Lord Town. After those you have given me, madam, 'tis almost infamous to talk with you. Lady Town. I scorn your imputation, and your menaces. The narrowness of your heart's your monitor; 'tis there, there, my lord, you are wounded: you have less to complain of than many husbands of an equal rank to you. Lord Town. Death, madam! Do you presume upon your corporal merit, that your person's less tainted than your mind? Is it there, there alone, an honest husband can be injured? Have you not every other vice that can debase your birth, or stain the heart of woman? Is not your health, your beauty, husband, fortune, family disclaimed, for nights consumed in riot and extravagance? The wanton does no more; if she conceals her shame, does less: and sure the dissolute avowed, as sorely wrongs my honour and my quiet. Lady Town. I see, my lord, what sort of wife might please you. in the world, that keeps his misfortunes out of doors, than he that tamely keeps them within. Lady Town. I don't know what figure you may make, my lord; but I shall have no reason to be ashamed of mine, in whatever company I may meet you. Lord Town. Be sparing of your spirit, madam; you'll need it to support you. Enter LADY GRACE and MANLY. Mr Manly, I have an act of friendship to beg of you, which wants more apologies than words can inake for it. Man. Then, pray, make none, my lord, that I may have the greater merit in obliging you. Lord Town. Sister, I have the same excuse to intreat of you, too. Lady Grace. To your request, I beg, my lord. Lord Town. Thus, then- -As you both were present at my ill-considered marriage, I Lord Town. Ungrateful woman! Could you now desire you each will be a witness of my dehave seen yourself, you, in yourself, had seen her termined separation-I know, sir, your good-na-I am amazed our legislature has left no prece- ture, and my sister's, must be shocked at the ofdent of a divorce for this more visible injury,fice I impose on you; but as I don't ask your this adultery of the mind, as well as that of the justification of my cause, so I hope you are conperson! When a woman's whole heart is alien-scious-that an ill woman can't reproach you, if ated to pleasures I have no share in, what is it to you are silent, on her side. me, whether a black ace, or a powdered coxcomb, has possesion of it? Lady Town. If you have not found it yet, my lord, this is not the way to get possession of mine, depend upon't. Lord Town. That, madam, I have long despaired of; and, since our happiness cannot be mutual, 'tis fit, that, with our hearts, our persons, too, should separate. This house you sleep no more in though your content might grossly feed upon the dishonour of a husband, yet my desires would starve upon the features of a wife. Lady Town. Your style, my lord, is much of the same delicacy with your sentiments of ho nour. Lord Town. Madam, madam, this is no time for compliments-I have done with you. Lady Town. If we had never met, my lord, I had not broke my heart for it: but have a care; I may not, perhaps, be so easily recalled as you may imagine. Lord Town. Recalled! Whose there? Enter a Servant. Desire my sister and Mr Manly to walk up. Lady Town. My lord, you may proceed as you please; but, pray, what indiscretions have I committed, that are not daily practised by a hundred other women of quality? Lord Town. 'Tis not the number of ill wives, madam, that makes the patience of a husband less contemptible: and though a bad one may be the best man's lot, yet, he'll make a better figure Man. My lord, I never thought, till now, it could be difficult to oblige you. Lady Grace. [Aside.] Heavens, how I tremble! Lord Town. For you, my lady Townly, I need not here repeat the provocations of my parting with you- -the world, I fear, is too well informed of them-For the good lord, your dead father's sake, I will still support you as his daughter— As Lord Townly's wife, you have had every thing a fond husband could bestow, and (to our mutual shame I speak it) more than happy wives desire-But those indulgences must end; state, equipage, and splendour, but ill become the vices that misuse them- -The decent necessaries of life shall be supplied-but not one article to luxury; not even the coach, that waits to carry you from hence, shall you ever use again. Your tender aunt, my lady Lovemore, with tears, this morning, has consented to receive you; where, if time and your condition bring you to a due reflection, your allowance shall be increased-but if you are still lavish of your little, or pine for past licentious pleasures, that little shall be less: nor will I call that soul my friend, that uames you in my hearing. Lady Grace. My heart bleeds for her. [Aside. Lord Town. Oh, Manly, look there! turn back thy thoughts with me, and witness to my growing love. There was a time, when I believed that form incapable of vice, or of decay; there I proposed the partner of an easy home; there I, for ever, hoped to find a cheerful companion, an agreeable intimate, a faithful friend, a useful