[]

THE COQUETTE; OR, THE MISTAKES of the HEART.

[Price One Shilling and Six-pence.]

[]

THE COQUETTE; OR, THE MISTAKES of the HEART: A COMEDY. As performed at the THEATRES-ROYAL IN YORK and HULL.

BATH: PRINTED BY R. CRUTTWELL.

MDCCLXXVII.

[]
Dramatis Perſonae.
  • Sedley, Mr. Raymur.
  • Captain Helm, Mr. Eyles.
  • Woodford, Mr Hudſon.
  • Sir Whifling Triflle, Mr. Robertſon.
  • Flamwell, Mr. Death.
  • Spangle, Mr. Payne.
  • Fineſſe, Mr. Buck.
  • Swab, Mr. Suett.
  • Ty'em,
  • Miſs Bloomer, Mrs. Hudſon.
  • Lady Younglove, Mrs. Collins.
  • Flora, Mrs. Hitchcock.
  • Miſs Belgrove, Miſs Waudby.
  • Frippery, Mrs. Eyles.
  • Fontange, Mrs. Payne.
  • Conſtable, Servants, &c.

SCENE, LONDON.

TIME, that of Repreſentation.

TO Mrs. NEWTON, OF KING's-BROMLEY, STAFFORDSHIRE.

[]
MADAM,

WITH the greateſt reſpect, I beg leave to lay the following ſcenes at your feet—My ſole aim in writing them, was to blend Inſtruction with Amuſement.

TRULY ſenſible that Example operates much more powerfully than Precept, forgive my vanity in pointing out ſo perfect a character as your's for imitation.

WHERE Youth, Beauty, and Virtue unite to—Your delicacy has ſnatched the pen from my unwilling hand—I muſt obey—Suffer me only to add, that I am, MADAM,

With the greateſt truth, Your moſt obedient Very humble ſervant, The AUTHOR.
[]

THE moment that a Reader takes up a Book with a Deſign to peruſe it, he naturally wiſhes for all the Information poſſible, relative to the Writer and Writing of it—

WILLING, in every reaſonable Degree, to ſatisfy the Curioſity of my good Friends and Purchaſers, I ſhall candidly anſwer their following Queſtions:

Pray, who is the Author of this Comedy?

A man in Obſcurity, unnoticed, and content to remain ſo.

Has it ever been performed in London?

No.

Was it ever offered to the Managers of either Theatre there?

No.

For what reaſon?

Becauſe the Author was truly ſenſible that it had not Merit ſufficient to recommend it to their Notice.

What are his Motives for publiſhing it now?

Neceſſity, not Inclination.

Is it worth purchaſing?

An odd Queſtion—He is afraid not—But, good bye, Read on and judge for yourſelf.

SUBSCRIBERS.

[]
A
  • LUKE Annington, Eſq Fiby
  • Mr. Auſtin, comedian, 12 copies
  • Mr. Aud [...]iev
  • Mr. Joſeph Atkinſon
  • Anonymous, 4 copies
B
  • Capt. Barker, York
  • Mr. Buck, Theatre-Royal, ditto
  • Mr. Bagley, ditto
  • J. Bell, Eſq Hull, 2 copies
  • Mr. Bowers, ditto
  • Mr. Browne, books. ditto. 6 cop.
  • Mr. Batchellor, ditto
  • Mr. Bentley, ditto
  • Edward Barker, Eſq Leeds
  • Mr. Lewis Baſtide, ditto
  • Mr. Barſtow, jun. ditto
  • Mr. Binns, bookſeller, ditto, 4 co.
  • Dr. Bullough, ditto, 3 copies
  • Mrs. Bradſhaw, Exeter
  • Mr. Butler, comedian
  • Mr. William Bell, Horneaſtle
  • Mr. Mathew Brigs, ditto
  • Mr. Thomas Bavington, ditto
  • Mr. Charles Bonner, ditto
  • Miſs Baker, Bath
  • Mr. Bliſſet, Theatre-Royal, ditto
  • Mr. Brett, ditto
  • Mrs. Brett, ditto
  • Mr. Brooks, ditto
  • Mr. Brunſdon, ditto
  • Mr. Brooks, muſician, ditto
  • Mr. James Bi—r, Buſtol, 2 cop.
  • Mrs. Brooks, Theatre-R. Norwich.
C
  • Maior Cole, Leads
  • Mr. Crowthea, ditto
  • Mr. William Cookſon, ditto
  • Mr. Catareo, ditto
  • Mr. R. Corfitt, York
  • Mrs. Collins, Theatre-Royal, ditto
  • Mrs. C [...]p, ditto
  • Mr. Colby, ditto
  • Mr. Cornchys, Theatre-Royal, Norwich
  • Mr. Chalmers, comedian, Exeter
  • Mr. Creſſwick, ditto
  • Mr. Clare, comedian
  • Mr. Cawdell, ditto
  • Miſs [...], Hull
  • Mr. N. Cartwright, Horncaſtle
  • Mr. Robert Cole, ditto
  • John Charnock, Eſq Bath
  • Mrs. Charnock, ditto
  • Mrs. Creſpigny, ditto
  • Mr. R. Cruttwell, printer, ditto, 6 copies
D
  • Jeremiah Dixon, Eſq Leeds
  • Mr. De Comey, ditto
  • Mrs. Denniſon, ditto
  • Maſter Denniſon, ditto
  • Mr. Wm. Davy, Horncaſtle
  • Mr. Richard Dung, ditto
  • Mr. Dunning, Hull
  • Mr. Death, London
  • Mr. T. Death, comedian
  • Mrs. Death
  • Mrs. Death
  • [] Mr. Charles Davis, Bath
  • Mr. Dimond, Theatre-Royal, Bath
  • Mr. Didier, ditto
  • Mrs. Didier, ditto
  • Mr. Dove, Norwich
E
  • Mr. Eyles, Theatre-Royal, York
  • Mrs. Eyles, ditto
  • Mr. Earby, ditto
  • Mr. Ellard, Exeter
  • Mr. Edwin, Theatre Royal, Bath
  • Mr. Egan, ditto
F
  • James Fenton, Eſq Leads
  • Mrs M. Fenton, ditto
  • Mr. R. Fenton, ditto
  • Benj. Fanand, Eſq Bingley
  • Mr. Flower, York
  • Mr. Flower, ditto
  • Mrs. Fredlham, Theatre-R. ditto
  • Mr. Foote, Theatre, Exeter
  • Mr. George Fe [...]aby, Hull
  • Mr. Robert Fiſher, Horncaſtle
  • Mr. John Fiſher, ditto
G
  • MR. Wm. Gieſſwell, Horncaſtle
  • Mr. John Gunnifs, ditto
  • Mr. Richard Gunnifs, ditto
  • Mr. Edward Gunnifs, ditto
  • Mr. Goforth, Hull
  • Mr. Garvey, Bath
  • Mr. Geameſter, ditto
  • Mr. Guffith, Theatre-R. Norwich
H
  • Dr. Hunter, F. R. S. York, 2 cop.
  • Mr. Hudſon, ditto
  • Mr. Haxby, jun. ditto
  • Mr. Hudſon, Theatre-Royal, ditto
  • —Hake, Eſq Liſbon
  • Mrs. Hake, ditto
  • John Halſey, Eſq Doncaſter
  • John Hutchinſon, Eſq Horncaſtle
  • Richard Heald, Eſq ditto
  • Mr. Joſeph Hamerton, ditto
  • Mr. Hudſon, comedian
  • Mr. Huilding, Leeds
  • Mr. Hairiſon, ditto
  • Mr. Hick, ditto
  • Mr. Hudſon, Hull
  • Mr. Joſeph Hankes, Bath
  • Mr. Thomas Horton, ditto
  • Mrs. Hutchinſon, ditto
  • Mr. Henderſon, Theatre-R. ditto
  • Mr. Hinghton, ditto
  • Mr. Hopley, ditto
  • Mr. Herbert, comedian
  • Mr. Holland, Theatre-R. Norwich
I
  • Sir James Ibhetion, Denton
  • Henry Ibbetſon, Eſq Leeds
  • Mr. Jones, ditto
  • Mr. Inchbald, comedian
  • Mr. Jones, Hull
  • Mrs. Jones, Bath
  • Mrs. Johnſon, ditto
  • Mr. Johnſon, ditto
K
  • Dr. Kenen, Leeds
  • Dr. King, Bath
  • Mr. Keaſberry, jun. ditto
  • Capt. King, Hull
  • Mr. Richard Keys, ditto
  • Mr. George Kitſon, York
  • Mr. King, Theatre-Royal, Edinburgh
  • Mrs. King, ditto
L
  • Philip Lampture, Eſq Bath, 14 co.
  • Mrs. Lucas, ditto
  • Mr. Lloyd, ditto
  • Mr. Loder, ditto
  • J. O. Luke, Eſq Norwich, 6 cop.
  • Richard Lee, Eſq Leeds
  • Mrs. Lee ditto
  • Mr. Lloyd, ditto
  • Mr. Luntley, York
  • Mr. Leng, Theatre-Royal, ditto
  • Mr. L [...], [...]gan [...]t, Hull
  • Miſs Le Gay, ditto
M
  • John Meſter, Eſq Leeds
  • Mr. Man, ditto
  • [] Mrs. Mann, Leeds
  • Gam. Milner, Eſq Burton Abbey
  • Chriſtopher Morrit, Eſq York
  • Mr. Manning, Wakefield
  • Dr. Melling, Hull
  • Mrs. Melling, ditto
  • Miſs Melling, ditto
  • Miſs Maſon, ditto
  • Mrs. Marley, ditto
  • Mrs. Arthur Matſters, ditto
  • Mr. Moore, ditto
  • Miſs Merrick, Bath
  • Mr. Marrett, ditto
  • Mr. Moor, ditto
  • Mr. Markordt, ditto
  • Miſs Manſell, Theatre-R. ditto
N
  • —Newton, Eſq King's-Bromley, 6 copies
  • Mrs. Newton, 6 copies
  • Jer. Nor [...], Eſq Norwich, 6 cop.
O
  • Sir John O'Carrol, Bart. York
  • Lady O'Carrol, ditto
  • Mr. Oram, Theatre-Royal, ditto
  • Mr. Owenſon, Theatre-R. Dublin
  • Michael Ornuby, Eſq Bath
  • Mr. Samuel Oats, jun. Leeds
  • Mr. Oats, Wakefield
  • Mr. Owen, comedian
  • Mr. Edward Overton, Horncaſtle
P
  • Wm. Pennel, Eſq Horncaſtle
  • Miſs Fireſtley, York
  • Mr. Porter, ditto
  • Mr. Payne, Theatre-Royal, Bath
  • Mr. T. Powell, Theatre-Royal, Man [...]heſter, 2 copies
  • Mr. Palmer, ditto, Exeter
  • Miſs Prole, Briſtol
  • —Patry, Eſq
Q
  • Mr. Quarman, Enſtol
R
  • W. Radcliffe, Eſq Milne Birdge
  • Miſs Reed, Leeds
  • Miſs Anne Robinſon, York
  • Mr. Robertſon, Theatre-R. ditto
  • Mr. Raymur, ditto
  • Mr. Shaftoc Robertſon, comedian, 2 copies
  • Mr. Richards, ditto, 2 copies
  • Mr. Robinſon, Hull
  • Mr. Roach, Bath
  • Mr. Rufiel, ditto
  • Mr. Rowbottom, Theatre-R. ditto
  • Mrs. Robinſon, ditto
  • Mr. J. C. Redford, Bath
  • Mr. Wm. Richardſon, Ho [...]caſtle
S
  • Richard Start, Eſq Liſbon
  • Mr. Statt, ditto
  • G. C. Swan, Eſq York
  • Mr. Sotheren, bookſeller, ditto, 3 copies
  • Mr. Suct, Theatre-Royal, ditto
  • William Scott, Eſq Leeds
  • Mr. William Smithſon, ditto
  • Miſs Smithſon, ditto
  • Mr. Simpſon, ditto
  • George Swinny, Eſq Pontefract
  • Tho. Stephernon, Eſq Wakefield
  • Miſs Sherry, Drany-Lane Theatre
  • Mr. Shield, muſician
  • Mr. Shadforth, Newcaſtle
  • John S [...]p [...]on, Eſq Horncaſtle
  • Mr. John Smith, ditto
  • Wither shield, Eſq Hull
  • Mr. Sothe [...]an, ditto
  • Dr. Sch [...]mberg, Bath, 2 copies
  • —Seymour, Eſq ditto
  • Miſs Scrace, ditto
  • Mr. Scrace, ditto
  • Mrs. Shertirſe, Theatre-R. ditto
  • Miſs Summers, ditto
  • Mr. Summers, ditto
  • Mr. Stevens, Bath
  • Mr. John Shepherd, ditto
  • Mr. Sherleck, ditto
  • Mr. Sherborne, London
  • Mr. Stuart, comedian
T
  • John Taylor, Eſq Bath, 5 copies
  • [] Miſs Tyler, Bath
  • Capt. Thickneſſe, ditto
  • Mr. Townſend, ditto
  • Mr. Teſſyman, bookſeller, York, 2 copies
  • Mr. Todd, ditto, ditto, 3 copies
  • Mr. Thackray, ditto
  • Mr. Taylor, ditto
  • Mr. Tayleure, comedian
  • Mr. Samuel Trevor, Horncaſtle
V
  • Mr. Venables, Exeter
W
  • Tate Wilkinſon, Eſq Theatre-R. York, 14 copies
  • Mr. Charles Wood, ditto
  • Mr. George Wallis, ditto, 2 cop.
  • Mr. Wilton, bookſeller, ditto, 4 copies
  • [...] Watſon, ditto
  • [...] Hull, 2 cop.
  • [...], ditto
  • [...], ditto
  • Mr. Wilſon, ditto
  • Miſs Waudby, ditto
  • Mr. Weſt, Sadler's-Wells
  • Miſs Weſt, ditto
  • Mr. Weſton, comedian
  • Mr. Webb, ditto, 2 copies
  • Mr. Woolfe, ditto, Exeter
  • Mr. G. Wright, printer, Leeds
  • Miſs Waugh, ditto
  • Mr. Woods, ditto
  • Mr. Walker, London
  • Mr. Wilſon, Whitby
  • Mr. Womerſley, Brigg
  • Wm. Wayet, Eſq Horncaſtle
  • Mr. Richard Webb, ditto
  • Mr. J. Wightman, ditto
  • Mr. Richard Watſon, ditto, 2 cop.
  • Mr. Whitaker, bookſeller, Beverley, 2 copies
  • —Wickham, Eſq Bath
  • Mrs. Welſh, ditto
  • Miſs Wheeler, Theatre-R ditto
  • Mr. Whitehead, ditto
  • Mr. W [...]ighten, Drury-lane Theatre, 2 copies

The following Names came too late to be inſerted in their proper place.

  • Mr. Collins, Theatre, Wincheſter
  • Mrs. Raworth, ditto
  • Mrs. Harriſon, ditto
  • Mrs. Gaudry, ditto
  • Mr. Davis, ditto
  • Mr. Stictton, ditto
  • Mr. Waylet, ditto
  • Mr. Connor, ditto
  • Mr. Sadler, ditto &c. &c.

THE COQUETTE; OR, THE MISTAKES of the HEART.

[]

ACT I.

SCENE, the PARK.
Enter SEDLEY and WOODFORD,
Woodf.

SO, Sedley, you really have been three weeks without ſeeing Miſs Bloomer?

Sedl.

True, I aſſure you, Woodford, and intend, if my reſolution holds, never to ſee her again.

Woodf.

But I underſtood every thing was ſettled between you both, and that nothing remain'd but to name the happy day.

Sedl.

Prithee, Woodford, no more.—It adds to my uneaſineſs to hear her mention'd.

Woodf.

Why ſo?

Sedl.

Becauſe I find, this too ſuſceptible heart of mine cannot ſo readily eraſe the impreſſions her youth, beauty, and innocence have made upon it.

Woodf.

Indeed! But what reaſon can you have for wiſhing it?

Sedl.

The greateſt in the world, Woodford.

Woodf.

I cannot think ſo,—explain, or I ſhall certainly imagine you whimſical and capricious.

Sedl.

When I firſt paid my addreſſes to Miſs Bloomer, ſuch were the beauties of her mind as well [2]as perſon, that I fancied I had found one, all perfect as the firſt, before ſhe fell.

Woodf.

Then were you in an Adamitical paradiſe.

Sedl.

A fool's one, rather,—ſhe received me with ſuch a flattering diſtinction that I thought myſelf the happieſt of mortals, when unluckily, her guardian's dying put her into the immediate poſſeſſion of a large fortune.

Woodf.

Now I ſhould have thought that the luckieſt circumſtance that cou'd have happen'd.

Sedl.

Quite the contrary,—thus freed from reſtraint, at the age of eighteen, ſhe emerged into all the faſhionable follies of the great world, without a real friend to adviſe, or direct her.

Woodf.

Why did not you undertake that office?

Sedl.

I did, but ſoon found it was an ungrateful one—ſo fine a girl, independent of intereſted motives, cou'd not fail of attracting a crowd of admirers; and—

Woodf.

You, naturally grew jealous.

Sedl.

Jealous! My heart was torn in pieces.—'Twas then I diſcover'd a levity of temper, a thoughtleſſneſs, a love of pleaſure, that deſtroy'd my hopes.

Woodf.

Pſha! trifles.—Foibles like theſe are as ſpecks upon the ſun.

Sedl.

Ay, but in time they threaten a total eclipſe.—No character, however contemptible, but was encouraged as a lover.—No ſcene of gaiety, however cenſurable, but was purſued with avidity.—A thouſand inſtances did I patiently bear with, in hopes of amendment.—Oft in the gentleſt terms, did I convey advice, and repreſent the hazards ſhe ran; as oft was I forbad her preſence.

