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Dr. Cant. Which opinion is immovable.
Dr. Cant. I am afraid, then, it will be a vain pursuit, when I solicit you, in compliance with my worthy friend's desire, and my own inclinations, to become my partner in that blessed estate, in which we may be a comfort and support to each other.
Charl. I would die rather than consent to it.
Dr. Cant. Well, there is sincerity, at least, in your confession: you are not, I see, totally deprived of all virtue ; though, I must say, I never could perceive in you but very little.
Charl. Oh, fie! you flatter me !
because you are the daughter of my best friend. But how are we to proceed now? Are we to preserve temper?
Charl, Oh! never fear me, sir ; I shall not fiy out; being convinced, that nothing gives so sharp a point to one's aversion as good breeding; as, on the contrary, ill manners often hide a secret inclination.
Dr. Cant. Well then, young lady, be assured, so far am I from the unchristian disposition of returning injuries, that your antipathy to me causes no hatred in my soul towards you ; on the contrary, I would willingly make you happy, if it may be done according to my conscience, with the interest of heaven in view.
Charl. Why, I can't see, sir, how heaven can be any away concerned in a transaction between you and me,
Dr. Cant. When you marry any other person, iny consent is necessary.
Chari. So I hear, indeed !--but pray, doctor, how could your modesty receive so i solent a power, without putting my poor father out of countenance with your blushes ?
Dr. Cant. I sought it not; but he would crowd it in among their obligations. He is good-natured ; and I foresaw it might serve to pious purposes.
Charl. I don't understand you.
Dr. Cant. I take it for granted, that you would marry Mr. Darnley. Am I right?
Charl. Once in your life, perhaps, you are.
Dr. Cant. Nay, let us be plain. Would you marry him?
Charl. You're mighty nice, methinks. Well, I would.
Dr. Cant. Then I will not consent.
Dr. Cant. My conscience will not suffer me. I know you to be both luxurious and worldly minded ; and you would squander upon the vanities of the world those treasures which ought to be better laid out.
Charl. Hum!-I believe I begin to conceive you
Dr. Cant. If you can think of any project to satisfy my conscience, I am tractable. You know there is a considerable moiety of your fortune which goes to my lady in case of our disagreement.
Charl. That's enough, şir. You think we should have a fellow-feeling in it. At what sum do you rate your concurrence to my inclinations ? that settled, I am willing to strike the bargain.
Dr. Cant. What do you think of half?
Dr. Cant. Why, you know you gain two thousand pounds; and really the severity of the times for the poor, and my own stinted pittance, which cramps my charities, will not suffer me to require less.
Charl. But how is my father to be brought into this?
Dr. Cant. Leave that to my management.
Churl. And what security do you expect for the money ?
Dr. Cant. Oh! Mr. Darnley is wealthy : when I deliver my consent in writing, he shall lay it down to me in bank bills.
Charl, Pretty good security !--On one proviso though.
Dr. Cant. Name it.
Charl. That you immediately tell my father, that you are willing to give up your interest to Mr. Darnley.
Dr. Cant. Hum !--stay-I agree to it; but in the meantime, let me warn you, child, not to expect to turn that, or what has now passed between us, to my confusion, by sinister construction, or evil representation to your father. I am satisfied of the piety of my own intentions, and care not what the wicked think of them ; but force me not to take advantage of Sir John's good opinion of me, in order to shield myself from the consequences of your malice.
Charl. Oh! I shall not stand in my own light: I know your conscience and your power too well, dear doctor!
Dr. Cant. Well, let your interest sway you. Thank heaven, I am actuated by more worthy motives.
Charl. No doubt on't.
[Exit, L. Churl. What this fellow's original was, I know not ; but, by his conscience and cunning, he would make an admirable jesuit.
Enter SERVANT, L. Servant. Madam, Mr. Darnley. Charl. Desire him to walk in. [Exit SERVANT, L.
Enter DARNLEY, L. Darn. (L.) To find you thus alone, madam, is an happiness I did not expect, from the temper of our last parting.
Charl. (c.) I should have been as well pleased now to have been thanked as reproached for my good-nature; but you will be in the right, I find.
Darn. (L. c.) Indeed, you take me wrong. I literally meant that I was afraid you would not so soon think I had deserved this favour.
