Mel. I'm very little acquainted with your master; but I've heard he's a very good-natured man. Sharp. I have heard so, too; but I have felt it otherwise: he has so much good-nature, that if I could compound for one broken head a-day I should think myself very well off. Mel. Are you serious, friend? Sharp. Lookye, sir, I take you for a man of honour; there is something in your face that is generous, open, and masculine; you don't look like a foppish, effeminate tell-tale; so I'll venture to trust you see here, sir; (shews his head) these are the effects of my master's good-nature, Mel. Matchless impudence! (Aside.) Why do you live with him, then, after such usage? Sharp. He's worth a great deal of money; and when he's drunk, which is commonly once a-day, he's very free, and will give me anything; but I design to leave him when he's married, for all that. Mel. Is he going to be married, then? Sharp. To-morrow, sir; and between you and I, he'll meet with his match, both for humour, and something else, too. Mel. What, she drinks too? Sharp. D, sir; but mum; you must know this entertainment was designed for madam to-night, but she got so very gay after dinner, that she could not walk out of her own house; so her maid, who was half gone, too, came here with an excuse, that Mrs. Melissa had got the vapours; and so she had indeed, violently; here, here, sir. (Pointing to his head.) Mel. This is scarcely to be borne. (Aside.) Melissa! I have heard of her; they say she's very whimsical. Sharp. A very woman, an't please your honour; and, between you and I, none of the mildest and wisest of her sex; but to return, sir, to the twenty pounds. Mel. I am surprised, you who have got so much money in his service, should be at a loss for twenty pounds to save your bones at this juncture. Sharp. I have put all my money out at interest; I never keep above five pounds by me; and if your honour will lend me the other fifteen, and take my note for it Mel. Somebody's at the door. (Knocking.) Mel. Don't let the people wait, Mr.-(Knocking.) Mel. Allez vouz en. (Knocking.) Mel. Je ne puis pas. [Exit. Sharp. Je ne puis pas! I find we shan't understand one another. I do but lose time; and if I had any thought, I might have known these young fops return from their travels generally with as little money as improvement. [Exit. Enter SHARP before several persons with dishes in their hands, and a Cook drunk. Sharp. Fortune, I thank thee; the most lucky accident! (Aside.) This way, gentlemen; this way. Cook. I am afraid I have mistook the house. Is this Mr. Treatwell's? Sharp. The same, the same: what, don't you know me? Cook. Know you! Are you sure there was a supper bespoke here? Cook. Lick-spit! I am no friend of your's; so I desire less familiarity. Lick-spit, too! Enter GAYLESS, who stares. Gay. What is all this? Sharp. Sir, if the sight of the supper is so offensive, I can easily have it removed. (Aside to Gayless.) Gay. Pr'ythee, explain thyself, Sharp. (Aside.) Sharp. Some of our neighbours, I suppose, have bespoke this supper; but the cook has drank away his memory, forgot the house, and brought it here: however, sir, if you dislike it, I'll tell him of his mistake, and send him about his business. (Aside to Gayless.) Gay. Hold, hold! necessity obliges me, against my inclination, to favour the cheat, and feast at my neighbour's expense. Cook. Hark you, friend, is that your master? Sharp. Ay; and the best master in the world. Cook. I'll speak to him, then. Sir, I have, according to your commands, dressed as genteel a supper as my art and your price would admit of. Sharp. Good again, sir; 'tis paid for. (Aside to Gayless.) Gay. I don't in the least question your abilities, Mr. Cook; and I'm obliged to you for your care. Cook. Sir, you are a gentleman; and if you would but look over the bill, and approve it, (pulls out a bill) you will over and above return the obligation. Sharp. Oh, the devil! Gay.