tation was so fair in the world, that old Sea-1 Sir J. That's what I wanted to debate with land, the great India merchant, has offered his you. I have said nothing to him yet. But only daughter, and sole heiress to that vast lookye, Humphrey, if there is so much in this estate of his, as a wife for him. You may be amour of his, that he denies upon my sumsure I made no difficulties; the match was mons to marry, I have cause enough to be agreed on, and this very day named for the offended; and then, by my insisting upon bis wedding. marrying to-day, I shall know how far he is Hum. What hinders the proceeding? engaged to this lady in masquerade, and from Sir J. Don't interrupt me. You know I was, thence only shall be able to take my measures. last Thursday, at the masquerade; my son, In the mean time, I would have you find out you may remember, soon found us out. He how far that rogue, his man, is let into his knew his grandfather's habit, which I then wore; secret: he, I know, will play tricks as much and though it was in the mode of the last to cross me as to serve his master. age, yet the maskers, you know, followed us Hum. Why do you think so of him, sir? as if we had been the most monstrous figures I believe he is no worse than I was for you in that whole assembly. at your son's age.

Hum, I remember indeed a young man of quality, in the habit of a clown, that was particularly troublesome.

Sir J. I see it in the rascal's looks. But I have dwelt on these things too long: I'll go to my son immediately; and while I'm gone, your Sir J. Right; he was too much what he part is to convince his rogue, Tom, that I am seemed to be. You remember how imperti- in earnest. I'll leave him to you. [Exit. nently he followed and teased us, and would Hum. Well, though this father and son know who we were. live as well together as possible, yet their fear

Hum. I know he has a mind to come into of giving each other pain is attended with that particular. [Aside. constant, mutual uneasiness. I am sure I have Sir J. Ay, he followed us till the gentle enough to do to be honest, and yet keep well man, who led the lady in the Indian mantle, with them both; but they know I love 'em, presented that gay creature to the rustic, and and that makes the task less painful however.— bid him (like Cymon in the fable) grow po- Oh, here's the prince of poor coxcombs, the lite, by falling in love, and let that worthy representative of all the better fed than taught.--old gentleman alone, meaning me. The clown Ho, ho, Tom! whither so gay and so airy was not reform'd, but rudely persisted, and this morning? offered to force off my mask: with that the Enter Tom, singing. gentleman, throwing off his own, appeared to Tom. Sir, we servants of single gentlemen be my sen; and in his concern for me, tore are another kind of people than you domestic, off that of the nobleman. At this they seized ordinary drudges, that do business; we are each other, the company called the guards, raised above you: the pleasures of board wages, and in the surprise the lady swooned away; tavern dinners, and many a clear gain-vails, upon which my son quitted his adversary, and alas! you never heard or dreamt of. had now no care but of the lady; when, Hum. Thou hast follies and vices enough raising her in his arms, "Art thou gone," cried for a man of ten thousand a year, though it he, "for ever?-Forbid it, heaven!"-She re- is but as t'other day that I sent for you to vives at his known voice, and with the most town to put you into Mr. Sealand's family, familiar, though modest, gesture hangs in sa- that you might learn a little before I put you fety over his shoulders, weeping; but wept as to my young master, who is too gentle for in the arms of one before whom she could training such a rude thing as you were into give herself a loose, were she not under ob- proper obedience. You then pulled off your servation. While she hides fer face in his hat to every one you met in the street, like a neck, he carefully conveys her from the company. bashful, great, awkward cub as you were. But Hum. I have observed this accident has your great oaken cudgel, when you were a dwelt upon you very strongly. booby, became you much better than that Sir J. Her uncommon air, her noble modesty, dangling stick at your button, now you are a the dignity of her person, and the occasion fop, that's fit for nothing except it hangs there itself, drew the whole assembly together; and to be ready for your master's hand when I soon heard it buzzed about she was the are impertinent.

