Col. Lamb. And a jointure-now she's the only one in the family, that has power with our precise doctor; and, I dare engage, she'll use it with him to persuade my father from any thing that is against your interest. By the way, you must know I have some shrewd suspicion, that this sanctified rogue is in love with her. Darn. In love! Col. Lamb. You shall judge by the symptomsbut hush!-here he comes with my grandmother-step this way, and I'll tell you. [Exeunt Enter Doctor CANTWELL and old Lady LAM BERT, followed by SEYWARD. Dr Cant. Charles, step up into my study; bring down a dozen more of those manuals of devotion, with the last hymns I composed; and, when he calls, give them to Mr Maw-worm; and, do you hear, if any one enquires for me, say I am gone to Newgate, and the Marshalsea, to distribute alms. [Exit SEYWARD. Old Lady Lamb. Well; but, worthy doctor, why will you go to the prisons yourself? cannot you send the money?-Ugly distempers are often catched there have a care of your health-let us keep one good man, at least, amongst us. Dr Cant. Alas, madam, I am not a good man: I am a guilty, wicked sinner, full of iniquity; the greatest villain that ever breathed; every instant of my life is clouded with stains; it is one continued series of crimes and defilements; you do not know what I am capable of; you indeed take me for a good man; but the truth is, I am a worthless creature. Old Lady Lamb. Have you then stumbled? Alas, if it be so, who shall walk upright? What horrid crime have you been hurried into, that calls for this severe self-recrimination? Dr Cant. None, madam, that perhaps humanity may call very enormous; yet am I sure, that my thoughts never stray a moment from celestial contemplations? do they not sometimes, before I am aware, turn to things of this earth? am I not often hasty, and surprised into wrath? nay, the instance is recent; for, last night, being snarled at, and bit by Minxy, your daughter-inlaw's lap-dog, I am conscious I struck the little beast with a degree of passion, for which I have never been able to forgive myself since. Old Lady Lamb. Oh, worthy, humble soul! this is a slight offence, which your suffering and mortifications may well atone for. Dr Cant. No, madam, no; I want to suffer; I ought to be mortified; and I am obliged now to tell you, that, for my soul's sake, I must quit your good son's family; I am pamper'd too much here, live too much at my ease. Old Lady Lamb. Good doctor! Dr Cant. Alas, madam! It is not you that should shed tears; it is I ought to weep; you are a pure woman. Old Lady Lamb. I pure? who, I?-no, no; sinful, sinful!. -But do not talk of quitting our family; what will become of us!-for friendship-for charity Dr Cunt. Enough; say no more, madam, I submit: while I can do good, it is my duty. Enter Colonel LAMBERT and DARNLEY. Col. Lamb. Your ladyship's most humble ser vant. Old Lady Lamb. Grandson, how do you? Dr Cant. Mr Darnley, I am your most humble stay, and join in the private duties of the family. servant: I hope you and the good colonel will Old Lady Lamb. No, doctor, no; it is too early; the sun has not risen upon them, but I doubt not, the day will come. Dr Cant. I warrant they would go to a play now. Old Lady Lamb. Would they?————I am afraid they would. Darn. Why, I hope it is no sin, madam; if I am not mistaken, I have seen your ladyship at a play. Old Lady Lamb. Me, sir!-see me at a play! You may have seen the prince of darkness, or some of his imps, in my likeness, perhaps Darn. Well, but madam Old Lady Lamb. Mr Darnley, do you think I would commit a murder! Dr Cant. No, sir, no; these are not the plants usually to be met with in that rank soil; the seeds of wickedness indeed sprout up every where too fast; but a playhouse is the devil's hot-bed. Col. Lamb. And, yet, doctor, I have known some of the leaders of your tribe, as scrupulous as they are, who have been willing to gather fruit there for the use of the brethrenas in case of a benefit Dr Cant. The charity covereth the sin; and it may be lawful to turn the wages of abomination to the comfort of the righteous. Col. Lamb. Ha, ha, ha! Dr Cant. Reprobate, reprobate! Col. Lamb. What is that you mutter, sirrah? Old Lady Lamb. Oh, Heavens ! Darn. Let him go, colonel. Col. Lamb. A canting hypocrite! Dr Cant. Very well, sir: your father shall know my treatment. [Exit. Old Lady Lamb. Let me run out of the house; I shall have it fall upon my head, if I stay among such wicked wretches. Oh, grandson, grandson! [Exit. Darn. Was there ever so insolent a rascal? Col. Lamb. The dog will one day provoke me to beat his brains out. Darn. But what the devil is he?