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THE MAN OF THE WORLD:

A COMEDY,

IN FIVE ACTS.

BY CHARLES MACKLIN.

REMARKS.

THIS play was performed in Ireland, 1764, under the title of "The True-born Scotsman," and received the ap plause due to its great merit. It was not till 1781 that official permission was obtained for its representation in London, where it has ever since eminently increased the delights of the rational and legitimate drama. Mr. Macklin sustained the character of Sir Pertinax Macsycophant, which was considered an unequalled performance, till the appearance in it of the late Mr. Cooke, who is generally thought to have exceeded our author in his delineation of this arduous character.

Mr. Macklin's biographer says:-"Beside the merit of this piece in plot, character, sentiment, and diction, it is critically constructed in respect to the three unities of time, place, and action.-If many of our modern dramatic writers (as they are so pleased to call themselves) would consult this comedy as a model, they would be ashamed of dragging so many heterogeneous characters together, so irrelevant to the general business of the scene. and which give the stage more the appearance of a caricature-shop, than a faithful representation of life and

manners."

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SCENE.-Sir Pertinax Macsycophant's House, ten miles from London.

ACT I

SCENE I-A Library.

Enter BETTY and FooтMAN.

Bet. The postman is at the gate, Sam; pray step and take in the letters.

Sam. John the gardener is gone for them, Mrs. Betty.

Bet Bid John bring them to me, Sam; tell him, I'm here in the library.

Sam. I will send him to your ladyship in a track, Madam. [Exit SAM.

Enter NANNY.

Bet. How is she now, Nanny? Any better? Nan. Something-but very low spirited still. I verily believe it is as you say.

be deceived in that point, Nanny. Ay, she is Bet. Nay, I would take my oath of it; I cannot certainly breeding, depend upon it.

Nan. Why, so the housekeeper thinks too.

loaves; nay, I know the father, the man that Bet. Oh, if she is not, there is no bread in nine

ruined her.

Nan. The deuce you do!

Bet. As sure as you are alive, Nanny, or I am greatly deceived-and yet I can't be deceived Nan. Miss Constantia desires to speak to you, neither.--Was not that the cook that came gallop

Mistress Betty.

VOL. I.... G

5

ing so hard over the common just now?

Nan. The same: how very hard he galloped: he has been but three quarters of an hour, he says, coming from Hyde-park-corner!

Bet. And what time will the family be down? Nan. He has orders to have dinner ready by five. There are to be lawyers, and a great deal of company here-He fancies there is to be a private wedding to-night between our young master Charles, and lord Lumbercourt's daughter, the Scotch lady; who, he says, is just come from Bath, on purpose to be married to him.

Bet. Ay, Lady Rodolpha! nay, like enough, for I know it has been talked of a good while Well, go tell Miss Constantia that I will be with her immediately.

Nan. I shall, Mrs. Betty.

[Erit. Bet. So! I find they all begin to suspect her condition; that's pure: it will soon reach my lady's ears, I warrant.

Enter JOHN, with Letters. Well, John, ever a letter for me?

John. No, Mrs. Betty; but here's one for Miss Constantia.

Bet. Give it me-hum-My lady's hand. John. And here is one, which the postman says is for my young master-But it is a strange direction. [Reads] To Charles Egerton, Esq.

Bet. Oh, yes, yes! that is for Master Charles, John; for he has dropped his father's name of Macsycophant, and has taken up that of Egerton. The parliament has ordered it.

John. The parliament! Pr'ythee, why so, Mrs. Betty?

|der what the deuce the men see in her--A creature that was taken in for charity! I am sure she is not so handsome. I wish she was out of the family once; if she was, I might then stand a chance of being my lady's favourite myself. Ay, and perhaps of getting one of my young masters for a sweetheart, or at least the chaplain--but as to him, there would be no such great catch, if I should get him. I will try for him, however: and my first step shall be to let the doctor know all I have discovered about Constantia's intrigues with her spark at Hadley-Yes, that will do; for the doctor loves to talk with me, and always smiles and jokes with me, and he loves to hear me talkAnd I verily believe, he! he he! that he has a sneaking kindness for me, and this story I know will make him have a good opinion of my honesty-And that, I am sure, will be one step towards-Oh! bless me, here he comes, and my young master with him. I'll watch an opportunity to speak with him, as soon as he is alone; for I will blow her up, I am resolved, as great a favourite, and as cunning as she is. [Exit.

Enter EGERTON and SIDNEY. Eger. I have done, Sir. You have refused. I have nothing more to say upon the subject-I am satisfied.

