[ A Court before the house. Enter a Hunt in Uniform.—A Flourish of Horns.]
Several.
Hollo! hollo! ye hoicks, Hargrave! ille, ille, hoa!
First Hunter
Hollo—indeed! 'tis almost seven—[looking at his
watch] the scent will be cold. Let's rouse the lazy rogue
with a Song.
Second Hunt.
Aye, a good thought—come begin.
First Hunt. SONG.
Arouse, and break the bands of Sleep,
Blush, Idler, blush, such hours to keep!
Somnus! what bliss canst thou bestow,
Equal to that which Hunters know!
Whether the mountains they attain,
Or swiftly dart across the plain,
Somnus! what joys canst thou bestow
Equal to those which Hunters know?
Hark, through the Wood, how our music resounds!
Horns are re-echoed, more sweet, by the hounds,
Deep throated and clear,
Our spirits they cheer;
They give us such Glee,
No dangers we see,
But follow with pleasure
'Tis Joy beyond measure
To be the first in at the Death, at the Death,
To be the first in at the Death!
Chorus.
Deep throated, &c.
First Hunt.
Ah! my young Hercules!—But how is this dress? dont
you hunt?
Geo.
Oh, I have only changed Liveries. I used to wear that of
Adonis the Hunter, but I resign it now for that of his
mistress, Venus.
Second Hunt.
And a hazardous service you have chosen. I should prefer
Acteon's fate to the Caprice and Insolence of the handsomest
coquette in England.
Geo.
Acteon's fate would be less than you deserve, if, knowing my
Goddess, you should dare profane her by such a description.
Second Hunt.
May I never start Puss, if I believe your Goddess to be
more than a very Woman;—that is, a Being whose Soul is
vanity, form deceitful, and manners artificial.
Geo.
Heydey!—turned Satirist on the Sex at eight and
twenty—what jilting Blowsalind has worked this miracle?
Second Hunt.
Faith, I take my specimens from higher schools. Amongst
the Blowsalinds there are still Nature and Honesty; but,
examine Drawing-rooms and Operas—you'll find Nature
discarded, and Honesty exchanged for Affectation and
Hypocrisy;—so henceforward [smacking his whip] I
abandon all Ladies but those of the Woods, and pursue only
the simple game to which my hounds conduct.
Geo.
Ha! ha!—until you become Society for hounds only.
[Enter. Mr. Hargrave and the Justice.]
Mr Hargrave.
So George,—come, you had better mount;—on the
Downs I'll give you a Lecture upon Air, and the advantages of
a sound constitution, of more real advantage than all you
could hear in a musty college in fifty Terms.
Geo.
I beg Sir to be excused this morning. To-morrow I'll resume
my usual post, and lead—where you only will venture to
follow.
Mr. H.
Well—we shall put you to the test! [Exit. Justice.]
[to George] Yes, yes, you're a keen Sports- man—I
have seen the game you are in pursuit of, scudding away to
the Garden;—beat the bushes, and I'll warrant you'll
start!
First Gent.
Troth, I started a fine young puss a few days
ago;—She was shy and made her doublings, but I followed
close and should infallibly have got her, if that sly
poaching rogue, Drummond, had not laid a Springe in her way.
Justice.
The very puss I mean! Drummond housed her here!
First Hunt.
What, belonged she to a Preserve?—I'll lag after her
no more. Come along Boys—come along—Ille ye
hoics—for lawful game! [Exeunt, all but George.]
Geo.
How critically did Mr. Drummond come to her relief!—from
that brute she would have suffered every indignity that
Ignorance, supported by the Pride of fortune, could have
inflicted.—In the Garden! that's fortunate beyond
expectation; midst Groves and Fountains a Lover should tell
his tale;—and the sweet animation which beamed in her
eyes last night, flatters me that she will not hate me for
telling mine.—I'll go, in all the Confidence of Hope!
[Exit.]
Scene 2
[The Garden. Enter Emily.]
Em.