Woodf.

Ha! ha! ha! upon my word, you took an excellent method of rendering yourſelf agreeable to a girl of her age and ſpirit.

Sedl.

But when I intended that girl as a partner for life, cou'd you blame my cautious conduct? No, [3]Woodford; though never man was more ſenſible of beauty's charms than I, yet unleſs thoſe charms are adorned with virtue, they make not half the impreſſion.

Woodf.

That's a little romantic; but pray go on.

Sedl.

Many times did I reſcue her from the moſt imminent dangers which her indiſcretions plunged her into, yet ſtill ſhe perſevered.—At length,—

Woodf.

Hold, who comes here?

Sedl.

Oh, 'tis Monſieur Fineſſe,—one of my rivals,—a fellow, whoſe impudence can only be equall'd by his ignorance.

Enter FINESSE.
Fin.

Ah, gentlement!—Votre tres humble ſerviteur!—I be moſt glad to ſee you both,—Monſieur Sedley, I beg a to ſpeak von word or two wid you.

Sedl.

Any thing particular, Fineſſe?

Fin.

Oh, oui, ver particular—for your own ear.

Sedl.

You may ſpeak out before Woodford, I have juſt been acquainting him with the whole affair.

Fin.

Qu' avez vous fair?—Ma foy, dat be wrong done.—You ſhou'd ſay noting to hurt de fine Lady's reputation.

Sedl.

He is my particular friend, and I can anſwer for his diſcretion.

Fin.

Parbleu! particular friend ſometime do de moſht miſchief.

Woodf.

That will not be the caſe with me, I promiſe you.

Sedl.

Come, what news of Miſs Bloomer?

Fin.

Ah, pauvre Lady! ſhe had de grand eſcape yeſterday.

Sedl.

Eſcape? how?

Fin.

Why, ſhe be taking de innocent diverſion at Vauxhall, wid de bon companie, as ſhe ſuppoſe, and engage in de partie wid tree gentlemen, and deux ladie, to be entertain in a boat on de Thames.

Sedl.

In a boat on the Thames?—Well!—Go on.

Fin.
[4]

Dey be all ſtranger to her, but vat of dat? She not tink any harm.—So dey row, row along, have de muſique, ſing de petite chanſon, and be all ſo merry and gay, till dey land at de Couſin, as dey call her, but begar ſhe be—Vat you call Fille de joie?

Sedl.

Woman of the town.

Fin.

Oui,—ſhe be woman of de town,—den Miſs Bloomer find her miſtake, and vant to return home again.—Dey ſay, no, no, and grow hardis,—at laſt, when ſhe be almoſt excedée, etrois gentlemen by accident hear her cries, and tout à fait, reſcue her.

Sedl.

Wou'd I had been there!—Villains!

Fin.

Oh, oui!—Villains indeed.

Sedl.

You ſee, Woodford, there's another inſtance of her conduct.—Do you think it poſſible for me to be happy with ſuch a woman?

Woodf.

I tell you, man, you are too delicate.—Tho' appearances are againſt her, yet, I dare affirm, that theſe are all miſtakes of the heart, which in time her better judgment will rectify.

Fin.

True, dey be all in de heart,—all vivacité, noting elſe.—I muſt find ſome oder opportunity, when I ſhall have him to himſelf.

(aſide)

Well, Monſieur Sedley, I vill bid you de good morn,—I am going to viſit de Lady, I ſhall hear ſometing more dere, and den I vill call on you at home, in private.—Gentlemen, ſans compliment, I have de honneur to be your very humble ſervant.

[Exit.
Woodf.

Hearky', Sedley, do you build anything upon this fellow's intelligence?—A wretch! that's an outcaſt, and diſgrace to his nation.

Sedl.

Yet this very outcaſt, as he really is, does ſhe treat in the moſt encouraging manner; and, without the leaſt enquiry into his fortune or character, admit amongſt the number of her admirers.—But let us change the ſubject.—So then it ſeems your Uncle has civilly diſmiſs'd you his houſe?

Woodf.
[5]

Not ſo civilly, I aſſure you.

Sedl.

Don't you think you deſerved it? Captain Helm, you know, has ſpent the greater part of his life in ploughing the tempeſtuous ocean, and tho' poſſeſt of an excellent heart, has not the leaſt idea of the refined ſentiments inſpired by a liberal education.—You were certain that your whole dependance was upon him, yet refus'd flattering the harmleſs foibles which peculiarly mark his character.

Woodf.

You miſtake me, Sedley, I often did, till this laſt affair.—But, when he commenc'd my rival, my happineſs was too much concern'd to trifle any longer.

Sedl.

Well, and has he declar'd his paſſion?

Woodf.

No, but as a preparatory ſtep, he has given Lady Younglove (who is juſt return'd to town with her daughter) to underſtand, that for the future, ſhe muſt not encourage my pretenſions, as I have nothing to expect from him.

Sedl.

So! your hopes are all over in that quarter?

Woodf.

Entirely! I called yeſterday, to welcome my dear girl, my beauteous Flora, to London, and was refuſed admittance.

Sedl.

Indeed!

Woodf.

True, and I am now reduced to ſuch diſtreſs, that, unleſs you can aſſiſt me with your advice, and—

Sedl.

Here's my hand,—Depend upon my utmoſt, I feel too much myſelf, tho' from a different cauſe, not to compaſſionate you.

Woodf.

I expected no leſs from your generous friendſhip, but how ſhall we act?—What can I do?

Sedl.

Upon my word, I don't know.—I own yours is a critical caſe.—But, we muſt not deſpair,—I believe as matters ſtand, we had beſt work by ſtratagem. Luckily, I ſtand high in the eſtimation of your Uncle, as well as Lady Younglove.

Woodf.

You'll find him inexorable, and her—

Sedl.
[6]

Not proof againſt flattery,—all mankind have their weak ſide, Woodford, and much may be done by taking a proper advantage of their follies.

Woodf.

I wiſh you may not be miſtaken in the preſent caſe.

Sedl.

Never fear.—Let me ſee,

(Panſes)

No, that won't do.—Stay, I believe I have it.—Suppoſe, I attack Lady Younglove myſelf, and perſuade her, that I am dying for love of her.

Woodf.

No, no, that's impoſſible,—'twould be too ridiculous.

Sedl.

Ha! ha! ha! I'll lay my life there's nothing eaſier.—Attack Widows by ſtorm, and they can't reſiſt you.—Beſides, her time grows ſhort, and as ſhe was in ſuch a violent hurry to get a ſecond huſband, there's all the reaſon in the world to imagine her ſtill more impatient for a third.

Woodf.

But what end do you propoſe by this ſcheme?

Sedl.

To ſerve you, but in what manner I have not yet determined.—Come, let's home to my houſe and conſider farther.—Nay, nay, no excuſes.—I ſee you are unfit to be left to yourſelf.—And the heart which does not feel the diſtreſs of a friend, is not worthy of exiſtence.

[Exeunt.
SCENE Miſs BLOOMER'S.
Enter FONTANGE and FINESSE.
Font.

Ha! ha!—And ſo, Monſieur Sedley believe all de Menſonge, all de ſtory you tell him of my Lady.

Fin.

Oui, he tink it all verité.

Font.

Bon!—And I ſo ſpeak in your praiſe, dat ſhe love you more dan all her oder admirers.

Fin.

Brave, ma petite mignonne!—And, ſhe be aſſurée, dat I be von man of grand qualite?

Font.

Sans doubt!—ſhe no ſuſpect any ting—But, you remember—If I help you to marry de Lady, I am to have de five hundred pound.

Fin.
[7]

Oh!—Faites fond ſur moi—Depend upon me.

Font.

Vera well—Je ſuis content!—I am ſatisfied,—She be now alone, ſtay you dere, and I vil ſay you are waiting for her.

Exit.
Fin.

Allons, Mademoiſelle.—Begar! I vil put de von little ſheat upon you too, for all dat.—Love own country vera well, but love own ſelf muſh better.

Enter SPANGLE.
Span.

Ha! my dear Monſieur Fineſſe—I am extravagantly glad to ſee you.—I wiſh he was at the Devil with all my heart.

(aſide)
Fin.

You make me quite happy.—If your neck was broke.

(aſide)
Span.

What, I find you ſtill dance attendance at Miſs Bloomer's levee.

Fin.

Il eſt vrai, Monſieur Ogle—It is true,—When a young Lady like Miſs Bloomer diſtinguiſh de gentilhomme, de gentilhomme do all in his power to return de compliment.

Span.

You are right, Monſieur,—Juſt my caſe to a hair.—If a fooliſh girl takes it into her head, to fall deſperately in love with me,—tho' upon my ſoul, I can't ſee for what—Can I be ſo barbarous as to ſlight her?—Oh, no, 'tis not in my nature to be ſo inhuman.

[Miſs Bloomer ſings without.]

Hark!—Here ſhe comes, and as lively as ever.

Enter Miſs BLOOMER ſinging.
Miſs Bloom.

Gentlemen, your moſt obedient,—Hey day! Only you two!—Why I am quite deſerted this morning.—Oh, Mr. Spangle! what not drowned yet?—Pſha! you are not half the deſpairing lover you ought to be.

Fin.

Oh, fie for ſhame, Monſieur Spangle, not drown yourſelf to pleaſe de Lady.

Miſs Bloom.

Ha! ha! ha!—I dare ſay, Monſieur Fineſſe, you'd readily oblige me with ſuch a proof of your gallantry, and reſpect.

Fin.
[8]

Oh, madam, I beg to be excuſe—De hang, and de drown'd be ſo barbare, ſo truly Englis, dat it ſhock a me quite—No, rader let me live to adore you, ma belle ange.

Span.

Then is there no poſſibility of inſpiring that obdurate boſom of yours?

Miſs Bloom.

Oh! I am in love!

Span.

Indeed!

Miſs Bloom.

Yes, violently, to diſtraction.

Span.

And may I aſk, who is the happy object of your paſſion?

Miſs Bloom.

The monkey you gave me—He is ſo much the image of yourſelf, that I have doted on him this week paſt.

Fin.

Ha! ha! ha! De monkey—Ha! ha! ha! le drole, ſerviteur, Monſieur Monkey.

Miſs Bloom.

I aſſure you I intend to dreſs the dear creature up in a faſhionable ſuit, have him frizz'd, powder'd, and painted alamode, and have not the leaſt doubt but he'll acquit himſelf as well as moſt of the fine gentlemen about town.

Span.

You know the power you have over me, and love to tyrannize.

Miſs Bloom.

Poor gentleman!—how pathetically that was ſpoken! Pray go on.

Span.

I aſſure you, madam, little as you may think of—

Miſs Bloom.

That pretty, delicate, enamell'd face of yours; yet, it has made many a Lady's heart go pit-a-pat.

Fin.

Admirable!—Ha! ha! ha!—Ah! pauvre diable, ha! ha!

Miſs Bloom.

As for Monſieur Fineſſe here, there is not the leaſt fear of the weather's injuring his complexion.

Fin.

No, madam, mine be de true bronze.

Miſs Bloom.

Well, gentlemen, I ſuppoſe you are both come upon the old ſubject—To ſhew how impartial [9]partial I am, both ſhall have fair play, and each declare his paſſion in turn. You, Mr. Spangle, being my humble ſervant the longeſt, ſhall begin firſt.—Come, make haſte, you have no time to loſe—I expect twenty more, every moment, on the ſame errand.

Span.

Hearky', you ſoft bewitching little gypſy.

Miſs Bloom.

Bravo! go on.

Span.

Do you think I am always to be treated in this unmerciful manner?

Miſs Bloom.
Or thus—
With mercy treat your humble ſlave,
And as your you're beautiful be brave.
Span.

Curſe catch me! if I am not reveng'd on you for this cruelty.

Miſs Bloom.

What, you'll break my chain?—Do, if you can—If my glaſs is to be believ'd, that's out of your power.—Well, ſince I find you have nothing more to ſay, now, to you—"Tho' laſt not leaſt in my eſteem."

Fin.

Den, madam, ſans compliment, ou flatterie, you be de ſweeteſt and moſt lovely creature I ever ſaw—And if I be ſo happy as to—

Miſs Bloom.

Have it in your power to make me unhappy—

Fin.

O, permettez moi, madam, you not hear me out.

Enter SERVANT.
Serv.

Mrs. Faſhion, your Ladyſhip's milliner, to wait on you.

Miſs Bloom.

Shew her up.—I am very ſorry, gentlemen, to be deprived of the pleaſure of your company, but buſineſs you know—

Span.

O, dear ma'am, no excuſe—

Miſs Bloom.

I ſhall be glad to ſee you again, this afternoon.

Fin.

Je m'en vais, madam, I ſhall be here when you no tink.

(aſide)
Miſs Bloom.
[10]

Hold, come back—I've a thought which may be of infinite ſervice to you and me.

Fin.

Pray, madam,—Que dites vous? Vat you ſay?

Miſs Bloom.

Why, as you are both rivals, and men of ſuch undoubted courage, what think you of a rencontre to-morrow morning?

Span.

O, dear ma'am, we are infinitely oblig'd to you.

Fin.

Oui, too much oblige, indeed, madam.

Miſs Bloom.

I wou'd not propoſe this to every hotheaded ſpark, but I have ſuch a reliance upon your prudence and diſcretion, that I am not the leaſt apprehenſive of ill conſequences.

Span.

You pay us a great compliment, really, madam.

Miſs Bloom.

No more than you deſerve,—By this, you'll acquire a reputation in the world, and add to my fame.—Go, go, and let me hear that you have done ſomething to be talk'd of before I ſee you again.

Fin.

Madam, I ſhall have de glory of obeying your commands.—Monſieur Spangle, ſince noting elſe will ſatisfy de lady, I beg you to witdraw, and let me have de honneur to cut your troat a la Françoiſe.

Span.

O, I'll withdraw with all my heart.—But, the Devil fetch me, if I have my throat cut, a la Françoiſe, or a la Anglois.

[Exeunt.
Miſs Bloom.

Ha! ha! ha! thus do I ſport with fools.

Enter Mrs. FASHION.
Miſs Bloom.

Well, Mrs. Faſhion, ſure ſomething very particular brings you here.

Mrs. Faſh.

Very particular indeed, your Ladyſhip,—And yet, it is not particular to you neither, for, heaven bleſs you! it happens every day.

Miſs Bloom.

Well, what is it?

Mrs. Faſh.
[11]

Ah, that ſweet ſace!—No wonder it turns every body's brain.

Miſs Bloom.

What is all this about?

Mrs. Faſh.

I aſſure you, I have ſo much work in hand, that I could hardly ſpare the time to—

Miſs Bloom.

I wiſh you would waſte a little leſs of it now.

Mrs. Faſh.

Some of my beſt cuſtomers too.—I ſhall be oblig'd to ſit up all night.—But poor gentleman, he is in ſuch a bitter taking—

Miſs Bloom.

What gentleman?

Mrs. Faſh.

Ah! that ſweet ſhape and air.—Well, if it be your lot to come together, you'll make a lovely couple.

Miſs Bloom.

Was ever any thing ſo provoking!—I proteſt, I ſhall be quite angry, if you keep me any longer in ſuſpence.

Mrs. Faſh.

Angry! no, no, that face of yours was never made for frowning.—What ſay you to a new admirer, now?

Miſs Bloom.

Pſha! was this the mighty matter,—I don't want admirers, I promiſe you.

Mrs. Faſh.

No, by my faith, don't you, but this is one out of the common road.

Miſs Bloom.

Then, he had better turn into the common road again, or he may chance to go aſtray.

Mrs. Faſh.

Ah! you are always witty.—Oh, he is one of the clevereſt, propereſt, beſt-bred gentlemen,—I'm ſure he brings tears into my eyes, to hear all the fine things he ſays of you.

Miſs Bloom.

You are very tender, indeed, Mrs. Faſhion.

Mrs. Faſh.

As a chicken.—And then for quality, he tops them all.

Miſs Bloom.

Does he?

Mrs. Faſh.

Oh, yes, Miſs—You muſt know that his father's a Lord, he is the eldeſt ſon, but upon ſome little diſagreement—A love affair—A Lady of [12]vaſt fortune his father wanted him to marry.—He took lodgings in my houſe, in order to be private, till matters are made up.

Miſs Bloom.

Then he is your lodger at preſent?

Mrs. Faſh.

And the beſt lodger I ever had—Money is no more to him than pins are to me.—Then for company, my houſe is hardly ever empty of Lords, Dukes, and Baronets.

Miſs Bloom.

Oh! he lives quite private, I find.—But, pray, what may be the name of this extraordinary perſon?

Mrs. Faſh.

Why that's a ſecret—But between ourſelves, I have found out from his ſervants, that he is the young Lord Flamwell.

Miſs Bloom.

Flamwell!—I never heard of the name before—But that's no wonder, for of late, nobility ſpring up like muſhrooms.—

Mrs. Faſh.

He has ſeen you at ſome of the public places, and has been dying for you ever ſince.

Miſs Bloom.

So, you are come Embaſſadreſs from him?

Mrs Faſh.

Me, Miſs!—Lord, what could put ſuch a thing into your head?—He does not even know that I ever ſaw you—And yet, he is in ſuch diſtreſs, that if you would condeſcend to come to my houſe this afternoon—

Miſs Bloom.

To your houſe?—Surely, Mrs. Faſhion, you don't imagine, that—

Mrs. Faſh.

Nay, only for a quarter of an hour, or ſo, by way of amuſement.

Miſs Bloom.

I thank you, but I don't want amuſement.

Mrs. Faſh.

