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> got a sudden touch of the dramatic mania, and +prefers him—here she is—now if she would talk about the stage.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Pray be seated, my lord—I want to ask you a favour.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Lord.</i> Ask me a favour? Is it possible?</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>They sit.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Yes, for your friend Ennui—what do you think he has done?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> What?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Turned author.—He has written a comedy.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> A comedy!—she has it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Yes—it's very true, and it has been approved of by men of the +first dramatic fame.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Dramatic fame! she has it!—dam'me, she has it!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Nay, if you need farther proof, my lord, it has been approved by +the manager of one of the theatres, and the curtain is to draw up next +winter.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> The curtain draw up!—Look ye, madam, I care no more for the +manager or his theatre——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Now, my lord, the favour I have to ask of you is this—promise +me to peruse the play, make alterations, and write the epilogue.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Lord.</i> The epilogue!—fire and forefathers!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i><span class="smcap">Lady</span> holds him.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Ay, or the prologue.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Lord.</i> The prologue! blood and gunpowder!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i><span class="smcap">Vapid</span> comes from behind the sofa, and smacks him on the back.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Prologue or epilogue!—I'm the man—I'll write you both.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> There he is again!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Oh! I shall faint with vexation!—My lord, I desire you'll +misinterpret nothing—every thing shall be explained to you.—Marianne!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Here's the curtain up with a vengeance!</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Marianne</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Answer me directly, how came that gentleman in this apartment? I +know it is some trick of yours.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> [<i>Coming down the stage.</i>] To be sure, never any thing was so +fortunate!—upon my soul, I beg your pardon; but, curse me, if I can +help laughing, to think how lucky it was for you both I happened to be +behind the sofa!—ha! ha! ha!</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Mari.</i> [<i>As if taking the hint.</i>] 'Faith, no more can I—to be sure it +was the luckiest thing in the world! ha! ha! ha!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Here they both laugh loud, and point to my <span class="smcap">Lord</span>, and <span class="smcap">Lady Waitfor't</span>, +who stand, between them in amazement.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Sir, I insist you lay aside this levity, and instantly explain +how you came in this room.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Ay, sir,—explain.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Never fear, old lady—I'll bring you off, depend on't.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Bring me off, sir! speak out, sir, how came you in this +apartment?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> With all my heart—by her ladyship's own appointment.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> My own appointment!—--I shall run wild.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> To be sure you have hardly forgot your own hand writing.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Her own hand writing!—get on, sir,—I beseech you, get on.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Why, look ye, old Scratch,—you seem to be an admirer of this +lady's.—Now I think it my duty as a moral dramatist—a moral dramatist, +sir, mark that—to expose hypocrisy—therefore, sir, there is the +letter, read it, and be convinced of your error.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Very well; have you done, sir—have you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> done?—consider I'm a +peer of the realm, and I shall die if I don't talk.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> And now, sir, I must beg a favour of you—[<i>Gets close to +him.</i>]—keep the whole affair secret, for if it gets hacknied, it loses +its force.—To bring it all on the stage: hush! say nothing—it will +have a capital effect, and brother bards will wonder where I stole +it—your situation will be wonderful—you hav'n't an idea how ridiculous +you will look—you will laugh very much at yourself, I assure you.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> What is all this! Well, now I will speak—I'll wait no longer.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Vapid.</i> Yes, yes, I shall take care of you,—Falstaff in the buck +basket will be nothing to it—he was only the dupe of another man's +wife,—you'll be the dupe of your own, you know—"think of that, Master +Brook, think of that." Well, your servant.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> He's gone without hearing me!—then there's an end of every +thing, for here I stand, once a barrister,—since a country gentleman, +and now a peer; and, though I have made twenty attempts to speak, I +can't be heard a syllable,—mercy! what will this world come to! A peer, +and not be heard!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> My lord,—assured of my innocence, I have no doubt of justifying +my own conduct, and even by means of that letter increasing your +affection.—It was written to another person—your ungrateful nephew.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> My nephew?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Yes, sir, I could not perceive him losing the esteem of his +friends, without having the desire to reclaim him—indeed, I knew no +better mode of fulfilling my project, than by personally warning him of +his situation.—For this purpose, I wrote that letter, and I never +thought it would have been thus misused.—If there is any improper +warmth in the expressions, it only proceeds from my anxiety of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> ensuring +an interview.—I hope, sir, you are satisfied.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Why, I believe you, my lady; and I should be perfectly satisfied +if I could forget your passion for the stage, and that madman behind the +sofa.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> As to that, sir, this young lady can best inform you.—I desired +him to leave the house an hour ago.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> [<i>Aside.</i>] I'm afraid my only way is to confess all.—My lord, +if I confess the truth, I hope you'll prevail on my aunt to forgive me.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Tell what you know, and I'll answer for your forgiveness.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Why, sir, I found the gentleman alone, and not having had a +<i>tête-a-tête</i> a long time, I pressed him to stay, and, on hearing your +voice, I put him behind the sofa,—that you might not think any thing +had happened,—and, indeed, sir, nothing did happen—upon my word he's +as quiet, inoffensive a gentleman as yourself.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> My fears are over! Oh! you finished composition! come to my +arms, and when I suspect you again—[<i>Coughs much.</i>]—this curst cough, +it takes one so suddenly!</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Ennui</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> I've an idea—Floriville is arrived—in fact—I just now spoke +to him.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Lord.</i> Floriville arrived!—Come, my lady—let's go see what his +travels have done for him.—Hark ye, Ennui—prepare for your interview +with Louisa, and remember you make a mandarin member.—Come, my +lady—nay, never irritate your feelings.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exeunt <span class="smcap">Lord</span> and <span class="smcap">Lady</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> So—poor Mr Neville is to lose Miss Courtney.—Her present +quarrel with him is so violent, that she may marry this idiot merely in +revenge.—If I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> could dupe him now, and ensure her contempt.—I'll +try.—Mr Ennui, have you seen your intended wife yet?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> No.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> So I thought—why you'll never please her while you remain as +you are.—You must alter your manners.—She is all life!—all +spirits!—and loves a man the very opposite to you.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> I've an idea—I'm very sorry—in fact—how can I please her?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> There's the difficulty—let me see—the sort of man she prefers +is—you know Sir Harry Hustle?—a man all activity and confidence!—who +does every thing from fashion, and glories in confessing it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> Sir Harry Hustle?—in fact—he's a modern blood of fashion.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> I know—that's the reason she likes him, and you must become the +same, if you wish to win her affection—a new dress—bold looks—a few +oaths, and much swaggering, effects the business. [<i><span class="smcap">Ennui</span> puts himself +in attitudes.</i>] Ay, that's right, you are the very man already.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> I'm a lad of fashion!—eh, dam'me!—I've an idea—I shall fall +asleep in the midst of it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> No, no;—go about it directly—see Sir Harry Hustle, and study +your conversation before hand—but remember Louisa is so fond of +fashion, that you can't boast too much of its vices and absurdities.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> If virtue was the fashion, I should be virtuous!—I should, +dam'me!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Ay, that's the very thing—well;—good bye, Mr Ennui—success +attend you—mind you talk enough.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Ennui.</i> Talk!—I'll talk till I fall asleep!—I will! dam'me!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit, swaggering.—<span class="smcap">Marianne</span> laughing.</i></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newact"><a name="ACT_THE_THIRD" id="ACT_THE_THIRD"></a>ACT THE THIRD.</h2> + + +<p class="scene">SCENE I.</p> + + +<p class="stagedir"><i>A Saloon in <span class="smcap">Lady Waitfor't's</span> House.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i><span class="smcap">Louisa</span> discovered reading.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Heigho! these poets are wonderfully tiresome—always on the +same theme—nothing but love—I'm weary of it. [<i>Lays down the book, and +rises.</i>] Ungenerous Neville! how could he use me so cruelly? to attempt +to gain my affections, and then address another? Lady Waitfor't has +convinced me of the fact,—I can never forgive him: yet, I fear I love +him still—well, I'll even go examine my heart, and determine whether I +do love him or not.</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Neville</span>, as she is going out.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue">Mr Neville!—I thought, sir, I had desired we might never meet again.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> 'Tis true, madam, and I meant to obey your commands, hard as they +were, implicitly obey them—but I came hither to welcome my brother, and +not to intrude on the happiness of her I am doomed to avoid.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> If I remember, sir, truth was ever among the foremost of your +virtues?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> Yes—and I am confident you have no reason to doubt it—though +you have cause to censure my presumption, you have none to suspect my +fidelity.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Oh no!—I don't suspect your fidelity in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> the least, but when +people are faithful to more than one, you know, Mr Neville——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> I don't understand you, ma'am.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Louisa.</i> It is no matter, Mr Neville—you may spare yourself any +trouble in attempting to justify your conduct—I am perfectly satisfied, +sir, I'll assure you.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Going.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> Oh, do not leave me in this anxious state!—perhaps this is the +last time we shall ever meet, and to part thus, would embitter every +future moment of my life. Indeed, I have no hopes that concern not your +happiness—no wishes that relate not to your esteem.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Sir,—I will freely confess to you, had you shown the least +perseverance in your affection or sincerity in your behaviour, I could +have heard your addresses with pleasure—but to listen to them now, Mr +Neville, would be to approve a conduct, my honour prompts me to resent, +and my pride to despise.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> Then I am lost indeed!—'Tis to the perfidious Lady Waitfor't I +owe all this—my present</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Lady Waitfor't</span>, behind.</i></p> + +<p>misery—my future pain—are all the product of her jealous rage!—She is +so vile a hypocrite, that—</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> [<i>Coming forward.</i>] Who is a hypocrite, sir?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> Madam!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Who is a hypocrite, sir? answer me.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> Ask your own heart, that can best inform you.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Tell me, Mr Neville, what have I done, that you dare insult me +thus?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> What have you done! look on that lady, madam;—there all my hopes +and wishes were combined!—There was the very summit of my bliss!—I +thought I had attained it; but in the moment of my happiness, you came, +crushed every hope, and baffled all my joys.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span><i>Lady.</i> Upon my word, sir, very romantic,—but I thank Heaven, I look +for approbation in a better opinion than that of Mr Neville's.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> 'Tis well you do, madam; for were I your judge, your punishment +should be exemplary.—But I'll waste words no more—I only hope [<i>To +<span class="smcap">Louisa</span>.</i>] you, madam, are satisfied that one of my errors may at least +be forgiven, and this last suspicion for ever blotted from your memory.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Sir,—from that lady's forgiveness you have nothing to +expect—if she consents to pardon you, I'll take care my lord never +shall.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> No—I do not hope for forgiveness—I have heard her +determination; and, cruel as it is, to that I must resign;—she may be +assured I never will intrude where I know I offend.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Do you then leave us, Mr Neville?</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Nev.</i> Yes, madam,—and for ever!—--May you be as blest in the +gratification of your hopes as I have been wretched in the +disappointment of mine.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Tyrant! I wish he had stayed to hear reason—I hope he is not +serious in leaving us.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> You hope!—Why does it concern you?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Oh! no further than from that general love I bear mankind.—You +forget my feelings on these occasions, Louisa.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Louisa.</i> Yes, indeed—I have too much reason to attend to my +own!—You'll excuse me—I have particular business—I'll return +immediately.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Oh! the cause of her confusion is evident—she loves him +still—but they shall never meet again—I have already sent a letter to +Willoughby, which imparts a scheme I have long cherished. My lord, in +his anger about my stage mania, has forgot Ennui's play; so, that there +may be no bars to Willoughby's happiness, I am determined Louisa shall +be his this very night.</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Lord Scratch</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Here's a spectacle for a peer! Floriville is below, and has +returned from his travels a finished coxcomb.—I'll not give him a +farthing.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Nay, my lord, perhaps you may be mistaken.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Mistaken! no,—he has travelled not to see, but to say he had +seen.</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Marianne</span>, with a French Watch and Chain.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Oh, uncle-in-law! look here——I never saw any thing so elegant +in all my life.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Whose present is this?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Whose!—why the sweet gentleman's just arrived from +Italy.—Lord! he's a dear man!—He has promised to do every thing for +me—to get me a fortune—to get me a husband—to get me a——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Hush! you don't know what you are talking about.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Mari.</i> Yes, but I do, though—he has told me every thing—Lord! I have +heard such things!—Come here, near—[<i><span class="smcap">Lord Scratch</span> gets close to her.</i>] +get my aunt out of the room, and I'll tell you stories that shall make +your old heart bound again! Hush! do it quietly—I will, upon my +honour.—What an old fool it is!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Aside.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Marianne, you mustn't listen to Mr Floriville,—for travellers +may persuade you into any thing—and many a woman has been ruined in one +country, by being told it is the fashion in another.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Here he comes: I see, as plain as my peerage, I sha'n't keep my +temper.</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Floriville</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Ladies, a thousand pardons, for not waiting on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> you before, but +this is the first vacant moment I have had since my arrival in Bath.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Sir, your coming at all is taken as a very great compliment, +I'll assure you.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Leave the room immediately—no reply—I will be obeyed—[<i>To +<span class="smcap">Marianne</span>, who exits.</i>] Mr Floriville, we are very happy to see you.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Ma'am, you do me honour—my lord, where's Harry?—I thought to +have found him here;—what, he didn't chuse to stay?—so much the +better—it shows he's not a man of ceremony—we do the same in Italy. +But, hark ye, uncle,—is this the lady I'm to call my aunt?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> My gorge is rising: I shall certainly do him a mischief.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> [<i>Spying at her.</i>] Rather experienced or so—a little antique, +eh!—however, the same motive that makes her a good aunt to me, will +make her a good wife to you—you understand me?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Dam'me if I do.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Well, well, no matter—come, I want to hear every thing—to know +what remarkable occurrences have happened since I left England.—Pray, +Lady Waitfor't, inform me—do let me know every little circumstance.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Rather, sir, we should ask of you what happened in your travels?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Oh, nothing so shocking!—no man can be the herald of his own +praise.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Yes, sir,—but I wish to know how you like the Chapel of +Loretto, the Venus de Medicis of Florence, the Vatican at Rome, and all +the numberless curiosities peculiar to the countries you have travelled +through?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Look ye—I'll answer for it, he knows nothing of the gentlemen +you mention—do you, my sweet pretty?—Oh! you damned puppy!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span><i>Flor.</i> Why swear, my lord?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Swear, my lord! Zounds! it's my prerogative, and, by——tell me +how you spent your time, sir?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Why, in contemplating living angels, not dead antiquities;—in +basking in the rays of beauty, not mouldering in the dust of +ancestry;—in mirth, festivity, and pleasure; not study, pedantry, and +retirement.—Oh, I have lived, sir! lived for myself, not an ungrateful +world, who, should I die a martyr to their cause, would only laugh and +wonder at my folly.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> You seem to know the world, Mr Floriville.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> No, ma'am, I know little of mankind, and less of myself,—I have +no pilot, but my pleasures;—no mistress, but my passions;—and I don't +believe, if it was to save my life, I could reason consequentially for a +minute together.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Granted:—you have seen every thing worth seeing, yet know +nothing worth knowing;—and now you have just knowledge enough to prove +yourself a fool on every subject.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Vastly well, my lord—upon my word, you improve with your title, +but I am perfectly satisfied, believe me—for what I don't know, I take +for granted is not worth knowing—therefore we'll call another +topic.—I'm in love, my lord.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> In love!—with who, sir?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Can't you guess?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> No, sir, I cannot.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> With one that will please you very much—at least, ought to +please you—you'll be in raptures, dear uncle.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Raptures! and you shall be in agonies, my dear nephew.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> You have known one another a long while, yet you hav'n't met for +years—you have loved one an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>other a long while, yet you quarrelled not +an hour ago—you have differed from one another all your lives, yet you +are likely to be friends as long as you live—and, above all, the person +is now in the house.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> In this house! let me know who it is this moment, or by the +blood of the Scratches——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> One who has charms enough to set the world on fire;—one who has +fortune enough to set a state at war, sir;—one who has talents, health, +and prosperity, and yet not half what the person deserves:—can you tell +now, sir?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> No, sir, and if you don't tell this instant——</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Flor.</i> Then I'll tell you, [<i>Slaps him on the back.</i>] it's myself, sir! +my own charming self!—I have searched the world over, and I don't find +any thing I like half so well.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Walks up the stage.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Lord.</i> I won't disgrace myself,—I won't lower the dignity of peerage, +by chastising a commoner;—else, you Prince of Butterflies——come, my +lady——look ye, sir—I intend to be handed down to posterity; and, +while you are being lampooned in ballads and newspapers, I mean to cut a +figure in the History of England:—so, come along, my lady—in the +History of England, you coxcomb!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exeunt <span class="smcap">Lord</span> and <span class="smcap">Lady</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> If the face is the picture of the mind, that intended aunt of +mine is a great hypocrite, and the story I heard of the poet proves +it.—But now for a frolic—'gad it's very strange I could never reform, +and become a serious thinking being—but what's the use of thinking?</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Reason stays till we call, and then not oft is near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But honest instinct comes a volunteer!—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + +<p class="scene">SCENE II.</p> + + +<p class="stagedir"><i>An Apartment in <span class="smcap">Lady Waitfor't's</span> House.