Page images
PDF
EPUB

[Aside.
Sir J. Nothing at all, sir! Why then what
business have you in my house, ha?
Serv. You said you wanted a gentleman in
a Spanish habit.

Charles, but can't find him, and by Whisper's his voice; I shall be beaten again.
scouting at the end of the street, I suspect he
must be in the house again. I am informed
too that he has borrowed a Spanish habit out
of the playhouse: what can it mean?

Enter a Servant of SIR JEALOUS TRAFFICK'S
to him out of the House.

Hark'e, sir, do you belong to this house?
Serv. Yes, sir.

Mar. Isn't your name Richard?

Serv: No, sir; Thomas.

Mar. Why ay, but his name is neither Babinetto nor Meanwell.

[ocr errors]

Sir J. What is his name then, sirrah? Ha! now I look at you again, I believe you are the rogue that threatened me with half a dozen myrmidons

Mar. Me, sir! I never saw your face in all

Mar. Oh, ay, Thomas-Well, Thomas, my life before. there's a shilling for you.

Serv. Thank you, sir.

Sir J. Speak, sir; who is it you look for?

or, or

Mar. Pray, Thomas, can you tell if there Mar. A terrible old dog! [Aside] Why, be a gentleman in it in a Spanish habit? sir, only an honest young fellow of my acSero. There's a Spanish gentleman within quaintance-I thought that here might be a that is just a-going to marry my young lady, sir. ball, and that he might have been here in a Mar. Are you sure he is a Spanish gentleman? masquerade.-'Tis Charles, sir Francis Gripe's Serv. I'm sure he speaks no English that I son,-because I knew he us'd to come hither hear of. sometimes.

know.

Mar. Then that can't be him I want, for 'tis Sir J. Did he so?—Not that I know of, I'm an English gentleman that I inquire after; he sure. Pray heaven that this be don Diegomay be dressed like a Spaniard, for aught IIf I should be trick'd now-Ha! my heart misgives me plaguily-Within there! stop the Sero. Ha! who knows but this may be an marriage-Run, sirrah, call all my servants! impostor? I'll inform my master, for if he I'll be satisfied that this is signior Pedro's son should be impos'd upon, he'll beat us all round, ere he has my daughter. [Aside] Pray come in, sir, and see if this be the person you inquire for.

Mar. Ay, I'll follow you-Now for it. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-The Inside of the House. Enter MARPLOT and Servant. Serv. Sir, please to stay here; I'll send my master to you. [Exit. Mar. So, this was a good contrivance. If this be Charles now, he will wonder how I found him out.

Mar. Ha! sir George! what have I done now? Enter SIR GEORGE AIRY, with a drawn Sword, between the Scenes.

Sir G. Ha! Marplot here-oh, the unlucky
dog-What's the matter, sir Jealous?
Sir J. Nay, I don't know the matter, Mr.
Meanwell.

Mar. Upon my soul, sir George

[Going up to Sir George. Sir J. Nay then, I'm betray'd, ruin'd, undone.-Thieves, traitors, rogues! [Offers to go in] Stop the marriage, I say

Re-enter Servant and SIR JEALOUS TRAFFICK.
Sir G. I say go on, Mr. Tackum.-Nay, no
Sir J. What is your earnest business. entering here; I guard this passage, old gen-
blockhead! that you must speak with me be-tleman: the act and deed were both your

fore the ceremony's past? Ha! who's this?

Sero. Why this gentleman, sir, wants another gentleman in a Spanish habit, he says. Sir J. In a Spanish habit! 'tis some friend of signior don Diego's, I warrant. Sir, your

servant.

Mar. Your servant, sir.

Sir J. I suppose you would speak with signior Babinetto.

Mar. Sir!

Sir J. I say, I suppose you would speak with signior Babinetto?

Mar. Hey-day! what the devil does he say now? [Aside] Sir, I don't understand you. Sir J. Don't you understand Spanish, sir? Mar. Not I indeed, sir.

Sir J. I thought you had known signior Babinetto.

Mar. Not I, upon my word, sir.

Sir J. What then, you'd speak with his friend, the English merchant, Mr. Meanwell? Mar. Neither, sir, not I; I don't mean any such thing.

Sir J. Why, who are you then, sir? and what do you want? [In an angry Tone. Mar. Nay, nothing at all, not I, sir. - Pox on him! I wish I were out; he begins to exalt

own, and I'll see 'em sign'd, or die fort.

Enter Servant.