help-mate, and a tender mother-but, oh! how | firmed. Wild with that fame, I thought mankind bitter now the disappointment! Man. The world is different in its sense of happiness; offended as you are, I know you will still be just. Lord Town. Fear me not. Man. This last reproach, I see, has struck her. [Aside. Lord Town. No, let me not (though I this moment cast her from my heart for ever) let me not urge her punishment beyond her crimes-I know the world is fond of any tale that feeds its appetite of scandal: and, as I am conscious severities of this kind seldom fail of imputations too gross to mention, I here, before you both, acquit her of the least suspicion raised against the honour of my bed. Therefore, when abroad her conduct may be questioned, do her fame that justice. Lady Town. Oh, sister! [Falling on LADY GRACE's neck. Lord Town. [Returning.] I had forgot meYou have no share in my resentment; therefore, as you have lived in friendship with her, your parting may admit of gentler terms than suit the honour of an injured husband. [Offers to go out. Man. [Interposing.] My lord, you must not, shall not leave her thus! One moment's stay can do your cause no wrong! If looks can speak the anguish of her heart, I'll answer with my life, there's something labouring in her mind, that, would you bear the hearing, might deserve it. Lord Town. Consider! since we no more can meet, press not my staying to insult her. But as Lady Town. Yet stay, my lord-the little I would say will not deserve an insult; and, undeserved, I know your nature gives it not. you've called in friends to witness your resentment, let them be equal hearers of my last reply. Lord Town. I shan't refuse you that, madam -be it so. Lady Town. My lord, you ever have complained I wanted love; but, as you kindly have allowed I never gave it to another; so, when you hear the story of my heart, though you may still complain, you will not wonder at my coldness. Lady Grace. This promises a reverse of tem[Apart. Man. This, my lord, you are concerned to hear. per. Lord Town. Proceed; I am attentive. Lady Town. Before I was your bride, my lord, the flattering world had talked me into beauty, which, at my glass, my youthful vanity con my slaves; I triumphed over hearts, while all my pleasure was their pain: yet was my own so equally insensible to all, that, when a father's firm commands enjoined me to make choice of one, I even then declined the liberty he gave, and to his own election yielded up my youthhis tender care, my lord, directed him to you— Our hands were joined; But still my heart was wedded to its folly. My only joy was power, command, society, profuseness, and to lead in pleasures: The husband's right to rule, I thought a vulgar law, which only the deformed or meanly-spirited obeyed. I knew no directors, but my passions! no master, but my will! Even you, my lord, some time o'ercome by love, was pleased with my delights, nor then foresaw this mad misuse of your indulgence- —-And, though I call myself ungrateful, while I own it, yet, as a truth, it cannot be denied that kind indulgence has undone me; it added strength to my habitual failings; and, in a heart thus warm, in wild unthinking life, no wonder if the gentler sense of love was lost. Lord Town. Oh, Manly! where has this creature's heart been buried? Man. If yet recoverable treasure! [Apart. How vast the [Apart. Lady Town. What I have said, my lord, is not my excuse, but my confession; my errors (give them, if you please, a harder name) cannot be defended. No! What's in its nature wrong, no words can palliate, no plea can alter. What then remains in my condition, but resignation to your pleasure? Time only can convince you of my future conduct: therefore, till I have lived an object of forgiveness, I dare not hope for pardon-The penance of a lonely, contrite life, were little to the innocent; but, to have deserved this separation, will strow perpetual thorns upon my pillow. Lady Grace. Oh, happy, heavenly hearing! Lady Town. Sister, farewell! [Kissing her.] Your virtue needs no warning from the shame that falls on me: but when you think I have atoned my follies past-persuade your injured brother to forgive them. Lord Town. No, madam! Your errors, thus renounced, this instant are forgiven! So deep, so due a sense of them, has made you what my utmost wishes formed, and all my heart has sighed for. Lady Town. [Turning to LADY GRACE.] HOW odious does this goodness make me! Lady Grace. How amiable your thinking so! Lord Town. Long parted friends, that pass through easy voyages of life, receive but common gladness at their meeting: but from a shipwreck saved, we mingle tears with our embraces! [Embracing LADY TOWNLY. Lady Town. What words, what love, what duty, can repay such obligations! Lord Town. Preserve but this desire to please, your power is endless. Lady Town. Oh!