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Willoughby</span> and <span class="smcap">Servant</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Will.</i> [<i>To <span class="smcap">Servant</span>.</i>] Tell your mistress I shall be punctual to the +appointment. [<i>Exit <span class="smcap">Servant</span>.</i>] So, thanks to fortune, Lady Waitfor't has +at length consented to my entreaties, and this night makes Louisa mine +for ever!—now to read the letter once more.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Reads.</i></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Louisa accompanies me to-night to Lady Walton's, which +you know is at the extremity of the town—on some +pretence or other I'll tell her I have ordered the +servant at the back gate which adjoins the +paddock,—there I'll leave her—and if you have a +chaise waiting near the spot, you may conduct her where +you please.—You know my feelings on this occasion, but +it is for her good only, I'll assure you—she don't +deserve it, Mr Willoughby:—indeed she don't deserve +it.</i></p> + +<p style="text-align: right;"><span class="smcap">A. Waitfor't.</span></p></div> + +<p class="dialogue3">So—this is beyond my hopes!—ha! my Lord, and Louisa with him, come to +receive Ennui, whom, to my astonishment, I met just now swearing and +capering, and boasting of the vices of fashion—but no matter—I must to +the rendezvous immediately—now, Louisa, tremble at my vengeance!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Lord Scratch</span> and <span class="smcap">Louisa</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Yes, yes:—Ennui will be here in an instant—but he's so +reserved—and so mild—</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> So I understand, sir—and so very silent, that he won't talk +so much in a year, as I intend in an hour.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> I know—that's the reason I bring him into parliament—he'll +never speak—only say "Ay" or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> "No," and be up stairs to beef-steaks in +an instant, [<i>Knock.</i>] Here he is!—now encourage him—don't mind his +diffidence—</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> No, sir—I'll do all in my power to make him talk.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Lord.</i> That's well—I'll leave you together—I won't interrupt you, +[<i>Stamping without.</i>] Odso!—I must get out of the way,—encourage him; +Louisa—I beseech you encourage him!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> [<i>Without.</i>] Stand by! no ceremony, damme!—</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Heaven!—is this diffidence?</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Ennui</span> and <span class="smcap">Servant</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Ennui.</i> Get down stairs, you dog—get down,—[<i>Exit <span class="smcap">Servant</span>.</i>] Here I +am, ma'am:—ease is every thing—I'll seat myself—now for +business!—yaw—aw!—</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Yawns aside.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Sir!</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Ennui.</i> In one word, I'll tell you my character,—I'm a lad of +fashion!—I love gaming—I hate thinking—I like racing—I despise +reading—I patronize boxing—I detest reasoning—I pay debts of +honour,—not honourable debts—in short, I'll kick your servants—cheat +your family, and fight your guardian—and so if you like me, take +me—heh, damme!—I'm tired already!—yaw—aw.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Yawns aside.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Astonishing!—Mr Ennui—</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Ennui.</i> Ma'am? yaw—aw!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Aside.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Mr Ennui, can you be in your senses?</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Ennui.</i> In fact—I don't comprehend [<i>Forgetting +himself.</i>]—Oh—ay—senses! [<i>Recollecting himself.</i>] a lad of fashion +in his senses!—that's a very good joke!—if one of us had any sense, +the rest would shut him up in a cabinet of curiosities, or show him as a +wonderful animal:—they would, damme!—I can't support it!—yaw—aw!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Yawns aside.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> So, you glory in your ignorance?</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span><i>Ennui.</i> Ma'am—yaw! aw!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Aside.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> So, you glory in your ignorance—in your vices?</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Ennui.</i> I've an idea—I can't understand—[<i>Forgetting +himself.</i>]—vices! Oh:—ay, damme, to be sure; [<i>Recollecting himself.</i>] +you must be wicked, or you can't be visited—singularity is every +thing,—every man must get a character, and I'll tell you how I first +got mine:—I pretended to intrigue with my friend's wife,—paragraph'd +myself in the newspapers,—got caricatured in the print-shops—made the +story believed,—was abused by every body,—noticed for my gallantry by +every body—and at length visited by every body—I was, damme!—I'm +curst sleepy,—yaw—aw!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Yawns aside.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Incredible!—but if singularity is your system, perhaps being +virtuous would make you as particular as any thing.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Ennui.</i> Vastly well!—'gad, you're like me, a wit, and don't know it. +[<i>Taking out his Watch.</i>] How goes the enemy?—more than half the day +over!—tol de rol lol! [<i>Humming a tune.</i>] I'm as happy as if I was at a +fire, or a general riot.—Come to my arms, thou angel—thou—[<i>As he +goes to embrace her, <span class="smcap">Lord Scratch</span> enters—he embraces him.</i>] +Ah,—Scratch!—my friend Scratch!—sit down, my old boy—sit +down,—we've settled every thing.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Forces him into a Chair, and sits by +him.</i>]</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Why,—what is all this?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> She's to intrigue, and you and I are to go halves in the +damages—some rich old Nabob—we'll draw him into <i>crim. con.</i>—bring an +action directly, and a ten thousand pound verdict at least—eh, damme!—</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Why he's mad!—that dramatic maniac has bit him.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> Get a divorce—marry another, and go halves again, damme!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span><i>Lord.</i> [<i>Rising.</i>] Why, look ye, you impostor!—you—didn't you come +here to pay your addresses to this lady? and wasn't I to bring you into +parliament, for your quiet silent disposition?</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Ennui.</i> [<i>Pushing him out of his way.</i>] Hold your tongue! out of the +way, Scratch!—out of the way, or I'll do you a mischief—I will, +damme!—Zounds!—a'nt I at the top of the beau monde? and don't I set +the fashions?—if I was to cut off my head, wouldn't half the town do +the same?—they would, damme!—I get sleepy again!—yaw—aw!—</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Aside.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Here now!—here's a mandarin member;—why, he'd have bred a +civil war!—made ten long speeches in a day!—cut your head off, +indeed!—curse me but I wish you would—you must be silent then—you +couldn't talk without a head, could you?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> Yes, in parliament—as well without a head as with one—do you +think a man wants a head for a long speech, damme!—</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Servant</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Servant.</i> Her ladyship is waiting, ma'am.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Oh, I attend her,—Mr Ennui, your most obedient.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> [<i>Taking her Hand.</i>] With your leave, ma'am.—You see, +Scratch—you see.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Why, Louisa!—</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Ennui.</i> Keep your distance, Scratch—contemplate your superiors,—look +at me with the same awful respect a city beau looks at a prince,—this +way, most angelic—Scratch, cut your head off—this way, most angelic.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit with <span class="smcap">Louisa</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Lord.</i> Here's treatment!—was ever poor peer so tormented?—what am I +to do?—I'll go to Lady Waitfor't, for from her alone I meet +relief,—find a silent member, indeed!—by my privilege one might as +soon find a pin in the ocean,—charity in a bench of bishops,—or wit in +Westminster hall!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newact"><a name="ACT_THE_FOURTH" id="ACT_THE_FOURTH"></a>ACT THE FOURTH.</h2> + + +<p class="scene">SCENE I.</p> + + +<p class="stagedir"><i>The Paddock near <span class="smcap">Lady Walton's</span> House—A View of the House at a +distance, and partly moonlight.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i><span class="smcap">Willoughby</span> alone.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Willoughby.</i> 'Tis past the hour Lady Waitfor't appointed—why does she delay? I +cannot have mistaken the place—yonder's Lady Walton's house—Oh! 'would +all were past, and Louisa safely mine! I hear a noise—by Heaven 'tis +she! and with her all my happiness—I'll withdraw a while, and observe +them.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Retires.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Lady Waitfor't</span> and <span class="smcap">Louisa Courtney</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> My dear Lady Waitfor't, why do you loiter here? you cannot +find your servants in this place—let us return to Lady Walton's.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Lady.</i> No, no, they must be here,—I ordered them to wait in this very +spot, to avoid confusion. What can have become of Willoughby?</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Aside.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> If you have the least sense of fear for yourself, or regard +for me, I beg we may return to Lady Walton's.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> No, no, I tell you I ordered William at the back gate, that he +might conduct us through the paddock to our carriage; you know we might +have been whole hours getting through the crowd the other way—do be a +little patient, hav'n't I as much reason to be alarmed as yourself?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Yes, but you have not the apprehension I have; I don't know +why, but I am terrified beyond description.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Well, well, never fear; [<i>Looking out.</i>] Oh, yonder's +Willoughby! now for the grand design! [<i>Aside.</i>] Louisa, if you'll wait +here a moment I'll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> step to the next gate, and see if they are +there;—they cannot escape us then.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> No, no, don't leave me;—I wouldn't stay by myself for the +world.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Ridiculous! can't you protect yourself for an instant? must you +be all your life watch'd like a baby in leading-strings? Oh! I am +ashamed of you—only wait a moment, lest they pass by in my absence, and +I'll return to you immediately.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Well: don't stay.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Lady.</i> Stay! what have you to be frightened at? I shall not be out of +call;—besides, if there's any fear of a personal attack, may not I be +as terrified as yourself? It isn't the first time, I'll assure you, but +that's no matter;—show yourself a woman of spirit, and, at least, +emulate one of my virtues.—Now, Willoughby, the rest is thine!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i><span class="smcap">Willoughby</span> comes forward.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Willoughby.</i> Be not alarmed, Miss Courtney.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Mr Willoughby!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Willoughby.</i> Yes, madam; the man you most avoid.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Tell me, sir, immediately, how, and by whose appointment, you +came here?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Willoughby.</i> By love, madam; the same passion that has prompted me to +pursue you for years, now happily conducts me hither;—I come to lessen +your fears, not to increase them.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Then, leave me, sir, I can protect myself.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Willoughby.</i> No, not till you have heard and pitied me; I have been +long your suitor, and long scorned by you; you have treated me with +indifference, and preferred my inferiors; how I have deserved all this, +yourself can best explain, but, to prove all former cruelties are +forgotten, I here offer you my hand, and, with it, my heart.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Sir,—this is no time for hearing you on this subject; if you +wish to oblige me, leave me.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span><i>Willoughby.</i> No, not till I am answered;—years may elapse ere I shall +have another opportunity like the present, therefore no time can be so +well as now.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Then I command you to leave me,—I will not be threatened into +a compliance.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Willoughby.</i> Look ye, Miss Courtney—I would avoid taking advantage of +your situation—nay, start not—but if you persist in your contempt of +me, I know not to what extremities passion may hurry me; I have every +motive for redress, and, if you do not instantly give me your word, to +prefer me to that beggar Neville, I may do that, my cooler sense would +scorn.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Beggar, sir!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Willoughby.</i> Yes; and, were he not beneath my resentment, I'd tell you +more;—but he is too poor—too—</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Hold, sir; did you resemble him, I might esteem, nay, adore +you; but as you are, I loath, I despise, I defy you;—you take advantage +of my situation!—Hear me, sir,—though not a friend is near,—though +night opposes me, and Heaven deserts me, yet can I smile upon your +menaces, and make you tremble, villain as you are.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Willoughby.</i> Have a care, madam! another declaration like that, and +I'll delay no longer;—I'll force you to my purpose.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> You dare not, on your life you dare not.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Willoughby.</i> Nay, then—I am not to be terrified by threats,—[<i>Lays +hold of her.</i>] all struggling is in vain; this moment gratifies my +revenge,—away!</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Louisa.</i> Off,—let me go! Oh, help! help!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>As he is forcing her out, enter <span class="smcap">Floriville</span>, half drunk.</i>]</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> "Donne, donne, donne, dow." [<i>Singing part of an Italian air.</i>] +Oh, this burgundy's a glorious liquor! hey-day! who have we here?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Oh, sir! if you have any pity for an in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>jured, helpless woman, +assist one who never knew distress till now!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Go on, ma'am, go on—both damn'd drunk I perceive.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Do not be deaf to my entreaties—do not desert me—</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Go on, ma'am, go on—I love oratory in a woman.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Gracious Heaven! how have I deserved all this? I see, sir, you +avoid me. I see you are indifferent to my fate.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> No, ma'am, you wrong me—but in Italy—observe—we always take +these things coolly—now, sir, will you explain?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Willoughby.</i> No, sir, I will not.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> You will not?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Willoughby.</i> No, sir, and I warn you not to listen to the wild ravings +of a senseless woman—it may be better for you, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Why so, Prince Prettiman?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Willoughby.</i> No matter, sir, I will not be amused from my purpose.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> You won't, old Pluto, won't you? then, ma'am, observe! you shall +behold my mode of fighting—I'll kill him like a gentleman, and he shall +die without a groan;—you'll be delighted, ma'am—I learnt it all in +Italy.—Come, Belzebub, are you ready?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Willoughby.</i> 'Sdeath! what can I do? he is drunk, perhaps I may disarm +him.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Now, thou original sin, thou prince of darkness! come out; never +let her see thy black infernal visage more, or by my life I'll pulverize +you—you see, ma'am, no bad orator either—learnt it all in Italy.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Willoughby.</i> Come on, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Flor.</i> Ay, now old Sysiphus, push home—but fight like a gentleman, if +you can, for remember, there is a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> lady in company—observe, ma'am, +observe; you won't see it again.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>They fight.—<span class="smcap">Floriville</span> disarms +<span class="smcap">Willoughby</span>.</i>]</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> What, vanquished, Tarquin? hah! hah! [<i>Parrying up and down the +stage by himself.</i>]—You see, ma'am, you see!—Oh! Italy's your only +country!—Now, ma'am, would you have me kill him here, "in Allegro," or +postpone it, that you may have the pleasure of pinking him yourself, "in +Penseroso?"</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> [<i>Coming near <span class="smcap">Floriville</span>, and discovering him.</i>] Floriville, +my deliverer!—generous man!—No, sir, whatever are his crimes, do not +kill him; his greatest punishment will be to live.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> There, then, caitiff, take your sword, and, d'ye hear? +retire;—that black front of thine offends the lady;—if you want +another flourish, you will soon find Floriville—abscond.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Willoughby.</i> Sir, you shall hear from me—distraction!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> And now, my dear little angel, how can I assist you? I'm very +sorry that I can't help it—I'm cursed drunk, and not proper company for +a lady of your dignity,—but I won't affront you,—I mean to make myself +agreeable, and if I do not—it is the fault of that place, [<i>Pointing to +his head.</i>] and not of this, [<i>Pointing to his heart.</i>]</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Sir, your conduct has endeared you to me for ever, and while I +live, your generosity and valour shall be engraven on my heart.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Gently, gently, have a care, make no declarations; if you are in +love with me, as I suppose you are, keep it secret,—for at this moment +you might raise a flame that would consume us both;—poor creature! how +fond she is of me! any other time I would indulge her, but not +now—[<i>Looks at her sometime, then runs, and kisses her hand.</i>]—Oh, you +paragon!—"Angels must paint to look as fair as you."—[<i>Goes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> from her +again.</i>]—I'll leave you, or, by Heaven, it will be all over with us.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> No, no, don't desert me! alas! I have no way left but to +commit myself to your care—if I could bring him to recollect me, all +would be safe. Mr Floriville, don't you know me?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> No, 'would to Heaven I did.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> What, not Miss Courtney?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> What, Louisa? my brother's idol?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Alas! the very same.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Then may I die, if I don't get out of your debt before I leave +you—where—where shall I conduct you?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> I know not—return to lady Waitfor't's again, I will not—I +had rather be a wanderer all my life—to lady Walton's there is no +excuse for returning, and I know no friend in Bath I dare intrude +upon.—I have so high an opinion, Mr Floriville, of your honour, that, +notwithstanding your present situation, there is no man on earth I would +sooner confide in;—can you then think of any place where I may rest in +safety for a few hours, and then I will set out for my uncle's in the +country.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Indeed I cannot, I am a wanderer myself;—I have no home but +what this gentleman is to purchase me [<i>Taking out his purse.</i>]—you +cannot partake of that.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Oh! what will become of me?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Let me see—I have it—I'll take her to my brother's;—she'll be +safe there, and not a soul shall come near her.—Well, Miss Courtney,—I +have recollected a place where I know you'll be safe—a friend's house, +that will be as secure—nay, don't droop—in Italy we're never +melancholy.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Oh, Mr Floriville, to what a hazard has lady Waitfor't exposed +me!—to her perfidy I owe it all—but yonder's that wretch again—pray +let us begone.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span><i>Flor.</i> Belzebub again,—no, no, we mustn't stir;—what! an angel fly +from a devil? damme, I'll stay and crush him.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Nay, sir, reflect,—'twere madness to remain.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Flor.</i> 'Faith that's true; I believe it's braver to retire,—therefore, +Tarquin, adieu; come, my best angel! I'll fight your battles, and if I +don't sink all your enemies, may I never see Italy again as long as I +live!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exeunt.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Willoughby</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Willoughby.</i> Ha! gone,—I am sorry for it—I would have seen them—lady Waitfor't has +just left me, and treated me like her slave,—insulted and derided me; +but I'll have done with her for ever,—I'll be her dupe no more;—she is +now gone to Neville's lodgings, under pretence of pursuing Louisa, but, +in fact, to see him, and prevent his leaving Bath;—this I will write to +my lord, and then let him follow, and be witness of her infamy;—thus, I +hope, I shall make some reparation for the wrongs I have committed, and +prove at last I have some sense of virtue.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + + +<p class="scene">SCENE II.</p> + + +<p class="stagedir"><i><span class="smcap">Neville's</span> Lodgings—A Closet in back Scene.—Two Chairs, and a Table, +with Wine on it.—A knocking at the Door.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Peter</span>, reading a Card.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Peter.</i> <i>Vapid presents his compliments to his friend Neville; has thought of +nothing but writing the epilogue for his friend's play since they +parted; he has made great progress, and will wait on him to take his +judgment on it in a few minutes.</i> If the gentleman<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> should come soon, I +fear my master won't be at home to receive him.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Knocks.—<span class="smcap">Peter</span> opens the Door, and lets in <span class="smcap">Vapid</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Well, here it is;—where's Neville?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Peter.</i> Not within, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Yes, yes, here it is:—I must see him.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Peter.</i> Sir, he's gone out.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Gone out? impossible!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Peter.</i> Impossible! it's very true, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Gone out! why, I've brought him the epilogue—the new epilogue +to Mr What's-his-name's comedy; the very best thing I ever wrote in my +life; I knew it would delight him.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Peter.</i> Sir, he has been gone out above these two hours.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Then he'll never forgive himself as long as he lives; why, it's +all correct—all chaste! only one half line wanting at the end to make +it complete.