ACT I.

Scene I.—An Apartment inYoung Honeywood'sHouse.

EnterSir William HoneywoodandJarvis.

Sir Will.Good Jarvis, make no apologies for this honest bluntness. Fidelity like yours, is the best excuse for every freedom.

Jarvis.I can't help being blunt, and being very angry too, when I hear you talk of disinheriting so good, so worthy a young gentleman as your nephew, my master. All the world loves him.

Sir Will.Say rather, that he loves all the world; that is his fault.

Jarvis.I'm sure there is no part of it more dear to him than you are, though he has not seen you since he was a child.

Sir Will.What signifies his affection to me? or how can I be proud of a place in a heart where every sharper and coxcomb finds an easy entrance?

Jarvis.I grant that he's rather too good-natured; that he's too much everyman's man; that he laughs this minute with one, and cries the next with another; but whose instructions may he thank for all this?

Sir Will.Not mine, sure! My letters to him during my employment in Italy, taught him only that philosophy which might prevent, not defend, his errors.

Jarvis.Faith, begging your honour's pardon, I'm sorry they taught him any philosophy at all; it has only served to spoil him. This same philosophy is a good horse in a stable, but an errant jade on a journey. For my own part, whenever I hear him mention the name on't, I'm always sure he's going to play the fool.

Sir Will.Don't let us ascribe his faults to his philosophy, I entreat you. No, Jarvis, his good-nature arises rather from his fears of offending the importunate, than his desire of making the deserving happy.

Jarvis.What it rises from, I don't know. But, to be sure, every body has it, that asks it.

Sir Will.Ay, or that does not ask it. I have been now for some time a concealed spectator of his follies, and find them as boundless as his dissipation.

Jarvis.And yet, faith, he has some fine name or other for them all. He call his extravagance, generosity; and his trusting every body, universal benevolence. It was but last week he went security for a fellow whose face he scarce knew, and that he called an act of exalted mu-mu-munificence; ay, that was the name he gave it.

Sir Will.And upon that I proceed, as my last effort, though with very little hopes to reclaim him. That very fellow has just absconded, and I have taken up the security. Now, my intentionis, to involve him in fictitious distress, before he has plunged himself into real calamity; to arrest him for that very debt, to clap an officer upon him, and then let him see which of his friends will come to his relief.

Jarvis.Well, if I could but any way see him thoroughly vexed, every groan of his would be music to me; yet, faith, I believe it impossible. I have tried to fret him myself every morning these three years; but, instead of being angry, he sits as calmly to hear me scold, as he does to his hair-dresser.

Sir Will.We must try him once more, however, and I'll go this instant to put my scheme into execution; and I don't despair of succeeding, as by your means, I can have frequent opportunities of being about him, without being known. What a pity it is, Jarvis, that any man's good will to others should produce so much neglect of himself, as to require correction! Yet, we must touch his weakness with a delicate hand. There are some faults so nearly allied to excellence, that we can scarce weed out the vice without eradicating the virtue.

Exit.

Jarvis.Well, go thy ways, Sir William Honeywood. It is not without reason that the world allows thee to be the best of men. But here comes his hopeful nephew; the strange, good-natured, foolish, open-hearted—And yet, all his faults are such that one loves him still the better for them.

EnterHoneywood.

Honeyw.Well, Jarvis, what messages from my friends this morning!

Jarvis.You have no friends.

Honeyw.Well; from my acquaintance, then?

Jarvis.(Pulling out bills.) A few of our usual cards of compliment,that's all. This bill from your tailor; this from your mercer; and this from the little broker in Crooked-lane. He says he has been at a great deal of trouble to get back the money you borrowed.

Honeyw.That I don't know; but I am sure we were at a great deal of trouble in getting him to lend it.

Jarvis.He has lost all patience.

Honeyw.Then he has lost a very good thing.

Jarvis.There's that ten guineas you were sending to the poor gentleman and his children in the Fleet. I believe that would stop his mouth for a while at least.

Honeyw.Ay, Jarvis, but what will fill their mouths in the meantime? Must I be cruel because he happens to be importunate; and, to relieve his avarice, leave them to insupportable distress?

