SCENE I.-The North Parade. Enter ABSOLUTE. ACT III. Abs. 'Tis just as Fag told me, indeed. Whimsical enough, faith! My father wants to force me to marry the very girl I am plotting to run away with. He must not know of my connection with her yet a while. He has too summary a method of proceeding in these matters. However, I'll read my recantation instantly. My conversion is something sudden, indeed; but I can assure him it is very sincere. So, so, here he comes. He looks plaguy gruff. [Steps aside. Enter Sir ANTHONY. Sir Anth. No: I'll die sooner than forgive him! Die, did I say? I'll live these fifty years to plague him. At our last meeting, his impudence had almost put me out of temper. An obstinate, passionate, self-willed boy! Who can he take after? This is my return for getting him before all his brothers and sisters! for putting him, attwelve years old, into a marching regiment, and allowing him fifty pounds a-year, besides his pay, ever since! But I have done with him; he's any body's son for me. I never will see him more; never, never, never, never! me. Abs. Now for a penitential face. Abs. A sincere penitent. I come, sir, to acknowledge my error, and to submit entirely to your will. Sir Anth. What's that? Abs. I have been revolving, and reflecting, and considering on your past goodness, and kindness, and condescension to me. Sir Anth, Well, sir? Abs. I have been likewise weighing and balancing what you were pleased to mention concerning duty, and obedience, and authority. Sir Anth. Well, puppy ! Abs. Why, then, sir, the result of my reflections is, a resolution to sacrifice every inclination of my own to your satisfaction. sense. Sir Anth. Why now, you talk sense-absolute I never heard any thing more sensible in my life. Confound you! you shall be Jack again! Abs. I am happy in the appellation, Sir Anth. Why, then, Jack, my dear Jack, I will now inform you who the lady really is. Nothing but your passion and violence, you silly fellow, prevented my telling you at first. Prepare, Jack, for wonder and rapture-prepare ! What think you of Miss Lydia Languish? Abs. Languish! What, the Languishes of Worcestershire? Sir Anth. Worcestershire! No. Did you never meet Mrs Malaprop and her niece, Miss Languish, who came into our country just before you were last ordered to your regiment? Abs. Malaprop! Languish! I don't remember ever to have heard the names before. Yet, stay! I think I do recollect something. Languish! Languish! She squints, don't she? A little redhaired girl? Sir Anth. Squints! A red-haired girl!Zounds! no. Abs. Then I must have forgot; it cann't be the same person. Sir Anth. Jack! Jack! what think you of blooming, love-breathing seventeen? Abs. As to that, sir, I am quite indifferent. If I can please you in the matter, 'tis all I de sire. Sir Anth. Nay, but, Jack, such eyes! such eyes! so innocently wild! so bashfully irreso lute! not a glance but speaks and kindles some thought of love! Then, Jack, her cheeks! her cheeks, Jack! so deeply blushing at the insinuations of her tell-tale eyes! Then, Jack, her lips! O, Jack, lips smiling at their own discretion; and, if not smiling, more sweetly pouting; more lovely in sullenness! Abs. That's she, indeed. Well done, old gentleman. [Aside. Sir Anth. Then, Jack, her neck! O, Jack! Jack! Abs. And which is to be mine, sir; the niece or the aunt? Sir Anth. Why, you unfeeling, insensible puppy, I despise you! when I was of your age, such a description would have made me fly like a rocket! The aunt indeed! Odds life! when I ran away with your mother, I would not have touched any thing old or ugly to gain an empire. Abs. Not to please your father, sir! Sir Anth. To please my father! Zounds! not to please- -Oh, my father-Odso! yes, yes; if my father, indeed, had desiredthat's quite another matter. Though he was not the indulgent father that I am, Jack. Abs. I dare say not, sir. Sir Anth. But, Jack, you are not sorry to find your mistress is so beautiful? Abs. Sir, I repeat it, if I please you in this affair, 'tis all I desire. Not that I think a woman the worse for being handsome; but, sir, if you please to recollect, you before hinted something about a hump or two, one eye, and a few more graces of that kind. Now, without being very nice, I own I should rather choose a wife of mine to have the usual number of limbs, and a limited quantity of back: and though one eye may be very agreeable, yet, as the prejudice has | always run in favour of two, I would not wish to affect a singularity in that article. Sir Anth. What a phlegmatic sot it is! Why, sirrah, you're an anchorite! a vile, insensible stock! You a soldier! you're a walking block, fit