Sid. Come, come, correct this warmth, it is the only weak ingredient in your nature, and you ought to watch it carefully. From your earliest youth, your father has honoured me with the care of your education, and the general conduct of your mind; and however singular and morose his behaviour may be towards others, to me he has

his roof too; and because I will not abet an unwarrantable passion, in direct opposition to your father's hopes and happiness, you blame-you angrily break from me, and call me unkind.

Bet. Why, you must know, John, that my lady, his mother, was an Egerton by her father; she stole a match with our old master. Sir Stan-ever been respectful and liberal. I am now under ley Egerton, that you just mentioned, dying an old bachelor, and mortally hating our old master, and the whole gang of the Macsycophants--he left his whole estate to master Charles, who was his godson; but on condition though, that he should drop his father's name of Macsycophant, and take up that of Egerton; and that is the reason, John, why the parliament has made him change his name.

John. I am glad that master Charles has got the estate, however; for he is a sweet tempered gentleman.

Bet. As ever lived-But come, John, as I know you love Miss Constantia, and are fond of being where she is, I will make you happy. You shall carry her letters to her.

John. Shall I, Mrs. Betty? I am very much obliged to you. Where is she?

Bet. In the housekeeper's room, settling the dessert.--Give me Mr. Egerton's letter, and I will leave it on the table in his dressing-room.-I see it is from his brother Sandy. So, now go and deliver your letter to your sweetheart, John.

Eger. Dear Sidney, for my warmth I stand condemned, but for my marriage with Constantia, I think I can justify it upon every principle of filial duty, honour, and worldly prudence.

Sid. Only make that appear, Charles, and you know you may command me.

Eger. I am sensible how unseemly it appears in a son, to descant on the unamiable passions of a parent; but as we are alone, and friends, I cannot help observing in my own defence, that when a father will not allow the use of reason to any of his family-when his pursuit of greatness makes him a slave abroad only to be a tyrant at home-and when, merely to gratify his own ambition, he would marry his son into a family he detests-sure, Sidney, a son thus circumstanced (from the dignity of human nature, and the feelings of a loving heart) has a right not only to protest against the blindness of the parent, but to pursue those measures that virtue and happiness point out.

Sid. The violent temper of Sir Pertinax, I own, cannot on many occasions be defended; but still your intended alliance with lord Lumbercourt

John. That I will; and I am much beholden to you for the favour of letting me carry it to her for though she would never have me, yet I shall always love her, and wish to be near her, she is so sweet a creature-Your servant, Mrs. Betty. [Exit. Eger. Oh! contemptible! a trifling, quaint, Bet. Your servant, John; ha! ha! ha! poor debauched, voluptuous, servile fool; the mere fellow, he perfectly doats on her; and daily follows lackey of party and corruption; who, for a mean, her about with nosegays and fruit-and the first slavish, factious prostitution of near thirty years, of every thing in the season-Ay, and my young and the ruin of a noble fortune, has had the desmaster, Charles, too, is in as bad a way as the picable satisfaction, and the infamous honour, of gardener--in short, every body loves her, and that being kicked up and kicked down-kicked in and is one reason why I hate her-for my part, I won-out-just as the insolence, compassion, or the

conveniency of leaders, predominated; and now- | being forsaken by all parties,-his whole political consequence amounts to the power of franking a letter, and the right honourable privilege of not paying a tradesman's bill.

Sid. Well, but dear Charles, you are not to wed my lord, but his daughter.

Eger. Who is as disagreeable for a companion, as her father is for a friend or an ally.

Sid. [Laughing.] What, her Scotch accent, I suppose, offends you?

Eger. No:-upon my honour-not in the least. I think it entertaining in her-but were it otherwise-in decency--and indeed in_national affection (being a Scotsman myself) I can have no objection to her on that account-besides, she is my near relation.

Sid. So I understand. But, pray, Charles, how came Lady Rodolpha, who I find was born in England, to be bred in Scotland?

Eger. From the dotage of an old, formal, obstinate, stiff, rich, Scotch grandmother; who upon promise of leaving this grandchild all her fortune, would have the girl sent to her to Scotland, when she was but a year old; and there has she been bred up ever since, with this old lady, in all the vanity, splendour, and unlimited indulgence, that fondness and admiration could bestow on a spoiled child, a fancied beauty, and a pretended wit. And is this a woman fit to make my happiness? this, the partner Sidney would recommend me for life? to you, who best know me, I appeal.

Sid. Why, Charles, it is a delicate point, unfit for me to determine-besides, your father has set his heart upon the match

Eger. All that I know-But still I ask and insist upon your candid judgment—Is she the kind of woman that you think could possibly contribute to my happiness? I beg you will give me an explicit answer.

