ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE I.

The Paddock near Lady Walton's House—A View of the House at a distance, and partly moonlight.

Willoughby alone.

Willoughby. 'Tis past the hour Lady Waitfor't appointed—why does she delay? I cannot have mistaken the place—yonder's Lady Walton's house—Oh! 'would all were past, and Louisa safely mine! I hear a noise—by Heaven 'tis she! and with her all my happiness—I'll withdraw a while, and observe them.

[Retires.

Enter Lady Waitfor't and Louisa Courtney.

Louisa. My dear Lady Waitfor't, why do you loiter here? you cannot find your servants in this place—let us return to Lady Walton's.

Lady. No, no, they must be here,—I ordered them to wait in this very spot, to avoid confusion. What can have become of Willoughby?

[Aside.

Louisa. If you have the least sense of fear for yourself, or regard for me, I beg we may return to Lady Walton's.

Lady. No, no, I tell you I ordered William at the back gate, that he might conduct us through the paddock to our carriage; you know we might have been whole hours getting through the crowd the other way—do be a little patient, hav'n't I as much reason to be alarmed as yourself?

Louisa. Yes, but you have not the apprehension I have; I don't know why, but I am terrified beyond description.

Lady. Well, well, never fear; [Looking out.] Oh, yonder's Willoughby! now for the grand design! [Aside.] Louisa, if you'll wait here a moment I'll step to the next gate, and see if they are there;—they cannot escape us then.

Louisa. No, no, don't leave me;—I wouldn't stay by myself for the world.

Lady. Ridiculous! can't you protect yourself for an instant? must you be all your life watch'd like a baby in leading-strings? Oh! I am ashamed of you—only wait a moment, lest they pass by in my absence, and I'll return to you immediately.

Louisa. Well: don't stay.

Lady. Stay! what have you to be frightened at? I shall not be out of call;—besides, if there's any fear of a personal attack, may not I be as terrified as yourself? It isn't the first time, I'll assure you, but that's no matter;—show yourself a woman of spirit, and, at least, emulate one of my virtues.—Now, Willoughby, the rest is thine!

[Exit.

Willoughby comes forward.

Willoughby. Be not alarmed, Miss Courtney.

Louisa. Mr Willoughby!

Willoughby. Yes, madam; the man you most avoid.

Louisa. Tell me, sir, immediately, how, and by whose appointment, you came here?

Willoughby. By love, madam; the same passion that has prompted me to pursue you for years, now happily conducts me hither;—I come to lessen your fears, not to increase them.

Louisa. Then, leave me, sir, I can protect myself.

Willoughby. No, not till you have heard and pitied me; I have been long your suitor, and long scorned by you; you have treated me with indifference, and preferred my inferiors; how I have deserved all this, yourself can best explain, but, to prove all former cruelties are forgotten, I here offer you my hand, and, with it, my heart.

Louisa. Sir,—this is no time for hearing you on this subject; if you wish to oblige me, leave me.

Willoughby. No, not till I am answered;—years may elapse ere I shall have another opportunity like the present, therefore no time can be so well as now.

Louisa. Then I command you to leave me,—I will not be threatened into a compliance.

Willoughby. Look ye, Miss Courtney—I would avoid taking advantage of your situation—nay, start not—but if you persist in your contempt of me, I know not to what extremities passion may hurry me; I have every motive for redress, and, if you do not instantly give me your word, to prefer me to that beggar Neville, I may do that, my cooler sense would scorn.

Louisa. Beggar, sir!

Willoughby. Yes; and, were he not beneath my resentment, I'd tell you more;—but he is too poor—too—

Louisa. Hold, sir; did you resemble him, I might esteem, nay, adore you; but as you are, I loath, I despise, I defy you;—you take advantage of my situation!—Hear me, sir,—though not a friend is near,—though night opposes me, and Heaven deserts me, yet can I smile upon your menaces, and make you tremble, villain as you are.

Willoughby. Have a care, madam! another declaration like that, and I'll delay no longer;—I'll force you to my purpose.

Louisa. You dare not, on your life you dare not.

Willoughby. Nay, then—I am not to be terrified by threats,—[Lays hold of her.] all struggling is in vain; this moment gratifies my revenge,—away!

Louisa. Off,—let me go! Oh, help! help!

[As he is forcing her out, enter Floriville, half drunk.]

Flor. "Donne, donne, donne, dow." [Singing part of an Italian air.] Oh, this burgundy's a glorious liquor! hey-day! who have we here?

Louisa. Oh, sir! if you have any pity for an injured, helpless woman, assist one who never knew distress till now!

Flor. Go on, ma'am, go on—both damn'd drunk I perceive.