(Looking on the bill.) Very well, I'll send my man to pay you to-morrow. Cook. I'll spare him the trouble, and take it with me sir; I never work but for ready money. Gay. Ha! Sharp. Then you won't have our custom. (Aside.) My master is busy now, friend; do you think he won't pay you? Cook. No matter what I think; either my meat or my money. Sharp. Twill be very ill-convenient for him to pay you to-night. Cook. Then I'm afraid it will be ill-convenient to pay me to-morrow; so, d'ye hear Enter MELISSA. Gay. Pr'ythee, be advised; 'sdeath, I shall be discovered. (Takes the Cook aside.) Mel. (To Sharp.) What's the matter? Sharp. The cook has not quite answered my master's expectations about the supper, sir, and he's a little angry at him; that's all." Mel. Come, come, Mr. Gayless, don't be uneasy, a bachelor cannot be supposed to have things in the utmost regularity; we don't expect it. Cook. But I do expect it, and will have it. Mel. What does that drunken fool say? Cook. That I will have my money, and I won't stay till to-morrow; and, and— Sharp. (Runs and stops his mouth.) Hold, hold! what are you doing? Are you mad? Mel. What do you stop the man's breath for? Sharp. Sir, he was going to call you names. Don't be abusive, Cook; the gentleman is a man of honour, and said nothing to you: pray, be pacified; you are in liquor. Cook. I will have my Sharp. (Holding still.) Why, I tell you, fool, you mistake the gentleman; he's a friend of my master's, and has not said a word to you. Pray, good sir, go into the next room; the fellow's drunk, and takes you for another. You'll repent this, when you are sober, friend. Pray, sir, don't Sharp. Yes, upon my honour, Mr. Cook; the company is in the next room, and must have gone without, had not you brought it. I'll draw a table. I see you have brought a cloth with you; but you need not have done that, for we have a very good stock of linen-at the pawnbroker's. (Aside, draw-stay to hear his impertinence. ing in a table from an upper entrance.) Come, come, my boys, be quick; the company begin to be very aneasy; but I knew my old friend Lick-spit here would not fail us. Gay. Pray, sir, walk in. He's below your anger. Mel. D-n the rascal! What does he mean by affronting me? Let the scoundrel go; I'll polish his brutality, I warrant you. Here's the best reformer of manners in the universe. (Draws his sword.) Let him go, I say. Sharp. So, so; you have done finely now. Get away as fast as you can; he's the most courageous mettlesome man in all England. Why, if his passion was up, he could eat you. Make your escape, you fool. Cook. I won't. Eat me! he'll find me d-d hard of digestion though- Sharp. Pr'ythee, come here; let me speak with you. (They walk aside.) Enter KITTY. Kit. Gad's me! is supper on table already? Sir, pray defer it for a few moments; my mistress is much better, and will be here immediately. Gay. Will she, indeed? Bless me! I did not expect-but, however-Sharp! (Retires) Kit. What success, madam? (Aside to Melissa.) Mel. As we could wish, girl! but he is in such pain and perplexity, I can't hold it out any longer. (Retires.) Sharp. I have pacified the cook; and, if you can but borrow twenty pieces of that young prig, all may go well yet: you may succeed, though I could not. Remember what I told you; about it straight, sir. Gay. Sir, sir-(to Melissa)-I beg to speak a word with you: my servant, sir, tells me he has had the misfortune, sir, to lose a note of mine of twenty pounds, which I sent him to receive; my banker is shut up, and having very little cash by me, I should be much obliged to you if you would favour me with twenty pieces till to-morrow. Mel. Oh, sir, with all my heart; (taking out her purse) and, as I have a small favour to beg of you, sir, the obligation will be mutual. Gay. How may I oblige you, sir? Mel. You are to be married, I hear, to Melissa. Gay. To-morrow, sir. Mel. Then you'll oblige me, sir, by never seeing her again. Gay. Do you call this a small favour, sir? Mel. A mere trifle, sir. Breaking of contracts, suing for divorces, committing adultery, and such like, are all reckoned trifles now-a-day; and smart young fellows, like you and myself, Gayless, should be never out of fashion. Gay. But pray, sir, how are you concerned in this affair? Mel. Oh, sir, you must know I have a very great regard for Melissa, and indeed she for me; and, by the by, I have the most despicable opinion of you; for, entre nous, I take you, Charles, to be a very great scoundrel. Gay. Sir! Mel. Nay, don't look fierce, sir, and give yourself airs. D-e, sir, I shall be through your body else in the snapping of a finger. Gay. I'll be as quick as you, villain! (Draws and makes a pass at Melissa.) Kit. Hold, hold! murder! you'll kill my mistress -the young gentleman, I mean. Gay. Ah! her mistress! (Drops his sword.) Sharp. How! Melissa? Nay, then, drive away cart; all's over now. Enter all the Company, laughing. Gad. What, Mr. Gayless, engaging with Melissa before your time? Ha, ha, ha! Kit. (Comes down on Sharp, who is in the corner.) Your humble servant, good Mr. Politician! (To Sharp.) This is, gentlemen and ladies, the most celebrated and ingenious Timothy Sharp, schemer general and redoubted 'squire to the most renowned and fortunate adventurer, Charles Gayless, Knight of the Woeful Countenance. Ha, ha, ha! Oh! that dismal face, and more dismal head of your's. (Strikes Sharp upon the head.) Sharp. 