Clar. That I have this day refused a man, with whom I could not be happy, I make no merit: born for quiet and simplicity, the crowds of the world, the noise attending pomp and distinction, have no charms for me; I wish to pass my life in rational tranquillity, with a friend whose virtues I can' respect, whose talents I can admire; who will make my esteem the basis of my affection.

Lion. O charming creature! yes, let me indulge the flattering idea; formed with the same sentiments, the same feelings, the same tender passion for each other, nature designed us to compose that sacred union, which nothing but death can annul.

Clar. One only thing remember. Secure in each other's affections, here we must rest; I would not give my father a moment's pain, to purchase the empire of the world.

Lion. Command, dispose of me as you please; angels take cognizance of the vows of innocence and virtue; and I will believe that ours are already registered in heaven.

Clar. I will believe so too.

Go, and, on my truth relying,
Comfort to your cares applying,
Bid each doubt and sorrow flying,

Leave to peace and love your breast.
Go, and may the powers that hear us,
Still, as kind protectors near us,
Through our troubles safely steer us
To a port of joy and rest.

Enter SIR JOHN FLOWERDALE.

[Exit.

Sir. J. Who's there? Lionel !
Lion. Heavens! 'tis Sir John Flowerdale.
Sir J. Who's there?

Lion. 'Tis I, Sir; I am here, Lionel. Sir J. My dear lad, I have been searching for you this half hour, and was at last told you had come into the garden; I have a piece of news, which I dare swear will shock and surprise you; my daughter has refused Colonel Oldboy's son, who is this minute departed the house in violent

resentment of her ill treatment.

Lion. Perhaps, Sir, the gentleman may have been too impetuous, and offended Miss Flowerdale's delicacy-certainly nothing else could oc

casion

Sir J. Heaven only knows-I think, indeed, there can be no settled aversion, and surely her affections are not engaged elsewhere.

Lion. Engaged, Sir-No, Sir.
Sir J. I think not, Lionel.

Lion. You may be positive, Sir.—I'm sure— Sir. J. O worthy young man, whose integrity, openness, and every good quality have rendered thee dear to me as my own child; I see this affair troubles you as much as it does me.

Lion. It troubles me indeed, Sir.

Sir J. However, my particular disappointment ought not to be detrimental to you, nor shall it: I well know how irksome it is to a generous mind to live in a state of dependance, and have long had it in my thoughts to make you easy for life.

Lion. Sir John, the situation of my mind at present is a little disturbed-spare me-I beseech you, spare me; why will you persist in a goodness that makes me ashamed of myself?

Sir J. There is an estate in this county which I purchased some years ago; by me it will never

Lion. Sir, if you presented a pistol with design to shoot me, I would submit to it; but you must excuse me, I cannot lay myself under more obligations.

Sir J. Your delicacy carries you too far; in this I confer a favour on myself: however, we'll talk no more on this subject at present, let us walk towards the house, our friends will depart else without my bidding them adieu. [Exeunt.

Enter DIANA and CLARISSA. Diana. So then, my dear Clarissa, you really give credit to the ravings of that French wretch, with regard to a plurality of worlds?

Clar. I don't make it an absolute article of belief, but I think it an ingenious conjecture, with great probability on its side.

Diana. And we are a moon to the moon! Nay, child, I know something of astronomy, but that-that little shining thing there, which seems not much larger than a silver plate, should perhaps contain great cities like London; and who can tell but they may have kings there and parliaments, and plays and operas, and people of fashion! Lord, the people of fashion in the moon must be strange creatures.

Clar. Methinks, Venus shines very bright in yonder corner.

Diana. Venus! O pray let me look at Venus! I suppose, if there are any inhabitants there, they must be all lovers.

Enter LIONEL.

Lion. Was ever such a wretch-I can't stay a moment in a place; where is my repose?-fled with my virtue. Was I then born for falsehood and dissimulation? I was, I was, and I live to be conscious of it; to impose upon my friend; to betray my benefactor, and lie to hide my ingratitude a monster in a moment-No, I may be the most unfortunate of men, but I will not be the most odious; while my heart is yet capable of dictating what is honest, I will obey its voice.

Enter COLONEL OLDBOY and HARMAN.

Col. O. Dy, where are you? What the mischief, is this a time to be walking in the garden? The coach has been ready this half hour, and your mamma is waiting for you.

Diana. I am learning astronomy, Sir; do you know, papa, that the moon is inhabited?

Col. O. Hussy, you are half a lunatic yourself; come here; things have gone just as I imagined they would, the girl has refused your brother; I knew he must disgust her.

