since he tells me he has made a good choice, I shall be glad to see him happy. Capt. Cape. But, sir, let me tell you, that your nephew has used me very basely, and, sir Mr Har. Nay, nay, Captain, this is wrong, now; every thing was settled between us in the other room; recollect yourself; do, I beg you will-Oh, here come the ladies. Enter MRS. and MISS HARLOW. Miss Hur. Now, sister, you shall see I have completed my conquest Cle. Now, then, I am happy indeed ; my lovely, charming bride, thus let me snatch you to my heart, and thus, and thus Embraces MRS. HARLOW. Mr. Har. Zounds! Before my face![Pushing him away. Cle. Pr'ythee, indulge my transport; my life, my angel! Mr. Har. I desire you will desist, sirCle. Nay, nay; pr'ythee, be quiet-my ing, charming wife? Miss Har. Yes, sir, but there is harm done; I am made sport of-exposed to derision-Oh! I cannot bear this-I cannot bear it—[Cries. Mrs. Har. Don't cry, sister-some faces preserve the bloom longer than others, you know— ila, ba! Cape. Cape. Loll toll loll! Heart. I don't understand all this; is that lady your wife, sir? Mr. Har. She is, sir. Heart. And pray, nephew, you took that lady for Mr. Harlow's sister, I suppose? Cle. I did, sir. I beg pardon for the trouble I have given; I am in such confusion, I can hardly Heart. Well, well, the thing is cleared up, and there is no harm done; but you should have known what ground you went upon-ha, ha! I can't help laughing, neither. Mr. Har. Why, faith, nor I; ha, ha! Cle. Since matters have turned so unexpectcharm-edly, I beg pardon for my mistake, and, sir, I take my leave. [Going. Miss Hur. And will you treat me in this mauner, sir? Will you draw me into such a scrape, Mr. Har. That lady is not your wife- and bliss! Cie. Ha, ha! You are very pleasant, sir. Mr. Har. I say, sir, that lady is my wife! Capt. Cape. Ha, ha! I see through this-it is a comedy of errors, I believe! Heart. What does all this mean? Cle. Your wife, sir! [Sings. and not Cle. Madam, that gentleman would cut my throat his claim is prior to mine and, I dare say, he will be very glad to be reconciled, madam. Miss Har. You are a base man, then, and I reject you; Captain Cape, I see my error, sir, and I resign myself to you. Capt. Cape. No, madam, I beg to be excused! I have been a dangler too long; I ought to have been a brisker lover; I shall endeavour to survive it, madam-I won't do myself a mischief Mr. Har. Yes, my wife; and there is my sis- and I have my answer-I am off, madam--loll ter, if you please to take her. Cle. Sir! Miss Har. Lord! lord! have I been made a fool of all this time! furies! torture! murder! Capt. Cape. Ha, ha! my lady fair is taken in, I think. Mrs. Har. Sister, the men don't see with my eyes-ha, ha! Capt. Cape. Ha, ha! the gentleman is no dangler, madam. toll loll! Mrs. Har. Ha, ha! I told you this, my dear sister Cle. Madam, I dare say, the gentleman will think better of it: Mr. Harlow, I am sorry for all this confusion, and I beg pardon of the whole company for my mistake-Mrs. Harlow, I wish you all happiness, madam—angelic creature! what a misfortune to lose her! [Bows, and exit. Capt Cape. And I will follow his example; Miss Harlow, I wish you all happiness-angelic creature! what a misfortune to lose her! upon my soul, I think you a most admirable jilt, and so now you may go and bewail your virginity in the mountains-loll toll loll! [Exit CAPT. CAPE. Miss Har. Oh! oh! I can't bear to be treatMrs. Har. This is a complete conquest my sis-ed in this manner! I'll go and hide myself from ter has madethe world for ever-Oh! oh! the men are all savages, barbarians, monsters, and I hate the whole sex-Oh! oh!- -[Cries bitterly.] Miss Har. I can't bear this!-Sir, I desire I may not be made a jest of; did not you solicit me? importune me? Cle. For your interest in that lady, madam, whom I took for Miss Harlow; I beg your pardon if I am mistaken; I hope there is no harm done. [Exit MISS HAR. Mrs. Har. My dear sister, with her beauty and her conquests, ha, ha! Mr. Har. Ha, ha! very whimsical and ridiculous Heart. Sir, my nephew is young-I am sorry for this scene of errors, and I hope you will ascribe the whole to his inexperience. Mr. Hur. I certainly shall, sir. Mrs. Har. I cautioned my sister sufficiently about this matter; but vanity got the better of her, and leaves her now a whimsical instance of folly and affectation. In vain the faded Toast her mirror tries, She proves a subject of the comic strain. [Exeunt omnes. SCENE 1.-A room in SIR JASPER WILDING'S House. YOUNG WILDING, BEAUFORT, and WILL following. Wild. Ha, ha! my dear Beaufort! a fiery young fellow like you, melted down into a sighing, love-sick dangler after a high heel, a wellturned ancle, and a short petticoat! Beau. Pr'ythee, Wilding, don't laugh at meMaria's charms Wild. Maria's charms! and so now you would fain grow wanton in her praise, and have me listen to your raptures about my own sister? Ha, ha! poor Beaufort!