What a heavenly morning! Surely 'tis England that Summer
visits in her very perfection—sh[e] is no where else so
lovely.—And, what a sweet Garden! But, should I not
divert my attention from these, to commune with my Heart! Is
it the brightness of the Morning, the verdure of the Garden,
or the melody of the birds, that gives thee these enchanting
sensations?—Ah, no—it is that thou hast found thy
Lord—it is that I have again seen the man, who, since I
first beheld him, has been the only Image in my mind. How
different from the empty, the presuming Baldwin! Yet, to him
I owe this obligation, that, if his hateful perserverance had
not forced me from London, I might have seen but once the man
who, that once, possessed himself of my tenderest
wishes.——Ha! [starting.]
[Enter George.]
Geo.
Abroad so early, Madam! In London, fine Ladies are yet in
their first repose.
Em.
If the Morning had been less enticing—yet, it would have
been impossible to have resisted the chearful call of the
Hunters.
Geo.
Oh, it was my good Genius, I thank her, that inspired
them, and did me the favour to lead me hither.
Em.
Does she usually exert herself to no better purpose; her
claims to your gratitude seem but weak!
Geo.
'Till lately I thought so, and supposed her the worst Genius
that ever fell to the lot of poor mortal. But she has
retrieved herself by one or two capital hits, and made me
believe her one of the best disposed Sylphs in all the
regions of Fancy.
Em. [Smiling]
You recommend your attendant very strongly. Have you any
intention to part with her?
Geo.
I'll willingly exchange her, if your Genius will be so
obliging as to take a fancy to me; I'll accept her with all
my heart, and give you mine.
Em.
You would lose by the exchange.
Geo.
Impossible! My quondam friend would say a thousand things
for me; so I should obtain your good opinion, which would be
gain—whatever [touching his bosom] I might lose
to attain it.
Em.
Your Genius is gallant I perceive. But I was on the point of
leaving the garden;—the Ladies I imagine are descended
by this time.
Geo.
Indeed they are not. But, though they were, these are
precious moments which I must not lose! May I presume to use
them in telling you, how happy I am made by the event which
placed you in my Father's house? But you perhaps have forgot
the presumptuous TANCRED, who gave such disturbance to the
Gentleman honoured with the charge of protecting you at the
Masquerade?
Em.
No, Sir, I remember;—and, if I dont mistake, you were
nearly engaged in a fracas with that Gentleman. I was
happy when I observed you stopped by a Mask, and seized that
moment to leave the room.
Geo.
A moment, Madam, which I have never ceased to regret,
'till now;—but now, felicity so unexpected, and unhoped
for—
Em.
All this is out of place here, Sir. Under a mask a
Shepherd may sigh, or an Eastern Prince indulge in florid
speeches, but the delicacies to be observed in real
life are quite incompatible with the stile of a Masquerade.
Geo.
You, who are thus severe on supposed Compliment, will yet
I hope treat more favorably a tender and respectful Passion.
Em.
Sir!
Geo.
I comprehend what your Delicacy must feel, and will
therefore only add that, from the first moment I beheld you,
my Heart has known no other object. You have been the
Mistress of its wishes, and of its fate.
Em. [hesitates]
Indeed, Sir, this—at a time when I must appear in so
strange a light to your family, hurts me greatly—surely
my situation here ought—
Geo.
I acknowledge, Madam, the confession I have dared to make
nothing can excuse—but, the peculiarity of our
situation. In a few moments your Uncle may arrive, and snatch
you from us—such an opportunity may never be mine
again—
[EnterMr. Drummond.]
Mr. D.
So, so, my young ones, have I found you? 'Tis a most
delicious morning;—but, is it usual with you, Madam, to
taste the air so early?
Em.
Yes, Sir, in the Country at least, I seldom sacrificed such
hours to sleep.
Mr. D.
Aye, 'tis to that practice your are indebted for the
roses in your cheeks. What, I suppose, you brought the Lady
into the Garden, George, to give her a Lecture on the
beauties of Flowers—or—on other beauties—or,
perhaps, more abstracted subjects have engaged your thoughts.
Geo.
With such an Object before me, my thoughts cannot be
abstracted, Sir. I found the Lady here, and had scarcely paid
her my Morning Compliments when you appeared.
Mr. D.
For which you do not thank me, I presume. But come, Madam,
you are my Ward, until I have the pleasure of
presenting you to your Uncle; and I come to conduct you to
breakfast. George, you may follow—but, keep your
distance! [Exit, with Emily.]
Geo.
