are very haftfay in the connexion. Confusion! (Throws down the letter.) What does this mean? Married to Clarry Brentford! This is exactly one of my cousin Tom's villainous tricks. He promised me that his son should marry my daughter, upon condition that I would give her those two farms; but I can't imagine from what stupid motive he has altered his mind.

Blithe. Disappointment is the common lot of all men, even our surest expectations are subject to misfortune.

Hunks. Disappointment! this comes from a quarter from which I least expected one. But there's the deeds, I'll take care to secure them again; 'tis a good hit that I did not give them to the young rogue beforehand.

Blithe. That was well thought of; you keep a good look out, I see, tho you cannot avoid some disappointments. I see nothing in the way now, to hinder my son's proceeding; you will easily grant your consent now you're cut off from your former expectations.

Hunks. I can't see into this crooked affair-I'm heartily vex'd at it. What could induce that old villain to deceive me in this manner. I fear this was some scheme of my daugh ter's to prevent the effect of my design. If this is her planif she sets so light by two thousand pounds, she shall soon know what it is to want it, I'll promise her.

Blithe. If you had bestowed you gift without crossing her inclination, she would have accepted it very thankfully.

Hunks. O, I don't doubt it in the least; that would have been a pretty story indeed! but since she insists upon gratifying a foolish fancy, she may follow her own inclination, and take the consequences of it; I'll keep the favors I meant to bestow on her, for those that know how to prize them, and that merit them by a becoming gratitude.

Blithe. But you won't reject her, destitute of a patrimony and a father's blessing?

Hunks. Not one farthing shall she ever receive from my hand. Your son may take her, but her person is barely all that I'll give him; he has seduced her to disobey her father, and he shall feel the effects of it.

Blithe. You're somewhat ruffled, I perceive, but I hope you'll recall these rash resolutions in your cooler moments. Hunks. No, never, I give you my word, and that's as fixed as the laws of the Medes and Persians.

.

Blithe. But look ye, Sir, here's another circumstance to be tended to; my son has the deeds already in his own hands.

Hunks. Deeds! what deeds? those I gave to my brother? Blithe. Yes, the very same.

Hunks. What a composition of villainy and witchcraft is here! What, my deeds given up to your son?

Blithe. Yes: your brother thought that my son had an undoubted title to them now, since his cousin was married, and so he gave them up the next day."

Hunks. This is intolerable! I could tear the scalp from my old brainless scull; why had I not more wit than to trust them with him? I'm cheated every way! I can't trust a farthing with the best friend I have on earth.

Blithe. That is very true, 'tis no wonder you can't trust your best friends. The truth of the case is, you have no friends, nor can you expect any, so long as you make an idol of yourself, and feast your sordid avaricious appetite upon the misfortunes of mankind. You take every possible advantage by the present calamities, to gratify your own selfish disposition. So long as this is the case, depend upon it you will be an object of universal detestation. There is no one on earth that would not rejoice to see how you're broughtin. Your daughter now has got a good inheritance, and an agreeable partner, which you were in c duty bound to grant her; but instead of that, you were then doing your utmost to deprive her of every enjoy. ment in life. [Hunks puts his hand to his breast.] I don't wonder your conscience smites you for your villainy. Don't you see how justly you have been cheated into your duty?

Hunks. I'll go this moment to an attorney, and get a warrant: I'll put the villain in jail before an hour is at an end. Oh, my deeds! my farms! what shall I do for my farms!

Blithe. Give yourself no further trouble about them, there's no evidence in the case: you must be sensible therefore, an action can't lie. I would advise you to rest contented, and learn from disappointments, not to place such an exhorbitant value upon wealth. In the mean time I should be very glad of your company at the wedding. My son and his wife would be very happy to see you.

Hunks. The dragon fly away with you, and your son, and your son's wife. Omy farms! what shall I do for my farms!

Bev.

BEVIL AND MYRTLE.

IR, I am extremely obliged to you for this honer.
Myrt. The time, the place, our long acquaintance,

R

and many other circumstances, which affect me on this ocea sion, oblige me, without ceremony or conference, to desire, that you will comply with the request in my letter, of which you have already acknowledged the receipt.

Bev. Sir, I have received a letter from you in a very unusual style. But as I am conscious of the integrity of my behavior with respect to you, and intend that every thing in this matter shall be your own seeking, I shall understand nothing but what you are pleased to confirm face to face. You are therefore to take it for granted, that I have forgot the contents of your epistle.

Myrt. Your cool behavior, Mr. Bevil, is agreeable to the unworthy use you have made of my simplicity and frankness to you. And I see your moderation tends to your own ad vantage, not mine; to your own safety, not to justice for the wrongs you have done your friend.

Bev. My own safety! Mr. Myrtle.
Myrt. Your own safety, Mr. Bevil.

