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day has since taught me, that it is possible to pos- | disclaim his friendship who ceases to be a friend to sess sense without pride, and beauty without affec- himself.

[Erit. tation.

Honeywood. How is this ! she has confessed she Miss Richland. This, sir, is a style very unusual loved him, and yet she seemed to part in displeawith Mr. Honeywood; and I should be glad to sure. Can I have done any thing to reproach myknow why he thus attempts to increase that vanity, self with? No; I believe not : yet after all, these which his own lessons have taught me to despise. things should not be done by a third person : I

Honeywood. I ask pardon, madam. Yet, from should have spared her confusion. My friendship our long friendship, I presumed I might have some carried me a little too far. right to offer, without offence, what you may refuse, without oflending.

Enter CROAKER, with the letter in his hand, and MRS.

CROAKER. Miss Richland. Sir! I beg you'd reflect: though, I fear, I shall scarce have any power to refuse a Mrs. Croaker. Ha! ha! ha! And so, my dear, request of yours, yet you may be precipitate : con- it's your supreme wish that I should be quite sider, sir.

wretched upon this occasion ? ha! ha! Honeyrood. I own my rashness; but as I plead Croaker (Mimicking). Ha! ha! ha! And so, the cause of friendship, of one who loves-Don't my dear, it's your supreme pleasure to give me no be alarmed, madam—who loves you with the most better consolation? ardent passion, whose whole happiness is placed in Mrs. Croaker. Positively, my dear ; what is this you

incendiary stuff and trumpery to me? our house Miss Richland. I fear, sir, I shall never find may travel through the air like the house of Loretwhom you mean, hy this description of him. to, for aught I care, if I am to be miserable in it.

Honeywood. Ah, madam, it but too plainly Croaker. Would to Heaven it were converted points him out; though he should be too humble into a house of correction for your benefit. Have himself to urge his pretensions, or you too modest we not every thing to alarm us? Perhaps this very to understand them.

moment the tragedy is beginning. Miss Richland. Well; it would be affectation Mrs. Croaker. Then let us reserve our distress any longer to pretend ignorance; and I will own, till the rising of the curtain, or give them the mosir, I have long been prejudiced in his favour. It ney they want, and have done with them. was but natural to wish to make his heart mine, as Croaker. Give them my money!-And pray, he seemed himself ignorant of its value. what right have they to my money?

Honeywood. I see she always loved him. [Aside.) Mrs. Croaker. And pray, what right then have I find, madam, you're already sensible of his worth, you to my good-humour? his passion. How happy is my friend, to be the Croaker. And so your good-humour advises me favourite of one with such sense to distinguish to part with my money? Why then, to tell your merit, and such beauty to reward it.

good-humour a piece of my mind, I'd sooner part Miss Richland. Your friend, sir! What friend? with my wife. Here's Mr. Honeywood, see what Honeywood. My best friend my friend Mr. he'll say to it. My dear Honeywood, look at this Lofty, madam.

incendiary letter dropped at my door. It will freeze Miss Richland. He, sir !

you with terror; and yet lovey here can read it, Honeywood. Yes, he, madam. He is, indeed, can read it, and laugh. what your warmest wishes might have formed him; Mrs. Croaker. Yes, and so will Mr. Honeyand to his other qualities he adds that of the most wood. passionate regard for you.

Croaker. If he does, I'll suffer to be hanged the Miss Richland. Amazement!-No more of this, next minute in the rogue's place, that's all. I beg you, sir.

Mrs. Croaker. Speak, Mr. Honeywood; is there Honeywood. I see your confusion, madam, and any thing more foolish than my husband's fright know how to interpret it. And, since I so plainly upon this occasion ? read the language of your heart, shall I make my Honeywood. It would not become me to decide, friend happy, by communicating your sentiments? madam; but doubtless, the greatness of his terrors Miss Richland. By no means.

now will but invite them to renew their villany Honeyuood. Excuse me, I must; I know you another time. desire it.

Mrs. Croaker. I told you, he'd be of my opinion. Miss Richland. Mr. Honeywood, let me tell Croaker. How, sir! do you maintain that I you, that you wrong my sentiments and yourself. should lie down under such an injury, and show, When I first applied to your friendship, I expected neither by my tears nor complaints, that I have advice and assistance; but now, sir, I see that it is something of the spirit of a man in me? in vain to expect happiness from him who has been Honeywood. Pardon me, sir. You ought to so beel an economist of his own; and that I must make the loudest complaints, if you desire redress.