you

adopted daughter of a famous sea officer, who Tom. Uncle Humphrey, you know my master had serv'd in France. Now this unexpected scorns to strike his servants. You talk as if and public discovery of my son's so deep the world was now just as it was when my concern for herold master and you were in your youth; when Hum. Was what, I suppose, alarm'd Mr. you went to dinner because it was so much Sealand, in behalf of his daughter, to break o'clock; when the great blow was given in off the match. the hall at the pantry door, and all the family Sir J. You are right: he came to me yester- came out of their holes, in such strange dresses day, and said he thought himself disengaged and formal faces as you see in the pictures from the bargain, being credibly informed my in our long gallery in the country, son was already married, or worse, to the Hum. Why, you wild rogue! lady at the masquerade. I palliated matters, Tom. You could not fall to your dinner and insisted on our agreement; but we par- till a formal fellow, in a black gown, said ted with little less than a direct breach be- something over the meat 2); as if the cook had not made it ready enough.

tween us.

Hum. Well, sir, and what notice bave you taken of all this to my young master?

1) A prayer used generally to be said before setting down to dinner.

Hum. Sirrah, who do you prate after-de-operas, and ridottoes, for the winter; the Parks spising men of sacred characters? I hope you and Bellsize for our summer diversions; and, never heard my young master talk so like a "Lard!" says she, "you are so wild, but you profligate? have a world of humour." Tom. Sir, I say you put upon me, when I Hum. Coxcomb! Well, but why don't you first came to town, about being orderly, and run with your master's letter to Mrs. Lucinda, the doctrine of wearing shams to make linen as he order'd you? last clean a fortnight, keeping my clothes fresh, and wearing a frock within doors.

Tom. Because Mrs. Lucinda is not so easily come at as you think for.

Hum. Sirrah, I gave you those lessons be- Hum. Not easily come at? Why, sir, are cause I supposed at that time your master not her father and my old master agreed that and you might have dined at home every day, she and Mr. Bevil are to be one flesh before and cost you nothing; then you might have to-morrow morning?

made a good family servant: but the gang Tom. It's no matter for that: her mother, you have frequented since at chocolate-houses it seems, Mrs. Sealand, has not agreed to it, and taverns, in a continual round of noise and you must know, Mr. Humphrey, that in and extravagancethat family the grey mare is the better horse1). Hum. What dost thou mean?

Tom. I don't know what you heavy inmates call noise and extravagance: but we Tom. In one word, Mrs. Sealand pretends gentlemen who are well fed and cut a figure, to have a will of her own, and has provided sir, think it a fine life, and that we must be a relation of hers, a stiff-starched philosopher, very pretty fellows who are kept only to be and a wise fool, for her daughter; for which looked at. reason, for these ten days past, she has sufHum. Very well, sir, I hope the fashion of fered no message or letter from my master being lewd and extravagant, despising of de- to come near her. cency and order, is almost at an end, since Hum. And where had you this intelligence? it is arrived at persons of your quality. Tom. From a foolish fond soul, that can Tom. Master Humphrey, ha, ha! you were keep nothing from me; one that will deliver an unhappy lad to be sent up to town in this letter too, if she is rightly managed. such queer days as you were. Why now, Hum. What, her pretty handmaid, Mrs. sir, the lackeys are the men of pleasure of Phillis?

the age, the top gamesters; and many a laced Tom. Even she, sir. This is the very hour, coat about town have had their education in you know, she usually comes hither, under a our party-coloured regiment. We are false pretence of a visit to our housekeeper forsooth, lovers, have a taste of music, poetry, billet-but in reality to have a glance atdoux, dress, politics, ruin damsels; and when we are weary of this lewd town, and have a mind to take up, whip into our masters' wigs, and marry fortunes.

Hum. Hey-day!

Hum. Your sweet face, I warrant you. Tom. Nothing else in nature. You must know I love to fret and play with the little

wanton.