Louisa. Do not be deaf to my entreaties—do not desert me—

Flor. Go on, ma'am, go on—I love oratory in a woman.

Louisa. Gracious Heaven! how have I deserved all this? I see, sir, you avoid me. I see you are indifferent to my fate.

Flor. No, ma'am, you wrong me—but in Italy—observe—we always take these things coolly—now, sir, will you explain?

Willoughby. No, sir, I will not.

Flor. You will not?

Willoughby. No, sir, and I warn you not to listen to the wild ravings of a senseless woman—it may be better for you, sir.

Flor. Why so, Prince Prettiman?

Willoughby. No matter, sir, I will not be amused from my purpose.

Flor. You won't, old Pluto, won't you? then, ma'am, observe! you shall behold my mode of fighting—I'll kill him like a gentleman, and he shall die without a groan;—you'll be delighted, ma'am—I learnt it all in Italy.—Come, Belzebub, are you ready?

Willoughby. 'Sdeath! what can I do? he is drunk, perhaps I may disarm him.

Flor. Now, thou original sin, thou prince of darkness! come out; never let her see thy black infernal visage more, or by my life I'll pulverize you—you see, ma'am, no bad orator either—learnt it all in Italy.

Willoughby. Come on, sir.

Flor. Ay, now old Sysiphus, push home—but fight like a gentleman, if you can, for remember, there is a lady in company—observe, ma'am, observe; you won't see it again.

[They fight.—Floriville disarms Willoughby.]

Flor. What, vanquished, Tarquin? hah! hah! [Parrying up and down the stage by himself.]—You see, ma'am, you see!—Oh! Italy's your only country!—Now, ma'am, would you have me kill him here, "in Allegro," or postpone it, that you may have the pleasure of pinking him yourself, "in Penseroso?"

Louisa. [Coming near Floriville, and discovering him.] Floriville, my deliverer!—generous man!—No, sir, whatever are his crimes, do not kill him; his greatest punishment will be to live.

Flor. There, then, caitiff, take your sword, and, d'ye hear? retire;—that black front of thine offends the lady;—if you want another flourish, you will soon find Floriville—abscond.

Willoughby. Sir, you shall hear from me—distraction!

[Exit.

Flor. And now, my dear little angel, how can I assist you? I'm very sorry that I can't help it—I'm cursed drunk, and not proper company for a lady of your dignity,—but I won't affront you,—I mean to make myself agreeable, and if I do not—it is the fault of that place, [Pointing to his head.] and not of this, [Pointing to his heart.]

Louisa. Sir, your conduct has endeared you to me for ever, and while I live, your generosity and valour shall be engraven on my heart.

Flor. Gently, gently, have a care, make no declarations; if you are in love with me, as I suppose you are, keep it secret,—for at this moment you might raise a flame that would consume us both;—poor creature! how fond she is of me! any other time I would indulge her, but not now—[Looks at her sometime, then runs, and kisses her hand.]—Oh, you paragon!—"Angels must paint to look as fair as you."—[Goes from her again.]—I'll leave you, or, by Heaven, it will be all over with us.

Louisa. No, no, don't desert me! alas! I have no way left but to commit myself to your care—if I could bring him to recollect me, all would be safe. Mr Floriville, don't you know me?

Flor. No, 'would to Heaven I did.

Louisa. What, not Miss Courtney?

Flor. What, Louisa? my brother's idol?

Louisa. Alas! the very same.

Flor. Then may I die, if I don't get out of your debt before I leave you—where—where shall I conduct you?

Louisa. I know not—return to lady Waitfor't's again, I will not—I had rather be a wanderer all my life—to lady Walton's there is no excuse for returning, and I know no friend in Bath I dare intrude upon.—I have so high an opinion, Mr Floriville, of your honour, that, notwithstanding your present situation, there is no man on earth I would sooner confide in;—can you then think of any place where I may rest in safety for a few hours, and then I will set out for my uncle's in the country.

Flor. Indeed I cannot, I am a wanderer myself;—I have no home but what this gentleman is to purchase me [Taking out his purse.]—you cannot partake of that.

Louisa. Oh! what will become of me?

Flor. Let me see—I have it—I'll take her to my brother's;—she'll be safe there, and not a soul shall come near her.—Well, Miss Courtney,—I have recollected a place where I know you'll be safe—a friend's house, that will be as secure—nay, don't droop—in Italy we're never melancholy.

Louisa. Oh, Mr Floriville, to what a hazard has lady Waitfor't exposed me!—to her perfidy I owe it all—but yonder's that wretch again—pray let us begone.