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Peter.</i> Indeed, sir, it's very unfortunate.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Unfortunate! I wanted to have heard him read it too; when +another person reads it, one often hits on a thought that might +otherwise have escaped; then, perhaps, he would have hit on that cursed +half line, I have so long been working at.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Peter.</i> Sir, if it is not impertinent, and you'd permit me to read it—</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> You read it!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Peter.</i> Yes, sir, if you'd allow me that honour.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Vapid.</i> 'Faith, I should have no objection,—but wouldn't it lower +one's dignity? No, no, Moliere used to read his plays to his servants, +so I believe all's regular.—Come, sir, begin.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i><span class="smcap">Peter</span> reading +Epilogue.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In ancient times, when agonizing wars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bleeding nations, fill'd the world with jars;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When murder, battle, sudden death, prevail'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When——<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Vapid.</i> Stop—stop—I have it: not a word for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> your life; I feel +it—it's coming on—the last line directly—quick! quick!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i><span class="smcap">Peter</span> +reads.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The tyrant totters, and the senate nods,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Die all, die nobly!——<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Peter.</i> Here's something wanting, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Vapid.</i> I know it, say nothing—I have it—</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Walks backwards and forwards.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The tyrant totters, and the senate nods,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Die all, die nobly!——<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Oh, damn it! damn it! damn it!—that cursed half line!—I shall never +accomplish it—all so chaste—all so correct,—and to have it marr'd for +want of one half line,—one curst half line! I could almost weep for +disappointment.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Peter.</i> Never mind, sir, don't perplex yourself,—put in any thing.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Put in any thing! why, 'tis the last line, and the epilogue +must end with something striking, or it will be no trap for applause—no +trap for applause, after all this fine writing!—Put in any thing!—what +do you mean, sirrah?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Peter.</i> Methinks this is a strange epilogue to a comedy—[<i>Knock at the +door.</i>]—Perhaps this is my master—[<i>Looks out.</i>]—no, as I live, 'tis +Mr Floriville and Miss Courtney! she mustn't on any account be seen by +this gentleman.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Well, who is it?—"The tyrant totters"—</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Peter.</i> Sir, it's a friend of my master's who has brought a lady with +him—I'm sure you've too much gallantry to interrupt an amour; and, +therefore, you'll be kind enough to get out of the way directly.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Get out of the way! what the devil, in the middle of my +composition?—"Die all, die nobly"—</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Peter.</i> Nay, sir, only step for a moment into this closet, and you +shall be released,—now, pray, sir,—pray be prevailed on.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span><i>Vapid.</i> Well, let me see—in this closet! why, here's china, zounds! +would you put a live author in a china closet?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Peter.</i> What can I do, sir? there is no way out but that door—get in +here for an instant, and I'll show them into the library—now do, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Vapid.</i> Well, be brief then,—"Die all! die nobly!"—oh! oh! oh!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Enters Closet, and <span class="smcap">Floriville</span> and <span class="smcap">Louisa</span> enter.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Hey-day!—my old acquaintance, Peter! where's my brother?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Peter.</i> Sir, he has been out the whole evening.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> In the same house with Neville!—oh, Heavens!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Well, Miss Courtney, I hope now you are convinced of your +safety.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Louisa.</i> Yes, sir, but I would it were in any other place; lady +Waitfor't, ere this, is in pursuit of me, and if she discovers me here, +you know too well how much I have to dread.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Knock at the Door.—Exit +<span class="smcap">Peter</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Don't be alarm'd, there's nothing shall molest you.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Oh, sir, you don't know the endless malice of lady +Waitfor't—she will triumph in my misery, and till my lord is convinced +of her duplicity, I see no hope of your brother's happiness, or my own.</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Peter</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Peter.</i> Lady Waitfor't is below, inquiring for that lady, or my master.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> For my brother?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Peter.</i> Yes, sir, and my lord has sent to know if Mr Vapid, or her +ladyship, have been here;—he was in bed, but on receiving a letter, got +up, and will be here in an instant.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> For Heaven's sake, Mr Floriville, let me retire,—I cannot +support the conflict.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span><i>Flor.</i> Promise to recall your spirits, and you shall.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> What I can do I will.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Flor.</i> Then know no apprehension, for, on my life, you shall not be +disturbed.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Leads her to the Door of the Library, and talks in dumb show.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> [<i>From Closet.</i>] Peter! Peter! can't you release me?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Peter.</i> No, sir, don't move, you'll ruin every thing.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Then give me that candle—I have pen and ink—I think I could +finish my epilogue.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Peter.</i> Here, sir.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Giving Candle.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Vapid.</i> That curst half line—"Die all"—</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i><span class="smcap">Peter</span> shuts him in.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> So, now, the storm begins, and if I don't have some sport with +the enemy—[<i>Sits at Table, and begins drinking.</i>]—here she comes.</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Lady Waitfor't</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Chairs, Peter, chairs,—Sit down, ma'am—sit down—you honour me +exceedingly.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Where is your brother, sir? I insist on seeing him.</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Lord Scratch</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> There she is!—in a man's lodgings at midnight—here's +treatment!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> My lord, I came here in search of Louisa, who has been betrayed +from my power.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Look ye, my lady—read that letter, that's all; read that +letter, and then say, if we sha'n't both cut a figure in the print +shops.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> [<i>Taking Letter.</i>] Ha! Willoughby's hand! [<i>Reads.</i>] <i>Lady +Waitfor't, (I have only time to tell you) is gone to Neville's lodgings, +to meet one she has long had a passion for—follow her, and be convinced +of her duplicity.</i> Oh, the villain! well, my lord, and pray who is the +man I come to meet?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span><i>Lord.</i> Why, who should it be but the stage ruffian? if there was a sofa +in the room, my life on't, he'd pop from behind it.—Zounds! that fellow +will lay straw before my door every nine months!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> This is fortunate.—[<i>Aside.</i>]—Well, sir, if I discover Louisa, +I hope you'll be convinced I came here to redeem her, and not disgrace +myself. Tell me, sir, immediately, where she is concealed.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>To <span class="smcap">Floriville</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Sit down, ma'am—sit down: drink, drink, then we'll talk over +the whole affair—there is no doing business without wine; come, here's +"The glory of gallantry"—I'm sure you'll both drink that.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> No trifling, sir; tell me where she is concealed;—nay, then +I'll examine the apartment myself—[<i>Goes to Door of Library.</i>]—the +door lock'd! give me the key, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> [<i>Drinking.</i>] "The glory of gallantry, ma'am."</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Hear me, sir, if the lady's in that apartment, I shall be +convinced that you and your brother are the sole authors of all this +treachery; if she is there, by the honour of my ancestors, she shall be +Willoughby's wife to-morrow morning.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> [<i>Rising.</i>] Shall she, my lord? Pray, were you ever in Italy?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Why, coxcomb?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Because, I'm afraid you've been bitten by a tarantula—you'll +excuse me, but the symptoms are wonderfully alarming—There is a blazing +fury in your eye—a wild emotion in your countenance, and a green spot—</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Damn the green spot! open that door, and let me see immediately: +I'm a peer, and have a right to look at any thing.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> [<i>Standing before the Door.</i>] No, sir; this door must not be +open'd.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Then I'll forget my peerage, and draw my sword.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span><i>Flor.</i> [<i>To <span class="smcap">Lady Waitfor't</span>, who is going to interfere.</i>] Don't be +alarm'd, ma'am, I'll only indulge him for my own amusement—mere trout +fishing, ma'am—</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Louisa</span>, from the Apartment.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Hold! I charge you, hold!—let not my unhappy fate be the +source of more calamities.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> 'Tis she herself:—My lady did not come to meet the madman.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> By the lord, ma'am, you have ruined all.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> I know, sir, the consequences of this discovery, and I abide +by them.—But what I have done, I can justify, and 'would to Heaven all +here could do the same!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Indeed, I can't tell—I wish I was in Italy.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Mark me, madam,—nay, tears are in vain—to-morrow shall make +you the wife of Willoughby; and he shall answer for your follies.—No +reply, sir, [<i>To <span class="smcap">Floriville</span>, who is going to speak.</i>] I wou'dn't hear +the chancellor.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Now, who is to blame? Oh, virtue is ever sure to meet its +reward!—Come to meet a mad poet, indeed!—My lord, I forgive you only +on condition of your signing a contract to marry me to-morrow, and +Louisa to Willoughby, at the same time.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Lord.</i> I will, thou best of women!—draw it up immediately—and Neville +shall starve for his treachery.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i><span class="smcap">Lady Waitfor't</span> goes to the Table, and writes.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> [<i>Falling at the feet of <span class="smcap">Lord Scratch</span>.</i>] Hear me, sir, not for +myself, but for a wrong'd friend, I speak:—Mr Neville knows not of my +concealment; on my honour, he is innocent:—if that lady's wrongs must +be avenged, confine the punishment to me—I'll bear it, with patience +bear it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Let go!—let go, I say!—Lady Waitfor't, make haste with the +contract.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span><i>Lady.</i> It only waits the signature.—Now, my lord.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Look ye, uncle—she's the cause of all this mischief, and if you +are not lost——</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Lord.</i> Out of my way!—O'd—noise and nonsense!—don't fancy yourselves +in the House of Commons! we're not speaking twenty at a time. Here! give +me the pen—I'll sign directly; and now—</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>As he is going to sign, <span class="smcap">Vapid</span> breaks the China in the Closet, and +rushes out, with the Epilogue in his Hand.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> "Die all! die nobly! die like demi-gods!"—Huzza, huzza! 'tis +done! 'tis past! 'tis perfect.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Huzza!—the poet at last; "Stop him who can!"</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Confusion!—tell me, sir, immediately, what do you mean by this +new insult?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> "Die all! die nobly! die like demi-gods!"—oh, it's +glorious!—Ah, old Scratch, are you there?—Joy, joy! give me joy!—I've +done your business! the work's past!—the labour's o'er, my boy!—"think +of that, Master Brook—think of that!"</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> My lord, I am vilely treated.—I desire you'll insist on an +explanation.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Flor.</i> He can't speak, madam.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>All this time, my <span class="smcap">Lord</span> is slowly walking away.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> How! are you going to leave me, my lord?</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Vapid.</i> [<i>Taking out his Common-place Book.</i>] 'Faith this musn't be +lost!—here's something worth observing.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit <span class="smcap">Lord Scratch</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Oh, I shall burst with rage!—Mr Vapid, I desire you'll explain +how you came in that closet.—Why don't you answer me, sir?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Your pardon, ma'am, I was taking a note of the affair—and yet +I'm afraid——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> What are you afraid of, sir?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> That it has been dramatized before;—it is certainly not a new +case.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span><i>Lady.</i> Insupportable!—But I take my leave of you all!—I abandon you +for ever!—I!—oh, I shall go wild!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit in a rage.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Ay, ay, follow his lordship—virtue is ever sure to meet its +reward. Now, Mr Vapid, tell us how you came in that closet?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> 'Faith, I can't.—I believe the servant hurried me there on +your approach.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Then you didn't come to meet lady Waitfor't?</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Vapid.</i> Meet lady Waitfor't!—no, I came to read my epilogue to +Neville; and a wonderful production it is—"The tyrant totters, and the +senate nods."</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Walking about.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> To what a strange fatality of circumstances has her character +been exposed!—but vice often finds its punishment for a crime it never +committed, when it escapes for thousands it daily practises.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Well, Miss Courtney, I hope now your apprehensions are at an +end?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Yes, sir, I shall remain for the short time necessary to +prepare for my journey, and beg I may detain you no longer. I'm afraid I +have already been a great intruder.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> No, you have been the occasion of more happiness than ever I +experienced. But you won't leave Bath, till you've seen my brother?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Oh, I have been cruelly deceived, Mr Floriville! I have +injured your brother so much, that, though I wish, I almost dread to see +him.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Then I'll go in search of him,—and if I don't reconcile +you——Come, Mr Vapid, will you walk?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> With all my heart.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> [<i>Taking him by the hand.</i>] By Heaven, you are an honest fellow.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Madam, good night!—if I can be of any service to you in the +dramatic, or any other way, you may command me.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span><i>Flor.</i> Ay, I'll answer for him,—he would die to serve you.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Vapid.</i> Die to serve her! ay, "Die all!—die nobly!—die like +demi-gods!"</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exeunt.</i></p> + +<h2 class="newact"><a name="ACT_THE_FIFTH" id="ACT_THE_FIFTH"></a>ACT THE FIFTH.</h2> + + +<p class="scene">SCENE I.</p> + + +<p class="stagedir"><i><span class="smcap">Lady Waitfor't's</span> Apartment.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i><span class="smcap">Lady Waitfor't</span> discovered at her Toilette. <span class="smcap">Letty</span> waiting.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Mr Vapid not come yet, Letty?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Letty.</i> No, ma'am,—but the servant, who found him at the tavern, said +he would be here immediately.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Lady.</i> I protest, I am almost weary of them all.—[<i>Noise without.</i>] +See who's there.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i><span class="smcap">Letty</span> listens, and returns.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Letty.</i> Mr Vapid at last:—now, pray your ladyship, insist on his +explaining every thing to my lord.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Yes; but vilely as he has treated me, I must still be calm.</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i><span class="smcap">Vapid</span>, putting his head in.</i></p> + +<p>Walk in, sir, walk in.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> No, ma'am, I'd rather stay here.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> I beg you'll be seated, Mr Vapid—I have something of +consequence to impart to you.</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Vapid</span>, gently.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> I'd never have ventured but in hopes of seeing my dear +Marianne.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Indeed I will not detain you a moment.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Vapid.</i> Very well, ma'am, if that's the case——[<i>Slowly seating +himself.</i>] It's very alarming.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Aside.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Lady.</i> Letty, leave the room, and fasten the door.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit <span class="smcap">Letty</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> No, no!—don't do that, I beseech you!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> You're very much frightened, Mr Vapid;—I hope you don't suppose +I have any design against you?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> I don't know, really, ma'am—such things are perfectly +dramatic.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Well, but, to release you from your fears, I'll tell you why I +have given you this trouble—My business, Mr Vapid, was to converse with +you on the farcical affair that happened at Neville's.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Farcical!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Yes, sir, the farcical affair that happened at Mr Neville's.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Farcical?—what, my epilogue, ma'am?—I hope you don't mean to +reflect on that?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> No, sir, far from it—I have no doubt but it is a very elegant +composition.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Doubt!—here it is, read it!—the very first production of the +age! A regular climax of poetic beauty!—the last line the <i>ne plus +ultra</i> of genius.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> But, to be serious, Mr Vapid——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Why, I am serious:—and I'll tell you, lady Waitfor't, 'tis the +last line of an epilogue, and the last scene of a comedy, that always +distracts me—'tis the reconciliation of lovers—there's the +difficulty!—You find it so in real life, I dare say?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Yes.—But Mr Vapid, this affair concerns me excessively, and I +wish to know what is to be done.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span><i>Vapid.</i> I'll tell you,—write a play,—and, bad as it may possibly be, +say it's a translation from the French, and interweave a few compliments +on the English, and, my life on't, it does wonders.—Do it, and say you +had the thought from me.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Sir, do you mean to deride me?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> No.—But only be cautious in your style—women are in general +apt to indulge that pruriency and warm luxuriancy of fancy they +possess,—but do be careful—be decent—if you are not, I have done with +you.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Lady.</i> Sir, I desire you'll be more respectful.—I don't understand it +at all.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Rising.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Marianne</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Then here comes one that will explain every thing.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There's in her all that we believe of Heaven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amazing brightness, purity, and truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eternal joy, and everlasting love!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>My dear sweet little partner, I rejoice to see you!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> And, my dear sweet Mr Poet, I rejoice to see you!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Provoking!—Have I not told you a thousand times, never to break +in upon me when I am alone?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Alone, my lady! do you call Mr Vapid nobody, then?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Suppose I should,—what is that to you?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Then I have a wrong notion of your nobodies.—I always thought +them harmless, unmeaning things; but Mr Vapid's not so very harmless +either—are you, Mr Vapid?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Indeed, ma'am, I am not.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> There now,—I told you so.—Upon my word, you rely too much on +your time of life,—you do indeed. You think, because you're a little +the worse<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> for wear, you may trust yourself any where,—but you're +mistaken—you're not near so bad as you imagine—nay, I don't flatter, +do I, Mr Vapid?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Indeed, ma'am, you do not.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Look ye, miss,—your insolence is not to be borne—you have been +the chief cause of all my perplexities.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Nay, aunt, don't say that.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> No matter,—your behaviour is shameless, and it is high time I +exerted the authority of a relation—you are a disgrace to me—to +yourself, and your friends—therefore, I am determined to put into +execution a scheme I have long thought of.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> What is it? something pleasant I hope.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> No, you shall retire to a convent, till you take possession of +your fortune.