He dearly lov'd him once--but that is over. [She faints, they run to her, DOUGLAS takes Edr. Hold thy rash hand! Dou. It is too late. No remedy but this Could medicine a disease so desperate. Raby. Ah, she revives! But something tells me-O those painful struggles! What sight is that? [She sees the body of DOUGLAS. [der'd A sword, and bloody? Ah! and Douglas murEdr. Convinc'd too late of your unequall'd virtues, [wrongs, And wrung with deep compunction for your By his own hand the wretched Douglas fell." Elw. This adds another, sharper pang to death. O thou Eternal! take him to thy mercy, Nor let this sin be on his head, or mine! Raby. I have undone you all-the crime is mine! Dou. [Raising himself.] She lives! bear, bear O thou poor injur'd saint, forgive thy father, me to her! We shall be happy yet. He kneels to his wrong'd child. Elw. Now you are cruel, [He struggles to get to her, but sinks down. Come near, my father, nearer-I would see you, It will not be O for a last embrace-Alas! I faint- Raby. Look up, my child! O do not leave me Elu. No-you are my father; O you are kindly come to close my eyes, El. We soon shall meet in peace. But mists and darkness cloud my failing sight. O death! suspend thy rights for one short moment, A father's blessing-Once-and now 'tis over. [She dies. Raby. She's gone! for ever gone! cold, dead Am I a father? Fathers love their children- [Exeunt THE BELLE'S STRATAGE M: A COMEDY, IN FIVE ACTS. BY MRS. CROWLEY. REMARKS. Tuis successful play first appeared at Covent Garden in 1780, and was particularly patronised by the royal family, who frequently commanded its representation. The Biographia Dramatica says: "To speak of it as a first-rate performance would be doing injustice to the piece, as it possesses little originality either in plot, character, or situation; it however always gives pleasure in the exhibition." A late editor has observed, that the mind must have been gifted with various powers that could produce such a comedy as this, and such a poem as the Siege of Acre." ACT I. Mr. Aickin. Mr. Thompson. ... Mr. Booth. Mrs. Morton.. Miss Stewart... Masqueraders, Traders, Servants, &c SCENE I-Lincoln's-inn. Enter SAVILLE, followed by a SERVANT, at the top of the Stage, looking round as if at a loss. Sav. Lincoln's inn!-Well, but where to find him, now I am in Lincoln's-inn? Where did he say his master was? Serv. He only said in Lincoln's-inn, Sir. Sav. That's pretty ?-And your wisdom never inquired at whose chambers? Serv. Sir, you spoke to the servant yourself. Sav. If I was too impatient to ask questions, you ought to have taken directions, blockhead! Mr. J. Wallack Mr. Miller. .Mr. Wallack. ... Mr. Ebsworth. Miss Walstein. Mrs. Harlowe. Mrs. Orger. Miss Boyce. Mrs. Scott. Enter COURTALL, singing. Ha, Courtall!-Bid him keep the horses in mo tion, and then inquire at all the chambers round. [Exit SERVANT.] What the devil brings you to this part of the town? Have any of the long robes handsome wives, sisters, or chambermaids? Court. Perhaps they have; but I came on a different errand: and had thy good fortune brought thee here half an hour sooner, I'd have given thee such a treat! ha, ha, ha! Sav. I'm sorry I miss'd it. What was it? Court. I was informed, a few days since, that my cousins Fallow were come to town, and desired earnestly to see me at their lodgings, in Warwick-court, Holborn. Away drove I, paint- Court. After waiting thirty minutes, during which there was a violent bustle, in bounced five sallow damsels, four of them maypoles; the fifth, nature, by way of variety, had bent in the Esop style. But they all opened at once, like hounds, on a fresh scent,-Oh, cousin Courtall!-How do you do, cousin Courtall?-Lord, cousin, I am glad you are come! We want you to go with us to the Park, and the plays, and the opera, and Almack's, and all the fine places!- The devil, thought I, my dears, may attend you, for I'm sure I wont. -However, I heroically staid an hour with them, and discovered the virgins were all come to town with the hopes of leaving it wives— their heads full of knight-baronights, fops, and ad ventures. Sav. Well, how did you get off? Court. Oh, pleaded a million engagements.However, conscience twitched me, so I breakfasted with them this morning, and afterwards squired them to the gardens here, as the most private place in town; and then took a sorrowful leave, complaining of my hard fortune, that obliged me to set off immediately for Dorsetshire.ha, ha! -Ha, Sav. I congratulate your escape.-Courtall at Almack's, with five awkward, country cousins!— Ha, ha, ha!—Why, your existence, as a man of gallantry, could never have survived it. Court. Death and fire! had they come to town, like the rustics of the last age, to see Paul's, the lions, and the waxwork-at their service; but the cousins of our days come up ladies-and, with the knowledge they glean from magazines and pocketbooks, fine ladies-laugh at the bashfulness of their grandmothers, and boldly demand their entrees into the first circles. Sar. Come, give me some news. Court. Oh, enough for three gazettes!