[]

THE SCHOOL FOR GUARDIANS.

A COMEDY.

As it is Performing at the THEATRE-ROYAL in COVENT-GARDEN.

—Sabitum, et miſerabile, longum Attendit Thymele; Thymele tune ruſtica diſcit. JUV.

LONDON: Printed for P. VAILLANT, in the Strand. MDCCLXVII.

[Price One Shilling and Six Pence.]

ADVERTISEMENT.

[]

THE following play was written above three years ago, and was ſoon after ſhewn to ſome of the principal performers of both houſes. It took its riſe from Miſs ELLIOT'S being adviſed to revive The Country Wife for her benefit the firſt ſeaſon of her engagement at Covent-Garden theatre. That play, upon a review of it, appeared inadmiſſible on account of the obſcenity which diſcolours the whole. The author, or rather the compiler of the enſuing ſcenes, undertook to alter WYCHERLEY's play for Miſs ELLIOT againſt the following winter; but hearing, in the mean time, that Mr. BICKERSTAFF had employed himſelf upon one of WYCHERLEY's pieces, he made it his buſineſs to ſee that gentleman, leſt this writer ſhould interfere with a plan already pre-occupied. He found that the PLAIN DEALER had been Mr. BICKERSTAFF's object, and that there was no danger of claſhing with the ſcheme of any other author. Upon a cloſer examination, therefore, of The Country Wife, it was thought proper to deſert it intirely, and to reſort to MOLIERE, the original maſter whom WYCHERLEY copied. The celebrated comedy of L'Ecole de Femmes appeared too thin of buſineſs, conſiſting moſtly in narrative. To ſupply that deficiency the deſign occurred of making MOLIERE himſelf ſupply the requiſite materials; and for this purpoſe L'ETOURDIE and L'Ecole DE MARIS were called in as auxiliaries. Upon this idea the play was ſoon finiſhed, and it conſiſts of characters, ſituations, and buſineſs, from thoſe three plays, interwoven into one fable, with as much ſkill as a little leiſure in the ſummer time would permit. With the profeſſed deſign of condenſing what appeared to be the beſt of three performances into one play, it was deemed unneceſſary to ſuppreſs any one ſcene of true nature, merely becauſe the author of High Life below Stairs, and ſome other Engliſh writers, might occaſionally be tracked in the ſnow of Moliere.

[]The play, when finiſhed, was given to Miſs ELLIOT, and it ſo happened, that ſhe had no opportunity of producing it till this ſeaſon. When in September laſt, her bargain both for herſelf and the play was in agitation with Mr. BEARD, the author of theſe ſheets was aſtoniſhed to hear that The Country Girl was actually in rehearſal at Drury Lane, and that the parts had been given out in the ſummer, nay, as faſt as they were written. This, it muſt not be diſſembled, looked like a deſign of foreſtalling the market; eſpecially as it was underſtood, that Miſs ELLIOT and the SCHOOL FOR GUARDIANS, had been offered the ſpring before to the manager of Drury Lane, upon his own terms. A remonſtrance was immediately made to Mr. GARRICK, purporting that he, who had long been a manager of a ſucceſsful theatre, was going to enter into a competition with a young actreſs for the profits of a play. A meeting enſued, where a gentleman of the firſt character for probity and genius, was ſo obliging as to be the arbitrator. Mr. GARRICK there proteſting, that he never heard of Miſs ELLIOT's play till within a few days; it was thereupon determined, that it was, in that caſe, an accidental claſhing, but that a deſign of foreſtalling would have been illiberal and unhandſome. This laſt point of honour Mr. GARRICK ſeemed to learn upon this occaſion.

Both parties were, in conſequence, left to purſue their own intereſts. And now the preſent writer will diſmiſs THE SCHOOL FOR GUARDIANS, after ſaying, that he compoſed it with the moſt diſintereſted principle; and that, if it prove in any degree conducive to the ſervice of a young actreſs, or the public entertainment, he has all the reward he ever propoſed to himſelf.

N. B. An entire ſcene in the ſecond act, page 30. has been omitted ſince the firſt repreſentation, and would have been diſcarded from this edition, but that the greateſt part of the play was printed, before it was acted.

PROLOGUE.

[]
MAY I intrude upon your patience for a minute?
Ladies and gentlemen, before the opening of the play,
Juſt to excuſe an accident, which, I hope has no miſchief in it,
I fain, if you'll permit, a word or two would ſay.
I hope you'll not be angry; but we've got no prologue for to night;
And ſo I thought it was beſt to come and tell ye all the truth downright.
I went to Mr. Poet, and I ſpoke to him all I could,
But he ſaid he had not leiſure, tho' I know it's in his power if he would.
"A prologue, ma'am," ſays he!—"Yes, Sir, a prologue if you pleaſe."
And then I did ſo entreat the man, and beg, and pray, and teaze.
I told him, "You know, Sir, what a miſerable plight we all are in,
To frown upon the performers, when pit, box, and gallery begin;
Whu—go the catcalls—dub—dub—dub—each dreadful critick's ſtick
Prólog'— throw him over—won't ye ha ſome orange chips—Prólôgué—Cries o' London—Muſick!"
All this and more I ſaid, but he, determin'd ſtill,
In formal fuſtian thus declar'd his will.
"Oft have I tried"
[ſeems puzzled]
—ſomething about his ſtile,
And how he felt the Town's indulgent ſmile.
"Were I again to try my ſcanty vein,
I'd beg protection for the feeble ſtrain.
But then to ſue—he paus'd and rubb'd his head—
To ſue—when fam'd MOLIERE the ſtage doth tread,
Were to prophane the manes of the dead.
MOLIERE, of old, and ſtill with rapture ſeen,
Was legiſlator of the comic ſcene.
To bid his SIMPLE GIRL aſſert the ſtage,
And if ſhe pleaſes, ſtrive to mend the age,
This was my motive;—this my only aim;
Heedleſs of gain!—no candidate for fame!
[]An audience will weigh all in equal ſcales,
For juſtice, and not party, there prevails."
Thus ſpoke Mr.Poet, and then with long ſteps march'd away;
And now I am left alone to apologize for offering you this night's play.
We'll ſtrive to make you laugh, if our aim be not perverted;
Pray, how d'ye find yourſelves?—Are ye in good humour, and willing to be diverted?
If you approve,
The Roſtiad Scribbler then no more I'll dread,
Who points his malice at a woman's head!
Who drop by drop his venom doth diſtil,
While MOTHER-DULLNESS guides the hireling's quill.
Lull'd in her lap, ſtrange wonders he deſcries,
And TERENCE ſeems—a Frenchman to his eyes!
From thence he iſſues ſoul decrees on plays,
Adorns with ſcandal, and lampoons with praiſe.
One ſmile from you defeats the ſland'rer's aim;
His calumny, like your APPLAUSE, is fame.
From your applauſe our mimic glories riſe;
In pleaſing you my whole ambition lies.

EPILOGUE.

Spoken by MISS ELLIOT.
LAdies, your ſervant—Servant, gentlemen all—
The ſame good folks to you—both great and ſmall.
Here's MARY ANN again:—but that an't fair,
To jeer a ſimple girl you might forbear.
Who knows, ſince married,—tho' you laugh and gaze,
But MARY ANN may learn your London ways?
May ape your faſhions, ſince you've ſhewn her how,
And drop the maſk at once—as I do now.
Thus you behold,—whatever the condition,
To new extremes how eaſy the tranſition.
'Tis ſo thro'life:—to town from country fairs
The clown comes up, and gapes, and laughs, and ſtares!
Give him a liv'ry,—whims unknown before!
He learns his maſter's follies to do o'er;
He drinks,— [...]u [...]s coxcomb, and betts five to four.
[]
Pray, may I, ladies, touch your modiſh life,
And ſhew good ſenſe and faſhion there at ſtrife?
"Oh! do Miſs Elliot, ſays a prude with ſpite,
Pull'em to pieces; bring their faults to light;
Pulling to pieces is my dear delight."
Why then each fair one ſeems a diff'rent creature
From what ſhe's meant, and traveſties her nature.
Proud of defects, FLIRTILLA ſwims along,
Politely weak, and elegantly wrong.
Thro' the gay round of time her only care
To fix the patch, and guide a ſtraggling hair.
Lady CAMILLA, form'd to ſeize the rein,
To rival John, and ſmack along the plain;
In London ſickens with diſſembled airs,
And "help me—help me up theſe odious ſtairs."
Nature's beſt gifts we all with pride diſclaim;
We liſp, we totter, deaf, and blind, and lame.
The tongue indeed we women ne'er confine;
—Scandal's too dear a pleaſure to reſign.
Scandal, and cards, tea, mirth, and ſpleen, a ball,
Comus!—the monkey too!—and there's the life of'all.
A life of whim!—till from ſhe faded eye,
And wither'd form, the trembling graces fly.
There's a true picture!—how do ye like it, ladies?
How is the light? and how do ye think the ſhade is?
A copy hence our ſimple girl may make;
Unleſs ſhe ſhould this wiſer counſel take,
Be rul'd by reaſon for your beauty's ſake.
Reaſon ſtill gives to radiant eyes their grace,
Warren's imperial milk—for ev'ry face.
Beauty, ye fair, may forge the lover's chain;
But the mind's charms your empire muſt maintain.
[]
[...]
[]
[...]

Dramatis Perſonae.

[]
  • SIR THEODORE BRUMPTON, Mr. WALKER.
  • YOUNG BRUMPTON, Mr. WOODWARD.
  • BELLFORD, Mr. SMITH.
  • OLDCASTLE, Mr. SHUTER.
  • LOVIBOND, Mr. DUNSTALL.
  • BRISK, Mr. DYER.
  • PETER, Mr. MORGAN.
  • MARY ANN, Miſs ELLIOT.
  • HARRIET, Miſs WILFORD.
  • BRIDGET, Mrs. MAHON.

Scene LONDON.

THE School for Guardians, A COMEDY.

[]

ACT I.

Enter Sir Theodore, and Brumpton.
Sir Theodore.

BUT I won't be told; I won't reaſon about it; I won't be anſwered; I won't hear a word.

Brumpton.

I have done, Sir—you have proved it to demonſtration, by the ſame ſort of logick that was uſed by one of the wits of Charles the lld's. time to his dog, when he was too lazy to beat him, "I wiſh you well married, and ſettled in the country"—

Sir Theodore.

There again now; don't enrage me; I have ſome whimſical humours about me, that let me tell you, Sir—and I can be very peremptory, if I pleaſe—What? when my neighbour Strickland and I have agreed the matter!—a young lady with a fair fortune in hand, and ſeven hundred a year in expectancy, as pretty a reverſion as any in Hampſhire!— and am I now to be told, "She does not ſuit my taſte,—ſhe is not handſome?" and ſo I am to be [2] waſting my breath with you, about a complection, a noſe, and a lip!—

Brumpton.

If you would but leave thoſe matters to me, Sir—

Sir Theodore.

But I tell you no; I won't leave thoſe matters to you—Beauty is the laſt thing I deſire to ſee in my family—Your mother, peace be to her, was as ugly a woman as you ſhall ſee in a ſummer's day; and what do you think I married her for?— for your good, Sir—for the good of my children—

Brumpton.

And pray, Sir, which of ye does this ſide-box face of mine take after?

Sir Theodore.

You ſhall take nothing after me, that you may depend upon, unleſs you prove obedient to my will and pleaſure.—I'll not leave you a foot of land—

Brumpton.

I hope you'll live to enjoy it yourſelf, Sir—

Sir Theodore.

I'll give my fortune to found a new college, where it is not wanted—

Brumpton.

I hope you'll live to enjoy it yourſelf, Sir.

Sir Theodore.

I'll cut you off with a ſhilling to buy you an halter—

Brumpton.

I hope you'll live to enjoy it yourſelf, Sir—

Sir Theodore.

I hope I ſhall, tho' you ſay it with a ſort of a dry look between juſt and earneſt—But don't talk to me of beauty again; I never knew any good come of it; beauty is like fine fruit, only fit to draw a parcel of flies about it—

Brumpton.

And ſo I muſt ſet my teeth on edge with crab-tree apples—But where would be the harm, Sir, if purely for the good of my family, I were to marry a lady of ſome ſhare of beauty, only juſt to croſs the ſtrain a little, and ſettle a ſhape and a feature upon the iſſue of our marriage?

Sir Theodore.

Settle your wife's fortune upon 'em—Look ye, Sir;—my purſe ſtrings will never open,— [3] not a ſhilling of my money ſhall you touch, till you pay your reſpects to Miſs Strickland—now you know my reſolution—What a graceleſs look there is! ruin yourſelf if you will—follow your own courſes, Sir,—

Exit.
Brumpton.

Your moſt obedient very humble ſervant, Sir,—you may depend that—I ſhall chuſe for myſelf—Briſk! why don't you anſwer, ſirrah!—Why Briſk!—

Enter Briſk.
Brumpton.

We have been pretty handſomely lectured here this morning, Briſk!—

Briſk.

Yes, Sir, we have had wherewithal to edify by—I ſuppoſe, we ſhall lie at Tom Tilbury's at Bagſhot to-night, Sir—

Brumpton.

Where?

Briſk.

Tom Tilbury's, Sir—only juſt to break the neck of our journey, for I ſuppoſe now, you'll drop all thoughts of this other lady—I forget her name—Ay! miſs Mary Ann Richley—She has no chance now, I reckon, Sir—

Brumpton.

Why, you ſenſeleſs numſkull!—as ſure as I am Charles Brumpton, Eſq ſhe ſhall be Mrs. Brumpton; and upon the death of my very good father, ſhe'll be a baronet's lady, that's all—

Briſk.

And yet there is ſome truth in what Sir Theodore ſays—Beauty is but a frail periſhable ſort of a commodity; and if you are diſinherited for it, the lady's charms will not pay your poor ſervant, Briſk, his board-wages; a feature, or a ſmile can't go to market; a pawn-broker will lend nothing upon the tip of an ear: though indeed ſhe may mortgage her perſon; but that I take it will be for her own advantage; we ſhall get nothing but a comely pair of horns by it, Sir, with ſubmiſſion—

Brumpton.

Why you talk a frothy kind of nothing at a tolerable rate, Briſk—

Briſk.
[4]

I have ſhewn you one ſide of the medal, now behold the reverſe, Sir—When you marry an ugly woman, there is no great pleaſure in beholding her, and to be ſure when you look at her, you'll be apt to murmur to yourſelf—for all purpoſes of joy one may cut as deſirable an object out of an old tapeſtry-hanging—but then the woman has ſome valuable parchments, ſuch as leaſes, bonds, and mortgages; and I, Sir, ſhall live in tolerable plight with you, which to ſo good a maſter—

Brumpton.

Leave prating, ſirrah, and do as I ordered you—put on your farmer's dreſs, go directly to the object I adore—let her know you are come from her guardian in the country, and have his orders to take her home under your care—convey her ſafe to my arms, and I ſhall reward you—

Briſk.

But, Sir—

Brumpton.

No arguing with me—about it ſtreight—

Briſk.

You know how many blanketings and blows I have ſuffered in your ſervice, Sir—

Brumpton.

Sirrah, no words—go and ſee who's at the door—

Briſk.

You have marred many an excellent plot of mine, Sir—you know you cannot help meddling, when I undertake a ſcheme—If you'll promiſe me, Sir, not to—

Brumpton.

Will you ſee who's at the door?

Briſk.

I am gone, Sir—

Exit.
Brumpton.

Ha! ha!—I ſhall moſt certainly carry her off—How Sir Theodore will be aſtoniſhed when he finds ſhe is an heireſs!—Ha! ha!—it is the pleaſanteſt adventure—

Enter Belford.
Belford.

Brumpton, good morrow!—always in ſpirits, I ſee.

Brumpton.

My dear Belford, nothing depreſſes my ſpirits—though you thought they were too high laſt night, and were for letting me a little blood. Death! [5] man, you make nothing of diſplaying an ell of ſwordblade in defence of your miſtreſs's top-knot.

Belford.

Why you know I love too tenderly to bear the teſt of raillery—it is the infirmity of my temper; why would you put me to it?—

Brumpton.

And you that know my turn of mind, why would you be angry with me?—I am happily a follower of the laughing philoſopher—

Belford.

Po! prithee, man, don't be ſuch a coxcomb.—

Brumpton.

Prithee, don't you be ſo moroſe, ſo ſour, ſo diſcontented a ſpirit—But if in your phraſe I am a coxcomb, with all my heart, i'faith: but take this along with you—what you mean as a term of reproach, I receive as a compliment to the materials nature has been pleaſed to compound in this happy frame of mine—

Belford.

Po! Po! running on at the old rate—If ſelf-applauſe be philoſophy, you have a comfortable ſhare.

Brumpton.

I have, Sir, and while my happineſs is preſerved by it, keep you the gravity and good ſenſe, that make you too refined to be pleaſed, too wiſe to be merry, and too knowing to be contented.—I am in a fair way to be ſucceſsful, without any trouble at all;—you are likely to be moſt ſcurvily diſappointed after a world of pains—An humble bow, which my dancing-maſter taught me, while I laughed at him, a faſhionable coat, for which, if my taylor is ever paid he will laugh at me,—an intriguing ſnuff-box,— and an apt valet de chambre, all theſe make love for me, and—.

Belford.

And you aſſume the merit of the conqueſt—

Brumpton.

Oh! yes, when the trouble is over, I take the reward.—Did you ever know a general officer, who, when the horſe and the foot, and the right and left wing have carried the day for him, did not claim to himſelf both the honour and the booty? [6] But you make a toil of a pleaſure—love, which to me is a ſcene of delight, to you is a drudgery; your temper grows as ſour, as a prude's when the ſermon is long; and as hot as a Welſhman's, if you laugh at his pedigree; or a profeſſed ſharper's, if you doubt his honour, after he has cogged the dice, and picked your pocket of your money.

Belford.

Why I own I am piqued and naturally. If any friend of mine, out of mere ſpleen, ſpeak detractingly of the perſon I admire: it were baſe infidelity in love not to defend her, when ſhe is diſparaged—my every thought is dedicated to her.—Abſent I ſee her, hear her, and my imagination gloats for ever on her charms.

Brumpton.

And you are ſo eaſily alarmed, that little difficulties are the Alps and Pireneans in your way—Now my faith in theſe matters removes mountains—But indeed in all things we are oppoſite characters—If a tradeſman brings you in a bill and preſſes for payment, ‘'Sdeath! does the ſcoundrel doubt my honour? does he mean to affront me?’—Now I, when my father ſuffered me to be arreſted, went cheerfully into confinement, and diverted myſelf for three weeks together with the bum-bailiff's character—In the buſineſs of our ſofter paſſions, the ſame humour purſues us—you write ſtudied letters to your Dulcinea, I am written to;—you ſigh, I ſing;—you fret I am gay;—you, upon a diſappointment, ‘Furies, death, and rage—there is no enduring this—life is grown a burden—damnation!’ I burſt into a laugh, and what a whimſical world we live in—ha! ha!—But come, I will hear your melancholy ſtory,—Well, the old dragon I ſuppoſe watches the Heſperian fruit.