Distance!—as well might you expect shadow not to
neighbour sunshine, or erring mortal to give up hope of
mercy. With what sweet confidence she gives her hand to Mr.
Drummond!—if these are the Privileges of Age, I'll be
young no longer! [Exit.]
Scene 3
[Lady Dinah's dressing-room. Lady Dinah at her Toilette, Susan attending.]
Lady D.
Both in the Garden?—and in deep conversation!
Susan
Yes, my Lady, I saw them from the window; he looked
eagerly in her face, and she blushed, and looked confused.
Lady D.
Confused indeed!—yes, so the impertinent affected to
appear last night; though it was evident that she had neither
eyes or ears but for Mr. Hargrave's Son.
Susan
I dare to say she is some Imposter. Husbands, as we
servants say, in good truth are not so plenty, that a woman
need to run away to escape one.
Lady D.
I have no doubt of her being a low person. And, as to her
Prettiness—'tis that of a wooden Doll; cherry cheeks,
and eyes that, from want fo expression, might be taken for
glass.
Susan
I wonder that Mr. Hargrave did not stand by his own opinion,
and let her stay where she was; but, whatever Mr. Drummond
says is Law here.
Lady D.
Because Mr. Hargrave imagines he'll make his son his
Heir—but, if he does, he'll only come in for his share
with the Paupers of the village.
Susan
Oh, nothing more; for that Mr. Drummond knows no better
than to believe every melancholy tale that's told
him—(here's the Bow, my Lady)—but, if he fancied
her prettiness was in danger, he had better have kept her in
his own house, and stood guard himself.
Lady D.
Aye, whatever keeps him at home, would preserve his
neighbours from much inconvenient interference.—Want of
Rest [looking in the Glass] absolutely transforms me.
The detestable Horns, and their noisy accompaniment waked me
from refreshing Sleep. How do I look to day, Susan?
Susan
Oh, charmingly, my Lady.
Lady D.
'Tis a most provoking circumstance that the colour of my hair
should be so very soon changed—but, the Liquid entirely
hides that accident, I believe.
Susan
Entirely, my Lady;—and then the Bloom, it is
impossible to distinguish it from Nature.
Lady D.
You need not speak so loud!—Pray what do you think of
the young Collegian?
Susan
Oh, my Lady, he is the sweetest, smartest, man—
exactly like the picture of your Ladyship's Brother that died
when he was Twenty."
Lady D.
People used to say that brother, and myself, bore a strong
resemblance.
Susan
I dare say you did, my Lady; for, there's something in
the turn of young Mr. Hargrave's face, vastly like your
Ladyship's. [Stooping and laughing behind her.]
Lady D.
Do you think so?—why then Susan, I believe I may
trust you!—I think you can be faithful.
Susan
Most surely, my Lady, I would rather die than betray your
Ladyship.
Lady D.
Well then—I protest I hardly know how to acknowledge
it—But as it must—
Susan
What my Lady? Your Ladyship alarms me.
Lady D.
I too am alarmed, but I know your faith—[Sighs]—There
will soon be a most intimate, and never to be dissolved
alliance between me—and—Young Mr. Hargrave.
Susan
Law! Young Mr. Hargrave!
Lady D.
Yes, young Mr. Hargrave, Madam. What dost stretch thy
eyes so widely at, wench! Mr. George Hargrave, I say, is to
be my Husband—I am to be his Wife—Is't past thy
comprehension?
Susan
I must humbly beg your Ladyship's pardon—the whole
house concludes your Ladyship is to marry Old Mr.
Hargrave!—but, 'tis clear, the Son is a much more
suitable match for your Ladyship!
Lady D.
Old Mr. Hargrave indeed! the whole house is very
impertinent in its Conclusions. Go and bring the Bergamot
hither.—[Exit Susan.] I marry old Mr
Hargrave! monstrous absurdity!—and, by so preposterous
a union, become the Mother of that fine young fellow his Son!
'twould be insupportable—no Mistress Susan, 'tis Young
Mr. Hargrave—[Enter Susan, suppressing a Laugh]
Here, scent that handkerchief, whilst I write to my Agent to
prepare for the Writings. [Exit.]
