The rivals: a comedy. As it is acted at the Theatre-Royal in Covent-Garden.

ACT V.

SCENE I.

Julia's Dressing-Room.

Julia, sola.

How this message has alarmed me! what dreadful accident can he mean! why such charge to be alone?—O Faulkland!—how many unhappy moments!—how many tears have you cost me!

Enter Faulkland, muffled up in a Riding-coat.

Jul.

What means this?—why this caution, Faulkland?

Faulk.

Alas! Julia, I am come to take a long farewell.

Jul.

Heav'ns! what do you mean?

Faulk.

You see before you a wretch, whose life is forfeited.—Nay, start not!—the infirmity of my temper has drawn all this misery on me.—I left you fretful and passionate—an untoward accident drew me into a quarrel—the event is, that I must fly this kingdom instantly.—O Julia, had I been so fortunate as to have call'd you mine intirely, be∣fore this mischance had fallen on me, I should not so deeply dread my banishment!—But no more of that—your heart and promise were given to one happy in friends, character, and station! they are not bound to wait upon a solitary, guilty exile.

Jul.

My soul is oppress'd with sorrow at the nature of your misfortune: had these adverse cir∣cumstances arisen from a less fatal cause, I should have felt strong comfort in the thought that I could now chase from your bosom every doubt of the warm sincerity of my love.—My heart has long known no other guardian—I now entrust my per∣son to your honour—we will fly together.—When safe from pursuit, my Father's will may be ful∣filled —and I receive a legal claim to be the partner of your sorrows, and tenderest comforter. Then on the bosom of your wedded Julia, you may lull your keen regret to slumbering; while virtuous love, with a Cherub's hand, shall smooth the brow of upbraiding thought, and pluck the thorn from compunction.

Faulk.

O Julia! I am bankrupt in gratitude! but the time is so pressing, it calls on you for so hasty a resolution.—Would you not wish some hours to weigh the advantages you forego, and what little compensation poor Faulkland can make you beside his solitary love?

Jul.

I ask not a moment.—No, Faulkland, I have lov'd you for yourself: and if I now, more than ever, prize the solemn engagement which so long has pledged us to each other, it is because it leaves no room for hard aspersions on my fame, and puts the seal of duty to an act of love.—But let us not linger.—Perhaps this delay—

Faulk.

'Twill be better I should not venture out again till dark.—Yet am I griev'd to think what numberless distresses will press heavy on your gentle disposition!

Jul.

Perhaps your fortune may be forfeited by this unhappy act.—I know not whether 'tis so— but sure that alone can never make us unhappy.— The little I have will be sufficient to support us; and exile never should be splendid.

Faulk.

Aye, but in such an abject state of life, my wounded pride perhaps may increase the na∣tural fretfulness of my temper, till I become a rude, morose companion, beyond your patience to endure. Perhaps the recollection of a deed, my conscience cannot justify, may haunt me in such gloomy and unsocial fits, that I shall hate the ten∣derness that would relieve me, break from your arms, and quarrel with your fondness!

Jul.

If your thoughts should assume so unhappy a bent, you will the more want some mild and af∣fectionate spirit to watch over and console you:— One who, by bearing your infirmities with gentle∣ness and resignation, may teach you so to bear the evils of your fortune.

Faulk.

O Julia, I have proved you to the quick! and with this useless device I throw away all my doubts. How shall I plead to be forgiven this last unworthy effect of my restless, unsatisfied dispo∣sition?

Jul.

Has no such disaster happened as you re∣lated?

Faulk.

I am ashamed to own that it was all pre∣tended; yet in pity, Julia, do not kill me with re∣senting a fault which never can be repeated: But sealing, this once, my pardon, let me to-morrow, in the face of Heaven, receive my future guide and monitress, and expiate my past folly, by years of tender adoration.

Jul.

Hold, Faulkland!—that you are free from a crime, which I before fear'd to name, Heaven knows how sincerely I rejoice!—These are tears of thankfulness for that! But that your cruel doubts should have urged you to an imposition that has wrung my heart, gives me now a pang, more keen than I can express!

Faulk.

By Heav'ns! Julia—

Jul.