Sir.

Diana. Women will want taste now and then, Col. O. But I must talk to the young lady a

little.

Har. Well, I have had a long conference with your father about the elopement, and he continues firm in his opinion that I ought to attempt it: in short, all the necessary operations are settled between us, and I am to leave his house to-morrow morning, if I can but persuade the young lady—

it at the house, with orders to have it delivered to the old gentleman.

Har. Upon my honour, I will, colonel. Col. O. But, upon my honour, I don't believe you'll get the girl: come, Harman, I'll bet you a buck and six dozen of Burgundy, that you wont have spirit enough to bring this affair to a crisis. Har. And I say done first, colonel.

Col. O. Then look into the court there, Sir; a chaise with four of the prettiest bay geldings in England, with two boys in scarlet and silver jackets, that will whisk you along.

Har. Boys! Colonel? Little Cupids, to transport me to the summit of my desires.

Col. O. Ay, but for all that, it mayn't be amiss for me to talk to them a little out of the window for you. Dick, come hither; you are to go with this gentleman, and do whatever he bids you, and take into the chaise whoever he pleases, and drive like devils, do you hear; but be kind to the dumb

beasts.

Har. Leave that to me, Sir-And so, my dear colonel, bon voyage! [Exit.

Enter LADY MARY OLDBOY, and JENNY.

Lady M. Mr. Oldboy, here is a note from Sir John Flowerdale; it is addressed to me, entreating my son to come over there again this morning. A maid brought it: she is in the anti-chamber-We had better speak to her-Child, child, why don't you come in?

Jenny. I choose to stay where I am, if your ladyship pleases.

Lady M. Stay where you are? why so? Jenny. I am afraid of the old gentleman there. Col. O. Afraid of me, hussy?

Lady M. Pray, colonel, have patience-Afraid -Here is something at the bottom of this-What do you mean by that expression, child?

Jenny. Why the colonel knows very well, Madam; he wanted to be rude with me yesterday. Lady M. Oh, Mr. Oldboy!

Col. O. Lady Mary don't provoke me, but let me talk to the girl about her business. How came you to bring this note here?

Jenny. Why, Sir John gave it to me, to deliver b my uncle Jenkins, and I took it down to his Rouse; but while we were talking together, he remembered that he had some business with Sir

John, so he desired me to bring it, because he said It was not proper to be sent by any of the common

servants.

Lady M. Colonel, look in my face, and help blushing if you can.

Col. O. What the plague 's the matter, my lady? I have not been wronging you now, as you

call it.

Jenny. Indeed, Madam, he offered to make me his kept Madam; I am sure his usage of me put me into such a twitter, that I did not know what I was doing all the day after.

Lady M. I don't doubt it, though I so lately forgave him; but, as the poet says, his sex is all deceit. Read Pamela, child, and resist temptation. Jenny. Yes, Madam, I will.

Col. O. Why I tell you, my lady, it was all a joke.

Jenny. No, Sir, it was no joke: you made me a proffer of money, so you did, whereby I told you, you had a lady of your own, and that though she was old you had no right to despise her.

Laay M. And how dare you, mistress, make

use of my name? Is it for such trollops as you to talk of persons of distinction behind their backs?

Jenny. Why, Madam, I only said you was in years?

Lady M. Sir John Flowerdale shall be informed of your impertinence, and you shall be turned out of the family; I see you are a confident creature, and I believe you are no better than you should be. Jenny. I scorn your words, Madam. Lady M. Get out of the room; how dare you stay in this room to talk impudently to me?

Jenny. Very well, Madam, I shall let my lady know how you have used me; but I shan't be turned out of my place, Madam, nor at a loss if I am; and if you are angry with every one that wont say you are young, I believe there is very few you will keep friends with.

I

wonder, I'm sure, why this fuss should be made; For my part I am neither asham'd nor afraid

Of what I have done, nor of what I have said.
A servant I hope is no slave;
And though, to their shames,
Some ladies call names,

I know better how to behave.
Times are not so bad,

If occasion I had,

Nor my character such I need starve on't. And for going away,

I don't want to stay;

And so I'm your ladyship's servant. Enter MR. JESSAMY.

[Exit.

lovely sweet babes.

Mr. J. Nay, Sir, it is a reflection on me.
Lady M. The heinous sin too-
Mr. J. Indeed, Sir, I blush for you.

Col. O. 'Sdeath and fire, you little effeminate puppy, do you know who you talk to ?—And you, Madam, do you know who I am?-Get up to your chamber, or zounds! I'll make such a

Lady M. Ah! my dear, come away from him. [Exit. Col. O. Am I to be tutored and called to account?

