SCENE—A View of Sutherland-houſe, Park, Gardens, &c.

COME, buſtle, buſtle—all to your ſeveral oc⯑cupations.—Bleſs me, who'd have thought of Sir Hervey coming home:—go—enter the houſe, and prepare for his reception—I'll wait his arrival here.

Good morning, good old Geoffry.— I have once more eluded the vigilance of my per⯑ſecutor—once more ſtolen forth from the caſtle, pur⯑poſely to viſit this ſpot; and if my father hears of it, I hope he won't be angry with me:—though he denies me his protection, ſurely he will not pre⯑clude me from contemplating ſcenes that remind me of him and my dear Mother!—why, what's the matter? you ſeem agitated.

Well I may, Miſs Juliana—your father [2]is arrived from Italy, and I expect him here this very day.

Expect my father!

Ay; after an abſence of thirteen years, I expect Sir Hervey once more at Sutherland-houſe: —look, here's his letter.

Oh, I'm ſo happy!—I ſhall at laſt behold, perhaps embrace him.

Nay, I fear otherwiſe; Sir Hervey is of a moſt unforgiving diſpoſition, and the wrongs your mother put upon him were of a nature not eaſily to be forgotten.

Wrongs!—what wrongs, Geoffry? is the dark tale for ever to be concealed from me?— I am deſerted by my father, and not to know the cauſe!—Come, good old man! remember, you pro⯑miſed you would one day tell me, and ſince we are alone, and may not have another opportunity, come now—unveil the myſtery—how, how did my mother wrong him?

Well then, to keep my word—Sir Hervey ever was, and I fear ever will be, a dupe to faſhion and its follies:—he gamed, he intrigued—and though in his heart devoted to Lady Sutherland, he forſook her and his home for ſcenes of riot and diſſipation.

Unfortunate infatuation!

Lady Sutherland a long while bore this with fortitude and reſignation; but young, beautiful, and accompliſhed, ſurrounded by admirers and neglected by her huſband, ſhe at laſt liſtened to the addreſſes of an artful and deſigning villain, who convinced her of Sir Hervey's infidelity, and, by means of forged letters and other artifices, perſuaded her to elope with him.

Indeed!

'Tis too true, madam;—but her guilt was of ſhort duration:—in a few days ſhe came back to that houſe, all penitence and ſhame.—I ſhall never forget the day.—I told Sir Hervey of her return, and he in a fit of rage and madneſs bid me ſhut the door againſt her; this ſhe overheard: 'twas too much for a tender nature like hers:—ſhe fled, and ſoon after died—died of a broken heart!

Oh, for mercy!— my poor, poor mother!

You were then but eight years old, and till that hour the idol of Sir Hervey:—but your likeneſs to your mother ſoon making him wiſh to avoid you, you were removed to the caſtle; where he inveſted Mrs. Dazzle with the unlimited power of a guardian over you, and which I fear ſhe has exerted like a tyrant.

Yes.—Sir Hervey could not mean that I ſhould be her priſoner!—But go on: he went abroad—

He did — to Naples, where he has ever ſince reſided: and now, what think you, madam? do you blame the living or the dead?

I have no right to condemn either—but in my mind the huſband who neglects an amiable wife is reſponſible for all the evils that enſue.— Died of a broken heart!—oh, that he had but par⯑doned her!—then he had had a wife, and I a mo⯑ther to conſole me!—but now—Do I indeed reſemble her?

You do—you do.

Thank Heaven!—I may forgive her, though my father never can.

This way, my lad—this way.

Ha! there's Sir Hervey!—though I wiſh, you don't know how I dread to ſee him: let me be gone.

No, 'tis only Worry, his old faithful fol⯑lower; honeſt ſoul! he and your father were foſtered by the ſame nurſe; and, though long ſince in eaſy inde⯑pendent circumſtances, he ſtill follows Sir Hervey from motives of affection.—Suppoſe you aſk him to be a mediator for you.

Not now—another time, another time —I muſt return to my priſon:—but though I ſhed tears over the fate of my mother, don't fancy I up⯑braid my father.—No! I feel for both—and let him ſtill avoid, ſtill puniſh and abandon me, I know his motive: and the fond hope that he will one day prove a parent to me, will make me bear even greater ills with patience.—Oh! may that day be not far off! for 'twill be the proudeſt and the happieſt of my life.

Mind, do as I order you; when the baggage arrives let me know.

What Geoff!—give me your hand, old Geoff!—Sir Her⯑vey is but a ſtage behind.—'Slife! I thought we ſhould never ſhake hands again.

So did I; 'tis thirteen years

but, heyday! how you are altered, Maſter Worry!

Yes, I'm not the ſame man I was.

So I ſee; but how has it happened?

I don't know—I lead a different ſort of life—I think; and I'm afraid I drink a great deal.

You drink! you that uſed to be the moſt temperate, ſober—

Ay; and I uſed to hate cards, you know; now I could play all day:—I uſed to break ap⯑pointments; now I come an hour before my time; —and I that always laid in bed till noon, now con⯑ſtantly riſe with the crowing of the cock.

Why, what the deuce, are you mad?

No—I'm married.—I've got a loving jealous wife!—and whilſt Sir Hervey is continually miſerable becauſe Lady Sutherland ran away from him, here am I—I tell you what, Geoff—if Mrs. Worry were to run away from me, I'm ſure I ſhould be too much of a philoſopher to repine on the occaſion.

What! and is Sir Hervey likewiſe al⯑tered?—or does he ſtill go on rioting in diſſipation and extravagance?

Worſe and worſe—only yeſterday he employed Mr. Alltrade to raiſe five thouſand pounds for him on his bond—offered a premium of fifty per cent. and the moment he receives the money, away it will go in galas or at the gaming table—No, I beg pardon—not at the gaming table—now a days no money ever goes there.

What! have they left off playing?

No—but they've left off paying;—and that's the reaſon the faro banks are knocked up— when people only play for love, friendſhip won't induce them to keep open houſe.—But Miſs Suther⯑land—there's Sir Hervey's greateſt plague. A meeting with her was his chief motive for leaving Italy, and now we underſtand ſhe vindicates her mother, and takes part againſt him.

She is belied, cruelly belied!

Nay; we have it from the beſt authority, —Mrs. Dazzle—the lady who brought her up, and for whom I have a meſſage—but of this be [6]aſſured, Geoff; Sir Hervey's caſe isn't half ſo deſperate as mine:—he's only tormented by a daughter who will try to break his heart, but I've got a jealous wife, who will actually break my head, heart, and purſe ſtrings.

Sir, the baggage is come.

You hear—Mrs. Worry is arrived.—Come, will you go and be introduced?

With all my heart—but mind now—you'll one day find that Mrs. Dazzle has traduced Miſs Sutherland, and only becauſe ſhe was a great favourite of her late huſband's. He was a diſtant relation, you know, and I did hope would have re⯑membered her in his will—but no—he, like the reſt of her family—he—has forgotten her!

To be ſure; who ever got any good by theſe diſtant relations? Mrs. Worry has a little thouſand; and do you know my apartments are ſo conſtantly cram'd with couſins, neices, uncles, aunts, and grandmothers, that at dinner-time I never get a chair to ſit upon—I eat flying!—And talk of the comforts of a fire-ſide, curſe me if I've been within ten yards of mine ſince the day I was married:—not that I complain of cold though—my houſe is warm enough, I promiſe you:—but come along; and ſorry am I to be convinced of Miſs Sutherland's ingratitude.—Were ſhe the girl you deſcribe, I would not only be her friend and advocate, but if Sir Hervey refuſed to protect her, I would myſelf be a father to her.

SCENE—An Apartment in the Caſtle.

Even ſo, ma'am; Miſs Juliana firſt robbed you of your huſband's friendſhip, and now of the Captain's love.

Oh, the little viper!—but I know how to be amply revenged:—the great object of her life is a reconciliation with her father;—this I have already prevented, and will ſtill prevent.—But the Captain, Betty—do you think he has ſerious views?

He ſerious! what Captain Laviſh prefer Juliana Sutherland without a ſhilling, to the widow Dazzle with a nett eſtate of five thouſand a-year!

That's true:—I married little Jerry for his fortune, and I am certainly ſole hei⯑reſs—to be ſure I hav'nt yet ſeen the will, becauſe he died in London:—but I expect his agent Mr. Alltrade with it every moment, and then, Betty!—poor Juliana!—I hope the Captain will allow her half pay.

Oh you're too liberal, ma'am—but ſee! here comes Mr. Alltrade with the will.

Well! madam, as good as my word, you ſee:—this moment arrived with my friend Sir Hervey.

You are very kind, Mr. Alltrade; but there was no occaſion to be in any hurry—every body knows how little Jerry loved me.

Oh, there's no doubt that the will is completely in your favour; but you had better open it, leſt there ſhould be any ſmall bequeſt or legacies—

Well, to oblige you I'll juſt caſt my eye over it—

[8]Poor Jerry!—he uſed to ſay he ſhould fall a martyr to love.

: ‘By this my laſt will, I Jeremiah Dazzle give and bequeath all the pro⯑perty of which I die poſſeſſed unto that moſt lovely and accompliſhed of her ſex’—Spare me—ſpare a poor widow's bluſhes, Mr. Alltrade.

Nay! it's not more than you deſerve.

Oh, Sir!

—"unto that moſt lovely and accompliſhed of her ſex, Juliana Sutherland"—Juliana!—why, Mr. Alltrade!

Go on.

‘Juliana Suther⯑land, whom being deſerted by her father, I take a pride in adopting. But my will further is, that ſhe hold the ſaid property no longer than ſhe re⯑mains unmarried. In caſe ſhe marries, I give the ſame to my widow Deborah Dazzle. And my only motive for thus tying up my couſin Juliana, is to ſave her from entering into a ſtate to which I fell a martyr.’ — Why it's a forgery! he could not—dared not!

Nay—there's no doubt that it's genu⯑ine—but be compoſed—doesn't Miſs Sutherland live in this houſe?

She does.

Then it dawns! it glares upon me!—Mark—if ſhe marries, the eſtate devolves to you—are not theſe Mr. Dazzle's words!

They are: and I only wiſh I had been behind him when he wrote them!.

Well: be patient—don't deſtroy the will, becauſe that's a ſerious buſineſs

—only conceal it till you get Juliana a huſband—then ſhe forfeits the legacy, and you become heireſs to a hundred thouſand pounds.

Why that looks well—but how?—the Captain won't marry her.

No, but I will; in the firſt place her being in this houſe will give me numberleſs oppor⯑tunities; and in the next I am employed by Sir Hervey to raiſe five thouſand pounds for him on his bond—now if we can get Juliana to join in it, I ſhall have them both ſo completely in my power, that if I fail in the character of a lover, I may ſucceed in that of a creditor:—you underſtand.

I do—excellent!—and as a re⯑ward for your trouble—

I only aſk a third of the eſtate.

Granted—it is a bargain.

Say you ſo?—then let's to work in⯑ſtantly—and look here comes one who, from his influence over Sir Hervey, we muſt ſecure as a confederate.

Worry, my old acquaintance!—I give you joy of your marriage, and ſincerely wiſh you may never know the pangs of widowhood.

And ſo do I with all my heart, Worry.

And I wiſh with all my ſoul you'd both keep your wiſhes to yourſelves.

—But I wait upon you, madam, from Sir Hervey:—from your account of Miſs Sutherland's undutiful and indiſ⯑creet conduct, he perſiſts in not ſeeing her, and therefore while he ſtays in the country, he begs ſhe may be more cloſely confined than ever.

I'll do all I can; but ſhe is ſo art⯑ful and deſigning, that for my part I don't think ſhe'll ever be ſafe till ſhe gets a huſband to pro⯑tect her.

Nor I; and I'll tell you a ſecret, Worry—I love her, and wiſh to be that huſband: and ſince, from my humble birth and inferior ſitu⯑ation, I cannot aſpire to gaining Sir Hervey's con⯑ſent, will you aid and aſſiſt the marriage?

With all my heart—the more matches the better.—When one's in a ſcrape oneſelf, nothing's ſo conſoling as to ſee all one's friends in the ſame ſituation.

I'll aſſiſt you—but about the bond—have you raiſed the five thouſand pounds.

No; and I deſpair of ſucceſs—the friend I applied to wants Miſs Sutherland to join.

She join! why ſhe's as poor—

I know—but he ſays ſhe has rich re⯑lations—may have a handſome legacy—in ſhort, it will mend the ſecurity:—therefore let Sir Hervey know this, and he will ſee the neceſſity of com⯑manding her to ſign inſtantly.