Hum. Play with the little wanton! What Tom. Nay, sir, our order is carried up to will this world come to? the highest dignities and distinctions: step but Tom. I met her this morning in a new into the Painted Chamber, and by our titles manteau and petticoat, not a bit the worse you'd take us all for men of quality! then for her lady's wearing, and she has always again, come down to the Court of Requests, new thoughts and new airs with new clothes; and you shall see us all laying our broken then she never fails to steal some glance or heads together for the good of the nation; and gesture from every visitant at their house, and though we never carry a question nemine is indeed the whole town of coquettes al secontradicente, yet this I can say with a safe cond-hand. But here she comes; in one motion conscience (and I wish every gentleman of she speaks and describes herself better than our cloth could lay his hand upon his heart all the words in the world can. and say the same), that I never took so much Hum. Then I hope, dear sir! when your as a single mug of beer for my vote in all own affair is over, you will be so good as to my life. mind your master's with her. Hum. Sirrah, there is no enduring your Tom. Dear Humphrey! you know my master extravagance; I'll hear you prate no longer: is my friend; and those are people I never forget I wanted to see you to inquire how things Hum. Sauciness itself! but I'll leave you to go with your master, as far as you under- do your best for him. stand them. I suppose he knows he is to be! married to-day?

Enter PHILLIS.

Tom. Ay, sir, he knows it, and is dressed Phil. Oh, Mr. Thomas, is Mrs. Sugarkey as gay as the sun; but between you and I, at home? Lard! one is almost ashamed to my dear! he has a very heavy heart under all pass along the streets. The town is quite that gaiety. As soon as he was dressed I empty, and nobody of fashion left in it; and retired, but overheard him sigh in the most the ordinary people do so stare to see y heavy manner. He walked thoughtfully to and thing dress'd like a woman of condition pass fro in the room, then went into his closet: by. Alas! alas! it is a sad thing to walk. Oh, when he came out he gave me this for his fortune, fortune! mistress, whose maid you know

Hum. Is passionately fond of your fine person. Tom. The poor fool is so tender, and loves to hear me talk of the world, and the plays,

Tom. What! a sad thing to walk? Why, madam Phillis, do you wish yourself lame? Phil. No, Mr. Thomas; but I wish I were 1) The lady is master in the family.

:

generally carried in a cuach or a chair, and hands. [He pulls out a Purse, she eyes it. of a fortune neither to stand nor go, but to Phil. What pretence have I to what is in totter or slide, to be shortsighted or stare, to your hands, Mr. Thomas? fleer in the face, to look distant, to observe,

Tom. As thus: there are hours you know to overlook, yet all become me; and if I was when a lady is neither pleased nor displeased, rich I could twire and loll as well as the best neither sick nor well, when she lolls or loiters, of them. Oh, Tom, Tom! is it not a pity that when she is without desires, from having more you should be so great a coxcomb, and I so of every thing than she knows what to do with. great a coquette, and yet be such poor devils

as we are?

Tom. Mrs. Phillis, I am your humble servant for that.

Phil. Well, what then?

Tom. When she has not life enough to keep her bright eyes quite open to look at her own dear image in the glass.

Phil. Explain thyself, and don't be so fond of thy own prating.

Phil. Yes, Mr. Thomas, I know how much you are my humble servant, and know what you said to Mrs. Judy, upon seeing her in Tom. There are also prosperous and goodone of her lady's cast manteaus-that any one natured moments; as when a knot or a patch would have thought her the lady, and that is happily fixed, when the complexion partishe had ordered the other to wear it till it sat cularly flourishes. easy (for now only it was becoming); to my lady it was only a covering, to Mrs. Judy it was a habit. This you said after somebody or other. Oh, Tom, Tom! thou art as false and as base as the best gentleman of them all: but you, wretch! talk to me no more on the old odious subject: don't, I say.

road.

a

Phil. Well, what then? I have not patience! Tom, Why then, or on the like occasions we servants who have skill to know how to time business, see when such a pretty folded thing as this [Shows Letter] may be presented, laid, or dropped, as best suits the present humour. And, madam, because it is a Tom. I know not how to resist your com- long wearisome journey to run through all mands, madam. the several stages of a lady's temper, my master, [In a submissive Tone, retiring. who is the most reasonable man in the world, Phil. Commands about parting are grown presents you this to bear your charges on the mighty easy to you of late. [Gives her the Purse. Phil. Now you think me a corrupt hussy. Tom. O fie! I only think you'll take the letter. Phil. Nay, I know you do; but I know own innocence: I take it for my mistress's sake. Tom. I know it, my pretty one! I know it. Phil. Yes, I say I do it because I would not have my mistress deluded by one who gives no proof of his passion: but I'll talk more of this as you see me on my way home. No, Tom; I assure thee I take this trash of thy master's, not for the value of the thing, but as it convinces me he has a true respect for my mistress. I remember a verse to the purpose

Tom. Oh, I have her! I have nettled and put her into the right temper to be wrought upon and set a prating. [Aside] Why, truly, to be plain with you, Mrs. Phillis, I can take little comfort of late in frequenting your house. Phil. Pray, Mr. Thomas, what is it all of a sudden offends your nicety at our house?