But, I have ſome of neweſt faſhions come over from Paris—Not a creature in London has ſeen them, but myſelf—O, they'd become your Ladyſhip admirably—So elegant, ſo pretty—If you chuſe, you may have the honour of leading the taſte for the next three months.

Miſs Bloom.
[13]

My dear Mrs. Faſhion, you are very good.

Mrs. Faſh.

Ay, I thought I ſhou'd pleaſe you.

Miſs Bloom.

Then, I'll order my chair, and give you a call before dinner.

Mrs. Faſh.

I never ſaw any thing in my life ſo becoming.

Miſs Bloom.

Be ſure, you don't let them be ſeen by any body before I come.

Mrs. Faſh.

Seen! no, not if a Dutcheſs was to bribe me.—Then, I'll expect your Ladyſhip.—Lord, what time I have ſpent, prattle, prattle, never think, and yet, ſo much work!—Hurry, hurry, not a minute to loſe—Your Ladyſhip's moſt obedient, humble ſervant.

[Exit Faſhion.
Miſs Bloom.

This intelligence has given me new ſpirits—I proteſt, I began to be apprehenſive that my charms were on the fade—A whole week paſſed, and not one new admirer.

Enter Miſs BELGROVE.
Miſs Bloom.

My dear Belgrove, you are come moſt opportunely—Do you know, that ſince I ſaw you laſt, I have made a freſh conqueſt?

Miſs Belg.

I don't find any thing ſo ſurprizing in that.

Miſs Bloom.

Why no, that's true, but I have now roſe a ſtep higher, and captivated a Lord.

Miſs Belg.

Lord, or commoner, I ſuppoſe he'll ſhare the ſame fate with the reſt.

Miſs Bloom.

Certainly, my dear, you would not have me be unjuſt.

Miſs Belg.

No, really, I would not, therefore entirely diſapprove of your making ſuch fools of them.

Miſs Bloom.

You miſtake, child, the generality of them were fools ready made to my hand.

Miſs Belg.

Some of them might be ſo, but I don't find you are in the leaſt more favourable to men of ſenſe.

Miſs Bloom.
[14]

Oh! I hate your ſenſible men, and take a particular pleaſure in tormenting them.

Miſs Belg.

That's very extraordinary.—But why ſo?

Miſs Bloom.

Becauſe it adds more to my reputation, to lead in chains one of thoſe wiſe Lords of the creation, who has ſenſe enough to know I uſe him ill, yet not power ſufficient to break his fetters, than a thouſand of thoſe mincing, whiffling, trifling, good-for-nothing, pretty, Maſter Jeſſamys.

Miſs Belg.

Well! tho' I ſhall never approve of your ſcheme, I almoſt wiſh for your ſpirits.

Miſs Bloom.

Spirits, my dear!—Lord, what ſhould put me out of ſpirits?—Time enough for me to pine and languiſh, when the Hey-day of my charms are over—Mine, I'm afraid, will be but a ſhort reign, ſo am determin'd to make the moſt of it.

Miſs Belg.

Then I find you do intend to marry.

Miſs Bloom.

Yes, yes, ſome time or other.—. It wou'd mortify me prodigiouſly, to die an old maid.—No, no, I aſſure you, I have not the leaſt ambition to lead apes, no more than I have at preſent to be led by one myſelf.—I wou'd only play with the male creatures, as a ſkilful angler does with his fiſh.—Amuſe myſelf the ſportive ſummer's day, bait my hook well for gudgeons, ſee the pretty innocents, nibble, nibble, nibble, as faſt as I could caſt in—Draw them out when I pleaſed—Stroke the delicate things, and then throw them in again—till evening ſun having diſagreeably lengthen'd my ſhadow, pick out the hero of the ſtream, and retire to my ruſtic cottage, content with the pleaſures of the day.

Miſs Belg.

But, pray, in the midſt of this round of amuſements, do you never feel a pang for the loſs of Sedley?

Miſs Bloom.

If I really thought I had loſt him for ever, I ſhould be heartily mortified.

Miſs Belg.

Don't you think it begins to look like it?

Miſs Bloom.
[15]

Why, I am a little alarmed,—for to confeſs the truth ſincerely, which in thoſe caſes I very ſeldom do—Of all the men that ever addreſs'd me, he is the only one who has made an impreſtion on my heart.

Miſs Belg.

Why did not you uſe him better?

Miſs Bloom.

'Tis not in my nature to be ſerious long together, therefore why ſhould he expect it?

Miſs Belg.

Conſider the many obligations you are under to him.—The many dangers he reſcued you from, which your innocent levity expoſed you to.

Miſs Bloom.

That's true; but then he ſhould not have taken ſo ungenerous an advantage of them, as to tell me, that I did wrong, and preſcribe rules for my future conduct.

Miſs Belg.

Were not thoſe rules for your good?

Miſs Bloom.

Yes, but we are not always diſpos'd to reliſh advice.

Miſs Belg.

I really think, if you loſe him, you'll never meet with ſuch another.

Miſs Bloom.

If I am diſappointed of him, I ſhall never have any other, that's paſt a doubt—And as a proof, were he now to return, I would frankly own, that, though I am innocent, even in intention of acting wrong, yet, my thoughtleſſneſs, many times, leads me into great errors, which nothing but the ſincerity of my heart can excuſe.

Miſs Belg.

'Tis great pity you did not make this declaration before.

Miſs Bloom.

Pſha! he muſt take me, as he finds me.—Can he be ſo unconſcionable as to expect, that I ſhould draw up my head, hold down my eyes, put my hands together, drop him a low curteſy, and ſay,—I have been a naughty girl to be ſure, but, pray forgive me this time, and indeed, and double deed, I'll do ſo no more?

Miſs Belg.

No, but he might reaſonably expect, that you'd diſmiſs your numerous train of followers; [16]—and, as you have often ſacrificed men of worth at the ſhrine of folly, ſo in return, to make a general oblation—Offer up a hecatomb of fools, at the altar of diſcretion.

Miſs Bloom.

Do I bid the creatures follow me?

Miſs Belg.

Nor don't you encourage them, when they do?

Miſs Bloom.

Ay, that is, becauſe I hate ill-nature.

Miſs Belg.

But are not you afraid your reputation ſhould ſuffer?

Miſs Bloom.

Oh, my dear, not in the leaſt—Every thing we do becomes us,—Our very frailties are pleaſing.

Miſs Belg.

Conſider, the—

Miſs Bloom.

Poſitively, I won't conſider about the matter—So, come along, and always remember theſe never-failing lines—

If to her ſhare, ſome female errors fall,
Look on her face, and you'll forget them all.
End of the Firſt Act.

ACT II.

[17]
SCENE, CAPTAIN HELM'S.
CAPTAIN HELM diſcover'd lying on a Couch, SWAB waiting.
Helm.

SWAB!

Swab.

Here, your Honour.

Helm.

What ſort of weather abroad?

Swab.

A little hazey, your Honour; the wind S. S-E.

Helm.

D'ye think you cou'd take me under convoy as far as Lady Younglove's?

Swab.

I warrant I'll tow you along, if ſo be as how you'll keep above water.

Helm.

Say you ſo?—Then on with your beſt jacket and trowſers, and help me to rig myſelf out.

Enter SEDLEY.

Ha! Sedley!—What chear, boy?—How goes it?

Sedley.

Very well, I thank you, Captain.

Helm.

Give me your hand—here, Swab, help to heave me up—ſo, ſo—now, turn out, and keep a ſtrict watch.

Swab.

If Bet Mainſail, my meſs-mate's widow, hails me again, what anſwer ſhall I give her?

Helm.

Stow her hold well with right Nantz—Give her five guineas to buy new rigging, and tell her, if ſhe'll hoiſt the ſign of Admiral Boſeawen on Portſmouth Common, I'll take care to keep her off a lee ſhore.

Swab.

Bleſs your Honour's glory!—She ſhall have as much of the good creature as ſhe can carry;—and, ſnatch my bowlings, if I don't tip her half a piece myſelf, for old acquaintance ſake.

[Exit.
Helm.
[18]

You ſee I am laid upon the ſtocks a little, but no matter for that—Tho' my out-works are ſomething damaged, yet my inſide is heart of oak.

Sedley.

I am glad to hear it—Preſuming, Captain, on the regard you always profeſt for me, I am now come to intercede in behalf of your nephew.

Helm.

Avaſt, avaſt, tack about, and pay away no more of that cable—My nephew, d'ye ſee, is a lazy land-lubber—If he had taken my advice, I would have made a man of him, and taught him to hand, reef, and ſteer, with e'er a ſeaman in the navy.

Sedley.

Theſe are accompliſhments, Captain, not ſuitable to every man's taſte and genius.

Helm.

Then their taſte is not worth a rope's end—I myſelf, tho' a younger brother, made my own fortune while his father was ſquandering away his—I was twice round the globe, before I was forty—In every birth, from cabbin-boy, up to Captain of the Terrible—And now, having ſufficient to lie by, I am reſolved to enjoy it, and ride in a ſmooth harbour all the reſt of my days.

Sedley.

But, Captain, tho' you was ſo fond of the ocean, and had ſuch ſucceſs, your nephew may not have the ſame inclinations, and you ſhould make ſome allowance.

Helm.

No, that's not my way—So, if he has a mind to gain the wind of my affection, he muſt ſheer off from the little frigate he has ſo long kept in chace, and let me fit him out for a vovage in the Tempeſt, which ſails in a few weeks for the Eaſt-Indies.

Sedley.

Then your reſolution is fixed—

Helm.

As the Poles.

Sedley.

And in his abſence, I ſuppoſe, you intend attacking Miſs Flora yourſelf.

Helm.

Right, I have ſome thoughts of bearing down that way.

Sedley.

But, Captain, don't the great diſparity of years between you and her, deter you?

Helm.
[19]

No, the more danger, the more honour—Mayhap, you may think it ſtrange, that after ſteering ſo long clear of a wife, I ſhould, all of a ſudden, veer about, and clap the matrimonial tack aboard.

Helm.

He that's long at ſea, will find the wind blow from every point of the compaſs—I have ſeldom been ſix months a-ſhore at one time, ſince I was a boy, ſo never had opportunity of coming a-long-ſide any but ſuch as your Portſmouth or Plymouth fireſhips, who damage every veſſel they grapple with.

Sedley.

And them, I ſuppoſe, you avoided.

Helm.

Why, ay—So, d'ye ſee, being lately weather-bound in a trip I made to take obſervation of ſome land that lay a-head of Lady Younglove's, I was forced to put into port at her houſe.

Sedley.

Where you ſaw her beautiful daughter.

Helm.

I did, and in the three glaſſes we ſtaid there, ſhe drew my heart with as ſtrong an attraction, as ever the loadſtone did the needle.

Sedley.

Have you communicated your ſentiments to the mother?

Helm.

No, not yet, but I intend ſhaping my courſe that way directly.

Sedley.

I believe, Captain, I can be of ſervice to you in this affair.

Helm.

As how, pray?

Sedley.

I am this moment going to pay my addreſſes to the mother.

Helm.

What, the old hulk?—Ah, my boy, I'm afraid you are out of your reckoning there—You don't know the trim of her—She'll not be brought to obey either the helm, or the ſheet, and if you'll take my advice, you'll e'en let her drop to pieces where ſhe lies at anchor.

Sedley.

I'll venture, however—The more danger, the more honour, as you ſay; and if you'll aſſiſt me, I don't doubt of ſucceeding.

Helm.
[20]

Well, well, ſince the current of your inclination ſets that way, I ſhan't attempt to ſtem it—thof, let me tell you, ſhe ſaw her two former conſorts go to the bottom, and if you don't take care, you'll ſhare the ſame fate.

Sedley.

I confeſs, I have a terrible proſpect, but nothing ſhall deter me—If you'll ſuſpend your viſit, I'll return as ſoon as our interview is over, and in form you of my ſucceſs.

Helm.

Ay, ay, I ſhall lie by 'till then—But, harkye, Sedley! may I never ſtrike an enemy's flag again, if I would not rather be rak'd fore and aft by a whole French ſquadron, than ſtand one broadſide from ſuch a Turkiſh pirate.

[Exeunt.
SCENE, Miſs BLOOMER'S.
Enter FONTANGE and FINESSE.
Fin.

So, den, de milliner introduce your Lady to de Lord Flamwell?

Font.

Oui, I overhear all, and my Lady be juſt gone to her houſe.

Fin.

Diable! I am almoſt diſtract!—I no ſooner get rid of von rival den anoder ſtart up.

Font.

Patience, Monſieur, we go on ver well—So long as we keep Sedley away, we no fear de reſt, but I expect Sir Whifling Trifle, Lady Younglove's broder, tout á l'heure, preſently.

Fin.

O dat is true, let him come ſo ſoon as he will; I am prepare for him.

Font.

Huſh! here he be.

Enter Sir WHIFFLING TRIFLF.
Sir Whif.

Now, my pretty Mademoiſelle, have I the happineſs of finding your Lady at home?

Font.

No, Monſieur, my Lady be juſt gone out, but here be a Gentleman who has been waiting for you wid de greateſt impatience.

Sir Whif.
[21]

For me! who is he, pray?

Font.

Monſieur le Marquis de Fineſſe, un grand voyageur, who be juſt arrive in England—He hear, par accident, of your viſiting my Lady, ſo—

Sir Whif.

Sir, you do me honour.

Font.

So, now I have introduce him; I'll leave you togeder, and go wait for my Lady.

[Exit.
Sir Whif.

Pray, Sir, may I without offence know the motive of this Interview?

Fin.

Curioſity, Monſieur, to ſee ſo great a man, whoſe actions Fame's brazen trompete has blazon'd to every diſtant part of de world.

Sir Whif.

Oh, dear Sir! this is too much—To be ſure, for theſe thirty years paſt, I've ſpent my whole time in the purſuit of objects diſregarded by the generality of the world; and, I think, I may without vanity ſay, that my labours have been ſucceſsful.

Fin.

Je le ſais bien, Monſieur, I know it, and from a ſimilarity of diſpoſition beg leave to court your acquaintance.

Sir Whif.

I ſhall be proud of the favour, Sir.

Fin.

I have myſelf, Monſieur, for deſe many years paſt, been a traveller, and collector of de raritie.

Sir Whif.

Sir, you pleaſe me very much—may I take the liberty to aſk, where you have been, and what curioſities you have collected?

Fin.

De tout mon coeur, Monſieur, wid all my heart—I have travelle over moſht parts of de globe, ſometime I ride, ſometime I valk, ſometime dey carry me againſt my will—Sometime at my own ſharge, and ſometime at de publique expence.

Sir Whif.

The public expence?

Fin.

Oh, Oui, for de good of de nation—Dat is when I be tranſporte.

(aſide)
Sir Whif.

Ah, that's an honour I am afraid I ſhall never arrive at—But pray let's hear.

Fin.
[22]

In Italy, Prince Palivicini preſente me wid a piece of de Veſuvian eruption dat choaka Pliny vid its ſmoke.

Sir Whif.

Wonderful!—But how are you certain of that?

Fin.

Oh, from a worm-eaten manuſcript preſerve wid it, whereon a P for Pliny, and V for Veſuvio, ſtill viſible.

Sir Whif.

Proof, proof enough.

Fin.

Oh, certainement—proof enough.

Sir Whif.

Had the whole manuſcript been preſerved it would not have been worth ſix-pence, but the obſcurity always enhances the value.

Fin.

I ſee you be de true Antiquarian, Monſieur.

Sir Whif.

Yes, yes, nobody underſtands theſe things better than I do—I have been in Italy myſelf, and viſited the ruins of Herculaneum.

Fin.

Well! dere you had ample ſtore.

Sir Whif.

Ample indeed—They were guarded with the utmoſt ſtrictneſs; nevertheleſs, by liberally bribing the ſeveral perſons appointed to watch them, I found means, at different times, to bring away almoſt a cart-load of legs, arms, and noſes belonging to the mutilated ſtatues.

Fin.

Eft il bien poſſible?—What a treaſure!

Sir Whif.

Yes, and I intend ſhortly publiſhing a dozen volumes folio, proving to demonſtration, the figures they belonged to.

Fin.

Oh, it will be of vaſt import to de publique.

Sir Whif.

Very great, I ſhall immortalize my name by it—Travels are ſo much the ton at preſent, that many go abroad on purpoſe to oblige the public at their return, with a relation of their wonderful adventures.

Fin.

And you be as well qualified as de beſt of dem.

Sir Whif.
[23]

I afterwards made ſome important diſcoveries in the North Sea.

Fin.

You did!

Sir Whif.

Yes, and actually brought away a large piece of ice from thence.

Fin.

Et bien! Monſieur—Well, and have you it now?

Sir Whif.

No, the heat of the ſun diſſolved it in our voyage home.

Fin.

Unfortunate!

Sir Whif.

Very unfortunate, but travellers are ſubject to diſappointments.

Fin.

A la verite, 'tis true, indeed, Monſieur—I have often myſelf experience de ſame—Une autre fois, an oder time I vil give you de whole account of all my voyage, but now let a me beg leave to make you de von little preſent.

Sir Whif.

Preſent!

Fin.

Oui, Monſieur, and ſuch a von as I do flatter myſelf you will not deſpiſe—In my laſt voyage wid Monſ. Bourgainville, touching on de coaſt of Patagonia, I purchaſe from von of deir ſages an ines;timable jewel.

Sir Whif.

A jewel!

Fin.

Not one of doſe ſo called by de Canaille, but an invaluable antique.

Sir Whif.

Is it poſſible!—I am all impatience—What can it be!

Fin.

Le Voici, ſee here!—

(taking on oyſter-ſhell with great form out of a box)

—Behold, an Antideluvian cockle ſhell!