Susan [Scenting the
handkerchief]
To prepare for the writings! a very fine business indeed,
and what you'll sorely repent of, my good Lady, take my word
for it. Not all these scented waters—nor any other
waters—will be able to give you sufficient spirits this
time twelvemonth. "A never to be dissolved
Alliance" between Fifty and Twenty, ha! ha!
ha!—I shall expire with the ridiculous Secret—I
must find Jarvis, to tell him—"Never to be
dissolved Alliance!" ha! ha! ha! [Exit.]
Scene 4
[An Apartment. Enter George, Harriet, and Bella.]
Bel.
What Transformations this Love can make! You look as
grave, George, and speak as sententiously, as a Fortune-
teller.
Geo.
And is it only to preserve your Spirits, Bella, that you
keep your heart so cold?
Bel.
The Recipe is certainly not a bad one, if we may judge
from the Effects, on your spirits, of a heart inflamed
by Love. But, I advise you, George, not to let an appearance
of Gravity steal upon you—'tis the most dangerous
character in the world for you.
Geo.
How so?
Bel.
Oh, whilst you can sustain that of a giddy, thoughtless,
undesigning, Great Boy, all the impertinent and
foolish things you commit will be
excused—laughed—at—nay, if accompanied by a
certain manner, they will be applauded. But, do the same
things with a grave reflecting face, and an important air,
and you'll be condemned, nem. con.
[Enter Servant.]
Serv.
Sir Charles Seymour is driving up the Avenue, Sir. [Exit.]
Geo.
Is he?—I am rejoiced at his arrival.
Harriet.
Sir Charles Seymour here Brother? I thought you told us
yesterday that he was on the point of Marriage.
Geo.
Well my dear Harriet and what then? Is his being on the
point of Marriage any reason why he should not be here?—
He is now hastening to pay his devoirs to the Lady. I left
him yesterday at a friend's house on the road, and he
promised to be here to day—but I hear him. [Exit.]
Bel.
Harriet! you look quite pale. I had no idea that Sir Charles
was of serious consequence to you.
Harriet.
My dear Bella—I am ashamed of myself. I'll go with
you to your dressing room—I must not see him whilst I
look so ridiculously; I dread my brother's Raillery.
Bel.
Come then, hold by me. Deuce take it, what business have
Women with Hearts? Interesting men should be shut out of
Society, 'till they grow harmless by becoming Husbands!
[Exeunt.]
[Enter George, and Sir Charles.]
Geo.
Ha! the birds have flown.
Sir Ch.
Let us pursue them then.
Geo.
Pho!—they are not worth pursuing. Bella's a
Coquette, and Harriet in Love.
Sir Ch.
Harriet in Love!
Geo.
Aye, she is indeed!—but that's nothing. I have
Intelligence for thee man—my Incognita's found,
she's now in the house—my beauteous Wood Nymph!
Sir Ch.
Miss Hargrave's heart another's!
Geo.
Miss Hargrave's heart anothers! Why, my sister's heart is
certainly engaged. But, how's all this?
Sir Ch.
O George!—this blow distracts me.—Though I had
not, 'till now, summoned courage to declare myself—I
love—I love your sister—to distraction doat on her!
Geo.
Oh—oh! I'm to have your Secrets confided to me, Sir,
when they can be but an incumbrance! Why did not you tell me
this before? If your Heart had been as open to me, as mine
has ever been to you, I might have served you; but now—
Sir Ch.
Oh, reproach me not, but pity my disappointed hope, I
long have loved her.
Geo.
And not confide your Secret to me! You distrusted
me, Charles, and will be properly punished.
Sir Ch.
Fool, fool, that I was, thus to have planned a
superstructure of happiness for all my life, that in one
moment dissolves into air! I cannot trust myself to see
her—I must leave you.
Geo.
Indeed you shall not leave me, Seymour.—On what
Foundation did you build your superstructure, that you seem
so greatly disappointed?—had my Sister favoured your
addresses?
Sir Ch.
No, I never presumed to make her any; my Fortune was so small
that I had no hopes of obtaining your father's
consent—and therefore made it a point of Honour not to
endeavour to gain her affection.
Geo. [Aside.]
Yes, you took mighty great care!
Sir Ch.
But my Uncle's Will having removed every cause of fear on
that head, I flattered myself I had nothing else to
apprehend.
Geo.
