!;<;>:!il;:x"!!:i 1' K.':' i .fc'RPii. i\)\\y'>\< l'!f.;l ^/jV,<, ,', Ml;lU>vl;i'l;:'::';,;;:: 'oK ^^-n^. ^^0^ »• ^'«- •I o *>i» c*^ S^^vP. Paul pry, A COMEDY, IN THREE ACTS. Z\ BY JOHN POOLE, Esq. AUTHOR OF smPSOMSf Co.; QUITE CORRECT, S^c. ^c. AS PERFORMED AT THE KAY-MAEKET THEATRE, LONUON, AND PARK AND CHATHAM THEATRES, NEW YOTR.!^. Oorrect copy from the Prompt-Book« NEVV-tOilK: ■ Published by E;. M. Mnrden, Ctrc a 'atinf Library «^ il>r»aaatj.e Reirository, 4 Chaujbers-»treie|v 183T CO Vi cr • CD C/2 c cr 2: — . "-; *^ N <; I I I • I 3 ii--c *;H^< o I Q fe|! ^ 2 Hi ^3 en OS ^ > C/1 *|t^ ^irrprrririii^l b p '^'^ ^•J^ *< , Mr Doubiedot; it will be a busy day at onr house. Master expects com- pany to dinner. Douh. Come, we must finisli fbe IMug : and when is Miss Eliza ^s weddicg* to take place ? Simon. Can't say : my master, Colonel Hardy, never lets any on? into his secrets. Daub. Well, Miss Eliza's a nice young lady. Simon. Ave ; tliat she is, but she is a sly one : she looks as if butter would'nt melt in her mouth ; but ahe's a sly one, I tell }ou. Daub, V\ hat makes you think that, Simon ? Simon. I don't mean any barm of her, for she's as kind a soul, bless her. as ever lived ; but, by putting this and that together, you know, we in the kitchen often knov/ whjit is going forward in the parlour, bet- ter than the parlour folks themselves. She's in love. Di'ub That's natural enough, since she's going to be married. Simon But as she never saw the man she is to marry— Dmb. Sensibly argued, with whom then ? Simon. 'SVf can't make that out. You know what a strict hand Colonel is — passionate — severe — no one in his house dare say their soul is their own ; so that, if our jouDg lady were in love with twenty men, sbe woqM 4 PAUL PRY. [Poole, never dare tell her father of it. No, no ; my master is not like his nei^^bbour, old Mr. Witherton, who is led by the nose, by a steward and a housekeeper. D u' Ah ! Door old gentleman ; but don't you think your yonnpr Indy's maid, Mrs Phebe, is in the secret? Simon. Mf'-v be, but slje's as close tong-ned as her mistress ; besides, she never mixes with us. Mrs. Phe- be's a develish nice s^irl, Doublcd')t ; hrra's wisding her a good husband, and she may have me for asking. Well, I must go else I shall get chit'ering' of the ;!ifnirs of the family- — a thing: I never do. [rQiies forward.)' Ha ! here comes VI r. P ul Pry. Douh. Plaeue take Mr. Paul Pry. He is one of those iiile. meddling feliuvvs, who, having no employ- ment themselves, are perpetually interfering in other peoi'l^'s affairs. Simon. Ave, and he's inquisitive into all matters, grei^t or small. Dorrb. Inquisitive! why, he makes no scruple to question y !u respecting your most private concerns. Then he will weary \oi] to death with a long story about a cra.np -n his leg- or the loss of a sleeve button, or some such idle matter, and so he parses his days. '' dropping in " fts he calls it, from house to house, at the most un- reasonable times, to the annoyance of every famih in the village. But I'll soon get rid of him. [Simon goes Enter Pry. Prij. TTa ! how d've do. Mr Doubledot ? Douh. Very bus\, M^. Pry, and have scarcely time to say " pretty well" thank ye. Pri/. Ha ! Simon ! you here .-* Rather early in the mornmg to be in a public house — sent here with a mes'^afre from your master, perhaps. I say, Simon, when this wedding takes plnce, I suppose your master will put you all into new liveries, eh .'' Simon. Can't sny, sir Pn/ .'.'ell I think he might {'oik.t ni S{mon'*s sleeve^ Between ourselve.s, Simon, it won't be before you waBt lem, eh I Act I.] ^AlJL TRY. 5 Simon. That's master's business, Gir,i and neither yours nor mine. — Prj/. Mr. Simon, behave yourseh", or I shall cora- / plain of you to the i olonei. Apropos, Simon, that's an uncommon fine leg of mutton iiie butcher Las just sent up to your house, Jo Doubledofjll weig-hs thirteen pounds five ounces. Daub. And how do you know that ? Fry. 1 ask'd the butcher. 1 say, Simon, is it for roasting or boiling ? Simon. Half and half, with the chill taken off There's your answer. [^Exit Simon. Pry. Tljat's an uncommon ill-behaved servant. Well, since you say you are busy, 1 won't interrupt you ; only, as I was passing, 1 thought i might as well drop in. Doub. Then now you may drop out again. The London coach will be in presently, and — Pry. No passengers by it to-day, for I have been to the top of the hill to look for it. Doub, Did you expect any one by it, that you were so anxious? Pry. No ; but I make it my business to see the coach come in every day, I can't bear to be idle. Doub. Useful occupation, truly. Pry. Always see it go out ; have done these ten years. Doub. Tiresome blockhead ! well, good morning to you. Pry. Good morning, Mr. Doubledot, you don't ap- pear to be very full here. Doub. No, no. Pry Ha ! you are at a heavy rent (pauses for an answer after tack question.) I've often thought of that. No supporting such an establishment without a deal of custo.n : if it's not an iinpertineDt question, don't you find it rataer a hard matter to make both ends meet when (Christinas comes .'* Doub. If It isn't asking an impertinent question, what's that to you .'' 6 PAUL PRY. [Poole. Pry. Oh ! nothing-, only some folks hare the luck ofit ; thev have just taken in a nobleman's family at the Dou'. W'lat's that ! A noble at the Green Drag-on? Pri/, Travelling carriajrf^" ^nd four. Three servants on the dicke;-' and an outrider, all in blue liveries. They dine, and stop all nig^ht : a pretty bill there will be "to-morrow, for the servants are not on board wag-es. Doub, Phg-ue take the Green Dracfon. How did you discover th^t thev are not on board wag-es ? Pry. 1 was curious to know, and asked one of them. You know J never miss any thine: for want of asking-, ^tis no fault of mine t'le nabob is not here. Douh. VV"hy. wliat had you to do with it? Pry. You know I never forget my friends. I stopt the carriagT as it was coining- down the hill — stopt it dead, and said that his lordship — I took him for a lord at first — that, if his lordship intended to make any stay, he couldn't do better than go to Doubledot's. Douh. W-11 ! Pry AV»4I, would 3'ou believe it? — out pops a saf- fron coloured face from the carriag-e-window, and says, your'e an impu»!ent rascal for stopping- my carriag-e, and ni not g-o there if another inn is to be found within ten miles ofit. Di'uh. There I that comes of your confounded med- dli -r. If you had not interfered. I should have stood an CCj'ih! chance with the ^^reen Dragon. Pry. Vm very sorry ; but I did it for the best. Doub. Did it for the best, indeed ! Deuce take you. By vour officious attempts to serve, you do more mis- cti.e- in the neitchbourhood than the exciseman, the a- pot^ic'carv 'ir.d the ;>itO''ney. all tog-ether. Prt/. W 11, there's g-ratitude. Now, really I must go — 'j^ao;' mornino:. (^oiwr) Dnih. Got rid ot' him at last. Well, what now ? Pry. i've dropt on« ot my g-loves Nay, that's very odd ; h^r/' it is in mv hand all tho time. [Exit, Boub, Come, that's civil, (looking out) Eh ! there's Act I ] PAUL PRr^ 7 the Postman ! I wonder whether the Parkinse^s hare got letters ajSfain today ? They have h^d letters every day this week, and I can't for the life of me think what they can — {Jee/s hastily in his pocket) Apropo? — talking of letters, here's one I took from him last week, for the Colonel's daughter, Miss Eliza, and I have always for- gotten to give it to her; I dare say it is not of snoh impor- tance, [peeps into it) " Likely unexpected affectionate." I can't make it out. No matter, I'll contrive to take it to the house. By the bye, tho' I have a deal to do to d 'y, buy an ounce of snuff, fetch my umbrella, which I left to be mended, drop in at old Mr. Witherton's, and ask him how his tooth is. I have often thgught that if that tooth was miae, I'd have it out. [Exit. SCENE II. — A chamber at Witherton^s — two chairs. Enter Mrs. Subtle and Grasp. Mrs. S. Don't threaten me, Mr. Grasp, for you know you are at least as much in my power as I am in your's, and that the exposure of either of us must be fatal to both. Grasp. Well, well, Mrs. Subtle, you must allow for the warmth of my temper. Mrs. S. Your temper will one day bring down ruin upon us. We have sufficient controul over Mr. Wi- therton to serve our own purpose ; but by making liim feel his subjection, by drawing the cord too tight, as you do, you run the risk of exciting his suspicions, and rousing him to rebellion. Grasp. Never fear ; we have the Old Baby in leadmg strings, and may do with him just what we please. Mrs. S. ^^'e might, whilst we remained at his owa place, in Wil shire, away from all the world ; but since his old friend. Col. Hardy, has induced him to pass a few months here, near him, a new influence has arisen. Grasp. And for that reason we must be the more ri- gid in the maintenance of our own. Then there's that young fellow, Willis, whom the Colonel has contrived to foist into his family : but I'll soon get rid of him'. S PAUL PRY. iPooIe. Mrs. S. It is not Willis, I fear ; but the girl, Marian. Whea we were at home no one presumed to interfere in the arrangements of the householu — that was our province ; but here, however, J have taken a dis- like to that girl, and she shall quit the house, displease whomsoever it may. Gi^asp. Indeed I it would displease me for one, and she shall remain. Mrs. S. Shall ! another such a word, Mrs. Grasp, and Grcusp. So now, Mrs. Subtle, you would threaten me. Who was the inventor of all the calumnies which have forever poisoned the mind of Vlr. Withert -n, against his nephew, poor young Somers .'' By whose arts have they been prevented meeting each other? Who falsified some of the poor lad's letters ^ intercepted and suppressed others ? impugned the character of the woman he chose for his wife ? Mrs. S. vVho was it, that, employed to forward the letters written to him by his uncle, destroyed them.''- who for these three years have robbed, pillaged, plun- dered — .'' Grasp. Both you and I So, there, we are even. Harkye. Mrs. Subtle, we have neither of us any thing to gain by quarelHng. Give ii>e your band : there ! Mrs. S. {aside) Tiie iiatei'ul wretch ! Grasp. And now to turn to a pleasanter subject. Mrs. S. What subject? Grasp. One upon which I have been coi-stant these five years — love, it relieves my heart, after any little misunderstanding between us, to say a tender word to you. Mrs. S. Really, Mr. Grasp, your gallantry — Grasp. I was never wanting in gallantry towards the fair sex : so, onoe for ail, my dear Mrs. .>ublle, you and 1 are so confoundedly in dread ol" each otber, the sooner we marry, and make our interests one, the better. M)x;. S. (aside) TJ sooner die. — But you are so im- patient. Act 1.1 PAUL pry; ^ Grasp, Pooh, pooh, you have been shilly shally these five years ; and it is lime you shouM makeup your mind that we unite our interests, play the same game, and have the old fellow more completely in our power ; besides, there is no real pleasure in a sing-le life. Look at our master, or rather our slave. He is an old bachelor, and with all his fortune, he is an unhappy man. J)l7's. S. (?'g"''w) True-but I have once already been married, and — Grasp. Aye. but that was a marriage contracted con- trary to your inclinations. Our case is different. You'll find me a tender indulgent husband ; so I'll allow you till to-morrow to consider of my proposal, and then, if you dont, hang me but I'll expose — But here comes the Baby, and Colonel Hardy, and that eter- nal Vi'ilJis, along with him. Remember, my darling Mrs. Su^itle, [shakes her hand) to morrow you consent to our making each other happy for life, or — I'll trounce you. [Exit. Mrs. S. I am indeed in his power ; for in one moment conlcj he destroy the fruits often long years of labour. To-morrow ! Then I must bring Witherton to adecision to-day. My controul over his affections is, 1 think — > nay, I am sure — it is entire. The result cannot but be favourable, and, once mistress here, I'll turn you to the dogs . Enter Witherton, Hardt and Willis. Hardy. You'll consider of it. What do you meaa by considering of it? What is there to consider? Can't you say at once whether you wdl dine with me,, or not .'' Witji. Not so loud, my dear i'riend, 3'ou agitate me* Hardy. Then why the Uevil dont you make up your mind ? I hate the man who doesn't make up his mnid. Do as f do — always make up your mind, right or wrong. With. Well, well. Hardy. Perhaps, ^'rs. Subtle, your housekeeper, wont give you leave. I say, Mrs. Subtle, [to Mrs. S ) it it you wUo refuse your master leave to dine with me t^- day ? 