Sir Whif.

I am ſtruck dumb with admiration!

Fin.

And well you may—You ſee, Monſieur, by de ſize of it, an undoubted proof of de giantiſm of old.

Sir Whif. (examining it)

Bleſs me!—'Tis as large as a modern oyſter, and I proteſt, ſeems very like one too.

Fin.
[24]

Right, Monſicur, ſo it do—You have de great diſcernment—who knows, indeed noting ſo probable, dan dat de very cockle ſhut up in dis, was Manger, eaten by our grand'mere Eve.

Sir Whif.

A happy thought, my friend—Eve's cockle-ſhell! I am raviſh'd at the idea!—But, what return, what recompenſe can I make for a gem of ſuch—

Fin.

O, noting at all, but de pleaſure of your acquaintance—I ſhall beg leave to ſee you again, in de evening, at Lady Younglove's.

Sir Whif.

Dear Sir! you do me too much honour.

Fin.

C'eſt Aſſez, Monſieur, enough—But as it is of ſuch conſequence, Sir Whifling, I muſt requeſt you'll immediately go and depoſit it in your cabinet wid your oder curioſities, for fear of accidents.

Sir Whif.

That I will, I aſſure you, Sir—I came purpoſely to pay my devoirs to the Goddeſs of this Manſion, but now beg you'll make my excuſes to her—I have now ſomething of more importance to attend to—Yes, yes, I think no one can blame my taſte, in preferring an Antideluvian cockle-ſhell to the fineſt woman in the creation.

[Exit.
Fin.

Ha! ha! ha! well ſaid, Old Antiquity—Begar, I believe I ſhall put de little ſheat upon him too—Now, to find Sedley again—I have buſineſs enough upon my hand—So much de better——Frenchmen have no occaſion to be idle, when Engliſhmen have ſo many follies and vices to work upon.

[Exit.
SCENE, Lady YOUNGLOVE'S.
(Lady YOUNGLOVE diſcovered dreſſing.)
Lady Young.

Where can this creature be!—Let me ſee—

(Looking in the glaſs)

—I think this complexion is the moſt agreeable to black—One can't be too nice in ſuiting the complexion to the dreſs.

[25] Where have you been, Frippery?

Frip.

Ordering a freſh quantity of your Ladyſhip's cordial, as you complained that the laſt was not ſtrong enough.

Lady Young.

You are a good girl—Has that impudent fellow, Woodford, been here to-day?

Frip.

No, Madam; the anſwer your Ladyſhip gave him yeſterday, will refer him from coming any more.

Lady Young.

I am very glad of it—An unmannerly rake-hell, not worth a ſhilling, to have the aſfurance to make love to a child before my face.

Frip.

'Twas monſtraceous rude, indeed, Madam—Had he the ſenſe to have paid his congratulations to your Ladyſhip, he might have been forgiven.

Lady Young.

True, Frippery; I cou'd much ſooner paſs over an affront of that ſort offered to myſelf, than her.

Frip.

That I am ſure of—

(aſide)

—Really, Madam, the exquiſitive charms of your Ladyſhip would be a ſufficient excuſe for ſuch an act of inſenſibility.

Lady Young.

O, fie, girl! how can you talk in ſuch a manner?—What charms can a woman of forty be ſuppoſed to have?

Frip.

Fifty, would be nearer the mark.

(aſide.)

—Your Ladyſhip certainly miſtakes your age.

Lady Young.

How! miſtake my age—Surely, huſſey, you don't mean—

Frip.

Yes, Madam; for by your looks, I ſhould take my book oath, that you were not above fiveand-twenty.

Lady Young.

Oh!—Why, I believe I do look very well for my years.

Frip.

Years!—Lud, Ma'am, how can you talk ſo abruptly?—As I am a woman of veracity, your Ladyſhip only looks like Miſs Flora's eldeſt ſiſter, [26]and are young enough to have half a dozen huſbands yet.

Lady Young.

You are a merry girl, and always ſtriving to divert your poor diſconſolate miſtreſs—Alas! my ſweet, dear man has been dead above three months, and no one has ſaid a civil thing to me yet.

Enter SERVANT.
Serv.

Mr. Sedley, to wait upon your Ladyſhip.

Lady Young.

Shew him up—Bleſs me! what can he want with me?

Enter SEDLEY.
Sedley. (bowing)

Your Ladyſhip's moſt obedient—How ſhall I apologize for this rudeneſs, Madam?

Lady Young.

O, dear Sir! there is not the leaſt occaſion—I think you are very kind thus to viſit a poor, diſtreſſed, afflicted widow.

Sedley.

You are goodneſs itſelf, Madam—I have waited on you now, my Lady, upon a very particular affair, which demands a few moments privacy.

Lady Young.

Frippery, you may retire.

Frip.

Yes, my Lady—Hem!—but by virtue of my office, I'll make bold to liſten; ſo, wiſe Sir, you might as well have let me ſtaid.

(Retires to the ſide, and liſtens.)
Sedley.

Now, Madam, that we are alone, can you forgive the folly, the preſumption, the—call it what you pleaſe—which urged me on to this raſh attempt?

Lady Young.

Upon my word, Sir, I can't comprehend you.

Sedley.

And yet, when you ſhall know how long I have ſighed in ſecret, how long been tortured with deſpair, before I dare pronounce the ſacred name of love—

Lady Young.

Love, Sir!

Sedley.

Yes, Madam; who could behold ſuch beauty, and not adore?

Lady Young.
[27]

So! Miſs has got another lover, I find, but I'll ſoon ſilence him.

(aſide)

Really, Sir, this is a language I muſt not ſuffer—'Tis highly improper for a child like mine to hear, theſe many years to come.

Sedley.

Child, Madam!—Is it poſſible you can miſtake my meaning?

Lady Young.

Why, Sir, was not all this deſigned for my daughter?

Sedley.

For Miſs Flora, Madam!—No, as your Ladyſhip's daughter, ſhe could not but have ſome charms; but I muſt be blind indeed, to offer up my vows to ſuch a baby—You'll excuſe my freedom, Madam.

Lady Young.

Oh, readily, Sir.

Sedley.

'Tis you, my Lady, who are the blooming Goddeſs of my adoration—Oh, how can I expreſs the inconceivable torments of my breaſt, for thoſe many years paſt!—During Sir Solomon's life, fear of offending tied up my tongue to a painful ſilence, and I was obliged to—

Lady Young.

I aſſure you, Sir, I pity you, and had I known your ſufferings, wou'd have contrived ſome method of ſoftening them.

Sedley.

I am tranſported to hear it—After his death, reſpect ſtill ſealed up my lips, 'till I found—for love, Madam, is Argus-eyed—that Mr. Woodford frequented this houſe, and was, without doubt, a favour'd lover—This made me reſolve to diſcover my hopeleſs paſſion, wait his arrival here, and thro' a happy rival's boſom, force my way to that heart which kings might be proud to call their own!

Lady Young.

Hold, Sir, you are in an error—'Twas not to me, but my daughter, his devoirs were paid.

Sedley.

Pardon me, Madam, I cannot ſuppoſe Mr. Woodford ſo inſenſible, as to think of any other object, when you are preſent.

Lady Young.
[28]

O, dear Sir, he has not half the complaiſance you have!—What a charming man he is!

(aſide.)
Sedley.

My character, and family, Madam, you are no ſtranger to—My eſtate is conſiderable, and, if it is not too great a preſumption, give me leave to caſt both it, and a heart unalterably devoted to you, at your feet.

(kneeling.)
Lady Young.

O, riſe, dear Sir—You overwhelm me with confuſion!—Sure, you cannot poſſibly find any thing ſo attracting in a face, which conſtant grief has made ſuch an impreſſion on.

Sedley

Hem! Now for a little more nonſenſe.

(aſide)

Come, my beauteous widow, caſt aſide theſe weeds of ſorrow, and be arrayed in robes more ſplendid, and more becoming ſuch a divinity.

Lady Young.

Impoſſible—I fear, Sir!

Sedley.

Impoſſble!

Lady Young.

Almoſt, Sir—What will the world ſay of ſo haſty, ſo precipitate an act?

Sedley.

Umph! I find her coming.

(aſide)

Love, Madam, will plead for all—'Tis a crime againſt his power to reſiſt—Beſides, enough you have ſacrificed to ſorrow—Three months at leaſt.

Lady Young.

Oh, Sir, more—Sixteen weeks tomorrow—But, what are ſixteen weeks, ſixteen months, or ſixteen years, to mourn the loſs of ſo good a man.

Sedley.

Come, Madam, no more of theſe melancholy reflections—The only remedy in the world for a lady's immoderate grief on the loſs of a favourite, be it monkey, lap-dog, or huſband, is to get another.

Lady Young.

Indeed, Sir, I believe you are perfectly right—I remember, ſome years ago, I was utterly inconſolable on the death of a beautiful parrot, 'till the loſs was ſupplied by an enchanting owl, which was preſented me.

Sedley.

Then let me, Madam, by the warmth of my paſſion, dry up your tears for Sir Solomon Younglove.

Lady Young.
[29]

Surely, Sir, you are uncommonly perſuading—Well! to try your conſtancy, if you perſevere in your intention, till my year of widowhood be expired, I don't know but I may be tempted to reward it.

Sedley.

A year, Madam!—An age!—For heaven's ſake, my dear Lady, have ſome compaſſion.

Lady Young.

Believe me, Sir, I am very compaſſionate.

Sedley.

Wou'd you have me die at your feet?

Lady Young.

No, not for the world—Rather than you ſhould do that, I will ſhorten it—to—to half the time.

Sedley.

She ſoon drops.

(aſide)

Still, madam, I find you are cruelly reſolved not to make me happy, therefore hopeleſs, and deſpairing, let me bid you eternally, eternally, adieu!

[Going.
Lady Young.

Stay, ſir, ſtay—Muſt not I pay my laſt huſband the ſame compliment I did my firſt?

Sedley.

What was that madam?

Lady Young.

Wait five ſhort, ſhort months.

Sedley.

Look you, my Lady, I would do as I would be done by—If you ſurvive me, you have my conſent to marry again the next day.

Lady Young.

I confeſs, ſir, you are the moſt reaſonable man I ever met with.

Sedley.

But, I ſee, madam, you are inexorable, ſo muſt retire, and in ſecret, lament my adverſe fortune.

Lady Young.

Dear ſir, ſtay—What can I ſay? I vow you are quite irreſiſtible—Well, then,—though overwhelm'd with bluſhes—To-morrow, I conſent to be yours.

Sedley.

Retard not my joy ſo long, but let this night crown my happineſs—I ſee a kind conſenting ſmile ſparkle in your eye, and thus, I thank you

(Kiſſes her)

Oh, zounds! that was too much!

(aſide.
Lady Young.
[30]

Who can withſtand ſuch rhetoric!—You have conquered, ſir, and I ſurrender at diſcretion.

Sedley.

And now, my dear Lady, as our intereſts are to be one—If you give me leave, I can aſſiſt you in diſpoſing of Miſs Flora.

Lady Young.

You cou'd not oblige me more, ſir, for, poor child! ſhe ſeems in great haſte to be married.

Sedley.

Not ſo much as her mother, I'll be ſworn.

(aſide)

I think, my Lady, I could recommend one you can have no objection to—Captain Helm, your neighbour.

Lady Young.

Captain Helm—Do you think that poſſible?

Sedley.

Nothing eaſier, if your Ladyſhip does not chuſe to prevent it.

Lady Young.

I prevent it; heavens forbid!—Poor dear child, it wou'd be a happy day for her.

Sedley.

Happy, indeed, madam.—He has been raving about Miſs, ever ſince his accidentally ſeeing her in the country, and longing for an opportunity of declaring himſelf—Nay, more—he knows of my viſit to you, and hopes this evening will unite both parties.

Lady Young.

I'm ſure I would do any thing in reaſon to ſecure her felicity.

Sedley.

Captain Helm, madam, is prodigiouſly in love, vet has many odd whims, and like the element he belongs to, is very ſubject to change.

Lady Young.

Oh, if he was once bound, we'd give him leave to change.

Sedl.

True, madam, therefore we had better make ſhort work of it, and take him while he is in the humour.

Lady Young.

Well! do juſt as you pleaſe, dear [31]Mr. Seley—I am now your property, ſo diſpoſe of me and mine, as you like.

Sedley.

I'll ſtep directly to my lawyer's to prepare the deeds, then return with Captain Helm—Meantime, my lovely charmer! diveſt yourſelf of thoſe beauty-veiling weeds, relumine the circle you were wont to ſhine in, and prepare to bleſs the happieſt mortal in the world!

[Exit.
Lady Young.

What a bewitching man!—But, there is not a moment to loſe, I muſt ſet about making the neceſſary preparations immediately—Well, who could have thought when I got up this morning, that I ſhould be a bride before night.—O, lud! a third huſband is a happineſs I never expected.

[Exit.
FRIPPERY coming forward.
Frip.

So! Upon my word, a tender ſcene, and quite curry-curriſtical—When Miſs and her old ſeamonſter join them, they'll make a nice trio—But, it is unpoſſible all this can be real on his ſide; and if my old Lady was not ſo toſticated with her good fortune, ſhe might eaſily find it out—Oh, here comes Miſs, now we ſhall hear her ſentances of the matter.

Enter FLORA.
Flora.

Frippery, what's the matter with my mama? I met her this moment in unuſual ſpirits, and ſhe ordered me to follow her into her dreſſing-room.

Frip.

Spirits!—A third huſband is enough to put any woman turned of ſifty into ſpirits—Heaven help me! though I am half that age, I have not got one yet.

Flora.

What do you mean, Frippery?

Frip.

I mean, that your mama's going to be married, to-night.

Flora.

To-night!

Frip.

Yes, to-night.

Flora.
[32]

More ſhame for her.

Frip.

Ay, ſo ſay I.

Flora.

I'm ſure it wou'd be fitter for her to get me a huſband firſt.

Frip.

Oh! you are to be married at the ſame time.

Flora.

Am I?—I'm afraid that's too good news to be true.—But tell me ſincerely, are not you joking now?

Frip.

Not I, upon my word.

Flora.

Well, that is charming!—Only feel what a palpitation it has cauſed here,—for all the world like the fluttering of my little Robin Red-breaſt.

Frip.

Ay, my dear, I have often had ſuch fluſtrations.

Flora.

And does Mr. Woodford know it?

Frip.

Mr. Woodford, Lord, Miſs, he is not to be the man.

Flora.

No!—Who then?

Frip.

Why, his uncle, Captain Helm, who you remember viſited us ſome time ago in the country.

Flora.

What, that ugly old fright, who I compar'd to King Priam in the puppet-ſhew?

Frip.

The very idential man, Miſs.

Flora.

Was there ever anything ſo ridiculous!—A huſband, Ha! ha! ha!—O yes, to be ſure he's a very proper huſband for a girl of my age and ſpirit.—It is a wonder, Frippery, ſhe did not think of a dancing bear for me—I'm ſure, he's much the more agreeable and poliſh'd animal of the two.

Frip.

Indeed, Miſs, I muſt ſay, that he's the moſt oddeſt, damphibious looking creature I ever ſaw—But your mama intends to make you have him, or not a penny of fortune.

Flora.

A fig for fortune, ſay I.—Before ſhe ſhould ſacrafice me to ſuch a compound of age and infirmity, I'd bid adieu to all ideas of future grandeur, [33]and boldly fly, with the man of my heart, to thoſe regions of love and happineſs, where true content is only to be found.

Enter SERVANT.
Serv.

My Lady deſires you, Mrs. Frippery, to go directly for her diamond ear-rings, that are mending at the jeweller's, and not to ſtay a moment, for ſhe wants you in all haſte to help her to dreſs.

Frip.

So! ſhe's in a hurry, I find.

Serv.

Hurry! ecod, I believe ſhe's poſſeſt—ſhe has order'd us all to get on our ſtate liveries, that were made in her firſt huſband's time, and the houſekeeper is to provide ſuch a ſupper, that, lud have mercy upon me!—Hark! her bell rings.—

[Exit; returns.]

Oh, I had forgot—Miſs Flora, you are to go to your mama directly.

Flora.

Tell her, I won't, John.

Frip.

No, John, tell her ſhe's coming.

Serv.

Well, do juſt as you pleaſe for that.—Coming, my Lady, coming—Zounds! I wiſh the bell was tied about your neck.

[Exit.
Frip.

My dear, you muſt go—endeavour to humour your mama now.—Only ſeem to be agreeable to her marriage, and perhaps ſhe may not inſiſt on yours.

Flora.

Nay, I did not care if ſhe married a new huſband every month, ſo ſhe'd only let me have Mr. Woodford; and I'm ſure that's not unreaſonable.—But will you, my dear Frippery, in the mean time, endeavour to find him out, and let him know my diſtreſs?

Frip.

That I will, I'll enſure you.—Do you think I cou'd refuſe any thing in my power, to help ſuch a couple of true lovyers?—No, no, Frippery always does as ſhe'd be done by—and, I'm ſure all I wait for myſelf is,—the man to aſk me the queſtion.

[Exit.
Flora.
[34]

Well!—Some girls now, in my ſituation, wou'd, in deſpair of relief, hang or drown themſelves, and ſo put an end to their adventures at once. To be ſure, my ſituation is very critical—Solely dependant on a mother—Denied the man I love, and obliged to receive the odious addreſſes of one I hate, are difficulties not eaſily ſurmounted—Yet, a good heart, and a fertile head, may do much—And if I do ſurmount them, I think I ſhall deſerve a ſtatue raiſing to my conſtancy and fidelity.

[Exit.
End of the Second Act.

ACT III.

[35]
SCENE, Mrs. FASHION'S.
Enter FLAMWELL, and Mrs. FASHION.
Flam.

