Rob. There is no persuading him to his own [Erit ROB. sion in this world? Yes, Robert, I married her |-there-there-there, the thing is evident: you for love. When first I saw her, I was not so may go in, Robert. much struck with her beauty, as with that air of Rob. Indeed, sir, I—————— an ingenuous mind that appeared in her counte- Sir John. Go in, I say; go in. nance; her features did not so much charm me with their symmetry, as that expression of sweet-good. ness, that smile, that indicated affability, modesty, and compliance. But, honest Robert, I was deceived: I was not a month married, when I saw her practising those very smiles at her glass: I saw through the artifice; plainly saw there was nothing natural in her manner, but all forced, all studied, put on with her head-dress. I was alarmed; I resolved to watch her from that moment, and I have seen such things! Rob. Upon my word, sir, I believe you wrong her, and wrong yourself you build on groundless surmises; you make yourself unhappy, and my lady, too; and, by being constantly uneasy, and never shewing her the least love, you'll forgive me, sir-you fill her mind with strange picions, and so the mischief is done. Sir John. Suspicions, Robert? Sir John. Gone towards the Horse Guards! My head aches; my forehead burns; I am cutting my horns. Gone towards the Horse Guards! I'll pursue her thither; if I find her, the time, the place, all will inform against her. Sir John! Sir John! you were a madman to marry such a wo[Erit. man. Enter BEVERLEY and BELLMONT, at opposite sides. Bev. Ha! My dear Bellmont? A fellow sufferer in love is a companion well met. Bel. Beverley, I rejoice to see you. Bev. Well! I suppose the same cause has sus-brought us both into the Park: both come to sigh our amorous vows in the friendly gloom of yonder walk. Belinda keeps a perpetual war of love and grief, and hope and fear in my heart: and let me see--[Lays his hand on BELLMONT'S breast.]-how fares all here? I fancy my sister is a little busy with you? Rob. Yes, sir; strange suspicions! My lady finds herself treated with no degree of tender ness; she infers that your inclinations are fixed elsewhere, and so she is become-you will pardon my blunt honesty-she is become downright jealous-as jealous as yourself, sir. Bel. Busy! She makes a perfect riot there.Not one wink the whole night. Oh! Clarissa, her form so animated! Her eyes so that she loves you freely and sincerely. Sir John. Oh! Robert, you are little read in the arts of women; you little know the intrica- Bev. Prithee! truce; I have not leisure to atcies of their conduct; the mazes through which tend to her praise: a sister's praise, too! the they walk, shifting, turuing, winding, running in-greatest merit I could ever see in Clarissa is, to devious paths, but tending all through a labyrinth into the temple of Venus. You cannot see, that all her pretences to suspect me of infidelity, are merely a counter-plot to cover her own loose designs. It is but a gauze covering, though; it is seen through, and only serves to shew her guilt the more. Bel. And, to be even with you, sir, your Belinda! upon my soul, notwithstanding all your lavish praises, her highest perfection, in my mind, is her sensibility to the merit of my friend. Bev. Oh, Bellmont! Such a girl! But tell me honestly, now, do you think she has ever betrayed the least regard for me? Bel. How can you, who have such convincing proofs, how can you ask such a question? That uneasiness of yours, that inquietude of mind— Bev. Prithee, don't fix that character upon Rob. Upon my word, sir John, I cannot seeSir John. No, Robert; I know you cannot.Her suspicions of me all make against her; they are female stratagems; and yet, it is but too true, that she still is near my heart. Oh! Robert, Robert! When I have watched her at a play or elsewhere; when I have counted her oglings, Bel. It is your character, my dear Beverley : and her whisperings, her stolen glances, and her instead of enjoying the object before you, you artful leer, with the cunning of her sex, she has are ever looking back to something past, or conpretended to be as watchful of me: dissembling,jecturing about something to come, and are your false, deceitful woman! Rob. And vet, I dare assure you Sir John. No more; I am not to be deceived; Sir John. I am the best judge of that: which way did she go? Rob. Across the Park, sir; that way, towards the Horse Guards. Sir John. Towards the Horse Guards! There me. own self-tormentor. Bev. No, no, no: don't be so severe: I hate the very notion of such a temper: the thing is, when a man loves tenderly, as I do, solicitude and anxiety are natural; and, when Belinda's father opposes my warmest wishes Bel. Why, yes; the good Mr Blandford is willing to give her in marriage to me. Ber. The senseless old dotard! Bel. Thank you for the compliment! And my father, the wise sir William Beliniont on his hands, for we two have been agreeing what havock he has made with us. Bev. Is a tyrannical, positive, headstrongBel. There again I thank you. But, in short, the old couple, Belinda's father and mine, have Cla. Yes; but we are but in a kind of fool's paboth agreed upon the match. They insist upon radise here: all our