day has since taught me, that it is possible to pos- disclaim his friendship who ceases to be a friend to sess sense without pride, and beauty without affec- himself. [Exit. tation. Honeywood. How is this! she has confessed she Miss Richland. This, sir, is a style very unusual loved him, and yet she seemed to part in displeawith Mr. Honeywood; and I should be glad to sure. Can I have done any thing to reproach myknow why he thus attempts to increase that vanity, self with? No; I believe not yet after all, these which his own lessons have taught me to despise. things should not be done by a third person: I Honeywood. I ask pardon, madam. Yet, from should have spared her confusion. My friendship our long friendship, I presumed I might have some carried me a little too far. right to offer, without offence, what you may refuse, without offending.

Miss Richland. Sir! I beg you'd reflect: though, I fear, I shall scarce have any power to refuse a request of yours, yet you may be precipitate: consider, sir.

Honeywood. I own my rashness; but as I plead the cause of friendship, of one who loves-Don't be alarmed, madam-who loves you with the most ardent passion, whose whole happiness is placed in you

Miss Richland. I fear, sir, I shall never find whom you mean, by this description of him.

Honeywood. Ah, madam, it but too plainly points him out; though he should be too humble himself to urge his pretensions, or you too modest to understand them.

Miss Richland. Well; it would be affectation any longer to pretend ignorance; and I will own, sir, I have long been prejudiced in his favour. It was but natural to wish to make his heart mine, as he seemed himself ignorant of its value.

Honeywood. I see she always loved him. [Aside.] I find, madam, you're already sensible of his worth, his passion. How happy is my friend, to be the favourite of one with such sense to distinguish merit, and such beauty to reward it.

Miss Richland. Your friend, sir! What friend? Honeywood. My best friend-my friend Mr. Lofty, madam.

Miss Richland. He, sir!

Honeywood. Yes, he, madam. He is, indeed, what your warmest wishes might have formed him; and to his other qualities he adds that of the most passionate regard for you.

Enter CROAKER, with the letter in his hand, and MRS.
CROAKER.

Mrs. Croaker. Ha! ha! ha! And so, my dear, it's your supreme wish that I should be quite wretched upon this occasion? ha! ha!

Croaker [Mimicking]. Ha! ha! ha! And so, my dear, it's your supreme pleasure to give me no better consolation?

Mrs. Croaker. Positively, my dear; what is this incendiary stuff and trumpery to me? our house may travel through the air like the house of Loretto, for aught I care, if I am to be miserable in it.

Croaker. Would to Heaven it were converted into a house of correction for your benefit. Have we not every thing to alarm us? Perhaps this very moment the tragedy is beginning.

Mrs. Croaker. Then let us reserve our distress till the rising of the curtain, or give them the money they want, and have done with them.

Croaker. Give them my money! And pray, what right have they to my money?

Mrs. Croaker. And pray, what right then have you to my good-humour?

Croaker. And so your good-humour advises me to part with my money? Why then, to tell your good-humour a piece of my mind, I'd sooner part with my wife. Here's Mr. Honeywood, see what he'll say to it. My dear Honeywood, look at this incendiary letter dropped at my door. It will freeze you with terror; and yet lovey here can read it— can read it, and laugh.

Mrs. Croaker. Yes, and so will Mr. Honeywood.

Croaker. If he does, I'll suffer to be hanged the

Miss Richland. Amazement!-No more of this, next minute in the rogue's place, that's all.

I beg you, sir.

Mrs. Croaker. Speak, Mr. Honeywood; is there any thing more foolish than my husband's fright upon this occasion?

Honeywood. I see your confusion, madam, and know how to interpret it. And, since I so plainly read the language of your heart, shall I make my friend happy, by communicating your sentiments? Miss Richland. By no means. Honeywood. Excuse me, I must; I know you another time. desire it.

Miss Richland. Mr. Honeywood, let me tell you, that you wrong my sentiments and yourself. When I first applied to your friendship, I expected advice and assistance; but now, sir, I see that it is in vain to expect happiness from him who has been so bad an economist of his own; and that I must

Honeywood. It would not become me to decide, madam; but doubtless, the greatness of his terrors now will but invite them to renew their villany

Mrs. Croaker. I told you, he'd be of my opinion. Croaker. How, sir! do you maintain that I should lie down under such an injury, and show, neither by my tears nor complaints, that I have something of the spirit of a man in me?

