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THE 
 
 DEAF LOVER; 
 
 IN TWO ACTS ; 
 
 AS PERFORMED AT THE THITATRE ROYAL, CO 
 VENT GARDEN, AND AT THE PHILADEL- 
 PHIA AND BALTIMORE THEATRES, 
 
 BY F: PILON. 
 
 WASHINGTON: 
 
 J-BiiVTED AND PUBLISHED BY DAVIS &, FORCE, (fRANKLIN' 
 HEAD.) PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE. 
 
 3 823, 
 
 
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? prologuj:. 
 
 « 
 
 Written by the Author, and Spoken by 
 Mr. Lee Lewes. 
 
 STATESMEN and Poets, oft', one fortune find ; 
 
 This Court being discontent, our Bard resign'd ; 
 
 That is to say, resigned as Courtiers mean. 
 
 He was turn'd out, but would come in again. 
 
 On one good point he's bent, a reformation, J 
 
 And bade me tell this grand Association, > 
 
 He now had made a total alteration. } 
 
 Mistakenly, he built on Gallic ground, 
 
 But prov'd French wit was, like French faith, un- 
 
 found ; 
 Hence wiser grown, he's cautious in his views, 
 And makes no foreign compacts for his Muse. 
 On foreign aid 'tis hazardous reliance, 
 But certain ruin's in a French alliance. 
 By Gar, Monsieur will say, you mistake quite. 
 JVJon fais my country, be toujours right ; 
 llfaui voiis aller, you must go to France, 
 If you will learn to mak 3 hon alliance ; 
 Par r alliance Bourbon, W3 long trick you ; 
 Par V alliance Ainericue, trick dem too 5 
 V^oila Monsieur, cVEstaing, has he not play'd, 
 One pretty trick, in taking de Grenade ? 
 Is he not grand, invincible Hero ? 
 Arrah, replies Teague, ask General Prevost! 
 So much with shot he bother'd him, they say, 
 He play'd an old French trick and run away . 
 
Now home to France he's gone with broken thigh, 
 His leg being wounded, says he came too nigh ; 
 ^nd, by St. Patrick, he deserved his fate, 
 Who would not give the woman a retraat ; 
 Had but the Irish brigade been there. 
 They'd given their hearts before they'd hurt the fair. 
 But talk no more of Heroes— name me one, ^ 
 Like the brave tar, who met the Spanish Don > 
 Without a sword, and gave him up his own.* y 
 
 Oh ! such a trick, with all your gasconade, 
 No French monsieur, or Spaniard ever play'd. 
 But whilst for valour's crown great nations fight, 
 And while ambition takes the name of Right ; 
 Ambiguous states, each diff'rent power to fleece, 
 Equal suspend the scale of war and peace ; 
 Abjure all principle, but that they've lent. 
 And now no interest, but cent, per cent ; 
 But, rouz'd by wrongs, the Genius of the land, 
 In self-collected might,' more firm shall stand ; 
 Hibernia's cause, and Britain's now made one, ^ 
 We boast a fam'ly compact of our own ; \ 
 
 Defies the treach'rous compact of Bourbon. ) 
 
 Whilst Justice, as a flaming iEgis, throws 
 Confusion and dismay on England's foes ; 
 Her thunder to the world shall speak again. 
 She reigns th' unshaken Sovereign of the main. 
 
 *Onfi of his own; or he had been a fool, not a hero. ^ Vide Raymond's 
 History of England, 
 
 The Paragraphs between inverted commas, (thus *' ") are 
 omitted in the representation. 
 
THE 
 
 ACT L 
 SCENE I. 
 
 A Room at an Inn. Meadows discovered in a Riding-dr&s$ 
 with CANTEEivr. Table, chairs, pen, ink, and paper. 
 
 Mea. Was there no possibility of bribing one of 
 the servants ? 
 
 Can, None in the world, sir, which indeed surpriz- 
 ed me, for though I must confess they have all good 
 places, I have known folks with better, and in a greater 
 man's service, who would not let a bribe slip through 
 their fingers for want of the trouble of clinching the 
 fist upon it. 
 
 Mea. What sliall I do, Canteen ? you are an old 
 campaigner, and should be ripe with stratagem in 
 desperate cases ! 
 
 Can. I have got a scheme to serve you, if yoail 
 undertake it. 
 
 Mea. Can you doubt me ? 
 
 Can. Then be attentive : Old Wrongward's house, 
 on the approaching wedding, is thronged as a fair 
 with company ; dress yourself in the style of an el- 
 A ? 
 
6 THE DEAF LOVER. [PiloD. 
 
 derly gentleman travelling the country ; pretend to ' 
 misapprehend every body.. In short, assume the cha- 
 racter of a deaf man, and, thus disguised, put up at 
 his house, as if you took it for an inn. 
 
 Mea. Pho ! Pho ! 1 shall be taken before a magis- 
 trate. 
 
 Can. Not you, indeed, sir; at all these public wed- 
 dings, there are a great number of strangers invited 
 by the chief guests; you'll pass as a friend to some of 
 the company — But grant you are taken for the cha- 
 racter you assume, an old, deaf, blundering blockhead, 
 your mistakes will create so much entertainment, 
 that nobody will think of turning you out of doors 
 till you have full opportunity of discovering yourself 
 to your mistress. 
 
 Mea. And do you think she'll listen to me ? 
 
 Can. I'm sure of it, sir; I'd stake my life to a car- 
 touch box, that your letters from camp have been 
 intercepted, and somedamn'd story trump'd up by that 
 old viliian, her guardian, to make her marry his own 
 son. 
 
 Mea. It must be so, my Sophia otherwise never 
 could have forgot me. 
 
 Can. It must be so ! Lord, sir, if you were not bo 
 much in love, it would appear to you as plain as a 
 pike-staff; but when once love gets into a man's 
 head, poor reason is brought before a court-martial of 
 the passions, and cashiered without a hearing. 
 
 Mea. But it will be necessary to apprize Sophia 
 of tnis; if I can by any means convey a letter to her. 
 
 Can. A light breaks in upon me ; I met a little 
 fiower girl standing at the inn-door, as fresh and as 
 blooming as the sweetest rose in her basket — Don't 
 
Act I.] THE DEAF LOVER. 7 
 
 you imagine a letter might be conveyed by her into 
 the garrison ? 
 
 Mea. Can we trust her ? 
 
