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seas, and even there, an infant captive, to lose | my mother, hear but of my father-to be adopt ed, lose my adopter, then plunged again in worse calamities!

Mr Seal. An infant captive!

Ind. Yet then to find the most charming of mankind once more to set me free from what I thought the last distress, to load me with his services, his bounties, and his favours, to support my very life in a way that stole, at the same time, my very soul itself from me!

Mr Seal. And has young Bevil been this worthy man?

Ind. Yet then again, this very man to take another without leaving me the right, the pretence, of easing my fond heart with tears!-for oh! I cann't reproach him, though the same hand that raised me to this height now throws me down the precipice.

Mr Seal. Dear lady! oh, yet one moment's patience; my heart grows full with your afflic tion! but yet there's something in your story that promises relief when you least hope it.

Ind. My portion here is bitterness and sorrow. Mr Seal. Do not think so. Pray answer me; does Bevil know your name and family?

sions are too strong for utterance.-Rise, rise, my child, and give my tears their way—Oh, my sister! [Embracing her.

Isab. Now, dearest niece! my groundless fears, my painful cares, no more shall vex thee: if I have wrong'd thy noble lover with too hard suspicions, my just concern for thee I hope will plead my pardon.

Mr Seal. Oh, make him then the full amends, and be yourself the messenger of joy: fly this instant-tell him all these wondrous turns of Providence in his favour; tell him now I have a daughter to bestow which he no longer will decline; that this day he still shall be a bridegroom; nor shall a fortune, the merit which his father seeks, be wanting. Tell him the reward of all his virtues waits on his acceptance. [Exit ISABELLA.] My dearest Indiana?

[Turns and embraces her. Ind. Have I then at last a father's sanction on my love? his bounteous hand to give, and make my heart a present worthy of Bevil's generosity?

Mr Seal. Oh, my child! how are our sorrows past o'erpaid by such a meeting! Though I have lost so many years of soft paternal dalliance with Ind. Alas, too well! Oh! could I be any other thee, yet in one day to find thee thus, and thus thing than what I am-I'll tear away all traces bestow thee, in such perfect happiness, is amof my former self, my little ornaments, the re-ple, ample reparation! and yet again the merit mains of my first state, the hints of what I ought to have beenIn her disorder she throws away her bracelet, which SEALAND takes up, and looks earnestly at it.

گ شاد

Mr Seal. Ha! what's this? my eyes are not deceiv'd! it is, it is the same; the very bracelet which I bequeathed my wife at our last mournful parting.

Ind. What said you, sir? your wife! Whither does my fancy carry me? what means this new felt motion at my heart? And yet again my fortune but deludes me; for if I err not, sir, your name is Sealand; but my lost father's name

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of thy lover

Ind. Oh, had I spirits left to tell you of his actions! how strongly filial duty has suppressed his love, and how concealment still has doubled all his obligation, the pride, the joy of his alliance, sir, would warm your heart, as he has conquered

mine.

Mr Seal. How laudable is love when born of virtue! I burn to embrace him.

Ind. See, sir, my aunt already has succeeded, and brought him to your wishes.

Enter ISABELLA with Sir JOHN BEVIL, BEVIL Jun. Mrs SEALAND, CIMBERTON, MYRTLE, and LUCINDA.

Sir J. B. [Entering.] Where, where's this scene of wonder!--Mr Sealand, I congratulate on this occasion our mutual happiness-Your good sister, sir, has with the story of your daughter's fortune fill'd us with surprise and joy. Now all exceptions are remov'd; my son has now avow'd his love, and turn'd all former jealousies and doubts into approbation, and I am told your goodness has consented to reward him.

Mr Seal. If, sir, a fortune equal to his father's hopes can make this object worthy his accept

ance.

B. jun. I hear your mention, sir, of fortune with pleasure, only as it may prove the means to reconcile the best of fathers to my love; let him be provident, but let me be happy.-My ever destined, my acknowledged wife?

[Embracing INDIANA. Ind. Wife!-oh! my ever-loved, my lord, my master!

Sir J. B. I congratulate myself as well as you that I have a son who could, under such disadvantages, discover your great merit.