Courage, and your difficulties may vanish! 'Tis your humble
distant Lover who has sung, through every Age, his scornful
Phillis. You never knew a bold fellow, who could love women
without mistaking them for Angels, whine about their cruelty.
Sir Ch.
You tell me your Sister's heart is engaged—then what
have I to struggle for? it was her Heart I wished to possess.
Could Miss Hargrave be indelicate enough—I am sure she
could not—to bestow her hand on me without her Heart, I
would reject her.
Geo.
Brave!—nobly resolved! keep it up by all means.
Come, now I'll introduce you to one of the finest girls you
ever saw in your life—but remember, you are not to
suffer your heart to be interested there, for that's my
quarry—and peril to the man who attempts to rob me of my
prize!
Sir Ch.
Oh you are very secure, I assure you; my heart is
impenetrable now forever! [Exeunt.]
Scene 5
[The Garden. Enter Hargrave and a Servant.]
Mr. H.
Run and tell my Son I want to speak to him here. [Exit
Servant.] Her Forty thousand pounds will just buy the
Greenwood Estate: we shall then have more land than any
family in the County, and a Borough of our own into the
bargain. Aye—But suppose George should not have a mind
to marry her? Why, as to his Mind, when two parties struggle,
the weaker must give way;—the match is for the
advancement of your Fortune, say I, and if that cant satisfy
your mind, you must teach it, what I have always taught
you—Obedience.
[Enter George.]
Oh, George, there's an affair of consequence that—that—
George.
I am all Attention, Sir.
Mr. H.
I—I dont design that you shall return to College any
more. I have other views, which I hope will not be
disagreeable to you.—You—you like Lady Dinah, you
say?
Geo. [Hesitates]
She is a Lady of great Education without doubt.
Mr. H.
I dont know what your notions may be of her Age; I could wish
her a few years younger, but—
Geo.
Pardon me, Sir, I think that to her Age there can be no
objection, and the preference her Ladyship gives to our
family is certainly a high compliment.
Mr. H.
Oh—oh! then you are acquainted already with what I
was going to communicate to you—I am surprised at that!
Geo.
Matrimonial Schemes are seldom long concealed, Sir.
Mr. H.
I was a little uneasy about what you might think of this
affair, on which I have never conversed with any one but Lady
Dinah; but perhaps she may have hinted it to her Woman, and
then I should not wonder if the whole parish knew it—
and all the neighbouring parishes too! However, you have no
objection, and that's enough; though, if you had, I must have
had my way, George.
Geo.
Without doubt, Sir.
Mr. H.
Have you spoken to Lady Dinah on the subject?
Geo.
Spoke—who I Sir?—n—o—Sir. I could
not think of addressing Lady Dinah on so delicate an affair,
without your permission.
Mr. H.
Well then, my dear Boy, I would have you speak to her
now. And, I think, the sooner the better.
Geo.
To be sure, Sir—I shall obey you.
Mr.H.
Well, you have set my heart at Rest—I am as happy as
a Prince.—I never fixed my mind on any thing, in my
life, so much as I have done on this marriage; it would have
galled me sorely if you had been against it—but you are
a good boy, George, a very good boy, and I'll go in, and
prepare Lady Dinah for your Visit. [Exit.]
Geo.
Why, my dear father, the prospect of your nuptials has quite
elated you. But, why must I make speeches to the Lady?
[Enter Bella.]
Bel.
What, have you been opening your heart to your father,
George?
Geo.
No, he has been opening his to me!—he has been
making me the confident of his passion for Lady Dinah.
Bel.
No!—ha! ha! ha!—is it possible?-What stile does he
talk in? is it flames and darts—or Esteem and Sentiment?
Geo.
I dont imagine my good father thinks of either—her
Fortune, I presume, is the object. I shall not venture to
hint an objection; for contradiction, you know, only gives
him fresh ardor: Where are Seymour and Harriet?
Bel.
Your Sister is in the drawing-room, and Sir Charles I
just now saw in the Orange-Walk, with his arms folded
thus—and his eyes fixed on a Shrub, in the most Penseroso
stile you can conceive! Why, George, he has no appearance of
a happy youth in a state of transmigration into a Bridegroom!
Geo.
Ha! ha! ha!
Bel.
Why do you laugh?
Geo.
