University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Enter Mrs. Felix and Selina.
Mrs. Felix.
Well, my dear, what d'ye think of our medical Friend
Whom the letters of Felix so highly commend?
If my gratitude does not my judgment mislead,
He's the man in the world who with you might succeed:
Tho' gentle, yet manly, tho' bashful, polite.
Are you not half in love?—

Selina.
Yes, indeed, at first sight!—
His service to you on my heart is engrav'd,
And I love him, I own, for the life he has sav'd.
To win me perhaps he might not find it hard,
So esteem'd as he is by the friends I regard;
But I fancy such thoughts will not enter his brain:
And for my part, instead of attracting a Swain,
I only shall think, as they heartily vex me,
Of escaping from those who already perplex me.

Mrs. Felix.
O make yourself easy, I pray, on that head;
In the deepest disgrace the poor Poet is fled,
And I trust that the Critic will soon share his fate.
Come with me—I've a most curious tale to relate.
Let us haste—I perceive that Decisive is near,
In whose present discourse I would not interfere.

[Exeunt.
Enter Decisive and Morley.
Decisive.
So while in the grove I was cooly projecting
New plans for the temple the Knight is erecting,
Our Poet, addicted to amorous sin,
Grew a little too fond of the Ladies within:
But discovery happen'd his passion to damp;
And this is the cause of his haste to decamp.

Morley.
The old Knight, I believe, such resentment express'd
As quicken'd the speed of his fugitive guest;
On Terror's swift wing he is certainly flown,
And as he has retreated, the field is your own.

Decisive.
As a rival I had not much fear of poor Sapphic;
Bad rhyme's current coin in most amorous traffic,
But would not pass here.

Morley.
I think not in your view,
As it finds such a critical touchstone in you.
The Poet's dismission your triumph ensures,
And the prize, my good Friend, is now certainly yours;
A prize, that we justly may call very great,
A lovely sweet Girl with a noble estate.

Decisive.
The Girl's very well, but knows nothing of life;
It will cost me some pains to new model my Wife;
But I think she will gladly receive my correction,
And my wealthy old Kinsman approves the connection.

(Coughs.)
Morley.
You've a cough, my good Friend,

Decisive.
Yes, a trifling one: Hem!
Have you got any Indian prescription for phlegm?

Morley.
Believe me, that cough is no trifling affair;
It calls, I assure you, for caution and care.
With regret I point out so unpleasant a truth,
But your constitution I've known from your youth;
Your hectic appearance I see with concern,
As I know, with your frame if health takes such a turn,
The least indiscretion your life may destroy.
The slightest excess in diversion and joy;
Even those tender cares, which on life's purest plan
Must belong to the state of a Family Man,
May lead to disease from which art cannot save,
And rapidly hurry you into the grave.
'Twere better this courtship of yours should miscarry,
For you'll certainly die in six months if you marry.

Decisive.
Are you serious, dear Doctor?

Morley.
By such a sad end
I lately have lost a poor good-humour'd friend.
You remember Jack Dangle at College, no doubt;
He was just of your age, and a little more stout;
He, with other young sages, left Westminster Hall
To teach English law to the slaves of Bengal.
But Jack, in his new chamber-practice at least,
Too eagerly follow'd the rules of the East.
A bad cough ensu'd, much like yours in its sound—
(Decisive coughs.)
Good God! I could swear 'twas poor Jack under ground,
'Tis his tone so exactly, sepulchral and hollow!
The system he slighted I hope you will follow.
With pains in his breast he was sharply tormented;
But as he at first to my guidance consented,
Some time my strict regimen kept him alive,
Poor Dangle once more was beginning to thrive;
And had he some months in my plan persever'd,
On the earth at this moment he might have appear'd;
But chance threw a pretty white girl in his way,
And eager for marriage, fond Jack would not stay:
In vain I conjur'd him to wait half a year,
And shew'd him the danger he ran very clear.
He thought the remains of his cough but a trifle,
And being unable his passion to stifle,
He took his fair wife;—but, alas! the vile cough
Encreas'd every day till it carried him off!

Decisive.
I don't recollect any pain in my breast,
But I feel a strange tightness just now in my chest.

Morley.
How's your stomach?

Decisive.
I've nothing to fear on that score.