-till this moment never did I know, my lord, I had a heart to give you. Lord Town. By Heaven! this yielding hand, when first it gave you to my wishes, presented not a treasure more desirable! Oh, Manly! sister! as you have often shared in my disquiet, partake now of my felicity! my new-born joy! see, here, the bride of my desires! This may called my wedding-day. be Lady Grace. Sister, (for now, methinks, that name is dearer to my heart than ever) let me congratulate the happiness that opens to you. Man. Long, long, and mutual, may it flow Lord Town. To make our happiness complete, my dear, join here with me to give a hand, that amply will repay the obligation." Lady Town. Sister, a day like thisLady Grace. Admits of no excuse against the general joy. [Gives her hand to MANLY. Man. A joy like mine- -despairs of words to speak it. Lord Town. Oh, Manly, friend endears the brother! Man. Your words, my lord, will warm me to deserve them. After some time, LORD and LADY TOWNLY, with LADY GRACE, enter to them, unmasked. Lord Town. So! here's a great deal of company. Lady Town. A great many people, my lord, but no company- as you'll find- -for here's one now that seems to have a mind to entertain us. [A Mask, after some affected gesture, makes up to LADY TOWNLY. Mask. Well, dear lady Townly, sha'n't we see you by-and-by? Lady Town. I don't know you, madam. [In a squeaking tone. Lady Town. Not I, indeed. guess? Lady Town. Yes, I could guess wrong, I be lieve. Mask. That's what I'd have you do. Lady Town. But, madam, if I don't know you at all, is not that as well? Mask. Ay, but you do know me. Lady Town. Dear sister, take her off my hands; there's no bearing this. [Apart. Lady Grace. I fancy I know you, madam. Mask. I fancy you don't; what makes you think you do? Lady Grace. Because I have heard you talk. Mask. Ay, but you don't know my voice, I'm sure. Lady Grace. There is something in your wit and humour, madam, so very much your own, it is impossible you can be any body but my lady Trifle. Mask. [Unmasking.] Dear lady Grace! thou art a charming creature. Lady Grace. Is there nobody else we know here? Mask. Oh dear, yes! I have found out fifty already. Lady Grace. Pray who are they? Mask. Oh, charming company! there's lady Ramble-lady Riot- -lady Kill-care-lady Squanderlady Strip-lady Pawn-and the dutchess of Single Guinea. Lord Town. Is it not hard, my dear, that people of sense and probity are sometimes forced to seem fond of such company? [Apart. Lady Town. My lord, it will always give me pain to remember their acquaintance, but none to drop it immediately. [Apart. Lady Grace. But you have given us no account of the men, madam. Are they good for any thing? Mask. Oh, yes, you must know, I always find out them by their endeavours to find out SCENE III-Opening to another apartment, discovers a great number of people in masquerade, talking all together, and playing upon one another. LADY WRONGHEAD as a shep-me. herdess; JENNY as a nun; the 'Squire as a running footman; and the Count in a domino. Lady Grace. Pray, who are they?' Mask. Why, for your men of tip-top wit and Lord Town. Oh, by all means: we'll wait up pleasure, about town, there's my lord-Bite- Lady Grace. Right! and these are the fine gentlemen that never want elbow-room at an assembly. Mask. The rest, I suppose, by their tawdry hired habits, are tradesmen's wives, inns-of-court beaux, Jews, and kept mistresses. [The scene shuts upon the masks to s MANLY re-enters with SIR FRANCIS WRONG- Sir Fran. Well, cousin, you have made my very hair stond on end! Waunds! if what you tell me be true, I'll stuff my whole family into a stage-coach, and trundle them into the country again on Monday morning. Man. Stick to that, sir, and we may yet find a way to redeem all. In the mean time, place diver-yourself behind this screen, and, for the truth of what I have told you, take the evidence of your own senses: but be sure you keep close till I give you the signal. Lord Town. An admirable collection! Lady Grace. Well, of all our public sions, I am amazed how this, that is so very expensive, and has so little to shew for it, can draw so much company together! Lord Town. Oh, if it were not expensive, the better sort would not come into it: and because money can purchase a ticket, the common people scorn to be kept out of it. Mask. Right, my lord. Poor lady Grace! I suppose you are under the same astonishment, that an opera should draw so much good company. Lady Grace. Not at all, madam: 'tis an easier matter, sure, to gratify the ear, than the understanding. But have you no notion, madam, of receiving pleasure and profit at the same time? Mask. Oh, quite none! unless it be sometimes winning a great stake; laying down a vole, sans prendre, may come up to the profitable pleasure you were speaking of. Lord Town. You seem attentive, my dear? [Apart. Lady Town. I am, my lord; and amazed at my own follies, so strongly painted in another [Apart. woman. Lady Grace. But see, my lord, we had best adjourn our debate, I believe; for here are some masks that seem to have a mind to divert other people as well as themselves. Lord Town. The least we can do, is to give them a clear stage then. Sir