only to dust the company's regimentals on! Odds life! I've a great mind to marry the girl myself! Abs. I am entirely at your disposal, sir; if you should think of addressing Miss Languish yourself, I suppose you would have me marry the aunt; or, if you should change your mind, and take the old lady, 'tis the same to me, I'll marry the niece. Sir Anth. Upon my word, Jack, thou'rt either a very great hypocrite, or-but come, I know your indifference on such a subject must be all a lie-I'm sure it must-come, now-damn your demure face! Come, confess, Jack; you have been lying, ha'n't you? You have been playing the hypocrite, hey? I'll never forgive you, if you ha'n't been lying, and playing the hypocrite. Abs. I'm sorry, sir, that the respect and duty which I bear to you should be so mistaken. make me thus happy, let me not think that I discovered something of coldness in your first salutation! Faulk. 'Twas but your fancy, Julia. I was rejoiced to see you to see you in such health. Sure I had no cause for coldness? Julia. Nay, then, I see you have taken something ill. You must not conceal from me what it is. Faulk. Well then-shall I own to you that my joy at hearing of your health and arrival here, by your neighbour Acres, was somewhat damped by his dwelling much on the high spirits you had enjoyed in Devonshire-on your mirth, your singing, dancing, and I know not what !For such is my temper, Julia, that I should regard every mirthful moment in your absence as a treason to constancy: The mutual tear that steals down the cheek of parting lovers is a compact, that no smile shall live there till they meet again. Julia. Must I never cease to tax my Faulkland with this teasing, minute caprice? Can the idle reports of a silly boor weigh in your breast against my tried affection? Yet only say that you did not sing with mirth; say that you thought of Faulkland in the dance! Sir Anth. Hang your respect and duty! But Faulk. They have no weight with me, Julia: come along with me; I'll write a note to Mrs Ma-No, no; I am happy if you have been so. laprop, and you shall visit the lady directly. Her eyes shall be the Promethian torch to youCome along! I'll never forgive you if you don't come back stark mad with rapture and impatience if you don't, egad, I'll marry the girl myself! [Exeunt. SCENE II.-JULIA's Dressing-Room. Enter FAULKLAND. Faulk. They told me Julia would return directly; I wonder she is not yet come ! How mean does this captious, unsatisfied temper of mine appear to my cooler judgment! Yet I know not that I indulge it in any other point: but on this one subject, and to this one subject, whom I think I love beyond my life, I am ever ungenerously fretful and madly capricious! I am conscious of it; yet I cannot correct myself! What tender, honest joy sparkled in her eyes when we met ! How delicate was the warmth of her expressions! I was ashamed to appear less happy, though I had come resolved to wear a face of coolness and upbraiding. Sir Anthony's presence prevented my proposed expostulations: yet I must be satisfied that she has not been so very happy in my absence. She is coming! Yes! I know the nimbleness of her tread, when she thinks her impatient Faulkland counts the moments of her stay. Julia. I never can be happy in your absence! If I wear a countenance of content, it is to shew that my mind holds no doubt of my Faulkland's truth. If I seemed sad, it were to make malice triumph, and say that I had fixed my heart on one who left me to lament his roving, and my own credulity. Believe me, Faulkland, I mean not to upbraid you when I say, that I have often dressed sorrow in smiles, lest my friends should guess whose unkindness had caused my tears. Faulk. You were ever all goodness to me! O, I am a brute, when I but admit a doubt of your true constancy! Julia. If ever, without such cause from you, as find my affection I will not suppose possible, you veering but a point, may I become a proverbial scoff for levity and base ingratitude! Faulk. Ah, Julia, that last word is grating to me! I would I had no title to your gratitude! Search your heart, Julia; perhaps, what you have mistaken for love, is but the warm effusion of a too thankful heart! Julia. For what quality must I love you? Faulk. For no quality! To regard me for any quality of mind or understanding, were only to esteem me. And for person-I have often wished myself deformed, to be convinced that I owed no obligation there for any part of your affection. Julia. Where nature has bestowed a show of nice attention in the features of a man, he should laugh at it as misplaced. I have seen men, who, in this vain article, perhaps, might rank above