schemes are but mere castlecompliance from their children; so that, accord- building, which your father, Mr Bellmont, and, ing to their wise heads, I am to be married off-my dear Belinda—yours, too, are most obstinatehand to Belinda, and you and your sister, poor Clarissa, are to be left to shift for yourselves. Bev. Grace was in all her steps; heaven in her eye; in every gesture dignity and love. Belin. A poetical reception, truly! But cannot your passion inspire you to a composition of your own, Mr Beverley? Bev. It inspires me with sentiments, madam, which I cannot find words to express. Suckling, Waller, Landsdown, and all our dealers in loveverses, give but a faint image of a heart touched like mine. Belin. Poor gentleman! What a terrible taking you are in! But, if the sonneteers cannot give an image of you, sir, have you had recourse to a painter, as you promised me? Bev. I have, Belinda, and here-here is the humble portrait of your adorer. Belin. [Takes the picture.]-Well! there is a likeness; but, after all, there is a better painter than this gentleman, whoever he be. Bev. A better! Now she is discontented![Aside.]-Where, madam, can a better be found? If money can purchase him- Belin. Oh! sir, when he draws for money, he never suceeeds. But, when pure inclination prompts him, then his colouring is warm indeed. He gives a portrait that endears the original. Bev. Such an artist is worth the Indies! Belin. You need not go so far to seek him: he has done your business already. The limner I mean, is a certain little blind god, cailed Love, and he has stamped such an impression of you here Bev. Madam, your most obedient: and I can tell you, that the very same gentleman has been at work for you too. Bel. [Who had been talking apart with CLARISSA.-Oh! he has had a world of business up ly determined to destroy. Bel. Why, as you say, they are determined that I shall have the honour of Belinda's hand, in the country-dance of matrimony. Belin. Without considering that I may like another partner better. Bev. And without considering that I, forlorn as I am, and my sister, there, who is as well inclined to a matrimonial game of romps as any girl in Christendom, must both of us sit down, and bind our brows with willow, in spite of our strongest inclinations to mingle in the groupe. Belin. But we have planned our own happiness, and, with a little resolution, we shall be successful in the end, I warrant you. Clarissa, let us take a turn this way, and leave that love-sick pair to themselves: they are only fit company for each other, and we may find wherewithal to entertain ourselves. Cla. Let us try: turn this way. Bel. Are you going to leave us, Clarissa ? Cla. Only just sauntering into this side-walk : we sha'nt lose one another. Belin. You are such a tender couple! you arc not tired, I see, of saying pretty soft things to each other. Well, well! take your own way. Cla. And, if I guess right, you are glad to be left together? Belin. Who, I? Cla. Yes, you; the coy Belinda! Belin. Not I truly: let us walk together. Cla. No, no; by no means: you shall be indulged. Adieu! we shall be within call. [Exeunt BEL. and CLA. Bev. My sister is generously in love with Bellmont: I wish Belinda would act as openly towards me. [Aside. Belin. Well, sir! Thoughtful! I'll call Mr Bellmont back, if that is the case. Bev. She will call him back. Bev. Have I done any thing to offend you? Bev. I should have been of the party last night; I own I should; it was a sufficient inducement to me that you was to be there; it was my fault, and you, I see, are piqued at it. Belin. I piqued! Bev. I see you are; and the company per-pretation of my words and actions cannot be imceived it last night. I have heard it all: in mere proper. resentment you directed all your discourse to Mr Bellmont. Belin. If I did, it was merely accidental. Bev. No, it was deliberately done: forgive my rash folly in refusing the invitation: I meant no manner of harm. Belin. Who imagines you did, sir ? Bev. I beg your pardon, Belinda : you take offence too lightly. Belin. Ha, ha! what have you taken into your head now? This uneasiness is of your own making: I have taken nothing ill, sir. Bev. You could not but take it ill; but by all that's amiable about you, I meant not to incur your displeasure: forgive that abrupt answer I sent: I should have made a handsomer apology. Belin. Apology! you was engaged, was not you? Bev. I said so; I own it, and beg your pardon Belin. Beg my pardon! for what? IIa, ha! Belin. Ha, ha! can you think I see any thing in your message to be offended at, sir? Bev. I was wrong: I beg your pardon. Where you were concerned, I own I should have expressed myself with more delicacy, than those hasty words- -I am engaged, and can't wait upon you to-night. I should have told you that my heart was with you, though necessity dragged me another way: this omission you resented. I could learn, since, what spirits you were in the the whole evening, though I enjoyed nothing in your absence. I could hear the sallies of your wit, the sprightliness of your conversation, and on whom your eyes were fixed the whole night. Belin. They were fixed upon Mr Bellmont, you think? Bev. Ay! and fixed with delight upon him, negociating the business of love before the whole company. Belin. Upon my word, sir, whoever is your author, you are misinformed. You alarm me with these fancies, and you know I have often told you, that you are of too refining a temper: you create for yourself imaginary misunderstandings, and then are ever entering into explanations. But this watching for intelligence, from the spies and misrepresenters of conversation, betrays strong symptoms of jealousy. I would not be married to a jealous man for the world. va Bev. Now she's seeking occasion to break off. [Aside.]