ship with Mr Bevil, as to my only daughter, | into the matter I came about; but 'tis the same whom I was this day disposing of. thing as if we had talked ever so distinctly-he never shall have a daughter of mine. Ind. You make me hope, sir, I have mistaken you: I am composed again: be free, say onwhat I am afraid to hear. Aside. Mr Sea. I feared, indeed, an unwarranted passion here, but I did not think it was an abuse of so worthy an object, so accomplished a lady, as your sense and mien bespeak-but the youth of our age care not what merit and virtue they bring to shame, so they gratify Ind. If you say this from what you think of me, you wroug yourself and him. Let not me, miserable though I may be, do injury to my benefactor: no, sir, my treatment ought rather to reconcile you to his virtues. If to bestow without a prospect of return-if to delight in supporting what might, perhaps, be thought an object of desire, with no other view than to be her guard against those who would not be so disinterested -if these actions, sir, can in a parent's eye commend him to a daughter, give yours, sir; give her to my honest, generous Bevil! What have I to do but sigh and weep, to rave, run wild, a lu Ind. Sir, you are going into very great errors -but as you are pleased to say you see something in me that has changed at least the colour of your suspicions, so has your appearance altered mine, and made me earnestly attentive to what has any way concerned you, to inquire intonatic in chains, or, hid in darkness, mutter in my affairs and character. distracted starts, and broken accents, my strange, strange story! Mr Sea. How sensibly-with what an air she talks! Ind. Good sir, be seated-and tell me tenderly-keep all your suspicions concerning me alive, that you may in a proper and prepared way-acquaint me why the care of your daughter obliges a person of your seeming worth and fortune to be thus inquisitive about a wretched, helpless, friendless-[Weeping.] But I beg your pardon though I am an orphan, your child is not, and your concern for her, it seems, has brought you hither-I'll be composed-pray, go on, sir. Mr Sea. How could Mr Bevil be such a monster to injure such a woman? Ind. No, sir, you wrong him; he has not injured me-my support is from his bounty. Mr Sea. Bounty! when gluttons give high prices for delicacies, they are prodigious bountiful! Ind. Still, still you will persist in that errorbut my own fears tell me all. You are the gentleman, I suppose, for whose happy daughter he is designed a husband by his good father, and he has, perhaps, consented to the overture, and is to be, perhaps, this night a bridegroom. Mr Sea. I own he was intended such; but, madam, on your account, I am determined to defer my daughter's marriage till I am satisfied, from your own mouth, of what nature are the obligations you are under to him. Ind. His actions, sir, his eyes, have only made me think he designed to make me the partner of his heart. The goodness and gentleness of his demeanour made me misinterpret all; 'twas my own hope, my own passion, that deluded me;he never made one amorous advance to me; his large heart and bestowing hand have only helped the miserable: nor know I why, but from his mere delight in virtue, that I have been his care, the object on which to indulge and please himself with pouring favours. Mr Sea. Madam, I know not why it is, but I, as well as you, am, methinks, afraid of entering Mr Sea. Take comfort, madam. Ind. All my comfort must be to expostulate in madness, to relieve with frenzy my despair, and, shrieking, to demand of Fate why, why was I born to such variety of sorrows? Mr Sea. If I have been the least occasionInd. No; 'twas Heaven's high will I should be. such; to be plundered in my cradle, tossed on the seas, and even there, an infant captive, to lose my mother, hear but of my father--to be adopted, lose my adopter, then plunged again in worse calamities! Mr Sea. An infant captive! Ind. Yet, then, to find the most charming of mankind once more to set me free from what I thought the last distress, to load me with his services, his bounties, and his favours, to support my very life in a way that stole, at the same time, my very soul itself from me. Mr Sea. And has young Bevil