now, do me the favour to tell your lady, a stranger Enter CECILIA, followed officiously by BRIDGET. Capt. H. What I would communicate, madam, requires secrecy. a doubt of my sincerity: do you know Miss Mortimer? Cecil. I have seen the lady, sir. But dare I credit my senses? has heaven formed two such hearts, and for me? Capt. H. With her your story will be buried for ever and I think, the sooner you disappear, the more easily will you prevent Woodville's disobedience. I will open the affair to Miss Mortimer directly, and if she acquiesces, desire her to call for you in person, to prevent the possibility of any artifice. Cecil. He who inspired such sentiments, alone can reward them! Oh, sir! you have raised a poor desponding heart; but it shall be the business of my future life to deserve those favours I can never half repay. moment of renouncing Woodville, and in him all that rendered life desirable. [Ex. Capt. H. I find, by punishing me with acknowCecil. Bridget, go where I ordered you just now. ledgments, you are resolved to be obliged to me. Brid. Yes, madam. But if I a'n't even with you The time is too precious to be wasted on such trifles. for this-(Aside.) [Exit. At seven, you shall have certain intelligence of my Cecil. I complied with your request, sir, without success; employ the interim to the best advantage, inquiring the motive; because you, I think, can have and hope everything by daring to deserve well. [Ent. only one. My father, if I may trust my heart, has Cecil. Astonishing interposition of heaven! made you his messenger to an unwilling offender. Hope! What have I to hope? But let the conCapt. H. Pardon me, madam, but I refer you to this.sciousness of acting rightly support me in the sad Cecil.(Reads.)" Madam,-Being certainly informed Mr. Woodville is on the point of marrying a lady chosen by his friends, when, it is presumed, you will be disengaged, a nobleman of rank and estate above what he can ever possess, is thus early in laying his heart and fortune at your feet, lest some more lucky rival should anticipate him. The bearer is authorized to disclose all particulars, and offer you a settlement worthy your acceptance. Deign, madum, to listen to him on the subject, and you will find the unknown lover as generous, and not less constant than Woodville." Heavens! to what an insult have I exposed myself! Capt. H. What can I think? There is an air of injured delicacy in her which teaches me to reproach myself for a well-meant deceit. (Aside.) If, madamCecil. I had forgot this wretch. (Rises.) Return, sir, to your vile employer; tell him, whoever he is, I am too sensible of the insult, though not entitled to resent it; tell him, I have a heart above my situ ation, and that he has only had the barbarous satisfaction of adding another misery to those which almost overwhelmed me before. Capt. H. Hear me, madam, I conjure you! Cecil. Never! a word would contaminate me. Capt. H. Nay, you shall. You do not know half the good consequences of this letter. I am the friend, the relation of Woodville: my name, Harcourt. Cecil. Is it possible he should be so cruel, so unjust? Capt. H. He is neither cruel nor unjust, but only unfortunate. Hear. He designs to marry you; this I learned from himself only this morning. As a proof of my sincerity, I will own I doubted your right to that mark of his esteem, and made this trial in consequence. Pleased to find you worthy of his rank, I feel shocked at reminding you, you ought not to share it. But, madam, if you truly love him, you cannot wish that to be just to you he should be unjust to those who have a prior right over him. This shall be my last effort. (Aside.) Cecil. A motive like your's, sir, will excuse anything. How little my happiness, honour, or interest, ever weighed against his, need not be repeated; far be it from me now to disgrace him. He is apprised of my invincible objections to a match which will never take place. May he form a happier! while I, by a voluntary poverty, expiate my offence. Capt. H. Ma-ma-What the devil chokes me so? (A side.) I am struck with your sentiments, and must find you a proper asylum. The moment I saw you, I had hopes such manners could not veil an immoral heart. I have proved your sincerity, and owe a reparation to your delicacy. The proposed bride of Woodville is every way worthy that distinction; nor am I without hopes even she will be prevailed on to protect you. But I must not leave SCENE IV.