Jarvis.'Sdeath, sir, the question now is, how to relieve yourself. Yourself—Haven't I reason to be out of my senses, when I see things going at sixes and sevens?

Honeyw.Whatever reason you may have for being out of your senses, I hope you'll allow that I'm not quite unreasonable for continuing in mine.

Jarvis.You're the only man alive in your present situation that could do so—Every thing upon the waste. There's Miss Richland and her fine fortune gone already, and upon the point of being given to your rival.

Honeyw.I'm no man's rival.

Jarvis.Your uncle in Italy preparing to disinherit you; your own fortune almost spent; and nothing but pressing creditors, false friends, and a pack of drunken servants that your kindness has made unfit for any other family.

Honeyw.Then they have the more occasion for being in mine.

Jarvis.So! What will you have done with him that I caught stealing your plate in the pantry? In the fact; I caught him in the fact.

Honeyw.In the fact? If so, I really think that we should pay him his wages, and turn him off.

Jarvis.He shall be turned off at Tyburn, the dog; we'll hang him, if it be only to frighten the rest of the family.

Honeyw.No, Jarvis: it's enough that we have lost what he has stolen, let us not add to the loss of a fellow-creature.

Jarvis.Very fine; well, here was the footman just now, to complain of the butler; he says he does most work, and ought to have most wages.

Honeyw.That's but just: though perhaps here comes the butler to complain of the footman.

Jarvis.Ay, it's the way with them all, from the scullion to the privy-counsellor. If they have a bad master, they keep quarrelling with him; if they have a good master they keep quarrelling with one another.

EnterButlerdrunk.

Butler.Sir, I'll not stay in the family with Jonathan: you must part with him, or part with me, that's the ex-ex-position of the matter, sir.

Honeyw.Full and explicit enough. But what's his fault, good Phillip?

Butler.Sir, he's given to drinking, sir, and I shall have my morals corrupted, by keeping such company.

Honeyw.Ha! ha! he has such a diverting way—

Jarvis.O! quite amusing.

Butler.I find my wines a-going,sir; and liquors don't go without mouths, sir; I hate a drunkard, sir.

Honeyw.Well, well, Philip, I'll hear you upon that another time, so go to bed now.

Jarvis.To bed! Let him go to the devil.

Butler.Begging your honour's pardon, and begging your pardon, master Jarvis, I'll not go to bed, nor to the devil neither. I have enough to do to mind my cellar. I forgot, your honour, Mr. Croaker is below. I came on purpose to tell you.

Honeyw.Why didn't you show him up, blockhead?

Butler.Show him up, sir? With all my heart, sir. Up or down, all's one to me.

Exit.

Jarvis.Ay, we have one or other of that family in this house from morning till night. He comes on the old affair, I suppose; the match between his son, that's just returned from Paris, and Miss Richland, the young lady he's guardian to.

Honeyw.Perhaps so. Mr. Croaker, knowing my friendship for the young lady, has got it into his head that I can persuade her to what I please.

Jarvis.Ah! if you loved yourself but half as well as she loves you, we should soon see a marriage that would set all things to rights again.

Honeyw.Love me! Sure, Jarvis, you dream. No, no; her intimacy with me never amounted to more than friendship—mere friendship. That she is the most lovely woman that ever warmed the human heart with desire, I own. But never let me harbour a thought of making her unhappy, by a connection with one so unworthy her merits, as I am. No, Jarvis, it shall be my study to serve her, even in spite of my wishes; and to secure herhappiness, though it destroys my own.

Jarvis.Was ever the like? I want patience.

Honeyw.Besides, Jarvis, though I could obtain Miss Richland's consent, do you think I could succeed with her guardian, or Mrs. Croaker, his wife; who, though both very fine in their way, are yet a little opposite in their dispositions, you know?

Jarvis.Opposite enough, Heaven knows; the very reverse of each other; she all laugh and no joke, he always complaining and never sorrowful; a fretful poor soul, that has a new distress for every hour in the four-and-twenty—

Honeyw.Hush, hush, he's coming up! he'll hear you.

Jarvis.One whose voice is a passing bell—

Honeyw.Well, well, go do.

