University of Virginia Library

SCENE, the Apartments of Mrs. Bijou.
Mr. Bijou.
Where the deuce is my wife?—All her rarities plac'd!
Her apartments adjusted with exquisite taste!
Some disaster has happen'd, or she would be here,
Where she ought to be waiting to welcome the Peer;
And I fancy I heard her in anger below.

Enter Mrs. Bijou, in great Agitation.
Mr. Bijou.
What's the matter, my love?

Mrs. Bijou.
O, my dear, such a blow!
I really had swoon'd, if vexation and wrath
Had not quicken'd my spirits, to scold at the Goth.
That awkward old Joan!—an unmannerly minx!
Has knock'd off the nipple, my dear, from a Sphinx;
And now on our chimney it cannot be plac'd,
With a wound so indelicate maim'd and disgrac'd.
But I've happily got these two Griffins of gold,
In the room of the Sphinxes, our candles to hold.

Mr. Bijou.
My dear, the exchange is most lucky and right,
For a Sphinx is an awkward dispenser of light;
But whether your Griffin's of gold or of copper,
A flame from his mouth is exceedingly proper.

Mrs. Bijou.
By your lessons, my love, I improve in Virtù:
All the gusto I have, I have gather'd from you.—
I have fixt the Great Mummy, my dear, to the wall,
Lest the pert Lady Harriot should give him a fall:
She'd be glad to throw down my old king, out of spite;
And I would not be vext in our triumph to-night.
I know our new picture will stir up her gall,
And this Titian will make us the envy of all.
My dear, don't you think it looks well by this light?

Mr. Bijou.
The colours, indeed, are uncommonly bright.

Mrs. Bijou.
What a beautiful youth is this Joseph!—I swear,
I am more and more charm'd with his delicate air;
I delight in him more since I've found, dear Bijou,
That in one of his features he's very like you.

Mr. Bijou.
Where can you, my dear, any likeness suppose?

Mrs. Bijou.
I protest he has got the true turn of your nose;
Not the aquiline curve, but a little Socratic:
And his eye flashes fire, that is chastly ecstatic.—
There's a rap at our door! and I hope my Lord's come.
If vexation and envy do not strike him dumb,
I think he'll harangue, like a critic of Greece,
On the exquisite charms of this beautiful piece!
I long to behold how he's touch'd by the sight:
But I know that his envy will sink his delight.
The moment he sees it, he'll think his luck cruel,
In missing so precious a cabinet jewel.

Enter Mr. Beril and Mr. Cycle.
Mr. Bijou.
Dear Cycle, I take this exceedingly kind;
And I hope you've not left your Cremona behind.
In your presence to-night I most truly rejoice,
And shall call for the aid of your hand and your voice,
(As my wife gives a snug little concert below)
When you've seen what her upper apartments can shew.

Mr. Cycle.
You may freely command me, my friend, as you please.

Mrs. Bijou.
You're a judge, Mr. Beril, of treasures like these;
And I'm eager to shew you a Titian, that's new
Since we last had the joy of a visit from you.

Mr. Beril.
The story is told, Ma'am, with striking expression.

Mrs. Bijou.
Don't you envy my husband this brilliant possession?
I thought you'd burst forth into rapturous praise;
But with no keen delight on this picture you gaze!

Mr. Beril.
To confess, Ma'am, the truth, I'm a whimsical being,
And a subject like this I've no pleasure in seeing.
On your lovely sex 'tis a satire most bitter,
That ill-nature may laugh at, and levity titter:
But I'm griev'd, when an artist has lavish'd his care
On a story that seems a disgrace to the Fair.

Mrs. Bijou.
Our sex's chief lustre, I own, it obscures:
But think what a lesson it offers to yours!

Enter Lady Harriot, Lady Frances, Lord Seewell, and Mr. Careless.
Mr. Bijou.
My dear Lord, I this instant was wishing for you.
Your voice is decisive in points of Virtù;
And you're come in the moment to end an odd strife,
In a matter of taste about Potiphar's wife.—
Should her story be painted?—We want your decision;
And here is the picture that caus'd our division.

Lord Seewell.
Ha! my poor old acquaintance!—But how, dear Bijou,
How the deuce could this picture find favor with you?
I hope that rogue Varnish has play'd you no trick.—
You have paid no great price—

Mrs. Bijou.
I am cut to the quick!
Sure, my Lord, you ne'er look'd on this picture before?

Lord Seewell.
Dear Madam! 'tis one that I turn'd out of door;
And, as I may aid you to 'scape from a fraud,
I'll proceed to inform you, I bought it abroad,
To relieve the distress of an indigent youth,
Who copied old Masters with spirit and truth;
And when it came home, as I valu'd it not,
My steward, by chance, this gay furniture got.
To a new house of his it has lately been carried;
And as your friend Varnish his daughter has married,
I suppose the sly rogue by this picture has try'd,
To encrease the small fortune he gain'd with his bride.
Search the garment of Joseph! you'll find on its hem,
And within a dark fold, the two letters T. M.

Mrs. Bijou.
Aye! there is the mark!—we are cheated, we're plunder'd.
That infamous villain, to ask me eight hundred!—
But the law shall restore it.

