Miss Wal. And felt nothing but pity for the accuser, instead of paying the least regard to the accusation. But pray, is it really under a pretence of getting the girl upon the stage, that Belville has taken away Mrs Tempest's niece from the people she boarded with? Capt. Sav. It is. Belville, ever on the look out for fresh objects, met her in those primitive regions of purity, the Green-Boxes; where, discovering that she was passionately desirous of becoming an actress, he improved his acquaintance with her, in the fictitious character of an Irish manager, and she eloped last night, to be, as she imagines, the heroine of a Dublin theatre. Miss Wal. So, then, as he has kept his real name artfully concealed, Mrs Tempest can, at most, but suspect him of Miss Leeson's seduc tion. Capt. Sav. Of no more; and this, only, from the description of the people who saw him in company with her at the play. But I wish the affair may not have a serious conclusion; for she has a brother, a very spirited young fellow, who is a counsel in the Temple, and who will certainly call Belville to an account the moment he hears of it. Miss Wal. And what will become of the poor creature after he has deserted her? Capt. Sav. You know that Belville is generous to profusion, and has a thousand good qualities to counterbalance this single fault of gallantry, hich contaminates his character. Miss Wal. You unen! you men! You are such wretches, that there's no having a moment's satisfaction with you! and, what's still more provoking, there's no having a moment's satisfaction without you! Capt. Sav. Nay, don't think us all alike. Miss Wal. I'll endeavour to deceive myself; for, it is but a poor argument of your sincerity, to be the confidant of another's falsehood. Capt. Sav. Nay, no more of this, my love; no people live happier than Belville and his wife; nor is there a man in England, notwithstanding all his levity, who considers his wife with a warmer degree of affection: if you have a friendship, therefore, for her, let her continue in an error, so necessary to her repose, and give no hint whatever of his gallantries to any body. Miss Wal. If I had no pleasure in obliging you, I have too much regard for Mrs Belville, not to follow your advice; but you need not enjoin me so strongly on the subject, when you know I can keep a secret. Capt Sav. You are all goodness: and the prudence, with which you have concealed our private engagements, has eternally obliged me. Had you trusted the secret even to Mrs Belville, it would not have been safe. She would have told her husband; and he is such a rattlescull, that, notwithstanding all his regard for me, he would have mentioned it in some moment of levity, and sent it in a course of circulation to my father. Miss Wal. The peculiarity of your father's temper, joined to my want of fortune, made it necessary for me to keep our engagements inviolably secret. There is no merit, therefore, either in my prudence, or in my labouring assiduously to cultivate the good opinion of the general, since both were so necessary to my own happiness. Don't despise me for this acknowledgment now. Capt. Sav. Bewitching softness! But your goodness, I flatter myself, will be speedily rewarded; you are now such a favourite with him, that he is eternally talking of you; and I really fancy he means to propose you to me himself; for, last night, in a few minutes after he had declared you would make the best wife in the world, he seriously asked me, if I had any aversion to matrimony! Miss Wal. Why, that was a very great concession, indeed, as he seldom stoops to consult any body's inclinations. Capt. Sav. So it was, I assure you; for, in the army, being used to nothing but command and obedience, he removes the discipline of the parade into his family, and no more expects his orders should be disputed, in matters of a domestic nature, than if they were delivered at the head of his regiment. Miss Wal. And yet, Mrs Tempest, who, you say, is as much a storm in her nature as her name, is disputing them eternally. Enter Mr and MRS BELVILLE. Bel. Well, Miss Walsingham, have not we had a pretty morning's visitor? Miss Wal. Really, I think so; and I have been asking captain Savage how long the lady has been disordered in her senses? Bel. Why will they let the poor woman abroad, without some body to take care of her? Capt. Sav. O, she has her lucid intervals. Miss Wal. I declare I shall be as angry with you as I am with Belville. [Aside to the captain. Mrs Bel. You can't think how sensibly she spoke at first. Bel. I should