Jarvis.A raven that bodes nothing but mischief; a coffin and cross bones; a bundle of rue; a sprig of deadly nightshade; a—(Honeywood,stopping his mouth, at last pushes him off.)

ExitJarvis.

Honeyw.I must own, my old monitor is not entirely wrong. There is something in my friend Croaker's conversation that quite depresses me. His very mirth is an antidote to all gaiety, and his appearance has a stronger effect on my spirits than an undertaker's shop.—Mr. Croaker, this is such a satisfaction—

EnterCroaker.

Croaker.A pleasant morning to Mr. Honeywood, and many of them. How is this? You look most shockingly to-day, my dear friend. I hope this weather does not affect your spirits. To be sure, if this weather continues—I say nothing—but God send we be all better this day three months.

"Croaker.—A pleasant morning to Mr. Honeywood."—p.272.

Honeyw.I heartily concur in the wish, though, I own, not in your apprehensions.

Croaker.May be not. Indeed, what signifies what weather we have, in a country going to ruin like ours? Taxes rising and trade falling. Money flying out of the kingdom, and Jesuitsswarming into it. I know at this time no less than a hundred and twenty-seven Jesuits between Charing-cross and Temple-bar.

Honeyw.The Jesuits will scarce pervert you or me, I should hope?

Croaker.May be not. Indeed what signifies whom they pervert in a country that has scarce any religion to lose? I'm only afraid for our wives and daughters.

Honeyw.I have no apprehensions for the ladies, I assure you.

Croaker.May be not. Indeed what signifies whether they be perverted or not? The women in my time were good for something. I have seen a lady dressed from top to toe in her own manufactures formerly. But now-a-days the devil a thing of their own manufacture about them, except their faces.

Honeyw.But, however these faults may be practised abroad, you don't find them at home, either with Mrs. Croaker, Olivia, or Miss Richland.

Croaker.The best of them will never be canonised for a saint when she's dead. By the by, my dear friend, I don't find this match between Miss Richland and my son much relished, either by one side or t'other.

Honeyw.I thought otherwise.

Croaker.Ah, Mr. Honeywood, a little of your fine serious advice to the young lady might go far: I know she has a very exalted opinion of your understanding.

Honeyw.But would not that be usurping an authority that more properly belongs to yourself?

Croaker.My dear friend, you know but little of my authority at home. People think, indeed, because they see me come out in a morning thus, with a pleasant face, and to make my friends merry, that all's well within. But Ihave cares that would break a heart of stone. My wife has so encroached upon every one of my privileges, that I'm now no more than a mere lodger in my own house.

Honeyw.But a little spirit exerted on your side might perhaps restore your authority.

Croaker.No, though I had the spirit of a lion. I do rouse sometimes. But what then? always haggling and haggling. A man is tired of getting the better, before his wife is tired of losing the victory.

Honeyw.It's a melancholy consideration indeed, that our chief comforts often produce our greatest anxieties, and that an increase of our possessions is but an inlet to new disquietudes.

Croaker.Ah, my dear friend, these were the very words of poor Dick Doleful to me not a week before he made away with himself. Indeed, Mr. Honeywood, I never see you but you put me in mind of poor Dick. Ah, there was merit neglected for you! and so true a friend; we loved each other for thirty years, and yet he never asked me to lend him a single farthing.

Honeyw.Pray what could induce him to commit so rash an action at last?

Croaker.I don't know, some people were malicious enough to say it was keeping company with me; because we used to meet now and then, and open our hearts to each other. To be sure I loved to hear him talk, and he loved to hear me talk; poor dear Dick! He used to say, that Croaker rhymed to joker; and so we used to laugh—Poor Dick!

[Going to cry.

Honeyw.His fate affects me.

Croaker.Ay, he grew sick of this miserable life, where we do nothing but eat and grow hungry, dress and undress, get up and lie down; whilereason, that should watch like a nurse by our side, falls as fast asleep as we do.

Honeyw.To say truth, if we compare that part of life which is to come, by that which we have passed, the prospect is hideous.

Croaker.Life at the greatest and best is but a froward child, that must be humoured and coaxed a little till it falls asleep, and then all the care is over.

Honeyw.Very true, sir; nothing can exceed the vanity of our existence, but the folly of our pursuits. We wept when we came into the world, and every day tells us why.