-Lord Glenmore's house. Enter LORD GLENMORE and VANE. Lord G. And are you sure of all this? Vane. Absolutely, my lord. I have known the bumpkin, her footman, from the height of his own club. [what to resolve on. Lord G. What a cursed infatuation! I know not Vane. If I may be permitted to advise, my lordLord G. And who asked your advice, sir? Vane. You have, my lord, formerly. (sir. Lord G. Take care you stay till I do. Leave me, Vane. If you don't like my advice, I shall give you my opinion very shortly. A crusty crab! [Ex. Lord G. This is the certain consequence of etrusting low people; and yet, there is no doing without them. I can never master my feelings enough to speak properly to Woodville on the subject, therefore must fix on some other method. (Pauses.) That's a sure one, and falls heavy on the artful, aspiring creature only. [Re-enter VANE Vane, could not you procure me a travelling-chaise and four stout fellows immediately? Vane. To be sure, my lord, I can order a chaise at any inn, if you choose it. Lord G. Pho, pho! Do what I have ordered, and wait near the Horse-guards, in about an hour; whe I shall seize this insolent baggage, and convey her out of my son's reach. If we can contrive to frighte her into taking you as a husband, it will end all by fears, and shall be the making of your fortune. Vane. Gad! I like the project well. A handsome wife is the best bait when we fish for preferment and this gives me a double claim both on father ani son. (Aside.) Nothing but the profound respect l have for your lordship could induce me to think of this; though born without rank and fortune, I have a soul, my lord Lord G. Come, come, my good lad, I guess what you would say; but we have no time for speeches. I have set my heart on the success of this project; and you shall find your interest in indulging me. [Exeunt severally. SCENE V.-Miss Mortimer's Apartment. Enter CAPT. HARCOURT, meeting Miss MORTIMER. Capt. H. If I were to judge of your temper by your looks, my dear, I should say it was uncom monly sweet, this morning. Miss M. A truce with compliment; I must, ir reason, renounce dear flattery after marriage. Capt. H. To flattery you never paid court; but the language of the heart and the world will some times resemble. I ought, however, to praise your temper, for I am come to try it, and give you ↑ noble opportunity of exerting its benevolence. Miss M. A benevolence you certainly doubt by this studied eulogium. Capt. H. I might, did I not know it well. In short, I have taken the strangest step this morningMiss M. What step, for heaven's sake? Capt. H. In regard to a lady. Miss M. Not another wife, I hope? Capt. H. No, ouly a mistress. Miss M. Oh! a trifle, a trifle! ACT III.-SCENE I.-The Hall. Vane. Heyday! sure, his old-fashioned lordship has not employed two of us on one errand! An old man has been hovering about madam's house, and has followed me here, without my knowing what to make of him. However, ears, befriend me! [Retires, listening. Enter GOVERNOR HARCOURT, followed by his black Servants soon after. Capt. H. You may laugh, madam, but I am serious. In plain English, Woodville has a mis- Gov. H. Here, Anthony, Pompey, Cæsar! you tress he dotes on so madly, as even to intend mar- dogs! be ready to attend my lord and me on a little rying her. Imagining her, like most of her stamp, expedition. No, no flambeaus, boobies! the chaste only an artful interested creature, I paid her a visit miss, Diana, will surely take a spiteful pleasure in as a stranger, with an offer which must have un-lighting us to catch another kind of miss. And, do veiled her heart had it been base; but I found her, on the contrary, a truly noble-minded girl, and far above her present situation, which she earnestly wishes to quit. In short, my dear, I thought it prudent to part them; and, in your name, offered her an asylum. 