Sir J. A pox on the act and deed! - Fall on, knock him down.

Sir G. Ay, come on, scoundrels! I'll prick your jackets for you.

you.

Sir J. Zounds! sirrah, I'll be reveng'd on [Beats Marplot. Sir G. Ay, there your vengeance is due. Ha, ha!

Mar. Why, what do you beat me for? 1 han't married your daughter.

Sir J. Rascals! why don't you knock him down?

Sero. We are afraid of his sword, sir: it you'll take that from him, we'll knock him down presently.

Enter CHARLES and ISABINDA.
Sir J. Seize her then.

Charles. Rascals, retire; she's my wife touch her if you dare; I'll make dogs'-me of you.

Mar. Ay, I'll make dogs'-meat of you, rascal Sir J. Ah! downright English - Ob, o oh, oh!

SCENE 4.]

Mar. Now how the devil could she get those Enter SIR FRANCIS GRIPE and MIRANDA. Sir F. Into the house of joy we enter with- writings, and I know nothing of it? out knocking—Ha! I think 'tis the house of sorrow, sir Jealous.

Sir F. What, have you robb'd me too, mistress? 'Egad, I'll make you restore 'em

Sir J. Oh, sir Francis, are you come? hussy, I will so. What! was this your contrivance, to abuse, trick, and chouse me out of my child? Sir F. My contrivance! what do you mean? Sir J. No, you don't know your son there in a Spanish habit?

Sir F. How! my son in a Spanish habit! Sirrah, you'll come to be hang'd. Get out of my sight, ye dog! get out of my sight.

Sir J. Get out of your sight, sir! get out with your bags. Let's see what you'll give him now to maintain my daughter on.

Sir F. Give him! he shall never be the better for a penny of mine-and you might have look'd after your daughter better, sir Jealous. Trick'd, quotha! 'Egad, I think you design'd to trick me: but lookye, gentlemen, I believe I shall trick you both. This lady is my wife, do you see, and my estate shall descend only to her children.

Sir G. I shall be extremely obliged to you,

sir Francis.

Sir F. Ha, ha, ha, ha! poor sir George! does not your hundred pounds stick in your stomach? ha, ha, ha!

Sir G. No, faith, sir Francis, this lady has given me a cordial for that.

[Takes her by the Hand. Sir F. Hold, sir, you have nothing to say to this lady.

Sir G. Nor you nothing to do with my wife, sir.
Sir F. Wife, sir!

Mir. Ay, really, guardian, 'tis even so. I hope you'll forgive my first offence.

Sir J. Take care I don't make you pay the arrears, sir. 'Tis well 'tis no worse, since 'tis no better. Come, young man, seeing thou hast outwitted me, take her, and bless you both! Charles. I hope, sir, you'll bestow your [Kneels. blessing too; 'tis all I ask. Mar. Do, Gardy, do. Sir F. Confound you all!

[Exit.

Mar. Mercy upon us, how he looks!
Sir G. Ha, ha, ha! ne'er mind his curses,
Charles; thou'lt thrive not one jot the worse
Since this gentleman is reconcil'd
for 'em.

we are all made happy.
Sir J. I always lov'd precaution, and took
care to avoid dangers; but when a thing was
past, I ever had philosophy to be easy.

Charles. Which is the true sign of a great
me, and
soul. I lov'd your daughter, and she
you shall have no reason to repent her choice.
Isa. You will not blame me, sir, for loving
my own country best.
Mar. So here's every body happy, I find,
wonder what satisfac-
but poor Pilgarlick.
tion I shall have for being cuff'd, kick'd, and
beaten in your service!

Sir J. I have been a little too familiar with you as things are fallen out; but since there's no help for't, you must forgive me.

Mar. 'Egad, I think so-but provided that you be not so familiar for the future.

Sir G. Thou hast been an unlucky rogue.
Mar. But very honest.

Charles. That I'll vouch for, and freely for

Sir G. And I'll do you one piece of service more, Marplot; I'll take care that sir Francis makes you master of your estate.

Sir F. What, have you chous'd me out of give thee. my consent and your writings then, mistress, ha? Mir. Out of nothing but my own, guardian. Sir J. Ha, ha, ha! 'tis some comfort at least to see you are over-reach'd as well as myself. Will you settle your estate upon your son now? Sir F. He shall starve first.

Mr. That I have taken care to prevent. There, sir, are the writings of your uncle's estate, which have been your due these three [Gives Charles Papers. Charles. I shall study to deserve this favour.]

