But-to sooth the pleasing smart, He. For my part, would lovers be govern'd by me, Whisper the glowing wish that warms it. Not one of you women so wish'd-for should be, She that would hide the gentle flame, Does but teach her hope to languish; She that boldly tells her aim, Flies from the path that leads to anguish. Not that too far your trust should go; All that you say-to all discover; All that you do but two should know, Ah! form'd for a rover by nature, Thou leader of love the wrong way. With will and excuse to betray. AFTER THE FOURTH ACT. Duet. She. WELL, what do you think- -of these sorrows and joys, These calms and these whirlwinds-this silence and noise? Which love in the bosom of man employs ? Since here we a proof of your mischief see. She. Why what would you do to escape the distress? He. I would do-I would do-by my soul I can't guess She. Poor wretch! by my soul I imagin'd no less. And once get 'em in-get 'em out how you can. She. Pray, what will you give me to teach you the trick, To keep your wife pleas'd either healthy or sick? He. The man who hits that, sure, must touch to the quick! She. Learn this-and depend on a life without pain, Say nothing to vex her, yet let her complain; Submit to your fate-and disturb not her reign: Be moped when she's sad-and be pleas'd when she's gay, Believe her, and trust her-and give her-her way; For want of this rule-there's the devil to pay. Both. For want of this rule-there's the devil to pay. VOL. II....F THE WEST INDIAN: A COMEDY, IN FIVE ACTS. BY RICHARD CUMBERLAND, Esq. REMARKS. Mr THIS comedy was produced at Drury Lane in 1771, nor have 52 years lessened its merited attraction Cumberland selected for the heroes of this piece-an Irishman and a West Indian, two of those suffering cba. racters whom the prejudices of society have usually exhibited as butts for ridicule and abuse, with the laudable endeavour to reconcile the world to them, and them to the world: he availed himself of Mr. Garrick's advice and experience, and was rewarded by an unusual run of twenty-eight nights. The copyright was sold by the author for 1501. and the publisher boasted of the disposal of 12,000 copies. ACT I. SCENE I-A Merchant's Counting-house. In an inner room, set off by glass doors, are discovered several clerks, employed at their desks. A writing table in the front room. STOCKWELL is discovered, reading a letter; STUKELY comes gently out of the back room, and observes him some time before he speaks. Stuke. I have, Sir; here 's the bill of lading, and copy of the invoice; the assortments are all compared: Mr. Traffic will give you the policy upon 'Change. Stock. 'Tis very well-lay these papers by; and no more business for awhile. Shut the door, Stukely; I have had long proof of your friendship and fidelity to me; a matter of most intimate concern lies on my mind, and 'twill be a sensible relief to unbosom myself to you; I have just now been informed of the arrival of the young West Indian, I have so long been expecting-you know whom I mean? Stuke. Yes, Sir: Mr. Belcour, the young gentleman who inherited old Belcour's great estate in Jamaica. Stuke. He seems disordered: something in that letter; and, I'm afraid, of an unpleasant sort.He has many ventures of great account at sea; a ship richly freighted for Barcelona; another for Lisbon; and others expected from Cadiz, of still greater value. Besides these, I know he has many deep concerns in foreign bottoms, and underwritings to a vast amount. I'll accost him-SirMr. Stockwell! Stock. Stukely!-Well, have you shipped the of his baggage is already arrived, and I expect him every minute. Is it to be wondered at, if mis cloths ? Stock. Hush! not so loud; come a little nearer this way. This Belcour is now in London; part coming throws me into some agitation, when I tell | ter put himself in about this West Indian; see you, Stukely, he is my son. Stuke. Your son! Stock. Yes, Sir, my only son. Early in life, I accompanied his grandfather to Jamaica as his clerk; he had an only daughter, somewhat older than myself; the mother of this gentleman: it was my chance (call it good or ill) to engage her affections; and, as the inferiority of my condition made it hopeless to expect her father's consent, her fondness provided an expedient, and we were privately married; the issue of that concealed engagement is, as I have told you, this Belcour. Stuke. That event surely discovered your con nexion. Stock. You shall hear. Not many days after our marriage, old Belcour set out for England; and, during his abode here, my wife was, with grear secrecy, delivered of this son. Fruitful in expedients to disguise her situation without parting from her infant, she contrived to have it laid and received at her door as a foundling. After some time her father returned, having left me here; in one of those favourable moments that decide the fortunes of prosperous men, this child was introduced; from that instant he