Enter SERVANT.

How now, you scoundrel, what do you want? Serv. A letter, Sir.

Col. O. A letter from whom, sirrah?

ใ

ter.

Mr. J. So, so.

Col. O. You villain—you dog, what is it you have brought me here?

Serv. Please your honour, if you'll have patience, I'll tell your honour-As I told your honour before, the gentleman's servant that went off just now in the post chaise, came to the gate, and left it after his master was gone. I saw my young lady go into the chaise with the gentleman.

Mr. J. Why, colonel, this is your own hand. Col. O. Call all the servants in the house, let horses be saddled directly-every one take a different road.

Serv. Why, your honour, Dick said it was by your own orders.

Col. O. My orders, rascal? I thought he was going to run away with another gentleman's daughter-Dy-Diana Oldboy. [Exit SERVANT. Mr. J. Don't waste your lungs to no purpose, Sir; your daughter is half a dozen miles off by

this time.

Col. O. Sirrah, you have been bribed to further the scheme of a pick pocket here.

Mr. J. Besides, the matter is entirely of your own contriving, as well as the letter and spirit of this elegant epistle.

Col. O. You are a coxcomb, and I'll disinherit you; the letter is none of my writing; it was writ by the devil, and the devil contrived it. Diana, Margaret, my Lady Mary, William, John-

[Exit. Mr. J. I am very glad of this, prodigiously glad of it, upon my honour-he, he, he !-it will be a jest this hundred years. [Bells ring violently on both sides.] What's the matter now? O! her ladyship has heard of it, and is at her bell; ard the colonel answers her. A pretty duet, but a little too much upon the forte, methinks: it would be a diverting thing now, to stand unseen at the old gentleman's elbow. [Exit.

Re-enter COLONEL OLDBOY, with one boot, a great coat on his arm, &c. followed by several SER

VANTS.

Col. O. She's gone, by the Lord; fairly stolen away, with that poaching, coney-catching rascal! However I wont follow her; no, damme; take my whip, and my cap, and my coat, and order the groom to unsaddle the horses; I wont follow her the length of a spur-leather. Come here, you Sir, and pull off my boot. [Whistles.] She has made a fool of me once, she sha'n't do it a second time; not but I'll be revenged too, for I'll never give her six pence; the disappointment will put the scoundrel out of temper, and he'll thrash her a dozen times a day; the thought pleases me; I hope he'll do it: what do you stand gaping and staring at,

If I

Or back again fetch her,
go to catch her,
I'm worse than the sun of a gun.
A mischief possess'd me to marry;
Sons and daughters I got,
And farther my folly to carry,

And pretty ones, by the Lord Harry.

[Exit.

Clar. Where have you been, Jenny? I was inquiring for you-why will you go out without letting me know?'

Jenny. Dear Ma'am, never any thing happened so unlucky; I am sorry you wanted me-But was sent to Colonel Oldboy's with a letter; wher I have been so used-Lord have mercy upon

quality indeed-I say quality-pray, Madam, do you think that I looks any ways like an immodest parson-to be sure I have a gay air, and I can't help it, and I loves to appear a little genteelish, that's what I do.

Clar. Jenny, take away this book. Jenny. Heaven preserve me, Madam, you are crying.

Clar. O my dear Jenny!

Jenny. My dear mistress, what's the matter? Clar. I am undone.

Jenny. No, Madam; no, Lord forbid ! Clar. I am indeed-I have been rash enough to discover my weakness for a man who treats me with contempt.

Jenny. Is Mr. Lionel ungrateful then?

Clar. I have lost his esteem for ever, Jenny. Since last night, that I fatally confessed what I should have kept a secret from all the world, he has scarce condescended to cast a look at me, nor given me ar. answer when I spoke to him, but with coldness and reserve.

Jenny. Then he is a nasty, barbarous, inhuman

brute.

Clar. Hold, Jenny, hold; it is all my fault. Jenny. Your fault, Madam! I wish I was to hear such a word come out of his mouth: if he was a minister to-morrow, and to say such a thing from his pulpit, and I by, I'd tell him it was false upon the spot. [Knocks.

Clar. Somebody 's at the door; see who it is. Jenny. You in fault indeed-that I know to be the most virtuousest, nicest, most delicatest— Clar. How now?

Jenny. 'Madam, it's a message from Mr. Lionel. If you are alone and at leisure, he would be glad to wait upon you: I'll tell him, Madam, that you are busy.

Clar. Where is he, Jenny?