Tears.

Mar. That will make me as happy as any of you. Sir J. Now let us in, and refresh ourselves with a cheerful glass, in which we'll bury all animosities; and

By my example let all parents move,
And never strive to cross their children's love;
But still submit that care to Providence above.
[Exeunt.

[ocr errors]

COLLEY CIBBER.

On

fara was born on the 6th of November, O. S. 1671. His father, Cajus Gabriel Cibber, was a native of Holcame into England, to follow his profession of a statuary, some time before the restoration of King Charles II. In 1682 he was sent to the freeby was the daughter of William Colley, Esq. of Glaiston in Rutlandshire. of Grantham in Lincolnshire, where he stayed till he got through it, from the lowest form to the uppermost; Man learning as that school could give him is, as he himself acknowledges, the most he could pretend to. •ng the school, our author came to Nottingham, and found his father in arms there among the forces which the Devonshire had raised to aid the Prince of Orange, afterwards King William III, who had landed in the west. and D, considering this a very proper season for a young fellow to distinguish himself in, entreated the Earl of sire to accept of his son in his room, which his Lordship not only consented to, but even promised, that, when > were witled," he would further provide for him. During his period of attendance on this nobleman, however, a •-1 application to the amusements of the theatre awakened in him his passion for the stage, which he seemed now Rises in pursuing as his summum bonum, and, in spite of father, mother, or friends, to fix on as his ne plus ultra. 1959 to 1711 we find him working through the difficulties of a poor salary at the theatre and the supporting by ir af his pen a numerous family of children. In 1711 he became united, as joint-patentee with Collier, Wilks, Digger, in the management of Drury Lane theatre; and afterwards in a like partnership with Booth, Wilks, and Sir ard Steele, During this latter period, which did not entirely end till 1751, the English stage was perhaps in the arbing state it ever enjoyed. After a number of years, passed in the utmost ease, gaiety, and good-humour, erad this life, at llington, on the 12th of December 1757; his man-servant (whom he bad talked to by his bed32

side at six in the morning, in seeming good health) finding him dead at nine, lying on his pillow, just as he left him. He had recently completed his 86th year. "I was vain enough to think," says he, "that I had more ways than on to come at applause and that, in the variety of characters I acted, the chances to win it were the strongest on my side. That, if the maltitude were not in a roar to see me in Cardinal Wolsey, I could be sure of them in Alderman Foadlewife. If they hated me in Jago, in Sir Fopling they took me for a fine gentleman. If they were silent at Syphax, ne Italian eunuch was more applauded than I when I sung in Sir Courtly. If the morals of Aesop were too grave for them, Justice Shallow was as simple and as merry an old rake as the wisest of our young ones could wish me. And though the terror and detestation raised by King Richard might be too severe a delight for them, yet the more gentle and modern vanities of a Poet Bayes, or the well-bred vices of a Lord Foppington, were not at all more than their merry hearts, or nicer morals, could bear." In answer to Pope's attack upon him for plagiarism, Mr. Cibber candidly declares, that whenever he took upon him to make some dormant play of an old author fit for the stage, it was honestly not to be idle that set him to work, as a good housewife will mend old linen when se has no better employment; bat that, when he was more warmly engaged by a subject entirely new he only thought it a good subject, when it seemed worthy of an abler pen than his own, and might prove as useful to the hearer as profitable to himself. And, indeed, this essential piece of merit must be granted to his own original plays, that they always tend to the improvement of the mind as well as the entertainment of the eye; and that vice and folly, however pleasingly habited, are constantly lashed, ridiculed, or reclaimed in them, and virtue as constantly rewarded. There is an argument, indeed, which might be pleaded in favour of this author, were his plays possessed of a much smaller share of merit than is to be found in them; which is, that he wrote, at least in the early part of his life, through necessity, for the support of his increasing family; his precarious income as an, actor being then too scanty to supply it with even the necessaries of life: and with great pleasantry he acquaints us, that his muse and his spouse were equally prolific; that the one was seldom mother of a child, but in the same year the other made him the father of a play; and that they had had a dozen of each sett between them, of both which kinds some died in their infancy, and near an equal number of each were alive when he quitted the theatre. No wonder then, when the Muse is only called upon by family duty, that she should not always rejoice in the fruit of her labour. This excuse, we say, might be pleaded in Mr. Cibber's favour: but we must conta ourselves of the opinion, that there is no occasion for the plea; and that his plays have merit enough to speak in their own cause, without the necessity of begging indulgence. His plots, whether original or borrowed, are lively and fall of business; yet not confused in the action, nor bungled in the catastrophe. His characters are well drawn, and his dialogue easy, genteel, and natural. And if he has not the intrinsic wit of a Congreve or a Vanburgh, yet there is a luxuance of fancy in his thoughts, which gives an almost equal pleasure, and a purity in his sentiments and morals, the want of which, in the above named anthors, has so frequently and so jus ly been censured. In a word, we think the English stage as much obliged to Mr. Cibber, for a fund of rational entertainment, as to any dramatic writer this nation has produced, Shakspeare only excepted; and one unanswerable evidence has been borne to the satisfaction Le public have received from his plays, and such a one as no author besides himself can boast, viz. that although the number of his dramatic pieces is very extensive, a considerable part are now, and seem likely to continue, on the lat of acting and favourite plays.

