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THE

SUSPICIOUS HUSBAND.

BY

Dr HOADLY.

PROLOGUE.

WRITTEN BY MR GARRICK.

WHILE other culprits brave it to the last,
Nor beg for mercy till the judgment's past;
Poets alone, as conscious of their crimes,
Open their trials with imploring rhymes.
Thus cramm'd with flattery and low submission,
Each trite dull prologue is the bard's petition.
A stale device to calm the critic's fury,
And bribe at once the judges and the jury.
But what avail such poor repeated arts?
The whimp'ring scribbler ne'er can touch your
hearts;

Nor ought an ill-timed pity to take place
Fast as they rise, destroy th' increasing race:
The vermin else will run the nation o'er-
By saving one you breed a million more.

Though disappointed authors rail and rage At fancy'd parties, and a senseless age, Yet still has justice triumph'd on the stage. Thus speaks and thinks the author of to-day, And, saying this, has little more to say. He asks no friend his partial zeal to show, Nor fears the groundless censures of a foe; He knows no friendship can protect the fool, Nor will an audience be a party's tool. 'Tis inconsistent with a free-born spirit, To side with folly, or to injure merit. By your decision he must fall or stand, Nor, though he feels the lash, will blame the hand.

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ACT I.

SCENE I.-RANGER'S Chambers in the Temple. A knocking is heard at the Door for some time; when RANGER enters, having let himself in.

Ran. Once more I am got safe to the Temple. Let me reflect a little. I have sat up all night: I have my head full of bad wine, and the noise of oaths, dice, and the damned tinkling of tavern bells; my spirits jaded, and my eyes sunk in my head; and all this for the conversation of a company of fellows I despise. Their wit lies only in obscenity, their mirth in noise, and their delight in a box and dice. Honest Ranger, take my word for it, thou art a mighty silly fellow.

Enter a Servant with a wig dressed. Where have you been, rascal? If I had not had the key in my pocket, I must have waited at the door in this dainty dress.

Sero. I was only below combing out your honour's wig.

Ran. Well, give me my cap.-[Pulling off his wig.] Why, how like a raking dog do you look, compared to that spruce, sober gentleman! Go, you battered devil, and be made fit to be seen. [Throwing his wig to the Servant. Sero. Cod, my master's very merry this morning. [Exit. Ran. And now for the law. [Sits down and reads. "Tell me no more, I am deceived,

That Chloe's false and common;

By heav'n, I all along believed,

She was a very woman.

As such I liked, as such caress'd;

She still was constant when possess'd:

She could do more for no man."

Honest Congreve was a man after my own heart.

Servants pass over the Stage.

Have you been for the money this morning, as I ordered you?

Serv. No, sir. You bade me go before you was up; I did not know your honour meant before you went to bed.

Ran. None of your jokes, I pray; but to business. Go to the coffee-house, and inquire if there has been any letter or message left for me.

Serv. I shall, sir. Ran. [Repeats.]

"You think she's false, I'm sure she's kind,
I take her body, you her mind
Which has the better bargain?"

Oh, that I had such a soft, deceitful fair, to lull my senses to their desired sleep. [Knocking at the door.] Come in.

Enter SIMON.

Oh, Master Simon, is it you? How long have you been in town?

Sim. Just come, sir, and but for a little time neither; and yet I have as many messages as if we were to stay the whole year round. Here they are, all of them, [Puils out a number of cards] and among them one for your honour.

Ran. [Reads.] "Clarinda's compliments to her cousin Ranger, and should be glad to see him for ever so little a time that he can be spared from the more weighty business of the law." Ha, ha, ha! the same merry girl I ever knew her. Sim. My lady is never sad, sir.

[Knocking at the door. Ran. Pr'ythee, Simon, open the door. Enter Milliner. -and who are you?

Well, child

Mil. Sir, my mistress gives her service to you, and has sent you home the linen you bespoke.

