Isa. Ay, ay, the more for that; that keeps themselves more ridiculous; his actions are the title to all you have the more in him. the result of thinking, and he has sense enough Ind. The more in him!-he scorns the to make even virtue fashionable. thought— Isa. Then he-be-he Isa. Come, come, if he were the honest fool you take him for, why has he kept you Ind. Well, be not so eager. If he is an here these three weeks, without sending you ill man let's look into his stratagems; here is to Bristol in search of your father, your family, another of them. [Shows a Letter] Here's and your relations? two hundred and fifty pounds in bank notes. Ind. I am convinced he still designs it; beWhy, dear aunt, now here's another piece of sides, has he not writ to Bristol? and has not skill for you, which I own I cannot compre-he advice that my father has not been heard hend; and it is with a bleeding heart I hear of there almost these twenty years? you say any thing to the disadvantage of Mr. Isa. All sham, mere evasion; he is afraid, Bevil. When he is present I look upon him if he should carry you thither, your honest as one to whom I owe any life, and the sup-relations may take you out of his hands, and port of it; then again, as the man who loves so blow up all his wicked hopes at once. me with sincerity and honour. When his Ind. Wicked hopes! Did I ever give him eyes are cast another way, and I dare survey any such? him, my heart is painfully divided between Isa. Has he ever given you any honest ones? shame and love. I say thus it is with me while Can you say in your conscience he has ever I see him; and in his absence, I am enter-once offered to marry you? tained with nothing but your endeavours to Ind. No; but by his behaviour I am contear this amiable image from my heart, and vinced he will offer it the moment 'tis in his in its stead to place a base dissembler, an art- power, or consistent with his honour, to make ful invader of my happiness, my innocence, such a promise good to me. Isa. His honour! my honour. Isa. Ah, poor soul! has not his plot taken? Don't you die for him? has not the way he has taken been the most proper with you? Oh, ho! he has sense, and has judged the thing right. Ind. Go on then, since nothing can answer you; say what you will of him.-Heigho! Ind. I will rely upon it; therefore desire you will not make my life uneasy by these ungrateful jealousies of one to whom I am and wish to be obliged; for from his integrity alone I have resolved to hope for happiness. Isa. Nay, I have done my duty; if you won't see, at your peril be it. Ind. Let it be. - This is his hour of visiting me. [Aside] All the rest of my life is but waiting till he comes: I live only when I'm [Exit. Isa. Heigho! indeed. It is better to say so as you are now, than as many others are. There are among the destroyers of women the gentle, the generous, the mild, the affable, with him. the humble; who all, soon after their success Isa. Well, go thy way, thou wilful innoin their designs, turn to the contrary of those cent! I once had almost as much love for a characters. They embrace without love, they man who poorly left me to marry an estate; make vows without conscience of obligation; and I am now, against my will, what they they are partners, nay, seducers, to the crime, call an old maid: but I will not let the peewherein they pretend to be less guilty. vishness of that condition grow upon me; only Ind. That's truly observed. [Aside] But keep up the suspicion of it to prevent this what's all this to Bevil? creature's being any other than a virgin, except upon proper terms. [Exit. Isa. This is to Bevil and all mankind. Won't you be on your guard against those who would betray you? won't you doubt those Re-enter INDIANA, speaking to a Servant. who would contemn you for believing 'em?Such is the world, and such (since the beha- Ind. Desire Mr. Bevil to walk in.-Design! viour of one man to myself) have I believed impossible! a base, designing mind could neall the rest of the sex. [Aside. ver think of what he hourly puts in practice; Ind. I will not doubt the truth of Bevil, and yet, since the late rumour of his marriage, will not doubt it; he has not spoken it by an he seems more reserved than formerly; he organ that is given to lying: his eyes are all sends in too before he sees me, to know if that have ever told me that he was mine. I am at leisure. Such new respect may cover know his virtue, I know his filial piety, and coldness in the heart. It certainly makes me ought to trust his management with a father thoughtful.