Chapter V: Act 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._