-whence comes he?-what is his original?-how has he so ingratiated himself with your father, as to get footing in the house? Col. Lamb. Oh, sir, he is here in quality of chaplain; he was first introduced by the good old lady that's just gone out. You know she has been a long time a frequenter of our modern conventicles, where, it seems, she got acquainted with this sanctified pastor. His disciples believe him a saint, and my poor father, who has been for some time tainted with their pernicious principles, has been led into the same snare. Darn. Ha! here's your sister again. Enter CHARLOTTE and Doctor CANTWELL. Charl. You'll find, sir, I will not be used thus; nor shall your credit with my father protect your insolence to me. Col Lamb. What's the matter? Char. Nothing; pray be quiet-I don't want you-stand out of the way-how durst you bolt with such authority into my chamber, without giving me notice? Darn. Confusion! Col. Lamb. Hold-if my father won't resent this, 'tis then time enough for me to do it. Dr. Cant. Compose yourself, madam; I came by your father's desire, who being informed that you were entertaining Mr Darnley, grew impatient, and gave his positive commands that you attend him instantly, or he himself, he says, will fetch you. Darn. Ay, now the storm is rising. Dr. Cant. So, for what I have done, madam, I had his authority, and shall leave him to answer Charl. Nothing. Darn. I beg you would tell us, madam. Charl. Nay, no great matter-but I was sitting carelessly in my dressing room-a-a fastening my garter, with my face just towards the door; and this impudent cur, without the least notice, comes bounce in upon me-and my devilish hoop happening to hitch in the chair, I was an hour before I could get down my petticoats. Darn. The rogue must be corrected. at the accident; what a ridiculous figure must she make-ha, ha, ha ! Charl. Hah! you're as impudent as he, I think. Darn. Now, dear Tom, speak to her before she goes. Charl. What does he say, brother? Col. Lamb. Why, he wants to have me speak to you, and I would have him do it himself." Charl. Ay, come do, Darnley; I am in a good humour now. Darn. Oh, Charlotte, my heart is bursting— Charl. Well, well, out with it then. Darn. Your father now, I see, is bent on parting us-nay, what's worse, perhaps, will give you to another-I cannot speak-imagine what I want from you Charl. Well-O lud! one looks so silly though when one is serious-O gad!—In short, I cannot get it out. Col. Lamb. I warrant you; try again. Charl. O lud-well-if one must be teased, then-why he must hope, I think. Darn. Is it possible?- -thus Col. Lamb. Buz-not a syllable: she has done very well. I bar all heroics; if you press it too far, I'll hold six to four she's off again in a moment. Darn. I'm silenced. Charl. Now am I on tiptoe to know what odd fellow my father has found out for me. Darn. I'd give something to know him. Charl. He's in a terrible fuss at your being here, I find. Col. Lamb. 'Sdeath! here he comes. Sir JOHN LAMBERT enters hastily; and, looking sternly at DARNLEY, takes CHARLOTTE under his arm, and carries her off. Col. Lamb. Sowell said, doctor. 'Tis he, I am sure, has blown this fire: what horrid hands is our poor family fallen into! and how the rogue seems to triumph in his power!How little is my father like himself! By nature open, just, and generous; but this vile hypocrite drives his weak passions like the wind; and I foresee, at last, something fatal will be the consequence. Darn. Not if, by speedily detecting him, you take care to prevent it. Col. Lamb. Why, I have a thought that might expose him to my father; and, in some unguarded hour, we may yet, perhaps, surprise this lurking thief without his holy vizor. [Exeunt. SCENE I. ACT II. An Ante-Chamber in Sir JOHN LAMBERT'S House. SEYWARD, with a Writing in his Hand. Sey. 'Tis so I have long suspected where his zeal would end; in the making of his private fortune. But then, to found it on the ruin of his patron's children!-I shudder at the villainy. What desperation may a son be driven to, so barbarously disinherited !-Besides, his daughter, fair Charlotte, too, is wronged; wronged in the tenderest point: for so extravagant is this settlement, that it leaves her not a shilling, unless she marries with the doctor's consent, which is intended, by what I have heard, as an expedient to oblige her to marry the doctor himself. Now, 'twere but an honest part to let Charlotte know the snare that's laid for her. This deed's not signed and may be yet prevented. It shall be so. -Yes, charming creature-I adore you.