1 Miss M. In my name! you amaze me, Mr. Harcourt! Would you associate your wife with a kept mistress? bring such an acquisition into the house of Lord Glenmore, and deprive Woodville of, perhaps, his only reason for not interfering with us? Do you think I credit this sudden acquaintance? Capt. H. I deceived myself, I find; I thought you above such low suspicion. Miss M. Yes, yes, I can make distinctions more clearly than you wished. You must excuse my interference in this affair, sir; and let me hint to you, that your own will do as little credit to your heart as to your understanding. Capt. H. Mighty well, madam! go on. Settle this with respect to yourself, but do not be concerned about me; for, in one word, if you cannot resolve on protecting this poor unfortunate, I will. Miss M. That must not be; yet his warmth alarms me. (Aside.) Nay, but, my dear, think deliberately. Supposing her all you say, the world judges by actions, not thoughts, and will bury her merit in her situation. Capt. H. It is that cruel argument perpetuates error in so many of your frail sex. Be the first to rise above it. That you are in Lord Glenmore's house, will be your justification, both to the world and himself; for what but a generous motive can actuate you? In my eyes, my dear Sophia, virtue never looks so lovely as when she stretches out her hand to the fallen. Miss M. Oh, Harcourt! I am ashamed of my suspicion; I ought to have known all the candour and generosity of your heart, and received, in a moment, the unhappy woman it patronised; yet, at this crisis in our own affairs, to run the chance of further exasperating my benefactor Capt. H. I am not to learn that friendship and love have been mere masks to fraud and folly in the great world. No one would blame me, were I to suffer Woodville to ruin himself, as the shortest way of fixing my own fortune, and obtaining my lord's approbation of your choice. But I know not how it happened, that when a mere boy, I took it my head, truth was as much to the purpose as lying; and as I never got into more scrapes than others, why I still pursue my system, and prefer honour to art. Then, if we fail, we have something better to console us than a pond or pistol; and if we succeed, what is there wanting to our happiness? into Miss M. How do you mean to manage her escape? Capt. H. That, my dearest, is the difficulty. I found she had seen you; and, therefore, was obliged, to satisfy her of my honour, by assuring her you would call for her in person. Miss M. Very well; we must carefully watch our opportunity. You dine here. The word of command you are accustomed to obey, but you must now become obedient to the look; for you know I have my difficulties, however strong my desire of obliging you. [Exeunt. ye hear? not one syllable of the when, where, or how, except you intend to dangle on one string, like a bunch of black grapes. (Talks to them apart.) Enter GREY. Grey. It is here, I am at length informed, the father of this abandoned seducer resides. Yet, what redress can poverty hope from pride? Surely, however, for his own sake, he will assist me in regaining the poor girl, and afterwards prevent the wretch from pursuing her! There, I suppose, he is.—My lord!" [with my lord? Gov. H. Well, old Sturdy! what do you want Grey. Good heaven! the father of Cecilia! (Aside) Vane. Eh! indeed! (Aside.) Grey. Oh! how my heart misgives me! Perhaps this base Woodville, her very brother-(Aside.) Gov. H. What, is the old man ill? Sure I know this honest-it is not-yet it is-Grey? Grey. The same, indeed, my lord. [court. Gov. H. No my lord to me, man; my name is HarGrey. Blessed be heaven for that, however! Gov. H. Be not righteous overmuch; for that my name is Harcourt I do not reckon among the first favours of heaven. But, ha, ha, ha! perhaps you thought I had no name at all by this time? Faith, I put a pretty trick upon-Well, well, well! You may retire till my lord is ready. [To the blacks, who go off.] I am a riddle, honest Grey! but now I am come to expound myself, and make thy fortune into the bargain. It is many a long day since I saw old England; but at last I am come home with a light heart and a heavy purse, design to fetch up my Cicely, give her and my money to the honestest fellow I can find, and grow old amid a rosy race of Britons, springing from a stem reared after my own fashion. There's news for you, my honest friend! Grey. Alas! how little will he think I deserve his favour when he hears my account of her! And how can I shock a parent, with what too severely shocks even myself? (Aside.) Gov. H. What, silent, man! ha, ha, ha! I can't but laugh to think how foolish you looked at the second year's end, when no allowance came; but that was my own contrivance; all done on purpose, my good old soul! and now it will come in a lump; there's the whole difference. Well, and so my dame made her a pattern of housewifery, eh?