Ran. Well, Simon, my service to your lady, and let her know I will most certainly wait upon her. I am a little busy, Simon—and so— Sim. Ah, you're a wag, Master Ranger, you're a wagbut mum for that. [Exit. Ran. I swear, my dear, you have the prettiest pair of eyes the loveliest pouting lips ne ver saw you before.

Mil. No, sir! I was always in the shop.

Ran. Were you so? Well, and what does your mistress say? The devil fetch me, child, you look'd so prettily, that I could not mind one word you said.

Mil. Lord, sir, you are such another gentleman! Why she says, she is sorry she could not send them sooner. Shall I lay them down?

Ran. No, child. Give 'em to me-Dear lit tle smiling angel[Catches and kisses her.

Mil. I beg, sir, you would be civil.
Ran. Civil! 'egad, I think I am very civil.
[Kisses her again.

Enter a Servant, and BELLAMY.

Serv. Sir, Mr Bellamy. Ran. Damn your impertinence !-Oh, Mr Bel lamy, your servant.

Mil. What shall I say to my mistress? Ran. Bid her make half a dozen more; but be sure you bring them home yourself. [Erit Mil liner.] Pshaw! Pox! Mr Bellamy, how should you like to be served so yourself?

Bel. How can you, Ranger, for a minute's plea sure, give an innocent girl the pain of heart I am confident she felt?- There was a modest blush upon her cheek convinces me she is honest.

Ran. May be so. I was resolved to try, however, had you not interrupted the experiment.

Bel. Fie, Ranger! will you never think?

Ran. Yes, but I cann't be always a-thinking. The law is a damnable dry study, Mr Bellamy, and without something now and then to amuse

and relax, it would be too much for my brain, I promise ye- -But I am a mighty sober fellow grown. Here have I been at it these three hours, but the wenches will never let me alone. Bel. Three hours! Why, do you usually study in such shoes and stockings?

Ran. Rat your inquisitive eyes! Ex pede Herculem. 'Egad, you have me. The truth is, I am but this moment return'd from the tavern. What, Frankly here too!

Enter FRANKLY.

Frank. My boy, Ranger, I am heartily glad to see you; Bellamy, let me embrace you; you are the person I want; I have been at your lodgings, and was directed hither.

Ran. It is to him then I am obliged for this visit: but with all my heart. He is the only man to whom I don't care how much I am obliged. Bel. Your humble servant, sir.

Frank. You know, Ranger, I want no inducement to be with you. But- -you look sadlyWhat no merciless jade has—has she?

Ran. No, no; sound as a roach, my lad. I only got a little too much liquor last night, which I have not slept off yet.

Bel. Thus, Frankly, it is every day. All the morning his head achs; at noon he begins to clear up; towards evening he is good company; and all night he is carefully providing for the same course the next day.

Ran. Why, I must own, my ghostly father, I did relapse a little last night, just to furnish out a decent confession for the day.

Frank. And he is now doing penance for it.— Were his confessor, indeed, you could not well desire more.

you

Ran. Charles, he sets up for a confessor with the worst grace in the world. Here has he been reproving me for being but decently civil to my milliner. Plague! because the coldness of his constitution makes him insensible of a fine woman's charms, every body else must be so too.

Bel. I am no less sensible of their charms than you are, though I cannot kiss every woman I meet, or fall in love, as you call it, with every face which has the bloom of youth upon it. I would only have you a little more frugal of your pleasures.

Frank. My dear friend, this is very pretty talking! But let me tell you, it is in the power of the very first glance from a fine woman utterly to disconcert all your philosophy.

Bel. It must be from a fine woman then, and not such as are generally reputed so. And it must be a thorough acquaintance with her too, that will ever make an impression on my heart.

Ran. Would I could see it once! For when a man has been all his life hoarding up a stock, without allowing himself common necessaries, it tickles me to the soul to see him lay it all out upon a wrong bottom, and become bankrupt at last.

enough to be always easy, and good-nature enough to like me, I will immediately put it to the trial, which of us shall have the greatest share of happiness from the sex, you or I.

