at Paris, with a privilege forgót by the marquis, an indisputable right to cheat at cards, in spite of detection. Mar. Pardon me, sir, we have the same; but I thought this privilege so known and universal, that 'twas needless to mention it. Buck. You give up nothing, I find: but to tell you my blunt thoughts in a word, if any woman can be so abandoned, as to rank amongst the comforts of matrimony, the privilege of hating her husband, and the liberty of committing every folly and every vice contained in your catalogue, she may stay single for me; for, damn me, if I am a husband fit for her humour! that's all. Mar. I told you, mademoiselle! Luc. But stay; what have you to offer as a counterbalance for these pleasures? Buck. Why, I have, madam, courage to pro tect you, good-nature to indulge your love, and health enough to make gallants useless, and too good a fortune to render running in debt necessary. Find that here, if you can. Mar. Bagatelle! Luc. Spoke with the sincerity of a Briton; and, as I don't perceive that I shall have any use for the fashionable liberties you propose, you'll pardon, marquis, my national prejudice; here's my hand, Mr. Buck. Buck. Servant, monsieur. Buck. No offence? Mar. Not in the least; I am only afraid the reputation of that lady's taste will suffer a little; and to shew her at once the difference of her choice, the preference, which if bestowed on me, would not fail to exasperate you, I support without murmuring; so, that favour which would probably have provoked my fate, is now your protection. Voila la politess Francoise, madam; I have the honour to be-Bon jour, monsieur.Tol de rol! [Erit MAR. Buck. The fellow bears it well. Now, if you'll give me your hand, we'll in, and settle matters with Mr. Subtle. Luc. 'Tis now my duty to obey. Enter ROGER, peeping about. [Exeunt. Clas. Sir John, place yourself here, and be a witness how near a crisis is the fate of your family. Enter Buck and LUCINDA. Buck. Psha! What signifies her? 'Tis odds whether she would consent from the fear of my father. Besides, she told me we could never be married here; and so pack up a few things, and we'll off in a post-chaise directly. Luc. Stay, Mr. Buck, let me have a moment's, reflection- What am I about? Contriving, in concert with the most profligate couple that ever disgraced human nature, to impose an indigent orphan on the sole representative of a wealthy and honourable family! Is this a character bethe consequence? Sure detection and contempt; coming my birth and education? What must be contempt even from him, when his passions cool. I have resolved, sir. Buck. Madam! Luc. As the expedition we are upon the point of taking, is to be a lasting one, we ought not to be over hasty in our resolution. Buck. Pshaw! Stuff! When a thing's resolved, the sooner 'tis over the better. Luc. But before it is absolutely resolved, give me leave to beg an answer to two questions. Buck. Make haste, then. Luc. What are your thoughts of me? Buck. Thoughts! Nay, I don't know; why, that you are a sensible, civil, bandsome, handy girl, and will make a devilish good wife. That is all, I think. Luc. But of my rank and fortune? but that's no business of mine; I was always deBuck. Mr. Subtle says they are both great; termined to marry for love. Luc. Generously said! My birth, I believe, won't disgrace you; but for my fortune, your friend, Mr. Subtle, I fear, has anticipated you there. Luc. Your father! You think he would prevent you, then? Buck. Perhaps he would. Luc. And why? this is like saying one's catechise. Buck. Nay, I don't know; but, pshaw ! 'zooks! Luc. But don't you think your father's consent necessary? Buck. No: why 'tis I am to be married, and obstinate; but 'ecod I am as mulish as be; and not he. But come along: old fellows love to be to tell you the truth, if he had proposed me a wife, that would have been reason enough to be half so hot about marrying you, only I thought make me dislike her; and I don't think I should 'twould plague the old fellow damnably. So, my pretty partner, come along; let us have no nay, I demand it; you have wronged me, and must do me justice. more Enter SIR JOHN BUCK, and CLASSIC. Clas. I am sure, madam, Sir John will be glad to find his fears are false; but you cannot blame him. Sir John. Sir, I om obliged to you for this deLuc. I don't, sir; and I shall but little tresclaration, us, to it, I owe the entire subjection pass on his patience. When you know, sir, that of that paternal weakness which has hitherto I am the orphan of an honourable and once suspended the correction your abandoned liber-wealthy family, whom her father, misguided by tinism has long provoked. You have forgot the duty you owe a father, disclaimed my protection, cancelled the natural covenant between us; 'tis time I now should give you up to the guidance of your own guilty passions, and treat you as a stranger to my blood for ever. Buck. I told you what would happen if he should come; but you may thank yourself. pernicious politics, brought with him, in her ear- Luc. But when you know that, plundered of the little fortune left me, I was reluctantly compelled to aid this plot; forced to comply, under the penalty of deepest want: without one hospicom-table roof to shelter me: without one friend to comfort or relieve me; you must, you can't but pity me. Sir John. Equally weak as wicked, the dupe of a raw, giddy girl. But, proceed, sir; you