Act 1 — SCENE II.
Hannibal Evans Lloyd translation
Apartment in Drave's House.
Mr. DRAVE writing.—Mrs. DRAVE enters.
Mrs. D. Good morning, my dear—you have not come down.
Mr. D. [gives her his hand, without looking up]. Good morning.
Mrs. D. You are busy.
Mr. D. I shall have done in a moment.
Mrs. D. I'll leave you.
Mr. D. [rising]. It is done now.
Mrs. D. You seem angry.
Mr. D. No wonder—that man——
Mrs. D. Who?
Mr. D. My hopeful ward Lewis—as I am not always ready to pay his debts, he sets the Chancellor upon me.
Mrs. D. Again? Very strange.
Mr. D. I am continually pestered with applications for the payment.
Mrs. D. And you——
Mr. D. With all due respect for these applications, I'll not pay.
Mrs. D. Very well: but——
Mr. D. And now this Chancellor sends me a letter, desiring me to bring him my accounts, as guardian to Lewis this afternoon that he may overlook them. I'll not do it. [Takes a letter off the table, and gives it to Mrs. Drave—walks angrily up and down while she reads it—takes it back]. What do you think of it?
Mrs. D. It is unpleasant—but why send a positive refusal?
Mr. D. And why not?
Mrs. D. The Chancellor is a very powerful man.
Mr. D. I do not fear him.
Mrs. D. He takes every opportunity to injure us; his hatred is implacable. What can you oppose to his base intrigues?
Mr. D. My heart, and plain dealing.
Mrs. D. Do not offend him so sensibly: rather send the accounts.
Mr. D. Never! The very sum he now troubles me for is to pay himself. He lent it to Lewis, through a third person, upon exorbitant interest.
Mrs. D. Base enough. But, I repeat it, he is powerful, and will revenge himself.
[Mr. D. seals the letter, rings the bell.—Enter a Servant.]
Mrs. D. You will have it so. I wish all may be well.
Mr. D. [giving the letter to the Servant]. To the Chancellor's. [Exit Servant.
Mrs. D. Had you only done it in a better manner—You may remember 'twas for your rashness he withdrew the L.4000.
Mr. D. For my rashness? Oh, no.—To place it out at higher interest somewhere else.—At such an unseasonable time too—there again—thus to undermine good houses, that he may have full scope for his unfair practices.
Mrs. D. It may be so—But in regard to Lewis—I wish your behaviour were different: it may have such unpleasant consequences—for I must inform you, he seems to have an attachment to Augusta.
Mr. D. [surprised]. So?—and Augusta?
Mrs. D. She loves him.
Mr. D. Merciful God!
Mrs. D. What is it you mean?
Mr. D. Too well have I feared—too well have I guessed at such things. Hence it is that Augusta looks always as if oppressed by conscious guilt—hence her reserve towards me.—Has not this unhappy guardianship given me uneasiness enough? Has not my life been sufficiently embittered? Have I not sacrificed enough of my peace? must I also sacrifice my only child?
Mrs. D. I do not see why.
Mr. D. No, no, you do not see—if you did, you would not stand there so calmly.
Mrs. D. And why are you so terrified? That he is lively—sometimes wild? He is young.
Mr. D. Lively? wild? young? No, no.—Immoral, dissolute, hypocritical; that is the character of Lewis Brook.—And shall he the husband of my Augusta? When I quit the world, shall I leave to him the child of my heart? To him? Oh, you have brought me bad news!
Mrs. D. You see every thing in such gloomy colours! I agree he is inconsiderate—very inconsiderate; and certainly while he remains as he is, I shall not think of marriage: but love will bring him back.
Mr. D. What can you hope from such levity?
Mrs. D. More than from the insensibility of his brother.
Mr. D. Do you speak of my good Philip thus? Oh, had you told me that she loved him—whatever I could spare—my whole fortune—yes, she should have had it all—Then we had been the happiest of parents.
Mrs. D. I see no happiness, in our daughter's being shut up with such an eternal grumbler.
Mr. D. Oh! but his heart is noble!
Mrs. D. An inconsiderate mind is better than such sour virtue, if indeed it deserves the name.
Mr. D. I own I am disappointed in both of them.
Mrs. D. I fear, my dear Drave, your mode of education has contributed to make them hate each other.
Mr. D. Hate? Philip hate?—Never.——If Lewis does, I am sorry.
Mrs. D. He cannot love such sour behaviour—he does not hate—but he is cold—they have not spoken to each other these three months.
Mr. D. We must put an end to this. They must see each other, come to an explanation, and all will be well. Lewis esteems you—prevail on him to meet his brother with kindness.
Mrs. D. Willingly.—And now concerning Augusta—what will you do?
Mr. D. [thoughtfully]. Now I see clearly—now I can account for many strange things: it is too true—her passion is too deeply rooted to be overcome. I will never force her inclination—but I must first be certain that Lewis really loves her.
Mrs. D. I hope to satisfy you in that point. His declarations are sufficiently explicit.
Mr. D. Suppose what you tell me to be true, the young Counsellor's visits must be declined.
Mrs. D. Why so?
Mr. D. For a thousand reasons. I must beg you to comply with my wishes in this respect.—The company of a fool can never do any good, though his impertinences may do mischief.—I have now some engagements abroad, and cannot speak to Augusta, till after I return. Prepare her for it—tell her that her happiness is dearer to me than my life—she is still the child of my heart, and her choice shall be mine.—Adieu. [Exeunt on different sides.]