University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

Miss Jasper and Gerrard.
Miss Jasper.
Pray watch for my brother, and bring him to me,
And let no one, good Gerrard, my visitor see:
On your faithful prudence I solely rely;
We're undone if our guests should his person espy:
From all but ourselves we must keep him unknown;
And, if seen, he must pass for a friend of your own.
I depend on your prudence.

Gerrard.
Dear Miss, never fear;
To do him any good I would watch for a year:
Heaven knows, I have pray'd for him early and late,
Since the old lawyer robb'd him of this fine estate;
And would give all I'm worth could I get him his due.

Miss Jasper.
Honest Gerrard! I know we've a good friend in you:
But look out for my brother—he'll want your assistance.

Gerrard.
I think I shall know him at half a mile's distance.

Miss Jasper.
He'll be here ere you stir—prithee run to the gate.

Gerrard.
Dear Miss, you forget; I am past sixty-eight;
But I'll make all the haste that I can, for your sake,
And I'll pray for you both at each step that I take.

[Exit.
Miss Jasper.
That's a worthy old creature, though rather too slow;
He is trusty, and will not betray us, I know:
But though he's secure, I still shudder to think
How my hopes in a moment to nothing may sink.
As the crisis comes on, in a hazardous scheme,
With what infinite terrors the fancy will teem!—
In my hopes of the match I was sanguine and hearty;
But I now have my fears in regard to each party.
Should my Gentleman turn out too squeamish and coy,
How vain the kind art I have deign'd to employ!
Should my Lady shew family-pride, at this season,
I've depended in vain upon Nature and Reason.
I have studied her well, and I clearly descry
She's destin'd again to the conjugal tie:
In spite of the whims false refinement has taught her,
She is honest dame Nature's benevolent daughter:
Though a truly good creature, in virtue so strong
She would not for the world do a thing she thinks wrong,
Yet of such yielding wax her soft bosom is form'd,
It will melt in a moment, if properly warm'd;
Provided her fancy, affectedly nice,
Can delude her kind heart with some dainty device,
Some delicate plea for becoming a wife
To the youth, who conjures her to bless him for life.
On this I have founded my whimsical plan,
In hopes of producing this fortunate man:
My brother, I know, has a passion for her;
And she soon to all men would his person prefer.
But in my rapid project he will not be steady,
Unless I persuade him she loves him already;
For men rarely know, though of knowledge they're vain,
By a well-manag'd minute how much they may gain.
And should he detect the kind art I employ,
Farewell to my hopes of their conjugal joy!—
I yesterday, thought that my plan could not fail;
Now I think 'twill be marvellous should it prevail.—
But away, cruel fears! hence, ye painful alarms!
I behold my dear brother restor'd to my arms!

Enter Jasper.
Jasper.
Heaven bless thee, dear girl!—you have got me once more,
In spite of my vow not to visit this shore;
And I joyfully fly, with affection's quick pace,
To enfold thy kind heart in a brother's embrace:
With that in my grasp, I true opulence feel,
And my wealth in this casket no lawyer can steal.

Miss Jasper.
If love and esteem may be reckon'd as treasure,
You indeed, my dear brother, are rich above measure!
O how have I long'd all your feelings to learn!
How ardently pray'd for your speedy return!
How often accus'd your indignant delay!
What a million of things had I ready to say!
What questions to ask!—and yet now you are come,
The confusion of joy has almost made me dumb!

Jasper.
My tender, good girl!—I perceive you retain
All your lively sensations of pleasure and pain.—
But these tears will relieve you—don't check them, my dear;
'Tis a tribute my heart is inclin'd to revere;
All flattering language I prize them above,
And hold them the truest expression of love:
And indeed, when I think what distress and regret
Have harrass'd your sensible mind since we met;
When I think how, from sordid self-interest free,
You forget your own wrongs in attention to me;
I feel tears of gratitude ready to start,
And confess my dear sister the pride of my heart!