Yet hear me.—My Father lov'd you, Faulkland! and you preserv'd the life that tender parent gave me; in his presence I pledged my hand—joyfully pledged it—where before I had given my heart. When, soon after, I lost that pa∣rent, it seem'd to me that Providence had, in Faulk∣land, shewn me whither to transfer, without a pause, my grateful duty, as well as my affection: Hence I have been content to bear from you what pride and delicacy would have forbid me from another.—I will not upbraid you, by repeating how you have trifled with my sincerity.—

Faulk.

I confess it all! yet hear—

Jul.

After such a year of trial—I might have flattered myself that I should not have been insulted with a new probation of my sincerity, as cruel as unnecessary! A trick of such a nature, as to shew me plainly, that when I thought you lov'd me best, you even then regarded me as a mean dis∣sembler; an artful, prudent hypocrite.

Faulk.

Never! never!

Jul.

I now see it is not in your nature to be con∣tent, or confident in love. With this conviction— I never will be yours. While I had hopes that my persevering attention, and unreproaching kind∣ness might in time reform your temper, I should have been happy to have gain'd a dearer influence over you; but I will not furnish you with a li∣censed power to keep alive an incorrigible fault, at the expence of one who never would contend with you.

Faulk.

Nay, but Julia, by my soul and honour, if after this—

Jul.

But one word more.—As my faith has once been given to you, I never will barter it with ano∣ther. —I shall pray for your happiness with the truest sincerity; and the dearest blessing I can ask of

Heaven to send you, will be to charm you from that unhappy temper, which alone has prevented the performance of our solemn engagement.—All I request of you is, that you will yourself reflect upon this infirmity, and when you number up the many true delights it has deprived you of—let it not be your least regret, that it lost you the love of one— who would have follow'd you in beggary through the world!

[Exit.

Faulk.

She's gone!—for ever!—There was an awful resolution in her manner, that rivetted me to my place.—O Fool!—Dolt!—Barbarian!— Curst as I am, with more imperfections than my fellow-wretches, kind Fortune sent a heaven-gifted cherub to my aid, and, like a ruffian, I have driven her from my side!—I must now haste to my appointment.—Well my mind is tuned for such a scene.—I shall wish only to become a principal in it, and reverse the tale my cursed folly put me upon forging here.—O Love!—Tormentor!— Fiend!—whose influence, like the Moon's, acting on men of dull souls, makes idiots of them, but meeting subtler spirits, betrays their course, and urges sensibility to madness!

[Exit.

Enter Maid and Lydia.

Maid.

My Mistress, Ma'am, I know, was here just now—perhaps she is only in the next room.

[Exit Maid.

Lyd.

Heigh ho!—Though he has used me so, this fellow runs strangely in my head. I believe one lecture from my grave Cousin will make me recall him.

Enter Julia.

Lyd.

O Julia, I am come to you with such an appetite for consolation.—Lud! Child, what's the matter with you?—You have been crying!—I'll

be hanged, if that Faulkland has not been torment∣ing you!

Jul.

You mistake the cause of my uneasiness.— Something has flurried me a little.—Nothing that you can guess at.—I would not accuse Faulk∣land to a Sister!

(Aside.)

Lyd.

Ah! whatever vexations you may have, I can assure you mine surpass them.—You know who Beverley proves to be?

Jul.

I will now own to you, Lydia, that Mr. Faulkland had before inform'd me of the whole affair. Had young Absolute been the person you took him for, I should not have accepted your confidence on the subject, without a serious endea∣vour to counteract your caprice.

Lyd.

So, then, I see I have been deceived by every one!—but I don't care—I'll never have him.

Jul.

Nay, Lydia—

Lyd.

Why, is it not provoking; when I thought we were coming to the prettiest distress imagin∣able, to find myself made a mere Smithfield bar∣gain of at last—There had I projected one of the most sentimental elopements!—so becoming a disguise!—so amiable a ladder of Ropes!—Con∣scious Moon—four horses—Scotch parson—with such surprise to Mrs. Malaprop—and such para∣graphs in the News-papers!—O, I shall die with disappointment.

Jul.

I don't wonder at it!

Lyd.

Now—sad reverse!—what have I to ex∣pect, but, after a deal of flimsy preparation with a bishop's licence, and my Aunt's blessing, to go simpering up to the Altar; or perhaps be cried three times in a country-church, and have an un∣mannerly fat clerk ask the consent of every butcher in the parish to join John Absolute and Lydia Lan∣guish, Spinster! O, that I should live to hear myself called Spinster!