 Can, She's as sure as a rifle barrel, sir ; — You 
 know what a smooth tongue and a smart figure will 
 do with a girl in the country; I liave persuaded her 
 that I am over head and ears in love with her — and 
 have swore by the god of love, and the god of battles, 
 that I'll make her Mrs. Canteen, if she pleases, before 
 to-morrow morning. 
 
 Mea. Where is she ? 
 
 Can. Selling nosegays to passengers, as they go in 
 and out of their carriages; but I'll bring her to you, 
 sir, in the drawing of a trigger, in the mean time 
 write your letter ; — there's pen, ink, and paper on 
 the table. [^Exit Canteen, o. p. 
 
 Mea. (Writing.) My all depends on her receiv- 
 ing this letter — otherwise, the surprize of so unex- 
 pectedly meeting me, might occasion a discovery — 
 (Seeing Canteen and Betsy Blossom.) Oh ! here 
 come Mars and Venus already. 
 
 Enter Cawteen and Betsy Blossom, o. p. 
 
 Bet. Nosegays, your honour ? 
 
 Mea. Come hither, my pretty dear, and let me see 
 them. [Looks in the basket. 
 
 Bet. O sir, don't tumble over my basket ! I can't 
 let you pick and choose at a common price. 
 
 Can. i^Aside to her.) Let him take which he pleas- 
 es, he's as generous as a prince, hussey. 
 
 Bet. Is he ? by Gosh then he shall have the myrtle 
 and the jessamine, and the two moss roses I was tak- 
 ing up to the Squire's, where the great wedding fs 
 to be. 
 
d THE DEAF LOVER, [Pilon, 
 
 Mea. What's that you say ? Are you going to the 
 house, where the great wedding is to be ? 
 
 Bet. Yes, and 1 shall sell all my nosegays there;, 
 and am promised a ribband for a bride favour by 
 John the butler. 
 
 Ca?i. O ho ! John the butler ! I find I'm not sole 
 proprietor of my little nosegay merchant. 
 
 Mea. [Taking her hythe hand.) Now, my sweet 
 dear, blooming little Flora, if you will grant me one 
 favour, I will give you a guinea. 
 
 Bet. Who I, sir ! I'd have you to know, sir, that 1 
 scorn your guineas — I am no such parson — thougli 
 I'm poor, I'm honest, that let me tell you — and I'd 
 rather sell nosegays with my vartue, than ride in a 
 coach and six without it. 
 
 Can. Zounds I what an explosion was there, from 
 a carbine like a pocket pistol — Why, who's going to 
 meddle with your vartue ? I tell you, you may keep 
 the guinea and your vartue together. 
 
 Bet. May I? 
 
 Can. Yes; but I find, Betsy, I'm greatly deceived 
 in your temper. I thought you were as meek as a 
 violet, but I find you are as sharp as a sweet briar. 
 
 Mea. I only want you, my dear, to take this letter 
 for me, and deliver it into the young lady's hand who 
 is lo be married to-morrow ; and to take care that 
 nobody sees you. 
 
 Bet. As sure as a gun I know who you are. 
 
 Mea. Aye, prithee, who am I ? 
 
 Bet. You are her old sweetheart, and she has turn- 
 ed false-hearted. 
 
 Caji. Oons, what a witch it is ! I'll go and prepare 
 your drees, gir. [Exit Canteen, o. p. 
 
Act L] THE "DEAF LOVER. 9 
 
 Bet, It's the talk of the whole village how Miss 
 Sophia had tbrsaken a malicious officer that was in 
 love with her. 
 
 Mea. Will you take this letter for me ? 
 
 Bet. That I will with all my heart, — and between 
 ourselves, though I am a poor girl, give her her own 
 into the bargain. 
 
 Mea. My dear, you must not say a word to her ; 
 only deliver the letter. 
 
 Bet. What, then you would not have me scold her ? 
 
 Mea. By no means, — that would ruin me forever 
 in her esteem ; but what is your name, my love ? 
 
 Bet. Betsy Blossom, an't please you. [Curtsying, 
 
 Mea, Well, my dear Betsy, go off immediately, 
 and remember that the whole happiness of my life 
 
 depends on your care and secrecy. 
 
 [Exeunt p. s. Betty o. p. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Old Wrong ward and Steri^hold discovered. Sternhold 
 Reading the Papers to him^ Old Wrongward in his Gou- 
 iy Chair, wrapt up in Flannels. — Great Chair, Table, iimall 
 Chair, Newspapers on the Table. 
 
 Old Wrong. You are a terrible reader, Sternhold : 
 can't you speak your words shorter ? — you sound 
 every syllable, as if you had a speaking trumpet at 
 your mouth. 
 
 Stern. I can't help it your honour ; it's a way I 
 have got. 
 
 Old Wrong. It's like the grind of an ill-toned bar- 
 nel organ in my ears— but go on, for you were born a 
 
10 THE »EAF LOVER. [PiloD. 
 
 parish clerk, and will chaunt every thing in psalm- 
 tune to the end of the chapter. 
 
 Stern. (Reading. J Rome, April Ist. Yesterday 
 morning, between twelve and one, his Holiness, the 
 Pope, was safely delivered of twins — the mother and 
 children are well, and likely to live. 
 
 Old Wrong. Why is the fellow mad ? The Pope 
 delivered of twins ! Zounds ! you may as well tell me 
 of St. Paul's dancing the hayes, or the Monument 
 turning prize-6ghter. 
 
 Sterti. Shall I go on ? 
 
 Old Wrons^. Read over that last article again, for 
 I'm sure you have made a blunder. 
 
 Stern. (Reads.) Rome, April 1st. Yesterday morn- 
 ing, between twelve and one, his Holiness the Pope, 
 was safely delivered of twins — the mother and chil- 
 dren are well, and likely to live. 
 
 Old Wrong' Truly this is a most extraordinary 
 event, if it be a fact, and must cause strange confusion 
 among the Cardinals ; but upon second thoughts, it's 
 not altogether past belief, for there's a well known 
 story of a female Pope, who was discovered by her 
 pregnancy. Pope Joan, I think she was called — but 
 give me the paper, for damn me if I can believe it 
 yet — {Takes the Paper and Reads.) " Mr. Printer, if 
 you think the following cross readings" — cross read- 
 ings ! ha I ha ! ha I — confound those cros? readingb— 
 as if things were not cross enough of themselves. 
 
 Enter Sophia and Betsy Blossom, p. s. 
 
 Soph. (Aside to Betsy,) And he seemed deeply 
 concerned ? 
 
