■V jGBOhdo« KM flnfflH ■ ClassJ — Boole __jk gM°_j COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. GPO r~— '■■'■■«- £2U THE RIVALS / THE RIVALS- A Com- edy ° By Richard Brinsley /c Sheridan ° Illustrated by Frank M. Gregory . . . NEW YORK: DODD, MEAD & COMPANY. MDCCCXCIII *v ^v Copyright, rSSg, By White & Allen. Copyright, iSqj, By Dodd, Mead akd Company \* •/// rights reserved. JEppograpiip BV C. J. PETERS AND SON, Boston. flrfsstuorfe P.Y JOHN WILSON AND SON, Cambridge. ru K IV % ).j By RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 4 ILLUSTRATED BY ^fy/'Ur-' • . (•• 1ST AQUARELLES. Frontispiece. Bob Acres. Sir Anthony Absolute, Mrs. Malaprop, and Lydia. Captain Absolute 's Lodgings. Sir Lucius O' Trigger dictating the Challenge. Sir Anthony Absolute and Mrs. Malaprop. 3- 4- 5- BLACK AND WHITE. Page Tailpiece to Prologue 23 Fag and Thomas 29 Interior of Gyde's Porch 35 Court- Yard of Gyde's Porch . Lydia and Lucy 6. Lucy 37 43 47 7- 8. 9- 10. "Dear Simplicity" 5; Fag 60 "Odd's Whips and Wheels!" 61 Absolute, Faulkland, and Acres • 64 List of Illustrations. BLACK AND WHITE- {continued). Page ii. Vignette. Acres. "Good apartments. Jack' 1 ... 65 12. "So expert at her Harpsichord" 67 13. Vignette. Bob Acres 72 14. Sir Anthony and Captain Absolute . 77 15. Vignette. The North Parade 82 16. Sir Lucius O'Trigger and Lucy 83 17. Absolute. "Not to please your father, sir ?" . . 91 18. Vignette. Sir Anthony Absolute 94 19. Faulkland and Julia 99 20. Captain Absolute and Mrs. Malaprop 103 21. Absolute. "Thus then let me enforce my suit". . m 22. Vignette. Clod Hall 115 23. Vignette. Sir Lucius O'Trigger 117 24. Vignette. Blunderbuss Hall 119 25. Vignette. The Challenge 121 2 g i< * * * j ust the place where i could make a shift to do without it " i 24 27. Acres and David 127 28. Lydia and Mrs. Malaprop 133 29. Absolute. "Nay, nay, ma'am — " 141 30. Lydia and Julia 157 31. Lydia. "There would he kneel to me in the snow — " 160 32. Fag. " Not a step before the ladies for the world ! " 163 33. Vignette, Absolute. "How shall I escape him?" . 165 34. Sir Anthony. "Nay, let me see your taste — " . . 167 35. The Duel 173 36. " And at night we will drink a health to the young COUPLES — *' iSl 37. Tailpiece 184 38. Tailpiece to the Epilogue 27 THE RIVALS. A COMEDY. AS ORIGINALLY ACTED AT COVENT-GARDEN THEATRE IN 1 775. Sir Anthony Absolute Mr. Shuter. Captain Absolute Mr. Woodward. Faulkland Mr. Lends. Acres Mr. Quick. Sir Lucius O'Trigger Mr. Lee. Fag Mr. Lee Lewes. David Mr. Dunstal. Thomas Mr. Fearon. Mrs. Malaprop Mrs. Green. Lydia Languish Miss Barsanti. Julia Mrs. Bulkley. Lucy Mrs, Lessingham. Maid, Boy, Servants, etc. SCENE. — Bath. Time of Action. — Five Hours. A preface to a play seems generally to be considered as a kind of closet-prologue, in which — if his piece has been successful — the author solicits that indulgence from the reader which he had before experienced from the audience : but as the scope and immediate object of a play is to please a mixed assembly in representation (whose judg- ment in a theatre at least is decisive), its degree of reputa- tion is usually as determined as public, before it can be prepared for the cooler tribunal of the study. Thus any farther solicitude on the part of the writer becomes unne- cessary at least, if not an intrusion : and if the piece has been condemned in the performance, I fear an address to the closet, like an appeal to posterity, is constantly regarded as the procrastination of a suit, from a consciousness of the weakness of the cause. From these considerations, the ii 1 2 Preface. following comedy would certainly have been submitted to the reader, without any farther introduction than what it had in the representation, but that its success has probably been founded on a circumstance which the author is in- formed has not before attended a theatrical trial, and which consequently ought not to pass unnoticed. I need scarcely add, that the circumstance alluded to was the withdrawing of the piece, to remove those imperfections in the first representation which were too obvious to escape reprehension, and too numerous to admit of a hasty cor- rection. There are few writers, I believe, who, even in the fullest consciousness of error, do not wish to palliate the faults which they acknowledge ; and, however trifling the performance, to second their confession of its deficien- cies, by whatever plea seems least disgraceful to their ability. In the present instance, it cannot be said to amount either to candour or modesty in me, to acknowledge an extreme inexperience and want of judgment on matters, in which, without guidance from practice, or spur from success, a young man should scarcely boast of being an adept. If it be said, that under such disadvantages no one should attempt to write a play, I must beg leave to dissent from the posi- tion, while the first point of experience that I have gained on the subject is a knowledge of the candour and judgment with which an impartial public distinguishes between the errors of inexperience and incapacity, and the indulgence which it shows even to a disposition to remedy the defects of either. It were unnecessary to enter into any farther extenuation of what was thought exceptionable in this play, but that it Preface. 1 3 has been said, that the managers should have prevented some of the defects before its appearance to the public — and in particular the uncommon length of the piece as represented the first night. It were an ill return for the most liberal and gentlemanly conduct on their side, to suffer any censure to rest where none was deserved. Hurry in writing has long been exploded as an excuse for an author ; — however, in the dramatic line, it may happen, that both an author and a manager may wish to fill a chasm in the entertainment of the public with a hastiness not altogether culpable. The season was advanced when I first put the play into Mr. Harris's hands : it was at that time at least double the length of any acting comedy. I profited by his judgment and experience in the curtailing of it — till, I believe, his feeling for the vanity of a young author got the better of his desire for correctness, and he left many excres- cences remaining, because he had assisted in pruning so many more. Hence, though I was not uninformed that the acts were still too long, I flattered myself that, after the first trial, I might with safer judgment proceed to remove what should appear to have been most dissatisfactory. Many other errors there were, which might in part have arisen from my being by no means conversant with plays in general, either in reading or at the theatre. Yet I own that, in one respect, I did not regret my ignorance : for as my first wish in attempting a play was to avoid every appearance of plagiary, I thought I should stand a better chance of effecting this from being in a walk which I had not frequented, and where, consequently, the progress of invention was less likely to be interrupted by starts of 1 4 Preface. recollection : for on subjects on which the mind has been much informed, invention is slow of exerting itself. Faded ideas float in the fancy like half-forgotten dreams ; and the imagination in its fullest enjoyments becomes suspicious of its offspring, and doubts whether it has created or adopted. With regard to some particular passages which on the first night's representation seemed generally disliked, I con- fess, that if I felt any emotion of surprise at the disap- probation, it was not that they were disapproved of, but that I had not before perceived that they deserved it. As some part of the attack on the piece was begun too early to pass for the sentence of judgment, which is ever tardy in condemning, it has been suggested to me, that much of the disapprobation must have arisen from virulence of malice, rather than severity of criticism : but as I was more apprehensive of there being just grounds to excite the latter than conscious of having deserved the former, I continue not to believe that probable, which I am sure must have been unprovoked. However, if it was so, and I could even mark the quarter from whence it came, it would be ungen- erous to retort : for no passion suffers more than malice from disappointment. For my own part, I see no reason why the author of a play should not regard a first night's audience as a candid and judicious friend attending, in behalf of the public, at his last rehearsal. If he can dis- pense with flattery, he is sure at least of sincerity, and even though the annotation be rude, he may rely upon the just- ness of the comment. Considered in this light, that audience, whose fiat is essential to the poet's claim, whether Preface. 