Ran. By marrying her, I suppose! Capable of friendship, love, and tenderness! ha, ha, ha! that a man of your sense should talk so. If she be capable of love, 'tis all I require of my mistress; and as every woman, who is young, is capable of love, I am very reasonably in love with every young woman I meet. My lord Coke, in a case I read this morning, speaks my sense.

Both. My Lord Coke!

Ran. Yes, my Lord Coke. What he says of one woman I say of the whole sex; "I take their bodies, you their mind! which has the better bargain?"

Frank. There is no arguing with so great a lawyer. Suppose, therefore, we adjourn the debate to some other time. I have some serious business with Mr Bellamy, and you want sleep, I

am sure.

Ran. Sleep! mere loss of time and hindrance of business-We men of spirit, sir, are above it. Bel. Whither shall we go?

Frank. Into the Park. My chariot is at the door. Bel. Then if my servant calls, you'll send him after us. [Exeunt.

Ran. I will. [Looking on the card.] Clarinda's compliments-A pox on this head of mine; never once to ask where she was to be found. It's plain she is not one of us, or I should not have been so remiss in my inquiries: No matter; I shall meet her in my walks.

Servant enters.

Serv. There is no letter nor message, sir.
Ran. Then my things, to dress.

"I take her body, you her mind; which has the
better bargain?"
[Exeunt.

SCENE II-A Chamber.

Enter Mrs STRICTLAND and JACINTHA meeting. Mrs Str. Good-morrow, my dear Jacintha. Jac. Good-morrow to you, madam. I have brought my work, and intend to sit with you this morning. I hope you have got the better of your fatigue. Where is Clarinda? I should be glad if she would come and work with us.

Mrs Str. She work! she is too fine a lady to do any thing. She is not stirring yet we must let her have her rest. People of her waste of spirits require more time to recruit again.

Jac. It is pity she should be ever tired with what is so agreeable to every body else. I am prodigiously pleased with her company.

Mrs Str. And when you are better acquainted, you will be still more pleased with her. You must rally her upon her partner at Bath; for I fancy part of her rest has been disturbed on his account. Jac. Was he really a pretty fellow?

Bel. Well, I don't care how soon you see it. Mrs Str. That I cann't tell; I did not dance For the minute I find a woman capable of friend-myself, and so did not much mind him. You must ship, love, and tenderness, with good sense have the whole story from herself.

Jac. Oh, I warrant ye, I get it all out. None are so proper to make discoveries in love, as those who are in the secret themselves.

Enter LUCEtta.

Luc. Madam, Mr Strictland is inquiring for you. Here has been Mr Buckle with a letter from his master, which has made him very angry.

Jac. Mr Bellamy said, indeed, he would try him once more, but I fear it will prove in vain. Tell your master I am here. [Exit LUCETTA.] What signifies fortune, when it only makes us slaves to other people?

Mrs Str. Do not be uneasy, my Jacintha. You shall always find a friend in me: but as for Mr Strictland, I know not what ill temper hangs about him lately. Nothing satisfies him. You saw how he received us when we came off our journey. Though Clarinda was so good company, he was barely civil to her, and downright rude to me.

Juc. I cannot help saying, I did observe it.
Mrs Str. I saw you did. Hush! he's here.

Enter Mr STRICTLAND.

Str. Oh, your servant, madam: Here, I have received a letter from Mr Bellamy, wherein he desires I would once more hear what he has to say. You know my sentiments; nay, so does he.

Jac. For Heaven's sake, consider, sir, this is no new affair, no sudden start of passion; we have known each other long. My father valued and loved him, and I am sure, were he alive, I should have his consent.

Str. Don't tell me. Your father would not have you marry against his will; neither will I against mine: I am your father now.

Jac. And you take a fatherly care of me. Str. I wish I had never had any thing to do with you.

Jac. You may easily get rid of the trouble. Str. By listening, I suppose, to the young gentleman's proposals.