 Bet. Oh, deeply concerned, and his eyes, poor soul. 
 AS red as blood with crying. 
 
Act I.] THE DEAF LOVER. 11 
 
 Old Wrojig' Is Dot that Sophy I see ? eh ! how's 
 this ? where's ray son George ! has the rascal the ifii' 
 pudence to stir an inch from your apron string ? 
 
 Soph. Sir, he cannot with propriety leave tiie com- 
 pany ; raOre especially, as infirmities prevent your 
 entertaining them. 
 
 Old Wrong. Infirmities, why what infirmities have 
 I got, except a little touch of the gout, now and then ' 
 If I could walk, and had the use of my right hand, and 
 «ouId see without spectacles, I'd be as hale a man as 
 any in the county. (Seeing Betsy Blossom.) But 
 who is that little blooming rogue with you ? 
 
 Soph. A flower-girl, sir ; she has brought me some 
 jessamine and moss roses. 
 
 Old Wrong. Ay ? tell her to come this way, and 
 let me look at her moss roses. 
 
 Soph. (Aside to Betsy.) Go shew him your 
 nosegays, Betsy, and keep him in chat, whilst I run 
 and write an answer. 
 
 Bet. But Lord, Ma'am, he bears such a terrible 
 character, I'm afraid to go nigh him. 
 
 Soph. Pho ! pho ! never fear him ; he has not been 
 out of that chair, except at bed times, these three 
 months, but is rolled up and down the house like a 
 great baby; go to him, I say, and I'll return imme- 
 diately. [^Exit Sophia, p. s. 
 
 Old Wrong. You may go about your business, 
 Sternhold, I'm tired of your damn'd drone— It's worse 
 than an old cloath's man in London, 
 
 Stern. Lord ! Lord ! what will this world come to ! 
 
 {^Exit Sterivhold. o. p. 
 
 Bet, (Aside.) By Goss, as he can't budge, I'll 
 have a little fun with him- 
 
12 THE DEAF LOVER, [PilOD. 
 
 Old Wrong. Come hither, my pretty maid, and let 
 me look at your moss roses. 
 
 Bet. fRuns up to him. J Aye, to be sure, sir, there 
 are not so fine one's in all the country. 
 
 Old Wrong. (Taking up the Jlowers.) Upon my 
 word they are fine ones — But is Sophy gone ? Is 
 there nobody sees us ? 
 
 Bet. Not a soul, we are both together, all alone 
 by ourselves. 
 
 Old Wrong. But are you sure that there's no body 
 listening ? 
 
 Bel. Oh ! very sartin, sir. 
 
 Old Wrong. Then give me a kiss, you little smil- 
 ing rogue. 
 
 Bet. O, dear sir, wouldn't you be ashamed to kisa 
 such a poor girl a* I ? 
 
 Old Wrong. Ashamed ! not I, by the Lord Harry ; 
 come hither, I say. 
 
 Bet. (Aside.) Now to plague him — Why you must 
 know, sir, that I'm afraid some of the family will see 
 us; but if you'll fetch a walk with me any where. 
 
 Old Wrong. Fetch a walk with her ! I could as 
 soon fetch the Tower upon my back. 
 
 Bet. But now I look at your legs, I suppose you 
 can't walk.— lud, they're like mill-posts. 
 
 Old Wrong. No, no, not quite so bad, they're a 
 little swelled, to be sure, but there's a great deal of 
 flannel about them. 
 
 Bet, Shall I help you, sir ? 
 
 [Takes him by the hand and pulls him. 
 
 Old Wrong. (Roars out. J Zounda ! you've broke 
 my arm, you jade. 
 
 ^Soph. (Without, p. s.) Betsy ! 
 
Act I.] THE DEAF LOVEH, lo 
 
 Bd. I'm coming, Ma'am. [^Going. 
 
 Old JVrang. Then you won't come and kiss me, 
 hussey ? 
 
 Bet. I think it is you that won't kiss me, sir. — 
 LorcJ! sir, if you want a kiss, why don't you come 
 and take it ? 
 
 Old JVrong. Oyou wicked baggage, you know that I 
 can't stir — I'd give half my estate for a pair of legs 
 to be revenged of you- 
 
 Bel. Then you won't fetch a walk, sir, nor give me 
 a kiss — very well ! — I'll not be denied the next man 
 1 ask — good bye, sir — 1 must go, ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 lExit Betsy, o. s. 
 
 Enter Young Wrokgward. o. p. 
 
 Young Wrong. What, sir, is not Sophia here ? 
 
 Old IVron^. She was here this moment. 
 
 Youns; IVronsr. What's the matter with vou, sir ? I 
 hope you're not ill ? 
 
 Old Wrong. No, but I was bargaining for some 
 moss roses, and they have pricked my fingers so con- 
 foundedly. 
 
 Yowig Wrong. I have very bad news to tell you, 
 sir ; Meadows has been seen about the house. 
 
 Old Wrong. The Devil he has ! Then, boy, we 
 are undone. If she sees him, our intercepting his 
 letters, and the story of his marriage with another, 
 will all be discovered. 
 
 Young Wrong. She has seen no stranger to day ? 
 
 Old Wrong. Not a soul, to my knowledge, except 
 a poor little innocent flo*ver girl. 
 
 Young Wrong. It's no matter; that woman, I am 
 persuaded, has brought her a letter. 
 B 
 
14 THE DEAF LOVER. [Pilon. 
 
 Old Wrong. Ecod, like enough. 
 
 Young Wrong. Then, sir, if you will sit with the 
 company, I'll go in pursuit of her, and if in the pow- 
 er of gold, I'll get every thing out of her. 
 
 [Exit Young Wrojsgward. p. s. 
 
 Old Wrong. Aye, with all my heart, — here Wil- 
 liam. 
 
 Enter- William, o. p. 
 
 M^il. Did you call, sir ! 
 
 Old Wrong. Roll me in to the company. (William 
 goes behind the chair and rolls it. J Softly you rascal, 
 if legs could be purchased, what wouldn't I give for 
 a new pair ? 
 
 [Exit William rolling off" Old Wrongward. o. v. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 Chfinges to the outside of Old Wrongward's House. 
 Enter John. p. s. 
 
