THE QUEEN. (continued 2)

Enter Courtall, and seizes Kitty's Hand.

Court. Now!

Kitty. 'Tis pity to go so soon.

Court. Perhaps I may bring you back, my Angel——but go now, you must.

[Exit.] [Music.]

Doricourt and Letitia come forward.

Dor. By Heavens! I never was charm'd till now.—English beauty—French vivacity—wit—elegance. Your name, my Angel!—tell me your name, though you persist in concealing your face.

Let. My name has a spell in it.

Dor. I thought so; it must be Charming.

Let. But if reveal'd, the charm is broke.

Dor. I'll answer for its force.

Let. Suppose it Harriet, or Charlotte, or Maria, or—

Dor. Hang Harriet, and Charlotte, and Maria—the name your Father gave ye!

Let. That can't be worth knowing, 'tis so transient a thing.

Dor. How, transient?

Let. Heav'n forbid my name should be lasting till I am married.

Dor. Married! The chains of Matrimony are too heavy and vulgar for such a spirit as yours.——The flowery wreaths of Cupid are the only bands you should wear.

Let. They are the lightest, I believe: but 'tis possible to wear those of Marriage gracefully.——Throw 'em loosely round, and twist 'em in a True-Lover's Knot for the Bosom.

Dor. An Angel! But what will you be when a Wife?

Let. A Woman.—If my Husband should prove a Churl, a Fool, or a Tyrant, I'd break his heart, ruin his fortune, elope with the first pretty Fellow that ask'd me—and return the contempt of the world with scorn, whilst my feelings prey'd upon my life.

Dor. Amazing! [Aside] What if you lov'd him, and he were worthy of your love?

Let. Why, then I'd be any thing—and all!—Grave, gay, capricious—the soul of whim, the spirit of variety—live with him in the eye of fashion, or in the shade of retirement——change my country, my sex,—feast with him in an Esquimaux hut, or a Persian pavilion—join him in the victorious war-dance on the borders of Lake Ontario, or sleep to the soft breathings of the flute in the cinnamon groves of Ceylon—dig with him in the mines of Golconda, or enter the dangerous precincts of the Mogul's Seraglo——cheat him of his wishes, and overturn his empire to restore the Husband of my Heart to the blessings of Liberty and Love.

Dor. Delightful wildness! Oh, to catch thee, and hold thee for ever in this little cage!

[Attempting to clasp her.

Let. Hold, Sir! Though Cupid must give the bait that tempts me to the snare, 'tis Hymen must spread the net to catch me.

Dor. 'Tis in vain to assume airs of coldness——Fate has ordain'd you mine.

Let. How do you know?

Dor. I feel it here. I never met with a Woman so perfectly to my taste; and I won't believe it form'd you so, on purpose to tantalize me.

Let. This moment is worth a whole existence. [Aside.]

Dor. Come, shew me your face, and rivet my chains.

Let. To-morrow you shall be satisfied.

Dor. To-morrow! and not to-night?

Let. No.

Dor. Where then shall I wait on you to-morrow?——Where see you?

Let. You shall see me in an hour when you least expect me.

Dor. Why all this mystery?

Let. I like to be mysterious. At present be content to know that I am a Woman of Family and Fortune. Adieu!

Enter Hardy.

Har. Adieu! Then I am come at the fag end. [Aside.]

Dor. Let me see you to your carriage.

Let. As you value knowing me, stir not a step. If I am follow'd, you never see me more.

[Exit.

Dor. Barbarous Creature! She's gone! What, and is this really serious?—am I in love?——Pho! it can't be——O Flutter! do you know that charming Creature?

Enter Flutter.

Flut. What charming Creature? I pass'd a thousand.

Dor. She went out at that door, as you enter'd.

Flut. Oh, yes;—I know her very well.

Dor. Do you, my dear Fellow? Who?

Flut. She's kept by Lord George Jennett.

Har. Impudent Scoundrel! [Aside.]

Dor. Kept!!!

Flut. Yes; Colonel Gorget had her first;—then Mr. Loveill;—then—I forget exactly how many; and at last she's Lord George's. [Talks to other Masks.]

Dor. I'll murder Gorget, poison Lord George, and shoot myself.

Har. Now's the time, I see, to clear up the whole. Mr. Doricourt!—I say—Flutter was mistaken; I know who you are in love with.

Dor. A strange rencontre! Who?

Har. My Letty.

Dor. Oh! I understand your rebuke;—'tis too soon, Sir, to assume the Father-in-law.

Har. Zounds! what do you mean by that? I tell you that the Lady you admire, is Letitia Hardy.

Dor. I am glad you are so well satisfied with the state of my heart.—I wish I was.

[Exit.

Har. Stop a moment.—Stop, I say! What, you won't? Very well—if I don't play you a trick for this, may I never be a Grand-father! I'll plot with Letty now, and not against her; aye, hang me if I don't. There's something in my head, that shall tingle in his heart.—He shall have a lecture upon impatience, that I foresee he'll be the better for as long as he lives.

[Exit.

Saville comes forward with other Masks.

Sav. Flutter, come with us; we're going to raise a laugh at Courtall's.

Flut. With all my heart. "Live to Live," was my Father's motto: "Live to Laugh," is mine.

[Exit.