-I'll know the worst at once. to whom he has uncommon obligations. What lay such fair occasions in his way, that it shall have I to be concerned for? My lesson is very be impossible to avoid an explanation; for short. If he takes me for ever, my purpose these doubts are insupportable.-But see he of life is only to please him; if he leaves me, comes and clears them all. (which heaven avert!) I know he'll do it nobly; and I shall have nothing to do but to learn to die, after worse than death has happened to me. Enter BEVIL. I'll Bevil. Madam, your most obedient. I am afraid I broke in upon your rest last night; Isa. Ay, do persist in your credulity! flatter 'twas very late before we parted; but 'twas yourself that a man of his figure and fortune your own fault; I never saw you in such will make himself the jest of the town, and agreeable humour. marry a handsome beggar for love. Ind. I am extremely glad we were both Ind. The town! I must tell you, madam, pleased; for I thought I never saw you better the fools that laugh at Mr. Bevil will but make company. Bevil. Me, madam? you rally; I said very naments of the whole creation; to be conlittle. scious that from his superfluity an innocent, Ind. But I am afraid you heard me say a a virtuous spirit is supported above the tempgreat deal; and when a woman is in the talk-tations, the sorrows of life; that he sees saing vein, the most agreeable thing a man can tisfaction, health, and gladness in her coundo, you know, is to have patience to hear her, tenance, while he enjoys the happiness of seeBevil. Then it's a pity, madam, you should ing her (as that I will suppose too, or he ever be silent, that we might be always agree- must be too abstracted, too insensible): I say, able to one another. if he is allowed to delight in that prospect, alas! what mighty matter is there in all this? Ind. No mighty matter in so disinterested a friendship. Ind. If I had your talent or power to make my actions speak for me, I might indeed be silent, and yet pretend to something more than the agreeable. Bevil. Disinterested! I can't think him so. Bevil. If I might be vain of any thing in Your hero, madam, is no more than what my power, madam, it is that my understand- every gentleman ought to be, and I believe ing from all your sex has marked you out as very many are: he is only one who takes the most deserving object of my esteem. more delight in reflections than in sensations; Ind. Should I think I deserve this, it were he is more pleased with thinking than eating. enough to make my vanity forfeit the very that's the utmost you can say of him. Why, esteem you offer me. Bevil. How so, madam? Ind. Because esteem is the result of reason; and to deserve it from good sense the height of human glory. Nay, I had rather a man of honour should pay me that, than all the hoImage of a sincere and humble love. Becil. You certainly distinguish right, madam; love often kindles from external merit. only. Ind. But esteem arises from a higher source, the merit of the soul. serve it. Becil. True; and great souls only can de[Bows respectfully. Ind. Now I think they are greater still that can so charitably part with it.' madam, a greater expense than all this men Ind. No, that he does not. Bevil. Nor bottle companions. Bevil. Nor loose women. Ind. No, I'm sure he does not. Bevil. Take my word then, if your admired hero is not liable to any of these kind of demands, there's no such pre-eminence in this as you imagine: nay, this way of expense Bevil. Now, madam, you make me vain, since the utmost pride and pleasure of my you speak of is what exalts and raises him life is that I esteem you-as I ought. that has a taste for it, and at the same time Ind. As he ought! Still more perplexing! his delight is incapable of satiety, disgust, or he neither saves nor kills my hope. [Aside. penitence. Bevil. But, madam, we grow grave, methinks. Let's find some other subject.