Good day, Worry—I ſhall be al⯑ways glad to ſee you: and becauſe there's a hatch⯑ment over my door, don't fancy this is abſolutely the houſe of mourning.

No, ma'am;—I—I—

Why, what do you laugh at?—ſpeak out—you won't offend me.

Shan't I, ma'am?—then begging your pardon, you need'nt have caution'd me; for I al⯑ways look on a hatchment outſide of a widow's houſe like a ſign over an inn—a certain emblem of revelry and good cheer.—And when I'm a widower—oh! oh! oh!

So far, ſo well; he's in our intereſt—but to get this bond out of Sir Hervey's hands, we muſt at leaſt advance a few hundreds, and where to raiſe even thoſe—for my part I haven't a guinea.

Nor I now a ſhilling!—

nor do I know where to raiſe one?

No!

No; unleſs indeed Mr. Miſt the manager of our country theatre—

What! the quondam ſilverſmith of Cheapſide!—he's an old friend of mine,

Is he?—then you may aid my ſuit.—You muſt know, ſmitten with the love of ſame, eager to acquire the reputation of wit and genius, I have written a moſt magnificent play, which of courſe I am all anxiety to ſee acted; he has already promiſed to come and read it, and if it meets with his approbation, very likely he may advance the money neceſſary to pay Sir Hervey.

True—ſuppoſe I haſten his viſit—I'll ſeek him inſtantly; and whilſt you keep Juliana out of ſight, I'll keep the will out of ſight—

—And with regard to the play, if you get money by it, depend on't you'll get reputation alſo; one generally follows the other.

So it does—and how the caſe is alter'd?—formerly wits had no money, and now he that has no money has no wit; for whilſt a bad joke will be applauded from the head of a great able, a good one will be loſt if ſpoken by him who has nothing but wit to recommend him!—but away to the manager—let the war begin, and doubt not our victory!

SCENE—Outſide of the Theatre.

Pooh—I'll ſit there picking my teeth no longer;—ſtay for ever, there won't be a place taken; for well as Mr. Miſt might underſtand conducting a ſhop, he knows ſo little how to manage a theatre, that during the time I have been prompter, treaſurer, box-book-keeper, and deputy manager, there have been only three boxes taken—and they were by particular friends, who thought they did him an honour by coming in with orders—pſha!—I'll go—heh?—who's here?—aha? a flat at laſt!

This way, Sir,—there's the office—have a front row in any part of the houſe, Sir—

Sir, I want to ſpeak to Mr. Miſt—where is he?

—Why don't you anſwer me?—where can I find him?

He's walking on the London road—you'll find him there, all anxiety, looking out for the new Harlequin whom we expect every hour by the ſlow waggon.

Expect Harlequin by the ſlow wag⯑gon!

Yes, Sir: and between you and me, 'tis high time he came; we play to ſhocking houſes—laſt night to Hamlet we were obliged to make a ſhew, by ſhoving the band into the pit, the orange women into the boxes, and the door-keepers into the galleries.—Indeed no wonder at it, for Mr. Miſt himſelf played Hamlet.

The old tradeſman act Hamlet!

Even ſo—he always will act the beſt part—but here he comes, and ſpite of the bad houſes, all buſtle, life, and animation!

Damn that ſlow waggon—not here 'till ſeaſon's over—however, ſure of tol lol houſe to night—fine day—ſtrong bill—nothing againſt—what Jack! Jack Alltrade!—why what brings you to this—oh! oh!—ſly dog!—written a Farce—can't get it acted in London—and ſo come—

Not I upon my honour.

Want an engagement then!—what's your line? Ben, Scrub, and Calliban; or Richard, Romeo, and the tiptops—no difference though—tragedy or comedy—play which you will, Jack—ſure to en⯑tertain audience—he! he! he!

Why 'Slife—here's an alteration!—when I laſt ſaw you, you were leaving off trade with a capital fortune, and retiring into the country free from the cares and vexation of buſineſs.

Hem! much you know of the matter—when I loſt care and vexation, loſt my two beſt friends.

Care and vexation your beſt friends!

Yes: couldn't tell what to do with myſelf—all day long watching clock, or yawning at ſtreet door—could'nt bear it—hardly alive—thought of opening new ſhop—when one lucky day!—play houſe put up at auction—always had theatrical twiſt—ſo bid handſomely—knock'd down at large ſum to be ſure—but what then? been happy ever ſince—had care and vexation in abundance—but [14]mum—ſhan't ſtop here—London—Covent Garden—Drury Lane—they're my object!

Indeed!—then why not make them your object now?—why not engage London play⯑ers?

Um!

—that for London players—and that for London authors—ſoon have beſt actor and fineſt writer living—heh: know who I mean?

Harlequin!

Right—back his wooden ſword againſt their wooden heads—bring all Europe—young and old boys—little babies, and full grown babies:—and then for ſalary—only twelve ſhillings a week, and fare of ſlow waggon—whereas theſe London gen⯑tlemen, with their ten pounds a night and poſt chaiſes and four—beſides, won't do here?—don't I come from London?—don't I act Hamlet, and to what?—not enough to pay the lighting?—but can't ſtay—muſt go look after the tricks—muſt get all ſmooth 'gainſt great man's arrival.

Nay: I've an invitation for you—Mrs. Dazzle is extremely anxious about her play, and requeſts you'd wait upon her.

I wait!—who's manager?—beſides d—d ſtuff I ſuppoſe.

That I can't ſay—but when I tell you, ſhe is a lady I have the greateſt regard for—

Enough—come this evening—be there before doors open—till when, in the words of Hamlet, Remember me!

Hamlet!—in the words of the Ghoſt, you mean.

Yes: but when I act Hamlet, play the Ghoſt too—always take every good ſpeech in the [15]play and whip into my part—I'm manager—he! he! he!

Well, adieu—and after the reading, I'll look in at the theatre.

Do—ſhan't coſt you a farthing—put you in at ſtage door, and ſit in my box—Strong bill to⯑night—Beggar's Opera in two acts—Filch by a gentleman of the law, being his firſt and laſt ap⯑pearance on any ſtage—after which, a grand ſpec⯑tacle of my own writing, called ‘Gulliver the Great.’—In the firſt act, all the characters will be killed—in the ſecond, introduced their execu⯑tors, adminiſtrators, and aſſigns—but come and judge.—I ſay though, when new pantomime comes out, trouble you not to walk about the town, Jack.

Why?

Why!—who'll pay to look at my clown, when they can ſee you for nothing—he! he! he!—come along, Stop.

SCENE—Outſide of the Caſtle.

'Sdeath! how mortifying! how perplexing!—and yet, without the money, inevit⯑able ruin follows. Are you ſure that was Mr. Alltrade's meſſage?

Yes, Sir; he cannot raiſe the five thouſand pounds unleſs Miſs Juliana joins in the bond.

Well, be it ſo.—Enter the caſtle inſtantly, and tell her 'tis by my command; the firſt and laſt requeſt her father ever will make to her—begone—

—And now, old man, obey my orders—let there be maſks and dancing—I cannot encounter ſolitude—that leads to thought, and thought engenders madneſs; and I muſt plunge 'midſt any ſpecies of ſociety to ſave me from myſelf: therefore, let the doors of Su⯑therland-houſe once more be opened, and let re⯑velry and good cheer welcome my return.

I ſhall obey, Sir.

Give general invitation to my friends.

Your friends!—Oh, I'm glad of that, Sir—then I hope I know one who will be of the party.

Indeed! who, Geoffry?

With ſubmiſſion, Miſs Juliana, Sir— don't be angry—but if the title of friend admits any one into your houſe, in my mind none ôught to be more welcome than your own daughter.

How!—have a care, Sir.

Nay, you are deceived, cruelly de⯑ceived; ſhe has no hope, no wiſh beyond you: only this very morning, with tears in her eyes, ſhe exclaimed, ‘The day that reconciles me to my father will be the proudeſt and the happieſt of my life!’—Theſe were her words—and now, to ſee her impriſoned!—

Did ſhe—did ſhe ſay this, Geoffry?

She did, Sir—and at the ſame time ſhe put on ſuch a ſweet faſcinating look—exactly ſuch a one as her late mother—

Who, Sir?

Such a one as poor Lady Sutherland, Sir,—

Diſtraction!—you've raiſed the latent fury here; and I would ſooner preſs a viper to my breaſt than the image of a woman who had ſo wronged me.—I'll hear no more—beſides, this is all artifice—I've been informed how well ſhe loves her father; and for the impriſonment you talk of, I ſanction and approve it.—Better be even cloiſtered thus, than only come into the world to vindicate and ſhare a falſe, falſe mother's crimes.

What! can Mrs. Dazzle be baſe enough—

Peace, old man—on pain of your diſmiſſal utter not a word againſt that beſt of women and of friends.—Attend me home, and [18]inſtantly make preparation for ſplendid hoſpi⯑tality.—

Look, Sir!—only look!—there's poor Miſs Juliana ſitting at her priſon window!—ſee, how innocent and how melancholy ſhe appears!— Suppoſe now you were juſt to ſtay and—and— ſpeak to her, Sir.

I ſpeak!—away!—lead not my mind to thoughts that madden whilſt they charm me—No—in the huſband's wrongs I'll bury all the fond, fond feelings of the father.—

Nay, Sir, only turn and take one look at her—

I dare not—I dare not—

SCENE—An Apartment in the Caſtle.

Oh, what a fate is mine!—a father, whom I haven't ſeen from infancy, and now ſo near me—and I'm denied the ſight of him—nay more, am told that, by his orders, this place is ſtill to be my priſon.—Oh, my mother! I feel my heart, like yours, can't long ſupport it.—

—I ſhall ſoon follow thee!

So, there ſhe is—what a frightful, un⯑dutiful countenance!—Oh, ſhe'll ſee us all ſtarve before—Madam!

As I live, the man that Geoffry ſpoke of—what can he want?—

—May I aſk—I hope Sir Hervey's well?

No, he's very ill, I'm very much obliged to you.

Ill!—heavens!—what's his com⯑plaint?

An ungrateful daughter!—Your par⯑don, ma'am—perhaps I'm ſomewhat blunt—but I have lived with Sir Hervey theſe twenty years: if he has faults to others, he has none to me; and though the world deſerts him, it is my duty to ſtand or fall with him.

Well, I applaud your zeal; but why, why charge me with ingratitude?

Becauſe you are his enemy; becauſe you take the part of her who baſely wrong'd him.

Hold, cenſure me as much as you pleaſe; but breathe not a ſyllable againſt my mother.

There! you avow it; you juſtify—

No—but I feel for her; I lament her fate: that conſolation Sir Hervey cannot deny me. —And let him know me before he condemns me; for how can that child be called ungrateful who never had an opportunity of evincing either her duty or affection?

How!

I never wronged him; and even in my infancy he ſhut his doors againſt me.—I am his child; and by denying his protection, he has ex⯑poſed me to the ſelf-ſame ſnares my mother fell a martyr to.—I've not diſgraced—I've ever loved him: and let him give me but the trial—oh! let him take me to his heart; and if the careſſes of an affectionate daughter do not atone for the errors of a miſguided mother, then let him caſt me from him; but till then let him not accuſe me of in⯑gratitude.

What! and you'd—how handſome ſhe looks!—you'd be loving and dutiful?

Oh yes—I'd watch, I'd nurſe him— weep as he wept, and bleſs each ſmile that cheered him: and when time had mellowed his grief into a ſweet remembrance of my mother's loſs, then I'd retrieve her honour in the grave:—in my un⯑varied truth, all, all ſhould be forgotten. I would revive the friendſhip that he bore her, and ſhe ſhould live again in Juliana.

Bleſs my ſoul!—now only think of my not marrying ſuch a woman!—and if he wanted money, and you had it to lend him—

If I had millions, I would devote them all to him.

Old Geoff's right.—May I never go to Heaven if ſhe isn't an angel!—and if the widow isn't ſomething elſe, may I go ſomewhere elſe.

Ay, Mrs. Dazzle; ſhe is my perſe⯑cutor: from the hour I accidentally interfered with her in Captain Laviſh's affection, ſhe—

Captain Laviſh!—what, your father's antagoniſt—the man who two years ago fought him in Switzerland?

Alas! the ſame.

And did you return his affection?