—–— 'Od! I don't intend to touch another pickle or preserve that is not of my little Cicely's own doing; and I'll build her a dairy, with every bowl and churn of silver !-Zounds, it shall be a finer sight than the Tower of London! and we'll set up dame Deborah's statue before it, like queen Anne's in St. Paul's Church-yard. But why doesn't enjoy this discovery, man? Art afraid I shall take her from thee? Oh! never think of that; for thou shalt bless every pie she makes; ay, and taste it afterwards, old Pudding-sleeves! Grey. Ah, sir! (Sighs.) Gov. H. Eh! Zounds! what dost mean? Sure my Cicely isn't dead? Grey. No, not dead, sir. Gov. H. She's very near it then, I suppose? Gov. H. No, sir? Then what the devil do you mean, by alarming me thus with your "No, sirs," after all? Grey. Alas! is there no greater evil? Gov. H. None that I know of; but your whole fraternity are not more like ravens in colour than note. Come, let us know what this mighty evil is. Grey. For years did she increase in goodness as in beauty; the charm of every young heart, and the sole comfort of those old ones, to whom heaven and man seemed to have consigned her for ever. Gov. H. Well, I'd a little bird told me all this. Grey. About a twelvemonth ago, during a little absence of mine, a young man of fashion introduced himself into my house; and my wife being void of suspicion, and the dear girl uninstructed in the ways of this bad world— Gov. H. The dog betrayed her!-And is this your care, you old-and that ignoramus, your wife? Zounds, I am in such a fury! I want to know no more of her infamous conduct. 'Od! I am strangely tempted to have you strangled this moment, as a just reward for your negligence; and so bury the secret with you. Grey. It is as effectually buried already, sir. I love the dear unhappy girl too well ever to tell her heaven gave her to such a father. Gov. H. Yes, yes, you are better suited to theI hope she pays for this severely! You make her stand in a white sheet, to be pointed at by the whole village every Sunday, to be sure? Grey. Alas, sir! she put it out of my power even to forgive her. Gov. H. Forgive her! forgive her, truly! Grey. By flying immediately from her only friend. Infirm and poor, I struggled with the joint evils till now; when, having collected enough to support me, I walked up in search of her. It was only yesterday I discovered her in a splendid coach, which I traced to her house. Gov. H. A house? I shall run mad entirely! A coach? Why, dare the little brazen-face pretend to elegance, when I took such pains to quench every spark of gentility in her? Grey. In the neighbourhood I discovered the name of her seducer; and in seeking him, met with yon. Moderate your passión, sir. Reflect! When age is frail, what can we expect in youth? Shall man desert humanity? Gov. H. So, so, so! Now I am to be tortured with your preaching. I renounce the unworthy little slut. I have no friend-no daughter-no anything.-'Od! I would sooner build an hospital for idiots, like Swift, and endow it with all my fortune, than bestow it on one who thus perverts reason. Harkye, sir! forget the way to this house -forget you ever saw my face!-Would I had never seen your's! For if you dare to send her whining to me, I'll torment you with every plague power, wealth, law, or even lawyers, can set in motion. By heaven, I abjure the audacious little wretch for ever! and will sooner return to India, and bury my gold with those from whom it was taken, than bestow a single shilling on her, when she loses her coach and her house. Grey. (Contemptuously.) And I will sooner want a shilling, than suffer her to waste her youth in a state which will render her age an insupportable burden. Fear not, sir, ever seeing her or me again; for the bosom which reared, will joyfully receive her, nor further embitter her remaining days with the knowledge she was born the equal of her undoer, and deprived herself of all those blessings heaven only hid, never denied her. [Exit. Gov. H. Who would have a daughter? Zounds! I am as hot as if I were in the black hole at Calcutta! If miss had only married a lout, from ignorance of her birth, I could have forgiven it; but her puppy being of fashion, the papers will get hold of it, and I shall be paragraphed into purgatory. Fools can turn wits on these occasions; and, "A certain Governor and his daughter," will set the grinners in motion from Piccadilly to Aldgate. This insolent old fellow too! I need not wonder where she got her courage: not but I like his spirit. 