ACT I.

MY dear ſiſter, let me tell you—

But, my dear ſiſter, let me tell you it is in vain; you can ſay no⯑thing that will have any effect.

Not if you won't hear me—only hear me—

Oh! ma'am, I know you love to hear yourſelf talk, and ſo pleaſe yourſelf;—but I am reſolved—

Your reſolution may alter.

Never.

Upon a little conſideration.

Upon no conſideration.

You don't know how that may be—recol⯑lect, ſiſter, that you are no chicken—you are not now of the age that becomes giddineſs and folly.

Age, ma'am—

Do but hear me, ſiſter—do but hear me—A perſon of your years—

My years, ſiſter!—Upon my word—

Nay, no offence, ſiſter—

But there is offence, ma'am:—I don't underſtand what you mean by it—always thwarting me with my years—my years, in⯑deed! [3] —when perhaps, ma'am, if I was to die of old age, ſome folks might have rea⯑ſon to look about them.

She feels it I ſee—oh! I delight in mor⯑tifying her—

—ſiſter, if I did not love you I am ſure I ſhould not talk to you in this manner—But how can you make ſo unkind a return now as to alarm me about myſelf?—in ſome ſixteen or eighteen years after you, to be ſure, I own I ſhall begin to think of making my will—How could you be ſo ſevere?—

Some ſixteen or eighteen years, ma'am!—If you would own the truth, ma'am,—I be⯑lieve ma'am,—you would find, ma'am, that the diſparity, ma'am, is not, ſo very great, ma'am—

Well! I vow paſſion becomes you inordi⯑nately—It blends a few roſes with the lillies of your cheek, and—

And tho' you are married to my brother, ma'am, I would have you to know, ma'am, that you are not thereby any way authoriſed, ma'am, to take unbecoming liberties with his ſiſter.—I am independent of my bro⯑ther, ma'am,—my fortune is in my own hands, ma'am, and ma'am—

Well! do you know now when your blood circulates a little, that I think you look mighty well?—But you was in the wrong not to marry at my age—ſweet three and twenty!—you can't conceive what a deal of good it would have done your, tem⯑per and your ſpirits, if you had married early—

Inſolent!—provoking—female malice—

But to be waiting till it is almoſt too late in the day, and force one's ſelf to ſay ſtrange things;—with the tongue and heart at variance all the time—"I don't mind the hideous men"—"I am very happy as I am"—and all that time, my dear, dear ſiſter—to be upon the tenter-hooks of expectation—

I upon tenter-hooks!—

And to be at this work of four grapes, till one is turned of three and forty—

Three and forty, ma'am!—I deſire, ſiſter—I deſire, ma'am—three and forty, ma'am—

Nay—nay—nay—don't be angry—don't blame me—blame my huſband; he is your [5] own brother, you know, and he knows your age—He told me ſo

Oh! ma'am, I ſee your drift—but you need not give yourſelf thoſe airs, ma'am—the men don't ſee with your eyes, ma'am—years, indeed!—Three and forty, truly!—I'll aſſure you—upon my word—hah! very fine!—But I ſee plainly, ma'am, what you are at—Mr. Clerimont, madam!—Mr. Clerimont, ſiſter! that's what frets you—a young huſband, ma'am—younger than your huſband, ma'am—Mr. Clerimont, let me tell you, ma'am—

Oh! rare news, ma'am, charming news—we have got another letter—

From whom?—from Mr. Clerimont?—where is it?

Yes, ma'am—from Mr. Clerimont, ma'am.

Let me ſee it—let me ſee it—quick—quick—

There ſiſter, mind that!—years indeed!—

I wiſh you joy, ſiſter—I wiſh I had not gone to Ranelagh with her laſt week—Who could have thought that her faded beauties would have made ſuch an impreſ⯑ſion on him?

Mind here again, ſiſter.—

There, ſiſter!—

Well! I wiſh you joy again—but re⯑member I tell you, take care what you do.—He is young, and of courſe giddy and in⯑conſtant.

He is warm, paſſionate, and tender—

But you don't know how long that may laſt—and here are you going to break off a very ſuitable match,—which all your friends liked and approved, a match with captain Cape, who to be ſure—

Don't name captain Cape, I beſeech you, don't name him—

Captain Cape, let me tell you, is not to be deſpiſed—He has acquired by his voy⯑ages to India a very pretty fortune—has a charming box of a houſe upon Hackney-Marſh,—and is of an age every way ſuit⯑able to you.

There again now!—age! age! age! for ever!—years—years—my years!—But I tell you once for all, Mr. Clerimont does not ſee with your eyes—I am deter⯑mined to hear no more of captain Cape—Odious Hackney-Marſh!—ah! ſiſter, you would be glad to ſee me married in a middling way—

I, ſiſter!—I am ſure nobody will re⯑joice more at your preferment—I am re⯑ſolved never to viſit her if Mr. Clerimont marries her—

Well! well! I tell you, Mr. Clerimont has won my heart—young—handſome—rich—town houſe, country houſe—equi⯑page—To him, and only him, will I ſur⯑render myſelf—Three and forty, indeed!—ha! ha!—you ſee, my dear, dear ſiſter, that theſe features are ſtill regular and blooming;—that the love-darting eye has not quite forſook me; and that I have made a conqueſt which your boaſted youth might be vain of—

Oh! ma'am, I beg your pardon if I have taken too much liberty for your good—

I humbly thank you for your advice, my ſweet dear, friendly ſiſter—But don't envy me, I beg you won't;—don't fret your⯑ſelf; you can't conceive what a deal of good a ſerenity of mind will do your health—I'll go and write an anſwer directly to this charming, charming letter—ſiſter—yours—I ſhall be glad to ſee you, ſiſter, at my houſe in Hill-ſtreet, when I am Mrs. Clerimont—and remember what I tell you—that ſome faces retain their bloom and beauty longer than you imagine—my dear ſiſter—Come, Trifle—let me fly this moment—Siſter, your ſervant.

