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

ACT II.

SCENE I.

Captain Absolute's Lodgings.

Captain Absolute and Fag.

Fag.

SIR, while I was there, Sir Anthony came in: I told him, you had sent me to in∣quire after his health, and to know if he was at leisure to see you.

Abs.

And what did he say, on hearing I was at Bath?

Fag.

Sir, in my life I never saw an elderly gen∣tleman more astonished! He started back two or three paces, rapt out a dozen interjectoral oaths, and asked, what the devil had brought you here!

Abs.

Well, Sir, and what did you say?

Fag.

O, I lied, Sir—I forgot the precise lie, but you may depend on't; he got no truth from me. Yet, with submission, for fear of blunders in fu∣ture, I should be glad to fix what has brought us to Bath: in order that we may lie a little consistently. —Sir Anthony's servants were curious, Sir, very curious indeed.

Abs.

You have said nothing to them—?

Fag.

O, not a word, Sir—not a word.—Mr. Thomas, indeed, the coachman (whom I take to be the discreetest of whips)—

Abs.

S'death!—you rascal! you have not trusted him!

Fag.

O, no, Sir—no—no—not a syllable, upon my veracity!—He was, indeed, a little inquisitive; but I was fly, Sir—devilish fly!—My Master (said I) honest Thomas (you know, Sir, one says honest to one's inferiors) is come to Bath to recruit—Yes, Sir—I said, to recruit—and whether for men, mo∣ney, or constitution, you know, Sir, is nothing to him, nor any one else.

Abs.

Well—recruit will do—let it be so—

Fag.

O, Sir, recruit will do surprisingly—indeed, to give the thing an air, I told Thomas, that your Honour had already inlisted, five disbanded chair∣men, seven minority waiters, and thirteen billiard markers.

Abs.

You blockhead, never say more than is necessary.

Fag.

I beg pardon, Sir—I beg pardon—But with submission, a lie is nothing unless one sup∣ports it.—Sir, whenever I draw on my invention for a good current lie, I always forge indorsements, as well as the bill.

Abs.

Well, take care you don't hurt your cre∣dit, by offering too much security.—Is Mr. Faulk∣land returned?

Fag.

He is above, Sir, changing his dress.

Abs.

Can you tell whether he has been informed of Sir Anthony's and Miss Melville's arrival?

Fag.

I fancy not, Sir; he has seen no one since he came in, but his gentleman, who was with him at Bristol.—I think, Sir, I hear Mr. Faulkland coming down—

Abs.

Go, tell him, I am here.

Fag.

Yes, Sir—(going) I beg pardon, Sir, but should Sir Anthony call, you will do me the fa∣vour to remember, that we are recruiting, if you please.

Abs.

Well, well.

Fag.

And in tenderness to my character, if your Honour could bring in the chairman and waiters, I shall esteem it as an obligation;—for though I never scruple a lie to serve my Master, yet it hurts one's conscience, to be found out.

[Exit.

Abs.

Now for my whimsical friend—if he does not know that his mistress is here, I'll tease him a little before I tell him—

Enter Faulkland.

Faulkland, you're welcome to Bath again; you are punctual in your return.

Faulk.

Yes; I had nothing to detain me, when I had finished the business I went on. Well, what news since I left you? How stand matters between you and Lydia?

Abs.

Faith, much as they were; I have not seen her since our quarrel, however I expect to be re∣called every hour.

Faulk.

Why don't you persuade her to go off with you at once?

Abs.

What, and lose two thirds of her fortune? You forget that my friend.—No, no, I could have brought her to that long ago.

Faulk.

Nay then, you trifle too long—if you are sure of her, propose to the aunt in your own character, and write to Sir Anthony for his con∣sent.

Abs.

