SCENE 1.-An apartment at BELVILLE'S. ACT I. Enter CAPTAIN SAVAGE, and MISS WALSING HAM. Capt. Sav. Ha, ha, ha! Well, Miss Walsingham, this fury is going; what a noble peal she has rung in Belville's ears ! Miss Wal. Did she see you, captain Savage? Capt Sav. No, I took care of that; for though she is not married to my father, she has ten times the influence of a wife, and might injure me not a little with him, if I did not support her side of the question. Miss Wal. It was a pleasant conceit of Mr Belville, to insinuate the poor woman was disordered in her senses !- Capt Sav. And, did you observe how the termagant's violence of temper supported the probability of the charge? Miss Wal. Yes; she became almost frantic, in reality, when she found herself treated like a mad-woman, Capt. Sav. Belville's affected surprise, too, was admirable! Miss Wal. Yes; the hypocritical composure of his countenance, and his counterfeit pity for the poor woman, were intolerable. Capt. Sav. While that amiable creature, his wife, implicitly believed every syllable he said→ Miss Wal. And felt nothing but pity for the ccuser, instead of paying the least regard to the ccusation. But pray, is it really under a preence of getting the girl upon the stage, that Belille has taken away Mrs Tempest's niece from he people she boarded with? Capt. Sav. It is. Belville, ever on the look ut for fresh objects, met her in those primitive egions of purity, the Green-Boxes; where, discovering that she was passionately desirous of becoming an actress, he improved his acquaintance with her, in the fictitious character of an Irish manager, and she eloped last night, to be, as she imagines, the heroine of a Dublin theatre. Miss Wal. So, then, as he has kept his real name artfully concealed, Mrs Tempest can, at most, but suspect him of Miss Leeson's seduction. Capt. Sav. Of no more; and this, only, from the description of the people who saw him in company with her at the play. But I wish the affair may not have a serious conclusion; for she has a brother, a very spirited young fellow, who is a counsel in the Temple, and who will certainly call Belville to an account the moment he hears of it. Miss Wal. And what will become of the poor creature after he has deserted her? Capt. Sav. You know that Belville is generous to profusion, and has a thousand good qualities to counterbalance this single fault of gallantry, which contaminates his character. Miss Wal. You inen! you men!You are such wretches, that there's no having a moment's satisfaction with you! and, what's still more provoking, there's no having a moment's satisfaction without you! Capt. Sav. Nay, don't think us all alike. Miss Wal. I'll endeavour to deceive myself; for, it is but a poor argument of your sincerity, to be the confidant of another's falsehood. Capt. Sav. Nay, no more of this, my love; no people live happier than Belville and his wife; nor is there a man in England, notwithstanding all his levity, who considers his wife with a warmer degree of affection: if you have a friendship, therefore, for her, let her continue in an error, so necessary to her repose, and give no hint whatever of his gallantries to any body. Miss Wal. If I had no pleasure in obliging you, I have too much regard for Mrs Belville, not to follow your advice; but you need not enjoin me so strongly on the subject, when you know I can keep a secret. and sent it in a course of circulation to my father. Miss Wal. The peculiarity of your father's temper, joined to my want of fortune, made it necessary for me to keep our engagements inviolably secret. There is no merit, therefore, either in my prudence, or in my labouring assiduously to cultivate the good opinion of the general, since both were so necessary to my own happiness. Don't despise me for this acknowledgment now. Capt. Sav. Bewitching softness! But your goodness, I flatter myself, will be speedily rewarded; you are now such a favourite with him, that he is eternally talking of you; and I really fancy he means to propose you to me himself; for, last night, in a few minutes after he had declared you would make the best wife in the world, he seriously asked me, if I had any aversion to matrimony! Miss Wal. Why, that was a very great concession, indeed, as he seldom stoops to consult any body's inclinations. Capt. Sav. So it was, I assure you; for, in the army, being used to nothing but command and obedience, he removes the discipline of the parade into his family, and no more expects his orders should be disputed, in matters of a domestic nature, than if they were delivered at the head of his regiment. Miss Wal. And yet, Mrs Tempest, who, you say, is as much a storm in her nature as her name, is disputing them eternally. Enter MR and MRS BELVILLE. Bel. Well, Miss Walsingham, have not we had a pretty morning's visitor? Miss Wal. Really, I think so; and I have been asking captain Savage how long the lady has been disordered in her senses? Bel. Why will they let the poor woman abroad, without some body to take care of her? Capt. Sav. O, she