been this worthy mau? Ind. Yet then, again, this very man to take another, without leaving me the right, the pretence, of easing my fond heart with tears? for oh! I can't reproach him, though the same hand, that raised me to this height, now throws me down the precipice. Mr Sea. Dear lady! oh, yet one moment's patience; my heart grows full with your affliction! but yet there's something in your story that promises relief when you least hope it. Ind. My portion here is bitterness and sor row. Mr Sea. Do not think so. Pray, answer me; does Bevil know your name and family? Ind. Alas, too well! Oh! could I be any other thing than what I ain I'll tear away all traces of iny former self, my little ornaments, the remains of my first state, the hints of what I ought to have been [In her disorder, she throws away her bracelet, which SEALAND takes up, and looks earnestly at.] Mr Sea. Ha! what's this? my eyes are not all his obligations, the pride, the joy of his allideceived! it is, it is the same! the very bracelet ance, sir, would warm your heart, as he has conwhich I bequeathed my wife at our last mourn-quered mine. ful parting! Ind. What said you, sir? your wife! Whither does my fancy carry me? what means this new felt motion at my heart? And yet again my fortune but deludes me; for if I err not, sir, your name is Sealand; but my lost father's name Mr Sea. My sister! Isa. But here's a claim more tender yet-your Indiana, sir, your long-lost daughter. Mr Sea. Oh, my child, my child! Ind. All-gracious Heaven! is it possible! do I embrace my father! Mr Sea. And do I hold thee!--These passions are too strong for utterance.-Rise, rise, my child, and give my tears their way-Oh, my sister! [Embracing her. Isa. Now, dearest niece! my groundless fears, my painful cares, no more shall vex thee: if Í have wronged thy noble lover with too hard suspicions, my just concern for thee, I hope, will plead my pardon. Mr Sea. Oh! make him then the full amends, and be yourself the messenger of joy: fly this instant-tell him all these wondrous turns of Providence in his favour; tell him I have now a daughter to bestow, which he no longer will decline; that this day he still shall be a bridegroom; nor shall a fortune, the merit which his father seeks, be wanting. Tell him the reward of all his virtues waits on his acceptance. [Exit IsaBELLA.] My dearest Indiana'! [Turns and embraces her. Ind. Have I then at last a father's sanction on my love? his bounteous hand to give, and make my heart a present worthy of Bevil's generosity? Mr Sea. Oh, my child! how are our sorrows past o'erpaid by such a meeting! Though I have lost so many years of soft paternal dalliance with thee, yet, in one day to find thee thus, and thus bestow thee, in such perfect happiness, is ample, ample reparation! and yet, again, the merit of thy lover Ind. Oh, had I spirits left to tell you of his actions! how strongly filial duty has suppressed his love, and how concealment still has doubled VOL. II. Mr Sea. How laudable is love when born of virtue! I burn to embrace him. Ind. See, sir, my aunt already has succeeded, and brought him to your wishes. Enter ISABELLA with SIR JOHN BEVIL, BEVIL jun. MRS SEALAND, CIMBERTON, MYRTLE, and LUCINDA. Sir J. Beo. [Entering.] Where, where's this scene of wonder!--Mr Scaland, I congratulate, on this occasion, our mutual happiness--Your good sister, sir, has, with the story of your daughter's fortune, filled us with surprise and joy. Now all exceptions are removed; my son has now avowed his love, and turned all former jealousies and doubts to approbation, and I am told your goodness has consented to reward him. Mr Sea. If, sir, a fortune, equal to his father's hopes, can make this object worthy his accept ance. Bev. I hear your mention, sir, of fortune, with pleasure only, as it may prove the means to reconcile the best of fathers to my love; let him be provident, but let me be happy.-My ever destined, my acknowledged wife! [Embracing INDIANA. Ind. Wife!