- -Is my sister at home, Will? Will. She is, sir. Wild. How long has my father been gone out? Wild, Very well. Pray, give Mr. Beaufort's compliments to my sister, and he is come to wait upon her. [Exit WILL.] You will be glad to see her, I suppose, Charles ? Beau. I live but in her presence! Wild. Live but in her presence! How the devil could the young baggage raise this riot in your heart? 'Tis more than her brother could ever do with any of her sex. Beau. Nay, you have no reason to complain; you are come up to town, post-haste, to marry a wealthy citizen's daughter, who only saw you last season at Tunbridge, and has been languishing for you ever since. Wild. 'Tis more than I do for her; and, to tell you the truth, more than I believe she does for me: This is a match of prudence, man! bargain and sale! my reverend dad and the old put of a citizen finished the business at Lloyd's coffee house by inch of candle-a mere transferring of property! Give your son to my daughter, and I will give my daughter to your son.' That's the whole affair; and so I am just arrived to consummate the nuptials. Beau. Thou art the happiest fellowWild. Happy! so I am; what should I be otherwise for? If Miss Sally-upon my soul, I forget the name Beau. Well! that is so unlike you-Miss Sally Philpot. Wild. Ay; very true- -Miss Sally Philpot ——she will bring fortune sufficient to pay off an old incumbrance upon the family-estate, and my father is to settle handsomely upon me-and so I have reason to be contented, have not I? Beau. And you are willing to marry her without having one spark of love for her? Wild. Love!-Why, I make myself ridiculous enough by marrying, don't I, without being in love into the bargain? What! am I to pine for a girl that is willing to go to bed to me? Love, of all things!-My dear Beaufort, one sees so many breathing raptures about each other before marriage, and dinning their insipidity into the ears of all their acquaintance: My dear madam, don't you think him a sweet man? a charminger | creature never was!' Then he on his sideMy life! my angel! oh! she's a paradise of ever-blooming sweets!' And, then, in a month's time, 'He's a perfidious wretch! I wish I had never seen his face-the devil was in me when I had any thing to say to him.'-Oh! damn her for an inanimated piece-I wish she poisoned herself, with all my heart.' That is ever the way; and so you see love is all nonsense; well enough to furnish romances for boys and girls at circulating libraries; that is all, take my word for it. Beau. Pho! that is idle talk; and in the mean time I am ruined. Wild. How so? brother-in-law, I know nothing of them. What sort of a fellow is the son? Beau. Oh! a diamond of the first water! a buck, sir! a blood! every night at this end of the town; at twelve next day he sneaks about the 'Change, in a little bit of a frock, and a bobwig, and looks like a sedate book-keeper in the eyes of all who behold him. Wild. Upon my word a gentleman of spirit! Beau. Spirit! he drives a phaton two story high, keeps his girl at this end of the town, and is the gay George Philpot all round Covent Gar den. Wild. Oh, brave!—and the fatherBeau. The father, sir-But here comes Maria; take his picture from her. [She sings within. Wild. Hey! she is musical this morning;she holds her usual spirits, I find. Beau. Yes, yes; the spirit of eighteen, with the idea of a lover in her head. Wild. Ay; and such a lover as you, too !— though still in her teens, she can play upon all your foibles, and treat you as she does her monkey-tickle you, torment you, enrage you, sooth you, exalt you, depress you, pity you, laugh at you—Ecce signum! Enter MARIA, singing. The same giddy girl!--Sister !—come, my dear— Maria. Have done, brother; let me have my own way-I will go through my song. Wild. I have not seen you this age; ask me how I do. Maria. I won't ask you how you do—I won't take any notice of you-I don't know you. Wild. Do you know this gentleman, then? will you speak to him? Maria. No, I won't speak to him; I'll sing to him-'tis my humour to sing. [Sings. Beau. Be serious for a moment, Maria! my all depends upon it Maria. Oh, sweet sir! you are dying, are you? then, positively, I will sing the song; for it is a description of yourself-mind it, Mr. Beaufort Beau. Why, you know the old couple have-mind it- -Brother, how do you do? [Kisses bargained your sister away. Wild. Bargained her away! and will you pretend you are in love? Can you look tamely on, and see her bartered away at Garraway's, like logwood, cochineal, or indigo? Marry her privately, man, and keep it secret till my affair is over. Beau. My dear Wilding will you propose it to her. Wild. With all my heart she is very long a coming- -I'll tell you what, if she has a fancy for you, carry her off at once-But, perhaps, she has a mind to this cub of a citizen, Miss Sally's brother. Beau. Oh, no! he's her aversion. Wild. I have never seen any of the family,but my wife that is to be-my father-in-law and my him.] Say nothing, don't interrupt me. [Sings. Wild. Have you seen your city lover yet? Maria. No; but I long to see him; I fancy he is a curiosity. Beau. Long to see him, Maria! Maria. Yes; long to see him!