-The ladies are going to petition for a bill, that, during the war, every man may be allowed two wives. Sav. 'Tis impossible they should succeed; for the majority of both houses know what it is to have one. Court. But pr'ythee, Saville, how came you to town? Sav. I came to meet my friend Doricourt, who, you know, is lately arrived from Rome. Sav. I never saw her; but 'tis Miss Hardy, the rich heiress.-The match was made by the parents, and the courtship began on their nurses' knees; master used to crow at miss, and miss used to chuckle at master. Court. Oh, then by this time they care no more for each other, than I do for my country cousins. Sav. I don't know that; they have never met since thus high; and so probably have some regard for each other. -Odd! Court. Never met! Sav. A whim of Mr. Hardy's; he thought his daughter's charms would make a more forcible impression, if her lover remained in ignorance of them till his return from the continent. Enter SAVILLE'S SERVANT. Ser. Mr. Doricourt, Sir, has been at Counsellor Pleadwell's, and gone about five minutes. [Exit. Sav. Five minutes.-Zounds! I have been five -Good morminutes too late all my lifetime!row, Courtall.I must pursue him. [Going. Court. Promise to dine with me to-day; I have some honest fellows. [Going off on the opposite side. Sav. Can't promise-perhaps I may. -See there, there's a bevy of female Patagonians, coming down upon us. Court. By the Lord, then, it must be my strapping cousins.-I dare not look behind me.-Run, [Exeunt both on one side. man, run! SCENE II-An Apartment in DORICOURT's House. Enter DORIcourt. Dor. [To a servant behind.] I shall be too late for St. James'; bid him come immediately. Enter FRENCHMAN and SAVILLE. [Exit French. Monsieur Saville. Dor. Most fortunate!My dear Saville, let the warmth of this embrace speak the pleasure of my heart. Sav. Well, this is some comfort, after the scurvy reception I met with in your hall.-I prepared my mind, as I came up stairs, for a bon jour, a grimace, and an adieu. Dor. Why so? Sav. Judging of the master from the rest of the family.-What the devil is the meaning of that flock of foreigners below, with their parchment faces, and snuffy whiskers?-What! can't an Englishman stand behind your carriage, buckle your shoe, or brush your coat? Court. Arrived! yes, faith, and has cut us all Dor. Stale, my dear Saville, stale-Englishout!-His carriage, his liveries, his dress, himself, are the rage of the day!-His first appearance set men make the best soldiers, citizens, artizans, and the whole town in a ferment, and his valet is be-philosophers, in the world, but the very worst sieged by levees of tailors, habit-makers, and other ministers of fashion, to gratify the impatience of their customers for becoming a la mode de Doricourt.-Nay, the beautiful lady Frolic, t'other night, with two sister countesses, insisted upon his waistcoat for muffs; and their snowy arms now bear it in triumph about town, to the heartrending affliction of all our beau garcons. Say Indeed! Well, those little gallantries will soon be over-he's on the point of marriage. Court. Marriage! Doricourt on the point of marriage! 'tis the happiest tidings you could have given, next to his being hanged.-Who is the bride elect? footmen. I keep French fellows and Germans, as the Romans kept slaves; because their own countrymen had minds too enlarged and haughty to descend with a grace to the duties of such a station. Sav. A good excuse for a bad practice. Dor. On my honour, experience will convince you of its truth. A Frenchman neither hears, sees, nor breathes, but as his master directs; and his whole system of conduct is comprised in one short word-obedience! An Englishman reasons, forms opinions, cogitates, and disputes; he is the mere creature of your will: the other, a being conscious of equal importance in the universal scale with yourself, and is therefore your judge, whilst he wears your livery, and decides on your actions with the freedom of a censor. desty, and merit, is doomed to the arms of a hus- Sav. And this is in defence of a custom I have heard you execrate, together with all the adventi-secures her felicity. tious manners imported by our travelled gentry. Sav. Come, come, Doricourt, you know very well, that when the honour of a husband is locumtenens for his heart, his wife must be as indifferent as himself, if she is not unhappy. Dor. Pho! never moralize without spectacles But, as we are upon the tender subject, how did you bear Touchwood's carrying lady Frances? Sav. You know I never looked up to her with hope; and Sir George is in every way worthy of her. Dor. A la mode Angloise, a philosopher, even in love. Dor. Ay, but that was at eighteen; we are always very wise at eighteen. But consider this point: we go into Italy, where the sole business of the people is to study and improve the powers of music: we yield to the fascination, and grow enthusiasts in the charming science: we travel over France, and see the whole kingdom composing ornaments, and inventing