THE PROVOKED HUSBAND;

Or, a Journey to London. Acted at Drury Lane 1728. This comedy was begun by Sir John Vanburgh, but lefi by him imperfect at his death; when Mr. Cibber took it in hand, and finished it. It met with very great sucena, being acted twenty-eight nights without interruption: yet such is the power of prejudice and personal pique in biss the judgment, that Mr. Cibber's enemies, ignorant of what share he had in the writing of the piece, bestowed De highest applause on the part which related to Lord Townly's provocations from his wife, which was mostly Cibber a, at the same time that they condemned and opposed the Journey to London part, which was almost entirely Vanborgh for no other apparent reason but because they imagined it to be Mr. Cibber's. He soon, however, convinced them their mistake, by publishing all the scenes which Sir John had left behind him, exactly from his own MS. under single title of The Journey to London.

[blocks in formation]

ACT I.

SCENE I-LORD TOWNLY's Apartment.'

Enter LORD TOWNLY.

thinks it a greater merit still, in her chastity not to care for her husband; and, while str herself is solacing in one continual round a cards and good company, he, poor wretch, i Lord T. WHY did I marry?-Was it not left at large, to take care of his own content evident, my plain, rational scheme of life was ment-'Tis time, indeed, some care were ta impracticable with a woman of so different a ken, and speedily there shall be-Yet, let m way of thinking? Is there one article of it not be rash-Perhaps this disappointment o that she has not broke in upon?-Yes-let me my heart may make me too impatient; an do her justice-her reputation-That-I have some tempers, when reproached, grow mor no reason to believe, is in question-But then, untractable-Here she comes-Let me be cal how long her profligate course of pleasures awhile. may make her able to keep it-is a shocking consideration! and her presumption, while she

Enter LADY Townly.

keeps it, insupportable! for, on the pride of Going out so soon after dinner, madam? that single virtue, she seems to lay it down

Lady T. Lord, my lord! what can I po

as a fundamental point, that the free indul-sibly do at home? gence of every other vice this fertile town

Lord T. What does my sister, lady Grac

affords, is the birthright prerogative' of a wo-do at home?

man of quality. - Amazing! that a creature, Lady T. Why, that is to me amazing! Ha so warm in the pursuit of her pleasures, should you ever any pleasure at home? never cast one thought towards her happiness -Thus, while she admits of no lover, she

Lord T. It might be in your power, madam confess, to make it a little more comfortable to m

some

Lady T. Comfortable! And so, my good table-throw a familiar levant upon lord, you would really have a woman of my sharp, lurching man of quality, and if he derank and spirit stay at home to comfort her mands his money, turn it off with a loud husband!--Lord, what notions of life some laugh, and cry you'll owe it him, to vex him, men have! ha, ha!

Lord T. Don't you think, madam, some ladies' notions are full as extravagant?

Lord T. Prodigious! [Aside. Lady T. These now, my lord, are some Lady T. Yes, my lord, when the tame doves few of the many modish amusements that live cooped within the pen of your precepts, distinguish the privilege of a wife from that I do think them prodigious indeed! of a single woman.

Lord T. And when they fly wild about this town, madam, pray what must the world think of them then?

Lady T. Oh, this world is not so ill bred, as to quarrel with any woman for liking it. Lard T. Nor am I, madam, a husband so well bred, as to hear my wife's being so fond of it; in short, the life you lead, madamLady T. Is to me the pleasantest life in the world.

Lord T. I should not dispute your taste, madam, if a woman had a right to please nobody but herself.