-[Beaufort fiddles with his lip, and looks thoughtful.] Brother, brother! [Goes to him softly, beckons him to look at BEAUFORT] do you see that? [Mimics him] mind him; ha, ha! Beau. Make me ridiculous if you will, Maria, so you don't make me unhappy by marrying this cititzen. Maria And would you not have me marry, sir? What! I must lead a single life to, please you, must I?-Upon my word, you are a pretty gentleman to make laws for me. [Sings. Can it be, or by law, or by equity said, Wild. Come, come, Miss Pert, compose yourself a little-this way will never do. Wild. Where are you to see the young citi Maria. My cross ill-natured brother! but it zen? will do- -Lord! what, do you both call me Maria, Why, papa will be at home in an hour, hither to plague me? I won't stay among ye-à and then he intends to drag me into the city l'honneur, à l'honneur [Running away.] àwith him, and there the sweet creature is to be l'honneur. introduced to me. The old gentleman his father is delighted with me; but I hate him; an ugly old thing. Wild. Hey, hey, Miss Notable! come back; pray madam, come back― · [Forces her back. Maria. Lord of Heaven, what do you want? Wild. Come, come; truce with your frolics, Miss Hoyden, and behave like a sensible girl; we have serious business with you. Maria. Have you? well, come, I will be sensible-there, I blow all my folly away-'tis gone, 'tis gone-and now I'll talk sense; come- -is that a sensible face? Wild. Poh, poh! be quiet and hear what we have to say to you. Maria. I will; I am quiet.-'Tis charming weather; it will be good for the country, this will. Wild. Poh, ridiculous! how can you be silly? so Maria. Bless me! I never saw any thing like you there is no such thing as satisfying you-I ain sure it was very good sense, what I saidPapa talks in that manner- -Well, well, I'll be silent, then-I won't speak at all: will that satisfy you? [Looks sullen. Wild. Come, come, no more of this folly, but mind what is said to you. You have not seen your city lover, you say? [MARIA shrugs her shoulders and shakes her head.] Why don't you answer? Beau. My dear Maria put me out of pain. [MARIA shrugs her shoulders again. Wild. Poh, don't be so childish, but give a rational answer. Maria. Why, no then; no-no, no, no, no, no-I tell you no, no, no! Wild. Come, come, my little giddy sister, you must not be so flighty: behave sedately, and don't be a girl always. Maria. Why, don't I tell you I have not seen him-but I am to see him this very day, Beau. To see him this day, Maria! Maria. Ha, ha ! look there, brother; he is beginning again-But don't fright yourself, and I'll tell you all about it-My papa comes to me this morning by the by, he makes a fright of himself with this strange dress. Why does not he dress as other gentlemen do, brother? Wild. He dresses like his brother fox-hunters in Wiltshire. Maria. But when he comes to town, I wish he would do as other gentlemen do here--I am almost ashamed of him. But he comes to me this morning. Hoic, hoic! our Moll. Where is the sly puss-Tallyho!-Did you want me, papa? Come hither, Moll, I'll gee you a husband Wild. Give us a description of him; I want to know him. Maria. Why, he looks like the picture of avarice, sitting with pleasure upon a bag of money, and trembling for fear any body should come and take it away. He has got square toed shoes, and little tiney buckles; a brown coat, with small round brass buttons, that looks as if it was new in my great grandmother's time, and his face all shrivelled and pinched with care; and he shakes his head like a Mandarine upon a chimney-piece Ay, ay, Sir Jasper, you are right-and then he grins at me-'I profess she is a very pretty bale of goods. Ay, ay, and my son Bob is a very sensible lad-ay, ay, and I will underwrite their happiness for one and a half per cent.' Wild. Thank you, my dear girl! thank you for this account of my relations. Beau. Destruction to my hopes! surely my dear little angel, if you have any regard for me again. Maria. There, there, there he is frightened [Sings, Dearest creature, &c Wild. Psha! give over these airs-listen to me, and I'll instruct you how to manage them all. Maria, Oh, my dear brother! you are very good; but don't mistake yourself-though just come from a boarding-school, give me leave to manage for myself. There is in this case a man I like, and a man I don't like, It is not you I like, [To BEAUFORT.] No, no; I hate you. But let this little head alone! I know what to do-I shall know how to prefer one, and get rid of the other. Beau. What will you do, Maria? Do not grieve me, Oh, relieve me, &c. Wild. Come, come, be serious Miss Pert, and I'll instruct you what to do : The old cit you say, admires you for your understanding; and his son would not marry you, unless he found you a girl of sense and spirit. Maria. Even so this is the character of your giddy sister. Wild. Why then, I'll tell you. You shall make him hate you for a fool, and so let the refusal come from himself. |