 John. What a couple of damn'd rogues my master 
 and ] are, to stop ail these here letters — it would go 
 greatly against my conscience, only for what I get 
 b> it — Well, my master cheats his ward, and I cheat 
 my master, for he has never seen this picture, (pulls 
 Old a Miniature) nor the letter that came with it yet ; 
 if these ar'n t mock diamonds round it, it will bring 
 a pretty penny — let me see now. 
 
 Enter Betsy Blossom, p. s. 
 
 Bet. Good day, Mr. John. 
 
 John. Ah ! my pretty Betsy—come hither my lit- 
 tle dear. 
 
Act l.J THE DEAF LOVER. 15 
 
 Bet. What^s that you are looking at so close, Mi. 
 Jolio ? 
 
 John. Only a picture, my love, are you a good 
 judj^e of painting, Betsy ? 
 
 Bet- Painting ! Lord, sir, you must ask some fine 
 London lady that question ; we poor folks in the 
 country, know nothing of the matter. 
 
 John. How do you like that, Betsy ? 
 
 [Shews her the Miniature. 
 
 Bet. It has a vast fine frame round it. 
 
 John. Yes, yes, you are a great judge of painting, 
 I see clearly. 
 
 Bet. And looks as natural as you that are speaking 
 to me, 
 
 John. Eh! why, zounds! she takes it for my pic- 
 ture. 
 
 Bet. What fine eyes I 
 
 John. Fine eyes! oh ! yes, she takes it for me. 
 
 Bet, And two cheeks like cherries — then such 
 pretty hair — so curl'd, so frized and so flowered, it 
 looks like a white thorn in full blossom. 
 
 John. You must know, my dear, I wore my hair 
 so, when that v/as drawn for me. 
 
 Bet. Is this your picture, Mr. John ? 
 
 Johti. I thought you knew that already. 
 
 Bet. I vow, 1 took it for a gentleman's. 
 
 John. What, then, you don't think it like me ? 
 
 Bet. Like you ! no more like you than a carnation 
 is like a butcher's broom. 
 
 John. Butcher's broom ! What a Fleet-market 
 comparison ! — You think, then, I am altered since 
 it was drawn for me ? 
 
 Bet, Oh ! quite changed, you are as brown as a 
 
16 THE DEAF LOVER, [Piloii. 
 
 cheynut to what you were ; and your eyes, that were 
 once so blue, are now as grey as the very willows. 
 
 John, I am sitting for a striking likeness, I find. 
 
 Bet. Then your forehead's grown square — your chin 
 sharp — your nose flat — your teeth — no, they're not 
 grown at all — for 1 can't see above one or two left 
 in your head. 
 
 John. Zounds ! have done, you unmerciful bag- 
 gage : give me my picture. I may be altered a lit- 
 tle, but it is impossible I can be so damnably meta- 
 morphosed as you describe. 
 
 Bet, What, after making a bargain ? 
 
 Enter Yovng WroxgwArd. p. s. 
 
 Young Wrong. So, so, Mr. John, what bargain is 
 this you have been striking ? 
 
 John. Bargain ! Sir — 1 was only agreeing about 
 some tulips. 
 
 Bet. That was all, your honour — John only want- 
 ed some tulips of me- 
 
 John. (Aside to Betsy.) Not a word of the picture. 
 
 Young Wro7ig. But, sir, can't the gardiner supply 
 you ? 
 
 Johti. Sir, he says I want too many, and that he 
 won't spoil his beds to please me or any man in Eng- 
 land. 
 
 Bet. Now, sir, I can give him plenty, and never 
 mind spoiling a bed when it is made worth my while. 
 
 Young Wrong. 1 believe you, young damsel 
 
 Harkee, John, (Aside to John.) — 1 suppose this girl 
 has been employed by Meadows to convey a letter 
 to Sophia. Get you gone, and I'll sound her. 
 
 John You had better leave her tome, sir. 
 
Act I.J THE DEAF LOVEIU 17 
 
 Young If'rong. No, no, she's too artful for you. 
 
 John. Ay, and for you too, I'll be sworn — I don't 
 like to leave her alone with him. 
 
 Young Wrong, Not gone, yet, sir ? 
 
 John. Oh ! yes, I'm gone — (Aside.) — Very far 
 gone, I find, in love, for now am I as jealous as the 
 devil of him — Oh ! my poor picture, I shall never see 
 i4's face again. [Exit Johx. p. s. 
 
 Young Wrong, Can you keep a secret my dear ? 
 
 Bet. 1 don't know, sir; I never was tried. 
 
 Young Wrong. Come, come, I know you have ; 
 and if you'll divulge it to me, I'll give you mare than 
 you got from Captain Meadows. 
 
 Bet. Captain Meadows ! who is he, sir.^ 
 I don't know him — (Aside) he's only pumping me 
 now, but he shall get nothing by it. 
 
 Young Wrung. What, then, you have neither 
 brought nor received a letter here to-day ? 
 
 Bet. Lord, sir, who'd trust the likes of me with a 
 letter ? 
 
 Young Wro7ig. Let me see, now, in which pocket 
 have you got it. \_Atie7npts to search her. 
 
 Bet. Keep your hands to yourself, I have nothing 
 smuggled about me~you shan't rummage me like a 
 custom-house officer. 
 
 Young Wrong. (Pulls out a purse.) Look at this, 
 liussey — I have both power and inclination to reward 
 you. 
 
 Bet. I'm sure, sir, there's nothing I wouldn't do to 
 serve you. 
 
 Young Wrong. Then you'll give me the letter J? 
 
 Bet. Letter ! Lord, sir, what letter ? 
 B 2 
 
18 THE DEAF LOVER. [Pilon. 
 
 Young Wrong. Come, I insist upon your taking this. 
 (Gives her money ) And now- 
 
 Bet. And now, your honour, I'll go home to my fa- 
 ther's, and bring you the letter immediately- 
 
 Young Wrong. Your father's ! how came it there ? 
 
 Bet. It came by the post, yesterday, from Devon- 
 shire. 
 
 Young Wrong. DeFonshire ! what (he devil is De- 
 vonshire to me ? 
 
 Bet. I thought you wanted to know something 
 about my brother, the gardiner, who wrote us a main 
 long letter yesterday, and, what surprized us all, he's 
 going to be married. 
 
 Young Wrong. A most interesting piece of infor- 
 mation I must confess. She's a downright idiot. — 
 How ridiculous do my suspicions make me ! 
 
 \Exit Young Wrokgward. p. s. 
 
 BeL By Goss, I've trickt him nicely. So now to 
 my dear Mr. Canteen. [Canteen Enters o- p. 
 