10 PAUL PRT. [Poole^ Mrs. S. I sir ! Mr. Witherton is perfectly at liberty to do as he pleases. Hardy. There ! you are at liberty to do as you please: and so you ought to be. I shall expect you, then. You have but to cross the garden to my house ; so the walk wont fatigue you. You'll meet a friend or two — shant tell ycu who, till you come — never do: and I shall have sometliing to say to you, relative to my daughter, Eli za's marriage J d'ye hear? With. I do, my friend : and I should hear you quite as well, though you did not speak so loud. Hardy. And bring Willis with you: he is a good lad: I have a great respect for him, else I should not have recommended him to you. You are pleased with him, en't you f With. I am, indeed. Each day of the few months lie has been a companion to me, he has grown in my esteem. His good sense, his kindly disposition, his ur- banity, have won from rae the conudence and afFectioa of a friend. Hardy. That's well ; and Marian — she doesn't dis- grace my recommendation, I'll answer for it. Where is she ? jyh's. S. She's engaged in my room, sir. Mr. Wither- ton received her into the family at your request; but really, I — 1 have so little to do, that an assistant is quite needless to me ; and, as I am for sparing my good mas- ter all the expense I can in the fnanagement of his house, it strikes me that — Hardy I think I could show him where one might be saved. With. No matter. The expense is trifling, and the poor thing appears to be happy to be here : and heaven knows, that the sight of a happy face is the only soJace in my lonely existence. Hard. Serve you right, you old fool, for not marrying in your youth : 1 don't wish to say any thing unpleasant, but it serves yim right, 1 tell you. And then, to make matters worse, jou must needs go pass your days at a pielancboly place in Wiltshire, where you hare only those about you, who — ah. — As to your neglecting; your nephew, I'll say n6thing about that now, because I won^t make yon uncomfortable — But you repent it — 1 know you do: and you'll repent it more every day you live. With. That is a subject I must not hear mentioned, even by you Hardy. Why now^ who the deuce does mention it ? Didn't f this very moment say I won't mention it for fear of making- you uncomfortable ? Ah, you are a fool- ish old fellow — mark my words, you are a very foolish old fellow ; I'll go home an4 talk to my daughter about her marriage. Bless her dear innocent little heart? there she is \ I'll answer for it, quietly seated in the li- brary, reading the Spectator, or painting daffodils on Velvet. Well, good morning, I shall expect you. [shakes his hands violently.) With. I'll come, but — ^consider my nerves, {^oes up and sits. J Hardy. Plague take your nerves ; but it serves you right. If you had lived a jolly life, as I have done, you would never have had any nerves. Good morning, Mrs. Subtle. Mrs. S. I wish you a very good morning, sir — allow me to conduct you to the door. Hardy. Willis, you will be sure to come with Mrs. Witherton. The train is fairly laid ; do you and your little wife be on your guard ; and if we don't blow your enemies into the air — (muttering to Mrs. Subtle, wha curtsies ceremoniously.) [Exeunt Hardy and Mrs. Subtle. Willis comes doion. With. There goes a happy man ! Oh, Hardy is right-. I ought to have married in my youth, (rises and comes ^•) Willis. And why did you not, sir ? With. For the fool's reason ; I was unwilling to sa- crifice my liberty. And what is the boasted liberty of a bachelor? He makes a solitarjf journey through life 12 PAUL FRY. {PooU!^ loving^ no one, by none beloved ; and when he reaches the confines of old ag-e, that which, with a tender com- panion at his side, might have been to him a garden of repose, he finds a barren wilderness. Willis. True, sir ; and often with the sacrifice of hia dear liberty into the bargain : avoiding tlie dreaded con- trol of a wife, he deems himself a slave to cunning and interested dependants. With, [looking cautiously about.) Willis, Willis, that I sometimes fear is my case ; not that I have any reason to doubt the fidelity and attachment of Grasp, or Mrs. Subtle, but they frequently assume an authority over me, which, however, it may displease me, yet from a long, lazy habit of submission, I have scarcely the cou- rage to resist. Willis, (aside.) My poor uncl6 ! With. But Mrs. Subtle is a good soul, a kind soul, and as attentive and affectionate towards me as a sister. Do you know that notwithstanding her humble situa- tion here, she is well-born, as she tells me, well educa- ted — aye. and a very fine woman too. Willis, [aside.) It is not difficult to perceive where this will end. — You — you had a sister, sir. With. I had: the mother of my ungrateful and diso- bedient nephew. She went abroad, died, and left ad only son— ^this Edward Somers. He might have been a , joy and comfort to me-^he is my bane and curse. But', iet us speak of him no more; his very name is hateful to me. Willis. This is the first time I ever ventured, sir. Du- ty and respect which hitherto have constrained me to be silent, now bid me speak What proofs have you. of his ingratitude and disobedience ? With. The proofs are in his conduct. At his mother's death I wrote to him to come to England, told him of my intention to seUle the bulk of my fortune upon him, to receive and consider him as my son t a Willis. You wrote to him ? With. Aye ; and often, as Grasp and Mrs. Subtle eas *^ct I.] PAUL PRY. IS testify ; — for they saw my letters. But he negflected my commands — nay, did not even deig-n to notice thetn. At leng-th, by mere accident, I discovered that he ivus in Eng'land, living obscurely in a mean village— married — Wdlis ! and as if to give point and poig-oanc^ to his disrespect, without even the form of asking the consent and approbation of me, his only relation, his frieud, his benefactor, Willis. How, sir! did he not write letter after letter, complaining of your neglect of him ? Did he nut entreat, implore your sanction to his marriage? 'til wearied at last by your continued silence, he became fully war- ranted in deciding for himself. With. The goodness of your own nature suggests these excuses for his misconduct. He did, indeed, some- times write to me, but in such terras, Willis Willis. Where are those letters sir? With. Mrs. Subtle, in kindness towards the reprobate, destroyed them the moment she read them to me. Willis. She read them? Did not you, yourself, read them, sir ? With. No : the good soul spared me that pain ; and as Grasp has since told me, she even suppressed the most offensive passages. Willis. Oh, mfamy ! With. Aye, question me now what grounds there are for my displeasure ; but when I add thvit he has dis- graced me by his worthless choice, that the woman he IS married is — Willis. Hold, sir ! I can hear no more. Your nephew may deserve your bitterest reproaches, but — fVith. Hush! here comes Mrs. Subtle and Grasp. When you, a stranger to me, can with difficulty restrain your indignation, what must be mine ? Willis, (aside.) My poor Marian! We must en- dure this yet awhile. Enter Mrs. Subtle and Grasp. ^ Jlrs. S. Now, sir, it is your hour for walking. I have brought you your hat and caue. 2 '14 PAUL PRY. [Poole. With. Ever attcntiVe, Mrs. Subtle ; thankye, thank- ye. Well, Grasp, have you got the fifty pounds I asked you for? Grasp. Yes; but I can't think whatjou want them for; I have been plag-ued enough to procure money for our regfular outlaying-s, and now — TVilh. That oug-ht not t(. be ; for surely I do not spend to the extent of ir.y incoma ; yet when I desire a smali sum for any private purpose, you pretend — Grasp. Do you suppose that I take your money ? TFith. No, Grasp, but — Grasp. You are for ever drawing- money for these idle uses. Five pounds for this poor family, ten for that — With. Well, well, you are an old servant, and I be- lieve faithfully attached to my interests; but I wishyoa would correct your manner. Mrs. S. Indeed, Mr. Grasp, yon should endeavour to moderate your tone ; to use more respect when you address our good master, {takes Withertoii's hand.) Our kind friend. With. Ah, Mrs. Subtle I you are a worthy creature ; and one of these days you may find i am not un;:!cratc- ful, {to Grasp, mildly.) Give that money to Willis; V shall direct him in the disposal of it. Grasp. I had better give up my accounts to him, my place. Till lately, it has been my business to manage your money affairs However, I have no notion of an interloper in the family, and either Mr. Willis, or I, must quit the house. Willis. Do not let me be a source of discord here, sir. •Mrs. S. (artfully interposing between Grasp and Witherton, who is ahotd to speak.) Now — now — indeed, Mr. Grasp — you are wrong- — [to him) You are going too far. {lo With.) Say nothing to him, sir; 1 will reprove' him for this misconduct by and b\'. With. But to treat me thus, and in the presence of Willis, too ! — Grasp, you will do as I desire. Willis, I must speak to you on my return. The day is fine, and a walk will do me good. Act /.] PAUL PRY. 15 Mrs. S. Will you be very, very much displeased, if I ©iFer you my arm to lean upon, sir ? TVith. Tbankye, Mrs. Subtle, thankye. Come. (Grasp goes tip and gives money to Willis, as they are going ojf- ) Enter Pry. Pry. Ha ! How do ye do this morning. I hope I don't intrude ? With. No, Mr. Pry, no. (aside.) How provoking' ! But have yoa any thinj^ particular to say to me, just now ? Pry. No; nothing- particular: only, as I have just been to fetch my umbrella, which 1 left last Monday to be mended — Monday — no ; it must have been — yes, Vm right, it was Monday ; 1 remember it, by a remarkable circumstance : Jkfrs. Jones sent a tray of pies to the Baker's — on a Monday, mind you. With And what was there remarkable in that, Mr, Try? Pry. Pies on a Monday ! She is not over rich, you know, and as I happened to know that she had Pies on Sunday ! pies two days following, for a person in her circumstances, did seem rather odd, you know. With. Well, that's no business of mine; and, if you have nothing — Pry. No ! only I thought that in my way back, I might as well drop in, and say how d'ye do. I say Mrs. Subtle — [she comes downL. H. corner.) you are a judge. I don't think this a dear job for one and nine-pence. — (opens his umbrella.) Mrs. S I must give him a broad hint, or we shall be pestered with the tedious fool for an hour. Mr. Pry, I beg pardon ; but Mr. Witherton was just going to take his customary walk. Pry. There is notliing so good for the health as walk- ing. — [goes up, brings down a chair in the centre^ and sits.) Mrs. S. There ! now he is fixed for the day. Pry. That is to say, walking in moderation. I ana 16 FAUL PRY. [Pook' a great walker mj'self ; I once brou£^ht on a fit of the gout by i : f did, alt hough some people would have it to be liOl'jiiij^ bin the rheumatiz. I have had the rheu- matiz too, aud kny. i ertaifly : if you are going down the road, I'll walk with you JVr*. S. But we are not, sir. [coming behceen Ihem.^ Pry, No matter; I'll walk with 30U the other way— I have nothing to do J\lrs. S. But we "have something to speak about. Pry All, ha ! Mrs. Subtle, vo- are a sly one. Whee- dle vourselr into the old gentleman's good graces, eh ^ Mrs. S. Sir ! ^ Pry. Weil, don't be aD!i;ry. I only spoke, you know. W-tfi. ( ome, Mrs. hrbtle, come, for we shall now get »id 01' him. Some other time 1 shall be glad to see you. Sir. — [Exeunt jVrs. S/Jdle and JVitkerton, L. H.) Pry. Thank ye, I'll drop in again, by and by : a plefis- at M alk. vVell, ivir VV lUis, and how do you do ? W'^' '■■'■'<. iN'ovr it is rnv turn. Fry I say, ^ arian, Mrs. Subtle's assistant is a very pretty j'jung woman : I s..\v you. last night, walking togeth^:r. hy the river si le — tiiough vou didn't see me. I folIoiicJ you for nearly half an hour. f^'a '<".*. Followed us ! Pn.'