Flor. Belzebub again,—no, no, we mustn't stir;—what! an angel fly from a devil? damme, I'll stay and crush him.

Louisa. Nay, sir, reflect,—'twere madness to remain.

Flor. 'Faith that's true; I believe it's braver to retire,—therefore, Tarquin, adieu; come, my best angel! I'll fight your battles, and if I don't sink all your enemies, may I never see Italy again as long as I live!

[Exeunt.

Enter Willoughby.

Willoughby. Ha! gone,—I am sorry for it—I would have seen them—lady Waitfor't has just left me, and treated me like her slave,—insulted and derided me; but I'll have done with her for ever,—I'll be her dupe no more;—she is now gone to Neville's lodgings, under pretence of pursuing Louisa, but, in fact, to see him, and prevent his leaving Bath;—this I will write to my lord, and then let him follow, and be witness of her infamy;—thus, I hope, I shall make some reparation for the wrongs I have committed, and prove at last I have some sense of virtue.

[Exit.

SCENE II.

Neville's Lodgings—A Closet in back Scene.—Two Chairs, and a Table, with Wine on it.—A knocking at the Door.

Enter Peter, reading a Card.

Peter. Vapid presents his compliments to his friend Neville; has thought of nothing but writing the epilogue for his friend's play since they parted; he has made great progress, and will wait on him to take his judgment on it in a few minutes. If the gentleman should come soon, I fear my master won't be at home to receive him.

[Knocks.—Peter opens the Door, and lets in Vapid.

Vapid. Well, here it is;—where's Neville?

Peter. Not within, sir.

Vapid. Yes, yes, here it is:—I must see him.

Peter. Sir, he's gone out.

Vapid. Gone out? impossible!

Peter. Impossible! it's very true, sir.

Vapid. Gone out! why, I've brought him the epilogue—the new epilogue to Mr What's-his-name's comedy; the very best thing I ever wrote in my life; I knew it would delight him.

Peter. Sir, he has been gone out above these two hours.

Vapid. Then he'll never forgive himself as long as he lives; why, it's all correct—all chaste! only one half line wanting at the end to make it complete.

Peter. Indeed, sir, it's very unfortunate.

Vapid. Unfortunate! I wanted to have heard him read it too; when another person reads it, one often hits on a thought that might otherwise have escaped; then, perhaps, he would have hit on that cursed half line, I have so long been working at.

Peter. Sir, if it is not impertinent, and you'd permit me to read it—

Vapid. You read it!

Peter. Yes, sir, if you'd allow me that honour.

Vapid. 'Faith, I should have no objection,—but wouldn't it lower one's dignity? No, no, Moliere used to read his plays to his servants, so I believe all's regular.—Come, sir, begin.

[Peter reading Epilogue.

Vapid. Stop—stop—I have it: not a word for your life; I feel it—it's coming on—the last line directly—quick! quick!

[Peter reads.

Peter. Here's something wanting, sir.

Vapid. I know it, say nothing—I have it—

[Walks backwards and forwards.

Oh, damn it! damn it! damn it!—that cursed half line!—I shall never accomplish it—all so chaste—all so correct,—and to have it marr'd for want of one half line,—one curst half line! I could almost weep for disappointment.

Peter. Never mind, sir, don't perplex yourself,—put in any thing.

Vapid. Put in any thing! why, 'tis the last line, and the epilogue must end with something striking, or it will be no trap for applause—no trap for applause, after all this fine writing!—Put in any thing!—what do you mean, sirrah?

Peter. Methinks this is a strange epilogue to a comedy—[Knock at the door.]—Perhaps this is my master—[Looks out.]—no, as I live, 'tis Mr Floriville and Miss Courtney! she mustn't on any account be seen by this gentleman.

Vapid. Well, who is it?—"The tyrant totters"—

Peter. Sir, it's a friend of my master's who has brought a lady with him—I'm sure you've too much gallantry to interrupt an amour; and, therefore, you'll be kind enough to get out of the way directly.

Vapid. Get out of the way! what the devil, in the middle of my composition?—"Die all, die nobly"—

Peter. Nay, sir, only step for a moment into this closet, and you shall be released,—now, pray, sir,—pray be prevailed on.

Vapid. Well, let me see—in this closet! why, here's china, zounds! would you put a live author in a china closet?

Peter. What can I do, sir? there is no way out but that door—get in here for an instant, and I'll show them into the library—now do, sir.

Vapid. Well, be brief then,—"Die all! die nobly!"—oh! oh! oh!

[Enters Closet, and Floriville and Louisa enter.

Flor. Hey-day!—my old acquaintance, Peter! where's my brother?