Croaker.Ah, my dear friend, it is a perfect satisfaction to be miserable with you. My son Leontine shan't lose the benefit of such fine conversation. I'll just step home for him. I am willing to show him so much seriousness in one scarce older than himself—And what if I bring my last letter to the Gazetteer on the increase and progress of earthquakes? It will amuse us, I promise you. I there prove how the late earthquake is coming round to pay us another visit from London to Lisbon, from Lisbon to the Canary Islands, from the Canary Islands to Palmyra, from Palmyra to Constantinople, and so from Constantinople back to London again.

Exit.

Honeyw.Poor Croaker! His situation deserves the utmost pity. I shall scarce recover my spirits these three days. Sure, to live upon such terms is worse than death itself. And yet, when I consider my own situation, a broken fortune, a hopeless passion, friends in distress; the wish but not the power to serve them—(pausing and sighing.)

EnterButler.

Butler.More company below, sir; Mrs. Croaker and Miss Richland; shall I show them up? But they're showing up themselves.

Exit.

EnterMrs. CroakerandMiss Richland.

Miss Rich.You're always in such spirits.

Mrs. Croaker.We have just come, my dear Honeywood, from the auction. There was the old deaf dowager, as usual, bidding like a fury against herself. And then so curious in antiques! herself the most genuine piece of antiquity in the whole collection.

Honeyw.Excuse me, ladies, if some uneasiness from friendship makes me unfit to share in this good humour: I know you'll pardon me.

Mrs. Croaker.I vow, he seems as melancholy as if he had taken a dose of my husband this morning. Well, if Richland here can pardon you, I must.

Miss Rich.You would seem to insinuate, madam, that I have particular reasons for being disposed to refuse it.

Mrs. Croaker.Whatever I insinuate, my dear, don't be so ready to wish an explanation.

Miss Rich.I own I should be sorry Mr. Honeywood's long friendship and mine should be misunderstood.

Honeyw.There's no answering for others, madam; but I hope you'll never find me presuming to offer more than the most delicate friendship may readily allow.

Miss Rich.And, I shall be prouder of such a tribute from you, than the most passionate professions from others.

Honeyw.My own sentiments, madam: friendship is a disinterested commerce between equals; love, anabject intercourse between tyrants and slaves.

Miss Rich.And, without a compliment, I know none more disinterested or more capable of friendship than Mr. Honeywood.

Mrs. Croaker.And indeed I know nobody that has more friends, at least among the ladies. Miss Fruzz, Miss Odbody, and Miss Winterbottom, praise him in all companies. As for Miss Biddy Bundle, she's his professed admirer.

Miss Rich.Indeed! an admirer! I did not know, sir, you were such a favourite there. But is she seriously so handsome? Is she the mighty thing talked of?

Honeyw.The town, madam, seldom begins to praise a lady's beauty, till she's beginning to lose it.

[Smiling.

Mrs. Croaker.But she's resolved never to lose it, it seems; for as her natural face decays, her skill improves in making the artificial one. Well, nothing diverts me more than one of those fine old dressy things, who thinks to conceal her age by everywhere exposing her person; sticking herself up in the front of a side-box; trailing through a minuet at Almack's; and then, in the public gardens, looking for all the world like one of the painted ruins of the place.

Honeyw.Every age has its admirers, ladies. While you, perhaps, are trading among the warmer climates of youth, there ought to be some to carry on a useful commerce in the frozen latitudes beyond fifty.

Miss Rich.But then the mortifications they must suffer before they can be fitted out for traffic! I have seen one of them fret a whole morning at her hair-dresser, when all the fault was her face.

Honeyw.And yet I'll engage, has carried that face at last to a very good market. This good-natured town, madam, has husbands, like spectacles, to fit every age, from fifteen to four-score.

Mrs. Croaker.Well, you're a dear good-natured creature. But you know you're engaged with us this morning upon a strolling party. I want to show Olivia the town and the things; I believe I shall have business for you for the whole day.

Honeyw.I am sorry, madam, I have an appointment with Mr. Croaker, which it is impossible to put off.