-oh! my ever-loved, my lord, my master! Sir J. Bev. I congratulate myself, as well as you, that I have a son who could, under such disadvantages, discover your great merit. Mr Sea. Oh, sir John, how vain, how weak is human prudence! what care, what foresight, what imagination could contrive such blest events to make our children happy, as Providence, in one short hour, has laid before us? Cim. [To MRS SEALAND.] I am afraid, madam, Mr Sealand is a little too busy for our affair; if you please we'll take another opportunity. Mrs Sea. Let us have patience, sir. [During this, BEV. jun. presents LUCINDA Mr Sea. But here, here's our general benefactor. Excellent young man! that could be at once a lover to her beauty, and a parent to her virtue! Bev. jun. If you think that an obligation, sir, give me leave to overpay myself in the only instance that can now add to my felicity, by begging you to bestow this lady on Mr Myrtle. Mr Sea. She is his without reserve; I beg he may be sent for. Mr Cimberton, notwithstanding you never had my consent, yet there is, since I saw you, another objection to your marriage with my daughter. Cim. I hope, sir, your lady has concealed nothing from me? 4 M Mr Sea. Troth, sir, nothing but what was concealed from myself; another daughter, who has an undoubted title to half my estate. Cim. How, Mr Sealand! why then, if half Mrs Lucinda's fortune is gone, you can't say that any of my estate is settled upon her; I was in treaty for the whole: but if that's not to be come at, to be sure there can be no bargain. Sir-I have nothing to do but to take my leave of your good lady my cousin, and beg pardon for the trouble I have given this old gentleman. Myr. That you have, Mr Cimberton, with all my heart. [Discovers himself. Omnes. Mr Myrtle ! Myr. And I beg pardon of the whole company, that I assumed the person of sir Geoffry only to be present at the danger of this lady's being disposed of, and, in her utmost exigence, to assert my right to her, which, if her parents will ratify, as they once favoured my pretensions, no abatement of fortune shall lessen her value to me. Luc. Generous man! Mr Sea. If, sir, you can overlook the injury of being in treaty with one who has as meanly left her, as you have generously asserted your right in her, she is yours. Luc. Mr Myrtle, though you have ever had my heart, yet now I find I love you more, because I deserve you less. Mrs Sea. Well, however, I'm glad the girl's disposed of any way. [Aside. Bev. jun. Myrtle! no longer rivals now, but brothers. Myr. Dear Bevil! you are born to triumph over me; but now our competition ceases: I rejoice in the pre-eminence of your virtue, and your alliance adds charms to Lucinda. Sir J. Bev. Now, ladies and gentlemen, you have set the world a fair example; your happiness is owing to your constancy and merit, and the several difficulties you have struggled with evidently shew Whate'er the generous mind itself denies, [Exeunt THE PROVOKED HUSBAND; OR, A JOURNEY TO LONDON. BY VANBRUGH & CIBBER. DRAMATIS PERSONE. MEN. LORD TOWNLY, of a regular life. MR MANLY, an admirer of LADY GRACE, man. SQUIRE RICHARD, his son, a mere whelp. COUNT BASSET, a gamester. WOMEN. LADY TOWNLY, immoderate in her pursuit of pleasures. LADY GRACE, sister to LORD TOWNLY, of exem plary virtue. LADY WRONGHEAD, wife to SIR FRANCIS, incli ned to be a fine lady. JOHN MOODY, servant to SIR FRANCIS, an ho- MISS JENNY, her daughter, pert and forward. nest clown. MRS MOTHERLY, one that lets lodgings. MYRTILLA, her niece, seduced by the count. MRS TRUSTY, LADY TOWNLY'S woman. Scene-London. SCENE I-LORD TOWNLY's apartment. LORD TOWNLY, solus. ACT I WHY did I marry?—Was it not evident, my plain, rational scheme of life was impracticable, with a woman of so different a way of thinking? ~Is there one article of it that she has not broke in upon?—Yes-let me do her justice-her reputation -That I have no reason to believe is in question-But, then, how long her profligate course of pleasures may make her able to keep it-is a shocking question! and her presumption while she keeps it-insupportable! for, on the pride of that single virtue, she seems to lay it down as a fundamental point, that the free indulgence of every other vice this fertile town affords, is the birth-right prerogative of a woman of qualityAmazing! that a creature, so warm in the pursuit of her pleasures, should never cast one thought towards her happinessThus, while she admits of no lover, she thinks it a greater merit still, in her chastity, not