Wallace, Lady Eglantine. The Ton; or, Follies of Fashion. Edited with an Introduction by Daniel J. O'Quinn. British Women Playwrights around 1800. 15 June 2004 .
ACT V.
SCENE [I], St. James's Park.
[Enter Villiers and Ormond.]
VILLIERS.
Yes, Ormond, the lovely Julia Raymond sent for me, and, with tears of anguish, bade me tell you, that she is gone to a Convent, from whence she is determined never to return.LORD ORMOND.
Curst ill-fated hour! in which I madly sullied her angel purity.VILLIERS.
She said she would be inhuman to suffer the noble generosity of your soul, to ruin your repose in order to establish her own. Her heart is too replete with sensibility ever to be happy as your wife.LORD ORMOND.
O, what a treasure! that heart had been guarded by a fond parent, directing her infant steps from folly, and seconding that love of virtue, which nature implanted in her bosom, but which the errors of education have rendered a source of misery, that, from the very morning of her days, has obscured every hope of happiness.VILLIERS.
Most pathetically she repined at being robbed of such a protection—to have saved her from a situation that has overwhelmed her in shame—Whilst her heart is uncorrupted—Ormond! Ormond! Why did you render such an innocent thus wretched, when the world is filled with willing wantons?LORD ORMOND.
Freely I own, and severely repent my crime. Gracious Providence! Did I ever think I could so far forget myself as to be such a villian!VILLIERS.
I feel most sincerely for you both.LORD ORMOND.
Oh! fly to her,—tell her, in spite of my doating tenderness for Lady Clairville, I will repair her wrongs, let misery be the fate of Ormond.VILLIERS.
That now is impossible—she is fled to solitude—penitence—and sorrow:—She bade me desire you to confide her ill-fated story to Lady Clairville.LORD ORMOND.
No, no, never will I expose the suffering innocent.VILLIERS.
She said the woman who merits your heart must have a soul above abusing such a confidence, and must doubly adore your exalted sentiments. But the soul of Julia Raymond is too noble ever to have consented to your union, when opposed not only by difference of religion,—but also the sacrifice of your honor.LORD ORMOND.
Noble, exalted girl! of what heroic conduct is not the feeling soul of woman capable!VILLIERS.
Yes, were there half the pains bestowed on improving their minds, which are employed in rendering their persons seducing. LORD ORMOND.
Alas! I tremble for her future peace!VILLIERS.
She wept,—she blest,—but did not once reproach you.—She said she'd be consoled by thinking, that in renouncing the world she secures your peace—and vowed that every prayer which she addressed to the Deity, to who she dedicated her future days, should implore blessings on Ormond and Augusta.LORD ORMOND.
I cannot bear that such a soul should be immured in a convent.VILLIERS.
Much, I fear, that nothing but telling Lady Clairville, Julia's story, will ever tempt her to pardon you.LORD ORMOND.
I will not tell it—and yet, that she should think me a perjured villain, I cannot bear.VILLIERS.
I promised Julia, that if you would not inform her, that I myself would.LORD ORMOND.
Well, I must tell her myself—Will you try to persuade her to go to the masquerade to-night?—there I may approach her when unknown.[Exeunt.
[Enter Mrs. Tender, Macpharo, Villiers, and Daffodil.]
DAFFODIL, [Laughing]
I positively don't believe one word of that marriage.MRS. TENDER.
Well, I do; for men, when they cannot play the rogue, will play the fool—ha, ha, ha!—But have you heard of the sad affair which has happened to my poor friend, Lady Raymond{.}DAFFODIL, [Aside.]
Oh, now I shall enjoy the being roasted so much. He, he, he! VILLIERS.
Ha! what has happened?MRS. TENDER.
Only caught in a house of notorious fame, locked up with Lord Bonton. [Aside.] I trust they don't know of my unlucky detection.MACPHARO.
Faith, you may say that, locked in his arms.VILLIERS.
This is untrue; I know her honor too well ever to doubt it.MRS. TENDER.
[Omnes. Ha, ha, ha!