-Pray how did you like the opera last night? Ind. First give me leave to thank you for my tickets. say Bevil. Oh! your servant, madam. Ind. But still I insist his having no private interest in the action makes it prodigious, almost incredible. Bevil. Dear madam, I never knew you more mistaken. Why, who can be more an usurer than he who lays out his money in such va Ind. Now once more, to try him. [Aside] luable purchases? If pleasure be worth pur I was saying just now, I believe, you would chasing, how great a pleasure is it to bim never let me dispute with you, and I dare who has a true taste of life to ease an aching it will always be so: however, I must heart, to see the human countenance lighted have your opinion upon a subject which cre- up into smiles of joy on the receipt of a bit ated a debate betwixt my aunt and me just of ore which is superfluous and otherwise before you came hither. She would needs useless in a man's own pocket! What could have it that no man ever does any extraordi- a man do better with his cash? This is the nary kindness or service for a woman, but effect of a humane disposition, where there is only a general tie of nature and common Bevil. Well, madam, indeed I can't but be necessity; what then must it be when we of her mind. serve an object of merit, of admiration? Ind. Well, the more you argue against it, for his own sake. I had best hasten Ind. What, though he would maintain and support her, without demanding any thing of the more I shall admire the generosity. her on her part? Bevil. Nay then, madam, 'tis time to fly, Becil. Why, madam, is making an expense after a declaration that my opinion strengthens in the service of a valuable woman (for such my adversary's argument. I must suppose her), though she should never to my appointment with Mr. Myrtle, and be do him any favour, nay, though she should gone while we are friends, and-before things never know who did her such service, such are brought to an extremity. [Exit carelessly. a mighty heroic business? Ind. Certainly! I should think he must be a man of an uncommon mould. Re-enter ISABELLA. Isa. Well, madam, what think now, pray? best a better taste in expense. To bestow Ind. I protest I begin to fear he is wholly On upon one whom he may think one of the or- disinterested in what he does for me. my heart, he has no other view but the mere not being her equal, never had opportunity pleasure of doing it, and has neither good or of being her slave. I am my master's servant bad designs upon me. for hire, I am my mistress's from choice, would Isa. Ah, dear niece! don't be in fear of she but approve my passion. both; I'll warrant you you will know time enough that he is not indifferent. Ind. You please me when you tell me so; for if he has any wishes towards me, I know he will not pursue them but with honour. Isa. I wish I were as confident of one as t'other. I saw the respectful downcast of his eye when you catch'd him gazing at you during the music. Oh, the undissembled, guilty look! Phil. I think it is the first time I ever heard you speak of it with any sense of anguish, if you really do suffer any. Tom. Ah, Phillis! can you doubt after what you have seen? nor Phil. I know not what I have seen what I have heard; but since I am at leisure, you may tell me when you fell in love with me, how you fell in love with me, and what you have suffered, or are ready to suffer, for Ind. But did you observe any thing really? me. I thought he looked most charmingly graceful. Tom. Oh, the unmerciful jade! when I'm How engaging is modesty in a man, when in haste about my master's letter; but I must one knows there is a great mind within! go through it. [Aside] Ah! too well I reIsa. Ah, niece! some men's modesty serves member when, and how, and on what occatheir wickedness, as hypocrisy gains the re-sion, I was first surprised. It was on the first spect due to piety. But I will own to you of April, one thousand seven hundred and there is one hopeful symptom, if there could fifteen, I came into Mr. Sealand's service. I be such a thing as a disinterested lover; but was then a hobble-de-hoy, and you a pretty, till-till-tilllittle, tight girl, a favourite handmaid of the housekeeper. At that time we neither of us Ind. Till what? Isa. Till I know whether Mr. Myrtle and knew what was in us. I remember I was orMr. Bevil are really friends or foes: and that dered to get out of the window, one pair of I will be convinced of before I sleep; for you stairs, to rub the sashes clean; the person emshall not be deceived. [Exit. ployed on the inner side was your charming Ind. I'm sure I never shall, if your fears self, whom I had never seen before. can guard me. In the mean time, I'll wrap Phil. I think I remember the silly accident. myself up in the integrity of my own heart, What made ye, you oaf, ready to fall down nor dare to doubt of his. into the street? As conscious honour all his actions steers, ACT III. SCENE I-SEALAND'S House. [Exit. Tom. You know not, I warrant you; you could not guess what surprised me; you took no delight when you immediately grew wanton in your conquest, and put your lips close and breath'd upon the glass; and when my lips approached, you rubbed a dirty cloth against my face, and hid your beauteous form; when I again drew near, you spit and rubbed, and smiled at my undoing. Enter Toм, meeting PHILLIS. Tom. Well, Phillis!