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> A convent! Oh lord! I can't make up my mind to it, now don't, +pray don't think of it—I declare it's quite shocking.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> It is a far better place than you deserve; my resolution is +fixed, and we shall see whether a life of solitude and austerity will +not awaken some sense of shame in you.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Mari.</i> Indeed, I can't bear the thoughts of it.—Oh do speak to her, Mr +Vapid—tell her about the nasty monks, now do,—a convent! mercy! what a +check to the passions! Oh! I can't bear it.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Weeping.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Gad, here's a sudden touch of tragedy—pray, Lady Waitfor't, +reflect—you can't send a lady to a convent when the theatres are open.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> It will be the death of me! pray, my dear aunt——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Not a word—I am determined—to-morrow you shall leave this +country, and then I have done with you for ever.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Oh! my poor heart! Oh, oh!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span><i>Vapid.</i> See! she'll faint!</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Mari.</i> Oh! oh! oh!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i><span class="smcap">Marianne</span> faints in <span class="smcap">Lady Waitfor't's</span> Arms.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Oh! I have gone too far, Mr Vapid!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> I fly, I'll call the servants. Have you got any drops?</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Lady.</i> I have some drops in this closet may recover her—hold her a +moment, and for heaven's sake take care of her.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i><span class="smcap">Marianne</span> lays in <span class="smcap">Vapid's</span> Arms.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Here's a situation!—Poor girl!—how I pity her! I really loved her.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Did you really love me, Mr Vapid?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Hey-day! recovered!—here's incident!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> But did you really love me, Mr Vapid?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Yes I did,—here's stage effect!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> And would you have really run away with me, Mr Vapid?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Yes, I really would.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Then come along this moment.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Hush!—here's the old lady! keep dying, as before, and we'll +effect the business—more equivoque!</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Lady Waitfor't</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Well, Mr Vapid, how does she do? lord! she's in strong +convulsions.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Yes, ma'am, she's dying; where are the drops?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Here, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> There are very few—are there any more of the same kind?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lady.</i> Yes, plenty.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Fetch them,—'tis the only hope—if you have any hartshorn too, +bring a little of that.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Lady.</i> I'm quite shocked!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Well, Mr Vapid, now let's run away—come—why what are you +thinking of?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span><i>Vapid.</i> My last act, and I fear—</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> What do you fear?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> That it can't be managed—let me see—we certainly run away, +and she returns—'faith, I must see her return.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> No, no, pray let us begone, think of this another time.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> So I will—it will do for the fourth, though not for the fifth +act,—therefore, my dear little girl, come away, and we'll live and die +together.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Die together!</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Vapid.</i> Ay, "Die all! die nobly! die like demi-gods!"</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exeunt.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Lady Waitfor't</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Lady.</i> Here, Mr Vapid—here are the drops!—What, gone!—ruined by a +writer of epilogues!—Oh! I shall burst with disappointment!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + + +<p class="scene">SCENE II.</p> + + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Another Apartment in <span class="smcap">Neville's</span> House—In the back Scene, Glass Doors, +with Curtains.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Louisa Courtney</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Still in the same house, yet still afraid to meet him! Oh, +Neville! my superior in every thing; how can I hope for your +forgiveness? while you revealed an affection it had done you credit to +deny, I concealed a passion I might have been proud to confess.</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Vapid</span> and <span class="smcap">Marianne</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Oh! Miss Courtney! my sweet Miss Courtney! Mr Vapid, here, has +run away with me, and I am so frightened for fear of Lady Waitfor't.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span><i>Louisa.</i> Yes, she may well alarm you,—she has destroyed my peace for +ever! but have you seen Mr Neville? yet, why do I ask!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Seen Mr Neville!—What, doesn't he yet know you are in his +lodgings?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> No, and I hope never will—the moment his brother returns, I +shall set out for my uncle's, and perhaps never see him more.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> And why not see him, ma'am?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Because I cannot bear the sight of one I have so injured.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> This'll do—mutual equivoque! equal misunderstanding! my own +case exactly!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Your own case! Lord! you base man, have you got a young lady in +your lodgings?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Ridiculous! don't talk about young ladies at such an awful—the +very situation in my comedy! the last scene to a syllable!—here's an +opportunity of improving the denouement!</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Peter</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Peter.</i> Ma'am, my master is returned—the occasion of his delay has +been a long interview with Mr Willoughby,—he doesn't know you are here.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Marianne, excuse me—you'll be safe from Lady Waitfor't +here—indeed I'm very ill.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Nay—where are you going?</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Louisa.</i> Alas! any where to avoid him—farewell! and may you enjoy that +happiness I have for ever lost!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Poor dear girl! I mustn't leave her thus—Mr Vapid, we won't run +away till something is done for her.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Go,—there's a good girl—follow her, and comfort her.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Mari.</i> I will—Lord! if they must be happy in being friends again, what +must I be who make them so!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span><i>Vapid.</i> The picture before me! all from nature,—I must heighten his +distress, for contrast is every thing—Peter, not a word for your life.</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Neville</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Nev.</i> Vapid, I am glad to see you—any letter from my brother?</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>To <span class="smcap">Peter</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Peter.</i> None, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> Nor message?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Peter.</i> No, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Nev.</i> Then I need doubt no longer—'tis evident he avoids me—cruel, +ungenerous Floriville!—</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Seats himself.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> [<i>Leaning over his Chair.</i>] Miss Courtney will never see you +again.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> I know it—too well I know it—that, and that alone, makes me +determined to leave this country for ever.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> You are unhappy then?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> Completely so.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Then stop.—[<i>Sits by him.</i>] She was an angel, Harry.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> Ay, a divinity!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> And then to lose her!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> [<i>Rising.</i>] 'Sdeath!—don't torment me!—my griefs are already +beyond bearing.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> It will do—he's as unhappy as I could wish.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Peter.</i> I can hold no longer—sir!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Hush!—you d—d dog, you'll ruin the catastrophe.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Peter.</i> I don't care—I'll tell him every thing—sir!—Mr Neville!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> You villain!—Do you ever go to a play?—did you ever sit in +the gallery?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Peter.</i> Yes, sir, sometimes.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Then know this is all for your good——you'll applaud it some +day or other, you dog—curse it,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> won't he have happiness enough bye and +bye?—-What—you are going abroad, Neville?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> Yes, for ever.—Farewell, Vapid.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Farewell, Neville—good night——Now for the effect!—Miss +Courtney is in the next room.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> What!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Miss Courtney is in the next room.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> Louisa! is it possible?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> There's light and shade!—Yes, your brother brought her here, +and she expects him to return every moment.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> My brother! then 'tis he means to marry her—nay, perhaps they +are already married—Heavens! I shall go wild!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Don't, don't go wild—that will ruin the denouement.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> No matter—I am resolved—I'll bid her farewell for ever—Vapid, +'tis the last favour I shall ask of you—give her this, [<i>A Letter.</i>] +and tell her, since I have resented Willoughby's attack on her honour, I +think I may be allowed to vindicate my own; tell her, great as have been +my faults, my truth has still been greater, and wherever I wander—</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Here's a flourish, now!—why you misunderstand—she is not +married, nor going to be married.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> Come, this is no time for raillery.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Raillery!—why, I'm serious—serious as the fifth act—she is +now weeping on your account.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> Pr'ythee leave fooling, it will produce no effect, believe me.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Won't it? it will produce a very great effect though, believe +me. Zounds! go to her—preserve the unity of action,—marry her +directly, and if the catastrophe does not conclude with spirit, damn my +comedy—damn my comedy—that's all, damn my comedy.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span><i>Nev.</i> 'Would to Heaven you were in earnest!</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Vapid.</i> Earnest! why there it is now! the women, dear creatures, are +always ready enough to produce effect—but the men are so curst +undramatic.—Go to her, I tell you, go to her.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit <span class="smcap">Neville</span>.—<span class="smcap">Vapid</span> stands aside.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Lord Scratch</span> and <span class="smcap">Floriville</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> That curst dramatic maniac,—if I see him again——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> My dear uncle, consent to Harry's marriage, and depend on it he +shall trouble you no more.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> I tell you again, sir, I will not.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Will you give any hopes of future consent?</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Lord.</i> By the word of a peer, I will not.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i><span class="smcap">Vapid</span>, coming forward, touching <span class="smcap">Lord Scratch</span> on the Shoulder, and +writing in common-place book.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Master Brook, let me persuade you.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Flames and firebrands, the fiend again!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Give consent, and I'll give Neville a fortune—he shall have +the entire profit of the different plays in which I intend to have the +honour of introducing yourself and the old Lady Hurlothrumbo.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Oh, that I was not a peer! if I was any thing else—but, thank +Heaven, Louisa is more averse to the match than myself.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Is she?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Yes, she knows his falsehood, and despises him.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> What, you are confident of it?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Out of my way, sir,—I'll not answer you,—I'll go take her to +town directly.—Out of my way, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Stop—you're wrong, Master Brook—she's in that room.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Where?—behind me?</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span><i>Vapid.</i> Yes—there—there! [<i>Pointing.</i>] Now for it!—what an effect!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i><span class="smcap">Lord S.</span> opens the Glass Doors, and discovers <span class="smcap">Neville</span> kneeling to +<span class="smcap">Louisa</span>. <span class="smcap">Marianne</span> with them.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> There, Peter! there's catastrophe!—Shakspeare's invention +nothing!—Applaud it, you dog—clap, clap, Peter, clap!</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Lord.</i> What are you at, you impudent rascal?—get out of the room.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Exit <span class="smcap">Peter</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> I should set this down—I may forget.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Lord! he has a very bad memory,—I hope he won't forget our +marriage.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> Oh! Louisa, what am I to think?</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Louisa.</i> That I have wronged thee, Neville!</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Embracing.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> My dear Harry, let this be my apology for not having seen you +before. [<i>Giving him a Paper.</i>] Miss Courtney, ten thousand joys;—could +I have found my brother, you should have seen him sooner.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Nev.</i> Why, here is a deed of gift of half your estate!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> I know it, but say nothing. When you gave me money, five years +ago, did I say any thing?—no, I forgot it as soon as it was over; and +should never have recollected, at this moment, but for my lord's +inhumanity.—Uncle, I thank you,—you have made me the happiest man +alive.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Don't perplex me;—what a compound of folly and generosity!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Uncle-in-law, what are your feelings on this occasion?—as my +aunt says.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Feelings!—I never knew a peer had any.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Didn't you?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> No; but now I find the contrary: I begin to think I've a heart +like other men. It's better to atone for an error, than persist in +one—therefore give me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> that deed, Neville——there, sir, [<i>Giving it to +<span class="smcap">Floriville</span>.</i>] do you think nobody has estates but yourself?—Louisa and +her fortune are your own, Neville; and after my death, you shall have +all mine:—and now there's a cursed burden off my mind.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Now, you're a dear creature! and I won't marry,—that's what I +won't, without consulting you.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> You marry! why, who should you marry?—And pray, how came you +here?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> A gentleman run away with me;—he is now in the room.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> In the room! what, Floriville?</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Mari.</i> No, behind you.</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i>Pointing to <span class="smcap">Vapid</span>, who is writing at a Table.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Ghosts and spectres! my evil genius!</p> + +<p class="dialogue2"><i>Mari.</i> Come, my dear, haven't you almost finished?</p> + +<p class="stagedir2">[<i><span class="smcap">Vapid</span> rises.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Yes, the denouement is complete, and now, Mrs Vapid, I resign +myself to love and you.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Come, give consent, my lord,—my husband will get money, though +I have none.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> None!—I dare say he can tell you, you will have twelve thousand +pounds in less than a year.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> That's a new incident!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Shall I? then 'faith, Mr Vapid, we'll build a theatre of our +own! you shall write plays, and I'll act them.</p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Ennui</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> I've an idea—I give you joy, Neville.—I mean to kill time, by +living single; and, therefore, I hope, the lady and the borough may be +yours.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Mari.</i> Mr Ennui, I hope you'll forgive me, and Sir Harry Hustle, the +fatigue we occasioned you?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> Yaw, aw—don't mention it.—The very recollection makes me +faint.—In fact—my lord, I just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> met one of Lady Waitfor't's servants, +who tells me she has left Bath in a rage.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> I am afraid she has escaped too easily.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Oh, never think of her! I can answer for her punishment being +adequate to her crimes—Willoughby has told me all her schemes,—and if +ever I hear her name again, may I lose my peerage, and dress like a +gentleman.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> My lord—I've an idea—</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Sir, I beg your pardon; but really, if you have an idea, I will +trouble you to spare it me for my comedy.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Ennui.</i> In fact—I don't comprehend. I have read your "die-all" +epilogue, and—</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Vapid.</i> Oh, then I don't wonder at your having ideas!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Lord.</i> Oh, poor fellow! he's always talking about what he never +has.—Neville, my boy, may you be as happy as I am.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Flor.</i> Ay, I'll answer for his happiness by my own.—Miss Courtney, +notwithstanding my brother, I will "still live in your eye,—die in your +lap—and be buried in your heart:" and, moreover, I will stay with you +both in England.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>Louisa.</i> Yes, Floriville, if you would behold pure, unsullied love, +never travel out of this country. Depend on't,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No foreign climes such high examples prove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of wedded pleasure, or connubial love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long in this land have joys domestic grown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nursed in the cottage—cherish'd on the throne.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p class="theend">THE END.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p class="center">ORIGINAL OCTAVO EDITIONS OF PLAYS, &c.<br /> +<span class="subhead">PRINTED FOR</span><br /> +LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN.</p> + +<p class="advertheader">By GEORGE COLMAN, the Younger.</p> + +<div class="advertlist"> +<span class="advertitem">The Mountaineers, 2s 6d<br /></span> +<span class="advertitem">Inkle and Yarico, 2s 6d<br /></span> +<span class="advertitem">Poor Gentleman, 2s 6d<br /></span> +<span class="advertitem">Who wants a Guinea? 2s 6d<br /></span> +<span class="advertitem">John Bull, a Comedy, 2s 6d<br /></span> +<span class="advertitem">Ways and Means, 2s<br /></span> +</div> + +<p class="advertheader">By RICHARD CUMBERLAND, Esq.</p> + +<div class="advertlist"> +<span class="advertitem">The Jew, a Comedy, 2s 6d<br /></span> +West Indian, 2s 6d.<br /> +<span class="advertitem">Wheel of Fortune, 2s 6d<br /></span> +<span class="advertitem">First Love, a Comedy, 2s 6d<br /></span> +<span class="advertitem">False Impressions, 2s 6d<br /></span> +<span class="advertitem">Mysterious Husband, 2s 6d<br /></span> +</div> + +<p class="advertheader">By THOMAS DIBDIN, Esq.</p> + +<div class="advertlist"> +<span class="advertitem">School for Prejudice, 2s 6d<br /></span> +<span class="advertitem">Il Bondocani; or, the Caliph Robber, 1s 6d<br /></span> +<span class="advertitem">St David's Day, 1s 6d<br /></span> +<span class="advertitem">The Birth Day, a Comedy, from Kotzebue, 2s<br /></span> +<span class="advertitem">The Jew and the Doctor, a Farce, 1s 6d<br /></span> +<span class="advertitem">The Cabinet, 2s 6d<br /></span> +<span class="advertitem">The English Fleet, in 1342; an Historical Comic Opera, 2s 6d<br /></span> +<span class="advertitem">The Will for the Deed, a Comedy, 2s<br /></span> +<span class="advertitem">Family Quarrels, 2s 6d<br /></span> +</div> + +<p class="advertheader">By Mrs INCHBALD.</p> + +<div class="advertlist"> +<span class="advertitem">Lovers' Vows, a Play, 2s 6d<br /></span> +<span class="advertitem">Every one has his Fault, a Comedy, 2s 6d<br /></span> +<span class="advertitem">To Marry, or not to Marry, a Comedy, 2s 6d<br /></span> +<span class="advertitem">Wives as they Were, 2s 6d<br /></span> +<span class="advertitem">Such Things are, 2s 6d<br /></span> +<span class="advertitem">Child of Nature, 2s<br /></span> +<span class="advertitem">Wedding Day, a Comedy, in two Acts, 1s 6d<br /></span> +</div> + +<p class="advertheader">Revised by J. 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For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL">http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL</a> + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** +</pre> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/31374-h/images/dramatist.jpg b/31374-h/images/dramatist.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6393d32 --- /dev/null +++ b/31374-h/images/dramatist.jpg diff --git a/31374.txt b/31374.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8418622 --- /dev/null +++ b/31374.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3361 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Dramatist; or Stop Him Who Can!, by +Frederick Reynolds + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Dramatist; or Stop Him Who Can! + A Comedy, in Five Acts + + +Author: Frederick Reynolds + + + +Release Date: February 23, 2010 [eBook #31374] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DRAMATIST; OR STOP HIM WHO +CAN!