———And, though I am sensible my passion is without hope, may indulge it thus far, at least; I may have the merit of serving you, and perhaps the pleasure to know you think yourself obliged by me. Enter Sir JOHN, Lady LAMBERT, and CHAR LOTTE. Sir J. Lamb. Oh, Seyward, your uncle wants you, to transcribe some hymns. Seyw. Sir, I'll wait on him. [Exit. Charl. A pretty well-bred fellow that. Sir J. Lamb. Ay, ay: but he has better qualities than his good breeding. Charl. He's always clean, too. Sir J. Lamb. I wonder, daughter, when you will take notice of a man's real merit. Humph!-well bred and clean, forsooth! Would not one think now she was describing a cox- comb? When do you hear my wife talk at this rate? and yet she is as young as your fantastical ladyship. Lady Lamb. Charlotte is of a cheerful temper, my dear; but I know you don't think she wants discretion. Lady Lamb. You have rare courage, Charlotte; if I had such a game to play, I should be frighted out of my wits. Char. Lord, madam, he'll make nothing of it, depend upon it. Sir J. Lamb. Mind what I say to you. This wonderful man, I say, first, in his public character, is religious, zealous, and charitable. Char. Very well, sir. Sir J. Lamb. In his private character, sober. [Stifling a laugh. Sir J. Lamb. What is it you sneer at, madam? -You want one of your fine gentlemen rakes, I suppose, that are snapping at every woman they meet with? Char. No, no, sir; I am very well satisfiedI-I should not care for such a sort of a man, no more than I should for one that every woman was ready to snap at. Sir J. Lamb. No; you'll be secure from jealousy; he has experience, ripeness of yearshe is almost forty-nine. Your sex's vanity will have no charms for him. Char. But all this while, sir, I don't find that he has charms for our sex's vanity. How does he look? Is he tall, well made? Does he dress, sing, talk, laugh, and dance well? Has he good hair, good teeth, fine eyes? Does he keep a chaise, coach, and vis-a-vis? Has he six prancing ponies? Does he wear the Prince's uniform, and subscribe to Brookes's ? Sir J. Lamb. Was there ever so profligate a creature! What will this age come to! Lady Lamb. Nay, Charlotte, here I must be against you. Now you are blind indeed. A woman's happiness has little to do with the pleasure her husband takes in his own person. Sir J. Lamb. Right. Lady Lamb. It is not how he looks, but how he loves, is the point. Sir J. Lamb. Good again. Lady Lamb. And a wife is much more secure that has charms for her husband, than when the husband has only charms for her. Sir J. Lamb. Admirable! Go on, my dear. Lady Lamb. Do you think a woman of five Sir J. Lamb. I shall try that presently; and you, my dear, shall judge between us. In short, daughter, your course of life is but one continual round of playing the fool to no purpose; and therefore I am resolved to make you think seri-and-twenty may not be much happier with an ously, and marry. Char. That I shall do before I marry, sir, you may depend upon it. Sir J. Lamb. Um-That I am not so sure of; but you may depend upon my having thought seriously, and that's as well; for the person I intend you, is, of all the world, the only man who can make you truly happy. Char. And of all the world, sir, that's the only man I'll positively marry. honest man of fifty, than the finest woman of fifty with a young fellow of five-and-twenty? Sir J. Lamb. Mark that. Char. Ay, but when two five-and-twenties come together!-dear papa, you must allow they have a chance to be fifty times as pleasant and frolick some. Sir J. Lamb. Frolicksome! Why, you sensual idiot, what have frolics to do with solid happiness? I am ashamed of you-Go, you talk worse than a girl at a boarding-school-Frolicksome! as if marriage was only a licence for two people to play the fool according to law. Methinks, madam, you have a better example of happiness before your face. Here's one has ten times your understanding, and she, you find, has made a different choice. Char. Lord, sir, how you talk! you don't consider people's tempers. I don't say my lady is not in the right; but then, you know, papa, she's a prude, and I am a coquette; she becomes her character very well, I don't deny it; and I hope you see every thing I do is as consistent with mine.