What could I do?—he riſked his own life to ſave mine—'tis but a ſhort and ſimple tale— One day, when I had liberty to ride within the pre⯑cincts of the caſtle, my horſe ran away with me, and he in ſtopping it broke his arm: I could do no leſs than confeſs the obligation; and ſince his recovery, often viſiting Mrs. Dazzle, our intimacy encreaſed, and gratitude grew into love.

And all the time did you know of the duel?

No; till yeſterday I never heard of it; and then I inſtantly informed him, that though Sir Hervey neglected his duty to me, I could never forget mine to him, and nothing ſhould induce me to receive that man as a lover, who deſigned to be the murderer of my father.

—Why, what's the matter?—where are you going?

To Sir Hervey; to bid him remove you from the protection of a hypocrite, and place you under his own.

Oh, will you—will you be ſo generous? Indeed in this caſtle I am not ſafe a moment.

No—nor any body elſe; for the roof will tumble in to a certainty; but I'll go directly: and if I fail, and the war continues—let the enemy look to it—I've ſerved many a hard campaign, and though not lately in the battles abroad, thanks to Mrs. Worry I've ſeen pretty warm ſervice at home; and ſooner than you ſhould remain under the rod of a tyrant, I'd ſtorm the caſtle, and revive the age of chivalry:—yes—I would—I "Will Worry," the married man!—So retire, and wait my coming, madam—I'll not be long.

I'm ſure you will not: and pray remind my father, that I have ſuffered in my turn; that we are partners in calamity, and by meeting we might divide and diſſipate each other's woes.—Tell him—but you know my thoughts, and to your conduct I commit a cauſe on which my hope, my happineſs, my life depends!

SCENE—Another Apartment in the Caſtle, Mrs. DAZZLE and MIST diſcovered ſitting at a Table— MIST with a Manuſcript in his Hand.

Now then, Mr. MIST—now begin the play: but remember, I haven't quite finiſhed it.

‘Mary Queen of Scots, a grand beroic drama; with new ſcenes, new dreſſes, new decorations, new’—hem: that's my affair—I'm manager—

Oh, certainly, Sir—

‘Scene the firſt—a room in a Caſtle—the Duke of Norfolk diſcovered with a key in his band. The Duke—Now, by my holy dame, with this ſame key, Jockey of Norfolk, thou'lt unlock the gate of Scottiſh Mary's priſon!—He unlocks ihe gate and leads forth Mary.—Beſhrew me, but your ſafe, and ſo good morrow, good Queen Elizabeth!’—

Won't do—won't bring ſixpence—refuſe it—I refuſe it!

How! why I flattered myſelf I had caught the true Shakſperian fire.

And ſuppoſe you had—what then?—played Hamlet laſt night under ten pounds; and I ſay that's a bad play that brings a bad houſe.—Harle⯑quin and Abraham Newland—they're the only pul⯑ling writers, except indeed the Germans; and there!—there I'm beforehand with the Londoners— mum—mine's a German Harlequin—he!—he!— However, try another page—if that's not better, don't you finiſh play—audience will finiſh it for you.

[23] ‘Enter Queen Elizabeth and Burleigh.—The Queen—Go to—we'll nip'em i'the bud.—Why, how now, rebels?—for this treacherous queen, convey her to the tower—and there, good Bur⯑leigh—You take the hint—Away! —Burleigh carries off Mary and’—

—You hear— applauſe interrupts us.

Who can it be?—dear! was there ever any thing ſo unlucky?

Not at all; for this relief much thanks—

—Decided, in my opinion—firſt night diſapprobation—ſecond, under expences—third, nobody but the author.—Yours, devotedly yours.

Nay, I inſiſt you don't ſtir

—You hear!—do only be kind enough to ſtep into the next room, and I'll get rid of this in⯑truſive perſon in a moment: come now, indulge an anxious author; and conſider though it don't read, it may act well.

That's true; nothing reads worſe than pantomime; but in repreſentation!—Oh gods! and goddeſſes!—give me the manuſcript—I'll indulge you

—one—two—only four acts!— never mind—if play's bad, leſs of bad thing the better—if good, I and my copyiſt ſoon cobble up fifth act for you—but I'm gone—

Mum! ever ſee Gulliver the Great?—that was our writing—to be ſure audience damn'd it the firſt night, but what then?—Theatre's mine!—ſo gave 'em a doſe of it; acted it fifty nights running—re⯑venged myſelf there—he! he! he!—and in like manner always will maintain dignity!—always, as long as I'm P. M., Peter Miſt—and M. P. manager of a play houſe!

Now then, for this tormentor—

—You Miſs!—how dare you—

Oh, madam!—I'm ſo terrified!—even now, Mr. Alltrade, a total ſtranger, propoſed mar⯑riage to me; and told me that, aided by his own merit and your intereſt, he didn't doubt of ſucceſs, —Nay, on my refuſing him, he abſolutely threatened to uſe force.

And on this account you fled from him?

I did, madam: and I entreat you to protect and ſave me.

Baſe, worthleſs girl!—then know Mr. Alltrade ſpoke truth; he is the man I have ſelected for your huſband.

Heavens! and can you mean—

I mean you ſhould be his wife! and till you conſent, your chamber ſhall be your priſon—

Oh, for mercy! —Look at me—I am friendleſs, fatherleſs!

And who have you to thank for it?—Yes: 'tis as I ſaid—Captain Laviſh has taught you to deſpiſe marriage, and copy the example of her who made you fatherleſs.

What! do you allude to—

I do—and beware, Miſs—dare not to imitate ſuch falſe, abandoned conduct.

Abandoned!

Ay: would you juſtify it?—have you the audacity to vindicate deeds the moſt licen⯑tious!—actions—

Were you the being that I moſt reſpect—were you my father!—I'd tell you it is falſe!—Licentious!—oh, had my illfated mother [25]poſſeſſed one atom that reſembled you, I'd tear her image from my heart, or die!

Take care, or—

Oh, ſhame! ſhame!—is this the pro⯑tection I might expect from one of my own ſex?— Men would betray us; let us not betray each other! and while ſhe whom you cenſure might meet with pity and forgiveneſs, what can the female ſeducer expect?—the ſcorn of one ſex, the abhorrence of the other.

Begone I—retire to your cham⯑ber—nay, no reply;—I will be obeyed—

Oh! have you ſeen my father?—will he, will he take pity on me?

Alas, madam!—I can do nothing for you.

What! he perſiſts!

Moſt obſtinately: he ſays your offer of advancing money is no more than your duty, and what a parent has a lawful claim to.

Then may he feel—but he's deceived, and I forgive him.

Not gone yet!—Do as I command: to your chamber I inſiſt —

—And you, Worry, as you've kindly undertaken to aſſiſt Mr. Alltrade, go to him inſtantly; tell him Miſs Sutherland has ſo groſsly inſulted me, that I've no longer any conſcientious ſcruples, and if he chooſes to ſecure the marriage by carrying her off—

Carrying her off!

Ay: force will be the ſhorteſt mode: ſo bid him come in a poſt-chaiſe to the weſtern gate, whilſt I go and make ſure of my priſoner.—Away—loſe not a moment, and tell him I'll anſwer for the ſucceſs of the enterprize.

I go to Mr. Alltrade!—I aid—bleſs my ſoul!—No wonder ſhe's a widow—If ſhe married every morning, her huſband would die before night: —but I will aid in carrying her off—I'll go di⯑rectly and get aſſiſtance—I'll entreat the firſt man I meet to join with me:—and let Sir Hervey con⯑demn, or, what's more tremendous, let Mrs. Worry ſcold me, I know I'm doing my duty!—So in ſpite of wives, widows, and devils, I'll ſecure her eſcape, and ſtill try to reſtore her to her father.

Oh, it won't do—'twill be damn'd.

Now pray take pity—pray give your aſſiſtance, Sir:—there's the ſweeteſt young lady juſt lock'd into that room, and if you would but help to releaſe her—

How! what! young lady lock'd up! and I help to releaſe her!—pooh—nonſenſe!—what's her caſe!—And me—why apply to me?

Becauſe I'm ſure you will befriend us— and if you did but know how well ſhe had con⯑ducted herſelf!—how charmingly ſhe had acted her part—

What! acted her part!

Ay! no woman ever acted better:— ſuch ſenſe! ſuch feeling, Sir!—and now, when ſhe is ſo ready to engage herſelf—

Ready to engage!—oh, ho—comprehend now—lock'd up to keep her from the ſtage, and [27]apply to me 'cauſe I'm Manager—he! he!—Hark ye; how's her voice?

Delightful.

And her action?

Graceful.

And her figure?

Beautiful.

Damme ſhe'll do my buſineſs till Harle⯑quin comes! Say no more—my houſe is open— I'll give her an appearance.

What!—you'll get her out!

To be ſure I will—in what part ſhe likes beſt —tragedy, comedy, opera, farce, pantomime!— And you!—want a clown—you ſhall play clown— alſo if you're married! don't reply—ſee it by your chin—give you and your wife freedom—perpetual free admiſſion.—But now for it—now to plan plot —Hem!—Here is the author.

So now Juliana's ſafe, and I get my huſband's eſtate.—Oh, Worry, have you ſeen Mr. Alltrade?

Hey! yes—I've ſeen Mr. Alltrade, and he'll be here with the chaiſe directly.

"Burleigh carries off Mary."

What! no further, Mr. Miſt?— I ſuppoſe you're thinking of the effect, Mr. Mana⯑ger?

Mr. Manager!—Oh! I underſtand now—

Yes; but can't tell without rehearſal— cannot judge unleſs I ſaw it on the boards—Let me ſee—there's the priſon gate—

—you are Jockey Norfolk—no I'm Jockey—I'll tell you what—ſuppoſe we give it a trial!

A trial! what a rehearſal now in this room?—Delightful!—I ſhould like it of all things.

So ſhould I—then liſten—I'll play Nor⯑folk—you Queen Elizabeth—

He, Burleigh—

Who the devil's Burleigh.—

And for Mary—dear! dear! where ſhall we get a Mary?

Tell you—all in way of rehearſal—young lady you juſt lock'd in—ſhe's in ſame ſituation you know.

So ſhe is—here, Worry!—here's an excellent opportunity to take her to Mr. All⯑trade.

—I declare I ca'nt help laughing.

No more can I:—Oh damme, I ſee it will produce an effect now?—give me the key

—All to our ſeparate places, and let rehearſal begin.—Enter Duke of Norfolk.

‘Now! by my holy dame, with this ſame key, Jockey of Norfolk, thou'lt unlock the gate of Scottiſh Mary's priſon. (Unlocks folding doors, and leads out JULIANA).—Beſhrew me, but you're ſafe, and ſo good morrow, good Queen Elizabeth!’

‘Go to—we'll nip 'em in the bud.—Why, how now, rebels?—For this treacherous Queen—(ſeizing JULIANA, and delivering her to WORRY; who puts himſelf in a tragic attitude)—convey her to the tower!—and there, good Burleigh —You take the hint!—Away!’

Ay:—You take the hint!—Away!

Oh yes:—I take the hint—Away!

Bravo!—will it meet with diſ⯑approbation now?—

No—it muſt be a very illnatured audience indeed, that don't applaud ſo ingenious an exit.—

Ay: there's authorſhip for you!

Egad, and there's management for you!

Remember, Sir, but for me theſe characters wouldn't have been brought on the ſtage.

No; and but for you they wouldn't have been got off the ſtage; but now to get Norfolk off—Muſt follow new actreſs.—

Stop! I'll tell you; Elizabeth firſt turns her back upon him—then Norfolk makes a long harangue—then—

Pſha! hang long harangues,—touch and go,—that's the plan for effect; I'll ſhew you how to do Norfolk's exit!—firſt turn your back on me P. S.—

—So, then I ſtrut off O. P.—Gently—don't turn round till I'm gone: then work yourſelf into a furious paſſion.—Mary, I fly!—I follow thee! and ſo, good morrow, good Queen Elizabeth!—Hem,—there's another good exit!

Oh, the old fool! how I ſhall wheedle him!

Madam!

Is he gone! now then to work my⯑ſelf into a furious paſſion—

—thou wretch! thou traitor!—How! Sir Hervey!—Mr.—Heavens! have you ſeen nothing of Miſs Sutherland?—

No; and Sir Hervey has brought the bond on purpoſe for me to preſent to her, and now, to our aſtoniſhment, we find ſhe and Worry have juſt gone out of the caſtle together:—what can it mean?

Mean!

—that I am wheedl'd myſelf.—Oh that brute of a mana⯑ger!—Sir Hervey, 'tis too plain—ſhe has elop'd.—

Elop'd!