*** + + +E-text prepared by Steven desJardins and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 31374-h.htm or 31374-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/31374/31374-h/31374-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/31374/31374-h.zip) + + + + + +THE DRAMATIST; +OR, +STOP HIM WHO CAN! + +A Comedy, in Five Acts; + +by + +FREDERICK REYNOLDS. + +As Performed at the +Theatre Royal, Covent Garden. + +Printed Under the Authority of the Managers +from the Prompt Book. + +With Remarks by Mrs Inchbald. + + + + + + + +[Illustration: DRAMATIST + +VAPID--PROLOGUE OR EPILOGUE! I'M YOUR MAN:--I'LL WRITE YOU BOTH. + +ACT II. SCENE II + +PAINTED BY SINGLETON. PUBLISHD BY LONGMAN & CO. ENGRAVD BY ENGLEHEART.] + + + +London: +Printed for Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, +Paternoster Row. + +Edinburgh: +Printed by James Ballantyne and Co. + + + + +REMARKS. + + +Plays of former times were written to be read, not seen. Dramatic +authors succeeded in their aim; their works were placed in libraries, +and the theatres were deserted.--Now, plays are written to be seen, not +read--and present authors gain their views; for they and the managers +are enriched, and the theatres crowded. + +To be both seen and read at the present day, is a degree of honour, +which, perhaps, not one comic dramatist can wholly boast, except +Shakspeare. Exclusive of his, scarcely any of the very best comedies of +the best of former bards will now attract an audience: yet the genius of +ancient writers was assisted by various tales, for plots, of which they +have deprived the moderns; they had, besides, the privilege to write +without either political or moral restraint. Uncurbed by law or +delicacy, they wrote at random; and at random wrote some pages worthy +posterity--but along with these, they produced others, which disgrace +the age that reprints and circulates them. + +It might be deemed suspicious to insinuate, that those persons, perhaps, +who so vehemently exclaim against modern dramas, give up with reluctance +the old prerogative of listening to wit and repartee, which would make +the refined hearer of the present day blush, and the moral auditor +shudder. + +To those who can wisely bear with the faults of their own time, nor +think all that is good is gone by, the representation of the present +comedy will give high entertainment; particularly in those scenes in +which Vapid is concerned.--Reynolds could hardly mistake drawing a +faithful portrait of this character, for it is said--he sat for himself. + +Yet those, who expect to be highly delighted with "The Dramatist," must +bring with them to the theatre a proper acquaintance with the stage, and +also of its power over certain of its votaries. + +If attraction, if bursts of applause, and still less equivocal +approbation, bursts of laughter, constitute perfect success to a comic +writer, Mr Reynolds, in this, as well as in other of his comedies, has +been preeminently successful. + +In this comedy, however, and, perhaps, in one or two more he has +written, there is an obstacle to his independent merit as an author--an +obstacle which too many dramatic writers willingly place in their path +to lasting reputation. He has written for one particular actor to +support his play--Lewis--more worthy to be thus considered than almost +any other performer: but here his very skill gives the alarm--for Lewis +possesses such unaffected spirit on the stage, a kind of vivid fire, +which tempers burlesque with nature, or nature with burlesque, so +happily, that it cannot be hoped any other man will easily support those +characters written purposely for him. + +Be that as it may--when Reynolds can no more enliven a theatre by his +Dramatist, this comedy will grow dull in excellent company--for +Congreve's "Way of the World" was hissed, it is said, from a London +stage, the last time it was acted, for insipidity. + + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE. + +LORD SCRATCH _Mr Quick._ +HARRY NEVILLE _Mr Holman._ +FLORIVILLE _Mr Blanchard._ +WILLOUGHBY _Mr Macready._ +ENNUI _Mr Munden._ +PETER _Mr Thompson._ +VAPID _Mr Lewis._ +SERVANT _Mr Evatt._ + +LOUISA COURTNEY _Miss Brunton._ +LADY WAITFOR'T _Mrs Webb._ +LETTY _Miss Brangin._ +MARIANNE _Mrs Wells._ + +_SCENE,--Bath._ + + + + +THE DRAMATIST. + + +ACT THE FIRST. + + +SCENE I. + + + _The Grove.--LADY WAITFOR'T'S House._ + + _Enter MARIANNE, and LETTY, from the House._ + +_Mari._ But I tell you I will come out--I didn't come to Bath to be +confined, nor I won't--I hate all their company, but sweet Miss +Courtney's. + +_Letty._ I declare, Miss Marianne, you grow worse and worse every day, +your country manners will be the ruin of you. + +_Mari._ Don't you talk about that, Letty--It was a shame to bring me up +in the country--if I had been properly taken care of, I might have done +great things--I might have married the poet I danced with at the +ball--But it's all over now.--I shall never get a husband, and, what's +worse, my aunt did it on purpose.--She ruined me, Letty, that nobody +else might. + +_Letty._ How you talk!--I hope Miss Courtney hasn't taught you all this? + +_Mari._ No,--she's a dear creature,--she has taught me many things; but +nothing improper, I'm sure. + +_Letty._ Pray, has she taught you why she never plays any tune but the +one we heard just now? + +_Mari._ Yes--and if you'll keep it a secret, I'll tell you, Letty; Mr +Harry Neville taught it her last summer,--and now she is always playing +it, because it puts her in mind of the dear man;--when it is ended, +don't you observe how she sighs from the bottom of her dear little +heart? + +_Letty._ Why, I thought they had quarrelled? + +_Mari._ So they have--she won't see him, and I believe my aunt, Lady +Waitfor't, has been the occasion of it;--poor Mr Neville!--I wish I +could assist him, for indeed, Letty, I always pity any body that is +crossed in love--it may be one's own case one day or other, you know. + +_Letty._ True--and for the same reason, I suppose, you rejoice when it +is successful.--I'm sure now the intended marriage of Lady Waitfor't and +Lord Scratch gives you great pleasure. + +_Mari._ What! the country gentleman who has lately come to his title? +No, if you'll believe me, I don't like him at all,--he's a sour old +fellow--is always abusing our sex, and thinks there is only one good +woman under heaven:--now, I'm sure that's a mistake, for I know I'm a +good woman, and I think, Letty, you are another. + +_Letty._ Yes,--I hope so, though I confess I think your aunt is better +than either of us. + +_Mari._ More shame for you--she is a woman of sentiment, and hums you +over with her flourishes about purity, and feelings.--Feelings!--'faith, +she ought to be ashamed of herself--no other woman would talk in that +manner. + +_Letty._ You mistake her--she is a woman of virtue, and can't help +feeling for the vices and misfortunes of others. + +_Mari._ Then why can't she do as I have done, Letty? keep her feelings +to herself--If I had given way to them half so much as she has--Oh Lord! +I don't know what might have been the consequence. + +_Letty._ For shame! You never hear Lady Waitfor't speak ill of any body. + +_Mari._ No,--How should she, when she talks of nobody but herself? + +_Letty._ Well, your opinion is of little weight; my Lord sees her merit, +and is come to Bath on purpose to marry her--he thinks her a prodigy of +goodness. + +_Mari._ Then, pray let him have her--every fool knows so, to be sure he +does, Letty, that a prodigy of goodness is a very rare thing;--but when +he finds her out!--'faith, it will be a rare joke, when he finds her +out. + +_Letty._ Shameful, Miss Marianne! do speak a little intelligibly, and +remember your aunt's favourite observation. + +_Mari._ What is it?--I have forgot. + +_Letty._ That good sentiments are always plain. + +_Mari._ Yes,--so are good women,--bid her remember that, Letty. + +_Letty._ Hush:--say no more--here she comes, and Mr Willoughby with her. + +_Mari._ Ay--that man is always with her of late--but come, Letty, let's +get out of their way--let's take a walk, and look at the beaux. + +_Letty._ The beaux! ah, I see you long to become a woman of fashion. + +_Mari._ No--though I hate the country, I never will become a woman of +fashion--I know too well what it is to do many things one don't like, +and 'faith, while there is such real pleasure in following my own +inclinations, I see no reason why, merely out of fashion, I should be +obliged to copy other people's. [_Exit, with LETTY._ + + _Enter LADY WAITFOR'T and WILLOUGHBY._ + +_Lady._ [_To SERVANT._] When my lord returns, tell him I'm gone to Lady +Walton's, and shall be back immediately. + +_Will._ Then your ladyship is certain Harry Neville is arrived. + +_Lady._ Yes--the ungrateful man arrived last night, and, as I yet mean +to consult his happiness, I have written to him to come to me this +evening--but I will ever oppose his union with my lord's ward, Louisa +Courtney, because I think it will be the ruin of them both; and you +know, Willoughby, one cannot forget one's feelings on those occasions. + +_Will._ Certainly--Ennui, the time-killer, whose only business in life +is to murder the hour, is also just arrived; and my lord is resolved on +his marrying Louisa instantly. + +_Lady._ True--and only because he'll make a quiet member for his brother +in the west. But, for various reasons, I am determined she shall be +yours--yet it must be done artfully--my circumstances are deranged, and +an alliance with my lord Scratch is the only hope of relief.--Such are +the fruits of virtue, Willoughby. + +_Will._ Well--but her fortune is entirely dependent on my Lord's +consent, and how is that to be obtained? You know I am no favourite, and +Ennui is a great one. + +_Lady._ I know it, and therefore we must incense him against Ennui--let +me see----can't we contrive some mode,--some little ingenious story--he +is a singular character, you know, and has violent prejudices. + +_Will._ True--and of all his prejudices, none is so violent, or +entertaining, as that against authors and actors. + +_Lady._ Yes,--the stage is his aversion, and some way or other----I have +it--it's an odd thought, but may do much--suppose we tell him Ennui has +written a play. + +_Will._ The luckiest thought in the world! it will make him hate him +directly. + +_Lady._ Well, leave it to me--I'll explain the matter to him +myself,--and my life on't it proves successful. You see, Willoughby, my +only system is to promote happiness. + +_Will._ It is indeed, Lady Waitfor't--but if this fails, may I still +hope for your interest with Miss Courtney? + +_Lady._ Yes,--I'm determined she shall be yours, and neither Neville's +nor Ennui's.--But come, it's late--here he is. + +_Will._ We'll get rid of him. + + _Enter ENNUI._ + +_Lady._ Mr Ennui, your most obedient--we are going to the Parade--have +you seen your cousin Neville? + +_Ennui._ I've an idea--I've just left him. + +_Lady._ I suppose we shall see you at Lady Walton's this evening?--till +then, adieu. [_Exeunt LADY WAITFOR'T and WILLOUGHBY._ + +_Ennui._ I've an idea, I don't like this Lady Waitfor't--she wishes to +trick me out of my match with Miss Courtney, and if I could trick her in +return--[_Takes out his Watch._] How goes the enemy?--only one +o'clock!--I thought it had been that an hour ago!--heigho!--here's my +patron, Lord Scratch. + + _Enter LORD SCRATCH._ + +_Lord._ What a wonderful virtue is the art of hearing!--may I die, if a +listener be found any where:--Zounds! am not I a peer, and don't I talk +by prerogative?--and, if I mayn't talk ten times as much as another +person, what's the use of my peerage? + +_Ennui._ I've an idea--I don't comprehend you. + +_Lord._ That fellow Neville wouldn't hear a word I had to +say:--abandoned young dog!--he's come to Bath to invent tales against +that divinity, Lady Waitfor't, again, I suppose--but my ward, Louisa, +shall be put out of his power for ever--she shall marry you to-morrow. + +_Ennui._ In fact--I always forgot to give your lordship joy of your +title, though not of your dress. + +_Lord._ Not of my dress!--ay, ay;--that's the difference--you poor +devils, in humble life, are obliged to dress well, to look like +gentlemen--we peers may dress as we please--[_Looking at his watch._] +but I shall lose my appointments--past two o'clock. + +_Ennui._ Past two o'clock!--delightful! + +_Lord._ Delightful!--what, at your old tricks? + +_Ennui._ I'd an idea--it had been only one. + +_Lord._ And you're delighted because it's an hour later? + +_Ennui._ To be sure I am--my dear friend, to be sure I am--the enemy has +lost a limb. + +_Lord._ So you're happy, because you're an hour nearer the other +world?--tell me now,--do you wish to die? + +_Ennui._ No.--But I wish somebody would invent a new mode of killing +time--in fact, I think I've found one--private acting. + +_Lord._ Acting!--never talk to me about the stage--I detest a theatre, +and every thing that belongs to it: and if ever--but no matter--I must +to Lady Waitfor't, and prevail on her to marry me at the same time you +marry my ward.--But, remember our agreement--you are to settle your +estate on Louisa, and I am to bring you into parliament. + +_Ennui._ In fact, I comprehend--I am to be a hearer and not a speaker. + +_Lord._ Speaker!--if you open your mouth, the Chiltern Hundreds is your +portion.--Look ye--you are to be led quietly to the right side--to sleep +during the debate--give a nod for your vote,--and in every respect, move +like a mandarin, at my command;--in short, you are to be a mandarin +member.--So, fare you well till we're both married. [_Exit._ + +_Ennui._ I've an idea, here's Neville.--In fact--he knows nothing of my +marrying Louisa, nor shall he, till after the happy day.--Strange news, +Neville. + + _Enter NEVILLE._ + +_Nev._ I've heard it all. Louisa is going to be married; but to whom I +know not,--and my Lord persists in his fatal attachment to Lady +Waitfor't. + +_Ennui._ In fact--Why fatal? + +_Nev._ Because it is the source of every mischief.--While she maintains +her power over him, I have no hope of love or fortune:--When my father +died, he left his estate to my brother, relying on my lord providing for +me--and now, how he deserts me!--and all owing to the artifices of an +insidious woman. + +_Ennui._ I've an idea, I comprehend her motive--she loves you. + +_Nev._ Yes, 'tis too plain--and, because I would not listen to her +advances, she has ruined me in my uncle's opinion, and degraded me in +Louisa's;--but I will see Miss Courtney herself--I will hear my doom +from her own mouth; and if she avoids me, I will leave her, and this +country, for ever. + + _Enter PETER._ + +_Peter._ A letter, sir. + +_Nev._ Without direction!--What can it mean? + +_Peter._ Sir, 'tis from Lady Waitfor't.--The servant, who brought it, +said, her ladyship had reasons for not directing it, which she would +explain to you when she saw you. [_Exit._ + +_Nev._ Oh, the old stratagem:--as it is not directed, she may swear it +was designed for another person. [_Reads._ + + _Sir_, + + _I have heard of your arrival at Bath, and, strange as + my conduct may appear, I think it a duty I owe to the + virtuous part of mankind, to promote their happiness as + much as I can; I have long beheld your merit, and long + wished to encourage it.--I shall be at home at six this + evening. Yours,_ + + A. WAITFOR'T. + +_Ennui._ In fact--a very sentimental assignation, that would do as well +for any other man. + +_Nev._ If I show it to my lord, I know his bigotry is such, that he +would, as usual, only suppose it a trick of my own--the more cause there +is to condemn, the more he approves. + +_Ennui._ I've an idea, he's incomprehensible.--In fact--who have we +here? + +_Nev._ As I live, Vapid, the dramatic author--he is come to Bath to pick +up characters, I suppose. + +_Ennui._ In fact--pick up! + +_Nev._ Yes--he has the ardor scribendi upon him so strong, that he would +rather you'd ask him to write an epilogue to a new play, than offer him +your whole estate--the theatre is his world, in which are included all +his hopes and wishes.--In short, he is a dramatic maniac. And to such an +extent does he carry his folly, that if he were not the best natured +fellow in the world, every body would kick him out of doors. + +_Ennui._ Has he not a share of vanity in his composition? + +_Nev._ Oh yes--he fancies himself a great favourite with the women. + +_Ennui._ Then I've an idea--I've got a thought, by which you may revenge +yourself on Lady Waitfor't--in fact--give him the letter--he'll +certainly believe 'tis meant for himself. + +_Nev._ My dear friend, ten thousand thanks!--We'll flatter his vanity, +by persuading him she is young and beautiful, and my life on't it does +wonders;--but, hush, he comes. + + _Enter VAPID._ + +_Nev._ Vapid! I rejoice to see you,--'tis a long time since we met; give +me leave to introduce you to a particular friend of mine--Mr Ennui--Mr +Vapid. + +_Ennui._ I've an idea--you do me honour--Mr Vapid, I shall be proud to +be better acquainted with you--in fact--any thing of consequence +stirring in the fashionable or political world? + +_Vapid._ Some whispers about a new pantomime, sir,--nothing else. + +_Nev._ And I'm afraid, in the present scarcity of good writers, we have +little else to expect.--Pray, Vapid, how is the present dearth of genius +to be accounted for; particularly dramatic genius? + +_Vapid._ Why, as to dramatic genius, sir, the fact is this--to give a +true picture of life, a man should enter into all its scenes,--should +follow nature, sir--but modern authors plunder from one another--the +mere shades of shadows.--Now, sir, for my part, I dive into the world--I +search the heart of man;--'tis true I'm called a rake--but, upon my +soul, I only game, drink, and intrigue, that I may be better able to +dramatize each particular scene. + +_Nev._ A good excuse for profligacy.--But tell me, Vapid, have you got +any new characters since you came to Bath? + +_Vapid._ 'Faith, only two--and those not very new either. + +_Ennui._ In fact--may we ask what they are? + +_Vapid._ If you don't write. + +_Nev._ No, we certainly do not. + +_Vapid._ Then I'll tell you:--The first is a charitable divine, who, in +the weighty consideration how he shall best lavish his generosity, never +bestows it at all:--and the other is a cautious apothecary, who, in +determining which of two medicines is best for his patient, lets him die +for want of assistance.--You understand me, I think, this last will do +something, eh? + +_Ennui._ I've an idea--the apothecary would cut a good figure in a +comedy. + +_Vapid._ A comedy! pshaw! I mean him for a tragedy. + +_Ennui._ In fact--I don't comprehend, nor, possibly, the town. + +_Vapid._ I know it--that's the very thing--hark ye, I've found out a +secret--what every body understands, nobody approves; and people always +applaud most where they least comprehend.--There is a refinement, sir, +in appearing to understand things incomprehensible--else whence arises +the pleasure at an opera, a private play, or a speech in parliament? +why, 'tis the mystery in all these things--'tis the desire to find out +what nobody else can--to be thought wiser than others--therefore--you +take me--the apothecary is the hero of my tragedy. + +_Nev._ 'Faith, there is some reason in all this--and I'm amazed we have +so many writers for the stage. + +_Vapid._ So am I--and I think I'll write no more for an ungrateful +public--you don't know any body that has a play coming out, do you? + +_Nev._ No--why do you ask? + +_Vapid._ He'll want an epilogue you know, that's all. + +_Nev._ Why, you won't write him one, will you? + +_Vapid._ I! oh Lord! no;--but genius ought to be encouraged, and as he's +a friend of yours,--what's the name of the play? + +_Nev._ I really don't know any body that has written one. + +_Vapid._ Yes----yes----you do. + +_Nev._ Upon my word, I do not--a cousin of mine, indeed, wrote one for +his amusement, but I don't think he could ever be prevailed on to +produce it on the stage. + +_Vapid._ He prevailed on!--the manager you mean--but what did you think +of it? + +_Nev._ I never read it, but am told it is a good play--and if performed, +Vapid, he will be proud of your assistance. + +_Vapid._ I speak in time, because it is material--many a dull play has +been saved by a good epilogue. + +_Nev._ True--but I had almost forgot.--Why, Vapid, the lady in the Grove +will enlarge your knowledge amazingly. + +_Ennui._ I've an idea--she's the pattern of perfection. + +_Nev._ The paragon of beauty! Ah, Vapid! I would give worlds for the +coldest expression in this letter. + +_Vapid._ That letter!--what do you mean by that letter? + +_Nev._ And you really pretend not to know the young Lady Waitfor't? + +_Vapid._ No,--I hav'n't spoke to a woman at Bath,--but a sweet girl I +danced with at the ball; and who she is, by the Lord, I don't know. + +_Nev._ Well, but, Vapid--young Lady Waitfor't--she loves you to +distraction. + +_Vapid._ As I hope for fame, I never heard her name before. + +_Nev._ Then she has heard yours, and admires your genius; however, read +the letter, and be satisfied she loves you. [_VAPID reads._ + + _Arrived at Bath--duty I owe--virtuous part of + mankind--beheld your merit--wish to encourage--six this + evening.--A. Waitfor't--Grove._ + +_Vapid._ Yes, yes, it's plain enough now--she admires my talents!--It +isn't the first time, Neville, this has happened.--Sweet fond +fool!--I'll go and prepare myself directly. + +_Nev._ Ay do, Vapid,--she'll be all on fire to see you. + +_Vapid._ All on fire! I suppose so.--Write a play, Neville, write a +play--you see the effect of the muses and graces when they unite--you +see, Neville, you see----but, hold, hold--how the devil came you by this +letter? + +_Nev._ That's true enough. [_Aside._] I'll tell you--I was at her party +last night, and on coming out of the room she slipt it into my hand, and +desired me to direct it, and give it to you--She has often spoke to me +in your favour, and I did you all the good I could--however, to be sure +it's no mistake, ask the servant, who admits you, if the name at the +bottom is not her own hand-writing. + +_Vapid._ Oh, no!--it's no mistake,--there's no doubt of the +matter.--Write a play, Neville, write a play--and charm the ladies, you +dog!--adieu! [_Exit._ + +_Ennui._ I've an idea--if we've common fortune, this will do every +thing. + +_Nev._ No,--Lady Waitfor't's arts are numberless--she is so perfect a +hypocrite, that I even doubt her confessing her real sentiments to her +minion Willoughby; and when she does a bad action, she ever pretends +'tis from a good motive. + + _Enter VAPID._ + +_Vapid._ Gad, I forgot--you'll recollect the epilogue, Neville. + +_Nev._ Yes,--I'll write to my cousin to-day. + +_Vapid._ But, not a word of the love affair to him--any where else +indeed it might do one a service--but never tell an intrigue to a +dramatic author. + +_Ennui._ In fact--why not sir? + +_Vapid._ Because it may furnish a scene for a comedy--I do it +myself.--Indeed, I think the best part of an intrigue is the hopes of +incident, or stage effect--however, I can't stay. + +_Nev._ Nay, we'll walk with you--I, in pursuit of my brother--you, of +your mistress. + +_Vapid._ Ay, Neville, there it is--now, do take my advice, and write a +play--if any incident happens, remember, it is better to have written a +damned play, than no play at all--it snatches a man from obscurity--and +being particular, as this world goes, is a very great thing. + +_Nev._ But I confess I have no desire to get into print. + +_Vapid._ Get into print!--pshaw! every body gets into print now.--Kings +and quacks--peers and poets--bishops and boxers--tailors and trading +justices--can't go lower, you know--all get into print!--But we soar a +little higher,--we have privileges peculiar to ourselves.--Now, sir, +I--I, for my part, can talk as I please,--say what I will, it is sure to +excite mirth,--for, supposing you don't laugh at my wit, I laugh myself, +Neville, and that makes every body else do the same--so allons! + +_Ennui._ I've an idea--no bad mode of routing the enemy. [_Exeunt._ + + + + +ACT THE SECOND. + + +SCENE I. + + + _An Apartment in LADY WAITFOR'T'S House.--Two Chairs._ + + _Enter VAPID and a SERVANT._ + +_Serv._ Sir, my lady will wait on you immediately. + +_Vapid._ Hark ye, sir--Is this young lady of yours very handsome? + +_Serv._ Sir? + +_Vapid._ Is your young mistress, sir, very handsome? + +_Serv._ Yes, sir.--My young mistress is thought a perfect beauty. + +_Vapid._ Charming!--What age do you reckon her? + +_Serv._ About twenty, sir. + +_Vapid._ The right interesting age! and fond of the drama, I suppose? + +_Serv._ Sir? + +_Vapid._ Very fond of plays, I presume? + +_Serv._ Yes, sir, very fond of plays, or any thing relating to them. + +_Vapid._ Delightful!--now am I the happiest dog alive:--yes, yes, Vapid! +let the town damn your plays, the women will never desert you. [_Seats +himself._] You needn't stay, sir. [_Exit SERVANT._] That's a good sign, +that fellow isn't used to this kind of business--so much the +better--practice is the destruction of love----yes, I shall indulge a +beautiful woman,--gratify myself, and, perhaps, get the last scene for +my unfinished comedy. + + _Enter LADY WAITFOR'T._ + +_Lady._ Sir, your most obedient. + +_Vapid._ Ma'am. [_Bowing._ + +_Lady._ Pray keep your seat, sir--I beg I mayn't disturb you. + +_Vapid._ By no means, ma'am, give me leave--[_Both sit._] Who the devil +have we here? [_Aside._ + +_Lady._ I am told, sir, you have business for Lady Waitfor't? + +_Vapid._ Yes, ma'am--being my first appearance in that character, but I +could wait whole hours for so beautiful a woman. + +_Lady._ Oh, sir! + +_Vapid._ Yes--I am no stranger to her charms----sweet young creature! + +_Lady._ Nay, dear sir, not so _very_ young. + +_Vapid._ Your pardon, ma'am,--and her youth enhances her other +merits.--But, oh! she has one charm that surpasses all. + +_Lady._ Has she, sir?