- -Your wise people may talk what they will, but 'tis constitution governs us all: and be assured, you will no more be able to bring me to endure a man of forty-nine, than you can persuade my lady to dance in church to the organ. Sir J. Lamb. Why, you wicked wretch, could any thing persuade you to do that?. Char. Lord, sir, I won't answer for what I might do, if the whim was in my head; besides, you know I always loved a little flirtation. Sir J. Lamb. O horrible!-flirtation! -My poor sister has ruined her leaving her fortune in her own hand has turned her brain. In short, Charlotte, your sentiments of life are shameful, and I am resolved upon your instant reformation; therefore, as an earnest of your obedience, I shall first insist that you never see young Darnley more; for, in one word, the good and pious doctor Cantwell's the man that I have decreed for your husband. Char. Ho, ho, ho! Sir J. Lamb. 'Tis very well; this laugh you think becomes you, but I shall spoil your mirthno more-give me a serious answer. Char. I ask your pardon, sir: I should not have smiled indeed, could I have supposed it possible that you were serious. Sir J. Lamb. You'll find me so. Char. I'm sorry for it; but I have an objection to the doctor, sir, that most fathers think a substantial one. Sir J. Lamb. Name it. Char. Why, sir, we know nothing of his fortune; he's not worth a groat. Sir J. Lamb. That's more than you know, madam; I am able to give him a better estate than I am afraid you'll deserve. Char. How! sir! Char. O madam! I am at my wit's end; not for the little fortune I may lose in disobeying my father, but it startles me to find what a dangerous influence this fellow has over all his actions. Lady Lamb. Here's your brother. Enter Colonel LAMBERT. Col. Lamb. Madam, your most obedient.-Well, sister, is the secret out? Who is this pretty fellow my father has picked up for you? Charl. Even our agreeable doctor. Col. Lamb. Confusion! what, would the cor- Col. Lamb. I ask your pardon, madam, if I speak too freely; but I am sure, by what I have seen, your ladyship must suspect something of it. Lady Lumb. I am sorry any body else has seen it; but I must own his behaviour to me of late, both in private and before company, has been something warmer than I thought became him. Col. Lamb. How are these opposites to be reconciled? Can the rascal have the assurance to think both points are to be carried? Charl. Truly, one would not suspect the gentleman to be so termagant. Col. Lamb. Especially while he pretends to be so shocked at all indecent amours. In the country he used to make the maids lock up the turkey cocks every Saturday night, for fear they should gallant the hens on a Sunday. Lady Lamb. Oh! ridiculous! Col. Lamb. Upon my life, madam, my sister told me so. Charl. I tell you so, you impudent— Lady Lamb. Fy, Charlotte; he only jests with you. Charl. How can you be such a monster to stay playing the fool here, when you have more reason to be frighted out of your wits! You don't know, perhaps, that my father declares he'll settle a fortune upon this fellow too. Col. Lamb. What do you mean? Lady Lamb. 'Tis too true; 'tis not three minutes since he said so. Col. Lamb. Nay, then, it is time indeed his eyes were opened; and give me leave to say, Sir J. Lamb. I have told you what's my will, madam, 'tis only in your power. and shall leave you to think on't. Enter SEYWARD. Seyw. Sir, if you are at leisure, the doctor desires to speak with you upon business of import ance. Sir J. Lamb. Where is he? Seyw. In his own chamber, sir. Sir J. Lamb. I will come to him immediately. -[Exit SEYW.-Daughter, I am called away, and therefore have only time to tell you, as my last resolution, doctor Cantwell is your husband, or I'm no more your father. [Exit. Lady Lamb. What is't you propose? Col. Lamb. Why, if this fellow, which I'm sure of, is really in love with you, give him a fair opportunity to declare himself, and leave me te make my advantage of it. Lady Lamb. Ishould be loth to do a wrong thing. Charl. Dear madam, it is the only way in the world to expose him to my father. Lady Lamb. I'll think of it. Col. Lamb. Pray do, madam; but in the mean time I must leave you-poor Darnley stays for me at the Smyrna, and will sit upon thorns till I bring him an account of his new rival. Charl. Well, well, get you gone then; here is my grandmother, and, after the affront you offered this morning to the doctor, she will not be able to bear