treated him as his own, gave him his name, and brought him up in his family. Old Belcour is dead, and has bequeathed his whole estate to him we are speaking of. Stuke. Now then you are no longer bound to secrecy. what a bill of fare I've been forced to draw out; seven and nine, I'll assure you, and only a family dinner, as he calls it: why, if my lord mayor was expected, there couldn't be a greater to-do about him. Serv. I wish to my heart you had but seen the loads of trunks, boxes, and portmanteaus, he has sent hither. An ambassador's baggage, with all the smuggled goods of his family, does not exceed it. House. A fine pickle he'll put the house into : had he been master's own son, and a Christian Englishman, there could not be more rout than there is about this Creolian, as they call him. Serv. No matter for that; he's very rich, and that 's sufficient. They say, he has rum and sugar enough belonging to him, to make all the water in the Thames into punch. But I see my master's coming. [Exit HOUSEKEEPER. Enter STOCKWELL. Stock. Where is Mr. Belcour? Who brought this note from him? Serv. A waiter from the London Tavern, Sir; he says, the young gentleman is just dressed, and will be with you directly. Stock. Show him in when he arrives. Serv. I shall, Sir.—I'll have a peep at him first however; I've a great mind to see this outlandish spark. The sailor fellow says, he'll make rare doings amongst us. [Aside. Stock. You need not wait; leave me. [Exit SERVANT.] Let me see. [Reads. Stock. True: but before I publicly reveal myself, I could wish to make some experiment of my son's disposition: this can only be done by letting his spirit take its course without restraint; by Sir, I write to you under the hands of the these means, I think I shall discover much more hair-dresser; as soon as I have made myself deof his real character under the title of his mer-cent, and slipped on some fresh clothes, I will chant, than I should under that of his father. have the honour of paying you my_devoirs. BELCOUR. Enter a SAILOR, ushering in several black SER- Yours, VANTS, carrying portmanteaus, trunks, &c. He writes at his ease; for he 's unconscious to Sail. 'Save your honour! is your name Stock- tion does it throw my heart into; a father's heart! whom his letter is addressed; but what a palpitawell, pray? All the reports I ever received give me favourable impressions of his character, wild, perhaps, as the manner of his country is, but I trust, not frantic or unprincipled. Stock. It is. Sail. Part of my master Belcour's baggage, a'nt please you: there's another cargo not far a-stern of us; and the cockswain has got charge of the dumb creatures. Stock. Pr'ythee, friend, what dumb creatures do you speak of; has Mr. Belcour brought over a collection of wild beasts? Sail. No, Lord love him; no, not he; let me see; there's two green monkies, a pair of gray parrots, a Jamaica sow and pigs, and a Mangrove dog; that's all. Stock. Is that all? Sail. Yes, your honour; yes, that's all; bless his heart, a' might have brought over the whole island if he would; a' didn't leave a dry eye in it. Stock. Indeed!-Stukely, show them where to bestow their baggage. Follow that gentleman. Sail. Come, bear a hand, my lads, bear a hand. Enter SERVANT. Serv. Sir, the foreign gentleman is come. [Exit. Enter BELCOUR. Stock. Mr. Belcour, I am rejoiced to see you; you are welcome to England! Bel. I thank you heartily, good Mr. Stockwell; you and I have long conversed at a distance; now we are met; and the pleasure this perils I have run through in accomplishing it. meeting gives me, amply compensates for the Stock. What perils, Mr. Belcour? I could not have thought you would have made a bad passage at this time o' year. [Exit, with STUKELY and SERVANTS. Bel. Nor did we courier-like, we came postStock. If the principal tallies with the purveying to your shores, upon the pinions of the swiftors, he must be a singular spectacle in this place: est gales that ever blew ; 'tis upon English ground he has a friend, however, in this sea-faring fellow; all my difficulties have arisen; 'tis the passage 'tis no bad prognostic of a man's heart, when his from the river side I complain of. shipmates give him a good word. [Exit. SCENE II-A Drawing Room. Stock. Ay, indeed! What obstructions can you have met between this and the river side? Bel. Innumerable! Your town is as full of defiles as the island of Corsica, and I believe they House. Why, what a fuss does our good mas- are as obstinately defended: so much hurry, bus Bel. Why, 'faith 'twas all my own fault; accustomed to a land of slaves, and out of patience with the whole tribe of custom-house extortioners, boatmen, tide-waiters, and water-bailiffs, that beset me on all sides, worse than a swarm of moschettoes, I proceeded a little too roughly to brush them away with my rattan; the sturdy rogues took this in dudgeon, and, beginning to rebel, the mob chose different sides, and