At the embarrassment I have thrown the simpletons
into—ha! ha! ha!
Bel.
What simpletons? What embarrassment?
Geo.
That you cannot guess, my sweet Cousin, with all your
penetration.
Bel.
I shall expire if you wont let me know it—now
do—pray George—come—be pleased to tell me!
[Courtseying.]
Geo.
No, no, you look so pretty whilst you are coaxing, that I
must see you in that humour a little longer.
Bel.
That's unkind! Come—tell me the Secret—though I
believe I begin to guess it!
Geo.
Nay, then I must tell you; for I shall lose the pleasure
of obliging you if you should find it out—I have made
each believe that the other has a different
engagement—and yet Seymour and my Sister are equally
attached to each other!
Bel.
Oh, I'm rejoiced to hear it.
Geo.
Rejoiced! I assure you, Sir George [sic. Charles] has
highly offended me.
Bel.
How so? He is your Friend, and in all respects an
eligible match for your Sister.
Geo.
Very true—but he has been as chary of his Secret, as
though I had not deserved his utmost confidence.
Bel.
I believe he never addressed your Sister.
Geo.
So he pretends, and perhaps he did not in Form; but that
is a ridiculous Subterfuge;—he tampered with her Heart,
by silent tender observances, the surest battery when there
is time to play it off. If any man, who had thus obtained my
Sister's heart, had left her a prey to disappointment, and
then insisted—that he had said nothing—my
resentment should have taught him that his conduct was not
less dishonourable, than if he had knelt at her feet, and
sworn a thousand oaths.
Bel.
Mercy on us! If every girl had such a Snap- dragon of a
brother, no Beau would venture to come near her.
Geo.
I perceive that Sir Charles has been heaping up the
measure of his offences some time. I recollect now the tricks
he played to get Harriet's picture.—At last he begged to
get the Drapery copied for his Sister's;—I have not a
doubt that it is at this moment in his bosom, though he has
sworn a thousand times that it is still at the Painter's.
Bel.
Ha! I'll fly and tell her.—If I dont mistake, she'd
rather have her picture there, than ranged in a Gallery of
Beauties.
Geo.
Destruction—stop!—And pray why are you not as angry
as I am? Shut out, by parchment provisoes, from all the
flutters of Courtship yourself—you had a right to
participate in Harriet's.
Bel.
Very true. But what pleasure can we have in tormenting
two hearts so attached to each other?
Geo.
I do mean to plague them a little—and it will be the
greatest favour we can do them; for they are such sentimental
people, you know, that they'll blush, and hesitate, and
torment each other six months—before Explanation. By
alarming their Jealousy, they'll betray themselves in as many
hours.
Bel.
So there's not one grain of Mischief in all
this!—all downright Charity! Well, really, in that
light, there is some reason—
Geo.
Aye, more than is necessary to induce you to join in it,
even though there were mischief;—so promise assistance
with a good grace.
Bel.
Well, I do promise; for I really think—
Geo.
Oh, I've your Word—no more parley.
Bel.
A-propos! Here's Harriet—I'm just as angry as you
wish me, and you shall have a good account of her.
[Enter Harriet.]
Harriet
Brother, Mr. Drummond I fancy wonders at your absence;
he's alone with the Lady—
Geo.
He possesses a privilege then that half mankind would grudge
him! [Exit.]
Bel.
Have you seen Sir Charles yet?
Harriet.
Indeed I have not. I confess I was so weak as to retire
twice from the Drawing-room, because I heard his Voice;
though I was conscious my absence must appear odd, and
fearful the cause might be suspected.
Bel.
Ah! pray be careful that you give him no reason to guess
it. I advise you to treat him with the greatest Coldness,
Harriet.
Har.
Most certainly I shall, whatever it costs me. It would be
the most cruel mortification if I thought he could ever
suspect my weakness. I wonder, Bella, whether the Lady he is
to marry—is as handsome as George describes her.
Bel.
What is that to you child?—never think about it. If
you take any interest about him, you ll never behave with a
prooper degree of Scorn.
Har.
Oh, do not fear it; I assure you I possess a vast deal of
scorn for him.
Bel.
[aside. I'm sure you fib!] [to Harriet]—Well,
now for a Sample, he is coming this way I see.
Har.
Is he? come then, let us go!