15 his object be fame or profit, has surely a right to expect some deference to its opinion, from principles of politeness at least, if not from gratitude. As for the little puny critics, who scatter their peevish strictures in private circles, and scribble at every author who has the eminence of being unconnected with them, as they are usually spleen-swoln from a vain idea of increasing their consequence, there will always be found a petulance and illiberality in their remarks, which should place them as far beneath the notice of a gentleman, as their original dulness had sunk them from the level of the most unsuc- cessful author. It is not without pleasure that I catch at an opportunity of justifying myself from the charge of intending any national reflection in the character of Sir Lucius O'Trigger. If any gentlemen opposed the piece from that idea, I thank them sincerely for their opposition ; and if the condemna- tion of this comedy (however misconceived the provocation) could have added one spark to the decaying flame of national attachment to the country supposed to be reflected on, I should have been happy in its fate ; and might with truth have boasted, that it had done more real service in its failure, than the successful morality of a thousand stage- novels will ever effect. It is usual, I believe, to thank the performers in a new play, for the exertion of their several abilities. But where (as in this instance) their merit has been so striking and uncontroverted, as to call for the warmest and truest applause from a number of judicious audiences, the poet's after-praise comes like the feeble acclamation of a child to 1 6 Preface. close the shouts of a multitude. The conduct, however, of the principals in a theatre cannot be so apparent to the public. I think it therefore but justice to declare, that from this theatre (the only one I can speak of from experience) those writers who wish to try the dramatic line will meet with that candour and liberal attention, which are generally allowed to be better calculated to lead genius into excel- lence, than either the precepts of judgment, or the guidance of experience. THE AUTHOR. BY THE AUTHOR. SPOKEN BY MR. WOODWARD AND MR. QUICK. Enter Serjeant-at-Law, and Attorney following, and giving a paper. Serj. What's here ! a vile cramp hand ! I cannot see Without my spectacles. Att. He means his fee. Nay, Mr. Serjeant, good sir, try again. [Gives money.] Serj. The scrawl improves ! [more] O come, 't is pretty plain. Hey ! how 's this ? Dibble ! sure it cannot be ! A poet's brief! a poet and a fee! Att. Yes, sir ! though you without reward, I know, Would gladly plead the Muse's cause. 17 1 8 Prologue. Serj. So ! so ! Att. And if the fee offends, your wrath should fall On me. Serj. Dear Dibble, no offence at all. Att. Some sons of Phoebus in the courts we meet, Serj. And fifty sons of Phoebus in the Fleet ! Att. Nor pleads he worse, who with a decent sprig Of bays adorns his legal waste of wig. Serj. Full-bottom'd heroes thus, on signs, unfurl A leaf of laurel in a grove of curl ! Yet tell your client, that, in adverse days, This wig is warmer than a- bush of bays. Att. Do you, then, sir, my client's place supply, Profuse of robe, and prodigal of tie — Do 'you, with all those blushing powers of face, And wonted bashful hesitating grace, Rise in the court, and flourish on the case. [Exit. Serj. For practice then suppose — this brief will show it,— Me, Serjeant Woodward, — counsel for the poet. Used to the ground, I know 'tis hard to deal With this dread court, from whence there's no appeal ; No tricking here, to blunt the edge of law, Or, damn'd in equity, escape by flaw : But judgment given, your sentence must remain ; No writ of error lies — to Drury-lane ! Yet when so kind you seem, 't is past dispute We gain some favour, if not costs of suit. No spleen is here ! I see no hoarded fury ; — I think I never faced a milder jury ! Prologue. 1 9 Sad else our plight ! where frowns are transportation, A hiss the gallows, and a groan damnation ! But such the public candour, without fear My client waives all right of challenge here. No newsman from our session is dismiss'd, Nor wit nor critic we scratch off the list ; His faults can never hurt another's ease, His crime, at worst, a bad attempt to please ; Thus, all respecting, he appeals to all, And by the general voice will stand or fall. 20 Prologue. Prologue. BY THE AUTHOR. SPOKEN ON THE TENTH NIGHT, BY MRS. BULKLEY. Granted our cause, our suit and trial o'er, The worthy serjeant need appear no more : In pleasing I a different client choose, He served the Poet — I would serve the Muse : Like him, I '11 try to merit your applause, A female counsel in a female's cause. Look on this form, 1 — where humour, quaint and sly, Dimples the cheek, and points the beaming eye ; Where gay invention seems to boast its wiles In amorous hint, and half-triumphant smiles ; While her light mask or covers satire's strokes, Or hides the conscious blush her wit provokes. Look on her well — does she seem form'd to teach ? Should you expect to hear this lady preach ? Is grey experience suited to her youth ? Do solemn sentiments become that mouth ? Bid her be grave, those lips should rebel prove To every theme that slanders mirth or love. 1 Pointing to the figure of Comedy. Prologue. 2 1 Yet, thus adorn 'd with every graceful art To charm the fancy and yet reach the heart — Must we displace her ? And instead advance The goddess of the woeful countenance — The sentimental Muse! — Her emblems view, The Pilgrim's Progress, and a sprig of rue ! View her — too chaste to look like flesh and blood - Primly portray'd on emblematic wood ! There, fix'd in usurpation, should she stand, She '11 snatch the dagger from her sister's hand : And having made her votaries weep a flood, Good heaven ! she '11 end her comedies in blood — Bid Harry Woodward break poor Dunstal's crown ! Imprison Quick, and knock Ned Shuter down ; While sad Barsanti, weeping o'er the scene, Shall stab herself — or poison Mrs. Green. Such dire encroachments to prevent in time, Demands the critic's voice — the poet's rhyme. Can our light scenes add strength to holy laws ! Such puny patronage but hurts the cause: Fair virtue scorns our feeble aid to ask ; And moral truth disdains the trickster's mask, For here their favourite stands, 1 whose brow severe And sad, claims youth's respect, and pity's tear ; Who, when oppress'd by foes her worth creates, Can point a poniard at the guilt she hates 1 Pointing to Tragedy. Epilogue. BY THE AUTHOR. SPOKEN BY MRS. BULKLEY. Ladies, for you — I heard our poet say — He 'd try to coax some moral from his play : " One moral's plain," cried I, " without more fuss ; Man's social happiness all rests on us : Through all the drama — whether damn'd or not — Love gilds the scene, and women guide the plot. From every rank obedience is our clue — ■ D'ye doubt ? — The world's great stage shall prove it true." The Cit, well skill'd to shun domestic strife, Will sup abroad ; but first he '11 ask his wife : John Trot, his friend, for once will do the same, But then — he '11 just step home to tell his dame. The surly squire at noon resolves to rule, And half the day — Zounds ! madam is a fool ! Convinced at night, the vanquished victor says, Ah, Kate ! you women have such coaxing ways ! The jolly toper chides each tardy blade, Till reeling Bacchus calls on Love for aid : Then with each toast he sees fair bumpers swim, And kisses Chloe on the sparkling brim ! 26 Epilogue. Nay, I have heard that statesmen — great and wise Will sometimes counsel with a lady's eyes ! The servile suitors watch her various face, She smiles preferment, or she frowns disgrace, Curtsies a pension here — there nods a place. Nor with less awe, in scenes of humbler life, Is view'd the mistress, or is heard the wife. The poorest peasant of the poorest soil, The child of poverty, and heir to toil, Early from radiant Love's impartial light Steals one small spark to cheer this world of night : Dear spark ! that oft through winter's chilling woes Is all the warmth his little cottage knows ! The wandering tar, who not for years has press'd The widow'd partner of his day of rest, On the cold deck, far from her arms removed, Still hums the ditty which his Susan loved ; And while around the cadence rude is blown, The boatswain whistles in a softer tone. The soldier, fairly proud of wounds and toil, Pants for the triumph of his Nancy's smile ; But ere the battle should he list her cries, The lover trembles — and the hero dies ! That heart, by war and honour steel'd to fear, Droops on a sigh, and sickens at a tear ! But ye more cautious, ye nice-judging few, Who give to beauty only beauty's due, Though friends to love — ye view with deep regret Oui conquests marr'd, our triumphs incomplete, Till polish'd wit more lasting charms disclose, Epilogue. 