a furious scuffle ensued; in the course of which, my person and apparel suffered so much, that I was obliged to step into the first tavern to refit, before I could make my approaches in any decent trim. Stock. All without is as I wish; dear nature, add the rest, I am happy! [Aside.] Well, Mr. Belcour, 'tis a rough sample you have had of my countrymen's spirit; but, I trust, you'll not think the worse of them for it. along with me, we'll agree upon your admission, and enter on a course of lectures directly. Bel. With all my heart. [Exeunt. SCENE III-A Room in LADY RUSPORT'S house. Enter LADY RUSPORT and MISS RUSPORT. Lady R. Miss Rusport, I desire to hear nc more of captain Dudley and his destitute family; not a shilling of mine shall ever cross the hands of any of them; because my sister chose to marry a beggar, am I bound to support him and his posterity? Miss R. I think you are. Lady R. You think I am! and pray where do you find the law that tells you so? Miss R. I am not proficient enough to quote chapter and verse; but I take charity to be a main clause in the great statute of Christianity. Lady R. I say charity indeed! I am apt to think the distresses of old Dudley, and of his daughter into the bargain, would never break your heart, if there was not a certain young fellow of two and twenty in the case; who, by the happy recommendation of a good person, and the brilliant apBel. Not at all, not at all; I like them the bet-pointments of an ensigncy, will, if I am not misWas I only a visitor, I might, perhaps, wish taken, cozen you out of a fortune of twice twenty them a little more tractable; but, as a fellow-sub- thousand pounds, as soon as ever you are of age ject, and a sharer in their freedom, I applaud their to bestow it upon him. spirit, though I feel the effects of it in every bone of my skin. ter. Stock. That's well; I like that well. How gladly I could fall upon his neck, and own myself his father! [Aside. Bel. Well, Mr. Stockwell, for the first time in my life, here am I in England; at the fountain head of pleasure, in the land of beauty, of arts, and elegancies. My happy stars have given me a good estate, and the conspiring winds have blown me hither to spend it. Stock. To use it, not to waste it, I should hope; to treat it, Mr. Belcour, not as a vassal, over whom you have a wanton and a despotic power; but as a subject, which you are bound to govern, with a temperate and restrained authority. Bel. True, Sir, most truly said; mine's a commission, not a right; I am the offspring of distress, and every child of sorrow is my brother: while I have hands to hold, therefore, I will hold them open to mankind; but, Sir, my passions are my masters; they take me where they will; and oftentimes they leave to reason and to virtue, nothing but my wishes and my sighs. Stock. Come, come, the man who can accuse, corrects himself Bel. Ah! that's an office I am weary of; I wish a friend would take it up; I would to Heaven you had leisure for the employ, but, did you drive a trade to the four corners of the world, you would not find the task so toilsome as to keep me free from faults. Stock. Well, I am not discouraged; this candour tells me I should not have the fault of selfconceit to combat ; that, at least, is not amongst the number. Bel. No; if I knew that man on earth who thought more humbly of me than I do of myself, I would take up his opinion, and forego my own. Stock. And were I to choose a pupil, it should be one of your complexion; so if you'll come Miss R. A nephew of your ladyship's can never want any other recommendation with me: and if my partiality for Charles Dudley is acquitted by the rest of the world, I hope lady Rusport will not condemn me for it. Lady R. I condemn you! I thank Heaven, Miss Rusport, I am no ways responsible for your conduct; nor is it any concern of mine how you dispose of yourself: you are not my daughter, and, when I married your father, poor Sir Stephen Rusport, I found you a forward, spoiled Miss of fourteen, far above being instructed by me. Miss R. Perhaps your ladyship calls this instruction. Lady R. You are strangely pert; but 'tis no wonder: your mother, I'm told, was a fine lady: and according to the modern style of education you was brought up. It was not so in my young days; there was then some decorum in the world, some subordination, as the great Locke expresses it. Oh! 