University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—An apartment in Lord Transit's house.
LORD TRANSIT
reading a letter.
“I have appointed your afflicted wife
“To come to me this night at eight o'clock—
“If your heart feels compunction, meet her here,
“And take her pardon; take her to your arms,
“And let her intercession turn aside
“That wrath which Heav'n will else discharge upon you.”

“Clara Le Brun.”

Yes, Clara, I obey
Your anxious summons. Now I understand
Your promise, as I led you to your coach,
Of an appointment. All which then appear'd
Dark and equivocal, is bright and clear.
Why did I suffer my dishonest thoughts
To build unfair presumptions on the chance
That Gaming had expos'd you to seduction?
Virtue, I see, can take so bright a polish,
That e'en that dæmon's touch cannot defile it.

Servant enters.
SERVANT.
My lord, some gentlemen in company
With Mr. Fairford—

LORD TRANSIT.
I am not at home.

SERVANT.
I told him so; but he'll take no refusal.

LORD TRANSIT.
What is the hour?

SERVANT.
Just on the stroke of eight.
And see! he has follow'd me to the very door.
[Exit Servant.

Fairford enters, followed by Heartright and Codicil.
LORD TRANSIT.
Well, Mr. Fairford, since you won't be answer'd
By any apology, behold me present.

FAIRFORD.
You are the man I wanted to behold.
And here's your paper, that friend Heartright brought;—
A handsome recantation, I acknowledge—
All written with your own hand, is it not?

LORD TRANSIT.
It is my writing, and it was my paper.

FAIRFORD.
It was your paper—Right! It is mine now:
And in return for paper, there is parchment.
(pointing to the mortgage deed in Codicil's hand.)
That was your mortgage to old Gallishoff;
It came to me, and now it goes to you.
Take it, I've nothing more to do with it.
You've clear'd my daughter, I clear your estate.

LORD TRANSIT.
Hold, Mr. Fairford: 'tis not yet the time
That honour will allow me to receive it—
I beg you will release me.

FAIRFORD.
Heh! release you?
Egad, I rather think we shou'd confine you:
You're in a high delirium, a brain-fever.

LORD TRANSIT.
Well, be that as it may, I must decline it:
Imperious reasons force me to decline it.

FAIRFORD.
Imperious reasons! Let me tell you, sir,
I've reasons as imperious as yours can be,
Aye, and resentments too.

LORD TRANSIT.
I cannot help it.
Lady Le Brun invited me this evening
To meet my wife, and to receive my pardon.
My heart with joy embrac'd the blest occasion
To pour out all its penitence, its thanks,
Its hoarded transports of returning love,
And vow eternal truth in her dear arms;
When lo! with all my passions
Alive, and kindling fire in every vein,
You come, you cross me in the very hour,
The instant of my fate—'Sdeath! cou'd you offer
The wealth of worlds, I wou'd not stop to take it.

[Exit.
FAIRFORD.
Oho! that gives the case another colour:
Those are imperious reasons, I confess.
I'm not so angry now, nay I must own
My anger was for once in the wrong place.

HEARTRIGHT.
Every man's anger is in the wrong place.

FAIRFORD.
I'm satisfied; I'm calm; my heart's at rest.

CODICIL.
So is your mortgage—I may take this home.

FAIRFORD.
No, give it me.

CODICIL.
'Tis safer in my keeping;
Your pocket burns, my friend.

FAIRFORD.
Well, if it does;
Methinks I take the ready way to quench it.

CODICIL.
I don't care what you do. When you were poor,
I lik'd you most; and when you're poor again,
I shall not like you less. I only say,
Give to the worthy man, and you give well;
But give to every man for giving's sake,
When your whim's over, you will find yourself
With empty pockets in a thankless world.
[Exit Codicil.

HEARTRIGHT.
There's no great flattery to mankind in that;
But there's a plaguy deal of truth, I fear.

FAIRFORD.
Hear, and then judge. Amongst my dead wife's papers
I have discover'd letters that have pass'd
Betwixt this lord and her; and it appears
That in my absence, when the best of beings
(She for whose sake I wou'd have sluic'd my blood)
Was pincht by poverty, even to want
Of common necessaries—Oh my God! .......
Sir, I perceiv'd myself his lordship's debtor
For sums, not great perhaps in their amount,
But greatly, nobly, delicately giv'n,
Without parade or vaunting.—Now, by Heav'n!
I were a dog, not fit to feed on scraps,
If I cou'd hold a claim upon his purse,
Though thousands hung to it, whose hand was open
To the necessities of that dear saint
When cruel want oppress'd her.—Am I right?

HEARTRIGHT.
I think you are, and do believe you'll find,
When every heart is search'd, you have been right.
Let us withdraw.

FAIRFORD.
Aye, aye; we'll give them time
For reconcilement, and then share their joys.

[Exeunt.