No doubt ſhe has fled to Captain Laviſh; and theſe two impoſtors are his agents.—oh, I ſee it all! ſhe has long intended it; and to avoid ſigning the bond, ſhe has haſtened her de⯑parture.

Elope with Laviſh, why this out⯑does her mother:—but can I ſtand idly by?—no—I'll diſappoint my enemy of this unmanly triumph, and ſave her; ſpite of herſelf I'll ſave her—Mr. Alltrade, wait upon him inſtantly, and bid him reſtore my daughter on pain of a ſecond and more deſperate meeting.—Come, madam, we'll ſee him on his way.

By all means, Sir Hervey: I only hope you don't blame me for my pupil's indiſcre⯑tion.

No: had ſhe copied your bright and excellent example, this ne'er had happened—but though her errors even exceed her mother's, and a reconciliation is more than ever diſtant, yet ſhe is ſtill my child!—and in a moment dangerous as the preſent, for my own ſake I'll prove a friend and father.

SCENE—An Apartment in LAVISH's Houſe—Receſs with ſmall Folding Doors, which are thrown open, and diſcover a Marble Pedeſtal ſurrounded by Doves and Cupids—a Table with Wine and Refreſhments upon it.

Ha! ha! ſo you've no ſooner finiſh⯑ed that whimſical out-of-the-way job

—than he ſends for you about another.

Ay, your maſter is an excellent cuſ⯑tomer,—always up to his chin in brick and mor⯑tar; and then for price—'gad! he never haggles about price.

No, and the beſt of the joke is, he calls himſelf an economiſt, and comes down here on a ſaving ſcheme.

A ſaving ſcheme!

Ay! finding himſelf a little out of elbows in London, and the preſent ſtate of the Continent not allowing him to travel, he came here to [32]live cheap, and retrench.—And there!

—there's one ſpecimen of his economy.—On the journey he bought a ſtatue of Venus.

I know; and a great bargain it was: it only coſt him five pounds.

True; but not chooſing to have his beauties gazed at, he employed you to build that ſtrange ſort of receſs to put it in, which has coſt him at leaſt five times the ſum.—This is always the way; if he bought a cheap boat, he'd cut a canal for it; and if a pulpit, he'd build a church for it:—in fact, he is a falſe economiſt—a ſelf-deceiver; and here he comes to elucidate my deſcription.

Oh! if I go on in this cloſe ſaving way only ſix months longer, I ſhall be able to return to town and daſh like the beſt of them:—never was ſuch a hand at buying bargains.—Frank, come here you rogue:—juſt now, at Squire Brozier's ſale, what do you think I gave for a curricle? — only forty pounds! — there, there's economy for you.

Economy!—begging your pardon, Sir,—I ſee no economy in buying what you don't want.

How?—would you let a bargain flip through your fingers, you extravagant raſcal?

No—but you've no horſes, Sir; and a curricle's uſeleſs—

That's what I ſaid; ſays I, a curricle is uſeleſs without horſes,—ſo I bought a pair di⯑rectly.

Bought a pair?

Ay, gave a hundred and twenty pounds for them—to be ſure it's money; but one's own carriage ſaves poſting and drivers: in ſhort, the worſt come to the worſt, 'tis but a hundred and fifty pounds, and I'll ſave it a thouſand ways.—Who are you, Sir?

I have finiſh'd that job, all but fixing up the ſtatue, Sir; and now I come about the billiard-room:—but, to ſpeak honeſtly, it is not worth repairing.

So I thought; I thought it wasn't worth repairing.

No, Sir; and a new room will not coſt above three hundred pounds:—but then to be ſure it will be elegant and laſting.

So it will, and the firſt expence is the leaſt; ſo up with the new room.—

—And now to finiſh my vindication to Juliana—

— ‘Your late mo⯑ther was not only my relation, but my friend and benefactreſs; and on Sir Hervey's one day reprobating her conduct with unuſual aſperity, gratitude prompted me to defend it perhaps more warmly than I ought, and a duel was the reſult.’—

—See who's there.—

—But what ſignifies writing? while ſhe's immured in her preſent den, I haven't a chance of ſucceſs.—Mrs. Dazzle formerly ſe⯑duced me into ſome gallantries, and a diſappointed widow is the devil.

Sir, I beg pardon for laughing; but who do you think is at the door?—no leſs a gentleman [34]than the one you caned at Newmarket about four years ago.

Caned!—Oh! I recollect—I detected him in an act of forgery.—But what does the fel⯑low want?—I don't know his name, nor have I once ſeen him ſince.

No; and though he now aſks for Cap⯑tain Laviſh, he little thinks you are the gentleman he is under ſuch obligations to.

Shew him up

—intro⯑duce the Newmarket gentleman to his two old antagoniſts the Captain and his cane.—And, in the mean time—

This way, Sir—there, that's my maſter

Oh, that's Captain Laviſh, is it?—Sir, I wait upon you—

Yes, the widow is ſo jealous and ſo violent.—

—How d'ye do, my fine fellow?—how d'ye do?—My Newmarket hero ſure enough.—

Amazement! why it's the very man who—

What's the matter?—you ſeem cold—ſhall I warm you?

Warm me!—no—I—

Some wine—give the gentleman ſome wine.—This is the houſe of frugality, and therefore I can't offer you a great variety; but as far as Burgundy, Madeira, and Champagne—muſt drink them, if I ſave it a thouſand ways.

Sir, you'll exeuſe me.—Why ſurely I've miſtaken my man—he would never be ſo civil: at all events he don't recollect me; ſo I'll pluck up courage.—

—Sir, I wait upon you from Sir Hervey Sutherland: he arrived here to⯑day, and knowing of your love for his daugh⯑ter—

Came down to increaſe her confine⯑ment, I ſuppoſe.

No trifling, Sir; he is convinced you are concerned in her elopement—

Elopement!—how!—what!—Juliana eloped?

You know ſhe has, Sir; and Sir Her⯑vey inſiſts—

Eloped!—Juliana free!—out of the widow's and her father's cuſtody!—Which way did ſhe go?—what road did ſhe take?—ſpeak, ſpeak this inſtant.

I ſpeak!—if I knew, of courſe you would be the laſt man I ſhould give information to.

Indeed!

Certainly.—Sir Hervey is my friend, and if his daughter isn't at preſent in your power, I ſhall unite with him in oppoſing your purſuit of her.

You will!

Undoubtedly.

Pray, Sir, were you ever at New⯑market?

Newmarket, Sir!—I—I—

Ay, Newmarket, Sir, Newmarket.—Frank, give me my cane.

Stay, Sir—what do you want with your cane?

Only to help your memory.—Look!—

—were you ever at Newmarket?

Yes, I was, Sir.

And you'll oppoſe me in purſuing—

No, believe me, Sir.

And if you knew which road ſhe took—

I'd tell you, upon my honour, Sir.

Then retire—begone this inſtant.—And d'ye hear, if you're not ſatisfied with this treat⯑ment, call again, and I'll give you a warmer re⯑ception—

—And now for Juliana—now for the idol of my ſoul!—Frank, get the curricle: no, I ſhall only hurry and lame my own horſes—get a chaiſe and four.

Chaiſe and four!—is this the way to re⯑trench?—and conſider, Sir, Miſs Sutherland has no money; and you always ſaid you'd never marry any woman who had leſs than ten thouſand pounds.

I did: but that's an aukward ſum: a woman with ten thouſand pounds expects houſes, horſes, carriages—in ſhort, to ſpend double her own income, and her huſband's too. But a woman without a farthing; ſhe manages the houſe, mends the linen, nurſes the children, ſcolds the ſervants—Oh! that's the real rich wife—and the poor Ju⯑liana will be the beſt bargain I ever made.—So go, do as I tell you: and obſerve, I'll marry her if I ſacrifice my whole fortune in the purſuit.

Sacrifice your whole fortune, Sir!

Ay, I will, if I ſave it a thouſand ways.

SCENE—Outſide of LAVISH's Houſe.

So, now to enter this perfidious Cap⯑tain's houſe.—Not only love and jealouſy urge me to ſeparate him and Juliana; but as I know he don't mean to marry her, it is my buſineſs to get her once more into Alltrade's power:—yes, Miſs Juliana; let me recover my huſband's hundred thouſand pounds, and I'll warrant I'll recover my Captain. He, like the reſt of the world, won't viſit virtue in a cottage, but place me in a magnificent houſe,—ay, there's the ſecret:—now-a-days people viſit the building, not the owner of it; and on the ſize of the rooms, and the number of the enter⯑tainments, we may not only calculate our friends and admirers, but alſo the good and bad opinion of the whole faſhionable world!

Look out; we are purſued:—I'm ſure they were Mrs. Dazzle's ſervants.

They were! but we've outrun them.

Yes: but if they come up with us, I ſhall be forced back and endure encreaſed perſecu⯑tion:—Oh! I wiſh we were ſafe at this Mr. MIST'S houſe.

So do I:—though you ſee what a ſtrange gentleman he is!—he left us to examine the firſt ſlow waggon we met; but don't deſpond, madam:—I won't leave you—no, I'll die firſt.

Kind—generous! but I cannot bear to involve you: remember you have a wife, and—

Remember!—I ſhall never forget it!

Nay: but a huſband is of ſo much conſequence to his family—

Bleſs you, I'm of no conſequence; nobody ever wants me:—if any body leaves a card, it's for Mrs. Worry:—if any body ſends an invi⯑tation, it's for Mrs. Worry:—if an invitation is ſent in return, it's ſtill Mrs. Worry: nobody calls or aſks after the huſband, except indeed the tradeſ⯑people!—they are kind enough now and then to notice me: but like other great married men, I'm obliged to be out when they call: ſo, curſe me if I've even the pleaſure of being at home to a dun! but we waſte time, let us proceed to Mr. Miſt's houſe.

Ay: for Heaven's ſake diſpatch—

You take that ſide of the road, I'll take this:—ſhe cannot eſcape then.

There, 'tis Mr. Alltrade's voice!— and both ſides of the road are guarded by enemies.

Yes: it's all over—we're between two fires.—Which way ſhall we go?—

that door ſtands moſt invitingly open, ſuppoſe we enter it.

Do—inſtantly: why, what's the matter? you were quite valiant juſt now!

I was: but I fancy my courage is more like a new acquaintance than an old friend,—pro⯑feſſes a great deal at firſt, but generally ſneaks off in the hour of danger: however, lead on—and let us hope to receive from ſtrangers that protection which friends have denied us.

So—there ſhe goes into Captain LA⯑VISH'S houſe: bravo, Miſs JULIANA!—and there ſhe may ſtay for me: I'll to Sir Hervey inſtantly, and let him come himſelf and fight it out: for all the legacies regiſtered in Doctors Commons ſhould not induce me to re-enter thoſe doors and receive another warm reception!

SCENE—Inſide LAVISH'S houſe, receſs, &c. as in firſt Scene of this Act.

Now you've ſearched every part of the houſe; now are you ſatisfied Miſs Sutherland is not concealed in it?—'Sdeath! to detain me at ſuch a moment—

No:—ſhe's not in the houſe I grant you; but the chaiſe! the chaiſe and four!—pray, moſt economical Captain, do you uſually travel with four horſes?

Always:—it's by far the cheapeſt plan: it ſhortens the journey, ſaves ſtopping at inns; in ſhort, the additional ſhilling is no object, and if I had but ten pounds a-year, I'd always travel with four horſes:—and now, my dear widow, allow me to ſee you home.

Take care, Sir:—diſappointed love knows no bounds; and recollect it is in my power to expoſe you to my rival:—I have your letters in my poſſeſſion,—letters in which you laugh and rail at marriage:—letters—

Nay, be patient.—There now! this it is to be dragooned into an attachment,—ſhe has me, by all that's frugal!—

—Come then, ſit down, and let us drink to the revival of our friend⯑ſhip!—See: here's famous Madeira!—ay: you may ſtare: but this too is on the cheapeſt plan I promiſe you, for while it takes two bottles of port to make me drunk, one of Madeira does it completely.— So here's to the rival—

—Why, what's that? ha!

Mercy!—ſomebody's coming!— for heaven's ſake don't let me be ſeen—I'll ſtep into this room—

Madam, where are you, madam?

Why, what is all this?—it is done on purpoſe to expoſe me!—Oh, Mr. Laviſh! if you have either feeling or gallantry, think of my ſitua⯑tion: a widow only a fortnight, and to be detected alone in a Captain's houſe!—

Well! ſtep into that receſs—quick, quick—

—So—there I have you faſt; and now—

Mr. Worry, why don't you anſwer? me, my dear Mr. Worry.