'Tis cruel in you to disturb a man in his last agonies. Mel. O, Gayless! 'twas poor to impose upon a woman, and one that loved you, too. [sitiesGay. Oh, most unpardonable! But, my necesSharp. And mine, madam, were not to be matched, I'm sure, o'this side starving. Mel. Your necessities, Mr. Gayless, with such real contrition, are too powerful motives not to affect the breast already prejudiced in your favour. You have suffered too much already for your extravagance; and, as I take part in your sufferings, 'tis easing myself to relieve you: know, therefore, all that's past I freely forgive.. Gay. Oh, Melissa! this is too much. Thus let me shew my thanks and gratitude, (kneeling, she raises him) for here 'tis only due. Sharp. A reprieve! a reprieve! a reprieve! Kit. I have been, sir, a most bitter enemy to you; but since you are likely to be a little more conversant with cash than you have been, I am now, with the greatest sincerity, your most obedient friend and humble servant; and I hope, sir, all former enmity will be forgotten. Gay. Oh, Mrs. Pry! I have been too much indulged with forgiveness myself, not to forgive lesser offences in other people. Sharp. Well, then, madam, since my master has vouchsafed pardon to your handmaid Kitty, I hope you will not deny it to his footman Timothy Mel. Pardon! for what? Sharp. Only for telling you about ten thousand lies, madam; and, among the rest, insinuating that your ladyship would Mel. Lunderstand you; and can forgive anything, Sharp, that was designed for the service of your master: and, if Pry and you will follow our example, I'll give her a small fortune as a reward for both your fidelities. Sharp. I fancy, madam, 'twould be better to halve the small fortune between us, and keep us both single; for as we shall live in the same house, in all probability, we may taste the comforts of matrimony, and not be troubled with its incoaveniences. What say you, Kitty? Kit. Do you hear, Sharp; before you talk of the comforts of matrimony, taste the comforts of a good dinner, and recover your flesh a little; do, puppy. Sharp. The devil backs her, that's certain; and I am no match for her at any weapon. Gay. Behold, Melissa, as sincere a convert as ever truth and beauty made. The wild, impetuous sallies of my youth are now blown over, and a most pleasing calm of perfect happiness succeeds. Thus Ætna's flames the verdant earth consume, But milder heat makes drooping nature bloom; So virtuous love affords us springing joy, Whilst vicious passions, as they burn, destroy. [Exeunt. L 1 1 A COMEDY, IN FIVE ACTS.-BY RICHARD CUMBERLAND. SCENE I.-A Merchant's Counting-house. Several Clerks are employed at their desks; STOCKWELL is discovered reading a letter; STUKELY comes out of the back room. 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: sir-Mr. Stockwell. Stock. Stukely! Well, have you shipped the cloths? 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 a while. 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 who I mean? Stuke. Yes, sir; Mr. Belcour, the young gentleman, who inherited old Belcour's great estates in Jamaica. Stock. Hush! not so loud; come a little nearer this way. This Belcour is now in London; part of his baggage is already arrived, and I expect him every minute. Is it to be wondered at, if his coming throws me into some agitation, when I tell 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. [nexion. Stuke. That event surely discovered your conStock. You shall hear. Not many days after our marriage, old Belcour set out for England; and, during his abode here, my wife was, with great 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. 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 these means, I think I shall discover much more of his real character under the title of his merchant, than I should under that of his father. Enter a Sailor, ushering in several black Servants, carrying portmanteaus, trunks, &c. Sail. 'Save your honour! is your name Stockwell? Stock. It is. Sail. Part of my master Belcour's baggage, an't please you there's another cargo not far a-stern of us and the coxswain 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 monkeys, a pair of grey parrots, a Jamaica sow and pigs, and a Mangrove Stock. Is that all? [dog; that's 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, shew them where to bestow their baggage. Follow that gentleman. Sail. Come, bear a hand, my lads, bear a hand. [Exeunt Stukely and Servants. Stock. If the principal tallies with his purveyors, he must be a singular spectacle in this place: he has a friend, however, in this sea-faring fellow; 'tis no bad prognostic of a man's heart, when his shipmates give him a good word. [Exit. SCENE II.