Belford.

He does, Sir—he keeps her locked up as a miler does his gold, not to be made uſe of till his death, and then to fall into hands that won't know the value of it—Its love's laſt ſhift with me; ſhe is inacceſſible, and her guardian, old Lovibond, propoſes to marry her himſelf.

Brumpton.
[7]

And ſo, like the tyrant of old, intends to tack a living and dead body together.

Belford.

Even ſo—my dear Brumpton, there ſhould be an act of parliament to hinder theſe old fellows from ſtopping the propagation of the ſpecies.

Brumpton.

You are too hard upon 'em—they are ſeldom guilty of that miſchief;—I have known 'em have twins at a birth; that is, when ſome ſuch coxcomb as myſelf gives them a helping hand;—and then the old fellow cocks his hat upon it, and totters about ſo vigorouſly, wondering how the babes reſemble him in every particular; whilſt the mother knows, that ſhe followed the example of the Grecian painter, and took a feature from every one of her acquaintance.—If he prevents your marrying her, take your revenge that way.

Belford.

Prophanation!—her virtue, Sir—beſides the world could never repair the loſs—her heart I am ſure is mine—I uſed to viſit there—but now no admittance; an evidence on the crown ſide in a meſſenger's hands is not better ſecured.

Brompton.

Now my buſineſs goes on without any trouble or difficulty. My old dragon is in the country, and has left his fair ward, the ſweeteſt girl, my dear Belford.

Belford.

You deſcribed her yeſterday but few removes from a downright idiot.

Brumpton.

Pardon me—ſhe is ſimple indeed—But ſuch a ſimplicity!—It juſt ſerves to ſhew that injuſtice has been done her in her education, but in her every turn ſhe gives ſuch tokens of ſenſibility!—She has beauty without knowing it;—certain wild graces, rather than accompliſhments, and talents inſtead of ſenſe.

Belford.

Po! Po!—a mere ruſtic beauty.

Brumpton.

There now, derogating from her merit, and yet I am calm!—the truth is ſhe has been brought up in the country, and wickedly kept in ignorance, [8] that ſhe might fall an eaſy prey to her guardian—But I have raiſed a ſpirit in her.

Belford.

And how the devil did you gain acceſs to her?

Brumpton.

I was going to tell you—Old Neſtor's out of town, and has left her in the care of the two verieſt ſimpletons that ever whiſtled for want of thought at a country fair—But gold, Sir, gold, that ſpeaks all languages, and adapts itſelf to all capacities, has pleaded moſt eloquently for me—But, come, I poſitively muſt leave you.

Belford.

Nay, if it muſt be ſo—

Brumpton.

My dear Belford, Cupid direct your arrows—

I ſee her every day, and all the day,
And every day is ſtill but as the firſt,
So eager am I ſtill to ſee her more.
Exeunt.
SCENE a Street.
Enter Lovibond and Oldcaſtle.
Lovibond.

And but this moment returned, Mr. Oldcaſtle!

Oldcaſtle.

Juſt this moment ſtepped out of the machine—

Lovibond.

Well! and now I ſuppoſe you have prudently laid aſide all thoughts of matrimony.

Oldcaſtle.

Ha! you are a comical man, brother Lovibond,—I have taken my meaſures; to-morrow makes me a bridegroom, and my fair ward Miſs Mary Ann, a bride—

Lovibond.

And a little time will make you—

Oldcaſtle.

Happy—tho', by that ſignificant look, you have your doubts.

Lovibond.

I have Sir—I have a ſhrewd gueſs that—

Oldcaſtle.

Then you'll be out in your gueſs—

Lovibond.

I wiſh your horns a'n't out firſt—

Oldcaſtle.
[9]

Well ſaid, and without any apprehenſion for yourſelf; you are ſtill determined to marry Mary Ann's ſiſter Harriet I ſuppoſe.

Lovibond.

That's quite another buſineſs; what I do, is no rule for your actions—

Oldcaſtle.

It is as I ever ſaid—each man is ſtill looking at the hump upon his neighbour's back, but never thinks of caſting an eye over his own ſhoulder—I warrant me now you, in your grand climacteric, will tell me I am old—

Lovibond.

Full ten years before me in the race of life—beſides, you are an old batchelor;—a ſtranger to the ways of wedlock—I am enured to the ſervice—your ſiſter, Mr. Oldcaſtle, could have told you what a deſperate good huſband I was—But, lack a day!— you begin late—mercy on your forehead, ſay I, mercy on your forehead!—

Oldcaſtle.

Ha! ha! how blind ſome people are when they have taken a thing in their heads!—ha! ha!

Lovibond.

Well! well! laugh on—but you that have been for ever a cenſor of your neighbours, for ever fleering and jibing at the married life—

Oldcaſtle.

And a pleaſant topic it is!—Why matrimony affords a little comedy in every family one knows—But the education I have given Mary Ann—

Lovibond.

Is the worſt in the world—

Oldcaſtle.

The very beſt!—I have trained her up in plain ſimplicity—woman's wit teems with contrivances to diſgrace her huſband—yet you would educate Harriet in this profligate town!—

Lovibond.

Ay, and I have taught her to know right from wrong.—

Oldcaſtle.

Right from wrong! you have ruined the girl—have not you indulged her in every whimſy this fertile town affords?

Lovibond.

I have ſhewn her the world—

Oldcaſtle.

Have not you carried her to plays?

Lovibond.

To ſee folly ridiculed—

Oldcaſtle.
[10]

To profligate comedies?

Lovibond.

The ſtage is the ſchool of virtue—

Oldcaſtle.

The ſchool of ſin and impudence!

Lovibond.

Where vice undergoes the laſh of ſatire—

Oldcaſtle.

Where vice is made alluring, provoking—

Lovibond.

Where young ladies may learn—

Oldcaſtle.

The uſe of dark-cloſets, back-ſtairs, and ladders of rope.

Lovibond.

Where they may learn to put on the veil of modeſty.

Oldcaſtle.

To put on the breeches, and eſcape from their guardians!—

Lovibond.

Where they are taught to reſpect grey-headed authority!

Oldcaſtle.

To make a cuckold of authority!—I know the ways of 'em all!—their cards, routs, operas, Soho-aſſemblies, all contrivances to excite curioſity, kindle deſire, prompt inclination, and ſend 'em all dancing a jig to deſtruction.

Lovibond.

Common-place invective!—Harriet will know how to avoid—

Oldcaſtle.

She will know how to deceive you—

Lovibond.

She will have too much honour —

Oldcaſtle.

She will have too much wit—now Mary Ann has no wild notions, and of courſe no dangerous curioſity.

Lovibond.

Her curioſity is to come—ſhe'll fall a prey to the firſt powdered coxcomb that bows to her—

Oldcaſtle.

Her ſimplicity will preſerve her—

Lovibond.

But when the ſerpents of this town begin to whiſper in her ear—

Oldcaſtle.

They'll have no opportunity—She is ſnug in a little box of an houſe, which I have taken in the name of Mr. Biddulph. I have another lodging in my own name, where I do buſineſs.—Nobody will ſee her; and when the nine day's wonder is over, [11] I ſhall pack off to the country, and ſo eſcape from impertinence.

Lovibond.

Well! well!—I can't but laugh at your ſyſtem of education! ha! ha!—Marry her if you will;—and then on account of your age and infirmities, you may do the buſineſs of your office by deputy—Ha! ha! a plan of ſimplicity!

Oldcaſtle.

Brother Lovibond, a good day to you—I wiſh you ſucceſs—Ha! ha! a town-education for a young girl!—

Exit.
Lovibond alone.

Ha! ha! poor man tottering to bed to a young wife—I'll go home to my own Harriet—

Enter Belford.
Belford.

'Sdeath and confuſion! my dull brain can deviſe nothing—hey! is not that old Argus Centoculi with all his eyes out?—Mr. Lovibond,—a ſight of you—what have you been out of town?

Lovibond.

No, the builders are carrying the town out of town I think, and ſo, a body need not move out of London for country air—

Belford.

How charmingly you look!

Lovibond.

What you call a green old age—I am not like the young rakes about this town, who decay in their prime, and are fourſcore at five and twenty.

Belford.

Ay! you have lived upon the intereſt of your conſtitution, and have not out-run the principal—I have had the honour of knocking at your door ſeveral times—

Lovibond.
[aſide.]

I know it—

Belford.

But no body at home—

Lovibond.
[aſide.]

I know that too—

Belford.

I want to loſe a little more money to you at back-gammon—

Lovibond.

I have left it off—

Belford.
[12]

Well! well! I'll come and eat a bit of mutton with you—How ſtand you for to-day?

Lovibond.

What an hurry he is in?

[aſide]

I have an unlucky engagement—

Belford.

Well! I'll take a morſel of ſupper—

Lovibond.

Well puſhed!

[aſide.]

I have left off ſuppers—

Belford.

So beſt—I'll be with you at breakfaſt in the morning—

Lovibond.

I have taken to breakfaſting at the coffee-houſe—One meets with very ſenſible people at the coffee-houſe, and hears men praiſed for being out of place, and abuſed for being in place,—and a huge deal of news, that's very entertaining in the morning; and all a damned lie in the evening.—Your ſervant—

Belford.

But the fair Miſs Harriet—how does ſhe do?

Lovibond.

There he has touched the right ſtring at laſt

[aſide]

I'll let her know how kind you are.

going.
Belford.

Nay, don't fly ſo ſoon—I am to give you joy, I hear—you are to make Miſs Harriet happy, I underſtand.

Lovibond.

Oh! no; they talk at random—

Belford.

Yes, yes; come, you have taught her all her accompliſhments, and are now to teach her the art of love—ha! ha! Mr. Lovibond—

Lovibond.

I profeſs no ſuch thing.

going.
Belford.

Yes, yes, come—ſhall I dance at your wedding—you'll truſt her with me in a country dance, and ſee that lovely boſom heave in ſweet diſorder, and riſe as if it wooed your hand to touch it, e'er it fails again—

Lovibond.

Ha! ha!—you talk looſely—

Belford.

Then when muſick wakens every gentler paſſion, and the ſprightly romping has called forth all her bloom; then you'll lead her off, conſenting trembling, doubting, bluſhing—

Lovibond.

Ha! ha! ha!

Belford.
[13]

Ha! ha!—come, I'll go and dine with you—"The world muſt be peopled, you know"— Ha! ha! ha!

Exeunt together laughing.
Enter Oldcaſtle.
Oldcaſtle.

Well! well! let him be obſtinate, if he will—I muſt ſtep, and ſee how Mary Ann has fared theſe ten days, ſince I have been in the country.—Let me ſee, what's o'clock?—

Enter Brumpton.
Brumpton.

How her old gaoler will look when he returns to town, and finds ſhe has broke priſon! I ſhall be deemed the very Machiavel of intrigue!—Hey! is not that Mr. Oldcaſtle?—

Oldcaſtle.

Mr. Brumpton!—I rejoice to ſee you—

Brumpton.

My dear friend, you are come in the very criſis of my fate, in that dear extatic moment, when to the natural vivacity of a gay, giddy temper like mine, ten thouſand circumſtances conſpire to lift me to the upper regions of delight, which, together with the felicity of encountering the only man in the world, that—I muſt take breath—I am faint with bliſs—it is too much—

Oldcaſtle.

Ay! your fever is pretty high, I ſee—recover your ſenſes a little—and tell me at your leiſure what is this mighty buſineſs—

Brumpton.

Oh! buſineſs of ſuch a nature—the Gods are now in council upon it,—I expect Mercury every moment in the ſhape of my man Briſk, to let me know that the nectared ſweets that dwell upon the lips of a certain lady are intended for a wild unthinking coxcomb, as the world is pleaſed to call me—

Oldcaſtle.

To be ſure—you are in requeſt among the ladies, no doubt—Now will he lie like an attorney's clerk

[aſide]

You are going to help ſome worthy gentleman to an heir to his eſtate, I warrant me—

Brumpton.
[14]

I have done ſome ſervice in that way; but the truth is, I am now going to help my father to a grandſon.

Oldcaſtle.

Going to be married!—

Brumpton.

This day may perhaps crown my joys—ſome certain fumblers at this end of the town, who were a little alarmed at the proportions of this leg, intend to light their windows upon it; the court of aldermen are preparing all demonſtrations of joy; and their unhappy wives are going into deep mourning upon the occaſion!—

Oldcaſtle.

The ſame confident fop he ever was! well, and my friend Sir Theodore, what ſays he to all this?

Brumpton.

You know his way; the ſame old crabed humour—he has made a match for me elſewhere with one that—I would not deny the lady her merit—ſhe preſerves pickles well, and is a very notable keeper of accounts—the woman will do very well of a long winter's evening to ſay, Bleſs you when you ſneeze—but—

Oldcaſtle.

She has a fortune, I preſume—

Brumpton.

Does not want acres—

Oldcaſtle.

And you prefer one without any

Brumpton.

You miſtake me! ſhe's an heireſs; it is not clear that ſhe is of age, but as ſoon as ſhe comes to years of diſcretion—

Oldcaſtle.

Then ſhe may play the fool as faſt as ſhe will—

Brumpton.

By chuſing me, you think, ſhe will give a ſpecimen of her folly.—Ha! ha! I have paſſed many hours with her of late; ſhe is beautiful as an angel—Now, my dear Sir, you can do me the moſt eſſential ſervice—you have great influence over Sir Theodore,—I dare not break this matter to him myſelf, but a word from you—

Oldcaſtle.

And has ſhe really an eſtate?

Brumpton.

A very fine one;—a large number of acres, and a coal-pit upon one of the manors—

Oldcaſtle.
[15]

I profeſs I like your taſte—ha! ha! The coal-pit whitens her ſkin, and ſhe may hereafter wear a few of her own acres in each ear—I will ſee my old friend about this, and will poſitively promote your welfare.—He ſhall agreee to it, and—But how did you bring this about, pray?

Brumpton.

An old way that I have—I came, ſaw, and conquered—I ſaw her at her window—ſuch blooming ſweetneſs! Her eyes were through my heart at once—love inſpired me with due courage—

Oldcaſtle.

That was right—a bold ſtroke for a wife—

Brumpton.

I drank tea with her the very next evening—I muſt indeed admit, that her underſtanding is not the moſt accompliſhed—

Oldcaſtle.

So beſt—never marry a wit—

Brumpton.

She is at preſent rather in a ſtate of ignorance; but from thoſe blue eyes ſhe occaſionally darts ſuch glances, as beſpeak a mind ſuſceptible of the higheſt refinement.

Oldcaſtle.

Where does ſhe live?

Brumpton.

In the very next ſtreet—

Oldcaſtle.

What that ſtreet there?

Brumpton.

Yes, that—under the care of the verrieſt muck-worm—

Oldcaſtle.

He means me, I fear

[aſide.]

and her name, pray—

Brumpton.

Miſs Mary Ann Richley—

Oldcaſtle.

Wounds! what a diſcovery here is!

aſide.
Brumpton.

Her guardian's name is Biddulph—perhaps you may know him—

Oldcaſtle.

No, not I—the young rake-hell!

aſide.
Brumpton.

He means to abuſe his truſt, and confine youth and beauty within the arms of age and uglineſs.—There's an old rogue for you!—Does not he deſerve to be hanged?

Oldcaſtle.

What a young villain!

aſide.
Brumpton.

I beg your pardon—I did not hear—

Oldcaſtle.
[16]

I am ſeized with an ugly fit of coughing—

[coughs.]

But you ſhould conſider—the marriage-act is very ſtrict, and requires the conſent of prudent people—

Brumpton.

Po! that's nothing—abuſe Scotland as they will, it enables us to evade the laws of England.—My dear Mr. Oldcaſtle, you have promiſed me you'll ſpeak to my father—

Oldcaſtle.

Ay! I'll keep my word—He ſhall certainly know how you are going on—I'll do you that good turn, you may depend—

Brumpton.

My dear good friend, it is ſo lucky that I met with you—

Oldcaſtle.

I am heartily glad I met you, indeed—

Brumpton.

Well now, adieu!—Oh! but I forgot to tell you—She'll be mine this very day.—Briſk, my fellow,—who is a footman of talents, is to go to her as a tenant from the country, come to town with old Biddulph's commands to carry her down with him in the fly.—She is ſo ſimple ſhe will believe it; and the oafs about her will bite like gudgeons—and ſo—ha! ha!—I kindle into rapture;—I muſt fly to know the happy tidings—and ſo fare ye well—you'll ſpeak to my father—

Oldcaſtle.

I'll do for you there—

Brumpton.

A million of thanks to you—Ha! ha! is not this a charming adventure?—Ha! ha!—Did you ever know ſo happy a rogue?

Exit.
Oldcaſtle.
[alone.]

I never knew ſo abandoned a young profligate, nor ſo damned an adventure!—If the fellow is lurking about my doors, I'll ſwear a robbery againſt him—If I get ſight of him, I'll deſcribe him from head to foot; and ſwear he ſtole a horſe in Northamptonſhire—I have not a moment to loſe,—and then, my young madam, bag and baggage away into the country.

End of the Firſt ACT.

ACT II.

[17]
Enter Brumpton.

HO! ho! ye powers of laughter, you will ſhake me to pieces one day or other!—Poor Briſk!— What a jade's trick madam Fortune has play'd him!—He writes me here—

[going to read.]

All the poor devil's ill ſtars muſt have been combined againſt him!—

Enter Belford.
Belford.

Yes, all my ill ſtars are combined, ſure enough!—Oh! Brumpton! I have ſeen her guardian, that ſuperannuated iniquity! but he defeats my happineſs, and croſſes all my ſchemes.

Brumpton.

You were admirably employed, my dear Belford—Ha! ha!—"Cato's a proper perſon to entruſt a love-tale with."

Belford.

You mirth is unſeaſonable, Sir,—

Brumpton.

Nay, if you will run about like a great boy to catch old birds with chaff, when you ought to ſeize the young unfledged one in its neſt; why the conſequence will be, that, like a great blubbering boy, you'll come back with your finger in your eye, "I don't know what to do—I can't catch it—I can't—

Belford.

'Sdeath! inſulted thus—draw, Sir—

Brumpton.

Not I, truly—I am otherwiſe diſpoſed—

Belford.

Defend yourſelf, or I'll diſpoſe of you—

Brumpton.

Well! kill me, if you will—I'll die laughing like Pierre in the tragedy—

Belford.
[18]

Po! your meanneſs and your folly make you unworthy of my ſword—

Brumpton.

Ay! that's right—and now in due form, what has provoked you?

Belford.

'Sdeath! Sir, becauſe your affairs are in a tolerable train, am I to be made your ſport? Oh! you don't know what it is to be diſappointed in the tendereſt paſſion—

Brumpton

But I am diſappointed, and in the tendereſt paſſion too; and yet it was that very diſappointment I was laughing at; and not my friend—

Belford.

And are your purpoſes croſſed too?—My dear brother ſufferer—

Brumpton.

