ACT II. SCENE Clarinda's apartment. Enter Clarinda and Sylvia. A ha! poor Sylvia! Clar. H Syl. Nay, pr'ythee, don't laugh at me. There's no accounting for inclination: For if there were, you know, why should it be a greater folly in me, to fall in love with a man I never faw but once in my life, than it is in you to refift an honeft gentleman, whose fidelity has deferv'd your heart an hundred times Over. Clar. Ah! but an utter ftranger, coufin, and one that, for aught you know, may be no gentleman. Syl. That's impoffible; his converfation could not be counterfeit. An elevated wit, and good breeding, have a natural luftre that's inimitable. Befide, he fav'd my life at the hazard of his town; fo that part of what I gave him, is but gratitude. Clar. Well! you are the first woman that ever took fire in the middle of the Thames, fure.' But fuppofe now he is marry'd, and has three or four children! Syl. Pha! prythee don't teaze me with fo many illnatur'd objections: I tell you he is not marry'd, I am fure he is not; for I never faw a face look more in humour in my life.-Befide, he told me himself, he was a country gentleman, juft come to town upon business: And I'm refolv'd to believe him. Clar. Well! well! I'll fuppofe you both as fit for one another as a couple of tallies. But, ftill, my dear, you know there's a furly old father's command against you; he is in articles to marry you to another: And tho' I know love is a notable contriver, I can't fee how you'll get over that difficulty. Syl. 'Tis a terrible one, I own; but with a little of your affiftance, dear Clarinda, I am still in hopes to bring it to an even wager, I prove as wife as my father. Clar. Nay, you may be fure of me: You may fee by the management of my own amours, I have fo natural a compaffion for difobedience, I fha'nt be able to refufe you you any thing in distress.—There's my hand ;-tell me how I can ferve you? Syl. Why thus:Because I wou'd not wholly difcover myself to him at once, I have fent him a note to vifit me here, as if these lodgings were my own. Clar. Hither! to my lodgings! 'Twas well I fent Col. Standfaft word I should not be at home. [Afide. Syl. I hope you'll pardon my freedom, fince one end of my taking it too, was to have your opinion of him before I engage any farther. Clar. O it needs no apology; any thing of mine is at your service.--I am only afraid, my troublesome lover Mr. Clerimont fhou'd happen to fee him, who is of late fo impertinently jealous of a rival, though from what cause I know not-not but I lye too. [Afide. I fay, fhou'd he see him, your country gentleman wou'd be in danger, I can tell you. Syl. Of there's no fear of that; for I have order'd him to be brought in the back way: When I have talk'd with him a little alone, I'll find an occafion to leave him with you; and then we'll compare our opinions of him. Enter fervant to Clarinda. Serv. Madam, my Lady Sadlife. [Exit. Clar. Don't be uneafy; she shan't difturb you: I'll take care of her. Enter Lady Sadlife. Lady Sad. O, my dears, you have loft the fweetest morning fure, that ever peep'd out of the firmament. The park never was in fuch perfection. Clar. 'Tis always fo when your ladyship's there. Lady Sad. 'Tis never 10 without my dear Clarinda. Syl. How civilly we women hate one another! [Afide. Was there a good deal o company, madam ? : Lady Sad. Abundance! and the best I have seen this feafon for 'twas between twelve and one, the very hour you know when the mob are violently hungry. O the air was fo infpiring! fo amorous! And, to complete the pleafure, I was attack'd in converfation by the most charming, modeft, agreeably infinuating young fellow, fure, that ever woman play'd the fool with. Clar Clar. Who was it? Lady Sad. Nay, Heav'n knows; his face is as entirely new as his converfation. What wretches our young fellows are to him? Syl. What fort of a perfon? Lady Sad. Tall, ftreight, well-limb'd, walk'd firm; and a look as chearful as a May-day morning. Syl. The picture's very like: Pray Heav'n it is not my gentleman's. [Afide. [Afide. Syl. How came you to part with him fo foon? Lady Sad. O name it not! that eternal damper of all pleasure, my husband, Sir Solomon, came into the Mall in the very crisis of our converfation-I saw him at a diftance, and complain'd that the air grew tainted, that I was fick o'th' fudden, and left him in fuch abruptnefs and confufion, as if he had been himself my hufband. Clar. I wish this don't prove my colonel. Clar. A melancholy disappointment, indeed! Syl. Defire him to walk in-coufin, you'll be at hand. Clar. In the next room-come, madam, Sylvia has a little bufinefs. I'll fhew you fome of the sweetest, prettieft figur'd china. Lady Sad. My dear, I wait on you. [Exeunt Lady Sad. and Clar. Enter Atall, as Mr. Freeman. Syl. You find, fir, I have kept my word in feeing you; 'tis all you yet have afked of me; and when I know 'tis in my power to be more obliging, there's nothing you can command in honour I fhall refuse you. At. This generous offer, madam, is so high an obligation, that it were almost mean in me to ask a farther favour. But 'tis a lover's merit to be a mifer in his wishes, and grafp at all occafions to enrich 'em.