-A Drawing room. Enter Housekeeper and Servant. Housek. Why, what a fuss does our good master put himself in about this West Indian! See 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. Housek. 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 'em. 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 among us. (Aside.) BELCOUR.' Stock. You need not wait; leave me. [Exit Serv.] Let me see. (Reads.) “Sir,—I write to you under the hands of the hair-dresser; as soon as I have made myself decent, and slipped on some fresh clothes, I will have the honour of paying you my devoirs. Your's, He writes at his ease; for he's unconscious to whom his letter is addressed; but what a palpitation does it throw my heart into; a father's heart! 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. Enter Servant. [ACT I. have thought you would have made a bad passage Bel. Nor did we: courier like, we came posting Stock. Ay, indeed! What obstruction can you Bel. Innumerable! Your town is as full of defiles Stock. I am sorry you have been so incommoded. Stock. All without is as I wish; dear nature, add Was I only a visitor, I might, perhaps, wish them I could fall upon his neck, and own myself his Bel. Well, Mr. Stockwell, for the first time in 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." mission, not a right; I am the offspring of distress, and every child of sorrow is my brother; while I Bel. True, sir, most truly said; mine's a comhave hands to hold, therefore, I will hold them open they take me where they will; and, oftentimes, to mankind; but, sir, my passions are my masters; they leave to reason and to virtue nothing but my wishes and my sighs. Stock. Come, come, the man who can accuse, corrects himself. Serv. Sir, the foreign gentleman is come. [Exit. had leisure for the employ; but, did you drive a Bel. Ah! that's an office I am weary of; I wish a friend would take it up; I would to heaven you 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 meeting gives 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 combat; that, at least, is not amongst the number. tells me I should not have the fault of self-conceit to SCENE III-A Room in Lady Rusport's house. Enter LADY RUSPORT and MISS RUSPORT. Lady R. Miss Rusport, I desire to hear no 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-andtwenty in the case; who, by the happy recommendation of a good person, and the brilliant appointment of an ensigncy, will, if I am not mistaken, cozen you out of a fortune of twice twenty thousand pounds, as soon as ever you are of age to bestow it upon him. 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. [tion. Miss R. Perhaps your ladyship calls this instrucLady R. You are strangely pert; but 'tis uo 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 gossipping 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 enlarged notions of female merit than fall 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 Venusses in their grand climacteric; a 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. [Exit. Lady R. Who? Dudley? What can have brought him to town? [your nephew. Miss R. Dear madam, 'tis Charles Dudley; 'tis Lady R. Nephew! I renounce him as my nephew; Sir Oliver renounced him as his grandson; wasn't he son of the eldest daughter, and only male descendant of Sir Oliver; and didn't 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. Enter CHARLES DUDLEY. So, young man, whence came you? What brings you to town? Charles. If there is any offence in my coming to town, your ladyship is in some degree responsible for it, for part of my errand was to pay my duty here. Lady R. And where is your father, child; and your sister? Are they in town too? Charles. They are. Lady R. Ridiculous! I don't know what people do in London, who have no money to spend in it. Miss R. Dear madam, speak more kindly to your nephew; how can you oppress a youth of his sensibility? Lady R. Miss Rusport, I insist upon your retiring to your apartment; when I want your advice, I'll send to you. [Exit Miss R.] So, 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! 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. |