Softly, softly, for though I am convinced my little Lydia would elope with me as Ensign Beverley, yet am I by no means certain that she would take me with the impediment of our friend's consent, a regular humdrum wedding, and the re∣version of a good fortune on my side; no, no, I must prepare her gradually for the discovery, and make myself necessary to her, before I risk it.— Well, but Faulkland, you'll dine with us to-day at the Hotel?

Faulk.

Indeed I cannot: I am not in spirits to be of such a party.

Abs.

By Heavens! I shall forswear your com∣pany. You are the most teasing, captious, incor∣rigible lover!—Do love like a man.

Faulk.

I own I am unfit for company.

Abs.

Am not I a lover; aye, and a romantic one too? Yet do I carry every where with me such a confounded farago of doubts, fears, hopes, wishes, and all the flimsy furniture of a country Miss's brain!

Faulk.

Ah! Jack, your heart and soul are not, like mine, fixed immutably on one only object.— You throw for a large stake, but losing—you could stake, and throw again:—but I have set my sum of happiness on this cast, and not to succeed, were to be stript of all.

Abs.

But for Heaven's sake! what grounds for apprehension can your whimsical brain conjure up at present? Has Julia miss'd writing this last post? or was her last too tender, or too cool; or too grave, or too gay; or—

Faulk.

Nay, nay, Jack.

Abs.

Why, her love—her honour—her pru∣dence, you cannot doubt.

Faulk.

O! upon my soul, I never have;—but what grounds for apprehension did you say? Heavens! are there not a thousand! I fear for her spirits—her health—her life.—My absence may fret her; her anxiety for my return, her fears for me, may oppress her gentle temper. And for her health—does not every hour bring me cause to be alarmed? If it rains, some shower may even then have chilled her delicate frame!—If the wind be keen, some rude blast may have affected her! The heat of noon, the dews of the evening, may endanger the life of her, for whom only I value mine. O! Jack, when delicate and feeling souls are separated, there is not a feature in the sky, not

a movement of the elements; not an aspiration of the breeze, but hints some cause for a lover's ap∣prehension!

Abs.

Aye, but we may choose whether we will take the hint or no.—Well then, Faulkland, if you were convinced that Julia was well and in spirits, you would be entirely content.

Faulk.

I should be happy beyond measure— I'm anxious only for that.

Abs.

Then to cure your anxiety at once—Miss Melville is in perfect health, and is at this moment in Bath.

Faulk.

Nay Jack—don't trifle with me.

Abs.

She is arrived here with my father within this hour.

Faulk.

Can you be serious?

Abs.

I thought you knew Sir Anthony better than to be surprised at a sudden whim of this kind. —Seriously then, it is as I tell you—upon my honour.

Falk.

My dear friend!—Hollo, Du-Peigne! my hat—my dear Jack—now nothing on earth can give me a moment's uneasiness.

Enter Fag.

Fag.

Sir, Mr. Acres just arrived is below.

Abs.

Stay, Faulkland, this Acres lives within a mile of Sir Anthony, and he shall tell you how your mistress has been ever since you left her.— Fag, shew the gentleman up.

[Exit Fag.

Faulk.

What, is he much acquainted in the fa∣mily?

Abs.

O, very intimate: I insist on your not going: besides, his character will divert you.

Faulk.

Well, I should like to ask him a few questions.

Abs.

He is likewise a rival of mine—that is of my other self's, for he does not think his friend

Capt. Absolute ever saw the lady in question;—and it is ridiculous enough to hear him complain to me of one Beverley a concealed sculking rival, who—

Faulk.

Hush!—He's here.

Enter Acres.

Acres.

Hah! my dear friend, noble captain, and honest Jack, how do'st thou? just arrived faith, as you see.—Sir, your humble servant. Warm work on the roads Jack—Odds, whips and wheels, I've travelled like a Comet, with a tail of dust all the way as long as the Mall.

Abs.

Ah! Bob, you are indeed an excentric Planet, but we know your attraction hither—give me leave to introduce Mr. Faulkland to you; Mr. Faulkland, Mr. Acres.