Mr Seat. Oh, Sir John, how vain, how weak is human prudence! what care, what foresight, what imagination could contrive such blest events to make our children happy, as Providence in one short hour has laid before us?

Cimb. [To Mrs SEALAND.] I am afraid, madam, Mr Sealand is a little too busy for our affair; if you please we'll take another opportunity.

Mrs Seal. Let us have patience, sir.
Cimb. But we make Sir Geoffry wait, madam.
Myrt. Oh, sir, I'm not in haste.

[During this, BEVIL jun. presents LUCINDA
to INDIANA.

Mr Seal. But here, here's our general benefactor. Excellent young man! that could be at once a lover to her beauty, and a parent to her virtue!

B. jun. If you think that an obligation, sir, give me leave to overpay myself in the only instance that can now add to my felicity, by begging you to bestow this lady on Mr Myrtle.

Mr Seat. She is his without reserve; I beg he may be sent for.-Mr Cimberton, notwithstanding you never had my consent, yet there is, since I saw you, another objection to your marriage with my daughter.

Cimb. I hope, sir, your lady has conceal'd nothing from nie?

Mr Seal. Troth, sir, nothing but what was concealed from myself; another daughter, who has an undoubted title to half my estate.

Cimb. How, Mr Sealand! why then, if half Mrs Lucinda's fortune is gone, you cann't say that any of my estate is settled upon her; I was in treaty for the whole: but if that's not to be

come at, to be sure there can be no bargain.Sir-I have nothing to do but to take my leave of your good lady my cousin, and beg pardon for the trouble I have given this old gentleman. Myrt. That you have, Mr Cimberton, with all my heart. [Discovers himself. Omnes. Mr Myrtle !

Myrt. And I beg pardon of the whole company that I assumed the person of Sir Geoffry only to e present at the danger of this lady's being disposed of, and in her utmost exigence to assert my right to her, which if her parents will ratify, as they once favour'd my pretensions, no abatement of fortune shall lessen her value to

me.

Luc. Generous man!

Mr Seal. If, sir, you can overlook the injury of being in treaty with one who has meanly left her, as you have generously asserted your right in her, she is yours.

Luc. Mr Myrtle, though you have ever had my heart, yet now I find I love you more, because I deserve you less.

Mr Seal. Well, however, I'm glad the girl's dispos'd of any way. [Aside. B. jun. Myrtle, no longer rivals now but brothers.

Myrt. Dear Bevil! you are born to triumph over me; but now our competition ceases: I rejoice in the pre-eminence of your virtue, and your alliance adds charms to Lucinda.

Sir J. B. Now, ladies and gentlemen, you have set the world a fair example; your happiness is owing to your constancy and merit, and the several difficulties you have struggled with evidently shew,

Whate'er the generous mind itself denies,
The secret care of Providence supplies.

[Exeunt.

EPILOGUE.

Intended to be spoken by INDIANA.

OUR author, whom entreaties cannot move,
Spite of the dear coquetry that you love,
Swears he'll not frustrate, so he plainly means,
By a loose epilogue his decent scenes.
Is it not, sirs, hard fate I meet to-day,
To keep me rigid still beyond the play?
And yet I'm sav'd a world of pains that way:
I now can look, I now can move, at ease,
Nor need I torture these poor limbs to please,

Nor with a hand or foot attempt surprise,
Nor wrest my features nor fatigue my eyes.
Bless me! what freakish gambols have I play'd,
What motions try'd and wanton looks betray'd,
Out of pure kindness all! to over-rule

The threaten'd hiss, and screen some scribbling fool.

With more respect I'm entertain'd to-night;
Our author thinks I can with ease delight:

252

THE CONSCIOUS LOVERS.

My artless looks, while modest graces arm,
He says I need but to appear, and charm.
A wife so form'd, by these examples bred,
Pours joy and gladness round the marriage-bed,

[STEELE

Soft source of comfort, kind relief from care,
And 'tis her least perfection to be fair.
The nymph with Indiana's worth who vies,
A nation will behold with Bevil's eyes.

THE

BUSY BODY.

BY

Mrs CENTLIVRE.

PROLOGUE.