Ay! now I am unfortunate—Oh! the human mind!—Yes, Sir, I am diſappointed—Ha! ha!—Briſk is in a devil of a pickle! He went in diſguiſe to carry off my little goddeſs for me—Somebody that reſembles him has committed a robbery in Northamptonſhire—They have charged Briſk, and he writes me here, that they have carried him before Mr. Carbuncle, the wine-merchant, who deals out bad law, and adulterate port, to all St. Anne's pariſh—Briſk will be chronicled in miſerable elegy, clubbed by two poets upon a flock-bed in the Old Jewry;—the hiſtorians of Grub-ſtreet are already preparing "The Life and Converſation of Jeremy Briſk, who was born of honeſt parents"—Ha! ha! poor devil! I muſt go to his aſſiſtance—

Exeunt.
SCENE the Juſtice's Houſe.
Enter Mittimus and Squeezum.
Mittimus.

Here, bring the priſoner this way—A great pity, maſter Squeezum, that Mr. Carbuncle is not at home—This fellow will be carried to another ſhop, I fear—

Squeezum.

No, no; that ſhan't be—I have found another juſtice to ſit for him—a gentleman who has [19] been in the commiſſion many years—He was going by in his chariot, but I ſtopped him—Here, bring in the priſoner—

Enter Briſk, dreſſed as a country fellow.
Briſk.

Nay, good chriſtian people—gentlemen—neighbours—I never was in Northamptonſhire in my life—I am a poor, harmleſs, innocent fellow—I always had a mortal averſion to a cart—I never ſaw one in my days but it was better than a ſermon to me—

Enter Sir Theodore, with a Letter in his Hand.
Sir Theodore.

Well! well! I am not fond of acting, but rather than juſtice ſhould be at a ſtand—The fellow anſwers the deſcription!—Sirrah, what can you ſay for yourſelf?

Briſk.

Hi! hi! what ſhall I ſay?—your humble ſervant, Sir—

Sir Theodore.

Free and familiar!—mind what you ſay, this is a ſerious buſineſs—

Briſk.

Dear heart, Sir, does not your honour know me?—your ſon's faithful and honeſt ſervant, Briſk—

Theodore.

Briſk!—what rogue's trick have you been playing, ſirrah?

Briſk.

Your honour knows, Sir, I have not been out of your houſe any time theſe ſix weeks paſt—

Sir Theodore.

And why in this diſguiſe, ſirrah?

Briſk.

Nothing but a frolick, Sir—a mere freak of my young maſter's, Sir, and nothing more—

Sir Theodore.

Commit him for further examination—Raſcal, I will know the whole—make out a warrant—

Briſk.

Sir, Sir,—I—you ſhall hear it all—the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth—

Sir Theodore.

Very well, and if you dare attempt to deceive—Clear the room, and leave us to ourſelves

[exeunt all the reſt.]

If you tell me a ſingle falſehood—

Briſk.
[20]

Not a tittle, Sir—the fact is, Sir—my maſter is in love deſperately with a young lady from the country—He ſays ſhe is an heireſs, Sir, but I own I don't believe it—

Sir Theodore.

Go on—

Briſk.

And, Sir, I was to go in this dreſs, and ſo to carry her off, and deliver her over to him—That's the ſhort and the long of it, Sir, as I am a ſinner.—

Sir Theodore.

And as you value your ears, this is the truth?

Briſk.

Oh! upon honour, Sir—

Sir Theodore.

Hark-ye, ſirrah!—you know the oak that ſtands near my houſe in the country—

Briſk.

Perfectly well, Sir—

Sir Theodore.

It has been the reformer of manners twenty miles round the country—

Briſk.

Ay! Sir, it has been felt with a vengeance.

Sir Theodore.

I have ordered a good cudgel to be lopped for me, and, if there is any deception in this, thy ſhoulders ſhall anſwer.

Briſk.

Every word moſt religiouſly true, Sir,—

Sir Theodore.

Very well! may be ſo—it has an air—I am glad I have found this out—The prodigal! the blockhead!—you may go home, Sir—I can take upon me to diſcharge you from the ſuſpicion you ſtand under here—

Briſk.

Yes, Sir—and I ſhall ever—

Sir Theodore.

And if I ever detect you in any more plottings—if you are again the confederate of that abſurd blockhead!

Briſk.

Tranſport me, Sir, if ever again—Well off, Briſk, well off!—

Exit.
Sir Theodore.

So—ſo—I have found out the young graceleſs, have I?—mighty well! and if I don't exert the authority of a father—

Exit.
[21]SCENE Lovibond's Houſe.
Enter Harriet.
Harriet.

To be locked up in this manner with an old rogue of a guardian!—Mr. Belford! Mr. Belford! why won't you be my deliverer?—He knows I like him; I have told him ſo a thouſand times; that is my eyes have told him ſo—And yet he undertakes nothing—One would think the young men of this age have not hearts in their boſoms bigger than pin's heads!—Ah! my dear protector!

ſeeing Lovibond.
Enter Lovibond.
Lovibond.

My bloſſom!—my lovely little ward! to-morrow makes you the queen of my heart; and your will ſhall be a law to me.

Harriet.

You only flatter me;—you won't let yourſelf be ruled by me—

Lovibond.

I ſhall live under your abſolute command, roſe-bud!—But you muſt be mild in authority, for you know—

Harriet.

Yes, I know how tender you have been—your confining me here for ſo many days is to me a proof of the tendereſt love.

Lovibond.

Yes, it is a mark of my affection—

Harriet.

There are many reaſons why I ſhould not venture abroad—more than you deam of—

Lovibond.

You alarm me—what reaſons?

Harriet.

Why the danger is—no—you'll be for fighting the odious man—

Lovibond.

No—I'll not fight—I'll live for you—

Harriet.

But will you follow my advice, and ſpeak to him calmly, without paſſion?

Lovibond.

I will—Let me hear—what's the matter?

Harriet.

Why that Mr. Belford, whoſe viſits you uſed to encourage—

Lovibond.
[22]

I have not liked him a good while—what of him?

Harriet.

Oh! he's a wicked man—He has vile deſigns in his head, and would fain have me liſten to his propoſals—

Lovibond.

The impudence of the young men of this age!

Harriet.

Your back is no ſooner turned, than he raps at the door, and at the windows, and diſgraces me with all the neighbours—my character will be ruined

[pretends to cry]

unleſs you find ſome method to—

Lovibond.

Don't be alarmed, my ſweet—I'll bar my doors, and you ſhan't ſtir out this twelvemonth—

Harriet.

That won't do—

Lovibond.

Then you ſhall never go out at all—

Harriet.

That's ſome comfort—But in the mean time to have my reputation blaſted by an abandoned libertine

[ſhe cries.]

Caeſar's wife ſhould not only be virtuous, but free from ſuſpicion—

Lovibond.

The ſenſible girl! this is owing to her education—her ſiſter Mary Ann could not make ſuch a remark—

Harriet.

Well! well!—you don't love me—

Lovibond.

Yes, but I do—I'll go and ſwear the peace againſt him—

Harriet.

I wiſh you would—

Lovibond.

I'll do it directly—I'll let him know by a juſtice's warrant that Caeſar's wife is not to be trifled with—

Harriet.

And pray tell him, I hate him—that he may come as often as he will under my window, but it will be to no purpoſe, for I ſhall not endeavour to let him in—

Lovibond.

He ſhall hear it—

Harriet.

Let him know that tho' he is young and handſome, that all his charms are loſt upon me—

Lovibond.

I'll do it—

Harriet.

Tell him you have been a father to me,— [23] that I conſider you ſtill as my father, and that I think it unnatural to love giddy young men, when I can be ſo much better off with you.

Lovibond.

He ſhall hear it on every ſide of his ears—

Harriet.

Ay, but without loſs of time, if you love me—I ſhan't be eaſy till he knows my mind—

Lovibond.

Nor I—it is fit he ſhould know your mind—

Harriet.

Yes, and tell him, if he ſhould come when you are out, not all his winning ways ſhall prevail on me run away with him—

Lovibond.

You have charmed me; tranſported me; raviſhed me; get up-ſtairs—I'll ſeek him this moment—ha! ha!—this all ſprings from her good ſenſe—this is knowing right from wrong—ha! ha!

Exit.
Harriet.

Be ſure you tell him every word—and if Mr. Belford does but underſtand every word, as I intend it, then I may ſtill wing my flight to his dear arms—A new ſcheme this of mine!—But love inſpired it, and love may crown it with ſucceſs—

Exit.
SCENE Oldcaſtle's Houſe.
Enter Peter and Bridget.
Peter.

Yes, yes, Bridget—the gentleman's generous enow, for a matter o'that.

Bridget.

And pray, Peter, do the London folk always give money to the like of we, as often as they come in or out of the houſe?

Peter.

Ay! zure, and the ſarving folk call it vails. Why, Bridget, poor ſervants would not be able to ape all their maſter's follies, and powder like fine gentry, and curſe and ſwear like lords, an ſo be every body did not give at ſtreet door more than any thing they get in the houſe is worth.

Bridget.

La! well that's pure, ſure enow!

Peter.
[24]

As to me, do ye zee, I does not care how often the gentleman comes, and for a matter o'that, I does not care how long maſter ſtays in the country—

Bridget.

Theſe London ways are comical, that's for ſure.

[a rap at the door]

More griſe to the mill—go and open the door, Peter—

Peter.

Go yourſelf, an you go to that—

Bridget.

I ſhall budge none, not I.—

Peter.

Nor, I, faith and troth!

[another rap.]
Bridget.

Law, how can you be ſo croſs—

Peter.

You put all upon me, that's your way—who's at the door—

Oldcaſtle.
[within]

open the door, you varlets, open the door.

Bridget.

Oh! it's maſter—I'll go—

Peter.

Maſter!—then I'll go—

Bridget.

Stand out of the way, can't you?

Peter.

Stand away yourſelf—I be ready—ben't I!

Bridget.

Farther a field, will you?

Oldcaſtle.
[rapping]

Within there, open the door, I ſay—

Bridget.

Call here to Peter—he won't let a body—

Peter.

No body ſhall but I—

[opens the door]

Servant maſter.

Enter Oldcaſtle.
Bridget.

Welcome home, maſter.

Oldcaſtle.

Why am I to wait thus?

Bridget.

It was all his doings—

Peter.

It was all her doings as well as I.

Oldcaſtle.

Peace, numſkulls!—how is every body at home?

Peter.

Charmingly well.

Bridget.

All in pure health, praiſe for every thing; and Miſs Mary Ann ſings about the houſe like a little bird in a cage.

Oldcaſtle.

Has not ſhe been melancholy ſince I went into the country?

Bridget.
[25]

No, Lord love her, not ſhe—

Oldcaſtle.

No!

[in a paſſion]
Bridget.

Yes!—how terrible he looks!—

Oldcaſtle.

Did not ſhe long for my return?

Peter.

Hugeouſly! ſo we did all—

Oldcaſtle.

Vixen! jade! villain! raſcal!

Peter.

I'm down o'my knees—

Bridget.

So be I—merciful father, how—

Oldcaſtle.

You have obeyed my orders, have you? That ſcoundrel that was lurking here about my houſe, he is ſent to Newgate by this time

aſide.
Bridget.

Don't ſend I to Newgate, pray—

Peter.

He'll murder us both, as ſure as a gun—

Oldcaſtle.

What you are a ſneaking away, are you? Oh! it's all too true—come back, or—

Bridget.

Yes, Sir—

Peter.

No, Sir—

Oldcaſtle.

Oh! Mary Ann! Mary Ann!—I could never have imagined—call Mary Ann hither—

Both.

Yes, Sir

[they run out]—
Oldcaſtle.

Now will they plot, and put their heads together—Mary Ann!—Marry Ann!—Oh! here ſhe comes.

Enter Mary Ann, playing with a cup and ball.
Mary Ann.
[Sings]

‘Three children ſliding on the ice’—ſo, you be come, I ſee—

Oldcaſtle.

Yes, I am come home—

Mary Ann.

Better late than never—I began to think as how you had forgot poor I—I expected you all the live long, long day, ſo I did, and there did not go by a coach or a cart, or an horſe or an aſs, but I thought it was you—ah! I am glad you're come—what's the matter?—ben't you well?—

Oldcaſtle.

Fatigued after my journey—you have been very well, I hope, ſince I left you—

Mary Ann.

Oh! yes, purely—neither ſick nor ſorry not I—by goles, that is not true neither, for laſt night—

Oldcaſtle.
[26]

Laſt night!—what of laſt night?

Mary Ann.

Little Pompey barked ſo all night long, I could not ſleep a wink—

Oldcaſtle.

Is that all?—you have not been out any where, have you?

Mary Ann.

Out!—law, where ſhould I go?— I don't like going out in this ſtrange outlandiſh place—I like the country better by half—

Oldcaſtle.

Well! well! you ſhall go back ſoon.

Mary Ann.

But then mayn't I go and ſee ſiſter Harriet firſt?—an ill natured thing that's what ſhe is—ſhe has not been to ſee poor I ever ſince I came to the great town.

Oldcaſtle.

You ſhall ſee her—ſo you paſſed your time very merrily!

Mary Ann.

Oh! never better in all my days—but you don't ſeem glad to ſee a body—

Oldcaſtle.

Yes, yes; I am glad to ſee you—the little Jezabel won't tell me a word

[aſide]

—ſhall I tax her with it directly, or wait a little longer to ſee her cunning?—let you and I go and chat a little together above ſtairs.

Mary Ann.

Ah! you look croſs—with all heart I'll go—one two, three, and away—

Exit.
Oldcaſtle.

The little frippery, how ſhe carries it off!—Oh! the devil! I burn, I'm in a fever—I have had the graſs cut under my feet—Oh! the young Magdalen!—the ſly iniquity!—

Exit.
SCENE the Street.
Enter Belford.
Belford.

Nature never deſigned me for a knight errant—Don Quixote would have ſtormed fifty caſtles, while my dull brain is hatching one poor project—what muſt be done?—

[27] Enter Lovibond.
Lovibond.

Ay! ay! there he is, I ſee—

Belford.

'Sdeath no way to convey a meſſage to her!—

Lovibond.

Full of miſchief!—your ſervant, Sir—

Belford.

Mr. Lovibond!

Lovibond.

I was in queſt of you.

Belford.

'Tis a mark of your friendſhip—

Lovibond.

I mean to prove my friendſhip, do you ſee—I don't like to ſee young men loſing their time—it is now fit you ſhould underſtand yourſelf, and fix upon ſomething that may ſettle your head a little—

Belford.

Ah! Sir!—'tis in your power—

Lovibond.

Ay! much is in my power—I have a fair ward, Mr. Belford—

Belford.

He is going to propoſe her to me

[aſide.]

I know her perfectly, Sir—

Lovibond.

Then I don't inform you of it—ſhe is handſome, ſpirited, and ſenſible—

Belford.

I am no ſtranger to her merit—

Lovibond.

Then I don't inform you of that neither; to-morrow I intend to gratify the wiſhes of her heart, and make her mine by marriage—

Belford.

What ſo ſoon, Sir?—this is news—

Lovibond.

Then I inform you of it—and I will inform you of another thing too—She has a mortal averſion to you, and deſires you will trouble her no more —

Belford.

You amaze me, Sir—the devil! ſhe has not blabbed to him, I hope.

aſide.
Lovibond.

What a mortified countenance he puts on!

Belford.

This is all an abſolute riddle, Mr. Lovibond.

Lovibond.

Then I'll unriddle it to you—ſhe perceived you dangling after her in all public places, whenever I took her abroad with me;—ſhe underſtood thoſe artful glances you caſt towards her; ſhe [28] could interpret every amourous ſigh;—ſhe bid me tell you ſo—

Belford.

She did?—then perhaps I know how to interpret her meaning.

aſide.
Lovibond.

She ſays you may think her a melancholy priſoner, but you may ſpare your walks up and down the ſtreet; and ſo ſhe would have acquainted you long ago, but ſhe wanted a proper perſon to convey her ſentiments to you.

Belford.

She has found a truſty meſſenger at laſt.

Lovibond.

Ha! ha! ſo ſhe has—ſhe knows ſhe could truſt me—ha! ha!—I thought it a pity you ſhould loſe any more time, and ſo now you may go and bow, and kneel, and make a monkey of yourſelf before ſome other window—

Belford.

Since is ſo, Sir, I muſt ſubmit—her meaning is deeper than he is aware of.

aſide.
Lovibond.

Don't be diſhearten'd—you may ſucceed elſewhere—ſhe allows you to be of a very comely figure; a well proportioned perſon; but 'tis all loſt upon her; ſhe conſiders me as her father, and has no unnatural paſſion for profligate youngſters.—

Belford.

I believe you, Sir—I deſiſt from all pretenſion;—I ſee this matter now in its true light;—and, Sir, I ſhall moleſt you no more; and in that determination I take my leave.

Lovibond.

Not ſo faſt;—another word—tho' you were to watch your time, and in my abſence ſcale the wall, and get in at the window, and entreat her to elope with you, ſhe ſtill would cleave to me.

Belford.

That I dare ſay—I'll try her tho'—

[aſide]

—I am perfectly ſatisfied, Sir—

Lovibond.

And harkye;—you may come as often as you will about the houſe, ſhe will not exchange a word with you out of the window—nor ſettle any ſcheme with you—ha! ha! you ſee you are fully underſtood—

Belford.

I ſhall ever eſteem you as my friend, and I ſhall loſe no more time, that you may tell the lady [29] —ſhe ſhall never have reaſon to upbraid me again—and ſo you may aſſure her—ten thouſand bleſſings on her for this ſtratagem;—ſhe ſhall be mine this very night.

[aſide]
Exit.
Lovibond.

What a look of chagrin there was!—I have trained the girl up to this—ha! ha! Mary Ann will never have ſenſe enough to behave in this manner—ha! ha!—

Exit.
Enter Brumpton and Briſk following.
Briſk.

A pretty ſort of jeopardy I have been in, maſter!

Brumpton.

Traitor! let me ſee no more of you.

Briſk.

And are thoſe my thanks, Sir?—You'll be ſo good as to give me a diſcharge—

Brumpton.

I wiſh I could give you a diſcharge of a culverin—

Briſk.

I am not ſo extravagant in my expectations as to deſire that favour, Sir—Heav'n help me! I am more eaſily contented—Only juſt a ſmall arrear of wages, if you pleaſe, with a little daſh of a character for diligence, fidelity, and a ſmattering of what you call parts, if my maſter did not mar all upon occaſion, and leave now and then in danger of dangling by the neck for attempting to ſerve him—

Brumpton.

You are a villain!

Briſk.

I am a fool!—

Brumpton.

Have not you betrayed me to Sir Theodore?—let him into my whole ſecret?—He knew nothing of my being in love in town here, but you muſt divulge it, and I muſt have him ſtorming at me in a rage and fury—I muſt have my beſt concerted ſchemes diſappointed by you—Begone, raſcal, I have done with you—

Briſk.

Mighty well, Sir!—what poſſeſſes him? only pleaſe, Sir, to ſettle that trifling balance—

[30] Enter Belford.
Belford.