Jac. Which are very reasonable, in my opinion. Str. Oh, very modest ones truly; and a very modest gentleman he is that proposes them! A fool, to expect a lady of thirty thousand pounds fortune should, by the care and prudence of her guardian, be thrown away upon a young fellow not worth three hundred a-year. He thinks being in love is an excuse for this; but I am not in love: what does he think will excuse me?

Mrs Str. Well, but, Mr Strictland, I think the gentleman should be heard.

Str. Well, well, seven o'clock is the time, and if the man has had the good fortune, since I saw him last, to persuade somebody or other to give him a better estate, I give him my consent, not else. His servant waits below: you may tell him I shall be at home. [Exit JAC.] But where is your friend, your other half, all this while? I thought you could not have breathed a minute without your Clarinda.

Mrs Str. Why, the truth is, I was going to see what makes her keep her chamber so long.

. Str. Look ye, Mrs Strictland, you have been

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Mrs Str. Sir, she treated me with so much civility in the country, that I thought I could not do less than invite her to spend as much time with me in town as her engagements would permit. I little imagined you could have been displeased at my having so agreeable a companion. Str. There was a time when I was company enough for leisure hours.

Mrs Str. There was a time when every word of mine was sure of meeting with a smile; but those happy days, I know not why, have long been

over.

Str. I cannot bear a rival, even of your own sex. I hate the very name of female friends. No two of you can ever be an hour by yourselves, but one or both are the worse for it.

Mrs Str. Dear Mr Strictland-
Str. This I know, and will not suffer.

Mrs Str. It grieves me, sir, to see you so much in earnest: but, to convince you how willing I am to make you easy in every thing, it shall be my request to her to remove immediately.

Str. Do ithark ye—your request?Why yours? 'tis mine-my command- -tell her so. I will be master of my own family, and I care not who knows it.

Mrs Str. You fright me, sir- -But it shall be as you please. [In tears.] [Goes out.

Str. Ha! have I gone too far? I am not master of myself. Mrs Strictland, [She returns] understand me right: I do not mean, by what I have said, that I suspect your innocence, but, by crushing this growing friendship all at once, I may prevent a train of mischief which you do not fore I was, perhaps, too rash, therefore do it in your own way: but let me see the house fairly rid of her. [Exit STRICT.

see.

Mrs Str. His earnestness in this affair amazes me; I am sorry I made this visit to Clarinda ; and yet I'll answer for her honour. What can I say to her? Necessity must plead in my excuse-for at all events Mr Strictland must be obeyed.

SCENE III.-St James's Park.

[Erit.

Enter BELLAMY and FRANKLY. Frank. Now, Bellamy, I may unfold the secret of my heart to you with greater freedom; for though Ranger has honour, I am not in a humour to be laugh'd at. I must have one that will bear with my impertinence, sooth me into hope, and, like a friend indeed, with tenderness advise me.

Bel. I thought you appeared more grave than usual.

Frank. Oh, Bellamy! my soul is so full of joy, of pain, hope, despair, and ecstasy, that no word but love is capable of expressing what I feel.

Bel. Is love the secret Ranger is not fit to hear? In my mind, he would prove the more able counsellor. And is all the gay indifference of my friend at last reduced to love?

Frank. Even so. Never was a prude more resolute in chastity and ill-nature, than I was fixed in indifference: but love has raised me from t..at inactive state above the being of a man.

Bel. Faith, Charles, I begin to think it has: but pray bring this rapture into order a little, and tell me regularly, how, where, and when.

Frank. If I was not most unreasonably in love, those horrid questions would stop my mouth at once; but I am armed against reason-I answerat Bath, on Tuesday, she danced and caught me. Bel. Danced!and was that all? But who is she? what is her name? her fortune? where does she live?