Honeywood. Pardon me, sir. You ought to make the loudest complaints, if you desire redress.

The surest way to have redress, is to be earnest in the pursuit of it.

Croaker. Ay, whose opinion is he of now? Mrs. Croaker. But don't you think that laughing off our fears is the best way?

Honeywood. What is the best, madam, few can say; but I'll maintain it to be a very wise way.

Honeywood. Ay, but not punish him too rigidly. Croaker. Well, well, leave that to my own benevolence.

Honeywood. Well, I do; but remember that universal benevolence is the first law of nature. [Exeunt Honeywood and Mrs. Croaker. Croaker. Yes; and my universal benevolence

Croaker. But we're talking of the best. Surely will hang the dog, if he had as many necks as a the best way is to face the enemy in the field, and hydra.

not wait till he plunders us in our very bed-chamber.

Honeywood. Why sir, as to the best, that

that's a very wise way too.

Mrs. Croaker. But can any thing be more absurd, than to double our distresses by our apprehensions, and put it in the power of every low fellow, that can scrawl ten words of wretched spelling, to torment us.

Honeywood. Without doubt, nothing more ab

surd.

Croaker. How! would it not be more absurd to despise the rattle till we are bit by the snake? Honeywood. Without doubt, perfectly absurd. Croaker. Then you are of my opinion? Honeywood. Entirely.

Mrs. Croaker. And you reject mine? Honeywood. Heavens forbid, madam! No sure, no reasoning can be more just than yours. We ought certainly to despise malice if we can not oppose it, and not make the incendiary's pen as fatal to our repose as the highwayman's pistol.

Mrs. Croaker. O! then you think I'm quite right.

Honeywood. Perfectly right.

Croaker. A plague of plagues, we can't be both right. I ought to be sorry, or I ought to be glad. My hat must be on my head, or my hat must be off. Mrs. Croaker. Certainly, in two opposite opinions, if one be perfectly reasonable, the other can't be perfectly right.

ACT V

SCENE-AN INN.

Enter OLIVIA, JARVIS.

Olivia. WELL, we have got safe to the inn, however. Now, if the post-chaise were ready— Jarvis. The horses are just finishing their oats; and, as they are not going to be married, they choose to take their own time.

Olivia. You are for ever giving wrong motives to my impatience.

Jarvis. Be as impatient as you will, the horses must take their own time; besides, you don't consider we have got no answer from our fellow traveller yet. If we hear nothing from Mr. Leontine, we have only one way left us.

Olivia. What way?

Jarvis. The way home again.

Olivia. Not so. I have made a resolution to go, and nothing shall induce me to break it.

Jarvis. Ay; resolutions are well kept, when they jump with inclination. However, I'll go hasten things without. And I'll call, too, at the bar, to see if any thing should be left for us there. Don't be in such a plaguy hurry, madam, and we shall go the faster, I promise you. [Exit Jarvis.

Enter LANDLADY.

Landlady. What! Solomon, why don't you

Honeywood. And why may not both be right, madam? Mr. Croaker in earnestly seeking redress, and you in waiting the event with good-humour? move? Pipes and tobacco for the Lamb there.Pray, let me see the letter again. I have it. This Will nobody answer? To the Dolphin; quick. letter requires twenty guineas to be left at the bar of the Talbot Inn. If it be indeed an incendiary letter, what if you and I, sir, go there; and when the writer comes to be paid for his expected booty, seize him.

The Angel has been outrageous this half hour.
Did your ladyship call, madam?

Olivia. No, madam.

Landlady. I find as you're for Scotland, madam, -But that's no business of mine; married, or not Croaker. My dear friend, it's the very thing; married, I ask no questions. To be sure we had the very thing. While I walk by the door, you a sweet little couple set off from this two days ago shall plant yourself in ambush near the bar; burst for the same place. The gentleman, for a tailor, out upon the miscreant like a masked battery; ex- was, to be sure, as fine a spoken tailor as ever blew tort a confession at once, and so hang him up by froth from a full pot. And the young lady so bashsurprise.

Honeywood. Yes, but I would not choose to exercise too much severity. It is my maxim, sir, that crimes generally punish themselves.

