Sir John, My lady Restless! My lady Restless! What can you say for yourself now?

Lady Rest. What can I say for myself, sir John?

Sir John. Ay, madam! this picture-
Lady Rest. Yes, sir, that picture!
Sir John. Will be evidence-

Lady Rest. Of your shame, sir John. Sir John. Of my shame! 'Tis very true what she says: yes, madam, it will be an evidence of my shame I feel that but too sensibly. But, ou your part

Lady Rest. You own it then, do you? Sir John. Own it! I must own it, madam; though confusion cover me, I must own it: it is what you have deserved at my hands.

Lady Rest. I deserve it, sir John! Find excuses if you will. Cruel, cruel man! To make me this return at last. I cannot bear it. Oh! oh!-[Cries.]-Such black injustice!

Sir John. You may weep; but your tears are lost they fall without effect. I now renounce you for ever. This picture will justify me to the wide world; it will shew what a base woman you have been.

Lady Rest. What does the man mean? Sir John. The picture of your gallant, madam! The darling of your amorous hours, who gratifies your luxurious appetites abroad, and

Lady Rest. Scurrilous wretch! Oh! sir, you are at your old stratagem, I find: recrimination, you think, will serve your turn.

Sir John. It is a pity, you know, madam, that a woman should be tied to a man for life, even though she has a mortal hatred for him.

Lady Rest. Artful hypocrite!

Sir John. That she cannot change her husband as she does her ear-rings or her gloves.

Lady Rest. Sir John, this is your old device: this won't avail you.

Sir John. Had the original of this fallen to your lot, you could kiss the picture for ever.You can gloat upon it, madam; glue your very lips to it.

Lady Rest. Shallow artifice!

Sir John. With him you could be for ever happy.

Lady Rest. This is all in vain, sir John.

Sir John. Had such a dear, dear man fallen to your lot, instead of the brute, the monster-Am I a monster? I am; and you have made me so. The world shall know your infamy.

Lady Rest. Oh! Brave it out, sir; brave it out to the last; harmless, innocent man! You have nothing to blush for; nothing to be ashamed of; you have no intrigues, no private amours abroad. I have not seen any thing, not I.

Sir John. Madam, I have seen, and I now see, your paramour.

Lady Rest. That air of confidence will be of great use to you, sir. You have no convenient to

Sir John. 'Sdeath! that's unlucky-she will turn it against me! [Aside. Lady Rest. You are in confusion, are you, sir? But why should you? You meant no harm'You are safe with me, my dear-Will you step into my house, my love? Yes, sir, you would fain bring her into my very house.

Sir John. My lady Restless, this evasion is mean and paltry. You beheld a young lady in distress.

Lady Rest. I know it; and you, tender-hearted man, could caress her out of mere compassion you could gaze wantonly out of charity; from pure benevolence of disposition, you could convey her to some convenient dwelling. Oh! sir John, sir John!

me,

Sir John. Madam, this well-acted passionLady Rest. Don't imagine she has escaped

sir.

Rob. Sir!

Sir John. You know whose picture it is: I know you do. Well! well! who-who-who is it?

tell.

Rob. Upon my word, sir, it is more than I can

Sir John. Not know! I am convinced you do. So, own the truth: don't be a villain; don't.

Rob. As I am an honest man, sir

Sir John. Be an honest man, then, and tell me. Did you never see such a smooth-faced, fiery-eyed, warm-complexioned, taper young fellow here about my house?

Rob. Never, sir.

'Madam,

'My lady Conquest being gone into the country for a few days, I have judged it proper to 'send a speedy answer to yours, and to assure you, for your peace of mind, that you need not entertain the least suspicion of Marmalet, my lady's woman. She has lived some years in my 'family, and I know her by experience to be an honest, trusty girl, incapable of making mis'chief between your ladyship and sir John. 'I have the honour to be,

Well!

Rob. Believe me, sir John, I never sawSir John. I'll add your child's life. Come, speak out-your own life, your wife's life, and your child's! now! now! a lease for three lives! Now, Robert!

Rob. As I hope for mercy, I never saw any such a gentleman!

Sir John. Robert, Robert, you are bribed by my wife.

Rob. No; as I am a sinner, sir.

Sir John. And the worst of sinners you will be, if you are a confederate in this plot against my peace and honour. Reflect on that, Robert.

Enter a Footman.

Foot. Pray, does not sir John Restless live somewhere hereabout?

Sir John. He does, friend; what is your business with him?

[Aside.

Foot. My business is with his lady. Sir John. I guessed as much. Foot. I have a letter here for my lady Restless, sir.

Sir John. A letter for my lady!-from whom, pray?

Foot. From my lord Conquest.

Sir John. My lord Conquest! very well, friend: you may give the letter to me. I am sir John Restless that is my house. Let me have the letter: I will take care of it.

Foot. I was ordered to deliver it into my lady's own hand.

Sir John. The devil you was! I must have the letter. I'll buy it of the rascal. [Aside.] Here, take this for your trouble, friend, [Gives him money.] and I'll take care of the letter.