has her lucid intervals. Miss Wal. I declare I shall be as angry with you as I am with Belville. [Aside to the captain. Mrs Bel. You can't think how sensibly she spoke at first. Bel. I should have had no conception of her madness, if she had not brought so preposterous a charge against me. upon you. Enter a Servant. Ser. Lady Rachel Mildew, madam, sends her compliments, and, if you are not particularly enCapt Sav. You are all goodness: and the pru-gaged, will do herself the pleasure of waiting dence, with which you have concealed our private engagements, has eternally obliged me. Had you trusted the secret even to Mrs Belville, it would not have been safe. She would have told her husband; and he is such a rattlescull, that, notwithstanding all his regard for me, he would have mentioned it in some moment of levity, Mrs Bel. Our compliments, and we shall be glad to see her ladyship. [Exit Servant. Bel. I wonder if lady Rachel knows that Torrington came to town last night from Bath! Mrs Bel. I hope he has found benefit by the waters; for he is one of the best creatures et isting; he's a downright parson Adams, in goodnature and simplicity. Miss Wal. Lady Rachel will be quite happy at his return; and, it would be a laughable affair, if a match could be brought about between the old maid and the old batchelor. Capt. Sav. Mr Torrington is too much taken up at Westminster-Hall, to think of paying his devoirs to the ladies, and too plain a speaker, I fancy, to be agreeable to lady Rachel. Bel. You mistake the matter widely; she is deeply smitten with him; but honest Torrington is utterly unconscious of his conquest, and modestly thinks, that he has not a single attraction for any woman in the universe. Mrs Bel. Yet, my poor aunt speaks sufficiently plain, in all conscience, to give him a different opinion of himself. Miss Wal. Yes; and puts her charms into such repair, whenever she expects to meet him, that her cheeks look, for all the world, like a rasberry ice upon a ground of custard. Capt. Sav. I thought Apollo was the only god of lady Rachel's idolatry; and that, in her passion for poetry, she had taken leave of all the less elevated affections. Bel. O, you mistake again! the poets are eternally in love, and can by no means be calculated to describe the imaginary passions, without being very susceptible of the real ones. Enter a Servant. Ser. The man, madam, from Tavistock-street, has brought home the dresses for the masquerade, and desires to know, if there are any commands for him. Lee. What! you have been trying those pistols? Con. By my soul, I have been firing them this half hour, without once being able to make them go off. Lee. They are plaguy dirty. Con. Iu troth, so they are; I strove to brighten them up a little, but some misfortune attends every thing I do, for the more I clane them, the dirtier they are, honey. Lee. You have had some of your usual daily visitors for money, I suppose ? Con. You may say that! and three or four of them are now hanging about the door, that I wish handsomely hanged any where else for bodering us. Lee. No joking, Connolly! my present situation is a very disagreeable one. Con. Faith, and so it is; but who makes it disagreeable? your aunt Tempest would let you have as much money as you please, but you won't condescend to be acquainted with her, though people in this country can be very intimate friends without seeing one another's faces for seven years. Lee. Do you think me base enough to receive a favour from a woman, who has disgraced her family, and stoops to be a kept mistress? you see, my sister is already ruined by a connexion with her. Con. Ah, sir, a good guinea is not the worse for coming through a bad hand! if it was, what would become of us lawyers? and, by my soul, many a high head in London would, at this minute, be very low, if they had not received favours even from much worse people than kept mistresses. Mrs Bel. O bid him stay till we see the dresses! [Exit Servant. Lee. Others, Connolly, may prostitute their Miss Wal. They are only dominos. honour, as they please; mine is my chief possesBel. I am glad of that; for characters are assion, and I must take particular care of it. difficult to be supported at the masquerade, as they are in real life. The last time I was at the Pantheon, a vestal virgin invited me to sup with her, and swore that her pocket had been picked by a justice of peace. Miss Wal. Nay, that was not so bad as the Hamlet's ghost, that boxed with Henry the Eighth, and afterwards danced a hornpipe to the tune of Nancy Dawson! Ha, ha, ha!-We follow you, Mrs Belville. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-Changes to LEESON's chambers, in the temple. Enter LEESON. Lee. Where is this clerk of mine? Connolly! Con. [Behind.] Here, sir! Lee. Have you copied the marriage-settlement, as I corrected it? Enter CONNOLLY, with pistols. Con. Ay, honey, an hour ago. Con. Honour, to be sure, is a very fine thing, sir; but I don't see how it is to be taken care of without a little money; your honour, to my knowledge, has not been in your own possession these two years; and the devil a crumb can you honestly swear by, till you get it out of the hands of your creditors. Lee. I have given you a licence to talk, Connolly, because I know you are faithful: but I have not given you a liberty to sport with my misfortunes. Con. You know I'd die to serve you, sir! but, of what use is your giving me leave to spake, if you oblige me to hould my tongue? 