The surest way to have redress, is to be earnest in! Honeywood. Ay, but not punish him too rigidly. the pursuit of it.

Croaker. Well, well, leave that to my own beCroaker. Ay, whose opinion is he of now? nevolence.

Mrs. Croaker. But don't you think that laugh- Honeywood. Well, I do; but remember that ing off our fears is the best way?

universal benevolence is the first law of nature. Honeywood. What is the best, madam, few can [Exeunt Honeywood and Mrs. Crocker. say; but I'll maintain it to be a very wise way. Croaker. Yes; and my universal benevolence

Croaker. But we're talking of the best. Surely will hang the dog, if he had as many necks as a the best way is to face the enemy in the field, and hydra. not wait till he plunders us in our very bed-chamber.

Honeywood. Why sir, as to the best, thatthat's a very wise way too.

ACT V Mrs. Croaker. But can any thing be more absurd, than to double our distresses by our appre

SCENE- AN INN. hensions, and put it in the power of every low fel

Enter OLIVIA, JARVIS. low, that can scrawl ten words of wretched spelling, to torment us.

Olivia. Well, we have got safe to the inn, Honeywood. Without doubt, nothing more ab- however. Now, if the post-chaise were readysurd.

Jarris. The horses are just finishing their oats ; Croaker. How! would it not be more absurd to and, as they are not going to be married, they despise the rattle till we are bit by the snake ?

choose to take their own time. Honeywood. Without doubt, perfectly absurd.

Olivia. You are for ever giving wrong motives Croaker. Then you are of my opinion ? to my impatience. Honeywood. Entirely.

Jarvis. Be as impatient as you will, the horses Mrs. Croaker. And you reject mine?

must take their own time; besides, you don't conHoneywood. Heavens forbid, madam! No sure, sider we have got no answer from our fellow tra. no reasoning can be more just than yours. We veller yet. If we hear nothing from Mr. Leontine, ought certainly to despise malice if we can not op- we have only one way left us. pose it, and not make the incendiary's pen as fatal

Olivia. What way? to our repose as the highwayman's pistol.

Jarvis. The way home again. Mrs. Croaker. O! then you think I'm quite Olivia. Not sq. I have made a resolution to go, right.

and nothing shall induce me to break it. Honeywood. Perfectly right.

Jarvis. Ay; resolutions are well kept, when Croaker. A plague of plagues, we can't be both they jump with inclination. However, I'll go right. I ought to be sorry, or I ought to be glad. hasten things without. And I'll call, too, at the My hat must be on my head, or my hat must be off. bar, to see if any thing should be left for us there.

Mrs. Croaker. Certainly, in two opposite opin- Don't be in such a plaguy hurry, madam, and we ions, if one be perfectly reasonable, the other can't shall go the faster, I promise you. (Exit Jarvis. be perfectly right.

Enter LANDLADY. Honeywood. And why may not both be right, madam? Mr. Croaker in earnestly seeking redress, Landlady. What! Solomon, why don't you and you in waiting the event with good-humour ? move?. Pipes and tobacco for the Lamb there.Pray, let me see the letter again. I have it. This will nobody answer? To the Dolphin ; quick. letter requires twenty guineas to be left at the bar The Angel has been outrageous this half hour. of the Talbot Inn. If it be indeed an incendiary Did your ladyship call, madam? letter, what if you and I, sir, go there; and when Olivia. No, madam. the writer comes to be paid for his expected booty, Landlady. I find as you're for Scotland, madam, seize him.

-But that's no business of mine; married, or not Croaker. My dear friend, it's the very thing; married, I ask no questions. To be sure we had the very thing. While I walk by the door, you a sweet little couple set off from this two days ago shall plant yourself in ambush near the bar; burst for the same place. The gentleman, for a tailor, out upon the miscreant like a masked battery; ex- was, to be sure, as fine a spoken tailor as ever blew tort a confession at once, and so hang him up by froth from a full pot. And the young lady so bashsurprise.

ful, it was near half an hour before we could get Honeywood. Yes, but I would not choose to ex- her to finish a pint of raspberry between us. ercise too much severity. It is my maxim, sir, that Olivia. But this gentleman and I are not going crimes generally punish themselves.

to be married, I assure you. Croaker. Well, but we may upbraid him a little, Landlady. May-be not. That's no business of I suppose ?