27 And judgment fix the darts which beauty throws In female breasts did sense and merit rule, The lover's mind would ask no other school ; Shamed into sense, the scholars of our eyes, Our beaux from gallantry would soon be wise ; Would gladly light, their homage to improve, The lamp of knowledge at the torch of love ! Sir Anthony Absolute, Mrs. Malaprop, and Lydia. Scene I. — A Street. Enter Thomas ; he crosses the Stage ; Fag follows, looking after him. Fag. What! Thomas! sure 'tis he? What! Thomas! Thomas ! Thos. Hey ! Odd's life ! Mr. Fag ! give us your hand, my old fellow-servant. Fag. Excuse my glove, Thomas : I 'm devilish glad to see you, my lad. Why, my prince of charioteers, you look as hearty! — but who the deuce thought of seeing you in Bath ? Thos. Sure, master, Madam Julia, Harry, Mrs. Kate, and the postilion, be all come. Fag. Indeed ! Thos. Ay, master thought another fit of the gout was coming to make him a visit; so he'd a mind to gi't the slip, and whip ! we were all off at an hour's warning. Fag. Ay, ay, hasty in everything, or it would, not be Sir Anthony Absolute ! Thos. But tell us, Mr. Fag, how does young master ? Odd ! Sir Anthony will stare to see the Captain here ! 3 1 32 The Rivals. Fag. I do not serve Captain Absolute now. Thos. Why sure ! Fag. At present I am employed by Ensign Beverley. Thos. I doubt, Mr. Fag, youha'n't changed for the better. Fag. I have not changed, Thomas. Thos. No ! Why, did n't you say you had left young master ? Fag. No. Well, honest Thomas, I must puzzle you no farther : briefly then — Captain Absolute and Ensign Beverley are one and the same person. Thos. The devil they are ! Fag. So it is indeed, Thomas ; and the ensign half of my master being on guard at present — the captain has nothing to do with me. Thos. So, so! What, this is some freak, I warrant! Do tell us, Mr. Fag, the meaning o't — you know I ha' trusted you. Fag. You '11 be secret, Thomas ? Thos. As a coach-horse. Fag. Why then the cause of all this is — Love, — Love, Thomas, who (as you may get read to you) has been a masquerader ever since the clays of Jupiter. Thos. Ay, ay ; I guessed there was a lady in the case : but pray, why does your master pass only for en- sign ? Now if he had shammed general indeed — Fag. Ah! Thomas, there lies the mystery o' the matter. Hark'ee, Thomas, my master is in love with a lady of a very singular taste : a lady who likes him better as a half-pay ensign than if she knew he was son and heir to Sir Anthony Absolute, a baronet of three thousand a year. The Rivals. 33 Thos. That is an odd taste indeed ! But has she got the stuff, Mr. Fag? Is she rich, hey? Fag. Rich ! Why, I believe she owns half the stocks ! Zounds ! Thomas, she could pay the national debt as easily as I could my washerwoman ! She has a lapdog that eats out of gold, she feeds her parrot with small pearls, and all her thread-papers are made of bank- notes ! Thos. Bravo, faith ! Odd ! I warrant she has a set of thousands at least : but does she draw kindly with the captain ? Fag. As fond as pigeons. Thos. May one hear her name ? Fag. Miss Lydia Languish. But there is an old tough aunt in the way ; though, by the by, she has never seen my master — for we got acquainted with miss while on a visit in Gloucestershire. Thos. Well — I wish they were once harnessed to- gether in matrimony. But pray, Mr. Fag, what kind of a place is this Bath? I ha' heard a deal of it — here's a mort o' merry-making, hey ? Fag. Pretty well, Thomas, pretty well — 'tis a good lounge ; in the morning we go to the pump-room (though neither my master nor I drink the waters) ; after break- fast we saunter on the parades, or play a game at billiards ; at night we dance; but damn the place, I'm tired of it: their regular hours stupefy me — not a fiddle nor a card after eleven ! However, Mr. Faulkland's gentleman and I keep it up a little in private parties; — I'll introduce you there, Thomas — you '11 like him much. 34 The Rivals. Thos. Sure I know Mr. Du Peigne — you know his master is to marry Madam Julia. Fag. I had forgot. But, Thomas, you must polish a little — indeed you must. Here now — this wig! What the devil do you do with a wig, Thomas ? None of the London whips of any degree of ton wear wigs now. Thos. More 's the pity ! more 's the pity ! I say. Odd's life ! when I heard how the lawyers and doctors had took to their own hair, I thought how 't would go next : odd rabbit it ! when the fashion had got foot on the bar, I guessed 't would mount to the box! — but 't is all out of character, believe me, Mr. Fag : and look 'ee, I '11 never gi' up mine — - the lawyers and doctors may do as they will. Fag. Well, Thomas, we '11 not quarrel about that. Thos. Why, bless you, the gentlemen of the profes- sions ben't all of a mind — for in our village now, thoff Jack Gauge, the exciseman, has ta'en to his carrots, there 's little Dick the farrier swears he '11 never forsake his bob, though all the college should appear with their own heads ! Fag. Indeed! well said, Dick! But hold — mark! mark ! Thomas. Thos. Zooks ! 't is the captain. Is that the lady with him ? Fag. No, no, that is Madam Lucy, my master's mis- tress's maid. They lodge at that house — but I must after him to tell him the news. Thos. Odd! he 's giving her money ! Well, Mr. Fag — Fag. Good-bye, Thomas. I have an appointment in Gyde's Porch this evening at eight ; meet me there, and we '11 make a little party. [Exeunt severally. a \ The Rivals. 37 Scene II. — A Dressing-room in Mrs. Malaprop's Lodgings. Lydia sitting on a sofa, with a book in her hand. Lucy, asj'nst returned from a message. Lucy. Indeed, ma'am, I traversed half the town in search of it : I don't believe there 's a circulating library in Bath I ha'n't been at. 38 The Rivals. Lyd. And could not you get The Reward of Constancy? Lucy. No, indeed, ma'am. Lyd. Nor The Fatal Connexion ? Lucy. No, indeed, ma'am. Lyd. Nor The Mistakes of the Heart ? Lucy. Ma'am, as ill luck would have it, Mr. Bull said Miss Sukey Saunter had just fetched it away. Lyd. Heigh-ho ! Did you inquire for The Delicate Distress ? Lucy. Or, The Memoirs of Lady Woodford? Yes, in- deed, ma'am. I asked everywhere for it ; and I might have brought it from Mr. Frederick's, but Lady Slattern Lounger, who had just sent it home, had so soiled and dog's-eared it, it wa'n't fit for a Christian to read. Lyd. Heigh-ho ! Yes, I always know when Lady Slattern has been before me. She has a most observing thumb ; and, I believe, cherishes her nails for the conven- ience of making marginal notes. Well, child, what have you brought me ? Lucy. Oh! here, ma'am. [Taking books from under her cloak, and from her pockets.'] This is The Gordian Knot, — and this Peregrine Pickle. Here are The Tears of Sensibility, and Humphrey Clinker. This is The Memoirs of a Lady of Quality, written by herself, and here the second volume of The Sentimental Journey. Lyd. Heigh-ho! What are those books by the glass ? Lucy. The great one is only The Whole Duty of Man, where I press a few blonds, ma'am. Lyd. Very well — give me the sal volatile. Lucy. Is it in a blue cover, ma'am ? The Rivals. 