Morley.
Do you eat as you did?

Decisive.
Yes, I think rather more.

Morley.
That ravenous hunger's the thing that I dread.
How d'ye sleep?

Decisive.
All the time that I pass in my bed.

Morley.
Indeed!—I don't like so lethargic a slumber.

Decisive.
Why! my Friend! of good symptoms these rank in the number.

Morley.
Alas! you may call them all good if you please,
By that title you only confirm your disease,
In which, tho' the patient declines very fast,
He for ever will flatter himself to the last.
Believe me, your symptoms are rather alarming,
Yet your present disorder there is not much harm in.
If you can but abstain, with a spirit resign'd,
From all that may harrass your body or mind,
To a different climate I wish you'd repair,
And for one Winter breathe a less changeable air.
Spend a Christmas at Naples, and when you return
You may marry without any anxious concern.
But you're now at that critical period of life
When, in such frames as yours, nature feels an odd strife,
And, if quiet does not all her functions befriend,
The short earthly scene on a sudden will end.
On a point so important you'll pardon my freedom.

Decisive.
Your cautions oblige me, I feel that I need 'em,
For in truth I am growing as thin as a rabbit,
And there's something consumptive I know in my habit.
My Father died soon after taking a Wife,
And cough'd out his soul when I jump'd into life:
I suppose I am going.

Morley.
Take courage, my Friend;
On your own prudent conduct your life will depend.
If you take but due care for two years, I'll engage
You will stand a fair chance for a healthy old age.
Nor would I advise you this Girl to refuse,
A distant attachment your mind will amuse;
And, no doubt, for a man of your fortune and figure
She will wait till your health has recover'd its vigour.

Decisive.
I can part with the Girl without feeling a chasm
In my heart; that will shake with no amorous spasm;
For, to tell you the truth, my old rich Uncle Cob
Is more eager than I for this marrying job.
By this scheme the old Blade is supremely delighted,
Because two large manors may thus be united:
But when of his park I've extended the bound,
It will do me small good if I sink under ground;
And I'm not such a fool in these projects of pelf,
To humour my friends and endanger myself.

Morley.
Indeed I'd not wed for an old Uncle's whim;
But here comes our Knight, I shall leave you with him,
As I think you've some delicate points to adjust.

[Exit.
Decisive
, alone.
I'm in no haste to sleep with my Ancestors' dust.
'Tis wiser my weak constitution to save,
Than to marry, and so travel post to the grave.

Enter Sir Nicholas.
Sir Nicholas.
Come, give me your hand, and rejoice, my young Neighbour,
You're the man that's to order the pipe and the tabor;
And by Jove we'll all dance on so joyous a day;
Your wedding, dear Dick, shall be speedy and gay;
For your Rival is gone with our serious displeasure,
And I give to your wishes my young lovely Treasure.—
A treasure she is, tho' the Girl is my Niece;
Heaven grant ye long years of affection and peace!
And a fine chopping Boy ere the end of the first—
Remember that I am to see the rogue nurs'd.
Go, you happy young dog, go and seal with a kiss,
And teach the old hall to re-echoe your bliss.
As I know on this match what Sir Jacob intends,
And we can so well trust each other as friends,
Short contracts will answer as well as the best,
Our lawyers at leisure may finish the rest.
I know all suspence in such cases is hard,
And you shall not, I swear, from your bliss be debar'd,
While o'er acres of parchment they're crawling like snails.

Decisive.
Dear Sir, upon weighing in Reason's just scales
Your very great favours and my weak pretension,
I find I'm unworthy of such condescension,
And must, with regret, the high honour resign,
Which I once vainly thought might with justice be mine.

Sir Nicholas.
Hey-day! what does all this formality mean?
Why, Dick! has the Devil possess'd you with spleen?
Or has Love made your mind thus with diffidence sore?
False modesty ne'er was your foible before.
You think you're unworthy!—the thought is so new,
That I hardly can tell what to say or to do.
If you love the good Girl full as much as you said,
I think you have very just claims to her bed;
But if your mind's chang'd, and you feel your love lighter,
'Tis better to say so, than marry and slight her:
And if this be the case, Sir, you have your release;
For altho' I am eager to marry my Niece,
Tho' I'm partial to you, yet I beg you to note,
That I don't want to cram her down any man's throat.