SCENE——Courtall's. Enter Kitty and Courtall.

Kitty. Where have you brought me, Sir George? This is not our home.

Court. 'Tis my home, beautiful Lady Frances! [Kneels, and takes off his Mask.] Oh, forgive the ardency of my passion, which has compell'd me to deceive you.

Kitty. Mr. Courtall! what will become of me?

Court. Oh, say but that you pardon the Wretch who adores you. Did you but know the agonizing tortures of my heart, since I had the felicity of conversing with you this morning——or the despair that now—[Knock.]

Kitty. Oh! I'm undone!

Court. Zounds! my dear Lady Frances. I am not at home. Rascal! do you hear?——Let no body in; I am not at home.

Serv. [Without] Sir, I told the Gentlemen so.

Court. Eternal curses! they are coming up. Step into this room, adorable Creature! one moment; I'll throw them out of the window if they stay three.

[Exit Kitty; through the back scene.

Enter Saville, Flutter, and Masks.

Flut. O Gemini! beg the Petticoat's pardon.—Just saw a corner of it.

1st Mask. No wonder admittance was so difficult. I thought you took us for Bailiffs.

Court. Upon my soul, I am devilish glad to see you—but you perceive how I am circumstanc'd. Excuse me at this moment.

2d Mask. Tell us who 'tis then.

Court. Oh, fie!

Flut. We won't blab.

Court. I can't, upon honour.—Thus far—She's a Woman of the first Character and Rank. Saville, [takes him aside] have I influence, or have I not?

Sav. Why, sure, you do not insinuate—

Court. No, not insinuate, but swear, that she's now in my bed-chamber:—by gad, I don't deceive you.—There's Generalship, you Rogue! Such an humble, distant, sighing Fellow as thou art, at the end of a six-months siege, would have boasted of a kiss from her glove.——I only give the signal, and—pop!—she's in my arms.

Sav. What, Lady Fran——

Court. Hush! You shall see her name to-morrow morning in red letters at the end of my list. Gentlemen, you must excuse me now. Come and drink chocolate at twelve, but—

Sav. Aye, let us go, out of respect to the Lady:—'tis a Person of Rank.

Flut. Is it?—Then I'll have a peep at her. (Runs to the door in the back Scene.)

Court. This is too much, Sir. (Trying to prevent him.)

1st Mask. By Jupiter, we'll all have a peep.

Court. Gentlemen, consider—for Heaven's sake——a Lady of Quality. What will be the consequences?

Flut. The consequences!—Why, you'll have your throat cut, that's all—but I'll write your Elegy. So, now for the door! [Part open the door, whilst the rest hold Courtall.]——Beg your Ladyship's pardon, whoever you are: [Leads her out.] Emerge from darkness like the glorious Sun, and bless the wond'ring circle with your charms. [Takes off her Mask.]

Sav. Kitty Willis! ha! ha! ha!

Omnes. Kitty Willis! ha! ha! ha! Kitty Willis!

1st Mask. Why, what a Fellow you are, Courtall, to attempt imposing on your friends in this manner! A Lady of Quality—an Earl's Daughter—Your Ladyship's most obedient.——Ha! ha! ha!

Sav. Courtall, have you influence, or have you not?

Flut. The Man's moon-struck.

Court. Hell, and ten thousand Furies, seize you all together!

Kitty. What! me, too, Mr. Courtall? me, whom you have knelt to, prayed to, and adored?

Flut. That's right, Kitty; give him a little more.

Court. Disappointed and laugh'd at!——

Sav. Laugh'd at and despis'd. I have fullfilled my design, which was to expose your villainy, and laugh at your presumption. Adieu, Sir! Remember how you again boast of your influence with Women of Rank; and, when you next want amusement, dare not to look up to the virtuous and to the noble for a Companion.

[Exit, leading Kitty.

Flut. And, Courtall, before you carry a Lady into your bed-chamber again, look under her mask, d'ye hear?

[Exit.

Court. There's no bearing this! I'll set off for Paris directly.

[Exit.

END of the FOURTH ACT.

A C T V. SCENE I——Hardy's. Enter Hardy and Villers. Villers.

Whimsical enough! Dying for her, and hates her; believes her a Fool, and a Woman of brilliant Understanding!

Har. As true as you are alive;—but when I went up to him last night, at the Pantheon, out of downright good-nature to explain things——my Gentleman whips round upon his heel, and snapt me as short as if I had been a beggar-woman with six children, and he Overseer of the Parish.

Vill. Here comes the Wonder-worker—[Enter Letitia.] Here comes the Enchantress, who can go to Masquerades, and sing and dance, and talk a Man out of his wits!——But pray, have we Morning Masquerades?

Let. Oh, no—but I am so enamour'd of this all-conquering Habit, that I could not resist putting it on, the moment I had breakfasted. I shall wear it on the day I am married, and then lay it by in spices—like the miraculous Robes of St. Bridget.

Vill. That's as most Brides do. The charms that helped to catch the Husband, are generally laid by, one after another, 'till the Lady grows a downright Wife, and then runs crying to her Mother, because she has transform'd her Lover into a downright Husband.

Har. Listen to me.—I ha'n't slept to-night, for thinking of plots to plague Doricourt;—and they drove one another out of my head so quick, that I was as giddy as a goose, and could make nothing of 'em.——I wish to goodness you could contrive something.

