Acres. Very true.

Sir L. So I shall see nothing more of you, 180 unless it be by letter, till the evening.—I would do myself the honour to carry your message; but, to tell you a secret, I believe I shall have just such another affair on my own hands. There is a gay captain here, who put a jest on me lately, at the expense of my country, and I only want to fall in with the gentleman, to call him out.

Acres. By my valour, I should like to see you fight first! Odds life! I should like to see 190 you kill him, if it was only to get a little jesson.

Sir L. I shall be very proud of instructing you. Well for the present-but remember now, when you meet your antagonist, do every thing in a mild and agreeable manner.-Let your courage be as keen, but at the same time as polished, as your sword. [Exeunt.

IIb. ACT IV.-Scene 1. Acres Lodgings.

ACRES, DAVID.

Dav. Then, by the mass, sir! I would do no such thing-ne'er a Sir Lucius O'Trigger in the 200 kingdom should make me fight, when I wa'n't so minded. Oons! what will the old lady say

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when she hears o't?

Acres. But my honour, David, my honour! I must be very careful of my honour.

Dav. Ay, by the mass! and I would be very careful of it; and I think in return my honour couldn't do less than be very careful of me.

Acres. Odds blades! David, no gentleman will ever risk the loss of his honour!

Dav. I say, then, it would be but civil in honour never to risk the loss of a gentleman. -Look'ee, master, this honour seems to be a marvellous false friend; ay, truly, a very courtier-like servant.-Put the case, I was a gentleman (which, thank God, no one can say of me); well-my honour makes me quarrel with another gentleman of my acquaintance.So we fight. (Pleasant enough that!) Bo! -I kill him (the more's my luck!) Now, pray, 220 who gets the profit of it?-why, my honour.

But put the case that he kills me!-by the mass-I go to the worms, and my honour whips over to my enemy.

Acres. No, David-in that case!- Odds crowns and laurels! your honour follows you to the grave.

Dav. Now, that's just the place where I could make a shift to do without it.

Acres. Zounds! David, you are a coward! 230 It doesn't become my valour to listen to you.— What, shall I disgrace my ancestors?-Think

of that, David-think what it would be to disgrace my ancestors!

Dav. Under favour, the surest way of not disgracing them, is to keep as long as you can out of their company. Look'ee now, master, to go to them in such haste-with an ounce of lead in your brains-I should think it might as well be let alone. Our ancestors are very good kind of folks; but they are the last people I should choose to have a visiting acquaintance with.

Acres. But, David, now, you don't think there is such very, very, very great danger, hey? -Odds life! people often fight without any

mischief done!

Dav. By the mass, I think 'tis ten to one against you!-Oons! here to meet some lionheaded fellow, I warrant, with his doublebarrelled swords, and cut-and-thrust pistols! 2 Lord bless us! it makes me tremble to think o't!-those be such desperate bloody-minded weapons! Well, I never could abide 'em! from a child I never could fancy 'em. I suppose there an't been so merciless a beast in the world as your loaded pistol!

Acres. Zounds! I won't be afraid!-odds fire and fury! you sha'n't make me afraid.-Here is the challenge, and I have sent for my dear friend, Jack Absolute, to carry it for me.

Dav. Ay, i' the name of mischief, let him be the messenger.-For my part, I wouldn't lend a hand to it for the best horse in your stable. By the mass! it don't look like another letter! it is, as I may say, a designing and malicious-looking letter; and I warrant smells of gunpowder like a soldier's pouch! -Oons! I wouldn't swear it mayn't go off!

Acres. Out, you poltroon! you ha'n't the valour of a grasshopper.

Dav. Well, I say no more-'twill be sad news, to be sure, at Clod Hall! but I ha' done. -How Phillis will howl when she hears of it! ay, poor thing, she little thinks what shooting her master's going after! and I warrant old Crop, who has carried your honour, field and road, these ten years, will curse the hour he was born! (Whimpering.)

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Acres. It won't do, David-I am determined to fight-so get along, you coward, while I'm 28 in the mind.

Enter SERVANT.

Ser. Captain Absolute, sir.

Acres. Oh! show him up. [Exit SERVANT. David. Well, heaven send we be all alive this time to-morrow.

Acres. What's that?-Don't provoke me, David!

Dav. Good-bye, master. (Whimpering.) Acres. Get along, you cowardly, dastardly, croaking raven! [Exit DAVID. 29

Capt. A. To Ensign Beverley.-So, what's 300 going on now!-(Aside.) Well, what's this? Acres. A challenge!