Decisive.
I'm truly convinc'd of the Lady's perfection,
And 'twould please me, dear Sir, to preserve the connection,
Tho' now, by particular reasons, I'm led
To revisit the Continent once ere I wed.
In the time of my absence I can't be exact;
But in what form you please I will freely contract,
In the course of two years to receive as my Wife—

Sir Nicholas.
Do you mean to insult me, you Puppy? Od's-life!
Ere I'd tie my dear Girl to so silly a Fop
For life, I'd condemn her to trundle a mop.
And let me advise you, young man, for the future,
To know your own mind ere you go as a suitor.

Decisive.
I perceive, Sir, my presence grows irksome to you,
And you'll therefore allow me to bid you adieu.

Sir Nicholas.
Your departure, indeed, I don't wish to restrain,
And have little concern when I see you again.

[Exit Decisive.
Sir Nicholas
alone.
What can make this pert Puppy recede from his suit?
My fair Cousin and he have scarce had a dispute;
She would hardly affront him on purpose to vex me!—
Here she comes to explain all the points that perplex me.

Enter Mrs. Felix.
Well, Cousin, my scheme for a wedding's suspended,
The Beaux are both gone, and their courtship is ended;
With an air so mysterious Decisive withdraws,
I a little suspect you're concern'd as the cause:
Confess, have you had any words with this Youth?

Mrs. Felix.
Not I, my dear Sir, on my honour and truth.
But I'm ready to own that the news you impart,
With surprize and with pleasure enlivens my heart.
I think your sweet Niece has a lucky escape:
I would almost as soon see her marry an ape
As her union with one of these Coxcombs behold;
The Bard is too warm, and the Critic too cold.

Sir Nicholas.
I find that they are not such Lads as I thought 'em;
The World all the worst of its fashions has taught 'em:
And the World is indeed at a very fine pass,
When such Puppies insult so attractive a Lass.
Young Fellows of fortune now think it hard duty
To pay a chaste homage to Virtue and Beauty.
But I'll leave these pert Fops to their own vile caprice,
And soon find a much fitter match for my Niece.
Other orders of men for a husband I'll search,
And I think I can settle my Girl in the Church.

Mrs. Felix.
Lord, Cousin! I thought you detested the Cloth!

Sir Nicholas.
Our Rector, I own, often kindles my wrath;
But all Parsons are not like my neighbour, old Squabble,
Who has learnt from his geese both to hiss and to gobble.
We have in our neighbourhood three young Divines,
And each, I believe, to Selina inclines.
Our Bishop's smart Nephew deserves a sweet Wench,
He himself in due time may be rais'd to the Bench;
With him I should like very well to unite her;
And if he hereafter should rise to the Mitre,
Then perhaps we together may bring to perfection
A much-wanted plan for the Church's correction.

Mrs. Felix.
A very fine scheme which you'll manage, no doubt!

Sir Nicholas.
More wonderful things I have known brought about;
And tho' my first plan, as you see, has miscarried,
I'm resolv'd that my Niece shall be speedily married.
I'll unite the good Girl to a Priest, if I'm able;
For the young Olive Branch never fails at his table.
There is one I prefer—but to leave the Girl free,
I allow her to make a fair choice of the Three:
I shall therefore invite the whole group to the hall,
And I'll now go and make her write cards to them all.

[Exit.
Mrs. Felix
alone.
What a wonderful creature is this worthy Knight!
To make others happy is all his delight!
Yet, misled by some wild philanthropic illusion,
He's for ever involv'd in odd scenes of confusion.
'Tis well that our Critic has made his last bow,
I rejoice he's remov'd, and I long to know how.

Enter Morley.
Morley.
Thank my stars, my dear Ma'am, I've dispatch'd your commission;
Your sweet Friend is, I hope, in a tranquil condition:
From her two irksome Lovers she now is reliev'd.

Mrs. Felix.
And I'm dying to know how all this was atchiev'd.
Come tell me, good Creature, how could you effect it?

Morley.
By a project so simple you'd never suspect it:
I have banish'd both Swains, by declaring a Wife
Would rob one of glory, and t'other of life.
I persuaded the Bard his poetical fame
Could never exist with a conjugal flame:
Hence he grew with your charms so licentiously free,
But forgive me this ill which I could not foresee.
Decisive, more wisely, abandons the Fair
To make his own lungs his particular care.