-What! with a face as if you had never seen me before ?-What Phil. What silly thoughts you men have! a work have I to do now! She has seen somet Tom. We were Pyramus and Thisbe; but new visitant at their house whose airs she has ten times harder was my fate: Pyramus could catch'd, and is resolved to practise them upon peep only through a wall; I saw her, saw my me. Numberless are the changes she'll dance Thisbe, in all her beauty; but as much kept through before she'll answer this plain ques-from her as if a hundred walls were between; tion, videlicet, Have you delivered my mas-for there was more, there was her will against ter's letter to your lady? Nay, I know her too me. Would she but relent! · Oh, Phillis! well to ask an account of it in an ordinary Phillis! shorten my torment, and declare you way; I'll be in my airs as well as she. [Asi-pity me. de] Well, madam, as unhappy as you are at Phil. I believe it's very sufferable; the pain present pleased to make me, I would not in is not so exquisite but that you may bear it the general be any other than what I am; I a little longer. would not be a bit wiser, a bit richer, a bit Tom. Oh, my charming Phillis! if all detaller, a bit shorter, than I am at this instant. pended on my fair one's will, I could with [Looks stedfastly at her. glory suffer; but, dearest creature! consider Phil. Did ever any body doubt, master our miserable state. Thomas, but that you were extremely satisfied Phil. How! miserable? with your sweet self? Tom. We are miserable to be in love, and Tom. I am indeed. The thing I have least under the command of others than those we reason to be satisfied with is my fortune, and love. With that generous passion in the heart I am glad of my poverty: perhaps, if I were to be sent to and fro on errands, called, checked, rich, I should overlook the finest woman in and rated, for the meanest trifles-Oh, Phillis! the world, that wants nothing but riches to you don't know how china many and cups be thought so. glasses my passion for you has made Phil. How prettily was that said! But I'll break: you have broken my fortune as well have a great deal more before I'll say one as my heart. word. me [Aside. Phil. Well, Mr. Thomas, I cannot but own Tom. I should perhaps have been stupidly to you that I believe your master writes and above her had I not been her equal; and by you speak the best of any men in the world Never was a woman so well pleased with a Phil. No, but he has so much love for his letter as my young lady was with his, and mistress. this is an answer to it. Gives him a Letter. Luc. But I thought I heard him kiss you: Tom. This was well done, my dearest! why do you suffer that? Consider, we must strike out some pretty live- Phil. Why, madam, we vulgar take it to lihood for ourselves by closing their affairs: be a sign of love. We servants, we poor Luc. But can't you trust one another without such earnest down? it will be nothing for them to give us a little people, that have nothing but our persons to being of our own, some small tenement, out bestow or treat for, squeeze with our hands, of their large possessions. Whatever they and seal with our lips, to ratify vows and give us, it will be more than what they keep promises. for themselves: one acre with Phillis would be worth a whole county without her. Phil. Oh, could I but believe you! Tom. If not the utterance, believe the touch, of my lips. [Kisses her. Phil. There's no contradicting you. How closely you argue, Tom! Phil. We don't think it safe, any more than you gentry, to come together without deeds executed. Luc. Thou art a pert merry hussy. Tom. And will closer in due time; but I must hasten with this letter, to hasten towards the possession of you--then, Phillis, consider Phil. I have done, madam; and I won't how I must be reveng'd (look to it) of all ask you what you intend to do with Mr. your skittishness, shy looks, and at best, but Myrtle; what your father will do with Mr. coy