Oh, no one can doubt its existence, since she has deposited it in the hands of so many witnesses.DAFFODIL.
Lord, they don't know that it was me; I must tell it—Oh, yes, I will.VILLIERS.
She is all innocence, but it is only such characters that awaken malice.MACPHARO.
„Pon my conscions now, I think it not probable that she went there, for nothing at all, at all; and as for defamation, I think it is you who defame Bonton, by supposing that she preserved her purity in such a situation.VILLIERS.
If she was in such a situation.DAFFODIL.
But be assured, that all of you are misinformed, to my certain knowledge. He, he, he!MRS. TENDER.
Sir, I must be right; I had it from one who was present. VILLIERS.
Pray, what were the consequence of the detection?MRS. TENDER.
The usual ones, impudence on the part of her Ladyship; rage on that of her Lord, and fresh business for Doctors Commons.MACPHARO.
Pho, pho! there you are out of the story again. Raymond was not so vulgar as to be in a rage; no, no; he, like a man of fashion, asked pardon for intruding, said he had mistaken the room, hoped to see Bonton at dinner, and singing—Trumpete, trumpete, tra, tra, tra. He walked coolly down stairs.DAFFODIL.
All a mistake. He, he, he! if you will force me to speak, I will tell you, for it soon will be known. „Pon my soul it was vastly unfortunate—He, he, he!—But it was I who was detected with Lady Raymond.MACPHARO.
You; no, no, Daffy; this is one of your own puffs, my boy.DAFFODIL.
[Omnes. Is it possible!
I vow that it is true. I chanced to be with Lady Raymond in a room at Madame Commode's when that old blundering fellow, Bonton, chose that very time and place to pay his court to Clara. Lord Raymond, who, you know, is too fashionable to be jealous of his wife, or desirous of meeting her, was in quest of his mistress; and by ill luck he stumbled upon us in the most ridiculous situation shut up in a clothes press—He, he, he!MRS. TENDER.
And there is his sister, Miss Raymond,—she is gone off to a convent, her friends say; but we know better.DAFFODIL.
To a convent! Oh, she has a handsome groom of the chambers with her, I warrant.VILLIERS.
This is pure malice; every syllable false.MRS. TENDER.
Most probably it is so, for the vile world is so ill-natur'd, I don't believe half what I hear.VILLIERS.
Madam, Madam! it were a wicked world indeed, if one believed half what you say.MRS. TENDER.
In truth, I only repeat what I hear, to gain information; Heaven knows, I pity the poor things: but I hope the slur will now be cleared up between Ormond and Lady Clairville. DAFFODIL.
Oh, that in a little time will speak for itself. He, he, he!MRS. TENDER.
Ha! I thought there was a cause for the long cloak last time I saw her.VILLIERS, [To Daffodil.]
Sir, I desire you may never more dare to mention that Lady's name. When such things as thou are suffered to prate, no wonder characters thus bleed.MACPHARO.
Hold, Villiers; you know, Sir, killing is his trade.VILLIERS.
And the murdering female reputation, all the slaughter he has ever committed.MACPHARO.
Faith, I do believe it is that only way by which Daffy has ever signalized himself. Ha, ha, ha!—But sure you can't at least accuse him of using sharp weapons.VILLIERS.
[Omnes. Ha, ha, ha!
No, his wit has no point.MACPHARO.
By the Lord Harry, he minds me of firing with an empty pistol; he aims, but cannot hit.VILLIERS.
[Omnes. Ha, ha, ha!
If he has no joke in his conversation, at least his character and figure affords one every where.DAFFODIL.
Lord, Sir, how vastly rude!—there would be an end of all polite conversation, if one dared not repeat private anecdotes.VILLIERS.
[Exit Villiers. [Omnes. Ha, ha, ha!
These pestilential recorders of scandal are not to be endured.MRS. TENDER.
But let us go inquire after the Raymonds, and hasten to the masquerade to caution society against these profligate, unprincipled creatures![Exeunt.
SCENE [II], Lord Raymond's.
[Enter Lord Raymond and Levy.]
LEVY.
Don't be in such gran passion, my Lord, if not pay de monies.LORD RAYMOND.