Acres.

Sir, I am most heartily glad to see you: Sir, I solicit your connections.—Hey Jack—what this is Mr. Faulkland, who—

Abs.

Aye, Bob, Miss Melville's Mr. Faulkland.

Acres.

Od'so! she and your father can be but just arrived before me—I suppose you have seen them.—Ah! Mr. Faulkland, you are indeed a happy man.

Faulk.

I have not seen Miss Melville yet, Sir— I hope she enjoyed full health and spirits in Devon∣shire.

Acres.

Never knew her better in my life, Sir,— never better.—Odd's Blushes and Blooms! she has been as healthy as the German Spa.

Faulk.

Indeed!—I did hear that she had been a little indisposed.

Acres.

False, false, Sir—only said to vex you: quite the reverse I assure you.

Faulk.

There, Jack, you see she has the advan∣tage of me; I had almost fretted myself ill.

Abs.

Now are you angry with your mistress for not having been sick.

Faulk.

No, no, you misunderstand me:—yet surely a little trifling indisposition is not an unna∣tural consequence of absence from those we love. —Now confess—isn't there something unkind in this violent, robust, unfeeling health?

Abs.

O, it was very unkind of her to be well in your absence to be sure!

Acres.

Good apartments, Jack.

Faulk.

Well Sir, but you were saying that Miss Melville has been so exceedingly well—what then she has been merry and gay I suppose?—Always in spirits—hey?

Acres.

Merry, Odds Crickets! she has been the bell and spirit of the company wherever she has been—so lively and entertaining! so full of wit and humour!

Faulk.

There, Jack, there.—O, by my soul! there is an innate levity in woman, that nothing can overcome.—What! happy and I away!

Abs.

Have done: how foolish this is! just now you were only apprehensive for your mistress's spirits.

Faulk.

Why Jack, have I been the joy and spi∣rit of the company?

Abs.

No indeed, you have not.

Faulk.

Have I been lively and entertaining?

Abs.

O, upon my word, I acquit you.

Faulk.

Have I been full of wit and humour?

Abs.

No, faith, to do you justice, you have been confounded stupid indeed.

Acres.

What's the matter with the gentleman?

Abs.

He is only expressing his great satisfaction at hearing that Julia has been so well and happy— that's all—hey, Faulkland?

Faulk.

Oh! I am rejoiced to hear it—yes, yes, she has a happy disposition!

Acres.

That she has indeed—then she is so ac∣complished—so sweet a voice—so expert at her

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Harpsichord—such a mistress of flat and sharp, squallante, rumblante, and quiverante!—there was this time month—Odds Minnums and Crotchets! how she did chirup at Mrs. Piano's Concert.

Faulk.

There again, what say you to this? you see she has been all mirth and song—not a thought of me!

Abs.

Pho! man, is not music the food of love?

Faulk.

Well, well, it may be so.—Pray Mr.— what's his d—d name?—Do you remember what Songs Miss Melville sung?

Acres.

Not I, indeed.

Abs.

Stay now, they were some pretty, melan∣choly, purling stream airs, I warrant; perhaps you may recollect:—did she sing—'When absent from my soul's delight?'

Acres.

No, that wa'n't it.

Abs.

Or—'Go, gentle Gales!'—'Go, gentle Gales!' (sings.)

Acres.

O no! nothing like it.—Odds slips? now I recollect one of them—'My heart's my own, my will is free.' (sings)

Faulk.

Fool! fool that I am! to fix all my hap∣piness on such a trifler! S'death! to make herself the pipe and ballad-monger of a circle! to sooth her light heart with catches and glees!—What can you say to this, Sir?

Abs.

Why, that I should be glad to hear my mistress had been so merry, Sir.

Faulk.