Miss Jasper.
Yet, for life, you could talk of deserting this sister!

Jasper.
But you see, when she pleaded I could not resist her.—
When I first was inform'd of old Vellum's vile fraud,
In my rage I determin'd on living abroad:
For Russia, you know, I departed from Rome;
However, my dear, you may safely presume
Such an absence from you I could never endure,
Had you not brought me back by a different lure;
And my friends of the Law with your wishes conspir'd,
To make me return with the haste you desir'd,
As they give me some hopes of soon changing our fate,
And regaining from Vellum the pilfer'd estate.—
But how fares my dear widow? whose partial affection
Seems kindled by some friendly angel's direction,
To redress half our wrongs, and defeat the old thief,
Who impos'd on Sir Simon's too simple belief.
A rascal! to feign a regard for my fame,
And steal my estate, not to injure my name.
I thought not my cousin so easy a fool;
How the deuce could old Vellum so make him his tool
For the Knight, on this plea, sign'd his will when in health,
Not to spoil a great artist by giving me wealth.—
But where's my kind widow?—I long to express—

Miss Jasper.
You must pardon a little demureness in dress,
Nor expect her, though you to all men she prefers,
To fly into your arms.

Jasper.
No; let me fly to her's.

Miss Jasper.
Not so fast, my dear brother; you surely forget
By what vigilant enemies we are beset!
Should Vellum, whose spies are now under this roof,
And against whose vile art no affection is proof,
Should he get the least hint of my Lady's attachment,
He would rage like the wolf in that new-painted hatchment;
Your mutual regard he would set at defiance,
And move earth and hell to prevent your alliance.

Jasper.
Would he so?—By my faith, as the widow's so kind,
I care not what mischiefs may lurk in his mind;
Not a legion of imps, by a lawyer instructed,
Shall mar the sweet business her heart has conducted.—
But has she quite hid her connubial design?
Has the rogue no surmise she will shortly be mine?

Miss Jasper.
No, not any.

Jasper.
Well manag'd, my dear fairy elf!

Miss Jasper.
To say truth, 'tis a secret not known to herself.

Jasper.
To herself!—am I dup'd then?

Miss Jasper.
Dear brother, be cool.

Jasper.
Have you sent for me home, but to make me a fool?

Miss Jasper.
No indeed! but to make you most happy for life,
And give you a lovely and excellent wife;
In so serious a point could you think that I jested?—
Have you purchas'd the licence my letter requested?

Jasper.
Here it is—and our folly will finely expose,
If the fair one escapes whom this chain should inclose.

Miss Jasper.
Implicitly trust to my care as your guide,
And ere midnight, perhaps, you may clasp a kind bride.

Jasper.
You teaze me, dear girl! with much whimsical pain;
But I beg that you'll clearly these riddles explain.
I fear you have form'd some nonsensical plot:
Has the Widow declar'd she will have me, or not?

Miss Jasper.
Dear brother! indulge me with patient attention,
And our true situation I'll honestly mention:
But, however my project may strike you at first,
Into rage and despair do not hastily burst;
To be bold in such points is, in truth, to be wise,
And a widow's a fort to be won by surprize.

Jasper.
So she has not engag'd, then, to give me her hand?

Miss Jasper.
Have patience!—her state you shall soon understand.
That she loves you, I know; and with innocent art
I have cherish'd the passion still hid in her heart:
For she fancies, good creature! that, safe from love's flashes,
She's devoted for life to Sir Simon's cold ashes.—
You know, she affects to be highly refin'd:
And a project I've built on this cast of her mind,
Which, if you'll obey me, I'll venture my life,
Like a stroke of true magic, will make her your wife,
And before any soul can suspect our intention.

Jasper.
Well, my girl! and pray what is your magic invention?