have had no conception of her madness, if she had not brought so preposterous a charge against me. Enter a Servant. Ser. Lady Rachel Mildew, madam, sends her compliments, and, if you are not particularly engaged, will do herself the pleasure of waiting upon you. Mrs Bel. Our compliments, and we shall be glad to see her ladyship. [Exit Servant. Bel. I wonder if lady Rachel knows that Torrington came to town last night from Bath! Mrs Bel. I hope he has found benefit by the waters; for he is one of the best creatures existing; he's a downright parson Adams, in goodnature and simplicity. Miss Wal. Lady Rachel will be quite happy at his return; and, it would be a laughable affair, if a match could be brought about between the old maid and the old batchelor. Capt. Sav. Mr Torrington is too much taken up at Westminster-Hall, to think of paying his devoirs to the ladies, and too plain a speaker, I fancy, to be agreeable to lady Rachel. Bel. You mistake the matter widely; she is deeply smitten with him; but honest Torrington is utterly unconscious of his conquest, and modestly thinks, that he has not a single attraction for any woman in the universe. Mrs Bel. Yet, my poor aunt speaks sufficiently plain, in all conscience, to give him a different opinion of himself. Miss Wal. Yes; and puts her charms into such repair, whenever she expects to meet him, that her cheeks look, for all the world, like a rasberry ice upon a ground of custard. Capt. Sav. I thought Apollo was the only god of lady Rachel's idolatry; and that, in her passion for poetry, she had taken leave of all the less elevated affections. Bel. O, you mistake again! the poets are eternally in love, and can by no means be calculated to describe the imaginary passions, without being very susceptible of the real ones. Enter a Servant. Ser. The man, madam, from Tavistock-street, has brought home the dresses for the inasquerade, and desires to know, if there are any commands for him. Mrs Bel. O! bid him stay till we see the dresses! [Exit Servant. Miss Wal. They are only dominos. Bel. I am glad of that; for characters are as difficult to be supported at the masquerade, as they are in real life. The last time I was at the Pantheon, a vestal virgin invited me to sup with her, and swore that her pocket had been picked by a justice of peace. Miss Wal. Nay, that was not so bad as the Hamlet's ghost, that boxed with Henry the Eighth, and afterwards danced a hornpipe to the tune of Nancy Dawson! Ha, ha, ha! - We follow you, Mrs Belville. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-Changes to LEESON'S chambers, in the temple. Enter LEESON. Lee. Where is this clerk of mine? Connolly! Con. [Behind.] Here, sir! Lee. Have you copied the marriage-settlement, as I corrected it? Enter CONNOLLY, with pistols. Con. Ay, honey, an hour ago. Con. By my soul, I have been firing them this half hour, without once being able to make them go off. Lee. They are plaguy dirty. Con. In troth, so they are; I strove to brighten them up a little, but some misfortune attends every thing I do, for the more I clane them, the dirtier they are, honey. Lee. You have had some of your usual daily visitors for money, I suppose? Con. You may say that! and three or four of them are now hanging about the door, that I wish handsomely hanged any where else for bodering us. Lee. No joking, Connolly! my present situation is a very disagreeable one. Con. Faith, and so it is; but who makes it disagreeable? your aunt Tempest would let you have as much money as you please, but you won't condescend to be acquainted with her, though people in this country can be very intimate friends without seeing one another's faces for seven years. Lee. Do you think me base enough to receive a favour from a woman, who has disgraced her family, and stoops to be a kept mistress? you see, my sister is already ruined by a connexion with her. Con. Ah, sir, a good guinea is not the worse for coming through a bad hand! if it was, what would become of us lawyers? and, by my soul, many a high head in London would, at this minute, be very low, if they had not received favours even from much worse people than kept mistresses. Lee. Others, Connolly, may prostitute their honour, as they please; mine is my chief possession, and I must take particular care of it. Con. Honour, to be sure, is a very fine thing, sir; but I don't see how it is to be taken care of without a little money; your honour, to my knowledge, has not been in your own possession these two years; and the devil a crumb can you honestly swear by, till you get it out of the hands of your creditors. Lee. I have given you a licence to talk, Connolly, because I know you are faithful: but I have not given you a liberty to sport with my misfortunes. Con. You know I'd die to serve you, sir! but, of what use is your giving me leave to spake, if you oblige me to hould my tongue? 