you; but my heart has never asked my eyes if it were so or not. Faulk. Now this is not well from you, Julia; I despise person in a man-yet, if you loved me | linked, instead, to some antique virago, whose as I wish, though I were an Æthiop, you'd think gnawing passions, and long-hoarded spleen, shall none so fair. make me curse my folly half the day, and all the night. [Exit. Julia. I see you are determined to be unkind. The contract which my poor father bound us in, gives you more than a lover's privilege. Faulk. Again, Julia, you raise ideas that feed and justify my doubts. I would not have been more free-no! I am proud of my restraint. Yet, yet-perhaps your high respect alone for this solemn compact has fettered your inclinations, which, else, had made a worthier choice. How shall I be sure, had you remained unbound in thought and promise, that I should still have been the object of your persevering love? Julia. Then try me now. Let us be free as strangers as to what is past: my heart will not feel more liberty. Faulk. There now! So hasty, Julia! So anxious to be free! If your love for me were fixed and ardent, you would not lose your hold, even though I wished it! Julia. Oh, you torture me to the heart! I can not bear it. Faulk, I do not mean to distress you. If I loved you less, I should never give you an uneasy moment. But hear me. All my fretful doubts arise from this. Women are not used to weigh and separate the motives of their affections: the cold dictates of prudence, gratitude, or filial duty, may sometimes be mistaken for the pleadings of the heart. I would not boast; yet let me say, that I have neither age, person, or character, to found dislike on; my fortune such as few ladies could be charged with indiscretion in the match. O, Julia! when love receives such countenance from prudence, nice minds will be suspicious of its birth. Julia. I know not whither your insinuations would tend: but as they seem pressing to insult me, I will spare you the regret of having done so. I have given you no cause for this! [Exit in tears. Faulk. In tears! Stay, Julia: stay but for a moment. The door is fastened! Julia; my soul -but for one moment: I hear her sobbing! 'Sdeath! What a brute am I to use her thus ! Yet stay. Ay; she is coming now: How little resolution there is in woman! How a few soft words can turn them! No, faith! She is not coming, either. Why, Julia! my love! say but that you forgive me; come but to tell me that; now this is being too resentful: stay! she is coming too; I thought she would: no steadiness in any thing! Her going away must have been a mere trick, then; she sha'n't see that I was hurt by it. I'll affect indifference-[Hums a tune then listens.]-No; zounds! She is not coming! Nor don't intend it, I suppose. This is not steadiness, but obstinacy. Yet I deserve it. What, after so long an absence, to quarrel with her tenderness! 'Twas barbarous and unmanly! I should be ashamed to see her now. I'll wait till her just resentment is abated; and when I distress her so again, may I lose her for ever! And be SCENE III.-Mrs MALAPROP'S Lodgings. Enter Mrs MALAPROP, with a letter in her hand, and Captain ABSOLUTE. Mrs Mal. Your being Sir Anthony's son, captain, would itself be a sufficient accommodation; but, from the ingenuity of your appearance, I am convinced you deserve the character here given of you. Abs. Permit me to say, madam, that, as I never yet have had the pleasure of seeing Miss Languish, my principal inducement, in this affair, at present, is the honour of being allied to Mrs Malaprop; of whose intellectual accomplishments, elegant manners, and unaffected learning, no tongue is silent. Mrs Mal. Sir, you do me infinite honour! I beg, captain, you'll be seated.—[Sit.]—Ah! few gentlemen, now-a-days, know how to value the ineffectual qualities in a woman! Few think how a little knowledge becomes a gentlewoman! Men have no sense now, but for the worthless flower of beauty! Abs. It is but too true, indeed, madam; yet I fear our ladies should share the blame : they think our admiration of beauty so great, that knowledge in them would be superfluous. Thus, like garden trees, they seldom shew fruit, till time has robbed them of the more specious blossom. Few, like Mrs Malaprop and the orangetree, are rich in both at once! Mrs Mal. Sir, you overpower me with goodbreeding; he is the very pine-apple of politeness. You are not ignorant, captain, that this giddy girl has somehow contrived to fix her affections on a beggarly, strolling, eve's-dropping ensign, whom none of us have seen, and nobody knows any thing of. Abs. O, I have heard the silly affair before.I am not at all prejudiced