Miss Jasper.
You must know, she believes that you only return
To oblige her, by gracing Sir Simon's rich urn:
She thinks the Czarina, on this one condition,
That you travel incog. gives you her kind permission;
And her Ladyship's mind I have fill'd with these notions,
As they form an excuse for concealing your motions:
So she hopes from your hand, with the highest delight,
To behold a fine statue of her noble Knight.
Now, Sir Simon and you have been thought much alike;
And, to make the resemblance more forcibly strike,
I mean to array you, her heart to entrap,
In his blue sattin night-gown and red velvet cap;
The dress which, to humour his elegant Fair,
The courteous old Cit was contented to wear.

Jasper.
And is this your fine plan! you impertinent jade?
Dress me up as the Punch of a dull masquerade!

Miss Jasper.
Have patience!—my scheme must surprize you, no doubt,
Yet I think you'll applaud, if you hear it throughout;
And if you have spirit I know 'twill succeed.

Jasper.
To play the dead man—a fine project, indeed!

Miss Jasper.
Nay, but hear me!—your actions I will not controul.

Jasper.
Well, you've made me an idiot; so tell me the whole.

Miss Jasper.
No! I've taught you to make yourself all you desire,
If you will but restrain this intemperate fire.—
Come, attend to my plot:—You fond creatures shall meet
In the new Mausoleum, that pensive retreat;
On a pedestal there you your person must place,
To shew how a statue the building may grace:
To behold you so fixt I'll my Lady prepare:
She'll be struck in surveying your figure and air;
She with tender surprize will your features review,
And fancy she sees her Sir Simon in you:
Then spring from your pedestal, seize her sweet charms,
And swear, as you fold her soft heart in your arms,
You are like her Sir Simon in soul as in form,
That your heart towards her is as tenderly warm;
You may add—in a vision he bade you direct her
To take you for life as her legal protector,
And, to make her chaste love to his memory known,
Chuse his living resemblance before one of stone.—
There's a promising scheme for a widow's relief!

Jasper.
Set woman to woman, as thief to catch thief!—
I confess in your plot there is spirit and soul;
On her governing foible you've grounded the whole;
And rapid success might attend on your plan,
But for puppet-shew courtship I am not the man:
I possess not the face that your stratagem needs,
For so bold an attack on a widow in weeds;
And I feel some reluctance, in truth, at my heart,
To such an appearance of fraudulent art.

Miss Jasper.
Away, my dear brother, with scruples like these!
Of the amorous heart doubt's a common disease,
But one that my counsels may speedily cure:
You both love each other—your meaning is pure—
The gentle Sophia you'll tenderly treat,
Her form is enchanting, her temper is sweet;
And if your odd courtship appears like a jest,
In your marriage, I'm sure, you'll be equally blest:
Without it, indeed, our fair friend is undone,
For old Vellum intends that the coxcomb his son,
When he comes from his travels—But somebody's near;
A sudden surprize in this quarter I fear,
Let us haste to my room—I must school you above:
And you'll act as I wish if you've one spark of love.
If I find you have not—I shall honestly say,
You must give up the part that I meant you to play.

[Exeunt hastily.
Enter Lady Sophia with Papers in her hand, attended by Carey.
Lady Sophia.
Unfold the great doors of the sable saloon.
[The Scene opens, and discovers a large Apartment, with a black velvet Pavilion.]
At the thoughts of this business I'm ready to swoon!
But you, my good Carey, will lessen my pain,
And aid my weak nerves the sad scene to sustain;
As my Gentleman-usher you'll kindly attend,
And bring the three Bards to an audience, my friend:
I shall sit to receive them beneath my pavilion.
To repay their sweet verse I could wish for a million;
But I think that each Bard will be pleas'd with his lot:
So bring them—Stay, Carey, one thing I've forgot;
But now 'tis too late for my purpose, I fear;
I meant to have order'd the horns to be here,
With a little soft music these rites to begin,
And to sound a dead march as the Poets walk in.

Carey.
Dear Madam, their verses will want no such aid;
Let me haste to present them.—Fantastical jade!