Your ſervant, my dear!—well!—I am determined to lead the gayeſt life in nature, if ſhe marries Clerimont.—I'll have a new equipage, that's one thing—and I'll have greater routs than her, that's another—Po⯑ſitively, I muſt outſhine her there—and I'll keep up a polite enmity with her—go and ſee her, may be once or twice in a winter—"Ma'am, I am really ſo hurried with ſuch a number of acquaintances, that I can't poſ⯑ſibly find time"—And then to provoke her, "I wiſh you joy, ſiſter, I hear you are breeding"—ha! ha!—that will ſo mortify her—"I wiſh it may be a boy, ſiſter"—ha! ha!—and then when her huſband be⯑gins to deſpiſe her, ‘Really, ſiſter, I pity you—had you taken my advice, and mar⯑ried the India captain—your caſe is a com⯑paſſionate one’—Compaſſion is ſo inſo⯑lent when a body feels none at all—ha! ha!—it is the fineſt way of inſulting—

So, my dear; how are my ſiſter's affairs going on?

Why, my dear, ſhe has had another letter from Mr. Clerimont—did you ever hear of ſuch an odd unaccountable thing patched up in a hurry here?

Why it is ſudden, to be ſure—

Upon my word, I think you had better adviſe her not to break off with captain Cape—

No—not I—I wiſh ſhe may be married to one or other of them—for her temper is really grown ſo very ſour, and there is ſuch eternal wrangling between ye both, that I wiſh to ſee her in her own houſe, for the peace and quiet of mine.

Do you know this Mr. Clerimont?

No; but I have heard of the family—There is a very fine fortune—I wiſh he may hold his intention.

Why, I doubt it vaſtly—

And truly ſo do I—for between ourſelves, I ſee no charms in my ſiſter—

For my part I can't comprehend it—how ſhe could ſtrike his fancy, is to me the moſt aſtoniſhing thing—After this, I ſhall be ſur⯑priſed at nothing—

Well! ſtrange things do happen;—ſo ſhe is but married out of the way, I am ſatisfied—an old maid in a houſe is the de⯑vil—

Mr. Clerimont, Sir, to wait on you—

Shew him in

—how comes this viſit, pray?—

My ſiſter wrote to him to explain himſelf to you—Well! it is mighty odd—but I'll leave you to yourſelves. The man muſt be an ideot to think of her—

Sir, I am glad to have this pleaſure.

I preſume, Sir, you are no ſtranger to the buſineſs that occaſions this viſit.

Sir, the honour you do me and my family—

Oh! Sir, to be allied to your family by ſo tender a tie as a marriage with your ſiſter, will at once reflect a credit upon me, and conduce to my happineſs in the moſt eſſential point—The lady charmed me at the very firſt ſight.

The devil ſhe did!

The ſenſibility of her countenance, the elegance of her figure, the ſweetneſs of her manner—

Sir, you are pleaſed to—compliment!

Compliment!—not in the leaſt, Sir—

The ſweetneſs of my ſiſter's manner

ha! ha!

The firſt time I ſaw her was a few nights ago at Ranelagh—Though there was a crowd of beauties in the room, thronging and preſſing all around, yet ſhe ſhone amongſt them all with ſuperior luſtre—She was walk⯑ing arm in arm with another lady—no op⯑portunity offered for me to form an acquain⯑tance amidſt the hurry and buſtle of the place, but I enquired their names as they were going into their chariot—and learned they were Mrs. and Miſs HARLOW. From that moment ſhe won my heart, and at one glance I became the willing captive of her beauty—

A very candid declaration, Sir!—how can this be? The bloom has been off the peach any time theſe fifteen years, to my [13] knowlege—

—You ſee my ſiſter with a favourable eye, Sir.

A favourable eye!—He muſt greatly want diſcernment, who has not a quick per⯑ception of her merit.

You do her a great deal of honour—but this affair—is it not ſomewhat ſudden, Sir?—

I grant it—you may indeed be ſurpriſed at it, Sir; nor ſhould I have been hardy enough to make any overtures to you,—at leaſt yet a while,—if ſhe herſelf had not condeſcended to liſten to my paſſion, and au⯑thoriſed me under her own fair hand to ap⯑ply to her brother for his conſent—

I ſhall be very ready, Sir, to give my ap⯑probation to my ſiſter's happineſs—

No doubt you will—but let me not cheriſh an unavailing flame, a flame that al⯑ready lights up all my tendereſt paſſions.

To you, Sir, there can be no exception—I am not altogether a ſtranger to your fa⯑mily and fortune—His language is warm, conſidering my ſiſter's age—but I won't hurt her preferment—

—you will pardon me, Sir, one thing—you are very young—

Sir,—I am almoſt three and twenty.

But have you conſulted your friends?