Ha! Brumpton! give me joy—things begin to wear a better aſpect—I'll ſwear you are right—ha! ha! I intend for the future to be a laughing philoſopher too—

Brumpton.

Philoſophy may go to Bridewell for ought I care, unleſs philoſophy could pimp for a body—

Belford.

Hey! what's the matter?

Brumpton.

Every thing's the matter—aſk that treacherous—

Briſk.

Mr. Belford, believe me, Sir—

Brumpton.

Hold you your tongue, Sir—no more of your—

Belford.

Ha! ha!—what out of temper! My affairs, Brumpton, are in a fair way—you, after a great deal of pains, may poſſibly be diſappointed, but I—

Brumpton.

Po! po! this is all—

Belford.

I have meſſages ſent me from the girl I adore, you rogue—ſhe points out my road to happineſs.

Brumpton.

I'm not diſpos'd to laughter—

Belford.

Pſhaw! man, never fret for little diſappointments—have you any difficulties? you have ſtrength to remove mountains—Ha! ha!—my dear Brumpton, you ſend meſſages, I am ſent to—you are diſappointed,—I am likely to ſucceed—

Brumpton.

'Sdeath, Sir, what do you mean?

[going to draw.]
Belford.

Not I, truly—If I muſt die, I'll die laughing, like Pierre in the tragedy, ha! ha!—You make a toil of a pleaſure, Brumpton; and love, which is to me joy and rapture, is to you—

Brumpton.

Damnation!—draw this moment—

Belford.

No—no—our tempers are very different—what, I'm in too high ſpirits, and you want to let me a little blood—you fret, I laugh—ha! ha!— [31] I'll leave you to recover your uſual ſpirits—ha! ha!

Exit.
Brumpton.

'Sdeath, this is inſupportable!—I have but one ſcheme left—Briſk, you muſt execute it directly—

Briſk.

There is no diſguiſe neceſſary, I hope, Sir—

Brumpton.

No murmuring, ſcoundrel; follow me this inſtant—

Brisk.

This will be an horſepond buſineſs, I fear, and a ducking will ſpoil my livery.

Exeunt.
Enter Oldcaſtle.
Oldcaſtle.

It was well ſaid by an old philoſopher, when you are in a paſſion con over your alphabet.—I have done ſo, and have recovered my temper—walk in Mary Ann, walk in—

Enter Mary Ann.
Mary Ann.

Ah!—you have not taken any notice of me ſince you came home—ah! I ſee you don't love me—

Oldcaſtle.

You are much miſtaken—I love you exceedingly—draw a chair—ſit down—Well! and how have you paſſed your time in my abſence?—

Mary Ann.

As well as any thing.

Oldcaſtle.

Have you any news?

Mary Ann.

News!—law, not I—fikins, I fib tho'—I have news to tell you—

Oldcaſtle.

Have you?—what is it, chicken?

Mary Ann.

Little kitten's dead.—

Oldcaſtle.

Indeed!—

Mary Ann.

Ah! if you had ſeen all its pretty little tricks, and how it played about—It grieved me to loſe ſhe—but ſquirrel's well—

Oldcaſtle.

Is he?

Mary Ann.

Yes, and ſo is mackaw—

Oldcaſtle.

Ay, that's good news—

Mary Ann.

Yes, and I have marked three ſhirts, and hemmed five handkerchiefs—

Oldcaſtle.
[32]

Mighty well!

[pauſes, and looks at her earneſtly]

Mary Ann,—this is a wide and dangerous world we live in—ſcandal, malice, and detraction are ever flying about,—conſtantly on the wing, and ſpreading pernicious tales to the ruin of every character.

Mary Ann.

You frighten a body, you talk ſo—

Oldcaſtle.

Draw near, ſweet, draw near—you look charmingly—mind what I ſay—ſome impertinent neighbours have whiſpered—but I did not believe 'em—they have ſaid, that while I was in the country, a young gentleman frequented here, and was well received, Mary Ann—But I have laid a wager there was no foundation for any ſuch idle givings out—

Mary Ann.

How much have you laid?—

Oldcaſtle.

Five pounds to four—

Mary Ann.

All that!—make a hedge of it, as you did at the horſe-race—

Oldcaſtle.

Why ſo?

Mary Ann.

Cauſe, you'll loſe—

Oldcaſtle.

Then there was a young gentleman here—

Mary Ann.

As ſure as a gun—He was here for ever and for ever—morning, noon, and night—

Oldcaſtle.

But, my little lambkin, did not I forbid any viſits?—I won't be certain, but if my memory does not fail me—

Mary Ann.

Oh! for a matter o'that, you may be certain—you did forbid it, ſure enough.

Oldcaſtle.

And why was I diſobeyed, my dear?

Mary Ann.

Ah! you would have done the ſame yourſelf—as the ſong ſays

ſings aukwardly.
Had you been in my place,
Why you'd ha' done the ſame.
Oldcaſtle.

Very prettily ſung—but explain, my ſweet—

Mary Ann.

It's the ſurpriſingeſt thing in the world—I'll tell you all about it—

Oldcaſtle.
[33]

That's right; let us hear—

Mary Ann.

I was ſitting in the balcony, thinking of no earthly thing, and he paſſed by on the other ſide of the way—Ah! he looked as handſome as an angel—and ſo he made me a low bow—I bluſhed up to my very ears, and ſo I got up, and made a low curteſy—and ſo he kiſſed his hand, and I could not help ſmiling at that, and ſo he bowed again and again, and I curteſyed again and again, and then he walked up the ſtreet, and down the ſtreet, and to and fro, and backwards and forwards; and would you believe it?—He did not miſs a time making me a bow with all the good nature in the world, and ſo I was as good natured as he, and if he had ſtaid all night long, I ſhould have ſtaid too, for I thought it would not be right to be out done in civility—

Oldcaſtle.

Oh! thoſe damned bal [...]nies, I always hated them—well! well! go on, Mary Ann.

Mary Ann.

Well, and ſo the next day a large, comely fat gentlewoman came to me, and ſhe had three or four band-boxes full of fine things, and ſhe ſaid ſhe had orders to give me my choice of charming lace, and charming ribbons,—Ay! and ſhe ſeemed very good-natured, and ſpoke in the prettieſt manner—

Oldcaſtle.

Oh! the execrable bawd!—

aſide.
Mary Ann.

You are very pretty, my dear, ſays ſhe, but it's a pity you ſhould be mewed up here—and then ſhe offered me to take me home to her own houſe, and ſaid ſhe would dizen me out with diamonds, and then a lord would fall in love with me—

Oldcaſtle.

The infernal ſorcereſs!

aſide.
Mary Ann.

And then ſhe ſaid I had done a great deal of miſchief, and that I wounded a young gentleman terribly—Who, I wound any body, ſays I?—Yes, the gentleman I ſaw in the balcony—I was as ſorry as any thing I had hurt him, but I could not tell how it was, and ſhe ſaid it was my eyes, and that he [34] was ſhot thro' the heart, and would be dead and buried in two days time, if I did not ſee him—

Oldcaſtle.

Oh! the damned agent of hell.

aſide.
Mary Ann.

And then, could you think of her goodneſs? Indeed I can't help loving her for it—She offered me to go and meet the young gentleman at her houſe—I thanked her, and took it very kind—but I did not care to go to ſtrange places, and ſo I ſaid the gentleman might come here if he would—

Oldcaſtle.

Oh! the travelling milliner!

[aſide.]

Well, and did he come?

Mary Ann.

That he did ſure enough—and he ſaid the very ſight of me cured him of his wounds—Ah! I am ſure you can't blame me, for I could not let him die, ſo I could not—I almoſt cried my eyes out when little kitten died—

Oldcaſtle.

Brother Lovibond is right—ſhe has it I fear;—Oh! I dread the reſt.

aſide.
Mary Ann.

Ah!—but you are angry now—

Oldcaſtle.

No—not angry—well—how did he behave?—

Mary Ann.

Ah! he had ſuch a pretty ſmile—and he gave me this twee—and he gave Bridget and Peter whole handfuls of money.

Oldcaſtle.

What did he ſay?

Mary Ann.

Oh! the prettieſt words in the world.

Oldcaſtle.

But he did not touch you?—

Mary Ann.

By goles, I beg your pardon for that, but he did, though—

Oldcaſtle.

I gueſſed ſo—

[aſide.]

—Go on—

Mary Ann.

He kiſſed one a thouſand and a thouſand times—

Oldcaſtle.

Daggers! daggers! daggers!

aſide.
Mary Ann.

And ſqueezed my hand ſo tenderly.

Oldcaſtle.

Poiſon! wormwood! wormwood!

Mary Ann.

He took one round the neck—

Oldcaſtle.

I thought as much

[aſide.]

—proceed—

Mary Ann.

And round the waiſt, and he—

Oldcaſtle.
[35]

Now—now—it's all over—how I tremble!

Mary Ann.

What's the matter with you?

Oldcaſtle.

Nothing—we ſhall have ſome rain—my corn ſhoots; that's all—

Mary Ann.

And he

[ſhe ſmiles at him.]

Ah! but I won't tell you—you'll be angry—

Oldcaſtle.

No—no—no—I love you dearly, Mary Ann;

[laughs uneaſily.]

I do indeed—go on with your ſtory, go on—

Mary Ann.

Why then, he took my glove off, and almoſt eat my hand up with kiſſes—

Oldcaſtle.

But was that all?—did you do nothing more to cure his wounds?—

Mary Ann.

Look you there now—you are angry—ought I to have done more?

Oldcaſtle.

No;—enough of all conſcience;—but, are you ſure this was all?—

Mary Ann.

He gave me this fan, and a pair of ear-rings; and I am ſure it was very civil of him to ſhew ſo much good nature to a ſtranger.

Oldcaſtle.

Mary Ann, Mary Ann, all his ſmooth words, all his tenderneſs, all his ſmiles, were baits to entrap you, to enſnare, to deceive you, abuſe you, ruin you—

Mary Ann.

Ah! but he told me to the contrary, over and over, and over again—

Oldcaſtle.

I know the world, child—it was all for your deſtruction, to ſwallow you up in the jaws of ruin—go up to your room—all this ſhall be explained to you—

Mary Ann.

Ah! but you are out of humour with a body.

Oldcaſtle.

Do as I bid you—

Mary Ann.

Yes, that's what I will—By goles, he's a ſweet gentleman, for all you, that's what he is

[aſide.]
Exit.
[36]Oldcaſtle alone.

What an eſcape have I had! and yet her ingenuous manner of confeſſing all, gives me ſome hopes—I'll read her a lecture, and then I'll go and let Sir Theodore Brumpton know what a villain his ſon is—Oh! Mary Ann, Mary Ann.

End of the Second ACT.

ACT III.

SCENE the Street.
Enter Briſk.

MY dear good nature, hold you your tongue!—You plead in vain, not a ſtep will I budge.

[ſtriking his boſom]

I am rock, and will be made a dupe no more;—well ſaid, my juſt reſentment; we know the world now, and will be led a devil's dance no longer—Bravo Briſk, now you are free, and your own man again—Service is a very unthankful office, and for the mere honour of—Pſhaw! pox!—now my honour muſt be heard—What will the world ſay of you, Mr. Briſk, you that have hitherto been the firſt footman in England, renowned for your parts and your abilities!—what give way now to a trifling difficulty? money is abſolutely neceſſary for your maſter's affairs, Mr. Oldcaſtle is his only reſource, and you have orders to apply for it directly—But my dear honour, you know what an empty bubble you are, and how often I have been kicked in your ſervice—The more glory, man;—If any body thinks it [37] worth his while to kick you, it's a ſign you are riſing in the world—thoſe are the true marks of a footman's genius; thoſe are the things that will raiſe you in the world, and make an exciſeman of you at laſt! Bravo! I kindle at the thought—I muſt go on; one effort more, Briſk, and then—But how! how! touch the caſh!—"My maſter is in the utmoſt diſtreſs, Sir, and will be for ever obliged to you"—Pſhaw! that will never do—I have a ſtratagem, and if I can but meet with maſter Oldcaſtle—ha! as luck will have it—courage Briſk!—here he comes—

Enter Oldcaſtle.
Oldcaſtle.

What a diſcovery have I made!—I'll let his father, I'll let Sir Theodore know—

Brisk.

Oh! Sir!—I am glad I have met you at laſt—I have ſought you thro' the whole town—

Oldcaſtle.

You live with young Brumpton, don't you?

Brisk.

The ſame, Sir—ſuch a tide of affairs coming upon him—ſuch an unforeſeen accident—poor Sir Theodore, Sir!—the good worthy gentleman, on his way from the country—

Oldcaſtle.

I underſtood he was in town—

Brisk.

He was coming to town, Sir; we expected him every hour—and now the fatal news is arrived—He was taken ſuddenly ill, too great a fulneſs of blood—no aſſiſtance near—it happened on the road—no ſurgeon—no barber to bleed him—the poor gentleman expired—and in the moſt critical moment—

Oldcaſtle.

Carried off in this manner you ſay, and without having time to be ill!—

Brisk.

Yes, Sir;—without a ſingle conſultation of phyſicians!—It's very hard!—It's a pity he was in ſuch a haſte to die—but good ſometimes comes of evil, they ſay—The news has wrought a wonderful change in my young maſter—Sir Theodore had made a match for him in the country—a great match indeed!

Oldcaſtle.
[38]

Ay! I heard of it—

Brisk.

And yet the ſon, perverſe and obſtinate, was in love here in town,—that is, he fancied he was—with an inſignificant huſſey, and was determined to marry her, in oppoſition to his poor father.

Oldcaſtle.

I have heard of that too—

Brisk.

But he is now ſhocked that he ſhould be ſuch a monſter of diſobedience, and he gives up all thought of this town lady—

Oldcaſtle.

That's right—the good young man—

Brisk.

Ay! the good young gentleman, indeed—He renounces her for ever, Sir, and is reſolved to go off immediately for the country, and after he has performed the laſt duty to the beſt of men, who is now no more, he is determined to pay that regard to his memory which he refuſed to his authority, when living, and marry no woman in the world but the woman deſigned for him by his father.

Oldcaſtle.

The good young man!—this is the beſt news I ever heard in my life

[aſide]

the good young man!

Brisk.

But then his intention of going out of town, I fear, may be fruſtrated.

Oldcaſtle.

As how! that muſt not be—

Brisk.

Why we were kept a little bare of caſh latterly, juſt to reduce him to a ſenſe of his duty—and now he wants wherewithal to diſcharge ſome little bills, before we ſet out for the country—

Oldcaſtle.

Why, I am indebted to Sir Theodore's eſtate—the intentions of the young man muſt not be fruſtrated—

Brisk.

Heaven forbid!

Oldcaſtle.

Here, I have in a purſe here—Ha! ha! I ſhall get rid of a plague and a torment

[aſide]

—I can let him have a couple of hundreds—

[holds out the purſe to him]

and tell him he can't go out of town too ſoon—good lack! poor Sir Theodore—

[39] Enter Sir Theodore.
Sir Theodore.

My ſon bid me ſpeak to him, and luckily here he is—

Oldcaſtle.
[in amaze]

Ye powers of heaven!—ye guardian Gods!—aſſiſt me! help me!—

Brisk.
[in a mock tone]

Angels and miniſters of grace! what a damned accident is this!—let us run away, Sir—

Sir Theodore.

Hey! what's the matter?—what do the people ſtare at?—

Oldcaſtle.

I am all over in a jelly!

[drops the purſe]

Briſk, ſupport me, lend me your arm—

Brisk.

I have not ſtrength—but crawling on the ground—he'll carry away your purſe—you know he always loved money—

[Brisk makes towards the purſe]
Sir Theodore.

Ha! ha!—in the name of wonder, what poſſeſſes you?—

Oldcaſtle.

Diſappear, for heaven's ſake, diſappear—I never did you wrong—I'll pay the money to your executor—I was advancing your ſon two hundred pounds in part-payment; I never ſaw a ghoſt in all my days before—

Sir Theodore.

What! do you think I'm dead, Mr. Oldcaſtle?—Ha! ha!

Oldcaſtle.

And be you alive?

Sir Theodore.

As ſure as you are alive man—Ha! ha!—

Oldcaſtle.

I took you for a ghoſt

[ſtriking Brisk with his cane]

Sirrah, let that money alone—hold me, Sir Theodore, hold me,—I am ready to ſink into the earth

[Goes up to him]

they told me you was dead—that fellow Briſk—Hey! what are you running away with my money—ſcoundrel! villain! robber!

Briſk.

May be you are uſed to ghoſts, Sir; I can't ſtay in a place that's haunted.

Exit.
Sir Theodore.

Compoſe yourſelf; and let me underſtand this buſineſs—

Oldcaſtle.
[40]
[laying hold of him]

I proteſt you are alive—that ſon of yours! he kills his father, before he is dead—that abettor of his miſchiefs!—he told me you was carried off ſuddenly, and now my two hundred pounds is carried off ſuddenly.

Sir Theodore.

I am thunder-ſtruck!—I am as much amazed as you was this moment!—You ſhock me, Mr. Oldcaſtle—Could my ſon engage in ſuch a ſcene of wickedneſs?

Oldcaſtle.

I am ſorry to ſay it; but I fear he is a very wicked young man—they have impoſed upon me; he has robbed me—this money is got for the vileſt purpoſes, to enable him to fly in your face, and carry off a little wench that is not worth a groat.

Sir Theodore.

Not worth a groat!—and he had the aſſurance to refer me to you-ſaid ſhe had an eſtate, that there was a borough upon it, and that you knew all the particulars.

Oldcaſtle.

Borough upon her eſtate!—ha! ha! yes, yes, I know the particulars; lackaday, Sir Theodore, who do you think ſhe is?—a milliner's 'prentice that has eloped from her miſtreſs.

Sir Theodore.

My blood fires at him—I am out of all patience Mr. Oldcaſtle—thus my family is to be diſgraced by a worthleſs hair-brained blockhead!—a milliner's 'prentice!

Oldcaſtle.

Even ſo!

Sir Theodore.

The fool! the coxcomb! the—here, I'll pay you back your money—

Oldcaſtle.

No, you need not do that—get it back from him—it will burn in his pocket—the ſooner he leaves the town the better; I ſhall be at eaſe, if I once hear he is gone—

Sir Theodore.

Mr. Oldcaſtle, you are very good to feel ſo much concern in this affair—

Oldcaſtle.

Yes, I have a deep concern in it; but hark ye, Sir Theodore—don't let him know you had your information from me—

Sir Theodore.
[41]

No—you may depend upon me—not a ſyllable.

Exit.
Oldcaſtle.

When he is gone, I ſhall ſleep in peace—I ſaid I would do him a good turn with his father.

Exit.
SCENE Lovibond's.
Enter Harriet.

How my heart it beats!—poſt haſte—gallop! gallop! and no wonder; it's a dangerous experiment I have tried—could I but convey this letter—Mr. Belford then would know my meaning—huſh! here comes my turn-key!—

Enter Lovibond.
Lovibond.