Charl. Well, but were you not silly now!
Darn. Come, you shall not be serious: you can't be more agreeable.
Charl. Oh! but I am serious.
Charl. O Lord! but you have told me nothing of poor Seyward ?
Darn. Must you needs know that, before you answer
Charl. Lord ! you are never well till you have talked one out of countenance.
Darn. Come, I won't be too particular; you shall answer nothing Give me but your hand only.
Charl. Psha! I won't pull off my glove, not I.
Charl. Oh, my glove! my glove ! my glove! you are in a perfect storm! Lord ! if you make such a rout with one's hand only, what would you do if you had one's heart.
Darn. That's impossible to tell! But you were asking me of Seyward, madam ?
Charl. Oh, ay, that's true. Well, now you are very good again.--Come, tell me all the affair, and then you shall see-how I will like you.
Darn. There is not much to tell-only this: we me: the Attorney-General, to whom he has given a very sensible account of himself, and the doctor's proceedings.--The Attorney-General seems very clear in his opinion, that, as the doctor, at the time of the death of Seyward's mother, was intrusted with her whole affairs, the Court of Equity will oblige him to be accountable.
Charl If Seyward does not recover his fortune, you must absolutely get him a commission, and bring hiin into acquaintance.
Darn, Upon my word, I will.
Charl. And show him to all the women of taste; and I'll have you call him my pretty fellow, too.
Darn. I will, indeed !--but hear me
Durn. Not so well as you make your defence, Char lotte.
Charl. Lord! I had forgot, he is to teach me Greck, too.
Darn. Trifling tyrant ! how long, Charlotte, do you: think you can find new evasions for what I say unto you ?
Charl. Lord ! you are horrid silly : but since 'tis love that makes you such a dunce-poor Darnley! I forgive you.
The Colonel enters behind, R. V. E. Darn. That's kind, however.—But to complete my joy, be kinder yet-and
Charl. Oh! 1 can't! I can't !--Lord ! did you never ride a horse-match!
Darn. Was ever so wild a question !
Charl. Because, if you have, it runs in my head your galloped a mile beyond the winning-post, to make sure on't.
Darn. Now, I understand you. But since you will have me touch everything so very tenderly, Charlotte, how shall I find proper words to ask you the lover's last necessary question ?
Chari. Oh! there's a thousand points to he adjusted before that's answered.
Col. Lamb. [Appears between them.] Name them this moment: for, positively, this is the last time of asking.
Charl. (R. C.) Psha! who sent for you?
Col. Lamb. (c.) I only came to teach you to speak plain English, my dear.
Charl. Lord ! mind your own business; can't you?
Col. Lamb. So I will; for I will make you do more of your's in two minutes, than you would have done without me in a twelvemonth. Why, how now!-do you think the man's to dangle after your ridiculous airs for ever?
Charl. This is mighty pretty!
Col. Lamb. You'll say so on Thursday'se'nnight, (for let affairs take what turn they will in the family) that's positively your wedding-day.-[CHARL. atlempts to go.] Nay, you sha'nt stir.
Charl. Was ever such assurance !.
Darn. (L. c.) Upon my life, madam, I'm out of couns tenance ! I don't know how to behave myself.
Charl. No, no; let him go on only--this is beyond whatever was known, sure!
Col. Lamb. Ha ! ha! if I was to leave you to yourselves, what a couple of pretty out-of-countenanced figures you would make! humming and hawing upon the vulgar points of jointure and pin-money.-Come, come, I know what's proper on both sides ; you shall leave it to me.
Darn. (c.) I had rather Charlotte would name her own terms to me.
Col. Lamb. (L. c.) Have you a mind to any thing particular, madain ?
Charl. Why, sure ! what do you think I'm only tu be filled out as you please, and sweetened and sipped up like a dish of tea ?
Col. Lamb. Why, pray, madam, when your tea's ready, what have you to do but to drink it ?—but you, I suppose, expect a lover's heart, like your lamp, should be always flaming at your elbow ; and when it is ready to go out, you indolently supply it with the spirit of contradiction.
Charl. And so you suppose that your assurance has made an end of this matter?
Col. Lamb. Not till you have given him your hand
Charl. That then would complete it.