Lady T. Why, whom would you have her please?

Lord T. Sometimes her husband.

Lady T. And don't you think a husband under the same obligation? Lord T. Certainly.

Lady T. Why then we are agreed, my lord-For if I never go abroad till I am weary of being at home-(which you know is the case)-is it not equally reasonable, not to come bome till one is weary of being abroad?

Lord T. If this be your rule of life, madam,
Lis time to ask you one serious question.
Lady T. Don't let it be long a coming then,
for I am in haste.

Lord T. Madam, when I am serious, I pect a serious answer.

Lord T. Death, madam! what law has made these liberties less scandalous in a wife than in an unmarried woman?

Lady T. Why, the strongest law in the world, custom-custom, time out of mind, my lord.

Lord T. Custom, madam, is the law of fools; but it shall never govern me.

Lady T. Nay then, my lord, 'tis time for me to observe the laws of prudence.

Lord T. I wish I could see an instance of it. Lady T. You shall have one this moment, my lord; for I think when a man begins to lose his temper at home, if a woman has any prudence, why she'll go abroad till he comes to himself again. [Going.

Lord T, Hold, madam; I am amazed you are not more uneasy at the life we lead. You don't want sense, and yet seem void of all humanity; for, with a blush I say it, I think I have not wanted love.

Lady T. Oh, don't say that, my lord, if your suppose I have my senses.

Lord T. What is it I have done to you? What can you complain of?

Lady T. Oh, nothing, in the least! 'Tis true you have heard me say I have owed my lord Lurcher a hundred pounds these three ex-weeks; but what then? a husband is not liable to his wife's debts of honour, you know; and if a silly woman will be uneasy about money she can't be sued for, what's that to him? As long as he loves her, to be sure, she can have nothing to complain of.

Lady T. Before I know the question? Lord T. Pshaw!-Have I power, madam, to make you serious by entreaty?

Lady T. You have.

Lord T. And you promise to answer me sincerely?

Lady T. Sincerely.

Lord T. By heaven, if my whole fortune, thrown into your lap, could make you delight in the cheerful duties of a wife, I should think myself a gainer by the purchase.

Lady T. That is, my lord, I might receive your whole estate, provided you were sure I would not spend a shilling of it.

Lord T. Now then, recollect your thoughts, 3d tell me seriously why you married me. Lady T. You insist upon truth, you say? Lord T. I think I have a right to it. Lady T. Why then, my lord, to give you Lord T. No, madam; were I master of your once a proof of my obedience and sincer- heart, your pleasures would be mine; but, difty-I think I married-to take off that re-ferent as they are, I'll feed even your follies straint that lay upon my pleasures while I to deserve it-Perhaps you may have some was a single woman. other trifling debts of honour abroad, that

Lord T. How, madam! is any woman un- keep you out of humour at home-at least it der les restraint after marriage than before it? shall not be my fault if I have not more of Lady T. Oh, my lord, my lord! they are your company-There, there's a bill of five quite different creatures! Wives have infinite hundred-and now, madam

liberties in life, that would be terrible in an unmarried woman to take.

Lord T. Name one.

Lady T. Fifty, if you please-To begin,

Lady T. And now, my lord, down to the ground, I thank you.

Lord T. If it be no offence, madamLady T. Say what you please, my lord; I then-in the morning-A married woman may am in that harmony of spirits, it is impossible have men at her toilet-invite them to dinner to put me out of humour.

appoint them a party in the stage-box at Lord T. How long, in reason then, do you the play-engross the conversation there-call think that sum ought to last you?

em by their christian names-talk louder Lady T. Oh, my dear, dear lord, now you than the players: from thence, clatter again to have spoiled all again! how is it possible I this end of the town-break, with the mor- should answer for an event that so utterly ing, into an assembly-crowd to the hazard-depends upon fortune? But to show you that

I am more inclined to get money than to flat simplicity of that reply was admirable.
throw it away, I have a strong prepossession
that with this five hundred I shall win five
thousand.