Bev. Mr. Myrtle, there is no disguising any longer that I understand what you would force me to. You know my principle upon that point; and you have often heard me express my disapprobation of the savage manner of deciding quarrels, which tyrannical custom has introduced, to the breach of all laws, both divine and human.

Myrt Mr. Bevil! Mr. Bevil! It would be a good first principle, in those who have so tender a conscience that way, to have as much abhorrence at doing injuries, as

away abruptly.]

Bev. As what?

Myrt. As fear of answering them.

-[Turns

Bev. Mr. Myrtle, I have no fear of answering any injury I have done you because I have meant you none; for the truth of which I am ready to appeal to any indifferent person, even of your own choosing. But I own I am afraid of doing a wicked action: I mean of shedding your blood, or giving you an opportunity of shedding mine, cold. I am not afraid of you, Mr. Myrtle. But I own I am afraid of Him, who gave me this life in trust, on other conditions and with other designs than that I should hazard, or throw it away, because a rash inconsiderate man is pleased to be offended, without knowing whether he is injured or not. No, I will not for you or any an's humor, commit a known crime; a crime which I can

1

not repair, or which may in the very act, cut me off from all possibility of repentance.

Myrt. Mr. Bevil, I must tell you, this coolness, this moralizing, shall not cheat me of my love. You may wish to preserve your life, that you may possess Lucinda. And I have reason to be indifferent about it, if I am to lose all that from which I expect any joy in life. But I shall first try one mean towards recovering her, I mean, by shewing her what a dauntless hero she has chosen for her protector.

Beo. Shew me but the least glimpse of argument, that I am authorized to contend with you at the peril of the life of one of us, and I am ready upon your own terms.-If this will not satisfy you, and you will make a lawless assault upon me, I will defend myself as against a ruffian. There is no such terror, Mr. Myrtle, in the anger of those who are quickly hot and quickly cold again, they know not how or why. I defy you to shew wherein I have wrong'd you.

Myrt. Mr. Bevil, it is easy for you to talk coolly on this occasion. You know not, I suppose, what it is to love, ad from your large fortune, and your specious outward carriage, have it in your power to come, without any trouble or anxiety, to the possession of a woman of honor; you know nothing of what it is to be alarmed, distracted with the terror of losing what is dearer than life. You are happy; your marriage goes on like common business; and in the interim, you have for your soft moments of dalliance, your rambling captive, your Indian princess, 'your convenient, your ready Indiana.

Bev. You have touched me beyond the patience of a man; and the defence of spotless innocence, will, I hope, excuse my accepting your challenge, or at least obliging you to retract your infamous aspersions. I will not, if I can avoid it, shed your blood, nor shall you mine. But Indiana's purity I will defend. Who waits?

Servt. Did you call, Sir?

Bev. Yes, go call a coach.

Servt. Sir-Mr. Myrtle-gentlemen-you are friends-I am but a servant-but

Bev. Call a coach.

[A long pause.

[Exit Servant.

They walk sullenly about the room [Aside] Shall I (though provoked beyond sufferance) recover myself at the entrance of a third person, and that my servant too; and shall I not have a due respect for the dictates

of my own conscience; for what I owe to the best of fathers, and to the defenceless innocence of my lovely Indiana, whose very life depends on mine ?

[Te Mr. Myrtle,] I have, thank Heaven, had time to recollect myself, and have determined to convince you, by means I would willingly have avoided, but which yet are preferable, to murderous duelling, that I am more innocent of nothing than of rivalling you in the affections of Lucinda. Read this letter and consider what effect it would have had upon you, to have found it about the man you had murdered.

Myrtle [reads.] "I hope it is consistent with the laws a woman ought to impose upon herself, to acknowledge, that your manner of declining what has been proposed, of a treaty of marriage in our family, and desiting that the refusal might come from me, is more engaging than the Smithfield courtship of him whose arms I am in danger of being thrown into, unless your friend exerts himself for our common safety and happiness.", I want no more, to clear your innocence, my injured worthy friend-I see her dear name at the bottom, ---I see that you have been far enough from designing any obstacle to my happiness, while I have been treating my benefactor as my betrayer-O Bevil, with what words shall I

Bev. There is no need of words. To convince is more than to conquer. If you are but satisfied, that I meant you no wrong, all is as it should be.

Myrt. But can you--forgive-such madness?

Bev. Have not I myself offended? I had almost been as guilty as you, tho I had the advantage of you, by knowing what you did not know.

Myrt. That I should be such a precipitate wretch.

Bev. Prithee no more.

Myri. How many friends have died by the hands of friends, merely for want of temper! what do I not owe to your superiority of understanding! what a precipice have I escaped! O, my friend!-Can you ever-forgive-can you ever again look upon me with an eye of favor?

bev. Why should I not? Any man may mistake. Any man may be violent, where his love is concerned. I was my. self.

Myrt. O, Bevil! you are capable of all that is great, all at is heroic.