compliances. Bevil; nor what you all, especially my lady, Phil. Oh, Tom! you grow wanton and sen- mean by admitting Mr. Cimberton as partisual, as my lady calls it: I must not endure cularly here as if he were married to you al it. Oh, foh! you are a man, an odious, filthy, ready; nay, you are married actually as far male creature! you should behave, if you had as people of quality are. a right sense, or were a man of sense, like Luc. How's that? Mr. Cimberton, with distance and indifference; Phil. You have different beds in the same and not rush on one as if you were seiz-house. ing a prey. But hush-the ladies are coming. Luc. Pshaw! I have a very great value for Good Tom, don't kiss me above once, and be Mr. Bevil, but have absolutely put an end to gone. Lard! we have been fooling and toy- his pretensions in the letter I gave you for ing, and not consider'd the main business of him. our masters' and mistresses'. Phil. Then Mr. Myrtle— Tom. Why their business is to be fooling Luc. He had my parents' leave to apply to and toying as afsoon as the parchments are me, and by that he has won me and my ready. fections; who is to have this body of mine Phil. Well remembered-Parchments. My without 'em, it seems, is nothing to me: my lady, to my knowledge, is preparing writings mother says 'tis indecent for me to let my between her coxcomb cousin, Cimberton, and thoughts stray about the person of my mistress, though my master has an eye to band; nay, she says a maid rightly virtuous, the parchments already prepared between your though she may have been where her lover master, Mr. Bevil, and my mistress; and I be- was a thousand times, should not have made lieve my mistress herself has signed and sealed observations enough to know him from anoin her heart to Mr. Myrtle. Did I not bid ther man when she sees him in a third place. you kiss me but once and be gone? but I know you won't be satisfied. I? Tom. No, you smooth creature! how should my bus Phil. That's more than the severity of nun; for not to see when one may is hardly possible; not to see when one can't is very [Kisses her Hand, easy at this rate, madam, there are a great Phil. Well, since you are so humble, or many whom you have not seen whoso cool, as to ravish my hand only, I'll take Luc. Mamma says the first time you see my leave of you like a great lady, and you a your husband should be at that instant he is man of quality. [They salute formally. made so. When your father, with the help of the minister, gives you to him, then you [Offers to kiss her more closely. are to see him, then you are to observe and Phil. No, pr'ythee, Tom, mind your busi- take notice of him, because then you are lo ness. Oh, here is my young mistress! [Tom obey him. taps her Neck behind, and kisses his Fingers] Go, ye liquorish fool. Tom. Plague of all this state. Enter LUCINDA. Phil. But does not my lady remember you [Exit Tom. are to love as well as to obey? Luc. Who was that you were hurrying away? Luc. To love is a passion, 'tis a desire, and we must have no desires. Óh! I cannot endure the reflection! With what insensibility on my part, with what more than patience, have I been expos'd and offer'd to some awkward booby or other in every county of Great Britain! Phil. One that I had no mind to part with. Luc. Why did you turn him away then? Phil. For your ladyship's service, to carry Phil. Indeed, madam, I wonder I never your ladyship's letter to his master. I could heard you speak of it before with this indig hardly get the rogue away. Luc. Why, has he so little love for his master? nation. Luc. Every corner of the land has presented me with a wealthy coxcomb: as fast as one treaty has gone off another has come on, been a matron of Sparta, one might, with less till my name and person have been the tittle- indecency, have had ten children, according tattle of the whole town. to that modest institution, than one under the Phil. But, madam, all these vexations will confusion of our modern barefac'd manner. end very soon in one for all: Mr. Cimberton Luc. And yet, poor woman, she has gone is your mother's kinsman, and three hundred through the whole ceremony, and here I stand years an older gentleman than any lover you a melancholy proof of it. [Aside. ever had; for which reason, with that of his Mrs. S. We will talk then of business. prodigious large estate, she is resolved on him, That girl, walking about the room there, is and has sent to consult the lawyers accord- to