against her on that account. Mrs Mal. You are very good, and very considerate, captain. I am sure I have done every thing in my power, since I exploded the affair; long ago I laid my positive conjunctions on her, never to think on the fellow again. I have since laid Sir Anthony's preposition before her; but, I am sorry to say, she seems resolved to decline every particle that I enjoin her. Abs. It must be very distressing, indeed, madam. Mrs Mal. Oh! it gives me the hydrostatics to such a degree! I thought she had persisted from corresponding with him; but, behold, this very day, I have interceded another letter from the fellow; I believe I have it in my pocket, Abs. O, the devil! my last note. Mrs Mal. Ay; here it is. Abs. Ay; my note indeed! O the little traitress Lucy! [Aside, [Aside. Mrs Mal. There; perhaps you may know the Mrs Mal. Tender! ay, and profane, too, o' my conscience! Abs. I am excessively alarmed at the intelligence you send me; the more so, as my new rival' Mrs Mal. That's you, sir. · Abs. ' Has universally the character of being an accomplished gentleman, and a man of ho-ha, ha, ha! nour.' Well, that's handsome enough. Mrs Mal. O, the fellow has some design in writing so. Abs. That he had; I'll answer for him, madam. Mrs Mal. 'Twould be a trick she well deserves; besides, you know the fellow tells her he'll get my consent to her; ha, ha! Let him, if he can, I say again.—Lydia, come down here!— [Calling.]-He'll make me a go-between in their interviews! Ha, ha, ha! Come down, I say, Lydia! I don't wonder at your laughing; ha, ha, Mrs Mal. But go on, sir; you'll see presently. Abs. As for the old weather-beaten she-dra-ha! His impudence is truly ridiculous. gon who guards you,'-Who can he mean by that? Mrs Mal. Me, sir: me: he means me there : what do you think, now? But go on a little fur ther. Abs. Impudent scoundrel! It shall go hard but I will elude her vigilance, as I am told that the same ridiculous vanity which makes her dress up her coarse features, and deck her dull chat with hard words which she don't understand' Mrs Mal. There, sir! an attack upon my language! What do you think of that? An aspersion upon my parts of speech! Was ever such a brute! Sure, if I reprehend any thing in this world, it is the use of my oracular tongue, and a nice derangement of epitaphs ! Abs. He deserves to be hanged and quartered! Let me see-' same ridiculous vanity' Mrs Mal. You need not read it again, sir. Abs. I beg pardon, madam- does also lay her open to the grossest deceptions from flattery and pretended admiration;'-an impudent coxcomb!— so that I have a scheme to see you shortly with the old harridan's consent, and even to make her a go-between in our interview.'Was ever such assurance! Mrs Mal. Did you ever hear any thing like it? He'll elude my vigilance, will he—yes, yes! Ha, ha! he's very likely to enter these doors! We'll try who can plot best! Abs. So we will, madam; so we will. Ha, ha, ha! a conceited puppy, ha, ha, ha! Well, but, Mrs Malaprop, as the girl seems so infatuated by this fellow, suppose you were to wink at her corresponding with him for a little time-let her even plot an elopement with him-then do you connive at her escape-while I, just in the nick, will have the fellow laid by the heels, and fairly contrive to carry her off in his stead! Mrs Mal. I am delighted with the scheme! never was any thing better perpetrated! Abs. 'Tis very ridiculous, upon my soul, madam! ha, ha, ha! Mrs Mal. The little hussy won't hear. Well, I'll go and tell her at once who it is; she shall know that Captain Absolute is come to wait on her. And I'll make her behave as becomes a young woman. Abs. As you please, madam. Mrs Mal. For the present, captain, your servant. Ah! you've not done laughing yet, I see: elude my vigilance! yes, yes; ha, ha, ha! [Exit Mrs MAL. Abs. Ha, ha, ha! One would think, now, that I might throw off all disguise at once, and seize my prize with security; but such is Lydia's caprice, that to undeceive were probably to lose her. I'll see whether she knows me. [Walks aside, and seems engaged in looking at the pictures. Enter LYDIA. Lydia. What a scene am I now to go through! Surely nothing can be more dreadful than to be obliged to listen to the loathsome addresses of a stranger to one's heart. I have heard of girls, persecuted as I am, who have appealed, in behalf of their favoured lover, to the generosity of his rival; suppose I were to try it-there stands the hated rival-an officer, too! But O how unlike my Beverley! I wonder he don't begin; truly, he seems a very negligent wooer! Quite at his ease, upon my word! I'll speak first.