Well Harriet, I have executed your commiſſion—

Harriet.

How did he receive it?

Lovibond.

He was very much mortified, tho' I thought I marked, as he went off, an odd ſort of a dry conſtrained ſmile.

Harriet.

But I ſhall have no more reaſon to complain of him, I hope.—

Lovibond.

Ha! ha! I almoſt pitied the poor devil—

Harriet.

He deſerves no pity, Mr. Lovibond—he is a ſad wretch—

Lovibond.

I believe it—But he knows he was engaged in a vain purſuit;—he ſaid ſo himſelf, and bid me aſſure you he would loſe no more time.

Harriet.

That revives me;—

Lovibond.

No—no—he will hardly come this way again.

Harriet.

I don't know what to ſay to that—I dread the contrary—I am afraid he will not renounce me for ever ſo eaſily as you may imagine—

Lovibond.

And, pray, what reaſon have you for thinking ſo?

Harriet.
[42]

I have terrible proofs againſt him—while you was out he came again under my window.

Lovibond.

Ay!

Harriet.

I ran away at the ſight of him—but the window being open, he flung this little box into the room with a letter in it.

Lovibond.

A letter in it!—

Harriet.

Yes, the wicked contriver! a letter in it—I ran to the window to throw it to him again, but he was gone, and then it occurred to me that it might not be quite ſo prudent to throw it into the ſtreet, leſt it ſhould fall into the hands of malicious people, who might miſinterpret appearances to my diſadvantage.

Lovibond.

That was wiſely judged.—

Harriet.

I have been ever ſince thinking that it ought to be returned, and if I had a proper perſon—

Lovibond.

Who ſo proper as myſelf? let me have it.

Harriet.

No—no—it would affront him more if delivered by a common porter.

Lovibond.

Excuſe me, I am the fitteſt perſon—a letter in a box!—what contrivances they have!—I'll take care he ſhall have it, and he will look ſo ſilly when he perceives all his ſchemes are blaſted.

Harriet.

Why indeed, it will aſtoniſh him the more, if you deliver it—

Lovibond.

So it will—ha! ha!—it will be a rare ſtroke of revenge—ha! ha!

Harriet.
[ſhe laughs]

The neweſt that ever was—

Lovibond.

I like it of all things—but firſt let me ſee the contents of his letter—

Harriet.

Dear heart, not for the world—would you give the horrid man room to imagine that a girl of character would ſo much as open the ſeal of his filthy letter?—let me adviſe, Mr. Lovibond; to return it unopened will be the ſtrongeſt mark of contempt, and the greateſt affront that can be put upon him—

Lovibond.
[43]

There is ſomething in that—your wiſdom charms me—you endear yourſelf to me more and more every hour—

Harriet.

You'll uſe your own diſcretion whether to open it or not—But the reaſons I have given—

Lovibond.

Are to me concluſive—I'll about this buſineſs directly—ha! ha! we'll put the greateſt affront in the world upon him—ha! ha! the trueſt mark of contempt, ha! ha! good-by, roſe-bud, good-by.

Exit.
Harriet.

Yes, yes, let him have it unopened—If this plot takes, I ſhall have my utmoſt wiſh—and making him my convenient, my go-between in the buſineſs, gives life and ſpirit to the plot—I'll outwit him, if I can—

Exit.
SCENE Sir Theodore's Houſe.
Enter Brumpton and Briſk.
Brumpton.

Admirably managed, Briſk! now I have the ſinews of war —

toſſing up a purſe.
Briſk.

It was got out of the fire, I promiſe you, Sir—

Brumpton.

Your ſervices are of higher value for it—

Brumpton.

And yet I fear my ſervices may one day or other bring me to—What do you think your father will ſay to me?

Brumpton.

Po! abſurd—Mr. Oldcaſtle will talk matters over with him—I deſired my father to make it his buſineſs to ſee my friend Oldcaſtle—

Briſk.

You deſired him to do that, did you?—

Brumpton.

Yes, I deſired him—

Briſk.

And his coming was owing to you—

Brumpton.

Yes, yes;—ha! ha!—it was I occaſioned that—I deſired him to go—

Briſk.

Then pray deſire any body elſe but Briſk to go on your errands for the future—more misfortunes!—here comes Sir Theodore; ſettle it as well as [44] you can with him—I waſh my hands of it, and now legs do your office.

runs off.
Enter Sir Theodore.
Sir Theodore.

So, Sir!

[pauſes, and looks at him]

Thou graceleſs!—thou ungrateful!

Brumpton.

What's in the wind now?

aſide.
Sir Theodore.

Eaſy, calm unfeeling prodigal!—

Brumpton.

Sir, theſe are words that—

Sir Theodore.

That you deſerve, and worſe, if indignation did not choak them here—look ye, Sir, I ſpared no pains in your education;—expence, indulgence, care, affection, all that a fond father could beſtow, were yours—I hoped to ſee you a young man of principle, governed by ſentiments of honour, a credit, and a comfort to me—but what a ſad reverſe of all this!—Your reputation gone, your character blaſted, and vile expedients every day made uſe of.

Brumpton.

Upon my word, Sir, this bitterneſs of reproach—how have I deſerved—

Sir Theodore.

How deſerved!—

[pauſes, and looks at him]

and dare you aſk the queſtion?—refund that money, Sir,—the two hundred pounds, out of which you have gulled an eaſy worthy friend of mine—reſtore it this moment, or perhaps it may be the laſt you will ever handle—

Brumpton.

And where is the mighty harm, Sir.

Sir Theodore.

I have no patience with you—I have lived too long for you, have I?—The ſand lingers in the glaſs, and you want to ſhake it out!—return that money this inſtant, or never look me in the face again—

Brumpton.

If it muſt be ſo, Sir,—but if you will pleaſe to hear me—

Sir Theodore.

Po! po!—I have full conviction—for the meaneſt purpoſes too this ſtratagem was contrived!—to run counter to my will, and carry off a little obſcure girl—and ſo live deſpiſed—a ſcandal to your father, and a laughing ſtock to all your acquaintance [45] —go, and reform, ſet out for the country directly, or never darken my doors again—

Exit.
Brumpton.

What the devil can I make of all this!—I am certainly out of luck to-day—It does not ſignify—I'll purſue Mary Ann with more ſpirit than ever—I'll to her houſe this moment,—ſince difficulties come in my way, genius muſt ſurmount them, that's all.

Exit.
SCENE Oldcaſtle's Houſe.
Enter Oldcaſtle and Mary Ann.
Mary Ann.

A mortal ſin!

Oldcaſtle.

Yes, a mortal ſin!—you are unexperienced in theſe matters—It is a ſin, child, to accept of preſents from men, twees, fans, and Bruſſels lace,—Bruſſels lace has done as much miſchief as the forbidden fruit—I wiſh I had bred her up a Quaker

aſide

mind my words—to indulge wanton young men in liberties with your perſon,—to let 'em fold you round the waiſt, play with your neck, and print laſcivious kiſſes on your lips, 'tis the ſure road to deſtruction—'tis horrible, Mary Ann, horrible and abominable—

Mary Ann.

Ah! but I don't believe that—and a pity it ſhould, for

[ſmiling at him]

it's very agreeable—I am ſure I like it better than queſtions and commands, or the fool in the middle, or hide and go ſeek, either —

Oldcaſtle.

I tell you they are all abominable things till the marriage-ceremony is performed—

Mary Ann.

And is it allowed then?

Oldcaſtle.

Then, and then only, Mary Ann—

Mary Ann.
[ſmiling.]

By goles, I am glad to hear that, and ſo marry me as ſoon as you will—I ſhall be pure and happy with him, then—

Oldcaſtle.

With whom?

Mary Ann.
[46]

Why, with that ſweet charming young—Ah! look you there—

Oldcaſtle.

Hold, beware, Mary Ann—I marry you for myſelf only—you muſt deſpiſe and deteſt all others—

Mary Ann.

Ah! I never ſhall find it in my heart to hate him—

Oldcaſtle.

It will be the deſtruction of you even to think of him—Look you, child; mark well my admonitions—

[ſits down.]

Come hither—hold up your head, child,—Liſten attentively—

[he raiſes her head.]

I take you to my bed, Mary Ann, my true and lawful wife—But take heed—for but now you was tumbling headlong down the gulph of perdition—

Mary Ann.

I wiſh you would let me go and feed my birds.

Oldcaſtle.

Compoſe your thoughts, I ſay—Marriage is an holy inſtitution, and exacts rigorous duties on the part of the wife—you muſt love, honour, and obey your huſband, therefore be upon your guard—the enemy of womankind is for ever prowling about in queſt of prey, always ready to ſeduce, to murder, and devour, and ſwallow up in the jaws of ruin every frail young creature that comes in his way—

Mary Ann.
[burſts into tears.]

But they ſhan't ſwallow me up, ſo they ſhan't—

Oldcaſtle.

Ay! ay! this will do her good—Come, come, dry up your tears

Mary Ann.
[ſobbing.]

I did not do any thing to be run away with in the jaws of ruin, ſo I did not—

Oldcaſtle.

No—no—all will be well—'tis for your good I ſpeak—ſo—ſo—ſo—have done crying—I know you'll be good—there—make me a curteſy—mighty well—be a good girl—

Mary Ann.

Ah! but they ſhan't murder, and devour me, for there are folks enough in London all hours of the day to aſſiſt a body; and if he comes in the night, I can call the watch, ſo I can—

Oldcaſtle.
[47]

I am pleaſed with her ſimplicity—This young profligate that you have let into my houſe, if he ſhould c [...]me under your window again—That's right—I have a thought—you ſhall fling him out all his preſents—you ſhall write him a letter, and tell him what a monſter he is,—Come, take that chair—ſit down—take that pen, and write as I dictate to you—

Mary Ann.
[ſitting down.]

Law! I does not underſtand all this—

Oldcaſtle.
[walking about.]

Write as I dictate—Come, begin—Mr. Brumpton

[goes to the ſide of the ſcene.]

Peter, bring me up a candle—

Mary Ann.

"Dear Mr. Brumpton!—

Oldcaſtle.

Mr. Brumpton, and no more—

Mary Ann.
[ſmiling aſide]

—Very well—

Oldcaſtle.
[walking about.]

You are a vile man, and your viſits I now ſee ſprung from a bad deſign—

Mary Ann.
[aſide.]

Ah! I don't like thoſe words—By goles

[ſmiling as his back is turned.]

I know what I'll do—

[ſtifling a laugh.]

I have wrote it—

Oldcaſtle.

To ruin my future happineſs—

Mary Ann.

Happineſs—

Oldcaſtle.

Your intention is baſe,—and unworthy of a gentleman—

Mary Ann.

Very well—

Oldcaſtle.

You are odious in your perſon;—deteſtable in your morals—and the ſcorn of all our ſex—have you wrote it?

Mary Ann.

Stay—ſtay—then—all our ſex—

Oldcaſtle.

I am in love with Mr. Biddulph.

Mary Ann.

Who?

Oldcaſtle.

Write as I bid you—I am in love with Mr. Biddulph,—a worthy good gentleman—and out of his hands—it never ſhall be in your power—to ſeduce me—

Mary Ann.
[ſmiling.]

Very well—

Oldcaſtle.

Therefore let me never ſee you any more—Mary Ann Richley.

Mary Ann.
[48]

Mary Ann Richley—

Oldcaſtle.

Now let me read it—

Mary Ann.

Ah!—ſtay, ſtay a moment—Not quite done—

Enter Peter.
Peter.

Here be the candle, maſter—the gentleman is walking under the window now—

Oldcaſtle.

Is he?—make haſte—fold up the letter—let me do it—let me do it, make haſte—come, come, diſpatch, he'll be gone, elſe—you ſhall throw it to him now, and all his preſents—come, come, make haſte.

Mary Ann.

Ah! I am ready—I like this of all things—

Exeunt in a violent hurry.
SCENE the Street.
Enter Belford and Lovibond.
Lovibond.

Once more well met, Sir.—You can write I fancy, can't you?—

Belford.

The drift of that queſtion, Sir?—

Lovibond.

I fancy you know this little bauble—

ſhewing a box.

You don't know it to be ſure, no, nor the letter in the inſide—here take it back—I charge nothing for the poſtage—you have it unopened, in ſtatu quo

[opens the box.]

Look ye here; ha!—no direction upon it—that was cunning—here, here, you have it in good order, and well conditioned as it came—ha! ha!—Harriet will not read a word of it—ſhe had no curioſity about it—

Belford.

But I have

[aſide, and taking the letter, opens it.]

heavens bleſs her wit—

aſide, and reads.
Lovibond.

Ay! You know the hand-writing—Take notice you broke the ſeal yourſelf—none of us read a word of it—We return it unopened, to make the affront the deeper.

Belford.
[49]

I believe you, Sir—I ſee you never read a word of it—

Lovibond.

Not a ſyllable—her pride would not ſuffer it—

Belford.

Well, ſince it is come to this, being out of humour will avail nothing—Ha! ha! I can't help laughing—

Lovibond.

That's pleaſant of you—Ha! ha! ha!—

Belford.

Yes, very pleaſant—Ha! ha! ha!

Lovibond.

See what your intrigues are come to—

Belford.

Yes, Sir,—you have brought 'em to a fine paſs—

Lovibond.

Ay!—you ſee I am not to be tricked—

Enter Oldcaſtle.
Oldcaſtle.

Mr. Lovibond, I am wild with joy—

Lovibond.

And ſo am I—

Belford.

Who is that old fellow?

aſide, and reads his letter.
Oldcaſtle.

I have managed matters charmingly—Who is that ſpark?—

Lovibond.

You need not be ſhy of him—I'll venture to ſay you have not managed as well as I have, Mr. Old—

Oldcaſtle.

Call me Biddulph.

apart.
Lovibond.

Well! I fancy you will toſs no more letters in at the window.

Belford.

No truly, Sir, not I—and I beg you will aſſure the lady that—

Lovibond.

Ay! let us hear—you need not mind this gentleman—come, come, let us hear—now brother Old—

Oldcaſtle.

Call me Biddulph—

apart.
Lovibond.

Ay! now hear him, Mr. Biddulph.

Belford.

I beg the lady's pardon, Sir—I reſign, myſelf to her inclinations, and ſhall obey her commands—

Lovibond.

Very well—

Belford.
[50]

You are too powerful a rival, and ſince it is ſo, you will be pleaſed to tell her I moſt heartily approve of the choice ſhe has made—

Lovibond.

Do you hear that?—

to Oldcaſtle.
Belford.

Her ſuperior ſenſe ſhines forth in every action of her life, and, Sir, I will only add that I ſhall never give her cauſe to complain again—you will report me to the lady, and, Sir, I take my leave.

Exit.
Lovibond.

There, there, you ſee what an happy man I am—

Oldcaſtle.

Well, and now let me tell you

Lovibond.

I can't ſtay to hear—I am in the elements with joy—brother Oldcaſtle, your ſervant—

Exit.
Oldcaſtle.

But, brother Lovibond, let me tell you—po! an envious man, he can't bear a neighbour's happineſs—lackaday! I wiſh he had ſtaid, for here comes that graceleſs young—

Enter Brumpton humming a tune.
Oldcaſtle.

Well, Mr. Brumpton—the young dog, nothing affects him

[aſide]

Well, and your intrigues, how go they on?

Brumpton.

Oh!—I longed to ſee you—you have not been able to reconcile my father, I find—

Oldcaſtle.

No, I did all I could—I ſpoke very handſomely of you to Sir Theodore, I aſſure you—

Brumpton.

And yet he is worſe than ever—

Oldcaſtle.

He is very poſitive—well! but the buſineſs of your love—

Brumpton.

Why, it was likely to be ſomewhat embarraſſed—

Oldcaſtle.

I long to hear it.

[aſide]

As how pray?

Brumpton.

The old curmudgeon is returned from the country—

Oldcaſtle.

Ay!

Brumpton.

The ſervants have changed their tone, and the door is ſhut in my face.

Oldcaſtle.
[51]

I can't help laughing—ha! ha! this Mr. Biddulph knows what he is about, I fancy—

Brumpton.

Po!—the fellow is fitter to have the funeral ſervice read over him than the marriage ceremony—he made her come to the balcony—

Oldcaſtle.

Well! and how was that?

Brumpton.

He muffled himſelf up behind the curtain,—I could not diſtinguiſh him—ſhe threw me out ſome trinkets, I had given her—But, my dear friend, ſhe flung a letter with 'em—

Oldcaſtle.

I long to hear about that—

Brumpton.

The contents of it amazed me—

Oldcaſtle.

I dare ſay—ſhe told you her mind, I reckon—

Brumpton.

Moſt freely, moſt openly—ha! ha! old Noſtrodamus is outwitted—for, look you here—here in her own fair hand—ten thouſand bleſſings on her

[kiſſes the letter]

Here, Sir, the genuine dictates of her heart—

Oldcaſtle.

He is mad, ſure!—let me ſee it—

Brumpton.
[reads]

‘Dear Mr. Brumpton, you are a charming man, and your civilities, I am ſure ſprung, from an honeſt deſign, for my future happineſs.’

Oldcaſtle.

In the name of wonder, what is all this!

aſide.
Brumpton.
[reads]

‘Your intentions are generous, and worthy of a gentleman—’

Oldcaſtle.

The little hypocritical ſorcereſs!

aſide.
Brumpton.
[reads]

‘You are handſome in your perſon,—and your manners alſo; and the admiration of all our ſex—’

Oldcaſtle.

Oh! the Jezebel!

aſide.
Brumpton.
[reads]

‘I hate Mr. Biddulph, an odious old wretch; and’

Oldcaſtle.

The vile harlotry!

aſide.
Brumpton.
reads

‘And out of my guardian's hands, it is in your power to relieve me—Yours [52]indeed, and indeed, until death us do part—Mary Ann Richley.’

Oldcaſtle.

—She has reverſed every word of it!

Brumpton.

There's an adventure! ha! ha! ha!—is not ſhe a charming girl? you don't partake of my joy.—

Oldcaſtle.

Partake of your joy—I—I—I—yes.

looking uneaſy.
Brumpton.

What a way old Biddulph will be in!—

Oldcaſtle.

Why, I muſt ſay I feel for him—

Brumpton.

Feel for him! a wretch like that!—ſo ungenerous a guardian,—ſo baſe a betrayer of his truſt! who could offer his withered ſuperannuated love to the ſweeteſt girl, and with the winter of old age nip ſo much beauty in its bud!—January and May joined together!—does not that make you laugh?—

Oldcaſtle.

I am afraid of laughing, tho' I love it of all things—it ſets me a coughing always—well! but trouble may come of all this—

Brumpton.

Never be uneaſy—an't you amazed at my ſucceſs?

Oldcaſtle.

I am, indeed—I never was ſo confounded in all my days

aſide

I wiſh as heartily as a miniſter of ſtate that there was not ſuch a thing as pen, ink, and paper in the kingdom.

aſide.
Brumpton.

What's the matter with you?—

Oldcaſtle.