Jul.

Melancholy, indeed!

Lyd.

How mortifying, to remember the dear delicious shifts I used to be put to, to gain half a minute's conversation with this fellow!—How often have I stole forth, in the coldest night in Ja∣nuary, and found him in the garden, stuck like a dripping statue!—There would he kneel to me in the snow, and sneeze and cough so pathetically! he shivering with cold, and I with apprehension! and while the freezing blast numb'd our joints, how warmly would he press me to pity his flame, and glow with mutual ardour!—Ah, Julia! that was something like being in love.

Jul.

If I were in spirits, Lydia, I should chide you only by laughing heartily at you: but it suits more the situation of my mind, at present, earnestly to entreat you, not to let a man, who loves you with sincerity, suffer that unhappiness from your caprice, which I know too well caprice can inflict.

Lyd.

O Lud! what has brought my Aunt here!

Enter Mrs. Malaprop, Fag, and David.

Mrs. Mal.

So! so! here's fine work!—here's fine suicide, paracide, and salivation going on in the fields! and Sir Anthony not to be found to prevent the antistrophe!

Jul.

For Heaven's sake, Madam, what's the meaning of this?

Mrs. Mal.

That gentleman can tell you—'twas he enveloped the affair to me.

Lyd.

Do, Sir, will you inform us.

(To Fag.)

Fag.

Ma'am, I should hold myself very deficient in every requisite that forms the man of breeding, if I delay'd a moment to give all the information in my power to a lady so deeply interested in the affair as you are.

Lyd.

But quick! quick, Sir!

Fag.

True, Ma'am, as you say, one should be quick in divulging matters of this nature; for should we be tedious, perhaps while we are flourish∣ing on the subject, two or three lives may be lost!

Lyd.

O patience!—Do, Ma'am, for Heaven's sake! tell us what is the matter?

Mrs. Mal.

Why, murder's the matter! slaugh∣ter's the matter! killing's the matter!—but he can tell you the perpendiculars.

Lyd.

Then, prythee, Sir, be brief.

〈◊〉〈◊〉

Why then, Ma'am—as to murder—I can∣•••••• ••ake upon me to say—and as to slaughter, or man-slaughter, that will be as the jury finds it.

Lyd.

But who, Sir—who are engaged in this?

Fag.

Faith, Ma'am, one is a young gentleman whom I should be very sorry any thing was to hap∣pen to—a very pretty behaved gentleman!—We have lived much together, and always on terms.

Lyd.

But who is this? who! who! who!

Fag.

My Master, Ma'am—my Master—I speak of my Master.

Lyd.

Heavens! What, Captain Absolute!

Mrs. Mal.

O, to be sure, you are frightened now!

Jul.

But who are with him, Sir?

Fag.

As to the rest, Ma'am, his gentleman can inform you better than I.

Jul.

Do speak, friend.

(To David.)

David.

Look'ee, my Lady—by the Mass! there's mischief going on.—Folks don't use to meet for amusement with fire-arms, firelocks, fire-engines, fire-screens, fire-office, and the devil knows what other crackers besides!—This, my Lady, I say, has an angry favour.

Jul.

But who is there beside Captain Absolute, friend?

David.

My poor Master—under favour, for mentioning him first.—You know me, my Lady—

I am David—and my Master of course is, or was Squire Acres.—Then comes Squire Faulkland.

Jul.

Do, Ma'am, let us instantly endeavour to prevent mischief.

Mrs. Mal.

O fie—it would be very inelegant in us:—we should only participate things.

Dav.

Ah! do, Mrs. Aunt, save a few lives— they are desperately given, believe me.—Above all, there is that blood-thirsty Philistine, Sir Lu∣cius O'Trigger.

Mrs. Mal.

Sir Lucius O'Trigger!—O mercy! have they drawn poor little dear Sir Lucius into the scrape?—why, how you stand, girl! you have no more e eling than one of the Derbyshire Putrefac∣tions!

Lyd.

What are we to do, Madam?

Mrs. Mal.

Why, fly with the utmost felicity to be sure, to prevent mischief:—here, friend— you can shew us the place?