Damme, I'll Worry you—I'll anſwer you

Heaven's! Miſs Sutherland!

Mr. Laviſh! I beg pardon, Sir:— when I took refuge in this houſe, I little thought to meet you.—Good day, Sir.

What! now—the very moment that I've found you?

What can I do, Mr. Laviſh!—I own I owe you obligations—nay, more—I confeſs I could have loved you:—but I have told you my determination—you are my father's enemy—there⯑fore we cannot be friends:—farewel, Sir!

Mighty well, madam, mighty well!— but this isn't your real motive—you love another: you love this Mr. Worry!—anſwer me candidly, ma'am!—did he not run away with you?

He did!—but—

He did!—then may I run into every ſpecies of extravagance, if when I catch him, I don't give him the Newmarket flouriſh

—Where is he?—where is this Mr. Worry?

Here at your ſervice, Sir.

This my rival!—this antient, wizen, dowager-like—Don't be unmanly, Laviſh!—never ſtrike an old woman I intreat you

—Beſides now I look at him, it is! 'tis Sir Hervey's—you dear, amiable, agreeable:—one Mrs. WORRY is ſufficient for you, or the devil's in't.

Very likely, Sir: but if you have no rival in an old woman, as you pleaſe to call me, I fancy Miſs Sutherland has! when I liſtened at the door, I'll ſwear I heard the widow's voice.

The widow!—no, Juliana—I can prove myſelf as great an economiſt in love as in money.

Are you ſure you can, Sir?

Sure!—if ſince the hour I firſt beheld her, I haven't treaſured every thought, hoarded every look!—ſtored—

Pray, SIR, who does that cloak belong to?

That cloak!—Oh that cloak is one of my bargains.

Is it? then you buy very dear bargains, I fancy.—Look, madam,—

isn't it Mrs. Dazzle's?

It is: and ſince this confirms what I have long ſuſpected, I have now an additional motive for avoiding you.—Mr. Laviſh, we never meet again.—Come

I ſay, if you don't hoard your money better than your love, never think of matrimony—you'll find it too expenſive a bargain for you, I promiſe you.

Where is he? —where is Captain Laviſh?

Sir Hervey! 'Slife! what brings him here?

My father! oh Heavens! and to find me under the roof of his enemy—

And me alſo!—Mrs. Worry herſelf couldn't terrify me more.—Come along, madam, and let's leave the Captain to ſtand the brunt.—

Ay: loſe not a moment.—And oh, Mr. Laviſh! as this is the laſt time we ſhall ever meet, remember the parting words of her you once re⯑garded—Pacify my father, do not incence him—be his friend, and 'ſpite of your falſhood and unkind⯑neſs, you may ſtill be mine.

And mine—ha! ha! there's another bad bargain for him!

what's the matter?

So, Mr. Laviſh; 'tis ſtill doomed that we're to meet as enemies—where is Miſs Sutherland, Sir?

Sir Hervey, on the honour of a gentle⯑man, I know nothing of your daughter's elope⯑ment; for any further information I refer you to Mr. Worry

I ſay, who has the beſt of the bargain now?

'Sdeath! I've a great mind—

—but he is only agent;—to you as principal, I look for repa⯑ration and redreſs.—Hear me, Sir—Mrs. Dazzle, a lady of the ſtricteſt truth and honour—ſhe firſt informed me of your infamous deſigns, and now—not half an hour ago, a friend, on whoſe word I can equally rely, ſaw Miſs Sutherland enter this very houſe: therefore there is no alternative but this—inſtantly reſtore her, or—you gueſs the reſult.

I do—but I'll waſte no more powder, Sir Hervey.

How?

No: dying is certainly a cheap mode of living, and to a man in deſperate circumſtances, a duel may be a good ſaving ſcheme: but having hoarded enough to make life comfortable, why I'm a curſt fool if I don't ſave it a thouſand ways.

Poor, paltry prevarication!—Re⯑member, Mr. Laviſh, we were once friends—I treated you as a ſon—you eſteemed me as a parent—and what diſſolved that friendſhip?—you choſe to vin⯑dicate the honour of a falſe wife, and call me to the field—did I not come?

You did, Sir.

And now where is your conſiſtency?—you would bring my daughter to the ſame de⯑graded ſtate; you would reduce her to the level of her mother; and when an injured father aſks for ſatisfaction, you refuſe to give it him—what is this but cowardice? plain unequivocal cowardice!

Cowardice! ill as Miſs Sutherland has treated me, I never meant to raiſe my arm againſt her father:—but when you allude to the memory of her I owe ſuch obligations to, and ſay I would reduce her daughter to the ſame degraded ſtate—'tis paſt bearing—I can't endure it! and you may ſhoot me as ſoon as you pleaſe.

Here are the weapons then—

Hold, Sir; he is innocent, Miſs Suther⯑land is ſlandered!—the lady your friend ſaw enter this houſe was a very different perſon—it was the widow, indeed it was the widow!

Mrs. Dazzle?

Ay: 'tis ſhe that carries on an amour with the Captain; and though I can't produce her to prove it, I can at leaſt produce a part of her;—look, Sir—do you ſee this cloak?

Away! 'tis my unfeeling daughter's, and the ſight ſo heightens my reſentment—Come, Sir, wrongs like mine will brook no more delay, and you muſt either meet a coward's or a villain's fate—

Coward again!—Come, then—here's my ground!

Don't think me impertinent Sir—but while you as a man of honour think it your duty to fight a duel, I as an honeſt man think it mine to prevent it!—it's the widow! [45]upon my ſoul, it's the widow!

Diſtraction!—nay then—thus—

It's the widow!—upon my ſoul it's the widow!

Amazement!—can that be Mrs. Dazzle!

No—it's a ſtatue—you ſee it's a ſtatue.

Halloa! won't you take your cloak along with you? you'll want it to cover your ſins!

Hypocrite! I now view her in her true colours, and I am doomed to be the dupe of woman.—Mr. Laviſh, I ſee my friend was miſtaken, and I acknowledge I have wronged you.

Pſha!—I want no acknowledgment—if you wiſh to make me amends, ſtay and dine with me—mine is the ſyſtem of economy, and as I can't lay out money to better advantage than in entertaining an old friend, I'll give you a dinner fit for the court of Aldermen—I will, if I ſave it a thouſand ways.

Excuſe me, Sir—your innocence on the preſent occaſion will not do away former in⯑juries; nor will Mrs. Dazzle's bad conduct be an apology for my daughter's.—No!—whilſt I thought love the cauſe of her elopement, it was my duty to purſue and ſave her:—but ſince I ſee ſelf-intereſt is the motive, and that ſhe fled to avoid ſigning an inſtrument which would have ſaved me from diſ⯑grace, [46]and not have injured her—I ſhall no longer condeſcend to ſeek her.

'Tis no ſuch thing, Sir—and if you will go to her at Mr. Miſt's houſe—

Peace!—and inſtantly attend me home, where, if the account of your own conduct prove not ſatisfactory—

—Nay, this is no place for explanation—go on be⯑fore—Mr. Laviſh, I have the honour to wiſh you good evening!

Here's bad reckoning!—'tis well I cal⯑culate better in money matters. But what's to be done?—he ſaid ſhe was gone to Mr. Miſt's:—well! if I follow her, ſhe won't ſee me;—if I write to her, ſhe won't anſwer my letter.—Oh! ſhe's loſt!—Juliana's loſt to me for ever!

Sir, is the chaiſe to wait?

And yet,—if I could gain an interview—hark'ye, Frank—do you know any body at Mr. Miſt's the Manager's?

Yes: and ſo do you, Sir—Stopgap, who left your ſervice to go on the ſtage, is now his prompter.

That's fortunate—I'll go to him in⯑ſtantly; and if he will but do me a favour—

That he will, if you'll bribe him: only give him ten pounds—but that you know, Sir, won't ſuit your ſyſtem of economy.

Won't it?—ten pound is no object, and I've lately made ſo many good bargains, that it's d—d hard if I can't afford to throw away an odd bank note or two.—So, come along—and if after all I do live a little beyond my income, it's no fault of mine, Frank.

No! whoſe is it then, Sir?

Whoſe!—why it is the fault of thoſe ſelfiſh harpies who make economy uſeleſs—who raiſe the price of every article:—and if Sir Hervey and other fighting gentlemen would unload their piſtols on jobbers, foreſtallers, and monopolizers, their valour would be directed to the beſt purpoſes—I might live cheap, and the country would be cleared of it's worſt enemies!

SCENE—Outſide of a Theatre, and MIST'S houſe;

Gad! I hope the prompter don't want prompting:

By this 'tis ten minutes, but by my reckoning ten hours, ſince Stopgap entered this houſe with a letter for Juliana,—ſo—he comes!—he comes!

Well! what news?—have you ſeen Miſs Sutherland?

I have, and here—

Here's an anſwer to my letter.

No;—there's your letter back again—ſhe refuſed to open it, and in my preſence ordered the ſervants not to admit you into the houſe.

What! ſhe perſiſts—

Moſt obſtinately, Sir;—but ſpite of her refuſal, make it worth my while, and I'll pro⯑cure you an interview:—excuſe the hint, Sir; but if you recollect when I lived with you, you were ſo ſaving—

So I am ſtill:—worſe and worſe,—more economical than ever;—but the hope of gaining ſuch a treaſure as Juliana!—here you rogue,—here's ten pounds on the ſtrength of it

So there is;—then liſten:—the play to night is the "Road to Ruin," and Mr. Prettyman, who was to have performed Goldfinch, has juſt met with an accident:—now, Sir, having no ſubſtitute, and it being too late to change the play, ſuppoſe you wait on the Manager, and offer to ſupply his place.

I ſupply!

Why not? at the private theatre I have ſeen you act this very part:—then an interview is certain; for Mr. Miſt's houſe adjoins the theatre, and Miſs Sutherland is now in a room cloſe to the ſtage.

Is ſhe?—then I'll double Prettyman;—I'll act Goldfinch,—"that's your ſort;"—but hold, hold—don't introduce me by my own name; call me Mr. Crib, or Mr. Glib, or Mr. Squib.

I will; I'll call you Mr. Squib.—Huſh!—he comes.

How! what! London Manager!—Huſband die a London Manager!—Go on, imperial Mrs. M. P.

Nay, I only tell you that Mr. Dazzle, a ſhort time previous to his deceaſe, was in treaty for a moiety of one of the London theatres; but I cannot ſay whether he lived to complete his purchaſe;—however, I ſhall write by this poſt.

And ſo will I:—and if he did purchaſe, throne devolves to you.—Bleſs me! how majeſtic ſhe looks!—and her play.—When ſhall I hear the reſt of your moſt magnificent play?—Nay, ſpare a country monarch:—thought her great actreſs,—you [50]humble auther:—now you turn out manager, and ſhe worſe than a dummy.

Well, Sir, you know how to make atonement; your friend Mr. Alltrade wiſhes to marry this ungrateful girl, and as ſhe is now under your roof—

Enough—ſend for Alltrade, and then, "Good morrow, good Queen Mary."

I will;—I'll go write to him in⯑ſtantly;—and in return, if I do poſſeſs a London theatre, depend on't you ſhall be my ſole ma⯑nager.

Right!—I'm the man to rule behind curtain.—I'm the man to accept pieces, caſt parts, and every night ſecure an overflow;—but go, thou author of the divineſt tragedy

Never ſhall it be acted though; never ſhall ſhe act her own infernal—

Sir!—more bad luck, Sir!—Mr. Prettyman, in trying to pull on the only pair of new boots we have in the theatre, has juſt put out his ſhoulder bone, conſequently there is nobody to act Goldfinch.

Put out ſhoulder bone!—what now!—Juſt before doors open?

Even ſo, Sir; and we have lately made ſo many apologies—

True; made one laſt night, two the night before: zounds! there'll be a riot; and all owing to this ungrateful ſhamming—See how it is—benefit's over—that's it—got four pounds over expences, and till that's gone, act Road to Ruin off, inſtead of on, the ſtage; but what's to be done?—found out, Stop; d—e we ſhall be found out.

Nay: there is hope ſtill—look yonder, Sir; that gentleman is an excellent ſubſtitute; he is perfect in the part, and with your leave is ready to go on with it.—I'll introduce him—Mr. Squib, this is Mr. Miſt.

Sir, your moſt devoted—

Servant, my lad; ſervant—ſo, call yourſelf an actor! heh! hem!

I do—at your ſervice, Sir.