--What may that be? + +_Vapid._ Her passion for the stage. + +_Lady._ Sir! + +_Vapid._ Yes, her passion for the stage; that, in my mind, makes her the +first of her sex. + +_Lady._ Sir, she has no passion for the stage. + +_Vapid._ Yes, yes, she has. + +_Lady._ But I protest she has not. + +_Vapid._ But I declare and affirm it as a fact, she has a strong passion +for the stage, and a violent attachment for all the people that belong +to it. + +_Lady._ Sir, I don't understand you--explain. + +_Vapid._ Hark ye,--we are alone--I promise it shall go no further, and +I'll let you into a secret--I know---- + +_Lady._ Well, what do you know? + +_Vapid._ I know a certain dramatic author with whom she----he had a +letter from her this morning. + +_Lady._ What? + +_Vapid._ Yes,--an assignation--don't be alarmed--the man may be depended +on--he is safe--very safe!--Long in the habit of intrigue--a good person +too!--a very good person indeed. + +_Lady._ Amazement! + +_Vapid._ [_Whispering her._] Hark ye, he means to make her happy in less +than half an hour. + +_Lady._ [_Rising._] Sir, do you know who you're talking to?--do you know +who I am? + +_Vapid._ No,--How the devil should I? + +_Lady._ Then know I am Lady Waitfor't! + +_Vapid._ You Lady Waitfor't! + +_Lady._ Yes, sir--the only Lady Waitfor't! + +_Vapid._ Mercy on me!--here's incident! + +_Lady._ Yes, and I am convinced you were sent here by that traitor, +Neville.--Speak, is he not your friend? + +_Vapid._ Yes, ma'am:--I know Mr Neville.--Here's equivoque! + +_Lady._ This is some trick, some stratagem of his.--He gave you the +letter to perplex and embarrass me. + +_Vapid._ Gave the letter! 'gad that's great.--Pray, ma'am, give me leave +to ask you one question--Did you write to Mr Neville? + +_Lady._ Yes, sir,--to confess the truth, I did--but from motives---- + +_Vapid._ Stop, my dear ma'am, stop--I have it--now,--let me be +clear--first, you send him a letter; is it not so? yes: then he gives it +to me--very well: then I come (supposing you only twenty) mighty +well!--then you turn out ninety--charming!---then comes the +embarrassment: then the eclaircissement! Oh! it's glorious!--Give me +your hand--you have atoned for every thing. + +_Lady._ O! I owe all this to that villain, Neville--I am not +revengeful--but 'tis a weakness to endure such repeated provocations, +and I am convinced the mind, that too frequently forgives bad actions, +will at last forget good ones. + +_Vapid._ Bravo! encore, encore--it is the very best sentiment I ever +heard--say it again, pray say it again--I'll take it down, and blend it +with the incident, and you shall be gratified, one day or other, with +seeing the whole on the stage.--"The mind that too frequently forgives +bad actions will at last forget good ones." + [_Taking it down in his common place book._ + +_Lady._ This madman's folly is not to be borne--if my Lord too should +discover him. [_VAPID sits, and takes notes._] Here, the consequences +might be dreadful, and the scheme of Ennui's play all undone.--Sir, I +desire you'll quit my house immediately--Oh! I'll be revenged, I'm +determined. [_Exit._ + +_Vapid._ What a great exit!----Very well!--I've got an incident, +however.--'Faith, I have noble talents--to extract gold from lead has +been the toil of numberless philosophers; but I extract it from a baser +metal, human frailty--Oh! it's a great thing to be a dramatic genius!--a +very great thing indeed. [_As he is going,_ + + _Enter LORD SCRATCH._ + +_Vapid._ Sir, your most devoted,----How d'ye do? + +_Lord._ Sir, your most obedient. + +_Vapid._ Very warm tragedy weather, sir!--but, for my part, I hate +summer, and I'll tell you why,--the theatres are shut, and when I pass +by their doors in an evening, it makes me melancholy--I look upon them +as the tombs of departed friends that were wont to instruct and delight +me--I don't know how you feel--perhaps you are not in my way? + +_Lord._ Sir! + +_Vapid._ Perhaps you don't write for the stage--if you do,--hark +ye--there is a capital character in this house for a farce. + +_Lord._ Why! what is all this--who are you? + +_Vapid._ Who am I?--here's a question! in these times who can tell who +he is?--for aught I know I may be great uncle to yourself, or first +cousin to Lady Waitfor't--the very woman I was about to--but no +matter--since you're so very inquisitive, do you know who you are? + +_Lord._ Look ye, sir, I am Lord Scratch. + +_Vapid._ A peer! pshaw! contemptible;--when I ask a man who he is, I +don't want to know what are his titles, and such nonsense; no, Old +Scratch, I want to know what he has written, when he had the curtain up, +and whether he's a true son of the drama.--Harkye, don't make yourself +uneasy on my account--In my next pantomime, perhaps, I'll let you know +who I am, Old Scratch. [_Exit._ + +_Lord._ Astonishing! can this be Lady Waitfor't's house--"Very warm +tragedy weather, sir!" "In my next pantomime, let you know who I +am."--Gad, I must go and investigate the matter immediately, and if she +has wronged me, by the blood of the Scratches, I'll bring the whole +business before parliament, make a speech ten hours long, reduce the +price of opium, and set the nation in a lethargy. [_Exit._ + + +SCENE II. + + + _A Library in LADY WAITFOR'T'S House.--A Sofa and two Chairs._ + + _Enter VAPID._ + +_Vapid._ Either this house is a labyrinth, or I, in reflecting on my +incident, have forgot myself; for so it is I can't find my way out--who +have we here? by the sixtieth night, my little partner! + + _Enter MARIANNE, with a Book in her Hand._ + +_Mari._ The poet I danced with!--he little thinks how much I've thought +of him since--Sir. [_Courtesying._ + +_Vapid._ Ma'am. [_Bowing._] + +_Mari._ I hope, sir, you caught no cold the other night? + +_Vapid._ No, ma'am, I was much nearer a fever than a cold.--Pray, ma'am, +what is your study? + +_Mari._ I have been reading "All for Love."--Pray, sir, do you know any +thing about plays? + +_Vapid._ Know any thing about plays!--there's a question! + +_Mari._ I know so much about them, that I once acted at a private +theatre. + +_Vapid._ Did you? Then you acted for your own amusement, and nobody's +else: what was the play? + +_Mari._ I can't tell! + +_Vapid._ Can't tell? + +_Mari._ No,--nobody knew,--it's a way they have. + +_Vapid._ Then they never act a play of mine.--With all this partiality +for the stage--perhaps you would be content with a dramatist for +life--particularly if his morals were fine? + +_Mari._ Lord! I don't care about fine morals--I'd rather my husband had +fine teeth,--and I'm told most women of fashion are of the same opinion. + +_Vapid._ To be sure they are,--but could you really consent to run away +with a poet? + +_Mari._ 'Faith--with all my heart--they never have any money, you know, +and, as I have none, our distress would be complete; and, if we had any +luck, our adventures would become public, and then we should get into a +novel at last. + +_Vapid._ Into a prison, more probably--if she goes on in this way, I +must dramatize her first,--and run away with her afterwards. [_Aside._] +Come, are you ready? + +_Lady W._ [_Without._] Tell my lord, sir, I'll wait in the library. + +_Mari._ Oh lord! my aunt, what's to be done? + +_Vapid._ What's to be done!--why? + +_Mari._ She mustn't find you here--she'll be the death of us, she is so +violent. + +_Vapid._ Well, I'm not afraid--she's no manager. + +_Mari._ If you have any pity for me--here--hide yourself for a moment +behind this sofa, and I'll get her out of the room directly. + +_Vapid._ Behind the sofa! here's an incident! + +_Mari._ Nay--pray--she's here! come--quick!--quick!-- + + [_VAPID gets behind the Sofa, MARIANNE sits on it, takes + out her work bag, and begins singing----_ + +_Mari._ Toll de roll, &c. + + _Enter LADY WAITFOR'T._ + +_Lady._ Marianne, how came you here? I desire you'll leave the room +directly. + +_Mari._ Leave the room, aunt? + +_Lady._ Yes, leave the room immediately--what are you looking at? + +_Mari._ Nothing, aunt, nothing--Lord! lord! what will become of poor, +poor Mr Poet? [_Exit._ + +_Lady._ So--here's my lord--now to mention Ennui's play, and if it does +but prejudice him against him, Willoughby marries Louisa, and Neville is +in my own power. + + _Enter LORD SCRATCH._ + +_Lord._ That curst pantomime ruffian! nobody knows any thing about +him--perhaps my lady has got a sudden touch of the dramatic mania, and +prefers him--here she is--now if she would talk about the stage. + +_Lady._ Pray be seated, my lord--I want to ask you a favour. + +_Lord._ Ask me a favour? Is it possible? [_They sit._ + +_Lady._ Yes, for your friend Ennui--what do you think he has done? + +_Lord._ What? + +_Lady._ Turned author.--He has written a comedy. + +_Lord._ A comedy!--she has it. + +_Lady._ Yes--it's very true, and it has been approved of by men of the +first dramatic fame. + +_Lord._ Dramatic fame! she has it!--dam'me, she has it! + +_Lady._ Nay, if you need farther proof, my lord, it has been approved by +the manager of one of the theatres, and the curtain is to draw up next +winter. + +_Lord._ The curtain draw up!--Look ye, madam, I care no more for the +manager or his theatre---- + +_Lady._ Now, my lord, the favour I have to ask of you is this--promise +me to peruse the play, make alterations, and write the epilogue. + +_Lord._ The epilogue!--fire and forefathers! [_LADY holds him._ + +_Lady._ Ay, or the prologue. + +_Lord._ The prologue! blood and gunpowder! + + [_VAPID comes from behind the sofa, and smacks him on + the back._ + +_Vapid._ Prologue or epilogue!--I'm the man--I'll write you both. + +_Lord._ There he is again! + +_Lady._ Oh! I shall faint with vexation!--My lord, I desire you'll +misinterpret nothing--every thing shall be explained to you.--Marianne! + +_Lord._ Here's the curtain up with a vengeance! + + _Enter MARIANNE._ + +_Lady._ Answer me directly, how came that gentleman in this apartment? I +know it is some trick of yours. + +_Vapid._ [_Coming down the stage._] To be sure, never any thing was so +fortunate!--upon my soul, I beg your pardon; but, curse me, if I can +help laughing, to think how lucky it was for you both I happened to be +behind the sofa!--ha! ha! ha! + +_Mari._ [_As if taking the hint._] 'Faith, no more can I--to be sure it +was the luckiest thing in the world! ha! ha! ha! + + [_Here they both laugh loud, and point to my LORD, and + LADY WAITFOR'T, who stand, between them in amazement._ + +_Lady._ Sir, I insist you lay aside this levity, and instantly explain +how you came in this room. + +_Lord._ Ay, sir,--explain. + +_Vapid._ Never fear, old lady--I'll bring you off, depend on't. + +_Lady._ Bring me off, sir! speak out, sir, how came you in this +apartment? + +_Vapid._ With all my heart--by her ladyship's own appointment. + +_Lady._ My own appointment!----I shall run wild. + +_Vapid._ To be sure you have hardly forgot your own hand writing. + +_Lord._ Her own hand writing!--get on, sir,--I beseech you, get on. + +_Vapid._ Why, look ye, old Scratch,--you seem to be an admirer of this +lady's.--Now I think it my duty as a moral dramatist--a moral dramatist, +sir, mark that--to expose hypocrisy--therefore, sir, there is the +letter, read it, and be convinced of your error. + +_Lord._ Very well; have you done, sir--have you done?--consider I'm a +peer of the realm, and I shall die if I don't talk. + +_Vapid._ And now, sir, I must beg a favour of you--[_Gets close to +him._]--keep the whole affair secret, for if it gets hacknied, it loses +its force.--To bring it all on the stage: hush! say nothing--it will +have a capital effect, and brother bards will wonder where I stole +it--your situation will be wonderful--you hav'n't an idea how ridiculous +you will look--you will laugh very much at yourself, I assure you. + +_Lord._ What is all this! Well, now I will speak--I'll wait no longer. + +_Vapid._ Yes, yes, I shall take care of you,--Falstaff in the buck +basket will be nothing to it--he was only the dupe of another man's +wife,--you'll be the dupe of your own, you know--"think of that, Master +Brook, think of that." Well, your servant. [_Exit._ + +_Lord._ He's gone without hearing me!--then there's an end of every +thing, for here I stand, once a barrister,--since a country gentleman, +and now a peer; and, though I have made twenty attempts to speak, I +can't be heard a syllable,--mercy! what will this world come to! A peer, +and not be heard! + +_Lady._ My lord,--assured of my innocence, I have no doubt of justifying +my own conduct, and even by means of that letter increasing your +affection.--It was written to another person--your ungrateful nephew. + +_Lord._ My nephew? + +_Lady._ Yes, sir, I could not perceive him losing the esteem of his +friends, without having the desire to reclaim him--indeed, I knew no +better mode of fulfilling my project, than by personally warning him of +his situation.--For this purpose, I wrote that letter, and I never +thought it would have been thus misused.--If there is any improper +warmth in the expressions, it only proceeds from my anxiety of ensuring +an interview.--I hope, sir, you are satisfied. + +_Lord._ Why, I believe you, my lady; and I should be perfectly satisfied +if I could forget your passion for the stage, and that madman behind the +sofa. + +_Lady._ As to that, sir, this young lady can best inform you.--I desired +him to leave the house an hour ago. + +_Mari._ [_Aside._] I'm afraid my only way is to confess all.--My lord, +if I confess the truth, I hope you'll prevail on my aunt to forgive me. + +_Lord._ Tell what you know, and I'll answer for your forgiveness. + +_Mari._ Why, sir, I found the gentleman alone, and not having had a +_tete-a-tete_ a long time, I pressed him to stay, and, on hearing your +voice, I put him behind the sofa,--that you might not think any thing +had happened,--and, indeed, sir, nothing did happen--upon my word he's +as quiet, inoffensive a gentleman as yourself. + +_Lord._ My fears are over! Oh! you finished composition! come to my +arms, and when I suspect you again--[_Coughs much._]--this curst cough, +it takes one so suddenly! + + _Enter ENNUI._ + +_Ennui._ I've an idea--Floriville is arrived--in fact--I just now spoke +to him. + +_Lord._ Floriville arrived!--Come, my lady--let's go see what his +travels have done for him.--Hark ye, Ennui--prepare for your interview +with Louisa, and remember you make a mandarin member.--Come, my +lady--nay, never irritate your feelings. [_Exeunt LORD and LADY._ + +_Mari._ So--poor Mr Neville is to lose Miss Courtney.--Her present +quarrel with him is so violent, that she may marry this idiot merely in +revenge.--If I could dupe him now, and ensure her contempt.--I'll +try.--Mr Ennui, have you seen your intended wife yet? + +_Ennui._ No. + +_Mari._ So I thought--why you'll never please her while you remain as +you are.--You must alter your manners.--She is all life!--all +spirits!--and loves a man the very opposite to you. + +_Ennui._ I've an idea--I'm very sorry--in fact--how can I please her? + +_Mari._ There's the difficulty--let me see--the sort of man she prefers +is--you know Sir Harry Hustle?--a man all activity and confidence!--who +does every thing from fashion, and glories in confessing it. + +_Ennui._ Sir Harry Hustle?--in fact--he's a modern blood of fashion. + +_Mari._ I know--that's the reason she likes him, and you must become the +same, if you wish to win her affection--a new dress--bold looks--a few +oaths, and much swaggering, effects the business. [_ENNUI puts himself +in attitudes._] Ay, that's right, you are the very man already. + +_Ennui._ I'm a lad of fashion!--eh, dam'me!--I've an idea--I shall fall +asleep in the midst of it. + +_Mari._ No, no;--go about it directly--see Sir Harry Hustle, and study +your conversation before hand--but remember Louisa is so fond of +fashion, that you can't boast too much of its vices and absurdities. + +_Ennui._ If virtue was the fashion, I should be virtuous!--I should, +dam'me! + +_Mari._ Ay, that's the very thing--well;--good bye, Mr Ennui--success +attend you--mind you talk enough. + +_Ennui._ Talk!--I'll talk till I fall asleep!--I will! dam'me! + [_Exit, swaggering.--MARIANNE laughing._ + + + + +ACT THE THIRD. + + +SCENE I. + + + _A Saloon in LADY WAITFOR'T'S House._ + + _LOUISA discovered reading._ + +_Louisa._ Heigho! these poets are wonderfully tiresome--always on the +same theme--nothing but love--I'm weary of it. [_Lays down the book, and +rises._] Ungenerous Neville! how could he use me so cruelly? to attempt +to gain my affections, and then address another? Lady Waitfor't has +convinced me of the fact,--I can never forgive him: yet, I fear I love +him still--well, I'll even go examine my heart, and determine whether I +do love him or not. + + _Enter NEVILLE, as she is going out._ + +Mr Neville!--I thought, sir, I had desired we might never meet again. + +_Nev._ 'Tis true, madam, and I meant to obey your commands, hard as they +were, implicitly obey them--but I came hither to welcome my brother, and +not to intrude on the happiness of her I am doomed to avoid. + +_Louisa._ If I remember, sir, truth was ever among the foremost of your +virtues? + +_Nev._ Yes--and I am confident you have no reason to doubt it--though +you have cause to censure my presumption, you have none to suspect my +fidelity. + +_Louisa._ Oh no!--I don't suspect your fidelity in the least, but when +people are faithful to more than one, you know, Mr Neville---- + +_Nev._ I don't understand you, ma'am. + +_Louisa._ It is no matter, Mr Neville--you may spare yourself any +trouble in attempting to justify your conduct--I am perfectly satisfied, +sir, I'll assure you. [_Going._ + +_Nev._ Oh, do not leave me in this anxious state!--perhaps this is the +last time we shall ever meet, and to part thus, would embitter every +future moment of my life. Indeed, I have no hopes that concern not your +happiness--no wishes that relate not to your esteem. + +_Louisa._ Sir,--I will freely confess to you, had you shown the least +perseverance in your affection or sincerity in your behaviour, I could +have heard your addresses with pleasure--but to listen to them now, Mr +Neville, would be to approve a conduct, my honour prompts me to resent, +and my pride to despise. + +_Nev._ Then I am lost indeed!--'Tis to the perfidious Lady Waitfor't I +owe all this--my present + + _Enter LADY WAITFOR'T, behind._ + +misery--my future pain--are all the product of her jealous rage!--She is +so vile a hypocrite, that-- + +_Lady._ [_Coming forward._] Who is a hypocrite, sir? + +_Nev._ Madam! + +_Lady._ Who is a hypocrite, sir? answer me. + +_Nev._ Ask your own heart, that can best inform you. + +_Lady._ Tell me, Mr Neville, what have I done, that you dare insult me +thus? + +_Nev._ What have you done! look on that lady, madam;--there all my hopes +and wishes were combined!--There was the very summit of my bliss!--I +thought I had attained it; but in the moment of my happiness, you came, +crushed every hope, and baffled all my joys. + +_Lady._ Upon my word, sir, very romantic,--but I thank Heaven, I look +for approbation in a better opinion than that of Mr Neville's. + +_Nev._ 'Tis well you do, madam; for were I your judge, your punishment +should be exemplary.--But I'll waste words no more--I only hope [_To +LOUISA._] you, madam, are satisfied that one of my errors may at least +be forgiven, and this last suspicion for ever blotted from your memory. + +_Lady._ Sir,--from that lady's forgiveness you have nothing to +expect--if she consents to pardon you, I'll take care my lord never +shall. + +_Nev._ No--I do not hope for forgiveness--I have heard her +determination; and, cruel as it is, to that I must resign;--she may be +assured I never will intrude where I know I offend. + +_Louisa._ Do you then leave us, Mr Neville? + +_Nev._ Yes, madam,--and for ever!----May you be as blest in the +gratification of your hopes as I have been wretched in the +disappointment of mine. [_Exit._ + +_Lady._ Tyrant! I wish he had stayed to hear reason--I hope he is not +serious in leaving us. + +_Louisa._ You hope!--Why does it concern you? + +_Lady._ Oh! no further than from that general love I bear mankind.--You +forget my feelings on these occasions, Louisa. + +_Louisa._ Yes, indeed--I have too much reason to attend to my +own!--You'll excuse me--I have particular business--I'll return +immediately. [_Exit._ + +_Lady._ Oh! the cause of her confusion is evident--she loves him +still--but they shall never meet again--I have already sent a letter to +Willoughby, which imparts a scheme I have long cherished. My lord, in +his anger about my stage mania, has forgot Ennui's play; so, that there +may be no bars to Willoughby's happiness, I am determined Louisa shall +be his this very night. + + _Enter LORD SCRATCH._ + +_Lord._ Here's a spectacle for a peer! Floriville is below, and has +returned from his travels a finished coxcomb.--I'll not give him a +farthing. + +_Lady._ Nay, my lord, perhaps you may be mistaken. + +_Lord._ Mistaken! no,--he has travelled not to see, but to say he had +seen. + + _Enter MARIANNE, with a French Watch and Chain._ + +_Mari._ Oh, uncle-in-law! look here----I never saw any thing so elegant +in all my life. + +_Lord._ Whose present is this? + +_Mari._ Whose!--why the sweet gentleman's just arrived from +Italy.--Lord! he's a dear man!--He has promised to do every thing for +me--to get me a fortune--to get me a husband--to get me a---- + +_Lord._ Hush! you don't know what you are talking about. + +_Mari._ Yes, but I do, though--he has told me every thing--Lord! I have +heard such things!--Come here, near--[_LORD SCRATCH gets close to her._] +get my aunt out of the room, and I'll tell you stories that shall make +your old heart bound again! Hush! do it quietly--I will, upon my +honour.--What an old fool it is! [_Aside._ + +_Lady._ Marianne, you mustn't listen to Mr Floriville,--for travellers +may persuade you into any thing--and many a woman has been ruined in one +country, by being told it is the fashion in another. + +_Lord._ Here he comes: I see, as plain as my peerage, I sha'n't keep my +temper. + + _Enter FLORIVILLE._ + +_Flor._ Ladies, a thousand pardons, for not waiting on you before, but +this is the first vacant moment I have had since my arrival in Bath. + +_Mari._ Sir, your coming at all is taken as a very great compliment, +I'll assure you. + +_Lady._ Leave the room immediately--no reply--I will be obeyed--[_To +MARIANNE, who exits._] Mr Floriville, we are very happy to see you. + +_Flor._ Ma'am, you do me honour--my lord, where's Harry?--I thought to +have found him here;--what, he didn't chuse to stay?--so much the +better--it shows he's not a man of ceremony--we do the same in Italy. +But, hark ye, uncle,--is this the lady I'm to call my aunt? + +_Lord._ My gorge is rising: I shall certainly do him a mischief. + +_Flor._ [_Spying at her._] Rather experienced or so--a little antique, +eh!--however, the same motive that makes her a good aunt to me, will +make her a good wife to you--you understand me? + +_Lord._ Dam'me if I do. + +_Flor._ Well, well, no matter--come, I want to hear every thing--to know +what remarkable occurrences have happened since I left England.--Pray, +Lady Waitfor't, inform me--do let me know every little circumstance. + +_Lady._ Rather, sir, we should ask of you what happened in your travels? + +_Flor._ Oh, nothing so shocking!--no man can be the herald of his own +praise. + +_Lady._ Yes, sir,--but I wish to know how you like the Chapel of +Loretto, the Venus de Medicis of Florence, the Vatican at Rome, and all +the numberless curiosities peculiar to the countries you have travelled +through? + +_Lord._ Look ye--I'll answer for it, he knows nothing of the gentlemen +you mention--do you, my sweet pretty?--Oh! you damned puppy! + +_Flor._ Why swear, my lord? + +_Lord._ Swear, my lord! Zounds! it's my prerogative, and, by----tell me +how you spent your time, sir? + +_Flor._ Why, in contemplating living angels, not dead antiquities;--in +basking in the rays of beauty, not mouldering in the dust of +ancestry;--in mirth, festivity, and pleasure; not study, pedantry, and +retirement.--Oh, I have lived, sir! lived for myself, not an ungrateful +world, who, should I die a martyr to their cause, would only laugh and +wonder at my folly. + +_Lady._ You seem to know the world, Mr Floriville. + +_Flor._ No, ma'am, I know little of mankind, and less of myself,--I have +no pilot, but my pleasures;--no mistress, but my passions;--and I don't +believe, if it was to save my life, I could reason consequentially for a +minute together. + +_Lord._ Granted:--you have seen every thing worth seeing, yet know +nothing worth knowing;--and now you have just knowledge enough to prove +yourself a fool on every subject. + +_Flor._ Vastly well, my lord--upon my word, you improve with your title, +but I am perfectly satisfied, believe me--for what I don't know, I take +for granted is not worth knowing--therefore we'll call another +topic.--I'm in love, my lord. + +_Lord._ In love!--with who, sir? + +_Flor._ Can't you guess? + +_Lord._ No, sir, I cannot. + +_Flor._ With one that will please you very much--at least, ought to +please you--you'll be in raptures, dear uncle. + +_Lord._ Raptures! and you shall be in agonies, my dear nephew. + +_Flor._ You have known one another a long while, yet you hav'n't met for +years--you have loved one another a long while, yet you quarrelled not +an hour ago--you have differed from one another all your lives, yet you +are likely to be friends as long as you live--and, above all, the person +is now in the house. + +_Lord._ In this house! let me know who it is this moment, or by the +blood of the Scratches---- + +_Flor._ One who has charms enough to set the world on fire;--one who has +fortune enough to set a state at war, sir;--one who has talents, health, +and prosperity, and yet not half what the person deserves:--can you tell +now, sir? + +_Lord._ No, sir, and if you don't tell this instant---- + +_Flor._ Then I'll tell you, [_Slaps him on the back._] it's myself, sir! +my own charming self!