[Aside, as he goes out.
Lady Sophia,
(seating herself under the Pavilion, and looking over the Papers in her hand).
From these epitaphs, thus, I may happily borrow
The parts that most flatter my delicate sorrow;
And while in one piece I harmoniously blend
Four lines from each poem these authors have penn'd,
I am pleas'd that on them no vexation can fall,
That I shall not hurt one, and must gratify all.—
But the Geniuses come.

Enter Carey, introducing Rumble, Facil, and Trope, who advance with profound Bows towards the Pavilion.
Lady Sophia.
Ye kind friends to my grief!
Who employ your fine parts in affliction's relief;
My mournful distress by your talents ye calm,
And my dear lost Sir Simon your verses embalm.
As I ought, let me first Mr. Rumble address:
What I owe to you, Sir, I can never express,
Yet the force of your pen let my gratitude mention.

Rumble
(aside).
I perceive she has sense—and I'm sure of the pension!

Lady Sophia.
In my choice I have done equal justice, I hope,
To you, Mr. Facil—and you, Mr. Trope:
From your various productions twelve verses I chuse,
And I blend the rich sweets of each different Muse;
Thus a wreath is completed to deck the dear shrine,
And to honor Sir Simon three Poets combine.
Here you'll see how I've manag'd this nice combination.

[Distributing a Paper to each.
Rumble.
I protest I can't suffer this conglomeration
Of marble and brick! this anomalous jumble!

Carey
(in a whisper to Rumble).
Remember the pension, my good Mr. Rumble!

Rumble.
Sir! my admurmurations shall loudly be heard;
I've a right to exclaim that my Lady's absur'd:
In her cap she as well might conquassate together
The down of green geese and an ostrich's feather.

Facil.
I think, Mr. Rumble, my Lady displays
The most dexterous art in uniting our lays:
Your elder Muse first, like the waggon of Night,
Moves solemn and grand;—like the chariot of Light,
Airy Trope then advances, with different pace;—
And, like Twilight, between you I find my right place:

Rumble.
Remember, young man! while his splendor you brag on,
That rich Ponderosity rides in a waggon.—
But I will not descend to a vile contestation;
Our minds were not fashion'd for reciprocation.
My Lady I pardon, on this one condition,
That she quickly proceeds to a decomposition:
She may chuse of our epitaphs which she thinks fit;
But a mixture so monstrous I will not admit.
She as well with her scissars might hastily snip
From different portraits the eye, nose, and lip,
And think that her needle accomplish'd great matters,
By compacting a face of the discrepant tatters.

Lady Sophia.
O mercy!—dear Sir, pray this business adjust,
And do not disturb my Sir Simon's calm dust!
If a squabble concerning his tomb you excite,
I am sure his dear spirit will haunt us to-night:
I feel in this terror new anguish arise,
And a fresh flood of sorrow swells into my eyes!

Carey
(aside to Rumble).
Mr. Rumble! I fear, if you do not submit,
My Lady will have an hysterical fit.

Rumble.
Sir! in points that my credit and honor involve,
A few drops of salt-water won't melt my resolve.

Facil
(aside to Carey.)
I protest, though fantastic I own she appears,
I can not bear the sight of such beauty in tears;
And as I perceive she is really distrest,
I'll at once put an end to the strife in her breast.
[To Lady Sophia.]
Dear Madam! that you on this point may not grieve,
And your delicate mind from all doubt to relieve,
Let me and my friend our pretensions resign,
And leave one single Bard to embellish the shrine;
We beg that alone Mr. Rumble may bear
The honor he thinks that we ought not to share.

Carey.
No, no, my good friend; you're too modest, indeed!
I've a plan for ye all, that I trust will succeed.

Lady Sophia.
What is it, good Carey? I wish to pursue
Some happy expedient suggested by you.