Vill. Contrive to plague him! Nothing so easy. Don't undeceive him, Madam, 'till he is your Husband. Marry him whilst he possesses the sentiments you labour'd to give him of Miss Hardy—and when you are his Wife——

Let. Oh, Heavens! I see the whole—that's the very thing. My dear Mr. Villers, you are the divinest Man.

Vill. Don't make love to me, Hussey.

Enter Mrs. Racket.

Mrs. Rack. No, pray don't—for I design to have Villers myself in about six years.—There's an oddity in him that pleases me.—He holds Women in contempt; and I should like to have an opportunity of breaking his heart for that.

Vill. And when I am heartily tired of life, I know no Woman whom I would with more pleasure make my Executioner.

Har. It cannot be——I foresee it will be impossible to bring it about. You know the wedding wasn't to take place this week or more—and Letty will never be able to play the Fool so long.

Vill. The knot shall be tied to-night.——I have it all here, (pointing to his forehead:) the licence is ready. Feign yourself ill, send for Doricourt, and tell him you can't go out of the world in peace, except you see the ceremony performed.

Har. I feign myself ill! I could as soon feign myself a Roman Ambassador.——I was never ill in my life, but with the tooth-ach—when Letty's Mother was a breeding I had all the qualms.

Vill. Oh, I have no fears for you.—But what says Miss Hardy? Are you willing to make the irrevocable vow before night?

Let. Oh, Heavens!—I—I—'Tis so exceeding sudden, that really——

Mrs. Rack. That really she is frighten'd out of her wits—lest it should be impossible to bring matters about. But I have taken the scheme into my protection, and you shall be Mrs. Doricourt before night. Come, [to Mr. Hardy] to bed directly: your room shall be cramm'd with phials, and all the apparatus of Death;——then heigh presto! for Doricourt.

Vill. You go and put off your conquering dress, [to Letty] and get all your aukward airs ready—And you practise a few groans [to Hardy.]—And you—if possible—an air of gravity [to Mrs. Racket]. I'll answer for the plot.

Let. Married in jest! 'Tis an odd idea! Well, I'll venture it.

[Exit Letitia and Mrs. Racket.

Vill. Aye, I'll be sworn! [looks at his watch] 'tis past three. The Budget's to be open'd this morning. I'll just step down to the House.——Will you go?

Har. What! with a mortal sickness?

Vill. What a Blockhead! I believe, if half of us were to stay away with mortal sicknesses, it would be for the health of the Nation. Good-morning.—I'll call and feel your pulse as I come back.

[Exit.

Har. You won't find 'em over brisk, I fancy. I foresee some ill happening from this making believe to die before one's time. But hang it—a-hem!—I am a stout man yet; only fifty-six—What's that? In the last Yearly Bill there were three lived to above an hundred. Fifty-six!——Fiddle-de-dee! I am not afraid, not I.

[Exit.

SCENE II.——Doricourt's. Doricourt in his Robe-de-Chambre. Enter Saville.

Sav. Undress'd so late?

Doric. I didn't go to bed 'till late—'twas late before I slept—late when I rose. Do you know Lord George Jennett?

Sav. Yes.

Doric. Has he a Mistress?

Sav. Yes.

Doric. What sort of a creature is she?

Sav. Why, she spends him three thousand a year with the ease of a Duchess, and entertains his friends with the grace of a Ninon. Ergo, she is handsome, spirited, and clever. [Doricourt walks about disordered.] In the name of Caprice, what ails you?

Doric. You have hit it—Elle est mon Caprice—The Mistress of Lord George Jennett is my caprice—Oh, insufferable!

Sav. What, you saw her at the Masquerade?

Doric. Saw her, lov'd her, died for her—without knowing her—And now the curse is, I can't hate her.

Sav. Ridiculous enough! All this distress about a Kept Woman, whom any man may have, I dare swear, in a fortnight—They've been jarring some time.

Doric. Have her! The sentiment I have conceived for the Witch is so unaccountable, that, in that line, I cannot bear her idea. Was she a Woman of Honour, for a Wife, I cou'd adore her—but, I really believe, if she should send me an assignation, I should hate her.

Sav. Hey-day! This sounds like Love. What becomes of poor Miss Hardy?

Doric. Her name has given me an ague. Dear Saville, how shall I contrive to make old Hardy cancel the engagements! The moiety of the estate which he will forfeit, shall be his the next moment, by deed of gift.

Sav. Let me see—Can't you get it insinuated that you are a dev'lish wild fellow; that you are an Infidel, and attached to wenching, gaming, and so forth?

Doric. Aye, such a character might have done some good two centuries back.——But who the devil can it frighten now? I believe it must be the mad scheme, at last.—There, will that do for the grin?

Sav. Ridiculous!—But, how are you certain that the Woman who has so bewildered you, belongs to Lord George?

Doric. Flutter told me so.

Sav. Then fifty to one against the intelligence.

Doric. It must be so. There was a mystery in her manner, for which nothing else can account. [A violent rap.] Who can this be? [Saville looks out.]

Sav. The proverb is your answer—'tis Flutter himself. Tip him a scene of the Mad-man, and see how it takes.

