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ship with Mr Bevil, as to my only daughter, into the matter I came about ; but 'tis the same whorn I was this day disposing of.
thing as if we had talked ever so distinctly—he Ind. You inake me bope, sir, I have mistaken never shall have a daughter of mive. you: I am composed again : be free, say on- Ind. If you say this from what you think of what I am afraid to hear.
(Aside. me, you wroug yourself and him. Let not me, Mr Sea. I feared, indeed, an unwarranted miserable though I may be, do injury to my bepassion here, but I did not think it was an abuse nefactor : no, sir, my treatment ought rather to of so worthy an object, so accomplished a lady, reconcile you to his virtues. It to bestow withas your sense and mien bespeak— but the youth out a prospect of return—if to delight in supportof our age care not what merit and virtue they ing what might, perhaps, be thought an object of bring to shame, so they gratity
desire, with no other view than to be her guard Ind. Sir, you are going into very great errors against those who would not be so disinterested --but as you are pleased to say you see some--if these actions, sir, can in a parent's eye comthing in me that has changed at least the colour mend him to a daughter, give yours, sir; give of your suspicions, so has your appearance al- her to my honest, generous Bevil! What have I tered mine, and made me earnestly attentive to to do but sigh and weep, to rave, run wild, a luwhat has any way concerned you, to inquire into natic in chains, or, bid in darkness, mutter in my affairs and character.
distracted starts, and broken accents, my strange, Mr Sea. How sensibly—with what an air she strange story! talks !
Mr Sea. Take comfort, madam. Ind. Good sir, be seated—and tell me ten- Ind. All my comfort must be to expostulate derly-keep all your suspicions concerning me in madness, to relieve with frenzy my despair, alive, that you may in a proper and prepared and, shrieking, to demand of Fate why, why way-acquaint me why the care of your daugh- was I born to such variety of sorrows ? ter obliges a person of your seeming worth and Mr Sea. If I have been the least occasionfortune to be thus inquisitive about a wretched, Ind. No; 'twas Heaven's high will I should be. helpless, friendless[Weeping.) But I beg your such; to be plundered in my cradle, tossed on pardon-though I am an orphan, your child is the seas, and even there, an infant captive, to not, and your concern for her, it seems, has lose my mother, hear but of my father--to be abrought you hither — I'll be composed-pray, dopted, lose my adopter, then plunged again in go on, sir,
worse calamities! Mr Sea. How could Mr Bevil be such a AIr Sea. An infant captive! monster to injure such a woman?
Ind. Yet, then, to find the most charming of Ind. No, sir, you wrong him; he has not inju- mankind once more to set me free from what I red me--my support is from his bounty. thought the last distress, to load me with his ser
Mr Sea. Bounty! when gluttons give high vices, his bounties, and his favours, to support prices for delicacies, they are prodigious bounti- my very life in a way that stole, at the same ful!
time, my very soul itself from me. Ind. Still, still you will persist in that error- Mr Šea. And has young Bevil been this worbut
my own fears tell me all. You are the gen- thy mau ? tleman, I suppose, for whose happy daughter he Ind. Yet then, again, this very man to take ais designed a husband by his good father, and he nother, without leaving me the right, the prehas, perhaps, consented to the overture, and is tence, of casing my fond heart with tears?' for to be, perhaps, this night a bridegrooin. oh! I can't reproach him, though the same hand,
Mr Sea. I own he was intended such; but, that raised me to this height, now throws me madam, on your account, I am determined to de- down the precipice. fer my daughter's marriage till I am satisfied, Mr Sea. Dear lady! oh, yet one moment's from your own mouth, of what nature are the patience; my heart grows full with your afflicobligations you are under to him.
tion! but yet there's something in your story Ind. His actions, sir, his eyes, have only made that promises relief when you least hope it. me think he designed to make me the partner of Ind. My portion here is bitterness and sorhis heart. The goodness and gentleness of his row. demeanour made me misinterpret all ; 'twas my Mr Sea. Do not think so. Pray, answer me ; own hope, my own passion, that deluded me ;- does Bevil know your name and family? he never made one amorous advance to me; his Ind. Alas, too well! Oh! could I be any Jarge heart and bestowing hand have only helped other thing than what I am- I'll tear away ali the miserable: nor know I why, but from his traces of iny former self, my little ornaments, mnere delight in virtue, that I have been his care, the remains of my first state, the hints of what I the object on which to indulge and please himself ought to have beenwith pouring favours.