Mrs. Croaker.What! with my husband? Then I'm resolved to take no refusal. Nay, I protest you must. You know I never laugh so much as with you.

Honeyw.Why, if I must, I must, I'll swear, you have put me into such spirits. Well, do you find jest, and I'll find laugh, I promise you. We'll wait for the chariot in the next room.

[Exeunt.

EnterLeontineandOlivia.

Leont.There they go, thoughtless and happy. My dearest Olivia, what would I give to see you capable of sharing in their amusements, and as cheerful as they are!

Olivia.How, my Leontine, how can I be cheerful, when I have so many terrors to oppress me? The fear of being detected by this family, and the apprehensions of a censuring world, when I must be detected——

Leont.The world! my love, what can it say? At worst, it can only say that, being compelled by a mercenary guardian to embrace a life you disliked, you formed a resolution of flying with the man of your choice; that you confidedin his honour, and took refuge in my father's house; the only one where yours could remain without censure.

"Croaker.—Well, and you have both ofyou a mutual choice."—p.279.

Olivia.But consider, Leontine, your disobedience and my indiscretion: your being sent to France to bring home a sister; and, instead of a sister, bringing home——

Leont.One dearer than a thousand sisters; one that I am convinced will be equally dear to the rest of the family, when she comes to be known.

Olivia.And that I fear, will shortly be.

Leont.Impossible till we ourselves think proper to make the discovery. My sister, you know, has been with her aunt, at Lyons, since she was a child; and you find every creature in the family takes you for her.

Olivia.But mayn't she write? mayn't her aunt write?

Leont.Her aunt scarce ever writes, and all my sister's letters are directed to me.

Olivia.But won't your refusing Miss Richland, for whom you know the old gentleman intends you, create a suspicion?

Leont.There, there's my masterstroke. I have resolved not to refuse her; nay, an hour hence I have consented to go with my father, to make her an offer of my heart and fortune.

Olivia.Your heart and fortune!

Leont.Don't be alarmed, my dearest. Can Olivia think so meanly of my honour, or my love, as to suppose I could ever hope for happiness from any but her? No, my Olivia, neither the force, nor permit me to add, the delicacy of my passion, leave any room to suspect me. I only offer Miss Richland a heart, I am convinced she will refuse; as I am confident, that without knowing it, her affections are fixed upon Mr. Honeywood.

Olivia.Mr. Honeywood! You'll excuse my apprehensions; but when your merits come to be put in the balance—

Leont.You view them with too much partiality. However, by making this offer, I show a seeming compliancewith my father's commands; and perhaps, upon her refusal, I may have his consent to choose for myself.

Olivia.Well, I submit. And, yet my Leontine, I own, I shall envy her, even your pretended addresses. I consider every look, every expression of your esteem, as due only to me. This is folly, perhaps: I allow it; but it is natural to suppose, that merit which has made an impression on one's own heart, may be powerful over that of another.

Leont.Don't, my life's treasure, don't let us make imaginary evils, when you know we have so many real ones to encounter. At worst, you know, if Miss Richland should consent, or my father refuse his pardon, it can but end in a trip to Scotland; and——

EnterCroaker.

Croaker.Where have you been, boy? I have been seeking you. My friend Honeywood here has been saying such comfortable things. Ah! he's an example indeed. Where is he? I left him here.

Leont.Sir, I believe you may see him, and hear him too, in the next room: he's preparing to go out with the ladies.

Croaker.Good gracious, can I believe my eyes or my ears? I'm struck dumb with his vivacity, and stunned with the loudness of his laugh. Was there ever such a transformation? (A laugh behind the scenes;Croakermimics it.) Ha! ha! ha! there it goes: a plague take their balderdash; yet I could expect nothing less, when my precious wife was of the party. On my conscience, I believe she could spread a horse-laugh through the pews of a tabernacle.

Leont.Since you find so many objections to a wife, sir, how can you beso earnest in recommending one to me?

Croaker.I have told you, and tell you again, boy, that Miss Richland's fortune must not go out of the family; one may find comfort in the money, whatever one does in the wife.

Leont.But, sir, though in obedience to your desire, I am ready to marry her; it may be possible, she has no inclination to me.