have nothing farther to fear from me plete your project, and add her ruin to your own. Buck Sir, as to me, you may say what you please; but for the young woman, she does not deserve it; but now she wanted me to get your consent, and told me that she had never a penny of portion into the bargain. Sir John. Proceed. Luc. To this, when you are told, that, previous to your coming, I had determined never to wed your son, at least without your knowledge and acquit me. and consent, I hope your justice then will credit Sir John. Madain, your tale is plausible and moving: I hope 'tis true. Here comes the ex Sir John. A stale obvious artifice! She knew the discovery of the fraud must follow close on your inconsiderate marriage, and would then plead the merits of her prior candid discovery.plainer of this riddle. The lady, doubtless, sir, has other secrets to disclose; but as her cunning revealed the first, her policy will preserve the rest. Luc. What secrets? Buck. Be quiet, I tell you; let him alone, and he'll cool of himself by-and-by. Luc. Sir, I am yet the protectress of my own honour; in justice to that, I must demand an explanation. What secrets, sir? Sir John. Oh, perhaps, a thousand! But I am to blame to call them secrets; the customs of this gay country give sanction, and stamp merit upon vice! and vanity will here proclaim, what modesty would elsewhere blush to whisper. Luc. Modesty! You suspect my virtue, then? Sir John. You are a lady; but the fears of a father may be permitted to neglect a little your plan of politeness: therefore, to be plain, from your residence in this house, from your connection with these people, and from the scheme which my presence has interrupted, I have suspicions of what nature, ask yourself. Luc. Sir, you have reason; appearances are against me, I confess; but when you have heard my melancholy story, you'll own you have wronged me, and learn to pity her, whom you now hate. Sir John. Madam, you misemploy your time; there tell your story, there it will be believed; I am too knowing in the wiles of women to be softened by a syren-tear, or imposed on by an artful tale. Luc. But hear me, sir; on my knees I beg it; Enter MR. and MRS. SUBTLE. Mr. Sub. Buck's father! Sir John. I'll take some other time, sir, to thank you for the last proofs of your friendship to my family; in the mean time be so candid as to instruct us in the knowledge of this lady, whom, it seems, you have chosen for the partner of my son. Mr. Sub. Mr. Buck's partner- -I choose-- I-I Sir John. No equivocation or reserve; your plot is revealed, known to the bottom. Who is the lady? sir. Mr. Sub. Lady, sir? the lady's a gentlewoman, Sir John. By what means? Mr. Sub. By her father and mother. Sir John. Who were they, sir? Mr. Sub. Her mother was of-I forgot her maiden name. Sir John. You han't forgot her father's? Sir John. Tell it, then. Mr. Sub. She has told it you, I suppose. Sir John. No matter; I must have it, sir, from you. Here's some mystery. Mr. Sub. 'twas Worthy. Sir John. Not the daughter of Sir Gilbert? -I, indeed, have after the many pressing letters you received | from me, how came this truth concealed? But I guess your motive. Dry up your tears, Lucinda; at last you have found a father. Hence, ye degenerate, ye abandoned wretches, who, abusing the confidence of your country, unite to plunder those ye promise to protect, [Exeunt MR, and MRS. Subtle. Luc. Am I then justified? Sir John. You are: your father was my first and firmest friend; I mourned his loss; and long have sought for thee in vain, Lucinda. Buck. Pray, han't I some merit in finding her? she's mine by the custom of the manor. Sir John. Yours! First study to deserve her; she's mine, sir; I have just redeemed this valua ble treasure, and shall not trust it in a spendthrift's hands. Buck. What would you have me to do, sir? Sir John. Disclaim the partners of your riot, polish your manners, reform your pleasures, and, before you think of governing others, learn to direct yourself. And now iny beauteous ward, we'll for the land where first you saw the light, and there endeavour to forget the long, long bondage you have suffered here. I suppose, sir, we shall have no difficulty in persuading you to accompany us; it is not in France I am to hope for your reformation. I have now learned, that he, who transports a profligate son to Paris, by way of mending his manners, only adds the vices and follies of that country to those of his [Exeunt omnes. own. SCENE I.-A Room. HARTOP and JENKINS discovered. Jen. I should not chuse to marry into such a family. her. You are no stranger to the situation of my circumstances: my neighbourhood to Sir Penurious Trifle, was a sufficient motive for his advancing what money I wanted by way of mortgage; the hard terms he imposed upon me, and the little regard I have paid to economy, Har. Choice, dear Dick, is very little con- has made it necessary for me to attempt, by some cerned in the matter; and, to convince you that scheme, the re-establishment of my fortune. love is not the minister of my counsels, know, This young lady's simplicity, not to say ignothat I never saw but once the object of my pre-rance, presented her at once as a proper subject sent purpose; and that too at a time, and in a for my purpose. circumstance, not very likely to stamp a favourable impression. What think you of a raw boarding-school girl at Lincoln-Minster, with