[In her disorder, she throus away her brace Mr Sea. Madam, I know not why it is, but I, let, which SEALAND takes up, and looks as well as you, ain, nethinks, afraid of entering carnestly 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!
Mr Sea. How laudable is love when born of Ind. What said you, sir? your wife! Whither virtue! I burn to embrace bim. does my fancy carry me? what means this new Ind. See, sir, my aunt already has succeeded, felt motion at my heart? And yet again ing for- and brought him to your wishes. tune but deludes me; for if I err not, sir, your
Enter ISABELLA with Sir Join Bevil, BEVIL name is Sealand; , but my lost father's name
jun. Mes SEALAND, CIMBERTON, MYRTLE,
and LUCINDA. Mr Sea. Danvers, was it not?
Ind. What new amazement ! that is, indeed, Sir J. Beo. [Entering.] Where, where's this my family.
scene of wonder!-Mr Sealand, I congratulate, Mr Sca. Know, then, when my misfortunes on this occasion, our mutual happiness--Your drove me to the Indies, for reasons too tedious good sister, sir, bas, with the story. of your pow to mention, I changed my name of Danvers daughter's fortune, filled us with surprise and joy. into Sealand.
Now all exceptions are removed; my son has Enter ISABELLA.
now avowed his love, and turned all former jea
lousies and doubts to approbation, and I ain told Isa. If yet there wants an explanation of your your goodness has consented to reward himn. wonder, examine well this face--yours, sir, I well Mr Sea. If, sir, a fortune, equal to his father's remember-Gaze on, and read in me, your sis hopes, can make this object worthy his acceptter Isabella. Mr Sea. My sister !
Bev. I hear your mention, sir, of fortune, with Isa. But here's a claim more tender yet-your pleasure only, as it may prove the means to reIndiana, sir, your long-lost daughter.
concile the best of fathers to my love; let him Mr Sea. Oh, my child, my child !
be provident, but let me be happy.—My ever Ind. All-gracious Heaven! is it possible! do destined, my acknowledged wife! I embrace my father!
[Embracing IndianA. Mr Sea. And do I hold thee !--These pas- Ind. Wife !-oh! my ever-loved, my lord, my sions are too strong for utterance.—Rise, rise, my master! child, and give my tears their way-Oh, my sis- Sir J. Beo. I congratulate myself, as well as
[Embracing her. you, that I have a son who could, under such Isa. Now, dearest niece! my groundless fears, disadvantages, discover your great merit
. my painful cares, no more shall vex thee: if I Alr Sea. Oh, sir Jobii, how vain, how weak is have wronged thy noble lover with too hard sus-human prudence! what care, what foresight, what picions, my just concern for thec, I hope, will imagination could contrive such blest events 10 plead my pardon.
make our children happy, as Providence, in one Mir Sea. Oh! make him then the full amends, short hour, has laid before us? and be yourself the messenger of joy: fly this in- Cim. [To Mrs SEALAND.]I am afraid, madam, stant-tell him all these wondrous turns of Pro- Mr Sealand is a little too busy for our affair; if vidence in his favour; tell him I have now a you please we'll take another opportunity. daughter to bestow, which he no longer will He- Airs Sea. Let us have patience, sir. cline; that this day he still shall be a bridegroom; Cim. But we make sir Geoffry wait, madam. nor shall a fortune, the merit which his father Dlyr. Oh, sir, I'm not in haste. seeks, be wanting. Tell him the reward of all [During this, Bev. jun. presents Lucinda his virtues waits on his acceptance. [Exit Isa
to INDIANA.] BELLA.] My dearest Indiana!