--I have searched the world over, and I don't find +any thing I like half so well. [_Walks up the stage._ + +_Lord._ I won't disgrace myself,--I won't lower the dignity of peerage, +by chastising a commoner;--else, you Prince of Butterflies----come, my +lady----look ye, sir--I intend to be handed down to posterity; and, +while you are being lampooned in ballads and newspapers, I mean to cut a +figure in the History of England:--so, come along, my lady--in the +History of England, you coxcomb! [_Exeunt LORD and LADY._ + +_Flor._ If the face is the picture of the mind, that intended aunt of +mine is a great hypocrite, and the story I heard of the poet proves +it.--But now for a frolic--'gad it's very strange I could never reform, +and become a serious thinking being--but what's the use of thinking? + + Reason stays till we call, and then not oft is near, + But honest instinct comes a volunteer!-- [_Exit._ + + +SCENE II. + + + _An Apartment in LADY WAITFOR'T'S House._ + + _Enter WILLOUGHBY and SERVANT._ + +_Will._ [_To SERVANT._] Tell your mistress I shall be punctual to the +appointment. [_Exit SERVANT._] So, thanks to fortune, Lady Waitfor't has +at length consented to my entreaties, and this night makes Louisa mine +for ever!--now to read the letter once more. [_Reads._ + + _Louisa accompanies me to-night to Lady Walton's, which + you know is at the extremity of the town--on some + pretence or other I'll tell her I have ordered the + servant at the back gate which adjoins the + paddock,--there I'll leave her--and if you have a + chaise waiting near the spot, you may conduct her where + you please.--You know my feelings on this occasion, but + it is for her good only, I'll assure you--she don't + deserve it, Mr Willoughby:--indeed she don't deserve + it._ + + A. WAITFOR'T. + +So--this is beyond my hopes!--ha! my Lord, and Louisa with him, come to +receive Ennui, whom, to my astonishment, I met just now swearing and +capering, and boasting of the vices of fashion--but no matter--I must to +the rendezvous immediately--now, Louisa, tremble at my vengeance! + [_Exit._ + + _Enter LORD SCRATCH and LOUISA._ + +_Lord._ Yes, yes:--Ennui will be here in an instant--but he's so +reserved--and so mild-- + +_Louisa._ So I understand, sir--and so very silent, that he won't talk +so much in a year, as I intend in an hour. + +_Lord._ I know--that's the reason I bring him into parliament--he'll +never speak--only say "Ay" or "No," and be up stairs to beef-steaks in +an instant, [_Knock._] Here he is!--now encourage him--don't mind his +diffidence-- + +_Louisa._ No, sir--I'll do all in my power to make him talk. + +_Lord._ That's well--I'll leave you together--I won't interrupt you, +[_Stamping without._] Odso!--I must get out of the way,--encourage him; +Louisa--I beseech you encourage him! [_Exit._ + +_Ennui._ [_Without._] Stand by! no ceremony, damme!-- + +_Louisa._ Heaven!--is this diffidence? + + _Enter ENNUI and SERVANT._ + +_Ennui._ Get down stairs, you dog--get down,--[_Exit SERVANT._] Here I +am, ma'am:--ease is every thing--I'll seat myself--now for +business!--yaw--aw!-- [_Yawns aside._ + +_Louisa._ Sir! + +_Ennui._ In one word, I'll tell you my character,--I'm a lad of +fashion!--I love gaming--I hate thinking--I like racing--I despise +reading--I patronize boxing--I detest reasoning--I pay debts of +honour,--not honourable debts--in short, I'll kick your servants--cheat +your family, and fight your guardian--and so if you like me, take +me--heh, damme!--I'm tired already!--yaw--aw. [_Yawns aside._ + +_Louisa._ Astonishing!--Mr Ennui-- + +_Ennui._ Ma'am? yaw--aw! [_Aside._ + +_Louisa._ Mr Ennui, can you be in your senses? + +_Ennui._ In fact--I don't comprehend [_Forgetting +himself._]--Oh--ay--senses! [_Recollecting himself._] a lad of fashion +in his senses!--that's a very good joke!--if one of us had any sense, +the rest would shut him up in a cabinet of curiosities, or show him as a +wonderful animal:--they would, damme!--I can't support it!--yaw--aw! + [_Yawns aside._ + +_Louisa._ So, you glory in your ignorance? + +_Ennui._ Ma'am--yaw! aw! [_Aside._ + +_Louisa._ So, you glory in your ignorance--in your vices? + +_Ennui._ I've an idea--I can't understand--[_Forgetting +himself._]--vices! Oh:--ay, damme, to be sure; [_Recollecting himself._] +you must be wicked, or you can't be visited--singularity is every +thing,--every man must get a character, and I'll tell you how I first +got mine:--I pretended to intrigue with my friend's wife,--paragraph'd +myself in the newspapers,--got caricatured in the print-shops--made the +story believed,--was abused by every body,--noticed for my gallantry by +every body--and at length visited by every body--I was, damme!--I'm +curst sleepy,--yaw--aw! [_Yawns aside._ + +_Louisa._ Incredible!--but if singularity is your system, perhaps being +virtuous would make you as particular as any thing. + +_Ennui._ Vastly well!--'gad, you're like me, a wit, and don't know it. +[_Taking out his Watch._] How goes the enemy?--more than half the day +over!--tol de rol lol! [_Humming a tune._] I'm as happy as if I was at a +fire, or a general riot.--Come to my arms, thou angel--thou--[_As he +goes to embrace her, LORD SCRATCH enters--he embraces him._] +Ah,--Scratch!--my friend Scratch!--sit down, my old boy--sit +down,--we've settled every thing. [_Forces him into a Chair, and sits by +him._] + +_Lord._ Why,--what is all this? + +_Ennui._ She's to intrigue, and you and I are to go halves in the +damages--some rich old Nabob--we'll draw him into _crim. con._--bring an +action directly, and a ten thousand pound verdict at least--eh, damme!-- + +_Lord._ Why he's mad!--that dramatic maniac has bit him. + +_Ennui._ Get a divorce--marry another, and go halves again, damme! + +_Lord._ [_Rising._] Why, look ye, you impostor!--you--didn't you come +here to pay your addresses to this lady? and wasn't I to bring you into +parliament, for your quiet silent disposition? + +_Ennui._ [_Pushing him out of his way._] Hold your tongue! out of the +way, Scratch!--out of the way, or I'll do you a mischief--I will, +damme!--Zounds!--a'nt I at the top of the beau monde? and don't I set +the fashions?--if I was to cut off my head, wouldn't half the town do +the same?--they would, damme!--I get sleepy again!--yaw--aw!-- [_Aside._ + +_Lord._ Here now!--here's a mandarin member;--why, he'd have bred a +civil war!--made ten long speeches in a day!--cut your head off, +indeed!--curse me but I wish you would--you must be silent then--you +couldn't talk without a head, could you? + +_Ennui._ Yes, in parliament--as well without a head as with one--do you +think a man wants a head for a long speech, damme!-- + + _Enter SERVANT._ + +_Servant._ Her ladyship is waiting, ma'am. + +_Louisa._ Oh, I attend her,--Mr Ennui, your most obedient. + +_Ennui._ [_Taking her Hand._] With your leave, ma'am.--You see, +Scratch--you see. + +_Lord._ Why, Louisa!-- + +_Ennui._ Keep your distance, Scratch--contemplate your superiors,--look +at me with the same awful respect a city beau looks at a prince,--this +way, most angelic--Scratch, cut your head off--this way, most angelic. + [_Exit with LOUISA._ + +_Lord._ Here's treatment!--was ever poor peer so tormented?--what am I +to do?--I'll go to Lady Waitfor't, for from her alone I meet +relief,--find a silent member, indeed!--by my privilege one might as +soon find a pin in the ocean,--charity in a bench of bishops,--or wit in +Westminster hall! [_Exit._ + + + + +ACT THE FOURTH. + + +SCENE I. + + + _The Paddock near LADY WALTON'S House--A View of the + House at a distance, and partly moonlight._ + + _WILLOUGHBY alone._ + +_Willoughby._ 'Tis past the hour Lady Waitfor't appointed--why does she +delay? I cannot have mistaken the place--yonder's Lady Walton's +house--Oh! 'would all were past, and Louisa safely mine! I hear a +noise--by Heaven 'tis she! and with her all my happiness--I'll withdraw +a while, and observe them. [_Retires._ + + _Enter LADY WAITFOR'T and LOUISA COURTNEY._ + +_Louisa._ My dear Lady Waitfor't, why do you loiter here? you cannot +find your servants in this place--let us return to Lady Walton's. + +_Lady._ No, no, they must be here,--I ordered them to wait in this very +spot, to avoid confusion. What can have become of Willoughby? [_Aside._ + +_Louisa._ If you have the least sense of fear for yourself, or regard +for me, I beg we may return to Lady Walton's. + +_Lady._ No, no, I tell you I ordered William at the back gate, that he +might conduct us through the paddock to our carriage; you know we might +have been whole hours getting through the crowd the other way--do be a +little patient, hav'n't I as much reason to be alarmed as yourself? + +_Louisa._ Yes, but you have not the apprehension I have; I don't know +why, but I am terrified beyond description. + +_Lady._ Well, well, never fear; [_Looking out._] Oh, yonder's +Willoughby! now for the grand design! [_Aside._] Louisa, if you'll wait +here a moment I'll step to the next gate, and see if they are +there;--they cannot escape us then. + +_Louisa._ No, no, don't leave me;--I wouldn't stay by myself for the +world. + +_Lady._ Ridiculous! can't you protect yourself for an instant? must you +be all your life watch'd like a baby in leading-strings? Oh! I am +ashamed of you--only wait a moment, lest they pass by in my absence, and +I'll return to you immediately. + +_Louisa._ Well: don't stay. + +_Lady._ Stay! what have you to be frightened at? I shall not be out of +call;--besides, if there's any fear of a personal attack, may not I be +as terrified as yourself? It isn't the first time, I'll assure you, but +that's no matter;--show yourself a woman of spirit, and, at least, +emulate one of my virtues.--Now, Willoughby, the rest is thine! [_Exit._ + + _WILLOUGHBY comes forward._ + +_Willoughby._ Be not alarmed, Miss Courtney. + +_Louisa._ Mr Willoughby! + +_Willoughby._ Yes, madam; the man you most avoid. + +_Louisa._ Tell me, sir, immediately, how, and by whose appointment, you +came here? + +_Willoughby._ By love, madam; the same passion that has prompted me to +pursue you for years, now happily conducts me hither;--I come to lessen +your fears, not to increase them. + +_Louisa._ Then, leave me, sir, I can protect myself. + +_Willoughby._ No, not till you have heard and pitied me; I have been +long your suitor, and long scorned by you; you have treated me with +indifference, and preferred my inferiors; how I have deserved all this, +yourself can best explain, but, to prove all former cruelties are +forgotten, I here offer you my hand, and, with it, my heart. + +_Louisa._ Sir,--this is no time for hearing you on this subject; if you +wish to oblige me, leave me. + +_Willoughby._ No, not till I am answered;--years may elapse ere I shall +have another opportunity like the present, therefore no time can be so +well as now. + +_Louisa._ Then I command you to leave me,--I will not be threatened into +a compliance. + +_Willoughby._ Look ye, Miss Courtney--I would avoid taking advantage of +your situation--nay, start not--but if you persist in your contempt of +me, I know not to what extremities passion may hurry me; I have every +motive for redress, and, if you do not instantly give me your word, to +prefer me to that beggar Neville, I may do that, my cooler sense would +scorn. + +_Louisa._ Beggar, sir! + +_Willoughby._ Yes; and, were he not beneath my resentment, I'd tell you +more;--but he is too poor--too-- + +_Louisa._ Hold, sir; did you resemble him, I might esteem, nay, adore +you; but as you are, I loath, I despise, I defy you;--you take advantage +of my situation!--Hear me, sir,--though not a friend is near,--though +night opposes me, and Heaven deserts me, yet can I smile upon your +menaces, and make you tremble, villain as you are. + +_Willoughby._ Have a care, madam! another declaration like that, and +I'll delay no longer;--I'll force you to my purpose. + +_Louisa._ You dare not, on your life you dare not. + +_Willoughby._ Nay, then--I am not to be terrified by threats,--[_Lays +hold of her._] all struggling is in vain; this moment gratifies my +revenge,--away! + +_Louisa._ Off,--let me go! Oh, help! help! + + [_As he is forcing her out, enter FLORIVILLE, half + drunk._] + +_Flor._ "Donne, donne, donne, dow." [_Singing part of an Italian air._] +Oh, this burgundy's a glorious liquor! hey-day! who have we here? + +_Louisa._ Oh, sir! if you have any pity for an injured, helpless woman, +assist one who never knew distress till now! + +_Flor._ Go on, ma'am, go on--both damn'd drunk I perceive. + +_Louisa._ Do not be deaf to my entreaties--do not desert me-- + +_Flor._ Go on, ma'am, go on--I love oratory in a woman. + +_Louisa._ Gracious Heaven! how have I deserved all this? I see, sir, you +avoid me. I see you are indifferent to my fate. + +_Flor._ No, ma'am, you wrong me--but in Italy--observe--we always take +these things coolly--now, sir, will you explain? + +_Willoughby._ No, sir, I will not. + +_Flor._ You will not? + +_Willoughby._ No, sir, and I warn you not to listen to the wild ravings +of a senseless woman--it may be better for you, sir. + +_Flor._ Why so, Prince Prettiman? + +_Willoughby._ No matter, sir, I will not be amused from my purpose. + +_Flor._ You won't, old Pluto, won't you? then, ma'am, observe! you shall +behold my mode of fighting--I'll kill him like a gentleman, and he shall +die without a groan;--you'll be delighted, ma'am--I learnt it all in +Italy.--Come, Belzebub, are you ready? + +_Willoughby._ 'Sdeath! what can I do? he is drunk, perhaps I may disarm +him. + +_Flor._ Now, thou original sin, thou prince of darkness! come out; never +let her see thy black infernal visage more, or by my life I'll pulverize +you--you see, ma'am, no bad orator either--learnt it all in Italy. + +_Willoughby._ Come on, sir. + +_Flor._ Ay, now old Sysiphus, push home--but fight like a gentleman, if +you can, for remember, there is a lady in company--observe, ma'am, +observe; you won't see it again. [_They fight.--FLORIVILLE disarms +WILLOUGHBY._] + +_Flor._ What, vanquished, Tarquin? hah! hah! [_Parrying up and down the +stage by himself._]--You see, ma'am, you see!--Oh! Italy's your only +country!--Now, ma'am, would you have me kill him here, "in Allegro," or +postpone it, that you may have the pleasure of pinking him yourself, "in +Penseroso?" + +_Louisa._ [_Coming near FLORIVILLE, and discovering him._] Floriville, +my deliverer!--generous man!--No, sir, whatever are his crimes, do not +kill him; his greatest punishment will be to live. + +_Flor._ There, then, caitiff, take your sword, and, d'ye hear? +retire;--that black front of thine offends the lady;--if you want +another flourish, you will soon find Floriville--abscond. + +_Willoughby._ Sir, you shall hear from me--distraction! [_Exit._ + +_Flor._ And now, my dear little angel, how can I assist you? I'm very +sorry that I can't help it--I'm cursed drunk, and not proper company for +a lady of your dignity,--but I won't affront you,--I mean to make myself +agreeable, and if I do not--it is the fault of that place, [_Pointing to +his head._] and not of this, [_Pointing to his heart._] + +_Louisa._ Sir, your conduct has endeared you to me for ever, and while I +live, your generosity and valour shall be engraven on my heart. + +_Flor._ Gently, gently, have a care, make no declarations; if you are in +love with me, as I suppose you are, keep it secret,--for at this moment +you might raise a flame that would consume us both;--poor creature! how +fond she is of me! any other time I would indulge her, but not +now--[_Looks at her sometime, then runs, and kisses her hand._]--Oh, you +paragon!--"Angels must paint to look as fair as you."--[_Goes from her +again._]--I'll leave you, or, by Heaven, it will be all over with us. + +_Louisa._ No, no, don't desert me! alas! I have no way left but to +commit myself to your care--if I could bring him to recollect me, all +would be safe. Mr Floriville, don't you know me? + +_Flor._ No, 'would to Heaven I did. + +_Louisa._ What, not Miss Courtney? + +_Flor._ What, Louisa? my brother's idol? + +_Louisa._ Alas! the very same. + +_Flor._ Then may I die, if I don't get out of your debt before I leave +you--where--where shall I conduct you? + +_Louisa._ I know not--return to lady Waitfor't's again, I will not--I +had rather be a wanderer all my life--to lady Walton's there is no +excuse for returning, and I know no friend in Bath I dare intrude +upon.--I have so high an opinion, Mr Floriville, of your honour, that, +notwithstanding your present situation, there is no man on earth I would +sooner confide in;--can you then think of any place where I may rest in +safety for a few hours, and then I will set out for my uncle's in the +country. + +_Flor._ Indeed I cannot, I am a wanderer myself;--I have no home but +what this gentleman is to purchase me [_Taking out his purse._]--you +cannot partake of that. + +_Louisa._ Oh! what will become of me? + +_Flor._ Let me see--I have it--I'll take her to my brother's;--she'll be +safe there, and not a soul shall come near her.--Well, Miss Courtney,--I +have recollected a place where I know you'll be safe--a friend's house, +that will be as secure--nay, don't droop--in Italy we're never +melancholy. + +_Louisa._ Oh, Mr Floriville, to what a hazard has lady Waitfor't exposed +me!--to her perfidy I owe it all--but yonder's that wretch again--pray +let us begone. + +_Flor._ Belzebub again,--no, no, we mustn't stir;--what! an angel fly +from a devil? damme, I'll stay and crush him. + +_Louisa._ Nay, sir, reflect,--'twere madness to remain. + +_Flor._ 'Faith that's true; I believe it's braver to retire,--therefore, +Tarquin, adieu; come, my best angel! I'll fight your battles, and if I +don't sink all your enemies, may I never see Italy again as long as I +live! [_Exeunt._ + + _Enter WILLOUGHBY._ + +_Willoughby._ Ha! gone,--I am sorry for it--I would have seen them--lady +Waitfor't has just left me, and treated me like her slave,--insulted and +derided me; but I'll have done with her for ever,--I'll be her dupe no +more;--she is now gone to Neville's lodgings, under pretence of pursuing +Louisa, but, in fact, to see him, and prevent his leaving Bath;--this I +will write to my lord, and then let him follow, and be witness of her +infamy;--thus, I hope, I shall make some reparation for the wrongs I +have committed, and prove at last I have some sense of virtue. [_Exit._ + + +SCENE II. + + + _NEVILLE'S Lodgings--A Closet in back Scene.--Two + Chairs, and a Table, with Wine on it.--A knocking at the + Door._ + + _Enter PETER, reading a Card._ + +_Peter._ _Vapid presents his compliments to his friend Neville; has +thought of nothing but writing the epilogue for his friend's play since +they parted; he has made great progress, and will wait on him to take +his judgment on it in a few minutes._ If the gentleman should come +soon, I fear my master won't be at home to receive him. + + [_Knocks.--PETER opens the Door, and lets in VAPID._ + +_Vapid._ Well, here it is;--where's Neville? + +_Peter._ Not within, sir. + +_Vapid._ Yes, yes, here it is:--I must see him. + +_Peter._ Sir, he's gone out. + +_Vapid._ Gone out? impossible! + +_Peter._ Impossible! it's very true, sir. + +_Vapid._ Gone out! why, I've brought him the epilogue--the new epilogue +to Mr What's-his-name's comedy; the very best thing I ever wrote in my +life; I knew it would delight him. + +_Peter._ Sir, he has been gone out above these two hours. + +_Vapid._ Then he'll never forgive himself as long as he lives; why, it's +all correct--all chaste! only one half line wanting at the end to make +it complete. + +_Peter._ Indeed, sir, it's very unfortunate. + +_Vapid._ Unfortunate! I wanted to have heard him read it too; when +another person reads it, one often hits on a thought that might +otherwise have escaped; then, perhaps, he would have hit on that cursed +half line, I have so long been working at. + +_Peter._ Sir, if it is not impertinent, and you'd permit me to read it-- + +_Vapid._ You read it! + +_Peter._ Yes, sir, if you'd allow me that honour. + +_Vapid._ 'Faith, I should have no objection,--but wouldn't it lower +one's dignity? No, no, Moliere used to read his plays to his servants, +so I believe all's regular.--Come, sir, begin. + [_PETER reading Epilogue._ + + In ancient times, when agonizing wars, + And bleeding nations, fill'd the world with jars; + When murder, battle, sudden death, prevail'd, + When---- + +_Vapid._ Stop--stop--I have it: not a word for your life; I feel +it--it's coming on--the last line directly--quick! quick! + [_PETER reads._ + + The tyrant totters, and the senate nods, + Die all, die nobly!---- + +_Peter._ Here's something wanting, sir. + +_Vapid._ I know it, say nothing--I have it-- + [_Walks backwards and forwards._ + + The tyrant totters, and the senate nods, + Die all, die nobly!---- + +Oh, damn it! damn it! damn it!--that cursed half line!--I shall never +accomplish it--all so chaste--all so correct,--and to have it marr'd for +want of one half line,--one curst half line! I could almost weep for +disappointment. + +_Peter._ Never mind, sir, don't perplex yourself,--put in any thing. + +_Vapid._ Put in any thing! why, 'tis the last line, and the epilogue +must end with something striking, or it will be no trap for applause--no +trap for applause, after all this fine writing!--Put in any thing!--what +do you mean, sirrah? + +_Peter._ Methinks this is a strange epilogue to a comedy--[_Knock at the +door._]--Perhaps this is my master--[_Looks out._]--no, as I live, 'tis +Mr Floriville and Miss Courtney! she mustn't on any account be seen by +this gentleman. + +_Vapid._ Well, who is it?--"The tyrant totters"-- + +_Peter._ Sir, it's a friend of my master's who has brought a lady with +him--I'm sure you've too much gallantry to interrupt an amour; and, +therefore, you'll be kind enough to get out of the way directly. + +_Vapid._ Get out of the way! what the devil, in the middle of my +composition?--"Die all, die nobly"-- + +_Peter._ Nay, sir, only step for a moment into this closet, and you +shall be released,--now, pray, sir,--pray be prevailed on. + +_Vapid._ Well, let me see--in this closet! why, here's china, zounds! +would you put a live author in a china closet? + +_Peter._ What can I do, sir? there is no way out but that door--get in +here for an instant, and I'll show them into the library--now do, sir. + +_Vapid._ Well, be brief then,--"Die all! die nobly!"--oh! oh! oh! + [_Enters Closet, and FLORIVILLE and LOUISA enter._ + +_Flor._ Hey-day!--my old acquaintance, Peter! where's my brother? + +_Peter._ Sir, he has been out the whole evening. + +_Louisa._ In the same house with Neville!--oh, Heavens! + +_Flor._ Well, Miss Courtney, I hope now you are convinced of your +safety. + +_Louisa._ Yes, sir, but I would it were in any other place; lady +Waitfor't, ere this, is in pursuit of me, and if she discovers me here, +you know too well how much I have to dread. + [_Knock at the Door.--Exit PETER._ + +_Flor._ Don't be alarm'd, there's nothing shall molest you. + +_Louisa._ Oh, sir, you don't know the endless malice of lady +Waitfor't--she will triumph in my misery, and till my lord is convinced +of her duplicity, I see no hope of your brother's happiness, or my own. + + _Enter PETER._ + +_Peter._ Lady Waitfor't is below, inquiring for that lady, or my master. + +_Flor._ For my brother? + +_Peter._ Yes, sir, and my lord has sent to know if Mr Vapid, or her +ladyship, have been here;--he was in bed, but on receiving a letter, got +up, and will be here in an instant. + +_Louisa._ For Heaven's sake, Mr Floriville, let me retire,--I cannot +support the conflict. + +_Flor._ Promise to recall your spirits, and you shall. + +_Louisa._ What I can do I will. + +_Flor._ Then know no apprehension, for, on my life, you shall not be +disturbed. + + [_Leads her to the Door of the Library, and talks in + dumb show._ + +_Vapid._ [_From Closet._] Peter! Peter! can't you release me? + +_Peter._ No, sir, don't move, you'll ruin every thing. + +_Vapid._ Then give me that candle--I have pen and ink--I think I could +finish my epilogue. + +_Peter._ Here, sir. [_Giving Candle._ + +_Vapid._ That curst half line--"Die all"-- [_PETER shuts him in._ + +_Flor._ So, now, the storm begins, and if I don't have some sport with +the enemy--[_Sits at Table, and begins drinking._]--here she comes. + + _Enter LADY WAITFOR'T._ + +_Flor._ Chairs, Peter, chairs,--Sit down, ma'am--sit down--you honour me +exceedingly. + +_Lady._ Where is your brother, sir? I insist on seeing him. + + _Enter LORD SCRATCH._ + +_Lord._ There she is!--in a man's lodgings at midnight--here's +treatment! + +_Lady._ My lord, I came here in search of Louisa, who has been betrayed +from my power. + +_Lord._ Look ye, my lady--read that letter, that's all; read that +letter, and then say, if we sha'n't both cut a figure in the print +shops. + +_Lady._ [_Taking Letter._] Ha! Willoughby's hand! [_Reads._] _Lady +Waitfor't, (I have only time to tell you) is gone to Neville's lodgings, +to meet one she has long had a passion for--follow her, and be convinced +of her duplicity._ Oh, the villain! well, my lord, and pray who is the +man I come to meet? + +_Lord._ Why, who should it be but the stage ruffian? if there was a sofa +in the room, my life on't, he'd pop from behind it.--Zounds! that fellow +will lay straw before my door every nine months! + +_Lady._ This is fortunate.