Fag.

If you please, Ma'am, I will conduct you. —David, do you look for Sir Anthony.

[Exit David.

Mrs. Mal.

Come, girls!—this gentleman will exhort us.—Come, Sir, you're our envoy—lead the way, and we'll precede.

Fag.

Not a step before the ladies for the world!

Mrs. Mal.

You're sure you know the spot.

Fag.

I think I can find it, Ma'am; and one good thing is, we shall hear the report of the pistols as we draw near, so we can't well miss them; never fear, Ma'am, never fear.

[Exeunt, he talking.

SCENE II.

South-Parade.

Enter Absolute, putting his sword under his great∣coat.

Abs.

A sword seen in the streets of Bath would raise as great an alarm as a mad-dog.—How pro∣voking this is in Faulkland!—never punctual! I shall be obliged to go without him at last.—O, the devil! here's Sir Anthony!—how shall I escape him?

[Muffles up his face, and takes a circle to go off.

Enter Sir Anthony.

Sir Anth.

How one may be deceived at a little distance! only that I see he don't know me, I could have sworn that was Jack!—Hey!—'Gad's life; it is.—Why, Jack, you Dog!—what are you afraid of?—hey! sure I'm right.—Why, Jack— Jack Absolute!

[Goes up to him.

Abs.

Really, Sir, you have the advantage of me: —I don't remember ever to have had the honour —my name is Saunderson, at your service.

Sir Anth.

Sir, I beg your pardon—I took you— hey!—why, z—ds! it is—Stay—

[Looks up to his face.

So, so—your humble servant, Mr. Saunderson!— Why, you scoundrel, what tricks are you after now?

Abs.

O! a joke, Sir, a joke!—I came here on purpose to look for you, Sir.

Sir Anth.

You did! well, I am glad you were so lucky:—but what are you muffled up so for? —what's this for?—hey?

Abs.

Tis cool, Sir; isn't it?—rather chilly some∣how—

but I shall be late—I have a particular engagement.

Sir Anth.

Stay.—why, I thought you were look∣ing for me?—Pray, Jack, where is't you are go∣ing?

Abs.

Going, Sir!

Sir Anth.

Aye—where are you going?

Abs.

Where am I going?

Sir Anth.

You unmannerly puppy!

Abs.

I was going, Sir, to—to—to—to Lydia— Sir to Lydia—to make matters up if I could;— and I was looking for you, Sir, to—to—

Sir Anth.

To go with you, I suppose—Well, come along.

Abs.

O! z—ds! no, Sir, not for the world!— I wish'd to meet with you, Sir, to—to—to— You find it cool, I'm sure, Sir—you'd better not stay out.

Sir Anth.

Cool!—not at all—Well, Jack—and what will you say to Lydia?

Abs.

O, Sir, beg her pardon, humour her—pro∣mise and vow:—but I detain you, Sir—consider the cold air on your gout.

Sir Anth.

O, not at all!—not at all!—I'm in no hurry.—Ah! Jack, you youngsters when once you are wounded here.

[Putting his hand to Absolute's breast.

Hey! what the deuce have you got here?

Abs.

Nothing, Sir—nothing.

Sir Anth.

What's this?—here's something d—d hard!

Abs.

O, trinkets, Sir! trinkets—a bauble for Lydia!

Sir Anth.

Nay, let me see your taste.

[Pulls his coat open, the sword falls.

Trinkets!—a bauble for Lydia!—z—ds! sirrah, you are not going to cut her throat, are you?

Abs.

Ha! ha! ha!—I thought it would divert

you, Sir, tho' I didn't mean to tell you till after∣wards.

Sir Anth.

You didn't?—Yes, this is a very di∣verting trinket, truly.

Abs.

Sir, I'll explain to you.—You know, Sir, Lydia is romantic—dev'lish romantic, and very absurd of course:—now, Sir, I intend, if she re∣fuses to forgive me—to unsheath this sword—and swear—I'll fall upon its point, and expire at her feet!

Sir Anth.

Fall upon fiddle-sticks end!—why, I suppose it is the very thing that would please her—Get along, you Fool.—

Abs.

Well, Sir, you shall hear of my success— you shall hear.—"O, Lydia!—forgive me, or this pointed steel"—says I.