Mr Sea. But here, here's our general bene[Turns and embraces her. factor. Excellent young man ! that could be at Ind. Have I then at last a father's sanction on once a lover to her beauty, and a parent to her my love? his bounteous hand to give, and make virtue ! my heart a present worthy of Bevil's generosity? Bev. jun. If you think that an obligation, sir,
Ur Sea. Oh, my child? how are our sorrows give me leave to overpay myself in the only inpast o'erpaid by such a meeting ! Though I have stance that can now add to my felicity, by beglost so many years of soft paternal dalliance with ging you to bestow this lady on Mr Myrtle. thee, yet, in one day to find thee thus, and thus Mir Sea. She is his without reserve; I beg he bestow thee, in such perfect happiness, is ample, may be sent for. Mr Cimberton, notwithstandample reparation! and yet, again, the incrit of thy ing you never had my consent, yet there is, since lover
I saw you, another objection to your marriage Ind. Oh, had I spirits left to tell you of his with my daughter. actions ! how strongly filial duty has suppressed Cim. I hope, sir, your lady has concealed nohis love, and how concealment still has doubled thing froin me? Vol. II.
Mr Sea. Troth, sir, nothing but what was con- of being in treaty with one who has as meanly left cealed from myself; another daughter, who has her, as you have generously asserted your right an undoubted title to half my estate.
in her, she is yours. Cim. How, Mr Sealand! why then, if half Luc. Mr Myrtle, though you have ever had Mrs Lucinda's fortune is gone, you can't say that my heart, yet now I find I love you more, beany of iny estate is settled upon I was in
cause I deserve you less. treaty for the whole: but if that's not to be come Mrs Sea. Well, however, I'm glad the girl's at, to be sure there can be no bargain. Sir–I disposed of any way.
[Aside. have nothing to do but to take my leave of your Bev. jun. Myrtle ! no longer rivals now, but good lady my cousin, and beg pardon for the brothers. trouble I have given this old gentleman.
Myr. Dear Bevil! you are born to triumph Myr. That you have, Mr Cimberton, with all over me; but now our competition ceases: I re
[Discovers himself. joice in the pre-eminence of your virtue, and your Omnes. Mr Myrtle !
alliance adds charms to Lucinda. Myr. And I beg pardon of the whole company,
Sir J. Bev. Now, ladies and gentlemen, you that † assumed the person of sir Geoffry only to have set the world a fair example; your happibe present at the danger of this lady's being dis- ness is owing to your constancy and merit, and posed of, and, in her utmost exigence, to assert the several difficulties you have struggled with my right to ber, which, if her parents will ratify, evidently shewas they once favoured my pretensions, no abatement of fortune shall lessen her value to me. Whate'er the generous mind itself denies, Luc. Generous man !
The secret care of Providence supplies. Mr Sea. If, sir, you can overlook the injury
Lady Towney, immoderate in her pursuit of
pleasures. Sir Francis WrongHEAD, a country gentle- Lady Grace, sister to Lord Townly, of exem
plary virtue. SQUIRE RICHARD, his son, a mere whelp. LADY WRONGHEAD, wife to Sir Francis, incliCount Basset, a gamester.
ned to be a fine lady.
Mrs MOTHERLY, one that lets lodgings.
SCENE I.-Lord TownLy's apartment. pride of that single virtue, she seems to lay it
down as a fundamental point, that the free inLORD TOWNly, solus.
dulgence of every other vice this fertile town afWuy did I marry? Was it not evident, my fords, is the birth-right prerogative of a woman plain, rational scheme of life was impracticable, of quality Amazing ! that a creature, so with a woman of so different a way of thinking? warm in the pursuit of her pleasures, should ne-Is there one article of it that she has not broke ver cast one thought towards her happinessin upon ?--Yes-let me do her justice-her re- Thus, while she admits of no lover, she thinks it putation - That I have no reason to believe a greater merit still, in her chastity, not to care is in question-But, then, how long her profligate for her husband; and, while she herself is solacourse of pleasures may make her able to keep cing in one continual round of cards and good it-is a shocking question ! and her presumption company, he, poor wretch! is left at large, to while she keeps it--insupportable ! 'for, on the take care of his own contentment—Tis time,
indeed, some care were taken; and speedily there Lord Town. And you promise to answer me sball be-Yet, let me not be rasti-Perhaps | sincerely? this disappointment of my heart may make me Lady Town. Sincerely. too impatient; and some tempers, when reproach- Lord Town. Now, then, recollect your thoughts, ed, grow more untractable-Here she comes-- and tell me seriously why you married me? Let me be calm awhile.