'tis out of pure love and affection that I put you in mind of your misfortunes. Lee. Well, Connolly, a few days will, in all probability, enable me to redeem my honour, and to reward your fidelity; the lovely Emily, you know, has half consented to embrace the first opportunity of flying with me to Scotland, and the paltry trifles I owe, will not be missed in her fortune. Con. But, dear sir, consider you are going to fight a duel this very evening, and if you should be kilt, I fancy you will find it a little difficult to run away afterwards with the lovely Emily! Lee. If I fall, there will be an end to my misfortunes. Con. But, surely, it will not be quite genteel, to go out of the world without paying your debts. Lee. But how shall I stay in the world, Connolly, without punishing Belville for ruining my sister? Con. O, the devil fly away with this honour! an ounce of common sense is worth a whole shipload of it, if we must prefer a bullet or a halter to a fine young lady and a great fortune! sent. Lee. We'll talk no more on the subject at preTake this letter to Mr Belville; deliver it into his own hand, be sure; and bring me an answer: make haste, for I shall not stir out till you come back. Con. By my soul, I wish you may be able to stir out then!-O, but that's true! Lee. What's the matter? Con. Why, sir, the gentleman I last lived clerk with, died lately, and left me a legacy of twenty guineas Lee. What! Is Mr Stanley dead? Con. Faith, his friends have behaved very unkindly if he is not, for they have buried him these six weeks! Lee. And what then? Con. Why, sir, I received my little legacy this morning, and if you would be so good as to keep it for me, I would be much obliged to you. Lee. Connolly, I understand you, but I am already shamefully in your debt; you have had no money from me this age Con. O, sir, that does not signify; if you are not kilt in this damned duel, you'll be able enough to pay me if you are, I shan't want it. Lee. Why so, my poor fellow? Con. Because, though I am but your clerk, and though I think fighting the most foolish thing upon earth, I'm as much a gentleman as yourself, and have as much right to commit a murder in the way of duelling. Lee. And what then? You have no quarrel with Mr Belville? Con. I shall have a damned quarrel with him though, if you are kilt: your death shall be revenged, depend upon it; so, let that content you. Lee. My dear Connolly, I hope I shan't want such a proof of your affection. How he distres ses me Con. You will want a second, I suppose, in this affair? I stood second to my own brother in the Fifteen Acres; and, though that has made me detest the very thought of duelling ever since, yet, if you want a friend, I'll attend you to the field of death with a great deal of satisfaction. Lee. I thank you, Connolly; but I think it extremely wrong in any man, who has a quarrel, to VOL. II. expose his friend to difficulties; we should not seek for redress, if we are not equal to the task of fighting our own battles; and I choose you particularly to carry my letter, because you may be supposed ignorant of the contents, and thought to be acting only in the ordinary course of your business. Con. Say no more about it, honey; I will be back with you presently. [Going, returns.] I put the twenty guineas in your pocket, before you were up, sir; and I don't believe you would look for such a thing there, if I was not to tell you of it. [Erit. Lee. This faithful, noble hearted creature!but let me fly from thought; the business I have to execute will not bear the test of reflection. Re-enter CONNOLLY. [Erit. Mrs Bel. How strangely this affair of Mrs Tempest hangs upon my spirits, though I have every reason, from the tenderness, the politeness, and the generosity of Mrs Belville, as well as from the woman's behaviour, to believe the whole charge the result of a disturbed imagination. Yet, suppose it should be actually true:Heigho! well, suppose it should; I would endeavour-I think I would endeavour to keep my temper: a frowning face never recovered a heart, that was not to be fixed with a smiling one: but women, in general, forget this grand article of the matrimonial creed entirely; the dignity of insulted virtue obliges them to play the