My ſervice!—he! he!—that's another matter—ſee you act firſt—if miſs, exit Squib—if hit, enter at half a guinea a week.

Pſha!—money's no object.

No!

No, I've ſaved a fortune, Mr. Manager, and am ſo attached to the ſtage, that I'll not only act gratis, but when there are not expences in the houſe, I'll be bound to pay them—I will, if I ſave it a thouſand ways.

Will you?—oh that I had a whole com⯑pany like him!—why you're a high fellow!

‘To be ſure—know the odds—hold four in hand—beat the mail—come in full ſpeed—rattle down the gateway—take care of your heads—never killed but one woman and a child in all my life—that's your ſort!’

Bravo!—capital!—and no ſalary!—my dear Mr. Squib—all gratitude—all thankfulneſs—by and bye rule a London theatre—perhaps Co⯑vent Garden—Know preſent acting manager!

What!

Mum!—kick him out, whip you in.

That's right—kick out preſent ſtupid acting manager, and whip me in;—but come along—isn't it time to dreſs?

Not quite; juſt time to crack bottle, and draw up apology—muſt get one ready written:—much warfare lately—laſt night affronted audience myſelf.

Yourſelf! how?

Tell you:—whenever theatre's thin, always get drunk.

In the name of heaven, why?

He! he! he!—'cauſe it makes me ſee double—ſo going to take a peep, miſtook my way, and in dagger ſcene of Macbeth, reeled upon the ſtage, and ſtaggered up to lamps!—never ſo well received before;—delighted with applauſe, ſtood ſmiling and bowing, till Macbeth bore me off, 'midſt the ſhouting and huzzaing of a genteel, though not a numerous, audience—Expect buſtle to night in conſequence—ſo muſt knock under a little—not too much though—I'm Manager—heh!—hem!—but come along; and over bottle drink ſucceſs—

There's no occaſion; my Goldfinch never failed—"that's your ſort!"

SCENE—A grand Saloon in Sutherland Houſe—Maſks diſcovered dancing.

From Mrs. Dazzle, you ſay; perhaps ſome news of Miſs Sutherland.

‘Juliana is at Mr. Miſt's, and he completely in our in⯑tereſt.—Come directly, and if Sir Hervey has given you his conſent, make him write it to [53]his daughter: and if he objects to that from motives of pride and delicacy, bid him write to the Manager, and entreat him to enforce his command: this ſhewn to Juliana will ſecure all;—ſhe will forfeit the legacy, and a third of my huſband's eſtate will be yours!’—Excel⯑lent! and he has given me his conſent—what's here? a poſtſcript!—

‘If Juliana has ſigned the bond, don't mention it to Sir Hervey—he'll expect money, and at preſent you know we have none to give him.’—True: and the bond is already diſpoſed of; for if all elſe fail, that will be a grand reſource.—My compliments to Mrs. Dazzle, and I'll wait upon her preſently.

Alltrade! my friend!—I'm glad I've found you—

Why, what agitates you?

I'm ruined—I'm expoſed—look—do you ſee thoſe maſks?

I do—what of them?

Huſh.

Bailiffs!

Ay, an execution for a thouſand pounds, and a writ againſt my perſon for nearly the ſame ſum.—And now, in the meridian of my ſplendor, I am to meet the ſcorn of all around me; now, in the midſt of friends—but be it ſo—a gaol can't yield me leſs ſubſtantial joy than this unmeaning, artificial ſcene.

Come, come, don't rail at that which, till now, gave you happineſs.

Never.—What has it afforded me? days of diſtreſs, and nights of fever and diſgrace: borrowing one day, to pay double the next; flying to the gaming-table—ſacrificing fortune, health, honour—and for what?—to appear faſhion⯑able; to make a falſe diſplay of wealth; and fritter away life in the ſociety of knaves I deteſt, and fools I deſpiſe.—Call you this happineſs?—No, 'tis de⯑ſperation, 'tis delirium!

Nay, be compoſed; there is ſtill a way to ſave you. You know this diſtreſs would have been avoided had your daughter ſigned the bond.

Name her not—I do not wiſh to curſe her.

Well, but if ſhe will ſtill ſign—and remember our converſation this morning—on your wiſhing ſhe had a huſband to protect her, and my naming myſelf, you were pleaſed to ſay ſhe could not be in better hands.

I did—but what has this to do with—

Every thing.—Let the marriage take place, and I, in the character of huſband, can ex⯑ecute the bond myſelf. Then theſe debts will be diſcharged, and all go well again. Come, though you ſay you don't diſlike a priſon, I am too much your friend to ſee you put to the trial.

Well, I own I dread the expoſure and diſgrace.

Then to avoid it, write a ſtrong letter to your daughter; ſtate that her accepting my hand can alone ſave you from ruin.

I write!—I condeſcend!

Nay then, to make it leſs irkſome to your feelings, write to the gentleman under whoſe [55]protection ſhe has placed herſelf; bid him exert his influence.—Come, ſtep with me into the next room, and I'll dictate the contents.

Well, do with me what you will; but I've but little hope.

And I'm moſt ſanguine; and before to-night is paſt, you ſhall again enjoy this ſcene of ſplendid revelry.

What, when I view it in its proper light?—No, my friend; ſtrip diſſipation of its robe of faſhion—ſhew it in its naked deformity—ſee it ſurrounded by its offspring, poverty, ſuicide, de⯑ſpair, and madneſs!—and who would be weak enough to purſue it?—But lead on, I obey your wiſhes.

So, I have ſent the letter.—I know not why, I trembled as I wrote it; and at the thought of thus diſpoſing of my child, my fore⯑boding heart—but I dare think no more—let the dance go on.

Oh, Sir!—ſuch news!—didn't you ſay Miſs Sutherland hadn't ſigned the bond?

I did: and but now my friend Alltrade—

Your friend!—only liſten, Sir—my nephew, I'm ſorry to mention it, is an attorney; and he had the impudence to call here and aſk for a ticket for your maſked ball. Says he, ‘I can [56]ſupport a character.’—Says I, ‘That's impoſ⯑ſible, becauſe you've no character to ſupport.’— ‘Nay,’ ſays he, ‘I'm grown honeſt ſince I ſaw you.’—‘Oh! you are, are you?’ ſays I; ‘then pray walk up; novelty at a maſquerade is every thing.’

Pſha! what's this to me?

You ſhall hear, Sir. I am more ſorry to mention he is Mr. Alltrade's attorney; and, by his orders, has juſt taken the bond to Miſs Suther⯑land, at Mr. Miſt's.

Indeed! and what was the reſult?

What! why the moment he ſhewed her your name at the bottom of it, ſhe burſt into tears; then taking up the pen, ſhe exclaimed, ‘Though my father is unmindful of my diſtreſſes, I can never forget his; and were it to doom me to impriſonment or death, I would execute with pleaſure.’

How! and did ſhe—

She did.—And another thing—you muſt have ſigned the bond without reading it: in⯑ſtead of two years, 'tis payable on demand.

'Tis falſe! I'll not believe a word.

I thought ſo—I thought this would be the caſe; and therefore I perſuaded my nephew to truſt me with it—

—Look, here is at once a proof of your friend's villainy and your daughter's virtue!—See how you have wronged her, and how he has wronged you. But the wi⯑dow, ſhe is the arch agent! and talk of gentlemen of the long robe, curſe me but I believe there's more miſchief under one gown than another!

‘Juliana Suther⯑land!’—

—Where is ſhe, where is my daughter?

How I do you mean—

I do; I mean to prove myſelf her father: the bitter ſecret long has rankled here, but now I can divulge it: and if a ſhattered heart can once more vibrate at the touch of joy, it will be when I claſp my wronged, exalted child!—Come, let us fly!

Ay, the faſter the better.—I'm ſo happy!—If Mrs. Worry were in Heaven, I couldn't be happier!—

Excuſe us, Sir Hervey, we cannot part with you; and unleſs the debt is inſtantly paid, we muſt conduct you to priſon.

To priſon!

Ay; behold my well timed puniſh⯑ment!—Now, on the brink of happineſs, I am to meet the ſure reward of deſperation and extra⯑vagance!

Nay, why upbraid yourſelf, Sir Hervey? a man of your rank couldn't live ſhabbily.

No; but I might have lived honor⯑ably; I might have lived within my income; that is the barrier no man of true honour ever paſſes: and if ſtealing on the highway be puniſhed with death, why ſhould the more refined robber, who defrauds the induſtrious tradeſman of the hard earnings by which he is to ſupport his family, why ſhould he eſcape?—Oh! let no man boaſt the proud name of gentleman, who contracts debts he cannot pay!—But I attend you—lead on—and yet—Diſtraction!—William!

Sir!

The worſt I had forgotten: you know not half your maſter's weakneſs, half his [58]villany!—not an hour ago I wrote a letter, and commanded my daughter to marry—

Whom, Sir?

The worſt, the vileſt of mankind!

Mr. Alltrade?

Yes; I, her father, in return for all her fondneſs and affection, commanded her to link herſelf to infamy, diſhonour!—But is it yet too late to ſave her?—will ſhe not be merciful?—oh! will ſhe not diſobey me?

No, ſhe's ſo affectionate, that the mo⯑ment ſhe reads the letter—

Ay, but perhaps ſhe has not yet received it.—Go, loſe not a moment; 'tis di⯑rected to the gentleman at whoſe houſe ſhe now reſides.

I'll go; I'll do all I can to ſave her: and, in the mean time, pray keep up your ſpirits, Sir: indeed, indeed you deſerve a better fate.

No, I deſerve it all!—think what I am, and what I might have been!—now an outcaſt and a beggar, dragged from my home, and plunged into a priſon!—and, but for faſhion and its errors, that houſe had been a heaven!—But my child!— go—be ſwifter than the letter—ſave her from ſee⯑ing what will make her curſe me; and, whilſt it dooms her to eternal miſery, will be an everlaſting evidence of my diſgrace!

SCENE—An Apartment in MIST's Houſe.

'Tis he! 'tis Alltrade! now for it!—now if Sir Hervey has but conſented to the marriage.—

Oh, I'm ſo anxious.—

—Well! what ſucceſs? will the match take place?—ſhall I inherit my huſband's eſtate?

You will! this letter from Sir Hervey to Mr. Miſt will explain and ſecure every thing.

Let me ſee—

‘To Mr. Miſt.—Sir, My daughter having placed herſelf under your protection, I am induced to think you have an influence over her, though her father has none; therefore let me entreat you to exert it, by perſuading her to accept the hand of my friend Mr. Alltrade, and aſſure her that her marriage with that gentleman can alone ſave me from ruin, or lead to the re⯑conciliation, ſhe has ſo long pretended to wiſh for.—HERVEY SUTHERLAND.’

There! ſhe's too dutiful to refuſe.

Oh, the thought of ſaving him from ruin would of itſelf induce her to conſent; but the hope of a reconciliation alſo!—delightful! charming! Go, take the letter to Mr. Miſt, and bid him come and ſhew it Juliana directly.

I will.

And, d'ye hear; then away to a parſon: in the mean time I'll get a licence, and in leſs than half an hour the marriage ſhall take place in this very room.

Madam, here's a Mr. Worry—

Don't admit him; remember you have orders to admit nobody.—

Away! diſpatch, my friend; and now Miſs Juliana, I defy you! neither your father nor your lover, no, not even the economical Captian, can ſave his darling treaſure now.

Can't he? he'll try a thouſand ways though.—'Sdeath! no ſooner recon⯑ciled to Juliana—no ſooner convinced her of my truth and affection, than I'm to ſee her—If ſhe reads the letter; all's over! for her laſt words were, ‘I will marry no man, but the one my father ſelects for me.’—and now, when his ruin and a reconciliation depend on her conſenting—plague on't! I could play the fool and weep: yes, I'm no niggard here!

—and if I can purchaſe her ſafety even at the loſs of my life, I ſhall reckon it the beſt bargain I ever made.

Very well, I'll deliver letter—I'll make widow amends.

Here he comes, and in his poſſeſſion what will for ever ruin me and Juliana; nay, alſo Sir Hervey:—I'm ſure he's under ſome dreadful error; and if I can ſave his daughter at this moment, my triumph will be ten times greater than in fight⯑ing him;—yes, that I ſhall call honourable ſatis⯑faction. What can I deviſe?—ſee the letter ſhe ſhall not! and there is no way to prevent it but by getting this credulous old manager out of the room. Let me ſee—I have it!—he talked of a riot in his theatre!—it will do! it will do!