Doric. I will—a good way to send it about town. Shall it be of the melancholy kind, or the raving?

Sav. Rant!—rant!—Here he comes.

Doric. Talk not to me who can pull comets by the beard, and overset an island!

Enter Flutter.

There! This is he!—this is he who hath sent my poor soul, without coat or breeches, to be tossed about in ether like a duck-feather! Villain, give me my soul again!

Flut. Upon my soul I hav'n't got it. [Exceedingly frightened.]

Sav. Oh, Mr. Flutter, what a melancholy sight!——I little thought to have seen my poor friend reduced to this.

Flut. Mercy defend me! What's he mad?

Sav. You see how it is. A cursed Italian Lady—Jealousy—gave him a drug; and every full of the moon——

Doric. Moon! Who dares talk of the Moon? The patroness of genius—the rectifier of wits—the——Oh! here she is!—I feel her—she tugs at my brain—she has it—she has it——Oh!

[Exit.

Flut. Well! this is dreadful! exceeding dreadful, I protest. Have you had Monro?

Sav. Not yet. The worthy Miss Hardy—what a misfortune!

Flut. Aye, very true.—Do they know it?

Sav. Oh, no; the paroxysm seized him but this morning.

Flut. Adieu! I can't stay. [Going in great haste.]

Sav. But you must. (holding him) Stay, and assist me:—perhaps he'll return again in a moment; and, when he is in this way, his strength is prodigious.

Flut. Can't indeed—can't upon my soul.

[Exit.

Sav. Flutter—Don't make a mistake, now;—remember 'tis Doricourt that's mad.

[Exit.

Flut. Yes—you mad.

Sav. No, no; Doricourt.

Flut. Egad, I'll say you are both mad, and then I can't mistake.

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE III.——Sir George Touchwood's. Enter Sir George, and Lady Frances.

Sir Geo. The bird is escaped—Courtall is gone to France.

Lady Fran. Heaven and earth! Have ye been to seek him?

Sir Geo. Seek him! Aye.

Lady Fran. How did you get his name? I should never have told it you.

Sir Geo. I learnt it in the first Coffee-house I entered.—Every body is full of the story.

Lady Fran. Thank Heaven! he's gone!—But I have a story for you—The Hardy family are forming a plot upon your Friend Doricourt, and we are expected in the evening to assist.

Sir Geo. With all my heart, my Angel; but I can't stay to hear it unfolded. They told me Mr. Saville would be at home in half an hour, and I am impatient to see him. The adventure of last night——

Lady Fran. Think of it only with gratitude. The danger I was in has overset a new system of conduct, that, perhaps, I was too much inclined to adopt. But henceforward, my dear Sir George, you shall be my constant Companion, and Protector. And, when they ridicule the unfashionable Monsters, the felicity of our hearts shall make their satire pointless.

Sir Geo. Charming Angel! You almost reconcile me to Courtall. Hark! here's company (stepping to the door.) 'Tis your lively Widow—I'll step down the back stairs, to escape her.

[Exit Sir George.

Enter Mrs. Racket.

Mrs. Rack. Oh, Lady Frances! I am shock'd to death.—Have you received a card from us?

Lady Fran. Yes; within these twenty minutes.

Mrs. Rack. Aye, 'tis of no consequence.——'Tis all over—Doricourt is mad.

Lady Fran. Mad!

Mrs. Rack. My poor Letitia!—Just as we were enjoying ourselves with the prospect of a scheme that was planned for their mutual happiness, in came Flutter, breathless, with the intelligence:—I flew here to know if you had heard it.

Lady Fran. No, indeed—and I hope it is one of Mr. Flutter's dreams.

Enter Saville.

A-propos; now we shall be informed. Mr. Saville, I rejoice to see you, though Sir George will be disappointed: he's gone to your lodgings.

Sav. I should have been happy to have prevented Sir George. I hope your Ladyship's adventure last night did not disturb your dreams?

Lady Fran. Not at all; for I never slept a moment. My escape, and the importance of my obligations to you, employed my thoughts. But we have just had shocking intelligence—Is it true that Doricourt is mad?

Sav. So; the business is done. (Aside.) Madam, I am sorry to say, that I have just been a melancholy witness of his ravings: he was in the height of a paroxysm.

Mrs. Rack. Oh, there can be no doubt of it. Flutter told us the whole history. Some Italian Princess gave him a drug, in a box of sweetmeats, sent to him by her own page; and it renders him lunatic every month. Poor Miss Hardy! I never felt so much on any occasion in my life.

Sav. To soften your concern, I will inform you, Madam, that Miss Hardy is less to be pitied than you imagine.

Mrs. Rack. Why so, Sir?

Sav. 'Tis rather a delicate subject—but he did not love Miss Hardy.

Mrs. Rack. He did love Miss Hardy, Sir, and would have been the happiest of men.

Sav. Pardon me, Madam; his heart was not only free from that Lady's chains, but absolutely captivated by another.

Mrs. Rack. No, Sir—no. It was Miss Hardy who captivated him. She met him last night at the Masquerade, and charmed him in disguise—He professed the most violent passion for her; and a plan was laid, this evening, to cheat him into happiness.