Well, my good mother, what ſucceſs?—I have been upon the rack ever ſince you went—Come, tell me—Any hopes?

Faſh.

Hopes!—When did you know me undertake any thing that fail'd?

Flam.

But, have you mention'd me?

Faſh.

Yes, yes, I have done more for you than ever your own mother did—Look you, I expect no leſs than a thouſand pounds for my ſhare—Ay, all ſigned and ſealed before conſummation.

Flam.

You ſhall have it without the leaſt ſcruple.

Faſh.

Scruple, indeed!—A hundred a year for life.

Flam.

Certainly.

Faſh.

An elegant houſe, ready furniſhed.

Flam.

All very reaſonable.

Faſh.

Ay, I was always remarked for my reaſon and moderation.—Well! after this affair is over, I ſhall have nothing to do, but to live with credit and character, the reſt of my days.

Flam.

Then you think we ſhall ſucceed?

Faſh.

Quite certain of it.

Flam.

You tranſport me!

Faſh.

Such a lovely, tender, ſweet chicken!—Ah, rogue, if you ſhould not behave well to her, you'll break my heart.

Flam.

Oh, never fear that—You know I am a man of the ſtricteſt honour.

Faſh.
[36]

Yes, I have had many proofs of your honour.

(aſide.)

Ay, 'tis that conſideration alone which urges me on—I would not have helped her to every body, for heaven knows, it is not the little traſh I am to get by it, that—

Flam.

No, to be ſure.

Faſh.

I ſay, 'tis not the trifle I am to get by it, but the ſurety of providing her with a good huſband.

Flam.

But all this while you keep me in ſuſpence—What ſaid ſhe?—When may I hope to ſee her?

Faſh.

Said! no bird ever fell into a fowler's ſnare ſo readily—She believes every ſyllable about your title and fortune, is as impatient as you are for an interview, and promis'd to be here directly.

Flam.

Egad, you have made quick work of it—Be here directly—Zounds! I am afraid I ſhall want aſſurance to go through with it.

Faſh.

After what you have gone through already, I think there can be no great danger now.

Flam.

You muſt introduce me properly, elſe, as I have never ſeen her, I may make ſome miſtake.

Faſh.

I muſt own your head is not the beſt in the world, but here you can't readily go wrong—Be fure you keep up to your part—Talk of the years you have been dying for her in ſecret—Flatter her charms to the utmoſt—Speak highly of your family and connections—If you ſhould make ſome trifling blunders, I'll place them to the exceſs of your paſſion—The moſt pleaſing excuſe which can be given to a woman fond of adoration.

Flam.

As for that matter, you know I am ſeldom at a loſs for words.

Faſh.

Yes, I know the height of your oratory, but let me tell you, ſhe muſt be attack'd in a very different manner from the nymphs you have been uſed to.

Flam.
[37]

Well, well, I'll take care now to be on the other ſide, and be as high-flown as poſſible—I have been ſtudying hard words for that purpoſe.

[Knocking at the door.
Faſh.

As I live, that's her rap—She's impatient indeed!

Flam.

Zounds! I am quite unprepared—What ſhall I do?

Faſh.

Receive her as if by accident—She'll pretend ſhe's come to me, but I'll not appear till the firſt ceremonies are over.

Flam.

Hold—Don't leave us together.

Faſh.

Not another word, but make good uſe of your time.

[Exit.
Flam.

I wiſh with all my ſoul, it was over—Hem! hem!

Enter Miſs BELGROVE.
He bows aukwardly, ſhe curtſies.
Flam. (In confuſion)

Ma'am—your—your—moſt unlimitedly—obedient—I, I am—that is to ſay—extravagantly happy—in—in—in—

Miſs Belg.

I was told, ſir, that Mrs. Faſhion was here.

Flam.

Ay, that's right.

(aſide)

Hem! hem!—She only gave place, illuſtrious Lady, to let the reſplendency of your charms ſhine in their meridian luſtre!—Hem! hem!

Miſs Belg.

Sir!—Is it to me you addreſs this diſcourſe?

Flam.

Who elſe, thou ſovereign object of my wiſhes!—I have languiſh'd whole years for the happineſs of this interview, and now, I—

Miſs Belg.

Hold, ſir,—I am not to be treated in this ludicrous manner—Do you know who I am?

Flam.

Do the inhabitants of this nether world know the radiant ſun that daily illumines them?— [38]You, my angelic Miſs Bloomer, are my ſun, my moon, my ſtars, my whole planetary ſyſtem!—Pretty well that, I think.

[aſide.
Miſs Belg.

Miſs Bloomer!—Ha! there muſt be ſome trick in this—Some deſign on my fair friend—I'll fathom it.

[aſide.
Flam.

She heſitates—I believe I have done it—Bravo, my boy, I never knew your eloquence fail.

[aſide.
Miſs Belg.

Pray, ſir, who are you?

Flam.

Ah, madam! I am the unhappy Lord Flamwell, heir to one of the moſt noble families in England, with an independant fortune in my own poſſeſſion, which, with the moſt glowing heart that ever was offered up to Cytherea's goddeſs, I now preſent to you, my Cyprian Venus.

[Kneeling.
Miſs Belg.

And all this is deſigned for me?

Flam.

Alas! where's the merit in paying worſhip to the queen of beauty?—No, my adorable Miſs Bloomer, I long have loved, but till this happy moment, never had courage to tell you ſo.

Miſs Belg.

And I am to believe all this real?

Flam.

Every ſyllable of it true, by thoſe bright eyes!

Mrs. FASHION ſpeaks entering.

My dear Miſs Bloomer! this is ſo kind of you to call on—Ah! what do I ſee!—Miſs Belgrove!—My Lord, what are you about?

Flam.

Curſe me if I know!—

(Riſes, looks confuſedly, firſt at Miſs Belgrove, then at Mrs. Faſhion)

—Oh, my evil ſtars! what have I done now?

Miſs Belg.

Upon my word, Mrs. Faſhion, I am very glad you are come—You, perhaps, can explain this gentleman's meaning, which, I confeſs, is above my comprehenſion.

Mrs. Faſh.

My dear, ſweet Miſs Belgrove—This [39]gentleman—is a—a Lord—that—that—a—his friends have confined in my houſe for lunacy.

Miſs Belg.

I beg your pardon, Mrs. Faſhion, I did not know till now, that you kept a private madhouſe.

Mrs. Faſh.

Ah, poor nobleman! he's greatly to be pitied—All this is a love affair, Miſs—Gone quite diſtracted for love.

Miſs Belg.

For love!—And are you ſo famous for curing mad people?—Now, I think I could recommend a magiſtrate for his doctor, who could much ſooner reſtore him to his ſenſes.

Faſh.

Oh, your Ladyſhip miſtakes him quite—As innocent as a new-born babe—But, pray let me attend you into another room.

Miſs Belg.

I ſhan't ſtop—I only wanted to conſult you about the choice of ſome Bruſſells lace.

Faſh.

I'll wait on your Ladyſhip, at your own houſe directly.

Miſs Belg.

Whenever you are at leiſure.—Mean time, let me adviſe that gentleman, not to be ſo violent in his raptures, before he is certain of the perſon he addreſſes them to.

Faſh.

Ah, you are a witty Lady—Nay, by my ſaith, I'll wait on you to the door—This is ſo great an honour to call

(Turns and looks back at Flamwell)

Ah! conjuror.

[Exit with Miſs Belgrove.
FLAMWELL ſtands muſing.
Flam.

Tol, lol, lol.

(ſinging)

I believe it is all over—Ay, ay, my old luck purſues me ſtill, and if ever I do cut a diſtinguiſning figure in the world, I'm afraid it will be when I make my exit.

Mrs. Faſhion returns and curtſies.
Mrs. Faſh.

Your humble ſervant, good Mr. Blunder—You have made a notable piece of work here.

Flam.

What ſhall I do?

Faſh.
[40]

Hang, or drown yourſelf—'tis all over now.

Flam.

Was there ever ſo unlucky a dog!

Faſh.

Never—that I'll anſwer for—Nothing proſpers you undertake—What the deuce could poſſeſs you to make ſo egregious a miſtake?

Flam.

Zounds! you—You knew I had never ſeen Miſs Bloomer, and your declaring it was her, left me not the leaſt room to doubt.

Faſh.

Nothing could be more unfortunate!—The two ladies are intimate, and if a diſcovery ſhould enſue, I am entirely ruined.

Flam.

Can you think of nothing to prevent it?

Faſh.

I expect the real Miſs Bloomer every minute—When ſhe's gone, I'll wait upon Miſs Belgrove, and endeavour to perſuade her, that you really are a lunatic—And faith, if this affair fails, I ſhall be little better myſelf.

(Knocking)

Hark! I believe this is ſhe, in reality—Away, and be in readineſs, if I ſhould want you.

Flam.

Hearky'!—Take care how you introduce me to the next Miſs Bloomer.

[Exit.
Enter Miſs BLOOMER.
Miſs Bloom.

Now, Faſhion, I am as good as my word, you ſee.

Faſh.

Heaven bleſs you! that you always are.

Miſs Bloom.

But come, I have not a moment to loſe.

Faſh.

Ah, that ſweet countenance!—I don't wonder ſo many gentlemen deſpair of obtaining ſo great a prize.

Miſs Bloom.

What do you mean?

Faſh.

I am ſure I can't blame the extravagance of Lord Flamwell's paſſion—And, by my faith, he ſwears he can't live without you.

Miſs Bloom.

Lord Flamwell!—Who is he, pray?

Faſh.
[41]

The young nobleman, I told your Ladyſhip about this morning—Well, a ſweeter, better humour'd, or more generous man, was never ſeen—Had you beheld with what tranſports he received the news of your coming hither.

Miſs Bloom.

Why, ſurely, you did not tell him any ſuch thing?

Faſh.

Really, Miſs, he look'd ſo piteouſly, I cou'd not help it—Oh, Mrs. Faſhion, ſays he, if my beauteous angel will but conſent to be mine, how happy ſhall I be!—My whole fortune ſhall be at her command—What pleaſure ſhall I take in introducing her to my Siſters, Lady Lucy, Lady Sophia, and Lady Harriet.

Miſs Bloom.

Bleſs me! the Gentleman ſeems to have a number of relations—But I have not time to loſe about ſuch trifles.

Faſh.

Do you call breaking a nobleman's heart, a trifle?

Miſs Bloom.

Yes—to me the greateſt trifle in the world.

Faſh.

Ah, you'll pay for all, one day or other—But, do now, give me leave to introduce him to you.

Miſs Bloom.

Who, me?—Not I, I poſitively aſſure you—'Tis your own houſe, you know, and if you chuſe to do it—I can't help you.

Faſh.

Well, I'll venture your diſpleaſure—I'm ſure you would not be the death of any perſon, nor diſcompoſe that ſweet face of yours with a frown, for the world.

[Exit.
Miſs Bloom.

What a fool am I, to be flatter'd by ſuch a fulſome old woman—I am certainly an odd compoſition—to be pleaſed with what at the ſame time I ſo much deſpiſe—Now, for my Lord—If his heart does not ſpeedily go pit-a-pit, and I don't make him as great a rool as I have dome the reſt of my admirers, why I'll conteſs, I've loſt the art of tormenting.

[42]
Enter FLAMWELL and Mrs. FASHION.
Faſh.

Miſs Bloomer, Lord Flamwell, who has long wiſh'd to pay his reſpects to you.

[He offers to ſalute her.
Miſs Bloom.

Hold, my Lord, we muſt be upon a more intimate footing, before I allow liberties of that ſort.

Flam.

I ſtand juſtly reproved, Madam, for my preſumption, and own I merit the fate of—of—Icarus, who drove the Chariot of Apollo—Yet, if you'll but—

Miſs Bloom.

Ha! ha! ha!—Your Lordſhip muſt pardon this emotion, which the profundity of your learning has involuntarily extorted from me—Ha! ha! ha! If I don't miſtake, Icarus was a near relation of yours.

Flam.

Of mine, Madam,—Yes—No, no, he has been dead, for ought I can tell, theſe—theſe hundred years paſt.

Miſs Bloom.

Ha! ha! ha! I know it, my Lord, but you certainly are of the ſame family, and endeavour to imitate him, in ſoaring ſo high.

Flam.

If I have committed any error, your charms, Madam, are a ſufficient excuſe.

Miſs Bloom.

True, my Lord, my charms have led many people into very great errors, and if you don't take care, you'll ſtand in the ſame predicament.

Flam.

I wiſh it, Madam.—If I am ſo conſpicuouſly happy, as to poſſeſs you, I ſhall be the envy of the gaping world—Adorable creature! behold, thus proſtrate at your feet, the unhappy Lord Flamwell, who vows never more to riſe, till you have put a period to his ſufferings.

(Kneeling.)
Miſs Bloom.

And that, I vow, my Lord, will never be.

Faſh.

Ah, the ſweet youth! it brings tears into my eyes, to ſee what a condition love has reduced him to.

Miſs Bloom.

Pray, my Lord, let's have that ſpeech [43]over again—Stay, you ſhall ſee how gracefully it comes from me in heroics.

(Mimicking.)
Thus at your feet, Pompoſo Flamwell lies,
There vows to ſtay, until you bid him—riſe.
Flam.

I find ſhe's an overmatch for me, every way.

(aſide)
Faſh.

Come, Miſs Bloomer, let me put in a word for his Lordſhip—As I can anſwer for the ſincerity and honourableneſs of his intentions, I hope you'll not ſtand on unneceſſary punctilio—You ſee he cannot live without you—Reward his paſſion with your hand, and let me this evening, ſalute you Lady Flamwell.

Flam.

Thou, more than Goddeſs! if you judge my fortune, title, or family, not beneath your acceptance, bleſs me with your love, and crown my wiſhes.

Faſh.

Ay, I ſee a kind conſenting look in theſe pretty tell-tale ſparklers—Juſt ſo, I look'd myſelf, on ſuch an occaſion—By my faith, we'll have a wedding directly—Let your Lordſhip's Chaplain be call'd in, and the ceremony immediately performed.

Miſs Bloom.

Hold, hold, pray let me get in a word with you—Look you, my Lord, I have not been uſed to ſuch treatment, nor do I underſtand your meaning—As to you, Mrs. Faſhion, I am ſurprized you don't know me better—But, be aſſur'd, as this is the firſt time I've been in your houſe, ſo it ſhall be the laſt.

[Going.
Flam. (Kneeling.)

Stay, charming, cruel tyrant, and take my life before you go.

Miſs Bloom.

What uſe ſhall I make of it, my Lord?—You had better make a preſent of it to ſome other perſon, who prefers a title before underſtanding, and wealth beyond happineſs.

Faſh.

My dear Miſs Bloomer, how can you be angry with me?—If my Lord loves you to diſtraction, am I to blame, in endeavouring to promote your future felicity?

Flam.
[44]

Then will you not give me leave to hope?—And muſt thoſe charms, which like the ſun diſpenſe their refreſhing beams around the celeſtial hemiſphere, be only withheld from me?

Miſs Bloom.

My Lord, tho' I believe nobility and common ſenſe very compatible, yet, as you are not happily poſſeſſed of both, forgive me if I decline your very generous offer—And, be certain, if ever I do reſign my freedom, it ſhall be to a man who knows how to ſet a proper value on it.

[Exit.
Flam.

And, curſe catch me! if ever I am maſter of [...], if I don't make you heartily repent this treatment.

Faſh.

Go, you deſerve it all, for being ſo great an ideot.

Flam.

Zounds! woman, what would you have me do?—I ſpoke better than ever I did in my life before, but the Devil is not a match for ſuch a tongue.

Faſh.

No, not ſuch an ignorant Devil as you—But, ſhe ſhan't eſcape ſo—Ill after her, and endeavour to repair your miſtakes, then make my laſt bold effort—So, prepare yourſelf—the concluſion of this buſineſs will certainly be a wife, or—a halter!

[Exit.
Flam.

A wife, by all means—Of Two Evils, I always chuſe the leaſt.

[Exit.
SCENE, LADY YOUNGLOVE'S.
Enter Lady YOUNGLOVE, dreſt, and FLORA,
Lady Young.

How can you, Child, make all this noiſe about One Huſband, when you ſee, I have been oblig'd to have Two already, and am now under the cruel neceſſity of preparing for a Third.

Flora.

Yes, and that ſame cruel neceſſity would oblige you to marry a ſcore, if you could.

Enter SERVANT.
Serv.

Mr. Sedley, and Capt. Helm, to wait upon your Ladyſhip.

Lady Young.
[45]

Admit them.

Enter SEDLEY, Capt. HELM, and SWAB.

Gentlemen, you are very welcome.

Helm.

So, Widow! I underſtand you are hound for another voyage—Lookee, if the wind ſits fair, belike I ſhall bear you company.

Lady Young.

I am much obliged to you, Captain, for your good wiſhes, and hope my daughter may entertain a proper ſenſe of them.

Flora.

O, yes, he may be aſſur'd, that I entertain a very proper ſenſe of them.

Helm.

Thank you, thank you, Widow—Suppoſe I haul a chair, and ſound the coaſt, to ſee how the land lies.

Sedley.

Do, Captain—meantime, my fair widow and I have ſome private affairs to ſettle, that will require our abſence for a few minutes—Madam, will you indulge me ſo far—

Lady Young.

Dear Sir, I can't deny you any thing you aſk—

[Sedley hands her out with great ceremony.
Flora.

So, ſo!—they have left me to the mercy of this frightful Man of War—Now, for a love-ſcene of the tendereſt kind.

Helm.

Swab! go below—And, d'ye ſee, look out for a ſnug birth, call for a can of flip, and keep a tight reckoning, till I pipe you up again.