'twas an edifying sight, to see the regular deportment observed in our family; no giggling, no gossiping, was going on there; my good father, Sir Oliver Roundhead, never was seen to laugh himself, nor ever allowed it in his children. Miss R. Ay; those were happy times, indeed. Lady R. But, in this forward age, we have coquettes in the egg-shell, and philosophers in the cradle; girls of fifteen, that lead the fashion in new caps and new opinions, that have their sentiments and their sensations: and the idle fops encourage them in it: O' my conscience, I wonder what it is the men can see in such babies. Miss R. True, Madam; but all men do not overlook the maturer beauties of your ladyship's age; witness your admired Major Dennis O'Flaherty; there 's an example of some discernment; I declare to you, when your ladyship is by, the major takes no more notice of me, than if I was part of the furniture of your chamber. Lady R. The major, child, has travelled through various kingdoms and climates, and has more en larged notions of female merit than falls to the lot of an English home-bred lover; in most other countries, no woman on your side forty would ever be named in a polite circle. Miss R. Right, Madam; I've been told that in Vienna they have coquettes upon crutches, and Venuses in their grand climacteric; the lover there celebrates the wrinkles, not the dimples, in his mistress's face. The major, I think, has served in the Imperial army. Lady R. Are you piqued, my young Madam? Had my sister Louisa yielded to the addresses of one of major O'Flaherty's person and appearance, she would have had some excuse; but to run away as she did, at the age of sixteen too, with a man of old Dudley's sort Miss R. Was, in my opinion, the most venial trespass that ever girl of sixteen committed; of a noble family, an engaging person, strict honour, and sound understanding, what accomplishment was there wanting in Captain Dudley, but that which the prodigality of his ancestors had deprived him of? Lady R. They left him as much as he deserves; hasn't the old man captain's half-pay? and is not the son an ensign? Miss R. An ensign! Alas, poor Charles! would to Heaven he knew what my heart feels and suffers for his sake. Enter SERVANT. Serv. Ensign Dudley, to wait upon your ladyship. Lady R. Who! Dudley; what can have brought him to town? Miss R. Dear Madam, 'tis Charles Dudley, 'tis your nephew. Charles. Had it pleased my grandfather to enable me to have obeyed his caution, I would have done it; but you well know how destitute I am; and 'tis not to be wondered at if I prefer the service of my king to that of any other master. Lady R. Well, well, take your own course, 'tis no concern of mine: you never consulted me. Charles. I frequently wrote to your ladyship but could obtain no answer; and since my grandfather's death, this is the first opportunity I have had of waiting upon you. Lady R. I must desire you not to mention the death of that dear good man in my hearing; my spirits cannot support it. Charles. I shall obey you; permit me to say, that, as that event has richly supplied you with the materials of bounty, the distresses of my family can furnish you with objects of it. Lady R. The distresses of your family, child, are quite out of the question at present. Tell your father and your sister, I totally disapprove of their coming up to town. Charles. Must I tell my father that, before your ladyship knows the motive that brought him hither? Allured by the offer of exchanging for a commission on full pay, the veteran, after thirty years' service, prepares to encounter the fatal heats of Senegambia; but wants a small supply to equip him for the expedition. Enter SERVANT. Serv. Major O'Flaherty, to wait on your ladyship. Enter MAJOR. O'Fla. Spare your speeches, young man: dont Lady R. Nephew! I renounce him as my ne-that? I hope, Madam, 'tis evidence enough of my you think her ladyship can take my word for phew; Sir Oliver renounced him as his grand- being present, when I have the honour of telling son; wasn't he son of the eldest daughter, and only male descendant of Sir Oliver; and didn't you so myself. he cut him off with a shilling? Didn't the poor dear good old man leave his fortune to me, except a small annuity to my maiden sister, who spoiled her constitution with nursing him? and, depend upon it, not a penny of that fortune shall ever be disposed of otherwise than according to the will of the donor. in it. see you. Nephew Dudley, you perceive I am enLady R. Major O'Flaherty, I am rejoiced to gaged. ship's more agreeable engagements. I presume I Charles. I shall not intrude upon your ladyhave my answer. Lady R. Your answer, child! What answer man, your obedient! Upon my conscience, as fine Miss R. Dear Madam, speak more kindly to Charles. So much for the virtues of a puritan your nephew; how can you oppress a youth of-out upon it! her heart is flint; yet that wohis sensibility? Lady R. Miss Rusport, I insist upon your re-ticle in her composition, would, I dare be sworn. man, that aunt of mine, without one worthy partiring to your apartment; when I want your ad- as soon set her foot in a pesthouse, as in a playvice, I'll send to you. [Exit Miss RUSPORT.] So house. you have put on a red coat too, as well as your father; 'tis plain what value you set upon the good advice Sir Oliver used to give you: how often has he cautioned you against the army? Enter Miss RUSPORT. Miss R. Stop, stay a little, Charles; whither are you going in such haste? |