Croaker. Well, but we may upbraid him a little, I suppose? [Ironically.

ful, it was near half an hour before we could get her to finish a pint of raspberry between us.

Olivia. But this gentleman and I are not going to be married, I assure you.

Landlady. May-be not. That's no business of mine; for certain, Scotch marriages seldom turn

out. There was, of my own knowledge, Miss Mac-employment till we are out of danger, nothing can fag, that married her father's footman-Alack-a- interrupt our journey. day, she and her husband soon parted, and now keep separate cellars in Hedge-lane.

Olivia. A very pretty picture of what lies before [Aside.

me!

Enter LEONTINE.

Leontine. My dear Olivia, my anxiety, till you were out of danger, was too great to be resisted. I could not help coming to see you set out, though it exposes us to a discovery.

Olivia. May every thing you do prove as fortunate. Indeed, Leontine, we have been most cruelly disappointed. Mr. Honeywood's bill upon the city has, it seems, been protested, and we have been utterly at a loss how to proceed.

Olivia. I have no doubt of Mr. Honeywood's sincerity, and even his desires to serve us. My fears are from your father's suspicions. A mind so disposed to be alarmed without a cause, will be but too ready when there's a reason.

Leontine. Why let him when we are out of his power. But believe me, Olivia, you have no great reason to dread his resentment. His repining temper, as it does no manner of injury to himself, so will it never do harm to others. He only frets to keep himself employed, and scolds for his private amusement.

Olivia. I don't know that; but, I'm sure, on some occasions it makes him look most shockingly. Croaker [discovering himself.] How does he

Leontine. How! an offer of his own too. Sure, look now?-How does he look now? he could not mean to deceive us?

Olivia. Depend upon his sincerity; he only mistook the desire for the power of serving us. But let us think no more of it. I believe the post-chaise is ready by this.

Landlady. Not quite yet; and, begging your ladyship's pardon, I don't think your ladyship quite ready for the post-chaise. The north road is a cold place, madam. I have a drop in the house of as pretty raspberry as ever was tipt over tongue. Just a thimble-full to keep the wind off your stomach. To be sure, the last couple we had here, they said it was a perfect nosegay. Ecod, I sent them both away as good-natured-Up went the blinds, round went the wheels, and drive away post-boy was the word.

Enter CROAKER.

Croaker. Well, while my friend Honeywood is upon the post of danger at the bar, it must be my business to have an eye about me here. I think I know an incendiary's look; for wherever the devil makes a purchase, he never fails to set his mark. Ha! who have we here? My son and daughter! What can they be doing here?

Olivia. Ah!

Leontine. Undone.

Croaker. How do I look now? Sir, I am your very humble servant. Madam, I am yours. What, you are going off, are you? Then, first, if you please, take a word or two from me with you before you go. Tell me first where you are going; and when you have told me that, perhaps I shall know as little as I did before.

Leontine. If that be so, our answer might but increase your displeasure, without adding to your information.

Croaker. I want no information from you, puppy: and you too, good madam, what answer have you got? Eh! [A cry without, stop him.] 1 think I heard a noise. My friend Honeywood withouthas he seized the incendiary? Ah, no, for now I hear no more on't.

Leontine. Honeywood without! Then, sir, it was Mr. Honeywood that directed you hither? Croaker. No, sir, it was Mr. Honeywood conducted me hither.

Leontine. Is it possible?

Croaker. Possible! Why he's in the house now, sir; more anxious about me than my own son, sir. Landlady. I tell you, madam, it will do you Leontine. Then, sir, he's a villain. good; I think I know by this time what's good for Croaker. How, sirrah! a villain, because he takes the north road. It's a raw night, madam.-Sir-most care of your father? I'll not bear it. I tell Leontine. Not a drop more, good madam. I you I'll not bear it. Honeywood is a friend to the should now take it as a greater favour, if you hasten family, and I'll have him treated as such.

the horses, for I am afraid to be seen myself. Landlady. That shall be done. Wha, Solomon! are you all dead there? Wha, Solomon, I say!

[Exit, bawling.

Leontine. I shall study to repay his friendship as it deserves.