'Od! I like it much; it proves his innocence. What the devil did I drive him away for? Here, dogs, run after that old man in black, and order him to return to me this moment. Enter LORD GLENMORE. Lord G. And now, brother, I am ready for you. Gov. H. Yes; and now, brother, I have something else to mind; and my servants moreover— [Exit. Lord G. What new whim can this troublesome mortal have taken into his head? (A rapping at the door.) I am not at home, remember. I have disposed of Woodville for a few hours upon pretence of business in the city, which will give me time to prosecute my scheme upon his lady. Enter MISS MORTIMER, with CECILIA, in mourning. Miss M. Nay, as to that circumstance-Bless me, here's my lord! (Apart.) Cecil. My lord! Good heavens, I shall sink into the earth! (Apart.) Miss M. He can never guess at you: recover, my dear creature! (Apart.) Lord G. Is the lady indisposed, Miss Mortimer? Miss M. Yes, my lord; that is, no-I don't know what I am saying. She has been ill lately, and riding has a little overcome her, that's all.Struggle to keep up, for heaven's sake and your own. (Apart to Cecilia.) Cecil. Impossible! (Faints.) Lord G. Warner! drops and water, in a moment. How beautiful she is! her features are exquisitively fine. Miss M. They are thought so, my lord. Lord G. Her pulse returns; she revives. Cecil. I beg your pardon, madam! My lord too! am shocked to have occasioned so much trouble. Miss M. Absurd to apologize for the infirmity of nature my lord, I assure you, was quite anxious I Lord G. The man must surely have lost every sense who can see this lady, even when deprived of her's, without emotion: but to me the languor of illness had ever something peculiarly interesting. I wonder who this elegant creature is! her hand seems to tremble strangely. (Aside.) Cecil. Oh, madam! Miss M. Silence and recollection alone can secure you from suspicion; I confess I relied on his absence. (Apart to Cecilia.) Re-enter GOVERNOR HARCOURT. Gov. H. He won't return, eh? 'Od! I like the old Cambrian the better for it. I have fired his Welsh blood finely. Why, what a blockhead was I, not to go after him myself? Methinks I should like to know miss when I meet her in her coach too. Um! did he not tell me something of tracing the seducer into this house? Woodville's mistress, by everything contrary! 'Od! I shall seize the gipsy with redoubled satisfaction! But I must keep my own counsel, or my old beau of a brother will roast me to death on my system of education. Eh! who has he got there? (Cecilia rises.) A pretty lass, faith! Ah! there is the very thing I admire; there is gentility, without the fantastical flourishes of fashion! just the very air I hoped my minx would have had. [Lord Glenmore, having led off Cecilia, returns. Lord G. I don't know how, but my inclination to this business is over. I think I'll let the matter alone at present. Gov. H. The devil you will! why, by to-morrow, Woodville may have married her. Lord G. D'ye think so? well then, let's go. Gov. H. What d'ye intend to do with her, pray? Lord G. I won't trust this weathercock till all is safe. (Aside.) I care not what becomes of her, so she is out of my way: send her to Bridewell perhaps. Gov. H. To Bridewell, truly? No, that you sha'n't, neither. Why, who knows but the fault may be all that young Rakehell, your son's? Lord G. My son's, sir! let me tell you, I have his eyes: but may be, I don't look so handsome, not bred him in such a manner. because I am not so fine. Eh! a thought strikes Gov. H. Oh! if breeding were any security-me: my lady is gone, that's plain; back she will Zounds, I shall betray all by another word. (A side.) not come is as plain. (Gathers together Cecilia's Lord G. What now can have changed yon? But elegant clothes.) I'll put on these, and he'll think you are more inconstant than our climate. Did you she gave 'em to me; then he may find out I am ever know one minute what you should think the as pretty as she; if not-he and I are of very difnext? However, to satisfy your scruples, I in- ferent