How much do I owe that villain Macpharo?—He was detected at the club slipping a card, and my resentment led me to be the first to turn him down stairs: he sneeringly bid me prepare to pay him instantly the money which I borrow'd through you.—I feel degraded by being the debtor of such a fellow: yet how can I pay him, I am totally undone!LEVY.
O, de damn dog to cheat the gentleman so! Oh, it be sad, terrible times!—der be no honesty; no-body to be trusted. LORD RAYMOND.
Pray, was the twelve thousand I last had of you, from him?LEVY.
No, no, Shir, you only owes him one five thousand; it be another correspondent of mine dat lend dat monies.LORD RAYMOND.
[Follows him passionately.
What correspondent?—Tell me who I am the slave of! speak instantly, or expect no mercy.LEVY.
Ah, Shir, would you have me betray de name of my correspondent? You not be entitled to know de name of de lender—de borrower only have de right to see dat he get de sterling monies—No, no, Ben Levy be honorable, be true to his word.LORD RAYMOND.
[Shaking him.] You substitute! decoy-duck! stone-eater! slow-poison! tell me instantly the name, or else I'll put you to death.LEVY.
Ah, Shir! hold, spare my life, it is not insured, have mercy on me!—It be A. B. who lend de monies. LORD RAYMOND.
A. B.!—What A. B.?LEVY.
Your wife.—[Aside.] Vat shall I say for de premium which I told de Lender insisted upon? Ah, poor Levy be in sad taking!LORD RAYMOND. [Amaz'd.]
My wife!LEVY.
Yes, she make me sell her diamondsh to get monies for you, and she wanted no more den the personal securities; but, me tought she cou'd make noting of dat, and as the principal vas all gone, I secure for her double interest; but she not know dis: all she ask me vas to keep it secret, and now you force me to tell.LORD RAYMOND.
[Exit.
Is it possible she should be so generous, so forgiving! There—there is the five thousand! Hasten to pay Macpharo, and pardon my violence, Levy; I was out of humour with the world; but I must fly to seek my lovely wife.LEVY.
Oh, dear! how many vould be happy to have such a wife, few husbon would complain if they give dem only di horn of plenty. Every body be greedy, avaricious dogs, but poor little Levy.[Exit.
SCENE [III], Lady Raymond's House.
[Lady Raymond sola.]
How completely wretched am I! Why, why did I marry the man I fondly loved? Hard—hard is her fate, who is forced to despise the object of her fond affection! Who forfeits her confidence! loads her with unjust suspicions, renders her the jest of his merciless sex, and insulted by the scorn of her own, who know not half her purity and truth! Yet, alas! how well I have justified this insult: Oh! till now, I never thought it requires even more the appearance of virtue in society, than in reality! Yet, the open, honest heart, never thinks thus till it is too late.[Enter Lord Raymond.]
[Lady Raymond looks cold and haughty.]
LORD RAYMOND.
Can my amiable Fanny pardon a sincere penitent?LADY RAYMOND.
Can you pardon yourself, my Lord, for supposing me capable of having deviated from what I owe my duty, however little you may feel yourself entitled to from my love.LORD RAYMOND.
Oh! never, never can I forgive myself, and your just reproaches will distract me.LADY RAYMOND.
Alas, my Lord! you have none to fear. Those tears of anguish which your kindness caused, I never obtruded on your sight—yet secretly in my heart all their bitterness preyed unuttered, and unpitied.LORD RAYMOND.
Oh, my Fanny! remorse, tenderness, and gratitude render my feelings inexpressible. Alas! in this moment, in which I have learnt to value, as I ought, your generous heart, I tremble with fears of having lost it for ever.LADY RAYMOND.
If hereafter you shou'd meet a feeling soul which cannot be seduced either by the temptations of the world or the feelings of resentment—Oh, rescue it from the only pang that is insupportable—which has ruined my peace forever—the finding myself, for a moment, an object of doubt, from circumstances that alone originated in a fond wish to see you happy.LORD RAYMOND.