the sight of you. [Exit Col. Enter Old Lady LAMBERT. Lady Lumb. This is kind, madam; I hope your ladyship's come to dine with us. Old Lady Lamb. Oh, don't be afraid! only in my way from Tottenham Court, I just called to see whether any dreadful accident happened to the family since I was here last. Lady Lamb Accident, did your ladyship say? Old Lady Lamb. I shall be sorry, daughter, but not surprised, when I hear it; for there are goings on under this roof that will bring temporal punishments along with them. Lady Lamb. Indeed, madam, you astonish me! Old Lady Lamb. We'll drop the subject; and I beg leave to address myself to you, Miss Charlotte: I see you have a bit of lace upon your neck; I desire to know what you wear it for. Sir J. Lamb. Oh, madam, madam! I'm glad you're here to join me in solicitations to the doctor.-Here is my mother, friend, my mother; a pious woman; you will hear her; more worthy to advise you than I am. Dr Cunt. Alas! the dear good lady, I will kiss her hand!-but what advice can she give me? The riches of this world, sir, have no charms for Charl. Wear it for, madam! it's the fashion. me; I am not dazzled with their false glare; and Old Lady Lamb. In short, I have been at my was I, I repeat it, to accept of the trust you want linen-draper's to-day, and have brought you some to repose in me, Heaven knows, it would only thick muslin, which I desire you will make hand-be lest the means should fall into wicked hands, kerchiefs of-for I must tell you that slight covering is indecent, and gives much offence. who would not lay it out as I should do, for the glory of heaven, and the good of my neighbour. Lady Lamb. Indecent, did your ladyship say? Old Lady Lamb. What is the matter, son? Old Lady Lamb. Yes, daughter-in-law. Doc- Dr Cant. Nothing, madam, nothing.But tor Cantwell complains to me that he cannot sit you were witness how the worthy colonel treated at table, the sight of her bare neck disturbs him me this morning-Not that I speak it on my own so; and he's a good man, and knows what inde-account-for to be reviled is my portion. cency is. Charl. Yes, indeed; I believe he does, better than any one in this house. But you may tell the doctor from me, madam, that he is an impudent coxcomb, a puppy, and deserves to have his "bones broke. Old Lady Lamb. Fy, Charlotte, fy! He speaks but for your good, and this is the grateful return you make. Charl. Grateful return, madam!-how can you be so partial to that hypocrite?-The doctor is one of those who start at a feather.-Poor good man! yet he has his vices of the graver sort Old Lady Lamb. Come, come; I wish you would follow his precepts, whose practice is conformable to what he teaches- Virtuous man! -Above all sensual regards, he considers the world merely as a collection of dirt and pebblestones.-How has he weaned me from temporal connections! My heart is now set upon nothing sublunary; and, I thank Heaven, I am so insensible to every thing in this vain world, that I could see you, my son, my daughters, my bro thers, my grandchildren, all expire before me; and mind it no more than the going out of so many snuffs of candle. Sir J. Lamb. O the villain! the villain! Dr Cant. Indeed, I did not think he had so hard a nature. Old Lady Lamb. Ah! your charitable heart knows not the rancour that is in his.-His wicked sister too has been here this moment abusing this good man. Dr Cant. O sir, 'tis plain, 'tis plain; your whole family are in a combination against meyour son and daughter hate me; they think I stand between them and your favour; and indeed it is not fit I should do so; for, fallen as they are, they are still your children, and I am an alien, an intruder, who ought in conscience to retire and heal those unhappy breaches. Old Lady Lamb. See, if the good man does not wipe his eyes! Dr Cant. Oh, Heavens! the thought of their ingratitude wounds me to the quick-but I'll remove this eye-sore-here, Charles! Enter SEYWARD. Sir J. Lamb. For goodness sakeDr Cant. Bring me that writing I gave you to lay up this morning. Sir J. Lamb. Make haste, good Charles; it shall be signed this moment. (Exit SEYWARD. Dr Cant. Not for the world, Sir John-every Charl. Upon my word, madam, it is a very humane disposition you have been able to arrive at, and your family is much obliged to the doc-minute tends to corroborate my last intentions tor for his instructions. I must not, will not take it, with the curses of Old Lady Lamb. Well, child, I have nothing your children. |