Peter. Sir, he has been out the whole evening.

Louisa. In the same house with Neville!—oh, Heavens!

Flor. Well, Miss Courtney, I hope now you are convinced of your safety.

Louisa. Yes, sir, but I would it were in any other place; lady Waitfor't, ere this, is in pursuit of me, and if she discovers me here, you know too well how much I have to dread.

[Knock at the Door.—Exit Peter.

Flor. Don't be alarm'd, there's nothing shall molest you.

Louisa. Oh, sir, you don't know the endless malice of lady Waitfor't—she will triumph in my misery, and till my lord is convinced of her duplicity, I see no hope of your brother's happiness, or my own.

Enter Peter.

Peter. Lady Waitfor't is below, inquiring for that lady, or my master.

Flor. For my brother?

Peter. Yes, sir, and my lord has sent to know if Mr Vapid, or her ladyship, have been here;—he was in bed, but on receiving a letter, got up, and will be here in an instant.

Louisa. For Heaven's sake, Mr Floriville, let me retire,—I cannot support the conflict.

Flor. Promise to recall your spirits, and you shall.

Louisa. What I can do I will.

Flor. Then know no apprehension, for, on my life, you shall not be disturbed.

[Leads her to the Door of the Library, and talks in dumb show.

Vapid. [From Closet.] Peter! Peter! can't you release me?

Peter. No, sir, don't move, you'll ruin every thing.

Vapid. Then give me that candle—I have pen and ink—I think I could finish my epilogue.

Peter. Here, sir.

[Giving Candle.

Vapid. That curst half line—"Die all"—

[Peter shuts him in.

Flor. So, now, the storm begins, and if I don't have some sport with the enemy—[Sits at Table, and begins drinking.]—here she comes.

Enter Lady Waitfor't.

Flor. Chairs, Peter, chairs,—Sit down, ma'am—sit down—you honour me exceedingly.

Lady. Where is your brother, sir? I insist on seeing him.

Enter Lord Scratch.

Lord. There she is!—in a man's lodgings at midnight—here's treatment!

Lady. My lord, I came here in search of Louisa, who has been betrayed from my power.

Lord. Look ye, my lady—read that letter, that's all; read that letter, and then say, if we sha'n't both cut a figure in the print shops.

Lady. [Taking Letter.] Ha! Willoughby's hand! [Reads.] Lady Waitfor't, (I have only time to tell you) is gone to Neville's lodgings, to meet one she has long had a passion for—follow her, and be convinced of her duplicity. Oh, the villain! well, my lord, and pray who is the man I come to meet?

Lord. Why, who should it be but the stage ruffian? if there was a sofa in the room, my life on't, he'd pop from behind it.—Zounds! that fellow will lay straw before my door every nine months!

Lady. This is fortunate.—[Aside.]—Well, sir, if I discover Louisa, I hope you'll be convinced I came here to redeem her, and not disgrace myself. Tell me, sir, immediately, where she is concealed.

[To Floriville.

Flor. Sit down, ma'am—sit down: drink, drink, then we'll talk over the whole affair—there is no doing business without wine; come, here's "The glory of gallantry"—I'm sure you'll both drink that.

Lady. No trifling, sir; tell me where she is concealed;—nay, then I'll examine the apartment myself—[Goes to Door of Library.]—the door lock'd! give me the key, sir.

Flor. [Drinking.] "The glory of gallantry, ma'am."

Lord. Hear me, sir, if the lady's in that apartment, I shall be convinced that you and your brother are the sole authors of all this treachery; if she is there, by the honour of my ancestors, she shall be Willoughby's wife to-morrow morning.

Flor. [Rising.] Shall she, my lord? Pray, were you ever in Italy?

Lord. Why, coxcomb?

Flor. Because, I'm afraid you've been bitten by a tarantula—you'll excuse me, but the symptoms are wonderfully alarming—There is a blazing fury in your eye—a wild emotion in your countenance, and a green spot—

Lord. Damn the green spot! open that door, and let me see immediately: I'm a peer, and have a right to look at any thing.

Flor. [Standing before the Door.] No, sir; this door must not be open'd.

Lord. Then I'll forget my peerage, and draw my sword.

Flor. [To Lady Waitfor't, who is going to interfere.] Don't be alarm'd, ma'am, I'll only indulge him for my own amusement—mere trout fishing, ma'am—

Enter Louisa, from the Apartment.

Louisa. Hold! I charge you, hold!—let not my unhappy fate be the source of more calamities.

Lord. 'Tis she herself:—My lady did not come to meet the madman.

Flor. By the lord, ma'am, you have ruined all.