Swab.

I will, your honour, and drink ſucceſs to the chace.

[Exit.
Helm.

Now we are alone, I don't know what to ſay to her—By the meſs, I begin to find I've got out of my element.

Flora.

Well, I really think he is ten times uglier than when I ſaw him laſt.

Helm.

Hem?—If I was but once afloat, ſhou'd do well enough.

Flora.

What a pretty lover he makes—Poor [46]wretch!—I think I muſt plague him a little—Yes, yes, I muſt have ſome ſport with him.

Helm.

That it ſhou'd ever come to this!—I who have attacked ſo many firſt-rate men of war, now to be afraid of a little cock-boat.

Flora.

Pray, Captain, what makes you look ſo very grum?—If you are not well. I'll go and fetch ſome of my Mama's ſtomachic cordial for you.

Helm.

Hold, Miſs, I am pretty well, thank you—Hem!—

(After ſome preparation)

Pray, Miſs, were you ever at ſea?

Flora.

A good beginning—O, yes, Captain, very often—Why, I once went with my mama as far as Greenwich.

Helm.

Well, Miſs, what think you now, of a voyage to the Land of Matrimony?

Flora.

Voyage!—Why, I always thought that people went by land to be married—Now, I ſhou'd like to be married very well,—but not to you.

Helm.

All above board, I find—Mayhap, Miſs, you may think my timbers are not ſound, and that I want to be hove down—But, let me tell you, I am heartier than many, whoſe gingerbread rigging fly full in the wind's eye.

Flora.

Gingerbread rigging!—I'm ſure, I'd rather have a gingerbread huſband, than you.

Helm.

Ay, why ſo?

Flora.

Becauſe, when I was tired of playing with it, I could eat it.

Helm.

Nay, if you be like the cannibals, Miſs, I had beſt ſheer off—tho', I believe you'd find me very hard of digeſtion.

Flora.

Very likely, but I ſhan't try.

Helm.

However, Miſs, all this is little to the purpoſe.

Flora.

Ay, indeed, and ſo it is ſure enough—So, as you have nothing more to ſay, I think I had beſt leave you to yourſelf.

Helm.
[47]

Avaſt, avaſt!—If you are for running a-head ſo, I muſt bring you to your bearings.

Flora.

Ah, but you can't tho', for I never will bear you.

Helm.

Lookee, d'ye ſee, Miſs, I came hither to have ſome ſerious diſcourſe with you, becauſe as how I intended to have meſs'd with you for life, but if ſo be you can't ſteer a ſteady courſe without all this tacking, why, it will be a thing impoſſible to grapple with you for half a glaſs together.

Flora.

Well, then, I will ſpeak my mind, tho' Mama ſhou'd lock me up for it—I deteſt the ſight of you—if you were as handſome as you are ugly, and as young as you are old, yet ſtill I ſhou'd hate you—My heart is ſet upon Mr. Woodford, and have him I will, tho' I creep through an iron grate, or jump out of a garret window to him.

[Exit.
Helm.

So! ſhe has ſlipt her anchor, and run out to ſea; while I am all aground here, and muſt wait for a ſpring tide to ſet me afloat again.

Enter Lady YOUNGLOVE and SEDLEY.
Lady Young.

Well, Mr. Sedley, your arguments are ſo perſuaſive, there's no reſiſting them—I conſent then, that both marriages be celebrated this evening.

Sedley.

And, to free you from any jealouſy of Miſs Bloomer, I requeſt, Madam, that ſhe may be invited as a witneſs, on this joyful occaſion.

Lady Young.

I vow, that's cruel in you, beſides, poor Lady! it will look like inſult in me—But, bleſs me, Captain, where's the child gone to?

Helm.

Right a head, yonder, ſailing in the wind's eye.

Sedley.

Well, Captain, what ſucceſs?

Helm.

Succeſs!—Why, d'ye ſee, I believe I have ſteer'd by a wrong chart, and mayhap, if I don't tack about, I may chance to be wreck'd upon the ſhallows.

Lady Young.

Oh, dear Captain, von muſt not mind [48]her—She's young and ignorant of her good—I was juſt ſo [...] her age, but ſhe'll know better before long.

Helm.

Why, to be ſure, Widow, I do think ſhe [...] a little teaching, and will lay a wager, ſhe does not know a cat from a capſtan—But, no matter for that,—all in good time—patience is a good ſtream anchor—If I thought I ſtood fair for the harbour of her good-will, why, 'tis not a little ſqually weather, or variation of the wind, ſhould hinder [...] from venturing.

Sedley.

I'll enſure your ſuccessing—My Lady and I have entirely ſettled matters—At our return in the evening, every thing is to be finally concluded—You'll have your writings ready.

Helm.

Ay, ay, I can produce the log-book of my eſtate at a minute's warning.

Sedley.

And, Captain, I think the greateſt puniſhment you can inflict on your nephew for his diſobedience, will be to oblige him to be a ſpectator of the ceremony.

Helm.

Right, my Boy, ſo it will.

Enter SERVANT.
Serv.

A letter for Mr. Sedley.

[Exit.
Sedley.

For me!—With your leave, my Lady.—

(Reads.)
Sir,

—If there remains the leaſt ſpark of tenderneſs in your boſom for Miſs Bloomer, fly to extricate her from an affair that threatens the deſtruction of her peace and happineſs—There is no time to be loſs—Come to my Houſe directly, and I'll inform you of particulars.

F. BELGROVE.
Sedley.

Miſs Bloomer!—Her very name has raiſed a tumult in my ſoul!

(aſide.)
Lady Young.

Dear Mr. Sedley, you ſeem diſcompoſed—

Sedley.

No, Madam, perfectly eaſy.

Lady Young.

Sure no unlucky accident has happened to diſturb our happineſs?

Sedley.
[49]

No, Madam, none.

Lady Young.

I'm afraid there has,—You had better ſtay here till every thing is over.

[Taking him by the hold.
Sedley.

Fulſome old Witch!

(aſide)

Importance, Madam, ſome urgent buſineſs demands me for a little time—I ſhall not ſtav long.

[Going.
Lady Young.

Mr. Sedley—And may I depend upon you?

Sedley.

Undoubtedly, Madam.

[Still Going.
Lady Young.

Stay, Mr. Sealey—Perhaps, this is ſome affair with a lady, and—

Sedley.

Don't be uneaſy, Madam,—Was there ever an [...] ſo provoking

(aſide.)

Captain, you'll excuſe me, I'll ſend up your ſervant.

Lady Young.

[...] ſtay, another word—Had not I better [...] then—

Sedley.

Pray, Madam, ſtay till I come back, and then—your may go to Jamaica, if you pleaſe.

(aſide.
[Exit.
Lady Young.

Oh, the ſweet creature!—I wiſh this affair was over—If I ſhould be diſappointed now—Well, I ſhan't have a moment's comfort, till I have abſolutely ſecured him mine.

[Exit.
Helm.

And, noint my block, if ever you'll let him have a moment's comfort afterwards.

Enter SWAB, drunk, ſinging.

Steady, boys, ſteady!

Helm.

Hey!—Avaſt!—What's here?

Swab.

All's ſafe—all's ſafe, your honour—

(hiccups)

ſteady, ſteady's the word—No [...]ear of b [...]ging, [...] Swab keeps a dead reckoning.

Helm.

You lubberly dog! how came you in this trim?

Swab.

No matter—All's ſafe—I've been toſſing the Can to Mrs. Erippery's health—And now, if your worſhip's gl [...]y vill turn out, we will ſcud homewards with a [...] gale.

Helm.
[50]

You deſerve to be laſh'd to the gangway, you drunken water-ſpout, and if I come along ſide of you, I'll be ſoon foul of your forelights.

Swab.

Bleſs you precious limbs, no, no, noble Captain, ſafe's the word, ſafe's the word—I'm the man will ſtand by you, while I have a ſtick ſtanding, or can carry a rag of canvaſs—So, follow in my wake, as ſoon as you pleaſe.

[Exit ſinging.
Helm.

Sheer off—do—The dog knows I regard him for old acquantance ſake,—To be ſure, a better ſailor never ſtep'd upon forecaſtle—He has work'd many a hard gale, and never flinched—ah! 'tis ſuch brave fellows as he, that man our fleets, and ſhew our topſails to the enemy—Ay, ay, Old England may well ſay, that a Britiſh ſeaman, is one of the nobieſt characters, the word can boaſt of.

[Exit.
End of the Third Act.

ACT IV.

[51]
SCENE, Miſs BELGROVE'S.
Enter Miſs BELGROVE and SEDLEY.
Sedley.

I Own to you, Miſs Belgrove, that, ſo far from being indifferent about Miſs Bloomer, my heart never was more devoted to her, than at preſent—In vain, my reaſon ſhews the folly of my conduct, love has got poſſeſſion of my ſoul with ſuch abſolute dominion, that every other paſſion bows to its reſiſtleſs ſway.

Miſs Belg.

Certainly, you Lovers, are the moſt inconſiſtent ſet of beings in the world—Abſolute contradictions—You love and hate, ſwear and forſwear, whine and rage;—Reſolve one moment, and break it the next—Tear the falſe image from your hearts this hour, and worſhip it with the groſſeſt adulation the following one.

Sedley.

I confeſs it, Madam, yet in me you'll not behold ſuch a Proteus—I can love, without being blind.

Miſs Belg.

Impoſſible, for all lovers are blind, at leaſt to the faults of their miſtreſſes—But, no more of this—Take my word for it, Miſs Bloomer is deſerving of your beſt wiſhes, and, tho' I cannot entirely defend the ſprightly, tho' ſometimes, imprudent ſallies of my fair friend; yet, I think them ſo venially agreeable, that they almoſt carry their excuſe in the commiſſion.

Sedley.

And, yet, in the preſent caſe, 'tis certain ſhe encourages the addreſſes of ſome deſigning raſcal, who, probably wants to make a prey of her perſon and fortune.

Miſs Belg.
[52]

I own it looks like it—When I ſaw her this morning, ſhe hinted a new conqueſt of a Lord, and by the circumſtances, I ſuſpect Mrs. Faſhion of being the contriver of the whole deſign.

Sedley.

Have you ſeen Miſs Bloomer ſince you left Mrs. Faſhion's?

Miſs Belg.

No, I called at her houſe directly after, but ſhe was not at home, upon which, apprehending ſome bad conſequences, I thought the beſt thing I could do, would be to acquaint you, and requeſt your aſſiſtance.

Sedley.

You oblige me infinitely, Madam—I'll unravel this villainy, or—

Miſs Belg.

Stay, do nothing unadviſedly—Let me go again to Miſs Bloomer's, and endeavour to learn whether ſhe has ſeen this impoſtor.

Sedley.

You are right, Madam—But, pray, don't drop a hint of your ſuſpicions—Conviction will come ſtronger, when attended with danger, and open detection—Meanwhile, I'll juſt ſtep home, and be back time enought for your return.

[Exit.
Miſs Belg.

Poor Gentleman!—Oh, Lud! what fools this Love makes of the wiſeſt of us—I ſwear, if the whimſical, inconſiſtent urchin, dare have the aſſurance to attack me, I'd muſter up all my courage, and—and—run away from him, as faſt as I could.

[Exit.
SCENE, Miſs BLOOMER'S.
Enter Miſs BLOOMER, and Mrs. FASHION.
Mrs. Faſh.

Oh, my dear Lady! what an unfortunate woman am I?

Miſs Bloom.

Bleſs me! what new matter for wonder?—Have you made another miſtake?

Faſh.

Surely, I was born to be unhappy!

Miſs Bloom.

I can't help ſaying, you deſerve it—The next time I call at your houſe, you ſhall ſuffer me to be affronted in the manner I was laſt.

Faſh.
[53]

You have ample revenge, I can aſſure you—Oh, I ſhall never forgive myſelf, no, not if I was to live a thouſand years, for being acceſſary to the death of ſo ſweet, ſo lovely, ſo good-natured a gentleman.

Miſs Bloom.

Death! whoſe death?

Faſh.

And yet, alas! I am innocent—'Tis thoſe bright eyes alone, that have done all this miſchief.

Miſs Bloom.

Oh, if that be all, I'll readily undertake to cure all the evil done by them.

Faſh.

No, no, he's too far gone to cure—He's a dying man.

Miſs Bloom.

Dying!—Who in the name of wonder is dying?

Faſh.

Lord Flamwell—No ſooner had you left the houſe, than, ſeiz'd with a fit of deſpair, he ſhut himſelf up in his chamber, and—

Miſs Bloom.

Rayed like a madman, then, when he was tired—let himſelf out again.

Faſh.

How can you be ſo barbarous!—But mark the conſequences—He had ſearce been a quarter of an hour there, when we were alarmed with the groans of a dying perſon, and forcing the door open, found him weltring in his blood.

Miſs Bloom.

Oh, heavens! is it true?

Faſh.

A ſurgeon was immediately ſent for, but on examination, he declared the wound mortal, and that nothing could ſave his life.

Miſs Bloom.

I am petrified with horror!

Faſh.

Oh! oh! oh!

(crying)

that ever I ſhould live to ſee this day!—The ſweet youth!—I loved him, as if he had been my own ſon!—What will his family ſay to me?—Oh! oh! oh! oh!

Miſs Bloom.

But, are there no hopes of his recovery?

Faſh.

No, not the leaſt—He can't live two hours!

Miſs Bloom.

Poor gentleman!—I ſincerely pity him.

Faſh.
[54]

Ah! what ſignifies pity—If you would make him ſome amends for your cruelty, and condeſcend to viſit him directly—

Miſs Bloom.

I viſit him!

Faſh.

Yes—conſider can you be ſo hard-hearted as refuſe him the only conſolation he can receive in his laſt moments?

Miſs Bloom.

You do not ſurely adviſe me to it.

Faſh.

From my ſoul I do—Dear Mrs. Faſhion, ſaid he, in faltering accents—Go to the unrelenting fair one, tell her, I die the victim of her obduracy—True, I was not worthy of aſpiring to ſuch excellence—But, if ſhe will deign once more to look upon me, I'll implore her forgiveneſs, and, as a ſmall atonement for my folly and preſumption, requeſt her acceptance of my fortune—That, though ſhe could not love me living, ſhe may compaſſionate my memory.

Miſs Bloom.

His generoſity affects me—I heartily with he may recover, but beg leave to decline his offer.

Faſh.

Really, Miſs, I did not think you could have been ſo ungrateſul—What harm can there be in viſiting a dying man?

Miſs Bloom.

I am abore ſuſpecting any harm, but ſcorn to take advantage of his weakneſs for me.

Faſh.

'Tis no advantage—What do his friends value the few thouſands he can beſtow?—Come, I muſt perſuade you to accept them.

Miſs Bloom.

Indeed, Mrs. Faſhion, though I am far from being void of humanity, yet upon this occaſion you muſt excuſe me; you may aſſure him, that, if wiſnes—

Faſh.

No, no,—In all probability, he will not be alive in an hour's time—The very ſight of you wou'd ſatisfy him, and then he would die contented.

Miſs Bloom.

What ſhall I do?—

Faſh.

Nay, don't heſitate at performing a charitable action.

Miſs Bloom.
[55]

Well, well—You have perſuaded me.

Faſh.

Ah, you are a ſweet, good Lady, and I hope will be rewarded for your tenderneſs—Then, you promiſe to come immediately?

Miſs Bloom.

I do.

Faſh.

Bleſſings on that complying countenance!—Could I but live to ſee you married to my wiſh, I ſhould then be a happy woman!

[Exit.
Miſs Bloom.

So! ſo!—Theſe eyes of mine will be brought in guilty of murder!—Well! I am certainly an unaccountable mortal—Though my heart feels the moſt delicate touches of ſenſibility, yet, this love of admiration hurries me, unthinkingly, into a thouſand errors—Poſitively, I will reform—Ay, but how?—Why, marry—Oh, lud, the cure would be worſe than the diſeaſe—And yet, was Sedley my doctor, I think he cou'd qualify the bitter portion—In [...], I'm abſolutely determined—on—what? To be as good as I can.

[Exit.
SCENE, Lady YOUNGLOVE'S.
Enter FLORA, WOODFORD, and FRIPPERY.
Woodf.

Talk not of danger, my ſweet girl! who could be ſeparated from you ſo long, and not purchaſe ſuch precious moments at any riſque?

Flora.

O dear! what a bounce my heart gave when I ſaw you—I'm frightened out of my wits at your raſhneſs—If my Mamma catches us, we are undone for ever.

Frip.

You need not fear, Miſs, your Mamma's in too great a concatenation herſelf, tomind you; and ſhe has ſent all the ſervants out, about one fribalous thing, or other—However, to make ſure, I'll ſtand centry myſelf for you, ſo make good uſe of your time, you young rogues.

[Exit.
Woodf.

My impatience would not let me wait the ſucceſs of a ſcheme I had concerted with Sedley, this [56]morning; I was reſolved to ſee you, ſo made uſe of my key of the gate at the end of the lane, to let myſelf into the garden, from whence I ſlipt up the back ſtairs.

Flora.

You are too ventureſome, yet, I'm glad you are come to my relief—My Mamma inſiſts poſitively upon my marrying your Uncle to-night.

Woodf.

I know it, my angel, but we will diſappoint her, if you'll conſent to let me convey you to a place where we may be united beyond the power of ſeparation.

Flora.

I would run any hazard to avoid ſo hateful a union—And, yet, Woodford, ſhould you behave unkindly to me, when I'm under your protection, it would break my heart.

Woodf.

He muſt be a villain indeed, who could wrong ſuch innocence—No, rely upon my truth and honour—Let me but lead you from hence, now we have this favourable opportunity, and before we are miſſed, I hope we ſhall be far enough out of the reach of a purſuit.