. ' ct uld not, for the life of me, make out what you wen talking about. Not difficult to guess, eh.'' — 1 do:it thi :ii ii would be quite tlie match for you, though. JViifin- Then lie does not .suspt-ot she is my wife ! Pry. After all, she is hut a sort of deputy house- ket'i-cr >r.! nn I told you beloMg to a respectable family. Tolerubl.' rcfipeciable, eh ? " Willis, i r. Faol Pr\ . iT you can make it appear that it conct-rns »ou a thoi sur.cth part o a straw to know» I'll write the history ot my birth, parentage and educa- Act /.] PAUL PRY, 17 tion, for your particular information. Good morniDg to you, Jlr. Pry. — [Exit. Pry. Good morning to you, Mr. Willis — that's an uncommon polite young- man- You are bring-ing- him up to succeed you, J suppose, eh, My. Grasp ? no bad thing neither: you must have a very comfortable place here. Grasp. Pretty well, as times g-o. Pry. Tho' from your master taking- this small house, economy is the order of the day, I take it, eh ? Grasp. You had better ask my master. Pry. No : he'd think it impertinent, perhaps. Bless you, it is no busijkesis 9£4n,ine only ; it appears odd — nei- ther chick nor child, aiid, whenever he dies, he'll cut up for a pretty round sum, eh — a hundred thousand — eighty, eh ? — and y'ou, you cunning- dog, I dare say, you have laid by a few thousands. IXovv, between ourselves, if it is not asking an impertinent question. Grasp. Not at all; (looks at his vxitch.) Exactly ten minutes past twelve : so, / wish you good morning. [E.xit. Pry. That's one of the strangest — (Jiooking about.) — - Well, /can't say it is very polite of them to leave me here alone, if / were the least of a bore noxv, it would be pardonable, but — {looks at his watch.) Well, it is only ten minutes after twelve, /declare. How long the day seems ! what shall /do till dinner time ? let me see ! /'ll just drop in at — [looking off.) Oho ! is it so ! aha, my young spark — trying t lie lock of colonel Hardy's garden gate ! That's very mysterious ! Egad, i'li soon find out what you want there (runnAng off and return- ing.) /had like to have gone without my umbrella. [Exit. SCENE in. — Colonel Hardy''s garden— Garden toall with door — Practicable house — Garden chairs — Lad- der against wing. Enter Phf.be from house. Phe. Oh dear ! oh dear ! — here's another fine day, and not a single cloud in the heavens to give me a hope 18 PAUL PRY [Poole, of tke rainy weather setting- in. Here, in this stupid villao^e, at fifty miles from London, have Miss Eliza and I been veg-etating- three eternal months and as the sky continues so vexatioush brig-lit, and the ba- rometer obstinately pointing- at " set fair " I see no chance of a speedy return to dear, delightful town. Heigho ! — This fine season will be the death of me. Enter Eliza, with a book, from, house, Eliza. Heigho, P/ie. Heigho ! — aye, that is the burthen of our me- lancholy song-. Eliza- VV hat day is this , Phebe ? Pke. Who can tell, Miss? Days are so much alike in this dull place, that it may be yesterday, or to-mor- row, for any thing' there is to mark the difference. Eliza. And has the country no charms for you, Phebe ? the spreadmg- folinge — the natural music of the birds — London cries — the sublime spectacle of the rising sun ? — Phc. Very fine, I dare say : but one must g-et up so early in the morning- to see it. Eliza. Early in the morning ? when else would you see the sun rise, Phebe? Phe. Going home from a masquerade, or a ball, late at night J>/iss. All that may be very pleasant to a romantic young lady like you, just returned from boarding school : but for my part, if indeed one had a little agreeable society here. Eliza. Well, and so we have : there's my Pa, there's JSIr. Paul Fry drops in sometimes Phe. Jlr P;iul Pry ! charming company indeed ! (vmnics him) "If it is'nt an mipertioent question." The last time he was here, he asked me such things that lealiy 1 Eliza. Then Jl/r. ^Fitherton comes to see us occa- sionally. Phe. IFhrn his housekeeper allows him. An old Twad- dler I r^o, miss, that is not the sort of society I mean. Ad /.] PAUL PRY. 19 Eliza. J^Fhat do you mean,Phebe ? Phe. A lover, m iss. Eliza. Oh fie ! {they rise) If my Pa were to hear jou talk so. Phe. And were you never in love, then ? Eliza. No, Phebe ; and my Pa, would be very an- gry if I were tofall in love without his leave. (aside) Vm afraid to trust her. Phe. (aside) TF\i:it a yea-nay, piece of innocence it is — well Jiiss. I have no Pa's to be ang-ry with me, and if a pretty young fellow were to fall in my way. Elica. Ha' done, Phebe, I must not hear you talk so: as to company, yon know my cousin Frank is com- ing- home from sea in about a week. We have not seea him since he was quite a boy, and he'll be company for us Phe. And how are we to amuse ourselves for a week? Eliza. We may read, work, or sing* Phe And when we are tired of that, to vary our amusement — we may singf, work, and read. Song, " The Lover'>s Mistake.'''* Ah me ! a country life is unfit for a single womau ; snd as my last mistress, I^ady Courtly, used to say, there are but three circumstances that can render it to- lerable to a married one. E'iza. And what are they ? Phe. Hedges very high ; ditches wide and deep ; and a husband passionately fond of hunting. [Ajlute heard behind loall. " Tel/ her T »ove ^er*"j El'zf{. ('ets her book droj)) Oh dear me ! Phe. What's that ? Eliza That- Phebe ! I suspect it is nothing but ^ flute — (aside) I am sure that is his signal. How im- prudent for him to come down here. Phe. Nothing but a flute. Now as flutes don't usu- tilly play of themselves, I suspect it must be sometliing more. Eliza. Well, Phebe, I — Pll confide my secret to JOU ; but you won't betray me. It is my Harry ^ 20 PAUL PRY. [Poole Phe. So then, Miss Innoceace, you have a Harry of your own. Weli done, upoo iiy word And who is your ',-iarry ? El)Z:i. Barry Stanley, a lieutenant in the navy. Pile. And where coul(i you have become acquainted with him i You have not been from under your father's ey? siiice you weva at boarding school ; and Eliza, There it was. Phebe ; he used to come there to see his sister tlarriet ; and, one day, we fell in love with each other. Pke. ,Jaj.glving) -'■ Oh fie, Phebe, if my Fa were to hear you talk so :■" and pra^ an't you ashamed to fall in love without your Pa's leave.'' Eliza. iNo. Fliebe. for lie's very young', and vciy handsome. He's only eig-hieen. Phe. Now, miss, let me give you a word of serious advice. 1 won't betray your secret, I promise you : but let me recommend you to mention it yourself to yonr father ; and if the young gentleman should prove a suitable match for }'OU — 1 daresay Eliza. Doij^l speak of that. — I dare not for the world. First of all, you know my Pa has siome other marriage in view for me; and then he is so passionate and pe- remptory Phe. And as abrupt and absolute as if he were com- manding his regiment. Bless me, here he comes. Eliza. If my Harry should repeat the signal; we shall be discovered. Enter Ha\{.x)\ from house. H'trdf/,. Eliza, my dear, 1 expect company to-day. Eliza, Do you, pa.'' Hardy. iVly neighbour Witherton, and a young gen- tleman 1 expect from London to-day. He is the hus- band 1 mteod lor }ou. You'll be married in a week. jUiza. i?o soon , Pa .-* Hardy. Aye. and sooner if by chance m}^ nephev/ Frank should return. I dare say Frank is grown a gi- ant. [ long to ^ee the boy : I have not seen him since he was nine years old. 'Act I:] PAUL FRY. _ 1^1 Phe. But I believe, sir, my young lady has never seen the young- gentleman you intend for her husband ? Hardy. What of that ? she is no worse off than I am. I have not seen him. His father writes me word that he has a son, who is a prodigy. I reply, that my daughter is a miracle : the marri-ige is concluded on, and who dares say any thing against it? Do you, or do you? Nobody has any thmg to say against it So much the better all parties must be perfectly satisfied. {Takes Eliza's hand ) That's a good obedient girl. Phe. (.ysidr) Oh! the sulky thing! I have not pa- tience with her. Beg pardon, sir ; but suppose — I mere- ly say, suppose— Miss Eliza should happen not to love your intended son-in-law? Hardy. What then ? what is love ? what has love to do with it ? Did I marry her mother for love ? yet we were very happy together ; at least I can speak for my- self. I was happy when I married her — happy whilst she lived — happy nh^n she died; and I've been happy ever since, and tliat's worth all the love in the universe. Phe. Some folks may not be of your way of thinkino-, sir. ' '^ Hardy. Think, indeed, you saucy baggage! what do you mean by thinking ? I allow nobody in my house to th\nk. I am not like old JFitherton ; I expect obedi- ence : so obey all of y(»u d'ye hear ? Eliza. But Pa, if 1 might enquire the gentleman's name Phe There's an effort. Hardy. Hey day ! a mutiny in the regiment. If you had not asked, perhaps I'd have told you ; now you shall know nothmg about it; you shall not know who he is, till you are under the hands of the parson. If you provoke me further, you shall marry him blindfold. My be, never know who he is. But I perceive what .his is, (to Phebe). It is you who have been putting hese higb romantic notions about loving a husband into ny girl's head. Phe, Desiring to know who her husband is ta be> is PA.UL PR If. [Poole. mig-hty romantic truly. It, indeed, now she was to en- tertain a secret passion for some ardent youth who should serenade her by moon-light. Hardy. She ! she pVesume to fall in love without my consent. Look at her, bless her innocent heart. I tell you what, Mrs. Phebe, if I hear any more— but what was that you said about serenading: ? That reminds me —who was that playing the flute under my garden-wall just now ? Phe. How should we know, sir? most likely some bird-catcher decoying- the thrushes. Hardy. Thrushes, indeed ! No, no, it was not the thrushes he was decoying. Some flirtation of your's, / dare say, and /won't allow it. Phe'. Mine indeed, sir ! / am no more capable of such a thing- than my young lady herself. Hardy- Say no more on the subject. It is setting a bad example to mv daughter, and / won't allow it, I tell you Come in with me, my dear ; and hark'ye, Mrs. Phebe, your bird catcher had better take care I don't catch him. (As he is goin^, a stone with a fetter attack- ed to it, is thrown over the wall.) ^Fhat's that ? Eliza. Oil Phebe, what will become of me .? Hardy. What's that I say ^ Phe. That, sir, why cant you see what itis .' A stone some idle bov has thrown over the wall- Hardy. I say you idle boy. how dare you throw stones? why there's a "letter lied to it. Stand out of the way, and let me have it. No address. Phe. [aside.) That's fortunate. Give it to me, sir, it is mine. Hn-dy. Your's, is it ? we shall soon see that, vv tiy what a scrawl— and in pencil too. (rends.) " Loveliest of vour sex" Phe. There, sir, 1 told vou, it was addressed to me. Hardy. You, indeed, you ugly little monkey, are you the loveliest of your sex .'' ^d L] PAUL PRY. 23 Phe. 'Tis quite clear, it is not for you, sir ; so give it me. Hardy. Will somebody stop that girl's tongue ? Let me be (reads) " Persuaded, you would recoe^nize the signal, and attend to it, I had determined to scale the garden wall, but am prevented by an impertinent fellow, who is watching my movements. An inter- view is indispensable, as I have something of the deep est importance to communicate. Waen he is gone, I will return. Has your father" (your father !) '' any suspicion of our mutual attachment ? Your eternally de^'oted — ." No signature ; so, the case is evident, (to Eliza.) Now, Miss Timidity, you with your demure looks — you, who have never an answer beyond *' yes Pa" and " no Pa," and can scarcely say ''Boo to a goose " what can you find to say to this ? Answer me- who is this bird-catcher of yours ? speak, I say. Eliza, /ndeed Pa, / - Phe. Dout answer, miss, if you have any secret of your own ; you may do as you please about it, but you have no right to divulge mine. Hardy. Your's ! Don't attempt to deceive me. Her looks convict her.