Sir Anth.

"O, Booby! stab away, and welcome" —says she—Get along!—and d—n your trinkets!

[Exit Absolute.

Enter David, running.

Dav.

Stop him! stop him! Murder! Thief! Fire!—Stop fire! Stop fire!—O! Sir Anthony— call! call! bid 'em stop! Murder! Fire!

Sir Anth.

Fire! Murder! where?

Dav.

Oons! he's out of sight! and I'm out of breath, for my part! O, Sir Anthony, why didn't you stop him? why didn't you stop him?

Sir Anth.

Z—ds! the fellow's mad!—Stop whom? stop Jack?

Dav.

Aye, the Captain, Sir!—there's murder and slaughter—

Sir Ant.

Murder!

Dav.

Aye, please you, Sir Anthony, there's all kinds of murder, all sorts of slaughter to be seen in the fields: there's fighting going on, Sir— bloody sword-and-gun fighting!

Sir Anth.

Who are going to fight, Dunce?

Dav.

Every body that I know of, Sir Anthony: —every body is going to fight, my poor Master, Sir Lucius O'Trigger, your son, the Captain—

Sir Anth.

O, the Dog!—I see his tricks:—do you know the place?

Dav.

King's-Mead-Fields.

Sir Anth.

You know the way?

Dav.

Not an inch;—but I'll call the Mayor— Aldermen—Constables—Church-wardens—and Beadles—we can't be too many to part them.

Sir Anth.

Come along—give me your shoulder! we'll get assistance as we go—the lying villain!— Well, I shall be in such a phrenzy—So—this was the history of his d—d trinkets! I'll bauble him!

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

King's-Mead-Fields.

Sir Lucius and Acres, with pistols.

Acres.

By my valour! then, Sir Lucius, forty yards is a good distance—Odds levels and aims!— I say it is a good distance.

Sir Luc.

Is it for muskets or small field-pieces? upon my conscience, Mr. Acres, you must leave those things to me.—Stay now—I'll shew you.

[Measures paces along the stage.

there now, that is a very pretty distance—a pretty gentleman's distance.

Acres.

Z—ds! we might as well fight in a sentry∣box! —I tell you, Sir Lucius, the farther he is off, the cooler I shall take my aim.

Sir Luc.

Faith! then I suppose you would aim at him best of all if he was out of sight!

Acres.

No, Sir Lucius—but I should think forty or eight and thirty yards—

Sir Luc.

Pho! pho! nonsense! three or four

feet between the mouths of your pistols is as good as a mile.

Acres.

Odds bullets, no!—by my valour! there is no merit in killing him so near:—do, my dear Sir Lucius, let me bring him down at a long shot:— a long shot, Sir Lucius, if you love me!

Sir Luc.

Well—the gentleman's friend and I must settle that.—But tell me now, Mr. Acres, in case of an accident, is there any little will or com∣mission I could execute for you?

Acres.

I am much obliged to you, Sir Lucius— but I don't understand—

Sir Luc.

Why, you may think there's no being shot at without a little risk—and if an unlucky bullet should carry a Quietus with it—I say it will be no time then to be bothering you about family matters.

Acres.

A Quietus!

Sir Luc.

For instance now—if that should be the case—would you chuse to be pickled and sent home?—or would it be the same to you to lie here in the Abbey?—I'm told there is very snug lying in the Abbey.

Acres.

Pickled!—Snug lying in the Abbey!— Odds tremors! Sir Lucius, don't talk so!

Sir Luc.

I suppose, Mr. Acres, you never were engaged in an affair of this kind before?

Acres.

No, Sir Lucius, never before.

Sir Luc.

Ah! that's a pity!—there's nothing like being used to a thing.—Pray now, how would you receive the gentleman's shot?

Acres.

Odds files!—I've practised that—there, Sir Lucius—there

[Puts himself in an attitude.

—a side-front, hey?—Odd! I'll make myself small enough:—I'll stand edge-ways.

Sir Luc.

Now—you're quite out—for if you stand so when I take my aim—

[Levelling at him.

Acres.

Z—ds! Sir Lucius—are you sure it is not cock'd?

Sir Luc.

Never fear.

Acres.

But—but—you don't know—it may go off of its own head!

Sir Luc.