[Ironically. Imine; for certain, Scotch marriages seldom turn



out. There was, of my own knowledge, Miss Mac- employment till we are out of danger, nothing can fag, that married her father's footman-Alack-a- interrupt our journey. day, she and her husband soon parted, and now Olivia. I have no doubt of Mr. Honeywood's keep separate cellars in Hedge-lane.

sincerity, and even his desires to serve us. My Olivia. A very pretty picture of what lies before fears are from your father's suspicions. A mind

[Aside. so disposed to be alarmed without a cause, will be

but too ready when there's a reason. Enter LEONTINE.

Leontine. Why let him when we are out of his Leontine. My dear Olivia, my anxiety, till you power. But believe me, Olivia, you have no great were out of danger, was too great to be resisted. I reason to dread his resentment. His repining temcould not help coming to see you set out, though it per, as it does no manner of injury to himself, so exposes us to a discovery.

will it never do harm to others. He only frets to Olivia. May every thing you do prove as fortu- keep himself employed, and scolds for his private nate. Indeed, Leontine, we have been most cru- amusement. elly disappointed. Mr. Honeywood's bill upon the Olivia. I don't know that; but, I'm sure, on city bas, it seems, been protested, and we have some occasions it makes him look most shockingly. been utterly at a loss how to proceed.

Croaker (discovering himself. ] How does he Leontine. How! an offer of his own too. Sure, look now?-How does he look now? he could not mean to deceive us ?

Olivia. Ah! Oliria. Depend upon his sincerity; he only mis- Leontine. Undone. took the desire for the power of serving us. But Croaker. How do I look now? Sir, I am your let us think no more of it. I believe the post-chaise very humble servant. Madam, I am yours. What, is ready by this.

you are going off, are you? Then, first, if you Landlady. Not quite yet; and, begging your please, take a word or two from me with you before ladyship's pardon, I don't think your ladyship quite you go. Tell me first where you are going; and ready for the post-chaise. The north road is a cold when you have told me that, perhaps I shall know place, madam. I have a drop in the house of as as little as I did before. pretty raspberry as ever was tipt over tongue. Just Leontine. If that be so, our answer might but a thimble-full to keep the wind off your stomach. increase your displeasure, without adding to your To be sure, the last couple we had here, they said information. it was a perfect nosegay. Ecod, I sent them both Croaker. I want no information from you, puppy: away as good-natured-Up went the blinds, round and you too, good madam, what answer have you went the wheels, and drive away post-boy was the got? Eh! [A cry without, stop him.] I think I word.

heard a noise. My friend Honeywood without

has he seized the incendiary? Ah, no, for now Enter CROAKER.

I hear no more on't. Croaker. Well, while my friend Honeywood is Leontine. Honeywood without! Then, sir, it upon the post of danger at the bar, it must be my was Mr. Honeywood that directed you hither ? business to have an eye about me here. I think I Croaker. No, sir, it was Mr. Honeywood conknow an incendiary's look; for wherever the devil ducted me hither. makes a purchase, he never fails to set his mark. Leontine. Is it possible ? Ha! who have we here? My son and daughter ! Croaker. Possible! Why he's in the house now, What can they be doing here?

sir ; more anxious about me than my own son, sir. Landlady. I tell you, madam, it will do you Leontine. Then, sir, he's a villain. good; I think I know by this time what's good for Croaker. How, sirrah! a villain, because he takes the north road. It's a raw night, madam.-Sir— most care of your father? I'll not bear it. I tell

Leontine. Not a drop more, good madam. I you I'll not bear it. Honeywood is a friend to the should now take it as a greater favour, if you hasten family, and I'll have him treated as such. the horses, for I am afraid to be seen myself. Leontine. I shall study to repay his friendship

Landlady. That shall be done. Wha, Solo. as it deserves. mon! are you all dead there? Wha, Solomon, I Croaker. Ah, rogue, if you knew how earnestly say!

[Exit, bawling. he entered into my griefs, and pointed out the means Olicia. Well, I dread lest an expedition begun to detect them, you would love him as I do. [A in fear, should end in repentance.-Every moment cry without, stop him.] Fire and fury! they have we stay increases our danger, and adds to my ap- seized the incendiary: they have the villain, the prehensions.

incendiary in view. Stop him! stop an incendiaLeontine. There's no danger, trust me, my dear; ry! a murderer! stop him!