a mind unpolished, a figure uninformed, and a set of features tainted with the colour of her unwholesome food? Jen. Success to you, Jack, with all my soul ! a fellow of your spirit and vivacity, mankind ought to support, for the sake of themselves. For whatever Seneca and the other moral writers may have suggested in contempt of riches, it is plain their maxims were not calculated for Jen. No very engaging object indeed, Hartop. the world as it now stands. In days of yore, Har. Your thoughts now were mine then; but indeed, when virtue was called wisdom, and some connexions I have since had with her fa-vice folly, such principles might have been enther, have given birth to my present design upon couraged: but as the present subjects of our inquiry are, not what a man is, but what he has; as to be rich, is to be wise and virtuous, and to be poor, ignorant, and vicious-I heartily applaud your plan. Har. Your observation is but too just. Jen. But, pr'ythee in the first place, how can you gain admittance to your mistress? and, in the second, is the girl independent of her father? His consent, I suppose, you have no thought of obtaining? Sir Gre. Lack-a-day, that's wonderful! Mr. Jenkins, introduce me. Jen. Mr. Hartop, Sir Gregory Gazette. Sir Gre. Sir, I am proud to- -Well, sir, and what news? You come from-Pray, sir, are Har. Not I, indeed, sir. Sir Gre. Good lack! may be, belong to the law? Har. Some farther proposals concerning my estate; such as an increase of the mortgage, or an absolute sale, is a sufficient pretence for a visit; and, as to the cash, twenty to my know-you a parliament-man? ledge; independent too, you rogue! and besides, an only child, you know: and then, when things are done, they can't be undone and 'tis well 'tis no worse-and a hundred such pretty proverbs, will, 'tis great odds, reconcile the old fellow at last. Besides, my papa in posse, has a foible, which, if I condescend to humour, I have his soul, my dear. Jen. Pr'ythee, now you are in spirits, give me a portrait of Sir Penurious; though he is my neighbour, yet he is so domestic an animal, that I know no more of him than the common Country conversation, that he is a thrifty, wary man. Har. Nor that. Sir Gre. Oh, then in some of the offices; the treasury, or the exchequer ? Har. Neither sir. Sir Gre. Lack-a-day, that's wonderful! Well, but Mr-Pray, what name did Mr. Jenkins, Ha, Ha Hur. Hartop. Sir Gre. Ay, true!-What, not of the Hartops of Boston? Har. No. Sir Gre. May be not. There is, Mr. Hartop, one thing that I envy you Londoners in muchquires of news-papers! Now I reckon you read a matter of eight sheets every day? Har. Not one. Sir Gre. Wonderful !-Then, may be, you are about court; and so, being at the fountainhead, know what is in the papers before they are printed. Har. I never trouble my head about them.— An old fool! [Aside. Sir Gre. Good Lord! Your friend, Mr. Jenkins is very close. Har, The very abstract of penury! Sir John Cutler, with his transmigrated stockings, was but a type of him. For instance, the barber has the growth of his and his daughter's head once a-year, for shaving the knight once a fortnight; his shoes are made with the leather of a coach of his grandfather's, built in the year One; his maleservant is footman, groom, carter, coachman, and tailor; his maid employs her leisure hours in plain work for the neighbours, which Sir Penurious takes care, as her labour is for his emolument, shall be as many as possible, by joining with his daughter in scouring the rooms, making the beds, &c.-Thus much for his moral character. Then, as to his intellectual, he is a mere charte blanche; the last man he is with, must afford him matter for the next he goes to: but a story is his idol; throw him in that, and he swallows it; no matter what, raw or roasted, savoury or insipid, down it goes, and up again to the first person he meets. It is upon this basis I found my favour with the knight, having Sir Gre. May be so; do, do; ay, ay. acquired patience enough to hear his stories, Jen. Pr'ythee, Jack, don't be so crusty: inand equipped myself with a quantity sufficient dulge the knight's humour a little! Besides, if I to furnish him. His manner is indeed pecu-guess right, it may be necessary for the conduct liar, and, for once or twice entertaining enough. of your design to contract a pretty strict intiI'll give you a specimen-Is not that an equi-macy there. page? Jen. Hey! yes, faith; and the owner an acquaintance of mine: Sir Gregory Gazette, by Jupiter! and his son Tim with him. Now I can match your knight. He must come this way to the parlour. We'll have a scene: but take your eue; he is a country politician. SIR GREGORY entering, and Waiter. Jen. Why, Sir Gregory, Mr. Hartop is much in the secrets above; and it becomes a man so trusted, to be wary, you know. Sir Gre. May be so, may be so. Wonderful! Ay, ay; a great man, no doubt. Jen. But I'll give him a better insight into your character, and that will induce him to throw off his reserve. Har. Well, do as you will. Jen. Sir Gregory, Mr. Hartop's ignorance of your character made him a little shy in his replies; but you will now find him more communicative; and, in your ear-he is a treasure; he is in all the mysteries of government: at the bottom of every thing. Sir Gre. Wonderful! a treasure! ay, may be so. Jen. And, that you may have him to yourself, I'll go in search of your son. |