ACT I.

SCENE I.-An Apartment at Mr. Norberry's. Enter SIR WILLIAM DORRILLON, followed by MR. NORBERRY.

Mr. N. Why blame me? My sister had the sole management of your daughter, by your own autho rity, from the age of six years, till within eight months of the present time; when, in consequence of my sister's death, she was transferred to my protection.

Sir W. Your sister, Mr. Norberry, was a prudent, good woman; she never could instruct her in all this vice.

Mr. N. Depend upon it, my dear friend, that Miss Dorrillon, your daughter, came to my house just the same heedless woman of fashion you now see her. Sir W. Very well; 'tis very well! But when I think on my disappointment

Mr. N. There is nothing which may not be repaired. Maria, with you for a guide

Sir W. Me! She turns me into ridicule : laughs at me. This morning, as she was enumerating some of her frivolous expenses, she observed me lift up my hands and sigh; on which she named fifty other extravagances she had no occasion to mention, merely to enjoy the pang which every folly of her's sends to my heart.

ness and submission: but your present rebukes from Mr. Mandred, (as you are called,) from a perfect stranger, as she supposes, she considers as an impertinence which she has a right to resent.

Sir W. I wish I had continued abroad. And yet, the hope of beholding her, and of bestowing upon her the riches I acquired, was my sole support through all the toils by which I gained them.

Mr. N. And, considering her present course of life, your riches could not come more opportunely.

Sir W. She shall never have a farthing of them. Do you think I have encountered the perils of almost every climate, to squander my hard-earned fortune upon the paltry vicious pleasures in which she delights? No. I have been now in your house exactly a month; I will stay but one day longer, and, then, without telling her who I am, I will leave the kingdom and her for ever; nor shall she know that this insignificant merchant, whom she despises, was her father, till he is gone never to be recalled.

Mr. N. You are offended with some justice; but, as I have often told you, your excessive delicacy and respect, for the conduct of the other sex, degenerate into rigour.

Sir W. True; for what I see so near perfection as woman, I want to see perfect. We, Mr. Norberry, can never be perfect; but, surely, women might easily be made angels!

Mr. N. And if they were, we should soon be glad to make them into women again.

visitors, in imitation of her, treat me with levity, or with contempt. But I'll go away to-morrow. Mr. N. Can you desert your child in the moment she most wants your protection? That exquisite beauty just now mature

Sir W. There's my difficulty! there's my struggle! If she were not so like her mother, I could leave her without a pang; cast her off, and think no more of her. But that shape! that face! those speaking looks! Yet, how reversed! Where is the diffidence, the humility-where is the simplicity of my beloved wife? Buried in her grave. Mr. N. And, in all this great town, you may never see even its apparition.

Sir W. I rejoice, however, at the stratagem by which I have gained a knowledge of her heart: deprived of the means of searching it in her early years, had I at present come as her father, she might have deceived me with counterfeit manners, till time disclosed the imposition. Now, at least, I am not imposed upon.

Enter a Servant.

My dear lord, I am glad to see you. My lord, I hope I see you in perfect health.

Lord P. Yes; but in very ill-humour. I came to London early this morning with my family, for the winter, and found my house, after going through only a slight repair, so damp, that I dare not sleep in it; and so I am now sending and going all over the town to seek for lodgings.

Mr. N. Then seek no farther, but take up your lodgings here.

Lord P. To be plain with you, I called in hopes you would ask me; for I am so delicately scrupulous in respect to Lady Priory, that I could not bear the thought of taking her to an hotel.

Mr. N. Then, pray, return home, and bring her hither immediately, with all your luggage.

Lord P. I am most extremely obliged to you; for into no one house belonging to any of my acquaintance would I take my wife, so soon as into your's. I have now been married eleven years; and, during all that time, I have made it a rule never to go on a visit, so as to domesticate, in the house of a married man.

Sir W. May I inquire the reason of that? Lord P. It is because I am married myself; and having always treated my wife according to the ancient mode of treating wives, I would rather she should never be an eye-witness to the modern household management.

Sir W. The ancients, I believe, were very affectionate to their wives.

Lord P. And they had reason to be so; for their wives obeyed them. The ancients seldom gave them the liberty to do wrong; but modern wives do as they like. [as she likes? Mr. N. And don't you suffer Lady Priory to do Lord P. Yes; when it is what I like, too: but never, never else.

Sir W. Does not this draw upon you the character of an unkind husband?