Nay, nay, nay—I am not sorry that she has been happy—no, no, I am glad of that—I would not have had her sad or sick—yet surely a sympathetic heart would have shewn itself even in the choice of a song—she might have been temperately healthy, and somehow, plaintively gay;—but she has been dancing too, I doubt not!

Acres.

What does the gentleman say about dancing?

Abs.

He says the lady we speak of dances as well as she sings.

Acres.

Aye truly, does she—there was at our last race-ball—

Faulk.

Hell and the devil! There! there!—I told you so! I told you so! Oh! she thrives in my absence!—Dancing!—but her whole feelings have been in opposition with mine!—I have been anxious, silent, pensive, sedentary—my days have been hours of care, my nights of watchfulness.— She has been all Health! Spirit! Laugh! Song! Dance!—Oh! d—n'd, d—n'd levity!

Abs.

For Heaven's sake! Faulkland, don't ex∣pose yourself so.—Suppose she has danced, what then?—does not the ceremony of society often oblige—

Faulk.

Well, well, I'll contain myself—perhaps, as you say—for form sake.—What, Mr. Acres, you were praising Miss Melville's manner of danc∣ing a minuet—hey?

Acres.

O I dare insure her for that—but what I was going to speak of was her country dancing:— Odds swimmings! she has such an air with her!—

Faulk.

Now disappointment on her!—defend this, Absolute, why don't you defend this?— Country-dances! jiggs, and reels! am I to blame now? A Minuet I could have forgiven—I should not have minded that—I say I should not have re∣garded a Minuet—but Country-dances! Z—ds! had she made one in a Cotillon—I believe I could have forgiven even that—but to be monkey-led for a night!—to run the gauntlet thro' a string of amorous palming puppies!—to shew paces like a managed filly!—O Jack, there never can be but one man in the world, whom a truly modest and delicate woman ought to pair with in a Coun∣try-dance;

and even then, the rest of the couples should be her great uncles and aunts!

Abs.

Aye, to be sure!—grand-fathers and grand-mothers!

Faulk.

If there be but one vicious mind in the Set, 'twill spread like a contagion—the action of their pulse bears to the lascivious movement of the jigg—their quivering, warm-breath'd sighs impregnate the very air—the atmosphere be∣comes electrical to love, and each amorous spark darts thro' every link of the chain!—I must leave you—I own I am somewhat flurried— and that confounded looby has perceived it.

[Going.

Abs.

Aye, aye, you are in a hurry to throw yourself at Julia's feet.

Faulk.

I'm not in a humour to be trifled with— I shall see her only to upbraid her.

[Going.

Abs.

Nay, but stay Faulkland, and thank Mr. Acres for his good news.

Faulk.

D—n his news!

[Exit Faulkland.

Abs.

Ha! ha! ha! poor Faulkland five mi∣nutes since—'nothing on earth could give him a moment's uneasiness!'

Acres.

The gentleman wa'n't angry at my praising his mistress, was he?

Abs.

A little jealous, I believe, Bob.

Acres.

You don't say so? Ha! ha! jealous of me—that's a good joke.

Abs.

There's nothing strange in that, Bob: let me tell you, that sprightly grace and insinuating manner of your's will do some mischief among the girls here.

Abs.

Ah! you joke—ha! ha! mischief—ha! ha! but you know I am not my own property, my dear Lydia, has forestalled me.—She could never abide me in the country, because I used to dress so badly—but odds frogs and tambours! I

shan't take matters so here—now ancient Ma∣dam has no voice in it—I'll make my old clothes know who's master—I shall straitway cashier the hunting-frock—and render my leather breeches incapable—My hair has been in training some time.

Abs.

Indeed!

Acres.

Aye—and tho'ff the side-curls are a little restive, my hind-part takes to it very kindly.

Abs.

O, you'll polish, I doubt not.

Acres.

Absolutely I propose so—then if I can find out this Ensign Beverley, odds triggers and flints! I'll make him know the difference o't.

Abs.