I know it, my dear girl; all your noble conduct in assisting me by the means of Levy, also the amiable motive that led you to Clara's: judge then of my grateful tenderness. LADY RAYMOND.
What! has Levy betrayed me? Oh, the Judas!LORD RAYMOND.
He has been the means of rescuing me from worse than an object of poverty, from becoming despicable, by persisting in my follies, and neglect of thee. Macpharo has been detected cheating, and, afraid that I owned him all that money, which I find you generously lent to me, I flew to Levy, and forced him to tell me all.LADY RAYMOND.
I well knew that he was a base one.LORD RAYMOND.
I was more severe upon him than the rest; and he sneeringly, bid me prepare to pay him the money I borrowed of him through the medium of Ben Levy.LADY RAYMOND.
This is but one of the many bad consequences which arise from treating every wretch that has plenty of money, no matter how acquired, as a friend and companion; whilst birth, honor, and every virtue, are depressed by poverty.—I knew he was a vile fellow, and had you treated me with more confidence, I should have told you ere now. But how can we procure money to pay him?—I'll fly again to my father! [Going.]LORD RAYMOND.
Generous, noble girl!—Stop, he is paid—"I imagined from what he said, that I owed him all that you kindly advanced me—I flew to the Israelite, and forced him to tell me to whom I was indebted—and, oh, my Fanny! words cannot express my feelings at your generous delicacy."—Your money proved very fortunate; I won back a great part of my losses; and for ever I forswear the follies of fashion, and devote the rest of my life to my sweet girl.LADY RAYMOND.
Then she will be happy beyond the reach of misfortune! "This assurance has made the anguish you found me o'erwhelmed in, give way to the most lively joy."—Let us forget the past, and, by mutual confidence, for the future, study the happiness of each other.—But indeed, you must not retain so much fashion about you, as to be ashamed to protect your poor Fanny, who has been sadly beset.LORD RAYMOND.
No.—my greatest joy and pride shall ever be to shew my respect and adoration for her virtues.LADY RAYMOND.
Well then, do help me to protect poor Clara, and to support her in the paths of peace and honor. But, Heavens! what wou'd Mrs. Tender not say did she chance to hear of your suspicions of me.LORD RAYMOND.
Fear nothing, my Fanny. Virtue may be traduced but never can be injured. Such a soul as yours is above all praise, and far beyond the reach of malice. But we must hasten to the masquerade in our new characters of the happy man and wife.LADY RAYMOND.
Indeed, my Henry, all the world will think that you have adopted that character as the surest disguise.LORD RAYMOND.
Dissipation and indifference are only the masks of fashion, which I now drop, to be myself affectionate and rational; I have too perfect a sense of what I have lost by neglecting my lovely wife, ever again to sacrifice her esteem, by following the unfeeling vices of fashion.LADY RAYMOND.
[With joy.] Then all my sombre melancholy will be turned to wild transport and gaiety.[Exeunt.
SCENE [IV], A Masquerade. All the characters.—A Dance.
[Lady Clairville, in the Character of a Vestal, seated alone—
Lord Ormond in a black domino.]LORD ORMOND.
Oh, Villiers! there she sits; let me take courage, and speak to her—[Goes and sits by her.]—Is it possible that so lovely a form could, thus cruel to our sex, take the cold vow of celibacy?LADY CLAIRVILLE.
Rather is it possible, that a man who ought to know the contemptible inconstances and perfidy of his own sex, shou'd wonder at such a resolution having been formed, by one, who has perhaps been a wretched sacrifice to duplicity, and a lover's perfidy?LORD ORMOND.
Trust not your own heart, fair Lady; things are not always what they seem.—I cou'd tell you a story of ill-fated love, which wou'd convince you that a man may appear false, when only a wretched victim to honor.LADY CLAIRVILLE.
Oh, some fable! fancied in a romantic girl's enthusiastic brain: few men now-a-days sacrifice even their poorest caprice to honor, tho' they wou'd easily the life of their dearest friend——to what they falsely term the point of honor.LORD ORMOND.
Alas! this ill-fated man loved to madness, the most exalted of her sex; his only hope of joy was in making her the partner of his fate.LADY CLAIRVILLE.