Tom. I don't care to speak particulars, but I dislike the whole.

Phil. I thank you, sir; I am a part of that whole.

Tom. Mistake me not, good Phillis. Phil. Good Phillis! saucy enough. however

But,

Tom. I say it is that thou art a part which gives me pain for the disposition of the whole. You must know, madam, to be serious, I am a man at the bottom of prodigious nice honour. You are too much exposed to company at your house. To be plain, I don't like so many, that would be your mistress's lovers, whispering to you.

my

They may be false who languish and complain, But they who part with money never feign. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-BEVIL'S Lodgings. BEVIL discovered, reading. Bevil. These moral writers practise virtue Phil. Don't think to put that upon me. You after death. This charming vision of Mirza!say this because I wrung you to the heart such an author consulted in a morning sets when I touched your guilty conscience about the spirits for the vicissitudes of the day better Judy. than the glass does a man's person. But what

my heart!

Tom. Ah, Phillis, Phillis! if you but knew a day have I to go through! to put on an easy look with an aching heart! If this lady Phil. I know too much on't. my father urges me to marry should not reTom. Don't disparage your charms, good fuse me, my dilemma is insupportable. But Phillis, with jealousy of so worthless an ob- why should I fear it? is not she in equal ject; besides she is a poor hussy; and if you distress with me? has not the letter I have doubt the sincerity of my love, you will allow sent her this morning, confessed my inclination me true to my interest. You are a fortune, to another? nay, have I not moral assurances Phillisof her engagements too to my friend Myrtle? Phil. What would the fop be at now? It's impossible but she must give in to it; for [Aside] In good time indeed you shall be sure to be denied is a favour any man may setting up for a fortune. pretend to. It must be so. Well then, with Tom. Dear Mrs. Phillis! you have such a the assurance of being rejected, I think I may spirit, that we shall never be dull in marriage confidently say to my father I am ready to when we come together. But I tell you you marry her; then let me resolve upon (what I are a fortune, and you have an estate in my am not very good at) an honest dissimulation.

Enter Toм. and I know his violent inclinations for the Tom. Sir John Bevil, sir, is in the next room. match; I must betray neither, and yet deceive Bevil. Dunce! why did you not bring him in? you both, for your common good. Heaven Tom. I told him, sir, you were in your closet. grant a good end of this matter: but there is Bevil. I thought you had known, sir, it was a lady, sir, that gives your father much trouble my duty to see my father any where.

and sorrow. You'll pardon me.

[Going himself to the Door. Bevil. Humphrey, I know thou art a friend Tom. The devil's in my master! he has al- to both, and in that confidence I dare tell thee. ways more wit than I have. [Aside. That lady-is a woman of honour and virtue. You may assure yourself I never will marry Enter SIR JOHN BEVIL, introduced by BEVIL. without my father's consent; but give me leave Bevil. Sir, you are the most gallant, the to say too, this declaration does not come up most complaisant of all parents. Sure 'tis not to a promise that I will take whomsoever he a compliment to say these lodgings are yours. pleases. Why would you not walk in, sir? Hum. My dear master! were I but worthy Sir J. I was loath to interrupt you unsea- to know this secret that so near concerns you, sonably on your wedding-day. my life, my all, should be engaged to serve Bevil. One to whom I ani beholden for my you. This, sir, I dare promise, that I am sure birthday might have used less ceremony. I will and can be secret: your trust at worst Sir J. Well, son, I have intelligence you but leaves you where you were; and if I canhave writ to your mistress this morning. It not serve you, I will at once be plain, and would please my curiosity to know the con- tell you so. tents of a wedding-day letter, for courtship must theu be over.