Spoke like a man—but pray, Bob, I observe you have got an odd kind of a new me∣thod of swearing—

Acres.

Ha! ha! you've taken notice of it—'tis genteel, isn't?—I didn't invent it myself though; but a commander in our militia—a great scholar, I assure you—says that there is no meaning in the common oaths, and that nothing but their antiquity makes them respectable;—because, he says, the ancients would never stick to an oath or two, but would say By Jove! or by Bacchus! or by Mars! or by Venus! or by Pallas! according to the sentiment —so that to swear with propriety, says my little Major, the 'oath should be an echo to the sense;' and this we call the oath referential, or sentimental swearing—ha! ha! ha! 'tis genteel, isn't it?

Abs.

Very genteel, and very new indeed—and I dare say will supplant all other figures of impre∣cation.

Acres.

Aye, aye, the best terms will grow ob∣solete—D—ns have had their day.

Enter Fag.

Fag.

Sir, there is a gentleman below, desires to see you—shall I shew him into the parlour?

Abs.

Aye—you may.

Acres.

Well, I must be gone—

Abs.

Stay; who is it, Fag?

Fag.

Your father, Sir.

Abs.

You puppy, why didn't you shew him up directly?

[Exit Fag.

Acres.

You have business with Sir Anthony.— I expect a message from Mrs. Malaprop at my lodgings—I have sent also to my dear friend Sir Lucius O'Trigger.—Adieu, Jack, we must meet at night—Odds bottles and glasses! you shall give me a dozen bumpers to little Lydia.

Abs.

That I will with all my heart.

[Exit Acres.

Abs.

Now for a parental lecture—I hope he has heard nothing of the business that has brought me here.—I wish the gout had held him fast in Devon∣shire, with all my soul!

Enter Sir Anthony.

Abs.

Sir, I am delighted to see you here; and looking so well!—your sudden arrival at Bath made me apprehensive for your health.

Sir Anth.

Very apprehensive, I dare say, Jack. —What, you are recruiting here, hey?

Abs.

Yes, Sir, I am on duty.

Sir Anth.

Well, Jack, I am glad to see you, tho' I did not expect it, for I was going to write to you on a little matter of business.—Jack, I have been considering that I grow old and infirm, and shall probably not trouble you long.

Abs.

Pardon me, Sir, I never saw you look more strong and hearty; and I pray frequently that you may continue so.

Sir Anth.

I hope your prayers may be heard with all my heart. Well then, Jack, I have been considering that I am so strong and hearty, I may continue to plague you a long time.—Now, Jack, I am sensible that the income of your commission,

and what I have hitherto allowed you, is but a small pittance for a lad of your spirit.

Abs.

Sir, you are very good.

Sir Anth.

And it is my wish, while yet I live, to have my Boy make some figure in the world.— I have resolved, therefore, to fix you at once in a noble independence.

Abs.

Sir, your kindness overpowers me—such generosity makes the gratitude of reason more lively than the sensations even of filial affection.

Sir Anth.

I am glad you are so sensible of my attention—and you shall be master of a large estate in a few weeks.

Abs.

Let my future life, Sir, speak my grati∣tude: I cannot express the sense I have of your munificence.—Yet, Sir, I presume you would not wish me to quit the army?

Sir Anth.

O, that shall be as your wife chooses.

Abs.

My wife, Sir!

Sir Anth.

Aye, aye, settle that between you— settle that between you.

Abs.

A wife, Sir, did you say?

Sir Anth.

Aye, a wife—why; did not I men∣tion her before?

Abs.

Not a word of it, Sir.

Sir Anth.

Odd so!—I mustn't forget her tho'.— Yes, Jack, the independence I was talking of is by a marriage—the fortune is saddled with a wife— but I suppose that makes no difference.

Abs.

Sir! Sir!—you amaze me!

Sir Anth.

Why, what the d—l's the matter with the fool? Just now you were all gratitude and duty.