fashions: we condescend to avail ourselves of their industry, and adopt their modes: we return to England, and find the nation intent on the most important objects: polity, commerce, war, with all the liberal arts, employ her sons; the latent sparks glow afresh within our bosoms; the sweet follies of the continent imperceptibly slide away, whilst sena-accompany them to the masquerade in the eventors, statesmen, patriots, and heroes, emerge from the virtû of Italy, and the frippery of France. Sav. I may as well give it up-You had always the art of placing your faults in the best light; and I can't help loving you, faults and all: so to start a subject which must please you-When do you expect Miss Hardy? Dor. Oh, the hour of expectation is past-She is arrived, and I this morning had the honour of an interview at Pleadwell's. The writings were ready: and, in obedience to the will of Mr. Hardy, we met to sign and seal. Sat. Has the event answered? Did your heart leap or sink, when you beheld your mistress? Dor. 'Faith, neither one nor t'other:-she's a fine girl, as far as mere flesh and blood goes.But Sav. But what? Dor. Why, she's only a fine girl; complexion, shape, and features-nothing more. Sav. Is not that enough? Dor. No-she should have spirit; fire! L'air enjoue! that something, that nothing, which every body feels, and which nobody can describe, in the resistless charmers of Italy and France. Sav. Come, I detain you. You seem dressed at all points, and of course have an engagement. Dor. To St. James'. I dine at Hardy's, and ing-but breakfast with me to-morrow, and we'll talk of our old companions; for I swear to you, Saville, the air of the continent has not effaced one youthful prejudice or attachment. Sav. With an exception to the case of ladies and servants. Dor. True; there I plead guilty: but I have never yet found any man, whom I could cordially take to my heart and call friend, who was not born beneath a British sky, and whose heart and manners were not truly English. [Exeunt DOR. and Sav. SCENE III—An Apartment in MR. HARDY'S House. VILLERS seated on a Sofa, reading. Flut. Ha, Villers, have you seen Mrs. Rackett ?Miss Hardy, I find, is out. Vil. I have not seen her yet. I have made a voyage to Lapland since I came. [Flinging away the book.] A lady at her toilet is as difficult to be moved as a quaker. [Yawning] What events have happened in the world since yesterday? have you heard? Sav. Thanks to the parsimony of my father, that kept me from travel! I would not have lost my relish for true unaffected English beauty, to have been quarrelled for by all the belles of Ver-I sailles and Florence. Dor. Pho! thou hast no taste!-English beauty! 'tis insipidity: it wants the zest, it wants poignaney, Frank! Why, I have known a Frenchwoman, indebted to nature for no one thing but a pair of decent eyes, reckon in her suit as many counts, marquisses, and petits maitres, as would satisfy three dozen of our first rate toasts. I have known an Italian marquiz ina make ten conquests in stepping from her carriage, and carry her slaves from one city to another, whose real intrinsic beauty would have yielded to half the little grisettes that pace your Mall on a Sunday. Sav. And has Miss Hardy nothing of this? Dor. If she has, she was pleased to keep it to herself. I was in the room half an hour before I could catch the colour of her eyes; and every attempt to draw her into conversation occasioned so cruel an embarrassment, that I was reduced to the necessity of news, French fleets, and Spanish captures, with her father. Sav. So, Miss Hardy, with only beauty, mo Flut. Oh, yes; I stopped at Tattersall's, as I came by, and there I found Lord James Jessamy, Sir William Wilding, and Mr. But now think on't, you sha'n't know a syllable of the lieve above one half of what I say. matter; for I have been informed you never be Vil. My dear fellow, somebody has imposed upon you most egregiously! Half! Why, I never believe one tenth part of what you say: that is, according to the plain and literal expression; but, as I understand you, your intelligence amusing. Flut. That's very hard now, very hard. I never related a falsity in my life, unless I stum bled at it by mistake; and if it were otherwise, your dull matter-of-fact people are infinitely obliged to those warm imaginations which soar into fiction to amuse you; for, positively, the com mon events of this little, dirty world, are not worth talking about, unless you embellish them! -Ha! here comes Mrs. Rackett: adieu to weeds, I see! All life! Enter MRS. RACKETT. Enter, Madam, in all your charms! Villers has been abusing your toilet, for keeping you so long; but I think we are much obliged to it, and so are you. Mrs. R. How so, pray? Good morning t'ye both. Here, here's a hand a-piece for you. [Kiss her hands. Flut. How so! Because it hath given you so many beauties. Mrs. R. Delightful compliment! What do you think of that, Villers? Vil. That he and his compliments are alike howy, but wont bear examining -So you brought Miss Hardy to town last