'tis out of pure love and affection that I put you in mind of your misfortunes. Lee. Well, Connolly, a few days will, in all probability, enable me to redeem my honour, and to reward your fidelity; the lovely Emily, you know, has half consented to embrace the first opportunity of flying with me to Scotland, and the paltry trifles I owe, will not be missed in her fortune. Con. But, dear sir, consider you are going to fight a duel this very evening, and if you should be kilt, I fancy you will find it a little difficult to run away afterwards with the lovely Emily! Lee. If I fail, there will be an end to my misfortunes. Con. But, surely, it will not be quite genteel, to go out of the world without paying your debts. Lee. But how shall I stay in the world, Connolly, without punishing Belville for ruining my sister? expose his friend to difficulties; we should not seek for redress, if we are not equal to the task of fighting our own battles; and I choose you particularly to carry my letter, because you may be supposed ignorant of the contents, and thought to be acting only in the ordinary course of your business. Con. Say no more about it, honey; I will be back with you presently. [Going, returns.] I put the twenty guineas in your pocket, before you were up, sir; and I don't believe you would look for such a thing there, if I was not to tell you of [Exit. Con. O, the devil fly away with this honour! an ounce of common sense is worth a whole ship-it. load of it, if we must prefer a bullet or a halter to a fine young lady and a great fortune! Lee. We'll talk no more on the subject at present. Take this letter to Mr Belville; deliver it into his own hand, be sure; and bring me an answer: make haste, for I shall not stir out till you come back. Con. By my soul, I wish you may be able to stir out then!-O, but that's true! Lee. What's the matter? Con. Why, sir, the gentleman I last lived clerk with, died lately, and left me a legacy of twenty guineas Lee. What! Is Mr Stanley dead? Con. Faith, his friends have behaved very unkindly if he is not, for they have buried him these six weeks! Lee. And what then? Con. Why, sir, I received my little legacy this morning, and if you would be so good as to keep it for me, I would be much obliged to you.. Lee. Connolly, I understand you, but I am already shamefully in your debt; you have had no money from me this age Con. O, sir, that does not signify; if you are not kilt in this damned duel, you'll be able enough to pay me if you are, I shan't want it. Lee. Why so, my poor fellow? Con. Because, though I am but your clerk, and though I think fighting the most foolish thing upon earth, I'm as much a gentleman as yourself, and have as much right to commit a murder in the way of duelling. Lee. And what then? You have no quarrel with Mr Belville? Con. I shall have a damned quarrel with him though, if you are kilt: your death shall be revenged, depend upon it; so, let that content you. Lee. My dear Connolly, I hope I shan't want such a proof of your affection. How he distres ses me! Con. You will want a second, I suppose, in this affair? I stood second to my own brother in the Fifteen Acres; and, though that has made me detest the very thought of duelling ever since, yet, if you want a friend, I'll attend you to the field of death with a great deal of satisfaction. Lee. I thank you, Connolly; but I think it extremely wrong in any man, who has a quarrel, to VOL. II. | Lee. This faithful, noble hearted creature!but let me fly from thought; the business I have to execute will not bear the test of reflection. • Re-enter CONNOLLY. [Exit. Con. As this is a challenge, I should not go without a sword; come down, little tickle-pitcher. [Takes a sword.] Some people may think me, very conceited now; but as the dirtiest blacklegs in town can wear one without being stared at, I don't think it can suffer any disgrace by the side of an honest man. [Exit. SCENE III-Changes to an apartment at Enter MRS Belville. Mrs Bel. How strangely this affair of Mrs Tempest hangs upon my spirits, though I have every reason, from the tenderness, the politeness, and the generosity of Mrs Belville, as well as from the woman's behaviour, to believe the whole charge the result of a disturbed imagination. Yet, suppose it should be actually true:— Heigho! well, suppose it should; I would endeavour-I think I would endeavour to keep my temper a frowning face never recovered a heart, that was not to be fixed with a smiling one: but women, in general, forget this grand article of the matrimonial creed entirely; the dignity of insulted virtue obliges them to