* Besides, am not / her father men- tioned here ? Pile. No sir, it is my father. Hardy. Your father ! How the devil came you by a father ? who ever heard of your father ? Phe. /imagine /have as good a right to a father as my betters ; at any rate, that letter is mine. The ap- pointment was with me ; and if you was twenty times my master /would protest against your compe- tency to intercept my correspondence. Hardy. Why zounds ! here's a chambermaid talking like a member of parliament. But /'li presently come to the truth of this, and if /find you to blame {to Eliz.) /'il lock you up on bread and watcv, till you are mar- ried: and your husband shall do the same by you for the rest of your life afterwards. But hov/ to proceed .' /have it. The fellow, whoever he is, intend* to return ; 24 PAUL pRTTc [Poole, no doubt he is still lurking- about. Stay you where you are, don't move, and if either of you utter a sound, or give the slightest signal, wo be to you. [Places a lad- der against the wall, mounts, and looks cautiously over) Eliza. Phebe, Phebe, my poor Harry will be disco- vered, and what are we to do then ? Phe. ^Fhat indeed. Miss, ! but it is your own fault, /f you had admitted me to your confidence, Jcould have managed matters much better, / promise you. Hardy. [Descending.) I hdive him : there he is crouch- ing on the ground with his eye at the key-hole. He shall find me a more expert bird-catcher than himself: — for I'll catch him first ; and hang me, but VW salt his tail for him afterwards. [Hardy suddenly opens the gar- den gate, and discovers Pry, in the attitude described. He drags him in. Door in JVnlL Hardy. I have you, you villian. Come in, and let me hear what you have to say for yourself ; who are you i* J^hat do you want here ? Eliza. {'0 Phebe.) Why, 'tis Mr. Pry. Phe. Then we are safe. Hardy. Speak, / say, who are you .'' Pry. You know /can't speak if yo« choke me. Hardy. I have something worse than choking for you — who are you .'* Pry. Why don't you know me ? — Mr. Pry, Paul Pry. Hardy. And so it is : so then, you arc the bird-catcher you rascal. Pry. Bless you, no, Pm no bird-catcher, I'm Hardy. And it is thus you abuse my hospitality ? Is it for this you are constantly dropping in ^ Confess the truth, or you shall drop down in where you little expect before you are five minutes older. Pry. What is it you mean ? Hardy. Is it the mistress or the maid ? Pry. Are you out of your senses ? Hardy. You think I am in the dark; but I'll con- vince you I have detected your intrigue, [shoivs the sto)ie.) What's this? Act /.] ^ PAUL PRr. 25 Prr/. That! Hardy. N^o equivocation. What is it? Prij. W y, I should take it to be a stoue. Hirdy. Oh, you confess that. And what's this? {^shou's the notp.) Pry It looks like a note. Hardy. A note ! very well ! Bat I have not done with you yet. You have other proofs about you. {search- es his pocket.) What have you done with your flute ? Pry. What have you done with your senses? Phe. I wonkier \ou are not ashamed of yourself, Mr. Pry, to send letters to me, and compromise a young woman's reputation as you have done. Pry. I — upon my life, 1 never compromised a young woman, smce the day I was born. Phe. [making s-igns to him.) if you mean honourable towards me, sneak to my father, ottierwise your playing the flute is but playing the fool, that I can tell you. Pry. Oh 1 perceive. You mistake, me for the young man 1 surprised here just now. Hanly. What — what — ayoiiog man — then it was'at you Pry. Lor 1, no. I'll tell you all about it. Hardy Do then, and be quick. Phe. Devil take the cliatt^ring booby. Pry. You must know 1 was coming from Mr. With- therton's, w.iere 1 !iad just dropt in to ask him how his tooth was — now that's very provoking, I forgot to ask him, after all. Hardy. Never mind the tooth now — get on with you» story. Pry. And just as I was turning the corner. I per* ceived a young man preparing to climb your wall. The instant l)e saw me, away he run — oho ! thinks I — Hardy. Oh, the tiresome — In a word then, he has es- capf^d Pry. He ran away, as I said — and that's all I know of the matter. Hardy. And what were you doing there ? 26 PAUL PRY, [Pook. Pry. Eh, why, to tell you the truth, I heard a talk- ing here ; and as I could not make out what the meaning of it all was, and one is naturally anxious to know, you know, I just took the liberty to put my ear to the key- bole, then I put my eye. {puts his hand to his eye.) Thfire again ! I shan't be able to see out of this eye for a week. I hate those plaguy small key-holes, the wind comes through them like a needle. Hardy. So then you confess that you have been eaves- dropping about mj house. Not content with coming in- side perpetually to see what is going forward, you must go peeping, and peeping about outside. Hark^e, Mr. Pry. you are a busy, meddling, curious, imfiertinent — Pry. It is not genteel to call names. Indeed, I think you ought to be obliged to me for the discovery. Hardy. And what have you discovered ? But it is your way. You never get hold of a story, but you take it at the wrong end. But for your busy interference, the fellow would have carried his intention into execu- tion, and then I should have had him. Pry. Well, I did it for the best ; but if ever I do a good-natured thing again I Hardy. 'Tis clear there is something going forward. (to Eliza and Phehe.) But now that my suspicions are excited. I'll watch you closely, and if I find you con- cerned in it Eliza. Indeed, Pa *■ Hardy. Well, well, I'm not to be deceived, so be- ware. As to you, you imp of mischief, I'll answer for it, you are in the plot, whatever it is. Phe. That is ihe rule in those cases, the mistress can do no wrong; so we, poor ministers of waiting-womea, are made the scape-goats. Hardy, {to Eliza and Phebe.) You get in- [ Exeunt Eliza and Phehe. {to Pry.) And 3'ou get out. {opens the door.) Pry. This is a mysterious aliair — most mysterious. I shan't sleep a wink 'till I've discovered what it is all about. ^IctL] PAUL PRY. 27 Hardy. Are you coming', sir ? Pry. Beg pardon, colonel, I wish you a very g-ood morning-. [Exit Fry. Hardy. Good morning-, good morning ! The med- dling- blockhead. Can this have been an assignation with my daughter ? No, no, she is too innocent, too artless : 'tis some love affair of Phebe's, no doubt. How- ever, I'll have an eye on both of thera. (a loud Hng at the bell.) Who's that, / wonder? {opens the do(,r and* Pry appears.) Beg pardon ! I forgot my umbrella, that's all. Hardy. Plague take you, and your umbrella. {ExeunU END OF ACT I. ACT II. SCENE I. — A Room at Witheeto:<'s. JTwftT Willis R. H. MapiAx\ L. H. ihrough open window. Willis. Yet a little forbearance, dear Marian, and all will be well. Marian. Would our fate were decided, for even in my assumed character, I find it difficuU to endure the tyranny and indolence of Mr.s. Subtle. The struggle is severe between the affected submission of ihe sup- posed dependant, and the real indignation of the wife of Edward Soniers. Willis. I too have a difficult part to play This mornins I nearly betr:«yed myself to my unele. His reproaches of me, undeserved as they were, I listened to unmoved ; but when he would have censured you — fortunately at that moment we were interrupted, so our secret is still secure. 28 PAUL PRY. [Poole» Marian. Upon th^- whole, Edward, I cannot but consider this scheme of our friei d Colonel Haid^'s as lather a wild one. Willis. Yet hiiherto it has succeeded. Here as a stranger, and in the chdiacter orahnnible companion, I have won fionj ni> uncle that ailection, which ilie intrigues of an artful woman have diverted fioni ioe as his nephew : you also are no little favoniiie with him. Thus the main point is gained by the aestruc- tioa of a prejudice unfavourable to us. Maria.t. Wh-it more have you dibcovered of Grasp and Mrs. Subtle.? Willis. Sufficient to confirm our suspicions that let- ters, from and to me, have been intercepted by them. I have reason, too, to believe that Mrs Subtle's grand project is a marriage with my uncle ; by the influence she would thus obtain over him, our ruin would be ac- complished. Marian And are there no means of preventing their marriai^e ? Willis. I fear it will be difficult, when the affections of a solitary old man, a slave like iiiin to circumstances, and habit, are once entangled in the snares of a wily woman, it is no easy task to disengage them. But here she and my uncle come. We — must not be seen to- gether. Ha ' 'tis too late — they are here. Enter Witherton, leaning on Mrs. Subtle'? arm. L. H. Mrs. Sub. Gently, sir, gently. ( To Marian ) What are yon doing here.'' Why are you not in your own apartment ? Marian. I — I was merely talking to Mr. Willis ma'am. Mrs. Sub Leav« the room. With. Speak mildly to her, my good Mrs. Subtle consider — she is young and timid. , Act II.] PAUL TRY. ^0 Mrs. Suh. Young and timid indeed .' ffith. Go, njy dear, Mrs. Subtle is d little serere in manner, but she means well. Marian. I obey you. sir. Mrs. Sub. [In an under tone.) Obey me, or count not on a long continuance here, begone! [Exit Ma- RrAiHf.) I^eave her to me, sir, {to WiTHr rton.) 1 un- derstand these matters best; [to Willis, in a gentle tone ;) and you, Mr. Willis, to encourage a forward chit like tliat — ^Fm astonished at you. Willis. Indeed you mistake me. Mrs. Sub. No matter, leave us. With Be within call, Willis, I would speak with you presently. Willis. I will, -sir. [Exit R. H. 2 E. Mrs Subtle brings a chair forward for Witherton, who seats himself L. H. of Mrs. Subtle. With. That girl is a favourite of mine Mrs. Subtle, in her way — in her way I mean. She was strongly recommended to me, by my friend Colonel Hardy, and I am sorry you have conceived so strange an antipa- thy against her. Mrs. Sub. And lam surprised you are so strongly attached to her. Do you know, I am almost — I had nearly said a foolish word — ^jealous of her. Witherion. Je;;lous ! Now Mrs. Subtle, you would banter me. But now we are alone, and secure from interruption, tell me what it is, you would consult me upon — oiice whilst we were out, you were on the point of speaking when we were intruded on by that med- dling blockhead Mr, Pry. Mrs. Sub. Oh 'tis nothing, sir, a trifle. With. Yon cannot deceive me : something sits hea- vily at your heart; explain the cause of it — you know me for your friend, your sincere friend ; come, speak freely. so PAUL PRY. [Poole, Mrs. Suh. Well then, sir, since T never act in any importdnl matter, but by your direction. I vu>Mld a>k your advice in this, of ail others,, the — most important. ffith. Go on. Mrs. Sub. Mr. Grasp, who has long been attentive to me, has at length become importunate for my de- cision on the question of marriage. Witherton. Marriage! Take a chair Mrs. Subtle, take a chair. [She sits.) Mrs Sub. Yes, sir. Hitherto I have never dis- tinctly accepted, nor have I rejected the offer of his hand ; wearied at length by my indecision, he has this morning insisted on knowing iny intentions, one way or the other. mth Well, well. Mrs. Sub. It is a serious question ; my mind is still unsettled ; my heart alas! takes no part in the question. How would you advise me, sir? H'ith. Heally Mrs. Subtle, I was so little prepared for such a communication, that I hardly know — Grasp is an honest man — a very honest man. Mrs. Sub. He is a very honest man, yet my own experience has tauiiht me, that a very honest man may be a very — very bacf husl)and. Tlien altho' I allow Mr. Giasp to be a very well meaning man— his temper — ff'itk. That is none of the host, certainly. Mrs. Sub. His manners too — not that I believe he would willingly offend, are offensive. Even you, I fear have observed that, for he has frequently addressed you in a mode, which my affection — I would say, my respect for you. have induced me to reprove. Jf'itk. He does not lack urbanity, I grant. Mrs. S%ib. And to me, that is intoler;ible, for not- withstanding my situation here, I can never forget that lam the daughter of a gentleman. Then his taste and habits differ from mine. Act II.] PAUL PRY. 51 With. These are important objections, Mrs. Subtle, considering that your first husband was, as you huve told me — Mrs. Sub Speak not tome of him, sir, for that reminds me of one of the bitterest periods of my life ; yet spite of Mr. Subtle's ill usajje of me, 1 never once forgot the duly and obedience of a wife ; hut he was young, vain, fickle, and I am too late convinced that it is not till a mat) is soniewhal advanced in life — till his sentiujents and habits are formed, and fixed, that he can thoroughly appreciate the value of a wife's af- fection, or so regulate his conduct, as to insure her happiness, and his own. TFith. That is a very sensible retnark, Mrs Subtle. Mrs. Sub. My fathet was an evidence to the truth of it, sir. My father was nearly sixty when he mar- ried Hith. Indeed ! your own father ? '•Mrs. Sub. Ay, sir, and he li' ed to the g;ood old age of eighty-seven. But he was happy, and enjoyed a. contented mind. How tenderly my poor mother loved him. With. What was her age ? Mrs Sub. When she married him, about mine, sir, I believe it was the conreajplnrion of the picture of their felicity, so constantly before my eyes, that con- firmed my natural disposition for the quiet of domes- tic life. Ah, had I been fortunate in the selection of a partner-- TVith. Much — every thing, depends on that, and I think that Grasp is not altogether — he is not at all the husband for you. Mrs. Sub So my heart tells nie, sir — vet, when I quit vonr house, would you have me live alone? with- out a (jfotector ? With. How ! quit my house ! 