[Erit. there can be none. If Honeywood has acted with Olivia. O, my terrors! What can this tumult honour, and kept my father, as he promised, in mean?


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Leontine. Some new mark, I suppose, of Mr. incendiary? [Seizing the Postboy.] Hold him Honeywood's sincerity. But we shall have satis- fast, the dog: he has the gallows in his face. Come, faction : he shall give me instant satisfaction. you dog, confess; confess all, and hang yourself.

Olivia. It must not be, my Leontine, if you Postboy. Zounds! master, what do you throttle value my esteem or my happiness. Whatever be me for? our fate, let us not add guilt to our misfortunes, Croaker (beating him.] Dog, do you resist ? do Consider that our innocence will shortly be all that you resist ? we have left us. You must forgive him.

Postboy. Zounds! master, I'm not he: there's Leontine. Forgive him! Has he not in every the man that we thought was the rogue, and turns instance betrayed us? Forced to borrow money out to be one of the company. from him, which appears a mere trick to delay us;

Croaker. How! promised to keep my father engaged till we were Honeywood. Mr. Croaker, we have all been unout of danger, and here brought him to the very der a strange mistake here; I find there is nobody scene of our escape?

guilty; it was all an error; entirely an error of our Olivia. Don't be precipitate. We may yet be own. mistaken.

Croaker. And I say, sir, that you're in an error;

for there's guilt and double guilt, a plot, a damned Enter POSTBOY, dragging in JARVIS; HONEYWOOD jesuitical, pestilential plot, and I must have proof entering soon after,

of it. Postboy. Ay, master, we have him fast enough. Honeymoood. Do but hear me. Here is the incendiary dog. I'm entitled to the Croaker. What, you intend to bring 'em off, I reward ; I'll take my oath I saw him ask for the suppose ? I'll hear nothing. money at the bar, and then run for it.

Honeywood. Madam, you seem at least calm Honeywood. Come, bring him along. Let us enough to hear reason. see him. Let him learn to blush for his crimes.

Olivia. Excuse me. [Discovering his mistake.] Death! what's here? Honeywood, Good Jarvis, let me then explain it Jarvis, Leontine, Olivia! What can all this mean? to you, Jarvis. Why, I'll tell you what it means: that

Jarris. What signifies explanations when the I was an old fool, and that you are my master— thing is done? that's all.

Honeywood. Will nobody hear me? Was there Honeywood. Confusion!

ever such set, so blinded by passion and prejuLeontine. Yes, sir, I find you have kept your dice! [To the Postboy.] My good friend, I beword with me. After such baseness, I wonder lieve, you'll be surprised when I assure youhow you can venture to see the man you have in- Postboy. Sure me nothing—I'm sure of nothing jured?

but a good beating, Honeywood. My dear Leontine, by my life, my

Croaker. Come then you, madam, if you ever honour

hope for any favour or forgiveness, tell me sincereLeontine. Peace, peace, for shame; and do not ly all you know of this affair. continue to aggravate baseness by hypocrisy. I Olivia. Unhappily, sir, I'm but too much the know you, sir, I know you.

cause of your suspicions: you see before you, sir, Honeywood. Why won't you hear me? By all one that with false pretences has stepped into your that's just, I know not

family to betray it; not your daughterLeontine. Hear you, sir, to what purpose? I

Croaker. Not my daughter? now see through all your low arts; your ever com- Olivia. Not your daughter—but a mean de plying with every opinion; your never refusing ceiver-who-support me, I can notany request: your friendship's as common as a Honeywood. Help, she's going; give her air. prostitute's favours, and as fallacious; all these, sir, Croaker. Ay, ay, take the young woman to the have long been contemptible to the world, and are air; I would not hurt a hair of her head, whosever now perfectly so to me.

daughter she may be--not so bad as that neither. Honeywood. Ha! contemptible to the world!

(Exeunt all but Croaker. that reaches me.


Croaker. Yes, yes, all's out; I now see the Leontine. All the seeming sincerity of your whole affair; my son is either married, or going to professions, I now find, were only allurements to be so, to this lady, whom he imposed upon me as betray; and all your seeming regret for their con- his sister. Ay, certainly so; and yet I don't find sequences, only calculated to cover the cowardice it afflicts me so much as one might think. There's of your heart. Draw, villain!

the advantage of fretting away our misfortunes be

forehand, we never feel them when they come.
Enter CROAKER, out of breath.