THOUGH modern prophets were expos'd of late,
The author could not prophecy her fate:
If with such scenes an audience had been fir'd,
The poet must have really been inspir'd.
But these, alas! are melancholy days
For modern prophets and for modern plays:
Yet, since prophetic lies please fools o' fashion,
And women are so fond of agitation,
To men of sense I'll prophecy anew,
And tell you wondrous things that will prove true.
Undaunted col'nels will to camps repair,
Assur'd there'll be no skirmishes this year;
On our own terms will flow the wish'd-for peace,
All was except 'twixt man and wife will cease;
The grand monarque may wish his son a throne,
But hardly will advance to lose his own.
This season most things bear a smiling face,
But play'rs in summer have a dismal case,
Since your appearance only is our act of grace.
Court-ladies will to country-seats be gone,
My lord cann't all the year live great in town;
Where, wanting operas, basset, and a play,
They'll sigh, and stitch a gown, to pass the time

away:

| Gay city wives at Tunbridge will appear,
Whose husbands long have labour'd for an heir,
Where many a courtier may their wants relieve,
But by the waters only they conceive:
The Fleet-street sempstress-toast of Temple
sparks,

That runs spruce neckloths for attorneys' clerks,
At Cupid's gardens will her hours regale,
Sing fair Dorinda, and drink bottled ale:
At all assemblies rakes her up and down,
And gamesters where they think they are not
known.

Should I denounce our author's fate to-day, To cry down prophecies you'd damn the play: Yet whims like these have sometimes made you laugh;

'Tis tattling all, like Isaac Bickerstaff.

Since war and places claim the bards that write, Be kind, and bear a woman's treat to-night; Let your indulgence all her fears allay, And none but women-haters damn this play.

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SCENE 1.-The Park.

ACT I.

Sir GEORGE AIRY meeting CHArles. Cha. Ha! Sir George Airy a-birding thus early! what forbidden game rous'd you so soon? for no lawful occasion could invite a person of your figure abroad, at such unfashionable hours.

Sir Geo. There are some men, Charles, whom fortune has left free from inquietudes, who are diligently studious to find out ways and means to make themselves uneasy.

Cha. Is it possible that any thing in nature can ruffle the temper of a man whom the four seasons of the year compliment with as many thousand pounds, nay, and a father at rest with his ancestors?

Sir Geo. Why, there it is now! a man that wants money thinks none can be unhappy that has it; but my affairs are in such a whimsical posture, that it will require a calculation of my nativity to find if my gold will relieve me or not.

Cha. Ha, ha, ha! never consult the stars about that; gold has a power beyond them, gold unlocks the midnight councils, gold outdoes the wind, becalms the ship, or fills her sails! gold is omnipotent below; it makes whole armies fight or fly; it buys even souls, and bribes wretches to betray their country: then, what can thy business be that gold won't serve thee in?

Sir Geo. Why, I'm in love.

Cha. In love!-Ha, ha, ha, ha! in love! -Ha, ha, ha, ha ! with what, pr'ythee? a che rubine?

Sir Geo. No, with a woman.

Cha. A woman! good. Ha, ha, ha, ha! and gold not help thee?

Sir Geo. But suppose I'm in love with twoCha. Ay, if thou'rt in love with two hundred, gold will fetch 'em, I warrant thee, boy. But who are they? who are they? come.

Sir Geo. One is a lady whose face I never saw, but witty to a miracle; the other beautiful as Venus

Cha. And a fool

Sir Geo. For aught I know, for I never spoke to her: but you can inform me. I am charm'd by the wit of the one, and die for the beauty of the other.

Cha. And, pray, which are you in quest of now? Sir Geo. I prefer the sensual pleasure; I'm for her I've seen, who is thy father's ward, Miranda.

Cha. Nay, then, I pity you; for the Jew my father will no more part with her and thirty thousand pounds than he would with a guinea to keep me from starving.

Sir Geo. Now, you see gold cann't do every thing, Charles.

Cha. Yes, for 'tis her gold that bars my father's gate against you.

Sir Geo. Why, if he be this avaricious wretch, how cam'st thou by such a liberal education?

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