Sav. Ha! ha! ha!—Upon my soul, I must beg your pardon; I have not eaten of the Italian Princess's box of sweetmeats, sent by her own page; and yet I am as mad as Doricourt, ha! ha! ha!

Mrs. Rack. So it appears—What can all this mean?

Sav. Why, Madam, he is at present in his perfect senses; but he'll lose 'em in ten minutes, through joy.—The madness was only a feint, to avoid marrying Miss Hardy, ha! ha! ha!—I'll carry him the intelligence directly. (Going.)

Mrs. Rack. Not for worlds. I owe him revenge, now, for what he has made us suffer. You must promise not to divulge a syllable I have told you; and when Doricourt is summoned to Mr. Hardy's, prevail on him to come—madness, and all.

Lady Fran. Pray do. I should like to see him shewing off, now I am in the secret.

Sav. You must be obeyed; though 'tis inhuman to conceal his happiness.

Mrs. Rack. I am going home; so I'll set you down at his lodgings, and acquaint you, by the way, with our whole scheme. Allons!

Sav. I attend you (leading her out.)

Mrs. Rack. You won't fail us?

[Exit Saville, and Mrs. Racket.

Lady Fran. No; depend on us.

[Exit.

SCENE IV.——Doricourt's. Doricourt seated, reading.

Doric. (flings away the book) What effect can the morals of Fourscore have on a mind torn with passion? (musing) Is it possible such a soul as her's, can support itself in so humiliating a situation? A kept Woman! (rising) Well, well—I am glad it is so—I am glad it is so!

Enter Saville.

Sav. What a happy dog you are, Doricourt! I might have been mad, or beggar'd, or pistol'd myself, without its being mentioned—But you, forsooth! the whole Female World is concerned for. I reported the state of your brain to five different women—The lip of the first trembled; the white bosom of the second heaved a sigh; the third ejaculated, and turned her eye—to the glass; the fourth blessed herself; and the fifth said, whilst she pinned a curl, "Well, now, perhaps, he'll be an amusing Companion; his native dullness was intolerable."

Doric. Envy! sheer envy, by the smiles of Hebe!——There are not less than forty pair of the brightest eyes in town will drop crystals, when they hear of my misfortune.

Sav. Well, but I have news for you:—Poor Hardy is confined to his bed; they say he is going out of the world by the first post, and he wants to give you his blessing.

Doric. Ill! so ill! I am sorry from my soul. He's a worthy little Fellow—if he had not the gift of foreseeing so strongly.

Sav. Well; you must go and take leave.

Doric. What! to act the Lunatic in the dying Man's chamber?

Sav. Exactly the thing; and will bring your business to a short issue: for his last commands must be, That you are not to marry his Daughter.

Doric. That's true, by Jupiter!—and yet, hang it, impose upon a poor fellow at so serious a moment!—I can't do it.

Sav. You must, 'faith. I am answerable for your appearance, though it should be in a strait waistcoat. He knows your situation, and seems the more desirous of an interview.

Doric. I don't like encountering Racket.—She's an arch little devil, and will discover the cheat.

Sav. There's a fellow!—Cheated Ninety-nine Women, and now afraid of the Hundredth.

Doric. And with reason—for that hundredth is a Widow.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.——Hardy's. Enter Mrs. Racket, and Miss Ogle.

Miss Ogle. And so Miss Hardy is actually to be married to-night?

Mrs. Rack. If her Fate does not deceive her. You are apprised of the scheme, and we hope it will succeed.

Miss Ogle. Deuce, take her! she's six years younger than I am. (Aside)—Is Mr. Doricourt handsome?

Mrs. Rack. Handsome, generous, young, and rich.——There's a Husband for ye! Isn't he worth pulling caps for?

Miss Ogle. I' my conscience, the Widow speaks as though she'd give cap, ears, and all for him. (Aside.) I wonder you didn't try to catch this wonderful Man, Mrs. Racket?

Mrs. Rack. Really, Miss Ogle, I had not time. Besides, when I marry, so many stout young fellows will hang themselves, that, out of regard to society, in these sad times, I shall postpone it for a few years. This will cost her a new lace—I heard it crack. (Aside.)

Enter Sir George, and Lady Frances.

Sir Geo. Well, here we are.—But where's the Knight of the Woeful Countenance?

Mrs. Rack. Here soon, I hope—for a woeful Night it will be without him.

Sir Geo. Oh, fie! do you condescend to pun?

Mrs. Rack. Why not? It requires genius to make a good pun—some men of bright parts can't reach it. I know a Lawyer who writes them on the back of his briefs; and says they are of great use—in a dry cause.

Enter Flutter.

Flut. Here they come!—Here they come!——Their coach stopped, as mine drove off.

Lady Fran. Then Miss Hardy's fate is at a crisis.—She plays a hazardous game, and I tremble for her.

Sav. (without) Come, let me guide you!—This way, my poor Friend! Why are you so furious?

Doric. (without) The House of Death—to the House of Death!

Enter Doricourt, and Saville.

Ah! this is the spot!

Lady Fran. How wild and fiery he looks!

Miss Ogle. Now, I think, he looks terrified.

Flut. Poor creature, how his eyes work!

Mrs. Rack. I never saw a Madman before—Let me examine him—Will he bite?