I have—my uncle, Mr. Heartwell, who propoſes to leave me a very handſome addi⯑tion to my fortune, which is conſiderable al⯑ready—He, Sir—

Well! Sir, if he has no objection, I can have none—

He has none, Sir; he has given his con⯑ſent; he deſires me to loſe no time—I will bring him to pay you a viſit—He rejoices in my choice—you ſhall have it out of his own mouth—name your hour, and he ſhall at⯑tend you—

Any time to-day—I ſhall ſtay at home on purpoſe—

In the evening I will conduct him hither—in the mean time I feel an attachment here—The lady, Sir—

Oh! you want to ſee my ſiſter—I will ſend her to you, Sir, this inſtant—I beg your pardon for leaving you alone—ha! ha!—who could have thought of her making a conqueſt at laſt—

Sir, your moſt obedient—now, Clerimont, now your heart may reſt content—your doubts and fears may all ſubſide, and joy and rapture take their place—Miſs Harlow ſhall be mine—ſhe receives my vows; ſhe approves my paſſion,—

Soft! here ſhe comes—Her very appear⯑ance controuls my wildeſt hopes, and huſhes my proud heart into reſpect and ſilent ad⯑miration—

Sir, your ſervant—

Madam

I thought Mr. Harlow was here, Sir.

Madam, he is but juſt gone—how a ſingle glance of her eye over-awes me!

I wonder he would leave you alone, Sir—that is not ſo polite in his own houſe—

How her modeſty throws a veil over her inclinations!—my tongue faulters!—I can't ſpeak to her.

He ſeems in confuſion—a pretty man too!—That this ſhould be my ſiſter's luck!—

Madam!—

I imagine you have been talking to him on the ſubject of the letter you ſent this morning.—

Madam, I have preſumed to—

Well! Sir, and he has no objection, I hope—

She hopes! Heavens bleſs her for the word—

—Madam, he has frankly conſented, if his ſiſter will do me that ho⯑nour—

For his ſiſter, I think I may venture to anſwer, Sir—

Generous! generous creature!

You are ſure, Sir, of Miſs Harlow's ad⯑miration, and the whole family hold them⯑ſelves much obliged to you—

Madam, this extreme condeſcenſion has added rapture to the ſentiments I felt before; [17] and it ſhall be the endeavour of my life to prove deſerving of the amiable object I have dared to aſpire to.—

Sir, I make no doubt of your ſincerity—I have already declared my ſentiments—you know Mr. Harlow's—and if my ſiſter is willing,—nothing will be wanting to con⯑clude this buſineſs—If no difficulties ariſe from her—for her temper is uncertain—as to my conſent, Sir, your air, your manner have commanded it—Sir your moſt obe⯑dient—I'll ſend my ſiſter to you—

Madam,

I ſhall endeavour to re⯑pay this goodneſs with exceſs of gratitude—Oh! ſhe is an angel!—and yet, ſtupid that I am, I could not give vent to the tenderneſs I have within—it is ever ſo with ſincere and generous love; it fills the heart with rap⯑ture, and then denies the power of uttering what we ſo exquiſitely feel—Generous Miſs Harlow! who could thus ſee thro' my con⯑fuſion, interpret all appearances favourably, and with a dignity ſuperior to her ſex's lit⯑tle arts, forego the idle ceremonies of co⯑quetting, teazing, and tormenting her ad⯑mirer—I hear ſomebody.—Oh! here comes miſtreſs Harlow—what a gloom ſits upon her features!—She aſſumes authority here I find—but I'll endeavour by inſinuation and reſ⯑pect—

My ſiſter has told me, Sir—

Ma'am—

He is a ſweet figure.

She rather looks like Miſs Harlow's mo⯑ther than her ſiſter-in-law—

He ſeems abaſhed—his reſpect is the cauſe—

—My ſiſter told me, Sir, that you was here—I beg pardon for mak⯑ing you wait ſo long—

Oh, ma'am

the gloom diſappears from her face, but the lines of ill-nature remain—

I ſee he loves me by his confuſion;—I'll cheer him with affability—

—Sir, the letter you was pleaſed to ſend, my ſiſter has ſeen—and—

And has aſſured me that ſhe has no ob⯑jection—

I am glad of that, Sir—I was afraid—

No, ma'am, ſhe has none—and Mr. Harlow, I have ſeen him too—he has ho⯑noured me with his conſent—Now, ma⯑dam, the only doubt remains with you;—may I be permitted to hope—

Sir, you appear like a gentleman,—and—

Madam, believe me, never was love more ſincere, more juſtly founded on eſteem, or kindled into higher admiration.

Sir, with the reſt of the family I hold my⯑ſelf much obliged to you, and—

Obliged!—'tis I that am obliged—there is no merit on my ſide—it is the conſe⯑quence of impreſſions made upon my heart; and what heart can reſiſt ſuch beauty, ſuch various graces!—

Sir, I am afraid—I wiſh my ſiſter heard him

—Sir, I am afraid you are la⯑viſh of your praiſe; and the ſhort date of your love, Sir—

It will burn with unabating ardor—the ſame charms that firſt inſpired it, will for ever cheriſh it, and add new fuel—But I [20] preſume you hold this ſtile to try my ſince⯑rity—I ſee that's your aim—but could you read the feelings of my heart, you would not thus cruelly keep me in ſuſpenſe.