Capt. A. Indeed! Why, you won't fight him; will you, Bob?

Acres. Egad, but I will, Jack. Sir Lucius has wrought me to it. He has left me full of rage and I'll fight this evening, that so much good passion mayn't be wasted.

Capt. A. But what have I to do with this? Acres. Why, as I think you know something 310 of this fellow, I want you to find him out for and give him this mortal defiance.

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me,

Acres. Stay-stay, Jack.-If Beverley should ask you what kind of a man your friend Acres is, do tell him I am a devil of a fellow-will you, Jack?

Capt. A. To be sure I shall. I'll say you are a determined dog, hey, Bob?

Acres. Ay, do, do and if that frightens him, egad! perhaps he mayn't come. So tell him I generally kill a man a week; will you, Jack?

Capt. A. I will, I will; I'll say you are called, in the country, 'Fighting Bob.'

Acres. Right-right-'tis all to prevent mischief; for I don't want to take his life if I clear my honour.

IIC.-ACT V.-Scene 3.
King's-Mead Fields.

SIR LUCIUS, ACRES, FAULKLAND,
CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE.

Enter Sir LUCIUS and ACRES, with pistols.

Acres. By my valour! then, Sir Lucius, forty 360 yards is a good distance. Odds levels and

aims! I say, it is a good distance.

Sir L. Is it for muskets or small field pieces? Upon my conscience, Mr Acres, you must leave those things to me.-Stay, nowI'll show you.-(Measures paces along the stage.) There, now, that is a very pretty distance-a pretty gentleman's distance.

Acres. Zounds! we might as well fight in a sentry-box! I tell you, Sir Lucius, the farther 370 he is off, the cooler I shall take my aim.

Sir L. Faith! then, I suppose you would aim at him best of all if he was out of sight! Acres. No, Sir Lucius; but I should think forty or eight-and-thirty yards

Sir L. Pho! pho! nonsense! three or four feet between the mouths of your pistols is as good as a mile!

Acres. Odds bullets, no!-by my valour! there is no merit in killing him so near: do, my 380 dear Sir Lucius, let me bring him down at a long shot:-a long shot, Sir Lucius, if you love me!

Sir L. Well, the gentleman's friend and I must settle that.-But tell me now, Mr Acres, in case of an accident, is there any little will or commission I could execute for you?

Acres. I am much obliged to you, Sir Lucius-but I don't understand

Sir L. Why, you may think there's no being 390 shot at without a little risk-and if an unlucky bullet should carry a quietus with it-I say it will be no time then to be bothering you about family matters.

Acres. Pickled!-Snug lying in the Abbey !— Odds tremors! Sir Lucius, don't talk so!

Sir L. I suppose, Mr Acres, you never were engaged in an affair of this kind before?

Acres. No, Sir Lucius, never before. Sir L. Ah! that's a pity!-there's nothing like being used to a thing.-Pray, how would you receive the gentleman's shot?

Acres. Odds files!-I've practised that410 there, Sir Lucius-there. (Puts himself into an attitude.) A side-front, hey? Odd! I'll make myself small enough: I'll stand edgeways.

Sir L. Now-you're quite out-for if you stand so when I take my aim- (Levelling at him.)

Acres. Zounds! Sir Lucius-are you sure it is not cocked?

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Acres. Clean through me!-a ball or two clean through me!

Sir L. Ay-may they-and it is much the genteelest attitude into the bargain.

Acres. Look'ee, Sir Lucius - I'd just as lieve be shot in an awkward posture as a genteel one; so, by my valour! I will stand edgeways.

Sir L. (Looking at his watch.) Sure, they don't mean to disappoint us-Ha!-no, faithI think I see them coming.

Acres. Hey!-what!-coming!

Sir L. Ay.-Who are those yonder getting over the stile?

Acres. There are two of them indeed!-well -let them come-hey, Sir Lucius-we-wewe-we-won't run.

Acres. What, Jack! my dear Jack!-my dear friend!

Abs. Hark'ee, Bob Beverley's at hand.

Sir L. Well, Mr Acres - I don't blame your saluting the gentleman civilly. (To Faulkland.) So, Mr Beverley, if you'll choose your weapons, the Captain and I will measure the ground.

Faulk. My weapons, sir!

Acres. Odds life, Sir Lucius, I'm not going to fight Mr Faulkland; these are my particular friends.

Sir L. What, sir, did you not come here to fight Mr Acres?