Carey.
At Mecca, dear Ma'am, seven poems, we're told,
O'er the Prophet's rich tomb were suspended in gold;
Now, let three worthy Bards each an elegy write,
And suspend all their works o'er the tomb of your Knight.

Lady Sophia.
O charming!—your thought is enchantingly fine!—
Mr. Rumble! I hope you applaud his design?

Rumble.
From this proposition I will not revolt,
Though my young rivals' pride it may serve to exalt;
Of the honor you do them I will not be jealous;
But I'll teach the vain youths to revere an Entellus.

Lady Sophia.
Well, I hope what has past will be kindly forgot,
And that now you'll all deign to compose on the spot.—
I commend, my good Carey, the Bards to your care,
Entertain them, I beg, with the choicest of fare:
And, as it grows late, you must leave me, my friend,
In affliction's chaste rites my lone evening to spend.—
Farewell, worthy Sirs;—you now leave me to sorrow,
But I hope to attend you at dinner to-morrow.

Carey.
Come, my friends! now permit me to be your director.—
Mr. Rumble, 'Rack Punch is your genuine nectar;
As the night's coming on, I'll prepare a rich bowl,
That shall give to you Poets fresh vigour of soul;
For the Muse with new force, like the flying-fish, springs,
When she stoops for the purpose of wetting her wings.

[Exit Carey, with Rumble, Facil, and Trope.
Lady Sophia
alone.
I am glad we have sooth'd Mr. Rumble's chagrin!

Enter Miss Jasper.
Lady Sophia.
O, my dear, with the Poets I've had such a scene!
They have shaken my nerves to that cruel degree,
I shall quiver all night like a poor aspen-tree.

Miss Jasper.
My tidings new life in your heart will infuse;
The young Sculptor's arriv'd!

Lady Sophia.
That, indeed, is sweet news!
Then in effigy soon I shall clasp my dear Knight!
Is the block too provided, and perfectly white?
Of the true Parian marble, I trust, he will mold
The statue my bosom so pants to behold.

Miss Jasper.
I assure you, the business engages his heart,
And you'll see a fine work from his exquisite art.
To my brother already the vault I have shewn;
And of attitudes there he is thinking alone.
As I mean to conceal his arrival at home,
We went by the pass under ground to the dome.

Lady Sophia.
We will join him, dear Fanny, and go the same way.
I long at the tomb my devotions to pay;
To hear how your brother's fine fancy and skill
With new decorations the structure may fill,
And to see in what posture the statue may stand.

Miss Jasper.
Let us go—he'll be happy to kiss your fair hand.

[Exeunt.
[The Scene changes to the inside of a grand Mausoleum; on one side, a large oblong Tomb of white marble, on the other, some steps ascending from a subterraneous passage. Jasper appears in the Gown and Cap of Sir Simon.]
Jasper.
What a part has my sister induc'd me to play!
I wish from the scene I could well slip away.
I shall never succeed—surely love was ne'er made,
Since the days of old Jove, in such odd masquerade!
I scarce know myself, in this whimsical plight,
But I fancy I look very like the old Knight:
Yet if you, my sweet Widow, incline to my plan,
This image will beat the original man.—
Gad! I hope she won't fancy I'm really his ghost!—
But I hear them below—I must leap to my post.

[Jasper places himself in a striking attitude on the top of the marble Tomb, while Lady Sophia and Miss Jasper ascend the steps from the subterranean passage.]
Lady Sophia
(starting).
O mercy!—what phantom amazes my sight!
Has the grave to my love given back the dear Knight?—
'Tis himself I perceive—'tis no fanciful dream!
O, I faint—
[Falls on the arm of Miss Jasper.
[Jasper flies to Lady Sophia in great agitation, and speaks at the same time to Miss Jasper.]
See the end of your pitiful scheme!—
As I live, her fond fears have suspended her breath!
And I've frighten'd the delicate creature to death!

Miss Jasper.
Never fear, simple Charles! you will not lose your wife:—
You understand marble much better than life!