So, here's Sir Hervey's letter; and I'm to ſhew it Miſs Suther⯑land; and enforce marriage, and—u.u-up!

methinks I ſee double again—me⯑thinks—no—no I'm not on ſtage now, 'cauſe hear no applauſe: drunk or ſober, ſure to en⯑courage ſuch a promiſing young actor.

Drunk too!—better and better!

He! he! he!—wonder how Mr. Squib—how Mr. No Salary's going on?—ſays he, ‘I'm a private actor!’—‘Hem,’ ſays I, ‘more private the better:’—hope they accept him though; hope they let him double Prettyman; if not, here's ſuch an apology!

—ſuch a beautiful, witty compoſition; but hold:—now to ſee Miſs Sutherland!

And now to pre⯑vent you.

—Oh, Sir, I was juſt going for you: the riot is begun,—the whole theatre is in an uproar.

Devil! what!—want Prettyman?

No, they want you—Tell you how it was—Stopgap went on, and claimed their uſual in⯑dulgence—on which a little tiger-faced fellow ex⯑claimed from the pit, ‘We'll bear it no longer!— if the Manager will conſtantly make apologies, play the beſt parts, act his own farces, get drunk, and reel upon the ſtage, why the theatre is a nui⯑ſance!’

A nuiſance!

Ay: ‘And either let him come and account for his conduct, or let us treat it as a nui⯑ſance:—let [62]us pull it down!’—He was ſtrongly ſupported; and I left the whole houſe calling "Manager! Manager!"—ſo go—go directly

I go! I account!—to whom:—to a five pound houſe!—to a tiger-faced gentleman, and a dozen more ungrateful, taſteleſs ſcoundrels—I!

Taſteleſs!

Yes: haven't I done every thing!—turn'd author, actor, engaged Harlequin, and half ruined myſelf to pleaſe 'em?—and now—look 'ye, Mr. Squib, here's my apology—

—if that will ſatisfy 'em, let Stop read it—if not, and they ſtill abuſe me as acting manager, ſee how they like me in another character—acting magiſtrate!—Damme! myſelf and two conſtables 'll take the whole houſe!

By heaven, he has miſtaken!—'tis Sir Hervey's letter!

—Yes! that will do: give me that apology, and I'll anſwer for every body being ſatisfied—nay! there's no time for heſitation—they abſolutely threatened to make you go down on your knees.

His knees!—a Manager on his knees!—that for 'em!

Nay; the apology—'tis, 'tis Sir Hervey's hand!

—Give me the apology.

That for 'em! won't—won't condeſcend to let 'em hear even apology now.

No!—'Sdeath: I've marr'd every thing.

No: ſoon manage London audience, and not even to them—but they know better—and were I before 'em at this moment—inſtead of [63]aſking for apology—inſtead of approving this mean cowardly piece of writing, they'd applaud me for deſtroying it—they would!—ſo there!—preſerved my character both as man and as Manager!

You have! and Juliana's preſerved and I'm preſerved!—

— ‘Here am I, widow—been to Hatchet's—beſpoke wed⯑ding coach—all flaſh—damn the expence—that's your ſort.’

You here, Sir!—Mr. Miſt, have you ſhewn Miſs Sutherland her father's letter?

No; and can't ſtay to do it now—muſt go quell riot—muſt talk to tiger-fac'd gentleman—

Nay: if you wiſh to make me amends, I inſiſt you do it inſtantly, and let me be eye witneſs of his mortification and her deſpair—Come forth, Miſs Juliana!—

—Now, Mr. Miſt, where is Sir Hervey's letter?

Here

Then read it, and ſecure my triumph.

I will—hem!

— ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, the diſagreeable dilemma to which I am reduced—’

Why, you miſtake—let me read.—

— ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, the diſagreeable dilemma to which I am reduced—’ why what's this paper?

An apology—that I'm ready to offer you, though not audience—I'm very ſorry, but can't ſtay to explain now—

Aſtoniſhing!—why, what's be⯑come of Sir Hervey's letter?

What I

—You take the hint—muſt go to tiger faced gentleman—you take the hint.

What can he mean!—I'll follow him, and have the matter explained inſtantly—and don't fancy to eſcape, Miſs Juliana; for Sir Hervey ſhall come himſelf and enforce his conſent; and if that fails,—the bond—look to the bond—Oh, you may ſmile, Sir

but you'll find re⯑venge is ſtill in my power.

You hear, Miſs Sutherland; and to avoid the danger with which you are threatened take my advice and be beforehand with them.—Fly to your father—throw yourſelf at his feet—en⯑treat his protection—

I will; there is no other hope—go where I will, they ſtill purſue and perſecute me.—Yes! I'll to my father!

Come then—allow me to conduct you—and if I too throw myſelf at his feet, and he no longer thinks me his enemy—

Alas! even then, Mr. Laviſh—con⯑ſider. I am ſo deſtitute of every hope of fortune—

Fortune! oh, if that's all the difficulty, it's only to leſſen our expences—to live on a narrow ſcale:—inſtead of a houſe in Groſvenor-ſquare, we muſt be content with one in Groſvenor-ſtreet:—inſtead of four horſes, we muſt drive only a pair:—and to avoid gaming and giving great enter⯑tainments, we muſt go every night to the play or the opera.—But come—and though thus far I ſhall ſtint you, my dear Juliana, in every other reſpect I'll indulge you to the laſt ſhilling—I will, if I ſave it a thouſand ways!

SCENE—The Court-yard of a Priſon, Wall and great Gates in back Scene; on each Side Apartments in the Priſon, and O. P. Steps leading up to a Door.—Moonlight.

Nay, let me entreat you, Sir, retire to your chamber!—you forget you are in a priſon.

But are you ſure my daughter is not Alltrade's wife?

I am, Sir! and that ſhe owes her deli⯑verance to the generous exertions of Captain Laviſh.

—There—you hear, Sir!—now pray, pray retire.

Well! conduct me; and in the morning wait on Captain Laviſh, and expreſs my warmeſt gratitude.—

Aye, that I will, Sir! and make every inquiry after Miſs Sutherland:— but now, Sir!

—Bleſs me! this is a moſt unconſcionable ſort of place! —neither let people in or out!—'tis deviliſh hard:—I dare ſay the gentle⯑man has as much right to be here as any body!—This way, Sir, this way!

Come, come!—now all's ſafe!—though if we had'nt contrived to ſeparate her from Captain Laviſh by means of a forged letter—

Ay, that was my planning!—ſo here you are, Miſs! arreſted on your bond for five thouſand pounds;—and you know Mr. Alltrade's terms!—either ſign a contract of marriage—

That I never will.

Good night then.

Stay!—ſpare me but a moment!—unuſed to this ſcene of terror and diſtreſs, unleſs ſome friendly hand is ſtretched to ſave me, I muſt e'en fall and periſh here!—Oh, I am faint! quite—quite ſick at heart.

You'd better ſign the contract then.

Never! never!

—They're gone:—now, Juliana, ſummon all your courage!—alone,—unprotected! in the worſt place, amongſt the worſt ſociety; ſeparated from the man you love, deſerted by the father you revere, and ſo deprived of every hope of aid, that, ſhould you linger on for years, here, here at laſt muſt be your grave!

—Heavens! what noiſe is that?—a ſet of the moſt needy and moſt deſperate!

Again!—they come this way—and I am left to be the victim of their brutality!—I can't ſupport it!—I faint with terror!—Oh, help! help!

Surely I heard a woman's voice,—and ſeemingly in much diſtreſs!—'tis ſo!—poor wretch!—ſhe ſcarcely breathes:—Within there!

—give your aſſiſtance! help me to raiſe this poor unfortunate.

I will, I will!

—Merciful powers!

Ha! what alarms you?—do you know her?

I do!

Who is it?—what brings her here? ſpeak!—has ſhe no friends? no relations?

Yes:—ſhe has a father!

Barbarian!—could he not prevent—

He could, but—aſk your own heart! mine would burſt to ſpeak it.

How?

Ay, your much wronged daughter!—who evidently has been brought here on the bond ſhe ſigned to ſave you!—but don't—don't be unhap⯑py, Sir! I'll go directly for aſſiſtance.

Fly! begone!

—can I behold all this, and live?—Poor girl!—the very features of—Oh, God! Oh, God!

Give me air!—So; I am much, much better.

Indeed!—I am glad, cordially glad: ha! ha!

—you've ſaved my life!

Your life!—ſuch kindneſs from a ſtran⯑ger!—Oh! in this place I little thought to find a friend!

And do you call me friend!

I hope I may! you ſeem to take an intereſt in my ſufferings.

I do—I do! and well I know the author of them all!—too well I know the father that has cauſed them.

My father! do you know my father?—Oh, when you ſee him, don't tell him you found me in priſon! that would afflict him, and it would double my miſery to add to his!—don't—pray don't tell him, Sir.

Why not?—why feel for him who never felt for you! has he not from your infancy deſerted you?—has he not ſhut his doors againſt you? and, inſtead of being your friend and protector, has he not proved himſelf your enemy—your per⯑ſecutor?

Well! if he has, Sir?

Did he not thwart you in your affec⯑tions,—tear you from the man you love, and com⯑mand you to marry him you hate?—and after theſe accumulated injuries, and you had involved yourſelf to ſupport him, what was his return? ingratitude! what was your inheritance? poverty! —what has been your reward? a priſon!—Oh, villain! villain!—worſt of villains!

Villain!—hold your unlicenſed tongue. Villain!—who are you that dare thus accuſe my father?

A libertine; whoſe diſſipation drove his wife into ſuch ſcenes of error and remorſe that ſhe died of a broken heart!—an outcaſt! who, not content with that, would have reduced his daughter to the ſame unhappy fate!—a wretch! who, abandoned her not for her own conduct, but her mother's!—who brought her to a priſon!—who [69]ſees her there without the hope of ſaving her!—or, to ſum up all in one emphatic word—to give the aggregate of complicated infamy—I am your father!

My father!

Ay, look at me!—view me well—do you not ſhudder at the hideous ſight? will you not curſe—avoid me as a peſtilence?—a fiend!

No: I will cling to you!—thus grow for ever round you!

—My father! my dear, dear father!

Juliana, be merciful!—load me with reproaches—this kindneſs will deſtroy me!

Reproach you!—what, at the moment I have ſound you?—no: let me but be near you, and I will bleſs the hour that brought me to this place!—for it has given me the utmoſt wiſhes of my ſoul—it has reſtored to me a parent!

There! 'tis as I expected; they are re⯑conciled—look! have you the heart to interrupt their joy?

Sir Hervey, I have no wiſh but to give you both liberty; and if you will fulfil your promiſe, by perſuading Miſs Sutherland to accept my hand—nay: why frown?—you ſee I come as a friend.

Friend! away—I'm weary of the very word.

What! weary of friendſhip, Sir Her⯑vey!

Ay, Sir; time was, when friend⯑ſhip wore a bold and open aſpect, and as it ſpoke [70]it acted: but now 'tis maſked; and underneath it lurks all modern villany. Who betrayed my wife? a friend!—who belied my child? a friend!—who immured her in a gaol, and if ſhe does not proſtitute her hand and heart, will ſee her pe⯑riſh there—who, but my friend!—Can my enemy thus injure me?—No; in him I place no confi⯑dence or truſt; and henceforth let me rather meet a thouſand foes than the deſigning arts of one falſe friend.

Well, as you pleaſe—

—here is Miſs Sutherland's diſcharge; but ſince you don't chooſe to accede to my propoſals, good night

Nay, let me entreat you, Mr. All⯑trade.

And let me entreat you, Mr. Alltrade.

No, I can be obſtinate in my turn—good night.

Then let me entreat you, Mr. Alltrade—nay, don't think to eſcape, Sir—Bleſs you! you are quite miſtaken; Mr. Alltrade's the moſt kind, obliging—The diſcharge—give me the diſcharge, you ſcoundrel—or elſe, Newmarket in the firſt place

and high life in the ſe⯑cond

Well, Sir—ſince you inſiſt, Sir—

I do; and be quick—diſpatch—

Oh, this is the very thing I ſuppoſe—

— ‘By this my laſt will, I Jeremiah Dazzle give and be⯑queath’—

Stop, ſtop—that's the wrong paper—here, here's the diſcharge.

Very well—a good economiſt pockets every thing—

‘all the property of which I die poſ⯑ſeſſed, unto that moſt amiable—Juliana Sutherland.’—Amazement!

There—you take care of that, Sir Hervey, whilſt I take care of Mr.—

—what! gone!—I'll follow him—I'll—but no—we've got all we want from him—and ſo, 'ſpite of our former animoſities, Sir Hervey, allow me to congratulate you.