Bevil. I assure you, sir, there was no insolence in it, upon the prospect of such a vast fortune's being added to our family, but much acknowledgment of the lady's great desert. Sir J. But, dear Jack, are you in earnest in all this? and will you really marry her? Bevil. Did I ever disobey any command of yours, sir? nay, any inclination that I saw you bent upon? If the lady is dressed and ready, you see I am. I suppose the lawyers are ready too.

Enter HUMPHREY.

Bevil. That's all I ask. Thou hast made it now my interest to trust thee. Be patient then, and hear the story of my heart. Hum. I am all attention, sir.

Bevil. You may remember, Humphrey, that in my last travels my father grew uneasy at my making so long a stay at Toulon. Hum. I remember it; he was apprehensive some woman had laid hold of you.

Bevil. His fears were just; for there I first saw this lady: she is of English birth: ber father's name was Danvers, a younger brother of an ancient family, and originally an eminent merchant of Bristol, who upon repeated misfortunes was reduced to go privately to the

Hum. Sir, Mr. Sealand is at the coffee-Indies. In this retreat, Providence again grew house, and has sent to speak with you. favourable to his industry, and in six years

you say.

Sir J. Oh! that's well! then I warrant the time restored him to his former fortunes. On lawyers are ready. Son, you'll be in the way, this he sent directions over that his wife and little family should follow him to the Indies. Bevil. If you please, sir, I'll take a chair His wife, impatient to obey such welcome and go to Mr. Sealand's; where the young orders, would not wait the leisure of a conlady and I will wait your leisure. voy 1), but took the first occasion of a single Sir J. By no means; the old fellow will he ship; and with her husband's sister only and so vain if he sees

Bevil. Ay; but the young lady, sir, will think me so indifferent

Hum. Ay, there you are right. Press your readiness to go to the bride-he won't let you. [Apart to Bevil.

Bevil. Are you sure of that?

this daughter, then scarce seven years old, undertook the fatal voyage; for here, poor creature, she lost her liberty and life: she and her family, with all they had, were unfortunately taken by a privateer from Toulon. Being thus made a prisoner, though as such not ill-treated, yet the fright, the shock, and the cruel disappointment, seized with such violence upon her unhealthy frame, that she sickened, pined, and died at sea.

[Apart to Humphrey. Hum. How he likes being prevented! [Aside. Sir J. No, no; you are an hour or two too early; [Looking on his Watch] besides, this Hum. Poor soul! Oh, the helpless infatt! Sealand is a moody old fellow. There's no Bevil. Her sister yet survived, and had the dealing with some people, but by managing care of her: the captain too proved to have with indifference. We must leave to him the humanity, and became a father to her; for conduct of this day; it is the last of his com- having married himself an English woms, manding his daughter. and being childless, he brought home U Bevil. Sir, he can't take it ill that I am im-Toulon this her little countrywoman, this ar patient to be hers. phan I may call her, presenting her with al Sir J. Well, son, I'll go myself and take her dead mother's moveables of value se bas orders in your affair. You'll be in the way wife, to be educated as his own spied I suppose, if I send to you: I leave your old daughter..

friend with you. Humphrey, don't let him Hum. Fortune here seemed again to stile stir, d'ye hear. Your servant, your servant. on her.

[Exit.

sailing together in a great number, make what is caused

Hum. I have a sad time on't, sir, between 1) A ship of war to protect the merchant-vessels, which you and my master; I see you are unwilling,

a convoy.

Bevil. Only to make her frowns more ter- Bevil. Whenever he pleases Hold, Tom; rible; for in his height of fortune this captain did you receive no answer to my letter? too, her benefactor, unfortunately was killed Tom. Sir, I was desired to call again; for at sea; and dying intestate, his estate fell wholly I was told her mother would not let her be to an advocate, his brother, who coming soon out of her sight; but about an hour hence to take possession, there found among his Mrs. Phillis said I should have one. other riches this blooming virgin at his mercy. Bevil. Very well.