Lady G. Pooh, you tease one, brother! Lord T. Come, I beg pardon, child-this is. not a point, I grant you, to trifle upon; thereLord T. Madam, if you were to win ten fore I hope you'll give me leave to be serious. thousand, it would be no satisfaction to me. Lady G. If you desire it, brother; though, Lady T. Oh, the churl! ten thousand: what! upon my word, as to Mr. Manly's having any not so much as wish I might win ten thou-serious thoughts of me-I know nothing of it. sand!-Ten thousand! Oh, the charming sum! Lord T. Well-there's nothing wrong in what infinite pretty things might a woman of your making a doubt of it-But, in short, I spirit do with ten thousand guineas! O'my find by his conversation of late, he has been conscience, if she were a woman of true spirit looking round the world for a wife; and if -she-she might lose them all again. you were to look round the world for a husLord T. And I had rather it should be so, band, he is the first man I would give to you. madam, provided I could be sure that were Lady G. Then whenever he makes me any the last you would lose. offer, brother, I will certainly tell you of it. Lord T. Oh, that's the last thing he'll do! he'll never make you an offer till he's pretty I am now going to a party at quadrille, only sure it won't be refused.

Lady T. Well, my lord, to let you see I design to play all the good housewife I can,

to trifle with a little of it, at poor two guineas Lady G. Now you make me curious. Pray a fish, with the duchess of Quiteright. [Exit. did he ever make any offer of that kind to you? Lord T. Insensible creature! neither re- Lord T. Not directly - but that imports proaches nor indulgence, kindness nor sever- nothing;, he is a man too well acquainted with ity, can wake her to the least reflection! the female world to be brought into a high Continual licence has lull'd her into such a opinion of any one woman, without some lethargy of care, that she speaks of her exces- well-examined proof of her merit; yet I have ses with the same easy confidence as if they reason to believe that your good sense, your were so many virtues. What a turn has her turn of mind, and your way of life, have head taken! But how to cure it-take my brought him to so favourable a one of you, friend's opinion-Manly will speak freely-my that a few days will reduce him to talk plainly sister with tenderness to both sides. They to me; which, as yet, notwithstanding our friendship, I have neither declined nor encouraged him to-do.

know my case-I'll talk with them.

Enter WILLIAMS.

Lady G. I am mighty glad we are so near

Wil. Mr. Manly, my lord, has sent to know in our way of thinking; for, to tell you the

if your lordship was at home.

Lord T. They did not deny me?
Wil. No, my lord.

Lord T. Very well; step up to my and say I desire to speak with her. Wil. Lady Grace is here, my lord.

Enter LADY GRACE.

sister,

truth, he is much upon the same terms with me: you know he has a satirical turn; but never lashes any folly, without giving due encomiums to its opposite virtue; and, upon such occasions, he is sometimes particular in [Exit. turning his compliments upon me, which I don't receive with any reserve, lest he should imagine I take them to myself.

Lord T. So, lady fair, what pretty weapon have you been killing your time with?

Lady G. A huge folio, that has almost killed me-I think I have half read my eyes out. Lord T. Oh! you should not pore so much just after dinner, child.

Lady G. That's true; but any body's thoughts are better than always one's own, you know. Lord T. Who's there?

Re-enter WILLIAMS.

[ocr errors]

Leave word at the door I am at home to nobody but Mr. Manly. [Exit Williams. Lady G. And why is he excepted, pray, my lord?

Lord T. I hope, madam, you have no objection to his company?

Lady G. Your particular orders, upon my being here, look indeed as if you thought I bad not.

Lord T. And your ladyship's inquiry into the reason of those orders shows, at least, it was not a matter indifferent to you.

Lady G. Lord, you make the oddest constructions, brother!

Lord T. You are right, child; when a man of merit makes his addresses, good sense may give him an answer without scorn or coquetry. Lady G. Hush! he's here

Enter MANLY.

Man. My lord, your most obedient. Lord T. Dear Manly, yours-I was thinking to send to you.

Man. Then I am glad I am here, my lord -Lady Grace, I kiss your hands-What, only you two?-How many visits may a man make before he falls into such unfashionable company! A brother and sister, soberly sitting at home, when the whole town is a gadding; 1 question if there is so particular a tete-a-tete again in the whole parish of St. James's.

Lady G. Fie, fie, Mr. Manly, how censo rious you are!

Man. I had not made the reflection, madam. but that I saw you an exception to it-Where's my lady?

Lord T. That, I believe, is impossible to guess
Man. Then I won't try, my lord.

Lord T. But 'tis probable I may hear her by that time I have been four or five hour

Lord T. Look you, my grave lady Grace -in one serious word-I wish you had him. in bed. Lady G. I can't help that.

Man. Now if that were my case-I belie

Lord T. Ha! you can't help it, ha, ha! The I-But I beg pardon, my lord.

« EelmineJätka »