A megrim has ſuddenly taken me—take care what you do—Mr. Oldcaſtle, you are a blockhead, an overweening, cuckoldy blockhead!

[aſide]

—I wiſh your father mayn't hear of this—Oh! the vile baggage, I muſt run home directly—

Exit.
Brumpton.

How indifferent the old muckworm is grown!—but this dear enchanting letter!—Oh! this joy is too powerful—Sir Theodore never made this leg—ha! ha!—

[53] Enter Belford.
Belford.

Brumpton, are you in good humour? May I venture to—

Brumpton.

Belford, let me embrace you—I tread in air—

embracing him.
Belford.

My dear Brumpton, I too am wild with joy—I am out of my ſenſes—

walks about humming a tune.
Brumpton.
[hums a different tune.]

—Oh! ſuch an unexpected, tranſporting, raviſhing event—

Belford.

Such a ſurprize, above all romance—

Brumpton.

Oh! Belford, I am the happieſt rogue.

Belford.

Such unutterable bliſs, my dear boy—

Brumpton.

Her wit is equal to her beauty—

Belford.

The greateſt ſtroke of invention,—Ha! ha!

Brumpton.

Such a ſweet epiſtle—

Belford.

So divine a letter—and the old fellow brought it himſelf—

Brumpton.

No—no—you miſtake; ſhe flung it out of the window.

Belford.

Po!—I tell you he was the bearer of it himſelf—

Brumpton.

You are quite wrong; ſhe was in the balcony, and—

Belford.

Pſhaw! give me leave to know—did not I ſee him?

Brumpton.

There was no ſeeing him diſtinctly;—he was ſkulking behind the curtain—and then ſhe threw the letter down to me,—Oh! the idol of my heart!—the lovely Mary Ann!—

Belford.

Mary Ann!—you are the moſt perplexing—'ſdeath! I was telling you how my ſweet goddeſs contrived to ſend me a letter by her very guardian—

Brumpton.

I did not hear a ſyllable of that matter—I was telling you—

Belford.

Then I'll tell you how it was—

Brumpton.
[54]

No—no—hear the ſtory of my happineſs.

Belford.

Nay, nay; mine is the moſt ſurprizing.

Brumpton.

Look ye here, my boy

[ſhewing a letter.]

—the work of her own fingers!

Belford.

There, there—

[ſhewing his letter]

more eloquence than in all Cicero.

Brumpton.
[reads.]

Dear Mr. Brumpton, you are a ſweet man, and your civilities—

each interrupting the order.
Belford.
[reads.]

You will be ſurprized at this letter; and more ſo at the manner of conveying it.

each interrupting the order.
Brumpton.
[reads]

The admiration of all our ſex.

each interrupting the order.
Belford.
[reads.]

But I muſt hazard all, or fall a ſacrifice to the avarice of my guardian—

each interrupting the order.
Brumpton.
[reads.]

And out of his hands it is in your power to relieve me—

both reading at the ſame time very eagerly.
Belford.
[reads.]

I love you, Mr. Belford; will you deſpiſe me for telling you ſo? I hope not.

both reading at the ſame time very eagerly.
Brumpton.
[reads.]

Yours indeed, and indeed, until death us do part, Mary Ann Richley.

both reading at the ſame time very eagerly.
Belford.
[reads.]

Contrive ſome means for my eſcape, and heaven and earth combined ſhall not keep you from me—the diſconſolate Harriet.

Exeunt together.
both reading at the ſame time very eagerly.
End of the Third ACT.

ACT IV.

[55]
Enter Oldcaſtle and Lovibond.
Lovibond.

YES, ſhe told me all about the young rake-hell's viſits, gave me back his letter unopened, to return it to him with my own hands—Is not ſhe a miracle of goodneſs and ſuperior ſenſe?

Oldcaſtle.

It was very ſenſible—how often will you aſk me?

Lovibond.

Is not ſhe trained up in the paths that ſhe ſhould walk?—When will Mary Ann do as much?—

Oldcaſtle.

Ay! there it ſtings!—He has heard all, and I am blown!

aſide.
Lovibond.

I have ſeen my gentleman ſince—I have given him his letters;—told him what a mortal averſion ſhe has to him; and I warrant me, I have ſent him off with a flea in his ear.

Oldcaſtle.

I thought to ha' done the ſame by young Brumpton—but the minx has ſo bamboozled me!

aſide.
Lovibond.

You ſeem diſturbed—ha! ha! mortified at my ſucceſs, I ſuppoſe—ha! ha!—or ſome fly-flap has caught Mary Ann, and ſhe, poor thing—

Oldcaſtle.

He has hit the nail o'the head

aſide.

—You need not trouble your head about Mary Ann—leave her to my care, Sir—

Lovibond.

But, Mr. Oldcaſtle—

Oldcaſtle.

But, brother Lovibond—

Lovibond.

You are the ſtrangeſt man—

Oldcaſtle.

Po! po! you have no friendſhip for any body.

Lovibond.

No friendſhip!

Oldcaſtle.
[56]

None—all for yourſelf, and wiſhing for other people's misfortunes—

Lovibond.

This is your gratitude, Mr. Oldcaſtle—Did not I help you to a rich young ſpendthrift, who wanted a thouſand pounds; and did not he give you his bond, and then did not I make him draw a bill upon you for the money, and did not I bid you ſue him for both the bond and the bill? was not I a witneſs in the cauſe for you?—I'll have you indicted for ſubornation of perjury—

Oldcaſtle.

If you go to that, who taught you to ſink ſhips in the chops of the channel?

Lovibond.

And who ſhewed you the way to be an engroſſer of corn, and a foreſtaller of markets?

Oldcaſtle.

Your ſmuggling, Mr. Lovibond—

Lovibond.

Your uſury, Mr. Oldcaſtle—

Oldcaſtle.

Mighty well—I ſee what it's come to—Theſe are the thanks I meet with—I, that firſt laid the ſcheme of keeping theſe girl's fortune all to ourſelves—Here ends all intercourſe between us; I break off; I have no more to ſay to you—and ſo now you know my reſolution—

Exit.
Lovibond.

Ha! ha! what a turmoil the poor man has put himſelf in!—ha! ha! Things are going wrong with him—I never ſhall be at reſt, till I ſee the bottom of all this—

Exit.
Enter Sir Theodore and Briſk.
Sir Theodore.

And look ye, Sir—If ever you preſume to meddle again between father and ſon—

Brisk.

I meddle, Sir, between—

Sir Theodore.

If ever again I lay my finger upon a ſingle act of yours—

Brisk.

Sir, if you would permit me, all this expence of paſſion might be ſaved—I have to be ſure been caught tripping a little or ſo; but it is never too late to take up; I have reflected upon the matter, and without any great pretence to more wiſdom than falls to the ſhare of the like of me—I have obtain'd [57] my diſmiſſion, and bid adieu to my maſter's ſervice for ever—

Sir Theodore.

Quitted his ſervice, have you?

Brisk.

Yes, Sir, I am going down to my father's in the country—My father's in a very pretty way; has ſome very good farms, and ſo I think to ſettle there for the reſt of my days—

Sir Theodore.

I am glad of this, ſirrah, and ſince you have left him, I forgive you, do you ſee;—here, here's ſomething to bear your expences down—I commend your reſolution much—But hark ye, Briſk—now you are going,—it will be honeſt of you to inform me,—it will make ſome amends for what is paſt—is my ſon really in love with this girl?

Brisk.

At preſent he is, but law! Sir, if ſhe were once remov'd out of his way—

Sir Theodore.

That is what I have been thinking of—that would do the buſineſs, would not it?—

Brisk.

Moſt clearly, Sir—out of ſight, out of mind with him—If in return for your honour's goodneſs, by any little ſervice in my poor way—

Sir Theodore.

I thank you, Briſk, I thank you—but there will be no occaſion for you—I have employed an elderly body, a good cunning matron-like woman, who underſtands the whole art of laying ſpringes for young damſels.

Brisk.

Nothing can be better imagined, Sir—

Sir Theodore.

She is to inſinuate herſelf into the houſe, as ſuch people know how to do—

Brisk.

No doubt, Sir—

Sir Theodore.

And then when ſhe has allured my young madam abroad with her, ſhe ſhall then be ſo diſpoſed off, that he may beat the buſh long enough, before he finds her, I warrant him—

Brisk.

You have hit upon the only way in the world, Sir—

Sir Theodore.

It is an honeſt artifice, Briſk, to reſcue the coxcomb from deſtruction—I wiſh you well, Briſk, I wiſh you well.

Exit.
Brisk.
[58]

Health attend your honour!—So, here's a mine detected!—and my maſter is flying wild about the town, thinking it's all enchanted ground he treads, and at laſt he'll be blown up in the air—with all my heart let him; let him ſee how he looks when he comes down again—and yet—there again now, temptations are beginning their old trade—well, ſomething muſt be done, and ſo now mine away, Sir Theodore;—be as good a pioneer as you will, I warrant me I'll countermine you—

Exit
SCENE Oldcaſtle's Houſe.
Enter Peter and Bridget.
Peter.

It's pure lucky, Bridget, he did not find the gentleman in the cloſet—

Bridget.

He lay cloſe all the time like a mouſe in a cheeſe—and maſter walked about the room, and gnawed his lip, and gnaſhed his teeth,—and gave the table an hugeous rap with his ſtick,—and fetched a deep groan, and did not ſay ſo much as one word, and then led Miſs Mary Ann out of the room—

Peter.

I'll tell you what, Bridget, it's all owing to his finding out the young gentleman's viſits here to miſs Mary Ann—

Bridget.

Yes, yes;—it ſtands to reaſon how it muſt be that—dear me! he locks poor miſs Mary Ann up here for all the world like an horſe in a pound, and I can't tell why or by reaſon whereof, not I—

Peter.

I'll tell you, Bridget—I underſtand theſe matters—he locks her up do you ſee, becauſe as why he is troubled with jealouſy—

Bridget.

But how ſhould that enter his head?

Peter.

Oh! that pops into his head, becauſe—

Bridget.

What is jealouſy pray, Peter?

Peter.

Dear heart, you are ſuch another—jealouſy, you may know, won't let a body ſleep—it's for all the world, like ſo many rats behind the wainſcot-,-I'll tell [59] you now by way of likeneſs—the gentleman you know gaved you a guinea—now putting caſe, any body was to come for to take away your guinea, do you ſee—that would put you in a paſſion would not it?—

Bridget.

Oh!—I underſtand it now—

Peter.

It's as like it as any thing—for ſee but here—Miſs Mary Ann is his guinea—and you know when a body wants to be fingering another man's money, what does he do then?—why he brings you down to ſizes an whole heap of London counſel, to quarrel about it, and abuſe one another, and be together by the ears for ever ſo many hours—

Bridget.

I remember all that, and it's as like miſs Mary Ann as it can ſtare—but then I want to know why does not every body make the ſame fuſs, and lock his wife up too?

Peter.

Po! you fool! that's becauſe every body does not love his wife as well as a guinea—

Bridget.

Then I underſtands the whole git of it—but law!—look ye there—

Peter.

It's maſter, as ſure as a gun—how he looks, Bridget!—let us get out of his way—

Exeunt.
Enter Oldcaſtle

The perfidious jade!—what a trick ſhe has played me!—Oh! the little, treacherous—

Enter Mary Ann.
Mary Ann.

Law! you look ſo ſtrange, you are enough to frighten a body—

Oldcaſtle.

Mary Ann, I have ſeen Mr. Brumpton—

Mary Ann.

Have you?

laughs aſide.
Oldcaſtle.

He was wonderfully pleaſed with your letter—

Mary Ann.
[ſmiling aſide]

By goles, I know why.

Oldcaſtle.

What did you ſay to him?

Mary Ann.

Say to him!

turns away and ſmiles.
Oldcaſtle.

Did you write what I bid you?

Mary Ann.
[60]
[laughing]

Altered it a little bit!

Oldcaſtle.

A good deal, I fancy.

Mary Ann.
[laughs]

By gingo, I played you that trick—

Oldcaſtle.

And was not it baſe, to deceive your guardian, who loves you dearly, and intends to make you his wedded wife?

Mary Ann.

I could not find it in my heart to ſay the things you wanted me—

Oldcaſtle.

And don't you conſider what a crime it is!—

Mary Ann.

It was only to play upon you—

Oldcaſtle.

But ſuch wicked letters, Mary Ann—

Mary Ann.

It was you ſhewed me the way—how ſhould I have thought of ſuch a thing?

Oldcaſtle.

That ſtings, that galls—

[aſide.]

But there are women, Mary Ann, who can write without being bid—

Mary Ann.

What, all out of their own heads!

Oldcaſtle.

Even ſo—

Mary Ann.

And what do they write?

Oldcaſtle.

They make aſſignations; inform their gallants, when their huſbands are to be from home;—they fix the time for amorous meetings, at routs and drums—

Mary Ann.

Routs and drums!—What be they?

Oldcaſtle.

Wicked aſſemblies!—where women loſe more than they can pay, and then pawn their perſons together with the huſband's honour, and ſo infamouſly pay off the debts they have contracted.

Mary Ann.

And then do the men toy and play, and take 'em round the waiſt—

Oldcaſtle.

Ay!—then their point is gained—

Mary Ann.
[ſmiling.]

That's comical enough.

Oldcaſtle.

And then they fly wild about this town;—to the ſeducing gaieties of Vaux-hall and Ranelagh—

Mary.

Law! I never heard of thoſe—

Oldcaſtle.

Ranelagh, child, is a wicked round of ſin, intrigue, and clandeſtine love; where crowds [61] gather together, ſtealing glances, exchanging letters, negotiating riotous pleaſures—Vaux-hall is a very Paradiſe of forbidden fruits, where ſhady walks exclude the conſcious day, and every blandiſhment of ſenſe, muſick, wine, and opportunity, conſpire to waken the voluptuous paſſions.

Mary Ann.
[ſmiling.]

And muſt not Mary Ann ſee thoſe places?

Oldcaſtle.

No—never—never, Mary Ann—Here—here is the marriage act for you to read—all young girls ought to have it by heart—This will teach them how unnatural it is to fall in love without the conſent of king, lords, and commons!

Mary Ann.

Ah! but I can't ſtay for their leave—thy are too great folks for me to think of!—

Oldcaſtle.

Take it up-ſtairs with you—It is a very edifying tract!—

Mary Ann.

Very well, I'll go—

[as ſhe is going.]

I'll go and try if I can't write a letter out of my own head—

Exit.
Oldcaſtle.

When ſhe has read the marriage act, ſhe will have a proper ſenſe of her duty. So Peter!—ſo Bridget!—walk in—

Enter Peter and Bridget.
Oldcaſtle.

Now if I can tutor theſe to my mind—

aſide.
Bridget.

For the love of mercy, Sir,—

Peter.

I'll never do ſo any more, maſter—

Oldcaſtle.

Come hither both—I am not angry—you are no ſtrangers to the affection I bear Mary Ann—

Bridget.

No, that's for ſure—you love her as well as you do a guinea—

Oldcaſtle.

How now, Malapert!

Bridget.

I am ſure Peter ſaid ſo—

Peter.

No—not I—for the varſal world!—

Oldcaſtle.
[62]

What's the matter, Numſkulls!—Liſten to me—watch my houſe well;—and be ſure you neve let any powdered fops put a foot over the threſhold of my door—

Bridget.

Yes, Sir!

Peter.

No, Sir!

Oldcaſtle.

But the wily arts of young men;—Think of a gay embroidered coxcomb coming to you with a piteous look: "I languiſh for your miſtreſs; I die in her abſence; let me but ſee her, or elſe I have one foot in my grave already"—

Peter.

Be gone about your buſineſs, fellow, ſays I—this is no place for you—My young miſtreſs deſires no ſuch trumpery.

Oldcaſtle.

Mighty well, Peter, it can't be better—But you, Mrs. Bridget, will take ſome compaſſion upon a poor dying ſwain—

Bridget.

Go farther a field, and ſet up the ſign of the horns ſomewhere elſe—do—no admittance for you here—

Oldcaſtle.

Charming, Bridget, charming—you do it wonderfully—But then ſays he "I'll lie down in the ſtreet, and there breathe my laſt—

Peter.

And then I run up to the garret-window, and ſouce a bucket of water on his head—

Oldcaſtle.

Excellent! excellent!—it will cool his paſſion for him—have a bucket of water always ready—Ha! ha! I ſhould like to ſee him ſtreaming like a river god in the ſtreet—I am delighted with you both—But then he comes with his damned bewitching gold—Here, Peter, to drink my health—Here Mrs. Bridget, to buy you ſome tea.

Peter.

We want none of your droſs—

Bridget.

No—not we—

ſhewing Oldcaſtle.
Oldcaſtle.

That's right—ſhove me—puſh me away.

Peter.

Go about your buſineſs, I ſay—

both shoving him.
Bridget.

Money is the root of all evil

both shoving him.
Oldcaſtle.

As I could wiſh—that's right—never ſpare me—

Peter.
[63]

We hate you as we do a toad.

puſhing him.
Bridget.

You vile ugly thing.

puſhing him.
Peter.

We can't endure the ſight of you—

puſhing him.
Bridget.

You midnight owl! you griping, miſerly, old—

puſhing him.
Oldcaſtle.

There, there, hold, hold—But here, ſays he, here's the money for you

holding out money.
Peter.

I humbly thank your honour

takes it.
Oldcaſtle.

Villain! traitor!

[ſtrikes him.]

Is this your virtue at laſt?

Peter.

Law! what's the matter? was not I to take it?

Oldcaſtle.

What have I been labouring all this time?—

Peter.

But you did not ſhew the money at firſt—I could have refuſed it ever ſo long, if I had not ſeen the colour of it.—

Oldcaſtle.

The way of the world—But you are never to take it—Money is the ruin of the world—It declares war,—it patches up a peace,—it makes lawyers ſpeak,—it makes ſome folks hold their tongues,—Go, and think of all this—

Bridget. Peter.
[going in an hurry.]

Yes, Sir!

Oldcaſtle.

And remember you have no buſineſs with money—Come, and ſhut the ſtreet-door after me.

Bridget. Peter.

Yes, Sir,—

they run out.
SCENE the Street.
Enter Lovibond.
Lovibond.

I muſt pay a friendly viſit to brother Oldcaſtle—Ha! ha! I know things are going wrong with him—I muſt gratify my curioſity—

Enter Oldcaſtle.
Oldcaſtle.

Brother Lovibond! I go on as I could wiſh—my family is all as exact as clock-work—

Lovibond.
[64]

I am glad of it, for the laſt time I met you—

Oldcaſtle.

I beg your pardon,—but now, loll toll loll! I am completely happy.

Enter Brumpton.
Brumpton.

My dear old friend, I am glad I have met you—Oh! ſuch plague! ſuch vexation!

Oldcaſtle.

Mind him, brother Lovibond—you'll ſee what order my family is in—

aſide.
Brumpton.

I was at the houſe but a little while ſince, and—

Oldcaſtle.

And no admittance, I warrant—

Brumpton.