39 Lyd. My smelling-bottle, you simpleton ! Lucy. Oh, the drops ! — here, ma'am. Lyd. Hold! — here's some one coming — quick, see who it is. [Exit Lucy.] Surely I heard my cousin Julia's voice. Re-enter Lucy. Lucy. Lud ! ma'am, here is Miss Melville. Lyd. Is it possible ! — \Exit Lucy. Enter Julia. Lyd. My dearest Julia, how delighted am I ! [Em- brace.] How unexpected was this happiness ! Jul. True, Lydia — and our pleasure is the greater. But what has been the matter? — you were denied to me at first ! Lyd. Ah, Julia, I have a thousand things to tell you ! But first inform me what has conjured you to Bath ? Is Sir Anthony here ? Jul. He is — we are arrived within this hour — and I suppose he will be here to wait on Mrs. Malaprop as soon as he is dressed. Lyd. Then before we are interrupted, let me impart to you some of my distress ! I know your gentle nature will sympathize with me, though your prudence may con- demn me ! My letters have informed you of my whole connection with Beverley ; but I have lost him, Julia ! My aunt has discovered our intercourse by a note she intercepted, and has confined me ever since ! Yet, would you believe it ? she has absolutely fallen in love with a tall 40 The Rivals. Irish baronet she met one night since we have been here, at Lady Macshuffle's rout. Jul. You jest, Lydia ! Lyd. No, upon my word. She really carries on a kind of correspondence with him, under a feigned name though, till she chooses to be known to him ; but it is a Delia or a Celia, I assure you. Jul. Then, surely, she is now more indulgent to her niece. . Lyd. Quite the contrary. Since she has discovered her own frailty, she is become more suspicious of mine. Then I must inform you of another plague ! That odious Acres is to be in Bath to-day ; so that I protest I shall be teased out of .all spirits ! Jul. Come, come, Lydia, hope for the best — Sir An- thony shall use his interest with Mrs. Malaprop. Lyd. But you have not heard the worst. Unfortunately I had quarrelled with my poor Beverley, just before my aunt made the discovery, and I have not seen him since, to make it up. Jul. What was his offence ? Lyd. Nothing at all ! — But, I don't know how it was, as often as we had been together, we had never had a quar- rel, and, somehow, I was afraid he would never give me an opportunity. So, last Thursday, I wrote a letter to myself, to inform myself that Beverley was at that time paying his addresses to another woman. I signed it your friend un- kjioivn, showed it to Beverley, charged him with his false- hood, put myself in a violent passion, and vowed I 'd never see him more. The Rivals. 41 Jul. And you let him depart so, and have not seen him since ? Lyd. 'T was the next day my aunt found the matter out. I intended only to have teased him three days and a half, and now I 've lost him for ever. Jul. If he is as deserving and sincere as you have represented him to me, he will never give you up so. Yet consider, Lydia, you tell me he is but an ensign, and you have thirty thousand pounds. Lyd. But you know I lose most of my fortune if I marry without my aunt's consent, till of age ; and that is what I have determined to do, ever since I knew the penalty. Nor could I love the man, who would wish to wait a clay for the alternative. Jul. Nay, this is caprice ! Lyd. What, doss Julia tax me with caprice ? I thought her lover Faulkland had inured her to it. Jul. I do not love even his faults. Lyd. But apropos — you have sent to him, I suppose ? Jul. Not yet, upon my word — nor has he the least idea of my being in Bath. Sir Anthony's resolution was so sudden, I could not inform him of it. Lyd. Well, Julia, you are your own mistress (though under the protection of Sir Anthony), yet have you, for this long year, been a slave to the caprice, the whim, the jealousy of this ungrateful Faulkland, who will ever delay assuming the right of a husband, while you suffer him to be equally imperious as a lover. Jul. Nay, you are wrong entirely. We were contracted before my father's death. That, and some consequent em- \2 The Rivals. barrassments, have delayed what I know to be my Falk- land's most ardent wish. He is too generous to trifle on such a point : and for his character, you wrong him there too. No, Lydia, he is too proud, too noble to be jealous ; if he is captious, 't is without dissembling ; if fretful, with- out rudeness. Unused to the fopperies of love, he is negli- gent of the little duties expected from a lover — but being unhackneyed in the passion, his affection is ardent and sin- cere ; and as it engrosses his whole soul, he expects every thought and emotion of his mistress to move in unison with his. Yet, though his pride calls for this full return, his humility makes him undervalue those qualities in him which would entitle him to it ; and not feeling why he should be loved to the degree he wishes, he still suspects that he is not loved enough. This temper, I must own, has cost me many unhappy hours ; but I have learned to think myself his debtor, for those imperfections which arise from the ardour of his attachment. Lyd. Well, I cannot blame you for defending him. But tell me candidly, Julia, had he never saved your life, do you think you should have been attached to him as you are ? Believe me, the rude blast that overset your boat was a prosperous gale of love to him. Jul. Gratitude may have strengthened my attachment to Mr. Faulkland, but I loved him before he had preserved me ; yet surely that alone were an obligation sufficient. Lyd. Obligation ! why a water spaniel would have done as much ! Well, I should never think of giving my heart to a man because he could swim. Jul. Come, Lydia, you are too inconsiderate. Lyd. Nay, I do but jest. What 's here? The Rivals. 45 Re-enter Lucy in a hurry. Lucy. O ma'am, here is Sir Anthony Absolute just come home with your aunt. Lyd. They '11 not come here. Lucy, do you watch. [Exit Lucy. Jul. Yet I must go. Sir Anthony does not know I am here, and if we meet, he '11 detain me, to show me the town. I '11 take another opportunity of paying my respects to Mrs. Malaprop, when she shall treat me, as long as she chooses, with her select words so ingeniously misapplied, without being mispronounced. Re-enter Lucy. Lucy. O j^ud ! ma'am, they are both coming up-stairs. Lyd. Well, I '11 not detain you, coz. Adieu, my dear Julia, I 'm sure you are in haste to send to Faulkland. There — through my room you '11 find another staircase. Jul. Adieu! [Embraces Lydia, and exit. Lyd. Here, my dear Lucy, hide these books. Quick, quick. Fling Peregrine Pickle under the toilet — throw Roderick Random into the closet — put The Innocent Adul- tery into The Whole Duty of Man — thrust Lord Aimworth under the sofa — cram Ovid behind the bolster — there — put The Man of Feeling into your pocket — so, so — now lay Mrs. Chapone in sight, and leave Fordyccs Sermons open on the table. Lucy. O burn it, ma'am ! the hair-dresser has torn away as far as Proper Pride. Lyd. Nevermind — open at Sobriety. Fling me Lord Chesterfield's Letters. Now for 'em. [Exit Lucy. 46 The Rivals. Enter Mrs. Malaprop, and Sir Anthony Absolute. Mrs. Mal. There, Sir Anthony, there sits the deliber- ate simpleton who wants to disgrace her family, and lavish herself on a fellow not worth a shilling. Lyd. Madam, I thought you once — Mrs. Mal. You thought, miss ! I don't know any business you have to think at all — thought does not be- come a young woman. But the point we would request of you is, that you will promise to forget this fellow — to illiterate him, I say, quite from your memory. Lyd. Ah, madam ! our memories are independent of our wills. It is not so easy to forget. Mrs. Mal. But I say it is, miss ; there is nothing on earth so easy as to forget, if a person chooses to set about it. I 'm sure I have as much forgot your poor dear uncle as if he had never existed — and I thought it my duty so to do ; and let me tell you, Lydia, these violent memories don't become a young woman. Sir Anth. Why sure* she won't pretend to remember what she 's ordered not ! — ay, this comes of her reading ! Lyd. What crime, madam, have I committed, to be treated thus ? Mrs. Mal. Now don't attempt to extirpate yourself from the matter ; you know I have proof controvertible of it. But tell me, will you promise to do as you 're bid ? Will you take a husband of your friends' choosing ? Lyd. Madam, I must tell you plainly, that had I no preference for any one else, the choice you have made would be my aversion. ]K The Rivals. 