[Sighing.] Oh! if he was disappointed in such tender hopes, he was a wretch indeed!LORD ORMOND.
Unfortunately led into a state of intoxication, when insensible of his actions, he was tempted to triumph over the sister of his best friend; an innocent girl; exposed by the frivolity and errors of a modern education. What would you think of the man, who, to repair his injury to his friend, and the unsuspecting victim of his passion, not only sacrificed his beloved, promised wife, but doubly murdered his own repose, by appearing inconstant, and wantonly perfidious?LADY CLAIRVILLE.
Oh! I'd deify his manly resolution, which enabled him generously to forfeit his mistress's esteem and his own happiness, rather than publish the dishonor of this unfortunate!LORD ORMOND.
Such a man does exist. Such a story is true in all its particulars; the sufferings of his soul I cannot attempt to describe. LADY CLAIRVILLE.
Oh, I well know them all!LORD ORMOND.
One thing I must add, the poor girl, on hearing the tenderness which existed between the till then, happy pair, fled from him: rather than repair her peace at the price of theirs; and enjoined her destroyer to tell his adored mistress her story to justify his apparent perfidy.LADY CLAIRVILLE.
Oh, may he be happy! How I reverence his generosity and honor!—But one thing seems to obscure their luster—how came he to confide such a story to you?LORD ORMOND.
[Unmasks and kneels.] Alas! that wretch is Ormond! who has ever with the tenderest passion adored his Augusta, whose expressions of benevolence now bid him hope for pity and forgiveness.LADY CLAIRVILLE.
[Exeunt Lord Ormond and Lady Clairville.] [Mrs. Tender and Daffodil unmasked—Lord and Lady Raymond listen to them masked.]
Oh, Heavens! How shall I support my present feelings! Is it then possible that my Ormond has been thus afflicted—Suffered such martyrdom for honor and Augusta!—But I feel myself so disordered, I must retire. Misery had totally sunk my drooping spirits—Happiness now agitates and overwhelms them.MRS. TENDER.
Heavens! did you see them? They were absolutely indecent in company.DAFFODIL.
Yes; and, to complete matters they are gone off together.MRS. TENDER.
No wonder that Miss Raymond preferred a convent to such a graceless varlet. Oh she would have had a pretty time of it with this infamous lady Clairville.DAFFODIL.
Have you seen Lady Raymond since her detection? I suppose she will think no more reserve necessary, but dash away.MRS. TENDER.
Oh never doubt it; and her lord—poor mean wretch, will very contentedly pocket all favors.DAFFODIL.
How has he settled with Macpharo?—I suppose he is totally done up.MRS. TENDER.
[All unmask and laugh.
All, I hope, is by this time under execution; this Macpharo is an odious fellow. I always had an aversion to him. These Irish fellows are the devil. I always have my eye upon them. Indeed this age is so very profligate I must go bury myself; I must cut Lady Clairville and Lady Raymond's acquaintance after all these slurs upon them. I must retire to the country: I cannot longer witness such wickedness.VILLIERS.
Yes, Madam; to retire to the country is now your only plan. Infamous woman! to make the preaching of religion and sentiments a screen to such profligate vice and depravity.LORD RAYMOND.
In Lady Raymond's name I thank you as I ought, for your kind reports of me; also for the plot you laid to expose her. Ha, ha, ha![Omnes. Ha, ha, ha!
MRS. TENDER.
Infamous, insulting, contented, despicable wretch! [Exit.LORD RAYMOND.
[Enter Lady Clairville and Lord Ormond.]
Be not uneasy, my Fanny, at her venemous scurrility; the confidence which I feel in your matchless goodness the voice of millions could not shake.LADY BONTON.
Lady Clairville, why sure you have not forgot your friend Captain Daffodil.LADY CLAIRVILLE.
I never had the honor of seeing that gentleman before.VILLIERS.
What, Daffy, after being so bless'd at Tunbridge! this is mortifying!LADY CLAIRVILLE.
What can you mean? I never was at Tunbridge in my life.LADY BONTON.