Heavens! if my ſiſter ſaw my power over him—

—A little ſuſpenſe cannot be deemed unreaſonable—Marriage is an im⯑portant affair—an affair for life—and ſome caution you will allow neceſſary—

Madam!—

—oh! I dread the ſourneſs of her look!—

I can't help obſerving, Sir, that you dwell chiefly on articles of external and ſuperficial merit; whereas the more valuable qualities of the mind, prudence, good ſenſe, a well-regulated conduct—

Oh! ma'am, I am not inattentive to thoſe matters—oh! ſhe has a notable houſehold underſtanding, I warrant her—

—but let me intreat you, madam, to do juſtice to my principles, and believe me a ſincere, a generous lover—

Sir, I will frankly own that I have been trying you all this time, and from hence⯑forth all doubts are baniſhed.

Your words recal me to new life—I ſhall for ever ſtudy to merit this goodneſs—But your fair ſiſter—do you think I can depend upon her conſent?—May I flatter myſelf ſhe will not change her mind?—

My ſiſter cannot be inſenſible of the ho⯑nour you do us all—and, Sir, as far as I can act with propriety in the affair, I will en⯑deavour to keep them all inclined to favour you—

Madam—

You have an intereſt in my breaſt that will be buſy for you—

I am eternally devoted to you, madam—

How modeſt, and yet how expreſſive he is!

Madam, I ſhall be for ever ſenſible of this extreme condeſcenſion, and ſhall think no pains too great to prove the gratitude and eſteem I bear you—I beg my compliments to Mr. Harlow, and I ſhall be here with my uncle in the evening—as early as poſſible I ſhall come—my reſpects to your ſiſter, ma'am [22] —and pray, madam, keep her in my in⯑tereſt—Madam, your moſt obedient—I have managed the motherly lady finely, I think

Madam

What will my ſiſter ſay now?—I ſhall hear no more of her taunts—A malicious thing!—I fancy ſhe now ſees that your giddy fli [...]ts are not always the higheſt beau⯑ties—Set her up, indeed!—Had ſhe but heard him, the dear man!—what ſweet things he ſaid! and what ſweet things he looked—

Well, ſiſter!—how!—what does he ſay?—

Say, ſiſter!—Every thing that is charm⯑ing—he is the prettieſt man!—

Well! I am glad of it—but all's well that ends well—

Envy, ſiſter!—Envy, and downright malice!—Oh! had you heard all the tender things he uttered, and with that extaſy too! that tenderneſs! that delight reſtrained by modeſty!—

I don't know tho'; there is ſomething odd in it ſtill—

Oh! I don't doubt but you will ſay ſo—but you will find I have beauty enough left to make ſome noiſe in the world ſtill—The men, ſiſter, are the beſt judges of female beauty—Don't concern yourſelf about it, ſiſter—Leave it all to them—

But only think of a lover you never ſaw but once at Ranelagh—

Very true!—but even then I ſaw what work I made in his heart—Oh! I am in rap⯑tures with him, and he is in raptures with me—

Yes, I'll have a huſband, ay! marry, &c.

So, ſiſter! how ſtand matters now?

As I could wiſh—I ſhall no more be a trouble to you—he has declared himſelf in the moſt warm and vehement manner—Tho' my ſiſter has her doubts—ſhe is a good friend—ſhe is afraid of my ſucceſs—

Pray, ſiſter, don't think ſo meanly of me—I underſtand that ſneer, ma'am.

And I underſtand you too, ma'am—

Come, come, I deſire we may have no quarrelling—you two are always wrangling; but when you are ſeparated, it is to be hoped you will then be more amicable. Things are now in a fair way—Tho', ſiſter, let me tell you I am afraid our India friend will think himſelf ill treated.

That's what I fear too—that's my reaſon for ſpeaking—

Oh! never throw away a thought on him.—Mr. Clerimont has my heart; and now I think I am ſettled for life—Siſter, I love to plague her—now I think I am ſettled for life—for life,—for life, my dear ſiſter—

Dinner is ſerved, Sir.

Very well! come, ſiſter, I give you joy—let us in to dinner.

Oh! vulgar!—I can't eat—I muſt go and dreſs my head over again, and do a thouſand things;—for I am determined I'll look this afternoon as well as ever I can.—

Is not all this amazing, my dear?—her head is turned—

Well, let it all paſs—don't you mind it—don't you ſay any thing—let her get mar⯑ried if ſhe can—I am ſure I ſhall rejoice at it.

And upon my word, my dear, ſo ſhall I—and if I interfere, it is purely out of friendſhip.—

But be adviſed by me,—ſay no more to her.—If the affair goes on, we ſhall fairly get rid of her—Her peeviſh humours, and her maiden temper, are become inſupporta⯑ble.—Come, let us in to dinner.—If Mr. Clerimont marries her, which indeed will be odd enough,—we ſhall then enjoy a little peace and quiet.

What in the world could the man ſee in her?—Oh! he will repent his bargain in a week or a fortnight; that I am ſure he will—ſhe is gone to dreſs now!—ha!ha!—Oh! how ſhe rolls her pretty eyes in ſpite, And looks delightfully with all her might! Ha!ha! delightfully ſhe will look indeed!

ACT II.

YES, Sir, my maſter is at home—he has juſt done dinner, Sir—

Very well then; tell him I would ſpeak a word with him.

I beg pardon, Sir; I am but a ſtranger in the family—who ſhall I ſay?—

Capt. Cape, tell him—

Yes, Sir.