Frank. Hold! hold! not so many hard questions. Have a little mercy. I know but little of her, that's certain; but all I do know, you shall have. That evening was the first of her appearing at Bath; the moment I saw her, I resolved to ask the favour of her hand; but the easy freedom with which she gave it, and her unaffected good humour during the whole night, gained such a power over my heart, as none of her sex could ever boast before. I waited on her home, and the next morning, when I went to pay the usual compliments, the bird was flown; she had set out for London two hours before, and in a chariot and six, you rogue!

Bel. But was it her own, Charles?

Frank. That I don't know; but it looks better than being dragg'd to town in the stage. That day and the next I spent in inquiries. I waited on the ladies who came with her; they knew nothing of her. So, without learning either her name or fortune, I e'en call'd for my boots, and rode post after her.

Bel. And how do you find yourself after your journey?

Frank. Why, as yet, I own, I am but on a cold scent: but a woman of her sprightliness and gentility cannot but frequent all public places; and when once she is found, the pleasure of the chace will overpay the pains of rousing her. Oh, Bellamy! there was something peculiarly charming in her, that seemed to claim my further acquaintance; and if in the other more familiar parts of life she shines with that superior lustre, and at last I win her to my arms, how shall I bless my resolution in pursuing her!

Bel. But if at last she should prove unworthy-
Frank. I would endeavour to forget her.
Bel. Promise me that, Charles, [Takes his hand.]
and I allow But we are interrupted.

Enter JACK MEGGOT.

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Frankly! thou art grown a mere antique since I saw thee. How hast thou done these five hundred years?

Frank. Even as you see me; well, and at your service ever.

J. Meg. Ha! who's that?

Frank. A friend of mine. Mr Bellamy, this is Jack Meggot, sir, as honest a fellow as any in life. J. Meg Pho! pr'ythee! pox! CharlesDon't be silly- Sir, I am your humble; any one who is a friend of my Frankly's, I am proud of embracing.

Bet. Sir, I shall endeavour to deserve your civility.

J. Meg. Oh, sir!-Well, Charles; what, dumb? Come, come: you may talk, though you have no thing to say, as I do. Let us hear, where have you been?

Frank. Why, for this last week, Jack, I have been at Bath.

J. Meg. Bath! the most ridiculous place in life! amongst tradesmen's wives that hate their husbands, and people of quality that had rather go to the devil than stay at home. People of no taste; no goust; and for divertimenti, if it were not for the puppet-show, la vertu would be dead amongst them. But the news, Charles; the ladies-I fear your time hung heavy on your hands, by the small stay you made there.

Frank. Faith, and so it did, Jack; the ladies are grown such idiots in love, the cards have so debauched their five senses, that love, almighty love himself is utterly neglected.

J. Meg. It is the strangest thing in life, but it is just so with us abroad. Faith, Charles, to tell you a secret, which I don't care if all the world knows, I am almost surfeited with the services of the ladies; the modest ones I mean. The vast variety of duties they expect, as dressing up to the fashion, losing fashionably, keeping fashionable hours, drinking fashionable liquors, and fifty other such irregular niceties, so ruin a man's pocket and constitution, that 'foregad, he must have the estate of a duke, and the strength of a gondolier, who would list himself into their service.

Frank. A free confession truly, Jack, for one of your coat. Bel. The ladies are obliged to you.

Enter BUCKLE, with a letter to BELLAMY. J. Meg. Oh, Lard, Charles! I have had the greatest misfortune in life since I saw you; poor Otho, that I brought from Rome with me, is dead Frank. Well, well, get you another, and all will be well again.

J. Meg. No; the rogue broke me so much china, and gnawed my Spanish leather shoes so filthily, that, when he was dead, I began not to endure him.

Bel. Exactly at seven! run back, and assure him I will not fail. [Exit BUCKLE] Dead! Pray, who was the gentleman?

J. Meg. This gentleman was my monkey, sir; an odd sort of a fellow that used to divert me, and

J. Meg. Whom have we here? My old friend | pleased every body so at Rome, that he always

VOL. IV.

2 A

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