Croaker.I'll tell you once for all how it stands. A good part of Miss Richland's large fortune consists in a claim upon government, which my good friend, Mr. Lofty, assures me the treasury will allow. One half of this she is to forfeit, by her father's will, in case she refuses to marry you. So if she rejects you, we seize half her fortune; if she accepts you, we seize the whole, and a fine girl into the bargain.

Leont.But, sir, if you will but listen to reason—

Croaker.Come, then produce your reasons. I tell you I'm fixed, determined, so now produce your reasons. When I'm determined I always listen to reason, because it can then do no harm.

Leont.You have alleged that a mutual choice was the first requisite in matrimonial happiness—

Croaker.Well, and you have both of you a mutual choice. She has her choice—to marry you, or lose half her fortune; and you have your choice—to marry her, or pack out of doors without any fortune at all.

Leont.An only son, sir, might expect more indulgence.

Croaker.An only father, sir, might expect more obedience; besides, has not your sister here, that never disobliged me in her life, as good a right as you? He's a sad dog, Livy my dear, and would take all from you. But he shan't, I tell you he shan't, for you shall have your share.

Olivia.Dear sir, I wish you'd be convinced that I can never be happy in any addition to my fortune, which is taken from his.

Croaker.Well, well, it's a good child; so say no more, but come with me, and we shall see something that will give us a great deal of pleasure, I promise you; old Ruggins, the currycomb maker, lying in state: I'm told he makes a very handsome corpse, and becomes his coffin prodigiously. He was an intimate friend of mine, and these are friendly things we ought to do for each other.

[Exeunt.

ACT II.

Scene.—Croaker'shouse.

Miss Richland,Garnet.

Miss Rich.Olivia not his sister? Olivia not Leontine's sister? You amaze me!

Garnet.No more his sister than I am; I had it all from his own servant; I can get anything from that quarter.

Miss Rich.But how? Tell me again, Garnet.

Garnet.Why madam, as I told you before, instead of going to Lyons to bring home his sister, who has been there with her aunt these ten years he never went further than Paris; there he saw and fell in love with this young lady: by the bye, of a prodigious family.

Miss Rich.And brought her home to my guardian, as his daughter.

Garnet.Yes, and daughter she will be. If he don't consent to their marriage, they talk of trying what a Scotch parson can do.

Miss Rich.Well, I own they have deceived me—And so demurely as Olivia carried it too!—Would you believe it, Garnet, I told her all my secrets; and yet the sly cheat concealed all this from me?

Garnet.And, upon my word, madam, I don't much blame her; she was loth to trust one with her secrets, that was so very bad at keeping her own.

Miss Rich.But, to add to their deceit, the young gentleman, it seems, pretends to make me serious proposals. My guardian and he are to be here presently, to open the affair in form. You know I am to lose half my fortune if I refuse him.

Garnet.Yet what can you do? for being, as you are, in love with Mr. Honeywood, madam—

Miss Rich.How, idiot! what do you mean? In love with Mr. Honeywood! Is this to provoke me?

Garnet.That is, madam, in friendship with him; I meant nothing more than friendship, as I hope to be married; nothing more.

Miss Rich.Well, no more of this. As to my guardian and his son, theyshall find me prepared to receive them; I'm resolved to accept their proposal with seeming pleasure, to mortify them by compliance, and so throw the refusal at last upon them.

Garnet.Delicious! and that will secure your whole fortune to yourself. Well, who could have thought so innocent a face could cover so much cuteness?

Miss Rich.Why, girl, I only oppose my prudence to their cunning, and practise a lesson they have taught me against themselves.

Garnet.Then you're likely not long to want employment; for here they come, and in close conference.

EnterCroaker,Leontine.

Leont.Excuse me, sir, if I seem to hesitate upon the point of putting to the lady so important a question.

Croaker.Lord, good sir! moderate your fears; you're so plaguy shy, that one would think you had changed sexes. I tell you, we must have the half or the whole. Come, let me see with what spirit you begin. Well, why don't you? Eh? What? Well then—I must, it seems. Miss Richland, my dear, I believe you guess at our business; an affair which my son here comes to open, that nearly concerns your happiness.

Miss Rich.Sir, I should be ungrateful not to be pleased with anything that comes recommended by you.