night? Mrs. R. Yes, I should have brought her before, but I had a fall from my horse, that confined me week-I suppose in her heart she wished me anged a dozen times an hour. Flut. Why? Mrs. R. Had she not an expecting lover in own all the time? She meets him this morning at the lawyer's. I hope she'll charm him; she's the sweetest girl in the world. Vil. Vanity, like murder, will out-You have convinced me you think yourself more charming. Mrs. R. How can that be? Vil. No woman ever praises another, unless she thinks herself superior in the very perfections she allows. Flut. Nor no man ever rails at the sex, unless he is conscious he deserves their hatred. Mrs. R. Thank ye, Flutter-I'll owe ye a bouquet for that. I am going to visit the new married Lady Frances Touchwood-Who knows her husband? Flut. Every body. Mrs. R. Is there not something odd in his character? Vil. Nothing, but that he is passionately fond of his wife;-and so petulant is his love, that he opened the cage of a favourite bullfinch, and sent it to catch butterflies, because she rewarded its song with her kisses. Mrs. R. Intolerable monster! Such a brute deserves Vil. There again! You forget this story is told by Flutter, who always remembers every thing but the circumstances and the person he talks about;—'twas Ingot who offered a rouleau for the bargain, and Sir Jeremy Jingle who made the reply. Flut. 'Egad, I believe you are right—Well, the story is as good one way as t'other, you know. Good morning. I am going to Mrs. Crotchet's concert, and in my way back shall make my bow at Sir George's. [Going. Vil. I'll venture every figure in your tailor's bill, you make some blunder there. Flut. [Turning back.] Done! my tailor's bill has not been paid these two years; and I'll open my mouth with as much care as Mrs. Bridget Button, who wears cork plumpers in each cheek, and never hazards more than six words, for fear of showing them. [Exit. Mrs. R. 'Tis a good-natured, insignificant creature! let in every where, and cared for no where. -There's Miss Hardy returned from Lincoln'sinn: she seems rather chagrined. Vil. Then I leave you to your communications. Enter LETITIA, followed by her Maid, Adieu! I am rejoiced to see you so well, Madam! but I must tear myself away. Let. Don't vanish in a moment. Vil. Oh, inhuman! you are two of the most dangerous women in town-Staying here to be cannonaded by four such eyes, is equal to a rencontre with Paul Jones, or a midnight march to Omoa!--They'll swallow the nonsense for the sake of the compliment. [Aside; erit. Vil. Nay, nay, nay, nay, this is your sex now. Let. [Gives her cloak to her Maid.] Order Du Give a woman but one stroke of character, Quesne never more to come again; he shall posioff she goes, like a ball from a racket; sees the tively dress my hair no more. [Exit Maid.] whole man, marks him down for angel or a devil, And this odious silk, how unbecoming it is!-I and so exhibits him to her acquaintance. This was bewitched to choose it. [Throwing herself monster! this brute! is one of the worthiest fel-on a chair, and looking in a pocket glass; MRS. lows upon earth; sound sense, and a liberal mind; RACKETT staring at her.] Did you ever see such but dotes on his wife to such excess, that he quar- a fright as I am to-day? rels with every thing she admires, and is jealous of her tippet and nosegay. Mrs. R. Oh, less love for me, kind Cupid! I can see no difference between the torment of such an affection, and hatred. Mrs. R. Yes, I have seen you look much worse. Let. How can you be so provoking? If I do not look this morning worse than ever I looked in my life, I am naturally a fright.-You shall have it which way you will. Mrs. R. Just as you please; but pray what is the meaning of all this? Flut. Oh, pardon me, inconceivable difference, inconceivable; I see it as clearly as your bracelet. In the one case the husband would say, as Mr. Let. [Rising] Men are all dissemblers, flatSnapper said t'other day, Zounds! Madam, do terers, deceivers! Have I not heard a thousand you suppose that my table, and my house, and times of my air, my eyes, my shape-all made for my pictures!-Apropos, des Bottes-there was victory! and to-day, when I bent my whole heart the divinest Plague of Athens sold yesterday at on one poor conquest, I have proved that all those Langford's the dead figures so natural; you imputed charms amount to nothing; for Doricourt would have sworn they had been alive. Lord saw them unmoved.--A husband of fifteen Primrose bid five hundred-Six, said Lady Car-months could not have examined me with more mine-A thousand, said Ingot the nabob.--Down cutting indifference. went the hammer.-A rouleau for your bargain, said Sir Jeremy Jingle. And what answer do you think Ingot made him? Mrs. R. Why, took the offer. Mrs. R. Then do vou retain it like a wife of fifteen months, and be as indifferent as he. Let. Ay, there's the sting! The blooming boy, who left his image in my young heart, is at Flut. Sir, I would oblige you, but I buy this four and twenty improved in every grace that |