Pho! be easy—Well, now if I hit you in the body, my bullet has a double chance—for if it misses a vital part on your right side—'twill be very hard if it don't succeed on the left!

Acres.

A vital part! O, my poor vitals!

Sir Luc.

But, there—fix yourself so—

[Placing him.

let him see the broad side of your full front—there —now a ball or two may pass clear thro' your body, and never do any harm at all.

Acres.

Clean thro' me!—a ball or two clean thro' me!

Sir Luc.

Aye—may they—and it is much the genteelest attitude into the bargain.

Acres.

Look'ee! Sir Lucius—I'd just as leive be shot in an aukward posture as a genteel one— so, by my valour! I will stand edge-ways

Sir Luc.

(Looking at his watch.) Sure they don't mean to disappoint us.—Hah?—no faith—I think I see them coming.

Acres.

Hey!—what!—coming!—

Sir Luc.

Aye—Who are those yonder getting over the stile?

Acres.

There are two of them, indeed!—well— let them come—hey, Sir Lucius!—we—we—we —we—won't run.—

Sir Luc.

Run!

Acres.

No—I say—we won't run, by my va∣lour!

Sir Luc.

What the devil's the matter with you?

Acres.

Nothing—nothing—my dear friend— my dear Sir Lucius—but—I-I-I don't feel quite so bold, somehow—as I did.

Sir Luc.

O fie!—consider your honour.

Acres.

Aye—true—my honour—Do, Sir Lu∣cius, hedge in a word or two every now and then about my honour.

Sir Luc.

Well, here they're coming.

[Looking.

Acres.

Sir Lucius—if I wa'n't with you, I should almost think I was afraid—if my valour should leave me!—Valour will come and go.

Sir Luc.

Then, pray keep it fast, while you have it.

Acres.

Sir Lucius—I doubt it is going—yes— my valour is certainly going!—it is sneaking off!— I feel it oozing out as it were at the palms of my hands!

Sir Luc.

Your honour—your honour—Here they are.

Acres.

O mercy!—now—that I were safe at Clod-Hall! or could be shot before I was aware!

Enter Faulkland and Absolute.

Sir Luc.

Gentlemen, your most obedient—hah! —what Captain Absolute!—So, I suppose, Sir, you are come here, just like myself—to do a kind office, first for your friend—then to proceed to business on your own account.

Acres.

What, Jack!—my dear Jack!—my dear friend!

Abs.

Heark'ee, Bob, Beverley's at hand.

Sir Luc.

Well, Mr. Acres—I don't blame your saluting the gentleman civilly.—So, Mr. Beverley, (to Faulkland) if you'll chuse your weapons, the Captain and I will measure the ground.

Faulk.

My weapons, Sir.

Acres.

Odds life! Sir Lucius, I'm not going to fight Mr. Faulkland; these are my particular friends.

Sir Luc.

What, Sir, did not you come here to fight Mr. Acres?

Faulk.

Not I, upon my word, Sir.

Sir Luc.

Well, now, that's mighty provoking! But I hope, Mr. Faulkland, as there are three of us come on purpose for the game—you won't be so cantanckerous as to spoil the party by sitting out.

Abs.

O pray, Faulkland, fight to oblige Sir Lucius.

Faulk.

Nay, if Mr. Acres is so bent on the matter.

Acres.

No, no, Mr. Faulkland—I'll bear my disappointment like a Christian—Look'ee, Sir Lu∣cius, there's no occasion at all for me to fight; and if it is the same to you, I'd as lieve let it alone.

Sir Luc.

Observe me, Mr. Acres—I must not be trifled with. You have certainly challenged somebody—and you came here to fight him— Now, if that gentleman is willing to represent him —I can't see, for my soul, why it isn't just the same thing.

Acres.

Z—ds, Sir Lucius—I tell you, 'tis one Beverley I've challenged—a fellow, you see, that dare not shew his face! If he were here, I'd make him give up his pretensions directly!—

Abs.

Hold, Bob—let me set you right—there is no such man as Beverley in the case.—The per∣son who assumed that name is before you; and as his pretensions are the same in both characters, he is ready to support them in whatever way you please.

Sir Luc.

Well, this is lucky—Now you have an opportunity—

Acres.