I can hardly believe my own eyes—s'death! I am almoſt inclined to think this letter, ſigned with Miſs Harlow's name, a mere forgery by ſome enemy, to drive me into an exceſs of paſſion, and ſo injure us both—I don't know what to ſay to it—

Sir, I have waited on you about an extra⯑ordinary affair—I can't comprehend it, Sir— [27] Here is a letter with your ſiſter's name—Look at it, Sir,—is that her hand-writing?—

Yes, Sir—I take it to be her writing—

And do you know the contents?—

I can't ſay I have read it—but—

But you know the purport of it?

Partly.

You do?—and is not it baſe treatment, Sir?—is it not unwarrantable?—can you juſtify her?

For my part, I leave women to manage their own affairs—I am not fond of inter-meddling—

But, Sir—let me aſk you,—Was not every thing agreed upon?—Are not the writings now in lawyers hands?—Was not next week fixed for our wedding?—

I underſtood it ſo.

Very well then, and ſee how ſhe treats me—She writes me here in a contemptuous [28] manner, that ſhe recals her promiſe;—it was raſhly given;—ſhe has thought better of it; ſhe will liſten to me no more;—ſhe is going to diſpoſe of herſelf to a gentleman with whom ſhe can be happy for life—and "I deſire to ſee you no more, Sir"—There, that's free and eaſy, is not it?—What do you ſay to that?—

Why really, Sir, it is not my affair—I have nothing to ſay to it.—

Nothing to ſay to it!—Sir, I imagined I was dealing with people of honour.

You have been dealing with a woman, and you know—

Yes, I know—I know the treachery of the ſex—Who is this gentleman, pray?

His name is Clerimont—they have fixed the affair among themſelves, and amongſt them be it for me.—

Very fine! mighty fine!—is Miſs Har⯑low at home, Sir?—

She is; and here ſhe comes too—

Very well!—let me hear it from herſelf, that's all—I deſire to hear her ſpeak for her⯑ſelf—

With all my heart.—I'll leave you toge⯑ther—you know, captain, I was never fond of being concerned in thoſe things—

Capt. Cape, this is mighty odd—I thought, Sir, I deſired—

Madam, I acknowledge the receipt of your letter, and, madam, the uſage is ſo ex⯑traordinary, that I hold myſelf excuſable if I refuſe to comply with the terms you im⯑poſe upon me.—

Sir, I really wonder what you can mean—

Miſtake me not, madam; I am not come to whimper or to whine, and to make a puppy of myſelf again—Madam that is all blown over.—

Well then, there is no harm done, and you will ſurvive this I hope.

Survive it!—

Yes;—you won't grow deſperate I hope—ſuppoſe you were to order ſomebody to take care of you, becauſe you know fits of deſpair are ſudden, and you may raſhly do yourſelf a miſchief—don't do any ſuch thing, I beg you won't—

This inſult, madam!—Do myſelf a miſ⯑chief!—Madam, don't flatter yourſelf that it is in your power to make me unhappy—it is not vexation brings me hither, I aſſure you—

Then let vexation take you away;—we were never deſigned for one another.—

My amazement brings me hither—amaze⯑ment that any woman can behave—but I don't want to upbraid—I only come to aſk—for I can hardly as yet believe it—I only come to aſk if I am to credit this pretty epiſtle?—

Every ſyllable—therefore take your an⯑ſwer, Sir, and truce with your importu⯑nity.—

Very well, ma'am, very well—your humble ſervant, madam—I promiſe you, ma'am, I [31] can repay this ſcorn with ſcorn—with tenfold ſcorn, madam, ſuch as this treatment de⯑ſerves—that's all—I ſay no more—your ſer⯑vant ma'am—but let me aſk you—is this a juſt return for all the attendance I have paid you theſe three years paſt?—

Perfectly juſt, Sir,—three years!—how could you be a dangler ſo long?—I told you what it would come to—can you think that raiſing a woman's expectation, and tiring her out of all patience, is the way to make ſure of her at laſt?—you ought to have been a briſker lover, you ought indeed, Sir,—I am now contracted to another, and ſo there is an end of every thing between us.—

Very well, madam,—and yet I can't bear to be deſpiſed by her—and can you, Miſs Harlow, can you find it in your heart to treat me with this diſdain?—have you no compaſſion?—

No, poſitively none, Sir,—none—none—

Your own Capt. Cape,—whom you—

Whom I deſpiſe.—

Whom you have ſo often encouraged to adore you.—

Pray, Sir, don't touch my hand—I am now the property of another—

Can't you ſtill break off with him?

No Sir, I can't; I won't; I love him, and Sir, if you are a man of honour, you will ſpeak to me no more; deſiſt, Sir, for if you don't, my brother ſhall tell you of it, Sir, and to-morrow Mr. Clerimont ſhall tell you of it.—

Mr. Clerimont, madam, ſhall fight me, for daring—

And muſt I fight you too, moſt noble, valiant captain?—

Laughed at too!—

What a paſſion you are in!—I can't bear to ſee a man in ſuch a paſſion—Oh! I have a happy riddance of you—the violence of your temper is dreadful—I won't ſtay a mo⯑ment longer with you—you frighten me—you have your anſwer,—and ſo your ſervant Sir—

Ay! ſhe is gone off like a fury, and the furies catch her, ſay I—I will never put up [33] with this—I will find out this Mr. Cleri⯑mont, and he ſhall be accountable to me—Mr. Harlow too ſhall be accountable to me.—

Mr. Harlow—I am uſed very ill here, Sir, by all of you, and Sir, let me tell you—

Nay; don't be angry with me, Sir,—I was not to marry you—

But Sir, I can't help being angry—I muſt be angry—and let me tell you, you don't behave like a gentleman.