Foot. I humbly thank your honour. [Exit. Sir John. Now, now, now; let me see what this is. Now, my lady Restless; now false one, now. [Reads.]

that is to say, she will discover nothing against my lady Restless! for her peace of mind, he lets madam know all this, too! She may go on boldly now; my lady Conquest is gone into the country, Marmalet is trusty, and my lord has given her the most speedy notice. Very well! very well! proofs thicken upon proofs. Shall I go directly and challenge his lordship?- -No-nothat won't do. Watch him closely, that will do better. If I could have a word in private with the maid-Robert, Robert, come hither! Step to my lord Conquest's-but with caution proceed-inquire there for Marmalet, the maid. Rob. I know her, sir. Sir John. He knows her!

Rob. She visits our Tattle, sir.

[Aside.

Sir John. Visits our Tattle!-it is a plain case. [Aside.] Inquire for that girl, but with caution: tell her to meet me privately; unknown to any body; in the dusk of the evening; in the BirdCage Walk, yonder.

Rob. I will, sir.

Sir John. And don't let Tattle see her. Tattle has engaged her in her mistress's intcrest. I see how it is. Don't let any of my servants see her: go directly, Robert. Now shall I judge what regard you have for me. But, hark ye: come hither! a word with you. Should it be known that this girl converses with me: should my lady have the least item of it, they will be upon their guard. Let her come wrapped up in darkness: concealed from every observer, with a mask on. Ay, let it be with a mask.

Rob. A mask, sir John? Won't that make her be remarked the more!

Sir John. No, no; let her come masked; I will make every thing sure. Robert, bring this about for me, and I am your friend for ever.

Rob. I will do my endeavour, sir. [Exit Ron. Sir John. I'll now take a turn round the Park, and try if I can find the minion this picture belongs to. [Exit SIR Jons.

Enter BEVERLEY and BELLMONT. Ber. Yes; they had almost surprised us: bar

Bev. And did you so?

Bel. And did you so? How can you ask such a question? Sir, says I, I must see the lady home; and off I marched, arm in arm, with her, my father bawling after me, and I bowing to him, 'Sir, your humble servant, I wish you a good morning, sir.'-He continued calling out: I kissed my hand to him; and so, we made our escape. Bev. And where have you left Clarissa? Bel. At home; at your house.

Bev. Well! and do you both continue in the same mind? is to-morrow to be your weddingday?

Bel. Now are you conjuring up a thousand horrid fancies to torment yourself. But don't be alarmed, my dear Beverley. I shall leave you your Belinda, and content myself with the honour of being your brother-in-law.

Bev. Sir, the honour will be to me-But uneasy!-ha, ha!- -no-no— -I am not uneasy, nor shall I ever be so again.

Sir John. Not yet, not yet; nobody like it as yet. Ila! who is that hovering about my house? -If that should be he now!-I'll examine him nearer-Pray, sir-what the devil shall I say? -Pray, sirBel. Sir!

Sir John. I beg pardon for troubling you, sir; but, pray what o'clock is it by your watch? Bel. By my watch, sir!—I'll let you know in a moment.

Sir John. Let me examine him now

[Looks at him, and then at the picture. Bel. Egad, I am afraid my watch is not right: it must be later. [Looking at his watch,

Sir John. It is not like him.

Bev. Bellmont! Another word with you. Sir John. Here comes another; they are all swarming about my house.

Bev. I have 'seen her; I have seen Belinda, my boy: she will be with Clarissa in the Park immediately after dinner, you rogue.

Sir John. I want to see his face; this may be the original.

Bev. Her father has been rating her in bis

you dine with us at the club?

Ber. With all my heart: I'll attend you. Bel. That's right; let us turn towards the Mall, and saunter there till dinner.

Bev. No; I can't go that way yet. I must inquire how Belinda does, and what her father said to her. I have not seen her since we parted in the morning.

Bel. And now, according to custom, you will make her an apology for leaving her, when there was an absolute necessity for it, and you'll fall to an explanation of circumstances, that require no explanation at all, and refine upon things, and torment yourself and her into the bargain.

Bev. Nay, if you begin with your raillery, I am off your servant; a l'honneur. [Exit BEV. Bel. Alone.] Poor Beverley! Though a hand

will settle every thing.

Sir John. I'll walk round him. [Sings.] Loll, toll, loll!-[Looks at him.]-ha! it has his air. [Sings.] Loll, toll, loll,-and it has his eye! Loll toll, loll,[Walks to and fro.

Bev. Prithee, Bellmont, don't be such a dang ling lover, but consummate at once, for the sake of your friend.

Sir John. It has his nose, for all the world. Bel. Do you spirit your sister up to keep her resolution, and to-morrow puts you out of all pain.

Sir John. Loll, toll, loll!—it has his complexion; the same glowing, hot, amorous complexion. [Sings, and looks uneasy.

Bev. Who is this gentleman?
Bel. An odd fellow he seems to be.

Sir John. Loll, toll, loll-it has his shoulders. Loll, toll, loll-Ay, and I fancy the mole upon the cheek, too. I wish I could view him nearer : lolk, toll, loll!