Fran. Sir, I'll warrant you-Ah, my lady! my lady Wronghead! What a bitter business have you drawn me into ! Man. Hush! to your post; here comes one couple already. [SIR FRANCIS retires behind the screen. Erit MANLY. Enter MYRTILLA with SQUIRE RICHARD. Squire Rich. What, is this the doctor's chamber? Myr. Yes, yes; speak softly. Squire Rich. Well, but where is he? Myr. He'll be ready for us presently; but he says, he can't do us the good turn without witnesses: so, when the count and your sister come, you know he and you may be fathers for one another. Squire Rich. Well, well; tit for tat! ay, ay, that will be friendly. Myr. And sec, here they come. Enter COUNT BASSET, and MISS JENNY. Count Bas. So, so, here's your brother and his bride, before us, my dear. Jenny. Well, I vow, my heart's at my mouth still! I thought I should never have got rid of mamma; but while she stood gaping upon the [A dance of masks here in various characters.dance, I gave her the slip? Lawd, do but feel This was a favour extraordinary. how it beats here! Count Bas. Oh, the pretty flutterer! I protest, my dear, you have put mine into the same palpitation! Jenny. Ay, say you so?-but let's see nowOh, lud! I vow it thumps purely-well, well, I see it will do; and so, where's the parson? Count Bas. Mrs Myrtilla, will you be so good as to see if the doctor's ready for us? Myr. He only staid for you, sir: I'll fetch him immediately. [Exit MYR. Jenny. Pray, sir, am not I to take place of mamma, when I'm a countess? Count Bas. No doubt on't, my dear. when she meets me at an assembly; or you and I in our coach and six at Hyde Park together! Count Bas. Ay, or when she hears the boxkeepers at an opera, call out-The countess of Basset's servants! Jenny. Well, I say it, that will be delicious! And then, mayhap, to have a fine gentleman, with a star and a what-d'ye-call-um ribbon, lead me to my chair, with his hat under his arm all the way! Hold up, says the chairman; and so, says I, my lord, your humble servant. I suppose, madam, says he, we shall see you at my lady Quadrille's? Ay, ay, to be sure, my lord, says ISo in swops me, with my hoop stuffed up to my forehead; and away they trot, swing! swang! with my tassels dangling, and my flambeaux blazing, and- -Oh, it's a charming thing to be a woman of quality! Count Bas. Well! I see that, plainly, my dear, there's ne'er a duchess of them all will become an equipage like you. Jenny. Well, well, do you find equipage, and I'll find airs, I warrant you. SONG. What though they call me country lass, Oh, could I see the day! With a stand by—clear the way! Surrounded by a crowd of beaux, With a stand by-clear the way! Oh, then for every new delight, Of love and joy I'd take my fill, With a stand by—clear the way! Squire Rich. Troth! I think this masquerading's the merriest game that ever I saw in my life! Thof' in my mind, an there were but a little wrestling, or cudgel-playing naw, it would help it hugely. But what a-rope makes the parson stay so? Count Bas. Oh, here he comes, I believe. Enter MYRTILLA, with a Constable. Con. Well, madam, pray which is the party that wants a spice of my office here? Myr. That's the gentleman. [Pointing to the Count. Count Bas. Hey-day! what, in masquerade, doctor? Con. Doctor! Sir, I believe you have mistaken your man: but, if you are called count Basset, I have a billet-doux in my hand for you, that will set you right presently. Count Bas. What the devil's the meaning of all this? Con. Only my lord chief justice's warrant against you for forgery, sir. Count Bas. Blood and thunder! Con. And so, sir, if you please to pull off your fool's frock there, I'll wait upon you to the next justice of peace immediately. Jenny. Oh, dear me, what's the matter? [Trembling. Count Bas. Oh, nothing, only a masquerading frolic, my dear. Squire Rich. Oh, ho! is that all? [SIR FRANCIS, coming softly behind the Enter MANLY. Squire Rich. Oh, lawd! Oh, lawd! he has beaten my brains out. Man. Hold, hold, sir Francis! have a little mercy upon my poor godson, pray, sir. Sir Fran. Wounds, cousin, I han't patience. Count Bas. Manly! nay, then, I'm blown to the devil. [Aside. Squire Rich. Oh, my head! my head! Enter LADY WRONGHEAD. Lady Wrong. What's the matter here, gentlemen? For Heaven's sake! What, are you murdering my children? Con. No, no, madam! no murder! only a little suspicion of felony, that's all. Sir Fran. [To JENNY.] And for you, Mrs Hotupon't, I could find in my heart to make you wear that habit as long as you live, you jade you. Do you know, hussy, that you were within two minutes of marrying a pickpocket? Count Bas. So, so, all's out I find. [Aside. Jenny. Oh, the mercy! why, pray, papa, is not the count a man of quality, then? Sir Fran. Oh, yes, one of the unhanged ones, it seems. Lady Wrong. [Aside.] Married! Oh, the confident thing! There was his urgent business, then-slighted for her! I han't patience !—and, for aught I know, I have been all this while making a friendship with a highwayman. Man. Mr Constable, secure there. |