 Can. Ah I Betsy, I've been watching you, and I 
 feared you'd have turned traitor and betrayed us. 
 
 Bet. No, Mr. Canteen? I never would do that — I 
 would not betray you, no, not for five pound. 
 
 Can. What, not for five pound ? O matchless fidel- 
 ity ! — But come, have you got an answer ? 
 
 Bet. Yes, I have that and John's picture both to- 
 gether. 
 
 Can. John's picture ? Well, this is the first time 
 I ever knew a man vain of his ugliness ! if I had such 
 an old lion's head riveted upon n)y shoulders, I'd quar- 
 rel with a bason of spring water, for reflecting my own 
 countenance on me. 
 
 ./"^ 
 
Act I.] THE DEAF LOVER. 19 
 
 Bet. Aye— but his picture is very haudsonie — ^it's 
 no more like him than box is like southern-wood. 
 
 Can. No, (hen he has set for his picture by proxy, or 
 perhaps, like many other coxcombs, purchased it, as 
 we sometimes do shoes, ready made. But come, let 
 as look at it. 
 
 Bet. Here it is. [Shews the Miniature. 
 
 Can. Zounds ! this is my master's picture. 
 
 Bet. What, Captain Meadows's ? 
 
 Can. His own likeness — and the very miniature I 
 saw him inclose about six weeks ago to Miss Sophia. 
 
 Bet. As sure as can be, he stole it- 
 Caw. I don't know how he came by it : but you're 
 certain he gave it you ? 
 
 Bet. Quite sartin. 
 
 Can. Then come a long, my Betsy ; if you behave 
 well now, Til make great advantages of this discove- 
 ry : you shall introduce me to John as your brother, 
 and I'll terrify him into a confession before I have 
 done with him. [Exit Betsy and Cantee.v. p. s. 
 
 Enter Meadows, Dirguised as an Old Gentleman, with the 
 Groom, p. s. 2d ejv. 
 
 Mea. I hope your hay is good, friend ? 
 
 Groom. It's no matter how my hay is. I tell you, 
 you are mistaken in the house ; this is no inn. 
 
 Mea. Why if you think so, give him a feed of oats ; 
 but take care to rub him down well. 
 
 Groom. Rub down the devil ! I tell you njy mas- 
 ter keeps no inn. 
 
 Mea. Throw a few beans among the oats, if you 
 have any. 
 
OQ THE DEAF LOVER, [Piloil. 
 
 Groom. Throw a few beans among the oats! — 
 Zounds! who promised to give you any oats ? 
 
 Mea, That's a good lad, I know you'll take care 
 of him. 
 
 Groom. He's as deaf as a door nail. — he doesn't 
 understand a word 1 say. 
 
 Mea. Did you speak to me, young man ? 
 
 Groom. I have been bawling to you this hour, lo 
 tell you this is no inn : yonder is the George, or the 
 Swan, or the King's Arms, where you'll get your 
 horse and yourself taken care of. 
 
 [B aiding in his ear, 
 
 Mea. Well, well, I'll take your word for the good- 
 ness of your corn ; you had no occasion to be so 
 loud in praise of it- 
 
 Groom. What- the devil shall I do with him ? He 
 drove his horse into the stable, before I knew where 
 I was, and if I turn him adrift, I shall be prosecuted. 
 
 Mea. My good lad, do you hear me ? 
 
 Groom, I wish 1 could make you hear me as plain. 
 
 Mea. I like your countenance. 
 
 Groom. That's more than I do your's 
 
 Mea. There's something in it tells me, you will 
 do the beast justice, therefore, here's a shilling foe 
 you — and if I find I have not been mistaken in the 
 opinion I have formed of you, I shall remember you 
 when I go away also. 
 
 Groom. This is the first word of sense I have got 
 out of him — well, as his horse is in the stable, let 
 him stay there ; my master, I am sure, will never 
 miss his one night's keep ; but then the best joke 
 will be when he gets into the house — ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 I shall kill myself with laughing at the thoughts of it. 
 
Act I.] THE DEAF LOVER. 21 
 
 Mea. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Very good, very good indeed. 
 
 Groom. What (he devil does he laugh at ? 
 
 Mca. I find you are a fellow of a good deal of hu- 
 mour. 
 
 Groom, Humour ! What does he mean ? 
 
 Mea. You tell a devilish good slory, but I can't 
 stay to hear the end of it, lor I'm greatly fatigued, 
 and very weary — now remember you rub him down 
 well, and don't forget the beans amongst the oats. 
 
 [Exit Meadows, o. p. 
 
 Groom. I tell a devilish good story, and have a 
 great deal of humour ! If 'tis so, you are the first that 
 ever discovered my talents — Well 1 I have got a 
 shilling from you, so mum's the word, you're deaf — 
 I am dumb, old gentleman. [Exit Groom. 
 
 ACT II. 
 SCENE I. 
 
 »•? Hall in Old Wrongward's House ; several Servants fun- 
 ning across the Stage with Supper. 
 
 Enter William, o. p. 
 
 Wil, He's swearing like a dragon about the iced 
 cream. 
 
 Bob. I wish he was to feed upon nothing else till his 
 temper became a^ cool as his stomach. 
 
 Enter Cook. p. s. 
 
 Cook. A man had better stand cook in Belzebub's 
 kitchen. Here have I been broiling myself like a 
 
22 THE DEAF LOVER. [PiloU. 
 
 beef-steak, for these two liours, and am thanked in a 
 volly ot oaths for it atterwards. 
 
 Enter Thomas, p. s. 
 
 Tho. There's not a drop of Madeira in the room; 
 and the butler ia to be turned off to-morrow. 
 
 Enter Meadows, o. p. 
 
 Mea, Aye, I like this. — It's an old saying, good 
 business makes a good house. 
 
 Wil. This is some gentleman invited to supper — 
 we bad better tell him it's on the table. 
 
 Boh. Certainly ! — It's on the table, sir. 
 
 Mea. No, I'll not pull off my boots till I go to bed. 
 
 Wil. Pull off his boots I who said any thing about 
 his boots ? Though now I look at them, damn me if 
 ever I saw a dirtier pair in the course of my life* 
 
 Mea. What have you got for supper ? 
 
 Wil. Every thing the season can afford is on the 
 table, sir. 
 
 Mea. Why, you blockhead, woodcocks are not in 
 season. 
 