Sid. The subject is disagreeable--but since I must speak, I do not think she is.

Eger. I know you do not; and I am sure you never will advise the match.

Sid. I never did-I never will. Eger. You make me happy-which I assure you I never could be, with your judgment against me in this point.

Sid. But pray, Charles, suppose I had been so indiscreet as to have agreed to marry you to Constantia, would she have consented, think you? Eger. That I cannot say positively; but I

suppose so.

Sid. Did you never speak to her then upon that subject?

intrusion; I hope I do not disturb your reverence.

Sid. Not in the least, Mrs. Betty

Bet. 1 humbly beg pardon, Sir;—but I—I— I wanted to break my mind to your honour about a-a-a scruple-that-that lies upon my conscience and indeed I should not have presumed to trouble you-but that I know you are my young master's friend, and my old master's friend, and my lady's friend, and indeed a friend to the whole family-for to give you your due, Sir, you are as good a preacher as ever went into a pulpit. Sid. Ha! ha! ha! do you think so, Mrs.

Betty?

Bet. Ay, in troth do I-and as good a gentleman too as ever came into a family, and one that never gives a servant a hard word; nor that does any one an ill turn-neither behind one's back, nor before one's face.

Sid. Ha! ha ha! Why you are a mighty well-spoken woman, Mrs. Betty; and I am mightily beholden to you for your good character of me.

Bet. Indeed, Sir, it is no more than you deserve, and what all the servants say of you. Sid. I am much obliged to them, Mrs. Betty. But pray what are your commands with me?

Bet. Why, I will tell your reverence-to be sure I am but a servant, as a body may say; and every tub should stand upon its own bottombut

[She takes hold of him familiarly, looking first about very cautiously, and speaks in a low familiar tone of great secrecy} My young master is now in the china-room;-in close conference with Miss Constantia. I know what they are about-but that is no business of mine-and therefore I made bold to listen a little, because you know, Sir, one would be sure-before one took away any body's reputation.

Sid. Very true, Mrs. Betty-very true, indeed. Bet. Oh! heavens forbid that I should take away any young woman's good name, unless I had a reason for it-but, Sir-if I am in this place alive as I listened with my ear close to the door, I heard my young master ask Miss Constantia the plain marriage question-Upon which I started-I trembled-nay, my very conscience stirred within me so that I could not help peeping through the keyhole.

Sid. Ha! ha! ha! and so your conscience made you peep through the keyhole, Mrs. Betty!

Bet. It did indeed, your reverence. And there I saw my young master upon his knees-Lord bless us! kissing her hand, as if he would eat it! and protesting and assuring her he knew that your worship would consent to the match. And then the tears ran down her cheeks as fastSid. Ay!

Bet. They did indeed, Sir;-I would not tell your reverence a lie for the world.

Sid. I believe it, Mrs. Betty. And what did Constantia say to all this?

Eger. In general terms only: never directly requested her consent in form. But I will this very moment-for I have no asylum from my father's arbitrary design, but by Constantia's arms. Pray do not stir from hence. I will return instantly. I know she will submit to your advice, and I am sure you will persuade her to my wish; as my life, my peace, my earthly happiness, depend on my Constantia. [Exit. Bet. Oh! oh! she is sly enough-She looks as Sid. Poor Charles! he little dreams that I love if butter would not melt in her mouth-but all is Constantia too; but to what degree I knew not not gold that glitters-smooth water, you know, myself, till he importuned me to join their hands-runs deepest. I am sorry, very sorry indeedYes, I love, but must not be a rival; for he is as dear to me as fraternal fondness-My benefactor, my friend!

my young master makes himself such a fool— but-um- -ha!-take my word for it, he is not the man-for though she looks as modest as a maid at a christening-yet-a-when sweetBet. I beg your worship's pardon for my hearts meet-in the dusk of the evening-and stay

Enter BETTY, running up to him.

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Cor. His prudence, you see, Sir, has made him retire; therefore we had better defer the subject till he is present-In the meantime, Sir, I hope you will permit me to mention an affair that has greatly alarmed and perplexed me. I suppose you guess what it is?

Eger. I do not, upon my word! Con. That's a little strange-You know, Sir, you and Mr. Sidney did me the honour of breakfasting with me this morning in my little study.

Eger. We had that happiness, Madam.