Sav. Pray keep out of his reach, Ladies—You don't know your danger. He's like a Wild Cat, if a sudden thought seises him.

Sir Geo. You talk like a Keeper of Wild Cats—How much do you demand for shewing the Monster?

Doric. I don't like this—I must rouse their sensibility. There! there she darts through the air in liquid flames! Down again! Now I have her——Oh, she burns, she scorches!—Oh! she eats into my very heart!

Omnes. Ha! ha! ha!

Mrs. Rack. He sees the Apparition of the wicked Italian Princess.

Flut. Keep her Highness fast, Doricourt.

Miss Ogle. Give her a pinch, before you let her go.

Doric. I am laughed at!

Mrs. Rack. Laughed at—aye, to be sure; why, I could play the Madman better than you.—There! there she is! Now I have her! Ha! ha! ha!

Doric. I knew that Devil would discover me. (Aside) I'll leave the house:——I'm covered with confusion. (Going.)

Sir Geo. Stay, Sir—You must not go. 'Twas poorly done, Mr. Doricourt, to affect madness, rather than fulfil your engagements.

Doric. Affect madness!—Saville, what can I do?

Sav. Since you are discovered, confess the whole.

Miss Ogle. Aye, turn Evidence, and save Yourself.

Doric. Yes; since my designs have been so unaccountably discovered, I will avow the whole. I cannot love Miss Hardy—and I will never——

Sav. Hold, my dear Doricourt! be not so rash. What will the world say to such——

Doric. Damn the world! What will the world give me for the loss of happiness? Must I sacrifice my peace, to please the world?

Sir Geo. Yes, every thing, rather than be branded with dishonour.

Lady Fran. Though our arguments should fail, there is a Pleader, whom you surely cannot withstand—the dying Mr. Hardy supplicates you not to forsake his Child.

Enter Villers.

Vill. Mr. Hardy requests you to grant him a moment's conversation, Mr. Doricourt, though you should persist to send him miserable to the grave. Let me conduct you to his chamber.

Doric. Oh, aye, any where; to the Antipodes—to the Moon—Carry me—Do with me what you will.

Mrs. Rack. Mortification and disappointment, then, are specifics in a case of stubbornness.—I'll follow, and let you know what passes.

[Exeunt Villers, Doricourt, Mrs. Racket, and Miss Ogle.

Flut. Ladies, Ladies, have the charity to take me with you, that I may make no blunder in repeating the story.

[Exit Flutter.

Lady Fran. Sir George, you don't know Mr. Saville.

[Exit Lady Frances.

Sir Geo. Ten thousand pardons—but I will not pardon myself, for not observing you. I have been with the utmost impatience at your door twice to-day.

Sav. I am concerned you had so much trouble, Sir George.

Sir Geo. Trouble! what a word!—I hardly know how to address you; I am distressed beyond measure; and it is the highest proof of my opinion of your honour, and the delicacy of your mind, that I open my heart to you.

Sav. What has disturbed you, Sir George?

Sir Geo. Your having preserved Lady Frances, in so imminent a danger. Start not, Saville; to protect Lady Frances, was my right. You have wrested from me my dearest privilege.

Sav. I hardly know how to answer such a reproach. I cannot apologize for what I have done.

Sir Geo. I do not mean to reproach you; I hardly know what I mean. There is one method by which you may restore peace to me; I cannot endure that my Wife should be so infinitely indebted to any man who is less than my Brother.

Sav. Pray explain yourself.

Sir Geo. I have a Sister, Saville, who is amiable; and you are worthy of her. I shail give her a commission to steal your heart, out of revenge for what you have done.

Sav. I am infinitely honoured, Sir George; but——

Sir Geo. I cannot listen to a sentence which begins with so unpromising a word. You must go with us into Hampshire; and, if you see each other with the eyes I do, your felicity will be complete. I know no one, to whose heart I would so readily commit the care of my Sister's happiness.

Sav. I will attend you to Hampshire, with pleasure; but not on the plan of retirement. Society has claims on Lady Frances, that forbid it.

Sir Geo. Claims, Saville!

Sav. Yes, claims; Lady Frances was born to be the ornament of Courts. She is sufficiently alarmed, not to wander beyond the reach of her Protector;—and, from the British Court, the most tenderly-anxious Husband could not wish to banish his Wife. Bid her keep in her eye the bright Example who presides there; the splendour of whose rank yields to the superior lustre of her Virtue.

Sir Geo. I allow the force of your argument. Now for intelligence!

Enter Mrs. Racket, Lady Frances, and Flutter.

Mrs. Rack. Oh! Heav'ns! do you know——

Flut. Let me tell the story——As soon as Doricourt—

Mrs. Rack. I protest you sha'n't—said Mr. Hardy——

Flut. No, 'twas Doricourt spoke first—says he—No, 'twas the Parson—says he——

Mrs. Rack. Stop his mouth, Sir George—he'll spoil the tale.

Sir Geo. Never heed circumstances—the result—the result.

Mrs. Rack. No, no; you shall have it in form.—Mr. Hardy performed the Sick Man like an Angel—He sat up in his bed, and talked so pathetically, that the tears stood in Doricourt's eyes.

Flut. Aye, stood—they did not drop, but stood.—I shall, in future, be very exact. The Parson seized the moment; you know, they never miss an opportunity.