Hum. He durst not sure abuse his power? Hum. Sir, I will take another opportunity; Bevil. No wonder if his pampered blood in the mean time I only think it proper to was fired at the sight of her. In short he tell you, that from a secret I know, you may loved; but when all arts and gentle means appear to your father as forward as you please had failed to move, he offered too his menaces to marry Lucinda, without the least hazard in vain, denouncing vengeance on her cruelty, of its coming to a conclusion.-Sir, your most demanding her to account for all her mainte- obedient servant.

nance from her childhood, seized on her little Bevil. Honest Humphrey, continue but my fortune as his own inheritance, and was dragging friend in this exigence, and you shall always her by violence to prison, when Providence find me yours. [Exit Humphrey] I long to at the instant interposed, and sent me, by hear how my letter has succeeded with Lumiracle, to relieve her. cinda.-Poor Myrtle! what terrors must be be Hum. 'Twas Providence indeed! But pray, in all this while!-Since he knows she is ofsir, after all this trouble, how came this lady fered to me, and refused to him, there is no at last to England? conversing or taking any measures with him Becil. The disappointed advocate, finding for his own service. But I ought to bear she had so unexpected a support, on cooler with my friend, and use him as one in adversity. thoughts descended to a composition, which All his disquietudes by my own I prove, I without her knowledge secretly discharged. For none exceeds perplexity in love. [Exeunt. Hum. That generous concealment made the obligation double.

Bevil. Having thus obtained her liberty, I prevailed, not without some difficulty, to see her safe to England; where we no sooner arrived but my father, jealous of my being imprudently engaged, immediately proposed this other fatal match that hangs upon my quiet, Hum. I find, sir, you are irrecoverably fixed upon this lady.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-The same.

Enter BEVIL and Tom.

Tom. Sir, Mr. Myrtle.

Bevil. Very well. Do you step again, and wait for an answer to my letter. [Exit Tom. Enter MYRTLE,

Bevil. As my vital life dwells in my heart; Well, Charles, why so much care in thy and yet you see what I do to please my father; countenance? is there any thing in this world walk in this pageantry of dress, this splendid deserves it? you who used to be so gay, so covering of sorrow. But, Humphrey, you have open, so vacant! your lesson. Hum. Now, sir, I have but one material plexions: you, who us'd to be much the graver question.

Bevil. Ask it freely.

Myr. I think we have of late chang'd com

miatt, are now all air in your behaviour.But the cause of my concern may, for aught Hum. Is it then your own passion for this I know, be the same object that gives you all secret lady, or hers for you, that gives you this satisfaction. In a word, I am told that this aversion to the match your father has you are this very day (and your dress conproposed you? firms me in it) to be married to Lucinda. Bevil. I shall appear, Humphrey, more ro- Bevil. You are not misinformed.-Nay, put mantic in my answer than in all the rest of not on the terrors of a rival till you hear me my story; for though I dote on her to death, out. I shall disoblige the best of fathers if I and have no little reason to believe she has don't seem ready to marry Lucinda; and you the same thoughts for me, yet in all my ac- know I have ever told you, you might make quaintance and utmost privacies with her use of my secret resolution never to marry never once directly told her that I loved. her for your own service as you please; but Hum. How was it possible to avoid it? I am now driven to the extremity of immeBecil. My tender obligations to my father diately refusing or complying, unless you help have laid so inviolable a restraint upon my me to escape the match.

conduct, that till I have his consent to speak, Myr. Escape, sir! neither her merit nor her I am determined on that subject to be dumb fortune are below your acceptance.-Escaping, for ever.-An honourable retreat shall always do you call it?

be at least within my power, however fortune Bevil. Dear sir! do you wish I should demay dispose of me; the lady may repine sire the match? perhaps, but never shall reproach me.

Myr. No but such is my humorous and Hum. Well, sir, to your praise be it spoken, sickly state of mind, since it has been able to you are certainly the most unfashionable lover relish nothing but Lucinda, that, though I must in Great Britain.

Re-enter TOM.

Tom. Sir, Mr. Myrtle's at the next door, and if you are at leisure, would be glad to wait on you.

owe my happiness to your aversion to this marriage, I can't bear to hear her spoken of with levity or unconcern.

Bevil. Pardon me, sir, I shall transgress that way no more. She has understanding, beauty, shape, complexion, wit