49 Mrs. Mal. What business have you, miss, with prefer- ence and aversion ? They don't become a young woman ; and you ought to know, that as both always wear off, 't is safest in matrimony to begin with a little aversion. I am sure I hated your poor dear uncle before marriage as if he 'd been a blackamoor — and yet, miss, you are sensible what a wife I made ! — and when it pleased heaven to release me from him, 't is unknown what tears I shed ! But suppose we were going to give you another choice, will you promise us to give up this Beverley ? Lyd. Could I belie my thoughts so far as to give that promise, my actions would certainly as far belie my words. Mrs. Mal. Take yourself to your room. You are fit company for nothing but your own ill-humours. Lyd. Willingly, ma'am — I cannot change for the worse. [Exit. Mrs. Mal. There's a little intricate hussy for you ! Sir Axth. It is not to be wondered at, ma'am, — all this is the natural consequence of teaching girls to read. Had I a thousand daughters, by Heaven ! I 'd as soon have them taught the black art as their alphabet ! Mrs. Mal. Nay, nay, Sir Anthony, you are an absolute misanthropy. Sir Axth. In my way hither, Mrs. Malaprop, I observed your niece's maid coming forth from a circulating library ! She had a book in each hand — they were half-bound volumes, with marble covers ! From that moment I guessed how full of duty I should see her mistress ! Mrs. Mal. Those are vile places, indeed ! Sir Anth. Madam, a circulating library in a town is 50 The Rivals. as an evergreen tree of diabolical knowledge ! It blossoms through the year! And depend on it, Mrs. Malaprop, that they who are so fond of handling the leaves, will long for the fruit at last. Mrs. Mal. Fy, fy, Sir Anthony ! you surely speak laconically. Sir Anth. Why, Mrs. Malaprop, in moderation now, what would you have a woman know ? Mrs. Mal. Observe me, Sir Anthony. I would by no means wish a daughter of mine to be a progeny of learning; I don't think so much learning becomes a young woman ; for instance, I would never let her meddle with Greek, or Hebrew, or algeDra, or simony, or fluxions, or paradoxes, or such inflammatory branches of learning — neither would it be necessary for her to handle any of your mathematical, astronomical, diabolical instruments. But, Sir Anthony, I would send her, at nine years old, to a boarding-school, in order to learn a little ingenuity and artifice. Then, sir, she should have a supercilious knowledge in accounts; — and as she grew up, I would have her instructed in geometry, that she might know something of the contagious countries ; but above all, Sir Anthony, she should be mistress of orthodoxy, that she might not mis-spell, and mis-pronounce words so shamefully as girls usually do ; and likewise that she might reprehend the true meaning of what she is say- ing. This, Sir Anthony, is what I would have a woman know; — and I don't think there is a superstitious article in it. Sir Anth. Well, well, Mrs. Malaprop, I will dispute the point no further with you ; though I must confess, that you The Rivals. 5 1 are a truly moderate and polite arguer, for almost every third word you say is on my side of the question. But, Mrs. Malaprop, to the more important point in debate — you say you have no objection to my proposal ? Mrs. Mal. None, I assure you. I am under no positive eno-ao-ement with Mr. Acres, and as Lydia is so obstinate against him, perhaps your son may have better success. Sir Anth. Well, madam, I will write for the boy directly. He knows not a syllable of this yet, though I have for some time had the proposal in my head. He is at present with his regiment. Mrs. Mal. We have never seen your son, Sir An- thony ; but I hope no objection on his sidq. Sir Anth. Objection! let him object if he dare! No, no, Mrs. Malaprop, Jack knows that the least demur puts me in a frenzy directly. My process was always very simple — in their younger days, 't was "Jack, do this ; " — if he demurred, I knocked him down — and if he grumbled at that, I always sent him out of the room. Mrs. Mal. Ay, and the properest way, o' my con- science ! — nothing is so conciliating to young people as severity. Well, Sir Anthony, I shall give Mr. Acres his discharge, and prepare Lydia to receive your son's invoca- tions ; and I hope you will represent her to the captain as an object not altogether illegible. Sir Anth. Madam, I will handle the subject prudently. Well, I must leave you ; and let me beg you, Mrs. Malaprop, to enforce this matter roundly to the girl. Take my advice — keep a tight hand : if she rejects this proposal, clap her under lock and key ; and if you were just to let the ser- 52 The Rivals. vants forget to bring her dinner for three or four clays, you can't conceive how she 'd come about. [Exit. Mrs. Mal. Well, at any rate I shall be glad to get her from under my intuition. She has somehow discovered my partiality for Sir Lucius O'Trigger — sure, Lucy can't have betrayed me ! No, the girl is such a simpleton, I should have made her confess it. Lucy ! Lucy ! [Calls.'] Had she been one of your artificial ones, I should never have trusted her. Re-enter Lucy. Lucy. Did you call, ma'am ? Mrs. Mal. Yes, girl. Did you see Sir Lucius while you was out ? Lucy. No, indeed, ma'am, not a glimpse of him. Mrs. Mal. You are sure, Lucy, that you never men- tioned — Lucy. Oh gemini ! I 'd sooner cut my tongue out. Mrs. Mal. Well, don't let your simplicity be imposed on. Lucy. No, ma'am. Mrs. Mal. So, come to me presently, and I '11 give you another letter to Sir Lucius ; but mind, Lucy — if ever you betray what you are entrusted with (unless it be other people's secrets to me), you forfeit my malevolence for ever ; and your being a simpleton shall be no excuse for your locality. [Exit. Lucy. Ha ! ha ! ha ! So, my dear Simplicity, let me give you a little respite. [Altering her maimer.] Let girls in my station be as fond as they please of appearing expert The Rivals. 55 and knowing in their trusts ; commend me to a mask of silliness and a pair of sharp eyes for my own interest under it ! Let me see to what account have I turned my simpli- city lately. [Looks at a paper.~\ For abetting Miss Lydia Languish in a design of running away with an ensign ! — in money, sundry times, twelve pound twelve ; gowns, Jive ; hats, ruffles, caps, etc., etc., number/ess ! From the said en- sign, within this last month, six guineas and a half. About a quarter's pay! Item, from Mrs. Ma lap rop, for betraying the young people to her — when I found matters were likely to be discovered — two guineas, and a black paduasoy. Item, from Mr. Acres, for carrying divers letters — which I never delivered — two guineas, and a pair of buckles. Item, from Sir Lucius 0" 1 Trigger, three crowns, two gold pocket-pieces, and a silver snuff-box ! Well clone, Simplicity! Yet I was forced to make my Hibernian believe, that he was corre- sponding, not with the aunt, but with the niece : for though not over rich, I found he had too much pride and delicacy to sacrifice the feelings of a gentleman to the necessities of his fortune. [Exit. r?£.~. Scene I. — Captain Absolute's Lodgings. Captain Absolute and Fag. Fag. Sir, while I was there Sir Anthony came in : I told him, you had sent me to inquire after his health, and to know if he was at leisure to see you. Abs. And what did he say, on hearing I was at Bath ? Fag. Sir, in my life I never saw an elderly gentleman more astonished ! He started back two or three paces, rapped out a dozen interjectural oaths, and asked, what the devil had brought you here. Abs. Well, sir, and what did you say ? Fag. Oh, I lied, sir — I forget the precise lie ; but you may depend on 't, he got no truth from me. Yet, with sub- mission, for fear of blunders in future, I should be glad to fix what has brought us to Bath ; in order that we may lie a little consistently. Sir Anthony's servants were curious, sir, very curious indeed. Abs. You have said nothing to them ? Fag. Oh, not a word, sir, — not a word ! Mr. Thomas, 56 Captain Absolute's Lodgings. The Rivals. 57 indeed, the coachman (whom I take to be the discreetest of whips) — Abs. 'Sdeath ! you rascal ! you have not trusted him ! Fag. Oh, no, sir — no — no — not a syllable, upon my veracity ! — He was, indeed, a little inquisitive ; but I was sly, sir — devilish sly ! My master (said I), honest Thomas, (you know, sir, one says honest to one's inferiors), is come to Bath to recruit — Yes, sir, I said to recruit — and whether for men, money, or constitution, you know, sir, is nothing to him, nor any one else. Abs. Well, recruit will do — let it be so. Fag. Oh, sir, recruit will do surprisingly — indeed, to give the thing an air, I told Thomas, that your honour had already enlisted five disbanded chairmen, seven minority waiters, and thirteen billiard-markers. Abs. You blockhead, never say more than is necessary. Fag. I beg pardon, sir-- I beg pardon —but, with sub- mission, a lie is nothing unless one supports it. Sir, when- ever I draw on my invention for a good current lie, I always forge indorsements as well as the bill. Abs. Well, take care you don't hurt your credit, by offering too much security. Is Mr. Faulkland returned ? Fag. He is above, sir, changing his dress. Abs. Can you tell whether he has been informed of Sir Anthony and Miss Melville's arrival ? Fag. I fancy not, sir; he has seen no one since he came in but his gentleman, who was with him at Bristol I think, sir, I hear Mr. Faulkland