-Mr Absolute! [Turns round. Abs. Madam. Lydia O Heavens! Beverley! Abs. Hush! hush, my life! softly! be not surprised! Lydia. I am so astonished! and so terrified! and so overjoyed!-for Heaven's sake! how came you here? Abs. Briefly-I have deceived your auntI was informed that my new rival was to visit here this evening; and, contriving to have him kept away, have passed myself on her for Captain Absolute. Lydia. O charming!—and she really takes you for young Absolute? Abs. O, she's convinced of it! Lydia. Ha, ha, ha! I cann't forbear laughing to think how her sagacity is over-reached! Abs. But we trifle with our precious moments ———such another opportunity may not occurthen let me now conjure my kind, my condescending angel to fix the time when I may rescue her from undeserving persecution, and, with a licenced warmth, plead for my reward. Lydia. Will you, then, Beverley, consent to forfeit that portion of my paltry wealth? that burden on the wings of love? Abs. O, come to me-rich only thus-in loveliness!Bring no portion to me but thy love 'twill be generous in you, Lydia-for well you know it is the only dower your poor Beverley can repay. [Aside. Abs. O, confound her vigilance! Mrs Mul. Captain Absolute, I know not bow to apologize for her shocking rudeness. Abs. So-all's safe, I find. [Aside.]—I have hopes, madam, that time will bring the young lady Mrs Mal. O, there's nothing to be hoped for from her she's as headstrong as an allegory on the banks of Nile ! Lydia. Nay, madam; what do you charge me with now? Mrs Mal. Why, thou unblushing rebel ! did not you tell this gentleman, to his face, that you loved another better! did not you say you never would be his ? Lydia. No, madam, I did not. Mrs Mal. Good Heavens! what assurance ! Lydia, Lydia, you ought to know that lying don't become a young woman! Did not you boast that Beverley-that stroller Beverley, possessed your heart? Tell me that, I say! Lydia. 'Tis true, madam, and none but Bever Lydia. How persuasive are his words !-howley! charming will poverty be with him! [Aside. Abs. Ah! my soul, what a life will we then live! Love shall be our idol and support! we will worship him with a monastic strictness; abjuring all worldly toys, to centre every thought and action there! Proud of calamity, we will enjoy the wreck of wealth; while the surrounding gloom of adversity shall make the flame of our pure love shew doubly bright. By Heavens! I would fling all goods of fortune from me with a prodigal hand, to enjoy the scene where I might clasp my Lydia to my bosom, and say, the world affords no smile to me-but here- -[Embracing her.] If she holds out now, the devil is in it! Lydia. Now could I fly with him to the Antipodes! but my persecution is not yet come to a crisis. Enter Mrs MALAPROP, listening. Mrs Mal. I am impatient to know how the little hussy deports herself. [Aside. Abs. So pensive, Lydia!-Is, then, your warmth abated? Mrs Mal. Warmth abated !-so she has been in a passion, I suppose ? Lydia. No-nor ever can, while I have life. Mrs Mal. An ill-tempered little devil! She'll be in a passion all her life-will she? Lydia. Think not the idle threats of my ridi- Mrs Mal. I am astonished at ber assurance ! Abs. Thus, then, let me enforce my suit. [Kneeling. Mrs Mal. Ay, poor young man !-down on his knees entreating for pity!I can contain no longer. Why, thou vixen! I have overheard you! Mrs Mal. Hold! hold, assurance! you shall not be so rude. Abs. Nay, pray, Mrs Malaprop, don't stop the young lady's speech: she's very welcome to talk thus-it does not hurt me in the least, I assure you. Mrs Mal. You are too good, captain-too amiably patient-but come with me, miss.————Let us see you again soon, captain-remember what we have fixed. Abs. I shall, madam. Mrs Mal. Come, take a graceful leave of the gentleman. Lydia. May every blessing wait on my Beverley, my loved Bev Mrs Mal. Hussy! I'll choak the word in your throat!-Come along, come along! [Exeunt severally-ABSOLUTE kissing his SCENE IV.—ACRES's Lodgings. David. You are quite another creature, believe me, master, by the mass! an' we've any luck, we shall see the Devon monkerony in all the printshops in Bath. Acres. Dress does make a difference, David. David. 'Tis all in all, I think—difference! why, an' you were to go now to Clod-Hall, I am certain the old lady wouldn't know you; Master Butler wouldn't believe his own eyes; and Mrs Pickle would cry, Lard preserve me? our dairymaid would come giggling to the door; and I warrant Dolly Tester, your honour's favourite, would blush like my waistcoat!Oons! Flí hold a gallon, there an't a dog in the house but would bark; and I question whether Phillis would wag a hair of her tail! |