-Jealousy, madam, can never get admission into my breast. I am of too generous a temper: a certain delicacy I own I have; I lue the opinion of my friends, and, when there are circumstances of a doubtful aspect, I am glad to set things in their true light. And if I do so with others, surely with you, on whom my happiness depends, to desire a favourable inter Belin. But these little humours may grow up, and gather into the fixed disease of jealousy at last. [LADY RESTLESS crosses the stage, and rings a bell at the door.] And there now-there goes a lady who is a victim to her own fretful imagination. Bev. Who is the lady, pray? Belin. My lady Restless. Walk this way, and I will give you her whole character. I am not acquainted with her ladyship, but I have heard much of her. This way. [Exeunt BELINDA and BEVERLEY. Lady Rest. [Ringing at the door.] What do these servants mean? There is something going forward here. I will be let in, or I will know the reason why. [Rings again.] But, in the mean time, sir John can let any body he pleases out at the street-door: I'll run up the steps here, and observe. [Exit. TATTLE opens the door, MARMALET follows her. Tat. Who rung this hell? I don't see any body; and yet I am sure the bell rung. Well, Mrs Marmalet, you will be going, I see? Mar. Yes, Mrs Tattle; I am obliged to leave you. I'll step across the Park, and I shall soon reach Grosvenor-Square. When shall I see you at our house? Tat. Heaven knows when I shall be able to get out: my lady leads us all such lives! I wish I had such another place as you have of it. Mar. I have nothing to complain of. Tat. No, that you have not: when shall I get such a gown as that you have on, by my lady? She will never fling off such a thing, and give it to a poor servant! Worry, worry, worry herself, and every body else, too. an acquaintance of mine, madam; as good a kind of body as any at all. Lady Rest. Oh! very fine, mistress! you bring your creatures after the vile man, do you? Mar. I assure you, madam, I am a very honest girl. Lady Rest. Oh! I dare say so. Where did you get that gown? Mur. La, madam! I came by it honestly; my lady Conquest gave it to me. I live with my lady Conquest, madam. Lady Rest. What a complexion she has! How long have you lived in London? Mar. Three years, madam. Lady Rest. In London three years with that complexion! it can't be perhaps, she is painted: all these creatures paint. You are all so many painted dolls. [Rubs her face with a white handkerchief] No, it does not come off. So, Mrs Tattle, you bring fresh country girls here to my house, do you? Tat. Upon my credit, madam Lady Rest. Don't tell me! I see through this affair. Go you about your business, mistress, and let me never see you about my doors again: go, go your ways. Mar. Lord, madam! I shan't trouble your house. Mrs Tattle, a good-day. Here's a deal to-do, indeed! I have as good a house as hers to go to, whatever she may think of herself. [Exit. Lady Rest. There, there, there! see there! she goes off in a huff! the way with them all. Ay! I see how it is, Tattle: you false, ungrateful-that gown was never given her by a woman; she had that from sir John. Where is sir John? Tat. Sir John an't at home, madam. will have it in our marriage articles, that I must not be plagued with your suspicions. Bev. I subscribe, madam. : Belin. I will have no inquiries where I am going to visit: no following me from place to place and if we should chance to meet, and you should perceive a man of wit, or a pretty fellow, speaking to me, I will not have you fidgetting about on your chair, knitting your brow, and looking at your watch- My dear, is it not time to go home? my love, the coach is waiting :and, then, if you are prevailed upon to stay, I will not have you converse with a Yes, sir,' and a 'No, sir,' for the rest of the evening, and then wrangle with me in the carriage all the way home, and not be commonly civil to me for the rest of the night. I, positively, will have none of this. Bev. Agreed, madam; agreed Belin. And you shan't tell me you are going out of town, and then steal privately to the play, or to Ranelagh, merely to be a spy upon me. I positively will admit no curiosity about my letters. If you were to open a letter of mine, I should never forgive you. I do verily believe, if you were to open my letters, I should hate you. Bev. I subscribe to every thing you can ask. You shall have what female friends you please; lose your money to whom you please; dance with what beau you please; ride out with whom you please; go to what china-shop you please; and, in short, do what you please, without my attempting to bribe