Abs.

I was, Sir,—you talked to me of inde∣pendence and a fortune, but not a word of a wife.

Sir Anth.

Why—what difference does that make? Odd's life, Sir! if you have the estate, you must take it with the live stock on it, as it stands.

Abs.

If my happiness is to be the price, I must beg leave to decline the purchase.—Pray, Sir, who is the lady?

Sir Anth.

What's that to you, Sir?—Come, give me your promise to love, and to marry her di∣rectly.

Abs.

Sure, Sir, this is not very reasonable, to summon my affections for a lady I know nothing of!

Sir Anth.

I am sure, Sir, 'tis more unreasonable in you to object to a lady you know nothing of.

Abs.

Then, Sir, I must tell you plainly, that my inclinations are fix'd on another.

Sir Anth.

They are, are they? well, that's lucky —because you will have more merit in your obe∣dience to me.

Abs.

Sir, my heart is engaged to an Angel.

Sir Anth.

Then pray let it send an excuse.— It is very sorry—but business prevents it's waiting on her.

Abs.

But my vows are pledged to her.

Sir Anth.

Let her foreclose, Jack; let her fore∣close; they are not worth redeeming; besides, you have the Angel's vows in exchange, I suppose; so there can be no loss there.

Abs.

You must excuse me, Sir, if I tell you, once for all, that in this point I cannot obey you.

Sir Anth.

Hark'ee Jack;—I have heard you for some time with patience—I have been cool,—quite cool;—but take care—you know I am compliance itself—when I am not thwarted;—no one more easily led—when I have my own way;—but don't put me in a phrenzy.

Abs.

Sir, I must repeat it—in this I cannot obey you.

Sir Anth.

Now, d—n me! if ever I call you Jack again while I live!

Abs.

Nay, Sir, but hear me.

Sir Anth.

Sir, I won't hear a word—not a word! not one word! so give me your promise by a nod— and I'll tell you what, Jack—I mean, you Dog—if you don't, by—

Abs.

What, Sir, promise to link myself to some mass of ugliness! to—

Sir Anth.

Z—ds! sirrah! the lady shall be as ugly as I choose: she shall have a hump on each shoulder; she shall be as crooked as the Crescent; her one eye shall roll like the Bull's in Coxe's mu∣saeum—she shall have a skin like a mummy, and the beard of a Jew—she shall be all this, sirrah!— yet I'll make you ogle her all day, and sit up all night to write sonnets on her beauty.

Abs.

This is reason and moderation indeed!

Sir Anth.

None of your sneering, puppy! no grinning, jackanapes!

Abs.

Indeed, Sir, I never was in a worse hu∣mour for mirth in my life.

Sir Anth.

'Tis false, Sir! I know you are laugh∣ing in your sleeve: I know you'll grin when I am gone, sirrah!

Abs.

Sir, I hope I know my duty better.

Sir Anth.

None of your passion, Sir! none of your violence! if you please.—It won't do with me, I promise you.

Abs.

Indeed, Sir, I never was cooler in my life.

Sir Anth.

'Tis a confounded lie!—I know you are in a passion in your heart; I know you are, you hypocritical young dog! but it won't do.

Abs.

Nay, Sir, upon my word.

Sir Anth.

So you will fly out! can't you be cool, like me? What the devil good can Passion do!— Passion is of no service, you impudent, insolent, over∣bearing Reprobate!—There you sneer again!— don't provoke me!—but you rely upon the mild∣ness of my temper—you do, you Dog! you play upon the weakness of my disposition! Yet take

care—the patience of a saint may be overcome at last!—but mark! I give you six hours and a half to consider of this: if you then agree, without any condition, to do every thing on earth that I choose, why—confound you! I may in time for∣give you—If not, z—ds! don't enter the same hemisphere with me! don't dare to breath the same air, or use the same light with me; but get an atmosphere and sun of your own! I'll strip you of your commission; I'll lodge a five-and-three∣pence in the hands of trustees, and you shall live on the interest.—I'll disown you, I'll disinherit you, I'll unget you! and—d—n me, if ever I call you Jack again!