Faulk. Not I, upon my word, sir.

Sir L. Well, now, that's mighty provoking! But I hope, Mr Faulkland, as there are three of us come on purpose for the game, you won't be so cantankerous as to spoil the party by sitting out.

Abs. O pray, Faulkland, fight to oblige Sir Lucius.

Faulk. Nay, if Mr Acres is so bent on the

matter

Acres. No, no, Mr Faulkland ;-I'll bear my disappointment like a Christian.-Look'ee, Sir Lucius, there's no occasion at all for me to fight; and if it is the same to you, I'd as lieve 5

let it alone.

Sir L. Observe me, Mr Acres - I must not be trifled with. You have certainly challenged somebody-and you came here to fight him. Now, if that gentleman is willing to represent him-I can't see, for my soul, why it isn't just the same thing.

Acres. Why no-Sir Lucius-I tell you 'tis one Beverley I've challenged-a fellow, you see, that dare not show his face!-If he were 5 here, I'd make him give up his pretensions directly!

Abs. Hold, Bob-let me set you right-there is no such man as Beverley in the case.-The person who assumed that name is before you; and as his pretensions are the same in both characters, he is ready to support them in whatever way you please.

Sir L. Well, this is lucky.-Now you have 30 an opportunity—

Acres. What, quarrel with my dear friend, Jack Absolute?-not if he were fifty Beverleys! Zounds! Sir Lucius, you would not have me so unnatural,

Sir L. Upon my conscience, Mr Acres, your valour has oozed away with a vengeance!

Acres. Not in the least! Odds backs and abettors! I'll be your second with all my heart-and if you should get a quietus, you may command me entirely. But to you, my 540 dear friend Jack-Jack, I wish you joy!—I give up all my claim-I make no pretension to anything in the world: and if I can't get a wife without fighting for her-by my valour! I'll live a bachelor!

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D

I. ACT III.-Scene 1.

SIR PETER, LADY TEAZLE.

Sir P. Was ever man so crossed as I am? everything conspiring to fret me! I had not been involved in matrimony a fortnight before her father, a hale and hearty man, died, on purpose, I believe, for the pleasure of plaguing me with the care of his daughter. But here comes my helpmate! She appears in great good-humour. How happy I should be if I could tease her into loving me, though but a little!

Enter LADY TEAZLE.

Lady T. Lud! Sir Peter, I hope you haven't been quarrelling with Maria? It is not using me well to be ill-humoured when I am not by.

Sir P. Ah, Lady Teazle, you might have the power to make me good-humoured at all times.

Lady T. I am sure I wish I had; for I want you to be in a charming sweet temper at this moment. Do be good-humoured now, and let me have two hundred pounds, will you?

Sir P. Two hundred pounds! what! a'n't I to be in a good-humour without paying for it! But speak to me thus, and i' faith there's nothing I could refuse you. You shall have it; but seal me a bond for the re-payment. Lady T. Oh, no-there-my note of hand will do as well. (Offering her hand.)

Sir P. And you shall no longer reproach me with not giving you an independent settlement. I mean shortly to surprise you:-but shall we always live thus, hey!

Lady T. If you please. I'm sure I don't care how soon we leave off quarrelling, provided you'll own you were tired first.

Sir P. Well-then let our future contest be, who shall be most obliging.

Lady T. I assure you, Sir Peter, goodnature becomes you. You look now as you did before we were married, when you used to walk with me under the elms, and tell me stories of what a gallant you were in your youth, and chuck me under the chin, you would; and ask me if I thought I could love an old fellow, who would deny me nothing-didn't you?

Sir P. Yes, yes, and you were as kind and attentive

Lady T. Ay, so I was, and would always take your part, when my acquaintance used to abuse you, and turn you into ridicule.

Sir P. Indeed!

Lady T. Ay, and when my cousin Sophy has called you a stiff, peevish old bachelor, and laughed at me for thinking of marrying one who might be my father, I have always defended you, and said, I didn't think you so ugly by any means, and I dared say you'd make a very good sort of a husband.

Sir P. And you prophesied right; and we shall now be the happiest couple

Lady T. And never differ again?

Sir P. No, never!-though at the same time, indeed, my dear Lady Teazle, you must watch your temper very seriously; for in all our little quarrels, my dear, if you recollect, my love, you always began first.

Lady T. I beg your pardon, my dear Sir Peter: indeed, you always gave the provoca

tion.

Sir P. Now see, my angel? take care-contradicting isn't the way to keep friends. Lady T. Then don't you begin it, my love.