play the fool, whenever their Corydons play the libertine; and poh! they must pull down the house about the traitor's ears, though they are themselves to be crushed in pieces by the ruins. Lady Rach. Yes, I have drawn him, as he is, an honest practitioner of the law; which is, I fancy, no very common character. Mrs Bell. And it must be a vast acquisition to the theatre? Lady Rach. Yet the managers of both houses have refused my play; have refused it peremptorily, though I offered to make them a present of it! Mrs Bel. That's very surprising, when you of fered to make them a present of it. Lady Rach. They alledge, that the audiences are tired of crying at comedies; and insist that my despairing shepherdess is absolutely too dismal for representation. Mrs Bel. What! though you have introduced a lawyer in a new light? Lady Rach. Yes, and have a boarding-school romp, that slaps her mother's face, and throws a bason of scalding water at her governess. bout the happiness of your wife, yet for ever edangering it by your passion for variety. Bel. Why, there is certainly a contradiction between my principles and my practice; but, if ever you marry, you'll be able to reconcile it perfectly. Possession, Savage! O, possession, is a miserable whetter of the appetite in love! and I own myself so sad a fellow, that, though I would not exchange Mrs Belville's mind for any woman's upon earth, there is scarcely a woman's person upon earth, which is not to me a stronger object of attraction. Capt. Sav. Then, perhaps, in a little time you'll be weary of Miss Leeson? Bel. To be sure I shall; though, to own the truth, I have not yet carried my point conclusively with the little monkey. Capt. Sav. Why, how the plague has she escaped a moment in your hands? Bel. By a mere accident. She came to the Mrs Bel. Why surely these are capital jokes! lodgings, which my man Spruce prepared for her, Lady Rach. But the managers can't find them rather unexpectedly last night, so that I happenout. However, I am determined to bring it outed to be engaged particularly in another quarter somewhere; and I have discovered such a trea--you understand me?—and the damned aust sure for my boarding-school romp, as exceeds the most sanguine expectation of criticism. Mrs Bel. How fortunate! Lady Rach. Going to Mrs Le Blond, my milliner's, this morning, to see some contraband silks (for you know there's a foreign minister just arrived), I heard a loud voice rehearsing Juliet from the dining-room; and, upon inquiry, found, that it was a country girl just eloped from her friends in town, to go upon the stage with an Irish manager. Mrs Bel. Ten to one the strange woman's niece, who has been here this morning. [Aside. Lady Rach. Mrs Le Blond has some doubts about the manager, it seems, though she has not seen him yet, because the apartments are very expensive, and were taken by a fine gentleman out of livery. Mrs Bel. What am I to think of this? Pray, lady Rachel, as you have conversed with this young actress, I suppose you could procure me a sight of her? Lady Rach. This moment, if you will. I am very intimate with her already; but pray keep the matter a secret from your husband, for he is so witty, you know, upon my passion for the draina, that I shall be teased to death by him. Mrs Bel. O, you may be very sure, that your secret is safe, for I have a most particular reason to keep it from Mr Belville; but he is coming this way with Captain Savage: let us, at present, avoid him. [Exeunt. Enter BELVILLE and CAPTAIN SAVAGE. found me so much employment all the morning, that I could only send a message by Spruce, promising to call upon her the first moment I had to spare in the course of the day. Capt. Sav. And so you are previously satisfied that you shall be tired of her?" Bel. Tired of her? Why, I am, at this moment, in pursuit of fresh game, against the hour of satiety: game, that you know to be exquisite: and I fancy I shall bring it down, though it is closely guarded by a deal of that pride, which passes for virtue with the generality of your mighty good people. Capt. Sav. Indeed! and may a body know this wonder? Bel. You are to be trusted with any thing, for you are the closest fellow I ever knew, and the the rack itself would hardly make you discover one of your own secrets to any body-What do you think of Miss Walsingham? Capt. Sav. Miss Walsingham! Death and the devil! [Aside. Bel. Miss Walsingham. Capt. Sav. Why surely she has not received your addresses with any degree of approbation? Bel. With every degree of approbation I could expect. Capt. Sav. She has? Bel. Ay: why this news surprises you? Bel. Ha, ha, ha! I can't help laughing to think what a happy dog Miss Walsingham's husband is likely to be! Capt. Sav. A very happy dog, truly! Bel. She's a delicious girl, isn't she, Savage? but she'll require a little more trouble; for a fine Capt. Sav. You are a very strange man, Bel-woman, like a fortified town, to speak in your faville; you are for ever tremblingly solicitous ather's language, demands a regular siege; and |