Only, my dear, this pretty face'd coxcomb, whose society is sought for by many that wish to hear his scandals, has done you the favor to say that he was mighty well with you at Tunbridge.LORD RAYMOND.
"He has the same inclination to defame with Mrs. Tender, though I fancy he has a better right to talk scandal; for I take him to be much the chastest of the two, spite of all his boasted bonnes fortunes."ū[All laugh
LORD ORMOND.
What has the villain dared——LORD RAYMOND.
Stop, Ormond; I have more cause of quarrel than you have; but one can neither expect from him the conduct of a man or the satisfaction of a gentleman.—So don't frighten the poor thing out of its wits.LADY BONTON.
Or rather senses, for wit he has none.LORD BONTON.
Raymond, you have no cause to quarrel, for you know he vow'd he was innocent as the child unborn, and never even attempted to injure you.LADY BONTON.
How foolish he looks! Ha, ha, ha!VILLIERS.
For once then he appears in character.DAFFODIL.
Well, gentlemen, you may be envious as you please. He, he, he! The ladies all will court and caress me after this, and console me for your spiteful taunts. [Goes out, then returning] But one thing you cannot deny; I was fairly locked up with her, and have not told what pass'd. But I must run and tell the Duchess of Dash and all my set, that your Lordship don't mean to bore me for damages. He, he, he![Exit.
[All laugh.LORD RAYMOND.
Ormond, I wish you joy!LORD ORMOND.
And I felicitate you on being recovered from the follies of the Ton to a sense of the blessings you enjoy in your amiable wife.LORD RAYMOND.
I trust the example of our better halfs will tempt the ladies all to emulate those virtues which have made us for ever renounce the follies of fashion, and devote our future lives to that only real comfort which Heaven has bestowed on mortals,—virtuous, mutual, wedded love.LADY RAYMOND
Blest with a feeling heart, a virtuous mind
When freed from Ton, what social bliss we find;
But sure no joys e'en heartfelt love can cause,
Such raptures give us all the JUSTS' applause.THE END.
Written by Captain MORRICE.
Spoken by Mrs. WELLS.
Is the storm over? Is the thunder past?
And shall the Epilogue be heard at last?
„ Tis our last word, a word you know of old,
That's always ready when you rave and scold.
But where beseech? Where best bestow my breath?
I can't press you [To the Pit] already press'd to death;
No, there's no room your anger to bewitch,
You can't be moved, you're screw'd to such a pitch.
Methinks I hear some prompting spirit cry,
" Look up in your distress! Hope lives on high!"
[To Gallery.] Shall I there find her? Sure you won't suppress
Your noblest power, ye Gods, your power to bless.
For you, fair nymphs [Boxes.] who melt in approbation,
This play, I trust, you'll call a relaxation;
And sure our author's thirst of letter'd fame
Deserves from polish'd hearts a shelter'd name;
" For brave it was thus fairly on stage ¾
" To meet the coxcomb's and the gambler's rage:
" Fearless in Virtue's cause to draw the pen,
" And prove what women dare against you men."
*No swords or pistols, true, she has to dread,
*But from their malice she is sure to bleed;
*Nor scandals raised, and spread in morning papers,
*Are weapons far more deadly than their rapiers."Now for myself some pity I shou'd wake,
Unskill'd, unpractis'd in the task I take;
Here, where the pow'rs of finish'd speakers shine,
How silly was it to make choice of mine!
Of me, a weed, unknown to Rhet'ric's flow'rs,
A simple cowslip in these fragrant bow'rs
What can I do? but rest my hopeless aims
On imitative arts and borrow'd names:
Call to your eyes delights you oft have felt,
And try with copy'd charms to please and melt.[Here was introduced the Imitation of the ISABELLA.]
"Thus the young artist, fearful of each stricture, ¾
"With dissidence first ventures on a picture;
"More than content, if he escapes from blame:—
"Your praise may give the portraiture a name,
"And fix—if just, a character and fame."
* These four lines were added by the authoress since the Epilogue was spoken.
¾The lines in the inverted commas, were added by Captain Topham.