Lady Sophia
(reviving).
Where am I!—O, pray Sir, are you Mr. Jasper?

Miss Jasper
(whispering her brother).
In your arms, you poor simpleton! hasten to clasp her!—
If you stand so confounded, how can you succeed?
I shall presently think you a statue indeed!

Jasper
(to Lady Sophia).
How fare you, dear Lady?—'tis true that you see
Your devoted affectionate Jasper in me:
Of your beauty my heart has long felt the effect,
In chaste admiration and tender respect:
No licentious design with my passion could mingle;
But the very first moment I heard you were single,
All my foreign pursuits I resolv'd to disclaim;
For your smiles are to me more attractive than fame.
Though the wintry ocean was roaring between us,
My love, with fond hope in the favor of Venus,
Bade me cross the rough deep, and, disdaining controul,
Fly with speed to the distant delight of my soul!

Lady Sophia.
How like my Sir Simon in person and air!
The mild-turn of his lip, and his eye to a hair!

Jasper.
O think not the likeness lies only in feature!
I've his soul, heart, and passions, my sweet, lovely creature!
In me, then, O fancy you see him restor'd!
And with fondness connubial be lov'd and ador'd!
Instead of a senseless, cold image of stone,
Make his living resemblance for ever your own!
A soft statue of wax in your hand I will prove,
You shall mold me to all the chaste fancies of love.

Lady Sophia.
I protest your idea is sweetly refin'd,
To delight the pure warmth of a delicate mind!
I could wish such a likeness to keep in my view,
And for ever contemplate Sir Simon in you:
But, though the mere offspring of tender sensation,
Such a wish would be reckon'd a gross inclination;
And I'm sure I should die at that horrid suggestion!

Jasper
(embracing her).
Dear angel! no tongue shall thy purity question.

Lady Sophia.
O Charles! to my bosom you give such a flutter,
All my reasons against you I want breath to utter.

Jasper.
By the eloquent glance of that dear melting eye,
With my delicate purpose I know you'll comply.

Miss Jasper.
Hush! hush! I have heard some one step near the door;
Pray be still, till the coast I can clearly explore.

Lady Sophia.
O my stars! should my people discover at home,
That by night I converse with a man in this dome—

Miss Jasper.
Haste! away! under ground you must quickly retreat.

Jasper
(taking up Lady Sophia in his arms).
Come, escape in my arms!

Lady Sophia.
Don't you feel my heart beat?

Jasper.
So does mine, lovely creature! my soul is on fire.

Lady Sophia.
But I never can yield to your sensual desire.

[Exit Jasper, bearing off Lady Sophia down the subterranean staircase.]
Carey,
(speaking without the great door of the Mausoleum.)
Miss Jasper! Miss Jasper! pray, are you within?

Miss Jasper
(opening the door).
Is it you, Sir, who make so uncivil a din?—
Pray what is the cause of this sudden intrusion?
Have your Poets produc'd a new scene of confusion?

Carey.
Gerrard says you have lock'd up the key of the 'Rack,
So to give the Bards punch be so kind to come back.
Come, my dear.—

Miss Jasper.
The deuce take your poetical potion!
You have spoil'd my poor Lady's nocturnal devotion.—
How forgetful old Gerrard is suddenly grown!
He has, surely, the key in some draw'r of his own.
But you jest.—Get you gone!—I must hasten to her.

Carey.
But without a few kisses indeed I shan't stir.

Miss Jasper.
Pish!—nonsense!—make haste then—I've no time to spare.

Carey.
Can't you give me some minutes, my dear busy Fair?

Miss Jasper.
No, in truth, not a moment; my hurry is great—
Meet me here in the morning precisely at eight,
And perhaps I may make you some pleasing amends.
Good-night!

Carey.
Let us part; though, like lovers and friends;
I deserve this sweet kiss for my patience.

Miss Jasper.
Good-night!
To-morrow, I hope, will bring wonders to light!

[Exeunt different ways.