Mr. Bijou.
See! Mrs. Bijou,
See the fruits of my hasty indulgence to you!

Lord Seewell.
Chear up, my old friend!—'Tis my wish, that this night
May be witness to nothing but peace and delight.
I'll engage to make Varnish your money restore;
And perhaps this adventure may save you much more.
All we old connoisseurs, if the truth we would own,
Have, at times, been outwitted with canvass or stone:
But here's one, whose example our tribe now invites
To correct our mistakes, and improve our delights.
Here's Beril, tho' blest with a treasure most rare,
That with few works of art will admit of compare,
Gives up the proud joys, that on such wealth attend,
For the nobler delight of assisting a friend!

Mr. Beril.
My Lord! you amaze me; how could you divine?—
O, Careless! your zeal has betray'd my design.

Lord Seewell.
You have fixt on the traitor, yet are not aware,
That you're almost involv'd in a dangerous snare:
But I'll shew you this traitor's accomplice, my friend,
And tell you what mischief these plotters intend.
You must know, Tom and Harriot in concert pursue
Their dark machinations 'gainst Frances and you:
They have sworn you've a tender esteem for each other,
Which you both have in modesty labour'd to smother.
If their charge can be prov'd, I your freedom restrain,
And sentence you both to the conjugal chain.

Mr. Beril.
O, my Lord! that I love Lady Frances, is true;
Yet I could not avow it to her, or to you:
But to force my confession, such means you employ,
I almost may call them the torture of joy.
I'm o'erwhelm'd with surprize, with delight, and with dread,
Lest I falsely have heard the kind things you have said.
Speak! my dear Lady Frances, my anguish relieve!
Does this tumult of hope my wild fancy deceive?

Lady Frances.
I so long have my father's indulgence confest,
That against his decrees I shall never protest.

Mr. Beril.
O, how shall I thank thee, dear pride of my life!

Lord Seewell.
By cherishing still in the mind of your wife,
Such generous feelings as you have display'd.—
From my hand, my dear Beril, receive the kind maid!
Your statue is not more indebted to art,
Than she is to nature for molding her heart.
They both shall be yours; both the statue and bride!
And the wants of your friend shall no less be supply'd.—
Being free from one modish and wealth-wasting vice,
From those pests of our order, the turf and the dice,
I enjoy, my dear children, the fortunate power,
Of securing your bliss by an affluent dower.
Your quiet shall ne'er by your income be hurt,
Which shall equal your wish, tho' below your desert.

Mr. Beril.
Of your kindness, my Lord, I so feel the excess,
That my voice cannot speak what my heart would express.

Mr. Bijou.
I am charm'd, my dear Lord, by your choice of a son.

Lord Seewell.
I know, my old friend, you'll approve what I've done.
You and I, dear Bijou, wanting proper correction,
Have on vanity lavish'd the dues of affection.
We have both squander'd cash on too many a whim;
But in taste let us take a new lesson from him!
And rate our improvements in real Virtù,
By the generous acts he may teach us to do!
To remember this truth is the connoisseur's duty;
“A benevolent deed is the essence of beauty.”

Mr. Bijou.
I confess, I too oft have been vanity's fool;
But shall hope to grow wise, my good Lord, in your school.
And, as mirth should be coupled with wisdom, I'll go
And see if the fiddles are ready below.

[Exit.
Lord Seewell.
To-night, my dear Madam, you must not look grave;
Tho' Varnish has prov'd such an impudent knave,
I promise to make him your money refund.

Mrs. Bijou.
With surprize and vexation I almost was stunn'd;
But depending, my Lord, on your friendly assistance,
I am ready to drive all chagrin to a distance,
And to share in the joy of our dear happy guests.

Mr. Beril.
What I owe to you, Careless, this fair one attests:
And our sister, I hope, if I dare use the name,
From your friendship will judge of your love's ardent flame,
And, short'ning your rigorous term of probation,
Now fill your kind heart with complete exultation.

Lady Harriot.
The warm blaze of our joy, I assure you, dear brother,
With the cold damp of prudery I will not smother.
Your friend has for you play'd so feeling a part,
I confess, I am charm'd with his spirit and heart.
As in law and long courtship he likes not to drudge,
I will make him at once my comptroller and judge.

Careless.
I with transport and pride the dear office embrace!

Lord Seewell.
And long may you fill it with spirit and grace!—
My voice, my dear Careless, confirms her election;
And I give her with joy to your tender direction.
For sealing, dear Tom, you may fix your own day,
Without dreading from law any irksome delay,
As your father and I have, with friendly advances,
Already adjusted your nuptial finances.

Mr. Bijou
(entering.)
Our musicians below are all ready, my Lord:
Of pleasure you teach us to touch the true chord.
I've selected a few little pieces to-night,
That are suited, I hope, to the present delight—
May we all think this day the best day of our life!
It will prove so, I'm sure, both to me and my wife.
If a bargain should tempt us, we will not be rash,
But remember the Titian, and pocket our cash.
To Friendship and Want all we can we will give,
And buy no more baubles as long as we live.