Mrs. Rack. Make haste, said Doricourt; if I have time to reflect, poor Hardy will die unhappy.

Flut. They were got as far as the Day of Judgement, when we slipt out of the room.

Sir Geo. Then, by this time, they must have reached Amazement, which, every body knows, is the end of Matrimony.

Mrs. Rack. Aye, the Reverend Fathers ended the service with that word, Prophetically——to teach the Bride what a capricious Monster a Husband is.

Sir Geo. I rather think it was Sarcastically—to prepare the Bridegroom for the unreasonable humours and vagaries of his Help-mate.

Lady Fran. Here comes the Bridegroom of to-night.

Enter Doricourt and Villers.—Villers whispers Saville, who goes out.

Omnes. Joy! joy! joy!

Miss Ogle. If he's a sample of Bridegrooms, keep me single!—A younger Brother, from the Funeral of his Father, could not carry a more fretful countenance.

Flut. Oh!—Now, he's melancholy mad, I suppose.

Lady Fran. You do not consider the importance of the occasion.

Vill. No; nor how shocking a thing it is for a Man to be forced to marry one Woman, whilst his heart is devoted to another.

Mrs. Rack. Well, now 'tis over, I confess to you, Mr. Doricourt, I think 'twas a most ridiculous piece of Quixotism, to give up the happiness of a whole life to a Man who perhaps has but a few moments to be sensible of the sacrifice.

Flut. So it appeared to me.—But, thought I, Mr. Doricourt has travelled—he knows best.

Doric. Zounds! Confusion!—Did ye not all set upon me?—Didn't ye talk to me of Honour—Compassion—Justice?

Sir Geo. Very true—You have acted according to their dictates, and I hope the utmost felicity of the Married State will reward you.

Doric. Never, Sir George! To Felicity I bid adieu—but I will endeavour to be content. Where is my—I must speak it—where is my Wife?

Enter Letitia, masked, led by Saville.

Sav. Mr. Doricourt, this Lady was pressing to be introduced to you.

Dor. Oh! (Starting).

Let. I told you last night, you shou'd see me at a time when you least expected me—and I have kept my promise.

Vill. Whoever you are, Madam, you could not have arrived at a happier moment.—Mr. Doricourt is just married.

Let. Married! Impossible! 'Tis but a few hours since he swore to me eternal Love: I believ'd him, gave him up my Virgin heart—and now!—Ungrateful Sex!

Dor. Your Virgin heart! No, Lady——my fate, thank Heaven! yet wants that torture. Nothing but the conviction that you was another's, could have made me think one moment of Marriage, to have saved the lives of half Mankind. But this visit, Madam, is as barbarous as unexpected. It is now my duty to forget you, which, spite of your situation, I found difficult enough.

Let. My situation!—What situation?

Dor. I must apologise for explaining it in this company—but, Madam, I am not ignorant, that you are the companion of Lord George Jennet—and this is the only circumstance that can give me peace.

Let. I—a Companion! Ridiculous pretence! No, Sir, know, to your confusion, that my heart, my honour, my name is unspotted as her's you have married; my birth equal to your own, my fortune large—That, and my person, might have been your's.—But, Sir, farewell! (Going.)

Dor. Oh, stay a moment——Rascal! is she not——

Flut. Who, she? O Lard! no—'Twas quite a different person that I meant.—I never saw that Lady before.

Dor. Then, never shalt thou see her more. [Shakes Flutter.]

Mrs. Rack. Have mercy upon the poor Man!—Heavens! He'll murder him.

Dor. Murder him! Yes, you, myself, and all Mankind. Sir George—Saville—Villers—'twas you who push'd me on this precipice;—'tis you who have snatch'd from me joy, felicity, and life.

Mrs. Rack. There! Now, how well he acts the Madman!—This is something like! I knew he would do it well enough, when the time came.

Dor. Hard-hearted Woman! enjoy my ruin—riot in my wretchedness. [Hardy bursts in.]

Har. This is too much. You are now the Husband of my Daughter; and how dare you shew all this passion about another Woman?

Dor. Alive again!

Har. Alive! aye, and merry. Here, wipe off the flour from my face. I was never in better health and spirits in my life.—I foresaw t'would do—. Why, my illness was only a fetch, Man! to make you marry Letty.

Dor. It was! Base and ungenerous! Well, Sir, you shall be gratified. The possession of my heart was no object either with You, or your Daughter. My fortune and name was all you desired, and these—I leave ye. My native England I shall quit, nor ever behold you more. But, Lady, that in my exile I may have one consolation, grant me the favour you denied last night;—let me behold all that mask conceals, that your whole image may be impress'd on my heart, and chear my distant solitary hours.

Let. This is the most awful moment of my life. Oh, Doricourt, the slight action of taking off my Mask, stamps me the most blest or miserable of Women!

Dor. What can this mean? Reveal your face, I conjure you.

Let. Behold it.

Dor. Rapture! Transport! Heaven!

Flut. Now for a touch of the happy Madman.

Vill. This scheme was mine.

Let. I will not allow that. This little stratagem arose from my disappointment, in not having made the impression on you I wish'd. The timidity of the English character threw a veil over me, you could not penetrate. You have forced me to emerge in some measure from my natural reserve, and to throw off the veil that hid me.