 Wil. I said nothing about woodcocks — but, sir, 
 there's a delightful carp stewed in claret — a tine jack 
 roasted with a pudding in his belly — some choice 
 pheasants — and such cherry tarts — apple pies, jellies, 
 iced creams, and sweetmeats, that my teeth water at 
 the bare thoughts of them. 
 
 Mea. Very well, that will do my friend ; but take 
 care you get me some good mushroom sauce to it. 
 
 Boh. Mushroom sauce I to what, sir ? 
 
 Mea, A broiled fowl will do well enough. 
 
Act II.] THE I>EAF LOVER. 23 
 
 WiL A broiled fowl ! I didn't mention a word of 
 broiled fowl— did I Bob ? 
 
 Bob. Not a syllable. 
 
 Wil. Zounds ! he'vS deaf. 
 
 Bob- Or mad ; speak louder to bim. 
 
 E^il, (Bawling in his ear. J Sqpper is on the table, 
 sir; and if you are invited to the house by my mas- 
 ter, it will be as much as our places are worth, if we 
 do not bring you up to him immediately. 
 
 Mca. Well, do the best you can for me. 
 
 Wil. Ah ! it's all in vain to talk to him ; let us see 
 if we can make him understand by signs. 
 
 [Makes signs they tvill shew Jiirn the tvay. 
 
 Mecf. Bless you, my lad, I am not particular. 
 
 [Exit Meadows ajid Servants, r. s. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 C%anges to an elegant ./Apartment — Old Wroxgward, Yoita^g 
 Wrong WARD, and a large Party at Supper. 
 
 Old Wrong. Fill me a bumper of Madeira — though 
 the enemy has got possession of the greater part of 
 my outworks, I'll take care to keep him from the ci- 
 tadel) whilst there's a flask in my cellar to support 
 me. [Drink:). 
 
 Enter Meadows and William, o. p. 
 
 WiL This way, sir. 
 
 Alea. Aye ! I see all your rooms are full, but it's 
 no matter, I'm fond of company. 
 
 Old Wrong. (Aside to Young Wrong.) Her<»'<? a 
 stranger ; do you know binij George ? 
 
24 THE DEAF LOVER. [Pilon^ 
 
 Young Wrong, I suppose he's a friend to some of 
 the company. 
 
 Old Wrong. Certainly — go to him, boy, and ask 
 him ifjie4»as supped. 
 
 * Yoitng Wrong. (Comes to Meadows.) Sir, I esteem 
 myself particularly honoured in the favour of this 
 visit — here, William, lay a side table lor this gentle- 
 man — As we are just done supper, I beg, sir, you'll 
 not consider yourself a stranger* \Jietirai to his scat, 
 
 Mea. Very dear, indeed, sir ; good Virginia is ve- 
 ry hard to be come at, but 1 always carry a box of 
 Oroonoko in my pocket. [Pulls out a box. 
 
 [A table is laid for Meadows; he sits. 
 
 Old Wrong. {To Meadows.) Warm travelling, sir. 
 
 Mea. There was none stirring when I was in town, 
 sir. 
 
 Old Wrong. Stirring ! no nor moving for it, sir, in 
 this part of the world — though the gout confines me 
 to this chair, I feel myself as hot as if I was roasting 
 on the coast oi Guinea. 
 
 Enter Sophia, o. p. 
 
 Soph. (Aside.) Yonder he sits ; if he should be dis- 
 covered, all my hopes of happiness are gone forever. 
 
 Mea. (Aside.) " I feel myself in such agitation at 
 '* the sight of my Sophia, that I fear it will mar my 
 "counterfeiting-" 
 
 [Sophia 51/5 next /o Young Wrong ward — they talk. 
 
 Old Wrong' Come, old gentleman, I'll give you a 
 toast, that I'm sure you'll have no objection to — here's 
 to the young couple. [All the company drink. 
 
 Mea. " With all my heart ; I'm sure he has not a 
 '■^ better subject in his dominions. 
 
Act II.] THE DEAF LOVER. 25 
 
 Old Wrong, ** Ay, and what's better, he's going the 
 '^ right road to raise more good subjects." 
 
 Mea, " The King !" 
 
 Old Wronz. " The King ! Why I drank my son 
 " and daughter, that is to he's, health.'' 
 
 Med. Ah, sir ! there's no answering for what peo- 
 ple will say. 
 
 Old Wrong. No answering for what people will say ! 
 damn me ii ever I knew any thing so impudent in 
 the whole course of my life before. 
 
 Yotmg Wrong. Pray does any of the company 
 know him ? 
 
 1st Lady. I don't for my part. 
 
 I st Gentleman. Nor I. 
 
 2nd Lady. Nor I. 
 
 2nd Gentleman. Nor I, nor any of us. 
 
 All. No, not one of us. 
 
 Soph. How I tremble for him, now. 
 
 Old Wrong. Here, William, who shewed this old 
 fellow here ? 
 
 Wil. I did, sir ; I took him to be one of the coni' 
 pany. 
 
 Old Wrong. Why, nobody here knows him. 
 
 Mea- {To Old Wrongward.) Sir, I have the 
 pleasure of drinking your health. 
 
 Old Wrong. {To Young Wrongward) Did you 
 ever. know any thing like this, George ? 
 
 Mca- {To William.) Do you hear, my lad ? Send 
 up tbe boot-catcher to me. 
 
 Old Wrong. Send up the boot-catcher to him, we'll 
 send up the thief-catcher to him—this fellow is come 
 to rob the house, and ought to be thrown in a horse- 
 pond. 
 
 G 
 
26 THE DEAF LOVER. [PilOD* 
 
 Mea. This wine is devilish good ; but I have a 
 poor head, and am very sleepy — Bon repos, good folks, 
 I must leave you. [Gets up. 
 
 Old Wrons^- Stop him, George, 
 
 jYoujVG Wrongward and Company stop him. 
 
 Mea. Why, gentlemen, all this pressing ? It \% 
 to no purpose ; 1 am determined to go to bed ; 
 and as a proof of it, there's half a crown for my 
 share of the bill, as I can't stay till it's called — will 
 nobody give me a light ? 
 
 Old Wrong. (To William.) Why, you rascal, can 
 you give no rational account of this man ? 
 
 Wil. All 1 can tell you is, he has set the whole 
 family in an uproar — the groom says he's deaf — the 
 butler says he's mad ; but all agree in pronouncing 
 him the most impudent, troublesome, dirty old fel- 
 low that ever came into a house — do but look at 
 his boots, sir. 
 