Bel.
Yes, yes, you are quite a Heroine I perceive. Surely you
will not fly, to prove your indifference? Stay to mortify him
with an appearance of Carelessness and Good humour.—For
instance, look at him with the unmeaning eye with which one
looks over an acquaintance shabbily dressed.—When he
speaks to you, look another way, and, suddenly recollecting
yourself, exclaim—"What are you saying, Sir
Charles! I beg pardon, I really did not
attend!"—then, without minding his Answer,—
"Bella, I was thinking of that elegant fellow who opened
the Ball with Lady Harriet—did you ever see such
expressive eyes? and then the air with which he danced!"
Har.
You'll find me a bad scholar, I believe,—however, I'll
go through the interview if you'll assist.
Bel.
Fear me not.
[Enter Sir Charles.]
Sir. Ch.
Ladies, I had despaired of finding you—I hope I dont
intrude.
Bel.
Sir Charles Seymour can never be an unwelcome intruder.
Sir. Ch.
Miss Hargrave—I have not had the happiness of paying my
respects to you since I arrived—I hope you have enjoyed
perfect Spirits since I left Hargrave place.
[Confusedly.]
Har. [Affecting Gaiety.]
My Spirits are seldom so good as they seem to be now,
Sir.
Sir Ch.
Your looks indeed speak you in possession of that happiness I
wish you! [Sighing.] You, Miss Sydney, are always in
spirits.
Bel.
In general, Sir. I have not Wisdom enough to destroy my
happiness by Reflection.
Sir Ch.
Do you deem being wise a proof of unhappiness?
Bel.
One might really think so; for wise folks are always
grave.
Har.
Then I'll never aim at Wisdom;—henceforward I'll be
all Gaiety, devote myself to pleasure, and live only to
laugh!
Bel.
Unless you do as I do—laugh at your own
absurdities—you may not always find a subject, Cousin.
Har.
Oh, we need not confine our views at home; the world
abounds with subjects for Mirth;—the Men will furnish a
sufficient number, though other resources fail.
Sir Ch.
Miss Hargrave was not always so severe.
Har.
Fie, Sir Charles—dont mistake Pleasantry for
severity;—but, exuberant Spirits frequently overflow in
impertinence—I pardon your thinking that mine do.
Sir Ch.
Impertinence! Surely you cannot suppose I meant to—
Har.
Nay, Bella, I appeal to you; did not Sir Charles intimate
some such thing?
Bel.
Why—a—I dont know—To be sure there was a
kind of distant intimation;—though, perhaps, Sir Charles
only means—that you are rather awkward in your
merriment!—ha! ha!
Sir Ch.
Vastly well, Ladies!—well then we'll mutually agree
to understand expressions in what manner we please; and
therefore—when a Lady's eyes speak Disdain, I may
construe it Love!
Har.
That's an error men are apt to fall into; but the expressions
of the eyes are always sincere—they come from the Heart!
Sir Ch.
Then pray examine mine, Madam, and, by the report you
make, I shall judge of your proficiency in their language.
Bel.
Oh, I'll examine them, Sir Charles;—I am a better judge
than Harriet. Let me see—aye—'tis so—the one
talks Love and Jealousy—the other of Hope and a Wedding.
Now, dont I real well?
Sir Ch.
Could but that hope be fulfilled, I would ask no more of
Fate! Will You examine whether she reads correctly or not,
Madam? [To Harriet.]
Har.
You are so entirely satisfied with Bella's performance, Sir,
that I will not attempt to render them differently. Come,
Cousin, let us return to our company. [Impatiently.]
Bel.
[Apart] Fie! that air of Pique is enough to ruin all.
Sir Ch.
Do you then not find the garden agreeable, Miss Hargrave?
I begin to think it charming!
Har.
I find nothing particularly agreeable in it,
Sir,—and the happy seek Society! I wondered to see you
alone. Come Bella.
Bel.
Bravo! [Exit, with Harriet.]
Sir Ch.
Why,—what is become of that dove-like Softness which
threw me into dreams of bliss?—Seek Society! Oh Harriet,
my Harriet! to possess thy society, with the hope
that once glowed in my bosom, would be a blessing for which I
would willingly sacrifice every other hope in Life. [Exit.]
END OF ACT II