No, Sir; my hopes are vaniſhed, I find here the fortune is conditional:—if my daughter marries, it devolves to Mrs. Dazzle.

If ſhe marries?

Ay, Sir!—while ſhe remains ſingle, ſhe may roll in affluence, and I be reſtored to all my former ſplendor;—but will that give either of us con⯑ſolation? No; my own ſad example has taught me the reverſe; and therefore, mark me, Juliana—I wiſh to make atonement, to give you fixed, un⯑ceaſing happineſs;—and having proved myſelf un⯑fit to guard ſo dear a charge,—let him who beſt deſerves, let him protect you!

Him!—whom, Sir?

Him!—Ac⯑cept her, Mr. Laviſh,—take her as the beſt re⯑compence for all the wrongs I've done you.—Nay, I know the penalty:—I know, by marrying you ſhe forfeits this eſtate; and for your ſake I wiſh it had accompanied her; but for my own!—at laſt [72]I've acted as a parent ought, and though theſe gates are ever ſhut againſt me, I know my daugh⯑ter's happy, and that thought will give what wealth can never purchaſe;—a quiet conſcience and un⯑bròken reſt.

Sir Hervey, you have acted nobly—but—

But what?—You are ſufficiently affluent to maintain her.

No; there's the curſe on't: I thought I had ſaved a fortune;—but juſt now, when I heard of your mutual diſtreſs, and drew bills on my ſteward and my banker, they refuſed payment;—to my aſtoniſhment they ſaid I hadn't a ſhil⯑ling!—there you ſee, there's the end of my econo⯑my!

And you'd have paid my debts—you'd have releaſed your enemy?

Ay, that I would, if I'd ſaved it a thou⯑ſand ways;—but to marry on ſuch conditions!—No—I'll die firſt.

And ſo will I; and hard as it is, here let us ſeparate, Mr. Laviſh.

Never!—never ſhall you be divided!—and though we can expect no liberality from Mrs. Dazzle, yet under all the circumſtances ſhe may be induced to compromiſe—perhaps allow us a moiety, or a third.

Ay, or any thing,—if ſhe'll only allow us two hundred a-year, with my management I'll be bound we'll all live comfortably;—I'll go make her propoſals inſtantly, and don't fear my ſucceſs;—for at a bargain,—never was ſuch a fellow at making a bargain.

Adieu, Mr. Laviſh; pray Heaven you may ſucceed!

So ſay I: and if ſhe don't come to an amicable adjuſtment, conteſt the will, and employ my nephew to file a bill in Chancery againſt her.

No, that will never do: rather give up the whole property than go to law.—Come, that's good economy, or the devil's in it.

Come, Juliana, in my apartments we'll wait his return.—

: You alſo, faithful, conſtant friend!

How ſhall I thank you? how repay—

Repay!—Look! are you not reconciled? Isn't that repaying me?—Oh! I am the happieſt fellow living!—No—I forgot Mrs. Worry.

SCENE—A Street in the Town.

Don't talk to me, Sir.—The will diſcovered!

I tell you it was no fault of mine, and my lyfe on't Miſs Sutherland will marry the Captain, and ſtill forfeit the bequeſt.

She marry! ſhe marry! non⯑ſenſe! Haven't I this inſtant ſeen the faithleſs Cap⯑tain, and isn't it exactly as I ſuſpected?—Take my word for it, Juliana will keep the eſtate and her lover too.

How! what mean you?

Mean? that the Captain never thought of making her his wife; and the father, to gain his liberty and five thouſand a-year, will be [74]unprincipled enough to conſent to his daughter's diſgrace.

Oh, I underſtand now:—live together without marrying.

Ay; Mr. Laviſh not only didn't deny the infamous ſcheme, but abſolutely offered me two hundred a-year if I'd give up all claim under my huſband's will; if not, he ſaid he and Juliana would go to Italy, and live on the profits. What ſhall I do?—deprived of my huſband's eſtate, I'm abſolutely pennyleſs.

I know; and you ſee they are de⯑cided; therefore, why heſitate?—two hundred a-year is certainly better than nothing.

True; and as I have no other hope,—John, go to Mr. Laviſh, ſay I accede to his propoſals, and if he'll bring an agreement to my houſe, I'll ſign directly.

Oh! that it ſhould come to this;—but I'll expoſe them—I'll—

From Mr. Miſt, Madam;—it is of the utmoſt conſequence, and requires an immediate anſwer

Indeed!

Yes, Madam;—he has this moment received poſitive information, that Mr. Dazzle died poſſeſſed of half a London theatre; and as you are his widow, Madam—but the letter will explain.

‘Majeſtic Mrs. M. P.—only time to ſay, forget paſt bad management—accept hand and fortune; we'll inſtantly act [75]Benedict and Beatrice.—Doors to be opened at eight, and performance begin preciſely at nine, Vivant Rex et Regina!—P.M.—. N. B. Would have waited on you in perſon, but Harlequin and ſlow waggon are juſt arrived.’ Delightful! glorious!—now I am rich enough to defy the Captain and his aſſociates:—My compli⯑ments to Mr. Miſt, I'll wait upon him inſtantly, and the ſooner the marriage takes place, the hap⯑pier it will make me. (STOPGAP exit.)—Come, Mr. Alltrade, you ſhall ſhare my good fortune, and when the Captain brings the agreement, how I ſhall laugh at him; I now deſpiſe, as much as I once loved him.

SCENE—Inſide of a Theatre.

Forfeit 'em,—I'll forfeit 'em.—Harlequin arrived!—firſt call new pantomime, and not an actor come to rehearſal;—vagabonds!—all envy—all jealouſy;—dread his immortal powers, and want to knock him up;—won't do though—not eaſily put out of countenance.

Joy! I give you joy, Sir; Mrs. Dazzle conſents.

What! doors opened at eight.

Ay, and performance begin at nine.

And no money returned after curtain's drawn up!—tol de roll, toll, loll:—I'm a real London Manager!—that,

that for this half or rather no priced toy-ſhop:—but where is ſhe?—where's the imperial Mrs. M. P.

She'll be here directly, and Mr. Squib alſo: I met him in the ſtreet, and on my telling him you were about to marry Mrs. Dazzle for the ſake of her theatrical property, he ſaid you were groſsly impoſed upon, and that he'd wait upon you, and explain the matter inſtantly:—and ſee, here he comes.

He explain! pſha! what does he know about—

—Excuſe me, Mr. Squib, can't talk to ſtrollers now; I'm real—a Royal Lon⯑don Manager.

So am I; I'm a real Royal London Manager.

You!—good, very good; and you've got old Dazzle's ſhare, ſuppoſe?

Yes, and I've got old Dazzle's ſhare, ſuppoſe.

Better and better!—in right of the heireſs too?

Yes, in right of the heireſs too.

What, you mean to marry the widow?

No, damn me if I do; and if I did, that wouldn't help me.

No!

No; the theatre is not hers, it belongs to Miſs Sutherland—

—here it is under old Dazzle's hand: here's another apology, read it, and then once more— ‘Ladies and Gentle⯑men, the diſagreeable dilemma to which I am reduced’—ha! ha! there's a Manager for you!

Where is my life, my lord, my huſband?

There, you read the will, while I talk to the heireſs.—

—So, widow, here's the agreement.

Then you may take it back again; I ſhan't ſign it.

No!

No; my marriage with Mr. Miſt makes me ſufficiently rich and independent to re⯑fuſe the paltry offer; and I can now ſhew the world that I'm above being a party in ſo infamous a tranſaction! ſo I wiſh you a pleaſant tour to Italy, good Signor Laviſhini.

You're wrong! it's a mighty pretty in⯑come:—I'd be bound to keep a carriage on two hundred a-year.

Very likely: but you have your anſwer, Sir.

Yes: Miſs Suther⯑land's heireſs!—Mr. Squib Manager.

And I'm dethroned:—exit Miſt.

Look! there's my dear intended! Now, Sir, ſee me take poſſeſſion of his hand and ate.—Oh, Mr. Miſt!

I have a thought, Sir! rhaps Miſs Sutherland may wiſh to ſell—and through Mr. Squib's intereſt, and by ſecuring him the deputyſhip—

I may get purchaſe! well prompted, Stop—we'll pay court to new monarch;—now mind, one of beſt benefit bows.—

Delightful man!—with what awe he approaches me!—you ſee, Signor—you ſee!

Royal Mr. Squib—ſee your authority, and humbly—

Why, Mr. Miſt, I'm on this ſide.

I know! but I am on the other ſide: a good Manager always goes with the ruling party:—any reparation to you or the heireſs, Mr. Squib! would ſhe chooſe the freedom? or you take a be⯑nefit?—play myſelf, and give you firſt night of new pantomime.

You ſee, Signora, you ſee!—why if you're in earneſt, Mr. Miſt, Miſs Sutherland's fa⯑ther is in priſon, and as this Will gives him no ready money—

I take—what's the debt?

A trifle!—but a thouſand pounds, which in the courſe of a month I can ſave and repay you!—or if that ſecurity don't content you, you ſhall have a mortgage on the theatre.

That's it; that's the beſt ſecurity on earth! far better than meadows and corn fields!—people will go without bread, but, bleſs 'em! never with⯑out plays!—Come along, Stop—priſon only next door—gaoler take my word:—re enter with Sir Hervey inſtantly.

Why, are you mad, Sir?—will you again diſappoint and deceive me?

Deceive you!—hem!—who concealed will?—paſſed off for Manager, and turns out only author?—who under falſe pretences would have pocketed all my ſcenes, dreſſes, and decorations?—No, no—you deceived me; and therefore, ‘Mary, once more I follow thee! and ſo, Good morrow, good Queen Elizabeth!’

Barbarian! Savage!—this is the third time he has made a dupe of me, Mr. Laviſh!

—I'll ſign the agreement, Mr. Laviſh!

Excuſe me!—I'm above being a party in ſo infamous a tranſaction.

Nay: when you conſider the ſmallneſs of the ſum, and that I bind myſelf to give up all claim under my huſband's will:—

Why, that's true; and ſeriouſly ſpeaking two hundred a-year is no object; and therefore, I'll indulge you?—ſign directly, and I'll indulge you!

The ſooner the better!—I long to be out of the monſter's houſe!—here's pen and ink.

And here's the agreement!

Take care—conſider you're a new per⯑former, Sir Hervey—you alſo, Miſs M. P. mind the traps.

Sir, I know not how to expreſs my thanks or my aſtoniſhment.

Huzza! Sir Hervey, I give you joy—Miſs Sutherland, I give you joy—here it is, ſigned and ſealed.—Mrs. Dazzle generouſly takes two hun⯑dred a-year, and gives up all claim under her huſband's will—there! there's a bargain maker for you!

Is this true, Madam?

True!—you know I've been tricked into it.

You have—you trick'd yourſelf into it.

Myſelf!

Ay! you would be indulged; and as here is now no longer any bar to our union, with [80]this lady's

and her father's leave allow me to introduce you to Mrs. Laviſh elect.

How! your wife!

Ay; you thought I'd call her by another name; but I am ſtill old faſhioned enough to think the word "wife," heightens happineſs and gives a zeſt to love!—

—Nay, don't blame me!—you have to thank yourſelf for the whole tranſaction; and when any body makes falſe charges, I hope I ſhall be al⯑ways too good an economiſt not to make them pay for them.

You take the hint!—you take the hint!

Oh, I ſhall go wild—I—

Gently—you'll be down the trap.

So, Miſs, you mean to allow me only this paltry—

No, Madam!—with my huſband's per⯑miſſion the annuity ſhall be doubled.—The widow of my benefactor muſt be more amply provided for.

Certainly!—I can ſave it a thouſand ways!—And now, Mr. Miſt, as we ſhall certainly diſpoſe of our theatrical property, you ſhall be the purchaſer—Only mind, I make the bargain—never was ſuch a fellow at making bargains!

Name your own terms—only let me be London Manager!—Oh, for the opening!—Oh, for the firſt night!—After Hamlet, what an ad⯑dreſs will I make to them?

Addreſs! why what will you ſay?

Tell you— ‘Ladies and Gentlemen—on the part of the company in general, and myſelf [81]as proprietor, author, actor, and manager in particular—confeſs faults—acknowledge obliga⯑tions—and humbly entreat your uſual candour and indulgence.’—Then getting nearer the lamps— ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, to-morrow and following evening, with your permiſſion, this play will be repeated!’