32 PAUL PRY. [Poole. Mrs. Suh. Alas, that raust I — wjiether I accept his proposal or not. Yet let not that distress you, sir, for 1 doubt not — I hope, that when I am gone, my place ma) bt supplied by soine one equally attentive to your comforts, your happiness. fi'ith. Do 1 hear aright? Quit my house, and wheretoie? Mrs. Sub. I hardly know in what v»ords to tell you ; and, after all, perhaps you will say 1 am a silly woman to regard such idle slanders — who can control the tongue of scandal ? My care of you, my attentions, my unceasing assiduities, become the subject of re- mark, and — but I had resolved not to mention this to you; my unwearied attention to you, which is the re- sult of mere duty — of friendship — perhaps of a sis- terly affection, is said to spring from a deeper — 'A varmei' source — With. And were it so, dear Mrs. Subtle, are we ac- couiiiable to a meddling world — Mrs. Suh. Ah, sir, you — a man, strong in the recti- tude of your conduct, master of your own actions, master of your own actions I say, and independent of the world, may set at nought its busy slanders. But I, an humble, unprotected woman — no, the path of duty lies straight before me, I must give my hand where I feel I cannot bestow my heart, and for ever quit a house where 1 have been but too happy. fVith. Nay, by heaven, but you shall nor, must your happiness be sacrifued ? mine too? Ay, mine. Mrs. Sub. [Rifies.) Hold, sir, say no more. Do not prolong a delusion »»hich 1 am endeavom ing to dispel. If 1 have unwarily betrayed to you a secret, which I hare scarcely dared to trust even to my own thoughts; if I have foolishly mistaken the kindness of a friend, for a mote tender scnlitnent, forgive my presumption and forgive her, who, but for the lowliness of her sta- Act II.] PAUL PRY. ' 8S tion, might, as an affectionate and devoted wife, have administered to)o!ir happiness ; who, coi.-scious of her own unwoithiness, must soon uehold )ou for tlie last time. fFith Stay, dearest Mrs, Subtle*, and listen to your friend, your best and truest friend. First |.romise me, that here you will remain. Mrs. Sub. But vou have not yet advised me respect- i^g Mr. Grasp's proposal, and 1 have promised him an imniedirtie reply. fVith. A'tend to what I am about to say, and then, dearest Mrs. Subtle, let yuur ouu heart dictate )our choice Mrs. Suh. {Aside.) 'Tis done ! fi ith Were 1 longer to hesirate I should be negli- gent otiny oun liiippiness, and unjust towards your merits; for if an att.u hinent, h^ng and severely tried, were not of itself siifficient to warrant me in — [A knock at the door.) , Mrs. Sub. [As M'ilher ton starts up.) Curse on the intenupiion, when but another word hud compromised my hopes. Enter F AVI. Pry, L. H. Pry. Oh. ha, I see, billing and cooing — I hope I don't intrude. Mis Sub. You do, sir. Pry. Wv II, 1 Hin veiy sorry, but I came to show you the county Chronicle, tiiere is something in it i thought miglit interest you ; two columns full about a prodi- gious gooseberry, grown by Mrs. Netilebed at the Pri- ory. Most curious ; shall I read ii to vou. With. No, you are very good. {Turns up impa^ tiently.) Pry. I perceive I am one too many Well now, upon my life, (whispers her,) if 1 had entertained the smallest idea — 34 ^AUL PRt. [Poole. Mrs. Suh. What do you mean, sir ? Pry. Bless you, I see things with half an eye: but never lear me, I'm as close as wax. Now I say, Mrs. Subtle, between ourselves — it shall go no farther — there is something in the wind, eh .'' Mrs Sub. I don't understand you. Pry. Well, well — you are right to be cautious; only I have often thought to myself it would be a good thing for both of you — lie is rich — no one to inlierit his foi^ lune, and by all accounts, you have been very kind to him, eh ? Mrs. Sub. Sir ! Pry. I mean no harm, but take my advice, service is no inheritance, as ihey say. Do you look to num- ber one ; take care to feather your nest. You are still a young woman, under forty, I should think, thirty- eight now — there — or thereabouts, eh ? Mrs. Sub. My respect for Mr. Witherton forbids me to say that his friend is impertinent. With. This intrusion is no longer to be borne. (Comes down L. H. of Pry.) Have you any particular business with me, sir? Pry. Yes, you must know, I've seen a young fellow lurking about your ftiend Hardy's house, and I suspect there is something not right going forward in his fa- j mily. PFith. That is his business, not mine, sir. i Pry. True, but I have been thinking that as you j are his friend, it would be but friendly if you were just' ' to drop in, aiid talk to him about it. With. That is my business, and not yours. Pry. I don't say the contrary, but at all events, Pm , determined to keep watch over — jj fVilh. That is your business, therefore you may do ' as you please; yet let me suggest to you, that this un- happy propensity of yours to meddle in matters which Act II.] PAUli PRY. 85 do not concern you, may one day or other produce very mischievous effects. Pry. Now 1 take that unkindly ; what interest have I in trying to do a good-natured thing ^ am I ever a gainer by it ? But I'll make a vow that from this lime forward I'll never interfere. Hush ! there he is again ; will you do me a favour ? just allow me to go out this way. With. Any way out you please. Pry. I'll {^ive the alarm, and if I let him escape me this time — Follow ! follow ! follow ! {Exitj Flat cen- tre.) {Harry Stanley runs on at the back.) Harry. Confound him ! the same officious booby again. Pry. [Without.) Now, my lively spark, I'll have you. Harry. Egad, you shall run for it then. [Runs off^ Pry after him. R. H.) With. What can be the meaning of all this? That busy fellow's interruption has thrown all my ideas into •confusion. Mrs. Sub. Be composed, sir, take a chair, and let us resume — Enter Grasp — abruptly, R. H. Well, what is it you want, Mr. Grasp ? Grasp. You ! Wi^h. Mrs. Subtle is engaged just now. Grasp. No matter, she must conie with me, I have sometliingto saylo her. Mrs. Sub. I'll come to you presently. Grasp. You must corne at once. I am not to be made a dupe — come. Mr. Willis is waiting to see you in the library, sir — now, Mrs. Subtle, if you please. {Exit R. H.) With. Return quickly, dear Mrs. Subtle, and pro- mise nothing till you have again cousuUed me. Pp PAUL PRY. [Poole. 3Trs. Suh. I will obey yon, sir; you soe how easily we })'>or weak women are diverted fioin our better re- solutions- {Exit JViiherton, R. H.) He is mine. What can have angered Grasp ? near as are my schemes to their completion, yet might one word from that man destroy them all. Has he over- heard us? Does he suspect what is my project? I must contrive still to evade him, till [have made With- erion securely mine. Then let hun do his uorst. {Exit R. H.) SCENE n.— .4 Room at Hardy' s —Door R. H. s. Elizc 'fit should really be my poor Harry, and my Pa should discover him. Phe. Mcvcy on us all, and now tiiat his suspicions are awakened, and his anger excited by this morn- ing's adventure, he wdl be less tractable tlian. ever. ( Cries of " follotv ! folloic /" ) JEnter Henry Stanley at the ivindow, L. H Sd E. Harry. Anv port in a siorm. {Comes down L. H.) So here I ;im. What, my sweet little Eliza here! this is beyond my hopes. Eliza. Oh, Mr. Stanley, how could you be so im- prudent ? Harry. Now, my dear, sweet, pretty little Eliza, don't be angry with me — allow me a minute to recover Act 11.'] PAUL PRY, ^1 breath, and I'll tell jou all about it. This run has been a breather. Phe. What a pretty little fellow he is. I should have no objection to just such another little lover for myself. Eliza. But tell mequiciily, how came you here.^ Harry. By no very smooth path, I promise you. By scaling a twelve foot wall, leaping across a canal, clniibing an apple-tree, and so in at a first floor win- dow. Eliza. But why venture to come into the house 5> Hurrif. Why ? once over the garden wall, egad, I had no time to choose : my manoeuvre was detected by that same prying scoundrel, uho pievented our inter- view this morning. Let him fall in mv way, and I'll snip his ears for him. He gave the alarm, and in an in- stant every servant in the place, to the very dairy-maid was m full chace of me. I flew like a skiff before the wind, and cleared the canal at a leap. None of my pursuers could weather that point; so finding myself a few minutes ahead of them, and perceiving that win- dow open, I made all sail for it as my only chance of ©scape, and here I am. Phe. You have escaped with a vengeance. Do you know, sir, where you are ? Harry. In the presence of my darling little Eliza and where else could I be so happy ? Eliza. Did you hear that Phebe ? Phe. Pooh ! nonsense— we are all on the very brink of rum, and there he is quietly talking about being happy. You must instantly quit this place,— so get out how you can. ( Goes up to the windoiv.) Harry. No, no, I have had so much trouble to get m, that I'll not get out again 'till I have explained my errand. ^ 38 I'AUL PRY. [Poole. Eliza- What Phebe says is true, if my Pa should come. JI1H-- . Phe (Comes forward) They are on a wron« scent, so you are safe foi a few minutes, but speak quickly. Harry. First tell me, when do you expect your cousin Frank ? Eliza. Not for a week. . Harri/ That will be too late ; as Frank, who is my old shipmate and friend, would have interceded for us with vour father. Phe. But since he is not here, what next do you propose ? Harry. Boldly to ask the Colonel's consent. Phe. Which he will refuse. Harry. So I expect, and I am prepared accordingly. Now I have a most important question to ask you. Pray ladies, are you fond of travelling ? Eliza. What an odd question ! Harry. I have just seen in Doubledol s yard the prettiest yellow post-chaise in the world, [puts his arm round their waists.) It will just hold ns three as comforta- bly as if it had been made for us. We clap four horses to it, visit the blacksmith, get married, and then let our pa's unmarry us, if they can. Eliza. Lord ! Harry, that would be running away, and I must not think of such a thing. Phe. Oh, thai somebody would make me such an ot- {cr. Hariy. Punning away ! look at me, I've just been running away, and I'm nothing the worse for it. Eliza. You ! ^ , , i Harry. I had scarcely arrived at my father's house when the old gentleman told me of some dowdy of his own choosing, whom he intended 1 should marry. I ventured a respectful remonstrance, he swore I should marrvher; if I do, sir, says I, I'll be {Phebe stops hismoidh.) So I cut sliort the argument by mounting a Borse and galloping down here. Phe, Then I'd advise you to remount him and gallop Act IL] PAUL PRY. 39 home ag-ain. for my youngs lady is in a pre'0" are forgiven, fa-m/e^ Shall have him asking pardon of all the maids in fh^ house. Now, Frank, I 'have news for vou Eliza s soon to be married. ^ J^iiza is Hat^ry. x\Tarried, sir? Hardy. Married, aye, married. I was resolved to leferjl^ceremony'tii your return. So now you are Harry. Thnt was very kind; and whenever Eliza names, you may be sure I will be at the wedding. And >ray, sir, wlio is the happy man > ^ ici^rt: J'"''/' '^'' ''^""- ^^"°"'' ^"d ^hat IS suf. icient lor ail parties. Harry. Certainly, sir; but pray does my cousin love f^rdy Ko, but she may if she likes. I'm not one f those yrannical fathers who vvould control the aifec tons of their duidren. iNo, no, I leave my dauglUer oL" distress 01 her inchnations; free either to love her hus and, or to leave it alone, as she thinks best? f 46 PAUL PRY» [Poole- Harry, How indulgent a parent. Now suppose, sir, I should" object to vour arranon carries all before it— but if men wont attend to their business— (co7//i/5 a 5f«re. ) Two and twenty. Upon my life, it is very discreditable to run sucn a score at a public house :— who can it be ? marked with an S-s. I'll lay my life it is Mrs. Sims-that wo- «jan owes money at every shop in the vilii;ge. Doubledot speaks without. Double. This way, sir, if you please. Pry. Oh, at last. A traveller with him— I wonder who he 13. « Enter Doubledot and Frank Hardy. . ^"uble.