coming down — Abs. Go, tell him I am here. Fag. Yes, sir. [Going.] I beg pardon, sir, but should 58 The Rivals. Sir Anthony call, you will do me the favour to remember that we are recruiting, if you please. Abs. Well, well. Fag. And, in tenderness to my character, if your honour could bring in the chairmen and waiters, I should esteem it as an obligation ; for though I never scruple a lie to serve my master, yet it hurts one's conscience to be found out. {Exit. Abs. Now for my whimsical friend — if he does not know that his mistress is here, I '11 tease him a little before I tell him — Enter Faulkland. Faulkland, you're welcome to Bath again ; you are punctual in your return. Faulk. Yes ; I had nothing to detain me, when I had finished the business I went on. Well, what news since I left you? how stand matters between you and Lydia ? Abs. Faith, much as they were ; I have not seen her since our quarrel ; however, I expect to be recalled every hour. Faulk. Why don't you persuade her to go off with you at once ? Abs. What, and lose two-thirds of her fortune? you forget that, my friend. No, no, I could have brought her to that long ago. Faulk. Nay then, you trifle too long — if you are sure of her, propose to the aunt in your own character, and write to Sir Anthony for his consent. Abs. Softly, softly ; for though I am convinced my little Lydia would elope with me as Ensign Beverley, yet am I by no means certain that she would take me with the impedi- ment of our friends' consent, a regular humdrum wedding,' The Rivals. 59 and the reversion of a good fortune on my side : no, no ; I must prepare her gradually for the discovery, and make myself necessary to her, before I risk it. Well, but Faulkland, you '11 dine with us to-day at the hotel ? Faulk. Indeed I cannot ; I am not in spirits to be of such a party. Abs. By heavens ! I shall forswear your company. You are the most teasing, captious, incorrigible lover ! Do love like a man. Faulk. I own I am unfit for company. Abs. Am not I a lover ; ay, and a romantic one too ? Yet do I carry everywhere with me such a confounded farrago of doubts, fears, hopes, wishes, and all the flimsy furniture of a country miss's brain ! Faulk. Ah ! Jack, your heart and soul are not, like mine, fixed immutably on one only object. You throw for a large stake, but losing, you could stake and throw again : but I have set my sum of happiness on this cast, and not to succeed, were to be stripped of all. Abs. But, for Heaven's sake ! what grounds for appre- hension can your whimsical brain conjure up at present ? Faulk. What grounds for apprehension, did you say ? Heavens ! are there not a thousand ! I fear for her spirits — her health — her life. My absence may fret her; her anxiety for my return, her fears for me may oppress her gentle temper : and for her health, does not every hour bring me cause to be alarmed ? If it rains, some shower may even then have chilled her delicate frame ! If the wind be keen, some rude blast may have affected her ! The heat of noon, the dews of the evening, may endanger the life of her, 6o The Rivals. for whom only I value mine. O Jack ! when delicate and feeling souls are separated, there is not a feature in the sky, not a movement of the elements, not an aspiration of the breeze, but hints some cause for a lover's apprehension ! Abs. Ay, but we may choose whether we will take the hint or not. So, then, Faulkland, if you were convinced that Julia were well and in spirits, you would be entirely content ? Faulk. I should be happy beyond measure — I am anxious only for that. Abs. Then to cure your anxiety at once — Miss Melville is in perfect health, and is at this moment in Bath. Faulk. Nay, Jack — don't trifle with me. Abs. She is arrived here with my father within this hour. Faulk. Can you be serious ? Abs. I thought you knew Sir Anthony better than to be surprised at a sudden whim of this kind. Seriously, then, it is as I tell you — upon my honour. Faulk. My dear friend ! Hollo, Du Peigne ! my hat. My dear Jack — now nothing on earth can give me a moment's uneasiness. The Rivals. 63 Re-enter Fag. Fag. Sir, Mr. Acres, just arrived, is below. Abs. Stay, Faulkland, this Acres lives within a mile of Sir Anthony, and he shall tell you how your mistress has been ever since you left her. Fag, show the gentleman up. [Exit Fag. Faulk. What, is he much acquainted in the family? Abs. Oh, very intimate: I insist on your not going! besides, his character will divert you. Faulk. Well, I should like to ask him a few questions. Abs. He is likewise a rival of mine — that is, of my other self's, for he does not think his friend Captain Abso- lute ever saw the lady in question ; and it is ridiculous enough to hear him complain to me of one Beverley, a concealed skulking rival, who — Faulk. Hush ! he 's here. Enter Acres. Acres. Ha ! my dear friend, noble captain, and honest Jack, how do'st thou ? just arrived, faith, as you see. Sir, your humble servant. Warm work on the roads, Jack ! Odd's whips and wheels ! I 've travelled like a comet, with a tail of dust all the way as long as the Mall. Abs. Ah ! Bob, you are indeed an eccentric planet, but we know your attraction hither. Give me leave to intro- duce Mr. Faulkland to you ; Mr. Faulkland, Mr. Acres. Acres. Sir, I am most heartily glad to see you : sir, I solicit your connections. Hey, Jack — what, this is Mr. Faulkland, who — 6 4 The Rivals. u V Abs. Ay, Bob, Miss Melville's Mr. Faulkland. Acres. Od'so ! she and your father can be but just arrived before me : I suppose you have seen them. Ah ! Mr. Faulkland, you are indeed a happy man. Faulk. I have not seen Miss Melville, yet, sir ; I hope she enjoyed full health and spirits in Devonshire? Acres. Never knew her better in my life, sir, — never better. Odd's blushes and blooms ! she has been as healthy as the German Spa. Faulk. Indeed ! I did hear that she had been a little indisposed. Acres. False, false, sir — only said to vex you: quite the reverse, I assure you. The Rivals. 65 Faulk. There, Jack, you see she has the advantage of me; I had almost fretted myself ill. Abs. Now are you angry with your mistress for not having been sick? Faulk. No, no, you misunderstand me : yet surely a little trifling indisposition is not an unnatural consequence 66 The Rivals. of absence from those we love. Now confess — is n't there something unkind in this violent, robust, unfeeling health ? Abs. Oh, it was very unkind of her to be well in your absence, to be sure ! Acres. Good apartments, Jack. Faulk. Well, sir, but you were saying that Miss Mel- ville has been so exceedingly well — what then she has been merry and gay, I suppose ? Always in spirits — hey ? Acres. Merry, odd's crickets ! she has been the belle and spirit of the company wherever she has been — so lively and entertaining ! so full of wit and humour ! Faulk. There, Jack, there. Oh, by my soul ! there is an innate levity in woman, that nothing can overcome. What ! happy, and I away ! Abs. Have done. How foolish this is ! just now you were only apprehensive for your mistress's spirits. Faulk. Why, Jack, have I been the joy and spirit of the company ? Abs. No indeed, you have not. Faulk. Have I been lively and entertaining? Abs. Oh, upon my word, I acquit you. Faulk. Have I been full of wit and humour ? Abs. No, faith, to do you justice, you have been con- foundedly stupid indeed. Acres. What 's the matter with the gentleman ? Abs. He is only expressing his great satisfaction at hearing that Julia has been so well and happy — that 's all — hey, Faulkland ? Faulk. Oh ! I am rejoiced to hear it — yes, yes, she- has a happy disposition ! The Rivals. 69 Acres. That she has indeed — then she is so accom- plished — so sweet a voice — so expert at her harpsichord — such a mistress of flat and sharp, squallante, rumblante, and quiverante ! There was this time month — odd's minins and crotchets how she did chirrup at Mrs. Piano's concert ! Faulk. There again, what say you to this ? you see she has been all mirth and song — not a thought of me! Abs. Pho ! man, is not music the food of love ? Faulk. Well, well, it may be so. Pray, Mr. , what 's his damned name ? Do you remember what songs Miss Melville sung ? Acres. Not I indeed. Abs. Stay, now, they were some pretty melancholy purling-stream airs, I warrant ; perhaps you may recollect ; did she sing, WJicn absent from my soul 's delight ? Acres. No, that wa'n't it. Abs. Or, Go, gentle gales ! [Sings. Acres. Oh, no ! nothing like it. Odds ! now I recollect one of them — My heart 's my ozvn, my will is free. \_Si)igs. Faulk. Fool ! fool that I am ! to fix all my happiness on such a trifler ! 