 Soph. (Aside.) Love has inspired me with a thought 
 for his deliverance. (Comes forward.) Bless me I 1 
 know this gentleman's face perfectly well — it is the 
 celebrated Doctor Humdrum ; I saw him several 
 times at Bath, though I never spoke to him : he's 
 the first physician in England ; but has been troubled 
 with the most obstinate deafness for several years — 
 and, what is most extraordinary, does every thing in 
 his power to conceal it. 
 
 Old Wrong. Deaf ! why does he come here to plague 
 lis with his deafness ? 
 
 Soph. I thought, sir, you had more humanity than 
 not to feel for such a misfortune. 
 
 Old Wrong. But are you sure he's deaf? 
 
 Soph. Does not hear a word you say to him 
 
Act H.] THE DEAF LOVER. 27 
 
 Mea. You'll let me go to bed, then ? upon my soul, 
 it gives me pain to part from such good company — 
 but I'm quite weary. 
 
 Old Wrong. Ay, poor gentleman, I pity him, he 
 shall have a bed — he has taken the house for an inn, 
 I suppose ; a very good joke faith — ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 Mea. Ha ! ha ! ha ! a dev'lish good song, a dev- 
 ilish good song indeed ; but I can't stay to encore it. 
 Bon repoSy bon repos ! [Exit Meadows, lighted, o. p. 
 
 Old Wrong. George, do you go and see the gentle- 
 man is taken great care of. 
 
 [Fiddles behind. Exit Young Wrong ward. o. p. 
 
 Old Wrong. Ha ! here comes the fiddles — come 
 girls, foot it away, I'll sit up with you an hour extra- 
 ordinary, and if this confounded gout would give my 
 joints a holiday, I'd have a reel with the youngest of 
 you. 
 
 [A Dance. Exeunt rolling off Old WRONCWARn. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 A Chamber. 
 Enter Sophia, Canteen, and Betsy Blossom, p. s. 
 
 Soph. So, Captain Meadows's servant is your bro- 
 ther, Betsy. 
 
 Bet Oh, that was only—he ! he ! 
 
 [With affected Confusion. 
 
 Can. Yes, Ma'am, as Betsy would say, that was 
 only to deceive John, your guardian's privy coun- 
 fiellor. 
 
 Soph. I understand you, you are her sweetheart. 
 
28 THE DEAF LOVER, [Piloil, 
 
 Bet. Oh ! dear, your lay'ship — you do so shame 
 one. 
 
 Soph. But how have you proceeded since this dis- 
 covery ? 
 
 Bet. Vastly clever, I warrant him ; he has fright- 
 ened the butler out of his wits. 
 
 Can, I threatened him with a prosecution for stop- 
 ping the picture, unless he turned Kinjj;'a evidence 
 and informed against his master- — my menaces had 
 the desired effect, and he is devoted to our service. 
 
 Soph. Very well, don't be out of the way for a mo- 
 meat ; I don't know how soon we may want you and 
 your evidence — But, as a reward for your and Betsy's 
 services, whenever you have her consent, I will give 
 her •* portion. [Exit. o. p. 
 
 Bet. I thank your ladyship, I'm sure I do. 
 
 Can. Now is my freedom gone. 
 
 Bet. What you won't marry me? 
 
 Caw. Else how should I lose my freedom ? 
 
 Bet. 1 don't know what you mean, Mr. Canteen, 
 by losing your freedom ; but if I thought you lost any 
 thing when you married me, 1 wouldn't have you for 
 all my love to you. 
 
 Can. Pho! pho! you little fool, by giving up my 
 freedom, I mean I give up my heart into your pos- 
 session for life. 
 
 Bet. Do you '? Then by gosh ! you shall have my 
 heart for life instead of it. [Exeunt, p. s. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 Changes to a Bed-chamber. Enter Meadows followed by a 
 Chambermaid ivith lights. 
 
 Maid. This is my young Jady's apartment ; and 
 YOU must not stay here. 
 
Act II.] THE DEAF LOVER. 29 
 
 Mea. My good girl, you needn't give yourself the 
 trouble, I never have my bed warmed. 
 
 Maid, I didn't come to warm your bed— I want 
 you to get out of the room. 
 
 Mea, No, no, its a bad custom; good night to you. 
 
 Maid. Odds my life, but he'd provoke a saint. — 
 (Very loud.) I tell you again and again that this is 
 my young lady's room, and you must quit it. 
 
 Mea. A sack posset ! I'll not taste it. Come, let 
 me lock my door, for I must be stirring early. 
 
 [She gels between him and the door. 
 
 Maid. The devil a door do you lock here to-night. 
 
 Mea. Ah I you wanton young baggage, I understand 
 you ; but all those days are over with me. 
 
 Maid. Oh, Lord ! what has the old nasty fellow 
 got into his head now ? 
 
 Mea. But come, we'll have one smack, and then 
 bon soir^ 
 
 Maid, Help, help, murder ! [Offers to kiss her. 
 
 Enter Three Servants, o. p. d. 
 
 Wil. What's the matter, Sally ? 
 Maid. This old villian was going to ruinate me. 
 Bob. I wish he was out of the house ; I wonder 
 my master gave him a bed. 
 
 Mea. You'll take care to call me early. 
 
 Bob. Damn me ! if I call you. 
 
 Wil. It's a shame for a man at your years to behave 
 
 80. 
 
 Maid. Ay, an old man like you, with one foot in 
 the grave. 
 
 Mea. You are mistaken, my dear, I can get up as 
 well as any young fellow in EDgland.--I am a mighty 
 C 2 
 
30 THE DEAF LOVER, [Piloil, 
 
 good riser, I must mount early, therefore call me by 
 five. 
 
 Bob. We may as well talk to a stone wall. 
 
 Maid. I shall lose my place for this. 
 
 Mea. You need not wait for the light. 
 
 [Sits down as if to undress, 
 
 WiL Wait for the light! damn me I if 1 had my 
 will, but I'd darken your lights for you, and leave 
 you to grope your way out of the house. 
 
 Mea. Why, I believe, that's the safest way, bo 
 bring mean extinguisher; you're a good natured lad, 
 and I'll remember you for this. 
 
 Wil *' If 1 could write, I'd make him understand 
 me at once. — Can you write, Joe ? 
 
 Joe. " I can chalk main well, but nobody canNinder*- 
 " stand it except myself. 
 
 Wil. " Why you, Bob, went to school, I know. 
 