your footmen, or your maid, for secret intelligence. Belin. Oh, lud! Oh, lud! that is the very strain of jealousy. Deliver me! there is my father yonder, and sir William Bellmont with him. Fly this instant! fly, Mr Beverly, down that Lady Rest. Where is he? Where is he gone? walk; any where. When did he go out? Tat. I really don't know, madam. Lady Rest. Tattle, I know you fib, now. But I'll sift this to the bottom. I'll write to my lady Conquest to know the truth about that girl, that was here but now. Tat. You will find I told you truth, madam. Lady Rest. Very well, Mrs Pert. I'll go, and write this moment. Send Robert, to give me an account of his master. Sir John, sir John, you will distract me. [Exeunt. Re-enter BELINDA and BEVERLEY. Belin. Ay! but that quickness, that extreme sensibility, is what I am afraid of. I positively would not have a jealous husband for the world. Bev. By Heaven! no earthly circumstance shall ever make me think injuriously of you. Jealousy! ha, ha, ha! it is the most ridiculous passion! ha, ha! Belin. You may laugh, sir; but I know your over refining temper too well; and I absolutely Bev. You promise, then― Belin. Don't talk to me now: what would you be at? I am yours, and only yours, unalterably so. Fly! begone! leave me this moment. Bev. I obey: I am gone. [Exit. Belin. Now, they are putting their wise heads together to thwart all my schemes of happiness but love, imperious love, will have it otherwise. Enter MR BLANDFORD and SIR WILLIAM BELLMONT. Bland. Sir William, since we have agreed upon every thing Sir Wil. Why yes, Mr Blandford, I think every thing is settled. Bland. Why, then, we have only to acquaint the young people with our intentions, and so conclude the affair without delay. Sir Wil. That is all, sir. Bland. As to my girl, I don't minl her non sense about Beverley: she must do as I will have her. Sir Wil. And my son, too; he must follow my directions. As to his telling me of his love for Clarissa, it is all a joke with me. Children must do as their parents will have them. Bland. Ay, so they must; and so they shall. Hey! here is my daughter. So, Belinda! Well, my girl, sir William and I have agreed, and you are to prepare for marriage; that's all. Belin. With Mr Beverley, sir? Belin. You know you encouraged him yourself, sir. Bland. Well, well! I have changed my mind on that head: my friend, sir William, here, offers you his son. Do as I advise you have a care, Belinda, how you disobey my commands. Belin. But, sir--- Bland. But, madam! I must, and will be obeyed. You don't like him, you say: but I like him, and that's sufficient for you. Sir Wil. And so it is, Mr Blandford. If my son pretended to have a will of his own, I should let him know to the contrary. Belin. And can you, sir William, against our inclination, force us both? [Faints in his arms, and drops the picture. Sir John. She is fallen into a fit. Would my servants were in the way! LADY RESTLESS, at her window. Lady Rest. Where can this barbarous man be [Lay his hand to her cheek. Sir John. Her eyes open-how lovely they look! Lady Rest. Traitor! Sir John. Her cheek begins to colour. Well, young lady, how fare you now, my dear? Lady Rest. My dear, too! -- Belin. Heavens! where am I?Sir John. Repose yourself awhile, or will you step into my house ? Lady Rest. No, truly, shan't she. Vile man! but I will spoil your sport. I will come down to you directly, and flash confusion in your face. [Exit from above. Sir John. Where do you live, madam? Belin. In Queen's-square, sir, by the side of the Park. Sir John. I will wait upon you: trust yourself with me. You look much better, now.Lean on my arm. There, there, I will conduct you. [Exeunt. Enter LADY RESTLESS. Bland. Hold your tongue, Belinda; don't provoke me. What makes you from home! Go your ways back directly, and settle your mind.I tell you, once for all, I will have my own way. Come, sir William, we will step to the lawyer's chambers. Go home, Belinda, and be observant of my commands. Come, sir William. What did you say? To BELINDA.] You mutiny, do you? Don't provoke me. You know, Belinda, I am an odd sort of man, when provoked. Look ye here: mind what I say; I won't reason with Lady Rest. Now, I'll make one among ye.you about the matter; my power is absolute, How! Fled! Gone! Which way? Is not that and, if you offer to rebel, you shall have no hus-he, yonder? No-he went into my house, I dare band at all with my consent. I'll cut you off say, as I came down stairs. Tattle, Tattle! Rowith a shilling; I'll see you starve; beg an alms; bert! Will nobody answer? live miserable; die wretched: in short, suffer any calamity without the least compassion from me. If I find you an undutiful girl, I cast you off for ever. So there's one word for all. [Exit: SIR WILLIAM follows him. Belin. What will become of me? his inhumanity overcomes me quite-I can never consent: the very sight of this picture is enough to forbid it. Oh! Beverley, you are master of my heart. I'll go this instant-and-Heavens! I can scarce move. I am ready to faint. Enter SIR JOHN. Sir John. No tidings of her far or near. Enter TATTLE. Where is sir John? Tat. La! Madam, how should I know? Lady Rest. To be sure you will say so. I'll |