Croaker. Ah, rogue, if you knew how earnestly he entered into my griefs, and pointed out the means Olivia. Well, I dread lest an expedition begun to detect them, you would love him as I do. [A in fear, should end in repentance.-Every moment cry without, stop him.] Fire and fury! they have we stay increases our danger, and adds to my ap- seized the incendiary: they have the villain, the prehensions. incendiary in view. Stop him! stop an incendiaLeontine. There's no danger, trust me, my dear; ry! a murderer! stop him! [Exit. there can be none. If Honeywood has acted with Olivia. O, my terrors! What can this tumult honour, and kept my father, as he promised, in mean?

Leontine. Some new mark, I suppose, of Mr. | incendiary? [Seizing the Postboy.] Hold him Honeywood's sincerity. But we shall have satis- fast, the dog: he has the gallows in his face. Come, faction he shall give me instant satisfaction. you dog, confess; confess all, and hang yourself.

Olivia. It must not be, my Leontine, if you value my esteem or my happiness. Whatever be our fate, let us not add guilt to our misfortunesConsider that our innocence will shortly be all that we have left us. You must forgive him. Leontine. Forgive him! Has he not in every instance betrayed us? Forced to borrow money from him, which appears a mere trick to delay us; promised to keep my father engaged till we were out of danger, and here brought him to the very scene of our escape?

Postboy. Zounds! master, what do you throttle me for?

Croaker [beating him.] Dog, do you resist? do you resist?

Postboy. Zounds! master, I'm not he: there's the man that we thought was the rogue, and turns out to be one of the company. Croaker. How!

Honeywood. Mr. Croaker, we have all been under a strange mistake here; I find there is nobody guilty; it was all an error; entirely an error of our

Olivia. Don't be precipitate. We may yet be own. mistaken.

Croaker. And I say, sir, that you're in an error; for there's guilt and double guilt, a plot, a damned Enter POSTBOY, dragging in JARVIS; HONEYWOOD jesuitical, pestilential plot, and I must have proof

entering soon after.

Postboy. Ay, master, we have him fast enough. Here is the incendiary dog. I'm entitled to the reward; I'll take my oath I saw him ask for the money at the bar, and then run for it.

of it.

Honeywood. Come, bring him along. Let us see him. Let him learn to blush for his crimes. [Discovering his mistake.] Death! what's here? Jarvis, Leontine, Olivia! What can all this mean? to you. Jarvis. Why, I'll tell you what it means: that

Jarvis. What signifies explanations when the

I was an old fool, and that you are my master-thing is done?

that's all.

Honeywood. Will nobody hear me? Was there ever such a set, so blinded by passion and preju

lieve, you'll be surprised when I assure you

Honeywood. Confusion! Leontine. Yes, sir, I find you have kept your dice! [To the Postboy.] My good friend, I beword with me. After such baseness, I wonder how you can venture to see the man you have injured?

Honeywood. My dear Leontine, by my life, my honour

Leontine. Peace, peace, for shame; and do not continue to aggravate baseness by hypocrisy. I know you, sir, I know you.

Honeywood. Why won't you hear me? By all that's just, I know not

Leontine. Hear you, sir, to what purpose? I now see through all your low arts; your ever complying with every opinion; your never refusing any request: your friendship's as common as a prostitute's favours, and as fallacious; all these, sir, have long been contemptible to the world, and are now perfectly so to me.

Honeywood. Ha! contemptible to the world! that reaches me. [Aside.

Leontine. All the seeming sincerity of your professions, I now find, were only allurements to betray; and all your seeming regret for their consequences, only calculated to cover the cowardice of your heart. Draw, villain!

Enter CROAKER, out of breath.
Croaker. Where is the villain? Where is the

Postboy. Sure me nothing-I'm sure of nothing but a good beating.

Croaker. Come then you, madam, if you ever hope for any favour or forgiveness, tell me sincerely all you know of this affair.

Olivia. Unhappily, sir, I'm but too much the cause of your suspicions: you see before you, sir, one that with false pretences has stepped into your family to betray it; not your daughter

Croaker. Not my daughter?

Olivia. Not your daughter-but a mean deceiver-who-support me, I can not—

Honeywood. Help, she's going; give her air.

Croaker. Ay, ay, take the young woman to the air; I would not hurt a hair of her head, whosever daughter she may be-not so bad as that neither. [Exeunt all but Croaker.