opinions. [Exit. tend to despatch her to a nunnery; and if that don't please you, take charge of her yourself. [Exeunt. Vane. (Comes forward.) Ha, ha, ha! why this would make a comedy! And so, of all birds in the air, his dignified lordship has pitched on me for the husband of the Governor's daughter and his own niece! Well, if I can but go through with this, it will be admirable! Thanked by one for making my fortune, and safe from the anger of all. Enter a Servant. Serv. Mr. Woodville, sir, is just gone into the house you bade me watch. [Exit. Vane. The devil he is! why then I must consign my intended to him for one night more, aud persaade my lord to delay our seizure till morning; for, to meet with him, would certainly produce an agreement of all parties, and a marriage which would never enrol my name in the family pedigree, or Governor's will. [Exit. SCENE II.-Cecilia's Dressing-room. Enter WOODVILLE. Wood. Thanks to that dear lawyer's lucky absence, I have a few happy hours, my love, to spend with thee. (Looks at her clothes.) Already retired? sure I have not left my key in the gardengate: no, here it is. (Rings the bell.) Nobody answer! I don't understand this. Perhaps I shall disturb her: I'll steal into her chamber. (Goes off, and presently returns, disordered.) Not there! her clothes too, the same she had on last! 'Oh! my heart misgives me. But where are all the servants? (Rings very violently.) Bridget! Robert! Jacob! Re-enter BRIDGET, with her hat on. Bridget, what's become of your lady? Brid. Really, sir, I can't say. Don't you know? Wood. If I did I shouldn't have asked you. Brid. (After a little pause.) Why sure, sir, my lady has not ran away; and yet something runs in my head as if she had. I thought that spark came for no good to-day. Wood. What spark, girl? Brid. Why, just after you went away, comes a young man, a monstrous genteel one, and very bandsome, too, I must needs say, with fine dark eys, and a fresh colour. Wood, D-n bis colour! tell me his business. Brid. So he axed for my lady, and would not tell me what he wanted: I came with her, however; but she no sooner set eyes on him, than she sent me out; which argufied no good, you'll say; and before I could possibly come back, though I ran as fast as ever my legs could carry me, he was gone, and she writing, and crying for dear life; but that was no news, so I did not mind it: and when she gave me leave to go to the play, thought no more harm than the child unborn. Re-enter WOODVILLE, more disordered. Wood. Cruel, ungrateful, barbarous girl! to forsake me the very moment I was resolving to sacrifice everything to her. But 'tis just: first dupes to the arts of man, the pupil soon knows how to foil him at his own weapons. Perhaps the discovery is fortunate. In a short time, I must have borne the whole disgrace of her ill conduct, and my father's resentment had the bitterest aggravation. But is she indeed gone? and will continual to-morrows come, without one hope to render them welcome? [Enter JACOB.] Where's your lady? Jacob. 'Las a deazy, how can I tell, zur? Wood. Where are all your fellows? Jacob. Abroad, making haliday. [leave? Wood. When did you go out? who gave you Jacob. My leady, her own zelf; and I'll tell you how 'tware. Arter dinner, I geed her a noate; and when zhe had red un, she axed me if zo be as how I had ever zeed the lions? Zoa, I told her noa; nor no mour I never did. Zoa, zhe geed me half a crown, and bid me goa and make myself happy. I thought it ware desperate koind of her; zoa I went and zeed the huge creturs; and arter, only stopped a bit to peap at the Moniment, and hay my fortin tuold by conjurer in the Old Bailey; and aw zaidWood. What the devil does it signify to me what he said? Harkye, sir ! I see in your face you know more of your mistress. Jacob. Dang it, then, my feace do lie hugely. Wood. Tell me the whole truth, villain! or I'll stab you to the heart this instant. (Draws.) Jacob. (Kneels.) I wull, zur, indeed I wall; doan't ye terrify me zoa! I do forget everything in the whole world. Ling you. Wood. Be sincere, and depend upon my rewardJacob. Why, I wish I meay die this maument, if conjurer did not zay I should lose my pleace! nay, aw do verily think aw zaid zomething o'my being put in fear o'my loife. Loard knaws! I little thought how zoon his words would come to pass. Wood. Will you