How can Mr, Harlow help it, Sir, if my ſiſter—

You are too warm; you are indeed, Sir,—let us both talk this matter over a bottle—

No, Sir—no bottle—over a cannon, if you will—

Mercy on me, Sir,—I beg you wont talk in that terrible manner—you frighten me, Sir.—

Be you quiet, my dear,—Capt. Cape, I beg you will juſt ſtep into that room with me; and if, in the diſpatching one bottle, I don't acquit myſelf of all ſiniſter dealing, why then—come, come, be a little mode⯑rate—you ſhall ſtep with me—I'll take it as a favour—come, come, you muſt—

I always found you a gentleman, Mr. Har⯑low, and ſo with all my heart,—I don't care if I do talk the matter over with you—

Sir, I am obliged to you—I'll ſhew you the way—

It is juſt as I foreſaw—my ſiſter was ſure of him, and now is ſhe going to break off for a young man that will deſpiſe her in a little time—I wiſh ſhe would have Capt. Cape.

Is he gone, ſiſter?—

No; and here is the deuce and all to do—he is for fighting every body—upon my word you are wrong—you don't behave gen⯑teelly in the affair.—

Genteelly!—I like that notion prodigi⯑ouſly—an't I going to marry genteelly?

Well, follow your own inclinations—I won't intermeddle any more, I promiſe you—I'll ſtep into the parlour, and ſee what they are about.

As you pleaſe, ma'am—I ſee plainly the ill-natured thing can't bear my ſucceſs—Heavens! here comes Mr. Clerimont—

You are earlier than I expected, Sir.

I have flown, madam, upon the wings of love—I have ſeen my uncle, and he will be here within this half hour—every thing ſuc⯑ceeds to my wiſhes with him—I hope there is no alteration here, madam, ſince I ſaw you—

Nothing that ſignifies, Sir—

You alarm me—Mr. Harlow has not changed his mind, I hope.

No, Sir—he continues in the ſame mind.

And your ſiſter—I tremble with doubt and fear—ſhe does not ſurely recede from the ſentiments ſhe flattered me with.

Why there, indeed, I can't ſay much—ſhe—

How!

She—I don't know what to make of her—

Oh! I am on the rack—in pity, do not torture me—

How tremblingly ſolicitous he is—Oh! I have made a ſure conqueſt

—Why, ſhe, Sir—

Ay,—

She does not ſeem entirely to approve—

You kill me with deſpair—

Oh! he is deeply ſmitten,

—She thinks another match would ſuit better—

Another match!

Yes, another; an India captain, who has made his propoſals; but I ſhall take care to ſee him diſmiſſed.

Will you?

I promiſe you I will—tho' he runs much in my ſiſter's head, and ſhe has taken pains to bring my other relations over to her opi⯑nion.

Oh! cruel, cruel!—I could not have ex⯑pected that from her—but has ſhe fixed her heart upon a match with this other gentle⯑man?

Why, truly I think ſhe has—but my will in this affair muſt be, and ſhall be conſulted.

And ſo it ought, ma'am—your long ac⯑quaintance with the world, madam—

Long acquaintance, Sir! I have but a few years experience only—

That is, your good ſenſe, ma'am—oh! con⯑found my tongue! how that ſlipt from me

—your good ſenſe,—your early good ſenſe,—and—and—inclination ſhould be con⯑ſulted.

And they ſhall, Sir—hark!—I hear her—I'll tell you what—I'll leave you this oppor⯑tunity to ſpeak to her once more, and try to win her over by perſuaſion—It will make things eaſy if you can—I am gone, Sir.

The happineſs of my life will be owing to you, Madam.—The woman is really bet⯑ter natured than I thought ſhe was—ſhe comes, the lovely tyrant comes—

She triumphs in her cruelty, and I am ruined—

You ſeem afflicted, Sir—I hope no mis⯑fortune—

The ſevereſt misfortune!—you have broke my heart—

I break your heart, Sir?—

Yes, cruel fair—you,—you have undone me.

You amaze me, Sir, pray how can I—

And you can ſeem unconſcious of the miſ⯑chief you have made—

Pray unriddle, Sir—

Madam, your ſiſter has told me all—

Ha! ha! what has ſhe told you, Sir?

It may be ſport to you—but to me 'tis death—

What is death?

The gentleman from India, madam—I have heard it all—you can give him a preference—you can blaſt my hopes—my fond delighted hopes, which you yourſelf had cheriſhed.

The gentleman is a very good ſort of man.

Oh! ſhe loves him, I ſee—

—Ma⯑dam, I perceive my doom is fixed, and fixed by you—

How have I fixed your doom?—if I ſpeak favourably of captain Cape,—he deſerves it, Sir.

Oh! heavens! I cannot bear this—

I believe there is nobody that knows the gentleman, but will give him his due praiſe—

Love! love! love!—

And beſides, his claim is in fact prior to yours.

And muſt love be governed, like the bu⯑ſineſs of mechanics, by the laws of tyrant cuſtom?—Can you think ſo, madam?

Why, Sir, you know I am not in love.