Bet. Oh! heavens! I beg your worship will not misapprehend me! for I assure you, I do not believe they did any harm-that is, not in the grove-that at least, not when I was there-and she may be honestly married, for aught I know-She may be very honest, for aught I know-heaven forbid I should say any harm of her-I only say-that they did meet in the dark walk-and perhaps nine months hence-ay, remember, Sir-I said that-a-certain person in this family-nine months hence may ask me to stand godmotheronly remember-for I think I know what's whatwhen I see it, as well as another.

Sid. No doubt you do, Mrs. Betty.

Bet. I do indeed, Sir; and so your servant, Sir; [Going, returns.] but I hope your worship will not mention my name in this business;-or that you had any item from me about it.

Sid. I shall not, Mrs. Betty.

Bet. For indeed, Sir, I am no busy body, nor do I love fending or proving-and I assure you, Sir, I hate all tittling and tattling-and gossiping, and backbiting and taking away a person's cha

racter.

Sid. I observe you do, Mrs. Betty.

Bet. I do, indeed, Sir;-I am the furthest from

it of any person in the world

Sid. I dare say you are.

Con. Just after you left me, upon my opening my book of accounts, which lay in the drawer of the reading desk, to my great surprise-I there found this case of jewels, containing a most elegant pair of ear-rings, a necklace of great value, and two bank-bills, in this pocket-book; the mys tery of which, Sir, I presume you can explain. Eger. I can.

Con. They were of your conveying, then?
Eger. They were, Madam.

Con. I assure you, they startled and alarmed me. Eger. I hope it was a kind alarm, such as blushing virtue feels, when with her hand she gives her heart-and last consent.

Con. It was not, indeed, Sir.

Eger. Do not say so, Constantia-come, be kir.d at once; my peace and worldly bliss depend upon this moment.

Con. What would you have me do?
Eger. What love and virtue dictate.
Con. Oh! Sir-experience but too severely
proves that such unequal matches as ours never

Bet. I am, indeed, Sir; and so, Sir, your hum-produced aught but contempt and anger in parents,

ble servant.

censure from the world-and-a long train of sorrow and repentance in the wretched parties, which is but too often entailed upon their hapless issue.

Eger. But that, Constantia, cannot be our confor my fortune is independent and ample, equal to luxury and splendid folly; I have the right to choose the partner of my heart.

Sid. Your servant, Mrs. Betty. Bet. So! I see he believes every word I say; that's charming-I will do her business for her, I am resolved. [Aside: exit. Sid. What can this ridiculous creature mean-dition; by her dark walk?-I see envy is as malignant in a paltry waiting wench, as in the vainest, or the most ambitious lady of the court. It is always an infallible mark of the basest nature; and merit, in the lowest as in the highest station, must feel the shafts of envy's constant agents--falsehood and slander.

Enter SAM.

Sam. Sir, Mr. Egerton and Miss Constantia desire to speak with you in the china-room.

Sid. Very well, Sam. [Exit SAM.] I will not see them-what's to be done?-inform his father of his intended marriage!-no;-that must not be-for the overbearing temper and ambitious policy of Sir Pertinax would exceed all bounds of moderation. But this young man must not marry Constantia-I know it will offend him-no matter. It is our duty to offend, when the offence saves the man we love from a precipitate action.Yes, I must discharge the duty of my function and a friend, though I am sure to lose the man whom I intend to serve.

ACT II.

SCENE I-A Library.

Enter EGERTON and CONSTANTIA.

Con Mr. Sidney is not here, Sir.

[Exit.

|

Con. But I have not, Sir-I am a dependent on my lady-a poor, forsaken, helpless orphan. Your benevolent mother found me, took me to her bosom, and there supplied my parental loss with every tender care, indulgent dalliance, and with all the sweet persuasion that maternal fondness, religious precept, polished manners, and hourly example, could administer. She fostered me; [Weeps;] and shall I now turn viper, and with black ingratitude sting the tender heart that thus has cherished me? Shall I seduce her house's heir, and kill her peace? No-though I loved to the mad extreme of female fondness; though every worldly bliss that woman's vanity or man's ambition could desire, followed the indulgence of my love, and all the contempt and misery of this life the denial of that indulgence, I would discharge my duty to my benefactress, my earthly guardian, my more than parent.

Eger. My dear Constantia ! Your prudence, your gratitude, and the cruel virtue of your selfdenial, do but increase my love, my admiration, and my misery.

Con. Sir, I must beg you will give me leave to return these bills and jewels.

Eger. Pray do not mention them; sure my kindness and esteem may be indulged so far, with

Eger. I assure you I left him here, and I beg-out suspicion and reproach-1 beg you will accept

ged that he would stay till I returned.

of them; nay, I insist

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