What, quarrel with my dear friend Jack Absolute—not if he were fifty Beverleys! Z—ds! Sir Lucius, you would not have me be so unnatural.

Sir Luc.

Upon my conscience, Mr. Acres, your valour has oozed away with a vengeance!

Acres.

Not in the least! Odds Backs and Abet∣tors! I'll be your second with all my heart—and

if you should get a Quietus, you may command me entirely. I'll get you a snug lying in the Ab∣bey here; or pickle you, and send you over to Blunderbuss-hall, or any of the kind with the greatest pleasure.

Sir Luc.

Pho! pho! you are little better than a coward.

Acres.

Mind, gentlemen, he calls me a Coward; Coward was the word, by my valour!

Sir Luc.

Well, Sir?

Acres.

Look'ee, Sir Lucius, 'tisn't that I mind the word Coward—Coward may be said in joke.— But if you had call'd me a Poltroon, Odds Dag∣gers and Balls!

Sir Luc.

Well, Sir?

Acres.

—I should have thought you a very ill-bred man.

Sir Luc.

Pho! you are beneath my notice.

Abs.

Nay, Sir Lucius, you can't have a better second than my friend, Acres—He is a most de∣termined dog—call'd in the country, Fighting Bob.—He generally kills a man a week; don't you, Bob?

Acres.

Aye—at home!

Sir Luc.

Well then, Captain, 'tis we must be∣gin —so come out, my little counsellor,

[draws his sword.

and ask the gentleman, whether he will resign the lady, without forcing you to proceed against him?

Abs.

Come on then, Sir; (draws) since you won't let it be an amicable suit, here's my reply.

[Enter Sir Anthony, David, and the Women.

David.

Knock 'em all down, sweet Sir An∣thony, knock down my Master in particular— and bind his hands over to their good behaviour!

Sir Anth.

Put up, Jack, put up, or I shall be in a frenzy—how came you in a duel, Sir?

Abs.

Faith, Sir, that gentleman can tell you better than I; 'twas he call'd on me, and you know, Sir, I serve his Majesty.

Sir Anth.

Here's a pretty fellow; I catch him going to cut a man's throat, and he tells me, he serves his Majesty!—Zounds! sirrah, then how durst you draw the King's sword against one of his subjects?

Abs.

Sir, I tell you! That gentleman call'd me out, without explaining his reasons.

Sir Anth.

Gad! Sir, how came you to call my son out, without explaining your reasons?

Sir Luc,

Your son, Sir, insulted me in a manner which my honour could not brook.

Sir Anth.

Zounds! Jack, how durst you insult the gentleman in a manner which his honour could not brook?

Mrs. Mal.

Come, come, let's have no Honour before ladies—Captain Absolute, come here—How could you intimidate us so?—Here's Lydia has been terrified to death for you.

Abs.

For fear I should be kill'd, or escape, Ma'am?

Mrs. Mal.

Nay, no delusions to the past—Lydia is convinc'd; speak child.

Sir Luc.

With your leave, Ma'am, I must put in a word here—I believe I could interpret the young lady's silence—Now mark—

Lyd.

What is it you mean, Sir?

Sir Luc.

Come, come, Delia, we must be seri∣ous now—this is no time for trifling.

Lyd.

'Tis true, Sir; and your reproof bids me offer this gentleman my hand, and solicit the re∣turn of his affections.

Abs.

O! my little angel, say you so?—Sir Lu∣cius —I perceive there must be some mistake here —with regard to the affront which you affirm I have given you—I can only say, that it could not have been intentional.—And as you must be con∣vinced,

that I should not fear to support a real in∣jury —you shall now see that I am not ashamed to atone for an inadvertency—I ask your pardon.— But for this lady, while honour'd with her appro∣bation, I will support my claim against any man whatever.

Sir Anth.

Well said, Jack, and I'll stand by you, my Boy.

Acres.

Mind, I give up all my claim—I make no pretensions to any thing in the world—and if I can't get a wife, without fighting for her, by my Valour! I'll live a bachelor.

Sir Luc.

Captain, give me your hand—an af∣front handsomely acknowledged becomes an obli∣gation —and as for the Lady—if she chuses to deny her own hand writing here—

(Taking out letters.)

Mrs. Mal.