-I own I feel your charms too fenfibly prevail, but dare not give a loose to my ambitious thoughts, 'till I have pafs'd one dreadful doubt that fhakes 'em. Syl. If 'tis in power to clear it, ask me freely. At. I tremble at the trial; and yet methinks my fears are vain: But yet to kill or cure 'em once for ever, be just and tell me; are you married ? If Syl. If that can make you easy, no. At. 'Tis eafe indeed-nor are you promis'd, nor your heart engag'd? Syl. That's hard to tell you: But to be just, I own my father has engag'd my person to one I never saw, and my heart I fear's inclining to one he never saw. At. O yet be merciful, and ease my doubt; tell me the happy man that has deserv'd so exquifite a bleffing. Syl."That, fir, requires fome pause: First tell me why your're fo inquifitive, without letting me know the condition of your own heart. / At. In every circumftance my heart's the fame with yours; 'tis promis'd to one I never faw, by a commanding father, who, by my firm hopes of happiness, I am refolv'd to difobey, unless your cruelty prevents it. Syl. But my difobedience would beggar me. At. Banish that fear. I'm heir to a fortune will fupport you like yourself-May I not know your family? Syl. Yet you must not. At. Why that nicety? Is not it in my power to enquire whofe houfe this is when I am gone? Syl. And be never the wifer: Thefe lodgings are a friend's, and are only borrowed on this occafion : But to fave you the trouble of any further needleís queftions, I will make you one propofal. I have a young lady here within, who is the only confident of my engagements to you: On her opinion I rely; nor can you take it ill, if I make no farther fteps without it: 'Twould be miferable indeed fhou'd we both meet beggars. I own your actions and appearance merit all you can defire; let her be as well fatisfy'd of your pretenfions and condition, and you fhall find it fha'n't be a little fortune fhall make me ungrateful. At. So generous an offer exceeds my hopes. Defire my coufin Clarinda to walk in. [Enter fervant. At. Ha! Clarinda! if it fhould be my Clarinda now, I'm in a fweet condition-by all that's terrible the very fhe; this was finely contriv'd of fortune.. Enter Clarinda. Clar. Defend me! Col. Standfaft! fhe has certainly difcover'd my affairs with him, and has a mind to infult me me by an affected refignation of her pretenfions to him ᅮ I'll difappoint her, I won't know him. Syl. Coufin, pray, come forward; this is the gentle man I am fo much oblig'd to-fir, this lady is a relation of mine, and the perfon we are speaking of. At. I fhall be proud to be better known among any of your friends. [Salutes her. Clar. Soh! he takes the hint, I fee, and feems not to know me neither: I know not what to think. I am confounded! I hate both him and her. How unconcern'd he looks! confufion! he addreffes her before my face. [Afide. Lady Sadlife peeping in. Lady Sad. What do I fee? The pleafant young fellow that talk'd with me in the park just now! This is the luckieft accident! I muft know a little more of him. [Retires. Syl. Coufin, and Mr. Freeman-I think I need not make any apology-you both know the occafion of my leaving you together in a quarter of an hour I'll wait on you again. [Exit Syl. At. So, I'm in a hopeful way now, faith; but buff's the word: I'll ftand it. Clar. Mr. Freeman! So, my gentleman has chang'd his name too! How harmless he looks-I have my fenfes fure, and yet the demureness of that face looks as if he had a mind to perfuade me out of 'em. I could find in my heart to humour his affurance, and fee how far he'll carry it-Won't you please to fit, fir? [They fit. At. What the devil can this mean?-Sure he has a mind to counterface me, and not know me too-With all my heart: If her ladyship won't know me, I'm fure 'tis not my business at this time to know her. [Afide. Clar. Certainly that face is a cannon proof. Afide. At. Now for a formal fpeech, as if I had never feen her in my life before. [Afide.] Madam-a hem! Madam,-I-a hem! Clar. Curfe of that fteady face. [Afide. At. I fay, madam, fince I am an utter ftranger to you I am afraid it will be very difficult for me to offer you more arguments than one to do me a friendship with your coufin; but if you are, as fhe feems to own you her real friend, I prefume you can't give her a better proof |