to care for her husband; and, while she herself is solacing in one continual round of cards and good company, he, poor wretch! is left at large, to take care of his own contentment-Tis time, indeed, some care were taken; and speedily there shall be-Yet, let me not be rash-Perhaps this disappointment of my heart may make me too impatient; and some tempers, when reproached, grow more untractable-Here she comesLet me be calm awhile. Enter LADY TOWNLY. Going out so soon after dinner, madam? Lady Town. Lard, my lord! what can I possibly do at home? Lord Town. What does my sister, Lady Grace, do at home? Lady Town. Why, that is to me amazing! Have you ever any pleasure at home? Lord Town. How, madam! is any woman under less restraint after marriage than before it? Lady Town. Oh, my lord, my lord! they are Lord Town.. It might be in your power, madam, I confess, to make it a little more comfort-different creatures! Wives have infinite liberties able to me. in life, that would be terrible in an unmarried woman to take. Lady Town. Comfortable! And so, my good lord, you would really have a woman of my rank and spirit stay at home to comfort her husband! Lord! what notions of life some men have! Lord Town. Don't you think, madam, some ladies' notions are full as extravagant? Lady Town. Yes, my lord; when the tame doves live cooped within the pen of your precepts, I do think them prodigious indeed. Lord Town. And when they fly wild about this town, madam, pray, what must the world think of them, then? Lady Town. Oh! this world is not so ill-bred as to quarrel with any woman for liking it! Lord Town. Nor am I, madam, a husband so well-bred, as to bear my wife's being so fond of it in short, the life you lead, madam Lady Town. Is to me the pleasantest life in the world. Lord Town. I should not dispute your taste, madam, if a woman had a right to please nobody but herself. Lady Town. Why! whom would you have her please? Lord Town. Sometimes her husband. Lady Town. And don't you think a husband under the same obligation? Lord Town. Certainly. Lady Town. Why, then, we are agreed, my lord-For, if I never go abroad till I am weary of being at home—which you know is the case is it not equally reasonable, not to come home till one is weary of being abroad? Lord. Town. If this be your rule of life, madam, 'tis time to ask you one serious question. Lady Town. Don't let it be long a coming, then for I am in haste. Lord Town. Madam, when I am serious, I expect a serious answer. Lady Town. Before I know the question? Lord Town. Psha!-Have I power, madam, to make you serious by entreaty? Lady Town. You have. Lord Town. Name one. Lady Town. Fifty, if you please—To begin, then-in the morning-A married woman may have men at her toilet; invite them to dinner; appoint them a party in the stage-box at the play; engross the conversation there; call them by their christian names; talk louder than the players; from thence jaunt into the city; take a frolicsome supper at an India-House; perhaps, in her gaieté de cœur toast a pretty fellow; then clatter again to this end of the town; break, with the morning, into an assembly; crowd to the hazard-table; throw a familiar levant upon some sharp, lurching man of quality, and, if he demands his money, turn it off with a loud laugh, and cry—you'll owe it him, to vex him, ha, Lord Town. Prodigious! ha! [Aside. Lady Town. These, now, my lord, are some few of the many modish amusements that distinguish the privilege of a wife, from that of a single woman. Lord Town. Death, madam! what law has made these liberties less scandalous in a wife, than in an unmarried woman? Lady Town. Why the strongest law in the world, custom-custom, time out of mind, my lord. Lord Town. Custom, madam, is the law of fools; but it shall never govern me. Lady Town. Nay, then, my lord, 'tis time for me to observe the laws of prudence. Lord Town. I wish I could see an instance of it. Lady Town. You shall have one this moment, my tord; for I think, when a man begins to lose his temper at home, if a woman has any prudence, why-she'll go abroad 'till he comes to himself again. [Going Lord Town. Hold, madam-I am amazed you are not more uneasy at the life you lead. You don't want sense, and yet seem void of all |