Mrs. Felix.
What! on such points as these have they taken your word?

Morley.
Dear Madam! mankind credit things most absurd,
When the come from the mouth of a medical man;
Hence Mountebanks never want skill to trepan.
The extent of our empire indeed there's no seeing,
When we act on the fears of a true selfish being.

Mrs. Felix.
How simple soever the means you've employ'd,
You have remedy'd ills by which we were annoy'd.
Having thus clear'd the scene from each troublesome Lover,
Can you not for the Nymph a fit Husband discover?
You see how she's prest by her Uncle to wed,
Who ne'er quits a scheme he once takes in his head.—
Suppose her kind fancy should lean towards you,
Is your heart quite as free as I'm sure 'twould be true?
Is it not pre-engag'd?

Morley.
As in mirth's sportive sally
It pleases you thus a poor pilgrim to rally,
Your good nature I know will forgive me if I
To your pleasantry make a too serious reply.
'Tis my maxim to speak, whatsoe'er be the theme,
With a heart undisguis'd to the friends I esteem:
Had I all India's wealth, 'twould be my inclination
To offer it all to your lovely Relation.
But supposing it possible you could be willing
To unite her with one who is scarce worth a shilling;
Believe me, dear Madam, my pride is too great
To wish her to stoop to my humble estate.

Mrs. Felix.
Such pride, tho' it rests upon no strong foundation,
Is noble, I own, and deserves admiration.
I call it ill-founded, because, in my mind,
If there's fortune enough for a couple when join'd,
If talents and worth are by each duly shar'd,
If in all other points they are equally pair'd,
And mutual regard mutual merit enhances,
It signifies not which supply'd their finances.

Morley.
Your pardon—how often when fortune's unequal,
Gay weddings produce a most turbulent sequel?
But could I once hope your sweet Cousin to gain,
How many things are there such hopes to restrain?
Suppose your dear Colonel, my most noble Friend,
Whom success to your arms may more speedily send!
Suppose, having clos'd the bright work he has plan'd,
His return from the East he should hasten by land;
Suppose him arriv'd, with what face could I meet
The man whom my heart should exultingly greet,
If he found me attempting, in spite of my station,
To wed, tho' a beggar, your wealthy Relation?

Mrs. Felix.
From these words, my dear Friend, which I almost adore,
And a few slighter hints that escap'd you before,
I have caught a quick hope, which is fraught with delight,
That I soon shall be blest with my Felix's sight:
I begin to suspect he's in England already;
I perceive that you can't keep your countenance steady.
With his usual attention his love has reflected
How my poor foolish nerves by surprise are affected;
And lest they should fail me beyond all revival,
Has sent you to prepare for his wish'd-for arrival.
Am I right in my guess? Is he not very near?
Could I trust my own heart, I should think Felix here.

Colonel Felix
, entering.
Sweet Foreboder, behold him restor'd to your arms.

Mrs. Felix.
O my Felix! this transport o'erpays all alarms,
Thus to see thee restor'd, and ennobled with fame!
In what words shall affection thy welcome proclaim?

Colonel.
My Love! my best Treasure! than glory more dear!
The bliss of this meeting, which shines in thy tear,
That we owe to this Friend let us never forget.

Morley.
My share in your transport o'erpays all the debt.—
But, Colonel, your fondness has travell'd full speed,
And has not allow'd me the time you agreed.

Colonel.
I meant not, indeed, to have join'd you to-day,
But I found Love forbade my intended delay.

Morley.
Well, my duty is done, now you happily meet;
Heaven bless you together—

Mrs. Felix.
Stay, stay, I entreat;
You must not go yet; and before you depart
I will open to Felix the scheme of my heart.

Selina
(behind the scene.)
Indeed, Sir, I never can write such a card.

Sir Nicholas
(behind the scene.)
Then you'll forfeit at once my paternal regard!

Colonel.
Hey-day! in the house I much fear something's wrong,
As Sir Nicholas talks in a language so strong.

Mrs. Felix.
Does he know you are here?