--[_Aside._]--Well, sir, if I discover Louisa, +I hope you'll be convinced I came here to redeem her, and not disgrace +myself. Tell me, sir, immediately, where she is concealed. + [_To FLORIVILLE._ + +_Flor._ Sit down, ma'am--sit down: drink, drink, then we'll talk over +the whole affair--there is no doing business without wine; come, here's +"The glory of gallantry"--I'm sure you'll both drink that. + +_Lady._ No trifling, sir; tell me where she is concealed;--nay, then +I'll examine the apartment myself--[_Goes to Door of Library._]--the +door lock'd! give me the key, sir. + +_Flor._ [_Drinking._] "The glory of gallantry, ma'am." + +_Lord._ Hear me, sir, if the lady's in that apartment, I shall be +convinced that you and your brother are the sole authors of all this +treachery; if she is there, by the honour of my ancestors, she shall be +Willoughby's wife to-morrow morning. + +_Flor._ [_Rising._] Shall she, my lord? Pray, were you ever in Italy? + +_Lord._ Why, coxcomb? + +_Flor._ Because, I'm afraid you've been bitten by a tarantula--you'll +excuse me, but the symptoms are wonderfully alarming--There is a blazing +fury in your eye--a wild emotion in your countenance, and a green spot-- + +_Lord._ Damn the green spot! open that door, and let me see immediately: +I'm a peer, and have a right to look at any thing. + +_Flor._ [_Standing before the Door._] No, sir; this door must not be +open'd. + +_Lord._ Then I'll forget my peerage, and draw my sword. + +_Flor._ [_To LADY WAITFOR'T, who is going to interfere._] Don't be +alarm'd, ma'am, I'll only indulge him for my own amusement--mere trout +fishing, ma'am-- + + _Enter LOUISA, from the Apartment._ + +_Louisa._ Hold! I charge you, hold!--let not my unhappy fate be the +source of more calamities. + +_Lord._ 'Tis she herself:--My lady did not come to meet the madman. + +_Flor._ By the lord, ma'am, you have ruined all. + +_Louisa._ I know, sir, the consequences of this discovery, and I abide +by them.--But what I have done, I can justify, and 'would to Heaven all +here could do the same! + +_Flor._ Indeed, I can't tell--I wish I was in Italy. + +_Lord._ Mark me, madam,--nay, tears are in vain--to-morrow shall make +you the wife of Willoughby; and he shall answer for your follies.--No +reply, sir, [_To FLORIVILLE, who is going to speak._] I wou'dn't hear +the chancellor. + +_Lady._ Now, who is to blame? Oh, virtue is ever sure to meet its +reward!--Come to meet a mad poet, indeed!--My lord, I forgive you only +on condition of your signing a contract to marry me to-morrow, and +Louisa to Willoughby, at the same time. + +_Lord._ I will, thou best of women!--draw it up immediately--and Neville +shall starve for his treachery. + [_LADY WAITFOR'T goes to the Table, and writes._ + +_Louisa._ [_Falling at the feet of LORD SCRATCH._] Hear me, sir, not for +myself, but for a wrong'd friend, I speak:--Mr Neville knows not of my +concealment; on my honour, he is innocent:--if that lady's wrongs must +be avenged, confine the punishment to me--I'll bear it, with patience +bear it. + +_Lord._ Let go!--let go, I say!--Lady Waitfor't, make haste with the +contract. + +_Lady._ It only waits the signature.--Now, my lord. + +_Flor._ Look ye, uncle--she's the cause of all this mischief, and if you +are not lost---- + +_Lord._ Out of my way!--O'd--noise and nonsense!--don't fancy yourselves +in the House of Commons! we're not speaking twenty at a time. Here! give +me the pen--I'll sign directly; and now-- + + [_As he is going to sign, VAPID breaks the China in the + Closet, and rushes out, with the Epilogue in his Hand._ + +_Vapid._ "Die all! die nobly! die like demi-gods!"--Huzza, huzza! 'tis +done! 'tis past! 'tis perfect. + +_Flor._ Huzza!--the poet at last; "Stop him who can!" + +_Lady._ Confusion!--tell me, sir, immediately, what do you mean by this +new insult? + +_Vapid._ "Die all! die nobly! die like demi-gods!"--oh, it's +glorious!--Ah, old Scratch, are you there?--Joy, joy! give me joy!--I've +done your business! the work's past!--the labour's o'er, my boy!--"think +of that, Master Brook--think of that!" + +_Lady._ My lord, I am vilely treated.--I desire you'll insist on an +explanation. + +_Flor._ He can't speak, madam. + [_All this time, my LORD is slowly walking away._ + +_Lady._ How! are you going to leave me, my lord? + +_Vapid._ [_Taking out his Common-place Book._] 'Faith this musn't be +lost!--here's something worth observing. [_Exit LORD SCRATCH._ + +_Lady._ Oh, I shall burst with rage!--Mr Vapid, I desire you'll explain +how you came in that closet.--Why don't you answer me, sir? + +_Vapid._ Your pardon, ma'am, I was taking a note of the affair--and yet +I'm afraid---- + +_Lady._ What are you afraid of, sir? + +_Vapid._ That it has been dramatized before;--it is certainly not a new +case. + +_Lady._ Insupportable!--But I take my leave of you all!--I abandon you +for ever!--I!--oh, I shall go wild! [_Exit in a rage._ + +_Flor._ Ay, ay, follow his lordship--virtue is ever sure to meet its +reward. Now, Mr Vapid, tell us how you came in that closet? + +_Vapid._ 'Faith, I can't.--I believe the servant hurried me there on +your approach. + +_Flor._ Then you didn't come to meet lady Waitfor't? + +_Vapid._ Meet lady Waitfor't!--no, I came to read my epilogue to +Neville; and a wonderful production it is--"The tyrant totters, and the +senate nods." [_Walking about._ + +_Louisa._ To what a strange fatality of circumstances has her character +been exposed!--but vice often finds its punishment for a crime it never +committed, when it escapes for thousands it daily practises. + +_Flor._ Well, Miss Courtney, I hope now your apprehensions are at an +end? + +_Louisa._ Yes, sir, I shall remain for the short time necessary to +prepare for my journey, and beg I may detain you no longer. I'm afraid I +have already been a great intruder. + +_Flor._ No, you have been the occasion of more happiness than ever I +experienced. But you won't leave Bath, till you've seen my brother? + +_Louisa._ Oh, I have been cruelly deceived, Mr Floriville! I have +injured your brother so much, that, though I wish, I almost dread to see +him. + +_Flor._ Then I'll go in search of him,--and if I don't reconcile +you----Come, Mr Vapid, will you walk? + +_Vapid._ With all my heart. + +_Flor._ [_Taking him by the hand._] By Heaven, you are an honest fellow. + +_Vapid._ Madam, good night!--if I can be of any service to you in the +dramatic, or any other way, you may command me. + +_Flor._ Ay, I'll answer for him,--he would die to serve you. + +_Vapid._ Die to serve her! ay, "Die all!--die nobly!--die like +demi-gods!" [_Exeunt._ + + + + +ACT THE FIFTH. + + +SCENE I. + + + _LADY WAITFOR'T'S Apartment._ + + _LADY WAITFOR'T discovered at her Toilette. LETTY + waiting._ + +_Lady._ Mr Vapid not come yet, Letty? + +_Letty._ No, ma'am,--but the servant, who found him at the tavern, said +he would be here immediately. + +_Lady._ I protest, I am almost weary of them all.--[_Noise without._] +See who's there. [_LETTY listens, and returns._ + +_Letty._ Mr Vapid at last:--now, pray your ladyship, insist on his +explaining every thing to my lord. + +_Lady._ Yes; but vilely as he has treated me, I must still be calm. + + _VAPID, putting his head in._ + +Walk in, sir, walk in. + +_Vapid._ No, ma'am, I'd rather stay here. + +_Lady._ I beg you'll be seated, Mr Vapid--I have something of +consequence to impart to you. + + _Enter VAPID, gently._ + +_Vapid._ I'd never have ventured but in hopes of seeing my dear +Marianne. + +_Lady._ Indeed I will not detain you a moment. + +_Vapid._ Very well, ma'am, if that's the case----[_Slowly seating +himself._] It's very alarming. [_Aside._ + +_Lady._ Letty, leave the room, and fasten the door. [_Exit LETTY._ + +_Vapid._ No, no!--don't do that, I beseech you! + +_Lady._ You're very much frightened, Mr Vapid;--I hope you don't suppose +I have any design against you? + +_Vapid._ I don't know, really, ma'am--such things are perfectly +dramatic. + +_Lady._ Well, but, to release you from your fears, I'll tell you why I +have given you this trouble--My business, Mr Vapid, was to converse with +you on the farcical affair that happened at Neville's. + +_Vapid._ Farcical! + +_Lady._ Yes, sir, the farcical affair that happened at Mr Neville's. + +_Vapid._ Farcical?--what, my epilogue, ma'am?--I hope you don't mean to +reflect on that? + +_Lady._ No, sir, far from it--I have no doubt but it is a very elegant +composition. + +_Vapid._ Doubt!--here it is, read it!--the very first production of the +age! A regular climax of poetic beauty!--the last line the _ne plus +ultra_ of genius. + +_Lady._ But, to be serious, Mr Vapid---- + +_Vapid._ Why, I am serious:--and I'll tell you, lady Waitfor't, 'tis the +last line of an epilogue, and the last scene of a comedy, that always +distracts me--'tis the reconciliation of lovers--there's the +difficulty!--You find it so in real life, I dare say? + +_Lady._ Yes.--But Mr Vapid, this affair concerns me excessively, and I +wish to know what is to be done. + +_Vapid._ I'll tell you,--write a play,--and, bad as it may possibly be, +say it's a translation from the French, and interweave a few compliments +on the English, and, my life on't, it does wonders.--Do it, and say you +had the thought from me. + +_Lady._ Sir, do you mean to deride me? + +_Vapid._ No.--But only be cautious in your style--women are in general +apt to indulge that pruriency and warm luxuriancy of fancy they +possess,--but do be careful--be decent--if you are not, I have done with +you. + +_Lady._ Sir, I desire you'll be more respectful.--I don't understand it +at all. [_Rising._ + + _Enter MARIANNE._ + +_Vapid._ Then here comes one that will explain every thing. + + "There's in her all that we believe of Heaven; + Amazing brightness, purity, and truth, + Eternal joy, and everlasting love!" + +My dear sweet little partner, I rejoice to see you! + +_Mari._ And, my dear sweet Mr Poet, I rejoice to see you! + +_Lady._ Provoking!--Have I not told you a thousand times, never to break +in upon me when I am alone? + +_Mari._ Alone, my lady! do you call Mr Vapid nobody, then? + +_Lady._ Suppose I should,--what is that to you? + +_Mari._ Then I have a wrong notion of your nobodies.--I always thought +them harmless, unmeaning things; but Mr Vapid's not so very harmless +either--are you, Mr Vapid? + +_Vapid._ Indeed, ma'am, I am not. + +_Mari._ There now,--I told you so.--Upon my word, you rely too much on +your time of life,--you do indeed. You think, because you're a little +the worse for wear, you may trust yourself any where,--but you're +mistaken--you're not near so bad as you imagine--nay, I don't flatter, +do I, Mr Vapid? + +_Vapid._ Indeed, ma'am, you do not. + +_Lady._ Look ye, miss,--your insolence is not to be borne--you have been +the chief cause of all my perplexities. + +_Mari._ Nay, aunt, don't say that. + +_Lady._ No matter,--your behaviour is shameless, and it is high time I +exerted the authority of a relation--you are a disgrace to me--to +yourself, and your friends--therefore, I am determined to put into +execution a scheme I have long thought of. + +_Mari._ What is it? something pleasant I hope. + +_Lady._ No, you shall retire to a convent, till you take possession of +your fortune. + +_Mari._ A convent! Oh lord! I can't make up my mind to it, now don't, +pray don't think of it--I declare it's quite shocking. + +_Lady._ It is a far better place than you deserve; my resolution is +fixed, and we shall see whether a life of solitude and austerity will +not awaken some sense of shame in you. + +_Mari._ Indeed, I can't bear the thoughts of it.--Oh do speak to her, Mr +Vapid--tell her about the nasty monks, now do,--a convent! mercy! what a +check to the passions! Oh! I can't bear it. [_Weeping._ + +_Vapid._ Gad, here's a sudden touch of tragedy--pray, Lady Waitfor't, +reflect--you can't send a lady to a convent when the theatres are open. + +_Mari._ It will be the death of me! pray, my dear aunt---- + +_Lady._ Not a word--I am determined--to-morrow you shall leave this +country, and then I have done with you for ever. + +_Mari._ Oh! my poor heart! Oh, oh! + +_Vapid._ See! she'll faint! + +_Mari._ Oh! oh! oh! [_MARIANNE faints in LADY WAITFOR'T'S Arms._ + +_Lady._ Oh! I have gone too far, Mr Vapid! + +_Vapid._ I fly, I'll call the servants. Have you got any drops? + +_Lady._ I have some drops in this closet may recover her--hold her a +moment, and for heaven's sake take care of her. [_Exit._ + + [_MARIANNE lays in VAPID'S Arms._ + +_Vapid._ Here's a situation!--Poor girl!--how I pity her! I really loved +her. + +_Mari._ Did you really love me, Mr Vapid? + +_Vapid._ Hey-day! recovered!--here's incident! + +_Mari._ But did you really love me, Mr Vapid? + +_Vapid._ Yes I did,--here's stage effect! + +_Mari._ And would you have really run away with me, Mr Vapid? + +_Vapid._ Yes, I really would. + +_Mari._ Then come along this moment. + +_Vapid._ Hush!--here's the old lady! keep dying, as before, and we'll +effect the business--more equivoque! + + _Enter LADY WAITFOR'T._ + +_Lady._ Well, Mr Vapid, how does she do? lord! she's in strong +convulsions. + +_Vapid._ Yes, ma'am, she's dying; where are the drops? + +_Lady._ Here, sir. + +_Vapid._ There are very few--are there any more of the same kind? + +_Lady._ Yes, plenty. + +_Vapid._ Fetch them,--'tis the only hope--if you have any hartshorn too, +bring a little of that. + +_Lady._ I'm quite shocked! [_Exit._ + +_Mari._ Well, Mr Vapid, now let's run away--come--why what are you +thinking of? + +_Vapid._ My last act, and I fear-- + +_Mari._ What do you fear? + +_Vapid._ That it can't be managed--let me see--we certainly run away, +and she returns--'faith, I must see her return. + +_Mari._ No, no, pray let us begone, think of this another time. + +_Vapid._ So I will--it will do for the fourth, though not for the fifth +act,--therefore, my dear little girl, come away, and we'll live and die +together. + +_Mari._ Die together! + +_Vapid._ Ay, "Die all! die nobly! die like demi-gods!" [_Exeunt._ + + _Enter LADY WAITFOR'T._ + +_Lady._ Here, Mr Vapid--here are the drops!--What, gone!--ruined by a +writer of epilogues!--Oh! I shall burst with disappointment! [_Exit._ + + +SCENE II. + + + _Another Apartment in NEVILLE'S House--In the back + Scene, Glass Doors, with Curtains._ + + _Enter LOUISA COURTNEY._ + +_Louisa._ Still in the same house, yet still afraid to meet him! Oh, +Neville! my superior in every thing; how can I hope for your +forgiveness? while you revealed an affection it had done you credit to +deny, I concealed a passion I might have been proud to confess. + + _Enter VAPID and MARIANNE._ + +_Mari._ Oh! Miss Courtney! my sweet Miss Courtney! Mr Vapid, here, has +run away with me, and I am so frightened for fear of Lady Waitfor't. + +_Louisa._ Yes, she may well alarm you,--she has destroyed my peace for +ever! but have you seen Mr Neville? yet, why do I ask! + +_Vapid._ Seen Mr Neville!--What, doesn't he yet know you are in his +lodgings? + +_Louisa._ No, and I hope never will--the moment his brother returns, I +shall set out for my uncle's, and perhaps never see him more. + +_Vapid._ And why not see him, ma'am? + +_Louisa._ Because I cannot bear the sight of one I have so injured. + +_Vapid._ This'll do--mutual equivoque! equal misunderstanding! my own +case exactly! + +_Mari._ Your own case! Lord! you base man, have you got a young lady in +your lodgings? + +_Vapid._ Ridiculous! don't talk about young ladies at such an awful--the +very situation in my comedy! the last scene to a syllable!--here's an +opportunity of improving the denouement! + + _Enter PETER._ + +_Peter._ Ma'am, my master is returned--the occasion of his delay has +been a long interview with Mr Willoughby,--he doesn't know you are here. + +_Louisa._ Marianne, excuse me--you'll be safe from Lady Waitfor't +here--indeed I'm very ill. + +_Mari._ Nay--where are you going? + +_Louisa._ Alas! any where to avoid him--farewell! and may you enjoy that +happiness I have for ever lost! [_Exit._ + +_Mari._ Poor dear girl! I mustn't leave her thus--Mr Vapid, we won't run +away till something is done for her. + +_Vapid._ Go,--there's a good girl--follow her, and comfort her. + +_Mari._ I will--Lord! if they must be happy in being friends again, what +must I be who make them so! [_Exit._ + +_Vapid._ The picture before me! all from nature,--I must heighten his +distress, for contrast is every thing--Peter, not a word for your life. + + _Enter NEVILLE._ + +_Nev._ Vapid, I am glad to see you--any letter from my brother? + [_To PETER._ + +_Peter._ None, sir. + +_Nev._ Nor message? + +_Peter._ No, sir. + +_Nev._ Then I need doubt no longer--'tis evident he avoids me--cruel, +ungenerous Floriville!-- [_Seats himself._ + +_Vapid._ [_Leaning over his Chair._] Miss Courtney will never see you +again. + +_Nev._ I know it--too well I know it--that, and that alone, makes me +determined to leave this country for ever. + +_Vapid._ You are unhappy then? + +_Nev._ Completely so. + +_Vapid._ Then stop.--[_Sits by him._] She was an angel, Harry. + +_Nev._ Ay, a divinity! + +_Vapid._ And then to lose her! + +_Nev._ [_Rising._] 'Sdeath!--don't torment me!--my griefs are already +beyond bearing. + +_Vapid._ It will do--he's as unhappy as I could wish. + +_Peter._ I can hold no longer--sir! + +_Vapid._ Hush!--you d--d dog, you'll ruin the catastrophe. + +_Peter._ I don't care--I'll tell him every thing--sir!--Mr Neville! + +_Vapid._ You villain!--Do you ever go to a play?--did you ever sit in +the gallery? + +_Peter._ Yes, sir, sometimes. + +_Vapid._ Then know this is all for your good----you'll applaud it some +day or other, you dog--curse it, won't he have happiness enough bye and +bye?---What--you are going abroad, Neville? + +_Nev._ Yes, for ever.--Farewell, Vapid. + +_Vapid._ Farewell, Neville--good night----Now for the effect!--Miss +Courtney is in the next room. + +_Nev._ What! + +_Vapid._ Miss Courtney is in the next room. + +_Nev._ Louisa! is it possible? + +_Vapid._ There's light and shade!--Yes, your brother brought her here, +and she expects him to return every moment. + +_Nev._ My brother! then 'tis he means to marry her--nay, perhaps they +are already married--Heavens! I shall go wild! + +_Vapid._ Don't, don't go wild--that will ruin the denouement. + +_Nev._ No matter--I am resolved--I'll bid her farewell for ever--Vapid, +'tis the last favour I shall ask of you--give her this, [_A Letter._] +and tell her, since I have resented Willoughby's attack on her honour, I +think I may be allowed to vindicate my own; tell her, great as have been +my faults, my truth has still been greater, and wherever I wander-- + +_Vapid._ Here's a flourish, now!--why you misunderstand--she is not +married, nor going to be married. + +_Nev._ Come, this is no time for raillery. + +_Vapid._ Raillery!--why, I'm serious--serious as the fifth act--she is +now weeping on your account. + +_Nev._ Pr'ythee leave fooling, it will produce no effect, believe me. + +_Vapid._ Won't it? it will produce a very great effect though, believe +me. Zounds! go to her--preserve the unity of action,--marry her +directly, and if the catastrophe does not conclude with spirit, damn my +comedy--damn my comedy--that's all, damn my comedy. + +_Nev._ 'Would to Heaven you were in earnest! + +_Vapid._ Earnest! why there it is now! the women, dear creatures, are +always ready enough to produce effect--but the men are so curst +undramatic.--Go to her, I tell you, go to her. + [_Exit NEVILLE.--VAPID stands aside._ + + _Enter LORD SCRATCH and FLORIVILLE._ + +_Lord._ That curst dramatic maniac,--if I see him again---- + +_Flor._ My dear uncle, consent to Harry's marriage, and depend on it he +shall trouble you no more. + +_Lord._ I tell you again, sir, I will not. + +_Flor._ Will you give any hopes of future consent? + +_Lord._ By the word of a peer, I will not. + + [_VAPID, coming forward, touching LORD SCRATCH on the + Shoulder, and writing in common-place book._ + +_Vapid._ Master Brook, let me persuade you. + +_Lord._ Flames and firebrands, the fiend again! + +_Vapid._ Give consent, and I'll give Neville a fortune--he shall have +the entire profit of the different plays in which I intend to have the +honour of introducing yourself and the old Lady Hurlothrumbo. + +_Lord._ Oh, that I was not a peer! if I was any thing else--but, thank +Heaven, Louisa is more averse to the match than myself. + +_Vapid._ Is she? + +_Lord._ Yes, she knows his falsehood, and despises him. + +_Vapid._ What, you are confident of it? + +_Lord._ Out of my way, sir,--I'll not answer you,--I'll go take her to +town directly.--Out of my way, sir. + +_Vapid._ Stop--you're wrong, Master Brook--she's in that room. + +_Lord._ Where?--behind me? + +_Vapid._ Yes--there--there! [_Pointing._] Now for it!--what an effect! + + [_LORD S. opens the Glass Doors, and discovers NEVILLE + kneeling to LOUISA. MARIANNE with them._ + +_Vapid._ There, Peter! there's catastrophe!--Shakspeare's invention +nothing!--Applaud it, you dog--clap, clap, Peter, clap! + +_Lord._ What are you at, you impudent rascal?--get out of the room. + [_Exit PETER._ + +_Vapid._ I should set this down--I may forget. + +_Mari._ Lord! he has a very bad memory,--I hope he won't forget our +marriage. + +_Nev._ Oh! Louisa, what am I to think? + +_Louisa._ That I have wronged thee, Neville! [_Embracing._ + +_Flor._ My dear Harry, let this be my apology for not having seen you +before. [_Giving him a Paper._] Miss Courtney, ten thousand joys;--could +I have found my brother, you should have seen him sooner. + +_Nev._ Why, here is a deed of gift of half your estate! + +_Flor._ I know it, but say nothing. When you gave me money, five years +ago, did I say any thing?--no, I forgot it as soon as it was over; and +should never have recollected, at this moment, but for my lord's +inhumanity.--Uncle, I thank you,--you have made me the happiest man +alive. + +_Lord._ Don't perplex me;--what a compound of folly and generosity! + +_Mari._ Uncle-in-law, what are your feelings on this occasion?--as my +aunt says. + +_Lord._ Feelings!--I never knew a peer had any. + +_Mari._ Didn't you? + +_Lord._ No; but now I find the contrary: I begin to think I've a heart +like other men. It's better to atone for an error, than persist in +one--therefore give me that deed, Neville----there, sir, [_Giving it to +FLORIVILLE._] do you think nobody has estates but yourself?--Louisa and +her fortune are your own, Neville; and after my death, you shall have +all mine:--and now there's a cursed burden off my mind. + +_Mari._ Now, you're a dear creature! and I won't marry,--that's what I +won't, without consulting you. + +_Lord._ You marry! why, who should you marry?--And pray, how came you +here? + +_Mari._ A gentleman run away with me;--he is now in the room. + +_Lord._ In the room! what, Floriville? + +_Mari._ No, behind you. [_Pointing to VAPID, who is writing at a Table._ + +_Lord._ Ghosts and spectres! my evil genius! + +_Mari._ Come, my dear, haven't you almost finished? [_VAPID rises._ + +_Vapid._ Yes, the denouement is complete, and now, Mrs Vapid, I resign +myself to love and you. + +_Mari._ Come, give consent, my lord,--my husband will get money, though +I have none. + +_Lord._ None!--I dare say he can tell you, you will have twelve thousand +pounds in less than a year. + +_Vapid._ That's a new incident! + +_Mari._ Shall I? then 'faith, Mr Vapid, we'll build a theatre of our +own! you shall write plays, and I'll act them. + + _Enter ENNUI._ + +_Ennui._ I've an idea--I give you joy, Neville.--I mean to kill time, by +living single; and, therefore, I hope, the lady and the borough may be +yours. + +_Mari._ Mr Ennui, I hope you'll forgive me, and Sir Harry Hustle, the +fatigue we occasioned you? + +_Ennui._ Yaw, aw--don't mention it.--The very recollection makes me +faint.--In fact--my lord, I just met one of Lady Waitfor't's servants, +who tells me she has left Bath in a rage. + +_Flor._ I am afraid she has escaped too easily. + +_Lord._ Oh, never think of her! I can answer for her punishment being +adequate to her crimes--Willoughby has told me all her schemes,--and if +ever I hear her name again, may I lose my peerage, and dress like a +gentleman. + +_Ennui._ My lord--I've an idea-- + +_Vapid._ Sir, I beg your pardon; but really, if you have an idea, I will +trouble you to spare it me for my comedy. + +_Ennui._ In fact--I don't comprehend. I have read your "die-all" +epilogue, and-- + +_Vapid._ Oh, then I don't wonder at your having ideas! + +_Lord._ Oh, poor fellow! he's always talking about what he never +has.--Neville, my boy, may you be as happy as I am. + +_Flor._ Ay, I'll answer for his happiness by my own.--Miss Courtney, +notwithstanding my brother, I will "still live in your eye,--die in your +lap--and be buried in your heart:" and, moreover, I will stay with you +both in England. + +_Louisa._ Yes, Floriville, if you would behold pure, unsullied love, +never travel out of this country. Depend on't, + + No foreign climes such high examples prove, + Of wedded pleasure, or connubial love. + Long in this land have joys domestic grown, + Nursed in the cottage--cherish'd on the throne. + + +THE END. + + + + +ORIGINAL OCTAVO EDITIONS OF PLAYS, &c. +PRINTED FOR +LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN. + + +BY GEORGE COLMAN, THE YOUNGER. + +The Mountaineers, 2s 6d +Inkle and Yarico, 2s 6d +Poor Gentleman, 2s 6d +Who wants a Guinea? 2s 6d +John Bull, a Comedy, 2s 6d +Ways and Means, 2s + + +BY RICHARD CUMBERLAND, ESQ. + +The Jew, a Comedy, 2s 6d +West Indian, 2s 6d. +Wheel of Fortune, 2s 6d +First Love, a Comedy, 2s 6d +False Impressions, 2s 6d +Mysterious Husband, 2s 6d + + +BY THOMAS DIBDIN, ESQ. + +School for Prejudice, 2s 6d +Il Bondocani; or, the Caliph Robber, 1s 6d +St David's Day, 1s 6d +The Birth Day, a Comedy, from Kotzebue, 2s +The Jew and the Doctor, a Farce, 1s 6d +The Cabinet, 2s 6d +The English Fleet, in 1342; an Historical Comic Opera, 2s 6d +The Will for the Deed, a Comedy, 2s +Family Quarrels, 2s 6d + + +BY MRS INCHBALD. + +Lovers' Vows, a Play, 2s 6d +Every one has his Fault, a Comedy, 2s 6d +To Marry, or not to Marry, a Comedy, 2s 6d +Wives as they Were, 2s 6d +Such Things are, 2s 6d +Child of Nature, 2s +Wedding Day, a Comedy, in two Acts, 1s 6d + + +REVISED BY J. 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