[Exit Sir Anthony.

Absolute, solus.

Abs.

Mild, gentle, considerate father—I kiss your hands.—What a tender method of giving his opi∣nion in these matters Sir Anthony has! I dare not trust him with the truth.—I wonder what old, wealthy Hag it is that he wants to bestow on me! —yet he married himself for love! and was in his youth a bold Intriguer, and a gay Companion!

Enter Fag.

Fag.

Assuredly, Sir, our Father is wrath to a degree; he comes down stairs eight or ten steps at a time—muttering, growling, and thumping the bannisters all the way: I, and the Cook's dog, stand bowing at the door—rap! he gives me a stroke on the head with his cane; bids me carry that to my master, then kicking the poor Turn∣spit into the area, d—ns us all, for a puppy tri∣umvirate!—Upon my credit, Sir, were I in your place, and found my father such very bad company, I should certainly drop his acquaintance.

Abs.

Cease your impertinence, Sir, at present. —Did you come in for nothing more?—Stand out of the way!

[Pushes him aside, and Exit.

Fag, solus.

Fag.

Soh! Sir Anthony trims my Master; He is afraid to reply to his Father—then vents his spleen on poor Fag!—When one is vexed by one per∣son, to revenge one's self on another, who happens to come in the way—is the vilest injustice! Ah! it shews the worst temper—the basest—

Enter Errand-Boy.

Boy.

Mr. Fag! Mr. Fag! your Master calls you.

Fag.

Well, you little, dirty puppy, you need not baul so!—The meanest disposition! the—

Boy.

Quick, quick, Mr. Fag.

Fag.

Quick, quick, you impudent Jackanapes! am I to be commanded by you too? you little, impertinent, insolent, kitchen-bred—

[Exit, kicking and beating him.

SCENE II.

The North Parade.

Enter Lucy.

Lucy.

So—I shall have another Rival to add to my mistress's list—Captain Absolute.—However, I shall not enter his name till my purse has received notice in form. Poor Acres is dismissed!—Well, I have done him a last friendly office, in letting him know that Beverley was here before him.—Sir Lucius is generally more punctual, when he ex∣pects to hear from his dear Dalia, as he calls her: —I wonder he's not here!—I have a little scruple of conscience from this deceit; tho' I should not be paid so well, if my hero knew that Delia was near fifty, and her own mistress.—I could not have thought he would have been so nice, when there's a golden egg in the case, as to care whether he has it from a pullet or an old hen!

Enter Sir Lucius O'Trigger.

Sir Luc.

Hah! my little embassadress—upon my conscience I have been looking for you; I have been on the South Parade this half-hour.

Lucy.

(Speaking simply) O gemini! and I have been waiting for your worship here on the North.

Sir Luc.

Faith!—may be, that was the reason we did not meet; and it is very comical too, how you could go out and I not see you—for I was only taking a nap at the Parade-Coffee-house, and I chose the window on purpose that I might not miss you.

Lucy.

My stars! Now I'd wager a six-pence I went by while you were asleep.

Sir Luc.

Sure enough it must have been so— and I never dreamt it was so late, till I waked. Well, but my little girl, have you got nothing for me?

Lucy.

Yes, but I have:—I've got a letter for you in my pocket.

Sir Luc.

O faith! I guessed you weren't come empty-handed—well—let me see what the dear creature says.

Lucy.

There, Sir Lucius. (Gives him a letter.)

Sir Luc.

(Reads)

Sir—there is often a sudden in∣centive impulse in love, that has a greater induction than years of domestic combination: such was the commotion I felt at the first superfluous view of Sir Lucius O'Trigger.

Very pretty, upon my word.