'Sdeath ! to make herself the pipe and ballad-monger of a circle ! to soothe her light heart with catches and glees ! What can you say to this, sir ? Abs. Why, that I should be glad to hear my mistress had been so merry, sir. Faulk. Nay, nay, nay — I 'm not sorry that she has been happy — no, no, I 'm glad of that — I would not have had her sad or sick — yet surely a sympathetic heart would have shown itself even in the choice of a song — she might 7 because, he says, the ancients would never stick to an oath or two, but would say, by Jove ! or by Bacchus ! or by Mars ! or by Venus ! or by Pallas, according to the sentiment : so that to swear with propriety, says my little major, the oath should be an echo to the sense ; and this we call the oath referential or sentimental swearing — ha ! ha ! 't is genteel, is n't it ? Abs. Very genteel, and very new, indeed ! and I dare say will supplant all other figures of imprecation. Acres. Ay, ay, the best terms will grow obsolete. Damns have had their day. Fag. Sir, there is a gentleman below desires to see you. Shall I show him into the parlour ? Abs. Ay — you may. Acres. Well, I must be gone — Abs. Stay ; who is it, Fag ? Fag. Your father, sir. Abs. You puppy, why did n't you show him up directly ? {Exit Fag. Acres. You have business with Sir Anthony. I expect a message from Mrs. Malaprop at my lodgings. I have sent also to my clear friend Sir Lucius O'Trigger. Adieu, Jack! we must meet at night, when you shall give me a dozen bumpers to little Lydia. Abs. That I will with all my heart. [Exit Acres. Now for a parental lecture — I hope he has heard nothing of the business that has brought me here — I wish the gout had held him fast in Devonshire, with all my soul ! 74 The Rivals. Enter Sir Anthony Absolute. Sir, I am delighted to see you here; looking so well! your sudden arrival at Bath made me apprehensive for your health. Sir Anth. Very apprehensive, I dare say, Jack. What, you are recruiting here, hey? Ads. Yes, sir, I am on duty. Sir Anth. Well, Jack, I am glad to see you, though I did not expect it, for I was going to write to you on a little matter of business. Jack, I have been considering that I grow old and infirm, and shall probably not trouble you long. Abs. Pardon me, sir, I never saw you look more strong and hearty ; and I pray frequently that you may continue so. Sir Anth. I hope your prayers may be heard, with all my heart. Well then, Jack, I have been considering that I am so strong and hearty I may continue to plague you a long time. Now, Jack, I am sensible that the income of your commission, and what I have hitherto allowed you, is but a small pittance for a lad of your spirit. Abs. Sir, you are very good. Sir Anth. And it is my wish, while yet I live, to have my boy make some figure in the world. I have resolved, therefore, to fix you at once in a noble independence. Abs. Sir, your kindness overpowers me — such gener- osity makes the gratitude of reason more lively than the sensations even of filial affection. Sir Anth. I am glad you are so sensible of my atten- tion — and you shall be master of a large estate in a few weeks. The Rivals. 75 Abs. Let my future life, sir, speak my gratitude ; I can- not express the sense I have of your munificence. Yet, sir, I presume you would not wish me to quit the army ? Sir Anth. Oh, that shall be as your wife chooses. Abs. My wife, sir ! Sir Anth. Ay, ay, settle that between you — settle that between you. Abs. A wife, sir, did you say ? Sir Anth. Ay, a wife — why, did not I mention her before ? Abs. Not a word of her, sir. Sir Anth. Odd so ! I must n't forget her though. Yes, Jack, the independence I was talking of is by a marriage — the fortune is saddled with a wife — but I suppose that makes no difference. Abs. Sir ! sir ! you amaze me ! Sir Anth. Why, what the devil 's the matter with the fool ? Just now you were all gratitude and duty. Abs. I was, sir, — you talked to me of independence and a fortune, but not a word of a wife. Sir Anth. Why — what difference does that make? Odds life, sir! if you have the estate, you must take it with the live stock on it, as it stands. Abs. If my happiness is to be the price, I must beg leave to decline the purchase. Pray, sir, who is the lady ? Sir Anth. What 's that to you, sir ? Come, give me your promise to love, and to marry her directly. Abs. Sure, sir, this is not very reasonable, to summon my affections for a lady I know nothing of. •j 6 The Rivals. Sir Anth. I am sure, sir, 't is more unreasonable in you to object to a lady you know nothing of. Abs. Then, sir, I must tell you plainly that my inclina- tions are fixed on another — my heart is engaged to an angel. Sir Anth. Then pray let it send an excuse. It is very sorry — but business prevents its waiting on her. Ads. But my vows are pledged to her. Sir Anth. Let her foreclose, Jack ; let her foreclose ; they are not worth redeeming ; besides, you have the angel's vows in exchange, I suppose ; so there can be no loss there. Abs. You must excuse me, sir, if I tell you, once for all, that in this point I cannot obey you. Sir Anth. Hark'ee, Jack ; I have heard you for some time with patience — I have been cool — quite cool; but take care — you know 1 am compliance itself — when I am not thwarted ; — no one more easily led — when I have my own way ; but don't put me in a frenzy. Abs. Sir, I must repeat it — in this I cannot obey you. Sir Anth. Now damn me ! if ever I call you Jack again while I live ! Abs. Nay, sir, but hear me. Sir Anth. Sir, I won't hear a word — not a word ! not one word ! so give me your promise by a nod — and I '11 tell you what, Jack — I mean, you dog — if you don't, by — Abs. What, sir, promise to link myself to some mass of ugliness ! to — Sir Anth. Zounds ! sirrah ! the lady shall be as ugly as I choose : she shall have a hump on each shoulder ; she shall be as crooked as the crescent ; her one eye shall roll The Rivals. 79 like the bull's in Cox's Museum ; she shall have a skin like a mummy, and the beard of a Jew — she shall be all this, sirrah ! — yet I will make you ogle her all day, and sit up all night to write sonnets on her beauty. Abs. This is reason and moderation indeed ! Sir Anth. None of your sneering, puppy ! no grinning, jackanapes ! Abs. Indeed, sir, I never was in a worse humour for mirth in my life. Sir Axth. 'T is false, sir, I know you are laughing in your sleeve ; I know you '11 grin when I am gone, sirrah ! Abs. Sir, I hope I know my duty better. Sir Axth. None of your passion, sir ! none of your violence, if you please ! It won't do with me, I promise you. Abs. Indeed, sir, I never was cooler in my life. Sir Axth. 'T is a confounded lie ! I know you are in a passion in your heart ; I know you are, you hypocritical young dog ! but it won't do. Abs. Nay, sir, upon my word — Sir Axth. So you will fly out ! can't you be cool like me ? What the devil good can passion do ? Passion is of no service, you impudent, insolent, overbearing reprobate ! There, you sneer again ! don't provoke me ! but you rely upon the mildness of my temper — you do, you dog ! you play upon the meekness of my disposition ! Yet, take care — the patience of a saint may be overcome at last ! but mark ! I give you six hours and a half to consider of this : if you then agree, without any condition, to do everything on earth that I choose, why — confound you ! I may in 8o The Rivals. time forgive you. If not, zounds ! don't enter the same hemisphere with me ! don't dare to breathe the same air, or use the same light with me ; but get an atmosphere and a sun of your own ! I '11 strip you of your commission ; I '11 lodge a five-and-threepence in the hands of trustees, and you shall live on the interest. I '11 disown you, I '11 disin- herit you, I '11 unget you ! and damn me ! if ever I call you Jack again ! {Exit. Abs. Mild, gentle, considerate father — I kiss your hands ! What a tender method of giving his opinion in these matters Sir Anthony has ! I dare not trust him with the truth. I wonder what old wealthy hag it is that he wants to bestow on me ! Yet he married himself for love ! and was in his youth a bold intriguer, and a gay companion! Re-enter Fag. Fag. Assuredly, sir, your father is wrath to a degree ; he comes down-stairs eight or ten steps at a time — mutter- ing, growling, and thumping the banisters all the way : I and the cook's dog stand bowing at the door — rap! he gives me a stroke on the head with his cane ; bids me carry that to my master ; then kicking the poor turnspit into the area, damns us all, for a puppy triumvirate! Upon my credit, sir, were I in your place, and found my father such very bad company, I should certainly drop his acquaintance. Abs. Cease your impertinence, sir, at present. Did you come in for nothing more ? Stand out of the way ! [Pushes htm asid-c, and exit. Fag. So! Sir Anthony trims my master: he is afraid to reply to his father — then vents his spleen on poor Fag ! The Rivals. 