Dor. I am yet in a state of intoxication—I cannot answer you.—Speak on, sweet Angel!

Let. You see I can be any thing; chuse then my character—your Taste shall fix it. Shall I be an English Wife?—or, breaking from the bonds of Nature and Education, step forth to the world in all the captivating glare of Foreign Manners?

Dor. You shall be nothing but yourself—nothing can be captivating that you are not. I will not wrong your penetration, by pretending that you won my heart at the first interview; but you have now my whole soul—your person, your face, your mind, I would not exchange for those of any other Woman breathing.

Har. A Dog! how well he makes up for past slights! Cousin Racket, I wish you a good Husband with all my heart. Mr. Flutter, I'll believe every word you say this fortnight. Mr. Villers, you and I have manag'd this to a T. I never was so merry in my life—'Gad, I believe I can dance. (Footing.)

Doric. Charming, charming creature!

Let. Congratulate me, my dear friends! Can you conceive my happiness?

Har. No, congratulate me; for mine is the greatest.

Flut. No, congratulate me, that I have escaped with life, and give me some sticking plaster—this wild cat has torn the skin from my throat.

Sir Geo. I expect to be among the first who are congratulated—for I have recovered one Angel, while Doricourt has gained another.

Har. Pho! pho! Don't talk of Angels, we shall be happier by half as Mortals. Come into the next room; I have order'd out every drop of my Forty-eight, and I'll invite the whole parish of St. George's, but what we'll drink it out—except one dozen, which I shall keep under three double locks, for a certain Christening, that I foresee will happen within this twelvemonth.

Dor. My charming Bride! It was a strange perversion of Taste, that led me to consider the delicate timidity of your deportment, as the mark of an uninform'd mind, or inelegant manners. I feel now it is to that innate modesty, English Husbands owe a felicity the Married Men of other nations are strangers to: it is a sacred veil to your own charms; it is the surest bulwark to your Husband's honour; and cursed be the hour—should it ever arrive—in which British Ladies shall sacrifice to foreign Graces the Grace of Modesty!

FINIS.

EPILOGUE.

Nay, cease, and hear me—I am come to scold— Whence this night's plaudits, to a thought so old? To gain a Lover, hid behind a Mask! What's new in that? or where's the mighty task? For instance, now—What Lady Bab, or Grace, E'er won a Lover—in her natural Face? Mistake me not—French red, or blanching creams, I stoop not to—for those are hackney'd themes; The arts I mean, are harder to detect, Easier put on, and worn to more effect;— As thus—— Do Pride and Envy, with their horrid lines, Destroy th' effect of Nature's sweet designs? The Mask of Softness is at once applied, And gentlest manners ornament the Bride. Do thoughts too free inform the Vestal's eye, Or point the glance, or warm the struggling sigh? Not Dian's brows more rigid looks disclose; And Virtue's blush appears, where Passion glows.

And you, my gentle Sirs, wear Vizors too; But here I'll strip you, and expose to view Your hidden features——First I point at you.}

That well-stuff'd waistcoat, and that ruddy cheek; That ample forehead, and that skin so sleek, Point out good-nature, and a gen'rous heart—— Tyrant! stand forth, and, conscious, own thy part: Thy Wife, thy Children, tremble in thy eye; And Peace is banish'd—when the Father's nigh. Sure 'tis enchantment! See, from ev'ry side The Masks fall off!—In charity I hide The monstrous features rushing to my view—— Fear not, there, Grand-Papa—nor you—nor you: For should I shew your features to each other, Not one amongst ye'd know his Friend, or Brother. 'Tis plain, then, all the world, from Youth to Age, Appear in Masks—Here, only, on the Stage, You see us as we are: Here trust your eyes; Our wish to please, admits of no disguise.

Of the Publisher may be had, By the same Author,

The Runaway, a Comedy. Albina, a Tragedy. Who's the Dupe? a Farce. The Maid of Arragon, a Poem, Part I.

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE The book cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain. Hyphenation in inconsistent throughout; missing punctuation and occasional missing spaces have been added. The errata have been incorporated. The spelling of character names has been harmonised. Overall, contemporary spellings have been retained; however, a small number of words have been modernised to prevent misunderstanding. One instance of "genus" was left unchanged, since it may well serve a purpose in furthering the characterisation. A section of publisher's advertising at the end was illegible and has been omitted. One instance of double typesetting (same word at end of one line and the beginning of the next) was corrected. Although there is occasional reference in the stage directions to "(the) Miss Ogles" it is clear from the context that the name is "Ogle" and only one character of that name is present, so the name was changed accordingly. At the end of the scene at Sir George's in Act 2, Mrs Racket exits twice in short order; this reflects the original. Three substantive changes were made and can be identified in the text by a grey dotted underline:

Mr. Doricourt, may be you take my Daughter for a Fool; but your are mistaken: she's a sensible Girl, as any in England. Mr. Doricourt, may be you take my Daughter for a Fool; but you are mistaken: she's a sensible Girl, as any in England.

Flut. On, every creature.—A Mask is nothing at all to me. Flut. Oh, every creature.—A Mask is nothing at all to me.

Is is true that Doricourt is mad? Is it true that Doricourt is mad?