Oh! cruel!—no, madam, I ſee you are not.

And really now, Sir, reaſonably ſpeaking, my ſiſter is for treating captain Cape very ill—He has been dancing attendance here theſe three years—

Yet that you know, when you were pleaſed to fan the riſing flame, that matchleſs beauty had kindled in my heart.

Matchleſs beauty!—ha! ha!—I cannot but laugh at that—

Laugh, madam, if you will at the pangs you yourſelf occaſion—yes, triumph, if you will—I am reſigned to my fate, ſince you will have it ſo—

I have it ſo!—you ſeem to frighten your⯑ſelf without cauſe,—If I ſpeak favourably of any body elſe, Sir,—what then?—I am not to marry him, you know.

An't you?

I!—no, truly—thank heaven!—

She revives me.

That muſt be as my ſiſter pleaſes.

Muſt it?

Muſt it?—to be ſure it muſt?

And may I hope ſome intereſt in your heart.

My heart, Sir!

While it is divided, while another has poſ⯑ſeſſion of but part of it.—

I don't underſtand him!—Why, it has been given away long ago.

I pray you do not tyrannize me thus with alternate doubts and fears—if you will but bleſs me with the leaſt kind return—

Kind return! what, would you have me fall in love with you?

It will be generous to him who adores you.

Adore me!

Even to idolatry.

What can he mean?—I thought my ſiſter was the object of your adoration.

Your ſiſter, ma'am! I ſhall ever reſpect her as my friend on this occaſion, but love—no—no—ſhe is no object for that—

No!

She may have been handſome in her time,—but that has been all over long ago—

Well! this is charming—I wiſh ſhe heard him now, with her new-fangled airs,

—But let me underſtand you, Sir—adore me!—

You!—you!—and only you!—by this fair hand—

Hold, hold—this is going too far—but pray, Sir, have you really conceived a paſ⯑ſion for me?

You know I have—a paſſion of the ten⯑dereſt nature.

And was that your drift in coming hither?

What elſe could induce me?

And introduced yourſelf here, to have an opportunity of ſpeaking to me?

My angel! don't torment me thus—

Angel! and pray, Sir, what do you ſup⯑poſe Mr. Harlow will ſay to this?

Oh! ma'am—he! he approves my paſſion.

Does he really?—I muſt ſpeak to him about that—

Do ſo, ma'am, you will find I am a man of more honour than to deceive you—

Well! it will be whimſical if he does—and my ſiſter too, this will be a charming diſcovery for her,

—Ha! ha! well! really Sir, this is mighty odd—I'll ſpeak to Mr. Harlow about this matter this very moment—

Oh! you will find it all true—and may I then flatter myſelf—

Oh! to be ſure—ſuch an honourable pro⯑ject—I'll ſtep to him this moment—and then, ſiſter, I ſhall make ſuch a piece of work for you—

Very well, ma'am—ſee Mr. Harlow im⯑mediately—he will confirm it to you—while there is life there is hope—ſuch matchleſs beauty!—

I beg your pardon, Sir, for leaving you all this time—Well, what ſays my ſiſter?

She has given me ſome glimmering hopes.

Well, don't be uneaſy about her—it ſhall be as I pleaſe—

But with her own free conſent it would be better—however, to you I am bound by eve⯑ry tie, and thus let me ſeal a vow—

He certainly is a very paſſionate lover—Lord! he is ready to eat my hand up with kiſſes—I wiſh my ſiſter ſaw this—

—Huſh! I hear Capt. Cape's voice—the hi⯑deous Tramontane!—he is coming this way—I would not ſee him again for the world—I'll withdraw a moment, Sir—you'll excuſe [45] me—Mr. Clerimont—

your ſervant Sir—Oh! he is a charming man.

There ſhe goes, the perfidious! Sir, I un⯑derſtand your name is Clerimont—

At your ſervice, Sir.

Then, Sir, draw this moment.

Draw, Sir! for what?

No evaſion, Sir.

Explain the cauſe.

The cauſe is too plain—your making love to that lady who went out there this mo⯑ment—

That lady! not I, upon my honour, Sir.

No ſhuffling, Sir—draw—

Sir, I can repel an injury like this—but your quarrel is groundleſs,—and, Sir, if ever I made love to that lady, I will lay my bo⯑ſom naked to your ſword,—That lady!—I reſign all manner of pretenſion to her—

You reſign her, Sir.

Entirely.

Then I am pacified—

Upon my word, Sir, I never ſo much as thought of the lady.

So, Sir—fine doings you have been car⯑rying on here—

Sir!

You have been attempting my wife, I find—

Upon my word, Mr Harlow—

You have behaved in a very baſe manner, and I inſiſt upon ſatisfaction; draw, Sir—

This is the ſtrangeſt accident!—I aſſure you, Sir,—only give me leave—

I will not give you leave—I inſiſt—

Nay, nay, Mr. Harlow—this is neither time or place—and beſides, hear the gentle⯑man; I have been over-haſty, and he has ſatisfied me—only hear him—

Sir, I will believe my own wife—come on, Sir—

I aſſure you, Mr. Harlow, I came into this houſe upon honourable principles—in⯑duced, Sir, by my regard for Miſs Harlow—

For Miſs Harlow!—zoons, draw—

Again!—this is downright madneſs—two upon me at once—you will murder me be⯑tween you—

There is one too many upon him, ſure enough,—and ſo, captain, put up—

Reſign your pretenſions to Miſs Harlow—

Reſign Miſs Harlow!—not for the uni⯑verſe—in her cauſe I can be as ready as any bravo of ye all—

For heaven's ſake, Capt. Cape—do mode⯑rate your anger—this is neither time or place—I have been too raſh myſelf—I beg you will be pacified—

—Mr. Clerimont, ſheath your ſword—

I obey, Sir—

Capt. Cape. how can you?—you promiſed me you would let things take their courſe?—if my ſiſter will marry the gentleman, how is he to blame?—

Very well, Sir—I have done—ſhe is a worthleſs woman—that's all—

A worthleſs woman, Sir!—

Ay! worthleſs—

Damnation!—Draw, Sir!