81 When one is vexed by one person, to revenge one's self on another, who happens to come in the way, is the vilest injustice ! Ah ! it shows the worst temper — the basest — Enter Boy. Boy. Mr. Fag ! Mr. Fag! your master calls you. Fag. Well, you little dirty puppy, you need not bawl so ! The meanest disposition ! the — Boy. Quick, quick, Mr. Fag ! Fag. Quick, quick ! you impudent jackanapes ! am I to be commanded by you too? you little impertinent, insolent, kitchen-bred — [Exit kicking and beating him. Scene II. — The North Parade. Enter Lucy. Lucy. So — I shall have another rival to add to my mistress's list — Captain Absolute. However, I shall not enter his name till my purse has received notice in form. Poor Acres is dismissed ! Well, I have done him a last friendly office, in letting him know that Beverley was here before him. Sir Lucius is generally more punctual, when he expects to hear from his dear Dalia, as he calls her : I wonder he 's not here ! I have a little scruple of conscience from this deceit ; though I should not be paid so well, if my hero knew that Delia was near fifty, and her own mistress. Enter Sir Lucius O'Trigger. Sir Luc. Ha! my little ambassadress — upon my con- science, I have been looking for you ; I have been on the South Parade this half hour. 82 The Rivals. Mi I Lucy. [Speaking simply.] O gemini ! and I have been waiting for your worship here on the North. Sir. Luc. Faith ! maybe that was the reason we did not meet ; and it is very comical too, how you could go out and I not see you — for I was only taking a nap at the Parade Coffee-house, and I chose the window on purpose that I might not miss you. Lucy. My stars ! Now I 'd wager a sixpence I went by while you were asleep. Sir Luc. Sure enough it must have been so — and I never dreamt it was so late, till I waked. Well, but my little girl, have you got nothing for me ? Lucy. Yes, but I have — I 've got a letter for you in my pocket. The Rivals. 85 Sir Luc. O faith ! I guessed you were n't come empty-handed. Well — let me see what the dear creature says. Lucy. There, Sir Lucius. [Gives him a letter. Sir Luc. [Reads.] Sir — there is often a sudden incentive impulse in love, that has a greater induction than years of domestic combination ; such was the commotion I felt at the first superfluous view of Sir Lucius O 1 Trigger. Very pretty, upon my word. Female punctuation forbids me to say more, yet let me add, that it zv ill give mc joy infallible to find Sir Lucius worthy the last criterion of my affections. Delia. Upon my conscience ! Lucy, your lady is a great mistress of language. Faith, she 's quite the queen of the diction- ary ! for the devil a word dare refuse coming at her call — though one would think it was quite out of hearing. Lucy. Ay, sir, a lady of her experience — Sir Luc. Experience ! what, at seventeen ? Lucy. O true, sir — but then she reads so — my stars ! how she will read off hand ! Sir Luc. Faith, she must be very deep read to write this way — though she is rather an arbitrary writer too — for here are a great many poor words pressed into the service of this note, that would get their habeas corpus from any court in Christendom. Lucy. Ah ! Sir Lucius, if you were to hear how she talks of you ! Sir Luc. Oh, tell her I '11 make her the best husband in the world, and Lady O'Trigger into the bargain ! But we must get the old gentlewoman's consent, and do every thing fairly. 86 The Rivals. Lucy. Nay, Sir Lucius, I thought you wa'n't rich enough to be so nice ! Sir Luc. Upon my word, young woman, you have hit it : I am so poor, that I can't afford to do a dirty action. If I did not want money, I 'd steal your mistress and her fortune with a great deal of pleasure. However, my pretty girl [gives her money], here 's a little something to buy you a ribbon ; and meet me in the evening, and I '11 give you an answer to this. So, hussy, take a kiss beforehand to put you in mind. [Kisses her. Lucy. O Lud ! Sir Lucius — I never seed such a gem- man ! My lady won't like you if you 're so impudent. Sir Luc. Faith she will, Lucy ! That same — pho ! what 's the name of it ? — modesty — is a quality in a lover more praised by the women than liked ; so, if your mistress asks you whether Sir Lucius ever gave you a kiss, tell her fifty — my dear. Lucy. What, would you have me tell her a lie ? Sir Luc. Ah, then, you baggage ! I '11 make it a truth presently. Lucy. For shame, now ! here is some one coming. Sir Luc. Oh, faith, I '11 quiet your conscience ! [Exit humming a tune. Enter Fag. Fag. So, so, ma'am ! I humbly beg pardon. Lucy. O Lud ! now, Mr. Fag — you flurry one so. Fag. Come, come, Lucy, here 's no one by — so a little less simplicity, with a grain or two more sincerity, if you please. You play false with us, madam. I saw you give The Rivals. 87 the baronet a letter. My master shall know this — and if he don't call him out, I will. Lucy. Ha ! ha ! ha ! you gentlemen's gentlemen are so hasty. That letter was from Mrs. Malaprop, simpleton. She is taken with Sir Lucius's address. Fag. How ! what tastes some people have ! Why, I suppose I have walked by her window a hundred times. But what says our young lady ? any message to my master ? Lucy. Sad news, Mr. Fag. A worse rival than Acres ! Sir Anthony Absolute has proposed his son Fag. What, Captain Absolute ? Lucy. Even so — I overheard it all. Fag. Ha ! ha ! ha ! very good, faith. Good-bye, Lucy, I must away with this news. Lucy. Well, you may laugh — but it is true, I assure you. [Going.] But, Mr. Fag, tell your master not to be cast down by this. Fag. Oh, he '11 be so disconsolate ! Lucy. And charge him not to think of quarrelling with young Absolute. Fag. Never fear ! never fear ! Lucy. Be sure — bid him keep up his spirits. Fag. We will — we will. \_Exennt severally. Scene I. — The NortJi Parade. Enter Captain Absolute. Abs. Tis just as Fag told me, indeed. Whimsical enough, faith ! My father wants to force me to marry the very girl I am plotting to run away with ! He must not know of my connection with her yet awhile. He has too summary a method of proceeding in these matters. How- ever, I '11 read my recantation instantly. My conversion is something sudden, indeed — but I can assure him it is very sincere. So, so — here he comes. He looks plaguy gruff. \_Stcps aside. Enter Sir Anthony Absolute. Sir Anth. No — I '11 die sooner than forgive him. Die, did I say ? I '11 live these fifty years to plague him. At our last meeting, his impudence had almost put me out of temper. An obstinate passionate, self-willed boy ! Who can he take after ? This is my return for getting him before all his brothers and sisters ! for putting him, at 88 Sir Luc/us (J Trigger dictating the Challenge. The Rivals. 89 twelve years old, into a marching regiment, and allowing him fifty pounds a year, besides his pay, ever since ! But I have done with him ; he 's anybody's son for me. I never will see him more, never — never — never. Abs. [Aside, coming forward.] Now for a penitential face. Sir Anth. Fellow, get out of my way ! Abs. Sir, you see a penitent before you. Sir Anth. I see an impudent scoundrel before me. Abs. A sincere penitent. I am come, sir, to acknowl- edge my error, and to submit entirely to your will. Sir Anth. What 's that ? Abs. I have been revolving, and reflecting, and consider- ing on your past goodness, and kindness, and condescension to me. Sir Anth. Well, sir ? Abs. I have been likewise weighing and balancing what you were pleased to mention concerning duty, and obedi- ence, and authority. Sir Anth. Well, puppy ? Abs. Why then, sir, the result of my reflections is — a resolution to sacrifice every inclination of my own to your satisfaction. Sir Anth. Why now you talk sense — absolute sense — I never heard anything more sensible in my life. Con- found you ! you shall be Jack again. Abs. I am happy in the appellation. Sir Anth. Why then, Jack, my dear Jack, I will now inform you who the lady really is. Nothing but your pas- sion and violence, you silly fellow, prevented my telling 9