Enter Colonel OLDBOY and HARMAN. Col. Dy, where are you? What, is this a time to be walking in the garden? The coach has been ready this half hour, and your mamma is waiting for you. Dian. Í am learning astronomy, Sir; do you know, papa, that the moon is inhabited? Col. Hussey! you are half a lunatic yourself; come here; things have just gone as I imagined they would— the girl has refused your brother; I knew he must disgust her. Dian. Women will want taste now and then, Sir. Har. Well, I have had a long conference with your father about the elopement, and he continues firm in his opinion that I ought to attempt it: in short, all the necessary operations are settled between us, and I am to leave his house to-morrow morning, if I can but persuade the young lady Dian. Ay, but I hope the young lady will have more sense-How can you teaze me with your nonsense? Come, Sir, isn't it time for us to go in? Her ladyship will be impatient. Col. Friend Lionel, good night to you; Miss Clarissa, my dear, though I am father to the puppy who has displeased you, yet let me tell you, you served him right and I thank you for it. O what a night is here for love! To the sighing breeze, Fountains tinkling, Stars a twinkling: Dian. O what a night is here for love! Har. So may the morn propitious prove. As well as night, A lover's hopes may bless. O what a night is here for love! But vain the charms of nature prove! Nor nightingales among the trees, Nor twinkling stars, nor sighing breeze, Nor murmuring streams, Nor Phoebe's beams, Delight, unless the heart's at ease. [Exeunt. ACT III. SCENE I. A Room in Colonel OLDBOY's House. HARMAN enters, with his hat, boots, and whip, followed by DIANA. Dian. Pry'thee, hear me. Har. My dear, what would you say? Dian. I am afraid of the step we are going to take; indeed I am-'Tis true my father is the contriver of it; but, really, on consideration, I think I should appear, less culpable if he was not so; I am at once criminal myself, and rendering him ridiculous. Har. Do you love me? Dian. Suppose I do, you give me a very ill proof of your love for me, when you would take advantage of my tenderness to blind my reason. How can you have so little regard for my honour, as to sacrifice it to a vain triumph? For it is in that light I see the rash action you are forcing me to commit; nay, methinks my consenting to it should injure me in your own esteem. When a woman forgets what she owes herself, a lover should set little value upon any thing she gives to him. Har. Can you suppose then, can you imagine, that my passion will ever make me forget the veneration— -And, an elopement is nothing, when it is on the road to matrimony. Dian. At best, I shall incur the censure of disobedience and indiscretion: and, is it nothing to a young woman what the world says of her? Ah! my good friend, be assured, such a disregard of the world is the first step towards deserving its reproaches. Har. But the necessity we are under-Mankind has too much good sense, too much good nature Dian. Every one has good sense enough to see other people's faults, and good nature enough to overlook their own. Besides, the most sacred things may be made an ill use of; and even marriage itself, if indecently and improperly Har. Come, get yourself ready: where is your bandbox, hat, and cloak: Slip into the garden; be there at the iron-gate, which you shewed me just now; and, as the post-chaise comes round, I will stop and take you in. Dian. Dear Harman, let me beg of you to desist. Har. Dear Diana, let me beg of you to go on. Dian. I shall never have resolution to carry me through it. Har. We shall have four horses, my dear, and they will assist us. Dian. In short-I- -cannot go with you. Har. But before me- -Into the garden-Won't you? AIR. How can you, inhuman! persist to distress me? The visions of fancy from reason divide; And let love no longer make folly its guide.* [Exi Enter Colonel OLDROY. Col. Hey-day! what's the meaning of this? Who is i went out of the room there? Have you and my daughte been in conference, Mr. Harman? Hur. Yes, Sir, she has been taking me to task her very severely, with regard to this affair; and she has sai so much against it, and put it in such a strange light Col. A busy, impertinent baggage; I wish I had caugh her meddling, and after I ordered her not: but you hav sent to the girl, and you say she is ready to go with you you must not disappoint her now. Har. No, no, Colonel. Col. Very well-now let me ask you-Don't you thin it would be proper on this occasion, to have a letter read writ for the father, to let him know who has got hi daughter, and so forth? Har. Certainly, Sir; and I'll write it directly. Col. You write it! I won't trust you with it; I tel you, Harman, you'll commit some abominable blunder The following Song is a duplicate for this place. AIR. Ah! how cruel the reflection! Vainly is her fault lamented By the poor misguided fair; if you don't leave the management of this whole affair to me: I have writ the letter for you myself. Har. Have you, Sir? Col. Ay-here, read it; I think it's the thing: however, you are welcome to make any alteration. Har. Sir, I have loved your daughter a great while secretly; she assures me there are no hopes of your consenting to our marriage; I therefore take her without it. I am a gentleman, who will use her well; and, when you consider the mutter, I don't fear you will be willing to give her a fortune. If not, you shall find I dare behave myself like a man—. -A word to the wise-You must expect to hear from me in another stile. Col. Now, Sir, I will tell you what you must do with this letter: as soon as you have got off with the girl, Sir, send your servant back to leave it at the house, with orders to have it delivered to the old gentleman. Har. Depend upon it I will, Colonel. Col. But, I don't believe you'll get the girl-Come, Harman, I'll bet you a buck and six dozen of Burgundy, that you won't have spirit enough to bring this affair to a crisis. Har. And I say done first, Colonel. Col. Then look into the court there, Sir; a chaise, with four of the prettiest bay geldings in England, with two boys in scarlet and silver jackets, that will whisk you along. Har. The very thing, Colonel. my wings. Those boys shall be me to talk to them a Dick, come hither; Col. But it mayn't be amiss for little out of the window for you. you are to go with this gentleman, and do whatever he bids you; and take into the chaise whoever he pleases; and, drive away, do you hear?-but be kind to the dumb beasts. Har. Leave that to me, Sir-And so, my dear Colonel, bon voyage! AIR. To fear a stranger, |