Nay, nay, Mr. Clerimont, you are too warm—and there's a gentleman coming—this is your uncle, I ſuppoſe—

It is—

I'll wave all diſputes now, that I may con⯑clude my ſiſter's marriage.

Mr. Heartwell, Sir—Mr. Harlow, Sir.—

My nephew has informed me, Sir, of the honour you have done him, and I am come to give my conſent.

I thought it neceſſary, Sir, to have the ad⯑vice of Mr. Clerimont's friends, as he is very young, and my ſiſter not very handſome.

She is an angel, Sir—

Patience, Charles, patience.—My ne⯑phew's eſtate will provide for his eldeſt born, and upon the younger branches of his mar⯑riage I mean to ſettle my fortune.

Generouſly ſpoken, Sir, and ſo there is no occaſion for delay—who waits there?—tell the ladies they are wanting—

I have ever loved my nephew, and ſince he tells me he has made a good choice, I ſhall be glad to ſee him happy.

But, Sir, let me tell you, that your nephew has uſed me very baſely, and Sir—

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.

Now, ſiſter, you ſhall ſee I have completed my conqueſt—

Now then I am happy indeed—my lovely, charming bride—thus let me ſnatch you to my heart, and thus, and thus—

Zoons! before my face—

Prithee, indulge my tranſport—my life, my angel!—

I deſire you will deſiſt, Sir—

Nay, nay, prithee be quiet—my charm⯑ing, charming wife!—

That lady is not your wife—

How my wife,—not my wife!—extaſy and bliſs!—

Come, come, Sir—this is too much—

Ha! ha! you are very pleaſant, Sir.

Zoons! Sir, no trifling—that lady is my wife—

Sir!

I ſay, Sir, that lady is my wife!

Ha! ha! I ſee through this—it is a co⯑medy of errors, I believe—

What does all this mean?

Your wife, Sir!—

Yes, my wife—and there is my ſiſter, if you pleaſe to take her—

Sir!—

Sir, this is the lady whom you have de⯑ſired in marriage.

Who I, Sir?—I beg your pardon—that lady I took to be your wife

—and that lady

I took to be your ſiſter—

Ha! ha! ha!—

Lord! lord! have I been made a fool of all this time!—furies! torture! murder!—

Ha! ha!—my lady fair is taken in, I think—

Siſter, the men don't ſee with my eyes—ha! ha!

Ha! ha! the gentleman is no dangler, ma'am.—

This is a complete conqueſt my ſiſter has made—

I can't bear this—Sir, I deſire I may not be made a jeſt of—did not you ſollicit me?—importune me?—

For your intereſt in that lady, ma'am,—whom I took for Miſs Harlow—I beg your [52] pardon if I am miſtaken,—I hope there is no harm done.—

Yes, Sir, but there is harm done—I am made ſport of—expoſed to deriſion—Oh! I cannot bear this—I cannot bear it—

Don't cry, ſiſter—ſome faces preſerve the bloom longer than others you know—ha! ha!

Loll toll loll—

I don't underſtand all this—is that lady your wife, Sir?

She is, Sir.

And pray, nephew—you took that lady for Mr. Harlow's ſiſter, I ſuppoſe—

I did, Sir.—I beg pardon for the trouble I have given—I am in ſuch confuſion, I can hardly—

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—

Why faith, nor I—ha! ha!

Since matters have turned ſo unexpected⯑ly, I beg pardon for my miſtake, and Sir, I take my leave—

And will you treat me in this manner, Sir? will you draw me into ſuch a ſcrape, and not—

Ma'am, 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.

You are a baſe man then, and I reject you—Capt. Cape I ſee my error, Sir, and I reſign myſelf to you.

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, ma'am—I won't do myſelf a miſ⯑chief—and I have my anſwer—I am off, madam—loll toll loll—

Ha! ha! I told you this, my dear ſiſter—

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, ma'am—angelic creature!—what a misfortune to loſe her!—

And I will follow his example—Miſs Har⯑low I wiſh you all happineſs,—angelic crea⯑ture! what a misfortune to loſe her!—upon my ſoul I think you a moſt admirable [...], and ſo now you may go, and bewail your virgi⯑nity in the mountains—loll toll loll—

Oh! oh! I can't bear to be treated in this manner—I'll go and hide myſelf from the world for ever—Oh! oh!—the men are all ſavages, barbarians, monſters, and I hate the whole ſex—Oh! oh!—

My dear ſiſter, with her beauty and her conqueſts, ha! ha!—

Ha! ha! very whimſical and ridiculous—

Sir, my nephew is young—I am ſorry for this ſcene of errors, and I hope you will aſcribe the whole to his inexperience—

I certainly ſhall, Sir—

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.