Croaker. Yes, yes, all's out; I now see the whole affair; my son is either married, or going to be so, to this lady, whom he imposed upon me as his sister. Ay, certainly so; and yet I don't find it afflicts me so much as one might think. There's the advantage of fretting away our misfortunes beforehand, we never feel them when they come.

Enter MISS RICHLAND and SIR WILLIAM.

Sir William. But how do you know, madam

that my nephew intends setting off from this please! How have I over-taxed all my abilities, place? lest the approbation of a single fool should escape Miss Richland. My maid assured me he was me! But all is now over; I have survived my repucome to this inn, and my own knowledge of his in- tation, my fortune, my friendships, and nothing tending to leave the kingdom suggested the rest. remains henceforward for me but solitude and reBut what do I see! my guardian here before us! pentance.

Who, my dear sir, could have expected meeting Miss Richland. Is it true, Mr. Honeywood, that you here? to what accident do we owe this plea-you are setting off, without taking leave of your sure? friends? The report is, that you are quitting England: Can it be?

Croaker. To a fool, I believe.

Miss Richland. But to what purpose did you come?

Croaker. To play the fool.

Miss Richland. But with whom?
Croaker. With greater fools than myself.
Miss Richland. Explain.

Croaker. Why, Mr. Honeywood brought me here to do nothing now I am here; and my son is going to be married to I don't know who, that is here: so now you are as wise as I am.

Honeywood. Yes, madam; and though I am so unhappy as to have fallen under your displeasure, yet, thank Heaven! I leave you to happiness; to one who loves you, and deserves your love; to one who has power to procure you affluence, and generosity to improve your enjoyment of it.

Miss Richland. And are you sure, sir, that the gentleman you mean is what you describe him?

Honeywood. I have the best assurances of ithis serving me. He does indeed deserve the highest happiness, and that is in your power to confer. As for me, weak and wavering as I have been, obliged by all, and incapable of serving any, what happiness can I find but in solitude? what hope, but in being forgotten?

Miss Richland. Married! to whom, sir? Croaker. To Olivia, my daughter, as I took her to be; but who the devil she is, or whose daughter she is, I know no more than the man in the moon. Sir William. Then, sir, I can inform you; and, though a stranger, yet you shall find me a friend to your family. It will be enough, at present, to assure you, that both in point of birth and fortune the young lady is at least your son's equal. Being left by her father, Sir James WoodvilleCroaker. Sir James Woodville! What, of the those that once were equals, insupportable. Nay, west?

Miss Richland. A thousand! to live among friends that esteem you, whose happiness it will be to be permitted to oblige you.

Honeywood. No, madam, my resolution is fixed. Inferiority among strangers is easy; but among

to show you how far my resolution can go, I can Sir William. Being left by him, I say, to the now speak with calmness of my former follies, my care of a mercenary wretch, whose only aim was vanity, my dissipation, my weakness. I will even to secure her fortune to himself, she was sent to confess, that, among the number of my other preFrance, under pretence of education; and there sumptions, I had the insolence to think of loving every art was tried to fix her for life in a convent, you. Yes, madam, while I was pleading the pascontrary to her inclinations. Of this I was inform-sion of another, my heart was tortured with its ed upon my arrival at Paris; and, as I had been own. But it is over: it was unworthy our friendonce her father's friend, I did all in my power to ship, and let it be forgotten. frustrate her guardian's base intentions. I had even meditated to rescue her from his authority, when your son stepped in with more pleasing violence, gave her liberty, and you a daughter.

Croaker. But I intend to have a daughter of my own choosing, sir. A young lady, sir, whose fortune, by my interest with those who have interest, will be double what my son has a right to expect. Do you know Mr. Lofty, sir?

Sir William. Yes, sir; and know that you are deceived in him. But step this way, and I'll con

vince you.

[Croaker and Sir William seem to confer.

Enter HONEYWOOD.

Honeywood. Obstinate man, still to persist in his outrage! Insulted by him, despised by all, I now begin to grow contemptible even to myself.

Miss Richland. You amaze me!

Honeywood. But you'll forgive it, I know you will; since the confession should not have come from me even now, but to convince you of the sincerity of my intention of-never mentioning it more. [Going.

Miss Richland. Stay, sir, one moment-Ha! he here

Miss Richland. Sooner, sir, I should hope.
Lofty. Why, yes, I believe it may, if it falls

How have I sunk by too great an assiduity to into proper hands, that know where to push and