fool, whenever their Corydons play the libertine; and poh! they must pull down the house about the traitor's ears, though they are themselves to be crushed in pieces by the ruins. Lady Rach. Yet the managers of both houses have refused my play; have refused it peremptorily, though I offered to make them a present of it! Mrs Bel. That's very surprising, when you offered to make them a present of it. Lady Rach. They alledge, that the audiences are tired of crying at comedies; and insist that my despairing shepherdess is absolutely too dismal for representation. Mrs Bel. What! though you have introduced a lawyer in a new light? Lady Rach. Yes, and have a boarding-school romp, that slaps her mother's face, and throws a bason of scalding water at her governess. Mrs Bel. Why surely these are capital jokes! Lady Rach. But the managers can't find them out. However, I am determined to bring it out bout the happiness of your wife, yet for ever endangering it by your passion for variety. Bel. Why, there is certainly a contradiction between my principles and my practice; but, if ever you marry, you'll be able to reconcile it perfectly. Possession, Savage! O, possession, is a miserable whetter of the appetite in love! and I own myself so sad a fellow, that, though I would not exchange Mrs Belville's mind for any woman's upon earth, there is scarcely a woman's person upon earth, which is not to me a stronger object of attraction. Capt. Sav. Then, perhaps, in a little time you'll be weary of Miss Leeson? Bel. To be sure I shall; though, to own the truth, I have not yet carried my point conclusively with the little monkey. Capt. Sav. Why, how the plague has she escaped a moment in your hands? Bel. By a mere accident. She came to the lodgings, which my man Spruce prepared for her, rather unexpectedly last night, so that I happened to be engaged particularly in another quarter somewhere; and I have discovered such a trea--you understand me?- and the damned aunt Spruce. My lady is just gone out with lady a repeated declaration of his unwarrantable at sure for my boarding-school romp, as exceeds the most sanguine expectation of criticism. Mrs Bel. How fortunate! Lady Rach. Going to Mrs Le Blond, my milliner's, this morning, to see some contraband silks (for you know there's a foreign minister just arrived), I heard a loud voice rehearsing Juliet from the dining-room; and, upon inquiry, found, that it was a country girl just eloped from her friends in town, to go upon the stage with an Irish manager. Mrs Bel. Ten to one the strange woman's niece, who has been here this morning. [Aside. Lady Rach. Mrs Le Blond has some doubts about the manager, it seems, though she has not seen him yet, because the apartments are very expensive, and were taken by a fine gentleman out of livery. Mrs Bel. What am I to think of this? Pray, lady Rachel, as you have conversed with this young actress, I suppose you could procure me a sight of her? Lady Rach. This moment, if you will. I am very intimate with her already; but pray keep the matter a secret from your husband, for he is so witty, you know, upon my passion for the drama, that I shall be teased to death by him. Mrs Bel. O, you may be very sure, that your secret is safe, for I have a most particular reason to keep it from Mr Belville; but he is coming this way with Captain Savage: let us, at present, avoid him. [Exeunt. Enter BELVILLE and CAPTAIN SAVAGE. Capt. Sav. You are a very strange man, Belville; you are for ever tremblingly solicitous a found me so much employment all the morning, that I could only send a message by Spruce, promising to call upon her the first moment I had to spare in the course of the day. Capt. Sav. And so you are previously satisfied that you shall be tired of her? Bel. Tired of her? Why, I am, at this moment, in pursuit of fresh game, against the hour of satiety: game, that you know to be exquisite: and I fancy I shall bring it down, though it is closely guarded by a deal of that pride, which passes for virtue with the generality of your mighty good people. Capt. Sav. Indeed! and may a body know this wonder? Bel. You are to be trusted with any thing, for you are the closest fellow I ever knew, and the the rack itself would hardly make you discover one of your own secrets to any body-What do you think of Miss Walsingham? Capt. Sav. Miss Walsingham! Death and the devil! [Aside. Bel. Miss Walsingham. Capt. Sav. Why surely she has not received your addresses with any degree of approbation? Bel. With every degree of approbation I could expcct. Capt. Sav. She