Croaker. Where is the villain? Where is the Sir William. But how do you know, madam


that my nephew intends setting off from this please! How have I over-taxed all my abilities, place?

lest the approbation of a single fool should escape Viss Richland. My maid assured me he was me! But all is now over; I have survived my repucome to this inn, and my own knowledge of his in- tation, my fortune, my friendships, and nothing tending to leave the kingdom suggested the rest. remains henceforward for me but solitude and reBut what do I see! my guardian here before us! pentance. Who, my dear sir, could have expected meeting Miss Richland. Is it true, Mr. Honeywood, that Foa here? to what accident do we owe this plea- you are setting off, without taking leave of your sure?

friends? The report is, that you are quitting EnCroaker. To a fool, I believe.

gland: Can it be? Miss Richland. But to what purpose did you Honeywood. Yes, madam ; and though I am so come?

unhappy as to have fallen under your displeasure, Croaker. To play the fool.

yet, thank Heaven! I leave you to happiness; to Miss Richland. But with whom?

one who loves you, and deserves your love; to one Croaker. With greater fools than myself. who has power to procure you affluence, and geneMiss Richland. Explain.

rosity to improve your enjoyment of it. Croaker, Why, Mr. Honeywood brought me Miss Richland. And are you sure, sir, that the here to do nothing now I am here; and my son is gentleman you mean is what you describe him? going to be married to I don't know who, that is Honeywood. I have the best assurances of it-here: so now you are as wise as I am.

his serving me. He does indeed deserve the highMiss Richland. Married ! to whom, sir ? est happiness, and that is in your power to confer.

Croaker. To Olivia, my daughter, as I took her As for me, weak and wavering as I have been, to be; but who the devil she is, or whose daughter obliged by all, and incapable of serving any, what she is, I know no more than the man in the moon. happiness can I find but in solitude ? what hope,

Sir William. Then, sir, I can inform you; and, but in being forgotten? though a stranger, yet you shall find me a friend Miss Richland. A thousand! to live among to your family. It will be enough, at present, to friends that esteem you, whose happiness it will be assure you, that both in point of birth and fortune to be permitted to oblige you. the young lady is at least your son's equal. Being Honeywood. No, madam, my resolution is fixed. left by her father, Sir James Woodville- Inferiority among strangers is easy; but among

Croaker. Sir James Woodville! What, of the those that once were equals, insupportable. Nay, West?

to show you how far my resolution can go, I can Sir William. Being left by him, I say, to the now speak with calmness of my former follies, my care of a mercenary wretch, whose only aim was vanity, my dissipation, my weakness. I will even to secure her fortune to himself, she was sent to confess, that, among the number of my other preFrance, under pretence of education; and there sumptions, I had the insolence to think of loving every art was tried to fix her for life in a convent, you. Yes, madam, while I was pleading the pascontrary to her inclinations. Of this I was inform- sion of another, my heart was tortured with its ed upon my arrival at Paris; and, as I had been own. But it is over: it was unworthy our friendonce her father's friend, I did all in my power to ship, and let it be forgotten. frustrate her guardian's base intentions. I had Miss Richland. You amaze me! even meditated to rescue her from his authority, Honeywood. But you'll forgive it, I know you when your son stepped in with more pleasing vio- will; since the confession should not have come lence, gave her liberty, and you a daughter. from me even now, but to convince you of the sin

Croaker. But I intend to have a daughter of my cerity of my intention of-never mentioning it own choosing, sir. A young lady, sir, whose for- more.

[Going. tune, by my interest with those who have interest, Miss Richland. Stay, sir, one moment-Ha! will be double what my son has a right to expect. he hereDo you know Mr. Lofty, sir?

Enter LOFTY. Sir William. Yes, sir ; and know that you are deceived in him. But step this way, and I'll con

Lofty. Is the coast clear? None but friends? I

have followed you here with a trifling piece of in(Croaker and Sir William scem lo confer. telligence; but it goes no farther, things are not yet

ripe for a discovery. I have spirits working at a

certain board; your affair at the treasury will be Honeywood. Obstinate man, still to persist in done in less than--a thousand years. Mum! his outrage! Insulted by him, despised by all, I Miss Richland. Sooner, sir, I should hope. now begin to grow contemptible even to myself. Lofty. Why, yes, I believe it may, if it falls How have I sunk by too great an assiduity to into proper hands, that know where to push and

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since you.


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