(rery obsequiously atjirst, but gradualti^ relaxing: m hismitjj.) This way, sir-will you please to take any thing after your journey I Frank. No, nothing. Double. Will you order your dinner now sir > • . ?u"^; ^ ^^^^^ """^ "^'"^ ^'^^^•- Let my lu-gage be broH in.o the house, and remain here for the present. Double. Ah ! u precious customer. A glass' of water and a tooth pick, (aside.) , Pry- I say Doubledot -a good quantity of In^srarrg for one person. He is alone. Do you happen to knSw" who Double. No— but you very soon will, PU answer for f TP ' f Frank. Now to proceed to my good old uncle's. After nj absence of so many years, I shall scarcely be rero^^niz- =a by hrni. As for Eliza, who was a mere child at the pr- 10(1 ol my departure— ' -^ 50 PAUL PRX. [Poo/Cj Pry. Pleasant journey, sir ? Frank. Very pleasant, sir. I Pry. From London, sir ? { Frank. No, sir. ' Pry. O, not from London. Stay long in these parts, sir ? Frank. Quite uncertain, sir. — A tolerably inquisitive fellow this. Pry. Shy — don'tlike him — something mysterious about him. I'm determined to find out who he is. Beg pardon sir, if I'm not mistaken, your name is — a — Frank. You are right, sir, Snooks. Now sir, allow me to ask you a question. Is it far hence to Col. Hardy's? Pry. Oh, you know him ! Do you happen to know his \ nephew who has just come ho.ne from sea .'' Frank. Come — coming, you mean. Pry. Jome, I tell you. He arrived this morning. Frank. What, his nephew, Frank H\rdy? Pry. The same. 1 saw him with my own eyes. Come in a very odd way too. {aside.) The intelligence appears to perplex him. Frank, (aside.) What can this mean ? — a person there assuming my name ! Doubtless soini- piece of roguery is ! intended, which my timely arrival may prevent. I'll find i some future pretence for visiting the family as a stranger, and ob^erve what is going forward before I declare myself. Pry. (aside.) An adventurer. Frank. The colonel, I believe, sir, enjoys a rcputatioQ for hospitality. Do you imagine he would refuse the visit of a stranger ? — a gentleman travelling for his pleasure, ■who wishes to be favoured with a view of his grounds — his pictures. Pry. (hes Hating;.) No s\r.— (aside.) A travelling gen- tleman — the case is clear. Frank. There is no time to be lost, sir. I must be plain with you It is my intention to pay colonel Hardy a visit ; the object of that visit is important, and that it may succeed, the utmost secrecy and cauiionare requisite. Pry. Indeed ! (aside.) Very cool upon my word. Frank. To use your own expression, " beg pardon if I am mistaken" — but you appear to me to be one of those i Act HI. ] , PA1EJL PRY. 5^ good-natured, inquisitive, officious persons, who abound in such places as this. Now if you mention to any soul breathiu^that you have seen me, you may have cause to repent your indiscretion. {Exit. Pry. Sir, yours. Not the shadow of a doubt what sort of a gentleman he is. Yet he looks like a °;entleman — but what of that, every pick pocket now-a-days is des- cribed as a ymith of prepossessing appearance, and every disorderly woman (alcea before a magistrute, is sure to be young and interesting. IVow, what ought I to do in this case ^ I hate to interfere with other people's business.—* Yet in a matter like this — I'll take a short cut to the house, be beforehand with the travelling gentleman, put the colonel on his guard, and for once force him to ac- knowledge the value of my services. {Exii. SCENE ^d.—At Hardfs. Same as in Act 2d. Enter Hardy, Marian, and Willis. Hardy. What! mirry his housekeeper ! marry another subtle ! The old fool ! The old dotard ! Oh, that I were his father for one quarter of an hour, that I might enjoy the paternal gratification of breaking every bone in his body. Willis. Fortunately the evil is not yet accomplished, and your interference may prevent it. Hardy . But how did you learn this ? Willis. My suspicions long existing of such an intention •were confirmed by a desperate altercation between Grasp and Mrs. Subtle, which I have just had the good fortune to overhear. Grasp having detected her schemes upon my uncle, and enraged at her duplicity towards himself, threatened, even at the peril of his own ruin, to expose the intrigues she had so long carried on against me. Mrs. Subtle, presuming on her strong influence over Mr. With- erton, scoffed at his menaces, dared him to do his worst, and defied him to the proof of his accusation, till Grasp, hinting at certain letters which unknown to her he had preserved, she instantly moderated her haughty tone, pro- mised compliance with any arrangement he might propose, and once more I believe they are friends. 52 PAUL PRY. [Poole. Hardy. Friends I accomplices you mean. But let 'me see, what's to bo done? First do you return both of you, and— Manan. I wish that could be avoided. Mrs. Subtle alre.tdy as«ume5 (he mistress, and has expressed her de- tei iiin ttion to dismi-s'me, and — Hiirdy. Thnt will do. You shall take her at her word. Yv: jhall remain concealed here for awhile; egad, and so :'h\\\ you, Somers. JVi.Uis. To what purpose ^Ir? liar. Leave it to me. 'Tis here, His here, {striking his forehead.') Go in my study; there you wdl be free fro.n oh.^ervition, no one dares 40 there without my leave. I'll coine 'o yTu presently, and dictate a letter you shall send to Withertoo, which, if it does not bring him to his senses, he is incorriirible. JVulis. How shall we thank you for the interest you take .n our behalf? HiT. By leavin* me to myself for a few minutes. I hav« ray hand-> full of business already, ]leve is a letter I havp just, reco v d from an old friend, relative to a run- away -01 of 111? ! then there's my nephew Frank,who is returned. But 2:0, go — if my daui<-hter, or her chatter- ing maid, should see you her*.' together, 1 would not give you live minutes purchase for your secret. Mar. Wf wdl act implicitly by j'our advice, sir. Har. Do o, and I wdl yet blow all Mrs. Subtle'i schemes — no matter where. (^Exit., Marian and Willis.) //•r. No .V just let (ne look at old Stanley's letter again, befoie I commiinirate its contents to my nephew, {reads) *'My boy, Harry, who is a hair-brained, harenj-scaretn fellow, mounted horse, and gal!f)()ed away, the moment I mentioned a wife for him of my choosing. He has been met on the road towards your place, and I suspect that notwithstand-ig our secrecy, he has discovered who the girl IS, and has a mind to see her before he positively re- jects her. Should this be the case, and he fall in your way, pray d • you humour his incoijnitn, for no doubt he has ado;>ted oiip, and detain him Mil n)y arrival, which will spee Idy fdlnw y-ur re'^npt of this.'' Ah, this is very pretty, but what right h.is any man, to come, and look at .^Ct IIL] PAUL PRY. 53 my daughter; to take her, or have her, as he would a horse. My Lizzy, is a wite for an emperor; I know it, Ihcit's enough, and I wont allow any man to — (calls ovtof windoio.) Here, you Frank, I want you. (listening.) — Coinin* sir, then Wiiy the devil don't you come. There is he tied to the women's apron strings. Hang me, if I have been able tokeep him with me, i you be surprised at my prefernng the com- pany of my dear, little — cousin, to yours, sir? But what have you to say to me, sir ? Har. Something' that touches the honor of us all. Your's, your's — and (to P/tebe,) even your's, if you have any res- pect for your mistress. Harry, (aside.) Am I discovered? Hiir. I have reason to believe that a certain person ia in this neighbourhood, cruizmg under false colors, as you would call it. Hurry. Ah, sir, then I suppose you expect that he should face to the right about, and beat a retreat as you would call it. Har. No, you jackanapes, I neither expect, nor intend any such thing. I intend to humour the deception, and then take him by surprise. Phe. (aside.) You have but one chance for it, sir, con- fess at once — confess. Harry. Our only hope, I believe. Then what if he should confess his error, ask pardon for his indiscretion^ and throw himself on your mercy. Hir. Why then, I should say, take ray daughter, and may you be happv toafether. Harry. Would you, sir, why then — (taking Eliza by the hand, and lurniag towards him.) Har. But not 30 fast. You don't know your uncle yet, Frank. I'll first punish him for his impertinence? How 5 * 54 PATTL PRt. [Paole ' dare he, when it is gpttlfd, that he shall marry ir^y lAzzf, presnnv-? tn have a < iioi'^e of his own. And because he has not vo' ^P' n hpr, how dare he — El'zu. Not yet se^n me ! who are you talking about pa? Hnr. Your intended husband to be sure, Mr.— (/o St- mon^ who inters.) Sinton. Mr. Paul Pry, sir, sends Iiis compliments, and wish*^-, lo?ee}'-on (in most important busines-s. Hnr. Eiernat.'y iha) Nlw P-.ml Pry; my (omplimento, anil I ^.,1 not at hom«». (Exit Sinion.) 1 i2;ue?s what his im;o)?ant business i^ !:k'?ly to be. He comes to look for a •^hoi -ttrinjr, or tell m« f^ome nonsensical event that has ocnrred in ihe neighbourhood. Pry. (irilhoul.) Fooh, pooh, ihis is no time for ceremo- ny, so see hini I must. Phe. I am sup'rstiiious about that Mr. Pry. A wind- in;j:-sheet in the candle, or spillin;^ the salt, is less ominous of evil, than the approarh of that man. Kilter Paul Prv. Pry. Colonel, you must pur — sbtissafe as it ia. (^To himself.') But ( I'orget my prisoners. Frank, I have business that will orcU[)y me lor a few minutes in mystudv*. ShoulJ this 2;eiitloinan arrive b<=fore my return, you, a? my nephew, will do the honours for nie. And you, my little darhng-, will remember, Ihut as he is your intcndf d hus- band, you mast endeavour — 'out 1 nec'l say no more — that hint is always suliicieot to put a w.jiuan to her sweetest looks and best behaviour. (£,r//. Harry. I am in a pleasant dilemma here. Should this be Frank, I must cease to Jict your cousin. Should it be the person your father expects, good bye to my hopes of becoming your husband. Enler PriEBE. Pke. Where is the colonel? Harry. In his study. Phe. 'Tis Mr. Frank himself. But be not pdarmetl. I have prepared him by a hasty narrative of the events of the morning:, and he has proinised to make one of our party^ You may come in, sir. ]■ Enter P^'ra.vk Hardy. ^ Frank. IMy dear cousin I {embraces Eliza.) Whal^ •Harry, my old shipmate ? Eliza. And is tins my little cousin Frank? How much he has grown since he was a little boy ! Frank. We are both somewhat chiinged. I left home a boy, and return a man. I left you [)lay!ng with a dol!, and find you manoeuvering for a hu-^baud. This pretty maid has informed me of your prnceedings. But pray, my dear fellow, does it occur to you that we arc in a devil of a scrape here ? Harry. And pray, my dear fellow, does it occur to you how I am to get out of it ? Frank, {puinting to Ihc window.) That seems the shortest way. Hurry. Th'^t way led me into it, and I never take th? same road twice. Frank. But since my uncle does'nt expect two nephews, one of us must abdicate. Phe. I hope you did\it come all the way from the anti- podes to tell us that, sir. That — th':«t must be the end of .5c7 ///;] PAUL PRY. 57 it we know ; but if you were at all acquainted with your uncle's character, you woulil conceive that there might be some danger in an abrupt disclosure of the deceptioa we have been forced to put upon him. Frank. Ho w forced ? Phe. Why, as I told you by the way, sir, to prevent lord knows what mischief. Frank. Hark ye — you and I are old friends'; — you love my cousin, she loves you, and if my assistance is likely to promote your union, you may command it. Would your father consent to it ? , ' Hiirry. I doubt that, for he has a scheme of his own for my marriage. So my notion is to mari'y first, and ask his consent afterwards, Eliza. Stop, I have an idea. Pke. (aside.) At last ! If it be really an idea, she never carae honestly by it— (nowe without.') Hush I I tre nble at every sound. Til