Sir P. There, now! you-you are going on. You don't perceive, my life, that you are just doing the very thing which you know always makes me angry.

Lady T. Nay, you know if you will be angry without any reason, my dear

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Sir P. There! now you want to quarrel again.

Lady T. No, I am sure I don't: but, if you will be so peevish-

Sir P. There now! who begins first? Lady T. Why, you, to be sure. I said nothing but there's no bearing your temper. Sir P. No, no, madam: the fault's in your own temper.

Lady T. Ay, you are just what my cousin Sophy said you would be.

Sir P. Your cousin Sophy is a forward, impertinent gipsy.

Lady T. You are a great bear, I'm sure, to abuse my relations.

Sir P. Now may all the plagues of marriage be doubled on me, if ever I try to be friends with you any more!

Lady T. So much the better.

Sir P. No, no, madam: 'tis evident you never cared a pin for me, and I was a madman to marry you-a pert, rural coquette, that had refused half the honest squires in the neighbourhood!

Lady T. And I am sure I was a fool to marry you-an old dangling bachelor, who was single at fifty, only because he never could meet with any one who would have him.

Sir P. Ay, ay, madam; but you were pleased enough to listen to me: you never had 110 such an offer before.

Lady T. No! didn't I refuse Sir Tivy Terrier, who everybody said would have been a better match? for his estate is just as good as yours, and he has broke his neck since we have been married.

Sir P. I have done with you, madam! You are an unfeeling, ungrateful-but there's an end of everything. I believe you capable of everything that is bad. Yes, madam, I now 120 believe the reports relative to you and Charles, madam. Yes, madam, you and Charles are -not without grounds

Lady T. Take care, Sir Peter! you had better not insinuate any such thing. I'll not be suspected without cause, I promise you.

Sir P. Very well, madam! very well! A separate maintenance as soon as you please. Yes, madam, or a divorce!-I'll make an example of myself for the benefit of all old 130 bachelors.-Let us separate, madam.

Lady T. Agreed! agreed! And now, my dear Sir Peter, we are of a mind once more, we may be the happiest couple, and never differ again, you know-ha! ha! ha! Well, you are going to be in a passion, I see, and I shall only interrupt you-so, bye-bye!

[Exit.

II. ACT II.-Scene 1.

SIR PETER, LADY TEAZLE.

Sir P. Lady Teazle, Lady Teazle, I'll not bear it!

Lady T. Sir Peter, Sir Peter, you may bear it or not, as you please; but I ought to have my own way in everything; and what's more, I will too. What! though I was educated in the country, I know very well that women of fashion in London are accountable to nobody after they are married.

Sir P. Very well, ma'am, very well;-so a husband is to have no influence, no authority?

Lady T. Authority! No, to be sure:—if you wanted authority over me, you should have adopted me, and not married me: I am sure you were old enough.

Sir P. Old enough! ay, there it is. Well, well, Lady Teazle, though my life may be made unhappy by your temper, I'll not be ruined by your extravagance.

Lady T. My extravagance! I'm sure I'm not more extravagant than a woman of fashion ought to be.

Sir P. No, no, madam, you shall throw away no more sums on such unmeaning luxury. 'Slife! to spend as much to furnish your dressing-room with flowers in winter as would suffice to turn the Pantheon into a green-house, and give a fête champêtre at Christmas!

Lady T. And am I to blame, Sir Peter, because flowers are dear in cold weather? You should find fault with the climate, and not with me. For my part, I'm sure I wish it were spring all the year round, and that roses grew under our feet!

Sir P. Oons! madam,—if you had been born to this, I shouldn't wonder at your talking thus; but you forget what your situation was when I married you.

Lady T. No, no, I don't; 'twas a very disagreeable one, or I should never have married you.

Sir P. Yes, yes, madam, you were then in somewhat a humbler style;-the daughter of a plain country squire. Recollect, Lady Teazle, when I saw you first sitting at your tambour, in a pretty figured linen gown, with a bunch of keys at your side; your hair combed smooth over a roll, and your apartment hung round with fruits in worsted, of your own working.

Lady T. Oh, yes! I remember it very well, and a curious life I led. My daily occupation to inspect the dairy, superintend the poultry, make extracts from the family receipt-book,and comb my aunt Deborah's lap-dog.

Sir P. Yes, yes, ma'am, 'twas so, indeed. Lady T. And then, you know, my evening amusements! To draw patterns for ruffles,