be your wife: she has, I confess, no ideas, ingly; nay, has, whether you know it or no, no sentiments, that speak her born of a thinkbeen in treaty with sir Geoffry, who, to joining mother. in the settlement, has accepted of a sum to Cim. I have observed her; her lively look, do it, and is every moment expected in town free air, and disengaged countenance, speak her very for that purpose. Luc. How do you get all this intelligence? Phil. By an art I have, I thank my stars, beyond all the waiting-maids in Great Britain; the art of listening, madam, for your ladyship's service. Luc. Very what? Cim. If you please, madam, to set her a little that way.. Mrs. S. Lucinda, say nothing to him, you are not a match for him; when you are marLuc. I shall soon know as much as you do. ried you may speak to such a husband when Leave me, leave me, Phillis; be gone; here, you're spoken to; but I am disposing of you here, I'll turn you out. My mother says above yourself every way. must not converse with my servants, though Cim. Madam, you cannot but observe the I must converse with no one else. [Exit Phil-inconveniences I expose myself to, in hopes lis] Here he comes with my mother-it's much that your ladyship will be the consort of my if he looks at me; or if he does, takes no better part. As for the young woman, she is more notice of me than of any other move- rather an impediment than a help to a man able in the room. Enter MRS. SEALAND and CIMBERTON. Mrs. S. How do I admire this noble, this learned taste of yours, and the worthy regard you have to our own ancient and honourable house, in consulting a means to keep the blood as pure and as regularly descended as may be. of letters and speculation. Madam, there is no reflection, no philosophy, can at all times subdue the sensitive life, but the animal shall sometimes carry away the man-Ha! ay, the vermilion of her lips! Luc. Pray don't talk of me thus. Cim. The pretty enough pant of her bosom. Luc. Intolerable! Cim. High health! Luc. The grave, easy impudence of him! Cim. Why, really, madam, the young women of this age are treated with discourses of such a tendency, and their imaginations so bewilder'd in flesh and blood, that a man of reason can't talk to be understood: they have no ideas of happiness but what are more gross than the gratification of hunger and thirst. Cim. I say, madam, her impatience, while Luc. With how much reflection he is a we are looking at her, throws out all attraccoxcomb! [Aside. tions-her arms-her neck-what a spring in Luc. Stupid coxcomb! Cim. And in truth, madam, I have consi-her_step! dered it as a most brutal custom, that per- Luc. Don't you run me over thus, you sons of the first character in the world should strange unaccountable- Cin. What an elasticity in her veins and arteries! Luc. I have no veins, no arteries! Mrs. S. Oh, child! hear him; he talks finely; Luc. She that willingly goes to bed to thee he's a scholar; he knows what you have. must have no shame, I'm sure. [Aside. Cim. The speaking invitation of her shape, Mrs. S. Oh, cousin Cimberton! cousin Cim-the gathering of herself up, and the indignaberton! how abstracted, how refined is your tion you see in the pretty little thing!-Now sense of things! but indeed it is too true, I am considering her on this occasion but as there is nothing so ordinary as to say, in the one that is to be pregnant; and pregnant unbest govern'd families, my master and lady doubtedly she will be yearly: I fear I shan't are gone to bed; one does not know but it for many years have discretion enough to give might have been said of one's self. her one fallow season. [Hides her Face with her Fan. Luc. Monster! there's no bearing it. The Cim. Lycurgus, madam, instituted other- hideous sot!-There's no enduring it, to be wise: among the Lacedemonians the whole thus surveyed like a steed at sale! female world was pregnant, but none but the Cim. At sale!-she's very illiterate; but she's mothers themselves knew by whom; their very well limb'd too. Turn her in, I see what meetings were secret, and the amorous con- she is. gress always by stealth; and no such profess- Mrs. S. Go, you creature, I am asham'd of ed doings between the sexes as are tolerated you. [Exit Lucinda, in a Rage. among us, under the audacious word, mar- Cim. No harm done.-You know, madam, riage. the better sort of people, as I observed to you, Mrs. S. Oh! bad I lived in those days, and treat by their lawyers of weddings; [Adjusts |