go and see what it is. {Exit. H'lrry. Now for your idea. Eliza. I ilread my pa's anger, and dai"e not see him till he is pacifif^d. Now if Harry were to force me to run away with him — whilst you — Frank. That is a step I will not sanction. Be prudent, or I abandon you. But pray tell, since I am not to be my- self, who am I ? Jlarrij. Why the colonel expects his protege. He believes you are the person, and — Frank. That will never do, for should he really ar- rive, our difficulty will be increased, and — H.irri/. {aside.) I long to throw myself into his arms, yet dare not. Enter Hardy. Hardij. We have despatched the letter, and if that fail to arrouse old Witherton to a sense of his humiliation — ha, there he is. Now Til teach him to come here and take my whole family as it were upon trial. Sir, I believe 1 have the honour of addressing the travelling gentleman who has expressed a desire to see my pictures. Frank. Sir— I — Hardy. Sir, I entreat you will use no ceremony — visit Unygrounda-^examine my furniture — settle your opinion m 58 PAUL PRY. {^Pooh upon every Ihin* and every borly in my honse. This is my daughter — (lakes her by the hand) my daughter, sir— you understand. I hope you like her. This is my nc- j)hevv Fcank. What is your opinioa of him ? How d'ye like me .'' Frank. So well, sir^ (hat if I were lo choose an uncle for myself, you would be the very man. Hardy. Well, that's one point in our favour. But we have not done yet — my dinners — my wine? — it is impor- tant that tliose should be to your sati*fariion, young gen- tleman ; — so I shall request the satisfaction of your com- pany at dinner to-day. Frank. Aye, sir, and to-morrow, and every day for a month to come, if you please. Hardy. And if any thin* in my house, dead or alive, should displease you, you understand — pray use no cere- mony in mentioning it. Frank, (aside.) What the deuce does he mean? — Sir, I assure you that every thing here is perfectly lo my taste. Hardy^ If not, Mr* Snooks has but to gallop to towu again, and no party you understand is compromised by his visit. Frank. tJpon my soul, sir, I do not understand — but Snooks — oh, I perceive the chattering fellow I met at the" inn, ha= spoken to you about me, and be hanged to him. Hardy. No matter sir, I am very proud of the honour you intend me, and letlhat suflir-e. Harry. Don't contradict him, or he'll talk for a month-. Hardy And now, sir, that no time may be lost, sup- pose you commence your inspection at once by a ramble, about my gfrounds. If you please, my daughter shall ac- company you ; but if that is in the least disagreeable, prav say so. Harry. (Jo Eliza.) Come, and thank heaven for this respite. Hardy. W!i::it the deuce, Frank, (srparafes them) do- the civil thing to the travelling gentleman. Will it be ia any way disagreeable to you, sir, to g:ive my daughter your arm ? Frank. Let this attest, that it is thi most agreeable; thing you cotild have projxwed to me, sir. id IIL'] PAVL YBTl. 69 Hnrdi/. (aside.) I am sorry it is so. 1 almost wish he had disliked her, that his marriage might have been a punishment to him fnr presuming to have a choice of his .own. But his father will soon he here — and then — Enter Phebe wilfi a kfy. Well, what is the matter with you? What has alarmed o.i ? Is the house on fire ? Why don't you answer ? PUe. Alarmed ! no sir, I am not alarmed ; but Grasp, •Jr. Withertou's steward, wishes to see you — and running ) tell you has taken my breath away, that's all, sir. ^ Hardy. So, the letter has produced its eflect I imagme. ■Pke. Ke seems in a violent rage, so pray go to him, Harly. Well, why need you be so alarmed about it ? ut you have nerves, I suppose. Ah, the luxury and re- leiiient of the times. Here's a chambermaid sent^ into *3 world with as fiae a set of nerves as a duchess. VW go the man. You'll excuse me for a short time, Mr. tra- iling gentleman, Frank and my daughter will supply m/ ace. (Exit. EUz:t. Phebe, what are you so flurried about ? Is it : ;Uly Mr. Grasp, or have you deceived my pa ? Phe. No, miss, no, that's true enough— but I wish it -re the whole truth. He's come at last, and I have luin nder lock and key. Eliza. Who, the young man? Pke. Young I why miss he's fifty. Harry You have mistaken the person then; 'lis a ,>ung man the colonel expects. Plit. The colo.el speaks of him as he was, wh<-n they ere a?soeiates, without considering how mahy years have .ssed since. I am certain 'tis he, for he ask'cl to ^ce the ide— that v/as enough forme. I thrust him into the eakfast parlour, and locked the door. Here, take the ,'v, and settle your Bis-tters now as best you may. Harry. They'll be easily settled ; Qakes the key.) \ we but one way of treatius; with a rival. Either he , i-t rellnquiih his claims, or I shall leave the point to be 4U8d by a brace of the most persuasive tongues of any .. (he kingdom. Come with me, Frank. Frank. Hold, you have chosen to be u^y representative Lh my uncle, I shall therefore take your place with your 60 PAUL FRY. [Poole, rival, and try what may be done by more temperate mea- Mires. Come, come, Harry, stay where you are. You are too deeply iateresteJ in the i^sue to be as cool a? cir- cumstances may re^M^e. So leaA'e the interview entirely tome. "^ * Harry. On one condition I will; that if you do not suc- ceed in persuading him to abandon the engagement he is under with your uncle, you will then turn my gentleman over to my care, and I warrant you — Frank. Say no more, 'tis granted. Come, Phebe, show me to the drag;on 1 am to vanquish. Eliza. And tell him, Frank, that I can never love him — that we shall never be happy tog^ether — and that the* I may be obliged to marry him to please my {)a, I shall never do any thing to please him. (Exeunt Ht/rri/, FAiza., and Frank. Phe. Well, when I marry, [Ml not leave the choice of a partner to the colonel. Tlie man would be well enough for a grandfather, but ibr a husband — Miss Simpleton has catered much better for herself. Her Harry is a dashin:^ fellow, that's the truth on't. Here are some verses lie just slipt into my hand, {reads.) Well, his compliment is pretty enough, but I can't say murh for its r.ovclty. He compares my lips to cherries. Whilst Mr. Frank is gone for the letter, I'll get them by heart. SGErNE4th.— .^7/ Wilhertnn' s. Enter Wilherton. With. Marry ! — at the very sound I feel myself a happy and a contented man. Marry? — and yet at my age 'tis a step which ought not to be inconsiderately taken. Willis, {rings) his advice has served nie on more than one occa- sion. Ah, had my nephew been where he ougt^t, I had not needed the friendship of a stranger; but that 3'-ouu5 man shall supply his place. Enter a Servant with a letter. Desire Mr. AVillis to come to me, IScrvt. Mr. Willis is gone, sir — and here is a letter for you, sir. (Exit. With. Gone! what does he mean? {opens the Ittjen and a letter from Marian, {reach hastih/.) What do I rea^u love. 'Tis clear you wish me gone. Mrs S T?' ^^?-.f i'^^'^' ^— -^^'t let them be recalled. jUrs. iy. They shall be sought alter. But was this well ^ t J rnTff h" ""^'-'-- -^ ^I-'-^ - young and hand! some, and if her presence here displeased me%ouid vou T/r'w',f ^^^' motive for my displeasure ^ ^i//i. Well, dear Mrs. Subtle, say uo more I w-. npr 'haps too hasty. Ah, here comes Hardy, ^ '''■ 6. 62 PAUL PRY. [Poo/e. Enter Hardy. Hardy. So, what is this I hear? You have dismissed Willis — poor Marian too — them whom 1 recommended to your care. With. Well, well, and were it so, am I not master in my own house .'' Hardy. No, there's the master of you, and your house too. But Pm aware of your intentions. Marry your housekeeper 1 How old are you ? Are you out of your teens? You have lon^ since arrived at the age of matu- rity, we'll say nothins; about years of discretion. With. Colonel, this is my house. Hardy. I understand — and when i have performed my errand, Pll leave you to the full enjoyment of it. if you marry, what is to become of your nephew ? Though when the settlements are drawn, I dare say Mrs. Subtle will take care the poor fellow shall be amply provided — for (/o iier) you have always been the friend of poor sinners, you know. Mrs. S. {aside.') Ah, is he there ? With. Provide for him ! PU cut him off with a sbillino;. Hardy. Do what? Do you know the meaning; of that trivial, dreadful phrase ? Would you carry your resent- ment beyoad the grave ? AnH you satisfied to enjoy the pleasure of reveni,'e as long as you live? Surely that is long enough (or the besi — for the worst of us. When we U'e, 'tis time our resentmoiit should expire too. With. You will be silent on tho subject of my nephew, if vou wish to preserve u)y friendship. ilardy. 'Tis to render you worthy of mine, that I speak. But this is no time for ceremony ; your eyes must be open- ed. Here, Grasp. Enter Grasp. You have for years been the duf)e of this precious pair — poor Soiners traduced — his letter? — your'o suppressed — fals- jfiyil — This honest gentleman, doubtt'ul of being able to persuade you of the truth of his confession, has taken the surer way of making it to me. With. I was already prepared for something of this nature, btit he has deceived you ; his motives are not ua- kiiowu lo me. ^Ict III. ] PAUL PRY. 63 Mrs. S. Lot liim speak, sir. What intrigues he may- have carried on against your nephew, I know not. What- ever he would charii^e upon inG,Jie must prove. His word, und^T present circumptances^ i^ as nothing. Hardij, I would give as little for the fellow's word as you would, whos«em to know its great value. SoyCome, sir, to the proofs you told me of. Mrs. Sr Aye, now villain ! Grasp. Aye, now you shall feel what it is to make a dupe o! me. (Exit. Hardy. Now when your eyes are opened, perhaps you will have no objection to acknowledge that you perceive the li^ht of the sun. Wilh. 'Tis a wicked imposture of his — the petty re- venge of disappointed hope. Mrs. S. Let them proceed, sir. Re-enter Grasp. Grasp. They are stolen — I am robbed, (/o Mrs. S. ) 'Tis you have done this. TVilh. What say you? Mrs. S. This is too stale a device. Grasp, {to Hardy.) The papers I told you of — 'twas but this morning I saw ihem there — my desk has been opened. You, (to Mrs. S.) you alone had a motive for doing this. With. The trick is evident. Deliver up your key?, and quit my house. Hardy. There can be no objection to that. There will be one rogue the fewer in* it. (/« Grasp.) Do you persist in the truth of the disclosure you made to me.'' , Grasp. It matters not. You see which way the wind blows. 