Oh! the damndeſt adventure—

Oldcaſtle.

A bucket of water upon your head I reckon—ha! ha!—

Brumpton.

Not ſo bad as that—I got over the garden wall, and—the adventure is whimſical too—the ſervants immediately conducted me up ſtairs, and—

Oldcaſtle.

Conducted you up ſtairs!—

Lovibond.

Ha! ha!—mind him brother Biddul—

Oldcaſtle.
[aſide to Lovibond]

Call me Oldcaſtle—

Lovibond.

Come, come, liſten to this—

Brumpton.

But, pox take it—my uſual good fortune failed me—I was not in the room two minutes when old Stiff-rump came tottering up—no way for a retreat—I was obliged to ſkulk in a dark nook, where I was almoſt ſtifled—In he came, and the lovely angel immediately accoſted him in ſuch a tone of ſimplicity—

Lovibond.

Simplicity—ha! ha!—well, well,—let us hear—

Brumpton.

The curmudgeon did not utter a ſyllable—walked about the room, fetched a deep groan,—banged the table with his cane,—took her by the arm,—and led her away with him—

Lovibond.

Ha! ha! a narrow eſcape—brother Biddulph—

Oldcaſtle.
[65]

Call me Oldcaſtle, I ſay.

Lovibond.

Ha! ha! — Simplicity is an admirable preſervative of young girls—Ha! ha! well, young gentlemen, and how did all this end?

Brumpton.

His back was no ſooner turned, than I ſtole down ſtairs, tipt the ſervant a couple of guineas, and ſo got clear off.

Lovibond.

The old gentleman is going on delightfully — his family is all like clock-work!—ha! ha! ha! — I have ſatisfied my curioſity — a good day to you.

Exit.
Oldcaſtle.

This is a mortal ſtroke!—Oh! Peter! Peter! Is this his virtue? — this his contempt of money!—this his bucket of water!

Exit.
Brumpton.

What a cruſty old Cent. per Cent. it is!

Enter Bellford.
Bellford.

Brumpton! — Well encountered—I have been in queſt of you this hour.—This is the very criſis of your fate, man.

Brumpton.

Hey! how! what's the matter?

Bellford.

A train of gunpowder is laid, and there is Sir Theodore with a lighted match ready to blow you to the moon.

Brumpton.

Explain, my dear boy, explain.

Bellford.

Why then, in plain Engliſh—your father has hired one of the good women who are ſkilled in the trade of leading young virgins aſide:—She, by his directions, is to tempt the miſtreſs of your heart abroad, and then to convey her out of the kingdom, where ſhe will be loſt to you for ever.

Brumpton.

'Sdeath! it ſhan't be. — I'll watch the houſe day and night. Where's that ſcoundrel Briſk?

Bellford.

Poor fellow, it was from him I had this information; he is out of his wits about this buſineſs!—

Brumpton.
[66]

Out of his wits! he is always out of the way.—Not a moment to be loſt—I'll to my poſt directly.—

Bellford.

My affairs are in a thriving way—

Brumpton.

I am glad to hear it—

Bellford.

Succeſs attend you.

Exit.
Brumpton.

Oh! the devil! here's a piece of buſineſs.

Exit.
SCENE another Street.
Enter Briſk, in Woman's Cloaths, with a Bundle under his Arm.

One puſh more, and then, Briſk, your toils are over—Come, that's the houſe.—As my maſter knows nothing of what I am about, I may have ſome chance to ſucceed here.—Now for a few ſuperannuated matron-like airs—

[knocks at the door.]

—I found out her mantua-maker by good luck, and ſo now I know my cue—

Knocks at the door.
Enter Peter.
Peter.

Did you want any body, pray? No admittance here!

Briſk.

Yes, truly, young man—La!—I am ſo jaded with walking—Oh! ſuch a pain in my ſide—and my head! it perfectly ſwims again—I muſt in and reſt a bit—I have brought your young lady's wedding-gown.

Enter Brumpton.
Brumpton.

How! is not that ſhe?—Oh! the deceitful Machiavel in petticoats.

Peter.

Why an you bring home her geers, that alters the caſe—walk in, Mrs.—

Exit.
Briſk.

Ay! the little lady-bird will be as fine as an angel, I warrant her.

goes in.
Brumpton.
[67]

Oh! the damned decoy-duck, there ſhe goes ſure enough—I'll wait for her in the ſtreet—'Sdeath! ſhe may get her out of the back-door—I'll alarm the old fellow directly—

[raps loudly.]

—The old bawd ſhall be put in the ſtocks—

[raps again.]

—Fire, fire, fire! Maſter Biddulph—

Oldcaſtle in the Balcony.
Oldcaſtle.

What's the matter there?—Who raps at my door in this—

Brumpton.

Mr. Biddulph, Mr. Biddulph—

Oldcaſtle.

What do you want?—

Brumpton.

You'll be robbed of your treaſure, of all your heart holds dear — Miſs Mary Ann will be ſtole from you—an old bawd will carry her off—ſhe's in your houſe now—now—now—now—

Oldcaſtle.

A bawd in my houſe? — I'll ferret her out, I warrant me—

goes in.
Brumpton.

Now, Sir Theodore, what becomes of your intrigue?—Bravo, Brumpton!—this is well managed.

Enter Briſk, and Oldcaſtle beating him.
Oldcaſtle.

Abominable procureſs! — Horrible ſorcereſs!—

Brumpton.
[beating him.]

Agent of darkneſs!—Miniſter of iniquity!

Briſk.

Nay, good gentlemen—

Oldcaſtle.

Vile ſeducer!—Deteſtable pandar!

Brumpton.

Poacher of young game!—Kidnapper of innocence!

Briſk.

For heaven's ſake!—I'm down o' my knees—have a little mercy!—

Oldaſtle.

Thou gipſy!—Thou witch of Endor!—

Brumpton.

Get upon your broomſtick and fly away to Lapland!—

Briſk.
[68]

The devil's in the man, he will ſpoil all—

[throwing off his woman's apparel.]

—Nay, then, ſince you go to that—your ſervant, maſter!—

Brumpton.

Confuſion! what have I been doing?

aſide.
Briſk.

You have been in luck as well as I, maſter!

Oldcaſtle.

A footman in petticoats all this time! Thou vile impoſtor!—Thou Newgate-bird.

[beats him again.]
Brumpton.

Wounds! maſter Oldcaſtle all this time! nay, then I muſt pretend—

[aſide.]

—How dare a ſervant of mine, raſcal—

[beats him.]
Briſk.

Wounds! Sir, it was in your ſervice.

Brumpton.

Who gave you orders, villain!—

ſtriking.
Oldcaſtle.

That's right!—Who gave you orders!

Brumpton.

By what authority!

Oldcaſtle.

Produce your authority!

Brumpton.

To take ſuch liberties with your maſter.

Briſk.

I ſhall take the liberty to leave him for ever!—

[runs off.]
Oldcaſtle.

This is delightful! this is charming! The villain will come no more—he has paid the piper!

Brumpton.

A ſcoundrel to behave in this manner! Oh, ho, ho! ſuch an incident!—

[in a fit of laughing.]

—An unlucky dog I am—Poor Briſk, oh, ho!

Oldcaſtle.

Mr. Brumpton!

Brumpton.

Mr. Oldcaſtle! What, are you Mr. Biddulph all this time?

Oldcaſtle.

You ſee what plague and vexation you was bringing upon your friend—

Brumpton.

My dear ſir, why did you not tell me at firſt!—If I had known that I was all this time treſpaſſing upon your ground—

Oldcaſtle.

You ſee what a ſcene of iniquity you have been engaged in!—But ſince you perceive [69] your error, I am pacified.—This diſcovery is lucky—it will make an end of all.—I'll tell you what, you ſhall come and explain your miſtake to Mary Ann this moment.

Brumpton.

With the utmoſt pleaſure, Sir, and wiſhing her all happineſs, I will bid her farewel for ever.

Oldcaſtle.

That will be right—you ſhall tell her that you repent, — that you now renounce all wicked projects, and are convinced it would be the ruin of her to marry you.

Brumpton.

Lead the way, Sir; I am ready to obey your commands.

Oldcaſtle.

Very well! enough ſaid—

going.
Brumpton.

One dear interview!—Bravo! Brumpton! you're in luck.

aſide.
Oldcaſtle.
[turning about.]

What do you ſay?

Brumpton.

Only that—you'll make a fair report of me to Sir Theodore—

Oldcaſtle.

Ay! ay! that I'll do—come along—

Enter Mary Ann in the Balcony.
Mary Ann.

La!—there's Mr. Brumpton with him—

Oldcaſtle.

You baggage, what do you do there?—Get you in—Did not you hear the people cry fire?

Mary Ann.

Aye!—but they cry ſo many things in London, I did not mind that—

Oldcaſtle.

Get you in, and never be ſeen in a balcony again!—It was there you ſaw her firſt, Mr. Brumpton;—ha! ha!—I'll have it taken down—Come along.

Exeunt.
[70] SCENE the Houſe.
Enter Mary Ann.

By goles this is pure—he is bringing him to ſee me—I have writ another letter ſince he has taught me that trick himſelf!—and now I'll give it him if I can—

Enter Oldcaſtle and Brumpton.
Oldcaſtle.

Mary Ann, I have brought the gentleman with me.—He came to aſk your pardon, and to tell you that he was going to be the ruin of you—Tell it to her yourſelf, Mr. Brumpton.

Mary Ann.

I am ſure I forgive him with all my heart, ſo I do.

Oldcaſtle.

Speak to her, Mr. Brumpton, ſpeak to her—

Brumpton.

Madam, I did not know what liberties I was taking with my friend,—and though my conduct was inſpired by real love, and your reſiſtleſs charms—

Oldcaſtle.

Pſhaw! that's all preamble—to the point at once—You had a mind to ruin her, ſay ſo without mincing it—

Brumpton.

I muſt now renounce all farther pretenſions,—ſince to adore you any longer would be a violation of friendſhip, and an injury to this worthy gentleman, who has been intimate with my father for fifty years—

Oldcaſtle.

You may paſs that by—

Mary Ann.

Ah! he's a falſe man, and I don't love him—

aſide.
Brumpton.

So that I moſt humbly beg your pardon—

Oldcaſtle.

Go on, go on—

he is ſeized with a fit of coughing.
Brumpton.
[71]
[while Oldcaſtle coughs.]

And though I ſhall never efface your loved idea from my mind—

he kiſſes his hand to her.
Mary Ann.
[ſhe ſmiles.]

You have my pardon, I told you ſo already.

Oldcaſtle.

Oh! lord! lord!

[recovering himſelf.]

Well, have you told her you have done with her for ever?

Brumpton.

Yes, I have got ſo far—

Oldcaſtle.

Very well! Now, Mary Ann, on your part, let him know your mind.

Mary Ann.

Muſt I ſay all out of my own head?

Oldcaſtle.

Ay! ay! tell him all—I wiſh brother Lovibond was witneſs to this!

aſide.
Mary Ann.

I am very glad you came to ſpeak to me, Sir, and I underſtand you very well.

ſmiles to him.
Oldcaſtle.

But a little more at large—Tell him whom you chuſe for an huſband.

Mary Ann.

Why, here are two lovers, for whom I have very different ſentiments—I love one of them—

[frowning at Oldcaſtle.]

—and—

[ſmiling at Brumpton.]

—I hate the other. The company of one is always agreeable—

[to Oldcaſtle ſullenly.]

—and—

[ſmiling at Brumpton.]

—I don't care if I never ſee the other's face.—I ſhould like to be married to one of them—

[to Oldcaſtle.]

—and—

[ſmiling to Brumpton.]

—I had as ſoon be gibbetted, as be married to the other.—But my own Mr. Oldcaſtle—

[toys and plays with him, then turning to Brumpton.]

—I love you of all things.

Oldcaſtle.

You have won my heart.

Mary Ann.

But do you forgive I every thing now?—Ah! you don't love me.

ſings 'Go Naughty Man,' and reaches a letter to Brumpton.
Oldcaſtle.

I do—in troth I do—ha! ha! ha!—Mr. Brumpton, you ſee I have not ſuggeſted a word—all the dictates of her own heart—

Mary Ann.
[72]
[ſmiling to Brumpton.]

All from the very bottom of my heart!

Brumpton.

Since I underſtand you, Ma'am, I ſhall remove the hated object from your ſight.

Mary Ann.

The ſooner the better.

then turns and plays with Oldcaſtle.
Brumpton.

Mr. Oldcaſtle, I have the honour, Sir, to wiſh you all happineſs.—And I fly this moment to put your commands in execution, Ma'am—

going.
Mary Ann.

You can't go about it too faſt.

Brumpton.

You may rely upon my honour.

Mary Ann.

And don't let me be unhappy any more.

Brumpton.

You may depend upon me.

Oldcaſtle.

So—ſo—now I'll attend you down.—Po!—no ceremony.—You have made me happy, Mr. Brumpton—you have made Mary Ann happy.—Come, I'll let you out, Mr. Brumpton.

Exit.
Brumpton.
[kiſſing his hand to Mary Ann]

I attend you, Sir.

Exit.
Mary Ann.

By goles, he has taught me a little wit himſelf; and if Mr. Brumpton follows my directions, I ſhall be pure and happy at laſt.

End of the Fourth ACT.

ACT V.

[73]
SCENE Lovibond's Houſe.
Enter Harriet and Bellford.
Harriet.

HUSH!—don't ſpeak ſo loud, you'll give the alarm elſe to my keepers below ſtairs, and all is ruin'd—I don't know what to ſay, Mr. Bellford;—my heart begins to fail me—

Bellford.

But after ſurmounting every difficulty, now in this laſt ſtage of the buſineſs to let your ſpirits ſink, would be ſuch a falling off from the character you have ſupported this day;—a character that ſurpaſſes all the heroines in romance, both for ſpirit and contrivance.

Harriet.

The difficulties I had to encounter rouzed my ſpirits for a while, juſt as fits give us for the time, more than our natural ſtrength;—but now the conflict's over, my reſolution ſtaggers, and I am at full leiſure to feel the weakneſs of my condition—I can't go through it, Mr. Bellford, I can't indeed—

Bellford.

Nay, ſummon up your reſolution—Our mutual vows, the happineſs that waits us, every motive, a thouſand things conſpire, and call for all the conſtancy you are miſtreſs of—

Harriet.

But then to break through all the proprieties of conduct—all the decencies which my ſex requires—

Bellford.

In a caſe like yours, the means are juſt which ſave you from deſtruction—

Harriet.

I tremble for the event—I ſhan't be able to eſcape—

Bellford.

Truſt yourſelf to me, my love—'tis but an eaſy ſtep out of the window down upon the leads, and then through the neighbouring houſe—the people [74] are in my intereſt—come, reſume your courage—you cannot doubt my honour—

Harriet.

But the cenſure of the world—nay, your own opinion of me—

Bellford.

The world will admire your ſpirit, and when 'tis known, that the old gentleman was your dupe, and carried on the plot himſelf, your invention will be applauded every where—

Harriet.

Why, I can almoſt laugh at him even now—

[hears Lovibond coming.]

Deliver me!—what ſhall I do? undone!—detected!—

Bellford.

This is the conſequence of delaying too long—

Harriet.

Run into this room;—make haſte—diſpatch

[ſhuts him in]

and to make ſafe work—

Puts the key in her pocket.
Enter Lovibond.
Lovibond.

Harriet, I am never happy but in your company—the minutes move with leaden feet, when I am out of your preſence—

Harriet.

And yet, you ill-natured man!—you can contrive to be out more than half the day—

Lovibond.

Chide me not;—you'll break my heart if you do—every frown on that face is a death-warrant, and every ſmile is benefit of clergy—come, come, brighten up into happineſs and love.

Harriet.

You know your power over me—you can do what you pleaſe with your own Harriet!—

Lovibond.

Can I?—you are too good.—

Harriet.

Where have you been all this time?

Lovibond.

I have been—but you look pale—what is the matter?

Harriet.

Occaſioned by fretting at your abſence—and that hideous man keeps me in a conſtant alarm—

Lovibond.

Don't waſte a thought on him—he'll trouble you no more—tho', to do him juſtice, I believe his intentions were honourable—poor devil!— [75] ha! ha! I fancy he loves you dearly—Well! but—poor brother Oldcaſtle!—your ſiſter has ſo bamboozled him—

Harriet.

My ſiſter!

Lovibond.

She has admitted a young gentleman to viſit her—

Harriet.

She could not be ſo wicked!—

Lovibond.

The girl has not erred ſo much from an evil diſpoſition, as from ignorance—

Harriet.

A very ſmall ſhare of ſenſe, Mr. Lovibond, will give ſufficient intimations of our duty—

Lovibond.

Very true—now the like of you, would not have done ſuch a thing for the world!—

Harriet.

Not to be empreſs of the univerſe—The young men of this age are ſuch a profligate race.—

Lovibond.

You are fit to inſtruct grey hairs—the young gentleman—one Mr. Brumpton—a wild fiery young ſpark—he was in the very houſe with her, and ſhe hid him in the cloſet—ha! ha!

Harriet.

In the cloſet! well! after that, I will never own her for my ſiſter!—the wicked girl!—I am glad I have not viſited her—

Lovibond.

Ha! ha! ha!—poor man!—he never ſuſpected any thing—had it been my caſe, I ſhould have ſmoked it in a moment—

Harriet.

Without doubt!—there is no impoſing upon you—

Lovibond.

Oh! no—no ſuch thing—ha! ha! I can ſee thro' a millſtone—the eye of an eagle for a plot!—But come—come—it begins to grow late—come, let me hand you to your chamber, and then I'll lock you in ſafe from all harm till morning.

Harriet.

Heavens! what ſhall I do now?

[aſide]

Huſh!—let me ſay a word to you firſt—don't ſpeak loud.—My ſiſter is indeed much worſe than you can conceive—I wiſh you would ſtep and bring Mr. Oldcaſtle hither directly.

Lovibond.

Now! what occaſion can there be—

Harriet.
[76]

She loves that Mr. Brumpton to diſtraction, and has actually made her eſcape, to follow the vile man.

Lovibond.

Made her eſcape!

Harriet.

She is in that room now—I have locked her in—ſuch wicked ſchemes as ſhe has in her head! She has told me all, and intends to marry this Mr. Brumpton: ſhe has found out that ſhe is of age, and ſays ſhe will be made a fool of no longer!—there's a ſpirit for you!—

Lovibond.

A ſpirit indeed!

Harriet.

But I have ſecured her to prevent the diſgrace, to ward off the ruin—and—

Lovibond.

That was conſiderate of you—let me go and talk to the young vixen.

Harriet.

No—no—that will ſpoil all—I have pretended to connive at all this—But the moſt prudent ſtep,—I have learned all my prudence, you know, from you—

Lovibond.

Ay! an apt ſcholar you have been!

Harriet.

You are very good—but there is no time to be loſt—I would have you bring Mr. Oldcaſtle here directly, that he may find her in the very fact.

Lovibond.