 Boh. " Ay, but it's so long ago, I forgot all mj 
 *' laming : I'll make my mark, if you please." 
 
 Wil. 'Sdeath and fire, he's undressing! we must 
 do something immediately. 
 
 [Meadows lays down a case of large Pistols. 
 
 Bob. What swinging pistols he has ! 
 
 Mea. Lay you there, my good friends — I hope I 
 shan't have the same need for you here, as at the last 
 Snn where I lay. 
 
 Bob. Do you hear that ? 
 
 Mea- I am sorry I shot the ostler and kitchen 
 maid, I own ; but what am I to think of people who 
 come into my room after I am in bed ? 
 
 All Servants. Oh ? the bloody minded old rogue ! 
 
 Mea. I know the advantages which may be taken 
 of my deafness, and am determined to secure myself. 
 
Act II.] THE DEAF LOVER. 31 
 
 Wil. I am determined to do the same, and so good 
 night. [Runs off. . 
 
 Bob. I'll stay no longer. [Exit, 
 
 Joe. Oh ! if I am hindmost, may I be shot like the 
 poor ostler and kitchen maid ! [Exit- o. p. d. 
 
 Maid, And may 1 be burnt if I stay to be shot ! 
 
 [Exit, o. p. D. 
 
 Mea. Oh, Fortune, auspicious to my warmest hopes! 
 Now could i but see, and converse one moment with 
 my Sophia. — Ha ! yonder comes a light — 'tis she — - 
 'tis she herself, my adorable Sophia. 
 
 Enter Sophia, o.p. door in flat. 
 
 Soph. I am come to tell you to lock yourself in im- 
 mediately — to-morrow I'll speak to you — it is danger- 
 ous for us to continue a moment together. 
 
 Mca. But isn't to-morrow to be your wedding-day ? 
 am I not to lose you forever to-morrow ? 
 
 Soph. No, Meadows, I am now satisfied of your 
 honour, and my guardian's villany ; a plot has been 
 just discovered to me, will astonish you — To-morrow 
 I will quit this house, and put my.«elf under your pro- 
 tection. 
 
 Mea. My love, my life ! you transport me. 
 
 Enter Young Wrongwaru. o. p. d. 
 
 Young Wrong. He shall leave the house to-night 
 Ha ! what do 1 see ? 
 
 Soph. (Aside.) It's all over, and I may as well 
 throw off the mask now as to-morrow. 
 
 Old Wrongward Rolled in o. p. 63/ William. 
 
 Old Wrong, He deserves a horse-pond instead of a 
 good bed. 
 
32 THE DEAF LOVER. [Pilon. 
 
 Mea. I should prefer a good bed notwithstanding, 
 Mr. H^ron guard. 
 
 Old fVrong. Why he has got his hearing. 
 
 Mea. Yes, sir, and my feeling too, of resentment for 
 the base advantage you tooii of me and this young 
 Indy. 
 
 OUl JVrong. Advantage ! who the devil are you ? 
 
 Mea. Caii'lyou discover Meadows under this dis- 
 guise ? that man whom you have so much injured ? 
 
 Old JVro7ig. Meadows! this is cursed unlucky — 
 but, George, we must get him out of the house as fast 
 as possible. 
 
 Can. {Without.) If you don't come by fair means, 
 rii lay you by the heels and lorce you into court. 
 
 Enter Canteen, John, and Betsy. 
 
 Younff Wrong. All, 1 fear, is discovered. 
 
 Old Wrong. Eh ! who is that fellow got hold of 
 John ? 
 
 Can. Let his worship know, John ; or I shall bo 
 committed for an assault, in the very act of thief- 
 faking. 
 
 John. Why, sir, if I must speak, it is you and my 
 young master that have brought me to this disgrace. 
 
 Old Wrong. Who, I and my son ? why the fellow 
 has lost his wits — or else he is drunk — take him to 
 bed, I hate a drunkard. 
 
 John. Lies won't do now, I must speak the truth, 
 or suffer for it — Captain Meadows, I humbly ask your 
 forgiveness, but every letter you sent to Miss Sophia, 
 I stopt, by the positive orders of both my masters. 
 
 Can. Vis all very true, sir, and among the rest, he 
 eto pped the miniature you sent Miss Sophia, by 
 
Att II.] THE DEAF LOVER. 33 
 
 which he was discovered — for the ugly dog had the 
 impudence to attempt to pass it upon my Betsy here, 
 for his own proper likeness. 
 
 Young Wrong. Come, Sophia, I am sorry you have 
 been disturbed — Captain, you may have a bed if you 
 please. 
 
 Mea. No, sir, I shall quit your house, and take my 
 Sophia with me. \^Tak€s her by the hand. 
 
 Old Wrong. What, would you steal a ward from 
 her guardian ? 
 
 Yotitig Wrong. Nay, if you proceed to force, make 
 a prisoner of her — take the consequence. [Draws. 
 
 Aiea. She has been long a prisoner, sir, in a place 
 she dislikes ; but here is my habeas for her removal. 
 {Pulls out a Pistol.) So, as you respect the law, gen- 
 tlemen, stand by. 
 
 Old Wrong. Roll me out of the way ; I shall be 
 shot or run through, between them. 
 
 Yo2tng Wrong. What, have 1 no assistance? where 
 are all my servants ? 
 
 Old Wrong. George, a word with you George, this 
 is a very ugly story, and we had better make the best 
 of it. 
 
 Youfig Wrong. What, sir, will you acquiesce in your 
 dishonour? 
 
 Mea. good night ; you shall hear from me. 
 
 [Going. 
 
 Old Wrong. Stay, Captain ; I have something to 
 propose to you. 
 
 Young Wrong. I perceive what you intend, but I 
 will not stay to be a witness of your weakness, and 
 my own shame — I shall take other steps to right my- 
 
 If. [Exit. 
 
 oo 
 
34 THE DEAF LOVER. [PilOD. 
 
 Old IVrong. You see what an obstinate boy he is : 
 but I won't cross your inclinations ; Sophia, you have 
 my consent. — This is always my way, wbtn I can't 
 help it. ' [Aside. 
 
 Mea. I take you at your word, sir ; but to-raorrow 
 will put your ward under the protection of the law, 
 for I will never take advantage of her partiality in my 
 favour, until she is at full liberty to choose for herself. 
 
 True love a jealous delicacy knows, 
 
 And slights ail dower, but what the heart bestows. 
 
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