As my motive is interested, you may be assured my love shall never be miscellaneous.

Very well.

Fe∣male punctuation forbids me to say more; yet let me add, that it will give me joy infallible to find Sir Lucius worthy the last criterion of my affections.—

Yours, while meretricious.—DELIA.

Upon my conscience! Lucy, your lady is a great mistress of language.—Faith, she's quite the queen

of the dictionary!—for the devil a word dare re∣fuse coming at her call—tho' one would think it was quite out of hearing.

Lucy.

Aye, Sir, a lady of her experience.

Sir Luc.

Experience! what, at seventeen?

Lucy.

O true, Sir—but then she reads so— my stars! how she will read off-hand!

Sir Luc.

Faith, she must be very deep read to write this way—tho' she is rather an arbitrary writer too—for here are a great many poor words pressed into the service of this note, that would get their habeas corpus from any court in Christen∣dom.—However, when affection guides the pen, Lucy, he must be a brute who finds fault with the style.

Lucy.

Ah! Sir Lucius, if you were to hear how she talks of you!

Sir Luc.

O tell her, I'll make her the best hus∣band in the world, and Lady O'Trigger into the bargain!—But we must get the old gentlewoman's consent—and do every thing fairly.

Lucy.

Nay, Sir Lucius, I thought you wa'n't rich enough to be so nice!

Sir Luc.

Upon my word, young woman, you have hit it:—I am so poor that I can't afford to do a dirty action.—If I did not want money I'd steal your mistress and her fortune with a great deal of plea∣sure.—However, my pretty girl, (gives her money) here's a little something to buy you a ribband; and meet me in the evening, and I'll give you an answer to this. So, hussy, take a kiss before-hand, to put you in mind.

(Kisses her.)

Lucy.

O lud! Sir Lucius—I never seed such a gemman! My lady won't like you if you're so impudent.

Sir Luc.

Faith she will, Lucy—that same— pho! what's the name of it?—Modesty!—is a quality in a lover more praised by the women than liked; so, if your mistress asks you whether Sir Lu∣cius ever gave you a kiss, tell her fifty—my dear.

Lucy.

What, would you have me tell her a lie?

Sir Luc.

Ah then, you baggage! I'll make it a truth presently.

Lucy.

For shame now; here is some one coming.

Sir Luc.

O faith, I'll quiet your conscience!

[Sees Fag.—Exit, humming a Tune.

Enter Fag.

Fag.

So, so, Ma'am. I humbly beg pardon.

Lucy.

O lud!—now, Mr. Fag—you flurry one so.

Fag.

Come, come, Lucy, here's no one bye— so a little less simplicity, with a grain or two more sincerity, if you please.—You play false with us, Madam.—I saw you give the Baronet a let∣ter.—My Master shall know this—and if he don't call him out—I will.

Lucy.

Ha! ha! ha! you gentlemen's gentle∣men are so hasty.—That letter was from Mrs. Malaprop, simpleton.—She is taken with Sir Lucius's address.

Fag.

What tastes some people have!—Why I suppose I have walked by her window an hundred times.—But what says our young lady? Any message to my master?

Lucy.

Sad news! Mr. Fag.—A worse Rival than Acres!—Sir Anthony Absolute has proposed his son.

Fag.

What, Captain Absolute?

Lucy.

Even so.—I overheard it all.

Fag.

Ha! ha! ha!—very good, faith.—Good∣bye, Lucy, I must away with this news.

Lucy.

Well—you may laugh—but it is true, I assure you.

(Going.)

But—Mr. Fag—tell your master not to be cast down by this.

Fag.

O he'll be so disconsolate!

Luc.

And charge him not to think of quarrel∣ling with young Absolute.

Fag.

Never fear!—never fear!

Lucy.

Be sure—bid him keep up his spirits.

Fag.

We will—we will.

[Exeunt severally.

END OF THE SECOND ACT.