O, he will desolve my mystery!—Sir Lucius, perhaps there's some mistake—perhaps, I can illuminate—

Sir Luc.

Pray, old gentlewoman, don't inter∣fere, where you have no business.—Miss Languish, are you my Delia, or not?

Lyd.

Indeed, Sir Lucius, I am not.

(Lydia and Absolute walk aside.)

Mrs. Mal.

Sir Lucius O'Trigger—ungrateful as you are—I own the soft impeachment—pardon my blushes, I am Delia.

Sir Luc.

You Delia—pho! pho! be easy.

Mrs. Mal.

Why, thou barbarous Vandyke— those letters are mine—When you are more sen∣sible of my benignity—perhaps I may be brought to encourage your addresses.

Sir Luc.

Mrs. Malaprop, I am extremely sensible of your condescension; and whether you or Lucy have put this trick upon me, I am equally be∣holden to you.—And to shew you I'm not un∣grateful, Captain Absolute! since you have taken that lady from me, I'll give you my Delia into the bargain.

Abs.

I am much obliged to you, Sir Lucius; but here's our friend, fighting Bob, unprovided for.

Sir Luc.

Hah! little Valour—here, will you make your fortune?

Acres.

Odds Wrinkles! No.—But give us your hand, Sir Lucius, forget and forgive; but if ever I give you a chance of pickling me again, say Bob Acres is a Dunce, that's all.

Sir Anth.

Come, Mrs. Malaprop, don't be cast down—you are in your bloom yet.

Mrs. Mal.

O Sir Anthony!—men are all barba∣rians—

(All retire but Julia and Faulkland.)

Jul.

He seems dejected and unhappy—not sul∣len —there was some foundation, however, for the tale he told me—O woman! how true should be your judgment, when your resolution is so weak!

Faulk.

Julia!—how can I sue for what I so little deserve? I dare not presume—yet Hope is the child of Penitence.

Jul.

Oh! Faulkland, you have not been more faulty in your unkind treatment of me, than I am now in wanting inclination to resent it. As my heart honestly bids me place my weakness to the account of love, I should be ungenerous not to admit the same plea for your's.

Faulk.

Now I shall be blest indeed!

(Sir Anthony comes forward.)

Sir Anth.

What's going on here?—So you have been quarrelling too, I warrant.—Come, Julia, I never interfered before; but let me have a hand in the matter at last.—All the faults I have ever seen in my friend Faulkland, seemed to proceed from what he calls the delicacy and warmth of his affec∣tion for you—There, marry him directly, Julia, you'll find he'll mend surprisingly!

(The rest come forward.)

Sir Luc.

Come now, I hope there is no dissatis∣fied person, but what is content; for as I have

been disappointed myself, it will be very hard if I have not the satisfaction of seeing other people suc∣ceed better—

Acres.

You are right, Sir Lucius.—So, Jack, I wish you joy—Mr. Faulkland the same.—Ladies, —come now, to shew you I'm neither vex'd nor angry, Odds Tabors and Pipes! I'll order the fiddles in half an hour, to the New Rooms—and I insist on you all meeting me there.

Sir Anth.

Gad! Sir, I like your spirit; and at night we single lads will drink a health to the young couples, and a husband to Mrs. Malaprop.

Faulk.

Our partners are stolen from us, Jack— I hope to be congratulated by each other—yours for having checked in time, the errors of an ill∣directed Imagination, which might have betray'd an innocent heart; and mine, for having, by her gentleness and candour, reformed the unhappy temper of one, who by it made wretched whom he loved most, and tortured the heart he ought to have ador'd.

Abs.

Well, Jack, we have both tasted the Bit∣ters, as well as the Sweets, of Love—with this dif∣ference only, that you always prepared the bitter cup for yourself, while I—

Lyd.

Was always obliged to me for it, hey! Mr. Modesty?—But come, no more of that— our happiness is now as unallay'd as general.

Jul.

Then let us study to preserve it so: and while Hope pictures to us a flattering scene of fu∣ture Bliss, let us deny its pencil those colours which are too bright to be lasting.—When Hearts deserv∣ing Happiness would unite their fortune, Virtue would crown them with an unfading garland of mo∣dest, hurtless flowers; but ill-judging Passion will force the gaudier Rose into the wreath, whose thorn offends them, when its Leaves are dropt!