Lord P. That I am proud of. Did you never observe, that seldom a breach of fidelity in a wife is exposed, where the unfortunate husband is not said to be "the best creature in the world! Poor man, so good-natured! Dotingly fond of his wife! Indulged her in everything! How cruel in her to serve him so!" Now, if I am served so, it shall not be for my good-nature.

Mr. N. But I hope you equally disapprove of every severity.

Lord P. What do you mean by severity?

Mr. N. You know you used to be rather violent in your temper.

Lord P. So I am still; apt to be hasty and passionate, but that is rather of an advantage to me as a husband; it causes me to be obeyed without hesitation; no liberty for contention, tears, or repining. I ensure conjugal sunshine, by now and then introducing a storm; while some husbands never see anything but a cloudy sky, and all for the want of a little domestic thunder to clear away the vapours.

Sir W. I have long conceived indulgence to be the bane of female happiness.

Lord P. And so it is. I know several women of fashion, who will visit six places of different amusement on the same night; have company at home besides; and yet, for want of something more, they'll be out of spirits: my wife never goes to a public place, has scarce ever company at home, and yet is always in spirits.

Sir W. Never visits operas, balls, or roats? Lord P. How should she? She goes to bed every night exactly at ten.

Mr. N. In the name of wonder, how have you been able to bring her to that?

[five. Lord P. By making her rise every morning at Mr. N. And so she becomes tired before night? Lord P. Tired to death. Or, if I see her eyes completely open at bed-time, and she asks me to play one game more at picquet, the next morning I jog her elbow at half after four.

[signal

Mr. N. But suppose she does not reply to the Lord P. Then I turn the key of the door when I leave the chamber, and there I find her when I come home in the evening. [all day?

Sir W. And without her having seen a creature Lord P. That is in my favour; for not having seen a single soul, she is rejoiced even to see me. Mr. N. And will she speak to you after such usage?

Lord P. If you only considered how much a woman longs to speak, after being kept a whole day silent, you would not ask that question.

Mr. N. Well, this is a most surprising method! Lord P. Not at all. In ancient days, when manners were simple and pure, did not wives wait at the table of their husbands? and did not angels witness the subordination? I have taught Lady Priory to practise the same humble docile obedience; to pay respect to her husband in every shape and every form; no careless inattention to me; no smiling politeness to others, in preference to me; no putting me up in a corner in all assemblies, she considers her husband as the first person. Sir W. I am impatient to see her.

Lord P. But don't expect a fine lady with bigh feathers, and the et cætera of an eastern concubine you will see a modest plain English woman, with a cap on her head, a kerchief on her neck, and a gown of our own manufacture.

Sir W. My friend, Norberry, what a contrast must there be between Lady Priory and the ladies in this house!

Lord P. Have you ladies in this house?

Mr. N. Don't be alarmed; they are both single, and can give Lady Priory no ideas concerning the marriage state.

Lord P. Are you sure of that? Some single women are more informed than their friends believe. Mr. N. For these ladies, notwithstanding a few (what you would call) excesses, I will answer.

Lord P. Well, then, I and my wife will be with you about nine in the evening; you know we go to bed at ten.

Mr. N. But remember, you bring your own servants to wait on you at five in the morning.

Lord P. I shall bring but one; my old servant, Oliver, who knows all iny customs so well, that I never go anywhere without him.

Mr.N. And is that old servant your valet still? Lord P. No; he is now a kind of gentleman in waiting. I have had no employment for a valet since I married: my wife, for want of dissipation, has not only time to attend upon herself, but upon me. Do you think I could suffer a clumsy man to tie on my neckcloth, or comb out my hair, when the soft, delicate, and tender hands of my wife are at my command? [Exit. Sir W. After this amiable description of a woman, how can I endure to see her, whom reason bids me detest, but whom nature still

Mr. N. Here she comes; and her companion in folly along with her.

Sir W. There's another woman! that Lady Mary Raffle! How can you suffer such people in your house?

Mr. N. She is only on a visit for a few months; she comes every winter, as her family and mine have long been intimately connected.

Sir W. Let us go, let us go. I can't bear the sight of them. (Going.)

Mr. N. Stay, and for once behave with politeness and good-humour to your daughter, do; and I dare venture my life, she will neither insult nor treat you with disrespect. You know you always begin first.

Sir W. Have not I a right to begin first?