Croaker.How, boy, could you desire a finer opportunity? Why don't you begin, I say?

[ToLeont.

Leont.'Tis true, madam, my father, madam, has some intentions—hem—of explaining an affair—which—himself—can best explain, madam.

Croaker.Yes, my dear; it comesentirely from my son; it's all a request of his own, madam. And I will permit him to make the best of it.

Leont.The whole affair is only this, madam; my father has a proposal to make, which he insists none but himself shall deliver.

Croaker.My mind misgives me, the fellow will never be brought on. (Aside.) In short, madam, you see before you one that loves you; one whose whole happiness is all in you.

Miss Rich.I never had any doubts of your regard, sir; and I hope you can have none of my duty.

Garnet.—"For being, as you are,in love with Mr. Honeywood, madam."—p.280.

Croaker.That's not the thing, my little sweeting, my love. No, no, another-guess lover than I, there he stands, madam; his very looks declare the force of his passion—Call up a look, you dog—But then, had you seen him, as I have, weeping, speaking soliloquies and blank verse, sometimes melancholy, and sometimes absent—

Miss Rich.I fear, sir, he's absent now; or such a declaration would have come most properly from himself.

Croaker.Himself, madam! He would die before he could make such a confession; and if he had not a channel for his passion through me, it would ere now have drowned his understanding.

Miss Rich.I must grant, sir, there are attractions in modest diffidence, above the force of words. A silentaddress is the genuine eloquence of sincerity.

Croaker.Madam, he has forgot to speak any other language; silence is become his mother-tongue.

Miss Rich.And it must be confessed, sir, it speaks very powerful in his favour. And yet, I shall be thought too forward in making such a confession; shan't I, Mr. Leontine?

Leont.Confusion! my reserve will undo me. But, if modesty attracts her, impudence may disgust her. I'll try. (Aside.) Don't imagine from my silence, madam, that I want a due sense of the honour and happiness intended me. My father, madam, tells me, your humble servant is not totally indifferent to you. He admires you; I adore you; and when we come together, upon my soul I believe we shall be the happiest couple in all St. James's.

Miss Rich.If I could flatter myself, you thought as you speak, sir—

Leont.Doubt my sincerity, madam? By your dear self I swear. Ask the brave if they desire glory, ask cowards if they covet safety—

Croaker.Well, well, no more questions about it.

Leont.Ask the sick if they long for health, ask misers if they love money, ask—

Croaker.Ask a fool if he can talk nonsense! What's come over the boy? What signifies asking, when there's not a soul to give you an answer? If you would ask to the purpose, ask this lady's consent to make you happy.

Miss Rich.Why indeed, sir, his uncommon ardour almost compels me, forces me, to comply, And yet I am afraid he'll despise a conquest gainedwith too much ease; won't you Mr. Leontine?

Leont.Confusion! (Aside.) O, by no means, madam, by no means. And yet, madam, you talked of force. There is nothing I would avoid so much as compulsion in a thing of this kind. No, madam; I will still be generous, and leave you at liberty to refuse.

Croaker.But I tell you, sir, the lady is not at liberty. It's a match. You see she says nothing. Silence gives consent.

Leont.But, sir, she talked of force. Consider, sir, the cruelty of constraining her inclinations.

Croaker.But I say there's no cruelty. Don't you know, blockhead, that girls have always a round-about way of saying Yes before company? So get you both gone together into the next room, and hang him that interrupts the tender explanation. Get you gone, I say; I'll not hear a word.

Leont.But, sir, I must beg leave to insist—

Croaker.Get off, you puppy, or I'll beg leave to insist upon knocking you down. Stupid whelp! But I don't wonder; the boy takes entirely after his mother.

[ExeuntMiss Rich.andLeont.

EnterMrs. Croaker.

Mrs. Croaker.Mr. Croaker, I bring you something, my dear, that I believe will make you smile.

Croaker.I'll hold you a guinea of that, my dear.

Mrs. Croaker.A letter; and, as I knew the hand, I ventured to open it.

Croaker.And how can you expect your breaking open my letters should give me pleasure?

Mrs. Croaker.Pooh, it's from yoursister at Lyons, and contains good news: read it.

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