Colonel.
No, my Dear, I think not,
Unless he the tidings from Jenny has got;
She alone saw me come, and without much ado
Most kindly directed me where to find you.

Mrs. Felix.
They are coming this way—let's withdraw all together,
And contrive how to turn this loud storm to fair weather.

[Exeunt.
Enter Sir Nicholas and Selina.
Sir Nicholas.
I insist on your writing such cards to them all!

Selina.
Dear Uncle, I beg you'll this order recall.
You know your commands I much wish to obey;
But reflect on this matter what people will say:
You're so eager to marry your Niece, they will swear,
That you hawk her about just like goods at a fair.

Sir Nicholas.
Well, my Dear, let 'em say so, and I'll say so too,
For your simile proves what a Guardian should do.
He who wants to dispose of a tender young maid,
May take a good hint from the gingerbread trade:
If he has any sense, 'twill be ever his plan
To part with soft pastry as soon as he can;
For egad an old maid is like old harden'd paste,
You may cry it about, but nobody will taste.
Come, do as I bid you, and take up your pen.

Selina.
Lord, Sir! it will seem very odd to these men;
You will make me appear in a horrible light;
I vow my hand shakes so, I never can write.
Excuse me, dear Sir, from this business, pray do,
And let me live single for ever with you.

Sir Nicholas.
All business where woman's concern'd, I believe,
Must partake of the curse from our Grandmother Eve.
All her Daughters the steps of their Parent have follow'd!
Contradiction, the core of the apple she swallow'd,
In their veins still fermenting new ills can produce,
And all their blood seems Coloquintida juice.—
You froward cross Baggage! your word should I take,
And bid you live single five years for my sake,
Of the barbarous Uncle you'd quickly complain,
Who from Nature's just right a young Girl wou'd restrain!

Selina.
Indeed, Sir, I should not.

Sir Nicholas.
I tell you you wou'd.
From perverseness alone you oppose your own good.
'Tis only to thwart me, because I desire
To see you well settled before I expire,
That you now with your soft hypocritical carriage,
Affect to have no inclination to marriage.
But you'll never contrive, tho' your tongue may be nimble,
To convince me your heart is as cold as your thimble.
I know of what stuff froward damsels are made,
The Guardian must force you who cannot persuade.
That you'll like a good husband, I never can doubt;
And married you shall be before the month's out,
Or at least your kind Uncle no more you shall teaze,
But may e'en go to Rome and turn Nun if you please.

Selina
(aside.)
I have lost all the love he has shewn me for years;
If I strive to reply I shall burst into tears.

Sir Nicholas.
Come, answer me, Miss! will you scribble or not?

Enter the Colonel, Mrs. Felix, and Morley.
Colonel.
My worthy old Friend, what can make you so hot?

Sir Nicholas.
Ha, Colonel!—you find me a little concern'd—
But I'm heartily glad you are safely return'd.
Your arrival indeed is a welcome surprize,
Tho' before you your fame a bright harbinger flies;
We have heard your success, and we all triumph in it.

Colonel.
I trust I am come in a fortunate minute
To make all your present embarrassment cease,
For I bring a young Husband, my Friend, for your Niece.

Sir Nicholas.
Egad that's well said; and I'm sure it's well meant;
And if he's like you he shall have my consent.

Colonel.
He has many more virtues, and just as much wealth,
And from India brings home both his morals and health.
Here, my Friend, is the Man.—As I owe him my life,
I wish to present him so lovely a Wife;
Half my fortune is his—here I freely declare it,
And have only to hope that Selina may share it.
I've regarded her long as a child of my own;
Nor can my affection more truly be shown,
Than by wishing to place the dear Girl in the arms
Of the friend whose rare virtues are worthy her charms.

Morley.
Dear generous Felix, I'm quite overcome,
Thy Bounty is such, it strikes Gratitude dumb!

Colonel.
This was ever, my Friend, my most settled intention,
Though my very just purpose I chose not to mention,
From the hope I should find, what I gladly embrace,
A moment from which it may borrow some grace,
When my gift its plain value may rise far above,
By the aid it affords to the wishes of Love;
And I own, as a prophet I'm proud of my art,
Now I see the effects of her charms on your heart.