bas? Bel. Ay: why this news surprises you? Bel. Ha, ha, ha! I can't help laughing to think what a happy dog Miss Walsingham's husband is likely to be! Capt. Sav. A very happy dog, truly! Bel. She's a delicious girl, isn't she, Savage? but she'll require a little more trouble; for a fine woman, like a fortified town, to speak in your father's language, demands a regular siege; and we must even allow her the honours of war, to magnify the greatness of our own victory. Capt Sav. Well, it amazes me how you gay fellows ever have the presumption to attack a woman of principle. Miss Walsingham has no apparent levity of any kind about her, my hands, there may be fools enough to think of her upon terms of honourable matrimony. [Exit. Bel. No; but she has continued in my house after I had whispered my passion in her ear, and gave me a second opportunity of addressing her improperly. What greater encouragement could Capt. Sav. So, here's a discovery! a precious discovery! and while I have been racking my imagination, and sacrificing my interest, to promote the happiness of this woman, she has been listening to the addresses of another! to the addresses of a married man! the husband of her friend, and the intimate friend of her intended husband! By Belville's own account, however, she has not yet proceeded to any criminal lengths -But why did she keep the affair a secret from me? or why did she continue in his house, after I desire? Enter SPRUCE, Well, Spruce, what are your commands? Rachel, sir. tachment? What's to be done? If I open my engagement with her to Belville, I am sure he will instantly desist; but, then, her honour is left in a state extremely questionable-It shall be still concealed. While it remains unknown, Belville will himself tell me every thing; and doubt, upon an occasion of this nature, is infinitely more insupportable than the downright falsehood of the woman whoin we love. ACT II. SCENE I.-An Apartment in GENERAL SAVAGE'S house. Enter GENERAL SAVAGE and TORRINGTON. Gen. Sav. ZOUNDS! Torrington, give me quarter, when I surrender up my sword. I own that, for these twenty years, I have been suffering all the inconveniencies of marriage, without tasting any one of its comforts, and rejoicing in an imaginary freedom, while I was really grovelling in chains, Tor. In the dirtiest chains upon earth;-yet you wou'dn't be convinced, but laughed at all your married acquaintance as slaves, when not one of them put up with half so much from the worst wife, as you were obliged to crouch under from a kept mistress. Gen. Sav. 'Tis too true. But you know she sacrificed much for me;-you know that she was the widow of a colonel, and refused two very advantageous matches on my account. Tor. If she was the widow of a judge, and had refused a high chancellor, she was still a devil incarnate, and you were in course a madman to live with her. Gen. Sav. You don't remember her care of me when I have been sick. Tor. I recollect, however, her usage of you in health, and you may easily find a tenderer nurse, when you are bound over by the gout or the rheumatism, Gen. Sav. Well, well, I agree with you that she is a devil incarnate; but I am this day determined to part with her for ever. Tor. Not you indeed. [Exit. Gen. Sav. What, don't I know my own mind? Tor. Not you indeed, when she is in the question: with every body else, your resolution is as unalterable as a determination in the house of peers; but Mrs Tempest is your fate, and she reverses your decrees with as little difficulty as a fraudulent debtor now-a-days procures his certificate under a commission of bankruptcy. Gen. Sen. Well, if, like the Roman Fabius, I conquer by delay, in the end there will be no great reason to find fault with my generalship. The proposal of parting now comes from herself. Tor. O, you daren't make it for the life of you! Gen. Sav. You must know, that this morning we had a smart cannonading on Belville's account; and she threatens, as I told you before, to quit my house, if I don't challenge him for taking away her niece. Tor. That fellow is the very devil among the women! and yet there isn't a man in England fonder of his wife. Gen. Sav. Poh, if the young minx hadn't surrendered to him, she would have capitulated to somebody else; and I shall at this time be doubly obliged to him, if he is any ways instrumental in getting the aunt off my hands. Tor. Why at this time? Gen. Sav. Because, to shew you how fixed my resolution is to be a keeper no longer, I mean to marry immediately. Tor. And can't you avoid being pressed to |