Mr. N. But that is a right of which she is igno

Enter LADY MARY RAFFLE and MISS DORRILLON. Miss D. They are gone. Thank heaven, they are gone out of this room, for I expect a dozen visitors: and Mr. Norberry looks so gloomy upon me, he puts me out of spirits; while that Mr. Mandred's peevishness is not to be borne.

Lady M. Be satisfied; for you were tolerably severe upon him this morning, in your turn.

Miss D. Why, I am vexed, and I don't like to be found fault with in my best humour, much less when I have so many things to tease me.

Lady M. What are they?

Miss D. I have now lost all my money, and all my jewels, at play; it is almost two years since I have received a single remittance from my father; and Mr. Norberry refuses to advance me a shilling more. What I shall do to discharge a debt which must be paid either to-day or to-morrow, heaven knows! Dear Lady Mary, you could not lend me a small sum, could you?

Lady M. Who, I? My dear creature, it was the very thing I were going to ask of you; for when you have money, I know no one so willing to disperse it among her friends.

Miss D. Am not I? I protest I love to part with my money; for I know with what pleasure I receive it myself, and like to see that joy sparkle ia another's eye which has so often brightened my own. But last night ruined me! I must have money somewhere. As you can't assist me, I must ask Mr. Norberry for his carriage, and immediately go in search of some friend that can lend me four, or five, or six, or seven hundred pounds. But the worst is, I have lost my credit; is not that dreadLady M. Yes, yes; I know what it is. [ful? Miss D. What will become of me?

Lady M. Why don't you marry, and throw all your misfortunes upon your husband? Miss D. Why don't you marry? for you have as many to throw.

Lady M. But not so many lovers who would be willing to receive the load. I have no Sir George Evelyn with ten thousand pounds a-year; no Mr. Bronzely.

Miss D. If you have not now, you once had; for I am sure Bronzely once paid his addresses to you. Lady M. And you have the vanity to suppose you took him from me?

Miss D. Silence! Reserve your anger to defend, and not to attack me. We should be allies by the common ties of poverty; and 'tis time to arm, for here's the enemy.

Re-enter SIR WILLIAM DORRILLON, with MR. NORBERRY.

Sir W. They are here still. (To Mr. N.) Miss D. I have been waiting here, Mr. Norberry, to ask a favour of you. Will you be so kind as to lend me your carriage for a couple of hours?

Mr. N. Mr. Mandred (pointing to Sir W.) has just asked me for it to take him into the city.

Lady M. Oh! Mr. Mandred will give it up to Miss Dorrillon, I am sure: he can defer his busi

ness till to-morrow.

Sir W. No, madam; she may as well put off her's. I have money to receive, and I can't do it. Miss D. I have money to pay, and I can't do it. Lady M. If one is going to receive, and the other to pay money, I think the best way is for you to go together; and, then, what deficiency there is on one side, the other may supply.

Miss D. Will you consent, Mr. Mandred? Come, do; and I'll be friends with you.

Sir W. (Aside.) She'll be friends with me!
Miss D. Will you?

Sir W. No.

Miss D. Well, I certainly can ask a favour of Mr. Mandred, better than I can of any person in the Mr. N. Why so, Maria? [world.

Miss D. Because, instead of pain, I can see it gives him pleasure to refuse me.

Sir W. I never confer a favour, of the most trivial kind, where I have no esteem.

Miss D. Nor would I receive a favour, of the most trivial kind, from one who has not liberality

to esteem me.

Mr. N. Come, Miss Dorrillon, do not grow serious; laugh as much as you please, but say nothing that

Sir W. From who, then, can you ever receive favours, except from the vain, the idle, and the depraved? from those whose lives are passed in begging them of others?

Miss D. They are the persons who know best how to bestow them; for my part, had I not sometimes felt what it was to want a friend, I might never have had humanity to be the friend of another. Enter a Servant.

Serv. Sir George Evelyn. [Exit. Mr. N. And pray, my dear, whose friend have

you ever been?

Enter SIR GEORGE EVELYN. Not Sir George Evelyn's, I am sure; and yet he, of all others, deserves your friendship most.

Miss D. But friendship will not content him: as soon as he thought he had gained that

Sir G. He aspired to the supreme happiness of your love.

Miss D. Now you talk of supreme happiness, have you provided tickets for the fete on Thursday? Sir G. I have; provided you have obtained Mr. Norberry's leave to go.

Mr. N. That I cannot grant.

Miss D. Nay, my dear sir, do not force me to go without it.

Sir W. Would you dare?