Flora.

With all my heart—For, to confeſs the truth, I ſhould like to be run away with into Scotland above all things—O lud! it will be ſo pleaſant, ſo ſpirited, ſo faſhionable, and make ſuch a noiſe in the world!—Why, 'tis the very thing I have been wiſhing for, ever ſince I thought of marriage.

Woodf.

I am happy to find you ſo readily approve of it.

Flora.

O dear! there is nothing gives a girl the air of conſequence an elopement does—To have one's name bandied about in all the newſpapers in the kingdom, with "We hear, that yeſterday morning, the only daughter of Lady Younglove eloped with a young gentleman of family, and great expectations—They were immediately purſued by the young Lady's relations, out in vain—The guardian powers of love and beauty had taken them under their [57]protection—Phaeton lent them his chariot, Cupid was the winged Charioteer, and Hymen on the oppoſite banks of the Tweed, with open arms, welcomed them into the dominions of joy and happineſs!"

Woodf.

My charming girl!—How your words animate me—I hope the event will prove equal to our moſt ſanguine expectations—But, let us not waſte the precious moments—Come, and—

Flora.

Stay, ſtay, not ſo haſty—Let me deſcend a little from my heroics to the level of common ſenſe—Stop here a few moments, while I juſt ſtep up ſtairs for ſome of my beſt cloaths.

Woodf.

No, no, my dear, we ſhall have no occaſion for them.

Flora.

Ah, but I'm afraid we ſhall tho'—And if I can ſlip into my mamma's cloſet, I'll ſteal ſome of her jewels out.

Woodf.

Not for the world—You are the only jewel I wiſh to poſſeſs—Let us deal honourably, and truſt to her generoſity for the future.

Flora.

Then I'm afraid you'll truſt to a broken reed.

Woodf.

No matter, my love, we will put it to the teſt—I am ſenſible of the great hazard we both run by this precipitate ſtep, which nothing, but the fear of loſing you for ever, could urge me to—You, perhaps, have not conſidered it ſo ſeriouſly.

Flora.

Why no, truly, I ſeldom conſider about the matter—Reflection I know, will come time enough afterwards.

Woodf.

Then can you, my roſe-bud, in caſe your mamma is not reconciled to us, relinquiſh all hopes of a coach, with every other attendant on polite life, and be content to live in a cottage with love and me?

Flora.

I muſt own, that I ſhould like a coach prodigiouſly, but then I like you better—And if grandeur is only to be purchaſed at the expence of happineſs, [58]a ſig for it, and every other fine thing—Do you continue but to love me, and I ſhall be as happy as the day is long.

Woodf.

My generous girl! whilſt I have life, it ſhall be my ſtudy ro repay ſuch obligations—Come, let us go down the back ſtairs, and proceed to Sedley's, where I have a chaiſe waiting for us.

Enter FRIPPERY.
Frip.

Oh, undone! undone!—Here's your uncle, Sir Whiffling Trifle, and a French gentleman along with him, coming up ſtairs.

Woodf.

Zounds! how unfortunate!

Frip.

Oh, quite misfortunate indeed!

Flora.

O, dear! what will become of us?

Woodf.

Is there no place to hide me in?

Frip.

O none, Sir, except you creep up the chimney, and ſo on to the top of the next houſe.

Woodf.

Well, I am reſolved—Frippery, leave the room directly.

Frip.

Yes, Sir, O lud, O lud!

[Exit.
Woodf. (taking hold of Flora)

Don't be alarmed, my dear,—follow me, and fear nothing.

Enter Sir WHIFFLING, ſpeaking to FINESSE.

So, Monſieur Fineſſe, you really think my Muſeum contains more curioſities than—Hey, Mr. Woodford! in the name of all that's wonderful, what brought you here?

Woodf.

A deſign, Sir Whiffling, which your coming has unluckily interrupted, though not prevented—Let me beg of you therefore, to entertain Monſieur Fineſſe with the remainder of your invaluable curioſities, while I attend your niece down ſtairs.

Sir Whif.

I am aſtoniſhed!—Hold, hold, Sir! you may go when, and where you pleaſe, but my niece ſhall not ſtir.

Woodf. (pulling out a piſtol)
[59]

You ſee, Sir Whiffling, all reſiſtance is in vain.

Sir Whif.

Help! murder! help!

Woodf.

Not ſo loud, as you value your life.

Sir Whif.

For pity's ſake, Monſieur, draw and aſſiſt me.

Fin.

Pardonnez moy, Monſieur, I beg to be excuſe.

Woodf. (Drawing towards the door with Flora)

Lookee, Sir Whiffling, if you offer to moleſt me before I'm down ſtairs, and out of doors, the conſequences may be fatal—Remember that caution as you regard your ſafety.

[Exit with Flora.
After they have ſtood ſome time looking at each other.
Sir Whif.

Do you think they are down ſtairs yet?

Fin.

No, Monſieur, wait a leatle bit longer.

Sir Whif.

Draw your ſword, and ſee if they be gone.

Fin.

To oblige you, I vill draw my ſword, but, je vous demande pardon, I have more politeſſe dan to go before in your own houſe.

Sir Whif.

Huſh!—I believe we may venture now—Come, follow me then.

Fin.

Oui, Monſieur, I ſhall take de great care not to go firſt.

[Exeunt, crying help! murder! help!
SCENE Mrs. FASHION'S.
Enter Miſs BLOOMER, and Mrs. FASHION.
Faſh.

My dear Lady, I have impatiently expected you.

Miſs Bloom.

How does his Lordſhip?

Faſh.

Juſt alive, that's all.

Miſs Bloom.

Then there's no occaſion for my diſturbing him.

Faſh.

The greateſt in the world—He cannot die in peace till he has ſeen you.

Miſs Bloom.
[60]

I wiſh our interview was over—You'll be ſure to ſtay all the time in the room with me.

Faſh.

Certainly—Nay, don't heſitate but let me lead you to him.

[Exeunt.
SCENE changes, diſcovers a room darkened. FLAMWELL lying on a couch.
Enter Mrs. FASHION, and Miſs BLOOMER.
Faſh (ſoftly)

My Lord!—My Lord!—'Tis all over—My Lord!

Flam.

Oh!—diſturb me not—let me expire in quiet—'Tis not my charmer's voice.

Faſh.

Still raving on you.—My ſweet Lord, compoſe yourſelf—I have brought Miſs Bloomer to take a laſt farewell.

Flam. (a little raiſing himſelf)

I am very faint—Ah, Madam, would I had ſtrength to thank you for this favour!

Miſs Bloom.

Be compoſed, my Lord—I am heartily ſorry for your misfortune, and that I was the innocent occaſion of it.

Flam.

I bleſs the hour, ſince it has procured me this ſatisfaction—I am weak with the loſs of blood—Might I intreat you to come a little nearer—

Faſh.

Do, my dear Miſs Bloomer, ſit down here—His Lordſhip cannot ſpeak loud.

(She ſits nigh the couch)
Flam.

I have but few moments to ſpare—On that table, Madam, lies my will, properly atteſted—In it you will find the reſpect I have entertained for you.

Miſs Bloom.

Pray, my Lord, excuſe me, and give it to thoſe who better deſerve it.

Faſh.

By my faith, he will not, ſo no more words.

Flam.

I have but one requeſt to make, and then—I die compoſed.

Miſs Bloom.

Name it, my Lord,

Flam.
[61]

That you might be legally mine, and—

Miſs Bloom.

My lord!

Flam.

And after my death, without interruption, quietly to enjoy my title as well as fortune.

Miſs Bloom.

I am greatly obliged to your Lordſhip, but give me leave poſitively, to decline both.

Faſh.

Nay, now, Miſs Bloomer, I really think you are very wrong—Conſider, what an advantage it will be to you.

Miſs Bloom.

I deſpiſe advantages obtained in ſuch a manner.

Faſh.

Indeed, you are too delicate—It will be a public and honourable teſtimony of his love and gratitude.

Miſs Bloom.

I deſire no ſuch teſtimonies, and, if that was your deſign, you'll find you've loſt your aim.

[Going.
Faſh. (Stopping her)

Can you refuſe ſuch a trifling, momentary ſatisfaction to a man who is juſt leaving the world?

Miſs Bloom.

Can you be ſo inhuman, to load a man juſt leaving the world, with ſuch a weight as matrimony?

Faſh.

Come, all this is feigned—You muſt and ſhall be Lady Flamwell—the Chaplain is waiting without—I'll call him in, and he'll ſoon run over the words—Here, Mr. Ty'em,—walk in, walk in!

[Exit.
Miſs Bloom.

Mrs. Faſhion!—Stay!—What do you mean by uſing me thus?—I'll leave your houſe inſtantly.

Enter TY'EM.
Ty'em.

Are the parties ready?

Miſs Bloom.

No, Sir—Have a care what you are about—If you dare proceed a ſtep further in this affair, you ſhall be made a public example of.

Flam.
[62]

My gentle Lady, can you ſuffer me to die in deſpair?

Miſs Bloom.

My ungentle Lord! I am not to be trick'd in this manner—Ceaſe your idle ſolicitations.

Flam.

Not but with my life—Your cruelty has given me new vigor

(Riſing from his couch)

And thus I ſeize my happineſs.

Miſs Bloom.

Hold off!—What! have I been deceiv'd!—enſnar'd!—'Tis plain—Villain!—who are you?

Flam.

A man, Madam, who is reſolved to make a proper uſe of this advantage—Come, Madam, you have no time for deliberation—Either this moment let me make you honourably mine, or—neceſſity will compel me to make uſe of force to oblige you.

Miſs Bloom.

Monſter! I deteſt you, and deſpiſe your threats!—Dare not for your life, Sir, to bar my way.

(To Ty'em.)
Ty'em.

Verily, you are righteouſly joined together, and I am ready to affirm, that the ceremony is performed.

Miſs Bloom.

How am I beſet!

Flam. (taking hold of her)

You muſt comply—There is no poſſibility of eſcaping.

Miſs Bloom.

Help! murder! help!

Flam.

'Tis all in vain.

(Struggling with her)
Miſs Bloom.

Help! help! for heaven's ſake!

Door broke open—Enter SEDLEY, WOODFORD, CONSTABLE, and SERVANTS. They ſecure FLAMWELL and TY'EM.
Sedley.

Hold, miſcreants! or this moment is your laſt.

Woodf.

Look to the Lady, ſhe faints—

Confr.

Look to the gentleman here, firſt—He ſeems to be in the worſt condition.

Sedley.

What a ſcene of horror!—Dear Woodford, [63]do you ſecure that wicked woman without, while I aſſiſt Miſs Bloomer.

Woodf.

I will, and as I ſhall take your advice in reſtoring Flora to her mother, will leave Mrs. Faſhion in the hands of theſe worthy gentlemen, and wait at your houſe for your return.

[Exit.
Miſs Bloom.

O, Sedley! is it to you that I am indebted for this providential reſcue?—'Tis doubly, doubly welcome.

Sedley.

I am ſorry, Madam, that I cannot return the compliment—Mr. Conſtable, conduct theſe villains to your own houſe, till they are properly examined.

Con.

Yes, Sir—Come along, my lads, don't be ſo down-hearted—You are not ſo bad now as you will be, that's ſome comfort—The gallows, you know, never can come out of ſeaſon to you, and ſo, better late than never.

Flam.

O, my curſt fortune!—Yes, now I ſee I ſhall cut a diſtinguiſhing figure in the world!

[Exeunt Conſtable, Flamwell, and Servants.
Sedley.

When we laſt parted, Miſs Bloomer, little did I expect we ſhould have met in ſuch a manner—Give me leave to aſk, what am I to judge from your appearance here?

Miſs Bloom.

The truth—that I was innocently decoyed here, by the wicked woman who keeps this houſe.

Sedley.

Fain, fain would I believe ſo, did not other parts of your conduct contradict it.

Miſs Bloom.

My conduct, Sir, though faulty in this particular, is in every other reſpect irreproachable.

Sedley.

I ſhould be happy indeed, Madam, if you could prove it.

Miſs Bloom.

Surprizing!—What right have you, Sir, to call my actions in queſtion?

Sedley.

None, Madam, none—The buſy world has done it for you.

Miſs Bloom.
[64]

Know, Sir, I rely on my own integrity, and deſpiſe what you or the world can ſay of me.

Sedley.

It too plainly appears, Madam, that you have not the leaſt regard for either.

Miſs Bloom.

Good heavens! but I will be calm—I ſee your artifice, you poorly ſeek an excuſe for your own inconſtancy—The oaths, the vows, the ſighs you ſo long offered up to me, are now transferred to a more amiable, and deſerving object—Lady Younglove, Sir, has ſent me an invitation of the kindeſt nature—

Sedley.

I know it, Madam—Too long have I dangled in the train of a Coquette, but I am at laſt convinced, that the levity of your conduct, forbids me ever to hope the leaſt happineſs, with a woman of your gaiety.

Miſs Bloom.

Burſt, burſt, ſwelling boſom, ere I give you vent.

(aſide)

O, Sir, you are convinced at laſt—'Tis very well, Sir,—I am ſatisfied—perfectly ſatisfied—Then you give me up for ever.

Sedley.

For ever, Madam, by heaven!

Miſs Bloom.

Cruel, ungenerous, Sedley!—What have I done to deſerve this inſult?—eſpecially from you, who of all men, I am leaſt able to bear it from.

[Weeps.
Sedley.

Tears! my heart can hold no longer—Madam, Miſs Bloomer!—Heaven is my witneſs, I bleed to wound you thus—I love you! I adore you!—Had I millions they ſhould be yours—But, what can I ſay?—Thus circumſtanced, I am compelled, dear as I love, to bid you eternally farewell—Yet, though I am wretched, compleatly wretched, may the guardian powers of love and innocence, wait on your footſteps, ſhadow you with their wings, and conduct you to that happineſs you have deprived me of.

[Going.
Miſs Bloom.

Stay, raſh man, ſtay—My pride forbids [65]me to ſtoop to a vindication—Yet, my weakneſs confeſſes, that had it not been for your preſent behaviour, I ſhould have preferred you before all the men I ever ſaw—'Till this moment I knew not half the power you had over me—Yes, cruel Sedley, enjoy that triumph, but at the ſame time know, I will, if poſſible, tear your image from my breaſt, and bury myſelf where I may never hear your name mentioned.

[Going.
Sedley.

Hold, my charming angel!—By heaven you ſhall not go—Thus on my knees

(Kneeling)

let me intreat for pardon—Forgive the man, who doats on you to diſtraction, who lives but in your ſmiles—Abhorred be my tongue for thus wantonly wounding your ſenſibility, and uttering what my heart diſclaims.

Miſs Bloom.

I am aſtoniſhed!—And, are you really not engaged to Lady Younglove?

Sedley.

By all the powers of love, I am not, nor ever will be—'Twas all an artifice, to ſerve my friend, and try the ſtrength of your affection—If you refuſe my hand, never ſhall it be the lifeleſs property of another.

Miſs Bloom.

Generous man! I am not worthy of you!—No, Sedley, virtues like yours deſerve infinitely more than I am able to beſtow.

Sedley.

Say not ſo, my beauteous girl!—You muſt, you ſhall be mine—My happineſs is centered in you—Bleſt be the fortunate accident that thus luckily revealed I was not indifferent to you.

Miſs Bloom.

And doubly bleſt let it be, ſince it has opened my eyes, and ſhewn me the glaring impropriety of my former conduct—What a dreadful precipice have I eſcaped!—How have I—But, my future life beſt ſhall ſpeak my ſenſe of the paſt—Here let me ſeriouſly renounce all former follies—Never from this hour, will I be guilty of them—You have at laſt effectually compleated the arduous [66]taſk you ſo long purſued—REFORMED A COQUETTE—And now, if you dare—take her for your pains.

Sedley. (Embracing her)

O tranſport inexprſſible!—Am I at laſt rewarded!

Enter Miſs BELGROVE.
Miſs Belg.

Hey-day! may I believe my eyes!—Here's a change indeed!—Embraching!

Miſs Bloom.

O, my dear girl! I am glad you are come.

Miſs Belg.

Really, ſo am I.—Your humble ſervant, Mr. Proteus, I am pleaſed to find you in ſuch ſpirits—Not an hour ago, you was the reſolute determined hero—No, no, Madam, I can love without being blind.

Sedley.

True, Madam, and without being entirely ſo; where could I ſix, but on ſo deſerving an object? You ſeem ſurprized: let us adjourn to Lady Younglove's, and in our way thither, I'll let you into my whole deſign.

Miſs Bloom.

Here, take my hand—My heart has not been ſo much at eaſe a long time—And, if girls were but wiſe enough to conſult their own happineſs, inſtead of their triſling with fools and coxcombs, they would ſeek for it where it can only be found—In the arms of men of ſenſe, and virtue.

[Exeunt.
End of the Fourth Act.

ACT V.

[67]
SCENE, Lady YOUNGLOVE'S.
Enter FLORA, and FRIPPERY.
Frip.

UPON my word, Miſs, this is the moſt oddeſt affair I was ever extricated in during the whole current of my life—After getting ſo artificially off as you did, for Mr. Sedley to diſſuade your lovyer to return you to your mamma again, inſtead of flouriſhing away to Scotland without redemption—Well! I own its above my compacity to find out.

Flora.

Ay, or mine either—I'm ſure, I never looked ſo fooliſh in all my life, as when I found we were not to be married.

Frip.

And well you might, Miſs, to have all your ſchemes confiſticated in ſuch a manner.

Flora.

And then, Frippery, to be diſappointed of ſuch a delightful jaunt, and expoſed to the ridicule of all one's acquaintance—'Tis, enough to make me cry my eyes out.