Bel. He seems mad, I think. Where are his keepers?

Sir John. Begging your pardon, sir-Pray [Looking at the picture.]-Pray, sir, can you tell whether we shall have a Spanish war?

Bev. Not I truly, sir. [To BELLMONT.] Here is a politician out of his senses.

Bel. He has been talking to me, too: he is too well dressed for a poet.

Bev. Not, if he has had a good subscription. Sir John. He has the mole, sure enough.

ment?

Sir John. The picture, sir- -Po!- a mere daub.

Bev. A motive of curiosity, sir

Sir John. It is not worth your seeing. I wish you a good day.

Bev. I shall take it as a favour.

Sir John. A paltry thing. I have not a moment to spare; my family is waiting dinner. Sir, I wish you a good morning.

[Runs into his house. Bev. Death and fire! Bellmont, my picture! Bel. Oh! no-no such thing.

Bev. But I am sure of it. If BeliudaBel. What, relapsing into suspicion again! Bev. Sir, I have reason to suspect. She slights me, disdains me, treats me with contempt.

Bel. But I tell you, that unhappy temper of yours-Prithec, man, leave teasing yourself, and let us adjourn to dinner.

Bev. No, sir; I shan't diue at all. I am not

well.

Bel. Ridiculous! how can you be so absurd? I'll bett you twenty pounds, that is not your pic

ture.

Bev. Done; I take it.

Bel. With all my heart; and I'll tell you more; if it be yours, I will give you leave to be as jealous of her as you please. Come, now let us adjourn.

Bev. I attend you. In the evening we shall know the truth. If it be that I gave Belinda, she is false, and I am miserable. [Exeunt.

SIR JOHN. [Peeping after them.]

Sir John. There he goes! there he goes! the destroyer of my peace and happiness!-——I'll follow him, and make sure that he has given me the right name; and then, my lady Restless, the mine is sprung, and I have done with you for ever.

Exit.

SCENE I.-The former Scene continues.

Enter BELINDA and CLARISSA, Belin. BUT have you really fixed every thing, Clarissa?

Cla. Positively, and to-morrow morning makes me his.

Belin. To-morrow morning!

Cla. Yes, to-morrow morning, I release Mr Bellmont from his fetters, and resign my person to him.

Belin. Why, that is what we poor women, after all the victories of our charms, all the triumphs of our beauty, and all the murders of our eyes, must come to at last.

der to see you most heartily jealous of him in the end.

Belin. Jealous!-Oh Heavens !--jealous indeed!

Cla. Well, I say no more. As to my brother. here he comes, and let him speak for himself.

Enter BEVERLEY and BELLMONT.

Bel. Well argued, sir: you will have it your own way, and I give up the point. Ladies, your most obedient. I hope we have not transgressed our time?

Belin. Not in the least; you are both very exact. True as the dial to the sun.

Belin. Very true, Clarissa; and I don't know but you are a heroine equal in fame to any of them, nay, superior: for your scheme, I take it, is not to unpeople the world.

Cla. Prithee, don't talk so wildly. To tell you the truth, now that I have settled the affair, I begin to be alarmed at what I have done. Belin. Oh dear, dear affectation! Cla. Actually now, positively, I am terrified to death.

Belin. To be sure:-our sex must play its tricks, and summon up all its fantastic train of doubts and fears. But courage, my dear; don't be frightened; for the same sex within that heart of yours will urge you on, and never let you be at rest, till you have procured yourself a tyrant for life.

Cla. A tyrant, Belinda! I think more generously of Mr Bellmont, than to imagine he will usurp to himself an ill use of his power.

Belin. To deal candidly, I am of your opinion. But tell me now, am not I a very good girl, to resign such a man to you?

Cla. Why, indeed, I must confess the obligation.

Belin. Ay! but to resign him for one whose temper does not promise that I shall live under so mild a government?

Cla. How do you mean?

be

Bel. There again now! you two are going to commence wrangling lovers once more. Apropos, Belinda-now, Beverley, you shall see so good, madam, as to let me see this gentleman's picture.

Belin. His picture! what can you want it for? You shall have it. [Searching her pocket. Bel. Now, Beverley, do you confess how wrong you have been?"

Bev. Why, I begin to see my mistake. Say not a word to her she'll never forgive me, if you discover my infirmity.

[Apart. here. [Searches. Bel. You have been sad company, on account of this strange suspicion.

Belin. It is not in that pocket: it must be

Bev. I own it; let it drop; say no more.

[Aside.

Belin. Well, I protest and vow-Where can it be? Come, gentlemen, this is some trick of yours: you have it among ye. Mr Bellmont, Mr Beverley, pray return it to me.

Bev. No, nadam, it is no trick of ours.

[Angrily Belin. As I live and breathe, I have not got it! Bee. What think you now, Bellmont?

Bel. She'll find it presently, man; don't shew your humours: be upon your guard; you'll undo yourself else. Clarissa, shall you and I saunter down this walk?

mony.

Bel. I'll tell you presently: let us step this [Exit with CLARISSA.

way.

Bev. This odious picture! how she expresses it! Belin. You may look grave, sir, but I have it