Lady Town. You insist upon truth, you say?
Lord Town. I think I have a right to it.
Lady Town. Why then, my lord, to give you, Going out so soon after dinner, madam?
at once, a proof of my obediente and sincerity Lady Town. Lard, my lord! what can I pos- I think I married-to take off that restraint sibly do at home?
that lay upon iny pleasures while I was a single Lord Town. What does my sister, Lady Grace, woman. do at home?
Lord Town. How, madam ! is any woman Lady Town. Why, that is to me amazing! under less restraint after marriage than before Hlave you ever any pleasure at home?
it? Lord Town. It might be in your power, ma- Lady Town. Oh, my lord, my lord! they are dam, I confess, to make it a little more comfort-different creatures! Wives have intinite liberties able to me,
in life, that would be terrible in an unmarried Lady Town. Comfortable! And so, my good 'woman to take. Jord, you would really have a woman of my rank Lord Town. Name one. and spirit stay at home to comfort her husband ! Lady Town. Fifty, if you please—To begin, Lord ! what notions of life some men have ! then- in the morning-A married woman may
Lord Town. Don't you think, madam, some have men at her toilet; invite them to dinner; ladies' notions are full as extravagant?
appoint them a party in the stage-box at the Lady Town. Yes, my Jord; when the tame play; engross the conversation there; call them doves live cooped within the pen of your pre- by their christian names; talk louder than the cepts, I do think them prodigious indeed. players; from thence jaunt into the city; take
Lord Town. And when they fly wild about this, a frolicsome supper at an India-House ; perhaps, town), madam, pray, what must the world think in her guieté de caur toast a pretty fellow; then of them, then?
clatter again to this end of the town; break, Lady Town. Oh! this world is not so ill-bred with the morning, into an assembly; crowd to as to quarrel with any woman for liking it! the hazard-table; throw a familiar lerant upon
Lord Town. Nor am I, madam, a husband so some sharp, lurching man of quality, and, if he well-bred, as to bear my wife's being so fond of demands his money, turn it off with a loud laugh, it: in short, the life you lead, madam
and cry—you'll owe it him, to vex him, ha, Lady Town. Is to ine the pleasantest life in ha! the world.
Lord Touen. Prodigious!
[ Aside. Lord Town. I should not dispute your taste, Ludy Town. These, now, my lord, are some madam, if a woman had a right to please nobody few of the many modish amusements that disbut herself,
tinguish the privilege of a wife, froin that of a Lady Town. Why! whom would you have her single woman. please ?
Lord Town. Death, madam! what law has Lord Town. Sometimes her husband.
made these liberties less scandalous in a wife, Lady Town. And don't you think a husband | than in an unmarried woman? under the same obligation?
Ludy Toun. Why the strongest law in the Lord Town. Certainly.
world, custom-custom, time out of mind, iny Ludy Town. Why, then, we are agreed, my lord. lord-For, if I never go abroad till I am wea- Lord Town. Custom, madam, is the law of ry of being at home-which you know is the case fools; but it shall never govern me. -is it not equally reasonable, not to come home Ludy Town. Nay, then, my lord, 'tis time for till one is weary of being abroad?
me to observe the laws of prudence. Lord. Town. If this be your rule of life, ma- Lord Toun. I wish I could see an instance of dam, 'tis time to ask you one serious question. it. Lady Town. Don't let it be long a coming, then Lady Toun. You shall have one this moment, -for I am in haste.
my lord; for I think, when a man begins to lose Lord Town. Madam, when I am serious, I ex- hus temper at home, if a woman has any prue pect a serious answer.
dence, wby-she'll go abroad 'till he comes to hinnLady Town. Before I know the question? self again.
[Going: Lord Toun. Psha !-Have I power, madam, Lord Town. Hold, madam-- am amazed to make you serious by entreaty?
you are not more uneasy at the life you lead. Ludy Town. You have.
You don't want sense, and yet seem void of all