Frip.

Ay, my dear, ſo it is—And, pray, what end did he impoſe by this wiſe ſcheme?

Flora.

Why, as by ſuch a precipitate ſtep we ſhould entirely forfeit the favour of his uncle, and my mamma, without the leaſt chance of recovery, he perſuaded Woodford to wait the iſſue of a ſcheme which he is going to execute immediately—For my part, if it does ſucceed, I ſhall loſe half the pleaſure I expected in being married in Scotland.

Frip.

You are right, Miſs, and ſpeak the ſenſations of moſt of the girls who go there—Why, I might have been married three years ago to Mr. Scraper, Lord Supple's footman, but that we could not raiſe [68]money enough between us to get there, and I was determined never to follow the vulgar faſhion, of being aſked in church.

Enter Lady YOUNGLOVE.
Lady Young.

So, my pretty runaway Miſs! I have you ſafe once more, thanks to Mr. Sedley, and ſhall take care to keep you ſo.

Flora.

Perhaps you may be miſtaken

(aſide)

It is mighty well, mamma, but you would not like to be ſerved ſo yourſelf.

Lady Young.

Go, huſſey, you are a pert ſpoiled girl—Now, Frippery, after this laſt generous act of Mr. Sedley's, I think, I can't have the leaſt doubt of his ſincerity, truth, and tenderneſs.

Frip.

Doubt, Madam! it would be downright fidelity even to inſpect him of ſuch a thing.

Lady Young.

How tediouſly the lazy minutes drawl, to a heart impatient of its bliſs like mine!—Frippery, do you think I am elegantly enough dreſſed for my bridal day?

Frip.

Elegant, my Lady!—Why, you are the very moral of gentility—Your new cork-rump becomes you mightily—And Mr. Friz, the hair-dreſſer, [...] your head is now at leaſt half a foot higher [...] the handſome Ducheſs's.

Lady Young.

I am glad of it—O, the dear, ſweet [...]!—He promiſed to be here about this time—I [...] he was come—My patience is almoſt exhauſted, [...] I tremble left any accident ſhould rob me of my expected happineſs.

Flora.

If ſhe ſhould be diſappointed now.

(aſide)
Frip.

I warrant your Ladyſhip need not fear—No, no, Mr. Sedley is too much of a gentleman to refuſe you any thing.

Enter SEDLEY, Captain HELM, Miſs BLOOMER, WOODFORD, and SWAB.
Sedley.

My beauteous widow!

(Embracing)
Lady Young.
[69]

My long expected love!

Flora.

I wiſh my mamma would not be quite ſo fond before company.

[aſide
Sedley.

My dear Lady, I have been obliged to treſpaſs on your patience, in order to bring theſe witneſſes of my happineſs.

Helm.

Ay, ay, widow, we have crowded all the ſail we could to be in at the firſt broadſide, and now, as we all ſeem in the line, ſuppoſe we hoiſt the ſignal for engaging?

Lady Young.

With all my heart, Captain, the ſooner, the better.

Helm.

Bravely ſpoken, and I'll anſwer, that you'll not be the firſt to cry out quarter.

Lady Young.

Oh, Miſs Bloomer! I am happy to ſee you—My dear, this is an unexpected favour—Well, now, after your known partiality for Sedley, can you forgive his infidelity to you?—I proteſt it gives me pain to rob you of ſuch a ſweet man.

Miſs Bloom.

Your Ladyſhip is too good—I ſhould be vain indeed, were I to pretend to diſpute a heart with one of your Ladyſhip's age and experience.

Lady Young.

Ha! ha! ha! very pleaſant—And yet, I really wonder, what the men can ſee in me ſo to follow and admire—Eſpecially, when they ſacrifice ſuch youth and beauty—But, I hope no bad conſequences will follow your diſappointment—No hanging, or drowning—O lud! I poſitively will give up all thoughts of him, ſooner than be the death of any perſon.

Sedley.

What a malicious devil.

(aſide)

I hope, Madam, I have now removed every ſhadow of doubt which your Ladyſhip might have entertained of my ſincerity.

Lady Young.

Entirely, Sir, entirely—And, in order to convince the world of my diſintereſted love for ſo deſerving an object—Previous to the ceremony, which is to make me happy for ever—there [70]is a deed of gift—

(Preſenting it to Sedley)

—properly atteſted, of half my fortune at preſent, and, the other half at my death.

Sedley.

My dear Lady, what can I ſay to ſuch unbounded, ſuch unmerited proofs of your goodneſs?

Helm.

Say! zounds, man, ſay nothing—The widow had rather be thanked in deed than in word.

Sedley.

I am afraid, Captain, it is not in my power to pleaſe the Lady either way.

Lady Young.

O fie, Mr. Sedley, don't think ſo—I aſſure you I am not the unreaſonable woman you take me for.

Sedley.

I am glad of it, Madam, as I muſt ſpeedily put you to the trial.

Lady Young.

I think, Sir, I can ſtand any trial you'll pleaſe to make.

Sedley.

I wiſh we may find it ſo, Madam—By your miſplaced, and with juſtice I may ſay, ridiculous inclination, my Lady, for I cannot call it love, you have been ſo far blindly infatuated, as to make me ſole maſter of your fortune without reſerve—

Lady Young.

How!—Am I awake?

Helm.

Faith, I believe not—But, there ſeems a ſtorm riſing that will quickly call all hands to work.

Flora.

Well! I declare this is charming!

Sedley.

I am above making an improper uſe of ſuch an advantage—I deſigned at firſt, but to ſerve my friend, and now my end is fully anſwered—Give me leave therefore, in the preſence of this good company, to reſtore theſe writings to their juſt owner.

[Delivers them to FLORA.
Lady Young.

Oh, I ſhall faint! this is too much, too much to bear!

[Sits.
Flora.

Poor mamma! So, it is indeed, to loſe both money and huſband—Sir, I have not words to thank you as I ought.

[To SEDLEY.
Lady Young.

Am I betrayed then!—You baſe deluder! villain!

Miſs Bloom.
[71]

Ha! ha! ha! I hope your Ladyſhip will forgive his infidelity to you—I proteſt it gives me pain to rob you of ſuch a ſweet man.

Lady Young.

Confuſion! are all my raviſhing dreams of happineſs come to this!—Oh, the inconſtancy of mankind! there's neither love, faith, truth, or honour amongſt them.

Miſs Bloom.

But, I hope, no bad conſquences will follow your diſappointment—No hanging, or drowning—O lud! I poſitively will give up all thoughts of him, ſooner than be the death of any perſon.

Sedley.

Come, my Lady, forgive this innocent artifice, and look upon me as your beſt friend—You might have fallen a dupe to ſome deſigning villain—who, taking advantage of your weakneſs, would have ruined your family, and entailed perpetual miſery on yourſelf.

Helm.

So! we are all run on a lee ſhore, here!—Why, widow, you have kept a deviliſh bad reckoning—But I thought how it would be—As for your generoſity, Mr. Sedley, in favour of my little cockboat, why, I heartily thank you—And, as ſoon as the parſon can tip us a cocket, we'll ſteer away for matrimony harbour, directly.

Flora.

I'm afraid, Captain, wind and tide are ſo much againſt you, that you'll hardly be able to reach the port this trip.

Helm.

How's this!—Do you refuſe to take convoy too?

Flora.

No, provided I chuſe my confort—I'm ſure, if I kept company with you, I ſhould ſoon be obliged to take you in tow.

Helm.

Whew!

(whiſtling)

Here's a freſh gale ſprung up!

Lady Young.

I think, Captain, you have kept a bad reckoning.

Flora.

And now, Woodford, thanks to Mr. Sedley's [72]generoſity, I have it in my power to manifeſt my love—Here, take my hand, my fortune's more than ſufficient to enable us to live happily, though not ſplendidly—But, were it not, be aſſured, I would chearfully prefer poverty and a cottage, with the object of my choice, before riches and the moſt ſplendid palace with the man I diſlike.

Sedley.

Right, Madam, the temple of Hymen was reared by virtue, and only occaſionally embelliſhed by Plutus.—Captain, I am ſure, if you ſeriouſly conſider every thing, you will ſoon be of the young Lady's mind.

Helm.

May-hap not, for when I am reſolved on doing any thing, I never think about the matter.

Woodf.

Dear uncle, make my happineſs complete by reſtoring me to your favour—Recollect what a cruel conſtraint you were putting upon both our inclinations.

Helm.

And, you young dog, do you recollect what a cruel conſtraint you are putting upon mine?

Sedley.

I know, Captain, you are a noble-ſpirited, worthy-hearted Briton—Only reflect, with ſuch a great diſparity of years and temper, what a ridiculous figure you muſt make united to ſo blooming a girl.

Flora.

Ay, for all the world, like David and Abiſhag, in our old tapeſtry hangings.

Sedley.

Come, be generous, and act like yourſelf—Fill up the marriage ſettlements with your nephew's name, inſtead of your own, and receive the thanks, nay, the bleſſings of the young couple, for ſo laudable an act.

Woodf.

Upon my knees, uncle, let me beg—

Helm.

Riſe, you land ſpaniel—When did you ever ſee a ſeaman in ſuch a poſture?—Had it been for a brother tar, why, I ſhould not have held council about it.

Lady Young.

Well! it is ſome comfort, to find others in the ſame ſituation with myſelf.

Helm.
[73]

So! after rigging myſelf out for a cruize to the unknown iſlands, my orders are countermanded, I am to be dock'd, and laid up for life, as unfit for ſervice.

Swab.

Why, an pleaſe your honour, I do think your works are too much damaged, to venture out to ſea again—You'd certainly founder in the firſt ſtorm.

Helm.

Do you think ſo, Swab?—Then let us tack about, and alter our courſe—Come hither, nephew, I forgive you what's paſt—You ſhall go maſter in my ſtead, and here are bills of freight and lading for the voyage—But, harkee, as you are a young ſeaman, take my advice—Don't crowd too much ſail, or you'll be apt to overſet.

Woodf.

Never fear, uncle, I'll ſteer by your direction—your goodneſs to me on this occaſion—

Helm.

No fair-weather ſpeeches, but mind your buſineſs—And, d'ye hear, boy, by way of encouragement to ſerve his Majeſty, you ſhall have a thouſand pounds bounty money for every young volunteer you produce, as ſoon as ever they are able to cry, Huzza! King George and his navy for ever—Ay, damme! tho' you ſhould have above the royal dozen!

Sedley.

There ſpoke the true ſpirit of a Britiſh ſeaman.

Helm.

What ſay you. Widow?—As we both have been a couple of ridiculous old fools, to make amends, will you join with me, and do the ſame?

Lady Young.

Do the ſame, Captain?—I did not rightly underſtand you—You have not, ſurely, any notion of paying your addreſſes to me?

(Croſſes over to him)
Helm.

To you!—Avaſt there, ſheer off——No, ſooner than be tack'd to ſuch a ſpit-fire, I'd turn a gun into my powder-room, and blow myſelf up.

Lady Young.
[74]

A monſter!—A ſavage bear!—Fit only for Greenland!

Helm.

Well! a Greenland bear is better than a Lapland witch, at any time.

Lady Young.

Come along, Frippery—The men have neither eyes, ears, or underſtanding!

[Exeunt Lady Young. and Frip.
Helm.

Ay, ay, let her have ſea-room enough, or ſhe'll run foul of ſome of you.

Swab.

Pleaſe your honour, ſince you are ſharing the prize-money, I hope you'll not be angry if I put in my claim?

Helm.

What wind blows now?

Swab.

A fair gale, your honour; if I can but preſs yon painter tender into ſervice.

Helm.

Oh, are you in that quarter?—Have you a mind to deſert your commander in diſtreſs?

Swab.

No, your honour, never while I have life—, ſhe ſeems a neat tight-ſailing thing, and her upper works are in ſuch nice order, that I ſhould like, of all things, to go maſter.

Helm.

But, hearkee, have you hail'd her yet, to know whether ſhe'd chuſe to take you on board?

Swab.

Why, no, your honour; I'm too good a ſeaman to launch out on ſo long a cruize without my commander's leave.

Helm.

Well, then, Swab, if that's the caſe, after her directly, and bring her too as ſoon as poſſible.

Swab.

I warrant your honour; to give a good account of her—He muſt ſtand many a hard broadſide that takes her from me.

[Exit.
Enter Miſs BELCROVE, Sir WHIFLING, and SPANGLE.
Helm.

Hey day! here's a Venetian galley, and a whole ſquadron of Turkiſh cruizers in full chace of her.

Miſs Bel.

True, Captain, I have been oblig'd to ran for it, and glad to find this harbour open.

Helm.
[75]

Say you ſo, then let me ſtand in—I'll ſoon make them tack about, and ſheer off.

Miſs Bel.

No occaſion, Captain, I'll ſtand my ground now, and face them—Well, good folks, I ſee by thoſe ſmiles that are ſeated on your countenances, that every thing is happily ſettled—I give you joy—I met theſe gentlemen in my way hither, they would not believe me, ſo are come to receive their diſmiſſion from your own lips.

Span.

Is this true, my dear girl, that you have the inhumanity to be the death of all my hopes?

Sir Whif.

And can you, Miſs Bloomer, behold my ſufferings without a touch of pity?

Miſs Bloom.

The time has been, gentlemen, when I could have play'd on your follies, and encouraged them with the higheſt pleaſure—At preſent, I am diſpoſed to be more ſerious—Therefore, in a word, I beg I may not be honoured with your addreſſes more, as you may reſt aſſured, that I never will give you, or any others, the leaſt encouragement.

Span.

And this, my dear, is your poſitive reſolution?

Miſs Bloom.

Poſitive.

Span.

Upon my ſoul, my dear, I am ſorry for your taſte—But to ſhew you how faſhionably eaſy I am, under my diſappointment—May elegance renounce me, if I ever aſk you again—So, ladies and gentlement, wiſhing you all happineſs, I have the honour, ſans ceremonie, to remain, till my lateſt moments, your moſt devoted humble ſervant.

[Exit, humming a tune.
Miſs Bloom.

Ha! ha! ha!—As to you, Sir Whifling, I hope your philoſophy will teach you to bear this event with equal reſignation.

Flora.

O, I'll anſwer for my uncle——Give him another antedeluvian cockle-ſhell, and he'll renounce the ſex for ever.

Sir Whif.
[76]

Not ſo pert, Miſs—Madam, your frankneſs charms me—I begin to perceive that I deſerve ridicule for the folly of my purſuits—But, to ſhew you, that, tho' I am old, I am not incorrigible, I'll from this moment bid adieu to all thoughts of love, and devote the remainder of my life to more noble ſtudies than either brickbats, cinders, or mutilated ſtatues.

[Exit.
Miſs Bloom.

Now, Belgrove, are not theſe genuine fruits of reformation?

Enter FINESSE. [On ſeeing Sedley and Miſs Bloomer, attempts to retire]
Sedley.

Ha! Monſieur Fineſſe, come back—Why in ſuch a hurry?

Fin.

Je demande pardon for my intruſion—You be upon de private buſineſs—Je revendrai demain, I'll come again to-morrow.

(Going)
Sedley. (ſtopping him)

No, Sir, the preſent time will do better—Hearkee, villain! what motive cou'd induce you to deſtroy my peace, by your infamous miſrepreſentations of Miſs Bloomer?—No evaſion, wretch!

(drawing)

or this moment ſhall be your laſt.

Fin. (kneeling)

O dear Sir! prenez garde!—Conſider how ſoon you may frighten a pauvre Frenchman out of his wits.

Miſs Bloom.

What, my admirer, Monſieur Fineſſe, is it to you I am ſo much indebted?

Fin.

Ah, Madame! have pitie!—I confeſſe, I have been von grand rogue—But, je vous en ſupplie—I beſeech you to forgive me.

Sedley.

Riſe!—A moment's reflection ſhews me that you are a wretch beneath my reſentment.

Fin.

I'l eſt vrai—It is true. indeed, Sir.

Helm.

Hearkee, ſuppoſe we tar and feather him, and then ſend him home to his own country, to parlez vous with his relations.

Sedley.
[77]

By no means, Captain—But, hence from my ſight, let me never ſee you more.

Fin.

Vous me faites trop d' honneur—You do me too much honour.

[Exit.
Sedley.

The Frenchman, of character and probity, I admire and eſteem—Virtue is not confin'd to clime or complexion, its radient emanations illumine every nation—Yet ſtill, I would not faſhionably encourage the reſuſe of foreign countries, while native merit lies buried in oblivion.

Miſs Bel.

So, Captain, you and I ſeem the only diſconſolate, unprovided creatures in the whole group—We certainly ſhould make a match of it, to complete the evening's entertainment.

Helm.

No, no, fair Lady, you have ſome other land in view—As for me—But, no more of what's paſt—Let us enjoy the preſent moments.

Woodf.

And look forward, uncle, to thoſe ſcenes of bliſs which open to our view.

Helm.

True, Boy, and as this ſeems but a bad harbour to anchor long in, let us all ſteer away for my cabin, where you ſhall have the beſt cheer an old bachelor can give, and as hearty a welcome as the braveſt ſailor in the navy.

Sedley.

We accept your offer, Captain, happy in having our adventures brought to ſo agreeable a concluſion—I only beg leave to remark—That though our follies and vices juſtly deſerve the comic laſh—Yet, when, inſtead of perſevering, we nobly acknowledge our errors, and amend—Satire then loſes her ſting, our foibles turn to virtues, and, the moſt permanent felicity ariſes from THE MISTAKES OF THE HEART.

FINIS.
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Citation Suggestion for this Object
TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 4485 The coquette or the mistakes of the heart a comedy As performed at the Theatres Royal in York and Hull. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5B3B-D