dally? Jacob. Zoa, as I zaid, zur, when I com'd huome again, I found all the duors aupen, and not a zoul to be zeed. Wood. This fellow can never mean to impose on me, and I must think it a planned affair. (Aside.) While I was in the country, Jacob, did your mistress see much company? [gentlewomen. Jacob. Cuompany; noa, not to speak an-not Wood. Gentlewomen, blockhead! why, had she Jacob. Anan! [any male visitors? Wood. I must brain thee at last, booby! Did any men come to see her, then? Jacob. Oh yes, zur, yes-two gentlemen com'd almost every deay. Wood. It must be a scheme beyond all doubt, and I am the dupe of a dissembling, ungrateful-tracted! Ob, Cecilia! (Throws himself in a chair.) Brid. If I was as you, sir, I would not fret about her; there is not a lady in the land would slight a gentleman so handsome and sweet-tempered: I scorns to flatter, for my part. Inferials mustn't direct their betters; but had I been in my lady's place, a king upon his throne would not have tempted me. Handsome him that handsome does, say I; and I am sure you did handsome by her; for if she could have eat gold, she might have had it. He might take some notice, truly. (Aside.) Wood. Where was she writing? (Starting up.) Brid. In the little drawing-room, sir. [Exit Woodville.] This ridiculous love turns people's brains, I think. I am sure I said enough to open Wood. How! two gentlemen? I shall run disYoung and handsome? Jacob. Not auver young, zur, nor auver handsome; but drest muortal foine. Wood. So, they came almost every day? Very pretty, indeed, Miss Cecilia! Was you never called up while they staid? Did they come togeJacob. Aloane. [ther, or alone? Wood. I thought as much; yes, I thought as much. But were you never called up, Jacob? Jacob. Yes, zur, when one aw um ware here one deay, I ware caal'd up for zomething or other. Wood. Why don't you go on? I am on the rack! Jacob. Don't ye look so muortal angry, then! Wood. Well, well, I won't, my good fellow! There's money for thy honesty. Jacob. Well; there aw ware Wood. Speak out freely, you can tell me nothing worse than I imagine; you won't shock me in the least; not at all. Jacob. Well; theare aw ware pleaying on that theare music-thing like a coffin, and madam ware a zinging to un like any blackbird. Wood. A music-master! Is that all, booby? Jacob. Yes; but t'other, zur. [Jacob? Wood. Ay, I had forgot; what of him, good Jacob. I ware never caalled up while aw steay'd; zoa (I can't but zeay I had a curiosity to knaw what brought he here) one deay, I peaped through the keay-hoole, and zeed un-(Tilters.)—I shull ne'er forgeat. [rage and suspense. Wood. Tell me this instant, or I shall burst with Jacob. Screaping on a leetle viddle, no bigger than my hond; while madam ware a huolding out her quoats, and danzing all round the room, zoa. Wood. Why, I believe the impudent bumpkin dares to jest with my misery! and yet I have no other avenue; for the rest I fear are knaves, and he seems only a fool. (Aside.) And are these all that came, Jacob? Jacob. Noa, thare ware one moare, zur; aleetle mon in a black quoat; but aw only cuom'd now and tan. Wood. A disguise, no doubt! Yes, yes, they were artful enough. (Aside.) Jacob. And zoa, arter he'd done wi' my leady, aw did zhut biz zelf up wi' Bridget; and zoa ax'd her all about un, and zhe zaid az how aw coom'd to teeach madam to turn themmin great round balls, all bleue, and red, and yaller, that do stond by the books, and larned zhe to write. Wood. Yes, yes; Mrs. Bridget was in all her secrets, I don't doubt. If that fellow in black comes here again, keep him, if you value your life, and send for me. I know not what to do or think, and must renew my search, though hopeless of success. [Exit. Jacob. Dang it! but he's in a desperate teaking! Rabbit me, but I ware muortally afeard aw un too, for aw flurish'd hiz zword az yeazy az I could a cudgel. I do think conjurer moight as well ha' tould me madam would ha' run away, while aw ware abeout it, and then I moight ha' run'd away first. [Exit. Enter GREY. Wood. Ha a man! and in black, as Jacob said. Villain, this moment is your last. Grey. (Turning suddenly upon him.) Yes, young seducer, add to the daughter's ruin the father's murder. Stab my heart, as you already have my happiness. [speak to him. Wood. Alas! was this her visitor? I dare not Grey. Embosomed by affluence, exalted by title, peace still shall be far from thy heart; for thou, with the worst kind of avarice, hast, by specious pretences, wrested from poverty its last dear possession-virtue. Wood. Pierced to the soul, as I am by your reproaches, I dare appeal to Cecilia herself for a testimony of my contrition. How shall I convince you? Grey. Hardly by a life of repentance. But I debase myself to exchange a word with you. Give me back my Cecilia! Ruined as she is, I yet would recover her! Give her back then to a father you first taught her to fear, and an habitation too bumble for any but the good to be happy in. Wood. Alas, sir! can you trifle with my misery? Do you give her back to the wretch who cannot survive her loss. Let me owe her hand to your bounty, though her heart to her own. Did you know what this elopement of her's has cost me Grey. Oh! most accomplished villain! but think not to dupe me too. [since morning? Wood. Who but you can have robbed me of her Grey. Shallow artifice! Wood. Hear me, sir! and even believe me, when I solemnly swear I have deeply repented my crime, and offered her all the reparation in my power; but since then Grey. What since then? [has fled! Wood. Either by your means, or some other, she Grey. Impossible! Wood. 'Tis true, by heaven! Grey. Perhaps while you are thus ingeniously deluding me, she indeed flies. Study some other deception, while I examine the whole house, for nothing else can convince me. [Exit. Wood. Surely, this injured venerable man was sent by heaven to complete my misfortunes! My passions subside, but only into a vague horror and despondency, even more dreadful! If with rash hand she has shortened her days, what remain of mine will be, indeed, all her father predicts! (Walks by the toilette.) Ha, a letter! Re-enter GREY. I have just Grey. A total loneliness in the house! Wood. Now, sir, be convinced. found a letter from her. pro Grey. This cannot be the invention of a moment. (Aside.) Let me read it; it is indeed her hand. (Reads.) "Receive this as my last farewell. Providence has unexpectedly sent me a friend, whose tection I dare accept; and time may, perhaps, subdue a passion which seems interwoven with my being. Forget me, I entreat; and seek that happiness with another, I can never hope to bestow or partake. Consoled only by reflecting, that the grief my error occa sions, is inferior to that I should have felt, had I, by an ungenerous use of my power, made you, in turn, my victim. Once more, adieu! All search will cer tainly be fruitless.-P.S. In the cabinet you will find your valuable presents; and the key is in a dressingbox." (Woodville snatches the letter, and bursts into tears.) Cecilia! I may say, with tears of joy, thou art indeed my daughter! more dear, if possi ble than ever! A daughter monarchs might contend for, though thy weak father abjures thee. May the friend you have found have a heart bat like your own. For you, young man-but I leave you to your anguish; the loss of such a woman is a sufficient punishment. Wood. Stay, sir! (Rises.) By your boly profession, I conjure you, stay! Plunge me not inte total despair! Though without a clue to her asyium, I would fain believe my heart will lead me to it; and let me then hope you will bestow her on me. Grey. There is a something in your manser, young gentleman, that affects me. I have been young, wild, and extravagant myself; and what is more strange, have not forgot I was so: my own experience proves reformation possible; act up to her, and atone your error. Wood. I will endeavour it, sir! and, ob! could those who yet but waver, know what has passed in my heart during the last hour, who would dare to deviate? [Exeunt. ACT IV.-SCENE I.-Cecilia's House. BRIDGET discovered, dressed in Cecilia's clothes. Brid. So, I am ready against our gentleman comes. Deuce on him to run away last night, the moment I was dressed, and with an inferial fellow too! Lard, how can people of quality demean themselves by keeping company with inferials! However, one thing I am sure of, he's too much on the fidgets to stay long away from our house; and in the meanwhile, I can entertain myself extremely well. (Goes to the toilette.) [huome. Jacob. (Without.) I tell ye, my leady's not at Gov. H. (Without.) I tell you, I won't take your word for it; so come, my lord, and see. Brid. Heyday, my lord! What's the news now, I wonder? |