Very good!—and then I ſhall be able to do the poor man a ſervice, and make a jeſt of him into the bargain!—Keep her ſafe;—don't let her out—this will ſo torment him!—ha! ha!

Exit.
Harriet.

I am glad my ſiſter has found a lover, and I hope ſhe'll marry him with all my heart.—Is he gone?

[liſtens at the door.]

Ay! I hear him lock the ſtreet-door after him—and now I'll venture to unlock this door.

Enter Bellford.
Bellford.

Thou charming contriver!

Harriet.

Oh!—this new danger has given freſh vigour to my ſpirits.

Belford.
[77]

And now, my angel, we'll make ſure of our happineſs—come, truſt yourſelf to my care—

Harriet.

And yet—

Belford.

Nay,—no more doubts—our paſſage to the next houſe is without difficulty, and then liberty is ours.

Exeunt.
SCENE the Street.
Enter Lovibond.
Lovibond.

I never was better pleaſed in all my life—I burn with impatience to ſee him—ha! ha! I ſhall never be able to walk faſt enough—ha! ha! ha!—

Enter Oldcaſtle.
Lovibond.

Well met! I wanted to ſee you.

Oldcaſtle.

Oh! I am now the happieſt man on earth. My troubles with young Brumpton are all at an end, and Mary Ann is ſafe at home.—

Lovibond.

Ay! as he thinks, poor man! — ha! ha!

aſide.
Oldcaſtle.

You may laugh, but I ſhall like to ſee your plan ſucceed as well—what a dupe you will prove at laſt!—

Lovibond.

What a dupe you are now!—the bird is flown, man; Mary Ann has eloped—

Oldcaſtle.

Ha! ha! ha! you make me laugh.

Lovibond.

How ſecure he is! ha! ha! he little dreams—I tell you ſhe is gone—

Oldcaſtle.

Always abſurd!

going out.
Lovibond.
[following him.]

You are ruined, I tell you.

Oldcaſtle.

Ha! ha!—do you think I don't know better.

Exeunt.
Enter Harriet and Bellford.
Bellford.

Don't alarm yourſelf, my angel—this is my houſe—

knocks at the door.
Harriet.
[78]

Oh! I ſhall certainly faint—

Enter Brumpton.
Brumpton

My dear Bellford—

Harriet.

Heavens! what's the matter?

Brumpton.

Don't be frightened, Ma'am—

Bellford.

No—this is a friend of mine—well! Brumpton, the buſineſs!

Brumpton.

My deareſt Bellford, this is the moſt critical moment of my life—I have bribed the ſervants—carried her off—ſhe is mine—mine for ever—will you give me a room in your houſe for this one night?—

Bellford.

Why this ceremony? you know you may command in my houſe—

Re-enter Oldcaſtle and Lovibond.
Oldcaſtle.

What noiſe is that?—

Lovibond.

That's Brumpton, I know his voice—

Harriet.

I am frightened to death.

Brumpton.

The door opens, walk in, ma'am, walk in—

Harriet goes in.
Belford.

Light the lady up ſtairs!—

Oldcaſtle.

Huſh! Let us hear him—

Brumpton.

I am wild with love, with rapture, and ſucceſs!—I have carried her fairly off, in triumph, my dear boy! She was locked up in a cloſet, but I broke open the door—

Bellford

I give you joy—but my own happineſs calls—bring the lady as ſoon as you will—

Exit.
Brumpton.

A thouſand thanks, my dear Bellford—Victoria! the prize is mine.

Exit.
Lovibond.

Are you convinced now!

Oldcaſtle.

I am thunderſtruck—Robbery! Murder! I'll break open the door—Watchman, call a juſtice of peace—call Sir Theodore Brumpton—he lives juſt by—Mr. Oldcaſtle wants him—his ſon has robbed me—I'll alarm all the world!

[raps at the door.]

Robbery! ſhipwreck! deſtruction! ruin!

Lovibond.
[79]

Ha! ha!—he feels it now, and I am not ſorry for him—ha! ha!

Oldcaſtle.

I am mad, I ſhall go diſtracted;—I ſhall end my days in Bedlam—

[Enter a ſervant.]

I would fain ſpeak a word here in the houſe.

Servant.

Sir, my maſter is ſomewhat buſy, and—

Oldcaſtle.

I am plundered—I muſt go in—oh! villain! villain!

ruſhes in.
Lovibond.

Ha! ha!—now will he ſee which can train up a young girl beſt.

Exit.
SCENE an Apartment in Bellford's Houſe.
Enter Bellford.

What's all this noiſe!—

[liſtens at the door.]

—Ay! I hear his voice—How could my booby let him in? But I have lodged her ſafe, and this ſword ſhall maintain poſſeſſion—

Enter Oldcaſtle and Lovibond.
Oldcaſtle.

Where is ſhe?—Where is the unfortunate!—Reſtore her directly, reſtore her to her two guardians—We come to demand her of you.

Lovibond.

Yes, we demand her, Sir—we know ſhe is here—and therefore—

Bellford.

My houſe is my caſtle, gentlemen, and nobody muſt offer—

Oldcaſtle.

I'll ſearch your houſe—I'll get a general warrant—She is an heireſs—a ward of the high court of Chancery—'tis a contempt; you'll be committed for it;—ſhe is our property, in law and equity—I claim her, I demand her; and I will have her.

Bellford.

This is an unſeaſonable hour, gentlemen; to-morrow I ſhall be ready to anſwer your complaints; in the mean time, I muſt beg you will leave me in quiet poſſeſſion of my own houſe.

Lovibond.
[80]

But we are her guardians, Sir—both her guardians—the girl is under age!—

Bellford.

Mr. Lovibond, you are her guardian; and what then, Sir?—Both of ye ſcandalous betrayers of your truſt!-I know it all—each circumſtance—You would impoſe upon her tender years, that you may infamouſly plunder that property which was confided to your care!—

Lovibond.
[aſide.]

There is a cloud gathering!—We ſhall both be brought to a ſtrict account—I had better make up this matter, that I may enjoy my own Harriet in ſecurity—

Oldcaſtle.

You have run away with an heireſs, and by the law of the land—

Bellford.

I have a right to her;—I know ſhe is of age, Sir, and it is my fixed reſolution to marry her; ſhe has declared in my favour, and nothing ſhall be a bar to my happineſs!

Oldcaſtle.
[to Lovibond.]

She is of age ſure enough; how did he find that out?

aſide.
Lovibond.

Better make the beſt of a bad bargain—

[aſide.]

— But let me underſtand you, Mr. Bellford;—do you intend to marry her yourſelf?

Bellford.

It is my peremptory reſolution.—But all in honour, Sir—marriage articles, for the purpoſe of ſettling her whole fortune upon herſelf, are now drawing in the next room.

Lovibond.

I ſee what courſe I muſt take.—If he marries her, I ſhall live in peace.—

[aſide.]

—Mr. Oldcaſtle, the girl is of full age.—Let me ſay a word in your ear—

[aſide to him.]

—conſent to the marriage, and get a handſome allowance for the trouble and expence of her education—That word makes me laugh—ha! ha! ha!

Oldcaſtle.

I am diſtracted; what ſhall I do?—

[aſide.]

—I thought young Brumpton was to marry her?

Bellford.

No Brumpton on earth ſhall rob me of her!

Oldcaſtle.
[81]

The trouble, and the fondneſs with which we have reared her—

Lovibond.

He will allow for that—

Oldcaſtle.

I have long lov'd her—Can't you reſign her now,—you will be the death of me elſe?

Lovibond.

Think no more of her—ſhe is not worthy of your regard. Mr. Bellford will behave like a gentleman in matters of account, and—

Bellford.

Preſcribe your terms—I am ready to agree the matter this moment—

Oldcaſtle.

A releaſe for the intereſt of rents and profits—a cool five thouſand for extraordinary trouble, and for her muſic-maſter and her dancing-maſter—

Lovibond.

He was her only maſter himſelf—ha! ha!

aſide.
Bellford.

Agreed!—

Lovibond.

Cloſe with him—cloſe with him directly—

Oldcaſtle.

I wiſh you would reſign her to me—

Bellford.

I will not defer my happineſs beyond tomorrow morning!—My lawyer is in the next room; let him draw up a memorandum between us, and your conditions are granted.

Lovibond.

It ſhall be done—we will both ſign—Come, don't heſitate.

to Oldcaſtle.
Oldcaſtle.

I ſhall break my heart!—

Lovibond.

Po!—no heſitating,—come and finiſh the buſineſs!

Oldcaſtle

It is a terrible ſtroke!—

Lovibond.

Never ſtand debating—you have made the beſt of a bad bargain—loſe no time—

forcing him along.
Oldcaſtle.

But, Mr. Bellford—

Lovibond.

We muſt reſign her—we muſt give her up—Come along, man.

forces him out.
Bellford.

I attend you, gentlemen—I agree to your propoſals.

following them.
[82] Enter Brumpton and Mary Ann.
Brumpton.

Walk in, my angel; you are ſecure here.

Bellford.

Ha! Brumpton—I give you joy—I congratulate you too, ma'am—and—

Mary Ann.

I thank you kindly, ſir.

Brumpton.

And now, Bellford, thro' the perils of this day we have both at laſt attained our utmoſt wiſhes. I could be merry about it, but I muſt give my fellow Briſk ſome directions. I have ſuch a ſtory to tell you—ha! ha!—I ſhall be with you in an inſtant.

Exit.
Mary Ann.

La! what a pretty room here is!

Bellford.

Your appearance tells me, ma'am, that my friend Brumpton has found a treaſure.

Mary Ann.

I am ſure, I am fortunate in finding him—for I led ſuch a life; you can't think how diſmal!—

Bellford.

The ſcene will now be changed, and the pleaſures of life will court you on every ſide.

Enter Oldcaſtle.
Oldcaſtle.

Oh! the little compound of treachery and fraud!

aſide, and liſtening.
Mary Ann.

I was kept from morning to night mewed up at home, and he talked ſuch a parcel of bug-bears to frighten a body—

Oldcaſtle.

Oh the traitreſs!

Mary Ann.

And he ſaid if I looked at a ſweet [...] ing young gentleman, that I ſhould be [...], and devoured, and ſwallowed up!

Bellford.

An old blockhead!—

Mary Ann.

Yes, I thought as much—But I am ſure I am obliged to Peter and Bridget for letting me out, and they ſhall come and live with me, ſo they ſhall—Do you know our Peter and Bridget?—

Oldcaſtle.

They ſhall both be hanged.

aſide.
Mary Ann.

And my old guardian wanted to marry me himſelf, but—

[laughs.]

—he talked in ſuch a [83] manner, and ſaid ſuch ſtrange things—But—

[laughs.]

—the joke was, he taught me how to write letters, and I ſhould never have thought of ſuch a thing had he not put me in the head on't—And he is ſo old, and totters about ſo; and he calls me his lambkin; and bids me read the marriage act, and a heap of trumpery.—An hideous, ugly, old ſcare crow!—La! there he is.

ſhe is diſconcerted.
Oldcaſtle.

I have ſigned, Mr. Bellford, and they wait for you.

Bellford.

I ſhall give you no delay, Sir.

Exit.
Oldcaſtle.

Thou ſerpent, whom I have warmed and cheriſhed in my boſom!—you muſt ſting your benefactor at laſt, muſt you?—Did not I promiſe to marry you?

Mary Ann.

Yes, but by goles, I thank you for that tho'—

Oldcaſtle.

And will you deſert me for a ſtranger?

Mary Ann.
[ſhe laughs.]

He's a ſweet man!

Oldcaſtle.

Viper!—this is your ſimplicity, is it?—I, who loved you ſo—

Mary Ann.

Ah!—but his love is more agreeable by half.

Enter Lovibond and Bellford.
Lovibond.

Well! now every thing is ſettled.—So, madam, you are there, are you?—ha! ha! Brother Oldcaſtle, I always told you how this would end—ha! ha! ha!

Oldcaſtle.

If ſhe had minded my inſtructions—

Lovibond.

Ha! ha! Inſtructions!—You brought it all upon yourſelf—but 'tis better as it is—your head would have ached all the reſt of your days—ha! ha! ha!—I am heartily glad of this—ha! ha!—Come, Mr. Bellford, I'll give her away—here, take your wife—

Oldcaſtle.

Wounds! I can't ſtand this—I'll not be a witneſs.

goes out.
Lovibond.
[84]

But you ſhall be a witneſs; you are a party concerned—you muſt come back.

Exit after him.
Bellford.

Since they have agreed the matter, Harriet ſhall make her appearance.

Exit.
Mary Ann alone.

What does all this mean!—Sure it can't be ſiſter Harriet he talks of.

Lovibond.
[without.]

You muſt, you ſhall come back.

Enter Bellford, leading in Harriet.
Bellford.

Don't be frightened—you are the object of my heart, and they will give you away.

Lovibond.
[forcing in Oldcaſtle, without looking behind him.]

You are a party to the agreement—you muſt ſee her given away.

Bellford.

Here's the lady.

[leading her to Lovibond.]
Lovibond.

Ay! ay! give me her hand—

[without ſeeing her.]

—you ſhall ſee the buſineſs done, Mr. Oldcaſtle.—Here, here—wounds! what's all this?—Harriet!

Oldcaſtle.

Huzza!—a reprieve!

Mary Anne.

Ah! ſiſter there—what have you been writing letters too!

[goes up to her.]

I be glad to ſee you—

Lovibond.

What does all this mean?—what brought you hither, Madam?

Harriet.

My love for this gentleman.

She takes Bellford by the hand.
Oldcaſtle.

Ha! ha! ha!—ſhe is his wife all this time—

Harriet.

I was not by any means worthy of you, Sir—and ſo I have transferred my affections where I think they will be placed to advantage!—

Lovibond.

I am ready to ſink into the ground with amazement!—

Oldcaſtle.

Loll, toll, loll!—brother Lovibond!—you brought it all upon yourſelf—ha! ha! ha!— [85] I pity and laugh at you—ha! ha! this is the education you have given her—ha! ha!

Lovibond.

I ſhall die upon the ſpot—

Oldcaſtle.

Ha! ha!—I ſaw what it would all end in—

[follows him about.]

She would have been too young a wife for you, man—ha! ha!—I am heartily glad of it—here, here, I'll give her away—here Mr. Bellford, take your wife—

Bellford.

I accept her at your hand—

Harriet.

And I give you mine, with all my heart!

Oldcaſtle.

Now, who underſtands education?—Come, madam, come you home with me—

taking hold of Mary Ann.
Mary Ann.

Ah! but I can't do that, for I be married as well as you, ſiſter —

[runs over to her.]

he carried me to a parſon, and it was for all the world, like what you uſed to ſay

[to Oldcaſtle]

about love, honour, and obey—

Oldcaſtle.

What do I hear?

Enter Brumpton.
Brumpton.

Oh! ho! ho!—what a day of adventures have I had! but fortune has at laſt crowned me with ſucceſs—My good genius has attended me throughout—my ſweet, my lovely bride!

Oldcaſtle.

Oh! Mr. Brumpton!—what a life you have led me!

Enter Sir Theodore, and Briſk.
Sir Theodore.

Where is the graceleſs, the profligate, the abandoned!—So Sir!

[to Brumpton.]

why am I to be called out of my houſe on account of your midnight practices!

Oldcaſtle.

Oh! Sir Theodore, I am glad you are come—your ſon will be the death of me!—

Sir Theodore.

What does all this mean, Sir!

Brumpton.
[86]

That I am married to this lady, Sir—

Oldcaſtle.

He has robbed me of her;—plundered me;—he will go to the gallows for it—ſhe is an heireſs!

Lovibond.

Well! this is ſome comfort—ha! ha! brother Oldcaſtle, we are both in the ſame predicament.

Sir Theodore.

An heireſs ſay you?—George, give me your hand, ſince you have not thrown yourſelf away—and was it your ward all this time?

Brumpton.

Yes, Sir,—ha! ha! ha!—this is the lady whom he called a milliner's prentice—ha! ha!

Sir Theodore.

Ha! ha!—and that was his fetch to deceive me, was it?—ha! ha!

Lovibond.

Ha! ha!—you have managed it charmingly—ha! ha!

Oldcaſtle.

You'll drive me mad all of you—

Brumpton. Sir Theodore. Lovibond.

Ha! ha! ha!

all laugh heartily.
Mary Ann.

This is pure comical;—

Oldcaſtle.

Oh! I ſhall never ſurvive this!

Sir Theodore.

Nay, no uneaſineſs, Mr. Oldcaſtle.

Briſk.

I fancy we need not think any more of Hampſhire now. Sir Theodore!—

Sir Theodore.

What are you there, Briſk?—You have been a ſad rogue.

Briſk.

I have been working for the good of your family, Sir!—

Sir Theodore.

So you have; I forgive you all—George, I give you joy with all my heart.

Brumpton.

You ſee, Sir, I have married a fortune for the good of my children; and the lady's beauty I fancy won't offend you.

Sir Theodore.

No, I embrace her as my daughter.

Mary Anne.

Ah! you are very good, Sir—

Sir Theodore.
[87]

Come, Mr. Oldcaſtle, never be dejected—

Oldcaſtle.

Oh! I have loſt a treaſure—

Brumpton.

Yet you muſt excuſe me, Sir, when you recollect the letter the lady flung me out of the window!—

Lovibond.

Flung him a letter!—ha! ha!

Brumpton.

And when you reflect, that you yourſelf brought me into her preſence to receive this letter, in which ſhe prays me to be her deliverer!

gives him the letter.
Lovibond.

Ha! ha! the contriver of his own misfortunes!—Gave her the opportunity himſelf—ha! ha!

Bellford.

And when you conſider, Mr. Lovibond, that you brought me Harriet's meſſages, and delivered me this letter with your own hand!

Lovibond.

How is this!—

reading it to himſelf.
Harriet.

A declaration of my heart—I had nobody to carry it but you!—

Oldcaſtle.

The contriver of his own ruin! delivered her letter himſelf! ha! ha! how well he knows the world!—

Brumpton.

Bellford, give me your hand—and ſo we have been ſtruggling hard for two ſiſters all this time!—

Bellford.

We have, and from henceforth ſhall live both friends and brothers!

Oldcaſtle.

Oh! Mary Ann!—you have deceived me, but I ſhall be glad to ſee you happy.

Mary Ann.

And I am ſure, I ſhall be always glad to ſee you, if you live theſe three years to come—Here's your marriage act for you! Siſter Harriet, la! I longed like any thing to ſee you—and I am glad we are both happy at laſt—

Brumpton.

A right uſe made of this event, will be of general ſervice to us all—To theſe gentlemen it may prove a School for Guardians, where they will [88] learn not to bring upon themſelves the reproach of a diſhoneſt, an amorous, and contemptible old age—We, Bellford, and theſe ladies, who are now embarked on a voyage for life,—we cannot fail of happineſs—

To youth ſure rapture marriage ever brings,
When from eſteem the happy union ſprings.
FINIS.
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Citation Suggestion for this Object
TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 3561 The school for guardians A comedy As it is performing at the Theatre Royal in Covent Garden. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5D59-9