Morley.
O Felix! can I thus deprive thy free spirit
Of wealth, the reward of heroical merit?
Can I the victorious Commander despoil
Of what he has purchas'd with danger and toil?
Should love and delight on thy present attend,
I could never be happy in robbing a Friend.
No, I still must decline—

Sir Nicholas.
My dear Boy, say no more;
You're the match that I never could meet with before.
I have long sought in vain for an heir to my mind,
But all my soul wish'd, in your spirit I find.
You shall not rob your Friend of a single Gold Moor,
He can raise heirs enough to inherit his store:
To such men as himself let him haste to give birth,
And with twenty young Felix's garnish the earth.
How trifling soever your fortune may be,
From the Colonel's esteem, and the virtues I see,
I think you as noble a match for my Niece,
As I could, had you brought home a new golden fleece:
I have money enough, if you're rich in affection.—
As I always have talk'd of an equal connection,
My neighbours, perhaps, may suppose my sight dim,
Or mock my wise choice as a generous whim:
Let them study with zeal, which I hope may succeed,
Of their horses and dogs to improve the best breed;
A study more noble engrosses my mind,
To preserve the first points in the breed of mankind:
On the heart and the soul, as the first points, I dwell,
In these, my dear Children, you match mighty well;
And I think human nature in debt to my care,
For uniting two mortals who happily pair.

Colonel.
Your hand, my dear Knight, it is gloriously said!

Sir Nicholas.
By Juno we'll put the young Couple to bed!
We'll have no dull delays.—

Mrs. Felix.
Now what say you, my Dear,
Are these orders for marriage too quick and severe?

Morley.
My amazement and gratitude both are extreme,
But my voice seems opprest in a heavenly dream;
Though your kindness is greater than language can paint,
I beg this fair hand may be free from constraint.

Sir Nicholas.
From constraint!—Gad, if now she affects to demur,
I can tell her my wrath she will so far incur,
She shall go to a convent for life, or at least
Be sent as a venture herself to the East.

Selina.
My Uncle I long have obey'd, and at present
I cannot complain his commands are unpleasant:
Nay more; could he place all mankind in my view,
And bid me chuse from them, my choice would be you.

Morley.
To this dear declaration my life must reply,
All words are too weak—

Sir Nicholas.
The whole earth I defy,
To shew me a scene more delightful than this;
Dear honest frank Girl, come and give me a kiss;
Thou'rt the creature of Nature much more than of Art,
And I own thee again as the Child of my heart.

Jonathan
, entering and speaking to the Colonel.
There are two chests for you, Sir, just come to the hall.

Colonel.
A few Indian things for the Ladies—that's all.
Pray, Jonathan, pay those who brought them with this.

(giving money.)
Morley.
My brave lad must share in our general bliss.
Here, Jonathan, if you're to marriage inclin'd,
And can luckily meet with a girl to your mind,
You may marry and settle, as soon as you please;
The Colonel has taken good care of your ease.

Jonathan.
God bless him, whate'er he is pleas'd to bestow!
I think I have found a kind sweetheart below.

Mrs. Felix.
He has made choice of Jenny;—and I will provide
A fortune, my Friend, for your good-humour'd Bride.

Sir Nicholas.
Egad, they shall have my new farm on the hill,
And raise young recruits there as fast as they will.

Jonathan.
Heaven prosper you all! I will pray for you ever,
And to serve my King still, as I can, I'll endeavour.

[Exit.
Sir Nicholas.
Well said, honest Soldier;—we'll have no delay,
Go and tell the old Parson to keep in the way.

Colonel.
Come with me, fair Cousin, examine my chests;
I long to present you a few bridal vests.

Mrs. Felix
, to Morley.
As we view with delight the events of to-day,
A fair lesson, my Friend, in your fate we survey;
While, from love to an aged fond parent, with speed
From wealth's open road you most kindly recede,
Heaven sends you that fortune you nobly have slighted,
And your warm filial piety here is requited;
This bright moral truth by your lot is exprest,
“They who seek others' bliss, are by Providence blest.”

Sir Nicholas
, to Morley.
Here, my worthy young Friend, take and cherish this Fair,
And, trust me, you'll find her deserving your care;
For although of her sex she may have a small spice,
She'll please you ten times where she vexes you twice;
And happy the man, in this skirmishing life,
Who is able to say half as much of his Wife.