Louisa. I know, sir, the consequences of this discovery, and I abide by them.—But what I have done, I can justify, and 'would to Heaven all here could do the same!

Flor. Indeed, I can't tell—I wish I was in Italy.

Lord. Mark me, madam,—nay, tears are in vain—to-morrow shall make you the wife of Willoughby; and he shall answer for your follies.—No reply, sir, [To Floriville, who is going to speak.] I wou'dn't hear the chancellor.

Lady. Now, who is to blame? Oh, virtue is ever sure to meet its reward!—Come to meet a mad poet, indeed!—My lord, I forgive you only on condition of your signing a contract to marry me to-morrow, and Louisa to Willoughby, at the same time.

Lord. I will, thou best of women!—draw it up immediately—and Neville shall starve for his treachery.

[Lady Waitfor't goes to the Table, and writes.

Louisa. [Falling at the feet of Lord Scratch.] Hear me, sir, not for myself, but for a wrong'd friend, I speak:—Mr Neville knows not of my concealment; on my honour, he is innocent:—if that lady's wrongs must be avenged, confine the punishment to me—I'll bear it, with patience bear it.

Lord. Let go!—let go, I say!—Lady Waitfor't, make haste with the contract.

Lady. It only waits the signature.—Now, my lord.

Flor. Look ye, uncle—she's the cause of all this mischief, and if you are not lost——

Lord. Out of my way!—O'd—noise and nonsense!—don't fancy yourselves in the House of Commons! we're not speaking twenty at a time. Here! give me the pen—I'll sign directly; and now—

[As he is going to sign, Vapid breaks the China in the Closet, and rushes out, with the Epilogue in his Hand.

Vapid. "Die all! die nobly! die like demi-gods!"—Huzza, huzza! 'tis done! 'tis past! 'tis perfect.

Flor. Huzza!—the poet at last; "Stop him who can!"

Lady. Confusion!—tell me, sir, immediately, what do you mean by this new insult?

Vapid. "Die all! die nobly! die like demi-gods!"—oh, it's glorious!—Ah, old Scratch, are you there?—Joy, joy! give me joy!—I've done your business! the work's past!—the labour's o'er, my boy!—"think of that, Master Brook—think of that!"

Lady. My lord, I am vilely treated.—I desire you'll insist on an explanation.

Flor. He can't speak, madam.

[All this time, my Lord is slowly walking away.

Lady. How! are you going to leave me, my lord?

Vapid. [Taking out his Common-place Book.] 'Faith this musn't be lost!—here's something worth observing.

[Exit Lord Scratch.

Lady. Oh, I shall burst with rage!—Mr Vapid, I desire you'll explain how you came in that closet.—Why don't you answer me, sir?

Vapid. Your pardon, ma'am, I was taking a note of the affair—and yet I'm afraid——

Lady. What are you afraid of, sir?

Vapid. That it has been dramatized before;—it is certainly not a new case.

Lady. Insupportable!—But I take my leave of you all!—I abandon you for ever!—I!—oh, I shall go wild!

[Exit in a rage.

Flor. Ay, ay, follow his lordship—virtue is ever sure to meet its reward. Now, Mr Vapid, tell us how you came in that closet?

Vapid. 'Faith, I can't.—I believe the servant hurried me there on your approach.

Flor. Then you didn't come to meet lady Waitfor't?

Vapid. Meet lady Waitfor't!—no, I came to read my epilogue to Neville; and a wonderful production it is—"The tyrant totters, and the senate nods."

[Walking about.

Louisa. To what a strange fatality of circumstances has her character been exposed!—but vice often finds its punishment for a crime it never committed, when it escapes for thousands it daily practises.

Flor. Well, Miss Courtney, I hope now your apprehensions are at an end?

Louisa. Yes, sir, I shall remain for the short time necessary to prepare for my journey, and beg I may detain you no longer. I'm afraid I have already been a great intruder.

Flor. No, you have been the occasion of more happiness than ever I experienced. But you won't leave Bath, till you've seen my brother?

Louisa. Oh, I have been cruelly deceived, Mr Floriville! I have injured your brother so much, that, though I wish, I almost dread to see him.

Flor. Then I'll go in search of him,—and if I don't reconcile you——Come, Mr Vapid, will you walk?

Vapid. With all my heart.

Flor. [Taking him by the hand.] By Heaven, you are an honest fellow.

Vapid. Madam, good night!—if I can be of any service to you in the dramatic, or any other way, you may command me.

Flor. Ay, I'll answer for him,—he would die to serve you.

Vapid. Die to serve her! ay, "Die all!—die nobly!—die like demi-gods!"

[Exeunt.