Jenny. In the study, the man says.

Clar. Then go to him, and tell him I should be glad to see him; but do not bring him up im

Mute, involuntary wo.

[Exit.

Who to winds and waves a stranger, Vent'rous tempts th' inconstant seas, In each billow fancies danger, Shrinks at every rising breeze. Enter SIR JOHN FLOWERDALE and JENKINS. Sir J. So then the mystery is discovered: but is it possible that my daughter's refusal of Colonel Oldboy's son should proceed from a clandestine engagement, and that engagement with Lionel ? Jenk. Yes, Sir, and it is my duty to tell you; else I would rather die than be the means of wounding the heart of my dear young lady; for if there is one upon earth of truly noble and delicate sentiments

Sir J. I thought so once, Jenkins.

Jenk. And think so still: O, good Sir John, now is the time for you to exert that character of worth and gentleness which the world so deservedly has given you. You have indeed cause to be offended; but consider, Sir, your daughter is young, beautiful, and amiable; the poor youth unexperienced, sensible, and, at a time of life when such temptations are hard to be resisted: their opportunities were many, their cast of thinking the same.

Sir J. Jenkins, I can allow for all these things; but the young hypocrites, there's the thing, Jenkins; their hypocrisy, their hypocrisy wounds me. Jenk. Call it by a gentler name, Sir; modesty on her part, apprehension on his.

Sir J. Then what opportunity have they had? They never were together but when my sister or myself made one of the company; besides, I had so firm a reliance on Lionel's honour and grati

tude.

Jenk. Sir, I can never think that nature stamped that gracious countenance of his, to mask a corrupt heart.

once young like them; subject to the same sions, the same indiscretions; and it is the duty of every man to pardon errors incident to his kind. [They go into the cioset

Enter CLARISSA and LIONEL.

Clar. Sir, you desired to speak to me; I need not tell you the present situation of my heart; it is full. Whatever you have to say, I beg you will explain yourself; and if possible, rid me of the anxiety under which I have laboured for some hours.

Lion. Madam, your anxiety cannot be greater than mine: I come, indeed, to speak to you; and yet, I know not how; I come to advise you, shall I say as a friend? yes, as a friend to your glory, your felicity; dearer to me than my life.

Clar. Go on, Sir.

Lion. Sir John Flowerdale, Madam, is such a father as few are blessed with; his care, his prudence, has provided for you a match-Your refu sal renders him inconsolable. Listen to no suggestions that would pervert you from your duty, but make the worthiest of men happy by submit ting to his will.

Clar. How, Sir, after what passed between us yesterday evening, can you advise me to marry Mr. Jessamy?

Lion. I would advise you to marry any one, Madam, rather than a villain.

Clar. A villain, Sir?

Lion. I should be the worst of villains, Madam, was I to talk to you in any other strain: nay, am I not a villain, at once treacherous and ungrate ful? Received into his house as an asylum; what have I done! Betrayed the confidence of the friend that trusted me; endeavoured to sacrifice his peace, and the honour of his family, to my own unwarrantable desires.

Clar. Say no more, Sir; say no more; I see my error too late; I have parted from the rules prescribed to my sex; I have mistaken indecorum for a laudable sincerity; and it is just I should meet with the treatment my imprudence deserves.

Lion. 'Tis I, and only I, am to blame; while I took advantage of the father's security, I practised upon the tenderness and ingenuity of the daugh ter; my own imagination gone astray, I artfully laboured to lead yours after it: but here, Madam I give you back those vows which I insidiously extorted from you; keep them for some happier man, who may receive them without wounding his honour or his peace.

Clar. For Heaven's sake!

Jenk. Sir, as we were standing in the next room, I heard a message delivered from Mr. Lionel, desiring leave to wait upon your daughter; I dare swear they will be here presently; suppose we were to step into that closet, and overhear their conversation?

Sir J. What, Jenkins, after having lived so many years in confidence with my child, shall I Decome an eaves-dropper to detect her?

Jenk. It is necessary at present.-Come in, my dear master, let us only consider that we were

leave you for ever, I will once more touch that lovely hand-indulge my fondness with a last look-pray for your health and prosperity.

Clar. Can you forsake me?-Have I then given my affections to a man who rejects and disregards them ?-Let me throw myself at my father's feet; he is generous and compassionate:-he knows your worth

Lion. Mention it not; were you stripped of fortune, reduced to the meanest station, and I the monarch of the globe, I should glory in raising you to universal empire; but as it is-Farewell farewell!

O dry those tears! like melted ore,

Fast dropping on my heart they fall: