Cla. Oh! you creature, come with me; I must exhibit him in the next room. 1 Lady. Oh! stay; take my card: I shall have company next Wednesday, and I insist on your's. [Exit Clarinda and Pendragon.] He is really amusing. Enter LORD SPARKLE with two Gentlemen. But hide your diminished heads, ye beaux and witlings! for here comes Lord Sparkle. Lord S. (Speaks as he comes forward) I hope the belles won't hide theirs; for in an age where the head is so large a part of the lady, one should look about for the sex. 1 Gent. Well, my lord, you see I have obeyed your summons: I should not have been here, notwithstanding Lady Bell's invitation, had you not pressed it. Gent. Nor I. I promised to meet a certain lady in the gallery at the opera to night; and I regret that I did not, for I see her husband is here. Why did you press us so earnestly to come? Lord S. Why, faith, to have as many witnesses as I could to my glory. This night is given by Lady Bell to me. I am the hero of the fête, and expect your gratulations. Here the dear creature comes. Lord S. Oh! the sweet confusion of the sweet confession! (Kisses her hand.) Beau. This ostentation of felicity, madam, is ungenerous, since you know my heart; 'tis unworthy you. I thank you for it; I have a pang the less. (Going.) Lady B. Hold, sir! are you going? Beau. This instant, madam. I came in obedience to your commands; but my chaise is at your door; and before your gay assembly breaks up, I shall be far from London; and, in a day or two, from England. I probably now see your ladyship for the last time. Adieu! Lady B. Stay, Mr. Beauchamp! (Agitated.) Lord S. Ay, pr'ythee, stay; I believe Lady Bell has a mind to make you her conjugal father at the wedding. Beau. I forgive you, my lord: excess of happiness frequently overflows into insolence; and it is the privilege of felicity to be unfeeling. But how, madam, bas the humble passion which has so long consumed my life, rendered me so hateful to you, sulted you with my love; I have scarcely dared to as to prompt you to this barbarity? I have not inwhisper it to myself; how then have I deservedLady B. O, mercy, don't be so grave; I am not insensible to your merit; nor have I beheld your Enter LADY BELL BLOOMER, who addresses the passion with disdain. But what can I do? Lord Company. Lady B. How do you do? How do you do? (On each side.) You wicked creature, why did you disappoint me last night? Lady Harriot, I have not seen you this age. Oh! Lord Sparkle, I have been detained from my company by Mr. Fitzherbert, planning a scheme for your amusement. Lord S. Indeed! I did not expect that attention from him; though I acknowledge my obligations to your ladyship's politeness. Lady B. That air of self-possession, I fancy, would be incommoded, if you guessed at the entertainment. (Aside.) Have you seen Mr. Beauchamp? Lord S. For a moment. But, charming Lady Bell, (takes her hand) I shall make you expire with laughing. really believe the poor fellow explained your message in his own favour; ha, ha, ha! Lady B. Ridiculous! ha, ha, ha! Enter BEAUCHAMP. Beau. Ha! 'tis true! There they are, retired from the crowd, and enjoying the privacy of lovers. (Aside.) Lady B. See, there he is: I long to have a little badinage on the subject. Let us tease him. (Apart to Lord Sparkle.) Lord S. Oh! nothing can be more delightful. (Apart.) Hither, sighing shepherd, come! Come, Beauchamp, take one last, one lingering look: sha'n't he, Lady Bell? Lady B. Doubtless, if he has your lordship's leave. Lord S. He seems astonished; ha, ha, ha! Nay, it is cruel! If the poor youth has the misfortune to be stricken, you know he can't resist fate. Ixion sighed for Juno. Lady B. Yes, and he was punished too. What punishment, Mr. Beauchamp, shall we decree for you? Beau. I am astonished! Was it for this your ladyship commanded me to attend you? Sparkle has so much fashion, so much elegance, so much Sophy. Oh, you false-hearted man! (Cries.) Sophy. Don't believe a word he says, for all you are so fine a lady. He'll tell you of happiness and misery, and this, and that, and the other; bat 'tis all common-place and hyperbole, and all that sort of thing. Lady B. Indeed! What, has this young lady claims on your lordship? Lord S. Claims! ha, ha, ha! Is it my fault that a little rustic does not know the language of the day? Compliments are the ready coin of conversation, and it is every one's business to understand their value. Re-enter PENDRAGON. lord, true! And, pray, instruct me what was the Pen. (Clapping him on the shoulder.) True, my make a figure in the guards, and that you would value of the compliment, when you told me I should speak to your great friends to make me a colonel? bring. You thought it so valuable, then, that you Lord S. Value! why, of just as much as it would got me a hundred extra votes on the strength of it; and you are now a little ungrateful wretch to prétend 'twas worth nothing. Enter FITZHERBERT, leading in JULIA. Fitz. But here, Lord Sparkle, is a lady who claims a right on a different foundation. She had no election interest to provoke your flatteries, yet you have not scrupled to profess love to her, whilst under the roof of her friend, whose hand you were soliciting in marriage. Julia. Yes, I entreat your ladyship not to fancy that you are to break the hearts of half our sex by Lady B. How did I command you? Do you re-binding Lord Sparkle in the adamantine chains of member the words? Beau. I do, madam. You bid me come this evening, that I might behold you in the presence of the man your heart prefers. Lady B. Well, sir, and now, now you see me. marriage. I boast an equal right with you, and don't flatter yourself I shall resign him. Lord S. Mere malice, Lady Bell! Fitzherbert's malice! I never had a serious thought of Miss Manners in my life. Enter BELVILLE. Bel. What! and have you dared to talk of love to that lady, my lord, without a serious thought? Lord S. Heyday! what right have youBel. Oh! very trifling; only the right of a husband. The lady so honoured by your love-making in jest is my wife in course, all obligations to her devolve on me. Lord S. Your wife! my dear Belville, I give you joy with all my soul. You see 'tis always dangerous to keep secrets from your friends. But is anybody else coming? Have I any new crimes to be accused of? Any more witnesses coming to the bar? Bel. No; but I am a witness in a new cause, and accuse you of loading the mind of my friend Beauchamp with a sense of obligation you had neither spirit or justice to confer. Lady B. A commission, my lord, which was sent Mr. Beauchamp under a blank cover, by one who could not bear to see his noble spirit dependant on your caprices. Bel. And when his sentiments pointed out your lordship as his benefactor, you accepted the honour, and have laid heavy taxes on his gratitude. Lord S. Well, and what is there in all that? Beauchamp did not know to whom he was obliged; and wouldn't it have been a most unchristian thing to let a good action run about the world belonging to nobody? I found it a stray orphan, and so fathered it. But you, Fitzherbert, I see are the lawful owner of the brat; so, pr'ythee, take it back; and thank me for the honour of my patronage. Fitz. Your affected pleasantry, Lord Sparkle, may shield you from resentment, but it will not from contempt. Your effrontery Lord S. Effrontery! Pr'ythee, make distinctions. What in certain lines would be effrontery, in me is only the ease of fashion; that delightful thing which enables me at this moment to stand serene amidst your meditated storm. Come, my dear Lady Bell, let us leave these good gentry, and love ourselves amidst the delights of fashion, and the charms of bon ton. Lady B. Pardon me, my lord! As caprice is absolutely necessary to the character of a fine lady, you will not be surprised if I give an instance of it now; and, spite of your elegance, your fashion, and your wit, present my hand to this poor soldier, who boasts only worth, spirit, honour, and love. Beau. Have a care, madam! Feelings like mine are not to be trifled with. Once already the hopes you have inspired Lady B. The hour of trifling is past; and surely it cannot appear extraordinary, that I prefer the internal worth of an uncorrupted heart, to the outward polish of a mind too feeble to support itself against vice, in the seductive forms of fashionable dissipation. Lord S. Heyday! what is your ladyship in the plot? Fitz. The plot has been deeper laid than you, my lord, have been able to conceive. As I have the misfortune to be related to you, I thought it my duty to watch over your conduct. I have seen your plans, and many of them have been defeated, though you knew not by what means. But what fate does your lordship design for these young people, decoyed by you from their native ignorance and home? Lord S. Let them return to their native igno. rance and home as fast as they can. Pen. No, no! hang.me, if I do that. I know life now, and life I'll have: Hyde-park, plays, operas, and all that sort of thing. But, old gentleman, as you promised to do something for me, what think ye of a commission? The captain there can't want his now suppose you turn it over to me. Fitz. No, young man, you shall be taken care of; but the requisites of a soldier are not those of pert ness and assurance. Intrepid spirit, nice honour, generosity, and understanding, all unite to form him. It is these which make a British soldier the first character in Europe: it is such soldiers who make England invincible, and her glittering arms triumphant in every quarter of the globe. Sophy. Well, Bobby may do as he will; I'll go back to Cornwall directly, and warn all my neighbours to take special care how they trust to a lord's promises at an election again. Lord S. Well, great attempts and great failings mark the life of a man of spirit. There is éclat even in my disappointment to night; and I am ready for a fresh set of adventures to-morrow. Fitz. Incorrigible man! but I have done with you. Beauchamp has answered all my hopes, and the discernment of this charming woman, in rewarding him, merits the happiness that awaits ber: and that I may give the fullest sanction to her choice, I declare him heir to my estate. This, I know, is a stroke your lordship did not expect. Beau. And was it, then, to you, sir-The tu mults of my gratitude Fitz. Your conduct has completely rewarded me; and in adopting you Lady B. Oh! I protest against that. Our union would then appear a prudent, sober business; and I shall lose the credit of having done a mad thing for the sake of the man my heart prefers. Fitz. To you I resign him with pleasure; his fate is in your hands. Lady B. Then he shall continue a soldier; one of those whom love and his country detain to guard her dearest, last possessions. Beau. Love and my country! Yes, ye shall divide my heart. Animated by such passions, our forefathers were invincible; and if we'd preserve the freedom and independence they obtained for us, we must imitate their virtues. [Exeunt, AN HISTORICAL TRAGEDY, IN FIVE ACTS.-BY GEORGE LILLO. rice have my snares been laid for Arden's life, d thrice hath he escap'd. I am not safe: living may revenge. Oh! could I win icia to conspire her husband's fall, en might I say, security, thou'rt mine, id laugh at all to come. For other instruments, ere's Green: he bears him hard about this suit r th' abbey-lands, to which the hot youth pleads me fancied right. Michael, the trencher fav'rite; bastard, bred of Arden's charity; e has been privy to our secret joys, ad, on that trust presuming, loves my sister; inks at adultery, and may at murder. aria is his price. I've plac'd her here, ompanion of my sweet Alicia's hours, o spread her charms for ever in his eye: o her are all my visits. But Aliciahe must, she shall comply: when to my arms fer honour she resign'd, her foud reluctance whisper'd she could deny me nothing. This to try. [Exit into Arden's house. ARDEN in his night-yown. Arden. Unhappy Arden, whither canst thou wander To lay thy heavy load of sorrows down? And let me pour my griefs into thy bosom, Alicia. Why, Arden, do you leave your bed thus early? Have cold and darkness greater charms than I? (Aside.) Alicia. What maid, that knows man's variable nature, Arden. But such a dream! Would sell her free estate for marriage bonds? Yet vests him with a power that makes us slaves. 'Tis heavenly this Arden. To stop my just reproach, Art thou the first to tax the marriage state? Alicia. Yet were it but a dream, Which, tho' I not remember, I abhor; And mourn with tears, because it gives you pain. Alicia. Are you not jealous? Do you not give When struggling with the raging seas for life, With gentle accents thrilling with desire, Wish the assistance of some friendly plank? Degen'rate, most unnatural child of love; Arden. What's past may be forgotten. Alicia. You distract me, Arden. Say, how shall I convince you of my truth? Arden. I ask but this: never see Mosby more. By heaven, she's dumb! Alicia. Oh! how shall I conceal (He starts.) My own confusion, and elude his rage? (Aside.) Arden. Thou'rt lost, Alicia! lost to me and You call'd on Mosby; love made me doubt my As I've forgiven thee. Pity, I'm sure, I need. ears, And question if the dark and silent night Which glow'd, adult'ress, with infernal heat! Alicia. A dream, indeed, if I e'er call'd on him. Arden. Thy guilty dreams betray thy waking thoughts. Alicia. I know I'm simple, thoughtless, and unguarded; And what is carelessness, you construe guilt. [Exit. Alicia. Thou hast it, Arden, ev'n from her that wrongs thee. All, all, shall pity thee, and curse Alicia. Enter a Servant. Alicia. False indeed; Serv. (To Maria.) Madam, your brother But not to thee, cruel, injurious Mosby. Mosby Alicia. Where is Mosby? Serv. He waits below. Alicia. Oh! haste, and lead me to him. Maria. Perhaps Alicia. Pray, give me leave-looks be in health? Serv. He seems in health. Alicia. Here, and not ask for me! Seems he or angry, then, or melancholy? Serv. Truly, I can't say. Alicia. Thou canst say nothing. Get thee from my sight. Yet, stay-no matter. I'll myself go seek him. [Exeunt Alicia and Serv. Maria. Where reason is, can passion thus vail? [Exit. SCENE III-A Parlour in Arden's house. Enter ALICIA meeting MOSBY. pre Alicia. Mosby, that brow befits our wayward fate. The evil hour, long fear'd, is fall'n upon us, And we shall sink beneath it. Do not frown; If you're unkind, to whom shall I complain? You were the first dear object of my love, Mosby. Therefore, you kindly chose to wed another. Alicia. Reproach me not with what I deem'd my duty. Oh! had I thought I could assume the name, I would have died ere giv'n my hand to Arden. Alicia. No, no; I gave him nothing: Words without truth; a band without a heart. But he has found the fraud; the slumb'ring lion, At length, bath rous'd himself Mosby. And I must fall The victim- Alicia. No, he knows not yet his wrongs. Alicia. That, that's my greatest fear. Mosby. Then, branded with a strumpet's hated name, The cause abborr'd of shame, of blood, and ruin, Thou'lt be expos'd and hooted thro' the world. Alicia. Oh! hide the dreadful image from my view. Chaste matrons, modest maids, and virtuous wives, To drive me to despair. Fain would I hope→ know My fate's resolv'd: and thee the instrument; The willing instrument of Mosby's ruio. Inconstant, false Alicia! Of the rich abbey-lands of Feversham Arden. What, if I tear Her faithless heart, ev'n in the traitor's sight, Who taught it falsehood? Frank. He is lost in thought. But I can answer that: it is confirm'd. (Aside.) I brought the deed, with the great seal annex'd, Arden. So am not I. By hell, There's justice in the thought. I'm strangely tempted. (A side.) Mosby. My friend seems wrapt in thought: I came to advise him, That Green, by virtue of a former grant Arden. For my estate, The law and this good seal is my security; Mosby. Her known virtue Frank. Impossible to thought. (Draws.) Whence, Arden, comes this sudden madness on thee, |