'Tis clear whatever may happen. I can no longer remain here, (to Wilherton.') Your blind folly deserves a bitt'^r punishment — marry her. (Exit. Hardy. IVow I dare say you consider this a triumph, but I have yet — Mrs. S. Mr. Witherton, v/hat further insult am I to re- ceive ^t the hand? of this gentleman ? Hardy. Hey-day! JVith. Colonol Hardy, I beg you will recollect that this lady '? to become — Hardy. La-Jy! Well, then, my lady pickle and pre- serve, smce it must be so. •64 PAUL PRY. [Poole, i JVith. Sir, the attempts to difgrace her in my esteem, thou'^h I doubt not ingeniously concerted, have failed. It remains with you to determine by your conduct towards her, whether 1 am to continue your friend. Hardij. My deternjinalion is taken Good morning to yen- 1 had prepared a surprise for you, which would have rendered you a happy man f'>r life. You shall not enjoy it, till you know better how to de?erve it. Good day. Enter Paul Pry. Pry. I hope I don't intrude. Hardy. You have just dropt in to wish the young cou- ple joy, 1 suppose? Pry. I come to wish Mrs. Subtle joy. You mu?t haveA been dreadfully alarmed when you discovered your loss. ■ Mrs. S. What loss — whai ? Pry. I saw you drop them, and called after you, but youdid'nt hearme. Mrs. S. What are you speaking of? Pry. Poor Mrs. Subtle, thought I, if these had been her own, it woujd'nt so much have grieved her : but to lose a pacquet belonging to her master — Hardy. Eh, w'hat's that ? Papers ? Pry. A heavy pacquet she let full into the dry w^ell, up yonder. It took me nearly half an hour to hook them out again — and here they are. Mrs. S. (about to seize them.) They are mine. Hardy, {snzing them.) By your leave. So, so, this confirms the truth oi Grasp's sthry. Qooking at them^ and giving them one by one to WitUerion.) Will this convince you — or this — or this? Mrs. S. The scheme 1 huve for years been framing, ia a moment destroyed by an oUicious fool. With. May I beheve my eyes? The letter desiring my nephew to hasten to England, suppressed. And here — (reads.) " Again I write to you, my dear uncle, to im- plore your consent to my marriage."' — And here he en- treats permission to see me. What say you to this, Mrs, Subtle ? Mrs.S. I scorn to reply- If you believe me implicated in these intrigues — if you have so lost your confidence in my truUi and honesty towards you, bid mo al once begone. r Act III.'] PAUL PRY. 65 In your solitude, your uesolate solitude, you will find lei- sure to repent your injustice, and — With, Say bul you are inuoceut of any participation in this, and — Hardv. Say it ! Confound her, she'll say it, and swear it too. But are you fO blind as not to perceive the drift of "her artful speech .'' Why need you be desolate? why need you be solitary? It has been her wicked policy to render you so. Recall the friends whom natiire has provided for you. If >ou won't, I will; and if yau don't like them — give them over to me. With. What mean you ? Hardy. To restore an injured nei)hew to you; and if Somers and his wife have suffered througli the calumnies this good lady has heaped upon them, your own judge- ment has done them right in its true estimate of the vir- tues of Willis and IVIarian. Come in. '^ Enter Willis gtiJ Marian. I hale the parade of sentiment. There they are, so take them at once to your heart. They have' nolhirfg to be ashamed of, except having an old fool for an uncle. (JVi.llis and J\I(irian tkrotv Ihemselvts at Wi(herton''s feet.) With. No, not there — not there, (raises and clasps them in his arms') To what vile treachery have I been sub- jected ? Mrs. Subtle, you may perceive that your pre- sence here is no longer desirable. .Mrs. S. Think not 1 desire to rejpain ; and if I feel a pang at parting with you, it is at the reflection that a few hours more would have made me mistress of that fortune, which now — may it carry misery wherever it is bestowed {Exit. Hardy. There 1 If you could entertain the slightest regret at the departure of that good lady, 1 trust that her farewell speech will serve to extinguish it. Pry. {to Hardy.) 'Tis best for him as it is. He'd have caught a tartar ; beeides he can be no chicken. Now what age would you take him to be? Hardy. At a random guess, turned of twenty. Give me • your hand, ( o Witkerton.) I congratulate you on your accession to your senses. I am happy in what I have done here. I feel in good humour with myself, and every brdy else. Will no one ask a favour, that I may enjoy the plea- 6* 66 pai;l pry. [Poole. sure of <2;ranting it? Will no one offend me, to afford me the gratification of for(;iving him? Enter Frank Hardy. Frank. If you are in that mood, sir, I can furnish you with employment. Hardy. So, Mr. Snooks, is it you ? (to Witherton.) The son of our old friend Stanley, with whom you and I have cracked many a bottle in our young days. He thinks I don't know him. Pry. The travelling: gentleman. Hardy, (to Frank.) Then you intend to confess who you are, and trust to my mercy? But I knew you from the first. I was apprized of your runaway freak, and was re- solved to humour it. Frank. Pray sir, read this letter, (chives a letter.) Hardy. " Archibald Stanley'' — a letter from his father. Pry. A pa-s to the next parish, I suppose. Hardy. What the deuce 1 break off his engagement with me; and has he enroura^^ed you in this? Frank. Upon n)y word, sir, he is a very rational old gentleman, and made no sort of scruple in relinquishing his share in the treaty. Hardy. So then it appears that my daughter is not agreeable to you, and your father is mad enough to — Frank. My father, sir ! Hardy. Aye, sir, and I consider the conduct of old Mr. Stanley in this affair — Frank. One word, sir. Is the gentleman I have just seen, old Mr. Stanley, the father of Harry Stanley ? Ml Hardy. Why this isstroUhing the proverb with a ven-" g,-oance : and do you pretend that you did not know your own father ? Frank. Ha, ha, ha I So then Harry Stanley is the per- son you have all along intended for your son-in-law? Hardy. Why who the devil else do you think it was? — Sir, do you persist m refusing my daughter ? Frank. I (hi, sir. Yet, nevertheless, your own inten- tions will be fulfilled. Ent/'r a Servant. Serrt. (/o Withctton.) Mr. Stanley, sir. Frank. Ha, ha, ha I I foresee a v/arm explanation here. Act III.] PAUI. PKY. 61 Enter Old Stanley. Old S. {to Witherton.) Ah, my old friend! I have made a fruitless journey down to this place, hut I would not return to town, without shaking you l>y thf hand.— . What, Hardy ! I had resolved not to see you, but since we have met, your hand. Your daughter may be all the happier for the exchange. Hardy. So then you countenance your son in his refu- sal.'' You allow him to come here, look at my daughter, turn up his cursed impudent nose at her, and coolly march off again. Old S. What, and has my Hal been here ? What has become of hiiu ? Hardy Wliy don't you see him before you.' Turn aboiii you dog. (/o Frank.) Old S. Ha, ha, ha ! He's no sou of mine. Hardy. Tell me, if that is not your son, pray whose son is he ? Old S. That's morejthan I can say. All I know about hina, is that he is the gentleman m whose favour I have just re- linquished my boy's claim to your daughter. Hardy. So sir, you have dared to impose upon me, by telling me that — Frank. You wrong me, sir. I told you nothing. The error was of your own creating. Pry. There, you see, I was right. Hardy. Aye, and your putting me on my guard has led to this misunderstanding. But here comes my nephew. I shall leave it to him to revenj^e this affront. Enter Harry, Eliz4, and Phebe. With. My dear friend, be temperate. Harry. For all misunderstanding, that has occurred here, sir, 1 alone am — the devil, my father! Pry. The devil his father ! Well, I thought he did not come of a good family, from the first moment 1 saw him. Old S. Come hither, sir, and ans^wer your father. Hardy. Listen to your uncle, I say. OldS. Fou his uncle ! Why zounds, are you mad, or do you think I don't know my own son ? Hardy. There is some confounded rosfuery in this. If one of these is not your son, and the other an impudent rascal of a lover, what am I to do for a nephew - QQ PAtL PRY. [Poole. Phebe. {leading Frank to him. ) For want of another, take this. Hardy. I begin to perceive. So then you were the bird-catcher after all, anJ were already acquainted with my daughter. And pray, Mrs. Phebe, how did you dnre — Phe. Why, sir, if hot-headed jceutlemen will ask ques- tions with pistols ia their hand^, what is one to do? JVith. Come, come, say no more. You have your own way — Hardy. True, I have my own way, but not in niy own way of having it. Her obedience is not quite so evident m this, as I could have desired — however, there — Qakes Harry over to Eliza, and joins their hands.) Eliza. Thank you,, pa, and if ever I marry again, you shall have the choice all your own way, Harry. I am in no hurry to give your pa an opportu- nity of putting your obedience to the test. Hardy. Frank, my boy, you do take after the family, and I forgive you on that account. Phe. I hope, sir, you'll forgive me, if not — {turns to Witherton.) I hear, sir, that yon have dismissed your housekeeper, and — (curtsies) should I losp my place in the coloners family — With. Ah, my dear, you'are too young for a housekeep- er, and I have a ^jndoned my intention to marry. Celi- bv.cy is an erro: , which at ray age it is too late to repair. I hive been foolish enough to live single all my life, but to marry now, would be but to exchange/a great folly for a greater. In this is now my refuge for life, {taking his nephew'' s and Marian s hgnd. Hardy. All you that are single, take warning by him, and marry ai iast as you can. Prij. {to Phebei) A broad hint to you and me, Mr?. Phebe. Phe. Lord help mo. You are too inquisitive for a Ifusbnud. Prij. Pooh, pooh ! A spirit of inquiry is the great cha- racteristic of the age we live in. <« Hardij. It is a spirit, which now and then, leads you to fish in troubled waters. Pry. I tlatter niy-elf I have fished to a,ome purpose to- ndy though — thc> p.>per>=,you know. ^^d III.'} PAUL PRY. 69 Hardy. So you have ; and in consideration of that, will tolerate you for the remainder of it. You shall dine with me. Pry. You'll tolerate me — no, will you? Well, that's very polite, and I accept your iuvitation. Hardy. But if you dare ask a suiji^le question — even whai it is o'clock, I'll toss you out of the window. Pry. I must ask one question more. Ladies and gen- tlemen, if I am not impertinent — will you— will you OVe;^» look the many faults of Paul Pry. SarD OE PA¥L PRY, is.m.MiriiDi:ii^. HAS JUST PUBLISHED AT THE DRAMATIC KEPOSITOKf? 4 Chamber-strtety all the ITALIAN OPERAS, A3 Performed in New-York, Alsi), the following TRAGEDIES, COMEDIES FARCES, &C. &C. &C, AJaddin, Actor of All Work, Ali Pacha^ Actor, or Guide to the stage Alasco, All in the dark, Bombastes Furioso, Blood Red Knight, Brother & Sister, Caius Gracchus, Cortez, Christmas at Brighton, Crockery's Misfortunes, Conscience, Cataract of the Ganges, D urazzo, Damon & Pythias El llyder. Fish out of water Family Jars, Fatal Dowry, Floating Beacon, Forest of Rosen wald, Grecian Captive, Irish Tutor, John Buzz by, Lofty Projects, La Diligence, Lady and the Devil, Malvina, Monsieur Tonson, Manager in Distrejs, Marion, Mathew's Invitations, At Home, Trip to Paris, Youthful Day's, Mogul Tale, Maid Marian, Native Land, One, two, three, four, ftverf Oberon, Paul Pry, Promissory Note, Richelieu, Rumfustian, Roman Actor, Secret Mine, Siege of Belgrade, Swedish Patiioiisra, S[iectre Bridegroom, Sylvester Daggeiwood, Simpson & Co., Three Deep, Tom & Jerry, Two Wives, Theatrical Budget, l£nos» Therese, Too late for Dinner, Undine, William Tell, Wallace, Warlock- of the tflen, Young Widow, Wliere also m.tv he had. Kvery Play of merit, now in pruit in Europe or America. 71 Prices, Cts. Otello, I. o. «38 Othello, as performed, t. Shakspeare 31 Otho, T Neal 44 Ourselves, c. Chambers 31 P Paddy's Trip to America, p. Talbert 25 Padlock, o. Bickerstaff IS Past Ten o'clock, f. Dibdin 13 Patron, c. Foote 19 Paul and Virginia, o. Cobb 13 Paul Pry, c. Poole 25 Paul Pry at Dover, c. 19 Peasant Boy, o. Dimond 25 Peter the Great, p. Dunlap 25 Phelles, King of Tyre, t. Potter 25 Piccolomini, d. Schiller 56 Pilgrim, c. Fletcher 25 Pirate, m. d. Dibdin 25 Pizzaro, p. Kotzibue 25 Plot and Counterplot, f. Kemble 19 Point of Honour, p. Kemble 19 Poor Gentleman, c. Colman, jun. 25 Poor Soldier, o. O^Keeffe 13 Prize, or, 2 5 3 8, f. Hoare 13 Pride Shall have a Fall, o. 25 Prisoner at Large, F. Keese l3 Promissory Note, o. IS Prophecy, D Fowler 13 Provoked Husband, c. Vanbrugh and Cibber 3S Purse ; or, Benevolent Tar, f. Cross 13 Pygmalion and Galathea, f. Rosseau 13 Q Quaker, c. o. 13 ^2 Prices. Cts, R Raising the Wind, f. Keniiey Ramah Droog, o. Cobb Recall of Momus, f. Thompson Recruiting Officer, c. Farquhar Reconciliation, c Kotzebue Recruiting Serjeant, p. Bickerstafl' Remorse, o. Ayton Renegade, o. Reynolds Ret.ibn'ioii, or Cliieftain's Daughter, t. Dillon 3] Revenge, t. Young Review or Wag of Windsor, o. Colman, jr. Ribbemoiit, or the Feudal Baron, t. Dunlap Rm hibeu, T. Pa}'ne R naldo Rinaldino, m. d. Rival Valets, f. Richard III, t. Shakspeare, as performed Riches, or Wife and Brother, p. Burgcs Riffht and Wrong, c. Rivals, c. Sheridan Road to Ruin c. Holcroft R'>y Rov Mricffregor, M. d. Pocock Robb • T from the German of Schiller R( • n Hood, M. D. M'Nally "^.oland for an Oliver, v Morton Roman Actor, int. Messenger R(.meo and Giuelletta, i. o. Romeo and Juliet, t. Shakspeare Rump.. F. Bickerstaff Rosa,M D. Heyer Rose of Arrogan, m. d. Judah Rosina, or Love in a Cottage, o. Roses and Thoi ns, Lunn Royal Oak, r. Dimond iJa76 ^ o • • ^1 > ■ • '•^^ ^^ Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide A^, *"V Treatment Date: April 2009 <&".••*" ^^ PreservationTechnologies "'"*"** ^ A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION I *_ * 111 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Township, PA 1 6066 (724)779-2111 ^ *--o' ^^^ "-..^^ '-^^0^ ^ .'1:.^% -^ ^C He / ^K ^^ *•«<>' ^<^ ^'% LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 005 360 928 4 '''''.•.''.('■ii'i'i"^ r^M'